#like it was so abrupt for me. like she hadn’t been like worse than usual. just like two months prier she got the okay from a hospital

[daydreaming-in-letters]

In a week

Chapter 4

07/23/2022

Pairing: Andrew (Hozier) x Clara (OFC)

Word Count: 2,346

Warnings: rpf, au, language, angst, talk of infidelity, idiots in love

Summary: The morning after her tiny breakdown, Clara gives Andrew quite the scare and he finally realises what she has come to mean to him.

A/N: The magic of watching Andrew in this. How could I not...

Picture by Autumn Studio via Unsplash (cropped and text added)

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

Hozier - Sunlight

Andrew’s notebook I’m such a fecking eejit. Why can I not keep my bloody mouth shut just once? She must think I’m a humungous hypocrite, or, even worse, doesn’t have the slightest clue everything that’s left of me after the wreckage of the past days is entirely hers. 

The sweet taste of her lips and tongue still fresh on my own has rendered my brain completely inoperative. Void of words, me, who usually sings of love in a million different ways so easily, has at last been muted, my whole being in awe of a kiss that turned this heretic into a pious devotee. And so I lie here, my faith restored, yet I’m unable to practise it, staring up into the starlit night in the preposterous hope of sunlight.

In the wake of the morning, when I still mused about the events of last night, my heart floating in restorative unconsciousness, I could never have foreseen the abrupt awakening that was about to stir its strings before the sun even dreamed about reaching its zenith. And so I went about my morning as usual, ending with a cup of tea and my guitar in the expansive shade of the parasol right next to the pool. 

My head filled with ideas after last night’s conversation, I was intent on writing a new song, something about perilous love maybe. Images of Icarus flying too close to the sun came to mind, a metaphor too powerful in its imagery not to use. And just when I thought my train of thought might actually get me somewhere, my ears picked up the soft tapping of bare feet on the wooden deck. She was probably heading out for her morning walk. In a moment she would wish me a good morning before she would head to the far end of the property and take the narrow path through the dunes that led straight to the beach.  I may have flinched a little, I don’t remember clearly anymore, my attention fully occupied by the warm fingertips that found my shoulder, gently gliding along my neck all the way to the other side. She didn’t need to say a single word to derail my concentration, her touch was all it took to abandon my muse like an unwanted kitten and focus solely on her presence. 

But I had been wrong. She wouldn’t go for a walk today, that much was clear when she came into view, her lush curves only covered by that cobalt bikini and a flimsy robe which actually revealed more than it hid. She didn’t have a single word for me, much less did she spare me a look, her whole attention solely focussed on the water that glistened invitingly in the morning sun. I must have stopped maltreating those strings at some point, probably the second her robe hit the deck boards and my last bit of sense was gone with the wind.

I had seen her in nothing but her bikini every day since we came here, so why did it get to me the way it did? Was it the faint bronze her skin had taken on? Or the golden shimmer of her hair in the sunlight? Was it the way she carried herself today? Like a goddess inside her temple, about to descend into her bath to cleanse herself from the earthly sorrows her worshippers troubled her with and that still stuck to her skin like scum.

But she didn’t leave me much time to figure out what had caused that beckoning lure before she vanished underneath the surface, a few ripples and popping bubbles the only proof that she had actually been there in the first place. I couldn’t see her from where I was seated, a fact that wouldn’t have bothered me at all if the bubbles hadn’t stopped rising to the surface ages ago. 

“Clara?” I shouted like the gobshite I am as I rose to my feet. I did not actually expect to get an answer, did I? And there probably wasn’t anything to worry about anyway, right? Every second now her head would break through the surface, her pretty mouth gasping for air and then sporting one of that amused smiles upon seeing my concerned face. Right? RIGHT?

My body acted quicker than my mind could catch up, dumping my guitar and rushing over to the edge of the pool. I could see her clearly, lying at the bottom, eyes closed, no motion, no bubbles, no signs of life whatsoever. And I just jumped.

The pool wasn’t very deep, the water reaching up to just around my chest, but the way down to the ground felt like an eternity. My pulse hammering in my ears, one arm wrapped around her waist, and my feet pushed down onto the tiles with all their might to catapult us both back to safety. Memories of every first aid course I had ever taken racing through my head, spinning into an incomprehensible jumble of instructions, panic was all I felt when I realised I couldn’t recall a single piece of information on CPR at all. She was going to die. I would lose her. I couldn’t lose her.

Wild coughing greeted me as soon as we had escaped the lethal claws of water, determined fingers digging into my shoulders while she shook and trembled in my arms. I couldn’t see a thing, my hair plastered all over my face, but on instinct I tightened my grip while I cleared my sight. Obviously, my frenzied brain still hadn’t managed to comprehend that she was very much not dead until I opened my eyes and was met with a look of unadulterated fury. She…she was…alive? What the…? How could she scare me like that? I thought she was… Bloody woman.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I shouted right into her face and it was only when she seized her resistance that I grasped she had resisted my hold on her in the first place.

"Wh—? Me? That’s funny,” she spat, her voice just as agitated as my own. “I thought it was you who jumped in here and hauled me from the bottom of the pool like a maniac.”

“Because you were going to kill yourself!” 

For a second there I regretted my tone, but it finally seemed to have done the trick. Clara fell silent, at least for a moment, and for the first time since she had vanished into this godforsaken water, I could hear my own thoughts again. She wasn’t lost for words for long though.

“What? And why on earth would I do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know? Because you almost cried yourself to sleep in my arms last night, thinking you would never find true love?”

She jerked upon that crude attack, her palms pressing against my chest on instinct, but I refused to let go of her after just getting her back.

“That was one moment of weakness!”

“So? That doesn’t make your despair any less serious.”

“I don’t say I wasn’t deeply distraught in that moment. But I would never— And certainly not because that arsehole managed to make me feel like a worthless piece of shit.”

Was that how she truly felt about herself, what his ill treatment had done to her? In that moment I hated Chad more than I could ever hate him for riding my…for riding Catherine.

“Clara, you’re not—“

“I know.” She averted her gaze, her voice falling to a mere whisper. “But the night sometimes gives way to the demons.”

I forced myself to smile, not because I thought her words were funny in any way. They weren’t, not at all. But because I hoped she would look up and it would be enough to convince her that she wasn’t at all what Chad had made her believe she was. But she didn’t.

“Anyways, if you didn’t want to kill yourself, then what the hell were you doing down there?”

I had hoped that might distract her, and it sure did. Just not exactly the way I had planned, that much was clear as the defensiveness returned to her eyes almost instantly.

“I…that’s none of your business,” she spat.

Only this time, I didn’t rise to her anger. After all, it hadn’t gotten us anywhere the first time round. Instead my fingers found her cheek, thumb brushing along that divine cheekbone of hers.

“You know, I think it kind of is, seeing that you almost gave me a heart attack with your wee stunt.”

I could see that she was about to tell me, but something made her hesitate and avert her eyes again. I let her, and after a moment a deep sigh announced that she was ready to share her thoughts with me.

“I need that sometimes. Being underwater, I mean. Drowning out the world around me and feel nothing but the rays of sunshine dancing across my face. Helps me to stay sane.”

I knew that feeling only too well. That’s what music usually did for me. Soothe my mind, like the warmth of her eyes did now. The warmth of her eyes and body that was still pressed to mine, moulding to my form smoothly now that she wasn’t fighting my hold on her anymore. There was such pure energy surging from her, flowing freely to me, possessing me until I yielded and let myself reel in the life she radiated. 

“Fuck, honey, you really scared me there for a moment.“

It was only later that I realised part of me was actually a little dejected that I didn’t really rescue her. Not because I wished her any harm, oh god no. My heart still stops for a second whenever the image of her lifeless body on the ground of that pool returns to me. No, I just wish I would have had a chance to rescue her in order to repay her for the way she rescued me. It was true that I had never felt more alone than in the past few days, but she had been with me in my loneliness. And that had made all the difference. And even in my loneliest moments, I had never known peace of mind like I did here, at the beach house, with her. 

It was in this fleeting moment of clarity I finally realised everything she had come to mean to me. I had been such an eejit, hiding myself away in the darkness of night, shunning the light, denying that her blinding brightness was everything I had ever wanted. I had been drawn to her from our first drunk encounter months ago, like a moth to a flame. And everything had led me right here, had led up to this one moment inevitably, the moment I carried the very flame that thawed my frozen soul right here in my arms. And I vowed to myself I would keep her close, no matter the burn I might suffer eventually, if she just kept on shining for me, just for me. 

Needy fingers dug into her soft flesh, reassuring myself once more that she was truly here, that I hadn’t lost her, when suddenly her eyes flickered with regret.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

My voice was but a mere whisper as I already leaned in, my eyes falling shut the second my lips found hers. With the sweet taste of her mouth memories resurfaced, and my heart began to soar on the wings of life she breathed into me. She had always known how to do that, how to revive my spirits and make my soul hum in tune with the melody of her own. It was addictive and I needed more.

I could have stayed like this forever, but all too soon she pulled away and my heart fell into my feet as I realised the look of utter confusion in her eyes. I couldn’t blame her. How could she not be confused after all the mixed signals I had been sending her these past few days? My first instinct was to apologise and tell her I hadn’t meant to kiss her, but the truth is, I’d had every intention of kissing her and I wasn’t sorry in the least. After last night, I wouldn’t let my tongue get the better of me, not this time. I had learned my lesson and I would never lie to her again. So I kept my big mouth shut. And boy was I glad I did.

I could see it well up in her eyes again, the same passion that had set me alight on that cold March night, and then she pulled me close again. Her arms snaked around my neck, holding on to me for dear life, but that didn’t seem enough and so her legs followed, locking around my hips while her lips crashed down on mine again. A heated, impassioned moan broke from deep within. I was afire, burning brightly in her flames and it was all I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

“Andrew?” she gasped at my lips and it took me a while to process that she had put a question mark at the end of my name.

“Yeah?”

My eyes were still closed, refusing to leave the heavenly place her kiss had taken me to just yet. It was only when I felt the weight of her head against my shoulder, her shallow breaths drifting over my neck that I knew it was time to return to the real world. 

“Would you mind just holding me for a while?”

The neediness in her voice brought a tender smile to my lips, just as much as the wariness it carried made my heart heavy. How could she ever think I’d deny her a wish like that? Without even a second of hesitation, my arms wrapped her up in a snug embrace, one hand tenderly cradling her head.

“Not at all, love. Not at all.”

Chapter 5

#hozier x reader #hozier x ofc #hozier fanfiction #hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier fic #hozier fanfic #hozier imagine #in a week

[camscendants]

Love and miss you mom ♥️

#it’s been 3 and a half years #my best friend #if there was a day I could re do it would be the day before she passed #there’s so many things I wish I could have done differently #it wasn’t the first time an ambulance came to take her to the hospital and it wasn’t the first time she was dazed #she’d been sick my whole life #so I didn’t think much of it. #and it was the One time I didn’t stay with her till the ambulance took her. it was the one time I didn’t stand outside and wait for them to #leave. it was the one time I didn’t go visit her that same night. it was the one time I didn’t say Bye or I love you #and it was the last time #like it was so abrupt for me. like she hadn’t been like worse than usual. just like two months prier she got the okay from a hospital #I think she had a doctors appointment and she pushed it off and died before she went. I think she would’ve made it if she didn’t push it bac #I mean I went into December with her how she usually was and on the 11th I was at her funeral #I remember the night before my dad and brother getting back and saying she really didn’t look good. and I had the brief thought that night #of “what if’ and I just pushed it away saying that it wouldn’t happen. #I only had twelve years with her. we always planned for more. we would talk about my sweet sixteen. me going to college. her being at my #wedding. it’s nearly my 16th birthday and she’s not here. I don’t even think I wanna go to college anymore. and she won’t be able to attend #my wedding. but I do still have all the memories with her. going to a nice hotel as a little‘vacation’ when I graduated 5th grade. #going out late at night to eat and being in an outback parking lot singing songs while I sat on top of the car just the two of us. #is sneaking out into the kitchen in the middle of the night to ‘boxtroll’ for snacks since we were both night owls. #singing on the edge of her bed singing. going to the mall and staying till it closed. cooking in the kitchen and singing. listening to her #stories about her childhood and funny moments in college. and that one time she got drunk and thought her nose fell off. #I love her #happy Mother’s Day #moms #mom #drawing #art #Mother’s Day #my drawing

[rickmandowneyjr]

Cuts to Cope

Angst, fluff Pairing: Severus Snape and Student!Reader (platonic) Warning: talk of self-harm, mentions of character's death Word Count: 2348 A/N: This is a little piece I wrote a while ago but didn't know if I should post or not. After re-doing certain bits, I decided to upload it. Hope it's not too difficult to read. As always, the ending is a little abrupt and not too detailed, leaving it sort of up to y'all as well :) Sorry if there are any typos (I only ever get the time to write when it's quite late nowadays)

Yet another day at Hogwarts - waking up at 6:30 am, showering, getting dressed in your robes, and heading to breakfast. Wishing everyone you passed a good morning, wearing your signature smile as you did.

You were a 7th year, one of the few returning ones after last year's incident with Cedric Diggory. He'd been your best friend, or at least that's what people thought. Cedric Diggory and you had been dating for the last 7 months before his death. You didn't want anyone knowing because being star students meant eyes prying into every aspect of your relationship.

People praised you, a model student and now, prefect, who set an example. An example of how to be strong and cope no matter what life threw at you. Little did they know, you harboured a little secret. A dark, horrifying, and disturbing secret that would never let anyone look at you the same way if they ever found out.

Your first class for the day was Potions. You were a brilliant student, especially at Potions, yet Snape still had something against you. You didn't take it personally, though; he wasn't really fond of anyone. You walked into class, taking your regular seat at the front. Snape walked into class a little while later, slamming the door behind him, commanding everyone's attention.

"Turn to page 420," he drawled. You opened the book to find the recipe for Amortentia. Your heart felt a tug at the name of the love potion, never having been able to find out the answers with Cedric.

Snape's deep voice brought your focus back to class as he said, "Since it takes a week to brew, I've already completed most of the process. All you need to do is the last day's work," making the class sigh with relief. "However," he continued, "The last day of brewing is crucial and not easy. So, I expect your attention to be fully on the task at hand."

You began brewing the potion, following the steps perfectly. Snape sat down to grade papers as the class worked. He looked at you and said, "Ms. [L/N], roll up your sleeves while you work. I'd hate for there to be mishaps in my class because of one student's carelessness."

You hesitated, but then did as asked. You weren't the best at wandless magic but had made sure to perfect this spell solely for such instances. As you rolled your sleeves, you subtly waved your hand over your forearms, mumbling, "Illusiont," and casting the disillusionment charm.

You saw Snape narrow his eyes at you and panicked for a second before you saw him shake his head and return to grading. Breathing a sigh of relief, you returned to the task at hand and continued brewing.

After a while, you'd finished, and were the first one to have done so. Snape walked over to your desk and took a whiff of the potion, raising an eyebrow before giving you a single nod of approval, letting you know that it was perfect. Once everyone was done, he walked around, starting at the back, and asked everyone to announce what they smelled. You hadn't smelled your Amortentia yet and hadn't planned on doing so either, feeling quite relieved when Snape hadn't asked that question earlier.

Your heart rate quickened as you began to worry about how your body and mind would react to smelling it. You couldn't do it last year, since the Triwizard tournament had led to a bunch of classes being cancelled. As you thought about how excited you had been at the prospect of sharing the experience with Cedric, Snape's voice pulled you back to your potions class.

"Ms. [L/N]."

"Yes, sir?"

He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "What. Do. You. Smell," he spoke, irritation evident in every word.

You swallowed hard as you leaned forward to inhale the scent. Your pupils dilated, your heartbeat quickened and your knees threatened to give out at the all-too-familiar fragrance. Your throat went dry as you stopped the tears from forming.

"Well? We haven't got all day, class is to be dismissed soon." He raised an eyebrow at you, asking you to hurry up since you were the last one.

With every ounce of energy, you calmed yourself and stopped your voice from wavering. "Old books, butterscotch and... vanilla," you sighed. Your breathing was erratic and you knew you needed to get out of class and get to the abandoned girls' washroom.

As if on cue, the bell rang, dismissing the class. Snape gave you an odd look and was about to ask you what was wrong but you had already gathered your belongings and were marching out the door. He decided to follow you since he'd never seen you act like that before and was wondering what had happened to you all of a sudden.

You made your way up the stairs, hurrying before you had a breakdown in the middle of the hallway. As you reached the washroom, you started rummaging through your bag since the hallway was empty. You took the small blade that you carried around out, pushing the door to the bathroom open.

Snape's POV

I followed her out of the classroom. Though not my favourite, [Y/N] was an incredible witch and this wasn't normal behaviour for her. She'd marched out before I had even dismissed class which concerned me even more, given her usually 'perfect' behaviour. She paced through the hallways and up the stairs so fast that I could've sworn she was moving around faster than I did on a normal basis. There was an urgency in her stride and I don't know why, but it concerned me.

She finally turned into the hallway leading to the girls' washroom on the third floor, which was odd. No one used this, as far as I was aware. I was a little embarrassed, considering I'd just followed a young girl to a washroom. In an isolated area, at that. I swear I never would've imagined myself going even further and following her in, but what I'd seen had shocked and concerned me enough to do just that.

End of Snape's POV

As you entered the bathroom, you had missed Snape, whose eyes were wide with shock. He couldn't believe what he'd seen. [Y/N] [L/N], the golden girl of Hogwarts, had just walked into an abandoned washroom after pulling out a blade from her bag. Not wanting to jump to any conclusions, he rushed in, wanting to confirm what his eyes had just seen.

As you were about to enter a stall, the door to the bathroom, swung open, making you jump. You hid the blade by making a fist, unintentionally cutting into your palm. You winced at the unexpected pain but didn't let it show.

You turned to face Professor Snape, and he was eyeing your hand. 'There's no way he saw it, is there?' you thought.

"Ms. [L/N], care to show me your hands?"

You panicked. He knew. You tried to divert his attention. "Sir, this is the girls' washroom."

"I'm aware," he stated. "Now... Hands," he said as he glared at you, letting you know that he wouldn't fall for any attempts to change the subject.

You sighed and opened your hands, and saw his gaze soften. He walked to you taking your hand in his as he gently pulled the razor out. You winced as it came out, knowing this would impair you for the rest of your classes.

"What were you thinking?!" He scolded, startling you. He reached for your arm, rolling up your sleeves once again and muttered, "Finite."

The scars on your arms started showing up and you couldn't do anything but look away, your eyes resting anywhere but his gaze.

