#i don’t think there’s a way to get around that she’s rescued by a man

[trucywright]

I think an Ariadne myth retelling should end like Catullus 64 and Ovid’s Heroides.

Ariadne, abandoned on the island, thinking her story is over. She will die on this solitary island and never even be buried. She’s cursed Theseus and sealed his fate but that’s all she can do.

And then she hears the sounds of Bacchus’ chorus. The sun is rising. She looks up and sees Bacchus walking in the distance. She snatches back her happy ending.

[lizardho]

I came out to my dad as bisexual at 14 and I was PANICKED because I had a crush on a guy in my Boy Scout troop and thought I was Going To Hell Forever and he was so kind and understanding of my distress, but he had NO idea what bisexuality was. He just said “yeah but you like girls too? This is normal. Everyone is like this.” And I love my dad and trust him with my life to this day and the idea that the concept of bisexuality had not occurred to him had not occurred to me so I put it off.

By 16 though I had a crush on like THREE boys. Three entire boys in my Boy Scout troop. I felt like my sin was slowly advancing, until like an untreated cancer it had become metastatic. I remember bawling my L’il limp-wristed sissy eyes out in his big rumbly truck on the way home from a scout meeting and him telling me that it was OK, that he still loved me if I was gay, but that he knew I wasn’t gay because I still had crushes on women and that meant I was straight. I didn’t quite know how to explain that those felt *~*different*~* and that I felt like I was losing a fight to evil inside me but I again felt comforted by his reassurances and his genuine fatherly love.

At 18 I was like “hey I’m realizing all my friends are going on missions. I don’t wanna do that. Idk how to say that and I don’t have a ‘good enough’ reason to not wanna go.” So I just put it off. Again, my parents were extremely supportive of the information I gave them (I blamed it on perpetually forgetting to start the paperwork.) and one day my mom texted me that she had done the paperwork for me! And that all I needed was to get a physical! So I did that (it was awkward af tbh, my hernia check was done by a trainee doctor and she spent like 3 minutes fishing around my inguinal canals before her attending rescued me) and was sent to Mexico City where I learned that in addition to dipshit himbos with strong hands and scruffy guys with artistic hearts I was REALLY into chubby Latin men with strong personalities who bullied me a little when I lived in Mexico.

I remember my first companion got annoyed with me during an argument and said we were just gonna wrestle and whoever won the wrestling match won the argument (I stg I am dead serious this happened.) I was like…SWEATING when he tore off his tie and threw his white button-down shirt onto the ground (I won btw, don’t ask me how).

I remember one of my companions with this really intense, almost manic energy telling me that he was gonna make sure I was safe in a new area I didn’t know very well. He cooked breakfast for me and we’d go shopping together on P-Days and in the mornings before breakfast he’d jog around and do pull-ups with his shirt off and I’d do anything but look at him because my face would break out in a sweat so intense he’d think I was crying and come over to see if I was OK and somehow make it worse. He let me play D&D with myself in the evenings even though it was against mission rules because he knew how lonely and stressed I was.

I remember one of my companions was a big chubby man with a loud voice and a great sense of humor. He was kind and direct when addressing conflicts with me, and always bragged about how he knew the secrets of women’s minds and it felt like he really did since it almost always boiled down to “Treat Them Like People and Love Them a Lot. Don’t Stop Being A Person For Them. Also Eat Them Out Sloppy Style.” Our P-Day activities sometimes felt like dates, and it seemed like he was more attentive to my emotional state than I was since he was always the first to suggest we slow down our Divinely Mandated, God-Ordained, Super Sacred Work and Wonder to get a snack or check out a Pawn Shop (I love Pawn Shops).

I remember another companion who asked me to bully him every time he did something against his goal of losing weight. It was like he gave me Carte Blanche to take out my crush on him by being a nuisance and I LOVED that. I remember having a breakdown one day after we’d spent the afternoon frantically cleaning our disgusting-barely-habitable mission house to make it look less vile that it was (not our fault imo?) and I started bawling and he pulled me into a hug and he smelled good and he told me he knew it wasn’t just the house and that I was mad at him for being a Huge Dickhead for about a week (true) and that he would work on it. (He’s also a huge chaser but that’s a separate thing.)

I remember one of my companions waking up early (and our schedule is already built for sleep deprivation) to make me a “birthday cake” from knock-off Nutella and bread. He used matches for candles and woke me up, lit the ‘candles,’ pulled them out, then smashed it in my face and took a bunch of pictures while I was still madrugada and disoriented as fuck. He had the same sense of humor as one of my HS crushes and I could push his buttons pretty easily which was so fun.

I came home from my mission and started back at BYU where I became actively and aggressively suicidal. I had a stalker the year I moved up there and my dad’s solution to that was to get me a gun. I know he wouldn’t have bought me a gun if he could have read my mind, but I had a loaded pistol under my bed during a trifecta faith/sexuality/gender crisis and that was not helpful. I remember that the day I decided to kill myself I figured I’d call the BYU CAPS and see if I could get into therapy because it felt like what I was “supposed to do” so I could check my suicide boxes. My therapist was the guy who’d helped me pick a major the year before and was this drop-dead gorgeous Hawaiian man who cried when I told him how I’d been feeling.

A few weeks into therapy I met another stunning man with soft eyes and a scruffy illegal-at-BYU beard he kept pushing his luck with. He was funny, kind, patient, married, and wouldn’t give me the time of day if he knew I was crushing on him. We were in my history of psych class, which was inarguably the worst psych class I have ever had, and we studied together for every assignment and test and I realized that my feelings for him and for all the men I’d already mentioned were in direct conflict with my faith and relationship with God. My already agonizing spiritual conflict became even more wretched and as a result of this plus some other tightly-packed experiences with Mormonisms bullshit, I left the church.

After leaving the church I decided to move back to AZ and transfer to ASU. My mom helped me get a dog since I think it had started to dawn on my family that my mental health was barely getting me through the day, and she knew that we both loved dogs. Madi made my last year at BYU livable while I got my shit together and transferred. In that last year, I went on a date with quite possibly the only semi-openly-out trans person on BYU campus. It was not a great date imo, I was not doing well, but the person I spoke with was fun and fascinating and talked to me about Gender Dysphoria and it really cemented my need to go. To leave and never come back to that fucking school.

I started at ASU a month after my last semester at BYU and within a very short time frame it felt like I was coming back together, like a puzzle magically putting itself together in an environment that wasn’t slowly draining that puzzle’s will to live.

On the 4th of July, the year I started at ASU, I saw a transition timeline photo of a gorgeous happy beautiful happy radiant happy woman and her former Mormon missionary self and I realized the light that was on in her eyes was the light that was off in mine. I looked into transitioning for 3 days, sleeping about 10 hours total during that time. I started talking to other trans people on Reddit (one of whom is now my beautiful fiancée @cintailed) and after about a month of making preparations to be disowned and kicked out, something I was not sure would happen but was ready to go through to Turn On The Lights, I came out to my family and it was amazing. I started HRT a month after that. I secretly dated some dorky guys for about a year while I applied to grad schools. I got into a great grad school for me and my needs. I got FFS. I did my trainings and classes. Me and my fiancée moved in together after some LDR shenanigans. We’ve lived together now for 4 years of basically marital bliss. We have a cat named Grandmother Esmeralda Weatherwax who bites the hell out of my feet about three times a day. My bi-cycle continues to be part of my life but now it’s not as scary. Baby gays in my life have started to look to me for advice. Idk how this all happened so fast. When the years, months, weeks, days, and hours seems to crawl by so slowly now they are rushing past me so fast it’s almost bewildering. Whereas before I felt like I was living on borrowed time, past my ‘expiration date,’ now it feels like I can Fucking Breathe. I’m training myself to slow down now and it feels worth it to Live In The Moment.

Idk why I wrote this. Idk why these thoughts only seem to come up on Sundays when I’m supposed to be writing my dissertation. Idk why I’m crying rn or why I feel so happy. I’m gonna post this shit then get on with my dissertation I guess. Read more Terry Pratchett and give yourselves the time you need. Get a pet. Talk to someone. Re-examine the events that brought you here. Be gayer. Love y’all 💕

[d1stalker]

Suspension Bridge Effect [Logan Howlett]

Summary: You saved one of the younger mutants during a mission, and now he's obsessed with you, much to Logan's dismay

Warnings: mainly Logan POV, jealousy, cuteness, fem!reader WC: 2.6k - MASTERLIST

----

Logan’s losing it; his thoughts are spiralling to the point where he wonders if he should be locked up.

At least, that’s what he thinks is happening as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. You’re standing near the edge of the mansion's garden, laughing softly as the kid—Johnny, a younger teenage mutant—tries to hand you a bouquet of hastily picked flowers. His face is flushed, eyes wide with admiration, and he’s practically vibrating with nervous energy as he looks up at you.

This punk, this moron, this lovesick blockhead, has been glued to your side ever since you saved him during the last mission.

It was supposed to be a standard run-of-the-mill rescue operation, but when things went south, and he was cornered, you swooped in like the hero you are and got him out unscathed. Now, the kid’s been following you around like a lost puppy, trying to win your attention, your approval—your everything. And it’s infuriating.

Logan can feel his hands clench into fists as he watches Johnny offer you the worst attempt at a bouquet he's ever seen, and sees the youngster's face turning a deeper shade of red as he mumbles something the older man can’t quite hear. Probably some dumb compliment, he thinks bitterly. The kid’s got no game.

You smile at Johnny. It's that soft, kind smile that always makes Logan’s heart skip a beat. But this time, all it does is fuel the fire raging within. He knows that smile isn’t just for him, but damn it, he wishes it were.

He wishes you’d tell the kid to scram, that you’re already spoken for, that you have a lovely boyfriend who could put together a way better bunch of flowers, but instead, you take the flowers with a gentle laugh, thanking the goblin like he’s just handed you a priceless treasure.

And somehow, the torment is never ending, it seems. Because later in the day he find’s himself lurking at the doorway of the mansion library, watching as you and Johnny sit together, heads bent over some book he know knows the little gremlin is just pretending to be interested in. That brat is soaking up every second of your attention, hanging on your every word, and it’s driving Logan up the wall.

“He’s just a kid,” you keep saying whenever he grumbles about it, but you don’t see it. You don’t see the way the bastard’s eyes light up whenever you smile at him, or how he leans in just a little too close when you’re explaining something to him. You don’t notice the small touches—the way his hand lingers on your arm when he’s pulling you somewhere, the way he looks at you like you’re the centre of his universe.

Logan sees it all, because he’s been there before. He knows exactly what Johnny’s feeling because he felt the same way when he first met you. Still does. It's that intense, all-consuming crush that makes you do stupid things just to be near the person you can’t stop thinking about.

“Logan, you’re staring,” Jean’s voice cuts through his thoughts, and he turns to see her smirking at him from across the hallway.

“I’m not starin’. Just keepin’ an eye on things,” he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You’re jealous.”

He scowls at her. “I ain’t jealous of some kid.”

“Sure you’re not,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Why don’t you just talk to her about it?”

Clenching his jaw, he knows she’s right but not wanting to admit it. “She doesn’t get it. She thinks it’s cute.”

“Maybe if you told her how you’re feeling, she’d understand,” Jean suggests gently, though there’s a knowing look in her eyes.

Huffing and turning away from the library, Logan has decided that he’s had enough of standing on the sidelines. He needs to do something before he loses his mind entirely. But it seems he can’t escape this torture, because he can’t even get five minutes alone with you.

He tried to get your attention after you finished up teaching your class, but before he could, the little devil ran in front of him and got it first. His eye twitches as he watches Johnny offer you another “gift,” this time a poorly folded paper crane. You take it with a smile, thanking him kindly, and Logan grits his teeth so hard he swears his molars might shatter.

“Hey, kid,” He grumbles, stepping forward with a growl in his throat that would send most people running. “Don’t you got somewhere else to be?”

Johnny looks up, momentarily startled by the sharp tone, but then just gives a nervous chuckle and scratches the back of his head. “Uh, no, sir. I was just, um, hanging out with her.”

“Yeah, well, she’s got things to do. Don’t you, darlin’?” Logan’s eyes flicker to you, hoping you’ll catch the hint and send the kid on his way.

But you don’t. You just laugh. A musical sound that makes him want to clamp his hand over your mouth because why should that devil's spawn get to hear your beautiful voice? He’s truly about to lose it. 

“It’s fine, babe. Johnny’s just being sweet.”

Sweet. Logan wants to snort. Sweet is one word for it. Obnoxious, irritating, and clingy are a few others that come to mind.

“You got a crush or somethin’, boy?” His tone is laced with a dangerous edge as he crosses his arms over his chest, towering over the knucklehead. He’s trying not to outright scare him, but damn, he’s close to it.

Johnny turns beet red, stammering, “N-no, I just… she saved me, and I just wanted to say thank you, that’s all!”

Narrowing his eyes, a low snarl rumbles from his chest, and Logan takes a deliberate step forward, but before he can do more, you place a hand on his arm, pulling him back.

“Logan, that’s enough,” you say firmly, giving him a pointed look. 

Well, there goes another piece of his sanity.

You’re too kind, too understanding. You just don't get it. To you, it’s just an innocent crush, something harmless, something that makes you smile. You think it’s nothing, and that only makes his blood boil more.

“Fine,” he finally mutters, stepping back, though his eyes never leave the teenager’s. Johnny seems to take that as some kind of begrudging acceptance and gives you another shy smile before scurrying off, likely to find the next token of his gratitude to bring to you.

Once he’s gone, Logan lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is drivin’ me nuts, you know that?”

You just chuckle again, stepping closer to him and slipping your arms around his waist. “It’s just a phase, I’m sure. He’ll get over it.”

Wrapping his arms around you tightly and pulling you in close, he feels a little bit better in your embrace, but his eyes still track where Johnny disappeared into the mansion. “He better. ’Cause if he doesn’t, I might lose my damn mind.”

You tilt your head up, kissing his jaw softly. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

He huffs, not wanting to admit it, but the truth is written all over his face. “Maybe a little.”

Smiling, you lean up to kiss him properly. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Logan kisses you back, a little more possessively than usual, as if to remind himself that you’re his. And even as you melt into him, he can’t help but keep one eye open, scanning the garden for any sign of that kid returning. He might be crazy, but he’ll be damned if he lets some lovestruck teenager get between him and the woman he loves.

—

The next morning, the mansion is buzzing with its usual activity. You and Logan head to the dining hall for breakfast, with him looking a little more relaxed after a night of holding you close. But the moment you step into the room, he spots a certain demon sitting at a table, eyes locked on you as if he’s been waiting for this very moment.

Groaning under his breath, Logan mutters, “Not again,” before guiding you to a table near the windows, hoping Johnny won’t follow.

You take your seat, smiling up at your boyfriend as he pulls out his chair, and for a brief second, he dares to believe that he might actually get to enjoy a quiet breakfast with you. But just as he’s about to sit down beside you, Johnny swoops in out of nowhere, plopping down in Logan’s seat with a grin like he’s just won the lottery.

“Morning!” He chirps, completely oblivious to the thunderous look on the other man’s face.

Freezing in his place, Logan glares at the kid who’s now sitting where he was supposed to be. He mentally cycles through a list of unflattering nicknames—Useless Idiot, Captain Obnoxious, Motherfu—but none of them seem quite strong enough to capture his current feelings. “You’re in my seat, kid.”

Johnny blinks up at him, feigning innocence. “Oh, uh, sorry. I didn’t see your name on it.”

You can practically see the self-control it takes for Logan not to pick the kid up and toss him across the room. His fingers twitch at his sides, his claws itching to come out, but he holds back. For your sake, and only your sake.

“Johnny,” you start, trying to keep your voice gentle but firm, “you do know he is my boyfriend, right? And even if he wasn’t, I’m a bit too, uh, old for you?”

The young mutant's eyes widen, and for a split second, you think you might have gotten through to him. But then he glances over at Logan, his face scrunching up like he’s just eaten something sour.

“Yeah, but he’s, like, hella old,” The idiot blurts out, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as if the mutant standing right there can’t hear every word.

Logan’s expression darkens, a storm brewing in his eyes as his jaw tightens to the point where you can almost hear his teeth grinding. Hella old? Is this guy serious?

He's dealt with all kinds of enemies—mutants, monsters, government assassins—but nothing, nothing has tested his patience like this hellspawn has been. “What did you just say?” he growls menacingly.

Johnny, either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, doesn’t back down. “I mean, no offense, but you’ve got a lot of… uh, experience, you know? And you’re like centuries old. Maybe she needs someone closer to her age.”

That’s the last straw. Logan’s eyes flash with anger and something else—something more vulnerable that you rarely see. A part of him knows the gremlin’s just talking out of his ass, but the words hit a little too close to home, stirring up old insecurities he usually keeps buried deep.

Without another word, he slams his hand down onto the table, the sound echoing through the dining hall like a gunshot. The room falls into stunned silence as he then storms out, his footsteps heavy and his anger radiating off of him in waves. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t acknowledge the whispers that follow in his wake. He just needs to get away before he does something he’ll regret.

“Logan, wait—” you call after him, but he’s already halfway out the door.

You turn back to Johnny, who’s now looking a little less confident and a lot more like he might have made a mistake. Sighing, you lean forward with a serious expression. “You can’t just say things like that. He’s not just my boyfriend. He’s the person I love.”

Looking down at the table, his face falls, and he begins fiddling with the napkin in his lap. “I didn’t mean to make him mad. I just thought—You saved me and I felt something…I thought maybe you’d feel something for me too.”

You soften, reaching out to pat his hand. “Johnny, you’re a sweet kid, but you’ve got to understand that Logan’s the one I’m with, and no one can replace him.”

He nods slowly, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. “I get it,” he mumbles. “I just…”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “You’ll find someone your own age who’s perfect for you. But for now, you need to give us some space, okay?”

Johnny nods again, this time more resolutely. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Just… try not to instigate anything else. I’ll go talk to him.” You give him one last reassuring smile before heading toward the exit.

When you step out into the hallway, you barely have a second to process your thoughts and decide where to look before you’re suddenly pressed up against the wall. A gasp escapes your lips, but it’s quickly swallowed by Logan’s mouth on yours. The surprise melts away as the intensity of his kiss overtakes your senses, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

His kiss is possessive and fierce. You can feel the frustration, the jealousy, the need to claim what’s his, pouring out of him with every movement of his lips against yours. For a moment, you lose yourself in the heat of it, letting the world around you fade as you focus solely on him.

Then, through the haze of the kiss, the practical part of your brain kicks in. You pull back just enough to murmur against his lips, “Logan… we’re gonna get caught.”

He growls softly, his lips trailing down to your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. “Let them see,” he mutters between kisses. “Maybe then that damn dunce will get the hint.”

You laugh, though the sound is cut off as he captures your lips again, his hands gripping your waist as if he’s afraid to let go. “Babe, really,” you whisper, trying to sound serious but failing as your body responds eagerly to his touch. “People are gonna see…”

“I don’t care,” he grumbles, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear, making you involuntarily shiver against him. “Shoulda thrown that little shit out on his ass… let him know who you belong to.”

“You’re jealous of a teenager,” you tease, though the words come out breathless and almost lost in the intensity of the moment.

Logan pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark. “Don’t like him sniffin’ around you, thinkin’ he’s got a shot.”

You smile up at him, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him back down for another kiss. “You don't need to feel threatened by him. You’re the only one I want.”

He huffs softly, his lips brushing against yours as he mutters, “Damn right I am.”

“C’mon,” you murmur, gently pushing against his chest. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private, huh?”

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering back toward the dining hall, as if half-expecting Johnny to come barreling out any second. But then he nods, taking your hand and leading you down the hallway, away from prying eyes. His grip on your hand is tight, territorial, and you can’t help but smile as you follow him.

As you walk together, you give his hand a squeeze. “Logan?”

“Yeah?” He glances over at you, his expression softening slightly.

“I love you, you know that?” You say it with that pretty grin of yours, and the way his eyes warm in response makes your heart flutter.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice quieter now, more sincere. “I love you too.”

The remaining tension melts away, leaving just the two of you walking hand in hand, ready to steal a few more precious moments together.

----

A/N: this was really fun to write!

[peachesofteal]

The wallflower.

Johnny clocks it immediately, your shoulders practically pinned against the pale-yellow wall, pint glass slick with condensation cradled between your fingers. Your eyes dart around and then away, finding something to study in the carpet, or the stairs, on the coffee table.

You’re not comfortable here, that much is clear.

He elbows Simon. “Poor girl looks nervous.” Simon gives you a furtive glance over the rim of his glasses, and nods.

“Probably only knows one person. Or got dragged here.” It’s Kyle’s wife’s birthday party. She has a lot of friends it seems, well liked in all facets of her life, work and otherwise. He clucks his tongue. “Sweet thing.” Someone bumps into you, and then pivots, reaching out to grab your arm in apology. You don’t tell him off or pull away. You just glance at his hand, meek smile stretching your lips sour. It turns Johnny’s stomach.

“She needs rescuing.”

“Johnny.” There’s a warning in Simon’s tone, a reproachful sentiment that he knows well. No strays. No projects. No more shelter pets.

“Ach c’mon. Look at her.” That one muscle in Simon’s cheek feathers, the one that says everything without Simon saying anything at all. Broken resolve.

He sighs. Johnny grins.

“Ye alright?” The man who’s taken up a residence at your shoulder is now speaking to you. Worse, he’s asking you if you’re alright.  

“I… I’m good. Yeah. Fine.” You grip your glass tighter, ignoring the flip of your stomach. You snuck at glance at him when he first came over, and that was enough. He’s very handsome.

And you’re, well-

You’re… you.

“Someone ditch ye?” Oh god.

“Uh, no. My friend is over there.” You point to Anna’s back. She’s in the kitchen, laughing so loud you can hear her from across the living room.

“Ah. She did ditch ye.”

“No!” You glare at him, “No.”

“But she didnae offer to introduce you to anyone?” You wince, and his eyes flicker with sympathy. “Ah, she did.”

“I’m not good with… people.” The understatement of the year. You don’t do people. People are too unpredictable, too much of an unknown. A pattern of behavior will only take you so far, and it’s hard to forecast their actions, reactions, words, emotions… everything.

You prefer safer bets. Predictable things. Equations, mostly.

“Ye’re not good w’people, but ye’re at a party.”

“Yes, it’s quite a feat.” You snap your mouth shut, expecting him to give you a weird look, but he laughs.

“If ye’re uncomfortable, why stay?”

“Because, social interactions are good for me. And I promised myself a slice of cheese pizza if I made it an hour.” He should laugh. Most would. Most would think it’s fucking hilarious, how you’re bribing yourself, dangling a carrot in front of your face.

But this guy doesn’t. He doesn’t laugh. He cocks his head, and frowns. “So… ye’re torturing yourself so ye can earn a slice of pizza.” A nervous giggle bubbles up and out your throat.

“It sounds bad when you put it that way but-“

“It is bad.” A deep voice sounds from over your shoulder, and you jump.

