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ghostofskywalker · 3 months ago

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More Than The Persona

Tyler Owens/Fem!Reader

Words: 2,248

Summary: Tyler Owens is the poster child for storm chasing, his videos often leading to viewers glamourising these drastic weather events. As a first responder, you're no stranger to the death and destruction that tornadoes leave in their wake, so the two of you don't exactly click the first time you meet.

Note: i saw twisters yesterday and i was pleasantly surprised with how much i enjoyed it, since i also love the original 1996 one. as far as why this was written, i’m procrastinating writing zine fics right now and that's the only explanation I can offer lol. i'd love to write more twisters fic in the future though, i did have fun with it

As you stepped out of the ambulance, you could see destruction wherever you turned. Countless houses were razed where they stood, their contents strewn all across the street. Even the structures that had been lucky enough to only get clipped by the tornado were still damaged beyond repair, in some cases with their entire facades ripped off, now laying somewhere smashed on the ground. No matter how many times you had seen scenes like this, the gravity of the situation never got lighter. For almost all of these people, recovering would take months, if not years.

Crowds were just beginning to collect on the streets as some emerged from storm shelters, but you knew there were some who hadn’t been afforded that luxury. You shared a knowing look with the other members of your team as they began to step over the debris in search of those that might be trapped under rubble.

By the time more pickup trucks pulled up to the scene, you had set up outside one of the ambulances, hard at work treating the wounds of those who could make it over to you. The crates of water bottles next to you were quickly diminishing, but the line of people in need of medical care never seemed to, which was a sitaution you were unfortunately used to finding yourself in.

As the newcomers fanned out through the area, you weren’t the only one who stared. Although not a fan yourself of the self-appointed “Tornado Wrangler,” you unfortunately recognized the man who led a small group down the street. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you turned your attention back to the person in front of you. There was nothing you could do about the fact that some wannabe celebrities were trying to profit off of the disaster by getting in the public’s good graces, so you would just have to suck it up and hope they eventually get bored enough to leave.

Hours later, you were still in that same spot, and there was still so much to do. Some of the ambulances had left temporarily the scene, taking those whose injuries were more intense off to the closest hospital. Right now, your priority was getting immediate medical aid to those who needed it, even if you could feel your eyes drooping with fatigue. As you gently bandaged up the arm of a young girl, someone tapped on your your shoulder. “Take a break,” and you could hear the sound of your best friend’s voice even if you were looking at him. “I can tell that you need it.”

You shook your head as the little girl walked off in the direction her mother was standing. “Don’t worry about me Isaac, ‘m fine here.”

“I don’t believe that,” he responded. “At least get some water and take a few moments to eat something.”

After a few more passes back and forth, Isaac practically shoved you from your post. With a water bottle in your hand, you wandered around the area, mind racing as you tried to find a way you could help once you had taken a few minutes to yourself. But of course, you were not granted solitude for long. Right as you had raised the bottle to your lips, a voice interrupted your thoughts. “Need anything?”

Tyler Owens was standing a few paces away, a small box in his hands. The cowboy hat on his head looked pristine, a stark contrast to the way that your work clothes were already too grimy for your taste. “I’m okay,” you said, sending a tight-lipped smile his way and hoping that he would get the message that you weren’t interested in conversing right now. “Thank you.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, clearly not having picked up on the signs. “You’ve been out here for hours and this is the first time you’ve stopped for any kind of break.”

Your gaze hardened slightly as you regarded him. “And how would you know?” He was correct of course, but you had no plans to admit that, especially not when he acted as though he knew everything about you.

“It was just a guess, but I can see that I’m right,” he said, a smile crossing his face that you hated to say that you found attractive. Why did the best looking people have to act as dumb as they did?

By the grace of the universe, a colleague called you over to them right as you opened your mouth to respond, and Tyler didn’t follow as you headed over to help once more. The whole time, you found yourself thinking about him and his team. What were they even doing here, besides getting in the way of those actually trying to help?

***

After that time, it felt like you ran into Tyler Owens at least three times a week. He and his team showed up to the sites of destruction with their video cameras out as they surveyed the damage. Multiple times, you had to shoo them away from you as you worked, tirelessly bandaging cuts, scrapes, and other lacerations that people had suffered from the winds of the storm. Despite the fact that your initial conversation with Tyler had lasted less than a minute, he apparently felt that it was enough to bother you again, and to act as though you were much closer than you were.

This time, you were bandaging up an older woman when you heard his voice interrupt your focus. “Hey medic!”

Resisting the urge to sigh, you turned to look at him. “What are you doing here?”

Unfortunately, the smile on his face didn’t shift at your tone. “Helping, of course.”

“And how exactly is annoying me while I’m just trying to do my job considered helpful?”

“I’m convincing you to take a break,” he said. “I’ve seen how hard you work, and the way you put others first so many times. Sometimes you need to take care of yourself to take care of others.”

Sighing, you finished gently wrapping gauze around the woman’s leg before speaking. “Nice try, making it seem like you have any concern,” you said. “But I don’t have any interest being on in your YouTube videos, and I can take care of myself perfectly fine.”

His smile dropped slightly as he registered your words, the first time it’s happened since you met. Every other time, your words seem to pass right over him, no matter how annoyed you sounded as you spoke, but not this one. He mumbled something you didn’t quite catch before stepping away, and you felt your heart sink slightly in a way you didn’t expect.

“He’s right you know,” the woman you had just bandaged said as she got up from the chair in front of you.

“What?” you asked, still trying to wrap your head around the conversation with Tyler.

“You need to take a break at some point. If you’ve been out helping like this after all these recent storms, it’s going to take a toll on you.”

You nodded, knows that both her and Tyler were right. “I will, I promise.”

“Good,” said. The woman left after giving you another knowing smile, and you flagged down Isaac to take your place for a few minutes.

It always felt strange, to sit down on the ground and look at the tornado’s destruction. Children’s toys, blankets, and even the skeletal remains of furniture were on the street now, no telling which homes they had once belonged to. You stared out as the wind picked up a photo and pushed it away from you, before it was eventually grabbed by someone.

As you took a sip of the water bottle in your hands, Tyler appeared from the crowds once more, his hands up in mock surrender as he approached you. “I see you took my advice.”

“I see you’re still dead set on bothering me wherever I go,” you said, but the tone was halfhearted.

“It’s not my only goal in life, but it’s one I get to work on often,” he said, sitting down next to you.

“Why?” you asked, finally gathering up the courage to voice the question that had been swirling around your mind since you first met him. “I don’t know you. No offense, of course.”

A small snort of laughter left his mouth. “I don’t know, I think at this point we could be longtime friends.” You raised your eyebrows at him, and the smile on face grew as he realized that this was once again lighthearted teasing. “I keep bothering you because I can tell you need someone to tell you when to stop.”

Immediately, you got a little defensive. “No I don’t.”

“Come on, I think the only time I’ve ever seen you take a break is when someone else said something, and I doubt it’s ever done without some kind of denial.” You looked down at the ground, slightly embarrassed that he had hit the nail on the head. “People all across the community are going to be incredibly grateful for the hours you put in to help them, but it wouldn’t matter as much if you’re neglecting your own care.”

You stopped, staring once more at the destruction in front of you. “Just because I’m not smiling and laughing for the camera doesn’t mean I’m not taking care of myself.”

“Going hours without even a sip of water doesn’t exactly back that statement up you know.”

“Fine,” you admitted. “Maybe you’re right, but it certainly doesn’t help when people like you show up to these scenes to sightsee all the destruction and try to get some clicks out of it.”

His face changed in an instant, growing more somber than you’ve ever seen before. “Is that all you think we’ve been doing?”

You nodded slowly, not sure what to expect from his change of attitude.

“I suppose the way you’ve treated me makes sense now.”

You stopped. “So you’re not just here for fun?”

“Half of what we do can usually be considered stupid, I’ll admit that,” he said, looking over at you. “But it’s not all fun and games, I promise. See over there?” He gestured to where a group of people were standing around a table outside his team’s camper van, the reason for their presence obscured by the growing crowd gathering there. “A portion of our our t-shirt sales is put towards disaster kits, and my team over there is handing them out. Free of charge of course.”

As your eyes focused on the scene, you could see he was right. There was no exchange of money as the team of people handed out boxes of food and bottles of water. You could see a stack of T-shirts sitting to the side, but even those were being handed out to the those that asked whenever requested.

Immediately, you were overwhelmed with embarrassment at the way you had always perceived him, when all this time he had been doing so much to aid those who just had their lives disrupted. Maybe if you had taken the time to look past the thrill-seeking attitude you could have seen that, but instead you had been so wrapped up in your own life and work. “I’m so sorry for the way I saw you,” you said, turning towards Tyler with a sincere look on your face. “You want to help just as much as I do, and I let my opinion the ‘Tornado Wrangler’ persona get in the way of understanding that.”

He smiled in a way that was more genuine than any of the others you had seen on him. “Thanks,” he said sincerely. “But don’t worry about it, you’re not the first person to make the assumption, and you probably won’t be the last. I willingly drive into tornados for fun, it’s not exactly something you do if you’re not a little bit crazy.”

You laughed. “Yeah, as a medical professional I really can’t condone that.”

“Most people would probably agree with you.”

The two of you sat there for a few minutes more, a comfortable silence enveloping the air before you had to get back to work. There was still so much more to be done, and the daylight hours were slipping away.

But as the two of you got up and you began to walk away, Tyler’s voice stopped you. “Hey.”

Turning around to face him, a quizzical look overtook your face. “Hmm?”

“I’ll see you around, alright?”

You smiled, the cautious fluttering of tiny butterflies taking hold of your stomach. It was only a matter of time before this happened, you supposed, but you tried not to let anything show on your face. “Yeah,” you said, a genuine smile breaking through any attempt you made to remain nonchalant. “See you around.”

***

That night, as you laid on the couch watching TV, you saw a text pop up on your phone from a number you didn’t recognize.

It’s Tyler. Before you get mad at me, Isaac gave me your contact info.

You playfully rolled your eyes, making a mental note to confront your friend later, that perceptive bastard.

Do you wanna go out for drinks sometime? I don’t wanna have to wait for another tornado to see you.

Sure, was the response you typed out and sent off, but on the inside, you were a lot more excited.

Okay, maybe you didn’t have to be that hard on Isaac.

- the end -

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#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x female reader #tyler owens x you #twisters fanfic #tyler owens fanfiction #glenn powell x reader #twisters x reader

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 1 year ago

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[10:13 pm]

(POOKIE PROPAGANDA!!! Anyway,, cw: this is mostly humor, with a weird smidge of angst)

Situationship!Jaehyun wishes he could focus on the show playing on his laptop. He was in the perfect position to lay back and relax after a long week. He was under his warmest blanket, laying in bed, and had you laying right beside him. He was big spoon as was his usual position when it came to cuddling. However, he wishes he could just put a stop to the constant repetition of the same song playing over and over again kissin’ I hope they caught us, kissin’ I hope they caught us. It was getting on his last nerve. That song paired with your excited giggles were driving him crazy knowing that it was some type of edit. You shouldn’t be looking at anyone else while cuddling with him!

He tried to peek over your shoulder, his show no longer keeping his interest while his curiosity (jealousy) was gnawing at his brain, but you were so curled in on yourself and covered with blankets that he couldn’t see anything. “I’m noticing that the edits are changing,” he heard a man say before Agora Hills started up again. He could confidently say that about 20 minutes ago he had nothing against Doja Cat, but now he could say he hated her. He had nothing against her beside the fact that her song was driving him up the wall.

And really he should have been grateful, the song was better than hearing the guy talk for a whole minute flirting at the camera, ugh how cringe. “Pookie” this and “Pookie” that and “Pookie, Pookie, Pookeh!” Jaehyun had had enough. He wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you impossibly closer, “What are you watching baby?”

You hummed before giggling at the video playing on your phone, “my husband.”

Jaehyun froze, his blood ran cold, he tightened his hold, “Who?”

You turned to face Jaehyun slightly, revealing a guy sitting in his car talking to his phone like a total loser, “Big Pookie.”

“Why are you saying all these names like I’m supposed to know who it is?”

“You don’t know Girl Dinner? Pray Pray?” You asked, Jaehyun shook his head, “God, I forget your for you page is aggressively male. You don’t know Prayag?”

“Why would I know him?”

“Because he’s an icon. Here, you have to have seen this,” you reply before pulling up a video where “Big Pookie” waves his hands and shakes his shoulders.

Jaehyun scoffs with an eye roll, “I can do that,” before he sits up and starts doing the most horrendous shimmy and pointing you have ever seen. He smirks, clearly thinking he’s just done something to drive you wild with lust, “does that make you want on your real man now?”

Your mouth closes to a flat line, “You’re not my anything.”

Then you turn over to face away from him again. He quickly turns you around to face him before the man in his car can recapture your attention. “Why would you be laying in my bed if we weren’t anything?”

You shrug, avoiding his gaze with a sudden shyness, “You never liked it when I called you my boyfriend before. You just ask me to come over and do all these relationship things without the commitment and I go along because I like you. I don’t want to lose you so I just go along.”

Jaehyun can feel his heart drop to the pit of his stomach, “I’m sorry I ever made you feel like that. I should have made my feelings more clear. I was an ass when we first started seeing each other, but if I’m being honest I thought that we’d been official for at least 3 months.”

Your jaw drops yet again, “When did you act any differently?”

“I thought me cooking your favorite meal over a candlelit dinner when I gave you that necklace was the turning point,” Jaehyun replies, playing with the chain around your neck with a very poorly concealed smirk.

You bury your face in his chest and groan out of embarrassment, “I could have been calling you my boyfriend this whole time!”

“Glad we cleared that up, can we watch the show again?” Jaehyun asks, saving you from more embarrassment.

You quickly roll over, facing the screen and Jaehyun feels a sense of ease and calm. Finally, he can relax. Until a few mainutes later when he hears your gasp and “Pookie, I don’t know whose hair this is.”

