#he loves his brothers so so much he just want them to be safe

[cutielando]

mrs. leclerc | c.l.

synopsis: in which you finally get married to the love of your life

a/n: based on this request!

warnings!!: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex (be safe!!), pet names, soft sex, body worshipping, just some fluffy newlywed sex

my masterlist

The soft classical music echoed through the grand wedding hall as the doors opened, the whole room turning around to see you standing there, bouquet in hand, waiting to finally walk down the aisle towards the love of your life.

Your family were all standing in the front row, tissues already dabbing at the tears falling down their cheeks.

On the opposite side, Charles' mother stood alongside his older brother, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

Everyone had been waiting for this day ever since you and Charles got together. They all knew you would end up getting married, they could tell that you were made for each other.

The day when you announced your engagement, both of your families cheered and jumped up and down in excitement, happy that both of their children had found love with each other.

And now, here you were, 4 years after the first night he had kissed you and asked you to be his girlfriend, walking down the aisle to finally seal your future together.

You turned your head to look at your father, who was already looking at you with a fond smile on his face.

"Are you ready?" he whispered, his eyes sparkling as he looked at his little girl, all grown up and ready to get married to the love of her life.

You smiled and took a deep breath before you nodded, turning around to face the hall once again.

The two of you slowly started to walk towards the aisle, your eyes finding Charles' and your gaze never faltering. You could see, even from far away, that he was struggling not to cry, seeing you in your wedding dress and knowing that you were going to be his wife in less than half an hour making him more emotional than he thought it would.

The guests gazed in awe at you as you walked past them, your wedding gown flowing effortlessly after you.

When you finally reached Charles and your father gave you away to him, you were barely holding your tears in.

"Hey" Charles whispered as you now stood in front of him, smiling through the tears.

"Hey" you whispered back, turning around slightly to pass your bouquet to your maid of honor, who happened to be your sister-in-law, Charlotte.

Turning back to him, you got lost in his eyes, the whole world around you ceasing to exist.

Neither of you registered what the priest was saying, too lost in each other. So many unspoken words were being exchanged between the two of you, vows that this moment was forever.

"And now, you may kiss the bride"

Those were the words that finally snapped you out of your daydream and brought you back to reality.

Charles gave you a wide smile before he closed the gap between the two of you and pressed his lips against yours, holding your face in one hand and keeping a tight hold on your waist with the other.

The entire church hall cheered and clapped as they rose to their feet, yours and Charles' mothers visibly dabbing their eyes with tissues every now and then.

Every single guest was on their feet, whistling as Charles didn't seem to want to let you go.

"Charles" you said as you giggled against his lips, your cheeks flushed as you knew everyone was staring at the two of you.

Charles, your now husband, smiled and gave you one last peck before he finally pulled away, his eyes twinkling as he looked at you.

Turning back towards the hall, Charles took your hand in his and raised both of them above your heads, smiling widely as your guests cheered even louder and threw flowers up in the air.

You giggled as you looked at Charles before you started walking down the steps and towards the double-oak doors you just stepped through mere minutes ago.

But now, you were walking out a married woman.

♡♡♡♡♡

The wedding reception was everything you had dreamed it would be and so much more.

The venue was decorated exactly as you and Charles had envisioned it, with adorning flower arrangements, twinkling lights hanging from the ceiling, elegant chandeliers adorned with flower vines.

Everything seemed taken out of a fairytale book.

The hours faded away as everyone gathered at the venue. The band was playing soft music in the background, everyone dancing quietly with their partners on the dance floor.

You and Charles were in the middle of the dance floor, swaying slowly to the music, your foreheads resting against each other.

"Can you believe we're married?" you whispered, opening your eyes to gaze up at him.

He smiled at you, his arms tightening around your waist to bring you even closer to him.

"I can't thank my lucky stars enough than I can now officially call you my wife" he said, leaning his head down to trail small kisses up and down the exposed skin of your neck.

You giggled, his his breath tickling your skin.

“Charles, there’s people all around us. Please do try and have some patience until we get to our suite” you whisper in his ear, an undertone of sensuality laced in your voice.

Charles groaned silently in your ear, his hands tightening his hold around your waist.

“Can’t we just go now?” he whispered again, leaving open mouthed kisses along the side of your neck.

You shook your head, giggling as you held the back of his neck.

“Charles, we’re only getting married once. Let me enjoy our wedding before we get to enjoy our wedding night later” you said, accentuating the word later.

Charles pouted for a second, but then nodded and smiled at you.

He knew how much you had been looking forward to getting married, how stressed you had been while you were planning everything with his mother and your sister-in-law for the months leading up to the wedding.

He owed you the wedding of your dreams, he owed it to you to give you the time of your life on this special day for your life together.

And so, as the night wore on, everything was a blur. People were dancing, everyone was mingling with each other, drinks were shared and the famous cake came at midnight.

Everything was perfect.

And when it finally ended and it was time for you and Charles to retreat back to your apartment, that’s when the real fun would begin.

♡♡♡♡♡

"You're so beautiful, and all mine" Charles whispered into the shell of your ear, his sweaty body pressed deliciously against yours.

The two of you had barely made it to your suite once the wedding party had ended, Charles' hands desperately toying with the lace at the back of your wedding gown.

And now, he had you sprawled on the hotel room queen sized bed, your wedding down carefully placed on a chair, his suit thrown somewhere on the ground, and his only focus was you.

“Charles” you moaned, scratching at this back with your nails.

He felt so good, reaching spots inside of you that had you seeing stars and losing yourself in the feeling of him.

Charles was driving his length in and out of you, making sure that you felt every single inch that he had to offer you.

“My wife, my beautiful wife, I’m so lucky to have you all to myself like this” he whispered, slowing down his thrusts to lean down and take one of your nipples in his mouth.

His tongue was swirling your nipple around in his mouth, all the while his hips were thrusting in and out of you with a soft urgency.

Your nails were digging into the skin of his back, soft whimpers leaving your mouth every so often.

The feeling of him was overwhelming, the passion with which he was making love to you making your head go dizzy.

His cock was reaching depths inside of you like never before, the stretch of your walls burning deliciously to accommodate his thick length.

“Charles” you whined out when his cock hit a particularly sensitive part inside of you.

He responded by giving you yet another deep stroke, and another, and another until all you could get out were whines and moans, your hands still clawing at his back.

“Are you close, mon cœur?” Charles whispered in your ear, his lips and his hot breath ghosting against your hot skin.

You bit your lip and nodded, not trusting your voice in the moment.

Charles smirked, groaning as he felt your walls pulsating around his length. He kept peppering open-mouthed kisses along the skin of your exposed neck, his hips giving you deep thrusts.

His hand gravitates towards your heated core, his thumb finding your overstimulated bundle of nerves.

Your back arched as his thumb made contact with your clit, your eyes rolling in the back of your skull. You were so close, you could feel every single nerve in your body tingling and burning as the pit in your stomach drew closer and closer.

“I’m so close” you panted out, your mouth agape.

Charles growled and sped up his thrusts, rubbing even harder and quicker on your clit, chasing his own high as he felt your walls start to pulsate against him.

You moaned out loudly, your mind going fuzzy as you suddenly came around his cock, your body arching and your legs wrapping themselves tightly around Charles’ waist.

Your fingers drew blood against his back, your nails digging into his skin as your body shook with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm.

“Oh, fuck” Charles groaned out as he struggled to thrust between your tight walls, giving you a couple more thrusts before he buried himself to the hilt, spurting rope after rope of cum inside of your tight walls.

The both of you panted in unison, Charles tensing every now and then as you milked him dry of his cum, the warmth inside of your womb delicious.

“That was…” you started, resting your head against the pillow.

Charles chuckled, leaning down to kiss you on the forehead, cradling the side of your face in one of his hands.

"Amazing? Incredible? Unearthly?" he said, his eyes twinkling as he still held himself up over your body, his length still sheathed inside of your gummy walls.

You giggled, biting your lip as you nodded.

"Our first time as husband and wife" you said, your voice dreamy as you stared at the man that you can now call your husband.

Charles smiled, taking in your features illuminated by the moonlight.

"That's right" he whispered, leaning down to seal your new chapter together with a kiss.

Your new life as husband and wife.

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[studiogrimm810]

Dreams Come True

pairings: (pining) sam winchester x gn!reader, dean is kinda there

summary: the brothers request your help with hunting a djinn and after being under its manipulation, you realize you can't ignore your feelings for sam forever

warnings: angst, graphic depictions of crime scene images, open but happy ending, unspoken feelings

word count: 5,138

A/N: i don't know how to write shorter stories. pls send help, thx

———————

As you pulled into the parking lot of some dingy diner you scanned the area in search for a particularly sparkling Impala that stood out like a sore thumb. Upon the confirmation of the vehicle, you knew Sam and Dean were waiting for you inside. It had been a few months since you'd last seen the brothers and it caused a low churning in your stomach, a sickening curl to your intestines that made you nauseous. You love the Winchesters, you truly do, and you would drop everything if they needed a hand like now, but your problem was in fact that you loved one specific Winchester a touch too much. It was exhausting.

