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wearywinchester · 1 year

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Wrong Turn

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When a fight with Dean leads you to take a breather, what was supposed to be a quick walk turns into something more.

Requested by Anonymous: “Hi <3 Can you write a Dean x Reader, they are in a relationship but they have a nasty fight one night, reader goes outside for a walk to take a breath but there is a storm and it's raining bad and she just gets lost and Dean freaks out when she doesn't come back? Angst and fluff please.”

Warnings: angst, arguing, swearing, mentions of blood, injury, anxiety, fluff

Tempers were well beyond their limit, a seemingly ongoing theme of the entirety of that day, stretching all the way through to that evening. Dean’s anger was never a surprise, not when it came to those that he held closest to himself. He can’t help it, never could. He gets himself so tightly wound with the ever growing desire to keep everyone safe, to keep everyone no further than arms length. He gets himself so worked up that he bursts, let’s that anger gush out of him in bouts of swearing and strings of words he almost always regrets later.

Tonight was no exception, not even close. It just might’ve been the worst fight the two of you have had in quite some time.

“I can’t believe you,” Dean says behind you, the motel door slamming shut faster than you can turn around to see him shove it closed with his boot.

“Believe what, that I did my job?” You say.

He was fuming, you could hear it in his voice. It was gruff and his words were sharp, an edge to it that wasn’t present most of the time. There was no humor, voice of that sweeter side you’ve always loved. It was filled with anger and frustration, deepened with irritation.

He chuckled, empty and humorless at the words that fell from your mouth and into the tense space. Did your job. To him, that was quite possibly the most ridiculous thing you could’ve ever said in your life given the context. The stupidest even.

That chuckle was so beyond bitter as he looked at you with a narrowed stare, those beautiful green eyes the angriest you’d ever seen them. Not at all soft as they most often were, not at all gazing at you with an adoration you can never ever fathom comes from looking at you. That loving gaze is replaced with the utmost of frustration as he stares you down, brows knit together.

“Doing your job? That’s what you’re calling it?” He says, laughter in his words as he tosses his duffel bag on the bed harshly, some of its contents spilling out of the half zippered opening. “Since when is putting your ass on the line to lore a damn monster a ten times stronger than you doing your job?”

You roll your eyes at his words, at the way he raised his voice. You wanted to say you couldn’t believe what you were hearing but that’d be a lie. It was Dean Winchester after all, you expected it.

“We hunt monsters for a living, Dean. Did you think I was just going to sit back and watch it kill somebody else? You would’ve done the same thing if I didn’t beat you to it,” you argue.

His cheeks were tinged a soft shade of pink, only making the freckles spattered on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose all the more noticeable. Dean doesn’t flush, not unless he’s angry, not unless he’s pissed. And there he stands, pink and rosy with his jaw tensed as tight as ever as he looks at you, looks at you till he can’t anymore in an effort to calm himself down.

“I wouldn’t do something that damn stupid,” he says, his gaze returning to you.

“You would and you have, Dean, don’t give me that,” you say, watching his top lip quiver in anger. “Every hunt you do something reckless and stupid and everyone’s supposed to be okay with your self sacrificing way of handling things because you think you’re doing what’s best. You always put your ass on the line in a million and one different ways, but when I do it it’s stupid? That’s a load of crap and you know it, Dean.”

You’ve raised your own voice now, watching his chest rise and fall heavier and heavier as he wipes his hand over his mouth.

“Y/n—”

“No, tell me, Dean. How is that fair?”

“You don’t—”

“How is it fair, Dean?” You’re damn near yelling, body tense and the pit of your stomach filled with a heat that travels to your cheeks, burning hot as you swim in your anger.

“You can’t just go running around painting yourself as bait every chance you get. You don’t know what the hell you’re getting into, and you damn sure don’t know what you’re doing,” he counters, his gaze unwavering.

“Don’t know what I’m doing? I’ve been in this nightmare of a gig just as long as you have, and I’m still swingin’. Don’t you dare say that I don’t know what I’m doing,” you say.

You’re livid, cheeks on fire as you stare him down, finally thinking to release the handles of your duffel bag that’d been trapped within the tightness of your grasp long enough for your hand to be sweaty, long enough that your fingernails left crescent shaped indentations on your palm.

“God, do you even hear yourself when you talk, Y/n?” There’s that bitter laugh again, humorless as he rubs his hand down his face.

Now it’s your turn to laugh, an action that pulls his gaze back to you.

“Then maybe you should look in the mirror, Dean. Tempting your own fate and looking death right in the face seems to be your thing,” you retort, watching his brows scrunch even tighter together.

His lips part, finger raising to point at you with a slight tremble before it drops back to his side and he’s almost at a loss for words. Almost, as he shakes his head.

“You know what, Y/n? I’m not the one with a damn gash on my forehead. I’m not the one walking around with a torn off piece of my flannel tied around my hand to stop the bleeding. I’m not the one walking around, doing a piss poor job hiding a freaking limp because I’m too damn proud to admit I did something stupid. So tell me, Y/n, is it really just my thing?”

Your chest was heaving at this point, whole body trembling with adrenaline as you stare up at him with as much anger as you could muster. You could feel that strain in your throat, that horrid soreness that came with the ever difficult battle to keep that lump from rising and allowing your voice to break. That stupid lump that accompanied the tears that pressed so adamantly behind your eyes that it burned, that it stung.

He had you angry, blood boiling as you stood there in front of him. He was no different, standing there with a jaw clenched so tightly you thought his teeth would damn near crack. He had a certain anger in his eyes, anger mixed with something you couldn’t quite place as you stared him down for as long as you could muster.

He always knew how to poke and prod, get under your skin. He was stubborn more than anyone you’d ever known, probably more than anyone that could exist. He was Dean Winchester.

“You’re a dick, Dean,” you say, all the venom and hurt you can muster in those four words. As much as you could even though it felt like your throat was on fire. Felt as though barbed wire was woven around it from all the built up pressure of the tears you’re trying to hold back to keep him from seeing.

There’s that laugh again, that same bitter laugh as he hears your words.

“Yeah? You act like you’re so tough, Y/n, like you’re the best damn hotshot hunter there is. You act like you know everything and you sure as hell don’t so get off your damn high horse before you do something even more stupid and get yourself dead.”

He was shouting by this point, brows knit and eyes narrowed as he stared at you with twice the anger than a minute ago and he was only met with the same look. The very same apart from the welled up tears and the wobbly lip you sunk your teeth into to try and hide it the very best you could. You couldn’t.

You couldn’t keep your facade up, not in front of him. You never could. It was damn near impossible as you stood there until you couldn’t anymore, spinning on your heel. You brushed past him, shoulder bumping him and nearly throwing you off balance as you head for the motel door.

“Where are you going?” He asks, his tone incredulous.

“Away from you. What’s it look like?”

You grab the door handle and can hear him scoff as you swing it open and at first he doesn’t think you’re serious, not as he chuckles and shakes his head, maybe to egg you on even.

He doesn’t think you’re serious even as you slam the door shut behind you, and maybe not even for a few minutes after that. But after that few minutes it doesn’t seem so funny anymore, it never did, especially not when you didn’t walk right back in. He doesn’t think it’s funny when he swings that motel door right back open to find the parking lot empty, the Impala void of your presence—to find you nowhere to be seen.

He stands there for a moment with a clenched jaw, anger pulsing through him that’s rapidly redirecting towards himself. But he simply steps back into the room and slams the door shut behind him so hard it rattled. Ran his hands through his hair and drug them down his face.

But he doesn’t move, too steeped in his own anger to go on after you as you walked along by yourself in an effort to cool yourself down.

It was cold out, that steady drizzle still coming down but bearable enough to keep on walking away from that motel and away from the man that’s got you all fired up.

Your cheeks were heated and your heart was still pounding. That horrible pressure behind your eyes of unshed tears had finally broken loose, hot tears rolling and mixing with chilly raindrops on your skin. Your face was scrunched in a way you couldn’t help even if you tried as you let them out, frustratedly wiping them away as if there was still a chance of the older Winchester seeing them.

You loved him, but god, you hated him sometimes. He was too protective for his own good, too angry. He’s got you so wound up you don’t know whether to scream, cry, or never turn back to that motel room again. Or perhaps all three. But you know you’d never actually run off. That may be exactly what you’re doing right now but you’d always find your way back to him.

He’s got a heart of gold but you’re too damn pissed to want to think about that right now.

He’s in that room by himself, Sam in the room next door. He’s in that room stewing in anger and regret for the things he’d said out of that anger. He’s beating himself up for that unshakable habit of saying things he comes to regret. He wants to rip that motel room apart, wants to go looking for you. He wants to do it all but instead he sits on the edge of that squeaky motel bed for a matter of seconds before he gets right back up again, splashing his face off with cool water in the bathroom sink. But instead he stays in that motel room, his remaining anger leaving him spiteful before that guilt trickles in.

It’s cold, damn it’s cold as you walk along the tattered sidewalk. The pavement is cracked and crumbling away at the edges, gravel spilling over from old parking lots you pass by. You’ve got no idea where you’re going, and no idea where you are. Of course you don’t, you’ve never been to this town in your entire life and it’s near in the middle of nowhere.

You were wandering around this little town and it quickly began to feel not so little as you continued on in a direction that surely wasn’t towards that motel.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute and you were almost too angry to care about your surroundings. So worked up that you felt damn near invincible, didn’t really care about any threats because that anger was enough of a driving force to keep you safe.

But that couldn’t be farther from the truth, not even a little. Because deep down, under all that anger, you realized maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

He’s an idiot. He’s such a damn idiot that you almost couldn’t bear it. He always did this. He always tried to bench you, to hold you back on hunts. He always tried to jump in and save the day, always stole your thunder. He treated you like some rookie hunter that constantly needs a watchful eye, that constantly needs to be supervised like you don’t know what your doing. He acts like you’re some rookie hunter that couldn’t go two seconds on their own without getting into some life threatening situation.

He acts like it’s the end of the world when you step in, when you do something risky for the sake of keeping people safe. He blows it so far out of proportion, makes it seem like you couldn’t possibly do anything more stupid when he does the same and more. He does the very same every single time without second thought, but when you do it, there’s no greater crime to commit than doing your job.

He was so hypocritical it drove you insane.

You were a mess of emotions, fury and upset knotted in the pit of your stomach. It burned and it sat heavy, made you want to scream till your throat was sore. But you decided against it, didn’t want to draw attention to yourself more than you already felt you were as you walked alone through the empty street.

Your chest felt tight, your frustration having you ready to burst and that even felt like it wouldn’t be relieving enough. It felt like your emotions were too big for you to handle.

You were angry, you were pissed. You felt everything all at once, all of it as the wind picked up. It was more than noticeable as the gusts took your breath away for a moment, distracting you for just a second.

You knew the weather was bound to worsen, you saw the flashes of lightning beyond the street lights. You heard the low rumble of the thunder that followed it. It wasn’t until the drizzle of rain picked up to a steady pour that the storm you knew was brewing was fully there. You were caught outside and damn near lost in the middle of a freaking storm.

Unbeknownst to you, Dean was worried, of course he was. He’d be worried even if there wasn’t a stupid storm letting loose.

God, you hated him sometimes, but you loved him too.

You were stubborn as hell, stubborn enough to let yourself walk along a bit further and doom yourself even more. To keep on going and getting yourself even more lost and upset as the tears on your cheeks mixed with the rain. You walked until you wore yourself down and it took some doing, your anger took some work to wear away as you stomped along.

You walked until you gave in, till you caved.

It’d been who knows how long as you ducked under the overhang of a small store, digging in your pocket for your phone.

12:47 am.

It’d been forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes of stubborn spite and being far too angry for your own good. Of being so stuck in your own head you didn’t stop yourself from getting into danger, but maybe that’s just what you do.

You held your phone with a shaky, wet hand, scrolling through your contacts before highlighting Dean’s name. Just the sight of it had your stomach churning, that burst of emotions flooding through you but you hit call anyway, pressing the phone to your ear.

It rang once, twice…

“Hello?”

No matter how angry you were, you couldn’t deny the rush of relief that washed over you at the sound of his voice.

You didn’t answer right away, a few quiet moments passing.

“Dean—”

“Y/n, where the hell are you?”

“Hello to you too,” you say, and you didn’t even need to see him to know he wasn’t amused.

“Now’s not the time for games,” he says.

“Like you care,” you mutter, more to yourself than anything but he still heard it.

“I called you seven freaking times, Y/n. Don’t tell me that crap,” he says, and you can hear the sheer anger and frustration in his voice, a little impatience mixed in there too.

You pull the phone away for a second, catching that number seven right beside his name. Dammit.

You simply sigh, get all quiet for a moment or two as you stand there with your free arm wrapped around yourself, foot tapping against the wet ground.

“Y/n, where are you?” He reiterates.

You’re still quiet for a second, biting your cheek.

“I don’t know,” you admit softly, swallowing.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” He says incredulously.

“I mean I don’t know, Dean. We’re in a town we’ve never been before in the freaking boonies, what do you think?” You say louder, quieting back down and shrinking back against the wall at your outburst, trying to hide from any unwanted attention.

“Landmarks, Y/n, gimme landmarks,” he says, tone a little softer.

You hum softly as your eyes dart around, searching for the most helpful piece of information you could find.

“Dave’s. Dave’s Bar. Uh…a diner across from it too,” you say, wincing at the sudden crack of thunder.

“I’m on the way. And please, for the love of god, stay put. Don’t go wanderin’ around or I swear I’m gonna freakin’ lose my damn mind,” he says.

“Dean, I—”

There were those three beeps, those familiar three beeps followed by the stupid dead battery symbol. That fear in the pit of your stomach heightened, and you’re banking on Dean’s ability to find his way around because there’s no way in hell you’re stepping foot into that bar to use the phone. That just might be the stupidest thing you could do second to walking out here in anger by yourself in the first place.

That familiar sense of panic settles deep within you, heavy as you bite the inside of your cheek. In a matter of seconds you quickly find that you no longer wanted to storm off and go wherever your feet take you. You no longer wanted to walk farther away, not even a single step. You wanted to do none of that.

You wanted to be inside that Impala where you know it’s safe, hell, you wanted to be in his arms because that’s even safer. But instead you’re stuck outside in dodgy weather all by yourself, with no one to blame but yourself.

You had entirely no idea how far you were from that motel room, let alone where exactly you were. It could have been a much shorter drive for Dean than it was a walk for you, it had to be. But then again, you guys were in a town you’ve never been to, and he could only guess based off the information you gave him.

Worry ran circles in your mind, lap after lap that he wouldn’t find you, not for a while. Or even worse, that by the time he did, you’d have been snatched up by a crazy monster or an even crazier human being.

It made that dizzying feeling send waves through your chest, quickening your heart beat as you paced in the same spot. He told you not to move, so you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t, but you felt like a moving target the more you lingered in the same area. You felt like eyes were on you and you just couldn’t see them. It was unnerving.

He told you not to move, so you shouldn’t.

You sat on the nearby bench before realizing how soaked it was, not that it really mattered. But you stood back up in a huff, lifting your hands to your face and brushing away your wet hair.

You did something stupid, of course you did, but you’d never tell him that. Sure, getting some fresh air was always a good idea when arguing, gives a chance to cool off and clear your head. But not in the middle of the night when a damn thunderstorm is about to break loose.

You were being reckless, thinking in the heat of the moment and acting on it as people so often do. As Dean so often does. You dug your own grave and now you have to lay in it as you stand there with chattering teeth and your arms wrapped around yourself to maintain the non existent warmth you had in your body.

Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like damn decades until you saw headlights. You didn’t dare draw attention to yourself in the event that it wasn’t Dean—he was incredibly observant, he’d see you without it.

But you heard a distinct three honks of a familiar horn, and that relief settles over you once more. He pulls a u-turn in the middle of the wide road, stopping along the curb right in front of you as he leans over the bench seat to look at you.

He sees that look on your face, he sees your stance, he knows you’re not going to make this easy for him, he knows. You’re stubborn as hell and he loved it and hated it all the same. Hated it in moments like this.

He knows, so he does himself a favor and gets out of the car and into the pouring rain.

“Well I’ll be damned, looks like you actually listened to me,” he says, looking at his surroundings, the very same ones you’d mentioned to him on that phone call.

You hadn’t strayed too far just like he’d asked you to, you stayed put.

You roll your eyes, exhaling a larger than life huff. “Don’t get used to it.”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes, and that expression he’s got is far less than humored as he narrows his eyes at you. He could tell you’d still be difficult, no matter how scared or upset or truly bothered you were, you’d always be difficult first because being stubborn is what you know best. Didn’t want to show how vulnerable you were, how vulnerable you are.

“You gonna stand there all night or are you gonna get in the car, sweetheart? It’s cold and this storm ain’t going anywhere,” he says, a hint of demanding in his voice.

“Then go back to the motel if you’re so uncomfortable. I’m sure can find my way back,” you counter, brows knit together.

“Like hell you can,” he nearly yells, his frustration evident. “Don’t be stupid, Y/n.”

“I’m not being stupid, Dean,” you say, equal anger in your tone.

“Yeah, you are, Y/n. You went wandering off in the dinky town we know nothing about in the middle of the night, and you got yourself lost in a storm. You’re damn lucky I found you before some monster, or even worse, some creep, got their hands on you. So yes, Y/n, you’re being stupid,” he shouts, that vein in his neck bulging and his chest heaving lightly.

“Go away, Dean.”

That’s all you could manage to say, all you could muster. You meant absolutely none of it, not at all, but that stubbornness in you was hard to resist.

“Y/n, just get in the damn car before I make you do it myself, and you know I will,” he says, a clear warning in his words.

You simply stare at him, you stand there and stare at him across the roof of the Impala as the rain continues to pour all around you, the wind making everything all the more intense.