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamp #nct blurbs #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun fluff #Jaehyun blurb #jaehyun timestamps

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hobiespick · 3 months ago

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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*

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #spn #supernatural fanfiction #jared padalecki #jensen ackles #supernatural headcanons #supernatural fandom #supernatural season 1 #reader insert #supernatural imagine #supernatural fic #sava preaches

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srbachchan · 5 months ago

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DAY 5948

Jalsa, Mumbai May 31-June 1, 2024 Fri/Sat 12:14 AM

🪔 ,

June 01 .. birthday greetings to Ef Barun Sen .. and Ef Manish Singh Rajpoot .. 🙏🏻🚩❤️

Belated birthday greetings to Ef Amit Agrawal from Seattle USA 🇺🇸 .. for May 31 .. 🙏🏻🚩❤️

and all the wishes for the birthdays from the Ef family .. love ❤️

so each day is a learning .. what I learnt today stays .. and is replicated to others , and in particular family and the dear ..

I learn today ..

aaahh .. never mind ..

it be not of interest or importance to share to the other .. there is ever the reason for it .. and it be that , better to get the sharing of another that is greatly more proficient and valued than what you may have picked up .. and that is and has been the practice, at least for me .. I may be of the opinion that my learning could be of value to another .. but what if his or her learning is sufficiently more interesting than mine .. to assume that yours is the best is my fallacy .. and fear in many ways .. to be put down is an embarrassment .. ever .. you think you know all but there are millions of others better than you .. you m ay be the strongest physical presence in your environ, until you turn a corner on the street and discover that there are several others stronger than you .. your boast goes to roast .. !!

so ..

come to me .. yes , come .. but -

wait .. wait .. wait .. !!

I am never the best ..

and wait .. wait .. waaaiiittttt .. could be the utterance from AAA in film coming out of an Easter egg , giberiging :

'the whole country of the system is juxtapositioned by the haemoglobin in the atmosphere .. !!'

but it was just ad. libbed at the recording by me .. not making any sense .. Manmohan Ji just allowed me to say any junk at my request .. just so it looks like a proficient English speaking Anthony, when indeed he is not .. and merely just rattling off some BUMFF .. !

AND ..

you shall be surprised and shocked as am I , that it was mere junk spoken by me .. but the Ef Bushra on a research of the film Amar Akbar Anthony by the interview given by Man ji to an English journalist or writer found this :

The song ‘My name is Anthony Gonsalves’ begins with these lines spoken by Anthony when he emerges from the Easter egg – “You see, the whole country of the system is juxtapositioned by the hemoglobin in the atmosphere because you are a sophisticated rhetorician intoxicated by the exuberance of your own verbosity.” It is an almost exact quotation from a speech in the Parliament of the United Kingdom given by British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli in 1878. Disraeli (who was referring to William Ewart Gladstone) used the word “inebriated” rather than “intoxicated.”

wooooaaaahhhh !!! 😳

AND .. hang on ..

I had some days ago either a letter or a WhatsApp message from a cinema fan and a very proficient scientist, I think from the US, an Indian doing research on space , that the words :

'juxtapositioned by the haemoglobin in the atmosphere'

is a scientific fact .. that indeed there is this factor and a reality, scientifically proven, of 'haemoglobin in the atmosphere, being juxtapositioned,' or something like this .. and his purpose of writing to me was ..

how did mr B know of this fact years before it was researched ..

🤣

NO NO NO sir .. I knew nothing .. they were just funny sounding words that were invented at the time of the song recording live by me, spontaneously, without any pre prep or meaning, and enacted in the song , my name is Anthony Gonsalves ... !!!!

OHHH .. BABY .. !!!

I must search that mail or letter .. to give the correct interpretation of this scientist ..

so where did we start today ..?

aaah yes .. learning ..

told you .. never a dull day ..🤨

Love night and dreams 😴

Amitabh Bachchan

... such a common phenomena 👆🏼 in the days of the cassette generation

🤣

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marikosenwrites · 10 months ago

Note

kazuuuuuuuu for anythin pls

inazuma men dating head canons

sen: okay so first request im nervous af shitttt but anon thanks for the request! i'm gonna do inazuma men dating head canons because head canons are literally the easiest to do but i enjoy doing them! (since it's "for anythin" i'm gonna do gn!reader) surprisingly little inazuman men btw (wanderer is in sumeru but kuni and scara sob not including them)

warnings: names called, ooc?, i can't do poetry (kazuha esp)

gn!reader

kazuha

♡he's a soft bb

♡when he first confessed, he read a poem instead of normally confessing and this is normal for kazuha to speak in riddles

♡you had to think for a minute until you figured it out

♡ofc you accepted his confession

♡you guys went on small dates at first, like at uyuu-tei and such

♡soon, you started going to each other's houses instead

♡like home dates and you would drink tea and cuddle on the couch together <3

♡sometimes he would stay for the night

♡like one time he came over and a thunderstorm happened

♡so he was like "the rain doesn't stop me from returning home."

|♡"but, i wouldn't want you to catch a cold! ah, i know! you can stay for the night, i bet i have some larger clothing that suits you." you tried stopping him from leaving.

|♡kazuha smiles, "as you wish, my love."

♡so you let him shower first and then you

♡he wore a large shirt of your that your aunt gifted (she mistakenly had your size wrong)

♡you guys cuddle in bed and he gives you a small forehead kiss that makes you go to sleep

♡you just smile and lean closer into his chest

|♡"may the stars of teyvat representing me be with you even when i'm not here, my darling."

thoma

♡loves you lots

♡he goes on dates with you at the komore teahouse, you both were ayato's friends so he allows it

♡you guys love taroumaru to death

♡even if you had an allergy, you would just wear a mask and look at taroumaru lovingly from a distance

♡i feel like thoma's a simple is best kinda guy

♡so the simplest dates ever, like just cafe dates or home dates thats all no further planning needed

♡if you have a garden or something like that, you guys just hang out in the grass and like make flower crowns (if you or thoma know how to make one)

|♡lying in the grass be like "dear me, these flowers are so pretty. but do you know what's prettier?" he asks you, turning his head to look at you.

|♡"...no, what is it, thoma?" you reply while you fiddle with the petals.

|♡"you." he says, as he watches your cheeks turn bright red and put tomatoes to shame.

|♡"...thoma! that's so cheesy!" you would tell him, but your reaction says otherwise.

♡regularly stays at your home, or stays with you at the kamisato residence if ayato and ayaka allows.

♡often big spoon if you're gonna like do cuddling and stuff in bed

|♡"goodnight, darling! have a sweet dream, i'll still be here when you wake up. if waka doesn't wake me up, i guess."

arataki itto

♡would often play that game (i forgot) with you

♡challenges children with you too

♡i'm gonna expect that the two of you are playful so you're gonna be like YESS when the child says okay to yours and itto's antics

♡you guys gonna keep losing and then like get one or two victories and stuff

|♡"YES YES YES WE WON!!!" itto screamed in happiness.

|♡"I KNOW, ITTO, I KNOW!" you screamed back at him, frightening the kids, both of you.

♡their parents gonna ask them to stay away from you but they're like "NO IT'S FUN"

♡they end up getting grounded for a week 💀

♡he stays at your house for at least one night if you have home dates because kuki is coming after him

|♡when you're like "NO SNACKS FOR YOU THEY'RE MINE"

|♡he would shout back "NO FAIR I WANT THEM TOO"

♡and you two end up on the couch sharing the pack of chips with him

♡you fall asleep on him and as the "caring boyfriend" he just sleeps too

♡in the morning you wake up first because itto is such a sleeper

♡you have to make breakfast for him but he wakes up in the middle of you making breakfast and gives you back hugs <33

|♡"morning...did you have a nice sleep?"

gorou

♡feel like he's the type to confess first

♡he gave you apples when he confessed (there are a lot in watatsumi i suppose (and fruits))

♡supports pda and doesn't support pda at the same time

♡maybe holding hands and smol kisses

♡likes inviting you to watatsumi and pick fruits together <3

♡his nickname for you is just the shortened form of your name (if ur name is already short well.... just your name i'm sorry)

|♡"n/n, look! this one's perfect! come on, i'll pick it with you." gorou gestures for you to go over to him.

|♡you go over to the boy. "oh, really? wow...it really is perfect!"

|♡"i know, right? come on, pick it."

♡after some convincing, gorou picks it for you 💀

♡you guys just hang in his house (if he has one) bc you're still in watatsumi and no you dont live there

♡he's skilled with his hands (both in cooking and...the other way)

♡loves being the big spoon when sleeping with you

♡actually wraps his tail around your stomach to keep your warm

♡cooks your breakfast when you wake up

|♡"n/n, it's time to wake up! i have breakfast on the table for you, come on, it's apple pie!"

kamisato ayato

♡i used to say kamistos shit ignore it

♡your confession caught him off guard (you confessed first)

♡he also has feelings for you

♡so ayato asked if you would like to go to komore teahouse when his schedules are a bit more manageable

♡ofc you said yes

♡yall were just chilling and getting to know each other at the teahouse

♡doesn't exactly favor pda you realized

♡as the head of the kamisato clan, assassins are often planted in his house

♡doesn't want you to get hurt bc of him

♡you end up getting hurt? YOU'RE STAYING WITH ME FOR 2 MONTHS

♡showers you with affection when you're alone though

♡quadraple triple double checks if yall are alone

|♡"okay, seems like we're alone now," your boyfriend states, giving in to his uncertainty and letting out a tired sigh before coming to your loving arms on the couch.

|♡"'yato, are you sure you don't need a break? ayaka seems bored lately." you slightly massage his shoulders, feeling his tense muscles relax at your touch.

|♡"maybe some time. most of the events need me to be participating. i'm sorry i can't spend more time with you, love."

♡you hum in silence

♡ayato loves that you're getting along well with ayaka

♡he has her teaching you swordsmanship

♡sometimes thoma joins ("but, waka, i wanna join! i wanna help y/n-san!" -thoma)

♡ok so sleep positions

♡sleeps face up

♡but when you're there (usually after the attacks or smth) he's wrapping his arms around you while sleeping on his side

|♡"good night, darling. let's hope none of the little bugs bother us tonight. have plenty of sweet dreams, good night."

shikanoin heizou

♡his ego went *BOOM* when you confessed to him

♡heizou loves solving mysteries with you <3

♡one time he asked you to attend his case so you can see how cool he is

♡loves sharing food with you (?)

♡goes to onsens with you all the time

♡loves listening to music with you too

|♡"isn't this piece soothing?" he would ask you, putting an arm around your waist.

|♡"of course, 'zou. this is just right for me," you would answer, leaning into him.

♡loves staying at your house for some reason??

♡also stays for like a month once at a time probably half his year is in your house

♡but he doesn't mind

♡your presence is enough to soothe him and his tired mind

♡just sleeps face up

♡you do too

♡he always wakes up earlier than you, case or no case

♡BREAKFAST!!!

|♡"morning, my love. had a good sleep? i hope you did, because breakfast is coming."

(would do this at 7am idk why)

a/n: i learned the art of putting the "keep reading" sign (thumbs up!)

©all banners, dividers, and stories are made by marikosenwrites and the pictures in it are from pinterest. i own none of the GENSHIN IMPACT characters mentioned here.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #shikanoin heizou #heizou x reader #kamisato ayato #ayato x reader #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha x reader #fluff #headcanons #arataki itto #itto x reader #kuki metioned #gorou #gorou x reader #thoma #thoma x reader #marikosenwrites #og post

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devildom-moss · 2 years ago

Text

Calling them "baby girl" in front of others (the new side characters)

(Raphael, Mephisto, and Thirteen x gn!MC)

(Suggestive)

A/N: Since there are only 3, I made these a bit longer. Requested by: @student-in-devildom

Raphael

The adults at Purgatory Hall came to visit Lucifer for a drink or two from a new bottle of Demonus that Diavolo gifted him – which meant that Lucifer invited Raphael and Simeon in a rare instance of nostalgia, but they brought Solomon along with them out of affection. Asmodeus and Satan decided to join in, too, with Asmo practically dragging you along with him.

You received individual texts from both Solomon and Simeon that they were heading over. The drinking got a little heavier than expected between the seven of you. Although, you and Solomon had nothing to worry about. Asmo, on the other hand, was poking at your side – deep into his tipsy phase – and whispered into your ear, daring you to try to fluster Raphael. “He’s so straight-faced and uptight, MC. You should do something about it, love.”

You had to admit that he was right, you wouldn’t mind seeing what he looks like when he’s flustered. You were friendly enough, but Raphael hadn’t shown much in the way of interest. You weren’t even sure what would work on a guy like him and not provoke the spears, so you might as well try something way out of left field. You grabbed the bottle of Demonus, taking it to Raphael, and asked him, “can I pour you another drink, baby girl?”

Lucifer slow-blinked, and both Simeon and Satan nearly choked. Solomon was biting back a laugh – and Asmodeus was too. Everyone’s eyes were on you, even Raphael’s. He tilted his head to the side.

“I’m not a girl. Wait. Did you think I was a girl this whole time?” Asmodeus lost it and started cracking up in the background while Solomon tried to hush him up. Satan’s attention turned to Lucifer, who looked like you had broken every spare braincell he had prepared to use that day. Lucifer took the bottle from your hands and topped his glass off.

Even though gender doesn’t mean much to an angel, Raphael didn’t know how to feel. He was a bit hurt, though, and it showed on his face. He thought you knew him well enough to at least know he didn’t identify as a girl. You quickly started to explain to him that you were trying to tease him to see if he got flustered, but even then, he didn’t understand.

“Why would that make me flustered? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, you see,” you started while Lucifer and Simeon downed another glass, “sometimes people enjoy being called nicknames like that and it turns them on.”

Raphael looked up at you and nodded. He grabbed your thighs from his seated position and used them to pull you onto him, so you were straddling his lap. With no concern for the glares from Lucifer and Satan, he leaned into your neck. He dropped his voice, but the room was silent enough that everyone could hear him speak: “if you wanted to seduce me, you should have tried physical touch.”

