#I felt some guilt over being so slow with the last set of normal requests

[devildom-moss]

omg i wasn't criticizing you and your events overlapping or asking you to finish your fics faster either! 😭 i saw your poll on my dash and i was like how are they doing all this 🤯 so i guess i was kinda amazed and whole lotta confused and concerned... i didn't mean anything by it i swear 💔

Ah, I’m sorry, I was trying to find the right words to respond the first time but I think I picked the wrong ones.

I didn’t read the message in a mean way, but I’m also pretty bad at guessing tone and intent, so I did consider that it could be a criticism (which I think would have been fair because I definitely thought those criticisms myself). But I also figured it was more likely to be concern because I do (on occasion) worry people with my antics. (But that concern usually comes in the form of getting gently scolded by a friend or something)

I appreciate the concern - and the amazement - but it’s all okay.

I didn’t feel pressured by you to finish faster, either; I just feel the pressure internally. For the most part, I’ve been quite lucky in that no one has gotten too impatient with me.

I’m sorry. Please don’t feel bad or be worried about it. 🖤

[imagining-supernatural]

Save Us

Request: Heyyyyoooo! Could you maybe do a dean x reader where she’s always been the rock in the relationship, even tho he’s not that emotional either, but she’s just literally never upset or seems sad, but one day she has a nightmare and then that just kind of starts the ball rolling and she just kinda finally needs dean and he’s there and comforts her?

Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2428

-----

“We’ll be home in about an hour,” Dean’s tired, flat voice tumbled through your phone speaker.

“Hunt didn’t go well, I take it?”

“We got the ghost,” he sighed heavily. “But not before it got some more kids.”

Years and years of being just too late definitely took a toll on hunters. Dean grew up in the life, so it was his normal. But even though he constantly said it wasn’t a big deal, or he was used to it, you knew it was a lie. He needed his downtime. He needed comfort. And beyond his need for that reassurance, he deserved it.

“I’m so sorry, babe.” It was so hard to hear him so down when you couldn’t hold him. “How’s Sam doing? Think you can convince him to take the weekend off and not look for another hunt?”

There was a low murmur on the other end of the call while Dean spoke with Sam. A moment later, you were put on speakerphone, the background noise of the car becoming louder.

“How’s your leg?” Sam asked.

“I think it’s almost all the way healed. If you keep your laptop shut for the weekend, I should be able to come on the next hunt.”

Sam chuckled. “Fine, fine. Radio silent weekend.”

With that out of the way, you said your farewells and hung up.

Your leg was perfectly fine. The fracture was healed and you’d been working out on it for the last few days while the boys finished up a two week long hunting spree across the country. But using your leg as an excuse gave Dean the space to not feel like this break was because of him. He hated being the reason you all took a few days off. He hated feeling like the weak link.

So you let him think he was doing this for you, when in all actuality, you would be spending the weekend building him back up, getting his confidence and mental strength back to their normal levels.

*****

“Son of a bitch!” Dean yelled, his voice echoing across the warehouse. After cutting down the Djinn’s victim, you transferred her to Sam’s arms before setting off in search of your boyfriend.

The Djinn had gotten away and all three of you were feeling the disappointment and failure. But after the last few hunts had gone awry, you knew that Dean was teetering on the edge. Hell, you all were, but he took it particularly hard. He always felt responsible for everything that went wrong. And when everything went wrong for a solid four weeks in a row? Well… nothing you could say to him would be heard over the spearing self-hatred that was surely chorusing in his head right now.

“Babe?” It was probably best to announce your presence before touching him. You knew he wouldn’t ever hurt you on purpose, and you could definitely handle yourself, but you’d rather not have to dodge his pent up swing and add that to his guilt that he nearly hit his girlfriend. “Hey, Dean. C’mere.”

He shook his head, hand pressed against the wall, head hung low. “He got away, Y/N. I had him right here.”

“We’ll get him, Dean.” Padding over softly, you wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek between his shoulder blades. It didn’t matter that his shirt was damp with sweat. It didn’t matter that you had blood spattered on your cheek. All that mattered was that Dean knew that you were there for him. “Maybe not tonight, but we’ll get him.”

You could hear Sam talking softly to the two victims you’d saved, but chose to stay with Dean. Sam knew what he was doing. You and he had a lot in common when it came to dealing with failure. And right now, Sam had a job, so he would be able to make it until he was alone, or until the three of you collapsed in the hotel room.

Dean however…

His breathing was slowing and heartbeat quieting under your ear. When he took one, last deep breath and straightened out, you loosened your hold around him, but didn’t let go. As soon as Dean turned around, you hugged him close again, breathing a sigh of relief when his arms surrounded you and his nose nudged into your hair, breathing deeply.

He was going to be okay.

*****

“I’m sure it’s just a cold,” you said through a stuffy nose, buried in blankets on your bed. “You two go. I’ll be fine for the weekend.”

Dean took a step forward and you held up your hand to ward him off. You didn’t want him getting sick too. “I don’t mind staying here with you, Y/N.”

“And leave Sam alone? Last time you did that, he ended up taking off for a few days to see some author read her book for hours on end. The kid needs you, Dean. Who else will pull him from his geeky ways?”

“I think my sick girlfriend needs me too.”

“All that’d do is get you sick too. I’ll just take it easy for a few days, watch some Netflix, take some baths, eat some soup… I appreciate it, Dean. But I don’t want you to get sick.”

He sighed, giving in. “Alright. Fine. But I’m gonna be checking in so often it’ll feel like I never left.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

As he came closer, you knew it was pointless to try to get him to stay away. He wouldn’t leave without a kiss, even if it was just on the forehead. And, to be honest, you wouldn’t want him too. Looking up into his shining eyes, you gave him a weak smile. “Love you, Dean.”

“Love you too, sweetheart. Take care.”

You watched as he closed the door behind him before you sank back down into the pillows. It wasn’t even half an hour later that your chills turned to shakes and you barely made it to the toilet before upheaving the light breakfast you’d been nibbling on. With your head in the toilet bowl, you didn’t hear the squeal of the garage door opening or the heavy footsteps coming down the hallway. It was the fingers on your head, pulling your hair back from your face that would have made you jump if you’d had the energy.

“Dean?”

“I’m here, babe.”

“What about—”

“Sam called Charlie. She’ll meet him down in Georgia. I couldn’t leave my best girl alone while she was sick, so I just ran into town for a quick supply run.” Once he had all of your hair in a messy bun in his hand, he settled onto the floor next to you. “And I don’t want to hear anything about me getting sick.”

“’m glad you’re here.” Getting through a cold alone wasn’t a big deal. But when it suddenly became the flu?

The porcelain of the toilet was cold against your cheek; a stark contrast to the heat in your cheek. For nearly fifteen minutes, you sat there on the floor with Dean’s fingers tangled in your hair. When you puked all you had left to puke, you sat back against the wall with a sheen of sweat across your forehead. “Why can I keep fighting after literally getting shot in the leg, but a stupid virus knocks me out?”

Dean chuckled beside you, reaching up to fill a cup with water. “As badass as you are, sweetheart, you’re still human. Here, swish and spit.”

Just the slight movement it took to sit up and spit into the toilet upset your fragile equilibrium and triggered more dry heaving.

It was going to be a long few days.

*****

“Dean! Over there!” you shouted, pointing at the ghost that appeared behind Sam, who immediately dropped so Dean could shoot the phantom with rock salt.

Once the ghost disappeared momentarily, Sam resumed digging the grave. The pile of dirt seemed to grow and grow and grow, but the hole didn’t get any deeper. “Sam, hurry up!!”

“I’m going as fast as I can,” he gritted out, throwing another shovel of dirt on the pile that was now nearly as tall as him.

Three small kids ran out from behind the dirt pile just as your breaths started coming out in cloudy puffs. It seemed like your body was paralyzed. You tried to run to the kids, but couldn’t move as the ghost advanced on them instead. Desperate, you called out to Dean, trying to get him to shoot rock salt at the ghost for a brief reprieve.

But he didn’t respond.

“Dean!” You tried calling out again, again receiving no response.

The tell-tale sound of a shovel hitting a casket pulled you from your paralysis and you found that you could move again. Hinges creaked and you looked down in the hole that seemed to be a mile deep as Sam opened the casket. “Toss me the fuel and salt, Y/N!”

The fuel… the fuel… where the hell is the fuel? You looked all around you for the duffle bag that you swore was right next to you just moments ago only to see a patch of grass. The green grass shriveled into dusty brown specks before your eyes.

“Y/N!” Sam’s shout came again, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the grass particles that were carried away by the wind.

Suddenly, the three kids were right in front of you. Blood dripped down their faces and they spoke in concert: “You didn’t save us. Why didn’t you save us, Y/N?”

“No… no!” Backing away from the awful scene, you tripped and fell backwards, arms reeling as the grave Sam had just dug stretched into a seemingly never-ending fun house mirror effect. Children’s faces watched you from behind the mirrors, angry frowns morphing into chilling grins, damning you for your failures. Their deaths were on you. Further and further you fell, some unknown force pulling you towards purgatory.

Then you were standing in an old motel room. You gasped for air, doubling over. Equilibrium should have returned, but it was as if you were on a merry-go-round and the world wouldn’t stop tilting.

“Y/N.” Dean’s voice normally grounded you. But now? His deep rasp reached into your body and gripped your throat. Your air supply was cut off so suddenly that you couldn’t even gasp for breath. Those green eyes you loved so much glared daggers at you. “They died because of you. It’s all your fault.”

*****

“Stop it!” You shouted, waking yourself.

Dean’s head shot up from where he was bent over a laptop on the desk. “Whoa, Y/N.” As your chest heaved, struggling for breath, Dean hurried over. He immediately wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “Baby, you’re okay. It was just a dream.”

You shook your head. “No, no it’s–”  You cut yourself off and forced a deep breath in. Sure, the events were a dream, but the words? They were true. They were true, and they caught up to you. You’d spent so long shoving aside reality and focusing on the brothers and what they needed. What Dean needed.

Dean.

He didn’t need to deal with this. As soon as you could, you would fortify yourself again and push it all away. You’d be back to good again.

Another deep breath and you shook your head again, this time to clear your mind. “Just a dream,” you whispered, repeating his words. “Just a dream.”

“That’s right, sweetheart. Just a dream.”

You focused on Dean’s hand moving over your arm, drawing comfort from the familiar action. When you felt calm enough, you looked up at Dean, intending to thank him. But he took one look at your eyes and his brow furrowed.

“Sweetheart?”

“It was just a dream, Dean. I’m fine. I just… It’s the life, right?”

Calloused fingers trailed down your cheek and Dean brought his forehead to hers. “Sure, sweetheart. But that doesn’t mean nightmares don’t get to us.”

“They don’t get to you,” you whispered.

He sighed, breath disturbing the air between them. “Baby, they do. But I’ve got you. I get to wake up next to you and I remember that whatever the hell I’ve gone through and whatever I’ve fucked up in my life, somehow I’ve managed to do something right enough that you love me.”

“I do love you,” you murmured.

“Whatever your nightmare was about, whatever was said… Baby that’s not real. I love you. And that’s fucking real.”

For a long moment you sat in silence, just taking in the warmth and affection from Dean. Then you cracked a timid smile, taking the first step out of the tailspin that the dream had sent you into. “Since when do you say such pretty words, Dean Winchester?”

“Since the day I fell in love with you. And every damn day that I get to stand by your side and hold your hand and feel how much you love me.” His thumb traced over your cheek bone, drawing your eyes to his. “I don’t need to know the details about your dream. But if I can manage to deserve someone as amazing as you in my life after the shit I’ve done, then you sure as hell deserve sainthood just for putting up with me, not to mention for all of the people you’ve saved.”

“I didn’t save them all, Dean.” Your eyes fell from his as the kids’ faces from your dream flickered across the sheets in front of you.

“Baby, we couldn’t save them all. We tried every damn thing we could. Sometimes, it just isn’t possible.” Dean brushed his lips across your cheek. “You taught me that. Guess it was past time that you got that reminder, huh?”

You gave in and leaned against him, physically and mentally. “Pretty words from a pretty face. How did I get so lucky to have such a great boyfriend?”

“You think I’m pretty?” He smiled. “Cause I think those pretty words came from your pretty face first, sweetheart.”

His nose nudged yours moments before a soft kiss was brushed across your lips like a paintbrush feathering a sunset onto a canvas. The rumble of thunder in Dean’s voice settled you like a comforting weighted blanket. “‘sides, sweetheart… you saved me the moment I met you. If you can save a bastard like me, anything that tells you that you failed can shove it.”

Eyes shining, you fell into his eyes. “We saved each other, Dean.”

“Damn right, we did.”

[wearywinchester]

Not Going Anywhere

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When he nearly loses you, Dean finds he can’t stand the thought of that happening.

Requested by Anonymous: “May I please request a one shot of dean and reader with her having an internal bleeding. You know when the character seems fine but then boom they collapse and turns out they're not fine at all?? I LIIIVE for that shit... The shock, the realization, the worry....”

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: angst, injury, bleeding, shock, anxiety, mentions of alcohol, guilt, fluff

You sat slumped in the backseat of the Impala, exhausted from the hunt. Fortunately, it’d been close to the bunker, close enough that you didn’t need a motel room overnight. Close enough that the drive hadn’t been terribly long like most cases were. You felt like you’d been run over by a semi two times over, a certain weakness running through you that left you feeling less than okay.

You watched quietly as the rain came down and trickled against the chilled windows of the car, falling into each other as they raced down the glass before fresh ones took their place in an instant. It was gloomy weather, something you could have found yourself seeking comfort in on any given day, something that otherwise would have been cozy had you not felt the way you did.

But you did, and it wasn’t leaving any time soon.

Dean had the heat cranked up because he could see that you were cold, could tell by the way you wrapped your arms around yourself. The ache and burn in your stomach had yet to subside, Dean having cleaned your wound before setting off to go home earlier that day, but that didn’t stop it from hurting.

You were less than comfortable, as far from it as you could be as you sat behind Sam. You missed the way Dean had glanced at you in the rear view more often than not, his concern evident in the crease between his brows, deepening each and every time he looked. He saw your agitation, the way your face contorted in discomfort as you slumped against the seat. You couldn’t sit still even if your life depended on it, constantly moving in your seat despite the way the hurt in your abdomen is screaming at you otherwise.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so restless in your life more than you were in that moment, anxiety settling in heavily the more you sat stuck in that car. There wasn’t anything in particular for you to feel this way over—you’d ridden in this car more times than you could count for years, having sat in the very same spot for far longer than this trip has been before. You’d done it all before without fail, without a problem, but this time was different.

It was different and he knew it.

Any other time you’d start a conversation about any and everything, singing along with him to nearly any song that came on the radio for the sake of getting on Sam’s nerves. Any other time you’d take a nap if you were tired, especially on a day like that where the clouds and rain offered ample comfort to allow you to do so, but this wasn’t any other time. This time you looked like you were two seconds from hopping out at the next red light, and it didn’t sit right with him.

“Sweetheart, you okay back there?” He calls out over his shoulder.

You’re not even sure if the words came out of his mouth, not even sure if you heard him as you shifted your gaze. When he didn’t get a response he looked in his mirror at you, calling out your name once more with more concern than the last.

You sat up a little straighter, glancing at him with eyes squinted slightly in confusion. “‘M fine, De.”

He wasn’t entirely convinced of that, not even a little bit as you blinked, trying to gather yourself a bit more than in that moment as he turned down the road that led to the bunker. You had a habit of saying you’re fine when you’re not, and you’re so clearly the opposite and he finds himself grateful he’s home, you’re home. But that doesn’t soothe the worry boiling over in the pit of his stomach, clouding his mind of anything and everything revolving around you.

Your words were merely words as they fell from your lips, that feeling simmering within you feeling awfully bad as you sit there, as the impala descended down into the bunker’s garage. The fluorescent lights were harsh on your eyes, your wince inevitable as you fought the groan sitting in the back of your throat. Dean didn’t need to be worrying over you, though he surely already was.

You think you just need a rest, a few hours sleeping in your own bed would do you some good. It had to.

You hadn’t fully registered the fact that the car had come to a stop, put in park in its usual spot and it gave Dean enough time to round the back end of it before you tried to get out on your own. When he pulls the door open you’ve got that look, one that tugs at his heart because you look so miserable, so tired and defeated. He crouches down closer to your level as you sit there, watches as you take a deep breath to try and steady the race of your heart. To try and calm the queasy feeling in your stomach.

“Sweetheart?” He asks, eyes on you in search of any indication that you’d been listening. You were, you really were, but you were trying to get a handle on how you felt. “Baby, we’re home.”

You nod then, turning your head to look at him with a soft smile in an attempt to assure him you’d heard him. He stood to his feet and held his hand out, gentle as he helped out of the car. You tried to ignore the rush that came down over you the moment you got up, tried to swallow down the intensifying nausea that’d swirled around in your stomach just begging to come up. You tried your hardest and it was proving to be a challenge.

You were dizzy when you stood to your feet, almost overwhelming, but you were quick to balance yourself and you brushed it off. You’d been in the car for the past two hours, doing nothing but sit in the same position for the majority of that time and you’d yet to eat or drink anything. A little dizziness seemed reasonable upon standing in your mind, not to mention the way your head had been hurting for nearly the same amount of time as the drive home.

You felt his hand slip from yours in favor of wrapping around you to steady you, to help you as you walked but you shrugged him off just as quickly, flashing him a look.

“De, I’m fine. You don’t need to fuss over me,” you say, and the look on his face shows just how much he disagrees with you. You could see it with the dimples forming by the very corners of his mouth and the raise of his eyebrow.

“Y/n—”

“I’m serious. I just need a little sleep and I’ll be fine,” you say, smiling once more in hopes he’d settle down, but you knew he wouldn’t.

It took a few moments, but eventually he dropped his hand to his side reluctantly and eyed you carefully, cautious as he watched you walk ahead into the bunker’s hallway towards your shared room. He knew you better than you thought, better than you knew yourself. He knew you like the back of his hand, but you were just as stubborn as he was and that’s the problem.

You flickered between bouts of nausea and none at all, between feeling fine, like you said you were, and feeling like you’d been drug all the way home tied to the trunk of the Impala. It was something that worsened the more you dwelled on the feeling, something you wished would subside.

You felt a beat of relief upon seeing the golden eleven mounted on that familiar wooden door come into view just down the hall, could smell the faint scent of Dean’s cologne wafting over you as he walked by towards Sam.

You were almost there, then you could lay down for a good long while, tuck yourself into that memory foam bed that was unbelievably comfortable and smelled every bit like Dean, and rest like you’d been longing to do since the moment you left to come home that day. You could rest in the comfort of your shared space for as long as you needed to get better. You were almost there.

But you weren’t.

In that moment, you felt like you were miles away from your destination, you felt like the conversation the two of them were having just a few feet away had been miles away from you, their voices muffled far more than they should be for how close they’d really been to you.

You slowed yourself to a wavering stop for a minute just to gather yourself a little more than you were then and there, reaching out for the wall that was just a little farther than you anticipated it to be. Your ears began to ring slightly, gradually, as that same nausea made its unpleasant return in your stomach, eyes squeezing shut just for a moment. You weren’t aware of just how awful you looked in that moment, but you knew it couldn’t have been too good if it was a reflection of how you were feeling in that very same moment. To be quite honest you felt like you’d just run a marathon with the way you couldn’t catch your breath, with the way your heart had been hammering within your chest at a faster than normal pace.

You felt like a walking, breathing disaster, and sure enough, you looked like it too.

Dean’s brows furrowed when he followed Sam’s gaze, to you, to you who stood there unsure of yourself as a flurry of emotions flashed over your face within a second’s time. A number of emotions, none of anything positive being displayed and it intensified the worries he’d had running through him. A sheen of sweat had glistened over your skin despite the chill that ran through you, your vision doubled as you opened your eyes once more to try and give Dean a glance.

“Y/n?” Your name fell from his lips, soft and hesitant at first as the initial confusion took over, his mouth going dry as he approached you.

“I’m…” you start, nodding your head as you swallow thickly. “I’m fine, Dean. I just…"

Your words were failing you, your ability to form a coherent thought failing you in that moment as you lost all means of balance, teetering on the edge of collapsing before you’d gone and done it. The shout of your name had come off as an echo to you, the impact of the floor having been cold and unforgiving as you fell, too weak to catch yourself.

He hated just how limp you felt in his arms as he knelt beside you, the pain jolting through him from dropping to his knees on the concrete floor having been the very least of his concerns as he watched you. Panic had lanced through him as your head lulled, caught in the crook of his arm as his other hand grabbed your face. Despite the sweat gleaming across your skin, your cheeks were void of any heat that you’d expect to feel and it only added to his upset.

“Y/n!” He called out, your brows furrowing as you felt yourself go from bad to worse, a steady declining feeling blanketing you. “Sweetheart, stay with me.”

His voice was loud, carrying through the winding hall in an echoing display of his fear, the sound taunting him as it bounced off the walls. You nodded weakly, despite the way your heartbeat hammered loudly in your ears enough to muffle what he’d been saying to Sam, or the way you couldn’t hold yourself up if it weren’t for the way he held you. Despite that, you nodded for him.

That ache from the wound you’d walked away from that hunt with was still very much there, that you knew. You knew things didn’t look good for you in that moment, not with the way Dean looked at you as if his heart had been ripped from his chest, or the fear in his eyes when he’d pressed his fingers to the side of your neck, your pulse faint but bounding beneath his fingertips. Things were continuing to go from bad to worse, to far beyond that and you knew that wasn’t a good sign.

You knew it the moment that feeling hit you in the car an hour earlier and the panic you felt was only increasing the more you thought things over.

You should have said something then, you know that now. You should have stopped saying you were fine when you so clearly weren’t, should have stopped doing what you always do and downplay a situation in fear of thinking about the outcome. You should have known better than to think it’d be as easy as Dean patching you up, not after what that spirit did to you. Nothing in hunting is ever as good as it seems, as easy as it seems, and you should have said something earlier.

