#took a leap with me and went beyond sometimes without realizing what they did was bigger than they knew | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itsdanii · 3 years

Note

Ahhh, your rejecting and regretting series is so good, my heart 🥺❤️ Can you do another one but with kuroo and kenma? You can ignore this request if you don’t wanna do it, I love your writing style and your blog! Stay safe and have a good day! 💞💞

Hey, bub! Thank you so much for the kind words, I appreciate it ♥️ I hope you don't mind me doing this only for Kenma. I got carried away so it got quite longer than I intended 🤦‍♀️ Anyway, here's your request! I hope you like it ♥️ Have a good day, stay safe and hydrated! Mwah!

a/n: read the note on the last part.

Rejecting and Regretting 6

genre: angst to fluff

warning/s: cursing, do message me if i missed any

a/n: please do read the warnings before you proceed. warnings have been put there for a reason.

ft. timeskip!kenma kozume

title says it all

Masterlist | Updates

Kenma Kozume

When you moved in to your apartment, you never expected your neighbor to be THE Kenma Kozume

If truth be told, you've been a fan of his ever since he started streaming

You knew that he didn't know you nor would he pay attention to you so you did not bother telling him that you were a big fan - the first one to always comment when he starts streaming

Not only did you think that it may make him uncomfortable but also make him feel like you were only trying to befriend him for his reputation

One night, as you were coming back from a short trip to the grocery store, you were walking with your earphones in and nose pointed on the screen while rewatching one of his videos

What you didn't know was that Kenma was walking behind you and was actually staring as you smiled and giggled while watching

You almost squealed when a hand came on your shoulder, almost punching the person behind you

Oddly, that was the starting point of your friendship

Although Kenma was hesitant at first (duh, you almost punched him) , he slowly eased when he felt that you were genuine

You basically went from neighbors to roommates because of how often you went to his unit, just playing random games and having occasional sleepovers

It wasn't long then when you realized that your "fangirling" towards the streamer developed into something more

You realized that you were no longer looking at him as the Kodzuken of the gaming world but just Kenma Kozume

You knew that you were fucked and thus you tried hiding it, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't

So you came up with a solution - confess. You decided that you would take the leap, confess, and hope that everything would turn out well, not knowing that it was only one sided

You shifted from one foot to another as you waited for Kenma to open the door of his unit.

Earlier, you both planned another sleepover and you took the initiative to cook dinner for the two of you instead of ordering another takeout.

As you waited, you could feel your stomach grumbling as the scent of the freshly baked sushi wafted in the air.

To be honest, you weren't really a good cook but you taught yourself how to with the help of youtube and cookbooks. You weren't even planning on learning how to do it but you were getting bored of takeouts, plus, you also wanted to impress Kenma even for a bit.

When the door finally opened, you smiled widely at Kenma while showing the food you made.

"Told you to not bother knocking and just make your way inside," he muttered before taking the pan from you and letting you in.

"Unlike you, I have my manners, Kozume," you playfully said as you plopped yourself on the couch head first.

Hearing him mumbling something under his breath as he arranged the table, you propped your elbow on the couch to watch him with a small pout playing on your lips. Your eyes followed his every movement and you couldn't help but question how someone could look so perfect.

His hair was a mess in a half bun and he was wearing nothing fancy, just his old sweatpants and a hoodie. Despite that, he still managed to look like a model, specifically those who preferred the "woke up like this" look.

"Y/n, are you going to eat or not?"

You blinked your eyes when you noticed the frown plastered on Kenma's face. Immediately, you stood up and walked over to the table with a small blush on your cheeks after being caught daydreaming.

"Sorry," you said sheepishly.

Kenma's apartment was then filled with the sounds of utensils clanking and small conversations the two of you were sharing.

Even though it seemed like Kenma wasn't paying attention, you knew that he was listening. You were aware of how much he preferred listening and observing more than talking anyway. It's just that you wished that he would talk more around you.

Somewhere in your conversation, you tried hinting your feelings towards him. In fact, you think that it was pretty obvious, but it seemed like Kenma didn't notice - that or he was purposely avoiding to indulge you.

"Getting in a relationship with a fan isn't boring you know? It actually sounds exciting, to be honest."

At that, Kenma heaved a sigh which instinctively made you shut up.

His eyes were already casted on the food infront of him instead of you, eyebrows furrowed as if he was suddenly put in a bad mood. "I dont... really like this topic," Kenma said with a dismissive tone.

You felt your heart drop upon hearing that.

You've already practiced your confession several times and there was no way you'd let such words discourage you that easily. All you knew was that you had to get it out of your chest - now or never.

You placed your utensils down and looked at him straight in the eye despite him trying to avoid your gaze. "Why not, Kozume?" you asked, trying to push him to talk.

"I just don't see the point. Why would you want to date your fan? That's... weird," he simply answered, "What if they don't really like you? There's a high chance that a fan would date their idols because of popularity and fame. It's nothing but a self satisfaction."

"Hmm... I guess you do have a point," you said with a nod.

Placing your elbow on top of the table, chin resting on your palm, you pointed at yourself with your free hand which made Kenma look at you with one eyebrow raised. "Then what if it's me who wants to date you? Im a fan of yours, after all. Would you also reject me?" you asked hopefully.

Without wasting any second, Kenma answered, "Of course. Why would I date you?"

You didn't know how to react upon hearing that. You wanted to believe that he was trying to tease you but there weren't any signs of that from the tone of his voice. Moreover, he had nothing but a serious expression on his face.

"Because I like you," you answered with a low voice.

That simple phrase caused the silence to enevelope the two of you. The anticipation made your hands feel clammy to the point that you had to let go of your utensils to grip the sweatpants your were wearing.

Silently, you stared at each other as if waiting for the other person to break the silence - until Kenma did.

"Well, I don't." Standing up, Kenma took his plate and placed it on the sink, his back turned against you as he continued, "I think I'm going to stream for a bit. Make yourself comfortable."

You stared at Kenma as he made his way to his room wordlessly. "Make myself comfortable? Just who the fuck would say that after rejecting someone?" you muttered under your breath.

Knowing that it would be pointless to distract him while streaming, you started to clean the table and proceeded on washing the plates. As you were doing so, you whispered a curse when a tear suddenly slid down your cheeks.

You weren't supposed to cry. You prepared for this so you should've been able to take the rejection properly, right? He was Kenma Kozume after all. Although you became close with each other, it seemed as if he was really beyond your reach.

And now you ruined the only thing keeping you close to him - your friendship.

You decided to leave his unit after that. You felt that proceeding with the sleepover would only put a tense atmosphere between the two of you. Moreover, he did shut you out, right? Though he told you to make yourself comfortable, the way he acted said otherwise.

Maybe he only said it not to hurt your feelings.

"As if he hadn't already," you murmured, shutting and locking the door behind you.

In hopes of cheering yourself up, you decided to take a warm shower and pamper yourself to he point that skincare products basically littered your vanity when you finished and don't forget the fact that you ended up smelling like a strawberry because of your bodywash.

By the time you went to bed, you were feeling a little better... or were you?

As you laid on your bed, staring at the wall beside you while hugging a pillow close to your chest, your mind suddenly went back to what happened awhile ago.

You thought of how dismissive he seemed towards you. He wasn't always like that. Kenma had always been enthusiastic when you're around. Sometimes you would even end up watching beside him as he streams.

What changed?

Groaning, you buried your face on your pillow when you felt yourself tearing up once again. "Tomorrow will be better," you mumbled against the soft material as you slowly allowed yourself to fall asleep.

It didn't.

In fact, it got worse.

Not only was Kenma avoiding you, he was also acting as if he didn't know you - as if you didn't exist.

Earlier this morning when you were taking the trash out, you waved at him in hopes of lightening up the mood, but instead of usually greeting you, Kenma didn't even spare you a glance. He basically walked pass you without saying anything.

At first, you thought that maybe he didn't see you. Maybe his mind was elsewhere while walking. That could be possible right?

But when it continued for several more days, you realized that he was indeed avoiding you.

You felt a mixture of pain and anger. You were supposed to be the one avoiding him since it was him who rejected you but why was it the other way around? He could've atleast talked to you, let alone smile. Did he not value even just your friendship?

As the days went on, you were slowly getting tired of being the only one to put effort on rekindling your relationship. It was exhausting to keep on chasing over someone who didn't even acknowledged you.

Maybe you were just a bother to him after all.

So despite your will to keep on getting his attention, you decided to stop. If he didn't want you then so be it. You already confessed and did your best to show him that you're genuine. That's all that matters.

Kenma stared at your door beside his intensely, hand mid-air to turn the knob of his own unit.

It had been two weeks since he last saw you and for the third time of the day, he was yet again met with nothing but silence when he tried knocking on your door.

Where were you?

He knew that how he acted towards you was unreasonable but he didn't expected himself to wake up feeling like shit everyday without seeing you. He did this. He pushed you away. He said he didn't like you, right?

Groaning frustratedly, Kenma entered his unit, heading straight to his streaming room to cool off his head. If he couldn't see you personally, then perhaps he could at least see your name on his viewers.

He knew you always watched his stream and how you would always be the first to comment. Sometimes, you would even donate a huge amount of cash as a tip even though you always complained about being broke.

"They're not watching?" Kenma said unconsciously as he noticed how your name wasn't on the list.

That instantly caused a ruckus in his stream's comment section. Several fans kept on asking who Kodzuken was referring to and some even got the right answer since he streamed with you several times already.

But instead of saying anything, Kenma stayed silent. He focused on his game, occasionally shifting his eyes to the comment section and interacting with his fans.

His eyes, however, caught one comment. It was a link with the caption "Isn't this y/n?". Out of curiosity, Kenma decided to check it, finding out that you were indeed the person in the video.

No, it wasn't a video. It was a live stream of someone like him - a player.

And there you were, seated beside the unfamiliar person with a fluffy blanket wrapped around your body and your your head resting on their shoulder.

Who was that and why did you look too comfy?

"Sorry, guys. I'll have to end the stream now. Something important came up," Kenma said with a small wave before ending his stream.

Stalking the other streamer's socials, Kenma frowned upon noticing several pictures of you attached in their instagram. They were even posted just a few days ago which meant that you must've been spending time with them throughout the days you weren't at home.

Something stirred inside Kenma. It was an unpleasant feeling blooming inside his chest, clawing at him and making him realize one important thing.

He was in love with you.

And it was only confirmed when he remembered how nervous he was when you confessed, how scared he was when he heard the door shutting after he rejected you, and how stupid he was for only realizing it now.

"Shit," he whispered to himself as he quickly tapped on his phone, his finger hovering over your number, debating wether or not should he dial.

Suddenly, he shifted his gaze on the monitor of his pc which was still displaying the unfamiliar streamer when he noticed how you snuggled closer to their side.

Muttering anther curse, Kenma clicked on your number, his eyes focused on the montior of his laptop as he watched you picking up your phone.

"Please pick up," he pleaded when he noticed the frown on your face.

It took him a full 5 minutes and several dials to finally make you give in. He watched as you whispered something on the person beside you before making your way out of the room.

On cue, your voice suddenly met his ear.

"Kozume?"

It was still as soft as he could remember and with the fact that he finally admitted his feelings, his cheeks burned when he felt his heart racing.

Say it. Say it.

Say you like her.

"I-" pausing for a moment to rethink his words, Kenma sighed deeply before answering, "I'm sorry for being mean."

Fuck.

He was met with silence from the other side and for a moment, he got scared that you dropped the call.

It was until he heard some rustling sound that he realized you were still there and was purposely trying to stay quiet.

"Can we talk about this in person?" you said with a tiny voice.

Out of panic, Kenma nodded, forgetting that he was ralking to you over the phone and not in person. Mentally smacking himself, he answered, "Yes. I'd prefer that."

And I'd prefer if you're here instead of that caveman's room.

"Then, I'll be there in 20."

The moment Kenma heard someone knocking, he was quick to open the door.

His lips basically parted at the sight of you. It was only two weeks and yet why did it felt like he hadn't seen you in a month?

"Kozu-"

"I'm sorry," he cut you off, arms wrapping around you as soon as you stepped inside his apartment.

He felt how your body became stiff in his hold and without wasting any chance, he poured everything out. "I'm sorry for how I acted towards you. I treated you as if you were the last person I wanted to be with and when I didn't see you for several days, I realized how much I hurt your feelings." He took a deep breath, eyes focusing on you as he gripped your shoulders slightly. "Forgive me? I promise that I'll make it up to you."

Kenma hoped that you could notice the genuineness in his voice. He wasn't the type of person to talk too much but for you, he'd do it if it means having you forgive him and give him another chance.

"It's... alright, Kozume," you answered with a small smile.

"It's alright?" Kenma asked slowly. He knew that he should be happy that you forgave him easily but the way you said it made it seem like you were only forcing yourself.

It's like you didn't mean it.

"W-what do you mean it's alright?" he repeated.

"It means exactly what it means. I don't really see the point of holding a grudge against you, you know? You rejected me and I accepted it." Shrugging your shoulders, you walked pass him and went to sit on the couch. "I guess I just got too ahead of myself. I mean, you're Kenma Kozume, the Kodzuken of the gaming world. It would be impossible for you to like me, right? Sorry if I made you uncomfortable with my confession."

Kenma swallowed the lump forming inside his throat, eyes darting away from your figure as he shook his head no. "No... That's not true."

"What do yo-"

"I like you. How could you ever think that low of yourself?" he said, finally looking at you before he walking towards your direction. "It's not Kodzuken to you, y/n. Kozume - just Kozume. I don't want you to think that I'm someone all high and mighty just because people acknowledge me. I don't care about that. I want you. I want you to look at me the same way you did before. I want you to keep on clinging to me and to keep on cooking for me despite not knowing how to. I want you to like me again. I just want you.."

You felt your eyes well up with tears. After a long time of pining over someone you thought you wouldn't be able to reach, it was finally here - the moment you finally manage to hear the words you've longed to hear from him.

"D-do you mean that?" you asked with a small sob, your hand covering your face as you felt yourself being lifted and placed on Kenma's lap. "What if you're only saying that to make me feel better?"

"Of course I mean it. I was too stupid being scared of acknowledging my feelings towards you that I ended up rejecting you. I'm sorry." Gently, Kenma rubbed your back as he kept you in his arms, words of apologies continue slipping past his lips as he waited for you to stop crying.

"If I told you I still like you, would you promise not to treat me like shit again?" you asked while wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. "You were really mean to me, Kozu."

"I'd promise," Kenma answered with a nod.

Looking at him, you sniffled one more time. "Then I still like you," you said without taking your eyes off him.

You didn't fail to notice how Kenma's cheeks turned a lighter shade of red and the thought of how he got more flustered by your second confession than the fact that you were seated on his lap made you smile a little.

"Oh," Kenma uttered, as if suddenly not knowing how to react.

"You're supoosed to kiss me like those cliche movies," you said while encircling your arms around his neck.

Kenma's blushed even deeper after hearing that. Gulping, he gave a stiff nod before leaning in and finally planting his lips on yours.

His lips were soft against yours. Despite how tense he was at the beginning, he slowly managed to relax, fingers interlocking with your hair as he kept on moving his lips in synch with yours, both of your eyes closed as you savored the moment.

You felt yourself smiling in your kiss as you realized something - no longer were you just a fan but his s/o.

If you're reading this, hello.

I've decided that this will be the last part of the rejecting and regretting series. Though I had a lot of fun writing these, I'm no longer satisfied with how I'm writing them. The scenes were slowly becoming repetitive as well as the words. I'm craving for something new- something fresh that I've yet to explore. It was quite overwhelming how much people loved this series and I'm very thankful for that so I feel a little bad that this would be the last one. Don't worry, I still have some stuff brewing up that I hope you'd all enjoy.

Thank you so much for the love, support, and most importantly, for reading the series up until this last one. ♥️

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seriouslysnape · 3 years

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With a student aged Sev, could you do one where the school is having a ball, and it’s girl’s choice where the girls are the ones who ask for dates. Sev hears a rumor or something that his friend that he loves has asked some other guy, so he’s devastated. In reality, that’s not true, and she’s always planned on asking him, but has just been busy. He’s all down, but then can’t believe it once she asks and is unbelievably excited and stressed over what to wear and so on. And the ending is just a lot of fluff and romance, please?

SO. CUTE. I actually got a little emotional writing this, hahahahah.

(Below the cut) :)

The Spring Formal

Young Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2,191

“How many times have we heard things about other students that weren’t true?”

It had been all the rage through Hogwarts for the last couple of weeks. Hogwarts was hosting a spring ball, somewhat similar to the Yule Ball that always took place in the winter. Hogwarts’ witches and wizards would dress in their most formal clothes and have the time of their lives for one night of the year. Young wizards would shake in their robes when trying to ask their witch of choice to accompany them.

However, everyone soon learned that there was a catch.

For this dance, the girls were to ask the boys.It was a totally different idea than everyone was used to. All the boys were on their best behavior in hopes that they could get the attention of the cute girl from their Potions or Charms class. It was a totally exciting role reversal.

The only person who wasn’t thrilled about this was young seventh year Severus Snape.

Severus had always been reserved, and everyone knew it. He kept his head lowered at all times and only spoke when spoken to (and sometimes not even that). He was textbook insecure and doubtful of everything about himself. He was sure that no girl would want to go with him, but there was one that he desperately wanted the hand of. You had been his friend for years now. You were strikingly different than he was, which is why he supposed he was just so fond of you.

He could only ever dream of being as outgoing as you were. With this hope in mind, he found himself in your presence more than usual.He would walk you to your classes that you didn’t have together, sit next to you in the classes that you did, and even carry your books for you most days. He tried to be more talkative, striking up conversations that he normally wouldn’t.

He would compliment your outfit and ignore the burning blush that embarrassedly appeared on his cheeks when he did so. He wanted nothing more than to go to this spring formal with you. That wish fizzled out into disappointment, however, when he heard some classmates talking in his Potions class.

“Can you believe that she asked Remus Lupin to the dance?” A young Slytherin boy said from in front of Severus.

His friend leaned over, matching his friend’s whisper, but still loud enough that Severus could hear every unmistakable word.

“Yeah, I know. [Y/N] had the pick of the litter and that’s who she went with? It’s a bloody shame. I could’ve shown her a better time.” He sneered.

Severus felt his heart seemingly sink into his shoes. It was true that lots of wizards were hoping you’d ask them. You were rather popular after all and stunningly beautiful. Severus had just had a glimmer of hope that you would’ve seen something a little different in him. That you’d want to ask him over everybody else. He supposed he was wrong.

In his saddened focus, he accidentally tipped over his cauldron spilling the beginnings of whatever potion he had been making. The class erupted into laughter, causing the tears that were already stinging at Severus’ eyes to go spilling down his pale cheeks. He ran out of the class in a hurry, not wanting to see anyone for the rest of the day. His robes were drenched with this sticky potion, the bottoms of his shoes making this horrible squelching noise with each step he took. He was zooming through the halls to get back to the Slytherin tower, but stopped when he bumped into someone else.

He didn’t bother with an apology, but felt his blood run cold when he saw it was you.You briefly shook your head to recover from almost getting knocked over, smiling casually when you saw it was him.

“Woah, hey, Severus!” You piped, readjusting your own robes.

Your smile faded into a frown when you saw the orange colored potion dripping from his clothes, and his reddened, glassy eyes. Before you could ask, he brushed you off and ran down the hall.

“I have to go.”

He was hurt, and now dreading going to this dance alone. He avoided you at all costs now, which you noticed was odd in comparison to the way he had been right on your heels. You tried to reach out to him, but he just gave you the cold shoulder at every attempt. The next week went by, and the more people that had dates, the more irritated Severus became. It was already bad enough that he had a hateful passion for Remus Lupin, along with his other friends that made their lives about torturing Severus.

You were so kind, so loving. He couldn’t make sense of how you could possibly go with someone like him. The dance was only two days away now, and Severus was beginning to toy with the idea of not going at all. He didn’t want to be the only one without a date, and he definitely didn’t want to be alone all night. He sulked as he fiddled with a stick out near the Quidditch fields.

He sometimes liked to get away from the castle when things were rough. He lazily dragged the stick through the dirt, poking at a small beetle as it scuttled by with a fellow pal.

Lucky beetle.

He sighed heavily as he continued to pout, almost not noticing the new presence that had placed themself next to him. He looked over hesitantly, and had to fight the urge to get up and leave without saying a word. But you just looked so concerned that he couldn’t bring himself to go. So he stayed put, but returned his gaze to the stick in his hand.

“Hello.” He said dryly.

“Hi,” You acknowledged him. A silence went by, so you pressed on; “You want to tell me what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He lied.

You scoffed, forcing him to look at you.

“Please. You know you’ve been ignoring me. If I’ve done something, I want you to tell me.” You said almost as a plea.

Now it was his turn to scoff with a scowl.

“Why don’t you ask your boyfriend? Since he’s so interesting and all.” He barked, tossing the stick away in an aggravated manner.

You were annoyed with his tone, but more confused as to what he was he was on about. You furrowed your brows and scrunched your nose at him.

“What?” You queried, completely lost; “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“So I guess your date to the dance is just a friend?” He asked sarcastically.

You were beyond puzzled. Boyfriend? Date to the dance? Where was he coming up with this stuff?

“Severus, enough. Just tell me what you’re talking about.” You said, fed up with his guessing game.

“Lupin, [Y/N], I’m talking about Lupin.”

That’s when you felt the lightbulb go off in your head. Realization came crashing over you like an ocean wave on a shore. You had heard the rumors that you had asked Remus Lupin to the spring dance, but you denied them, considering that they weren’t true. Remus was already going with someone else, but you had wanted to ask someone else. A knowing smile crossed over your face. Severus was brutally jealous.

“Oh, Sev...” You breathed out; “I didn’t ask Remus to the dance.”

You swear you saw a shimmer of joy wipe across his dark eyes. His heart did a happy leap.

“You didn’t?” He asked softly, suddenly ashamed of how he had been acting.

“No!” You laughed, leaning your head on his shoulder as you giggled.

“But...they said that-”

“Come on, S. You should know by now how stuff gets started around here,” You pointed out; “How many times have we heard things about other students that weren’t true?”

Severus pondered on that for a second. You had a fair point. Hogwarts was notorious for meddling, gossiping kids. He was relieved, but a new question crossed his mind.

“The dance is in two days. Are you going to ask someone?” He asked, not even thinking that you might want to ask him.

“Why else do you think I’m out here with you now?” You posed.

He paused hard, hardly believing what he was hearing.

“You...want to go with me? Why did you wait so long to ask?” He questioned.

You were a little offended that he asked you that, but were mostly amused. You lifted your head from his shoulder and looked at him.

“Well, I’ve been trying, but you run away from me every time I try to talk to you. On top of that, I’ve been slammed with work,” You explained; “But better late than never, right?”

He agreed with a shy smile, apologizing for his behavior and making up with you. It wasn’t until you left that he felt a surge of a thrill. He had a lot of preparation to do.

He sprinted back to his dorm and to his trunk, digging through his clothes trying to find something spiffy to wear. His outfit had to be nothing less than perfect. He liked you a lot, and he wanted to make you look good. Although, you’d look amazing with or without him in his best clothes.

He tossed pants, shirts, socks, and everything else that wasn’t good enough over his shoulder. He went through all the way to the bottom of his trunk before finding something suitable. He bounced up with relief, thankful that he found something on such short notice. He made sure to try it on to make sure that it still fit. Much to his pleasure, it did.

After the outfit was settled, a new concern sprang to mind. Should he get you flowers? Chocolates? Maybe a present? He was sure he was overthinking everything, but he wanted to be the very best date he could be, as your friend and possible future lover. With a little help from his Herbology professor, he was able to get a hold of some flowers that would be ready the afternoon of the dance.

He was bright with giddiness. He could barely wait for Saturday.

Saturday night came around, and Severus was shocked that he didn’t collapse when he saw you. His breath caught in his throat, he became lightheaded, and his heart raced like a car on a track. However, he was able to keep his composure and attend the dance with you. And he had the time of his life.He danced with you, laughed until his sides hurt, and he was sure that his cheeks would be permanently stuck from how much he had smiled. He never knew how amazing one person could make him feel.

By the end of the night, you both had sore feet from dancing, but happy hearts from being with one another. To get away from the hustle and bustle of everyone else, you two took a stroll around the outer perimeters of the castle. You both needed some fresh air and some quiet.

You were both still laughing and soaking up every moment together. You had both hit a positive spot in your lives. You stopped at the edge of the lake, mesmerized by the way the half-moon was glittering on the reflection on the surface. You stood side by side, now silently looking over the water and the small ripples.

“I had a really nice time tonight, [Y/N].” He spoke lowly, afraid for a moment that the feeling wasn’t mutual.

“Me too. I’m glad you came with me,” You replied; “This was the best night I’ve ever had.”

Suddenly, you felt a warm presence in your hand. Severus had slipped his hand into yours, entwining your fingers.

His thoughts were racing. He thought about how everything in his life had led to tonight...this exact moment. He always wondered if everything happened for a reason. He wondered if every second of life was connected. Had his small choices determined the big things in his life? The good and the bad things? If he had made one tiny, menial different decision somewhere down the line, would that have prevented him from making it to this moment in time?

Whatever the answer was, he was glad for whatever choice brought him here.

You saw that his eyes were dead set ahead, but the blush on his cheeks were evidence that he knew exactly what was he was doing. You could tell he was nervous, and he hadn’t been the entire night. You knew what he was thinking.

“Hey, Sev?” You called gently, his eyes diverting to you.

“Yes?” He replied.

“Just kiss me already.” You said with a smirk.

Before he could overthink it, his lips crashed into yours. His hands went to the sides of your face as yours settled on his shoulders. A million spastic fireworks were going off in your mind, body, and soul. Severus didn’t have a great life, but always felt like he’d know the moment that his life did finally begin.

And that moment was now.

#severus snape #severus #severus snape x reader #severus snape x you #severus snape x y/n #professor snape x reader #professor snape #professor snape x you #Harry Potter

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

Text

Dean’s Jeans 2

What better day to post a sweet little family oneshot than Mother’s Day? This is the same setup as Dean’s Jeans, just a different late summer afternoon on your cul-de-sac with Dean, Sam, your daughters, and their cousin DJ. I already have bare-bones drafts of a few other installments for these cuties, especially considering this one got a little deeper than I had intended. Stay tuned!

Title: Dean’s Jeans 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 5561

Summary: Spending the afternoon working on the driveway with Dean, Sam, your daughters, and nephew.

Warnings: fluff, some family angst, minor injury, little dollop of smut at the end

It was a big day for driveways and garages.