Ever since you could drive, you have been on your own. Your parents weren’t much help to your development, and honestly the only real reason you’re as functioning as you pretend to be is because of your Uncle Rufus who stepped up in raising you. He kept an eye on you when his brother failed but you had always had a sharp sense of independence. So, the second your uncle's friend, Bobby, fixed you up a car to claim as your own, you were gone.

And you pretended it didn’t hurt when Rufus didn’t put up a fight.

The forced and minimal choices of your life lead you to be fiercely independent and taught you not to rely on anyone for a thing. You had your own car, your own way of living, and your own set of personal, strict, rules that you follow to a T.

Rules that come so close to being bent in the presence of one, Sam Winchester.

You force yourself out of your car and through the parking lot to the lightly rusted doors smudged with greasy finger-prints. That’s it, next time you get to choose where you and the boys meet up. Surely the food here is good, and the waitress who is taking Sam and Deans drink order looks kind enough, but being on the road most of your life leads you to have a distaste of cheap and greasy spots where their healthiest item on the menu is probably the tomatoes that top their hangover burgers.

Sam and Dean have sat on the same side of the booth and they both smile warmly as they spot you enter the diner. The stale but warm air laced with french fries and left over maple syrup from breakfast washes over you and your mouth waters at the thought of a sweet dessert topping that’s become socially acceptable first thing in the morning.

Eh, maybe this diner isn’t so bad.

Making your way to their delicately selected booth, your stomach twists in a tight knot again at the sight of Sam. A beautiful splitting smile that cracks his face to allow little beams of whatever the fuck makes him so stunningly happy at this moment is partnered with a trademark dimple threatening to suck you in and never loosen up. You smile back at both of them.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dean beams as he and Sam stand in unison to greet you. Dean hugs you first, a firm grip that’s a little too tight because he knows you can handle it and he doesn’t really want to help himself. “Missed ya,” he pulls away to ruffle your hair and you try to glare at him while swatting away his hand but you can’t wipe off the smile these two have infected you with.

Sam is next, wrapping his strong arms around you. “Been too long,” he utters out with a slight groan that often accompanies a hug like this, but maybe it’s also because you can tell he had more to say. His arms are big and encompassing, wrapping around you like a cloak that shields away just enough of the outside hustle and bustle to let it just be you two in this moment. It’s so protected and safe in this moment that you can’t help but reply with an equally weighted echo of, “too long.”

After warm hugs that seem to stop time, the boys sit back in their spots and you take the roomy booth opposite of them. Dramatically stretching out your arms, you shoot them a sly but innocent smile. “Good choice in table, boys. ‘S comfy,” you yawn involuntarily.

“Glad you’re livin’ it up, your highness,” Dean teases, tapping the table idly as the waitress returns. You control the attitude threatening to manipulate your face as Dean gives the poor woman googly eyes masked with a quite dashing smirk.

After a harmony of simple orders, the waitress smiles out of obligation for a tip and heads to her next table.

“How’ve you been?” Asks Sam, and damn him. He just has to keep watching you with eyes that are warmer than the coffee Dean insisted on having this late. You settle in your seat, leaning back and running your nails along the beveled edge of the table.

“Good, same old, same old,” you shrug. It really has been quite boring with you recently. You worked a case a few states over, then picked up a few odd jobs to rake up some money again to get you through another case.

“How’s the Toyota?” Dean looks out into the lot for your white sedan parked across the lot. It had been an inside bit between the two of you, he liked to tease you for sticking to such a confident opinion that your little ‘match-box car’- as he coined it- was in fact a more comfortable and reliable ride than his baby. You really didn’t have such a strong opinion, but for the way it ruffles his feathers, you’d die on this hill.

“As good as ever, and grandpa?” You tick your head to the 40 year old car in the lot. Dean clutches his chest with an offended inhale and twisted look of hurt at the Impalas nickname, gifted by you.

“Immoral,” Dean’s face is straight with a flash of cocky know-it-all holding his chin high.

One day you’ll admit that the common denominator between the two cars would most definitely be the servicer of Singer Auto Parts. The man performed miracles on any old hunk of metal you took him.

“Okay, okay, put the measuring tape away,” Sam chuckled, enjoying the bickering between you two. Dean bit back a ‘they started it’ and just took a far too big gulp of his coffee to shut himself up.

“How ‘bout you two? What made you call me out here tonight?” You ask, looking out the window that overlooks probably 80% of the town that is really only a grocery store, a main street with a handful of vendors, and a couple other buildings that you didn’t take the time to specifically identify at the moment. Sam’s warm smile that tore all eyes from the moon cast high in the sky melts down to his polite not-so-fantastic-news smile.

“We’re tracking a Djinn,” Sam explains, pulling out a few books, topped with John's journal, from his computer bag. He sets out the books and snatches one specifically to flip through and turn for you to look at. You scanned the page: silver, lambs blood, poison, dreams? You had vaguely heard about Djinn before but you never really took them seriously. It was one of those creatures like fairies that just seemed so out of your league that you never put too much time or effort into researching it.

“Thinking it’s going along I-81, collecting victims where it can and bleeding ‘em dry,” Dean explains, his own expression turned serious as well. He tracks his finger along certain lines in the text that highlight an important note: ‘Djinn use a poison through physical touch to incapacitate their victims and keep them in a comatose state as they drain their blood over any given period of time. Djinn often give their victims a false reality that some describe as “too good to be true” to keep their bodies calm, stable, and comfortable in such a neglected state of being.’

“They feed on blood? Like vampires?” You ask, cringing slightly. Although you envision yourself to be a strong, smart, quick hunter, blood is your downfall. You make a point to avoid vamps by yourself for this very reason and the boys know this, so they must really need help if they’re asking for your assistance in a case like this.

“Kinda, yeah. Same diet, different harvesting,” Dean shrugs, making the connection for you that makes you want to gag. You force down a few sips of water to settle the tickle in the back of your throat before continuing.

“So how are you tracking this thing? Like how do you know someone has been its victim?” You ask, wondering what the physical proof left behind on a person was inflicted by such a creature was. Sam shuffles through the stack of literature, pulling out a dull, manilla folder and setting it in front of you.

“It’s sloppy, doesn’t clean up after itself at all,” Sam’s hand rests on the top of the folder, holding it closed so that you don’t open it too fast. “It leaves its victims strung up,” Sam explains, removing his hand but still watching you with a silent warning at the contents behind this thin veil. You open the folder and immediately cringe, your head turning to look away but your glued eyes prevent you from turning too far. The first image is a young woman, probably couldn’t even legally drink, with her wrists tied above her head. She’s dirty, bruised, decayed. An IV still connected her neck to a metal frame next to her that would supposedly host plastic blood bags. “Some Djinn passively feed, others drain to save for later.” You swallow thickly as you realize the IV was to rid her of her own blood.

The thought is sickening.

The image is beyond words.

But you persist. Your now unsteady fingers reach to flip the image, finding a police report behind it. The woman was 19- just a girl. Your chest aches, this really is the hardest part of the job- the loss. Her name was Amani and she was going to college for journalism. She was reported missing when she didn’t show up for her editorial meeting on campus. Her boyfriend reported it. Her parents followed up. There was an image attached, from her and her boyfriend on Valentines Day. She looked so happy and so full of life.

You close your eyes to get a hold of yourself. You swallow down your emotions, opening your eyes again to flip the pages again.

The next picture was of another woman, displayed in a similar manner. Her blonde hair stained with rotted blood and you almost mistook her for a brunette. Smeared makeup lined her vacant eyes and a beautiful necklace rested along her clavicle. Turning the page, you learn this woman's name was Eliza, a 39 year old mother of four. A portrait framed a lovely family. She wore the same necklace and you assume it was a gift from her husband who stood tall and proud next to her.

You closed the folder, unable to take in any more. You nodded lightly, looking between the boys. “I’ll help, just tell me what I need to know,” you state. The hardest thing about this job was also your biggest motivator. Preventing this awful fate from befalling another innocent family.

You felt that it was too late for your own chance at love, life, happiness, but that it was now your responsibility to make sure that was an option for as many people as you could save. You felt it was your one true purpose.

This was something that Sam admired about you, your relentless need to help others. To use your knowledge for the betterment of others. Yet, it was still something he wished you were more selfish with. He could tell the effects that the stories and images of these poor victims had on you but you ignored your own limits and boundaries to fight for those who still stand a chance. It was a horrible hero’s curse, really.

Sam’s smile reassures you, even if it’s the sweet, pitying one that he offers those in distress, because something in the glint that shines in his eyes tells you a truth you want to ignore.

“We can kill it with a silver dagger dipped in lamb's blood. We just need the blood,” Dean pulls out his phone to check his messages. “Which is ready for us, courtesy of Frankie,” Dean tips up his phone as if to cheer. Frankie was another hunter friend in rotation, he wasn’t really someone you would team up with, but you’d accept his tools and supplies anytime.