The glass in Satan’s hand cracked, and everyone in the room was filled with regret – regretted inviting anyone, regretted showing up – everyone except for Asmo and Raphael, that is.

Mephistopheles

“Who invited him?” Lucifer sighed from his seat beside Diavolo. Lucifer had been invited to a party by one of his and Diavolo’s mutual acquaintances. He wasn’t going to go, but Diavolo (and by consequence, Barbatos) begged him. It was one of those parties that had an especially elegant dress code, and Diavolo loved an excuse to see Lucifer all dolled up. He caved on the condition that he could bring you as his plus one. Diavolo was thrilled to get to see both of you dressed up. You turned in your seat to see whom Lucifer meant by "him."

None of you expected to see Mephisto walk into that party.

“He has friends in high places, despite his. . .” Barbatos paused to find the appropriate words.

“Personality?” Lucifer offered.

“Don’t be rude, Lucifer.” Diavolo scolded him.

It was as if Mephisto had a magical sense for finding Diavolo in a room because he was headed your way – the sound of his heels clacking on the cold marble floors highlighted his approach. It was like the Jaws theme song: signaling the impending attack.

You couldn’t quite keep your eyes off him. You’d never seen Mephisto in formal wear like this. He donned an all-white suit with gold accents and a magenta tie. It was surprising to see that he had a second pair of white heels to wear. He was so pretty – had he always been this pretty?

“Lord Diavolo,” Mephisto exclaimed, “it’s wonderful to see you. Your elegance is putting everyone here to shame. I see you brought Barbatos.”

“Good to see you, Mephisto.” Diavolo smiled at him.

“And the human is here, too,” he looked down at you. “You clean up better than I expected, MC. Interesting choice of attack dog, though.”

Lucifer was about to retort him, but you spoke before he had the opportunity, “damn, baby girl, you look gorgeous.”

“Excuse me?” Mephisto placed a hand over his heart in shock, before clearing his throat and readjusting his tie. The other three watched on in confusion and a tinge of jealousy that you hadn’t been ogling them like that.

“You look hot – just saying,” you shrugged at him with a smirk. He was visibly flustered.

“Lucifer, control your human!”

“Not my job. I’m an attack dog, aren’t I?” Lucifer tilted his head slightly, savoring Mephisto’s frustration.

Mephisto let out an exasperated sigh and grabbed your hand, pulling you up from your seat, “pardon me, Lord Diavolo, Barbatos. I clearly need to take MC’s manners into my own hands.”

“Uhm,” you stared back at the other three demons as Mephistopheles dragged you away. You stifled a laugh and waved goodbye to them.

“Should we do something, my Lord?” Barbatos asked.

“He’s harmless,” Diavolo chuckled, “MC can handle themselves.”

“That man gives me a headache,” Lucifer sighed. He knew if you needed him, you’d call him; although he still wasn’t happy to let another demon take you away.

Mephisto dragged you into a dimly lit room where a number of couples were slow-dancing to smooth electronic music. Bubbles gently floated down from the ceiling. Mephisto pulled you flush against him, his hand on the small of your back, and stared into your eyes. It was hard to read his face, but he didn’t look angry.

“You shouldn’t go around teasing demons, you know?” Mephisto’s hand slid down to your hip, feeling you sway with the music. “Did your dog not teach you that?”

“But you really are beautiful,” you smiled. Even in the dark, you could see his eyes soften.

“Nevertheless,” he inched his face closer to yours, “you might end up in trouble if you compliment someone like me.”

“How so?”

Mephisto whispered into your ear – so close that his lips nearly grazed your skin, “you might end up going home with a different demon than you came here with.”

Thirteen

Thirteen had been keeping her eye on you since the beginning of class. You had kept your head down throughout the entire lecture, and you seemed to be writing slower and just staring at your notes today – and with good cause. Between a few nights of poor sleep and the brothers’ constant bickering that they had made a point to drag you into this morning, the headache pounding at the side of your skull in unpredictable intervals had you wishing you were laying down in your bed in complete darkness – not struggling to focus on your professor’s analysis of the proliferation of anti-Celestial Realm rhetoric in Devildom literature in the post-war era.

After the class was dismissed and the professor rushed to their next class, the other students began to filter out. You refused to get up, instead, burying your eyes in your hands to block out the harsh classroom lighting – although even a single flickering candle would have stung at that point. Mammon, Leviathan, and Asmodeus stuck around, too, deciding to resume their argument from this morning. You tried to filter it out, catching a brief evolution of insults: “absolute moron,” “makes sense you’d have a snake tongue because you have no taste,” “I didn’t know giving so much head meant your own head was void of thoughts.”

Ignoring the argument, Thirteen walked over to you, squatting down so she could look up at your face. She placed a hand on your arm, “are you unwell, MC?”

Her voice was gentle and cut through the noise. You dropped your hands to force a smile for her, “I’m alright, baby girl – just a headache.”

Heat rose to Thirteen’s face. Even if you were forcing it, that smile stalled her heart. She couldn’t stop staring at you. Just then, the sound of a chair sliding out and falling to the floor interrupted Thirteen’s admiration.

“Say that again, I dare ya!” Mammon yelled.

“Ugh! MC, control Mammon. He’s being totally unreasonable,” Asmo whined.

Thirteen shot up and glared at them briefly before returning her gaze to you. That glare melted, becoming instantly soft. She sighed, “let’s get you out of here.”

Thirteen helped you out of your seat before ushering you to the door. With you safely in the hallway, she pulled out one of her traps and set it off in the classroom. You could hear all three of the demons yelling and coughing as Thirteen led you down the hallway. You both crossed paths with Lucifer as he rushed, angrily, towards the noise. Thirteen stopped him, “Lucifer, you better control your damn brothers. Those obnoxious idiots are giving MC a headache. I’m taking them somewhere dark and quite.”

“Really?” Lucifer sighed and turned to you, caressing your head carefully, “I’m sorry, MC. I’ll deal with them properly. For now, go with Thirteen.”

You allowed Thirteen to keep pulling you deeper into the halls of RAD, focusing on the warmth of her hand in yours to distract from the throbbing. You kept your eyes shut as you walked and trusted that she wouldn’t let you fall or walk into anything, and she didn’t.

“This will do,” she squeezed your hand. When you opened your eyes, you were in one of RAD’s common rooms. It was much darker in there, and there was no one else around. You couldn’t even hear anyone off in the distance. Thirteen smoothed your hair down and rubbed your shoulder, “take a seat, MC.”

“Thank you,” you sat down on a large lounge chair. Thirteen extinguished a few more of the sconces on the wall before she returned to you.

“About earlier, why’d you call me that?”

“Call you what?” You shifted so that you were facing her.

“‘Baby girl.’”

“I guess it was because you looked so worried, and you sounded so gentle. You were being so nice to me,” you admitted.

“Oh?” Thirteen smirked and sank down to her knees so she could look up at you again. This time, the concern in her eyes was clouded over. She caressed your thigh, “I could be a lot nicer, if you want me to.”

(dateables version) | (demon brothers version)

#thirteen #raphael #mephistopheles #gn!mc #obey me side characters #obey me short fic #obey me #obey me raphael #obey me mephistopheles #obey me thirteen #obey me x reader #genuinely the only thing that got me out of bed today was writing this and that's pretty neat I guess

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teardrop-scales · 1 year ago

Note

Heyo saw your LMK sun wukong post and I love your writing!

Can you make general dating headcanons?

I love him sm he’s so silly :3.

Sun Wukong dating/relationship headcannons 🍑

A.N: Thank you for your kind words! And same, he's so goofy and I love him for it <3

Also, these turned out quite long (and I probably could've made them even longer, given how much I love this character), but I think/hope that you won't mind lol.

Also, not proofread, so sorry about any mistakes! Headcannons are below the cut.

First of all, he definitely calls you 'Peaches' or 'Peach' like, all the time. He will only call you by your name if he wants to show you that he's serious. Also he will occasionally use other nicknames, such as 'babe', 'honey', 'sweetheart'. But that's rare, 'Peaches' is still his favorite.

You are probably the only person he's willing to share his peach flavored chips with.

Also, he's kinda clingy and touch starved as hell. Can you really blame him though? This monkey was pretty much all alone for a few centuries.

So Wukong is almost always touching you in some kind of way when you are near him, even when you're somewhere public or not hugging or cuddling. Either hand holding, or he will curl his tail around your ankle or some more subtle things like that.

He will often groom your hair in search for bugs the way monkeys do if you sit next to each other. He knows you take good care of your hair and there's absolutely no way any bugs or insects could be in it. But it's an instinct, he can't help it. You don't mind however, he's so gentle when he does that that it's actually very relaxing.

He's touch starved to the point when if you have to get up while cuddling, he will whine quietly. But if you ask/tease him about it, Wukong will huff and deny it while claiming that you're just hearing things.

I have a headcannon that while he is very strong and all, his body isn't actually that muscular. In fact, he is a bit chubby. He's quite soft and squishy in a good way- I mean just look at him in the beach scene in season 4, he totally has a 'dad bod'- and you love it. Wukong's body is perfect for hugging.

I imagine his hugs being just the right amount of tight 👌 He's always warm and soft and actually smells really good- he smells of peaches and leaves.

Wukong loves hugging and being hugged, so you can hug him almost whenever you feel like it and he absolutely won't mind.

Call him Sunshine or Sunny or anything Sun related. Please do, he will literally melt.

Overall, Wukong's main love languages are: words of affirmation, quality time and touch.

We already know from the show that Wukong has no problem with words of affirmation, seeing how he constantly encourages MK and it is visible that he means every word. So this monkey will always and often tell you that he loves you and that you mean so much to him. You can count on him if you want some kind words to make you feel better. He may not be the best in terms of logical advice, but somehow you believe him every time he says it's going to be okay. Wukong also makes sure to tell you each day how good you look and say "I love you" at least once a day.

As for quality time, Sun really loves to spend time with you, it doesn't matter what activity. Although he prefers activities either at home or away from big crowds. He doesn't like to show himself in public spaces, the most he'll do is go with you to the cinema or maybe some not very well known restaurant or something. But he really loves to watch movies on his TV or laptop with you snuggled up to him on the couch. Wukong also loves taking you on walks around Flower Fruit Mountain or taking you for flights on his cloud. Honestly, as I said, to him it doesn't really matter what you do as long as he gets to spend time with you.

I already said some things about touch, but I can add that for some reason Wukong loves when you scratch him behind the ears, boop/gently pet his nose with your finger or pet his tail. These parts of him are quite sensitive, and he loves how gentle you are. He will literally turn into a puddle in your hands lol.

This monkey loves kissing you on the cheeks. Or poking you on them.

Generally when he's in the right mood he likes to teasingly poke you in various places on your body. And if you do it right back at him, it turns into either a poking or tickling battle, ending up with both of you laughing your butts off and snuggling with each other.

Sun sometimes likes to rub his cheek against yours.

Okay enough touch for now, I could go on and on about Wukong and physical affection lmao

You sometimes watch your boyfriend train MK when you have the time. You roll your eyes often at Wukong's smugness but at the same time you can't help but think how cool and badass he can be.

The Monkey King loves it when you watch them train, MK not so much, due to the fact that Wukong shows off a lot more when you are around and thus he is a bit harsher in training and more distracted, making it difficult for poor MK (that doesn't change the fact that MK really likes you and appreciates how happy you make his mentor).

This man is such a tease and a flirt sometimes honestly. He uses the most basic and overrated pick up lines just to annoy you. Be careful not to get flustered by any, because he won't ever let you forget it and will be proud as a peacock. Although it is slightly adorable that he's so proud that he got you flustered.

But sometimes you engage in his pick up lines shenanigans and tease him back or make fun of those lines.

"Did it hurt when you fell from the Celestial Realm Peaches?"

"Yeah, it hurt like hell, I landed on my butt."

Causing you both to laugh your butts off for a few solid minutes lmao.

Peaches or peach chips are the main things he eats, so prepare for always having a peach taste in your mouth after kissing him. Not that you complain, you actually like that fruit (although not as much as Wukong does).

By the way, he will absolutely swoon if you kiss him in front of other people out of nowhere (especially if you pull him by his shirt in order to do that); lovesick smile, dreamy eyes and tail shaped like a heart, the whole package lol.

Sometimes Sun likes to visit you at work or randomly pop in while you're somewhere public in the form of a bird or other small animal and just hang out with you, whispering comments about everyone and everything into your ear in this funny high pitched voice (I actually have a headcannon that while transforming his voice is higher the smaller the animal and the other way around)

If you're up for it, Wukong would love to teach you a few fighting or defense techniques. It would also make him much more relaxed and calm knowing that you have at least some basic knowledge on how to protect yourself, just in case. He'll always try to be there to protect you, but he can't promise that he will always make it on time or at all. He may be retired but still has some duties and other things to do.

A bit of a sad thing is, you both often think to yourselves; am I good enough for him/her? How in the world did I deserve such an amazing person as him/her in my life?

Wukong always tries to be happy, and hides his problems, fears or negative emotions behind his jokes and goofy attitude. I'm not saying that his personality is fake, he is a happy and goofy person most of the time, but there are some random days when he has trouble keeping it all in and fails to put on the facade that everything is okay.

If you want to help him in these times, basically all you have to do is sit there with him and be by his side. Give him a tight hug and sit with him in silence or maybe hum/sing something quietly if you want. Honestly your presence alone brings him a huge comfort; knowing that there is someone who loves him even with all his flaws, accepts him with everything he hides inside and with his past mistakes.

Overall, Sun Wukong has his problems and flaws, but he really tries to be the kind of boyfriend he thinks you deserve. And honestly you think he's doing a very good job; he is a very good boyfriend, maybe even the best in all the realms as you like to say <3

#the monkey king #lmk x reader #lmk #sun wukong x reader #sun wukong #lmk sun wukong x reader #lmk sun wukong #monkey king x reader #lmk monkey king x reader #lmk monkey king

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in-class-daydreams · 1 month ago

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Imagine ex-husband Geto watching the new assistant the school hired being completely awestruck by you.