"So that was the Disillusionment Charm I heard you use, earlier."

You stayed silent, still refusing to meet his eyes. Of all the professors, it had to be him. Sure, he wasn't fond of you, but you had immense respect for the man, and to let him see you in this light... it took every bit of you to not lose your composure.

"Look at me," he said.

You turned to face him. His usually cold eyes showed too much concern and the uncharacteristic response from the potions master was proving to be a lot to handle. Tears stung your eyes as he stared at you.

"Why?" He asked, his voice so genuine that you couldn't help but let your emotions spill, creating a mess that you couldn't be bothered to care about anymore.

"I can't do this anymore," you sniffled. "I don't want to. He was everything to me and it just hurts so much."

"Who?"

"Cedric."

"Ah, yes. I'm aware you and Mr. Diggory were best friends. I'm sorry, [Y/N]."

"No," you said, finally being able to talk to someone about it. "He was my boyfriend. And... I never got to tell him I loved him... because I wasn't sure. Today just made it worse when I smelled him in my Amortentia. It confirmed that I did and I never got to say it." You were sobbing now, not caring what you looked like, what a mess you probably were, or what Snape was thinking of you and your confession.

You felt him awkwardly wrap his arms around you as he pulled your head to his chest. Your cries got louder and your wails of agony echoed in the empty washroom as your hands clutched the fabric of his robes. The feeling of someone comforting you was overwhelming. You'd always had to keep up this image of a perfect student, reliable friend, someone who could never have such horrifying tendencies.

Even then, as you cried out loud, your instinct made you bury your face in his chest, muffling the 'ugly' sobs. Snape's heart broke as your thoughts flooded his mind. As you struggled to breathe, he turned your head slightly, making you audible again. He didn't hush you; just stroked your hair as your tears soaked his robes.

It took a while, but you finally calmed down, your sobs reducing to soft whimpers before they died out entirely. Your throat was sore, and lips, chapped from all the crying. Your eyes were red and puffy, and the reality of the situation finally came crashing down on you.

Your secret was out. More than one, at that. One of the professors knew, and the strictest one too. You had just spent Merlin knows how long crying into his chest, which was now soaked with your tears.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, your voice, hoarse. "Your robes are all wet now," you said, trying to move away.

"That's the least of my worries right now," he said, keeping your head in place as he continued, "I understand what you're going through. Better than you'd know." It sounded like it was painful for him to talk about it, the tone of his voice giving the vulnerability away. "But this is not the way to deal with it," he said as rubbed your back.

"Does it go away?"

"I'll be honest," he sighed. "It does get lesser with time if you allow yourself to heal. However, it never goes away entirely. A part of you will always love and miss him. I'm sorry," he said.

"No, I'm glad. I don't want to forget him. Or my love for him. Cedric Diggory was and will always be - my first love."

You finally pulled away from his chest and looked him in the eyes as he gave you a gentle smile. You managed to muster a somber one and sighed.

"Do any of your friends know?"

"Merlin, no!"

"Why not? They're your friends. They could-"

"I can't have this getting out. Everyone will-"

"Who cares what people think?" He raised his voice. It was silent for a while before he sighed and spoke again.

"[Y/N], I want you to promise me something."

You knew what was coming. You gulped and nodded softly.

"I want you to promise me that you'll stop this. Cedric wouldn't want this for you."

"I know, and I've tried before. It's not that simple-"

"I know," he said, cutting you off. "Which is why, the next time you get the urge to do this, you'll come to me. No matter what the situation might be."

You were surprised at his words. It was incredibly nice of him to offer this to you, and you nodded, accepting his generosity.

"Also," he continued, "Please stop going to such great lengths to please others and worrying about what others think. It's not healthy."

"But-"

"But nothing. Your health is suffering and you can't even bring yourself to tell anyone because you're so busy keeping up this little charade of 'everything is fine'."

You stayed silent. There was truth in his words and you couldn't refute his accusations. You just looked up at him, once again, finding the uncharacteristic concerned look meeting your gaze. Nodding softly, you agreed. How could you not when someone had shown you such consideration and compassion?

A small smile graced his usually stoic face as he helped you up, and you both made your way out of the bathroom. He escorted you back to your dormitories, ensuring you were alright before the two of you parted ways.

The rest of the school year passed and Snape stayed true to his word, and you to yours. Every time you felt the urge to hurt yourself to relieve the pain, you'd find Snape. He was patient and helped you every step of the way. Slowly, but surely, you were able to overcome your urges and also found yourself living for yourself, rather than up to others' expectations.

By the time you graduated, you had overcome the habit and thanked Snape in your graduation speech, never giving away the details as to why. A lot of people had assumed there was something between the two of you, especially since you went to meet him all through the school year, but you didn't let it bother you, because... Who cares what people think, right?

-

P.S. - Sorry I've been a little slow with the writing. My college assignments have started rolling in and I'm currently swamped. Also, I'm working on a little something (announcing it in 2-3 days so make sure to check in lol). Rest assured, I'm slowly and steadily making my way through requests. Thank you for understanding <3

#severus snape #severus #snape #severus snape x reader #severus snape and reader #severus x reader #snape x reader #pro snape #snapedom #severus snape fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #hp #hp fanfiction #snape fic #alan rickman #alan #rickman #alan rickman x reader #rickmaniac #angst with a happy ending #angst with a hopeful ending #rickmandowneyjr

[dearestones]

Silent Treatment (AE-3803 Scenario)

Warnings: Slight fluff, slight angst.

Anonymous Request: CAW: 3803 for once is the embarrassed one who's acting stubborn beyond words and won't admit she's wrong. With a twisted ankle she ignored 1146's earlier advice to giver her delivery to another and finished her job with stubbornness unmatched except for the severe pain she's now in. Now she's been discovered by a rather quietly miffed 1146 who refuses to talk to her or put her down as he carries her in his arms the long way home for all the world to see. She thinks he must be punishing her.

.

.

.

“Umm, Mr. Neutrophil?”

No response.

“Mr. Neutrophil?”

This time, AE-3803 manages to get a response. Unfortunately, it’s not the one she’s looking for.

U-1146 grunts, readjusts his hold on 3803, and keeps walking.

The redheaded blood cell took a deep breath, steeling herself. “Mr. Neutrophil, I’m fine. Honest!”

This time, that actually garnered a reaction. Grinding to an abrupt parade halt (which mildly jostled the erythrocyte in his grasp), 1146 glanced down, an unreadable look in his eyes. For a moment, 3803 feared that he was going to drop her—or worse, look even more disappointed—but she need not fear. He only held her gaze for an impossibly long time before taking off in the same brisk pace he had started off with.

Miffed and mortified beyond words, 3803 couldn’t believe that she was given the cold shoulder, the silent treatment from her friend! How could this be possible? Usually, 1146 was the sort of cell who would not stop fretting until his charge was either shipped off to an infirmary or swaddled in the kind arms of macrophages.

Although, 3803 began to think guiltily, she had been pushing him to his limits this time.

To be fair, she only sprained her ankle by just a little bit and the next delivery was only two micrometers away! How was she supposed to get her deliveries done if she relied on another red blood cell to do her work for her? Not only would it be embarrassing, but it would also paint the picture that she was still the frightened erythroblast in the bone marrow.

And now, because of her hubris, she was being carried to the nearest infirmary like she hadn’t matured at all! Normally, she wouldn’t have minded the assist, but there were onlookers from every direction, which prompted the red blood cell to pull the brim of her beret over her eyes.

It was unfair.

But, she supposed, it was also unfair of her to push 1146 away even though he knew what was best in that situation.

It rankled at her insides, but she knew that despite how overbearing his behavior was at times, he meant well. After all, childish behavior aside, she knew what the consequences would be—she just chose to ignore it in favor of trying to prove something to her past self. Now, because of her rash decisions, the body was down an able bodied red blood cell and she wouldn’t be able to fulfill her quota. Someone else would have to pick up her work.

And that humbled AE-3803.

With great reluctance, but with a determination that she often carried in her day to day duties, the young red blood cell raised her head and tried to make eye contact with the white blood cell. Despite his avoidance in meeting her gaze, she knew that he was listening.

“Okay… I’m sorry.” She swallowed past the lump that had spontaneously appeared in the back of her throat. “It was foolish of me to continue running even though I was injured. I just… I just wanted to do my job.”

Her voice broke at that last part and this time, when 1146 stopped, he didn’t jostle her. A bit startled at the loss in movement 3803 gaped up at her friend until his eyes and lips softened into the semblance of the cell she had befriended so long ago.

“You’re more than just your job, Miss Red Blood Cell. Remember that.”

And maybe it was the simplicity of his words or the fact that he meant each one of them that had her choking up. As a cell, her duty was her life. What was she without the efficiency and capability that characterized every cell in the body?

And yet…

1146 made it seem as if she mattered more than that.

And that felt good.

“Does this mean—”

“I’m still carrying you to the infirmary.”

“Fair enough.”

.

.

.

If you want to donate a Ko-Fi, feel free https://ko-fi.com/devintrinidad.

HATARAKU SAIBOU (CELLS AT WORK) MASTERLIST

#cells at work #hataraku saibou #caw #ae-3803 #ae3803 #3803 #u-1146 #1146 #u1146 #WBC x rbc #ae-3803 x u-1146 #dearestones #devintrinidad

[glowingbadger]

Hi it’s me, crawling through the window. Would it be possible to get a crumb of arranged marriage w/ Hubert? His line w/ Dorothea about being willing to get married for politics sake has fueled my brain rot for him.

Good God I need to secure my windows-

I mean HELLO FRIEND ANON YES IT WOULD BE MY PLEASURE

Lol actually though, I have been thinking about this for Hubie since we all started chatting about that arranged marriage stuff! I think it's a perfect concept for him~

This like... got weird while I was writing it though?? Idk man hahaha it ended up on the less-spicy side of what I usually write, and with some very weird dialogue in places... Idk, I hope y'all like it. Maybe if there's interest, I'll follow this up eventually with a more smut-focused piece?

I've been traveling and working so much lately that I just don't even know what writing is anymore or how it works hahaha

TW: A brief mention of non-con

Hubert (FE3H) x Reader ("wife," neutral pronouns)

Arranged Marriage - semi spicy i guess?

"Frankly, he's a pain," Linhardt must be able to see your surprise and confusion written across your face. He goes on, "He's reliable and capable, of course, but also the most persistent nag you'll ever meet. Actually, no-" he glances upward as though to cross reference his own thoughts, "No, her Majesty is worse. But Hubert is a close second to be sure. Always on and on about sleep schedules and proper nutrition and etiquette..." He sighs and closes the massive tome on his lap, as though to close the conversation with it, "frankly, he's an insufferable mother hen. Does that help?"

"Well, it's... Not what I expected," you admit with a shrug, "but thank you all the same."

~

It's been several weeks since the papers binding you in marriage to Hubert Von Vestra had been signed- and this alone had sufficed. No ceremony, no grand ball, just paperwork and a handshake with your father. A handshake that ensured that, even under the Empire's unification, he would maintain nominal control over his considerable portion of land, and in return, would swear absolute loyalty to her Majesty. It was a beneficial arrangement for all parties, and you were not ignorant to the part you played. You were hardly even a bargaining chip- moreso, a hostage.

Your new husband had made no secret of what manner of harm may befall you if your family were to renege on their deal. Fortunately, you know your father to be a reliable coward, so you have no reason to believe he would be bold enough to step out of line.

Hubert Von Vestra is a terrifying man. A zealously loyal man of storied cruelty and a frigid disposition. His frame looms over you whenever he's near, and though he's hardly placed a finger on you since you'd been given over to him, his mere presence is... arresting. There's a sort of charisma to him that's equal parts frightening and fascinating. Perhaps it's madness brought on by your circumstances, but you can't help wanting to glimpse just the slightest bit into that brilliant, ever churning mind.

Unsurprisingly, he has been resistant to your attempts to understand him. He hardly indulges you in small talk, and if you were the paranoid sort, you'd think he intentionally makes himself busy when you're around. Eventually, perhaps out of sheer stubbornness, you'd settled on a routine of bringing coffee to his study adjoined to your bedroom in the evenings. He'd been visibly surprised the first time. It wasn't until the fourth night that he'd given a curt "thank you." About two weeks in, he'd actually sat back in his chair and laid down his quill pen to receive the cup from your hands. After a month, he'd leveled his narrow gaze at you and said,

"I cannot begin to fathom what satisfaction you glean from playing 'maid' to me."

"Well, I, uhm," you hadn't expected him to address you so directly, but you managed to say, "You... work so hard, I wanted to do something for you, I suppose."

His expression is inscrutable as he replies,

"You are aware that my work was much the same before you arrived."

"I am," you say softly, "But- all the same..." you trail off, and Hubert seems content to let the matter rest. And so you leave him be amidst his reports and correspondence, coffee at his side on the desk. Yet for as unproductive as your exchange might have seemed, it does leave you with an idea. The thought to learn about the man from those who knew him long before your arrival at the capitol.

~

Your investigation into the true character of your husband does not stop with Linhardt. In fact, his testimony only leaves you with further questions. But perhaps the others would say otherwise; perhaps the United Empire's most up and coming crest scholar simply inspires maternal behavior. This has to be the case- you simply can't imagine that the notoriously ruthless heir of the even more notorious Vestra lineage would be so... Doting.

And yet the more you learn of him, the more contradictory he seems.

Caspar's take is much like Linhardt's- a picture of a man far closer to a school marm than any assassin or master of torture. Ferdinand seems both smitten and incensed by him, oscillating wildly between the two. Then eventually, to your shock, Bernadetta takes the initiative to speak to you about Hubert of her own accord.

"I'm, uh, really so-sorry to bother you!" she approaches with arms drawn close to her chest and eyes resolutely avoiding yours, "I- I just heard that you were... asking about Hubert, so, I, uh..."

It takes some time to prompt her further. You assure her again and again- no, this isn't intrusive at all- yes, you'd very much like to hear her perspective- no, you're not mad at her. In truth, you're endlessly intrigued about what a gentle soul like Bernadetta would have to say about a man feared across the continent. Finally, she manages,

"He's... actually really kind!" she blurts out, as though the words would abandon her if she gave them the window of opportunity. Your eyebrows raise slightly.

"You think so..?"

"Yes, completely-!" she stammers, "I know he's super, super scary, and powerful and spooky and cold and, uh, all of that. But still," her voice falters as she continues, "He only scolds people when they do something dangerous. And he only hurts people to protect others. I... I know he's done some te-terrible things. But... he's always been nice to Bernie," finally, she meets your eyes with an imploring look in hers, "So, uh, I'm really grateful to him. And I think it would be really nice for someone to reach out to him. If... if that's not too weird or anything. For you."

You smile warmly and nod,

"Thank you, Bernadetta. I know it can't be easy for you to come to me with all of this, but... I'd like to try, if I can."

The opportunity doesn't come in the way you expect.

At first, it seems the night will proceed like many others before. You bring a cup of coffee to your husband's desk, setting it down quietly so as to not disturb him. He's silent, but this is common enough, so you head back to the bedroom to undress for the evening. All nights prior, he would lay beside you long after you'd settled in, then rise to resume work in the morning before you woke up- all the while never allowing your bodies to interact in any way.

Tonight, just as you're about to close the door to Hubert's study behind you, long fingers catch around your wrist, visibly startling you.

It's the most physical contact you've had to-date, but he only says,

"One moment."

You whip around to face him, a touch of anxiety evident in your eyes. It's clear in his own that he notices, but if anything, he only seems amused. He steps forward, his taller frame menacing you as he speaks,

"I understand that you have been busying yourself with some manner of investigation as of late."

It takes a moment for his meaning to reach you. When it does, your face burns and you can't bring yourself to meet his scrutinizing gaze,

"Oh, uhm..."

"I assure you, my dearest wife," he says with barely concealed venom, "anything that I do not wish for you to know will be kept from you. Aside from which, your efforts thus far have proven amateurish at best."

Something seems off about his tone. You could understand if he felt uncomfortable or hesitant about your efforts to learn about him, but this seems far more grave, more... business-like. He steps towards you once more, and you step back in turn. Yet before long, you feel your legs bump the edge of the bed. A gloved hand trails a fingertip down your jawline to your chin, then urges you to look up at him.

"Whatever you are planning, my dear, I promise it will be fruitless. You had best rethink how you spend your days before your actions bring you to harm."

"No, I-" your brow creases deeply, your face burns, your body burns hotter and you don't want to consider why, "I've just been trying to learn about you as a person, nothing else. We're- we're married, after all, so..."

He gives an abrupt, dry laugh.

"Ah, so I am to believe that you've been interrogating my allies out of some misguided affection, is that it?"

"Hubert, just listen to me!" for a moment, you feel bolstered, defiant, and you straighten your posture, "You won't tell me the first thing about you- the only way to learn so much as your favorite color is to ask someone who's known you for a decade!"

Briefly, he does seem to consider your words. But his eventual reply is as aloof as any prior,

"If you're no spy or politician, then you're worse- a fool." he says, and before you can respond, he's seized both of your wrists and pushed you back onto the bed. For a moment, the room spins and your voice leaves you. A shrewd eye watches you with cruel condescension as he pins you against the sheets.

"I should think that you'd be well aware what I'm capable of," he nearly whispers, "I personally ensured that the rumors spread through your father's territory and further still. Do you think that anyone would even dare lift a finger to help you if I chose to seek retribution for this recent behavior?" He draws nearer, his grip tighter at your wrists, "Perhaps as punishment, I'll simply take my pleasure from you by force."

Your lips tighten, you take a breath. Then, meeting his gaze directly, you reply,

"You won't."

His visible eye narrows.

"And what evidence do you have to prompt such unfounded confidence? Perhaps you have crafted a flattering falsehood of me in your mind," a mocking smirk curls his lips, "Am I a misunderstood sentimental sort to you, then? A sad, lonely man for you to save?"

You scowl, though you suspect it looks more like a pout to him.

"I don't know what I think of you yet- not completely. But I don't pity you like that, and I don't think you're sad or lonely. I know you're not."

For the first time, it seems that you've caught him off guard. That frigid mask falters for just a moment, and you go on before he can replace it,

"You're surrounded by people who care about you. I've seen it for myself. Whatever you've had to do in the service of your ideals- it hasn't kept the people around you from wanting to know and understand you, even if it's despite you."

Hubert is silent for a moment. His gaze bores into you like he thinks he'll discover some hidden layer if he can just keep digging. Then, he sighs,

"How did I ever become bound to such a troublesome spouse..."

