solivagant242

[solivagant242]

as the world caves in ✮⋆˙

pairing: sam winchester x f!reader

warnings: mentions of child neglect, blood, and scars

comment for part 2 :)

imagine the night before the world ends. the night before all hell, quite literally, will break loose on humanity. 

you wake up. It’s still dark and a little warm in the motel you and the winchesters decided to crash at. on the opposite bed, dean shifts and grumbles something, moving himself further into dreams. 

sam is sitting at the foot of your bed. he doesn’t say anything, he just looks at you with those big hazel eyes that have somehow always been able to see into your very soul.

he’s already dressed in his jacket and boots and you know what he wants. the ritual, something you guys have been doing ever since you went on the road with him and dean. 

wordlessly you get up. pull on your overshirt and shoes. brush the sleep-tousled hair back from your face and rub your eyes- it can’t be past four a.m., and the sun isn’t even up yet. everything feels somehow softer, like the muddled darkness is rubbing the edges off doors, chairs, corners. 

you walk down the street next to sam. no cars are out. nothing stirs, not even a breath of wind or birds in the trees. the lights at the intersection next to the hotel are stuck in green, as if letting invisible automobiles through. 

you step up and balance on the curb, feet moving carefully in front of the other, hands outstretched to keep yourself up. even then, you’re shorter than sam, who’s level with the sidewalk.

he turns his head and smiles at you, and that grin somehow warms you.

there’s a gas station at the corner, the cheap kind with the flashing neon lights and open 24/7 sign perched on the front. sam holds the door for you as you both slip inside, probably shocking the tired-looking teenager who’s slumped over the register. neither of you have said a word yet- the silence feels sacred, like breaking it would shatter a spell. 

you step back out onto the sticky pavement a few minutes later with warm coffees in your hand (black for sam, cream and extra sugar for you). you turn and pass one to sam. he takes it and sets off without a word, heading towards the highway divider across the empty street. you follow without a word, without a question.

the sun is beginning to come up now, a glimmer of pale gold peeking over the rim of the horizon. a few trucks are rumbling by, big eighteen-wheelers that seem hulking in the dawnlight. 

the two of you perch on the highway divider. sip your coffee. keep your eyes trained on the sunrise as it peeks higher and higher, spreading a rosy flush and deepened blue over the sky. a few stars are winking out, the moon fading gently above them.

and you think to yourself, this is going to be the end.

somehow, the thought doesn’t seem so terrifying. you’ve been doing this for too long for it to be anything else. you’ve come a long, long way from the terrified teenager whose parents left her at a rest stop in nebraska, forcing you to move and hunt and kill to protect yourself. 

and you’re tired. there seems to be a cosmic weight on your shoulders, in your chest, weighing you down even more than the tapestry of scars webbing your back and arms. 

perhaps at the end there isn’t any sadness. just a sweet kind of release, a farewell to what was and what could have been.

you glance at sam at the thought. neither of you have been paying attention to the other for a while now. or spoken, for that matter. you never have when you do this, and you never tell dean either, making sure you’re back well before he’s awake and out of bed. it’s been something just for the two of you ever since your first hunt that left you bleeding and gasping. 

but he’s already looking at you with that steady, unwavering light in his gaze that somehow makes you feel sad and happy and safe and scared all at once.

and you let yourself think, for just a moment, of what could have been.

✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙✮⋆˙

[solivagant242]

taking a break for a while

family stuff

[solivagant242]

"Love me like I love myself." "How?" "Don't." -a quote I wrote that applies to so many characters

[solivagant242]

heavenly twin pt. 3

pt.1 pt. 2

pairing: eventual sam winchester x oc!ariel

warnings: blood, descriptions of gore

summary: so...this is a fanfic i've had in my head for the past three or four years. it's LONG though so buckle in <3. basically ariel is cas's twin sister and there's a whole mystery/hunt thing set in and around london (i've been reading too many urban legends pls shoot me)

enjoy!

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

Three hours later, with dusk falling around them, Sam and Dean are standing on the sidewalk with their luggage around them and absolutely no idea where to go. 

“Did Cas say anything to you?” asks Sam, thumbing through the pocket guide he got from the airport. “Like where we should go?”

Dean snorts. “You think I have him up my sleeve or something?”

Sam stifles the urge to reply in the affirmative and instead turns in a slow circle, trying to orient himself with the map. 

His finger lands on a familiar name.

Cannon Street.

“Come on.”

“What are we even gonna find there?” complains Dean. “A sign or an arrow saying Morgue?”

“It’s possible,” Sam retorts. “Anything is better than just standing here.”

Grumbling, Dean follows him. 

As it turns out, 111 Cannon Street is a building. 

Just a plain, white office building, a stream of people eddying and flowing around it. But- Sam pauses- a lot of them are pausing to take pictures of something in the front wall. Something caged in by a thick white grate.

He elbows his way closer, Dean on his heels. 

A rock.

A fucking rock. 

It’s enclosed by the grate, far enough back that passersby (or the curious tourists snapping photos of it) can touch it. 

“Dude, what the hell?” snaps Dean. He squats to peer at the rock. “All this way for a rock?”

An old lady standing on the curb, clutching an expensive-looking bag, gives a disapproving sniff, the type that plainly states who is this idiot?

“Um, ma’am? We’re from out of town, could you tell us what this is for?” asks Sam, swallowing his pride and pivoting to face her. 

“Why, it’s the London Stone,” she replies, her accent seeming pointedly disdainful. “Legend has it that if it’s moved, London will fall. Been here ever since the city was built. Never moved once.”

Sam’s eyes widen. Artifacts that have been around for that long, especially around a major city, have got to have some sort of supernatural importance attached to them. But what has the gruesome shipment of body parts got to do with an ancient rock?

He’s about to thank the woman for her help, but she’s already vanished into the chilly gray twilight, pale coat vanishing around a corner. 

“So what now?” growls Dean. “Didn’t come all this way here to stare at a fucking rock”-

Sam rolls his eyes, admitting defeat. “Let’s find a hotel or something till Cas gets back to us, I don’t know”-

A scream rings through the twilight. Followed by more screams. Soul-wrenching, terrified screeches that seem to rend the air apart-

The brothers don’t even have to look at each other before they’re sprinting towards the sound. 

Blood streaks the ground.

A single street lamp is flickering fitfully on the curb. 

The alley is dark otherwise. 

Dean has his shotgun cradled in the crook of his arm, green eyes narrowed as he slowly moves forward. Sam flanks him with his pistol. 

The corpse is in front of them. A middle-aged woman, her waxy-looking skin distorted and torn, milky gray eyes wide open in a sightless scream. 

Her throat is torn out. A ribbon of blood trickles slowly from it and into the gutter. 