Naturally, before this meeting, Suguru had to disclose to the new assistant that you two were once a married couple. The details of your divorce, Suguru chose not to get into. Unfortunately, this information, considering how much the newbie admired him, only served to make you even more fascinating. After all, who could possibly be worthy enough to marry - and eventually separate from - Suguru Geto?

"--or so the Inspector General says." Suguru catches the tail end of your explanation regarding an unusual amount of cursed spirits in a concentrated area. He may or may not have spaced out for the last minute of you talking, but at least the assistant, though lacking subtlety, has been taking diligent notes.

The assistant, a young man a few years younger than you and Suguru, somewhere in his mid-twenties, looks up at you in awe.

"The Inspector General speaks to you directly?" he asks. "You must be amazing at your job."

The Jujutsu Inspector General. The high commander of all jujutsu society, the highest of the higher ups. Yes, he spoke with you often.

Suguru fights the urge to roll his eyes when you preen. You're no stranger to praise whatsoever, but you did love basking in everyone's admiration.

"Flatterer," you respond.

"No, I mean it!" the assistant insists. "The report you sent us was so detailed! It was flawless! You're really talented."

"Aw, thank you! Was my report up to your standards, Suguru?" You turn to your ex-husband.

"Sure," Suguru scoffs.

The meeting continues on without much more incident. You've only just given them the supplemental documents when you check the time.

"Looks like that's all the time I have for now. Feel free to contact me if you need anything else." You stand and incline your head to them both, a gesture they return.

"Nice to meet you," you tell the newbie. To your ex-husband, you say, "Bye, Suguru!" and blow him a kiss. Suguru makes a gesture like he's swatting away a mosquito.

As they leave, the assistant nearly runs into the door frame in his eagerness to keep fawning over you, and Suguru feels like his soul's trying to climb out of his body.

Then again, that is the effect you tended to have on people. There were times when you were married when the both of you went to an event, your lethal face cards alone could get people to drop their drinks.

You smile and the assistant blushes. "Someday, we'll all meet for a nice lunch. I wish I could today, but I have a meeting with my father," you tell them with a wave, wiggling your fingers and the poor thing looks like he's about to devote himself to your every desire.

Suguru, however, has been there, done that. "Let's go." He grabs the assistant by the collar and tries to drag him out as fast as possible. If he could teleport out of here like Satoru, he would.

"Geto, sir," the assistant says, eyes never leaving your office door. "You were married to that woman? Isn't she just stunning? She's incredible! How could you ever have let her go?"

To each statement: Yes. Yes. I know. You'd be surprised.

"It's much more complicated than that," Suguru grumbles.

Suguru throws open the door to the hallway just to run into two men in suits. Behind them is their employer whom Suguru knows all too well, and behind him, another set of bodyguards.

"Suguru," the man greets lowly.

"Inspector General, sir." Suguru bows respectfully while the assistant nearly bashes his head on the floor in his haste.

"If you'll excuse me, I have business with my daughter," the Inspector General says. The two move right out of the way and watch as the entourage heads into your office.

It takes the assistant a moment to compute, but by the choked sound he eventually makes, it's clear that he's begun to comprehend just how complicated your marriage was.

I promise I haven't abandoned Sen and his family! I just wanted a little break/practice in Geto x Nepo Baby!MC and the much pettier divorce where I have free reign for them to be more problematic towards each other without having to worry about how horrible it would be for their child to have to witness it

[Masterlist] | Tag for this AU is #geto's nepo ex

#geto's nepo ex #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru

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starsandgutters · 2 months ago

Note

30!

Hello! Apologies for the delay, I have been unexpectedly busy this week.

30. - Only One Bed

“If this is supposed to be my trip, how come I don’t get my pick of the rooms?”

“We gave you the nicest room, Kevin. Stop being a bitch,” Allison says.

“I’ll take one of the other rooms then. Why wouldn’t one of the couples take this room?”

“We already have our rooms,” Dan says, leaning against Matt’s side. “And since we didn’t know Erik was coming when we booked it, Aaron’s the spare.”

“Can we stop arguing and go to said rooms? I’d love to set all these bags down,” Matt says.

“I can carry my own.”

“Oh no, baby. I got it. I’d just also like to set ‘em down.”

“Shall we at least go look at the room?” Aaron’s gone flush from having so much attention on him. “Maybe there’s a couch or something I can sleep on.”

Kevin turns his frown on Aaron. He doesn’t really want to shun Aaron away to sleep on the couch. That’s the problem, after all. It’s not that he doesn’t want to share a bed with Aaron Minyard; it’s that he’s actually rather partial to the idea. Which means this can only end disastrously, because Aaron definitely does not want to share a bed with him.

“Sure.” Kevin sighs. His tantrum hasn’t been getting him anywhere anyway, he might as well. Andrew has fixed him with a look of murderous rage, but honestly, Andrew looks like that a fair deal of the time so Kevin really pays him little mind.

“Alright Foxes.” Dan claps her hands. “Shall we say half an hour to check the rooms and get settled, and then we regroup back here for a quick lunch before hitting the slopes?”

“Is it wise to eat before that kind of exertion?” Kevin asks.

“Need energy for exercise,” Neil says.

“And besides, you won’t be exerting yourself that much on the baby slopes,” Allison says with a laugh. “You’ll be taking it easy until you graduate from pizza and fries.”

“What does that mean?” Kevin gets no answer as the Foxes break off, all talking excitedly about skiing. He looks at Aaron, who is lingering like a silent storm cloud at his side. “Do you know what that means?”

“It’s the shape of the skis.” Aaron holds his two pointer fingers up. “Fries is when they’re parallel. Pizza is a triangle.”

He tilts his fingers in so the tips touch together, forming a triangle. It makes sense now that someone has taken the time to explain. Kevin supposes it’s probably obvious, but he hadn’t considered the shape of a pizza slice. He tends to think circle when it comes to pizza. Aaron doesn’t look irritated by his ignorance. Well, no more than the base level of annoyed Aaron always looks. Kevin appreciates this. Appreciates that he is patient enough to explain when Kevin doesn’t get things, even if they feel like they should be obvious.

“Have you been skiing before?”

“Oh yeah, my mom used to take me all the time.”

“Really?” Kevin’s brow furrows. That doesn’t sound like the idea of the twins’ mother that he has.

“Yeah. Every summer, when we holidayed at our villa in the alps.”

“Oh.” Kevin realises Aaron is being sarcastic. “Ha ha.”

Aaron heaves a sigh and hoists his bag up, trailing towards the elevators. The rest of the Foxes have already piled on, but Matt holds the door for them. They stop at a few different floors, filtering off to their rooms, until it is just Aaron and Kevin left. Once they get off on their floor, they have to follow the corridor right down to the end. Aaron slides his keycard through the door and shoulders it open, pausing in the doorway.

“Holy shit.” He drops his bag by the door and jogs across the room. Kevin steps in after him, to find Aaron looking out the massive window dominating one wall, overlooking a view of the slopes. It’s a stunning view, a door in the centre of it opening onto a balcony. Kevin leaves his own bag and crosses the room. He stands beside Aaron. The sunlight reflecting off the snow makes everything brilliantly bright. Kevin has seen a lot of outdoor spaces by now, but this, this is so starkly different from the Nest. There’s a sense of irony in them using a place like this as the excuse for his hand.

Aaron tires of the view first, turning away from the window. He pads across the room and then Kevin hears the noise of his body thumping down on the bed.

“I think we’re safe,” Aaron says. “You could fit us in this three times over.”

It says a lot for how taken they were with the view that they missed the bed at first glance, because it really is quite sizable.

“Do you have a side preference?” Aaron sits up, moving to the edge of the bed. Kevin shakes his head. Aaron indicates the right side, the side furthest from the window. “Can I have this one?”

“Sure.”

“Or I could probably sleep over there.” There’s not a couch in the room, but there’s a sunken seating area around a faux fireplace heater that is layered with cushions. “We could just ask for another blanket.”

“It’s fine. Like you said, the bed is massive. No big deal, right?”

“Sure.”

If Kevin’s entirely honest, he’s actually glad things have worked out the way that they have. He did a fair display of bitching for show, but he didn’t love the idea of being alone in a room by himself. He probably would have spent very little time in the room; going to bother Andrew or Neil, or Aaron and Nicky if Andrew and Neil were busy. Which would have been a waste when Allison has clearly splashed out to get him such a nice room. He should probably get her something in return. Neither of them are very good at expressing care with words, but they both know money talks.

Aaron has collected his bag from by the door and is unpacking it. He hangs some of his clothes up, folds others in the drawer. Kevin doesn’t really think about unpacking on vacation. It’s like travelling for away games. It’s just easier to live out of his suitcase. Though he’s not usually in hotels for as long as they’re going to be here. A whole week.

“Do you wanna hang your stuff up too? There’s plenty of hangers left.”

“Sure,” Kevin says with a sigh. “Might as well.”

Kevin’s surprisingly achy when he gets back from their first ski lesson. He knows he’s more than fairly fit, but he’s spent the day using his muscles in a way he’s not used to. On top of that, despite the sun blazing down on them, it’s still cold. His hand is aching a bit from it, but not enough to impact its use. Meanwhile Aaron seems chilled to the bone. They all wore ugly puffy snowsuits, but Aaron layered clothes beneath his, wore a beanie under his hood. When they stopped in the lounge for hot chocolates afterwards, Aaron sat so close to the big fireplace Kevin was concerned his snowsuit might catch fire. He clutched his mug to his chest, leaning his face over the steam, trembling.

Even now, he’s still shaking every so often. Kevin lets him have first shower. Aaron spends a long time in the bathroom, and when he comes out he’s flushed red. Kevin finds the room full of steam from the sheer heat Aaron must have been showering at. When he finishes his own shower, Aaron is wearing a sweater over his pyjamas and sitting close to the faux fireplace. Kevin doesn’t understand. To him the heat in the room feels comfortable. He pulls on a pair of shorts and a shirt more from consideration than any real need for them.

It’s not long before they start to crash out from their long day. They spend the better part of an hour doing their own things: Aaron playing his games sitting as close to the fireplace as he can, Kevin reading a book in bed until his eyes get bleary. When he switches off his lamp, Aaron also moves to get into bed, removing his sweater. The bed is so big that though Kevin feels the vibration of the blanket moving on Aaron’s side, the lift of it doesn’t even disturb his side. Aaron slips in and curls into a ball. He tugs his side of the blanket right up to his chin, tucking it in around his face. After a moment, Kevin hears the swishing noise of his feet moving beneath the blanket, rubbing against each other. He closes his eyes, tiredness weighing down on him. He’s close to the precipice when he feels Aaron shiver, a slight tremble running through the mattress from the movement.

“How are you cold?” Kevin mumbles. He’s got the blanket at his waist, the heat of the room enough for him.

“I just am.”

“It’s basically stuffy in here.”

“We’re not all human furnaces.”

“Mmph.” Kevin rolls over to face Aaron. He can’t see him in the dark, but he knows the vague space he takes up. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Isn’t body heat like the quickest way to warm up?”

“Fuck off. I’m not going to cuddle with you. I’m fine.”

“Whatever.” Kevin tucks one of his arms under his pillow, burrowing his face into it. The pillows are fat, plush, incredibly soft. The bed is perhaps the most comfortable one he’s ever laid in. He closes his eyes. He has almost fallen asleep again when he swears he can hear Aaron’s teeth chatter this time. “Aaron.”

“What?” Aaron’s voice is sharp, vicious. Defensive.

“Just fucking come here if you’re cold. We don’t even have to touch, but surely being closer will let the heat build up faster.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Well I can’t sleep with all the shivering.”

“Bullshit. You could sleep through a volcanic eruption.”

Kevin thinks that is probably hyperbole, but he has been known to sleep through quite a lot. If he fell asleep, he probably would sleep through all of Aaron’s shivering and teeth chattering, but it’s hard to fully relax when he can tell Aaron is so cold beside him.

“A volcanic eruption would be less annoying.”

He feels the blanket shift and hears the sound of movement beneath it. Aaron huffs.

“Did you just try to kick me but your little legs can’t make it across the bed?”

“Fuck you.”

Kevin laughs. Aaron gets out of the bed, throwing the blanket back dramatically. Kevin hears his footsteps move through the room, the soft curse as he stubs his toe on something.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to sleep in the stupid cushion pit thing so you can’t blame me for keeping you awake.”

“You’ll be more cold. You don’t even have a blanket. Come back.” Kevin waits. Aaron doesn’t answer him. “Aaron, get back in the bed.”

He hears a soft huff from across the room. Kevin takes a long inhale, raising his eyes to the ceiling. Aaron is so fucking stubborn. Kevin wonders what would get him to come to bed. He considers just going to sleep and letting him sulk in the cold, but apparently skiing has unveiled a sympathetic conscience in him. Or maybe that’s reserved solely for Aaron.

“Do you want me to go ask at the desk if they have a hot water bottle or something?”

“No.”

“It’s a fancy hotel. They might have electric blankets.”

“No. We don’t need to make a fuss.”

“Then stop making a fuss and come back to bed.”

There’s a drawn out sigh across the room, then the slow patter of feet back towards the bed. Aaron’s pretence of stoicism shatters when he dives for the bed, burrowing under the blankets again. Kevin lies back down, shifting further across the bed.

“Stay on your own side,” Aaron says sternly. Kevin exhales loudly, but obediently flops back to his side. He gives up. Let Aaron freeze for all he cares, Kevin is too tired to keep arguing in circles with him. He looks off towards the wall of windows. The curtains are drawn, but there’s a dark blue glow from around them. Kevin’s heavy eyes close on him. He intends to reopen them, but they simply refuse to cooperate.