When you wrest your arms from his grasp, his hands fall away with little resistance, and you think that perhaps he had never truly intended to keep you in place by force to begin with. He moves to leave the bed, but your fists find the front of his clothing and tug him back down to you.

You press your lips to his without hesitation, and you can feel him inhale sharply, his entire body rigid above you. His lips are surprisingly soft, his scent like coffee and old parchment, and though your heart threatens to burst from your chest, you hold firmly to him by his clothes. Near imperceptibly, he leans down against you, and your fear, along with any remaining doubts, begin to dissolve. Knowing he won't pull away, you let your hands relax against him, running up his chest where you can feel his own pulse pounding. It's so human, so entirely reasonable and normal. Now, at last, Hubert Von Vestra is merely a man of flesh and bone.

Your tongue meets his naturally, your lips parting in time with his as your kiss deepens to a fevered pace. One hand reaches that sharp, handsome jawline, reveling in the erotic sensation of his mouth moving against yours. And yet, all the while, his hands remain staunchly on the bed beside you. He doesn't touch you- doesn't even let his body meet yours.

It's impossible to tell whether passion or madness drives you to bring your teeth to his lower lip, a single insistent bite communicating desire mounting faster than you can contain. And for a moment, you sense something new; a sound catches in Hubert's throat, a reaction he fights to stifle. Then, he pulls away. His pale skin is tinted a rare shade of pink, and his hair is ruffled out of place enough to reveal both narrowed eyes. His cloak has spilled around his frame to surround you both, and somewhere in your frazzled mind, you imagine that you're caught in some beautiful, velvet-lined trap.

"I- must... return to my work." Hubert says stiffly. He pushes up from you and turns away, leaving you still flustered on the bed behind him. You sit upright, holding your arms tight around your body as you watch him straighten his hair and clothes.

"You, uhm..." your face reddens still as you search for the right words, "you could... join me in bed, if you liked."

Hubert turns to the door of his study, speaking without daring to even glance your way,

"Anything that you offer to me now will be born from the impulse to survive. I have been bargained with before." His shoulders slack just slightly, his voice low and sober, "The proudest nobleman will even sell off his own child to a monster if he feels it will spare him its teeth."

You open your mouth to protest, then shut it without a word. You feel that you know your mind and heart, even in this moment, but you lack the words to convince a man like this. In a feeble attempt, you murmur,

"You don't frighten me, Hubert. Not anymore."

He half turns toward you, though his hand remains on the handle of his study door.

"You yourself said that you do not know what you think of me," he says, "As such, I will not lay a hand on you until the day that you do."

You stare down at your hands in your lap, barely registering the sound of the door clicking shut as he leaves you in the bedroom. No matter how you try to sort out your tangled thoughts, the memory of his lips on yours won't leave them. If anything, it eclipses any sense of reason, standing resolutely in the way of your path to clarity. Letting out a groaning sigh, you fall onto your back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as if it could offer you any advice.

What do I think about my own husband? You wonder, the thought nearly enough to make you laugh. Well for one, he's a pain.

#hubert von vestra #hubert x reader #fire emblem #feh #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem imagines #fire emblem fic #x reader

[oscarseyebrow]

Here’s a prompt for you: 24 “Don’t mind if I do.”

Feel free to ignore this but I’m thinking AU Poe? Maybe something focusing on what his life would be like if he hadn’t joined the Resistanc? Thank you, love you 😘

gif by the wonderful @zoriis 💖

Rating: M Pairing: Poe Dameron x gn!reader Word count: 5k Warnings: Drinking, language, smoking. AN: Song lyrics taken (and changed) from Never Had. Masterlist | Taglist

The cantina is heaving by the time you finally arrive - late, as per usual. It really isn’t your fault. Whatever your friends may say -- if you ever make it to the table -- it’s not your fault. For every task you’d managed to wrap up at work, two more came across the desk for you and Maker, you really need to learn how to say no.

Leaving work late is the domino to topple the rest, which somehow sees you almost an hour late as you turn sideways, trying to squeeze between two groups of people. It’s so fucking busy and you don’t want to be here.

Come for drinks! They had said in the messages being exchanged throughout the day. There’s some live music on tonight. They’d then added. After the week you’ve had, the thought of drinks is a delight -- but not the live music. Not the packed cantina, full to the brim with people. You should have known it would be like this. Yet, here you are.

Everything is so warm and clammy in the dimly lit room; the heat from all the bodies mingling with very little space to dissipate between the walls and the low ceiling. It’s the kind of heat that wets your skin and causes clothes to stick to a thin covering of perspiration. You can already feel it as the smallest beads begin to build on your lower back beneath your layers. And you’re so desperate to reach the booth and relieve yourself of your jacket, but now you’re trapped. The fabric caught between the two bodies you’re attempting to squeeze between.

“Excuse me,” You tug and tug at your jacket, but to no avail. “Hey, can you… Just…” Another tug and you’re free; the abrupt release causing you to stumble backwards and straight into someone else. There’s a sudden yell that’s quickly followed by a wetness filling your boot and your jaw is already clenching as you glance down, seeing the empty glass rolling away and the contents of it now soaking through to your sock. Fucking great. Yes, please, allow this night to become so much worse than you could have ever foreseen.

Really, there are no words. You can’t blame this guy, you were the one to stumble into him and knock his drink out of his hand. But you still feel the unjustified rage bubbling in your stomach while you glare daggers at him. Without saying anything, you fix your jacket from where it has slipped down over your shoulder and then trudge the rest of the way to the booth; the trail of single wet footprints being left in your wake.

“You made it!” Zee, a friend from your previous place of work, is the first to spot you as she gets to her feet to throw her arms around your shoulders for a quick hug. “What took you so long?”

“Work.” You groan and give her one of those exasperated looks before moving to take a seat beside the others, but you’re quickly stopped by the hand of another friend, not allowing you to move any further.

“Last one in buys a round of drinks.” He grins up at you, clearly a few rounds deep already. In an attempt to keep your thoughts to yourself, you press your lips together in a tight line and look between all of the glasses on the table. They’ve barely been touched. “Hey, I don’t make the rules.” He then shrugs and leans back in his seat, looking all too smug with himself. If only he knew the tight thread your patience is hanging from right now, he wouldn’t be sitting there looking so smug. Finally, your eyes sweep back over to Zee and watch as she gives you a small, apologetic shrug.

Right.

With a heavy sigh, you turn on your heel and begin the struggle of pushing your way through to the bar; that unjustified rage bubbling away again with every shoulder and elbow that catches you as you weave between bodies. Finally, the bar is in sight, it’s only a few feet away and that’s when you stumble; hands quickly grasping for anything within reach to steady yourself as you gasp loudly. It’s a stomach turning moment, much like misjudging the last step in the dark. You lose your footing and know the floor is going to be greeting you real soon.

Thankfully, a hand catches hold of your arm to steady you and guide you forwards so that you can brace yourself against the wet bartop. When previously thinking if this night could get any worse, it hadn’t been a challenge to yourself. Yet, somehow, another domino topples over as you straighten up and turn to give your thanks to the stranger who saved you from the embarrassment of falling down. Your mouth opens but your words stall, not quite making it out as you meet the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen.

“I… Uh…” You stutter while drinking in the handsome face that’s still watching you with interest; eyebrows arching towards soft curls that have fallen free across his forehead from where his hair is swept back. Maker, he’s beautiful and all you can do is stare. “I…” You try again, but become very aware of the hand that is still holding your arm to keep you steady. A whole different kind of heat creeps across your skin now, adding to the warmth of the cantina while your eyes lower to the way his dark hair curls beneath his ear.

“Thanks.” You clear your throat, managing to force your unwilling words out. It starts as a hint at the corner of his lips, his mouth twitching ever so slightly while watching you before a smile finally curls over them. It’s a smile to light up a damn room. It’s vibrant and it radiates warmth as you watch the way his eyes crinkle, showing you how genuine this gesture is. Oh, you’re in trouble and your eyes are falling faster than you were only moments before. They come to land on luscious lips and that’s where they linger for maybe a second longer than they should -- they look so soft, so welcoming and they’re parting as he finally speaks.

“You doing okay?” Your saviour leans forwards a little as he asks that, allowing you to hear a voice that you swear drips actual honey. You should be embarrassed. But, you’re not. And for a fleeting moment, you find yourself smiling back at him, allowing him to captivate you and draw you in. It feels like the first genuine smile you’ve given since walking into this place, and you’re throwing it at a stranger you’ve just met.

“No.” You laugh, unable to help yourself. “I’m really not. I’ve been dragged here to see some shitty musician, I have someone’s drink swimming around inside of my boot and I have to buy a round of drinks because I’m late.” The man’s hand finally leaves your arm while he leans against the bar, keeping his body turned to yours now that you have seemingly caught his attention.

“Nice to meet you, Late. I’m Poe.” His hand extends towards you as he introduces himself and it takes you a moment for his awful joke to finally click. Oh. Stars. He’s witty as well as handsome. And as an automatic reaction, your hand reaches to take his, curious to know what his skin feels like as you shake it in greeting. Smooth, yet calloused. His palm holds a softness that his fingertips lack and you can’t help but wonder what his story is.

“That’s not-” You begin, as though considering correcting him and telling him your actual name, but you think better of it and simply shake your head with a small laugh. “You know what? Never mind.” Releasing his hand, you turn your attention to the bar and try to make eye contact with the server to let them know that you’re waiting. It’s so busy. You know this is going to take some time.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Poe doesn’t beat around the bush, does he? He’s straight in there, very forward with his offer while he continues to watch you long after your eyes have left him. But even as you stare at the coloured bottles behind the bar, you can still picture the jaw-line, covered with a few days worth of stubble which gives him a somewhat rugged look that counteracts the smoothness of his voice. And those lips. Full and perfectly even at the top and bottom. Your timing is all wrong as you finally glance back over at him and catch him licking at them after finishing his drink, waiting for your answer before ordering another.

You should go back to the booth. You’re here with friends, to see some live music and hopefully have some fun. But the longer you stand here, the more this offer seems much more appealing. They won’t miss you for one drink, will they? It can be quick. So you finally nod and force your eyes away from those lips, desperately trying to keep your face from showing everything you’re thinking right now.

“You can.” And so it’s decided. Tugging your jacket off, you’re hoping it helps with the heat and the way your hair is already beginning to stick to the nape of your neck, but it really doesn’t. It’s heavy and almost suffocating with all of the bodies packed inside of the cantina, yet, this man feels like a breath of fresh air. An attractive, bright, breath of fresh air and you’re desperate to breathe him in.

Poe makes a small motion with his hand on the bar and one of the servers walks down towards him, greeting him with a smile of familiarity. Interesting. This man appears to be known here, perhaps a regular - in any case, the two men know each other as they interact and Poe orders his drink first before turning to you so that you can do the same.

“Jet juice, please.” Poe watches you for a moment, silently storing that information to mind, or silently judging you from your drink choice, you’re not quite sure. But then his attention is gone and he slips the credits across the bar top to pay for the drinks. Even his profile is striking. You make yourself comfortable on the stool beside him while watching him, completely distracted from the chain of events that had brought you to this moment. It’s as though a domino in the line had fallen out of place, breaking the toppling effect to give you a break and as much as you don’t want to admit it, you find that you’re actually enjoying the evening now.

“So, why are you walking around with a drink in your boot?” Those dark eyes sweep back over to you again while Poe turns his head and after some consideration, his body turns, too. It’s now that you notice his shirt is open a button or two more than you’re expecting, revealing hints of a toned chest that’s covered in a light sheen under the lights. Maker, you can only imagine what his skin must feel like beneath your tongue. The warmth and the taste against the strong muscle while you drag it upwards along his throat -- no, stop. You need to stop. But you find that you can’t. Not now that your eyes follow the chain around his neck, right down to the ring that glints and glimmers against his chest.

Is he married? Was he married? You can only make up stories in your head about this stranger as you judge him based on what you can see.

“I bumped into someone…” You begin to explain.

“Do you do that often?” Poe’s response seems to bounce back instantly, the ball quickly falling into your court and keeping you on your toes in the most pleasant way.

“No, I got stuck. I mean, I got my jacket stuck. And then I stumbled and bumped into someone and…” You motion with your hands in an attempt to show him the way the liquid had fallen down your leg to fill your boot. His eyes practically sparkle as he presses his lips together in an attempt to keep himself from laughing at you.

“Don’t…” You warn him, despite a smile curling onto your lips again. “This is not a day to laugh at me, Poe.” There’s something that feels familiar in the way you speak his name, as though this isn’t the first time your mouth has formed the word. But, you can’t seem to place it. You’ve never met him before - That much you do know. You would remember someone this handsome.

“Is your sock wet?” The amusement drips from his voice now and he quickly glances back towards the bar as the two drinks are set down.

“Wet and sticky.” You laugh. Almost simultaneously, you reach for the glass at the same time as he does; your hand briefly grabbing his instead of the cold glass. The warmth is unexpected and not entirely unwelcome before you quickly snatch your arm back and throw an apologetic glance over at him. Somehow, you don’t think he seems to mind because he doesn’t flinch or try to pull back from the brief contact. Poe is still calm and collected as he pushes the glass towards you this time, helping you to avoid any further embarrassment. Why are you like this?

“Did you not think to take it off?”

“Take it off?” Your question doesn’t really answer his question as you take a sip of your drink and swallow down the bright liquid. It adds even more warmth to your body while it slides down your throat and seems to pool in your stomach, blazing a trail the whole way down. “I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.” You admit and then lick your lips to collect any lingering taste there.

That’s when you notice Poe’s eyes drop, almost in the exact same way yours had when mesmerized by his own lips. They seem to linger for a moment before he reminds himself to look back up to your eyes again, watching you with interest. You have his attention. And just to test that, you reach up to swipe your thumb against the corner of your lower lip -- his eyes instantly falling again to follow it. The initial attraction is no longer one-sided.

The sound of a glass smashing and cheering over the other side of the cantina breaks the moment as you both glance over, watching a group of friends laughing at a member of their group who had dropped a drink. Pity your boot wasn’t there to catch it. When you finally turn back to look at Poe again, he’s taking a couple of gulps from his drink; the muscles in his throat working with each swallow until he lowers his glass again. Look away. Look away. But all you can do is swallow thickly until he speaks again.

“Did you say you were here with friends?” That suave voice enters your thoughts and brings your attention to the present moment as Poe asks his next question, interested to learn more about you. He’s making easy conversation from the first thing you told him; your wet boot and the fact that you were here with friends to see some musician. Would you still rather be at home now?

“Yeah, they’re over…” You trail off as you sit up taller on the stool, attempting to look between heads and shoulders to spot your group in their booth. Eventually, you make eye contact with one of them and give them a small wave. “There.” Poe’s eyes follow yours to where more of them are looking now, pointing over at you and clearly having a discussion about the fact you're sitting at a bar with someone you’ve just met. You know, it’s not your usual style -- but there’s something about Poe that seems to draw you in after stumbling into his gravitational pull.

Poe also waves over to them and the look on Zee’s face is an absolute picture. You’ll fill her in about him later and how you ended up here.

“They look happy to be here.” He observes with amusement and he’s right. They really do. You’re not sure what they’re so excited about, but they’re practically buzzing as they talk amongst themselves while looking over at you again.

“They’re always happy to be here.”

“But you’d rather be at home?” Poe asks, as though he already knows your answer to that.

“Yes.” You tell him honestly and laugh again. “All day I’ve been thinking about drinking wine on my sofa and falling asleep.” Your truthfulness has him laughing this time and the sound is wonderful. It’s so rich and full of character as it rolls out from his chest, catching the attention of others around him. It’s a sound of happiness in its truest form; nothing forced, nothing fake - simply Poe enjoying the moment that he’s sharing with you.

“Yet, here you are.”

“Here I am.” You smile at him and take another sip of your drink.

“Willing to put yourself through the torture of listening to a shitty musician, just for your friends.” It’s you that laughs this time and you set your glass down, drying off the condensation against the side of your leg.

“You think he’s shitty, too?”

“Oh, the shittiest. Never seems to get any better.” Maker, he gets it. You’ve never actually heard the artist you’re here to see -- Hell, you can’t even think of the name now that you try, but Poe seems to understand. “But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you came.” There’s such honesty laced with his amusement and it momentarily catches you off-guard; your laughter falling silent while you watch him with a lingering smile.

“Yeah… Me too.”

An easy silence settles as you take the time to look over Poe’s face again, picking up subtle details that you may have overlooked the first time. The peppering of greys in his stubble, a small scar on his cheek and the way his eyelashes seem to fan out right at the ends of his upper lids. Those striking looks make it difficult to avert your eyes when his meet yours, so you hold them for a few seconds and simply smile at each other, as though already knowing where this encounter is going to end up.

But the man behind the bar interrupts the moment all-too soon; his presence in your periphery also catches Poe’s attention as he glances over at him.

“Is it that time already?” Poe asks and finishes his drink without ordering another. There’s a sense of disappointment settling in your stomach at the thought of this man leaving before you’d really got to know much about him.

“Got a few minutes, but they’re ready whenever you are.” The man taps the bar top a couple of times and then leaves Poe to it. But he’s already straightening up as his eyes find yours again and before he can say anything, your mouth is blurting out words you weren’t intending to voice out-loud.

“Are you leaving?” As much as you try to play this casually, there’s still a hint of disappointment in your voice and you know that he hears it.

“I am…” Poe trails off and then throws you a grin; it’s different to the smiles you’ve been getting out of him and you suddenly find out why. “Got some shitty music to play.” It takes you a few seconds, but then something clicks. A light comes on so suddenly in your brain and you feel your mouth open, then quickly close again -- a motion that you repeat a few times as everything begins to make sense.

“You’re-”

“I am.”

“No…” You trail off, feeling the heat of embarrassment rush to your face and the back of your neck. “Why didn’t you say something?” Maker, you’re mortified. You’ve been sitting here, indirectly complaining about being dragged to see him. He’s the shitty musician.

“You didn’t ask…” Poe trails off, as though it’s the most obvious point he could make. “But it was worth it. Your face, a real picture.” And then he pauses, as though he wants to say something before thinking better of it. Instead, he quips, “I hope your sock dries out.”

“Yeah, me too.” You smile and watch as his lips curve upwards to return it; the genuine quality of it bringing that same sparkle to his eyes before he finally steps away to make his way through the crowd of people. Within a few seconds, he’s gone from your sight and you exhale a heavy sigh before laughing to yourself. Maker. That was embarrassing, in the best possible way.

By the time you make it back to the booth -- luckily, with no more accidents -- the first song has already begun. Seconds. That’s all the time it takes for the cantina to fall silent; everyone seemingly absorbed in the man who takes command of the whole room with only his voice. There’s no theatrics, no big show -- just Poe. Poe, his guitar and a soothing voice that washes over the crowd.

