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[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Simon was seething. Never had he been so viscerally angry, his temper dangerously towing the tight rope that was his self control. You’d almost been killed. You’d been shot, and you were damn lucky that it hadn’t been fatal.

He found you on the roof later that night, no longer hiding the pain the bullet wound in your side had caused once you thought you were alone. It took all of two seconds of him seeing you hurting like that for him to snap.

“The fuck were you thinking out there, Y/N?!” His voice echoed in the night air, causing you to flinch slightly. “Do please tell me you’ve got a reasonable explanation for what happened.”

“Simon, please just calm down for a minute.” Your voice was soft, too soft, and it only fueled his anger more.

“Calm down? You want me to calm down?” Simon bellowed, his self control rapidly slipping out of his grasp. “You almost fuckin’ died, Y/N!”

Simon hated the way you flinched, hated the way you backed up ever so slightly away from him, but he couldn’t control himself. He had almost lost you.

“I know that, Simon. I know. But I don’t regret what went down.” You forced your voice steady, your eyes not leaving his as you attempted to stand your ground. “I-.”

“You don’t regret almost getting shot? Y/N, you’re not on this team to make reckless decisions. If I knew you’d be making choices like that, I’d have had Price kick you off the team months ago! Almost dying, for what? For what?!” Simon moved closer to you, the red in his vision nearly blinding, and this time you didn’t back away.

“For you, asshole!” You screamed, your hands reaching for Simon’s chest, pushing him as hard as you possibly could. Simon barely moved an inch before you screamed again. “For you! If I hadn’t taken that bullet, you would’ve died!”

Simon’s world stopped in that moment, the red vanishing from his vision, his heart coming to a slow halt in his chest as he absorbed your words. For him?

“He was aiming at you, Simon. If I hadn’t stepped in the way, we would’ve lost you. And I.” You trailed off, unable to look at the hulking man in front of you. “I don’t know, I didn’t hesitate, it was as if it was just instinct for me.”

Simon could hear his heartbeat in his ears, the soft thud thud thud the only thing keeping him grounded. You’d saved him. You’d risked your life to save him.

You, the sweet soldier who always put others first. You, the one who’d always patched him up late at night, laughing at his shitty jokes. You, the one who understood him like nobody else. You, the one person in this godforsaken world that got him to lower the never ending walls within him. You, the one he’d unknowingly loved for years. Saved him.

“I know it was stupid, and if you want to kick me off of the team for it, fine. But I’d do it again.” You threw your hands up in the air, and Simon didn’t miss the way you winced from the pain in your side. “I don’t regret it.”

Simon only stared at you, his eyes betraying none of the inner turmoil that he was currently experiencing.

“I couldn’t lose you, Simon.” Your voice was barely audible as you spoke, your eyes falling on the lower half of his mask. “Not now, not ever. I don’t know what I would’ve done if that bullet hit you.”

Simon’s eyes found yours as he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue felt heavy, incapable of moving. For the first time in his life, he truly didn’t know what to say.

He watched as you chewed your bottom lip, your eyes leaving his yet again as you looked down at your feet. God he wishes he could say something, anything, but as always words failed him around you.

“I’ve got to go report in to Price.” You said, slowly turning away from him to face the door. “I won’t apologize for what I did, but I’m sorry for causing you to doubt my ability to support the team. Have a good night, lieutenant.”

Watching you turn away from him had finally stirred something within him, his heart rapidly beating in his chest. He had to make this right.

“Y/N.” Simon found his voice as you reached the roof’s door, causing you to turn to face him. “Wait.”

Your heart practically stopped beating upon finding Simon’s mask discarded, his face now fully bare for you to see. You weren’t sure what you had expected, once you’d finally seen him, but it certainly wasn’t this.

He was simply beautiful. Every scar, every small freckle, dimple, wrinkle had formed his face impeccably well, and you couldn’t help but stare at him as your mind ran completely blank.

You’d fallen for the masked man long ago, his dry humor, loyalty and bravery were something that’d you’d found yourself drawn to. You’d meant what you said to him about not regretting taking a bullet for him. You loved him. And truthfully couldn’t fathom a life without him.

“Now you see me.” Simon breathed, his eyes softening as he watched you take in every inch of his face. He should’ve felt vulnerable, shy even. But he didn’t. Not with you. He wanted you to see him, every imperfect inch of him.

He bared himself to you, let his face and eyes tell you everything he didn’t know how to express with words.

“I’ve always seen you, Simon Riley.” You spoke, your voice barely above a whisper as your hand softly cupped his cheek. “Always.”

And that was all it took for Simon to know he loved you.

[comatosebunny09]

cotton candy clouds | sylus

summary: you guilt-trip sylus into taking you to the carnival. you get caught up in more than just the festivities, hidden feelings finally coming to light. genres: romance, fluff, minor angst warnings: kissing, unrequited (not really) feelings, tender touches, pet names, incredibly self indulgent, profanity, cheesy af, fuck fate notes: limerence au, but a little less pain. now playing: siren guitar - carlos carty

Well, it seemed like a good idea. 

Until it wasn’t. 

You see, the boardwalk wasn’t too far of a walk from your bungalow. You saw the Ferris Wheel gleaming in the near distance from the passenger window of Sylus’ rental. Caught sight of it on the ride back after spending the morning with him.

The carnival beckoned to you. Taking you was the least Sylus could do after torturing you with restricting dresses and uncomfortable heels all weekend. And he could sweeten the deal by winning you a plushie and stuffing you full of cotton candy. 

Sylus relented with a chuckle, pulling the car into the carport. Good on you for suggesting you travel on foot to the boardwalk after you dropped your bags at the house. He looked like he wanted to contest you, gaze turned skyward like he knew something was amiss. Instead, he shrugged and settled his dark shades onto his face, following your lead. 

The carnival was lively. 

It smelled of funnel cake, smoked turkey legs, and lubed machinery. People milled about, their glee staining the stratosphere. Carnies coerced you into trying for prizes. You had an armful of colorful plushies with a grin to match by mid-afternoon, courtesy of your boss and his impeccable aim. 

If you hadn't known any better, you swore you were on a date. But you knew that could never be, given the state of your relationship and your position in Sylus’ life. 

You were halfway through a candied apple when Mother Nature decided, ah, that’s enough fun. 

The sky, once a bright cyan with a golden sun pinned to its center, gave way to ominous, dark gray clouds. Thunder followed, and eventually, the nimbus clouds opened up to pelt the boardwalk below with its glacial downpour.

You scattered along with the other carnival goers, Sylus in tow, the spoils of your endeavor forgotten. On the race back to the bungalow, he grabbed your hand, and you laughed like two carefree adolescents as he tugged you across the sand to your temporary lodging. 

You were breathless when you reached the porch, shoving into the warm sanctity of the entryway with a “Hurry, hurry!”

It was quiet inside. 

The light pouring in through the sliding doors and windows illuminated the stilled space. Your teeth chattered as Sylus helped divest you of your clothes in the living room. Such a gentleman, his gaze never dipping past your collarbones as he tore his sweater from his shoulders. He left you briefly, taking his warmth with him to light a fire beneath the mantle. 

Clad only in your undergarments, you pawed at him, giggling amid your shivering when he came back to drape you in an oversized throw. 

He led you to the high-pile rug in front of the fire. Sat down cross-legged, drawing you into his lap. He shrouded the pair of you in the throw blanket, his arms encasing your middle, hands smoothing over your arms to ward off the cold.

For a while, you sat like that, watching the fire kindle. Chuckling, panting, and existing in the moment until your shared quivering abated, and only the rhythm of your even breaths, the crackling fire logs, and distant waves crashing against the shore colored the air. 

Even now, you sit like this, still housed in Sylus’ lap and arms, his chin notched in the hollow of your shoulder. He absently rocks your body side to side, his occasional pleased hum vibrating your spine.

You’re no longer a sopping, chattering mess. You’re much warmer than before, Sylus’ proximity causing your cheeks to prickle with heat. You don’t want to disrupt the mood that’s descended onto your shoulders. Ignore the complicated thoughts and feelings that burble to the surface, threatening to bare themselves in the face of your peace. 

He feels too good. Smells even better, the scent of his cologne easing the tension from your shoulders. And a glance at him in your periphery reveals his lashes fluttering, eyes closed in what you assume is contentedness. You study him for a beat or two, ingesting the peachy tone stippling his cheek and the pretty curl of his lips. He looks so boyish and unguarded this way, his hair falling into his face, and you find yourself wanting to see this side of him more often.

“You look like you want to say something,” he teases through a smile, thumb cruising over the skin of your belly.

You shake your head no, eyes wide like you’ve been caught rifling through the cookie jar. 

His hold on you stiffens the slightest. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” He moves to pull away, but you quickly ensnare his wrists with your hands, quietly imploring him to stay. He acquiesces, holding to you a little tighter. Nuzzles a little more affectionately, inhaling deep the warm aroma of your skin.

“What’s on your mind,” he queries on an exhale, tenderness lancing through his question. He almost sounds like he’s afraid to scare you off. Afraid to let you go, swept up in the spell of the moment and the sensation of your body against his.

Your lips pull into a rigid, thoughtful line. Your pulse thrums in your ears, and you rub cautious thumbs over the veins pulsing in Sylus’ hands as you study the geometric patterns of the rug. Sighing, you figure it’s best to broach the subject now rather than let it fester.

“Is this alright?” you timidly ask. Uncharacteristic of you, but in light of everything that’s transpired since he whisked you away on this impromptu vacation, you’ve become even more confused and unsure of yourself.

Sylus shifts, drawing back until you feel his eyes on the side of your face. In the corner of your vision, he cants his head quizzically, lips parting.

“What do you mean?”

The angle is awkward, your neck straining. But you turn as best you can to look at him, and the puzzled pinch of his brows makes your chest tighten. 

“I mean, us being this…close. Is it really okay?” Your question hangs in the air like the pop and fizz of the fire. You watch his Adam’s Apple bob whilst he swallows, and he scrutinizes you, the cogs in his mind slowly turning. 

“Is this a problem? Because if I’m making you uncomfortable, sweetheart—”

“Sylus, that’s…that’s not what I mean.”

He watches your lips tremble. Expression still reads like he has no idea what you’re on about. He strokes up your arm, encouraging you to elaborate. With another weighted sigh pushing through your nostrils, you relent.

“I mean, like…what the hell are we doing here?” Try as you like to mask your frustration, bits and pieces of it leak into your words. You clench your fists in your lap, brows furrowing as your eyes burn and glaze over with the threat of tears. “Why did you bring me here? The last few days have been so… wonderful and confusing, and I—I just wanna know where I stand with you.”

The past weekend with your boss has played out like a dream. 

It began when Sylus snatched you away from the arctic darkness of the N109 Zone in favor of something brighter, more low-key. Wanted you to take a load off after employing you for so long. To show his appreciation for you laying your life on the line for him each day.

He bought you gifts at every turn. Said things that thoroughly derailed your perception of him. Touched you in ways that, although weren’t sexual in nature, lit a fire within you and gave you an inkling of hope. Hope that he cared for you as much as you pined for him despite his history with the Hunter. 

You knew it wasn’t right to covet him like that. But you couldn’t help yourself, and how he’d been behaving since you arrived on the island only worsened matters. He treated you like a lover more than his subordinate, and you needed—no, deserved—an explanation for the sudden shift in tone. 

“I thought it was obvious,” he half-chuckles, shaking his head whilst pinching the bridge of his nose. 

As if you’re the problem here.

You make a sound. Maneuver yourself in his lap to get a better look at him, fixing him with a perturbed look. Explain, demands the quirk of your brows. 

“Well, it’s been brought to my attention that maybe I haven’t been completely clear with my intentions.” 

Sylus shifts you around in his lap until you’re straddling him, your legs framing his hips, wrists instinctively crossing behind his neck. He drapes his arms about your waist, a wide, possessive hand at the small of your back to hold you in place. He peers at you with all the softness of the world, and from your vantage point, you make out the amber flecks nestled between the crimson wash of his irises.

He tilts his head, quietly studying you. Turning over the right words in his mind. “I care about you.” His voice is low and abrasive, but the crackle of it sparks in your chest like steel dragged across a flint stone. 

Your breath hitches, and you watch him with widened eyes and parted lips.

“I care about you. Maybe more than I should. Perhaps more than I deserve to, but I do. And you mean more to me than mere words can illustrate.”

Great. Now you feel absolutely horrible amid the butterflies piling in your stomach. “Sylus—”

He chuckles sardonically, glancing off to the side. “I thought that by bringing you here, I could make it inherently clear how I feel about you. No distractions. No outside forces. Nothing standing between us.”