You stood there and watched the crease between his brows, one created from your stubbornness and his frustration. You watched as the rain had his hair sticking to his forehead, no longer spiked up or disheveled from the sheer amount of times he’s run his fingers through it in the past two hours.

You stand there as the wind and the rain sends chills over you, cold and constant. He looks like his last fuse is about to blow, and he knows what you’re doing. He doesn’t give a damn about the weather, couldn’t care less now that he knows you’re in one piece, not lost in the middle of a storm. But he knows what you’re doing.

You’re so damn stubborn, so angry at him that you don’t want to listen, even if it’s inconveniencing you. You’re so frustrated, the last thing you want to do is sit a mere two feet away from him for who knows how long. It’s the last thing you want but yet it’s the only thing you want.

Not just because you were cold and wet and miserable. Not just because you were tired and in the midst of a freaking storm. He made you so damn pissed but you could deny the comfort that settled over you. Hell, is washed through you, rushed.

You didn’t want to listen to him, purely out of spite, not as you stand there and look at that expression he’s got. But yet that’s all you want to do.

After another passing moment, you exhale a short huff and open the door, getting in the car without a word.

The leather seats squeaked as you did, as Dean did, your soaked clothing making it inevitably so. The heat you felt from the vents was immediate, comforting in contrast to the cold weather just outside. And it wasn’t long before he sped off.

You sat pressed up against the door and he very much noticed, was about ready to say something but he decided against it for this moment. Kept his tight, white knuckled grip on the wheel instead. But that didn’t keep him from glancing over at you more often than not.

He could feel you shivering, even if you insisted on sitting as far from him as you could. In reality, you wanted nothing more than to tuck yourself against him, but that spite you’ve got going on was still going.

You looked ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous sitting there like that acting as if he had the damn plague. Acting like you didn’t absolutely love the idiot sitting 3 feet away when it really could have been just one or two. You looked stupid and you knew it, you knew he knew it too.

“You gonna glue yourself to the door the whole way back to Bobby’s too?” He asks.

Exhibit A.

You exhale a huff, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Maybe,” you say, stubborn as ever.

You hear his quiet scoff, you know he’s shaking his head without even seeing him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/n,” he says, glancing over at you briefly to see just how tightly your brows were scrunched.

“Shut up, Dean,” you say, quiet but he very much heard it.

He only shook his head, chuckling to himself quietly but this time it wasn’t completely void of humor. You were ridiculous.

You noticed how he turned the vent towards you, then you noticed how all of them were. Never mind the fact that he may have been cold. He pointed all the damn things towards you and that alone had you wavering.

No, you couldn’t. Couldn’t just give in so easily to that green eyed fool because he’d get all smug, let it go to his head. No matter how your heart skipped a beat, no matter how sweet the gestures were, one’s he did without second thought because he would always put you first.

No matter the cause, no matter the situation, he put you first every single time without hesitation. Doesn’t matter if it’s walking closest to the street when walking, or giving you the last beer. No matter if it’s giving you his jacket in the cold or ripping a damn piece of his flannel off to bandage you, even if it was his favorite one. He always put you first.

But you couldn’t think about that right now, you’d give in too easily. Couldn’t let him have that satisfaction because you may be ridiculous, but you you stubborn too.

What you could do, however, was scoot a little closer. Just a little bit, then a little more, and maybe you’d be damn near pressed to his side until you finally are.

“Think better of it?” He asks, and you hear that amusement in his tone.

You simply huff, displeasure on your expression as you glare up at him.

“Just cold, don’t get too excited,” you grumble, resting your head back on his shoulder as you cross your arms around yourself.

Just cold.

You were quiet the rest of the drive back to the motel, the drive that wound up being twenty minutes. Seemed like nothing, like a quick trip in a vehicle. But to walk, it felt like it was infinitely longer.

That familiar motel came into view as Dean slowed down, swinging into the small lot and right back into the same parking spot as he’d been in just hours prior.

It was still raining, still heard rumbles of thunder after flashes of lightning. The wind still blew against the car and swayed it faintly, the culmination of all three proving to be less than inviting for you to want to get out of the warmth and safety of the car and into the elements, even if it was just for a few fleeting seconds.

You scooted away from Dean as he dug in his pocket, fishing around for the motel key. He pulled it out with a smal a-ha, something that had you rolling your eyes as you push open the door.

It was quite a cold shock, actually, the weather a sharp contrast to the warmth of the Impala. But luckily Dean was just as urgent with getting inside the room as you were, though you still released your exhale just as loudly.

You can tell he’s not a fan of that action, not one bit as his jaw tenses momentarily and maybe even an eye roll. But it’s a matter of seconds before he pushes open the door.

It looks just as you left it, duffel bag on the bed, a few clothing items strewn about it in an effort to find something to wear. Though you were mid argument at the time, the action proving to be pointless and it showed.

Dean’s bag was in the same spot, unzipped and rifled through as it sat on the floor next to the bed still.

It was much warmer and much more dry than the inclement weather just on the outside of that door. But it was still tense. It was still tense and moody and damn near suffocating just as it was in the car, just as it was out in the storm. That was something that motel room couldn’t take away.

You brush past him in a huff, feeling his eyes on you as you made your way to the bathroom. You don’t care—he can look at you all he wants. He can glare, can furrow his brows, he can look as moody as he’d like but you don’t care. You most certainly do, but you’re stubborn enough to not want that to show.

You switch on the light, it’s yellow glow illuminating the small room. This is the first time you’d really seen yourself since this morning. The gash on your face, how tired you looked. How swollen your eyes were from crying, how rain soaked you were.

You looked exactly how you felt, and your reflection only made you more upset.

You were so worked up, so out of sorts, you left the bathroom all together in the huff that you entered it in. Just as upset as a few minutes ago, passing by Dean in the very same way as the first time.

He didn’t say anything, not at first. He didn’t say anything as he stood there and watched you, hands paused from what they were doing digging around in his bag. It wasn’t until you began digging in yours that he spoke up.

“What are you doing?” He asks, something more than curiosity in his tone. Something that sparked your frustration.

“Getting ready for bed, what’s it look like, Dean?” You counter, discontent in your tone as you speak.

“So you’re just gonna neglect your wounds like it didn’t happen and go to bed?” He says.

“Yes, Dean, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

You continue to rummage through your belongings, not fully knowing what you were looking for in your anger until you spotted a shirt to sleep in. Of course it was one of Deans—you haven’t worn your own clothes to bed for quite a long while. It wasn’t going to change just because you were fighting like cats and dogs.

You dug around some more in search of your toothbrush, snagging your hand on something sharp enough to make you recoil as it brushes over your wound. You knew he saw it, of course he did. He saw most everything.

“Y/n,” he says.

You don’t respond, instead shrugging off your coat, letting it fall to the floor in a rain soaked pile, you shirt soon to follow. You could tell he was growing impatient again.

You sat on the edge of the bed and began to untie your boots, careless and rough with your actions. So careless that you gripped them with your frustration to toss them inside rather than kick them off like you normally do, the action sending jolt through your palm once more. It was a crippling wave of pain, one that had you sucking a sharp gasp through your teeth as you jerked your hand back

“Y/n,” he said, louder this time.

“What?” You ask, your annoyance evident in your tone.

“Would you calm down for a second?” He says.

“I am calm, Dean.”

He laughs again, the humor far from it once again as he looks at you.

“No, you’re not. You’re too damn busy huffing and puffing that you’re bangin’ yourself up even more than you already are!” He all but shouts.

“I’m fine, okay? It’s just a freaking scratch, Dean,” you yell, holding up your hand. It wasn’t until you looked at it, saw the fresh staining of blood on the scrap piece of flannel that you knew you were in for it. “Son of a bitch.”

“Bathroom. Now,” he says.

You look back at him.

“I can handle it.”

“I wasn’t asking, sweetheart. Bathroom,” he says.

You simply look at him for a moment or two, the very same way you did earlier when he asked you to get in the car. You look at him and see he’s not backing down, that he’s not kidding. So you roll your eyes and get up from the bed, brushing past him again and bumping him with your shoulder.

You can be pissed at him all you want, he didn’t care. He was patching you up no matter how much you fought him on it because he always did, and he always will.

You walk back in the bathroom with a short huff, the older Winchester right behind you.

“Have a seat.”

You roll your eyes. “You don’t have to tell me what to do, Dean.”

“Apparently you do.”

You glare at him, hopping up onto the counter anyway. You could tell another comment was sitting on the tip of his tongue but he chose against saying anything further on the subject.

He set the first aid kit down, flipping open its lid. His hand hovered over it for a few passing moments, as he looked over everything, pulling out the roll of bandage and the antiseptic, grabbing a moderate stack of gauze from its compartment.

He set everything down and laid it out on the counter before returning his focus to you. He grabbed your hand gently, so very gentle in contrast to his temper. He held your hand in his and turned it so your palm faced upwards. He let go momentarily to untie the knot in the fabric around it, requiring a little extra work from how tight he’d fastened it earlier. But soon enough he got it, loosening it up.

When he pulled away the fabric to reveal a nasty scratch that’d been plenty smudged with crimson, you lifted your gaze to see his expression. You saw the tension in his jaw, saw the way his brows pulled together in displeasure. You saw it all while you felt the gentle caress of his thumb over the heel of your hand.

He got caught up in staring for a few more moments, noticeably so, and he cleared his throat. He snagged some gauze and the bottle of antiseptic, opening the plastic cap with a flick of his thumb. He tipped the bottle over and squirted the clear liquid on the gauze, grabbing your hand once more.

He looked at you briefly, long enough to make sure you met his gaze as if to offer a wordless warning. He drizzled some of it directly on your hand, the sensation cold and stinging almost immediately and you half make an attempt to pull from his grasp but he tightens around your wrist gently, just enough to let you know he wouldn’t let you recoil.

He waited a few moments before taking the dampening gauze and dabbing away the excess liquid, tossing the dirtied material aside in favor of grabbing fresh ones.

Your hand was tender as he wiped away the blood, making sense of what he was working with ones he got it more cleaned up. It was red and irritated, hand throbbing from all the fuss and handling of it that you so desperately wanted to be over. So much so you began to squirm and continue to try and recoil.

It was no use.

You were relieved to see he’d been done with the liquid torment, for now at least, grabbing the roll of bandage. He’d laid down fresh, dry gauze first, peeling back the edge of the roll before he began wrapping it around your hand. He was gentle throughout the process, gentle despite being so horribly the opposite just hours earlier. He’d always take care of you.

His thumb brushed over the fresh bandage for a few moments, his gaze shifting to your cheek. You knew what was coming next.

“Dean, I can take care of the rest,” you interject, watching him nearly roll his eyes.

“I’m sure you can, but I didn’t ask you to either.”

You huff once again and roll your eyes, looking the other way when he grabbed more dampened gauze from the counter.

You felt his finger under your chin, redirecting your gaze to him so he could see better. You struggled to keep from moving, the anticipated pain having you trying to get yourself situated, shying away from that damn antiseptic in hopes he’d just call it a day.

Of course he wouldn’t.

“Dammit, Y/n, would you hold still?” He says, patience thin as he rests his hand on your cheek and redirects your gaze once more.

You heave a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping a little bit as you allow him to, eyes narrowed as you look up at him with all the annoyance you could muster. You didn’t want to hold still, you wanted to dig your heels in and do the exact opposite of everything he said. You wanted to piss him off even more because you were still angry, still upset with him.

You gave it a valiant attempt, tried your hardest and it lasted you a little while as you sat there on that counter. But with the way he’d been cradling your face in his hand, the way his thumb brushed back and forth across your cheek almost absentmindedly. It was hard to keep your irritation in place.

“He really gotcha good, huh sweetheart?” He asks, tone much softer than moments ago but that anger was still very much there. Not at you, but at the damn thing that put its hands on his sweetheart.

It’s like a burning feeling in the pit of his stomach, sitting heavy as a damn boulder there, getting heavier and heavier with each passing minute the more he allows himself to think about what happened, what could have happened.

He always does that to himself. Always keeps himself up at night. Lays there and let’s one scenario after the next plague his mind on things that could happen to you, things that could happen to Sammy. Things that could happen on his watch, trying to figure out ways to prevent said imaginary things to happen so he’s prepared for anything and everything. Things that could happen when he’s not there, even just for a split second. Those were the things that bothered him the most. Drove him insane till he got this tightness in his chest that had him nearly bursting at the seams.

He gets himself so worked up on those nights, all while you’ve got your head on his chest and you’re sound a sleep, not a care in the world for a few hours time. He envied it, how at peace you were, but it’s all he wants for you, helps loosen that tightness in his chest knowing you’re at ease. At ease while he lays there and torments himself with what ifs and things that didn’t even happen, things that might never happen.

Dean Winchester might seem calm, cool, and collected under the pressure of this hunting life. He might seem like he’s got everything under control at all times, got a plan for everything, a solution. And most of the time, he does. But he’s also got himself so wound up on the future way far ahead of him that it renders him anxious and stressed more often than not.

You simply shrug at the question. “S’alright.”

There’s that infamous eye roll he gives, that anger building once more at your nonchalance of the situation. It’s part of what’s got him so angry that night to begin with. You act like you don’t care when you really do, act like everything’s fine and that it’s just part of the job. It is, but getting hurt like that, hell, even getting just a simple scratch. To him—that’s purely like a nightmare when it comes to you.

He couldn’t care less how banged up and bruised he got, but when it comes to Sammy, when it comes to you, he gets so damn pissed he can hardly see straight.

“No, it’s not,” he says, dabbing away the remnants of blood smudging around it on your forehead.

You’re half tempted to argue in response, tell him he’s being dramatic. But you’d only be poking the bear, something you’d done the entirety of that night. But that look on his face, painted with worry and fear, you saw it and didn’t have the heart to poke and prod at him, at least not in this moment.

So you settle for a deep sigh, looking up at him while his other hand still rests on your cheek. You know part of him is being a little dramatic, you know he doesn’t need to get so tightly wound on scenarios that didn’t even happen, but pointing it out would do no good.

He drops his hand in favor of digging through his first aid kit. It’s always fully stocked, nearly jam packed to the gills with just about anything you could imagine. At every hunt he’ll stop at a gas station in whatever town you’re in, buy a box of bandages, supplies, anything he thinks he may need. He’s got this paranoia of running out, this worry he doesn’t have enough in the event of an emergency. But that worry is something he keeps to himself.

He pulls out three closure strips, tearing open their packaging. He’s careful in the way we places them, wants them to be damn near perfect, wants to add as little pain as possible to the pain he’s sure you’re feeling. Just the idea makes him riled up and angry at the thought of you hurting.

He dabs away any additional blood that formed, that cut looking a little better now that it’d been properly taken care of, leaving it to look a little red and angry after having been touched.

You continue to sit there on that counter as he cleans up, tossing the trash in the small bin on the floor right next to it. He can feel you staring, of course he can. He can feel it and confirms it when he turns back to you.

He averts his gaze for a moment as he grabs ahold of your hand, gently as his eyes glance over the fresh bandage. That very hand his shaky as it rests in his palm, his thumb brushing over the heel of it as a wordless for me of comfort.

You can see the way his jaw tenses as he looks at it, at the way his brows crease and knit together. You can practically see the gears turning in his head, working on overdrive and you know he’s thinking about what happened that day. And it’s almost as if he can read your thoughts, tearing his gaze away as if to clear his mind, shake away his own thoughts before he looks at you.

His gaze is still narrowed with that anger, but it’s quick to soften just a little when he meets your eyes.

You bite the inside of your cheek for a moment, swinging your dangling feet once or twice when you bump his leg with your foot.

“I’m fine, Dean,” you say, not so much in a stubborn, dismissive way this time.

His brows pull closer together again at the words, words he doesn’t agree with, but there’s that damn smile of yours. Soft and sweet, a little humor behind it because you’re trying to lighten the mood. All he can do is look at you, look at that small grin and wonder how he got so lucky to have you looking at him like that.

You reach up and swipe your thumb along his chin, wiping away the smudge of dirt that was smeared there. But you didn’t drop your hand, pressing your thumb in the soft dimple in his chin before you caress his cheek softly, letting your hand settle there.

You can feel his stubble scratch under your palm, can feel the tension in his jaw. But you can also feel it subside as the tips of your fingers brush over his hair as they rest at the nape of his neck. He may have been your tough guy, may have been rough around the edges, but nothing could compare to the way his gaze softened as he looked at you. As he responded to your touch in the gentlest way possible.

It worked wonders to sooth his anger, anger that still lingered and threatened to build up and tighten in his chest if he thought about that day one more damn time.

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours, hands resting on the tops of your thighs. He heaved a heavy sigh, breath smelling like the burger he’d had for dinner, and the beer he’d drank to wash it down.

His nose bumped against yours, and you can feel his unease without even looking at him, you know there’s words on the tip of his tongue.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says, quiet as his breath puffs against your lips with each word.

You’re silent for a moment or two, something that maintains that unease he feels. Because he knows he gets angry, so damn angry that he acts like a jerk. Says things to piss you off in the heat of an argument. He knows it.

But it’s quick to ease when he feels your lips on his, soft and gentle, something he wastes no time in leaning into as he kisses you a little harder. He basks in every last bit that that kiss lingers, parting momentarily as his breath brushes against your lips warmly before kissing you again once, twice, three more times.

He can’t help but steal another as he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter with a grip on your hips, pulling back just enough to see your face.

You see every freckle, every single one, speckled across the bridge of his nose and splayed over his cheeks. Dotting along his eyelids and disappearing up into his eyebrows. You see the one that sits in his top lip, one that you never fail to press a kiss to, this time being no different.

You see the soft creases by his eyes, the near permanent lines of worry between his brows. You see every single detail up close and personal as you sit there and stare at him. And the way he runs his hand along your rain dampened hair, brushing it out of your face, it’s the only thing that distracts you and pulls your attention.

“Guess I’m sorry too,” you say, that humor in your tone making him roll his eyes. But the meaning, the sincerity is very much there and he knows it.

