#and im more annoyed with myself than she can ever be and she KNOWS that about me. so like. please dont shout at me lol

[b00m-b0mb]

Something really funny that's occurred to me is the way Joe talks about Maccie is like she's some catastrophic event that happened to their family "I can't believe she's been here that long." / "Everything's been different since she was born" / "Everything changed." / "She changed everything."

And it's just rlly funny to me. I want to up the dramaticness of his words at some point. And anyway, he's talking to the Samurai/Ronin for the first time and I'm wondering the impression he's getting lmao

Joe is certainly expressive to me, but only when he's given the chance. And I think w Ronin, he just started letting a lot of stuff out bc thus guy is gonna go on his way anyways.. but then he's like wait!!! Actually let me go?? For a little? (Platonic yearning so bad)

Ronin like 》^. "I suppose.. Alright, curious karate man, I'll accompany you a little longer."

Or something I'm messing around UGH

[l0rd-0f-c0ws]

I frequently feel completely isolated no matter how much I talk to people. So that's fun

[13eyond13]

.

[bittwitchy]

my gift is being annoying, see, i can hate myself and be so horrendously anxious that i think trying to make being alive easier for myself is somehow offensive to others bc thats how so many people online act like literally any accomodations not made by the doctors that dont care abt you at all are somehow unnecessary and ‘fishing for attention’ to the point i ruin myself and destroy my body avoiding accomodations bc i dont want to ‘seem like a bad person’ for quite literally needing help. but give me a tv show and 30 seconds with new information and i will either give you the most thought provoking theory or the most wildcard theory ever and always be correct.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Seeing Green

Gwayne had enough of you and declared he would not be accompanying you on your travels to the town ever again. How glad you were to know Harwin would in his stead.

bodyguard!Gwayne Hightower x Lannister!Reader x Harwin Strong | 2k+ | cw: fem!reader, enemies to lovers, forced proximity ig, im just a girl!reader, angst?, jealousy, typos, etc.

A/N: this is a p2 to seeing red but you dont have to read it to understand whats happening. I have made a next part!

Tagging: @lancedoncrimsonwings @targs-on-zorses @barbieaemond @arabellasleopardcoat

"GWAYNE!" I stick my head out of the carriage window. I scoff as I watch the armored man walk off, "you can not be serious!"

"Serious?!" he snaps, turning back to me with a raised brow and a tense jaw. He rubs his lips as he storms back towards me. His glare is so grave that I actually lean back into my seat and clench my skirt.

Gwayne stomps his foot on one of the steps up the carriage. A line forms between his brows, "you have WORN me!"

I grow tense as flails his hand around.

"I have done nothing but exact your cumbersome and frivolous commands with patience!" He snaps, "and now that I've met my limit yet you have the gall to ask me if I am being serious!?!"

Gwayne's eyes are wide and clearer than the skies. His pointed stare is piercing and I cannot deflect it as he speaks to me of my unreasonableness. Admittedly, my requests were some meant to annoy him, but I did not expect him to act so acridly. I mean, surely he was accustomed to it by now. Was I truly becoming too much to bear for him?

His face is flushed with rage. I stare at him, unable to speak, for in truth I did not know how to meet his apparently genuine frustration.

"Oh," he scoffs, chuckles bubbling out his throat, "she does not speak, for there is nothing else true to say." He grips the carriage door, "what? Have you realized you do work me worse than your own employed servants? That you ask of me more than what I am required of?"

"But it is my right!" I pipe up, though my voice is still small, "you must accompany me wherever I so wander."

Gwayne's jaw feathers, "I am tasked to protect you from peril and to prevent you from doing the unwise," he steps back, "not to carry your clothes and hang them in your wardrobes!"

I stare at him, dread building in my stomach.

"What?!" he quips, "do you truly not see the brunt of my frustrations?"

"... I do not think it unreasonable to-" I gaps when he closes the door with unnecessary force before storming away.

In truth, the gesture was harsher than it needed to be and bothers me more than it should. There is a tightness to my chest as I slowly open the door and watch the man so readily forsake me. Against myself, my eyes begin to prick with tears.

"Gw-" I shut my mouth at the sound of my voice breaking. I chew my lower lip and take deep breaths to calm myself.

I did not mean to make him cross— not like that. I feel my throat tighten as I replay what just happened. Guilt eats at me more each second and soon salt cascades down my cheeks. I sit there until the coachman knocks and asks if we should away. I dismiss him and tell him I will stay here for a little while.

I don't. It feels like an hour passed of me trying not to cry, crying, and calming myself. I start when someone knocks on my carriage door.

"My Lady Lannister?" a deep voice speaks, making me wipe my face in a panic.

I try to stifle my sniffle and use my skirt to dry my tears.

"Tis Ser Harwin Strong. You cannot leave your carriage here."

I clear my throat, but my voice still betrays me with a crack, "ap-ologies. I will have it m-" but my coachman is not here. I sigh and stare at my lap. My lips wobble as helplessness creeps up on me.

A prolonged moment of silence ensues before the man outside speaks again, "my lady... are you well?"

I huff and concede to simply opening the door.

I wipe my philtrum on my sleeve and feel twice as dreadful as I see the dark haired and bearded man outside my carriage. He is a beauty. His blue eyes narrow in concern, "my lady."

I shake my head and gather my skirts.

He instinctively reaches out a hand to me and assists me as I exit my ride. Once I am stood before him, I realize just how tall and broad he is. His brows tighten as he releases my hand. I offer him a smile, "I beg your pardon for the inconvenience. I do not have anyone to move the carriage."

Ser Harwin shakes his head, "one of the stable boys can move it." He turns over his shoulder and hollers for someone to do just that. A boy approaches us, nodding politely before climbing up the driver's seat to do what was instructed of him.

My stomach rolls when the towering man looks back at me. His demeanor is starkly juxtaposed to his stature. He ghosts a hand on my shoulder and raises an arm. He leads me off to the side and speaks softly, "is there anything I can assist you with, my lady?"

I shake my head, "I am well."

He nods and clutches his hands once we find ourselves standing just by the entrance of the Keep, "forgive me, but as a guard of the City Watch, it is my duty to uphold justice. I cannot stand idle in the face of trickery."

My brows quirk at his words. I tilt my head, "do you call me a liar, ser?"

"Yes," he answers simply.

My lips part as his brazen admission.

"True, it is not uncommon for one to weep with joy, but I recognize the distress laid upon your brow," he shakes his head, "would it not be simpler for you to say you require nothing of me than to pretend you are well?"

His words make me choke. I feel my eyes begin to fog with tears.

Ser Harwin's face falls. He raises his hands, "forgive me. I only meant-"

"No," I mumble, "you are right. I injure myself! I speak before I think and create inconveniences for entertainment." I scratch my tears away before they can fall. I look up to the man, feeling dread bite at me. I resist my instinct to slip further into my emotions and try to speak as evenly as possible, "the truth is... I had a... disagreement with my ward... we always get into disagreements, but... this time it was visceral."

The man shifts on his leg, "might I ask what the disagreement was over?"

"He says I work him like a dog, that I ask much more than what he ought to do," I sniffle, "and... perhaps it is true," I evade his gaze by turning to the sky. My lips quiver, "but I did not realize my presence was so heavily insufferable." I look back at him, "I am easy on the eyes, am I not?"

The man chuckles softly, "your features are quite comely indeed, Lady Lannister."

I nod once, "that is the only correct response, ser."

A rich chuckle fills the space between us. He hums and raises a hand, "have you expressed your orders were mere reasons to keep his company?"

My expression drops at his words. I laugh but it goes dry when I realize he spoke no jest. "Ser, my ward is Gwayne Hightower. He loathes me just as I loathe him."

"And do you normally weep for your enemies?" he tilts his head.

"I weep because he regards me so cruelly!" I snap in defense, "it is most twisted for one as he to raise his voice and show aggression to one such as I!"

Ser Harwin sighs.

I wipe my philtrum, feeling my body tremble with a mix of emotions.

"What was this errand you needed to be chaperoned to?"

I gulp as I bring my hands to my hips. I debate the sincerity of his words and decide he does not have the face of a man who would use my words against me. I huff, "the tailor's. I was to have a new dress made for me for-"

His brows quirk at my abrupt halt.

I feel blood rush up my neck, but I decide to ignore it and speak with as much scorn as I could muster, "Gwayne's nameday celebration."

I observe him carefully, ready to pounce and pound him if he so wishes to berate me for the honest admission. In truth, I am taken aback by the curtness of his reply. He nods and offers me an arm, "if it pleases you, I can accompany you to the tailor myself. I have finished my patrol and have nothing better to do."

My eyes dart from the curls framing his face to his meaty arm. My lips part as I find the words to say, "would you... rather not rest for the day?"

"My honor would not allow me after beholding a lady in her distress."

I stare at his arm for a few seconds and cautiously take it.

A good while passed until Gwayne returned to the stables to find his irritating lady. When he sees the Lannister carriage parked, he sighs and marches over, preparing himself to meet the rage of the woman that was still sitting inside in protest.

"Will you sleep-" he starts but stops when he opens the door to nothing. He raises a brow and closes the door. His attention falls on the passing servant, "you. Where is the lady of this carriage?"

The man looks at him then the carriage.

"Lady Lannister," Gwayne clarrifies.

He perks in recognition, "the lady Lannister and ser Strong headed to the tailor on horseback."

"On horseback," the knight scoffs in disbelief, "Lady Lannister?" his voice fades into a laugh. And he so enjoys himself laughing for a moment before sighing, "why, I applaud the good ser for his powers of persuasion."

Upon realizing that he no longer needed to be here, Gwayne grins and nods at him, "thank you my good man. Your news has made my day."

With that he walks off and heads to his quarters.

The next day, Gwayne has a spring to his step as he heads down the hall.

I am in the middle of having my hair fixed when I hear a knock on my door. I look at the reflection from the mirror before me, "come in."

I behold Gwayne and his grin as he struts towards my bed. He leaps into it, landing on his chest. He instructs one of my servants to get him a cup of wine. Each of these things would normally be cause to chew him up; all of these combined would make me unleash upon him the wrath due to his impertinence, and yet, I find myself uncaring of his blatant misbehavior. I merely instruct my servant to fetch the sapphire necklace that match my velvet dress and sit tight by my vanity.

Gwayne takes the wine that is served to him and sips before speaking out, "I hear Lord Harwin Strong was he who accompanied you to town yesterday."

I ignore him in lieu of twirling the baby hairs by my ears.

"And on horseback, no less," he takes another sip, "how ever did he get you to ride a horse by yourself?"

"I didn't," I turn to my servant who returns with my jewels, "we rode on the same horse."

Gwayne stills. He scrunches his face at the cup in his hand then looks at me, "what?"

I smile at myself on the mirror as the necklaces is clasped around my neck. I adjust the blue stone that sparkled between my collarbones and admire the look of it.

He sits up from the bed, careful not to spill his drink, "you rode the same horse?"

"Of course we rode the same horse," I roll my eyes, "he is not a fool who expects me to enjoy such sport."

The red haired man raises his brows. He waits for me to expound further, but finds I am distracted by my reflection. He scoffs, sipping again more before saying, "I pity the steed."

I grin at myself, pleased with my image.

"I pity the steed," he repeats, "that had to carry a knight, a brat, and her hundred dresses."

My eyes dart to him. He is already looking at me from the mirror. "He did not ride with me on the way back. He is not cruel like you."

"So he walked?" his forehead curls, "and on the way back, no less." He scoffs once more before drinking again, "well, the tailor is not that far."

I inspect my attire one last time before standing and heading to the bed. Gwayne lifts his eyes; the corner of his lips soon follow. He shifts on his spot and drinks deeply.

"You are dismissed, Hightower."

He licks his lips as his brows furrow, "what?"

I tilt my head and clasp my hands together, "you do so love making sport of me repeating myself."

Gwayne pulls his head back before standing. He lifts his nearly empty cup, "are you saying you— you have no plans for the day?" He purses his lips, "no errands you wish to force upon my being."

I clench my teeth but manage to pull a smile. Gwayne finds such endearment in the forced grins, not that he would ever admit so. I nod in agreement.

"So," he holds his cup with both hands, "I am free to do what I will for the day."

"Even more so to do it as far away from me as possible," I raise my hands before walking towards him to push him out of my room.

The man chuckles as he finishes what is left of his wine. He manages to hand the empty cup to one of the servants just before we both step out of the room. He licks his lips and tilts his head at me.

The smile that spreads on his face makes my stomach roll and I combat it with a glare, "do not wait on me. I will be promenading with a friend."

"Promenade?" he chuckles. The lines on his cheek remain as he raises his brow. He looks me once over, eyes lingering on the sapphire on my décolletage, "and pray tell, who in the Keep has merited the friendship of someone so high-nosed as you?"

"Ser Harwin Strong."

His grin falters.

I do not care to wonder why as I walk off and meet the man I named in the gardens as we had arranged.

Gwayne watches. He is left alone in the corridor. He chuckles to himself and heads off to the library to unwind. The closer he inched to his destination however, the more sour the taste in his mouth became. Before he even comes near the library, he finds himself marching off to look for gods knows what he'll find.

And it seems the gods do want him to find the source of his sourness. As he marched down one stairwell, he heard an unmistakable sound of laughter that made his ears perk. He heads to the hall and looks out the window.