Unconsciously, you gather his cheeks into your hands. Lure his gaze back to yours, and the look in his eyes makes your stomach somersault. You’ve never seen him so wounded. Like he fears your rejection, yet he’s determined to set the record straight.

Sylus’ voice steeps a few octaves when he closes in, his warm breath fanning over your lashes. You feel dizzy like you would collapse if not for his virile arms keeping you fastened to him. 

“Fate be damned,” he whispers. Molds his hand to the nape of your neck, fingers easing up into the delicate hair that resides there, and you shiver when his gaze slacks to your lips. “You were an oversight—a pleasant oversight. A detour in my plans that I didn’t anticipate. A detour I don’t regret taking.”

His lips graze yours, and you’re panting as pleasant tingles ricochet up your spine.

“You occupy all of my thoughts.” Sigh. “You ruin me,” he husks, sealing your chest to his. “I don’t want anyone else but you. And I know your mind has more than likely convinced you otherwise. But I’m here to say that I truly…” He draws back to kiss the tip of your nose. “Honestly…” Brands the corner of your mouth with the languid drag of his lips. “—pine for no one else. You’re the only person I want in this lifetime.”

“Sylus,” you halfway sob in the slither of space between your mouths, every nerve in your body trained to the feel of him.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

You swallow thickly, your mouth dry, your mind fogging over. “You gonna keep waxing poetic, or are you gonna kiss me?”

He snorts out a laugh at your impatience, cupping your jaw with a tender, sweltering hand. “There is nothing I would like more,” he breathes, luring you closer for a taste of your lips. 

[bleach-your-panties]

sexy prompts for inumaki! all characters aged 18+

"T-Toge...we shouldn't do this here...they could easily see us, even from down there!"

The white-haired male only breathed a warm sigh into the crook of your neck as he helped you balance your leg up on the windowsill.

While Maki, Yuta, and Panda trained in the courtyard down below, Toge was sliding his long cock between your creamy, wet folds.

Your left hand haphazardly gripped onto the material of his pants while your right arm laid wrapped around his neck.

His nose bumped against your cheek, his silent way of asking you if you wanted him to continue.

"Yes, but, please Toge, we need to be careful. Okay?"

Those last words were lost on his ears as he shifted and gripped you underneath your armpits.

He expertly aimed his cock up at your hole and allowed you to sink yourself onto it just as you'd done so many times before.

Your face swarmed with heat as Toge bounced you on him hurriedly - there was no telling who might come around the corner or down the hallway and see the two of you in this position, but that was the entire thrill of public sex, wasn't it?

Not to mention your friends who might idly decide to glance upwards and get an eyeful of Toge pounding you in front of the open window.

But Toge, the ever-observant boyfriend noticed your apprehension about being caught, so what did he do?

He folded you at the waist, never slipping out of you as he continued his relentless thrusts.

"T-Toge! Slow down!" Your hands gripped his legs now while your head hung upside down, giving you a perfect view of his balls slamming against your ass.

"Huh, did you guys hear something? It sounded like it came from the second floor." Panda pointed a clawed finger up towards the window, where Inumaki gave him a close-eyed smile and a thumbs up.

"Oh, never mind, it's just Inumaki."

Maki pushed the furry away and adjusted her glasses to gaze up at the window as well.

"Inumaki?! What are you doing up there? Your ass should be down here training with the rest of us! And where's Y/N?!"

She impatiently stalked off with her staff thrown over her shoulder, mumbling something about slackers. Yuta brushed a hand through his dark hair sighed, and followed after the green-haired woman with Panda in tow.

"I'm gonna cum, Toge..I...my head...getting dizzy..."

Next, you were pulled up and your back slammed up against the wall beside the window. Your shaky legs came up to wrap around your boyfriend's waist.

Toge continued to bounce you on him in this new position, relishing in the sound of your moans and the way your chest bounced in rhythm with his thrusts.

Your nails dug into his shoulders while your head lolled to one side. He wanted to laugh at you, but instead let out a loud grunt. His hips stuttered and he carefully lowered both of your bodies to the floor, dick pulsing and shooting his cum up against your walls that gripped him for dear life.

"Toge...you're a monster..." You huffed at him once you came down from your orgasm and he did laugh this time while holding up the "I love you" hand signal.

"I love you, too, you bitch."

----

sexy prompt list:

#21 - Fucking with the window wide open

💗💗🍡°tagging: @darkstarlight82 @eternalalmondd

[rinnsverse]

SAY ON SKIBIDI — damian w.

After an unfortunate incident involving a ball and your kneecap, you get sent to the nurses office with Damian in tow. In the isolation of the office, Damian tells you something that makes your mind short-circuit, and proceed to make him say that he means it.

contains: bsf!damian x reader, fluff, brainrot, swearing, humor, they're in middle school — both 14 years old, mention/description of injury, reader doesn't know damian is robin, short fic

a/n: this is the most brainrot thing i've ever written but i found this idea hilarious so i had to write it out

P.E. IS A stupid elective to have is what you've concluded. Sure, you've always thought that but you were normally able to sit out of most of the activities since all they cared about was the no phones rule and sometimes cared about what shoes you wore. You were content with that though.

You could spend the whole hour yapping Damian's ear off and he never objected to it all throughout the countless amount of times you did so. That was something you were thankful for since he was surprisingly a fantastic listener despite himself also being a yapper.

However, the one time a game has mandatory participation in P.E. is the one time you get hurt. What was the game? Dodgeball, because of course it had to be dodgeball along with the kids with the super good aim for some reason all being on the other team. Minus Damian, mainly because you begged him to stay.

Was it a good call though? Not sure since he'd end up by your side regardless of what team he was on, in the nurses office.

"What was the name of the boy who hit you?" the nurse asked, walking through the door, ice pack in hand.

"Dunno," you simply responded, gently taking the ice pack from her. Nodding your head in thanks, you wince a little at the contact with your ugly purple bruise and the sheer coldness of the ice pack.

"You both can stay here for the rest of the period which will end in," she cranes her head to look at the clock behind her, "roughly fifteen minutes or so."

"Thanks."

"Thank you," Damian nods.

The nurse smiles in response. "It's not a problem," she says before she exits through the door and closes it halfway.

Once he could no longer hear the soft sound of her shoes stepping on the cold tile floor, Damian lets out a sigh. "That dude really needs to watch how hard he's throwing things."

"I know," you scoff, gently pressing down on your bruise with the ice pack, "But it's whatever I guess, he didn't intend on seriously hurting me anyways. I don't think so at least."

He merely tsk's at your statement. "How can you be so nonchalant when someone hurts you? Intentionally or not, how can you act so normal about it?"

You tilt your head in confusion at his words, "What do you mean by that?"

He just looks at you for a moment before shaking his head. "Never mind, I just don't want to see you hurt. Physically or emotionally."

"Is... Is this your way of saying you care about me?"

"Do you really need me to say it out loud for you?" Damian sighed.

"Yes," you eagerly nodded, a smug smile on your face as Damian ran a hand through his black strands; head hanging low as he slouched against the wall he was leaning on.

"I care about you," he lifted his head to look you in your eyes.

Your smile soon turned into a wide-toothed grin at his words when a brilliant idea popped into your head. "Say on skibidi."

"Excuse me?"

"Say on skibidi. Say on skibidi that you care about me," you repeated.

"The brainrot has gotten the better of you, you're going to need more than just that ice pack," he deadpans.

"Wow! That's so mean," you gasp, lifting the ice pack slightly to glance at the bruise which has now turned into an icky yellow color. "C'mon, just say it."

"This is shameful," he says exasperatedly. "On skibidi," he visibly shudders, spitting out the word as if it were profanity, "I care about you." His head was turned away, facing the nurse's bathroom door instead of you with his hands stuffed into his pockets.

"Yipee!" you laugh at his facial expression when he turned his head back towards you, Damian's lips curled into a frown as well as an eyebrow twitching in annoyance. "See? It wasn't that hard to say."

"My pride has taken irreparable damage, I will never recover from this experience," he monotonously said.

"Now you're just being dramatic!" you huff out, "Are you really incapable of being silly?"

He pauses for a second as if in thought, "Maybe."

Truth was, it was a reoccurring thought that passed through his mind multiple times whenever he hung out with you. Being so carefree and open was never a luxury he got to have, even when he moved in with his father he still felt some form of obligation of stoicism in the manor.

"Wow, we really need to find a way to heal your inner child," you mention offhandedly paying more attention to your knee, not noticing the way Damian's eyebrows rose.

"Maybe," he muttered, barely audible enough for you to hear. His inner child, huh? He didn't know if it was still there at this point but your antics made him self-aware of the reality that he's a child soldier, his childhood wasn't the same as his peers and he knew there would always be a disconnect.

Though, maybe he could finally live as a child instead of a soldier around you.

a/n: turned more into a character study at the end there and it was kinda bittersweet but womp womp

[connorsui]

“I trust you…I promise you that I trust you, and nothing will come in the way of that…but you can’t tell me this isn’t ridiculous, right?”

You stand in the middle of your snowy driveway, gazing with a mix of exasperation and amusement at Johnny and your twin sons as they create a battlefield out of the morning’s snowfall-- Instead of the simple snowmen you might have imagined, the boys are busy crafting a fortress, with underground paths, tall mounds as shields, and small stockpiles of snowballs for their so called ... “ammunition.”

You’d pictured the morning so differently: hot chocolate by the fire, maybe a bit of decorating? or Johnny sharing tame, kid-friendly stories from his time in the service—with the casual violence out of the way. But instead, here you are, cup of coffee warming one hand, the other resting on your hip as you watch Johnny instruct the boys in how to "properly" make a shield.

“Ohh, c’mon, lovie,” Johnny calls out, dusting the snow from his gloves with a playful shake of his head, “Let the lads enjoy themselves a bit, eh?” He straightens up, strides over to you, and presses a kiss to your cheek. The cold on his lips contrasts sharply with the warmth of his smile, and you feel yourself smiling back, twirling your coffee idly in the mug.

Johnny steps behind you, wrapping his arms securely around your waist, resting his chin atop your head. “I meant it when I said I wanted to spend every second with the boys,” he murmurs softly. “Been too long without ‘em, you know?”

“Oh, I know you said that,” you chuckle, a warm puff of air slipping into the crisp winter morning. “Don’t think I forgot so quickly... But taking on our boys in an early morning little war wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when you promised ‘quality time,’ Johnny.”

He laughs, his deep chuckle vibrating against you. But before he can reply, one of the twins rushes over, his cheeks flushed with excitement, snowflakes clinging to his coat.

“Mum! Mummy! Look! We did it!” He points eagerly to their snow fortress, an impressive structure for something built by two kids and their overly enthusiastic dad.

The other twin, standing guard behind a snowy barricade, grins mischievously before launching a snowball toward his brother. It narrowly misses, skimming past you, and you instinctively step back, laughing as you bump into Johnny’s chest.

“Oi! Careful with yer aim,” Johnny calls out, unable to hide the pride in his voice. He lets you go and grins at the boys. “Ye want to join me inside for a while, love?” he asks, lowering his voice, a playful warmth in his tone. “I’ll make you somethin’ nice, your favorite.”

“Hmmm,” you hum in mock consideration, pretending to think it over. Finally, you give a quick nod, and the two of you make your way back to the kitchen, where you begin preparing a warm breakfast for the boys. The house feels cozy, the warmth from the stove and the sound of laughter just outside filling it with a sense of peace that feels almost too perfect to be real.

As you look out the kitchen window, you see the twins giggling, a flurry of snowballs passing between them. One boy dives behind a mound, trying to evade the other’s shot, only to trip and collapse in a heap of laughter and snow. You watch, smiling to yourself, feeling that rare, unfiltered happiness that fills every corner of your heart.

“What’re ye thinkin’, hmm?” Johnny asks, catching the look on your face as he leans against the counter, his gaze soft.

You blink, as if just waking from a daydream. “What? Nothing… Just happy, is all.”

Johnny raises an eyebrow, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Sure about that?”

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“Oh, nothin’,” he teases, feigning innocence. “Just wonderin’.”

You lean back against the counter, eyes drifting again to the scene outside. “This is everything I could’ve ever wanted with you, Johnny. I remember imagining this life with you back then, maybe one little one in tow… but now, with two boys, and you… it almost feels ...dream-like,... you know?”

He slides closer to you, his hand resting over yours. “No, darlin’. I don’t know,” he says softly, his eyes meeting yours with that familiar, grounded warmth. “Because this here? It’s all real. Me, the house, our boys… us.” He gestures around as if to make his point clear. “This is it. All of it’s real.”