And you have  to admit, he’s not a shitty musician. In fact, he’s far from it.

That melancholy voice stirs emotions inside of you that you weren’t expecting to feel tonight. They’re simultaneously heartwarming yet somber. His tones are gentle, yet rough. You’re no longer angry and frustrated at the events that had led to this moment; in fact, you’re far from it as you sit there with a soft, mellow smile on your face. Each song earns applause and sounds of approval from the crowd, causing the man on the stage to smile in the way that illuminates him brighter than the spotlight trained on him.

“There was no writing on the wall, no warning signs to follow... I know now, and I just can't forget... You're the best I never had.”

You can’t decide if it’s real or just wishful thinking, but it feels as though his eyes sweep across every so often to your direction, almost as if he still remembers where you had pointed out your friends to him earlier. You tell yourself that he’s not actually looking at you, not with all these other people in here who want to see him perform. But with each meeting of his gaze, it’s hard to convince yourself otherwise. It makes you feel almost giddy to think that in a cantina full of people, you still have his interest.

“In this motel, well past midnight... When I'm bluer than a bruise...”

It’s not a crush. It’s not. You’re not a kid, but it sure feels similar; it makes you smile and avert your eyes, it makes your stomach flip with a combination of excitement and longing to talk to him again. Maker, you want to be close enough to him to admire the way those eyelashes caress his skin with each blink, or the way his eyebrows raise to signal his amusement in conversation. You want to allow yourself to gravitate towards him again and lose track of time while appreciating the way he seems to listen to each word you speak.

But then, you swear everything momentarily stops. Everything around you becomes nonexistent, as though you’re the only person sitting there while your heartbeat kicks up a notch inside your chest.

“You come stumbling in, through the half-light, in your funny… wet boots.”

No, this isn’t a crush. In this very second, it’s a whole goddamn explosion of exhilarating amusement as you find yourself laughing out loud at the obvious change in Poe’s original lyrics. They don't even rhyme but they're about you. It’s endearing mockery and an attempt to draw you in. He knows that he has you because there’s a grin on his lips as he continues singing. Maker, how can one man be so kriffing charming?

Suddenly, you have a million reasons to be thankful you accepted the stupid invitation to come here tonight

You sit and listen to Poe’s captivating voice with a soft smile on your face, reveling in the intimacy he’s created between you with a simple reference to your shared joke. Despite the fact that this place is packed and he has a large audience hanging onto his every word, it almost feels like he’s singing for you.

As soon as the set is over, the bustle of the cantina resumes; everything becomes far too loud again. You can’t deny it, the good mood that you’re now in, mixed with the flow of drinks through Poe’s show has a relaxing buzz settling through your limbs while you try to keep up with the conversation going on in the booth.

“Another drink?” Zee motions to your empty glass that you’re still holding in your hand, having unknowingly finished it while distracted. You weigh your options and shake your head.

“No, thanks. I’m going to grab a smoke.” You politely decline and wait until she slides out of the booth so that you can follow as you pick up your jacket and slip it on. It’s still far too warm in there to be wearing layers, but you know the air outside carries a bite tonight.

Thankfully, your attempt to get out of the cantina is much more successful than the one getting in and you’re soon wrapping your arms around yourself as you step out of the way of the doors, trying to keep in some of the warmth you’d been willing to leave you earlier. Even from outside, you can still hear the muffled rumbles and voices coming from the other side of the wall.  A faint smile settles onto your lips as you slip a cigarette between them and make quick work of lighting it up.

No sooner are you exhaling the smoke and watching it curl upwards towards the cloudy sky, than the door to the cantina opens again and there’s a momentary rush of warm air spilling out into the cold night air. Your eyes slide over and that smile begins to curl further onto your lips as you watch Poe look to his right, then to his left before he spots you.

“Hey, Late.” His movements are almost a copy of yours as he steps out of the way of the door and comes to stand in front of you instead. “Your friend said I’d find you out here.” Of course she did. Your eyes move over Poe’s face, noticing that some of the curls you’d been staring at earlier were now damp and clinging to the skin around his temples from where he’d clearly been sweating while performing.

“Had to make my escape…” You trail off and lean back against the wall while you watch him. “Could only take so much of that musician.” This earns you a laugh while you pull the small, compact tin from your pocket that has your rolled cigarettes inside and offer it to Poe. “Want one?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Poe doesn’t need to step as close to you as he does while accepting one of your cigarettes, nor does he need to rest his hand against yours while dipping his head when you offer him a light, but he does. And the smallest contact of his hand brushing against yours creates the same tingling sensation as it had when reaching for the glass at the same time.

Poe frowns slightly as he takes a deep drag from the cigarette and then exhales slowly; his tongue licking at his lips, which momentarily distracts you from everything else. The lower one glistens in the lights strung up outside of the cantina and it takes every bit of self control you have not to step forwards and kiss him. And he knows it. It’s written all over his face while he watches you without saying anything.

An easy silence settles as you take turns drawing from your cigarettes; you, still leaning against the wall and letting your eyes drink in every inch of him while he stands before you, doing the exact same. Occasionally, you share a smile when your eyes meet his and hold him in a lingering gaze. He’s still just as handsome as the moment he caught you; his striking looks having stolen your words from you while you’d tried to compose yourself.

But now he was so much more. Charming, yet a tease, with a voice that could melt like butter and ooze a delightful softness. But there was something about him that was rough around the edges; a rugged energy that drew you in and made you want to know more.

“Do you want to grab some food with me?” Poe finally speaks after what feels like the longest time. Food? With this man? Your smile tells him your answer before you’ve spoken a word, yet you still take a few seconds to keep him hanging before you finally nod.

“I’d like that.” Your answer has that smile curling over his lips again as the corner of his eyes crinkle softly.

“Yeah, me too.” Poe throws your last words to him from earlier right back at you as he holds out his arm, and with the final drag on your cigarette, you discard it and push yourself away from the wall so that you can link your arm through his.

Maybe coming to see a shitty musician hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

--------

Taglist: @the-scandalorian @fett-ching @ohkarabast @salome-c @dinjarin-baket @meanperegrine @uncle-kenobi (hope you don't mind me tagging you, fellow poe hoe 💖) @the-little-ewok @mypedrom (didn't forget you this time sweetie 💖)

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x gn!reader #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x gender neutral reader #writing prompt #star wars fanfiction

[shadowsingersmate]

Saw you were taking requests and I’m a slut for any ACOTAR x Reader fluff. Maybe a sweet early morning bit with Cassian with a shy/insecure reader who worries she may not be good enough to be with someone as powerful as him? 🥰

Okey so I’m new with this so I’m gonna try my best, hope you enjoy!

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱, 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳- 𝗱𝗼𝘂𝗯𝘁, 𝗻𝗲𝗴𝗮𝘁𝘂𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀

𝗙𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗿𝘁: 𝗶 𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝗳𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗿𝘁, 𝘀𝗼 𝗶𝗳 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗲 :)

You were always insecure, questioning yourself and your worth had become a daily habit. Maybe it was because your family had always made sure that you’ll feel the worse about yourself, think the worse about yourself.

Thankfully, you had escaped that miserable place. Now you were with your mate- the love of your life, cassian.

You met cassian at Rita’s, his bold self and incontrollable cockiness and loudness captured your interest immediately. He was the one who approached you first. He asked your name and complemented you y/e/c eyes, he said it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Well, at that time he was dead drunk, swinging around in the bar, laughing at his own sloppiness but you just couldn’t help but feel special, worthy.

It had been two months till you found out that you were mates. You, as happy as you were with the news, couldn’t help but feel that the cauldron might had made a mistake, a 𝑏𝑖𝑔 one. You’d feel like he was too good for you, that you were unworthy of his love and attention. Maybe he knew it too, maybe that’s why he never said that he loved you.

You never shared your thoughts though so they just kept creeping in your mind still. Well, of course you tried to hide those feelings and thoughts from cassian by keeping them as far away from the mating bond.

Today was different. You woke up, the broad sunlight hitting your face. You grunted, Cassian was still asleep you shifted so that you face him and stared at him, admired his intimidating, warriors features, his hair. How peaceful he looked asleep. But then the thoughts that haunted you crept in.

𝗪𝗵𝘆 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗵𝗶𝗺? 𝗛𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱.𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗵𝘁𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻. 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘆 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲. 𝗛𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂.

It was all too much. You loved that male, with every fiber in your body you loved him- you loved him enough to know that you didn’t deserve him, not in the slightest bit. You had made a mistake, he was too good, too kind, too strong, too caring and you were just a quiet insecure girl.

You tried your best to hold back the tears that were threatening to escape, when you heard Cassian’s hoarse voice “morning beautiful” he said. You smiled at him- no, you most definitely did not deserve him.

“Good morning cass” . Cassian smiled at you.

You couldnt take it, laying besides that male, you felt less...

“im gonna go and make breakfast“ you said quietly before you left the bed.

You knew thaf cassian would question the abruptness, you were the kind of person who would stay in the bed, usually cuddle with him and laugh at his jokes but not today.

You headed to the kitchen, you were angry at yourself.

You started chopping fruits.

𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗯𝗴 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝗺, 𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝗶𝗳 𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲.

More of those malicious thoughts found the way in your head.

Cassian indeed did not deserve you, he deserved something more. Someone like nesta to match his boldness, someone more talkative, someone sure of herself.

You felt the tears breaking free, you couldn’t stop it.

Your attention was captured by your self doubt so much that you only connected to the real world when you felt a pinching pain on your finger.

Looking down you saw blood- lots of it. You cried harder as you grabbed a towel, trying to stop the flooding.

“you okey? I smelled blood“ Cassian’s worried voice echoed in the room.

“Oh yeah I’m fine” you said as steadily as you could.

“Cauldron, how did you do that to yourself? Let me take care of it” he said as he picked you up placing you carefully on the counter.

“Does it hurt?” You shook your head as a record.

He watched you skeptically. “Then why are you crying? Does it has to do with me? Did I upset you?”

You couldn’t hear him, couldn’t stand it. Hearing him so worried of hurting you.

You pushed him away and stood up. You could sense his stillness, his confusion.

“I- darling? What hap-“

“How do you know that the cauldron hadn’t made a mistake back then?” You cut him off “how do we know that we are perfect for each other? That we match? That we deserve each other” the last words were a little less than a whisper.

“Y/n? What are you saying, do you not want this?” You could see the hurt in his expression.

“Of course I do, I do want this more than anything but let’s be honest here cassian, I don’t deserve you, I never did and I never will”

He flinched but he didn’t miss a second. He rushed to you cupping your face with his massive hands “what are those ridiculous things y/n?” He said, his voice as soft as it could get.

“You really thing that I don’t deserve 𝘆𝗼𝘂?” He continued “you’re my mate, my equal, the person the mother chose for me, that 𝗶 𝗰𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗺𝗲. I don’t want better and I could not do better”

“But what if it was-“ he knew what you were about to say, and he didn’t want to hear a lick of it.

“I love you y/n and even if the cauldron has made a mistake I could not be more greatfull for bringing you into my life. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me” he finished and you swore his eyes were watery.

You couldn’t help but cry harder.

“What’s that about? Did I/“

“No! No, you didn’t say anything bad, I love you too cassian”

#shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #books & libraries #fanfic #writing #oneshots #cassian x reader #cassian #acotar fluff #acotar #acomaf #night court #cassian acosf #fluffy #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames

[writing-in-april]

My Date with the President’s Daughter

Spencer Reid x Female Reader (Spencer POV)

Summary: Spencer has a date with the President’s daughter, who he’s been dating for a while in partial secret. He hasn’t seen her in person for a while so he’s had to settle for another form of communication.

A/N: Ok just to get this out of the way— this is not a politically charged fic, I don’t express my own political beliefs in this fic nor do I express my opinion on the beliefs of others. The president in this fic is entirely made up and I just thought it would be cool to release it on Inauguration Day like the nerd I am. I do not want a political debate in the comments, this blog is not meant for that. This fic is for fun and to make people a little happier in these trying times. Please respect my wishes. This was a really fun way to write a twist on Spencer dating someone famous and- I wonder if anyone can spot the West Wing reference I used 🤔Thanks to @spencers-dria again for always helping me out with my fics 🥰This is also apart of my unlinked fic series called Spencer Reid & Letters! Requests are open and thank you for reading!

Warning: Vague political talk, References to keeping their relationship secret earlier, Avoiding the paparazzi- that should be it.

Main Masterlist Spencer Reid & Letters Word count: 1.6k

She didn’t have to put her short little letter to me on the back of a postcard, but she always did it this way. I remember when she first told me why she did it. We were sitting cuddled up on my couch at the early start of our relationship. I had asked her why she always insisted she send her letters on the back of a tiny card, she would’ve had so much more room if she got out a piece of paper.

She said she got into the habit of sending them to her father whenever he was away on business. Her handwriting had been horrible as a child according to her and her father had suggested she try to fit all of her thoughts onto a postcard. So, now she sent all of her letters neatly handwritten with the smallest of letters, so small you could almost barely read them, on the back of a postcard.

The postcard I had gotten late today, delivered by one of the last people on duty this late at night, was a picturesque view of the White House. The grass bright green and the outside covered in pure crisp white, a statuesque image of American democracy. Now, she didn’t send this to me because she wanted to express her political views and patriotism in a postcard, it just so happened to be where her father lived.

The fact that she was the President’s daughter used to intimidate me a lot when I first met her. I hadn’t immediately connected the dots in my head that she was the first daughter when we first met, though I could tell I had seen her somewhere before. Though, my first assumption was that maybe she had been a regular at my favorite coffee shop, not the daughter to the President of the United States. Literally my biggest boss.

First time I met him was also my first time in the east wing; she had some help from her secret service detail to sneak me in through the back. I only ever nervously stutter when I’m in intimidating or stressful situations and I’m pretty sure I barely got a sentence out the first ten minutes after I had met him. Luckily, he did seem to like me, though I’m not really sure why. Y/N told me once it was because he found my intelligence extraordinary and my constant willingness to share facts endearing. I always blush when I remember that, she was always so sweet to me and the fact that her family loved me as well caused my heart to swell exponentially. I stared at the captured view for a few seconds longer before the dots had fully connected in my head, I may have an eidetic memory, but sometimes it took me a minute to get her subtle hints. She didn’t actually live at the White House, she had her own house in D.C. But, this postcard meant one thing. She’s home.

Each postcard she sent me had a picture of wherever she was while she was traveling the world, it was a small gesture that made me feel closer to her, I always tried to imagine I was there with her at every location she sent. She had been out of the country for at least a month on business and even before that we hadn’t seen each other for a while, I had been stuck on a long case that kept me away from her for half a month.

A month and a half, that’s how long it's been since I’ve had her in my arms. I turned over the card expecting to see it filled with more words than most people would think could fit on the back of a postcard to let me know when I could see her, but this was not the case. Instead, the back of the card contained less words than normal. Only the words- meet me at 10pm at our usual spot.

My body moved faster than my brain, getting up to pack up all my things to rush to our usual spot. My watch sat over my cardigan sleeve on my wrist and it blinked up at me letting me know I only had 30 minutes till I had to get to the other side of town.I still had some paperwork left, but enough that I could push it off till the next day. Once I had gotten all my stuff together I scurried over to leave through the glass doors.

“Are you heading home, Spence?” A voice from inside the bullpen called out startling me out of my thoughts, I had thought everyone had left for the night. I turned around to look at the owner of the voice, JJ, who had come back from the break room to finish her large stack of paperwork that still remained.

“Actually no- I have a date.” A small shy smile made its way onto my face, I still felt very shy when I talked about my relationship with the team. When I had first told them after around 8 months into our relationship, they had thought I was pulling their legs. Once they did realize that I was in fact, not bullshitting them as Morgan had suspected, the questions had immediately come down on me. The ogling at my relationship never really ceased in the months after it had come out to the team, and the rest of the world. We mostly still tried to keep it under wraps, but the fact that the press now knew about me after some photos got leaked from a date only made the team ogle even more.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to who you go on dates with, it’s like something out of a movie.” JJ joked, then yawning again and leaning her face into her palms. “Well- I still have a lot of paperwork to do, you go enjoy your night, Spencer. I know you haven’t seen her in a while.”

My mind had already begun to shift away from JJ as soon as she brought her up, I was practically vibrating in anticipation, I couldn’t wait to see her.

—-

The rare book store on the east side of Quantico had been my favorite for years, ever since I had moved out here from Vegas actually. So much so that the owners, an older couple named Margaret and Dan, both knew me by name and knew almost exactly what books I wanted every time. The both of them had immediately jumped at the chance when I had hesitantly asked them to let the both of us meet up here, I had been desperately trying to find a place outside of my apartment where we could meet up.

When I entered the shop through the back it was already deserted just for us, she must have contacted Maggie and Dan to ask them if we could have the store for the night. The store was packed full of the rare books the owners had both acquired over the years, ranging from old tales and poems written by Edgar Allan Poe, the dark brother’s Grimm tales, to almost any old book that you could think of. It was almost to the point where I thought maybe Maggie and Dan should upgrade to a bigger shop.

“Long time no see.” A voice piped up from the mostly dark corner where she sat in a dark green armchair only partially illuminated by a standing lamp. Broad grins broke out on both of our faces before we both ran to each other, engulfing ourselves into an overwhelming bear hug.

“I missed you so much you don't even know.” Tears prickled at the edge of my eyes, though I wasn’t afraid to admit that us being apart for so long made me tear up.

“I've got a pretty good idea, I missed you so much as well.” She sniffed and then sighed into the crook of my neck. I moved my hand up to cradle her head to try and bring her as close as possible to me, even though there was already not even an inch of space between the two of us.

A nagging thought was dancing around in my brain, the card was so short and abrupt. It wasn’t like her to not be long winded whenever she wrote to me, she even had a tendency to be worse than I was sometimes.

“Why was the card so short? You feeling ok?”

“I just couldn’t wait to see you… It’s been so long since I’ve seen you...” Her tone of voice made me sad, it had been so lonely for me as well when we were apart.  “I never want to be away from you for that long ever again.”

“Move in with me.” The words blurted out of my mouth before I could really think about my words. I didn’t care whether it would be feasible or not, I just knew I never wanted us to be apart for so long ever again.

“Well-“ I cringed a little at her words sensing a rejection, I worried that I had just screwed it all up by asking. However, again she surprised me, “We might need to get a new place to settle my father’s worries about security.”

