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waywardimpalawriter · 4 years ago

Note

hi! i really love your writing, and was really hoping you could do another dean winchester x f! plus size reader. possibly were they are best friends and she is pining for someone else. so before she can make her move on someone else he stops her and confess his love for her. idk maybe some angst/fluff/smut?? you don’t have to if u don’t want to, it’s totally up to you. like no pressure at all! but seriously, i do really love all your writing and i wanted to say thank you for everything u write and do!! <3 once again no pressure at all with this ask, but overall thank you!!<3

Just one good reason

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Size Female Reader

SPN mixed Bingo Square: Hurt/Comfort Square

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester,

Setting: mid season 11

Rating: E (explicit), NSFW, 18+ only please

Warnings: angst, smut, yearning, grumpy and sweet Dean (yes they need a warning),

Word count: 12,805 (Truly Was suppose to be this long. I blame Dean for this.)

Summary: He’s given a million reasons, damaged goods, blood on his hands, nightmares, scared in so many ways. But most of all that he’s not good enough. Just when you’re ready to walk out that door he gives you one good reason to stay.

Notes: Thank you Anon for this request, I love writing for Dean so very much and to add a plus size gal in as well that just makes my day. I do hope you’ll enjoy this story. The song “Million Reasons” both version’s by Lady Gaga and Briana Buckmaster are inspiration for this story.

Tag list: Is open for all character’s and series I write for.

@spnmixedbingo

Dean Winchester list: @akshi8278

Just one good reason list: @chickensarentcheap

@impala1967dwinchester, @lilacprincessofrecovery, @superavengerpotterstar @jbbarnesgirl @sofreddie @slightlyobsessedwithissues

Ancient hinges creak wearily, firm hand pushing to hold open the heavy door letting you and Sam pass by. Fatigued sigh leaves slightly chapped lips, “It’s good to be home.” Taking the stairs down two at a time, tossing duffle bags towards the war table.

“Going soft on us old man?” Teasing quip tugging a smile from your lips as you drop down into the nearest chair. “Getting use to having that soft bed under your ass now huh?”

Scoffing, whiskey flecked green eyes settling on your plush frame, “Woman you forget we’re the same age first off.” Playfully stocking towards you, hands placed on the back of your chair to cage you in. “Second damn right that bed is magical, memory form baby, it remembers me,” poking your side, giggle leaving your lips body squirming in the seat.

“Stop,” pleading tone entering your voice, trying to evaded his questing hands trailing along your curvy sides. “Please,” puppy eyes begging for mercy, his hands aren’t willing to give. Though you can’t bring yourself to care seeing the weight, even for a moment, disappear from his countenance. Or the fact your sides aren’t the ticklish spot on your body, moving in the seat purely for show.

“Say your sorry for calling me old,” brow lifting watching you squirm under his hands. Wishing and not for the first time, he could have your soft body slotted against his harder frame. Knowing how well you fit just in a different way, one that hasn’t been enough for a long time.

Giggles burst from your lips, hands flat against the hard plains of his chest tugging on the dark blue t-shirt to distract from his plans. Pushing him away which had as much of an effect as a toy bulldozer did against a real brick wall. “Okay, okay I’m sorry, promise I’m sorry,” gasping for breath giving a hard tap to his shoulder.

“Now who’s giving up too soon?” Hands pause as his eyes catch yours for a long moment. Smiling face beaming up at him, heart beating triple time and not from assaulting you with his hands. Unable to resist the urge to touch your soft skin. Callused fingers come up to barely graze just under your left eye carefully capturing the eyelash on the tip of his forefinger from your cheek, “Make a wish.”

Leaning forward to place your lips close to the offered digit, eyes closed to blow a cold stream, eyelash fluttering away unseen. Keeping your libs lowered for a bit longer torn between what you truly desire and what’s within your grasp. Whiskey roughened voice breaking through your thoughts, sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine.