“This is Simon.” Your new… friend, Johnny, motions to the hulking man at your side, and you manage a nod, spitting out your name. “He’s no’ scary, just looks it.” Johnny reaches for his hand, and the equation clicks to together with ease.

Oh.

“You here with a friend?”

“Uh. Yep.” You point to Anna, again, and they exchange a look.

“She ditch ya?” Same question, different accent, and you’re about to give the same answer, when Johnny intercedes.

“She’s here so she can have a slice of pizza.” Yeah. It sounds bad.

“Wot?”

“I… It’s good for me to be around people so I said if I could do it for an hour, I could have pizza.” They’re both wearing expressions you can’t translate, two faces you don’t understand, and it twists you up.

“Do you usually ransom yourself pizza?”

“N-no.”

“Is it… an eating thing?”

“Oh, no. It’s like… I’d rather be at home, but everyone says socializing is… important. So, for doing something I hate, I get pizza.” Simon sighs.

“Trying to fit a square into a circle.” The comment is puzzling, but as you’re trying to put it together, Johnny links his pinky with yours and tugs you closer. The room is quiet, the music, the laughing, the chatter, all of it goes silent. There are dozens and dozens of people in here, but right now, it’s just you and these two. Staring at one another. There’s a web thin string spinning from him, to you, to Simon, and it’s wrapping you up, cocooning you, holding you tight.

“This okay?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Ye wannae go get that slice with us?” Do it. Just do it. Do something. You take a deep breath.

“Sure.”  

They look comical, shoved into the pleather red booth across the table from you, Simon far too wide to comfortably accommodate Johnny, but they don’t seem to mind. “So, cheese then?” You nod, picking at the faded corner of a menu. This was a bad idea, this was stupid. What were you thinking? Why-

“Three slices of cheese please.” You hadn’t even noticed the server, and you panic when she starts to turn away.

“And a coke!” You blurt, immediately embarrassed. She stares at you for a second before nodding, forcing a smile, and walking off. Fuck. You press your palm down on the table, trying to focus on the texture, the feel of it.

“Hey,” Simon says softly, “you didn’t do anything wrong.” You bristle.

“I know that.” Of course you know… don’t you?

Clearly not.

They don’t try to force you into conversation, but they do talk to you. They don’t ask you pointed questions or try to dig into you, instead choosing to tell you about themselves, their dog, their jobs. They keep you involved without dragging you in unwillingly.

It’s nice.

You’re halfway through your slice when you realize they’re watching you.

 “What? Is there something on my face?” You frantically wipe at your chin, your cheeks. Simon’s mouth quirks.

“Nothing on your face, sweet girl.” Your brain scrambles. Words fail. You don’t think anyone has ever called you something like that before.

“Oh. Okay. Well. Good.” Stupid.

“Go on and finish up.” He instructs, pointing at the grease laden slice, and you bring it to your mouth obediently. “Want to come for a walk with us after this? Our favorite park is around the corner, and the moon is really bright tonight.” A walk. With them. A walk? What does that mean? Just like, a walk?

Do it. Just do it. Do something. Be brave.

You roll your shoulders, and take a bite of your pizza, chewing slowly and swallowing.

And then you nod.

“Yes.”

[sunflowerwinds]

take care | s.a

summary: you get absolutely hammered at a party with your bestfriend, caitlyn, and you call your girlfriend to the rescue when your exhaustion hits you out of nowhere. sevika takes care of your intoxicated state and the groggy morning after.

pairing: fem!reader x sevika arcane

contains: slight modern!au (they use cell phones), established relationship, alcohol consumption, cait & mel being BAD BITCHES, fluff, mentions of suggestive content, sevika being so attentive and patient <3

word count: 2.9K

a/n: absolutely self-indulgent, i wrote this the day after recovering from a hangover LMAO <3 i hope you all enjoy!!

You truthfully couldn’t remember the last time you had gotten as drunk as you were at this very moment. A friend of your best friend's had invited you two out to this warehouse party-club situation. You were hesitant at first, not knowing if you had that in you but the second you arrived at the apartment of the friend, who you found out was named Mel, and they were pregaming with Fireball and Malibu shots, you knew you were incredibly fucked.

You had a great time, granted.

Your best friend, Caitlyn, Mel, and you made new friends amid the crowd. The girls were so lovely, throwing compliments on hair, makeup, and outfits back and forth.

Before you knew it you had made your way onto the stage with the DJ, telling him to play a certain selection of songs. He even lets you queue them up on his laptop. You huff as you realize that you want to go home but Mel was talking to some tall man who was quite handsome off stage in a corner and Caitlyn was with you on stage but she was busy talking to a red-haired butch that was covered in tattoos on the other side of the large stage.

You reach lazily into your back pocket, pulling out your phone to call your girlfriend. You blink rapidly to try and focus your eyes on your screen, leaning a bit to one side as if that would help your slightly blurry vision due to both your intoxication and the number of strobe lights.

You successfully press the call button and hold the speaker up to your ear as you take slow steps over to Caitlyn, tapping her bare shoulder as she is wearing a rosewood red lace tank and a short black skirt. You mutter an apology to someone you bumped into as you tap on her shoulder again.

She turns her head around to see you holding up your phone to your ear, furrowing her brows.

“Wait, darling, who are you calling?” Caitlyn shouts over the music, one hand on the girl’s shoulder that she was talking to and the other brushing her long blue hair over her ear.

“Sevik– Hi, baby!” You beam as the line clicks, cutting yourself off before nodding to Caitlyn and mouthing, ‘Sevika’.

You think you hear a little bit of shuffling on the other line before you shake your head with a frown, looking up at your best friend. The line clicked off so you assumed you needed to go somewhere quiet to be able to talk to the woman you loved.

“Cait, wait a minute. I’m gonna,” you take a deep breath to stabilize yourself, holding a hand out to make sure you don’t face plant onto the ground. “‘M gonna go just a little bit outside so that Sev can pick us up. I’ll be righ’ back, okay?”

“No, no, you’re not going alone. Wait right here. Do not move.”

The taller woman turns to the butch she was talking to, sending her a quick flirty smile before leaning down to say something in her ear. You wait patiently for her, looking down at your screen again to see a few message notifications from Sevika.

from sevi ❤︎ | Babe, is everything okay?

from sevi ❤︎ | You did mean to call me, right?

from sevi ❤︎ | Please text me, my love. I’m getting a bit worried.

Your heart aches at the bright reminders that you have a girlfriend: who cares about your well-being. You look up to see Caitlyn placing a kiss to the woman's cheek before handing her back her phone. You swore even being as drunk as you were, you could tell how flustered that woman was. You understood though.

Caitlyn is fucking stunning.

“We grab Mel and we head outside, okay? I see her right there.” Caitlyn’s long arm hooks on yours, a big of a smug grin on her face.

“She was hot! You gave her your number right?” You squeal as you carefully step down with Caitlyn to the ground level once again.

A wave of nausea washed over you as you attempted to balance yourself out. You believe Caitlyn confirmed the fact that she had gotten the butch’s number but the next thing you remember is being face-to-face with Mel and the man she had been talking to.

She tells you his name, leaning in to shout it in your ear.

“Jay? Hi Jay! You are very handsome,” you shout in his face, a stupid smile on your face.

The man’s face twists in amusement at your state and looks at Mel with a softer expression. “H-Hi! It’s Jayce but thank you.”

Your mouth forms into an ‘o’ at how you misheard the name, stuttering out apologies. He waves it off, telling you it's okay.

“I think someone’s calling you,” the man, Jayce, points to your phone that was buzzing in your hand.

You look down at it, muttering a curse as it was Sevika calling you once again and you are still inside the loud crowded warehouse.

“Meli, we’ve got to go outside for a moment. Sevika’s calling her,” Caitlyn placed a hand on Mel’s forearm.

Mel looked between you and Jayce, excusing herself to the man and reassuring him that she’d be right back. He told her it was fine and to not worry about it. You couldn’t hold back your awe and wave ‘bye’ at Jayce as Caitlyn and Mel now had one arm hooked on either one of yours as the three of you made your way outside.

“I’ll call her back,” Caitlyn reaches for your phone that was gripped tightly in your hand.

You easily allow her to take it from you, resting your head on Mel’s shoulder as the fresh air hits you the second you step outside. You hum a random tune as Mel rests her head on your head too, rubbing her free palm on your hand.

Caitlyn took a step away from you two to dial Sevika on your phone again to let her know that you were fine and just wanted to go home. Within minutes after ringing her back, Sevika was in her beaten town truck just across the street. You gasped at the sight of it, even in your drunken state, you were able to recognize the familiar vehicle.

Sevika walks over to you three, greeting Mel and Caitlyn first before allowing you to wrap your arms around her torso to lean into her touch. You held yourself up weakly, stumbling over the curb.

“Sevika,” you sigh with a slight groan.

“Yeah, baby, I’m here. We’re gonna go home,” the taller of you two leaned down to press a kiss to your damp temple from your sweat.

“We’ll see you on Monday. I’ll call you tomorrow to make sure you’re okay.” Caitlyn assures you with a sweet grin, leaning back into Mel now that you are clinging to your girlfriend.

“Wait, who’s taking you home? I don’ want you guys to be here alone,” you look up at Sevika and point your finger over her shoulder to her truck. “Let’s take ‘em home, baby.”

Mel and Caitlyn are quick to assure you and your girlfriend that the man that they were previously talking to would take them home as he was the DD for his best friend that he was with that night. You stare unable to remember for a moment who they were talking about.

“Ohhh, Jaycey boy! He seems really nice, Meli. I’m so happy for you,” you nod in approval with a thumbs up as you lean into Sevika’s chest.

“She has our locations, Sevika,” Caitlyn tells your girlfriend, hinting to her to check it every once in a while to make sure the man wouldn’t take them anywhere they weren’t supposed to.

Sevika nods in understanding, sternly telling the two to please be safe. Mel showed a photo of Jayce to Sevika to make sure she knew who this man was. Your mind only had bits and pieces of that night that you were able to remember.

For instance, after Sevika had picked you up, you couldn’t remember the drive home whatsoever. What you do remember is begging Sevika to get some Nacho Fries and a frozen Baja Blast.

You reached over her lap from the passenger's seat to tell the worker your order, Sevika placing a hand on your lower stomach to keep you steady so you wouldn’t fall forward and hit your face on the car door.

“Wait, Sevi, do you wan’ anything?” You turn your back into the car to look at your girlfriend.

“No, I’m okay. Thank you, baby.” she leans forward to kiss your side before patting your hip to motion for you to sit back down.

“Mm okay,” you hum before telling the worker that should be everything and snuggle back down into your seat.

After paying for the food and handing it to you in the passenger's seat, Sevika told you that you were almost home and you could eat it then. You didn’t listen and ate all of the fries in her car and hounded down the Baja Blast with ease.

Thankfully, your shared apartment was only a few minutes away from Taco Bell.

Sevika had opened your passenger's side door when you arrived, holding back an amused at the giddy expression on your face. She held her arm out for you to grasp onto as you stepped down onto the concrete of the road. You hum to yourself as you look up at Sevika, raising your free hand to pat her broad shoulder.

“Baby, would it be so bad if we…?” You trail off as you giggle to yourself at the thought.

“If we what?” Sevika hums back as her arm slithers around your waist to hold you up as the two of you make your way to your apartment.

Sevika internally cursed as she knew you wouldn’t want to go up all of the stairs. You two lived on the fourth floor.

“Well, I don’t know. What we woul’ usually be doing on a Friday– Oh!”

You yelp as Sevika wraps her arms around your waist to hoist you up and over her shoulder, cutting off your words. Your hands rest on her lower back, grinning mischievously to yourself at the sight of her skin.

“You don’t feel like throwing up?” Sevika questions as she holds your thighs down with one of her forearms.

“Nuh-uh. ‘M lovin’ this view though,” you chuckle to yourself as you stare at her ass, blinking a bit to focus your vision.

Sevika shakes her head knowingly, smiling at your giggles the whole way up the stairs. She even felt your hands caressing her strip of skin that was exposed from her slightly cut-off t-shirt.

“You’re having fun down there?” She questions as she approaches your front door, reaching into her front pocket to pull out her keys.

You merely smack her ass to confirm her suspicions to which she lightly smacks your own with a: “Keep your hands to yourself.”

You twiddle with a loose string coming from the shirt as she carries you into your cool apartment, tossing her keys into the bowl near the front door. She kicks the door shut with her foot with a soft grunt, scaring you for a moment at the sudden movement.

“Baby, lock the door for me, please?” She asked you, scooting backward a few steps.

You lift your head, steadying yourself with one weak hand on her lower back as you reach for the three knobs. You twist each of them to the right with a soft click. Sevika kisses the side of your hip that is next to her face and thanks you before making her way down the hall to your shared bedroom.

“Sevi, I think I’m gonna throw up a little,” you warn her, hiccuping a bit.

Sevika’s eyes widen at your words as she carefully sets you down on your feet, holding your hips to lead you to the bathroom. You cover your mouth as you stumble to kneel next to the toilet, hunching over as you wait for the vomit to hit the water. Sevika quickly took her place next to you as she pushed back your falling strands of hair, gathering it in a ponytail in her fist.

“Let it out if you need to. It’s okay if you can’t,” she rubs your back with the other hand, wincing at your gagging.

You groan as you shake your head, eyes watering at the fact that it wasn’t coming up.

“It’s not– I can’t. I though’ I could, Sevi,” you frown up at her as you slump against the wall in front of the seat.

Sevika shushes you as she releases your hair and takes your hands into her larger ones, urging you to stand up.

“It’s okay. Let’s just get you to bed,” she instructs you gently.

You nod slowly, sniffling as you let her lead you back into the bedroom. You remember her carefully removing your ‘party clothes’ and putting one of her sleeping tees on you. She knew how much you adored them so at least you would have that to wake up to. She grabbed some of your micellar water and a rag to remove what was left of your makeup, holding your jaw in your hand as you kept trying to lay down once the comfier clothing was on.

After doing the usual night routine, you plopped down onto the mattress with a satisfied sigh as she snuggled your cheek into the pillowcase.

“Night, baby,” you hum as you smack your lips.

“Good night, my love,” she teases as she places a kiss on your cheek before rounding the bed to lie down on her side.

You pretty much passed out as soon as Sevika had lifted the covers over you two, mouth ajar and limbs awry.

You were never drinking again.

You thought as you carefully sat upright in your bed, squinting your eyes hard as the light from the morning sun was blinding you through your thin curtains. The headache and nausea hit you all at once as you covered your mouth, afraid of the bile that might escape. You wait a few seconds to make sure you aren’t actually going to throw up. Your eyes follow to your bedside table as you reach over to grab your phone, your movements slow as ever.

As you squint your eyes to focus on the screen, you see a few messages from Caitlyn and Mel; telling you they made it home and they were in fact not kidnapped. You then shift your eyes to the numbers at the top.

It was 9 o’clock in the morning; way too fucking early for the night you had.

You grunt as you gradually lay back down, wanting to stay still for the next three hours to not trigger the pounding headache to worsen. You peer over your bedroom door to see that it was left halfway open, the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway. Not to your surprise, it was Sevika with a small tray of food for you. You could hear her whisper a curse as she tried her hardest to not spill the coffee on it.

“Sevika?” You call out to her, your groggy and strained voice making your head hurt.

“You’re awake. Good morning,” Sevika tells you with a knowing and sympathetic smile.

You groan in response to her words, wanting to grab the pillow you were laying your head on and shield your face.

“I want to sleep,” you say right off the bat, frowning at her as you try to recollect the events of the previous night.

“I know, my love but can you eat this for me? You’ll feel better once you have food in you.”

Your girlfriend slowly sits herself down on the empty space next to you; her side of the bed. You knew she was right but you felt like you had to use so much energy just to sit upright, let alone eat.

And chew.

And drink.

It all sounded so… bothersome. But then you feel Sevika leaning over to press a few kisses onto your cheek and jaw, a hand rubbing up and down your arm that was out from under the comforter. You shut your eyes as you sigh at the feeling, wishing the kisses could push away your hangover.

“15 minutes,” she places one kiss on your jaw, “and then,” another to your nose, “you can sleep all day.”

You pretend as if you weren’t already set on eating as she continues to kiss as gently as possible every square inch of your face. Your smile grows as you force out a grumbled ‘fine’ as you steadily sit upright so that your back is resting on the headboard.

“You’re too good to me, Sev,” you tell her as you rub your tired eyes, yawning as she places the tray in your lap.

Sevika hums in agreement, playfully tapping underneath your chin with a hooked finger.

“Just eat. Then I’ll leave you alone, I promise.”

“No,” you reach for her hand, intertwining your fingers. “Never leave me alone.”

Sevika can’t help the smitten flush that covers her face as she takes your intertwined hands to kiss the back of yours.

“Never.”

You weakly smile at that before digging into your eggs, toast, fruit, and Tylenol with a long and collected sigh, enjoying the flavors of it all. You look down at your sleeping attire, feeling warm at the fact that it was Sevika’s.

Whether it was drunk, sober, or mind-numbingly hungover, she always took care of you.

TAGLIST: @eilishxo @nevergonna-give-u-up @archangeldyke-all @violynsb @lesbianpuppygirl @cutestdarkskin @moodient @starytree @capedyke @sameshoeally @lovinglynny @rurides @iluvwomensm

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Big Guy Big Belly

König is a big man, and with a big man comes a big appetite. We’re talking about a 6’10 man constantly maintaining his peak physique. He needs to be consuming as many calories and as much protein, carbs, fats, fiber and more to keep himself in fit and fighting shape.

At the canteen, he’s a nightmare. I bet that people rush to the cafeteria just to make sure they get something to eat before the big man on base rolls up. He’ll clear out the bins if he gets a chance. There’s a rumour on base that the reason König fought so hard to climb the ranks so quickly was just to be able to eat more and get away with it. Little do they know that they’re absolutely right, but König will never say that out loud. Ever. There’s some secrets you take to your grave. 

Either way, König is a menace in the canteen. He’ll pile his plate as high as he can when he gets a chance. He’s packing away all he can get in the shortest amount of time he can, and everyone has to suffer for it. The worst part is that everyone has to rush to get to the caf before König, and König knows exactly what others are doing, so he’s in a daily race against the entire base to eat his fill. It’s always a photo-finish to see who gets to the cafeteria first.  König currently has been slacking, so he’s not been eating like he normally has. Is he mad? Not really. He’ll clean out the snack cart later. 

He’s a monster late at night. Everyone knows that you need to leave the big man to his snacks, lest you face the wrath of the colossus on base. Well, wrath in a peculiar way. He just gets quiet and angry, but it’s still not a fun experience to try and fight him for a sandwich. If you take the last egg salad sandwich you’ll be at the top of his shit list for the next week. Don’t even think he won’t track you down. He’ll throw around his rank just to get his hands on the poor bastard. Nobody is safe, either.

Stiletto only once took the last pudding cup. Once. She never made that mistake again. For a week he was giving her dirty looks over a cold shoulder as he bumbled down the hall. She eventually had to give in and sacrifice a desert to be able to get back in his good graces. She still thinks he’s a massive bitch because of it. And you know what? She’s right. Everybody knows she’s right, König included, but he’ll keep going after whoever ‘steals’ ‘his’ snacks. They get along a bit better now that they’ve both advanced in rank and worked together, but there was a good period of time where Stiletto had to sleep with one eye open.

It gets a bit better for everyone when König finally finds a partner and doesn’t stay on base so often. Everyone takes a moment to pray for the poor soul who has to cook for König whenever he gets home from deployment.

See, during deployment, König can’t be such a massive bitch about food. He gets his rations, and that’s that. He can’t steal from anybody else, so he gets stuck with these pitiful MREs that barely fill him up. It’s miserable, and he’s losing weight like crazy when on the field. He’s running on fumes and burning calories like crazy as he’s risking his life out there. It’s gotten to a point where König has taken to eating with hostages post-rescue to ‘help them feel safer’ (read: get more food into his gullet). Thankfully, he puts his best foot forward when dealing with victims of trauma and ensures that he has somebody else do all the socializing while he plays with the kids after dinner. Apparently, after the inevitable shower of tears whenever kids have to face König, he becomes pretty popular. They love to use him as a jungle gym (and make fun of him) and he’s just happy to get more to eat. He’ll take being called ‘bigger than even my dad!’, being told ‘you’re weird’ or being asked ‘why are you so big and scary all the time?’ any day for a little extra to eat. He can tolerate a few kids. He won’t ever admit that hanging around them makes him want some kids of his own, or at least not to Horangi, who’s already teasing König about being a surrogate father to the kids. König tells him to keep it to himself, but Horangi is already buying things for the baby shower.

Once König finally comes home, that’s when all Hell breaks loose. This man has been starving and he needs food NOW. He won’t take no for an answer. If you don’t have something prepared, he’ll be ordering a massive order of takeout the likes of which you’ve never seen before in your life. He’ll hit multiple places on his way back to your place if he doesn’t think you’ve been able to get something together for him. If you can’t cook, he won’t even bother telling you to cook for him and just focus on getting a whole banquet of junk food ready for when he arrives home. He brings the pizzas in the door before he even brings in his own bags. You’ll have to go out and grab his bag as he sets up his personal buffet table. The worst part is despite how much he can shove down, he always buys more than he can eat, so you’ve got a couple of days worth of food to shove in the fridge at the end of the night.

If you can cook, this is a multi-day experience. Is it rewarding? Absolutely. Is it painful? Abso-fucking-lutely. He’s got you slaving for hours a day just to get him a nice home cooked meal. You’ll be going all out to get him a big enough meal. We’re thinking a tray of mac and cheese, a whole roast chicken, easily a handful of loaded baked potatoes. If you have something from your traditional cuisine, he’s not picky, he’ll gobble it up in a heartbeat. Knowing you made it for him is more than enough for him. Food is the way to a man’s heart, some say, and König will never let you go if you treat him like the king he is.

The good thing about cooking König such a big meal is that he gives back. He’s not a fan of cooking, but for the next few days he’ll take over cooking and cleaning in the kitchen. It’s just an easy way for him to give back, you know? He can’t thank you enough with words, so why not with actions?

But the best part of König giving back is that he’s an excellent cook. He cooks mostly traditional food from his culture, but he’s down for some french or italian cooking if you’re into it. He can make a mean lasagne. He does not skimp on the cheese, this man. No he’s a cheese fiend. If you’re lactose intolerant, you’ve got another thing coming for you. He will hand feed you lactaid just for the meal. If you have a dietary restriction, he’ll learn how to cook your types of meals in abundance. He’s perfect that way. Vegetarian, vegan, keto, no matter what, he’s got your back. He’s learned how to make an excellent spread for a dinner party, and part of learning to cater to others is to work around other people’s diets; his mother drilled that rule into his little head as a kid. He does it without complaint, too. For at least a week after coming home, he’s just so happy to be around food in abundance again. He’s absolutely thriving in the kitchen before the thrill wears off and he’s back to avoiding cooking like the plague again.

