I Love Moral Orel!! And I Love Turning All The Media I Consume Somehow Connected To Lesbianism ( Rlly

Can you write something with D16 and a human reader please? Maybe like seeing a human for the first time and befriending eachother, then the reader develops feelings because I mean....D16 XD (There is literally nothing of transformers one 😭) PS. I don't know why but I feel like transformers one character at least the miners are closer to human height for some reason 🤣 (sorry for yapping I'm obsessed)

D-16 X READER

Ok so…very unrealistic because yknow, no humans on cybertron. However I made up my own scenario :3 in my mind humans reach about to the knees of mine bots. You’ll make it work..

Human! Reader

Dumb fluff, no sad stuff

Reader is a space explorer who SOMEHOW MAGICALLY managed to successfully land on Cybertron with some of their survival kit intact (food, water, etc). What they didn’t expect was to encounter a train looking vehicle, hopping in it out of curiosity. What they also never expected was the train to start moving at full speed, charging inside of the planet as the crust literally opened up.

Your throat almost went sore because of your screaming.

You shifted, groaning as you sat up from your laying position. God, your head was pounding, what even happened? The ground beneath you was cold and rough, like the texture of popcorn wall if it were made of metal. Around you, you could hear the sound of wheels screeching, metal banging. Whatever you were on was not a smooth ride.

You opened your eyes, your breath hitched as you saw a figure above you. They were looking straight forward, both their hands placed on the edge of the cart. And they were not human. No human is that big.

You swiveled your head around you, seeing a pile of large rocks surrounding you. They were glowing a bright blue, looking quite radioactive. Okay, maybe you and your team expected a tiny bit of life here—but not a whole…whatever this was. You slowly stood up, carefully making your way towards the rock nearest to you. You struggled to move, all the rocks were basically covering your body. The rocks rolled over softly as you lifted an arm.

“Hey there,”

You froze, hearing a deep voice above you. You turned around, eyeing the figure still looking away from you. They looked to their side, mimicking the human expression of curtly smiling and nodding to someone to their right. You sighed in relief.

Placing both your palms on the edge of the cart, you pulled yourself up, letting the rocks fall away from your legs. You peeled your head over the cart, your eyes widening at the life around you. Sooo many robot beings walking around and pushing minecarts, all in different colors and similar size. You let out a small gasp.

D-16 raised a brow, hearing a noise just below him. He did a double take as he saw..something poking out of his cart. He froze. You froze. You both frozed.

“AHH!” You both yelled at the same time, backing away from eachother.

You fall back in between the rocks, probably scraping your back against one. Simotaniously, he bumped into someone’s cart in back of him, he muttered an awkward apology as he hurried along with his cart—he couldn’t let anyone else see this…thing.

He rushed over, taking a sharp turn and away from everyone doing their jobs.

When he stopped, he leaned over his cart to take a good look at you.

“Okay…what! What are you?” He whispered yelled, honestly feeling a bit defensive. You couldn’t blame him, he’s never seen a species like you. Sure, you were smaller. You were about the size of his leg..definitely shorter.

“I uh..I could ask the same thing…” you nervously said.

When you two first met you were very cautious of eachother. You were both scared. I think it took him a while to realize you were from a wholeee different planet. You were a space explorer? That’s cool! He’s definitely going to ask you about cybertrons surface, even though you insist you only saw it for a couple minutes before being kidnapped by a train.

He becomes so interested in you. Eventually, you OF COURSE get introduced to Orion. He had the same reaction, but was equally as intrigued. We all know how much he loves history and learning, they’re both gonna ask so many questions. They do everything to keep you hidden away from other bots, ESPECIALLY DarkWing. Orion has never seen D-16 as enthusiastic about someone as he is about you. (Maybe except for Megatronious)

The three of you are almost always together, but you definitely spend more time with D. Instead of getting rest after a long day in the mines, he takes you around with you sitting atop his shoulder—just talking. Whenever he hears a bot approaching, he quickly snatches you off and holds you behind his back. Definitely not obvious.

Rest in piece to privacy, because you both have NONE! We saw how none of the miners have individual sleeping areas. You have to constantly sneak away—usually it’s places where Orion has taken him. Imagine being taken to their special places :((

You spend longer than you thought on Cybertron, it’s not like you had a choice. Your pod was left on the surface and most definitely scrapped for materials. No one knows who or what and where the mysterious person from the pod is. Lucky you

It’s only logical you begin to fall for D-16. He’s oddly charming, funny, dedicated, and caring. You spend all your time together. He introduced you to his best friend. He tells you about all his plans. Plus, it’s always exciting to go on little trips together, potentially risking getting caught. These trips eventually turn into dates btw

He has definitely called you cute and pet your head with one digit. Yeah that kinda did it, even though he meant it as a tease

You know that scene where the two went racing? They were in first place, they’re exhausted and D got hit. Despite this he grins, looking back at the cameras which he knows are streaming the race. He knows you’re watching all the way from that green light.

“This is for Y/—!!“ he begins, only to be interrupted when a jet zooms past them, knocking them both over and sending them flying. Idiots <3

I hate when people make the mercs trans, like- it's the 60-70's and Transsexuality wasn't even known at that time. I have no problem with Trans ppl but still-

uninspired but epic song for vibes <3  here’s some old japan n nyo!japan doodles. 

Keep reading

Anyone remember that one reader insert where the reader dressed as hoodie for a party, and then is mistaken as him by the proxies? Man that was good

i have so many images ive made i need to post all of them

I do block freely and it makes me very happy to do so!!

Nightcrawler/GN!Reader The first Fic of the season is here!!! I'll go ahead an outright say that the other fic will NOT be this long and this in-depth. This one took me literally the whole month of september when it was only supposed to take me two weeks. I'm going to do my best to make sure that the other fics come out on time, but please have a little patience with me ;-; Also, This fic has not been beta read bc it is an absolute beast at 8k words (at least for me), so if anything seems off, or the ending was too abrupts, don't be mean lol.

You've recently moved into an old, spooky mansion that your great-aunt left you in her will. It's been uninhabited for years but is strangely well-kept. You're sure you live here alone, but every once in a while you can't shake the feeling of being watched…

Tws: Demons, stereotypical witchcraft, Alcohol consumption, Graphic depictions of blood and wounds for a minute, I'll add more if I can think of any.

    When the keys are plopped carelessly into your hands, they’re cold. They’re still cold, two weeks later when you finish moving in. It wasn't a fancy affair, no movers or big trucks, just some friends and the van they borrowed from the school. Truthfully, you didn’t really have a lot anyway. Most of them had honestly only shown up to offer their condolences for your loss.

    Your groceries feel heavier than normal when you set them on the kitchen counter, stepping back with a sigh. Never in your wildest dreams would you have even imagined of living in a place like this. You’d never even visited Aunt Maude’s house- Your, house. Sure, you and the rest of the family all knew she was well-off, but no one had a clue that when the will was read she had left you a Victorian-era mansion along with her estate. Even you hadn’t until you googled her address after the lawyer gave you the keys. 

    As surprising as it was, it was definitely your Great-Aunt Maude’s house. Every bathroom, bedroom, living space, You could see her in all of it. She was kooky and eclectic, with a love for all things strange and unusual. It was comforting, almost. To be wrapped in a house filled with the remnants of your aunt. Your eyes sting as you begin to fill up the long empty fridge, organizing it to your liking. You close the door and see your graduation photos stuck to it, along with a photo strip from the photo booth she dragged you into at your sweet sixteen. You suck in a shakey sob, tears welling in your eyes for what feels like the millionth time that day. You’re sad, and exhausted, and you haven't even unpacked yet, most of your belongings set in boxes in the Sitting room and Hallway.  But you just… couldn’t bring yourself to bother. Everything that was cold was already put in the fridge, so you decided the rest can wait till the morning.