Sam swallows hard, noting the teeth marks around her neck.

“Hellhounds,” states Dean, confirming his suspicions. 

“You got the glasses?”

Dean fumbles in his pocket, shoves a pair into Sam’s hand. He yanks them on. Strands of his hair tear out, but he barely feels anything as he slowly backs up against his brother, pulse hammering in his ears. 

Of all the entities they could have run into, why did it have to be hellhounds?

The grayish blur of the lenses gives way to blackness and he squints, feeling his stomach sink. 

Three of them. Three massive, shadow-cloaked dogs, hackles raised, growling at the two hunters. 

Panic is starting to rise in Sam’s throat. “I thought these only killed the one they were sent after.”

“You and me both,” clips Dean.

The closest hound is circling closer. Sam swears he can smell the brimstone on its breath. “So why are they after- us!”

His last word is cut short as the beast lunges, claws clipping his shoulder. Dean fires a shot and he presses himself to the ground, rolling away, dread swirling at the back of his chest. Guns aren’t effective against them. The only things that are-

Angel blades or holy fire- neither of which we have.

Dean swears loudly, another shot ringing out as Sam pulls himself to his feet. Two of the hellhounds have backed him up against the wall. 

Sam raises his pistol, not wanting to shoot but already sensing the flash of teeth that’s about to follow-

A crushing force bears him to the ground and he curses, scrabbling for the glasses- they’ve fallen off his face, skittering into one of the dark corners of the alleyway. He can’t even see what’s on top of him, but he can sure as hell feel the weight of the massive paws bearing him down, the fiery drool making his eyes water. He can sense the jaws opening, teeth curving down towards his throat-

Something sprouts from the hellhound’s jaw, right beneath its tufted ear. A second later, another spears itself into the beast’s rib cage, sending it flying backwards and off of Sam in a heap of fur. Gaping, he scrabbles for his gun as he gets back to his feet, barely cognizant of his bloody nose.

It’s a silver arrow, feathered and slender and shining with a bright, deadly light. 

Three more shafts fly in deadly silence to find their marks in the second hellhound. Snarling, it tries to drag itself towards a bruised and confused-looking Dean before collapsing on the ground. 

The brothers slowly turn to face the direction of the arrows. 

[solivagant242]

heavenly twin pt. 2

pt.1 pt. 3

pairing: eventual sam winchester x oc!ariel

warnings: blood, descriptions of gore

summary: so...this is a fanfic i've had in my head for the past three or four years. it's LONG though so buckle in <3. basically ariel is cas's twin sister and there's a whole mystery/hunt thing set in and around london (i've been reading too many urban legends pls shoot me)

enjoy!

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

Three and a half days later, the Winchesters are on a plane heading to London. 

Castiel had declined to travel with them, seeing as it would cost extra for a plane ticket and he could simply teleport there when he pleased. He’d left the night before, poofing out of existence to inform Ariel of their impending arrival.

Looking back, Sam almost wishes he’d invited him to come along. Dean is in a sort of blind terror/panic that began the second the plane’s wheels lifted off the ground.

“Ow!”

“That’s the arm that goes with my seat”-

“That’s the arm that goes with my shoulder!” Sam yanks the- now bruised-feeling- appendage away, wincing as he glares at his brother. “Seriously, would you calm down? This is like a three-hour flight. You’ve driven way longer.”

“How long do you think it is before they bring out drinks?” Dean, white-faced, is paging through the pamphlet tucked into his seat. “I hate this”-

The plane hits a spot of turbulence and Dean goes green. Sam seizes the moment to administer some of the tranquilizing medication in his carry-on, in a dose whose size is normally reserved for horses. 

Dean passes out and snores the rest of the trip. 

Sam can’t restrain himself from fidgeting around, tapping his fingers on his thighs and gazing out the window. A thick cloud cover is obscuring his vision of the ocean. It makes him feel suffocated and enclosed. 

Who is this Ariel, anyway?

He pulls out his notebook. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. Or if he said he hadn’t spent the last few nights researching as much as he could about Castiel’s elusive sibling.

The first search: ariel angel of healing 

Oddly, according to Google, Ariel does not appear to be the angel of healing at all. That seemed to be a position reserved for her sibling, Raphael- Sam’s lip curls at the name. 

How is Raphael an archangel but Ariel is not? Cas is a seraphim, so it makes sense that his twin would also be. Right? He doesn’t know; angel dynamics are beyond his scope of reason. 

And how do we even know we can trust her?

He hesitates. He trusts Castiel. At least he thinks he does; the angel’s occasional blind naivete has gotten them into some admittedly sticky situations that he doesn’t want to think about. I mean, they’re twins. They must be close.

At least I hope so. 

Sighing, Sam’s finger skims down the page, covered in near-incomprehensible scribbles. Angel of nature? Oversees the earth, the planets, and elements. Liaison between the human world and the less comprehensible one of magic, faeries, whatever. One of the human virtues. Summoned by- he snorts- the color pink. Pink anything, really.

His mind conjures up one of the mediums they’d come across in a hunt a few years back, a ditzy seventy-year-old who insisted she had “a rapport with all things natural and heavenly”. She’d had vines inside and outside her house and wore fucking roses in her hair, burning so much incense in the living room that the air felt hard to breathe. 

But that hadn’t stopped her from pulling a knife on Dean and trying to cut his throat. 

Sam sighs again, trying to get his massive height comfortable in the miniscule airplane seat. He doesn’t know this Ariel at all, but she better not be a homicidal maniac like some of her less savory siblings. 

[solivagant242]

firsts *ੈ✩‧₊˚

pairing: sirius black x reader

warnings: mild swearing

if you'd like a part 2 let me know :)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚

✰ the first time sirius sees you is actually in the train, first year

✰ you’re sitting by yourself with your knees drawn up to your chest, staring out the window, and he thinks for a second that you look a bit sad

✰ he is about to walk over and say something when his newfound friend, james, tosses a chocolate frog at his head and misses

✰ the frog lands in your hair

✰ he babbles apologies as he tries awkwardly to separate the sticky strands, an endeavor which ends when you calmly hex him, get up, and close the car door in his face

✰ it takes you two hours to get the sugar out of your hair and you’re nearly late for the sorting ceremony, which does not improve your mood- or your animosity towards young black 

✰ the first time sirius talks with you is at the beginning of potions class

✰ you had chosen a seat at the far corner of the room, wanting to be as far away as possible from james and his crowd

✰ sirius saunters in five minutes late, which earns him a scolding and five points deducted from gryffindor

✰ he doesn’t seem to care, scanning the room before settling on the empty seat next to you and plopping down on the bench

✰ “so what are we doing today?”

