#cedar crap

[charlotte-fleming]

Mary: Me and Annie did eventually come to love each others as husband and wifes, but it did take a very long times, it did.

Alison: Aw, a slow burn

Mary: …a what.

[cedarsmoke4]

Sadly missing having a discord community to chat w about characters…I’ve been dreaming of a Heisenberg discord but after all the batshit dumpster fire nonsense that went down last time I was in a fandom discord I’m pretty reluctant to look for—let alone join—one😓

[neshatriumphs]

It feels like I have fucking sludge in my ears bitch. I hate it here. I wonder if I can get an allergy shot. My typical winter meds cocktail is failing me miserably. Need some nature's penicillin and hot toddy

[eredins-a-king-aint-he]

I deleted my Twitter acct bc fuck that, so I’ll only be here and on my general art insta (cedarsmoke4) for the foreseeable future

[emmyrosee]

I just like the smell of men’s body wash and it’s my hubby’s birthday 🥺🩷

—-

There’s a smell from the shower that Atsumu’s not used to, unless he’s in it.

On the outside, it smells like citrus and cedar, but there’s also a tinge that can only be classified as ‘the color blue’ as it circles the air around him. He furrows his brows as he lets his feet follow down the hall, into the bedroom, and right in front of the bathroom door.

You’re using his body wash.

The sound of the shower is still pattering loud as you scrub away, the music on your phone mingling with the shower water and the smell of his body wash seeping from under the door with the humidity of steam.

He smiles and bites his lip softly.

You’re using his body wash.

You’ve been together only for a few months, the necessity of keeping certain hygiene products being more important the more you spend the nights together.

And tonight, it seems like you’re more than content to use his.

It’s a few minutes after he snaps himself out of his trance, he hears the water stop, then your music pauses, and he has to fix up a facade that he wasn’t just standing outside of your shower, sniffing.

“Hey baby,” he says, pulling off his shirt with the least amount of nonchalance. “How was your shower?”

He hides a snicker as you glare at him, only in his boxers and a stretched out tee shirt.

“I hate your freaking 17-in-1 crap,” you grumble, sitting on the bed to slip on your socks. He says nothing, merely grinning as he watches you go about your routine. “Frying the ends of my hair, drying my skin. Next time we go out we’re splurging shampoo and conditioner and a good body wash.”

“You still used it though.”

“Yeah, because I ran out of my stuff that I keep here.” You say it as if your cheeks aren’t heating up before his eyes, and your hands aren’t shaking suddenly with the discussion. “You should just have good stuff then.”

Atsumu chuckles, then moves over to your perch on the bed. He takes the hands from your sock and gently kisses your knuckles, eyes fixated on yours. “I was just touching my feet,” you snort.

“Yeah; I also walk into the bathroom when you’re peeing. Transitive property, I’m still gross.”

You let out a string of laughter and lean down to meet his lips for a kiss, and he moves a hand to gently cup the back of your head to cradle you close.

When you pull away, he nudges his nose with yours, “maybe you should keep your good stuff here.”

“Or we should get you good stuff-“

“But I want yours.”

“Then we’ll buy mine-“

“I’m asking if you want to move in with me freak show,” he groans, immediately shifting to stand up and pin you to the bed, fingers tickling wildly while you kick and scream, swatting his hands away. “You gotta make every little thing a process don’t you-“

“Yes!” You squeal, and he pauses to ask you which one you’re saying yes too-

Only for you to kick him square in the gut.

And that’s exactly how atsumu wanted to spend the night he asked you to move in with him; trapped in the ER with a fractured rib.

But hey; at least you were the to take care of him.

And you never left.

[meiieiri]

STOLEN MOMENTS WITH THEM [FT. JUJUTSU KAISEN]

❁—CHARACTERS: suguru geto, gojo satoru, nanami kento

warnings: suggestive themes in gojo’s part (bc why not haha), mentions of canon-typical violence

a/n: i’m so sorry for all this tooth-rotting fluff, i’m sad rn so hehe :’>> song inspo: you are in love (taylor swift). am accepting requests/prompts btw, just shoot me a message-

༊*·˚ SUGURU GETO

winter afternoons cooped inside your one bedroom apartment are always special days, commonly consisting of freshly-brewed piping hot tea sitting peacefully on your small living room side table, a good book, and the warmth of a knitted throw blanket. snowflakes fall entrancingly from the sky and make a feather-like landing on the glass windows that peek into your home.

suguru geto was lounging silently on the couch with you, your head on his strong lap as he gently combs his fingers through your hair, a leather bound book in his free hand, his eyes leisurely skimming the yellowed pages trying to make sense of the decadent shakespearean sonnets that liken love to that of honey and flowers. you were just about to fall asleep when suguru’s melodic baritone caresses your ear.

“don’t you think he’s so full of shit?” he asks suddenly. how could one speak with such vulgar words and still make it sound like poetry?

“shakespeare?” you sit up and you readjust yourselves so that you can rest your head on his shoulder, peeking over it to inspect sonnet 55. his arms comes up to pull you closer to him, tucking you into the warmth of his chest in a bid to keep you warm. “i thought you liked his work,” you take the offending book into your hands, scanning through the words.

“i do,” he clarifies, tracing shapes on your shoulder, his cheek resting against the top of your head as he waits for you to finish reading through the passage.

when you look up from the book, you are surprised when his lips abruptly yet softly meet yours in a loving peck. his hand moves to cup your cheek as he deepens the kiss, your lips moving together in a perpetual waltz, your heartbeats in total sync. you thought the kiss would last forever, and you and suguru wouldn’t give a flying fuck, but he pulls away teasingly, his forehead resting against your own, his nose lovingly bumping yours as you both come down from your respective highs.

“not as much as i like you, though.”

you shake your head, rose blush tinting your cheeks, hopelessly in love. he truly was the light of your life, the lighthouse that brings you to safe waters.

༊*·˚ GOJO SATORU

despite the horrors that have long plagued the grounds of jujutsu tech, the school, being tucked away in a remote location deep in tokyo’s forgotten countryside, was actually quite beautiful. the backdrop of the tall cedar-wood and red maple trees in the forest adjacent to the teachers’ dormitories that served as a protective cover from unwanted prying eyes is a particularly wonderful sight and in an autumn evening such as this one, emitted a fresh aroma of sweet cherries and almonds.

“i was wondering where you were,” gojo satoru walks in the teachers lounge just as the electric kettle automatically switches off. he woke up in a panic when he noticed you’d gone missing, your side of the bed having lost all its warmth, indicating you must have been out of bed for a good while now. it didn’t help his nerves to see your bedstand digital clock display the time: 1:58 AM in bright neon green on its screen.

he moves behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your dainty figure as you busy yourself pouring the boiling hot water into the two instant ramen cups you had prepared. “that for me?”

“nope,” you shrug. “it’s for nanami.”

that was obviously a lie — he looks at the label of the ramen cup and scoffs when he sees the indicated flavor: seafood curry, his favorite, now, if that wasn’t enough to convince him, he has to remind himself that his adorable blonde junior hates instant crap like this. but still, you found it endearingly funny to see your husband pouting like some kicked dog when you push past him to bring the two cups over to the nearby dining table. “i’m kidding,” you chortle, beckoning him to join you.

“you meanie,” he sticks out his bottom lip as he follows you to the table. he sits down, his elbows resting on the table as his hands come up to cradle his chin, mirroring the image of a child who’d been told “no” by his parent. “i think i want a divorce now,” he sulks.

you feign guilt, playing along with him. you stand up to take a seat next to him. “i’m sorry, baby,” you tell him. he only responds by pointing to his cheek, silently telling you to “kiss it better” if you really were sincere in your apology. you reach up to place a loving kiss on his cheek and a smile spreads across his lips. “better?” you chuckle when he lets out an amused breath.

having made peace, you move to retrieve your cup of ramen when without warning, he pulls you by the hand, crashing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss, his teeth needily sucking at your bottom lip, the heat of the kiss seemingly warming up the entire room that had been filled with the chill of the autumn night breeze. your arms move to rest on his shoulders, as he effortlessly pulls you into his lap, his hands resting on the small of your back. it’s only when you need to take a steadying breath of air that he breaks the kiss.

“all better,” he winks, the ramen having gone cold, utterly forgotten, as the night peacefully went on.

༊*·˚ NANAMI KENTO

“i knew i should have brought an umbrella,” nanami kento sheepishly rubs the back of his head.

“i’m sorry,” his shoulders slump when a low rumble of a thunderclap suddenly goes off, lightning illuminating the sky in a brilliant glow. the date had gone so well — you visited the best art galleries in tokyo, even saw a performance at one of those cozy hidden gem jazz clubs — kento had thought that his luck would hold out ‘till you got home.

but the universe seems to have decided otherwise. now, here you were taking shelter, stranded under the fiberglass roof of a deserted bus stop’s waiting shed. “kento,” your gentle voice quells the dread in his chest, chipping away at the block of anxiety forming in his throat. “it’s okay,” you scoot over, patting the spot next to you, silently telling him to sit down.

reluctantly, he takes a seat, keeping himself at a reasonable distance from you, thinking that you would, at the very least, be upset at him for this slight mishap. “sorry,” he repeats the apology like a broken record, and a compassionate smile forms on your lips.

you slowly scoot on over next to him, closing the gap between the two of you, your pinky finger reaching for his own, as if you were asking for permission. kento notices the gesture instantly, and takes your hand in his, his thumb rubbing your knuckles comfortingly. “…today was fun, kento,” you tell him, a genuine grin on your face, “seriously. what’s a little rain?”

a burden seems to have been lifted from his shoulders. kento nanami was not a man who put much value into love, with how dangerous his profession is, fighting the lurking malevolence hiding in the world’s darkest shadows, he didn’t have time for the childishness of falling in and out of love. it was inconvenient, and troublesome.

at least, that’s what he used to believe before you came crashing into his life and touched the heartstrings he has long resigned to keep under lock and key with your delicate hands.

he silently takes off his overcoat then to wrap it around your shoulders like the gentleman he was (he wasn’t about to let the love of his life get drenched in the rain), resisting the urge to grin when he sees just how small you look in it. the next few minutes pass by in absolute silence, the sound of your breaths being the only conceivable sound for a long while.

“…i’m glad you had fun,” he looks up at the stormy sky again. “i did, too.”

“next time, let’s be sure to check the weather forecast ahead of time,” you giggle. he joins your laughter, bringing your hand to his lips, his warm breath tickling your skin, as he lets his lips touch your flesh in a quintessentially classic affectionate kiss on the back of your hand like they do in those vintage hollywood movies. he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “i know how much you hate the rain.”

“…i think i can make an exception,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

the decibels of his tenor fight against the loud pitter patter of raindrops crash landing on the fiberglass roof of the waiting shed. but you hear his lyrical confession of love anyway, with your heart’s ear perhaps.

“i have the sun with me all the time, anyway,” kento says, planting a soft kiss on your forehead as the rain washes the remnants of his old world away.

[holylulusworld]

Fragrances

Summary: Sam looks for a new fragrance and finds something more…

Written for @spnkinkevents SPN Omegaverse Week – Day 2 – Sunday, April 15 - Scenting

Pairing: Alpha!Sam Winchester x Omega!Reader

Warnings: a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, excessive scenting, meet cute, scent bond, true mates, strangers to lovers trope, fluff

Words: 900+

SPN Omegaverse Week Masterlist

You reek like an alpha. The words echo in Sam’s mind. The last woman he asked out complained about his intense and very strong alpha scent – or rather stink.

Even though Sam took her comment to heart, he asked her out on another date. He bought brand-new clothes, showered thrice, and bought a new shampoo, promising silky hair.

All for nothing.

The moment she got close to Sam, she complained again, calling him a stinky alpha. She ran for the hills – leaving Sam in his misery.

“Sammy, you gotta get out of that room one day,” Dean calls from the hallways. “We all smell like alphas. That’s our nature, Sammy. You can’t fight nature!”

“I can and will,” Sam mutters under his breath. “I don’t want to end up alone only because I smell too…strong…”

“It’s called musk,” Dean opens the door and pokes his head in. “If I can bear your stink, and you can bear mine, an omega should be fine with your scent too.”

“It’s not that easy,” Sam sniffs. “I liked that woman, and she called me…” He shakes his head.

“She’s a stupid bitch,” Dean concludes. “Omegas smell like omegas too. While in heat they smell even worse. I don’t want to scent the slick of a random omega either, but I’d never embarrass a woman only because nature is a bitch!”

“Maybe—” Sam gets up from his bed. “I should try a new fragrance, Dean! I saw a commercial about a fragrance turning your scent into…” He wrinkles his forehead. “I forgot the rest but remember the name.”

“Aw,” Dean grins. “You want to buy perfume to smell like a flower, Sammy.”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do, Dean,” Sam brushes past his brother, ignoring Dean's laughing behind his back. 

“Off he goes to smell like a rose garden…”

“Cedar…green grass,” Sam looks at the fragrances, frowning deeply. He forgot the name of the fragrance on his way to the drugstore. “No. Maybe wood or sunflower.”

He hears a giggle coming from across the shelf. Sam stops looking at the fragrances and listens closely. “Vanilla-chocolate muffin,” you snicker. “I don’t want to smell like food.”

The alpha frowns as you continue. “Cinnamon and freshly baked bread,” you huff. “Dude, I’m no food. I want something more natural—” 

You purr low in your throat and immediately put the bottle of perfume back when you catch an irresistible scent. You hurriedly round the shelf to stare at an alpha stand in front of the men’s fragrances shelf.