    You trudge up the stairs with as much energy as you can muster, and when you finally make it to the master bedroom, you’re ready to pass out. The room is decorated in a way that feels much more like you than it felt like your Aunt, and you notice that the quilt on the bed was one she had shown you at Christmas one year. One you told her you very much envied. It was like she had made the room your own before she even stepped foot into the nursing home. The thought is enough to choke you up again. You crawl underneath the soft covers in a pretty pitiful manner, falling asleep almost immediately. 

    It’s only when you wake up the next morning that you start to notice something strange about this house. 

    The kitchen is a somewhat long walk from the upstares bedroom, and you’re basically starving by the time you get downstairs. You yawn as you grab the milk out of the fridge, still feeling half asleep as you turn around to grab the cereal off the counter only to find it… gone. In fact, all of the groceries you had left on the counter yesterday were gone.

     The realization is like a shot of ice through your veins. What the fuck?… You must have put them away last night, right? But you knew they were on the counter when you went to bed. You feel like you’re going to throw up, thinking about the chance that a burglar had broken in last night and you hadn’t heard it because you were upstairs. You sprint to the sitting room taking note of all your boxes and things, making sure to double-check that your TV was actually there and not a figment of your imagination, but it was definitely solid. You cautiously walk back to the kitchen, staring at the pantry door for an anxious moment before biting the bullet and swiftly opening it.

    All your groceries were in place. All are organized neatly exactly where you would have preferred them to be. Strange. You must have woken up last night and done it. Right? It wouldn’t be too absurd to assume you had put the groceries away half-asleep and forgotten about it. That had to be it. It’s not like someone broke in last night just to put your groceries away. Now that was just plain ridiculous. 

    From then on out, The strange things only seemed to continue.

    Sure, a house this old wasn’t without a general peculiarity about it, but after being told it hadn’t been inhabited since Aunt Maude put herself into inpatient care, it should be dusty, right? A home of this size, cluttered with the many odds and ends she had collected over the years? You’d never heard of a house that could dust itself. Your hands wander more than ever as you traverse the mansion, they run down the banister, across the pretty wallpaper, even taking a swipe at a shelf or two, and still, they’re clean. Not a smudge or spec of dirt on your fingers. 

    Strange, but not unexplainable. Maybe she had scheduled a cleaning service to take place after her death or something. You didn’t know. But a week goes by. Then two and then three, and everything is still spotless. And that was the least of it. Lights seemed to turn off by themselves at night. Things that you’re sure you heard fall were placed upright. If you forgot to turn the oven off, it would already be cool by the time you ran back into the kitchen- and the house constantly smelled like sulfur and brimstone. At this point, you’ve called the fire department so many times worried about a gas leak that they think you’ve gone crazy. 

    You just felt… Uneasy. Like you were being watched.

    “I feel like I’m losing my mind, Jean.” You watch as the redhead tries to hide a smile on the other side of the Facetime call, and you can’t help but pout a little when she inevitably laughs. Your little image on the top part of the camera must look rather ridiculous, hands tangled in some string lights you had found in the closet. As strangely organized and spotless as everything was, it seems that the Christmas lights in the back of the closet weren’t so lucky. Yay for you. 

    “Look, you’re just overthinking things. Don’t stress out about it.” Jean says, ever the voice of reason. You know she’s probably right. “Besides, you’ve been through a lot lately. It’s not abnormal for stress to do weird things to the mind.”

    “Yeah, I guess so.” You mumble. Detangling these lights is beginning to be a bit trickier than you first expected them to be. Each tangle and loop seems to be interconnected, and no matter how gently or firmly you are with the cords, another knot seems to form with every probable success. You sigh in annoyance, and Jean raises an eyebrow at you. 

    “Do I need to ask about the Christmas lights?” You’re about ready to give up on them when she asks, dramatically dropping them in your lap.

    “Well, remember how I was gonna throw that big Halloween party this year?” Jean hums in response. “Well, turns out that all the decorations I had for the apartment only cover like, an eighth of the house. I’ve been rummaging around in the closets all day to try and find something that might work and all I’ve been able to find is this.” You hold up the old, tangled lights for her to see.

    “That’s weird. With what I know about your Aunt, you’d think that she’d have a ton of decorations.” Jean mentions. You groan loudly, pressing your palms into the round edges of your eyesockets in frustration. 

    “Exactly! She loved Halloween, and with a house like this, there’s no way she’d just leave it bare. I’ve raided practically every closet and storage room in the house and haven’t found anything at all.” You almost shout the words, exasperated at this point. You knew for a fact Aunt Maude had to have something. It didn’t matter if it was even one of those awful animatronic jumping spiders at this point, you’d take anything if it meant you wouldn’t have to tap into your inheritance to decorate this big ass house (because there was no way in hell you weren’t going to decorate, you’d never disgrace your Aunt’s memory like that.). Jean is quiet for a moment, looking sympathetic through the screen. To be honest, as much as you value Jean’s advice, you’re beginning to think she’s got nothing to help you until-

    “Are you sure there’s not an attic or anything?”

    The thought makes you pause.

    “Oh my god, I’m an actual idiot.” You practically shriek the words, quickly standing from the floor and shoving the Christmas lights to the side as you run to get some shoes on. The attic! God, you feel so stupid for not thinking of it before! All you had to do was find the access hatch!

    “Just be careful though! Even though the house is renovated, that doesn’t mean-”

    “I’ll call you later, Okay? I’m gonna go look upstairs!”

    “No no no, don’t-”

    It takes you forever to find that damn attic. You’d think that it would be easy to find, seeing that it’s sort of an important structure in this house, but nooo. It’s been almost a month since you moved in, and yet you still feel like you’re lost while you wander around the third floor. How hard could it be to find a simple hatch? You feel like you’re looking in all the wrong places, and you know you probably are. You’re pacing around one of the third-floor bedrooms looking at the ceiling when a noise from the billiards room across the hall makes you freeze. 

    Were those footsteps?

    No, you were home alone. It couldn’t be. 

    Still, the sound leaves you on edge. You stalk across the hallway, stopping at the door to the other room as you briefly debate on how to open it. A small shuffle from the ceiling makes you jump a little, and you quickly decide, Fuck it. We ball. 

    You swing the door open with a bit more force than necessary and find the room… empty. Right. Of course, it was. You sigh in relief, running a stressed hand through your scalp as you take in the sight of the room for the first time since your original walk-through of the home. 

    In your brief scan of the room, you manage to spot a small string hanging right above the pool table, swinging back and forth. You slowly look up, and there it is. The fucking attic hatch. 

    “Oh god damn it. Was it really that easy to find?” You mumble to yourself, wondering if you really were just that stupid. 

    It doesn’t take a lot of time to move the pool table over so that you can open the latch and pull the rickety old ladder down. It looked more modern than most of the house, but it was easy to tell it was about as old as you were. You take a moment to just stare into the black hole in the ceiling, wondering if all this was really worth it. Well, you already spent all this time looking for the thing, so…

    You’re a little extra careful as you climb the ladder up into the attic, using the flashlight in your phone to light the way the further you go. The attic is a little bit dustier than the rest of the house, but to be honest, it was cleaner than you were expecting. It's dark and cramped, but once you fully enter you find that you can at least stand up to your full height. The excitement of finding the place has begun to wear off, and you start to feel a little flighty as you look around and the light from your flashlight shifts. This is okay. It’s fine. You’re fine. Maybe she had lights installed, right? You look up at the roof and are thankful to see those long, industrial fluorescent lights screwed to the ceiling. Thank god. 

    It takes a minute of stumbling and carefully following the wires to a corner of the attic, doing your best not to trip over anything along the way, and you find a small light switch in the corner of the room. You breathe a sigh of relief as you flick it on, and the lights overhead blink and light up. That’s a bit better!

    You find that Aunt Maude’s attic is cluttered with various random items, some older, others a bit more modern. The exercise bike and the Zumba tapes made you laugh a little as you passed them by, while some older cloth dolls and bunnies just made you uncomfortable. You’re not really sure where to start the search, so you just walk around for a minute. One of the lights overhead is starting to flicker a little, and you’re inwardly hoping that there’s no faulty wiring or anything that might start a fire when your foot catches on something.

    “Oh Shit!”