✰ “shut the hell up,” you hiss, trying to follow along in your book and feeling sheer rage at the situation starting to boil beneath your collarbones

✰ you miraculously make it through the whole class without a) murdering each other or b) blowing up the desk you’re at, which last is mostly due to your hard work at ignoring sirius’ nonsense

✰ (which is mostly tossing spitballs of increasing size in james’ direction)

✰ at the end of class, he grins at you, those bright gray eyes entirely unaware of how freaking pissed you are at him

✰ “so, same time same place tomorrow?”

✰ the silent hex hits him a second later

✰ at this rate, you’re going to be a fucking pro at that hex by the time the year is over 

✰ the first time sirius sees you, like really sees you, is towards the end of first year

✰ it’s a pity that it’s when you have him pinned against a wall and your wand at his throat 

✰ april fool’s day has come and gone, but that hasn’t stopped the marauders from charming every classroom door to (liberally) splash water on anyone going in or out

✰ which is why your hair, robes, and bag are currently dripping with water that’s puddling at the soles of your shoes 

✰ you grit your teeth, shoving sirius harder into the side of the corridor

✰ “have you got anything to say, black?”

✰ a cocky retort is on his lips, but when he looks into your eyes, it dies and falls back 

✰ your eyes are narrowed in annoyance, yes, but- he can see how bright they are, the play of light and shadow 

✰ and is it just him or is the late afternoon sun making your hair look especially shining?

✰ and is just him or is the grip you have on his collar and the way your teeth are clenched kind of…hot?

✰ he straightens himself, freeing himself from your grasp, and turns around so you’re pressed to the wall in the blink of an eye

✰ sirius grins right into your face

✰ “yeah, fancy a date?”

✰ you smack his arm, duck so he topples towards the wall, and stick out one foot 

✰ he trips directly into the potions classroom door, a splash following a moment later 

✰ you stand there, haloed in the light, as you glare at him

✰ “when pigs fly, you ass”

✰ a turn on your heel and you’re down the hall and gone 

✰ leaving sirius blinking after you, an expression on his face that can only be described as starstruck

*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚

[solivagant242]

heavenly twin

pt.2

pairing: eventual sam winchester x oc!ariel

warnings: blood, descriptions of gore

summary: so...this is a fanfic i've had in my head for the past three or four years. it's LONG though so buckle in <3. basically ariel is cas's twin sister and there's a whole mystery/hunt thing set in and around london (i've been reading too many urban legends pls shoot me)

enjoy!

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

“You have a sister?”

Dean’s words hang in the air in disbelief. Not bothering to repeat them, Sam follows his brother’s shocked green eyes to Castiel’s face.

The angel sighs, shifting from foot to foot. “Yes. She is my twin.”

“How the hell have you not told us about her?” demands Dean, resting both his feet on the kitchen table and ignoring Sam’s wince. 

Castiel blinks at him. “I did not find it necessary. We do not see each other often. She lives in England, many miles away.”

“Is that where you go sometimes?” asks Sam, thinking fleetingly of all the times Castiel had poofed into or out of the bunker, no explanation of where he’d been or where he was going.

The angel nods slowly. “Occasionally.”

Dean snorts. “So is she, like, the good kind of angel?”

Castiel stares at him and speaks slowly, as if he’s talking to a child; Sam has to hold back a snicker at the sight. “Dean, no angel is inherently good or evil. Most, at least,” he adds belatedly, and Sam knows where his mind is. “But Ariel is my closest sibling, and she is the angel of healing.”

“Wait, there are angels of certain things? What are you, then, the angel of bad advice?” cracks Dean. 

Sam can tell Castiel is holding back an irritated huff. “That is irrelevant, Dean. I am bringing her up because I believe she could be useful to this hunt.” He gestures rather aimlessly at the mess of papers, books, and documents strewn over the table.

It’s nearly one a.m. at the Bunker. The electric lights are giving Sam a headache, and he kneads at his temples, eyes burning. 

This fucking case.

It had started exactly one week ago. One week, even though it felt like a million years. 

First there was the package that had showed up on their doorstep. Its return address read only 111 Cannon Street, which Sam didn’t recognize. Why hadn’t there been a state, zip code, anything?

These smaller considerations were forgotten, however, when Sam had opened it (gingerly, over the sink, with gloves on).

One small thing had fallen out. 

A finger.

A human finger, plainly severed a long time ago, if the blackening around the stump and long-dried blood were any indications. The faint smell of rot and decay hung around it; Sam imagined it seeping into the kitchen and tainting it. He had to bite his tongue to hold back the bile that rose up in his throat. 

Dean had poked at it, a half-fascinated look on his face. “You think this is, I don’t know, some demon loose in a hospital?”

The brothers had driven around to every hospital and morgue in the area. No leads, just some deeply quizzical and concerned looks from the doctors there. 

Then two days later. Another package. 

This one had a whole fucking human hand inside. The stump was ragged, torn, even more necrosis setting in on the tissue, and there were deep scratches lining the back of the palm. And beneath the fingernails- which were torn and jagged; plainly this unfortunate victim had fought tooth and nail, quite literally- were clumps of rough black hair. 

Which was how Sam had known immediately that it wasn’t a hellhound. No, the hair wouldn’t be visible without the glasses. 

So what the hell was it?

He had paced the bunker for hours that night, jumpy and twitchy, biting at the skin around his nails. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamed of a corpse holding a carving knife, systematically slicing off bits of itself like some diseased butcher before neatly packaging them in brown paper bags. 

Suffice to say that Sam did not sleep very well that night. Or the next one.

Especially yesterday night, when a final package had arrived at the door. 

Dean had questioned the delivery man very politely and firmly. At least, Sam was choosing to believe that he had. He was pretty sure that his brother had lifted the unfortunate UPS driver by his collar against the front door and threatened to remove his lungs unless he told them about the mysterious packages. 

The- abjectly terrified- driver had babbled something along the lines of he didn’t know, please don’t kill him, all he did was pick up the damn packages from the warehouse and this one was addressed to here so what was he supposed to do? Oh god put the knife away-

They got no information out of him.

Which was why Sam had been up for the past three days tearing the library apart for any information on a) homicidal maniacs who liked shipping around dismembered victims b) any kind of mythical beasts with enormous claws and sharp teeth that also had claws deft enough to mail packages through the fucking US Postal System or c) good headache remedies.

He had been unsuccessful on all three counts. 

Castiel coughs, a small, polite sound reminding the two that he was still very much in front of them. 

Dean sighs, rising and tossing his beer can into the trash. “I don’t know, Cas. Why are you choosing now to tell us about this mystery relative? I’m way too well acquainted with other members of your freaking family tree”-

Cas’ nostrils flare, the only indication that he’s annoyed. “Ariel has spent over two hundred years in London hunting. If there is anyone who knows what this is, it would be her.”