Because now, now you were quite sure you were facing your fate when you didn’t have time to prepare for it. And that’s what scared you the most. It could have been something trivial, that’s what you’d been longing for it to be, but you knew it was just your own denial telling you that.

“Dean,” you say, taking a breath as you look up at him. The green eyes you loved so much were filled with a kind of emotion you never liked to see. “I—I just want you to know—”

“No, no c’mon. We’re not doing this sweetheart, okay?”

Nausea hit him like a ton of bricks at the sight of the crimson that slowly began to stain your teeth when you coughed, rage bursting through him in waves over the situation he doesn’t know how to control the ending of. Over the fact that he doesn’t think he can control the outcome for the love of his life in his very arms. He knows nothing in this life is guaranteed, not for the life of someone who hunts the world’s worst monsters.

He’s lost so much in his life, but damn does this one hurt.

“I don’t feel so good,” you murmur instead, watching the expressions flicker across his face through half closed eyes as you groan, brows furrowing at the expression he’d been looking at you with. “What is it?”

He couldn’t tell you what he saw, he wouldn’t do it.

“I know you don’t,” he says softly, chuckling despite it being void of humor, running his hand over your head. “I know you don’t but you’re gonna be okay, you hear me?”

All you could do was hum and nod, a soft noise you can’t quite tell had left your lips as the weight of your eyelids grew heavier and heavier. You were tired, that much was true. But he tapped your cheek with his hand lightly, grabbing ahold of your face.

“Don’t do that,” he urged, “please, don’t do that.”

He looked to Sam, a mirrored look of panic looking back at him that didn’t do much to soothe his stresses.

He feels near paralyzed when his gaze drops to you again, your eyes closed. He’d grabbed your face and called your name till his throat felt like sandpaper, till it felt like he swallowed a thousand knives he shouted your name. He held you tight in his arms as his mind worried in a frenzy of fear, calling out desperately for the one person that could help.

Cas.

If there was one thing that Dean Winchester knew how to do, it was worry. He’d worry himself to death over the ones he loved, in fact, there wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t do to keep them safe. But worry is what he’d done for the last two and a half hours and nothing else.

If it was possible, one might think he’d wear a hole in the floor from his pacing at the foot of the bed in the bunkers infirmary. Cas had come in a moment’s notice much to Dean’s relief, had swooped in quite literally and healed you the way he hoped you could be.

It turns out that spirit had done more than just graze you, had gone a little deeper than either of you had thought. It turns out you’d been bleeding more than just on the surface, and that it hadn’t actually slowed to a stop once he’d patched you up back there. You were bleeding this whole time, you just didn’t know it until it almost became too late.

It all made sense now, the way you were acting in the car. The restlessness, the agitation and the way you couldn’t sit still. He knew there was something wrong even when you refused to admit it, and he hated it when you did that. Hated it when you kept your pain to yourself when you really didn’t need to, in favor of staving his worry and trying to be independent, and that’s something he knew well.

But that wasn’t the point, the point was you were lying there in that bed almost within an inch of your life had Cas not come. The point was he nearly lost you in his arms and he couldn’t help the blame that sparked and burst within him that maybe he shouldn’t have believed you when you said you were fine. He didn’t, but he felt he should have kept pushing, kept prying to get you to admit it. Thinking that maybe he should have known there was more to that injury by the way your face crinkled up when it happened, by the way you fell to the floor for a moment or two before you stood back on your feet.

He felt like this was on him, and it was tearing him up from the inside out.

Dean ran through a myriad of emotions that night, each one hitting harder than the last. He was scared, the mere thought of losing someone he found himself rapidly not being able to see himself living without having scared him more than he’d care to even admit. He was angry, his fear masked behind clenched jaws and hands running through hair, chairs kicked and chest heaving. Angry at himself for not having gotten to you sooner back there.

It was a never ending cycle of fear and anger and guilt, a cycle he felt he’d always feel in one way or another so long as the ones he loves keep getting hurt when he feels he has the means to prevent it somehow.

For the better part of that two hours, apart from the anxious pacing, he sat at your side as you rested. He was reluctant to leave your side should something happen again. He couldn’t handle that and he knew it. He sat there with his elbows on his knees, chin in his hands. He held your hand for a while, thumb absentmindedly brushing over your knuckles as his foot tapped and his knee bounced subconsciously.

For the better part of that two hours, the events of what lead up to that point had replayed in his mind over and over in a taunting loop, having worsened the feeling he held each and every time it restarted. Each time he recalled something more in the way you’d looked in the car, in the way you acted, in the way you felt in his arms.

Cas had to tell him a million times over that you’d be okay. That wound on your stomach had been healed, everything had been healed as though it was never there. He told him a thousand times over that you were stable, you were okay. You were okay, but he couldn’t find it in himself to get over it just yet.

The last time Cas had said it was when he believed it, it was when he couldn’t be in that room another second otherwise he just might crack. He couldn’t bear to see you laying there like that, no matter the fact that you were just fine. It made his stomach churn and twist in knots.

He left, the stack of lore books swept off the table in the library in his wake, a string of curses leaving his lips. He went to your shared room first, the door slamming roughly behind him. He was angry at no one else but himself despite the fact that he shouldn’t be, but he’ll beg to differ on that a thousand times over.

When you woke up, the infirmary was empty. You’d seen the chair at your bedside that hadn’t normally been there. And if it wasn’t telling enough of Dean’s presence, the weight of his jacket splaying warmly overtop of you was sure to make it all the more obvious he’d been there.

You were sore as you sat up, stiff from having been laying in the same position for an amount of time you were sure of. But, when you lifted the hem of your shirt, that burning wound had no longer resided where it’d been. That nausea had since dissolved, that headache had gone away for the most part, and the weakness you felt, the dizziness, it’d all gone away. You knew it was done with the help of no one other than Cas.

You were sure Dean had been there with you for quite some time, but you also knew Dean better than to think he’d handle it well. You knew by the way you’d woken up by yourself that he’d handled it horribly. He gets worked up over injuries that are on a smaller scale, but this, this was far different than that. Inches from meeting your fate had been much too different than that and you knew he’d disappeared to sulk by himself.

You sighed when you pushed yourself off the bed, leaving the empty infirmary before navigating the bunker. The sight of the books splaying messily across the floor had been an indication of something you already suspected, the quiet in the air having added to the tension only followed when one of the three of you had been angry.

Your bedroom was empty, the blankets stretching over to his side of the bed having been wrinkled some from where he’d been sitting. A photo of the two of you had been sitting there on the nightstand, half-tucked under the base of the lamp sitting lit atop it, the drawer not closed all the way.

The Impala was still in the garage where he’d parked it hours ago, a frown tugging at your lips at the sight of the very hallway everything had taken place.

You knew where he’d be at this hour, at one where everyone should be asleep. Sam had been, you were sure of that, but if Dean hadn’t been in either of those places, you knew where he’d be.

A knowing sigh left your lips as you stepped down into the kitchen, the very one you’d been looking for sitting at the table. You saw the bottle of whiskey on the table and you saw the glass in his hand. You saw the way his hair had been a ruffled mess and you saw the ivory of his knuckles as he held that very same glass. You knew that all too well, you knew he’d been all sorts of torn up inside. He was.

“Knew I’d find you here,” you say, his head turning at the sound of your voice.

You could see the relief flooding his expression as he looked up at you, at the way his eyes widened and the way his face lit up just a little bit more than before, though it didn’t take long for the crease between his brows to deepen once more as you sat down next to him. He’s quiet for a moment before he presses a lingering kiss to your temple, and another as his next words are murmured against your skin.

“Sweetheart, you should be in bed, you’ve been through it today.”

You could hear the fatigue in the softness of his tone, could feel his nose brush against your temple before he turned away.

“Without you?” Your words are lighter as a soft smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.

He chuckles, half-humorous as he shakes his head, swirling the whiskey around in his glass. He swallows thickly, thoughts weighing heavy on his mind as a million words sit on the tip of his tongue. You knew a little humor didn’t do much to stave off that feeling he held.

“‘M fine, Dean.”

“Don’t say that,” he says, head shaking before he brings the glass up to his mouth and swallows the rest of his drink, pouring himself another.

You saw the way his eyes were rimmed a pale shade of pink. Dean Winchester wasn’t one to cry too often, but you could always tell when he had been. His eyes were red and so was the very tip of his nose, flushed a soft pink and the quiver in his lip hadn’t quite left just yet.

“I’m serious, Dean. I’m okay.”

“Well you weren’t a few hours ago, Y/n. You were damn near dead,” he says, louder than before as his jaw tenses.

“Well I’m not,” you counter, the huff that puffs through his nose an indication of his frustration.

“I’m glad this is just another day to you, Y/n.”

He brings his hands up to his face, rubbing over it in frustration as he sniffs. You saw that quiver just a little more now, one he hid behind his glass as he tipped his head back and drank it.

“For cryin’ out loud you still got blood on your teeth, Y/n,” he says, softer this time as the tension in his jaw loosens.

You sigh softly, more so to yourself as you stay quiet for a moment or two, your tongue swiping over your teeth before you bite the inside of your cheek. You can see the emotions flicker and roll through him, can see the guilt written clear across his face to match the feeling simmering in the pit of his stomach. When you got up, he’d expected you to just walk away, though instead you find yourself leaning atop the wooden table.

You snag the glass from the loose grip he had on it, setting it aside as he drug his hands down his face.

Your shoulders drop a fraction as you look down at your hands for a moment, foot tapping quietly against the floor. When you looked at him, his gaze was on the table, the inside of his cheek between his teeth. You bring your hand up to smooth over his hair before your palm settles on his cheek, thumb brushing over his chin. His eyes lift to yours, weary and upset.

You don’t fail to miss the way he leans into your touch no matter how subtle, or the way the clench in his jaw dissipates the rest of the way before your hand drops to your lap.

“There was nothing you could’ve done differently back there, De. No matter how much you think otherwise,” you say, watching that tension return as he looks away. “I know that’s what you’re thinking right now, but I’m still here. Now you don’t have to believe me on this, and I know you won’t, but you were there when I needed you the most. And that’s the only thing that matters to me. So you can be mad at yourself all you want, you can blame yourself all you want, but I’m not blaming this on you.”

He sat quietly, simmering in his own silence with closed eyes as his chest heaves a bit more than normal. You swipe your thumb across the crease between his brows, smoothing it softly as you watch the way he bites the inside of his cheek. Dean Winchester’s got a whole lot of stubbornness in him, but a whole lot of softness no matter how many layers of anger and frustration and worry sit atop it.

You move from the table after a beat of silence, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He relaxed under your embrace, more so when you dipped down from behind him and pressed a kiss on his cheek, one more for good measure.

You don’t know what to say for a little while as your head rests against his, arms dangling over his shoulders as you clasp your hands together loosely. You know for a fact he’s still beating himself up for this, that was something you knew was unavoidable. But that was something you could handle.

“Come to bed, De, it’s late,” you murmur, kissing his cheek once, twice, three times.

He hums at first, nodding his head. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

You let him go with a soft squeeze to his shoulders, spinning on your heel as you sigh softly. But it doesn’t take more than a mere few seconds before you hear him move around.

“Sweetheart, wait.”

You turn around once more, brow raised in curiosity.

He’s hesitant for a moment before he crosses the room in a couple of steps, arms around you in an instant. You wrap yours around his neck, his embrace near bone crushing as his face tucks into your neck. His stubble is rough against your skin, the softness of your smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. He’s got fistfuls of your shirt in his palms, holding you close as you stand up on your toes.

“What do you say we ditch hunting for a little while?” He mumbles into your neck, your soft laughter immediate as you lean back to look at him. “Don’t want you dyin’ on me again, sweetheart.”

You bit your cheek for a moment as you shook your head, fighting a smile. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Winchester.”

He rolls his eyes, looking to the side as he fights the beginnings of his smile. “Yeah, well, I’m good with that.”

The tension he held minutes ago lessened some, his expression softer as he looked down at you. You lean on your toes and kiss him softly, lingering just over his lips for a few seconds before kissing him once more with a smile as you speak up.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @campingmonkey @agalliasi @deandaydreaming @lanea-1 @akshi8278 @kidd3ath

[childeaether]

scholarship.

cw: 18+ only, zhongli/f!reader, professor/student relationships, camgirl au, dragon dildo fuckery

wc: 2.2k

zhongli sighed as he shrugged off his jacket and loosened his tie with his free hand. he was exhausted. today’s lecture had been a long one, and his class was definitely going to need a curve on this upcoming test grade. he’d tried to help them understand the topic. he’d tried assigning a lighter workload. none of it worked. it was like teaching to a brick wall.

he needed to decompress.

he grabbed his laptop and sat on the couch. there was already a box of tissues and a bottle of lotion on the end table. he’d anticipated this. it had become an obsession recently.

he opened his laptop and typed the url into the search bar.

angelsofteyvat.com

he knew this website well. it had started satiating his cravings at 9 pm every day for the last month. he almost wished he’d never found it.

glazedlily is now live!

right on time.

he quickly clicked on the profile and joined the livestream. and there you were, all dolled up, wearing only your bra and panties. it was a beautiful, light pink lingerie set. you looked stunning. there you were.

his star student.

“welcome to the live, guys!” you said with a smile. he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. he unzipped his dress pants.

“how are we today?”

phoenixrising: good how are you

knightk: horny

rockyalchemist: doing better now

zhongli rolled his eyes as he scrolled through the comments. he hated being associated with these losers. hated that you might see him the way you see them.

lapisrex: been a long day, baby. how are you?

he swore he saw your eyes light up. which made sense. he knew how expensive college was; he was a generous tipper.

“i’m doing okay, lapis! sorry you had a long day. hopefully, tomorrow will be better!” you said. his breath caught in his throat.

knightk tipped $5!

you rolled your eyes. “c’mon, k, i haven’t even done anything yet!” you giggled. you didn’t need to do anything. you could sit there and stare at the camera; you would still get tips. even from zhongli.

but you were a hard worker. he knew that. you were top of his class, for god’s sake.

“so, what are we thinking tonight?”

phoenixrising: do you know how to do self-bondage?

knightk: i need that bra off asap

zhongli already had plans for the night, though.

lapisrex: i know it’s last minute, but are your private sessions open?

he watched you pause as you read the comment, your eyebrows furrowing. fuck. he definitely should’ve asked in advanced.

“hmm.. normally i’d say no, but you are one of my favorites, lapis. how much?”

his heart was beating so fast, he thought it might beat out of his chest.

lapisrex: $1,000. i’m willing to go up.

your jaw dropped in surprise. “well, shit, i can’t say no to that.”

he knew you couldn’t. your next school payment was coming up in a week.

knightk: does that mean ur ending the live??

“sorry, but yeah. love you guys! always! but i could use that money. so, unless you guys can do better...”

knightk: $1,010

rockyalchemist: $1,500

zhongli rolled his eyes. as if he could be outbid by these randos.

lapisrex: $2,000

he watched as your eyes widened. just like a deer, frozen by approaching headlights.

“okay, that’s enough!” you said. “lapis, the private session is all yours. sorry, you guys! i’ll see you for the next one!”

before anyone else could comment, you ended the live. a bright red notification flashed on his screen as he received your message.

glazedlily has invited you to video chat!

he joined almost immediately, only pausing to make sure his webcam and microphone were both disabled. he couldn’t risk you finding out. it would ruin you both.

“hey, lapis!” you said happily, clasping your hands together. “it’s our first private session! are you excited?”

he was practically levitating.

lapisrex: very.

you grinned as you read the message. “alright, well, what are you feeling tonight?”

he was feeling many things. guilt, arousal, infatuation-

lapisrex: can i see what kind of dildos you have?

“of course! give me just a sec.” you stood and walked off camera. he heard shifting for a moment, and then you returned with a box about the size of your lap.

“okay, so we’ve got a few,” you said as you shifted through the toys, “what size were you thinking?”

lapisrex: the biggest you have

you giggled, and your smile lit up his laptop screen. “well, aren’t you confident?” you teased.

he was.

“the biggest one i have... it’s a little unconventional,” you said sheepishly, a blush dusting your cheeks.

you reached into the box and pulled out a big, thick, oddly shaped dildo. it had an orange tip that faded into yellow, and then into a dark brown at the base. but it didn’t look... normal.

oh.

it was a dragon dildo.

“this big guy hardly ever gets any action. his name is orochi,” you said. “it really came with that name. i don’t name my toys.” your laughter made his chest tighten.

and god, your hands were so tiny compared to it. they could barely cover the base. he felt his hand travel to his dick.

“i know it’s kind of fetish-y, though, so if you don’t like it we can try something else.”

and normally, he’d say, no - let’s try something else. don’t fuck yourself with that dragon dildo.

but everything you made him feel surprised him, every time. you looked so beautiful. he’d fantasized countless times about you looking up at him like you were at the camera now, your eyes sparkling, one of your bra straps falling off your shoulder. a dick in your hand. he wanted to pull those lace panties to the side and fuck you senseless.

he wanted to watch you fuck yourself with a dragon dildo.

lapisrex: no, i like it.

the smirk you gave to the camera made his dick twitch.

“wow,” you said, amused. “i didn’t think you’d be so kinky, lapis. you’re always so tame during my lives.”

you made him feel anything but tame. you made him succumb to the most carnal, primal feelings he’d ever known.

“alright, before i lube this fucking monster up, any other requests?”

just one.

lapisrex: can you call me professor?

lapisrex: if you’re comfortable, of course.

you raised your eyebrows. “damn, you are kinkier than i thought, lapis,” you said. “oh, my bad. you’re kinkier than i thought, professor.”

something in him snapped in half. jesus fucking christ. he had dreamed of this. of you on your knees, looking up at him with those big, beautiful eyes. whispering his title. dreamt of whispering back a simple, soft-

lapisrex: good girl.

-before, ideally, fucking your throat.

you reached off camera to grab a small bottle of lube. he watched as you poured some directly on the toy, and then spread it with your hands. he’d never been so jealous of a dildo in his life.

after you’d deemed the dildo lubed enough, you poured a bit on your fingers. you looked shyly into the camera. “just wanna make sure i’m fully prepped,” you said, and reached down to take off your panties-

oh.

he’d dreamt of this, too. of laying you on your back against his desk, reaching up your skirt, pulling your panties to the side. taking his sweet time with you. gently, slowly scissoring his fingers in and out of you, watching your face contort as you refused to look at him. you really could be so shy sometimes.

“okay,” you said finally, positioning yourself above the dildo. he took his cock into his right hand. “here goes nothing.”

he had to stifle the groan that left his throat just watching you sink slowly onto the tip. you bit your lip as you winced, pausing to adjust to the stretch. “sorry,” you panted, “it’s… really big.”

fuck. did you have any idea how fucking sexy you sounded?

lapisrex: don’t apologize, baby. take your time.

you shot the camera an appreciative grin. his heart squeezed.

slowly but surely, you sank yourself all the way down to the base. even with the generous amount of lube, he was impressed. you were a determined girl. it made him want to split you open himself.

“fuck, professor,” you gasped, “i feel so… full.”

he couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting into his hand. you really had no idea what you did to him.

you leaned back onto your elbows, giving him the perfect view of your pussy, stretched around the base. god, you were so fucking beautiful. “i think i’m ready to start now,” you said. your face was flushed, your eyes already starting to glaze over. he’d seen you like this before, during your lives- but this was so much better. seeing you like this for him was so much better.

you were looking into the camera with those same puppy dog eyes you gave him in class. the same ones that sparkled when he called on you during a lecture. the same ones that looked at him with such adoration as he explained concepts to the class.

you slowly pulled the dildo out by the base before cautiously working it back in. you cringed ever so slightly. he wanted to be there with you. he wanted to stroke your hair and whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you adjusted to the feeling.

lapisrex: you’re doing so good, baby. take it slow if you need to.

you whimpered as you continued your gentle thrusts. “thank you, professor,” you said softly. there it was again. that dazed, sinful look in your eye. he knew you liked to be praised long before he found your profile. you always flushed when he complimented your work.

your mouth fell open into a silent moan as you gradually sped up your thrusts. “oh, god, it’s so big,” you groaned, “it feels so fucking good.” you threw your head back as you brought your free hand to your clit, rubbing soothing circles while you increased your speed.

zhongli was fully fucking his hand now, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. you were addicting. with a particularly hard thrust, your back arched, showing off your fucking perfect tits. his mouth was practically watering.

“shit, i’m- i’m close, professor,” you gasped, followed by a whine as you circled your clit faster. his cock ached.

lapisrex: not yet.

you let out a desperate sound, still fucking yourself at the same speed. “please, i can’t- i can’t hold on for much longer,” you cried. “it’s so… intense.” you took your hand away from your clit and brought it to tease one of your nipples.

he wished he could break you down like this every night. you were always so calm, so composed. and so damn smart. it had to be exhausting. he wanted to relieve you of all that stress. to turn you into his pliant, brainless slut- even for just an hour.

“professor, please,” you begged, sending a pulse through his cock. he was getting close, too. he’d been stroking his cock so long his arm was starting to hurt. “please, professor, i can’t-”

lapisrex: why should i let you cum?

lapisrex: do you deserve it?

a pathetic whimper escaped you. “yes, yes, i- i’ve been good professor,” you nearly sobbed. just hearing the desperation in your voice was almost enough to send him over the edge. you were right. you had been so, so good for him.

lapisrex: hmmm.

lapisrex: okay, baby. you’ve been good. you can cum.

you threw your head back and sighed in relief. you returned your hand to your clit and thrust the dildo harshly in and out of you. finally, your toes curled; your back arched. “ohh, fuck,” you groaned loudly, “thank you, professor- thank you, thank you.” you were babbling now, riding out your orgasm as your cunt clenched around the dragon dick. zhongli’s vision blurred as he roughly stroked himself over the edge. he didn’t even bother to muffle the gravelly moan that ripped from his throat.

when he opened his eyes, there was cum all over his hand, and some on his laptop screen. you were on your back, still lazily circling your fingertips over your clit. your legs were shaking.

you looked angelic. he longed to reach out and pull you close, to kiss the top of your head. his heart ached in his chest. he knew what he was doing was wrong. but he couldn’t help himself. you were enchanting, and he was only a man. only another fool in love.

you sat up. “wow,” you breathed, “that was… fucking incredible.” you giggled, clearly fucked out. “thank you, professor. i mean- i guess, lapis, now.”

you carefully dragged the dildo out of you, wincing slightly. “i... i really needed that,” you laughed. “i hope you got your money’s worth, too.”

you were worth the earth, the moon, the stars.

lapisrex: absolutely. you were so good for me.

lapisrex: thank you, baby. i hope we can do this again soon.

the smile on your face was genuine, just like the ones you flashed him during lecture that day. a warmth bloomed in his chest. “of course, lapis! you’re one of my favorites, remember?”

he wanted to be the only one.