    There’s not a lot of time for you to catch yourself when you fall, eating absolute shit as you fall face-first into a stack of boxes. You smash your nose into something particularly hard when you land, and there’s a variety of shapes sticking into your sides that have sprouted from the smashed boxes below you. Ow, ow ow! God damnit! This is what you get for not listening to Jean. You feel a little dizzy as you sit up amongst the boxes, holding your nose tightly while you wonder if you just broke it. Your eyes are blurry from the pain, and it takes a second for you to fully come to.

    “What the hell did I just fall into?” You’re blinking away the blurriness as the sight in front of you finally starts to clear, A bunch of broken boxes now greeting you. Boxes that now had a bunch of plastic bones sticking out of the torn sides. You make a fairly embarrassing noise of excitement when you realize you had found exactly what you were looking for in the first place. The Halloween decorations!! Thank god! You were so unbelievably happy to find them that you couldn’t help but reach forward and look through the boxes immediately. 

    After thoroughly inspecting the contents, you realize that there were about eight large boxes of Halloween decorations in total. Motherfucking eight! This was perfect! The only thing was that there was still one little issue: getting them downstairs. You try not to think about those rickety ladders too hard as you move each box to a place a little easier to get to. Your back is already aching when you’re done for the moment, so you decide to sit down on the floor and lean back a little, catching your breath while looking at those eight, somewhat heavy boxes you were gonna have to fool around with in just a moment. Your foot nudges something as you do so. Hm. 

    Sitting up a little bit, you can see that it’s a floorboard, just sticking out a little bit. Oh! Guess that’s what you tripped over earlier. You try and press it back down with your foot, and that definitely doesn't work. Damn. Hopefully, you could find a hammer or something to tack it back down. You scoot over to get a better look when you notice that there’s something underneath, a dark blue color just faintly catching your eye. Curious, you lift the board a little, and after a tug or two, it gives way.

    You find an old, leatherbound book underneath. It’s got no clear name on the cover or the spine, simply a rune or emblem of sorts burned into the upper left corner. Finding it a bit strange, you flip open the cover, thinking that it must be a diary or something left by the original owners as a time capsule of sorts- but it’s not. Every page in the book is blank except for the very last one. This book is not what it has been. When the Veil strains thin will the ink be seen.

    Weird, but okay. You assume it’s a novelty or a trick or something, but it looks spooky enough, so you gently set it in one of the more empty boxes of Halloween decorations. Now it was time for the hard part.

    You drag one box at a time to the ladder, and looking at the size of them vs. the skinny steps below you, you wonder just how the hell Aunt Maude got these up here in the first place. Just thinking about getting these downstairs is intimidating, but you were never a quitter. One by one, you carefully take each box down, making sure to never carry more than you can handle and to keep a good grip on the ladder no matter what. After about 20 minutes, you get about halfway through. Four boxes down, four to go. Your arms are getting a bit tired and you’re a bit sweaty from the lack of AC in the attic, but you think you’ve got it. 

     On the fifth box of decorations, your foot slips. You gasp in shock, your stomach flipping as you fall backward- a split second of absolute terror as you fall. You’re terrified that you’re gonna die, and that Jean will never forgive you and you’d never get to throw that stupid party you were doing all this work for in the first place. 

    The air is knocked from your lungs from something that felt much more like a catch than it did the floor. You don't know what’s going on for a moment, eyes shut tight as the shock begins to wear off and you realize that you’re fine… Wait. Hold on. Someone had definitely caught you, and unless Jean had snuck in…

    To be honest, whatever you were expecting when you opened your eyes was very, very much wrong. Your heart is beating a million times a minute, a chill running through you when you finally register who is above you. Or what, rather. The first thing you see are his eyes. Yellow from pupil to scelera, almost glowing in the low light of the billiards room. He’s more fuzz than skin, blue in color, with devilishly sharp canine teeth he reveals with a sheepish smile.

    “Hallo?”

    He flinches when you shriek, doing his best not to drop you as you squirm out of his arms. Your knees give out the moment your feet hit the floor, and you scramble back, grabbing the first box you can and throwing anything you can find at him. 

    “Sorry- Sorry! I had not mean to scare you!” He holds his arms up to block each decoration you throw at him. A few plastic spiders, a zip lock of polyester faux webbing, and a little floral crow or two. You can hardly even think at the moment.

    “Stop! Please stop! I didn't want to let you fall!” He flinches at each item although none of them are very heavy. You’re running out of things to throw, stalling for a moment as you debate lunging for one of the other boxes.

    “WHAT ARE YOU?!” You shriek again.  He opens his mouth to speak as he takes a step back, and you flinch as you see something move in the corner of your eye- a tail. A spaded fucking demon tail. You had to be losing it. Having hallucinations or a nightmare or something- but as it turns out, you are definitely a fight-over-freeze kind of person, and your body kicks in before your brain has caught up. The box of bones was next to go. A hand, and then two small rib cages and a slightly heavy bundle of newspaper fly through the air.

     “Careful!” He flat-out ignores the other items, going wide-eyed at the ball of newspaper and lunging to catch it in time. He takes an audible sigh of relief when he does, and says something that makes you pause from pelting him with any more Halloween shit.

    “You’re certainly Maude’s kin, but I doubt she’d appreciate you throwing her breakables.” He halfheartedly jokes, an awkward smile on his face. You’re mid-throw with another bone, hand frozen in the air with a range of emotions going on in your head.

    “Excuse me?” You ask, possibly a little overdramatic at the moment. He goes to move, probably to set the wad of newspaper down, but you raise your hand again as if to throw, making a face at him that’s a little more goofy than it was intimidating. He hands the newspaper off to his tail, raising his hands to show that he means no harm.

    “Maude? The woman who lived here before?”

    “Yeah, I got that part!” You cry out, hands shaking a bit from adrenaline. “How do you know my Aunt Maude? And what are you!? Why are you here!?” The rapid-fire questions seem to interrupt him every time he opens his mouth, but he doesn’t seem to lose his patience with you. He very calmly places the wad of newspaper on top of a box that happens to be near, and you eye him suspiciously as he does. He sits down next to it, the tip of his tail swaying just slightly.

    “Maybe we should take a step back, Ja? I can explain everything, I promise.” He says, patting the space next to him. “Herkommen. It might be better to sit for this.” His smile is polite, and if this situation were any different, you might find his kind demeanor charming. But the situation isn’t different. He was a stranger in your house. A blue, possible-demon stranger, with a tail and what you think looks like small, pointed horns sticking out from the thick curls that cover his hairline. You eye him suspiciously, halfway wondering if this was a trick of sorts. He’s looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to sit. Eventually, you do, but not next to him, definitely not. You sit down right where you are, hesitant and fidgety as he begins to speak.

    Of course, it would be your Aunt to summon a demon to aid her with her ridiculous (lovely) house in her failing health, instead of hiring a fucking nurse, or an assistant, or just selling the damn thing. Of course, it would be your Aunt to leave you the house with said demon in it, and not tell you. OF COURSE, It would be your aunt to tell him to take it slow while introducing himself so he wouldn't freak you out, and OF-FREAKING-COURSE, it would be you who almost killed yourself on accident and completely derail that plan. Jesus, what was worse? The fact that your aunt was apparently an actual witch who summoned demons in her elderly years, or that she didn’t explain any of this to you before leaving you the house. You didn't know how to unpack all of this, hell, you weren’t even done unpacking all of your things. 

    Well, It’s not like you could (or would) kick him out really, but in the coming weeks, you notice that Kurt is really more of a butler than a roommate.

    He’s been cleaning even before you knew he existed, but now that the grand reveal was over, you see him around the house much more often. He helps you with groceries, cooks for you when you’re exhausted, he takes the trash out sometimes too, when the sun goes down. He doesn’t go outside in the front yard very much to avoid being seen, but every once in a while, he’ll take a walk with you in the backyard. You were hesitant of him for a good bit, but you’d be a liar if you said he didn’t have a way of worming his way into your good graces. He’s… sweet. And easy to get along with. He effortlessly fits into your life, and you find yourself excited to see him when you wake up every day. You get along so well that it makes you wonder if your aunt had known that you would when she summoned him, or… you know what, probably not. 

