#your just covering your own prejudices

[fluffypotatey]

This is random but how do you think the knights would react to finding out about Will?

Like, Will is supposedly a sorcerer who died for Arthur yet Arthur still calls people like him evil to Merlin's face.

I feel like a couple of them would be very salty about that. What are your thoughts?

hmmmm

well firstly, i think Lancelot would find a way to speak to Merlin in private and actually help the dude mourn for his friend.

Gwaine, i think, would probably do something similar, like be Merlin's shoulder to cry on whenever it's Will's anniversary or birthday. his own thoughts on magic (as far as i'm aware) is very vague, like sure, he'll fight magical creatures and evil sorcerers but idk if he's someone who believes all magic is evil. so, if questioned on why he would honor a "sorcerer" like Will, he'd probably reply "so? he was Merlin's friend, and Merlin's never been one to befriend enemies"

Leon could feel pretty conflicted because camelot's ideals are all he's known. he was born in Uther's court and is the only one who was a knight for Uther and Arthur. if anything, i think Leon chooses to stay far away whenever Will is brought up in conversation.

Percival is actually the most neutral, i think, when it comes to this. one, he never knew Will. two, he wasn't raised in camelot. and three, most of his information comes from his friends about Will. tbh, he's probably the mediator when the topic comes up.

idk about Elyan tho. he left home to make his mark on the world and who knows the kind of people he ran into (magical or not, good or bad, morally gray or black and white). then he comes back home and learns that his father was executed for treason because he housed a man who wielded magic without his knowledge, leaving his dear sister alone and heartbroken.

who is he mad at? is he upset at the sorcerer who took advantage of his father's kindness? is he upset at uther, blinded by anger and paranoia, who didn't even bother to listen to his father's side of the story?

i think out of all the knights, it is Elyan who understands that Will was a man who cared for his friend and his home and despite the consequences, was willing to risk it all to help defeat the bandits terrorizing his home. Elyan looks at Merlin and how his face goes slack at the thought of his childhood friend, and understands that in the grand scheme of things, Will's life was a victim to this decade long trist against an intangible enemy.

#or i could just be projecting my own headcanons #but hey that's what they're for #tbh i don't think merlin even talks about will unless you were gwen or lancelot #like you have to be a level 600 friend to unlock THAT #also about the knight's reactions or thoughts on how arthur reacted insensitively to merlin's friend i think there might be some conflicted #feelings about that. bc this was someone merlin knew since...forever #sorcerer or no his death is going to greatly affect him and reminding merlin about the evils of magic is NOT helpful at all #(of course will wasn't a sorcerer and it was merlin who will was covering which just added to merlin's grief but that's not the point) #i think lancelot and gwaine would be the ones who might admonish arthur in like a 'stop putting your foot in your mouth and let him grieve' #kind of way bc they know that before he can even understand why merlin grieves he is going to have to unlearn a lot of prejudices #but yeah #my only problem with this is because since the knights are kind of pushed back in s4 and s5 we don't really get a true sense on their #thoughts about magic. just that they're loyal to arthur and that's it #anyone else is free to add their thoughts about this #bbc merlin #knights of the round table #sir leon #sir lancelot #lancelot #sir gwaine #gwaine #sir percival #sir elyan #elyan #merlin #merlin emrys #headcanons

[honeykaes]

le sacrifice du sang

vampire!neuvillette x reader II 2.6k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no set pronouns, vampire au, set in 17th century esc france, blood, biting, ritual sex, self harm (neuvillette cuts his wrist for the ritual), soulmate, xenophobia, praise, creampies, monsterfucking adjacent, unedited

synopsis: for decades the village has been thriving despite the vampiric armies ravaging throughout europe. Cast aside for being an outsider, you are deemed as a sacrifice to a vampire lord to stop the attacks in the region.

Night seemed endless. Most days you would barely see the sun bright outside under the sky. All you could do was sigh, shifting on the soft sheets of the grandiose bed you rested in. A long chiffon nightgown covered your form and rested right at your ankles. You balled your fists on the ornate patterns of the comforter of the bed, golden and navy threads showing off just how much it was worth.

You turned your head to the stained glass window seeing the sun hiding behind the horizon and stars beginning to peak out in the darkening sky—the multicolor light pigmented in blues and purples reflected on the ground as its shadow grew signaling the fleeting light.

Part of you is surprised you're up so early in your new sleep schedule but another part of you questions why you’re even alive right now to look outside the stained glass window. Three weeks ago you were set to die, yet you have lived in the lap of luxury.

All because of him.

Vampires have been ravaging Europe for a few decades now, causing an all-out war in some regions of the land. Your family insisted on heading there despite it, as traders would surely flourish against the nobles desperate for supplies and your nativity allowed you to follow them. 

Trying to settle and trade in Europe began in disaster as xenophobia grew rapid—war, fear, and prejudices clouding their judgment. You lost your family very early on when you arrived in Europe, losing a lot and trying to scour and try to collect wherever you could to mourn and live. France became the best option to live in since the fighting was beginning to cease in the country.

In the southeast part of the region, you settled in a village. You remained there for five years, trying to make ends meet as a seamstress. You always wondered why vampires didn’t attack and slaughter you and the rest of the village as you heard others had faced. The village had not seen an inkling of the dissipating war around it, and you later discovered why.

To appease the vampiric lords and ladies of France, human sacrifices were commenced—one to save all. You weren’t completely sure who the lord of this area even was, yet you were about to find out after the Judge of the town deemed yourself as the sacrifice.

You begged, you pleaded, you cried but no one in the town so much as pitied you. In their eyes, you were an outsider; someone even more worthy of being sacrificed than “one of their own”. Bullshit is what you wanted to say but you didn’t have the power to defy it.

That man eventually collected you after, the lord of the southern region of France—Monsieur Neuvillette. When he descended, in navy and black, you thought he was an angel and thought the village already killed you thinking he was an angel instead. 

He didn’t seem human at all. 

Long white hair cascaded down his back and lowly tied towards the end with streaks of gradient blue flowing through it. His lavender eyes, pupil slit, and irises glowing, drinking up every unconscious tick and stubble expression in your body and face. His face was stern, but his eyes seemed kind.

He asked you one question that night.

“What is your name, dear?” 

You answered as his eyes softened, lifting his hand to your eyes to cover your gaze

“Then, (Y/n). I’m sorry circumstances have brought us here.”

Darkness was all you were faced with. In a way, you thought death had arrived, only to wake up in a beautifully decorated room in a château when you awoke.

Neuvillette was kind albeit stoic during your time in his château. Many nights, you’d have dinner with him—his eyes just on you as he quietly drank his silver chalice filled with the iron-rich stench of blood from someone who wasn’t you.

Those nights he would reveal more information about himself and you’d do the same. He told you how he was a lord and has been “in this state” for several millennia. He told you about the rise and fall of empires and even vampiric ones history had all but forgotten. 

Neuvillette also discussed how most of the sacrifices ended up working as servants in the château who he called “Melusines”. 

In the second week since your “sacrifice”, he also mentioned another vampire lord living in this château—Lady Furina. He talked about how eager she was to interact with her subjects, including yourself but he had told her to stay away from you for now as her bloodlust was unpredictable.

But one slip of the tongue had changed the casual conversation into something more serious.

“...She is not to bother you, yet. Not before you are turned at the least.”

Your eyebrow furrowed, lips parting hearing him say those words. Turning? Turning into what?

“What do you mean by that…” you questioned. He placed his chalice down, closing his eyes briefly to collect his thoughts before crossing his arms.

“I apologize. I have neglected to inform you about this since I wanted you to get adjusted to your new life here first,” he murmured. You clenched your jaw, trying to read his stoic expression but it was the same as it’s always been. 

“I admit I played a role in why the Judge had chosen you specifically. When you first settled in the village, your scent informed me that you were my mate. My soulmate,” he replied. You couldn’t stop yourself from scoffing in shock. 

“Smell me? Soulmate? What does that even mean, Neuvillette?! I thought vampires only were interested in other vampires and humans were seen as food. That’s why there’s a war in the rest of Europe after all,” you shouted. He did not flinch at your raising pitch in tone. He gave a small humorless laugh at your words.

“That’s not exactly true. A curse befalls vampires and those with vampiric natures in more than one way than ‘evolving’ from their human characteristics. The same people many see as food can be the only chance to find their mate. Whether unconsciously or not we are always searching, our body craves the touch and affection only our mates can give us, soothing one might say, the soul,” he revealed.

You look down at your plate, half-eaten cake on it before gently pushing it away. There was a pause where no one said anything, but you were sure he could hear your heartbeat thumping rapidly in your chest.

“...Are you scared? Do you need some time to process this? We can save the rest of this conversation later,” Neuvillette discussed. You swallowed, trying to ease the dryness that caught your throat suddenly but refused to look him in his eyes for now.

“H-How would this process work exactly? I’m guessing vampires and mortal humans don't mix well,” you muttered. Neuvillette sighed, grunting in agreement.

“Well. There’s a ritual in a sense to create a bond between each party’s body and soul. The ritual entails copulation and when my fangs pierce your skin in the process. It will signal to both your body and soul that your bond with me has been found and eventually your physiology will adjust into something more like me.”

“...Something that of a vampire,” you whispered, looking up at him. He silently nodded as silence befell the two of you for now. Neuvillette let out a heavy sigh, but the corners of his lips curved into a small smile to try to ease the pain you were faced with.

“I recognize this is a lot for any human to face, so please take as much time as you need. There is no rush, so process however long it will take,” he said, rising from his seat and leaving you alone with the crackling fire in the dining room. 

It had been a year since that night he revealed himself as your soulmate. A year to finally process and accept your fate. You chuckled to yourself finally seeing the sun’s light completely disappear and the moon rising brightly in the sky.

Tonight you would mourn your mortality.

A knock at the door snapped you out of your thoughts and memories before you called out they could enter. Neuvillette walked in, wearing his own nightgown falling to his ankle, body completely covered in the white chiffon fabric. He stood by the door still, letting you have your space that was resting on the bed.

“Are you sure you are ready? We can wait later to do this. I can wait,” Neuvillette murmured. You flashed a shaky smile before sighing.

“Yes. I am Neuvillette. I promise,” you replied. Neuvillette walked over until he was in front of you, long fingers clasping gently as your chin before lifting it up. Your lips parted in shock gazing into his eyes that softened.

“I’m going to ask one more time, are you sure you’re ready,” he asked, voice low and husky. Your body trembled at the tone of his voice before you slowly nodded your head—you could hear your eardrums echoing out the beat of your quickening heart. 

You slowly lifted your nightgown off and the fabric pools on the floor, leaving you bare and vulnerable to his gaze and touch. He followed, letting his nightgown fall onto the floor. His body was more muscular than you thought based on the attire you usually saw him adorning in the halls. You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks.

Neuvillette softly smiles leaning in to press his lips against your own. He soon is on top of you, the bed creaked as the weight of two bodies pressed against it. His lips were soft, easily molding on your own while ever so often a sharp pain would poke at your bottom lip. 

“If I’m being honest, I never thought I would experience this. You don’t know how long I waited for this...how I longed for you,” he whispered, as his lips eventually left your own, settling in the nape of your neck. Your body trembled as Neuvillette let his fangs graze against the sensitive skin while his hand traveled down and squeezed the plush of your thighs. 

He finally finds your cunt, cupping his hand at it as he continues to nipple and his along your neck. He soon applied pressure and your hips instinctively began to grind trying to get a lick of friction to brush against your needy clit. Feeling you grind on his hand made Neuvillette chuckle before he opened his eyes admiring the slick now clinging to his palm.

“So pliable under my touch, I’m glad you're enjoying yourself,” he whispered in your ear, hearing another moan rip from your mouth. He soon shifted his position; his thumb now firmly pressed against the nub of your clit pressing tight circles on it. Your form began to twist and your hips shifted as Neuvillette’s hand followed every movement, not budging his focused ministrations once.

His other thumb brushed against your pebbled nibbles, relishing in the way your body jolted from the various sensations. Your breathing became heavy, feeling your entire body flutter inching closer and closer to your high.

“Neuvillette. Neuvillette…I’m—” you groaned out before suddenly Neuvillette completely stopped. You snapped your eyes open in surprise, looking over at him perplexed as his gaze softened and lips tugged in a smile.

“Why did you stop…?” you whispered, puzzled by his actions. Neuvillette leaned in to kiss your forehead while cleaning the slick clinging to his fingers on his thighs as it smeared.

“I needed to make sure you were prepared for me. The ritual unfortunately cannot work if you lose yourself to my fingers, mon cœur. Unless you preferred to wait as I asked earlier,” Neuvillette hummed. You bite your lip, in embarrassment as Neuvillette grasped his cock.

It’s thick, and long and the only vein you could see ran along the base of it. His cock curled up and twitched every few seconds, eager for attention. He let out a grunt, pumping his cock a few times as his tip—flushed pale pink—budded with precum. He rested his length against your slit, letting it slide up and down and gathering the arousal drooling out of your cunt. He let his tip tap against your stimulated clit causing you to shiver before he nestled it against your entrance once more.

As he pushed the tip inside of you, he leaned down, capturing your lips once more before sinking his cock further inside of you. Your nails harpoon against his broad back and you widen your legs wider trying to adjust to his length. Your walls burned at the stretch, trying your best not to tense up as he descended further inside of you.

Finally bottoming out, he slowly slid out before plunging in once more, thrusting with meticulous but strong strokes. Your body moved to his pace, bed beginning to moan and creak while hitting against the wall. 

He grunted louder in the kiss, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to contain himself. He leaned up as you tried catching your breath, stammering his name as his breathing became heavier while his thrusts became faster.

Neuvillette parted his mouth to let his fangs elongate before they buried themselves in the nape of your neck. You yelped, sucking a sharp breath in as the pain of his bite throbbed and shot throughout your entire body. You could hear him gulp and moan, sucking the river of blood pouring down at the wound while he continued to rut inside of you.

“Neuvillette…” you whispered out. It was strange. The pain had somehow subsided and your body felt much lighter and aware of his touch and thrusts, trembling in newly found sensitivity and pleasure. It was as if the bite was an aphrodisiac.

Were all bites like this or was it because he claimed to be your soulmate?

He lifted his head, lower face bloodied from the meal he was indulging in—your humanity. His tongue seemed longer, letting it rest against the wound before taking a long stride up to lap up the rest of the blood dripping from the punctures.

Your walls fluttered down on his cock as your writhed, Neuvillette continued to buck—desperate to sink even further inside of you. He sucked a breath in, struggling to keep up with his pace as your walls continued to cave and clamp down.

Neuvillette's hands find themselves beneath you, squeezing the globes of your ass before lifting your bottom half in an attempt to plunge deeper inside of you. His eyes narrowed watching his cock stretch and disappear in your cunt.

“That’s it…you're almost there. Let me see you come undone. Let’s begin our lives together for eternity in the darkness…” Neuvillette muttered, clenching his jaw tight. You squirmed, tears pricking your eyes as you finally reached your high—body shivering and back arching while calling out his name repeatedly. Your walls quivering from your climax were enough for Neuvillette to follow.

He snapped his eyes shut, hips flattering letting ropes of his thick cum shoot inside of it. He slowly thrust, pushing it deeper, trying to nurse his body down from his high. A trial of his essence managed to leak out, and travel to your inner thighs despite his cock still plugged inside of you.

“Just one more step…please bear with me and stay away,” Neuvillette whispered, placing your hips down on the bed once more. His nails, sharper than before, quickly shut themselves on his wrist—his blood dripping down his forearm. Your eyes and body felt so heavy, your body feeling like your heart was slowing down before you noticed him hovering his injured wrist above your mouth.

Droplets of blood trickled down your chest and chin before finally landing in your open mouth.

As you swallowed, your eyes widened feeling an unknown rush flowing throughout your body replenishing your once tired body so suddenly.

“It…it doesn’t taste like iron, but as if your blood is the purest spring water…”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette smut #neuvillette imagines #neuvillette scenarios #kinktober 2023

[back2bluesidex]

Girl Crush - MYG

Part of my Milestone Drabble Request Game. Find the request here.

Read the follow-up drabble, Afterglow.

Pairing: Husband!Yoongi X Wife!Reader

Theme: Angst, Unrequited love au, arrange marriage au

Wordcount: 1.5k+

Summary: It was and is Min Yoongi, who you fell in love with over the course of charity galas, executive meetings, quarterly gatherings, parties and so on. And he never once looked in your direction. But then again, there are very few people Yoongi really looked at.

Based on Girl Crush by Harry Styles (Cover).

Warnings: unhappy marriage, unrequited love, yoongi loves someone else. this is very painful.

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: I had this idea sitting on my head for a long time now. Thanks to @jimintaemin for requesting this and giving me a chance of writing this. This is very angsty just as you wanted. Hope you like this. Hit me back with your feedback!:)

“I've got a girl crush… Hate to admit it but I’ve got a heart rush… It ain’t slowin' down”

“I assume you already know that this is a marriage of convenience, a negotiation between two companies. And I hope you will not expect anything from me. As long as it’s about responsibilities, I am okay with those. But don’t expect anything more.” Min Yoongi had said, cold and stoic, as if not conversing but stating some flat facts related to stock prices. 

He was not wrong. Whatever he had said are indeed facts and there was nothing you didn’t already know.

So you stood there, standing as still as a porcelain doll, ready to fall and break at any given moment. 

“And just so you know… I have someone.” he finished, diverting his eyes from you even though he never really looked at you properly. 

Although you were glad that he didn’t. You were more than happy that he didn’t witness tears rolling down your face, gathering below your chin and dropping down at the immaculate fabric of your wedding gown. 

Do tears leave stains? You hoped that was not the case. 

It’s not that you pictured a fairytale married life for you. You know arranged marriages come with more cons than pros. You knew you would have to pay the price.. but at the same time you had no choice. You were even more reluctant to do anything because it was him. 

It was and is Min Yoongi, who you fell in love with over the course of charity galas, executive meetings, quarterly gatherings, parties and so on. And he never once looked in your direction. But then again, there are very few people Yoongi really looked at. 

It was foolish for you to expect a man of his stature would not have someone to love, to be loved by. And it was even more foolish for you to think, you can be his wife, a real one.. and lead a life with him. 

However, now you know it’s impossible. And the realization made you feel helpless, caged and broken. 

“I won’t expect anything, I promise, but in return… Can we at least be friends? It will make things easy for both of us.” you’d uttered upon managing your voice and emotions. 

Only then he looked at you, like really looking at you with a small smile playing on his lips, he’d said “sure.”  

That was the moment you realized you had a girl crush. And it was the woman who managed to make Yoongi, your husband, fall in love. 

“I got it real bad.. Want everything she has That smile and that midnight laugh.. She's giving you now.” 

You thought, you would be angry. You thought every possible darkness would cover your senses, when you’d meet her for the first time. 

But wrong… you were. 

You had so many prejudices about this woman and you hated her with every drop of blood your body owns but all of it evaporated in thin air when she smiled at you standing right at your and yoongi’s door. 

She is beautiful, she is kind, she is loveable… and maybe everything else you can’t ever be. 

“Thank you so much, Y/N. I never thought I was going to see Yoongi ever again.” she’d murmured as she stood close to you in the kitchen, preparing dinner for you three. 

You had stared into her eyes then.. Trying to find mockery and a hint of brazen victory telling you, “you’re only his paper wife. I own his heart.” 

But again.. Again you were disappointed. 

In her eyes, there was no mockery, no pretense, no dishonesty.. Rather only understanding and kindness. Only then you understood why Yoongi loves her so much. 

Why will it never be you and always be her.  

That night as you stood at the balcony, enjoying the stinging sensation cold wind brought to you, you heard them laughing.

It was the first time you heard Min Yoongi laughing. Even though faint and muffled, you could still sense his happiness through the sound. 

Min Yoongi was finally happy... for the first time since the wedding ceremony... and you were not the reason. 

All of a sudden, you were jealous again, even though you were not sure if you had the right or not. 

“I want to taste her lips… Yeah, 'cause they taste like you I want to drown myself… In a bottle of her perfume”

You didn’t know what you were thinking when you invited her to your and Yoongi’s honeymoon. 

Both of your and his parents have been pestering you to set out for the trip. You have been using excessive workload as the excuse and you assumed Yoongi to do the same.

But a week ago, everything went south when Yoongi had a fight with his father. As a result, flights were booked, accommodations were chosen and you two were notified only two days prior. 

That night, Yoongi didn’t come back home. And when he did, he didn’t speak a single word to you. 

The visible frown on his forehead and the cold aura that oozed from him, made you want to make him smile, made you invite his lover to the trip secretly.  

She was already there when you two reached and you will never forget Yoongi’s reaction when he realized what was happening. 

The grumpy cold Yoongi broke into gummy smiles and giggles as soon as he saw her. They kissed right in front of your eyes and you silently cried. 

Oh how you wish, you could taste him too. How you wish, he would hold you like that, caress you like that. 

How you wish… he would love you like that. 

“I want her long blond hair… I want her magic touch Yeah, 'cause maybe then… You'd want me just as much”

 “Babe, could you please turn your head a little? Yes.. yes just like that.” 

You watched the man as he clicked photos after photos of the woman he loves, seemingly trying to document her beauty for a long long time.  

You watched her as her long blond hair flowed like a waterfall down her shoulder, wind ruffling it gently making her look even more beautiful. 

“Let’s take a selfie, will you?” she shouted at him and he chuckled. 

He buried his head in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, he said, “you smell so nice.”

You wondered, what she smelled like, what perfume did she use to make Yoongi look this satisfied. You even considered asking her, purchasing a bottle and drowning yourself in one of those if that means Yoongi would love to smell you too, he would curl himself around you late at night. If that means Yoongi would want you, just as much. 

“I don't get no sleep… I don't get no peace Thinking about her.. Under your bed sheets”

“Where are you going?” confusion dripped through Yoongi’s voice. You stopped at your tracks and turned to face him. 