He loves to eat, but usually hates to cook. He’ll mostly eat takeout until he actually has to eat a nutritious meal again for a change. It’s not that cooking is awful, it’s just that he hates doing the dishes. He’d be far more inclined if he didn’t have to do the dishes afterwards. If you take over dishes, he’ll definitely step up his game for the both of you.

All in all, König loves to eat. He’s a big man with a bigger appetite, as hard as that is to believe. Once he retires he has to learn to cut back a fair bit, but he never loses his taste for sweets and snacks. It’s just something you’ll have to learn to live with.

[fallenprophets]

◦⭐︎・love lost

Ekko x reader

Summary: once a Firelight and Ekko's partner, you are now a mercenary, dragging yourself through jobs to make enough money to pay for food. After one too many drinks, you take a job you can't handle, and get hurt. It's no shocker who comes to your rescue.

Set at undefined time, no use of Y/N, gender neutral reader

Warnings: gore (not too bad but be mindful), swearing, mentions of death/welcoming death. 3.2 K words (oops), not proofread as always

A/N: icl guys this is one of the longer fics I've written, and definitely the angstiest one. Again, for my best friend, @sahxrii (go check out her recs, they're SO good) who I do everything for, lets be honest.

You have always prided yourself for knowing your limits; stopping when you need to stop, being reasonable about your own abilities. This has kept you out of quite a lot of trouble- avoiding fights you could not have won, not provoking people who were clearly able to whoop your ass. 

This, however, is very different, and not a common occurrence. 

First of all, you might be a little drunk- you’ve just had to numb the sting of your day with a drink, just a small one, in a tiny grimy bar run by a tall man with bright orange skin. Second of all, you’re running on two hours of sleep and painkillers (the painkillers are slowly wearing off, to make matters worse). 

And lastly, you’re in a really bad fucking mood. 

So, when your handler slides you a note with a name and address written in ugly red letters, you think fuck it, and take the job. You should’ve known this was stupid- you should’ve done what the sober, not exhausted version of yourself would have done. But instead, you accept with a bleary nod, because, to be frank, all you want at that moment is to break something. 

So you take the note, drain your drink, and leave the bar, shrugging on your worn coat. Adrenaline is already starting to buzz beneath your skin, your knuckles tingling softly in anticipation. You had never been this excited about violence when you were younger- in fact, people might have described you as gentle, even. But now, with all the things you have witnessed, all the people you’ve lost, hitting people brought a kind of release you could find nowhere else. 

Besides, there’s no one who remembers you as that gentle person left, anyway, so who are you disappointing? Yourself? You chuckle drily into the cold air, thick with gas. 

You stop in front of the building, your hands tucked into your pockets. It is big, red, and ugly (like the ink the name had been written in, you thought), bright colourful light shining from the broken windows. A Zaunite haunt, typical for a wannabe drug lord- the kind of man you were often hired to beat up or kill. You kick into the dirt at your feet, take a deep breath. You have hardly sobered up on the walk here, so your vision is still somewhat blurry, everything swimming around you like you’re underwater. 

Broken memories of swimming in an underground lake with him flitter through your mind, and you dismiss them, muttering a curse between your teeth. You roll your shoulders and make your way inside, striding in like you own the goddamn place. 

“You can’t be here,” a goon dressed all in black calls from the top of badly painted stairs. You look at him, an ugly grin splitting your face. 

“Kick me out, then,” you say, your heart already beginning to beat a little faster. 

Before you know, goons are coming at you from the sides, cracking their knuckles. The twat at the top of the stairs sneers down at you, his teeth oily and black. 

“You don’t wanna do this,” a woman on your left growls. She’s twice as big as you, her arms covered in bright red, winding tattoos. 

“I think I do,” you answer, raising your hands, which are already curled into fists. 

She lunges first, and you catch her with a right hook in the jaw. She hardly falters, but you drive your knee into her stomach. Now, she stumbles, and you leap up, narrowly avoiding an attack from another goon. You grab goon number one- the woman- and smash your forehead into her face. Her nose explodes, red and white flying all over you as she falls backwards. You spin and grab the nearest object- a stool- and bring it smack into the second goon’s middle. He collapses, and you walk over to him, drop the stool on his head. He stops moving. 

You turn to the giant of a woman, who is standing and looking at you with pure, unadulterated hatred. Her face is broken into bits, blood and spit dribbling down her chin. “Come on, then,” you say, cracking your already sore knuckles. 

She throws herself at you, twice as angry as before. You dodge, but she catches you in the shoulder. Excruciating pain shoots through you, and you realise too late that she has wicked little claw-like contraptions on her fingers. She comes at you again, slashing wildly. You jump out of the way, once again catching a claw in the face. It slices open your left cheek; pain explodes all through the area, but you grin. A challenge- you’ve always liked that. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind, a child’s voice screams at you to stop, to leave, to give up. The goon from the top of the stairs is gone. You falter when you notice this- he must be warning his boss, who is your target. You double your efforts, lunging at the woman. You manage to punch her in the stomach, but your second hit, aimed at her throat, is knocked out of the way as she drives her claws into your wrist. You scream, not really in pain but in sheer shock at the sharp metal slivers protruding from your skin. 

“Should’ve left,” she sneers into your face. You spit into the bloody mess that was her nose and wrench your arm back, kicking her, hard, in the sternum. She stumbled backwards and you pull your weapon- a machete, sheathed against your back- out, spinning it around. She assesses you for a moment, with what you realise now are robotic eyes. 

Oh. 

Oh, fuck. 

You are not fighting a person, you’re fighting a robot. Or something that’s half half- the blood spilling from her face gives you the idea that she might be made of flesh and bones, but those eyes- you’ve seen them before. She’s assessing your fight patterns, and she’s going to win. 

You duck out of the way of another attack, but she manages to graze your neck with her claws. You slash wildly with your machete, to no avail- she avoids each blow easily, and the ones that do hit, she ignores happily. 

Finally, one of your attacks hits- you aim the blow upwards, and the machete carves straight through her face. Blood, huge quantities of the stuff, gushes all over you, bone shattering under the power of your blow. You yank the machete out, momentarily stunned as she stumbles to her knees, eyes fizzing out. 

“Fuck,” you pant, stumbling backwards, “fuck you.” 

Your victory is short lived. More goons are coming down the stairs, armed to the teeth. You raise your weapon, ready to fight them all if it kills you, when you feel something strange. Your shirt has been sliced open- cold hair breezes around your stomach. You look down, and are somewhat horrified to find blood; your own blood. 

All at once, you feel nausea hit. You stumble to your knees, gasping for air. She got you- you feel the pain shooting through now. She managed to sink her dirty claws into your stomach as if you were made of mist and gas. 

Everything flickers in front of you as the last few days finally hit. You’re in so much pain, it’s almost incredible- had you been an author, you would have liked to write about this one day. It’s like your insides have been ripped out (they kind of have, you suppose) and set on fire, stomped on, pissed on- you almost laugh at the thought as your head hits the ground. 

You can’t remember when you fell. 

Your vision goes dark, flickering in and out. You see the goons approach you, pick you up unceremoniously. You are outside your body, floating somewhere beyond, watching through your eyes as they drag you outside. It is raining- you wish you could feel the raindrops on your face, one last time. 

You laughed, holding out a hand. It had been a while since you had experienced rain- in the Firelights hideout, you are protected by the huge leaves of the tree; and the Firelights hideout has everything (and everyone) you could wish for, so why would you ever go outside? 

But, after hearing you sigh softly and murmur something about the only thing you miss about your old home being the rain, Ekko made it his mission to bring it back. As soon as it rained again, he took you by the arm, promising a wonderful surprise. He offered to blindfold you, but you kindly refused when you saw that he intended to take you up the tree. You had climbed together, him guiding you gently upwards; and as you’d ascended, you had heard a beautiful, soft patter; a sound that made your heart beat speed up and your throat close. Finally, you had reached the top, and he had lifted the leaves to reveal a little area above the canopy, partly shielded from the rain with a makeshift structure made of leaves and cloth. 

Now, you sat in this structure, your side flush against his, a hand held out to the pouring rain.  

“Do you like it?” He asked softly, looking at you. 

“Do I like it?” You cried, almost incredulous. “Yes, Ekko, I love it!” You turned to him, grinning so widely it almost hurt. “Thank you,” you added after a moment. “Thank you so much, Ekko.” He smiled too, and you took his face in your hands and kissed him, and Gods knew you’d never been happier. 

You’re lying in an alleyway. It’s like you can physically feel the blood leaking from you, your life draining from the gash in your stomach and the holes in your arm. The goons have left, convinced you are dead- why didn’t they check your pulse, stupid bastards? 

It has stopped raining, but you’re soaked to the bone, lying there in the dark. Someone has stolen your jacket and your machete. 

You groaned as you lifted the jacket up to the light. A bright fabric, the colour of the sunset, now stained with dark greenish grey goo. You should have known that wearing your favourite jacket down into the mines was a stupid idea, but you’d done it anyway. 

“Stupid,” you mumbled to yourself, dropping the jacket into a heap on the floor. You wondered briefly if it was salvageable, but deep down knew it wasn’t. You’d have to find a new one, which would be nowhere near as nice. 

Someone knocked on your door, and a soft voice spoke your name. 

“Come in,” you called, still staring sadly at your jacket. 

Ekko stepped inside, his presence like warm sunlight. Despite the grief caused by the ruined jacket, you smile, turning to him instantly relaxing as he wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“I hear your jacket got ruined,” he said softly. 

“Yeah,” you muttered in response. “Upsetting.” He laughed. “I have something for you.” You pulled away, moving your hands to his biceps and looking at him. “What, Ekko?” You already knew what he was going to show you, but it warmed your heart all the same. 

“It’s not exactly the same colour,” he said apologetically, “but-“ 

You put a hand over his mouth, beaming. “I don’t care,” you said. 

He smiled back at you, releasing you to pull something out of his bag. It was neatly folded, but he held it out to you. You shook it out, and found a jacket, almost identical to the one that you had just ruined; it was a slightly lighter shade of orange, and the pattern on the back was a tree instead of the flowers you’d had on your last one. 

“You’re insane,” you said, in awe. You put the jacket on- it was a little too big, but who gave a shit? It was your jacket, gifted to you by your boy. 

You blink back into consciousness, and almost screamed. The pain coursing through you is like nothing you’d ever imagined; like being electrocuted and burned and drowned all at the same time. Despite the gaping hole in you, you want to curl up, to shield yourself from the wet and cold and pain. 

“Please,” you whimper into the ground, “please, no.” 

It’s not that you don’t want to die. In fact, you welcome death- you see it as a release more than anything else, from the bullshit life you lead. But dying here, like this- 

You start to cry, and you gag and retch as tears spill mercilessly. 

You are about to give in- you have given in- when a bright light seems to fill your vision. It is green and orange and yellow and pink and warm and fills everything around you. For a moment you think you’ve died, and this is some kind deity welcoming you into the next life, whispering I forgive you don’t worry as it carries you away. But no, the truth is much harsher than that. 

A face hovers into your field of vision, and warm hands tug your shirt upwards. You want to protest, but your throat is dry from all the retching and sobbing you’ve been doing. A cloth presses down into the wound in your stomach and you howl, eyes rolling back in your head as the pain grabs you by the throat and fucking throttles you. 

“Stop,” you manage to whimper. “Why- why are you doing this?” Your voice is hoarse, you’re crying again as you try to shut out the pain. 

You hear shouting- words like help and home and quick- and black out again. 

When you come to, you are no longer lying wet and dying in an alleyway miles from home (where even is home anymore? It’s just you, and that orange jacket, which you don’t even have anymore). 

Your surroundings slowly swim into focus (swimming, your brain sings, swimming in an underwater cave, hands on your waist, kisses all over). You are lying down, mercifully dry and warm. Pain pumps through you in waves, mostly coming from your wrist and your stomach. You wonder, again, if this is some afterlife- if so, it is far less cruel than your parents described. 

But then, you turn your head, and pain sears through you. 

But that is not what makes you cry. 

He lifts his head instantly as he hears your quiet sobs, and he’s at your side, a hand carefully gripping yours (he’s avoiding the bloody bandage wrapped around your wrist, you realise), the other gently brushing soft fingers over your bruised face. “It’s okay,” he says, even though you think he doesn’t mean it. It’s not okay- you ran away, got yourself beat up, almost killed, and he’s had to rescue you. Of course it’s not okay.

“Ekko,” you whimper. 

“It’s okay,” he repeats, stroking your hair away from his face. Instinctively, you curl away, wanting to hide your injury from him. He shakes his head, his eyes brimming with tears (or maybe you’re delusional, because who would cry over you?) 

“I-“ Your words are lost in a pathetic sob, and you turn your face away from him. 

“Don’t,” he says. A pause. “How are you feeling?” 

You croak out what should’ve been fuck but instead comes out as a bad imitation . You would’ve laughed, in any other situation. 

“What happened?” His voice is so soft, so kind, it makes you want to rip your eyeballs out and stuff them into your ears. 

You shake your head. You don’t want him to know what you’ve been up to since you left the Firelights. 

He lets go of your hand, and for a moment you think he’s leaving you. It wouldn’t surprise you, to be honest. But no, he doesn’t leave you. Instead, he leans over, inspects the bandages wrapped around your midsection. Your mind instantly flashes to him prodding it, digging his fingers into your wound and calling you names. You wouldn’t blame him. 

“You’re an idiot,” he says finally, still glaring at your bandaged stomach. 

“Excuse me?” That is the first full statement you manage to force past your shredded throat. 

“You’re an idiot,” he repeats with just as much gusto. “I mean, how could you just go and do this?” He gestures at your injuries. 

“I didn’t-“ 

“What, think? Yeah, I can tell.” His face is partly obscured, so you can’t tell what face he’s making. 

“I-“ 

“You’re so stupid. I mean, did you really think you could survive taking on all of the goons in that building?” He snorts to himself. “At least tell me the pay was worth it.” 

You’re somewhat incredulous. All the time you’ve known Ekko, he’s never been this outright mean to you. 

“What-“ you sputter, unable to find the words. 

“Did you not think for a moment that you might get killed?” He puts extra emphasis on the word killed, and it’s like a punch in the gut. When he turns his gaze onto you, you think you’d prefer to have the goons rip you apart than see him look at you like this ever again. 

“I’m sorry,” you manage to say through a fresh tightening in your throat. Your eyes sting and you’re about to turn away when you see his expression. 

He’s smiling. 

“What?” You almost choke out. “What is it?” 

His smile is the softest thing you’ve ever seen. It’s the sunlight, shining through the leaves of the tree; it’s the rain gently pattering on the roof of your childhood home. It’s the smell of old books and wood. 

It’s so painfully home. 

Your eyes sting, and you turn your face away from him, swallowing the bile rising in your throat. He still smiles at you like that, after everything you’ve done. 

He takes your hand again, his other beginning to gently trace patterns on the bandage on your stomach. It’s such a soft, kind gesture. He used to do that, you remember with a pang, when you two would lie in bed together: draw little patterns on your back with his fingers, when he thought you were asleep. 

“It’s okay,” he says, and for the first time, you wholeheartedly believe him. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, because those are the only words your throat will allow out. “I am.” 

“I know,” he murmurs. He hesitates, then leans forwards, kissing your forehead gently. “Just…” he trails off, his gaze now focused back on your bruised face. “Don’t do that again.” 

You promise him. Not with words, but with the feeling in your chest, the loosening of your lungs and throat as you watch him watch you. You promise him with the way your knuckles have stopped aching for more skin to break, with the way your eyes water again. 

You promise him with all that you have, because that is the least you can do for him. 

“I love you,” you mumble, almost sheepishly. 

“I love you too,” he answers; there is no hesitation, no layered but only if… behind the words. He says it back with the same confidence he gives orders, the words more of a declaration than softly spoken pretty things. 

“I’m sorry,” you add, after a few moments of just watching him breathe. 

“I love you,” is his answer. 

You shut your eyes, and he squeezes your hand. 

[loganhowlettshousewife]

something something dark!logan who puts reader in dangerous situations so he can save her and then convince her that no one is safe and he’s the only one she can trust. is it bad that i find the thought of logan baby trapping me hot?

(this is not proofread, i wrote this in like 30 minutes)

-

the first time he sees you, something primal unlocks in him. you’re suddenly the only thing he can think about, your sweet smile taking over his dreams. he wants you in a way he’s never wanted anything before, willing to do anything you ask of him, willing to kill anyone who so much as looks at you the wrong way.

every time he sees your smile drop he’s filled with a murderous rage. 

but when he’s around you, the world slows down. there’s only you and him and the tension between you. your friends tell you that he’s dangerous, he’s angry and drunk all the time, but you just stare at them in confusion because he’s never so much as raised his voice at you.

so you wave off your friends worries, telling them that he’s an absolute sweetheart and maybe he just has a bad reputation, but you know him.

he invites you to go to a bar with him and you agree enthusiastically. you love spending time with him, and this is sounding almost like a date. you get all dolled-up for him, hopeful that something in your relationship will shift tonight. 

you agreed to meet at the bar, so you wait outside the building for logan, bouncing on the balls of your feet. that’s when a man approaches you, big and burly and asking what you’re doing all dressed up and alone. he drags you into the alley beside the bar, but before anything can happen, the man is being thrown into the wall.

logan stabs the guy in the chest with his claws, letting the blood run down his hand. because while he was the one who paid the guy to do this to you, he still couldn’t stand the sight of another man’s hands on you. so he brings his fist down again, claws puncturing the man’s lungs. and again and again and again, until you have to pull him off the bloody corpse.

the minute his eyes meet yours, it's like he becomes a completely new person. he drives you home, a hand on your thigh. he holds you close when you cry in his arms, whispering that he’s so sorry he wasn’t there to protect you, that he should have offered to drive you, that he should have known someone would try to hurt you, because you’re beautiful and pure and the world is a wretched place that wants to destroy souls like yours.

you start dating and logan becomes even more protective and jealous. now that he knows what it's like to have you, he’ll do anything to keep you.

so he stages dangerous situations, manipulates you into falling right into the traps he’s laid out, and every time he comes to rescue you. he’s the hero of your story, and you tell him that, laying with your head on his chest one night.

but he still doesn’t feel like it's enough. the animal in him longs to call you his, to claim you permanently. to mate with you, to breed you. 

so he convinces you to move in with him, something that’s pretty easy after he hires someone to break into your apartment. he observes your routines, memorises your little daily schedules, and when you’re in the shower he switches out your birth control pills for placebo ones.

when he fucks you it’s hard and rough. it’s the only time he lets himself be something other than gentle with you, because he knows how much you love it, can smell your arousal growing with every thrust, can feel how wet you are around him. you cry out his name, grasping desperately at his arms, shoulders, back, anywhere you can reach really, for some sort of support.

you’re so out of it that you don’t notice when he cums deep inside you instead of pulling out like you’d asked. he keeps fucking his cum into you, pushing it deeper. when the afterglow of your orgasm fades and you feel his cum leaking out of you, you freak out, pushing him off you.

but he asks, “aren’t you on birth control?” and after a long conversation he convinces you that it’ll be fine, that’s what birth control is for, and besides, doesn’t it feel better raw? don’t you love the feeling of his thick cum shooting inside you, coating your insides, claiming you?

you’re terrified when you find out you're pregnant, and logan acts just as shocked, as if he couldn’t smell when you were ovulating and hadn’t planned to breed you as many times as he could during that period to make sure it stuck. 

he tells you that no matter what he’ll be by your side, that he’s never really thought about settling down and being a family man but that he’s never felt for anyone what he feels for you, and the thought of having a child with you, someone that’s half your dna and half his, your love for each other in a physical form, sounds wonderful.

and then one day, after your daughter is born, as you’re watching logan holding her in his large arms, you admit that you knew he was borderline stalking you before you two started dating, and you knew after the third time that the men attacking you were being hired to do so, and you knew when he switched out your birth control.

and you confess to him that no one’s ever really loved you the way logan does, completely and unconditionally, and even if logan’s a little unhinged and obsessive about making sure you won’t leave him, you appreciate that quality. because he wouldn’t go through all that effort and all that trouble if he didn’t care about you.

logan, who thought it was impossible to love you any more than he already did, feels himself fall in love all over again at that confession.

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

hc for adrian having a girlfriend or s/o prior to his mother's death. they're human and maybe her apprentince or something. and the church takes her too, but before they can burn her at the stake, dracula shows up and rescues her because he knows lisa was fond of her. during adrians and draculas fight maybe she interbenes at a critical moments so drac doesnt kill him and alucard gets away but she's now a prisoner of dracula w/n his castle. and maybe she befriends the generals?

A/N: Aw, man. Sometimes I wonder if Lisa did have an apprentice, that maybe Dracula wouldn’t be as anti-human as he ended up being, or if she could start to turn him to see the error of his ways sometime before Alucard and Dracula end up in Adrian’s childhood bedroom. 

Apologies for the delays in updates. But my brain went WILD with this request so it’s a long one, I hope that makes up for the less frequent posting. Anyway, I hope you enjoy these somewhat bittersweet (then depressing then bittersweet again) headcanons! (Also this is unbeta-ed and prob grammatically messy as hell, so read at your own expense lol.) 

Word Count: 6.2k 

TW: Canon Typical Descriptions of Graphic Violence; Brief Mentions of Sexual Violence; Canon Death; Descriptions of Torture (the church is high-key fucked up here)  

Adrian W/ A Human S/O Reader (Who’s Also Lisa’s Apprentice, Prior to Her Death):   

━━━━━ ❂ ━━━━━   

The Beginning:   

Okay, so let’s get one thing straight… FIRST OF ALL, Lisa would adore you!!! Like, you make her baby boy happy and you’re smart??? What else is there to it? And then to top it all off, you’re super sweet and kind and interested in learning about medicine and the world around you!   

Lisa meets you once over dinner and she’s already planning the wedding in her head.   

Adrian is smitten, because of course he is, but in an adorable, somewhat restrained way. He doesn't have a lot (ahem, ANY) experience in this department, so he’s hesitant to take things forward with you, mainly because he doesn’t want to scare you off or make you suspicious about what he is. (It’s hard to make out with someone when you have two big vampire fangs in the front.)   

Adrian is young, like you. So, on top of all the complications, he feels no need to rush things. Sure, he’s heard a few whispers here and there about Dracula having a son, a son who according to rumors and gossiping villagers is to rise as the antithesis of Dracula. It’s all silly superstition, but it does stay fixed in the back of his mind. What would this future legacy mean for his relationship with you? And, should it ever come to pass, would you even be a part of it?   

That’s neither here nor there though, and in the meantime, the two of you simply enjoy the talking phase. You get to learn more about each other's interests, and beliefs, but mostly, you spend time in proximity to one another— you remain busy attending to his mother, learning all you can about healing while he, just a table over, spends his time rereading one of his many favorite tomes.   