Sam’s eyes narrow. “England?”

He glances back down at his laptop, the dying battery blinking at him from the corner, and types something into the search bar.

“Dean, 111 Cannon Street is from England.” Something like elation swells in his chest, just the knowledge that they had something to work with-

“Yes,” says Cas composedly. “I informed you of that two days ago, when the first package came.”

Sam blinks at him. “You did?” Hazy memories of the angel mentioning a place, something with a stone, all between waves of migraine-induced delirium return to him, and his eyes fall before Castiel’s exasperated look. “Oh. You did.”

“All the way in England? You really want us to go all the way out”- complains Dean.

“It’s ‘cause you’re scared of flying,” mutters Sam.

His brother glares at him. “I am not. I just don’t like the idea of”-

The doorbell rings. 

They get the package. Carry it into the Bunker. Place it on the kitchen table. 

Sam is the one who opens it. 

The second he sees its contents, he turns his head to the side and vomits on the floor, the needles of his headache replaced by anvils, dull and heavy and aching. 

Inside this box is a severed human head. 

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

[solivagant242]

late night drives pt. 2 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

pairing: dean winchester x childhoodfriend!reader

warnings: blood, violence

just dean's pov from late night drives :)

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

dean is managing somehow to keep both hands on the steering wheel and one-and-a-half eyes on the road. 

he’s not quite sure how. his hands are shaking, and he doesn’t know if it’s the type of shaking that’s from fear or the type from strained and sore muscles, cause he’s really feeling both right now. 

in his mind’s eye he can see the shape of the vampire as it flew towards you, an almost graceful arc described by the curve of its back, of the knife in its hand. he can still see the slow, almost dreamy way you pivoted to the side, fast but not quite fast enough to dodge the slice-scrape-cut that left blood dripping onto the cold ground. 

sam had a hold of you by then, gripping you beneath the arms and hustling you around the corner before any more vampires scented your wound and came crawling. which was why you didn’t see the brutality that dean unleashed on the one that had hurt you. 

it wasn’t enough to stab it. no, it had hurt you- you, with the stars in your eyes and the stolen sweater of sam’s that was still way too big for your pale hands. 

it had hurt you, and it would suffer. 

he had emerged around the corner five minutes later, blood streaking his jacket, gun, wrists. if sam noticed that his face looked paler beneath the blood and grime of the hunt, he didn’t say anything.

dean had driven home with his jaw so tight he could swear he felt his teeth creak, stubbornly ignoring your half-hearted and admittedly loopy requests from the backseat to switch the radio from ac/dc to lofi. 

god, did you never shut up? here you were, bleeding all over the leather upholstery with a wound that had nearly severed your brachial artery, and you were trying to turn on a goddamn lullaby station. 

he glances over at you.

you’re asleep in the passenger seat, head resting on the side of the car. you’ve drawn your knees partly up to your chest, hands and arms tucked in between them.

if it was sam, dean would have blustered till he was awake about putting his dirty shoes on baby’s leather seats. 

but with you, he doesn’t say anything. 

his jaw relaxes, ever so slightly. he can see the moon in your hair. it looks soft, like some sort of luminous reflection in a lake.

for a moment he feels the urge to brush the strands back from your forehead. 

then his face is flushing and he’s biting his lip and looking away. 

how could he touch you with the blood on his hands- the blood that he’d willingly shed, all for you?

so he reaches into the back and pulls out a folded, well-worn blanket, one that sam must have left in there at some point after a particularly rainy hunt. he drapes it over your shoulders. 

you stir, ever so slightly, and mumble something, the faintest breath of air leaving your parted lips. 

dean’s face contorts and he allows himself one, just one, chaste brush of his thumb across your cheekbone as you slip back into sleep.

he leans back in the driver’s seat, resting one arm out the window, as he pilots the two of you through the warm summer night. almost unconsciously, his foot is light on the gas, taking every turn and stop slowly.

anything to keep from waking you. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

[solivagant242]

idea ⋆˚࿔

so there's a long spn fanfic idea that has been RUNNING IN MY HEAD since literally high school (i was a lonely kid don't judge pls)

basically cas has a twin sister named ariel (self-insert but that's the name given) who lives in london and when the winchesters need your help he brings them to you. cue ariel x sam.

[solivagant242]

late night drives ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

pairing: dean x childhood friend!reader

warnings: alluded childhood abuse/neglect, blood, mild angst, sickness

this is an entirely self-indulgent drabble since i haven't been able to get the fluff/soft memory/comfort trope out of my head- this is based on an aesthetic that i can't quite name.

comment if you want dean's pov!

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

you didn’t know when it had become a tradition, something just for the two of you. maybe it was when you’d both been fourteen, stuck in the middle of nowhere, each with fathers that didn’t want to come home. 

maybe it was when you had begun hunting and taken the impala on the road. when the stress of all the blood and sweat and death started getting to you.

either way. it didn’t matter.

the air is so warm it feels almost like bathwater. that doesn’t stop you from shivering, though, wrapping your arms around yourself. your hair is still wet from the burning shower you’d taken, the shower that had left blood swirling down the drain and the fresh slices and stabs on your skin stinging and twining. 

you’re in the passenger seat, the one where sam normally is. you’re not sure if his towering height is responsible for why the seat feels so huge, too low to the ground, as if his weight has pressed it down.

dean is driving.

you don’t normally look at him during these drives. or even pay attention to him, for that matter; times like these are spent in a wordless appreciation of the other’s silence, each of you battling whatever demons have clawed their way from the depths of your minds this time. 

but this time you do, through half-closed eyelids. 

his face looks more relaxed than it did half an hour ago, jaw soft instead of clenched. the shadows under those green eyes haven’t dissipated, though. 

you doubt they ever will. 

drowsily you rest your head on the side of the impala, the soft turns and pauses at stoplights lulling you into a doze. 

you used to be scared of falling asleep. nightmares would flock behind your eyes, black shards of ice stabbing into your skull and leaving you screaming in the dead of night. before you went on the road with the winchesters, you’d spend hours lying on the slant of your bedroom roof, silent tears trickling coldly into your ears till you couldn’t cry anymore. 

even after you’d formed your own messy little broken family with sam and dean, you’d been scared to fall asleep. you still remember how your mom had left in the dead of night when you were eight. you had heard the door open and close, a tiny little dismissive sound audible through the chirping of the frogs outside. 

she hadn’t ever come back, and you knew you wouldn’t be seeing her again.

the cigarette burns on your hand tingle in relief at the thought.

you don’t know when you became okay with sleeping with the winchesters around. somewhere in between the falling and flying of delirium, of a hunt gone wrong and more medicine than you thought possible pumping through your veins.

dean had stayed up with you for two nights in a row. his calloused fingers had been gentle as they carded through your hair, pushing it back from your sweaty forehead, even when you thrashed around and nearly fell off the bed.

he’d caught you and deposited you back under the covers. 