“You’re a pain in the ass, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before spinning on his heel and stepping out of the bathroom.

“Hey!” You protest, hopping down from the counter with a fake frown that threatens to turn to a smile, even more so when he turns to look at you with raised brows. “Am I at least your pain in the ass?”

He pretends to ponder the question long and hard, lips puckered in thought as he stands there and watches you grow impatient and lightheartedly offended.

You’re about ready to scoff when he steps closer, hand reaching up to settle at the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair softly.

“Always have been, sweetheart,” he says, pressing his lips against yours.

—

Taglist: @harrysweasleys @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @campingmonkey @lanea-1 @deandaydreaming @agalliasi @malindacath @ajreturnstocringeyaccount @deanswaywardgirl @awkward-and-indecisive @drownthewitch @happyt0exist @sparkycorleone @humanmistakes @akshi8278 @kidd3ath @nyotamalfoy @elliewigginton20 @wandering-winchesters @senjoritanana

#dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester fic #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfiction

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midnightorchids · 17 days

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hey babe- I sucks so much that your sick and stressed. Maybe some soft Jason HCs will help. - Jason will highlight and annotate lines or passages in his book that remind him of you. He will say them to you late at night when both of you are tucked away in bed to make it seem like he made it up himself. You know he's lying since you have read all of his books but you indulge him. That adorable proud smirk on his face is too kissable not too. - Both of you have scheduled reading dates once a month where you'll spend most of the day just reading on the couch. Your head in his lap or his head in yours. You spend supper that night talking about your separate books. - He loves it when you slightly tug on his hair or gently scratch his skin (non-sexually). It's like a reminder to him that he didn't make you up and that he can still feel you so closely. He's dead asleep as soon as his head connects with your chest and your hands tangle in his thick black hair. He'll smile and giggle like a little kid as you kiss the white tuft of hair tangled over his forehead. - If your a hero/vigilante yourself, he coordinates his patrol times so that you'll start patrol together. He only takes his mask off during patrol time when he's with you on a secluded roof-top or warehouse. The first thing he always asks is 'you ok hun? anything happen?' - After patrol, he's always antsy to pamper you first. He helps you out of ur uniform, sweeping you up into his arms to be placed in the bath. The warm water, scented at your request, settles your nerves, the tension leaving your muscles as Jason starts washing down your shoulders and chest. He settles behind you, your body trapped against his. His legs on either side of you and his thick arms holding you tightly against his chest. His chin usually rests on the top of your head as you ramble about your evening. He'll press soft sweet kisses under your ear and along the curve of your neck, making you giggle. - He'll help you step out of the bath and wrap you tightly in a towel, giving you one of his shirts to change into as he finds his sweatpants. You fall asleep on top of him, nestling into the safety of his arms. Both of you are cozy and extremely sappy. But it's just a fraction of the love that he pours into you and your relationship. Jason falls asleep smiling, knowing that he has the most important person in his life wrapped up and safe tangled in his arms.

You don’t understand, this genuinely just made my whole day, week even!! Thank you!!! These are the sweetest headcanons ever, I would die for soft Jason.

I had the stupidest grin on my face reading the first one, he’s such a loser, but in the best way possible.

And because of that, I’d also like to add on to that one…!

You know when a song comes on that you know really well and you just can’t help but sing along? I think there would be a time in your relationship where he’d recite you a verse from his favourite poem, acting all high and mighty like this is his own work. You’ll look at him with a small smile on your face, trying to hold yourself back from reciting along with him, but you can’t help it!! Once you start, he’ll stop and get this really cute, sheepish smile, knowing that he’s been caught.

You’ll both let out a giggle and to tease him further, you’ll tell him he’s an amazing writer and that you’re a big fan of his works. This will end in one of two ways, he’ll tackle you and smother you with kisses or he’ll tickle you until you’re both a laughing mess. Either way, this doesn’t stop him from reading out his favourite lines to you and pretending like they’re his own.

The scheduled reading dates one also has me on such a chokehold. I want to be bundled up in a cosy sweater with big blanket and have him lay his head on my lap, while I play with his hair and read to him (I suck at reading out loud, he’d probably make fun of me LMAO).

I also want him to tell me about the books he’s reading, his eyes wide, full of life and beaming with passion.

This is when he looks the prettiest. He’s so excited, he’s waving his hands around gesturing to things, pacing around the room, trying to explain this crucial point in his story to you. You can’t help but stare at him in awe, he’s just so so pretty like this.

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd headcanon #red hood headcanon #batfam

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sunny44 · 7 months

Text

What about us?

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x ex!Reader

Warnings: mentions of loneliness, sadness, breakup, co-parenting and maybe more

Summary: Where Lewis hasn't been himself lately.

Next Chapter

Lewis and I met when I was working in the media department at Mercedes, I wouldn't say we fell in love at first, but he was definitely the guy I loved most in my life.

But unfortunately not everything we love stays in our lives forever.

We dated for 3 years and then when 2021 came, he was so devastated that the title was taken away from him that our relationship didn’t last.

He was so out of himself that u didn’t recognized him anymore, I seem like the man I love was taken away from me when he lost that day.

So that when we decided to go in separated ways.

But 3 months after i found out that u was pregnant with our daughter and we had to get our path together again. He said to me the day I told him about my pregnancy that I saved him for making the stupidest mistake of his life because he was about to retire from formula 1.

The internet already new that we weren’t together anymore but they just discovered my pregnancy when he posted about it.

We obviously will have a connection for the rest of our lives and I am extremely happy that we manage to be in good terms or co-parenting would have been harder.

I would be lying if I said it was easy because it wasn’t, the fact that we are separated makes Harley's schedule and routine harder than would be if we were together.

Today is Harley’s 3th birthday and I’m was going crazy with everything, she wanted a formula 1 themed party and it was all thanks to her father who got her addicted to the sport.

So here I was running around my apartment to decorate everything while she was with Sebastian and his wife.

Kika is here with Pierre and the other boys helping me with the party.

Lately he was kind of absent, he obviously came to see Harley but when I tried to talk to him, Lewis answered as little as possible and my messages he didn't even answer.

I had been trying to get him to help me with her birthday but now I was worried that he wouldn't come.

I hope he is only busy now in the afternoon because I will kill him if he doesn't show up.

We live in Monaco so some of the drivers came since they are all passionate about Harley.

This includes George, Pierre, Sebastian, Charles, Carlos, Daniel, Max and Lando.

Max and Lewis were not biggest fans of each other, far from it, but Benjamin his son was best friends with Harley so we met occasionally. And above all they treated each other with respect so we had an acceptable relationship for the sake of our children.

And Lewis hated that Harley adored Uncle Max.

The party had been going on for two hours and nothing came of him, I didn't know whether to be worried or angry.

"Mommy, where's Daddy?"

"I don't know my love, he should be here soon." She agrees a little discouraged but runs to where Ben and Max were.

"Anthony do you know where Lewis is?" I asked his father who was talking to my parents.

"I don't know darling, he said he would be a little late but he would come." I sighed in frustration. "I'll try to call him."

"Thank you."

He left to try to call his son and I went off to try to concentrate on distracting Harley with play.

…

He appeared in the middle of the party and I sighed with relief when I saw him coming through the door with Angela with him, Harley ran up to her father and I was happy to see her smile.

"How nice of you to come." I hugged Angela and she smiled.

"You've done well with the decorations." She said and I thanked her. "Can I talk to you? I want to take advantage of the fact that he's distracted by her."

I looked at the two of them and Harley was talking non-stop and he was listening attentively.

"Sure." We went into the kitchen where no one was around. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm not sure, I'm a bit worried about him."

"What happened?"

"I arrived at his apartment today and everything was a mess and he was asleep on the sofa." I was surprised because he rarely slept during the day and his apartment was always spotless. "I tried to talk to him but you know how he is, Lewis doesn't open up easily but he ended up saying that he wasn't happy and that he missed you both a lot."

"But we're always here."

"I think he misses a family." I sighed because I understood his feeling. "You know that he loves you both more than anything in the world and I remember when you were together he was planning to marry you, have children and have you live in a more secluded house so that you wouldn't be swallowed up by the media but from one moment to the next his plan became just a dream."

"I understand."

"And the only thing that's kept him going over the last few years is that little girl and the fact that you're her mother because that's what's kept you in his life. But he hasn't been the same for a while."

"I've noticed that he's been acting strange lately, he doesn't talk to me directly and avoids me whenever he can."

"Because he knows that you know him like the back of your hand and that you would know what was wrong with him." She takes my hand. "I'm not telling you this because I want you to feel guilty or anything, but I wanted to ask you to talk to him and try to help him in any way you can."

"All right, I'll talk to him after the party."

...

I said goodbye to the last few people and the only ones that were still around was Max, Ben and Lewis

"Buddy it's about time we go home." He says trying to talk the boy off the trampoline.

"Not yet Daddy, wait a little longer." He says short of breath from jumping around.

"If you don't mind I can take him to your apartment later."

"All right, thanks." He said goodbye and went home.

They kept jumping on the trampoline while Lewis was inside grabbing the trash.

After 10 minutes Bem said he was tired and i asked Lewis to watch Harley while I take him to his father and when I came back I could hear them in her room.

"I've missed you so much, Daddy." She says, already lying on her bed.

"I missed you too baby bear." She smiles tiredly and closes her eyes. He kisses her forehead and stays there for a few more minutes until he sees that she's asleep.

"Hey." He smiles as soon as he sees me outside her room. "I'm sorry I couldn't help, I got caught up with some work stuff."

He was lying but I knew it was juts for me not to worry about him.

"It's okay, I sorted it out." He smiled and went back into the living room. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Maybe because I know you better than you think." He sighs. "You don't have to tell me what it is, but I want you to know that I care about you."

"It's just that everything's been a bit too much lately."

"What do you mean?"

"The constant pressure at work, the media, the fact that I'm not there for you two every day. Everything." He turns to me. "I just don't know how much I can take anymore."

"Lewis..."

"I miss you, and I miss us, I miss Harley and this feeling that I'm good at what I do has been haunting me."

"But you are good."

"Apparently not so much because I can't even stand on the podium." I sighed. "I don't expect you to understand but I don't think I want to do this anymore."

"What do you want to do then?" He looks at me. "You know that Harley and I don't care if you're a driver or not, we care about you too much to worry about whether you're still in Formula 1 or not."

"It's just that I've lived this for so long that I just wish I could be with you every day without worrying about having to catch a flight to the other side of the world."

"I understand and I'll support you in whatever you decide.

"Thank you." I sat down on the sofa and nudged him to sit next to me, which he did, resting his head on my shoulder. "You know I love you, don't you?"

"I know, I love you too."

"But I love you in a way that..."

"I know, and I love you the same way." He looks at me. "I understood what you meant from the start."

"And what does that mean for us?"

"I don't know but we don't need to find out today, we have plenty of time." He smiles and we lie down on the sofa.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername instagram post

Liked by @lewishamilton, @susiewolf, @cherlesleclerc and others 293629

@yourusername I still can believe my baby is turning 3 years old today.

I’m so happy that I’m your mama and that I’m able to watch you grow and turn into this beautiful little girl.

I can’t imagine my life without you and I’m grateful for having you in my life.

Thank you @lewishamilton for making me a mama and for giving me the best gift anyone could ever give me.

Happy birthday sweet girl, mama loves you so much 🩵.

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Guys I have so many ideias for another chapters of Lewis being Harleys dad so if you guys want to read the next chapters let me know so I’ll tag you guys.

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valenishere · 1 month

Text

Sagau Idea

I'm not that good with writing YouPoV's so there may be some odd usage of they's and thems then switching to "you"'s. this'll be stock full of typos so be warned

Mentions of injury, implied murder, blood, and implied cult

It's been a long while since I've gotten into Self-aware genshin aus, reading the fluffiest scenes to straight up gore. And theres this concept I saw about where the creator (basically, you) can make any oc come to life and help them out. (this one read it s really good. They also expanded on it go read it too its a really neat build-up on it. this one)

And as a DnD enjoyer as well... there's this idea thats been brewing in my head whenever i think back to it.

What if in Imposter!au where they're being constantly being hunted... after getting cornered in one of the nations (in the Chasm for example) they get desperate and try out an idea they don't think would work.

While resting after being in the brink of death(again) in a place Teyvat has helped you conceal, your thoughts wander. You think, why is there even a Creator? There isn't supposed to be one. That kinda concept just disrupts everything they know about the game. It's a ridiculous concept. In your delirious state, you think, "I wish that just disappears... Then i wouldn't be..."

Then you remebered the curious ability you've recently unlocked in your "adventures". The ability to create characters, with some limitations. It took you quite a bit to adjust to your newfound ability and its caveats, resulting in a few heartbreaking loss on the way.

But as a DnD player, overcoming the death of your beloved characters quickly is a mental fortitude you've developed. And it's handy that you've already made a few characters for your past sessions before landing in Teyvat. It saved you from being one-shotted right from the start.

Although now... You're down to only one left.

"... I'm so tired..."

The mental stress of being in a constant state of danger, paranoia, hunger, pain, and exhaustion have worn you down to a point where you can't even think up of more characters to make up for the one's that have recently passed. You slipped up so bad because of sleeplessness that your last capable party of characters died and a hole was speared through your gut too.

As you lay bleeding on the cold ground, with only a talking mushroom to keep you company, you wrack your brain to put together a proper character but... you really can't. You can't even think straight. Not with the recent information you've found out.

The so-called Creator is now creating their very own characters, their very own people/army, through alchemy, and is now sending them after you, thus increasing your hunters by double. And on top of the already powerful vision-holders (of course they're powerful, you made them that way), you figured... "Ah... I'm fucked..."

Knowing you might as well be as good as done now, you didn't even bother bringing out the last of your characters to heal you. It's not like healing yourself will make you forget about this lifelong trauma--

... Forget?

...

A fleeting thought.

A dumb fleeting thought. A very dumb one at that.

One that will for sure backfire in your face if you do it wrong. And quite frankly, it could spell the end for this world, even for the one they call Creator.

... But it's not like you have anything else to lose.

And so, within the dim light of the mushroom, you painstakingly start to write. Word for word, cramming everything information you know, as deatiled as you can make it into bringing it into life. A character you've never tried making before. Something that could possibly end your suffering. Or make it worse.

You honestly don't know if you're doing it right. After all, you've never tried something like it before.

"What are you making this time?' the ever so curious mushroom asked.

You grin, a manic look in your eyes. "Either my stupidest... or my brightest idea yet."

It's not long befere you finished. You gaze upon your finished product and you have to say... it's even more fleshed out than your best characters. And that quick sketch you drew... you swear those hollow eyes are following you already. That may be just the blood loss talking.

"That's... one ugly worm you've drawn..." The mushroom hums, like it can just see the monstrosity that you've created.

You chuckle breathlessly, looking almost solemn with what you're about to do. Well... it' not wrong. But...

"This is my kid. Their name is... Falseh. Get along well with them... okay?"

0===|>>>>>.

The very ground trembles as the Lord of Geo strides through the dark tunnels, a dark look in his eyes and a spear in his hand. If his presence wasn't enough, the murderous intent rolling off of him in waves is enough to deter any beasts from crossing his path.

The imposter was last seen slinking around the depths of the Chasm by one of the Tianquan's agents. Although failing to execute the imposter the first chance they got with their incompetence, Morax have to commend the Qixing for being able to find them even in the depths of the earth.

For some reason, the land seems to reject his commands from time to time now. He was baffled as to why his beloved Maker is hindering him in fulfilling his given mission but he's just been informed that the land defiance of him is due to the imposter infecting the land with their vile abilities.

Now, he's even more hellbent on making sure to drive his spear through the imposters heart and presenting it to his Grace. He won't miss a second time.

His eyes sharpens as a he a cavern just up ahead, soft blue light spilling through entrance. Tightening his grip on his spear, the power of Geo gathers in his other, ready to skewer someone five times into death if he so wishes.

He steps through the entrance and immediately lands on a figure, leaning prone under a giant glowing mushroom. He relaxes a bit. He recognizes this place. It's a bit close to the Land of Verdure, Sumeru. He needs to be careful. He can't be caught flaunting his power on another Archons domain after all.

Approaching the figure, he gets a bit surprised as they twitch, looking up to him through their hair. They try to talk, but all they can manage are quiet wheezes.

'Oh. They're still breathing. That's good.' Zhongli kneels down beside them, looking them over. They look like they've been dragged through the Abyss and back. Their midriff is bandaged heavily but it's already bled through, forming a pool of their own blood below them. He frowns lightly. It must be quite a big injury if it's bleeding this much.

Wordlessly, he holds a hand over the injury and channels his power. He's not the most profficient in healing, but he should at least be able to stop the bleeding.

Mere moments later, he have plugged up the injury and the figure is now able to stand up.

"Th-Thank you so much Rex Lapis!" they bow down. Or at least, they bow down the best they can without opening their wound. "Any longer and I would've surely perished..."

Zhongli waves them off nonchalantly as he starts to walk back out the way he came. "It's best you get back to the surface. Your injury needs to be properly tended. And I can see that..."

His eyes drifts to the scattered bloody bandages and practically empty backpack. "You've run out of supplies. It is a virtue to you mortals to know when to give up. Remember that."

"Y-Yes sir Rex Lapis sir! I'll get back right away!" they start to quickly collect their things, haphazardly stuffing the bandages and handbook into the bag, being careful of their injury.

The Lord of Geo just watches for a moment before completely leaving, trusting that they won't make any stupid mistake and go back post haste.

After he has left, you pause in your packing, leaning against the mushroom and slowly sliding down with a shaky breath.

"Y-You... didn't you say he and the entirety of the world was hunting for you?" The mushroom hums in confusion, sharing your tension. "What was that? Heck, he was the one that put a hole through you and he healed you!"

You chuckle breathlessly, the manic look intensifying in your eyes as it dawns on you that it worked. That stupid idea of yours actually worked!