There, he sees a man stood in front of a woman sat upon a bench, both of them giggling and both of them in blue. His eye twitches as the dark haired fool carelessly picks a flower from a bush and offers it to her.

Gwayne finds no relief when she does not take it, for instead it seems she instructed him to place the flower on the side of her hair.

"Ha," he scoffs, pulling away from the window, "promenade, says she? Ha!" Gwayne shakes his head as his feet take him back towards the library, "neither of them are walking. HA!"

Gwayne cannot help the way his hands clench and unclench as he storms off. He scoffs once again, "fucking Strong," the ire in his chest is molten, prickly, and painful as he adds, "fucking Lannister."

[klovesyall]

Oh my. My brain is full of ideas, but I can't write.

Spencer, but it's his first time showering with his gf? Either she casually invites him to join her, or maybe she's also a member of the BAU and was injured and needs some assistance?

AN: oh absolutely hun. I wasn’t sure if you wanted nsfw or fluff so I went with fluff for a safe option. Also I’m so sorry if this lowkey sucks. This is definitely my first rodeo with writing and I know it’s not perfect but I hope you kinda like it?

OK MORE RECENT AN: im sooooooooooooooooooooooo sorry this took so long. I don’t even have an excuse. And I’m so sorry because this is ASS. But I feel bad not giving you anything so here you go

Warnings: Fluff, swearing? , talk of nakedness and stuff idk

————————————————————

Spencer had been extra protective of you ever since you got hurt. He didn’t want you to lift a single finger, even though you were perfectly capable. He made you food , carried your bags, hell- he even offered to carry you if your crutches got too annoying. All of this to say , he was willing to do anything to make you comfortable.

“Spence, I’m gonna take a shower.” You say with your back turned as you grab some pajamas out of the dresser drawer.

“What?” His voice was filled with concern, as it often was. When you turned around toward him he had the same amount of concern written on his face

“I have to shower Spencer, my hair is so dirty it looks wet.” You haven’t washed your hair in a few days, relying on dry shampoo and braided hair to get you by.

Spencer was thinking for a moment , you could tell by the way his brow furrowed slightly. He finally answers “Let me help you.”

You were slightly taken aback by his response. Spencer wasn’t usually confident enough to initiate or out right suggest anything intimate. And taking a shower together was definitely intimate. Not to say you were opposed to the idea though

“Are You Sure Spence? You do know I shower naked right?” Your tone was some what joking but also kind of not. Regardless you hear the little chuckle you love so much

“Yes I know. I dont want you to fall and get hurt any more than you already are. If you don’t want me to thats fine I just-“

You cut him off

“That would be really helpful, thank you.”

You see Spencer’s worry ease from his face and it’s replaced with a little curve of his lip

You give him a little smile before returning to grabbing your pajamas and walking to the bathroom. Spencer graciously follows you inside, locking the door behind him. When you turn to the counter , Spencer is quick to slip past you, turning on the shower for you.

“Do you take your showers warm or hot.” Spencer asks as if it’s so incredibly normal

“Uh hot I guess? It’s ok I can-“

He stops you when you begin to walk over

“Let me Take Care of you. Please.”

You sigh “you know I can do it myself.”

Spencer takes a step toward you, placing his hands on either side of your shoulders

“I know, but I don’t want to risk anything. You do so much for me and you deserve to be helped as well, especially when your injured. So please let me do this for you.” His voice is soft but you can tell how strongly he feels about this

“Ok, I’ll let you handle it.” I say

He smiles “can I take your clothes off?”

I Nod “You don’t have to ask.” You said that a lot, and it didn’t matter how many times you did. Spencer always asked

He grabbed the bottom of your shirt and you raised your arms. He pulls the shirt off your body and folds it before placing it on the counter. He does the same with your pants. Your standing only in your underwear now

“Do you want me to do the rest?” You ask

He shakes his head “turn around for me.”

You turn so your back is facing him and he unclasps your bra, sliding it down your arms until it hits the floor. He hooks a finger under your underwear on either side of you, pulling them down and helping you step out of them. He smiles when he meets your eyes again

“See something you like pretty boy?” You raise an eye brow in a teasing manner.

“Always.” He replies before walking you over to the shower. Holding his hand, you slowly take a step inside until your under the water. Once inside , Spencer takes a step back and sheds his clothes as well before joining you in the shower.

Spencer had ensured that you had a shower bench installed into the bathroom you shared when you moved in together. He said it was for safety reasons but, you still wondered if it might be for other things.

“Sit.” Spencer says, leading you to the bench.

When you sit down he detaches the shower head and wets your hair. When it’s what he considers wet enough, he lathers shampoo into his hands and begins to massage it into your scalp.

This man has very capable hands, many uses. And washing your hair just got added to the list of them. You close your eyes from a moment letting out a contended sigh

“Feel good sweetheart?” Spencer asks gently

“Mhm, definitely.” You reply, barely opening your eyes.

Spencer rinses out the shampoo and conditions your hair. He helps you wash off and when you finally stand , you wrap your arms around his neck. His hands lace around your waist

“Thank you Spencer, you’re an angel.” You say pressing little kisses to his jaw. You can see the blush creeping on Spencer’s face.

“You’re welcome, I’m always happy to help you.” He says peering down at you.

The two of you exit the shower. Wrapping towels around your selves and getting dressed- well Spencer refuses to let you dress your self so he helps you. He even blow drys your hair for you because he knows you don’t like going to bed with it wet.

————————————————————

You lay in bed on your side facing him as he looks back at you. You reach out and brush a strand of his hair out of his eyes.

“You should stay home tomorrow.” Spencer says breaking the silence.

“Absolutely not. I’m perfectly capable of going into work. Plus Hotch would have my head if I didn’t go.” You say and Spencer sighs

“I don’t like the idea of you out on the field” he says once again with concern

“You’ll be with me. I’ll be fine.”

He sits up “I don’t want you to be fine I want you to be healthy.”

You sit up and scoot close to him “Spencer I’m going to work. If it makes you feel better I’ll stay back with Penelope and help her.”

Spencer relaxes a little “yea. Ok that makes me feel better. But don’t go doing anything stupid. That means no trying to entertain Penelope with” Spencer throws up air quotes “crutch tricks”

You groan and lay back down “whatever you say.”

You can hear Spencer’s little laugh as he turns off the lamp.

[allpiesforourown]

Hello..If you don't mind, can I ask your top 5 (or top 3) favorite characters from SVSSS? And why you loved them? And your top 5 favorite moments from the series?

Also, if you don't mind me asking (again), what do you think are Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe's greatest personality strengths and weaknesses? Why? What do you love about their dynamic? Sorry if you've answered these questions before.....

Okay that would take FOREVER so I'll just do my top 5 fav characters and my fav scenes with them

5. Ning Yingying - she's sooo silly... it was so wonderful being introduced to her and seeing her as a dumb airhead who unknowingly gets people in trouble (the pendant incident) and watching her overtime become someone responsible.

OKAYYYY QUEEN i just know she would run Qing Jing peak like it's the navy.. Also very important to me that although she gets serious when the time calls for it, her personality still has remnants of that silly girl we were first introduced to (for example during the return to childhood extra where she assumes a grown ass child is Shen Yuan's baby)

4. Original Luo Binghe

i could spend HOURS talking about how tragic his life was but honestly my reason for liking him as a character is really simple. He gets horny for people who are nice

The fact that he knew the original goods for YEARS and then Shen Yuan gave him cuddles and Bingge went "wait actually Shen Qingqiu is kind of hot??" Real as fuck . I just know after he returned to his world it was like

Bingge: you would be sexier if you were sweet and kind

Sha Hualing: im sorry do you KNOW who you're asking this of

3. Shang Qinghua is... way too real. I feel like everyone can relate to him, especially with how terrible the world is right now. He can't do anything to go against the plot he himself wrote. He's the painful mixure of "if only I had done that differently" and "I can't do anything at all" that everyone experiences.

Moments like this, such as Shang Qinghua interrupting Bingqiu's honeymoon really make his character even more tragic. Without Mobei-Jun, he doesn't really have a place to go... he didn't take the offer to return to his homeworld because there was no one waiting for him there. Even when he's having dinner with his friend, he knows he can't ask for more because sticking around would annoy Binghe. Just kind of wandering around alone and seeing other people be happy together and have a place to go sucks ://

2. My second favourite scene and my second favourite character: Luo Binghe

This scene really made me love SVSSS because it's so rare to find media where characters are actually allowed to be human and insecure. Like I know we call Binghe manipulative and toxic (and he is!) but EVERYONE has at some point in their life felt like they hate them self and no one loves them.

The fact that Luo Binghe has these emotions and they're relevant to the plot is so special to me. It's so disillusioning when a character goes through trauma after trauma and it's never talked about. Binghe going "shizun I hate myself and I want to end the world about it" was just.. *chef's kiss*

My favourite scene byfar: Shen Yuan hugging Binghe in Shen Jiu's memories

I think this was the final nail in the coffin for making me love Shen Yuan.

For all that he insists, "I'm just farming points so the protagonist won't kill me!" when he's put in a situation like this, he's more loving than ever. He can't touch Binghe, but all he wants to do is wipe his tears. It pains him so much to see his dear disciple hurt and vulnerable that he can't do anything but kneel down and try to hug an image of the past. He knows Binghe can't hear him but still tries to comfort him.

"Shizun will never hit you again." is a line that absolutely makes me go crazy, because Shen Yuan was never the one who hit Binghe, that was the original goods. He doesn't care if Binghe knows that it wasn't him who hurt him. All he cares about is making sure Binghe knows it will never happen again, and that Shen Yuan will love and protect him.

Shen Yuan tries so sooo hard to come across as a "reasonable" character but he can't hide how sentimental and emotional he is. He'll complain about how the characters in PIDW don't use their brain, but then you show him a memory of a crying child and say "this happened in the past and there's nothing you can do about it" and he'll still try to hug that child and tell them to stop crying and that they'll be okay. God I love Shen Yuan

[drvscarlett]

Let Him Cook Pt4

Series Part 1, 2, 3, 4

Taglist: @bookstore-of-dreams @barcelonaloverf1life @ririyulife @minseok-smaus @mehrmonga @sltwins @charlesgirl16 @six-call @spideybv28 @casperlikej @weekendlusting @janeholt3 @evie-119 @leilanixx @randomgirlnumber-13 @itsjustkhaos

Y/NCooks just posted a photo.

Y/NCooks Finally some vitamin seaaaaaaaaaaaaa

User1 Oh she is living the life!

Friend1 Say hi to the boyfriend for me

YNCooks he says hi Friend1 enjoy lovebirds!!!

User2 She is so hot and her boyfriend is equally hot. Power couple!

User3 Something about that back and that filter seems kinda familiar.

User4 OMG right? Its like I know it from somewhere but I can't pinpoint it. User5 I thought I was the only one but it seems like its really familiar.

User6 Its giving a pinterest vibes! She is everything I aspire to be.

User7 Are you still the one in-charge of cooking Y/N?

Y/NCooks Yuppp. But don't worry because he lifts the grocery and pays for the food, its an equal relationship User8 The boyfriend seems like a catch

User9 God when will it be me?

Charles_Leclerc just posted a photo.

Charles_Leclerc good food and good company

User1 Who is that??? Who is that hand?????

User2 Charles is finally breaking his single streak, a sad day for all the Charles girlies

PierreGasly Oh so that's why your boat was missing Charles_Leclerc I'm not discussing it here PierreGasly We just want to know, who is the lucky lady User3 Ohmygod Pierre just found out just like we all did

User4 That blue filter is back

User5 Just when we thought he forgot about it

User6 why is everyone and their partners softlaunching in a yacht

User7 who else is in a yacht? User6 There's this homecook and masterchef winner named Y/N that is softlaunching their partner on a yacht User7 Oh bestie that back looks familiar, don't you think User9 User9 SUSPICIOUS!!! User9 Nah, I highly doubt Charles can bag a chef. I mean the man couldn't cook pasta and its just pasta User7 you are probably right, im just delulu

"This is getting mildly annoying"Charles pouted "Usually they are quick to connect the pieces"

"All in due time honey"

It was actually a funny thing for you since fans find it highly impossible that Charles could bag a chef as his partner. You wouldn't tell Charles but you admit that his cooking skills is not a major selling point to a lot of chefs out there.

Ever since MasterChef ended, you two have been open about going public. The relationship has been kept in wraps for over 3 years so Charles is feeling pretty confident that it has already been a tested by time. But more than that, Charles opened up how he wanted to go public so that he'll be able to showcase his support.

"I can't wait for them to figure it out just so I can tell the world that I am the luckiest guy in the world for having you as my partner" he clings to you as a loopy smile appears on his face.

"And I can't wait to showcase the world how you have been drastically improving with your cooking skills" you smile "You can be my sous chef when you are off season"

"I'm not really sure if you are being sarcastic but I'll take this as a win and I'm considering myself masterchef approved"

The Gordon incident

There were 5 missed calls from Charles which made you slightly worried. You were unable to answer the call since you were driving home. You immediately rushed to the apartment and you saw a weird scenario. Charles was spread out on the floor, face down and seems to be in pain.

"What happened to you?"you asked as you set down your bag at the counter.