“it’s okay, sweetheart. sleep. please sleep.”

you had slept soundly ever since then. 

a brighter light blinks across your eyelids and you stir a bit, letting your eyes blur into focus. 

the sky is a rich shade of blue, deepening to midnight at its peak and broadening to pale gold nearer the horizon. a few creamy stars are scattered across its expanse.

stoplights and gas station signs flicker past. more lights- cherry-red, neon green, and bright yellow. 

it’s all a blur, a soft, sleepy blur cloaked in the light hum of the impala. dean shifts and mumbles something that you can’t quite catch, and somehow his voice and the smell of the cheap ivory soap he always uses is soothing.

you close your eyes and drift off into another vaguely remembered dream.

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[solivagant242]

jupiter ⋆｡°✩☾🪐

pairing: dean x childhood friend!reader

warnings: blood, some angst, fluff

this is based on the song jupiter by flower face, since it's my current obsession on spotify.

enjoy!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

overwhelming ecstasy

our bodies move in harmony

always waking breathlessly

from dreams that leave me wanting more of you

how long ago was it that you met? you can’t remember; far more years than seems possible. 

you’d been a wide-eyed, gangly kid with legs and arms that seemed too long for your body. 

you saw dean winchester for the first time in the driveway of his house, sitting outside on the curb and staring at the sky, painted richly by the evening colors. 

you didn’t know why he was outside so late- wasn’t it time for bed? your parents had already closed your door and tucked you in, the sultry summer air drifting in through the open window.

the window that was far too close to the ground outside for its own good.

you were outside and in the front yard in less than a minute, clutching the astronomy book you’d gotten for your eighth birthday to your chest. shyness swelled in your chest as you approached him, so still and dark-looking in the twilight. 

“are you looking for stars?”

he looks at you with his small face unreadable. “isn’t it too early?”

“a little. i think Jupiter is visible, though. if you look that way.”

you point towards the horizon and dean squints. “i can’t see anything.”

“it’s right there. see the bright?”

he looks, and his face softens. “oh. you’re right.”

that was how it started, on that hot july night so long ago. 

these silly games we play

stupid ways to make you stay

my heart's split open on display

i can't wait another day

to touch your face, to hold you

i just need you by my side tonight

you’re in high school now. towards the end of senior year. both you and sam have applied to college, and both of you have been accepted. him to stamford, you to princeton.

the letter is in your hand, the envelope freshly torn. 

dean’s face is swimming in front of you, tears clouding your vision. 

“please don’t go.”

your arms close around him, just like they always have. you hold his face close and kiss away his tears. 

overwhelming ecstasy

your name repeated endlessly

ice cream by the movie screens

we'll make out in the backseat of your car

ripped shirts and perfect throws

'til my body overflows

in the summer afterglow

i love you more than you will ever know

lazy summer nights, the feeling of dean’s lips and rough stubble. he’d grown bigger, older, harder somehow about his jaw and eyes.

but he’s soft with you. he’ll always be soft with you, his girl, his star girl. 

but it's alright

just keep it all inside tonight

we can leave right now, never come back home

you're all i need

forget everything that we used to be

take me to another place, fly me up to Jupiter

we can run away

but i'll always be at home with you

“come with me,” dean pleads outside your window less than a year later. 

your face is streaked with tears again. you can hear the rumble of his car outside, a tight-faced sam in the passenger seat. “i can’t, dean. i can’t leave my parents, my home”-

he comes closer, cupping your face in his hands. “run away with me. i want to take you somewhere safe, somewhere you won’t have to worry- you don’t even have to stay with me if you don’t want to”-

his lips taste salty with your mingled tears. 

overwhelming ecstasy

your skin is like a melody

your heartbeat brings me to my knees

just begging for a chance to simply

taste the moonlight on your lips

the fever sings, the honey drips

curtains closed, the record skips

no one's has ever loved like this

silver light is draped across your bed, casting dappled shadows across your bare skin. you’re wrapped in dean’s arms, face buried in his chest.

his body is curled protectively around you. In the shadows of the dingy motel room, his face looks aged and worn and far older than it should. 

you trace his lips with your finger before nestling back into his embrace and drifting off to sleep. 

i'm certain, it must be holy

to feel something so pure

overwhelming ecstasy

twisted in your entropy

clinging to you desperately

and i can taste the sweetness of your breath

the hunt hasn’t gone well and dean has been getting quieter and quieter, those green eyes dulling. when he kisses you now, it feels almost starved. desperate, like he’s trying to drink you in and can never get enough.

his fingers leave red marks in your shoulders when he embraces you. his face always crumples when he sees them, the evidence of how rough he’s become, the life he’s living steadily battering at him.

you rock him to sleep with his head in your lap. 

the stars are screaming loud

the world outside is breaking down

burning cities, whispered vows

and i can feel you all around me

nothing feels the same

nothing feels quite like you

the world is falling. stars plummet from the sky, and creatures whose names you don’t know are livid in the gutters. everything is black, the end of the world looming over you.

dean holds you like a prayer, clutching your bruised and bloodied frame to his chest. his tears are falling fast, faster than your steadily ebbing life force. cas’ blue eyes are hopeless. 

“i can’t fucking lose you, sweetheart. not now. come back to me- come back”-

we can leave right now, never come back home

you're all I need

forget everything that we used to be

take me to another place, fly me up to Jupiter

we can run away

but i'll always feel at home with you

and if you run, i'll be right behind you

you can feel dean’s rough hands on your skin. there’s a roaring in your ears that won’t dissipate, a dreamy euphoria settling into your bones.

for a moment you can swear you’re under the old tree at the winchester house, sharing the tire swing with dean, a mindless blur of stars lodging itself behind your eyes. you are young and innocent once more, and dean is resting his head on your shoulder-

but you can see a light in front of you, flickering in time with dean’s sobs, and you claw your way towards it. 

you cough out blood and dean breaks down in sobs, holding you to his dirty leather jacket at the sensation of your heartbeat beneath his fingertips.

we'll make it out

nothing left between us but light and sound

take me into outer space, fly me up to Jupiter

i am yours forever

and i'll always be at home with you

years later, many years later, when you and dean have found a permanent resting place beneath matching headstones, the angels still tell stories of you.

they speak of the pair of hunters whose love transcended pain and sorrow, who loved each other to death and back again.

and they name a new constellation after you, a scatter of glowing stars that surrounds Jupiter and is visible in the early morning and evenings. if you turn your head and squint, you can see that it faintly resembles the embracing arms of two lovers. 

and that’s what it’s called. the lovers. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

comment/reblog if you enjoyed this!