    You learn more about him as the weeks go by. His past, his hopes for the future. You learn that his father is a demon lord of some sort, and his mothers are a bit more complicated. All three are dangerous, and all three are trying to find him. 

    “Is that why you took the pact with my Aunt?” You ask, late one night. Both of you have drinks in hand, leaning back on a pile of pillows and cushions you found in the tower room. It’s comfortable, if a bit warm. The two of you are a little flushed, words surprisingly clear as you speak. Despite being a demon, you find that Kurt is a bit of a lightweight. An accident on your part, having poured the drinks a little stronger thinking that he had a bit more tolerance. 

    “Mostly.” Kurt hums. He’s fully leaning against you, head resting snugly against your own with his tail curled around your abdomen. His horns are resting against your temple in a rather uncomfortable manner, but you don’t mention it. He takes another drink.

    “I don’t know how she knew. Or if she knew, really. Magic is specific to each demon, like a fingerprint of sorts, just a bit easier to track. When a demon makes a pact, their magic is filtered through the pact-bearer- which creates a different kind of magic. I needed a place to hide, she was offering me a home. It was easy.” His words slur a little where his accent tends to come out a bit stronger.

    “Was that all she offered you? A place to stay?”

    “That and…” He trails off for a quick moment, clearing his throat to change the subject. “Well, anyway. I was desperate, and she seemed kind, so I agreed.” You nod as you think it over yourself. You can’t tell if he’s just drunk or it's a sensitive subject, but he can’t just have accepted the many tasks of cleaning and caring for an old woman for something less in return. Was it that easy for demons to make pacts like that? Surely, she wouldn’t have offered him her soul or anything.

    You open your mouth to ask him more questions, but when a light snore reaches your ears, you know he’s fallen asleep. You can't help but smile, a warmth in your chest that you don’t really think is from the alcohol.

    A few days later, it’s Saturday, October 31st. After some long weekends and late nights, you finally have the whole house decorated, inside and out! You were so beyond excited. The whole place looked like it had come straight out of a Halloween catalog! You were so proud of how amazing it looked, but you could never have taken all the credit. Kurt was a big help, both with the placement and creativity of the many decorations. Everything that had to be put outside had to be done so at night so that Kurt wouldn’t be seen, and sure, sometimes you would wake up and see a few things were crooked, but at least it was fun! You’ve never felt so invigorated and filled with Halloween spirit, especially now, a few hours before the party. You’re shaking some full-sized candy bars into a big-ass plastic cauldron, and Kurt walks in with his arms full of Party favors for tonight.

    “You know, I’m not sure you could give away all of these if you tried!” Kurt laughs, setting them all down on the coffee table in the sitting room. It's a bunch of plastic spider rings, vampire teeth, squishy skeletons, slap bracelets, and more. All sorted into their own neat ziplock bags. The apartment complex you used to live at never really got any trick-or-treaters, so you had a lot of leftover goodies you were happy to finally use. You let out an excited giggle, taking one of the bags and emptying it into the cauldron. 

    “You’ll be surprised! With the neighborhood that’s just around the corner, I know for a fact that we’ll have plenty of kids come by!” You almost sing. Kurt smiles at you, taking a bag of his own to empty. 

    “Don’t get your hopes up, Schatz. It’s an old building, and rather scary from afar. Maude never really had a lot of visitors on Halloween.” You pout at his words, before tilting your head like you’re considering them as you continue to fill the cauldron. 

    “True, but Aunt Maude never tried posting on neighborhood Facebook groups and hyping up PTA moms before. Besides, the house is scary, but that's what the lights are for!” Kurt shakes his head, laughing as you voice the thought. You mayyy have gone overboard this year. A few extra strands of lights, blow-ups, and animatronics never hurt anybody, right? I mean, with most of your expenses taken care of due to the paid-off mansion you live in, you were able to spend a little bit more of your personal spending money on Halloween. Your new home was a whole-ass Halloween attraction, and a good bit of the neighborhood thought so too! After posting online, you were pleasantly surprised with the positive feedback from the surrounding neighborhoods, and had even personally met a few kind neighbors since!

    Kurt however, couldn’t risk being seen, and had to hide every time. Most people would freak out, just like you did, and the attention isn’t really a good thing for him. The thought sends you on the same spiral that you had been on for the past week, and the smile slowly slips off your face as Kurt takes the pot from you and begins to mix the goodies all together.

    “...You’re sure you don’t want to come tonight?” You ask, vulnerability shining through your voice. Kurt looks up from the task, brow furrowed. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then looks back down again.

    “I don’t want to scare anyone.” He says softly, making your frown deepen.

    “You won’t! I promise you won’t. None of my friends scare easily- and besides! It’s Halloween. Everyone will just think you’re in a costume!” You try to make the last bit of the plea happy and convincing, but it doesn’t seem to work very well. Kurt doesn’t look at you until he’s done with the pot, placing it back on the coffee table. When he does, his smile doesn’t seem to reach his eyes,

    “I’ll be fine, Schatz. I promise. It will be easier for me to just hide. I can easily enjoy the party from a distance.” The words aren’t very convincing, but before you can say anything else, the doorbell rings. Kurt dusts himself off as he stands, tail swaying as he pulls you to your feet. 

    “Looks like your guests are early. Make sure to have fun tonight, Ja? I’ll see you later.” Kurt squeezes your hands, and you try not to look too disappointed. After all, it was his decision, and you don’t want him to feel forced to show himself when so much could go wrong. You give him a moment to head back upstairs, disappearing like he used to do back in the beginning. You can’t help but sigh a little, but there’s a hesitant knock on the door instead of the doorbell this time, and you know you can’t just stand here and ignore it.

    You don’t really know who is going to be on the other side of the door, with it being mid-afternoon and still a hot minute before the party actually starts, but the bloody, red-haired Carrie on the other side of the door brightens your spirits the moment you see her.

    “Jean!” You cheer, rushing to give her a hug that she warmly returns.

    “Happy Halloween!” Jean says before pulling away. “I hope you don’t mind, I thought I’d come by a little early to help you set up.” 

    “Are you kidding? I have a whole ass kitchen of food I still need to plate.” You step aside to let Jean in as she laughs. You were originally to do most of the prep with Kurt, and although Jean is technically interrupting, you try not to let it get you down. This is the first time you’ve seen her in a long while, and you were already rather lucky that Halloween was falling on a Saturday this year- most of your friends/guests all working at the prep school nearby. 

    “Am I the first one here?” Jean asks as you lead her to the kitchen, and you hum in response.

    “Yup, It’s been just me all day.” You’ve never been the best liar, but you think you’re a little convincing at least. 

    “Funny, I could have sworn I heard a man’s voice when I rang the doorbell.” Jean’s smug tone almost makes you stop in place. If you were even a little convinced that some of this house was soundproof, those hopes were dashed instantly. You smile nervously, trying to play it off as you pass the sitting room, the TV giving you an idea.

    “Whaaaattt? No. I mean- I’ve had the TV in the sitting room running all day, so maybe that’s what you heard.” You say, trying to wave her off. Unfortunately, Jean had the ungodly ability to pick up your anxiety like a goddamn bloodhound.

    “Really? There’s not some mystery boyfriend you’re not telling me about?” Jean teases. You get stiff and quiet immediately, biting your lip as you reach the kitchen. She takes the silence as an affirmative answer, and she’s not exactly far off. Jean cocks an eyebrow at your nervous stance, chuckling at the sweat that practically beads at your brow. You try to hide the flush of your cheeks by busying yourself with setting out different snack foods to organize and avoiding her eyes, but it doesn’t work. 

    “Oh come on, I’m not blind. You’re over there blushing like a student. Who’s the lucky guy?” Jean asks, helping you with the task. You begin to open a back of chips, looking away from Jean’s knowing gaze.