You had been sitting in the apron of Sam’s drawing loopy pastel paths with DJ and your eldest daughter for your youngest to roll her cousin’s old matchbox cars down, watching adoringly as everyone’s palms and knees got covered in chalk dust. When the concrete was relatively full and the older two started getting a little antsy, you decided to try to stave off any bored bickering ahead of time.

“Babe, is our garage unlocked?” you called over to Dean where he was trying to snake an extension cord out of Sam’s front door and down the porch.

“Should be. Why, what’s up?”

“I thought maybe DJ could take Picasso here over to the park to break in her new bike.” You turned to your nephew, sitting with his arms resting on his knees. He was just barely starting to fill out around the delicate Winchester features that had made him such an angelic looking child, the angle of his jaw seeming to sharpen every day, growing rapidly though you might still be able to throw him over your shoulder in a pinch. Hopefully it was a sign that he wasn’t destined for the late puberty you knew had frustrated Sam so much when he was younger; at least he could have one gift from his other parent, lost otherwise to the wind without as much as a periodic birthday card. Not the time for that thought, you reminded yourself, refocusing on the child’s glossy hair, carbon copy of his father’s with sun-lightened tips this late into summer. Dean would’ve taken him to get a haircut about a month ago, but as you and Sam both reminded him: not his hair, not his kid. It made you smile and likely made Sam proud that at his age, where so many kids were rebelling against their parents, DJ didn’t mind looking exactly like his dad. Somehow you had a hard time believing Sam would want to rush that process of teenage rebellion along. “What do you think, Deej?”

Your elder daughter squealed and threw her arms around his neck, nearly tackling him onto the driveway. “Please please? Maybe Sarah and Davey can come too.” Her inclusion of the Fiore siblings into the mix was smart. They lived between your cul de sac and the park and were pretty similar in age to DJ and your older daughter. You suspected she thought on some level that DJ was on the cusp of being too cool to hang out with his baby cousin, but hanging out with the Fiores as a group gave them a little more social grace. Hopefully she’d realize, as you had, that DJ absolutely adored her and would likely rather catch some flack from his peers than drift apart.

“Yeah but I’m not carrying your bike up the hill if your legs get tired,” he grinned at his cousin, who immediately took off across the street to get her bike from the garage.

Sam and Dean had to move their whole setup from in front of Sam’s garage door so DJ could get his own bike out, the step ladder, extension cord, and electric drill going into the lawn next to the rest of their project, the basketball hoop. He almost got to the end of the driveway, swinging his leg over the seat, before Sam stopped him. “Nice try. Helmet, please,” he called out after his son, who reluctantly dropped the mountain bike onto the pavement and trudged back into the garage to pull a sticker-covered helmet out of a box and throw it on his head. By the time he made it into the street his cousin had done the same, yelling out over her shoulder for you to Mommypleaseclosethegaragethankyou as she tried to pump petite legs to keep up.

You were thankful that your youngest seemed to be fully engrossed in the chalk patterns on the driveway and hadn’t seemed to notice the other kids’ leaving, not interested in having an argument about whether she was too little or not to go with them alone. Trusting the older kids or not, she was small and curious in a way that led to her sometimes running off to explore, and you didn’t want to add that into the mix. After a while, she picked up the green again, moving up the driveway to draw a picture of a dragon and immediately swipe hair out of her face, covering it with fluorescent dust. She got to her feet, and the amount of colorful powder on her made you beyond thankful that it was Dean’s turn to give her a bath that night. Crossing the driveway in a few skittering steps, she wrapped herself around Dean’s legs, practically leaving a silhouette imprint of herself on his jeans as he ruffled her hair. The way they had worn out and lost much of their dye over the years highlighted the contrast.

“Daddy, come look! It’s a dragon!”

Dean and Sam exchanged a smirk and Dean winked at you. “A dragon? Sounds scary.”

“No, he’s a nice dragon,” she insisted, grabbing his hand and dragging him down the driveway, leaving Sam to drill holes into the wood above his garage door.

“A nice dragon, huh? What’s his name?” Dean asked, grinning as he let her lead him.

“Maurice,” she said, so matter of fact it made you laugh out loud. Sam did too, pulling the drill out of the wall to keep from wiggling the holes. “Can you do the fire?”

“’Course I can, princess. How big are we talking?” He eased down to sit cross-legged next to Maurice The Dragon, accepting when you offered him yellow and orange sticks of chalk. You leaned back in the afternoon sun with a lap full of matchbox cars listening to the radio Sam had brought out to the porch, the chalk scratching on the concrete, and the rhythmic drilling of holes into siding for a few minutes.

“Dean?” Sam asked, backing down the step ladder.

“Got it,” he answered, putting a little flair on a lick of fire that went around Maurice’s nose and handing your daughter the chalk. “I need to help Uncle Sammy for a minute but I can come right back, sound fair? Your mom is better at scales anyway.” The girl seemed to consider it for a second then pouted her lips out in agreement, tilting her head to the side just like her dad did all the time. Dean got up creakily and brushed off his hands on his back pockets, the orange joining the other stains like an abstract painting.

“You guys need any help?” you called over to Sam, who was trying to stabilize the hoop with long arms and struggling a little bit to keep it balanced in the light wind, powerful muscles rippling in his forearms and impressing upon you how heavy it must truly be if even he was having trouble with it.

“Actually, yeah, that would be great,” he chuckled, jerking his chin to Dean to suggest his brother help him hold it up. He did, grabbing one side and having to reach up to his tip toes to match Sam’s stretch. They were both standing on a kind of bastardized stool Dean had thrown together for this purpose, a few planks of wood balanced on some huge cinderblocks that had been in the garden holding up one of Sam’s compost setups. “It’s just those 12 screws, holes should already be lined up.”

You climbed up on the ladder with the drill, having to crane to reach over even with the added height. When the last was in, the Winchesters carefully removed their hands. Seeing that it didn’t immediately fall, Dean grabbed the bottom corner and tried his best to rattle it to no avail. “Good job, babe,” he said, lightly smacking your ass as you backed down the ladder.

“Watch out,” Sam said over your shoulder, and you saw him walking backwards a handful of steps down the driveway, being cautious to avoid his niece and her drawings.

“Dude, there’s no way you can—” Dean started, cut off by Sam taking a running jump and leaping into the air, catching the rim of the hoop like nothing and doing a baby pull-up on the metal.

“Can what?” Sam cackled, punching Dean’s arm playfully as he dropped to the pavement. “Don’t be jealous, old man.”

“Jealous of Sasquatch? You can practically reach it standing, Lurch.”

“Yeah, okay. Let me know when you can get up there without a stool and a trampoline.”

You were giggling as Sam and Dean started putting all their tools way when DJ’s bike came flying around the corner. Neither he nor his cousin were wearing helmets, and she was wrapped around his chest like a novelty monkey backpack, her legs circling his waist and her arms clinging to his neck. He had to arch around her to see, but you could tell from the half-block length away that he was saying something to her. By the time they got close enough to get reprimanded for the lack of helmets, or for one of their dads to ask where the other bike was, you could hear the crying.

Sam crossed over to his son in long, purposeful strides, holding his handlebars so he could dismount without letting go of your daughter. “What happened?” he asked, taking the girl from DJ’s arms and smoothing her hair back with a soothing palm. As he turned, you could see the blood trickling down her raw knees and elbows.

DJ was visibly rattled, trying hard to calm his breathing down and tensing his bottom lip when it began to quiver. “Davey and I went down that big hill and, she—she was going too fast, and, um, she fell—I, I told her we could practice later but these guys were saying only babies couldn’t do it, I swear I didn’t know she would—” and then his voice broke, fat tears finally breaking through and crashing down his face. Sam nodded to you and Dean, murmuring some comforting things to your eldest as he carried her up the porch steps into his house. At the exact same time as if practiced—that same rapid, implicit communication they’d had on hunts now used to coordinate hugging their children in tandem, you thought to yourself—Dean wrapped his nephew up in a big bear hug, cradling the boy’s head and sweeping his hand up and down his back.

“Hey, come on, you’re okay. She’s okay, she’s just shaken up, kid. Shhh shhh shhh, hey, come on, deep breaths. You’re okay,” he hummed into DJ’s hair. He gave you a tight nod over the kid’s shoulder to keep drawing with your daughter. Only a few steps away, you could still hear him as he continued. “I’m so proud of you, Deej. Got her all the way home on your bike, that’s pretty badass.” He waited for a few moments of silence until his nephew caught his breath a little. “Probably scared you, right?” he asked, his voice low and calm as DJ nodded through tears into the growing wet spot on his uncle’s chest. “That’s okay, chief, I would’ve been freaked too.”

You noticed he was rocking a little, almost like he did when he was trying to get the girls to sleep as babies, and it really emphasized the way that no matter how wise DJ seemed or whatever signs of puberty he might be showing, he was still a child, still the same baby you’d fallen in love with when Sam had gotten that call however many years ago. It took a few more minutes for the crying to subside to hiccupping breaths and seeming to sense that the moment had passed in some way, your baby girl grabbed your hand gently. “Mommy, is DJ okay?”

“Yeah, sweetie. He was just scared for a minute.”

“That’s why he needs a hug?”

“Exactly. Everybody needs hugs sometimes.” Just as she had before when considering your ability to draw cartoon scales on a dragon named Maurice, she tilted her head and pouted in agreement. When you realized what she was about to do next you almost had to wipe a quick tear away yourself, watching her get up to hug DJ and sandwich him between herself and Dean.

“It’s okay, DJ,” she whispered, the high tender pitch of her voice like one of those unsettlingly extreme medieval harmonies with her dad’s but so much sweeter, the bright welcome sting of lemon juice in a dense poundcake.

A moment later, Sam came out onto the porch with his eldest niece. One of her knees was wrapped in gauze but the other and both elbows had what looked from the driveway like a collage of Spiderman band aids. Sam appeared to have a matching one on his forehead, and both of them were giggling, though her eyes still looked a little puffy and red.

Dean looked up and turned DJ to see both of them, cradling the back of DJ’s head in one palm. “See? She’s okay, just needed a couple band aids.”

Sam winked at his brother as he walked over and patted his son on the back, taking the band aid off his forehead as he went. “Buddy, we’re going to go grab the bike and your helmets. Is there anything else you think you left at the park?”

His son shook his head up at his dad and leaned back from Dean’s embrace to rub his eyes. “Are you mad at me?” he croaked.

“Mad at you? Why would I be mad at you?” Sam asked, crouching down to a squat to look up at DJ. You had noticed he tended to do this in sensitive moments with all the children, trying his best to seem less looming. The first time you’d identified it, it made you a little sick to your stomach, realizing it likely wasn’t part of how inherently good he was with kids but because he knew what it was like to have an angry man towering over you. Thinking of it now had the same effect, especially compounded by the emphasis Dean had put on telling DJ he was proud of him even if his daughter had gotten hurt, that he too knew a protective kid was still just a kid.

DJ sniffled hard once more, finally able to take a truly deep breath. “I didn’t wear my helmet home because I couldn’t see arou—”

“Aw, DJ. No way am I mad at you.” Sam hugged his son and stood up, planting a kiss on his forehead. “I’m proud of you for getting both of you guys home safe. That was really smart, to get her on the bike with you like that.” You caught DJ’s tiny smile of pride at his father’s praise, watched it deepen a touch as Sam kissed his hair again. “So just the helmets and the bike?”

He nodded and rubbed his eyes before peeking around Sam a little bit to see your daughter. “You’re really okay?” he asked, as though he didn’t trust the adults to be telling him the truth and would have to ascertain her safety for himself. You wondered if Sam and Dean would find that nice or insulting, that ultra-fierce, trust-but-verify loyalty.

She nodded sort of sheepishly. “Sorry I didn’t listen about the hill, DJ.”

“It’s okay.”

The moment seemed a bit heavy for a half-second before Sam wrapped a big hand around your daughter’s shoulder with a reassuring smile. “Let’s go find that bike.”

After helping Dean get his wheels back inside, DJ went up to his room. You had to resist the urge to follow him, cuddle up with him like you used to when he was small enough to tuck into your lap. If he wanted to be alone, he was old enough to decide that for himself. Dean put the rest of the tools and things from putting up the basketball hoop away and walked over to you where you were laying on the ground so your youngest daughter could trace your body with chalk.

“I think we need a pick-me-up around here. How do you feel about i-c-e-c-r-e-a-m for dinner?”

You smiled, knowing you only had a bit longer of these spelling secrets left as your baby got closer and closer to proficient reading age. “Works for me. I think we have 2 or 3 kinds in the garage freezer.”

He smirked down at you. “Can you bring him over in about 15 minutes? They should be back by then.”

You tossed him a thumbs up and watched him walk across the street, the way the denim draped around his bowed legs as he went.

It was only five or six minutes later when Sam came up to the driveway, jogging alongside your daughter with DJ’s helmet in his hand. Of course Sam would know that she needed to get back on that bike right away, and of course he’d come up with something to make her laugh all the way home, even if that meant he had to run the entire distance on a late summer afternoon. He was slightly out of breath when he helped her dismount in the driveway.

“My kid okay?” he asked, taking the other helmet so your daughter could go back to what was becoming a pretty spectacular chalk surrealist piece spanning the driveway.

“He’s in his room, I think he will be. Your brother’s got a very Dean style plan for dinner in a few minutes if you’re hungry.”

Sam looked down at his watch. “Yikes, I didn’t realize we were even close to dinnertime. Let me go wash my hands and grab DJ then we can go over together?”

“Sounds perfect to me. And hey—Sam? Make sure he knows everyone thinks he did the right thing.”

He nodded, and you watched his Adam’s apple jump in his throat as he swallowed hard. Sam reached down and squeezed your hand, saying thank you without reopening the situation in front of the girls.

They came out a few minutes later, Sam in a fresh t-shirt and DJ looking a little more cheerful coiled into his dad’s side. You bundled up the girls and walked over to your house, tipping your head in thanks as Sam opened the door. The girls were the first to see the spread and took off squealing into the kitchen, where Dean had effectively set up a tiny ice cream shop on your kitchen island. Sprinkles of all different kinds, those 3 tubs of ice cream you’d been right to remember were in the freezer, syrups and whipped cream and cherries and bananas and even chopped up peanut butter cups and Butterfinger bars from the stash Dean hid from the kids. He was already handing out bowls before you got into the kitchen.

“Ah, ah! Hands need to be washed before anyone gets ice cream,” you insisted, shooting Dean a look of teasing reprimand.

He rolled his eyes to your oldest daughter, sending her giggling conspiratorially to the kitchen sink. DJ, presumably having already washed his hands at his place, helped your youngest daughter reach by picking her up to the faucet when her sister was done. You crossed over to Dean, kissing him on the cheek and grabbing his hands for inspection. “Babe, you’re literally covered in chalk.”

“You should be happy about me getting some extra calcium,” he winked, sticking out his tongue at you as you grabbed his ass on the way to the sink. “Mrs. Winchester!” he said in a faux-scandalized voice.

As you washed your hands Sam manned the ice cream scoop, doling out much bigger bowls than he would normally, seeming to know as Dean did that a little levity might help the events of the day pass faster. After all the kids doctored up heaping mounds of ice cream and toppings to beat the band, you and the Winchester brothers stood around the island while they piled onto the couch to find a movie they could all agree on.

“How’s our champ?” Dean asked, keeping his voice low.

Sam shook up a can of whipped cream as he spoke. “He’s okay. Just feels guilty, I think. He says he should’ve stopped her from going down the hill.”

“You think any kid of hers would’ve let someone tell her she couldn’t do anything?” Dean ribbed, accepting the gentle elbow you hit his side with.

“I know that, but you know what it’s like. I think once he sees she’s really okay and no one blames him then he’ll be fine.”

“Poor guy. Feels like that Winchester ‘weight of the world’ thing must be genetic.” You were partly joking but also partly not and they both knew it, looking pitiful and pitying for a beat before trying to cover with smiles. “He’s a great kid, Sam.”

“Pretty much feels like you guys raised him as much as I did, I should be thanking you,” he murmured, drawing a lattice of butterscotch syrup over his whipped cream.

You snaked an arm around his waist and gave him a sideways hug. “No, we’re lucky you let us know him.”

Sam bent over and pressed his lips to your hair. “Seriously, thank you. I’m—I don’t know where we’d be if we didn’t, you know, I mean if we—”

“Don’t strain yourself, Sammy,” Dean smiled affectionately, giving Sam a merciful out. “Tell you what, I sure wouldn’t have made it in damn Themyscira without you two around.”

Sam chuckled down at the counter while you disentangled your arms. You took the chocolate sprinkles from in front of him and scattered a few in your bowl. “Themyscira? The hell is that?”

Dean set down his ice cream exaggeratedly and rolled his eyes so hard he put a backwards bend in his spine, holding onto the island to keep his balance. “Babe. Themyscira. Home of the Amazons? Wonder Woman?”

“Riiiight. I forgot I was married to such a dork.”

“As long as you don’t forget how this ‘dork’ makes you screa—”

“Dude, enough,” Sam groaned, exasperated. Dean waggled his eyebrows at you as his brother followed into the living room with the kids, taking the opportunity of temporary privacy to slip his tongue along your neck where it sloped into your shoulder.

“Dean,” you hissed playfully, pushing his chest away from you. “They’re in the other room!”

“You taste like chalk,” he smirked, before holding your gaze for a gooier beat than you would’ve expected. His eyes softened and he glanced down. “Thank you for letting me—letting us—take that, today. I know you’re better at the Mommy Dearest stuff or whatever, but it sometimes feels like, ah, getting a redo?” He cleared his throat where it had gotten a little thick. “You know, um, like proving that it doesn’t have to be the same?”

It was a specific vulnerability he doesn’t often let you see, but you could tell by the softness both he and Sam had with all the kids, how they beat themselves up for days if they raised their voice for even a second, that they both thought about it all the time. In so many ways they were still those same little boys who wished they could’ve drawn on driveways with their parents, that their dad could’ve given them Spiderman band aids and told them everything was going to be okay.

He didn’t have to explain further, and you gripped his hand to tell him so. “They needed you two, not me. For what it’s worth, I think you guys were a pretty great team today.”

Dean smiled, and it was almost like the sleepy thankfulness he had on those nights when he got home and you’d charitably done a couple of his chores for him. He closed his eyes in invitation and you leaned forward, meeting his lips with the smell of ice cream in the air. “So come on, Super Dad. Let’s go watch a movie with these great kids everyone keeps talking about.”

The ice cream had gotten put back in the freezer immediately to keep it frozen, but the toppings had all been left out during School of Rock. Sam and DJ had left a bit after the movie, playing a round of LIFE that had been pretty ambitiously started, considering the time, and ultimately abandoned when all the kids’ yawns started to sync up. You came downstairs after trading with Dean for bath/shower duty to get out of cleaning up all the sticky dishes, the girls falling asleep too quickly for a bedtime story after you’d made sure they were thoroughly scrubbed clean and any wet gauze was replaced.

He was rinsing some bowls in the sink, the majority of the toppings slid to one side of the now wiped-down island. You sauntered up behind him, putting your chin on his shoulder. “Your jeans are still covered in chalk,” you sighed into his neck.

“Your kid was practically using them as a napkin, so I’m not surprised.”

“Like father, like daughter.”

You felt the rumble of his laugh through your chest where you were pressed up against his back. “Can’t argue with that. They asleep?”

“You’d think I drugged them.”

He chuckled again, putting down the last bowl in the sink and shutting off the water before drying his hands on a dishtowel deliberately. When he turned around, his face was inches from yours. “Is that right?” he asked, and his voice was as smooth and silky as any caramel drizzle you could’ve eaten that night. You nodded into a smile as Dean slid a washing-warmed hand to the nape of your neck and wound into the hair there, pulling you into him where he leaned against the sink and slipped his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like maraschino cherry and chocolate and you pushed up into his kiss hard, jamming him into the counter in a way that made him groan into you, tug that hair tighter. “Careful, baby. Been thinking about scandalizing the mother of my children for hours,” he growled, smirking through a voice rough like the sandpaper calluses of his hands.

You bit his bottom lip and dragged it back, leaning away from Dean just enough to reach over to the island behind you, finding the whipped cream and starting to shake it fast. “That’s funny, because I’ve just been thinking about sundaes,” you purred into his ear, nipping at his earlobe before tipping back. Dean’s eyes practically glittered as his pupils blew wide. His shirt was off so fast you almost didn’t see it, feeling like you blinked and opened your eyes to him already yanking his belt open to shuck off those chalk-covered torn jeans. Before he could, you turned over the whipped cream on top of his collarbone, dripping a stream of white foam down his chest and letting it drift for a second, melt down his skin then lapping it up with a tongue flattened wide. You shook the can again, draping a strip onto Dean’s stomach that trailed to his belly button and laying a palm on his chest, leaning him back to the counter on his elbows to watch as you licked the whipped cream with lazy swirls until you were at the hem of his boxers, sinking to your knees and taking them down his legs along with his now-opened jeans. He was already hard as rock when you took him in your palm, laying one last spray of whipped cream along the length of him and humming in delight at the “holy shi—” that punched out of Dean and fizzled into the ether when you sucked it off.

It was only a few minutes before he couldn’t take it anymore, bending down to kiss you rough and dirty, tongue darting out to get the little dribbles of cream around the corners of your mouth and dragging you to your feet. With one hand Dean flicked open your jeans, using the freed slack to dive into your panties, middle finger dipping into you as he held your jaw with the other palm. He breathed hot and sticky along your jugular. “Not even close to how wet I want you.” The viscous pour of his words onto your neck sent goosebumps spreading over your skin in a delicate fan and you couldn’t help but smile as he scooped under your thighs and lifted you easily onto the island, slipping the denim off your legs as the same time he stepped out of his. You relaxed onto your elbows, watching those long eyelashes drift open and closed as his kissed a path down your abdomen, gripping handfuls of your t-shirt to get to skin. A lazy hand offered Dean the can of whipped cream.

The smirk he gave you, bare shoulders between your thighs as he kneeled on the kitchen floor, might as well have been through a time machine for the way it made you see the cocky playboy you’d first met over a decade ago, before the faint wrinkles of years in sunny cars and staying up nights with colicky babies that accessorized his big doe eyes now. It had the same effect on you in a t-shirt that was older than DJ as it had when you were pounding through shots with eyeliner artfully smudged by the power of hangovers: pooling all the blood in your stomach and making you lightheaded. He slowly bit his bottom lip. “You taste way too good to be adding anything,” he rumbled, and when you threw your head back in a shaky laugh his tongue reminded you exactly why smudged-eyeliner girl was ready to drop her independence, jump in the Impala and follow that mouth to the end of the world.

Dean built the earth up and cracked it into pieces beneath you twice perched on that kitchen island before grabbing the counter edge to haul himself up. “Were these tiles always so fucking hard? Feel like I just took a hammer to the kneecaps.” He shook out each of his bare legs, spring of his erect cock as he did looking silly and out of place with the glisten of his lips and chin, the sultry cast of his eyelashes on angled cheekbones. The juxtaposition made you laugh, breathy as it was with muscles that had been turned to jello, thrown in a blender, and scattered about the room by the deft movements of Dean’s tongue and fingers.

“You’re thinking about your knees right now?”

“That’s how hard these fucking tiles are,” Dean chuckled, deep and still sexy somehow, bending forward to catch your lips. When you reached down to stroke him, a hand wrapped around your wrist. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, I’m nowhere near done with you,” he murmured through kisses, a shade of playful challenge in his throat.

You giggled, leaning back as he dragged a wet path of suction down your neck. “I don’t want to torture those legs, old man.” Running a hand through hair you’d sent spiking in all directions in your writhing, you dragged Dean’s head back on his neck, giving you a chance to meet his eyes, still the same dusted olive they’d been since that first wink. Long past the honeymoon stage when it was appropriate to do that kind of thing, you’d been content to spend hours searching them, cataloguing every spindly muscle of iris for posterity, trying to gather up every grain of him for when he inevitably was lost forever to a hunt or the solitude of the road.

But here he was still.

Here you were still. Living a life—living two selves—you never thought you’d get, lucky to have grown in and around each other like mangrove roots. Those eyes still every inch as beautiful, every spark of that electric heat still there now cloaked in layer after layer of what you’d built together: the complete trust and fanatical admiration he had of you flowing out like fountains of sunlight, strong enough they streamed through any raunchy waggle of his eyebrows.

No time to think about it now with a hungry coil of desire tightening in your stomach. You traced the length of him with your fingertips, feather-light and teasing. “If you give me fifteen seconds to get my sea legs back I’ll show you who’s got tougher knees.”

“All right, that’s it,” Dean said. He tipped his head forward and bit your bottom lip with that impossible pressure that made you whimper. “I’ll show you how old these knees are.”

Before you could react, he’d put his shoulder below your sternum and thrown you over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. When you squealed he smacked your ass. “You’re going to wake up the girls,” he buzzed, starting toward your bedroom without a stitch of clothing on, you draped over his back.

“Dean, Jesus Christ,” you giggled. “Get the clothes at least!”

“Don’t need any jeans for what I’ve got planned—quit—squirming—or I’ll give you something to squirm about,” he continued, lowering his voice to a lascivious whisper and giving one of your upper thighs an impish bite as he headed up the stairs.

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

Note

For the BTHB: enemy turned caretaker with Villain whumpee and Hero caretaker ???

Thank you, your writing is amazing. Have a good day!!!

Thank you for the ask and lovely comment! I hope you don't mind that I gave the characters genders as my brain cannot write with neutral ones today, but feel free to imagine the characters as you like.

If you want to send in an ask: here.

Downside to the River

@badthingshappenbingo

Warnings: beating, intensive description of broken bones (including broken leg, ribs, and jaw), blood, minor vomit, losing consciousness, bathing, enjoying hurting others

Maybe she went a little too far.

Maybe, it was a possibility.

Likely? No.

Unlikely? No.

Did she? Yes.

Now, the real question was... did she care?

In the heat of the moment, that trilogy of words wouldn't dare cross her fired-up mind.

But afterwards? After the deed was done? After she tucked him into bed with a warm blanket?

Yes, she cared. She cared and regretted it.

Let's go back in time for moment, shall we?

July 15, 11:23 PM:

Her fist struck something hard, her ears heard a crack, but her heart felt victory. Her other hand dove in, earning the same satisfying sensation.

"Knock it off, will you?" The villain below her spat, blood circling in the sticky saliva. "I get your point ma'am."

Hero didn't listen. She kicked, landing a near-stunning blow on Villain's chest. He wheezed, coughing and wincing, but he didn't get much time for recovery before another kick sent him hurdling to the ground. He laid there, winded and exhausted, calculating his injuries for greatest to least- he doubted Hero would hurt him further; after all, he was already down.