[solivagant242]

about me °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

°❀⋆ penniless uni student

°❀⋆ animal lover and coffee addict

°❀⋆ i like to write (badly)

°❀⋆ taking requests for spn and hp at the moment!

°❀⋆ check out my blog if you'd like, i made a new theme ᡣ𐭩

°❀⋆ comments and feedback keep me motivated!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁masterlist . ݁₊ ݁˖ . ݁

࣪ ִֶָ☾. supernatural

-`♡´- dean winchester

ㅤ ♡ྀི ₊ jupiter

ㅤ ♡ྀི ₊ late night drives late night drives pt. 2

-`♡´- sam winchester

ㅤ ♡ྀི ₊ heavenly twin series

ㅤ ♡ྀི ₊ as the world caves in

࣪ ִֶָ☾. harry potter

-`♡´- remus lupin

ㅤ ♡ྀི ₊ losing you series

-`♡´- sirius black

ㅤ ♡ྀི ₊ silver boy and golden girl

ㅤ ♡ྀི ₊firsts

[solivagant242]

silver boy and golden girl

pairing: sirius black x shy!reader

warnings: none, slight swearing?

this is honestly more of a drabble than anything else, it came to my head last night and i couldn't sleep till i wrote it down. i’m sorry it’s so long, but hope you enjoy!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

༊*·˚ everything about sirius is silver

༊*·˚ right down to his bright eyes and that quicksilver smile of his, there one moment and gone the next, right down to the rings he always wears on his pale-skinned hands 

༊*·˚ even his laughter sounds silver- the way it seems to ripple in the air like moonlight

༊*·˚ and then he meets you

༊*·˚ the first time he sees you is at the library at the end of first year (of course, that was the only time he’d set foot in the library at all till then- and that was to help peter set up a prank involving a box of centipedes for some unsuspecting ravenclaws)

༊*·˚  you were sitting at one of the little alcoves in the corner, knees drawn up under your skirt 

༊*·˚ you’d taken off your red tie and let it hang loosely around your neck, a contrast to your usual buttoned-up, neatly-pleated uniform 

༊*·˚  for that matter, your hair was down too- soft waves framed your face, free from the usual knot you pulled it back in when you studied or read 

༊*·˚ the setting sun behind you was casting a rich, golden, beautiful light across your profile that glimmered through your eyes and made them look even brighter 

༊*·˚ sirius swears his heart skips a beat at the sight 

༊*·˚ the box of (disgruntled) centipedes he’s carrying falls, unheeded, to the floor, much to the chagrin of madame pince, who descends upon him in a fury

༊*·˚ he couldn’t care less

༊*·˚ the next few weeks are spent feverishly trying to get closer to you

༊*·˚ he stalks looks for you in the hallways and tries to gauge where you sit in each classroom, just wanting to catch a glimpse of those pretty eyes again 

༊*·˚ when he finally catches up to you in the hallway (why do you have to walk so damn fast? it’s not like potions class is going anywhere), he pulls a bouquet of silver roses out from under his robes with a flourish 

༊*·˚ “for you”

༊*·˚ you stare at him, shocked, a blush spreading across your face 

༊*·˚ sure, you’re both in gryffindor, but you sure as hell don’t know each other

༊*·˚ fuck, you’ve never even talked to him at all- he’s on the other end of the social spectrum from you, an unashamed nerd whose idea of a fun night out is studying in the slytherin common room with hot chocolate to watch the giant squid 

༊*·˚ you’re the golden girl of gryffindor- straight-a’s, a perfect record of praise from professors, and a perfectly structured, organized life in your own little world

༊*·˚ and now sirius black, self-proclaimed nuisance/class clown/troublemaker extraordinaire is grinning at you?

༊*·˚ nope

༊*·˚ no way

༊*·˚ not happening

༊*·˚ you mumble the invisibility charm and are ‘round the corner and gone, trying to ignore sirius’ friends’ laughter 

༊*·˚ that doesn’t shut him down, though

༊*·˚ quite the opposite

༊*·˚ you have no fucking clue how he got your address when you went home for the summer, but suddenly an owl is bringing you a package every week

༊*·˚ first it’s your favorite chocolates, held in a silver paper bag

༊*·˚ then it’s a delicate silver bangle that perfectly fits your wrist

༊*·˚ (the exact color of sirius’ eyes, though you’d never admit how you know that)

༊*·˚ the next day a note comes

༊*·˚ you’re hesitant to open it, half-expecting a stream of silver glitter or something equally cartoonish to explode in your face- you’re all too familiar with the marauders’ pranks, having watched them afar (or maybe just sirius) for a long time

༊*·˚ it’s not, though

༊*·˚ it’s a card to a very nice restaurant, just a few miles from your house, and a handwritten note that says be my date?

༊*·˚ how can you say no to that?

༊*·˚ you tell yourself that it’s just because you’re curious as you do your hair, spend more time than you thought possible figuring out the right way to make it curl and puff

༊*·˚ that it’s just to see what he’s about, as you step into a beautiful, shimmery golden dress that had sat untouched in your closet since your sixteenth birthday

༊*·˚ are you lying to yourself at this point?

༊*·˚ yeah, probably 

༊*·˚ and when sirius shows up at the restaurant at seven p.m. sharp, you’re…kind of impressed 

༊*·˚ he looks good in a dress shirt, for fuck’s sake. the crisp white accentuates his broad shoulders and the raven of his hair, even bringing out the glints of his blue in his stormy-gray-

༊*·˚ the cocky bastard is grinning at you

༊*·˚ “like what you see?”

༊*·˚ you swear you’re about to turn into a puddle in the center of your dress and melt into the floor with embarrassment 

༊*·˚ but contrary to what you’d thought (and snippets of conversation you’ve heard from dorcas and marlene), sirius is a perfect gentleman to you

༊*·˚ pulls out your chair, pays for the meal, holds the door, walks you to your car

༊*·˚ and he’s a good conversationalist, too

༊*·˚ you hadn’t thought that he knew so much about the muggle world and the type of science that you’re into, but he is

༊*·˚ he actually takes the time to listen to you

༊*·˚ and for once, he’s someone who wants to spend time with you for you, not because he wants your help studying or your answers for a homework

༊*·˚ you begin going on more and more dates

༊*·˚ you don’t know why, but what you’re feeling for sirius has slowly grown to engulf you, like ivy covering a wall 

༊*·˚ that doesn’t change the fact that you’re scared. dead straight scared, of letting anyone in, showing any vulnerability whatsoever, any emotion

༊*·˚ (which, according to your preening parents, is the only reason you do so well academically, but you have no intention of telling them otherwise)