"Leave me be, I am a disgrace. I have fallen from heaven." Charles moped.

"Seriously honey, what's going on. You are scaring me"

Charles only lifted his phone for you to look at. You looked at it and it was a screenshot from Twitter with a quote tweet from Gordon about the pasta incident.

"Charles, you can't bag a chef if your cooking is as disastrous as that. Call me when you have the time-Oh my god. Gordon did not just say that" you burst out laughing.

"Laugh in my misery, go ahead and laugh."

You have to contain your giggles but then you cannot seem to help yourself. Charles continued to mope at the floor how no one will believe that you are his girlfriend now.

"It was just one time that I wasn't able to cook pasta properly, one time"

"Yes honey but the internet is forever"

After a while, Charles got up and you were slightly confused when he started bringing out the pots and pans out of the cupboard. He took out some of the pasta and then he grabbed his apron.

"You are going to teach me and we won't stop till I get a good pasta redemption" Charles said with full determination.

There was a bright idea that suddenly popped in your head, "I think I can do something better than that"

You started to type in your phone and after a while your phone started ringing. A familiar face on the screen and Charles almost fainted after hearing the accent.

"YOU GOT GORDON ON SPEED DIAL TO TEACH ME?"

Dinner with the drivers

The Australian Grand Prix was the first time that you actually met Charles' friends and former teammates. Charles arranged for an exclusive dinner with the grid drivers of 2025 in your restaurant.

"How did you get a reservation here Charles? I have been trying to get one for my parents, they love the Chef here and supported her during the masterchef days"Oscar asked.

"I know someone" Charles was trying his best to suppress his grin and elaborate further.

"Make sure to tell me later, I would love to bring my parents here. Cheers mate"

Dinner went on progressively well. There were variation of cuisines available and it catered to their specific Even Lewis loved that the vegan option was vast and Nando even agrees that if this is how much food options vegan has then he can go Vegan.

It was now tiMe for dessert and some drivers opted for a coffee while some thinks they deserve for a cheat day.

"Is this Ferrari's new strategy to shaving weight?"Max joked "Make the other drivers eat more so the car will be unbalanced"

"Fred is getting more creative with his strategy eh. Last year with my appendix and this year with Charles' food"Carlos agreed

The whole table erupted with the antics but Pierre is dying with curiosity already. Charles kept on mentioning how tonight is a really important night for him to announce something. He can't forget this dinner since its all that Charles has been talking about ever since they arrived in Australia.

"But in all honesty, you said you have something to tell us Charles" Pierre wondered "I'm dying to know"

Charles excused himself for a second and all the drivers on the table watched as he went to the kitchen. You were still in your chef's jacket when Charles spotted you.

"Is it time already? Do I look okay?"

"You look more than gorgeous mon amour"Charles replied, giving you a soft kiss to the cheeks.

The two of you walked out of the kitchen with hands interlaced with one another. The table suddenly fell quiet as they saw the two of you approaching the table. Charles has the most smug grin on his face.

"Everyone, I would like you to introduce the talented and amazing Chef for tonight Y/N" Charles lifted your intertwined hands "And she's also my girlfriend"

The drivers were all silent and shocked as they pieced out everything together. Then the flurry of questions started.

"Did you try Charles' pasta?" "Were you poisoned to say yes to him?" "How on earth did Charles get a MasterChef winner" "Can you teach me how you made the appetizer with the pea and corn"

It was so funny and you two were in a long night for explaining. But as you sat down bext to Charles, you felt at ease. You know that you can handle anything together.

The accidental reveal

Charles_Leclerc just posted a photo.

Charles_Leclerc We’ll do everything together to get as many of those trophies in the years to come

User1 Charles is a future WDC

User2 those trophies needs a little bit of polishing, don't you think?

User3 The dust that they have been collecting

User4 Leave the man alone, he's away from home 24/7

User5 is it just me or did you guys see the MasterChef trophy at the back

User6 isn't that the australian trophy, maybe its the p2 from last year User7 nooo! User5 is right, it has the logo

User8 SIR THAT TROPHY IN THE BACK ISN'T YOURS

landonorris lol since when did you have time to do a sidequest with masterchef while we race User10 LANDO! maxverstappen1 surprised he can hold himself till the end. CarlosSainz55 surprised he can cook Charles_Leclerc uninvited for dinner landonorris NOW WAIT A SECOND

Charles_Leclerc and Y/NCooks posted a photo.

Charles_Leclerc spot the game difference is getting difficult.

User1 Man really said fuck it!

User2 I can't believe this crossover

User3 If someone told me this happened a year ago, I would have laughed at you User4 There is no way Charles_Leclerc Why not, I have lots of redeeming qualities

User5 So you mean to say Charles Leclerc is the boyfriend she has been talking about in MasterChef. How did we not piece this out together?

User6 The adopted by the italian family. The cake after Charles P3 in Jeddah. The long distance relationship. THE LECLERC BROTHERS AS HER CLOSEST FRIENDS. HOW DID WE NOT SEE IT User7 I think its because we think Charles can't bag Y/N Charles_Leclerc you all underestimated me

User8 My new favorite trope, the woman who loves to cook for Gordon and the man who loves to get grilled by Gordon

User9 IM LAUGHING! Remember that tweet Charles_Leclerc I'll have you know that I have improved!

User12 Where can I get Y/N, she is so beautiful and talented

Charles_Leclerc sorry out of stock!!!!

User10 Im laughing at how Charles is fighting everyone in the comment section. He really said, he has time

Y/NCooks posted a photo

Y/NCooks the first two was taken two weeks into dating. We preferred staying indoors and the comforts of the house so we could have our privacy. Charles burned the fries and that's a photo of him insisting it was crispy not burnt // fast forward to two weeks ago when he insisted on cooking pasta and making pizza, it was pretty good. The pasta was actually al dente and the pizza was made from scratch.

Thank you honey for growing with me for the past 3 years. I love you all the way from Melbourne to Monaco (or whichever country you are in rn)

User1 This is so wholesome, I ship them together

User2 CHARLES CREMATED THE FRIES

User3 3 YEARS???? THAT MADE ME EVEN MORE SURPRISED

Gordongram FINALLY. The boyfriend is revealed. Hope I can taste some of your cooking Charles_Leclerc

Charles_Leclerc please have mercy on me Y/NCooks He cooks as much as he can so he can cook for you as a thanks for your tutorial lessons User5 GORDON TAUGHT CHARLES???? WHATTTT

User6 God I have seen what you have done for others

User7 I'm looking back at every post of Y/N about the boyfriend. I think I'm sleeping at the highway

User8 same, they are so lovely with each other

User9 Couple goals!

Charles_Leclerc I love you so much. But I thought you deleted that first date photo

Y/NCooks the internet is forever honeyyyyy User10 I love them so much

landonorris so now the cat is out of the bag, can you teach me how to cook now?

yukitsunoda0511 me tooooo! maxverstappen1 i wanna learn too Charles_Leclerc you're cooking maxverstappen1 ??? maxverstappen1 if you can cook, anyone can cook Charles_Leclerc you are always cooking during the races, let me have this maxverstappen1 no :)) landonorris I JUST WANT COOKING LESSONS!

[dollcherray]

W W W W WAITTT. I dont know If you do this but can you do a Δlice x reader but the reader is always sneaking into her room. (IF NOT I APOLOGIES A MILLION TIMES.)

୨୧ HANSEL ✮⋆˙

Alice x Reader who keeps sneaking into her room

Tw: Slight killing mentions but nothing more than that.

A/N: i was waiting for this moment, reader is gender neutral, Alice is frustrated, your frustrating, probably OOC Alice, Oliver and Alice arent dating in this, kind of short , im in a hurry rn so its prob poorly made 😭 (didnt know if you wanted hcs or oneshot so i did oneshot)

Type: Fluff, Romantic, Oneshot

୨୧ You are so frustrating, you really are, why do you keep doing this?

You kept sneaking into her room, and everytime, she would attack you for it and YOU somehow kept escaping her claws and KEPT coming back, she thought at first tha you had a death wish, then she thought you were trying to annoy her, but now, she just gave up and was here, feeling you lean against her and babble about something, probably about your classes and collegues.

—“Uh, Alice, are u even hearing?” your loving annoying voice invaded her ears and snapped her back into reality as she turned her attention to your face, who was puzzled and awaiting for her answer even though you probably knew it and Alice looking at your face for some time gave that confirmation, you only sighed in disappointment, but before you could even talk, Alice spoke up with her dark and firm tone.

—“why do you keep coming here?” The princess spoke up, simply looking at you with an angry countenance, and what made her more annoyed is how your expression just looked unbothered by her question and you taking your time to answer, cant u get a fucking hint?

—"Because, you seem to never have any visitors, so i decided to be your first one to keep you company" you said, normally and happily, you thought that your comment wouldnt really have much meaning to Alice but that struck the demon girl like lightning; someone, wanting to keep HER, company? thats new.

—“wait, did you have any visitors before me?" Alice looked at you with an unreadable look, as if she was analyzing something about you, before a silly smirk crept on her face.

—“well, i did have, but, none of them got out to see the light of day, so i guess your the only one that counts” Alice said with an smug and oddly cute smile no one ever got the chance to get off of her, so that alone was one heck of an achievement.

—“im honored to be the first visitor to the royal princess Alice” you said in a playful tone as you gestured a silly bown with ur head, getting a little breathy laugh out of the brown haired girl who tickled ur cheek with the point of her claw.

maybe you werent really that bad ♡

A/N:(im gonna go eat now and rest then come back to writing, dont wanna burn myself with writing)

[7ouls]

im REAAAAALLY sorry for the likje longest wait ever but in the meanwhile i've wiorked on my oc too so i'll prob post abt it soon. sorry if this is short or bad but it took me a long time to get motivation to write this 😓

(this isnt proofread so if u see any mistakes dont mind them i’ll correct them tomorrow cause im too tired)

fem! reader btw

Daisuke never liked to rely too much on other people, he was always told how annoying he can be so that would make him even more of a weight than he already is.

Although he can’t complain when his girlfriend is the one who gets to take care of him. After what happened at the Tulpar you could see big changes in his attitude, he tried to smile at you but you can see that it’s not the same genuine lovely smile he used to give you in the past, when he was still on earth with you.

You were his girlfriend before he got the news from his parents about the internship and no matter how much you tried to convince him to not leave he still did, promising you that he’d come back for you. He wasn’t wrong, but this isn’t what you were expecting.

He had many scars around his body, barely able to move. He was put in a wheelchair for a few months, just until the scars have healed and he could get back in feet.

Daisuke’s parents found him a therapist, ignoring the boy’s wishes not to. Because after all he had you, you were the only one who he opened up with about what happened to all of them, about how guilty he felt for them. You were the one holding him in your arms after he cried on your shoulder for hours, you were the one changing his dirty bandages but most of all you were the one that loved him.

At nights like this you liked to wait until Daisuke was sleeping to leave him on your shared bed and go out your balcony to watch the sky filled with the city’s light, and when days were harder you took the hidden pack of cigarettes and light one up.

As you were watching the sky above your head you felt moving inside the house but didn’t think much of it, as it could be your pet just wandering around.

Your presumption turned out to be wrong as you heard your name be yelled from your bedroom, you quickly get inside to check on the voice and found your boyfriend on the floor. You run to him and slowly get him back on your bed. He pouts seeing your worried face checking for any damage.

“Are you okay? How did you get down there, most importantly why were you th-“ He stops you before you can bombard him with even more questions.

“I’m sorry Y/n, i just needed to drink something and when i saw that you weren’t here i tried to take it myself but i couldn’t...” You could see the disappointment in his eyes, you thought he might be feeling like a weight on your shoulders so you tried your best to comfort him.

“Daisuke look at me. You don’t have to apologise, it’s my fault. I should’ve been there for you but i wasn’t and i’m sorry about that. You shouldn’t force yourself to move too much, the doctors said that your body is still too fragile to sudden movements.” The boy looked at you, the mention of doctors saddened him.

“I’m so tired of these doctors, i sometimes wish you could be the one treating me instead. And the therapist girl always keeps trying to make me spill stuff, is it wrong that i don’t want to talk about it? She keeps asking about you a lot too, she might be thinking that you know more than her.”

“She wouldn’t be wrong, if it makes you feel any better i could try speaking with her.” He tiredly nodded at you and you both get back in bed, drifting off into sleep while holding him.

“Goodnight Y/n, i love you.”

IDK HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS. i weote it in 2 hours so maybe that why its so bad and yea im so tired idek what im saying

[kassiekole22]

im so excited to be able to share this request with you! 🥺 — could you do a headcanon with syzoth x princess!reader? *in my mind she's mileena and kitana's sister. — and she doesn't feel so included among the sisters and finds comfort among "the banished"

Ok, so just a warning: When I read this, I thought you wanted a fic. And I was already deep into this when I realized that you wanted headcanons. 😂 So if you want, I can still do the headcanons for you too. Just let me know! 🙂 And to my other requests, your fics are on their way! Anyway, here it is! My first ever Syzoth X Fem!Reader fic! Enjoy! 💚🖤💚🖤

No Longer Alone

Description: Being stuck in your sisters' shadows was never easy, especially when you live in the royal family of Outworld. You always felt as if you came in last compared to them and felt so alone. That is until one day when a mysterious man literally crashes your festival... Warnings: Fluff, Sad And Lonely Reader And Sad And Lonely Syzoth. Word Count: 2.6k MasterList: 🖤 Kassie's Angels: @lorebite, @mornandil. (If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

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Never would I have thought that on that day — the day a strange man came crashing into our festival — that my life would change for the better forever. As much as it pained me, I wasn't allowed to interfere when the man went into battle with my sister. Being the youngest of the three royal sisters of Outworld, I was bound to the sidelines as I watched my sisters deal with any situation — unless they needed more numbers in a battle, of course.

