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satowooo · 1 year ago

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i. imgonnagetyouback

The one and only son of the Gojo clan had fallen quite hard, completely and utterly, to a lowly woman who came from the dirt, and got his heart broken by her. Years had passed, he was still as angry since the day you left, but he only wanted you back.

contents. modern au, gojo satoru x reader, angst, not proofread.

Whether I'm gonna curse you out or take you back to my house, I haven't decided yet but I'm gonna get you back

next chapter

It was pathetic. The sight of Gojo Satoru, a well-respected son of the Gojo clan, was down on his knees right in front of you, begging you to stay, a daughter of a mere servant.

It made him look pitiful and weak, a miserable prince who had his heart shattered by a low class woman like you. But he didn't really give it that much of a thought, ever since he first laid eyes on you. He didn't care what people might've said from the very first time, and he proved it to you a million times as he stubbornly and desperately showed you how much he loves and adores you. So, begging down on his knees is not that much of a deal now, no?

“Stand up, please.”

But you were firm, closing your eyes as you let out a shaky breath. You hated seeing him like this, but you were left with no other choice. Your love for him could risk even the dangers of your life, and you were sacrificing him to save him.

“I do not wish to be with you any longer, Young Master.” You said, uttering his title in a whisper. “What we had was wrong. It was a mistake on my side. And I thought I was in love with you, but it was just a pathetic infatuation and I realised that another man best suits me, and it's not you.”

Your words were nonstop, every single thing that you uttered was shattering his heart into pieces. But Satoru furiously shakes his head, his hands trembling on your lap as his forehead falls on your knees.

“T-that’s not… T-that's not true…”

You remembered everything from that day. Every little detail, every word, every touch, every action, of what had happened stayed forever in your mind. It never fails to shatter you. To make you cry every single time that you thought about him as you lie in the confinements of your small room.

“I have done what you asked for. What else do I need to do–” A whimper escaped your lips as a hand flew over your cheek. Breathing heavily, you felt the sting on your skin as you looked back at the person who had been the cause of your pain.

“Pack your things, and never show your face again.”

Gojo Satoru haunted your dreams and nightmares. He managed his way in your heart, and refused to leave. He was the ghost of your tragic love story, you could only wish that you never should've picked up the pen. It's already been two years since you left, and even until now, your heart only beats for one man and it will always be for Satoru.

So what are you going to do when he comes up at your door, claiming what used to be his?

It all happened so fast that your head can't fathom how you ended back to the place of your nightmares. The Gojo clan's mansion. The place where it all started between the two of you.

Every corner of this place was filled with memories of you and Satoru, all the good and bad. But what you remembered most was the torture, the consequences you had faced for falling in love. You felt like all your scars were slowly tearing apart, opening the wound that was almost healed as you looked back to the man who stood in front of you.

You never should've been back in this place.

“I expect you to work immediately.” Satoru's voice was different. It was laced with authority and demand, not the sweet ones that you remember back when he was yours. “Remember, your family is in the palm of my hands. Try to escape, and you'll face the consequences.”

His eyes looked at you with anger, a pent up emotion that he bottled up all these years. His hands were balled on a fist by his sides, almost trembling, but he wouldn't let you see just how much you still have an effect on him.

Right now, all he feels is anger and hatred for what you did. For leaving him. For running off with another man. For loving him only to break his heart. For letting him hold on to your empty promises.

For those two years, he only loathed you and he's not going to be a forgiving man, he'll make sure you regret. He'll make you beg on his knees, the way he did for you.

“I expect you to be in my office in five.”

Now, you're back to square one. Working as his maid was already bad enough back then, so what's going to happen now that you're back to serve him again?

You can't help but notice how much he changed. Somehow, you can tell that he was still the same, only that he was only mad at you. It was obvious already how he's showing indifference only to you but not to anyone else. His bubbly personality that used to welcome you with warm embraces is now replaced with an angry demeanour of a man who cold-heartedly took you away from your family and took you back to the house where you suffered.

How unfair.

This was not your Satoru.

As soon as Satoru turned around and left you standing, he heaved out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. His heart felt like it was trying to escape from his chest. For the first time since you left, he finally felt his heart beating again.

All throughout those years that you were gone, he relentlessly looked for you. Trying to search your face in unfamiliar places, sometimes getting himself into trouble when he mistakes someone for you. Everyday, he was turning angrier and angrier when you never showed up, while all he needed was proper answers and explanations. He hated all the memory that you had left, and how it tore him to pieces that all of it was just a lie.

He couldn't believe you had the nerve. A woman like you with no name for herself, telling him that a relationship with him was just a mistake as you sought another man. Gojo Satoru was everything anyone could have asked for, so how dare a woman like you? How dare a woman he loved…

Everything comes crashing down into his mind once again. From the first time he saw you and how you've caught his eye. His heart starts to beat frantically, his breath caught into his chest, his tongue tied together. Satoru slumps into his chair as he closes his eyes, letting the memory sink in.

“Who is that woman?” Satoru asked an older servant, seeing your unfamiliar face walking around the garden in a maid uniform as he stared down at you from his window.

“That's [M/L/N]’s daughter. She's here to take her place while her mother is recovering.” The servant answered as she poured him tea.

Satoru watched as you walked quietly, your movements looked calculated and careful. He watched your finger touch a ragged cloth, gracefully cleaning the dirty tables.

From afar, he can see how your skin looked soft and pale. You were a bit thin and looked weak. He can only assume that he could break you with one twist.

Your face didn't have any emotion in it which intrigued him. Even your lips were downturned, like you hated every second of working in his place. You caught his attention in a matter of seconds, a curiosity growing inside him while he watched your every move.

He noticed the way your mood changed when his family's dog, a small golden retriever, came running to you. A smile formed into your face and he swore he could feel all the flowers blooming all around the place. Everything seemed to have lighted up, his heart began to drum in his chest as you kneeled down to the dog, petting and rubbing the cute animal between your hands.

What's so fascinating about you?

He swallowed hard. Satoru felt like a teenage boy realising that he was staring a little too hard. He felt like a stalker for watching you, shivering at his thoughts.

But he wanted to meet you. Something was pulling him to be close to your presence. A magnetic force was drawing him to come near, and it was the very first time that he ever felt like this.

But he'll take his time first. For now, he's going to settle on just watching you from afar, memorising every detail of you, until he is ready.

A knock on the door woke Satoru back to his senses. He straightened up on his seat, erasing the memories out of his head as he coughed. “Come in.”

But how can Satoru completely forget?

You walked inside in your maid uniform, the same dress that you used to wear, and it only took Satoru a matter of seconds for all your pasts to remind him of how much he loved you. He felt a pain in his chest, and for a moment, he wanted to fall back on his knees and beg for you to love him again. But even you had changed.

Satoru was also back to square one. He looks at you, reminded of the first time he had seen your face. The lack of emotion, the frown, the gaze that used to intimidate him, and the wall you had built between the two of you was palpable.

“Take a seat.” Satoru gestured over the chair in front of his table.

He watched you carefully as you stepped inside his office, striding forward with a sense of hurry as you obviously refused to seat. You stood in front of him, an emotion in your eyes that he can't seem to read.

“I have to get back to my family–”

“They are fine.” Satoru immediately cut you off, his voice ringing over your ear. He looked at you with a glare, venom laced in his voice as he says, “You are bound to stay here, as I said so–”

“You can't keep me here!”

Your scream shocked the both of you, but Satoru kept a straight face as he stood up slowly. He chuckled with malice, staring at your helpless state.

“What makes you say that I can't?” He smirked. “I own you now. Every single thing that's yours is also mine, even your family.”

Your eyes fell to the floor, your hands trembling at your side. Your knees felt weak underneath his gaze, burning and crushing your soul.

Everything he said was true. You were in so much debt ever since you left the Gojo mansion, your family almost falling apart if he didn't show up to take you. And now he's claiming every single bit of what's yours, not leaving a single piece behind.

Satoru made it clear when he took you here. He'll pay for everything to save you and your family. Your mother's hospital bill, your father's gambling debts, your brother's education, their food, house, electricity, and all their livings, because you couldn't pay them off by yourself.

So now you're trapped. He's got you wrapped around his fingers.

“You need me, Y/N.” You closed your eyes at his voice, shaking your head in denial. “You can't afford to live without me, and that's the truth.”

It was the truth, Satoru taking her away from her old life.

You were doing just fine when he was gone. But now you don't know anymore.

this is the part 1 of my mini (?) gojo series! i hope you'd like it and anticipate for what's next to come 🥺🫶🏻 [M/L/N] also stand for "mother's last name" in case you didn't knowww ^.^ I also hoped you understood the flashbacks and such.

this is just a prologue of the main story, sooo the real story starts at part 2.

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luludeluluramblings · 7 months ago

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The Wedding Planner (Blurb)

Neglected!Reader ends up planning Bruce and Selina's wedding. The wedding goes great. Reader's life does not.

GN!Reader

You should've know being a Wayne would come back to bite you in the ass. Even though you had chosen to remain ignorant to the comings and goings of the family since you had moved out, for your own peace of mind of course. It had still managed to come back and take a massive bite out of your ass.

When you had moved out of the manor and started trying to make it on your own you luckily had some wealthy and non-wealthy friends. Friends that were more than happy to let you couch surf. Or, guest room surf in some cases. Your big break came when one of those dear friends had asked you to plan their wedding. You had accepted graciously, happy to help and wanting to thank them for all they had done.

It was stressful and eventful. There were tears, a little bit of blood, a shit ton of lace, and a mountain of flowers. But, God, was it satisfying. Watching your own plan coming together. The way you had prepare for everything that could have possibly gone wrong on such an important day. The tide pens, the red wine, the back up camera for the photographer. You had tamed the volatile chaos into a gorgeous and memorable symphony.

After that, you had found your calling. It wasn't anything heroic or noble. But, it was human and all you. And, you were damn good. It wasn't long until you had built a reputation of planning The best wedding in Gotham on any sort of budget. And, all the while, that forever distant family of yours left you the fuck alone. In fact, they had forgotten all about your existence. Which you didn't exactly mind. Avoiding the bat-shit, you called it.

Still, it came back to haunt you, eventually. Things rarely stay dead in Gotham it seemed. To bad you weren't in the business of planning funerals or your might have known that.

It all started when you took on a prestigious client that made you sign NDA after NDA before the first meeting. (Your first hint.) One of Gotham's richest and wealthiest your newly hired secretary had told you. (Your second hint.) You meet with the fiancé of this wealthy individual. A lovely and vivacious woman of sharp taste and wit by the name of Selina Kyle. Who had told you her future spouse was quite the sweetheart despite his serious demeanor. (Final hint, your out.)

Imagine your surprise when your own father comes striding into your office giving your client a kiss before turning to face you. In a way you felt proud of how you could easily read the shock on Bruce Wayne's face even after years of never speaking to him. When you plaster on a professional smile - having perfected the professional persona over your years apart - and hold out your hand for him to shake, it fills you with satisfaction to watch him falter. You damn near giggle when you go over the guest list and notice your name nowhere on it. You saw the way Ms. Kyle shot him suspicious looks at how shaken he seemed at meeting you.

You'd have paid to be a fly on the wall when she finally confronted him about it after they left the meeting. You'd still pay to be a fly now. Because if you were going to be trapped in a web, you'd rather be trapped in one that would kill you quick. Not in this web that was bound to slowly choke you and move your limbs like some macabre puppet.

Suddenly, after that fateful meeting, the family that had long forgotten you it now trying to burrow their way into the life you have built for yourself. And, they don't care how many holes they leave in it. As long as they had the pieces of you in their own lives, nothing else mattered.

Not like you didn't break your heart years ago trying to give them those same pieces they’re now tearing you apart for. Only for them to have been tossed aside until you picked them back up and finally moved on.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Sooooooo, I know I haven't posted much, but I ended up coming up with a few other Reader concepts and they have taken up most of my headspace. But, this was an idea based of of Smalltown!Reader. (The oc Smalltown!Reader is based off of always ends up a wedding planner as a back up plan.) Which I have the rough draft of Part 8 written for. I swear it's coming.

A/N: I should also start cleaning out my ask box. And, my drafts. (Been throwing things in there for later.)

A/N: I feel like I should expand on this at some point. Might be something to consider.

#Weddingplanner!Reader #yandere batman #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #platonic batfam #batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #platonic batfamily #yandere dc

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ssahotchnerr · 10 months ago

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i think it would be funny if y/n and aaron went to go pick ellie and jack up in the morning and JJ and pen were super cheeky about their night together.

the following morning

stop i adore that hehe that's so funny cw; fem!reader, dad!aaron, slight allusions to sex (nothing explicit), mentions of food, teasing banter and overall domestic fluff <3

on hiatus - part one

As soon as JJ opened the front door, the smug look on her face was the first noticeable thing; a knowing, devious glint in her eyes, eyebrows raised.

Aaron internally face palmed. "Don't start."

"Well look who it is. Enjoy your night?" She inquired amusingly, giving the both of you a quick look-over, Aaron more specifically. "You must've, you don't look nearly as tense as you did yesterday."

"Aaron? Tense?" You teased, grabbing his bicep and giving it an affectionate squeeze. Due to the polo he wore, you could easily feel his solidly built muscles. "Unheard of."

"You should've seen him." JJ allowed you both the room to enter, you closed the door behind. "He was begging us to take the kids off your hands."

"I wouldn't call it begging." Aaron defended himself, rolling his eyes to mask his itching smile. Guilty. "I simply asked if any of you were able to babysit."

"I don't know. The 'just a few hours, please' in the most desperate voice seemed a lot like begging to me." JJ quipped back, a smirk forming on her face.

"It was nice." You lovingly grinned at Aaron, still in the afterglow from the night before - you could feel the more-heightened-than-usual infatuation rippling throughout yourself. "Really, really nice."

"Did the two of you make a date night out of it?"

"No, we just stayed home."

"Oh I see, so right down to business-"

"Okay." Aaron blurted out, reentering himself into the conversation, his gaze moving down sheepishly for a moment. His expression took on a more serious look when lifted, "How were they?"

JJ casually crossed her arms, her mouth pursing nonchalantly. "Fine."

"How was Ellie?" You asked, your hand moving to Aaron's. "Was she difficult?"

"Not at all," JJ walked further in, the two of you followed. "She shed a few tears at bedtime, and I had some trouble getting her down. But once she was, she was fine. Especially once a movie was on."

"And she didn't keep the whole house up?" Aaron asked jokingly, but there was some seriousness within his words. With Ellie, you never knew.

"I think the boys wore her out honestly." JJ chuckled, her expression softening. "They were out in the yard for a bit. Poor thing, her little legs were trying their absolute hardest to keep up."

The three of you entered the kitchen, where breakfast was occurring. Ellie spotted the two of you first, the pigtails on her head absolutely disheveled and falling out from sleep. Her face lit up, "Mommy, Daddy!"

She scrambled out of her chair, her spoon clanging onto the table and rushing to Aaron's side.

"Hi Ellie Bellie." Aaron hoisted her up into his arms, giving her a smile. "Did you have fun?"

Ellie nodded enthusiastically, "Auntie Penny painted my nails." She stuck her hand out, displaying her fingers for him proudly. "They're pink."

"I see."

"We match," Penelope added from where she was also sat at the table; still in her pajamas, adorned in a colorful robe with a silk sleeping mask on her forehead. "Needless to say."

You wrapped your arms around Jack from behind, resting your chin on the top of his head. "How about you Jackers, have a good time?"

"Uh huh. We played soccer, then Henry and I built a whole Lego town. It had a park, neighborhoods, and we built where Dad, Aunt JJ and Aunt Penelope work too." Jack answered after a swallow of cereal, using his spoon to swirl around the marshmallows left in the milk. "We haven't taken it down yet if you wanna see."

"Um, of course we do." You gave him a squeeze, causing him to laugh. "And you were good for your Aunt JJ?"

He nodded, "I helped clean up the pizza we had for dinner."

"Cleared off the table without me even asking." JJ added, "Super helpful and sweet. As was Miss Ellie." She tossed Ellie just an equal grin - who bashfully hid her face in the crook of Aaron's neck.

After breakfast, Legos were viewed, all was cleaned and packed up, (Penelope also insisted on doing Ellie's hair), the Hotchners were on their way. Jack had practice in a few hours, and the usual Saturday errands were awaiting.

"Thank you again." Aaron told JJ, retrieving the stuffed bunny from Ellie, which she had just shoved at his thigh for him to hold, running out after her brother. "We owe you big time."

"Anytime, they're both always welcome, excuse needed or not. Although, Will and I may need to strike the same favor in return."

"Of course." You embraced her thankfully, juggling a tad due to Jack and Ellie's overnight bag in your hand - Aaron grabbed it from you before it could slip from your grasp. "Just let us know."

"So, are you ready to sleep in your own bed tonight?" Aaron asked Ellie, placing her bunny on her lap and strapping her into her carseat. He peered over at Jack too, ensuring his seat belt was fastened as well.

"Nope."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

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dollyhao · 3 months ago

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lawyer!abby x client!reader (married to man but dude is barely mentioned, promise. fingering, tension, im not good at these lol, also don’t even know if this is good or not :/, let me know)

can you guys believe i couldn't find any buff women in suits...? maybe i wasn't looking hard enough...

when abby decided she wanted to be a lawyer, she thought she was gonna be some bad ass attorney that puts all the bad guys away. what she never expected was that she would end up dealing with messy divorces. but no complaining on her part; the pay is good and the mess is entertaining.

But when a woman with the bright smile on her face walks into her office she's intrigued, no one walks in here so happy. she stands up from behind her desk to shake your hand, "Good Afternoon, I'm Abby Anderson. It's nice to meet you."

your still smiling at her and you grab her hand, "It's nice to meet you; seems like your gonna be my saving grace." abby laughs and gestures for you to sit. "Would you like to start by telling me your situation?"

you hum and your smile slips a little, "ive been married for the last 7 years and i just wasn't happy anymore." you shrug a little. abby waits for you to continue but you don't so she hums. she can't help when her eyes trace over your features, you don't look like someone who was married for 7 years, you look so youthful and beautiful.