“What you wish for?” Swallowing hard, beloved eyes flutter open to ensnare his in there depths. Catching something simmering just below but disappears quicker than a jack rabbit running from a coyote.

Clearing yours throat, “Can’t tell ya Deano won’t come true if I do.” Giving a smile, pressing him backwards to raise and grab your duffle bag. Cell phone signaling an incoming text message making you pull the the black case wrapped piece of tech out of your front jeans pocket. Bright smile pulling your lips higher seeing just who’s messaged you. “Catch y’all later.”

“Someone good?” Sam speaks for the first time since coming home. Watching the scene between his brother and best friend. Wanting to strangle the both of you for not seeing what’s right in front of you.

Head snapping up from buried in your phone to stare wide eyed at Sam, “Yes, no I mean it’s nothing but could be something.”

“Will again?” Peripheral catching the dark scowl pass over Dean’s features before disappearing behind a mask of indifference.

Humming sweetly, sparkle lighting your eyes that go back to your phone for a moment. “He’s asking if we can meet up tomorrow for lunch, trying to choose where to eat.”

“What about,” clearing his throat to unclog the emotions choking off the air to breath. “That little diner in town? It’s your favorite and serves the best pie aside yours of course.”

Trapping and tugging your bottom lip between nibbling teeth, head shaking in the negative. “Nope he’s not fond of greasy foods.”

‘Plus that’s our spot,’ unbridled thought slides into your mind and you want to look over at Dean to remind him. But push those thoughts aside with a wave, heading towards the bedrooms carefully making sure not to bump into a wall while responding.

Green eyes follow till you round the corner, heart catching in his throat cursing himself for mentioning your diner. Knowing better yet wanting confirmation without asking if the spot is still special.

“You’re an idiot Dean,” shaggy brown head shaking as he to snaps up his duffle bag to head towards his room. “The foundation is already there start building before it cracks.”

“Thanks Riddler, just cause I’m Batman doesn’t mean you have to be so fucking vague.” Left with his thoughts and the growing feeling he’s loosing you to another man. Dean leaves his stuff lay where it landed glancing over the chair you vacated not five minutes ago then heading towards the kitchen. In need of something harder than beer but settling for the dark brew being the only alcohol in the bunker.

Opening the fridge door, grabbing a brew his fingers brush against the clear plastic container holding a single slice of pecan pie. Eyes unseeing, drifting back into memories when the Mark of Cain still burned into his skin.

2015

Charlie’s dead, beaten, murdered and left in a pool of her own blood. Every time his eyes close she’s there, expressionless sea green eyes staring blankly into his own. Never hearing her snarky retorts, sassy ways or those hugs she gave. Staring into cold brown sludge, hands gripping the mug a little too tightly. Not sure why he chose to come here of all places. When he could’ve started out on his hunt for the Styne’s. Deep down though he knows the reason right as the little bell signals someone’s entered the small family owned diner. Knowing exactly who and trying to ready himself for your present.

Never ready for how your soft fingers brush along his temple, settling on his shoulder for a moment while you slide into the worn pleather covered booth. Trailing those gentle fingers down his black and grey plaid covered arm. Tugging one hand from around the ceramic cup to intertwine your fingers. Head coming to rest on his shoulder, no words just comfort in a time when he needs it most.

“You shouldn’t be here,” dark with hints of gravel and kissed with pain in the tone. Whiskey flicked green obits focus, for the first time on something besides the cup in his hands, landing on the top of your head.

Shrugging, “Where else should I be Dean?” Looking up at him sorrowful eyes meeting right when your other palm comes up to brush moisture from his cheek. Unnoticed tears sliding down cool cheeks, “You’re my best friend there’s no place I’d rather be then right here helping you.”

“You could get killed,” the very through twists his heart till almost bursting. Brings bile to rise in the back of his throat, slithering through his system to settle unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach. It’s one thing to loose Charlie a heavy casualty. But you, Dean isn’t sure he’d come back from the dark path he’d follow for vengeance.