A smile spreads across your face as you meet his gaze, unable to hold back. Leaning up, you place a soft kiss on his lips, savoring the moment, the crisp air still lingering on his skin.

“And ye know what else could be real right about now?” he murmurs, a glint of mischief in his eye.

“Oh, and what would that be?”

“Leaving the kids with yer mum while we take apart that new lovely present you left out for me.”

You gasp, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “Johnny! Don’t tell me you’ve already seen it?”

He smirks, tapping the side of his head. “Oh, don’t think I didn’t spot it, all prettily wrapped with a bow.”

Lowering your voice, you whisper, “That was for later!”

“How much later?” he teases, a mischievous sparkle in his eye that sends your pulse racing.

You glance away, hiding a grin, cheeks warm as you try to suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

Johnny lets out a laugh, his deep voice filling the cozy kitchen. But before you can respond, the boys come bounding in, their noses red from the cold, eyes wide with excitement.

“Mum! Mum! Can you make our favorite breakfast?” they ask in unison, looking up at you with hopeful smiles.

You sigh playfully, shaking off the blush that had crept up your neck, and nod. “Alright, alright. I’ll call you back when it’s ready!”

With twin shouts of “mmkay!” they scamper back outside, their laughter echoing through the yard as they dive back into their snowball war.

Johnny watches you, a familiar, mischievous smile still on his face. “Well?”

You tilt your head, chuckling, “I'll call her.."

A laugh escapes him, and he pulls you close, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. As you continue with breakfast, he stays by your side, keeping an eye on the boys through the window. You realize that this—Johnny beside you, the kids laughing outside, the warmth of your home wrapping around you—is the happiest you’ve ever felt.

[sebsbarnes]

Hi i love your work! I was wondering if u could do a fic where tangerine x reader are running from enemies on a job and they end up making out to try and hide from the enemies because pda makes people uncomfortable? Like the comment black widow makes to steve rogers in the winter soldier before she kisses him?

im backkk! so sorry for the massive delay, i love this request. it may be a little rusty so i apologize now.

pda || tangerine

tangerine x reader

warnings: brief talks of shooting and guns

word count: 1.2k+

masterlist

"you're a fuckin' idiot, tan," you snapped in defeat, looking at the man who appeared clueless about the situation.

he tsked and continued to move deeper into the building, "there's nothing to worry about. alarm gets tripped so what? we got a few minutes before anyone shows up."

with slow footsteps you followed behind him. irate was the only word to describe your mood. you mimicked him behind his head, arms up in the air, your gun flailing around dangerously in your right hand as you muttered in a whiny baby voice, 'we got a few minutes'.

tangerine and stubbornness go hand in hand, you can't have one without the other. his attitude made missions sometimes far easier when there were issues with other individuals or, in this case, far more difficult. instead of waiting an extra five minutes for the incoming call from lemon providing tangerine with the keycode, tangerine took it upon himself to smash the keypad. of course, an orchestra of alarms rang out and bounced off the walls of the building in an almost deafening manner. but rest assured, there was no one in the building...according to tangerine.

"c'mon we need to hurry up," you said, now walking in stride with him, "second-floor unit 204."

it was a file the two of you were after. information was scarce to get. a mission would come through, assigned off to you, and that was the extent of knowledge you had. as far as you and tangerine knew, your boss wanted the list of names encrypted on the file. what you didn't know was that the building was teeming with employees ready to defend the file.

there was a loud boom followed by an eerie silence. immediately you and tangerine halted, his hand coming to hover in front of your body preventing you from moving. tangerine's eyebrows were pulled into a deep furrow attempting to use some sort of instinct to decipher where the noise was coming from. he caught your eye before following your pointed fingers that were angled above and to the left. just as he pivoted his head, a symphony of gunshots rang.

"move!" he demanded, gripping your jacket and shoving you behind a structural pillar.

the whizzing of the bullets sounded as if you were surrounded by a swarm of bees. you were silently cursing at tangerine for his rash decisions earlier. you watched as tangerine shot five men in succession.

"oh but we had time, right?" you barked, aiming your sights on seemingly the last gentleman. with a squeeze of the trigger, the bullet went flying, piercing the man on the side of his neck.

tangerine sprinted from his position, "let's go," he directed, grabbing onto your wrist.

"god-," you panted, "i hate working with you sometimes."

"oh shut up," he huffed as your legs pounded against the waxed tiles, your wrist still bouncing in his grasp.

just as the two of you were about to push open the front doors, a bullet shattered the glass causing the two of you to stumble. daring to peer behind you, you were met with about four men charging forward.

"shit, c'mon," tangerine rushed.

tangerine guided you around the corner of the building, sprinting into a busier part of town. there was no chance of losing the men and although the distance between grew wide, you could still hear the pounding of the footsteps. with you in tow, tangerine darted into a convenience store. through short breaths, you could hear tangerine muttering how there is a back exit. you took the opportunity to shrug off your jacket and toss it down one of the aisles in a measly attempt to disguise yourself. without warning you gripped tangerine's button down and popped the first three buttons open. he sent you a look of disgust.

"can you try disguising yourself?" the annoyance in your tone evident. without a word, tangerine huffed as he discarded his perfectly tailored jacket and vest by shoving it into a man's arms.

you and tangerine decided to cut into a park. it was risky doing so. the park only had one real entrance and exit and there wasn't much to hide behind. tangerine figured it was the best option instead of walking the busy streets and putting innocent lives in danger. so, the two of you darted through the gate but not before one last look at the unwelcomed guests trailing behind. thankfully, there was enough distance that the man leading the pack didn't notice the small detour you two took.

"what the fuck!" you groaned quietly after a few minutes of heaving breaths and pebbles scattering beneath your feet. you noticed one of the men walking slowly through the park's weaving pathways.

tangerine ran a hand through his hair, "we got nowhere to go."

you felt your palms getting sweaty as you tried raking your brain of what to do. tangerine looked just as clueless as you. the park had one entrance and the two of you were trapped in the corner.

"kiss me."

"what?" tangerine asked incredulously.

"pda, it uh-" you stammered, "it makes people uncomfortable."

a nervous chuckle escaped his lips but you couldn't miss the way his tongue poked out between his lips, "i'm not-"

before your mind could process your movements you were shoving tangerine by the shoulders and forcing him to sit down on the park bench. as if it was the most natural action in the world, you placed your knees on either side of his legs and sat on his thighs. leaning down you pressed your lips against his. your hands trailed up the back of his neck and into his now loose curls. you noted how tangerine didn't seem to move at first until it was like he suddenly came to life and his hands gripped at your hips.

tangerine's mind was spinning. he'd never dare to admit but he dreamed of this. the way your lips slotted perfectly into his, the feeling of your heart thumping against his chest, your nails gently gliding against his scalp, the feeling of your weight on him.

the kiss was gentle yet desperate. a kiss so perfect that you only read about it in romance novels. too perfect that you didn't even hear the suited man wielding a gun mutter how disgusting people are these days. his grimacing face going unnoticed as your lips molded to tangerine's. the echo of his footsteps receding faded into the night.

your lungs burned for air but you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. tangerine's cologne clouded your senses with a perfect mixture of cedarwood and green mandarin. his facial hair tickled at your face. you could feel tangerine's thigh flex with the movement of your body. his hands cradled your frame, your shirt slightly bunched in between his fingers. it pained you to pull away but you lost the ability to breathe.

your eyes fluttered in a sense of disbelief but also awe as tangerine's eyes bounced around your face. he noted the way your chest rapidly rose and fell, but for him, his breathing paused. he took in the way your lips were slightly swollen and glistening, the vanilla lip balm you applied earlier now transferred to his lips. your shirt now lopsided on your shoulders from him gripping your sides. though only one lamp lit the bench the two of you were perched on, tangerine could still see the pink flush dancing across your cheeks. gently, he raised his hand and brushed his thumb across your bottom lip, already missing the kiss.

if pda made people uncomfortable, tangerine wanted the whole world to feel unsettled.

[marooningmirrorball]

Splattered Coffee and Spare Blouses

A/n: hello lovelies! this is my first ever fanfic so please be kind to me when you read this 🫣 any sort of feedback will be appreciated🤞also there is no physical description of reader, that picture was just the first cute white blouse that i saw on pinterest. i hope you like it!

content: coworker!rafe x coworker!reader

content warnings: complete ooc rafe, like not even a little bit canon. jealous rafe. desperate reader and rafe. idiots in love fr. coworkers/office au (?)

word count: 1.2k words

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊ ₊˚༺☆༻

Rafe is too busy drinking in the sweet melody of your voice to catch the actual content of your conversation with Matt. Or is it Mark? Mason? It doesn’t matter what his name is, the only relevant thing about the guy is that he delivers the paper to the office, and Rafe knows they’re getting a paper restock when he hears the tee-heeing of your giggle aimed at something supposedly funny that Miles joked about as he stacks the reams of paper on the tall shelves behind your desk.

You don’t actually ‘tee-hee’, it’s more of a soft chortle. Rafe likes to think he knows the difference, he tries to bypass these dreary office hours by studying each laughter.

First he takes in the sound and how much it made his heart clench, then he looks at your expression; happy, shy, nervous, anxious (he’s even found the difference between those two!), angry. Lastly he takes in the context of the laugh.

It’s definitely a titter when your boss is reprimanding your newest co-worker with the frosted tips, it’s a hodgepodge of a shy-nervous giggle when your boss is reprimanding you, and it’s absolutely a guffaw when Rafe delivers a joke he’d been meticulously planning before he presents it to you.

It usually doesn’t matter what type of laugh it is, the soundwaves from it wrap his heart up and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, until Rafe forces himself to leave the room, because it can’t be normal to feel this way about a girl you've only been working with for the last three months.

But this isn’t all those other times, it's that unusual time of the month. What could a man who delivers paper to a pool coverings company possibly say to make you let out that joyous sound? What does a pool company even need paper for? Rafe, running his pointer finger along the rim of his coffee mug, comes up blank when he starts to really think about the former rhetorical question, he’s not too sure he ever wants to interact with Mike that will allow him to find out.

Too late. The kerfuffle Rafe accidently caused due to clumsy hands and an even clumsier brain leaves his (luckily) empty mug toppled, but Rafe’s not so blessed when his fallen over mug lands on his pen, triggering it to leap from his desk and splatter into your (unluckily) full mug.

You spin around in your chair at the commotion of Rafe’s, “Shit!”.

Rafe thinks being shot in the big toe would be less painful than this. It’s a Grade A Disaster. All he can see is the deep brown liquid dispersed in sporadic splats all over your previously white blouse.

“Holy shit, are you alright?”, Marcus is pulling out his handkerchief, of course Paper guy carries a handkerchief, in record time, dabbing away at the marks that have the clear intention to find a permanent home on your work top.

Rafe isn’t given a chance to play hero, before Milo is badgering, “Man, why are you doing trick shots right now? Aren’t you a sales guy?”, Rafe; however, is too mortified to think about a snarky comeback as he instead spews out a stumbled apology.

“Y/N, I-I am so so sorry– tha-that really wasn’t on purpose! I-I can–I will replace your shirt after work, I’m so sorry!”, it all comes out jumbled and untidy. A red-faced Rafe runs a hand down his face in exasperation before he’s suddenly up and grabbing at the fallen dishware, “Let me just-let me go get you some paper tow-”

You put an end to his unnecessary apologies with a gentle touch to his right hand that possesses the culprit. Rafe thinks his heart actually stopped.

The grin you bless him with manages to calm him down, “Rafe, you're okay! Don’t stress about it–really. It’s an old blouse anyway.”

And…what?

Rafe just managed to completely demolish your clothes, yet it’s you who is showing him kindness in this weak moment, “Look, if you’re really bummed out about it and want to reimburse me, I do need to go to the mall after this so…”, you drag out and let him fill in the blanks.

So did the mug actually fall onto Rafe’s head? Did he fall into a state of unconsciousness and wake up in a dream land? This can’t be real.

The scoff and retreat of Marcello’s boots snap him out of his thoughts, this is his life. This is his life and he has been staring at you in disbelief for too many silent seconds because you quickly begin to slip the offer out of his hands, “Uhh–well you don’t really have to join me to shop, I just thought since-”, now you're interrupted by Rafe’s reassurances,

“No! Wait–I mean yes! Erm I don’t actually know what I’m meaning to say”, you think the blush sporting his face has got to be the cutest thing you’ve possibly ever seen as he carries on, “I would love to come with you, please!” Jesus, he thinks, try sounding more desperate, he quickly corrects himself.

“Yeah, yeah, that would be cool if I join along. I-If you don’t mind obviously…” he trails off, unsure and not wanting to impose, despite you literally just inviting him.