"no details?" abby gives you a teasing smirk as she looks at you. you giggle a little, "hmm, my ex-husband is a rich man who thought i was gonna cry and beg him to stay after i found out he cheated. but i didn't and asked for a divorce." abby hums writing some details down, "so what are you looking to get out of this?" abby puts her pen down, watching the way your lips lift into a smirk. "i want to take him for all he has."

abby smiles back at you standing and coming to stand in front of you, "i can see a blossoming relationship coming from this case," abby holds her hand out again to shake your hand. you smile and bite your lip before taking her hand and shaking it.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

you and abby spend a good amount of time together settling things for a divorce settlement. you both have gotten so close, an unspoken connection has been building between the two of you; like abby's hand on the small of your back, coffee 'meetings' where you guys don't talk about the case at all, standing a little too close to each other and more unnecessary touches.

it all reached a boiling point when you and abby were sitting in her office after hours when abby pulls out some wine and glasses she keeps behind her desk, you should've left an hour ago but you and abby weren't ready to leave each other.

your sipping from you glass while you listen to abby talk about her college days. you kick your shoes off stretching your legs in-between you and abby on the couch you were lounging on. abby had her blazer off, shirt unbuttoned dangerously low and and sleeves rolled up to her elbows. she looked so good sitting there with her legs spread and her hair falling over her shoulders.

your thoughts are getting hazy when abby stops talking, since you haven't responded to anything she's said in the last 5 minutes. she looks over at you and bites her bottom lip gently. seeing the way the moon shines through her window and lights up your face, she wants you closer.

"are you alright?" she whispers scooting closer to you, picking up your legs and placing them in her lap. "mhmm," your eyes fix on the way abby's lip is still in between her teeth. "i could sit and listen to you all day," you match her tone, scooting closer to play with the ends of her hair.

"i could watch you all day." she mumbles putting her hand on the back of your neck leaning closer to you, bumping your noses together. you close the gap between the two of you, kissing her lips with all the tension that's been building for the last couple months. abby reciprocates with just as much passion; hand in your hair the other on your waist trying to get you closer. you push at her shoulders even though your lips chase hers.

you know you shouldn't do this, not now atleast. you pull away from her watching her as you catch your breath, her lips pink and swollen looking like they're ready to get back on you. "i should go..." you whisper.

abby looks into your eyes, "if that's what you want," you nod and pull your legs off her lap. she nods, "let me take you home." you nod again watching her grab her coat and keys. you stand and do the same walking out the building and to abby's car.

when she pulls in front of your house, she looks over at you waiting for you. you turn towards her, leaning over the console to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth then directly on her lips. "thank you." you tell her before getting out and walking to your front door.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

on the day your divorce was finalized and you successfully milked you husband dry of his money, you and abby were pure smiles and grins as you rode back to her office. abby said she wants to take you out to dinner tonight to celebrate and you agree, but all you can think about is thanking her for all she has done in so many different ways.

this woman who has been nothing but gentle and attentive to you since she's met you, has melted your heart in a way no one ever has. you want her in a way you never have your husband or anyone else. but you might be thinking too much into this; this might be nothing but two people who worked close together who are obviously attracted to one another.

when you entered her office, you walk over to her desk and lean against it. “i can’t believe you did it,” you say for the second time since you left your ex and his lawyer. abby comes to stand in front of you smiling, "i didn't do much, your husband and his idiot lawyer made it too easy." you stare into her eyes before your eyes flick down to her lips. "i want to thank you."

“you don’t need to do that.” she licks her lip, caging you in as she puts her hands on her desk. her breath fans over your face as you have to restrain yourself from leaning forward and kissing her.

abby turns you around pressing you against her desk, "you've been an angel throughout all this," she whispers in your ears, "i wanna thank you," she kisses the back of your neck. she pushes you down across her desk, untucking your blouse from your skirt and pushing it up to expose your bare back. you shiver at her cold hands as they run across your skin and jump when you feel her lips press a kiss to the base of your spine.

"abby, touch me please." you turn your head to look at her, unzipping your skirt and letting it fall to the ground. "what's the rush? i thought you were supposed to be thanking me," her eyes are locked on your lacy pink panties as her big hands grip your ass. "i-i am. i just want-" you whine and jump when her hand collides with your ass. "then be patient."

you nod as abby's thumb runs up and down the wet fabric covering your dripping cunt. you whine pushing back against her, she moves your panties to the side and slips two fingers into your tight walls, feeling you tighten immediately.

you moan, jaw slack, her name caught in your throat as she fucks you on her fingers. "now what do you say?" she reaches her hand to grab your hair in her grip pulling your body against hers. you brace your hands on her desk as you fuck yourself against her fingers.

"thank you! t-thank you," a long drawn out moan falls from your lips as she uses her fingers to scissor your pussy open. abby's breathing is getting heavy as she falls more and more into the intoxicating moment; the look on your face, the feeling of you wrapped around her, the sounds your making as your orgasm builds.

"i want you. i-i want to have you all to myself." abby whispers against your sweaty neck. you clench hard around abby as you moan out, "ah, yesss! yes please." you reach your hand to hold the arm thats hitting just the right spot, overstimulating you. your orgasm subsides and you lay back on her desk. "you good beautiful?" abby picks up your skirt, pulling you up and zipping your skirt back up then tucking your stained panties into her pocket. abby moves the hair out your face with a smile and you nod.

that ended up not being the last time you've fucked abby in her office, she's up and moved you in her house where she fucks you in the shower in the morning then makes breakfast for you after. and divorcing your husband continues to be the best decision you've made.

#wlw #lesbian #the last of us #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #i 🫶🏾 abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson smut

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attleboy · 1 year ago

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okay so it's been a bit... sorry about that??? ^-^; here's a quick doodle dump to make up for it with a brief (for me) explanation of where i've been at the end <3

some things that were meant as ask responses but i never felt like posting

scattered bits from a lore headcanon comic i have no plans of finishing... set when jax first joined and ragatha was still new, before shit happens (queenie abstracts) and things got worse for them...

idk i like thinking about the possibilities and i like it when characters start out hopeful and get it beaten out of them so i'm giving jax and ragatha that treatment in my head :)

here's the "behind the scenes" stuff i mentioned in the second of my raggedy ann tadc crossover posts

and here's me giving pomni varying levels of a hard time

old aggie board stuff

one of my first ragatha and pomni drawings on the left (nov 2023) and a lil redraw on the right.... (mar 2024) pls... don't mind my old ragatha design i didn't know what i was doing

and for those who like my sona, doodles inspired by the mafia roleplay/au(?) that's been around... not actually part of it, but i was part of a mafia roleplay myself back in 2020 so idk, consider it an acknowledgement of my roots :D

OKAY so where i've been... well at first it was a normal break, but then i figured i'd extend it until finals were over so i wouldn't get distracted! probably should've given some warning but ehhh i got busy fast and getting to go off grid for a bit was relaxing :)

anyway i'm all done so i'm back more or less??? still fatigued from studying for weeks straight so idk when i'll pick up the pen again but that'll be soon i hope... and bc i drafted this before it was posted YES i've seen the episode 2 trailer!!! very cool i'm very excited!! gonna try and get ep 2 hype art out before it drops!! :D

#missed you silly people in my computer i hope you are well :)#the amazing digital circus #tadc #pomni #jax #queenie #kinger #ragatha #sona art #my art #chompni #checkmates

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hikakuriyyu · 3 months ago

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hii, I was wondering if you could write about this: The Scream boys discover that the reader has a diary dedicated to pretty much everything about them.

I love your writing.

Scream men discover your diary about them (headcanon)

⁎ warnings: fluff, maybe suggestive ? female!reader. not proof read.

⁎ summary: how (modern!au) Billy, Stu, Mickey, Charlie and Ethan would react if they found out you loved them through your diary.

⁎ author note: hey long time no see ! sorry for being gone so long but i just didn't know what to write. but we have a request ! thank you anon <3 ! im working on another request on tension, and ill be posting more frequently. i might also start posting jjk fics.

Billy Loomis

Billy never meant to find it. He was just in your room, looking for your phone you asked him to give you, when the little book caught his attention. Your name was scrawled on the cover, and curiosity killed the cat. He figured he could read a few pages. Harmless, right ?

But then he saw his name. Over and over. Descriptions of his eyes, the way his voice made you blush, how you caught yourself staring at his lips when he spoke. How you wanted him but didn't know if he'd ever feel the same.

Billy's grip on the diary tightens. His heart is racing, but there's something different in his eyes now. Something softer, something deeper. A slow smirk froms at his lips as he shuts the book, fingers tracing over the cover.

By the time you walk in, he's sitting on your bed. Diary in hand, head tilted slightly. ''Didn’t know I had a fan.'' he murmurs, voice smooth but teasing.

Your stomach drops. ''Billy-'' but he cut you off before you could finish.

He stands, closing the distance between you, the diary still in his hand. ''You should've told me.'' his fingers brush under your chin, tilting your gaze up to meet his. ''Would've saved you all that writing.''

His smirk deepens as he leans into your ear, voice barely above a whisper. ''Now, why don't you show me how you feel ?''

Stu Macher

Stu wasn't even looking for anything. He was just messing around in your room, picking things up, putting them back in the wrong place. until he found the little book tucked away. He normally wouldn't care, but something about it screamed secrets, and well… he wasn't one to ignore a mystery.

Flipping through the pages, he expected dumb doodles or boring notes. What he didn't expect was his own name written over and over, surrounded by little hearts and messy confessions about how much you liked him. How his dumb jokes made your day, how you couldn't stop thinking about his smile, how you wished he’d see you the way you saw him.

His eyes widen, lips parting before stretching into a slow, mischievous grin. Oh, this was golden. When you finally walk in, he's sprawled across your bed, diary open in his hands. ''Awww baby, you got a crush on me ?'' he coos, kicking his legs playfully.

Your heart stops. ''Stu, what the hell ?''

He's up in a flash, closing the book and waving it in front of you. ''You should've told me !'' He grins, stepping closer, voice dipping just a little. ''I love being wanted, y'know.''

His arms wrap around you before you can snatch the diary away, pulling you against him with a dramatic sigh. ''Guess I gotta keep you now.'' he teases, his lips brushing your ear.

Mickey Altieri

Mickey didn't meant to find it. Really.

He was just looking for a pen when his fingers brushed against the little book tucked away in your drawer. Curiosity got the best of him. He wasn't the type to ignore something that screamed ''private.'' And when he saw his own name scrawled across the pages, paired with shy confessions and hopeless little daydreams ?

This was interesting.

By the time you walked in, he was leaning against your desk, flipping through the pages with an amused smirk. ''Well, well… this is adorable.''

You freeze. ''Mickey, put that down.'' you say in a worried tone.

He hums, tapping his fingers against the diary. ''Didn't take you for the hopeless romantic type.'' he muses, eyes dark with something unreadable. ''Crushing on me like this? Kinda cute.''

You lunge for it, but he's faster, raising it just out of reach. His free hand snakes around your waist, effortlessly pulling you closer. ''Should I read more ?'' he teases, tilting his head. “Or maybe…” His voice lowers, fingers brushing your cheek. ''You could just tell me all the things you wanna do with me. In detail.''

Your face burns, and Mickey chuckles, finally closing the book and handing it back. ''Relax, sweetheart.'' His lips ghost against your temple before he pulls away, flashing you a wicked grin. ''I was gonna make you mine anyway.''

Charlie Walker

Charlie didn't meant to snoop.

Okay… maybe a little.

He was just looking around while you were in the bathroom, skimming through your books, when something wedged between them caught his eye: your diary. He hesitated for two seconds before carefully pulling it out.

And then he saw his name. Page by bage surrounded by little hearts, and flustered ramblings about how much you liked him.

His breath hitched.

You walked back in just in time to see him staring at the open pages, his fingers trembling slightly. Your eyes widen. ''Charlie...!''

He immediately closed the diary, gripping it tightly in his hands like it was something precious. His face was red, his lips parted like he wanted to say something, but all he could do was look at you with wide, stunned eyes.

''I-I wasn't trying to snoop,'' he blurted out. ''I just-'' He swallowed hard, exhaling shakily. ''You like me...?''

The silence stretched between you. You were mortified, but Charlie… Charlie looked... overwhelmed ? Like he didn't know what to do with himself.

Then, suddenly, he let out a breathless, nervous laugh. ''God, you have no idea how long I've wanted to hear that...''

Before you could respond, he surged forward, wrapping his arms around you in a tight, desperate hug. His face buried in your shoulder, and his voice was almost shaky as he whispered, ''Please tell me this isn't a dream.''

Ethan Landry

Ethan wasn't snooping.

He was just sitting on your bed, waiting for you to grab something from the kitchen when he noticed your diary sitting there, slightly open. His curiosity got the best of him, so he peeked. Just a little.

And then he saw his name.

His heart stopped. Then it started beating again. Twice as fast.

Flustered, he yanked his hands away like the pages had burned him, his face heating up so fast he thought he might explode.

That was his name... with hearts around it. Did you really write about him like that ? About how cute you thought he was ? About how much you wanted him to notice you more ?

Ethan felt like his brain short-circuited. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air, like he couldn't decide whether to close the diary or keep reading.

Then the door opened.

He jumped about a foot in the air, nearly knocking the diary off the bed. You frowned, glancing at his face. Completely red, ears tinted pink, lips parted like he'd just run a marathon.

''…Ethan ? What's wrong ?''

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Then, in the smallest, most flustered voice imaginable, he mumbled, ''So... uh… y-you like me ?''

You frown. Your eyes darted to your diary, realization hitting like a truck.

Ethan fidgeted, hands nervously gripping his hoodie sleeves, staring at you like he was terrified but also hopeful.

And then, when you didn't say anything fast enough, he let out a tiny, breathless laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

''So that's why you 'accidentally' came in my room while i was changing...''

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halfmoonaria · 1 year ago

Text

testify

pairing: cairo sweet x reader

summary: you expose cairo to the truth she's been trying to escape from.

words: 1.1k

warnings: language & parental issues

"Cairo, What the fuck are you doing?"

Your voice was cold, sharp, and if it wasn't for Cairos focus on the pen moving in her notebook, she would've been startled. Your voice had never sounded so, angry.

Although Cairo couldn't help but let the rage within her continue to simmer and bubble.

"I'm completing my admissions essay." She stated simply, trying not to direct the anger towards you.

However, you had rage raising within you as well, and you had no plan on trying to control it. Her ignorance and lack of empathy was starting to piss you off, and you knew that she was aware of that.

"Don't act foolish Cairo." You spit, walking closer towards her ginormous bed, getting a closer look on the cigarette in her hand; a habit she had picked up to impress your current English teacher. "It doesn't suit you."

She didn't dare to look up, not until you brought up his name. "What are you doing to Mr. Miller?"

Cairo looked up at the mention of the teacher, and it was at that you noticed the trails of mascara stains under her eyes.

Her gaze didn't look regretful, it looked full of a burning desire for revenge.

"I'm testifying against him, infront of the school board." She stated simply, putting the notebook and pencil beside her to sit up, her legs hanging from the bedside.

"Why?" Your voice came out way more questioning than you had planned on. But you weren't stupid, you knew why Cairo was doing this, you had heard the full story from Winnie, and parts of it from Cairo herself.

Cairo was known by her friends to be vengeful, she always held a grudge towards people when she didn't get her way, like now. She didn't successfully seduce Mr. Miller, so now she's trying to fire him.

"He underestimated me. I overestimated him." She stood to her feet, slowly walking alongside the bed, like she was scared of you. Although you knew she wasn't, Cairo wasn't scared of anything; even when she should've been.

Her way of showing she had more power than the other person, had always been slowly walking towards them, deep eye contact with the person who she was trying to intimidate.

It never seemed to work with you.

"You're gonna ruin his life." You spoke, voice hard enough to shatter glass, the sentence and the harsh tone in your voice made Cairo stop, her jaw clenching. "And for what?"

Your voice came out as a whisper, but you didn't pay it any mind, since it seemed to make Cairo realize her mistakes. Which was extremely rare for her.

Cairo felt judged. She had never felt that particular type of feeling before, in fact, she never felt anything when people would scold her, nothing but the need for revenge.

Your eyes were looking at Cairo like she was depraved, twisted. Like she was disgusting to look at, she had never cared when anyone else did that. It was different with you tho. It felt like a sharp pain in the chest.

"To avenge your rejection?" Cairo looked back at you as you spoke, your voice basically echoing in her ears. "To punish him? Because he didn't want to fuck you?" You spit out.

"He wanted to fuck me, Y/n." She was quick to reply. Cairo had always been quick-witted, coming up with clever and snarky remarks before the sentence had the chance to be finished, but this time her words sounded more like she was trying to convince herself.

You raised your eyebrows, snorting with laughter at her quick remark, "Sure."

Cairo almost felt frightened when your figure began taking slow steps towards her. She didn't know why she was suddenly feeling so intimidated and afraid by you, was it the look in your eyes? Or the fact that Cairo knew how wise you could be with your words?

"But he didn't leave his wife for you."

The sentence made Cairos face drop, her proud smirk fell as quickly as it appeared, her lips were now quivering instead, a new layer of tears beginning to coat her irises.

She breathed in deeply, chest slowly rising, trying to contain herself from letting the tears fall freely.

"And you know why that is, Cairo?" You moved even further towards her, now standing close enough for her to hear you take a breath before continuing. "Because he loves her."

You spoke slowly, like Cairo was a child that couldn't understand what was said if it wasn't in the right pace. Cairo hated being treated like a child.

"He didn't love you." She wanted to speak, reply with words, something. However her mouth didn't dare to move, was it because you were right? She couldn't bring herself to think that was an actually option.

"He just liked that you gave him the attention his wife isn't."

Cairo no longer cared if you were correct, she was now trying her absolute hardest to not give in, to not let your echoing voice take over her head. It was difficult, to say the least.

"But you thought he loved you, right? Because he showed you the least bit of attention, and you felt lonely.." The fact that you didn't stutter once while speaking, made Cairo feel scared.

She had never seen this side of you.

"Or maybe you felt like his daughter?" You tilted your head slightly, watching as her jaw clenched.

"Did you crave the love from an older man because you haven't experienced it from your father?"