Kevin is not usually the first to wake in the morning. Even when he’s supposed to be up, it often takes him a long time to drag himself from sleep. He thinks it’s the stifling heat that has him groggily tripping into consciousness this morning. His body is sticky with sweat, his shirt clinging to his back. Helplessly, Kevin kicks the blanket down from the left side of his body. There’s a warm presence on his right side, and when he forces his sticky eyes open, he realises it’s Aaron. He’s shifted closer during the night. He is still curled into himself, his forehead near Kevin’s bicep, but he’s sleeping a lot more peacefully than last night. No shivering in sight. In fact, there’s a pleasant looking flush across his cheeks.

Kevin turns his head. He watches Aaron with sleepy contentment for a few moments. It is strange to see him so relaxed; all the harsh lines of his expression softened out in sleep. His lips are just barely parted, his eyelashes fluttering every so often. He makes a soft sound in his sleep and shifts further forward, his forehead actually pressing to Kevin’s skin. Kevin feels his heart stutter over a beat. Aaron makes another soft sound and Kevin quickly closes his eyes, pretends to be asleep before he is caught staring.

He doesn’t know if Aaron does wake up, because he very quickly actually does fall asleep again, and next time he stirs, Aaron is already up and dressed for the day.

Kevin is starting to think skiing is perhaps not for him. There’s just. So much to consider. In ways he does not usually have to consider moving his body. He is determined to at least be passable at it though, and so he stubbornly sticks at it, even if he has yet to qualify from the bunny slopes. Irritatingly Neil seems to be taking to it with a natural grace Kevin does not possess. Aaron is much more fearless in his efforts, but he’s started to express an interest in snowboarding instead, chatting at length with the instructor.

“Well, I don’t usually mix snowboarding with the ski lessons, but if you wanna hang around for a bit afterwards, I’ll give you a go on my board.”

“Yeah?” Aaron grins. Kevin imagines a very small and purposefully targeted avalanche taking out their ski instructor. This thought brings him some joy and comfort until he ends up having a fall. Neil laughs as he whizzes past. Aaron stops to help haul Kevin up out of the snow. “Okay?”

“Sure. It’s just snow.”

Aaron gives Kevin a flat look in response to his tone. His face is incredibly pink. Nose and cheeks raw. He looks cherubic. Kevin wants to push him over into the snow.

“Whatever.” Aaron pushes off and skids down the slope after Neil. Kevin glances back at the ski instructor, sending him a glare for good measure, before he follows the others. Andrew is watching from the lounge window. Neil managed to talk him into trying the slopes yesterday, but he enjoys the cold even less than Aaron. Instead he’s drinking his weight in hot chocolate. Kevin would complain about it if he thought it would do any good, but he knows Andrew simply won’t listen to him.

They have dinner together. Aaron asks the server if they can have a table near a fire or a radiator, and then presses his chair right up against said radiator when they do sit. He rubs his hands together beneath the table. Kevin has a wild impulse to reach over and take them in his. He keeps his hands to himself.

“How did your snowboarding go?” Kevin tries to keep his voice even, not looking at Aaron.

“It was great. Cam’s lending me a board to try on the slopes tomorrow. I think it’s easier, not having to focus on two skis and poles.”

“That’s nice of him,” Kevin says, in a tone that suggests Cam has committed war crimes.

“I mean, I guess he just has access to the lodge equipment. I don’t think it’s his board or anything.”

“Hm.” Kevin pops the menu up in front of his face so Aaron can’t see his unimpressed scowl.

They gather in the hot tub that night for drinks. Kevin’s not drinking, but he tags along since he doesn’t want to be in the room by himself, and the hot water is pleasant on his aching muscles. Andrew and Neil set up camp on a couch nearby, under a shared blanket. Andrew is still drinking hot chocolate, though it could be spiked, but since neither Neil or Renee are drinking, Kevin feels less left out. Renee has even ordered them matching mocktails. Kevin had some concerns about the sugar levels in the drink, but since she took the effort to consider him, he keeps his mouth shut for once.

Aaron submerges right down in the water, just leaving his nose up to breathe. He glares at Allison when she makes a joke about his height, but doesn’t argue. Kevin knows it’s probably more to do with the cold that he hasn’t seemed to be able to shake from his bones since they got here. He sits beside Aaron as everyone else is coupled up, tries to ignore the way their arms and thighs are brushing together as Aaron’s endeavour to not touch Matt sitting on his other side drives him into Kevin’s space. Kevin tries not to think about the fact Aaron doesn’t seem to mind touching him. He steals carefully timed glances at the freckles on Aaron’s strong shoulders, doesn’t let himself look for more than a handful of seconds.

Aaron’s actually one of the first to retreat, once Andrew and Neil wander off together. Kevin can see him building himself up for the transition from warm water to frigid night air. He swings out of the hot tub and immediately wraps himself in a big towel. There’s some protest from Nicky about Aaron being a spoilsport, but Kevin is glad that he can also use that as an excuse to go back to their room. Aaron has another hot blast in the shower before getting dressed for bed. He keeps a hoodie on over his pyjamas and climbs right into bed, cycling his legs beneath the duvet as Kevin goes to the bathroom to carry out his own bedtime routine.

“Insisting on staying all the way over there again?”

“Yes,” Aaron says, and clicks off the light. Kevin huffs in irritation, turning on his lamp so he can read a chapter before bed.

Aaron is asleep by the time he sets his book down, curled tight into a ball, the odd shiver still running through him. Kevin puts his hand to his back, featherlight, barely touching him for fear of waking him. He feels the next tremor to course through Aaron’s body. Kevin sighs and moves closer. He pulls the duvet up, tucking it in tight around Aaron, then lies with his back facing him, only a couple of inches between them, in the hopes it will help build some heat up.

Kevin may not be a pro skier anytime soon, but he thinks he’s finally getting the hang of staying upright. He’s even been set loose from the bunny slopes. He and Aaron ride the ski elevator up to one of the bigger slopes. Kevin looks to the sky because looking at the distance between his feet and the ground is making him anxious. Aaron is constant movement, looking over the side, around them, leaning forward to look down between their legs. Kevin curls his hands into fists around his poles to resist the urge to grip Aaron’s ski suit in case he falls.

“We have to be ready to go once we get up here,” Aaron says.

“I know.”

“Go, Kevin.”

“I am,” Kevin snaps, while he is actually definitely not doing that.

“Go.”

“Give me a second.”

“No time. Let’s go.” Aaron pushes him off as Kevin’s air catches in his lungs. He stumbles, but Aaron steadies him as he plops down beside him, wobbling on the snowboard Cam lent him.

“I was getting there!”

“You can’t hesitate like that,” Aaron says, and starts to slide away from Kevin. He reaches up to fix his ski goggles over his eyes, flips Kevin off, and then starts to speed down the slope. Kevin is much slower, but he follows.

After dinner that night, they gather for drinks again. This time just in the lodge bar, seated close to the fire. There’s too many of them for the size of the couches. Aaron ends up crammed between Kevin and the arm of the couch. At first any contact seems to be solely due to the lack of space, but after Aaron has a few drinks, Kevin feels like he’s leaning into him more. He wonders if he’s just projecting his thoughts onto the situation as he nurses one drink.

Despite the handful of drinks Aaron has, and the multiple rounds of shots he partakes in with Nicky and Matt, he’s steady on his feet as they make their way back to the room. Though it does take him two attempts to get the keycard to open the door. Kevin had hoped at least the alcohol might warm him, but tonight the shivering is worse than ever once they’re settled in bed. Rather than the occasional burst of it, it's constant, accompanied by Aaron’s shaky breathing. He’s fully burrowed under the blanket tonight too, only a tuft of blonde hair visible before Kevin hits off the lamp.

“Aaron,” he says, after listening to this for what feels like a small eternity.

“What?”

“Your stubbornness is getting ridiculous. Come here.”

“Fine.”

Kevin expects Aaron to simply shuffle across to the centre of the bed, so they can share the same cavern beneath the blanket, rather than being in their own separate caves. He’s therefore surprised when Aaron slides across and collides with his chest. Rather than back up, Aaron burrows closer. He tucks his hands to his chest between them instead of draping them around Kevin, but they’re still definitely verging on an embrace. Kevin is still for a moment, scarcely daring to breathe. Aaron shivers. Kevin automatically wraps his arms around him. He hugs Aaron to his chest, rubbing a hand up and down his back. Aaron is tense in his hold for several long seconds before he relaxes with a sigh. He tucks his socked feet between Kevin’s calves, and slowly the trembling of his body subsides.

Kevin waits until Aaron is breathing softly. He noses at the front of his hair, pushing it back until he can rest his lips against Aaron’s forehead. It’s not a kiss. He does not purse his lips. His mouth just lingers against Aaron’s forehead. Kevin breathes in the scent of his hair. It’s the musky scent of the lodge’s shampoo, not the sharp smell of mint and tea tree oil Aaron's usual shampoo smells like. Part of Kevin is disappointed. That when he has this chance he’s not getting to breathe the authentic Aaron Minyard smell. Mostly he’s just enjoying the weight of Aaron in his arms before he falls asleep.

“Get off me. Kevin!”

Kevin wakes to Aaron shoving at his shoulder. They’ve shifted during the night. Aaron has ended up on his back, with Kevin splayed across his chest, face burrowed into the side of Aaron’s neck. He grumbles, scarcely awake. Aaron is warm, and Kevin likes Aaron. He does not like being awake right now. He does not want to be awake. He wants to be sleeping on his Aaron pillow. He tries to nuzzle closer to him.

“Kevin. I told you I wasn’t going to fuckin’ cuddle you.”

“You’re the one that started it,” Kevin mumbles, words slurring into a yawn. Aaron goes very still, probably pouring back over the memory of last night. Good. He remembers then. He can stop blaming Kevin. “Didn’t you sleep better?”

“That’s not the point.”

“How is it not?”

“This is weird. We don’t do this.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It is! It’s… we don’t do this.”

“How’s it weird?”

“It’s weird because we do not do this, Kevin. Get off me.” Aaron pushes at him until Kevin does shift off him with a grumble. Aaron immediately pushes himself to the far side of the bed. Kevin thinks he’s being needlessly dramatic, but it’s also too early for Kevin to be having many thoughts on anything, so he only rolls over and settles down to go back to sleep.

Aaron is already at breakfast when Kevin gets down. He’s sitting at a table with Cam, talking animatedly about something, smiling and laughing. Kevin very much does not like that. It is so rare for Aaron to openly express his emotions like that. Kevin sees it, every so often, but it took a long time before Aaron let his guards down around him like that, and it’s not always a common occurrence. Kevin hates that this random ski instructor gets to see this side of Aaron within only a few days. He hasn’t put in the hours!

Kevin could sit with Andrew and Neil. He sees them come through the door as he’s carrying his plate down. Neil talking away to a sleep ruffled Andrew who looks barely more awake than Kevin feels. Kevin does not sit with them. He pretends not to see them, walking down to Aaron’s table and setting his plate down firm enough that it bangs against the table. Aaron starts, even though he saw Kevin walking over. Right. He doesn’t react well to sudden loud noises. Shit. Kevin forgot about that in his irritation. Aaron glares at him. He was not glaring at Cam. Kevin suddenly feels a lot less apologetic about the plate slam.

“Heya Kevin, how are the bigger slopes treatin’ ya?” Cam looks at Kevin with a toothy grin. Kevin looks back at him with hollow eyes and hopes he chokes on the bacon that is definitely not an ideal breakfast for someone working an active job.

“Fine.”

“When he can get off the ski lift,” Aaron says, huffing in amusement. Kevin sends him a dark side glance.

“Ah yeah, it can be intimidating getting off the lifts at the start.”

“I’m not intimidated,” Kevin grits out. Cam gives him a consoling smile as he stands, lifting his plate.

“I’ll leave the board out for you again Aaron.”

“Great, thanks.” Aaron grins up at Cam. Big enough to show off his dimple.

Kevin stabs his eggs with more force than necessary.

That night Aaron sleeps curled stubbornly on his side of the bed.

“Bet you’d cuddle with Cam,” Kevin mutters bitterly.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Aaron is by the faux fireplace in the morning. He’s wearing a hoodie over his sweater, and is so close to the heater he’s almost touching it. Kevin groggily makes his way over, collapsing into the pile of cushions. His muscles are loud about their discomfort today and there is a twinge of pain in his left hand. He thinks he might skip the slopes.

“How are you so cold all the time?”

“Bad circulation.” Aaron shrugs. “It’s like once the cold gets into me it’s hard to get it out again. It’s okay when I’m moving around, generating heat, but once I stop I feel it.”

“It’s not usually this bad.”

“I’m not usually spending all day out in the snow.”

“Fair.” Kevin catches his left hand in his right, rubbing his thumb over it.

“Does your hand hurt?”

“It’s fine.”

“Is it really fine or is it Neil Josten fine?”

“I’ll manage.”

“Josten fine then. Did you bring your brace?”

“No.”

“Right. Why would you bring your brace?”

“I didn’t know I would need it.”

“Because it’s not like your hand hurts every year when the temperature drops”

“I’ll survive, but I think I’ll skip the slopes today.”

“There’s a town not far from here. We could go check it out.”

Kevin blinks, surprised. He hadn’t expected Aaron to stick with him if he passed up on skiing. Aaron seems to be enjoying being out in the snow far more than him.

“Uh. Sure,” Kevin says, and Aaron may be struggling to build heat, but Kevin’s face feels plenty warm.

Everyone decides they’ll go into town today when Kevin mentions their plans. He’s a touch annoyed. He kind of wanted it to be just him and Aaron, but they scatter into different groups once they get into the town anyway, breaking off to explore the shops. Kevin spends the morning wandering around the tourist shops full of homemade trinkets or mass produced fridge magnets with Aaron, but he loses track of him after lunch.

“Here,” Aaron says when he reappears, handing Kevin a support bandage. “Put that on.”

“Where did you get this?”