“okay, professor, time’s up. i’ll see you again soon.” you smiled one last time into the webcam and then you were gone.

he sighed, leaning back on his couch.

how was he going to look you in the eye on monday.

[guardianofrivendell]

Reckless

Meludir x gender neutral reader

Requested: Yes! Anon asked: “Hello, can i please get a oneshot between meludir and reader where reader is injured from an orc attack and meludir is looking after them?”

Warnings: I tried to write something fluffy, I really did, just a normal fluffy kind of oneshot but the force of sarcasm and sass is too strong! 

A/N: I didn’t know Meludir that well, and there isn’t much information about him besides that he’s from the Mirkwood guard, so I just went with my own interpretation of his character. This was also a request that was long overdue (by now all of my requests fall into that category, I AM SO SORRY).

“I can’t believe we’ve waited so long,” Meludir chuckled, gently wiping the hair out of your face.  

You were both relaxing together at the edge of the forest, right at the other side of the bridge where the trees stopped and the palace grounds began. It was one of the more quieter spots in the kingdom, away from all the hustling and bustling of the palace, but still close enough so you would notice if something was wrong. Your sense of duty as a member of the Mirkwood Guard was never far away, even if you had some time off.

Meludir was sitting with his back against a tree, your head resting in his lap, your eyes closed. One of his hands was intertwined with yours and the other one was now lazily going through your hair. For a moment it felt like it was just the two of you, and time stood still. 

“Maybe we were a little too blind to see what was right in front of us,” you said in response, and brought the hand that was going through your hair to your lips to kiss it, marveling at the softness of his skin. “But I’m glad our eyes finally opened, Meludir. I don’t think I could have gone another day dancing around each other, meleth nin.”

Meludir hummed softly and placed a kiss on your forehead. “I could not agree more. Gi melin, mîr nin. An uin.” (I love you, my treasure, forever)

He then started singing to you, his voice soothing and barely above a whisper. You focused on the caresses of his thumb on your hand, and when his fingers started gently scratching your scalp, you felt yourself slowly slipping away. 

“Sleep, meleth nin. Sleep, my one true star.”

The high-pitched scratching of a chair dragging across the floor pulled you out of your more than pleasant dream. 

You desperately tried to focus on the last images which were still lingering in your mind but alas, the loving words sung by Meludir were slowly replaced with the soft thumping of a massive headache and your head was no longer resting on his comfortable lap but on a fluffy pillow instead. Which was also nice but, you know, not the same. 

Someone took your hand in theirs, followed by a soft squeeze. No, no, no, you weren’t ready to wake up yet! You weren’t done with that dream! Who needed the cruel reality where your best friend was just that, your best friend - with the emphasis on friend - while in your dreams he was your intended? So hello dreamworld it was! 

You tried to turn on your side so you could try and go back to sleep, but as soon as your right leg shifted just the tiniest bit, a shot of pain went through it, setting it on fire and making your body go rigid. 

Okay, so moving was a big no no. What happened to you?

You inhaled a little deeper to try and breathe through the pain, when the scent of herbs and starched linen filled your nose.  Wait a minute... The pain in your leg, the smell of herbs and linen…  This was not your own comfortable bed you were lying in! 

You were in the healing wing! 

Okay… Maybe you should open your eyes and check? Just to be sure?

But you were rather comfortable if you were being honest - if you didn’t count the slight throbbing in your head and your leg that was still hurting - and as long as your eyes remained closed, you didn’t have to deal with the aftermath of whatever happened to you. 

Better make the most of it and try and sleep some more! 

But alas… there was no rest for you when flashes of what had happened shot through your head, making you forget about the pain for a moment. 

You had been on a patrol through the deeper parts of the forest with your friend Meludir and a few other guards when you’d stumbled across a couple of spiders. Despite being far outnumbered by the vile creatures, you came out victorious, but you couldn’t prevent some of the less experienced guards from getting hurt. While you were taking care of their injuries, Meludir had spotted an orc pack in the distance. 

So of course you had to go after them… By yourself, leaving a very upset Meludir with the wounded. You’d deal with him afterwards. He will come around eventually, he always did. That’s why you were such good friends. 

You were all about impulsive decisions. It’s what made you join the Mirkwood Guard in the first place and usually that turned out for the best. This time? Hmm… not so much. 

You were caught off guard during the fight and suffered a stab wound in your leg because of it, there were simply too many Orcs for you to face alone. Oh you could almost hear Meludir’s ‘I told you so’! While you were distracted trying to get the dagger out of your thigh as soon as possible - afraid it was poisoned - one of the remaining Orcs saw its chance and charged at you. Your reflexes were too slow and you failed to deflect the hilt of his sword. That’s when the lights went out. 

“Y/N?”

Another squeeze in your hand. 

Seriously, how impatient can someone get? You were sleeping! Or trying to, your leg was still hurting after all. Didn’t they teach them how rude it was to wake a sleeping, injured person? Not good for the healing process! 

But the sounds surrounding you were getting louder, reverberating against the insides of your skull and making your head throb even worse. Guess that blow to your head actually did do some damage there. Better keep those eyes closed for a while longer, you thought. 

But you were also curious, and you couldn’t help trying to concentrate on the sounds closest to you. You could hear a voice talking softly to themselves, it sounded oddly familiar, it had sung to you in your dream not ten minutes ago. Meludir…

You suddenly remembered who exactly you were dreaming of a few moments ago. Oh Eru, you didn’t talk in your sleep right?!

“I know you’re awake, Y/N.”

Yeah, that was Meludir alright. You could almost hear the smirk coming through his voice. The hand covering yours was probably his too. 

Oh, he was not going to like this. He’s probably worried sick, or angry. Or both. Either way, you were in trouble. 

You opened your eyes a little to take a small peek. If there was even the slightest hint of anger on his face, you were going to pretend to be asleep for a little while longer.

Meludir seemed relaxed at first sight, his elbows were resting on his knees, his hands holding onto your left one. He was still wearing his uniform, covered with blood stains from the encounter with the spiders, and you noticed some black Orc blood as well. But he was unharmed, thank the Valar. 

His dark eyes were already staring at you as soon as your eyes met his, boring into yours with such an intensity that you couldn’t help but look away in shame...  Busted.

“I can’t hide anything from you, can I?” you tried to joke, trying to assess his current mood. He looked like he was relieved to see you awake. This might not be so bad after all.

Oh how naive could you be...

“Now that you’ve finally opened your eyes...” he began. 

The relief that was etched on his face slowly turned into anger. Uh-oh. 

“What were you thinking, Y/N?!” he whisper-shouted, smacking your arm. 

“Hey hey, no assaulting the injured!” you protested, grasping your arm.

“Your arm is fine! Wish I could say the same about your leg and your head,” he huffed.  

You rolled your eyes and let go of your arm. 

“Both are still attached to my body so clearly you are overreacting, Meludir!”

“I am overreacting? Who exactly went after an entire Orc pack by themselves?! You! And without even telling me, you just ran off!” he ranted, seeming to forget he was in the healing wing. “You could’ve died, Y/N!”

“But I didn’t,” you countered. 

Meludir rushed to stand, his swift movement unbalancing the chair. 

“But you could have! I could have lost you!” he snapped, his hands going through his dark hair in frustration. 

You didn’t know if he said that last sentence to himself or not, but this was the first time you saw him in such a state and you didn’t know what to think of it. 

You hated it when Meludir was angry at you. He just had to get it all off his chest, you knew that, but that didn’t mean you liked it when he yelled at you.

One of the healers nearby reprimanded him for raising his voice, and that seemed to calm the Mirkwood Elf a little. He looked at you apologetically.  

“I’m sorry I yelled at you, I was just- Never mind…” He took a seat on your bed this time, carefully as to not hurt your leg. “Tell me, how are you feeling?” he asked, taking a deep breath. 

Oh. Okay, we finally have worried Meludir. That’s a good thing. You could work with him.

“Killer headache and as long as I lie still, I should be fine. I’ll be back up in no time.”

“You had me- and us, you had us worried there, Y/N.”

Meludir’s hand wrapped around yours again. Weird, since when did you guys start to hold hands this much?

“Awww, you were worried about me?” you teased him, trying to ignore the strange feeling in your stomach when you looked at your joined hands.  

“Y/N, I found you unconscious and bleeding on the ground with Orcs leaning over you. Of course I was worried!” he raised his voice, his eyes wide in concern. “You were out for several hours!”

After a few seconds Meludir let go of your hand and sighed. 

You finally got a good look at him and you noticed his hair was messy, some strands sticking to the side of his head. He looked tired, you didn’t think you ever saw him tired before. He was a complete mess. Very unlike him.

The poor Elf had probably been at your side the whole time. Guilt started settling in your stomach.

“I’m sorry I made you worried,” you apologised, “I’ll be more careful next time.”

Meludir chuckled. “Yeah, we both know that’s not going to happen.”

You lifted your head a little to look around, and you were surprised to see the other beds empty. Where were the other guards?

“How are the others?”

“Some scratches and minor injuries, a few spider bites. Nothing the healers couldn’t fix. You were worse off than them,” he smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

You let your head drop back into the pillow dramatically, relieved to hear the others were fine. But something still bothered you.

You rolled your head to the side to look at him and pointed at his chest.

“Why is there Orc blood on your uniform?”

“Well, someone had to finish what you started.”

Is that a smirk you saw? The cheeky bastard!

“Oh, just you wait until I get back on my feet, I’ll happily remind you who’s the better fighter,” you challenged him. 

“That’ll take some time, the healers said you can go to your own chambers once you wake up, but…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, instead looking at you in apprehension. 

“What? What’s with the dramatic pause?”

“You have to stay off guard duty for at least two weeks. Orders from the healers and King Thranduil.” 

“What?” you gasped, and you winced when you sat up a little too fast and careless, hurting your leg in the process. Your hand flew towards your thigh and you saw Meludir’s hands doing the same. 

“Don’t hurt the messenger! Or yourself!” he joked, but you didn’t miss the slight hint of fear and worry in his eyes. Good.

“Meludir,” you whined, dragging out his name, “you don’t understand! I’ll die out of boredom!”

“Your wound needs healing, Y/N. You cannot use your leg and you need your rest.” 

He grabbed your hand and traced your knuckles with his thumb. 

“And in the meantime I’ll be there to take care of you.”

Oh. Oh.

Well in that case...

He squeezed your hand again, and smiled at you. It lit up his entire face, and you couldn’t help but mimic his expression. Maybe with him as your private nurse it wouldn’t be so bad after all. The prospect of being carried around by Meludir all the time made it all seem almost enjoyable. 

“But before I carry you to your chambers, I need you to explain something to me first, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course, what is it?”

The corner of his lip twitched and his entire demeanour changed. 

“Why did you call me ‘meleth nin’ in your sleep?”

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje​ @kata1803​ @entishramblings​ @artsywaterlily​ @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose​ @marvelschriss​ @kumqu4t​ @myrin1234​ @dark-angel-is-back​ @the-fandoms-georgie​ @lathalea​ @xxbyimm​ @sokkasdarling​ @katethewriter​ @aredhel-of-gondolin​ @leethology​ @elvish-sky​ @moony-artnstuff​ @kirenia15​ @hey-its-nonny​ @moarfandomtrash​ @beenovel​

[watermelonlipstick]

Three, Two, One

Working through my list of requests, I was really grateful to be able to fulfill this one from anon, who asked: 

I have ptsd, and really loud, sudden noises and sudden touches can make me have a panic attack, so can you do something where there’s a really loud noise or someone touches the reader and sends her into a panic attack and Dean helps her?

It felt a little too obvious to go with a gunshot here. I’m also imagining this set in early seasons both for aesthetic and for Bobby’s house. Hopefully it’s something like what you were hoping for!

Title: Three, Two, One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (can be read as platonic or romantic)

Word Count: 1069

Summary: Dean grounds the reader after a panic attack brought on by a loud noise. 

Warnings: oblique description of panic attack, description of loud noise

           The way he was right in front of you at virtually the same second the car backfired almost made it worse at first, to be honest, filling your field of vision as he’d flown out of the front seat of the car where it sat in Bobby’s salvage yard.

           “Shit, I’m so sorry, I thought I’d fixed it—here, sit down,” he said, guiding you over to a folding chair on the edge of the garage. You let him ease you to the metal, feeling the heat and pounding starting to build in your head already. Dean crouched in front of you. “Water? Let me get you some water.”

           He was back in a flash with a plastic bottle, sweating so much in the humidity that the paper label on it hung loose and ugly. You took it from him with a shaky hand once he’d cracked the cap off, and took a quick sip more to feel the coldness in your mouth than out of any real thirst. Dean reached out to pat your thigh and pulled back at the last second like he’d been burned, remembering that sometimes touching you made it worse. “Can I—um?”

           You nodded, grateful for his asking and worried if you spoke you wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears. His palm over your knee was just this side of too hot, beach sand baked in the summer sun, and you tried hard to bring yourself back to reality, focus on that point of heat seeping through your jeans.

           “1 to 10?” he asked, gentle but firm as he fell into his script.

           “7,” you answered honestly.

           Dean nodded, just once, almost to himself, flicker of a quirk at one side of his mouth gone so fast you might’ve missed it. If you weren’t clawing to keep yourself above water you might’ve been able to appreciate his pride in heading off the worst of it by his rapid action.

           “I’m right here, you can close your eyes. Not going anywhere,” he continued in that poundcake voice; soft, sturdy, and sweet. Through trial and error you’d found that skipping to the three—three things you could hear—of a 5-4-3-2-1 grounding strategy was better for you; less risk of a surprise touch to add to the panic at its worst and increased contrast from whatever loud noise that had triggered it slowing the reins of your mind faster, letting you grab ahold and take control again. If you closed your eyes you could focus even harder on those small sounds, but so often it was impossible to beat back the anxiety enough to let you do it—this was one of the things Dean had been working on with you, ability to give the burden of watching out to him when you were buried in the tunneling foxhole of your mind. You tried your best to take a deep breath and let your eyelids slide shut.

           Three things you could hear.

           “Deep Purple.” Either the battery on the car was still good or he had that old boombox somewhere in the garage.

           “Underrated as always. That’s good; another?” he encouraged.

           “Windchime on the back porch.” Just a light twinkling; just barely below breeze to make the weather perfect.

           “Damn, you can hear that? I need to stop cranking the stereo so loud. Just one more.” Even knowing he was intentionally putting in the casual commentary, it helped to latch onto the light, easy conversation.

           “Cicadas.”

           “Annoying as hell, right? Okay, now two.”

           Two things you could smell.

           “Motor oil, you.”

           You could hear the smile in his voice even with your eyes closed. “And what do I smell like?”

           “Sweat, Old Spice, Coors Light.” And that little underlying note you could never place; the closest you’d ever gotten being a kind of sweet leather—leaving a cupcake in a hot car, maybe—but you were already at five things, technically. Feeling a touch of the panic start to lift, you were able to give him a weak facsimile of your normal cheeky smile, keeping your eyes closed as he chuckled gently.

           “Yeah, you love it,” he teased. “One?”

           One thing you could taste.

           “I don’t know, chapstick, maybe?”

           “I’ll call an audible and say you can swap for something you can feel,” he offered when you couldn’t think of anything.

           “Your hand on my knee.”

           He waited a beat for you to try to regulate your breathing before saying anything else. “1 to 10?”

           “3.” You opened your eyes to see him where you knew he’d still be, unmoved from his crouch on the weedy gravel in front of you. He still looked a touch concerned but primarily his face was open and hopeful as he searched your expression for more clues on how you were doing. “I’m good, sorry,” you sighed on the tail end of another deep breath, relishing the relative loosening of your lungs from a few minutes before.

           A smirk spread across Dean’s face, whites of his teeth impossible contrast to the light tan he’d gotten in the last couple weeks and spray of new sun-dyed freckles across his face, especially with the smudges of grease he had from working all day. “Nothing to be sorry about, kid. Should’ve double checked before I had you come check it out, that’s on me.” There was a shade of guilt there, and you wrapped your fingers around his hand where it stayed on your knee, giving him a little squeeze.

           Clearly that wasn’t enough to assuage Dean’s guilt, but what ever was? He held your gaze for a second before easing up to standing, grabbing a wrench out of his back pocket and tossing it in the general direction of a toolbox before wiping his hands sloppily on the back pockets of his jeans and rubbing the close-cut hair at the back of his neck. “Can I make you a sandwich? I’m starved.”

           It was another apology and fighting Dean about it wouldn’t help; the sandwich a continuation of the rapid response to your panic attack in that it was a manifestation of the best way Dean knew how to show affection/gratitude/apology, that wrap-you-in-a-blanket, take-you-under-my-wing care always so much easier for him than putting into words what he meant.

           You let him have it. “Yeah, a sandwich sounds good.”

           The way he smiled in response as he held out a hand to pull you up and sling an arm around your shoulders would’ve been enough to make you eat 20 sandwiches.

           One thing you could taste.  

-

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

Tags: @sams-sass @vxnderlindes @deanwinchesterswitch @akshi8278 @itsjensenanddean @flannellover67 @weepingwillowphoenix @tj-drinks-tea @whatareyousearchingfordean @winchest09 @winchestergirl2 @samwisethegr8 @nurse-sarahrn @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love @deanwanddamons @stressedoutkitten @winchestershiresauce @tatted-trina6 @percico-heronstairs @downanddirtydean @queenoftheunderdark @lyarr24 @wonder-cole @that-one-gay-girl @fairlyspnfanfic @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @mimaria420​ @jensengirl83​ @zooaliaa​ @superfanficnatural​ @deangirl93​ @katelynw93​

And as always, if you want to be on my taglist, were on the taglist and changed your handle, or I lost track of it, please let me know!

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper -Pt 14

Paring: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader Warnings: just a bunch of fluffy family fluff, some dude being a nosy creep, overbearing mothers Length: 1.1 k Notes: This one is slow, babes. Just needed to build a bit of this new world, introduce Annie a bit and show you how things are progressing. It’ll pick up again soon I promise, bear with me! (Or don’t, I mean I can’t force you to like where this is going, lolz) Also, just typed this up tonight while raging at the laziness of men, so there are going to be mistakes, I can’t be fucked to find them. Trying to post this with NO links, as I’ve heard that may be the reason for the tagging issues? LET ME KNOW IF YOU GET THE NOTIFICATION THIS TIME!

Turns out, two people with zero child-caring experience are not going to have an easy time suddenly becoming parents. There wasn't any one particular thing that you could pinpoint the difficulty one, either, it was just a complete one-eighty on how you had previously lived your lives.

Frankie immediately stopped working such late hours, effectively putting a bookmark in the cider's expansion. He didn't even have to think twice about it, it was a no-brainer to him. Didn't make the loss of potential income an easy pill to swallow, though. Date nights were officially off the schedule, so were sleepovers and all the fun things that accompanied them. There had been a few heated moments between the two of you, but Frankie felt weird about having sex anywhere near his daughter and you refused to let him fuck you in the barn. Again. Especially after the last two times resulted in unfortunate splinter placement. 

Annie took less time to adjust than the two of you did, she really was an amazing little girl. She loved her little nook in the loft, although the décor was not to her taste and she wouldn't stop dropping hints about it until you took her to pick out new everything. Frankie had tried to put his foot down by explaining she wasn't going to get everything she wanted in life, but all it took were widening eyes and a protruding bottom lip before he was handing you the truck keys before you could blink.

Annie's attachment to you had surprised everybody, including her. The conversations you and Frankie had had before her arrival usually skirted around the conversation of what your role would be. You knew she was mourning her mother and were wary of trying to replace her, so you had fully expected to take a step back from Frankie's life while he and Annie built their new one together. You had her at apple farm, however, and now the two of you were best buds.

Well, until the six-going-on-sixteen attitude reared its ugly head and suddenly sweet, angelic Annie was replaced by a stubborn, moody, unwilling child who decided that screaming was the best response to negotiations.

For the first couple of months, Frankie had allowed it, not knowing what was normal acting-out behaviour for a kid who had experienced parental loss. He also had a hard time being strict, as he still felt like it wasn't his place; some weird kind of imposter syndrome. However, after Jacquie and Mark had been witness to one such episode, they had gently pulled Frankie aside and encouraged him to find a therapist for Annie and that structure and rules would be beneficial for her.

New routines were set, some of which you were involved in and others were special between Frankie and his daughter. Saturday was movie night, she was asleep by 7:30 so it was more of a movie evening, with popcorn, Twizzlers, and coke floats. You were invited to these, as Annie insisted on educating both adults on which Disney princess was best.

Frankie drove Annie to school every day, he knew he could easily send her on the bus but he needed that extra assurance that she had gotten to school safely. There had been an odd incident, which no other adults seem to have witnessed, where a man had apparently approached Annie and started asking her questions about her parents. 

This had, understandably, upset the girl, and the two of you, but the busy body's identity was never revealed. Frankie had been irate. Initially, he interrogated Annie, asking her for every little detail. Then the bus driver, parking lot attendant, teachers, and other kids were subject to his questioning. He went so far as to request all security video footage from around town, but nothing showed up. Neither of you suspected Annie of lying but it was like the man was a ghost. 

Eventually, it was chalked up to a parent wanting to get the scoop on your and Frankie's lives, as you'd been very private considering your first action as a couple was to practically dry hump on a carnival ride. After that incident causing Frankie's panic attack, and now creeping out a kid, you were a lot less inclined to appreciate the meddling from bored townsfolk even if it did bring the two of you together.