Soft sad smile turns your lips barely upward, “Not gonna happen I have my knight in shining Impala to keep me safe.”

“I couldn’t keep Charlie safe how can I…”

Shaking your head, finger placed over his kissable lips, “You’ve given me a million reasons already Dean Winchester and I don’t believe a single one of them.” Resting your foreheads together a moment, tenderness skating across your veins for the man beside you, “You might not believe it but your a good man.”

Pie filled plate slides across scared formica table top, metal fork clattering against the ceramic pushed in front. “More coffee,” sweet feminine voice floats from beside you.

Nodding, “Please, sugar and cream too.” Giving her a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes feeling Dean stir beside you.

“Black like my soul you know that sweetheart,” slightly chapped lips brush your cheek. A simple thank you for this act of kindness he feels undeserving of. If he hadn’t already been head over heels in love with you this sweet gesture would’ve sealed the deal.

Breathless gasp parts your lips as you turn finding Dean closer almost invading your space. Leather, motor oil and Irish Spring tickle your nose, eyes locking with those agony drenched obits, making another gasp exist your lungs. Heartache rocketing through your body, colliding with anger directed at the Styne’s.

“Eat your pie Winchester we’ll talk about that soul of yours later after dealing with the Styne’s.”

Heart freezing at the mention of the murdering family, “No,” rougher than intended, Dean grabs your chin twisting your face towards his. Rage hot and potent flaring through those beautiful greens. “No you will stay with Sam I’ll deal with them myself…”

“Dean you can’t be serious…” grabbing his wrist, pleading in your eyes for him to listen. Loosing Charlie splintered your heart, counting her as the sister you’ve never had. Her blood demanding revenge for the grievous act. But loosing Dean would kill you, knowing you never would come back from that agony.

“I am, deadly so. You try and sneak along I’ll toss that sexy ass outta Baby faster than you can pray to Castiel.”

Snorting, pulling your chin from his grasp, “You couldn’t lift me Winchester and you can’t stop me…” but the look he gives you does. Any farther flow of words halt in there bid to tumble out of your mouth.

“No I can’t,” callused palms cup your cheeks keeping you in place. Searching your eyes and making sure you understood, “I don’t want you to come with me Y/N. If there’s anytime to listen its now. I’ve lost one sister I didn’t want.” Bitting those words out to keep from speaking the others which threaten to pour from his being. “I can’t loose you,” resting your foreheads together again.

Nodding, trying to keep yourself from rubbing your cheek into his palm or worse press your lips against his. Lying to yourself isn’t something you normally do and you wouldn’t start now with the realization you were in love with your best friend and worried your going to loose him to the all consuming darkness.

You're giving me a million reasons to let you go

You're giving me a million reasons to quit the show

You're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

Present

Downing the last of his long neck, drawing patterns over the hardwood table underneath with the condensation from the bottle. Eyes trained on that single slice of pie you’d bought him weeks ago.

“I wouldn’t eat that if I were you D,” mirth filled voice floats towards him before you reach his side in body.

Hand coming into view grabbing for the container to toss it out. But Dean’s quicker, “If you value your life, you’ll unhand my pie,” thick fingers circle your wrist pulling your plush body down beside him. “It’s not nice to steal a man’s pie woman,” keeping his tone light, playful and away from the looming fate he knows will visit upon his person once you figure out Will is the man you truly want. Deserving of your light, and laughter, the sweetness, of your beauty that Dean only hopes the other man will appreciate.

Gasping in mock outrage, “Who me?” Hand to heart trying to keep the laughter from your tone. “I would never deprive you of pie Deano. But I would that slice since I think it’s become a science experiment.”

Narrowing his eyes towards the offending sweet dessert, “It is not.” Poking twice before pulling the pie forward for a closer inspection. Musical laughter meeting his ears, smothering the smirk threatening to bloom over his lips. “Okay so maybe your right,” turning his pouting face towards you.

“Course I am,” giving him a wink then standing to toss the ruined sweets out. Pausing by the panty, you peek in unaware Dean’s watching you from his seat.