“I will sleep in the other room. You two should have your space. I will send her in as soon as I am there.” you smiled at him, even though your heart bleed invisibly inside your chest at the thought of how they would spend the night together. 

“No, Y/N. We will adjust. You sleep here in the suite.” Yoongi commented, as firm as a verdict, as he stepped towards where you stood. 

“But Yoongi, I am alone, what would I do with all this space?” you sighed. You definitely didn’t want to be left alone at the honeymoon suite, decorated for the newlyweds. You hate it. Totally loathe the decorations. Those giant red hearts had been mocking you since the moment you stepped there. You might tear those to pieces if you were left there alone, raising endless questions regarding such an act. 

“You have done enough. You have done much more than you needed to and I feel like I’m taking advantage of your kindness. So, please… stay here. Enjoy the stay. We will manage.” giving you one of his tight lipped smiles, Yoongi slipped out of the room to spend the night with his lover. 

That night when you slid inside the covers, which smelled awfully like him because he took a nap earlier in the evening, you started breaking down. 

Your hopes, your dreams, and your heart all started crumbling right before your eyes. You held the duvet tightly around yourself and pretended it was yoongi wrapped around you, it was Yoongi, whispering sweet things in your ear, it was Yoongi, telling you that he loved you. 

Somewhere you knew, Yoongi is actually doing all these things in real-time but.. Not to you.. Not for you. 

You closed your eyes, tears streamed down your cheeks and wetted the pillow. You imagined your life as her… as your girl crush… as the woman your husband, Min Yoongi, loves. 

“I've got a girl crush… Hate to admit it but I’ve got a heart rush… It ain’t slowin' down”

#bts angst #yoongi angst #suga angst #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #bts x you #suga fanfic #bts arranged marriage au #bts drabble #bts #bts suga #nika's milestone drabble game

[inkdrinkerworld]

omgomgomg can i request sunshine!reader x grumpy!remus. 💗

it was common knowledge that remus wore shades of green, brown and white and black.

he wore yellow on rare occasions and they were muted tones, and that’s why you had to get him this specific thing.

you’d been shopping for a new pair of boots for yourself when you saw the pyjama set and had to pick it up for him.

even if he wouldn’t wear it, it would be enough just to make him smile when you explain.

you got yourself a pair as well, and made your way home overly excited to show remus his gift.

“rem, i’m back and i got you something!” remus knows there’s trouble with how excited you sound.

“something illegal?” he asks as you meet him on the sofa. he’s reading a well worn copy of pride and prejudice with his ankles crossed along the length of the sofa; but pats his lap for you.

“no! but maybe next time.”

you thrust the bag towards him and his lips quirk up just so.

you’re practically shaking with excitement and when remus’ hands touch the linen you almost burst in impatience.

still, you temper your own emotions and watch as remus pulls out the bright red pyjamas covered in white hearts.

“these are for me?” he asks, his book closed as he unfolds the set.

“mhm! i got a set for me in pink, though we can swap if you want.”

remus can’t believe you thought of him when you saw this, he also can’t believe that you got him a pair.

though, at this stage he should because you’re you and you’ve often told him that you see him everywhere just in glance.

“do you hate it? because i really just got it to see if you’d hate it and never wear it at all.” you admit almost shyly and remus let’s a full smile break out on his lips.

“i don’t hate it,” he kisses your nose. “thank you for thinking of me.”

you didn’t expect remus to wear it the next night after you washed both pairs and grin so wide remus suspects you’re the sun.

#remuslupin #remus lupin #remus lupin x black!reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fanfiction

[silassinclair]

Hi!

Can I request Maddox with a darling who lives to read, maybe he catches her reading some old romance books in an abandoned house they shack up in or something like that

Btw I live your writing ♥️

As someone who loves to read I am obligated to write for this req 😤🫡 Thanks for the request tho!! Hope you like it :-)

Yandere Wild West Outlaw x Bookworm Reader

CW// Maddox is annoying, Reader being a little perv Masterlist Here!!

The new house Maddox found was lovely. It had decently okay furniture and a vast collection of old books on the shelf. It's small with only two bedrooms and one bathroom but it was charming. But what caught your interest was the big oak wood bookshelf. You couldn't even remember the last time you picked up a book. Being on the run with Maddox made time fly.

"Who would leave all these books behind? They're all in great condition." You mutter to yourself as you take a blue and purple book with gold trim off the shelf. Tracing your fingers down the spine of the hardcover novel you appreciate the craftsmanship. It was clearly expensive, something you could no longer afford. Your Dad bought you many books like these but now you were pretty much broke. You only had Maddox to rely on now.

Speaking of Maddox you had no clue where he was. Which you didn't really care, he always disturbed your peace. Cracking open the book you sit down on the loveseat and start reading. It was a romance book about a huntsman who fell in love with a duchess. The story was beautiful as it was exhilarating.

"Oh wow, you into that kinda stuff?"

You snap the book shut instantly, a mini cloud of dust poofs from the pages. Maddox chuckles huskily behind you, leaning down and resting his chin on the back of the loveseat.

"Oh don't be embarrassed princess, it was getting to the good part. What did it say again? Oh! Ahem-"

Maddox coughs into his hand and smirks. Deepening his voice he quotes the passage in a deep, British-like accent,

"He caresses the duchess' milky thighs, her womb felt of silk wrapped around his ma-"

"OH HUSH!" You whip around and smack the outlaw's head, his hat nearly flying off. But he only laughs at your flustered state.

"You're filthy." You groan and put the book back on the shelf where it was. But Maddox follows behind you and takes the book into his own hands and opens it up. Skimming through the pages he smirks.

"I'm filthy? Sweetheart you're the one readin' this junk." Maddox shuts the book and puts it back. Putting his hand up on the shelf he leans against it while looking down at your shorter self.

"Well it is a romance book." Rolling your eyes you choose a different book. This time you pick a title you're familiar with, Pride and Prejudice.

"Now leave me alone you brute. I'd like to relax for once." With that you walk away and go outside. Finding a nice tree you sit beneath it and read the book. Reading reminded you of home, the home that was ripped from you. In a way it was escapism which is unhealthy but a girl can dream right?

Hours pass and the sun begins to set, casting an orange glow across the cloudy sky. The words on the page become harder to read as the sun sinks lower and the moon rises. You didn't want it to end. You know you could read inside but that damn outlaw was inside. You just wanted to stay out here forever with the natural ambience of wind and birds.

Footsteps approach you and you already know who it is. Looking up you see him. Black denim jeans, a burgundy vest, twin revolvers around his waist, and a dark brown cowboy hat on his head. And of course that bandana covering the bottom half of his face. Anytime you asked him about his face he got ticked off so you avoided the subject. But you couldn't help but be curious.

"You're starin' sweetheart." His husky voice breaks the silence. There’s a hint of a Spanish accent mixed in with his Southern drawl. You can't help but think about what it would be like if you and him met under different circumstances. Would he save you from bandits? Offer to buy you a drink at the saloon?

Would you two have a storybook romance just like in the books you adore?

"Hey."

He's right in front of you now, crouched to your height. His gloved hand pets your hair and you're frozen. He has you in a trance that you make no effort to free yourself from. His dark amber eyes are crinkled in slight concern over your unusual silence.

"What..?" You say softly.

"It's gettin' dark. Unless you wanna be dinner for the coyotes then I suggest comin' back in. I'll cook up some beans so hurry your little bum up."

Well there goes the moment. You groan and get up off the grass, your back cracking as you stretch. Your eyes watch as Maddox walks back into the house. His hips sway as he walks, you never really payed attention to that before. His ass looks pretty round in those pants to-

"Ugh, what is wrong with me.." Groaning, you follow after him.

#yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #obsession #maddox graves #yandere cowboy #cowboy #western

[thesherrinfordfacility]

it goes something like this: this is a demon that isn't a very good demon and has survived this far by not allowing anyone to see other than himself that he's not a very good demon. after all, he's been in this position before, hasn't he? he's shown Someone who he truly is, what is in his mind and heart so to speak, and was ruined because of it. but he still can't shake off the feeling of doing the right thing, regardless of whether it goes against heaven or hell.

and then appears this angel that has already told him on that wall that it would be awful if he, the angel, were to do the wrong thing and he, the demon, to do the right thing. it's meant to be the other way around, simply by the will of someone they haven't heard a voice from in centuries, millennia, let alone be able to even understand. this angel who the demon knows is going to be set on doing the divine thing, wrong thing, so he can't trust him to know that he's doing the right thing. he has to keep his cover, make this angel fear him, so he doesn't get close enough to see beyond the facade. because to thwart him as a demon is the good thing, but he can't trust the angel to see that he's doing the right thing.

but this angel accosts him, tells him that he doesn't think this is right, that it can't be what god intended; well, close, but no cigar. the angel beseeches to the demon to do the right thing this time, that the goats were one thing, but please, please, don't harm the children. and it's a close call, but how could he trust this angel? trust the angel to have some sliver of faith in him? trust him to re-examine his prejudice and see him as more than a demon, and all its preconceptions? but the angel does work it out, does see, and it perhaps births the hope that this angel won't stop him from doing the right thing.

it goes something like this: this angel is now a smug but tentative temporary ally. he's seen through him, and he hasn't been thwarted yet, so maybe he has the room to continue with his plan, his agenda, to do the right thing. but he doesn't have the full measure of this angel yet; how mercurial is he? will he change his mind? he seemed hesitant at the flood, but he doesn't get consulted on policy decisions; will actually saving the children be a step too far for the angel? will the angel baulk, and run back to the comfort of just following orders?

he sets the house on fire, and the angel initially doesn't seem to realise that it's a mirage, a magic trick. the demon's just setting the stage. the angel is shocked, momentarily panicking that his faith in this demon was misplaced. but the angel doesn't understand that it's a test, that the demon is scrutinising where his allegiance lies, that he won't thwart this trick, believing it a genuine attempt to harm the children. he offers deniable plausibility; offers the version that he is naturally a bad person because he's a demon - but fear me, stay away, you can't beat me; if you have changed your mind, don't try to stop me because i won't let you win.

but the angel shows again where his moral compass lies, and resolves that he does know this demon, and knows that he won't do what he's threatening to do. that he will do the right thing, and push him to follow it through. so he picks up the gauntlet. he knows that the demon lied before, and he would stake his faith on the fact that he's lying now. that he's not reneging on the true him that was revealed to the angel, that that was the important bit that wasn't a lie.

it goes something like this: now it's the angel's turn. this demon, this good person who does the right thing, is staring him down. setting up the challenge, and silently pleading that he does the right thing too. but the demon knows the stakes are higher for this angel; the demon operates alone, has had the freedom to somewhat pave his own way, and do whatever he wants, and only truly cares about answering to himself. this angel is literally surrounded, backed into the corner. the demon wants to know what he'll choose; will he choose the good thing - telling the truth, and bring down the fledgling trust they've just set up between them? or will he choose the right thing - to lie and ensure that this family, that has done nothing to warrant any of these horrors, can continue to exist in peace?

not only does the angel lie, but he stakes it on everything that he is. he stakes it on being an angel. a direct wager that if the other angels see through the lie, that is the price the angel will need to pay. the demon is suitably impressed, he applauds the performance and the sacrifice, and possibly even feels some degree of sympathy. because whilst this demon's existence isn't easy, he doesn't have much else to lose. he's already lost it, and still feeling the waves crashing on the shore, but it doesn't knock anything down. for this angel, this is everything he embodies and believes himself to be. he still has everything to lose. the demon has been there before, facing the risk of, and survived, losing that, and knows that conflict and pain. but is the price worth it? is it worth doing the right thing?

it goes something like this: the demon goes to the angel. they're not friends, not even really allies, but they've shared the same experience. the demon is surprised that the angel thought he'd fall, but he understands that fear. he recognises and respects that vulnerability, to show the shards of yourself to someone else knowing that they could either help to put them back together, or further trample them into dust. so he comforts the angel with not an assurance that they are still good, because that would be a lie. instead he offers the truth - that he did the right thing, and whilst its a lonely and thankless path to walk, a dangerous moral ground to tread, he won't be alone in walking it.

he lets the angel in on a little secret: that he too is vulnerable. that he is lonely. he has a weakness that at any given moment this angel could exploit if he were so minded. that this angel could experience is a one-off, and he could revert to seeing the demon as someone incapable of doing the right thing by nature of what he is. but he trusts that he won't. the demon recognises and acknowledges what the angel risked for a greater purpose, for helping him achieve that purpose, and for seeing who this demon actually is. he is showing the angel behind the curtain screen, the murky and unknowable that lies ahead when stepping out of the light. showing that they can be, and are, more than the labels they are assigned, and that doing the right thing is the only thing that truly matters.

it goes something like this: the demon trusts the angel enough to admit, unequivocally, out loud, that he lied.

#good omens #good omens meta #this one ran away from me and got a bit poetic please excuse me #you find rhi on this lazy sunday in a fanciful mood #flashback meta #crowley meta #aziraphale meta #s2 meta

[blue--ingenue]

soft!sebastian headcannons - Christmas edition

Author's Note: happy holidays to all who celebrate! i've been making decorations and gathering gifts for my friends, and these thoughts have been floating around and demanding that i write them down :)

when he was little his parents told him that Santa Claus put coal into the stockings of naughty children. a few days before Christmas he and Anne were playing gobstones when she beat him in record time, and he swears she cheated. his twin denied this, of course, but he decided to take justice into this own hands. after everyone had gone to bed, little Seb had toddled downstairs to the fireplace. his magic was beginning to come in spurts; there wasn’t enough of it to channel through a wand, but his power sensed what he was trying to do and obliged. he watched as a still-smoldering chunk of coal floated over to Anne’s stocking, plopped inside, and promptly set it ablaze. nobody was harmed in the incident, but his parents later dedicated hours charming every inch of the house to be fireproof

once, before he began officially courting you, he felt incredibly jealous on Christmas eve. the annual Slytherin holiday party had been raging for hours, and would continue for many more. you, Ominis, and Sebastian had settled onto a plush carpet before the fireplace with three mugs of eggnog spiked with cheap firewhiskey. Ominis drained half his mug in one go, and emerged with a sizeable foam mustache. he was either too drunk to notice, or didn’t care, but either way Sebastian teased him for it. his laughter quickly died off as you gently wiped the foam from his top lip and licked it from your finger. Ominis had the sense to blush profusely, but Sebastian had seethed

by the next Christmas you are several months along into your courtship. he works nightly shifts for Sirona for weeks to save up for your gift. it’s a beautiful locket made of goblin metal (he commissioned it from a goblin artisan Sirona had told him about. after fifth-year he felt ashamed of his prejudices against goblins and has been trying to better himself). he’s pasted a picture of himself inside, and the exterior has an intricate carving of the Sallow family crest

he is absolutely the type of guy to kiss you under every mistletoe within a five-foot radius. if there are none in sight, he’ll simply conjure some on the spot

he never wears a hat when it’s snowing. despite the fact that the Scottish winters are brutal and he runs the risk of catching a cold, he refuses. Ominis scolds him every time, but he thinks it’s worth it when you take the time to brush the snowflakes from his curls on your walks to Hogsmeade

he has a love-hate relationship with baking gingerbread cookies. the whole process feels too much like being in potions. his patience isn’t long enough for all the measuring, mixing, and waiting for the biscuits to bake. he’d much rather pilfer treats from the kitchens, but when he sees how excited you are he makes it his mission to like the infernal process. you’ve conjured a lovely little kitchen in the room of requirement, and he’s all too happy to enchant the piano in the corner to play Christmas melodies

he absolutely makes a mess and then chases you around the table with flour-covered hands

his favorite part is cutting the dough into shapes. your cookies are impeccable, an army of gingerbread mooncalves, snowmen, and nifflers waiting to be slid into the oven. he tries to shape his into hearts. they look alright at first, but after baking they’ve melded into a series of blobs. he’s about to tell you to throw them out when you delightedly exclaim that they look just like the little puffskeins you’ve been caring for. he calls the night a success and you fall asleep together in front of the fireplace with a now-empty cookie plate beside you

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Taglist:@mlktea13, @mrsbrookesallow, @ithinkweallsing, @snickette, @crispywiz

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #fluff

[yourmomxx]

Sweet Child O’ Mine

father of mine masterlist

summary: It’s time for Dean to face what he has been so afraid of the entire time. Meanwhile, the monster that has already taken one young man’s life, is on its way to claim the next one

warnings: canon violence, child abandonment, swear words, angst, daddy issues, character death, throwing up, this is written like an episode of Supernatural

word count: 11,2k (whoops)

disclaimer: What I know about Group Homes is what I know from my country (and Google), so I apologize if I made any mistakes

pt1 pt2 pt3

@psycho-magnotheric-slime

Now

The cafeteria was loud. The mixed noise of talking children and clattering dishes and cutlery filled the air, creating a yet bearable loudness.

You were sat at one of the light blue tables, across from you your best friends Cassandra Claire and Finnegan Beckett.

Cass and Finn.

She was lowly cursing at the paper straw in her apple juice box and a few strands of her black bangs slipped into her view. The wolf cut, which had been so present a few months ago, was now already grown out and even the shortest strands of Cass’s hair were reaching her shoulders.

Finn seemed caught up in his own world as he carefully laid out little figures and symbols with his french fries. He still had a few, slightly red acne spots lingering on his skin, amongst freckles covering his nose and cheeks. His hair was flaming red, just as Roy’s had been, but other than him Finn usually hid the tousled locks under a cap.

Roy. The news of his death had hit the three of you hard. You had been a friendgroup of four, Roy and Finn, and Cass and you.

Almost a week ago you had been eating lunch at this exact table, the seat to your right had been taken, laughing about terrible jokes, bickering, and not even considering it all to end as soon as it did.

And especially how it did.

Roy’s body was still lying at the morgue. The authorities had kept it there for ‘further investigation purposes’ as they had said, so no funeral had been possible yet.

Of course, the adults had introduced all of you to helping hotlines and offered their own support in case anyone wanted to talk about their feelings and their grief in the safeness of a closed room.

Not that one of you took that into consideration.

The only way you three were coping with the whole situation was through joking around and pretending none of it ever happened. Which was fine.

You and Cass had sometimes talked in the darkness of your rooms, careful and short conversations while sleeping over because neither of you wanted to spend the night alone.

But other than that? Zero. And it was alright that way. The right moment would come.

Maybe.

“Aha!” Cass suddenly yelled out triumphantly, and startled Finn out of admiring his artwork.

You looked up at her from half-heartedly poking around in your own food, as she proudly held up the apple juice that was now pierced with what looked like the abused version of a thin straw.

You gave a small clap. “Bravo” and she grinned at you before turning to Finn.

Well done, Cassie,” he sarcastically said. “You won the hard fight against the opening of a box of apple juice.”

Cass pouted and took a sip. “You don’t appreciate my victories enough, Finn. And don't call me that. Cassie.” She dramatically shuddered at the nickname.

“I’m mentally unstable, not five.”

Finn examined her perfectly done eyeliner and makeup with skeptically raised eyebrows. “You don’t look mentally unstable to me,” he remarked.

Cass gasped. “Excuse me? Prejudices??” She exclaimed.

“You see that?” She asked, frantically pointing at her face. “See how perfect my makeup is today? That's not a good thing, dumbass! Perfect makeup means that I am absolutely mentally fucked!”

You nodded supportively, and Finn just raised his eyebrows, before he dedicated his attention back to poking around in his food.

“Don't you think that's kind of ironic?” He pointed out, and Cass simply ignored him, except for the tiny eye roll she gave.

“Guys, I need your help deciding what color I'm going to dye my hair next,” she changed the topic instead and desperately ran her hands through her hair.

Finn’s head whipped around, back to his friend. “You're honestly thinking about dying your hair right now?” He asked incredulously.

She groaned and threw him a look.

“No, Finnegan, I am not actively thinking about dying my hair, but I sense a mental breakdown coming and if I'm going to absolutely lose my shit and take it out on my hair, I want the result to look good. Otherwise, we are met with that weird yellow-green-combination again.” Cass let her body shudder dramatically.

“I liked the yellow-green-combination,” you interjected.

Cass reached over the table to lay her hand above yours and looked up at you with sweet eyes. “Thanks, hun.”

“I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it,” mumbled Finn, his mouth stuffed full of fries. “Just leave them black.”

“I don’t think you quite understood how a mental breakdown works, man,” you said.

Finn shrugged and dipped a frie into his ketchup. “Whatever.”

You looked at Cass. “I’ll go shopping with you soon and then we will choose a color together,” you promised.

“Thanks,” she said and eyed Finn, “at least someone who cares if I ruin my good looks or not.”

But Finn didn’t hear her, or maybe he just ignored what she was saying. Because he changed the topic.

“Did the FBI agents get a hold of you guys yet?” He suddenly asked.

Your eyebrows shot up in confusion. “The what?”

“The FBI agents,” Finn repeated.

“Why, thank you, I got that part, but what is the FBI doing here?”

Cass just shrugged her shoulders. “Apparently they are here investigating Roy's murder.”

“What, they think someone murdered him?” You asked in disbelief.

“Well, he will not have crushed his ribs all on his own now, will he?” Finn drew a heart shape with the remaining ketchup on the plate.

“It's better than the state police,” retorted Cass, “who still think that it was some kind of ... animal attack.”

You snorted. “Yeah, right, because a bear sneaking into a castle, pushing down on someone's chest and then just leaving seems so plausible.”

Your friends raised their eyebrows in agreement.

“What did they ask you guys?” You closed your waterbottle and absentmindedly started cleaning up your plate.

Cass shrugged and leaned back in her chair with crossed arms. “Not much, the usual, I guess,” she answered, “Wanted me to tell them some things about Roy, his behavior lately, who would have wanted to hurt him…” She trailed off.

“Same here. Routine stuff,” Finn said. Then he leaned a bit closer and lowered his voice.

“To be honest, I don't really care why they're here, they are both incredibly handsome.”

“Finn!” You and Cassandra exclaimed at the same time.

“What?!” The boy widened his arms in defense. “Let me enjoy the one good thing that came from Roy's death.”