Frankie was always thinking up new ideas to build trust and create new memories for Annie, his guilt at missing out on her toddler years was exasperated by having her now. They created a memory book for her, so she could write down, colour, or paste anything that reminded her of her mom or her life in California. You were secretly building a memory book for the two of them, to show Annie when she was older how hard her dad had worked to become the man she needed him to be.

Twice a week Annie got to pick the recipe and they made dinner together. This usually resulted in a massive mess and only semi-edible food, but the smiles on their faces were worth it.

On Wednesdays, you picked her up and had a girl's afternoon getting something from the bakery and perusing books at the library, making up stories about the people walking by the café windows, or driving over to Jacquie's so Annie could play with her kids.

It was after one such outing when you were dropping Annie off at the farm, that Frankie came out to greet you with a guilty look on his face.

"I'm sorry," he began, rubbing the back of his neck and readjusting his baseball cap. "I didn't look at the caller display before picking up, and then once I was on the phone I got nervous."

"Frankie," you said lowly, dread filling your stomach. "What did you do?"

"I couldn't help it, I panic talked and I don't even know how much I blurted out! She's like Oprah or Barbara Walters! She just knows how to get people talking!"

"I know, Frankie," you ground out, trying not to lose your shit in front of a very interested little girl who has no filter during Sharing Time at school. "That's why we don't answer her calls!"

"But, babe, she's your mom. We can't keep ignoring her-"

"Apparently not!" You didn't realize how frustrated you were before it was too late. Your voice had gone shrill and loud and, judging by the look at Annie's face, angry. Taking a deep, calming breath in you tried smiling at the two of them without it making you look demented, "I need to call her and do some damage control, make sure she doesn't do something rash like-"

"Ahhh..." Frankie was back to looking guilty and you could have sworn your heart stopped. "She knows about Annie. Called herself Grandma. Said that Mother's Day would be extra special this year..?"

"FUuuuuuudge.." you barely managed to withhold the swear, looking at Frankie with a slightly panicked yet amused look on your face.

"It's okay," a little voice piped up, "I know that word. Mom said ‘Fuck’ all the time while we were stuck in traffic."

Part Fifteen - coming soon!

TAGS: Let’s see if these bitches work...

@rebelliouscat @pedro4ever @speakerforthedead0 @yespolkadotkitty @ilikechocolatemilkh @weirdowithnobeardo @pedro-pastel @disgruntledspacedad @a-skov @trash-dino-5000 @reader-s-cantina @alberta-sunrise @pascal-rascal424 @bts17army @sarahjkl82-blog @grogusmum @radiowallet @vonschweetz @greeneyedblondie44 @diaryofkali @cassandras-nest @silverstarsandsuns @haapeaness @missstef23 @computeringturtle @julesorwhatever @keeper0fthestars @lackofhonor @metahigh @thirstworldproblemss @sergeantbannerbarnes @callsigncatfish @inaturenymph @agingerindenial @pedritobalmando @lord-of-restingbiface @marydjarin @sebbys-girl @apascalrascal @thisshipwillsail316 @bison-writes @absurdthirst @ubri812 @marydjarin @inaturenymph @hyperfixatingmenever @louderrthanthunderr @petersunderoos96 @dobbyjen @tobealostwanderer @studyofawearymind @jaime1110 @bison-writes @rosiefridayrogersunday @leias-rebelion  @captainjaspenor @prettypedros @gracie7209 @peterhollandkait

[imgoingtopluto]

Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry Potter x Female Reader

Hello, if you would like me to make different one-shots for male or gender-neutral characters please let me know! My Request is open!

ALSO: I did not realize how long this one-shot would be… sorry about that. And yes… I did use a line from Supernatural, I have no shame.

“Last night when my psyche’s

Subcommittee sang to me in its scary voice

You slowly dropped your eyelids

When true love takes a grip, it leaves you without a choice.”

Golden Trunks, Arctic Monkeys

    It has been hard to do anything these past few months. I knew how wrong it was to keep Harry in the dark about everything that has been going on. I knew it was wrong for different members of the Order to be watching over him without his knowledge. I knew he was going to be pissed when he finally figured out what was going on. And I felt that Ron, Hermione, and I are the ones who are going to get the brunt end of his anger. I couldn’t seem to do anything else but pace back and forth in front of a large, dusty window. My mind never seems to be at ease, constantly going over the fictitious scenarios I made up throughout the day.

             The moon shone through the curtains illuminating my skin, the humid summer breeze danced along with the curtains. I could smell rain throughout the air and could faintly hear the rustling of the trees and the grass. I sighed and turned around and my eyes were beginning to burn from lack of sleep. Before I could reach my bed however I heard the sound of a door closing quietly and a set of footsteps going down the stairs. Being as curious as I am, I decided to see who was up as late as I was. When I reached the dining room I was greeted by a dark, empty room. Before I could investigate any further however a voice rattled me out of my state of confusion.

               “Y/N is that you? What are you still doing?” A familiar voice greeted me.

     I gasped and jumped around quickly, a man with dark, coarse-looking long hair greeted my line of vision. My heartbeat started to slow and my breathing returned to its normal pace.

     “I uh… just couldn’t sleep,” I replied sheepishly.

      “That makes two of us,” Sirius replied.

        I felt awkward for some reason, I couldn’t look him in the eye. I didn’t know why I suddenly felt this way Sirius and I have gotten along great these past few months. So why didn’t I know what to say to him now?

       “So… you want tea? I’ll make it.” I offered. The first thing that popped into my mind was tea… I needed some sleep.

         “Sounds good.”

Timeskip: 10 minutes later.

      Sirius and I didn’t exchange many conversations, we both opted to sit in silence and the low flame sizzled in the room. A few candles were lit, saving us from burning out eyes from the lights above us. A shrill whistle of the kettle snapped me out of my thoughts and I quickly poured the boiling water into the cups below me. I set them on the table and then sat, I looked down at the cup and watched the steam swirl among the air.

         “So what kept you up?”

           I looked up at Sirius and let out a breath before answering.

           “Oh I don’t know… guilt, a little voice nagging at the back of my head telling me what in the hell am I doing?”

            Sirius laughed and looked at me sympathetically.

            “All of this just feels so… wrong to me. I can’t be the only one who feels this way… right?” I asked.

            “You’re right. I can’t help but think that we’re handling this the completely wrong way. But, I guess we have to trust Dumbledore.”

             “I don’t think I do.” Sirius’s eyes shot open in shock, it didn’t look like he knew what to say.

             “I mean, how in the hell do you think that keeping the person who has experienced all of these things in the dark during a time like this is a good idea? I think the person who has experienced Voldemort’s tactics the most is the person we need right now.”

             “Y/N… Dumbledore must know what he is doing.”

              “You’re going to tell me you agree with every single idea he’s come up with?”

              “I’d be lying if I said I did.”

              “It’s not like I don’t want to trust him but… Harry has been through so much this past year. This whole operation you guys have going on with watching over him is going to set him over the edge. And him finding out that his 3 best friends have been here the entire time is just a cherry on top of the sundae.” I snapped.

              “Y/N… wait how did you about that?” Sirius asked in surprise.

               “The twins have extendable ears… don’t tell Mrs. Weasley”

               “Your secret is safe with me anyways, he’s going to be fine Y/N.”

               “That’s not the point Sirius… the point is he’s going to feel like we’re distancing ourselves from him. I know him… he doesn’t want this. If I was in his shoes I would be pretty pissed too.”

               “Listen, when the time rolls around for him to join us down here, I am sure everything is going to take care of itself.” Sirius, his voice trying to sound as calming as could be. I sighed and looked away again, I felt guilty for going off on a tirade.

                “You’re right… I’m sorry I didn’t mean to snap I just-”

                “No, don't worry about it… I get it. Lily acted the same way.”

                 I stuttered to his reply, not knowing how to function.

                “Wha-what? No, it’s not like that at all… I need to… tea I mean sleep! Yeah, I need to sleep right now ugh I am so tired all of the sudden.” It was a total lie, I had felt more awake than I had all night, my rapid heartbeat of mine kept me going.

                 “Y/N… come on now, I was around those two long enough to see how much they loved each other. Oh, do I remember the time we came back from this party… We had a bit too much Fire Whiskey and James decided to conjure a fire for the common room. He instead ended up with his arm on fire somehow…”

                “Oh, my Godric…” I couldn’t help but laugh.

                “We got it out in time, however had a few burns and the only person we could go to at the time was Lily, and boy did she lay in on us. She reminded you just then…”

                  “Why couldn’t you just go to the hospital wing?” I said, trying to diverge the attention off of me.

                  Sirius let out a guilty-sounding chuckle before continuing.

                   “We may or may not have been under 17 when this Fire Whiskey was consumed…”

                    “Sirius…”

                    “Do as I say, not as I… did.”

                    We sat for a bit more, our neglected tea got colder with each passing second. I sat up, my eyes began to burn again, the clock on the wall read 3:28 AM.

                 “I better get some sleep… got another room to clean tomorrow…”

                “Yeah, you better get to bed…”

                “Thanks for hearing me out about everything… I appreciate it.”

                 “Hey don’t worry it was no trouble.”

                  I turned and left the room. I quickly turned back around, however, wanting to say one more thing.

                 “I hope when all of this… mess is over that you get to finally live a normal life. If anyone deserves that it’s you.”

                  He smiled at me before replying

                  “Thank you…”

                   I then left the room ready to succumb to the sleep that was sure to consume me.

                 By the time I had woken up the sun was burning bright through the white… grey-ish curtains. I winced and closed my eyes again, not wanting to begin my day of work again. That didn’t last long however as my extremely bushy-haired friend interrupted my plans. She dragged me down the steps into the dining room. I didn’t realize I had slept in so long until a rather large ham sandwich and a bowl of soup were placed in front of me. I was talking with Hermione and Ron when an owl flew into the room. Mrs. Weasley unwrapped it from the bird's leg, her face dropped.

                 “Oh my god…”

               “Molly, what's wrong?” Remus asked.

               “Kids, get out of here… all of you.” We compiled without protest, we could tell that whatever was going on wasn’t good. We didn’t need Mrs. Weasley’s wrath upon us.

               “We had just made it up the stairs when the Twins came out with a pair of extendable ears.

               “Fancy a listen?” Fred said with a devious smirk on his face. He lowered the ear onto the ground. It was nestled right on the door crevice.

               “He got attacked by dementors? How!? We had someone to keep watch at all times!” Sirius exclaimed.

               “I’m sorry I have blood in my ears, did he just say what I think he said?” I replied, my tone must’ve been deadly as everyone looked at me in slight fear.

               “That’s not the only thing… he got expelled! He used magic outside of school.” Mrs. Weasley continued. I couldn’t listen anymore at this point and storm away. I got into my room and slowly slid down the wall, the bright, blue sky mocked me in its cheerfulness. I didn’t know how long I was sitting there before Hermione and Ron came in.

                “This is exactly why I said Harry should’ve been here from the beginning,” I said, they both looked reluctantly at each other.

                 “Well, they’re getting him tonight,” Ron replied.

                   I clapped sarcastically and rolled my eyes.

                 “Wow, get him when he gets attacked by dementors and is expelled from school… 10/10 plan! You know, if he was here, to begin with, we wouldn’t have to worry about any of this at all.”

                  “But Dumbledore said…” Hermione started.

                  “If someone makes an excuse for Dumbledore one more time my head is going in that wall over there!”

                “C’mon Y/N, mom wants us to clean out that one room,” Ron stated. I sighed and got up following the two of them out of the room.

               I felt as though I was on autopilot throughout the day. I scrubbed the disgusting walls in the so-called room. No matter how hard I scrubbed away at the gunk another layer would make a way in its place. When we had finally finished cleaning that room we immediately made our way to Hermione and I’s room. We all sat around nervously waiting for Harry to come. We had just been pecked viciously by Hedwig and when she finally stopped we were able to retrieve the letter tied around her leg.

            “If Hedwig is any indicator of how Harry is feeling we are screwed.” I finally spoke up. My prediction turned out to be correct, he was furious with us. Hermione almost cried, Ron was attempting to defend our actions but wasn’t very successful. I just sat by the window in silence letting him rant away. Thankfully the twins saved us from any further interrogation.

              Timeskip: After dinner

             “Hey, I was wondering if I could go out for a walk for a bit,” I told Mrs. Weasley.

             “I don’t think that’s a very good idea, dear…”

              “Please, I've been stuck cleaning this house for 4 days… I could use a break.”

             “I’ll go with her.” I could hear Harry say from behind me.

             “Uh…”

            “C’mon Molly let them go out for a bit, they've been stuck in here all day.” Sirius jumped to our defense. Mrs.Weasley glared at him quickly, she then sighed and relented to our request

            Harry and I seemingly jogged toward the door and exited the house immediately. It felt nice to breathe air that wasn’t surrounded by heaps of stale chemicals and dust. We walked in silence, I didn’t know what to say to him.

            “You know, I don’t think you’ve said a word to me this entire time I’ve been here.”

            “Yeah, I guess I haven’t… I’m sorry about… everything.” I bit my lip and try to stop the tears from leaking out of my eyes. My face had begun to burn from me keeping them in.

             “Why didn’t you try to write to me?”

             I laughed slightly before answering.

            “Do you honestly think I didn’t try? I wrote you tons of letters… but everyone checked to see what I was writing before I sent it. I even tried sending it to you the muggle way but Moody caught me damn it.”

            “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” Harry muttered, he had his head turned away from me.

             “Don’t worry about it… if I was you I would’ve acted the same way.” 

            I didn’t know if it was from today or everything that had been going on the past months but the dam in my eyes broke and I had begun to cry.

           “I’m s-s-so sorry.”  I stuttered out, a choked-up sob released from my throat a few seconds after. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears and my breath stuttering.

             “Hey… it’s okay.” I could hear Harry say, he sounded panicked as if he didn’t know what to do. I felt myself being pulled in for a hug

             “No- no it’s not…”

             “I don’t blame you for anything that’s happened… and I should’ve known that you wanted to write. I just- I don’t know what's going on with me I just snap sometimes.”

            “I can’t say I haven’t done the same thing… your godfather deserves a medal for the rant I put him through last night.” We both laughed and I slowly began to calm down, the tears stopped but my breath still stuttered on the occasion. We pulled apart from our hug and stared at one another.

           “Are you okay now?” Harry asked hopefully.

           “You ask me that after all the stuff you’ve been through?”

           “Well, yeah,” Harry said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

            “Why?”

            “Because I care about you, You were the one who always had my back no matter what…”

            I smiled at him before kissing his cheek and hugging him again.

           “Thanks, Harry.” I pulled apart from him and stared at his bright green emerald eyes, we both then slowly lowered toward each other's lips. It was as if someone else was controlling my body, we both slowly leaned toward one another and we kissed. When we both pulled back we both seemed to be in a state of shock.

             “I- I don’t think I am ever going to get used to that.” Harry stuttered out.

             I laughed at him before answering him

             “I don’t think I am going to either…”

             The end… I hope you guys liked this. It took me a while to write!

[alisonsfics]

If We Started Dating

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Reader

Summary: Y/N normally sits alone on the jet rides home, but this time Morgan invites her to sit with him

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: Y/N experiences a lot of guilt and blames herself for how the case ended. Derek comforts her and assures her it was not her fault.

Normally on the jet rides home, you would sit by yourself. It was just the way that you were able to process each case. You would sit and listen to music or read a book. But you never sat with the rest of the team. It was your time that you set aside to just relax and think.

The rest of the team had seemed to notice this, and never questioned it. They knew everyone coped in different ways.

However, this case wasn’t like any case the team had ever helped on. This case had a terrible ending, and it had ended bad because the team had made some bad decisions.

So especially now, you were sitting alone on the jet. You were looking out the window, just thinking. You were thinking of every other possible outcome that could have happened, it you all had made the right call. You couldn’t help but feel like it was all your fault. Your job was to protect people and you felt like you had failed at that today.

You put in some headphones and tried to drown out your thoughts. You felt a knot form in the bottom of your stomach. You felt absolutely sick to your stomach. You happened to glance across the aisle and saw Derek sitting there. He had headphones in too. You both made eye contact. He mouthed “you okay?”.

One of the downsides of being a profiler and having friends that were profilers, meant they always knew what you were thinking about.

You gave him a weak smile and mouthed the words “I’m good”. You were sure that you hadn’t convinced him at all. He nodded in response. He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press you any further.

You closed your eyes and listened to your music, but you couldn’t get the faces of the victims out of your mind. You took your headphones out and placed them down. You stood up and quickly walked into the bathroom.

You felt sick to your stomach. You got a paper towel damp in the sink. You pressed it to your forehead, trying to make your nausea go away. You put your hands next to the sink and just looked down. You tried to breathe in and out.

Then, you heard a light knock at the bathroom door. “I’ll be right out” you responded. You figured someone actually needed the bathroom. Then you heard Derek outside the door. “It’s me babygirl, open the door” he said, kindly.

Derek and you had always had a special bond. He was the first one that you met on your first day. He introduced you to everyone and gave you tips on how to get on everyone’s good side. Since then, the two of you were always at each other’s side.

You always had each other’s back, in the field and in everyday life. The only time you two weren’t together was the jet rides back after cases.

You put the paper towel in the trash can and then opened the bathroom door. He was standing there and he looked concerned. As soon as you opened the door, he had his arms open for you.

He knew you well enough that he knew exactly what you were feeling. “Come here, it’s okay” he said, softly. You sighed and walked into his arms. He rocked you back and forth. You felt yourself finally relax in his arms.

“I could have saved them and I didn’t. Derek, how am I supposed to cope with that?” You asked him. He pulled away so he could face you. “None of this was your fault. You can not blame yourself for what happened” he told you. You could tell he meant it, you could see the sincerity in his eyes.

“But I should’ve known that it was the wrong call” You told him, still not being convinced that it wasn’t your fault. “The whole team agreed, we all thought it was the right choice. This is on all of us, we are a team. It’s never one person’s fault” he reassured you.

“Thank you” You said, as you pulled away from him. “Are you okay now?” He asked, still concerned about you. “Yeah I’ll be good” you told him.

“Alright let’s go sit back down” he said turning around. You both walked to where the seats were. Derek sat down where he had been sitting and you sat in your original seat.

“What are you doing? Get over here” he told you, chuckling to himself. “But I always sit by myself” you said, confused. “Not today babygirl, come here” he said, sweetly.

You smiled to yourself and got up and sat down next to him on the double wide seat. “That’s better” he said, putting his arm around your shoulders. “You’re a dork” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Yeah, but I made you laugh” he said, smiling to himself.

You couldn’t help but blush, Derek was really such a sweet and compassionate friend.

Quickly, Derek had fallen asleep. You could tell because his breathing slowed and became more regular. You saw Emily start to wake up. She on the other side of the plane. She made eye contact with you and just smirked to herself.

She held her hands up and made a heart shape, trying to tease you. You just rolled your eyes in response. She continued to tease you and make kissy faces.

Emily knew about your crush on Derek. You wouldn’t be surprised if the whole team, including Derek, knew. It was pretty obvious.

You just sighed to yourself as Emily picked up a book and started to read. You felt Derek stir a little. “Is she making the faces again?” He asked, his eyes still closed. “Uhh what?”you asked him. “The kissy faces?” He repeated.

“Oh yeah, was she doing it before?” You asked him, confused. “Yeah, while we talked over by the bathroom” he said. “Oh, I didn’t notice” you said, giggling. “Well you know what we could do to stop her?” He asked you, opening his eyes and looking at you.

“No, I don’t. What did you have in mind?” You asked him, curiously. “Well I bet if we started dating, she would stop with the teasing” he suggested.

You were shocked, to say the least. Derek and you never really flirted, despite being best friends. You guys didn’t have the relationship that him and Penelope had. You guys didn’t have that constant flirty banter that they had. You were just really good friends.

“Just to make her stop teasing us?” You asked, hoping that he would say that wasn’t the only reason you two should date.

“Come on Y/N, you know how a feel about you” he said, now whispering. “I do?” You asked, confused.

Derek quickly glanced up and you saw him look around the jet. Then he quickly pecked you on the lips. It was magical, but all too short. You didn’t even have time to react, you were just left sitting there stunned.

“Did that make it clear to you?” He whispered in your ear. “Yeah, I think that idea you had is pretty good” you said, with a cheesy smile. You interlaced your fingers with his. “Really? You’d like to go out some time?” He asked, in shock.

“Come on Derek, you’re always talking about how you're such a ladies man. Why are you shocked I said yes? You had to know that I liked you” you told him. You were both barely speaking above a whisper, not wanting the rest of the team to overhear anything. “I’m shocked, because you’re the first girl that I’ve really really cared about. And I feel so lucky right now. You have no idea” he said, smiling.

“I am just as lucky. Although Penelope might be a little jealous and try and steal you away from me” you said, giggling. “No, she won’t be surprised. She knew about how much I liked you. She was always scheming and trying to set us up” he said.

He started to rub his thumb along the back of your hand. Everyone knew that Derek Morgan was always a charmer with the ladies. But you never expected him to be so soft and caring. It was really sweet.

“Well just so you’re aware, as soon as we’re away from the rest of the team, you better be prepared to kiss me again. And I get to kiss you back this time. Last time it was too short” you told him, smirking to yourself. “Your wish is my command” he said, giving your hand a squeeze.

And when you guys got back to Quantico, as soon as you got near Derek’s car, his lips were on yours. You had backed up into the car, pulled Derek with you. You were leaning against the door and he had his hands firmly placed on your hips. You both pulled away once for air and then again when Emily drove by and honked at the both of you.

That was when you both decided that you should probably go home, before you guys got caught by anybody else.

taglist: @reniescarlett @thelovelyrose

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character!!

Requests OPEN

[asset35-maya]

Another ask if you feel like it, because I love the way you did the last.

Gavin helping Nines through either a Bad Texture Day, or a meltdown because one of his routines got disrupted.