Yet the otherwise positive premonition failed him. Hero slammed both fists into his temple. Way to kick a man when he's already down, Villain groaned to himself just as stars erupted in his already dimming vision.

He brought himself clumsily to his arms, legs still reclining against the wooden floor. They were on a bridge in the woods, a place that young couples would go for dates on. Though it was more than obvious that wasn't the intention for the late night visit.

Hero pounced, a flying fist meeting his ribcage. Crack! Hero pulled back for moment to allow Villain to collapse on the ground, grunting and moaning weakly, before hopping to her feet and jumping on his side.

"I get your point," Villain growled through clenched teeth.

"I doubt that," Hero retorted, and stomped on Villain's outstretched hand.

"Nngh," Villain replied, pulling in his hand instinctively, but Hero didn't allow for that form of comfort. She placed her shoe onto his wrist and pinned it down.

"Shut up, will you?"

Crrreeeeaaaakkkk

Hero stood up straighter, giving Villain minimal, but relief nonetheless. When the eerie sound didn't come again, she continued her pin of victory.

Creeeeaaakkkk

Hero looked around again, shrugged, but stopped. There was something different in the air.

It was raining.

Not just a drizzle, but a downpour.

Hero looked over the side of the bridge to see raging waters hitting the wooden beams.

Oh crap.

It was a flash flood.

Hero pushed herself away from Villain and bounded to shore. She jumped over pools of mud and water, leaped over fallen branches, and slid over slick slides of leaves.

Before sprinting back home, Hero took a glance over her shoulder at Villain who was struggling to get back on his feet. For a moment, a pure second of temptation, Hero considered going to save him.

No, she told herself, silently shaming herself for those types of thoughts. He is a monster. He brought this upon himself.

Hero looked up again to see the bridge collapse. Villain's arms and legs gave out as a beam smacked into his back, right by the shoulder blades. She didn't have to hear his holler to know the horrible sound that escaped his bloody lips.

As he fell, obviously dazed and disoriented, his skull smashed into a stray piece of wood and he was enveloped by the muddy waves.

July 16, 12:18 AM:

Hero laid upon her bed, aimlessly wrapping a strand of her hair around her index finger, making knots and toying with the invention. Her mind was wandering. Was he dead? Or dying? Was he alone and cold? Or was he not even awake, only his body awaiting inevitable death?

Hero looked out the window and into the dark sky beyond. The consistent tapping on her window told her that it was indeed still raining- pretty heavily at that. But the rain wasn't her concern.

"He is cold," she whispered silently to herself, shaking her head, blonde curls bouncing off her forearms.

She tried to concentrate on her Game of Hair-Knots, but her restless legs walked themselves to the window, her inquisitive eyes looking outside.

Where was he?

She forced herself back to her bed and plopped back onto the comfortable cushioning. She laid her head against the comforter. Should go back out there...

No. She aimed to defeat Villain that night. The task was over, mission finished.

She didn't defeat Villain. The storm did. The intoxicating flash flood that more than definitely was making Villain suffer with dreadful hypothermia.

Save him.

But he is better dead.

It's not right.

I'm saving the world.

You're saving yourself. Go!

Hero rolled onto her back, groaned, and ran down the stairs. She threw on a jacket, grabbed a flashlight and trotted through the booming thunderstorm.

July 16, 12:56:

"Villain!" Hero screamed over the gusts of bellowing winds. She waved her flashlight around wildly. "Villain!"

She was following the river. He had to have turned up somewhere. She shuddered thinking of the waterfall not to faraway from where she was.

It was too crazy of one, but if he fell...

Hero didn't want to think of the "what ifs".

After a few more minutes of looking, she came upon said fall of water. Heart lurching, Hero madly searched around it, desperate to find him before the drop off.

He wasn't anywhere in sight.

Hero ran down the hill that caged the powerful waves up. She tripped over sticks and branches, and even fell a couple times, but kept going.

She had to find him.

And that she did.

His body was laying haphazardly on a rock, completely limp and seemingly unresponsive.

"Villain!" Hero yelled and crouched next to the injured person. Shining the light over his wet face, she could see all the bruises she left, the odd angle his jaw was in, and the smeared trace of blood on his temple where he hit his head earlier.

She let the light wander over the rest of his drenched, and nauseatingly bloody, body. A large wooden beam rested on his leg. His leg, in question, was sticking up on the other side, bent inward with blood staining the pale material of his jeans.

Hero shot straight up to look closer at his leg. If she moved it, she knew it would upset his injuries even further unless, of course, she woke Villain up.

"Hey," Hero tapped Villain's cheek until unfocused eyes open. "Wake up," she whispered.

Villain took a moment to get his bearings, but the moment he did, he screamed. "Hurts, hurts so much," he sobbed. Hero kept her hands rested on his shoulder until he shook them off.

"Get your hands off of me," he growled, glaring at Hero.

She didn't blame him.

But she did ignore him.

"You are trapped under that beam," she informed the villain, pointing to the heavy board that laid upon his lower body. Villain's gaze, still full of hatred, followed her finger.

"I have to lift it. The second I do, drag yourself away. Got it?"

Villain seemed to realize how dire his situation was for he nodded his head. Hero gave an encouraging smile and proceeded to lift the beam.

"Wait," Villain said. "How bad is it?"

"Bad."

Villain noticeably gulped and furrowed his brow.

Hero lined up to the board and wrapped her arms around the slimy material. "Ready? On the count of three. One... two... three..."

Hero lifted while Villain pulled himself to his feet- or foot.

The wood slipped from her hands. Even though her muscles trembled from lifting the beam- thanks to the blessing of adrenaline- she looked at Villain, who was swaying on his foot.

Then she looked down, at his leg.

The bone was popped out of his pants, white and ragged, with cracks running downwards. Hero felt bile rise up her throat, but the nauseating feeling was quickly succumbed when she noticed Villain's eyes roll backwards.

"Crap!" She exclaimed and caught Villain as he collapsed into her arms. His head lolled on her shoulder, body the human equivalent of a ragdoll.

July 16, 2:12 AM:

Hero dragged Villain into the bathroom and quickly got him out of his sodden clothes and wrapped in countless blankets. His lips were an unnatural shade of blue, fingertips waxen in yellow candlewax.

"C'mon bud," Hero murmured, rubbing his wrists to stimulate warm blood flow. She periodically checked hie temperature and smiled as it increased by the decimal.

His hair was matted in dirt and blood- he needed that cleaned immediately before it got into any open wounds. Hero found so many, so many little cuts and deep gashes that she lost count. He would need stitches, antibiotics...

His leg. Surgery was a definite.

But bringing him to a hospital would be suicide for him.

But wasn't I the one who just wanted him dead? The one who left him for dead?

Hero shook her head. That train of thought wouldn't help the situation.

The moment his body temperature was raised enough to safetly bathe him without the risk of even more pain due to the sudden change from cold to hot, Hero filled the tub with warm, vanilla scented water, and lowered him gently into it. She took the showerhead and tenderly rinsed out his hair, picking out hardened bits of mud and dried blood.

He slept through her motherly care, sometimes groaning, but Hero was quick to soothe him.

The next task in cleaning him was shampooing his hair. She scrubbed her coconut scented soap into his hair, then rinsed, dipping his head back to avoid getting it into his eyes.

When the bath was done, Hero wrapped him in a thick bathrobe, tied the front into a bow and carried him to her room where she wrapped a blanket around his sleeping frame.

The last thing Hero did before sitting in a nearby chair was call her friend.

"Caretaker? I kinda have a situation here."

#villain whumpee #injured villain #unconscious whumpee #heros and villains #writing #bad things happen bingo #hero whumper #hero caretaker #storms #broken bones

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catxsnow · 4 years

Text

FIFTH TRY IS THE CHARM

Request: You my lovely are an incredible writer!! If you have the time, can I please request a Bruce Wayne x reader (who knows about his identity) where Bruce tries to propose throughout the day but keeps getting interrupted by Bat-emergencies and eventually the proposal just ends up being somewhere totally random like in the bat-mobile? Thank you x1000 in advance!! Can't wait to read more of your stuff!

Warning: fluff

A/N: I’m tired of being stuck at home

Word count: 2.7k

Bruce Wayne wasn't necessarily the most romantic man.

For the media, he exuded romance, but in real life that often wasn't the case. Bruce was busy man between running Wayne Enterprises and his life as Batman. He had an insane family to take care of and had his own part in the Justice League. Bruce didn't have time to be romantic, even when it came to you.

You had been with him since Tim Drake had come into his life. You helped him raise his kids and even his own blood son. You knew Bruce better than anyone. For years you were his partner in life, his lover. He had dropped the playboy facade and became head over heels in love with you.

Throughout the years, he showed that he could be romantic. On times that Gotham was quite and he could trust Dick to take care of the city, he would take you half way across the world to sit on a beach and drink pina coladas all day. Sunset walks on the beach and surprise breakfast in bed. Bruce knew he could be romantic, and most times he wished he showed it off more often.

You deserved every ounce of cheesy romance in the world, and he hated that he couldn't give it to you.

So, Bruce did everything he could. He took you to the most lavish, expensive restaurants that he could find in Gotham just to see you all dressed up. When Gala's approached, he would buy you the most beautiful outfit that would outshine everyone. He spoiled you with riches without knowing that all you cared for was his company.

Bruce wanted to make things right by you, and the best way that he could do that, was to ask for your hand in marriage. Bruce loved you, he wanted the whole world to know that he loved you.

He had the perfect plan in his head. Take you for some spontaneous vacation on a hot desolate beach and ask you just as the sun turned the sea magnificent colours of purple and pink. You hadn't even made it half way across the country when he was called back for important bat business.

As disappointed as you were, you had never seen Bruce so distraught to be called back to a mission. Without thinking much of it, you let his odd behaviour slide thinking that he just wanted to treat you. In many ways, he had made it up to you that night - but not in the way that he had originally intended.

The second try involved taking you to your favourite restaurant in the city. It stood high off the ground and overlooked the Gotham. It was the few times that you understood why Bruce leaped from buildings to building, the view was amazing. He never understood why you liked that place so much until you told him.

Bruce sat across from you in the dim lit restaurant. One hand in his lap with a ring between his fingers and the other clasped with yours. A smile lit up his face like none you had ever seen before. He seemed happier than usual, and you couldn't figure out why. Nonetheless, you took full advantage of it.

If Bruce was happy, you were happy.

It didn't last long. Just as Bruce was about to speak, to finally ask you to marry him, your gaze overlooked the cloudy night sky. The infamous bat-signal shone bright. You sighed, aware of what this meant for him. Bruce squeezed your hand, wishing that he didn't have to go. This was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Stay safe, I love you," you kissed him before he rushed off. As much as you were used to him leaving you like this, it still hurt every time. It wasn't fair that the city always needed him, they didn't deserve him. Yet, he still came, because that was the type of man that he was. Bruce was Gotham's savior, just as he was yours.

But like every savior, when duty calls, they must attend.

It was hard sitting on the sidelines so many times when Bruce put his life in danger. You hated seeing him come home at night with new cuts and bruises. When particularly bad nights occurred and he came home broken and destroyed. It was impossible seeing the man you loved hurt all the time, and yet you dealt with it every day.

So, just as many of your dates went, you left to go home while Bruce was risking his life once again. You didn't know when he would return, or what shape he would be in when he did. However, as long as he came home, that was all that mattered.

Just as you expected, Alfred was down in the cave, monitoring all of Bruce's moves. You stood behind him, watching the heart monitor like your life depended on it. There was constant fear that one day it would stop. You hoped that day never to come.

After several days of Bruce trying to recuperate from yet another failed attempt to ask you to marry him, he devised a new plan. Although it wasn't as romantic as he wanted it to be, within the comfort of your own home would surely lead him to be able to finally ask you.

Bruce knew that one of your favourite times with him was when he was willing to stay those few extra minutes longer in bed with you in the mornings. You loved when he let loose and was allow himself to enjoy you cuddled into his side. Those few minutes never seemed like much, but he knew that they were so important to you.

He had thought about it the night before. A night filled with an extensive time to make you happy and feeling good. Bruce slept with the ring safely tucked away in his nightstand drawer and a smile on his face. The next day, he was going to ask you to marry him, finally.

You and Bruce laid naked in his sheets. Your leg was cast over his as he leaned up against the headboard. Absentmindedly, you traced the scars along his chest. Bruce could see why you liked these moments the most, it was the time that you truly felt like a normal couple rather than someone who saved the world every other week.

"Damian and I had a really nice time the other day," You told him. "He was telling me how he never baked cookies and so we decided to make them. It was nice, seeing him so mundane like that. I think he finally felt like a normal kid for just a little while."

That was another thing Bruce loved about you. You loved his kids. Damian might not have been your own, but you sure as hell treated him as if he was, just like you had everyone else. Even Dick and Jason, who you had no part in raising were always happy to see you. That was so important to him.

You hadn't noticed Bruce reach over to his bedside table until the phone on it began ringing. Bruce's hand dropped against his bed and a loud sigh escaped his lips. Of course, something had to ruin it again. Reluctantly, he picked up his cell and answered whoever was at the other end of the line.

"It's Dick," Bruce announced as he set his phone down on the table. The hand that wasn't resting on your waist dragged down his face. If Dick didn't sound so urgent over the phone, he wouldn't have even considered leaving you. However, when his son was in trouble, he knew h "I've got to go."

"It's okay, my love," You assured him, honestly. Bruce leaned down to kiss you, he was filled with longing to stay with you. As your hand cupped his face, he knew that if he kissed you any longer, he wouldn't be able to leave. Your touch was intoxicating, and he could never get enough of it. "Even if our moments together are brief, they make up for every second apart."

"You deserve better," Bruce sighed. Getting called away so many times like this just reminded him how little you truly got to be with him. It made him wonder if this was a sign that he shouldn't ask for your utter dedication. Maybe you did deserve better than him, you deserved someone that would be there for you at every turn.

The harsh realization struck him hard, but just as always, you were there to change his mind. You were the one who constantly reminded him of the bright side of thing when he struggled the most.

"I deserve better than a man who's willing to give his life to protect the world? Not many people would be willing to do what you do, Bruce," you sat up straighter in your bed so you were eye level with him. "If anything, It's me who doesn't deserve you. I told you before, I know what I signed up for. Sometimes you have to leave, and sometimes you get to stay."

"I love you," Bruce felt himself melt. It was one of those rare times that he forgot about the Bat, the heavy weight of his company. It was you, and only you that was in his heart and mind. "I promise I'll be back as soon as I can."

"As long as you come back."

Bruce was getting beyond frustrated. He had attempted once more, this time ending in the same result of being called into the line of duty before popping the question. That time had been when you had taken over the kitchen for the night to make dinner for your family that still lived in the Manor.

Bruce had found you, music playing softly in the background. He scared the ever living hell out of you as he silently wrapped his arms around your waist. As soon as you realized it was him, you leaned into his body and the kisses he was leaving on your bare neck. He pulled you into a dance, swaying around the large kitchen space.

As the song ended, Bruce toyed with the ring in his pocket once more, ready to ask again. Just as he was about to pull it out, Alfred had made a presence and informed him that he was needed once more. With a disappointed sigh and a chaste kiss, Bruce was off once more.

He didn't know if he could handle a fifth time of getting interrupted.

It seemed like the next seventy-two hours that followed you had been constantly apart. He barely got the chance to kiss you, much less ask if you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. Bruce hated this wait, if it was acceptable to send it over text, he would have at this point.

He told himself, the next time he saw you for longer than ten minutes, he was going to ask. No matter where you were or what either of you looked like. Bruce was at his turning point, he needed to propose. The ring was burning a hole in his pocket and he couldn't stand it any longer.

You waited in the Batcave patiently for Bruce to get back. Damian was in Metropolis with Jon and you had told Alfred to take the night off. You could handle being the man in the chair for one night - and if anything went wrong he wasn't too far away. Since it was just the two of you, Bruce seemed to be a little more chatty than he normal was.

He would say how beautiful you looked sitting there, watching over him - even though he couldn't see you. His flirty side came out and you couldn't help but reminisce about the time that you had first met him. Bruce had made you swoon with his words, and it seemed that after all these years he still had the same effect.

Thankfully, the night had been quiet and Bruce didn't run into much trouble. That meant two things that you were happy about: he wouldn't come home with any deadly wounds and he would get to come back to you early. Bruce seemed eager to get back to you as well - you assumed it was just to get you in bed.

It didn't take long for the batmobile to pull up to a stop. Bruce leaped out with ease and pulled his cowl down. He felt as if he wasted this moment that he would never get another. Every opportunity had been taken from him and if there was one thing to know about Bruce Wayne, he always got what he wanted.

He approached the chair that you were stationed at, surprised that you hadn't made a move since his appearance. Bruce couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. Your arms were crossed on the computer and your head rested on them. Eyes sealed shut and heavy breaths passing your lips. You had fallen asleep.

Bruce nearly wanted to curse at the irony. As soon as you both had a moment alone, you had fallen asleep - ruining his chance once more. With a sigh, Bruce peeled of his Bat suit and carefully picked you up from the chair. Your head lulled against his chest and your knees tucked over his arms.

You stirred the second he took a step. Bruce paused, waiting to see if you were going to fall back asleep or wake up fully. It seemed to be the latter as your eyes popped open and met with his blues. A smile spread on your lips - you hand't meant to fall asleep but you were pleased by the way you had awoken.

"Hey, baby," Your voice was a little slurred from still waking up. You snuggled into his chest for a brief moment before requesting to be put down. Bruce careful did as he was told, gentle after a night of aggression. "Good night?"

"Better now that I'm with you," Bruce assured. You stretched your arms out and cracked your neck. Although you weren't sitting there for very long, it had made you stiff. Your eyes sealed shut with a big yawn - sleep still wanted to take you.

However, when you opened your eyes, you were no longer looking at Bruce's chest. He was knelt down on the ground, but that wasn't what caught your attention - it was the big, beautiful ring that was between his two fingers.

"Bruce!" You gasped. This didn't seem like the time, or place for him to be asking you to marry him. However, you didn't know about his struggles to get there, or that he felt as if he was running out of time. This moment, although not perfect, was exactly what he needed.

"(Y/N) (L/N), will you marry me?" Bruce asked. A massive grin spread across your face. You could feel your eyes burning with tears at the sheer joy that coursed through you. Marrying Bruce was always something you wanted, and now, you were going to get it. You were going to be his, now and forever.

"Yes!" You excitedly agreed. Bruce slipped the diamond on your ring finger. Without hesitating, he brought you into a kiss. His hands slipped down your sides until they grasped the bottom of your thighs. Bruce hoisted you up so your legs were tightly wrapped around his waist without even breaking the kiss.

Your fingers glided through his hair, tugging at the roots as he squeezed your butt. The distance from the cave to his bed seemed far too large. Bruce needed you, he needed to kiss every inch of your skin and devour you. This love that he had, it amplified the second that you said yes to marrying him.

Bruce might not have been the most romantic, but he sure as hell was going to try his hardest for the rest of his life with you.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne one shot #batfam #batfam imagine #batman #batman imagine #batman oneshot #dc imagine #dc one shot #dc #fluff

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dovakhiindrabbles · 3 years

Note

For the prompt 43 with Brynjolf please?

Of course! I’d be more than happy to write the prompt for you! I only hope you have an amazing day and enjoy! <3

43. “Come with me.”

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Nocturnal was a god among mortals -- a daedric prince who oversaw the murky shadows and all who hid among them. Whispers heard throughout the world told of how she could even be found lingering in those shadows, an inky blackness clinging to her as if the very sun itself couldn’t reveal her.

She was above the follies of mortals and yet couldn’t help herself from meddling. Especially those of her most loyal followers -- the Nightingales.

She’d noticed from her times looming within the darkness how you and Brynjolf interacted. How hands briefly brushed and fingers just barely interlocked. How passing glances held just a second too long to be unimportant. How no matter where you went, you went together.

Your feelings for one another were so painfully obvious an infant could see it -- so apparently the two of you had even less awareness.

It was an opportunity Nocturnal couldn’t pass up.

Between the two of you, she first sought out Brynjolf. The man fancied himself as clever, often to such a degree that a snippy remark had slipped out in some of their conversations.

It was during the night when she caught him, just outside the Blue Palace where he’d managed to escape from. Guards spilled out and yells could be heard from each and every corner -- even those caught in shadow. Brynjolf had slipped between two manors where the moonlight missed just so. An ornate, extravagant jewelry box clamped between his grip with more gemstones and gold decorating it than most would see in their entire life.

From there, Nocturnal revealed herself in the darkest crevice space could offer. The darkness extended her outwards and still clung to her despite her physical form. She was a void, and the shape she created only split itself apart in the pure absence of light -- not even the brightest lantern would be able to paint her figure.

“My Nightingale.”

Brynjolf nearly jumped into the open road in shock, smacking his back up against the wall in frustration upon realizing. “Fucking fuck are you-”

He looked up at Nocturnal’s imposing figure and thought better of himself. He spoke softly, his gaze alternating between her and the streets cluttering further and further of curious onlookers and furious guards. “My lady, what can I do for you?”

She made a motion with her hand that brought strings of the void trailing after her fingertips. “On the contrary, I am here to offer you my assistance.”

Brynjolf gave a cheeky grin. “Could you get me out of this mess?”

“You are one of my most trusted followers with an agent of my own creation. There should be no situation beyond your skills.”

“I know.” Brynjolf groaned. “Worth a shot. Meet me outside the gates, my lady?”

She vanished without a word and Brynjolf proceeded to lift himself up onto the rim of one of the manor’s roof. He hoisted himself up and pressed his body close to the tiles, only lifting himself up to leap from home to home. In that time he truly was a shadow, beyond any light and any eyes that would make the foolish attempt to seek him out.

Minutes later he was beyond Solitude’s walls and any outrage that still remained was drowned out by the falling and crashing of the waves below. Still hidden away safely in his coat was the jewelry box -- not so much as a scuff on it. Brynjolf impressed himself every time.

As he began walking along the carved out path, Nocturnal reemerged. Her form freer beyond Solitude’s constant desire for warmth. She carried herself freely, and she took on a shape almost human, but not quite. There was always an unknowable aspect to Nocturnal that could never be described. Many daedra carried themselves in such a way, so that they could nearly blend in, but never be forgotten by anything lesser than a fool.

“That was commendable.” Nocturnal hummed. Both a lightness and a deepness coexisted in her voice.

Brynjolf interlocked his fingers and stretched them out; a popping could be heard. He sighed dramatically. “All in a day’s work.”

“I hope you are able to hide that treasure as well as you hide your feelings.”

Brynjolf knew Daedric princes were meant to be incapable of understanding; downright incomprehensible sometimes. But this? It bewildered him.

“I’m sorry?”

“You and the other Nightingale?”

Brynjolf cracked a grin. “Karliah?” He tested Nocturnal’s kindness.

“The other one.” She swatted a bit of darkness at him and like a tight band flung outward, it stung him.

“Ah, that one.” Brynjolf rubbed at his little red mark where Nocturnal smacked him like a petulant child. “What of them?”

Nocturnal stepped in front of him, a swirling blackness keeping her from ever truly touching the ground. “You both have feelings for one another?”

Brynjolf did what he knew best, and dodged the question. “What like hate? Friendliness? Perhaps a bit of irritation?”

“Do not attempt to evade me, Nightingale.” Nocturnal raised her voice and the night became that much more invasive. She settled herself quickly. “You are my servant, there is nothing I do not know. The darkest, most secretive parts of yourself are the ones I know best. Fortunately for you, I only wish to help.”

Brynjolf wrinkled his nose and cracked beneath the pressure. It was a touchy subject, apparently. “Oh yeah? And how’s that?”

“I need only open your eyes,” Nocturnal answered. “I think you’ll find it’s clear the feelings are mutual.”

“I don’t want to be disrespectful my lady but-”

Nocturnal cut him off. “Then don’t be.”

Brynjolf scoffed. “But I don’t see how that’s possible.”

She tipped her head to the side curiously. “How is that?”

“Because there are a million other better people knocking on their door!” Brynjolf exclaimed it like it were obvious. “I mean why would someone like that choose someone like me?”

“Someone like you? Their equal?”

Brynjolf scowled and huffed. “Like a thief could ever be on par with the Dragonborn.”

Nocturnal simpered. “The Dragonborn themself also is a thief. Last I recall you two work closely together.”

“Even still-”

“The only one creating rifts in this relationship is you, my Nightingale. What are you afraid of?”

He hesitated and in an instant Nocturnal knew.

“Rejection.”

Brynjolf’s hands tightened into tight, uneasy fists at the revelation. Nocturnal raised those hands and unfurled them, tracing lines of shadow along his palm. In the most peculiar way, it was soothing, and Brynjolf supposed it was her own... unique way of comforting him.

“If I believed there was a chance the Dragonborn wouldn’t share those feelings I would not be here, speaking to you. I only want what is best for my followers.”

“Besides,” Nocturnal mused. “if it goes poorly, you can simply submerge yourself within the shadows for eternity.”

Brynjolf chuckled. “I might take you up on that offer.”

“You won’t.” Nocturnal looked up at him with an emptiness one could consider her eyes. Her ‘windows to the soul’ only unveiled further darkness, but only in the way one shrouds themself beneath the shade of a blanket to escape what frightens them -- it was a relief, protection. “Because you won’t have to.”

A moment later, Nocturnal disappeared within the void beneath her. She sank into the night that had soaked into the very deepest layers of the earth, leaving Brynjolf to himself and her words.

By the time he’d made it to the Nightingale Hall, he’d made up his mind.

You were sitting in the living quarters with Karliah, seated across one another and leaned both in the old, weary chairs. You’d been laughing, and Brynjolf could tell by the edges of your lips lifted up. The moment you saw him, you lit up.

“Bryn! There you are! Karliah was starting to think you got lost along the way!”

He snorted. “I could’ve. What a bitch of a walk.”

Karliah furrowed her brow, amused. “You could’ve stolen a horse like a sane person.”

“Maybe I like the quiet. You can hardly get any of it here.”

She rolled her eyes at the very idea. “You wouldn’t know what to do without us.”

Brynjolf laughed. “Absolutely lass.”

He turned to you and his heart began to thump heavy and hard against his chest. Of all the things to bring him nerves in life, it was you bringing knots and tangles in his stomach. He took a deep breath and grasped your shoulder, gesturing. “Come with me.”

Your eyes widened like saucers, but you stood up. To say the least, your curiosity was piqued. “Alright... what is it?”

“I just wanted to talk to you, in private.”

You ducked your head away to hide the red that burst onto your face. You folded your lips to hide a growing smile, but you were still clearly nervous, shuffling your feet and fidgeting with your hands. “Okay.”

He led you outside where the evening had overtaken the sky overhead in a mix of blues, pinks, and the slightest tinge of purple. It was a beautiful sight, and one of the rare gifts that came with living in Skyrim.