Cass shoved him in response. “God, you are a manwhore!” She grumbled.

Finn rubbed his arm with an offended pout on his lips and you giggled. “Geez, we must seem so fucked up, our best friend got murdered and here we are, joking about his death.” You shook your head lightly.

“It's what he would have wanted.” Cass scooted a bit closer on her seat and took both yours and Finn’s hand in acted solemnity.

“If I die,” she vowed, “you are now officially allowed to joke about my death as much as you want. On any occasion.”

“Sick!” You called out and Cass smirked.

“Can we please get back to the part where she said if?” Finn pointed out.

Cass rolled her eyes and pulled back.

“I'm a witch, after all,” she reminded him with a threatening silken voice that had a tone of mockery. “And one day, I will figure out the secret of necromancy, just you wait.”

Finn scoffed and grinned. “Right, you with your crystals, and your smokey sticks and your herbs and tarot cards.”

He wiggled his fingers in front of her face. “That's some real serious stuff you got there, Cass.”

She pushed him away. “Yeah, keep making fun of it. We'll see who has the last laugh when I turn immortal and outlive all of you idiots.”

Finn shook his head. He looked at you and pointed his forefinger to his temple, moving it in circles to indicate what he held of her words.

You shook your head grinning, and Cass, who noticed the interaction, promptly took Finn’s sugar-glazed donut and dumped it in his untouched mayonnaise.

"Ew! Jesus, Cass, you are disgusting!" Finn yelled as he stared at the disaster.

She just shrugged and was quick to eat her own food before he would get any ideas.

For a while, it was quiet. You continued cleaning and sorting your lunch plate, while Cass ate and Finn and her did not speak a word to each other.

It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though, just a break from conversation.

Eventually, Cass was the one to break it.

“So, uhm, did you guys, like - I mean, have you been thinking about Roy, too? Or, like, dreaming or something?” With every word her voice got more quiet until it was only a low mumble, drifting apart in the busy noise around.

But still everything she said managed to pierce through the air and directly into your heart.

“Why would you bring that up?” Finn asked through gritted teeth, he almost sounded mad.

Cass avoided eye contact with both of you and pressed the palms of her hands against her forehead, as if to stop it from giving her incredible pain.

“I’ve been having those horrible nightmares, since it happened,” she sighed in despair.

“It’s the same thing over and over again. I see something going into his room, but when I try to open the door, it’s locked. And I hit it, and I scream, but there’s just no sound coming out of my mouth. And when the door finally opens, there he is, lying on the bed, just-”

A heavy clatter interrupted her monologue and made you flinch. Finn had thrown his fork onto his dinner plate.

“Didn’t ask about fucking details, Cassandra,” he hissed lowly, stood up and walked away with his tray in hand.

Cass looked after him as he left and put her head in her hands with a groan.

“I didn’t mean to upset him,” she mumbled into the fabric of her sleeve.

“I know,” you said. She raised her head. You gave her a sympathetic smile.

“D’you think he hates me now?”

You shook your head no. “He’s just grieving. We all are. He will get himself together again, promise.”

For a second, her lips quirked up in a small smile.

“Come on,” you said then and swung your leg over the bench, standing up. “We’ve been sitting here for far too long anyways.”

You took your tray and Cass was quick to follow you and put the dirty dishes away.

“I didn’t have any, by the way.” Confused, she looked at you.

“Nightmares,” you added.

Cass nodded. “Yeah, didn’t think so.” She shrugged. “Guess I’ll deal with this the same way I deal with everything: completely and utterly alone.”

You jokingly shoved her at her theatrics, and she grinned. “Shut up. I’ll be damned if I let you deal with any of this on your own. Got me?”

She laid a hand upon her heart and the other on your shoulder. “You’re so sweet,” she said. “And I suppose that also includes helping me study for my biology exam which I have definitely already studied for?”

You pulled back and inhaled sharply, pretending to think. “Ah ma’am, I am afraid this feature is not included in your subscription. We apologize for any discomfort this may bring.”

“It brings a great deal of discomfort!” Cass exclaimed while you two walked the hallway to your rooms.

“You can write me an email-complaint,” you joked. “No guarantees though. You’ve had like two weeks to study for that one.”

“I know, I know, but it’s so endlessly boring and complicated!” she cried.

You shrugged. “There’s a reason I didn’t take the AP class.”

“And I will forever envy you for it.”

You stopped when you reached the two doors to your bedrooms that laid right across of each other.

“Then,” you said and bowed lightly, “farewell my friend. May your head not explode while rehearsing for the terribly difficult school subject that is AP biology.”

She flipped you off and disappeared into her room. Laughing to yourself, you opened the door and slipped into your own.

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Central Nebraska 2007

The past few hunting days had been rough. Sam and Dean had driven from one case to the next without a break, been beaten up by an entire pack of werewolves and hunted down a loose chupacabra outside of its usual territory.

Dean was beyond exhausted. His muscles ached, his head was pounding, and the lack of sleep was weighing his limbs down. He was practically dragging himself over the gravel path, before he swung open the door to Harvelle’s Roadhouse.

The air that hit them from inside was stuffy, warm, and smelt like sweat and alcohol. Low but loud enough music fell into an uncoordinated melody with loud chatter and the clinking of glass.

Dean felt like he had never experienced something more beautiful, after the weeks he’s had.

“Deeeeeannnn!”

He heard the excited cry of his name before he saw where it came from. He spotted a bright sundress on a small girl, and out of instinct crouched down as she sped towards him.

With a grunt, Dean picked her up in his arms mid sprint and lifted her up. Behind him, Sam closed the door again as Dean made his way over to the bar with little Y/N on his hip.

“How is my favorite girl today?” He asked her and she grinned at him.

“I’m good! I missed you,” she added.

Dean’s chest clammed with how much he loved her.

“Well, I’m back now, ready to give you allllll my attention. Come on, show me those fangs.” He nodded his head at her chin at his request, and Y/N drew her lips back and bared her teeth to him.

Dean held the hand that wasn’t holding her in front of his eyes and pretended to be blinded. “Wow, those are clean! I can’t even see anything.”

With a giggle, Y/N closed her mouth again and Dean blinked hard a few times.

“I brush them extra hard. Ask Auntie Ellen.”

Dean nodded. “I totally believe you. Every werewolf would be jealous of those teeth. Oh, did I say werewolf? I meant vampire, of course.”

Dean shook his head at himself, and Y/N beamed up at him with the brightest shining eyes he had ever seen.

“Good to see you again, boys,” Ellen greeted them and pulled out two glasses. “The usual?”

Sam and Dean nodded. Ellen started pouring. When Sam took his drink, he pointed somewhere in the back of the bar and said, “I’ll go have a talk with Ash.” Then he was gone.

Dean placed Y/N on one of the bar stools and took his seat next to her.

“Dean, can you play Operation with me?” Y/N asked him, and Dean stilled in his movement to take a sip of his drink. He opened his mouth to answer her, but Ellen was faster.

“Baby, let Dean rest for a bit. I’m sure these past few days haven’t been all sugar and cakes for him. Maybe later, alright?”

Y/N pouted a bit, but then shrugged and shuffled off the barstool. “Okay,” she said, and disappeared between the people, probably to the private rooms.

Dean looked after her and then turned back to Ellen with a thankful look on his face.

“Can’t believe that game is still so popular. I mean, I used to play with that in my childhood,” he said, and took a sip from his drink. The alcohol burned a bit down his throat, but it was exactly what he needed right now. Dean closed his eyes and sighed appreciatively.

“Really glad you’re back,” Ellen then told him honestly, as she opened up a beer for herself and folded her arms on the counter. “She’s been asking me nothing else than ‘When will Dean come back’ for the past few weeks. I can’t hear that sentence anymore.”

Dean chuckled and she took a sip.

“Yeah,” he dragged, and threw a look in the direction that Y/N had disappeared in. Ellen tilted her head and gave him a look he couldn’t quite read.

“You’re really good with her, ya know?” She twirled the bottle loosely on the counter. Dean avoided her inquiring gaze and looked into the liquor in his glass instead. He vaguely saw his reflection in it.

“’ve always been good with kids, I guess.” He shrugged it off.

Ellen hummed. Dean didn’t know what to make of it. He looked up at her again.

“For what it’s worth, she makes it really easy,” he said. Ellen raised her eyebrows. “To lo- to like her, I mean. She’s a great kid. You did good with her.”

Ellen sighed. “Yeah, I like to think I did. Wasn’t always easy.”

Dean nodded. A bit after they had met, Ellen had vaguely told him how she got to Y/N. How someone had just dumped the little girl, barely one year old, on her doorstep. No note, only a name and date of birth, and a blanket in the basket she had been put in.

When he had first heard the story, Dean’s hand had cramped around his beer bottle so hard his knuckles had turned white.

Stories like this about kids always got to him. But about this one? Hell, the lengths he would go to protect that little girl. She had made her way into his heart so easily, no preparation or caution, just boosted right into it with her bright smile and those happy eyes.

And Dean had never spent a day not wanting to know her.

Sometimes, when he thought about it, he thought about how easy it was. To love a kid. She wasn’t even his, but every time he had to say goodbye to her for God knows how long again, his heart broke a little more.

And he thought about how it was that easy, and how yet, somehow his father had not managed it. Had left his children alone, abandoned, in ran down motel rooms, without any contact for days and sometimes weeks. How he had felt absent, even when he was physically present, and how Dean could never do enough to feel enough for him.

It made him ache, but he had promised himself to never make anyone else feel this way. And maybe, just maybe, this little wonder he had come across was supposed to be his salvation.

“Dean, I have to tell you something.”

Somehow, the way Ellen said it, made Dean stiffen. A strange mixture of regret and hurt crossed her exes.

“It’s about your daddy,” she added.

“And about Y/N.”

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Now

If Sam had tried to read the different emotions that were crossing his older brother’s face right now, he would have given up as soon as he had started.

But one thing was certain, they were many, and probably none of them were good.

They stood in front of the wooden door to their last room.

Your room, to be exact.

And they stood there for the second time today, to be exact.

Maria had pointed them the numbers of the bedrooms where Roy Kendall’s friends lived, they had paid each of them a visit and asked them questions about the deceased.

None of those interrogations had proven to be useful to them, though.

Also, funny enough, it turns out that Cassandra Claire and Y/N Winchester’s room happened to lay just across the hallway from each other.

But when Sam offered to move on to her after finishing Cassandra’s questioning, Dean had not-so-smoothly avoided his question and decided he was in desperate need of some lunch.

Which is why, now, they were standing here, staring at the old wooden door with filled stomachs and angel Castiel in tow - who had decided to join them after all.

Said angel now leaned in closer to Sam and not so silently whispered, “Is he- frozen? Shall I wake him?”

Dean snorted and shook his head, as if Castiel’s words had actually woken him up from the sort of trance he had been trapped in.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, still talking into the direction of the - apparently very intimidating – wooden door.

Sam raised his eyebrows, fully aware that his brother couldn’t see him. “Well then,” he said, extending his hand to the door. “Knock.”

Dean threw a murdering look over his shoulder at his little brother and took a deep breath in, shook his shoulders.

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew this had to be difficult for Dean, but he also wanted to get all of this over with. He could think of more fun things than spending his entire day in an orphanage, investigating a murder. Also, his suit was starting to get itchy.

The sound of Dean knocking at the door felt like a salvation. “Agents Shield and Stark and …” He threw Cas a look, “… Miller. We’re here to ask you some questions about the death of Roy Kendall.”

For a second, it was quiet. Then, “It’s open.”

The voice from inside made a chill run down Sam’s spine. He couldn’t imagine what his brother felt. But even if Dean was falling apart inside, he didn’t let his face show any of it.

Dean’s heart twisted with the door handle, as he pushed the door open and entered into the room. After him, Sam and Castiel entered, and Dean closed the door behind them again.

The room wasn’t big, but it had been decorated to be comfortable. In the middle of the wall to their right, a twin-sized bed with unified colors was placed, a small bedside table next to it.

To their left was a tall wardrobe that almost reached the ceiling, and under the window on the wall opposite them stood a nice desk.

And there, shuffling through some papers, stood a young teenage girl, with her back turned to them.

“Sorry about the mess, I-“ Dean’s heart skipped a beat as you turned around.

You hadn’t changed, not a bit, but had grown so much. The roundness in your features, like with all children, had gone away as you grew older. You had changed your hair, and your voice was different, but it was so unmistakably you that Dean needed a second to catch himself.

He feared his feet would buckle under him, as you looked at him with wide open eyes, those eyes that he remembered looked so much like your mother’s.

You felt your whole world tumble around you as you looked at them. At him. Your heart was speeding in your chest, a feeling spreading in your stomach as if you had been sucker punched.

This couldn’t be real, there was no way. But then again, there was no reason why it wouldn’t be. There were more epic scenarios you could have come up with to reunite with your … family. And nevertheless, you had stopped having dreams like that a long time ago. You had given up on hoping a day like this would come.

But now it was here, apparently, and it was so unspectacular, it was almost funny.

They walked in here, after years, in fancy suits and badges, wanting to know about- what exactly was it they wanted to know about?

You cleared your throat and took a deep breath, gathering yourself.

“What are you doing here?” Compared to the chaos inside of you, your voice sounded calm and collected, almost devoid of any emotion, and a part of you was proud.

Sam cleared his throat. You noticed he looked older.

Well, no shit. But more … drawn, from his experience. Trauma, maybe. You hadn’t been aware of much when you were a child, but that their work took a toll on them, that had been unmistaken.

And Sam’s eyes held a story that seemed as tragic as it seemed muddled.

“We heard about Roy Kendall’s death,” he answered.

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline. They had heard about Roy. Did that mean they were here to-

“And we’re here to find out what killed him.”

What?

“What?”

“Yeah, we, uh-“ Sam shifted his weight awkwardly, “We don’t think it was a … natural death.”

“Well, no shit.” Roy’s chest had been cracked open. You were no coroner, but even you knew that couldn’t exactly be filed under the case of natural deaths.

Now, Dean took a small step forward, trying his best to hold eye contact with you, and your shoulders subconsciously stiffened.

“Y/N-,” he started.

“Dean,” you shot back.

And that wort was like a punch in his guts. Dean felt physically sick. But how could he expect any different really?

You noticed him stumbling slightly at the word, a look of hurt crossing over his face.

Good, you thought.

A part of you wanted to hit him in the chest, scream at him until your voice was raw, Why did you do this? Why did you leave me? When did you stop loving me?

But in the end, you didn’t.

You would rather die than give him the satisfaction of breaking down.

Why you thought he would feel satisfaction at your hurt, you didn’t know.

“So, Roy,” you simply said, something to break the pressing silence in the room.

Sam nodded. “Yes, exactly. We, uhm –“ He pointed to the third man you had never seen before, “and Castiel, we wanted to ask you a few things about him.”

You glanced at the guy in the trenchcoat, who raised his hand to do an awkward little wave. “Nice to meet you.”

“Too,” you said.

There was a silence again, until Dean took the floor. “So, he was one of your friends?” He asked, “That Roy kid?”

People had been doing it for days, yet something about them talking about one of your best friends in the past tense made your stomach turn with uneasiness.

You hummed in agreement.

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Sam said.

“Stick it,” you bit back, and crossed your arms in front of your chest. Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

“Did your friend mention anything … out of the ordinary happen, before he was killed?” The third guy, with the trenchcoat and the weird name which you had already forgotten, asked.

You clenched your jaw and something about the way Dean pressed his eyes shut in exasperation made you believe that this guy’s bluntness was something quite common.

“No,” you simply said. Trenchcoat frowned.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked, taking a slight step forward.

“Yes, I am. Roy never said anything about anything strange that would be in any way valuable to your case.”

“What do you mean by that?” Dean questioned.

You shrugged. “What I said.”

“Y/N, any information you can give us about Roy’s behavior before he died is extremely important and could really help us,” Sam urged.

Something about the way your name slipped off his tongue, with that sense of familiarity and normal, made your skin itch.

You took a deep breath and cleared your throat. “Well, I mean - he just mentioned that he was having those … terrible nightmares all of a sudden.” You shrugged. “Like I said, nothing that would be worth writing down.”

Sam did it anyways.

Dean tilted his head and looked at you quizzically. “Why would you think his nightmares were unusual? I mean, everyone has bad dreams from time to time.”

You shifted your weight uncomfortably. “Yeah, I know, but it’s just …” You paused. This was stupid. “It’s stupid, really, but – Roy doesn’t usually dream.”

Didn’t, you corrected in your head, but the word didn’t make it past your lips.

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

“And it was just strange, because he was having these nightmares frequently, or rather this nightmare, because it was always the exact same,” you keep rambling on.

“What was it about?” Dean asked.

You swept your hand across your forehead. “I don’t know, he wouldn’t talk much about it. Just said that it was like the worst day of his life replaying over and over.”

Dean nodded. Sam frowned in interest.

“Do you know what that was? The worst day of his life?”

You shrugged. “The day he lost his parents, probably,” you said. “The entire house burnt down right in front of him. He made it out, they didn’t.”

Your voice was quiet and pressed, still feeling bad about sharing such an intimate part of Roy’s history with those … strangers. A nagging part in the back of your mind kept telling you he wouldn’t – couldn’t – mind anymore.

Sam’s pen kept scraping over his notebook, and Dean threw a glimpse over his brother’s shoulder. As you watched them, your gaze fell on trenchcoat-guy, who was still positioned in the corner of your room, just a few steps behind them.

He was observing you with interest, blue eyes staring back into yours as if he was looking directly at your soul. Something like a chill ran down your spine.

The man tilted his head, as you diverted your attention back to Dean and Sam. His brows were furrowed.

Cas recognized you. He didn’t know where from, but you looked so weirdly … familiar. Your features, the shape of your face. They way you talked and moved.

“Your boyfriend is staring at me weirdly,” you mentioned to Dean, as you caught the man’s gaze again.

Dean turned his head and looked at him, then back to you. “Yeah, he tends to do that.”

You lifted your eyebrows and made an ‘Ah’ sound. Trenchcoat was getting weirder by the second. But at least the guy had stopped his creepy staring. For now.

“Look, I don’t want you guys here. But I understand that your presence is necessary in order to catch whatever it is that’s killing my friends. So, you just do your thing, look around a bit, kill something, and then leave. Both of you.”

With a look at the third guy in the trenchcoat, you added, “Three.”

Dean avoided your eyes, but Sam nodded jerkily and cleared his throat again. “Yeah, we uh … we understand that.”

He straightened his coat and turned to leave the room. “Thank you for your help for now, really. We’ll get in touch if we need anything else.”

You nodded simply, even though you didn’t exactly know what to make of that idea.

As Sam and trenchcoat-guy made their way to leave the room, Dean took a small step towards you and pulled something out of his suit jacket.

“And if there’s anything else you might remember or see, you can always give us a call.” You stared at the small paper he had handed to you. With dark blue pen, a phone number was sloppily scribbled on it. The edges of the paper were uneven, it had probably been ripped off a bigger sheet.

You pursed your lips and nodded.

“Yeah.” You didn’t know what else to say. Thank you wasn’t really in the cards right now. Dean cleared his throat and stepped back with a nod. Then, they left the room one by one.

“Have a nice day,” Sam said.

“You, too.” The answer came automatically. The door closed behind them with a click, and you were alone again.

The small paper suddenly felt incredibly heavy in your hand.

—

When Dean stepped through the threshold and out into the hallway, he felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off his chest. He took a deep breath like a man starved.

The sick feeling in his stomach still lingered.

He didn’t even wait for the click of the closing door before he started making his way to the exit, trusting that his brother and Castiel would follow.

His fast steps echoed over the hallway, when suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder yank him around. Dean was staring into the eyes of his younger brother. He shook his arm to let Sam’s hand harshly fall off.

“What?”

Sam didn’t say anything, and Dean just glared at him. It was Castiel who spoke up first. His head was tilted, eyebrows scrunched, and a curious tone in his voice.

“She is your … daughter.” It wasn’t a question. Cas had figured out the root of all of Dean’s hesitation – to come here, to stay here, to investigate. All because of one person, that he knew was so close to Dean Winchester, but yet way too far than two people with their natural bond should be.

“What gave it away?” Dean turned to Cas. His tone was bitter. “The attitude or the way she hates my guts?”

Castiel looked him up and down.

“She is so similar to you,” he stated matter-of-factly, completely ignoring Dean’s sarcastic response.

Dean exchanged an annoyed look with his little brother, who simply shrugged.

“All right, now that we’ve cleared that up,” Dean gruffed and made his way down the hallway again, “Let’s go.”

He trusted that the others followed him quietly.

When they reached the gravel path that led from the small castle to their car, Sam picked up his pace to catch up with his older brother. “Dean, I’ve been thinking.”

The man scoffed. “Oh, don’t hurt yourself like that, Sammy.”

“I’m serious.” Sam halted next to his brother and pulled him to a stop with a firm hand on his shoulder. “And I think, maybe… we should sit this one out.”

The way Sam said the last bit was careful, and Dean tilted his head as he turned to his younger brother. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying, maybe this case is too personal for us, Dean. Maybe we should let some other hunter take care of it.”

Dean shook his head. “No way. This is the first time in years that I get to see my daughter, I will not just throw this away.” He lifted his index finger to point it at his brother.

“Well, what exactly is it that you want to do, Dean? It’s not like the two of you have the strongest father-daughter bond!” Sam scoffed and his arms in the air.

Dean started walking towards the impala again. “I know, and that’s why I want to make things right with her.”

“What for, Dean? Just so we leave her here, again?”

"I don’t know!” Dean whirled around in fury as he yelled the words. He slumped his shoulders.

“I don’t know, okay?” He said, his voice was smaller now. “Look, let’s just … let’s finish this case. Give me some time to figure things out and then we will decide.” Dean peeled himself out of his suit jacket and tossed it in the backseat of the impala. He slammed the door. “But first, let’s save some lives.”

Sam shook his head. “Alright. Whatever you say.” He matched Dean as he opened the door to the back and tossed his jacket on the leather seats.