Teasing sway to your generous hips has his eyes tracking every movement. Bitting the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning at how temping you look. Thick thighs encased in blue denim jeans feet bare from wearing those steal toed Dr. Martins during hunts. Body stretching upwards, soft cotton baby blue tank top riding up to bare a silver of delicate skin to his eyes. Your fingers barely snag the sugar container’s edge, pulling it down to clasp against your ample chest.

Chastising himself for the erotic thoughts flipping through his mind on a single film reel. “What exactly are you doing sweetheart?” Carefully keeping his lower half away from your line of sight. Lest you find out the problem currently tenting his jeans, teeth gritting to stop himself from acting on all those thoughts.

“Never you mind Dean Winchester,” tossing over your shoulder, checking for vanilla extract, light syrup, and butter from the fridge. Last stop the freezer mentally trying to remember if you there's a pie shell left or would need to make one. Hoping for at least a single, since checking the flour stock and coming up almost empty. “Start a list for me please and put flour on it,” setting the three ingredients in your hands down. Turning back to open the metal door to peer into the freeze, swaying slighting to a song running through your head. A triumphant “Yes,” exists your lips, a little dance of excitement upon finding the last shell.

Damn near swallowing his tongue so entranced by your movements gulping different words back down to keep from making a total fool of himself. As he utters, “Not till I know exactly what your making over there Betty Crocker.”

“Resorting to blackmail now?” Brow arched, unconsciously licking your lips slowly. Unaware of Dean watching the path it takes across your pump bottom lip, tucking it between indenting teeth.

For distraction purposes, Dean pulls his phone from the front pocket of his jeans. Bringing up the list app a suggestion to simplify things you gave him months back. Forcing himself to focus on the small screen in his hands instead of the woman currently dancing around the kitchen. Pulling bowls, pots and pans out, one chance glance has an inaudible groan vibrating through his chest at the sight of your plush ass. Bent over shifting through sheet pans knowing which you look for as arousal flares to life so potent Dean turns quickly hiding his reacting. Planting his face in the palms of his hands, elbows bent to catch the weight. Fingers digging into eye sockets to use the pain and banish the thoughts from reappearing.

Frowning at his actions you come over after putting the pan on the counter. Fingers running through his hair, scraping the scalp with short nails. Pleased smile at the groan you pull from his lips as he rubs his head into your palm like a little puppy. “Something wrong Dean?” Worry dancing through the cadence of your voice other hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

“Fine,” head popping up, forcing your fingers to slide out of his hair. Taking a chance to glance up into your worried eyes. Underserving of your soft touch searing his skin. An itch to run from our presence skitters across his veins. “I’m fine sweetheart just tired.”

Searching his face, those whiskey flecked green eyes so unlike the blue-greens of Will’s, catching something hiding in those deep depths he’s trying to hide. Never fooled by words, always inspecting his actions and those little tells partially concealed though you know them all too well. “You’re covering something up Winchester I’ll get it out of you one way or another,” patting his cheek and stepping away.

‘I don’t want you to go on that date,’ on the tip of his tongue poised to leave his lips he keeps smashed together burying those feelings to not ruin this chance you have at an apple pie life. The very thought tears his heart, rendering another hole in the punched out organ. Though it’s his own fault for giving you a million reasons to keep that boundary line in place. Tip toeing almost across a few times, but always toeing the line keeping himself in check. Head snapping around when something hard hits the back of his head, scowl in place though it’s more playful than menacing. “Did you just…” glancing towards the floor to find a lone pecan on the ground behind him. Head tilted to the side, eyes narrowed on your face, which is the total opposite of his holding a sweetly innocent look concealing the trouble he knows you’ll cause. “Seriously a pecan? That could’ve done damage Babe Ruth.”

Eyes rolling, snort issuing from your up turned lips, “I don’t know what you speak of Dean I’m just here making a pie minding my own business. Can’t help it if a pecan has it out for you.”