I knew that they were only protecting me and that they didn't want to put my life in danger unless it was really necessary, but I couldn't help but feel left out. It was as if no one took me seriously — as a princess or a fighter — and that stung worse than any wound I would ever receive in any battle.

I sat on a nearby stool, watching the altercation from afar. It worried me, watching my sisters battle with no way to aid them. But I had no choice. I was damned to just sit and watch — just like the people I've been told are beneath us. Though I never really thought they were. What right did I have — someone who was born into royalty — to sit there and claim that my life was more valuable than any other. It just felt wrong. After some time, the fight seemed to come to an end with both the man and my sister seemingly not severely harmed. And then surprisingly, my two sisters approached me with the young man at their side.

I couldn't keep my eyes from following the man as he came forth. He seemed so different — so... Beautiful. There was something about him that lured me in. I just couldn't place my finger upon it at the time.

"(Y/N)," My sister — Kitana — addressed me and I stood.

"Yes, sister?" I responded as I stepped closer and bowed my head as a symbol of respect. It was what mother taught me to do, since my sisters were older and wiser than myself.

"This is Syzoth — he has come to aid us in upcoming battles." She notified me while introducing the mysterious man.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Syzoth." I greeted him kindly. "I am (Y/N). The third daughter of King Jerrod and Queen Sindel."

The man nodded with a smile stretching the corners of his lips and — to my surprise — he bowed before me. "It's my pleasure, princess."

I had never earned that type of respect from someone so soon. Being so young in a family of royals, many don't appreciate me the way I — at least — felt I deserved. I let my eyes linger upon the man as he stood to his full height and smiled warmly in my direction. He was so different compared to anyone I had ever met before.

After letting out a slightly annoyed sigh, Mileena broke the silence that had fallen between us all. "Sister, show Syzoth to one of our guest cabins by the castle. He can rest there for the time being."

I nodded eagerly and my sister handed me a key to said cabin, and then I gestured to the man to follow me in the direction I was planning on going. As I began walking down the stone road with him at my side, I could hear Kitana call out with concern filling her tone, "Be cautious, sister!"

I shook my head as an amused smile curled my lips. She was always so concerned for my well-being. But she should know that I can very much take care of myself. After all, they both made sure to train me well.

Most of the walk was silent until I noticed how the man watched his surroundings with much curiosity. He looked at everything as if it was new to him. I couldn't keep myself from glancing over in his direction once in a while just to watch his interesting behavior. 

'Is he from another realm?'

"So — where do you hail from, my friend?" I asked as we turned down a new pathway, leading towards where the guest cabins were.

"Oh, I'm from Outworld." He replied, much to my surprise. "Just not these parts of Outworld..."

The comment very much intrigued me and I wanted to know more, "Not this part?" I pushed carefully.

"Ever heard of Zaterra?" He asked with a hint of resentment and... Something else in his voice. Perhaps sorrow? I couldn't help but wince as the word greeted my ears and I responded with a simple and rather nervous, "oh..."

We reached the cabin but just as we went to say our goodbyes and part ways, I noticed a pretty deep and bloody gash on his right bicep. Being used to tending to my sisters' battle wounds when nurses weren't accessible, I knew the right thing to do was offer assistance.

"My — that wound looks pretty deep. I think there is a medical kit in the bathroom of this cabin. Do you want me to clean you up?" I offered kindly and he quickly shook his head.

"No, princess. I've already disturbed your night enough. Go enjoy the rest of your festival."

I mirrored his previous actions by shaking my head, denying his refusal. "No, I insist. It will only take a few minutes of my time."

After a minute of hesitation, the man accepted my offer with a nod of his head. I opened the door of the cabin with the key my sister had given me, we entered the cozy place and I instantly headed straight to the bathroom to retrieve the medical kit.

Once I returned a few minutes later with the needed items in hand, I saw Syzoth sitting on the couch in the middle of the room, looking around at his surroundings curiously like before. I found it oddly cute, how he seems so fascinated with all around him. I decided to watch his actions for a minute longer, before entering the room to greet the man once again.

I sat down right beside him on the couch, and quickly got to work on his wounded arm. He would flinch every once in a while, but he was pretty good at staying still for me. The room fell silent for the time being but it was actually fairly nice. He watched as I cleaned and bandaged his arm, but I didn't feel judged or criticized like I usually did whenever I was being trained by my sisters or mother. I felt... Rather calm with this man. I liked it.

"There you go — all better now." I announced as I finished wrapping the soft cloth around his muscular arm as carefully as I could.

He looked down at his arm for a moment, carefully inspecting the bandage before looking up at me with a grateful grin.

"Thank you, princess. You did a wonderful job."

I could quickly feel my cheeks stinging with heat and I instantly looked away to hide the blush I knew had stained them crimson. As a royal, I knew I couldn't mingle with one my family didn't approve of first. And besides, he could never feel that way for me anyway. Growing up, all the men in my village were always attracted to my sisters like moths to a fire. And it seemed to me that I was the lavender that repelled them. They haven't wanted me all my life, so why would they now? I quickly looked for anything to steer the conversation in a new direction and distract the man from my rose-dusted skin.

"Um... So, I must ask..." I began, struggling to find words as I thought hard of a good question to ask him — anything to steer the conversation away from dangerous territory. "I've never seen Zaterra, but I have heard stories about it from my ancestors. You don't necessarily look Zaterran. Were you adopted?"

The man stared at me for a moment with a blank expression — as if I had just said the most obsurde thing he had ever heard — before laughing heartedly for a few minutes. He shook his head as he calmed down from his fit of giggles, finally looking back at me with a large smile of amusement.

"No, I am not adopted. I am indeed Zaterran, princess." He informed me. Still being very confused, I just had to push for a clearer answer. 

"I do not understand. You look so— so—"

"Human?"

"Yeah,"

At that moment, Syzoth leaned forwards and lowered his voice as if to tell me something that was only meant for my ears to hear. I leaned in closer — until our faces were merely inches apart — and it had just then dawned on me that I had never been this close to a man before. My heart began racing as I felt his hot breath fan my skin like a warm summer's breeze. I was sure that I was blushing again.

I could see his face better now — every little detail of his tattoo, his beautiful light green eyes, the aged scars that were across his face and soft pink lips. I wanted to run my fingers along the inked design to see what it felt like, his soft green eyes lured me in like a wolf to the stars at night, and those soft pink lips... I wondered at that moment what it would be like if I leaned in a little closer and let them gently caress my own — how good would that feel? But then his low voice finally brought me back out of my little fantasy.

"Can you keep something only between you and me?" He whispered in a volume so quiet, I almost couldn't catch the words to comprehend them. I nodded slowly and he stood up from his spot, backing away from the couch. "Promise me you won't be frightened, princess?"

Though that last sentence did make me a bit worried and nervous, I nodded my head in agreement. Merely a few seconds later, the man disappeared. I was pretty confused but then suddenly a large, reptilian creature appeared right before me. He stood around 8-9ft tall, towering over me as he licked his big fangs. I could only gasp as my eyes stayed focused upon the creature — my body now completely frozen in shock. I couldn't comprehend how this beautiful man could transform into a reptilian creature. It seemed impossible. But it was Outworld, so I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised.

The creature then came forward and lowered his head to my side, showing that he had no intention of devouring me like my ancestors told me Zaterrans do. I placed my hand upon the top of his head and stroked his scales a few times to show that I wasn't afraid of him in his — I suppose natural form. He let out a low rumble that emitted from his chest and I couldn't help but giggle a little bit at the fact that he enjoyed the affection much like a tamed dog. He was actually quite a beautiful creature. I always had an appreciation for reptiles that my family could never understand.

The creature eventually backed away and suddenly, Syzoth was once again in his human form. He stood before me with a rather cheeky smile set on his lips. Whether he found it amusing how shocked I was or was just happy that I didn't run away, I am unsure. He approached the couch and sat down once again, staring into my eyes with almost hopeful ones.

"When my people found out about my "curse", I was terrorized and run out. They called me a freak..." He peered down to his hands folded in his lap as he whispered the last sentence as if it hurt his heart to speak those words, and that hurt my heart as well. Because in a way, I knew what it was like to be treated differently than others. "But that's why I'm here: To make a new and rewarding life for myself."

"You're not a freak," I exclaimed with a reassuring smile while placing my hand on his own. He glanced up at me as if he was surprised to hear me say those words — lips parted as if he wanted to speak, but didn't know what to say. "And I don't think it's a curse; It's a gift."

"So you are not afraid, princess?" He asked with a hint of nervousness in his tone and I shook my head.

"Of course not, Syzoth. I think your Zaterran form is rather beautiful. And you must be a mighty good fighter?" I nudged his shoulder playfully with my own and he huffed a short laugh.

"Perhaps once you are queen, I can be your protector?" He suggested as his lips curved up into a pretty attractive smirk. My heart began to beat faster once again for only a second until his words finally sunk in.

"Unfortunately, that won't be possible." I mentioned and he looked at me with confusion etched in his features. I figured that I should explain more thoroughly. "My sister — Mileena — is next in line to inherit the throne from our mother. I will never be queen of Outworld."

"Oh, I am sorry." He spoke sincerely and I simply shook my head to dismiss his apology, despite being grateful towards his empathy.

"It's fine, Syzoth. I am truly proud of my sister's accomplishments. I just wasn't meant to be a ruler." I gave him a faint smile to mask my hidden sorrow but it was plainly clear that he could see right through it. He had only known me for an hour and he could somehow see through the cracks of my porcelain mask of lies better than my family could. How funny is that?

He stared at me as if he was examining my features for a moment, before speaking in the softest tone I had ever heard spoken, "Well, you could be the queen of my heart instead?"

Coincidentally with his words, I felt my heart stop for a second as they sunk into my mind. My thoughts were racing around my mind at such fast speeds, that I began to feel dizzy and lightheaded.

'There is absolutely no way he just suggested— No, it's not possible— Or is it? Even if it was, there would be no way we could— By the Elder Gods, my sisters would never allow it!'

But just as I parted my lips to speak my refusal, my eyes set upon his hopeful gaze. There sat before me a man who saw my worth — who wanted to love me the way I deserved to be loved; how could I deny that?

"Syzoth," I spoke in the most soft and calm tone I could muster. I took the man's large hands within my own and smiled up at him in a loving way. "I would be honored to be the queen of your heart."

His smile broadened as his fingers clasped around my hands to hold them tight as he locked his warm gaze with my own. "Together, we will no longer be alone."

We both leaned forward and his soft lips finally collided with mine in a kiss that I had not only been waiting for for the past hour, but my whole life. It was as if color had finally been restored into my grey existence and — for the first time ever — I knew something that was finally set in stone — I knew that I would no longer be alone.

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[kaisfruit]

Hi! how's your day going?

I'd like to request the ninja from Ninjago and an older sibling reader if that alright? You know just cute fluffy days with siblings.

Ninjago Older Sibling!Reader Headcanons <3

A/N; Ahhh hi!!! my day is good ty <3 tysm for this ask this is so cute 🥺🥺 i hope u dont mind hcs, but if u do feel free to ask again and i'll gladly make smthn longer :] jus thought hcs fit the vibe

warnings; none! just fluff <3

Kai and Nya

Absolutely the most chaotic sibling trio

Nya constantly getting upset with you and Kai for playing the "i'm the older sibling" card

Nya: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU GUYS DIDN'T SAVE A PIECE FOR ME?

You and Kai: older siblings get cake first that's just the rule. sorry <33

But Kai gets just as upset as she does when you do it to him

You guys all love each other though so it's okay

Just the vibes of being their older sibling would be the most competitive basic sibling rivalry type stuff yk

Lloyd

Constantly doting over him

You might as well be his parental figure since MISAKO AND GARMADON WERE THE WORSTTTTT

You and Kai take turns mother henning him

You and Kai are bffs btw like. I don't make the rules. Kai is just his adoptive older brother in my head, so you two bond over caring for Lloyd

Definitely his comfort person after a long day <3

You're the one Lloyd trusts the most in his life and he isn't scared to tell you his fears because, despite any assumed sibling teasing, he knows you'll take him seriously on that regard

Jay

You guys make annoying each other a full time job

Constantly fighting over who the favorite is

Y/N: At least I help out at the junkyard!!

Jay: I'm literally out saving the world everyday!!!