Sam packs up his stack of books, stuffing them in his bag. “Dean has to drive out about an hour to meet Frankie, you and I can stick back and I’ll catch you up on the lore.” Sam offers, zipping his bag up and shoving it aside.

———

The rain outside was persistent, heavy, and unforgiving. You stood at the motel window, glaring out to your car getting a half-assed wash that it so desperately needs. After packing in as much Djinn knowledge as you could get, you and Sam decided to call it quits for the night and wait on Dean.

“So what’s the plan? Do you know how to find where this thing is going to be next?” You asked, turning over your shoulder to spot Sam who was cleaning up his gun, shiney metal parts lined neatly on a cloth next to him.

“We have a hunch, another woman disappeared from her workplace last night. Amani, the college student, was found in an abandoned greenhouse that no one used anymore on campus. The mother, Eliza, was found in some old stock room at the animal shelter she volunteered at. The woman who disappeared last night, Carmen, worked at a museum as a tour guide. There’s a ruined exhibits graveyard in the basement, I’m betting she’ll be there,” Sam explains, continuing to clean his gun. His hands flow in precise motions over the weapon, cradling it and caring for it like a delicate piece of glass.

“Are we checking it out tonight when Dean gets back?” You ask, moving to sit on the free couch that will end up being your bed. Sam glanced out the window that you no longer silhouette, checking for headlights, before returning to finish reassembling his gun.

“Yep, that’s the plan,” Sam nods, setting the pristine gun on his bedside table and putting away his kit.

Once he’s finished, he stays sat on the edge of the bed, glancing over at you as you pick at the tears in your jeans. You couldn’t get those images out of your head and you itched to save Carmen before it’s too late.

“How’re you feeling?’ Sam asks with kind words that don’t mean to pry but just to chip what he can. He knows how much time you spend alone on the road. You’re such a sheltered and lonely person but he doesn’t want that for you. Sam can see past the tough exterior and into the shell of just a person who craved to be loved and taken care of. He wanted to be that person for you.

“Antsy. Dean should be back by now, no?” You ask, continuously picking at your jeans but gazing out the window once more. Sam follows your lead, nodding in agreement but returning his main focus back to you.

“He’ll be more careful in the rain,” Sam explained, his soft eyes holding room for the tension he captures behind them. “The others had been missing for at least a week before they passed, we have time,” Sam assures, hoping that you don’t stress yourself out too much over this.

“Talk to Bobby recently?” Sam continues, missing the small talk that you two haven’t really shared yet. He can tell you’re more tense than usual, it’s like you’re distancing yourself. You look up from your knees, the messy pit that makes you sick stirring in you yet again as his eyes match yours.

“Last week, just to check in,” you said, offering a suspiciously less amount of information than usual. Your leg bounces against its prop on the coffee table before you.

“You can talk to me,” Sam urges, keeping his eyes on you as you dart from your knees to the window and then to him. You don’t know what’s with you right now specifically, but the tension of the unspoken feelings bubbling under your ribs is becoming a real bitch.

“Just a stressful few weeks, nothing I can’t handle,” you smile assuringly. He can see right through it, but he decides to let it go for now since the familiar rumble of the Impala growls outside, awaiting its two passengers. Sam lets out a defeated breath, standing and grabbing his coat and gun. You jump to your feet, ready to get this show on the road. You slip on your own coat and check yourself over to make sure you have everything you need.

“What’s a little more stress, huh?” Sam jokes sarcastically, making a mental note to keep an extra close eye on you. You scoff a dry laugh, leading the way to the Impala while Sam locks up the room. The ten feet to the vehicle being enough to soak halfway through to your skin.

“Fuckin’ rain!” You exasperated, sliding into the back seat and letting the comforting heat of the Impala warm you right back up.

“Tell me about it, can’t see a damn thing,” Dean complains, his wipers on full blast and his defroster bellowing a low hum through the car that you had to speak over.

Dean’s years and years of constant driving cause for good reflexed and skilled roadwork as he navigates the slick roads, leading you three to the main event.

After a pop-quiz and mostly dried clothes, Dean pulls the Impala around the museum and to the back entrance that neighbors cellar doors that lead straight down. Once everyone is caught up, loaded with the proper weapon, and ready to get soaked again for a measly few feet of travel, they pile out of the car and to the latched and locked doors. Dean skips the pleasantries of Sam simply picking the lock and just shoots straight through the already rusted metal.

Dean descends first, followed by you, and finished by Sam.

The room is inky black and thickly dank, the moisture almost making it difficult to breathe. Echoing drips of supposed leaks from the rain sing around the trio, making it nearly impossible to locate one specific stream. Dean kicks on his flashlight and you and Sam follow.

“Stay close, stay alert,” Dean instructs, going to look up a nearby hall while Sam checks a few closets and you scan the main area for clues. There are dozens of totes down here full with scrapped art supplies, broken furniture, and piles of betrayed books. Nothing is standing out, though, so you follow behind Dean who has progressed up the hallway. Sam watched both yours and his brother's backs.

A loud clunk echos from the opposite side of the basement but the echo makes it bounce around to the main room you three had landed in. Sam jumps to double check to make sure that behind them was clear and Dean retreats from the room to see what’s going on. You shrug at Dean's raised brow and progress further into the hall, taking the lead.

You turn down a corner to find an even longer hallway with more off-shoots that basically make this place a maze. You sigh heavily, dropping your light a tad and look back at the brothers who have closed the distance between you surprisingly fast.

“There's too much ground,” you whisper to them both. Sam’s face contorts into a ‘no way, don't even think about it’ but Dean's interruption stops Sam from speaking his protests.

“They’re right, Sammy, we’ll cover more ground,” he whispers, trying to reason with his brother, “just stay close, no more than shouting distance,” Dean lays it out like he’s your father, but you listen because you trust his judgement. At the moment at least.

You have a hard time being too far from Sam, though. Seeing the aftermath of the Djinns' torment makes the uneasy swirl in your stomach worsen, but this time it isn’t at the ball of nerves that Sam's presence tweaks, it’s the thought of him being strung up there like a piece of meat. You have to rationalize that Sam is a grown man. You have to take a deep breath and assure yourself that he can handle this. After all, it is him and his brother who invited you to this hunt. You were the novice here.

After scanning over a few rooms, you progress further down the hall, and the further you go, you start to hear it. Soft whimpers, like helpless cries, sirening you to a room at the far end of the hall. You know you should grab one or both of the brothers’ attention, but you can’t help yourself. The images flash again- desiccated husks of once lively people dangling like a crude ornament. This has to be Carmen and you have to help her.

Your heart races as you get closer to the cracked door that pours out the skin-crawling whines. As you turn the corner, there she is. You're halted for a moment, frozen as you take in her state. A poor woman with her hands bound above her head and a dried trail of blood staining her temple. She has a similar IV but she isn’t still like you imagined, it’s almost like she’s experiencing sleep paralysis.

The poison is running out. Sam told you about this, you remember. The poison inflicted by touch only lasts so long and the Djinn needs to come back to dose its victim again. The Djinn will be back soon if it isn’t stalking around already.

You really should’ve grabbed the boys’ attention.

It’s too late for that now, though. You fish out your pocket knife, flicking it open and approaching the zip-ties that cinch Carmen's wrists.

“You’re okay, I’ve gotchyou,” you murmur quietly, hoping to god she can hear you just a little bit. Just enough to know that she’s safe now. You look around the room, keeping an eye out for the Djinn. You support most of Carmens weight into your side, stepping cautiously back out into the hallway. You almost make it past the barrier but a low growl from behind you makes you jump.

The figure behind you is a dark frame, shadowy and devoid of any light under the glowing blue tattoos and beams of eyes. It’s like the creature is pure nothingness despite its veins of sapphire lining its figure. As it steps out into the light, moonlight floods in just enough that you can actually see past the light-polluted skin of what looks to be just man. Well, a man that’s almost eight feet tall and glowing like he just stepped out of the Chernobl blast.

Carmen starts to stir, muttering something incomprehensible, but you ignore it because there is no time anyways. You stumble back, the Djinn looming over you. You manage to set Carmen down gently enough to leave while you lead away the creature that lurks closer and you can tell it’s furious with you. You can see it in his eyes. The cool blue that should be a calming, and if anything- dull, color instead pierced through your chest like an alarming red. You take bigger steps back before flipping a table in your path and darting the opposite way.

The piercing metal followed by an angry growl was definitely enough to get the boys’ attention and startle Carmen to be fully conscious again. The brothers call after you, their words dying in their throats as they round the corner to see Carmen on the ground. Somehow, during your short-lived rescue mission, you managed to settle your coat over her shoulders. Sam instantly recognizes that it’s yours and while Dean quickly crouches to her aide, Sam flashes his light to the mess of a spilled table on the floor. A few paint bottles are still rolling along the cement.

“Dean, get her out of here, I’m going after them,” Sam says without looking Dean's way at all. This time it’s Deans protests that go unspoken.