"Stop." Cairos voice was shaky, something she was surprised by hearing herself, her voice had never been shaky, not even when crying as a kid.

You smirked proudly, just like she had been doing just minutes before, which you had quickly wiped of just within seconds of talking.

"Go ahead and testify against him. But think twice about if it's really worth it." Your voice was hushed now, but still just as hard and sharp as it had been the first time you opened her mouth, she could feel your breath onto her cheeks, and she didn't doubt you could hear her quickly beating heart.

And at that, you turned on your heel, your hair basically hitting Cairo in the face on the way there. You left the room, leaving Cairo alone in the haunted bedroom.

The tears were now flowing down her face. Cairo had never cried because of something another individual had said before, let alone cried over something you did in general. But now she was, and it was embarrassing.

You were right.

#jenna ortega x reader #mabel x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell x reader #wednesday addams x reader #cairo sweet #cairo sweet x reader

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dumbslvtforethan · 1 year ago

Text

✁ THE DINER. ethan landry

inspired by "THE DINER" by billie eilish.

warnings: stalking, obssesion, posessive, no smut just plot343 words

navigation

𐙚 mdni!! ↓↓ 𐙚༘⋆ೀೀ

"DONT BE AFRAID OF ME, IM WHAT YOU NEED." That was the note slipped under your dorm door. You assumed it was from your so-called stalker, as your friends would tell you whenever they saw the notes he left. At first, they were things like, "I know we're meant to be" or "You're starring in my dreams." You leaned down to pick up the note when your roommate, Mindy, stopped you."No, Y/N, enough. Seriously, this stalker stuff is getting creepy.""Oh, don't call whoever this is a stalker. Look, it's nothing."Mindy picked up the note and read it. "Don't be afraid of me?? Is that what you call nothing? For me, this is sounding a bit Ghostface-like." She looked at you with judging eyes. "Come on, we're going to be late for class."You grabbed her arm, leaving your dorm. In front of Mindy, you pretended to brush it off. You knew she'd freak out, but in reality, you were also scared, terrified.

"So, how's stalker boy?" Tara asked while you two were walking to the lunch table."Tara, I'm starting to get scared," you said, stopping in your tracks."Trust me, it's nothing. Plus, think about it, someone is obsessed with you.""Yeah, you're probably right." You both sat down with the rest of the group."Hey guys," Chad said, smiling."Hey, where is Mindy?" you asked. She was the only one missing."Oh, she forgot her pen or something. She'll be back in a bit," Anika said. That was technically true, but Mindy was actually looking for more notes or letters from your stalker. An envelope was attached to the fridge, marked "From: Stalker Boy." Mindy yanked it from the fridge and tore it open.In the meantime, you were sitting next to Ethan. You two were never really close; you'd only talk because of Econ."Are you okay?" he asked, putting his hand on your shaking leg."Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry." You smiled sweetly, turning to face him, and he smiled back."Hey, I'm back," Mindy said, eyeing you. You stood up from the table and went to talk to her."Stalker boy wrote you a letter.""Wait, a real handwritten letter?"Mindy nodded. "Well, that's... weird.""Finally, you came to your senses. Anyways, I destroyed it.""Mindy! That could've been evidence.""Yeah, no, I don't think 'you could be my wife' is evidence." You both chuckled.Ethan was watching from the table, reading your lips. Knowing you knew about his letter just made him more aroused.

Later, you got ready to go to a random Halloween frat party someone was hosting. Maybe you should've worn an outfit that showed less skin because the number of guys hitting on you was obscene. Some were gentle, talking about your future together, while others were more aggressive, kissing you without permission. You needed to catch some air.You stepped outside, sitting on one of the steps of the doorway. "Hey, can I sit here?" Steve asked. He was from Econ, and you always thought he was cute."Yeah, sure.""So, are you enjoying the party?""Not really, actually. Guys keep hitting on me. I want someone who wants me for me, not just for my body," you blurted out."I guess I feel the same way." You both stared at each other. You leaned in and kissed him without much thinking."Oh my God, I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking." You put your hand over your mouth and got up."Wait," he ran over. "I liked it." He smiled and kissed you again. "Do you need a ride home?" You nodded, smiling. You couldn't believe you just kissed the boy you liked and now he was taking you home. You both walked over to his car, and he opened the door for you.What you couldn't see was Ethan watching. He tilted his head slowly, observing. He pulled his phone from his pocket and took a picture of you two, gripping his beer bottle, chugging one more time before throwing it on the ground when you both took off. He put on his helmet and rode his motorcycle to the diner.

He sat down at his usual place and wrote you another letter, more aggressive and explicit than the last one. He didn't even care if you'd be scared. You were his, and he was yours, at least that's what he thought.

You came back home exhausted. Mindy wasn't home; she texted you saying she was sleeping at Anika's. You entered your bedroom, set your purse on your bed.Sitting in the bathtub, you let the warm water envelop you, trying to wash away the anxiety that clung to you. The steam rose around you, and for a moment, you could almost forget about the notes and the unease they brought. After a while, you drained the tub and slipped into your softest pajamas, feeling a bit more at ease.As you walked back into your room, you noticed the clock on your nightstand blinking 11:45 PM. You sat on the edge of your bed, brushing your still-damp hair. Your phone buzzed with a text from Mindy."Are you okay? Did you get home safe?""Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired," you replied, setting your phone down.You tried to distract yourself by scrolling through social media, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the stalker and the unnerving notes. You considered telling the campus security, but part of you felt it would be dismissed as a prank or overreaction. Besides, you didn't have any solid evidence, thanks to Mindy's well-meaning destruction of the latest letter.After a while, your eyelids grew heavy. You turned off your phone and snuggled under your blankets, hoping sleep would come quickly. But as you lay there in the dark, every creak of the dorm, every rustle of the wind outside, seemed magnified. You couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching you.

Meanwhile, at the diner, Ethan was finishing his letter. He wrote with a fervor, his handwriting becoming more erratic as he poured his obsessive thoughts onto the paper. The letter was filled with declarations of love, veiled threats, and vivid descriptions of his fantasies about you. He folded it carefully, placing it in an envelope with your name on it. As the night stretched on, you finally drifted off into a restless sleep, unaware of the shadowy figure lurking outside your window, watching. Ethan stood there for a moment, his breath fogging up the glass as he stared at you. He slipped the new letter under your door before disappearing into the night.You woke up in the middle of the night with a headache, feeling slightly more rested but still uneasy.

The memory of the kiss with Steve brought a small smile to your face, but it was quickly overshadowed by the sight of another envelope lying on the floor inside your door. Your heart sank as you saw another paper "310-807-3956" it was your phone number. you picked it up, the familiar handwriting sending chills down your spine.You tore it open, dreading what you'd find. The words were more intense, more disturbing than before. "i could change your life, you could be my wife" it read. "please dont call the cops, they'll make me stop, and i just wanna talk". "No one else can have you. I'll make sure of it." The explicit nature of the letter made your skin crawl. Suddenly, your phone rang. The caller ID displayed "Unknown Number." You hesitated for a moment before answering, your heart pounding in your chest. "Hello?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly. "Hey gorgeous, did you get my letter?" The voice on the other end was eerily calm, almost familiar. "Stop calling me, please," you pleaded, trying to keep your voice steady. "I memorized your number, now I call you when I please," he continued, ignoring your plea. "I tried to end it all, but now I'm back up on my feet. I saw you in the car with someone else and couldn't sleep. If something happens to him, you can bet that it was me." The call ended abruptly, leaving you in stunned silence. The phone slipped from your hand, clattering to the floor.

what the fuck.

part two?

@jchampionsgf on tumblr

a/n: heard the diner and decided to make history

#ethan landry #ethan landry smut #horror #scream #ethan landry smut non con #scream iv #loren campbell #steve harrington #billie eilish #billie eilish smut #steve harrington smut #jack champion #wes craven #scream 6 #scream franchise #ethan landry x reader #Spotify

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creatchie8 · 20 days ago

Text

Taste

Summary: Your situationship, Jordan, loves to try new things

Pairing: Jordan Weaver/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Minors DNI! Oral (F & M receiving), unprotected pinv sex, MENTIONED weed usage (no actual substance use), ice play

A/N: I feel like I am on a roll lately! This has been sitting unfinished forever (only since January but STILL) and I am oh so stoked to have finally finished it (and sorry for that summary, it is the best I could do). Luv you all so much I hope this is up to your expectations my queens (gn)

Word Count: 4,000ish

The old tower fan in the corner of your small living room did nothing to stop the southern California heat. It hummed loudly as it oscillated, pushing the warm air around your shoebox apartment. Sometimes, if you really thought about it, you could convince yourself you felt cool air on your sweaty skin.

You had another fan, but it was resting peacefully in the dumpster outside your complex after you accidentally knocked it off the counter in your bathroom and broke it one morning while in a rush.

The afternoon was the worst though. Your windows faced west, the heat practically melting your dingy plastic blinds that you should've cleaned a year ago. You were saving up for a window air conditioner though, and when your next paycheck hit you should have enough money to buy the cheapest one at Home Depot.

You almost felt bad asking Jordan to come over, his blue eyes roaming warily over your dirty apartment and the lack of cool air as he let himself in. You had never seen his apartment, even when you begged him to let you come over instead of spending another night at your place.

To be honest, you cared less now than when you first met him at some nightclub eight months ago.

It was easier just imagining Jordan as this guy who would come over eight times out of ten when you asked, bearing gifts (his dab pen). You knew it was getting bad when you felt your heart skip a beat when he nonchalantly offered to get you your own pen, laying naked in bed while you traced the freckles on his chest.

You declined and crushed that feeling down real quick.

Jordan brought his pen, but it was laying long forgotten on the thrifted wood couch side table as you straddled his lap. Grey cotton shorts riding low on tan hips and showing off the dark tattoo that was placed under his navel as the two of you shared heady kisses.

It always started out with you calling (never texting) him and asking if he was busy when you craved his attention. His charm and smile was infectious, even through the speaker. Almost every time he would respond and say something like, “You know, I do have something planned around then. But hey, I can skip it for my best girl.”

It never got old and he knew it. You always left the door unlocked for him, prompting him to comment about how dangerous LA was and you were lucky that he was the one opening the door and not some bad man that would take advantage of you.

Then it would be casual. You would offer him something to eat and talk about work. He would decline and talk about the next crazy thing he was planning on doing. Then he would fuck you until you saw stars and leave in the morning.

His large hands under your t-shirt were hot reminders on your bare sides that you should really pick up an extra shift in order to secure that AC unit. But, your attention was brought back to the man underneath you as he urged your loose fitting shirt off to reveal the sports bra beneath.

“You're distracted.” He muttered close to your mouth, dodging your lips as you tried to kiss him.

“No m’not.” You smile lazily at him, guiding his hands back to your hips.

Jordan tasted like the cinnamon gum he spit out earlier, his scruff like fine grit sandpaper on your chin and upper lip as your mouths connected again.

You could feel that he was hard through your own soft shorts as you shifted closer, getting comfortable on his muscular thighs. It drew a barely there whine from his throat, the tail end of it a few decibels louder as you tugged on his dark hair, urging his head back from your mouth so you could kiss along his jaw.

The bruise high on his neck that you made last time was yellowing already, enticing you to bite and suck harder this time so it would stay longer.

His blunt nails were digging into your hips, coaxing them down harder to grind against him. Unsuccessfully, he attempted to raise his head up only for you to pull harder down on his hair again, head thumping against the top of the couch so you could finish sucking a new bruise on his throat.

“Heyyy…” Jordan chided, making another attempt to lift his head up, “You're not being very nice.”

“Sorry.” You let him go and sit up, feigning sympathy as you bite your lip to hide the satisfied smile emerging on your face. His cheeks were flushed, eyes shiny in the late afternoon light. A sweaty sheen already appeared on his reddened chest, highlighting his panting lungs and hard nipples, one adorned with a silver barbell.

“I'll forgive you if you take it all off.” Jordan bargained, his fist already enclosed on the front of your bra.

The weight of his veiny arm dragged it down the tiniest bit, revealing the tops of your breasts. He pulled you closer, nose to nose as his lips grazed yours. It was quite intimate, breathing in his exhale as steely blue eyes traced your features.

You pretend to consider his trade for forgiveness, glancing down and watching as his fist twists tighter in the stretchy material. Beads of sweat were already gathering between your breasts, the fan breeze tickling the hair on the back of your neck that escaped from your haphazard updo.

As graceful as you can, you slip off his lap and stand between his open legs. It’s all you can do not to gawk at the bulge straining the seam on his shorts. He had already grasped it, a big fist enclosing around his clothed cock and he looked at you expectantly.

Gingerly, you hooked your thumbs under your waistband, slowly sliding one side over your hip bone to reveal the soft skin underneath before pulling it back up and plastering on a sly smile. Jordan squints his eyes at you, an unsatisfied huff leaving his nose as he shifts in his seat. You pretend to pout and turn away from him, fingertips delicately tracing up your sides before reaching your bra.

You rid yourself of the garment, your skin thanking you as the constricting article flops lifelessly on the floor. Jordan’s foot reaches out and taps on your calf, a silent plea to have you turn to show him your bare chest.

Looking over your shoulder, you place your hands delicately over your breasts. Jordan was sitting up, hand no longer resting over his bulge and instead reaching out to yank down playfully on your waistband.

You let out a shocked yelp, spinning around to stop him from pulling down your shorts completely, the thin bottoms already almost halfway down your ass. Before you can grab his hands he snatches your wrists up in a firm grasp, bordering on painful. You wince and gasp at the pinch, stumbling forward. He pulls you down between his open thighs, your knees making a thudding noise as they hit the rug.

“Jordan-” You fussed, half-heartedly struggling to be let free. Your heart was hammering erratically in your chest, posture shrinking under his hungry gaze as you sat back on your heels. Musky sweat mixed with sandalwood cologne swirled around you as he leaned over you, toned muscles rippling under his skin in a captivating way.

Suddenly, you couldn't hear the cars honking on the street below, the kids playing on the playground behind your apartment, or your downstairs neighbor’s terrier barking at the door to be let out. Just the sound of your own shaky breathing as Jordan studied you like a lab assistant would a mouse.

Your whole world was flipped upside-down, literally. One moment there on your knees, the next your back was hitting the rug and Jordan was hovering above. He pinned your wrists above your head, showcasing his strength as he wrestled you into submission below. It made your pussy flutter, Jordan had a slightly crazed look in his eyes before he ducked his head and bit into the meaty juncture of your shoulder and neck.

The pain melted you into the plush rug, stopping the struggle and silently convincing you to cave like grasping a cat’s scruff to make them go limp. You could feel him thrusting his hard dick into your lower stomach as he straddled your thighs, arching your back in hopes he’d make more contact with your body.

Jordan soothes the bite with his hot tongue, the saliva left behind cooling on your skin. He sinks his teeth into other parts of your chest and neck, the shallow bites leaving barely there crescent moon shapes into your skin.

You watch as he licks a broad stripe between your breasts, catching every drop of sweat with his pink tongue. He trails up to your lips, licking your mouth open and pressing down harder on your restrained wrists. You can taste the salt on his teeth as he kisses you harshly, as if he was begging to become one with you.

“M-More, god please- touch me-” You manage to gasp out between his bruising kisses, rubbing your thighs together desperately. Tears sprung to your eyes as he was off you in an instant, panting deliriously as his sudden absence made you dizzy.

You hear him shuffling around in the kitchen, crinkling your brows in confusion as you roll over on the rug to your side. Propping yourself up on an elbow, you turn your head to the tiny kitchen, blocked from your view.

Jordan emerges with a clear glass filled with ice water. The condensation is already gathering on the translucent cup and dripping a few drops on your linoleum floor as he walks towards you. Sitting up fully, you shift to your knees and look up at him with wide eyes, feigning innocence as your skin buzzes with excitement.

Blinking away the tears in your eyes, you grasp the bottom of his shorts as he stops in front of you. The ice clinks like chimes on a windy day as he dips his thumb into the water, swirling it around before pressing it against your kiss-swollen lips. You smile against his finger, parting your lips as he pushes into your mouth. The digit is cold as he presses down on your tongue, his other fingers wrapping around your chin to keep you still.

As Jordan slides his thumb further and further, you lean into it. Pulling down his shorts and boxers until he’s left naked, muscular thighs tensing as you claw at them. He kicks them behind himself and teasingly, you bite down on his knuckle. Hard enough that it surprises him and you can see it in his blue eyes.

With a lingering touch, he draws his hand from your mouth, dragging your bottom lip downward. He fishes an ice cube from the glass and pushes it between your teeth, setting the glass down on the side table. You suck on it like hard candy, the water cooling your dry throat and slowly shrinking with your heat.

You move the ice to your cheek, stretching your tongue out to lap at the underside of his cock, savoring the salty sweet beads of precum that was gathered on his tip. It earned you a sharp noise of surprise, his hands flying to your chaotic updo as you took the head in your mouth. You could feel him throb as you swallowed more, the ice rubbing against the side of him.

A tiny flick of his hips forward has him touching the back of your throat, causing you to gag. Drool mixed with water dribbles down the side of your chin and he conducts your head with a fist in your hair. Your lips are stretched thin as he uses your mouth for his own pleasure, his long eyelashes fluttering against the tops of his cheeks.

The ice is melting rapidly, only a small sliver left in your mouth when he roughly pulls you from him with your hair, muttering something along the lines of stop and shit. The pain prickles your scalp and you let out a whine, panting to catch your breath. Jordan is flushed from head to toe, red splotches mottling his toned torso and thighs. He releases you, the hand holding you hostage untangling in your hair and slips down the side of your face.

Jordan’s fingers wipe the drool from your chin and for a moment it feels domestic. You let yourself melt into his hand, nuzzling your cheek deep into his palm. The spit on his fingers gets wiped on your cheek and you quickly cringe, jerking back and wiping your cheek on the back of your hand.

Amusement twinkles in his eyes, his thin lips quirked up in the corners as he snorts out a laugh.

“That was mean.” You mutter and pout, watching as he pinches another ice cube between his forefinger and thumb before kneeling down to be level with you, heavy cock bouncing between his muscular thighs as his knees hit the rug in front of you.