I honestly don’t see you meeting Dracula until you and Adrian are like a fully committed couple. I’m pretty sure you would have to have been Lisa’s apprentice for a while and/or lived with the Tepes in their Lupu cottage for months before Lisa finally breaks through Dracula’s protests and makes him officially meet you.   

I don’t think that meeting would happen in Lupu either. No, I imagine it would have to take place at Dracula’s castle, just in case you were to freak out, you’d have no way of escaping and telling any others.   

I can almost see your reaction being similar to Lisa’s upon first entering the castle, especially if Adrian is already at your side. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Dracula is terrifying, but there’s also a giant telescope in the next room calling your name so….   

Much to Adrian’s relief, this newfound information doesn’t make you frightened of him at all, if anything, it simply reignites your fascination with him. You throw rapid-fire questions at him: If he's part vampire, how come you’ve seen him eating human food? Does he need both food and blood to satisfy each of his halves? If he needs blood, he could take some of yours you know…   

Your penchant for learning softens Dracula a little. For a brief time, he wonders if, perhaps, it was as Lisa said, that the humans could change, that humanity was changing for the better.   

He sits across from you at their grand dinner table, watching you intensely as you and Adrian talk about the recent literature you’ve read. You’d no doubt feel Dracula’s all-powerful gaze on you, making you turn to him and… Wait, did you just smile?!   

You’ve got guts, Dracula will give you that.   

Knowing the family secret, you can’t exactly break up with Adrian, nor do you have any desire to. I wonder if Dracula would have rings made for the two of you, maybe commission a new family portrait or two.   

You stay with Lisa in Lupu during Dracula's travels. Adrian is around, although he's always off between the castle and their cottage, so you never feel entirely alone or vulnerable. Your life is perfect! It’s better than you could have ever imagined!   

That is, until…   

━━━━━ ● ━━━━━   

The During:   

When the Church comes to take Lisa, you beg them to see reason. You cry and scream, hell, you even try to fight your way out at one point, only for both you and Dr. Tepes to be overpowered by the Church’s henchman.   

The two of you are taken, violently, to Targoviste, where you’re thrown into dark, damp cells with little to no light. Freezing, you huddle together for warmth, each trying your best to reassure the other, that all will turn out well. Adrian was still around, right? He’ll have to come home to find you missing, he’ll come and rescue you. And Dracula was due to return soon, correct? Surely, they’ll come. Surely, they’ll stop this madness.   

It’s a few days later, after hours of interrogation and brutal torture that you realize with a heavy heart, that no one is coming to rescue you. And what’s worse, that these so-called men of the cloth cannot and will not listen to reason. You’re starved and beaten, your hair is sliced off so close to your skin, that they take bits of your scalp with it in some places. And despite initially being imprisoned with Lisa, you find yourself being separated from her for longer periods.   

The men try everything to get you to turn on her. They tell you if you recant her wicked ways now, say she used her evil magic to trick you, your sentencing will be easier. You could still live— they dangle betrayal in front of you as a last lifeline. You don’t take it of course. You love Mrs. Tepes, and you know she’s no witch. You muster what little might you have left, spitting at the men as you tell them to go to hell. You swear she’s innocent, that she knows nothing. Hell, at one point, you find yourself confessing to having manipulated her! You don’t think they buy it though, if the poor doctor’s screams from down the hall are anything to go by.   

The night they light the pyre, the night of Lisa’s murder, you’re sick on more than one occasion. You scream your throat raw, begging them to burn you first! That she was innocent! That you corrupted her! That it was all your doing! But to no avail.   

In a scene that could only rival the Crucifixion of Christ himself, you look up through tear-soaked eyes to see Lisa, enshrouded in flames, begging Dracula to show mercy on her killers, to forgive them, that they know not what they do. “I know it's not your fault,” she cries out, “But, if you can hear me, they don't know what they're doing! Be better than them. Please!”   

You sob and wail, watching as your would-be mother-in-law is burned alive. You scream out for someone, anyone! To please help you, save you! With Lisa’s last words echoing in your mind, you can’t help but fear Adrian’s and his Father’s reactions, should they find you both killed.

Oh, gods…   

You don’t know what makes you feel sicker… The barbaric display you’re witnessing now or the hypothetical one that threatens to wipe out all living people in Wallachia once Dracula learns of what’s happened. You need not wait long for an answer.   

In a fury of fire and grandeur, Dracula’s head appears, molded in flame, demanding to know what has happened to his wife. You cry out to him, apologizing profusely, saying you begged them to burn you first! You scream out how they refused to see reason, they killed her for helping! Injudiciously, in your indignant anger, you plead with Dracula to release his fury on the priests who did this, to send them to hell to be tortured for eternity for this unforgivable transgression!   

With the silent fury of a gathering storm, Dracula’s fiery visage speaks calmly as his anger grows concertedly less. "I give you one year Wallachians,” he finally decides. “You have one year to make your peace and remove any marks you have made upon the land. One year, and I'll wipe all human life from the land of Wallachia. You took that which I love, so I will take from you everything you have and everything you have ever been. One year."   

No sooner than he spits out the words, a coil of fire bursts from his image, winding itself around your body. The guards surrounding you gasp and flee, avoiding the coil’s tail as it whips back and forth, hoisting you into the air.   

The fiery coil burns your skin, and the smell of even more burnt flesh makes you gag. If you had any bile left over at all, you’re certain it’d come up yet again. The pain is like a thousand stinging nettles and boiling water constricting your arms and midriff all at once. Your vision grows blurry as you feel your body move through the air, your nostrils taking in one last wretched breath of sulfur and smoke.   

━━━━━ ◉ ━━━━━   

The After — Part One:   

When you awake you find yourself laid, practically bare, a heap on the floor within Dracula’s castle— the evil Lord himself only feet away, raging over his magic well— as shards of his magic mirror whip around him at incredible speeds. Your head is pounding, it feels as if it might explode, and your arms… Fuck.   

Where the supernatural coil grabbed you, your skin was red and raw, small pockets of blisters already beginning to form. Your arms tremble uncontrollably as you try to move them, the pain that’s consuming your nerves is far too intense to hold them steady as you sit up into an upright position.   

It doesn’t feel real; nothing feels real. It feels like a nightmare. It had all been perfect, everything was perfect— you all were happy! How did it turn into such horror so fast?   

Shakily, you rise to your feet and clutch the remains of your clothes to your chest in an attempt to preserve your modesty, although it’s more of a subconscious act on your part. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion, yourself included. It’s like the air is heavier here somehow, its weight filling your lungs and weighing you down.   

A loud noise shocks you back to the present, nearly making you stumble over in fright. At least you would have, had Adrian not used his superspeed to catch you before you fell. One of his gloved hands grasps your left arm directly over the burn, causing you to let out a hiss. His rectangular eyes look wider than you’ve ever seen as he releases his grip, looking over your battered form.   

“(Y/N) ...” Adrian says, his voice serious and quiet, barely a whisper.   

You shake your head furiously, unable to trust your ability to speak without breaking. Upon Adrian’s gentle insistence, you feel your mouth opening, and the words slipping out, scraping against the back of your reddened throat as they exit your frail body.   

“They killed her, Adrian…” you whisper, your voice quivering. “I, we tried to stop them, they just wouldn’t listen!” Somehow, your eyes begin to water again, despite your earlier certainty that your body had no water nor tears left in it at all.   

“Once she realized they wouldn't listen to reason, she lied and told them I was innocent. She told them she had manipulated me, that I was just a child, that I didn’t know what I was doing, that she never got the chance to teach me!” A feeling of guilt consumes you as you speak the words aloud, and soon enough, your body is once again plagued by uncontrollable sobs.   

Adrian listens intently to your words, his brows furrowed. You watch through teary eyes as a range of emotions flash across his face: anger, hurt, pain, sorrow, and finally… acceptance. Your beloved hardens his gaze, choking down whatever grief he may be feeling. At the present, Adrian knows, there are more pressing matters at hand.   

You follow Adrian’s steely gaze back, seeing his Father where he is bent over his summoning circle, cursing in a language that is foreign to you before he switches back to Romanian.   

“One year! It will take me one year to summon an army from the guts of Hell itself!” Dracula proclaims, promising to enact vengeance for the death of his love.   

“No.” Adrian counters, slipping out of your grasp.   

“Adrian,” you whisper, warningly. “Don’t—”   

“What do you mean, ‘no’? That woman was the only reason on Earth for me to tolerate human life!”  Dracula retaliates, enraged his son could even conceive of such lenience.   

“Then find the one who did the deed,” Alucard proposes. “If you set loose an army of the night on Wallachia, you cannot undo it, and many thousands of people just as innocent as her will suffer and die.”   

“There are no innocents! Not anymore! Any one of them could have stood up and said, ‘No, we won't behave like animals anymore.’"   

“(Y/N) did.” Adrian points out. “She tried to take all the blame, in an attempt to save Mother’s life.”   

Dracula looks over at you with blood-red eyes, contempt clear on his face. “And yet,” he snarls, “Here she stands, and my Wife, your Mother does not!” He hisses the last word, livid that out of the two of you, you were the one who survived.   

With large, fearful eyes, you watch as Adrian closes the gap between him and his Father.   

“I won't let you do it. I grieve with you, but I won't let you commit genocide.”   

“Adrian,” you warn again.   

The next bit happened all so quickly.   

Faster than you could blink, you watch, helpless, frozen in horror as Adrian charges his father, his longsword drawn. Despite their vampiric speed being unrecognizable to the untrained human eye, you swear you watch the scene unfold in slow motion. Adrian charges first, but Dracula, roaring in a fit of rage, counters faster— his Father’s elongated claws slash diagonally across Adrian’s chest, before his fist pauses, still embedded deep within your lover’s gut.   

You don’t have time to think before you act. To you, Adrian has the abilities of a god, but to his Father… It was clear there’d be no match. You have no clue how you got your hands on it, no idea as to how you even managed a successful hit, but the next thing you know, a triangular shard of magic mirror is impaled in Great Lord Dracula’s back, put there by your very hand.   

Too terrified to even breathe, the only sound you can hear beyond your racing pulse is a wet, gory squelch as Dracula retracts his claws from Adrian’s body. You hear the spray of blood before you see it, a rush of bright red blood gushes onto the marble floor between Dracula and his son.   

Standing at his impressive full height, Dracula turns ever so slowly, ever so menacingly, to face you. His pupils are that of a blood moon, his sclera so bloodshot they practically look as black as night. In that second, you know you’ve fucked up.   

You cower as Dracula raises one hand to you, instinctively shielding your neck from his nasty bloodied talons. With surprisingly repressed strength, Dracula backhands you, the force sending you flying backward, smashing into the base of one of the curved bookshelves lining the walls of his summoning room.   

With his focus still on you, Dracula stalks toward you. Knowing it’s now or never, you scream at Adrian to flee. “Run!” The words rip out of your raw throat, sounding like an eleventh commandment.   

You see Adrian, previously stunned by his Father’s disregard for his life, holding together the gaping wound across his chest. He has no time to even spare you, his beloved, a last look before evaporating into clouds, his cloud of bloodied mist bolting for the door, fleeing as fast as his injured state would allow him.   

Dracula only turns to watch as his son, his very possibly fatally wounded son, flees the confines of his castle. For a moment it is silent— only the sound of both yours and Dracula’s heaving breaths echo across the chamber.   

Clenching his clawed fingers into a fist, Dracula says nothing as he too makes his way to the castle doors, leaving your bruised and broken body alone in the dark.   

━━━━━ ❍ ━━━━━   

The After — Part Two:   

Somehow, Christ only knows, you find your way to one of Lisa’s old labs and do a half-assed job of patching yourself up. You find your burns and dislocated shoulder to be the most painful of injuries.    

Thankfully, Lisa had taught you enough about setting a patient’s shoulder that you managed to smash it into an adjacent wall, popping your joint back in yourself. The burns you wrap in honey and milk-soaked linen gauze, wincing every time the bandages brush against your skin. It’s awful work, slow work too, but you must have managed it alright because you find yourself patched up and passed out in one of the castle’s kitchens a few hours (or days? had it been days?) after that.   

You eat raw vegetables and berries�� nothing that requires cooking. Lord knows you couldn't prepare anything successfully now even if you were to try. Eating your foraged meal in silence you debate your next steps. Do you go back home? Would your family even welcome you home after your long and unexplained absence? And if they, along with all the humans in Wallachia were ultimately to be driven from the land, did it matter anyway?   

‘Oh god,’ you think. You have to warn them, have to make them flee before a year is up. But where would you go? Where could you go? Greater Styria was a possibility, although it was not by any means an easy journey, and the climate there was much colder than your folks were used to here. You shakily rise to your feet and set out to find a map within one of the Castle’s many libraries.   

After a good night’s rest, you find your mindset with a newfound determination: you will go home. You were going to get your family on the move and then… Then, you’d come back here.   

You knew, in all likelihood, that returning to Dracula’s castle after the fact entailed certain death. But you also knew, things would get worse if he were to be left alone.   

Dracula may not have ever loved you for a daughter-in-law. Hell, he may not have ever loved anyone aside from Mrs. Tepes, but you promised her while huddling together that first night in those dingy cells that no matter what happened, should either of you get out alive, you would not leave Adrian and Vlad. “They need humans, (Y/N),” Lisa coughed into your ear. “And most importantly, humanity needs them.”   

Dracula would resent your company, he would want to be rid of you. But you could not be rid of him, not after what Lisa had asked of you.   

‘Besides,’ you thought, ‘Nobody should have to grieve alone.’   

The journey back home to your parents is majorly uneventful. Sure, it was touch and go for a while, your body was exhausted after the ordeal you endured, and your wounds had gotten infected once or twice. Thankfully, you had the mind to pack with you any potential treatments you might need.   

It felt good to be home, to be amongst family again. You couldn’t stop crying and hugging everyone when you first arrived. You kept the details to a minimum but made it clear they needed to be the hell out of Wallachia before a year. You told them you had found an apprenticeship, that the woman was kind to you, but while in Targoviste, you saw the burning of a witch, and soon after the face of Satan himself appeared in flames, threatening the crowd. It caused a panic, you see, and you had gotten trampled in the process.   

You didn’t bother to explain that the woman you were learning under was this so-called witch and that this Satanic figure was her husband. Nor did you tell them of your half-inhuman partner. You knew had you told the family the whole truth, they might have cast you out as a devil worshiper and a liar and choose not to heed your words.   

Your warnings spread through your extended family like how ivy creeps up a stone wall. A fair part of your relatives in the country believed you enough to agree to uproot their lives and settle outside of Wallachia: some settled on Syria, others had decided on Greece, Egypt, or Rome. The more skeptical ones who hemmed and hawed over the validity of your claims agreed to move into the countryside, a decent distance from any major Wallachian city or village.   

When you were certain they’d heed your words, you told them you could not stay with them, your Mother wept for three straight days and your Father could do little to console her. As much as it broke your family’s heart, you knew that your need to return to Castlevania was larger than yours. You weren't just doing it for your family, you were doing it for every family across the land. You couldn't be selfish. Mrs. Tepes was the most selfless woman you had met, and she taught you well. If you meant what you said to her when you first met, that you wanted to help people, you would need to buck up and accept the consequences of that.   

Your journey back to the castle was much more melancholy than your journey home. You could almost feel the whispers of the tortured souls Dracula had slain before blowing cold air into your ears, begging you to turn back. Nevertheless, you continued. You entered Castlevania to find you were alone, however, that would not be the case for long.   

Months later you had fallen into somewhat of a predictable routine within the castle and its new occupants. Dracula had recruited two humans to serve as his war planners— men by the names of Hector and Isaac, respectively. You appreciate the levity Hector, and his undead pets bring, and you admire the intelligence and loyalty Isaac has. You just wish they weren’t going along with Dracula’s plan.   

You tread carefully as you find the time to express to each of his Generals that you wish they wouldn’t go through with this plan. You explain humans are not the kind of species to give in to subjugation, they will revolt eventually. You suggest the vampires come up with some sort of tit-for-tat system with the humans instead like, for example, promised blood servants would equal vampiric protection for that territory.  

It’s safe to say no one is impressed with your centrist ideals, so eventually stop taking part in the conversation. You silently hang around Hector, and just listen with a sorrowful expression, satisfied with knowing that if you can’t change the Generals' minds, you can, at the very least, make them somewhat uncomfortable.  

When Carmilla arrives, you’re immediately put off by her little display of insolence. Unlike yours, her dissent doesn’t seem to come from a place of concern. You make a mental note to keep an eye on her.  

It’s during the General's next argument that you receive a ray of hope: “We are quite certain that Alucard sleeps at Gresit.”  

You feel your body grow lighter.  

“So, that means,” you speak aloud to yourself more so to anyone else, “Adrian is alive?”  

You’re met with a handful of annoyed glares from the other vampires as Isaac continues: “And that there was recently a Belmont there.”  

Upon hearing Carmilla berate the others for not sending night creatures to the ancestral Belmont home, your smile falls and your improved mood falters. These Belmonts were famous monster hunters, famous enough to frighten your current vampire company. That means, if there was a Belmont in Gresit, at the same time as Adrian, as Alucard, whatever the hell he’s going by these days, it could prove disastrous for your love. For all you know, he’s still recovering from the wounds dealt to him by his Father. And if this Belmont, this monster hunter strikes first and asks questions later, he may accidentally kill the only living vampire in existence who stands against the very nature of this war.  

‘How ironic,’ you think solemnly. Just as fast as the universe gives you hope, it rips it away once more.  

You excuse yourself, and make your way towards Hector’s forge, aiming to distract your distraught mind with some cute reanimated pets.  

Shortly thereafter, Hector joins you. He asks if you truly did not know Dracula’s son was still alive. You shake your head ‘no’, telling him how you had prayed every past night to any God who would listen, that they would send their holy armies and angels to guard him, but no, you had mostly just feared he was dead.  

You spend the rest of the night talking to Hector about Alucard, Adrian as you knew him. How smart he was, how much the two of you used to laugh, and how much he looked just like his Mother.  

“Perhaps that’s why,” Hector supposes, “Dracula could no longer bear to see him.”  

You say perchance he’s right, conveniently leaving out the part where the Father and Son duo almost fought to the death right in front of you.  

The conversation with Hector reignites something within you. You feel as if you had been praying all this time for an answer, and this was it. Alucard was alive, and so was Belmont. You understand now what needs to be done.  

Your lover must once again fight his Father, and this time, he must win.  

Your silent observations allow you to learn of Carmilla’s scheme fairly early on, as well as Godbrand’s demise at the hands of Isaac, yet all that time, you say nothing. You keep your mouth shut and your eyes down. If Carmilla divides Dracula’s army and court, she will inevitably make it easier for Alucard and Belmont to destroy him.  

The Generals, and even Dracula himself, believe you are mourning the loss of your love for the second time, as his demise will be inevitable the moment he meets his Father and his armies— or at least, that’s what they assume.  

When Carmilla has Hector send special night creatures to the remains of the Belmont home, you attach a letter around one of the creature's necks, hoping your love will notice it, and if he doesn’t, you pray he instinctively outwits the traps that await for him within his Father’s castle.  

━━━━━ ❂ ━━━━━   

Beginning Again:   

The night Dracula chooses to move the Castle to Braila, you manage to speak with him one last time.  

You bring him some tea, even though you know he won’t drink it, and you tell him, for what must be the hundredth time, how sorry you are about all that’s happened. You apologize for not being able to do more to save his wife. You tell him that if you could do it all over again if you were given a choice between who they should burn first, you’d demand it be you.  

Dracula turns away from the fire to look at you upon hearing those words.  

“She was fond of you, you know.” He says, sounding far away as if lost in a distant memory. “She was overjoyed at the thought of gaining a daughter”  

You nodded along a hurt smile on your face. “It was my honor.” Gathering your courage you continued: “Even though it didn’t work out, I want you to know I loved your wife very much… And,” you kept going. “I love your son very much.”  

Dracula said nothing. He simply turned his attention back to the flames within his study’s fireplace.  

“It’s not too late, you know,” you prod gently. “If Adrian is alive, he could still come back, we could still be a family-”  

“No!” Dracula’s low growl sent shivers down your spine.  

For a moment you feared he would rise to attack you or perhaps berate you further, but no such action came. Instead, the former Great Lord Dracula’s shoulders deflated back to their hunched position, as he fell silent once again.  

Quietly, you made your way back to your room, shutting and locking the door behind you. If you had any tears left at all, you would have shed them throughout the night. Instead, you merely lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if there would even be a tomorrow to awaken to.  

Pleased to still be alive at this point, but feeling increasingly suffocated by this overwhelming sense of doom, you spend the next day cooped up in your room, on your knees, the rosary in your hand, whispering prayers of safety for your loved one. You couldn't explain it, but at the time, you felt compelled to recite prayer after prayer and reveal all the fears and worries in your heart.  

You speak out to Death, to God, to all the angels and saints, and beg them to grant Adrian safe passage as he completes his task of saving humanity— it’s something his Mother would have wanted after all.  

Amidst your fervent prayers, you feel the Castle shake and creak, but you soon realize something is off: it keeps jerking from side to side, several times, way too many to be a case of a single relocation. Your heart races, and in the pit of your gut, you know this is it:

The Alucard has come.  

Your love has come back for you.  

You scramble behind the door, poised with a wooden stake in hand (just in case, you never know), and wait.  

And wait.  

And wait.  

Following a crescendo of metallic crashes and screaming, you hear more crashes, this time lesser in intensity and they’re accompanied by the distinct scent of fire, sulfur, and burnt flesh.  

It terrifies you, bringing such horrible memories of your almost demise to the surface. You look down at the burn scars on your arms and feel physically ill. Every time you shut your eyes to blink, you see the corpse of Ms. Tepes, burning alive right before you as if no time has passed at all, as if you’re trapped in the permanent hell of that memory.  

The overwhelming ornery atmosphere in the castle only grows, seeming to suddenly flood your nostrils and every pore.  

You watch in shock and horror as thousands of soot-colored transparent ghouls burst through your doorway, the shock of the impact sending you reeling into the bed. Tortured faces of all shapes and sizes circle you menacingly, before bursting through your room’s glass window, vanishing just as fast as they came.  

Within an instant you feel… lighter, freer almost. It’s as if something major has changed, but you don’t know what.  

Timidly, stake still in hand, you make your way down the castle corridors. Unfortunately, you have to take several detours, your regular route being cut off by giant holes in the architecture. A good portion of the castle looks like it had been hit with cannon fire.  

You sincerely hope that whatever caused that damage is no longer rampaging around these halls, lest you stumble upon them yourself.  

By the time you reach the throne room, the sun is just peeking out from behind the horizon. The sight of it flowing freely into the castle interior lifts your spirits with hope. Sunlight means no vampires. No vampires means…

You follow the originating path of the sun’s beams, finding three figures illustrated against the sunrise. One of them is a burly-looking man, with a large frame and broad shoulders. Another is a woman, at least, you’re fairly certain they’re a woman, with curly hair, dressed in flowing blue robes. And the third is….  