*aggressive slap fight ensues*

OMG no. he's definitely the younger sibling to pull the rapid fire kick tactic

His elemental abilities go out the window when y'all fight. Just straight up, falls on his back and starts kicking up at you

All fun n games until you're able to catch one of his legs

You totally embarrass him as much as you can in front of Nya too

As Jay's older sibling, you're legally obligated to be Cole's bestie since Cole is Jay's bestie. you guys lovingly torment the lightning user together <33

Cole

The most chill sibling duo to ever exist

you both didn't appreciate Lou's insistence of the singing and dancing shit so y'all just decided to be ride or dies for life

much like cole, you get along so well with the rest of the ninja

idrk what to say here

nvm i do

You guys play video games with each other and you are infinitely salty at the fact that your younger brother is better than you at most video games

like wtf? isn't it supposed to be a god given right for all older siblings to be better at video games???? the FSM screwed you!!!

but you've never let him live down the one time he lost to you at super smash bros

you have refused to play with him since

Zane

See, idk if you'd be his ACTUAL sibling yk since he's a robot? maybe more like you were supposed to be a protege to dr. julien, but decided to just be a 4 lyfer with zane after his passing

you've helped zane understand human culture so much and he's real appreciative of your existence

the ninja absolutely fucking ADORE when you're around because what's better than one zane? TWO ZANES !!!

well, obviously you're your own person but! i could see zane adopting a lot of your mannerisms so you two end up being very similar

quality time is y'alls bread and butter

working around each other perfectly as y'all both cook in the kitchen

words never need to be shared between the two of you. just hanging around the other is enough yk? like y'all are bonding just by existing near each other and it is magical

ANOTHER A/N; i tried my best to highlight reader being the older sibling but </3 idk if i did it that well. i saw "sibling fluff" and RAN!! im willing to do a pt 2 or like a one shot or anything with a prompt similar to this !! im the youngest sibling myself tho so idk if i can properly portray being an older sibling (only in a mean light. yk like greg heffley and rodrick. do NOT recommend having older siblings y'all /j)

[heartilywrites]

⠀⠀ ،، 𝓖ive in to Me; Korra

request guide | masterlist

resume: where you are stubborn and Korra is tired of that.

content warning: fight descriptions, firebender!reader, one minor death description, a small fight, established romantic relationship between Korra and the reader, gn!reader, no use of y/n.

word count: 1.4k

a/n: HI im here to contribute to the cause: not enough Korra fics out there. I got this os idea out of the air, if anyone has any request to make more fics of Korra, or any other character of this universe ehem, let me know ;D I just came back from a writer's block!

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “ 𝓘'm sorry, is this OUR stab wound.ᐣ ”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ With one hand trying to put pressure in a red spot to stop the blood while the other was throwing fire attacks in a desperate manner, you were helping the Krew to fight a group of bandits trying to terrorize a village. One of them was a metalbender who got you off guard and made a deep cut on your left side.

Sweat was dripping down your face, it was notorious how your breathing became irregular by the way your chest was moving and your arm use to bend was starting to ache.

You were tired already and your opponent seemed to notice that, at one point you needed to buy some time to breathe so you decided to make a maximum effort and put your last reservation of energy in taking him out.

You made him back a couple of steps when throwing kicks and fire and at the second you realized he got disoriented, a lightning was shot at him by you. The only sound after the rumble of said element was his body impacting with the floor and your heavy breathing while both hands took place on your knees, trying to calm yourself down.

The voice of the avatar made an echo behind you, she was yelling your name looking for you once everyone was defeated.

You were quick to take a piece of fabric and tie your abdominal area to stop the bleeding; it wasn't that bad of a injury, you thought to yourself, it will heal quickly.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “There you are!” The southerner exclaimed when she got eyes on your figure, you were fixing up your hair. “I heard the lightning, are you okay?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Course,” you move a little bit to show the body of your opponent, Korra raised her eyebrows. “He's going to be fine. . . I think, don't worry 'bout him!” your hand was fast to reach hers and make her walk beside you. “Are we leaving?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Yeah, everyone is on the ship already, you got the farthest.” she said, her brows frown a little bit at the sensation of liquid in the hand she was holding yours. The avatar took away that hand and look at it. “You're bleeding!?” she asked horrified and looked up at you.

You were serene at the situation, you dismissed the seriousness of the injury moving your hand. “It's nothing, Korra, it was a superficial cut, I'll be fine.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Are you sure? Let me see—” she tried to reach you to look for said cut and you moved away way too quick that made you groan with pain.

The adrenaline was washing away leaving you with a sore body and a stinging pain on the side. Your girlfriend frowned again. “I'm okay! Stop worrying about me! I know how to take care of myself, thank you very much.” you tried to defend yourself, left hand was stretched out to stop her from coming nearer.

The brunette was silent for a bit, she knew how hot-headed you could be when about your problems it was. “But you're not alone anymore! You have me and if you are hurt I want to know so I can help you.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I don’t need your help, I can handle this!” you exclaimed making your way in the airship, interrupting a 'want some fruit pies?' coming from Bolin who only stood there afterwards watching you walk away to rest and turning back at Korra.

The whole team was on silence after the scene, three of them looking confused while Korra looked annoyed.

The rest of the trip back to Air Temple Island you were sleeping without interruptions, that was more than you ever did, your girlfriend took that as a sign of tiredness after the fight and you using the lightning to defend yourself.

Even if you were a pretty skilled lightning bender, it wasn't a bending you used on your daily basis so she didn't know if the use of that defense mechanism was tiring for you or not. In fact, she didn't know much about how you reacted to injuries or problems since you were so reserved with anyone about your weak spots, living in a conservative family where you were taught that any emotion besides courage was a weak and useless emotion that people could use against you.

And Korra knew about that when she met you in a tournament of pro–bending, there's where she fell in love with you.

The avatar tried so hard to break your shell so you could opened up to her and trust in her with everything you did or felt, no success at all it seemed.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Honey, we're here.” you heard the voice of your girlfriend, your body moved a bit with a groan of pain and your eyes opened lazy, feeling your eyelids still heavy. “Let's go, you can sleep better in your room.”

A bit slow, you were able to stand up from your sleeping spot. Your eyes were trying to focus on the brunette, blinking a lot when you saw blurry. “Where. . .?” you were able to say hoarsely.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Air temple island, you slept the whole night.” she said giggling a little bit, acting as if the fight before you slept didn't happen. She felt the nuisance in her, but thought maybe it was better to talk it once you were fully well rested.

You nodded and stood up. Black spots started to appear in your visual field and a sensation of dizziness invaded your body; when trying to take a step you stumbled and if Korra wasn't fast enough you could've hit the floor. “I'm okay. . . I. . .”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Oh, no, you are definitely not okay.” she said with a mix of worry and anger in her voice. With so easiness (you really didn't had the strenght to fight her off) she found your cut and her eyes shot open when she saw how deep it was and how soaked your whole side was, your clothes being a tone darker than the fabric usually was. “What the fuck!? You're bleeding out! This is a big cut!”

Your words tangled in your tongue, not making a coherent sentence while trying to stay awake. The southerner was quick to take you in her arms bridal style and almost run inside the temple, asking for help.

Korra was in charge of healing you, once she got access to water her hands moved automatically over your injury. The first contact got a scream out of you and then, you relaxed.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You'll be fine, it's okay, darling, you'll be fine.” she said to you, now that there was better light she could see how pale you got overnight. Her teeth got her own inferior lip, nervous about the whole thing. “I'm sorry, I should've insisted last night, you wouldn't have lost so much blood.”

A shush came from your mouth, smiling weak afterwards. “It's not your fault. . . I'm the one who's sorry, I shouldn't be so proud. . .” you frown raised a bit. “I know I should communicate more to you if I want this to work out.” the way you spoke hoarsely made Korra shake a bit.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “We'll work on that,” was her response. Once she made sure you were all good, she moved now to help you get all bandaged up to let the cut heal completely. “Together, as we have been doing all this time.” she murmured.

When she was done, she sat at the bed where you were lying and smiled fondly your way. Korra loved you. She loved you so dearly and it was reciprocate, the love both of you felt for the other was so strong to the point of wanting to change for the better, to be the better version of each other that could exist.

The avatar leaned on you to leave a sweet kiss on your lips, caressing your cheek with devotion, you tried not to smile with excitement at the thought of her love being yours and yours only.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You know what this also means?” she said interrupting your thoughts after pulling away a little bit to speak to you on whispers, you made a sound of question. “You will have me all on you to take care of you and give you the best pampering sessions.”

You laugh with happiness at the thought of that, another groan left your lips followed by 'stop, you're hurting yourself!' that made you laugh with Korra again. She was careful to lie next to you and take you in arms to take a nap together. Neither of you were slow to get yourselves lost in dreams a minute later.

[pinkandlilacroses]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Angel - Paige bueckers

part 1

• summary {when an unsuspecting girl falls for the basketball star}

•warnings {none (for now)}

•comment if you would like to be added to the taglist

bellas pov

“Im just saying, a rom com romance would be fantastic tight now” I state to my best friend, Avery. “i mean everyday is the same thing over and over” i continue. I can tell she doesn’t care, Avery’s been in a relationship with her high school sweetheart, Jake since freshman year.

“you need to stop being desperate” she says scooting closer to me on our couch.

this may sound rude, but thats just how Avery is, ane i guess ive gotten used to it

“nobody understands me” i say dramatically as i get up and walk towards my room.

“remember, we are going out tonight” Avery yells

fuck. i forgot.

i hate going out, theres to many people

i feel like sometimes Avery relyes on me, i mean sometimes i wanna hang out with other people, not just her. Avery on the other hand, im her only friend and i understand why, i love her but she is so mean to any and everyone that she comes across.

a few hours pass and i begin getting ready. i put on a matching pink set with a tube top and a mini skirt, i feel cute, i cant wait for this to get ruined by a bunch of drunk, sweaty college students.

i know i take a while to get ready, i mean its taken me two hours to pick my outfit and do my hair and i haven’t even started my makeup yet. my excuse is that you can never rush perfection.

“bella cmon we gotta go” Avery yells, ‘how is she ready so early’ i think to myself, finishing my coat of mascara.

“ok, ok, im ready” i say 20 minutes later. i can tell shes pissed, but it doesn’t bother me.

“your so dramatic, its a 5 minute walk” Avery says, annoyed, as always.

“i am not made for walking”

its only been 5 minutes since our arrival and i want to leave

“hey baby” a clearly drunk guy says, while he slyly brings his hand to my bare waist.

“who are you” i say, bluntly

“hey loosen up princess” he says, getting closer

i do like that nickname. but i hate him.

“im gonna go now”

i dont know if im straight, to be honest. i was raised in a household where anything but straight was a sin, so i never really questioned my interests. but whenever i see a girl who is tall and strong, my straightness goes out the window, and i feel like im sinning. ive never done anything with a girl before and im scared, i dont know if i ever would.

i walk away from the drunk man and towards the bar

“oh my god im so sorry” ‘fuck. why am i so clumsy’, i say to the girl i bumped into

“nah your all good” she says, looking down at me

i hadn’t looked at her, but now that i am. i never wanna stop. shes tall and blonde.

“hi, im paige” she says, breaking my admiration.

“im bella” i say, shamelessly checking her out

she has on grey sweatpants and a black tshirt. hot.

“do you go here” she says, continuing the conversation.

“uh, yeah, im a junior” i say, stuttering. why am i stuttering

“are you nervous?” she says, bringing her face closer to my own. yes, i am so nervous, you make me so nervous, ohmygodohmygodohmygod

“no” i say, unconvincingly.

“you sure?” she questions again. im not ok

“your on the basketball team, right?” i say, attempting to shift the conversation

she chuckles

“yeah” she states, moving back to her original position, further away from me. come back

“have you heard of me” she says, cockily

“i think everyone has here” i say, to be honest, i dont know anything about basketball. but ive heard of her before and her eyes have me trapped, there so blue and inviting.

what am i saying

“i wanna know more about you though” she whispers, moving closer than before.

“what do you wanna know” i say wrapping my arms around her neck. i dont know where all this confidence has came from

“yo paige” some girl says, she turns around and breaks the position we were in.

“iceee” she says, dapping up her teammate

im offended.

i make my way from her and towards my friend group. i want to go home

“was that you flirting with paige bueckers”

“we were just talking, shes not interested”

“girl, paige would be interested in a tree if it had a pussy, she is definitely interested” chanel says

everyone laughs. but me

im confused, why am i attracted to her, i like men, not women.

“bella cmon, lets get you home” Avery says, i mentally thank her from saving me from this conversation.

i tuck myself into bed after taking my outfit and makeup off and get ready for my favourite activity. sleep, until.

xxx-xxx-xxx

- hey is this bella?

what the fuck. do i have a stalker

bella

- yes

xxx-xxx-xxx

- hahah thank god

- this is paige

what the fuck

A/N - first fic, how do we feeeelllllllll

[hobiespick]

Heya! I was wondering if you got any headcanons for Sam Winchester x werewolf! Reader, except, reader can actually turn whenever she (or gn if you want) wants, and the only real thing a full moon does is force her to be in her werewolf form (aka force her to keep the wolf teeth and claws out for no reason)

The thing that should not be

Pairings : Sam Winchester x reader

a/n : FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HI, HELLO, IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG I SUCK SO BAD, IM SO SORRY. My requests aren't open (yet) but its not even your fault I should have 100% specified that, but this is my first ever ask and ur also one of my favourite moots and I didn't want to dissapoint so here are some fuckinf cute Sam x Werewolf!Reader. I felt the carnal need to write a metric fuckton of context before getting into the actual headcanons (which are very long I have no idea if they can be considered as hcs) so the reader gets beaten up by earth-shattering plot purposes :3. Sammy juicy headcanons start when you see the '🧿' emoji if you don't wanna read the context (melodramatic sigh). And yes the title of the fic is based on the metallica song :). as always, enjoy my shitty thoughts <3

Warnings: angst with comfort (no don't clap it's fine, omg ur makin me blush); guess who joined the cool kids club and uses "____." instead of "Y/n"; literally a flash of gore, shitty dad(s), fake death, mentions of suicide, Sam looks at you and goes DO YOU WANT M-; Dean being himself; reader is also a hunter and has been raised like that (fml); Dean makes a twillight refrence; reader is frankenstein coded in the most nuanced way, Mary Shelley please don't haunt me; Dean is very happy to have a bestfriend/sister :)

word count: 8,102

- Okay, so for starters, the fact that you aren't actually a monster (you don't get the urge to kill or wreak havoc) is actually a supernatural miracle.