“By the way, where’s Cas?”

Sam threw a look around them. He was right, the angel was nowhere to be found. He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he zapped to the motel again.”

Dean frowned as he pulled open the front door. The hinges squealed. “We need to have a serious talk with him about that. Can’t have him disappearing on me the entire time.”

Sam frowned. Dean meant them, right? Couldn’t have him disappearing on them the entire time. Us.

Right?

Sam decided to shrug his brother’s strange comment off for now and got in the passenger’s seat.

“We have to go there anyways. Do some research,” he said.

Dean hummed and started the car. Sam could about assume what that meant. The gravel gnarled under the Impala’s tires as they drove off.

—

Back alone in your room again, you sat on your desk chair as your playlist of favorite songs blasted through your headphones. Dark ink started covering your thighs, where you were drawing on them with your pen as you had placed them on the surface of the desk.

The past few minutes, your mind had been insanely occupied with processing what the actual fuck had just happened. Because. Well. What the actual fuck had just happened?

When they had knocked on your door, you had expected the normal questioning, something that Cass and Finn had been talking about anyways.

When you turned around, just to stare at the face of Dean Winchester, your mind had gone fully devoid of every thought ever formed.

The typical “heart slipping into your pants.”

It felt as if you had worked on autopilot, not even coherently remembering what you had said to them. Had your reaction been an appropriate one? After years of imagining this exact scenario, in all ways and forms it could’ve played out, you not being able to form a simple sentence had not been one of them.

In afterthought, maybe you should’ve punched Dean.

Maybe that would’ve been the appropriate response.

The sharp sound of a knock at your door made you startle. You pulled your headphones off your ears and turned the music off. Those things were great, but in all those years they had never quite managed to overpower the sounds around you.

Maybe that was why you were still allowed to wear them all the time.

“Who’s there?” You asked loudly into the room.

“Me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. The fuck? How was there not a single normal person knocking on your bedroom door today?

“Who is me?” You asked again.

The door opened just the tiniest bit, creaking in the process, and through peeked the head of the third man that had accompanied Sam and Dean earlier.

Trenchcoat guy.

“It’s me,” he repeated.

You frowned. “Uhm - come in?” You invited him and lifted your feet off the table.

Trenchcoat guy carefully shuffled in through the gap in the door until he stood in your room, awkwardly, and his stiff posture made him look so out of place, it was almost funny.

When he didn’t seem to plan on doing anything more than eyeing the bookshelf on the other wall, you decided to speak up.

“I’m sorry, but I think I forgot your name.”

Slowly, he turned his attention back to you, as if he had now just remembered that you were there. “I’m Castiel,” he answered in a deep, gravelly voice.

You raised your eyebrows. “Ah. Right.” Another beat of silence. “Are you, like - Dean’s boyfriend or something?” You asked.

Castiel frowned and tilted his head. “Me and your father are not romantically involved in any way whatsoever,” he reassured you.

“Ah,” you said again. Then, “Did Dean send you?”

Castiel shook his head, almost offended at the implication. “After our … conversation, earlier, he figured you were not too enthusiastic to see him. That is why only I am here.”

You swallowed hard. No, that wasn’t true.

“He’s damn right.”

Castiel nodded.

Then it was quiet again. “Is there … anything you need?” You dragged out, unsure of what he was planning to do in here exactly.

“Well, no, not specifically, I just - wanted to talk to you,” Castiel said, though he seemed not too secure about his purpose himself. “About your father.”

“Dean,” you corrected, but were sure Castiel didn’t miss how your shoulders stiffened at it. The man in the trenchcoat frowned and dipped his head lightly.

“Yes, your father.” He repeated.

You shook your head. “He’s not my father. He’s just Dean.”

“As I understand it, you were conceived through him and your mother having sexual intercourse, therefore-“

“Okay! Thank you,” you interrupted him and raised your hand to sign stop. “What do you want?”

Castiel took a few steps closer to you, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor as he seemed to look for the right words.

“I fear your father- Dean,” he corrected himself with a look in your direction, “does feel very bad about what happened between you and him.”

You pursed your lips. “So? Did he tell you that?”

Castiel looked sheepish. “No,” he answered honestly, “But I know your- him. Just because he does not like to talk about his feelings does not mean that he does not feel them.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Let me ask you something, Castiel,” you said. He nodded. “Anything.”

“Do you know at all what happened? Between me and him?”

Again, Castiel looked away. You did not know this man. You did not know what his history with Dean was, or with Sam. But you knew that he knew nothing.

“No.” That one word confirmed it.

You bit the inside of your cheek.

“Then - excuse my choice of words - but you have no room to talk. And if Dean wants to tell me something, he can always do that himself. In person. He’s here anyway.”

Castiel nodded. “Alright.”

It was silent again, between you and him, until Castiel took in a sharp breath and leaned forward into something close to a bow.

“I’m sure they await me,” he explained. “Goodbye, Y/N.” He then turned around to open the door, but paused mid his action.

“You do look a lot like him, you know?” He said.

That’s it.

“Out,” you ordered him harshly and Castiel walked through the door, closing it behind him.

—

You had, in fact, ended up helping Cass study for her upcoming exam. Well, what means help, you had asked her questions and she had to answer them correctly - which worked expectedly not so well.

“I can just play the dead friend card,” she had joked, but you knew that she was actually actively considering it.

In that moment though, you had just skipped over her remark and continued asking her about the digestive system of a Baird’s beaked whale.

It was already late at night when the two of you finally hugged goodbye.

“Thank you so much,” she said. “You helped a lot. I’ll forget it all until tomorrow morning, but I do appreciate your effort.”

You smiled at her. “Don’t worry, you’ll nail it. Or at least not fail.”

She laughed. “You think too highly of me, Y/N.”

For a few moments, nobody said a word. “I never asked you,” Cass eventually started, “are you okay?”

You took a deep breath and shifted your weight. “Considering the circumstances, I guess. You?”

“Same thing,” she said. You laid your head back and stared at the ceiling. “It still feels weird only being three people,” you realized.

“Yeah,” Cass agreed quietly.

A few beats of silence passed, until you got yourself back together and shook your body as if to shake off your grief.

“But whatever,” you sighed. “Can’t change that now, can we?”

You looked at Cass and she hummed with a dull shrug, seeming lost in her own thoughts.

She absentmindedly opened her bedroom door, but just as she wanted to disappear into the room, you grabbed her arm to stop her for a second.

“By the way, about your nightmares,” you said, “maybe you can take some pills against that, if it gets too much. Unregulated sleep is probably worse than no sleep.”

Cass managed a tired smile. “Will try, thanks. Goodnight babes, love you,” she threw you a kiss.

“Love you too, good night,” you said back and smiled at her, waiting until she closed the door to enter your own room.

—

You didn’t know what woke you up. The glowing numbers of the digital clock on your nightstand showed it to be somewhere around half past three. Really not your usual wake-up time.

Just as you rolled around in your sheets to get your missing hours of sleep in, you heard strange shuffling outside your door. Perking up, you realized it sounded like the overlapping chatter of voices, and shoes pounding over the smooth floor.

Yeah, no way you would be going back to sleep now.

Especially not with the uncomfortable feeling that had settled into your stomach.

Stumbling a bit, your joints not quite awake yet, you trutted over to your door and creaked it open slightly.

The white light burned your eyes at the start, as you slipped out of your room and were met with the sight of multiple people fussing around not that far away.

The uneasy feeling only got worse, as you realized two things at once: The people were first responders, firefighters, to be exact. And they were all gathered around the open door across the hallway to yours.

Cass.

You moved on autopilot, as your feet carried you closer to the scene, eyes not leaving the gaping black hole that was the entrance to your best friend’s room.

“What happened?” You asked the closest paramedic next to you, a young man with brown hair and dark gear. It didn’t help much, because his voice faded out into the back of your head, as movement began to settle over the group.

The paramedic gestured his hands, as he talked to you, though that was not at all what had grabbed your attention.

You could only look at her, as she was lying sprawled out on the stretcher that was being wheeled out of her bedroom.

Cass.

But it wasn’t Cass, it couldn’t be. Dark grey plastic was wrapped around her body, covering her features as one of the firefighters that pushed the gurney zipped the material closed.

A body bag.

You felt bile rise into your throat.

Who put a seventeen-year-old in a body bag?

She wasn’t supposed to be there. What was she doing in there.

She had a biology exam tomorrow. She was supposed to join you at breakfast. In just a few hours. She was supposed to still lay in her bed and sleep, fast and sound.

Lay in her bed. Not on a moving gurney. Her bed.

You had laid in that bed. Just a few hours before.

The exam.

Breakfast.

Dark grey plastic.

Body Bag. A body. Dead. A dead body.

Dead. Dead. Gone.

Gone. Gone. Gone. Dead.

Like a distant echo, you still vaguely registered the young paramedic talking to you; he came to an abrupt stop when you bent over and threw up on his shoes.

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Sioux Falls 2009

The soft music that sounded through Grandpa Bobby’s old house reminded you of Auntie Ellen’s Roadhouse.

It made you a bit homesick, but for a while now, whenever you asked Dad if you could go there again, he just shook his head and said that it wasn’t possible.

That’s also the reason why you’d been living with Grandpa Bobby for very long now, he had told you.

Auntie Ellen and Jo came to visit sometimes, but it wasn’t the same. But you saw Dad much more often, and you liked that. You missed him whenever he went out and saved people.

Grandpa Bobby had told you that it was very important, what Dad and Uncle Sam did. That’s why you never complained when they stayed away for long.

Grandpa Bobby said they saved lives. Like firemen, he said. Or Sheriff Jody.

Auntie Ellen and Jo came over for a visit today. Dad had said that they were here to help him and Uncle Sam take care of something, that’s why they had to leave later.

Jo was playing your favorite boardgame with you. You had missed her. She was still very pretty. You knew your Dad thought that too.

“Alright,” Dad said, walking through the threshold that connected Grandpa Bobby’s workroom and the dinner table where you and Jo were currently playing. “It’s time to get this little Lady to sleep.”

You pouted at him.

“But Dad, I still want to stay up and play with Jo!”

Dad raised his eyebrows and threw a pointing look at his watch.

“It is already way past your bedtime, kiddo. And I heard tomorrow is a big school day?”

He was right. Tomorrow, you started your first singing lessons with all your bestest friends. Not all of them as best friends as Jo was, though.

Your shoulders slumped.

“Can I at least say Goodbye to you?”

Dean’s gaze went soft as he looked at you. He knew how hard this was for you, how he left all the time and came back for only such short periods. But he wanted to make this a better world for you to grow up in. And when all of this was over, and it would be tonight, hopefully, then he would allow himself to settle down and spend all the time he could give with you.

“Of course you can, my little love.”

Dad crouched down and lifted you up into his arms.

“Dean, Jo!” Came Auntie Ellen’s voice from the study, “We’re ready!”

Dad threw you a mysterious look as he stepped into Grandpa Bobby’s workspace, where he and Auntie Ellen and Uncle Sam already stood lined up.

You noticed the camera set up on a strange construction.

Auntie Ellen and Uncle Sam smiled when they saw you.

“You don’t mind a small addition, do you, Ellen?” Dad asked, and Auntie Ellen shook her head.

“Of course not!” She smiled, and made space for you and Dad to stand next to her. He was still carrying you in his arms, supporting your weight with his hip.

“Alright, on the count of three, all smile in the camera!” Uncle Sam said.

“One, two, three!”

You giggled when Dad tickled your stomach. You wanted to see the picture right now, but Grandpa Bobby had told you it would take a while to develop.

Enveloped in bear hugs from Auntie Ellen, Jo, Uncle Sam and Dad, to say goodbye to them, you finally agreed to go to bed.

“Dad?” You asked him, as he went to close the door behind him. Dad turned around and looked at you, snuggled into the warm blanket with your favorite stuffed animal under your arm.

“You’ll come back soon, right?”

Dad smiled at your words. “Of course I will, sweetheart. And Uncle Sam, and Auntie Ellen, and Jo. All of us.”

“You promise?”

Dad pressed a kiss into your hair.

“Don’t worry about that, baby. Sleep well.”

Even years later, Dean Winchester still carried an old photograph in his wallet, of a brunette mother, a blonde daughter, a father figure, and two brothers.

Though, one of them wasn’t looking at the camera, but rather at the small child he held on his side, his hand on her stomach as she blindingly smiled a carefree smile into the camera.

His own was dreamy as he watched her, and yes, for that moment, he dared to say, maybe even carefree as well.

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Now

Cass’s room was never quiet. Whether she was blasting music or playing guitar, singing her soul out in the shower or watching a move obnoxiously louder than it had to be.

Cass’s room was never quiet. Especially not as it was now.

The silver streams of light reaching through the window made her bedroom almost look so soft and inviting, as you stood there, observing, not quite in the hallway but not exactly in the room either.

It was macabre, what you saw. Not because the room looked so terrible, no, because it looked so … normal.

None of the bookshelves were tumbled over, or paper sprawled all across the floor.

The loose decoration items weren’t lying disheveled everywhere. No signs of a fight. A physical one.

The bed wasn’t made. Cass never did that.

The room looked so normal.

It looked so right.

So why wasn’t she?

“Y/N, sweetheart,” The sound of the familiar, comforting voice of Maria Whitlock reached your ears and made you slowly turn around.

Even through the blur of unshed tears in your eyes, you could make out the two familiar figures standing behind her.

“There’s someone here to talk to you.”

You blinked away the tears and caught Dean’s gaze, and for the first time since you had seen him again, his features looked so soft and merciful, towards you, it had the power to almost shatter your heart.

And you hated yourself for how much you wanted to be comforted by him, be held in his arms like the small child that once had been, only seeking safety with her-

“What are you doing here?” The question came out harsher than you had expected it to, almost an accusation. But neither Sam nor Dean did flinch at your tone.

“We wanted to talk to you.”

“Why?” It was obvious why. They knew, you knew, they knew you knew.

“I think you know about what,” Sam said, the softness in his voice grazing your stuttering heartbeat like a soft breeze.

Dean gestured in the direction of your room.

“In private.”

You didn’t want to speak alone to them. Then again, for the past almost-decade, it had been everything you could’ve wished for.

As you settled onto your bed, both Sam and Dean taking it upon themselves to find chairs to be comfortable, you felt like a small child again.

Looking at Dean, there was a familiarity that you needed, it was grounding, and you hated that it was. His presence, which had felt like home, and like safety for so long, being everything that you craved these past few days made your skin itch, because he still felt so right.

And you still felt so safe with him.

In a matter of seconds, you stood there and turned from a young woman into a small child, that wanted to throw herself in his arms and let him tell her that everything would turn out to be alright, because he was there, and he would look out for you. No matter what happened between the two of you, that had not changed, and you didn’t know what to think about it.

Sam was the first one to clear his throat. Of course he was.

“How are you feeling?”

Half-heartedly, because that was all you could muster right now, you raised an eyebrow at him. At least he had the decency to look a bit ashamed of his question.

“We’re sorry for your loss.”

Surprised, you turned your head to look at Dean. His green eyes were soft with sincerity.

“I don’t know how much she meant to you.” He glanced at Sam. “But I can imagine.”

You swallowed hard and looked back at your fumbling fingers again.

“Yeah, she was – she was great.” Your voice broke mid-sentence and you sniffled.

You cleared your throat. “Uhm, but – anyways, that’s not why you’re here. Am I right?”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, that could be regret as much as it could be pity, and then turned back to you.

“We’re sorry. But if we want to catch whatever is doing this, we need to have all the information,” Sam apologized.

You nodded. You already knew what they were going to ask, so you saved their time and jumped straight to the answers.

“There was nothing – unusual.” You rubbed your eyes. “She was okay just yesterday, she was- I helped her studying biology, we-“ You interrupted yourself.

Sam threw you another pitying look.

“Is there a chance she might’ve had nightmares too? You know, like Roy,” Dean asked you.

You threw your hand in the air. “Yeah, I guess,” you said. “Didn’t really think that much into it. You know, considering what happened.”

Dean bit the inside of his cheeks and gulped. “Right.”

It was quiet again. The brothers looked at each other one last time, before Sam stood up and fixed his suit jacket.

“Alright. We’re gonna leave you now.”

Please don’t.

You nodded.

Sam stretched his hand out to reach for you, but hesitated mid-air and pulled his arm back again.

“Whenever you need something,” Dean said meaningfully, before he stepped out the door, “Call us.” Call me.

You hummed absently.

The click of the lock drowned the bedroom in a deafening silence again.

—

Night came sooner than you thought it would. Sleep didn’t.

You thought, with the exhaustion that had been dragging down your bones all day long, it would only be a matter of time until exhaustion claimed you.

Without thinking about it, you grabbed your phone from your nightstand and opened up your chat with Finn.

With a sting in your heart, you realized that the last text conversation the two of you had had, had been more than a week ago.

Before all of this started.

Your keyboard clicked as you typed out the message.

hey

The answer came almost instantly.

Hey

can’t sleep either?

No

Your thumbs hovered over the buttons as you thought of what to type next.

I’m sorry we didn’t talk the entire day

It’s okay

It’s not like I came to see you either

would it be terrible to ask how you’re feeling?

Everyone’s been asking that

Oh, how you knew.

But to be honest

I don’t know

First Roy now Cass

Hasn’t reached my brain tbh

Feels more like a dream and I could wake up any second

I know what you mean

You paused for a moment, before you decided to send out the next text.

I’m still waiting for her to waltz into my room at 6 in the morning because she wants to get some mini donuts at breakfast before they’re all gone

You could practically hear the snickering laugh of Finn’s, as the icon told you he was typing out his next message.

Or letting my Alexa play the most random songs

I swear to God I’ve heard less sexual content in actual porn than that one Nicki Minaj song

first of all, it was cardi b, you pig, and

second that song is legendary

she was right to show it to you

A short while, you didn’t get an answer and you were almost afraid that Finn had either fallen asleep or that you had said something inappropriate, when the familiar ding made your screen light up.

We can catch up tomorrow

You know, maybe it would help us both

I know we haven’t been the same since all of this started, but I would really like us to be

Now more than ever

A heavy tug clamped around your heart at his words

you’re right

let’s talk tomorrow

Alright

Goodnight Y/N

good night finn

Sleep didn’t come in the first second after you plugged your phone on the charger, or even after you turned around to face the other wall.

But, as you laid on your back and felt the comforting arms of exhaustion grab after you, you had a feeling that it would’ve been worse if you had not talked to Finn.

—

Meanwhile, in the motel, Dean was slamming his third book this evening shut and tossed it onto the ever-growing pile of “absolute useless crap that nobody needed and was a total waste of time”. The name had been his idea.

Sam didn’t even look up as his brother stood up with a screeching from the wooden floor as he slid the chair back, and started pacing around the room.

“I hate this,” he mumbled under his breath.

“How is it even possible that, everywhere we look, there isn’t even the smallest hint at what we might be chasing?”

Demonstratively, he picks up a book from the pile they brought back from the library, and lets it fall on the desk again.

“Not to mention that we’re completely wasting our time here reading through this absolute crap, and we’ve got jack squat!”

The paper rustled as Sam turned another page.

“I already told you, Dean,” he muttered, eyes still concentrated on the faded ink of the book. “There was nothing online, so we had to go old-school.”

Dean kept muttering under his breath. “This is ridiculous.”

Sam rolled his eyes and placed a new book where his brother had been sitting a few minutes ago.

“If you want it to go faster and we can catch this thing, sit down and get to reading. Research doesn’t do itself.”

Dean was still cursing under his breath when he reached the second chapter.

—

The loud chatter of multiple conversations, accompanied by faint music playing in the background and the occasional clinking of glasses or beer bottles was an all too familiar mix of noises for you.

The light in the Roadhouse bar was still a warm-toned white, and the men and women all towered over you in lengths. Immediately, the feeling of home engulfed you.

You were looking around, searching for the familiar set of colorful crayons, where had your Auntie Ellen put them? You were bored and wanted to draw a pretty picture of the horse you had seen this morning.

Squeezing through the people, they all made way for you when they realized who wanted to get past them, you tried calling out for Auntie Ellen or Jo, but no tone left your throat.

A panicked feeling settled in your stomach.

Then, you spotted a tall figure just a few feet away from you. They were wearing a cool leather jacket and had their back turned to you.

You made your way over to them. You didn’t know why, but somehow you knew that this stranger could help you.

When you had almost reached them, they suddenly started moving and walked away. You wanted to cry after them, but you still couldn’t speak.

You moved your legs as fast as you could, running after them, but the people in the bar suddenly got more and more, always shoving and not making room for you anymore.

The person still hadn’t shown you their face, you could only see their back as you fought to get to them. Then, they walked through the door out of the Roadhouse.

With one last push, and a protesting yell that didn’t leave your throat, you rushed after them into the light.

With a creak, the Impala’s door swung open, and you shuffled your feet out of the car until they hit the gravel.

Dad had offered to open the door for you, but you were a big girl already, you could get out of the car on your own.

When you turned around to ask him what you were doing here, you faltered.

The Impala was gone. So was Dad. And Uncle Sam. You looked around, but they were nowhere to be found. Your breathing quickened as you realized that you were alone, somewhere you didn’t know, on stoney ground with only your bunny slippers. You didn’t even have your favorite stuffed animal with you!

“Hey, let’s go,” you suddenly heard a voice say, and turned around to see a girl with black hair stand in front of you.

Suddenly, as you had just been looking up to her, the two of you were now eye to eye. She just stared at you.

A name popped into your head.

Cass.

That’s weird. You knew a Cass. And then it hit you.

Your best friend. Roy, Finn, Cassandra. Sam and Dean.

But Cass was dead. She couldn’t be here. Looking around, you noticed that the scenery around you was blurry by the edges.

Weren’t you standing on a pathway just now? Why were you in a cafeteria?

This wasn’t real, none of it. It was a dream.

Harsh dread clawed itself into your heart like iced water. You had to get out of here. How did you get out of a dream?

You knew it, you had done this before, with your nightmares. You had to die.