The shyness is evident in your voice when you softly say, “No, it would absolutely be fun if you came with”, God, you think, why did I add absolutely in there, he’s gonna think I’m desperate.

“Okay cool.”

“Cool.”

Henry, your coworker with the frosted tips, stands at the corner of Rafe’s desk with his arms crossed, “Can I get some paper or do I need to wait another five minutes until your flirting is done?”

The both of you cower slightly in embarrassment at his teasing, but don’t let it dim the bright smiles adorning your faces. Rafe is sure that there’s nothing in this moment that could, he just scored a hang out with the female coworker that he’s been crushing on for weeks now! Not even the sight of smug Martin could kick him off this high right now.

Your too-old desk chair groans as you stand from it, and suddenly Rafe’s worried that Henry’s comment may have bothered you, “Where are you going?”, his rushed tone causes a giggle to escape you,

“My top is still soaked Rafe”, you gesture to the stained garment with a laugh, “I’m just gonna fetch the spare in my car. What? Do you want to walk with me there too?” Rafe misses the joking lilt of your voice because he’s up and walking towards the reception before you can stop him.

When the two of you return from your car, you with a clean (albeit slightly wrinkled from sitting in your ‘just in case’ bag) blouse on and Rafe with a bashful expression, Henry wiggles his eyebrows at the pair of you, implying something out of nothing. You both ignore it and get back to your work, not without the two of you sneaking glances at each other when you know the other isn’t looking.

Long forgotten are Max’s bad jokes and flirting, Henry’s annoying teasing, and this afternoon’s coffee disaster as you and Rafe walk side by side in the mall, he doesn’t think life can get better than this.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊ ₊˚༺☆༻

[soobnny]

brownies 4 u — lee felix x reader ; there is love in a batch of freshly baked brownies (0.7k words)

happy bday felix!

The sun had come down hours ago when you arrive at Felix’s dorm.

It’s late, a little too late for your liking because you tether between quiet footsteps and gentle actions so as to not shake anyone awake from their slumber.

You politely set your shoes down where everyone else’s are. Their dorm has always been the cleanest between the four. You suppose it might be his roommate, Seungmin’s doing.

“Baby?”

You hear him before you see him.

You would’ve ran to the direction of the sound had the air not been so delicate. Guilt sits horrendously at the bottom of your stomach at the thought that maybe the beeping of the door had woken him up, but in the periphery of your vision, there’s evidence that contrasts your suspicions.

“What are you doing awake?” You suppose you don’t need to ask upon closer look.

Between the commotion in the kitchen and the flowery apron he’s sporting around his neck (the one you’d gifted to him last Christmas), you already know what.

The more appropriate question was why.

“You said you were craving brownies earlier.”

Oh.

He’s so warm, and so kind, and he’s speaking so gently that it matches the way he’s smiling at you.

Your stomach swirls with an emotion entirely different from the guilt that had occupied it earlier. Despite your eyes dimming with tire, there’s no mistaking the fondness that litters your pupils when you look at the boy.

So that’s why.

“Sit down, they’re almost done.” Felix doesn’t leave without a kiss on your forehead, careful not to touch you with his flour-filled hands.

The proximity is enough for you to catch a whiff of his soap and the sweetness of the brownie batter.

You’ve never felt this way before.

And if the boy was being honest, he’d never felt this way before either. He’s never been the type to sacrifice his sleep over a simple craving you’d mentioned in passing.

While he has always been kind, Felix had no trouble drawing the line where friendship and love tow dangerously close to one another. With you, he finds that he doesn’t mind losing the extra hours he could’ve gotten had he not started baking. He doesn’t mind if he’s doing it in the premise of love.

Hyunjin had asked him to describe it once.

Love.

There is nothing potently more romantic than the way your heart feels, he thinks.

Felix will never find the words to answer Hyunjin, but if anyone were to spend a second being as in love with you as he is, they’d know. Sometimes, there’s no need for words. It’s just the way you make his heart beat in a way it has never before.

“You didn’t have to make me this.” Your heart swells when he takes the seat next to yours, two pieces of perfectly cut brownies on a plate.

“I wanted to.”

Your ‘thank you’ comes out whispered, and Felix spends the remainder of the time memorizing your smile the moment you take a bite.

“It’s really good.”

He mirrors your smile. Your cheeks puff up a little bit while you’re chewing, and there’s years of happiness and pain littered through little marks all over your skin. There’s no sight as perfect as the one he’s subjected to right now.

“Is it?” He asks, eyes quiet with comfort.

You hum. It doesn’t take long for you to finish it. You didn’t know before that something as simple as a brownie and the hands and the patience and the person behind it could be the brief peace that you needed amidst a rough week.

“Thank you, Felix.” Sincerity drips from your voice, and it makes Felix warm.

There is nothing more beautiful than genuineness, especially when it’s aimed at you. He’s convinced God had modeled you after kindness, and he’s even more thankful that he’d walked a path in his life that led him straight to you.

“Bed?”

“Hmm..”

“Don’t do this again when you’re tired, okay?” You mumble, pressing a kiss on his lips as your eyes struggle to keep open. But it’s something you have to remind him, so he won’t risk his sleep again. “We can always wait til the morning.”

“Okay.”

(Felix still does. He doesn’t think you understand that his sleep is a small price to pay to see you smile despite your own exhaustion. He’s always been weak at heart when it comes to you.)

[sweetsaladpainterranch]

The Rival (Chapter 2)

(Summary: Alastor sought to possess one of the only does in Pentagram City for the rut season, however, you wanted a mate, not a master. But what happens when a handsome new buck shows up one day and tries to capture your attention away from the Radio Demon. Who will you choose?)

Hey, so here is part two as promised (I rewrote it like 40 times 😅) please continue keep in mind that it's just practice for a beginner's writing class

***

Alastor POV

GOD, DAMN HIM ALL OVER AGAIN! How dare this bastard come into HIS territory and make eyes at HIS adorable doe. And how could Charlie, the naïve ninny, allow this…this interloper into their hotel as a guest? Going as far as to prevent him from watering the front lawn with the other male’s blood (and perhaps impaling his head on the entrance gate) in warning for any other foolish would-be usurper. He felt that the spice garden could use some Canadian reindeer mulch.

 Alastor couldn’t help but feel he was behind the eight ball thanks to his agreement with the Princess to not lay a finger on any who sought the hotel’s services; however, she even placed the rake next to your room. It seemed like she expected you to show him around and ensure he acclimated to the new environment without issue. To be a friend to this new guest. Was there no end to Charlie’s flagrant disrespect?!

You had had to walk him down to breakfast once because he had gotten “lost” in the hallways and ended up “accidentally” darkening your door asking for assistance. However Alastor knew it was intentional on the misguided reindeer’s part. It was as if James thought he could capture your heart within the span of a five-minute walk to the lobby. Nonsense. But, Alastor noticed how you sported a slight blush when you rejoined the others, with the newest guest in tow by the hand, in response to whatever inane attempt at charm he had thrown your way.

If the flannel fiend wished for a duel, Alastor would gladly oblige.

He had made certain that his precious doe’s hotel door frame was properly marked with scoring from his antlers and his shadow insisted on being posted on guard at night in case of any “lost” reindeer. This didn’t seem to bother you, as your instincts most likely told you to let the males fight it out, so he continued his pissing contest. For instance, no matter where you were, so was Alastor. He continuously shirked his hotel duties in favor of gluing himself to you and if he wasn’t (very publicly) rubbing against your neck or hair to leave traces of his heavy musk, and attempting to jump-start your heat with his pheromones, he was feeding you from the same plate as himself or whispering sweet words into your sensitive ears.

Oh yes, he saw with satisfaction how your ears twitched in contact with his warm breath and how you shivered slightly at his honeyed words of love. He also didn’t miss the glare that the Canadian continuously shot towards him, and aimed a shit-eating grin of his own right back, as you once again unconsciously relaxed into Alastor’s side.

***

Oh yes, The Radio Demon was absolutely certain that HIS doe would choose HIM as the superior mating option like she did every season over the trash that begged for a mere glance from her direction. HE was the one who always provided protection for her during this fragile time. HE always saw to her meals and ensured her nutrition as is the responsibility of the courting male. And HE was the one who you harbored romantic feelings for.

…Those same warm feelings that slept within him as well…

Alastor tried to shut the thought down before his mind strangled itself in a black cloud of doubt. To say that he was wholly unfamiliar with genuine romance, even throughout his many decades in Hell, was an understatement.

He huffed heavily through his nose.

Carmilla better have a good reason for dragging him away from his territory at such a time. As he begrudgingly made his way to the overlord meeting, Couldn't look weak during a season now could he? Alastor reflected on the last time he had allowed his heart to open itself for another long ago. It ended in his technological "friend" nearly voiding him to make a quick buck.

 …Never again…

 It certainly didn’t help his mood that the start of the rut season was ever hot on Alastor’s heels, but he could only wait for his pheromones to trigger his doe’s heat so every second away from you felt frustratingly wasted. He wondered if your body was taking longer than usual in response to the multiple suitors.

…What if she’s with him…

He shook his head as if trying to forcefully repel the vision of you accepting the other male’s advances. Laughing at James’s crude sense of humor turning into allowing him to drift ever closer to you and eventually seizing his chance to- no, his doe would never betray him.

...She's not mine...

It felt like a stone had settled in the pit of Alastor’s stomach at the thought of you being moved even emotionally by another. Ok fine! He was not the most romantically inclined during the rest of the year, but it wasn’t like you weren’t well aware of this relationship's transaction.

…What if she throws me away too?...

Alastor’s grip nearly broke his cane in half, but he didn’t notice in his shock at such an intrusive thought. She’d never reject him. He remembered how it felt like the whole of Hell suddenly stopped spinning the moment he found you hunched and bloody from defending yourself after an entire herd of bucks had stalked and cornered you in an alleyway. He normally never went out during a rut (can’t let anyone see his body’s weakness) but, even from the hotel, he had smelled something too alluring to ignore. A doe in heat.

Alastor thought you were magnificent in your demon form; legs bent like an actual cervid, claws sharp as knives, and covered in the blood of those filthy bucks who tried to take you by force. Even now the image continues to take his breath away.  

…I know her heart needs more…what if I …

No, that is not what this agreement is. You used him and he used you. Just like every other lost soul in Hell, you were leveraging your Satan-given circumstance to better your situation under his powerful allowances. Romance was merely a tool at best and a distraction at worst (Alastor tried to convince himself).

…What if her body chooses the other male’s pheromones…

He stopped dead in his tracks, just a short distance from the Carmine compound, as the surrounding windows shattered, and nearby demons fled from the intensity of his sudden static outburst. He felt his antlers grow and his bones shift in the fury that overcame him at the image of you held under the other man. Keening and gasping James’s name in your desperation to find relief from your heat. A loud snarl escaped him. Dammit! He never should have left her!

…What if his name is on her lips right now??!...

 Alastor had never phased through the shadows so fast in his afterlife.

***

Your POV

The kiss ended as quickly as it had begun once you felt yourself suddenly pulled into a suffocating nothingness, you opened your eyes to see that James was being violently shaken around in the air like a ragdoll. Only then did the blood in your ears stop pounding long enough for you to hear the sharp screeching of a ruined record and the overwhelming sensation of staticky pinpricks uncomfortably all over your body. Your instincts kicked in and you immediately scanned the yard for the cause of the disruption though you already knew its source as Alastor’s shadow was winding around your body protectively, but also in a restraining manner.

Your eyes searched for Alastor and found him, standing in between you and the flailing reindeer, to be almost unrecognizable in the most demonic appearance you have ever seen him and it broke your heart. Shit, he must have seen James kiss you and maybe even heard what you two had discussed. His body was completely stretched out and bent at impossible angles as he laughed manically at his rough treatment of James and snarled wildly, “HOW DARE YOU LAY YOUR FILTHY HANDS ON MY MATE!!!!”.

“ALASTOR! STOP IT!”, you cried out in hopes of capturing his attention away from James, but it seemed as though your voice had only made things worse as Alastor flung his prey high into the air with another laugh before turning his attention towards you.

Heavy footsteps rumbled through the air as Alastor stomped towards you menacingly slow like a predator taking his sweet time in devouring its next meal and you pulled at his shadow with all you were worth to free yourself of its confining hold. “Please wait!”, you pleaded with the Radio Demon (this wasn’t Alastor anymore). Surely he was about to kill you just like every other demon who he felt had crossed him and their screams and lifeless eyes danced in your memory, but, until now, you had never felt fear of the same fate. You knew hot tears were pouring down your cheeks and you tried to look as small as possible as the giant deer finally made his way towards you with the most strained smile you had ever seen split his face. It seemed like the green stitches that lined the smile were about to pop and you saw the black void of The Radio Demon’s eyes that were pinpointed by fastmoving golden dials.