And if you can get to the Creator... you can make this whole concept disappear altogether. Forever.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see it. A large mass of hairless flesh writhing about, multiple tentacle-like appendages potruding out of it. It's slithering it's limbs about, coiling around the mushroom and and back again, and around you as well.

But when you turn your head to actually look, there's nothing there. All you can hear is what seems to be muffled humming, an eerie tune listlessly flowing through the air (but somehow, the sound is the most comforting thing ever).

"Oh it's nothing. I think... he just heard something that made him forget."

#chaotic blabbing #spreadingchaos #genshin self aware #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau #self aware genshin #sagau impostor au #sagau brainrot #sagau x reader #genshin isekai #A Creature That Sings A Song That Makes You Forget #shi its already 2 in the morning #I wrote this half asleep so dont be surprised if it doesnt make sense #Falseh is pretty easy to figure out #hint it starts with a false and it has multiple heads that can sing #its a homebrew guy but i really like 'im y'know

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deadsnothere · 8 months

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Gunslinger Girl!

Synopsis - After getting a call from Garp, Alias made her way to the Baratie for a nice bite to eat and a long needed reunion.

Part 2

WARNINGS!! - READER HAS A NAME!!

Request - no, not taking them sorry.

Word count - 2.8k

Speak Ali! - Both parts together make 5,340 words, this Fic has literally taken up my brain.

Monkey D. Luffy.

Garp was a cheeky bastard.

I, Alias Foreman, Swore to be on Monkey D. Luffy's pirate crew when we both turned sixteen and fled to the sea together. I had a dream of becoming one of the most versatile people known to man. I want to learn as much as I can, to cook, to clean, to navigate boats and ships, anything you can teach me I will try my hardest to understand and learn. Now I'm not saying that I want to be the best at everything, there will always be people better. But I want to at least understand the basics of as much as possible. But for all of my life I've been known as a Gunslinger.

I'm ‘The Cheshire Cat’. Cool name with a stupid job. I hate being a Warlord of the Sea, it's the stupidest job on this side of the east blue, and they wouldn't even give me a proper crew. Just a few bumbling idiots who don't know what being a pirate really means.

Luffy always understood what being a pirate meant. I remember watching Garp train him day in and day out. Parts of me understand why Garp was so hard on him, I mean people say he takes after Gold Roger. Imagine your grandson taking after someone you helped execute. I don't think I'd be fond of it either. I’ve never thought Garp nor Luffy were wrong for what they want but, I think one knows what he's doing and the other doesn't.

It's always quite bothersome when halfway through my delicious dinner, I get interrupted by a soggy mean fishman running in here and trying to take my table for dinner. If he had waited a few minutes I would've gladly given it up, I just wanted to finish my meal. But the inpatient idiot just had to have it now.

“I'm afraid there are no more tables.” Arlong and two of his crew members were walking down the stairs of the Baratie. They’re bodies are still wet and leaving water as they walk, which is just plain disrespectful. “I see a bunch of tables.” I couldn't help but roll my eyes, to think I would have a peaceful dinner, just hopeful dreaming. People started to whisper and get up from their tables but I stayed in my seat, intending to finish the nice meal served to me. Plus it's not as if they got far, Arlong was yelling at them as soon as he got to the middle of the staircase. “Sit down!” he yelled in his degrading, chalkboard scratching voice. I continued to cut my steak in pieces to eat, they over cooked it a bit but a fine job was done anyways. Seasoned almost perfectly. A little too much oregano, but I'm just too picky with my food. Arlong went around as if he owned the place. “No one leaves.”

He looked at me with malice in his smile. “Except you.” His webbed hand went to grab the collar of my shirt but I stopped it with my own, barely even looking back. “I only have a bite or two left, I'll give it up when I'm done.” I took another drink from my wine and let go of his hand, continuing on with my meal. I could tell it pissed him off from the way he growled close to my ear. A stupid amount of spit landing on my dinner plate and shoulder. I shivered in disgust and stood up from my table. “You know what- take it.” I grabbed my plate and wine and stood up, leaving the small round table for the fishmen to sit at. I felt bad not eating the steak so I got a to-go box from the reservations desk and put it in there to give to someone later. Deciding that maybe i'll get a nice drink from the bar instead.

I was a wine kind of gal so I got a nice glass of Merlot, it was tasty. Had lots of flavor, some of which I enjoyed and some I didn't. I was enjoying the peace. I always knew it wouldn't last long but god was i sad when it was over. “Which one of you is Arlong?” Oh shit. I knew his voice anywhere, the voice I was sent for by his grandfather, the voice of a new age. I got a refill on my wine, and bought the whole bottle while I was at it, due to the lingering feeling that this wasn't going to look pretty.

When I got back into the restaurant I decided to just rest a little under the staircase, hidden by the shadows hopefully. Seeing Luffy again made me nervous. Something about it..something about how he’d be even a little bit different. When I assessed the situation in front of me it confused me a bit. I could hear that Arlong was yelling from the bar but he's an idiot so I tuned it out and tried to enjoy the bit of ‘quiet’ I had. Arlong has an older gentleman by his shirt collar, while Luffy was halfway down the main staircase. He had two men behind him, one named Usopp the other Sanji. I heard about them both, one from a customer here and the other, from a bartender. “So this is the pirate I've heard so much about.” Arlong was starting to circle around some of the tables, pacing I guess. “You know, I was expecting someone… bigger.”

Sounds like my cue. I came out of the shady area setting the wine glass and bottle on the table and grabbing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from a pocket in my shorts, picking the lucky one and placing it in my mouth delicately. “Tell me about it..I've had someone in my ear all day. ‘Find that dumbass.’ I have a headache at this point.” I laughed and leant on the chair. Luffy looks away from Arlong for a millisecond, to look at me but I don't think it registered in his brain. He couldn't have forgotten me. Luffy spoke, in his normal, nonchalant, Luffy way. “So was I.” I was puffing from my cigarette as I laughed. The snicker making smoke pour out of my nose. That got Luffy's attention. His head snapped to look at me, his eyes didn’t leave me, it looked like he was inspecting every part of my body. Probably looking for the one sign it was me. The small skull shaped scar just above my left knee. I wore shorts today just so he would see it.

His eyes were as wide as the plates they were using to serve that delicious soup I had for an appetizer. “ALIAS?!-” internally I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Externally, all I could do was smile. Luffy had a bright smile on his cheeks and I couldn't help but smile back. It was a smile I yearned for, for so long. I knew with even a bit of it, I was going to be addicted again.

I could see how excited luffy was that I was here (which made me VERY happy), but Arlong being himself did not like that attention wasn't on him for those few seconds so he cleared his throat obnoxiously. “Do you know who I am, boy?” Luffy's attention went to him but came right back when I spoke up. “Arlong the Saw.” There was a moment of silence, I taped the ash away from my cigarette into an empty glass off the table of people in front of me, and took another drag from it. “And just who are you-” - “I’m The Cheshire Cat.” I undid two of the buttons on my button up shirt with one hand, letting my collar fall back to show off the cat like scratches that laid on my collar bone (If those cats were lions that scratched almost all the way down my torso and arm). I did a stupid little bow. A few people reacted but I enjoyed the way Luffy looked so wowed. Arlongs eyes widened but they just went right back to a dumb smug smile. “You, Arlong, go for 20 million berrys.” I took another drag, exhaling calmly. “Which is impressive for the east blue but..Not so much other places.” He laughed from his chest, his friends going along with it. “What does the sell out have to say about it?” I sighed softly.

A part of me wished I was a sell out, instead of a kidnapped child forced to do the government's dirty work. The other part knew I would never do that, knew I would never betray my own crew like that. “Oh nothing honestly, I don't care about you.” I looked over to Luffy who still had a smile on his face. When we made eye contact he started to beam. I've only visited him once since I became a warlord, it makes me happy to see him so full of joy just from a moment of eye contact with me. “I'm here for him.” Luffy's hands started to shake, it was something small he always did around me. Blurted it out one day, said when I was excited sometimes I gave him a look, a glint in my eye that made him so happy his entire body shook. It was the sweetest thing he’d ever said to me. Arlong growled once again, leaving spit in someone's food. Those poor people.

He was circling the tables to get to me, circling around me slowly as if I was fish bait he was waiting to snap on. “Well I was here first.” I thought about correcting him, telling him that I was in fact here first. But Luffy interrupted the thought anyway. “How’d you find me anyway?” Luffy sounded completely confident in himself, Arlong just let out another horrid chuckle and made his way back to where he originally stood. “Old friend helped me track you down.” At first Luffy looked over to me, but I was drinking a sip of wine, just listening to what was happening in front of me. Arlong clicked his tongue and one of the other fish men grabbed the clown pirate's head out of a bag. “Heya, Straw hat. Did you miss me?” Luffy looked extremely confused, Sanji looked exhausted and Usopp looked terrified. “Burpy?” The name he called him almost made me spit out my wine from laughter (Which made Luffy happy, I could tell because he glanced at me. Even just for a second.) “What are you doing here?”

The fact that there was only a clown head confused and disturbed me, but I looked past it. “Believe me, it wasn't my first choice either.” He looked a bit nervous as he spoke. “But these fine fishy folk persuaded me to point them in the right direction, which ain't easy when you don't have any hands!” The joke made me raise my eyebrows and laugh a bit, it was funny i'll give him that. But Luffy still looked confused. “How’d you even know where to find me?” Suddenly the clown had the most serious expression I've ever seen him in. “I told you, I've got eyes and ears everywhere.” I noticed an ear start to climb out of the red band of Luffys hat. It was quite strange. The ear went back to the clown and popped right back in place, laughing. Luffy took the hat off his head inspecting it, while the two men behind him shared a look. “Stereo!” Luffy looked shocked. “You were listening all along? You heard everything?” The clown was quite happy. “Everything! and that old quick. 'Cause you shi-diots have no idea what you're doing.” The mashup word made me giggle a bit, it sounded so stupid, but it was kinda funny. (But luffy frowned a bit when he saw I laughed so i stopped as quick as i started).

The clown's head jumped towards the fishman with the huge lips. “Hey lips? How about a scratch behind the old ear, huh?” That made me roll my eyes, he was stupid enough to ask his captors that? The fishmen put him back in the bag. Buggy complaining about how sandy and wet it was.

“Listen here. I want my map.” It was so stupid. Watching them fight over the map to the entrance to the grand line, I understand why Luffy wanted it, but Arlong has a giant crew of thieves who could easily take it from another marine base. “Along with half of whatever you plunder as tribute.” Tribute? for getting a map, does he want tribute for his own existence now? “And if you bow down to me, I might even let you serve in my kingdom.” Stupid men. All of them were the same. Well not all, but most were extremely similar. “I don't bow down to any man.” Luffy stood tall, his head held up high as usual. That's my boy. “I'm no man.” Luffy continued. “Or fish.” That made Arlong growl and made me laugh. “And you’re no king.” There was a certain feeling in the air, the aggression that at any moment, one or the other would attack. Everyone was on high alert, my wine made that hard. It was just so delicate. Hard to enjoy in this environment but perfect in others.

“I will be, when I get my grand line map.” Luffy just smiled, which was a little bit attractive. “Then” He placed his hat back on his head. “You’re gonna have to fight me for it.” I take the attractive comment back, he's stupid. “Then let the fighting begin.” A bullet bounced off the fishmans skin. My hands almost drew closer to my own guns but instead I decided to pour another glass of wine. The old man that cooked my food was standing with a gun in his hand, the trigger pulled in his fingers clutches.

The thing about fishmen (I had learned the hard way) is that regular bullets don't affect them. I have very special bullets, made from some weird unmeltable ice, something about them coming from a town inside the grand line called drum town, from the deepest parts of frozen lakes. They're so sharp they even pierce fishman skin but don't go as deep as I would like.

Arlong turned to the old man, one of his crew members kicking him away and down before punching him into a pillar. Sanji called out his name and ran over, jumping on the table and kicking the fishman in the face. Which just pissed him off more. He got a few good kicks to the face and arms, even the legs but Luffy distracted him. “Really good fighter.” By the time he went to do a quite nice spinning kick to the face again, he caught his foot in his arm. I reached for both guns in my holsters, Checking that they had the correct bullets and shot multiple rounds from Alice, all of them making a trail up his arm and letting Sanji get away. The fishman looked back at me, anger and confusion in his eyes. “These bullets are made of ice, so sharp they even pierce fishman skin. I got them specially made.” There was a delicate smile on my lips, blowing the smoke out of my mouth and away from my guns. Normally i wouldn't touch these but i had a feeling about bringing them today, i'm glad i did. they may be expensive but Luffy was worth it anyways.

Everything was happening so quickly, Luffy's gum gum pistol, Arlong grabbing and pulling him closer. “Uh-” I could tell there was panic in his voice, but I couldn't tell if helping would really be helping at all. He was thrown at a pillar, landing on the floor with a thud. “Get up!” Arlong yelled, if i was him i would've stayed on the floor in spite, but he got up regardless. He kept stretching his arms three punches, one to each shoulder and one to the face. “Not bad for a human.”

I lifted my pistol to shoot Arlong but luffy put his hand up, his middle and ring finger were intertwined and the other three fingers touched. That was our sign when we were kids to stay out of it. It was our secret signal, not even Ace or Sabo or Dadan knew what it meant. I lowered my pistol, spinning it and putting it back in its holster. I grabbed the wine bottle taking a nice big gulp. Glad i’d gotten the entire bottle because this in fact, was not going to be pretty.

Part 2!!

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gravitywonagain · 4 months

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Inquiring Minds

holy shit, i finished a thing. well, a draft of a thing, but still counts!

based on this post about wwx being just dead enough be susceptible to the compulsion of inquiry

It was, in retrospect, the stupidest possible way to be found out. Wei Wuxian will readily admit that. Unfortunately, the level of stupidity was not a determining factor for the level of reality — as was the case for so much of Wei Wuxian’s life.

It all happened because one of the two dozen Jin disciples who bothered to show up to the war got a little drunk and a lot prideful and ended up starting a fight he couldn’t finish. Or, that was the going theory, anyway. The Jin leadership — such as it was — wanted an investigation done. As if they had nothing better to do. As if there weren’t reasons to be conserving spiritual power and not wasting it playing Inquiry for a guy who had decided to pick a fight — hopefully, hopefully it was a fight — with a Nie disciple who, granted, did not have the startling musculature of some of her shixiongs, but was still a fucking Nie disciple!

This guy was not worth their time. This guy was not worth Lan Zhan’s time. Or his attention, or his spiritual power, or the stress it would put on his guqin strings— okay, maybe Wei Wuxian should have taken a moment to purge some of his resentment before walking into the tent.

But he didn’t. This is important.

Because then Lan Zhan began to play.

And there was this strange… tugging sensation in the pit of Wei Wuxian’s gut, right where his golden core was supposed to be, pulling him toward Lan Zhan, or toward the empty space in front of Lan Zhan.

Wei Wuxian shouldn’t have ignored it. He gets that now. He does. But he always wanted to be near Lan Zhan, and his body had been doing all kinds of weird shit since he’d had his core cut out, and who was to say this wasn’t just another weird side effect.

Well. It was. A weird side effect. After a fashion.

But that’s not the point!

He should have noticed then. He should have left then. But he didn’t.

The melody changed and the tugging sensation stopped. Which was great!

Until something else started. It felt like a kind of drunkenness, light and hazy in his head, loose around his tongue. Three or four bowls in.

He shook himself to dislodge it, but the motion only drew a sharp glare from Jiang Cheng.

The tent was full of spectators. At least two representatives from each major clan were present, plus several “close friends” of the victim -- like four of the fifteen total Jin disciples -- who probably just wanted something else to do outside of eat, sleep, and fight. Wei Wuxian couldn’t blame them, exactly, war was remarkably boring most of the time, but it was getting awfully stuffy in there.

Lan Zhan changed the melody again, something almost lexical about it. Wei Wuxian could almost hear the question being asked, even before Zewu Jun’s voice chimed in, translating for anyone who didn’t know the qin language — which was pretty much everyone else in the tent besides the Twin Jades — “What is your name?”

Wei Wuxian caught his own response between his lips, pressing them together tightly, as the guqin sounded three distinct notes which Zewu Jun reported as Jin Zixin.

So, good. It was the right guy. That was great. Nothing weird at all.

He should have left then. He didn’t.

Lan Zhan played again, and again Wei Wuxian thought he understood the phrase, the question, even before Zewu Jun said for the tent, “How did you die?”

Wei Wuxian felt the answer fly to the tip of his tongue and bit his teeth around it, through it. His cheek bled with the force of keeping quiet.

It was weird. So weird. But maybe, Wei Wuxian justified to himself, maybe it was just an effect of holding a secret inside for so long and having someone actually ask the question out loud. Maybe, it was just the same automatic reaction of answering with your name when someone asked for it. Maybe he was just too fucking tired, and the resentment under his skin just wanted something to laugh at, something to entertain itself with. Like the five of ten Jins standing in the back of the tent. War was boring, okay?

The notes from Lan Zhan’s guqin hung in the air, resonant and waiting. The moment seemed to stretch out too long. It dragged and Wei Wuxian gradually felt the words stop fighting him to escape.

But the Jin ghost didn’t answer either.

When Lan Zhan played the same phrase over — “How did you die?” echoed on Zewu Jun’s tongue — the compulsion was much stronger. This time it was like Wei Wuxian could feel Lan Zhan’s spiritual power pouring through him; the strongest of wines, several jars of it.

He couldn’t fight it.

His mouth opened.

I fell. I fell. I fell.

“I fell.”

All eyes in the tent turned to him.

Jiang Cheng’s elbow caught him in the ribs. He didn’t even bother to glare. He said, “Not you, Idiot.”

The qin sounded and everybody looked back to Lan Zhan and Zewu Jun, waiting to hear the Jin disciple’s answer.