Autistic and Human Au again please

<3 <3

Another bright morning. Another sunny day. Another painful struggle for Gavin Reed to drag himself out of bed. Luckily he knew he could always count on a warm breakfast waiting for him in the kitchen… along with a gentle kiss on the left cheek.

The very thought ought to make him smile, but this morning, he had a headache. A rather nasty one. Well actually, it was a hangover. And his own fault for thinking he could get away with downing that much red wine.

His new fiancé had warned him, but Gavin couldn’t be stopped from celebrating. Not after finally bucking up the courage to get down on one knee and having the proposal go spectacularly well.

Gavin had carefully researched how best to balance the element of surprise with giving Nines enough time to internalize and deliberate the request. He didn’t at all doubt Nines’ commitment to their relationship or willingness to marry him... but he knew that spur of the moment decision-making didn’t always blend well with autistic thought processes.

After asking around in online help forums and talking to their close friends, Gavin had figured it out. The proposal ended up being simple and domestic, yet a 100% charming.

Since Nines loved to cook and Gavin always brought home the groceries, he decided to create a long trail of clues using notes tacked to different items on different days. It was a slow build but when Nines finally retrieved the ring from within the box of Cheerios, the deal was a good as sealed.

They kissed over the brown paper bags and Nines whipped up a splendid meal with all the fresh ingredients. Gavin had brought home lamb shanks and the fanciest figs he could find from the Mediterranean aisle. He also broke out his birthday wine that he’d been saving for a special occasion.

Life wasn’t perfect for the two of them, but in that moment it sure felt like it.

Still blissed out despite the throbbing in his head, Gavin stumbled into the kitchen. He yawned as he noticed the mugs of tea steaming on the countertop. Nah, he’d need something way stronger to ward off his pounding headache.

Unthinkingly, he sidestepped Nines and flipped open a cupboard door. He reached for the jar of instant coffee and let the door slam shut. The second Nines flinched, Gavin’s actions caught up with him.

“Sorry babe, I’ll get out of your way.”

Nines nodded stiffly and turned his attention back to the bacon in his frying pan.

Gavin sheepishly poured hot water from the kettle into the spare mug. He tried to be as quiet as possible, but he couldn’t avoid the spoon tinkling as he stirred the coffee powder into the water.

Nines suddenly dropped his spatula and marched towards the side counter. He grabbed one of the mugs and dumped the tea down the sink. In the few seconds his back was turned, a burning smell came from the stove. Nines scrambled to turn it off and in his haste, dropped the beloved cat-shaped mug. It cracked in two, splitting diagonally across the cute little face.

Gavin knew what was going to happen before it did. A cruel reminder that despite the glorious night they’d shared, their life was indeed far from perfect.

Nines’ breathing turned shallow. He sunk to the floor, fighting the sobs that threatened to break free. He kept his eyes fixed on the broken fragments. A few moments passed, and then Nines lost all composure.

He cried like he’d lost everything. As if the roof had caved in… as if the sun would never shine again… as if the world had ended. Maybe none of that was even remotely true, but it sure felt like it.

Gavin knew. Gavin understood. And it hurt. Even if he knew it would pass, even if he knew Nines would eventually be okay. It hurt to see his lover in so much distress, especially if he was the cause, however inadvertently.

Silently, Gavin sat down on the floor in the same spot at the edge of the kitchen. He made no attempt to approach or coax or calm Nines. He just sat and watched him go through it for a moment.

“I- I- I’m s-s-sorry… Ga-Gav-in…”

“Shhh… don’t be. Don’t be sorry, Nines.”

“I ruined… I ruined breakfast. Like I ruin… everything.”

“Mmm… not everything. Breakfast yes, and that’s my fault, but not everything.”

“I ruined that mug forever.”

Nines pointed at the ceramic pieces on the ground. Tears streamed steadily down his face and his chest shook with the effort of trying to talk and breathe though it all. Gavin’s throat clenched with guilt. His own eyes felt rather warm and wet, but he blinked rapidly to clear them. It wasn’t about him. He now had to focus and help Nines move out of his current headspace. 

“Well babe, this mug is never going to be the same, that’s for sure… buuuut we can use it for something else, right? You’re always gushing about upcycling! Could we maybe glue the pieces together? Turn it into a pot for one of your plants? A cat with leaves growing out of its head sounds neat.”

Nines sniffed.

“A cat with a huge crack in its face.”

“Or… a scar on its nose. Just like me.”

Nines pointed to the other mug on the counter.

“What about that one?”

“We could stick plants in that one too.”

“But it’s not broken.”

“Yeah it’s perfect. Just like you. And nothing’s ever gonna split you and me up, so who the phck are we to keep these mugs apart? Both of them are going in the garden. You just tell me which herbs you want in them later, okay?”

Nines wiped his face with the back of his hand. His breathing was steadier. Gavin could see that providing a distraction had worked and Nines could now slowly collect himself. The only trouble with using rational paths like this one was the risk of making Nines feel silly.

“I’m a mess. I couldn’t let things be… normal… for like 24 hours. You went through all that trouble to propose and I just had a meltdown over a fucking mug. I don’t know why you even want to marry me.”

“Nines... There’s no such thing as normal. We both know that. So let’s not strive for the impossible, okay? Phck normal.”

Nines looked up and met his eye. That was a very promising sign. Gavin decided to push a little further with humor. If it worked, they were in the clear. If not, he’d try something else. Whatever the outcome, he wouldn’t give up. Never. Not when it came to Nines.

“And if you really need a list of reasons why I wanna marry you, just go back and read all the little grocery notes. Come on! I didn’t pour my heart out for the love of broccoli and canned beans.”

The corner of Nines’ lip twitched. He closed his eyes and leaned his head wearily against the cabinets. Exhausted. He held out a hand.

Gavin was beside him in a flash, gently placing his opposite hand into the outstretched palm and squeezing as much reassurance as he could into it. Nines reciprocated weakly and their matching rings clicked against each other.

A moment passed with Gavin resting on his haunches. Then Nines made a valiant attempt to stand. It wasn’t very successful... Patient as ever, Gavin waited until his hand was dropped.

He pressed a soft kiss to Nines’ forehead before wrapping one arm around his back and slipping the other beneath his knees. With practiced ease and balance, Gavin stood up… stepped over the broken halves of the mug… and carried Nines into the living room.

A plan had already formed in his mind.

He would give Nines his tea.

They would watch some Sunday morning cartoons.

They would get some hash browns and McGriddles delivered home (because it was still early enough).

Gavin would throw out the burnt bacon and carefully glue the broken cat mug back together.

Nines would pick out the herb cuttings to plant into the two matching mugs, though Gavin had a pretty good hunch it would be rosemary and thyme.

As difficult as it was, life would go on... and they would buy new mugs. Maybe a bigger set... because accidents happened and there was no need to dwell on them for too long.

There would be more bright and sunny mornings to spend together.

They would get married someday.

And maybe things would be okay. Or maybe they wouldn’t. Who knew. Who cared.

Their life wasn’t perfect… but it definitely was beautiful.

//

@rjhpandapaws

[haikyuu-sickfics]

I have a request if you don't mind!! Atsumu and Osamu's first time on a plane and Osamu gets horribly plane sick and atsumu has to be doting older brother and take care of him!

Vomit Warning!

"This is awesome!" Atsumu cheered, pulling his shoes back on after passing security.

"What's so awesome about standing in line for an hour?" Osamu countered, leaning forward to stretch their back.

It was four o'clock in the morning. Atsumu had forced his twin out of bed at one to arrive here at two for their plane which departed at six. Osamu was far less than pleased, lazy tendrils of sleep still clinging to their every move.

"C'mon, get in the vacation spirit!" Atsumu pulled his twin into a side hug.

"No, thanks," Osamu pulled away, double checking the ticket in their hand for the correct gate, "but Mr. Vacation, what d'ya plan for the two hours."

"People watch, duh."

Closing their eyes in frustration, Osamu grabbed their luggage and made their way down the vast, well-lit, corrider.

"Why did I let you talk me into this again?" they mumbled under their breath, mostly to themselves.

-

As expected, time passed horrendously slow. Each second ticking by at a snails pace, the blaring white lights boring through Osamu's pupils even with their eyes closed. In addition, a dull headache was beginning to ebb at the edges of their temples. Despite this, a faint sense of unconciousness fell over them. Some odd world between awake and asleep which one may only find themselves suspended in while at an airport.

They were rudely pulled out of this not-quite-relaxed state by a hand on their shoulder and a flight attendants echoing announcement.

"Get up, it's boarding time," Atsumu informed, "You can sleep on the plane."

Osamu shrugged Atsumu's hand off, stretching out their legs while wiping sleep from their eyes. A faint headache gnawed behind their eyes, but that was normal for the amount of sleep recieved.

"Don't even try talking to me on the plane," Osamu threatened half-heartedly.

-

Osamu regretted saying that.

They had managed to catch a wink of sleep before the plane had started and while it was taxiing, but an irksome nausea settled in his gut as soon as the hunk of metal lifted off the ground. At first they had attributed it to the hunger, but that idea was quickly shot down when the sight of food on the menu sent their stomach roiling.

They wanted nothing more but for Atsumu to ask them what was wrong. Of course, they wouldn't start the conversation- that would be admitting defeat- but if their twin happen to ask, they couldn't just lie.

But for one in his life, Atsumu was listening to Osamu and keeping his mouth sealed. And the latter never wanted to punch him more for it.

What did finally arouse suspicion in the dense twin was Osamu asking for Sprite.

"Samu? You ok?" Atsumu questioned, pulling out his right earbud as Osamu took a tentative sip of the bubbly drink.

Lacking the will to open their mouth- much less use their voice- Osamu shook their head no.

"Are you that tired? Try reclining a little and gettin' some shut-eye."

Osamu pointed to his stomach before covering his mouth. Atsumu quickly sat up.

"Woah woah, hey what'cha doin there, huh?"

Glaring softly at his twin, Osamu's shoulders lurched with a gag, his muscles tensing with strain.

"Right. Right. Bag okay, um where is it," Atsumu patted his pockets in panic until Osamu took things into his own hands and reached into the pocket of the seat in front of him.

His hands shook ruthlessly, keeping him from opening the bag. Silently, he begged Atsumu to help him. But his twin being... well, his twin. Atsumu took no notice of Osamu's plight.

Not until his 'plight' displayed itself in a sickly chunky liquid dripping from his mouth to his hands before pooling on his lap like a water fountain from a horror movie.

Those nearby scrunched their noses in disgust, making a show of leaning away from the spectacle.

Feeling embarrassment tingling at his gut, Osamu helplessly sat by as another mouthful of sick rolled out.

A flight attendant hurried over, carrying a plastic garbage bag in their hands.

"Sorry," Osamu croaked out, feeling quite awful for the staff who was left to deal with the mess he made.

"Oh, it's okay. First time flying? Don't worry, this happens all the time. If you would like a change of clothes we could provide you with some. We can't gurrantee they will fit, but I'm sure anything will be better."

Osamu nodded his head at the offer of new clothing, he refused to make eye contact with the source of the lovely voice.

"Now who would've thought. What kinda piss-poor luck do you have? It's like you were born anti-fun,"

"Can it you low budget Paristan."

"Wow, and right when I was gonna ask if you were alright. Now I see how you really feel about me," Astumu paused, waiting for Osamu to continue their petty dispute.

When he didn't Atsumu felt one thing.

Guilt.

Technically, it was his fault Osamu was in this position. The least he could do was apologize or help him out or something.

"Do you, uh. I can take this from you," Atsumu grabbed the soiled paper bag by a dry corner and dropped it into the plastic bag.

"Thanks."

The flight attendant came back with a change of clothes and a bundle of napkins. Atsumu accepted the package gratefully, setting the clothes on his lap as he began wiping down his twin as best as possible.

"I could do that," Osamu stated plainly, making no attempt to take over the job.

"It's the least I could do."

After throwing the last napkin into the bag, Atsumu handed Osamu the bundle of clothes and the bag,

"Go change in the bathroom, put your dirty clothes in here, we'll just throw them away."

"Alone?" Osamu cringed at the thought of walking down the alley with so many eyes on him.

He was bound to get dirty looks, given the scent he infected the small area with.

"I'll come with."

Atsumu followed Osamu down the hall, thanking every higher power imaginable when the small green 'OPEN!' sign was on the bathroom handle.

"I'll wait here for you," Atsumu stood next to the door as Osamu disappeared inside.

It took a couple minutes for Osamu to reappear- reasonable considering the size of the bathroom.

Once he did come out, the two walked quickly back to their seats.

"Do you want some water or something?" Atsumu asked, sealing the bag without tying it.

"I just wanna sleep," Osamu leaned his head back, failing to find comfort on the cheap seat.

Atsumu pulled of his sweatshirt, folding it into a square before placing it on his lap. Lifting up the arm rest between them, he patted the makeshift pillow.

Wordlessly agreeing, Osamu lay down.

Maybe his brother wasn't that bad after all.

[random-mha-thoughts]

Kiss of Death pt 2 (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: If the Angel of Death came upon you but you had half an hour, what would you do?

Part 1.

BGM: Ateez “Inception” slowed + reverb (Insomnio on YT)

Word count: 1,284

Warnings: Character death and bodies

Tags: @rintomoj @yuki-osaki @yamichxn​ @lonelyfangirl453 @cyanide9602 @liviitehe @bigkoalafications

a/n: Feels good to be back to writing here~ As promised, this sequel part is the day after the first part.  Am I sorry for my first post after hiatus being angst? Not really, whoops 😉.  Enjoy suffering~

Todoroki didn't know what kind of dream that was; it was too realistic for him to categorize it with his other dreams.  He even began to doubt that it even was just a figment of his imagination.  Normally, the images in his head would be too abstract and scattered to remember all the details; although still spotty and scattered, the images his mind had conjured up were too defined than anything he'd experienced before.  Even the kiss felt irresistibly real, and he wondered how his inexperienced mind conjured such a sweet taste.  In a way, he was disappointed that his mind dangled such an opportunity over his head teasingly.

"I have feelings for you.”

As Todoroki opened his refrigerator to look for some breakfast, he frowned to himself.  The images held a strangely incomplete weight to it, something he can't put his finger on.  The entire scenario seemed like call to action in disguise for some unknown reason.  Perhaps this was his sign that he should seize the opportunity, take matters into his own hands, make his dream a reality.  The powers at be were giving him the green light; this was some divine signal that his confession would be reciprocated and he has nothing to fear.

His heart skipped a beat and his cheeks rushed with heat at the thought of his reality aligning with his inner fantasy, the memory of your soft lips ghosting over his.  It seemed too good to be true, but still somehow within his reach.

Fueled by this affirmative omen, he decided to pay you a visit after breakfast for a coffee date.

~

Todoroki pulled his scarf slightly looser as he entered your apartment building, his body temperature suddenly warmer.  Numerous times on the walk over did he have to remind himself of why he was here, the light that was mostly likely waiting for him at the end.  Picturing your smiling face and how precious you would be standing with him kept his feet moving.  If he didn't take advantage of this sudden flash of confidence today, he couldn't be confident that it would strike him again.

He called the elevator and took another calming breath.  The doors opened almost immediately and he stepped in.  In a daze, Todoroki pushed the button to your floor, his mind palace painting lovely images of you two going on casual dates strolling through the park, having fun at amusement parks, and cuddling under the stars.  He almost missed the desperate call of someone rushing towards him.

"Hold the door!"

He snapped out of his daze and pushed the open button right before the steel doors shut.  The breathless figure stumbled in, heaving for breath.  "Thank you- Oh, Todoroki."  The figure straightened up.

Todoroki bowed his head briefly in greeting.  "Good morning."  He recognized them as your close friend whom you talked fondly about often.

Their eyes flickered to the button for your floor that's already illuminated as the doors shut.  "Here to see (Y/n)?" they asked cheerily.

"Yes, just to visit," he responded vaguely.  "I haven't seen them in a while, I thought I would drop by."

"I'm sure they would appreciate that," the shorter friend smiled.  "Especially since they need help cleaning today, they would love the extra set of hands."  They checked their phone.  "I wonder what suddenly got into them that they decided to message me at almost 3 last night."

"Yeah, I came at 3 am to confess to you, I’m sorry.”

His clock in his dream and your words flashed through his mind and he cocked an eyebrow to himself before shrugging it off as a strange coincidence.  In regard to your friend's words, he decided to rework his plan.  He didn't mind helping you clean your place.  It would make his request to take you out to coffee afterwards more natural as a job well done for cleaning.

The elevator opened on your floor.  "They must be sleeping still, they didn't answer my text."  The two of them approached your door and the friend knocked.  "(Y/n)!  Wakey wakey!  Your cleaning crew has arrived!"  Without waiting for an answer, they lifted the doormat to retrieve the spare key hiding under it, unlocking the door and bursting in.

As they announced their arrival, Todoroki closed the door behind him and removed his shoes and quietly took in your home.  He smiled to himself because the atmosphere and decorations remind him of you.

"(Y/n), come on!  Get up!"  Your friend quickly slipped off their shoes and coat, messily throwing them onto your couch before dashing straight to your room.

Todoroki hung back instead, opting to stroll around your living room instead.  It's not his first time here, but he didn't think you were close enough to enter your room so brazenly; he respected your privacy.  He occupied himself with rehearsing how he would confess his feelings to you.  He wanted to make it as earnest but smooth as possible.  Should he take your hand when he's done?  Should you be walking around or remain inside the coffee shop when he says his piece?  There were so many options, but he wanted to make that moment as perfect as possible because you deserved nothing less.

"Todoroki!  Come over here!"

The alarm in your friend's voice prompted him into action.  All his thoughts scattered into incoherent fear.  What in the world could've happened?  He didn't know.

Todoroki burst into the room and wildly surveyed the scene.  Your friend stood frozen over your bed where you lay, but something seemed off.  Why would you be sleeping over your sheets and blanket?

"I-I came to wake them up, they didn't respond to me calling them- When I went to shake them, they-they-"  They stepped back before knocking into the desk.

Todoroki's mind raced with a thousand thoughts, none of them pleasant.  A shaky hand hesitantly grazed the crook of your neck and his breath stalled.

You were cold.

He drew his hand back, refusing to believe any of this.  His world suddenly spun on its head.  How could you be-?

The rest of his dream echoed in his mind.

"I have to tell you something It can’t wait until morning.”

"I didn’t want to leave without finally saying this to you."

He stumbled back a few steps as he remembered you suddenly vaulting off his balcony.

Your friend sank to the floor, clutching a paper and envelope, body wracked with a sudden onset of sobs as they cried your name.  "(Y/n)!  T-They're gone!"

The pieces finally click together, Todoroki's body grows cold.  Last night was no dream, it was your final goodbye to him.

That was your goodbye kiss to him.

It was his turn to fall to the floor, shudders wracking his body as his throat threatened to close because of the sobs welling up inside him.  The sweet kiss he savored only a minute before suddenly tasted bitter, the future he'd built up for you two ripped away from him.  Todoroki fell apart to the feeling of guilt, regret, anger, misery, distress, and so many other ineffable emotions.  Various self-loathing what-if's and if-only's consumed him.

Todoroki couldn't bear to see your face; even if he wanted to, his body shuddered too much to move and his tears blinded him.  His heartbeat nearly deafened him as your friend read your note aloud as their voice broke and wailed.  He felt cheated by fate.  He refused to believe this was when you were meant to depart, not when he'd experienced just a few seconds of the bliss of you two being together, regretting that he hadn't acted on his feelings sooner and stupidly believed he was sleeping during your final moment together.

Never again would he indulge in your cheerful expressions, your endearing mannerisms, your sweet voice.  You now only lived in his memories and in his dreams, as you'd never live in his reality anymore.

[mantistog]

I was wondering if you can take a request for Yandere! Hannibal x reader x Yandere! Will Graham where the reader is very cold hearted so she always rejects Hannibal and Will and so they start killing for her like courtship and they eventually kidnap her and tell her they killed those people for her? Sorry if it’s long and I love your writings keep up the good work!

Bit different than what you wrote, sorry lol. I often get caught up writing, although I hope you still like it. <3

_________________________________________________________

Yandere!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Yandere!Will Graham: Devotion

The first time you rejected them you had been dealing with a sizzling headache for most of the day. It was the kind of headache that spread through the top of your head to the bridge of your nose and to the edge of your neck, making your head heavy and unbearable. The kind of headache that renders you desperate for relief and makes you question if life is even worth it at all. So to say you were irritable was an understatement. They could not have chosen a worse time to try and court you with dinner and fake kindness. 

At first it seemed they had thought your coldness and rejection was a symptom of your vicious headache or your bad mood following it. In reality you were just not at all interested in being part of a weird three way relationship, much less their toxic and gross partnership. The only way to describe it was codependent. It seemed Hannibal loved when people needed him. Or maybe he liked the control that came with someone being under him and having complete control. He did seem like the control freak type. Will on the other hand seemed he needed someone to make him stable. Someone to just handle him, even when he can’t handle himself. 

You needed neither, and you definitely didn’t want it. No one needed to give you a role to make you feel worth something and you didn’t need to define yourself by anyone you chose to date. You were not interested in any aspect of their sick love. Maybe if you had told them that that day instead of telling them politely to fuck off, they would have understood. The next time they had asked you out, it was when you bumped into them by accident. What for you had forgotten, but you needed flowers. Maybe it was a funeral, or maybe it was one of your friends' birthdays. You had never been good with gifts, always giving people things you’d liked. The flower you had chosen was a large bouquet of sunflowers, a big beautiful one that went well with the season. Sunflowers were your favourite, too. When you had bumped into them you had accidentally let that slip, when Hannibal had asked what occasion called for sunflowers. He had always looked far too deep into everything, making him too pretentious for your liking. Who cared if the flower was wrong for the occasion, if it was pretty? 

Either way you had told them in exact words that whatever they were trying to invite you to was not going to happen, and you were not in any way interested in any of them. Hannibal had of course tried to goat you into coming for dinner as a ‘friend’. Will was less tactful, seeming rather distraught. You disagreed, your patience thin. You simply walked away without even a goodbye. A lot of your friends would call you cold, or mean. To you it just meant you didn’t lie or deal with peoples shit. You were okay with being called cold if it meant you didn’t have to bother with putting up fake courtesies. 