He’s tall and has a muscular build with broad shoulders and a muscular chest. You lick your lips when his scent surrounds you. It’s a dream come true.

His scent is manly, but gentle to your nose at the same time. Like in a trance, you step closer and closer until you stand right in front of him.

“No fragrance for you,” you push the bottle out of his hand and grab his large hand to hold it in your smaller one. “You smell so good.” You look up at the stranger, eyes wide and glassy. “So…so good.”

“What?” He nervously laughs. “Miss…I need to find…” The alpha sniffs at your hair, purring low in his throat. His eyes dilate, and he salivates when your scent is all he can smell. “Omega.”

“Alpha,” you whine and tug at his hand. “My alpha.”

He croons loudly, making you whine even louder. “We…we should…”

“Sammy, what’s the matter—” Dean stops in his tracks. “Crap…” He watches Sam grasp for you, close to stopping his brother when Sam easily picks you up. He calls for his brother, but Sam is too far gone.

He only has eyes for you, in his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist and buried your face in his neck to scent Sam. “Sammy?”

“Omega,” Sam walks out of the drugstore with you clinging to his body like a koala. He ignores people who are staring at you. All he has in mind is to bring you home and scent you.

“Alpha,” you rub your face in his shoulder to catch his scent. “My alpha.”

“SAMMY! You can’t just kidnap girls!” Dean calls after his brother. “Do you at least know her name?”

“Y/N,” you murmur while sniffing at Sam’s chest. “What’s your name?”

“Sam,” Sam looks at you in his arms, a content smile on his lips. “But you can call me alpha if you want to…”

“You smell so good,” you insisted on going home with Sam. You didn’t care he was a stranger not hours ago. Sam was your true mate, and your omega wanted him. “So…so good.”

“Y/N,” Sam murmurs against your skin. You ended up on his bed, with his body wrapped around you. While you eagerly sniff at his chest, Sam has his face buried in the crook of your neck. He just can’t get enough of your scent.

“Sammy, did you kidnap the girl,” Dean pokes his head into his brother’s room, sighing deeply. “Dude, you can’t take strays home.”

“Shut up,” you and Sam say in unison. “He’s my alpha.” You complain loudly and go back to scenting Sam. “I won’t leave him, now that I finally found him.”

“She’s mine,” Sam grunts. “We can discuss everything else tomorrow. Today, I need to scent her. Our bond is strong.”

“A scent bond, huh?” Dean cocks a brow. “I always believed that’s a fairytale. Fine, keep her. But don’t bring strays home all the time from now on.”

“I only want her,” Sam nuzzles your skin. “Only my omega…”

Tags in reblog.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Perdition

Bleeding in Moonlight: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five |

CW: None, really, other than someone eating pizza... badly. Oh, and some brief references to the FLDS cult.

-

“All right,” Vanessa said, leaning over her drink and giving Anaya a fixed stare across the table. “Explain.”

Down the hall, the shower ran. Eden looked back over his shoulder, thinking about how he’d had to show the kid how to turn the knob from cold to hot, and the boy’s absolute shock when he’d felt hot water hit his palms, stinging the scrape there. 

The kid hadn’t even flinched fully back, just turned to Eden with those strange golden eyes so wide. 

It comes out hot?

Eden had been thinking, ever since, about how it would feel to only have experienced cold showers your entire life. Assuming there had even been showers. He was starting to think maybe Misae had been hosed down in the yard.

Like a dog covered in mud.

Like a wolf.

He rubbed at his temples, a headache threatening. His brain kept trying to cycle back to the sight of the skinny young reddish-brown wolf racing through their camp, the bloodied wound in its back leg - and then shifting to Misae, naked with his leg bleeding, curled up under their car trying to hide from the man hunting him. 

He couldn’t reconcile the two creatures as the same, in two different shapes. Anaya, apparently, could just believe in werewolves in a flash, a split-second reorienting of their entire conception of reality not even bothering her at all. 

It wasn’t so easy for him.

“What do you mean?” Naya asked, her eyes on the window behind Vanessa. "Explain what?" The little black cat from earlier had shown back up and was sitting just outside the window, watching them, blinking yellow eyes in slow, wordless communication. 

Vanessa had said it wasn’t her cat. It supposedly belonged to an elderly neighbor. Eden wasn’t so sure the cat agreed with that assertion.

“I’m not trying to be rude,” Vanessa said, sipping the apple cider-whiskey-and-lemon-fizzy-water concoction she’d made and offered to them both. Anaya had taken her up on it, but Eden had begged for something as simple as a beer.

He’d ended up with something ostentatiously draped in chocolate and peanut butter that was pretending to be a stout, but fuck it - it was still beer. Beer that tastes like a peanut butter cup, sure, but beer.

“No, I know, I know you’re not, it’s just-... it’s kind of a weird subject for him-”

“Is he a Lost Boy?” Vanessa’s tone was flat now.

Eden and Anaya shared a look. Eden raised his eyebrows. Anaya shrugged, then turned back to Vanessa. “I don’t know what that means, Ness. I know Lost Boys is a Peter Pan thing, but-”

“Man.” Vanessa laughed, open and easy. “You never watched any of those documentaries I told you to watch, did you?”

Anaya flushed.

Eden snorted. “Well, if you told her to watch them, I guarantee she didn’t. Number one way to keep Naya from doing something is to tell her she has to do it.”

“Hey!” Anaya swatted at his arm, and he grinned at her, batting his eyelashes until she broke back down into giggles. “That’s not fair. You do it, too.”

“I know I do, but we’re not talking about me, are we?” He held up his beer as if making a toast. “Talkin’ about you, baby.”

“I hate you,” Anaya said, and leaned over to steal a kiss. 

“Gross,” Vanessa said, sounding utterly unbothered. “This is why I don’t have roommates, you know. So nobody has to see kissing.”

“You never kiss anybody here?” Anaya blinked, looking around. “But your house is so cute!”

“Number one - thank you, I worked really hard on the piece of crap falling down shack I bought six years ago, so I appreciate that. Number two… No. This house is my sanctuary, baby girl, nobody ever crosses this doorway who might think they have a claim on it if they do. And number three… Lost Boys are named after the Peter Pan story, yeah, but it’s… okay. Uh. How do I start… So you remember I grew up in Cedar City, in Utah?”

“Nope.”

“We talked about our childhoods like six times, Naya.”

Anaya winced. “Sorry. My memory is swiss cheese on a good day-”

Vanessa waved her hand. “Honestly, that’s fine. I’m just as bad, I can’t judge. So, not super far from Cedar City, you run into these… people. I was raised Mormon, not that it stuck-” She lifted up the cocktail she’d made for herself and shook it until the ice clinked against the side of the glass. “As you can see. My mom is still absolutely convinced I’m coming back to it, but that’s just Mom being her usual optimistic self. Anyway, not relevant. There’s this offshoot group near us, and they call themselves FLDS, but they’re about as Mormon as a sack of hammers. They’re pretty much flat out a weird sex cult run by old men who choose dozens of women to marry. That’s the Cliff’s Notes, it’s actually much grosser than that. But, uh, when there’s a dozen men that marry a dozen women each…”

Eden wrinkled his nose. “There can’t possibly be enough women to make that work.”

“There aren’t. Nice catch. Or, rather, there’s too many men. So they kick the teenage boys out. They come up with some kind of story, some excuse for it. One boy I met watched a VHS tape of Fern Gully in secret but made the mistake of telling his brother, who told on him. One was overheard telling a girl he thought she was pretty when she was already set to marry somebody’s grandpa. Another said all they told him was that he seemed kind of lazy at the worksite last Thursday. One poor kid just had the absolute freaking audacity to not even notice the girls at all, they decided that meant he was looking at the boys instead. Doesn’t matter. They kick them out, dump them on a road with a backpack - if they're lucky they get a backpack - and tell the boys good riddance, don’t come back. They don't have any documentation, they don't have any idea how to live in the modern world. Most of them have never even handled money themselves. Sometimes you’ll hear them called the Sons of Perdition? Ringing any bells?”

Anaya frowned, looking at Eden. He shrugged back at her. “Sounds sort of familiar,” Anaya said slowly. “Like maybe I saw something on the news.”

The shower turned off. All three of them went briefly quiet, as they heard the bathroom door open and close, followed by the guest bedroom door doing the same. 

“You might have. There was a big case about it years ago, that's what the show I wanted you to watch was about. In any case, I’m telling you all of this because I thought maybe you’d picked up a Lost Boy. Sometimes, with the Lost Boys, their moms have kids who already left, or a sister or something, and they can give the boy a phone number to call. Mostly, though, they’re on their own. My mom helps them, she drives the roads some days looking for the boys and takes them to a shelter in Cedar City. When I visit back home we do it together. So, yeah. I thought maybe that’s where he could be from.”

“I… don’t think that’s it.” Eden looked down at his beer. “We found him in the woods, like… deep into the woods, and he was coming from somewhere even deeper. Actually, he found us, I guess. We saw him hiding under my car from somebody who was after him. And it didn’t seem like the plan was to bring him back alive.”

“Hence the being shot,” Vanessa said, thinking out loud.

Eden nodded. “Hence being shot.” Honestly, he liked her - she was sharp and soft at the same time. He could see why Anaya had been so sure she’d let them stay, that she’d help them out.

“Well, my first guess was wrong, then, I suppose. But there’s all kinds of survivalists hiding out in the woods. Usually just a family by themselves, or maybe a couple related families who put together a little compound. Most of them keep to themselves and tip really well when they show up in the local diners, keep some of the farm supply stores more or less in business, but sometimes you get some that are alone in the woods long enough to get…” She trailed off. "Weird."

Anaya sipped her own drink - just the cider. She’d told Eden she was worried that if she drank alcohol she’d just flat out fall asleep at the table. They were both running on nerves and caffeine by now. "Weird?” She prodded, gently.

“Odd,” Vanessa said, finally. “Paranoid. Hostile. They’re the kind of guys that think we’re all microchipped by the government, or that vaccines make you pick up cell signals. Things like that. People who sit around alone too long get really weird. Or maybe they were already weird and that’s why they went out into the woods. I mean, as long as they tip twenty percent on a decent meal, they can live however they want in my book, but not if they're trying to cover up abuse, or something. If that’s where this kid comes from, well. There might not be anybody he can easily go to, relatives-wise."

Eden thought of Misae's scars. "... I think abuse was pretty much a given. You don't shoot at someone who's running from you if you're a good place to grow up."

"Yeah. Poor kid." The timer over the oven beeped, and Vanessa pushed herself to her feet. “Just a second. Hey, Strange Boy Misae!” Vanessa’s voice shifted into an effortless projection that found its way through every corner of the little bungalow of a home. “Pizza’s ready! Come eat!” 

She swept herself into the kitchen, leaving Eden and Anaya briefly alone. Eden held his beer in his right hand and let his left drift, until it found Anaya’s fingertips. She smiled without looking at him and grabbed on tight. 

“This was a good place to pick,” Eden admitted, reluctantly. “To find a place we can crash. You did good, baby."

“Told you so,” Anaya sing-songed, voice low and loving. “I’m always right, even when I’m not.”

“Aaaaand this moment right here is why I never admit it when you are right,” Eden said, voice dry. "Because you do that every single time." They clinked beer bottle and glass together, and kissed again. Anaya half-laughed into the kiss, making it awkward and bad and the best kiss, all at the same time.

He heard the softest scrape behind him and pulled back to see Misae hovering in the doorway, wearing Anaya’s star-sky pajama pants pulled as tight at the waist as they could go and a shirt of hers that didn’t quite meet the waistline, showing a flash of pale, scarred stomach. His hair was mussed and stuck up and out every which way. His eyes danced around the room and he moved in a way Eden could only call slinking, sticking to the wall as he eased himself slowly into the room. He limped, still, but not nearly so badly as he should have. 

He shouldn’t have been able to move at all, not really, not without crutches or help.

Well, maybe teenagers who turn into wolves heal fast, Eden’s brain supplied with hysterical false calm. Didn’t he say he heals fast? 

Misae’s eyes moved constantly, the whites showing around the iris as he took everything in. He crossed his arms in front of himself. Outside, the sun was getting low in the sky, sending blazing golden yellows and oranges that cast Misae in a light like reflected flames. It made his gold eyes seem to glow. 

“Hey,” Eden said, his voice gentling immediately. “Feeling better? Was it a good shower?” He patted the seat next to him when the boy didn’t move.

Misae looked down at the chair, back to Eden, and then towards the kitchen. Vanessa bustled around in there. 

Something fell in a crash of ceramic and Misae’s lips pulled back in a heartbeat, baring teeth that weren’t as flat in the canines as they should have been, snarling even as he hunched into himself further, self-protective, and pushed himself back against the wall. Eden could damn near see his ears suddenly tipped in fur, elongating, pushed back against his head. Was he getting shorter?

“Everything’s fine!” Vanessa called out before anyone could ask. “Just a second! Everything’s totally good!”

Misae’s teeth were sharp enough to crunch bone now. Eden couldn’t deny it - he was watching the boy begin to turn. He wasn’t getting shorter, he was shifting from bipedal to something that had to stand on all fours. Eden swallowed, hard, his heart beating so fast it made him vaguely breathless. 

"Holy shit," Anaya breathed, next to him. Her grip on Eden's hand went tight enough to hurt, squeezing his bones together. He wondered, in a kind of wild irrational flight of fancy, if Misae's bones hurt right now, changing shape in everything from fingers to spine. "Misae, honey-... sweetie-"

“Come sit,” Eden said, keeping his voice low. “Everything’s okay, Misae. She’s a good person, she won’t hurt you. I promise. Even if she tries, we'll keep you safe, I swear. Just sit down next to me, okay?”