༊*·˚ sirius, ever the gentleman, doesn’t push it

༊*·˚ doesn’t push anything

༊*·˚ he leaves it all up to you, and you’re not used to being in control 

༊*·˚ it’s scary and new and exhilarating all at once

༊*·˚ which maybe is what prompts you to ride his flying motorbike with him for the first time in the middle of second year

༊*·˚ the thing terrifies you. like, flat-out terrifies you

༊*·˚ little by little, you get more comfortable on it (definitely not because it means you get to rest your head on his shoulder, the gold jewelry around your neck overshadowed by the silver rings on his big hands, encircling your fingers curled over his chest)

༊*·˚ and the first time you kiss him is when you’re both astride the motorbike, godric knows how far off the ground, with the stars glimmering gold and silver in your eyes

༊*·˚ sirius nearly crashes the damn thing into the lake at the sensation of your soft lips on his

༊*·˚ and after that, you’re official- silver boy and golden girl, a perfect balance

༊*·˚ the perfect pair of gryffindor

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

did you like it? feedback/comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[solivagant242]

losing you pt. 15

remus lupin x f!reader

warnings: just some fluff to wrap up this series <3

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7 pt. 8 pt. 9 pt.10 pt. 11 pt. 12 pt. 13 pt. 14

amberly is used as the MC here since i used to write a lot of fanfics with her, but feel free to self-insert or use whatever name you’d like <3

________________________________________

Epilogue

“Love, did you fetch the candles from the closet?” calls Amberly. She wraps her scarf around her neck, stamping her feet into black boots. Outside, wispy fragments of snow are drifting through the air, and she can smell campfire smoke.

Remus’ voice echoes down the narrow hallway. “Where exactly were they, again? All I’ve found so far is a box with”-

“NO, don’t touch that!” yelps Amberly, kicking off her boots and bounding into the kitchen. “That’s not for till Christmas”-

Remus smirks at her, taking an exaggerated step back from the cupboard, hands raised in surrender. “Fine, fine. Didn’t see anything, I swear.”

She huffs at him, closing the closet door tightly and making sure the knob is tight shut. “Good. I still have to wrap that one.”

“I bet I can guess what it is.”

“I’ll smack you if you do.”

“Is it a new br”- Remus’ teasing guess is cut off as Amberly, trying to stifle a laugh, tosses his hat and gloves in his direction. “No guesses! You’ll find out tomorrow morning and not a minute before.”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine, fine.”

Christmas has come faster than either of them thought possible, the smell of evergreen and cinnamon rich in the air. Outside, the snow is already a few inches deep. Lily and James are waiting at their house for them to show up, so they can go on their nightly walk with Harry and Sirius to look at the Christmas lights. 

Remus is on new medication now, a different type of potion to blunt the edges that always pop up around the full moon. The werewolf that had gotten out had escaped from St. Mungo’s- a result of improperly brewed wolfsbane potion. From the exact same place where Remus got his. 

That hadn’t stopped Remus’ guilt, though. Or his apologies to Amberly, holding her close and promising that he would never, ever treat her that way again. She’d curled into his sweater and closed her eyes and felt, for the first time in a while, the safety of his arms. 

They had spent a week at home together, each of them taking off work, just to spend time with each other. To do all the things they had used to do before Remus’ health issues had begun to appear. Reading together, watching TV shows, baking countless boxes of cookies (the proceeds of which went directly to an overly enthusiastic Sirius). 

Amberly felt lighter, happier. Warmer. 

Her train of thought was cut off as Remus stepped in front of her, smiling, the box of candles in his hands. “Ready to go, love?” 

The door opened, and then they were outside in the snow.

Amberly smiled up at him and he gazed back down at her with all the love in his hazel eyes that she remembered. Standing on her toes, she grabbed the tasseled red-and-gold ends and pulled him in for a kiss.

And the snow fell on around them, and somewhere in the distance a Christmas carol began to play, and Amberly’s fingers closed around Remus’ in the warmth of his pocket.

[solivagant242]

losing you pt. 14

remus lupin x f!reader

warnings: blood, violence

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7 pt. 8 pt. 9 pt.10 pt. 11 pt. 12 pt. 13

amberly is used as the MC here since i used to write a lot of fanfics with her, but feel free to self-insert or use whatever name you’d like <3

________________________________________

Amberly’s shoes dig into the mud. There’s a stitch in her side as she halts beneath a tree, panting. Her palms are sweaty.

She can hear the werewolf snuffling around not far away. 

Their sense of smell is insanely strong. It’s not going to be long before he finds me, and then what?

The thought made her sick.

This is a person, you know. This is someone who has a life, this is someone who’s probably loved- I can’t hurt them-

The werewolf swipes at her over her shoulder, slicing through her sweater and leaving more blood on her arm. Screaming, Amberly drops to the ground and rolls sideways, beneath its legs, feeling filthy rain soak into her pants. 

She’s back on her feet, staggering, clasping a hand to the wound as the beast swivels to face her. It leans back-

Her hand flies up, the words of the jinx again on her tongue- but she hesitates, just for a second, just for a split second. This could have been Remus- I can’t, I can’t hurt it-

The thing’s claw closes around her throat.

Amberly feels her feet leave the ground as she’s lifted into the air, the pressure in her chest already suffocating. Gasping and choking, she paws uselessly at its claws- pain is slicing through her lungs-

Spots swim before her eyes. She can feel her mind going blank, dreamy, floating away, hands and limbs going numb as her body slackens-

“STUPEFY!”

Her eyes flicker to the side, tears welling out of their corners-

She knows that voice. 

It’s Remus.

Standing beneath the oak tree, wand raised, water dripping over his hair and face. His jaw is set like a stone as he screams the spell, body tense-

The werewolf drops like a stone, and Amberly falls with it, blessed darkness creeping in through the corners of her vision.

Remus’ hands are shaking as he shoves his wand back into his pocket and grabs Amberly out of the air. His reflexes are sharper, stronger tonight. He puts it down to the full moon. 

The full moon that has set the unconscious beast in front of them on the loose.

But all Remus can think of right now is Amberly. 

Cradling her in his arms, he drags her under the closest tree, brushing her hair back from her face. There are livid red marks on her neck from the werewolf’s claws. He fights a sob at the sight, fumbling again for his wand. 

“Episkey.”

The marks recede as though blotted out by pale paint. Amberly takes a gasping breath, coughing.

Tears are coursing freely down Remus’ face by now. I lost you once, I can’t lose you again-

He closes his hand around hers, squeezing her cold fingers tight. “Amberly. Please. Love, wake up, please wake up”-

Her eyes flutter open and fix on him.