You moved your feet, tried running away, but the floor wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard you tried, you didn’t move an inch, it’s like you were stuck.

You began to panic. This couldn’t be, there had to be a way for you to get out.

The next thing you knew, you lost the ground beneath your feet, and everything was black. You were falling.

You felt your organs being lifted by the air pressing you up, felt your heart pump so hard you were afraid it would jump out of your chest.

There was nothing around, only darkness, only empty.

No, no, no.

You wanted to scream, but your vocal cords were cut. Not a sound escaped your lips.

You had to get out, if there was nothing around you, how could you die?

You screamed without a sound.

If this was your dream, why couldn’t you just shape it the way you wanted?

The next thing you knew, there was light around you, and you were running again.

“Dean, look at this.” Sam slammed a massive book under Dean’s nose, dangerously close to Dean’s freshly filled coffee. Reflexive, Dean pulled the cup a few inches away.

Sam placed his finger on one of the open pages of the book. “Here,” he said. “I think this could be it.” Dean leaned forward to read.

You had landed on a road, a highway, judging by the many cars around you. This time, you actually managed to run somewhere, even if a lot slower than you usually would. Like treading through water.

It felt like you were chasing something, but you didn’t know what it was.

“If this is really it,” Dean said, when he finished reading, “Then we have a big problem.”

You did your best to remember your original plan. Right now, you were on a stripe of green next to the busy road. You had to change that.

Sam nodded heavily. “We need to get to Saint George’s immediately.”

Sam grabbed his jacket, but Dean didn’t move an inch, still staring at the handwritten words on the old paper in front of him.

You used all your strength to tread to the left, where cars were rushing from both sides over the street.

“This thing basically feeds off of bad experiences, right?”

Sam nods.

It was a red car that did it. You saw it coming as you made a beeline over the highway. As you noticed the headlights speeding towards you, for a split second you asked yourself, “What if this isn’t a dream. What if this is real.” You didn’t feel the impact when the car hit you.

“Then that means-“ Dean’s head shot up so fast Sam feared his brother would get whiplash.

“Y/N,” Dean breathed out.

Your heart was still beating rapidly in your chest when you officially woke up. The memory of the nightmare was still rushing through your minds, pictures playing behind your eyelids.

You had a hard time breathing, your chest felt as if it was carrying a hard weight that caged in your lungs.

You forced open your eyes to get yourself a glass of water. You were met with two yellow glowing orbs staring right back at you, merely inches away from your face in the darkness of the room.

You couldn’t stop the terrified scream that erupted from your throat.

oooh guys, only one chapter to go! what are we thinking? do you have any ideas on what the monster could be? and what do we think about cass and finn? comments & reblogs are always appreciated, see y’all in the next part!

#dean winchester fic #dean winchester x child!reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x daughter!reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural imagine #supernatural #father of mine #sweet child o mine #yourmomxx

[greetings-and-salutations]

“Get Your F*cking Hands Off Her, A*shole!”

Eli “Hawk” Moskowitz x Reader

Countdown to Cobra Kai Season 5 - 8 Days left!!!

Masterlist

(Gif not mine)

Requested? No

Summary: It was an unspoken rule around West Valley High that (Y/n) (Y/l/n) was completely and utterly off limits. No one dared test the boundaries when it came to that rule, for fear that her Mohawk-clad boyfriend would go all Cobra Kai on them. Of course, every now and again, a newbie didn’t get the memo…

Warnings: starred out swear words, overprotective Hawk, creepy dude making (Y/n) uncomfy, prejudice against “North Hills” with a substantial lack of reasoning to back it up 😬😂, lack of adherence to plot line of the source material

Pairing: Eli “Hawk” Moskowitz x Fem!Reader

IM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE 😬😬 I’m trying to get back on schedule as soon as possible, I promise! 👌👌👌

Eli Moskowitz and (Y/n) (Y/l/n) were in love. Everyone knew it, and, because of Eli’s status in their school’s hierarchy as “Hawk” the “Cobra King,” no one dared refute it. It was a system that worked. An unspoken line, if you will, that, when crossed, was swiftly dealt with. And the perpetrator never did it again. Hawk made sure of that.

But there were still some who, to them, the pretty girl in math class was simply the pretty girl in math class. Nothing more. No ties to a Mohawked gang leader, and certainly no harm in asking her out on a date this weekend. Perhaps to the movies? There was a pretty cool drive in just across town…

“That’s a bad idea.” Toby turned to look at the girl who’d spoken, an embarrassed expression on his face at having been caught staring, before he crossed his arms over his chest and scowled, in an attempt to cover it up.

“What?” He asked, glaring at her, annoyed by her unhelpful interjection in something that clearly didn’t involve her. He didn’t know who she was, being the new kid usually meant that was the case, but, Toby could already tell, whoever this girl was, she wasn’t someone he wanted to be spending his time with. She gave him the heebie jeebies, and not in the good way. Her face suddenly transformed into a smirk, before she gestured towards where his eyes had been trained just moments before.

“You’re staring at (Y/n) right?” She asked her own gaze taking in the sight of the girl at her locker just down the hall. Toby cringed a little, having hoped he’d been a tad more discreet, but this creepy girl had seen right through him.

“So?” He asked, defensively, wondering what exactly she wanted from him, landing on simply “picking on the new guy,” before she opened her mouth and spoke again.

“Yeah. That’s not gonna happen. Trust me, dude.” She replied, vaguely, but Toby just rolled his eyes, not believing her for a second.

“Who even are you?” He asked rudely, but the girl just laughed, an unsettling sound that left Toby’s skin crawling.

“Tory with a y.” She answered, as if he should know. (He didn’t.) “Listen, newbie.” She pouted sarcastically, before patting his shoulder. “I get it. You don’t know how things work around here.” Her patting ceased as she grabbed his shoulders, rather harshly turning him back towards the math class girl; towards (Y/n). “But I’m telling you right now, She’s not someone you wanna mess with.” Toby scoffed, his patience for this conversation wearing thin, as he pulled out of Tory’s grip.

“She seems harmless.” He said, before turning away from (Y/n) and towards his unwanted companion. “You, however, weird me out, so I’m gonna go talk to (Y/n). Bye, now.” He began to walk off, heading towards the girl’s locker and mentally psyching himself up as he did, before a loud voice called out after him.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Tory yelled, but Toby just rolled his eyes again, before mumbling under his breath.

“You can’t tell me what to do, psycho…”

+ + +

“And then I told him that if he tried to do that again I was gonna take his face and-“

“Hey, Hawk!” The boy turned around when Tory’s voice sounded over the conversation, an annoyed look on his face at being interrupted.

“What is it?” He spat angrily, causing Tory to raise her hands in mock defense.

“Just thought you’d wanna know I just saw the new guy practically eye-banging your girl in the hallway.” She said casually, but Hawk’s heart stopped all the same.

“What?” He asked, through gritted teeth, hoping he’d heard her wrong. But Tory just nodded her head.

“Some dude. Troy or Tanner or something. New kid. Just moved here from North Hills or some sh*t.” She was still talking but, past the point of confirmation, Hawk was done listening.

“Where is he now?” He asked, his fists clenched, itching to do to this new kid what he’d been about to describe before Tory’s interruption. Nobody messed with his (Y/n)…

“Last I saw he was headed towards (Y/n)’s locker. Something about asking her out?”And that was when Hawk snapped.

“The he*l he is!” (Y/n) was HIS girlfriend. Everyone knew that. Who did he think he was? This punk coming in and trying to cheat the system, and steal away HAWK’S girl? This Troy, or Tanner, or whatever-the-f*ck his name was, was gonna pay. And Hawk was gonna make sure of it.

“I’m gonna go deal with this sh*thead. Beat his a*s…”

+ + +

“You’re (Y/n), right?” (Y/n) (Y/l/n) spun around quickly at the voice, confused as she didn’t recognize it, before coming face to face with the new kid she vaguely remembered from one of her earlier classes. She smiled politely, before responding.

“Yeah, that’s me.” She agreed, before a frown reached her face. “I’m sorry I don’t-“ She began apologizing for not recalling his name, but the boy cut her off with a shrug, leaning against the locker beside hers and effectively boxing her in, though (Y/n) assumed it was unintentional.

“Toby. I just moved here.” (Y/n) nodded along at his words, as she took a small step back, only for her foot to collide with the metal of a locker door.

“Toby… hi.”

“Hi…” (Y/n) wondered what exactly it was that he wanted, or whether it was just to introduce himself. But if that was the case, why hadn’t he left yet?

“Did you need something?” She asked, hoping she didn’t come off as rude or anything, though if she did, he didn’t point it out, or do anything really other than shake his head while laughing at himself.

“Sh*t, yeah. Um, I was actually wondering…” He trailed off, his eyes meeting hers in an intense gaze that she was both unwilling and unable to reciprocate. “Well, you’re really pretty, ya know…” (Y/n) didn’t like where this was going. She made to carefully remove his arm from the locker, so that she could walk away, but Toby apparently wasn’t finished, and reached for her wrist, holding it tightly in his grip to keep her in place. “Hold on just a second!” (Y/n)’s eyes widened in shock. “I dunno… I was sorta thinkin-“

“Get your f*cking hands off her, a*shole!”

+ + +

If Hawk wasn’t already seeing red at just the idea of someone he didn’t know flirting with (Y/n), the sight of her being held up against a locker with that frightened look on her face would surely have done it. And it did, for the next move Hawk made was not something that he would have ever done in front of his girlfriend had the situation not demanded it…

“Get your f*cking hands off her, a*shole!” It was like time had slowed down, and there was no one in the room but them; Hawk, and the sleezeball touching his girl.

The new guy spun around, his expression clearly annoyed, until he noticed the murderous one pointed back at him. His face dropped in worry.

“Look, dude. I dunno what you think-“ He began (trying to explain himself, perhaps?), but Hawk’s attention remained on his hand… that had yet to move.

“Oh I know exactly what I think!” He practically growled, stepping forward threateningly. “I think you’ve got your sh*tty North Hills hands all over my girlfriend, and if you don’t let go right now I’m gonna send you back to North Hills; only this time it’ll be in a body bag!” On a normal day, Hawk would’ve smirked at the “I just wet myself” look that had suddenly appeared on the dopes face, but this wasn’t a normal day. On a normal day, if some douche bag decided to mess with Hawk they’d do it directly, not through (Y/n). There was a level of respect there, at least for the girl. Because, everyone knew, messing with him was on thing, but (Y/n)? Practically a death sentence.

“I-I didn’t know-“ The new guy stuttered out, his grip finally releasing from (Y/n)’s skin, the girl slipping away from him and behind her boyfriend the moment she was able. Hawk felt her small hands tighten against the back of his hoodie and his angry frown deepened.

“Oh “you-you didn’t know”?” He mocked, carefully removing his girlfriends fingers from his clothes and advancing towards the other boy, nothing stopping him now from cracking this dweebs skull. He’d teach him not to mess with his girl again…

+ + +

Smack!

Smack!

“Ow!”

Crunch!

Pop!

Pop!

“Ughhhhhhhh…”

Crack!

“Stop, please!”

Hawk dropped the bruised and bloody body of the new kid harshly on the floor, before standing over him, his breathing heavy. (Y/n)’s eyes were wide. She’d never seen this side of him before. Sure, she knew he got into fights. She had to clean him up after them all the time. But he usually made it a point to keep her out of them. Though, (Y/n) supposed there wasn’t much way to keep her out of this one, since it happened over her. She frowned, suddenly feeling immensely guilty.

“If I see you anywhere near her again, we’ll be back here. Got it?” He snarled, his back now to (Y/n), which she appreciated, as she wasn’t sure she wanted to see his face look like that. She liked the soft way her Eli looked at her. She didn’t think she’d be too fond of visions of angry Hawk intruding her lovesick thoughts. “I said: Do. You. Understand!?!” (Y/n) watched the guy nod his head so fast she thought it might fall off, before scrambling to his feet. Hawk turned to make his way towards his friends and his girl, calling back over his shoulder as he did. “Now, get outta here before I change my mind.”

+ + +

“You okay, Princess?” Hawk had cooled down a little at the look on her face, hating that he’d contributed to it, but also knowing he’d had to do what he did. (Y/n) nodded slightly, though she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Hawk frowned, worried she was upset with him about the fight, though he couldn’t fathom why. That douchebag was hurting her. He’d just put a stop to it like any good boyfriend would. Speaking of…

“Can I see?” He gestured towards her wrist, receiving a small noise of agreement. He reached for her hand, his anger gradually returning as he took in the obvious fingerprints against her smooth skin. He tried to calm himself down, talking a deep breath before leaning down to press a soft kiss to her wrist.

“You’re gonna have a bruise.” He mumbled against her skin. But (Y/n) just shrugged.

“I don’t care.” Hawk sighed, running his hand down the side of his face anxiously.

“(Y/n)… you know I had to, right?” He asked, watching her face carefully as it changed, relief washing over him as she slowly nodded her head.

“I know… I just wanna go home. Can we?” She looked up at him with a small pout that Hawk was quick to agree to.

“Course, (Y/n/n). We can do anything you want.” He promised with a soft smile that dated back to his Eli days and was reserved exclusively for her. (Y/n) grinned a little, though Hawk wasn’t sure what was so funny. He wasn’t gonna comment on it though, just happy he’d got her smiling again.

“Ice cream?” She asked hopefully, earning a chuckle from her boyfriend, as his arm wrapped around her shoulder and he steered her towards the door.

“Sure, Princess. Whatever you want.”

Tag lists are open!!!

Tags: @electriclcvewp @kaqua @nickangel13

#Countdown to Cobra Kai Season 5 #cobra kai fanfic #eli cobra kai #hawk cobra kai #cobra kai hawk #cobra kai x reader #cobra kai fic #hawk moskowitz x reader #hawk moskowitz #eli hawk moskowitz #eli moskowitz fanfic #eli moskowitz fanfiction #eli moskowitz x reader #eli moskowitz

[kivedreams]

I WANT YOU. part. I knj.

pair. idol namjoon x f. reader. f. is latina poc.

genre. falling in love, established relationship, romance, marriage

warnings. +18 racism and colorism discussed [this part does not contain smut, but the story is not made for a minor audience] this super delulu coded [pls tell me if i missed anything ]

synopsis; you make my life shine, and I think I also make yours shine or you didn't know how hard a relationship with a famous person would be

word count: 4.7k

A/N: i let my delusions run free with this one, i think ill be four parts.

next part.

Just a the moment you thought the party was dying down they arrived, is not like you hated the idea of having a party, but this week has been hard on you, nothing went exactly as you planned, having your thesis send back two times in a row, draw you down, that thesis was the last thing between you and your PhD, you knew it was going to be hard, but God it really was testing you, of course you were happy for Namjoon today was a big day for him, he was finally releasing the book that he always wanted to publish a full guide on The Joseon era art and its influence in today's korean artwork, Namjoon was really proud of korean artists, so being able to pay homage to them was a big thing for him and for you, because Namjoon happiness was part of your own. 

The tight red dress that you were wearing might have been a bit too much, but it was Namjoon’s gift. It might have been tighter because you had put on some weight due to the stress of these months. Going to the gym or doing any type of exercise was the last thing on your mind. You would have been lying if you did not admit that, it was one of the things that were making you feel insecure tonight, your relationship was already hard, nobody believed that Namjoon the first born child of a korean family, the leader of the most successful kpop group and now Namjoon the writer would settle for you, a latin woman of color, that did not appeal to a single one of the korean standards, you weren't insecure by Namjoon’s feelings, but you were insecure on how everyone else feelings and prejudices might influence his decisions, is not like you were desperate for the ring, you really didn't need it, nor were you prepared for marriage, but sometimes it feel like the only thing that could silenced all the voices in your head, all the social media talk, and of course everyone around you. 

“Y/N?” He called for you. You were still in the balcony of the apartment, seated in the light brown handmade chair you purchased for the space, with a glass of wine enjoying the Seoul night, a slight breeze, and of course the beauty of the balcony Namjoon and you have crafted together, a lot of plants were everywhere accompanied by artworks and souvenirs that you both had collected through the years, some on your travels together, some alone.

“Yes, darling” you responded looking at him, Namjoon was an extremely handsome man, you loved that haircut in him, and his choice of clothing today was a masterpiece, that beige suit with a purple turtle neck top was a perfect mix. He looked at you with confusion in his eyes, he quickly brushed that look a way and sais,

“My parents are here, they're asking for you” Are they? was the only thing in your mind

You walked to him with a smile taking his hand, to greet them and most of the guest that have arrived since you little rendezvous to the balcony, you were begging that nobody would notice your weight, your thighs were clearly giving a show in that dress, god I hope the concealer is strong enough to cover the sleep bags in my eyes, do I still have lipstick on?

“Y/N!” His father greeted you “You look so beautiful tonight! How is your thesis going? Are you close to the finish line?” His father always looked happy to see you, but was he?

“Mr. Kim! Thank you! And yes I'm close to the finish line, if everything goes as planned, I will be able to present it in a few weeks” You responded with a smile giving him a hug and doing the same with his mother. She always looked at you, at your hair with curiosity?  Of course 4B coils were not the norm in Korea, but Korean beauty standards weren't going to pressure you into hating your beautiful hair.

After polite talks and greetings for a whole night with people that were close to both of you, in professional and personal level, the night was over, Namjoon and you finished saying good bye to the last guest and his agent, the night was a success, as you knew it would be, Namjoon never fails to amaze you, you saw him the whole night , moving around and enchanting everyone, you get it, you too were enchanted by him.

Finally being able to get rid of the uncomfortable shoes and the red lace around your waist that made the dress even tighter and letting Namjoon in the living room talking with the service that was in charge of getting everything clean up and tidy again, walking straight to your room, dreaming of the comfort of your bed, you forgot all the things that were placed on top of it, because you didn't trust any of the frail art pieces to be in the open while everybody drank and mingle, with not other option, you moved to the balcony, walking down to the kitchen first taking a glass of wine with you and politely smiling to the service, Namjoon was out of your sight.

Sitting on the cold floor of the balcony letting your hair free from the detailed bun that it was made into, enjoying the silence and peace of the night. You felt empty, maybe too much stress plus the insecurities in your relationship were passing you the bills, in a few months you would be 30, and if you get your PhD granted, working as a full time curator in the national art museum of Seoul, just what you wanted, but was Namjoon on your side for it? you didn't know.

“Babe” He called, putting a blanket on top of you, you did not realize how cold you were until he did so “ Tired? they are almost finishing, our room is ready, lets go” 

You looked at him from the floor with your face resting on the wooden bench, giving him a little nod, but your body was not responding to the idea of standing up, maybe you were too tired, maybe it was that third glass of wine, reminding you that alcohol was not your forte.

“Too tired? “ He said lifting you up, you hugged him, getting flooded by his strong musky scent.

Before you could realize it you were already on the bedroom, headlight turn off, the only light in the room coming from the bed stands, Namjoon sat you on the edge of the bed looking at you with curious eyes, his hands on you waist, you could feel his breathing, warmth, “Can we talk in the morning?” you ask, with almost no energy to spare.

“Is everything ok?” he asked back, now with a worried look on his face.

“Yes, I am exhausted, let's talk tomorrow please” you said standing up making your way to the bathroom, trying to unzip the dress off and failing. 

“Ok” He said, hugging you from the back, there it was again his scent, it made you feel so calm, at peace.

He started to remove the dress from you, leaving you there exposed to his eyes, and to yours. You could see the reflection in the mirror, how he was hugging you even harder, tighter, Namjoon loved you, you knew that.  He started to remove his own clothes, making you move the other side of the sink to remove your makeup.

You heard the water running in the tub, namjoon got close to you naked, “Want to take a bath?” 

“No, I’ll take a quick shower and go to bed”

“Ok darling “ He said, kissing your neck. Making you move.

He flicked due to the inspected action “I'm not in the mood to have sex” You said, before he could say anything.

“Is ok, I just want to feel you…” he said with a hurt look, you took a step back using the shower as an excuse. Namjoon was even more confused, because you never rejected physical touch, so it felt as if you were rejecting him, but you weren’t, you just wanted to reject the feeling that you had for him, because it felt like you had everything to lose.

It was around 2AM when you two were in bed together, Namjoon pulled you close, and you couldn't say no, you couldn't do that to him again. Nighttime passed through your eyes seeing the sun rise that sunday morning, you weren't able to sleep just thinking about all the possibilities, weighing your options, you could finish your phd and go back to your country, even though it was useless, jobs for a art history doctor, were not easy to find everywhere, you didn't think that you would be able to continue to live in korea after breaking up with him… the thought made you sob, you couldn't stay in bed anymore, so you quietly stood up, walking to your safe place the balcony.

The living room was like it always use to be everything clean up and in its place, you saw the blanket that namjoon used on you last night perfectly folded, taking it to the balcony with you, a cup of tea to clean your mind and a lonely space for you to cry in peace, and there you were cuddling up in the chair, with the cold morning breeze it was 6AM, but you were crying, because there were no other options for you, you knew, Namjoon would not settle for you, you'll never live up to the standard needed to be his wife, so it was better to finish it now, than wait for later.

Only your cries and the mobile hanging in the side could be heard, so that was it, like that, it was going to be over.

“Y/N?!” He called, and you used all your strength to hide your tears, but of course he noticed.

“Are you ok honey? Talk to me” You could hear the worry in his voice, you really tried to pull back the tears, but seeing him did not help

And there, both of you were, him hugging you and giving you solace, until your crying stopped, and all you could feel was his heartbeat, his hand going up and down comforting you. There he was for you, and you were about to end a 4 year old relationship.

You meet namjoon 7 months into arriving in seoul, while you were doing your master your favorite professor suggested you to pursue a doctorate in Korea, she knew people, she could get you a internship in Seoul’s national museum while you studied, and of course she knew people in HanYang university, you knew she was an important woman in the area, but you sub estimated her contacts and power, and there you were a year later accepted into Hanyang university with a full scholarship and paid internship, you didn't know how, but the rumor that you were there due to nepotism spread all over your department reaching your workplace, while it was true that your professor helped you, the scholarship was won fairly due to your grades and the ingenuity of your master's thesis. It made your work and student life harder, as if the racism and colorism wasn't enough, but of course you weren't there to make friends, you were there to finish your studies and make a name for yourself. 