Zewu Jun hesitated for the barest of moments, stuttering into the start of his translation before finding the confidence of his voice once more, recounting whatever it was that the ghost had strummed out.

Wei Wuxian didn’t hear a word he said. He was, instead, pierced on two sides.

On one: Jiang Cheng muttered to himself, “Wait,” and then his eyes went wide as he looked back at Wei Wuxian.

On the other: Lan Zhan’s fingers froze above the strings of his guqin and he turned to stare over his shoulder at Wei Wuxian with something like horrified understanding dawning within his gaze.

Wei Wuxian finally realized he should fucking leave. Immediately.

He wanted to run. He knew better. Knew what that would look like.

Instead, he was going to simply walk out of this tent as he had walked out of so many already during this campaign. Gravel crunched under his heel as he turned.

But his brother knew him too well. Jiang Cheng’s hand clamped tight around Wei Wuxian’s bicep, his grip unyielding. With his golden core, Wei Wuxian might have been able to break it. But the real bitch of it was that it was his golden core that was holding him in place.

Jiang Cheng tensed as if readying for a fight, but Wei Wuxian already knew how that fight would end. So he let himself be restrained.

He turned back to face the Inquiry.

Lan Zhan was still staring at him when Zewu Jun finished speaking. He was still so stuck in place that his brother had to prompt him into finishing the ritual. Which he did, with all the grace and skill expected of him. He really was just so beautiful to watch.

All the while, Wei Wuxian listened to the music and bit through his tongue to keep it silent. The questions continued to drag at him -- “Do you know who killed you?” Wen Chao. “Do you have any last requests?” To leave this fucking tent. -- though the pressure to answer eased significantly as the Jin ghost became less stubborn about it. Wei Wuxian settled for reciting the answers to them in his head until they no longer felt pressed against the thin seam of his mouth.

It took approximately sixteen-hundred years.

All seven Jin disciples supporting the war effort left the tent after the ghost had recounted his final moments. The attempted sexual assault was not unexpected, judging by their faces, but still disappointing to hear about. Clearly not the entertainment they were hoping for. Luckily for Wei Wuxian, they were apparently too wrapped up in their Jin nonsense to realize new entertainment was fidgeting in the corner and trying not to sever the tip of his tongue completely.

The Nie, represented by Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang, left shortly after the ritual concluded. If Nie Mingjue had to tug his brother away, Wei Wuxian was too busy keeping his mouth shut to comment on it.

And then there were just the four of them. Plus the corpse. But they were like six months into a war, so the corpse didn’t actually seem to bother any of them. It hadn’t even started to smell yet. It was still pretty intact, too, and now that it was verifiably a criminal, Wei Wuxian wondered idly if the Jin would let him use it in their next battle. Probably not.

His idle wondering ceased abruptly as his brother’s fingers bit deeper into the meat of his arm.

“Wei Wuxian,” he said, all of his surely filial worry for his gege boiling over into a spitting, incandescent fury. He never had to say he loved his brother, Wei Wuxian could always tell. It was the teeth gnashing that gave him away. “What the fuck do you mean you fell?”

Right.

Wei Wuxian played it as cool as he could with a definitely-not-bleeding tongue. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jiang Cheng.” He shrugged, but his arm didn’t move very far.

“You answered Inquiry,” said Lan Zhan. Succinct as ever.

“No!” Wei Wuxian said, maybe a little too loud, but not at all childishly.

Zewu Jun narrowed his eyes and pulled out his xiao. Wei Wuxian tried not to flinch about it, he did. But Zewu Jun only played a short, non-Inquiry melody, and a shimmering, blue barrier manifested around the interior of the tent.

“No,” Wei Wuxian said again, this time at a totally normal volume. “I was just… messing around. You know how I do that, Lan Zhan. Always a rule breaker.” He grinned, desperately trying to play it all off. Realizing faster and faster how very badly this was going for him.

Lan Zhan surprised him, then, saying, “Not when it matters.”

“What?”

“Wei Ying doesn’t break rules when they matter.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t know where the fuck that was coming from. But he couldn’t say he hated it.

Except that he did, because it was going to be a problem for this whole I’m just a silly rascal defense he was setting up.

Jiang Cheng still hadn’t let go of his arm. His fingernails were starting to split the fabric of his sleeve. And worse, his eyebrows were scrunched together in the way they do when he’s thinking through all the angles of a problem.

Zewu Jun still had his xiao in hand, and he was looking at Wei Wuxian like he was deciding whether to perform an exorcism or an execution.

But Lan Zhan… Lan Zhan hadn’t moved from his seat on the mat. He had turned his body so that he was facing Wei Wuxian, giving him his full attention, and was looking up at him with… pain in his eyes. Shining, wet pain.

“You died?” he asked. “Are you dead?”

“I don’t…” Wei Wuxian trailed off. He couldn’t find the words.

He didn’t know. Which was, possibly, not the best sign.

“I can’t be dead,” he said, looking over at Zewu Jun, Jiang Cheng, then back to Lan Zhan. “Can I?”

Zewu Jun, still wary, said, “You responded to the compulsion in Inquiry. Inquiry is a song that speaks to and compels answers from the dead. It does not generally work on the living.”

“Well--” Wei Wuxian started, defensive and scared. But again, he didn’t really know where to go with that.

“Where were you, Wei Wuxian?” Jiang Cheng asked him. “Why didn’t you meet me at the bottom of the hill?”

Lan Zhan and Zewu Jun shared a look. They didn’t seem to know what Jiang Cheng was talking about. But Wei Wuxian really, really, didn’t want to get into that whole mess. If anyone was going to see right through him and his flimsy tale about suddenly remembering the location of Baoshan Sanren’s mountain, it would be Lan Zhan. Actually, Zewu Jun would probably figure it out, too. And then maybe even Jiang Cheng. Now that he wasn’t all broken and desperate and gullible.

Fuck. With the way Jiang Cheng was looking at Wei Wuxian, the way his hand released some of the pressure around his arm, he might already have.

Wei Wuxian laughed, hoping it came off more smoothly than it felt in his chest. “Ah, Jiang Cheng.” He brought his own hand up to lay over his brother’s. “What if I told you--”

“No,” Jiang Cheng cut him off. “No more bullshit. Where were you?”

The mirth, false as it was, drained out of Wei Wuxian as he saw the pain building behind his brother’s eyes.

There was movement in his periphery and then Lan Zhan was standing on his other side. His fingers wrapped around Wei Wuxian’s other arm with a much gentler grip than Jiang Cheng’s. Something imploring about the touch. Like he was seeking confirmation to a theory, or maybe proving to himself that Wei Wuxian was actually there.

“I…” Wei Wuxian trailed off.

Zewu Jun’s gaze was hard as steel, but aimed, it seemed, at Lan Zhan’s hand, rather than at Wei Wuxian in general.

“There was a rumor,” he said in slow, even words, “that Wen Chao had thrown you into the Burial Mounds.” He waited a moment after he finished speaking, as if trying to reconcile the words himself, before he looked up to meet Wei Wuxian’s eyes.

Of course, Wei Wuxian didn’t want to meet Zewu Jun’s eyes. He didn’t want to meet any of their eyes. He wanted very much to be out of this tent and away from knowing gazes altogether.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t quite figured out how to teleport using resentful energy yet. So in the tent he remained.

He looked down at his feet. His boots were crusted with dirt and blood and other bodily fluids. War really was super gross, in addition to being largely boring.

“That’s ridiculous,” he said, still looking down. “Everyone knows that nothing leaves the Burial Mounds.”

Lan Zhan’s hand tightened around Wei Wuxian’s arm. Jiang Cheng’s loosened, but didn’t let go.

“Yeah,” said Jiang Cheng, like an accusation, “it would be impossible.”

Wei Wuxian still didn’t look up from his feet which meant that he missed whatever silent conversation happened between Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan that had both of them tightening their grips on his arms just before fingers were pressed to the pulse points of his wrists. He struggled, flailing as much as he could, but against Lan Zhan’s golden core and his own, he stood no chance. He could barely budge them.

He screamed but the sound only reverberated inside the tent.

The only thing he could think to do was to call up the dead. The dead man still lying in front of them. The Jin. Rapist. Criminal. He could use that wicked corpse to fight off the people holding him down, taking his secrets. Smoke curled out of his sleeves and he--

He stopped himself.

It was over anyway.

Even if they couldn’t read his spiritual energy, or lack thereof, his fighting them was confirmation enough.

He went limp in their grasp. His knees buckled.

It really was the stupidest possible way to be found out.

“Where is it?” asked Jiang Cheng. But it was clear from his voice that he already knew the answer.

Lan Zhan was silent.

Zewu Jun looked to his brother for an answer, not understanding what they had just discovered.

“His golden core,” said Lan Zhan. “It’s gone.”

“Wen Zhuliu?” Zewu Jun asked.

But Jiang Cheng made a sound that was somehow both a laugh and a sob.

Wei Wuxian regained control of his arms. He sprawled himself out on the tent floor, exhausted from his struggle. He laughed, too. “After a fashion.”

Jiang Cheng fell to the ground next to him, hands cradling the place where Wei Wuxian’s core now spun. “What the fuck?” he said, quietly, to no one in particular. Then, loudly, to Wei Wuxian in particular, “What the fuck!”

His cheeks were wet. Jiang Cheng’s, his own. He looked over to confirm, and yeah, Lan Zhan’s too. Zewu Jun had nothing to cry over, except maybe confusion, but he was too cool for that, so he just stood in the middle of the tent, shocked, presumably, as his brother, another sect leader, and a demonic cultivator broke down around him.

Wei Wuxian stared up at the tented canvas ceiling and cursed himself for not leaving the tent when he first noticed something wrong.

“Jiang Cheng,” he started, but Jiang Cheng cut him off with a wet yell.

“Why would you do that, you fucking idiot?! What the fuck were you even thinking?! How did you-- How--”

He seemed to lose steam trying to figure out what happened on “Baoshen Sanren’s mountain” and potentially also why Baoshen Sanren’s voice sounded so familiar.

Zewu Jun’s voice was remarkably calm for a man witnessing-- whatever he made of what he was currently witnessing. He said, “Wei Wuxian, I believe your Sect Leader would like to know how you lost your golden core.”

Wei Wuxian laughed at that. Because yes and no.

“No, Zewu Jun,” he said, still laughing. He tried to stop, but it was just too funny. “No,” he said again, slightly more sober, “he wants to know why and how he now has my golden core.”

He didn’t really mean to say it. He felt drunk again, like he did when Lan Zhan was playing Inquiry. Ready to spill all his secrets at only the slightest provocation. Zewu Jun could probably ask him just about anything right now -- Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng too, for that matter -- and he would answer it. It wasn’t exactly a safe mindset to be in. But he couldn’t really do anything about that now.

At least there was some kind of privacy barrier over the tent.

Zewu Jun stood. Speechless.

Lan Zhan’s tears fell silently.

Jiang Cheng glared, hands clutched tight against his lower dantian -- whether to hold something inside or to tear it out, Wei Wuxian wasn’t sure.

Wei Wuxian felt light as a feather. Drunk and dizzy with it. A weight had been lifted, he supposed, but one he was never supposed to let go. His laughter died down to the occasional press of his lungs. Tears collected in his eyelashes until everything was blurry.

Emptiness yawned inside him, but it was gentler somehow. As if the secret itself had been clawing away at his slowly healing wounds.

“Fuck,” he said with a hiccup of a laugh. And again, quieter, “Fuck.”

He really should have left the fucking tent.

Also, wait. Was he dead?!

#wei wuxian #lan wangji #jiang cheng #lan xichen #inquiry.mp3 #mdzs #the untamed #cql #fanfiction #my writing #inquiring minds #hey look i wrote a thing!#i actually finished a draft of something!#now if only i can aim this energy toward projects that other people actually care about...........

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vscabarca · 23 days

Text

strangers again - pablo gavi

summary: gavi breaks the situationship off after realizing he fell in love with you.

genre: sad fluff? angst? but not really

———

July 23‘

pablo gavi. A charming, polite and good looking guy who had nothing else in his mind exept for football. That was until he had met you. A shy, yet outgoing girl with a good heart.

Fermin brought you once along to a party even though you weren’t very pleased with meeting his footballer friends. The stories he had told you were anything but comforting to you, their hookups didn’t interest you one bit. Yet, your mother urged you to go out, „meet new people in a new city“, as she called it. Moving to Barcelona was a big step, but something you‘ve always dreamed of doing when you finally turned nineteen.

There you were now, awkwardly standing in the kitchen of a stranger’s home next to Fermin, sipping on some alcoholic mixture he had made you.

Suddenly, a guy bumped into you and his drink spilled all over your shirt.

„Shit, I‘m so sorry.“ He apologized, already looking for some napkins to get you cleaned up.

Annoyed, you looked down onto your drenched shirt, already fed up with this stupid party.

„Here you go.“

It was then when you looked up, seeing chocolate brown eyes wander over the mess he‘d made.

He was a bit taller than you, brown hair slicked to the side and an awkward little smile plastered across his face.

„it’s alright. it will wash out, I hope.“ You grimaced. The white top had now an ugly brownish stain on it, so napkins wouldn’t help much.

„Wait I‘ll give you my hoodie.“

You wanted to decline his offer but he already pulled the sweater off.

„Thank you. I‘m Y/n by the way, Fermin’s cousin.“ You pulled the hoodie on, introducing yourself to the pretty boy opposite you.

„Pablo, nice to meet you.“

September 23‘

The last two months you’ve spent more and more time with Fermin and his friends, only for one reason. The Andalusian caught your eye since the party as you two hit it off that night.

Pablo and you became extremely close, so close that there had been a night where he’d kissed you. Since that evening, you couldn’t stop thinking about his lips and how his fingers left a hot trail behind where he had touched you.

Pablo looked for the stupidest excuses to be around you, was it tracing his fingers innocently on your waist while passing you or giving you a kiss on the cheek when he left.

October 23‘

It all happened very quickly. Pablo had brought you home from a dinner with his friends, but you invited him inside for a glass of water. He of course accepted, wanting to spend as much time with you as possible. Pablo was confused, he had never felt such things, especially not during the season. His whole focus was usually on football, but with you sitting on his lap that october night, it became rather difficult to think about other things.

One thing led to the other and you two were tangled in the white bedsheets, clothes littered around your bedroom floor, savoring the early morning hours together.

November 23‘

it was confusing to say the least. Pablo and you fooled around, hooked up but still acted like you two were in a relationship. It was nothing official, you never talked about what you two were.

But, you really started to develop feelings for the hot-headed midfielder. It didn’t make it any better that he bought you flowers, called you almost every day and took you out on romantic dates, ending them in the most pleasurable way.

All your friends knew about Pablo and were happy for you, yet didn’t understand why there was never a talk about a possible relationship. You were scared, scared it was nothing serious for him. Still, you just enjoyed the moment having Pablo by your side.

December 23‘

Pablo fell in love. Your laugh, your beautiful eyes, the light brown hair scattered across your face when you woke up next to him. You were his favorite person to go to if he was stressed about something, because as soon as he was in your arms, he felt at peace. It was like you had a magic spell on him.

But over the month of December something changed. Not his love for you, but his unsure feelings about the whole situationship.

Pablo never had a girlfriend, only quick flings. He felt like he knew nothing about how to treat a woman. You were such a special girl who deserved nothing but love and respect. Could he really give that to you? He felt like he wasn’t ready, he couldn’t treat you like you deserved to be treated. Pablo wouldn’t even be able to get to see you much because of his packed schedule. He wouldn’t be able to take you out to a restaurant in the middle of Barcelona without people bombarding you two. And, he wouldn’t be able to defend you from the hateful comments made about you on Social Media.

It all felt so difficult to handle, so a week before Christmas, he asked you to come over and talk.

„I can’t give you what deserve Y/n.“ He said with tears in his eyes. You didn’t understand what he was rambling about. It all was going so well, you already imagined a future with him.

Ironically enough, as you left his home it was pouring down. You couldn’t even tell if it were your tears or raindrops rolling down your face. Pablo wanted you to stay, at least wait until the rain was over, but you couldn’t handle seeing him.

He just ripped your heart out of your chest.

February 24‘

the last two months have been rough. As much as you loved Fermin, you couldn’t stand seeing him because you knew Pablo lingered around somewhere too. You didn’t talk with him since that night, but he tried to call you several times. You never picked up, your heart hurt enough by only seeing his name pop up on your phone screen.

Pablo on the other hand only wanted to hear your voice, to see how you‘ve been doing. But what could he expect? He broke your heart not too long ago.

April 24‘

April rolled around pretty quickly - Barcelona got warmer, the days became longer. You had moved on fairly well, only having nostalgic memories when thinking about Barça‘s number six. You didn’t hold any grudges against him, you somehow understood what he had said. Still, you strongly believed you two could have worked it out if you really wanted.

Fermin pleaded now for weeks for you to accompany him to Balde‘s birthday party, and to make him shut up, you decided to go with him.

A feeling of sadness spread through your body as you stood there, at the exact spot like nine months ago, holding your drink in one hand, occasionally taking sips from it.

Your eyes roamed around the room, trying to see if Pablo was lingering around somewhere. You didn’t find him at first, but he then emerged from the crowd. Your eyes met his and he abruptly stopped, eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. His surprised state quickly changed into somewhat calm, a genuine small smile made its way onto his face. You reincorporated the smile, then pushed yourself off the counter to head to the door. With a last glance back, you saw him standing there, his gaze never leaving you. But after all, you two were nothing more than strangers again.

#pablo gavi #gavi #pablo gavi x reader #gavi one shot #gavi x reader #football one shot #fc barcelona #barça #football x reader

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hooman-tree · 9 months

Text

The Overthinking Embodiment Of Anxiety / Leo x Gender Neutral ! Reader .