—---

Freshly ground coffee is Sam's specialty after being gifted a gourmet coffee bean grinder for Christmas. Ever since then, he’s gotten up before you, just like usual, but spent the better half of his morning crafting the perfect blend of coffee that you got to taste test along with blueberry and lemon muffins that Dean and Cas brought last time they visited.

Your guilty pleasures usually starred your mornings, overly sweet breakfast items followed by way too much caffeine from many taste-tests, and even a special morning delight from yours truly.

Your mornings were the absolute highlight of your day and a great way to start the day too.

Comfortable footsteps climb the steps outside of your bedroom door, and soon, Sam’s large figure spills through the frame, filtering in like an early sunrise. Sunshine that is hopeful, trusting, blindly accepting of things to come. His eyes rake over your body that’s half out of the blankets due to overheating from the night and he looks along the sleeplines you have acquired on your thigh, up your hip, and stretching out to your lower back. Exposed, lush skin, calling him in like a lustful sin.

“Good morning, my love,” his voice wakes you up enough to smell the mouth-watering blend of fresh coffee and warm muffins. You prop your head up just enough to smile fondly at him as he sits on the open bedspace by your legs. He sets the muffin wrapped in a paper towel on your bedside table along with your steaming coffee.

“What’s the concoction today?” Your sleep-dampened voice makes Sam smile a bit brighter. His hand rests on your exposed leg, running his palm up your thigh, over your underwear and back down.

“I mixed some of that Brazilian blend with the last of the hazelnut dark roast,” he tilts his head so his face is level with yours, still running his lightly calloused hand up your skin, untainted from the survival of The Life. You hummed in delight from the goosebumps that blessed your silky skin and also in anticipation at the mention of one of your favorite flavors.

You close your eyes to stretch and Sam just watches as your body twists to land on your back, but as you go to sit up, his face falls into a grimace as his hand quickly comes up to pin you down. You’re fully alert now, heart racing.

“S-Sam.?” You test, unsure of why he’s acting this way so suddenly.

“N-No, don’t go, you can’t leave me,” he shakes his head, a heartbreaking expression painting his gorgeous face.

“I’m not going-.”

“You need to wake up!”

Another Sam echoes in your head, and your own face contorts in confusion. Your heart is aching.

“Don’t go, please,” the Sam that pins you down begs.

“Please come back to me…”

He sounds broken, scared, so lonely. You shake your head, shoving Sam off of you. He looks offended, hurt. But this isn't right. No, Carmen, The Djinn. No.

No.

The poison.

The facade.

No.

The poison.

“C’mon, you’re okay. You have to be okay,” roughly calloused hands run over your cheek, a thumb tracing under your eye. You’re dizzy and disoriented, but you already can tell that this is what’s real. This Sam is real. The fogginess in your ears clear up as the pattering of rain fills the noise. When you can pry your eyes open enough, you see Sam crouched in front of you. He breathes out a heavy puff of air, a soft laugh escaping his lips. An expression that is strictly joyous lights up his face like a guiding moonlight in the dead of night. The kind of light that exposes the danger of things, and the price at which they come.

It’s the kind of light that floods everything about your dream downstream, carrying away the silly scenario. The kind of life that people like you and him never get.

“You’re okay,” he repeats, but this time he believes it.

A crack of thunder lights up the sky. A shocking mix of light you don’t quite understand. It’s not a beacon you can fizzle down to some self-justifying reason because it’s just a simple flash of electricity. It’s a crack in the storm above. It’s not some metaphor to make you feel better about your choices. It is a singular bolt that shatters through the night sky, starting you because you didn’t expect it.

Just like you didn’t expect the man in front of you to be the man that he is. He isn’t some ignorantly blissful lazy morning, and he certainly isn’t some moody, grey reflection of light that pulls at your dread. He is simply the split second vein of light that came out of the nowhere storm that is your life. But unlike the crackle of light in the sky that disappears before it’s even heard, he’s not flickering away because he found his conduit that will house his stay.

It’s him.

It’s you.

And you realize that you’ve been a fucking fool.

You push up to hug him tightly, eyes wide and heart still racing.

“Sam.” His name blesses your lips for the first real time. This time you’re accepting it, you’re allowing it.

His arms secure you close and he buries his face in your neck, taking in your scent. You can’t pinpoint the exact moment the boundaries between you two broke, but you knew they were crumbled to dust by the way he held you.

One of his hands wrapped all the way around your back to rest against your ribs on the opposite side and his other cradled the back of your neck.

This wasn’t a hug out of just a close call, this was a hug that made up for lost time. It wasn’t just the rush of saving your life, it was the flood of allowing yourself to feel what you so desperately have been hiding for too goddamn long.

This was a brand new hug with murmurs of brand new names and a brand new set of rules for the both of you.

This was the start of you.

———————

thank you so much for reading!! <3

>pictures are not my own, i have the originals linked here (pinterest) >>check out my other works here

[yanphighting]

Omgomgomg yandere phighting blog!!!

Is it possible for me to request Yandere Dom or Valk headcanons? Or both? If not then Yandere Medkit headcanons if you don't mind?

Sorry if im coming off strong I'm just really excited to see a yandere phighting blog!!

(Is it possible for me to be 🥞 Anon? ^^)

╰┈❥ YANDERE VALK AND DOM

AN: I LOVED DOING THIS REQ,,, Hope you enjoy this! Had a lotta fun writing this!

♡ Valk always takes photos of you whenever you two hang out, cute photos of you two hugging, sharing a coffee together, you wearing the brand-new outfit he had bought you for your spawnday. He never lets you see the photos though for some reason always being so secretive about them, saying he's just keeping them on his phone. Later on, he'll post them to every platform he can get his claws on, captioning the photos about how he was so glad to be with his spouse.

♡ Valk as a draconic like demon definitely has the traits of one. He's can't help that he has the need to grab everything and anything you own and have it all to himself. Your clothes are definitely things he'll take most often, sweaters, shirts and scarves that still smell exactly like you. He keeps everything he had hoarded from you in a drawer in his room, cuddling with the items whenever he thinks it misses you.

♡ Even if Firebrand is gone currently I'd think Valk would still have a lot of status as he is the grandson of the deity. He would find demons from all around the Crossroads to find your favorite thing, limited edition doesn't matter to him he'll find everything you would ever wish for, that'll definitely get you to like him! If you ask questions about how he found whatever you wanted he'd just chuckle saying that he has his ways.

♡ Valk would message you an alarming amount of times. It doesn't matter if you're busy, you will come back to see five or more missed messages with even more coming in about how he misses you, how he wishes you could hang out like right now or just him spamming you with stupid messages. Even if you'd block his number or change yours, he'd find a way to text you again.

♡ Valk absolutely swears to himself that he has to end up with you! You're the perfect demon for him, you two just NEED to be together. He'll vaguely talk about you as ' this cute demon he's been fawning over' everyone in the general vicinity WILL hear about you. Valk thinks and dreams about you every second he can. It's gotten to the point where he's most likely messed up announcements or some sort of choreography due to daydreaming about you.

♡ Dom, similar to his brother, definitely has the draconic hoarding habit however he's more discreet about it. Instead of taking clothing items he's more likely to take smaller trinkets and items from you, hair ties, small plushies that once littered your bed and even a bottle of your favorite perfume! He keeps smaller items with him so it's like he's carrying around a small piece of you whoever he's going.

♡ Instead of gushing about you online like a certain someone he keeps his thoughts to himself. Dom writes about you as he thinks about you, he'll write about how happy the two of you'll be once you start dating or even marry! He'll also just aimlessly jot down the things he noticed about you throughout the week,how you smiled at his joke, how you seemed much more at ease with him! It just makes his wing flutter with excitement as he swoons over you like a teenage girl.

♡ On a similar note he'd write songs about you! Songs about how much he loves you and how every bit of you is so CUTE! He'd wouldn't show you the songs if you saw him writing them out going with the excuse that it was 'unreleased' material that you weren't allowed to see. Maybe one day he'd show you them.

♡ Dom would have a stalking habit, he doesn't entirely mean for it to happen, he just wants to make sure you're safe! You may not see him but he's seeing you whenever you end up going. You start feeling a bit uneasy after a trip to a mall in Crossroads, swearing that you'd seen Dom watching you from the corner of your eye yet when you turn to look ... he's gone. You're not even safe when you're home. Maybe it's just late-night paranoia getting to you, but you swear there's someone at your window watching you sleep.