Brynjolf leaned against the stone cavern of the hall and ran his fingers through his hair. This felt so much easier in his head. “I ah -- I don’t know how to say this without sounding like an idiot.”

“Bryn-”

“No! I just -- I want to say this, but be patient with me, please. I’m not good with... emotions.” Brynjolf laughed. “You don’t get to be a man like me by being open.”

You nodded and stayed, you were far too patient than he deserved.

“I-” Brynjolf swallowed hard and took a few steps forward. A part of him wanted to reach for your hand but that’d be too much, too soon. If he -- if Nocturnal was wrong he didn’t want to dig his grave any further than necessary.

“I love you.”

There was a period of silence where Brynjolf considered Nocturnal’s offer to hide in the shadows forever. It was a horrible few seconds where Brynjolf’s vision was stagnant and the entire world was frozen in time.

He only came back to reality when you took his hand. You enveloped it in your own and squeezed his palm fondly. You were warm, and your grip was steadfast.

“I love you too.”

Brynjolf rarely smiled from ear to ear, but he did then. He took you in his arms and spun you like one only saw in fairy tales. It was something he only just now realized he’d wanted to do for the longest time. There were so many things he wanted to do -- with you -- and now, he could.

He would have to thank Nocturnal the next time they crossed paths.

#Brynjolf #Skyrim #tes #Skyrim tes #brynjolf skyrim #Brynjolf x Reader #Brynjolf x You #You x Brynjolf #Skyrim Fanfic #Skyrim Fanfiction #x Reader #brynjolf fanfiction #Brynjolf Fanfic #Forgot how much I LOVE nocturnal #also thieves guild might be my favorite questline

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eldritchqueerture · 3 years

Text

Point of View - Original Statement Fic

Point of View (5004 words) by LadyNikita Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Original Statement Giver(s) (The Magnus Archives) Additional Tags: Statement Fic (The Magnus Archives), Original Statement (The Magnus Archives), this was intended as the eye but evolved into the vast as well, happens, cosmic horror, attempt at Eldritch Madness, unreality, Discussions of pointlessness and meaninglessness, Canon-Typical The Vast Content (The Magnus Archives), from the eps about space, Mentions of Death, Compulsion, discussions of free will (kind of), Dissociation, Panic, Mentions of addiction, Leitner Book (The Magnus Archives), except it was not possessed by Leitner, Pretty Colours <3, Neurodivergent Protagonist, Queer Protagonist, because I can project a bit as a treat, Can Be Read Without Prior Knowledge of the Podcast (I think)

Summary: "Humans crave understanding. They strive towards knowing more and more, that’s what all science is about, isn’t it? To study, to learn and understand; to seek answers to questions. But are we really equipped to handle the answers we seek? Even if we were able to reach them, are our minds advanced enough to grasp the truths about the world we live in? What if there are things just beyond our understanding, lurking in the shadows of reality, peeking into our world just enough to feed on us, on our uncertainty and our pathetic scrambling towards answers that would only bring madness?" --- Statement of Lyria Ellison regarding a different point of view and the dangers of knowledge.

Notes: Hiiiiii <3 I've been reading Lovecraft recently and as much as I hate the dude, The Colour Out of Space gave me so much inspiration that I immediately sat down and produced this in one sitting. I've been meaning to play with the concept of eldritch madness for a while; something about this trope is really appealing to me and I'm really enjoying my attempts at shaping it with words. Lyria is a preexisting OC of mine, I will give some background on her in the end notes because I love her very much. This is a form of practice for me; I'm playing with horror themes and I'd like to get acquainted with them to better incorporate them into my overall writing. Therefore I will accept constructive criticism if anyone wants to give it, but only in the form of DMs, either on Tumblr (your-queer-vampire-dm) or on Discord, if we know each other through a server. All of the warnings I think should be mentioned are in the tags, but if you think something should be added then please tell me!

Date: May 10th , 2018

Name: Lyria Ellison

Subject of experience: A different point of view and the dangers of knowledge.

—

How do you start telling a story that changed your heart, your mind, and your soul so profoundly that you can barely still function in a society? How do you say all that without sounding borderline insane? Nobody knows what I’ve seen, what I’ve been through. I know they would all say I’ve hallucinated it all and should seek treatment. But I know it won’t help. I know… I know so much now. Too much and not enough. Never enough. I know what happened was real . I don’t have proof so I’m guessing you won’t believe me either, but I need to tell someone about it. So I might as well tell you.

My name is Lyria Ellison and I’m a neuropsychology major. Ex-major, I should say. I dropped out after… Yeah. I dropped out; there’s not much point in continuing studying things about the feeble, insignificant human brain. Utterly pointless venture.

Humans crave understanding. They strive towards knowing more and more, that’s what all science is about, isn’t it? To study, to learn and understand; to seek answers to questions. But are we really equipped to handle the answers we seek? Even if we were able to reach them, are our minds advanced enough to grasp the truths about the world we live in? What if there are things just beyond our understanding, lurking in the shadows of reality, peeking into our world just enough to feed on us, on our uncertainty and our pathetic scrambling towards answers that would only bring madness?

Just a year ago, I was convinced I was going to finish my degree. I was so passionate about it too, eager to learn more and more, to research and seek knowledge. Curious and fascinated by the world around us. What a foolish thing it was to give into that drive. My mind was open to the supernatural, although I always approached it scientifically; I never said the supernatural existed, but I also never said it didn’t. It was plausible; all in all, every scientist must accept that there is still a vast amount of knowledge we don’t have about the world.

The ignorance was a blessing. But I shall not get ahead of myself.

It started around December last year; my dad had died, and my girlfriend, Shawala, and I were clearing out his house. There wasn’t really anyone else to do it; my mother had passed a couple years prior, I had no siblings, and extended family was out of the picture as well; and my dad had gathered a lot of things in his adventurous life; he was a traveller, and he loved the world, loved learning about it, just like me. I was feeling pretty overwhelmed with it all; my dad meant a lot to me back then, and Shawala proved an excellent support at that first shock. She promised to do some first view assessments of the ground floor, while I went to scope out how things looked in the attic.

It’s always either basements or attics, isn’t it? I used to read horror, Lovecraftian was my favourite – how ironic, isn’t it? How stupid . How utterly ignorant. The hubris of the human race at its finest.

Anyways, the attic was half-lit from the small windows in the roof, and dust was swirling in the faint light of the afternoon sun. It was cold here, but I didn’t pay much mind; the house was old, and it wasn’t surprising that there was draft. To say the space was cluttered would be an understatement; I could barely walk around the numerous boxes, old furniture, crates, and overflowing bookshelves; all of which made something in my chest curl tight, bringing tears to my eyes. I steered my steps towards the nearest bookshelf; I’ve always been a bookworm, fascinated by nearly any tome I came across; I’ve been reading popular science books since I was eight. So naturally, I was drawn to the books, taking huge steps above the cardboard boxes and careful not to hit anything else.

The books were old, of course, and dusty. Some of them had loose pages, and I treated them very gently, almost reverently. I have a little bit of a bookbinder streak, and I decided I would take them home and try to put them back together. As I rifled through them, I saw they pertained to a vast variety of subjects, from poetry, drama, and history, to science, metaphysics, and maths. The deeper I looked into this stunning collection, the more reverence rose in my heart; at my fingertips I had the oldest and the biggest accumulation of knowledge I had ever seen. I saw some books dated back even two hundred years ago.

At that point Shawala called me to check if I was alright. I put the book I had in my hands back and my knuckles brushed against the black leather cover of the next one on the shelf. I felt pleasant tingling in my palm at the touch and my heart leaped at the prospect; I didn’t know why – the book seemed ordinary enough on the shelf and there was no title on its spine.

I sometimes wonder if I could have just left it there and gone downstairs; chosen to come back later and then maybe, it wouldn’t have enticed me as it did. If, by that point, I had had any choice left on the matter.

Alas, intrigued by the book, I placed my palm on the spine and took it out. The leather was soft and smooth, probably sheep, with familiar subtle grains all over the texture. I remember it striked me as odd that it was warmer than the rest of the books in the drafty attic, but I shrugged it off. The front cover had a title, small but visible in the centre, etched in gold – Punctum Visus .

I, by all means, cannot read or speak Latin, but I figured it was something to do with vision. I opened the book, an unknown anticipation buzzing in my stomach. The pages were worn and old, their texture was slightly rough but pleasant under my fingertips; as I opened the front page, I saw the title again, this time in thick but still elegant, black letters, and the smell came up to my nostrils.

I tried to describe it in my head countless times after. I always loved the smell of old books, and I knew it very well, so it came to me as a surprise to realize it wasn’t the only smell I could feel from the book. It was… cold, somehow, distant but prickling at my nose, a little bit the way peppermint tastes. It reminded me of the night sky and distant stars somehow. The smell awakened an unease within me, as I couldn’t quite place what it was and why it seemed so weird , but it wasn’t by any means unpleasant. It was… enticing. Like a promise of a mystery.

I breathed it in again through my nose, closing my eyes, and for a moment I lost all feeling in my body. I was untethered and immaterial, somewhere in deep darkness that seemed to envelop me whole. It felt cold on my mind, stretching it thoughtlessly in the empty vastness, and I saw distant flickering lights of stars. Before I could form a coherent thought, I was back in myself, panting and shaking, staring at the front page of the Punctum Visus . I looked around with shaky breaths; the attic looked the same, and Shawala’s steps on the stairs reached my ears, with her voice calling my name. A shiver passed down my spine, causing goosebumps to bloom on my skin; was it the draft, the dread, or the excitement I couldn’t tell.

I knew I had to read this book, no matter what it took for me to do so.

I took it home, almost forgetting about the rest of the books upstairs. It had spent the next month laying in my room, as I dealt with the formalities and moving the rest of things that weren’t sold from the house either to my place or to charity. After the day we left the house for the last time, I collapsed in my bed, exhausted, but instead of closing, my eyes fell on the book unassumingly waiting on my nightstand.

A surge of excitement passed through me, waking me right up. I sat up and reached for the book. It was still warm; I couldn’t tell if it was good or bad, but warm it was. I think it made me subconsciously assign it more… being? Like, even before I knew anything, I somehow subconsciously accepted that it was more than just an object; that it was, in a sense, alive on its own. I brushed my fingers on the cover, feeling the texture of the leather and the etching of the letters. In the meantime during this month I had checked the meaning of the title – Point of Sight; a position from which a thing is or is supposed to be viewed. It makes so much sense now.

But then I didn’t know what dangers it held; or I didn’t want to think about them. I do remember feeling anxious, my hands trembling every time I opened the cover, but it was so mingled with exhilaration of the certainty I was discovering something important that I must have disregarded it. As I turned the pages, I wasn’t surprised to find the text in Latin; though I still felt a pang of frustration that it meant I couldn’t read it for now. I rifled through the pages, looking curiously at the letters that formed words yet unattainable to me. There was a hunger inside of me; a hunger to Know. As I turned the pages past various symbols, illustrations of the constellations, and of Earth, I determined it must be some sort of a metaphysical work. The point of view on the world around us.

Normally I just skim through works like this and leave them. While they are an interesting read sometimes, they’re not my favourite genre and, looking objectively, putting in the effort of learning a whole language just for the sake of reading a treatise on the meaning of cosmos by an unknown author seems strange at best. But somehow it seemed obvious to me that I had to read it. It called to me, sang into a part of my being that begged to be filled, promising knowledge that would finally leave me satisfied. I know now that it’s impossible. Once you’ve tasted the hunger for knowing, you will never find satisfaction; it’s like an addiction. You just crave more and more, and the knowledge never ends. After a certain point you know too much and when it all connects, when it starts to make sense… you slip. I didn’t know that, even though maybe I should have. I didn’t know what those things I was feeling meant then and I didn’t stop to question them; I gave into it as soon as it touched me. I was stupid.

What followed were a busy couple of months. Every waking moment that wasn’t spent keeping up the pretence of being interested in my major (back then I only thought it a brief hyperfixation, of course, and wouldn’t have called it a pretence at all), I was learning Latin online or staring into the incomprehensible words on the pages. This period of my life is a blur; I remember my friends checking up on me if I was alright, since I wasn’t particularly social anymore. Shawala got progressively more worried, but it fully escaped my mind to care. I know that staring thoughtlessly at the book took up more and more of my time; once, I remember, I returned from my classes at three PM and took the book out; when I came back to myself it was well past midnight. That’s when I started to feel truly uneasy about it. It was the second half of April; I looked back on what I’ve been doing these past months and this cold dread started creeping up to my throat. I realized I didn’t know why I wanted to read the book so much and I remembered the “vision” or the hallucination I had that first time in my dad’s attic. I had set it aside completely as unimportant, and I couldn’t wrap my head around why. I started shaking and theorizing in my head about the book being able to influence my mind somehow, to control it. Had my actions not been my own? How much of it was my own will and how much was the book? Was it even possible for it to influence me like that; could it be that it was supernatural in some way?

The house became cold, unnaturally so. It was dark and all the windows were closed, but a chill draft managed to find its way into the corridor I was in anyway. I sank to the floor and hugged my knees, trembling in panic. I was all alone in the flat, everyone I knew was surely already asleep in their homes, and I was small and weak in the face of something that maybe could have controlled my mind. I suddenly became aware of the leatherbound book in my hand, and I threw it along the corridor at the front door with a whimper, as far away from me as possible. The book thumped against the door, then the floor, and opened on a random page.

I’ve read enough horrors. I knew that the page would be significant, and that knowledge made me sob and hug my knees tighter. I didn’t know what was happening; I felt like I’d just woken up from a months-long dream… and perhaps I was right. The recent past felt alien.

I felt tears sting my eyes and that’s when the smell reached me. Again that mixture of old paper and peppermint cold, distantly sweet but freezing the blood in my veins. My breath came in ragged and shallow, and tears streamed down my face as I stared at the open book that was calling me in an inaudible whisper. The logical side of my mind was trying desperately to make sense of it, to assign the dissociative feeling to my father’s death and yeah, it was plausible, but somehow it just didn’t feel right. The whispers sounded again, swirling around my head, the golden sound almost touching the back of my neck, making me wince. It was enticing and promising, but this time, I felt terror instead of excitement. Disregarding how my mind was trying to rationalize the situation, I knew the book was cursed somehow. I knew that I was its victim. And I knew that I would not be strong enough to resist it.

I don’t know how much time I sat there, trembling, and sobbing into my knees, before I calmed down from the panic and decided I had to do something. I had to find out what this book was and how it found itself into my dad’s library. I couldn’t remember seeing anything in his diaries that would mention it at all, but then again, I didn’t read them all cover to cover. On wobbly legs I carefully made my way back to my room and searched the Internet until the sun started peeking out of the window; I found nothing about any book titled Punctum Visus . I tried all the libraries that I’d known of, that had their assortment online, all the research databases; nothing.

So, at the crack of dawn, with a fast-beating heart, I stood in the door of my room, staring out into the corridor, where the book still lay by the front door, unmoving. The golden strings of a wordless melody made it to my ears; it promised an explanation; that this time if I looked close enough, I would find what I was looking for.

What was I looking for?

Where else could I find the answers if not in the book itself?

I could feel its cold fingers slowly wrap around my mind, steering me to come closer. It called me with a hypnotising voice that awakened all the red signals in my brain, telling me to run and hide, but I didn’t. The voice meant danger, but I knew it also meant knowledge.

Dangerous knowledge. The pull dragged me through the corridor step by step; I hadn’t been fighting it as strongly as I could have had and I was about to start, since I was getting closer to the book, but suddenly I felt the chill of the influence let go, hovering close but out of reach. It was still compelling me to come, to Look, but I could move my own limbs. I had a choice to make.

Knowledge of danger. Did I believe my own warning thoughts that I would regret looking into the book? Did I take my own logical, rational side seriously? Was I ever good at resisting my own impulses?

I’ve never been addicted to anything, but then again, I never really had the opportunity, as it were; my friends were more of a no-alcohol types and I really ever smoked cigarettes once. I’ve never seen drugs in real life. So who’s to say if I’m not an addictive personality? And this, this was addictive. The thrill of mystery, the exhilarating process of learning, the anticipation of the answers.

Was it ever really my choice?

No supernatural force guided my steps that night; no cold fingers made me kneel next to the book and carefully cradle it in my arms, looking at the page with a shaky breath and tears in my eyes, as if I was coming back home like the prodigal son. But I’m sure it was by some paranormal means that this time I could understand the text on the pages.

I honestly don’t remember what it said. As I read the unfamiliar words, the meaning presented itself in my mind, not entirely unlike that first “vision” I had in the attic; as soon as I started reading I knew that I had made the choice and there was no turning back. That cold draft enveloped me, sat on my skin, and started to bite; I felt that smell again, stronger than ever before, something intangible but unmistakably inhuman . It was then that I realized that’s what had felt wrong to me about the smell since the beginning. It was inferior and alien. My hands started shaking as my eyes, glued to the text, moved now on their own down the page, drinking the words in. I was terrified out of my mind, but the pleasant tingling along my nerves was back, the anticipation of the promised understanding.

My mind was drowned with the tide of knowledge. This was just a prologue; a true discovery would require preparation, but I was almost ready. The voice said I was chosen, that I was a perfect candidate to bring It what It needs and that I would be rewarded. I cried tears of amazement and horror at the sheer scope of the voice – it seemed to encompass the entire world. I couldn’t comprehend it, but I didn’t know then that it was a blessing. I wanted to know, I craved to know what It was and how I could be of use to something so powerful, so huge. Divine. That was a word that crossed my mind, as much as I don’t like that. I don’t like many things, but I can’t change any of them.

The voice said I’m on the right path. I would Know and Understand. First, I needed to do something. As It told me what that was, doubt started to creep up to my mind. What was I doing? What was happening? How could this be real?

I came to on the floor by my front door, the cursed book in hand, with a tear-stained face and a bloody nose.

I knew what I had to do to get ready and, as I calmed down and went over everything in my head, I was surprised by how trivial it was. Honestly, by this point I was kind of afraid It would tell me to hurt someone, so I was glad this was just about reading a bunch of words in a specific location at a specific time. I was aware of the fact that this was most probably a ritual, and I was quite apprehensive. I kept arguing with myself in my head, over and over whether I should follow through, but deep down I knew that I would, no matter what I told myself. This part, I think, scared me the most; how compelling the promise of knowledge was, how reverently I’d found myself thinking of the book and its owner (which I assumed was the voice), how fanatical some of my thoughts sounded. I’ve never been religious, never really felt idealistic either. I was always focused on facts, on the here and now. Can knowledge be an ideal? Can you be a fanatic of Seeing and Knowing?

How much had I changed since I’d found Punctum Visus in that old attic.

I found a good, quiet spot, on the north-west side of the New Forest National Park near Southampton. I told no one about this, deeming it unimportant. I would come back after my big discovery, I would explain everything. I laugh at myself now; at my naivety.

The night of April 28 th was clear, and the starry sky looked back at me as I parked my car on the road in the forest and locked it. I tied a piece of a long red string to the wheel, not to lose my way in the forest, and started to walk forward. I held the book close to my chest, as if it could protect me from the dark, eerie outlines of the trees, swaying gently on the wind and whatever the darkness around me held. I didn’t light the torch; the moon was nearly full, bathing everything in its gentle light, and besides, for some reason it seemed that the crude yellow light would somehow break the sanctity of what I was about to do. I could see the ground in front of me and managed to lose sight of my car and everything else besides trees pretty fast.

I stopped when I found a small clearing. The moon was high in the sky, shining down on me like a big eye; I didn’t know why this comparison seemed the most fitting, but it did. I took a deep breath, feeling a chill plant little dots all over my skin, making my hairs stand on end. The wind died down and the trees froze, as if in anticipation. I felt something watching me closely; I was not alone here anymore.

The realization made my breath catch in my throat and the last streaks of sanity broke through my thick skull. Run! Drop the book and run! I didn’t. My hands trembled, my muscles tensed, and I stood there, frozen with fear as something stared at me, seemingly for eternity. Something bigger than me, bigger than anything I have ever seen was watching me, waiting. My eyes dropped to the book in my arms. The black leather was warm, as always, but this time I felt a pulsating sensation from it. A heartbeat.

I screamed. The book landed discarded on the ground, and I stumbled backwards and tripped, landing in the grass as well. It was cold and wet, and it glistened with something in the faint moonlight. At first I took it for water, but upon closer inspection I saw it was the grass itself that glittered – a shy rainbow, glowing iridescently in an impossible way. I froze, stunned, for I have never seen such colours before. It seemed utterly alien, something unfitting for the human eye to see; simultaneously beautiful and horrifying.

As I looked around, I noticed that everything alive in the forest – the trees, the grass, the bushes, the plants – had taken on that iridescent mixture of faint light that prickled my eyes and sent a shiver of terror down my spine. It was beautiful, utterly gorgeous in a way that nothing a human eye can perceive could be. It was horrifying in how different, alien, and other it was. My senses could tell this is not of the Earth; not of this reality, not of this world; everything in me that still had common sense tried to recoil from the inferiority of this magnificence and the danger it brought, but I had abandoned common sense a while back. Maybe even when I touched the book for the first time. I stared then, breathless and trembling, at this scenery as if from a fairy tale and decided to lock away my rational thoughts. I wanted to See, to Know; I wanted to experience and if this was the death of me then hell, it was a pretty good way to go. To behold such a sight, I thought, was a reward in and of itself.

Of course, I had no idea what any of it meant. I slowly rose to my knees and patted the ground down until I felt the book. It still pulsated with this heartbeat and the letters etched in the leather glowed with golden light. My hands were sweaty, and I didn’t know whether I was shivering from fear or the cold. I opened the book on the first page.

What I saw was not what I had expected. I remembered that the first page, after the titular one, was the beginning of the introduction, that much I had understood, but now it was a big picture in black and white; a night sky, with an almost full moon and strewn with stars. It was a shot from the ground and treetops could be seen at the edges of the picture. As the book swayed in my hands, the stars glittered, and the perspective shifted ever so slightly, as if it was in 3D. Stricken by a surge of dread and cold certainty, I looked up. My suspicion was right – the picture in the book depicted the exact image that was now above me. I gasped quietly and looked down at the book—

And this is where things started to really go horribly, horribly wrong.

The book was gone. What’s more, the ground was gone too and suddenly everything was not where it should have been. I blinked but it did nothing to ease the dizziness; and when I composed myself enough to register what I was seeing I froze, the most intense horror I have ever experienced crushing my body from all sides and inside out.

I realized that I was Seeing. I was finally Seeing, and I Understood it all.

I don’t know how to convey in words what I saw. I don’t believe it’s possible; humans were never made to see and understand such things. I should have never touched the book, I should have never asked for knowledge. All my life I believed that knowledge was the point; it was a tool, and it was power. I don’t know what I think anymore. I think some knowledge should always be hidden because we were not made to know everything. We can’t , it’s physically impossible for us to comprehend.

For one moment in my life. For one moment I became something else, and I saw the world in the way It sees the world. For one moment I shared a mind with an eldritch being, a thing that is Fear itself, and I saw the Earth through Its Eye. I can’t… I can’t tell you just how horrible it is. How… How meaningless; we’re all intertwined things, guided by strings of web that lead us through life, and we’re all connected in this maze of fear . We’re not individuals; we’re not special. We don’t have souls and none of our experiences matter. We’re just fear. These… These entities are a part of all of us. They’re our fear and they live inside of us, inside of every living creature that can feel fear. Can you comprehend that? How can you be sure you are yourself when there’s a cosmic entity, a power as old as life itself, living you ? And no one has any idea. Nobody knows and if I tell someone they’ll think I’m crazy. Sometimes I think I’m crazy. But deep down I know what I saw. I know it was real. And I’m terrified. I’m terrified because I know that this Being of eyes that I became a part of watches everything I do. I feel Its presence here very strongly, and I guess it makes sense. It will never leave me. It’s a part of me, just like the rest of them; just like they’re all a part of every one of you, yet you have no idea. But I know. And I know I’m all alone with that knowledge, the knowledge that I can’t comprehend, but I know I could in that one moment. It’s a very lonely place to be and I’m scared.

I’m scared as I have never been before; this fear doesn’t leave me anymore. Every second of every day I’m aware I’m watched by something as great as cosmos. I’m aware I shared my mind with that being and it makes my skin crawl.

I don’t know what to do now, but I don’t expect any advice from you. I’m leaving the book with you, as proof. Its heart doesn’t beat anymore, and I’ve seen what I was supposed to.

Don’t read it.

Notes: If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving me a comment!! For people interested in a little bit of background: Lyria is a D&D character I have created that still awaits her chance to play in a campaign. She's an arcane scholar that has a dark little secret of actually being a warlock of a being she doesn't know a lot about. She's in love with knowledge and she seeks to learn about her powers as well as the world around her. I'm currently DMing a Ravenloft campaign and I just couldn't miss the fact how much potential for a corruption arc she has. Then I listened to TMA and I was like, she would definitely become the Avatar of the Beholding.

#i discovered you can copy tags straight from ao3 #ive been using that site for how many. 5 years now #:|#anyways #tma #the magnus archives #tma original statement #cosmic horror #niki.writes #lyria elerieth #goes in my oc tag because thats technically an au #im really happy with this one guys!

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lost-in-the-80s · 3 years

Text

Winter Memories pt. 2

Pairing: Axl Rose x reader

Words: 3,156k

Summary: The pressure of making a new album is finally hitting Axl. To get rid of some stress he decides to take a trip to Norway, however, he did not expect to meet a mysterious woman there. (smut + fluff)

A/N: I am back with part two!! Let me know if you liked it! Sorry it took me so long! There will be some lines in norwegian again, the translations will be below in italics.

Warnings: Mature content, swearing and unprotected sex. (Use a condom, guys!)

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car @ladieswttda @teasid @metalheartofgold @slashscowboyboots @ginny-rose-sixx @rumoured-whispers @normatural add yourself to my tag list :)

Tagging who showed interest for a second part: @sugwinter @vinylvintage @fosterchild-3203 @littlemisscare-all @ultrabithc

Part 1

A year passed after that weekend. December arrived and Y/N got ready to spend another weekend at Anna's cottage.

As she packed her bags, she couldn't stop thinking about Axl, the mysterious redhead she had met the year before. He never left her mind, not even for a day.

But finding him would be impossible, so she ignored her heart's pleas that begged her to go to the United States to look for him. Her best chance was to hope he was in the cottage.

During the flight to the mountains, anxiety washed over her body. It was the longest two hours of her life. Her stomach was full of butterflies, as the memories of that night filled her mind.

Taking a taxi she asked the driver three times to go faster, ignoring the fact that the track was slippery with snow.