You don’t even need a second glance to know who the third person is.  

Crying out his name, you run towards your long-lost lover, almost losing your footing over all the debris covering the floor. But just as he would before, and just as he always would, your lover, Adrian, catches you before you can fall.  

The two of you cling to each other for dear life, just silently sobbing, feeling grateful to be in one another’s embrace. You’re not sure how long the two of you stay intertwined like that, you just know however long it was, it could never be enough to make up for how much you missed him this past year.  

“Adrian,” you clutch his coat, “I thought you were dead! I thought he had killed you! I was so worried.”  

“He almost did,” the strange broad-shoulder man reveals in a teasing fashion. You watch as the robed woman elbows him in the gut.  

“Alucard,” Adrian says, regaining your attention as he grasps your hands in his. “I am Alucard now.”  

You look into his golden eyes, sensing while this is still very much the body of the man you loved, this Alucard before you, is not the same person that your Adrian was. After all this time, it feels like quite the loss, and yet, you cannot fault him for it. You are unaware of the journey he’s been on, of the sacrifices he’s had to make. God knows your character must have changed as well, living amongst a vampire court and necromancers for just under a year.  

You back away from your love, temporarily ignoring his concerned expression.  

“Hello Alucard,” you say, extending a hand, “My name is (Y/N). And I’d very much like to share a drink with you if you’d let me.”  

“Don’ know about Alucard,” the broad man mumbles, gripping his side in pain, “But I’d very much like a drink. Or five.”  

“Trevor!” The robed woman scolds.  

“What?”  

You smile at the three of them, feeling beyond blessed that your love has found such wonderful new friends.  

When you had first fallen for Adrian, you assumed your family would consist solely of him, his mother, and his father, that you’d spend the rest of your days learning medicine in a little cottage nestled in Lupu. That simple life was to be yours. But now, it’s all changed. And Alucard is all that remains of that family you once loved.  

You gaze out into the forest beyond the castle grounds, closing your eyes and sighing as you feel the morning’s sun on your face.  

Yes, it was true Mrs. and Mr. Tepes were gone.

It was true that the old Adrian could never come back.

But if you had to choose a new life, a life here amongst a gorgeous castle, with your former lover and his two new friends, well… you doubted you could pick a better one than that.  

A/N 2.0: WHY DID THIS TAKE ME SO LOOOONG? Who knows? Anyway, it’s here now. And hey— did you pay close attention to the symbols in the dividers? Go ahead and look back if you didn’t, just a silly little fun symbolism storytelling. Oh, also, I will finally be updating The Queue List to reflect all the asks I’ve since answered and posted to not confuse people checking on the status of their ask/new readers.

If you liked reading this, please REBLOG! Likes are great but reblogs spread my work much further. 

If you really, really liked reading this, Consider Buying Me a Coffee <3. 

[sanguineterrain]

professor pretty | charles xavier

Summary: You duck into a pub to escape a creep. Just when you've lost hope that you'll get to go home at all, a pretty-faced professor comes to your rescue.

Pairing: young!Charles Xavier x gn!reader 

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings/tags: creepy guy intimidating reader, charles to the rescue, flirting, drinking, professor!reader, i tried to make it accurate to an english university and make him English but if there's any mistakes feel free to lmk.

this is a modern au in that movie canon is the same but they have cellphones here bc it's easier lol

the divider

There’s a man at the back of the pub, in a scary leather jacket and combat boots, and he won’t stop staring at you. 

Instinct tells you that he’s not going to let you leave either. 

You noticed him after you left the school. That’s what first pushed you into this pub across from the university. Now you’re parked on a stool. You really want to go home, but instead you’re sticking close to the frazzled barman who’s managing about thirty first years who are just jazzed about the new school year. 

You’ve ordered a pint, even though you’re not really a beer drinker, but when in Rome and all that. You’ve had about two sips. 

You sneak a look over your shoulder. The man is still there. Fuck.

“Could I have another pint, please? Cheers.” A man leans against the bar top, hand running through his light brown hair as if on instinct. You’ve seen him once this week, at the university, when you were trying to get your own classroom set up for the term. 

You don’t know his name or what he teaches, but you do know that he likes the poofy-haired, off-duty secretary in the red dress that came in about an hour earlier. And she seemed to like him back. You’re surprised he’s still here.

You rest your chin in your hand, watching detachedly as he orders. He’s got a nice smile and even nicer manners. Posh. Probably a jerk. 

“Hello.”

You look up. Professor Pretty Boy is standing closer to you, blue eyes warm. His smile fades as you look at him.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, brows knitting in concern.

You sigh. “Yeah, great.”

The last thing you need is another guy screwing up your night. Even if this one is considerably better looking.

He rests his elbow against the bar top and pushes his finger against his temple. 

“Is someone bothering you?” he asks after a moment.

Your eyes widen. “How did you–?”

“I recognize the look. Fella in the corner, yeah?”

His words make you tense. You sneak a look back. The man is still there, though he’s now on the phone. 

“I think he’s going to follow me home if I try to leave,” you whisper. 

His eyes soften in concern. You watch him watch you. Then he seems to make a decision.

“I’ll be right back. Stay here, alright?”

He heads straight for the creep. You watch, slack-jawed, as your unsuspecting knight in a crisp, white button-up says a couple words to the man. Then they go outside. 

You turn around, guilt washing over you. What if he gets hurt?

Well, so what, says another part of you, it’s not like you told him to confront the guy.

But your knight returns in thirty seconds, every hair in place. He gracefully slides onto the stool next to you and takes a gulp of beer. Foam gathers on his upper lip. You can’t help your disbelieving smile.

“You’ve got…” You gesture to your mouth.

“Ah.” He takes a napkin and wipes his mouth, avoiding your gaze. Is he flustered? 

“There’s just no dignified way to drink a pint, I’ve learned,” he says, clearing his throat. He smiles at you, less rakish and more bashful. 

“How did you do that?” you ask. “He must’ve been there for half an hour.”

“Hm? Ah, well, I politely explained that that sort of behavior isn’t tolerated here, and that I was very happy to call the police.”

Your brows rise. “Wow. He seemed determined to stay.”

“I can be very persuasive, I’ve been told. Oh! How rude of me.” He sticks out his hand. “My name is Charles. Charles Xavier.”

You shake his hand. It’s cool and soft. You tell him your name. He repeats it softly.

“It’s very nice to meet you, though I wish we’d met through better circumstances,” Charles says.

You nod. “Me too. But thank you, seriously.”

“No thanks necessary. Men should let others live in peace.”

“Words of the century,” you say, raising your glass.

“Cheers,” Charles says, clinking your glasses together. 

You both take a drink. You’re considerably more relaxed. And no, you’re not really Professor Xavier’s type, but you like the company. At least for tonight. 

“So, are you visiting?” he asks. “Pardon my saying, but you don’t sound…”

“Like you?” You playfully raise an eyebrow.

His eyes widen. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ve only been here a week, actually. I took a teaching position at the university.”

“You don’t say! I teach here too. What are you teaching? Wait, no, let me guess…”

Charles squints in concentration, putting his hand to his forehead. “Hmm… ah! Women’s literature?”

You shake your head. “You’re on a roll, seriously. I’m in awe.”

Charles waves you off. “You’re too kind. I’m just perceptive.”

And there’s a pinch of something in your gut, something that tells you that it’s more than good perception. But you don’t detect any malice in Charles. In fact, you feel nothing but kindness and genuine interest emanating from his gaze. 

“Well, let’s see if you’ll go two for two. What author am I teaching first?”

Charles smiles at you knowingly, and you’re sure he’s about to say it.

“Oh, I haven’t a clue. Hmm… Ms. Austen?”

You laugh. “No, I’m very sure that the students at Pembroke have gotten their fill of Austen in their A-levels. Do you give up?”

He grins. “Yes, I do. Tell me all about it, please.”

“I didn’t peg you for a quitter, Charles.”

“I know when I’m beat,” he says softly, and the tips of his fingers touch yours. 

To your surprise, you don’t pull away, even though getting involved with a professor your first week would be bad.

But there’s something magnetic about him.

“I was thinking I’d teach The Haunting of Hill House.”

Charles raises his brows. “Horror? My, my. Quite a first impression. I like it.”

“Got to make it memorable, don’t I?”

“I don’t think you’ll have trouble with that,” he says. Your face warms under his incessant charm. “You’ll get on fine here. I’ve been teaching for a few years. My sister keeps pushing me to find a place in America, but I have a hard time letting go of the familiar.”

“I bet you’re popular here,” you say, and Charles immediately catches onto your meaning.

“Heh, well…” Charles purses his lips mischievously. “Ahem. I try to make the course engaging, especially since I teach graduate courses. But I’m a homebody, truly. It’s my sister who pulls me out here, and one thing leads to another, and I get to meet lovely new lecturers with impeccable literary taste.”

You turn and focus on your all but abandoned beer, tracing shapes into the condensation and hoping you’ll get some reserve back.

“Does this charming routine work on everyone?” 

Charles laughs. “Actually, my routine is something like, um…” 

He leans in, half-lidded. “I have all the time in the world for a darling with the TCHH gene. You would call it curly hair, I call it a mutation. A most alluring mutation, mind you—you see, mutations are what took us from single-celled organisms to the dominant form of reproductive life on the planet. And being that it’s my field of study, and I take my studies very seriously, I would love to explore what other genetic wonders you’ve been gifted with.”

It’s quiet for several moments. Then you begin to giggle. Charles schools his expression, feigning indignance. 

“And what’s so funny?”

“You’re not serious,” you say. “Does that really work?”

“I don’t know why you’re laughing—it has a nine out of ten success rate,” Charles says, sticking his nose up. “People like genetic facts.”

“I think they like your pretty face more than the facts, Professor.”

You wince as you realize what you’ve said. Charles pounces immediately.

“Apologies, I can’t hear you very well in this loud pub… did you say my face is pretty?”

“Oh, put a sock in it,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Like you don’t know.”

That draws a full laugh from him, face scrunching in delight. You smile back, shaking your head.

You check your phone out of habit, feeling like it’s been a long time and… holy hell! 11:46. You curse, scraping your stool back.

“Dammit, dammit. I’ve got a lecture tomorrow morning! I’m so sorry, Charles, I have to go.”

You hadn’t meant to stay so long, but the stranger had frightened you, and then you’d met Charles, and…

But you stop short upon seeing the door because of the terrifying thought of the stranger waiting outside for you.

Charles must sense your hesitance. “I can drive you home.”

“Oh, it’s fine. I’m only a ten minute walk away,” you say, but it’s weak.

He puts a hand on your back. The touch is fleeting, but he’s warm through your shirt. 

“Then I’ll walk with you. I love walking. And the rain will come soon—got to take advantage of clear nights.”

You look at him. He already has his coat. You suddenly remember the woman he’d followed to the back table. 

“Are you sure? Didn’t you have a…”

“She wasn’t interested,” Charles says, back to his perceptive ways. His gaze is fond. “I’d rather walk with you, anyway.”

“You’ve already charmed me, Charles,” you say as he walks you out of the pub.

“No charm,” he says simply, holding the door for you. “Just being honest, darling.”

You feel infinitely better on the way home. Charles keeps your spirits high, providing you with endless advice and assurances for your new job. 

You go up the steps, taking out your key to the flat. 

“Look, um…” 

You stop and turn. Charles follows you up. He starts to touch your arm, then stops. He straightens his tie instead.

“If you see that man again, or someone like him. Someone who doesn’t look right. Promise you’ll tell me, alright? You can reach me on my mobile any time.”

He hands you a card. Charles Xavier, Mutant Expert. Huh.

You look at him, fear returning. “Do you think he’ll come back?”

Charles shakes his head. “No, he won’t bother you. But if… I don’t know. Never mind. No, I’m worrying you. I’m just making you paranoid. Forget that.”

You shrug. “You’re keeping me safe. I like that.”

Charles chews the inside of his lip for a second. Then he leans in and kisses your cheek. You inhale sharply. 

His thumb lingers on your jaw before he pulls away completely.

“Good night,” he says, pupils dilated in the dim light. 

“Good night, Charles. Thank you.”

“Any time. And if you just want to go for a pint, that number isn’t just for emergencies.” 

“Are you that sure of yourself?” you ask, hand on your hip.

“No.” He smirks. “I just happen to be very perceptive.”

[christianbalesblueadidas]

I have a prompt 🙋‍♀️👀 (a rlly long one). reader thinking noticing how Bruce always disappears/makes an excuse to leave at night (like on dates, events, or maybe while getting freaky (👀) he suddenly just gets up and goes like “oh sorry smth came up”) and he can never give a convincing enough excuse so she starts getting distant and cold coz she thinks he’s not rlly serious in the relationship and Bruce notices this and feels rlly bad but the reader only finds out why after she had to get rescued by him……. So yeah there’s my prompt yay!!!

I'm Sorry, Sweetheart

bruce wayne x f!reader

your boyfriend seems to hate being around you. it's time to give him a taste of his own medicine.

warnings: NSFW, minors DNI (18+), some smut in the middle, kidnapping, graphic language

word count: 3.4k

a/n: thank you for the request! i hope i did your idea justice.

Bruce Wayne is singlehandedly the most infuriating man you’ve ever dated.

Every week, you know him a bit more. Little by little, you get to know him — soul, mind, and body — more and more every time you meet. And it’s not the cute “let’s take this slow” type of getting to know each other. It’s the irritating kind, where you get to know more about him and his world and he suddenly takes it away from your hands.

Your first date goes smoothly enough, setting an expectation he can never reach since. Despite it being the bare minimum, you are happy he is there the entire time, physically and mentally. He never once looked at his cellular phone or his watch or a random clock in the room. It is just you and him and the company you share together.

On the second date, he starts off completely interested and later into the night, he inexplicably turns distracted — and almost anxious. He picks up his phone and says he has a call to make, he disappears into the corner of the room, then comes back to your table and tells you he has somewhere to go. Wayne Enterprises business. Ignoring your barely hidden disappointment and offense, you nod with a smile and tell him, “It’s alright, Bruce.”

Of course, he notices your hurt expression when he leaves. Even if you manage to hide your emotions well, Bruce is trained to notice it. To make up for that mistake, he invites you to a fundraising party. Frankly, it’s out of your league, but you can never pass up an opportunity to be with Bruce and to finally experience a fancy party.

Contrary to your expectations, it’s the most boring party you’ve ever been in, full of snooty millionaires and social climbers. You don’t know how Bruce endures this. You’ve read about and saw the models he brings — multiple at a time too — to his parties and you’re guessing that’s how. You push away the thought, not sure whether to be insecure that you can’t measure up to his models and actresses or whether to be proud that he chose you and only you to be his date tonight.

You stand in the far corner of the large ballroom at the top of his penthouse, subtly avoiding Bruce’s “friends” and thinking about him. And speaking of the devil, his arm snakes its way around your waist from behind. Despite him being so close and having his arm around your middle, his hand is flat and open, careful not to hold you in a way you won’t like.

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” Bruce whispers to your ear and you can hear the smile in his voice.

You roll your eyes in amusement and turn your head to face his. Your breath hitches — a bit too obviously and embarrassingly so — as you realize that you’re so close to him. However, you quickly recover and reply, “Isn’t that line a bit too overdone for you, Bruce?”

He shrugs a shoulder playfully, his full glass of champagne sloshing in the flute.

“It always works,” he says. “If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it. But how about I try another line?”

With a charming smile that makes you weak in the knees, his open palm grips your hip, just right above the curve of your backside. His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes and his grip hesitant, almost like he isn’t very sure of himself or of something else. Nevertheless, you’ll fall for his charm anytime.

“You wanna get out of here?”

That single question brings you to his bedroom, which is almost the entire floor if it weren’t for the foyer to give him privacy from the elevator. You’ve never seen a bedroom quite like it. Floor-to-ceiling windows that display a view of Gotham, frosted glass panes around his bed for some semblance of privacy, and a sitting area beside it that looks over the city. It’s an apartment without a kitchen, which you’d be more astonished about if your breath weren’t taken away by Bruce’s slow kisses on your lips and your neck.

He has you on your back on the bed, silky taupe sheets like clouds under you. He hovers over you, his entire figure taking over your vision, his muscles hidden by a black Giorgio Armani suit and gray tie. His lips and tongue move languidly against yours like he has all the time in the world. He holds himself up by a hand beside your head and the other presses your thigh against his hip. His hand idly runs up and down under your dress, but never quite reaches anywhere near where you need him the most.

“Bruce, plea—“

You’re interrupted by his phone on the nightstand. Your head whips to the side, glaring at the screeching machine. Who the hell is calling during this time of night? Well, perhaps that’s what you get for dating a billionaire. Rich people are always eccentric.

He suddenly stiffens up and gets off you. A pang of hurt in your heart rings as you notice how quickly he gets up like he got burnt. Your brows furrow, confused and a bit offended.

“Who is that?” you ask and you can’t help the way you sound so jealous. You’re aware of the fact that you shouldn’t be — not yet — but the fact that you’re in his bed is making you more sensitive about your feelings for him.

“Uh,” he reaches for his phone. He looks at the screen. “It’s Lucius Fox.” Lie. “I have to take this. I’m sorry.”

He disappears into the bathroom to apparently take his call. In fact, it is just an alarm set with a ringtone to sound like a phone call. He feels especially bad about using you as an alibi, but his usual strategy to get out of parties that stretch on too late involve his dates.

Due to his playboy image, nobody questions when he leaves too early. He rarely sleeps with the women he invites to parties, and if he doesn’t, they never tell anyway because it hurts their pride to say that Bruce Wayne didn’t sleep with them. It never hurt him either. You, however, are different. He wishes he doesn’t have to use you.

He emerges out the bathroom with a regretful look on his face. You don’t know how much it also hurts for him to make you leave.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll have Alfred drive you home.”

“What is it?”

“Oh, it’s just work. But it’s urgent,” he replies and he almost winces at how uncharacteristically bad he is at lying to you.

“Oh, of course. It’s alright, Bruce.”

This time, you don’t hide your disappointment.

He tries his best to not abandon you every time you see each other. He scoots your meetups an hour or so earlier because Batman can’t adjust, not even for you. Then, he texts and calls you whenever he’s free and awake, giving you random updates that he doesn’t know make your day. His efforts reassure you eventually, and you’re no longer mad at his odd tendency to leave you so suddenly in the middle of the night or when it nears twelve. Now that you’re both content with how often you see each other and how often your nights don’t get interrupted, you’re both happy.

One day, you surprise him at his penthouse after work. It’s a random visit, to be frank, and you just wanted to watch television or do anything boring with him after you eat the dinner you have brought. What you don’t expect is that you’ll be on your back on his couch, stuffed full of his cock as the TV plays in the background, neither of you interested to watch it. No dinner yet either, but he's enough to make you full and wanting more.

Airy moans leave your lips as he thrusts into you, holding onto his broad shoulders by bunching up the fabric of his expensive shirt in clenched fists. It has never occurred to you that you’ve never seen him without his shirt off even during sex. You’ve always been too distracted to care.

Too distracted like right now. The stretch of him in your cunt is delicious, satiating your appetite in ways that no food or other pleasure could. His pelvis rubs against your clit and you cry out every time his tip hits that spot in you while your bundle of nerves grind against his firm body. With every grind of hips, you reach new heights on your way to orgasm.

Bruce is a sight to behold. His eyes half-lidded mouth parted, moans spill from his wet lips. His chocolate brown hair a mess on his head, a product of your hands mussing them up earlier while making out. His muscled chest heaves, pressing against your softer one when he inhales. When your eyes aren't rolling back, you love staring at him above you.

“I— 'm close,” you manage to mumble out despite being so cock drunk.

"Me too, sweetheart," he growls out, a lower register that sounds unfamiliar and familiar at the same time, considering that you've only heard this tone from him during intimacy.

Bruce has one ear for you and the other for the TV, even when he's already nearing climax. The television is now apparently showing the news. The reporter says something about a bank robbery organized by the Joker and—

His hips thrust roughly into yours out of instinct, shocking you and making you moan even louder. He doesn't go faster, knowing it doesn't quicken the job. He takes your legs by the crook of your knees and presses your thighs to your torso, essentially folding you into a position you never knew you can do. You let go of his shirt and tangle your hands into his already-messy hair. With this new angle, his cock reaches deeper inside of you.

"Bruce," you moan out, your eyes rolling back. "Oh, fuck."

You don't know that he's trying very hard to make this good for you while letting him have time to take care of the bank robbery. He doesn't want to leave you in the dust again, mostly because it'll be an asshole move and because you're both on the verge of orgasm and a hard-on isn't something to bring to a fight.

More importantly for him, he doesn't want to leave you hanging. He can't express his thoughts and feelings very well other than through gifts and sex, so he wants to show you how much he adores you, especially that he's leaving you again. He knows it isn't enough, but it's all he can do for now.

He leans his head down to kiss you, sloppy and all tongues. While you're distracted by his mouth and his cock, he reaches a hand down and rubs circles on your clit while he thrusts in and out of you.

He proudly watches as you unravel underneath him, masterfully played by him like an instrument made only for him. Your toes curl in the air as you stiffen up and relax. He swallows your moans with his kisses, eagerly drinking in your pretty noises. He helps you ride it out like the gentleman he is, still moving in and out of your pussy.

He follows suit, coming deep inside you and painting your walls white. A deep groan rumbles through his chest, eyes squeezed shut and jaw slack.

He internally curses when he realizes he didn't have a condom on and he's only lucky that you told him before you take birth control — and that you even allowed him to come in you. But still, he curses at his lapse of sensibility.

You come down from your high. Bruce is counting down the seconds and the minutes. He needs to be out of here as soon as possible to deal with the Joker. He slowly pulls out of you, come dripping down your flesh mixed with your wetness. But you can't even bask in the afterglow because of his urgent task.

"You alright, darling?" he asks breathlessly. He looks you up and down, surveying you.

You can only nod and hum in affirmation. Eyes half-lidded and gaze trained on him in a daze.

"You don't mind if I have to go now? Something came up."

Oh, how you hate that. Why does something always come up when you're in the middle of something?

"It's alright, Bruce."

That evening, Batman is too late to catch the Joker. When he gets there, he was already in his getaway car. He pursues him, leading to a high-speed chase around the city. However, the Joker has traps ready on the way. He should've known that he'd anticipate his presence.

Bruce comes home to you weary and frustrated. He takes it out on you, inexplicably being rougher than usual for your round two. You take it, enjoying it anyway. But still, something lingers in the back of your mind, a thought rearing its ugly head since the time he left — maybe even since a few months ago.

Is he not taking your relationship seriously? You should've guessed he wouldn't, you think, considering he does have a reputation. But you're optimistic enough to have thought that perhaps his reputation is mostly the work of the media. Even then, you can't deny the photos and videos you've seen of him. Perhaps it's true. He doesn't value you as much as you value him.