I breathed out a breathy laugh of relief at her words, enveloping her into a bruising kiss, my worry and anxiety immediately melting away. I couldn’t wait for the next chapter of my life with the President’s daughter.

—-

Tag list (Message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky

Spencer Reid/CM:

@calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss

Spencer Reid & Letters Series:

@sierraraeck @90spumkin @whoreforthebau

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid & letters series #spencer reid & letters #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #series #criminal minds series

[kpop-zone]

True North | Chuu

High School AU | exes | “I let you mooch off of my Netflix and this is how you repay me?” | “It’s just so hard not to fall in love with you.”

Genre: angsty

Wordcount: 1,870

As soon as you stepped foot into the classroom, you instantly felt like turning around and running away again. Of course, she was there. Laughing with people that she probably didn’t even know. But as the social butterfly that she was, she could charm every person on this planet in less than a second. Just like she had charmed you. You hated yourself for hating to see her this happy. You didn’t want to be that ex. But somehow you couldn’t bear to know that she was absolutely unfazed by your breakup while you were still looking through your pictures every night. Just when you were contemplating whether this was enough reason for you to drop this class, you could suddenly feel someone tapping your shoulder, so you turned around in confusion.

“Are you already tired of my class before the school year has even really started?”

Mr.Kim, your math teacher, asked with an amused expression on his face, causing your eyes to widen in shock.

“N-no of course not!”

You stuttered, feeling like he had just caught you redhanded. Embarrassed, you lowered your head and quickly entered the room to search for a vacant seat. What a great way to leave a good impression on the first day of school... Not wanting to make an even worse impression, you quickly rummaged through your backpack to fish out your calculator and your pencil case when you suddenly felt someone tapping your shoulder once more. Stressed out, you turned around, just to be met with the wide (and highly adorable) grin of your ex-girlfriend who waved excitedly at you from the seat right behind you. In an instant, your already bad mood got even worse, and you rolled your eyes before turning to the front again. You already knew that this would be your least favorite class throughout the whole school year. The rest of the week confirmed your suspicion as you were able to avoid your girlfriend wherever else you were going. You attended no other classes together and in the cafeteria you always made sure to pick a table at the opposite side from where she was sitting. It made it easier not to think about her all of the time which was why you had a stomachache right before your next math class on Monday. You knew that seeing her would demolish all progress in getting over her in the blink of an eye.

But to your surprise Jiwoo wasn’t entertaining the whole class yet when you entered the room later than usual after having given yourself a pep talk in front of the school for almost ten minutes. Her seat was still empty, making you hope that she had dropped the class for some inexplicable reason. Nervously, you wriggled about on your chair while staring at the clock on the wall incessantly. There were only a few more seconds left till the class would start. If she wasn’t here yet it had to mean that she would not show up anymore, relieving you of the burden to see her every week, right? To your dismay, however, your ex-girlfriend breathlessly stumbled into the classroom with two iced beverages in her hand right when the bell rang to indicate the start of the first period. Like the needle of compass always found north, her eyes immediately found yours, causing her face to light up in an instant.

With big steps she headed directly for you like she was on some sort of mission, making you get smaller and smaller in your seat. You couldn’t even stand seeing her without having the urge to fling your arms around her neck to beg her to take you back, you definitely weren’t strong enough to talk with her. For a split-second you thought about running away, but before you could make a decision, a high-pitched squeal catapulted you back to reality again. Jiwoo’s wide grin had suddenly turned into a horrified grimace, and you felt a cold shudder spreading from your chest to the rest of your body. Confused, you looked down on yourself, making you realize that one of the beverages that Jiwoo had proudly paraded around, had found its way onto your shirt.

“I’m so sorry!! I didn’t mean to. I stumbled over your backpack and somehow the cup slipped out of my hand.”

Jiwoo gasped, still frozen to the spot. Your initial shock quickly died down as the ice-cold liquid seeped through your clothes, managing to wake you up better than any warm coffee.

“Are you serious?? I let you mooch off of my Netflix and this is how you repay me?!”

You growled angrily, 100% certain that Jiwoo had dropped the beverage on you on purpose.

“No!!! It’s not like that! This was not on purpose.”

Your ex-girlfriend yelled in despair, looking at you with those puppy dog eyes that had always been able to make you forgive her for everything.

“I can fix this!”

From one second to the other, Jiwoo’s annoyingly contagious positivity was back and before you knew what was happening, you already felt yourself being pulled off your chair towards the door. Without granting you a voice, Jiwoo dragged you through the almost empty hallways of your school to -as you assumed- the restrooms. Instead of protesting against Jiwoo’s unsolicited decision, however, you were busy staring at her hand that was tightly gripping your wrist. As much as you fought it, you couldn’t suppress the tingling feeling in your stomach that the much longed for feeling of Jiwoo’s touch on your skin caused. While the two of you had been dating, there had barely been a moment when you hadn’t held hands. And after you had broken up, you sometimes felt like you were going through some sort of phantom pain because your hands felt so empty without hers to hold. Now everything finally felt in place again and you couldn’t help but to wish that Jiwoo would never let go. Unfortunately, however, everything had to come to an end eventually. And your daydreaming of a time when everything was still alright came to an abrupt halt when someone suddenly called your name.

“Y/N?”

With a jolt you snapped you out of your trance and realized that Jiwoo neither was holding your wrist anymore nor dragging you through the hallways. The two of you had already reached one of the restrooms of your school and she was staring at you expectantly like she was waiting for you to say something.

“W-what?”

You asked confused, only faintly being aware that Jiwoo had asked you a question.

“I asked whether it’s ok that I clean your shirt?”

She repeated herself although this was the first time that you actually understood what she had been saying. Still feeling like you weren’t able to form a coherent verbal response because your brain had run too hot, you simply nodded and Jiwoo softly started dabbing a wet paper towel on the giant brown stain on your shirt.

“Oh no, this is your favorite shirt even, isn’t it?”

Jiwoo whined when the stain didn’t vanish as she had hoped, but you couldn’t even care less about it anymore. She remembered what your favorite shirt was? You knew that you shouldn’t feel so flattered by this unimportant fact, but your heart didn’t seem to care about what your brain had to say and fluttered in your chest by its own accord. This would be the perfect opportunity to make her feel bad and finally wipe that annoying grin off her face at least for a while, but once more you remained silent. Jiwoo didn’t seem to be bothered by your silence though. Instead, she started babbling about random things like always when she was nervous, and you simply listened to her sweet voice that you had missed so much. You didn’t know how long you stood there, allowing yourself to get completely entranced by her charms. Once more only an unexpected sound could rip you out of your daydreaming although this time the wake-up call was more unpleasant than the last one. It was the sound of your own voice that abruptly ripped you out of your trance. The most surprising thing about hearing your own voice was that you hadn’t even intended to speak. But it seemed like after the betrayal of your heart, now also your brain had plotted against you.

“It’s just so hard not to fall in love with you.”

It took you some time to process what your mouth had let slip without your permission, but as soon as the message arrived in your brain, your eyes widened in shock and your body tensed up. Jiwoo mirrored your reaction and stopped dabbing your shirt before slowly looking up from your shirt and into your eyes. It was hard to pinpoint what emotions flashed over your ex-girlfriend’s face as your own emotions seemed to ride a rollercoaster in your brain. A little part of yourself was relieved to be freed of this secret. But you were also angry at yourself for letting the truth slip. After letting Jiwoo break your heart, you had sworn yourself to never let her know that she still had a grip on you despite everything that she had done to you. You told yourself that she would never be allowed to know that she still managed to make you fall in love with her over and over again. Every day. Every time that you had to see her.

But now she knew.

And you couldn’t help but to feel ashamed. Although you had known that Jiwoo obviously did not suffer from the breakup like you did, you gave her the gratification of revealing the power that she still had over you. Not being able to bear this shame any longer, you quickly shoved Jiwoo away, causing her to stumble backwards dumbfounded. Without losing another word, you brushed past her and fled the restroom. The tears that pooled in your eyes and stained the floor, made it hard to see where you were going but you trusted your instincts to get you as far away from Jiwoo as you possibly could. Once again, however, her omnipresent grasp reached out for you as her name rolled off her tongue and automatically made you slow your steps.

“Y/N, wait!”

Her voice bounced off the walls in the empty hallway and seemed to follow you until you reached the front exit, but this time, you didn’t give in to Jiwoo’s grasp. You kept running until you had long left the school building and couldn’t even see it anymore. You only stopped running once your lungs burned and you felt too lost to keep going although you knew this part of town like the back of your hand. It was no help to know the names of the streets by heart when none of these places could make the compass needle in your heart stop spinning. No matter where you would run, the needle would always keep on pointing in the same direction. Your feet would always want to carry you back to the same place.

To your true north that you had just left behind.

#drabble game #loona #loona scenario #loona imagine #chuu imagine #chuu scenario #kim jiwoo #chuu x reader #idolxreader #girl group scenario #girl group #kpop scenario #kpop

[supercorp-hosie]

Josie and Lizzie personality, dynamics and popularity in reality

I've kind of done this before, like in my thoughts for 315. Now, I've made some additions to them, so I think why not start a new post? There are some points that remained the same with my thoughts for 315 and I've integrated some points from my rating of the writing of Legacies characters too.

Starting from Alaric being an absent father since the twins were 11. Caroline wasn’t there either. What’s left for Lizzie? Josie.

Josie had to handle herself and Lizzie alone. Sure Alaric might not always be absent, but the intensity of Lizzie’s perspective begs to differ. Josie had to understand Bipolar at a very young age; be there when Lizzie had her outburst; constantly checks on Lizzie to take her meds; digest the emotion impacts after the outburst; understand how Lizzie functions when she was down. None of that are easy. No one asks about how Josie feels. How she pent out? What does she need? Josie might feel the need to be not needing things and always be good so that she can get the love and attention from Alaric (in s1, Josie felt the need to lose the game to get on Alaric good side). As results, she just started to suppress her voice and her needs, because Lizzie needed them the most. Over time or years of suppressing in front of her dearest family, she most likely felt unneeded by her parents, and forgettable to her parents (the girl so quiet that her parents forget about her, the girl that Penelope won’t fight for anymore). She needed to feel needed, so she just let Lizzie take all of her, from whom she felt needed the most. It started a vicious cycle for the twins, shaped their dynamics and how Josie is in present days. Unfortunately, her problems were never solved, they accumulated, leaving the good and dark side from Josie being so separated and unbalanced, as no one has helped her to sort them out. The inner turmoil is always there, leading to the extreme polarity of Josie’s good and bad side.When she’s doing bad, she would be especially aggressive than she needed to be because that’s an instinct to compensate the lack of action before. After long suppression, once being released, the instinct would be stronger than usual and more uncontrollable. Under the influence of dark magic, Dark Josie felt like another personality taking over the whole Josie and protect their interests that true Josie are neglecting. Kind of like dissociative identity disorder but not really it? Fear the dog that doesn't bark.

From Lizzie perspective, we can see how she perceived Josie when they were little. Like Lizzie being princess but Josie being her android, personal valet? It just showed that after what Josie had endured and done, Lizzie thought of herself being princess but didn’t think Josie as her equal? Like Josie was programmed to bow to Lizzie. That’s the twins dynamic showing, partly Josie's mistake, but Josie deserved more than that, even when she’s derogatory to herself, Lizzie should uphold that for her. What really warms me from the Android situation, is that from how Josie is the combination of two Androids, showing that Lizzie actually looked up to Josie. For Lizzie, Josie can really take care of her so well that Lizzie can count Josie as her personal valet. Derogatory, yes, but that place is also very important to prince and princess. Remember that Lizzie can’t cook but Josie is like expert in cooking or baking? The knowledge for Android part means that in Lizzie’s mind, Josie actually is like the person who knows everything. Usually that figure should be our parents, but for Lizzie, Josie knows the answer to all. The fact that the special sword was in Josie’s thigh the whole time, just show the trust that Lizzie had in Josie. The security of her needs that Lizzie got from Josie and the validation Josie got from Lizzie, it’s kind of how the codependency between them works. Lizzie voices, Josie listens; Lizzie wants, Josie gives.

About Lizzie mental illness, after my research, I think that Lizzie situation is more like borderline personality disorder rather than bipolar. Lizzie has this low self-esteem issue, she sees herself lowly sometimes. Evidently, she always thinks that she had to better herself more, even in 310 where she misjudged Finch, she forgot the fact that she had improved a lot along the seasons and just go straight to a retreat, because she thinks she’s still a very bad person. A second before she saw herself like holy almighty, the next second she saw herself so bad that she was like the person in season one (and even in season one she wasn’t that bad). However, we can also see Lizzie thinks very highly of herself sometimes, or uses a narcissistic attitude to cover up her insecurities regarding her self-image, they just doesn't match with people's view of it. The most alarming one must be the whole thing about her funeral. It's clear that she hasn’t had a stable self-image of herself, which is more of a personality disorder rather than Bipolar, a mood disorder. About Lizzie’s mood swings, they are too sudden, abrupt, it triggers by events and the outcome of the trigger is quite immediate. As for Bipolar, the mood swing is more of a consistent cycle, not abrupt. Yes, events might trigger something, but they take time to set in. Patients will be overly energetic during maniac while feeling overly fatigue during the depression state. They can’t actually control their mood, it’s a mood disorder.

Tbh, the twins really have their personality issues to deal with. I totally agree with other about them being each other's foil. Like Lizzie being the one in between, while Josie being the one in extreme. Turning out that under the mean girl cover, Lizzie has such big heart; while Josie being the model sister on the extremely good side, turning out that she can be extremely dark. For real, they had like six personalities as a whole. The polarity in Josie; the polarity of Lizzie's self-image; plus the twins themselves being the foil and mirage to each other. They both have serious mental problems, Lizzie's apparent, Josie's invisible.

How does these reflect on their relationship? People would choose to get along with someone like Josie, they benefit from her habit of caring, listening, giving, and she doesn’t seem to have serious problem. As for Lizzie, people mostly like to be heard and to not be covered by another voice, they would want enough reciprocation, a habit which Lizzie is not that familiar. Not to mention, having a mental condition being well-known is not the best trait for strangers to start a new friendship or relationship. Moreover, when people observe their dynamic, they jump to conclusion rather quickly, that Lizzie is always taking things from Josie; she doesn’t care for Josie, etc. It doesn’t help Lizzie much as Josie tends to hide under that too, as being quiet is kind of a routine for her. She wants the spotlight but habitual instincts make her tend to hide from the spotlight. Therefore, as for popularity,Josie is definitely at the top, adored dearly by her peers, thus won an election herself wasn’t even running; while Lizzie, you know. Between a dog that always barks and one that doesn't bark, which will you choose? (not derogatory) However, if someone attack Lizzie, Josie will still protect her, like she did tell Penelope to leave Lizzie alone.

To shed light on Josie’s jealousy, it rooted from the abandonment issues of the twins. It is a consequence of them being Alaric’s second choice and the absence of Caroline. For Lizzie, the issue remains with only Hope, Alaric’s betrayal for Hope in her fanfics; in 314, people prioritising Hope over her is very triggering; even in 316, the heavenly state she’s in because Ethan asked her out after the whole "Hope is perfect" speech, indicate that how she can’t believe someone would choose her over Hope. As she never thinks that she can hold a competition against Hope and win. Lizzie’s abandonment issue is minimal because of the presence of Josie, it provides the security in Lizzie’s life, as she is the first choice for Josie.

The abandonment issue is worse for Josie. Even if Josie is Lizzie blind spot, this part of Lizzie is not usually make known of. Josie would feel that she is second choice to everyone, including Lizzie. Like the personal valet that has no needs? Lizzie is just 11, but 11 is an important age in shaping people’s security in a relationship. Josie couldn’t have got much security from all her important relationship, hence the abandonment issues. She always feels helpless in them, afraid to voice her needs, desperately needed recognition from her parents which is probably very few. She needs control but she didn’t know the way to get it, so she got none. The insecurities heighten when it comes to her love life, making her easily provoked if she saw something she didn’t like. Results from the habitual quietness, her way of defending herself and gaining control is to lower her competition, like hurting the girl hitting on Landon, being hostile to Hope. She hated Penelope for abandoning her, she remained control mostly, when provoked, Josie’s abandonment issues and the insecurities in being the second choice were triggered so badly that she set her on fire. The time she did what she need to do, she overdid it, because her dark side needs to compensate what hadn't been done to protect oneself and tend to the needs – to balance out the imbalance. As she loses more control over the issue while desperately wants to suppress the need of control, the polarity in her keeps worsening and the dark side of her keeps surfacing.

This is why Josie is written to embrace and take care of herself, tend to her needs, like her never need to better herself. Lizzie is written to constantly better herself when she seems like a better person than Josie. Josie’s issues root from years of neglecting her needs, while Lizzie has years of habit of ignorance on how to care when she does care. Therefore, Josie taking care of herself = bettering herself, providing a balance in her so her mental can be stable even when provoke. If Lizzie cannot construct a good self-image, while getting positive feedback to reassure her self-image disparity, she can never overcome her personality disorder. Hence bettering herself to meet her own needs.

Their behaviours as presented are cultivated and shaped by each other under the unhealthy circumstances of their household. It is not logical to only accuse of one twin regarding their behaviours to each other without bringing the other twin and their parents into consideration.

@legacies-supremacy I still remember our twins dynamic discussion, I hope this bring my response as a whole. Btw, you kind of said that in 106, Josie tell Lizzie to go to their party without her several times and Lizzie waited for her? It's not true.

Regarding the whole situation, Josie spent all her time helping Lizzie get ready. When Lizzie is done, she said, "You’re not even dressed, I don’t want to be late on my own party." Josie said, "I’m done, I’ll catch up with you, okay?" Then Lizzie take off to the party and enter without Josie without question. After wearing the talisman, Penelope appeared. She expresses her desire to continue to make Lizzie uncomfortable or unhappy or angry. Josie wanted Penelope to ease up on Lizzie. Penelope said, "You have crawled so far down the codependence rabbit hole that you think taking care of yourself is selfish. Party starts in five. It’s a shame you spent all of that time helping Lizzie get ready." When Josie was dressed, she needed someone to help her braid, so for once she try something out of desire, she goes to Josette Laughlin. When Josette asked her whether Josie will be late to her own party, Josie said, "no one will notice". She expressed her thought that if Lizzie knew about her crush on Rafael too, the situation will look bad, so she kept silent.