“Not as mean as you pulling my hair, brat.” Jordan snarks back, pressing a firm palm between your breasts and urging you down.

Once your back was flat against the floor, you watched with half-lidded eyes as Jordan brought the ice cube to his lips and sucked it into his mouth. As he moved it around with his tongue, you could hear the faint tapping noises it made against his white teeth.

Strong hands grasp at your shorts and yank them down along with your underwear in one swift motion, his rough movements pulling your whole body down several inches closer to him. Your fingers dug into the plush rug awaiting his next move as he threw your little cotton shorts and panties expertly over his shoulder.

“Slut.” You disguised the word with a cough, mockingly looking around as if to say, who said that? He cocked an eyebrow, well versed with your usual snarky comments to know there was no heat behind it. You knew it only spurred him on.

Biting your lip he lowers himself down on his stomach and presses what would be warm open mouthed kisses between your open thighs, the ice cube leaving trails of chill along your burning skin. Cold tingles through your core as his mouth connects with your pussy, toes curling in surprise.

You gasp his name, hands flying to his sweaty hair as he feasts like a starved man on your cunt. With rough hands he shoves your knees upwards, your feet barely resting on top of his tan, freckled shoulders. You freeze suddenly and let out a high-pitched whimper as he presses the ice to your swollen clit with his tongue, holding it there as he watches you struggle.

Jordan resumes his earlier actions, his short, pink tongue licking you open until the ice melted. Internally, you sighed in relief, his tongue slowly warming up the longer he sucked and lapped at you. His right hand slipped from beneath your knee, letting it rest on his shoulder. Tentatively, he pulled back and you could feel him spread your folds apart, seemingly pleased with the view as he let out a small noise from the back of his throat.

You clench involuntarily at the sound, breath catching in your throat, letting your head thunk back to the rug. You fail to exhale as he pushes two fingers deep within you, dropping his head to flatten his tongue against your clit. He curls them slightly, and you can tell he is trying to find that gooey, soft spot within you. The slightly uncomfortable stretch dissipates as he ghosts over where you need him the most, your heel pressing into his back in response.

You don’t even need to look down to know he’s got the sly, cheshire cat-like look on his face, especially as he quickly finds that spot and presses it again, as if he was massaging a knot out of a sore muscle.

“Jordan…” You murmured, craning your head up to look at him, pulling on his hair. Your thighs were quivering the tiniest bit, heartbeat strong within your core.

He hummed in response, eyes closed and cheeks red only opening them as you tugged hard on his hair.

“Jordan I wa- need you to fuck me.” You say hesitantly, his tongue and fingers still hard at work. Jordan, to your (not) surprise rolls his eyes in response, removing his mouth from your swollen nub and replacing it with his thumb, grinding down harshly.

You yelp, getting the point, “Please!” The word is sudden and pushes past your teeth and lips without you giving it a second thought.

“Right. Ride me.” He demands as he sits up and moves next to you, laying and urging you to straddle his hips. It doesn't take much convincing, body already moving and positioning itself over his hard cock. You fit the flushed tip in, looking up and not wanting to miss his expression when you falter, noticing he never wiped you off his mouth. You were smeared from the tip of his nose all the way down his throat. Something feral ignites within you, he was like an animal with his prey all over his mouth.

Fingers dig themselves into your hips, pulling you to sit fully on his dick. It stretched you, falling to your hands on his heaving chest. Jordan did not wait much longer before he was thrusting up into you, pulling and pushing you around like a ragdoll.

Though, his eyes kept flitting away from yours, something to the side of him was catching his attention as he fucked you. It confused you at first, until you looked in the direction he was so drawn to. Jordan left the cup of water just a few feet away on the floor, the condensation dripping steadily to the ground.

“You want this?” You asked mockingly, you knew the answer as his eyes lit up when you leaned over and picked it up, his pace slowing to steady, deep thrusts that had you dizzy.

“Yeah-” The response was hoarse and short, like he couldn't imagine anything greater than the ice in the cup.

Sucking your bottom lip into your mouth, you tipped the glass slightly, watching as a small drizzle splashed over his flushed chest, beads of water rolling down his ribs and to the floor. You could care less about ruining the stupid rug. His breathing grew shaky, fingers sure to leave bruises with how hard he was gripping you.

Stopping the stream, you carefully hovered the glass an inch or two over his mouth, splashing it over his lips and chin as he swallowed the rest. For a moment, you rest the cup beside his head and kiss him deeply, savoring your own taste on his tongue before pulling back and steadying yourself on his chest again.

He was barely pressing into you now, his hips only pushing upwards like it was an afterthought, all attention focused on where you would spill the water next. Jordan’s eyes were glazed over and his skin was splotchy and red like you had never seen it before.

Reaching in you grabbed one of the last remaining cubes and tossed it in your mouth, sticking it in your cheek. You let a larger gush of water spill onto his neck, Jordan keening high in his throat. If you concentrated hard enough you could swear his dick was growing harder with every splash of water you gave him.

Emptying the rest of the glass close to his navel, you admired the way his muscles ripped under the cold. Setting the glass aside you leaned down, noticing the way Jordan lifted his head up, like he didn't trust you to be out of his sight. You maneuvered the ice between your front teeth, shooting him what you hoped was a sexy, flirty smile before rubbing the ice over his nipple.

Jordan’s back arched fully off the ground, the head of his cock ramming itself into your g-spot. You saw stars but you persevered, curling your toes at the way his nails scratched at the skin on your lower back, as if he was trying to anchor himself to anything at all. He was quite vocal, nonsensical phrases patched together by moans and your confidence swelled.

Trailing the ice across his chest and to his other nipple, he stilled before you reached it, almost holding his breath and waiting to see how the ice would interact with his silver barbell.

“S-shit- ohfuck-” The words came out broken as you traced the perimeter of his nipple, letting the ice bump into the silver jewelry gently.

“Put me out of my misery- please…” Always with the theatrics. Now it was your time to roll your eyes before diving all in, giving that nipple the same amount of attention and then some as the ice melted completely. His blunt nails left raw welts along your back, biting into the soft skin there, hard.

Jordan must’ve gotten annoyed of your teasing because the next thing you knew your roles were reversed, his lean body towering over you as he shoved your knees to your chest, barely giving you anytime to think before he was pounding into you like it was his life’s mission to fuck you brain dead.

His hair got in his face, sweaty strands sticking to his forehead. Through blurred vision you could see a prominent vein rising under the reddened skin on his neck. Now it was your turn to spew nonsensical phrases, switching between begging and pleading to demanding and mean. But your mind went blank and your jaw went slack as he somehow found your clit with his thumb and started grinding it mercilessly.

The part of you that was still alive and functioning (albeit, a very miniscule part) wanted to look down and see how he was managing to fit his hand between your bodies. But your head stayed put, eyes fighting to stay open as the warmth in your belly spread from the tips of your fingers to the ends of your toes.

“Cum. Now.” Jordan spit through gritted teeth, huffing straight into your face.

“Tr-trying-” You think that was your voice, but you couldn't really be sure with how faint and broken it was.

“Try harder.” Jordan was mean, but you loved it. Fire licked at your appendages as his thumb circled faster and faster until-

Was that… you? Crying out in a voice that could only be described as animalistic and raw. Pressure released from your body and you felt as if an invisible weight had been lifted off your shoulders. So mind-blowing you felt like crying, and you think you are by the way your eyes are stinging and you can feel wetness slipping down the side of your head and gathering in your hair.

When you finally came back down from space, your soul back to your body, Jordan was no longer above you, but next to you, head propped up against his hand. You side-eyed him, not yet ready to move a muscle in fear your body would fall apart with such a movement.

“Welcome back, princesa.”

Princesa?

“Since when do you know spanish?” You whispered, turning your head ever so slightly towards him. God, he was gorgeous.

“We live in SoCal. Of course I know spanish.”

See me on AO3 as Creatchie8 for the full list of tags and more!

#lewis pullman #lewis pullman characters #lewis pullman x reader #jordan weaver x reader #jordan weaver #skincare 2024 #skincare movie #x reader #x you #jordan weaver x you #jordan weaver smut

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winniewritesstories · 4 months ago

Text

Shifter | The (Mis)Adventures iii

Summary - Meg's father picks her up from school. Or does he? Set between 1x16 (Shadow) and 1x20 (Dead Man's Blood).

Pairings/characters - Meg Winchester (OC), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer (mentioned).

Dean Winchester x little sister, Sam Winchester x little sister, John Winchester x daughter

Warnings - some violence, swearing, John Winchester's A+ parenting

Language - English (British)

Word Count - 9,910 (I got a bit carried away...)

Notes - This is set between 1x16 and 1x20, with some canon divergence. Not proof read lmao

Credits - gif via @lower-the-volume

The Winchester's were settled - as settled as they ever were - in a small, nondescript town in the mid west, the same as hundreds of other towns they had stayed in or passed through over the years. Meg was even enrolled in elementary school.

After their father had finally turned up - and abruptly left again - Meg had felt uneasy, and the boys had too, though they wouldn't admit it, so they decided that sticking to one town for a while could be good for all of them.

Meg hadn't really been to school before. She was home-schooled, sort of, by her brothers and occasionally Uncle Bobby. They didn't follow a curriculum or do tests, but they spent a few hours each day going over all different subjects - numbers, reading, history, science - and Meg frequently had her head in a book. She hadn't expected to like school. While she most definitely did not like being separated from her brothers all day, she enjoyed the classroom and the playground, hanging out with kids her own age, using the multitude of crayons and pens and craft supplies, playing with footballs and bicycles.

What she had never imagined was that her father would pick her up from school. Mrs P. - that's what everyone called her - waved Meg over to the school gate where John Winchester stood waiting. Meg's eyes were wide as saucers when she saw him, half excitement, half trepidation.

"Daddy!" she cried nonetheless, throwing her small arms around him in a hug. He swung her off the ground and sat her on his hip, giving her hair an affectionate pat. "Bye Mrs P.!" Meg called as John walked towards the car. It was different from his truck, not as big or shiny. Maybe the truck was broken and Dean was fixing it. He was good like that. That must be why Dean wasn't here.

John opened the passenger side door and placed Meg on the seat. No car seat! "Dean says little kids have to have a car seat, Daddy," Meg said. John gave her a conspiratorial smile.

"I thought you were a big girl now?" he replied, switching on the ignition. Meg beamed.

"I am, Daddy. But Dean doesn't listen." she replied, fiddling with the various buttons. John pulled away from the school just as she found the radio.

________

Dean locked the Impala and meandered through a crowd of children and soccer moms to the school gate. Meg was usually waiting for him, stood patiently next to her teacher. She enjoyed school, but he had to admit it made him a little warm and fuzzy inside to know she missed him.

Today, however, Meg wasn't stood by the gate. Mrs P., the third grade teacher, was talking to a small group of moms, their children playing with each other nearby. Dean scanned the playground quickly, a small frown on his face, looking for two brown pigtails and dungarees. The playground was emptying now, children trailing out of the gate onto buses and into minivans, so it should've been easy to see her.

Dean caught Mrs P.'s eye, beckoning her over with a nod of his head.

"Hey, where's Meg?" he asked, cutting right to the point.

"Oh! Her father picked her up today." Mrs P. said with a smile. Dean's stomach dropped, twisting anxiously.

"What?" he asked, momentarily dumbfounded. "I mean... our father's out of state on business."

"Oh, well... he signed in at the front desk. Showed his ID and everything. John Winchester, Kansas, right?" Mrs P. asked, looking confused but not exactly concerned.

Dean, on the other hand, was extremely concerned. Dad wouldn't just show up and take Meg out of school, not without telling him, and he certainly wouldn't show his actual ID.

"He... he's not here." Dean said, through gritted teeth. "So who has my sister?" Dean tried his best to remain calm, not to let panic and fear overwhelm him.

"I can assure you, Dean, he is here. Reception checked his ID against our records."

"He isn't even listed as an authorised adult to pick her up!" he said, voice rising. "Sam and I filled in those damn forms ourselves. How the hell could you let an eight year old wonder out of school with a stranger?"

"Not a stranger, her father." Mrs P. replied, an edge to her voice. "You are more than welcome to check with the front desk if you have any concerns, but we do our due diligence before letting the children leave."

Dean's jaw was set as he turned on his heel, stalking back towards his car. He flipped his phone out, dialling his father's number. He wasn't expecting an answer, and indeed, John did not pick up. He tried Sam instead, hitting the gas and pulling away from the school.

"Sam, is Meg with you?" Dean asked, voice sharp.

"What?" Sam's voice crackled through the phone. "Of course not. You're picking her up."

"She's not here. They said... the teacher said Dad picked her up."

"Dad? Our dad?" Sam asked. "He's not even in the state is he? Why would he just show up and pick Meg up from school?"

"I don't know!" Dean shouted down the phone, no longer able to suppress the panic. "I mean - he wouldn't. You heard him the other week, he thinks it's too dangerous for us to be together anyway. No way he'd just show up unannounced and take Meg."

"What do we do, Dean?" Sam asked, urgency and fear in his voice.

"I'm on my way back to you. I've tried Dad but can't get him, you keep calling, texting, anything." With that, Dean hung up, speeding back towards the motel. He tried his dad again as he pulled in to the space outside their room.

"Dad?" he asked, shocked to the core he even picked up.

"Dean," his father's voice was flat, unimpressed. "I told you-"

"Have you got Meg?" Dean cut him off. They didn't have time for a lecture.

"What? Why would I have Meg?"

"The school said you picked her up. Showed your ID to reception. Is she with you?"

"No, Dean, of course she's not with me. Who the fuck has her? Why would they let her leave with a random-"

"I don't know! I don't know, Dad. But she - she's not here. She wasn't at school, she's not - fuck!" Dean cried down the phone, the fear now all-consuming. "What state are you in?"

"Just left Texas. Text me your address, I'm on my way." John replied, voice icy cold and tense. Then he hung up, without waiting for a reply.

Dean slammed the door of the motel room shut behind him.

"Dad's in Texas," he said by way of greeting to Sam, who had been pacing the motel room, cellphone in hand. Sam stopped pacing, face pale.

"Then... then who..?"

"I don't know," Dean snapped harshly. "I don't - fuck. How could I let this happen?"

"Dean, this isn't... you couldn't have known this would happen. I called Bobby, he's on his way. Figure... figured we'd need all the help we could get." Sam said, trying to comfort his brother, who felt everything, everywhere was his fault.

"Dad is too. Says he just left Texas."

"Dad's coming?" Sam asked, unable or not bothered enough to hide the surprise in his voice.

"Yes, Sam, of course he's coming. His daughter is m-" Dean couldn't even say the word. Missing. His jaw was tense, breathing heavy. "He'll be here."

"So, what could've taken her? A shifter, maybe, if it looked like dad?" Sam questioned, reverting into problem-solving mode. "But then, what the hell would a shifter want with Meg? Or dad, for that matter?"

"I don't know, Sam," Dean said. God, how many times had he said those words this last hour? So many unknowns - who had her? Was she hurt? Or worse, was she -

No. Dean couldn't go there. If he started thinking like that, starting spiralling and letting the fear control him, they might never get her back.

"Does the school have cameras?" Sam asked, opening his laptop. "We could look for camera flares." Dean nodded, taking a deep, steadying breath.

This was a hunt. A case. He could do that. Work the case, find the monster, save the kid. It's what he does. What he's been doing most of his life. It's just a case.

________

It didn't take Meg long to figure out something was... wrong with her father. As if showing up to her school hadn't been strange enough, they then drove out of town, opposite direction to the motel the Winchester's had been staying in.

"Where are Sam and Dean?" Meg piped up from the passenger seat. Dad hadn't even prompted her to put a seat belt on, but she'd done it anyway. Otherwise Dean would just lecture her.

"They're... they'll meet us there." John replied, eyes fixed on the road.

"Where?" Meg asked.

John's jaw tensed. Meg was used to that. She asked a lot of questions, and Dad rarely answered. Usually snapped at her to be quiet. Dean explained things, as best he could, in a way that she could understand, a way that wouldn't scare her too much. "Never mind where," John replied, as his cell began to ring. He flipped it open, eyes darting between the road and the screen. "Yeah? I've got her. Was almost too easy."

Meg listened to half the conversation, nervousness twisting in her belly. What did that mean? The voice on the end of the phone didn't sound like Sam or Dean, so who was he talking to?

Meg pressed herself closer to the door, trying to put some distance between herself and the person who looked like her father. She wanted her brothers.

John smirked into the phone. "Oh, they'll take the bait alright. She's a pretty little thing. They won't leave her behind."

Meg trembled in her seat. That didn't sound right. None of it felt right. The man looked like her father, had his voice, but... he wasn't. Something in the way he held himself, his manner of speaking. She realised with a jolt of dread and panic that this was not her father, no matter what her eyes were telling her.

She really, really wanted her brothers now.

________

Two days. It had been two days since Meg had been taken. Dean hadn't slept a wink, a combination of coffee, adrenaline, and fear keeping him up.

They had accessed the schools cameras, and indeed, it was a shifter, the eyes of not-John Winchester flaring silvery-grey. They'd even got the license plate of the car he was driving, but it was stolen a few states over and didn't lead anywhere solid. Bobby had arrived a few hours after Sam called him, helping the boys poke around the town, searching out spots where a shifter might lay low, to no avail. Further research turned up shifter-sounding cases in nearby towns, which Bobby had gone to check out, see if he could pick up a trail or find any clues.

Sam and Dean stayed in the town in case Meg showed up, following any lead they could. They expected something - a ransom call, negotiation, anything - and the lack of communication made Dean even more uneasy.

Sam had suggested calling the police, reporting her as a missing person, but Dean thought that would only make things worse. Especially if they saw the footage of John Winchester walking out the school gates with Meg on his hip. Last thing they needed was a manhunt for their father.

Dean hated the waiting. The research. They'd checked every warehouse, sewer, abandoned building in the town, twice, but it didn't feel like enough. None of it did. They were waiting on a call from Dad or Bobby, or one of their contacts to get back to them. Sam had rung the sheriff's office, security companies, anything he could think of, to see if any break ins or suspicious activity had been reported. Nothing.