You don't talk to him since that day. You don't outright avoid him but when he doesn't reach out, you don't either.

He notices you distancing yourself from him. He figures that maybe you need some space, which is one of the worst decisions he can ever do when it comes to this situation. He has never been good with relationships.

It further upsets you. In your mind, he doesn't even care when you stop approaching him. He doesn't care that you're not seeing each other or even talking to each other much. He's only there if you want him first.

To Bruce, it's fine that you need space. It's fine that he doesn't get to see you as much as he wants to — at least, that's what he tells himself. Batman feels differently. His punches hit harder, the bruises he leaves much darker. Even though no one else knows about you and him, Gotham knows there's something upsetting the Bat more than usual.

He thinks about telling you his secret but that involves putting you in possible danger. No one else can know he is Batman. Not even you, not even if he cares for you so much. He'd rather distance form between you than tell you. He's got eyes on you, anyway.

You don't know how to go about this. It seems too presumptuous to barge into his penthouse. You're obviously not on that level of relationship to do so. A call is too impersonal. So, you don't go about it at all. You have never been good at communication.

You spend days constantly on the verge of tears, bottling up every drop of frustration you've felt ever since Bruce started acting suspicious around you. When you're at work, you stifle the urge to cry. When you're at home, you hold yourself back from calling him — and then cry. It's a vicious cycle and it hurts even more than when he leaves you.

Sighing, you insert the key into your car, more than ready to drive home after work. Suddenly, strong hands grab you into a beat-up black SUV parked nearby. You scream and flail, but nobody is around to help, or maybe they're too unbothered and selfish to care. This is Gotham after all; these things happen every day.

You can't see or speak, blindfolded and a duct tape covering your mouth. You can only hear what the kidnappers are talking about as they drive you to an unknown location. It's an isolatory experience and how you wish you were actually alone instead of tied up and blindfolded. Tears wet the bandana tied around your head as you quietly cry.

"Wayne would pay so much money to get that back."

"Would he? He has a new bitch every week."

"Lucky fucker."

"Hope not too lucky. I wanna get at least a mill from this bitch."

A loud bang from the roof of the car startles all of you. The driver slams the brakes, flinging you to the back of the front seat, a cry of pain ripping from your throat.

"Shit! It's Batman!"

"Fuck! I told you we shouldn't mess with Wayne! He has him in his payroll!"

The doors of the SUV open and the kidnappers hit you on the way as they rush out. You hear scuffling and punching and metal banging on metal and bones breaking. A sob escapes you despite you trying to keep your resolve.

"Don't let me see you again," a voice growls out. Then, what seems to be a body slams onto the side of the car.

Wait, that voice sounds familiar...

A rough material brushes your skin as — you assume — Batman rips off the tape on your mouth. A gasp leaves you, heaving in a deep breath. You hear metal ripping fabric and you can see again. You blink through your tears, adjusting to the light, which isn't much as you're in a lonely road in the middle of the night. Eventually, your limbs are free too, but you're still too weak to stand or walk.

Black surrounds his eyes due to his cowl and, with his armor and cape, he is completely shrouded in darkness. But you'd know those eyes anywhere. You'd know those lips anywhere. He can't hide even in darkness, his own domain.

"Bruce," you breathe out in relief.

Surprising him, you wrap your arms around his armored neck, pulling him close to you in an embrace. It's not the warmest nor most comfortable hug in the world, but the fact that it is him is what matters.

His eyes widen. How did you guess it was him so easily? Nevertheless, without missing a beat, his arms wrap around you protectively. His muscular form and dark cape warm you up and shield you from the world. He is relieved that his tracker works and alerted him at the right time. You're safe in his arms now.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, holding back another sob. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, the armor pressing onto your cheek.

Now, you understand. You understand all his sudden leaving, the odd hours he replies to your texts, his persistent drowsiness, and the random bruises. You feel like an ass for being cold towards him when he's risking his life every night for the city. Not to say that you like the idea of your boyfriend running around beating up criminals during the night, but the fact that he is so selfless while you aren't makes you feel terrible.

"No... I should be the one who's sorry," he says and there's a sense of hesitancy in it, like he has never said those words before in that order. Still, you detect his sincerity and accept it.

In a moment of impulse, you pull away from the hug only to rest your hands on his covered cheeks and to press your lips against his. You tilt your head, the hard nose of his cowl pressing against your cheek. The pain goes unnoticed, your mind more preoccupied with how much you've missed his lips on yours.

As his tongue runs through the seam of your lips, coaxing it open, he pulls away as though he remembers where you are. Almost to placate you for the loss of contact, he runs a hand down your hair, petting you like a doll, a faint smile on his lips. It's a peculiar sight seeing the Batman with an expression other than stony emotionlessness or rage. The fact that you're the reason why makes the butterflies in your belly flutter even quicker. It makes you feel special.

"I'm bringing you home. I'll be there when the sun rises."

For the first time, you're not dejected nor disappointed unlike the other times you've uttered those words as you reply with a small grin tugging at your lips.

"Alright, Bruce."

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Pt. 

Word Count- 5.5k

Warnings- Swearing, violence, spoilers for canon, abusive dads, trauma, reader having bad responses to her trauma.

“Wait, you’re telling me that I miss ghosts coming back and terrorizing Damon just because I went to a doctor’s appointment?”

I deadpan at Ric as he looked over a bunch of pictures and drawings they had found in some mystery tunnel. 

“That’s what you get for going to the doctor,” Damon smirks at me as he and Elena spar. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Demon. Next time I just won’t get shot,” I shoot a glare at him and he rolls his eyes. Elena uses this moment to try to throw a punch at the vampire but Damon easily catches it. 

Elena sighs defeated and then turns to me, “How did your appointment go? Any good news?”

I roll my left shoulder and then shrug, “Nothing really new. The doctor did say I’m healing faster than anyone he’s seen before though,” This gains all three of their attention, “He chalked it up to my wonderful youth.”

“Well that’s good,” Elena smiles happily.

“And he said he liked my birthmark.”

“You have a birthmark?”

I look over to Ric who is looking at me questionably.

“Ya, she’s got like a smudge on her shoulder,” Damon jests and I glare at him.

“It’s not a smudge you asshat.”

“Don’t be mean Damon,” Elena defends me, “Personally I love Y/N’s birthmark. I think it’s cute. Almost looks kinda like the moon.”

I walk over to Elena and we both glare at the blue-eyed vamp who just rolls his eyes again. 

“Thank you, my love,” I look over to my best friend who is sporting a light pink tint to her cheeks at the nickname.

“Of course, my beautiful best friend,” Elena smiles back and we both giggle.

“Can y'all just kiss and get it over with,” Damon groans out.

“You wish you had a boyfriend the way I have my girlfriend, Damon. Your jealousy is oozing off of you,” I smile at the man and he purses his lips and then goes over to Ric.

A buzzing in my pocket has me separating from my friend and grabbing my phone. 

“Oh shit,” I whisper out and quickly grab my jacket off a nearby chair.

“Where are you going,” Elena asks to me as I book it to the front door.

“Theo’s tire popped and he’s supposed to be at practice in 2 minutes. So I have to go rescue him. Toddles!”

—

“Thanks for picking me up,” I groan as Theo grabs his football padding from the trunk of my car and puts them into my arms.

“Ya, whatever,” I struggle to carry it all as Theo closes the trunk and makes me follow him towards the school.

“Dude take your shit before I drop it,” I groan out to my brother who turns back and gives me a look before dramatically sighing and grabbing the gear from my hands.

“You need to start hitting weights. I’m bulking up this season so you can join me,” My brother says excitedly. 

I stare at him in disgust, “Oh ya cause that sounds like great sibling bonding time to me.”

“Do you know how many people would kill to be my sibling,” Theo asks and I shoot him a blank look.

“Many people, nerd. Many a people,” I fight the urge to laugh at my brother’s dramatics as his mood instantly brightens, “There’s the guys! I got to go, see you later nerd.” 

I stand there for a moment as I watch my brother run off to his teammates. Oddly enough though after going like 10 feet he stops and turns around. He quickly runs over to me and for a second I think he’s going to knock me down but instead, he balances his gear on one hand, and with the other he side-hugs me. 

“Even though other people want to be my sibling, I wouldn’t want any of those hoes,” Theo lets go of me and gives me a boyish grin, “You’re kind of a cool sister. Even if you are a nerd.”

Theo turns back around and I can’t fight the huge smile that comes over my face as I watch my little brother instantly start bickering with his teammates. 

“You guys have a cute relationship,” A feminine British voice makes my smile instantly drop.

“Hello Rebekah,” I turn around and come face to face with the pretty blonde Mikaelson. 

“That’s your little brother I assume. He looks just like you,” She smiles at me but I don’t return it.

“What do you want?”

Rebekah doesn’t seem to be unsettled by my prickly attitude as she continues talking. 

“I was wondering if you’d like to get lunch with me. Or perhaps go dress shopping? Homecoming is coming up and I’ve never been to one so I could use some help.”

My eyes narrow in confusion, “You’ve never been to a homecoming? Aren’t you like a million years old?”

Rebekah seems momentarily annoyed by my comment but quickly brushes it off, “I spent much of my life following my brothers around. Neither of which care for the dramatics that come with high school. So no, I haven’t been to a high school dance.”

I think about what she said for a moment and a smirk graces my lips at the thought of posh Elijah at a homecoming dance. 

“You’re not missing out on much,” I pick at the thread of my shirt, “I mean, not that I would know. I’ve never been to one either.”

At this Rebekah frowns, “You’ve never been! Why not?”

I shrug at Rebekah’s question, “Public places with tons of people aren’t really my thing. I’d rather be alone than be in a room with a bunch of drunk, loud teenagers.”

I move around the Original and start walking towards my car but inwardly groan when I hear her footsteps behind me.

“Great! Then we can experience it for the first time together!”

I bite my lip in anger and whip around, “What are you doing?”

Rebekah’s face morphs into one of confusion, “What do you mean?”

I gesture to her and then to me, “This! Why are you trying so hard to be around me? Did your brother put you up to this? He’s already making Alastair follow me around like a dog, so what about you?”

At my outburst, the girl frowns, “I heard about what my brother did. His ways of caring for people aren’t always shown in the best ways,” She smiles softly at me, “But I swear to you my brother didn’t put me up to this. I just…would like a friend…I would like you to be my friend.”

I look at Rebekah and try to find any signs of deceit in her face but I can’t seem to find any.

“You can’t just have friends, Rebekah. Friendships are built on trust. I can’t be friends with you unless you prove to me that I can trust you.”

Rebekah seems to take this as a approval as she quickly nods her head, “Great! Then I’ll just make you trust me. Can I have your phone number so I can text you? That’s what it is called right? I’m still quite new to this ages technology.”

I sigh and then reach out my hand and Rebekah smiles grabbing her phone from her pocket and placing it in my hand. I go to her contacts and type in my number and hand the phone back to the smiling blonde. 

I turn around and head to my car but hear the blonde call after me.

“I’ll text you!”

—

Rebekah wasn’t joking when she said she’d text me because approximately an hour later I’m pulling up to the Salvatore house because she practically begged me to meet her here.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

I turn around and spot Elena getting out of her SUV. 

“Rebekah asked me to come,” I frown at my friend’s worried expression, “What are you doing here?”

“She asked me to come as well.”

Elena and I warily eye each other for a moment before walking up to the front door. Elena goes first as she pushes the front door open and my ears are assaulted by loud pop music.

Elena shoots me a look over her shoulder and I shrug as we make our way into the foyer. We begin walking into the living room but stop when a smiling She-Klaus walks over to us with champagne in her hands.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“You invited me over to talk,” Elena says from beside me, not matching Rebekah’s cheery attitude.

“I’m not exactly sure why I’m here,” I raise a finger.

Rebekah looks at us and then turns around, “Alright, girls. Have at it.”

I’m confused on who she’s talking to for a moment but then when a group of girls wearing homecoming dresses enter the living room in a line, I have my answer.

“What the hell,” I whisper to Elena who looks as shocked and confused as me. 

“Okay, now twirl, please,” Rebekah asks the girls and I watch in disgust as they all oblige.

“You’ve compelled your own private runway show?”

I nod along to Elena’s question because I’m also thinking the same.

“I need a homecoming dress. So what do you think? Pick one” Rebekah says as if this is totally normal behavior. 

“I know you’re new to this whole thing…and century. But most people just go to the store and try on the dresses. Not compel a bunch of innocent girls to parade around in them.”

Rebekah frowns at me. 

“We’re not here to help you shop. I’m here to talk about why you don’t want me to wake up Mikael.”

Rebekah smirks at Elena’s comment for a moment before flashing behind a blonde girl. I jump back slightly as I watch her fangs protrude from her gums as she puts them near the girl's throat. 

Elena takes a step forward and I follow.

“I said pick one, Elena.”

Elena looks a me for a moment before pointing to one of the girls, “The red one.”

“There,” Rebekah smooths out the blonde girl's hair, “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Go away. Remember nothing.”

I watch disturbed as the girls walk back out of the room and Rebekah comes back over to us. 

“You do not threaten me,” Rebekah stares Elena down and I move slightly in front of my friend, “You will learn what I allow you to learn. Is that clear?”

Elena nods from beside me and Rebekah moves around us and out of the room. Elena and I shoot each other another look before following the girl upstairs and into Stefan’s room where Rebekah is starting to go through the broody vampire’s things. 

“We shouldn’t be here,” Elena says standing next to me in the doorway.

“Of course, we should,” Rebekah says as she picks up a pair of boxers, making me frown in disgust, “Come on. Like you’ve never wanted to snoop. Boxer briefs. Now that’s a change from the ‘20s.”

“Ew. TMI.”

“Are you gonna root through his stuff all night or are you gonna start to tell us your story?”

Rebekah sighs, “You really are no fun,” She turns to me, “Why are you friends with such a bore?”

“One thing you should learn about me Rebekah,” I glare at the blonde, “I am not friends with people who insult my friends.”

Rebekah stares at me for a moment before rolling her eyes and muttering something under her breath. 

“What do you want to know?”

Elena takes a step into the room, “Elijah said that your father was a landowner in Europe. How did you guys end up here?”

At the mention of the suited Original, a warm feeling brushes my cheeks.

“My parents had just started a family when a plague struck their homeland. They lost a child to it. They wanted to escape and protect their future family from the same fate.”

A wave of sadness washes over me at the mention of Rebekah losing her sibling. I couldn’t imagine what I would do if I ever lost Theo. No matter how many headaches he gives me, the boy is practically my son.

“So how did you end up here,” Elena prods, “This part of the world hadn’t been discovered yet.”

Rebekah scoffs, “Not by anyone in your history books. But my mother knew the witch Ayana who heard from the spirits of a mystical land where everyone was healthy. Blessed by the gifts of speed and strength. That led my family here where we lived amongst those people.”

“The werewolves?”

“To us, they were just our neighbors. My family lived in peace with them for over 20 years during which my family had more children including me.”

“So… technically you’re American?” 

My question has both of the girls shooting me frowns but I lightly laugh at myself for the comment. 

“You make it sound so normal,” Elena comments. 

Rebekah walks towards a window and for a second I can see a thoughtful smile on her face, “It was. Once a month our family retreated to the caves underneath our village. The wolves would howl through the night and by morning we’d return home. One full moon, Klaus and my youngest brother Henrik snuck out to watch the men turn into beasts. That was forbidden. Henrik paid the price.”

A deep breath escapes my lips as the girl continues her story.

“And that was the beginning of the end of peace with our neighbors,” Rebekah turns back to look at us, “And one of the last moments my family had together as humans.”

The buzzing of Elena’s phone distracts us.

Rebekah coughs, “You better get that. That’ll be…Damon checking up on you.”

Elena turns around and answers the call as I walk over to Stefan’s desk and start rummaging through his things. I never said I was a Saint.

“Was that Stefan?’’

Elena’s question has me turning around and frowning. 

“Damon, how could you let him out,” Elena exclaims and I frown.

“That didn’t sound good.”

—

“Did you get your fill of snooping yet,” Elena asks Rebekah who is lying down on Stefan’s bed reading one of his many diaries, “Can we get on with the story?”

I watch from my seat on the floor as Rebekah throws the book onto the bed and stands up. She walks over to the desk by Elena and picks up a framed picture of the couple. 

“Honestly, I don’t get you two as a couple,” Rebekah shakes her head at my friend. 

“Why would you? You don’t know anything about who he really is,” Elena defends and Rebekah smiles at her and puts the frame back down. 

Rebekah leans down to make eye contact with my friend and I straighten up, “I know exactly who he is. He’s a vampire. We’re a predatory species. We don’t have time to care about humans and their silly little lives.”

“I don’t believe that,” I say but they don’t hear me. Or at least don’t acknowledge me. 

“Is that why you did that runway show earlier,” Elena snarks back and I bite my lip nervously as I have the feeling that a catfight is about to begin, “Because you don’t care about the homecoming dance?”

Rebekah stands up and Elena nods at her, “You know what? I’m just gonna go,” She turns to me, “Y/N you coming?”

I groan as I can practically hear my bones creaking as I stand up.

“You haven’t even heard half the story,” Rebekah calls to Elena. 

Elena turns around to her, “And you’re not going to tell it. You’re just bored and looking for someone to push around. Find someone else to play with. Maybe you can compel yourself a friend.”

OOP.

“The necklace wasn’t Stefan’s to give,” At Rebekah’s words I instantly sit my ass back down. This time on the comfy mattress. 

“It belonged to the original witch.”

Elena turns around, “The one who put the hybrid curse on Klaus?”

“Not just the hybrid curse. She’s the one who turned us into vampires.”

My mouth drops open, “Bomb drop…”

—

“Vampirism was a form of protection?”

Elena asks as Rebekah continues telling her story as we make our way down the stairs. 

“What else would it be?”

“A curse.”

“My parents only sought a way of keeping their children alive,” Rebekah answers.

“Yeah, but why stay? If they were so afraid of the werewolves why not leave?”

“Pride,” Rebekah says as she steps off the last stair and turns back to us, “My father didn’t want to run anymore. He wanted to fight and be superior to the wolves. Where they could bite we had to bite harder. Where they had speed we had to be faster. Agility, strength, senses.’’

Rebekah continues telling us the story of how the spell of vampirism came down to her mother’s hands since the other witch wouldn’t help them.

“In her hands? How could she do anything?”

Elena asks and I feel like I already know the answer. I mean if they’re called “The Originals,” I’m assuming the “Original” witch has something to do with them.

“Because my mother was also a witch.”

“What?”

“The witch of the original family.”

“The original witch,” I finish for her and Rebekah smirks at me.

We make our way into the living room and I plant myself on my favorite couch. 

“Where do they keep their best vintage,” Rebekah asks. 

“But if your mother was a witch then..”

“Am I? No,” The vampire finishes, “A witch is nature’s servant. A vampire is an abomination of nature. You can either be one or the other never both,” Rebekah fishes out a bottle of wine and then turns to Elena, “My mother did this for us. She did not turn.”

“How did you turn?”

Rebekah pours herself a glass and then walks over to the fireplace, “She called upon the sun for life and the ancient white oak tree one of nature’s eternal objects, for immortality. That night, my father offered us wine laced with blood.”

I almost gag at that.

“And then he drove his sword through our hearts.”

My heart clenches as Rebekah’s voice slightly cracks. 

“He killed you,” Elena says.

“And he wasn’t delicate about it either,” Rebekah says with tears and her eyes and quickly breaks the cap off the wine bottle. 

“We had to drink more blood to complete the ritual. It was euphoric. The feeling of power was indescribable. But the witch Ayana was right about consequences. The spirits turned on us and nature fought back. For every strength, there would be a weakness. The sun became our enemy. It kept us indoors for weeks. Although my mother found a solution. There were other problems. Neighbors who had opened their homes for us could now keep us out. Flowers at the base of the white oak burned and prevented compulsion. And the spell decreed that the tree that gave us life could also take it away. So we burned it to the ground.”

Metal.

“But the darkest consequence is something my parents never anticipated. The hunger. Blood had made us reborn and it was blood that we craved above all else. We could not control it. And with that… the predatory species was born.”

“I need a cigarette,” I say out loud as I sigh into my hands at the migraine of an origin story.

“Why did Mikael start hunting Klaus,” Elena asks not giving anyone time to catch their breaths. 

“When Nik made his first human kill,” Nik? “It triggered his werewolf gene. With that, he came my father’s greatest shame.”

“Yeah,” Elena responds, “Elijah told us this part of the story. Your mother had had an affair with one of the werewolf villagers.”

I look down at my hands as Elena and Rebekah continue speaking about Klaus’ father and I have to fight back showing any emotion as I think back to my own father, or not father I guess. 

“She tried to make it right. She put the hybrid curse on Nik to suppress his werewolf side and then she turned her back on him. But Mikael’s greatest weakness as a human was his pride. As a vampire that was magnified. He went on a rampage and killed half the village.”

Here, I thought my father leaving his family was the worst thing one could do in that situation. 

“Then he came home and killed her.”

“Mikael killed your mother?”

“He said she broke his heart so he would hers. He tore it from her chest as Nik watched. Afterwards, my father took off in a rage and the rest of my family scattered. Nik stayed so he could help me bury her. He knew I had to say goodbye to my mother.”

I listen to the rest of Rebekah’s heartbreaking story as she recalls how she and Elijah promised Klaus that the three of them would always be together. Always and forever. 

“Always and forever. Even though he locked you in a coffin for 90 years,” Elena says and I shoot a look at her.

“Dude, really?”

“We’re vampires. Our emotions are heightened. I’m stubborn, Elijah moral, and Nik…Nik has no tolerance for those who disappoint him. Over a thousand years as a family we’ve all made that mistake at least once. I’ve made it several times.”

As Rebekah’s voice softens I have to fight the urge to reach out and comfort her. Being someone who knows what it feels like to be the one disappointing a family member, I can’t help but relate and feel sorry for the girl.

“But you still love him?”

“He’s her brother, Elena,” I turn to her, “What if it were Jeremy? I know that if it were Theo, I couldn’t hate him. Even if he made my life a living hell.”

“She’s right,” Rebekah looks over to me and I can see the appreciation in her eyes, “And I’m immortal. Should I spend an eternity alone instead?”

Rebekah swallows and I think she’s about to start crying but she quickly walks by both of us, “You’ve heard the story. It’s time to go,” She turns to Elena who is just standing there, “I said leave, Elena! I don’t know what you’re up to but I am no longer playing along.”

“I’m just looking for one good reason why we shouldn’t wake Mikael.”

At Elena’s words I frown, “Are you serious Elena? The man literally killed his own children! After, abusing them their whole lives. You may have grown up in a white-picket fence family, but I didn’t. I know men like that, and men like that should stay away.”

Elena looks at me and from the look on her face, she doesn’t seem to understand why I’m defending Rebekah.

“She will anyway,” Rebekah shakes her head, “I know you want him to help you kill my brother. I’m not stupid.”