During the party, Lizzie immediately enjoyed herself with MG. They had flirty moves with each other (i think). Once the soft music set in, she immediately changed partner. Penelope was the only one that notice Josie was no where to be seen (meanwhile Josie was getting buried alive). While Alaric encountered Hope to save Josie, Penelope is still the only one actively searching for Josie without request. After Hope met with MG and Penelope, the three of them started saving Josie together. Meanwhile Rafael told Lizzie the truth that he still hadn't moved on. Lizzie seemed like she was starting to melt down, and started asking for Josie. Hope, Penelope and MG saved Josie without Lizzie.

It is what it is, and I'm not blaming Lizzie. The whole getting buried alive thing just kind of enhanced Josie's feeling bad of getting what she desired. I kind of remember that she said that for once she listened to people urging her to pursue her desires and it ended up getting herself buried. Then Penelope like rewarded her with a kiss.

#legacies cw #legacies #josie saltzman #lizzie saltzman #josie x lizzie #twin dynamics #analysis #posie #hope mikealson #penelope park #hosie #milton greasley

[azucanela]

FAULT | BAKUGO KATSUKI X READER

SUMMARY: Y/N accompanies her mentor, Aizawa Shouta, to the homes of her fellow students after the incident at Kamino Ward. One moment with her classmate Bakugo Katsuki stands out in particular.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

WARNINGS: injury, insecurities, self-blame, is damn a curse word?

A/N: this is chill, i wrote it pretty quickly because i wanted the idea out of my head and onto the computer screen so lmk if its bad pls ashdkjashdjh

“Why exactly is she here again?” 

Toshinori Yagi, better known as the Pro Hero All Might, stared at the girl that stood beside Aizawa Shouta. Scrolling on her phone with one hand, and the case that held her hero outfit in the other. Y/N L/N, one of the top students in Class-1A, and the entire Hero Course. Since she’d gotten in on recommendation, her name had been on Principal Nezu’s list of potential successors. After seeing her skill, he understood why, and to gain Aizawa’s favor? That was a talent in and of itself. 

Shrugging, Aizawa brought his capture weapon and scarf further up around his head in an attempt to shield his face, they’d already been harassed by reporters about a dozen times and he didn’t want to be in any of the photos, “we have training after this.” 

It appeared this young girl was also Aizawa’s protege, though the man would likely never admit it, Toshinori could tell he’d taken a liking to the young girl, and taken her under his wing. She’d received additional training from the Pro Hero just like Midoriya received extra training from Toshinori. 

“So... I can go retrieve young Midoriya?” They’d just left his house, and now they were heading over to Bakugo’s. Y/N knew him fairly well, he’d insisted they train together when she’d scored better than him on quirk tests, and then he insisted they study together when she’d performed better on written work as well. In exchange, he helped her with the more physical aspect of being a Pro Hero. Her least favorite part if she was honest. But it was worth it, training with Bakugo was difficult, but it had certainly helped her improve. 

Their time together had gone from... strictly competitive to competitive and fun she supposed. Y/N had found that after spending a while with Bakugo, it was easier to understand that he had his own way of expressing his care for you. When Y/N forgot to bring lunch, he’d call her an idiot but he would share his own nonetheless, and this was a frequent occurrence so Y/N was shocked when he’d told her to stop trying as he’d slammed another lunch down in front of her.

He’d made her lunch everyday since then. Nobody dared comment on it purely out of fear for their life. It was an unspoken rule not to discuss the way that Bakugo treated Y/N, the different way he treated her. Of course, this was a rule Kaminari and Kirishima broke frequently, earning them quite a few —empty— threats. 

Watching her teacher, Y/N rose a brow as he practically glared at the former Number One Pro Hero, “absolutely not.”

The man opened his mouth to protest, only for Y/N to interrupt before the pair of teachers could argue, “I’m not interrupting anything by waiting outside.” Looking up from her phone, she offered him a smile, “if one of the parents happens to have a problem with it, I don’t mind waiting in the car.” Sitting outside was much more enjoyable than staying in the stuffy car with the scarily silent chauffer, but if she had to do it, then she would.

Aizawa gave Toshinori a look as Y/N spoke, and the man simply sighed in acceptance. “Onto the home of young Bakugo then.”

Y/N had been to his house a few times. Whenever the café they usual studied at wasn’t open, they either went to her home, or on rare occasions, his home. Of course, Bakugo had ensured his parents weren’t home whenever they did this, though Y/N wasn’t sure why. Regardless, most times at his house they’d get sidetracked, much to Bakugo’s dismay, and end up in his kitchen.

Pulling up in his driveway, a smile found its way onto Y/N’s face. She’d suggested numerous times that they have a picnic on his neatly trimmed lawn, though Katsuki shot her down most of the time. 

Stepping out of the car and sitting on the steps that go up to his front door, she watches as Aizawa and Toshinori enter with few questions from Bakugo’s mother. She looked a lot like him if Y/N was honest, and from the sound of it, they also shared a similar personality. Y/N could hear their yelling from outside.

Smiling at the sound of Bakugo yelling out insults, Y/N let out a small laugh as she leaned her head back against the wall. Though her laughter came to an abrupt stop when she heard what his mother yelled next.

That it was Bakugo’s fault he’d been kidnapped. 

Y/N found herself sitting up as the boy grew silent, coming to a stand to see if she could see his living room from the window beside the front door. But there was no view of Bakugo himself.

Perhaps thats because he was the one slamming the front door behind him, coming to a stop when he noticed Y/N’s attempts at snooping. She immediately turned to him, trying her best to look normal, though it was clear he’d noticed what she was doing. They made eye contact, and Bakugo opens his mouth, only to shut it as he narrows his eyes at her, “how much did you hear?”

His voice is oddly calm as his stare pierces into her soul, and its an odd change of demeanor for him, one that takes Y/N a few moments to understand. 

He was embarrassed. 

If Bakugo was honest, Y/N was one of few people he actually respected. She’d exceeded him in certain areas of school, and helped him improve in more ways than one. To make matters worse, despite his intent to get through his years at UA without a... distraction. Y/N had somehow wormed her way into his heart, no matter how hard he tried to keep her out of it. The fact that she’d come to his rescue when he was kidnapped, despite the potential consequences, hadn’t helped. She’d seen him at his weakest. 

“Bakugo-” 

His name alone is answer enough as Bakugo lets out a noise of frustration, moving to leave, only for Y/N to grab his hand despite the pain that spreads through her own at the feeling of small explosions emitting from his palm. Yanking him back towards her, Bakugo is opening his mouth once more, likely to yell at her for her idiocy as he attempts to remove his hand from her grasp. But Y/N doesn’t relent as she sweeps her foot under his leg and knocks him down, effectively allowing her to straddle him and hold him down.

“Let go of my hand you damned idiot!” There’s a panicked look on his face as he speaks, but the only thing Y/N can think of is the fact that he hadn’t threatened her yet. He hadn’t aggressively shoved her away with his free hand, nothing.

No, his concern was different, and Y/N’s concern probably should’ve been the same seeing as she could practically feel her skin sizzling from the heat of his own, but at that moment, she didn’t care as she grinned down at him, “bet you regret teaching me that move now, huh?” 

He pauses his writhing beneath her, chest heaving as he glared, “are you serious-”

“You know, what your mom said isn’t true.” This makes him go silent, and Bakugo finally allows his head to fall onto the grass as he looks away from her once more. “It wasn’t your fault Katsuki.

Bakugo inhales deeply, “I ruined All Might-”

In response, Y/N uses her free hand to push his shoulder harder into the ground and hold him still, “no! You didn’t.” 

“Didn’t I?” He finally manages to snatch his hand away from her, flipping the two of them over, Bakugo plants his hands beside her head, the grass singeing black because of the misuse of his quirk. Almost instantly, he frowns, “I can’t even control my stupid quirk-”

“You have some of the most impressive quirk control in the class, is that a joke?” Y/N brings both her hands—including the one that probably would’ve hurt a lot more had it not been for the adrenaline flowing through her veins— to his face, and as Bakugo brings his hand to her wrist, Y/N wonders if he’s going to rip her hands from him as she speaks, “Katsuki it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t ask to be kidnapped, and at the end of the day we are just kids. You can’t be expected to save yourself against villains.” His hand remains on her wrist, but he doesn’t remove it from his face as Y/N inhales deeply. “If anything it’s my fault-”

“Shut up.” The hand still beside her head clenches, tearing at the grass. “Shut up.” He repeats, exhaling sharply as his eyes squeeze shut, Y/N realizes this is because a tear successfully managed to fall down his cheek, despite his attempts to prevent it. “Don’t be dumb.” He practically growls at her, trying to hide his pain with aggression once more. 

Brushing her thumb against his cheek, Y/N offers him a smile, “then I guess its nobody’s fault.” 

He’s silent for a moment, eyes piercing in hers as he tries to figure out what to say. “Sure,” he grumbles in response, gently pulling her hand from his cheek, Y/N allows him to examine the damage, his brows furrowing at the sight of charred skin. He doesn’t say anything as he does, but Y/N can practically see the thoughts running through his minds at a million miles per hour. His fingers brush over the now raised skin, and when Y/N flinches, Bakugo’s fingers immediately leave her palm, causing her hand to drop.

Pushing herself up on one forearm, Y/N presses a kiss to his cheek, and she can practically feel his skin warm as she speaks, “it’s fine.”

He averts his gaze from her as her cheeks redden, “ I hurt you-”

“I’m fine.” Y/N disregards his words as she moves out from under him.

Bakugo’s brows furrow as he moves to a stand as well, “come over next weekend,” his words sound like more of a demand than an invitation.

“Sure, but can I ask why?” 

He grabs her uninjured hand, moving to bring her back inside his home, “let’s get something to help with your hand.” Bakugo doesn’t turn back as he continues, “and I owe you a picnic.”

Needless to say, it was a very nice picnic. One that Y/N left with a boyfriend.

A/N: this idea came to me at exactly 9PM

​

#katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x you #bakugou x you #bnha x reader #mha x reader #katsuki x you

[not-withoutyou]

Bucky’s eyes snapped open, choking on air— a hand hit a cushion.

“Sergeant Barnes?” A soft voice, gentle in a way that felt out of place accompanied with the panic lodged behind his sternum.

Observe.

A cot under him. A swimming head and buzzing white light —a laboratory. Hydra? No. Wakanda. Not a laboratory. A recovery room. Safe. He had been sleeping— not sleeping— unconscious, put under by means other than his own. Because there hadn’t been dreams. There hadn’t been anything.

No exit. No windows, blocked door. Shuri stood in the entry way, careful, nervous hands clasped in front of her. Not a threat. Friendly. Guards behind her —not friendly. (Understandable.)

Assess.

Why was he out? A mission failure. He’d failed, he’d failed. Another attempt at removing the triggers had caused an outburst. Bucky closed his eyes. He’d thought Steve was here. (Steve his friend. Steve his favorite person to see.) But he’d imagined it. Or Steve had left, hadn’t wanted to see him. Bucky understood. Or worse —maybe Steve was hurt, maybe Bucky had hurt him.

Bucky tried to sit up, to throw the blanket off his body — until he noticed that it wasn’t a blanket draped over him at all. It was a jacket. A light leather one that smelled like cologne he recognized from a dream.

“Captain Rogers was called away,” Shuri explained, pulling Bucky’s focus to the present again. “He wanted to wait for you to wake, but the business was urgent.”

Bucky nodded blearily. Captain Rogers —Steve— had been there, after all. The details were fuzzy, but yes, this was Steve’s jacket — it smelt like him. He must’ve forgotten it. Bucky clutched a handful of it like he was afraid it would evaporate.

“Sergeant Barnes,” Shuri tried again, noticing his attention starting to drift, but she didn’t sound angry. (Bucky would have deserved the anger.) The guards took a step closer to her simultaneously.

Bucky let the jacket fall back into his lap. “Did I hurt anyone?” His voice was hoarse. He’d been screaming, before. He remembered. The softness in Shuri’s expression made it almost seem like she cared. For being so young, she carried herself with so much compassion… like a little sister. Did Bucky have a sister? A name with an R. The thought only half-registered before it was gone.

“A few scratches. Just yourself.”

And Bucky felt a bandage near his collarbone, reached up and touched the gauze with his hand to solidify its existence. The damage would undoubtedly have been worse if he’d had a left arm.

“When you are ready, I have another theory I would like to test before the day is out.”

More procedures to try to get his sanity to stick, to un-scramble his thoughts. God, Bucky was tired. He was so tired, his head ached and he didn’t know how much more of this he could handle. “Okay. Can I just have 5 minutes?” His voice cracked.

“Take your time.” Shuri gave him a soft smile before she turned to leave.

Once again alone, Bucky brought the jacket to his nose and closed his eyes. Old leather and fresh, clean rain. Something woodsy and strong like cedar, like a past life. He pulled it close to his chest and thought to himself, over and over, that Steve would be back. He had to come back to get his jacket. And, perhaps, because he had promised. Bucky couldn’t remember why, but he knew that meant something.

After raining steadily for a few days, the thunder storm had started to break up. Cracks in the heavy, dark clouds almost looked like a creation myth over the vast fields and the purple-gray mountains in the distance. The Genesis of all things. Bucky was allowed outside with supervision. He needed a reprieve from the past two dour weeks. When Steve’s plane landed, he found Bucky sitting by the water, pulling blades of grass up by the roots. Bucky hadn’t meant to start plucking them —his hands did on their own volition. (Destruction was a pattern he needed to break.)

When Steve approached him, it was carefully, keeping his hands where Bucky could see them. (Not a threat. Safe. Safe.) He remembered Steve. He remembered that he missed him. That it was good to see him. Sometimes Steve showed up wearing tactical gear, dirty and beat up. Today, though, he was in khaki trousers and a white button down. His hair was neat and styled. (Some rogue part of Bucky’s brain thought he looked pretty.)

Bucky stood up, slow, awkward and off-balance.

“Hi, Buck. You remember me?” Steve asked. The usual greeting. (Sometimes Bucky didn’t remember, didn’t say anything at all.)

“You’re Steve.” Bucky wanted Steve to smile at him instead of looking so sad. (Steve always looked so sad. Worry lines were starting to crease his forehead.)

“Do you know where you are?”

“I’m in Wakanda trying to get better. I useta hurt people. I don’t do that anymore.”

Steve exhaled a breath he’d been holding. “I’m sorry I had to leave so quickly,” he said. “But — they needed me in DC.”

When Steve didn’t get any other response, he continued. “You’ve — you’ve been pardoned, Buck. You’re forgiven.” His hand reached out halfway between them, but he dropped it, shoving it back in his pocket.

Bucky opened his mouth, but didn’t utter a sound. He couldn’t meet Steve’s eyes.

“Do you remember what I always tell you?” Steve asked.

Bucky’s voice was thick with emotion when he found it again. “You say it wasn’t my fault.” He couldn’t meet Steve’s eyes.

Steve smiled. “That’s right. And the powers that be seem to agree with me.”

The best outcome he could have hoped for, so why did it feel so hollow? Bucky shook his head. Steve must have gone to argue on his behalf— but he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve it. A tiny nagging hope persisted out of spite — maybe Steve was right; maybe Bucky still had some gold in his tired heart. He couldn’t think, now, about what he’d done —his fucking bones would cave in. Shoving it all back, he’d deal with later.

Clearing his throat, Bucky reached down beside him to retrieve the bundle of material that had been carefully folded at his feet. “You forgot your jacket.” He held it out in front of him like a peace offering.

Steve blinked a few times in soft bemusement, but took the abrupt shift of topic in stride. Keeping his hands in his pockets, Steve made no move to take the jacket. “Oh! No, I— I left it for you.” There was something in the way he said it that made Bucky feel like there was more; like he’d left something out. (Bucky shrugged off the feeling — it wasn’t new. He always felt like he was missing something.)

“It’s yours.” Bucky didn’t know why, but he was adamant that Steve would get cold without it.

Something cracked in Steve’s expression. A lightning-quick flash of something in his eyes, shattered and crystalline.

“Keep it. We’ll share. It can be both of ours.”

Bucky didn’t know why shared custody of a piece of clothing made him feel like crying.

. . .

Visit me on Ao3

#stucky #stucky fanfiction #bucky barnes #captain america #stucky fic #steve rogers #steve/bucky #steve x bucky #stevebucky

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios University

After finishing off the last bottle of wine in the kitchen, Roman and Ulyssa moved their pity party to the yard. Drinking hadn’t made the situation any better, but they at least felt a little calmer. There would probably be a pretty massive hangover later on, but that was a problem for the future.

Theo got off the school bus with Cain and Rose, seeing that his father was badly playing kicky bag in their yard with Aunt Ulyssa. Hanging out with the Rivales twins was much more fun than going to his grandmother’s to work on homework like he’d been told to do.

His grandmother had still been waiting for him at the house, and was understandably panicked to not see Theo get off the bus. Roman’s game of kicky bag came to an abrupt end when a nearly hysterical Elaine called him looking for her missing grandson.

For the first time in years, Elaine berated Roman’s parenting as severely as she did Abe’s. Despite their rocky start, Elaine usually admitted that Roman was a pretty good father, but she was old, and Arkhelios was prone to sudden chains of mysterious murders. What was she supposed to think when her young grandson didn’t come home on time? For all she knew, he could have been Arkhelios’ most recent victim.

It was difficult for Elaine to ignore the way Roman was slurring his words on the phone. It wasn’t too noticeable for a stranger to pick up on, but again, Elaine had been pseudo parenting Roman for years now.

It was decided that Abe would arrive after his latest secretive meeting with Lucy to pick up Theo, since Roman was clearly in no shape to drive or teleport Theo to where he was supposed to be. Even as buzzed as he was, Roman’s sense of self-preservation had kicked in and he managed not to mention to Elaine that her future daughter-in-law had taught Theo how to teleport on his own. It was a fact that he was still angry about himself, but he knew better than to mention it to the woman who constantly worried about her family’s safety, and disapproved of even mentioning Theo’s genetic inheritance from Roman’s side of the family.

As great as it would be to see Kaeileen berated for interfering with his son, Roman knew that he and Abe would likely be Elaine’s next targets. Dealing with an angry Elaine was often worse than dealing with an angry Lucy. There was no denying where Lucy had inherited her temper from.

“Someone’s in trouble with Mom,” Ulyssa teased, playfully punching Roman’s shoulder. “Look at you, Roman Bellamy, afraid of Elaine Helios! Your grandfather’s probably rolling in his grave.”

“Yeah, probably,” Roman sighed. “I’m still grateful that she cares so much though. I always thought that once our parents found out about Theo, my family would be the understanding, helpful family, and Elaine would disinherit Abe and throw him out. I guess I misread that pretty bad.”

“No one wants to think badly about the people they love,” Ulyssa replied in a tone she hoped was comforting. “I was absolutely convinced that you were going to run out on Abe when you found out he was pregnant, but I misread you.”