As soon as she reached the cottage she strode toward the front door, hoping to see him already waiting for her. But he wasn’t there.

After asking Anna she was sure, he wouldn’t come. His name wasn’t on the schedule list, nor had been since that weekend in December.

Han må ha gått videre med livet sitt, og du fortsetter å tenke på ham. She thought to herself.

He must have gone on with his life and you silly keep thinking about him.

Y/N tried to stick to her routine schedule, but spending twenty minutes on a bus to go skiing seemed too tiring. So she spent the entire Friday in her room, reading and whining about her life.

The next morning she woke up late and walked slowly down the steps. She had decided to have breakfast and go back to the airport, catch a flight to Oslo and try to forget all of that. Staying at the cottage brought too many memories to her mind.

“God morgen, Anna” She said calmly.

"Good morning, Anna."

“God morgen Y/N" The lady replied smiling.

"Good morning, Y/N."

Looking at all the breakfast options, she just couldn't feel hungry, so she took a big mug of coffee and sat at a table, sighing when she realized she had sat at the same table he was at the previous year.

After a few minutes, Anna came over, pulling the chair across from her to sit down.

"Hva skjer, Y/N?" The lady asked, touching the younger woman’s hand on top of the table.

"What's going on Y/N?"

“Det er ingenting, Anna, du trenger ikke å bekymre deg.” She gave a weak smile.

"It's nothing, Anna, you don't have to worry."

"Det er ikke gutten?"

"It's that boy, isn't it?"

Y/N looked out the window, avoiding the lady's gaze.

"Han så veldig trist ut dagen han reiste."

"He looked really sad the day he left."

She looked at the lady, seeing compassion in her eyes.

“Ikke bekymre deg, Anna. Jeg klarer meg. ” She smiled, trying to look convincing.

"Don't worry, Anna, I'll be fine."

----

During the next two years, she improved. She focused on work and was able to be distracted from her own thoughts.

She had a few boyfriends during that time, but she couldn't help comparing them to the redhead, and given his color and brilliance, all the others became gray and opaque.

During the nights, his face appeared in her dreams, they were always together and happy and she hated waking up every day and knowing that it would never go beyond that, a dream.

Sometimes she could even go a week without thinking about him, but then something simple reminded her again. Like when she wore the sweater she was wearing that night.

She felt stupid, it was ridiculous to feel that way after so long, especially for someone she only met for a weekend. But every time a rock song played on the radio, she remembered him.

He had said he worked with rock and she always wondered what he meant by that. Was he a band manager? Or was he a member of one of the bands that had already crossed her ears? She would never know and maybe it was for the best.

"Y/N!"

The sound of her name made her look up from the papers she was signing.

It was Hanna. She had moved from the United States to Norway the previous year, working in the office's accounting. The two became close very fast and today they were best friends.

"Hanna..." She looked up smiling.

“Guns n Roses will be playing here in June!! I can't believe it, I thought I would never see them live again! ” She gave little leaps of joy.

"Hmm that’s great, I'm happy for you," Y/N said, smiling at the girl one more time before going back to work. She didn't listen to much music so going to concerts and festivals was not quite her style.

"Come with me?" She crouched down in front of the table.

"Oh I don't know, you know I don't like these crowded places."

"Please. I don't want to go alone. ” She made puppy eyes, staring at Y/N.

"Do not look at me like that!" She pointed her index finger, but Hanna was persistent. "Ah, fine, I'll go with you!" She gave in.

"Yess!!" Hanna celebrated as she stood up doing a victory dance.

Y/N started laughing, making the girl stop.

"What's it?"

She pointed with the pen. Looking back, Hanna saw her boss shaking his head as he looked in her direction.

"Shit!" She scratched the back of her neck, sitting on the chair in front of Y/N’s table. "Do you think he's going to fire me?"

"No ... but he'll think twice before inviting you to the Christmas party this year." She giggled a little.

"Thank God..." She breathed a sigh of relief.

"What day will the concert be?" Y/N asked, going back to signing papers.

“June 10th. I'm going to buy tickets today after work, I'll bring yours tomorrow.”

Hanna looked like a child when she was happy, which always relaxed Y/N's serious mood.

"All right." She prolonged the first word, writing the day on a post-it note.

---

June 10th arrived and Hanna made sure they arrived two hours ahead to get a spot close to the stage.

Wearing denim shorts and a black T-shirt, she accompanied Hanna across the field until she reached the edge of the stage. At least she would be able to see the show up close.

The hot afternoon sun went down and a cool breeze came with the night, but Y/N's irritation didn’t fade away. The band was almost an hour late for the concert and every few minutes someone was bumping into her, making her wish she had stayed at home.

The stage lights came on and a guy with black curly hair came on stage, playing a riff that sounded wonderful to her ears.

Kanskje jeg vil glede meg over denne konserten. She thought to herself

Maybe I’ll enjoy this concert.

Soon the rest of the band members appeared and she became convinced that it would be a good show. That's until the vocalist entered the stage.

He was wearing tight white shorts and a leather jacket, his hair in a red bandana and her heart missed a beat.

Her mouth was slightly open and she put her hand on her chest, to make sure her heart was still beating.

It was him. Axl. The guy from the cottage.

He funnily ran and danced around the stage and his voice sounded so different from what she remembered. But there was no doubt, it was him.

"What's it?" Hanna screamed near her ear when she saw that her friend was not moving.

"It's him!"

"Who?"

"The guy from the cottage!"

She had told Hanna about the event, although she had never mentioned his name.

"Axl Rose??" Hanna's eyes widened, looking from Y/N to Axl and to Y/N again. "Holy shit!"

For the rest of the concert, Y/N couldn't take her eyes off of him anymore. But he hadn't noticed her. They were on the side and he spent more time in the center.

But then the guitar solo started and the same guy from the beginning took over from Axl, who started to leave the stage.

He was smiling, laughing at something and then his eyes shifted to the right and he saw her. The smile disappeared completely from his face and stopped walking.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds before he walked over to the edge, making the fans next to Y/N scream out of control.

"Good to see you." He smiled, lowering himself in front of her.

She nodded, smiling, not being able to form words.

Fans around her started trying to push her to get closer to him, the screams making it impossible for her to understand what he had said.

He could tell by her face that she didn't understand, pointing sideways with his thumb and making a sign with his fingers that meant later.

"Backstage later." He spoke again and she could read his lips, finally managing to assimilate the information.

She nodded quickly, giving him a thumbs up.

After the solo, the band played a few more songs before finishing. At every chance he got, Axl came over to her, singing while looking into her eyes, making a huge smile come over her lips.

When the show was over she pulled Hanna by the hand, heading backstage. Where a security guard at the entrance made her stop.

"Hi, I'm Y/N, Axl is waiting for me." She said with a small smile.

"Identification, please."

"She showed him the concert ticket."

"This is the common ticket, I’m sorry Y/N, but you can’t pass."

"Wait! Y/N? ” A man in a red button-down shirt appeared behind the security guard. "Are you Y/N?"

She nodded.

"Let her in, Axl wants to talk to her."

"What about this one?" He pointed to Hanna.

"She’s with me!" Y/N said, taking her friend's hand.

"Let her in too."

The security guard made room, letting the two pass.

"Come, this way." He started walking down several corridors. "I'm Doug Goldstein, by the way." He turned for half a second offering them a small smile.

"We're here," he said after almost a minute of walking.

Opening the door there was a spacious room with several couches, all the members of the band were there, except him. There were other women in the room, some on the lap of the band members.

"They are groupies." Hanna whispered in Y/N's ear.

"What is it?"

"They like rockstars, travel with bands and sleep with them."

Y/N nodded, understanding what she meant. "Lucky for them, they are very cute."

"Aren’t they?" She laughed softly.

"Hey, I saw you two at the gig!" A tall, blond guy said getting closer.

"Oh my God, Duff McKagan noticed me during the gig!" Hanna said, putting her hand on her forehead as if she was going to pass out.

Duff laughed.

"And you are?" He offered his hand for them to shake.

"My goodness!!" She gave a little squeak. "I'm Hanna and this is Y/N." She shook his hand. "I shook Duff McKagan's hand!!" She looked at Y/N. "Do you believe? Me?" Hanna pointed to herself.

Y/N and Duff laughed.

"Is she always that excited?" He asked as he shook Y/N's hand.

"She is a huge fan." She said laughing.

"I am! I am! I even have a T-shirt signed by Slash. I paid

200 bucks on it.” She said the last part with a little remorse for the money spent.

"We can get you another one, I can ask the guys to sign it for you." He smiled a little and Hanna smiled, nodding quickly.

“So you are the famous Y/N! Axl has talked about you for years! ”

Before she could answer she heard his voice saying her name.

Looking to the side, Axl was standing in the hall, wearing only his shorts while a towel was slung over his shoulder.

Det forblir varmt. She thought.

He’s still hot.

He nodded, indicating that she should follow him, so she did.

After a few steps, Axl stopped, opening a door that had his name written on it, and letting her in first. As soon as he closed the door, her lips were glued to his.

Their kiss was hot as summer rain and urgent as if they only had a few seconds to do it. Her hands touched his face, bringing him closer, while his hands infiltrated in her hair, gently pulling the strands at the top of her neck.

A small moan left her lips and he smiled during the kiss, pulling away just long enough to say, "God, how I missed that sound."

He moved his hands to her waist, starting to walk farther into the room, taking her with him.

"Axl." She sighed his name when their lips parted.

He moved away from her a few inches as he stroked her face with his right hand, the left one remaining on her waist, keeping her close.

"Fuck, you haven't changed a thing." He looked at every detail on her face, as if he wanted to memorize it.

"I missed you." She smiled, touching his face.

Axl closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of her touch.

"I missed you so much, you have no idea." He opened his eyes, kissing her again.

The kiss grew hotter and when she realized Axl's hands were on the hem of her shirt. She lifted her arms, breaking and kissing and allowing him to remove the garment.

He let out a small growl in the kiss when she pulled his hair gently and he lowered his hands to her ass, squeezing her flesh before he propelled her upward.

Y/N intertwined her legs around Axl's waist and he started to move towards a sofa in the living room. He laid her down gently, removing his lips from hers just so that he could make a trail down her neck, slowly going into the valley between her breasts.

She moved her hands to her back, unclasping her bra and allowing Axl to enjoy her nipples. He took one of them to his mouth, sucking lightly by biting the skin while his fingers played with the other, causing a small moan to come out of her lips.

Y/N moved her hand towards Axl's shorts, feeling his already rigid erection over the fabric, making him moan and look her in the eyes. His gaze was filled with lust with a touch of malice, his pupils dilated.

Continuing his kisses to the south, Axl stopped at the waistband of her shorts, unbuttoning the garment and removing it from her body. His fingers caressed her core over her panties, making her gasp.

He slowly removed the last piece of clothing from her body, applying soft kisses to the extension of her leg, until the material was finally free and she was completely exposed to his gaze.

He stood up, removing his white shorts, tossing them on the floor before removing his sneakers in a hurry. He wore no underwear and the sight of his free and throbbing member made Y/N bite her lower lip while she sat down.

Axl climbed onto the couch, kissing her again. She moved her hands to his shoulders, pushing him to sit on the sofa, his back against the armrest when she climbed on his lap, making him smile mischievously.

Y/N touched his member, running its length a few times before collecting some of her juices with its tip and positioning it at her entrance.

Slowly she started to go down, keeping her gaze fixed on Axl's, she felt him fill her completely, letting a small moan leave her lips with the sensitivity.

She started with her movements, going up and down. Axl's hands found her hips, squeezing them firmly and guiding her movements until she reached a steady rhythm.

"Axl" She moaned his name, throwing her head back and allowing the sensation of pleasure to take over her mind.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful." He moved his lips to her now exposed neck, making her moan even more.

After a few minutes, Axl started to move his hips, meeting her movements, hitting her G-spot with strength and precision, making a loud moan leave her lips.

"Yes, moan for me, baby." He moved his thumb to her lips, allowing her to suck it, and he grunted at the sight.

"Axl ... I’m going to ..." Her breathing was rapid when she uttered the words between moans.

"I know baby. Cum to me. ” He said, moving his right hand to her clit, applying precise movements that made her moan even louder, if that was possible.

A cry with his name filled the room when she reached her peak, rolling her eyes and feeling her legs tremble with the wave of pleasure that spread through her body.

Axl's hands cupped her face, bringing her close to him as they continued to move. He enveloped her in a deep kiss and her hands tugged at his hair, knowing it was his weak spot.

"Oh, fuck." He groaned after a few minutes, parting their lips, but staying close enough that their noses would bump up every few seconds. "I love you." He said looking into her eyes, his thrusts becoming sloppier.

"I love you." She whimpered due to sensitivity, she could feel her walls tightening for another orgasm and she scraped his back with greed when a long moan left her lips and she closed her eyes.

“Fuck… Y/N.” It was all that Axl could say before they could both be hit by another orgasm, his jets filling her while her walls tightened his member, their juices mixing inside of her.

Sweaty and out of breath, all that could be heard in the room were their heavy breaths.

She leaned her forehead against his, holding his face with both hands as he hugged her.

"You don't know how much time I spent looking for you." He whispered.

She opened her eyes to meet his gaze.

"I hired a guy, but he never found you."

She removed some locks of his hair away from his sweaty forehead. "I went back to the cottage the following year, but you weren't there."

"Shit, I was on tour." He giggled a little.

"When I was told we were going to play here, I couldn't help but hope that you would come."

"Well, I'm here now." She smiled sweetly, kissing his lips.

“Come to America with me? I don't want to be away from you anymore. ”

She stopped for a few seconds, thinking about his proposal.

"Please." He pleaded in a whisper.

Slowly she started to nod. “Yes, I will go with you! I don't want to be away from you anymore either. ”

The two smiled at each other before engaging in another passionate kiss, glad for finally being together again.

#harley writes #axl rose #axl rose fanfic #axl rose fic #axl rose x reader #axl rose imagine #guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses fic #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses x reader #gnr #gnr imagine #classic rock imagine #axl rose smut

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hoaryoldbitch · 3 years

Photo

giving/receiving gifts

Winterfell, 310 AC, Spring

And I don't know anything

Except that green is so green

And there's a special kind of sadness that seems to come with spring

SANSA

Spring has finally come, but the recent snowstorm has covered the Godswood in a blanket of white. Jon will be arriving soon, whether it be today or tomorrow, Sansa can't be sure, because of the weather, but it won't be long now, and she needs to be ready, so that is why she came here.

She's made a decision. She's going to tell him the secret she should have shared with him years ago. Most days, she doesn't even think about it at all. Sometimes she'll wake up in the middle of the night, after a disturbing dream, and she has to remind herself that it was real, that it happened, and that she was the one who did it.

She should have told him a long time ago. It's either that, or hold her tongue forever, but she needs him to know if he is to understand what she's planning on asking him.

She should probably also tell him what she almost did the last time she visited him, that wicked, desperate plan. It was a good thing she didn't go through with it.

Ghost finds her first. It's been years since she last saw the direwolf, who nudges her shoulder with his nose when he reaches her. She stands and tries to loop her arms around his neck, getting lost in the mass of fur. When she pulls away, Jon is standing there with a tentative smile on his face, his arms hidden under his cloak, which shifts and bulges.

His smile widens into a grin. "Ah, there goes my surprise, but I reckon she's excited to meet you." He folds his cloak back to reveal a ball of pale grey fur trying to wiggle out of the crook of his elbow. He closes the distance between them, standing up on his toes to press his lips to her temple before handing the creature over to her.

She accepts it without question, looking down to find a pair of yellow eyes staring up at her. A sharp pang pierces her chest, but then the direwolf puppy tries to climb up her shoulder to lick her cheek, and she hugs it closer and giggles.

"Ghost made a friend beyond the Wall," Jon clarifies, and there's a soft smile on his face when she glances up at him.

***

"There's something I need to tell you." She's a coward. She has let the rest of the day and a very pleasant night pass without revealing her secret. Jon looks up from his bowl of porridge, but still, she doesn't say anything.

He lowers his eyes, scooping up another spoonful and bringing it to his mouth. When he swallows, he puts the spoon down and sits back, raising an eyebrow as he looks at her.

"I think it happened that very first night," she starts. After that night it took him a fortnight of planning, preparing and making arrangements before he left to lead the Night's Watch and the Free Folk into a new era. And it took her another fortnight to realize that her moonblood hadn't come.

There was joy, but fear as well, too much fear. She'd only been queen for a moon's turn. She wasn't ready to become a mother as well. She wanted it, all the more so because Jon was the father, but she couldn't. She couldn't raise a child all by herself with a kingdom to rebuild and a heart that still needed healing after all its years of suffering.

So she went to the maester and asked for tansy and mint and wormwood, a spoon of honey and a drop of pennyroyal.

"I wasn't ready," she repeats, unable to meet his eyes. "I killed our babe, Jon."

His silence is suffocating, and when he finally speaks, his voice is strained and rough. "You should have told me."

"You were still on the road, you had the only ravens trained to fly between Winterfell and Castle Black with you. A messenger would have taken too long." All plausible excuses, but excuses all the same. Finally, she looks at him. "You were clear. You weren't going to stay. And there was no time to consult you."

He purses his lips and his fist clenches around his cup at the accusation, at her detached choice of words. "Still, you should have told me."

"It was done." She tries to shrug.

He sighs, rubs his forehead with a hand. "Sansa..."

"I'm sorry," she mutters. "You had the right to know. I didn't want to add to your burdens."

He leaps to his feet, his chair almost toppling back. "Of course I had the fucking right to know!" he explodes. "But you shouldn't have had to go through that alone!"

You weren't around anyway, she wants to scream at him, but that's not what she needs this conversation to be about. She can't even explain to herself why she finally decided to tell him after all these years, why she felt compelled to do so when it's really something else she wants to ask him. Is she playing his game now, is she wrecking her own wishes? Or is she simply trying to alleviate the guilt she's been carrying for all these years?

She wants to go to him and ask him to hold her, but she isn't sure he would, not right now.

"Would you have stayed?" she asks, if I had told you? she wants to ask, but instead she says, "If I had decided to keep it?"

Another long silence. "You deserve the truth, but the truth is that I'm not certain if I would have." He wants to say yes, she can see it. And she wants him to, though she doesn't know what it would mean if he had been willing to stay for a babe she killed.

"Perhaps," he adds after a while. "That's the best I can give you."

Perhaps can be enough. It may be for the best. They'll never know anyway. But now that he's answered that question, she can ask him what she's truly been wanting to ask him. He surprises her by walking around the table and tugging her to her feet and into his arms.

She wants to let her tears flow, but she can't. Not today, not if she is to ask him what she wants to ask him.

"I think I'm ready now," she murmurs into his neck.

He pulls back to look at her, confusion written on his face.

She takes a deep breath. "I'd like to have a babe. Winterfell needs an heir, and I've always wanted children. I think I'm ready now."

He releases her and returns to his chair, rubbing his beard before he meets her eyes. "So this is goodbye then?"

That's the last answer she expected of him, one she didn't even expect at all. "What?" She walks over to reach for his hand, but he pulls it away. "No, of course not."

He shakes his head, a bitter smile tugging up his lips. "Even as Queen, I don't think you'll be able to find a husband who'll agree to you keeping me around as your paramour." He spits out the last word. "And I don't think I could do it."

"A husband?" she utters, baffled.

He looks at her as if he's wondering whether she's lost her wits. "Well, how else were you planning to get children?"

She can't help but laugh. "With you, obviously!"

"Sansa," he says gently, "you remember the conditions." He reaches for his cup and drains it. "I'm not allowed to wed." Though he didn't swear any vows when he went back to Castle Black, it was agreed upon by those who knew that there couldn't be any children carrying his true name. She wouldn't allow that anyway. Their children would be Starks, and they wouldn't break the conditions.

"I'd prefer not to wed, not even if it's you," she informs him.

"Sansa!" The utter shock on his face surprises her. She's told him several times she will never marry again.

"The Mormont women don't take husbands either. People say they are skinchangers who find their mates in the woods, and that their children are fathered by bears."

"You don't believe that, do you?" he huffs.

"Of course not." She resists the urge to roll her eyes. "But it's a good story. My children will be Starks, and if anyone asks who their father was, I'll them it was a wolf."

He barks out a laugh, and she reaches for him again, putting a hand on his shoulder this time. "I know it's a lot to ask from you. Take your time to think it through, please?"

He covers her hand with his own for a brief moment, but he doesn't look at her again. She walks away to leave him alone in the room.

JON

It has been a sennight since their conversation, and Jon has spent the last three days in the Wolfswood with Ghost. He knows Sansa must have been worried about him. It must be torture for her not to know where he is or when he'll return, if she even understands why he fled in the first place. But he needed the time away.

Even now that he's returned to Winterfell, he hasn't made up his mind yet. He only came back to prevent her from sending out a search party for him.

She killed his babe, her words, not his. What does it mean? He should have been there for her, but he wasn't. She didn't even tell him though. What does it mean?

He knows what he wants. He has for years, but he wasn't ready, and there was so much holding him back. He only needs to remind himself of what happened whenever life offered him a good thing and he chose to accept it; for that immense fear to overwhelm him again.

Life keeps punishing him, and he isn't sure what for, but he doesn't want to go through it again. He doesn't want that for her. The short pain will be better for the both of them.

But he wants and wants and wants. It's a hunger deep inside him, howling like the wolf trotting next to him. He's afraid what might happen if he allows it to burst free.

Once, a thousand lifetimes ago, he had sworn an oath that he would never father a bastard, but he has not made one vow that he hasn't broken again at some point, so would one more make that much of a difference? It was inspired by a lie anyway, a lie that has shaped his entire life, but a lie nonetheless.

By the time he bursts through the door of her solar, fortunately finding her alone, he is not sure what he's going to tell her. From the way she tilts her chin up when she turns to look at him, he can tell that she's bracing herself.

"I'll stay," he blurts out. "I'll do it and I'll stay."

She stares at him, and her only visible responsible is a slight trembling of her bottom lip. It's not the reaction he was expecting. She reaches for an unopened letter, removing the seal and rolling out the scroll. Her eyes are on the parchment, but they are not moving.

He strides over to the table, his hands clutching the back of the chair opposite her. His nostrils flare as she continues to stare at the scroll in her hands. He wants to reach out and rip it away.

Finally, she looks up at him, and her eyes are icy blue. "I've changed my mind," she says flatly. "Perhaps I should get married after all."

"What?" he huffs. "You changed your mind?!" He wets his lips and jerks away from her, pacing the stretch of floor between the table and the door before turning back to her. "Was this a trick?" he spits out.

She shrugs. "I suppose you could say it was a test. Your actions and words have made it clear how you truly feel about it."

He grips the chair again, his knuckles white. "If this is about me leaving... What you told me, what you asked of me, it was a lot to take in."

She nods. "I know. It's not just that. It's everything."

"I don't understand."

"Don't you see it, Jon?" She rises to her feet. "After all these years, you won't stay for me. But you would for a babe that doesn't even exist yet."

He takes a step back. "Sansa..." He shakes his head. "That's not... it's not like that!"

"But it is." She crosses her arms over her chest. "I've felt so alone, Jon. I need to know that if you stay, it will change things. I don't want to feel alone with you here." Her teeth graze her bottom lip and she takes a shuddering breath.

"There's something else I need to tell you," her voice is coming out through her nose. "I almost did something really foolish."

He looks up at her, suddenly curious, but also a bit apprehensive. She's hugging herself, rubbing her own arms.

"The last time I came to Castle Black... I was planning... I wanted to try... But I changed my mind."

Her words are vague, but it doesn't take him long to put the pieces together. He asked her about that flash of panic he'd seen in her eyes, the way she'd begged him not to spill inside her.

"You didn't forget to take your moontea." He wanted to make it sound like a question, but there is no need.

She bites her lip and nods. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "It was horrible of me to even consider it."

"It was a horrible idea," he agrees, though he knows that is not what she meant. It's a good thing she changed her mind. He would have been furious if she'd gone through with it. But part of him might have been glad.

"I'm sorry, Jon," she says again. "I was afraid you might never be ready." She doesn't need to explain. He's afraid she might be right.

"But it wouldn't have been enough. And it wasn't fair to you." When has anything ever been fair? But it's a good thing she changed her mind. He doesn't think she would have done it anyway. Necessity has made her a practical woman, but he doesn't believe she could be that callous.

He can only nod to indicate he's heard her, wouldn't know what to say right now. Is there too much standing between them, even after all these years? If there is, isn't it because he's allowed it to stay there? Isn't it because of him that she's lived alone with these secrets?

It is Sansa who breaks the silence again. "I meant everything I said. I want you to be the father of my children, and I want you to stay." She reaches up to wipe at her eyes. "But not like this. I would prefer for us to spend some time together here, find our balance, make this place feel like home for you again before we take that next step."

And then he sees it. It's that old dream of hers, to rebuild Winterfell and her family, and she's desperately trying to make him fit into it. She wants him to choose her, but she doesn't realize that he always has, every single time. It's too much. Her confessions, what she's asking of him. He thought he could do it. He wanted to give her what she wanted. But he can't.

"No, you were right, " he tells her, keeping his eyes on the dark wood of the table. "You should find yourself a husband who can give you children. Don't worry about me. I won't be bothering you anymore." He can't look at her. He'll fall apart. He forces himself to turn away from her.

"Goodbye, Sansa."

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa fic #jonsa ff #my writing #jonsa valentine #and there would be no grand choirs to sing

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some-dr-writings · 4 years

Text

Nagito comforts a depressed Reader

· In all honesty, it was a rather lovely day. Winter was showing signs of ending, not quite cool or warm. A breeze gently rolled past, lightly rustling the leaves. There were scarcely any clouds in that endlessly deep blue sky.

· A lovely day…

· And yet…

· You strolled along the path with no particular destination, just like your life. Just moving because you were born, no other reason. No ambition. No pride. No dreams. And yet you were called ‘super high school level’, ‘ultimate’… what the hell did those mean anyway? Did you have a path now? Just follow wherever your talent led? Was that your only choice now? Well, you already screwed that up so probably not. Sighing, you continued to walk along, getting absorbed in the blue sea that hung above you.

· Walking along the road you listened to the tapping of your and others’ foot falls against the stone sidewalk. Your head was just empty. Anything absorbed your attention, consuming everything. It felt like you were underwater. You were aware of your surroundings, but it was all blurry, not able to fully comprehend what was around you unless you bothered to reach out, but even then there was something in the way, whether it be the water or yourself.

· Suddenly you and someone else crashed into one another. “A-ah, I’m so sorry!” You managed to squeak that out seeing the other person had fallen to the ground.

· Great, you screwed up, again.

· Like always.