“I had to look for the local pharmacy. It’s way on the other side of town. I fucking hiked to get you that, so you had better wear it.”

Kevin hates wearing a support. Hates admitting he needs it. Hates the reminder of his injury.

He puts it on with no fuss.

As the sun sinks towards the horizon and they get ready to head back to the lodge, Kevin shrugs off his coat and puts it over Aaron.

“You’ll get cold.”

“I’m fine. I’m actually sweating, but you’re shivering already.”

Aaron glances warily at the others, but the allure of Kevin’s lingering body heat in the coat must be too much to resist. He pulls it on over his own coat and zips it right up to his chin. Andrew is staring at them. Kevin pretends not to see.

Aaron is sitting in the cushion pit. A lot of the others have gone to the hot tub again, but Aaron passed up, so Kevin did too.

“It’s nice until you have to get out of it,” Aaron had said. Kevin doesn’t really care about that, but he was tired and had already spent all day with the group. He wanted the quiet peace of their room.

He drags the duvet off the bed and brings it over to the cushion pit, spreading it over them. Aaron glances up from playing his Switch. Kevin settles down beside him with his book. Aaron readjusts the blanket, a small smile on his face. Kevin lifts his book higher to hide his own smile.

When Kevin wakes up it takes him a moment to realise where he is. He and Aaron must have fallen asleep by the faux fireplace. Aaron is curled against his side. Kevin stretches out his back with a whine. He wants to just wrap himself around Aaron and go back to sleep, but now that he’s woken up, the lamp being on is annoying him, and he’s aware of how stiff his back feels. Forcing himself up, Kevin moves his book and Aaron’s Switch aside. He turns off the faux fireplace. He moves the duvet back to the bed.

Aaron’s brow is furrowed when Kevin comes back to him. Kevin wonders if he’s missing his sources of heat. He crouches down and carefully slides his arms under Aaron’s neck and legs, then hoists him up. He pauses once he’s got Aaron in his arms, scarcely daring to breathe. Aaron sleeps a lot lighter than him. Kevin’s not sure how he’ll respond if he wakes up to this. Thankfully, Aaron just turns his face to Kevin’s shoulder with a soft sound.

Kevin carries him carefully across to bed and lays him down on his side. He pulls the blanket up over Aaron, goes to brush his teeth, then crawls into the other side of the bed. Aaron makes a whiny sound of protest in his sleep as the bed shifts. He rolls towards Kevin, hand reaching across the distance between them. When it catches the material of Kevin’s shirt, Aaron tugs weakly. Kevin is weaker than Aaron’s sleepy grip, immediately moving across towards him.

“Mm.” Aaron nuzzles his face against Kevin’s shoulder. Kevin once again holds his breath until he’s sure Aaron is asleep.

He wakes in the morning to Aaron rubbing his thumbs over Kevin’s hand. Kevin’s left arm is draped over Aaron’s waist, and Aaron has his hand between his, massaging around the scar. Kevin goes still for a moment as he processes what’s happening, then melts against Aaron’s back, pretending to be asleep. Aaron felt the tension in him though. He goes still in response, dropping Kevin’s hand. Kevin whines, tightening his arm around Aaron’s chest.

“Kevin?” Aaron whispers. He sounds mortified.

“Mm?” Kevin noses at the back of Aaron’s head, his hair tickling his face. When Aaron tries to wriggle away, Kevin holds him in place.

“Stop.”

“Why?”

“It’s weird.”

“Why?”

“We don’t-”

“What if we did?”

“What?” Aaron stops squirming, going completely still again.

“What if we did? Feels nice. You sleep better when you’re warm. No one can see us.”

“So what, I’m your dirty little secret?”

“What? No. You’re the one being weird about it.”

“Because it is weird.”

“Mmm not.” Kevin presses his face against Aaron’s hair. He didn’t wash it last night. It's sweaty from being under his beanie yesterday, a human scent that Kevin enjoys. His hand rests on Aaron’s stomach, feeling it shift with each of his breaths.

“I don’t cuddle with people I’m not-” Aaron tries to roll towards Kevin, but they both freeze when his hip brushes against Kevin’s half hard morning wood. This time it is Kevin who recoils across the bed.

“Sorry. It’s not- That’s not-” Embarrassment makes him angry and defensive. “I can’t help it!”

“I know,” Aaron says, his expression warring between amused and appalled.

“You know?”

“Yeah, obviously I know.”

“Oh.” Kevin swallows hard. “Is that why it’s weird?”

“What?”

“The… this. The bed. The cuddling. It’s weird because I like you?”

“You what?” Aaron sits up abruptly, the duvet falling around his waist.

“You just said you knew!”

“I know you can’t control your morning erection! It’s a testosterone surge. I didn’t mean- You don’t like me.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You can’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do!”

“Why? Why would you-? Why?”

“Because!”

“Wow. Clarifying. Thank you so much, Kevin Day.”

“I wasn’t going to tell you. You tricked me.”

“How did I trick you?”

“You said you knew.”

“How would I know that?”

“I don’t know! You know things. You just do. You’re smart and observant like that. You knew where the pharmacy was.”

“I used Google!”

“Ugh. Whatever. Pretend this conversation never happened.” This time it is Kevin who pulls the duvet over his head. Maybe he can suffocate himself with it. After a pause that seems to last five years, the blanket moves. Kevin expects Aaron to get out of bed, but instead he joins him under the blanket, their breath shared in the space between them.

“What if I don’t want to?”

“What?”

“Pretend this conversation never happened.”

“What?”

Aaron huffs. He reaches out and touches Kevin’s cheek. He looks at him in a way Kevin can just tell means this okay? Kevin does his best to return a look that says yeah yep cool awesome not really sure what’s happening but keep touching my face. Aaron must interpret some positive reinforcement from that expression, because he leans in across the space and kisses Kevin firmly on the mouth. Aaron draws back slowly, but Kevin is already addicted. He surges after him, pushes Aaron onto his back, uses his body as an additional layer of heat as he leans over Aaron and determines to find out what his tongue piercing feels like against Kevin’s tongue.

“That’s Ursa Major,” Aaron says, pointing up. They’re on the love seat on the balcony. It’s the first time they’ve actually come out to it. Aaron is wearing Kevin’s hoodie over his own. He’s sitting sideways on the seat, legs over Kevin’s thighs. Kevin has wrapped the blanket around them as they look up at the stars together, breath fogging on the air.

“Isn’t that the Big Dipper?”

“The Big Dipper is part of Ursa Major. It’s the back of the torso, and that long bit is the tail. Though it’s longer than bears’ tails generally are.”

“Oh wait, I know the myth about that. In Greek mythology it is the constellation of Callisto. She had a shit time.”

“Most women in mythology do.”

“She was a devoted follower of Artemis. One of the myths says Zeus disguised himself as Artemis to seduce her.”

“Swell guy, Zeus.”

“She became pregnant. Lost her place in Artemis’ hunters. As with all of Zeus’ affairs, Hera was furious. Turned Callisto into a bear. When her son Arcas grew up, he almost killed her while out hunting. To save her, Zeus threw her into the sky by her tail. That’s why it's stretched out.”

“Obviously,” Aaron says. After a moment, he adds: “One of Jupiter’s moons is called Callisto.”

“Jupiter was the Roman name for Zeus.”

“It all comes full circle.”

“What are the others called?”

“Jupiter has 95 moons.”

“Yes. That sounds like Zeus.” Kevin smiles when Aaron huffs at his joke.

“There’s four main ones. The other three are Io, Europa, and Ganymede.”

“All named for his lovers.”

“It’s cool how much impact mythology still has on our world.”

“It is cool!” Kevin sits up so excitedly he almost knocks Aaron off his lap. He grabs him in time, and Aaron in turn grabs the blanket when Kevin’s movement almost flings it off them. “On the way we understand the world, on the structures of storytelling we employ, even in the language we still use today! Like, so much of our etymology is inspired by the Hellenes-”

Aaron gently shifts Kevin’s gesticulating arms enough that he can rest his head against his shoulder. He doesn’t interrupt him, just nestles himself closer, making encouraging humming sounds as Kevin continues to ramble about different words that can be traced back to Greek myths. It is only when Aaron starts to shiver against him that Kevin stops. He bundles Aaron up in the blanket and carries him inside, spilling him out on their bed, where they’ve spent the last couple of nights of their vacation tangled up in each other. Kevin’s going to miss it after tonight, but one benefit of the dorm beds is that they are so small Aaron will have no choice but to cuddle up with Kevin when they share one.

#kevaaron #fox fics

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chuuyaspinkmotorcycle16 · 1 month ago

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Day 7: Alcohol of @/Black00Cat’s (twt) SKKtober

Dazai knows the phases of Chuuya’s alcohol intake (see: Book 7 of Dazai Osamu’s Grievances against Nakahara Chuuya) like the back of his hand.

Can picture them so clearly that it’s a movie playing in his head, each detail highlighted in his mind’s eye.

And yet he never imagined a scenario like this in all his daydreams of how to kill Chuuya.

No, no, it seems Chuuya has accepted Dazai’s proposal of double suicide in the worst way possible.

The slug? On his unknown number of glasses of wine, absolutely plastered. And Dazai? He’s feeling his soul leave his body thanks to Chuuya, who has decided his preferred seat for the evening is Dazai’s lap.

The worst part? They’re out with their coworkers, a celebration for another joint mission done well. Woohoo…

“Chibi,” Dazai hisses into Chuuya’s ear for the nth time. He’s tried pushing his dog off — did not work, earned a punch — he’s tried squeezing Chuuya enough to annoy him — did not work, the brat got even more comfortable — and now he’s been pestering him to gain his attention.

Which, for the record, has not been working, much to Dazai’s, and everyone else’s, unfortunately growing horror.

Chuuya continues to blab to Yosano and Ranpo, the only ones not in a state of shock throughout this, giving them a plethora of gossip to talk (and tease) about later.

“How much did you let him drink?” Kouyou glares at Dazai, tone telling Dazai all he needs to know about how fucked he is for this.

“Me? Ane-san’s the one that usually stops him,” Dazai argues back. He steels himself as Chuuya shifts around before deciding his shoulder is the perfect pillow. Dazai’s just praying he’ll knock out soon.

Distantly, he registers Yosano and Ranpo whispering to each other but the threat of Kouyou takes his foremost attention.

She opens her mouth to say something, likely a threat in the form of death by sword, but Atsushi speaks up, voice hesitant.

“I mean, at least he’s not hurting anyone.”

Dazai rounds on Atsushi, mouthing ‘Me! He’s hurting me!’ — specifically his pride — at the boy.

Atsushi, the traitor, merely shrugs.

Dazai’s movement from earlier had roused Chuuya off his upper body, and soon a weak punch is thrown at his shoulder with a growl.

Drastic times call for drastic measures.

Dazai never wanted it to really come to this but—

“Akutagawa-kun~” He throws his most charming (read: threatening) smile at the man.

Beside the raven-haired, Atsushi gets ready to tell Dazai off but a quiet ‘ahem’ draws his attention.

Akutagawa, with a glance at Chuuya, meets Dazai’s eyes to deliver “Unlike you, Dazai-san, I do value my life,” sealing the brunet’s fate.

All Dazai can do in his shock is mutter, “You’ve been hanging out with Atsushi-kun too much.”

Dazai chooses to ignore Atsushi’s protest of “Isn’t that our assignment?”, instead turning his attention to Kunikida—

who gives him the most adamant death stare with a shake of a head he’s ever gotten from the man.

Lovely.

“Yosano-sen—“

“The night’s still young! What do you guys say to a game~?” The doctor asks, the glint in her eye telling Dazai he is truly fucked.

“Mr. Fancy Hat~! Truth or dare?” And there’s no chance to even bribe Ranpo to help Dazai out before Chuuya is sitting up straight, determined to overcome his

“Dare.”

Maybe Dazai’s had too many to drink too because he’s unable to control his heartbeat in this moment.

“Kiss him.” Ranpo smirks.

Dazai isn’t able to protest with who exactly “him” is before lips are all over his, the taste of wine taking over all of his taste buds.

Thinking back on this night, he vaguely heard hollers and hoots and laughs. Presently, though, all he can hear is his heart in his ears as red hair takes over his vision.

He’s sure his face is red — and he really hopes he can blame it on the alcohol.

He can’t pull away — Chuuya’s making sure of that with the vice grip he has on his shoulders — and he can’t lean into it because these are his coworkers, for crying out loud.

As the need for air nears, some divine being out there must take pity on Dazai.

Chuuya pops off with a lick of his lips — that Dazai can’t help but stare at — and promptly passes out.

Dazai catches him from falling off without thinking. And before he can stop himself, he hisses out, “You’re so fucking dumb!”

The only reason he braves looking up is the stash of money that crosses the corner of his vision.

“I hate all of you.” He glares as he watches their bets pass around, Yosano and Ranpo the clear victors.

“No, you don’t,” Yosano replies back with a wink as she counts her earnings.

/No, I don’t,/ Dazai can’t help himself from thinking as his eyes wander back down to the sleeping beauty in his arms, completely out as he probably dreams about dogs, bringing a smile to Dazai’s face, even if drool is already threatening to drip onto his shoulder.

God, Dazai really is pathetically down-bad, isn’t he?

#soukoku #dazai x chuuya #skktober #day 7 #malaikawrites #skk

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romanarose · 3 months ago

Text

For the Longest Time: Chloe's birth

Will Miller x fem!OC (Lorelei Giang)

Summary: Lorelei gives birth to their daughter

Warnings: Childbirth, typical Lore and WIll back and forth

Series MAsterlist (series is completed, will comtinue soon with Ben's story.)

Masterlist : Triple Frontier Masterlist :Playlist

*************

She was going to fucking kill him.