Misae blinked, and the sense of something not-quite-human was gone in a heartbeat. No monster here, it was only a frightened teenage boy who limped carefully to the chair next to Eden. 

Eden decided not to think about what he’d seen any longer. Not even a little bit. Not even for a second. He locked that up in a box inside his head marked LATER. Or maybe NEVER.

Misae sat down like he’d never been in a chair before, lowering himself carefully as if he thought it might bite him. He sighed in something like contentment when he finally settled. “This good?” He asked, chin down but looking up through his eyelashes.

“It’s perfect. So was the shower good?” Eden asked again, just for something to say. In the window, the black cat kept watching them, eyes locked on Misae now.

Misae nodded, but he didn’t speak anymore. He… really wasn’t a talker. Most of the time, it felt like talking to a statue, a robot.

Like talking to a dog.

Maybe he never talked because nobody had ever cared to listen.

He shook that thought away just the same as he’d shaken off the last one. He’d admitted to himself, deep down, that this kid wasn’t completely human and he'd clearly come from somewhere awful, but he needed at least one good night of sleep to be able to fully grasp it.

Or maybe he never would. 

“We’re going to just chill out for a couple days,” Anaya said, leaning forward so she could talk directly to Misae around the obstruction that was Eden. “Just rest, and figure out what to do next, okay? So no worries about having to be on the move again right away. So just… think about where a safe place might be for you to go, okay? Maybe some people that could take care of you?”

Misae looked at her, tipping his head to one side, eyebrows furrowing slightly. The silence drew out. Just as Anaya looked away, Misae murmured something too low to be understood.

She blinked. “What was that?”

“... I don’t know any other place,” Misae admitted, voice rough, just above a whisper. Something like a growl or a whine just at the edge. “Don’t know any other people. I only knew one place, and it isn’t safe. All my people are dead. I told you.”

Eden needed another beer.

Desperately.

Vanessa returned, smiling brightly as she held a couple plates heaped with slices of pizza, breadsticks, and tomato sauce to dip it in. “I made two pizzas. Who wants sausage and pepperoni, and who wants barbecue chicken? Oh, hey, you’re here. That shower did some good, you look like a totally different person now!” 

Misae’s eyes flicked to Eden’s and then away. “Thank you," He muttered, leaning away as if wanting to hide from the attention. 

Vanessa showed Misae the plates. “Dinner is served. So pick your poison, kiddo.”

Misae’s eyes widened in alarm, and he turned to look at Eden. The sound he made this time was definitely, fully, entirely a canine whine. Eden could very nearly understand him.

Don’t make me eat this.

"I've been good," Misae whispered, begged really, eyes beseeching. "Don't make me eat the poison meat. Please, Eden."

Vanessa blinked, pulling the plates back towards herself a little. “Uh… what?” 

Eden cleared his throat. “It’s a joke,” He reassured Misae, reaching out to touch his shoulder, feeling the boy lean into the touch with something like ferocity, nearly pushing Eden off balance. He gave the boy’s shoulder a squeeze and felt him shaking under his palm. Somehow he ended up with an arm around those bony, thin shoulders, pulling him close and speaking against his hair. Some of it tickled Eden's nose. “She was joking. It’s not actually poisoned. Take the sausage one, you’ll like that. I'll eat it, too, okay? So you can see it's good to eat, and nobody's going to get hurt."

“It’s not poisoned,” Anaya agreed quickly. “It's totally, completely safe. We promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

"Not helping when you say the D-I-E word, Naya," Eden murmured. Misae nosed into the crook of his neck, whining again. His stomach growled along with it, the sound as loud as a whalesong in the small dining room. Eden's own stomach growled as if in response.

“I’m so sorry, kiddo,” Vanessa said, sounding stricken. “Oh, gosh. I really didn’t think when I said that, huh? That you wouldn't know it was a joke. I'm so so sorry. Totally normal pizza, one hundred percent not even a little bit poisoned. Just regular food for regular humans. Look, watch." Vanessa picked up a slice and took a bite herself, chewing ostentatiously. "See? Safe!"

Eden very nearly burst out laughing. Not from humor, not really, but just from a kind of exhausted hilarity he couldn't quite control.

Whatever Misae was, regular human sure wasn’t it. And his reaction to the poison joke made something in Eden hurt, absolutely certain this kid had seen some other people - or wolves - poisoned with their food before, maybe even seen them die from it.

Maybe the slaughter of his family wasn't the first time he'd had to see the ones he loved be killed right in front of him. Maybe it had been the last, instead.

Every detail made him want even more to know where this kid came from, and simultaneously want with equal desperation to never, ever know.

Misae slowly nodded, watching as the plate was set down in front of him. He didn’t move to eat, though, his eyes on Eden and Anaya as each politely asked for the type of pizza they wanted - Eden taking sausage and Anaya barbecue chicken with a side of ranch dressing, because she was occasionally an abomination. Eden loved her anyway.

It was a little harder to love her when she dipped pizza in ranch, but he did his best.

It wasn’t until Eden picked his pizza up and took a bite that Misae’s hands moved, slowly, to echo Eden’s movements. Eyes on him all the time. “Hot,” He commented, pulling his fingers back from even the slightest touch. His nose crinkled a little, which had to be maybe the weirdest, cutest expression Eden had ever seen someone make. “Hurts.”

“Yeah,” Vanessa agreed, settling back into her own seat. She slid a freshly opened beer across the table at Eden, who mouthed thank you and batted his eyelashes, watching her smile brighten in return. “Just came out of the oven. You really timed your shower perfectly. You can use a fork if you want, I promise I won’t judge.” She winked.

Misae blinked back at her, then moved one hand hesitantly to touch the silver fork at the right of the plate. He held it like a toddler who’d never seen one before, more or less just closing his fingers in a fist around it, stabbing ineffectually at the sausage until some stuck. 

Anaya, Eden, and Vanessa all watched as he took a piece of sausage with a bit of steaming cheese clinging to it to his mouth, stuck it awkwardly inside, and then hissed as the heat burned his tongue. Then his eyes went wide and he chewed frantically before swallowing and all but throwing his fork at the next bite. 

Misae next jammed his fork hard enough to get a huge chunk of cheese, sausage, and even a little crust to lift up this time. The plate rattled beneath his graceless enthusiasm. 

He shoved the whole thing into his mouth until his cheeks bulged like a chipmunk’s, chewing with effort and seeming to swallow the whole bite nearly whole. 

After that, he gave up on the fork, dropping it with a clatter. He used his hands instead, gathering the remaining pizza together in a sort of lump and eating it until red sauce smeared a circle around his mouth. He made soft grunting noises as he ate, maybe sounds of contentment, curled around the plate as if protecting it from anyone else trying to grab a bite or take it from him. 

Eden was the first one to find words. “He’s, uh… he’s new to pizza.”

“I’ll say,” Vanessa said, slightly faint. “This is the single most disgusting thing I have ever seen, and I cannot possibly look away.” She set her own slice of pizza slowly back down on the plate and took a drink without ever taking her eyes off of Misae’s feasting.

None of them did.

Misae finished every bite on his plate before the other three had even managed to finish a single slice - not that any of them even bothered to try now, too engrossed in the sight of a teenager eating pizza the way he might have torn into an animal carcass if he were in a nature documentary. 

Misae picked up his plate and licked the bits of sauce clinging to the ceramic away. Only when he set it back down, so well cleaned it seemed like it had never had food on it at all, did he seem to realize the others weren’t eating. He swallowed, eyes dancing nervously from Vanessa to Anaya to Eden and back. 

Eden picked up his slice of pizza and set it on Misae’s plate. “Here you go,” He said, voice gentle. His stomach turned over, appetite gone after the spectacle. “Go ahead and have mine, too.”

Misae licked his lips, looking uncertainly down, then nodded and tore into that piece, too.

As he did to Anaya’s barbecue chicken slice.

And Vanessa’s. 

Then he drank the side of ranch straight out of the little bowl, and licked that clean, too.

Eden might never have an appetite again.

“I didn’t know anyone could eat this much pizza at once,” Anaya whispered, sounding less grossed out than just deeply, deeply impressed. 

“I think he’s officially eaten a whole pizza by himself,” Vanessa half-whispered, eyes wide.

She set a breadstick down on Misae’s plate and watched him eat that, too, in three quick bites, barely chewing. “Where the hell is he going to put it all? He weighs like ninety pounds soaking wet.”

Eden closed his eyes. His headache was getting worse. He needed to sleep more than he needed literally anything else on earth. Too bad he only really slept well in the woods. Well, maybe he was so far past tired by now he could sleep anywhere at all?

“Wolves,” Eden said in a tight voice, “Can eat like twenty percent of their own body weight in a single meal. I saw that on something David Attenborough narrated once.”

“Wolves?” Vanessa asked.

The light outside was starting to dim. It’d be another night of a huge harvest moon, Eden thought. Not yet, but soon enough. He’d go outside and look at it for a while, if he could keep himself awake long enough. 

Misae stared back at them, curling into himself again. He flushed, but it just blended with the red sauce around his mouth. It really did look like blood, even starting to darken as it dried. 

He followed Eden’s gaze to the window, looking out at the oncoming night. 

Then back at them.

“Thanks for the food,” He said, without looking up. His voice was thick. He stood so fast he knocked his chair over and then half-limped, half-ran back down the hall. The door to the guest bedroom slammed shut behind him.

Eden exhaled, slowly. “Well…”

“That,” Anaya said, shaking her head, “Was definitely something I have never seen before. And that I hope to never see again.”

“Yeah. Uh.” Vanessa stood. “I’m going to… get us all the rest of the pizzas, I guess. Assuming I can stand to even look at it now.”

Eden hummed assent and took a drink, letting the blend of bitterness, chocolate, and subtle sweet peanut butter sit on his tongue while he stared outside. 

What were they going to find in the bedroom when they went back in?

A scared teenager with a stomach ache?

A wolf with bared teeth?

Or, somehow - impossibly - a creature who was both?

When he looked to the window, the black cat was still there. Still watching them, as the moon began to rise. It blinked, slowly, and Eden drained the rest of his beer.

It was going to be a long night.

-

@finder-of-rings  @burtlederp @deluxewhump @scoundrelwithboba @shrimpwritings 

@yassifiedinformation @wildfaewhump @whatwhump @honeycollectswhump @tundra-tiger

@dont-look-me-in-the-eye @there-will-always-be-blood @fangedcinnamonroll @pigeonwhumps

[lunaloveeee]

past lives

chapter one

In one age, your elbow is tucked in the crook of your father's arm, held tight as he guides you toward a pale-haired figure who watches you with his piercing eye - the man you're arranged to marry.

In another, your elbow is propped on a cedar table in the library, your head heavy as the endless hours of research and swirling words on a page are drowned out by thoughts of your classmate who sits beside you - daydreams about running your fingers through his pale hair, about finally feeling his piercing gaze on every part of you.

Time ripples with these familiar echoes. And as you turn each dusty page - when each word beckons past and future to collide - you ask yourself: Is my end already written?

aemond targaryen x f!reader || dual timeline, second chance, modern day (but also set in the past), soulmate au.

masterlist | ao3 link, for those who prefer.

-

Anticipation is a funny thing. It’s the body’s innate way of setting an expectation, of looking forward to an event, an opportunity, a change. It’s also interesting, in that often it can do exactly the opposite of what you would like it to. For example, you know you’re meant to wake up early for class today.

It’s a class many dream to take with a professor who touts many accolades throughout their career, and it’s only offered as a summer class. Only — you don’t wake up early for class. In fact, by the time you roll over to reach over and slap your alarm clock on your phone off, you realize it never even went off in the first place. Nervousness had led you to staying up until the early hours of the morning. The repercussions are clear now as panic-stricken fingers tremble as they reach across the surface of your night table, grasping at air until colliding with the edge of your iPhone. Oh no, you slap a hand to your forehead, 7:30. Class starts at eight, and if there’s one thing you know about this professor it’s that they’re prompt. Punctuality is not a laughing matter.

“Crap,” you nearly shriek, rolling off the bed completely in your haste, grunting as your body collides with the carpeted floor below. “Lydia?!”

The apartment is silent. Lydia must have stayed out the night before at her fiancé’s place. Suiting, as they would be marrying at the end of summer and finally moving in tighter once your lease expires. Choosing to ignore the impending realization of having to find a new place soon on top of everything else you have presently going on in your life, you quickly dart over to the closet in search of something to wear. Two weeks of laundry sits in a hamper, taunting you, the offerings of your closet dwindling with each thrust of a hanger as you rummage about.

“Come on, come on,” you cry, settling on a pair of shorts and a tee shirt that probably should be thrown away at this point, as the edges are fraying, but it’s all you have at the moment that isn’t in need of a wash.

It’s a mad stumble over to your mirror, shrugging out of your clothes and slipping into new ones, taking in the horrifying state of the makeup you never took off the night before. Mascara and eyeliner has since smudged along your cheeks in your sleep, and it seems you’re doing a great impersonation of a raccoon. You don’t have much time, so you make work of brushing your teeth and washing your face at the same time — not a simple task — and blow a strand of your messy hair out of your face, giving that a quick brush before deciding you’ll have to forego makeup this morning. Already off to a great start, you huff out a sigh, snatching your backpack from the floor and phone off the charger. Fortunately, your school is a quick few blocks away that you manage to run, ignoring the protesting blisters that are likely forming on the bottom of your sandal-covered feet.