· Your vision blurred, tears percolating in the corners of your eyes. Before the stranger could say anything, you dashed away. Leaving him to watch as your silhouette faded into the distant crowd. “Huh? What’s this?”

· Damn it. This was so dumb. You shouldn’t be crying over this! It was just a little accident… You tried taking deep breaths to ease yourself but it all just kept welling up. Everything. All the stresses, all the fear, all the confusion and sadness. You couldn’t stop or hold back any of it anymore. Even as your breathing hitched, wiping the continuous tears away, you kept walking.

· Then you heard something. A bird? A seagull. And… waves. Following the sounds, you found yourself leaving the quiet streets for the seaside. The beach seemed to stretch for miles while the ocean was endless, the horizon being nonexistent, the sea and sky appearing to be one and the same. The wind was much more powerful than before carrying that salty scent wherever it went. The shore and town were on separate elevations, only when you had found a small staircase and descended did you see there was a small area of grass separating the sand and the stone settlement of the town. It all appeared so grey or at least muted in color. Perhaps it was because of the patches of snow that sill sat on the grass, refusing to melt even under the sun’s rays. There was not a soul around, just you.

· Not wanting to deal with the aftermath of sand getting stuck in your shoes you took them off, walking barefoot along the shoreline, the foaming water lapping at your feet. It was freezing. Then you sat, hugging your knees to your chest, the waves occasionally reaching your toes.

· You never realized just how noisy the beach was even when no one was around.

· …

· It even sounds like it’s screaming sometimes…

· Screaming that kept getting louder with each second…

· Okay, what was-

· The noise came to a stop when a boy suddenly appeared beside you. From the marks behind him it seemed he slid face first against the sand! “A-are you okay, sir?” “I’m fine, just some bad luck.” You tried helping him up, gently pulling him by his arm. “Um, you sure? You look… hurt.” He was absolutely banged up, covered in scratches and bruises. His clothes were covered in sand, lightly tattered, absolutely disheveled. There were even leaves and some trash in his hair. “Really, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” Then it seemed he noticed something. “Are you okay though?” “Huh!? U-uh…” “Probably not, you started crying when we bumped into each other earlier.” “You’re the same guy!?” You never took a good look at the person, but what you vaguely remember was similar to this guy, most notably the white hair. “I’m so sorry!” “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I don’t mind. You seem to be having a rough day.” “I… I…” Your voice quieted and waivered. “I guess you could say that.” You couldn’t stop the tears forming in your eyes, you turned back to the nonexistent horizon wanting to pretend you were trying to hide it.

· And you just let yourself indulge in it. That oppressive sadness and pain that constantly crushed you under it’s unbearable weight. “Want to talk about it?” Why was he still here? “I’m just a nobody, the best I can do is hope to be useful, a steppingstone for others.” You buried your face into your knees. You just…

· Other than sheer laziness, you didn’t see why not.

· “Do you see it? The horizon?” He looked, even squinting his eyes. “No.” “It all looks like one giant ocean that’s endlessly surrounding us. When you first step into the ocean, it seems nice, but the further in you go the more you realize just how endless it is, not just on the surface though. It just sinks. Deeper and deeper, darker and darker it gets, till you can’t see any light at all. And the more water there is above you, the more pressure there is. With so much pressure, it can be impossible to even open your eyes, to try to do anything anymore. By the time you even begin to wonder which why is up or down, you can’t do anything anymore, and you just keep sinking. Sinking where, you don’t know, you can’t even tell if somehow you were starting to float upwards. And you just keep going and going. When you want to try, it’s impossible to anymore. No matter h-how much you fight, you can’t stop it. You can’t move. You have no control, at all.” Though he didn’t say anything, the unlucky boy thought of your words, taking them in, finding their sentiment, your situation, all too familiar.

· Then you started laughing. It was a pitiful, quiet laugh, sounding like a cut-up cry. “T-that… has been my entire life… and… heh, know what the worst part is?” You honestly couldn’t care what this stranger thought anymore. Even that was too much of a pain, you were just… exhausted. You looked to him, letting him see your tear stained cheeks, puffy eyes, your red face and pained expression. “I purposely sink myself. I do it over and over and over again. It’s comfortable, being in misery. I’ve been in it for so long, I don’t know anything else. Any chance I get at happiness, I destroy it. I’m scared. I don’t want to be like this anymore but before I can even think to stop myself, it’s too late, I’ve already destroyed the opportunity beyond repair and I tie another stone around my neck to sink deeper. I don’t want this, but I can’t stop myself. J-just like this time… this time i… i…” You couldn’t even keep your head up. You just… slumped over. “I received the opportunity of a lifetime on a silver platter and I just ruined it. Without a second thought! It could change my life, I could gain some semblance of control, but I just…”

· You couldn’t even speak anymore.

· You couldn’t do anything.

· You just kept sinking, like always.

· “You’ll be okay.” “huh?” “You’ll be okay. Even now I see it. The hope blooming inside you! It’s so brilliant and bright! Even though this is the lowest you’ve sunk, and you handicap yourself, you’re still fighting for hope! And even if you sink further, that hope inside you will not break. When you get past this, you’ll be unstoppable! The deeper the despair you face now, the greater your hope will be when you overcome it!” “… what? you don’t even know me. you don’t know that. i don’t need you to lie to me.” “I’m not lying. And you know it.” Amongst the crashing waves and the call of seagulls, you heard a new sound. A light crinkling? You slightly tilted your face as to see what it was from the corner of your eye. “… how did you get that.” “I found it on the ground when we bumped into each other earlier.” You shut your eyes and nuzzled into the little warmth you still held. “The letter is only partially burnt. You stopped yourself.” “… I’m just going to burn it later.” “… No, you won’t. Look at your hands.” You didn’t move… Ever so gently, he lifted up one of your hands. “You stopped yourself this time, it’s already blooming, you’re already trying to change.” Sighing, you glanced at it for but a moment. “It’s just my hand.” “You’re burned.” “… I’m physically self-destructive as well as emotionally and mentally, so what?” “You grabbed the letter as it was burning, even though you would get hurt… You wanted to save it. You may want to wallow in despair, but the hope inside you has grown so much, you can’t repress it anymore. You’re scared to change, but your want for change will soon outweigh the fear.” He slipped the letter into your hand. “But… by the time you gain the courage to take the leap, to try to swim to the surface, it might be too late. I don’t know what this opportunity is, but… it’s clear you want it. You should go for it… but this is coming from a nobody, so I guess my opinion doesn’t really matter.” You felt a small, deep chuckle rumble deep in his chest. “great, another way to screw over myself.” “Another challenge you’ll overcome.” “or not.” “You will.” “you don’t know that.” “I do.” “that’s impossible.” “It’s not.” “i don’t believe you.” “You don’t have too.” “… well you… i… but… I don’t know how to respond to that.”

· You sighed, realizing you were defeated. You held up the letter, taking a better look. Seeing the ash, you recalled how you so fervently grabbed it off the newly lit log in the fireplace… “I don’t believe you, not a word you say. But… I… might want to believe. Maybe? I don’t know.” You hugged that comforting warmth, not wanting to think of this. Just letting yourself get lost in the moment. The sounds of the waves. The cool wind rushing past. The soft sand and the warmth you felt in the unlucky guy’s voice, his words, what you were holding so tightly and the feeling growing in your chest.

· Wait…

· It was then you realized it.

· When you helped the guy get up, you never let go of his arm… and eventually you started hugging it… And you were leaning your head on his shoulder, even nuzzling into him during your entire conversation… You were even still holding hands…

· You threw yourself back, a new warmth spreading across your entire face. “I-I, I. I’M SO SORRY! I DIDN’T REALIZE I WAS TOUCHING YOU! WAIT, NO THAT SOUNDS BAD, I WASN’T-I DIDN’T MEAN- I’M SO SORRY!” You ran away as quickly as you could. This was so freaking embarrassing! What were you doing!? In your panic you didn’t notice how when you ran off you were running on sand… Sand which was kicked up and crashed into the poor, unlucky boy. “Huh… was meeting them the good luck that evened out the bad from earlier?”

· You were so embarrassed you ran all the way home. Once there it sunk in what you had done. And you felt so ashamed for leaving him behind like that.

· You dwelled on that encounter. For a long time you did. Eventually you reached a conclusion. Taking a deep breath, you accepted the offer. You needed to make a change. Now.

· Not even two months later and there you were, standing at the entrance of Hope’s Peak. You were actually here. You were going to do this. You trembled, feeling your heart booming in your ears and against your ribcage. This was it. A new chapter in your life that you made happen. A chapter you had control over.

· Then you heard a crashing sound, seeing something fall out of a tree. You raced up to it, hearing groaning. “I wonder what this bad luck streak is leading up too? It’s been two months now.” “It’s you!” “Huh? Oh.” You were here. “I’m so sorry about just leaving you at the beach! Here, please let me help you up, and I won’t hug your arm this time, I swear. Heh, hehe, heh… I just kinda like hugs and touches and stuff. Wait! Don’t take it the wrong way! That sounded weird, didn’t it? Sorry!” He smiled, instantly knowing that this moment, you reaching your hand out to help him to his feet, chatting away as you walked to class together, being in the exact same class. This was what all that bad luck was leading up too. Meeting you again.

#danganronpa #danganronpa imagine #danganronpa imagines #dr imagine #dr imagines #danganronpa 2 #danganronpa 2 imagine #danganronpa 2 imagines #dr 2 imagine #dr 2 imagines #nagito komaeda #mod gundham #danganronpa2 #super danganronpa 2 #danganronpa x reader #nagito x reader #nagito komaeda x reader

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harrywritingsbyme · 4 years

Note

This prompt is so personal but i NEED it. Let’s just start by saying that my dad HATES me. He does. He always used to beat me when i was a kid. And if he could, he would still do it now that i’m 20. Could you write something about Harry finding out about this? Telling me that i am worth it and that all the mean things my dad told me are not true. And maybe he goes and beat him up. Dunno. But just thinking about Harry protecting me makes my heart melt. Thank you if you’ll do, means a lot.

Dad

TW: Mentions of death, and mild mentions of physical/emotional abuse

A/N: I know this was a little while ago, but I hope you’re feeling a little better and I hope the situation with your dad has gotten a little better now. I created a storyline, but I kept all of the information from your ask. I hope this is everything you wanted ☺️💕 Enjoy🙃

You didn’t choose to have a bad relationship with your dad. Ever since you were little, all you wanted was to have this great, picture perfect relationship with him, but instead you got the exact opposite. Your entire childhood was filled with tears. You were all alone with no one to talk to about the things you were going through. You just wanted to get as far away from him as possible. As time went on and you were nearing the point in your life where you could finally leave home you did everything you could to ensure that you would be as far away from him as possible.

Normally kids would miss their parents when it was time to leave for college. But you on the other hand chose the school on the other side of the country and worked your ass off to make sure you got in. And when you did, you immediately began to pack up all of your things. You counted the days until you could just leave, you'd been planning and saving for months for that day. On the day of your high school graduation you decided to just pick up and go. You moved far away from him and you never looked back.

Ever since then, you built a life without him in it. You graduated from college and you made something out of yourself. You put everything from your childhood behind you and you went forward. In moving forward you met the love of your life. When you met Harry, it was like a breath of fresh air. He helped you to see how you were supposed to be treated and loved. You guys had something that you wanted to hold onto forever.

In creating something positive and amazing with Harry, you held back the intricate details of your past. You didn’t tell Harry about what happened between you and your dad. All you did was tell him that your mom died when you were really young, and that you had an estranged relationship with your dad. Thats all you said to him, and thats all you really felt the need to say. Thats all you wanted to say, because if you talked about it, it was going to make you sad. And if you were sad, you were going to cry. And you really didn’t want to cry. Of course you weren’t going to be happy all of the time, but if you could limit the amount of times that you weren’t, you were definitely going to try your best to do so.

You wanted to tell Harry, it was just that you were afraid of how it could change things. You didn’t want him to throw you a pity party, you just wanted him to hear and understand the pain your dad caused you. That’s it, that’s all you wanted. You were just waiting until the right time. Except you weren’t going to have the opportunity to wait for the ‘right time’, because the right time was happening right now.

“Hey babe, whats this?” Harry turns to show you the box in his hands.

“Um, how’d you find that?” You sit up in the bed.

“I was looking for one of my shirts, and I know that you have most of them and I went to grab one and I just stumbled across this.” He explains. “You don’t have to explain though.” he rushes out.

“No, I’ll talk about it” because now or never. You’d been together for a little over a year now and it was time to talk about your past with Harry. It was only fair for you to talk to him. You beckon him over to join you on the bed. When he sits down, he slides the box over to you. You take one last deep breath, and you begin. “So remember how I told you that I have a bit of an estranged relationship?”

“Yeah, you said that you guys haven’t spoken since you were in high school”

“Yeah, um, theres more that I haven’t told you” you begin. You could already feel your eyes watering up.

“Look, you don’t have to talk about this if it makes you upset. I respect the fact that you may not want to talk about this. But whenever you are ready to talk, I’ll be ready to listen.” He reaches over and puts his hand over yours.

“Well I want to talk to you about it. And you deserve to know about my past.” You put your other hand on top of his. “So, where should I start?”

“Anywhere you want” he sends you a soft smile.

“Okay. So growing up it was just me and my dad. From the time I started school to the time I graduated, my life was hell. He’d constantly berate and put me down. He would tell me that I wasn’t worth anything. He’d take all of his frustration out on me, physically and emotionally...” the tears were already there, now they were just pouring out of your eyes. “He always blamed me for my mother passing and he’d tell me that I wasn’t worth his time or anything else for that matter. I just took the verbal and physical lashings up until high school and then I left and never looked back. And it was the best thing I could have ever done.” Once you finish speaking you begin to sob. This is what you were afraid of. You didn’t want to feel anything, you wanted to push everything behind you without acknowledging the pain that it caused. You didn’t want to acknowledge the pain, because it would be like he won.

Harry immediately moves further up the bed to wrap you in his arms. That only made you cry even harder. To have a man who loves you holding you in his arms was something you hadn’t really experienced until you met Harry. Nothing could make up for what your father did to you, but what you had with Harry allowed you to block out what you went through.

“So, before I begin my speech, do you mind telling me what’s in the box?” He whispers to you once your cries die down.

“Um, so despite the fact that my dad used to beat me, and probably still would today, it doesn’t mean that I don’t love him. As much as he put me through, he’s still my dad. And even though he doesn’t deserve it, I do still love him.” You sit up and you pull the box closer to you. When you open up the box you see all of the envelopes with the return to sender tag at the bottom. “These are all of the Christmas, birthday, and the rare thinking of you cards I’ve sent him since I left home.” You sigh. “I thought I got the address wrong but I checked and it’s the same as it’s always been.”

“So you’re telling me, that the man who put you through hell is sending back the letters you’ve written to him? He doesn't realize that your kindness is the last thing that he deserves?” All you could do was nod. You could hear the anger in Harry’s voice. Listening to how you not only grew up alone, but hearing that the man who was supposed to protect you was the man you needed to be protected from made Harry burn with anger. He so badly wanted to hop on the next flight to your hometown and give the bastard who didn’t deserve the title of being your father a piece of his mind, and his fist. He wraps his arms around you tighter, wanting you to feel how much he loved you. He wanted to give you all of the love you didn’t receive growing up.

“Can I give my speech now?” He whispers

“Yeah, let me just get some tissues first” Harry releases his tight grip on you and you run into the bathroom to grab the box of tissues. You climb back onto the bed and you turn to face Harry. He moves in closer to you and he grabs your hands in his.

“Well I want to tell you that I’m not going to throw you a pity party and me knowing this isn’t going to change things. I still love you more than you even know, and I will always love you more than you even know. I’m so proud of you and the fact that you overcome this and you became something beyond what you went through growing up. No one should have to go through such a negative experience the way you did. But if we look at this from a positive point of view, if you hadn’t gone through those things, you wouldn’t have left, and we wouldn’t have met each other and I have no idea of what I would be doing if I hadn’t met you. You make me want to be a better person.” By now the tears were streaming down both of your faces and they weren’t stopping anytime soon. “I’m honored that such a strong woman like you has allowed me to love her. I may screw up sometimes, but you have my word that I will never hurt you or harm you the way he did. And I promise to never hurt our children the way he hurt you either.” your head immediately shoots up to look at him. Neither of you had explicitly told one another that you wanted to get married and have children, but the feeling was definitely there. Hearing Harry say that made you melt completely. It was almost like it sealed the deal. Everything he said made you firmly believe that Harry truly understood you and that he was here for you.

You then leap from where you were sitting and into his arms. It was the only place where you felt completely safe. The two of you just hold each other tight. Nothing needed to be said, the way you two held onto each other so tight did all of the talking.

Once the two of you finally pull apart you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face. It was like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. You were able to finally felt comfortable enough to talk to someone about what you went through and it was really nice. You didn’t have the burden of holding back a part of yourself. You felt like talking to Harry about it was a way for you to unload some of the pain you’d been carrying around for so long.

Maybe you wouldn’t be 100% better immediately, but having Harry by your side to move forward in a positive and healthy direction was a good place to start.

Masterlist

#Harry Styles #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry x you #harry styles x you #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry x y/n #harry styles x y/n #Harry styles fic #harry styles angst #harrywritingsbyme #my harry writing #harry styles writings #concepts of h

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pwarkluv · 3 years

Text

❝ bookstore girl ❞ - knj

kim namjoon x reader | angst | 2.2k words

WARNINGS | lowercase is intended, falling in love kinda fluff, forbidden love au, bookstore au, idol au, some sad angst because iDoLs cAn’T dAtE (note the sarcasm), sort of a right person wrong time love story, forbidden love type of thing ya know?

SUMMARY | when the only reason he goes to his local bookshop every friday is to see you, the cute girl working at the cashier.

AUTHOR’S NOTE | inspired by “bookstore girl” by charlie burg. if you haven’t listened to that song before, GO LISTEN TO IT!! it’s one of my favorite songs ever <3 even though the song technically ends with the dude asking the girl out on a date, this is angst so the ending will be different :( anyways let us proceed!

the first time namjoon saw you he happened to stumble upon a bookshop right across his local supermarket. he remembers how excited he was to see one since there weren’t many places to go to read in his area without getting caught.

sure namjoon could always go to the library or something, but being one of the biggest kpop idols in the world meant privacy in places like the library wasn’t guaranteed. so a tiny bookstore like this was a gift sent from heaven (not that he really believes in those things).

the bell jingled as he opened the door, mask, cap, and sunglasses on to hide his identity. he still remembers your soft voice as you called out a small “hello” to him, a little weary with how sketchy he looked.

you awkwardly waved at him as namjoon stood in shock at how gorgeous you were. your hair was in a messy bun allowing him to look at your face in detail, momentarily stunned at your beauty.

he coughed to clear his throat a bit before continuing to walk around the store. he was doing well until he tripped over a pile of books he didn’t see, causing a thud to resonate throughout the whole bookshop.

namjoon remembers the loud gasp you gave out from the counter as you rushed to his side, freaking out and wondering if he was okay. back then he was ultimately embarrassed about it but thinking about it now brings a small smile to his face. the look of concern and absolute care made his heart swell as he silently cursed his luck. he didn’t completely hate it though, since it brought you two closer in the end.

❝ going back just to see if still in the store you’ll be ❞

since then every friday on his off day, namjoon would make a trip to the bookshop across the street from the supermarket to see you.

and to read too-

though he’s careful to keep a low profile and somehow has managed to hide his identity from you, you two still hold a close bond.

there were so many signs telling you to stay away. you didn’t know his name, you didn’t know what he looked like, and you didn’t even have his number. but whenever you saw him walking through the door you couldn’t help but smile knowing he’s here. you really wanted to know more about him but after the first time you asked, you realized you shouldn’t pry and instead be grateful for whatever it is you two have, afraid that if you stick your nose in his business he’d leave forever.

❝ reading only the books that you’d recommend to me ❞

every army knows that namjoon loves reading books and sometimes recommends books for them to read. but what they don’t know is that half of them were originally recommended from you.

it was a clear skied friday afternoon as you worked busily moving some books from shelf to shelf. it wasn’t a busy day, only namjoon and one other person had walked in the store so far. since you didn’t know his name though, you call him bookstore boy to his amusement.

“hey bookstore boy!” you yelled out from the top of the ladder as you rearranged some books. namjoon looked up from the book he was reading, a curious look etched on his face though you couldn’t see it clearly. you silently cooed at his head tilt.

after a while namjoon felt comfortable taking his shades off but still kept his mask and cap (or beanie depending on what he was feeling like) on for some sort of secrecy. he let out a silent breath of relief when you didn’t recognize his eyes or pry him for more answers.

“do you think you can help me out and pass me those books over there?” you grinned, the sun shining through the window pane and put a spotlight on you making namjoon flush a bit.

“y-yeah sure.” he stuttered, getting up from his seat.

“just please be careful.” you sighed. you’ve only known each other for a month and you were already hyper aware of his clumsiness.

namjoon just chuckled in embarrassment before becoming more aware of his surroundings, not wanting to trip on something and somehow hurt you.

but of course his luck wouldn’t allow that. though it wasn’t him who fell, his heavy steps shook the ladder you were on causing you to slip. it all happened so fast and before you knew it you were holding your breath, preparing for the impact. what you didn’t expect was finding yourself in namjoon’s clumsy arms, both of you frozen in shock.

your heart started beating fast as you looked into his eyes.

you couldn’t be falling for bookstore boy, could you?

❝ knowing more than just your name ❞

it was another free friday, the only customer who came in was your favorite.

ever since the day you literally fell into namjoon’s arms, the atmosphere between you two changed. namjoon took a little leap of faith and gave you some sort of name : joonie.

ever since then you’ve been calling him joonie instead of bookstore boy, the name sounding more fit than whatever it was you came up with.

with the courage you’ve been mustering up for the past week, you decided to ask namjoon out on a date. a friend date.

“joonie?” you called out from behind the cashier, hearing his deep voice hum in acknowledgement behind a stack of books, too deep into his novel to really pay attention.

your palms started feeling sweaty and all of a sudden the hem of your sweater was more interesting than the task before you. you silently thanked whoever was up there for having namjoon slightly distracted, which meant less embarrassment for you.

“do you wanna eat take out with me? here? after i close up?” you fumbled a bit with your words, cursing yourself for how dumb you sound.

namjoon immediately froze at your words, the book in his hands suddenly becoming uninteresting. his heart was hammering in his chest as he processed what just happened ten seconds ago.

did you just attempt to ask him out... cutely?

after a few moments of awkward silence (caw caw caw iykyk), you burst into a sputtering mess, apologizing as a feeble attempt to take back what you said.

“or we don’t have too haha i’m sorry let’s just forget-”

“i’d love to.”

and that’s how you found yourselves sitting on the floor of the shop underneath a spare blanket you found in the back, picnic style with the chinese food namjoon insisted on paying for.

the poor man was trying so hard not to spill the soda you secretly ordered behind his back after assuring namjoon not to buy any drinks for you guys. you were doing a (poor) impression of yoda and the giggles couldn’t stop falling from his mouth.

you couldn’t help but smile gingerly at his laughing form. he looked absolutely ethereal, eyes disappearing as he smiled. though you wished you could just rip the mask off his face, you knew your boundaries.

unfortunately, whenever he took a bite, he lifted the bottom of his mask up, continuing to hide his face from you.

that night you learned a lot about each other.

you learned that joonie was a nickname and didn’t really go into detail about why he couldn’t reveal his real name. you didn’t pry.

he told you about his six roommates and their quirks. how one was the total mom, always scolding them about their behavior and surprisingly food. the other was a mood, sleep and work being his only favorite thing in the world. one boy could light up an entire room with his smile. but don’t be fooled, he curses more than he breathes.

one was beyond charming and his duality was scary, to which you responded with a laugh wondering who in the world could be like this. the second to youngest could pass as the baby of the group, a “good boy” as namjoon would put it.

the youngest was a total brat and muscle pig. you almost snorted out the soda when namjoon explained to you the personality of his youngest roommate.

namjoon also talked about himself and how he was called the “god of destruction” in their household to which you didn’t disagree. how he loved books and nature, how he wanted to be a dad.

that night you two became closer, and namjoon couldn’t help but get scared.

❝ it wouldn’t be the same ❞

you didn’t know how things got to this point. tears were streaming down your face as you stood in front of namjoon, not knowing what to do.

an hour ago you two were fine. another unbusy friday, namjoon being the only customer that day. it wasn’t until you slipped and namjoon caught you was where you (think) you messed up. from the moment he walked in you could tell he was a little tense.

the day before, namjoon decided to cut things off with you. it wasn’t because he hated you or your “date” went bad. in fact, namjoon was in love with you. he was in love with the way you bite your lip whenever he does something dumb as an attempt to not laugh. he was in love with the bright look in your eyes whenever you talked about your favorite book. he was in love with everything about you.

but he knew now wasn’t the time, not at the height of his career. he couldn’t do that to his members, not after working this hard to get to where they were now.

dating is a touchy subject for idols. fans can be quite possessive and though namjoon love love loves his army, some people took things too far. being in love and dating you could open a whole can of worms namjoon wasn’t quite ready for.

you slipped on a mini towel you forgot was there as namjoon caught you. it was like in those kdramas where one hand was on your waist and the other on your back. the panicked look in his eyes once again made your heart race and you were surprised you didn’t have a heart attack right then and there. he was just so close.

the fuzzy feeling in your stomach took over and next thing you knew, you were kissing him. his soft lips were like a key and a lock on yours. it felt so right.

but then namjoon pushed you off, not hard enough to make you fall but enough to get you off him.

and things went downhill from there.

“you don’t like me, do you?” you said in a small voice, refusing to look into his eyes. your hands were by your side as you looked down, tears falling down your cheeks.

“no y/n, i love you. but i can’t be with you.” namjoon responded softly before taking off, leaving his hoodie behind.

your body reacted on its own, running after him. you didn’t spare a second thought over the fact you were leaving the bookstore unattended.

“joonie please!” you called out to the running figure ahead of you, your voice cracking at the intensity your words held. mustering all the strength in your body your hands wrapped around his figure, latching onto him like a fish in a net.

you brought your teary face to his back as his body rose up and down, panting. you could hear his sniffles indicating he was crying too. you didn’t know what to do.

what did he mean he can’t be with you? he loves you like he said. if he loves you then he should be with you, right?

“please.” you pleaded, words mumbled a bit from his back. you felt his warm hands engulf yours before he turned you around to wrap you up in a hug. namjoon’s tears kept falling as he forced his face into your hair, the height difference bringing a slight smile to his face.