All he could think of was how scared she must be. He had no idea what kind of conditions they were keeping her in - was she tied up? Was she being fed? - but the thought of a monster with their father's face holding her hostage somewhere.... Dean would never forgive himself for this. It was his job, to take care of his siblings. God, he should never have put her in school, never let her out of his sight for so long.

A harsh rap at the door startled Dean from his thoughts. He and Sam looked at each other briefly, before Dean unlocked it and opened it, revealing John Winchester.

He pushed into the room, not greeting either of his sons, slinging a duffel onto the floor. He headed for the fridge.

"What the hell happened?" he shouts, turning to face the boys, uncapping a bottle of beer. "You were supposed to look after her." Dean looked at the floor, unable to meet his father's eyes.

"I... I went to pick her up from school, and they said... they said that you had already collected her, said you showed your ID and everything, an-"

"Why the hell was she in school, Dean? You know how dangerous is can be-"

"It's just school, Dad!" Sam fired back. "We just wanted her to be a normal kid, for once in her life, school isn't supposed to be dangerous, or weird - it's where she should've been all along!"

"Oh, no, don't you lecture me about school, boy!" John shouted, old tensions and arguments coming to the surface. Dean was suffocating. "You can-"

"Alright, enough! Both of you!" Dean yelled, standing between them. "We don't have time for this, Meg needs us, so stow the crap, get over yourselves, and start thinking. Meg is relying on us." His voice trembled slightly over the last sentence. Dean had one priority right now. He had tunnel vision, focused only on the little girl who needed him to find her. The Winchester men stood silently for a tense moment, each wound like coiled springs. Dean took a steadying breath, trying to remain calm, collected. He turned to his father. "It’s a shifter. We went back and checked the camera’s outside the school, and the eyes flared. We encountered one a few months back in St. Louis." He began calmly. "Bobby is-"

"You called Bobby?" John snapped. Granted, the two men weren’t on good terms - Bobby had nearly pumped John full of buck shot last they’d seen each other - but the old man, grumpy as he could be, cared for Meg deeply.

"Yes, we called Bobby. He was closer than you, and we need all the help we can get." Dean said tightly. "I don’t care what you think of the man, he loves her, and he’s doing whatever he can to help." John clenched his jaw but didn’t say anything. Dean took it as permission to continue. "Bobby’s checking out potential shifter activity in nearby towns. There’ve been reports of strange behaviour, people in two places at once, that kinda thing. Sam and I stayed in town in case…. In case she came back. Showed up. We’ve been scouting places shifters like to hide out." John nodded. Dean could see his brain working, forming potential plans, dismissing the ones that wouldn’t work, recalling everything he could about shifters.

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath and putting his bottle on the table. “That’s good. That's - it's a solid start. You got a map of this place?" Sam turned tightly, pulling out the map of the town they had found. It was covered in black and red marker, places circled and crossed out, anywhere the shifters could be keeping Meg. John leaned down, looking over the town, at the places Sam and Dean had already searched. "You checked this place?" he asked, pointing to what looked like a factory on the edge of the town.

"No, not yet." Dean said softly. Sam pulled out his computer, looking up the site.

"Okay... so it seems like it was abandoned a few years ago. An old steel mill. Seems pretty remote, could be worth searching it." Sam said, tapping away at the keyboard. "There's another empty factory, a processing plant, about... two miles further up. We could check 'em both?" John nodded stiffly.

"I'll take one, you two take the others. Where's the silver?"

"Dad, we'll be safer if we stick together. Splitting up-" Sam began

"We can cover more ground if we separate. It'll be quicker that way." John replied, his tone not leaving room for argument. But Sam pressed on.

"We have no idea how many there could be! You can't go on your own, Dad, it's-"

"Dammit, Sam, do as you're told!" John shouted, eyes blazing.

"We aren't kids anymore, Dad, you can't just give out orders like some goddamn drill sergeant!" Sam yelled back. Dean rolled his eyes, gritting his teeth.

"For the love of God!" Dean shouted, stunning Sam and John into silence. He was breathing heavily. "Dad, you take the processing plant, Sam and me will check the steel mill. We'll split up if only so I don't have to listen to you two arguing. Meg is out there, alone, terrified, and you two can't grow up and get over yourselves for five goddamn minutes! Pull yourselves together!" Dean didn't raise his voice at his father often - scratch that, ever. But he was sick with worry and needed to find his little girl, and the arguing wasn't helping. He reached for the weapons duffle. "We got silver bullets and knives in here." He said, quieter now, loading the clip of his gun with silver bullets and tucking a blade into his belt. Sam and John readied their own weapons, the room heavy with a tense silence.

They left the motel rooms, driving to the abandoned industrial estate in their separate vehicles. The Impala turned off at the steel mill, John's truck carrying on to the processing plant. As Dean looked up at the factory, his stomach twisted, praying she'd be in there, that she was safe.

"Ready?" Sam asked, checking the magazine on his gun again and pulling out a flash light. Dean swallowed, nodding, as they headed into the mill.

________

Meg's body trembled, a combination of fear and cold. They'd arrived at some old factory or warehouse a while ago, not-John dragging her in by the rope he had tied around her wrists. He had put in her in a cage, slightly bigger than a dog crate, finally releasing her bruised wrists. She could stand up, but barely, and there was a bucket in the corner. She had a thread-bare blanket wrapped around her shoulders, though it did little to stave off the biting chill.

There were three men now, the man who wasn't her father, and two shorter, mousey looking men. Mostly they left her alone, drinking beer and playing cards. Sometimes the phone rang, and the took orders from someone - Meg assumed it was their boss, because they twitched every time it rang.

Meg had never known hunger or fear or cold like she did now. She kept hoping, praying, begging Sam and Dean to find her, believing in her brother's to rescue her. But every hour that passed made her worry more and more that they'd never find her, that she was stuck here forever with these monsters.

It was not-John who scared her the most. It was her father, but it wasn't. His face sometimes curled into this sickening smile, so un-Dad-like, and his laugh, which she rarely heard, was cruel and callous. His green eyes raked over her like she was a piece of meat; his entire demeanour made her skin crawl.

She realised she was crying again, tears snaking down her cheeks. She was surprised she had the energy left to cry. Meg licked at the tears as the trickled down her cheeks, the moisture - though salty - a small relief on her dry tongue. As her stomach growled at her in hunger, she wondered if she was going to die.

________

Dean kicked over an old barrel outside the steel mill, frustration and panic building to new heights.

"Dean," Sam said softly. "We'll find her. She'll be alright."

"Will we, Sam? Because we are running outta places to search in this godforsaken town, and anything could be happening to her right now." He snapped, fists clenched at his sides. Sam sighed, swallowing. Dean was right; they were running out of locations in the town where a shifter could keep a young girl. But he set his jaw, taking a deep breath.

"We're gonna find her," he said, with more conviction than he felt. Dean looked at him with uncertainty, but his phone rang before he could reply.

"Dad?" he asked, hope flickering to life in his stomach.

"She ain't here," John said gruffly over the phone. "But I got someone. Think he's working for the shifters."

"Stay put, we're on our way." Dean replied, snapping his phone shut. Sam looked at him questioningly.

Dean put his foot to the floor as they sped toward the processing plant, filling Sam in on the way. The Impala screeched to a stop next to John's truck, engine barely off before he was out the car and racing inside.

John had the guy tied to a chair in the middle of the abandoned factory. He'd tested him extensively; silver, holy water, salt. He was human.

"This him?" Dean asked, voice low and rough. John nodded.

"Yeah. Found evidence that a shifter was here, reckon this one knows something." John replied, keeping his voice even.

"Evidence? You find any evidence Meg was here?" Sam asked, hope lacing his voice.

"No," John admitted quietly. "But a shifter definitely shed its skin here. Whole mess of skin and crap back there." He jerked his head toward a back room, the walls painted with blood and gunk. God, he hated shifters.

Beside them, Dean's hands clenched and unclenched into fists, his breathing ragged and uneven. He approached the man, who at least had the decency to look ashamed and afraid.

"Where is she?" Dean asked, voice low with a barely contained rage.

"Don't know what you're talking 'bout." the man said, though he avoided Dean's gaze. Dean hit him, the man's nose breaking with a crunch as Dean's fist connected. The man let out a shout, blood beginning to drip from his nose. John and Sam were by Dean's side in an instant, Sam's hand on Dean's arm.

"I said where is she?" Dean repeated, eyes simmering. He didn't have time to lose. The man spit blood onto the floor by Dean's feet.

"Fuck you," he snarled. So Dean hit him again. This time Sam pulled him away, forcing him to take several steps back.

"Dean, stop. Stop it. He's human." Sam said.

"And?" Dean asked, eyes still firmly fixed on the target. Sam was taken aback by Dean's callousness, the unnerving look in his eyes.

"I know you've been working with shifters. Where'd they go?" John asked calmly, pacing in front of the man.

"I already said, I don't know what you're on about." the man repeated, blood coating his teeth and dripping down his jaw. Dean tried to step toward him but Sam blocked him, hands on his shoulders.

"Listen, Steve. It is Steve, isn't it?" John asked in that same, even tone. He didn't wait for a reply. "We can do this two ways. Either tell us who you've been working for, and where they went. Or I'll let my boy here beat it out of you." The man gulped. Dean liked the sound of the second option.

"I'm just a caretaker. Ain't seen nobody round these parts for years," Steve replied, avoiding eye contact with any of the Winchester's. John sighed, but Dean didn't wait for permission.

He launched himself at Steve, punching him so hard the chair fell backwards. Dean knelt on top of the man, gripping the collar of his shirt.

"You tell me where the hell they went right now, or so help me God." he snarled, twisting the shirt in his hands.

"God?" Steve asked, smiling. "What's God gonna do to those monsters?"

Dean hit him again, and again, breaking the chair Steve had been tied to. He dragged the man to his feet, throwing him against a nearby wall.

"My little girl is out there! You tell me what you know, or you can ask God himself what he does to monsters!" Dean shouted, forearm pressed to Steve's throat.

Behind them, Sam and John watched in silence. Sam looked briefly to John, wondering if they should stop Dean. John let the scene unfold. He'd never seen Dean so angry - so afraid. Something in John twisted when Dean called Meg his little girl. Guilt? Anger? Shame? All of them, he supposed.

And Dean was right. Meg was more his little girl than she ever was John's.

There was a pregnant pause, a brief moment of tension.

"There's a shipping yard, 'bout forty miles from here. That's where they were headed." Steve said quietly, the words slightly muffled by his split lip. Dean let the man go, turning on his heel and stalking toward the Impala.

"What do we do with this guy?" Sam asked, looking at Steve, who was slumped against the wall, a hand pressed to his face.

"Leave him," John said, picking up his weapons. "He ain't worth any more of our time."

Outside the processing plant, Dean was already in the Impala, engine revving.

"I'll follow you." John said as Sam slid in to the passenger seat. Dean nodded at his father, and the second Sam's door closed, the Impala's tyres screeching as they took off toward to the shipping yard.

________

Meg's eyes fluttered open, blinking in the dimness of the room. She'd drifted off again, despite her efforts to stay awake. She didn't know what might happen to her if she slept.

Not-John had left a little while ago, leaving the other two men to guard her. The watched her with their beady eyes, shifting in their seats, their card game abandoned. The phone, which sat on the table between them, hadn't buzzed in several hours, and it made them nervous.

Meg stayed huddled in her corner, rocking slowly in an attempt to comfort herself. She hummed Hey, Jude, the song that Dean would sing when she had a nightmare or couldn't fall asleep. It was a little comforting, but it made her miss Dean even more. She wanted him to sing it to her, to hold her close and rock her gently, snuggled against him in the Impala or a rickety motel bed. She wanted to hear Sam typing away in the corner or the sound of the Impala's engine. She wanted her brothers.

She was crying again, wondering if she'd ever see them again, every hear Dean's terrible jokes or Sam's laugh. God, at this point, she even missed her dad, the small, soft smiles he reserved for her, the way he let her sit on his shoulders, the fact she could play any music she liked in his truck.

But the thought of her father was slightly tainted now, the memories of him combining with the sinister looks of the shifter, the way it had taken her and locked her up.

Distantly, there was a clang, metal hitting metal. Meg froze, ceasing the rocking and humming, her body stiff with fear. Was not-John back? Or worse, was it the leader, the one who phoned every few hours? The one who seemed to scare even her captors.

She pressed herself as far back as she could, sharp metal bars pressing into her back, the blanket wrapped tight around her as if it could shield her. Then there was a distant shout, and her two captors stood, reaching for their knives. Meg was paralysed with fear, her whole body shaking as she tried to stay quiet, stay hidden.

The door was kicked open, and Meg whimpered as a fight broke out, the shifters launching themselves toward the door. There were shouts, the sound of metal on metal, and a gun shot. Meg screamed, the sound reverberating around the small room.

Then the cage door was rattling as someone tried to open it, and Meg pressed her hands over her ears, eyes squeezed shut. Please, please, please, she whispered to herself. I don't want to die.

Someone's hands were on her and she screamed again, thrashing her arms and scrabbling backward, although there was nowhere else to go. Distantly, she could hear someone saying her name, calling her.

"Meg. Megsie, it's me, look at me. It's Sam." he repeated, trying to reach her, to soother her. She was trembling, eyes shut and hands over her ears, pressed against the back of the cage.

She opened her eyes, looking up at Sam. Sam.

Or was it? Not-John had looked like her dad, and then she ended up here. Maybe she wasn't safe after all.

"Get back!" she cried, putting her hands out in front of her to protect herself.

"Meg, baby, it's me, it's Sam." he said again, reaching out slowly, but she screamed once more and he pulled his hand back. Behind him, a body thudded to the floor, but Sam couldn't take his eyes off her. Her cheeks were sunken in, dark bags beneath her eyes. She was shaking like a leaf, so scared - of him.

"Go away! You're not him!" she shouted, pressing her eyes shut again, sobbing softly.

Dean knelt next to Sam, his heart breaking at the sight of his little girl, so exhausted and afraid.

"Megs," he called softly, unable to hide the desperation in his voice. "Meg, it's us. Look at me, it's us." She whimpered, opening her eyes, crying softly as she saw him. She wanted so desperately to believe him. It looked like Dean, it sounded like Dean... but so did the one with her father's face, the one who had taken her.

She shuddered, shaking her head. "You're monsters," she whispered. Dean's heart broke.

"No, sweetheart. It's us. Meg, Goose, please - it's me." Dean pleaded with her, worry etched into every line on his face, voice desperate. He reached a tentative hand out for her.

"Go away! Get back, you're not him!" She cried, shrinking back into the corner. Dean was beginning to panic now, desperate to hold her, make sure she was okay, but she was afraid of him. Of him.

"Hey," Sam said softly, taking the silver blade from his pocket. "Remember the St. Louis shifter? Remember how silver burned them?"

Meg's eyes were wide, locked on to the blade, but she nodded. She remembered St. Louis, the shifter who had taken Dean's form. Sam pressed the silver blade against his hand. It didn't burn. Then he did the same to Dean, and again, the silver didn't burn his skin.

It was them. They found her.

"Sammy?" she whispered. "Dean?"

"Yeah, baby girl, it's us. It's us." Dean said softly, heart in his throat. They watched her with wide, cautious eyes as she looked between them, still trembling. She looked to Dean, his piercing green eyes glistening with fear and love and hope, then to Sam, whose wide puppy-eyed stare so often matched her own.

Her brothers. Her boys. They found her.

"De," she cried launching herself forward and into their arms. Dean gripped hold of her, pulling her firmly into his lap and cradling her close. Sam wrapped his arms around the pair of them, needing to hold his little sister close, desperate to keep her safe. Dean murmured softly against her hair, holding her so tightly and never intending to let go. She sobbed into her brother, face tucked tightly into his neck. Sam pressed a soft kiss to her head, a stray tear or two falling, his hand warm and steady on her back. She was safe.

Sam pulled away first, trying to assess Meg's body for injuries. She was scrawnier, her spine visible beneath the thin t-shirt. Her hair was matted, limbs dirty, but there were no obvious injuries, no blood. A small relief. He tried to coax her from Dean's neck, to check her face and neck for wounds, to ask if she was hurt, if she was okay, but she wouldn't move. Wouldn't, or perhaps couldn't, too afraid to let him go ever again. And, from the look on Dean's face, the few tears he discreetly wiped away, Dean wouldn't be letting her go ever again, either.

Behind the trio, the door opened, and John walked in. His shoulders sagged in relief when he saw Meg, cradled safely in her brothers arms. But she stiffened and turned at the sound, and when she saw him her face twisted in panic.

"No!" Meg cried, trying to scramble away from him, the man with her father's face. He was back. "Go away!"

"Meg - hey, no, it's him, it's Dad," Dean said gently, holding her arms so she couldn't run. "It's okay. The shifter's dead. It's really Dad." But his words had no effect. All Meg could see was the man who'd taken her. She was shaking again, eyes wide with fear, fresh tears falling down her face.

"No, no, please," she begged. Sam took the silver blade, walking quickly over to John, whose face betrayed the pain of seeing his daughter fear him.

"Meg, hey - look. No burn, see?" he said, pressing the blade to John's skin. "He's human. Not a shifter." Sam reassured her, pocketing the blade and coming back to crouch next to her. She regarded John warily, pressing herself close to Dean, who had his arm securely around her waist.

"Hey, princess." John said softly, kneeling a few feet away so as not to scare her. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." John didn't really know what he was apologising for. For the shifter taking his face? Or for not being there for her in the first place? He gave her a small, soft smile, trying to offer her some reassurance, some proof it was really him.

Meg sniffled, still pressed firmly against Dean, eyes flickering nervously over her father's face. She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, turning to Dean with fresh tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whimpered, clutching Dean's hand in her own. "I'm sorry I left school without you, without checking, I- I thought that - that..." She hiccuped as Dean shushed her gently.

"Hey, no, it's not your fault, Meg. It's okay - you thought it was Dad, you couldn't have known. It's okay, sweetheart. Don't apologise." Dean said, cupping her cheek with his free hand and wiping away some stray tears. Seeing her like this, apologising for it... God, it broke his heart.