Students whirl around as you enter, muttering your apologies under your breath as the professor reprimands, “Lateness will not be tolerated, Miss…”

You provide your name, slouching as you make your way over to a seat beside Lydia and think about all the ways you might disappear off the face of the earth. And quick, preferably.

Her blue eyes scour your features, gesturing to the state of your clothes and the bedraggled hair on your head. “In a little rush this morning?”

“My alarm never went off,” you tell her in a low growl, quieting as the professor stands to his feet and draws the attention of everyone in the room with their booming voice.

“The summer syllabus is simple, students. I want passion. I want exploration. I want you to research something that gives you life. So I want you to explore, to really dig into the material, to see why history is still a living, breathing, thing.”

The professor’s words ring throughout the classroom. It’s a small one, housing only twenty-eight students for the summer course, but naturally they’re the most eager of your classmates. You recognize most of them — the history major itself is not very popular at this school as it is. But that’s not to say you’re friendly with most of them, so when the professor announces you’re to pair up before they explain the project any further, you immediately blurt out your best friend, Lydia’s, name. Only she’s holding onto the hand of her fiancé, looking up at him like the sun quite literally shines out his ass.

“Babe…” she starts, frowning piteously, and you raise a hand, not needing her to finish, “You could try Demi —”

“Demi is working with Paul,” Chase tells you both, curling his girlfriend closer to his chest. “I saw her run over and grab him.”

Damn you, Chase. A forced smile tugs your lips. It’s not like the morning can get any worse. “No, no — it’s fine. I can work with…” Your eyes circle the room, a groan of frustration spilling from you when you find most of your classmates already pairing off. You start to question if you spoke too soon, if things could actually get worse, and then — “Aemond Targ. Uh —” A pause. “Aemond?”

“Yes?” he asks, sounding bored as ever, head rising from whatever he’s scribbling in his notebook.

Aemond…well, you wouldn’t call him your friend. He’s really not anyone’s friend in class; mostly keeps to himself, aquiline nose always in a book of some sort. Even now, he regards you with very little care. His lips are pursed, in disapproval if you had to guess, the scar bisecting his prosthetic eye (you only know this because people gossip around campus), pinkened against pale flesh stretched taut along angular features, silvery blonde hair wavy against his forehead.

It’s unfortunate he’s so beautifully handsome, sculpted like the gods of old, and yet so…

“You called my name,” he repeats, tucking his book beneath his notebook. You can barely make out ‘weaponry’ scrawled on the binding. Curious. His eyes trail down to where yours have seemingly chosen to linger. “Hm.”

Lydia presses at your lower back in your clear hesitance that has you rooted on the spot under his stare, pushing you forward, whispering. “He’s not going to bite.”

Swallowing thickly, you laugh, muttering, “I was wondering if you wanted to…be my partner for the project.” Aemond glances over his shoulder, looking to see if you’re truly talking to him, and you wish for the ground to open up beneath you at the way he eventually returns his focus to you and smirks. Your stomach plummets, chest burning with your growing embarrassment. “Look — if you’re going to make fun, I —”

“I won’t prolong your evident misery. I’ll be your partner.” And he says it with that accent of his, that reminds you he’s not from New York, that he’s seen the other side of a world you’ve only read about in books.

“It was not evident misery,” you grumble beneath your breath as you stalk over to the chair directly beside his, hearing the professor’s voice call out above the din that everyone is to make their way back to their seats. With a thump, you drop down beside Aemond, not missing the way he shifts further away from you — as though the very thought of you simply touching might ruin his day. “I am quite mysterious, I’ll have you know.”

“What?” he asks, leaning in a little toward your ear.

“Hmpf.” Your arms cross, head tips upward in defiance, and lean back against the chair, awaiting further direction.

All in all, the project is simple. Instead of the traditional six weeks spent in a classroom, you are to use the six weeks of class to work on your summer project. The professor does not care how it is done — be it worked on literally together, or within a shared document. They just want it to be a culmination of actual interest. Something not derivative. Something new, invigorating, something you’re passionate about.

Which you suppose is simple enough, but through your limited scope of exploration in the last twenty something years of your life…by the time you return to your shared apartment later that evening, Lydia is ready to glue your fingers together because of your incessant tapping on the keyboard. Because as it stands, you have no idea what you feel passionate about.

“You're going to destroy your backspace button.” She’s grimacing as she pours a glass of wine, handing you one, then pours another for herself.

“The letters are already worn off,” you point out, sipping gratefully at the rosé. “Why is this so hard?”

“Because you enjoy your major,” Lydia states plainly, dragging you over by the hand to the living room couch, “because you care. Because you’ve been dreaming of taking this class for ages and convinced us all to take it with you, because you said it’s the best the school has to offer.”

Pouting, you whine, “I want to care less.”

“Have you texted Aemond? Maybe he has ideas?”

You level her with a frown. “He actually hates me. I think he took pity on my soul to work with me; he could see a sad, lonely me standing in the corner with no partner. It was like gym class back in high school all over again —”

“Now that is dramatic,” Lydia giggles, choking a little on her wine. “From where I was standing, he only looked at you with mild disdain.”

“You know, from Aemond Targ, that’s practically a love declaration. Move over, Mr. Darcy.”

Groaning, you press your fingers to the bridge of your nose and tug out your phone. His contact is there, in the form of ‘Ae-hole’ — for asshole, naturally. It brings a little — slightly evil — grin to your lips that has Lydia leaning in closer to see what it is you’re laughing at.

“How should I start…?”

Lydia stares into your eyes, giving you an ‘are you serious’ look. “Hello might be a good start, you weirdo.”

Waving a hand in front of you with a swirling flourish, you begin, “Hello, Partner. I hope this is a good time — although, seeing as it’s seven on a Friday night…I would say it’s a little sad if you’re already sleeping —”

“Babe,” Lydia warns, cutting you off.

Backspace, backspace, backspace. “I hope you’re having a good afternoon. Thank you again for showing mercy, it means a lot to little ol’ me. You’re probably wondering why I’m texting you on a Friday night. Well — shit! I accidentally sent it.”

There’s silence in your shared apartment, and you chug the remainder of your wine glass in anticipation. Holding out a pathetic hand, Lydia snatches your cup and refills yours and her own, dropping back down beside you on the sofa. Little dots appear on your phone screen, and then —

Ae-hole: I am wondering why you’re texting me at all, actually.

A knife emoji is typed out, but Lydia tuts and you backspace. “I wasn’t actually going to send it,” you tell her, blanching.

“Sure you weren’t.”

Ae-hole: I’m assuming you want to talk about the project?

“He is so charming,” you drawl, practically seething at your phone.

Fingers press against the keyboard, striking swiftly with your next words — and backspacing the ones that are a little more colorful and mildly offensive (Lydia’s suggestion, naturally). In the end, you settle on: ‘I was wondering if you had any ideas. Anything you’re passionate about? You seem…refined and…worldly. Hop, skip, and a jump across the world and all of that. Isn’t that the saying?’

Ae-hole: I’m from England, not Mars.

“Well isn’t he a ray of bloody sunshine,” you grind out, pressing your phone screen to your forehead in exasperation. “This is useless.”

Another text comes through a second later.

Ae-hole: I’ll think about it. Let’s bounce ideas back and forth over the weekend. How is that?

——

Clothes bounce and roll around in the dryer when the first texts come through. Aemond’s suggestions are intriguing enough, sure, but you’re hours deep into two week’s worth of laundry, so it shouldn’t really be much of a surprise when you hop up onto one of the folding tables and type out. ‘How do we feel about Khal Drogo?’ — Just to get a rise out of him.

The buzzer goes off on your machine and you begin folding when he finally replies. Part of you wishes you might see the look on his face when he reads the message to himself, watching those little bubbles appear and disappear multiple times before he must have finally hit ‘send.’

Ae-hole: Are you quite…passionate about Khal Drogo?

A giggle spills from you, drawing the attention of a woman reading a gossip magazine that touts the latest scandal. Her lip curls at the loud interruption, and you wonder if you might get kicked out of your favorite laundromat should a folded pair of socks end up as a projectile object.

‘I mean…have you seen the old drawings? Call me Khaleesi, am I right?’

His reply comes quickly. Almost instantly, really.

Ae-hole: Striking Khal Drogo and any related topics off the list.

‘Rude.’

Ae-hole: I didn’t complain when I crossed out ‘Free Folk migration patterns’ earlier.

‘Aemond, no one is passionate about that.’

——

It’s Saturday night and you’re out to dinner with Lydia and Chase at some fancy Italian restaurant that definitely pushes your ramen noodle budget.

They’re talking wedding plans, bridesmaids dresses, and groomsmen and you’re scrolling through social media, flicking past reels and memes and you land on a history meme with a familiar face that has you reaching for your cell phone.

‘What about this: Hodor, man, myth, or legend that he is?’

You attach the photo for reference, at which Aemond reacts with a thumbs down.

Ae-hole: Sometimes I wonder if you’re being serious or if you’re just trying to screw with me.

Lydia raises a brow your way, head tilting at the smile that unknowingly blooms across your lips. “Are you good over there?”

“Huh?” Lifting your head, you snap to attention, “What were we talking about?”

“We were talking about our entrance songs. I wanted to get your opinion…” Lydia trails off, leaning over to try and see who you’re texting. You tuck it away into your back pocket, feeling your cheeks burn hot. “But it seems like you’re elsewhere. It’s fine, I’ll let you keep your secrets, you weirdo.”

And maybe, just maybe, as Lydia leans back in to throw her ringed hand over her fiancé’s arm, you sneak off to go to the bathroom to text back your history partner.

‘Hodor is NEVER a laughing matter.’

It’s worth it, if only because it’s the most fun you’ve been in a bit…even if he doesn’t reply.

——

“I always hated this next season,” Lydia sighs, leaning back against the mountain of pillows you’ve lined around the floors for your TV binge night.

“We can stop after this one if we want? Pretend it doesn’t exist.”

“No,” she decides, “let’s keep going.”

These nights have become a weekly thing over the years — a way to keep the ‘Sunday Scaries’ at bay. You wonder how soon that’ll change once she’s married and living with Chase, but decide not to dwell on that for now.

Instead you return your attention to the screen, where Jon Snow and Danaerys Targaryen are sleeping together for the first time, unknowing of his parentage. It’s a loose retelling and wrought with historical inaccuracies, you know this, of the history of Westeros — but it’s also highly addictive. Unfortunately, the last season of the show adaptation, right before it was sadly canceled, truly left much to be desired. Still, it remains your favorite, and you rewatch religiously with your best friend, often turning to it as a comfort show.

It’s only then, your body cocooned beneath a fluffy blanket, that a sudden idea strikes you.

‘What about dragons?’

Your mind jumps to the CGI dragons that you’ve seen on your screen, the ones you’ve seen in textbooks and children’s books growing up. Great beasts with large wings — tails, talon, and teeth that could rip one to shreds. People rode on them back in the day, soaring high above the world, immense power beneath them — one with them.

Ae-hole: The Targaryen family?

‘Yeah, don’t you find all of that so interesting? I mean, they rode on dragons, Aemond!’

The next episode of your show begins, Lydia’s face awash in the bright light as the HBO logo flashes there in the reflection of her glasses. “Have you guys settled on a topic yet?” she asks, gesturing to the phone in your hand.

“Not yet,” you mutter, reading his next message. “But I think we might be getting close.”

Ae-hole: It was also a really…abysmal time. All of it, really. Starting from Aegon and ending with Daenerys.

‘Killed by her lover.’

Ae-hole: How most love stories end, it seems.

‘Don’t know what kind of love stories you’ve read but — anyway! I feel like there is so much there. We could start researching and try to find something that intrigues us?’

Ae-hole: I admit it’s an area I haven’t read much about. It’s one of those things in classes they talk about so briefly. Which was always so strange, seeing as not only did the family line die out — but the dragons, too.

‘See! Look at us, coming to our first ever agreement. I’ll let you enjoy the rest of your Sunday. We can text tomorrow about when we want to meet up and start honing in on our topic. Sounds good?’

Ae-hole: Yeah, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

“Well?” Lydia asks, and you’re smiling, endlessly smiling.

“It seems we have a topic,” you tell her, flopping onto your stomach, reaching into the popcorn bowl to fish out an M&M in the mix of salty goodness. “Finally.”

“You two seem to be getting along,” she says, and it’s the tone in her voice, the searching within it, that has you turning your head and narrowing your eyes. Innocence blooms in the jut of her bottom lip, in the tilt of her head. “What?”

“He’s my partner,” you remind her, shaking visions of his dark and stormy features out of your head when they announce themselves unbidden in your mind’s eye. “And he’s kind of an asshole. Now let me watch my silly history show in peace, woman!”

——

Corner Street Coffee sits a few blocks away from Columbia University, sitting quite literally on a corner of a street. The money isn’t great, but the customers are, and you’ve found that after a few years working here, it’s one of your favorite places to be other than the library studying away.

“What can I get you?” Your voice is bubbly and bright as expected of you.

You’ve been running around behind the glass case for hours, sweat likely dotting your forehead and hair a mess, the morning rush finally behind you, when your next customer appears before you. As you lift your head, air spills from your lungs in a giant rush. Standing there is none other than Aemond Targ in all his glory — as in, he’s dressed down for once. His usual dress shirt has been swapped for a simple black tee shirt that shows off way too much of his arms and a pair of dark wash jeans.

“Is it typical that you stare at your customers for this long?” he queries, head tilting to the side.