    “I- We’re- We’re not really a thing. He’s just a friend.” You say, heart thundering in your chest as you pray Kurt isn’t lurking nearby. You’re struggling with the bag still, and Jean holds her hands out as an offer. You hand it to her without a second thought, and she opens the bag easily.

    “And is this friend coming to the party tonight?” She asks. You stall for a moment. All you can hear are the soft clinks of the chips hitting the inside of one of the bowls you had set out. You’re not quite sure what to say to that, or even if you had anything to say. Your hesitance makes her frown, looking up at you cautiously. When she puts the bag back down, she reaches out to take your hand. 

    “Well, if he does stop by, I’ll be glad to meet him.” Her tone is reassuring, and you muster a small smile for her. Tonight was supposed to be fun, so you’d do your best to enjoy it.

    The night goes by busier than you ever would have expected. Everyone comes dressed to the absolute nines in their costumes, and although a few were lacking in imagination in your opinion- Logan specifically- everyone looked amazing. You quickly realize that It’s harder to be a good hostess in this big ass house than you would think. Between the food, trying to catch up with friends, and the doorbell constantly ringing with practically a line down your driveway of more trick-or-treaters than you’ve ever seen, you were constantly busy. Lucky for you, you had good people around you. Logan and Scott thankfully took over cooking hamburgers and hotdogs- and Jean promised to keep them from butting heads. Ororo and Xavier happily volunteered to hand out the candy when you couldn’t, and you had Jubilee to count on when it came to the music. The house was busy, people were smiling, and overall, everything was going really well. 

    The only downside was that you hadn’t seen Kurt since Jean arrived. Sure, it was busy, but every time you managed to pry yourself away from the crowd and look for him in his usual hidey-spots, you never found him. He’s good at being sneaky, I mean he has to be, right? Being blue and all, but his consistent absence makes you a little nervous. He’s probably just being extra cautious, and you can’t blame him for that.

    After a few drinks have been had, spirits are high, and some different party games you had planned were finished, it was time to vote for best costume. Almost everyone had gone outside, enjoying the yard and the house in all its festive glory, but you stayed inside to count the votes. Kitty and Illiyana had volunteered to help you, and it takes a surprising amount of time to count the various strips of colored construction paper. In the end, it seems like it was really more of a “most ridiculous” costume contest instead. Jubilee, dressed as the one in only Kool-aide-man in the biggest plastic fishbowl you’d ever seen, won best costume by a single point, with Kevin’s fantastic costume of Professor Xavier himself a single point behind. You try your best not to laugh, knowing that they are not going to be too happy about that. You had bought a light up-sash and a plastic crown for the winner, stopping to grab them before stepping outside to try and find the teen. 

    Somehow, you can’t find her. I mean, You think it would be easy to find a huge red bowl with a face on it, but she’s not outside at all. When you ask Hank, he says he’s pretty sure she went back inside, so inside you go. You’re starting to get a little anxious at this point, not finding her on the first, or second floor. The third floor is completely dark, aside from the colorful light coming from the windows. You call out her name with no response, and then thinking that Kurt may have seen her, you call out his name next. Nothing. He’s never done that before. Sure, there was a lot going on, but normally he’d at least try to answer you. You creep from door to door upstairs, without any luck, when a muffled sound from the tower room falls on your ears. It makes you pause for a moment. It might be nothing, but you remember telling Jubilee about the room earlier, so you figure it wouldn’t hurt to check.

    You’re hesitant, but then there's another muffled cry, and this time, you know it’s him. You slowly creep up over to the door, and then up the stairs to the room. Minutes feel like hours, and when you finally get there, you find Kurt, on his knees and doubled over in pain with his hands pressed to his chest.

    “Oh my god, Kurt!” You cry out, running over to him. His face is scrunched up in a wince, his eyes shooting open when you try to help him sit up. 

     “No, no- You can't be here- You need to go,” Kurt’s voice comes out between heaving breaths. Your hands are shaking, panicked as you spot the blood seeping through his shirt. He hisses in pain when you touch the spot, as if he’s been burned, and when his hands quickly tug your wrist away- his neckline shifts. There’s a brand over his heart. Etched into him as if it were carved with a scalpel.

    “What happened? What's happening?” The words come out faster than your brain can catch up. His nails are elongated, razor-sharp points almost digging into the skin of your wrist as hold hold shifts. The brand glows as another wave of pain washes over him. Those small points that normally hide in his curly hair have grown, too. His horns sweep over his head, prominent and black at the very tips. He cries out, slumping forward onto your shoulder as the pain passes.

    “You need to go. Bitte- I need you to leave.” Kurt almost whimpers, practically limp against you as he tries to catch his breath. “It’s Azazel, my Vater. He’s found me. He’s using the brand to track me down. It’s too dangerous for you to be here.” He stiffens as another wave of pain hits him, and you do your best to keep upright. There’s so much running through your head, concern, confusion. You don't know how to help him besides holding up up and it's killing you to see him like this.

    “I don’t understand- I thought he couldn’t find you unless you used magic?” Kurt looks ashamed when you ask the question, tucking his head further into your shoulder. It's only then that you actually take a look at the room around you. There's an open book on the ground, runes and lettering you don't understand scatter the pages, along with a diagram of a devil that seemingly shifts into something more human and back at every shift of your eye. When you see the worn cover, you recognize it as the book beneath the floorboards- and you finally understand that it's a spellbook.

    “I… I wanted to join you.” Kurt whispers, unable to look you in the eye. “My Mutter was skilled in transmutation so I…” He trails off, shaking his head and wincing when another sharp pain shoots through him.

    “It was stupid. I’m sorry. I should never have touched it without a pact.”

    “If you make one now, will the brand disappear?” 

    Kurt visibly pauses. Sitting up as best he can to get a look at your face. You're still panicking, but overall you feel mortified. Ashamed. Did you do this? Were you so instant that he came tonight that he would risk everything just to do so? What was wrong with you- and why on God's green earth would he actually try to go through with it? You're beginning to tear up, swallowing down your thoughts as you offer the only thing you can think of. Kurt doesn't answer you at first, his yellow eyes wide with shock as he stares at you. 

    “If you make a new pact, will you be able to dispel the tracker?” You repeat, trying so hard to seem confident and self-assured through your shaky voice. Kurt’s face shifts into something you can't quite place, and he shakes his head.

    “I can’t ask that of you-”

    “Kurt, just answer me!” You’re too stubborn to let it go. A trait that you and Maude often shared. Kurt takes your hands into his own, squeezing them, and shakes his head. He's insistent in his own right, conveying his worry and fears- not for his own future, but yours.

    “This isn’t the way you want to gain a pact! Maude had made preparations. She had charms and protections and rules in place! There’s no time for us to do the same. If you make a pact with me now with nothing? It would bind your soul to mine for eternity. You would have no rest, no peace- no Heaven. I won’t-”

    “I love you!” Kurt sucks in a sharp breath at your exclamation. Tears have started to roll down your face no matter how hard you were trying to blink them away. 

    “I don’t care about eternity, or rest- or any of that. I love you. Fuck- I know I haven’t even known you three months- I just…” You trail off, looking away from him in embarrassment that all of this had to come out in such bullshit circumstances.

    “Please just make the pact.”

    Kurt’s eyes soften, almost scanning your own as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re telling the truth. He uses the back of his hand to wipe the tears from your face, careful of his claws, and then suddenly, he kisses you. It’s easy for you to melt into his desperate kiss, a hand coming up to cup his face as he pulls you closer with his tail. The strong limb pulls you into a straddle across his lap as he takes your free hand in his own. When he breaks the kiss, he does so with a mumbled apology as he takes your free hand. You feel a sudden stinging pain as a careful claw slices across your palm, and he apologizes again as he presses it over his heart, directly against the bleeding brand. Both of you hiss at the sudden, blinding pain as his hand continues to press your palm tightly to the wound.

    There’s an energy that begins to fill your body, like an electric current that links the two of you together. Your skin is buzzing, your head spinning as you fall against his shoulder in a mirror of his own position earlier. Kurt’s new claws dig into his own skin, and he grits his teeth as the pain from the brand grows more and more- before everything stops.