Remus smears at his tears with his other arm, keeping his eyes locked with hers. “Are you okay? Please, just say something”-

Amberly’s hand closes around her wand. Elbow crooked, she points it at herself and croaks, voice raspy, “Anapneo.”

Oh.

Oops.

She takes a huge breath, coughing and choking, before that familiar, amused, slightly-annoyed-but-not-really voice says, “You never could remember that charm, could you?”

That Quidditch match we tried to play over the lake in second year, when Padfoot knocked her off and the Squid grabbed her…She nearly drowned, didn’t she? I had to give her mouth-to-mouth and that was when everyone started thinking we were together.

And then we were, and then we weren’t.

He looks into her eyes and she tilts her head and croaks, “Moony?”

Remus breaks down in tears right there in the rain. He scoops her up, holds her to his chest, kneeling in the rain and entirely forgetting the mud and water that’s soaking both of their clothes. Feels her heartbeat against his own.

I’m sorry.

I’m so, so sorry.

And Amberly’s arms wrap around his neck.

[solivagant242]

losing you pt. 13

remus lupin x f!reader

warnings: blood, violence

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7 pt. 8 pt. 9 pt.10 pt. 11 pt. 12

amberly is used as the MC here since i used to write a lot of fanfics with her, but feel free to self-insert or use whatever name you’d like <3

________________________________________

Rain is whipping over the cream-and-red tiles, mixed with bits of twigs and debris from the oak in the front yard. Glass is strewn about in shining streaks.

Standing atop the glass, its massive paws shaggy in the moonlight, is a werewolf. Saliva drips from its jaws, and Amberly swears she can see steam huffing out of its flared nostrils as it swings its head back and forth, sniffing the air. 

It’s dark in the kitchen. But she can see that it’s not Remus- it’s lacking the scars around its face and forearms, and its fur is a darker color than Remus’.

This is tremendously not reassuring, especially considering that the werewolf has caught her scent. With a roar, it charges forwards, lunging over the countertop, claws scrabbling for purchase.

“Impedimenta!”

The words leave Amberly’s throat at a screech as she throws herself to the rain-slicked floor and slides, bits of glass tangling in her hair, and slides beneath the werewolf. Its movements have become strangely sluggish, hampered even, as though something has tied blocks of cement to its feet. 

The jinx isn’t going to last, thinks Amberly mechanically as she pulls herself to her feet, seemingly in slow motion. I have maybe fifteen seconds. Twenty, if I’m lucky-

A crash rang through the air behind her, followed by a furious snarl. Plainly the werewolf had discovered James’ collection of DND figurines and- Amberly cringed- broken nearly a shelf and a half. 

Got to get out. Lead it away from Harry. Get out of the house-

She’s over the threshold and sprinting out into the storm without a second thought. 

Rain batters into her eyes and she claws her hair out of her face, spitting out a stray leaf. Where do I go- I can’t let it hurt anyone else.

Wolfsbane. To soothe it, just like for Moony-

Behind her, the door nearly flies off its hinges as the werewolf shoves it open and emerges, snarling, into the night. Its eyes seem to glow red through the fog. 

Amberly takes off across the street and towards the park a few blocks down, the one where Lily always takes Harry on the weekends. Her wand glows bright blue in her hand.

Behind her, a savage roar rings through the night.

[solivagant242]

losing you pt. 12

remus lupin x f!reader

warnings: blood, violence

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7 pt. 8 pt. 9 pt.10 pt. 11

amberly is used as the MC here since i used to write a lot of fanfics with her, but feel free to self-insert or use whatever name you’d like <3

________________________________________

A week later

Amberly is sitting next to the fireplace in her room, staring into the crackling flames. Baby Harry is asleep in his crib one room over. His slumbering frame is visible in the baby monitor Lily had pressed into her hand. 

The redhead and James are currently out at the pub, spending a much-needed night together. Harry has begun teething, and not all the silent charms on the planet are enough to keep the screaming baby quiet. Amberly has resorted to holding pillows around her ears. She can only hope that he won’t wake up- she’s gone through all her tricks to make him quiet, from levitating fruit above his crib to summoning frogs in the kitchen sink. 

It’s nearly ten p.m. Rain is slatting against the windows, pounding on the roof with a soothing rhythm that’s making her sleepy. The pile of books at her elbow sits neglected on the fuzzy surface of the rug. 

She can’t seem to concentrate on them. Or on anything, for that matter.

She hasn’t heard from Remus in two weeks. How much of that is due to James and Lily’s concerted efforts, she has no idea. Her new phone has yet to light up with a text from him, and she feels equal parts glad and hurt. 

Amberly rests her chin in her hand. 

Would it be worth it?

A lump swells at the back of her throat as she imagines What Used to Be: how happy they were, in their own little house, living with each other’s warmth never more than down the hall. She compares it to What It Is Now, the stark silence of her nights and the empty space next to her in bed. 

But there’s no yelling. There’s no one snapping at me when I try to help. There’s no one making me feel like absolute shit and worthless when I loved them so, so, so much-

Tears trickle down her face. I gave him everything. My first kiss, my first time, all the love I had. He was the first I ever had and I thought he would be my only. My forever. 

And now it’s all gone to shit. 

Someone is pounding on the front door. 

Amberly lifts her head, surprise slowly being replaced by fear. 

James and Lily wouldn’t knock to get in. She was the one who handed Lily her key before they left, laughing that you better not lose it, I don’t know how many Alohamoras I have left in me. 

She’s out of the room in a flash, stocking feet silent on the wood floor, ducking into Harry’s room and holding him tight. He fusses a bit, but a second later he’s back asleep with his face buried in her shoulder. 

Amberly’s heart is in her mouth as she backs away from the kitchen and the front door. There’s a vague shape outside, looming on the doorstep as though trying to look through the peephole. The lights are out in here- they can’t see me, right?

A wet snuffle. 

Like a dog.

Sirius?

Turning to the side so Harry is shielded with her body, Amberly creeps to the door, squinting through the rain-streaked window-

A massive paw smacks its way through the glass as though it’s nothing, clipping her arm and leaving bloody streaks through her shirt. Shards spray over the kitchen floor. Rain whips into the room. 

Amberly screams, a noise which she quickly cuts off as she backs up. Harry is properly crying now, tiny face red and contorted. She bounces him in an attempt to soothe him, holding out her hand for the familiar shape of her wand. The figure at the door is groping around, trying to grab onto the doorknob.

She sprints to the nursery and places Harry in his crib. Closing her eyes, she snarls the words of the spell she worked so hard to master, the one that- just like always- protected everyone but herself. 

“Protego totalum.”

In the blink of an eye, Harry vanishes. His crying is abruptly cut off, the only indication of his presence the ever-so-slight dent in the cushion of his crib.

Amberly turns back around and runs to the kitchen.