Your parents haven't talked to you since you called them the night you were hunting a werewolf and told them, horror-struck between sniffles and voice cracks, that it bit you, and you’re going to turn, and you’re horrified, and you’re going to drive home to put a pistol in your father's hand and hopefully stop you from turning in the thing you shouldn't be.

Your father replied, after successfully not saying a word besides "Hey, kid-" before getting cut off by you and your hiccups. He sank his teeth into the inside of his cheek, enough to draw blood.

"You are not to come home; your mother won't bear to see you like this."

Your father objected before telling you you can finish the job by yourself; you always have.

He abruptly ended the phonecall like you weren't his daughter, more like an annoying salesman. You don't know what he'll say to your mother after that call; that was the hospital, and you tragically died? "Died a hero.." Your father would say when he described another hunter's tragic passing at the dinner table—paranormal tragic passing. So paranormal that your mother had knocked on wood and prayed it wouldn't get you or your family.

So you don't call, It's really me, dad. I'm fine, I figured it out by myself. How could you? after him suggesting it's better to kill yourself than take a shot at finding a solution together? You would rather have him believe you're dead. Or at least cry with you; it's okay, honey. come home; it'll be okay, spend the last days at home, please-

The last word you get from him is a text message you are too quick to open on your flip-phone to see the next day. When you rub at your eyebags after tracking down a witch, the witch. It was the second day when everything about you felt off; you were squemish, anxious, and haven't left your motel room all day. if you get this—the message read, "if you get this?!" if you get this, if you get this, if you get this—your brain repeats it over and over, taking the words apart and tattooing itself that phrase, because it held much more meaning to it than your father probably didn't intend; he would hear it if he read it before sending, you thought, that little 'if' haunting and tormenting like a damn demon. if you haven't already killed yourself; if you haven't already turned into something that took my daughter, my pride and joy, away from me; if you haven't already died–

- speaking to you like he's directly referring to the disease in your veins. Your brain moves on and reads the next ridiculous waste of your attention. I wanted you to know I told your mother that it was the hospital I was talking to yesterday, calling that you’re dead, house fire, so no remains to pick up—Damn, you know him or what? Even your fake death is stripped away from it's respect—"no remains to pick up"—like a toppled statue, a monument of what was once a hero (in dad's old-fashioned monster-hunting world), shattered and insignificant, no longer breathing or living, if you ever even had. Or a tree struck by lighting, again, "no remains to pick up" no meaningful remains or genuinely nothing, just a memory of another young hunter who died 'tragically'. You could imagine your tombstone with an even dumber epitaph to match it and an empty or nonexistent grave lying six feet underneath for closure. Your eyes move on, there will be a funeral with no grave, of course, I just wanted you to know that your mother and everyone else is devastated, we miss you, sugar. I love you, kid. Your father had overestimated your suicidal tendencies, and the way he didn't try to save his daughter in order to not go against the rules and possibilities of hunting only showed you how much he loves you.

So you track down the witch. You barely make it to her doorstep when she opens it with a too reassuring smile, saying your name and that she expected you, even going as far as offering you tea after opening the door and letting you in, to which you declined. You're not an idiot. But you do sit down, forced, when she, Willow Thorne, won't have you, a guest, standing up, a whole damn hunter being forced to sit down and accept being treated kindly like you deserve. When you walked in, the entire image of a satanic worshipper who sold her soul to demons and hexed everybody—that you betted all your life savings fitted the description of Willow shattered and laughed in your face.

Her home was filled with plants hanging and resting in every corner she could place; various crystals were sitting in cute porcelain plates like candy, candles of different colors on a bookshelf filled with books like The Language of Flowers, Astronomy for Beginners, and Sigils. Even more crystals, bigger and taller ones on a purple tablecloth. The house is adorned in shades of dark purple, violet, green, and warm colors. This home was a whimsigothic musem that would send your thirteen-year-old self into a shrieking, excited mess. Your parents never let you own crystals or a tarot deck; they were too afraid you'd turn darkside one way or another. well, mommy, daddy, if you could see me right now with lycanthrope blood pumping through my veins.

Willow Thorne is a wiccan type of witch; she does not receive her power from demons; she receives her magic from nature and probably practices her witchcraft the way she sees fit. This doesn't help build back the distrust you were trained to have in her. You flinch when you feel a tail curling around your bouncing leg; you glance down, and your eyes are met with a black cat's green ones—this must be her familiar—the little words on his purple collar reading 'Creek'. She gives you another flash of her warm smile and starts talking about her cat. This can't be real. Your every instinct screams that you should take her down or that she will take you down. Your options shrink the longer you stay. You keep a hand anxiously fiddling with your belt, thinking about the gun in your waistband. She's deceiving you with honeyed words and unassuming appearance; who the fuck knows, maybe the cat is manipulating you too. Throwing up would be the calmest reaction you could have right now, because the thoughts in your head started going at each other's throats and doubting in this situation could get you killed. Thoughts like, fuck her, her cozy house with purple witchy twitchy girl interior, and her affectionate black cat she mentioned she rescued when nobody would because of superstitions—you curse in your head, you're not actually upset at her although you do not let your guard down, you're upset at yourself for being so easily coaxed into trusting her, it's all too easy, and it is intimidating you.

You're pretty sure you're gonna rip your vocal cords out of frustration and an overall feeling of overwhelmingness; everything seems to piss you off today, even more than usual. How are you good?! All bright and beaming with nothing but positivity. You're not supposed to be good! I have believed all my life you aren't!..are you like me too? A thing that should not be? Before breaking down and crying about your situation, and if you did, she would make you that tea and rub your back with her hand that radiated ease and made you slump your shoulders with relief.

Before you get other fun thoughts like Am I on the wrong side of the war? You start discussing bussiness since you forgot that's what your here for. Even if your eyes water like a little kid after being scolded for something they didn't do, your voice is nowhere near close to sounding like one. You demand a cure, bargaining for a deal to stop the lycanthropy metamorphosis you feel taking over little by little and make you human again. If she can't, you have a gun with silver bullets in your trunk and your will written out, but by now it probably has no significance.

Much to your disappointment, she—Willow—insisted you called her, tells you she cannot take away your curse, but she can soothe it a little, keep it in a cage locked deep into your subconscious. In exchange, she could ask for fucking anything in the world, but she wants loyalty.

"Define, loyalty." You ask through gritted teeth, yeah, that will stop the tears, definitely, great intimidation skills, _____ .

"I'm talking about respect, mutual aid, when it all comes down for me, when I get threatened by a hunter, I want you to be there. I need you to have my back." She admitted, studying your eyes trying to reslove the conflict in them, anything that could give her hope. You couldn't explain this to anyone, ever, Yeah I almost turned into a werewolf once but my witch friend did a ritual on me, so i'm all good now.

Willow is now sitting on an ottoman facing her couch, where you're sitting. Her hands fidget with her bracelets until she clasps them together, and she is leaning towards you. Her gentle tone is imbued with gentle authority that commands her mutual respect without making her overbearing. Keeping steady eye contact, she is discussing serious matters with a serious tone like she should. You can't lie, it catches you off-guard, it herds you in the corner and softly shakes your shoulders, forcing you to listen.

You'd be every synonym in the dictionary for the word 'idiot' if you hadn't accepted this deal. You shake hands, and the warm smile she wears causes a domino effect, making you do the same, even if you had been crying.

It's a funky ritual. She makes you lay on the couch while she lights all sorts of candles; she closes the curtains even though it's already dark so light cannot come in. The only light present is the salt lamp in the far corner and the numeruous lighted candles. She even has to kick Creek out of the room, much to the cat's protests outside the door. They slowly come to a stop as he finds something that's more interesting than whatever ritual his owner is cooking up with a guest—that he feels drawn to for whatever reason. You feel nervous, and she feels nervous too, because you are. Willow reassures you and tells you that after it ends you will pass out for a while, but that's fine because she says you can spend the night if she isn't pushing it.

The celling becomes your newest fascination, and you study every small bump and gray spot in order to distract your mind from... well, thinking. Not for the ritual, but for reassurance, she lies and says you have to hold her hand. Her warm hand against yours seems to punch out of your lungs every doubt whether this will work or not and the sadness your father produced with an unfatherly amount of bluntness and cold parenting that was the verbal equivalent of stabbing your spine and twisting the knife, but you can't pull out the knife, well, you can try, but it will hurt even worse and it will infect spreading yellow or purple marks around it–. She—her hand—has the ability to make you breathe again without feeling like you have leg irons around your neck dragging it down and hands squashing your lungs to bits. She speaks incantations in what you know is latin and instructs you to close your eyes. You swear you hear a candle stop burning in the process—something you can't physically hear, but you had. You can make out a few words (your ears keep ringing and something is happening because you hear her voice; it's distorted and weird, but she told you, strictly, not to open your eyes, so you don't). Words like: lupus-wolf, tollere-take away? You're not sure on that one; that's what three straight days of crying might do to one, mutare- which means change. Okay, that was a nice distraction now what el–

You feel the imprint of a huge dog-like paw pressing into your Adam's apple and cutting off your breath. She obviously takes notice by the way you're writhing and choking and swatting away at nothing—something you're trying to fight even with closed eyes, but there is nothing there. Your palm doesn't make contact with anything. Quickly, Willow chants something you're too busy choking to catch. The pressure on your throat dissolves, and you can breathe again. She calms her own breath and squeezes your hand. When she doesn't feel you squeeze back, she remembers that you're supposed to pass out after the spell. Willow drapes a blanket on you and goes off to order something to eat. When she opens the living room door, Creek doesn't hesitate to run in and settle on your chest. The cat purrs as he patiently waits for you to wake up.

You wake up fifteen minutes later with the smell of food flooding your nostrils, stronger than it has ever been before. It's almost like it's sitting right under your nose. You open your eyes, and the smell has a color, and you can clearly see how it snakes its way in from the kitchen into the half-open door. Your nails feel heavier than usual. This is hopefully a fever dream. But the food isn't here, nor is Willow; you can hear her humming a song in the kitchen, Voodoo Chile by Jimi Hendrix.

The weight of the shadow on your chest brings you back to earth, and you run your hands through his black fur with closed eyes as your head falls back onto the couch. The feeling of fur on your fingertips feeding to your serotonin levels rising. Creek seems to know what it's like to be disowned by your own father and forced to have a fake death in order to 'die' in a way that won't make your mother think you were cursed, or worse, that the whole family is now. Creek notices you're awake and gets off you, but not before making biscuits.

"Thanks, Creek." You mumble before pushing yourself up in a sitting position with a groan.

You can feel the rich, velvety, dark green rug beneath your socks; you would have appreciated it properly if you could actually see the details woven into it. Your eyes keep focusing and unfocusing like they're getting adjusted, and the room doesn't seem so dark anymore. God, how long did you pass out? As you tried to gather your thoughts (if the spell was easy on you enough to actually leave some), memories of the ritual came flooding back—the chanting in latin, the flickering candle(s), the punching smell of herbs, the murder attempt from a wolf spirit/ghost?! who the hell knows anymore? Now you were wide awake, and everything felt different. If it weren't for the fucking ritual that was just performed on you, you would've blamed the faint ringing in your years, shitty eyesight, and banging headache on a terrible hangover or a cold so bad it would make your throat ache for the tea your mom would make you when your immune system failed you. She promised she would teach me how to make it. Your grief echoed to you.

You rub at your temples at thats when you notice why did your nails feel heavier than usual. You had fucking claws, well, not animal claws, but they are honorably elongated and sharper than they had ever been. As you looked up from your lap, your eyes fell on a mirror.

A tall mirror leaning on its back legs, with black edges and details on the rim, you would again appreciate if you had the ability to see a single thing in the distance.

Your eyes widened, mortified, seeing yourself. It looked like one of your parents's worst nightmares. Something out of a dream your mom would have—a nightmare so nasty and vivid she would be forced by her paranoia to get up and check that you're still in bed sleeping soundly.

Your eyes were no longer the familiar color you have seen in the mirror or in old photos of your family members you've grown to love. The shade wasn't even close to yours; crazy how one small change made such a big difference in your appearance. Your pupils were slitted vertically, shrinking only to dilate a little once again, getting adjusted. You slowly got up on foal legs and fell on your knees in front of the mirror. Even if you didn't think it was night because you weren't seeing darkness, the light of the moon shone down on the mirror and floor thanks to the now open curtains. That's when your vision stopped unfocusing and finally cleared.