"C'mon," Sam said, standing and holding out a hand. "Let's get out of here. Get you to a hospital." Meg swallowed, wide eyes flicking between her family.

"No hospital," she whispered, voice hoarse. "Please." Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Dean ran his eyes over her body, no clear wounds or serious concerns evident, but God knows he'd feel better having her checked out properly. But how would they explain this to a doctor? To the CPS? He held her hands gently.

"We'll take you to the motel, check you over there. But if Sammy or I find anything that needs medical attention, we're taking you straight to a doctor. Capiche?" Dean said softly, toeing the line between doing what was best for her and not traumatising her further.

"Capiche." She echoed. When Dean stood up, she held out her arms, unwilling or perhaps unable to walk. Dean scooped her up wordlessly, glad to be able to hold her close still, and the trio headed for the door.

John hung back, unsure if he should go with them, not wanting to frighten his daughter more. He settled for trailing after them at a distance, close enough to still hear the soft, reassuring words Dean was murmuring to Meg, but far enough that Meg didn't feel threatened. Her green eyes still flicked over to him every few seconds, wary and distrusting, and it broke his heart.

Meg didn't let go of her brother, even when they got to the car. Her legs were wrapped firmly around his waist, arms around his neck, fingers gripping the collar of his leather jacket tightly. When Dean opened the rear door to the Impala, she whimpered, pressing her face into Dean's neck.

"Okay, it's alright," he said softly. "We'll sit up front, okay? Sammy can drive. You wanna pick some music?"

John watched them carefully for a few more seconds, Dean lowering himself into the car and settling Meg onto his lap, Sam waiting until the were safely inside before getting in himself. John nodded to Sam, a silent meet you at the motel passing between them.

In the Impala, Dean put the heat on full blast, while Meg opened the glovebox and found the Beatles cassette. He smiled at her choice.

"This one?" he asked, popping it in and turning the volume up a fraction. She nodded, snuggling into him, his large leather jacket enveloping them both as Sam drove them back to the motel. The car ride was quiet, Dean humming along to the Beatles, stroking gentle, soothing circles on Meg's back absentmindedly.

They beat John to the motel, pulling in front of the door. Dean carried her in, settling on the bed with her, while Sam fetched the first aid kit and a bottle of water, which Meg gulped down quickly.

"Woah, easy tiger," Dean said, easing the bottle from her grasp. "You're gonna make yourself sick." God knows how long she'd been without water, or food, or anything. He didn't want to think about that too much. Sam took Meg's hands in his gently, rolling up the sleeves. There were red marks on each wrist, bruises purpling underneath.

"Did... did they tie you up?" Sam asked quietly. Meg's lip quivered as she nodded.

"At the first place. Then they... they took me to the place with the cage." She whimpered, breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. Dean squeezed her reassuringly. "I... I really thought it was him."

"I know you did, Scout. I know." Sam said, wiping her wrists with antiseptic for good measure. "Can you stand up for me?"

Meg did, legs shaking, Dean holding her arms for support - physical and emotional. Sam checked her over, feeling for broken bones, cuts, anything. Mercifully, she was okay save the bruised wrists. Sure, she'd lost some weight, was exhausted and dirty, but physically, at least, she was unhurt. Mentally, on the other hand... Sam and Dean knew it would take her some time to understand what happened, to process the trauma.

"You're okay," Sam said, reassuring Meg, himself, and Dean. "Would you like a bath, hm? Get you warmed up and clean?" Meg whimpered, shaking her head and pressing herself back against Dean. He squeezed her arms reassuringly.

"It's okay. We'll stay with you, alright? We won't leave you on your own." He murmured. Just then the motel door opened slowly, John lingering in the doorway. Meg tensed up as she saw him, pressing herself further into Dean's embrace, eyes wide and wary.

"Hey, sweetheart," John said softly, taking a few cautious steps into the room so he could close the door. "I figured you'd be hungry so I picked up some food. Pancakes sound good?" He held up a bag of food, its warm, enticing scent wafting across the small space.

Meg turned in Dean's arms, pressing her face into his neck, body trembling. Dean swallowed, holding her close, glancing at John with a pained, almost guilty expression. John was hurt, face falling as she turned away from him.

"It's okay, sunshine," Dean said reassuringly. "It's Dad. I promise you, it's really him."

"Wanna take a bath," Meg said into Dean's neck. He looked up at Sam, then John.

"Okay, sweetie. We'll get you bathed. Then you put on your pyjama's and we'll eat, yeah?" Dean spoke softly, as if speaking to a frightened animal that might bolt at any second. Meg nodded, pulling herself back from his arms slightly.

Sam grabbed her duffle, rummaging around for some pyjama's, the soft, fluffy ones she liked, draping them over the heater so they'd be warm for her. Dean picked her up carefully, sitting with her on the closed toilet seat while he ran a hot bath. John stayed, frozen, just inside the door, unsure what he should do, unable to take his eyes off the little girl who feared him now.

"Dad," Sam calls quietly. "It'll be okay. She'll come round. She just... she just needs a minute." John swallowed thickly, nodding. His eyes burned with tears he refused to let fall. God, what was he doing to his children? Sam clapped him on the shoulder, heading to the bathroom to be with Dean and Meg.

After a warm bath, the grime scrubbed from her body and her hair freshly washed, Meg pulled on the pyjama's Sam had set out for her, toasty warm from the heater. She held up a hairbrush wordlessly, silently asking one of her brother's to comb through the tangles. Sam took it, gently brushing through her damp hair, while Dean tidied the bathroom.

In the main room of the motel, John sat at the small table, bag of food in the middle, a beer in his hand. Meg stood in the doorway of the bathroom, eying him suspiciously, her toes curling anxiously into the carpet. When he noticed her, he gave her a soft smile, eyes kind.

It was her father, Meg realised suddenly. The shifter had never looked at her like that, its eyes had never been so gentle, never held anything except malice. She returned the smile with a small, hesitant one of her own, making her way slowly to the table.

"What kinda pancakes did ya get?" She asked softly.

"Chocolate chip, of course," John replied, pushing the bag towards the edge of the table. She gave him a bigger smile then, flashing the gap in her front teeth, taking another few steps towards him. He'd remembered her favourite food. Still, she waited for Sam to join them before she sat down, climbing into his lap.

He put his arm around her waist, holding her firmly on his knees so she wouldn't fall, as she began eating her pancakes, dribbling syrup down her chin. Sam ran his ringers through her unruly curls, slowing springing back to life as they dried. Dean joined them a minute later, relieved to see she was eating something, and that wasn't trembling in the presence of their father. Sam looked up at him, brows furrowed, taking in Dean's disheveled appearance and red-rimmed eyes. Dean avoided eye contact at all costs, instead pulling up a seat next to them. John handed him a beer wordlessly as they exchanged looks.

They still had questions, still needed to figure out why the shifter had taken Meg in the first place. They watched her eat a moment longer as she shoved forkful after forkful into her mouth, clearly starving. Dean wiped her sticky chin with a napkin, smiling softly down at her.

"Don't eat too fast, Goose." he said. He looked at his father again, who nodded. "Megs... do you know why the shifter took you?"

She froze, fork halfway to her mouth, eyes going wide. Her hands trembled slightly as she set the cutlery down, folding her hands in her lap. She shook her head slowly.

"They didn't say why, but... but I think they wanted you guys to come." She began softly, twisting her fingers anxiously. "They said... it said you'd take the bait." Dean reached out a hand, holding her small ones in his own, trying to soothe her. She looked up at him, wide green eyes brimming with tears again. "I'm sorry I went with him - it. I'm sorry I left school, I-"

"Hey, hey, shh. Stop apologising, sweetheart. It's not your fault." Dean said softly, one hand on her face to wipe away the tears. "It's not. You thought it was Dad, you had no reason to think otherwise." He repeated his words from earlier. He didn't want her to distrust her father, their family. It wasn't like they could have the 'don't talk to strangers' lecture; she knew that, it had been ingrained in her for as long as she could remember.

"Meg," John spoked up next to then. Her eyes flickered over to him, momentarily betraying the fear she still held for her father's visage. "Were they all shifters? Or were any of them demons? Did you smell sulphur at all?"

"I think they were shifters. I don't know what sulphur smells like, but I don't think so." Meg said quietly.

"Rotten eggs. Sulphur smells like eggs." John prompted, but Meg shook her head again. "Did they mention demons at all, any demon?"

"Dad." Sam said, voice low in warning.

"I don't think so. There was... they spoke to someone on the phone a lot. But I don't know who."

"The demon? Did they use a name at all? Or a location?" John pressed further.

"Dad." Sam repeated, more forcefully. John glared at him momentarily. Meg gulped at the sight, the warmth in his eyes earlier - the look that had reminded her this was, in fact, her father - was gone, replaced with a cool anger.

"I don't - I don't know, Dad. I'm sorry, they didn't say anything about demons, I don't think. I'm sorry." Meg whispered tearfully, avoiding John's piercing gaze. Dean stroked his thumb over her shaking hands softly.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Don't apologise." Dean reassured her.

"Anything, Meg. Anything you can think of will help us." John said again, not seeing or perhaps not caring that his daughter was growing increasingly agitated.

"Enough." Dean snapped, only half turning his head to look at his father. He turned back to Meg, his gaze softening. "It's okay if you don't know anything. Don't worry about it now, you're safe." Meg nodded, looking down at her feet, swinging a foot off the floor. "Why don't you finish eating, hm? Then we can watch cartoons." She gave him a small smile, turning to her plate, but she didn't eat anymore, just pushed pieces of pancake around the plate.

"I need some air." John muttered, standing so abruptly that Meg flinched. He looked down, eyes betraying his guilt, but didn't say anything and left the room. Dean's jaw was set as he stood - slower than John did - and followed after him.

"Dad," Dean said, closing the motel room door softly so he wouldn't startle Meg. "You can't interrogate her like that. Not after what she's just been through."

"This is the demon's work, Dean. It knows I'm closing in on it." John snaps.

"Maybe so. But your daughter just got kidnapped by a bunch of shifters. Anything could have happened to her! And you want to question her? To- to find the demon?" Dean snaps back, trying to control his temper. He loved his father, he did, but sometimes his priorities were all wrong. Dean - his top priorities always have been, and always will be, his siblings.

"We have been hunting this thing for 20 years, Dean! I am this close to catching it, to getting revenge for your mother. That's what all this is about, Dean, I'm not gonna give up now." John fires back, breathing heavily.

"No one is asking you to give up, Dad, but for once will you just try and be a parent to that little girl? Not a hunter, not a - a drill sergeant. Just a dad." Dean snaps. John swallows, looking away from his eldest son. Dean's right, he knows that; he's never been a great father, always training his children, not raising them. Still, it hurts to hear Dean say it.

"Yesterday, you - you called Meg your little girl." John started softly.

"Listen, I'm sorry about that, I-"

"No, Dean, don't apologise. You're right. Shit, you've done more for her than I ever have. You've raised her, cared for her. Everything I should have done, should be doing - you do it. And you do it well. She - she's a wonderful kid, Dean." John looked at his son, pride in his eyes. Dean nodded, a small, fond smile on his face as he thought about her. "My point is, Dean, is that you look after this family. Better than anyone, better than I ever have. I know I'm never around much, I - I don't always put you guys first. But you do. You put this family first, you put your siblings first, always. Every time." Dean nodded, understanding what his father was trying to say - thank you for everything you do, I'm proud of you, I'm sorry - without actually saying it. John clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, Dean. For looking after them."

Back inside the motel, Meg was curled up on Sam's lap, trusty red checkered blanket it tow, her favourite plushie, Patch, gripped in one hand. Tom and Jerry played quietly, the lights of the TV illuminating their faces in the dim of the room.

Dean and John entered quietly, but the disruption still made Meg jump, head snapping towards the door. Sam held her closer, keeping her safe.

"Hey, princess," John said quietly, standing near the couch. "I - I gotta take off. It's not safe for any of us if I stick around too long."

"You're leaving?" Sam said in disbelief.

"Yes," John said sharply, eyes flickering back to Meg. "Your brothers are gonna take real good care of you, like always. They'll keep you safe, alright?" Meg nodded, looking up at him. John moved, as if to hug her or take her in his arms, but he settled for resting his hand against her head briefly. "I - I love you, sweetheart. I'm sorry I haven't been here."

Meg just nodded, eyes wide as she looked up at him. John nodded to each of his sons, picking his duffle off the floor. He looked at Dean once more.

"Watch out for your siblings." He said gruffly, before turning on his heel and walking out. The door shut behind him, the three siblings sitting silently for a moment. Dean looked at Meg, at the bags under her eyes and the hollowness of her cheeks. He walked over to them, kneeling in front of her.

"Hey, sweet cheeks. How you feeling? You still hungry?" he asked softly, brushing a stray curl from her face. She shook her head. "Okay. Good. Why don't we get you to bed?" Her eyes flickered across the room then back to Dean.

"Will you both stay with me?" she murmured. Dean smiled, nodding.

"Yeah, we will. You want Sammy to read you a story?" She nodded eagerly, holding her arms out to Dean. He swung her onto his hip hugging her close and pressing a kiss to her head. Sam rifled through his bag, looking for The Hobbit. He'd read it to her when he came back from Stanford, and now it was her favourite.

"Can we do a Meg sandwich?" she asks, eyes hopeful. Sam and Dean share a look; the Meg sandwich, as it became known, had started when the heating had packed up in a crappy motel in Chicago in the middle of winter. The Winchester siblings, left alone by their father, had piled into one bed for warmth, two-year-old Meg snuggled between her brothers. It fast became one of her favourite things in the world, even if it wasn't the most comfortable for the boys.

Any other time, under any other circumstances, they probably would've said no. But she'd been gone nearly three days, and they'd come so close to losing her... they couldn't refuse. They didn't want to refuse, both wanting to keep her close for a while, keep her safe.

"Sure thing," Dean said, sliding into the bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her. Sam sat on her other side, book in hand, opening it to the first page. Meg lay snuggled against Dean's chest, but faced Sam. He cracked the spine on the well-worn copy of the Hobbit, clearing his throat.

"Are you sitting comfortably?" he asked theatrically. Meg giggled and nodded. "Very good. Let's begin. In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole...."

Meg was asleep within three pages, using Dean's arm as a pillow, her small leg hooked over Sam's. He put the book down, moving some hair from her face, watching her sleep.

"You okay?" he asked Dean. He'd seen his brother's face earlier, his hair tousled where he ran his hands through it, his red eyes. Sam suspected it was a panic attack or something similar, though God knows Dean Winchester would never admit that.

"I'm fine," Dean said shortly, sighing as he looked down at the little girl in his arms. "I just... we came so close to losing her. So close. And I don't know what I would've done if - if-"

"I know," Sam cut him off, not wanting to dwell on that scenario. "But she's okay. She's safe now."

"We can't put her back in school. Not until this demon business is over and Dad's back. We can't take that chance."

"I agree. We'll just continue homeschooling her." Sam replied. Dean nodded. "You should get some rest too, Dean. You didn't sleep a wink the whole time she was missing." Dean shook his head stubbornly.

"Nah. I'll watch over her. She'll feel safer that way." Sam rolled his eyes at his brother.

"No, I'll watch over you both. Get some sleep, you look like crap."

"Oh, thanks, man." Dean replied sarcastically. Sam's eyes rolled again.

"You know what I mean. Get some rest." Sam studied him for a moment, wondering if he'd refuse again. But he didn't; Dean nodded, eyes still fixed on Meg's sleeping form, sliding down to be more comfortable.

Sam watched Dean's eyes flutter close, saw his breathing even out. There weren't many times Sam felt like the oldest and most responsible one. But now, watching his siblings sleep, keeping them safe, he felt the profound sense of responsibility he wondered if Dean always felt. Eventually, Sam sunk back into the pillows too, his arm over Meg's waist, until he drifted off into sleep as well.

________

The Winchester's had left the following afternoon, all three of them wanting to put distance between themselves and the town. Meg had sat in the front of the Impala, nestled between her brothers, too afraid to be alone in the back.

A week later, a new town, a different motel room, Meg woke up alone.

"Dean?" she called out. "Sammy?" She looked around warily. She didn't like being alone anymore.

The key clicked in the lock of the door not a minute later, and her brothers walked in. She scrambled out of bed, backing into the corner.

"Is it definitely you?" she called shakily, unsure if it really was them or if it was monsters wearing their faces. Sam and Dean sighed, pulling out a silver blade. This happened every time one of them left her sight for more than a few minutes. Every time Dean went for food, or Sam to the library, she panicked they'd been swapped for a shifter. They were trying to be patient, of course they were, they knew what she had been through; but it was exhausting.

They each press the blade to their skin, and Meg visibly relaxes when there is no reaction.

"Come here," Dean says, beckoning her over to the small living area. He hoists her up, sitting her on his knee. "Sammy and I had to run a quick errand. It's gonna help you, though. Okay?" She nodded earnestly, looking between her brothers, then to the paper bag in Sam's hand. "Okay. We know you're scared, that you can't tell who's a shifter and who's human. And you know that silver burns shifters, right? Right. Well, this ring," he gestures to the ring that is always on his right hand. "This is silver. And Sammy, we got him a silver bracelet." Sam pulls a silver chain from the bag, as well as a small ring. "And this here, this is for you. A silver ring. So, if you're ever not sure whether someone's human or not, you simply shake their hand. And as long as me and Sammy have our silver on, you'll always know it's really us. Sound good?"

Meg nodded slowly, watching as Sam put his chain on, letting Dean wiggle the ring onto her finger. She fiddled with it, spinning it round, getting used to the feel of it. She leant her head back against Dean's shoulder.

"Thank you," she said quietly. Her brother's had gone to all this effort just so she'd feel safe. Dean smiled at her.

"You don't have to thank us, sweetheart. We're gonna look after you. Always." Dean said softly, rubbing her arm soothingly. Sam smiled at her, too, taking her hand as she reached out for him. "We're gonna take a few days off, okay? No hunting this week. Anything you wanna do?"

Meg thought for a moment, tapping her finger on her chin. "Hmmm.... Disney World?" Sam and Dean exchanged a nervous glance.

"Maybe not Disney World... we could find a carnival or something though." Dean said. Meg sighed softly. She really wanted to go to Disney.