“I’ve just never seen you outside of the classroom,” you admit, though that’s not true. If you’re being honest, you’ve seen him at the library often. He keeps to himself there, always settled at a table or on one of the couches, typically positioned by a window to watch the bustling city move and swirl below. Shaking your head rapidly, you continue, “Just…surprised me, is all.”

“Hm.”

“Can I get you a coffee then?” You whirl around, reaching out to grasp a cup in hand. “Black, perhaps?”

“Is that a remark on my soul?” he asks, stepping in closer to the counter.

“Let it be known on the record that you said that,” you laugh, writing out his name on the top of the cup, “not me. So, what does Aemond Targ like to start his…afternoons?” The clock reads noon, you notice as you squint a bit. Fortunately, or unfortunately for you, there are no other customers waiting to be served. Most have settled into their studies or chatting with friends along the many tables positioned around the building perimeter.

“An Americano, black, two sugars.”

Maybe you’re dreaming, maybe you expect too much from him, but when you narrow your eyes his way the corner of his mouth twitches — and it’s the closest thing to a smile you’ve seen on his face, and you’ll take it as a small victory to kick off the next few weeks with him.

“I actually came here to proposition you —”

“That sounds sexy,” your coworker, Markus, teases as you pass him Aemond’s cup along to be made.

Aemond ignores him, focusing on you as he continues, “It…might be outlandish. And you can say no, though I’d be a little upset as I’ve already done something impulsive.”

“I’m listening.”

He runs his tongue along his bottom lip. “Come with me to London.”

Your stomach drops, because there’s no way he said what he has. “You say it so casually,” you prattle mockingly, an overly airy lilt to your words, “‘come with me to London,’ he says. I have a job, Aemond. And what are you…rich or something? We’re broke college students, and I’m pretty sure tickets to London are expensive.”

Aemond gives a little dismissive, blasé shrug. So he’s rich, rich.

“His father, Viserys, is quite literally the Hotel King,” Markus interrupts, handing Aemond his coffee over the counter. His lip ring glints as he points to the building across the street and says, “T Hotel.”

You’re contemplating how you haven’t quite put two and two together about the fact you never even realized his name was on a building you stared at every day as your manager, Solene, appears from counting money in the back room.

“Take her off our hands,” Solene orders. “She hasn’t asked for a day since her accident.”

“Hm.” Aemond sips his drink, eying you wearily. “Accident?”

Changing the subject, because that’s not a light conversation at all to be had with a literal stranger, you tell her, “He’s trying to steal me away for a long time…like — well, how long?”

“Five weeks,” Aemond says, like it’s the simplest thing he’s said all afternoon.

Your head whips around, brows high on your forehead. “Five weeks?! You can’t be serious.”

Another shrug. “I figured we needed the time for research.”

Markus whistles. Solene’s lips curl into a feral grin full of scheming and plotting and you want to be mad but your heart swells instead. “She’s due for a vacation. I can’t get rid of her; even when she’s off she’s here.” A pause, and then, “In fact, you’re fired for the next five weeks. Effective immediately.”

Eye twitching, you raise a finger at Markus and Solene. “You’re traitors.” Markus chuckles. “Both of you!”

“Goodbye,” Solene sing-songs, waving at you as you untie your apron from around your waist and toss it onto a nearby hook. “Enjoy London. It’ll be your first time abroad. Take lots of pictures!”

Aemond trails behind you on your way outside, the door swinging shut behind you both with a lyrical chime. He takes it upon himself to grab the nearest chair and pull it out for you, tipping his head in the slightest so you get the memo and drop down onto it. Once you’re settled, he joins on the other side, taking another sip of his drink, anticipating your latest outburst.

“Five weeks?” Heart hammering, you run your fingers along your bare forearm, trying to wake yourself from whatever fantastical dream you’ve found yourself caught within. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a lot of money,” you remind him, chewing on your bottom lip, “I can pay you back in installments, I just can’t afford it out right at this moment. I just paid my rent and my phone bill and I —”

“Don’t worry about it.” Another sip. “My family flies so much, it was basically free. I always go home for the summer, so I figured I might bring you with me. For the project.”

“Right,” you whisper, voice trailing in the wake of the thoughts swirling around in your head, “for the project. And you’re certain you want me there?”

“Yes —”

“That’s five weeks of constant me. I’m an early riser. I start the day with a run — not really, but maybe I’ll take up running in England.”

“Hm.”

“I also snore. I get car sick on long rides. I’m a serial music-changer.”

“Serial music-changer?”

You nod. “I can’t listen to the same song for more than thirty seconds before changing it. It’s an impulse or something, I don’t know how to stop it.”

“It’s not that unusual,” he states, a little too calmly, “you remind me of my brother, Aegon, in a lot of ways. Will you stop trying to talk me out of my decision?”

Your fingers snap together. “What about your family? Won’t you want to see them?”

“Naturally.” His head dips. “My mother already knows you’re coming with me for the project. She’s asked that you come along — if you’re open to that, of course. She and my father like to host.”

“Oh.” Your fingers toy with the hem of your shirt. “I mean…if it’s no trouble —”

“Then it’s settled.” He rises to his feet. “You’ll come?”

Standing to join him, you say, “Yeah.” You grab your things. “I’m temporarily fired anyway, thanks to you.”

He stares at you evenly, eyes glazed over a bit in thought. “Which way is your apartment?”

Your eyes narrow, not quite understanding his meaning. “Uhm…”

“To walk you home,” he supplies, with what you might call a groan, only it’s much more reserved than any sound you might have produced of the same nature.

“Oh, you don’t…” Words trail off at the glare he shoots you. A thumb is thrown over your shoulder, head tipping in the way of home. Aemond dips his head, following your lead. “Thank you.”

The roads are busy even for this time of day, bodies brushing your’s and Aemond’s as you walk. Cars honking greet your ears, the familiar smell of exhaust in your lungs. Summer hasn’t fully rained down on New York City’s streets, but it’s always warmer here — clings in a way that it doesn’t anywhere else. Part of you wants to ask Aemond why he chose to study in the place you’ve lived all your life, but the words dry up in your throat, caught in the nervousness like sticky tar in your belly.

“So you’ve never been out of the country?” Aemond’s voice carries over the chatter of a group of women out to brunch, the open doors of a restaurant spilling sound onto sidewalks.

You haven’t really been much of anywhere. New York, Long Island here and there — Florida, for a girl’s trip. The past few years haven't really been conducive for traveling, as it is.

“Nope.” You pop the ‘p,’ glancing at him over your shoulder. “This will be my first time.”

“Hm.”

It’s quiet again, save for the world around you and the flip-flop of your shoes beneath you. You’re only made aware you’ve arrived at your apartment building when you step up onto the curb in front of it and Aemond calls your name. It sounds so…odd coming from him; coming from someone who you’ve rarely spoken to, but was always aware was living life in the background of yours.

“Oh — this is my place.”

“Okay.” He tosses his drink into a nearby garbage can, and you can’t help the way your eyes linger on the curves of his arms, the defined ridges of muscle there.

“Look, I’m really grateful that you want to bring me home with you but it feels like too much, and I —”

“Please,” he starts, cutting you off, “it’s really nothing.”

To you, to you it’s everything. It’s…an opportunity you’ve never had before.

“Okay.” Your bottom lip settles between your teeth. It’s decided, then. “When do we leave?”

“I’ll be here to pick you up Friday at four for our flight at seven”

“In the afternoon?”

“Morning.”

Your throat bobs with a swallow. “Okay, four in the morning. We’ll get coffee?”

In the light, you think he almost smiles. Almost. “We’ll get coffee.”

“Have a good day,” he says, jolting you from your silent reverie. “Friday, remember.”

“Friday.”

Waving goodbye, you open the door behind you, slipping into the main area and rushing up the stairs leading to your floor. People passing by throw themselves against the stair railing as you barrel past, your shouts of ‘sorry’ and ‘excuse me’ doing little against the suddenness of your exhilaration. But you’re on a mission. You’re reeling — spinning like a top, brain moving a mile a minute. Trying to plan outfits in your mind, dreaming of potential excursions, trying to process that you’re finally getting away after long years of being stuck in one place. Sure, you’ll be working on a project as well, but it’s one of those ‘once in a lifetime’ sort of experiences that has fallen into your lap, the kind of thing that only happens in movies, and you’re not going to put it to waste.

Lydia’s watching Love Island without you (rude) as you enter, and just as another bombshell enters the villa, you enter the apartment, shrieking, “You will never guess what just happened!”

——

[charlotte-fleming]

Do you ever think about the ghosts immediately after their deaths, the ones we didn't see? Robin being so alone for so so long, Mary running away from the stake and hiding as far away as she could, the Captain watching Havers try to conceal his mourning, Pat trying to follow the kids as they run to get an adult. Hmm. I'm so very normal about this.

[justwhisperingfantasies]

I can't let you go. Part 1.

Characters: Sam Winchester x Female Reader, Dean Winchester, Castiel. Bobby Singer. Crowley. Mention of other SPN characters.

Warnings: Language, Implied Smut. Steamy scene, A little fluff, Angst, Hurt Dean, Sam, Reader, and Cas. Guns, Cannon violence. Cannon with a twist. Slight panic attack. Let me know if I forgot any.

Summary: You have known Sam Winchester most of your life. He was your best friend and you were completely in love with him. The day after he decides to take on Lucifer and put him back in the cage is the day he finally makes himself tell you how he truly feels about you.

Word count: 5,634 words

A/N: My first fic for Sam. I'm sorry this one took a little longer. Hope ya'll enjoy 💗

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You had your phone on vibrate but the constant buzzing woke you. You pulled the pillow over your head and waited for it to stop. Finally, you thought. 

And then it started right back up again. You got up in a huff. You didn't even look at the screen. You flicked the phone open. 

“What?!”  

“Wow, I forgot how grumpy you are when someone wakes up.” He chuckled. 

“Sam?!” You sat up, turned the lamp on, and looked at the clock. “It's 2 in the freaking morning? What's wrong?” 

“Why would something Be wrong?”

“Because it's 2 in the freaking morning and you're a Winchester. It's usually bad news if a Winchester calls you in the middle of the night.” 

“Ouch. True, but still ouch.” 

“Can I call you back in the morning? I've had a really long day and need sleep.”

He paused for a second“What were you hunting?”

“Saaaam” You whined. 

“ I miss my best friend. Alright? You have been avoiding me since…” He trailed off

“Since Ellen and Jo died. And I haven't been avoiding you, Sam.” 

“ Oh come on. I've called you about 100 times and how many of those calls have you returned? Admit it.” 

“We can discuss this in the morning.” 

“(y/n)..” You heard him say as you were about to close your phone. You hesitated. Why shouldn't you just close it? Why did you have to go running every time Sam Winchester called you? You sighed. Because he was your best friend and you were completely in love with him.

“Sam?” You said still in a grumpy tone. 

“Are you close to Bobby's?” 

“About 3 hours away.”

“So with your lead foot more like 2?”

“Saaaaamm..” You whined again

“I Need you.”

Fucking hell. Why? Why? Why? Why did he have to pull the  I need You card? So unfair. 

You groaned Into the phone loudly. “Let me get dressed and have some coffee.”

“I love you.” 

It felt like a kick to the gut whenever he said that to you. Of course, it wasn't the way you wanted. “Yea yea, Winchester.” you closed your phone, got up, and got dressed. After filling Your thermos up with coffee you hit the road and you cursed him the whole way there.

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When you got to Bobby's it was a little after 4 am. Sam was sitting on the porch. His face lit up when he saw you. You hated that. You hated even more that you came. You swore to yourself you would grow a backbone and stop chasing him. But he needed you and you really couldn't stop yourself. With a deep breath, you opened your door. He was hugging you before you could even get the door shut. He picked you up and started spinning you around.

“Samuel William Winchester put me down now!!”

He laughed and put you down but kept you wrapped in a hug. You couldn't help but hug him back. “Sammy. What's wrong?” 

“Like I said I miss my best friend.”

“You can't lie to me. What's wrong?”

“I haven’t seen you for like 3 months. Can we have 5 minutes please?”

“OK five minutes.” you inhaled his scent of vanilla and cedar with a Hint of honey. God, it was intoxicating. And just like that you were putty in his hands. Crap you thought.  

He squeezed you and then released the hug. 

“Thanks for coming.” He said walking to the rear of your truck. 

You put Your hands in your jacket pockets and followed him. “Like I had a choice.” 

“ (y/n) Of course you had a choice “ He leaned Against Your tailgate. 

“Right.” You said in a sarcastic tone. 

He smiled. Then gave you a serious look. 

“ Come on. Out with it.” you nudged him out of the way so you could put the tailgate down. You hopped up to sit on it. 

“ Dean said no to Michael. Nobody thought he would be able to resist..” he paused. 

“Isn't that a good thing?” 

“Yes and no. The angels got Adam to say yes.” he stood up and started pacing. 

“Christ!” 

“So the fight between Michael and Lucifer is sure to happen now... Lucifer is trying to hold out. He thinks I'll end up saying yes. And he has some kind of magical hold on death now. Then there's Pestilence with some crazy virus up his sleeve. Everything Got so fucked up so fast (Y/n).” He stopped pacing and turned to face you.

You could see the tears in his eyes. You grabbed him and pulled him into your Embrace. His arms were around you again and his head in the crook of your neck. 

“Sammy we will find a way. I promise I will do anything I can to help.”

“ I already thought of a way. And just remember that promise as I tell you.”

You tried to detach from the hug, but he tightened his hold. You gave up and kept hugging. 

“ I think I have a way to get Lucifer back in the cage. If we can get all 4 rings from the horsemen we can open it.” 