That just made everyone hated you more, your coworkers thought it would be great for you, a newly hire to conduct a private view of a new exposition for a VIP, at that point you did not know if it was the racism, the nepotism rumor or because they did not want to make it themselves; but at the end that's how you met namjoon, of course you knew who he was, you might not been his fan, but you knew what his impact was, the quality of his music, and the power he had. His whole presence made you nervous, but you weren't going to risk your job nor lose the professionalism. He ended up being there because the director invited him to look at the new collection that you direct boss had picked, but he wanted it to be private, he wanted to enjoy it, and that's how the both of you ended up there, sitting on the floor of the museum admiring the work behind the main art piece.

“Now I understand, why he wanted me to look at it in person” he said with a smile “it is magnific, it was worthy escaping from the studio for this”

“I know, art can free you, it's like the whole world shut down for a minute and you can breathe” you said, genuinely happy, because he was really calm and easy to talk to, so you weren't nervous anymore, it was a success.

“Indeed” he said looking at you, you felt the warm in your face because of the way he was looking at you, he stood up and helped you too “It has been a pleasure Y/N, meeting you and the collection, I think now I am supposed to take a photo” You got frozen en place, his voice was deep and raspy, it got you flustered, you came back to your senses

“Y-yes, you do, gimme a minute to look for the camera” You said moving quickly.

You took various photos of him, he looked great in every single one, Namjoon was a handsome man, and on top of that he was so humble and easy, maybe you expectatives where in the low as soon as you heard the world VIP or maybe Namjoon was just different, he made your heart move faster.

While you were tidying up he approached you with a question,

“Y/N would you like to take a photo with me?” it surprised you , but you did not have the ability to say no.

He pulled you close, you didn't know what to do, and he noticed, so he just told you to smile, you did so, but only god knows how you ended up looking in that picture. After that he said his farewell, and you could see his bodyguards getting closer than they were before.

It was such an experience it shaked your life for the next days, you could only think of him and his strong scents, it was so good, like a forest, as the freshness of the summer, Namjoon really did a number on you, you googled half of his life in those days, and started to listing to his music, it was really good, now you understood even more his fame. At the moment that you thought that you were forgetting the flustered feeling that he led on you, he posted it, he posted the photo that he took with you, you had a start sticker on your face, and his caption left you thinking about him even more,

art can free you, the whole world shut down for a minute and you can breathe

Did he post that because of you? Did he?

====================================

It was a normal thursday, you were in the subway on your way to work, thinking about the essay you had due this sunday, it was almost done, but you felt it was missing something, moonchild playing on your airpods. The day promised to be rainy, it always rained in seoul, but not in the sad depressing way it rained in London, Seoul’s rain was calm and nostalgic, sometimes it was full of rage. 

You didn't have much to do at work that day, the inauguration of the exposition was a success, you replied to the emails you had, sent some codes and updated the maintenance date of some artworks.

“Miss. Y/N, Mr. Park is asking to see you, if you could go to his office please” the voice caught you by surprise, it came from Mr. Shin, executive assistant of the museum director, the surprise was more in him coming directly to see you instead of sending you an email. Have something happened, did you mess up something…

You colleagues gave you strange and curious looks, it wasn't a normal situation, and their looks worked as a further confirmation. 

Walking through the administration hallways behind Mr. Shin, got you nervous, what could've gone wrong why are they calling you, are you fired? no, R.R.H.H would’ve called for that. Mr. Shin led you to the office door and retired, you could not bring yourself to knock at the door scared, but there was no other way of escaping it. You knocked on the door twice, until you heard a deep voice say, “Come in”

You opened the door using all your strength and calm “Good morning Mr. Park, how may I help-

You stopped on your word when you saw Namjoon sitting in the middle of the room, Mr. Park's office was big, two mauve sofas facing each other in front of the big brown desk, and Namjoon was seated in one of them looking at you with a smile.

“Hello ‘Y/N” his deep voice filling the room, “Please sit down’” he said signaling the sofa in front of him

You were frozen in your step, why was Namjoon there? you quickly got back to your senses, and greeted him sitting in front of him, you didn't know if the nervousness was visible, your hands were sweaty, while they rested on your knees.

“I know you got up here thinking you were going to see YoungJo, I am sorry for that, but I did not wanted to make a fuss, hope you understand” you nodded in comprehension, of course it was going to be worse if Kim Nam Joon came calling for you, it was already weird Mr. Park doing so.

“I'm going to be direct, would you like to work for me?” The shock was painted in your face “I want someone to curate some art pieces for my parents house, and for my house too, since our conversation last week, I feel that you would be perfect for it, we share the same art vision”

You couldn't say a word, he was waiting for your response, but since you stood there in silence he continue “Money is not the problem, nor is the time, please name your price and tell me when we can start working together”

“I-I, are you sure? wouldn't you like someone more professional for this? someone with more experience in the area” you muttered, still lacking the words.

“No” he said solemnly “I am not looking for experience or somebody with a name in this, I want you and your fresh views, I read your master thesis, and I know your working in your doctorate, as I said your vision is what I want, it amuse me”

“Can I think about it?” You said, but what was there to think.

“Of course” he said “Here look, this is my personal number, you can call me or add me to Kakao, and my agent number in case I don't respond, but it is unlikely” he handed you both of the cards, looking at your shocked face with a smile. “If someone asks, just tell them that YoungJo confused you with someone else, ok?”

You nodded, still feeling out of place, looking at his almond shaped eyes, he said goodbye and left, letting you there. You slowly stood up, and walked to your department, art acquisitions, as soon as you arrived your coworkers started whispering. You sat down keeping face, when you were about to start working, Anja, who seated next to you asked,

“Hey Y/N what was that about?” with curiosity flooding her face, you smile and said loud enough,

“It was nothing, looks like they were calling someone else and somehow they got to me” you said shrugging your shoulders, resting importance to it, with you saying that the whispering and the looks finished.

The rest of the day was normal, but you still could feel the nervousness in your gut, he read your thesis, and wanted you to help him curate art for his family house and his home, it feel surreal, to good to be truth, but if it was, the opportunity was amazing, Namjoon would become your first private client, the scholarship money was decent, and you pay wasn’t that bad, but you knew that whatever Namjoon would pay you would be enough to pay rent until you found a space in the campus dorms. You weren't sure yet, there wasn't a big reason to say no, but you felt insecure. What if your work does not live up to his expectations?

You arrived home putting those thoughts to rest, working on your assignments and studying your lectures, before you could realize it, it was already past midnight and you knew what you were going to say.

Hello Mr. Kim,

I would love to work with you, please let’s discuss terms and conditions.

Have a great day, “Y/N”

12:51 am

Looking at your phone screen maybe it was too short? but it didn't need any more it was concise, you hit sent, without realizing, that you did not programmed the text message to be sent at 9 in the morning, panicking looking at the screen, until those 3 hell looking dots started blinking,

Amazing, and yes I’ll have a great day ;)

knj

12:52 am

===========================================

And there you were the next day, in front of Namjoon’s workplace building, he asked you to come the next day to discuss the job requirements and pay, you set a 3PM meeting with him, going to the big doors of HYBE ent. you were nervous hand sweating approaching the reception, you'd feel the looks, but is not like you cared anymore, but maybe you should had hided your hair today, everyone at work was already use to it, but this was a new environment, the comfort of your usual places made you forget where you were.

“Hello good evening, I have a meeting” You say approaching one of the well groomed ladies in front of you, she looked you up and down, and say,

“Excuse you?” Your korean might not be the best, but it wasn't bad, now being here for almost 8 months it had clearly improved, you repeated yourself, and then she ‘understood’

“Ok, May I know the name of the person and their department please?” she said with a smirk in her face,

“I don't know his department, the name is Kim Nam Joon” she and the two ladies at her side looked at you like you were a rare species. 

“Are you sure of that?” She said with a shuckle, she wanted to laugh, it was clearly on her face.

“Yes I am sure, I wouldn't have come here if I wasn't” you said annoyed.

“Miss please, don't shame yourself in here, please go, or I'll be obligated to call security” the disgusted expression on her face saying everything you needed to know.

“Could you at least call him to verify?” keeping the last strand of politeness you asked.

“No. Please leave or I'll call security” she said standing up signaling the big crystal doors.

You were mad, not knowing what to do walking down to the doors, hearing his laughs and the looks of the people around, until of course your brain reacted, you were a smart girl after all,

Hello Mr. Kim I am already here

2:58 pm 

Ok, amazing please come to my studio they'll tell you the floor ;p

2:59 am

I am not being allowed, I went to the front desk and they asked me to go, should I?

3:00 pm

What? why? please dont leave, youre in the lobby right ill come to you

3:00 pm

You read the last text, still being mad but now you knew that namjoon actually wanted you there, you stood close to the door still with some of the looks in you, but they couldn't send you out, you haven't done anything and you could easily say you were going to the store. 5 minutes passed and you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket Namjoon was calling you.

“Hi Y/N? on what side are you?” his voice sounded agitated, as if he had run.

“Hello, yes, I’m close to the doors, I have a white cardigan and a brown plaid scarf” 

“I think I see you” and when he said that, you heard the commotion, there he was, his hair looking frizzy, like he had been passing his fingers through it. He had a pale green sweatshirt, a dark brown jacket and light brown trousers.

You heard the call finish, and he was getting closer to you, the people in the lobby were looking at him, and you were too but not with the same eyes. Namjoon looked so hot, he smiled at you, he was happy to see you and that calmed your heart.

“Hello Y/N, I thought you would leave” he said, extending his hand to you, you shaked hands with him.

“I almost did” you said, trying to conceal the discomfort in your voice.

“What happened, why couldn't you come in? it was just a call away” he said smiling to the people around you, you started walking with him and two bodyguards started walking at the sides.

“I explained that to the lady but she did not care to confirm that”

“Who?” the demanding tone clearly in his voice he stopped to look at you, his eyes waiting for an answer

“T-he lady with the ponytail” you mutter, namjoon’s eyes intimidate you.

“Is ok” he said, dragging you to the front desk, “Can I have a visitors pass for MY guest” he was clearly annoyed, and you were too, the face in the lady was priceless, she was between shock and disbelief, until she actually needed to talk,

“C-can I have some form of ID? " she asked, you opened your purse to take your passport, going directly to your work visa.

=========================================

Namjoon drove you to his studio, scanning his face on the door. The hallway to it was beautifully decorated with small and big art pieces, Namjoon really had a great taste, his studio was small but cozy, you could feel how he crafted every space himself, it screamed his whole personality. 

“Please sit down” he said and you did so “Before we begin I am obligated to made you sign a NDA, is just protocol” he said sitting in from of you handing you a folder

“Yes, I understand” you said, giving a quick read to the NDA, you signed because it was ok and handed it to him.

“Ok, perfect. Do you want something to drink? I’m making myself a coffee” he stood up waiting for your answer.

“Water would be fine”

“I don't like to beat around the bush Y/N, I want you to pick beautiful and meaningful pieces for me, I would do it myself” he brought a glass of water for you, while holding a cup of smoking coffee “But I am pretty busy right now and I like you, and your style. Your thesis in Seurat, was an enjoyable read, and I feel that your fresh vision would be perfect for what I want” He sat down in front of you taking a sip, you did the same, Namjoon made you nervous, his aura was intoxicating.

“I get it, still, I don't have a full experience curating, I might have the theory but I stick lack the practice” you said being honest

“I'm giving the practice to you, what about 15% for every piece you pick for me? " he said with a smile that made his dimples show up.

You smiled at him “What about 20%?” You smirked.

“25%, do we have a deal?” he put down his cup to look you directly in the eyes.

“W-we do.” you smiled at him nervously due to his gaze.

“You could've said 50% and I would have said yes. I just want you.” He said standing up, giving you his hand, his words made you lose your breath.

=======================

from delululand with love, kive <3

#bts fanfic #bts x you #namjoon imagine #namjoon x reader #namjoon #bts x reader #yoongi #bts fluff #smut bts #kiv3 #kim namjoon #kim namjoon icons #kim namjoon fluff #kim namjoon fic #fanfic #ao3 writer #fanfiction #bts #bts smut #bts army #bts icons

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Due to the cold weather, Reader snuggled up with Jason (bonus: if His mask was so cold that reader had to move away in the end.)

Buy something that is the same color as his beautiful blue eyes. I think he himself would be happy about this. In the end, he might secretly get something in return and leave a gift above the head of the bed.

Might be a little hot But I'd love to see Jason fidget as Reader sucks on his food-coated fingers. Because reader were tripped over her own feet and spilled food on Jason. (you like that don't you? something bad happend to reader's toes or feet)

reader wears a dog collar- (*cuagh* NO)

When reader said trick or treat, Jason placed his pistol in her basket. (He doesn't have any snacks.)

Gotham’s cold weather is just as bad as rainy seasons.

How Jason managed to stay warm in just a leather jacket over a padded suit was beyond your belief. Sometimes, even your blankets weren’t enough warmth once your walking furnace slipped out from under the covers.

After some puppy eyed begging, you hear a loud, exaggerated grunt erupt through his modulator before crawling back into bed, now a few pounds heavier with all his gear. Helmet included.

Said helmet was left on the desk, unconventionally close to your sealed, frosted window.

Piercingly cold, red metal pressed along your lower cheek when he attempted to return towards his cuddly position prior. Every bump on your skin rose as you hissed, tilting your head off towards the side.

“Cold, Jason,” your sleepy voice whined out in irritation.

“Mm, how’d you suddenly get so warm?” His teasing tone reveals his audible smile, clutching you closer like a doll to your irritating dismay. Pressing his helmet closer into the crook of your neck, you could only writhe uncontrollably until it warmed.

“Jasooon!” You squeal, his other arm slipping under your body, keeping you trapped in his temporary prison.

“You wanted this, Princess! I’m just doin’ what you asked for!”

- -

You’d be a fool if you said Jason didn’t enjoy books. You’d also be a fool if you didn’t think red wasn’t his favorite color.

He’d say it is, but you knew it was blue. Sometimes green.

Understandably, you knew if you had borrowed one of his favorite, well worn copies of Shakespeare, he’d definitely notice within the same day after you hid them in your closet.

So, for his birthday, you get him brand new books with an added twist.

After receiving his gifts from the rest of the family, putting on smiles and words of thanks, he opens his new copies of Hamlet, Pride and Prejudice, and Kings of war.

Freshly printed words on silver lined paper, on intricately designed, teal hardback covers. Each one personalized with his name in slick, silver lettering on the bottom.

His silence had never been met with a smile so big at the sight of them, the art of speech lost on the vigilante for a good few minutes as he traced the designs, brushing his thumb over his engraved name.

He’d keep an eye out for weeks for a thank you gift. Who gives presents as a thanks after getting a birthday gift?

Try arguing with him when you see an expensive jewelry store box sitting on top of your pillow two days later.

- -

Strawberry jelly on toast. It was as simple at that for you on some lazy Sunday mornings. That, and you needed to do shopping.

Last you recall was turning your body around, blunt spreading knife in hand to toss into the sink, only to be met with a wall of muscles that constructed your boyfriend.

You gasp, not only from the startle, but from pure panic when Jason’s hand clasps yours, preventing the dangerously dull butter knife from doing any damage.

“Open those eyes, sweetheart,” Jason jokes after shortly letting you go, putting the knife in the sink for you.

“Sorry,” you immediately say, feeling a bit bad regardless. It was a butter knife, something so flimsy and useless, besides smearing condiments.

“S’alright.” Jason’s head glanced off towards the various counters in the kitchen, his slightly raised hand displaying the smear of strawberry jam on his thumb.

He was moments away from shrugging off his search and simply licking it off, until he feels your hands grasp his wrist and palm, gaining his attention.

Without a single word said, your tongue brushes along the edge of his calloused thumb, collecting the sticky, overly sweet jam juice off his skin.

Jason nearly froze on the spot, his mind spiraling to imagine a response to say as the pink, little tip of your tongue peeled through your lips, repeating the action once more until you were satisfied.

“Were we.. outta napkins, babe?” He questions, shortly swallowing after forgetting all about his morning coffee.

“Ran out last night,” you reply, proceeding to lick a thin dot of jam on your own pointer finger, all while maintaining eye contact.

“I see.”

- -

Everyone agrees that Jason’s hand alone is more than substantial than any collar.

He proved his point shortly after forgetting about your strawberry toast.

- -

(Sorta dark humor joke)

“Did you just-“ you glance down at the gun inside the empty candy bowl.

It was a joke. You had an empty bowl, walked up to him with a teasing chime in your voice when you asked, and this is how Jason responds.

The weight of the weapon alone told you it obviously wasn’t fake.

Your deadpanned expression flicking in between the gun and him. He had an apple in his other hand, why pick the gun?

“How do I—… do I just shove it in my mouth—?”

“Huh? What—no!”

#Jason Todd #jason todd x female!reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #dc jason todd #jason todd x reader #you thought I was gonna make reader stub their toe #or twist their ankle #that’s for COD ONLY

[wasjustred]

Winter Weather Warning - NSFW Larissa Weems x f!Reader

Summary: A blizzard comes barreling through the area and you find yourself stranded———in Larissa’s quarters.

Pairing(s): Larissa Weems x femprof!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, smut – fingering and cunnilingus (reader receiving); Larissa gets an orgasm

Word Count: ~6.3k (oops)

Author’s Note: Whaaat? A fic? From me? Finally?? I hope this was worth the wait! Thanks to all you lovely folk who’ve been so patient with me; there’s been a lot going on in my life so I’m very appreciative of you all. Feedback, as always, is welcome and encouraged! ♡ ﹠. a special thank you to my beta readers @sapphicsbeloved and @zephyr-is-tired ——— sending you many kisses and finger waggles for your help! 😙🥰 ╱ AO3

You try not to begrudge the snow for falling when and where it will. It’s pretty, you have to admit: soft, and flurried, sweeping over the stone grounds of Nevermore without prejudice. You peer out from your window and watch scattered groups of students chase after each other gleefully, faces turned up toward the sky like small purple sunflowers in their school uniforms, arms outstretched and reaching. The low angle of the sun against the trees suggests dusk will fall soon, just enough light still to cast long, excitable shadows across the ground.

A smile prods at your lips as you turn away from the window and further into your classroom with the intention of setting up for your last class of the day. You’d originally planned to guide them through a review period for an exam next week, but with the state of the sky and the weekend finally here, you decide a film might instead be just what everyone needs; you can afford to push the exam back another day, and really, they’ll be gunning for extra time where they can get it anyway. You know your students well enough.

When the kids begin filing in, you delegate tasks without explanation, the room abuzz as you instruct one student to close the blinds and a few others to adjust the desks just so. You catch a glimpse of the world down below before the windows cover up: Steady flurries still, but nothing that worries you. The kids’ thrill at spending the period in relaxation when you reveal your plan to them is enough to distract from any further thoughts on the weather, anyhow.

The hour passes swiftly as you sit in the back grading papers, every so often glancing up to take stock of the room. Everyone files out just as fast at the sound of the bell and calls out wishes for a good weekend while you’re left to rearrange the room back into its original state. You take care of the desks first, pack your own items up, decide to leave the windows for Monday since it’s dark out by now, no longer any ribbons of light sneaking through the cracks where the blinds don’t quite meet glass. A nice bottle of wine, a fire, maybe a few candles and a good book… the night is promising, and you run through a mental checklist of how many comfort items and practices you can employ as you wander down to the front entrance, bundled up tightly in your coat to brave the cold.

But when you reach the landing of the long staircase, the sight that greets you is not promising in the slightest: the outer floodlights cast a muted glow over what had been a harmless shower of snow, now furious gusts of heavy flakes collecting faster than your brain can entertain. There has to be at least a couple inches out there already, and the realization that you’ll have to navigate through the winding, hilly roads of Vermont in the middle of this elicits a groan. The treeline is hardly visible amidst the dark and the snow, and the roads are likely no better off: the town tends to skirt right around Nevermore when salting the streets. This drive’ll be a perilous one at best.

“Absolutely not.” The sound of Larissa’s disapproval startles you into a sharp and over-dramatic gasp, every muscle of yours tensing at once when her voice comes from just behind you. 

“Jesus, you scared me! ‘Absolutely not’ what?” You turn to her with features marred by confusion - once the surprise has melted away - and tilt your head up, taking a small step back to balance yourself when you realize how close she is. She looms over you in a way only she can: regal and overwhelming–––yet cordial all the same, offset by the soft floralness of her perfume. The fact that she’d reached you there without a sound would likely be unsettling if it were anyone else. With her it’s just… attractive, the slyness of it all. The mischievous grin she bares in response to how you jump doesn’t help.

“There is absolutely no chance I’m letting you drive in that.” This elicits an incredulous scoff as you peer up at her, arms lifting at your sides like a pair of very exasperated, very amused wings.

“Letting me? What am I supposed to do? Break my back sleeping on the floor of the library? No thanks.”

“Don’t be silly,” Larissa tsks, pressing her lips together in an all too familiar demonstration of thought. She’s quick with her next words, though, and something tells you there wasn’t much thought to be given at all. “You’ll stay with me.”

The firmness with which she says this, the matter-of-fact tone that has always so easily slid off her tongue, leaves no room for discussion. You gape at her but Larissa’s already swiveling on her heel and walking in the direction of her office as though it’s been decided once and for all, no questions asked. She throws a crooked finger over her shoulder and gestures for you to follow, the sound of her heels now echoing through the mostly-empty halls.

You wonder, frivolously, how in the hell you didn’t hear her the first time around.