“It’s no secret that I want Klaus dead. He has a hold over Stefan’s life and over mine,” Elena points back to me, “And he’s terrorizing Y/N.”

Rebekah glares down at her, “Do what you need. Wake Mikael at your own peril. But make no mistake. If you come after my brother I will rip you apart. And I get my temper from my father. Now leave.”

Elena looks down and then back to me, “Y/N, come on.”

I look at my friend and then at the vampire, “You go. I have to talk to Rebekah.”

This seems to shock both of them, but I just stare at them blankly. Elena takes this as goodbye as she nods her head and leaves the house. 

After Elena leaves Rebekah and I stand there in silence for a moment, and awkwardly I clear my throat.

“Um, I’m sorry.”

Rebekah looks over to me confused, “What are you sorry for? You did nothing to insult me, unlike your friend.”

I frown at Elena’s behavior and then play with the loose thread on my shirt, “For losing your brother. And your mother. You were just a teenage girl when that happened. You didn’t deserve to have that happen to you.”

Rebekah stares at me almost shocked before she shakes her head and walks over to the couch I’m sitting on. 

“You have nothing to apologize for. It was over a thousand years ago, I’m over it.”

Rebekah sits on the seat next to me and we watch the flames of the fire.

“I don’t believe that. I think a loss like that stays with you. Even after a millennia.”

Rebekah turns to look at me and then nods her head softly, “Thank you, Y/N.”

We continue sitting in silence before I see her move out of the corner of my eye.

“What did you mean,” I turn to her in confusion as she speaks, “When you told Elena you didn’t grow up like she did and you knew about men like my father?”

At Rebekah’s question, I turn away from her curious glance and look back towards the flames, “It doesn’t matter.”

“You can tell me you know? It’s not like I have any other friends to go spill your secrets to.” 

At Rebekah’s words, I bite down hard on my lip to try to stop the tears that are making their way into my eyes. The urge to finally spill on the secret that I’ve been holding in all summer, building inside of me. 

“My father…growing up wasn’t the kindest man,” I say out loud trying to be careful with my words, “He was absent a lot but… those were the good moments, oddly enough, because, whenever he did come home… he was,” I stop, trying to find the right words to describe my estranged “not” father, “he was harsh. Nothing was ever good enough for him. No one was ever good enough for him. Certainly not me. He was the stereotypical macho man who thought that women weren’t equal to men. So whenever I showed strength in something, he made sure to kick me back down. Just to remember how weak I could be.”

I don’t realize I’m crying until Rebekah places a tissue into my hands. I’m not really sure where she got it but I take it and wipe away my tears.

“You mention him in past tense…is he…” 

I shake my head, “No, he’s not dead. He and my mother separated about two years ago. I haven’t seen him since.”

Rebekah doesn’t say anything as she waits to see if I’ll continue and I sigh as I try to.

“I didn’t know why they did. My mother always just kind of let it happen you know? The abuse. I don’t even know if you would call it that. It’s not like he hit me or whatever. Others have had it worse. My mother though just always told me not to provoke him, not to make him mad. But, she really wasn’t ever the one who got the brunt of it,” I bite down on my lip harder, “And you want to know the worst thing about it? Three months ago my mother told me that the man that had made me cry into my pillow since I was 8 years old… wasn’t even my actual father.”

I hear Rebekah let in a breath as she continues watching me.

“How fucked up is that, you know,” I laugh with tears in my eyes at the irony of it all.

“Did she tell you who your real father was?”

I shake my head at her question, “Just the bare minimum. I’ve barely talked to her since that day anyway. It’s the reason I have my own room down the hall,” I point towards the direction of my room at the Salvatore’s, “Damon’s let me crash here the entire summer. He’s the only other person who knows.”

“Not even your brother?”

I quickly shake my head and wipe the rest of my tears away, “Especially not, Theo. He’s so young and with the move and everything I don’t want him to be stressed out.” 

I can see Rebekah looking at me as if she’s trying to find the right words to say, “Is that the only reason you haven’t told him?’’

My eyebrows furrow as I keep staring at the fireplace, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you’re worried that he won’t accept you. Nik had that same fear after he found out he wasn’t Mikael’s.”

“I am not Klaus,” I bite out and she just nods.

“I know. But you can’t deny the similarities,” I don’t say anything as I try not to think of her words, “I know I haven’t been here very long but… just from seeing Theo and you a few times, I don’t think you have to worry about telling him. If he truly loves you he’ll accept you no matter what.”

I finally think about Rebkeah’s words and in doing so, don’t even notice the front door being swung open. 

Rebekah sighed deeply from beside me as she stood up, “I thought I told you to leave twice.”

“How do you know Mikael killed your mother,” Elena’s question has me turning slightly to hear her better.

“Nik was there,” Rebekah says as she pours herself a drink, “He told me.”

Elena sighs and she steps closer to Rebekah, “He lied to you.”

“And how do you know that?”

Elena walks over to us and I put my face down slightly so she can’t see the dried tears on my cheeks.

“The cave where you carved your family’s names, is covered in symbols. The story of your family. How your parents arrived, how they made peace, the spell that turned them into vampires, and this,” She places a photograph on the table, “This is the symbol for hybrid. It’s the combination of the werewolf and the vampire symbol. And this is the one for your mother.”

“Her necklace.”

Elena sighs, “And this is the story of her death. The hybrid killed the original witch. Not Mikael, Klaus.”

I turn fully at them both. Surprise is most likely clear on my face.

“No,” Rebekah forcefully shakes her head, “No, he wouldn’t.”

“She put the curse on him, made it so that he would be the only one of his kind and then she rejected him. With the werewolf gene comes aggression and violence. When he turned all of that was heightened. He killed her, Rebecca, and then he made up this entire lie about your father so that he wouldn’t lose you.” 

“These mean nothing. They’re just stupid drawings done by stupid people who had no idea who my family was,” Rebekah yells as she grabs the pictures and flings them into the fireplace. 

Elena approaches her, “Then why are you so upset?”

“Elena stop, just leave her alone,” I tell my friend but she ignores me. 

“Why are you doing this to me? I’ve done nothing to you,” Rebekah yells at her.

“Klaus killed your mother. He has a hold on you, on me, on everyone. He has for a thousand years. We have to make it stop!”

“Shut up! Just shut up! Don’t talk anymore! Nothing!”

I quickly stand up as Rebekah pushes Elena into the wall forcefully. 

“Rebekah!” 

After a moment Rebekah drops her hands and stands there silently with tears in her eyes. Elena and I watch cautiously but not even a moment later a sob escapes the blonde’s mouth as she drops to her knees. Elena looks over to me and I shake my head at her. 

“Go.”

I don’t even check to see if she leaves as I kneel down to the sobbing girl. I place a comforting hand on her shoulder and I gasp as I’m being pulled into a hug. Rebekah holds onto me for dear life as she cries into my shoulder. And I let her. 

—

I sigh as I throw my keys onto my kitchen table and sit down. I put my head in my hands and try to forget the shitshow that was tonight. 

“Damn bitch!”

Theo’s screech has me whipping around in my chair in shock. My brother stands there in his satin pajamas he got for Christmas last year with a hand over his heart.

“Fucking sitting in the dark like some goddamn stalker,” Theo walks over to the light switch and I try to stop him but it’s too late.

Theo’s smirk instantly drops as he rushes over to me and places his hands on the sides of my face, “What happened? Did someone say something to you? If it was someone at school tell me and I and Jeremy will go beat their asses right now.”

My brother’s angry tone has me smiling for a moment but before I can stop it tears are streaming out of my eyes and a sob escapes my mouth.

My little brother just stands there awkwardly as he pats my shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it? Um, should I call Elena or Mom?”

At the mention of our mother, I quickly shake my head, “No. I’m fine. Just a long day and all. I just need some sleep. Go back to bed, Theodore.”

Theo shakes his head and tries to deny my request but I shoo him away. As I watch his retreating figure I sigh and take a deep breath.

“Actually Theo…there’s something we need to talk about.”

[signoferoda]

TAUGHT WELL - HS

summary: the kids go into protective mode after someone flirts with y/n at the beach

Novie was the first to notice. Her little eyebrows furrowed as she tugged on her oldest brother's top. At only 6 years old, she was the youngest and only girl out of the styles family, she was a replica of her mother was what Harry said the day she was born and has said every day since then.

“Yes, Vivi. What’s up?” Theo asked, raising his eyebrow and looking ever so lovingly at his youngest sibling. His eyes were a darker shade of green and his hair dark brown, he was his father's twin. Standing a little over six foot at just 18 years old, he towered over the little girl.

“I don’t like that guy” Novie pointed, directing her brother's attention to the man standing a tad bit too close to their mother, who was currently standing in line to get some ice cream. “He’s looking at Mama weirdly” she states. This gets the attention of the two other styles boys, Blake and Indi, who lift their sunglasses and look over at their siblings.

They were on holiday, somewhere in the Caribbean, enjoying the last few days of the winter break before they had to get back to England to go back to school. Harry was on his stomach, snoozing away, his back smothered in the suncream y/n put on him earlier before she decided to get the kids ice cream.

Blake scoffs as he gets up from the beach towel, giving it a minute, watching the way the guy continues to ogle their mother despite the massive rock on her ring finger and the “Harry” tattoo on her collarbone. Blake was the hot-headed one, at 16 years old, he was slightly taller than Theo, his hair slighter longer. The perfect mix of his parents, definitely getting his dad's temper.

“If he as much as touches mum it’s game over” Blake states.

“I bet he’s going to ask her who we are” Indi speaks, he was the quietest out of the four. A lot more into his books and video games, and more of an introvert. He was 12, and already wise beyond his years.

“He’ll shit it when he finds out she’s our mum” Blake replies, his dark eyes staring intensely at the way the guy laughs, y/n looks over and the kids give her all a wave to which she smiles widely and waves back.

“Here we go,” Theo says, chuckling as he hears the guys gasp.

“No way you’re a mum” the guy gasps, his hand coming to lift his sunglasses off his eyes. “To an eighteen-year-old?! What! You look insanely good”

“We had him young” y/n chuckles awkwardly, looking over at the kids.

They watch on as the guy points to the ice cream that was just placed in her hand, assuming he asked to pay for it. “He’s tryna ask her out”

“That’s messed up, she’s clearly married”

“Her rings the size of Novie's head, can’t he see” Blake scoffs making Theo chuckle.

“Some guys are just divs and like married women” Theo replies, shrugging.

“That’s so fucked up”

“Right? So fucked up” Novie says making Theo sigh.

“Don’t say that Nov. Blake, watch your mouth” Theo says, before clapping his hand on the back of his brother's backs, “it’s time guys” he states as they watch the guy's hand brush over y/ns as he hands her some tissue to clean off the melting ice cream in her hand.

Theo ducks down to Novie. “You know what to do right, Novie Bear?” He fist bumps her.

“I’ve got it, Teddy Bear. Project rescue mum is underway” Theo chuckles at her nickname for him. He nods at Indi to follow her and the two set off to their mother, an innocent-looking adorning their faces.

“Mama” they hear Novie say as she wraps her hands around their mother's middle, Y/n smiles at her daughter as she hands the ice cream off to Indi who takes a lick. Y/n knows her kids like the back of her hand, she knows what they’re doing and it makes her chuckle softly to herself, just like their father she thinks. Harry was the one that instilled the project rescue mum into them, telling them to take care of their mother whenever he wasn’t around.

“Yes, baby girl? Are you alright?” Y/n asks as she ruffles her hand through her daughter's locks before looking over at her son who leans over to kiss her cheek.

“Can we go get some coconuts?” She looks up at her mother, with an innocent smile.

“Do you like coconut water?” The guy asks, causing Indi to scoff. “I could go get it for you? Would you like that?”

“No no it’s fine, truly thank you” Y/n replies just as her two older sons join her. The two boys tower over the guy and he has to look up to see them. They’re big, just like their dad, looking a lot older than their actual age.

“Hey mum, you nearly done?” Theo asks as Y/n is handed another ice cream from the man making them. Theo takes it off her with a smile.

“Nearly, just got another two left” she replies.

“It’s fine, Blake and I could wait for them, why don’t you go take Vivi to get her coconuts?” Theo offers and y/n nods before smiling.

“Thank you, angel”

“Make sure to get dad some as well, you know how he gets when he has to share his coconut water, he’s obsessed” Blake sniggers as everyone catches onto what he’s trying to imply. Harry hates coconut, especially coconut water, but that’s not important.

“Just like how he’s obsessed with you, right mama?” Novie asks, tugging on her mum's hand.

“Oh yeah, dad's insane about mum, he loves her so much” Indi speaks up, “oh look he’s awake, wave at him guys” The whole family waves at Harry who looks over with a smile, his hand up in the air. His hair was just growing back, so they stuck up awkwardly making him look so endearing. But as he gets up, his muscles flexing, it causes the guy to swallow before he excuses himself.

“Some men are disgusting, flirting with a married woman” Blake can’t help but say and without a doubt the guy heard him but he chose not to look back.

Harry comes up to his wife just as the last two ice creams are handed over to Theo. “How’s my perfect family doing?” He asks, snaking his hands around his wife’s middle before leaning in to kiss her cheek. He ruffles the boy's hair before pulling away and kissing Novie's cheek.

“Oh alright, just scaring off men as usual” Y/n laughs.

“men that have no shame” Theo adds.

“Who blatantly flirts with a woman whilst her whole family is there” Indi says and Harry rolls his eyes.

“Men who need their di-“

“Ok we get it Blake” Harry chuckles, before leading his family back.

“I swear, they’re just like you” y/n smiles, as Harry tugs her closer.

“I’ve taught them well, they know you’re our number one priority babe,” he says as he kisses her cheek before taking a quick bite out of Blake’s ice cream. The family chuckles and go back to enjoying their time under the sun.

[boybandbaby]

I Had Some Help (Evan Buckley x Fem!Reader)

summary: 3 times Buck comes to your rescue, 1 time you come to his

word count: 3618

warnings/tags: alcohol consumption, reader wears a long skirt, reader walking alone at night while drunk, injuries and blood (scraped knees, head injury), car crash, stuck in elevator, Buck’s parents and their behavior (unspecified), suggestive ending

note: pics found on google

Buck had just stepped out of his apartment complex, staring down at his phone as he waited for an Uber.

He was supposed to be meeting the team for dinner and drinks when he noticed you stumbling past him in a hurry. You quietly sang along to a song playing from your phone speaker.

His brows furrowed and he looked around. He watched as your feet crossed one over the other as you walked in a zig zag.

He sensed and saw that something wasn’t right so he decided to go after you, offer some help.

You’d noticed him when you passed but chose to ignore his existence, just trying to get home. You’d unfortunately drank a bit too much to drive home safely, but not enough to forget where you lived.

You heard footsteps behind you and took a quick peek over your shoulder. You made eye contact with the man and saw him open his mouth.

Before he could get anything out, you started jogging. “Hey!”

“Hey yourself asshole!” You shout back, tripping over your feet and tumbling to the ground. “Fuck!” Your phone clashes to the ground and your knees skid on the concrete.

“Are you alright?” Buck asks, kneeling beside you.

“Get away you pervert!” You yell, shooing him away.

“I’m- I’m not a pervert!” He says incredulously. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Do I look okay buddy?” You bark at him. He throws his hands up and stands up, taking a step back.

“Can I take a look at your knees?”

“Why so you can see up my skirt? Ow.” You wince as you try to stand. Tears line your eyes but you refuse to cry in front of this man.

“I’m not a pervert.” He reassures. “I’m a firefighter.”

“Where’s your uniform then?”

“I’m off duty.” He smiles, “look, let me just walk you home.”

“I’ll be fine. Please go about your night. Thank you for checking on me.” You let out a small groan as you get to your feet, pushing against the floor. You fix your skirt, the edges brushing your ankles and the front clinging to your burning knees.

“I have a first aid-“

“I am not going up to your apartment with-“

“I really don’t understand why you think I’m a perv. I’m just trying to be helpful.” He sighs. “I’ll bring the kit down and clean your knees and you’ll be on your way.”

“That sounds okay, I guess. Yes, thank you.” You nod and lean against a lamp post. “Please hurry.”

Buck nods triumphantly before running up to his apartment. He pulls his phone out and cancels his Uber. He texts the group that he’s running late.

Minutes later he exits the building again and looks around. He finds you halfway down the street. Buck’s glad he is fast, not as fast as Eddie of course.

You startle as his figure approaches. “Why’d you leave?”

“You were taking too long.” You shrug.

“I barely took 5 minutes.” He shakes his head. “Here, take a seat on those stairs.”

You comply and slam yourself onto the steps. You stretch your legs out and pull your skirt just above your knees.

“So, you’re really a firefighter?”

“Yeah, for a few years now.” He opens the box and sets it beside you as he pulls his pants up a bit to bend down. He rests his knees on the steps beside your legs.

“I’m sorry for being such a jerk to you.” You sniffle and look to your lap. “Bit of a rough night.”

“And it only got rougher.” He laughs as he pulls an alcohol pad from the box. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I shouldn’t have approached you like I did.”

You shake your hand, waving him off. “I wasn’t even supposed to drink this much or walk home alone. I got into a fight with my best friend at the bar. She’s just driving me crazy with her on again and off again boyfriend.”

“And I’m assuming you told her how crazy she is driving you. This is going to sting a bit.” He warns as he opens the pad and begins cleaning your wounds.

“Ow.” You wince and he lets out a soft sorry. “Yeah, I told her that she should either let him go or stay with him and shut the fuck up about it. I’m so sick of hearing about him.”

Buck reaches for two big square bandaids. “She’ll eventually come to her senses. I’ve been in a fight with my best friend before and I was the one that needed to come to my senses.”

You nod as you watch him carefully place the bandaids on your knees. “All good?”

“All good.” He smiles and exhales a breath as he stands. “Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you home? It’s getting pretty late.”

“No, I think I’ll be fine. The floor isn’t spinning as much as before.” You throw your skirt down and use the railing to stand up. Your knees ache and you wobble on your feet as you descend the few steps. “Thank you, for being so patient and kind.”

“It’s really no problem.” He snaps the box shut. “I’d feel better if I walked you. Don’t want you to fall again.”

“You’re persistent.” You smile, the first time that night.

“I’d like to think I’m persuasive.” He smirks.

“Weren’t you on your way out when we first saw each other? Did I completely ruin your plans?”

“Already told my friends I’d be late. What’s a few more minutes?” He bends his arm and holds it out for you.

You hook your arm around his and guide him toward your apartment building. You make small talk about your jobs and he even tells you about his plans for tomorrow with his niece.

You suddenly stop and point to your complex. “This is me.”

“Oh…” He nods, stepping away from you, disappointment evident in voice.

“I really appreciate your help…”

“Buck.”

“Buck.” You smile. “Short for?”

“Oh! Evan Buckley.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“Well it was nice meeting you, Buck. Get home safe.” You wave and walk into your building. Buck watches as you head into the elevator, the moment you turn around and meet his eyes, you bite your lip and look down. The doors close and he smiles to himself before shaking his head and pulling out his phone to call for his ride.

Several days later, Buck can’t get you out of his head. He realized he never even got your name. The small interaction you had left a big imprint on him. Your smile, even though he had only seen it just before you parted, reeled him in.

He knows where you live but not your apartment. He knows if he tries to find you, he’d definitely be living up the name you called him when you first met. He sighs and resigns to believing he’d never see you again.

The 118 had been called to a traffic collision in a residential neighborhood. Maddie dispatched them, informing them of a 6 car crash.

Bobby barks out orders as he shuts the door behind him. Eddie and Buck head to the side of the engine to get tools for extraction and rescue while Hen and Chim check the drivers.

One car, a silver Mazda, theorized to be the one at fault, struck a black truck in the intersection. Two cars attempting to get out of the way had swerved and hit another two cars. One of them being yours. You don’t remember much after your rear end was hit and you were pushed into a stop sign.

“Ma’am! Ma’am, can you hear me?” Chim yells from your passenger seat.

Your head rests against the steering wheel as your vision blurs and your head throbs. You’re slouched over the air bag and groggy with confusion.

“Ma’am, LAFD. You’ve been in a car accident.” Bobby says from the drivers side door. He’s already attempted to open the door with no such luck. The window is down which gives him access to atleast communicate with you.

“What?” You lift your head and groan, finally coming to.

“Cap, she’s bleeding from her eyebrow and temple.” Chim pulls something out of his bag and tries to meet your eyes.

“Car accident?” You cough.

“Yeah, we need to get you out of here so we can take a better look at you. You’ve got some bleeding going on.” Chim urges.

“We’re gonna get you out of here. Eddie, Buck come get this door open. Get her to the ambulance and Chim will meet you there.” Bobby orders before moving on to another car to assess.

Eddie uses his tools to get the door open. Buck leans in to cut your seatbelt off. “Hey, I know you!” Buck exclaims with too much excitement for what’s going on.

“Buck?” You croak. “So, you really are a firefighter?”

“Didn’t believe me?” He smiles, “lift your arms, I’m going to pull you out, okay?”

“No, I thought you just used that line to pick up girls.” You sluggishly lift your arms.

“He does.” Eddie laughs. Buck glares at him before getting you all the way out. He sets you on your feet and takes a look at your face, a hand placed delicately on your shoulder.

“Is it bad?” You ask.

“Could be worse. Could be two scrapped up knees after a fight with your best friend.” He smiles.

You laugh and wince immediately. Buck jumps into action and guides you to the truck. Chim introduces himself and begins his assessment. You’ll need stitches and you have a possible concussion.

Before you can thank Buck for saving you again and before he can get your name, you’re already off to the ER.

“Who was that?” Eddie asks Buck once they get into the engine to head back to the station.

“I don’t know her name but we met a few days ago. She’s why I was late to dinner the other day.” He sighs. “I should’ve asked for her name.”

“I don’t think she would’ve remembered it. She was pretty banged up.” Eddie shrugs.

“Yeah…” Buck mumbles, slumping in his seat.

Bobby looks to Eddie and then back to Buck before turning towards the windshield.

When Chim and Hen get back from dropping you off at the hospital, Buck asks how you were doing.

They exchange looks of confusion. “Why are you so interested?” Hen inquires.

“Nothing, just worried about her is all.”

“You like her!” Chimney screeches. “Who is she?”

“I don’t like her, I barely know her.” Buck shakes his head.

“He doesn’t even know her name.” Eddie adds as he passes by to get to the locker room.

Hen gives your first name. “Didn’t get a last name though.”

Buck repeats your name before smiling. “Thanks.” He runs up to the loft area leaving Chim and Hen confused.

“What is he going to do?” Chim groans.

Unfortunately for Buck, just knowing your first name and how you looked wasn’t enough to find you on social media. And even if he did, would you find him weird for adding you?

Days go by and he’s given up on seeing you again. He’s not even sure if you’d be interested in going out with him if he did see you again and finally made a move. It’s also not like he can make a move when he’s on duty, he’s definitely not that kind of guy anymore.