Lorelei had told Will over and over again, she wasn't going to really need him for much with the birth. She'd assisted in hundreds of births, she knew the drill. She was going be fine. Everything was normal in her pregnancy, absolutely no cause for concern, and her epidural had kicked in. Her mom, of course, had words to say about getting an epidural but she didn't give a shit. Mirical of childbirth, the pain is worth it, natural, all that is fine and dandy if you're into it, but Lorelei just wanted her dughter here and painlessly as possible. It seemed Chloe Sen was not an axious to come, however, and took and extra 4 days past her due dare to cook to the perfect medium rare, Lorelei supossed.

Lorelei had been confined to paperwork by this point, her swollen ankles having caused issues the last month and now... well Frankly she was waddling. So, desk work and intake it was.

When her water finally broke, she was at work and called Will.

"Hey princess, everything okay?" Will answered, his mouth full of food. She heard Santi in the background, which explained the food; Laci was always feeding them.

"Yeah I'm fine, just my water broke."

"WHat?!"

"Yeah I'm going into labor, I need you to get my bag-"

"IM COMING RIGHT OVER"

She sighed, listening to him tell Laci and Santi it was time, and hearing Laci squeel in the background. "No, William, baby I'm fine but I need my to go bag-"

"I'll have Santi get it, I'm picking you up we have to go to a hospital!"

"William."

"Yeah?"

"I'm at work."

"I know, that's why I'm coming to get you-"

"Baby I work in a hospital."

She had Will run home seeing as he was a 5 minute drive from their house anyway, then get to the hospital where now they sat, contractions speeding up. Will was hovering and it was driving her nuts. His role was to put on her playlist: Buddy Holly, Ella Fitzgarald, the Shrangri-la's, Humphrey Englebert, all her favorites, and advocate for her that the birth plan was being followed. Other than that, she was certain she'd be fine.

Still, the constant talking, petting her, cooing at her like a baby and telling her how good she's doing was driving up insane.

"Breath in."

"Will"

"Breath out."

"William, I will start screaming."

"Well, at least scream when I say out."

That got a laugh out of her, she'd admit. But she still turned to him. "If you don't stop telling me what to do, I swear to god I will have you removed from this room."

She wouldn't do that to actually, and he knew that, but Will raised his hands, chuckling in defense. "Fine, fine. Just promise to breath."

Two hours later she was breathing alright. She was breathing as she screamed curses at him. "I SWEAR TO GOD YOU ARE NEVER FUCKING ME AGAIN! FUCKING ASSHOLE!" Why did she had to get knocked up by a fucking norse god? Kid's head was ripping her open. Jesus, why didn't she get an elective c-section. So many poor choices.

"I know Lorelei, I'm the worse. Tell me all about it." His even voice was something to latch onto through the pain. What the fuck was this without an epidural?

"YOU AND YOUR STUPID MASSIVE GENES!"

"Yes yes, definetly my fault. What else."

"YOUR SO FUCKING POLITE!"

"Women do complain about that aspect frequently. I'm working on it."

"I AM GOING TO CUT OFF YOUR DICK!"

There was a pause as she pushed, the head crowning.

"Princess?"

"WHAT?!?!?!?!"

His fingers grazed her knuckles, and she realized her nails were digging into her palms. She turned to him, looking at his handsome, beautiful face and soft blue eyes. God she got lucky to find someone who knows when to match her crazy and when to calm it. Imagine if she'd getting pregnant by Tyler? He'd probably be watching porn on his phone like she caught one baby daddy doing. "Can I hold your hand?"

Lorelei's lip quivered as she nodded. Will took her hand in his, squeezing for dear life as a big contraction hit. She liked hearing his voice praising her. She needed him, and always would, and for some reason that didn't scare her.

She was perfect. Born at an insane 9 pounds even, Chloe Sen Miller was the cutest little thing Lorelei had ever seen in her life. Lore and Will were squeezed onto the bed together, Will holding the baby after Lorelei had gotten her share. She laid her head on his shoulder, ready to nap. He had this. She trusted him.

"She's so small..." He murders, mesmerized by his daughter. Lorelei laughs.

"yeah to you. You didn't have to push her out."

Will turned to her at that, smiling fondly. "You were incredible."

"I know." She kissed his arm. "But thank you."

"I'll tell them to go home. I know they just wanna make sure you're okay, they aren't expecting to come in."

But Lorelei shook her head. "Bring them in." Then added. "Just a few minutes."

Soon, the room was filled with the people Lorelei had come to see as her family. Jana and Laci with matching baby bumps, both only a few months behind her. Laci clinged to Santi's hand, everyone allowing her the one chair in the room while Frankie tried to get another one for Jana, but Jana insisted she was fine. Laci was looking thinner than usual. The couple had to cut their honeymoon short when health problems arose, Laci dropping weight and experiencing complications. Her struggles clearly weighed on Santi, who looked tired but held his wife's hand tightly. She knew what they were thinking, worrying this moment might not come for them. Laci was on bedrest, only able to go easy places like coming here. Still, both smiled at the newst addition to their family's arival.

"She's so cute, Lorelei." Laci says in a soft voice, eyes wet.

Santi hugged Will, telling him so happy for them.

Frankie brought Rosie close to the bed, telling her to be careful as she looked at her first cousin. "You gotta be nice, babygirl. None of that rugrats Angelica nonsense."

"Hey!" Lorelei protested. "I loved Angelica!"

Jana told her that wasn't surprising.

Lorelei turned to Rosie. "In a few weeks, you can even hold her, okay? Get practice for being a baby sister."

Rosie beamed. "Did you know my mommy's having a baby?"

"Whaaaat! No way!"

Jana sees Ben lurking quietly behind them all, and pulls Rosie back.

Ben, Like Laci and Santi, looked thinner. His eyes had dark circles and his skin lost it's golden tone. No summer highlghts in his hair as usual. Will watched his brother, barely recognizable, and certainly not himself. Cameron arrived in 2 weeks, and Ben still didn't know.

"Benny? Do you wanna hold you niece?"

Despite barely being there, Ben nodded, looking with wonder at the bundle in his brothers arms raising up to him. Will watched Ben held her for the first time, taking him into his gentle care, the way he knew from years of holding Rosie, of helping take care of her when things were bad and Frankie was coked out... Ben's eyes filled with tears as he said hi to her.

"Chloe Sen, meet uncle Benny"

***

We gotta give Benny something to fight for <3 A reason to get better, to know he deserves better than Alice. Like Dolli said, he loves rosie ofc, but seeing his own blood, his brothers kid... has to give him something.

This came from a scene in my head I thought it'd be funy if lore is a work and were water breaks and Will is freaking out and shes like baby im fine im literally at a hospital rn

It is SO VERY Lorelei to think she can handle everything... but Will is there because even if she CAN doesn't mean she SHOULD. He's gonna take care of his girl (now girls)<3

@pimosworld @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @whatthefishh @missdictatorme @poeedameronn @itspdameronthings @miraclesabound @babymills16 @rayslittlekitten @kirsteng42

#will miller #William miller #will ironhead miller #triple frontier #William miller x oc #William miller smut #william miller angst #William miller comfort #fem oc #triple frontier fanfiction #william miller fanfiction #william ironhead miller #will miller fanfiction #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam smut #lorelei giang #lal universe

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ppnuggiex · 8 months ago

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hiii!! i saw that your reqs are open <3 i'd like to req a mephi headcanon where the reader is a rlly busy & active student and they barely have time to meet even at school but reader can do meetings and work stuff with others! and he gets all jealous n sulky HEHE i think it would be a silly cute fluffy hc... thank u 💗🫶

　　　　　　MEPHISTOPHELES x gn reader

　　　　『　mephistopheles ,, gender neutral reader 』

　　-> mephisto getting jealous and needy when reader gets really busy

　　— fluff ,, sfw ,, angst w/ comfort ,, some insecurity and doubt from mephisto ,, jealousy from him as well

　　— omg i just realized it said headcannon right now ,, and i was in the middle of writing a oneshot for it 😭 so ill link the oneshot that goes with it to this :3 ! these are kinda long ,, but tysm for requesting ! i love this guy sm ,, hes quite literally the text book definition for babygirl prove me wrong 🙄🤚 feel free to request anymore for mephisto :D !! hope you enjoy these headcannons <3 !!

| • its not rare for mephistopheles to feel left out when around you . after all ,, you did have pacts with all the avatars and were more than acquainted with two angels ,, a reaper ,, one of the wisest and strongest humans the human realm had to offer and were chummy with diavolo and barbatos .

| • it did make him question why you hung around him some days . he didnt mean much ,, just the son of a wealthy noble family within devildom . he may have known diavolo as a child ,, but it wasnt the same . it never felt the same ,, especially after lucifer had shown up in devildom .

| • what did you see in him ? compared to everyone else you knew ,, he wasnt much to you . at least ,, thats how he felt and what he thought . somehow ,, you saw more than just his wealth and title . you saw more of him ,, his interests and dislikes .

| • he didnt think of himself as that interesting ,, but he never let it get to him . though the fact you two were in a relationship meant more to him than you'd every know .

| • days turning to weeks that slipped into months of pining after you . money spent on gifts to give ,, only to be shoved into your hands as he looked away to hide his desire in his eyes ,, mumbling something about how he saw it and thought a human like mightve wanted it or whatever excuse he could fish out .

| • so mephistopheles understood that you get busy . after all ,, being apart of the exchange student program while being a student council member and doing your best to keep the brothers (namely mammon) in line was tiring . and ontop of it all was a shift you usually worked with mammon to help him with his debts . anything to get him to start working towards having less bills and debts to pay off .

| • he knew you worked hard ,, but it didnt stop his mind from being plagued with not the nicest thoughts . he couldnt stop himself from wandering if youre purposely taking on more work to keep yourself busy and away from him . was it true ? he hoped it wasnt ,, but he wouldnt be surprised . he wasnt as interesting as the seven brothers were . nor did he have money or power like diavolo and barbatos ,, or solomon . he was far from being holy and pure like raphael and simeon . he wasnt as funny or affectionate as thirteen either ,, he knew that .

| • but every time you would text him an apology ,, he couldnt help but bite the vile feeling in his heart . how it clenched in his chest whenever he would read the message and reply with reassurance that it was okay . even if it didnt feel okay .

| • it didnt help with how he would see one of the brothers clinging to you in the halls the next day . how you seemed to go unaware of his sorrows ,, yet it would be rude to march up and demand your attention ,, relationship or not .

| • at least ,, you werent aware of it until you dropped by the newspaper club room with a gift in hand for your lover . you realized you had gotten busy and carried away ,, barely seeing him in the halls and missing his texts when he'd send them during class or work .

| • a small treat from madame scream's and some matching jewelry you had saved up for held close to your torso as you opened the door ,, eyes catching mephistopheles as a smile curled on your lips .

| • you would apologize for neglecting him ,, presenting him with your gifts as you awaited for a response . it took him a few moments to realize the situation ,, emerald eyes wide with emotion and heart beating frantically within his chest .

| • a pout formed on his lips ,, standing up from his chair and pulling you into his embrace . his arms snug around you ,, trying to prevent himself from showing anymore weakness than he already was . especially in r.a.d. where anyone could walk in and see how vulnerable he was .

| • " thank you my dear ." he whispered ,, pressing a kiss to your head and opening the present box . inside were two necklaces ,, resembling hearts and two different letters on each one . a 'm' on one for his name ,, and another to match the first letter of your name . intertwined together ,, he unraveled the necklaces from each other ,, witnessing the half heart they made when taken apart .

| • “ i can help you put it on !” you offered with a smile ,, hand held out . he placed his half in your palm ,, leaning down to let you put it on . he shivered slightly when the cold metal brushed against his warm neck ,, your hands rustling lightly against his hair as you clipped it on .

| • he would forever treasure your gift ,, hiding it under his r.a.d. uniform but sometimes you could see the chain peak out around his neck . it would take more communication between you two ,, but you would help with his insecurities and make him feel as loved as you could .

| • whether he would tell you or not ,, after this incident you were quick to figure out when he felt isolated and left out ,, alone with his jealousy and sorrow . you promised not to let him get like that again ,, letting him know you would always be there for him whenever he felt this way .

#obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #omswd mephistopheles #mephistopheles x reader #mephisto x reader #obey me mephistopheles #obey me x reader #🐑.mephistopheles #🐑.obey me #☁️.obey me

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sergeifyodorov · 11 months ago

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would u do a little analysis of how each team has done so far this season … i trust ur opinions so much

EACH team okay... under the cut bc i am not subjecting the masses to 32 nasty little thots cody edition

Bruins: RIP patrice of course but the bruins are steamrolling as ever... i think that if there is any evidence of the universe simply not caring abt good things it is that the bruins slip and stumble and have some of their best players retired and still manage to put up a 50 win season every year. <- salty leafs fan but ANYHWAY the bruins are easily a Playoff Team. simply "there" 5v5, strong power play, they make their money off finishing (pastrnak you filthy animal) and goaltending (swaymark you filthy animals). they have been trending downwards of late so i'm not entirely sure of like their final standings place but with this kind of head start they're staying up.

Sabres: currently in what we the people call a "decade of darkness." might be a "two decades of darkness" if we're going to be honest. the active player with the most playoff points with the sabres is tyler myers. 7 points. yeah the tall one most famous for having a subreddit that posts the gamescore card every time he's on the bottom of the gamescore card. sabres are really hard to fix because their first real step to contention is "hoping devon levi turns out really good." not promising. bad enough that by selling a piece or two celebrini is in sight. maybe that'll help? a third 1OA?

Red Wings: presenting the mid-season Season Ruining Unforced Error Award early by saying: not that they were going to be as good as their first few games of sniping suggested, but signing patrick kane tanked any realistic hope they have of playoffs. is patrick kane good? he's actually alright. maybe this time the surgery worked. is the team made better by having him on it? it surely isn't! a few REALLY BADLY TIMED dylan larkin based misfortunes have made it go from bad to worse. they were in A2 like a month ago and now they're Out. strengths: finishing. weaknesses: everything else, including morale.