“And now you can’t think badly of me because you looove me?” Roman laughed, twisting her words and earning him a scowl.

“You’re an asshole,” she teased back. “Only Abe can somehow find it in himself to love you, and I don’t know how he manages it. I only tolerate you so you keep bringing Junior around. He’s the only Bellamy I can stand.”

The two of them laughed together until Roman clumsily tripped over a nearby rock, and grabbed Ulyssa’s arm in a desperate attempt to stay upright. They were both more than a little tipsy though, and Roman only succeeded in pulling her down with him.

“Look at those two. They’re all over each other.”

Abe instantly regretted bringing his sister along to pick up Theo. He had hoped that she’d be civil because of her close connections to Yvette and Launce, but every time Ulyssa was nearby, Lucy went on attack.

“They’re drunk,” Abe pointed out calmly. “They’re obviously trying to stand back up, not make out. You’re being weird again. You promised that you’d back off Roman now that the deal is gone and you’ve ‘saved’ me from him.”

“I’m not being weird, they are,” Lucy replied huffily.

“Just look at them! It’s disgusting.”

Abe looked again, trying to see what his sister believed she was seeing and failing.

“I know it’s hard for you to accept that Ulyssa doesn’t return your feelings, Lucy, but come on. They’re just close friends. She might be Roman’s only friend actually.”

Abe was confident that Roman didn’t have any interest in seducing Ulyssa, but it was hard not to have the concrete proof that he’d had before. When he could feel the love Roman had for him burning deep in the core of his soul, it had been easy to refute Lucy’s paranoia. Now that the deal and the connection it gave him to Roman was severed, Abe could only try to deduce Roman’s feelings the same as he did for everyone else.

He tried reaching out with his mind to feel Roman’s familiar presence, but failed. How had he known what Roman was thinking before the deal was made? There was an invisible barrier between them now that he’d never been forced to acknowledge. No one knew what other people thought or felt. It wasn’t normal. Losing access to Roman’s feelings didn’t feel like it was normal though. It felt like he was trapped in his body, completely alone. There was almost always a physical and psychological aching now to be reconnected with Roman, and Abe had no idea of how to stop it. He didn’t need to feel Roman’s emotions to refute Lucy’s paranoid claims, but each time he had to look at Roman’s face to guess at his feelings felt like a direct stab to his heart.

“Do you mind not seducing my idiot brother’s boyfriend in a public street, Ulyssa?” Lucy shouted, instantly making Roman and Ulyssa jump away from each other.

“It’s not like that!” Roman responded angrily. “I swear to god Lucy, you really need to get over yourself.”

“I need to get over myself?” Lucy repeated in astonishment. “I’m not the one falling all over his ex-lover, too publicly drunk to take his son home, Roman.”

“What is your problem, Lucy?” Ulyssa demanded. “If you have something to say, just say it.”

Roman waved to get Abe’s attention away from the rising tension.

"Uh, Abe? We need to talk about something. Something important. Privately.”

“You’re just looking for a chance to cheat on your perfect fiancee,” Lucy snapped, crossing her arms angrily. “You don’t care about her at all, as long as you get attention. As long as you feel wanted.”

“Come inside, we need to talk. Leave Theo outside,” Roman said louder and Abe nodded, following Roman inside the house. Anything to be away from Lucy the erupting volcano.

“At least people want me,” Ulyssa shot back. “If I wanted to sleep with Roman again, he’d be undressed as fast as I could snap my fingers. Who wants you? Just Kaeileen, a desperate, hideous loser with nothing going for her. My kids are going to be monarchs and powerful magic users. You don’t even know who to blame for your own kid’s mediocrity. Just like your mom and brother, you already have a kid before you’ve even graduated university. If the pattern holds, maybe you can look forward to being a grandmother in your thirties.”

“Don’t talk about my brother, and especially not my daughter,” Lucy snapped. “You have no idea about my family. You were too busy living the high life with your snobby, rich friends when Theo was born. I was there for Abe and Theo while you did next to nothing to help. You don’t know anything about family either. You’ll cheat on Maura just like your mom cheated on your dad. I wonder how many times you’ve cheated on her so far?”

“Don’t go there, Lucy,” Ulyssa warned, suddenly looking nervous at her words. “There are some lines you shouldn’t cross, some things that shouldn’t be said. I’d be careful about what you say if I were you.”

“Or what?” Lucy taunted, fixated on staring Ulyssa down, oblivious to everything else around her. “Is that a threat?”

“There’s pictures of us doing what?” Abe’s distraught voice carried through the open window, but neither woman acknowledged it. “Where? In how many papers?”

“It’s only a threat if you think you might say something slanderous. Something that no one could ever believe,” Ulyssa answered coldly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a friend to help and a gorgeous fiancee to return to. People who want me around. I hope one day you’ll find that too.”

Ulyssa moved her right hand in a jumbled, shaky pattern, but produced only a few magical sparks of light. Frowning, she leaned against the house for support, and waved her hand again producing the same result. With a frustrated groan, Ulyssa gave up and just walked as composed as she could manage into the house, slamming the door closed loudly and hoping that Lucy got the message.

Inside, Abe looked like he was about to faint after staring at the photos Roman had shown him. Roman was doing his best to keep Abe calm, but his attention immediately turned to Ulyssa the moment the door closed.

“Why are you being such a bitch to Lucy?” Roman asked. He knew exactly why she was acting that way, but he was curious to hear her defense. “She has a lot on her plate right now, and she’s always been overprotective about Abe. You’re older and supposedly more mature than she is. It wouldn’t hurt if you started acting like it.”

Ulyssa sighed, and slumped grumpily onto the couch.

“She just knows how to push my buttons,” Ulyssa groaned. “She excels at provoking people. On top of that, I seem to be too inebriated to even begin start the teleportation spell, so cut me a little slack. I didn’t say anything untrue.”

“I should probably get Theo back to Mom before she storms over here looking for him,” Abe said. “I should probably sit her down and tell her about the photos leaking too before she sees them for herself.”

“Do you want me to come too?” Roman asked. He silently weighed his options in his head. Go be berated by Elaine while slightly drunk, or referee the ongoing war between Ulyssa and Lucy. Neither sounded appealing.

“No, Mom’s already mad at you about Theo,” Abe replied. “I think it’s probably for the best that I talk to her alone. Things might get awkward.”

“Take Lucy with you.please? I’ll try to settle...this.” Roman gestured vaguely at a still fuming Ulyssa and Abe nodded.

“Good luck.”

Once again, following Roman had proven to be extremely lucrative for Alex. She got pictures of future queen consort Ulyssa drunkenly belittling an Arkhelios citizen, while getting a little too close to an already scandalous ex fling. Both Helios siblings had looked worried upon stumbling across Roman and Ulyssa, which she could use to play up the drama and drive up prices.

Rose was the only person to see her mother skulking around with her camera. As usual, she didn’t even acknowledge that her children were there, and was only lurking nearby because her “story” was there. Rose wasn’t really sure who or what her mother was after, just that it wasn’t her and Cain. It was never her and Cain.

#ts2 #arkhelios #arkhelios university #abe chun #roman bellamy #ulyssa durant #lucy chun #alex munoz #sim: theo bellamy #sim: rose rivales

[timelordthirteen]

Desperate Souls 6/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit

Summary: A broke and heartbroken Belle French comes to an agreement with Mr. Gold to do a little modeling, just for him, in exchange for the money she desperately needs, but it isn’t long before they both realize they’ve made a deal they didn’t understand. Based on this prompt.

Chapter Summary: Another evening, another dinner, but this time Belle surprises Gold and herself.

Notes: IT HAS BEEN 84 YEARS. I am so sorry. Basically March and April were catastrophes, mostly of a work variety. A lot of things happened, I got super burned out, and I thought a lot about quitting my job. BUT... things are looking up significantly, and the muse is back. This is what Belle is wearing. ;)

[AO3]

Thursday evening, Belle arrived at ten minutes to six.

Gold seemed surprised when he opened the door, and she wondered if the events of the previous day, including their little tiff in his shop, had made him think she wasn’t coming for dinner. He was wearing a deep purple shirt, striped with a darker shade, and a plain tie in yet another purple tone. The look was topped off with a set of gold sleeve garters just above his elbows.

He’d held the door, taken her coat with little more than the usual Miss French, and guided her into the dining room, where he presented her with a plate of lamb chops and sizzled garlic, dressed with a mint and rosemary, chimichurri style sauce. To the side was a mix of roasted carrots and parsnips, sliced and blistered under the broiler, and tossed in the drippings from the lamb. It smelled amazing, and though she had initially thought the mint sauce would be too bold and overpowering, it melded perfectly with the earthy flavor of the lamb and vegetables. It was as if Gold was overtly trying to impress her with his prowess in the kitchen.

“Do you - like lamb?”

Belle looked up from her plate and blinked at him. “Um, yeah, yeah it’s good. The sauce especially.”

He nodded and stabbed his fork into the center of a carrot. “Good.”

She picked up her wine and took a long swallow as he focused back on his food. Perhaps she had made a mistake in coming over early and assuming that what had happened yesterday wasn’t going to affect anything. The silence lingered, broken awkwardly by the occasional scrape of silverware, and despite the food being delicious, she had barely eaten anything. Her stomach felt even more hollow than the first time she’d come over, and all she wanted was for the whole thing to be over so she could go home and ruminate on the mess her father was in.

She hadn’t quite sorted out what the hell to do about that situation, and though she didn’t know for sure where the money had gone, she worried that Moe had slipped back into the old, bad habits he had developed in the years after her mother died. They had been part of the reason for their move from California all the way to Maine. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t be pulled into that again, that she wouldn’t let his vices upend her life.

The abrupt sound of a fork clattering against a plate shook her from her rumination. She looked up to find Gold staring across the table at her, his silverware resting against the china, and his hands folded and held up in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply.

Belle’s head tilted slightly, and he sighed.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t let you know about the - situation - with your father.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I put the blame on you instead of where it should be, which is squarely on my father. The terms of his loan are between you and him, and probably confidential anyway.”

Gold lowered his hands and shifted in his seat. “Yes, but I still could have said something, perhaps hinted, or suggested that you speak to him about the loan for the flowers. Instead -”

It was her turn to sigh. “No, it’s fine, really I -” He held up a hand, and she stopped, her fingers twisting her napkin against her thigh.

“Let me finish,” he said softly. “My business with Moe, and my arrangement with you, are completely separate things as far as I’m concerned. One does not have any bearing on the other. I understand that isn’t the case for you, and that your father’s financial situation has possibly made yours worse.”

“Yeah...” She looked away, turning her gaze towards the living room doorway which had a view through to the front window. The porch lights illuminated the light snow that had started falling shortly after she arrived.

“As for your father not being truthful with you...” He trailed off and exhaled heavily.

She let out a humorless, scoffing laugh and glanced at Gold’s face before turning her gaze to her barely eaten meal. “It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last, sadly.”

He gave her a look that was as much a smile as it was a grimace. “It’s deplorable, and I’m sorry for that as well.”

Belle shook her head again. “It’s not your fault, but thank you. I should probably apologize as well.”

“What for?” He frowned and reached for his wine glass.

“For marching into your shop and yelling at you.”

He waved a hand and gave her a half smile before he sipped at his drink. “Consider it forgotten.”

She relaxed at his words, and the awkward tension that had been present since he had first opened the door faded as they went back to their meal and companionable small talk. She hadn’t expected him to apologize. He was known to do so rarely even when there might be blame to lay at his door, but in this case there was none at all, and yet he had seemed compelled to clear the air. To her surprise, he appeared genuinely contrite, and his concern for her situation with her father felt quite sincere.

Gold frowned over his glass as he watched Belle make a little grouping of carrots at one side of her plate. He was glad that they had resolved things between them, but not knowing what Moe French was doing with the money he’d borrowed was concerning. He presumed Belle still didn’t know either, or if she did that it was bad enough she would never say so. At this point, Gold would consider it a miracle if Moe managed to pay him back by the deadline he’d set. Given her current financial situation, helping to pay her father’s debt as well would only make things worse for the both of them.

He was mulling over how to handle that particular situation, when he noticed Belle was watching him. “Finished?”

She smiled and glanced down at her empty plate. “Yes, and it was amazing and delicious, as usual.”

He chuckled, secretly pleased by not only her praise, but also by her choice of words. As usual. There was something shared and familiar in that which he liked far more than he should.

Abruptly, Gold pushed back from the table, and Belle watched as he stood and began to clear the dishes. When he reached across for hers as well, she tried to catch his gaze, but he seemed to be focused on his task.

She stood as well, and eased her way towards the doorway to the living room, intending to take the long way around to the foyer and the small half bath where embarrassment inevitably awaited her. “I’ll um, just go and - and change.”

At that he paused, plates stacked, silverware crossed over the top. His shoulders moved slightly as he let out a breath, and then gave her a brief nod. It was the first time she’d actually said it out loud. Before it had always been the unspoken next step; he cleaned up from dinner, and she went to put on something scandalous. It was the thing they both knew was coming, yet seemed content to leave in a state of plausible deniability.

The closed door of the powder room loomed, and the flutters in her stomach increased with every step, until she almost stumbled through it. A faint gasp slipped out when she flipped the lights on and saw what Gold had left out for her to wear. She pushed the door closed with her weight as she leaned back against it, her eyes trailing over the sheer lace.

This piece happened to be one of her favorites; a lacy, flirty babydoll nightie in a deep purple with a matching panty. Belle took a breath and licked her lips, steeling her nerves as she shrugged off her cardigan and unbuttoned her blouse. A few minutes later, she was tugging the flimsiest pair of purple underwear up her legs, adjusting the thin elastic over her hips before regarding herself in the mirror.

The front of the garment was low, covering the majority of her breasts with a soft lace pattern, but leaving ample cleavage exposed all the way down to the ribbon where the seams met. There was no underwire, but the elastic that went around her chest combined with the cut of the fabric had a slight lifting effect, which in another circumstance might have pleased her, but in this felt like she was offering herself for something. The fabric was even more see-through now that she had it on, and she was thankful that the lighting in the study was soft and dark.

The lower half of the nightie overlapped in the front, and fell in soft pleats above a wide strip of lace near the bottom. The overall effect made it slightly less sheer, but still transparent enough to reveal where the panties did and didn’t cover her. She turned around and looked over her shoulder to see that the hem ended just passed her backside, and swallowed hard.

Facing the mirror again, she braced on the wall and wiggled her feet back into her strappy black heels. She had decided when she was changing clothes after work that she was tired of walking around in bare feet in Gold’s house, and black heels went with nearly everything.

As she was about to exit the powder room, a thought occurred to her. It seemed almost certain now that Gold was working his way towards more and more revealing items, pushing her limits one week at a time. Perhaps she could push back.

Belle smiled to herself as her eyes perused the floor to ceiling bookshelves. Towards the top she could see wide, hefty tomes that reminded her of the encyclopedias she’d grown up with in school, before the days of Wikipedia and Google. Down at a more reachable level, there was a row of well worn volumes, and she touched the spines as her gaze took them in. He had several limited and first editions the likes of which she’d only had access to because she’d worked in libraries, yet here they were one shelf above more contemporary titles. He seemed to have everything from murder mysteries to classic poetry, and her smile grew as her fingers brushed over every published Bronte sister.

Shifting to her right, she came to stand next to the case with the kintsugi tea set, and a strange, warm feeling washed over her as she gave it a fond glance. Above the case however, was something quite unexpected. She’d initially thought it was an art piece, but now that she was truly looking and taking it in, it appeared to be a page from a manuscript in a gothic style lettering. Her eyes scanned the words, going wide as she realized what she was looking at. The title, the bold capital letter surrounded by scripted decoration, the odd, 17th century English spellings...

“I was wondering how long it would take you to notice it.”

Gold’s voice startled her, and she gaped at him for a long moment before her eyes drifted back to the framed page. “Is that from -?”

“From a 1611 King James version of the Bible?” he finished for her, sauntering into the room with a bemused smirk.

Belle blinked. “Yes?”

He flashed his teeth and came to stand beside her, his cane planted in front of him and his hands folded calmly over the handle. “Yes.”

His voice was soft and almost reverent as he looked up, and she gave him a brief glance before skimming the words on the page, her mind automatically adjusting to the strange letters as she read.

“The Apocrypha?” she asked.

Gold smiled crookedly. “Yes, again. I’m surprised you recognized it, considering it’s not the the title page.”

She shrugged, and looked at him, her lips curving. “I have an affinity for the texts that were removed from the Bible. And other religious books too. I always wanted to know what the powers that be didn’t want people to know.”

Her gaze moved back to the page, while his stayed fixed on her, watching the quirk of her lips as she read the words again.

“You were the kid that read all the banned books, weren’t you,” he said, finally.

Belle bit her lip and grinned at him. “I considered it a matter of pride to read all of them as soon as I learned there was such a thing. It’s why I became a librarian. I wanted to make sure that people could always find them if they wanted to.” She looked up, nodded her head towards the Bible page. “There’s always a reason a book ends up on that list, something that makes the man say you shouldn’t read it, and most of the time it’s precisely the reason you should.”

After a pause, she met his eyes and shrugged. “You disagree?”

He shook his head slowly, somehow managing a reply through the dazed fog in his head. “No, no. Quite the opposite.”

He had meant to tease her, and to distract himself from looking too long at what she was wearing, but her response was so earnest, and so well matched to his own thoughts on the matter, that he could do nothing except hold her in even more esteem than he already did. It was another sign that his plan was failing miserably, and yet he refused to be the one to end their deal. He was certain that there would come a point where her sensibilities would get the better of her, pushing her to refuse the silent request hanging in the powder room, and that, combined with whatever disaster was brewing with her father, would be the end of it. He need only be patient.

She looked away and shifted from one foot to the other, temporarily relieving the pressure on her toes. Her shoes were starting to pinch, but the strange, post-dinner conversations she kept having with Gold gave an air of comfortable intimacy to the moment that she didn’t want to dispel. He seemed as surprised by her answers as she was by all the books and objects he’d collected. The pawn shop had always been an eclectic mix of things, which she’d attributed to the nature of the business, but she now suspected it was entirely due to the eclectic inclinations of its owner. Inclinations which only made her want to know more about each one of his possessions, and Gold too, if she was honest.

Abruptly, Belle turned, blowing out a quiet breath as she crossed to the bar next to the fireplace. Behind her, she heard the thump of Gold’s cane, and looked back at him with as much of a smile as she could manage through her nerves.

“Why don’t you sit down,” she said, “and I’ll get your drink.”