Something about you though, something is telling him he could be missing out something good. Even if it just turns out to be a friendship.

Buck is over his moping phase at this point. He’s back to his usual self in no time and that means working his ass off.

The team is called to a mall for a malfunctioning elevator. There’s 5 civilians trapped inside, have been for about 45 mins. The doors have opened but the elevator is stuck between two floors.

“Alright, you guys know the drill. Eddie and Buck work to get everyone out safely, Chim and Hen standby for any injuries.” Bobby commands as they enter the mall.

Bobby begins shouting for bystanders to clear the area and give them room to work. He meets with head of mall security to gather information.

Security then takes them to the elevator in question.

Bobby kneels down and sees an older couple, a father with his young son, and a young woman. “LAFD here. Stay calm and we’ll get you out in no time.”

He ushers for Eddie and Buck to come forward. He instructs Eddie to get inside to assist in getting everyone out, Buck stays outside to retrieve each person.

“Okay, we’ll start with you.” He points to the older couple. “Then you.” He points at you.

“Actually, I think you should do them first. He’s pretty scared.” You point to the kid.

“As long as you’re sure.”

You nod and Eddie begins hoisting the old woman up and into the opening. Buck helps her stand on two feet and to the side as she waits for her husband.

“You look familiar.” Eddie says to you as he picks the older man up.

“You work with Buck right? I was in that car crash the other day.” You turn to show your healing eyebrow and temple.

“Yes! Y/n right?” He helps the man out.

“Y/n?” Buck asks having heard Eddie’s exclamation. He then leans down to lend a hand to the man who meets his wife with a hug.

“Hey Buck.” You wave through the small opening, smiling sheepishly. “I must have bad luck, huh?”

“Or good luck since Buck’s always around.” Eddie smirks in Buck’s direction as he hands him the small boy.

They get the father out next and then you’re up. Eddie helps you up and into the opening. Buck grabs both of your hands and helps you stand.

“You’re always coming to my rescue, Buckley.” You dust off your legs and laugh. “At least this time I’m not bleeding.”

“Or driving.” He jokes before getting serious. “How are you feeling by the way? Knees doing alright? Head feeling okay?” He inquires.

“It’s been a rough couple of days but I’m feeling much better.” You smile. “Thank you.”

“Just doing my job.” He nods. Buck maintains his professionalism even though he really wants to talk to you, ask for your number, and flirt but he knows it wouldn’t look good. He sighs and meets your eyes. He can see you’re waiting for more, more conversation or maybe for him to make a move. He doesn’t.

“Well, I’ll leave you to your duties. Thanks, Buck.” You wave, smile dropping as you turn away.

“What was that?” Hen asks as the team heads out.

“Isn’t this the woman you’ve been moping around about?” Chimney asks. “Why didn’t you ask for her number or for her social media?”

“I’m at work.” Buck shrugs.

“Like that’s stopped you before.” Hen snorts. Buck stays quiet and places his equipment back into the engine.

“I forgot my uh bag in there. I’ll be back.” Chin informs the team before jogging back into the mall.

“Didn’t he just put his bag in?” Hen asks Chim.

Chim is lucky enough to find you standing in line at a wetzel pretzel near the elevator you just escaped from.

“Hey!” He calls out.

“Hi?”

You watch as Chim takes a napkin from the counter and pulls a pen out of his pocket. “I think you should have Buck’s number on hand. In case you get hurt or something again.” He hands you a napkin with a number on it.

Before you can even ask any questions, he bolts out of the mall. You laugh, shaking your head.

It isn’t until later that night when you decide to text him.

You: Hey Buck, it’s y/n. Your friend gave me your number. Said I might need it if I get hurt again 😂

It’s several hours later when he finally texts back. Several hours due to finishing his shift, scolding (and thanking) Chim for meddling, and freaking out that he now has a way to contact you.

Buck: hey! I’m sorry about him lol

You: no worries, he’s kinda funny. Seems like a good friend though

Buck: he is, in fact he’s my brother in law

Buck: I’m sorry about earlier. I know I was kind of acting a little weird

You: that’s okay, figured the job was taking a toll on you, long shifts and all

Buck: actually, I had made peace with the fact that I’d never see you or speak to you again so seeing you but not being able to ask you out made me a little sad

You: you wanted to ask me out?

Buck: well yeah, I mean I believe in signs from the universe and we’ve met three times

You: met meaning you’ve saved my ass three times. What do you think the universe is trying to tell me?

Buck: maybe that you should go on a date with a first responder

You: you’re smooth, Buckley

You: let’s say I agree to this date, what’s in it for me?

Buck: well, I can guarantee good company and good food and maybe one day where you don’t have to worry about getting into any trouble

Buck: as long as I’m there, you’re covered

You: hmmm 🤔

You: I guess I would like to step foot out of my apartment without getting injured or trapped somewhere

Buck: so that’s a yes?

You: just name the time and place

From then on you and Buck had been inseparable. You’d been in that gray area of being friends but also dating.

He had told you a lot about his childhood and relationship with his parents. While it was a work in progress, some days were better than others. You had shared your personal traumas and troubles as well. You’d created a close bond that was leading to something more serious.

This morning he had told you that he was going to brunch with his parents then would come over after for your usual movie night.

Buck: they’re driving me nuts already

Buck: it’s like I can’t do anything right

You: I’m sorry

You: where are you?

Buck: that place on La Brea Ave

Buck: wish you were here but then that would mean you’d have to deal with them too

You: I could be?

You: if you really want me too

Buck: wait seriously?

You don’t respond, instead hopping into your car and heading toward the restaurant. You’re not sure entirely what you plan to do but knowing Buck is there and not having a good time, hurts your heart.

Due to traffic, you’re there in about 25 minutes.

You: need some saving? come outside

Buck: ???

You: come outside!!

It’s another 3 minutes before you see Buck exit the front door. His face breaks out into a smile when he sees you.

“What are you doing here?” He wraps his arms under your arms and pulls you up onto your tip toes in a hug. He’s warm and smells syrupy and sweet like pancakes.

“Figured I could rescue you for a change.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders. “You don’t have to stay here with them.” You whisper into his ear. “Let’s leave.”

“You didn’t have to come. I know how you feel about driving right now.” He buries his face in your shoulder.

“I wanted to come and get you. You don’t have to put up with your parents. I know it’s not easy for you.” You squeeze him into you. “All you have to do is say yes and get in the car.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he shakes his head. “If I leave now, I’ll have to hear it later.”

“I could come inside then. I can sit a few tables away?” You offer.

“Or you could come in… as my girlfriend?” He pulls back, watching your face.

“Really?” Your entire face lights up, eyes wide with joy. “Yes! To both.” You laugh.

“You don’t know how much this means to me.” He brings you back into his chest for a hug.

“It’s nothing.” You assure, rubbing your hand over his back.

“No, it’s everything.” He pulls away. “You mean a lot to me.”

“You mean a lot to me to, Buck.” You lace your hands together and intertwine your fingers. “I’ll always be here whenever you need me.”

He smiles and brings your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “Okay, just a warning. They are really on another level today.”

You laugh, “I think I can manage but the moment it gets too much, we’re outta here. Got it?”

He nods, smile wide as his eyes crinkle. “Too much for you or for me?”

“Both?” You shrug, bringing a hand to his face. Your thumb runs over the little crows feet indent near his eyes. “I could always get injured as a way to get us out.”

“You thinking a fall or a car crash?” He pulls you into his side and begins walking inside the restaurant. He places a hand on lower back.

“I’m debating between getting crushed by a fire truck or getting stuck by lightening.” You nudge his side, giggling. Buck glares at you before pinching your butt.

“Ow, you pervert!” You whisper yell. “You’re supposed to be helping others not hurting others.”

“I’ll show you a pervert later and make it up to you.” He winks. Your face flushes with heat before you’re introducing yourself to his parents.

[nightbutterfly09]

Kitten.

Sae x reader. Reader is obsessed with cats and wants one very badly.

He has never heard the end of your bragging about a kitten. Whenever you talked about the things you wanted a cat was always mentioned. Not that you ever asked for much.

“I want a kitten~” You whined and leaned against the headrest. “No” The crimson haired man answered without even looking at you. This situation was way too repetitive for the guy. “Why not?” “Because I said so.” He sighed and continued scrolling on his laptop next to you. 

You grumbled and leaned on his shoulder. “Pretty please?” You whined again to no avail. “Saeeeeee.” This time your tone was much more like a 6 year-old who was confiscated of their favorite toy. This time the prodigy closed his device and put it away. “Stop whining like a toddler” His fingers creeped up to your cheek. Delicate fingers were stroking your face gently. 

“Plus, I already said no, more than a hundred times,” Your lips turned into a pout and you tried taking his hand off your face. He can’t manipulate you into this by touching. “I still want a kitten, I don’t even care what breed, I just want one that’s cute.” You heard his deep sigh.

That could only mean one thing. He’s giving in! You’re winning- or are you? At this point you two know each other better than you know the back of your hands. Maybe he’s trying to deceive you. His lips gave place to a grin. “And why should I get you a pet?” “Not any pet, a cat please- and I just want one.” “Give a better reason and I might just think about it” 

Your eyes sparkled as you unintentionally leaned closer to him. “Really?” He nodded slowly, his fingers tracing down towards your neck. He leaned down and kissed you softly.

 In his view, the way your face lit up was mesmerizing. He unintentionally compared your face when he arrived home today and the face you made right now, and he might get a little jealous overtime.

“Well… maybe  I miss you a lot when you’re away… and I would be less lonely.” He could visibly see you swallow your pride and admit to helplessness. He understood that feeling. Being away from you could be heartbreaking. Specifically when he had to travel overseas.

Now that struck a chord with your boyfriend. Maybe he will reconsider resisting you.

Truth be told, he would have already gotten you a cat if he didn’t know any better. You will focus more on the little pet and your attention will be divided from him. As much as these thoughts pissed him off, he couldn’t help it.

He parked his car in front of the nearby pet shop. Maybe a part of him just wanted to see that happy expression again, the one you’d make every time a kitten is brought up.

As he went inside the owner was already waiting for him and showed him the available kittens. His eyes wandered around. He was sure you’d want all of them and would be unable to decide. No matter how each looked, what they were like you would’ve loved them all equally. 

He found himself staring at a playful kitten in the corner. The little one looked just like the ones you’d show him and obsess over on the internet. Not that you didn’t show him more than a thousand. “That one is Pochi. He was born 1 month ago. He was very shy when we first rescued the guy, but he became very attentive, talkative, playful after getting to know you. Would you like to hold him?” The girl inquired and already got down to grab the kitten. 

As he held onto him the kitten looked distant and shy but regardless something reminded him of you. “I’ll take him then.” At his clarification the girl cheered and smiled brightly. After signing some papers, and telling Sae about the nearest vet and more necessities they walked out. “If I can be of help with anything my number is on the paper.” She giggled. 

At this point he was very tolerating towards the girl, he got checked out multiple times. But that aside it was time to surprise you. He put the kitten in the box he got just now and threw the bag of feeding bowls in the backseat where the cat bed, a small cat tree and a toy was. He knew eventually you would spoil him so he might as well buy it when he was getting home from training.

By the time he was almost home the kitten was in his lap climbing around as he sped down the street. After he parked the car he went inside the building with the kitten and the bag. 

“I’m home.” He said a little louder so you will hear it and slipped out of his shoes. He could hear your footsteps approaching rapidly so quickly he hid everything behind him with his sports bag. “How was training?” You inquired and tiptoed for a kiss.

“Fine, as usual.I got you something- someone” He sighed and let go of you. Confusion smeared all over your face. Then the box with a kitten poking out of it made your eyes widen and your lips curl upwards. “There is no way.” “His name is Potchi but if you want to we can change it.” “You got me a kitten!!” You grinned and your hands immediately reached out to his head. You noticed how he shied away so you were slow and steady with him.

You were still all about how your boyfriend got you a pet. But it was late at night by now so you head to go to sleep. You couldn’t win against him regarding Potchi sleeping on the bed  so you didn’t want to push him to the limit. 

His hands were all over you and you were making out. You could feel him smile into you multiple times.He was on top of you and his fingers went up under your shirt.

That night really felt like the start of something new. You would still miss him if he was away, even if it’s just training, but with Potchi the house won’t feel so lonely. As you two had your moment a loud noise interrupted you. It was a meow from your newfound cat. He seemed to need attention since he jumped on the bed and sat down between your legs.  Your boyfriend sighed and got off you. “If you interrupt us more, I’m going to regret my decisions.” “Heey, don’t say that to him.” You protected your “son” and picked him up. “I was just getting to the good part.” He mumbled which made you blush. But you didn't hang up on him since the kitten laid on your chest.

I promise you, I am working on the series too.. but this one was more fun. Do you like cats? (If you read this I suppose yes) I hope you enjoyed and see you next time!!

[watermelongirl01]

Sweet Rescue - 01

Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: None, I think.

A/N: I hope you like it, please let me know if you do!

Your parents always warned you about the dangers of driving late at night, but did you listen?

It all happened too fast. As you were waiting for the red light to change, out of nowhere you felt a violent impact on the left side of your car, launching you across the empty street. Shattered glasses splattered down your face and you instinctively squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the worst, only opening them again until your car finally came to a stop. 

The front of your car was completely destroyed, which is likely the reason why your legs felt trapped. You tried to move them to get out of the car, but it didn’t work. Your eyesight started to get blurry. You reached up to touch the side of your head and immediately felt a wave of nausea wash over you when you looked at the blood on your fingers.

There was no room to move, your throat felt dry and tight, refusing to let you scream for help. Your phone was nowhere to be found, and with each passing moment, your eyelids grew heavier, as if sleep was pulling you under.

You weren’t sure what the handsome firefighter was trying to tell you, you weren’t even sure when they arrived at the scene, let alone who called for them. 

The only thing you were sure of, was that the man in front of you had the prettiest green eyes you’ve ever seen in your entire existence.

Suddenly, the shock wave left your body, and all the noise came back. The blaring sirens and flashing lights complicate your vision, their brightness finally blinding you. For the first time in what felt like forever, you blinked again. The dryness in your eyes stung a bit, giving you a hint of how long you had been frozen at that moment.

“Sweetheart?” A deep and raspy voice caught your attention. 

“You have pretty eyes.” He flashed a smile at you.

You saw how he gestured for the other firefighters to help him get you out of the wrecked automobile.

“Don’t move your head, sweetheart, my friends here are going to take good care of you.” He pointed at two women who seemed to be the paramedics.

——

“Oh God, I came as soon as I heard.” A worried redhead barged into your hospital room. “Are you okay boss?”

Charlie has been there since you opened the bakery. Doesn’t do a lot of baking but she’s really good at managing business.

“I’m okay, they just wanted me to stay the night to monitor my contusion.” You reassured. “I will be discharged in a couple of hours. Just remind me to never drive at night again.”

The redhead sat on the end of the bed. “What happened?”

“A drunk driver, luckily the street was empty, it was just me, so it wasn’t a big accident.” You quickly explained.

“I heard the firefighters got you out.” She narrowed her eyes. “Pretty? Hot? Spill it.”

You chuckled while shaking your head. “Pretty hot, I would say.”

“We’ll have to thank them to save the best boss ever.”

“Oww, I knew you cared, Charlie.” You said placing a hand on your heart.

“Well of course, if you die I become jobless.”

“Touching words Charlie, they are really heartwarming.”

“No, really boss, I’m glad you’re fine.” She smiled softly, grabbing your hand between hers. “I should come back to the bakery, and make sure Donna hasn’t burned anything, but I will come back in a few hours to get you home, got it?”

“Got it.”

You waved goodbye to her and smiled to yourself. There was nothing much to do but stare at the white, sterile walls around you. No phone to distract you, it was probably destroyed in the accident. You’d been planning to replace it anyway, though not before buying the new refrigerator for the bakery, paying the bills, and—oh right—baking the wedding cake for your aunt, along with cupcakes for that birthday party. Damn it, you were way too busy to be hospitalized.

Before you could spiral further into your thoughts, a throat clearing from across the room caught your attention. You looked up to find a tall, green-eyed man staring at you.

Those eyes

“Hey, I'm Captain Winchester, I don’t know if you remember me, but I —.” You interrupted him.

“The firefighter who pulled me out of the car, I remember.”

He smiled widely. “You do?” He chuckled a little. “I came to drop some patients and found out you stayed overnight, so I came to check on you.”

“Yeah, apparently they wanted to monitor my head injury and the concussion, but they will discharge me in a minute.”

“It was a pretty nasty cut, huh?” He pointed at the baby pink Hello Kitty band-aid covering your tiny wound.

You laughed a little embarrassed. “Hey, it could’ve been dangerous, I almost died out there.”

“Not on my watch, sweetheart.” He leaned on the end of the bed, getting closer to you. You struggled to breathe.

Your hand traveled at the tiny band-aid in your head, suddenly remembering your choice of style.

“You know, they didn’t have normal ones, so they gave me no choice.”

“The hospital didn’t have regular band-aids and forced you to use a Hello Kitty one?”

“Yup, those bastards.” You frowned, not able to hide your smile.

He narrowed his eyes at you, calling your bullshit.

“Fine, I chose it, but it was because it’s the only band-aid that fits my personality.”

He chuckled. “That I can see.”

Captain Winchester stayed for about half an hour, chatting with you. He would have stayed longer, but one of the paramedics—Jo, as you had learned—came looking for him.

“Dean?” You looked up in surprise at the blonde girl standing in your doorway. Captain Winchester seemed equally caught off guard. “The guys are waiting for you. They want to rest.”

“Oh, sorry,” Dean muttered, glancing at his watch in confusion. “I kind of lost track of time.” He turned back to Jo. “This is the lady from the accident. Jo is, well, you know her.” He gestured to you. “Jo’s the paramedic who helped you.”

“I remember. Thank you so much, Jo,” you said, offering a genuine smile.

Jo nodded, her expression briefly softening. “That’s my job, but glad to see you’re okay.” Her focus quickly shifted back to him, barely acknowledging you.

Dean gave you a small smile, his fingers tapping on the bed rails. “I should get going, but I’m glad you’re alright.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, “Need a ride? There’s room on the truck.”

Jo raised an eyebrow at his words, clearly confused by his offer.

“Oh, my friend should be on her way. But I appreciate it, really.” You smiled at him.

He returned the smile, more warmly this time. “Alright. see you around, then.”

“Bye, Captain,” you said, your voice soft as you watched him leave.

——

“See you around? Are you stupid, Dean?” 

“Jeez Sammy, I’m sorry, my mind blocked for a moment, okay?.” Dean looked up at his brother, feeling slightly offended.

“Clearly, how are you gonna see her around if you didn’t even ask for her number.”

“I’ll ask Cas, he’s a doctor there, maybe he can get me her phone number?.”

“No, he can’t, it’s against the hospital policies.” 

“What if I invite him a beer in exchange?” Sam shook his head in disbelief.

“A bribe? That's illegal.”

“No, it’s not.” His fingers grabbed the bacon on his breakfast plate.

“Of course it is Dean.”

“It’s not illegal if you don’t get caught.”

“That’s not how it works, and you know it.” Sam massaged his temples with his fingers.

“Fine! I’ll ask Jo if she can do a follow-up and help me get her number.” The older brother took a bite out of his bacon, shrinking his shoulders. 

“No, bad idea, don’t ask Jo.”

“Why not?” Dean looked at this brother in utter confusion.

“Just don’t, trust me.”

Dean's mouth opened to argue back, but before he could say something a soft voice interrupted him.

“Excuse me? I'm looking for Captain Winchester.”

And there you were, looking beautiful, a different band-aid adorned your forehead, this time it didn’t have a Hello Kitty on it, it was simple in a pretty cherry red color. You were juggling with a bunch of pink pastry boxes, Dean recognized the logo, it was from his favorite bakery.

“You’ve found him.” You smiled when your eyes found his green ones. 

He immediately stepped forward to help you with the boxes, noticing there were at least six of them, each in a different size.

"This is for you," you said, offering him a warm smile. "Well, for all of you," you added, glancing at the curious firefighters who were watching. "It’s just a small way to say thank you for saving my life."

"Oh, sweetheart, you didn’t have to do this," he replied, smiling at you.

“It’s really no trouble,” you said with a shrug, your voice softening. "I didn’t know what to bring, so I grabbed a little bit of everything, pie, cupcakes, cinnamon rolls, cookies, I hope you like it." You clasped your hands together. "It was baked with a lot of love and a big thank you."

"How do you know it was baked with a lot of love?" came from Jo’s voice, echoing from the doorway as she leaned against the frame, arms crossed.

Dean winced, but you didn’t seem bothered by her tone.

"Uh, I baked them." you said, smiling softly.

"Do you work there, sweetheart?" Dean asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Well, kinda," you chuckled lightly. "I actually own the place."

"You own the bakery with the best pies in town?" Dean asked, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice.

"I don’t know about the best pies in town," you said with a small laugh, "but yeah, I own it."

"Awesome." He said.

"Excuse my brother." A deep voice said from behind him. A tall man with long hair stepped forward and offered his hand with a smile. "He really does love your bakery. I’m Lieutenant Sam Winchester."

You shook his hand, handing him a piece of paper as you did. He glanced at it, looking slightly confused.

"I wasn’t sure what would be enough," you explained, suddenly feeling a little shy. "But being there during the accident, seeing all of your faces, it just made me feel like I had another chance. So, I wanted to give you something to show how much I appreciate what you did for me."

You took a deep breath, watching his expression carefully. "For the next year, you can go to my bakery and get anything you want. My treat."

Sam blinked, surprised. "What? That’s too much, Are you sure?"

You nodded with a smile. "Yes, absolutely. I’ve already talked to all my employees. If I’m not there, they’ve been instructed to let you take whatever you want every morning. No charge."

"That’s really kind of you," a voice said from behind you. "We really appreciate it."

"Sweetheart, this is Chief Singer, Bobby Singer." Dean said, introducing you.

"A pleasure, Chief. You have the finest firefighters in town." you said with a smile.

Bobby grinned. "That I know." he replied, clearly proud.

You glanced at Dean, suddenly reminded of your to-do list. "I really should get going. I need to take care of some things for the insurance company."

"Let me walk you out, sweetheart," Dean offered.

You nodded, gathering your things as you made your way toward the door, stopping to say goodbye to everyone in the room.

"Thanks for the pie, beautiful," Dean said teasingly.

You felt your cheeks flush. "Thanks to you, for rescuing me and for checking on me."

"Always," he said, his smile softening. "I’ll be there tomorrow, first thing in the morning."

"I’ll make sure to be there."

"You better." he said with a playful grin.

And he stood there watching her leave the fire station,  her red high heels clicking against the gray concrete floor and hips moving side to side as she walked out.

“Oh my god, you really like her.” A voice coming from behind him said.

“Shut up, Sammy.” 

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s been a year already.” The younger sibling looked at him, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “It’s okay to move on.”

Dean simply nodded.