[radioactiverats]

HII HIIII!! I just wanted to say I love your writing so much 😭😭 especially mentor!starscream x reader!!

i have a question—in future chapters, will we possibly get to see starscream getting jealous? SORRY IF THIS IS A SILLY QUESTION!!

again, love your art!!! ❤️❤️

Hello!!! Thank you so much for stopping by and leaving a message! <33

I think we're inevitably going to get jealous Starscream, I feel like that would be so fun to think about considering how possessive and protective he gets haha... The bond just hits different when they just have each other to rely on, sharing a space goes beyond physical cos this little world of two feels safe, which goes a long way in the Deceptions, so having something challenge that when he's really invested would be tasty >:)

For how jealous and jealous over whom, if I may humbly offer this prev ask for a little bit of "Starscream introduces you to his trine and Skywarp immediately chooses to poke the bear with a stick" in the meantime (tagging system who? 🥲). Skywarp def teases Starscream all the time over his soft spot for you, but as much as you like the others, the trine knows that Starscream was here first. Your bond is different and it's something that's just accepted/they don't intend to touch. So it's funny when he gets all prickly at teasing, but it's no direct threat. I'm wondering tho... Since the timelines are sort of thrown out the window anyway... If young seekers idolised (like football trading cards sorta??) some super powerful or famous seekers... Starscream among them, as Air Commander, but also... Sunstorm? I've sort of caught snippets about him being Starscream's "brother" in a way, near identical save for the... Idk how to put it... But Starscream cringing away from him feels like being confronted with a better, more preferable version of yourself and suddenly becoming hyper aware of the parts in your soul that are rotten. Canonically, he replaced Starscream as well... So seeker!reader's reaction to a visit from Sunstorm would probably provoke some interesting reactions from Starscream >:') That would def feel like a direct challenge to him. He's also such an overthinker but lack of "friends" means he doesn't really have anyone to put things into perspective for him (okay maybe Knockout would say something) and he can't let others know he's spiraling over not being your favourite. Lmao I want to see it happen (files this away to the drafts)

Now I'm also wondering about the opposite... Is it just because I want Starscream to reassure me that we are special to him and he won't ditch us for someone else hahaha no... I shan't say...

Ended up going off on a tangent.. thank you for giving me an opportunity to yammer on about Starscream some more (holding him up and gesticulating wildly)

[tastesousweet]

01 : Who’s the New Guy?

hamzah has a summer gig as the pool boy for one of his friends and y/n can’t help it if she’s just so intrigued by this friend of her brother’s.

01. 02. 03.

crushes came to you quite often.

you remember playground crushes; the boys you liked to stare at from afar as you played in the sand as a child. or the boys who frequented your prestigious ballet studio who were pretty and rambunctious which aided your curiosity. there was presley in high school who you found undeniably cool with his tattoos and effortless guitar playing skills; things ended with your heart torn at the fact that he admitted to enjoying your admiration and desire for him more than you and your entirety. he must’ve thought you were some ditz with the way he spoke to you that night : “i’m sorry, but i’m no liar, i never said i loved you, let alone liked you. in what world would we ever be together, y/n?”

your older sister, mina, has always told you boys are nothing but compliant lap dogs to the other boys around them; she warned you that you’ll never find one that would hold you because just because you asked (or even better if you didn’t have to ask), that he would make sure his buddy is wrapping his arms around a girl before he found it okay to do so. give and take, a fight for validation. a constant look around to ensure they’re accepted among themselves, “they’ll never learn to care if you except the bare minimum from them and it’s only worse that you’re so quick to accept any “love” without them having to at least try, y/n.”

she told you not to get caught up in the drama that came with boys (their breaking hearts and such) — or the other catty girls who were in competition to hold a guy’s attention for longer than a night in bed or date night out.

your older brother (who's also mila's twin) always claimed that your sister was spitting out a mouthful of bullshit whenever she’d start her hate-speech against men. this would typically lead the two to begin their own brawl, leaving you to solemnly look the other way, to find a safe piece of eye-candy that would surely turn your pupils into tiny black hearts.

while you tend to get a little fantastical about your intense desire for devotion and affection, your first, grounded love came in the form of ballet.

at age four you found yourself captivated by a small ballet theater production of sleeping beauty, you still fondly remember your great aunt accompanying you and the way she cried the entire time. you haven’t known a time where you weren’t amazed by the way you could move your body. you remember stretching yourself obsessively and eventually by age six you were watching late night shows with your family while maintaining a full split in front of the tv.

yet now, at nineteen that childhood dream you’ve worked towards your entire life feels like an overwhelming, burnt-out nightmare with clouded vision and harshly barked orders of “higher!” “now tighter!” “follow through!” “be consistent!” from your roster of highly established instructors, all fighting around in your head.

those first two years of school gave you a glimpse of what you’ve always thought you wanted — early mornings, strict diets, long days of structured dancing, endless nights of studying, eye bags covered in concealer, headaches from tight ponytails or buns, icing your knee caps on weekends, losing your mind and your poise demeanor without a doubt by the end of each semester. and above all you missed your parents, so bad.

so, after much pouting (and a few phone calls that consisted of you crying and blubbering about how broken down you’d become), your parents allowed for you to spend your summer break at home with them (rather than your usual confinement to an acclaimed, private ballet institution for the entire break), under the guise that you’d be training with your old high school instructor to ensure you maintain your pristine skill level. you were sure that obligation was easy enough, as you’d already been through the hell of it in the spring.

now the sun beats on your glowy skin as you lie on a cream lounge chair. the bikini you wear is a soft kiss of pink, decorated in tiny black polka dots, that leaves little to imagine. your long legs are crossed at the ankle, bare feet exposed with your toes painted an elegant matching shade of pink. your book is now abandoned at your hip as you gaze, with squinted eyes, at the boy stood across the lawn’s wide stretch of concrete. his focus is on cleaning your family pool — rarely stopping unless he finds it completely necessary to wipe away a growing layer of sweat from his forehead.

he’s hasn’t given you any attention, barely a glance over, nothing close to an introduction. yet he’s somehow become your new person of interest with such little effort or time. you’ve covered yourself in sunscreen (in a slow fashion just in case he wanted a teasing show mid-shift), flipped onto your stomach to show off the curve of your ass as you read a few chapters of a memoir (trying to focus on the words written in times new roman to avoid getting distracted by the tall man), you’ve gone inside to grab a pair of sunglasses (to have a reason to walk by him and gain a shield that allows you to stare without your eyes on display), after ten minutes you decided sunglasses made the world far too dark and you would rather he know you’re staring at him than stare and get a poor view.

there was something about his warm, beautifully tanned skin and toned arms working against his white wife-beater that hugged him well. and his face was so inviting — you liked it when he had a question about a certain pipe and went to ask your dad about it, as he listened he cracked a smile and gave a nod of his head in understanding. it’s unbearable that you don’t know his name, but you can imagine it’s something cute that you’d like the sound of when hearing your voice deliver it.

after a much needed bathroom break, you make your way back outside with a deep red, raspberry popsicle in your hand. you lick over the cold dessert a few times as you move closer to where the boy sits, obviously exhausted, with his head tilted down towards his knees.

“hi,” you speak, standing in front of him.

he seems to be caught off guard by your presence, flinching slightly before looking up (attempting to refrain from scanning over your exposed body), “uh, hey?”

“are you finished?” you question with a slight head tilt.

“oh, not really, i just have t’pressure check the jets in the hot tub. that’s my bad, ill get back to it.” he goes to stand but you place your hand gently on his shoulder so that he stays.

you both look at your hand’s placement then into each other’s eyes. you smile awkwardly, taking your hand off of him and begin pretending to dust something off of his shoulder, “… just some sorta feather or …” you clear your throat and retract your hand again, “sorry, um, i just thought i’d introduce myself. because- well, i live here and i guess i … just wanted to know your name,” you speak softly and bring the popsicle to your mouth to suckle a little more.

your eyes look at him with a sense and emotion he’s not sure anyone has in his entire life. you’re like a viper or siren, some sort of creature that’s hypnotizing him with beauty and desire. as he speaks you continue lapping the popsicle in your mouth, he clears his throat, “hamzah.”

“hamzah? i like it.” you love it.

“yeah?” he looks down at the popsicle that’s now slick from your mouth’s warmth, then he’s looking back in your eyes, “thanks.”

“how’d my parent’s find such a cutie to come pour chlorine in the pool?” you flirt.

“i mean i do more than pour chlorine in a pool, y’know i check the piping, change the tank …” your stare is so captivating it’s hard for him to not feel like blushing, “i’ll, uh, tell you all about it later. t’answer your question, i’m friends with leo and needed a summer gig before goin’ back to school.”

you can’t believe it’s true — your brother doesn’t have nice friends. your brother even doesn’t have friends with real jobs let alone any that plan to complete college. you laugh softly, “no, you’re not? i know all of my brother’s friends.”

hamzah shrugs his shoulders, “i mean, i guess we weren’t the closest in high school,” he pinches his eyes slightly, “you are the younger sister, right? the one who’s got all that dance business goin’ on?”

you shake your head in slight embarrassment at your description, “yes, that’s me with the “dance business”” you smile, “i’m y/n.”

“cool. s’nice to meet you,” he reaches his hand out and you place yours in his hold as you two shake hands.

── .✦

you were pouring a glass of water when the idea came to you; you knew hamzah was bound to be leaving soon but you craved to hear more from him. all it took was a slight (but very intentional) tumble of the words, “i wanna invite that new pool boy to stay dinner,” for your father to immediately agree.

he continues to stir at the sizzling vegetables in his pan, “oh! that’s a wonderful idea, sweetheart, open that for for me?” he nods towards the sliding glass door.

you try not to display your excitement too blatantly, but can’t help that your socked feet glide over to the door.

your father’s immediately calling out, “hey hamzah! c’mere a minute would’ya?”

hamzah immediately bolts over, he’s out of breath and surprised to see you leaning against the open door, “hey,” he directs to you but it’s sounds more like a gasp for air than a word.