THERE WERE MANY TIMES THAT LEO WOULD GRIMACE AND SHRIVEL UP INTO HIS OWN EMBODIMENT OF EMBARRASSMENT. But, him asking for [Name's] number in the stupidest way possible has got to be at the very top of his list. That was pretty much the only thing circling through his head, as he was currently screaming into his pillow profusely. Which was luckily muffled out.

He was currently freaking out, because somehow: Leo just happened to not only fail at leaning against the locker to the ‘awesome rizz’ he claims to have, as school today. But, he also couldn’t stop himself from stammering over his words.

In all honesty, he was one second away from puking onto [Name]. However, a quick: “I’m gonna…gonna be sick. I’ll be in the bathroom, if you need me!” managed to only further embarrass Leo, as he wasn’t able to meet up with [Name] for the rest of that day and apologise profusely for what it did.

Right now, he was still screaming urgently into his pillow, until Raph threw a pillow at him and urged him to ‘shut it up, and go get some sleep’. It was almost 3AM, and his brothers couldn’t even use their phones properly in peace to just roam about the Internet, because Leo’s screaming was consistently ruining Donnie’s Attack On Titan binge-fest Marathon, Mikey’s podcast of his favourite comedians and Raph’s blasting music that he raised up to deafen himself from Leo’s stressed out antics.

Thankfully, Leo stopped his screaming session, as soon as he felt his phone vibrate and ping from a notification popping up. He didn’t really think much into it, thinking it to be a Netflix notification. But, him choking on his own spit just proved it wasn’t even that: [Name] had sent him a message.

Almost immediately, Leo was staring intently at his phone: hesitantly clicking the notification and his phone opened up onto the messaging app.

[Name]: wassup Leo, you good after puking and throwing up in the bathroom? 😭

Leo grimaced at the teasing message, rest his head onto his other pillow, an audible sigh left him, staring up at the ceiling. “They definitely laughed after that…” With a reluctant sigh, Leo responded back.

Leo: heya [Name] & i’m all chilled out now, thanks for asking! and, sorry about that 😕 i got nervous and freaked out there

[Name]: dw mate, it’s all good & hey, at least we can chat here and still laugh abt it together later on 👍

Leo blinked mildly, clutching the phone tightly to himself, his legs wiggled about for a mere second, not able to contain his excitement. A dazed grin appeared onto his face, happily and quickly responding to [Name].

Leo: that’s sound great & i was actually wondering about something i wanted to ask you @ school before, but couldn’t today 😶

[Name]: aight👌, shoot the question @ me then man

This was when Leo kept on constantly typing for a really-really long time, to then just delete major parts of his prolonged paragraph he was wounding up in the text box. He gritted his teeth and slanted them, a nerve-wracking feeling swelled up inside of him, before he finally deleted his whole paragraph and then sent:

Leo: it’s nothing, dw

goodnight, [Name]!

[Name]: goodnight dude!!

Leo sighed, turning off his phone and he laid comfortably on his bed. He felt immensely disappointed in himself for chickening out at the last moment. But, he then remembered:

He got [Name’s] number and even managed to chat with them for a good amount of time, without even sending any stupid typos he overthought on himself to make.

A sigh of relief whipped out of his mouth from that, smiling softly in his sleep. Leo was fine with just trying to go on a date hangout with [Name] again, next time.

He’d have better luck asking them out successfully, next time.

#tmnt mm #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt mutant mayhem #tmnt mutant mayhem x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles: mutant mayhem #leo x reader #2023 leo x reader #gender neutral reader #tmnt mm leo x reader

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starstruckmoony · 2 years

Text

annoying.

masterlist

pairing - james potter x slytherin!reader

summary - james potter has a crush on you, but you don't feel the same way. or do you?

trope/tags - friends to lovers (kind of), grumpy x sunshine (again, kind of), fluff

word count - 8.5k

warnings - language, mentions of sex

the very first time james tried to get your attention was in your second year at hogwarts. he could not recall the exact moment he realised that he would do quite literally anything for you, even if it meant that he would have to die, but he knew for sure that you were the one he was meant to be with. remus thought he was being a bit dramatic, he was only twelve, for merlin's sake, what does he know about love, but james paid no mind to his worries and complaints. sirius, of course, supported him, and peter simply just trailed along hoping that they will make it out alive. why? well, you were a slytherin.

you were having lunch in the great hall with your peers like every other day. barty was acting like his usual joker self. which, frankly, was not his smartest idea, considering the blaringly obvious fact that everybody was eating and a choking hazard comes in package with laughing while chewing. no one really batted an eye, though. pandora was barely holding herself together, and evan was miserably failing at keeping a straight face. regulus was rather unphased and continued shoving pieces of beef into his mouth, but not while secretly chuckling at the stupid faces barty was making. you and dorcas, being the oldest ones, attempted to calm them all down, but your worries went on deaf ears. regardless, you were having a wonderful time, blissfully unaware of what your life was about to turn into.

"oi, l/n!" the laughter around you faded away and everybody's focus was now shifted to james standing at the entrance of the great hall.

"is that potter?" pandora wiped her tears away and rose up from her seat to see the show which was about to unfold. you furrowed your eyebrows as you slipped away into thought, picturing all sorts of possible terrifying scenarios, because why the hell was he addressing you all of a sudden? out of all people? and so loudly? you'd only ever spoken to him in potions class the previous year when slughorn assigned you to work together.

it was all very confusing and you weren't sure what to make of it.

you panicked when james started walking towards you and failed to notice the way your friends sniggered at the way your face went completely pale, just like that. he slipped into the empty spot next to you, smiling while he was waiting for your reaction. gasps left the mouths of multiple slytherins at the table, and your eyes widened in horror when you recieved dirty looks from snape and his peers. they were certainly going to terorise you and your friends for that.

it took you a few seconds, but you managed to connect the dots in your head. those sudden behavioural changes whenever you passed him in the corridors, the all but subtle glances he would send your way, the smiles, that weird twinkle in his eyes - everything suddenly made sense, as much as you hated to admit it. james potter had a crush on you, and he finally mustered up the courage to do something about it. and in the stupidest way possible.

"hello." you tried sound as polite as you possibly could despite wanting him to give him a hard push to the floor. you were everything but delighted by his presence, and restored to picking at the food in your plate without sparing him a second glance. regulus let out a snort.

"can i ask you something?" he leaned forward on the table with his hand supporting his chin. he was way too enthusiastic for your comfort and you wanted him gone.

"uh, alright, i guess." you shrugged lazily, biting the inside of your cheek in distress. part of you felt like you should let him speak; what if it was school related? potter was smart, and you could use some help on your transfiguration essays. the other part of you, however, was just about ready to strangle you.

"wanna be my girlfriend?" he smiled stupidly and it was followed by hollering and cheering from his friends, including your own. the students at the gryffindor table all appeared to have a million questions running through their minds, and your fellow housemates were not very pleased - not only did he ruin their lunch, but he was a gryffindor. and top of it, he was james potter.

you did a double-take. your mouth fell open in surprise. this was exactly what you feared.

"what?! no!" you whisper-yelled, petrified by his offer. your face was on fire, and not because you were flattered by his words, but purely out of embarrassment. barty and evan dissolved into laughter.

"okay, then how about a date first?" he was persistent and you moved away from him by instinct, only to have dorcas push you forward and towards him.

"no! go away!" you hissed, mortified, and turned your face away from him to hide the fact that it was burning. you almost reached for your wand and hexed them both.

"i have a book with some cool jinxes that i can teach you! it'll be fun! please!" he kept pushing, his eyes sparkling with hope. you swore you felt like smoke was about to come bursting out of your ears. regulus reached from behind dorcas and tapped your back in a comforting manner, but you did not miss the way he smirked after he retrieved his hand.

"teach me?! do you think i'm stupid?!" you snapped, finally whipping your head in james' direction with rage evident on your face.

"i thought you wanted to learn the– ow!" you kicked barty in the shin from under the table. the sudden impact made everybody's plates shake. "hey, i almost spilled my soup!"

"come on, y/n! please!" he decided to shoot his shot one more time, this time with puppy eyes, and a sodding pout, but you refused to give in. nothing in the world could have made you say yes to james bloody potter.

"no." you said sternly, crossing your arms and not allowing yourself to look in his direction again.

"fine! but just so you know, i'm not giving up," he stood up, it was amusing to you how unaffected he was by your rejection. he was as enthusiastic as he was when he first took a seat next to you, "i'm gonna make you mine."

***

and james kept his promise. the next several years at hogwarts became certainly memorable. getting rejected bruised the gryffindor boy's ego, so he was determined to prove himself to you and became quite a little show off. he was awfully cocky, and to top it all off, he did the absolute stupidest things to try and impress you - from jinxing snape after he heard him berate you for messing up a potion, to straight up helping you cheat in transfiguration class and getting himself a year's worth of detentions. he was a gentleman, though, and didn't try to pressure you into going out with him after you made it clear that you did not want to. as much as he adored you, he never went out of his way to actually do something that would cause you discomfort. no, that was his biggest nightmare.

funny enough, it was also why your hatred for him began fading away, and very unfortunately for you, there was no going back. you really had no true reason to dislike him as much as you did, which only made you loathe him even more. truth be told, you felt bad, and that was what you hated the most.

after james' terribly unsuccessful attempt at asking you out, things became rather awkward and you did everything in your power to avoid him. you despised him, or so you told yourself. your friends were sure you did, you spoke about him with so much venom in your voice that pandora thought they'd have to lock you up to stop you from using a forbidden curse on him. but then somehow, the two of you formed a strange sort of relationship, one would even call it friendship - james would randomly wind up in the same places you (he'd always claim that it was only coincidental), but you wouldn't chase him away. yeah, you'd be mean to him, obviously, and any normal person would probably cry, but he was enjoying it, because, well, it was you. when you grew closer to the gryffindor girls, mary macdonald managed to open your eyes and you saw that james wasn't the creep you assumed he was. so, you warmed up to him, and by some strange miracle, stopped completely loathing him and his presence.

though you still found him completely, utterly and unbearably annoying.

"oi, l/n! what you up to?" he showed up in the astronomy tower where you were reading one gloomy afternoon. regulus must have told him where you were, looks like someone's sleeping on the floor tonight. the lake seemed like a perfect place to drop a bed into at times. it's not that you didn't want james there, it's just that you didn't want to see anybody at that particular moment. you had grown to love colder weekends. they were the perfect excuse to avoid any unwanted trips to hogsmeade that would usually lead to you getting in trouble because barty had a habit of setting off a dozen dungbombs to poke at mulciber and snape. as satisfying as it was, you had gotten enough detentions that year and you weren't exactly prepared to receive another howler.

so, you just couldn't miss out on the perfect opportunity to go up into the astronomy tower and read in the peaceful atmosphere. it had always been much calmer up there compared to the other parts of hogwarts.

"reading." you replied flatly, returning your gaze back to the text in front of you. or at least you pretended to do so. no matter how hard you tried, you could not focus again, so you kept your eyes on the same sentence while you waited for him to do something. for a moment, you wondered what he had been up to before he found you. he peeked over your shoulder to take a better look at the writing.

you did not say a word, and you realised that if you sat there pretending to read while waiting for him to leave you alone would most likely take hours, so you continued trailing your eyes over the letters, and got lost in the story once again.

what you didn't notice is that he got invested too, completely by accident. it wasn't james' intention to come down there and read with you, he wasn't even sure what you were up to and all he wanted was to see you, but there he was, reading from behind your shoulder in the tranquil ambient of the tower.

it was when he suddenly asked you to wait before flipping the page that you realised he had been reading with you all along, and you squinted your eyes at him with a glint of curiosity in them.

"what are you doing?" you quiered. the sudden shift in the atmosphere took him off guard a bit, and he gulped when you locked your eyes with his own.

"reading?"

"didn't know that was a synonym for being an annoying little git."

"i'm not that bad." he defended himself, trying to look back at the letters. you scoffed.

"i thought you hated books." you hid the writing away from his gaze and quirked an eyebrow in amusement.

"i don't hate them. i just prefer not to read." he responded, sounding a lot more cocky than intended which drew a chuckle from you.

"way to impress a girl." you rolled your eyes.

"i am professional at it." you laughed in his face.

"at least you're honest," you shrugged, he furrowed his eyebrows in puzzlement, "merlin, are you daft? what i mean is, you're staying true to yourself. not pretending that you enjoy something just to sweep me off my feet. it's admirable."

"of course i am! i could never lie to you. you're the most beautiful creature i have ever beheld in my sight." you let out an exaggerated sound of disgust, pressing your palm against his face and pushing him away, "lay off, romeo."

"oh!" he stood up suddenly, putting his hand over his heart dramatically and looking up, "with love’s light wings did i o’erperch these walls, for stony limits cannot hold love out. " he glanced back at you. you guffawed, looking at him in bewilderment, "where on earth have you managed to hear that?"

"seen romeo and juliet at the theatre during holidays." you cocked an eyebrow at him. never would you have thought that james potter was the one who'd take interest in muggle literature. "got a favourite scene?"

james pursed his lips in thought. "the morning after." he wiggled his eyebrows and sat back down.

"that's disgusting." you laughed.

"i'm only joking, i think the balcony one would be my favourite. i'd say it's very romantic," he shrugged with a sly smirk, "and it also made me feel the least emotional pain, if you know what i mean." he put a hand to his chest for dramatic effect and sighed.

"oh, merlin." you rolled your eyes playfully, letting out a snigger at his act. "look, i'm gonna be straightforward with you right now," you began. james sat up straight. you held back a laugh, poor fool probably thinks you'll return his sorry little feelings.

"you're not nearly as distasteful as i thought you were." you poked his arm. james looked a bit perplexed, almost as if he was expecting something more (which he was).

but then he laughed breathlessly, seeming more proud than disappointed. you couldn't help but chuckle. he bit the inside of his cheek in thought as he took in the sight of you, wondering how in the hell he got so lucky to know you. you may not feel the same way, but you surely make his life seem like an utopia, even though you're quite mean to him.

"continue, please." he reached over your arm to turn the page. you were rather intrigued by whatever that was.

"hold on for a second. why are you here, exactly?" you leaned forward to prop your chin in the palm of your hand, observing his face attentively as he scratched the back of his neck in thought.

"i guess i wanted to see you." he responded honestly.

"and there i was hoping you had something exciting to tell me." he chuckled lowly. you had come to notice that his voice was getting deeper. it wasn't high pitched and annoying anymore, definitely a lot less infuriating.

"wait, i didn't finish–" he tried to stop you before you could turn the page. "sorry, guess you gotta read faster."

"that isn't fair."

"i beg to differ."

"you're so not cool."

"then why d'you keep pining over me?" james opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. he huffed and crossed his arms. you smiled in victory, laughing when he stuck his tongue out at you.

***

by the end of year four, you had read about ten books together. he even read muggle poetry to you in the hospital wing when you got sick, which, to nobody's surprise, lead to what seemed like never-ending teasing from barty and evan (who were also james' biggest hypemen aside from the marauders). when you looked back at it a few years later, you realised that it was the moment when your first romantic feelings for him started blooming, though you would have never admitted it at the stubborn and rebellious age of fourteen. you were headstrog, a bit in denial as pandora liked to say, and top of it off, you were hard to please. in between all of that was james, who wasn't subtle about being head over heels for you in the least bit, and who would have done anything to get your attention. a match made in heaven, really.

you loved to tease him about it. he sometimes wondered why he had to be the one to fall in love with you. that's where the worst part of it all came in; feeling insecure, comparing himself to his friends, secretly wishing he was sirius (since all the gryffindor heartthrob had to do to win a girl over was to wink in her direction) and an existential crisis as an extra in the package. you clearly were never interested in him, and he couldn't help but think you never would be. sometimes, all he was doing seemed pointless, but he kept telling himself that one day you'll love him the way he loves you.

when your fifth year rolled around, you thought he would've dropped the act by then. you had matured over the summer, or at least you believed you had, and you assumed he had too. you had what some may call a summer romance with some stupid muggle boy, and to everybody's surprise, you were the one to break his heart after realising that whatever you felt for him wasn't love. a little something was stopping you from loving him and you may or may not have attempted to obliviate yourself in order to forget about james. obviously, you failed. stupid idiot.

the entirety of your holidays, you kept wondering if james had got over you, or if he was more lucky than you when it came vacation romance. you thought about him meeting a girl who actually cared for him and returned his feelings instead of teasing him, a girl that could have made him forget you completely, a girl who he had a happy ending with. you rather hated the mere thought of that. thinking about it caused an unexplainable ache in your heart.

much to your own delight, you were totally wrong.

however, things were not the same as they were the three previous years. you two became almost inseparable. dorcas kept teasing james, calling him a thief, saying he took her best friend from her. he would play along, tease her back, and tell her that he's a better best friend anyway. it made your heart flutter in a disgustingly sweet way.

you hated the way he made you feel. you hated the way you wanted to see him more often instead of avoiding him. you hated the way he smiled at you. you hated the way he tried to make you more comfortable by pointing out that you are indeed just friends. you hated james potter, yet you couldn't get enough of him.

you would never admit it, though, no. he was still that stupid little boy who offered to teach you jinxes, that idiot who chased snape away from you like a proper knight in a shining armour, that tosser who's voice was still cracking when you read together in the tower, that adorable–

"do you fancy going to hogsmeade with me tonight?" james appeared from behind you the moment you exited the classroom after finishing with ancient runes.

"studying, sorry." you shrugged, pulling out a piece of parchment to remind yourself which class you had next. "really? that's more important than me?" he sighed in disappointment, trotting after you as you began making your way over to the transfiguration classroom.

"who said you're important to me?" you smirked and looked over your shoulder. he flipped you off with a playful eyeroll, chuckling at the way you looked so proud of yourself for that comment. "i'll meet you at the portrait hole at six." you added.

the two of you entered the classroom, laughing over some horrible joke he cracked on the way. you took your usual seat next to dorcas who shot you a funny look the moment you stepped through the door.