"Okay. Can I ride the ghost train?" she asked. "Oh, and the dodgems. And can we get cotton candy? Or popcorn! I wonder if they sell candy apples?" Meg rambled on, her mood lifting, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. Sam and Dean shared a smile, glad they could ease her worry, if only for a short while. She still didn't sleep well, waking up screaming most nights, insisting the kept a light on. She didn't like to be alone, or be too far from her brothers.

But this morning, she was excited about something. She was bouncing on Dean's knee, talking about food, mostly, but also about stuffed toys and games and fairground rides. Dean put a gentle hand on her head, trying to stop the bouncing.

"Easy, tiger." he said with a laugh. Then she asked the dreaded question.

"Can I choose the music in the car?" Dean sighed. So much for the house rules.

"Fine. Just this once." he said.

But he was lying. All three of them knew it. Meg Winchester could choose the music in the Impala whenever she damn well pleased. She was the only person in the world whom the house rules didn't apply to.

Driver picks the music; shotgun shuts their cakehole; Meg wins them both over with a gap-toothed smile and a glimmer in her eyes.

⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆ ✦ ✧ ⋆

this is very much not proofread lol

thx for reading! lmk if you'd like to join the tag list :)

@podado-t-memes @ariesandwolves

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codenamesazanka · 10 months ago

Text

Spinner, writing

---

The first time Spinner picks up the pen, his hand becomes too heavy the moment he sets it down on the surface of the table. The white of the paper in front of him blurs and blurs with the surroundings until he has to shut his eyes to clear his vision. In his mind, he immediately sees Shigaraki.

The pen snaps in his grip.

The doctors have to sedate him.

The second time Spinner picks up the pen, he tries to write Shigaraki's name. When he can't, he instead writes 'League of Villains.'

Now what?

"The League of Villains was..."

Was...

—the only place he felt he could belong.

Spinner's own words. He said them, once. He said them, to—Toga, who was about to run off, to find one of those Hero trainees. Because—Twice had died, Twice had been killed by Hawks, the second of them to die, after Magne, and—

Spinner throws the pen away. He drags himself over to his bed and buries his head in his pillow, biting hard into the cloth and cotton. He keeps perfectly silent, even as his eyes and heart and everything else that is him screams.

Some days, he resents Shigaraki. For not coming back for him, them, the League. For failing to beat that stupid fucking kid. For telling that kid to give Spinner those last words. Without them, Spinner could've stayed empty.

But Shigaraki's words are inside of him now, and Spinner cannot throw them away. They roll through his mind, always, day and night, echoing in that low, raspy voice of Shigaraki's, and though they always end up making wrong turns, crashing into the walls Spinner has tried put up to keep himself upright and moving, Spinner lets them stay. They are agony, and they destroy him. They are so very much Shigaraki's, and there is nothing Spinner treasures more.

He hits a stride when he decides to write as if he's writing letters.

Shigaraki—

I got your message.

Shigaraki—

Kinda mean of you to not say anything to Mister, or Dabi, or Toga. They'd be so disappointed.

Shigaraki—

The food here is terrible. Remember when you won us sushi? And yakiniku? I never had anything so expensive in my life. It was thanks to you.

Shigaraki—

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I didn't do anything when All For One said you were you, but I knew you weren't, not completely. I'm sorry I didn't try to get answers, and just listened to whatever he said. I'm sorry I didn't help you, I'm sorry I just let you scream you were in pain and it was so obvious so obvious that something was wrong and I didn't help. I should've questioned him more I should've demanded he stop whatever he was doing to you I should've

you were hurting you took that surgery for our sake I said I was acting for your sake too but I wasn't I should've helped you for real. You were our leader you saved us you saved me and I should've saved you too.

Sorry sorry I'm so sorry.

I can't ever make it up to you and I'm sorry.

The worst part, Spinner realizes, is that Shigaraki would forgive him.

---

#nalslastworkingbraincell #fanfic #fanfiction #spinaraki #Spinneraki #Spinner #Iguchi Shuuichi #Shigaraki Tomura

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fashionteahouse · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! How have you been?

Can i request an ex- to lovers fic with Paul? in wich he's already in a relationship but he meets the reader again and they start seeing each other again

hey! i’ve been groovy how about you ? sure you can ❤️ hope you enjoy :)

revolving door - paul x reader

The words were heartless. It's something that you'll never forget. It was one of the things that always lurked in the back of your mind.

Certain songs were skipped, certain movies were left unwatched and even certain restaurants were forbidden in your mind. It all webbed back to him.

Dating around seemed pointless, you often found yourself comparing them to him. It's been two whole years and you knew for a fact he had moved on. He had the face and personality for it.

Life seems to show you how much of a revolving door it could be when you were sitting in a bakery with a crossword puzzle, pen in hand.

The door opened and closed as you munched on your baked treat but a familiar voice ordering their favourite desert made your heart stop.

You had no plans on seeing him, you were in lounge clothes and you internally kicked yourself for not being dressed at your very best. It was an easy Sunday and you didn't expect to run into familiar faces. Especially his.

You weren't ready. Scooping your belongings, your hand didn't even push open the door until a statement made you reconsider your actions.

"You still got that damn hoodie."

You relax your shoulders, you hated the way the statement made you smile a bit. He always made a tense situation so easily eased.

Sitting across from each other as he stuffed his mouth, a flaw that you used to tease him about, you ask him the important question that would separate you from him.

"So, how you been?"

"Pretty good. Same shit but different day."

"I know that's a lie." you say as you fidget with your small booklet. He reached over and slid it from your grasp and flipped it open.

"I thought you said that these were for old ladies?"

You chuckle, familiar butterflies emerged deep within you. You remember exactly the conversation of when you said that.

"I don't know. They might've been onto something." you admit.

"Well, you'll never guess but guess what game I picked up."

"Mmm.. What?"

"I told you to guess."

"But, you just said that I will never guess. So, which one is it?"

The smile beamed out of his mouth, "Chess."

"Get the fuck out of here." you chuckle.

"I'm serious."

"I can still beat you no matter how good you've gotten."

You were skilled at the game, even winning majority of your time in chess clubs. Even going as far as competing in local competitions in community centers.

"Yeah, right." he says humorously.

You shrug, confident in your ability.

"So, when are you trying to beat me?"

You freeze a bit as your heart stuttered.

"Um..Uh.."

"Um, uh. See, look at you." Paul mocked you.

"Shut up." you say as he chuckled deeply.

"I'm busy these days anyway. You might have to find someone else to lose to."

"My girl doesn't even know how to play."

Oh.

"Girlfriend?"

He sighed a bit, "Yeah. We've been off and on for a while now."

"So are you guys on or off right now?"

He grinned a bit as he didn’t answer for a bit, "We're on."

He always admired your wit. Something that he missed. Something that his current situation lacked.

"Well, I'm gonna head on out." you say as you rise to a stand.

"And let me guess. Go home, finish your treat and hunch over that book?"

You scoff with a laugh as you look about. That's exactly what you planned to do.

"I bet it's not better than talking to me."

"Bye, Paul."

He watched as you left out.

You stare at the vibrating phone. It was clutched in your hand as you felt the buzz of the phone.

"Hello?"

"Wow. You still have the same number...Anyway, I'm bored. What are you doing?"

"I should've blocked you."

"Ha. We both know you won't."

You shift a bit.

"Look..Um...Can we talk?"

"About what?" you say quietly.

"You might want some closure."

"Im good. Im trying to move on."

"So, you didn't move on, then?" you hear the pride in his voice. Your stomach fluttered.

"S-shut up....Where's your girlfriend? Go talk to her."

"Someone's jealous."

"Am not!"

"Are too. She's visiting her cousins. I just want to talk. I thought we're friends now."

"And who drew up that conclusion? It certainly wasn't I."

"You still live at the same place?"

You stop breathing, "Mhm."

"Cool." he hangs up.

You sigh as you didn't know what you set yourself up for.

He walks in after you open the door. You changed up the decor since the last time he seen it.

"Your style hasn't changed."

"You still don't have anything on your walls?" you say back.

"Want to come over and see?"

"No." you mutter quietly and you both sit down on the couch at the same time.

"You've always been a bad liar." he says in your ear.

You close your eyes as the goosebumps came without a fail.

"I don't get it....You broke up with me."

"And I made a mistake..."

"And whose fault is that?"

A hand cupped the side of your face as you have to look at him. You deep down wish you didn’t have to because the good times swirled in your mind. You look down.

“I still have to tell you to look at me.” he whispered with a grin.

You swallow a bit as you rise from the couch.

“I’m thirsty.”

“You’re thirsty.” he says dryly, half believing it.

“Yeah.” you say and go into the kitchen. Rising up on your ripple toes and grabbing a glass. Your arm slowly sets the cup down as you felt hands on your waist.

Slowly, you’re turned around because you don’t protest his touches.

Eyes were closed as it felt like a magical touch. His lips were better than you remembered. His hands seemed to know just how to keep you moving forward to him.

“I gotta go.” he whispered after you both reunited your mouths over and over again.

In a daze, you only nod.

The next time he came over, dinner was made. Planned to be only for you but it seemed to be a good thing that you accidentally made more than enough.

As you both sat across from each other, the “mm’s” were familiar. They showed his appreciation for the good food, but you knew that another circumstance where he would make such noise.

“You want me to help you?” he asks as he leaned against the counter as you were making dish water.

“I’m okay. I got it.” you tell him but he was already pulling the plate out of your hands.

He tells you to go sit down. He took over the station so you do go have a seat. When he’s finished. He’s rewarded with a hug.

“Can I get a kiss?” he asked in your ear. Both hands were already firm on your back.

“Um..S-sure.” you whisper.

Eyes were closed once again as the kiss happened. But this time, it was cranked up a notch. It wasn’t a simple I miss you kiss. It was more like a I need you kiss.

Panting, you find your chest exposed without even noticing.

“P-Paul. We C-can’t.” you stutter as you watch as his hands covers your chest.

“We can.” he insists.

“‘We can’t.” you whisper as he bends a bit to attach his mouth.

“We can.” he says and a breathy noise escape from your lips as his tongue covered what his hand were covering.

As you both were naked, pressed together in bed. He snored softly in your ear. You only wake up because of soft buzzing.

The name and picture brought you back to reality as you look at his phone on the nightstand. You sigh a bit to yourself as you didn’t wake him. He looked too peaceful. You hated that you thought that. It was your downfall.

You didn’t care about anything but the fact that he was back with you. Even if it was in this circumstance.

#paul lahote fanfic #paul lahote #x reader #paul lahote x reader #twilight saga #fanfic #y/n imagines #paul lahote imagines #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote x y/n #paul lahote x you #twilight x reader #wolfpack #wolf pack #ex to lovers

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mieldreams · 7 months ago

Text

Payal

Summary: Anakin Skywalker is the roommate of your best friend's crush. That's all. Well, he's also a pain in the ass. But could one dance and a lucky pair of payal change things?

pt 2 is out!

pairing: Anakin Skywalker x desi!reader (or just reader who's familiar/involved with that culture, no physical descriptions involved)

Warnings: None, except for 'i haven't proofread a single fucking thing' :) sorry for the mistakes in advance.

A/n: wrote something on a whim again (this is the first ever time I've written a proper fanfic tho *_*). Happy navratri y'all

Edit: Here's some payal playbacks aka any moodboard/refs if you want to know (songs, outfits, word meanings etc.)

It was Navratri, the festival in honour of the Goddess Durga. Nine nights of colours, prayers, and a whole lot of dancing. Oh, and the sweets! You couldn't wait to just rot your teeth on those festive delicacies.

It was the 5th night of festivities and today's celebrations were mainly the daily prayer and the dandiya dance. The special event for today however, was the ladies' dance competition. Your best friend had practically dragged your ass to get your name registered along with hers and your other friend Pari's, a half-assed promise of treating you to your favourite food at that fancy restaurant on the other side of the city to bribe you into the elaborate bollywood-esque romance scheme to seduce her crush. "There's no seducing!" she whisper-shouted, standing at the booth where you had to give your name, her cheeks immediately heating up at your insinuation. "I just want him to... see me, you know?" and you couldn't help but mentally scoff at that, why was she so blind? "Plus the price is money," she added, smirking as she picked up the pen to write down the names.

"Well shit, you should've said that first girl, I'm always looking to make me some moolah" your smirk matching hers even though your brain was already exhausted just *thinking* about the hours of practice she was gonna make you do to make sure everything was perfect to the T. That was over a week back, and after hours of choreographing and practising and picking out the costumes, the day was here, and despite all the whining you had done during practice, you couldn't deny that you actually hoped that her plan worked. Was it because you were tired of your oblivious best friend and her equally oblivious man playing dog and the bone with their feelings? Nooo, you could never be tired of your darling best friend's endless rants about how 'handsome he looked at the cafeteria today, in his lucky white cashmere sweater his ex-grandma gifted him in 2019' (how did she know that?) or how 'it's so sad his little sister's goldfish died because it jumped into the pot of boiling water for tea, and they've invited us to its funeral' (what?). And it most definitely wasn't because you were starting to get sick of having to watch them make those nauseating googly eyes at each other every time you hung out, for the past year. (though you wondered if it would only get worse when they finally got together.)

That's right, when, because if those two failed to get their ship sailing after tonight, you were 100% planning on just walking up to each of them, asking them what time they're free for dinner and setting them up on a date yourself. Your mental planning however, was disrupted by the creaking of the metal gate to the lawn space that had been rented for the festival. You turned around, a smile immediately pulling on your lips at the sight of the said man you were downright ready to shake like a maraca till your best friend got her deserved confession (though you expected the same on her end as well, of course). But the smile immediately fell at the sight of another man walking in right behind him. Anakin. What the hell was he doing here? And truly, the scowl that pulled on your face was hardly your fault when his eyes met yours and his lips immediately turned up into that infuriating smirk as the two of them headed towards you. But before you could march up to him and demand why he was here, your best friend ran up to you, gripping your arm to stop herself from crashing into you (you supposed the accidental intervention was for the better, since asking him such a thing might only give him more reason to mock you, it was obvious he was here with Krish, your best friend's crush who was also very unfortunately college roommates with Anakin, seriously how did someone as sweet as that guy get stuck with a moron like him?).

"C'mon it's time for the competition to start, ours is literally the second performance!" She started to drag you by the arm only to stop immediately at the sight of Krish causing you to crash into her. "Are we sure you can dance in the competition when you can hardly manage to walk without stumbling?" his voice immediately caused you to raise your head, glaring daggers as you squared up to throw your own taunt about how he just had to be oh so special and wear black even though tonight's theme was white. Unfortunately, you were beaten by Krish as he elbowed Anakin harshly in the rib, making you snicker at his grunt of pain, before walking even closer towards your best friend. "Aamani... hi," Krish breathed out, shifting his weight from one foot to another. And though you wanted to roll your eyes at how his eyes seemed to literally twinkle as he looked at your best friend, or how he always took time to call her by her full name despite all her friends calling her Manu, like he just had to say it every time to even begin to appreciate her entire being that he was so clearly besotted with, you couldn't help the small smirk that tugged on your lips as you gently pried your arm out of her death grip. (when the hell did she get so strong?) ‘Let's leave them to it, then.’ You thought to yourself.

And with that you walked away towards the small stage, knowing they'd most likely not see or hear anything besides the other person for at least the next half hour. "They're not gonna leave each other's side for the rest of the night, are they?" Ugh, Anakin. How had you forgotten? and now he was following you. Great. "Well, they wouldn't normally, but we do have to perform our dance and we're up second, which means the lovebirds will have to sacrifice at least half an hour for final practice and the performance." Hold on, why were you entertaining him? You stopped suddenly and turned to him with a scowl, "and I'll have you know I can dance very well and I-" "Is that why you're wearing red? for the dance? I thought the theme was white today," the audacity this man had to interrupt you. "Oh did you? Is that why you instead wore black?" you popped a hip with a closed fist resting on your hipbone, raising a jeering eyebrow at him, his eyes immediately drawn to the movement and indirectly your exposed midriff and then the shiny white stud in your belly button. He gulped before quickly averting his eyes to the stage behind you. "I think they announced that they're gonna be starting the competition soon," he replied instead.

Oh shit.

"Good luck" was all he said before walking away towards the audience gathering up for the performances. Oh shit, you really had to find your best friend fast.

Half an hour later with your costumes readjusted and makeup re-touched you were ready to get on stage. You weren't worried about messing up as much as you were about not keeping the same amount of energy for the next half an hour. That's right, your original plans of going mostly unnoticed as your best friend's supporting dancer for a mere 4-5 minutes went down the drain the minute she blabbered about you being a dancer as a kid to the aunty from down the block who was arranging her own group dance performance and immediately downright ordered you to join her group as well. At the time you didn't mind much but now, now you were wondering if you could pretend to sprain your ankle after your first performance to avoid the other one. I mean a whole half an hour of continuous dancing? and worse, the traitor that was your best friend wasn't in the second one and so you'd been entirely alone with a bunch of strangers during the first few practice sessions. (you knew it wasn't her fault the lady didn't ask her to join but you were sure she might have accommodated another person considering it was a big dance number) So here you were now, about 30 seconds away from getting on stage, sending a quick prayer that you don't throw up at any point considering they were pretty much back-to-back dances. As soon as you heard your group being announced the three of you walked onto the stage to get in your positions. You used the brief gap before the music started to scan the huge crowd, immediately spotting Krish almost at the very front of the audience, closest to where Manu was standing, but Anakin wasn't beside him like you expected. Your eyes continuing their scan to find him in the crowd before you even realised what you were doing. Wait, why the hell are you looking for him? You need to focus on the count before the music starts.