“no running by the pool,” you whisper back, watching as his face of confusion turns into another smile.

“fair,” hamzah shrugs.

“hamzah, we were hopin’ you’d stay for dinner tonight?”you father speaks loudly, and the way he says it makes it sound like more of a statement than a question.

his face lights up, “sur-”

“say yes,” you warn through your teeth, knowing your father’s irritation with any use of a word as dismissive as “sure”.

“yes, um, yes that sounds great. thank you, sir.” he can see you giggling beside him, and when your father turns away he playfully nudges your side with his elbow.

── .✦

dinner was full of undying conversation and many overlaps in dialogue. never a dull moment.

“y/n, pass the mashed potatoes,” your brother calls out.

you whine, “leo, i just said my entire body hurts from training, i’ve passed it back and forth like four times already.”

“oh my god, and somehow your complaining just ruined my appetite, anyway. i can always count on you, y/n.” he laughs under his breath.

“that’s enough, now.” your mother speaks up, “but y/n, i’m getting worried, do you think you need some extra sessions dedicated to stretching?”

“i’m fi-”

“shoot, hamzah could give you some tips on stretchin’.” your brother jokes, “weren’t you in ballet?”

hamzah is completely flushed, “like, barely, my parents forced me when i was, like, seven-”

he’s cut off as soon as you register what this could mean for you, “wait, you’d really help me?” you ask with a sense of genuine curiosity, and a big, encouraging smile of course.

“hamzah i never knew you were so, multitalented.” your mother comments.

leo laughs, “he’s n-”

hamzah clears his throat and wipes his mouth with a small napkin, “well, yeah, i’ll help out wherever i can.”

“really?!” you’re relieved that he actually agreed.

“oh good fucking luck,” your brother sighs under his breath and claps a hand against hamzah’s shoulder.

── .✦

“don’t forget you need to meet me at the studio at 6 to beat the rush, wear something flexible, and remember to bring your smart brain and lots of patience — i can be kinda bitchy that early in the morning!”

hamzah sighs, returning to standing a few inches above you now that he’s done tying his shoes in your foyer, “as opposed to bringing my dumb brain and all of my impatience —” he smiles at you and but your face is plain and straight, “right. yeah, i got it all. you also wrote it down for me on my hand, remember?” he shows his hand with purple, glittery ink covering the palm.

your arms are crossed as you explain, “yes but that’s just unreliable- it’ll be gone by morning…” you shrug and watch as he pulls a sweatshirt in over his head, “and i need to tell you these things in case you forget about me and don’t set an alarm.”

he laughs as adjusts the sleeves of the mossy green sweatshirt, “i won’t.”

“cool.”

“so i’m wakin’ up at 10 and goin’ for breakfast then meeting up with you?” he jokes and immediately catches your hand in his own before you get the chance to push his shoulder. he laughs as he brings you close, keeping your hand in his as he offers a warm side hug. “i’ll be at the studio before 6, how about that?”

you nod as you pull away, “you better.”

“uh huh,” he opens your front door and finally calls out “good night!” to your family, who all echo the sentiment back to him. before he fully walks out he turns to you, with your hold on the tall wooden door, “bye, i’ll see you in, like, nine hours or somethin’.”

“bye, thank you,” you smile and watch him rush over to his car parked on the street, “don’t forget, hamzah!” you holler and watch his figure throw a thumbs up into the air before he climbs into his slightly janky car.

── .✦

you both were a couple of yawning, baby fawns with the amount of slow blinks and constant, accidental bumps into each other as you walked into the quiet studio and found your way into a private practice room.

the colors of the walls and equipment were various muted browns and light grays. you set your duffle bag on the ground and stretched your arms above you, “so, what exactly are we doing?”

hamzah rubs at his eyes, he’s clad in basic grey sweatpants and another white wife-beater, his hair is its usual curly with slight frizz from sleep, “umm, you’re the professional here?”

“hamzahhhh, you said you would help!” you drag while adjusting yourself onto the floor, stretching out your legs on either side of you.

“yeah! but i wasn’t expectin’ to have any stretches made! im not a yoga instructor, i was just gonna be your little assistant.” he moves to the ground with you.

“m’kay, here,” you flutter your fingers to encourage him to mimic your position and hold onto your forearms, “and now flatten your back and lean forward,” you both complete the action then return to sitting up.

“what do they always say? come on, deep breaths, in!” you both hold “and out,” you both release.

you smile at him,“you’re a natural, look at you!” you compliment.

the two of you complete your entire yoga flow that you’d do almost every day at university, before progressing into the most random yoga poses you’d heard of under the guise of “let’s just try it!”

there were a few fails due to lack of balance or the need to burst into laughter but generally you two worked well together.

just before you two left you asked hamzah to help you stretch deeper, as you lie flat on a mat, lifting your leg up boldly. “i just need you to kneel down and push my leg all the way into my chest for me …” you bite at your bottom lip to suppress a smile.

hamzah finishes his sip of water, watching you lie there in that tight yoga piece, dangling a foot in the air and inviting him to be so close to you. “yeah? ‘kay, guide me.” he sets the bottle down and kneels in front of you as you asked.

“mhm, yeah here i’ll just,” you move your leg onto his shoulder and bring his hand to your lower thigh, just above your knee, “right … there.” you let your hand linger on his before looking back at him. he’s already focused on your face and your next command, “just lean forward and bring my leg with you,” you accidentally let out the tiniest, whiniest little groan.

“m’sorry,” he whispers with wide eyes.

“no, don’t. it’s good, i needed this,” you remind.

“yeah, just breathe, you’re doin’ good.” he coaches while pushing your leg further.

── .✦

“mmm! if the girls in my class knew i was eating this i’d be skinned and shunned from the program!” you shake your head, raspberry jelly dribbling from the side of your lips. you’re more than grateful hamzah suggested you both stop by a small shop, only a block away, for some post-yoga sweetness.

hamzah continues to walk back towards the studio with you next to him, crinkling wax paper wrapping into his pocket, “that’s gnarly as fuck, you couldn’t even have like a single plain donut? just one?”

“no, and half of ‘em have heart palpitations at the thought of honey nut cheerios. i think donuts would end them, unfortunately.” you wipe your face.

“well, damn maybe ballet-in’ kinda sucks?”

“maybe.” you sigh and bring the large jelly donut up to his mouth as he bites, “what’d you think it was like?”

he shrugs, chews a little, then answers, “i dunno- fun?”

you let out a soft laugh and take another bite. you’re just a little annoyed that hamzah makes it far too easy to crush on him — how dare he be so pretty and kind and actually interested…?

── .✦

a/n: hiii first part of my short series for hamzah! yaaayyy!! hope u all liked this, i did not proof read too in depth so im kinda just prayin it makes sense. love ya! <3

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Unfortunately, I am still having Sharpwolf brainrot for post-Made to Bite

Telemachus is still very nervous about giving oral sex for a good long while, Antinous doesn't push, but he does make a point of blowing him and eating him out more often as a reward for good behavior to help him get more comfortable.

Athena, unbeknownst to the boys, does still hang out with her brother and his lover on Olympus, and she mentions that Telemachus found a warrior of his own and how he himself has improved as a fighter. Aphrodite gets curious, and when she sees the tangled thorns that still managed to bloom roses of real adoration and affection, she's impressed. She also thinks Antinous, at this point in the timeline, is fucking hilarious because he is CONSTANTLY trying to introduce things to his lover to heighten both of their enjoyment. She may or may not bless his search for ye old sex toys just because it's so funny.

Antinous, for a long time, will not be in the same room as Penelope. It doesn't matter if Telemachus trusts him now and he doesn't care what Odysseus would do to him if he stepped out of line. Being around her reminds him of the cruelty that he subjected Telemachus to and fills him with such a sharp guilt that he tries to avoid it whenever possible.

Telemachus and Antinous continue to spar for the rest of their lives, and after a few years of Odysseus' and Athena's teaching, Telemachus is more than able to hold his own and best him or fight him to a standstill when he wants to. A lot of the time tho, he does throw at the end of a fight because he still likes it when Antinous uses the sparring to "force" him to try something new in bed. His lover likes to have an excuse to let himself try something that he would deem too embarrassing to stomach otherwise.