“OK But how would you get Lucifer back…. “

The whole world stopped. He wasn't actually considering.” Sam, please tell me you're not thinking what I think you're thinking.”

He sighed. “How do you do that?” 

“Do what?”

“Read my mind.”

Your eyes were full of tears now. And you held him tighter than you ever had. “Sammy.”

“You promised you would do anything…. Even if that meant letting me go?”

“No!” your voice cracked. 

“(Y/n)” he whispered 

“Sam, absolutely not.” 

“It's the only way to save the world.”

“Fuck the world.”  

He released his arms and rested his hands on the trunk by your hips. He leaned his forehead against yours. “You don't mean that,” he was still whispering. 

You crossed your arms on your chest and closed your eyes. There's no way you were ever going to be ok with this. “Oh, but I do. If you're not here I don't give a shit if the world survives.” He wiped away the tear that rolled down your cheek. 

“Babe..”

“Oh no. You don't get to babe me right…” He cut you off by kissing you. You pushed him back a little. “Sam what the hell? You can't tell me you're Going to let the devil possess you and then kiss me.” 

“You're Right.” he sighed with eyes full of shame  “I'm sorry.”

How dare he. Make a move now? Now? Why not 11 years ago? That didn't really matter now, can't change the past. Either the world is going to end or you're going to lose him. So why not? 

You grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him back to you so he was standing between your knees, He wrapped his left arm around you and his right hand found your neck spreading his finger he rubbed your cheek with his thumb.“ You sure?” He whispered his lips inches from yours. You Slid your fingers up into his hair and nodded. His lips smashed into yours. Your heart thudded in your chest as you felt his desire through his kiss. The fire ran from your lips down to your core. 

He let out a growl as you gripped his hair and pulled lightly. He grabbed behind your knees and pulled your crotch to his. The collusion sent electricity through your whole body as you moaned into his mouth. He pushed your lips open with his tongue and started massaging yours with his.  He started grinding up against you and you could feel how hard he was. That with the friction made your fire grow wild. You pulled him on top of you as you reclined your upper body back on the truck.  His lips skimmed your cheek, as they made their way to your ear, nibbling and sucking the lobe. You felt his hot breath in your ear as he whispered.  “Mmm. (y/n) I've wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on you.” taking your earlobe back into his Mouth. Sucking on it a little harder this time. You softly moaned his name. You could feel his smile on your neck as he trailed kisses down to your collarbone. He left goosebumps on your skin as he glided his hand up your thigh. Stopping at your hip, grabbing it he thrust against you once more. You moaned again. Then continue gliding it up your shirt. He stopped just below your breast. he raised his head and raised one eyebrow “No bra?”

“Some asshole woke me up at 2 in the morning and said he needed me. I didn't feel like putting one on.”

He laughed. “ just some asshole?” he asked and then started kissing your neck again. 

“Eh. I guess you can call him my best friend,” you said sarcastically. 

He smiled “Just a best friend?” he asked as he grasped your breast and thrusted again.

“Well kinda. I've always wanted him to be more. Don't tell him, but I’m planning on fucking him in the back of my truck.” you said in between moans. 

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After you guys got cleaned up and dressed you lay in the back of your truck.  He was beside you, arms wrapping you tightly and his head on your chest. You started swirling his hair in your fingers. You have had many fantasies over the years of fucking Sam and just being with him, but none of them could even come close to the reality. Every move, every noise, every time he looked in your eyes, every time he moaned your name. It was perfect. Now even just cuddling with him made your heart so full. He had your heart completely now and there was no way to get it back. You wished you could freeze time, but there was a war coming and a world to save. Plus you had to talk Sam out of the idiotic plan. 

“Sammy Not..”

“Please don't ruin this. “ He cut you off. 

“I'm not trying to ruin anything, but I have a question and I need the answer.”

He lifted his head and looked at you. “Just cuddle with me. After the sunrise, we will talk about anything you want.” 

You sighed you wanted answers, but the sky was already lit. Around another half hour and you could ask away. Plus you would be wrapped in his arms. “Fine, but I'm holding you to that, Winchester.”

He chuckled. “I know you will.” he kissed your lips. Soft and sweet. Then laid his head back on your chest. He put your hand back in his hair. You smiled and started playing with it again.

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Dean was at the kitchen counter making coffee as Bobby rolled his wheelchair in. 

“When did (y/n) get here?” Dean asked. Getting coffee mugs for all of them. 

“Not sure. Sam must have called her.” 

“I’m not sure that was the right thing to do,” he proclaimed as he poured a cup and took it over to Bobby.

“Thanks,” Bobby said as he took the coffee. “Well, she is a damn good hunter. She can probably help with this mess.”

“Yeah so we can get her killed too,” Dean said bluntly. “I'm surprised she even came after what happened to Ellen and Jo. “

“Dean. You can't blame yourself for Ellen and Jo…”

“They were helping us, Bobby.” Dean cut him off.  

“No Dean. They were trying to help the world. Not everything is about you.” Bobby said harshly as he rolled out of the room.

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The morning noises mixed with the beautiful sunset were so peaceful. You wished you could just stay in this moment with your best friend forever or was he more now? 

You heard him sigh. “Alright. We made a deal.” he sat up beside you. You sat up next to him. He took your hand in his. 

“I have known you for 11 years. If you wanted this why wait until now to make a move?”

He took a deep breath. “Well at first I thought you were into Dean.”

You laughed. “ Dean fucks anything with 2 legs Winchester? Ha no thanks.” You loved Dean, but it had always been a big brother love. Sam chuckled and his face went serious again. 

“And then everything happened with me and my dad. I finally got out. I didn't want to intrude or make you feel like I was trying to drag you out with me. You have always been 100% in the life. So I had to let you go.” 

He wrapped his arms around you and lifted you with ease. As he opened his legs he sat you between them. Leaning your back against him, he kept his arms around you and rested his chin on your shoulder. “When I walked into the roadhouse that day I could tell by the look on your face that you were hurt. I didn’t even think you’d want to be friends again. It took a while, but when we started getting close again the internal struggle came. I didn't know if I could move on without feeling like I was disrespecting Jess. I realized I was being an idiot and Jess would want me To be happy. When I called you that night and asked you to meet me, I was gonna tell you everything and I was hoping you felt the same, but then Azazel kidnapped me and that whole thing happened.  ” he snuck a quick peck on your cheek. You Smiled. “When Dean made his deal, I couldn't think About it. How could I focus on my drama while his life was on the line? Then when he went to hell I completely lost my mind. I pushed everyone away. I did a lot of shit I'm not proud of. After that, I didn't think I deserved anything good. I didn't deserve you.” You turned Your face toward his and kissed him on the cheek. You Tried to comfort him. The Moment your lips lifted off his cheek, he kissed your lips short and sweet. You leaned back into him. 

“ We have had a lot going on the last couple of months, but I couldn't stop myself from thinking of you. I know the situation is completely fucked up and I didn't expect things to go exactly the way they did. I mean I'm not complaining at all, but my Plan was just to kiss you and tell you how I felt. How I always felt. I just had to get it out before… Ya know.”

You spun your body around to face him. Looking down at him you could see the tears and fear in his eyes. You pulled him into your arms. You squeezed him as tight as you could and he reciprocated. You laid your head on his shoulder.  “Sam. I'm in love with you I always have been. I always will be. You're my best friend. My person. Please don't do this. I need You.” You couldn't hold back the tears. 

“(Y/n) I love you too.” he whispered. “ please don't ask me not to. It's the only way to get Lucifer back in the cage. It's the only way to save millions of lives. Baby, I have to.” 

You heard the screen door open and Dean's boots walking in the gravel. “ You alright (y/n)?” 

“No” You admitted. “ I can't believe.”

“Dean, give us a second. Would ya?” Sam cut you off

Dean looked At Sam with a furrowed brow. Sam raised his. 

“Uh yea. I just made a fresh pot. Don't let it go to waste huh.”  Dean said as he spun on his heels and walked back to the house. 

Sam waited until he was gone. “I'm sorry. I  wasn't trying to be rude. Dean doesn't know about the plan yet.”

“What?!”

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Sam walked in the door first. You made a B-line for the coffee pot. Dean's coffee was the best. 

Sam continued into the study. As you poured yourself a cup you could hear their conversation.

“She was crying, Sam. What the hell is going on?” Dean raised his voice. 

You didn't know if you should, but you made your way to the conversation. You leaned on the door frame.

“Dean. I have a plan..” Sam explained the whole plan. 

“Absolutely fucking not Sam!” The old Winchester was heated. 

Bobby rolled himself into the room but stayed silent.

“What The hell is wrong with you?” 

“Dean.”

“Don't Dean me. You've had some stupid ideas in the past, but this?!” Dean started to pace and saw Bobby. “Did you know about this?”

Bobby nodded

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Dean was pissed now. “ And I bet that's why (y/n) was crying. Am I the last person to know?”

“This ain't about me or her, Dean,” Bobby said

Dean turned back to Sam.“ You can't do this.” Yes talk him out of this you cheered from your mind. 

“That's the consensus.”

“Good, then this conversation is over.”

Sam looked at you. “Don't look at me, I'm with him.” You said as you pointed at Dean. 

Just then Dean's phone started ringing. “The answer is no Sam.”

He answered It as you walked back into the kitchen. You sat down at the table and sipped the last of your coffee. As you put the empty mug down, Sam walked in and grabbed it, taking it over to pour you another cup. 

“I would lecture you on how you drink waaaay too much coffee, but I doubt it would do any good.” He places the full mug in front of you and then sits on the opposite side of the table.  

“Oh, but I need caffeine. Some asshole kept me up all night.” You said with a smile. 

He laughed. “What A stupid asshole. Everyone knows how grumpy you get when you don't get enough sleep.”

“Yea he is being pretty fuckin stupid right now.” sams smile faded.

You hear Bobby yell “I will?” What was Dean putting him up to now? 

Sam took your hand and was about to say something When Dean walked in.

“That was Cas. He's human now. Bobby's gonna help me get back here.” He looked over at you guys and then down at your hands. He Raised his eyebrows once but didn't mention it. “Unless you wanna go pick him up (y/n)...” he smiled. 

You rolled your eyes. “Bobby, you wana ride along?” 

“Don't let Dean bully you darlin. You don't have to.” Bobby said wheeling into the room. 

“Ha. Trust me Dean Winchester ain't That scary. It's Cas. He's been there when we needed him. I'm not gonna say no.”  they all laughed. “One condition Though.”

“Oh of course.” Dean taunted

“I get the rest of that coffee.” You smiled. 

Dean loaded Bobby in the passenger seat of your truck while Sam Put his stuff in the backseat.  You tossed Your full, warm thermos in the front seat. And turned to the back door that Sam was shutting. 

“Are you sure you'll be alright driving?” he asked as he took a couple of steps toward you.

“Sammy I'll be fine. I've driven longer on less sleep.”

“You be careful.”

“Me be careful? I'm just going to pick up an ex-angel. You're going after a horseman.”

“I'll be careful, promise.”

Since Bobby and Dean were on The other side of your truck you were expecting just a hug. But he put his hand under your chin, raised your head, And knelt in for a kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck and his other arm around your waist. 

Bobby cleared his throat and you could feel Sam's smile. 

You both squeezed and then released. He stood there as you hopped into your truck. And he shut your door. “See You later.” You and Bobby nodded. 

Dean was standing at The driver's door of the Impala hand on the handle. “Dude,” He said as Sam walked up. 

“What?” Sam said annoyed

“It's about damn time.” 

Sam smiled as they got in. 

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Bobby was quiet for half the trip. He didn't even complain about your speeding. Finally, about Halfway there He broke the silence. 

“ ya know I Have known you kids for a long time. I've watched you pine over Sam and then Sam pine over you. I gotta say.” He paused. “ You guys have terrible Fucking timing.” 

You lightly chuckled. “You ain’t shittin ”

“It's gonna hurt like hell kid.” 

“It was gonna hurt regardless.”

“That's true. So you gonna let him do this?” Bobby asked. 

“I'm voting against it, but it's not like Winchesters listen when you tell them not to do something.” 

He huffed “Ain't that the damn truth.” he looked over at you for the first time since you left the house. “I'll be here if it happens and you need a shoulder.”

You looked back at him. “I know Bobby. I know.” 

You didn't wanna think about that Whole situation right Now. Just focus on getting Cas. Getting the rings and we will cross that bridge when we get there, you told yourself. 

“Don’t tell Sam and Dean, but it would be faster if you went alone. Just get in, grab him, and get out”

“I can take care of myself, ya know?” you said defensively. 

“I know, kid. Look, we have lost a lot of people. Me and the boys are protective, yes probably more than we should be. We just don’t wanna lose any more family. We love you (y/n).”

“I know.” you opened the door. “ I love you too Bobby.” you hopped out and closed the door. 

Cas had given Dean his room number so there was no need to stop at the front desk. You made your way up to his room. 

“(y/n), what are you doing here?” Castiel asked as you entered his room. 

“I was in the area, thought I’d stop by. Cas I’m here to get you, why else would I be here?”

“ Well obviously. Just surprised you're here by yourself.”

“Bobby is in the truck. Sam and Dean went to get Pestilence.” 

“How far away are they?”

“Not very. Let's go.”

You and Castiel had no problems getting out.

“Change of plans Bobby,” you said as you and Cas hopped in the truck. 

“ Oh hell.” Bobby groaned. 

You made It to the serenity Valley convalescent home as fast as you could. You got out and got in your toolbox. You grab your 9mm, put it in the back of your jeans, and pulled out your shotgun. 