And as soon as the music started your body naturally moved to the rhythm and beat, a light laughter bubbling in your chest as you felt the stress melt away with each step. You had forgotten just how fun being on stage actually was, and with the atmosphere of such joy and celebration it was that much livelier. Before you know it, the performance was over, Krish walking quickly to the side of the stage as you got off, still high on the adrenaline and euphoria of performing after so long, and everything had gone smoothly too. It was hard to keep the smile off your face, even more so when you saw Manu and Krish talk animatedly at the bottom of the stairs to the stage, her head thrown back, laughing at something he said and then nodding enthusiastically with a toothy grin. Her expression changing to that of shock for a brief second as Krish immediately picks her up to twirl her around, her laughter dancing in the cold night air once again. It was only your obnoxiously loud teasing whistle that broke their bubble, though only temporarily. You had to go back on stage in five minutes and you wanted to make sure that Manu had company since you wouldn't be by her side for at least the next half an hour. Though realistically you knew it was her who wouldn't be by your side for the rest of the night. Ah, young love... or whatever.

"So now that the two of you have finally been cured of your obliviosis, have fun kiddos," you smirked, "and make sure to be safe." You winked at the pair, earning you a half-hearted angry call of your name from Manu as Krish let out an awkward nervous chuckle, burying his face into her shoulder. Aww, you had embarrassed them. "What? I'm just saying, have her back by 11." you gave a pointed look at him to which he immediately straightened up, enthusiastically nodding to your words while Manu continued to glare at you. "Back by 11? What am I in middle school?" "If you were in middle school I'd want you home by 9 miss, just what the hell sorta parents did you have?" You looked down at your watch realising your 5-minute break was nearing its end. "Okay lovebirds, I gotta go, but seriously have her home safe if you guys decide to leave the ground," you said pointing a finger at Krish, "and you," your finger pointing at Manu now, "don't forget to text me when you're leaving and when you get back home, alright?" She left his arms to quickly walk up the stairs to the top where you stood, pulling you into a bear hug as she rocked you side to side without even giving you a chance to hug her back as she held your arms at your sides, "I'll text you." She freed you from the hug to squeeze your palms in hers, "I had a lot of fun with the dance, thank you. And good luck with your next dance, sorry I won't be there to watch it, I mean we could stay till it gets over. we'll have the rest of the night anyway. Hey Krish, maybe we should stay for–"

But you immediately cut her off, "absolutely not, you've been looking forward to this day for almost a whole month now." You shook your head as you saw her open her mouth to argue, "plus I know you have that scarf you knitted for him in your bag." you smirked as her eyes went wide with surprise, not having expected you to know that. "Pulling that lovely 'oh it's a cold night, isn't it? Here, I just so happen to have this beautiful scarf that I definitely didn't knit just for you, here, let me wrap it around your beautiful neck. Oh no, you don't have to give it back to me at the end of the night, I have a matching one at home that I totally didn't plan as a couple’s thing, no seriously you can keep it' on him? There couldn't be a better opportunity." You laughed as her ears became bright red, "I hate you and your Nancy Drew observation skills." she mumbled out of puffed cheeks before immediately pulling you into another hug. "I love you. Good luck." "Thanks, I love you." In the end, you were about 2 minutes late to your dance and the aunty's scary face as she hurriedly signalled you to get into your position made you cringe on the inside, but oh well whatever, there were so many people you doubted that anyone had noticed there was supposed to be another dancer. You were here now anyway. You were halfway through the dance, your back turned to the audience when you felt a sharp gaze on you. Weird, there were about 100 people watching you, why did you feel this one particular stare stand out? It was only when you completed the circle to turn to face the audience again that you immediately connect gazes with the sharp eyes you had felt on you. Anakin. He was standing at the very back, close to the water coolers and refreshment tables, leaning on one of the empty tables with his arms crossed. His gaze never leaving yours. For a second your thoughts drifted and you were annoyed at how good he looked in the black shimmery kurta, though the top 3 buttons being left unbuttoned was so unnecessarily extra. The sleeves folded over his forearms that stretched the fabric, his collarbones standing out from the open collar. Such a slut. But damn did he look fine. Wait, what the hell? Focus, focus, focus. You couldn't lose count mid-step. And tripping right now would mess up everyone's steps since it was a circular movement. Why the hell would you trip over him anyway? Ugh. And so you focused back on your steps, continuing to feel that strange unwavering gaze on you for the rest of your dance.

Half an hour later, you were entirely done with the dance competition. Your feet hurt, your stomach was grumbling every few seconds and you were sure you'd be getting a headache from being so close to the speakers for so long. Thankfully, the emcee had announced a short break for refreshments and such, before the rest of the dances and then the final event to end the night — the dandiya dance. Were you positively exhausted and maybe even getting real tired of all the dancing and loud music? Most definitely. But Manu had texted you saying they'd be back for the final dandiya dance and you were really hoping to get to dance at least once with her, you know, outside the competition, just for funsies sort of stuff. So your irritation? Nothing some tasty snacks and maybe a cold drink couldn't solve. That was until an unfortunately familiar face came into your view as he plopped into the seat right next to yours at the circular table. Not the two other tables that were entirely empty (wasn't he supposed to be some emo loner who preferred to sulk in a corner?) or even the chair on the other side of the table (though you wondered if having him directly in your line of sight would make it worse). But no, he just had to sit right next to you with his stupid pretty eyes purposefully not meeting yours and his annoying plump lips innocently wrapping around the spoon with a piece of gulab jamun on it. He didn't even like sweets.

"Um— what the hell?" "What?" he looked at you with doe eyes rounded in innocence, and your eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Nothing, never mind," you were too tired and too hungry to start anything right now and what would you even ask, 'Why the hell are you sitting next to me?' 'didn't know there was some rule telling me where I can sit' is what he'd say, maybe roll his eyes at you, the usual stuff. So you continued eating your puff pastry in silence. Until you just had to ask, "I thought you didn't like sweets?" You tried to make your voice sound as non-judgemental as possible, you were only curious after all. "And who told you that?" he raised an eyebrow at you. Truthfully, nobody. But you had noticed the way he always avoided the dessert table at parties and functions, the way he only drank his coffee black; not even your best friend's infamous black forest cake that she had made for Krish's birthday a few months back had tempted him to even grab a Yolanda-approved bite. Yolanda would certainly be proud. Obviously, this had nothing to do with you observing him particularly, you just observed a lot of things around you, and he just very unfortunately happened to be around you a lot, being Krish's roommate and 'brotha from anotha motha' or whatever they said. And yet, here he was eating a freaking gulab jamun that was absolutely dripping with the sugary-est syrup. Did he hit his head on the way or something?

"Did you hit—" "I ran into Krish and Aamani, she told me to give this to you," he interrupted you yet again, turning to face you and pulling out a long silver chain-like thing, which upon a closer look you realised with an elated gasp, was the missing half of your lucky pair of payal, the one you'd been looking for everywhere earlier that evening. "I thought these came in pairs," it was a question from the tone with which he said it, but his eyes remained fixated on the jewellery in his hands, thumb running over the delicate silver with a gentleness you didn't know he possessed. You lifted the hem of your skirt a little, head tilting down to point at your left ankle, "they do. I just couldn't find the other one." You shook your head, going back to taking a sip of your drink, "I like the sound they make when you dance, it's fun, so I thought ek hai toh ek hi sahi," catching his questioning gaze you translated, "if there's only one then so be it, I hardly ever get to wear these anyway." You shrugged, "Manu must've found it later and forgotten to give it to me earlier. I think their dating honeymoon phase is gonna be worse than their not-dating honeymoon phase" You rolled your eyes affectionately, expecting him to make a teasing remark too or at least give you that amused smirk. Instead you saw him give an almost imperceptible yet decisive nod, quickly sliding off his chair to kneel in front of you. "What are you-" He gently lifted your right foot onto his folded knee, his nimble fingers making quick work of the clasp on your anklet. Your stomach fluttered as you felt the warmth of his hands on your cold bare ankle, and you were sure if you still had that sip of cold drink in your mouth, your lungs would be burning from snorting it down the wrong pipe, and definitely not because he might've stolen your breath. His fingers skimmed in a barely there touch down your foot. Till now, his gaze had been entirely focused on clasping the jewellery but now that he was done he lifted his head, looking directly into your eyes from his still kneeling position, your faces a few inches apart. This time you could feel your heart burn. Dang, maybe you should cut down on the greasy food and drinks. His gaze briefly shifted to your lips, but then he quickly got up, dusting off his pants, picking up his empty gulab jamun cup, throwing a quick, "I'mgonnagothrowthis" over his shoulder and then he was gone. He quickly disappeared into the crowds while you still sat there, entirely motionless. Your mind blank except for the phantom feeling from his feather touch on your skin.

It was finally time for the last round of dancing. You had run into Manu and Krish while carrying your trash to the bin, the emptiness of your thoughts completely overthrown by the excited shout of your name. You were surprised they had spotted you first, considering all the doped-up lovey smiles and heart-eyes you noticed when they walked to you. The brief hand squeeze and wide-eyed glance from her let you know you were in for an entire night of dramatic recalling of every detail of their evening and you could only shake your head with a fond smirk. As you all walked back towards the dance area, Manu spoke up, "Oh, did you get the payal I'd given Anakin to give to you?" she looked down at your feet though they were covered with your skirt. You supposed she heard them jingle, the sound louder and more noticeable now that you were wearing both of them. But her question brought back that unwanted memory from earlier in the evening instead, and you fought real hard to keep your face from heating up, inhaling a deep breath as inconspicuously as possible, "uh– yeah, he um.. he did." you nodded your head a little too aggressively, "I mean I got it, yeah." Lightly lifting your skirt to show your pair of anklets safely secured, by the most gentle hands you'd ever felt. This time you felt your ears undeniably heat up. 'What the hell? Why were you so fixated on that one thing? It was nothing. It's not like he was sliding a wedding ring on you or something.' Though for some reason, that thought only made your breath stutter as you felt the lava-like blood now rushing to your cheeks. Ugh, get a grip, get. a. grip. And since you were too busy trying to appear totally normal and shoot the butterflies in your stomach dead, you missed the mischievous look that Manu shot Krish as she gave a quick squeeze to his hand in hers. "Should we really have been spying on them like that? And worse, taking photos of them without them knowing?" and though his question was whispered through a sigh he squeezed her hand right back.

"Oh, hush. 10 years from now when they have cute little munchkins running around, I'll have proof to show that I was the one that set their ship sailing." she answered with a smirk. "You've thought about their kids? 10 years from now??" he raised his brows with an incredulous laugh. "Of course. I think about everything." Even the things that you were too practical to consider. Your words, not hers. 'Blind' is what she would call it. You may have the observation skills rivalling that of the most infamous detectives, but she had The Vision. And she knew in her guts that you two were just meant to end up together. "Oh yeah? Then what have you thought about our 10 years? We got 'cute little munchkins' in our cards too?" he tossed an arm around her shoulders, snuggling her close to him to teasingly tickle at her exposed waist. "Mmm, for now our cards hold a very very important mission." She answered and he sighed again, knowing exactly where this was heading. "Let me guess, mission 'get your best friend and my best friend together for the last dance to recreate another Bollywood-style romantic scene?" he raised a brow, coming to a stop as they reached the edge of the canopy of lights and fabrics. "It's only been a few hours and you've already gained the boyfriend-telepathy skills. Impressive." She wiggled her brows at him while turning around in his arms, "I need you to find Anakin and somehow get him to agree to dance." Sensing his hesitation she quickly continued, "I know it won't be easy, but you'll manage. Once we get them both here we need to make sure they're on opposite sides of the circle so that when the final song comes they'll be paired together" she finished. "You really have thought this through, huh? I can't guarantee that he'll agree to dance, I mean it's Anakin we're talking about," noticing her pleading pout he rolled his eyes in fond exasperation, "but I'll try."

With that, he left and she walked to where you were standing, finishing up talking to some old lady, no doubt held hostage to some good ol’ ‘I knew you since you were thisss little’ talk for the past few minutes that the two had spent whispering their plan, but she quickly patted your cheek and left. "So, tonight's the exclusive dandiya night," she wiggled her brows like it was supposed to mean something, it was. You laughed, not understanding her implication. "What about it?" She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, "it's dandiya dumbass. As in, you know, pairs dancing," she continued when she realised your light bulb was still dim. "Oh," you hadn't thought about that, too caught up in the dance competition to care about the other stuff. "Yeah, ‘oh.’ So, who you gonna choose?" "Um...you?" though it came out unsure. "I appreciate the sentiment babe, I really do. I would choose you too–" You raised a brow at that, "but?" "But'" she made a show of dragging out the word then throwing her arms out to her sides, "look at the crowd around you, there's so many kids our age, there's quite a few guys our age too." And finally you caught onto her line of thoughts, narrowing your eyes you shook your head. "Absolutely not. We are not doing this tonight, well I mean you're settled, so I'm not doing this tonight." But the fates seemed to be on her side that night, as she noticed Krish and Anakin talking a few paces away towards the outskirts of the canopy while you both stood at the centre, you hadn't noticed them yet but she could see Anakin shaking his head in a firm no as well. Gosh why were the both of you so difficult? But she also noticed another opportunity walk towards you, and a hopeful scenario played out in her head, courtesy of The Vision. And so she immediately got to work.

"Hey AJ!" she called out to the guy just about to walk by you a few steps away, "didn't you mention that you don't have a partner for tonight's dandiya?" Your eyes widened and you subtly tried to pinch her to stop her from saying the next words but it was too late, "My best friend here also doesn't have a partner, would you mind pairing up with her if you haven't already found someone else?" In speaking to the guy, both of you had turned to fully face him, so she couldn't see Anakin’s reaction anymore. She hoped he had heard what she had just asked this guy. He had. While the two had been devising their plan off to the side, you had been standing at the centre of the canopy taking time to clear your mind and cool yourself. Your gaze was immediately drawn to the gorgeous lights and colourful fabrics that hung above you, mesmerised by how pretty they looked standing out against the dark nighht sky beyond. And though you may never know, Anakin had spotted you right then, standing there in your pretty red ghagra, face tilted to look above you, and it had looked like one of the most gorgeous things he had ever seen, you had looked so pretty with all the lights gleaming in your eyes. And though he was too far to see it, he knew your gaze held that golden twinkle that shone every time you were genuinely happy, though he had hardly been on the receiving end of it. So he had always observed from afar, just as he was doing tonight. His thoughts had been interrupted by the movement of someone approaching him in his periphery. It turned out to be Krish, who clapped him on the back as a greeting and then asked him if he had eaten anything to which Anakin's mind flashed to the almost nauseating sweetness of the tooth-rotting dessert he'd had, immediately followed by the image of the delicate jewellery around your ankle and he quickly shut the door on that thought, instead answering with a single nod.

"Good, good 'cause you're gonna need some energy for a while." Anakin only raised an inquisitive eyebrow in response, while Krish thought of the best, most convincing way to... well, to convince him. "Y/N needs a partner..." "Okay…?" "For the dance, I mean. She needs a partner for the dandiya, she doesn't have one..." he trailed off again, should he just be straightforward with it? "It's you." "What?" Anakin's head snapped to look at him like he was insane. "It's you. You're going to dance with her." "What the fuck? No, I'm not?" it came out as a question because he was baffled as to how his own best friend could say something as dumb as that. Dancing? him? That's fucking funny. "Yes, you are. She needs a partner. You need a partner. The solution is obvious." "Like hell it is. I don't need a partner, 'cause I'm not fucking dancing." He shook his head decisively. "You want to though. You know you want to dance with her." Krish said with a pointed look. "And just what the hell made you think that?" "I'm your best friend, Ani. Do you think I'm blind or—" "Hey AJ!" Aamani's voice had carried over to the two of them, halting their conversation as their attention was now on the two of you, though your backs were turned to them. Aamani's voice was somehow loud enough that they got the gist of it, she had asked this AJ to be your partner, and from the way he walked over to the two of you, your best friend introducing you to each other, him shaking your hand and the dazzling smile you gave him in return, Anakin felt an irrational sorts of a burning pit in his stomach. "Well, looks like the deal's done. She's got her fucking partner." He pushed off the pillar he’d been leaning on, walking away. "Wait! Dude! Where you go—" "Out." and with that he quickly walked towards the back exit of the ground, walking through the gates and out into the cold night. But he had been wrong. AJ hadn't yet agreed to dance with you, or rather Aamani hadn't given him the chance to, stalling him by telling you that he was studying the same thing as you, though he went to a different university. She had been buying time, hoping that any second now, Anakin and his impulsiveness would come barging and say that you've already got a partner. But time was running short as the conversation between the two of you came back to the topic of tonight's dance. "So, you don't have a partner for the dandiya either?" she heard him ask. Where the hell was Anakin? But her movie-like vision for his entrance onto the scene immediately shattered when she turned to see what was holding him, only to see Anakin nowhere in sight and her boyfriend standing alone with a small frown on his face. Catching his eyes she sent him a questioning look, to which he only shook his head dejectedly. And she knew her plan had failed. For her, at least. Because when she turned back around, she saw you agreeing with AJ to meet up under the canopy before the start of the dance before he excused himself, mentioning something about helping move the chairs or whatever. You too said something about meeting up with one of your older hometown friends you'd run into right before the dance competition. You'd promised to come find her when you were free to catch up on things. And so you left as well.

But at that point, Manu could only think about how wrong this was. She knew it was her who had asked AJ to dance with her best friend, so she couldn't blame him. But Anakin – Anakin she could blame. And she could also just about drag his ass back here to ask him what the hell was he doing? With the way the whole payal scene had gone, and knowing Anakin's possessive nature, she was almost 100% sure he'd metaphorically sweep you off your feet (before literally sweeping you off your feet during the dance). So why the hell was her best friend going to be dancing with a guy she was (frustratingly) getting along with instead?

Krish had walked his way back to stand behind her, but not even his warmth and the comforting palm he ran up and down her bare arm could stop the disappointed frown pulling on her lips. She turned to her boyfriend with a concerned expression, "Did I just accidentally push my best friend towards the wrong guy, with the right guy storming off to who knows where?"

a/n: so.... there's 4 more nights left... do you think they'll ever get their dance? 👀

A/n: Thank you all so much if you spent your time on this trash wreckage fuelled by finals stress and unfulfilled dreams </3

Would love to hear feedback on this one! Don't hesitate to send me any ques or just anything that comes to mind relating to our dearest love-haters and the overzealous matchmakers ;)

#miel works #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #star wars #hayden christensen x reader #slow burn #anakin imagine #anakin fluff #hayden christensen #fanfic #fanfiction #desi reader #payal universe

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