You could only continue to sob and whimper out pleas for your life, quickly losing your voice in desperation, as Alastor kneeled down and bent his neck to look into your eyes before growling fiercely in your face. It wasn’t really understandable, but it sounded like the accusation that you could see in his twisted face and your heart sank even further. Of course, he must be feeling betrayed and angry, however, he also looked a bit…hurt? It was only for a moment but you were sure of what you saw and it made you wonder if this was really because he felt mating competition from the other male. You couldn’t ponder this any further, though, because you were suddenly whisked away from the hold of Alastor’s shadow in a vice of muscled arms, a firm chest, and white fur.

The fuck?!

“GIVE HER BACK TO MEEE!!!!”, Alastor roared so loud that your ears began to bleed and tighten even further against your skull.

You were quickly placed onto the safety of the hotel’s nearby back porch and looked up to your new kidnapper, only for your mind to completely blank as you took in James’s transformed body and the eerily powerful aura that radiated from his very soul. He walked in a circling motion towards Alastor as the two sized each other up. James now had two sets of strong, bent deer-like legs that attached to the abdomen of, what you assumed to be, a huge reindeer. His humanoid torso connected to the deer body and his shoulders to his head was adorned with spikes of thick, black antlers that grew more massive and curved as they reached the crown of his hairline. You recognized this form.

Dude was a freaking cervitaur? Wait…are DxD characters actually real??!

You noticed that thin vines lined his antlers with small, colorful flowers growing on them and that with each powerful step he took new plants sprouted from the contact of his hooves with the ground. James’s expression was marred with a threatening look towards Alastor and he began to kick out his back legs into the dirt as he twisted his, now thicc neck, from side to side in a warning display of his impressive but deadly rack.

The Radio Demon didn’t back down, however, returning the gesture as he coiled his body before both demons sprinted directly at each other as two harsh cervid howls rang out through the air like a thunderclap.

***

I really hope that you liked reading this! I enjoyed focusing on Alastor's side of things and James's demon transformation that is actually inspired by a DxD character. The cervidtaur, though James's powers will differ a bit, I believe that the fight of the next part will show off how awesome of a character design it is. 😊(See the pic below) I think I spent like a week researching reindeer aggression signs and how to write in a dude's pov 😂

Taglist: I hope I did this right!

@Xalygatorx , @songbirdpond , @bitter-rabittt, @sakuraluna2468, @cinnamon-galaxies, @speedycoffeedelight, @diffidentphantom, @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this, @eris-norwega, @anngray1369, @ladyadrasteia666, @wends, @prime-in-time-and-space, @supeersimpeer, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @type-ink, @fantasyhopperhea, @martinys-world, @apad-ravya, @galaxywolf3, @thoughfullovercreator, @Boogiemansbitch, @helluva-simper, @alastorsgirl48, @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog, @need-a-life-or-grass, @michi-keinz, @milkissesx, @ari42, @valerie-is-in-the-cupboard, @lil-glum, @amariskygal, @strawberryoverlord1893, @cherry-cola-100, @noellebellq, @lettuce-frog16, @junieshohoho, @phoephan-123, @dreamraven13

[etfrin]

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter three | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 NSFW | minor character death, Coriolanus Snow is his own warning

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Coryo finds out the consequences of his actions and finds one of his friends dead

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 third chapter is here!! Do remember to give feedback, thank you!!

beta read:: @nowitsmissing <33

series masterlist | navigation | previous chapter

According to Coryo, Dean Highbottom deserves to be punched. Coriolanus truly wishes he could punch that man's face and break his teeth in the process.

As soon as he entered the classroom, with you in tow. Highbottom doesn't waste a second to praise your insight into welcoming the tributes at the zoo and how you acted in front of the cameras. Creating the very spectacle they had been aiming for. Snow was fuming because he was sure it was because of his songbird, not his soulmate that the views had gotten up.

But, he doesn't think Mr. High As A Kite cares. Coriolanus almost thought he wouldn't even get any attention, neither positive nor negative. He was willing to accept that outcome considering the fact he perhaps broke several rules being inside the cage along with the tributes.

He was wrong.

‘Three demerits and you will be expelled.’

And he officially has his first demerit, on his perfect darn record. He opens his mouth to speak against it-

“Snow falls down on the cage.

It falls down on the cage

But it landed…” Dr. Gauls’ voice echoes around the classroom as she walks down the stairs to Coriolanus level.

“On stage,” he replied, his face nonchalant but his hands fisted on his lap, hidden from view. He had an urge to kick at the table, his mind reeling over what if Dean Highbottom removed him from the games. Would that mean he will be disqualified from the Plinth Prize?

He can't have that. He can't.

Before his mind spirals into a panic attack, dr. Gaul steals his attention with her words.

“You're good at Games,” she said, “Perhaps one day you'll be a game maker like me.” Coriolanus Snow couldn't possibly think of a future in which he's a gamemaker, he never thought of it as a real career. Nothing of his interests nor challenging enough for him. Of course, he doesn't say his thoughts out loud.

He doesn't reply at all, he doesn't have to because Dr. Gaul asks him a question. What are the Hunger Games for? There's no true answer to that. Something so cruel, something so horrible. There's no way to justify that with the truth. Lies perhaps, lies he was taught in the textbooks.

“They’re to punish the districts for their uprising,” he said, only to be replied with “Dull, dull, dull,” by Dr. Gaul.

“Why the games?” She asked again. And Coriolanus had no answer. Because there were plenty of ways to punish the districts. Starvation. Bombing. Public execution.

Why the games?

Coriolanus Snow had no answer and Sejanus Plinth took over instead. As usual, he spewed about the wrongness of the games. The words that will go one ear in and another ear out. Dean Highbottom butts in the discussion as well, talking about how the game had run its course.

Coriolanus can't have that, he can't even fathom the thought of the games gone and in return losing his chance of winning. Coriolanus stands up, gaining the attention of his peers and authoritative figures alike with a daring but simple sentence.

“Dean Highbottom is wrong. My classmates too,” he said, his voice filled with the confidence he didn't feel.

His fingers twitch, feeling the urge to touch the burned soulmate mark on his wrist as a way to calm his soul down. He did no such thing, burying the urge deep in his mind as he began to explain his reasoning.

“People need someone to root for and to root against. . .” He continues, “And if we bend a few Capitol laws, we can even get people to place bets.”

He swallowed, trying to ignore the fact that his palms had begun to sweat as he waited for a reply. After a bit, dr. Volumnia Gaul grinned. Her smile made his bones chill.

“Very well, Coriolanus Snow,” she said, her tone calm yet underneath laid excitement. “I’d like you to write a proposal of these thoughts, Mr. Snow.”

Before Coriolanus could agree to the opportunity, you jump in. You stand up, beside Coryo. Your soft voice rang in his ear and he subconsciously closed his eyes to savor your voice no matter what it said. For a moment he didn't even seem to hear what you were saying, he quickly opened his eyes, looking down on the wooden floor instead. His pale cheeks burning, praying that no one saw that.

He finally hears what you say.

“Let's not limit the Games to the Capitol. Let's unite the whole of Panem with it,” you said, your voice filled with conviction. “I am sure Dr. Gaul if you give me the chance to write a proposal too, you won't be less than impressed.”

“Very well, miss,” she said, cordially, “I will be looking forward to seeing what the star mentors have to say.”

“Do not disappoint,” Dr. Volumnia Gaul grins before taking herself out of the classroom.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

After a quick lunch (not, he decided to sneak food for Lucy Gray) and a plan to meet up with you in the library at night. He sets out in the Zoo with Sejanus Plinth on his toe. The rich boy carrying a whole bag of food, something Coriolanus could only dream of. While Coriolanus had some sloppy sandwich and cold cookies wrapped in a napkin.

Shamed filled his veins about the fact that in his current abilities, he could bring stolen food for his tribute. He takes solace in the fact Sejanus’ tribute refused the bacon sandwich offered to him. A satisfaction in his mind to see Sejanus being rejected by his tribute while Lucy Gray was cooperative as before.

She takes the food, giving some of it to the district twelve boy. Coriolanus frowned as he saw her share the food he bought her. He leaned into the cage to whisper, “Are you going to share everything I give you?”

Lucy Gray replied, not skipping a beat, “You think I ought to build up my strength so I can strangle him in the arena?”

Coriolanus wishes to snap at her and say yes but he knew he had to show kindness to the songbird for her to do his bidding. He takes a deep breath to calm himself down, as Lucy Gray's eyes divert to his classmate, Arachne, his classmate who was busy amusing herself with her district ten tribute.

“Hunger is a weapon in the districts,” Lucy Gray comments, “Seems like your friend here knows it.”

Coryo barely suppressed a snort as he replied, “She's not a friend. She's poison with perfect teeth.” He smiles along with Lucy Gray. He leans down to Lucy Gray's level, his fingers gripping the bars between them. He whispered, “I may have the chance to help you. Make suggestions. I might even get the chance to send you gifts in the arena. Food and water.”

Lucy Gray replied, her voice hardening with the fact that she knew there was a catch, “What's the catch?”

“You might need to sing.”

“I don't sing when I am told. I sing when I have something to say.”

Coriolanus furrows his eyebrows as he hears her response. She would rather die in the arena than create a spectacle of herself. Stupid in his opinion, to value the integrity of art over their life. He opens his mouth to convince her otherwise but then an incident happens that leaves him shaken to his core.

The district ten girl, the tribute Arachne was playing with snatched the water bottle from his peer, smashes it against the cage… and in a blink of an eye, Arachne had her throat slit.

Horror fills Coriolanus as he rushes to her side. His hands over her wound, putting pressure to stop the flow of never-ending crimson blood. He sees her eyes losing life, he almost didn't hear the gunshots killing the tribute who caused this. He cried out for help, only to be ignored. He was grabbed by the shoulder by a peacekeeper. He was dragged away, as Arachne Crane bled out in front of him.

She was dead.

The people from the district were truly animals is his last thought, as he blinks away the tears and shock and goes to his home.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

In the comfort of his ruined home, he had taken a shower and had dinner with his family. He listens to the warnings his grandma’am spewed and hears Tigris voice her opinion against it. He doesn't say a word in between, his fingers tracing the scar over and over again, it was the action that managed to keep him sane for the moment.

After the dinner, he begins to change his outfit. He wears a black shirt, something from his father's closet, and too-tight grey pants. He looks at his hands and imagines Arachne on them. He takes a sharp breath and watches the red fade away from his mind. He tugs at his shirt sleeve and the burned tissue comes into view.

He does so hoping that you're waiting for him in the library. Lucy Gray was a disappointment, Sejanus too. Arachne death is a disappointment too. You were the only one he could rely on not to do the same.

He pressed his lips to the scar and for a mere flash of the moment imagines kissing you instead. For a moment, he forgets you're District, for a moment you're just his and he indulges himself in the fantasy of having your soft lips against his.

Tigris breaks him from his daydream by asking, “Are you sure that she will be waiting, Coryo?”

He looks back at Tigris, his lips pulled in a smirk, his thoughts free of mourning. He covers the scar and replies,

“She was never one to disappoint.”

Next Chapter

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[aimtowing]

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[tacticaldiary]

I love your fics so much 😍😍😍 could you please write a ghost x wife reader where he has a nightmare about losing them

Solace For The Rough Nights

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"I killed you." It's a harsh whisper, almost involuntary, as if his body couldn't bear to keep the poisonous thought in a second longer. "Shot you straight through the head. I didn't-"

"I'm alive. Here. With you. It was just a nightmare, love."

Masterlist

Ghost was running.

Footsteps crunching on dried leaves, he weaves through the trees, shaking off the sounds of harshly barked orders, as crisp and as hold as the cold air around him.

The trees around him are densely packed together, a mixing pot of leaves, roots, and coarsely misplaced footsteps.

He can't remember how he got here, or what op he was on and it sends his normally razor-focused mind into a slight frenzy.

Ghost is a man of action. A plan and a way to execute it was all he needed to bring back a victory in tow, but right now he has neither of those things, hasn't even a bare recollection of ever having those things in the first place.

What was a Ghost without a purpose to haunt?

He stumbles.

It's already an odd situation. Ghost doesn't stumble or hesitate. He's a well-oiled machine, self-sufficient and cut-throat. Missteps are simply not viable with him, especially not something as simple as tripping.

Catching himself on his arm, he swings around, gun already aimed towards the ground, sees a vest-clad figure sprawled over the ground under him.