    You wish you could say there was some spark, or spoken words, or something, but it all ends almost anti-climatically. Everything stops. Everything is quiet- almost too quiet. Whatever vertigo you are feeling begins to wear off, and when you feel like you can finally lift your head, you look at Kurt.

    He’s smiling at you, horns reduced, fingernails shortened, with your hand still pressed over his heart- the brand gone and the skin healed on both of you

    “Is it over?”

    “It’s over.” He confirms, and you sigh in relief, pressing your forehead against his own. Kurt doesn't take long before he’s pressing kisses all over your face, holding you still as you giggle and squirm. You know there’s more to be said between you, but it’s been one hell of a night, and right now you’re enjoying the comfortable silence between Kurt’s fluttering kisses- until someone calls your name from the tower stairs.

    “Hey, You in there?” Jean’s voice echoes through the space, and you sit straight up, heart given a jumpstart as Jean comes into view- you don’t have time to move before she gets there.

    “You’ll never guess where we found Jube….” She trails off when she sees you and Kurt. “Oh?” Your face is as red as it can get, panic shooting through you at the realization that she’s seen the actual demon living in your home. All he does though is smile and wave, although a bit nervously. Jean raises an eyebrow, beginning to smile just as you realize the position the two of you are in.

    “Nice costume,” Jean says, and after a moment of confusion, you realize she’s talking to Kurt. Kurt looks relieved, shoulders relaxing underneath you, and you clear your throat.

    “Jean, this is Kurt.” 

    The air settles in the Tower room once it’s empty, the sound of the party downstairs is muffled through the floorboards, but still present nonetheless. There’s almost a giggle in the air, and the book flips from page to page before it closes shut, and the ink fades as the grandfather clock in the downstairs hallway strikes midnight. A pact is completed, and the energy in the air begins to fade. After all, a soul can’t leave the mortal plane until its final business has been finished, and Maude had not promised her own soul to the friendly blue devil, but no one said she couldn’t offer something else- a soulmate. 

Oooh your styles so nice

*watches eltingville club once*

Circus freaks

Nightcrawler/GN! reader - part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - Part 4 WAZAAAAP. I missed you guys!! I'm not entirely happy with this chapter bc I feel like the ending is a little fast, but once again the word count was getting a little too long and I felt I might need to seperate it again. I put it to a vote, and although it was hella neck and neck unlike any vote i've done before lmao, Splitting chapter 3 was the option that won. Next chapter will be all about Kurt and reader learning about each other all over again TWs: Fire, Smoke, museums. Cliffhanger, Very slight comfort. Depictions of nightmares and burning animals, not a lot of kurt in this one bc the buildup is too good not to milk my bad guys.

    The drive from the airport is long, rainy, and sleepy. The cab is cramped and smells a little strange, but the driver is polite enough and happy to accept your cash. Your stomach is turning in knots with every twist and turn down the long, wooded road, and through the gaps in the trees, you can see a tall roof in the distance. The gate to the long driveway is open, which eases a bit of your nervousness. The shadow of a bird flies overhead as the cab begins to slow, and you can only hope you’re right about all of this when the impressive front door comes into view. 

    The cab drops you off without much care, speeding away just about the second you get both feet and your suitcase on the ground. Must not be a fan of the area, you guess. You open your umbrella as fast as you can, trying not to chew on the inside of your cheeks while staring at that door. It’s a wonder how something with such cutesy spring wreaths can feel so intimidating. 

    Just knock already! The crow (now named Otto, through no choice of your own), caws, landing on your shoulder. You’re not surprised at his entrance, a bit comforted by the familiar weight on your shoulder if anything. You make a face at him, before taking a deep breath. You straighten your spine a little before walking to the door.

    For a school of such renown, the yard is pretty… empty. There’s not a soul outside, but you are here at 10 am on a Monday in the pouring rain, so… Regardless, school must be in, right? You assume it would be, but the exaggerated amount of time you spend waiting at the door begins to make you question yourself again.

  Your breath catches a little when you hear the deadbolt unlock, trying to look polite as the door opens just a crack and a scruffy man stands in the doorway, holding the door so that his shoulder blocks out any sort of entrance. He has a rather sour look on his face, eyes barely flicking towards Otto before landing back on you, looking you up and down in a way that’s entirely too intimidating. 

    “Hi. I’m looking for the Xavier’s school?” You say sweetly. He doesn't say anything and abruptly shuts the door in your face. 

    Wow, that guy’s got an attitude problem. 

    That was an understatement, you think. You take another breath to shake it off, and knock again. This time, it opens back up before you finish knocking. The same man stands before you.

    “What do you want?” He grumbles, curtly.

    “I-I was hoping to speak to Charles Xavier. I understand that you must be very busy people but-” You don’t even get to finish your sentence this time before you feel the whoosh of air as the door closes again. You make a face at that, trying to keep composure while you try to decide if you’re feeling pissed or just disappointed. All this build-up to get here, just for a door in your face. Otto lets out an offended huff, and you feel the weight on your shoulder shift as he hops off. With a few flaps of his wings, he grabs hold of the doorframe, twisting so that he himself can incessantly rap at the door. 

    The door opens again, and the man looks angrier this time. Otto swings upside down from the frame like a bat, cawing at him in a taunting manner. The man begins to open his mouth to yell at you about god knows what, when he’s interrupted. 

    “Logan?” He sighs as a voice calls out from behind him, and you give him a curious look as he rolls his eyes. “Open the door. Don’t make those poor souls wait in the rain any longer.” The man, Logan, you’re assuming, takes a step away from the door as he opens it wide, making room for a man with a bright smile and a wheelchair to stroll to the doorway. Otto hops down from the doorframe, landing back on your shoulder while giving Logan a smug look you’re choosing to ignore. You recognize the face of the man in the wheelchair from many different magazines and news stories, but seeing him in person still lights a spark of hope in your heart. 

    “Good morning,” You start. “You must be Professor Xavier. My name is-”

    “I know who you are, my dear.” He says, hardly even stopping to think. “There’s no need to worry. Come, Welcome to Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters.” He makes way for you to step inside, and his warmth makes you smile and relax a bit. You do your best not to be a rude guest, shaking your umbrella out and wiping your feet before stepping through the doorway. You pass by Logan as you do so, holding the door open and still looking a bit sourly at Otto on your shoulder. Once the door is closed, Otto promptly shakes the rain off of his own feathers just as you set your umbrella in the holder, causing both you and Logan to grunt unhappily and Charles to chuckle. 

    The inside of the school is the exact opposite of the courtyard. It’s bustling with life, people of all kinds running out and about, some with books or otherwise. They chatter comfortably, some waving to the professor as they pass. Every one of them is a mutant and its… amazing. You can’t help but stop and stare in wonder at everyone living so freely and without fear. The exact opposite of how you had been feeling all these years. It takes the brush of Logan’s shoulder against your own for you to realize that the professor has started moving again, and you hurry to catch up.

    “I suppose if you know who I am, you might know why I’m here?” You begin once you do, letting that treasonous little spark of hope burn a little brighter. You know there’s no guarantee he’s here, nothing but a headline and a torn newspaper article about the X-men as your tip. Otto had brought it to you, having found it god knows where. You had been looking for years at this point, only running on word of mouth, beak, and muzzle. But this? This had a photo. One stained and wet and with runny ink- but you felt that you could recognize that figure anywhere. Charles chuckles at the thought. 

    “I do.” He hums, “Kurt’s going to be delighted to see you.” He finishes. You feel your heart jump at the words. You reach his office, and he rolls behind his desk, inviting you to sit down.

    “So he’s- is he?-” You trail off, and the professor’s face turns rather sympathetic. Logan is standing in the doorway, and Xavier nods him on, not that you really remembered that he was there anyway. Your heart begins to sink, falling straight into your stomach as the door clicks shut, Logan closing it behind him on his way out. 

    “Not quite. Not yet.” Xavier says. Otto scoffs on your shoulder, hopping over to perch on the other chair while he grumbles something you can't really hear. You try to calm your nerves, doing your best to stay optimistic.