When the pictures of the body came to you a few months later, you had completely forgotten the interaction. They had seemed much less pushy in their pursuit and you had to some degree even forgotten they had even tried to court you. In some way, the body was beautiful. The way the skin seemed so pale, like porcelain, matched so well with the vibrant yellow of the flowers. The body wasn’t even the focus of the masterpiece, it was the canvas for which the sunflowers were painted. The body was perched on a set of antlers, and it made you think it must have been the chesapeake ripper. 

But the motive was so different. Violation, cannibalism and the act of murder was always what you saw on the crime scenes from him. But this was not anything violent in nature itself. There was barely any blood anywhere on the body, it looked barely touched. She was almost alive, if it was not for the paleness and cold of her skin. Some of it looked even blue. You wondered what Will would gather of the body, if he would come to the same conclusion as you. 

You were surprised when he claimed it to be a love proclamation, yet still insisted that it was the ripper. Will knew better than you, when it came to all this, so you didn’t bother arguing with him. He insisted something must have changed in the ripper's life. That he must have found someone or something worth his art. It seemed almost unlikely to you, that someone like the ripper could be possible of love. Jack seemed to agree with you, which at least put your mind at ease. 

It wasn’t long before the next body turned up, in the same state as the last. So well preserved it was eerie. The body was exactly the same as the last, but the sunflowers were backed by bouquets of flowers. Just like with the last body, you didn’t connect the dots. But you still briefly thought about how pretty it was. You loved all those flowers, and you had to stop yourself from letting that thought fester. It would be too morbid to find it beautiful. 

Bodies kept turning up like that, so different but all so similar too. And after the 4th one you started to notice a pattern of the things the bodies were adorned with and that it was all things you found nice. But the 5th drove it home, putting it just beyond a coincidence for you. Just a week before the body turned up you had an altercation with your neighbor about a noise complaint after you had some friends over. You were complaining about it for a week, the fact that you didn’t see him again didn’t even cross your mind. You were too busy being caught up in your own spite to notice his absence at all. Until you saw the pictures of his body. Unlike the almost artistic and beautiful vision portrayed through the previous bodies, this one was malicious and predatory like the other victims of the ripper. 

It was like the pictures snapped you back to reality. All those bodies, it was all too close to home. You hadn’t asked for this. All you had done was complain. You went home early that day, overcome with a sense of guilt. You stayed home the next day too, calling in sick. You kept going over who it could be in your life. Will had deemed the killing proclamations of love, yet you couldn’t find one person who had shown any kind of interest in you. That was until you remembered the rejections. The lead was so thin, that you honestly felt bad for even thinking about it, but it was quickly squashed when you thought about it further. You had always found Hannibal creepy and probably capable of murder. And Will was unstable to the point where you didn’t even question his capabilities. 

You went back to work as normal after that. You made sure not to say anything personal, or complain about anyone when Hannibal or Will came near you. It went pretty smooth, and while everything was laying dormant in their relationship and your mind, you focused on trying to come up with a plan to see if it was them. But as mundanity rolled back into your life, you started chatting with your coworkers the same as you always had. And you made a mistake. You hadn’t even noticed Will was in the room as your back faced the doorway of the breakroom talking about a guy you had met at your local cafe. You were interested in him. It wasn’t often you were, and you had just let it slip in excitement. You didn’t even notice until you got spooked by a cough behind you that he had been there the whole time, pouring coffee. You fretted going home that day, scared of what would happen.

You couldn’t remember exactly when you had fallen asleep, but you woke up feeling really tired and stiff, with the faintest of headaches growing in the back of your skull. Yet you felt nice, pulling the duvet closer to your face to try and put pressure on your head and alleviate some of the headache. The duvet was  soft, and it smelled faintly of manly cologne. A cologne that wasn’t yours. Suddenly the gears in your head turned, and you shot upright, looking around suspiciously. The room is unfamiliar to you, but at the end of the bed you see Will, asleep. He’s sitting on the floor, propped up on the bed with his hands reaching upwards towards you, his face down on the sheets. He looks almost cute, like that. You almost consider waking him, to talk to him about this, but you quickly decide not to. Could you even make it to the door without him waking?

You look over at the half open door, at the other side of the room from the bed. But before you can even calculate the chances of your escape the door opens further, creaking in the process and startling Will awake. Hannibal is looking at you with a smile, and your blood runs cold at how creepy and insincere it is. Will scrambles to stand up, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring up at you. His expression was so emotional, mixed with both pity and something akin to happiness. He looks like he is approaching one of his wild dogs, moving very slow and cautiously. 

“Why?” Is all you manage to ask, when in reality you probably had hundreds of questions you wanted to ask them. But you don’t manage to eliquate a good question. It prompts Hannibal to step into the room fully, and you can now see that he is whipping his hands with a small cloth, indicating he was probably making something in his kitchen, like he always did. He cocks his head confused and Will scoots himself closer again. “That’s a very broad question. You’re going to have to reconvey.” Hannibal says. Your mouth scrunches up as the fake smile appears back on his face. It’s obvious you’re displeased, and you can’t help but grow a bit hostile. 

“Why am I here? Why do you murder innocent people?  Why am I alive?” You snap, looking at them with pure anger. It feels good, to finally tell them off again. Hannibal's fake smile drops, and he opens his mouth to reply but Will is already sitting by you, grabbing your hands in his. You’re too stunned to say anything. “We did it for you, can’t you see?” He pleads. But no, you still don’t understand. You will never understand. All you can feel at this point is exasperation. “You’re crazy. Neither of you even know what love means.” 

Will smiles, bringing your hands closer to his face, despite you half heartedly pulling them away. He kisses your knuckles gently. 

“Breakfast is ready.” Hannibal says, as if everything is normal. As if you’re not kidnapped. As if you’re not the cause of over 5 dead people. 

As if you love them.

[stargirlrchive]

Fantasies - Spencer Reid

masterlist ; request are open (send me stuff <3)

author’s note: okay i have never written smut, ever. and i want to but im shy 👉🏼👈🏼 and i was trying to write some stuff here but i couldn’t get myself to go all the way. so sorry about that, I WILL IMPROVE AND I WILL WRITE A SMUTTY PIECE EVENTUALLY. it’s my goal for the end of the year. italics and bold are a dream & i hate the title again, nothing new

disclaimer: NSFW, smut no actual s*x and very vague (honestly don’t know if it would even be considered but yeah!) GIF NOT MINE

pairing: spencer reid x reader

word count: 3,365

His tongue was hot on your body as it trailed down your chest, reaching near your belly button. He pursed his lip and bit down, letting dark marks litter from your neck all the way down to your lower stomach. You could see a mop of curls but couldn’t make out who it was. But you didn’t really care, his tongue was far too skilled and distracting. He kissed down to your thighs and before he got to where you wanted him most, he looked up and you felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach, “Spencer?”

You woke up scared, confused and flustered. Your body had set off into a cold sweat and you were so utterly frustrated. Frustrated for two reasons, the first being that your dream ended right before it got good, and second because you had been trying to suppress those feelings but it seemed that your subconscious mind was catching up with you. Spencer was probably the person you were closest to, and you had managed to block out any feelings you had for him so it wouldn’t interfere with your friendship. Or so you thought.

You felt a flutter in the pit of your stomach and looked at the clock, 6:54 am. You were normally up by 7:30 to get your day started and head over to the office so you figured you’d just stay up.

Your daily morning routine was done and you were ready to go, still having a half hour before you needed to leave so you decided you would just grab a coffee. Your thoughts circling back to your dream every time your eyes fluttered shut and you couldn’t get the image of the genius out of your mind. It felt so real and so hot. You had no idea how you were going to get through the day.

Even as you sat at your desk it was so obvious something was wrong. Every time the door to the office opened you flinched and Derek and Emily had taken notice. “What’s wrong?”

Emily was looking at you with so much worry and you felt bad because you had no idea what to tell her. “I-have you ever had a dream- like a sex dream?”

“Always.”

Derek’s voice made you jump and everyone around you started laughing because of course he would say that. “O-ok what about if it was someone you had never had a dream like that about and-and you can’t stop thinking about it and it’s going to be so incredibly awkward when you see him, which you’re going to see him in like 10 minutes at most and it was really hot but it was so wrong.”

You had got everything out in one breath and your cheeks were a permanent shade of red as they both laughed at you, “It was Hotch wasn’t it?”

“What the hell!”

They laughed at your utterly mortified face, “No it was not, it was Spencer!”

“It was Spencer, what?”

You had stilled at the sound of his voice, you had been so involved in recounting your nightmare to your friends that you had failed to notice him walk in, they were still laughing at you. “Y-you forgot to turn the lights off from the office last night, since you were the last to leave.”

He did not look at all convinced but to your relief, he let it go. You just needed to keep a respectful distance from your cute genius friend and everything would be fine.

~

It was not fine, nothing about the day was fine. Hotch had paired you and Spencer together to work on some reports from the last case the team had taken on. He was so close you could smell his cologne and his floppy head of hair taking you back to your dream. You shifted and tried to get as far away as possible from him, hoping he had not noticed. But he had.

He noticed everything and he was hurt, to say the least. He didn’t understand what had caused the change between the two of you. You had always been very close.

The two of you had started working around the same time but you were strictly working under Penelope. Until you realized you preferred being hands on with the BAU, you hated having to stay behind. And your age, the two of you were the youngest of the group everyone always teased that the two of you would end up together, or at least hooking up. None of that had happened, much to Spencer’s disfortune.

“Did I do something?”

“What?”

“Did I do something to upset you?”

Your face was scrunched you in confusion and also discomfort, you didn’t want things to be weird but you felt bad. Bad because now when you looked at him all you could picture was his tongue tracing your body. And it felt so right, like ink marking parchment but you knew it was wrong. He had no idea about your fantasies and you hated having to keep a secret. Especially from Spencer.

“Spencer, you did nothing wrong. I-I just don’t feel good. And being in here is making me really hot and maybe I just need to work at my own desk because I feel suffocated in here.”

He knew you were lying, his eyes had hardened and he was so angry. “I need to clear my head, I can’t concentrate.”

He heard you vaguely mumble before you stepped out of the office, letting him drown in his thoughts of what was going on with you. You quickly walked out of the office the two of you had been in and we’re going to make your way to the restroom when Hotch stepped out of his office.

“Can I see you for a minute inside my office?”

His voice was flat, but there was amusement dancing in his eyes and you felt your stomach drop, turning to see Emily and Derek snickering behind you. You knew they had kept talking about it and Hotch had over heard them.

He motioned for you to shut the door and so you did, sitting down stiffly as he danced around the words he was going to say, the amusement lingering in his eyes made you tense up. This was mortifying, “Get on with it, Hotch.”

“People think I have no sense of humor, but I think I have pretty great sense of humor. Don’t you?”

Your eyes narrowed at your boss, “Depends.”

“How’s working with Reid?”

“It’s been normal.”

He was full on smiling now, “Are you ever going to tell him?”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about and even if I did know, wouldn’t you want me to not say anything. No fraternizing.”

His eyes rolled so far back you were sure it hurt him, “As long as it doesn’t affect your work, I could care less what you all do, or who you do, outside of the office.”

Your cheeks burned, “But if you need motivation I know he feels the exact same.”

Your eyes narrowed on his figure once more, questioning him, “You get a few drinks in him and he’s an open book.”

You didn’t respond, not knowing what to say, “But seeing as it’s as hard as it is for you, I’ll just have him work with Garcia and you can finish up paperwork with Prentiss and Morgan.”

You couldn’t oppose, not that you wanted to, you needed some space from him. You stepped out of his office and made your way to your two colleagues, “What was that about?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I’m working with the two of you now.”

“It can’t be that bad working with Spencer is it?”

They were teasing you, “No but it is distracting, so how can I help?”

~

You weren’t sure how long it had been since you left Hotch’s office, but by the look of anger and confusion on Spencer’s face when he left the room he was in you could tell it had been awhile. You forgot to tell him you weren’t working with him anymore.

“Shit-sorry Spence. Hotch to-“

“You’re being so childish.”

You tensed at his words, “Excuse me?”

Derek and Emily could feel the rising tension and quickly tried to jump in for you. “You’re so angry at me you had to go tell Hotch to change you assignments.”

“No I didn’t. He-“

“I can’t believe you.”

You were fuming, he wasn’t giving you the chance to answer, “Maybe if you stopped interrupting me and let me explain myself you wouldn’t be so angry.”

“Whatever, I didn’t need your help anyway. You weren’t necessarily helping. If anything just slowing me down and being a nuisa-“

“Reid.” Derek’s voice cut through to the two of you, the hurt clear on your face and Spencer’s anger leaving him in a second. He shouldn’t have said that. He didn’t mean to say that.

You turned away from him and ignored the way he was calling out for you, instead diving into the huge pile of paperwork the three of you still had.

“Drop it, Spencer. Hotch wanted you to help Garcia anyways.” You heard him sigh after Emily told him to leave you alone, only looking up from your mountain of work when you heard his footsteps disappear.

~

Spencer wanted to pull his hair out, he was hurt by the way you had been acting but you hadn’t actually said anything to hurt his feelings. And he did, he purposely hurt you and the guilt was eating him up. Clearly affecting him and Penelope was growing frustrated with his constant pacing.

“You’re more twitchy than normal.”

He let out a breathy laugh, delving into what exactly had happened between the two of you. Penelope was glaring at him, “I-I know, I was mean! And I didn’t really mean it I was just hurt. I dealt with it wrong.”

She huffed quietly, “You need to apologize.”

Spencer’s eyes looked frantic, he didn’t even know what to say to you, “Hey I have feelings for you and since you didn’t want me around you I felt hurt and in turn, I was a dick.”

“Now.”

She was pushing him out of the room, ignoring his protest and locking the door once he was out. He let his head fall onto the door and heard the muffled voice of Penelope through the door, “You can’t come in until the mission is complete.”

He turned from the door and let his eyes scan over the floor, he couldn’t see you.

“On her lunch.”

Emily didn’t even look up from the pile of paperwork and Spencer muttered out a quiet ‘Thank you.’

He was walking towards the lunchroom when JJ stopped him, an iced coffee in her hand, “She isn’t in there.”

His face scrunched up, “Does everyone know what happened?”

“Yes.”

“Where is she?”

“Hotch’s office.”

With that she walked alway and Spencer groaned quietly, you were avoiding him.

-

“And then he was going to call me a nuisance. I know he was, Morgan just got him to stop talking before he finished his sentence. Can you believe that?”

Hotch was trying not to laugh at you, “Yes well men are idiots.”

“You’re a man.”

“I’m the only exception.”

“Rossi too.”

He laughed quietly as you angrily stabbed your food, “I am never going to tell him now.”

“I thought there was nothing to tell?”

You glared at him, “Now out of my office, I have work to do.”

You huffed and made your way to leave, you knew he’d let you stay if you really wanted to but you still had work to do. “I will keep pairing you up with him if you don’t tell him.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Yes.”

You both laughed and you shut his door, stilling as you saw Spencer lingering around your desk. He sent you a small smile and you turned away from him, making your way towards the restroom. You couldn’t believe that all this was happening because of some stupid dream you had.

When you returned Spencer was no longer at your desk and you quickly jumped back into your work, hoping no more distractions came your way.

~

Thankfully, the rest of the day went without any interruptions. You tied your hair up and made yourself some coffee, you wanted to come in later tomorrow so you decided you’d stay as long as you needed to, to finish up your work. Slowly everyone began to gather their things and leave, and you tried not to think about how you had not seen Spencer leave.

Hotch and Rossi were talking quietly among themselves as they were walking out, “Late night?”

You nodded, “Just a few more files, I should be out here in like an hour more or less.”

“Have fun.”

You smiled at both of them and continued on with your work.

40 minutes had passed and you heard quiet arguing coming from Penelope’s office and then the door being pulled open and both her and Spencer walking out, turning away from the both of them to keep working.

You could hear them talking quietly amongst themselves and then Penelope spoke up, “Do you have a lot of work?”

“Just two files, im almost done.” You sent them a smile but it was mainly for Pen, they both knew it and Spencer was shifting awkwardly between his feet. “Perfect! You shouldn’t take too long and Spencer can help so you don’t stay here by yourself.”

“No.”

But Spencer was already walking towards you and you huffed quietly, “I don’t know why he would want to if he clearly thinks I just hold him back.”

He whined your name out quietly, asking you to stop. You turned back to Penelope to see she had already left, she sent you a thumbs up from the elevator and you slumped into your seat. You didn’t know if you were being childish but you were upset with him.

He took one of the files and you worked quietly next to each other, but you could feel his eyes on you every couple seconds. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t say anything. You had both finished the the file you were working on and you simply closed and we’re preparing to leave.

He was getting frustrated again, you could tell by the way he was wearing his bottom lip out and the way his arms were bawled up in fist. He hated when the people he cared about were upset with him, when you made your leave to walk away he had enough.

His hand had wrapped around your wrist and he pulled you in abruptly, causing you to curse under your breath. His arms had enclosed around you at the desk, not letting you leave.

He was so close his cologne had began to take up everything around you and you resisted letting your eyes close. You were looking up at him as he towered over you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said and I shouldn’t have said that! I don’t think you were slowing me down and everything else I said.”

His words were soft and frantic and there was guilt in his eyes and you huffed quietly. You forgave him, and he knew you had too. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I was being weird today too.” Your cheeks burned pink as you remembered your dream and you realized just how close he was to you. He noticed how your cheeks flushed and how you pushed yourself from him, although it didn’t help much. You were still so close. “Are you going to tell me why?”

“I don’t want to.”

You were playing with the ends of your hair, a nervous habit. “It’s embarrassing and I don’t want things to change between us.”

His face scrunched up in confusion and he removed his arms from around the desk, letting you leaving if you wanted to, but you didn’t and Spencer was glad you hadn’t. “I don’t think anything could make our relationship change. Unless you say Harry Potter is better than Star Wars.”

You both laughed quietly, things feeling normal again. “I had a dream about you-about us. And you were doing things, to me. And I just can’t get it out of my head and you’re distracting. And while I’m confessing I guess I should just tell you I’ve had feelings for you, that sounds so juvenile I hate it. But I’ve had feelings for you for the longest time and I kept trying to suppress it because we’re friends but we’re also colleagues and it would create so much tension and now I can’t stop talking because I’m nervous and you don’t feel the same because you aren’t saying anything, which is fine, I just needed to tell you.”

He was all over you in the next second, hand on your hips as he pressed himself against you and pressed you against the desk even more. The metal causing a slight sting, but that was the farthest thing from your mind. His lips had melted into yours and his tongue exploring your mouth. He let out a quiet moan as your rolled your tongue against his and tugged on his hair. He had sat you on the desk towards the edge and continued the assault on your lips, his hips rolling against yours and feeling a surge of confidence flow through all parts of his body at the moans and whimpers leaving your lips.

His fingers were fumbling with your belt and your hips bucking into his hand despite your words. “Spencer we’re in the office.”

“I don’t care.” His words were deep and heavy and you couldn’t bring yourself too either. As soon as he undid your belt he unbuttoned your pants, his hand slipping in and instantly pressing against your clothed center, his long fingers applying pressure to your pulsing core. The fabric adding friction as your hips moved with his hand. His eyes were glued to where his hand was and you lifted your hips, moaning as he pushed harder against you. “Take them off.”

He was helping you out of your pants when the two of you heard coughing to get your attention, jumping apart. There was a custodian who was looking anywhere but the two of you, his cheeks pink, “I clean this floor today.”

You fumbled with buttoning up your pants as Spencer tried his best not to laugh at your mortified face, “We’re really sorry, we didn’t know anyone else was still here.”

At this Spencer laughed and you shoved him away from you, still flustered as you grabbed your bags and made your way to leave, not being able to meet the eyes of the man who had caught the two of you.

Your thought were running a million miles in your mind but Spencer’s long fingers tangled with your and pulled you out of your spiral. “You okay?”

Your cheeks burned profusely as you waited for the elevator, “Oh come on, don’t tell me you’ve gone shy after the fact that I had my hand down your pants.”

“Spencer!” You whined and hid your face in his chest, he laugh rumbling all through his chest before he pulled you with him into the elevator. “I’m kidding, I like knowing I caused that.” His hand was rubbing softly against your cheek, his eyes flickering all over your face and he was leaning down again. His lips pressed softly onto yours and held you as close as he could, it was proving to be difficult between all the things you both were carrying. You bit down gently, pulling his lip with you and he huffed quietly, eyes closed as he savored the taste of your lips on his. “We have a lot to talk about.” He nodded and a dopey smile littered his face, “Are you tired to go out to eat?”

You shook your head no and you smiled at him as he took your hand in his again, “I know a great pizza place.”

“Sounds great, and by the way, Harry Potter is better than Star Wars.”

taglist: @swellwriting @carolinesbookworld @theboywhocriedlupin @awfulmoons @lumos-barnes @fortisfiliae @finnofamerica @beskarjedi @aperrywilliams @ta-ka-shi-ma (let me know if you’d like to be added <3)

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Quarantine: A Love Story {11}

Chris Evans x Reader Mini Series

Warning: Cursing, Plot, Angst, Scorching Slow Burn, Tease

Words: 6.2k

Note: Okay, so this ask/request came in and I was all prepped to write it as a one shot, but I had so many separate ideas that sprang to mind for it and from it. As of right now, I am going to play this one by ear. Hell, I might just keep writing it as long as we’re all in our quarantine/self-isolation. So, it might be one part every week, or I might change it. I honestly have no idea, so let’s start with calling it a mini-series and see where it goes. Thank you anon for the request, hope it’s cool I tweak, twist and stretch this out. 