“ What do you think you're doing?” Bobby asked. 

“Not now Bobby.” You pumped the shotgun. “Let's go Cas.” 

Cas looked at Bobby. Bobby nodded at Him to go. 

“ I know where he is I can feel him. Follow me and be careful” Cas told you as you entered the building. You guys got to the second floor before you started feeling woozy. You leaned Against the wall for support. 

“(y/n) You alright?” 

“I'm not feeling so hot. Cas go help the boys.” 

“I can't just.”

“GO!” You yelled

Castiel went on. He found the room Pestilence was in and kicked open the door. Sam and Dean were on the ground coughing up blood and barely conscious. 

“Cas?” Dean was surprised. 

Cas walked in ready to fight. He took 2 steps and fell to his knees. He was weak and could fight couldn't fight off the disease any longer. 

“Well look at that. An occupied vessel, but powerless.” Pestilence said smugly. You were almost to the door. If you could just make it to the door you could help. 

Just make it to the door…. You thought as You fell. Everything hurt. Your insides felt like they were going through a meat grinder. You were burning up, but freezing at the same time. You didn't even have the strength to cry out. 

Then suddenly all the symptoms just stopped. You felt fine. You grabbed your shotgun and Walked to the door. As you looked in the room you saw Sam and Dean getting up. Then Dean rushes to grab something off a table, Castiel Lying on his back with a demon on top of him dying from the demon blade, and Pestilence holding his bloody hand, a numb where his ring finger was. 

“Doesn't matter. It's too late.” Pestilence whispered just before disappearing. 

Sam looked back to the doorway. Disapproval In his eyes. You Guys had the ring, but everyone felt defeated. 

“Everyone okay?” Dean asked. The 3 of you nodded. “Alright then Let's go.”

Nobody said a word as you made your way outside.

“Hey Bobby, why don't you ride back with me and Cas?” Dean asked as he walked up to the passenger side of your truck. He gave Bobby a look then looked at you and Sam. 

“Yeah,” Bobby took the hint. Dean got his chair out of the bed. “We'll see you back at the house,” Bobby yelled as Dean Wheeled him over to the impala. 

You put Your guns back in the toolbox, then hopped in your truck. Sam was already sitting in the passenger Seat. You took a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh, then started the truck. 

“You sure you're ok?” Sam asked. You nodded. “You want me to drive?” You shook your head. “ Do you want the How could you be so stupid Lecture now or later?”

“Sam,” you said. 

He continued. “ You know you could have gotten killed.” 

“Sam!” You said a bit louder. He stopped talking. “ I am a grown-ass adult. I have been hunting demons and monsters Most of my life. If I want to go kick some ass I'm going to go kick some ass. I don't need you treating me like I don't know what the hell I'm doing. “ You paused. He opened his mouth but you kept Going. “ If I hadn't brought Cas here you and Dean would have died. So no, I don't think I made a stupid decision at all. And I don't think you're in a very good spot to be lecturing anyone on making stupid decisions right now.”

He closed his mouth and looked out the window. You turned Your radio on. Turn the page by Bob Seger started playing as you drove off.

Neither you nor Sam said a word on the Drive back to Bobby's. You called dibs on the shower as soon as you walked into the house. Not Stopping for approval you headed to the bathroom with your duffle bag in hand. 

You thought about the ride home as the water warmed up. Maybe You were too harsh, but it's not like what you said wasn't true. The Winchesters and Bobby needed to see that you could handle your own. You weren't some delicate Little flower. And Sam was making a stupid decision. You Hurried in the shower just in case someone else wanted it. You Got dressed in sweats and a tank top. Then you twisted your damp hair up in a messy bun. Tossing your duffle in the hallway corner you made your way into the kitchen. Bobby usually had something to eat. As you searched for food you could hear the guys talking in the study. 

“Chicago is about to be wiped off the map.” Bobby had your interest. You grabbed a bag of chips and leaned on the doorframe. “Storm of the millennium. Sets off a chain reaction of natural disasters. Three million people are gonna die.” They all just looked at each other. Bobby explains how death is going to be there and we might have a chance to get his ring. 

“Bobby, how do you know all this?” Sam asked

“I had some help.” 

You could feel his presence there before he showed himself and you smelled sulfur. “Really Bobby?!” Everyone looked at you then their eyes went to Crowley. He was pouring a drink behind you.

“Don't be so modest.  I barely helped at all.” Crowley picked up his drink and walked towards the Doorway. “Hello, boys.” 

He turned to you and eyed you up and down. 

“Hello, darling.” He said seductively. You could literally feel Sam’s anger. You rolled your eyes at Cowley and Walked back to the kitchen to put the chips away. You turned back towards them and leaned on the counter. 

Crowley walked into the study. “Go on tell them.”

“Tell us what” Sam asked. 

Bobby sighed “World's ending. Why should a soul matter?”

“You sold your soul?” Dean was shocked. 

“It's More like loaned it. “ Crowley said

“Did you kiss him?” Sam asked 

“NO!” Bobby exclaimed 

Crowley Cleared his throat and showed the Picture.

Bobby looked ashamed. 

“Ok, asshole. Give him his soul back now!” Dean stood up and started towards Crowley. 

“I'm sorry. I can’t.” Crowley explained. “That's my insurance. The Winchesters are notorious for killing demons and the princess back there has killed more than I can count. You three won’t kill me as long as I have his soul. I fully intend to return it once this is over and I walk away alive. Deal?”

Everyone stayed quiet. It's not like you had a choice. 

You just shook your head and walked outside. It was freezing, but you were so pissed and unsettled that the cold air felt good. You started walking, but you didn't know where to go, you just needed to get away. You started thinking about everything. Bobby’s Soul. Your heart started racing. The apocalypse. Your hands started shaking.  Lucifer. Your knees went weak which caused you to fall. The cage… Sam, losing Sam. Your chest became tight. You tried to take deep breaths, but your lungs were working against you. As you started gasping for air you felt arms around you. 

“You're ok. I'm here. It's ok Baby. Everything is going to be ok.” Sam’s whispered trying to comfort you “Deep Breath.” he did as he told you and you copied. He squeezed you tighter. “ Again. “ you took a deep breath with him again. “Keep going.” you both did again. He started humming an Elvis song. It was helping. 

Your chest loosened. Your hand stopped shaking. Your heartbeat returning to normal. 

“Thank you.” 

“Not a problem. You know I got you.”

“Yea.” but for how much longer? You didn't want to think about it. 

“Do you wana to talk about anything?”

“Not really. I'm going to go lie down.”

He stood up. You were still in his arms. You didn't have the energy to fight. He carried you into the house. You put your hand on his neck, covering your face with your upper arm. You didn't feel like talking to anyone. 

Everyone was sitting at the kitchen table. Cas and Dean stood up dismay on their faces. “Is she ok?” you heard Dean ask. 

“I think she might have had a slight panic attack,” Sam explained. He continued walking. “She seems better now. I'm gonna lay her in the spare bedroom.”

“Ok let us know if we can do anything,” Bobby called out. Sam nodded as he started up the stairs. 

Sam laid you on the bed. You took the wet socks off your feet and he covered you with a blanket. You rolled onto your side facing him. He sat down on the bed beside you. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn't have called you I shouldn't have drug you into my shit.”

“Shut up Sam.” you grabbed him and pulled him down to you.  He hesitated. “Samuel. I'm not ok with this whole plan, but if this is going to happen please just let me love you until you go.” 

“It might just make it harder.”

“It's going kill me either way. Please?” you pleaded. 

He gave in and laid down pulling you beside him.  You laid half of your body on him with your head on his chest. “Ya know it's not just hard on you. I finally got you and now I’m going to jump into hell.”

You leaned your head up to look at his face. “So don't do it.”

He kissed your lips. “I'm sorry. You know I can't do that.”

You nuzzled your head back down on his chest. He was so brave, so heroic, he was putting everyone else before his happiness. You couldn't be mad at him for that. Those were some of the reasons you loved him. “I know babe. I know.” you closed your eyes. Listening to his heartbeat you drifted off to sleep.

><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><

Dean was getting the Impala ready. Sam walked up and leaned on the side of it with a heavy sigh.

Dean leaned around the trunk, “Let me guess, we’re about to have a talk?”

“Look, Dean, I agree with you. You think I’m too weak to take on Lucifer. So do I. I know I’m a screw-up. You, Bobby, (y/n), Cas. I’m the least outta all of us.”

“Sam.”

“It’s True. And if there was another way I'd do it in a heartbeat. I don’t want to leave you guys and I do not want to hurt her again, but I don't think there's another way.”

“Annnnd scene.” Crowley was standing on the other side of the impala. “There's something you need to see.”

Sam read the headline Crowley pointed at. It was about the swine flu outbreak and how Niveus Pharmaceuticals was releasing a vaccine on Wednesday.  Crowley helped them put together that Niveus was run by demons and the vaccine they were releasing was full of the Croatoan virus.

“Eh. Quite a plan.” Sam said

“So you boys better stock up on uh everything because come next Thursday we will be living in Zombieland,” Crowley remarked.

“Fucking great,” Dean said irate. 

><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><[]><

Part 2

[azrielwingspan]

DISTRACTIONS (AZRIEL X OC)- PART 1

Distractions is a collection of short stories whose main characters are Azriel and Nyra (OC).

It's established that there is some heavy tension between them (everyone suspects lol) and I decided to put into words a few visualizations I've had of the both of them just pining for each other, playing hard to get, flirting, a bit of angst, some fluff and overall just being HELLA CUTE OKAY.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is PART 1 !!!

Summary :

The IC , Nyra and a couple of mutual friends decide to stay in for a night and celebrate the success of one of their more important missions. A bit of alcohol and a cozy setting can do wonders.

Warnings: Nothing major. Lots of drinking, fluff if you squint your eyes.

"Okay, bring out the expensive wine. I'm sick of whatever crap this is." Cassian said making a disgusted face at the glass of wine in his hand. Nesta, curled up by his side on the love seat in front of the fireplace , smirked at him over the rim of her peppermint teacup.

"That would've been possible.." drawled Rhys from the wingback chair adjacent to the fireplace "if you hadn't made it your life goal to rid my wine cellar of it's most expensive occupants."

A few chuckles rose around the room and Cassian scowled , halfheartedly taking a sip from the crap wine in his hand.

Despite the lack of good wine, everyone was in good spirits that day. The parlor in Rhysand's and Feyre's Riverhouse was occupied by their closest group of friends who were finally able to let loose after weeks of intense work. The fireplace cast a cozy glow over the dark wood furniture with emerald green accents and provided a warm embrace against the frigid rain lashing against the windows.

The smell of alcohol , rain and smoky cedar mixed in with the quiet chattering of the occupants , sometimes interrupted by a boisterous laugh set everyone's senses at ease and lulled them into comfort.

"I heard the party started without me."

Heads whipped towards the doorway of the parlor where Nyra stood grinning with her hands behind her back. Dressed in a gold satin dress with dark hair in a braid, her green eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Well..." said Nicolai, her best friend since childhood, "you are two hours late." He glanced at the clock placed on the mantel above the fireplace.

"I am aware. Which is whyyyy..." Nyra brought her hands forward showing everyone the two bottles of tequila she'd managed to buy before showing up.

Cheers erupted through the room, Cassian nearly jumping out his seat. Mor tackled her in a hug saying "Thank the Cauldron. I was ready to fall asleep."

She was pulled into the room , bottles taken out of her hand and replaced with shot glasses. A grin was etched onto her face as everyone assembled near the fire place to take their first shots together.

Nyra was trying very hard. She really was. She was putting every ounce of her willpower towards not looking at the male at the periphery of her vision. Being in the same room as him was enough to make her heart stutter and set off a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. Her body was attuned to his every movement and he was the first thing her mind directed her to in any room.

She would've gone straight to him and spent the entire evening by his side but this thing between them was becoming too evident. She would be asked questions that she didn't have an answer to. She wasn't ready to face that. Not yet. Perhaps she was a coward but she didn't want to face that either. That's how she had survived for so long and she wasn't keen on facing those parts of her anytime soon. There were more important things to focus on.

"To us. The dreamers and conquerors." Rhys raised his shot glass in the air and everyone followed him. Once the shots were downed, a few coughs erupting as the burn of the alcohol kicked in, Nyra made her way through the crowd talking to everyone she knew.

She would speak to him last. She could spend the most time with him. She almost rolled her eyes at her own thoughts and tried to focus on her companions words. She'd sneaked a peek at him because she couldn't help herself and her stomach lurched at how devastatingly handsome he looked. Wearing a simple black shirt unbuttoned at the top , the firelight falling across half his face making the deep tan of his skin glow against the stark contrast of his shadows, hazel eyes that were glazed from the alcohol he had consumed, he looked ravishing good. He stood near the chest of drawers, an elbow placed on the surface of the chest lazily while the other hand held his glass of...whisky. She would know for sure if she kissed him.

She had immediately turned away , not trusting herself to stop staring if she started and tried to give her undivided attention to her companion. She might have zoned out on his face multiple times because he seemed to take the hint and end the conversation before she made a bigger fool of herself.

"NYRA!" Feyre called from the other side of the room, where she was perched on the chair that Rhys occupied. She made her way to Feyre all the while being aware of the set of hazel eyes that trailed her.

Don't look. Don't look. Don't you dare.

Successfully making it without tripping on her dress or making lovesick eyes at a certain male, she listened to Feyre update her on what had happened in her absence. A couple more shots and drinks were consumed during their gossip session with Mor. Nyra had reached a point where she let out a laugh at every single thing that came out of Feyre's mouth. That tequila had done its job too well. She'd forgotten how many shots she had until that point but judging by the lightness in her head and the slight spin around her , she had enough.