    “But he will be, won’t he?” You ask, voice cracking a little. Xavier smiles again, beginning to gather some files on his desk.

    “He’s become a valuable and irreplaceable member of my X-men, and as such, I had tasked him and a few others with something rather urgent a short time ago. I apologize for that, if I had known you were coming I would have kept him here instead.” All these years of looking for him, and you missed him by what, a week? It’s disappointing, but… You still found him. All that’s left is to finally see him again. The thought of it surfaces with a new kind of anxiety.

    “How long will he be away?” You ask. The professor shakes his head, reaching for something in the filing cabinet by his desk.

    “I wish I had a better answer to give you. I know many things, but it’s hard to know just how long they will be gone. It could take weeks for him to return to us.” His words make you frown. You feel conflicted, and you quickly realize that it probably should have been a good idea to have made a better backup plan before you actually got on that first plane. You taste that bitter feeling of disappointment again as the professor turns around, facing you with a small manilla packet with a number on it. When he hands it to you, you realize it contains a room key. You look up at him in confusion, and he gives you a reassuring smile.

    “You’re welcome to stay at the school for as long as you’d like while awaiting his return, if you are comfortable of course.” You furrow your brow, opening your mouth to speak-  “-and no, I promise you won’t be inconveniencing anyone at all.” He finishes. You relax a little, smiling softly back at him.

    “...Thank you. I would appreciate that greatly.” Otto begins to caw again, rather peeved at the lack of attention he was receiving. As if he could understand Otto even better than you, Xavier is quick to speak up again.

    “Why don’t we start with getting the two of you something to eat? I know your journey must have been very tiresome.”

     Oh, did he have any idea.

     In the weeks that go by while you stay at the mansion, you try to make yourself useful. You're certainly no certified teacher, but when the professor asks you to help out with a few classes, who are you to say no? In time, this place that seemed so unusual and yet welcoming was just another factor of life. Kids are comfortable in their own skin, unafraid of being discriminated against, being taught by other mutants just like themselves. Being taught by you, sometimes. It felt good. And yet, there's still a part of you that hears Stephan's words ringing in your head, no matter how hard you try to shake it.

    You make friends while you're here. Many of which come and go as members of the X-men, and yet every time the Blackbird lands, the one person you want to see is absent. Jean is the first one you become close with. She’s kind, and you find that the two of you have similar taste in books. The first time you met, she recognized you before you could even introduce yourself. 

    “You're Kurt's friend?” She had asked, and although you felt a little strange with the title, you very quickly became known as Kurt’s Friend with the other X-men as well. Sure, they weren't wrong, but you were a bit more than friends, weren't you? You felt like you were. All this time making friends with the others, having movie nights and going out together with Jean, Ororo, and Rogue… It should have made you feel like you were settling in- and sure, it had. But the longer you stay here, the more anxious you become. 

    Every time you look in the mirror, you remember just how different you are now. You were barely 17 the last time you saw Kurt, and it's been many years since then. You've changed. He's changed no doubt. What did he look like now? Did he still think of you? Does he remember your promise, and is he mad at you for taking so long to find him? Surely, he wouldn’t be, right? You've heard from the others that he had bounced around a few places before landing here, so it's not like he made himself easy to find. These anxious thoughts overwhelmed you, and the past still followed you like a dark cloud.

    You feel like you’re burning up when your eyes flick open. Your bed is warm and the sheets are sweaty, your heart still pounding with fear as you shake off the nightmare. Otto is gone, the window cracked open from his nightly escapades, but you know he'll return in the early hours of the morning. Your hands are burning painfully again, and when you turn on your bedside lamp, you can't help but stare at the scars on your hands. You haven’t had full feeling in them since the fire, and yet that phantom pain, just like the nightmares, refuses to leave you.

    You dream about that night often. You dream about the bodies. The smell of charred flesh and fur. You dream about Nyla, speaking to you in that wise way of hers as she burns and melts into the vision of her corpse you have never been able to shake. You used to run out to the stables on nights like this, fresh after the incident. Your dad had bought Bubbles at auction after she was deemed unfit to perform, so you would talk to her until you had calmed. Nowadays, you'd call your dad and ask him to check on her. Tell her you loved her and missed her. But tonight, you simply venture into the kitchen instead.

   You don't bother turning the lights on, having walked the path from the cup cabinets and to the water filter a few too many times before. It's not the first time you've been up this late at night, and it's far from the last. You still feel hot and overwhelmed, choosing one particular seat at the island that just happens to be under the air vent. The cool air brushes against your skin in a welcome prickle, and you quietly take in the feeling.

    The lamp in the corner turns on in a flash, and you jump violently in surprise. Logan is standing there with a hand on the string, cocking an eyebrow at you. You sigh, hand over your heart as the rapid beating begins to slow only slightly. 

    “You scared me.” You whisper, hardly having enough energy to do anything but rub your eyes and take a deep breath. You hear Logan hum in response as he leaves the lamp and strolls behind the counter, opening the fridge and beginning to look through it.

    “Third time this week.” He says, but you don’t really understand him.

    “What?” You ask, but he doesn't respond. Instead, he pulls out a soda from the back of the fridge and offers one to you. You shake your head at him, and he shrugs. The soda can clicks as he cracks it open, sitting across the island from you. 

    “Third time this week you’ve been up this late.” He clarifies, after taking a long sip. You let out a small “oh” in response, frowning as you look down at your water. The two of you sit in silence for a while, before Logan speaks up.

    “...They getting worse again?” He asks. You bite your lip, not really knowing how to respond. You don’t really know what to think about the fact that you’ve been here long enough for Logan to establish your sleep patterns well enough to know you’ve had nightmares this often. You know he’s probably aware that you’ve had far more nightmares this week just by your scent in the mornings, but you’re thankful that he doesn’t say anything. 

    “...Yeah.” Is all you can muster at the moment. Logan takes another sip, and you’re once again grateful at the fact that he doesn’t look like he pities you for it. Hell, with the bare minimum you knew about him, you were sure he probably related to the restless nights. It’s quiet between you for a time, the two of you sharing the silence almost comfortingly if it weren't for the heavy topic. He doesn’t pry about your dreams, and you don’t ask about his own. 

   “Do you think he’ll like me, when I see him again?” You whisper eventually. Logan looks at you, and he doesn’t have to ask who you’re talking about. After all, who else would it be?

    “Do you think he won’t?” Logan returns. You press your lips into a line, thinking.

    “I don’t know.” Logan scoffs at that, and you give him a look that he rolls his eyes at. “I haven’t seen him since we were kids, Logan. I don’t know what to expect.”

    “Exactly. You haven’t seen him in years- but you’re here. Aren’t you? And we already knew who you were when you showed up. Isn’t that enough to prove to you he still cares?” Logan’s tone is blunt, and you wish you could agree with him, but you don’t. You stare down at your palms again, and if Logan notices, he doesn't say anything. 

    It’s been two months since you’ve been at the school. You help out here and there, fill in for the others when they need a substitute, and do anything that makes you feel less like a freeloader, really. No one can say for sure where Kurt is, and you get the feeling that the others cannot really talk about it. As long as he was safe, that’s all that matters. Not that you really knew if he was or not. 

    There’s a field trip today. Ororo, Rouge, and Scott are absent on X-men duties, so you volunteer as a chaperone so that Jean and Logan aren’t overrun by the students. The morning starts early. You load kids onto the bus, hand out some mini-muffins for breakfast, and Jean finishes the role call while waiting for Logan. The bus is a little older and the seats are rather cramped, but the air is electric with the kid’s excitement despite the early hour. Otto is by your side as always, choosing to ride with you for once instead of flying overhead. The kids are smothering him with attention and feeding him muffin crumbs, and he lavishes in it. Logan rolls his eyes at the bird when he finally gets on, and the students cheer as the bus begins to move. You were sure many of them hadn’t been to a natural history museum before, and you hadn’t either. Their excitement was contagious, and you quickly find yourself looking forward to the day ahead 

    That energy from the morning is a distant memory when the fire alarm in the museum begins to go off. Walls have crumbled, the building is smoking, and the footsteps of sentinels are loud as they wreck everything in sight. You keep your kids close, constantly counting heads as you try to lead them to safety. But the smoke is thick, and your palms are once again burning as you try to shake your past while braving the present. 