You were now looking at yourself. It felt incredibly alien and familiar at the same time; you looked at yourself every day, whether it was the mirror in your bathroom at home, a crappy motel one that faced the bed (which you cover up with a scoff each time), or a reflection in the car of your vanity mirror checking yourself before going in a precinct, pretending to be a reporter (the things middle-aged pigs would confess to a doe-eyed girl from the press..).

You gently pulled the corner of your upper lip only to reveal your enlarged and sharpened front canines. Your hand fell and instead went to cover your mouth in order to muffle your sobs. You must have done a horrible job because the second you slapped the hand over your mouth, you heard Willlow gasp as if she felt it too.

She drops the food she was unpacking and runs in, taking a moment to calm her heaving chest in the doorway; her hands were holding it like an earthquake had shaked her up; even her round glasses had slipped and rested on the tip of her nose.

"_______, you woke up!" she exclaims cheerfully. "I was just—how do you fee-?"

She kept stuttering and cutting herself off. Willow didn't need to say anything else; she saw the tears welling up in your eyes and felt the same shock you did from the kitchen.

🧿🧿🧿- later on, you have to bump into the Winchesters one way or another

- and it's exactly on a full moon when this time the ball isn't in your court and you don't get to decide whether you turn or not.

- your claws are sharp, your eyes have changed their original color completely with your pupils vertically slit, and your teeth (conveniently) remain the same; only a few of your front canines are enlarged and sharpened.

- as for senses, it's downright spectacular.

- you can hear deer stepping on tree branches, foxes running, and owls hooting when you're driving by the forest

- you smell how many people are in a room

- you have night vision (yes, your eyes to the flashy thingamajiggy when someone blinds you with their flashlight).

- as a hunter, you already know that your claws and fangs can rip out a human heart.

- ironically, as this whole situation is, you hunt alone on the principle that you don't long for companionship as some lycanthropes do.

- you've turned into a literal killing machine with no instinct to kill, so hunting with others is off the table since at the first sign of a threat (they think you are one, but you really aren't), a hunter exterminates.

- you meet the Winchesters on a ghoul hunt

- you have taken the case before them, but when you couldn't get anywhere with identifying whatever evil being was tormenting the locals with their mere presence, you thought about ditching it since it doesn't look like your type of thing and took the consideration that maybe humans were fucking around this time.

- so when you heard the FBI are in town investigating the case (detective Page and Plant), you placed that town in your rear view mirror; they got it covered..right?

- but something didn't feel right- it wasn't the shame of leaving a case with your tail between your legs (pun intended) with the weak motive, 'Maybe humans are really fucking around this time.'

- something wasn't right, so even if you were tired, you abruptly stopped the car and went over your research spread out on the flat of your closed trunk

- the slits of your eyes dance over the words on your laptop, your papers, and an old lore book you fought tooth and nail for. When you realized it's a ghoul you're dealing with, you turned the car around and went over every speed limit like hellhounds were scratching at your tires. It was your job to not let anybody else get hurt or someone else's grave be violated

- as the light of the moon shined down on you and your wild eyes looked back at you from the rear view mirror, you knew you couldn't have anyone see you, you had to be invisible

- *time skip* (as much as it pains me 'cause i am a sucker for details :))- you swoop in time to save the Winchesters

- and if they weren't tied up, they would've started fighting you too, because why was there a whole ass werewolf fist fighting a ghoul?? John trained them like Spartan warriors, but nothing prepared them for something like this.

- so they sit there like:??????

- they watch you take out a fucking ghoul all by yourself

- the head of the ghoul's person they're impersonating rolls onto the floor. You have to remind yourself it's not a real person; it's an evil spirit who kills to feed

- by the time you wipe the blood off your face, smearing it a bit in the process, and cut the ties holding the hunters loose, Sam is unnable to look away from your slit eyes adorned by a strange color that strangely suits you

- literally hearts in his fawn brown eyes like you still don't have blood on your face and you aren't trying to catch your breath; also, you took a nasty punch to your cheek, and he's pretty sure it's gonna leave a bruise, but he totally doesn't care, why? why do you ask?

- by the way Sam is scrunitizing you, and oh yeah, Sam is scrunitizing you, you're sure you're gonna have to ditch since you've been in this situation before and you know how it always ends

- there was no 'explaining yourself' to hunters when they saw you under the full moon or when they saw you change because you had to.

Before you can even open your mouth they have their methaphorical pitchforks sharpened and torches lit up, prepared to slaughter you, and if you're honest, you can't even blame them for it because you would've done the same.

- Dean rubs his wrist with his right hand; the imprint of the rope is still fresh on his skin like a tattoo. Sam focuses on not choking when you catch him staring.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean thinks out loud. You take a big lungs-exploding sigh and give a shot at introducing yourself since they seem more civilized than most hunters are

- Sam geeks out about you

He doesn't question you because he is suspicious (he has the right to be but surprisingly isn't). He has to feed his noisy, information-hungry brain or he will spontaneously combust

- "Are your senses even more enhanced during the full moon, or are they the same?"

- "Can you smell when somebody is afraid? Like the hormones from their pores?"

- "Is it annoying to always have super hearing? Like has it ever caused you to be..I don't know.. Anxious? It did?" He mourns over you, trying to imagine himself in your situation but possibly can't.

- "I'm really sorry you had to go through a whole..change all by yourself, but it just shows how strong you are, some don't even make it 'til the end."

- After you were done explaining to Sam (to which he gladly sat himself down and listened) how sometimes you genuinely consider you're inevitably going to become what you hunt and how in the beginning you and your senses have butted heads, how you had no idea how to go through it without having panic attacks because the click of a doorknob was sensitive to your hearing like a veteran was scared of fireworks, how you accidentally ripped a motel door off its hinges, a result of you being slightly irritated, still getting acoustumed to your abilities. Dean would go.

"..Do dog whistles work on y–" Before getting an elbow in the ribs by a glaring Sam.

- more shit Dean would ask you for the sake of his own little curiosity

- "Is 'bitch' even more offensive now?"

- "Who do you think would win in a fight? You or Jacob Black?"

- "What do I smell like? Y'know, since you can pick up on scents and alldat."

- Dean calls you Cujo

- It's the one nickname you can get behind, asking him what he thought about the book, and he's like, "Oh, I watched the movie, but i know a little. Sammy used to rattle on and on about his books when he was younger."

- if you think about it, an alais doesn't sound so bad in theory or practice while hunting.

- it's secretive, the boys don't need to divulge your real name, and it's actually high-key kickass (I literally watched Cujo just so I know what I'm talking about, a.k.a. the second reason why it took a millenium and a half for me to post these; the first reason is that i suck)

- Dean is thrilled to get to call you that- he gets this fucking smirk, like a dad about to drop the worst joke ever made on everyone, you and Sam brace yourselves for what's coming with matching eyerolls-

"Let's fuck em' up, Cujo."

- "Cujo, dude, you're just itching to raise a little hell right now, aren't you?"

- "Uh- a bacon cheeseburger, soda, yo, Cujo whaddya want? My treat >:]."

- "Cujo, put on that song you were listening to; I had it in my head the entire hunt." (I didn't mention the genre or artist bc I like to imagine Dean listening to everyone's fav category; ex. I imagine Dean screaming bikini kill lyrics whenever i'm sad)

- if you thought the 'canine/wolf' teasing stopped here, you're so painfully wrong

- Dean made you a mixtape, because that's his love language apparently, with only songs that are about werewolves

- I feel like it took him a longer time to find a suitable title than the songs themselves

- he has all of the possible picks on a piece of paper that stays in the pocket of his fifty pound leather jacket.

- the titles are: Songs to transform into; The howlin' hits; Songs that will make you wag your tail—that one is crossed out because he knows you will make him eat the tape if he does settle on it; Love at first bite; and finally the one he settled for is Songs you can sink your teeth into. Dean smiled at his work, it didn't feel like a prank anymore it was more like a gift and he didn't feel any ugly emotion or insecurity try to pull him back into not getting attached to you.

The final touch was a note saying

"Hey, Cujo, thought you might want these howlin' hits whenever you need to tune the world out.

P.S. : Sam told me to add one of the songs, it's that punk stuff you like - Dean"

- The songs he prudently picked out are these : Of Wolf and Man by Metallica; Bark at the Moon by Ozzy Osbourne; I Was A Teenage Werewolf by The Cramps; Wolf Moon by Type O Negative; Witch Wolf by STYX; Run with the Wolf by Rainbow; Lycanthropy by G.B.H and others.

- you accidentally made a kid cry once- a ball was literally flying towards you and you caught it just in time, thanks to your reflexes

- instinctively, you turned around in time and caught the ball as your claws grew and sank into the inanimate object

- it's all "Nice relfexes, _____" praise from Dean and proud and shy smiles from Sam until the owner of the ball starts sobbing in front of you

- it's a kid, a boy with red hair, no older than six years of age

- but we all know Dean's charm is basically made for this

- so he handles both the kid and his mom (flirting with a milf all day, poor Dean)

- you keep apologizing to the kid and the mom, but Dean just waves you off; you don't understand his generosity until Sam tells you that you accidentally secured Dean's hookup for tonight.

- Since Dean is not coming, not until early morning, nor is he there to call you and Sam 'dorks', you and his younger brother take advantage of it.

- you guys have a movie night with the most random movies ever

- it is chaotic

- from rom-coms you switch to a world war II documentary, then you watch re-runs of House MD on tv.

- Dean stumbles in at like five something a.m. and takes a picture of you and Sam snuggling under a blanket while the tv light casts shadows of orange and cold colors on your defenseless expressions.

- but can somebody actually blame you? Or Sam, for that matter?

- honorably want to mention your body heat is also enhanced

- You and Sam were sitting with your sides pressed into each other

- you were radiating pure furnace body heat, how could he not be sleepy??

- but that's not the only reason Sam knocks out so heavily

- it's you he's sitting down with (relaxing for once in his life) watching a ridiculous episode of House with thirteen ads rolling every ten minutes accompanied by lazy talking as if you're not debating books only you and morally grey forty-year-olds read (where that Kansas drawl of his is much more audible and pretty), after a marathon of fatally random movies

- younger Sam who had trouble going to sleep/getting some shut-eye because Dean and John are out late on a hunt.

- Sam especially couldn't fall asleep because Dean wasn't there

- it was a different story when Dean was at the age where he couldn't hunt but he could use a pistol and take care of his little brother

- both of them in a relatively warm motel room, alone (since John fucked off to god-knows-where, to hunt a monster they are never to breathe in the direction of as a conversation subject.)

- little Sammy (age where he believed nothing could beat his older brother) could peacefully fall asleep knowing Dean stays up and watches over him like a hawke, reading comic books by the tv light

- where little Dean keeps chanting in his head what Sammy is supposed to do after eating his dinner.

- Watch tv or look at the comic with me (Sammy can't read yet), brush his teeth, then tuck him in bed.

- now pre-teen Sam can hardly sleep

- he is plagued/tormented by flashing images his overthinking big brain mades of a thousand situations where his family got hurt, if not even killed

- Sam's grip on the shotgun is shaking; it shakes even harder when John's bark booms over his shoulder, right into his ear.

- "Sammy, dammit, what are you going to do when a demon breaks through the door and me and your brother aren't there to protect you?!"

- but Sam isn't twelve anymore

- he's a responsible adult

- snuggled beside you and denying any eepy allegations you decide to accuse him of

- so, the heat you contribute, the soft speaking on the tv, the darkness of the room, you being there is enough to lull Sam to sleep

- studies show you feel sleepy around the people you trust ;)

- the position you two fell asleep in cannot be described in any other word than childish

- somehow you would catch two kids, sleeping over at one of the other's houses, knocked out, and snoring in the same bed after watching a horror movie

- on one of the two queens the motel room contributes (the one closest to the tv) you and Sam have made this fluffy nest full of pillows, a huge blanket, plus a random quilt Bobby pulled out of thin air and gave it to you when he heard you complaining about the petal-thin blankets motels have during cold ass weather.

- When you both lied down on the bed with your legs greedily streched out, backs pressed against the headboard, and your head is resting on the wall while Sam, magically, was still able to hold his up after the very long day all of you endured. You predicted one of you wouldn't survive being in each other's presence and make it out not asleep, and god, you hoped it was you.

- Sam's breathing slows down after a while of comfortable silence, and you’re sure he's dying until you spare one quick glance and see him, downright snoozing with his lips parted without a care in the world, ghosts and eerie phenomenons weren't bothering or needing him now.

- during all of the movies and documentary and fuckin lazy intellectual commentary nobody else would have the patience to discuss with you or Sam, he somehow migrated on the bed/nest with his side flush against yours, like a magnet to another; it was inevitable not to stick together, literally.

- your shoulder was now pressed into his forearm, your head no longer resting uncomfortably, and his temple is resting on the top of your head.

- but (unfortunately) you weren't hugging or anything- like a mirror or a copycat, Sam has his arms crossed, just like you, so maybe that's why you didn't wake up full on cuddling, that does sound good though your brain mourns

- When you do wake up, the only slight change you notice is that you're sleeping on your side..so is Sam. You're facing Sam's neck and chin, and up close and personal, you can actually count the too-sexy amount of moles he modestly posesses. His arm serves the role of a pillow underneath his head, and the other is resting with his palm down facing the mattress.