Odysseus and Athena get into a vicious fight at some point (probably 2-3 years after he gets home) when Telemachus is going to be leaving for a diplomatic mission that will take him away from Ithaca for over a year. Odysseus wants to hold onto his family as tight as he can because he's so scared of losing them again and he is hurt that Athena was able to slip into Telemachus' life and become his confidant and mentor when he has had to build his relationship with his son so belatedly in addition to the fact he thinks she just went after Telemachus because he's such a kind soul. He won't go against anything she says because he has so much faith in her. She knows Odysseus is lashing out and is trying to be kinder, but she is still a prideful creature and fires back that if HE had listened to her the one time it mattered most after years of guiding HIM, then he would have been home in time to see his son pick up a spear for the first time. They are both furious and hurt, and poor Telemachus doesn't know jack shit about this happening because they both intentionally timed this for when he was out. After a few days, surprising Odysseus completely, Athena comes to him and apologizes. She treated him like a soldier, yes, but a good general knows how to comfort and raise the spirits of their men after a difficult battle. Telemachus did that for her and made her see that real change could come if people were not just cunning but kind too. Telemachus growing and being confident enough to go out into the world to help the kingdom is not her guiding him away from Odysseus, it's a path he's chosen for himself because of her teaching maybe, but not one he would ever have dared to consider if he didn't have absolute faith in Odysseus being here and knowing that his home will be safe and full of light and love when he returns. They two of them will never be as close as they once were, but they do come to the understanding that their time apart changed them both and that they both occupy different roles in Telemachus' life. One is not more important than the other, and neither negates the other either. There are only 2 things that matter: 1. That Telemachus is free to pursue his future the way that he chooses to after 20 years a prisoner and protector out of his depth on his own home. And 2. If Antinous should ever fuck thing up with him and hurt Telemachus again, they will be finding a way to keep his very soul from Hades so they can continue to torture him for all eternity 🙃

Telemachus and Antinous have matching scars on their ankles from the first time Antinous drew his blood and the moment Telemachus stopped Antinous' from painting the palace floor. In the privacy of his own head, because it would be far too embarrassing to admit to his lover, he thinks of these as their wedding bands. Antinous also always notes the scars, but considers that they may have branded each other instead. His mark sentenced Telemachus to years of pain, Telemachus' brought him benediction instead. He doesn't think that's fair after everything he's done, but he tries each day to ensure the rest of his lover's life will have no more suffering.

Anyway, Antinous definitely, at some point, gets Telemachus to dress in a woman's clothes and jewelry for him. They think they're going to have a fun roleplay night of Telemachus getting debauched "against his will" (some good ol' CNC) and then it hits him hard that this is something that Antinous and his companions always thought about doing FOR REAL to his mother and he has his first subdrop. Antinous doesn't know how to comfort him when Telemachus' head is messy, and he's remembering the early days of their relationship mixed in with everything else, and it takes hours for him to stop crying and to let himself be touched, realizing after the fact that he's safe, he knows Antinous would never touch him without his permission anymore, he won't ever hurt his family again. Antinous holds him afterward like he's scared he'll break him, and he apologizes for what he did even if he knows that will never be enough. He and Telemachus end up learning that this is just something they will have to keep dealing with for a long time, maybe forever, but they will deal with it together because Telemachus is still choosing him. It takes them a while, but eventually, even though Antinous is extremely nervous about it, they try again, and this time, because Telemachus was more aware of how this could be a trigger, the scene they set is changed and they do manage to have fun like this. They just know they have to be careful now.

Odysseus and Penelope do have another child, a girl, and Telemachus is so excited about being a big brother and so happy that they're happy to have a daughter. He doesn't know what happens to him when he goes back to his and Antinous' room as has a massive panic attack, but Antinous guesses, right on the money, that it's because he's scared she might be put into the same position as his mother was someday, but he assures him that no one in this entire palace, and at least one God in the heavens, not will let that happen to her. She is going to be just fine, they will be right there to make sure that it's so.

[smallestapplin]

Small castlevania headcanons

-

-

Trevor Belmont is blind in his left eye, he can’t see very good out of it, however the Belmont bloodline, cursed or blessed, has given his body a unique ability to aid him in his hunts.

He can see the dark energy and magic monsters posses, it makes it easier to spot them on his left side as result. It’s also why Alucard has better chances of messing with him going on his right side, instead of his left.

Trevor doesn’t like you being on his left side, being human means he can’t see you there and it bugs him.

He’ll always move around you till you’re on his right, or just straight up picks you up and sets you on his right.

“I can’t see you there. ‘Sides, I like seein’ your pretty face.”

Of course he has to make it something more, but it means a lot to him when you start staying to his right. The magic in his bloodline only really works when magic is involved, so outside of battles and hunting, he can’t see on his left and has a blind spot for it.

It works wonders when you start being his sight on that side.

However this means you can prank him when he’s resting, Alucard always asks you to aid him in his devious plans cause Trevor will spot him but not you.

-

-

John Morris (yes I’m going more obscure)

John Morris is no Belmont, he’s not the rightful wielder of the vampire killer, yet he wields it anyway, knowing everytime it does it’s slowly draining the life from him.

As a result he’s chronically ill and fatigued, yet he still marches on, determined to help people determined to defeat evil and give people hope. He’s stubborn, he won’t stop.

Even when it leads to him getting sick easier, even when he’s out of breath after a battle that most Belmonts would find easy, even when he’s starting to get so, so tired.

His body aches, old wounds from previous fights flare up, his joints creak and groan worsening with changing weather. His head hurts, and relief comes sparingly. Eric, his dear friend, tries his best to help him, but their items are limited, and no magic can truly relief him of his pain.

Enter you.

Another chronically ill person knowing just what to do, even if it means nagging him to rest more, rest long, eat something even if he doesn’t eat it all, drink more water, here have this weighted bag you can heat by the fire and soothe your joints.

John feels bad you do this, but his heart swells knowing you have remedies to help him and his pain, Eric’s magic plus your skill in dealing with these make his life a little easier and a little better.

“Oh honey, you ain’t gotta do all that for me.”

And yet you still do. Even if not for long, he’s grateful for it all.

-

-

Shanoa, despite how clam she seems on the surface, is a mess on the inside, plagued with nightmares and paranoia that something will happen to you, something is bound to she swears.

You try to reassure her, but she can’t believe your words.

Her older brother is dead, sacrificing himself for her to live, her entire life was a lie meant to only be a weapon and discarded when she fulfilled her role.

Yet she still lives, alone, her family gone, and even the semblance of comfort from those same damned walls that cursed her are gone.

Strangers are an instant no for her, filling her with a fierce desire to protect you. She is your guard and your shadow, no matter how much your actions show her she’s more than that.

You love her, she’s a person.

Yet it’s so hard to let go of everything she’s ever been taught.

You could fall asleep alone and wake up to her in bed next to you, or sitting at the foot of your bed reading or even messing with one of her weapons to pass the time.

She’s a scary woman to everyone who sees her, unbothered, stoic. But to you she’s the most gentle soul, she adores you, loves you, merely wants to keep you safe.

If she fails….she doesn’t want to think about that, she can’t imagine you ever being hurt or possibly leaving her, she can’t be alone again.

“I am your weapon and your shield, I will do whatever it takes to make sure you are protected, love.”

Even if it comes at the cost of her life, she will be happy knowing it you she saved. As you cup her face, gazing at her with such love, she knows she’d do anything for you.

[iwasbored777]

Knuckles was always there to protect them

I think my favourite is this scene where he didn't want to fight Sonic even though Sonic wanted to. We know that Knuckles could've easily hurt Sonic but he didn't want to hurt his bro.

Knuckles loves his family so much I just can't... He's such a good big brother ❤️💙💛

[brionysea]

if stranger things 5 comes out and they're like 'omg! the upside down has been a product of someone's dark and twisted mind this whole time! it's... WILL!' I'll immediately lose interest

[leohunter2020]

" yeah Violet needs to make this official so I can meet the two of ten, the girl sounds so adorable and he sounds like a good fit but I can't tell without knowing him, well actually I can cuz you approve and you read people like children books, you know the one where each page is like so think you and hard, like almost from a cardboard... you know what I mean?" he said trying to explain but had no idea what they were called " the once that have like huge letters and very few words" he then stated trying to explain how good he felt Isaiah was at reading people. " but oh my god, can you imagining Aid a big brother? that's just the cutest thing ever. i want that for him, I think he would be a really good big brother" Leo then added

" no, it really does give me super powers, once its off my mind cant focus on whats important, but those things are clear as a day when I'm out on a call. Once I leave the fire station I feel like... like...." Leo wasn't sure how to explain it. e didn't wanna say broken, or that he was a pace of shit, but he often felt like that. He often felt like a bad husband because of all the setbacks and extra trouble he put on Isaiah, and at times, feeling like such a failure of a husband really pulled him down. He didn't know how to express it, he knew Isaiah didn't see it like that, and those were the days Leo put up his walls an hid in bed all day, lying that he had a terrible headache or that he just didn't feel good. That kind of was true, he felt terrible emotionally. He had voiced this once at therapy, but he had decided never to do that again, it just made him feel even worse about it. The therapist had only kept saying his emotions were valid and that he just needed to find a way to talk to Isaiah about it. That only frustrated him even more with himself. " that's just temporary and then they go home and.... " leo was starting to breathe a bit unevenly, trying not to lose his cool but the water was fighting his eyes "What if I just.... what if our kid needs us and I just freeze? that if he needs us and I can't get out of the bed in the morning? what if I'm out with our kid, and randomly have a panic attack? what if.... what if" leo felt his mind spiraling and he couldn't put his words into sentences, it was all bundling up into a mess. He quickly looked away, he couldn't look at Isaiah when he was like this. Isaiah didn't deserve all this second-guessing. " I'm sorry" he then whispered.