"what?" you deadpanned before slamming your book onto the table and flipping through the pages. "care to explain?"

"explain what?" you scrunched your face up at the amused look on her face.

"twat," she slapped your shoulder, "you and potter?" dorcas motioned her head towards him, and you looked his way to find him scribbling something down into sirius' book. he looked up just in time to meet your eyes and sent a smile your way. you grinned back and turned to your friend again.

"what about me and him?" you weren't quite sure where she was getting at with whatever the hell this was. she knew your relationship with james was platonic with a capital p, simple as that. she laughed in your face.

"dorcas! don't be ridiculous, he's only my friend." you leaned back in your seat, profusely blushing and crossing your arms over your chest. everybody knew that you and james were just friends. nothing more.

"i think you better tell him that." lily turned in her seat to face to you. mary, who was sitting next to her, only nodded her head which confirmed that she wasn't on your side either. and neither was marlene who looked rather amused observing you from the table next to yours. of course she wasn't, the fact that she fancied dorcas was more obvious than she thought.

"oh, please. he even calls himself my best friend, you lot are delusional."

"fuck, y/n, you're hopeless." dorcas groaned, exchanging some disappointed glances with the gryffindor girls. she let her head fall down onto the table in frustration. you scoffed, averting your eyes to james and keeping them there for a while.

that was how the rest of your fifth year went; you and james being friendly, him asking you to accompany him on some stupid adventures he often came up with, you playing hard to get, but agreeing to hang out in the end. all of that would usually be followed by dorcas'... and pandora's... and lily's... and pretty much everybody's pointless attempts to talk some sense into your head. you would brush them off, saying he's just a nice bloke who's nobody but just a good pal of yours. you even said it to sirius.

and all of you knew that wasn't true.

***

soon enough, you began your sixth year and james was starting to lose his mind. he was so in love with you, he could barely keep a calm act around you. hiding it became a lot more difficult. he was convinced that you thought he was over you, because why on earth would somebody still be friends with a person who rejected them and showed zero interest in a romantic relationship? he felt miserable. he wanted you by his side, but just friendship wasn't enough to ease the ache in his heart. one thing was for sure, and that was that he had to talk to you.

he needed to let you know that he still loved you, and pour out all of his feelings if it was necessary. he thought that if you rejected him again, he would drop the whole thing and really, truly settle for just being friends, and that is, if you end up wanting anything to do with him. it would be difficult, getting over you. it would hurt, coming to terms with it all would be an absolute nightmare. he would be heartbroken without a doubt, but he believed he could manage it if he tried hard enough. lies.

very conveniently, you and james got into a bit of trouble that day. that was a well-known concept to you both. neither of you completed your major muggle studies essay on time, hell, you hadn't even started with yours, so you decided to do the only rational thing. which was to ditch the class.

it was nerve-wracking, sneaking through the corridors and trying to avoid getting caught by mrs. norris, or filch, maybe even by a professor, but you managed to make it to the grand staircase. you thought you were going to succeed, you were so close, but surprise, surprise - you were caught by bloody dumbledore himself. instead of cooperating, you tried to make a run for it and hide in a broomstick closet, just in time for filch to catch you.

task failed successfully.

you weren't sure how you managed to dodge getting forbidden from going to hogsmeade or even leaving the school premise, as that was the punishment you both expected to get for running away from the headmaster, but you were more than grateful that the man settled for simply giving you detention.

"do you fancy going for a walk by the lake tonight?" you questioned when you finished cleaning the floor of the potions classroom after your poor attempt at skipping muggle studies.

"what?" james mumbled incoherently, bending over to pick up some crumpled up parchment under one of the seats.

"that was a yes or no question." you crossed your arms. you weren't sure where you were getting all of the confidence from, but you settled for blaming in on james and his self-assuring personality which had quite the influence on you, even though you willingly began spending a little too much time with him. you cursed mentally.

"wait, huh?" he stopped what he was doing, looking rather confused.

"was i not clear enough?" you rolled your eyes in a teasing manner.

"you're asking me to hang out?" his entire face lit up, a hopeful smile found its way to his lips. "yeah, silly, that's what friends do," you scoffed, though you were slightly crumbling on the inside, "so don't you dare treat it as a date." you quickly added, fixing your stance and straighteing your back to come off more relaxed. regardless of your shitty attempt at trying to pretend you were disinterested in him, james looked like he just won the lottery.

"of course." he scrambled to clean up the rest of the mess under the seats as fast as possible. he could not believe you. it truly seemed like he the odds were in his favour that day. just when he was planning on giving up and destroying everything, that simple question restored all the hope he had lost. that was the first time you asked him to hang out. it was usually him initiating everything. you quietly giggled at his overjoyed reaction, and a strange feeling washed over you. you ignored it, all of it, and settled for avoiding his gaze as much as you could for the last thirty minutes of detention.

eight o'clock rolled around so fast you could barely keep track of it. you were in a state of disarray - nervous, panicking and desperately trying to come up with some excuse you haven't used to brush james off before just so that you didn't have to show up. but that would be stupid, wouldn't it? you were the one who wanted to hang out. dorcas, evan, barty, regulus and even pandora were laughing at you, showing no signs of wanting to help you and refusing to give you any form of emotional support whatsoever.

"what great friends you are." you remarked sarcastically, pulling the first jumper you saw in your trunk over your head.

"isn't that his?" barty smirked devilishly, scanning the clothing item with his eyes. you furrowed your eyebrows, looking down just to see that the gryffindor jumper you put on did not in fact belong to you. your eyes went wide. all five of your friends convulsed with laughter when you scrambled to take it off. evan fell off of dorcas' bed right onto the hard floorboards.

"i don't know how it got here, but i swear it's not what you think!" regulus was clutching his stomach after joining evan on the floor, and you threw the jumper right in his face. pandora wiped some tears away with the sleeve of her shirt and then quietly chuckled again as she was trying to stop any more tears from coming.

"i will strangle you all, i'm not joking." you lifted your hands up in frustration, stomping back to your trunk and this time taking a shirt you were sure was yours.

"oh, c'mon, we're only teasing you," dorcas stood up, walking over to where you were and hugging you from behind, "i'm sure the laundry got mixed up." barty trailed off, and you could see him holding back a grin.

"right, but," dorcas pulled away from you and began walking backwards towards the door, "it would be quite romantic if you kept it after a nice shag, wouldn't it?"

"dorcas!" you screeched, and she was out of your reach before you even made it halfway towards the door. your friends burst into giggles again, or what was left of them, as evan and regulus were half-dead. you were a blushing mess, and you left your room resembling an angry child who was moments away from throwing a tantrum, but not without james' quidditch jumper in your hands.

you didn't notice the strange looks you were given by the students you passed by in the dungeons. you looked furious, with your jaw clenched and your face beet red, all while holding onto something which belonged to a certain dark-haired gryffindor. your thoughts did not seem to go in that direction even once. you could think of nothing but james.

the mere thought of him made you feel strange. it was a feeling that wasn't too familiar to you, but you had quite clear of an idea of what it could be and it was devouring you. simply looking at him made you feel giddy. his smile would make your heart jump. the light brush of his shoulder against yours would make you shiver. you were in love. but boy were you stubborn.

"who hurt you?" you stopped in your tracks when you heard james' voice come from behind you. you met his warm gaze. there it was, that flutter in your heart again. you blamed his smile for it. you almost cringed at yourself, you were so preoccupied by thinking of him that you failed to acknowledge his actual presence.

was he always that attractive? his eyes are so pretty. how's his skin that perfect? god, his lips look-

your swallowed harshly, feeling heat rush to your cheeks and the handsome boy standing in front of you gave you a questioning look. you cleared your throat before handing him his jumper.

"i found this in my trunk." you looked down in embarrassment, crossing your arms and fiddling with a loose thread on the sleeve of your shirt.

"oh!" he took it from your hands, his jaw fell slack, "how did that - there must've been mix up with the laundry."

"probably." you replied dryly, avoiding his gaze. "won't you be cold?" he questioned when he noticed how light the shirt you had on looked. the sleeves reached your elbows, the material was almost see through and certainly not suitable for chilly autumn weather.

"i'll manage." you shrugged lazily, looking down at the floor. those old tiles seemed rather amusing all of a sudden.

"put it on." you lifted your head. you looked at the clothing item, then at james. you sighed and reached for the soft material. "thanks," you mumbled under your breath, holding the jumper close to your chest in a tightening grip, "should we go now? or are we just gonna stand here like idiots?" you put on a smile, hoping it would look convincing enough and hide the embarrassing fact that you were nervous. really nervous. first date nervous. you may have had to remind yourself that that little hangout of yours was supposed to platonic. friendly. not romantic. definitely not a date with that boy who's life goal was to win you over because he was desperately in love with you. and he fucking succeeded.

you lost track of time. neither of you knew how many hours had passed or how long you'd been sitting at the shore, lost in conversations about something that may seem so irrelevant to the ears of others, but so important to the two of you. you found comfort in being able to open up to james. it was different than talking to dorcas, or evan, or any of your other friends. it warmed your heart, and in a strange way, it felt like home.

you only realised how late it had gotten when the sky above you turned dark and became covered with stars. finishing that date off with stargazing would have been a delight, but rain decided to make an unexpected visit and ruined your good plans.

you retreated inside together through one of the passageways james and the other three marauders managed to discover, tippy toeing your way through the corridors in attempt to go unseen and unheard. you successfully made it through the portrait hole without alerting a prefect, and you stepped through the door of james' room, sighing in relief. james could finally release the breath he was holding all the way down from the lake. that was one of the rare times he didn't fail at sneaking around without his cloak. you celebrated a tad bit too soon, though - the high pitched voice of a seventh year girl who was supposed to keep the peace at night came from behind you, and you froze in your spot. james gulped, making eye contact with you before turning to face her.

"potter, what on earth are you doing outside at this hour?" james laughed uncomfortably, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie as he tried to come up with an excuse, "i was uh," he let out a cough, making the prefect eye him suspiciously, "i was using the bathroom."

"why aren't you wearing your pyjamas?"

"i was busy doing, uhm, something else, y'know, forgot to change and stuff."

"and what is that thing that you were doing, exactly?"

"i don't really think you'd wanna know." he grinned in misery, and you had to slap your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from making any sounds. the girl's eyes widened as she realised what the younger meant. she turned beet red and massaged her temples in frustration.

"merlin's beard, oh, fuck– shit! get out of my sight, we'll pretend this never happened. shoo, leave."

"sorry." he gave her one last awkward smile before sliding into his room, slamming the door shut and leaning against it. "remind me not to do that ever again."

"why not? that was pretty hilarious." you snickered at his demeanor - the boy's cheeks were flushed red from embarrassment.

"that poor girl probably thinks i was wanking in there." he groaned, waddled away from the door and slumped down onto his bed. the springs in the mattress squeaked from the impact. "if i don't get kicked out this year, then i must be a walking felix fucking felicis." he continued rambling as he began digging through the mess under his bed.

"where are your friends?" you looked around the room curiously. the other marauders were nowhere to be seen. "they're sleeping in the girls dormitory tonight."

you hummed as you took a seat on the floor beside him and eyed some of the items he had scattered around. a couple of chocolate frogs, some crumpled pieces of parchment and quills, a few records, and an empty bag of whatever the hell he got at zonko's next to a small stack of books. "so, what do we do now?" you looked his way, and he shrugged as he ducked under his bed, with only his legs peeking out. the action drew a snort from you. he dusted himself off as he dove back from under the bed.

"can you help me out?" he scratched the back of his head.

"what are we looking for here, exactly?" you questioned as you peeked underneath. "no clue. i'm trying to find something fun we can do."

"have you still got that book about jinxes?" james blinked in surprise. "with the ones i offered to teach you, what, like four years ago?" he gave you an amused smile.

"yeah, figured i should make up for breaking your heart or whatever." and definitely not because you realised that it was a perfect date idea. definitely not.

"i might, if sirius hasn't snatched it." he shrugged and then you both started digging through the dark and dusty mess of books, boxes and smelly socks.

"is this," your hand grabbed onto something which felt like a glass bottle, "muggle alcohol?!" you laughed at the way james' face went pale.

"i swear that's not mine!" he immediately defended himself, reaching for the bottle desperately.

"no need to lie, potter, i've a fair share of that stashed under my bed as well."

by two in the morning, both of you were absolutely pissed, but had no intention of stopping until the bottle was completely empty. so much for the jinxes.

"have you ever shagged somebody?" it was strange. the alcohol seemed to have effects similar to what was known as the veritaserum. so apart from the constant laughing fits it gave you, it made you both feel rather confident. so confident you kept spilling out truths and secrets not even your friends knew. and, well, it made you flirty. especially yourself. just a few hours ago, you were freaked out by the mere thought of getting involved romantically with the boy in front of you, but now you were shamelessly asking each other questions about your love lives. not to mention that you managed to lose your clothes in the process. james was shirtless, and you lost your trousers.

"how dare you ask me such a question?" james gasped dramatically, drawing a snort from you, "i reckon your body count is higher than mine."

"are you calling me a slut, potter?" you asked in amusement, he shrugged lazily with a smirk on his lips, "no, i'm calling you more attractive than myself."

"why thank you, my dear friend," you smiled, feeling another surge of confidence shoot through you after receiving the drunken compliment. friend. that word suddenly sounded strange.

"i haven't." james finally spoke after a few moments of silence. that little soberity you had left was what held you back from smiling.

"me neither." james bit his tongue. he felt like he could breathe normally, at last. you were relieved, and so was he.

"virgins." he let himself fall back onto the floor. you scoffed, snatching the bottle out of his hand.

by the time the sun had started to rise, you were fast asleep - james sitting down with his back up against the wall, and you on the floor with his jumper posing as your pillow. james was lucky that lily and the girls agreed to take in his three idiot friends that night because he would have had to deal with endless teasing if they had been present.

the sound of a loud knock on the door shook you both awake, and your head was met with the bottom of sirius' bed when you tried to sit up. you groaned out in pain, letting your head fall down onto the red jumper that smelled of that specific vanilla-scented bodywash only james used. you hated how you loved it.

"potter!" dorcas' voice pierced through the door from the other side, and the boy groggily sat up, making his way over to the door. the hangover headache was unbearable, but it was something he could have expected as an aftermath of last night's turn of events. the whiskey bottle lied empty on the floor. he wasn't sure how either of you managed it, but he woke up to a clean floor, and no stomach-turning stench of vomit.

"you knocked?" he leaned against the doorframe, his vision a bit blurry as he barely had time to think or grab his glasses after being woken up so suddenly.

"have you by any chance seen y/n?"

he wordlessly opened the door wider, and a very exhausted, hungover looking creature came into dorcas' view.

"what's this?" dorcas smirked, resting her hands on her hips.

"uh, a friendly hangout? what else? wait, where are my trousers?" you murmured, not quite sure of what you were stating as your brain hadn't woken up properly just yet. the piercingly painful headache was not helping.

"friendly, huh?" she eyed you both with a hint of mischief in her eyes. "yes, friendly." james confirmed.

dorcas sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her pointer finger and thumb. she felt a migrane incoming. you tiredly stood up from the cold floor, feeling a wave of pain shoot through your back from lying on such a hard surface. "goddammit, remind me to sleep on the bed next time." you winced, stretching in attempt to soothe the pain.

dorcas left, with marlene trailing along with her (to nobody's surprise), after you and james decided to head down to the kitchen to ask the house elves for some leftovers from breakfast since you missed it. you were lucky that the elves loved you both, and you were given a few pieces of toast as well as some strawberry jam.

you sat in the gryffindor common room, quietly chatting with james. mary and remus joined you and they took their seats in the chairs in the corner of the room, along with sirius who claimed that sitting in between remus' legs was more comfortable than any armchair. you and james, however, were squashed together on the sofa. you recieved several questioning looks from other students. not necessarily because you were a slytherin in the gryffindor common room, but because you sat so close to one another. you were practically sitting in his lap. someone unaware of the status of your relationship would have assumed you were dating. james' friends noticed too, but decided not to say anything, though they couldn't hide those proud smiles that found their ways to their lips.

***

you could not stop thinking about that night for days. and you did everything you could to forget about it. you drowned yourself in school work just to wipe the thought of it out of your mind. hell, you did extra credit. you even bullied pandora into being a model for your paintings for two weeks straight, and went as far as to make yourself accompany barty on his daily adventures where he was essentially begging for detention. but nothing was helping. that was the best date of your life. not like you had many to chose from, but it was the best. shit.

"oh, for fuck's sake! it was not a date! shut up!" you said to yourself, or to be more specific, your malfunctioning brain. you were speed-walking through the corridors, your breath uneven and cheeks red.

you came back from the gryffindor dormitories to the dungeons after another friendly hangout with james. all those things you did to forget about the first one ended up seeming rather pointless. much to your dismay, you realised you can't go too long without seeing him, as it turned out. the boy successfully found his way into your heart after all those years. and you didn't even know why. well, him being james potter should be enough of an explanation. you were visibly flushed. dorcas raised both of her eyebrows once she saw you and then fell back into her pillow, shaking with laughter.

"oh merlin, you are so red." she pointed at your face, giggling uncontrollably.

"great observation skills, meadowes." you responded sarcastically, pulling james' jumper over your head and tossing it onto your bed. yes, you forgot (read: didn't want) to return it, and no, he didn't mind because he wanted you to have it.

"where's everyone?" you quickly changed the subject. you were not ready to talk about whatever the hell your relationship with james was at that moment. you were pretty sure you wouldn't ever be ready to talk about it.