- with Sam taking up the entire attention of your senses, it takes an emmbarassing while for you to hear the shower running, Dean; did he see you both like this? Was he going to mention it? Your gut fills with a small dose of embarrassement, preparing you for what's yet to come, and it protests at that.

- much displeasure from your senses to your brain and your heart that wanted to breathe Sam in more as he (hopefully) breathes you out, you turn on your other side, unconsciously careful not to disturb Clifford over here, and you try to determine what time it is from your surroundings alone.

- the light blue sneaking its way through the dark closed curtains and the slight chill in the air points all arrows to seven or eight in the morning, you could go back to sleep.

- Dean wasn't just feeling gracious; he didn't and wasn't even planning on sparing you or Sam

- that day, when he separately gets the both of you alone, he has the exact same conversation with different but not so different people.

-"You should've seen the two of you this morning when I came in, two kittens snoring together, it was fuckin' adorable." Dean teased–

—Monday, 13:34 p.m. — as he tossed his clothes into one of the laundromat's washing machines, making Sam paralyze in his seat as his fingers started fidgeting with the edges of his hoodie.

"You did?.." He inquires, not knowing what exactly Dean saw just this morning. Sam only woke up a little after you went back to sleep. He swore his cheek must have burned a hole through the pillow with how hard he was blushing. You were so close. There was a good distance between the edge of the bed and you. So your back was flush against his chest. If you're wondering where his arm went, it was around your waist. Sam—your own personal seatbelt. He probably thinks it's his fault too. Dean never ceased to describe Sam as a 'cuddlebug'.

"Uh-huh" Dean hums a confirmation, acting casual, scarily casual. Sam feels the teasing in Dean's tone; it's there, but Dean is not fully teasing yet, like he wants Sam to confess something first after boiling in his embarrassement for long enough.

—Monday, 20:02 p.m. — as he pulled the Impala into the driveway of a fast-food place you were so invested in you even forgot the name of; you froze and looked at him, searching for any emotion that might give him away, but Dean was a brick wall, a slight very Dean siginificant parted lips smirk paired with squinted eyes over the wheel, carefully driving into the driveway. Even the car seemed to betray you in your moment of weakness because you swear the volume is lower than it was a few seconds ago. Ozzy Osbourne's laugh can still be heard from the speakers, even if it's barely audible over your racing thoughts or your hearing trying its hardest to pick up on Dean's thoughts. The rythym of the drums seems to sync up with your heartbeat, or the other way around, you're not sure. Over every little sound, there still seems to be a little silence to fit in. You swallow a lump in your throat.

"..We had a movie night, we just fell asleep like that, that's all." You mumble, and Dean starts to feel a little bad for letting you be a victim to his spotlight-teasing and giving you no shade to reprieve to or show his undying approval.

Somehow, you still worry if Dean believes you have ruined the dynamic, and now he's cornering you to tell you to stop it or something (overthinking anxiety worms are eating away at your critical thinking skills). You just worry about what he thinks of this. You still worry about the Dean who doesn't correct random people on cases who mistake you and Sam for a couple; the Dean who just has to leave some arsenal or luggage in the front, just so you are forced to share the backseat with Sam; the Dean who always has to group you and Sam in a category when he teases you both (Geeks, nerds, smartasses, etc.). Cupid works hard, but Dean Winchester works harder.

"Hey-, Cuj- Doll." Dean sputters, switching glances between you and the wheel.

This didn't go as he planned it would, and now he is facing the consequences. The way you shrink in your seat and the way you avoid catching his eye makes Dean feel like a douchebag. If he didn't know any better he would thinks he is, but then you would actually be able to read him like a book and tell him otherwise. You hear the desperation in his voice; your candle of hope comes back to life and lights up. Your head turns to look at him with pleading eyes. Please don't be angry, please don't kick me to the curb, let me stay in the backseat a little more. Dean lets out a shaky exhale that turns into a laugh; he runs a hand down his face. You've watched him do that every time he got jumpscared by the monthly spirit with unfinished business. It was something you imagined Dean picked up from John, the picture in your head so clear (at least from the pictures you saw)— a tired dad in an old squeaky motel chair with a whiskey glass in his hand doing the same motion Dean was doing right now. Dean would mimic his father's gestures to try to look more like him; he didn't have his brunette curly hair, his dark brown eyes, Sam did.

Dean never had his voice either; he only perfected his bark to match his dad's. Sam hated the way his reflection resembled his father, Dean was either jealous of him for it or couldn't wrap his head around as to why his brother hated being their dad, probably the latter. Dad, at least in Dean's eyes, was a hero, a figure to be admired and emulated. But Sam? He didn't even have to try. Sam and John were so alike that they clashed constantly like two stubborn stags locking antlers in a duel.

"..Dean?" You call him out; you had no idea what was going on in his head; it would be pretty damn nice if you could know. Dean shots his head up at the mention of his name.

"Yeah?—sorry, I just, you and Sam are just so—" He sighs. "it's about time you two crazy kids broke that touch barrier." He guffaws, slowly pulling up to the ordering kiosk.

A new song starts playing on Dean's "hot summa' nights driving" mixtape, Emmit Remmus by The Red Hot Chili Peppers, he added it when Sam said that's one of his favorites.

- do I need to talk about how much of an immense help you have been on hunts?

- you don't need to help out on every hunt despite Sam's disappointment and Dean's kid-like joy to have their friend help them out who is a professional/werewolf/hunter/geek, who kind of gets his references?? But you are geniunely so good it's funny to have the boys call you up and be like "..so we need help". They're happy you'll show up but there is still that lick of shame that taunts the Winchesters whenever they are forced to call for aid.

- this one time, you wanted to hug them after not seeing them for two weeks, and when you went to attack Sam, you heard his bones crack.

- your strength still surprises you and knocks other people off their feet

- it was so loud (atleast for you), you were sure you broke something

- Sam did nothing but give you his (killer) dimply smile and reassure you didn't do anything (even if he slightly grunted); while Dean whined like a kid saying (lying) he doesn't want a hug (you coaxed him into it eventually)

- Sam feels like he's not allowed to call you by your nickname, like he fears it's Dean's thing and not his

- so when he finally puts on his big boy pants, he's like, "Uhh–Cujo- 🧍‍♂️so get this.."

- all red and shy, trying to act casual, as if he doesn't wonder about the reaction you might have if he calls you other nicknames, like honey, sweetheart, even baby, or if he had the excuse to hold your hand, how would you hold it? Fingers interlocked or palms flat?

- Sam would also love to just marvel at your slit eyes; if he could he would take a picture and put it in his wallet; don't get me wrong if he had one where you were normal, he would cherish it just as much.

- Sam thinks your nickname is actually really cool (probably because it's a Stephen King reference, nerd), and you take that as a compliment. Sam is hard to entertain or please by his brother's antics.

- But he prefers saying your name

- there's something so intimate about the syllables rolling off his tongue so easily

- "_____, Are you okay? What is it? The soundproof earmuffs? I'll go get them." When everything, and I mean when every sound is just too much.

- Sam got them for you; he couldn't handle seeing you wince one more time whenever a car with a bad engine would pass by the motel (during a stressful hunt); its tires squealing under the concrete, making a faint sound for the boys, but for you so much louder.

- you know how pathethic it is to be affected by such small things when you're blessed with such powers? How can you call yourself a hunter when decibels, frequencies, and fucking tire squeals make you their bitch? You wish you could train yourself in a way that would make you less sensitive to certain sounds. It just adds to the reasons why hunters have the excuse or classify you as "the frail one" not only because you're a girl. When you used to hunt with your dad and sometimes mom, the amount of dog-shit comments from other hunters who had sons, were nothing but mysogynistic, curlish, and ruthless. "Are you sure the riffle isn't too heavy?", "Does she even know how to kill this thing?", "She's going to drag us down, do you want us to die?"— the type of comments that would make your dad shoot daggers into them, defend you "She's a goddamn ______, what do you think?", and whisper into your ear "Show em' what you're made of." and you would (stubbornly) listen to his advice to the damn letter after you almost mouthed them off.

Your dad believed in "Actions are sometimes louder than words." and all that adult crap, you were not as zen.

Your mom actually encouraged the sarcasm you have replied with in the past. The funniest memory your mother can recall is a story she tells at every gathering and every chance she gets to everyone, she praised you like crazy. When another hunter's son had the nerve to fuck with a twelve-year-old you. "Aren't you afraid of breaking a nail out there?" The boy sneered, puffing out his chest like a peacock. You stared at him with pure disbelief. "The only way I'm breaking a nail tonight is by kicking your ass, you cocky brainless jerk." You spat back, your mother and father were there and so was the boy's father; the gravity of the situation was on your shoulders, and their stares felt even heavier in comparison; intimidating him was 100% on the table. You felt like everyone had the same exact thought occuring them, an unspoken demand passed everyone there, even you: Do something. And you did. Your mother's jaw went slack; she doubled over, gripping whatever surface was near her and she started to chortle, with her shoulders shaking like never before. Your father was holding in a chuckle while massaging the bridge of his nose.

- Sam has to disagree with you whenever you complain about how your senses make you look or about the way you underestimate yourself. "What?! You can't be serious. _____, It doesn't mean you're weak. In fact, it makes you even more interesting. Everyone has an Achilles heel; yours is stronger because you're an amazing hunter who figured a way out. It makes you even stronger, I have no idea how you deal with this crap! Dean and I would've gone insane if we were in your shoes for more than a day."

- he is also forcing back his infamous (spectacular) bitchface

- he doesn't 'hold back' actually

- he geniunely cannot glare at you, not when you're like this. He can make a few exceptions, like when you join in Dean's teasing/joking (the silly rambunctious energy Dean carries around had, unfortunately, contiminated you or awakened yours)

- or when you start teasing Sam yourself, he shoots you a glare that classifies as nothing but hot (in your book at least), the kind of Sam glare that makes you flush knowing he doesn't mean it at all.

- Dean making you those fake ass I.D's like "Joan Jett", "Stevie Nicks", "Kathleen Hanna" and when you asked him to make more subtle ones he was like, bet. "Kelly Hammer", "Diana Bowie", "Laura Ulrich".

a/n: I wanted to apologize again for taking so long and for the unnecessary amount of context that literally nobody asked for. Uhh yeah and feedback would be very much appreciated<3, sava out *mic drop*

[stevie-petey]

How about a bug and Robin blurb? Maybe the first time Robin saw bug and how her crush on bug developed? You posted so much and I'm so grateful for you, you keep me sane 😭

ok ok i wouldnt necessarily say robin has a crush on bug per say, but she def has always had a youresoprettyandcoolpleaselookatmebeforeidie vibe with bug LMAO

enjoy !

"okay, we're doing ice breakers today. i want everyone to tell the class their name and one fun fact about them. everyone understand?" mrs. greer, robins english teacher, announces.

robin sinks low into her seat. she hates ice breakers. its the first day of sophomore year and robins third class of the day and shes done more ice breakers than she thinks should be legal. theyre annoying and horrible and should be considered a crime against society instead.

a few kids in the class give half-hearted responses to the teacher. everyone is tired, no one wants to be here, and robin knows its going to be a long year for her.

one by one, agonizingly slowly, the students in the room present themselves to the class. theyre all the same kids robin has known her entire life. no one new ever comes to hawkins, its a painfully small town.

she watches with dread as the kid in front of her stands up and announces that his name is greg and that he has a pet frog named freg. robin is so bored out of her mind that she laughs at fregs name, and greg gives her an odd look.

not a good way to start her introduction to the class.

all eyes turn to her, shes next, and robin sighs. her knees shake slightly, her palms sweat. "hi, im. uh, robin. robin buckley."

"and your fun fact, ms. buckley?" mrs. greer prompts, making robin want to die even more.

"right! uh," does she even have a fun fact about herself? she thinks girls are prettier than boys, if that counts for anything, but she doubts that would go over well. mind blanking, robin spits out the first thing she can think of. "it-it took me longer than average to learn how to walk?"

no one says anything.

someone coughs.

mrs. greer blinks at her.

robin sits back down in her seat and covers her head. shes mortified. hey, look at me! i cant walk ! who even says that?

"hello," a familiar voice reprieves robin of her mortification. she turns in her seat and almost chokes. its you. perfect, wonderful, way too cool for robin, you. "im y/n henderson, and my fun fact is that i have a cat named mews and a turtle named yurtle."

"freg is better." greg quips, a smug smile on his face.

you laugh, and its angelic to robins ears. your hair is pinned up today, a sweater drapes over your frame, and robin is convinced that youre not real. "i gotta admit, its pretty good."

"thanks, i thought of it myself."

"how creative of you, greg."

greg winks at you and gives you a thumbs up, pleased, and robin wants to die again. you give him a confused look, clear your throat, and sit back down. right behind robin. because of course youre seated behind robin. why wouldnt you be?

"im jonathan byers and my fun fact is that yurtle the turtle once bit me."

you stifle a laugh between your fingers and jonathan glares at you. robin sinks down into her seat. this is just her luck. shes going to be sitting in front of you and jonathan for the rest of the school year.

shes been dying to be your friend ever since she first saw you last year, but youve never strayed from jonathans side long enough for her to work up the nerve.

now here you are, and the stupid loner boy sits next to you.

robin hates her life.