He fires without thinking. A bullet straight to the head, brain matter splattering the trees and forest, the expanse of his arms. The impact of the bullet jolts the body onto its back and-

Every part of him freezes in pure, undiluted horror.

Because his wife stares up at the sky, eyes unseeing, eerily still. Her hair bloodstained, splayed out onto the ground caught in twigs and branches, face filthy with dirt and crimson that he drew from her.

He's not sure when the trembling starts, only that it begins with his hands and travels up his spine, singeing his soul with a terror that would marr him forever. Circumstances completely forgotten, he drops to his knees in front of her, hands shaking as he calls out her name, pressing his fingers to her neck to find a pulse as if he hadn't just blown her brain out and-and fuck it was still on his arms, his hands, the blood was everywhere and there was no way Ghost had just taken the one thing he wanted to keep in his life-

A strangled sound leaves his lips, not a laugh and not quite a cry. He wants to laugh at the irony.

He's always been so afraid that someone would hurt her at his expense, that someone would take her away, tear her apart from him.

He never thought it'd be him who carried out the deed.

Nothing comes out of his mouth, because nothing can fix this. He gathers her into his arms, shaking silently. He deserves this, deserves to suffer in silence with what he's done.

The release of crying was not one he deserved.

"Fuck, I-...you're okay." His voice breaks, rough and gritty, and desperate. "I didn't-I swear I-..."

Someone's voice sounds behind him but he refuses to look back, letting the screaming in his head, the crescendo of grief consume him. His hands never let up from touching her, pressing her against himself as if his own heartbeat may bring her to life.

How could someone like her face the end when someone as disgustingly tainted and bloodstained as him continued on living?

It wasn't right, but then again, the world never was fair.

He registers he's panicking, knows that he can't quite get a full breath in and that the noise of talking is getting louder but death itself would be the only thing to take him away from her.

"..i..on."

He squeezes his eye shut, rasping out suffocating breaths.

"Simon...Simon!"

His eyes snap open, a strangled gasp tearing out of his throat. It's blindingly dark, and he's...there's hands on him. Steeling himself he sits up hazy and confused, lingering panic making his throat close up.

A click and the room fills with light.

Room. He's in...he's in his room. He's in their room.

"You okay?"

Her voice makes him shiver violently, ignites his frayed nerves. He's almost afraid to look over lest he find her bloody and mangled, because she was, wasn't she? He'd seen it, held her, felt guilt choke him and...

But there weren't any leaves here. No trees, and no blood on his hand (that was the first thing his eyes had snapped down to confirm.)

With a shaky breath, he finally turns his head towards her voice.

Some of the hastily built scaffolding inside him collapses at the sight of her. Alive. Well. Clean.

Worried.

Patient as always, she's waiting for him to get his bearing, not wanting to swarm and overwhelm him.

"Simon?" Her voice is a crack of softness a man like him doesn't deserve. The sheets rustle as she shifts closer. "You were tossing around, mumbling something." She furrows her brows, coming to sit in front of him. "You're all sweaty. Do you feel ill?" The back of her hand presses against his forehead, and the touch snaps something in him.

Breaks apart the harrowing gates of relief, but also smashes the wave of diluted panic he'd been too disorientated to feel.

His hand snaps to her wrist, a gentle and firm hold. Her eyes widen but she doesn't interrupt, lets him press his lips against her pulse point with trembling fingers. "You're all right." He breathes out, half to himself.

"I'm right here." She reassures him immediately. It loosens up his shoulders a little, but he still reaches out to her, pulls her close into a hug so crushingly tight it knocks the breath out of her.

She hugs him tighter, still.

Simon wasn't a hugger, so something must really have shaken him up.

"Hey..." She mumbles against his shoulder.

Simon pulls back, hands travelling up her arms, her shoulders, her neck, to press against her temples. His gaze flickers down to his own arms, then back to her head.

"Talk to me, baby." She says quietly, letting him ground himself. His hands tangle in her loose hair, weaving the strands between his fingers as if he might pick out phantom leaves and twigs. "Why so worked up?"

"I killed you." It's a harsh whisper, almost involuntary, as if his body couldn't bear to keep the poisonous thought in a second longer. "Shot you straight through the head. I didn't-"

"You didn't."

The sharp interrupting startles him enough to still his hands from where they've been mapping out her skin to ensure it was still unmarred.

"You didn't." She repeats. Gently untangling his hand from her hair, she brings it to press against her chest, right over where her heart is. "I'm alive. Here. With you. It was just a nightmare, love." She smiles and Simon feels his heart twist. The way she leans forward to press her lips to his is a kind of gentle he's still getting used to. "You're not getting rid of me any time soon." She whispers against his lips, a warmth that's a welcome reprieve from the shivers that wracked his body moments prior.

They sit there taking in each other's presence until Simon's thoughts slow from a sprint to a run to a walk, until the taste of copper, and the tang of iron fade from his senses.

Until it's just her, just them. In their bed, in their home. Off duty and safe.

When she slides her hands up to his shoulders, pushing him down he goes willingly, lets her straddle him. Never once do his hands leave her, they wrap around her hips to keep her steady.

"Tell me about it?" She asks, hands on his chest. After a moment of thought, Simon shakes his heavy with a long, heavy exhale.

"I'd rather not think about it." He rasps.

"It might help." The gentle shapes she traces on his chest give him something to latch onto. "I don't want you to deal with these nightmares alone." She snakes a hand up to his head, gently tapping his temple. "Don't want you to get stuck here without me. We're a team, right?"

"I suppose we are." He hums. Simon considers changing the subject, letting it go and falling back to sleep, but the need to get these vile thoughts out of him...

So he talks.

For once, he talks.

Simon tells her in halting phrases and clenched fists about what he remembers, how he held the gun, how there was no hesitation pulling the trigger.

His tension is met with hums and soothing circles rubbed onto his skin, keeping him with her even when he unravels the threads of his worst nightmare.

"I remember thinking how I was the one who took your life." He swallows harshly. "How I lost someone else...how it'd have been my fault." She doesn't comment on the fact that his grip on her hips has tightened considerably as he spoke.

"Well you haven't shot me yet, so I think we're safe for now."

Her attempt at a joke is met with a blank glare, but she snickers anyway. "Look Simon, if it'd be anybody I'd have liked it to be you-"

"No."

Her smile falters at the way he pushes up onto his elbows. "No?"

"I wouldn't..." He gathers his thoughts, clenches his jaw briefly. "I'd rather cut my own hands off, love."

"That's a bold claim, but-"

"It's a promise."

The conviction he says it with renders her speechless. His eyes so firm and determined and honest in the meagre light of their nightlamp sparks a warm heat through her, a reminder of how much she loves the man under her, of why she adores him.

He means what he says. It should scare her, someone so willing to go that far, but instead it's a fierce reassurance that her passion is returned. Maybe not in hugs or dopey smiles, but instead in moments like these, with promises that carve their way into their very bones, etching the proof of devotion into permanence.

She tips her head forward until their foreheads are pressed together. "I love you, Simon." She whispers. "So fucking much. I'm not going anywhere, alright. Not without you."

A hand wraps around the back of her neck, tugs her down to crash their lips together, the only affirmation she needs. He pulls her down until they're a tangle of limbs and breaths.

He doesn't need to say it back. Not when his hands burn sparks into her skin, when his arms around her guarantee safety and protection like nobody else can provide.

"You're here." He breathes, like he needs to.

"I'm here." A kiss pressed to the underside of his jaw. "I'm here."

And he finally believes it.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(16/08/2023)

[storiesfromafan]

Antisocial Bookworm

A/N: I haven't written anything in like 3-4 years, but then I ended up down the Mattheo Riddle rabbit hole on TikTok. And here I am lol. Please be kind, as I haven’t written about him before, this is my first go at it.

Part 2 😊

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader

Summary: you didn’t think of yourself of a main character, but rather a background character. Though the Slytherin heart throb thought otherwise.

                                  Antisocial Bookworm

The afternoon was on the sunny side, but there was a cool breeze that had students wearing jumpers and cardigans. You were no different. You were sitting under a tree in the courtyard, legs stretched out in front with ankles crossed, and engrossed in a book. The students around you made noise that you barely took note of, for the book in your hand being far too interesting then the real world. You didn’t really have any friends, nor did you socialize. Books were better company than people.

But hearing the voice of the one and only Mattheo Riddle, you took your gaze from the book before you and looked at Slytherin heart throb that was joking around with his friends. Watching the smile upon his face as he laughed at whatever one of them had said, seeing the brightness in his deep brown eyes. Not to mention how the breeze tousled his curly brown locks. Mattheo was so appealing to the eye that he could easily be the physical form of a character from a book.

You sighed. Like you had a chance with Mattheo. You weren’t in any way like a main girl from a book. You didn't think you were that bad looking, but you weren’t no great beauty. You would say you are average. You chose clothing that was comfortable over fashionable. Your hair was tied up out of your way, though bangs framed your eyes. You were more aimed as a background character then the main female of any book you read.

Turning your gaze from the no chance in hell of a male before you, you went back to your book and enjoyed the afternoon of peace. Book’s may take you on a rollercoaster of emotions; but they would never let you down, never hurt you. They were safe, they were comfort to an antisocial body like you.

If you believed you couldn't be the main girl from any of the books you read, Mattheo thought the opposite. To him you were the central character. You may not have noticed but the Slytherin male noticed you and how you were always reading. Studying you he knew when you had reached a rather fascinating part of a book, for you would draw the book closer to your face, eyes moving slightly faster than normal taking in the words from the pages. Or when you had reached a more romantic moment, for you would have a soft smile upon your face while playing with the necklace around your neck. Or when you came to a sad moment, you would frown and look like you were ready to put the book down, but force yourself to read on.

Compared to the other girls that flirted, threw themselves at him or he could tell they were interested in him, you were a breath of fresh air. Mattheo knew you chose to keep your distance from people. He knew you didn't really have friends, but rather acquaintances. And it wasn’t a bad thing. Sometimes having to put time and effort into relationships was tiresome, and he had thought about taking a page from your book - no pun intended - sometimes.

Soon time passed and students began to head back inside and to their common rooms or dorm rooms, to discard their bags and get ready for dinner in the Great Hall. You finally stopped after a rather thrilling chapter, putting in your bookmark you put the book in your bag before getting up off the ground. After a quick stretch, you slung the strap of your messenger bag over your shoulder and headed back into the castle. The whole time not realizing the deep brown eyes that followed your every more. Or when the owner of the gaze followed you inside, his friends in tow.

There had been a few times Mattheo had had a chance to talk to you, but his nerves would always get the best of him and he would chicken out. Which was very unlike him. Everyone had this image about him. Confident, a little cocky, smartass, chaotic and a tad mysterious. But he honestly was far from most of those words. For the guy couldnt work up the courage to actually talk to you!

Eventually he lost sight of you when Draco Malfoy had called him over. Reluctantly Mattheo stopped and turned from you, though it was very hard to. The fellow Slytherin had informed him that the party in their common room was going ahead. The finer details had been sorted out, and Mattheo was advised to spread the word to anyone from the other houses. Part of Mattheo hoped you would show up to the party, but he wouldn’t hold his breath. For you hadn’t shown up to any recent parties, or really any of the parties thrown.

                                                          ~~~

Later that night in the Slytherin common room, the planned party was in full swing. Student’s were dancing to the loud music, and smuggled alcohol was being consumed. All in all it looked to be talked about for weeks to come. Everyone knew every house threw parties to try and outdo the other houses. And no one was complaining.

Mattheo was standing around with his friends, drink in hand while listening to a story he’d heard Merlin know’s how many times. But get alcohol in anyone’s system and they will say just about anything, all depending on their level of intoxication. He scanned the room, noting all the girls that were eyeing him off and smiling when his gaze rolled over them. But none of them were his little antisocial bookworm.

Though unbeknownst to Mattheo; you had been dragged to the party by none other than Pansy Parkinson. You may not call her a friend, but to her you were. As you were the only brutally honest girl in your year. And Pansy respected you for it. So she had pushed you to come to the party, attempted to get you out of your shell and try to make human contact and conversation. Besides being in a classroom and maybe the brief pass in a hall or meal breaks in the Great Hall, Pansy barely heard you speak. Many thought you were mute because of your lack of speaking.

“Pansy, really I was fine staying in my dorm” you said as the mentioned female held your arm and led you through the dancing bodies. “And did you really have to pick my clothes and do my hair!?”

Ah yes she had to give you a small makeover. Pansy not only wanted to do something nice for you, she also wanted to entice one Mattheo Riddle. Pansy may come off a tad vapid and self centered, but she could see the looks both you and Mattheo gave each other. So she thought a small push might be good for you both.