You rush after her with quick steps in an effort to keep up; Larissa’s long, unhesitating strides carry her farther and faster than you can move without some effort. The view of her backside, however, is not one that merits complaint. You follow the curve of it up until you come upon a landing you’re not familiar with, nearly knocking into Larissa when she halts abruptly and turns towards you for the first time since this little journey began. She looks almost unsure of herself now, eyes flitting about rather than meeting yours. It’s one thing, you know, to flirt in passing; to brush arms when you’re both chaperoning students in Jericho; to trade amused, knowing glances across faculty meetings. But it’s another to invite you into her sanctuary, a decisive and loaded crossing of one of the last lines between the two of you.

“If you’d prefer, I believe there’s an empty dorm room I can have made up for you. It’d be no problem.” She finally looks down at you long enough for you to read what’s going on behind that mask of hers, typically pristine and perhaps a touch righteous: she’s trying to give you an out, trying to relinquish control for a second before she commandeers your night, and she’s worried she’s already gone too far by bringing you up here in the first place.

But you’re not going to say no to a night at Larissa’s side, especially when the potential for a warm fire and a glass of wine or two is so high.

Especially when it’s her asking.

“No, it’s alright. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

“Not at all,” she’s quick to blurt out, shaking her head. “I simply wanted to make sure you knew you had the option, that’s all.”

With that, Larissa turns again and begins the ascent to what you assume is her hall–––until you’ve reached another landing with only one door, and she pushes it open to reveal an entire apartment all her own. It’s very her, this place: Warm, shining, elegant. The living room is awash with low, simmering lights, furnished with a mix of dark leather and velour, a towering bookcase taking up the whole of one of the far walls with an accompanying reading nook. She walks you further into the threshold and eases the door closed behind you, hovering silently as you take the space in. There are a few framed art pieces that you promise yourself you’ll review more thoroughly later on, scattered vases of flowers and various, high-hanging mirrors.

What truly draws your attention, however, are the photos strategically lining the walls, clearly taken at various points in Larissa’s life: A small platinum-blonde girl carefully posed before a Christmas tree with two very proper looking hounds on either side of her, all very regal and staged except for the wide, nose-crinkling grin on the girl’s face; a beach trip with the same girl, slightly older now, arm thrown over her face as she squints against the sun and into the camera - and a pair of kids that look to be around her age chase each other in the background; teenage Larissa suited up and on horseback, smiling proudly as a judge strings a blue ribbon around the horse’s halter; graduation photos from Nevermore; a trip to the Scottish Highlands, it looks like, a twenty-something Larissa soaked to the bone but grinning out at the miles and miles of luscious greens like she couldn’t be bothered less by the weather. It’s the most you’ve ever seen of her.

Eventually Larissa brushes behind you, laying a hand at your waist in passing as she toes off her heels and begins the process of lighting the fireplace.

Her touch leaves an emphatic tingle in its wake.

“I didn’t think my wall was that particularly exciting,” she muses, glancing over her shoulder at you. You duck your head and turn from the wall, following her lead as you slip out of your shoes and place them next to her own.

“I always like to see what people were like before I knew them. It’s intimate.” Larissa’s gaze softens almost imperceptibly before she returns her attention to the fire, adjusting the logs one last time and replacing the latch on the brass screen.

“What do they tell you, those pictures?” She wipes her hands and comes to rest against the edge of a couch, gazing at you as you shift on your feet and consider her question. Her eyes remain soft, but there’s something else lurking there behind the blue now: Curiosity? Interest? Desire, even? You can’t read it for sure, so you clear your throat and move back to the photographs on her wall, crossing your arms over yourself.

“Well, .. this one,” you start, gesturing towards the Christmas tree, “screams rich.” Larissa snorts loudly and tilts her head in a way that says you’re not wrong. “Probably an only child - at least at the time, otherwise there’d be other kids with you.” Her smile gives nothing away this time, but you charge ahead, brushing your fingers against the frame that holds the beach between its borders.

“This isn’t an American beach, that much I know.” You choose not to elaborate, allowing your ‘Americanness’ to speak for itself. “But I can’t tell if you grew up going there or if it was a special vacation, maybe visiting family… ?” you trail off as your gaze drifts over to her questioningly. She just shrugs, and you click your teeth in mock disapproval before moving on.

“You look happy here,” you observe, allowing your hand to drift over the photo of Larissa in her English riding gear. “Unforced. You enjoyed competing, maybe preferred your horse to people.” This one might be an unfair deduction, supplemented by your understanding of how cruel kids can be–––especially to an outcast, especially to a 6’3” girl.

“The Duke,” Larissa pitches in, pushing up off the couch’s back to join just behind your shoulder, gazing over at the photo in question. “My mother hated the name, but I insisted. He was a gift for my fifteenth birthday,” she reminisces, breath coursing over the tip of your ear. You peer up at her as she smiles, something sad and regretful there before she sucks in a deep breath and points out a new photo to you, more recent by the looks of it: Larissa stands with a large group of students in their Nevermore uniforms, mid-laugh as one of the kids waves his hands wildly and another has their mouth agape in what looks to be protest. Her eyes are crinkled - genuine - and one of her hands seems to be in the process of making its way up to cover her mouth, the other mindlessly resting at her midsection. You know that laugh. It’s her most uninhibited, her most authentic, which only comes out when she’s caught completely off-guard. Your favorite, if you’re honest.

“My first class of students as principal of Nevermore,” Larissa offers, scrunching her nose happily at the memory.

“What’d he say? That student?” You’re part genuine curiosity and part selfishness: eager to know what made her laugh like that, and how you can take hold of that kid’s humor and use it for yourself, elicit a look like that, a laugh like that, which so rarely comes about during school hours.

“I wish I could remember,” she murmurs, taking one last look before clasping her hands together and shocking you out of the reverie. “But nevermind all that. Have you eaten dinner yet?”

You nod sheepishly, nearly apologetic knowing she likely hasn’t and is looking to be a good hostess. But she merely nods, looking relieved: “Oh good, I can’t be bothered to cook tonight,” Larissa admits, a teasing grin stretching from ear to ear. 

“Let me show you where everything is, then.” She guides you down the hall and nudges one of the doors open, gesturing with an open palm. “Here’s the bathroom. Extra amenities are in the second drawer there, towels in the closet.” The suite is nicer than any bathroom you’ve ever had, really the stuff of luxury hotels: white marble floors, a deep soaking tub, gold knobs and handles on almost every appliance. You’ve no choice but to forcefully shoo away the startling, indecent imaginings that break through your reserves of Larissa sinking deep into the lush bubbles of the tub, skin glistening, chest bare––––

“Heated floors, too. I never go cold in the winters.” Ever humble, Larissa pulls at your shoulder gently and switches the light off, directing you to another door just diagonal of the bathroom. When she swings the door open, you’re embarrassingly aware of the way your jaw drops.

“Bedroom’s this way,” she says, stepping into the space. It’s gorgeous, swooping drapes of dark ruby and gold, satin bedding that pools over the mattress and onto the floor, puddles of fabric against a thick persian rug. There’s another fireplace opposite the bed, an area farther off with another scaling bookcase and two large, well-worn armchairs, a small number of intricately designed table and floor lamps, a matching vanity and armoire, the former of which is careful, lived-in chaos with its scattered tubes of lipstick and skin care tinctures.

It’s Larissa.

“Wow,” you breathe, meeting her amused gaze. “You never mentioned you live like this. I would’ve taken you up on a sleepover much sooner if I’d known.” Larissa flushes and coughs out a coy laugh, smoothing a hand over her hair as she looks out across the room.

“Yes, well. You’re here now.” She reaches out and lifts your handbag from you, pulling at your coat lapel next to signal you should take it off. Once you do, Larissa hangs it along one of the walls and places your bag on her vanity. Busy work. “I have clothes you can borrow of course, though they may be a bit big. I’ll set them out, although,” she pauses, glancing at her bedside clock, “it’s early still… Up for a movie? Glass of wine?”

You’re almost - almost - embarrassed by the unrestrained nodding of your head, but hell, it’s been a long week, and relaxing with a bottle of wine sounds like the perfect reward for making it through without breaking down [in front of your students]. The fact that it’s Larissa’s personal wine, in her personal quarters, in her personal hands does nothing to lessen the appeal.

The question of where Larissa will sleep, if showing you the bedroom was her way of offering it to you, hangs in your head, but you decide the answer can wait until the time for sleep comes around. By no means are you going to allow Larissa to banish herself to the couch in her own home. You’d sooner take the floor–––even if you’d jokingly complained about that very same concept earlier in the hour.

“Do you have a preferred genre?” She asks as you both return to the living room, you perching on the sofa as she disappears into what you assume is the kitchen to fetch the wine. It’s not normally a loaded question, nor one worth considering too deeply, but you realize you have an opportunity here… and if Larissa’s occasional blushes, her soft gaze, mean what you hope they do, perhaps there’s a strategy to be employed. You shift further into the cushions, absentmindedly running a hand over your clavicle in thought.

“Don’t laugh… but I’m a sucker for romance when the weather’s like this,” you call out. Larissa peeks her head out from around the corner, brows furrowed in funny disbelief.

“Really?”

“Wha–– why is that so hard to believe?!”

“It’s not, I just.. wasn’t expecting it, I suppose. You seem more of the action or thriller type.” She shrugs and disappears again without further explanation, leaving you to half-pout half-ponder at her words. Before you can make an argument in your defense, however, she’s returning with two full glasses, bottle tucked under her arm, and dimming the lights, a practiced look of concentration slanted across her features as she makes her way over to the couch and lowers one of the glasses into your waiting hand. The red sloshes up just near the edge when Larissa hands it off, and you half-jokingly prod at her as your brows shoot up in amusement.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Principal Weems?” She tuts with faux indignation, but the growing flush of her cheeks betrays her.

“I wouldn’t dare.” She settles next to you - still a respectable distance for colleagues, but closer than mere acquaintances - and places the uncorked bottle on the table ahead of you, grinning.

“Romance it is, but I pick.” You ‘d be surprised by her demand if you didn’t know Larissa’s need to be in control at all times. In fact, if anything surprises you, it’s her calmness in the face of this turbulent weather–––perhaps the most uncontrollable variable there is. Even the most headstrong people can be manipulated, but not the sky.

The film she chooses isn’t one you’ve seen before, which excites you, and you both sink into the couch with a comfortable silence. You share little notes back and forth on the revolving plots and chuckle at the occasional joke, however cliché, as the movie rolls, finding an easy rhythm you’ve never before been able to appreciate amidst the chaos of classes and faculty meetings. 

It’s about an hour in, having finished your first glass and poured another for yourself and Larissa, that you make the mistake of peering over at her from the corner of your eye. A particularly sappy scene is playing out before you. The TV’s light flickers softly against her face, which is content and dare you say tender as the two protagonists share a moment together. The stumble before the fall. Her forehead creases and you have the sudden urge to kiss the lines away, warmed by the wine and her beauty.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispers hoarsely, though her eyes never leave the screen. 

Your heart jolts when she catches you out, running hot with guilt. Your legs shift beneath you as you move to scoot a few inches away - to give her space from your leering gaze - but you freeze when you feel her hand on your knee, holding you in place. You watch her for any sign that’ll tell you what’s going through her head but she doesn’t budge further, only loosening her hold on you a fraction when you relax against the cushions again. Your heart is beating hard at the door of your ribs as you tilt your head back towards the movie, far too distracted to actually process anything that’s happening. The air is so thick now your lungs can hardly keep up; it’s a dizzying thing, electric, and your thoughts jumble haphazardly as you wonder whether or not Larissa’s feeling it, too.

You risk a peek at her again–––but Larissa is already looking at you. 

Her chest is heaving, albeit subtly, and her eyes are dark. A steep wave of arousal pulses through you when her tongue slips out along her upper lip, her gaze flicking down to your mouth and back up again: a question. The second you nod her mouth is on yours, both of you sighing into the touch. You cup the back of her neck, pulling her closer still as your other hand fists around the fabric of her dress. An insistent tug at your waist brings one of your legs between her own, hips rolling against each other as she gropes at you mindlessly, squeezing the thigh slotted over her heat.

“Is this okay?” she asks breathlessly, dragging your bottom lip between her teeth before she pulls away to look at you. Her cheeks are flushed a heavy pink and her lipstick is smudged. You giggle at the realization that there must be bright crimson streaks along your chin and lips.

“Yes,” you assure her between steadying pants, stroking a hand from her shoulder to her wrist and entwining your fingers, giving them a gentle pinch. “You alright?”

A smile briefly turns her lips, soft and loose. “Very much so.”

The next few moments are sweeter, slower as you take your time savoring her taste, tracing the swell of her lips, the delicate scar at the top there, following the line of her jaw up into her hair with your fingertips. She presses into you as gentle as ever, drawing shivers up to the surface of your skin as her hand snakes up the length of your spine. Barely there still is the sound of the fire lingering in its box and the distinct roar of wintry gusts at the window, mere suggestions at the back of your brain. The wine’s been long forgotten on the table.

You shudder when Larissa’s fingers tease at the lower hem of your blouse and brush against a bare sliver of skin, resting there before you arch into her and take hold of her wrist, guiding her hand higher. Her lips quirk to one side at your earnestness, especially as she reaches the clasp of your bra. She hesitates again, more teasing than searching, and slides her tongue into your willing mouth, exhaling sharply when you meet her move for move. Nimble fingers unclasp the bra without issue before they drift around to your front, putting distance between your bodies as Larissa palms your breasts, takes a nipple between her fingertips and pulls and twists with wicked dexterity.

A whimper escapes you when she sinks her teeth into your lip for a second time, much harsher this go around before she suddenly parts from you and begins pressing open-mouth kisses along your jaw and down your neck, nipping and soothing in time with the hapless rocking of your hips. She adjusts to unbutton your top, never once pausing in her assault on your neck as she does so.

“Wait,” you pant out suddenly, and all at once her body leaves you, drawing back to give you space. The look on Larissa’s face is a concerned one, but gentle still, and you know she’ll follow where you need. It’s everything you can do not to keep her waiting in exchange for the chance to look at her, swollen lips and mussed hair, dress askew. 

She’s never been more beautiful to you. 

“Take me to bed.”

Her concern is washed away and replaced with relief - and then more prominent, want.

Larissa rises up from the couch and reaches a hand out to you, catching you off-guard when instead of walking you to the bedroom once you stand, she bends at the knee and scoops you up, your legs coming to wrap around her waist as you laugh in surprise.

“Who am I to say no,” she teases, placing a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips before making the careful trek over to the bedroom.

The question of where she’ll sleep is hardly that anymore. 

You’re both already naked and rocking against each other beneath her blankets when the power goes out. Neither of you truly take notice until the temperature in the room’s significantly plummeted.

“Oh–––one moment, darling.” You push yourself up on your elbows and whine as Larissa slips out of bed, hissing against the cold. Goosebumps raise along her skin, the peaks of her nipples hardening further as she rushes to kneel before the fireplace, sparking a flame in record time. Her skin nearly glows in the moonlight that trickles in from the windows, reflective amidst the snow. She looks like a ghost before you - ethereal, hauntingly so - and you tilt your head, gaze tracking from the deep slope of her calves to the fine curve of her ass, the faint divots of her spine, the wisps of hair that have come loose from their hold and fallen to her shoulders.

“You’re staring,” Larissa chides as she slides back under the covers, shivering.

“I’m admiring,” you correct lamely, a pitiful pout coming to rest upon your lips as you open your arms and draw her closer to warm her now-frigid skin. She hums as if to say ‘yeah, okay,’ burrows into you and drapes an arm across your middle as she pushes her leg between yours. Your hips instinctively buck when her thigh slides against the wetness of your cunt, and you’re both abruptly reminded of what had you so distracted in the first place.

Larissa tentatively nods towards you again and runs the tip of her tongue along your pulse point, your hips beginning to rock together once more, panting heavily and in unison while the storm surges on outside, unabated. The heat pooling in your stomach is in stark contrast to the drifting chill in the room, rearing a confused, overwhelming sensation of hot-cold along your skin. Larissa’s breath, warm on your neck, only further urges the feeling along until you feel as though you might snap if she doesn’t take you fully.

“Please,” you whimper, dragging your nails up over her back with little reserve. Larissa nips at your chin and yanks your leg further across her, taut against your clit.

“Please what?” Her voice is raked over with a carnal desire the likes of which you’ve never seen on her before, deep and airy. It only serves to pull the coil tighter. Your breath hitches as she pushes herself up on her hands and knees, hovering over you now, and she leans down, down until her face is level with yours, an intense wave of adoration flooding through you as she caresses one of your cheeks. She whispers, “I want you to beg, sweetheart,” and it’s all over, never a chance, the air all but torn from you, slick heat gone straight to your cunt.

Beg for her. Beg for Her. No matter how many times the thought bounces around within that empty little head of yours, you’re frozen in place both by lust and surprise. You’ve had your share of fun, of course, but the type that usually involves you calling the shots, taking charge. You thought you liked it that way.

You might’ve been wrong.

You’re only finally jostled from your thoughts when Larissa pulls back and draws a brow up at your silence. A shadow of concern passes over her face but you’re quick to pull her back in, nodding.

“Please fuck me,” you all but whisper, desperate to be filled, to be warmed, to be taken care of while the elements ravage the earth beyond these four walls. Larissa grins smugly at your feebleness, pressing her full weight upon you before she winds a hand down between your bodies, cupping your slickness in her palm. You’re dripping all over yourself, you know: a cool, nearly chafing wetness coating the inside of your thighs, so easily spread when Larissa dips her fingers in between your folds. She sinks a single digit into you just halfway, draws it out, sinks in again and curls it against that soft spot, yes, right there––

She easily adds another and hums at the way your body translates its own neediness, busying her mouth with the soft line of your jaw.

“You feel so good..” she murmurs as her fingers bury themselves into you knuckle-deep, so long and soft and better than you’d ever imagined (and you’d certainly spent time imagining it). Her hips press into yours from above, throwing weight behind her hand as she rolls against you, a slow and steady fucking that excites the fire already roaring within you. You gaze up at her in awe as her eyelids flutter in time with the movement of her hips, realizing she’s found just the right friction against the back of her own hand that each time she thrusts into you, a firm, rippling pressure rubs up against her own clit.

Your hands search frantically now until they’re planted at the slope of Larissa’s waist and you watch, carefully, as you pull her harder into each drive of her hips, rejoicing when she gasps and shudders into the pattern, breaking it for a fraction of a second before driving into you with a far greater desperation.

“Oohf, yes, th-that’s it, darling,” she pants out before capturing your lips in a sloppy, bruising kiss. Suddenly your own orgasm is incidental as you revel in the picture of her coming undone above you, chest flushed, cheeks pink, her hair falling further from its updo as she works her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Look at me, I want to see you,” you clamor with a novel burst of confidence, hands drifting up from her waist to cup her face in your palms. You want to look her in the eye when she cums. You want the memory of her sounds, her face, so deeply imbedded in your mind that it’ll keep you warm when you’ve returned to your own quarters. You want, you want, you want, and she whimpers - a heavenly sound - and obliges, gaze unfocused for a moment before she looks down at you, tongue darting out as she attempts to maintain some degree of focus.

“Right there, right there.. I can feel how close you are,” you huffily encourage, shifting so that both of your legs wrap tight around her and wrench her deeper, harder into you, smiling when her breath hitches at the change of pace and pressure against her sex. You watch her closely, in awe: Larissa’s brows are furrowed, her mouth fallen open and the pink of her tongue closely matched to that of her cheeks, the slight swell of her tits lurching which each thrust. The knowledge that each plunge into your cunt brings her closer is surreal––that she’s so obviously getting off on fucking you, that the frantic snap of her hips is building both of you up, simultaneously.

Her hips begin to stutter into you, airy whimpers falling from her as she teeters on the edge, fingers curling haphazardly in an attempt to continue fucking you through the oncoming rush of her orgasm. The mattress rocks and dips momentarily as Larissa gasps, sharp, and suddenly bows over you with the force of her climax, breath hot on your neck, forehead pressed into your temple, chest heaving against yours as she mindlessly ruts. Her fingers remain buried in your heat, pulsing slowly in time with her come-down. 

Larissa’s body shudders as you run your palm over her in light, gentle sweeps, one hand carefully traveling to cup the back of her neck.

“You’re alright.. I know.. ‘s good, hm?” You feel a weak nod at your side, Larissa eventually stilling atop you. The pad of her thumb draws slow, lazy circles around your clit as her breathing slows, nosing the crook between your shoulder and neck. 

“Christ,” she mumbles against your skin, and you chuckle as her lips draw a line from your ear to your chin.

“Yeah?” She hums and - slowly, determined - begins to wriggle down your body until her face is level with your cunt, glancing up at you with a blissed-out smirk before she presses an open-mouthed kiss to your slickness. The wet warmth of her tongue slides easily against you, dipping between your folds, lapping up the puddle that’s collected at your center, working in tandem with the pressure of her thumb at your clit, a feeling dumbly akin to religious devotion: a reverent prayer at your sex, holy flames licking up the walls of her bedroom, the weighted creases of her sheets stretched where she kneels before you.

A strong gust of wind wracks the shutters of her windows. They bang haphazardly against the glass, knocking in time with the surges of the storm.

Your fingers clench around the bed covers as Larissa rolls over your entrance once more, teasing, then pushing into your dripping hole with an embarrassing ease. She fucks you slow and as deep as she’s able, fingernails digging into the flesh of your hips. Not even the devil themself could stop you from rolling your pussy against her face in search of some greater friction, whining as the sounds of her tongue wading through your arousal mixes with the crackling of the fireplace, the moan of the storm outside.

“Ohfuckyes,” you pant as your legs spread further on their own accord, knees drawing up to alter the angle at which your pleasure floods through you. She moves with delicious ability, and you watch the stark blondeness of her hair bob with every fervent lap of her tongue, overwhelmed with the sudden realness of the moment: Larissa’s scent on the pillows, her lipstick smudged across your lips, her sweat on your skin. Her thumb abandons your clit, and a desperate cry waits at the threshold of your mouth until her finger is replaced with the pointed flicking of her tongue, quick and full and firm against you. The coil pulls tight within your core.