Gold blinked at her, his head tilting slightly, before he nodded, and by the time she was done filling the glass with scotch, he was seated in his usual place. She took her time replacing the bottle on the shelf, and then pivoted slowly on her heel, smirking inwardly as she walked towards him.

He was noticeably off kilter, if his wide eyes and white knuckle grip on the arm of the chair was anything to go by, and she decided at the last second to push the envelope. She came close to the right arm of the chair, a hair’s breadth from his hand, and leaned forward ever so slightly to set the glass down on the side table. It was an unnecessary motion that served only to give him a full look at her breasts, but the way his lips parted, and the faint intake of air, sent a tingle down her spine. She returned to her usual spot by the end of the ottoman, and turned around all the way, once, before facing him again and letting him look.

Gold had no idea what was happening. His head felt almost dizzy, and he was vaguely aware that he’d lost control of the evening. She had been so close only a moment ago, her bare thigh a whisper from his fingers, her chest filling his vision for too brief a time. The glow of the fire had illuminated her as she turned and moved to stand by the ottoman, her silhouette leaving nothing to the imagination through the sheer fabric.

She stood still as he openly looked her up and down, and then, without a word or gesture from him, she turned slowly for a second time. He could feel his body react as the hem danced against her backside, and he reached for the glass of scotch, taking a quick sip to calm himself.

Belle found herself oddly amused as she watched Gold take a second gulp of his drink. She’d wrested back a little bit of control, and it had clearly surprised him even more than she’d intended. After a few seconds, he sent the glass aside, and she felt the weight of his gaze settle on her once more. It wasn't lecherous or discomfiting, as she thought it might feel were it anyone else. Instead it made her feel - warm.

“Thank you, Miss French.”

She gave him a small smile, and left to change, but something was different, she was different. She had put Mr. Gold on his back foot, something which few, if any, in Storybrooke could claim. The bathroom door closed, and she kicked off her heels, giving her feet some much needed relief on her way to leaning over the sink. She let out a slow breath and looked up, meeting her own gaze in the mirror and shaking her head.

The way he had looked at her, both when she was going on about banned books, and when she was modeling for him, gave her an unexpected rush. It was - intoxicating - and she was surprised to discover that she liked it. There was something powerful about what she’d done, owning the moment, and leaving no room for the usual embarrassment or awkwardness. A smile crept over her face as she remembered leaning towards him and the sensation that had come over her.

She shivered and rubbed her arms as she straightened, then set about changing back into her clothes. The babydoll was left on the same hanger on which she’d found it, panties included, which felt just a little bit dirty and wrong. Before she stepped back into the hallway, she looked back at it, wondering if she should take it with her or not. So far she’d chosen to leave each item behind, not wanting to take home something that had made her feel so uncomfortable to wear. She didn’t dwell on what he might do with them afterwards, but this piece, and this night were so different that she was almost sad to be leaving it.

Gold was waiting for her by the front door, holding a plastic container. She frowned and then realized it was leftovers from dinner.

“You didn’t need to,” she said, but he only shrugged in response as he handed it over.

The prospect of a second helping of a delicious meal made her smile, but it faded quickly when the yellow envelope came into view. He held that out for her as well, a simple, nondescript thing, but bulging a bit to one side where the money was tucked. It had dulled her good mood with the reminder of what their deal was all about. Still, she managed to thank him, awkwardly, and he bid her good night.

He waited by the door until she was out of sight, swallowed up by the late winter shadows, and then made his way to the powder room. Sighing, he reached for the hanger, and the lingerie that she had once again discarded. It wasn’t part of the deal in any way, but his assumption that she would want the items back, was obviously wrong. She probably saw them as even more tainted than when the fiancé she'd bought them for left her flat broke.

Upstairs, Gold made his way down the long hall to his bedroom, feeling the telltale ache in his bad leg from too many hours on his feet. Moving around the kitchen to make a rather complex dinner had been the last thing he’d needed to do after standing most of the day at the shop, rearranging a couple of the display cases, but it was worth it. Belle had enjoyed the meal, and they had cleared the air between them, at least somewhat.

He stepped into the walk-in closet, passing the neat row of suit jackets and trousers, and the angled shelves of polished dress shoes, to a short hanging area at the back wall. The hook of the hanger made a light clank as it went over the bar, and he sighed. The purple nightie swayed for a few seconds before the fabric stilled, hanging next to the two other items abandoned by Miss French.

Hesitantly, he reached out and touched the black chemise from her first visit, drawing the silk between his fingertips. Swallowing hard, his hand brushed the softness of the pink nightie, up and down with the back of his hand from hem to the edge of the lacy cups and back again. There was another pause before he slipped his hand under the sheer purple fabric from this evening, seeing for himself how transparent it truly was, and recalling once more the shape of her in the firelight. It was still slightly warm, and he sucked in a breath, catching a hint of her lingering scent.

His eyes closed as he inhaled again, and though there was no need for a cold shower tonight, he had begun to consider the fact that he may have made a deal he didn’t understand.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #belle x mr. gold #lemon fic #(eventually) #my rumbelle fic #fic #desperate souls

[imagine-a-fangirl]

Anon requested: Can I suggest a Viktor Krum x female!reader where they lost contact after the second wizard war? Just something cute :)

A/N: Hi everyone, welcome to my getting back to writing week. Ofcourse I didn’t manage to get this under 400 words... so it’s a little over a 1000. Still I hope you guys enjoy, it’s not my best but I’m glad I got something done since a long time!

It had been years since y/n had seen him. He had taken her to the yule ball where they danced all night and they had written letters for some time. They had a last dance at Bill and Fleurs wedding, but after the abrupt ending the two didn’t speak or saw each other again. After Hogwarts y/n worked with the ministry for a while and she was able to travel the world. That was until she finally decided to settle down at her favorite place close to her friends. Y/n had had enough excitement during her life so far and so she started a small bookstore slash coffeeshop.  Both Muggles and wizards and witches were more than welcome. From the first weeks it had been crowded and soon enough y/n had her regular customers and even a port key to London. 

“Are you sure you don’t need any more help y/n?” Tiana asked her for the third time. The morning rush had been far worse than it usually was, the cups were all over the place. “Don’t worry about it, I got it.” Y/n assured her “I’m already glad you could help me out.” “Just call me if you need my help again.” She grabbed her bag and jacket from the back. “I already offered you a job, but you keep refusing it.” “I love you dearly y/n, but I don’t think either of us would be happy if I did take the offer.” “You are probably right.”   Y/n was gathering the final pieces the trash when she saw a man entering the shop “I’ll be right with you sir.” She told him and quickly put the trash outside and cleaned her hands. “What can I…” But when she turned around the man had already left. It wasn’t the first time it happened there were often impatient wizards who wanted to get to London and nothing more.  As the day continued y/n didn’t thought of it anymore, until the next day it looked like she saw the same man but this time through her window shop, but the moment he noticed her staring he took off. Y/n quickly went outside but the man was once again gone. “What were you off to?” Jake asked from behind the counter “Did you see that man too?” “What man?” “Come on Jake, don’t do that to me. You’re making me question my sanity.” Y/n continued stocking the books on the shelves. “You have been making long days, maybe it’s time to take a day off.” He urged “And leave you in charge all day? Not a chance.” “Suit yourself.” He helped the next customer before continuing their conversation “Who do you think you saw?” “Just someone I used to date.”   “Ohh do tell.” He placed two cups of coffee on the table and urged her to stop stocking the books “Muggle or Wizard?” “Wizard?” “Do I know him?” “Probably yes, it’s Viktor Krum.” Jake nearly spit his coffee over the table “You dated Viktor Krum?!” “A little louder please, I don’t think they heard you at Hogwarts.” She tried to dim him down a bit and explained what happened between them. “Why did you never write to him again?” “I don’t know.” She told him honest “I could hang up the excuse of work getting in the way, but I think I was just too scared that we had grown apart to much.” “Who knows this might be your chance to get him back.” “Or I’m actually hallucinating.” Their day continued like any other but the thought of Viktor didn’t leave y/n for a moment. When she closed up the shop she couldn’t help herself, she double checked for muggle before taking her wand out “Appare Vestigium.” The gold swirl revealed a number of footprints but also a pair of footprints in front of the window she had seen him. A moment of hesitation didn’t stop her from making sure she wasn’t going insane “Revelio.” The image was vague but she could tell it had been Viktor that was standing in front of her window. “Why couldn’t you just come and say hello.” She whispered to herself. “Because I didn’t know if you wanted to see me.” The low voice startled her and made her quickly turn her around. “Viktor.” y/n gasped, she couldn’t believe he was actually standing in front of her “Goodevening y/n.” He took her hand and pressed a soft kiss on it. “I’m sorry if I startled you.” She was hardly able to get her thoughts straight “How are you here?” She was able to stammer “Your shop is quite famous, I just had to see if it was actually you.” His accent was not as thick as it had been back at Hogwarts, but his face although older had hardly changed “Not that I’m surprised, I always knew you were meant to do great things.” “I’m not the one who did great things, you are the famous quidditch player.” She had recovered a bit “Can.. can I hug you?” She was still in bit of disbelieve. “Of course.” His embrace was strong, they hadn’t spend long together but the embrace still felt familiar. “It’s been too long y/n.” he told her when she let go off him. “It has been.” She agreed “Could I take you out to dinner? We have a lot to talk about.” Viktor invited her “I would like that.” y/n agreed. The spend the whole night recollecting their shared  memories and catching each other up on their lives. But not a word was said about their sudden stop of contact, neither of them felt the need to ruin their current mood. After dinner Viktor walked y/n back to her apartment, a soft breeze send a shiver down her spine, Viktor pulled of his jacket and hang it over her shoulders. His fingers brushed against her own as they walked further, the urge to take his hand was big but she moved her hand away when he tried to take it. “Don’t you think we should talk about the elephant in the room?” She tried “I’d rather keep that for later and enjoy this moment right here.” He took her hand and pressed another soft kiss on her fingers.

#viktor krum imagine #viktor krum x reader #harry potter imagine #imagine harry potter #harry potter and the goblet of fire imagine #viktor krum #getting back to writing week #1 out of 7

[baby-blossoms]

Protective

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1696

Summary/Request: could you possibly do a sam x reader fic where sam is really protective to the reader even with dean or cas idk why i just love really love protective relationship tingz but please take your time and focus on your school work, I hope your have an amazing week ❤️

Warnings: None really, Sam is just protective

---

       You, Sam, Dean, and Cas all sat in a diner near the motel you were staying at during your upcoming hunt. Sam was typing away at his laptop, not stopping his research on this particularly hard case for a moment. Dean and Cas chattered to each other off and on while Dean practically made love with a huge greasy burger, and you sat and watched people walking by outside of the window. People watching was something you did often when Sam was busy. You usually didn’t get along too well with Dean, so people watching kept you thoroughly entertained for the time being. Conversation between you and Dean wasn’t worth the struggle and inevitable disagreement, and trying to talk to Cas with Dean near him was like trying to get a puppy to listen while someone else was dangling a treat in front of them.  

    “You okay?”

Sam asked in almost a whisper. You jolted out of your thoughts, bringing your focus to Sam. You had strained your neck and left shoulder pretty badly fighting off a vampire during your last hunt and Sam kept continuously checking to make sure you were really okay.

    Your heart always jumped at the sight of him. His wide hazel eyes were warm and filled with love and concern.

    “Yes, I was just watching people walk by.”

You responded quickly. Placing a hand on top of his, you smiled as he took it and gave it a soft squeeze before letting go. 

    Years ago, Sam had found you half-dead in a witch’s house. He and Dean hadn’t thought twice about saving you. Sam had nursed you back to health himself, and being a stereotypical romantic story of the two of you coming together, you fell in love with him fast and hard. It was almost amusing how surprised and slightly offended Dean had been when you didn’t swoon over his cheesy pickup lines and signature smile once you were up and hunting with them. Your attention was always drawn back to Sam, even in the middle of conversations with Dean. Sam was so soft with you, often reassuring you that you were the only girl he had eyes for, but his mood would quickly change the moment any man tried to take you home. A very protective side of him came out, and they were met with glares and sharp replies as Sam practically carried you away from them.

    “What do ya’ say we go to a bar tonight?” Dean asked abruptly. Apparently, his and Castiel’s conversation had ended, and he glanced eagerly between you and Sam, practically begging you to say yes with his eyes.

    “Why?” 

You asked, genuinely confused as to why Dean was inviting you anywhere when the both of you said no more than often.

    “Come on sweetheart, you both need some loosening up. Maybe you won’t be so uptight if we get a few drinks in you.”

    You glared at Dean for a moment. Dean seemed to love throwing that word around, especially because he knew how much it got on your nerves. 

    “I’m not uptight.”

You replied before taking a sip of your drink.

    “Then come to the bar with me tonight.”

Dean challenged with a smirk. You took in a deep breath, trying to keep your language in check in such a public environment, but your response was cut short when Sam slammed his laptop shut. 

    “First of all, Dean, don’t call her sweetheart. Second of all, she doesn’t have to prove anything to you by going to a sleazy bar just to get hit on by every man in the damn place.”

You held back a laugh, simply taking another drink of your coffee. 

    “How about we make her wear a big flashing sign that says ‘Property of Sam Winchester.”

Dean said, shaking his head at his brother. 

    “Dean.” You said sternly before Sam could reply. You could see genuine anger igniting in his eyes. “I’ll- Sam and I will both go tonight if it will shut you up for once.”

Dean gave you a delighted smile, then quickly got up from the table.

    “Oh, you are not ready for a night out with me, toots. I’ll get your sign ready.”

    You heard Sam huff angrily as Dean left with Cas following awkwardly behind. 

    “Look, I know you don’t like bars that much, but this will shut him up for at least a little while. Plus we’ll be there together, so it’s not like anything bad will happen.” 

Sam hummed, acknowledging that he had heard you but still wasn’t very happy about going to the bar.

    “Come on, baby,” you sighed, getting up and kissing him softly on the cheek, “it might be fun, you know?”

    Sam looked at you, his expression softening before he gently kissed you back. He shook his head with a slight chuckle and got up from the table, getting ready to head back to the hotel with you.

    “I just hate how people talk to you when we go out. It makes me uncomfortable, so I can’t even begin to imagine how you feel…” He trailed off, eyeing you for a moment before letting in, “Being around you is always fun, though.”

You quickly replied,

    “You’re damn right it is.”

----

    You had changed into a y/f/c dress that fit you in all the right places, and you stood checking your appearance in the mirror when Sam walked in.

    “Hey, beautiful.”

He greeted you with a smile. You grinned back at him, laughing as he took your hand and slowly spun you in a circle, leading you with the arm that wouldn’t hurt your shoulder. He pulled you back into his arms and peppered your face with kisses, making you melt into a fit of laughter, your heart filled to the brim with love for him. 

    “Well hey there, handsome.” 

You purred, returning his kisses softly. 

    The sweet moment between the two of you was interrupted by the abrupt appearance of Castiel.

    “Sam, Dean sent me to tell you…” he cleared his throat, saying the next few words in a questionable impression of Dean’s voice, “hurry the hell up lovebirds.”

You laughed lightly, responding lightheartedly,

    “Thanks, Cas. Next time can you just knock before you come in though?”

Castiel looked to you and glanced back toward the hotel room door.

    “Oh. Yes… Sorry.” He paused for a moment, watching silently as Sam walked toward the bedside table to grab his phone, then looking back to you. You watched his eyes trail down your figure for a moment, then reconnecting your gaze.

    “That dress is very beautiful on you, Y/n. I’m sure you will get a lot of free drinks tonight.” 

    He said. You laughed, thinking back to when Dean had explained the free drinks that kept appearing before you the last time you all had gone to a bar.

    “Thank you Castiel, that’s very sweet of you to say.”

You replied, holding back further laughter at the compliment. Cas nodded, closing the awkward distance between the two of you so you weren’t talking across the room. 

    “I could also ease your pain if you would like.”

Cas said, smiling softly. 

    “Oh, you don’t have to do that, Cas. It’s just a little bit of a sprain or something, I’m fine though.”

Cas tilted his head at you, expressing his doubt clearly before stating.

    “Y/n, you have obviously been avoiding using your left arm, and you can barely turn your head. Healing you would be more of a convenience than a hindrance to me. You can’t defend yourself in this state.”

You frowned, knowing he was right, and nodded slightly, flinching at the pain that stabbed at your neck when you did.

    Castiel softly placed two fingers on your forehead. You closed your eyes, sighing in relief as the pain nagging at you washed away easily. 

    “Is that better?”

He asked, moving his hand to gently press at the muscles in your neck. 

    “Yes, thank you so much, Cas. You really didn’t need to use any energy on me, though.”

Cas chuckled, smiling in amusement.

    “Y/n, that isn’t necessarily how healing works, but either way, you are welcome.”

You smiled at him, nodding.

    “You think her shoulder is fine, Cas? Or do you wanna keep rubbing it?”

Sam’s voice interjected sarcastically. Cas’s hand shot away from your shoulder and he looked to Sam quickly.

    “I’m sorry if I offended you, Sam.”

He said without hesitation. 

    You laughed, shaking your head at Sam. 

    “Cas please go tell Dean we’ll be right there.”

You said softly, gesturing to the neighboring room. Cas nodded, disappearing a short short moment later.

    “Sam, I’m pretty sure Cas means no harm. You don’t have to get so protective with him and Dean.”

Sam let out a small cynical laugh.

    “Y/n, I know my brother. He wouldn’t help you cheat, but I know how he thinks and how he looks at you when he thinks I’m not looking. I absolutely need to be protective of you with him.”

Sam said quickly. You raised an eyebrow at him.

    “Okay fine, but Cas?”

Sam frowned, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

    “Okay maybe it was a little unnecessary. I’m sorry, I just love you and it sounds stupid but I’m always scared someone’s going to steal you from me, or worse, hurt you when I’m not around to protect you.”

You smiled softly at him, 

    “Sam, I’ve been beaten and bruised and scratched and bitten by every huge, ugly, smelly, disgusting, and outright dreadful monster you could imagine. Do you think I couldn’t handle some run of the mill horny asshole? Do you really think any man could steal me away? I’m in love with you, Sam. There’s no need to worry about me.”

    Sam walked toward you, giving you a soft kiss.

    “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

He said with a soft sigh, pulling you into his arms.

    “You saved my life.”

You replied softly, leaning your head against his chest. Sam held you tighter, kissing the top of your head.

    “No, I think you saved mine.”

#sam winchester x reader #supernatural #sam winchester #sam winchester fic #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #superwholock #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #castiel #castiel fic #castiel fanfiction #castiel fanfic