I hope you guys enjoy this. Thank you for reading as always!!! ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Slightly Interactive***

**Images NOT My own. 2nd, 3rd, & 4th found Via Pinterest**

Previous Chapters:  Q1 |  Q2 |  Q3 |  Q4 |  Q5 |  Q6 |  Q7 |  Q8 |  Q9 | Q10 |

~~~~~~~~~~~

-Quarantine: Week Seven & A Half –

“I’m glad that you guys are doing okay, mom. Tell dad not to go on those walks with Mr. Beardsley. Tell him to stay his ass home,” you badgered.

 “You know that man does what he wants. The other day he was in the backyard building some abomination he calls a bird palace. Y/N, he made a three-story house for a bird,” your mother informed. You couldn’t help but laugh.

 “I sent you the picture. Look.”

 You put your cell on speaker and looked at the new message with the photo attached. The most hideous creation appeared on the screen. It was lopsided and looked like it had every board out of place.

“Oh, my goodness.”

 “Do you see? Then he had the nerve to ask me if he should paint it to make it more appealing.” You busted out laughing then. There was no way you could have held it in. All you could imagine was this atrocity painted yellow, blue, or even red.

 “I didn’t know what to tell him. He worked for hours on it,” your mother went on.

 “So, what did you go with?” The line was silent for a while before she sighed.

 “I told him to paint the damn thing rainbow colored. Told him it would attract more birds that way.”

 The two of you laughed together, not bothering to care how loud you were. After a few minutes, the two of you quieted down. You needed a good laugh.

 “How are you, darling?”

 “I’m fine, mom. Things are quiet as the world passes me by.”

 “So dramatic. Glad to see nothing has changed from when you were a child.”

 Rolling your eyes, you took a sip of your Arnold palmer and leaned back in the lounge beach chair. It was another beautiful day. Mother nature was laughing. While most of the world was locked away, unable to fully enjoy the great outdoors, she was serving Spring goals with upper seventy degree and sunny weather days. You were lucky to be near a beach and able to take advantage of it.

 “I’m not dramatic, I’m--,”

 “Just spirited, yeah, yeah yeah,” your mother filled in echoing the same words the same way you’d said them since you were six.

 “I don’t appreciate the shade, mom!”

 “Girl, watch your tone.” Pressing your lips together, you got your head on right. Your mother would slap you into next month if you played with her wrong.

 “What’s wrong? Is it Chris? Did he look at you and roll his eyes again?” She snickered, and you rolled your eyes again. She was always teasing you about the way you complained about Chris.

 “That boy is clearly head over heels in love with you. Anyone with one half good eye can see that.”

 “You don’t know what you’re talking about, mom.”

 “The hell I don’t. I am a woman too, Y/N. I know what a man looks like when he’s got it bad. I’ve been married to one for the last thirty-four years.”

 Taking another sip from your glass, you burrowed deeper into the chair and watched the waves roll onto the sand. The water was a lot calmer now in the afternoon than it had been earlier this morning, you thought.

 “All right, since you want to play dumb, and blind,” your mother sighed out.

 “Actually, mom, I have a question. Did you have Chris promise to stay away from me or something along those lines?”

 “Why would I do something like that?”

 “I don’t know, you tell me.”

 “I don’t know. Okay, wait—he has the reputation of being a ladies man.”

 “You mean a whore?”

 “Y/N!”

 “In twenty-twenty, we call people what they are. We don’t sugar coat. He has a reputation for being a whore.”

 “He’s a man, an unmarried one at that. He has no reason to be celibate. You also need to remember that just because someone appears to be living one way doesn’t mean that is really what it is,” your mother attempted to reason.

 “What does that mean?”

 “He could be sleeping around but doesn’t want to.”

 You snorted and shook your head. “So he’s being forced to sleep with every blonde, brunette, and occasional redhead he comes across?”

 You shook your head, realizing you were actually getting angry about it.

 “You sound jealous, babygirl. Jealous women aren’t attractive, plus your jealousy gives away how you really feel about him.”

 “Feel? Whatever mom. I don’t feel anything.”

 “Okay. Just remember the lies we tell will always be revealed.”

 You hated when she tapped into her ancestral priestess side and read you like a book. You knew you were lying. You knew you didn’t feel nothing. You felt something alright, but at the moment, you didn’t know just what it was.

 “To answer your question, no, I didn’t make him promise anything.”

 “Then who would?”

 “Maybe Scott. They’re brothers, and he knows Chris through and through. Maybe he was trying to protect you from becoming yet another notch.”

 You thought about her words. It was possible. Honestly, Scott was raising to the top of your list the more you thought about it. It felt like something he would do to protect you. The only thing you couldn’t understand was why he felt the need to make him promise. From the very beginning, everyone has always thought Chris just didn’t like you. The way he acted toward you and spoke about you did not scream that Scott had something to worry about. Since there was no evidence to how Chris felt, then why would Scott make him promise something like that, you wondered.

 “Can I take this conversation as you having ended things with that other one?”

 Groaning, your head went back to Charles. Things with him were still up in the air. When you made a break from someone, there was nothing left suspended. You made a quick, clean break, usually disappearing without a trace. Everything was just weird. Part of you felt as if you were being too cold with him and that you should give him a genuine chance. Then when you thought that, Chris’s face popped into your head as a reason not to. It was like there was this war inside of you between two guys.

 “The other one is—focusing on himself right now.”

 “Ah, you kept your wall up, and he got frostbite from being left out in the cold, and he gave you an ultimatum.”

 “I hate when you do that.”

 “Don’t hate the player, gate the game. Honey--,” your mother began before you cut her off.

 “I don’t want to hear it, mom. Not now.”

 “Okay. You’re an adult, old enough to make your own decisions and mistakes. You don’t need your mother’s wise years of experience and words to help guide your way so you don’t make as many mistakes as others would. I understand.”

 This was the guilt trip no one had mastered like your mother. She could guilt you with so little. Sighing loudly, you finished off the glass. “Fine, mom, go ahead. Priestess me.”

 “Maybe use this quarantine time to figure out why you’ve always cared so much what Chris Evans thought of you. Think about what it is you want from your life—for your life. What’s important, babygirl? Maybe the way you’ve lived these last years is not the most conducive to getting what you really want. Maybe you need to open up, lower those walls, give people a chance instead of expecting them to disappoint and hurt you, pull them closer instead of pushing them away. Take a chance on what you really want.”

 You sat there letting her words resonate. You knew she knew what she was talking about, and you knew it was all coming from a place of love, but it didn’t stop the feeling of being attacked. You hated when she was right.

 “You’ve always liked Chris. This is what this is about,” you accused.

 “That is not true. I don’t care that every time I’ve met him, he’s been respectful, kind, and sincere. I don’t care that every Christmas he sends us a gift, and every New Year a card. I don’t care that he also does the same for our birthdays and anniversaries. I don’t care that he’s shown to be a good man despite his philandering ways.”

 “Wait, wait, wait. He’s what?”

 “What?”

 “Mom. He’s sent you guys gifts and cards?”

 “Yeah, I thought you knew. He also comes by and checks on us from time to time when he’s in town and calls when he’s out of town sometimes,” your mother revealed.

 You were floored. You didn’t know any of this. Your head began to spin, making you feel like you’d put more than a few ounces of rum in the glass. The ringing in your ears did nothing to help matters. All you could hear was your mother’s confession echoing in your head.

 “Y/N! Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

 You took a few shaky breathes and did your best to calm down. “I’m fine. I just—I didn’t know any of that.”

 “Oh. So he’s been doing all this in secret and not to impress you?”

 You rubbed your forehead and pinched your nose bridge.

 “That means that Air B&B in Los Angeles your father and I stayed at when we went on vacation last year was probably not just a normal Air B&B.”

 “What?”

 “He set it up for us, said he got a great deal and took care of everything. It was beautiful. Do you think it was his house?”

 You remembered that trip. Your parents sent you picture after picture of the view and the interior of the house. You wanted to go back to them now and play detective.

 “Oh my god. I had no idea about any of this.”

 “Now that you know, what’re you going to do with it?”

 Again, your eyes went back to the water, and in seconds, you’d zoned out. “I’ll call you tomorrow, mom. Call me if anything. I love you.”

 You sat there for several long minutes just allowing the conversation to swirl in your head. When the words quieted, and your internal freak out settled you scrolled through your phone to the pictures you’d saved because you liked the décor. It took a few minutes, but when you found the set, you sat there zooming in to the max to analyze every inch of the picture. Nothing gave it away to be Chris’s house. Nothing pointed to it not being a run of the mill Air B&B. It was very nice, though. In the last picture, you zoomed in and saw something in the wall that could have been a picture of Chris and his siblings when they were younger, but from the picture, it was blurry, and you really couldn’t make it out. You could have latched on to that and deduced it was his house, but you were scared to face that fact.

 For the last three years, while he was being a world-class asshole to you, he was being a prince to your parents. You couldn’t wrap your head around his strategy. If he liked you the way he professed what in his mind said the way to get you was to be a dick to you but make your parents fall in love. It made no sense.

 When you finally got up from the chair, the sun was beginning to make its descent behind the horizon. You had maybe an hour before nightfall. You intended to go back to the guesthouse to shower and just mellow out, but your legs decided to walk. When you looked around, you were surrounded by trees and greenery. You had no idea where you were or how long you’d been walking or in what direction you walked. After spinning around a few times, you noticed the worn path before you.

 “Where the hell am I?”

 Continuing forward, you followed the path that looked like feet had traveled plenty of times. The further you walked, the less condensed the trees and bushes became, and the more your curiosity rose. After another ten or so minutes, you came to a thicket before you that looked to block your path, but upon more observation, you saw the worn path you’d been walking on continued underneath it. There was something behind it.

 You pushed at the bushes that were entwined within branches and were shocked when it gave way easier than you expected. They parted like a gate. It was a gate. Before your eyes was the quaintest structure you’d ever seen.

 “Holy shit!”

 You stood there, marveling at the tiny house in front of you. Tiny wasn’t even the right word for it. The tiny house trend applied to school buses or shipping containers, not this. This looked like an off the grid, half house, or treehouse. You didn’t know what the fuck you were looking at. You continued walking forward while spinning around to take in your surroundings. The entire area was quarantined off with tall, thick bushes, trees, branches, and vines. It was incredible.

 The more you looked around, the more you fell under its spell. It was beautiful and one with nature. When you got close enough to the house, you could see scratch marks on the deck. You knew they were from Dodger. This must have been where Chris disappeared to. Stepping onto the deck, you took notice of the two Adirondack chairs, one blue the other red. Trailing your fingertips across them, you continued walking around. Every detail and item you saw, you could picture him either using it or sitting on it.

When you got to the door, you contemplated if you should go inside. This was not your property. You were snooping. It wasn’t right, but your curiosity again won out. When you turned the knob, it moved. It wasn’t locked. You stepped over the threshold and gaped at the space. It wasn’t as big as the big house, but it was in no means cramped. The wooden floors and walls gave you a feeling of comfort. Everything laid around screamed down to earth. It was the vibe Chris always gave off when he wasn’t being a dick.

 You looked around what was the living room, and then made your way to a galley kitchen that screamed man. It had the necessities, a stovetop, fridge, dishwasher, a conventional oven, and a sink. The butcher’s block countertop gave you the idea it had been used often. As you made your way through the dwelling, you took notice of a small bathroom that had no luxury, a toilet, a tub, a sink, and an incredible view. When you made it to what you knew was the bedroom, his scent bombarded you. It was the same scent from his bedroom in the house, pine, fresh air, fragrant wood, chocolate, hops, and something that you still hadn’t been able to pinpoint in all the years you’d known him.

 You wandered around the room, looking at everything you saw. The things in here looked a lot more personal than of that was in his room before. You saw a signed baseball, family pictures, empty bottles of beer, toiletries, and papers that were strewn around. It took every ounce of strength to ignore the bed in the room no matter how loud it called your name. You wanted to roll around in his sheets and wrap yourself in them, but you knew if you did that, you’d probably never get out of the bed. Without being able to control yourself, you approached it, climbing the few steps to it and touched one of the plaid shirts that were resting at the foot of the bed.

 “Don’t do it, Y/N.” As soon as the words left your mouth, the head ignored them and did just what you’d said not to. You took in a deep whiff of his shirt and moaned. Fuck, it smelled so good that your mouth actually watered. Disgustedly you threw the shirt and stomped out of the room, cursing his name.

 The more you saw, the more you liked, and the more you liked, the more you wanted to see him in it. You wanted to watch as he cooked in the kitchen, watch as he sat in the Adirondack chair, wanted to watch as he drank bottle after bottle of beer while sitting in that leather chair with a book or his laptop. You wanted to watch how he fit in that tub; it seemed impossible. You wanted more than you’d wanted in months, years—ever.

 You opened the fridge and took out one of the many bottles of beer and hit it on the side of the butcher block countertop and took several healthy gulps. When you brought it back down, what you saw took your breath away. The view of the sun setting was breathtaking. You walked out to the front deck and sat in one of the chairs and just watched mother nature’s artwork across her natural canvas.

 Before you knew it, you’d watched the sky turn from beautiful hues of purple, orange, pink and red to a navy color with specks of white. You couldn’t get over how the stars were so bright here. You were so lost in the view that when you heard Chris’s voice, you actually jumped.

 “Shit!” Your scream was loud, and before you knew it, you’d flung the bottle at him.

 “Woah!” You heard it shatter, and Dodger burst into a flurry of howls. You clasped your hands over your mouth in shock.

 “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

 “Jesus, they should have signed you to the Dodgers, maybe we’d have won more,” Chris teased.

 “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you repeated. Chris ticked his tongue, signaling Dodger to calm down. Like the good pup he was, he came to Chris’s side and sat then pranced over to you to lick across your cheek.

 “Hi, Dodger. How are you, boy? I’m sorry I scared you.” As if he was saying he accepted your apology, he continued licking at your face.

 “What’re you doing here? How’d you find this place?”

 His questions were serious ones. You avoided his eyes and focused on Dodger, hoping he wasn’t too angry at your trespassing.

 “Uh—well, see what had happened was—I was walking and not really paying attention, and I just—found it.”

 “Just found it? It’s a ways away from the main house. How’d you even know which direction to walk?”

 “I didn’t. I’m telling the truth, I didn’t make a plan to walk this way, I was wandering and came across it.”

 Chris didn’t speak again for a little while, but you could feel his eyes on you. Risking it, you glanced at him, and sure enough, his eyes were on you. “And you helped yourself to a beer.”

 “Yeah. I’m sorry. I know it was an invasion of your privacy and trespassing. I’m sorry.” He didn’t speak, but his eyes looked cold. He was angry.

 “Look, I’ll go. I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry to impose.” You stuttered as you got to your feet and began walking to the same thicket you’d walked through.

 After a few quick steps, he called your name.

 “It’s okay, Chris,” you answered without stopping or looking back.

 “Go get her, Dodge.” Dodger barked and tramped to you, blocking your path, hopping up on his hind legs to gently claw at your abdomen.

 “Down Dodger.”

 Ignoring you, Dodger kept clawing at you before he got hold of a piece of your shirt pulling you back toward the house. Your protests didn’t matter, and you were actually pretty surprised with how strong he was. He’d been taking it easy on you this whole time. When he was back beside Chris, he let you go and circled the two of you before he sat blocking your path to your escape.

 “Good boy,” Chris muttered, scratching behind his ear. “I’m sorry if I came off terse, I was just surprised. I wasn’t expecting to see you sitting on my deck.”

 “No, you have no reason to apologize. I understand. This is your place. I should have turned my ass around a long time ago. No wonder you’re mad.”

 “Y/N, shut up. I’m not mad. Surprised. Come on.” Chris walked ahead of you onto the deck and toward the door with Dodger on his heels. When he realized you weren’t following him and Dodger, he stopped and looked to you.

 “What’s the problem?”

 “Uh—nothing.”

 “Aren’t you coming?”

 “I wasn’t—planning to,” you responded.

 “Come on. It’s dinner time. Let me feed you.”

 That was all it took for your mind to go into the gutter and your eyes to drop to his crotch. He must have known too because his hips jutted forward. You had to bite your tongue extra hard, not to say what you really wanted to say.

“Jesus, you’re killing me,” Chris grunted before he walked inside, leaving the door open for you.

 Like an idiot, you stood there. You didn’t know what to do. If you went inside, you were worried you’d do something you couldn’t take back. He didn’t come back out or say anything else. After about ten minutes, you slowly walked inside and closed the door behind you. The coast was clear. You walked more in and around the corner and saw Chris in the kitchen with his back turned busy making whatever dinner was.

 “Took you long enough. That’s yours,” he said as he turned and slopped two rounded meat circles on the stovetop. It instantly sizzled and smoked. Beside the stovetop, you saw an opened bottle of beer. It was like he knew you’d come in.

 “If you took any longer, it would have gotten warm. There’s nothing worse than warm beer.”

 “Really? I could think of plenty of things,” you responded before you took a swig.

 “Like what?” Chris plopped two more meat circles on the stovetop to add to the sizzle.

 Monetarily lowering the bottle, you said the first thing that came to mind. “Blue Balls.”

 Once he heard it, he looked at you. There was amusement in his eyes, but his lips were not giving anything away.

“Oh, so you’ve had blue balls.”

 “What you think women can’t get blue balls? We can.”

 “And you’ve had it?”

 “Have you?” Your counter question had him scoffing before he took a long gulp from his beer.

 “I’m a man in his thirties, of course, I’ve had blue balls,” he admitted.

 You finished your beer, hoping it would stop you from asking a highly personal question.

 “How many burgers usually fill you up?”

 You hopped onto the island and crossed your legs. “How many fill you up?”

 “I’m a big boy,” Chris began.

 “I’ve heard.”

 His smile was an embarrassed one. He looked away from you and to the stovetop to focus on the burgers. You watched him add three more meat circles to it and watched on as he tended to them. When he sprinkled several seasonings on the patties, you smiled. There were plenty of people who didn’t season burger meat with anything but salt and pepper. He’d gone far beyond salt and pepper; you were relieved. In no time, the house filled up with the smell of juicy burgers. Your belly rumbled, bringing his attention back to you.

 “Hungry, huh.”

 “More than you’ll ever know.” The two of you stared for a few long moments before he looked away.

 “Since I know you don’t do a salad with your burgers, if you open the freezer drawer, you’ll find some onion rings. Think you can manage popping them in the oven?”

 Obliging him, you did as he asked. The two of you moved around the galley kitchen together. His body was tight, and it looked like he was taking extra care not to bounce you. Every time you got close to touching him, he slinked away from you, creating more space. The first and second time he did it, you found it interesting. By the ninth and tenth, you were amused and ready to tease the shit out of him.

 Noticing his bottle was empty, you bent inside the fridge and took two more out. When you handed him the opened bottle, you peered into his eyes flirtatiously. You didn’t know why but something about him brought out your flirtatious side. You wanted to tease him and make him beg for you. When he took the bottle, he took a sip while keeping his eyes on you. The only reason he looked away was the scent of the burgers charring too quickly.

 The sound of the conventional oven’s bell had you slinking past him grazing his body with your hip. You heard him hiss out felt his body tense. He was easy, you thought. Once you’d taken the onion rings out, you brought them to the back deck, ensuring to play up the sway of your hips. When you walked back, Chris looked to you.

 “These are practically done,” he informed.

 “Then you need a plate.” You walked behind him toward one of the cupboards. “Which one?”

 “The one on top,” Chris answered.

 You reached to the top but still couldn’t reach the platter that was there. After a few moments of struggle, you heard a scoff.

 “Too short?” You felt his presence before you felt him. The heat of his body was an unexpected but welcomed feeling. “Don’t worry, I got you,” Chris whispered before his body pressed against your back.

 A sigh escaped you that ended on a groan. Then you felt his crotch press against your ass. Your eyes closed, and you bent just a little, so your ass pressed more prominently against him. Chris’s groan was the clue you needed to know he liked what he felt. Neither of you moved. You both just froze and relished the feel of your bodies pressed together in this new way. You felt his beard tickle the exposed skin of the nape of your neck, and you’d never wanted someone to bite and mark you as much as you wanted it now. He didn’t bite you, though. You waited and waited, but still, the dull ache of his bite never came. He did press his lips to your ear. You heard him take a deep breath before he spoke.

 “You’re not the only one who can tease, Y/N.” It was a guttural whisper that lingered in the air as long as his body lingered against yours. You were sure your panties were flooded, and that was when he moved from you, leaving you with an ache between your legs you knew was going to bother you all night. You looked up, and the platter was gone.

 “Maybe you can grab the beers and meet on the deck,” Chris suggested as he walked away, leaving you in the kitchen with your desires.

 When you walked out back, you had two six-packs of beer in one hand and a bottle of whiskey you’d found on one of the shelves. Chris wasn’t there, and your grumpy ass didn’t care. Wasting no time, you popped the cork of the whiskey and poured yourself a glass full before you knocked it back. The burn was excruciating but wonderful. It distracted you from the ache in another place.

The two of you ate in mostly silence. Your thoughts were miles away, thinking of what happened in the kitchen and how easily he’d turned the tables on you. When your mind wandered to your conversation with your mother from earlier, you decided to bring it up.

 “Why didn’t you ever tell me you check in on my parents and send them gifts and cards?”

 Chris slowed his chew no doubt using the extra time to think of what he was going to say. After almost a minute, he swallowed.

 “It’s not a big deal. I was brought up to be respectful.”

 “Respectful is answering yes ma’am and no sir. What you’ve been doing goes above and beyond. Why do you do it?”

 “Why?”

 “Yeah. Everyone does everything for a reason. What was your angle?”

 Chris scoffed and shook his head, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he put onion ring after onion ring in his mouth as he stared at you. The fact that he wasn’t answering was getting to you, and he knew it. His smirk appeared.

 “Well?”

 “Who hurt you, Y/N?”