She murmurs something brusque but you’re too consumed with the sensation of her fingertips at your inner thigh to process, but she repeats herself as you release a heavy sigh, her fingers sinking deep into your cunt.

“That’s a good girl..." Your back arches at the same time Larissa takes your clit into her mouth, sucking and slurping as if to drink from that little bundle of nerves drawn straight to your core, as if to quench an otherworldly thirst. She pulls your orgasm from you quick and unforgivingly, never stumbling in her ministrations when your thighs begin to close in around her, or when your hands wind into her hair and pull, hard. She continues to devour you as if she doesn’t notice the snapping of that coil, the sounds that melt into the satiny sheets of her bed as you cry out for her–––the curling into yourself as your clit throbs towards unbearable tenderness.

“Fff––please, please, I’m––” Sapphire eyes bore into yours as her lips stretch into a devious smile, slowly but surely unlatching. A mercy, if you’ve ever seen one. You tremble in relief.

“You can’t take it?” she coos, superficial concern floating by your quivering sex. You don’t know whether to pull her closer or push her away when Larissa glances down towards your soaking cunt again––––

but the choice is made for you when she draws herself up and grabs hold of your chin, pushing her tongue into the waiting cavern of your mouth. The sure expanse of her thigh slides between your legs as she does so, eliciting a startled twitch as she brushes against your clit. She swallows your gasp.

“So sweet.” Larissa nips at your chin, presses her thigh against you more firmly and rubs her thumb back and forth along your cheek. Your hips buck of their own volition, acting solely on the most primal of instincts despite the sensitive twinge between your legs. There’s only Larissa’s softness, her warmth, her gentle affection circling your head, coloring the air around you. The world’s ending outside and it’s just her.

“Please kiss me,” you whisper, suddenly overcome with the need to absorb her, to touch her anywhere and everywhere all at once as if you could meld together somehow amidst the tousled satin.

She stills, hovering over you with a smile so soft you’re almost certain this has all been a very long, very desperate webbing of dreams until she obliges, brushing her lips against yours with the utmost of care.

“Are you alright?” Her voice is hushed, eyes searching.

“Better than alright,” you assure her, brushing a stray hair from in front of her face. “Kind of just wanted to be close to you…” You shrug sheepishly and turn your attention to the far wall, suddenly very interested in the twisting shadows of trees cast against the space there. The abrupt rush of vulnerability reddens your cheeks, lips pursing as the regret at such an intimate admission prickles up with equal swiftness. It’s quickly brushed away, however, when Larissa clicks her tongue and tilts your face towards her with a palm against your cheek, brow arched amusedly.

“Then be close,” she says, pressing a small kiss to the tip of your nose before she pulls you flush against her and buries her face into your neck. The fire’s dwindling, informed by the dying light of the room, the falling temperature beyond the bed, but neither of you notice as you wrap yourselves up in the arms of the other, tending to a warmth all your own.

#i’ve been super stressed trying to live up to ‘easy does it’ tbh so i hope this is at least decent 😅 #don’t think i’ll ever beat the sugar mommy fic lol #ah well! #i love exploring/constructing the parts of larissa we never saw (like her childhood) ﹠. i hope you guys do too! #my girl’s def a rider #i’ll stand by that till the day i die #accompanied by expensive ​purebred well-trained dogs throughout childhood #but is more of a cat person now – relaxed and easy #guilty pleasure romcom is ‘the proposal’ #and not just bc that’s also MY guilty pleasure romcom 😇 #n e ways hope you all enjoy :) #lmk your thoughts! 🫶🏼 #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x female reader #larissa weems x f!reader #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x you #larissa weems imagine #larissa weems reader insert #larissa weems smut #principal weems x reader #principal weems imagine #wasjustred

[melonsharks]

Tell us everything about the parent trap au immediately please please please

to give u an insanely quick rundown with a wip art i have:

aziraphale as elizabeth. wedding dress designer under his pen name A.Z. Fell. (hes an artist as confirmed in s2 and the whole "drawing on napkins" thing elizabeth would do appeals to me immensely)

crowley as nick. owns a vineyard. I NEED HIM TO OWN A VINEYARD SO BAD. shoutout to Old Vines on ao3 for changing me in a fundamental way. he makes wines and he tends to the vines and he is so passionate about it to an abusurdist degree. he yells at his vines when they arent growing right. you already knowwww.

when they meet for the first time, they don’t meet on a boat like in the movie, they actually meet at a wedding party :J crowley was a wine collector, just starting out. he loved offering aziraphale samplings of his most vintage collection out of impulse. (he likes seeing the way aziraphale savors them) (he’s besotted) Wants to own his own vineyard one day. aziraphale, on the other hand, has dreams of becoming a fashion designer of sorts, always drawing ideas on any scraps of paper he can find. his designs are very old fashioned, but thats like… part of the appeal. his work very much reflects who he is, and the people who flock to it understand that.

they enter this kind of… whirlwind relationship, they get married, and then eventually adopt two golden haired blue eyed baby boys. twins. :J warlock and adam.

they break things off because aziraphale leaves... alluding to their recent breakup in season two, the reason he left was because "we both clearly had very different ideas on where our lives were going. so. i packed up and left." (parallel s2 divorce 😋 they don’t know how to talk to each other) (aziraphale throws a book at his head after this argument, like the hairdryer in the movie LOL. it was pride and prejudice. crowley still has it.)

aziraphale leaves with adam. warlock is left with crowley. crowley eventually leaves London because he finds he cant stand being anywhere near Aziraphale (hes just irresistible in that way), and he goes to California where he finally fulfills his dream of owning a vineyard. a nice one on Napa, Northern California.

Aziraphale’s wedding dresses become more and more well known, Adam grows well-adjusted. Same kid you know from the show and book, natural born leader, a good head on his shoulders. (Aziraphale has no idea why Adam is like that, but he is so proud)

Crowley’s vineyard (The Garden Of Eden) grows and grows… Warlock is spoiled rotten, but he does love actually working at the vineyard with Crowley to and he and Crowley have a really good relationship…

Eventually the kids go to a summer camp together in London (i dont know if they . do this in the UK, but suspend your disbelief if you will) Adam meets The Them there, then meets Warlock after a nutty fencing thing, they kind of hate each other at first and the rest is history :J

side characters UM. LOL. idk……. i mean i kind of know but not really? theres just so many possibilities that make the rounds in my head. chessy could be anathema OR nina (ive had people suggest eric too?) and martin could be newt OR maggie (ive also had people suggest muriel????) gestures vaguely.

as for meredith…….erm…………🤷‍♂️ ive had everything under the sun suggested to me and i still……have no idea. LOL. gabriel, lucifer, shaX, FURFUR, THE WIFE FROM THE NON-SPOILER SPOILERS. I DONT KNOW. IT ALL FEELS WRONG. its hard to come up with this role in particular when these gay bitches literally only have eyes for each other. always. forever. u know. i think lucy is like. the classic answer. but idfk.

ask me about . more things if u want. this is consuming my every thought.

anyways the cover im working on for. for something:

#good omens #good omens 2 #gomens #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #adam young #warlock dowling #parent trap au #asks #paradox-progressing #i said insanwly quick but this is so fucking long. im sorry

[maryrouille]

Toxic romanticization of studying

In a word of introduction, my profile partly shows that studying and exploring is wonderful. But as a person involved in science*, I would like to show healthy and true patterns of this beautiful adventure in acquiring knowledge.

The inspiration for writing this post this time was not the phenomenon from Tumblr (although you can also observe it here), but from Pinterest. There you can come across cycles composed of quotes and photos whose aim is to motivate young girls to learn, succeed and get good grades. These images often also show examples of characters from movies, TV series or real life that you can aspire to be like. Overall, I have to agree that it really works! But I would like to draw attention to certain elements that need to be verified.

1. You shouldn't get up at 5am

First of all, the correct amount of sleep is one of the most important factors affecting the proper and effective functioning of our brain. During sleep, nerve cells regenerate, organize information acquired during the day and consolidate memory traces, which is directly related to learning. Lack of sleep increases impulsivity, deepens negative thinking and slows down the body's reaction time!

2. You can be a genius without good grades

Of course, good grades are a pleasant confirmation of our knowledge and praise for hard work. However, sometimes it is worth considering whether the structure of exams themselves, especially those with closed questions, affects the results. We often study for one specific exam, the knowledge of which may be very… limited and sometimes not useful, so it is worth prioritizing the topics that we study hard.

3. It's not cool to think you're better than others

We are different and have different priorities in life. It is also worth considering how many people escape from the rat race and start a slow, stress-free life. So we have to agree that judging people based on grades or responses under stress (sic!) is not cool.

The good thing about romanticizing studying

As I have already said, these types of collages are really motivating. So let's talk about what's great about them and what's worth highlighting and saving for later.

1. Knowledge is beautiful, but your outfit and surroundings can also be

We know that we should never judge a book by its cover, but… the issue of social perception painfully confirms that we do and will continue to do so because this is how our brains work. And isn't it nice when someone looks at us and thinks this girl is so classy?

Moreover, a nice outfit that makes us feel good gives us a lot of self-confidence. There are also many studies confirming the positive impact on motivation and concentration of a neat and aesthetic workplace.

2. Not just cramming, but also discovering

Broadening your horizons is easier with passion and real commitment. And to achieve this, the topics must really interest us. Not everyone has yet found something that they are extremely passionate about in science, so that is why you have to dig deeper and discover different areas.

3. Don't be afraid to use your knowledge in practice

Schools and universities, unfortunately, have their own rules and they do not always allow you to show your 100% potential. Thus, share your knowledge with others externally, write essays, blog and social media. This form of activity also makes you learn things faster and easier. In addition, contacts with others will expand your knowledge.

Therefore, I must say that it is worth choosing your inspirations carefully. Nothing helps you enjoy studying better than a clear head and lack of prejudices.

*This post was inspired by my own experience with studying. If anyone is interested, I think I can share my mistakes that did not help me in an academic adventure :)

#study aesthetic #healthy studying #study motivation #studyblr #dark academia #light academia #studyspo #study inspiration #study inspo #study blog #studying #productivitytips #studyblr community

[natspookie]

book worm

warnings, …stalker nat? LOL

an, kinda bad but i had the idea??? also, i’m working with the reqs soon!!!

it was rare natasha had time to go out for leisure, more so, to shop. but here she was, natasha romanoff shopping at thrift shops and markets.

this one road in new york was slammed with sellers and all sorts of things to buy.

natasha had bought a few vests she thought yelena would like, also some for her to match. she’d bought little trinkets to fill her room up. she had been dragging her shopping bags for about two hours when she reached the end of the market, a book stall.

hundreds of books were stacker on top of each other but the one of top caught natasha’s eye.

pride and prejudice

in the red room, sure natasha had read books. well.. books how to seduce men, and basic knowledge. but never for her own enjoyment.

she picked the book up, flipped through its pages seeing annotations here and there but she didn’t mind, handing the shop owner a couple of dollars before she made her journey back to the compound.

it was a quiet weekend at the avengers compound, not much missions. “hey nat! ohhh, what did you get?” wanda immediately eyed the eco bags on natasha’s wrist.

“just saw like a flea market or some thrifting- i don’t know honestly.” “the one near that shawarma shop we go to?” “precisely. i also got you this lamp, you said you broke yours”

natasha handed wanda a clear pink tinted lamp with crystals hanging from the top. “oh nat i love it! thank you!” wanda jumped across the couch and hugged natasha “no problem, witchy” natasha laughed, making her way to her room.

she took a quick shower before unloading all the things she got on her carpet. she put all of yelena’s things in one bag and started to put her things in her laundry bin.

when everything was sorted, she picked up the book and sat on her bed.

it was a book with good condition considering she paid 2 dollars for it. she got her reading glasses out and started to flip through the pages, immediately seeing clean and beautiful cursive black writing.

on the cover page it says, “01/01/2023 my love, i have my whole heart to give to you and it starts by the pages of this book. with little annotations, i hope you love this book as i do you.

all the love, y/n”

love was never in the cards for natasha but boy, would it not be nice to receive this.

as natasha ventured through the pages of this book, she found a certain comfort in the cursive writing she knew she was not meant to read.

little comments like “i bet she’s as beautiful as you” “you remind me of this line” “i want us to experience this” were enough to get her hooked till dinner time.

“nat, dinner” wanda knocks on the door before rushing to the kitchen. natasha had made it more than halfway through the book.

she reached the confession in the rain and one writing in red caught her eye. “no love is ever the same. but know my love for you is bursting with all kinds to give” natasha had fallen in love with the words from a person she doesn’t even know.

she made her way to dinner, nose nuzzled in the book. “nat, you read classic romance?” yelena points out “mhm” natasha sets the book down, remembering her page.

“i got you vests and left them in your closet” natasha stabs a french fry before eating it as natasha does a little ‘yes’ air fist.

natasha didn’t stick around for dinner conversation. instead, she grabbed a milk tea in the refrigerator and retreated to her room to read.

it was 1 in the morning when natasha finished, reaching the last blank page. the words took her by surprise.

“09/01/23

it’s been 9 months without you, you didn’t read this book. i’ll be giving this to the book shop down the block and you will never read the words i longed for you to hear. i hope you’re happy with your new life, truly.

to whoever is reading this,

i wish you a love as strong as darcy and elizabeth. you’ll get there;)

all the love,

y/n”

natasha shut the book with a deep breath. along the pages, she had been looking forward to that annotation in the end. natasha took it as a sign to sleep with all the excessive thinking.

yet all the black cursive words swirled around in her head that night, painting numerous people to who could be the face of these carefully said words.

the next morning natasha went on a personal mission to find you. why? she doesn’t know.

she realized an hour in that it was pointless looking for a y/n if she doesn’t even know what you look like. hence, her going back go the market.

she asked the seller when the book came in and if he knew who.

“oh yes, around last week monday a young woman with (y/h/c) donated a whole stack of books! only that one had annotations though” natasha nodded and thanked the man before going back to the compound after getting shawarma.

natasha accessed the city cctv footage from last week monday and saw you struggle with a pile of books.

you turned before turning back to the person and walking the other way. nataha rewinded the footage and paused it when you turned, she knew what you looked like now!

natasha ran face scanners and finds you — y/n y/l/n.

fresh graduate and working at a little cafe not too far from the market.

natasha didn’t really have a plan so when she stepped foot in the cafe. but when she saw you, she immediately lost track of her words.

“hey, what can i get you?” you smiled at natasha “um- a drink” natasha said as you laughed “what kind of drink?” “coffee” “black coffee?” natasha nodded

“alright, can i have a name?” you grabbed the cup and a marker “natasha” “thanks, that’ll be 3 dollars” natasha handed you the money. “i got that book” you tilted your head at her “pride and prejudice.. the one by the market” you sighed

“oh. yeah… sorry for the annotations” you laughed “no! i actually loved them. you have a great way of words” “thank you.. did you stalk me here to say that or something” you joked, putting the drink in front of her. “sort of” natasha shrugged and you paused

“that was a joke but… thanks?” “i mean this in the nicest and less creepy way but i really was curious by you. as i said, i was kind of enthralled by your words.” “are you saying you want to take me out on a date, natasha?”

“hoping to do so” natasha leans on her heels. “7 o’clock.. don’t be late or be a stalker” you chuckled, walking back to the counter “you bet”

#natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romonova #black widow fic #natasha x y/n

[krnzysh]

BODY AND SOUL !

SUMMARY after a certain pyro user plagued your mind, you find yourself failing to catch sleep. but what would happen if the same person you were trying oh so desperately to get your mind off of finds you and reveals unspoken feelings?

CHARACTER Diluc Ragnvindr x gn!reader

WARNINGS gender neutral reader, mentions of death, mention of the word 'fuck' once, slight abandonment issues, kissing scene from an inexperienced writer, not proofread! lmk if I missed any

WORD COUNT 1269

[💬] LOVE, AIKA uhm another fic inspired by pride and prejudice from me<3 this is a small fic I made back then and it's been in my drafts for about a month now? so here it is! I hope u enjoy~

The bright sun was only starting to rise, and the cold and gentle breeze from the night before blew dandelions away.

Why were you even awake in the break of dawn? That was the question you asked yourself.

But there was only one answer, you were up all night thinking about him…

Diluc Ragnvindr, the master of dawn winery, the most eligible bachelor, The uncrowned king of Mondstadt himself. The man who has captured your heart just from a single glance.

Meanwhile, you were just an ordinary citizen. You worked at Floral Whisper together with Flora and Donna.

With Donna’s never-ending rants about Diluc — who you have feelings for — you find your heart clenching whenever she does so.

How could someone like him, a noble of high status, fall for you? Nothing less but a mere commoner.

As you shook those thoughts away, you find yourself gazing at the beautiful terrain of Mondstadt. The luscious green grass covers kilometers of land. The streams of water rippled from the smallest breeze of wind. Mondstadt itself truly is a piece of art.

This was supposed to be a night walk to clear your thoughts and help you fall asleep, yet you were so engrossed in your thoughts that you felt as if the clocks stopped and you were in your own world.

You cherished the stillness of the night, no noise whatsoever, unlike how rowdy it can get during daylight.

But the faint rustle of footsteps broke you away from your thoughts, thinking for the worst you freeze in your place.

You close your eyes, hoping that atleast they could give you a quick and easy death.

But to your surprise a touch on your shoulder had you opening your eyes.

Whoever touched you had warm hands, they were so gentle, as if scared they could break you like a porcelain doll.

“Hey, it’s just me…” The person greeted you, the voice soft and very recognizable.

You turn around to see him, the same man that occupied your thoughts, leaving you with sleepless nights.

“Sorry, I thought it was someone.” You apologize for the action earlier, really you couldn’t blame yourself. Although there were patrolling knights, there are still hunters and monsters.

Diluc on the other hand was curious, why were you here? So early in the morning? So to satisfy his curiosity, he asked; “What are you doing here, when the sun hasn’t even risen yet?” 

Taken aback by his question, you kept silent for a while. You just can’t tell him ‘Oh I came here because I couldn’t stop thinking of you’. So you thought of a quick excuse; 

“I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to go on a walk…” It wasn’t really a lie, I mean, you were unable to sleep.

He stared at you suspiciously, as if questioning your answer, he always knew, but he kept quiet, understanding that whatever really was the reason you just didn’t want to share.

That’s why you fell for him, he knew you to the point that you didn’t even need to say anything but he already knew, he could read you so easily as if you were a children’s bedtime story.

Coupled with those behaviors of his, you just couldn’t help but fall for him in general. Everything about him was just so, loveable. You couldn’t help yourself but fall for him more and more as you spent time together.

You got to meet him when he was still a young child together with his brother, kaeya. Your father was Mr. Crepus’ bartender at Angels Share back in their days.

You were with him when he was still smiling so genuinely, with no care of the world.

You were with him when his father died and he broke any contact he had with his brother.

You were with him until he stopped talking to you, pushing you away.

Only a couple of years ago, he finally came to his senses, apologizing for his actions and asking if he could still rebuild that friendship you both once had.

“[Name]!” He called your name, shaking your shoulders, eyes held worry in them. “Are you okay? You spaced out again…” He asked.

“I am, sorry for worrying you.” You give him a soft smile to assure him. But Diluc couldn’t help but sigh, worried for the person he loves so dearly.

He loved you so much, he would fight Celestia and the Abyss for you just to keep you safe. But he was a coward, scared that once you find out his feelings for you, you would both grow apart again.

But he doesn’t know, that you love him, so dearly. You were both in love with each other. It was painfully obvious to the people around you, especially Kaeya.

You both stay in silence for some more time, just gazing at the rising sun. You looked so ethereal in Diluc’s eyes that he couldn’t help but ask himself, ‘Do I really deserve such an angel?’

Although he wanted to stay with you, he still had work to take care of. He turned to leave you alone, sensing you wanted more time gazing at the landscape before you. “[Name], I am going to head out now.”

Before he could even move, soft fingers grabbed the sleeves of his coat, clinging onto them as if begging him to stay. 

You were shocked, your body moved and clung to him.

“[Name]...?” He hesitantly asked, he too was taken aback by your bold moves.

Lowering your head, you looked into his eyes, finally taking that risk.

The nerves got to you, stopping you from uttering a word ‘Fuck, I’m just stalling him’ you bow your head down, staring at the grass and fiddling with your hands.

Sensing your nerves, he just stayed there with you, silently gazing into your head.

“[Name], can I… no, may I tell you something?” He spoke up after a while. To his question, you merely nod your head as a yes.

He let out a deep breath before proceeding; “I would like to tell you…” he started.

Raising your head to look at him, you noticed the tips of his ears burning red, ‘He’s flustered…?’ you thought.

“You… have bewitched me, body and soul, and I…’ He stopped for a little before continuing;

“And I love, I love, I love you… And I wish from this day forth never to be parted from you” He finally confesses, gazing at you with the softest eyes that hold so much love in them.

Shocked… After all this time, he also loved you? After all those sleepless nights of thinking if he loved anyone… 

Who he held so dear in his heart… was you…?

You couldn’t control the rosy tint that was dancing along your cheeks.

Approaching him, you took hold of his hand and rested your cheek on it… “Well, it would be a lie if I said I hold no feelings for you, ‘Luc..”

When he heard those words leave your mouth, a prominent red tint spread across his cheeks.

He brought you closer to him, faces only inches away from one another. 

You closed your eyes and leaned into him, as he captured the softness of your lips with his. You felt butterflies flutter around your stomach, you were sure he felt the same sensation.

In a bystander's eyes, it looked as if you were angels sent by Lord Barbatos himself with the sun rising behind you both, illuminating your figures and giving them a shining glow.

But to you, you were content, here, just having him already felt like heaven.

© aiikalvr, 2023 — do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my works without prior permission and/or confirmation on any platform!

#333 𓄳 「 krnzysh's anthology 」 #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin imagines #genshin fanfic #diluc #diluc ragnivindr x you #diluc x reader #diluc fluff #genshin impact #genshin diluc #diluc x gender neutral reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr #twilighttheatre