    The students had been separated into three groups earlier that day, one for each of the chaperones, and you all had different schedules for the museum while agreeing to meet up at the pavilion for lunch at a specific time. It had started as such a good day. But good things never last, do they? Not for you, they didn't. 

    Some of your students are crying, others coughing from the smoke, and the older ones are simply tired. It’s hard to see where you’re going, the smoke mixed with the dim and dark museum lights a bad combination. You can still hear the distant footsteps of the two large sentinels that interrupted the day, and every once in a while, the bone-chilling sound of their blasts. The hallways are empty as you try to find the emergency exit, most of the other guests taking the chance to bolt out the most obvious ones-or hell, the holes in the walls that had been blasted open by the sentinels as they wrecked the place. But you weren’t any other guests, you were mutants, and that meant getting out of danger by taking the least obvious exit possible. 

    You don’t know where the fire is, but you know it’s raging within the building. You needed to get these kids out, and soon- but as you continue to follow each and every glowing sign pointing to the exit, the smoke only gets thicker. The building begins to shake again, and some of the students cry a little louder. You’re counting heads again when everything stops, and a sharp caw meets your ears. Otto swoops in, a shadow in the dark hallway as he lands nearby, chest heaving. The sight of him only makes you panic more. He knows he can’t be in here- the smoke is too much for his lungs, deadly for a bird of any size. 

    There’s an exit close by! The staff have propped open the doors because the fire is spreading faster- He hacks something horrible, a noise that only makes your anxiety worse. The guy with the attitude problem is leading the sentinels away, but you gotta get out of here soon. You swear under your breath, and as you turn to count heads one more time before instructing your group, you become aware of a tugging from the girl clinging to you.

    “Where’s Alyah?” She asks, right as ice shoots through your veins. You’re missing two. 

    Oh god. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!

    Theres no time for this. You can’t dwell on it, not now. The students are scared, faces a reflection of terror as you look at them all. The plan comes out of your mouth before you have time to think it through enough.

    “Jan, I need you to do something for me.” The teen steps forward nervously. The eldest of the group, Jan was 17, with a shielding mutation that was stronger than Vibranum with the proper focus. “Alyah and her brother are missing, and I need to go find them.” Jan starts to shake their head, already ahead of you.

    “No, no no. I can’t-” They begin. You step forward, placing your palms on their cheeks in an attempt to soothe, making them look at you.

    “Yes, you can. Look at me. Otto is going to show you the way out, I just need you to keep everyone together, and prepare to shield in case the building goes down. I know you can do this. I’ll meet you out there as soon as I can, I just need you to get everyone else out first, Okay? Okay?” They're still shaking their head no, but you don't have any other choice. The last thing you want to do is put this all on someone so young, but you needed Jan to be strong for both themselves and the others. Otto Caws again as the building starts to shake, and you know the time for this conversation is up. You take a step back as the youngest of the group begins to hold onto Jan. They look at you, and then the others, and then back at you. They purse their lips and nod, and you know they’re going to be okay. 

    You only stay long enough to make sure the entirety of the students in your group are following Otto to the exit before you quickly retrace your steps down the smokey hallway. The building continues to shake, metal and concrete bending and screaming as you desperately try to figure out where the two kids could have gone. You counted all 15 at the paleontology section, and again at the hominin artifacts… 

    You can’t begin to panic. Not now. Eventually, you have to stop. You breathe as deeply as you can, and you try to gather your senses. There’s no one to ask, no animal or bird or person, and in times like these you wish your mutant ability had been anything else- and then you hear it.

    There’s muffled cries coming from the adjacent room. You quickly make your way over, stepping over debris and fallen statues, and in the corner of this small room is Alyah and her brother, Malachi. You breathe a sigh of relief, rushing over to them as they call out your name.

    “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” You ask them, trying to be as calm as possible. Malachi only cries, rushing forward to hug you. 

    “I’m sorry.” Alyah cries, grabbing ahold of your shirt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get lost. Malachi tripped- and I was trying to help him but when we got up we didn’t see you and-” You shush her, gathering her in a big hug with her brother. 

    “It’s okay! You’re okay. We just need to leave, alright? We need to leave now.” You tell her, doing your best to still stay calm. She doesn't have time to respond before the building rumbles again, sending the three of you unsteady on your feet as the ground begins to shake. There’s a screech above you, and you barley manage to cover the heads of the two young mutants as the doorway collapses into rubble. No, no no no. The kids begin to cry louder, scared. Mindless reassurances fall from your mouth as you stare in horror, trapped in the room with no way out. 

    The kids curl into your arms, and you don't know what to do. Another loud rumble makes you flinch as the shaking gets worse. You pull them in close, hunching over them as they sob. The room smells like sulfur and brimstone, the noise of the building too loud to hear anything else as the bones of the museum begin to give out, crumbling on top of you.

    A second later, your head is spinning.

    The warmth of the stuffy, smokey room is gone, replaced by the cool air of the breeze. Someone's arms fall away from you, and when you open your eyes, you're outside. Your heart is still beating like it's going to give out as you whisper to Alyah and Malachi that everything is okay, leaning back enough to check on them, brushing hair away from their face and making sure that you're all here, somehow.

    “Are all of you alright?” A voice behind you asks- and it's… familiar. 

    It's like the world stills. You see the look on Malachi's face when he recognizes the figure of one of his teachers, a bright smile spreading across his cheeks as he pulls away from you and bolts for the man.

    “Nightcrawler!” The boy cheers. Your eyes follow him as he jumps into the arms of a familiar face. Elf-like ears. Yellow eyes, and fuzzy blue skin. You stand in shock, Kurt swinging Malachi around in a big hug as Alyah joins her brother and Latches onto him as tight as she can muster. He's saying something to them, but you can't hear it past the blood thats rushing in your ears.

    “Kurt?” His name comes out a little more broken than you intended, but he hears it all the same. The smile on his face instantly drops as his head snaps away from the kids and over to the spot where you stand. He's frozen for a second, but the recognition in his eyes is immediate. Kurt sets Malachi down carefully before disappearing completely. It takes only a fraction of a second before he's back again in a puff of smoke and his arms are tightly wound around you.

    “You’re here? Mein Gott, I cannot believe that you are actually here.” He says airily, almost in complete disbelief. You're hugging him back just as tightly, face buried in his chest as your hands clutch at the fabric of his suit. You don't know what to say. You've been looking for years, and then you waited for months knowing he's right at your fingertips. And now that he's finally here, you don't have any words. His face is full of joy when he pulls back a bit, hands coming to cup your cheeks as he takes a good look at you.

    “Look at you, more beautiful than ever!” Kurt cheers, and your hands come up to hold his wrists as you shake your head and laugh at him. He hasn't changed, has he? His smile falters only slightly when he sees the scars on your hands, but he looks up before he says anything, and his eyes go wide with panic. 

   You’re gone from the spot instantly, Kurt having teleported you to the kids, grabbed them, and teleported away before you could even form a thought about the situation. Once you get your bearings, you realize the four of you are far, far away from the spot where you had been standing, and in your place is a crater of smoke and ash, a sentinel now standing in your place. Its head moves, searching for the mutants it had missed, but you don't see it for long as Kurt grabs you by the shoulders. 

    “I've got this from here. I just need you to get back to the bus. Jean and the other students are waiting there already.” His face is serious, his brows furrowed, and completely different than you had ever seen before. You nod, reluctant to leave him the moment you finally had him back- but he gives you a reassuring smile, and you realize he already knows. 

   “I’ll be back for you, Schatz. I promise.” He pulls you close again, pressing a quick kiss to your temple, and as quick as he came, he’s gone once again.

I wanted to make an butch transfem oc- I might change her a bit in the future