“i’m so sorry y/n.” he kept repeating into your hair. the boy held you like you were his lifeline and that’s when you knew. you knew this was his last goodbye.

something in your chest burned and the pit of your stomach felt empty as you processed what was about to happen.

suddenly namjoon pulled his mask down and covered your eyes to kiss you for the last time. this one lasted longer, the bittersweetness in it evident.

you felt the love and the pain in it all.

and just like that he was gone, leaving your fairytale behind

❝ remaining fantasy, that’s more romantic to me ❞

namjoon watched bitterly as you laughed at this random dude’s joke, unaware of his watchful eyes. it’s been two years since that incident and he didn’t regret anything more than the moment he let you go. the only thing he was grateful for was the moments you go to make and that he was able to tell you that he loved you.

he didn’t expect to see you. after that day you quit your job and namjoon wasn’t able to find you anywhere. it was like you disappeared for a bit.

but the moment he say your eyes, he knew it was you. his y/n. but his y/n was on another man’s arm, your smile that used to be for his eyes only.

namjoon pushed his sunglasses up before walking past you two, not noticing the way you turned around as if his figure seemed familiar before turning back to your lover.

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twilights-800-cats · 3 years

Text

<< Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || From the Beginning || Patreon >>

Chapter 6

Dawn was brightening the sky by the time Russetstar led the way through the fern-and-rush tunnel into ShadowClan camp. Stoneheart’s shoulders did not feel lighter by the rays of the sun – he only felt sapped of energy, tired and hopeless as the Twoleg monsters roared to life in the distance. How could the meeting have gone so badly?

Russetstar wasted little time. She trotted across the camp - ignoring the curious mews from ShadowClan cats who clearly had a hard time sleeping – leaped up onto the Clanrock and raised her voice:

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey come beneath the Clanrock for a Clan meeting!”

Instantly, Stoneheart felt the mood in the camp shift from sleepy curiosity to alert worry. He made his way into the swiftly-forming crowd as his Clanmates took up their positions, shuffling and shivering together in the leaf-fall morning.

“How do you think it went?” wondered Pinewhisker to Nightwing, who was settling on her haunches beside him.

Nightwing’s whiskers twitched. “Not well, from the look on Russetstar’s face!”

Stoneheart swallowed. He felt Finchsong squeeze in beside him, pressing her pelt against his in the throng. “What happened?” the queen asked, her voice hushed in Stoneheart’s ear.

“You’ll hear about it,” Stoneheart murmured back. He felt drained, and wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep through this meeting. He didn’t know if he could take hearing of Leopardstar’s belligerent defiance again.

Russetstar certainly spared her Clan no preamble: “Last night, Blackfoot, Littlecloud, and I met with the leaders of the other three Clans to discuss how we ought to proceed. Unfortunately, only three of us were in agreement on the necessity of leaving the forest – Leopardstar was insistent that the Twolegs posed no threat to RiverClan, and refused to consider leaving.”

“Typical fish-head,” muttered Orre. “She’s always been difficult.” Many of the older warriors, cats who had known Leopardstar longest, nodded in agreement around the golden tom.

“Where does that leave us?” Oakfur wondered, raising his muzzle. “RiverClan might be closing their eyes to the issue, but the rest of us haven’t. Whether it’s to the lake or not, we cannot stay.”

Tallpoppy bristled, and she wasn’t the only one. Cedarheart raised his voice: “I still say that we needn’t leave forever – the Twolegs will find whatever it is they want and then be on their way.”

Stoneheart glowered at his Clanmate, who avoided his eye – or, perhaps, Cedarheart was avoiding his mate, who had already thrown in her lot to go to the lake. Finchsong made no move to counter Cedarheart, but she certainly didn’t move away from Stoneheart to go to his side.

“Either way,” Oakfur pointed out, “we need a plan for the meantime.”

“Agreed,” Russetstar meowed. “I plan to take the senior warriors to counsel in the training area. Oakfur, Cedarheart, Wolftooth, Blackfoot – all of you meet me there, and bring your ideas. We need a plan, and we need it before sunhigh.”

From within the crowd, Littlecloud rose up on his hind legs. “You intend to ignore StarClan?” he asked. “They chose Stoneheart and the others for a reason, that much has been made clear!”

Ripples of worried mews followed the medicine cat’s statement. Having him state outright that he believed that Stoneheart’s message came from StarClan made Stoneheart feel a little better, at least – it would certainly make the doubters and dissenters like Cedarheart and Tallpoppy look more unreasonable.

Russetstar herself, though, frowned. “I do not intend to ignore their message,” she replied, “but I cannot put aside that it was given to all four Clans – if we are not all in agreement, it may be possible that our destination, this lake, would not be open to us. Right now, I need to explore our options in what little time we have.”

Littlecloud sank, his brow furrowing. “I suppose,” he mumbled.

“Tallstar has already given up on his territory and moved in with ThunderClan,” Russetstar went on, turning to the rest of ShadowClan. “The uplands, he says, are barren of prey, and cannot support his Clan. ThunderClan has moved camp near the river. ShadowClan might be next – we need a plan for the now.”

Stoneheart sighed, looking up at his leader. She's assuming that we’re on our own, he thought grimly, as we always are.

Perhaps she’s right.

Russetstar raised her tail and ended the meeting. She leaped down into the crowd, while Blackfoot gathered the senior warriors she had called out around him. Swiftly, they made their way to the training area, dodging curious questions from their Clanmates.

“Incoming,” Finchsong warned.

Stoneheart blinked, confused, before he realized that Russetstar was approaching. The dark ginger she-cat stopped before him and jerked her head, indicating that he should follow.

Surprised, Stoneheart got to his paws. “What’s going on?” he wondered. “Aren’t you going to meet with the senior warriors?”

“I am,” Russetstar meowed, leading the way around the Clanrock. “We are.”

Stoneheart was shocked. “Me? What use am I? I already know where we’re meant to be.”

“I know.” Russetstar paused at the tree branch that bridged the stream between the camp and the training area. She nodded her head to the cats already clustered in the open space beyond. “You’ve far more experience than most with the world beyond our borders, though, and we need that.”

Stoneheart swallowed. She was right about that, at least. Russetstar padded over the branch, and Stoneheart followed. On the other side, he meowed, “Russetstar, there’s one more thing – about the cats that were taken...”

“Oh?” Russetstar turned to him, one paw still raised in a half-step.

“One of them was Tawnypelt,” Stoneheart reminded her.

“I know that.” Her tone was thin, impatient. Her tail twitched, and she glanced at the cats she had summoned. They were looking towards Russetstar and Stoneheart, eyes flickering with confusion at a conversation they couldn’t hear. “They’re all waiting, Stoneheart; get to the point.”

“Feathertail mentioned that if we somehow got Tawnypelt back, Leopardstar might reconsider,” Stoneheart explained. “If we can--”

Russetstar lifted her tail to interrupt him. “That's a big if, Stoneheart – we have no idea where our own missing cat is, or have you forgotten?”

“I haven’t.” Stoneheart felt his fur lift. How dare she think I’ve forgotten my own mate! “But Tawnypelt was taken by Twolegs, too – maybe she and Rowanclaw are together, wherever they, and the others, are?”

That idea seemed to give Russetstar pause, and she frowned. Then, she decided, “It’s worth considering; but we still don’t know where they might be, and it’s looking like we might not have the time to search. I agree that Tawnypelt might have been able to sway Leopardstar, but I still think we need to face what’s before us right now.”

Stoneheart opened his jaws to protest – Rowanclaw! The prophecy! - but he knew Russetstar would not hear of it right now.

Russetstar’s gaze on him softened. Stoneheart realized he must have been pulling a rebellious face, because she touched her nose to his ear and meowed, “If ever you are leader of this Clan, Stoneheart, you will come to learn just how difficult a job it is. You cannot please everyone and, sometimes, regrettably... you cannot save everyone.”

Stoneheart felt a lump in his throat, and he struggled to swallow around it. He hated that what she said made sense – putting himself in her paws was an overwhelming thought, though perhaps not as overwhelming as it had been before his journey to the lake.

Russetstar moved away, crossing the empty training clearing and settling down on her haunches beside Blackfoot. Glumly, Stoneheart followed, trying to keep his paws from dragging in the soft earth.

“Where are we, then?” Russetstar asked, curling her tail around her paws. Stoneheart settled down a pace away, ears forward to listen. “I want ideas.”

“There’s always Twolegplace,” Blackfoot pointed out. “We have plenty of cats who know the terrain, and it might be the best bet we have for a place to stay... or a place to wait out this madness.”

Wolftooth curled his lip, clearly offended by the notion. “It’s a worse idea than you think, Blackfoot – Twolegplace is where organization goes to die.”

Russetstar frowned at her warriors. “It is an option, though. And the only one we’ve got, unless someone else wants to chime in?” She looked to the rest of her small council, eyes flickering with interest.

“I say we just go to this lake without the other Clans,” Wolftooth grunted. The gray tom nodded at Stoneheart. “I believe him, and we’re likely to spend a long time searching for another suitable place.”

Stoneheart might have been warmed by Wolftooth’s approval, but Cedarheart was not a fan. He bristled, glaring at Stoneheart: “I still think this lake business is ridiculous! Why would StarClan send him, above all other cats they could have chosen?”

“It’s not like it was up to me,” Stoneheart grunted back, glaring across the group at Cedarheart. “I dreamed what I dreamed, saw what I saw, and did what I did – it was all for ShadowClan, whether you believe me or not. The lake is where we’re meant to be.”

“Where the four Clans are meant to be,” Russetstar reminded gently. “We aren’t all exactly in agreement on that, and who knows what that might mean for the prophecy?”

Oakfur put in, “Perhaps we could make our way to the lake on our own and try to find someplace else along the way? The lake might be made for the four Clans, but we likely won’t be four Clans when we leave.”

Stoneheart reeled. The idea of the four Clans that had stood together for as far back as anyone could recall splitting apart was unreal – but even Fourtrees clearly could not withstand the Twolegs. Perhaps that meant the four Clans weren’t meant to, either?

Then why send us at all? I cannot believe that the four Clans aren’t meant to be together, Stoneheart told himself. Even if it seems like they’re falling apart.

“It would be a risky journey,” Russetstar meowed, frowning. “We’ve got young, and old as well – but it may be necessary.”

“And Twolegplace?” Blackfoot wondered, raising his brow. He ignored Wolftooth’s snort of derision. “I think that, too, is still an option.”

“As do I,” Russetstar admitted.

“You can’t be serious!” Wolftooth hissed. His tail puffed. “I’m telling you, Russetstar – there's nothing there for us!”

“Agreed,” Stoneheart meowed. He got to his paws, shifting over to Wolftooth to stare squarely at his leader. Part of him felt a little foolish, taking a stand as the youngest warrior in the group, but he’d been invited here, same as them. “Russetstar, Twolegplace is the last place we should settle – especially after what the Twolegs are doing to us now!”

Russetstar blinked at him. “I don’t agree fully with the idea, but it is an option, and one we can explore right now – it may even bear some helpful fruit, Stoneheart. For all the Clans.”

The way she was staring at him made Stoneheart pause. Before he could ask what she meant, Russetstar got to her paws and announced: “Wolftooth, I want you and Stoneheart to explore the Twolegplace. Take another warrior with you – Pinewhisker has experience with Twoleg spaces as well.”

Wolftooth was bristling. “Do you have cotton in your ears, Russetstar? Haven’t you been listening?!”

“I’m wondering if you are listening to me,” Russetstar retorted coolly. “We have little time, and few options – ShadowClan is going to do what we can to explore what lies before us, preferably without uprooting our entire Clan before we must. So, Wolftooth, when can I expect your patrol to return?”

Wolftooth’s tail lashed, bristling as Oakfur, Cedarheart, and Blackfoot looked on with some measure of amusement in their eyes. Stoneheart would have purred, if he weren’t being sent with him – Russetstar certainly had a way of brooking no argument from her warriors.

“Before the half-moon.” Wolftooth deflated, still looking cross but clearly accepting Russetstar’s judgment.

“Good,” Russetstar decided. “Set out immediately. May StarClan watch over you.”

Wolftooth did not respond, stalking back towards camp with a lashing tail. Stoneheart gave Russetstar one more hopeful look, wondering if she intended to elaborate on what she thought was so useful about the Twolegplace – but her head was already bent down, talking quietly with her deputy and their remaining council about prey rationing.

“Stoneheart!” Wolftooth yowled, “Come on!”

Stoneheart jumped to his paws and hurried after Wolftooth, forgoing the tree-bridge entirely and splashing through the stream to meet him beside the Clanrock. He already had Pinewhisker beside him, attended by a worried-looking Nightwing.

“Be careful,” the black she-cat was saying. “The monsters... What if the Twolegs take you, too?”

That’s it! Stoneheart felt like a mouse-brain. Twolegs had taken Rowanclaw and Tawnypelt and the other Clan’s missing cats – Russetstar thinks we might find them in Twolegplace! Hope filled his chest, driving away his uncertainty and worries for the first time since he’d returned to the forest. Russetstar hadn’t dismissed his idea! The missing cats had to be there! Where else could they be – and if they weren’t there, there ought to be some clue as to their whereabouts.

“We can handle it,” Pinewhisker insisted. He looked as if he were still processing this mission, which he’d been suddenly chosen for.

Wolftooth grunted, “We’ll get some traveling herbs from Littlecloud and be off.” The big gray tom was already stalking off towards the medicine cat’s den, tail-tip twitching with annoyance. Pinewhisker followed, but Nightwing hung back with Stoneheart.

“Why can’t I come?” Nightwing wondered, staring after Pinewhisker.

“Russetstar wants us three,” Stoneheart told her sympathetically. Clearly, she had some fondness for Pinewhisker. “The fewer cats running around a Twolegplace, the better; trust me.”

Nightwing didn’t look entirely satisfied, but she turned away, heading for Tallpoppy and Skipnose. Stoneheart split away, heading for Littlecloud’s den after Wolftooth. He thought of Rowanclaw, and it gave his steps purpose.

I’m coming, my heart, he thought. For you, and for all the Clans!

#tb au #tb dawn

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440mxs-wife · 3 years

Text

The Great Debate

Pairing: Sam x Reader. Other Characters: Dean, Sheriff, Deputy Frank Walters (OMC’s)

Word Count: 6080+

Warnings: mild show-level violence

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Are you kidding me, Sam?" you exclaimed. "There's no question in my mind who would win that fight," you grumbled.

Sam rolled his eyes from the front seat of the Impala. He turned around to face you sitting in the back seat. "Okay, Miss Smarty Pants, who do YOU think would win that fight?" he demanded.

You let out an exasperated sigh before answering. "First of all, I don't think, Sam, I already know. Lieutenant Worf from Starfleet would definitely win in a fight against Chewbacca!" you retorted.

Sam snorted. "No way! Chewie has the brute strength, not to mention he's oh, I don't know, EIGHT FEET TALL," Sam shot back.

"Maybe so, but Lieutenant Worf is a KLINGON, plus he has the training and the skills to fight with multiple weapons. He doesn't just rely on 'brute strength'," you mocked.

"Yeah, but--" Sam started.

"Oh, for crying out loud, will you two nerds just shut up!" Dean thundered.

You and Sam glared at each other for about ten seconds, then busted out laughing at Dean's outburst.

"Relax, Dean. We're not really fighting," you explained between giggles.

"Yeah Dean, relax. Just two best friends having a healthy debate of Star Wars vs. Star Trek, and why Star Wars is the best," Sam grinned.

"As if, Sam!" you shot back in mock annoyance, playfully swatting Sam's arm. You looked at Dean just in time to see him roll his eyes at the antics going on between you and his brother.

You and the Winchesters were on your way to tracking down the cause of some unusual activity in Colorado. All indications pointed to demons, especially with the traces of sulfur left behind at the crime scenes.

Dean pulled into a space in the parking lot of the Moonstone Motel. He gave the two of you one last glare before he exited the Impala and headed for the motel manager's office.

That left just you and Sam in the car, which served to kick your heart rate up a bit. His chin rested in the crook of his elbow, his arm perched on the edge of the front seat. He looked at you with a playful grin on his face.

"What?" you asked with a chuckle.

"Nothing," he replied, still with that grin on his face. "You look pretty today," he remarked softly.

You felt your cheeks grow warm at the unexpected compliment from an unexpected source. Before you could open your mouth to respond, Dean opened the car door and settled back into the driver's seat.

Dean parked the Impala in front of the rooms, then handed you a key for your own room, #12. Sam followed his brother to their room, #11. As you put the key into the lock, Dean was doing the same for their room. You flashed Sam a warm smile, then ducked into your room.

You dropped your bag on one of the chairs and perched on the edge of the bed. You took a deep breath then flopped back onto the mattress. After staring at the ceiling for a while, you decided to take a shower. While washing your hair, you replayed the events that had occurred in the car just before you arrived at the motel.

It was an age-old debate between you and Sam, Star Wars vs. Star Trek. It was something the two of you liked to engage in to annoy the hell out of Dean on long car rides. He endured it for as long as he could, then usually ended up telling the both of you to shut up. Sometimes, either you or Sam tried to get in one last parting shot against the other. Dean would again yell at the offender to shut up, and that would be the end of it.

You thought back on some of your previous discussions. Marvel vs. DC, Lord of the Rings vs. Harry Potter, even Looney Tunes vs. Tom and Jerry. Sam had fought you tooth and nail on most of those until you finally had to call a truce, basically agreeing to disagree.

However, today's debate ended without the usual fanfare of one of you trying to get in the last word. It was almost like he let you win, but Sam wasn't known to do that. He was nothing if not persistent, practically to the point of being irritating. There was no way you could ever be angry with Sam for long, though, not with how you felt about him. Then there was his last comment, just before Dean got back in the car. What was up with that? you wondered.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You had first met the Winchesters about seven years ago, when they rescued you on a shapeshifter hunt in Evansville, Indiana. Your hunting partner, Andrew, had been captured by the shifter. You tracked it through the sewer tunnels beneath the city, but by the time you found Andrew, it was too late. As you tried to recover from your initial shock of Andrew's death, the shifter ambushed you. You got knocked around, hit your head a couple of times and broke your arm in the process.

The shifter managed to get the upper hand and knocked you to the ground again. Your silver knife was just out of your reach, and you were fighting hard just to remain conscious. As the shifter was about to strike the final blow, Dean came out of the shadows and killed it.

Sam came rushing to your side, checking you for injuries, while Dean looked around for other shifters and/or victims. Once Sam was satisfied you could be moved without causing further injury, he picked you up and put you in the backseat of your '68 Nova. He drove you to the hospital and stayed while you were treated for your broken arm and probable concussion.

The hospital wouldn't release you on your own due to the concussion, so Sam volunteered to be responsible for you. He drove your car back to the motel, which happened to be the same one that they were staying in, only a couple of doors down. You spent the evening getting to know Sam, while Dean went off to the local bar to celebrate a successful hunt.

As the months went by, the two of you became best friends. After awhile, you found that your feelings toward Sam had begun to change. At first, you dismissed it as some sort of "hero worship", from the aftermath of the shifter case. Then, you thought maybe it was infatuation, from the way he took care of you, almost like a "Florence Nightingale" effect.

Eventually, you realized that your feelings for the younger Winchester went beyond best friends and were not related to the shifter incident. However, after having had your heart broken before, you were reluctant to take that leap of faith to reveal your true feelings to Sam.

Over time, you've done your best to hide them, push them down and pretend they didn't exist. Even so, the current course of action was becoming more difficult with every smile, every lingering look and every touch that electrified your skin. After what happened on the car ride today, you knew something was going to break sooner or later. You just weren't sure what you'd do when it did.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In Room #11

"So, what do you say, Sammy? What say we find a bar, have a few drinks and go check out the 'local wildlife', hmm?" Dean grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

Sam was researching something on his laptop. "Nah, you go on ahead, Dean. I'll just stay here, see what else I can find out about this case," he mumbled, eyes never leaving the computer screen.

"Come on, Sammy, you know what they say. All research and no whiskey makes Sam a dull boy," Dean teased.

Sam threw Dean one of his famous bitch faces. "Really Dean? That's the best you've got?" he grumbled.

"What's with you, man? You don't want to come out tonight for a drink and to dance with a pretty girl, you'd rather stay in. Oh, and by the way? Why did you let her win that argument today?" Dean remarked.

"What are you talking about? I didn't let her win anything. You told us to stop arguing, so we did," Sam replied.

"Yeah, but one of you usually throws in one last parting shot, and neither one of you even tried. So, I ask again, little brother, what's with you?" Dean asked. "Are you really that tired? Did you think she was right? Do you like her or something?" he persisted.

When Sam looked up in response to his last question, awareness suddenly dawned on Dean. "You do like her! I'll bet you wanted her to know what it feels like to win, so you caved! Oh, this is too sweet," Dean gloated.

"Shut up, Dean, you don't know what you're talking about," Sam growled. "Besides, even if I did have feelings for her, there's no way she'd return them. She's an amazing woman. Smart, beautiful, and she deserves someone who can give her the world. Besides, she's my best friend, for cryin' out loud. Probably all we'll ever be, though," he muttered.

Dean pursed his lips. Oh, Sammy, if only you knew what I know, he thought to himself. Dean found out about your feelings for Sam after a drunken night in the library. After one too many shots of whiskey, you'd let the confession slip out, and instantly panicked. You made Dean swear not to tell Sam, but he also made you promise to tell Sam before too much time passed.

Dean shrugged, grabbed his keys to the Impala and headed out the door. "All right, but don't wait up. You know, you don't have to stay in here all alone after I leave," he grinned mischievously.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Dean," he replied. Dean finally left the room, got into the Impala and headed for the bar. "Finally," Sam grumbled.

He thought about Dean's last comment, the one about not staying in their room all alone while he went out. Sam wondered if you were already asleep, or if you might be interested in watching a movie with him. He quickly changed into his pajamas, made sure he had the motel room key in his pocket and knocked on your door.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As you towel-dried your hair, you heard the roar of the Impala's engine as she pulled away from the motel. Guess the two of them are headed out to blow off some steam, you said to yourself. As you were about to pull the blankets over your head, you heard a knock at the door. You glanced through the peephole and saw that it was Sam.

"Hi," you greeted him as you stepped aside to let him in.

"Hey," he replied. He looked at you then at the blankets turned down. "Oh, you were just going to bed, I'm sorry. I should go," he stammered.

You put your hands on his solid, muscular chest to stop him. "No, no, you don't have to go. As long as you're here, would you like to watch something on TV?" you asked hopefully.

"Sure, a-as long as I'm here," Sam smiled shyly. Your hands on his chest seemed to solidify his decision to stay.

You went over to your previous spot on the bed and got your legs under the blankets then maneuvered into a sitting position. You were having some difficulty in propping up some pillows between your back and the headboard. After he got underneath the blankets, Sam reached over and helped put the pillows in the right place for you. "Thank you, Sam," you remarked softly.

Sam looked around for the remote then found it on the nightstand by his side of the bed. He offered it to you, but you declined. He flicked the power button and started to run through the channels, finally settling on the first of four parts of The Stand by Stephen King. "Is this okay?" he asked.

You shuddered, remembering the parts that you had read from the novel that were a little disturbing this late at night. You had enough nightmares from what you saw with your own eyes on a daily basis, let alone what your imagination could conjure up. "Yeah, I'll be all right, I guess. It's just a TV show, after all," you replied nervously.

Sam chuckled softly and put his arm around you to bring you closer to his side. "Don't worry, I'm here, I've got you. I won't let anything happen to you," he promised. In response, you put your head on Sam's shoulder and your hand on his chest. You let out an audible sigh of contentment and tried to concentrate on the program. There were a couple of jump-scare moments in the show, but Sam was there to hold you and calm you back down.

Soon enough, your eyelids started to droop and you were having a hard time keeping awake to watch the program. Finally, you gave in to your exhaustion and your eyes slid closed for the night. Sam pulled you closer to his side and dipped his head towards you. He pressed his lips to your temple in a lingering kiss and whispered, "Goodnight, sweetheart."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, you woke to a heavy weight across your midsection and a toasty, warm feeling throughout your body. When you looked down, you noticed that it was Sam's arm draped across you, keeping you held close to his body. You tried to carefully ease out of bed without waking him, but Sam was having none of that. "Mmm, g'morning, baby," he mumbled then kissed your bare shoulder where your T-shirt had slipped off.

The feel of his soft lips on your bare skin sent an electric shock wave racing straight to your core. "G-good morning, Sam," you stammered. You turned over to face him and saw that his eyes were still closed. You reached over and brushed a lock of his thick chestnut hair behind his ear, then traced his jawline with your index finger. Sam caught your hand in his and kissed each fingertip, one by one.

As much as you were enjoying this, you told yourself that it wasn't real. Sam was stuck in some dream-like state, one where he was kissing some other woman just like he was kissing you. That was the only explanation you would let yourself accept. Eventually, you were able to get out from under Sam's arm and make your way to the bathroom with your bag.

Today was the day for meeting with the local authorities and questioning the witnesses. That meant wearing your Fed suit with the black pencil skirt, white button-down blouse and black blazer. You ran a quick brush through your hair then focused on your make-up. You had left your shoes by the door, only wanting to put them on at the last minute.

When you walked out of the bathroom, Sam was sitting up in bed and Dean was already in his Fed suit. He had brought coffee and breakfast with him. You could feel an awkward silence in the room, as if you'd interrupted a discussion the boys were having. Sam rubbed his eyes then got out of bed. "I'm gonna go get dressed, then meet you both back here," he stated. He flashed you a quick smile then walked out of your door and over to his and Dean's room.

Dean looked at you with an all-knowing smirk on his face. "So, how was it last night?" he asked.

"What exactly do you think happened, Dean? Sam came over after you left, and we watched TV," you mentioned.

"All I know is that Sam didn't sleep in his bed last night, so he had to have slept here," Dean pointed out.

"Dean, what more do you want me to say? I fell asleep watching TV, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up with Sam still here in my room," you explained. Which was a pleasant surprise, you thought.

"Oh-ho, a little 'Netflix and Chill', hmm?" he grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes in disgust. "Oh, will you grow up, Winchester? Not everything is about sex," you retorted.

"Fine," he huffed. "One question though," he mentioned.

"What?" you replied wearily.

"Who was the big spoon?" Dean asked with a know-it-all smirk still on his face.

You answered him by slapping his face with a pillow from the bed. Sam walked back into the room just in time to witness the pillow being slammed into his brother's face, causing him to laugh. You gave each other a high-five.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After breakfast, the three of you climbed into the Impala and went over to the local sheriff's department. You wanted to see what they had turned up and also to get a look at the victims. Sam and Dean introduced themselves to the sheriff and began chatting with them about the crime scene and the victims. At the same time, you were trying to see what additional information the deputy may have.