Realizing it was time to sit down before she split her head on the floor, she turned around looking for an empty seat. She found one at the other end of the parlor but it didn't look as enticing as the chaise lounge chair where Azriel was seated speaking to another male. There's just enough space for her to squeeze in. She'd reached a point where her intrusive thoughts couldn't be ignored anymore.

Letting her alcohol addled mind take over, she excused herself from the fizzing out gossip session and made her way over to Azriel. His eyes shot to her the moment she moved, making her think that he'd been keeping note of where she was the entire night. Her heart pounded harder with that thought and she forced herself to breathe normally. Hazel eyes finally clashed with hers and she couldn't help that child like joy that lit up her face. She wasn't this bad during her teenage years either ugh. What had this male done to her?

A small smirk curled his lips while his eyes shone with amusement. The bastard had known. He'd known that she was trying to avoid speaking with him till now. He had known and he had waited for her to come to him because Azriel knew that she couldn't fucking stay away.

She tried not to fidget under the intense gaze that he had fixated on her as she walked towards him. The male he was speaking to rattled on and Azriel interrupted him muttering in a low tone all the while not taking his eyes off of her. Nyra didn't know if it was the alcohol causing the heat to flush her face or if it was something else. Someone else. The male he was talking to found elsewhere to be.

"Hi." she whispered looking down at him and trying to control the whirlwind in her mind. "Hi." he whispered back looking up at her , his eyes holding promises of things she didn't let herself wonder about. He shifted on the seat hinting at her to sit down.

Maneuvering herself around a table, she fit herself into the space next to him trying not to sigh in content at the immediate cocoon of warmth that enveloped her. His scent invaded her senses and seemed to be more potent than the alcohol she had. The entire room seemed to vanish when it was just the both of them and she grateful that they were seated in a dark corner of the room.

"I think you're going a little cross eyed there." Azriel said throwing an arm behind her on the couch. She wanted to lean into him until there was no space left in between. "I think I see two of you." Double the fun.

He let out a raspy laugh that set shivers running down her back. They were so close but not close enough. His shadows faded into the darkness behind leaving the both of them blanketed in glimmers of firelight running across their skin.

"And here I thought avoiding one of me was a hard task for you." he said , eyes shimmering gold in the firelight.

"Not that hard truly. I just have to keep away from dark corners."

"Corners like this?"

"Exactly like this."

"And yet here you are."

"You seemed desperate to talk to me. So I decided to put you out of your misery."

"Did I now?"

"Oh yes you did."

"Well thankyou for putting me out of my misery, Nyra." He had a wonderful way of saying her name. The R came out with a trill, a habit he had picked up from her as a way of mocking her.

"You're welcome Shadowsinger. I do need a favor in return though." she said bringing up the glass of whatever was in there upto her lips while keeping her eyes glued to him.

"Favour?" he asked ,eyes trailing the movement of the glass to her lips. She might have taken an unnaturally long sip to keep his eyes trained on her mouth.

"Yes." she said breathily watching his eyes flick back to her.

Too far. This was going too far and too fast.

Clearing her throat she said "I demand to be taken to the pastry shop that everyone here seems to rave about. If there's anything to put me out of my misery, it's deliciously sweet pastries."

"Pastries? You know I've heard people say I can be deli--"

"Don't finish that sentence." she said fighting the laughter ready to erupt.

He raised his free hand in mock surrender and tipped back his glass of whisky. She could smell it now. A kiss could could confirm though.

She stole a glance at the tattoos peeking out of his shirt as he turned away from her to place the now empty glass on the floor beside them. He turned back towards her stunning her with the intensity of his gaze.

"Do you want to go now?" he asked shifting himself into a more comfortable position. His arm continued to rest behind her.

"Now? It's the middle of the night."

"I know."

Nyra blinked once, the only indication of her confusion.

"I'm sure the baker would go beyond working hours to put a beautiful woman out of her misery. I've heard he's quite charming."

Nyra was sure that the heat rushing to her face was not the alcohol this time. It was such a cheesy line and yet she almost fanned herself to get rid of the red staining her cheeks.

Azriel who never missed anything especially when it came to her, laughed quietly earning a smack on the arm.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink for tonight.” Nyra said trying to collect herself.

“I think I need more now that you’re here.”

“Funny. I was thinking the exact same thing.”

“I think every male requires a bit of liquid courage to be around you.”

“Am I that torturous?”

“You’re resplendent.”

“Is that your new word of the week?”

“One of the many for you.”

“Why Az, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to charm me.”

“You don’t know better then.”

Nyra shut her mouth not knowing what to say. Azriel was much more talkative today. The alcohol had loosened him up and they were crossing into dangerous territory. Nyra would be lying if she told herself she wasn’t getting a rush from it.

“Charmed?” He asked breaking into her thoughts. They’d leaned a little closer to each other in the past few minutes. She was able to smell the heady mix of alcohol and cedar on him that muddled up her brain.

Maybe it was the sudden surge of confidence due to the alcohol or maybe it was the way Azriel was looking at her that made her want to play along.

She leaned even closer , stopping an inch from his face and let her breath wash over his lips as she said “You have to try much harder than that, Shadowsinger.”

His eyes flashed with surprise and desire. They’d never gotten this close to each other before. They really were cartwheeling across the invisible lines they had drawn for themselves today.

A grin broke out on his face sparking something in her chest that made her feel content. He was beautiful. She wanted him.

“I like a bit of a challenge. Things were starting to get boring around here.” He said as his eyes roved over her face as if he were trying to memorise every inch of her.

“Is that what I am? A challenge?” she questioned letting her free hand trace the markings on the ring he wore. She felt him stiffen beneath her touch and felt an absurd amount of satisfaction.

“An enigma.”

“Another word for me?”

“Only for you.”

Her mouth went dry at the stampede of emotions running through her causing her to wet her lips. Azriel attention honed in on that movement and her breath hitched at the predatory focus directed towards her.

After a beat of heavy silence, he gave her another lazy smile and moved away dropping his head back against the couch.

The firelight highlighted his onyx hair and she fisted her palms to stop herself from moving away a stray piece of hair from his face. She needed to leave. If this went any farther, she was reckless enough right now to cross a line they would never come back from.

As if hearing and agreeing with her thoughts, Azriel lifted his head and said to her “Get some sleep. I’ll take you to the pastry shop tomorrow morning. We’ll see how much of your misery can be taken care of.”

She tried to ignore the twinge of disappointment as he removed the hand from behind her. He was leaving. He paused his movements, suddenly studying her face intensely as if he were trying to decide on something.

The next thing she knew, a warm caress of lips touched her bare shoulder igniting a fire within her. Her head went silent, unable to process what just occurred.

“Good night.” His lips brushed the shell of her ear, his breath setting off goosebumps. Her entire body flushed with heat and before she could mutter her response, he left.

She saw him leave the parlor and realised that everyone had already left for the night. She hadn’t even noticed.

Pouring herself another glass of wine with her only companion being the soft pattering of rain against the windows , Nyra realised she was fucked .

Truly, utterly, completely fucked.

[eredins-a-king-aint-he]

Hey jsyk y’all, if you continue to give hatred an audience, the hatred will have someone to continue spewing to and won’t stop

If someone sends you hateful messages, they are looking to hurt, to enrage, or to somehow otherwise provoke a reaction. The best thing you can do is to not react. Report, block, and move on with your day

If you take away someone’s audience and stop giving them a listening ear to yell into, they will eventually give up, and even if they don’t, it doesn’t matter, because no one will be paying attention to them anyway

I highly encourage anyone and everyone to try to promote positivity in their fandom circles instead—it will lift you and your friends up instead of dragging you down into angry bottomless pits, I promise!!

Make excited lore/character study posts about your fav!!! Do a little deep dive into your favorite ship and try writing/drawing in a new au!!!Explore a background character with a buddy!!! There are so many good opportunities to have fun with people here instead of allowing hate to ruin your fandom experience!!!

[zvmz]

A few Cerise Hood HCs <3

okay so obviously- shes tall. like 5'11

ramona is 6 foot, tho. she constantly brags about being taller

once every few months, her whole family rents an air bnb in the middle of nowhere. they all go meet there and spend a few days together where no one can see. they do a full week twice a year

cerise is very ticklish, and her mom is a tickler

nobody in school knows shes ticklish because her friends are very respectful of her personal space, since cerise is uncomfortable with physical contact, and everyone else is too scared to touch her, much less tickle her

MUSCLES!!!! LOTS OF THEM!!!!!!!

she has a very unhealthy obsession with hot chips

and she will put an absolutely insane amount of hot sauce on her food. she used to use only a normal amount of hot sauce on her food, but has been slowly increasing the amount just to mess with raven, who has zero spice tolerance

always asks raven if she wants a taki when she buys a bag. again, just to mess with her

loves film bro movies. yk like christopher nolan, quentin tarentino, martin scorsese type stuff

is starting to get genuinely concerned as to why cedar hasnt picked up on her being half-wolf. i mean they LIVE TOGETHER

the truth is every time cerise slips up and does something um wolf-like, cedars like hmm interesting i guess thats just a human thing i didnt know about and forgets about it

sparrow considered cerise his cool cousin. cerise considers him her annoying cousin

used to sneak liquor with sparrow at family reunions (hood side only obviously)

does finger guns way too much

she has on multiple occasions used her cloak to pretend shes batman while singing "something in the way" in a raspy voice

knows so much gossip bc shes so quiet and in the shadows that people forget shes there and talk right in front of her

has a habit of biting her nails

went through a fnaf phase when she was 10-11

has had the same pair of ratty, falling apart converse for years now and refuses to buy new ones

running with carmine through the forest is like therapy to her. any time shes stressed she'll go for a run to take her mind off things

sometimes she'll decide to take a quick nap with carmine, but she has a habit of just falling asleep for hours in the forest

sometimes she would accidentally sleep out way past curfew and have to sneak in to her dorm

cedar taught her how to paint (i think theres actually a frame in the series showing cerise painting a wolf)

cerise doesnt paint often, but occasionally when cedar is painting, she'll come sit next to her and do her own thing

cerises dad loves rock music. he was definitely a "what band is this?" dad. music is one of the things they bond over the most

he gave her a diskman for her last birthday and has bought her a cd every time they've visited each other since then

she talks and moves around alot in her sleep

its scared the crap out of cedar on several occasions

will bite you if you steal her food

has bit ramona for stealing her food

has been bit by ramona for stealing her food

is always uncomfortable around the rich royals, but has always felt somewhat at ease around ashlynn for some reason, she has no idea why

cupid knows cerises secret, of course she knows how to spot a werewolf

she has very fast reflexes

when the students had their year book pictures taken, the photographer refused to take cerises picture unless she took her hood off. cerise argued with him for a while before she finally just walked out

she tried explaining the situation to headmaster grimm but he just told her that if she wants to be in the yearbook, she has to follow the photographers rules

the truth is grimm was getting suspicious about the hood and wanted to see what was up. he paid the photographer to try to get her to take the hood off

anyways now hes even more suspicious

eventually, once a good amount of students join the rebellion, cerise reveals her secret

once she finally looses the hood, she decides to get a haircut. she gets a wolf cut, of course

a few months after her secret is revealed, its as if her personality did a complete 180. she becomes much more confident. louder. happier.

[ardent-heretic]

Holy Crap

Leaked info about amusement park merger

11 Cedar Fair parks

15 six flags parks

Im not

Counting water parks

The all Access pass will be about $800 for a family of four to hit them all.

My kids are freaking out in excitement thinking we will buy it.

$800 just for parks and parking.

No hotel

No food

If I pull the trigger on this, next year will be the insane year of the Roller Coaster. And I will be the coolest dad on the planet in my kids eyes.

The question is

Do I burn this kind of cash on something that gets less and less enjoyable as my old ass falls apart?

[sergeantflick]

⭐️More (domestic) Wolfstar Headcanons⭐️

- Sirius learns to knit because he wants to give Remus self-made socks (at the Potters, Effi shows him how)

- Remus likes to put make-up on Sirius ("Stop making faces, Padfoot. I'll mess up your liner!")

- Sirius loves spicy food but Remus can't stand it.

- Remus gives Sirius the best foot massages while watching telly. (Sirius yells at the TV when watching stupid characters doing stupid things)

- Remus biggest joy is their built-in book case. Very soon it's almost bursting and there are little stacks of books everywhere around the flat (on the kitchen table, next to Remus' nightstand, on the stove when it's off... Of course, there is also a stack next to Sirius' bike in the garage, so Remus can keep him company and read).

- Sirius loves Horror Movies. Remus hates every minute and can't sleep for days.

- Remus loves clean scents when it comes to shower gel and shampoo. Sirius will go down the whole patchouli/cedar/cinnamon road and reeks like a Catholic Church on Easter.

- both are crap at ironing their clothes. It's either rumpled or burnt, no in between .

- Remus quit drinking eventually but keeps smoking.

- Remus has more nightmares than Sirius. He keeps holding onto Sirius tightly, shaking and whimpering. If Sirius doesn't manage to wake him up then, he'll lash out. (His most frequent Nightmare involves him killing Sirius while he's a werewolf).

- When Sirius has a cold, he's dead to the world. He'll bundle up in blankets, stuffy nose. He needs lots of attention and Remus is happy to give it to him.

- Remus won't notice he's sick until he passes out. Although usually being ravenous, he won't get anything down when he's sick. (It drives Sirius mad)