 Your jaw dropped. It was an unexpected question. “What?”

 “You heard me. Who hurt you? What was his name so I can find him and beat his ass.”

 “No one—no one hurt me.”

 “Bullshit. There is no way you’re like this for no reason,” Chris countered.

 “Like what?”

 “So distrustful, so skeptical or everyone.”

 “How do you know it’s of everyone and not just you?” Chris stopped mid-chew and stared at you.

 “Okay. Is it just me you’re like this with? Are you like this with him?”

 You knew he meant Charles. He always referred to Charles as “him.”

 “None of your business,” you retorted. Chris snorted.

 “Nah, you’re like this with him too. So, who hurt you?”

 Feeling naked and vulnerable, you poured another glass of the whiskey and gulped it. This was not a conversation you wanted to have.

 “Okay. I didn’t have an angle. I like your parents; I respect your parents. I wanted to do some nice things for them. I was able, so I did.”

 “Just like the Air B&B?”

 He nodded, confirming it. “Look, if I overstepped, tell me. I’ll stop.”

 You thought about it for a few moments and sighed. “It’s fine. I’m sorry for being a bitch. I just—I appreciate you looking out for them.”

 Chris studied you then nodded. The silence between you stretched for minutes.

 “So it wasn’t my parents who made you promise to stay away from me. That leaves Scott or someone else in your family.”

 Chris sighed and leaned back. “It doesn’t matter.”

 “It does,” you countered.

 “Why? What does it matter? You hate me, end of story. Me promising to stay away from you means nothing because staying away from you would have been inevitable,” Chris ranted.

 “I never said I hate you.”

 “You sure act like it.”

 That stung, but it was true. You did act like you hated him. In hindsight, you saw it was your defense mechanism. If he hated you, you’d hate him right back that way, it didn’t matter how he treated you; you wouldn’t feel any way about it. That was all biting you in the ass now.

 “Three years, huh,” you broke the silence with.

 “Three years,” Chris repeated.

 “This is bizarre.”

 “Why?”

 “All this time I’ve thought things were one way when they were the opposite,” you explained.

 “If you don’t hate me, what do you feel?”

 Staring at him, you swirled the glass and thought about just what it was you felt. You knew attraction and desire were in there, but you didn’t know what else. You gulped down the rest of the whiskey and chased it with your beer and groaned.

 “I don’t know what I feel, Chris. That’s a problem for me. I always know what I feel. I always know what I want. I have no clue right now. It’s like I’m out of control. I hate being out of control. I want all the control.”

 “What will make you feel like you have the control?”

 “The fuck if I know. I was doing fine thinking you were a dick, and now I don’t think you’re a dick. I don’t know what to think when I think of you anymore. This doesn’t even matter because you’re supposed to stay away from me anyway.” You stood and walked across the deck, facing your back to him while staring out to the darkness in the trees.

 “It’s the hardest promise to keep. You have no idea. For the last three years, I’ve wanted to do the opposite. I’ve wanted you in so many moments. I was at a premiere a few months ago, and I wanted you to be there with me. I’m lying in my bed, and I imagine what it would be like if you were laying next to me. I’m grocery shopping and think about you doing it with me. I see you in so many moments, and I want you in too many of them.”

 Holy shit, you thought. In less than two minutes, he’d managed to take your breath away. You turned, and there he was, less than two feet from you.

 “Holy shit, Chris,” you whispered.

 “I know, that was heavy, but it is just a fraction of what’s going on in my head, in my--.” Clenching his jaw, he looked away from you to the deck floor to shuffle his feet.

 “This is new for me, Y/N. It’s new, and it’s only with you.”

 As if someone was pulling at the invisible string between you, both of you drifted to each other, closing the space there. Your faces were now inches apart, and with every passing second, those inches disappeared until your foreheads were pressed together.

 “Fuck it, I’m going to break this promise,” Chris whispered before his lips crashed to yours.

 It was like an “aha” moment. As soon as your lips touched, the wind picked up and blew ferociously around you and through the trees. The kiss was an exploratory one, a timid one—one that reeked of apprehensiveness and fear. Both of you were reluctant to cross the line, but you both knew the line was going to be so far behind you in a matter of seconds. That was the definition of inevitable.

 The kiss intensified, and soon the fight was between your lips. You both were battling for control over the other, and neither of you was letting up and giving in. When you heard his deep moan, yours was unleashed seconds later. Chris’s hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush against him before his other hand clasped the base of your skull to kiss you more fervently.

 Before you knew it, you’d backed him to the picnic table you were just eating on and had pressed his back to it. When you climbed onto the table and straddled him, Chris groaned and pulled at your hair, making you moan louder and want more from him. The way he kissed you had you feeling as if you’d just woken up from a long sleep, a sleep that had held you captive for far too long. You were famished. As your hips began to grind on him, Chris groaned loudly, sat up, stood, and turned you to the table. With your legs wrapped around his back, Chris grabbed your exposed thigh and squeezed before he pulled you to the edge of the table. You now felt his need, and you were ready.

 When your hands dropped to his pants to undo them, he allowed you. Once you’d unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and was ready to dip your hand inside, Chris groaned and pulled away from you.

 “Mmm, no.”

 “What!”

 “Jesus fucking Christ.”

 “Come here,” you bartered.

 He looked like he was weak as he took a few steps to you, but before you could touch him, he pulled away again.

 “Wait, wait, wait.” You spread your legs wider, tired of waiting. Chris’s eyes dropped to your opened legs, and the clench of his jaw returned, only this time the context was different.

 “Y/N,” Chris whined, but he came closer until you laced your fingers behind his neck and plastered your lips to his. This time you took control of the kiss, you dictated how much he got and as you swirled your tongue around his then sucked it you felt his defiance give way until he was again kissing you with as much urgency as you kissed him.

 “Take off your pants,” you whispered against his lips. He groaned his response, but he didn’t move to obey.

 “Take—them—off—daddy.” Again, he groaned, and you felt him grip the back of your neck before his hand moved to your throat to gently hold you there.

 “Say it again.” His voice was gruff as your eyes locked.

 “Daddy.” Everything in his eyes spoke of a dangerous desire, one that you wanted all parts of.

 “Not like this, Y/N,” Chris whispered, pressing his forehead to yours.

 “What?”

 “You don’t want me like this. You don’t deserve this.”

 “This? Deserve?” Chris kissed you again and continued to suck the air from your lungs while replacing it with unadulterated desire.

 “You deserve better than this. Let me give it to you.”

 You looked at him, half confused as to what he was hinting at and even more confused why he was talking and not stripping.

 “Chris--,” you began before he pulled away yet again.

 “Let me be better for you—with you.”

 “How?”

 “A date,” Chris announced.

 “A date? In quarantine? What?”

 “Let me worry about it. Let me wine you and dine you and show you how you should feel about me,” Chris proposed. You sat there horny and unable to think past what you wanted between your thighs.

 “Fuck, Chris. Are you really saying no to this—to me?”

 “Trust me; I can’t believe I’m saying this or even doing this. I don’t know what the hell has gotten into me. I just know I don’t want to just—,” Chris said as he moved his hands around, hoping you got the gist. “Ya know, it feels wrong with you. I want to do this right; I want to do right by you.”

 “And a date is doing right?”

 “It’s a start,” Chris added.

 You were speechless. You were also out of your depth here with him. He was blowing your mind and going against every preconceived notion you’d had of him from rumors and internet sites and even stories from Scott and your friends. You didn’t know the man standing before you.

 “What do you say?”

 You covered your face with your hands and rubbed it hoping to clear away the haze that seemed reluctant to go away. “Fine.”

 “Okay, fine.” His smile was beautiful, so beautiful it did things to you that had your belly doing backflips.

 “Fuck,” you whispered.

 “Come on, let me walk you back.”

 You rolled your eyes half hating him, but you allowed him to walk you back.

 The entire walk you were miles away thinking about what almost happened and what you still wanted to happen. When Chris said good night at the door of the guesthouse, he lingered in the doorway, clearly questioning his resolve to leave. The way he looked at you made your skin tingle and your heart race. One man definitely shouldn’t have this much power over women. He was like pure sex on a walking stick. You wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anyone before him—including Charles. That thought was enough for you to run for the hills, but thanks to the wetness between your legs, you remained there and tempted him to give in. When he sighed and dipped his head, you knew he wasn’t going to.

 “Good night, Y/N.” Chris came closer and kissed your forehead before he walked off. Deep down you knew it was going to be a restless and painful night. When you closed the door, you pressed your back on it and groaned out.

 “Motherfucker! I want to fuck my best friend’s brother.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List: 

@chaneajoyyy @sonjashuterbugjohnson @disneysdarlingdiva @bellaamor88 @toniilaney @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @ajspencer1892 @ashanti-notthesinger @90sinspiredgirl @titty-teetee @evemej @areubeingserved @theskullgoddess @caramara3 @champagnesugamama @minton131 @pananegra @scoop93535 @try-n-pronounce-it @dumbchick @behindthesehazeleyes27 @blackmissfrizzle @nervousninjatheorist @dangerouslovefanfic  @surmya1907 @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls @thinkxlovexloud @chris-butt @swinchestersgirl @momobaby227 @alyxkbrl @angrybirdcr @d1ff3r3nt-b34uty-official @twinx007 @a-dizzle777 @ab-baybay @patzammit @kreolemami @aysha1447 @cutewylie @disaster-rose @wondersofdreaming @lo-cheu @livinglifeformemyselfandi @magdelen69 @snowpiercer21 @renfrewscorner @thevelvetseries @mery-be @hakunalive4eva @anandalambert @youurkryptonite @mizcaptainphoenix @bobbdylann @emilykjhgsj @littlepreciousangel @ssaarroonn @thummbelina @sweetlittlegingy @art-estrange @torntaltos @rynabarnesrogers @rororo06 @anotherblackfangirl @bernie-k @theonewithherheadintheclouds @hista-girl  @coldmuffinbanditshoe @jennmurawski13 @deathstroke-terminated-deez-guts @maxcullen @shadyskit @someone-really-bored @thejemersoninferno @itsallyscorner @cristinagronk16 @shakemeupthanks-blog @acciolove724 @straightforwardly @zsuzstyina @acevansss @evansgirl7 @jovanaprime @deadlymistress24 @sunkissedebony97 @turn-thy-paige @amelatonin @nerdybitchpudding @amennariee @likesfairytales @maverickabull @est1887 @periodtcevans @thotti3par7on @vintageembrace @produtofchina @jd-now-jq @winchwm @jesseswartzwelder @pivictorious @anat2507 @euh-say-what-now @raveviolet @rdjparker @actorinfluence @sadishdelray @041802 @ljstraightnochaser @priya212 @evermcfearless @tashawar @dwights-new-plague @renfrewscorner @baby-iyania @euphoric05  @thelilbutifulthings @winterboobear11 @awaywithtime​ @problackasfwilson @brownskinafro @miss-jackson500 @siempremamita  @theladybiers @evermcfearless @ibe-erynn @marvelatthis30 @kailyndavillier @literaturefeen @richonne4life @ani808 @scifi-fantasist @mizzzpink @creolemimi @cessamjrmr @disconectedswift @i-lie-here-charmed @bamakakechick @captainchrisstan @martinafigoli @almosttherebunot @letsdothemostermash @spxcecxramxl @queenwinchester27 @chrisevansfanfic @thejeneralvicinity @doublesidedscoobysnacks @sophiealiice @imaslutforcaptainamerica @redhairedfeistynerd  @mirmirmur @nico-diangelo-grey @ibe-erynn @amazonian-strap-queen @cookinggurl43 @jasmindaughteroftheworld @letsdothemonstermash @almosttherebutnot @munteanhore @blackgurlkillinit @madixii @cessamjrmr @smediumsmeatbae

***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. I’m sorry.

[selfwriting-sugarquills]

Bruises.

request: “hi there lovely! I've just came across your blog and would love to give you a request!! maybe something along the lines of the reader being a family friend if the weasleys for years and they've taken her under their wing at school and she gets into a physical fight with some other person that was making fun of the w.fam for their money situation and she gets detention with umbridge. when she comes out thought george kisses her and thanks for? ty lovie?!!” 

word count: 2.278 

warnings: mild violence, not really proofread

A/N: listen, I just want to say that obviously not all Slytherins are mean bullies, we all know that by now, right? for the sake of the plot these particular ones are bad xxx 

Sound was erupting from everywhere around you as Gryffindor won against Slytherin. Mostly you could hear the yells of dismay and catcalls from Slytherin mixing with the roar from the Gryffindor stand. down on the pitch you saw the teams land on the ground, the Gryffindor team looking only somewhat happy amidst the chaos, all of them landing around Harry to check on him after being hit by a bludger in the last second of the game, though their concern quickly turned into annoyance as Malfoy swooped down in front of the group, saying something to them, though the crowd and the distance made it impossible for you to make out what that something was. Instinctively you found the two redheaded twins you called your best friends and going on the stiff looks on their faces, whatever Malfoy was saying wasn’t very sportsmanlike. 

“This isn’t going to be pretty,” You say to yourself as you hurry down to the pitch, quickly  dodging between disappointed Gryffindors and breaking into a sprint when you reach the grass of the playing field. 

You’re too slow though, in the seconds it takes you to reach the team, Harry lets go of George and the two take on Malfoy, both of them quickly overpowering him until he’s lying on the ground, you can’t do anything other than help Angelina, Katie and Alicia hold Fred, who’s still struggling to break free and get to Malfoy, and yell out for George and Harry to stop, not because you have much pity for Malfoy, knowing he probably deserved every hit that he got judging by the boy’s harsh reaction, but rather because you fear Umbridge’s tyranny, and the punishment she’ll give Harry and George. If speaking out of turn got you the blood quill, as it had been named by your fellow students, then you didn’t want to imagine what outright violence got you, let alone two against one. You held onto Fred for what felt like an eternity before a blast from Madam Hooch’s wand knocked down George and Harry who both landed with heavy ‘thump’s on the grass. 

“I’ve never seen such behavior before! Up to the castle, straight to your heads of house’s office, both of you immediately! Go on!” Madam Hooch screamed at the two boys, who picked themselves up and took off, in the meantime, Fred seemed to calm down, all you still holding onto his clothes for good measure while you headed towards the changing rooms, 

“I-I’d better go back up to the castle,” you say, “I’ll see you all in the common room, alright?” 

The group bids you goodbye and you turn to join the stream of students walking up towards the castle. 

As you walk, the whole episode plays over and over again in your head. You’d never seen the twins so angry before, let alone had you never seen them being physically violent in that way. You’d known them since you were about eight, your parents were good friends of the Weasley’s and one summer, whilst your own house was having some construction done, the Weasley’s had offered to let your family stay with them. You’d been shy and had mostly kept to yourself until the twins beckoned you into their room to see their newest fireworks they’d gotten from Romania as a gift from Charlie. It had been incredibly easy to befriend the twins and years later you’d still consider them your best friends and you knew them to be some of the most easy going and happy people at Hogwarts so seeing George beat up Malfoy was new. You felt a pang of worry at the thought of George and the twisted devices Umbridge had surely set up to use on him as punishment, Malfoy was a favorite of hers after all, surely she wouldn’t treat this like any of the twin’s other antics. You’d developed a crush on George over the past year or so and just like befriending him, you’d found that falling in love with him had been more than easy,  it was hard not to, really. You’d first realised you’d loved him when you’d had a really terrible couple of days, your essays had come back with bad marks despite you really having tried to understand the subject, hoping to get use the n.e.w.t to get your dream job, though at that moment it had seemed impossible with the ‘Poor’ marked on the parchment, then you’d received some harsh criticism from Snape, not that you’d normally care but in midst of your crisis with your essays, you’d let it get to you, and George had noticed, of course he had, he had a knack of reading you better than Fred - or anyone else - could. He’d sneaked you out after the sun had gone down, and together you went to Hogsmeade, walking the wet cobblestones together for what seemed like ages. He bought you sweets and sat with you in the three broomsticks until well after midnight, just talking and watching the various customers come and go. 

“Why’d you take me here? I mean, not that I don’t appreciate it, I just-” you halted, your breathing never worked quite right when he looked you in the eye, “-why are you doing all this for me?” you ask, swallowing hard when his lips form a smile that honestly makes your heart stop. He thinks for a minute, allowing you to breathe again when his eyes move away to glance out over the three broomstick’s interior, the hag half asleep over her fifth scotch, the shifty cardplayers in the very back, sluggishly teasing each other earning them a warning from madam Rosmerta when their ale spills over, then back to you with your red nose and cheeks from the cold, your hair slightly frizzy from the wind, 

“to get away from everything, I think,” He says, “sometimes it’s nice to just leave everything you know behind for a bit, you know?” He looks at you and when you don’t answer he continues, 

“Sometimes, when I’m back home, it can get a bit too much, with my family and everything. Especially if you’re upset, it’s tough when you don’t even have a room you can shut yourself up in, except for maybe the bathroom,” he lets out a stout chuckle, then his expression softens again, “so, sometimes when I’m upset, I sneak out, and just walk through the fields until I can see the city in the distance, and I just sit, like we are, and it helps to be away, just for a little bit, and then when I feel better, I go back home and the strange thing is, that when I come back, Fred is always up and waiting for me, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so thankful to have a twin…” He falters, and realises he’s rambling, “I don’t know, I just thought you’d like to get some fresh air,” he adds, his ears turning red but you don’t say anything. You just stare at him whilst your heart hammers away at your ribs because for the first time you’ve realised how much he means to you. 

You’d never told him any of that, though. That night you’d walked back to the castle together as if everything was the same, though you could never focus again whenever he’d put his arm around you and your heart still stopped in its tracks when his eyes met yours. 

“If you ask me, then this just proves Malfoy’s point,” a voice says behind you, you turn and look and see a group of Slytherin girls walking together, “I mean attacking him like that just because he’d been giving them some slander, if that doesn’t scream “I was raised in a pigsty” then I don’t know what does,” the girl says, her friends letting out barks of laughter, “honestly what did Draco expect, haven’t you seen their pranks? they’re practically barbaric. Probably fight over scraps of food the poor things,” 

“Shut up!” You spun around to face the three girls, neither of whom looked threatened by your outburst, 

“What gives you the right to speak about them like that? As far as I’m aware none of you even know them,” you sneer, earning belittling giggles from the three of them,

“I think we’ve seen enough to know what type of people they are, after all they hang out with little Potty and that Granger girl, it figures,” 

“what figures,” 

“That they clearly struggle to comprehend what wizards are worth spending time with, though who can blame them? with those parents I’m surprised they even know their ABC’s- OOF!” 

You hadn’t realised your hand was flying upwards until it hit the girl’s face knocking her backwards a few steps while she cupped her nose, blood beginning to trickle out between her fingers, staring at you with a shocked expression for a few seconds before her friend shoved you, yelling something you couldn’t hear over the pulse banging on your eardrums, in your rage you didn’t hesitate to lash out after her friend who swiped quickly at you and hit you square on the cheekbone, though you managed to land a punch in her eye before you, too, were knocked backwards by a spell. 

“MISS L/N!” Snape’s voice echoed across the grounds, Sprout and Flitwick at his heels, “what on earth do you think you’re doing?!” his voice boomed, making you wince as the pain from your cheekbone begins to register, “Your housemates displaying the worst of your houses wasn’t enough for us, was it? Thought we’d join in on the fun? Fifty points from Gryffindor and 20 from Slytherin for good measure! L/n you’re heading straight to professor McGonagall’s office! and you three go to the hospital wing at once!” Snape scolds as you pull yourself to your feet and begin walking towards McGonagall's office, dreading having to look your head of house in the eye. You’d felt sick with guilt when you’d had to explain being late to one of her lessons, the thought of having to explain why you were turning up with a bruised face after she’d already had to berate George and Harry made you want to hurl. 

You were surprised to see that her office was empty except for professor Umbridge when McGonagall opened the door with a slightly surprised expression. 

“Miss L/n, what on earth are you doing here?” she asked, 

“Erh, professor Snape sent me,” you said sheepishly, her eyes landed on your cheekbone and her expression stiffened,

“Come in.” Umbridge's saccharine voice says behind her, “Mr Weasley and Mr Potter have just left, but I’m sure that we can fit in another detention, if you’ll leave us professor McGonagall, I’ll take it from here.”

***

 “-So I’ll see you next Monday for your next of many detentions, miss L/n, other than that you’re free to go back to your common room now.” Umbridge says finally, taking the blood quill from you with the same revolting smile she always wears. You don’t know what to say so you resort to nodding and leaving without a word, carefully closing the door behind you and turning to go. You start when you’re met with the face of George, who’s sitting on the windowsill across the hallway, his lip swollen and bruised.

“George!” you say, holding a hand to your chest, “you scared the living hell out of me!” you exclaim as he stands up and crosses the hallway, 

“Sorry, Y/n,” he says with a grin before his eyes travel to your cheek and soon after you feel his cold fingers touching your bruise gingerly while he eyes you with furrowed brows, 

“You’re hurt,” he says in hushed tone so unlike his usual self that it makes your stomach churn, hating to see him this worried, 

“you should see the other girls,” you attempt to joke earning a chuckle from George, “besides I can hardly feel it with my hand,” you lift up your hand, showing off the bright red letters etched into it, 

I will not resort to violence.

“so it’s true then,” he says, his hand still on your cheek, his thumb gently brushing over the bruise, his eyes staring into your own, “that you beat up those Slytherins?” Now it’s you who’s chuckling, “You could say that, yeah,” you answer, “they deserved it though, they were talking about you, your family” suddenly, you find it hard to look George in the eye, you stare at your feet, the edges of your vision blurring with tears, you feel his hand tilt your head up by your chin, 

“I- I don’t know what happened, George, I just heard them say those awful things about you and I just couldn’t take it, I just-” 

His lips cut you off from your ramblings, his hands finding their way down to your waist, holding you gently as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss just a little, stepping closer to you, your own hands travel up to his neck, his hair, your fingers get lost in tufts of ginger hair. You can feel the bruise on his lip, and it implores you to kiss him as softly as possible, though you want nothing more than to continue deepening it, to make it last longer. He breaks away, resting his forehead on yours,

“Thank you, Y/n,” he breathes with a smile, “for standing up for me.” he leans in and pecks you on the lips, 

“though, in fairness, I’d prefer if you refrain from violence from now on, I’d hate to see you get hurt.” he says, taking you by the hand and beginning to walk, you gently nudge him, 

“And that’s coming from you,” you smirk, 

“touché.”