" im not okay with it. I don't want you to have to ask and look for approval every time. Its so frustrating" Leo admitted but he knew Isaiah had enough patience for the both of them and that made everything so much easier. Leo took a deep breath " I'm sorry baby, I didn't mean to get so.... frustrated. its not your fault. " you are so loving and caring and respectful and.... all the good things baby. I really do appreciate you, you know that right?" he asked biting his lip. If square one was what they needed, which it was, leo was going to put in so much effort to move up fast. Leo might not like to be in control, but he lived having a voice and be herd, even tho it might not be 100% verbally, Isaiah got his body language so well mapped down.

After saying Isaiah hadnt, Leo douted himself, Isaiah most likely had, Isaiah always complimented him for everything. but in the moment Leo couldn't remember so no was the answer he was rolling with. Isaiah had gotten Leo in the mood right now, he wanted nothing more than his husband. " yeah Zaya, I want you to make love to me please" the young man begged his husband

Leo longed for his husband's touch, his husband's warmth and love. He could never get enough of it. Isaiah made him feel like the most important human alive. He made him feel safe and adored. Leo knew that with Isaiah everything was more than okay, he knew his man would read his signs when Leo couldn't get out the words. His man might not run out of turning buildings with people over his shoulder, but his man saved many lives every single day, Leo being one of them. The police job was far from easy, Leo knew that, he knew the toll it could take on his husband, both physically, mentally and emotionally. But his ban was so strong and leo had promised to always e there for him no matter what he needed, he would do everything he could to support him.

Isaiah had the man breathing unevenly from pleasure as he tried his best keep cool. " how?" Leo didn't feel like his brain was working properly at the moment, his mind kept going to what Isaiah was doing and how amazing it felt. Leo couldn't help but pull ever so slightly on his husband's curls motioning him to come meet his face. the purring had only made him want his husband's love even more. " your patrol car would be so freaking hot, but I am not about to get you in trouble, ever. Thats work, we don't do things there." he said... before his mind drifted to the countless of times they had snuck off at work to have sex. In the shower, in the broom closet... pretty much everywhere they wouldn't get caught... or less likely at least " okay.... never mind, I take that back.... but no not your patrol car" he chuckled a the thought " i´m impatient today, I want you right here, right now" he told him softly. " I want your love baby" he expressed

Feeling his husbands hand on his dick and feeling his body move so their faces met in a soft and sweet kiss got Leo smiling, he really did know all of leos signals. Feeling Isaiahs nose brush against him earned Isaiah an even bigger smile. " oh baby, that wont be a problem, its just you and I in this world, and our moment" he stated, Leo always did get lost in their love making. All his worries washed away.

" oh baby, your not the only one, I need you so bad, I need you all wrapped up in me. "

Isaiah loved that his husband wanted to protect his best friend too. Violet and Leo being close made his heart happy because those two people were the ones that kept him from sinking time and time again. "Reign's got the cutest little girl. She's a little bit younger than Ayd is." Isaiah could remember Reign bringing his daughter to work one time. He'd gave the little girl a cupcake there to make a good impression. Nala seemed appreciative and had smiled so widely back at him.

He could see his husband's mind spiral as he started to think about the future that might happened between him. He seemed to be questioning if was fit for fatherhood which seemed bizarre to Isaiah. Isaiah got to witness first hand how his husband was around Violet's kid when he stopped over for a sleepover here. He was so playful, endearing and creative without even having to think about it all. "Once you take the uniform off you are the exact same person, babe. The uniform doesn't give you superhero powers. That's all on you." Clark Kent was still Superman - even when he wasn't clocked in. Isaiah knew the reasons why his husband was questioning all this. Isaiah and Leo's childhoods were different. He grow up with loving parents and a big brother that he admired and worshiped. Leo, on the other hand, had a dreadful experience. His parents were horrible. The experience that he went through shaped him into the person he was. "What makes you think you aren't? I see you around all our friends kids. I see you making them smile, comforting them, loving them."

Isaiah reached out for his husbands hands as Leo told him that he knew he loved him and wouldn't do anything to hurt him. That was right. He wouldn't dream of rushing Leo into do anything with him. Conversations were important. It was a starting point between them. "I'm okay with picking up from square one again as long as you are. You know I wouldn't do anything without you telling me it's alright." Leo's consent was the most important thing in this relationship. Isaiah knew his husband hadn't always had the option to give it out which is why he always checked and then double checked.

Isaiah furrowed his eyebrows because he should've told his husband just how great he looked from this angle countless times in the past. Those other times were missed opportunities and he wouldn't make the same mistake again. His husband deserved to be complimented. Feeling the other's hips buck up to meet his mouth meant whatever he was doing was working. "You want me to make love to you?"

Sex with Leo had a deeper meaning to Isaiah. He could remember wanting to bring the hot firefighter home with him that first night their paths crossed when he watched him saving somebody else life. Isaiah could remember watching the scene from his patrol car, practically drooling, eyes focused on the man looking like an action hero with fire blazing behind him and another man thrown over his shoulder before placing him down. He looked so strong and brave. Leo didn't always see himself like that but Isaiah did all the time.

He continued going down as his husband to him all hot and heavy. "How'd you want it this time?" That conversation was one of the most important between them and he always asked to make sure he wouldn't accidentally do something that might trigger his husband. His husband's hand clenching between his curls had him purring. Isaiah was big on having his husbands hands guiding him slightly. "Here? Upstairs? In the backseat of my patrol car?"

He let his hand take over from his mouth for a couple of seconds as he leaned up slightly to kiss his husband again. His nose brushed against Leo's showering him with his love and patience and kindness. "I want us to make love and I want you to not be able to stop thinking about it. I want just the thought of it to get you like all like this." His thumb swiped over the other's member as he watched his chest rise and fall.

"I need you."

[lloydfrontera]

if i think too long about the ending making lloyd leave the home he worked so hard to save behind along with the new found family he sacrificed his life for so he can move to a place he has no emotional connection to where he only knows two people (one of which is actually following him from the aforementioned home) in order to make him get a standard "have a wife and children" 'happy' ending i start wanting to bite people not gonna lie

[impossible-rat-babies]

I’m thinking about the ran-jit fight again and how u end up killing him and how it still feels. not great that you kill him, but I can kinda see it from an eyrie pov of being the one to kill him

[enslaughts]

@doomdays. . . akilah.

' do whatever you have to do. '

most days, javi sleeps. they all do, but they don't all have a room to themselves, and even travis has taken to sleeping by the fire with the rest of them. they're too tired to do much else, too weak. too hungry. everything reeks of it ; starvation and fear, like saliva. sleeping, waking nightmares, one - sided conversations in the corners of the cabin, glazed over gazes stared at nothing. someone's going to die soon. shauna almost killed one of them with her own hands, bare and white to red - knuckled, wild, may yet still. javi doesn't want to eat lottie. he doesn't want to be like them, but someone's going to die soon, he knows this. dreams of it, over and over in the fine lines of the wood grain, memorized.

lately, though, he dreams of worse things. sunlight and stovetops. travis' eyes but older, taller, heavy. travis, younger, shorter, lighter. small smiles over a table and hot food in his mouth. when he wakes, the ring on his thumb feels too loose, too cold, like a piece of him's broken off. left hanging by a thread. when he wakes, there's water in his eyes and his mouth and what feels like his lungs, sputtered and wheezing out into the white, where it's too cold to feel. it should be, anyway. today, he's a prey animal, folded at the tree - line, the waist, sheer hunger, tucked away and hidden. he wants to leave. he wants to run again so bad he can taste it, frost turned to thaw in his mouth, sweet respite from the snow. he doesn't warm his hands in it, though— no, he presses them into the frozen ground until he can't feel them anymore.

only then does he notice akilah. flinches with his eyes and nothing else, hers almost black in the pre - dawn blue, but they're wide, imploring, and javi is too out in the open, too seen. for a moment, he's tucked in a darker, greener place, moonlight and fire, and it's shauna's black, black gaze boring into his. akilah opens her mouth and all javi hears is run. but he can't— i can't, he wants to say. needs to ; to her, to travis, they weren't like the others. alikah was just as hungry as the rest of them, but she was also good, and kind, not just to him, and he thinks he could trust her, but his lips are sealed and shaking, and he can only shake some more, his head, side to side, no. no. he won't leave travis. not again.

[jankillbride]

.

[tornado1992]

Cuddly brubers

Taking shifts❤️💙🧡

[poppyseedsphone]

I think next gen AUs are fun but lately I have not been able to take them as seriously because my sister and I made the most ridiculous next gen au of our OCs ever where none of the ships make any sense and there’s a whole plot about a worm cult for some reason as well. It’s amazing highly recommend making next gen AUs where the pairs could’ve easily been randomly generated for all the fandom knows