“You need to socialize. Books are good, but they can’t be everything Y/N/N” Pansy said, giving you a pointed look. “And it's a party, you need to wear something a little more out there”. You rolled your eyes at Pansy’s words.

You looked down at the long sleeved, slightly low cut v-neck top Pansy had picked, and matched with a simple corduroy mini skirt that had buttons down the front. Both clothing items paired with black ankle boots. It was more fashion forward then you are used to. But you decided to humor Pansy, throw her a bone. And with your hair out, cute pins holding the hair back from your face, you felt somewhat like the main girl from your books. Though you could laugh at that notion. You weren’t meant to be the lead.

“Hello boy’s” Pansy said after you both made it through the dancing students, and over to the Slytherin boy’s she hung out with.

Deep brown orbs looked up, shock shining in his eyes upon seeing the creature at Pansy’s side. Mattheo blinked a few times, making sure it wasn't the alcohol that had him seeing you before him. And dressed in something that wasn’t the school’s uniform or lackluster clothing he had seen you in around the castle or at Hogsmeade.

Then his deep brown eyes were met with soft Y/E/C eyes, and his breath hitched before taking it away completely. Never had your eyes met this close before. Sure across the hall or class room. But here you were standing before him, allowing him to see how crystal clear your eyes are. Let’s not forget that the reaction’s Mattheo was having was exactly the same as yourself. You had run over this kind of scenario in your mind, a small moment of fantasy to get you through the afternoon or night. But you had never thought it would ever happen, till this moment.

“Y/L/N? I almost didn't recognize you!” Draco said with a surprised laugh. Which made you shrink into yourself, that self conscious feeling creeping up.

“Oh Draco, be nice” Pansy said, wrapping her arm around you, making you stiffen up from the contact. “Y/N/N is a friend. Play nice”.

‘Friend…how foreign’ you thought, observing Draco and Pansy as they continue to converse.

Mattheo was doing his best to sit back at Draco’s comments. He might have been his friend, but the guy had no ability to read a room or a person. Right from you arriving at the group he could see how uncomfortable you were, how you moved from foot to foot with uncertainty that you should be there. How fish out of water you were.

The group continued to talk, Mattheo speaking only when spoken too. You not talking, keeping to yourself like always. You had moved to sit on the armrest of the couch, once Blaise Zabini said you could and he didn’t bite. Pansy saw the pointed glare Mattheo had given the male for that comment, and she couldn't help the smirk that crept on her face.

“Y/L/N, this is the first party you've come to this year, right?” Draco asked, and you nodded. “I’m surprised you’ve stayed in your room so much. But with your head in a book, it happens”. He laughed.

Mattheo’s fist clenched. He did not like anyone making fun of his bookworm. Downing the last of his drink, Mattheo did his best to keep down what he’d like to say to his friend. He rose from his seat, he decided to get you away from this situation, fueled by the alcohol in his system giving him the courage to do so.

“Y/N” he said, a strange but exciting word leaving his tongue, getting your attention. “Why don’t we get some drinks?” Mattheo asked, holding up his empty cup and silently saying let’s take a break from them.

“Okay…” you finally spoke, not hesitating to get up from the armrest, and moving to follow Mattheo. All the while Pansy watched on, the smile on her face growing with every passing moment.

You both moved over to a corner where the drink’s were situated. Putting down his own cup, Mattheo grabbed a clean cup for you, and proceeded to pour you both a drink. You stood beside him. Not sure what to do or say, just moving from foot to foot. Handing you a cup, Mattheo clinked your cups together before taking a sip from is, not once taking his eyes off you. You followed his lead and took a large gulp of the liquid, hoping it would help with your nerves from the fine specimen before you.

“Don’t listen to Draco” Mattheo started after swallowing his sip. “The guy doesn’t understand how to read a room. He’s full of himself” he finished with a small smile.

You felt your heart skip a beat at Mattheo's small smile, brown eyes focused on you and messy brown curls that were begging to have a hand run through, ever so enticing. The temptation to pinch yourself to make sure this was real, was strong but went against it. If this was a dream you didn't want to wake up. So far tonight was female lead level, not background character. Has the world finally gone mad? This didn’t seem plausible. But here you were. At a Slytherin party. Dressed like a cool kid, drinking and standing before the leading male character. Yeah, if this was a dream you didn't want to wake up.

“It’s hard to not listen to him,” you said looking at your drink. “I’m not exactly known for my social skills” you looked back at Mattheo with a small smile, that did a number on him.

He nodded, “still...don’t take it to heart”. It was your turn to nod your head. “Is your drink alright?”

You looked down at the cup of liquor before back up to the brunet before you. “Yeah, it's fine. Thanks”.

With drink in hand, you both reluctantly went back to Pansy, Draco and Blaise. Upon your arrival, you took to sitting on the couch next to Pansy, as Blaise had moved to sit next to Draco and converse. Mattheo took to sitting on the armrest next to you. You all sat there, conversation being made by the Slytherin friends. You sat there and observed them, being so close to people you had observed from afar was strange. Going from the onlooker, to the insider was new.

After a few more drinks, consumed by you and Pansy, said girl dragged you to dance. You had tried to dig your heels in and protest, but she didn't take no for an answer. You moved with the uncertainty and grace of a baby animal learning to walk. A total train wreck. But Mattheo thought it added to your quirky, cuteness. He watched as you slowly loosen up, and soon moved more freely, feeling the music. The liquor in your system was finally taking effect. You felt like you were floating as you moved around with Pansy, a small smile on your lips and an occasional laugh escaping your mouth.

Once you and Pansy started to get out of breath and tired, both made it back over to the boys. By now their group had gained three other people; two Ravenclaw girls and one Hufflepuff boy. You perched yourself on an armrest catching your breath and fanning yourself. All the while Mattheo never taking his eyes off you, unless entirely necessary.

“How about we play a party game” Pansy said, suddenly looking around the group. “Has anyone ever played suck and blow?”

A few answered they had, Mattheo being one of them. You on the other hand had not, nor any idea of what the game was. Thankfully both Ravenclaw girl’s didn't know what the game was either. So Pansy explained the game. Using a playing card, you had to pass the card around to another player only using your mouth, hence suck and blow. The goal is to make it around the circle without dropping the card; if it's one person or two that drops the card, they need to take a drink from their cup before trying again.

“Everyone understand?” Pansy asked, getting a playing card. Everyone nodded their heads. “Wonderful! Now let's move to sit in a circle.

You all moved to a decent space away from the dance floor. Pansy took charge and made sure it went boy, girl, boy, girl, etc. And making sure to put you and Mattheo next to each other, and sadly one of the Ravenclaw girls on his other side. When everyone was sitting, cups in front and ready to go. Pansy started it off going right, placing the card to her lips she sucked to hold the card in place before getting close to Draco to hand the card off to his mouth. As he came in and sucked, Pansy blew just enough so the card was passed off perfectly. Draco turned and handed off to the other Ravenclaw girl, who then passed off to Blaise. From there he passed onto the next Ravenclaw girl, she just managed to save the card from dropping, making everyone watch with bated breath. She passed the card onto Mattheo, who took it with ease. Then he turned to you, eyes looking directly into yours. He moved close and brought his card covered lips to yours. Thankfully you managed to somehow function and take the card from him. Though his scent, cigarettes and cologne hit you, dulling your sensors for a moment.

The first round would have been successful if the Hufflepuff guy, after getting the card from you, had been able to off load to Pansy. But their timing at pass over faltered, the card falling from them. And they both had to drink from their cups, all the while everyone else laughed. Draco commented she was lucky he didn't kiss her. Which sent your and Mattheo’s minds into thought. That could have been them. How close they would be to kissing. Mattheo had wished he had been tempted and dropped the card, his lips coming in contact with your own. He had always wondered what it would be like, what your lips felt like. He knew he had to do it, the liquor encouraging him to do so.

Draco started this time, passing the card onto Pansy, who then passed it to the Hufflepuff. The Hufflepuff guy looked to be struggling, and Mattheo prayed his pass to you either was successful or it dropped and no lips touching. They were his lips, and only he would get your kiss. The hand off failed and the card fell, thankfully no lip colliding. Both you and the Hufflepuff guy took a drink. But when he tried again, he failed again and had no lip touch. Another drink from the alcohol before you both. Your head was starting to swim, you weren’t sure if you liked it or not. This time the hand off was successful, the group cheering with a laugh. Now you had to pass it to Mattheo. Your heart skipped a beat when his eyes met yours, the pointed gaze he gave you, it sent a shiver down your spine.

You moved in towards Mattheo, just as he moved towards you. You moved your arm, hand on the ground to brace yourself, and it brushed his leg just as you both came in close to pass the card to the other. Feeling your arm brush his leg caused Mattheo to lose his breath. The playing card falling from between you both, as you had just blown the card. Mattheo’s lips came into contact with your lips. Realization flashed across your eyes, that continued to look into the brown pools of Mattheo's. He noted your lips were soft, fitting perfectly with his own. Hearing the laughter and whistles from those around you, you pulled away from Mattheo, saying sorry and avoiding his gaze. He never took his eyes off you, more interested in watching you then playing the game or those around you both.

Pansy was grinning like the cat that got the cream. But then told you both to drink up, which you did, and then had to try again. This time you managed to hand off the card, making sure to avoid Mattheo’s gaze. Afraid that you’d falter and the card would fall, but would you both kiss again? You shook the thought from your head. The thought of kissing him made your stomach flutter with butterflies. Yes, you had fantasized kissing Mattheo. You never thought you would get too. But you did. Truly an experience that no imagination could get right.

After that round a few more people came over wanting to join the game so you opted out, a Gryfindor girl taking your place. You headed over to the drinks table and made yourself another drink, slightly on the stronger side. After kissing Mattheo you needed the drink. You drank your drink watching the group you had just been a part of. You watched Mattheo. He was laughing and enjoying himself. You watched as the Ravenclaw passed him the playing card, she was so close you know she'd gladly get in his lap. Then he turned, now passing the card to the Gryffindor girl, who you saw place her hand on his knee.

Reality washed over you in a harsh wave as you watched those before you. They were laughing, drinking and having fun. The dancing bodies across the room, lost in the music. It was all another life, part of the social scene. One which you knew you didn't fit into. The role of the observer, the outcast screaming in your mind. Part of you telling you that you didn't belong, that Pansy, Mattheo and their friends were humoring you, maybe you were some sick joke for their amusement.

Your breathing began to pick up with the thoughts running through your mind. Maybe you were a joke, a social experiment. Slytherins were known to be cruel. But a small part of you didnt believe Pansy would do that. You both had a mutual respect for the other after one time being in the girls bathroom after Potions class. Two Gyrffindor girls were making fun of Pansy. Unfortunately neither realized that said girl was in the stall next to you. Pansy casually opened the door while one of the girls was mid insult, upon seeing the Slytherin girl all words were lost and silence followed. Next there was the turn of a tap and running water, you gathered Pansy was washing her hands. As she dried her hands, that's when the Slytherin bared her fangs before striking, Pany's retort to what the gossiping girls was the brutalest you had ever heard. Without a word both Gyrffindor's hightailed it out the bathroom. You heard her sigh in frustration. And that was the moment you bumped the cubicle door.

"Who's there!? Come out!" She said in anger.

You exited the stall with hands up, showing no ill intention. Upon seeing you Pansy relaxed, leaning back against the sink. You slowly moved to the sink next to her, when you were sure she wasn't going to verbally abuse you, and washed your hands.

"I know everyone talks about me" Pansy said offhandedly. "I shouldn't play into their hands. But sometimes you have to stand up for yourself".

You nodded your head drying your hands. "I understand. If people are going to paint you as a villain, you might as well give them what they want" and with that you left the bathroom and Pansy.

You downed what was left in your cup before placing it on the table, that was it for the night. It was time to leave, time to take yourself back to your dorm room, where you could finally feel safe and secure. Time to discard the clothing that you wore and put on that that was familiar, trustworthy. You could take refuge in your bed, wrap yourself up in your blankets where no one would judge you, mock you. It was time to crawl back into the background, hide from the main stage and go back to being nothing more.

Mattheo had been playing the tedious game, making his friends happy. But he had been keeping an eye on you. Watching and gauging your every movement. He wondered what was going through your mind. Were you thinking about him, the kiss? Because he had been. It was just about consuming him. And fueled by alcohol he wanted to kiss you again, feeling the courage to do it. When both Ravenclaw and Gryfindor girls had got bold during that round of suck and blow, Mattheo decided to step away from the game, saying he was getting a drink.

Looking back to the drink table and you once he was up on his feet, Mattheo was confused when you werent there any more. He looked around, surely you couldn't have gone far. He spotted your back as you made your way towards the dancing students. Without another thought he went after you. He needed to check on you, make sure you were okay. Coming to a hallway he saw you slowly making your way from the common room.