Panthers: okay you've probably clocked this by now but ive been Generally Salty so far and that is bc a) im easily tempted to haterhood and b) currently discussing each team in the atlantic which does nothing to make me less Tempted To Haterhood. that being said the panthers are Good and For Real About It. they can do everything except finish chances, which is fine when the other team has way fewer chances than you and your goalie doesn't let any of them in. fuck ALLL the way off. place your bets on these guys having a deep playoff run. cross your fingers for them not having a deep playoff run i can't stand chuckyposting again it's RAN ITS COURSE. (also: machuk is probably still injured and absolutely Not doing as well as he did the last few seasons. maybe because he's just not that kind of guy but it's probably at least mostly the broken chest thing)

Canadiens: they are bad EXCEPT when it comes to overtime + the shootout. also much like the sabres they're going nowhere fast. i expect at least one of their goalies to be gone at the deadline... furthermore i think ppl who are ragging on slaf's slow development are simply expecting all 1OAs to be like an auston or a connor type (pick your connor) where they come in and immediately adapt -- slaf rings very reminiscent of quinton byfield to me, who was picked 2OA in 2020 and is only now starting to break out. give him time he's a baby...

Senators: despite how much literally everyone talks up all their players constantly, they are not good either. like the sabres or the habs... atlantic is 4 teams in the genuine hunt, 3 teams who suck and have sucked forever and will suck forevermore, and the red wings who haven't made up their minds yet. the sens actually Do have a singular Biggest Problem though and that's goaltending, but they're not a good enough team otherwise that getting a quality goaltender is going to make them playoffs worthy, especially not in the very short (this-season) run.

Lightning: the lightning are weird to me because like i think they're still making up their mind as A People what they want to do. kucherov is the best player in the league rn, this is stamkos' ufa season and he hasn't been offered an extension, vasilevskiy is back and vasying his levskiy... i fully believe they have the capability of getting a playoff spot, maybe even A3 if they want. we've all seen them in the playoffs, we know how they can turn ~It~ on at will. as always they're a deeply mid 5v5 team powered by very strong special teams... the goaltending numbers say goaltending is shit but they've been playing in front of the genuinely unplayable jonas johansson most of the season so i think it'll be fine.

Maple Leafs: as the team ive watched the moast i can talk about these guys for evar so for all of our sanities i will be brief: Auston Matthews, Baby, Look At Him, That's Auston, Auston Motherfucking "Sexy Mustached Bitch" Matthews!!!!!!! powered by an extremely strong power play and very good offence, and defence and goaltending that is held together by Morgan Rielly and a dream. possibly the only reason they're in a playoff spot is the fact that martin jones didn't get claimed on waivers three months ago and i am being dead serious about that. for some reason they're at their best when they're down by two. they do really need both their #1 goalie to come back from injury and to make a splash for a genuine nhl-calibre defenceman, but they're stubbornly determined to win games even through nasty flu.

Hurricanes: their usual selves -- analytics darlings, can't buy a goal. this year they can't buy a save either -- Freddie is out with a medical condition, Raanta is straight up not good, and Kochetkov is... well, he's Kochetkov. they're not far out of a spot but they'll need a hot hand if they want to get comfy... which i don't expect, frankly. they're good enough to make the playoffs, but they're not really a team that goes on heaters, so they'll be bubble until the end.

Blue Jackets: genuinely not sure they know what they're doing like... okay. from an outside pov they are obviously Tanking. they're bad in every way that matters except for finishing and the standings show it. but also like... they're at the point in their development cycle where they shouldn't be tanking... or at least are on the verge of Shouldn't Be Tanking. and again, because they don't know what they're doing, they hired mike babcock for this... if they know what they're doing they'll toss kekalainen as soon as they can and, following this year's draft, start Fighting. but let's be real i doubt that. adam fantilli it's your time to shine... sorry sweetheart!

Devils: see Hurricanes. Great on paper, can't buy a save. They've obviously been stunted by Timo, J'accuse, and Nico all being injured at various points, but goaltending is their biggest and most solvable problem. Unlike the Hurricanes, though, the Devils are fully capable of going on a heater, so the gap between them and WC2 isn't as big as it looks (probably.) Luke Hughes is going to be something special.

Rangers: Looks like Lafreniere is finally getting his feet under him -- but the Rangers have always been far more about getting old, known players to get a second wind with them than they've been about prospect development, and Quick and Wheeler are both showing this pretty definitively. Another one of those teams that's run by special teams and finishing/goaltending. Easy playoff spot, likely solid run. Nothing too interesting here.

Islanders: On the other hand, the Isles are interesting because... like... how did they get There? They have a negative goal differential, for heaven's sake! Their special teams are godawful, their defence is a sieve, they blow leads like that's what actually gets you points in this league, and they're somehow second in the Metropolitan??????? Is it Horvat? Barzal? Sorokin? (It's probably Sorokin.) They'll make the playoffs but i doubt they'll succeed in them.

Flyers: This one's also weird. They have the power play and offence of a peewee team in the big leagues, but have become defensively Actually Super Competent and are somehow good because of this? I'm going to theorize -- because you've asked me to but also because I really want to -- that this is due, at least in part, to somewhat of an inverse Kane-on-the-Red-Wings effect from their offseason removal of Provorov and DeAngelo; without them, the team is now not only better defensively on paper but also better as a team in the locker room. They're [uncle voice] playing with heart now! I doubt they're a real contender, but I think they might actually make playoffs.

Penguins: ...this one's also weird. They're good on paper. Like, really good on paper? Defensively "just okay" but offensively great, goaltending is fantastic, special teams are shutdown. They just can't buy a goal and they can't buy a good sequence.

Capitals: This one's weird, too, but in the opposite way -- aside from the power-play, the Caps are actually godawful on paper, especially when it comes to finishing (because when Ovechkin takes such a high percentage of your shots but he isn't scoring, your team REALLY suffers) but somehow they've managed to pinpoint sequencing luck (win close, lose ugly) and are somehow in WC1. Do I think they'll make the playoffs? Absolutely not -- if either the Devils or Canes step up, the Caps are the odd man out -- but it might be fun to see them try. Or hell, I hope they win-close-lose-ugly their way to a goddamn Cup final. Would be funny as fuck for Ovi's second-longest ever playoff run to come at the fresh young age of thirty-eight. Dude looks ragged out there. I'm going to shut up now before I start talking about finding him sexy

Coyotes: Simple on paper: bad at running play, good goaltending and finishing. Essentially what the Canucks are doing at a smaller scale. The Leafs should never have let Kerfoot walk and I mean that unironically. Okay, anyway, the Yotes are a bubble team and won't make higher than WC1 because of the logjam at the top of the Central, but holy fuck do I want them to make WC1 (or a playoff spot in general.) People ask "how can we grow the game" a lot, and when it comes to what the NHL can do directly, the number one biggest thing is win in small markets. Arizona has already created one of the sports' biggest stars -- Auston! -- and it's an absolutely massive TV market and a potential hotbed of new fans and new, great players. Arizona making a playoff spot -- or even better, going on a run -- would be amazing for the NHL. And it would be funny. And I would like that.

Blackhawks: shoutout to dave !!! dave who works for the hawks!!! anyway the hawks are very obviously tanking and good at it. Their only real point of interest is their Sacred Child, and holy fuck is their Sacred Child going to absolutely fucking smash it when he's given a team that's not entirely made up of scrubs. i think his analytics, especially his defensive numbers, are, like, fine? but accounting for his leverage (all situations, especially the difficult ones), his teammates (his best linemate is Anthony Beauvillier, and tito... is a third liner), and the fact that he's all of eighteen, he's definitely on track to be a Real Force. i kinda love him... okay moving on.

Avalanche: All-over good: finishing their biggest obvious strength, but hockeywise they don't have any real weaknesses... although there is some serious Drama brewing in that locker room and i think it might just be getting started. with landeskog gone for at least until the end of this year (and possibly forever) and ej a sabre, there is absolutely no one in there capable of actually emotionally running a team: makar lacking in a leader's magnetism, rantanen an idiot, toews and mackinnon far too high-strung and competitive, and no one else with seniority. they're a good enough team that it's not really affecting them right now, but ... i don't know, i can kind of feel it coming. They'll make the playoffs, but when the pressure is on they'll either step up or completely fall apart.

Stars: See above: all-over good, but saving their biggest obvious weakness. I think most of this is spurred by Otter being out -- Wedgewood is a serviceable backup goaltender, but obviously not capable of being a real starter, and the team is stuttering because of it. I doubt it'll be for long or too much difficulty (they're a good defensive team, so it's not going to affect them a lot, but they might lose a game or two they might have won with Otter, especially if he's out for a while), but it's going to keep them from taking a step on top of the Central. Easy playoff team, probable contender.

Wild: They are bad! Penalty kill is their worst weakness, but they're not great in goal either and the combination is kicking their ass. As much as I respect how well they've done with that giant cap-space penalty from the Parise/Suter buyouts all those years ago, it's... kind of time to throw in the towel. Get Flower those final few wins, because by god are they devoid of much other success. Right at the tail of a competitive arc. RIP. Tank incoming.

Predators: Weirdly good, even though Saros hasn't been his usual self? O'Reilly esp has been an absolutely fantastic addition for the team over the offseason. No huge strengths, no significant weaknesses. Not an amazing offensive team, but it's Nashville so they were never going to be -- the place practically breeds defensive forwards and all-around dmen. I don't expect they'll seriously contend, but they'll make the playoffs (unless someone offers the farm for Saros).

Blues: I genuinely think so little about the Blues .... that whole thing with Jordan Kyrou has been the most I've thought about them for a bit. That and the fact that only three of their games haven't been decided by the first goal? They're not good and they're really boring. Yeehaw.

Jets: THE JETS let's get JUICY. Jets' biggest strengths by far are a) 5v5 defence and b) finishing/goaltending. Even with Kyle Connor out they're sniping and Hellebuyck and Brossoit are both absolutely on it. The Jets have always seemed to have this problem where on paper (take a shot every time I've written "on paper" in this post if you want to die of alcohol poisoning) they seem fantastic, then January onwards they absolutely plummet. And it's not January yet, so that might still happen, but that kind of thing tends to happen because of a dramatic morale shift, and now that Lowry's captain and Wheeler's left for New York... that might not happen? They've banked enough points that unless they're historically bad from here on out they're still a playoff team. If they keep up what they have going so far, they're a contender, but if it's the same Winnipeg with the same problems, then they're not.

Ducks: Taking a step in the right direction with Carlsson and Mintyukov, but still bad! I really hope Carlsson recovers well, he seems like a sweet boy. Also: what on Earth are they doing with Zegras. Is he a defenceman now? Are they making him play defence? Are he and Dixie D'Amelio still dating? I have many questions. I just hope whichever high draft pick they get is an idiot. I feel like they need another dumbass baby on the team.

Flames: The Flames also appear to have no idea what's going on. And frankly, neither do I! They're too good to be obviously tanking, but not near good enough to be a bubble team. They're definitely reluctant to sell, but their best hope to win soon absolutely should be selling. They have one of the worst contracts in the league on their payroll (wow... I hope the guy in charge of my favourite team didn't sign that!) and a bunch of really solid late-round picks and prospects cutting their teeth on the NHL. In short: they aren't going to make the playoffs and should be leaning into that, but they don't seem to have realized this yet.

Oilers: For the sake of not gloating, I'm going to sum this one up with a Marek quote: If you have a goalie, it's 70% of your team. If you don't, it's 100%. They've had finishing trouble, but considering they absolutely run the show at 5v5 AND special teams (they put nearly SIXTY SHOTS on Vasilevskiy the other day) a little finishing shouldn't be quite so dangerous if they didn't have two sieves minding the net. McDavid might hit 150 again and the Oil might still miss the playoffs. If they get in, they're going far, but at this point it'll be tough as fuck to make it in.

Kings: Average penalty kill. No other weaknesses. Kopitar 4 Selke.

Sharks: This is an absolutely glorious tankjob. No other way to put it. This is the pinnacle of tank design. This is the Wayne Gretzky of tankjobs. This is the Casablanca of tankjobs. This is the Saturn V of tankjobs. Nothing has been so beautifully engineered to suck since Sir James Dyson patented his vacuum or Nancy Reagan walked the earth. It's beautiful. It's gorgeous. I am in awe. They deserve Celebrini purely because of how flawless the tank is. I don't care if he has a warm undertone and would look pink in that fantastic teal. The boy needs San Jose.

Kraken: Good defensively at 5v5, bad pretty much everywhere else. I'm going to be honest with you all, last year was kind of a flash in the pan -- Seattle isn't great and they're neither headed upwards nor downwards. Not a bubble team, probably won't pick top ten. They haven't decided whether or not to build up or tank. Beyond the fantastic aesthetics and four-unranked-lines shtick, they don't really have a whole lot of competitive mojo: no star forwards, no goaltending. Wholeheartedly mid.

Canucks: oH BABY!!!!! The 23-24 Canucks made us all learn what PDO is. The 23-24 Canucks are first in the motherfucking league after being one spot out of being in the Bedard lottery. The 23-24 Canucks are on track to have the best shooting and saving percentage in league history. The 23-24 Canucks' leading goalscorer is Brock Boeser, the guy they've almost traded practically every year since they drafted him. The 23-24 Canucks started the season by naming the Wettest Little Man On The Planet captain and they haven't looked back since. I think they're an easy lock for a playoff spot -- but within the playoffs, do I know what they're going to do? I absolutely do not. They could PDO their way to a Cup or they could bow out in four games flat. Either is equally likely. They have thoroughly embraced Good Chaos. Quinn Hughes might win the Hart. Everything's coming up Vancouver.

Golden Knights: Not as good as they were last year. Ultimately still pretty good. Easy playoff spot. Definite contender. Jack Eichel is better than ever and I love him for it, the dickhead.

#asks #mwah anon thank u... this is so long under the cut KJHDKSFJSKDJFHSK #tldr: some teams are good and some teams are bad. sometimes this is interesting and sometimes it's not.

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