"well, regulus is probably throwing snape into the lake. again. barty and evan are surely snogging somewhere and i think pandora went for a poo, but i'm not sure." dorcas shrugged. her eyes didn't leave you, which obviously meant she was curious about what happened while you were gone. of course she was, she was one of your best friends after all. one of them, just like james. she may have got strange thrills from teasing you, but she cared about you and she made sure you knew that. so did the rest of your friends, even though they were all out and about in that given moment.

you sighed, covering your face with your hands. you felt guilty - not because you were in love with james, hell no, but because it took you so long to admit it to yourself. you never once thought of his feelings or what you've been putting him through for all those years. the first time you felt a bit different while he was by your side, you chalked it up to some weird feelings of admiration and tried to forget about it. but then it just kept happening, and you couldn't simply brush it off and pretend it's nothing. you weren't even sure why you kept lying to yourself; maybe it was because you were so set on the two of you being just friends, maybe it was because you got so used to his presence and his embarassingly obvious eagerness that you couldn't imagine living your life without all of that in it.

tears welled up in your eyes, and you bit the inside of your cheek to prevent any sounds from escaping. dorcas was not as oblivious as you thought she might be. she could immediately tell something was wrong and she rushed over to your side, wrapping her arms around you until you were comfortable enough to speak.

"dorcas, i'm in love with him," you cried, clutching her shirt as she held you close to her chest. "i know, darling." she sighed.

"i'm such a bloody idiot."

"i would usually say that's not true, but i don't really think i'd be doing either of us a favour if i denied it." that drew a laugh from you, but you quickly returned to your messy state. dorcas kept rubbing comforting circles into your back until your shoulders stopped shaking and you were able to speak properly without breaking out into tears again.

"am i an awful person?" you quiered, staring into what seemed like a void to you. you looked lifeless, and dorcas sighed, putting her hand on your knee.

"y/n, we both know you aren't. and james knows that too."

"but what if i am? dorcas, i hurt him. i treated him like a puppet and i never took his feelings seriously."

"well, i can't argue that," she bit the inside of her cheek, "but you know, you couldn't have exactly done much about it. you can't just force yourself to love somebody. and some people take a while to come to terms with their feelings, and that's okay, so don't you dare blame yourself for that. he's still in love with you, anyway."

"i could have just not befriended him." you picked at your nails as you spoke.

"that wouldn't have helped him much, would it?"

"it wouldn't make him feel as miserable."

"maybe, but you'd break his heart either way and the poor bloke would probably still feel the same. look, he was annoying as shit, and you may have been a bit, well–"

"evil?" you interrupted. she covered your mouth with her hand. you blinked in surprise and she laughed at you.

"alright, yeah, but y/n, don't you think you could fix that now? you know, do something about it at last?"

"don't make me make you, 'cause you might be the next person to get dunked into the lake. i'm feeling particularly ruthless today." regulus suddenly appeared at the door, leaning against it with his arms crossed.

"how long have you been standing there?" you spoke once dorcas retrieved her hand.

"just got here, actually."

"as i was saying," dorcas raised her voice and then put a finger over her mouth to motion for regulus to shut up. he raised his hands up in defeat, "do what you need to do."

"you know what's tomorrow though, right?" regulus interrupted once again. you and dorcas exchanged confused glances, but her face shifted into something that seemed more amused than questioning.

***

"oi, potter!" you pushed open the door of the great hall. the laughter around james faded away and everybody's focus was now shifted to you standing at the entrance, but you were looking for one person's eyes in particular.

it didn't take you very long to find them. james' surprised gaze met your rather nervous one, and you made your way towards the gryffindor table, just like he skipped over to the slytherin one four years ago.

you slid into the empty spot next to him and smiled while you were waiting for him to say something. just like last time, you failed to notice the way all of the students around you chuckled as they watched the show unfold. all because of you and james, yet again.

"hello." he sat up straight, holding back a smile that wanted to make its way to his lips.

despite being friends for all those years, you never once had the chance to sit next to each other at lunch, other than that one particular day in your second year. so he took the sudden change in your behaviour as a good sign, especially after the events of the previous night, and the night at the lake.

"can i ask you something?" you leaned forward on the table with your hand supporting your chin. james furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, and then his mouth fell open in surprise. he laughed breathlessly, shaking his head at your teasing smile.

"go ahead." he shrugged. his eyes haven't left you since you entered the great hall. it was not making your job easier, but you weren't gonna let that pretty face of his stop you from doing what you came to do.

"wanna be my boyfriend?" you smiled stupidly and it was followed by hollering and wooing from all of the students at the table, including his friends, and your own from behind you, "okay, now sn–" barty was shut up by evan's hand clamping over his mouth before he could finish that. pandora was violently blowing her nose into a tissue already. regulus seemed unphased, even though he wasn't. and dorcas looked like she finally discovered the true meaning of inner peace.

james did a double-take, and then grinned like an absolute idiot. you were furiously tapping your foot against the tiles, but froze when he cupped your cheek with his hand.

"can i kiss you?" you nodded, biting your lip to hold back the squeal that was threatening to escape. james was glowing. he grinned, launching himself forward. his lips finally met yours. your hand instinctively found its way to the back of his neck, pushing him further against you. his lips were so soft, and he kissed you like you were the most precious thing in the world. you could feel each other smiling into the kiss, and you broke apart giggling like two fools.

"is that a yes?" you quiered, just in case.

"oh god, yes." then he kissed you again, only to be pulled back by sirius who had just about enough of the pair of you, "some of us are trying to eat, thank you very much."

"sod off." james smacked the back of his head. he could not care less about what anybody else thought at that moment. sirius shook his head as he exchanged a knowing glance with his own lover, and neither of the boys could be bothered to hide their smiles.

"i wanted to do that for six years." james leaned his forehead against yours. you quickly pecked his lips again. "don't worry, i'll make it up to you."

3K notes · View notes

kazumitbj · 7 months

Text

Hair braiding assitance

With Ghost!

Pairing: cod!Ghost ('22) x gn!reader (implied to have long hair.)

Just pure, pure fluff/ comfort maybe if you squint a little

This is based on one of my character ai bots:

https://beta.character.ai/chat?char=Vj8t5dxuIqdxyCavkWO_NeB1dJYby90RA4iuuCiiq18

Enjoy!

...

You sat in the infirmary, looking down at your bandaged hands with a frown. You had gotten hurt on a mission in the, as you yourself said, stupidest way possible.

You toppled over a dead body on a mission, and promptly slammed face first into the concrete ground- only barely being able to shield your face with your hands.

And now, your hands were all bloodied and contused.

You were so, so mad at yourself for getting your hands injured to the point of not being able to use them properly for a while.

You couldn't do the most basic things now, since basically everything in the military required your hands. And you could NOT USE THEM. It was driving you crazy.

...

Ghost had sat with you in the infirmary for a while now, and sighed quietly as he noticed your lingering discomfort, not just because of the pain.. but because your hair was a mess.

You always loved your hair, it was long and silky, since you always took great care of it.

And now, you couldn't even brush it on your own. It looked like a MESS.

Strands of your hair were tangled, and slightly knotted. You just sat on the bed in the infirmary, absolutely sulking away.

Ghost, having been your teammate, and friend, for the longest time-

Knew how important your hair was to you.

...

"You want be to brush it, darlin'?" Ghost quietly muttered, tilting his head to the side as his eyes met yours.

Your head snapped into his direction as he spoke up, effectively ripping you out of your thoughts.

"..it's no big dea-" You started, too prideful to admit that you, in fact, would need his.. help.

"I insist." He interrupted you, his tone shifting to a bit of a stern tone, albeit still gentle.

You just grumbled and nodded quietly.

...

Simon sat behind you on the infirmary bed, suprisingly carefully parting through your tangled hair. He worked through it with his fingers first, to avoid tugging on your tender scalp with the brush too much afterwards.

He really was.. suprisingly good at it.

"Hm, it's not looking too bad luv" He muttered after a while, having started to carefully slide the brush through your hair. He made sure to firmly, yet carefully, hold the strand of hair he was detangling in his hand, to avoid tugging at your scalp throughout the whole ordeal.

It was a calming motion.

Starting from your scalp, then tenderly all the way down to the ends of your hair.

Ghost knew that you always braided your hair in a particular way, and he hated to see you so upset because you couldn't do it on your own because of your injured hands..

So he decided to just ask.

"You want me to braid it?" Ghosts deep voice rang through your thoughts, and you simply nodded- realising that he'd do it anyways.

It would be nice, either way.

"Can't promise it'll be the prettiest, but i'll make the best out of it" He responded to your nod, running his fingers through your hair affectionately.

...

You were suprised at how good he actually was with braiding, you couldnt really see what he was doing, since he sat behind you.. but you could feel how naturally he parted the three strands off each time, and the way he braided them together into a comfortably firm braid each time.

It felt comforting, almost.

"How do you know how to braid?" You asked after a while, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"..." Ghost hesitated for a moment, letting out a breathy chuckle.

"I watched tutorials, lovie"

(THATS IT! <3)

#ghost x reader #ghost #cod mw2 #ghost cod #ghost cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #call of duty #comfort #fluff #cod fluff #ghost fluff #simon riley x reader

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blouisparadise · 1 month

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Today we have the fourth part of our hurt/comfort rec list for you! There are tons of amazing fics on this list that we hope you'll show some love to. If you missed the previous parts, you can find part one here, part two here, and part three here. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Wanna Feel the Edges Start to Burn | Explicit | 6,111 words

Harry gives him a gentle smile. “Feeling a little bit better?” Louis nods tentatively. “I think so yeah. Thank you so much for being so kind, but you really didn’t need to do this.” He lifts his unfortunately still shaky hand and runs it haphazardly through his hair. “It was just a spilled tea, I totally overreacted. I’m a bit embarrassed to be honest.” Harry scoffs. “Are you kidding me? Don’t be. I saw the whole thing, that guy was way out of line. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Louis gives him what he’s sure is a watery smile. “Erm thank you. I wouldn’t normally admit this to a stranger, but you’ve already seen me cry today so what the hell?” He forces himself to let out a weak laugh. “The thing is, my period is due any day now and sometimes the birth control pills make my emotions go a little haywire. I think that’s what happened.”

2) To Love Without Reason | Explicit | 8,894 words

“Come on in, soldier,” Louis pats Harry’s chest and walks away, leaving Harry to follow behind. Harry stands in the living room, looking around at Louis’ dwelling. Family pictures placed high on a shelf, certificates of Louis’ practice, and other trinkets that make Harry entirely too nostalgic. “I have to warn you,” Louis says as he puts the kettle on, the water droplets from his hair trickling down the golden skin of his back. “The door jams if you lock it so you'll have to leave it ajar.” Harry acknowledges with a soft hum, too entranced by Louis’ glistening skin to form a coherent reply.

3) Wanna Do Nothing With You | Explicit | 9,606 words

The accident happens in the stupidest way possible. One minute Louis is demonstrating a skateboard trick he’d just learned for Lottie, the next he’s waking up in a hospital. He’s told that he wasn’t unconscious the entire ride, but he has absolutely no recollection of it. One second he’s fucking around in his own garden and the next he’s being assaulted with the strong sterile scent of a hospital. So. There’s that.

4) Let Me Be Your Good Night | Explicit | 10,520 words

Louis goes on a shit Valentines date and Harry's the cute waiter who takes him home

5) For The Love Of Biscuits | Mature | 16,574 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

The thing about hybrids is that their animal instincts make them jumpy. And quite often lends them to being owned. Harry Styles wasn't looking to purchase a half-breed. But sometimes things just happen. And owning a fox/human hybrid was something that happened.

6) Works Like A Charm | Explicit | 18,088 words

Ever since Louis joined the team in fifth year, a few facts have become set in stone. One: Louis is the best chaser in Hogwarts. Two: Harry is the best beater in Hogwarts. Three: They do not get along. So it’s really unfair of Liam to think that forcing them to spend time together as Louis recovers from his injury will make them the best of friends. The last thing Louis would do is get along with that git.

7) Soup Of The Day | Explicit | 19,958 words

It had been the single minded goal for them since college and seemed simple enough. 1. Study hard. 2. Open their dream restaurant. 3. Take the culinary world by storm. What could possibly go wrong?

8) Under The Rain Or Under The Snow | Explicit | 20,667 words

Christmas AU where they broke up a month ago but Harry shows up at Louis’ childhood home for the holidays. Louis didn’t tell his mum about their breakup so staying with them is not ideal. Harry stays.

9) Heart Eyes | Explicit | 21,467 words

Harry is a dedicated sentinel with a strong aversion to demons, and Louis is the lovesick incubus who will go to any lengths to win Harry's heart.

10) It Was All By Design (‘Cause I’m A Mastermind) | Explicit | 21,986 words

“You can’t be serious. You think I would be so awful to work for - you would rather quit?” “Don’t be all high and mighty about it,” Harry scoffs. “Surely you would do the same.” “I’m not being high and mighty. It’s called being professional.” “Really?” Harry pushes. “You’d work diligently under me with no complaints? You’d do whatever I asked of you?” “That would be my job, so yeah.” Harry shakes his head. “I’d work you so fucking hard,” he says slowly, “that you’d have to quit.”

11) Thrown To The Wolves | Explicit | 21,681 words

Louis is a human living in the Styles' wolf pack who can't stop getting into trouble, and Harry is the soon-to-be alpha who thinks keeping Louis at arm's length is the safest option.

12) Letters To June | Mature | 41,150 words

It's 1915, Europe is in the middle of the Great War. Omega Louis decides to join the Letter Home Project to become someone’s penfriend. Through this he meets a lovely soldier who hasn't got anyone else to send a letter to. Along with his letter, comes a picture of the most handsome alpha Louis has ever seen.

13) Catch Me If I Fall | Explicit | 47,099 words

Lovers when on the stage but bitter rivals as soon as they step off, Harry and Louis have butted heads from the moment they first met. Locked in a stalemate that they hope to ride out until graduation, things take a turn when Harry learns that Louis is hiding a secret.

14) As We Are | Explicit | 48,268 words

Louis doesn't think much when he's asked to meet up with the alpha of the pack two hours from his own - he figures it's business as usual. But Harry Styles is anything but usual.

15) Once Burnt, Twice Shy | Explicit | 52,644 words

Louis and Harry are polar opposites in every way. Where Louis is a bestselling author from the city, Harry is a small-town firefighter who’s never left his home. Where Louis is spontaneous and spirited, Harry is introverted and calm, never straying from routine. When an ill-fated accident and an exceptionally intelligent tabby bring them together, they are forced to confront their pasts and forge a better beginning for themselves. Will sparks fly, or will it all go up in flames?

16) Of Lost Things | Explicit | 57,890 words

Louis comes with a familiarity Harry has never felt with anyone else before. After their fateful meeting, their chemistry became undeniable, and soon after, Harry had felt like he hit the jackpot when it came to finding the person he would spend the rest of his life with. But all relationships come with their own unique problems, and Harry soon realizes that their relationship is no different. When their problems go from unordinary to nearly bizarre in nature, he takes it upon himself to find an answer to their troubles. What he stumbles upon are terrifying coincidences between his and Louis’ story, and the ill-fated mythological couple, Orpheus and Eury. But it’s all they are; just coincidences, ones that feel as frighteningly familiar as Louis. Except… what if none of this is a coincidence? What if everything Harry has always seen as fiction is true, and myth—or rather, history, is about to repeat itself?

17) Sink Into Your Sunlight | Explicit | 79,562 words

In the grand scheme of things Louis did believe in love, what he didn’t believe was that he would ever find it in his life time for himself. Low and behold he would find it with someone he didn’t anticipate, now it was just a matter of having it work out the way he dreamed of.

18) Invisible String | Explicit | 84,726 words

Louis swears on his life that that man came out of literal nowhere and he thanks each lucky star for having good breaks in his car. This strange alpha also happens to be the most beautiful being Louis has laid his eyes on. For some unknown reason, the omega feels safe around the alpha. It might seem strange, but you can't always explain why or how things are the way they are. All you can really be sure of is that they happen for a reason. There's a higher power (call it what you want) that knows better and definitely knows more than you do.

19) Wind Beneath My Wings | Explicit | 93,131 words

As an omega carer that works at a rescue and rehabilitation centre for feral alphas and omegas, Louis has experienced all sides of ferality. So Harry- a cold, near mute, non-receptive alpha- was a challenging case for everyone at Phoenix Rehab Centre. Louis wasn’t expecting to feel drawn towards an aloof Harry, or to form a slow bond with him. He certainly was not expecting for his entire life to change in unforeseen ways.

20) You Were My Because | Explicit | 109,089 words

Note: Please be sure to read the tags and any warnings.

Louis has battled the demons of his past for years now and has little hope of finding happiness for himself. Especially now that a school reunion is taking place and the memories of his school days are suddenly coming back with full force. But after rain always comes sunshine, in Louis’ case in the form of his old schoolmate Harry. A story about healing, friendship, finding trust and love.

21) Drops of Jupiter | Mature | 121,826 words

In a small, sleepy town ruled by prejudice, Louis Tomlinson runs his grandmothers shop for the occult. He finds comfort in his tarot cards, his friends, and a dog that he doesn't have room for. He thought the worst he'd have to deal with would be bigotry, until a new sheriff arrives with a headstrong little girl that's impossible not to fall in love with. But what happens when a string of break-ins leads to a brutal attack, and the towns' darling is murdered right under their Sunday hats? A murder that just so happens to bear the same modus operandi as similar homicides in neighbouring states. Has the killer been circling Virginia, or is he a local of Lavender Hills? And what will Louis do when the charming Sheriff Styles starts to suspect him of such a heinous crime?

22) Sewn Into You | Explicit | 167,485 words | Sequel

Harry Styles thinks soulmates are a fairytale, or in other words-a lie. He has no interest in entertaining anything that has anything to do with the very name that had been etched along his collarbone since his eighteenth birthday. Louis Tomlinson won't be answering to another alpha for the rest of his life if he can help it. Fuck happy endings, his soul mate can choke on it. Problem is, Harry needs a personal assistant to save his family's business, Louis needs the cash to officially move off of his childhood best-friend's couch. They can manage. Surely, nothing will go wrong.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#bottom louis #top harry #larry #fic recs #blp fic recs #hurt/comfort

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