"Y/N" Matheo called out to you. You stopped upon hearing your name but never turned to face him. "You okay?" He asked, walking closer to you.

You took a deep breath, trying to get your head to focus and form words. You were shocked someone had come after you, but you were in disbelief it was Mattheo. Said male came to your side, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Ah...yeah!" You said a little flustered. "Just heading to my room...all partied out…"

Mattheo nodded his head, though he didn't fully buy your answer. But he did not push it. He was grateful for this moment, for tonight. And wasn't going to ruin it in any way. Mattheo moved to lean against the wall of the hall, his eyes never leaving you. Maybe he was afraid if he looked away you'd be gone.

"You look good" Mattheo suddenly said, eyes roaming over you. "Not that you don't look good everyday! It's just nice to see you in something different!" He'd kick himself if he could. Tripping over his words.

You could feel the blush on your face from his words. Hearing what he had to say made your stomach flip. "Thank you…" you said softly.

Mattheo smiled at your words. "Did you have a good time tonight? Hopefully the party wasn't too boring" he laughed softly rubbing the back of his neck.

You looked up at Mattheo, your eyes meeting yet again. "It wasn't bad…" you started, pausing to think over your next choice of words. "It wasn't bad...just not something I'm used to. After all; I'm the recluse, antisocial bookworm haha".

He nodded. "I get it. But I'm glad you came" he said with a soft smile.

Those butterflies coming back in full force. Pushing off the wall, liquid courage taking over, Mattheo moved to stand before you. He pushed back your hair so it fell over your shoulder and down you back, his finger moving softly along your shoulder, softly caressing the small chain around your neck and finger tips running over the pendant of your necklace.

"I hope you'll come to the next party" he said breathlessly, his brown orbs drowning in your own. "Maybe you could even come to The Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer with us?" Neither of you were sure if he meant just the two of you or with him and his friends. But there was no clearing that up on his part.

"Sounds...good" you replied with a shaking breath.

Flashing you a bright smile Mattheo reluctantly dropped his hand and stepped back from you, allowing you both a chance to breathe. "I will say good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow. That I shall say good night till it be morrow", and finished with a slightly dramatic bow.

At first you were stunned. Letting his words and actions compute in your brain. Once it registered you blushed and laughed softly at his ode to a classic play that you read often.

"Goodnight Mattheo…" you said softly before turning from the Slytherin before you, and finally heading back to your room for the night.

                                                             ~~~

A/N: I’m open to constructive criticism haha. I’m thinking of doing a follow up one-shot, let me know what you think.

[author-kweenyluv]

... Loss (but not really) ...

Inspired by @urdreamydoodles' X-Men x Reader prompt fill You think the enemy killed your lover

There was the distant cry of a familiar voice that made you turn in the heat of battle with wide eyes. Your gaze follows a lithe blue body as it collapses to the ground before your worldview narrows onto the blood pooling beneath the fallen form and its unnerving lack of motion.

Your hearing is reduced to staticky ringing as it clicks slow like your thoughts are moving through molasses. Kurt isn’t breathing. Kurt isn’t breathing.

You feel something in your chest crack at the sight before your lungs fill with cold and a piercing scream cuts the air. It takes a moment to register that it’s your own. Your visions tunnels until all you see is the still body of the man you love and the blood pooling under him.

You see red.

The next punch aimed at your assumed off-guard form never lands, and the enemy combatant who threw it is left wailing on the ground as the snap of bone can be heard echoing from his now mangled arm. You hardly even register your own movements as you silence him with a swift kick to the back of the head. He doesn’t move once he goes limp. Limp. Limp like Kurt.

The next few minutes are a blur of hazy carnage that leaves blood pooling in your mouth, caked under your nails, and bodies left in your wake. You don’t have the presence of mind to check if they’re still breathing.

You’re pulled out of your grief-induced bloodlust by the call of a ghost.

“Please look at me Spatzl… Ich verspreche dir, I’m right here.” He sounded hoarse. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears.

The world doesn’t come back into focus until you feel the worn fabric of his gloved hands cupping your face, his thumbs stroking across your cheeks in a soft, soothing rhythm. “That’s it… come back to me Liebe, I’m right here.”

Kurt’s palms were warm, so so warm.

As your vision clears and you look into his bright, open eyes, you can finally breathe clearly for the first time since you saw him fall. His thumbs don’t stop their steady, gentle rhythm. The blood dripping from your fingers is cold.

“…I thought you died.” You finally manage to choke out in a rough whisper. “I thought you were dead.” Tears burned like fire at the corners of your eyes, and you could finally take in how shallow your breathing had become in your rampage.

Kurt doesn’t say anything more as he pulls you into his chest and holds you close, cradling you as you lean in and wail against his torso. He pays no mind to the blood on your hands as you cling to him like a lifeline. With how shaken you are he fears he might be.

It doesn’t take long for the adrenaline to fade and for your knees give out beneath you, Kurt gently guiding both of you off the messy ground of the battlefield. Although… at this point, it looked more like a massacre with you at its center.

. . .

You don’t remember how you got back to the mansion.

You don’t remember how you shut down and went nearly catatonic in Kurt’s arms. You don’t remember being gently led by the hand over to the Blackbird once the battle was over. You don’t remember the soft mutterings of German in your ear or how they kept your breathing steady. You don’t remember being ushered in-tow behind Kurt to the medbay to get looked over, or getting undressed and patched up.

When you come to you’re on Kurt’s bed curled into his side, the soft rumble of his voice as he talks low and soothing about nothing and everything as the both of you lounge in loose, comfortable house clothes. The tip of his tail flicks lazily over your entangled legs as you thoughts slowly resurface like they’ve been swimming in honey.

“…Kurt?”

The low, rumbling drone of your lover’s voice peters off as he turns his head to look at you, his eyes finding yours as your vision comes into focus. "What-?" Your hoarse whisper was cut off my Kurt engulfing you in a hug.

“Gott Danken Dank bist du zurück.” He says in a rush, holding you tight like you’d disappear if he didn’t.

As they two of you embrace each other close in the aftermath of the battle, the quiet murmurs of your voices lingering in the scant space between you. Gratitude melts to concern before a promise is asked of you.

“Spatzl… please, don’t let grief take you somewhere those who care about you can’t follow. Seeing you I pain like that… Gott im Himmel Liebe, it was agony. I couldn’t bare to see you hurting like that.” He murmured against your lips, his forehead pressed to yours while his breath mingled with your own. “I’m be here with you always Liebe, in this world and the next. Please don’t forget that.”

[cheynovak]

Fairground

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character     

Summary:  Dean and Y/N are enjoying their first date night in ages at a fairground. Y/N wants to go into a haunted house, but Dean, acting oddly, declines. Y/N, leaving the haunted house, is surprised and thrilled by Dean’s sweet gesture.

Warnings: Fluff!

English is not my first language 

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

This amazing idea came from @jackles010378 ❤️

The vibrant lights of the fairground glittered in the twilight, their colors reflecting in Y/N’s eyes as she glanced at Dean, walking beside her. It had been forever since they’d had a night to themselves. Hunting had a way of eating up their time, and finding a moment for a proper date was like trying to catch lightning in a bottle.

But tonight was different—tonight was just for them.

There was a playful glint in his green eyes, and Y/N felt a warmth in her chest, knowing how much he’d gone out of his way to make this night special. The distant music of a carousel drifted through the cool night air, mixing with the laughter of children and the hum of the fairground’s attractions.

Y/N strolled beside Dean, their fingers loosely intertwined. The air was filled with the smell of fried food and the distant hum of carnival rides. After what felt like ages of hunting, running, and surviving, this night was a much-needed break—a real date night.

Dean glanced down at her, a playful smirk on his lips. “So, where to first?”

Y/N scanned the fair, her eyes landing on the haunted house at the far end, its cheesy facade promising thrills and chills. Her face lit up with excitement, and she gave Dean a little tug. “The haunted house! Come on!”

But instead of the eager grin she expected, Dean hesitated. “Eh, I’m not really feeling the haunted house tonight.”

Y/N blinked in surprise. Dean, of all people, loved scary stuff—movies, haunted attractions, real-life monsters, the whole deal. This was his kind of thing. “You’re kidding, right? Since when do you pass up a haunted house?”

He shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I dunno. Just looks… lame. We’ve seen scarier stuff on a Tuesday.”

Before she could push him further, a familiar voice rang out. "Y/N! Dean!" Turning, she saw Charlie waving enthusiastically, a group of her friends in tow.

Charlie jogged over with a grin. “You guys going into the haunted house? You gotta come with us!”

Y/N turned to Dean, giving him her best puppy-dog eyes. “See? Even Charlie’s in.”

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, alright, you go. I’ll catch up in a bit. Just, uh… got something I need to take care of first.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, suspicious but intrigued. “What are you up to?”

Dean flashed her a mischievous grin. “You’ll see. Trust me.”

With a roll of her eyes, Y/N followed Charlie and the others into the haunted house, though she couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder one last time at Dean. He was up to something, she just knew it.

As soon as she disappeared into the dim entrance, Dean’s focus shifted to the shooting gallery just a few booths away. He’d spotted the giant teddy bear earlier—so big, it looked like it could swallow a person whole. He knew Y/N would love it. She never admitted it, but she had a soft spot for stuff like that, and Dean was determined to win it for her.

Dean sauntered up to the booth, where a gruff-looking carnie was leaning against the counter. “Three bucks for five shots,” the man said, tossing Dean an air rifle.

Dean grabbed it and sized up the targets—a row of small, spinning bulls-eyes. Easy enough. He aimed and fired.

Miss.

Frowning, he adjusted his stance and fired again.

Miss.

“Come on…” Dean muttered under his breath. This wasn’t right. His aim was solid, always had been. But every shot was veering just wide of the mark. He fired three more times, missing every shot.

"Son of a..."

“Another round?” the carnie asked, smirking.

Dean grumbled and pulled out another three dollars. “Yeah, yeah, let’s do it again.”

The second round went no better. Dean paid up for a third, and then a fourth. By the time he’d sunk eighteen bucks into the game, he was visibly frustrated.

“This is crap,” he muttered, handing over another crumpled bill. He picked up the rifle again, narrowing his eyes at the targets. He took aim, held his breath, and fired.

Miss.

"Seriously?" Dean growled, his patience wearing thin. "These guns are awful."

The carnie chuckled, crossing his arms. "Nothing wrong with the guns, pal. Maybe it’s the shooter."

Dean’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Oh, is that so?”

Without another word, he reached under his jacket and pulled out his own gun. The carnie’s cocky grin faltered as Dean leveled the weapon at the targets.

"Whoa, man, easy!" the carnie stammered, holding up his hands. "It’s just a game!"

Dean didn’t flinch. With a calm, practiced aim, he fired, knocking down the targets one by one with perfect precision. The sound of the shots echoed around the booth, drawing a few stares from passersby.

Dean lowered his gun, turning back to the now visibly nervous carnie with a smug grin. "Told you it wasn’t me."

The carnie swallowed, his bravado completely gone. “Alright, alright, you win. Just… take the bear and no more funny business, alright?”

Dean pointed to the largest one—the giant teddy bear that was practically his size. The man hauled it down from the shelf and handed it over, grumbling under his breath.

Dean grabbed the bear, its massive fluffy arms flopping over his shoulders as he carried it through the crowd. He had to shift his weight to keep from stumbling, but the grin on his face was worth it. Y/N was going to lose it when she saw this.

Meanwhile, Y/N stepped out of the haunted house, laughing with Charlie. The haunted house had been cheesy fun, full of jump scares and fake ghosts, but it was nothing compared to the real horrors she and Dean faced every day.

As she looked around for Dean, she didn’t see him anywhere. Her brow furrowed. “Where did he go?”

Charlie shrugged, glancing around. “Maybe he ditched us to get snacks?”

Before Y/N could answer, she saw movement—something big, something furry. Her eyes widened as Dean emerged from behind a booth, struggling with the gigantic teddy bear.

“Dean!” Y/N gasped, her face breaking into a smile as she jogged toward him. “What... is this?”

Dean dropped the bear in front of her, standing tall with a proud grin on his face. “Surprise, sweetheart. Thought you could use a new hunting partner.”

Y/N couldn’t stop laughing as she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "I love it! You're ridiculous, you know that?"

Dean wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “Yeah, but you love me for it.”

She leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "That, I do."

As they strolled through the crowed, the colorful fairground lights flickered around them, casting a warm glow over the moment. Dean squeezed her hand, the weight of the world forgotten, if only for a little while.

--

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