Deputy Walters was kind of young, a little shy and soft-spoken, not exactly the tough-as-nails lawman you might expect. So, during your questions, you turned on your feminine charms, hoping that it might elicit more information. You hated to be reduced to using such tactics, but you reminded yourself that lives were at stake.

As you spoke to Deputy Walters, you noticed that Sam kept glancing over. His frown seemed to deepen the longer you and the deputy were talking. You made a mental note to ask him about it later.

"Well, I think that about does it, Deputy Walters. You've given me a lot of good information for me to review with my fellow agents. Thank you," you remarked, putting a hand on his arm.

"Please, call me Frank. And, you're welcome. Anything to help out an agent from the bureau. 'Specially one as pretty as yourself," Frank gushed. "How much longer are you in town?" he asked.

You felt your cheeks grow warm at his compliment. "Not sure, I still have to compare notes with those two, then go from there. Why?" you inquired.

"I was kind of hoping that maybe you might want to go out for dinner with me tonight? It's kind of a small town, and most of the ladies my age are already married. Besides, it's not every day that I get to meet a gorgeous woman who's also an FBI agent," Deputy Walters remarked shyly.

"How nice of you to say, Deputy Walt--Frank," you replied softly. You looked over at Sam and Dean, who were both still discussing the case with the sheriff. "I think dinner tonight could be arranged," you agreed.

"Really? I-I mean, that's great! How about we meet back at the station at 7, and we can go to dinner from here?" he suggested.

"Sounds great, I'll have one of my partners drop me back here at 7," you said.

"Until then, sweet lady," Deputy Walters took your hand and brushed his lips across the back.

Sam's eyes grew wide as he witnessed this exchange from across the room. He abruptly excused himself from Dean's side and made his way to yours. Sam placed a hand on your back and quickly ushered you out to stand next to the Impala to wait for Dean.

Once you were outside, you whirled around and turned to face Sam. "What the hell was that, Winchester?" you demanded.

"Me? What the hell were you doing, flirting with the deputy?" he retorted.

You pinched the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger. "It's the same as we've always done. We've got a small-town deputy who seems to be a little lonely and we need info. So, like always, you and Dean leave me to turn on the flirt. Don't worry, I have every intention of sharing with you all the information that Frank gave me. Before I head out for my date with him tonight, that is," you finished.

Sam's eyes grew wide at your revelation of going out on a date with someone. "Frank? Who's Frank? And a date?!? You're not going out on any date tonight, not with him!" he exclaimed.

You took a deep breath in an effort to calm yourself before answering. "Deputy Frank Walters and I will be going out to dinner tonight in town. He will be waiting for me at the station at 7, and I have every intention of keeping that promise!" you shot back.

"This is not one of our 'friendly debates', this is about you and your safety. We still don't know who's behind all this demon activity. For all we know, it could be Barney Fife over there," Sam huffed.

A thought struck you about Sam's true reason for not wanting you to go out on a date with someone. "Are you jealous?" you inquired.

"What?" he asked.

"That's why you don't want me to go out with Barn--Frank tonight. You're jealous!" you smirked.

"Don't be ridiculous. He knows we're only in town for a short period of time. And it's you who can't see that he's only seizing this opportunity to use you. Just to 'scratch an itch', without any long-term commitment," Sam muttered.

The look of horror on your face instantly told Sam he had taken his debate one step too far. He reached out to you to apologize, but you backed away from him. "I can't believe you said that to me," you whispered.

"Wait, I'm--" Sam pleaded, his hands outstretched towards you.

"DON'T," you shouted. "Don't touch me, don't talk to me, just stay away from me right now," you growled.

Neither of you noticed that Dean had finished talking to the sheriff. As he walked over, he had been watching the entire heated exchange between the two of you. "What's going on here?" he asked.

"Nothing," you both answered in unison, your response a bit louder then Sam's was. You yanked open the rear passenger door and settled into your seat, arms folded across your chest.

Sam did the same, taking a bit more time to settle in as he reflected on the last bit of your conversation. Am I jealous, like she said? he thought to himself. Why should I care who she goes out with? It's not like we're a couple or anything, he silently reasoned. But I wish we were, Sam shook his head at that last thought.

Dean looked at the two of you before he left the station to head back to the motel. "Oh. Yeah. Obviously it's 'nothing'," he observed dryly.

The Impala was barely put in park at the motel before you were the first one out the door. Your keys at the ready, you were in your room with the door closed before Sam and Dean had even taken off their seat belts.

"Dude, I don't think I've ever seen her so pissed. At anybody, let alone you. What did you say to her?" Dean asked.

Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath before explaining the previous conversation to his brother. "Whoa," Dean said when Sam finished. "You know she's not like that, Sam. She's not into one-night stands and she's not completely naïve about guys," Dean replied.

"Yeah, I know, and I didn't even mean it, either. But she's right, I am jealous of her going out with that deputy. I still may be right, too, though. We don't know who's behind all the demon activity around here. Deputy Dumbass being the cause of it isn't the most far-fetched idea, you know," Sam grumbled.

"Maybe. It could be the deputy. But all that aside, Sammy, you're gonna have to man up and tell her how you feel at some point," Dean replied as his phone buzzed in his pocket. When he unlocked his phone, he saw it was a text message from you.

You: Dean, will you please take me back to the station for my date? Need to be there by 7

DW: Yeah, I can do that. You ready yet?

You: Almost. Will text you when I am.

DW: Don't worry. Gonna be just you and me in the car, kid. Sending Sam to his room without supper lol.

You: Thanks, Dean.

"Is that her?" Sam asked. "Ready for her date?"

"She said she was 'almost ready'. I told her I was sending you to your room, so you gotta clear out, man. Don't worry, Sam. She's tough, she'll be all right," Dean tried to reassure his brother.

About ten minutes later, a buzz in Dean's pocket showed a text message that said you were ready to go. Dean relayed the message to Sam, who then got out of the car. He unlocked the motel room door and went inside, but stood waiting with it cracked open just a little. He wanted to see how you looked, all dressed up for your date. Also, to torture himself a bit more that it wasn't him you'd be out with tonight.

For your outfit, you were wearing your newest pair of faded blue jeans with a sparkly, navy blue top that had a boat-neck opening. You had on your black ankle boots with the wedge heel, and you had kept your jewelry and make-up simple. Sam drew in a deep breath at how beautiful you looked tonight and sent a silent prayer to anyone listening that you be kept safe.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dinner with Frank passed pleasantly enough, each of you asking questions to get to know each other better. You tried to keep your answers as vague as possible regarding your background and current occupation. You told him about your family and about losing Andrew in a car accident, instead of on a shifter hunt.

As you walked out to his car after dinner, Frank suggested that you go out for a couple of drinks and maybe some dancing. "I'm having a great time, and I don't exactly want it to end," he murmured as the two of you stood by his car.

He had his arms around you, and he was looking directly into your eyes as his hand caressed your cheek. It had been awhile since you'd had that kind of attention from any man. But with as shyly as he was acting earlier compared to now, alarm bells started going off in your head.

"Frank, it's getting late, I really should get going. Here, let me text my co-worker so that he can meet us back at the station," you said as you reached for your pocket.

"That sounds perfect, since we know those Winchesters will drop everything to come rescue you," Frank sneered.

"What are you talking about? My partners' names are--" you were cut off by his hand at your throat, lightly squeezing it.

"Save it!" he hissed. "Everyone knows you're working with those two flannel-jockeys," he retorted as his eyes flashed to all black.

"It's you," you whispered. "You're the one behind the demon attacks around here," you growled.

"That's right. Now call them and tell them to meet us here. If you don't, it's going to be a very unpleasant ending to our 'date'," he sneered.

You pulled out your phone to dial Dean's number. He picked up on the second ring. "Hey, sweetheart, is your date over with already?" he asked.

"H-hey, Dean. Yeah, I'm ready to come back. Dinner was nice, but it's getting late so we decided to call it a night," you replied shakily.

"Everything okay, honey?" Dean asked, his tone shifting to one of concern.

"Frank" gave your neck a little squeeze and a warning glare to remind you of the consequences should Dean not take the bait. "Y-yeah, I'm okay, just tired. Deputy kinda reminds me of that guy I went out with from Poughkeepsie," you chuckled nervously.

"Okay, we're on the way. Pick you back up at the station, right?" he asked.

"That's right," you choked out. "See you soon, Dean," you whispered. Hope so, you silently added as you disconnected the call.

"Now, we wait," the demon said smugly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean grimly looked at his phone after the call was disconnected. Sam could tell something had gone wrong, and he knew you were in trouble. "The demon--" Sam started.

"Yeah. Just like you said, Sam," Dean confirmed.

Sam closed his eyes and looked at the ceiling. Now was not the time for the I-told-you-so's. The main focus at hand was that they had to get you back safely. Dean grabbed his car keys and ran out the door, with Sam close behind.

Before getting behind the wheel, the boys checked the trunk to make sure they had a good supply of holy water and their angel or demon blades. When they were satisfied in their preparations, they got back in the car and headed over to the sheriff's station. On the way, Dean sent up a prayer to Castiel, just in case.

When they got near the station, they noted that there were five demon sentries keeping watch. Inside, the demon wearing Deputy Walters as a meatsuit had tied you to an office chair. He kept looking out the window for any signs of the Winchesters.

"You don't really think they're going to waltz in the front door, do you?" you scoffed.

The demon backhanded you across the face in response. "Keep quiet. They'll be here, it's just a matter of time. I hope they get here quick, because this meatsuit isn't cooperating too well. Keeps squirming, telling me not to hurt you," he mocked.

"Leave him alone!" you growled.

"You're not really in any kind of position to make demands, now are you?" he sneered.

"Listen to me Frank, I know you're in there, and you've got to fight! You can do this, just kick him out!" you pleaded. Another slap to the face, this one hard enough to bring tears to your eyes.

"Shut up! Or I will hurt him from the inside and it will be all your fault if he dies," the demon snapped. A noise outside caught his attention, and you prayed that it was your rescue party. You also hoped they would be able to make it into the building undetected.

"Looks like the party's about to get started," the demon cackled with glee. His grin faltered when he began to hear demon screams and see several orange flashes. You both knew that meant his demon army was being taken out, one by one.

"Noooooo!" he cried. With his master plan unraveled, the demon chose to smoke out rather than be sent back to Hell by Sam or Dean. Deputy Walters' body slumped to the floor, unconscious.

From your chair, you visibly relaxed when you saw that the demon was gone. Your head was down, and silent tears began streaming down your face. Sam and Dean walked in, guns drawn, but quickly put them away when they saw there was no longer a threat.

Dean tended to Deputy Walters, and for the most part, the deputy was okay. At some point, he was probably going to have to get 'the talk'. You knew he would need it to help him make sense about what happened.

Sam rushed over to your side and began to untie the ropes holding you to the chair. He helped you stand up once you were all untied. He gingerly massaged your wrists where the ropes had started to bite into them.

As you stood before him, you continued to cast your eyes downward, unable to look Sam in the eye. You felt a bit ashamed of how the two of you had fought before your date with the deputy. What you considered to be jealousy, was really only Sam's concern for your safety. Turns out he was correct in that the demon possessing Deputy Walters was the one you were supposed to be hunting.

"Hey," Sam said softly. "Come on, sweetheart, look at me. Please," he pleaded. You shook your head, but Sam hooked his finger under your chin and tilted it up so he could look into your eyes. His face fell at seeing the marks on your face from being slapped around by the demon. "Oh, baby, I'm so sorry this happened," he whispered.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for, Sam, I do. I apologize for not listening to you that the deputy may be possessed and the cause of all of this. If I had, none of this would've happened. I'm so sorry for how I acted earlier," you remarked softly.

"What matters is that you and the deputy are safe, and the demon left the meatsuit behind," he reminded you. His fingertips gently brushed your cheek, then he slid his hand to cup the back of your head. Ever so slowly, Sam inched forward to close the gap between you until you felt his soft lips meshing with yours in a slow, tender kiss.

"Whoa," you whispered after you and Sam broke apart from the kiss. "So that's how best friends kiss after a near-death experience with a demon?" you asked.

Sam chuckled lightly. "I don't know about that, but it's my way of showing you that I consider you as more than my best friend. I-I'm in love with you. Your smile, your laugh, everything. I could lose myself for hours in your expressive eyes. I want to run my fingers through your soft, silky hair. And my lips are itching to not only kiss your lips, but any other part of your bare skin that presents itself," he finished softly.

"Oh. Well, you certainly have made a compelling case. Only this time, I'm in complete agreement with you. I'm in love with you, too, Sam. Your intelligence, your compassion, how I know I can tell you anything and you won't judge me. Your strong arms that I know will keep me safe and comfort me when I need it. And those lips of yours sure do talk a good game. I, for one, cannot wait to feel their magic wherever they may travel over me," you responded.

It took all of about three seconds before you dove towards each other and your lips crashed together in passion-filled kiss. Sam's tongue darted out, intending to break the seal on your mouth, and you gladly granted him access with a smile. As quickly as the kiss started, you slowed down and took your time to taste and explore each other's mouth. A tiny moan escaped your lips, which seemed to re-ignite the fire within Sam, causing him to pick up the pace again.

When the need to breathe became too great, you broke apart, both of you panting heavily. "Wow, Sam, you're amazing," you remarked.

"Baby, you're the amazing one. I wasn't sure how much longer I would've been able to keep my feelings for you hidden away," Sam replied. "I love you so much," he declared.

"You know, I think I fell in love with you right after we met, after that shifter case?" you asked, to which he nodded. "At first I thought it was some sort of 'hero worship', because you rescued me and took such good care of me afterwards. But I can't deny it anymore. I love you too, Sam," you replied.

From the doorway, you heard the sound of someone clearing his throat. You both looked over to see Dean standing there, that know-it-all smirk back on his face. "It's about time you two confessed your feelings. I didn't know how much longer I was going to be able to stand watching you dance around each other," he grinned.

On the way home, Sam sat in the backseat of the Impala with you. His body was wedged into a corner, his back to the passenger-side door. Then his left leg was stretched out across the length of the bench seat. You sat in front of Sam, your back against his chest and his arms around you.

With the purr of the engine rumbling down the highway, you relaxed against each other. Dean turned around at one point to see that you had fallen asleep in each others' arms. He was happy for you and his brother. "Nerd love," he remarked affectionately, shaking his head.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tags: @yourelivingwrong @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @swiftlymoniquesblog @lyarr24 @miss-nerd95 @distefano123 @hobby27 @deanwanddamons @jessica-noel94 @wayward-mikaelson @jawritter @gabrielslittleangel @janicho88 @jensengirl83 @deangirl93 @idreamofplaid @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @winchesterprincessbride

#sam winchester #sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #supernatural #spn #spn imagine

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kpop-zone · 4 years

Text

Red Velvet reaction to their s/o being stressed out because of university

A/N: I’m back!

Irene

Please come over.

Joohyun didn’t know how often she had sent you this message in the past weeks, but she didn’t care if she seemed needy. Your finals had just started, and you had already begun to stress out about them two weeks ago. She didn’t mind that you were ambitious; after all it had been one of the reasons why she fell for you. Nevertheless, Joohyun was worried about you. You always tended to overwork yourself. Therefore, she wanted to have you around. This way, she could make sure that you ate, drank and rested enough.

I’ll be there in 5

You answered and Joohyun smiled to herself while already walking to the kitchen to heat up some food for you.

It didn’t take long till she heard knocks on the door, so Joohyun walked to the entrance to let you in. But she didn’t like what she found standing in front of the dorm. You looked tired and completely jaded, making her frown.

“Have you eaten already?”

She asked while taking your hand and pulling you inside.

“Um I’ve had some cereal.”

Normally Joohyun would have scolded you for thinking that cereal was a proper meal, but today she had compassion with you.

“I’ll take that as a no... But don’t worry, I’ve prepared something for you.”

She piped up, but you groaned in response.

“Joohyun... I appreciate the effort, but I need to start studying.”

You whined, but Joohyun didn’t even listen anymore. If you couldn’t take care of yourself, she would do it for you. No compromises. Good grades were important and if you wanted to, she would help you studying later on. But your health was more important than anything else.

“There’s no use in fighting. You have to take a break. You’ll see that you’ll study much better later.”

She answered and pushed you down on a chair in front of the dining table. With a grumpy face, you accepted your fate and waited till Joohyun had put all the different plates in front of you. It didn’t take you long to dig into the food greedily, making her shake her head. You could be so stubborn. But at least you were looking more and more alive with every bite; much to Joohyun’s liking.

“Better?”

She asked after you had finished your third bowl of rice and you grinned sheepishly in response, causing her to chuckle.

In the end, the two of you even ended up chatting for a while before you dedicated yourself to your studies. While you were completely engrossed in your laptop, Joohyun cleaned up the kitchen, took care of her own affairs and kept feeding you little snacks until it was 1 am. With a glance on her watch, she figured that you had martyred your brain enough for the day and swiftly walked over to you to wordlessly close your laptop.

“Joohyun!”

You gasped, but once again, she chose to ignore your protests.

“Come to bed?”

She asked sweetly while holding her hand out.

Contemplatively your gaze alternated between her hand and your laptop until you huffed in defeat and chose to comply to your girlfriend’s wishes. Joohyun grinned smugly and pulled you to the bedroom.

Maybe you couldn’t see it yet, but in hindsight you would be grateful.

Seulgi

Seulgi fidgeted with her phone in her hand while sitting on her bed and contemplating whether she should call you or not. Your finals were around the corner and you were stressed out beyond belief. You spent all your days in your room to study and Seulgi was starting to miss you. Nevertheless, she also wanted to be a supportive girlfriend. She didn’t want to distract you and be the cause of bad grades. But on the other hand, you could probably also use someone to take care of you and calm you down. Seulgi sighed in desperation. What was she supposed to do?

“Just go. I’m sure Y/N will be happy to see you.”

Seungwan, who was just passing by her room and had apparently noticed Seulgi’s desperation, said over her shoulder.

“But what if I’m just annoying?”

Seulgi whined, but Seungwan stuck her head in her room and looked at her critically.

“Don’t overthink it so much. Just imagine poor Y/N being alone in the apartment, without food, totally stressed out and without any form of comfort.”

Her friend’s argument instantly made Seulgi leap to her feet. She was totally right. What if you were spiraling and needed someone to ground you? In lightning speed, Seulgi raided the dorm’s fridge and cupboards and rushed to your apartment with her arms full of snacks.

When you opened the door, your hair was disheveled and dark rings were decorating your eyes. But as soon as you saw her, a smile made its way to your lips and you seemed to be happy to see her.

“Babe! I’ve missed you!”

You exclaimed before wrapping your arms around her neck.

Seulgi sighed in relief, because apparently you weren’t annoyed that she showed up unannounced. With her worries being proven totally unnecessary, she made it her mission to support you as best as possible from now on. After taking a quick glance on your notes though and realizing that your classes were much too difficult for her, she figured that her support had to be unrelated to your studies. Therefore, she made an effort to keep you well fed with snacks instead while you were engrossed in your laptop and notes. Every now and then, however, she also pulled you away and demanded her cuddle sessions that you patiently granted her with a giggle.

“I’m really glad that you came over.”

Seulgi felt her heart flutter and tightened her embrace around you.

“That’s a relief. I was worried that I might only distract you.

She admitted but you shook your head instantly.

“You didn’t. I was stuck in a tunnel and unable to think clearly anymore. But you managed to give me new energy.”

You admitted, making Seulgi grin proudly.

She would make sure that you would never run out of energy from now on.

Wendy

You groaned in annoyance. This was the tenth times you went through your flashcards, but you still couldn’t remember half of the stuff you had written on there.

“Do you need some help?”

Seungwan giggled from beside you as she averted her gaze from her laptop and looked at you.

“I think it’s hopeless. I’m going to fail this final.”

You whined while letting your head fall to the table with a thud, causing your girlfriend to laugh at you.

“Don’t say that baby! Nothing is impossible.”

She stated energetically, but you kept making defeated noises.

“You know what? I’m done with work for the day. I’m going to help you!”

You lifted your head to see that Seungwan’s eyes were sparkling as if a fire was burning inside of them.

“Don’t even bother. I’m just not smart enough for university.”

The past days of studying in vain had drained you and now you just wanted the final to be over, no matter the results. But apparently you were the only one in the room with this point of view.

“Y/N L/N!”

Your girlfriend using your full name with her loud voice, made you straighten up in your chair and look at her with wide eyes.

“I’ve said, I’m going to help you to study and that’s what we’re going to do. We never give up. Have I made myself clear?”

She said with a sharp tone and you nodded hastily.

“Great! Let’s get started then.”

From one second to the other, your girlfriend’s voice softened again, and a smile was playing on her lips. Nevertheless, you didn’t want to test what would happen if you doubted your abilities again. Therefore, you opened your lecture notes and looked at Seungwan expectantly.

Like she had been a teacher all her life, she helped you go through the material of the class. Mostly she gave you tips on how to memorize stuff quicker but sometimes she was even able to explain some things to you. Therefore, you felt prepared for your exam and completely in awe of your girlfriend after a few hours of intense studying. You had always known that she was extremely smart, but after today, you considered whether she was actually highly gifted.

“Do you feel better now?”

Seungwan asked after you had left your books behind and were now cuddled up on the couch.

“Yes, a lot. Thank you for helping me, jagi. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

You planted a quick kiss on her cheek, causing your girlfriend to blush.

“Of course, you could have done it. You’re so incredibly smart, babe. You don’t need to worry all the time. You’ve got this.”

She responded and you felt your heart fluttering in your chest.

Seungwan was the smartest person you knew, so who were you to disagree?

Joy

Sooyoung plopped down on the couch and grabbed her laptop. Once she had turned it on though, she didn’t know what to do. All she wanted to do was to spend some time with you. But you had an assignment to finish that you had been stressing out about for the last week. She had tried her hardest to make your week as enjoyable as possible; cooking for you, giving you massages and buying you little presents. This assignment seemed to be really important to you, so Sooyoung didn’t want to be in the way between you and a good grade. Nevertheless, she hated when you didn’t give her attention.

Just one more week.

Sooyoung thought to herself and tried to focus on the screen. But she couldn't find anything that was a good substitute for you.

“Will you stop whining if I take a break?”

You suddenly asked from across the room, making Sooyoung jump in surprise. For the past two hours you had been completely engrossed in the assignment and hadn’t spoken a word.

“I’m not whining!”

Sooyoung exclaimed offended, but you raised your eyebrows in disagreement.

“Did I?”

She asked sheepishly, causing you to giggle.

“Yes, you’re sighing and groaning for an hour now.”

A faint blush rose to Sooyoung’s cheeks and she looked to the floor in embarrassment. She hadn’t even noticed that she had been making noises all the time.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you. I’m just a little bored, that’s all.”

She apologized, because she really didn’t want to be the one to keep you from studying, but you were already making your way over to her.

“My poor girlfriend who’s always so neglected.”

You said dramatically to tease her when you stood in front of her, before planting kisses all over her face. Sooyoung laughed loudly and pulled you on the couch to wrap her arms around you.

“Ok how about we go out and grab a bite; just an hour, nothing too fancy. And later I’ll help you with your assignment to make up for the lost time?”

Sooyoung proposed because she was really craving some time with you right now but didn’t want to be a bad influence either.

“That sounds like a great plan.”

You smiled and Sooyoung squealed in joy.

Sticking to her promise, she only changed into some casual clothes and took you to a small restaurant down the street. Although you protested, Sooyoung ordered all of your favorite plates and paid for all of it in the end. Of course, the dinner mainly happened because of selfish reasons, but she still wanted you to be completely relaxed and get a clear head again. Therefore, she banned any conversation about your assignment and just tried to create a pleasant evening for the two of you.

As soon as you returned to the apartment though, Sooyoung also stuck to her second promise. She let you go back to work and helped you as best as possible. Now, however, she didn’t mind anymore. She was able to spend some quality time with you. That was all that mattered.

Yeri

Yeri looked at you worriedly. You had been assigned to write a paper with a group, but your partners weren’t reliable, so you had to do all of the work on your own. But a lot of things hadn’t gone as planned and now the deadline was rushing closer at a rapid pace and you weren’t even halfway done with the paper. You had lost sleep because of it and Yeri hated to see you like this. You rushed from your classes to work and as soon as you came home, you started writing. She felt helpless. She wished, she could help you, but she didn’t go to college herself and had no idea what the paper was even about.

Like every day in the past weeks, you were sitting on her bed while typing away on your laptop and Yeri watched you with her heart feeling heavy. You stretched your neck and twisted your face in pain. There needed to be something, she could do.

“Babe...”

She said softly while rising from her seat and walking over to you. Your tired eyes snapped up from the screen and followed her.

“Don’t you think it’s time for a break?”

You instantly shook your head.

“No, I’m still running behind in my schedule.”

“How about you make a new schedule? I still have to prepare some stuff for Yeri Bang. We could work together and every two hours or so we take a break and do something to treat ourselves?”

Yeri proposed and sat down in front of you. You looked at her skeptically, but when she put one of your hands up and kissed your knuckles softly while giving you puppy dog eyes, you sighed in defeat.

“Fine, I guess overworking myself won’t be of any use either.”

You gave in, causing Yeri to tackle you into a hug.

“You’ll be done in no time.”

She smiled before climbing off you and giving you space to work again.

For an hour, you kept working on your paper while Yeri went through the script of the next episode of her reality show. Then, however, the timer that she had set, went off and she leaped to her feet.

“Time’s up! I think, it’s time for ice cream now!”

Yeri grinned and your face actually lit up, causing her to be even happier.

Uncomplainingly you followed her into the kitchen, where she started to fetch all the ingredients.

“Welcome to Yeri’s kitchen! The actual happiest place on earth where all your dreams come true!”

She exclaimed exaggeratedly cheerful, causing you to laugh.

You watched her as she prepared a huge sundae for the two of you with strawberries, whipped cream, cookies and chocolate sauce.

“Easy! Don’t you think that’s enough chocolate?”

Your eyes widened when you saw that Yeri didn’t stop drizzling sauce over the ice cream until it looked like a chocolate fountain.

“You need some serotonin, baby.”

She winked, causing you to shake your head in disbelief.

Together you cuddled up on the couch and devoured the ice cream while forgetting all about the work that both of you needed to do.

“And what will we eat during the next break?”

You asked eventually with a grin and Yeri was quick to answer.

“Pizza!”

She yelled, but you looked at her critically.

“Only if I can choose the toppings. I’m scared of what you will choose.”

You motioned to the sundae and Yeri smirked mischievously.

She wouldn’t leave anything untried to lift your mood.

#red velvet reactions #red velvet #irene #seulgi #wendy #joy #yeri #girl group reactions #girl group #girl group imagines #kpop reactions #kpop

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