“Possessed it must be,” voice pitched in a poor imitation of Master Yoda, getting a boo hiss from your general direction. “Though something tells me a certain someone threw the poor helpless nut.”

Shrugging, face neutral a picture of indifference with hands on your wide hips ingredients spread out over the counter. “Stop calling yourself names Dean it’s not nice.” Bottom lip trapped for a second to keep from giggling at the way he’s looking towards you.

Enjoying this moment of normalcy you’ve managed to capture in these dark and dangerous times. Thoughts skittering towards Will, if he’s able to put up with the hunters life style? Former Marine, Will knows so little of what truly goes bump in the night making you worry he wouldn’t feel at ease. It’s the reason you’ve hesitated each time he’s asked you out. Not wanting to drag someone else into a life of blood and death. Persistence and patience paid off when you finally agreed on a dinner date for tomorrow night. One your actually looking forward to.

But then you glance towards Dean, seeing the smile grace those soft looking lips, shinning in his whiskey flecked green orbs for the first time in months and you hesitate. Would you want to leave this life for a man who wouldn’t understand you not fully anyway? Or stay and remain the best friend till a hunt takes one of you out? Could you truly leave your home with the Winchesters, with Dean?

His voice breaks through the your thoughts, ruthful chuckle echoing through the room, “Haha sweetheart stop trying to be John Candy it ain’t workin for ya,” bending to scoop up the tossed nut a memory filters through his mind. Opening a wound he thought long since closed over soaked in whiskey and women who’s names he’s forgotten. Shaking the thought away to ask, “You gonna chunk a nut at your boyfriend tomorrow night too? Or is that reserved for me?”

Not sure why he’s even asking or teasing you about it or the fact there’s a bite to the tone. He shouldn’t care about a simple date, yet the thought twists his gut smile slipping from his lips as he looks down at the pecan in hand. Unwillingly letting those images fill and play before his eyes.

If I had a highway, I would run for the hills

If you could find a dry way, I'd forever be still

But you're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

December 2011

Run down two room shack a nicer way of putting it truly, you think while pulling up outside next to Baby’s sleek black side. Hands gripping the steer wheel till knuckles hurt and you can focus again through the haze of tears spilling down your cold cheeks. Still trying to grasp the fact Bobby Singer legendary hunter, go to lore man, and surrogate father, dead by a bullet from Dick Roman’s gun. Itching for vengeance you try to quell for another time when you can let all the anger out. For right now you knew he needed you more than any strategy planning or revenge thought.

Remembering Sam’s voice shaking, laced with pain, peppered with rage but above all coated in sadness you could hear over the phone lines. Never hesitating to drop the case — for now — breaking speed limit in the need to reunite with your boys. You’d do anything for family even those who weren’t by blood. Learning a long time ago that family doesn’t end with the DNA flowing through your veins.

Shaking those thoughts from your mind and existing the car only to lean back in and grab the bags from the passenger side. Standing to full height to peer over the top locking eyes with those anger clouded greens. “No I didn’t bring you anything Winchester so don’t bother asking.” Trying to lighten the situation with poorly used humor.

Words fail to leave thinned lips as you pass by, hand holding the creaking barely held together door open for you. Following behind his voice scratchy from no use, “Sam call you?”

“Of course silly why wouldn’t he?” Placing the bags on what could pass for a pile of rubble instead of an island countertop. Turning to face him cataloging each feature, the stone set of his jaw, shoulders tight with tension, eyes those beautiful normally vibrate whiskey flecked greens mute with anguish he tries to hide.

Shrugging, shoulders dropping forward with no will to keep them up, “He shouldn’t have your needed else where Y/N.”

“Bullshit Winchester,” moving with purpose to stand in his personal space. “Bobby was just as much a father to me as to you. There’s no other place I’d rather be than here, for a different reason yes but I’m not leaving so suck it up buttercup.”

Catching the flash of anger tinging the deep greens whether directed at you or himself you’re not sure. “We already salted and burned his body, there’s no reason for you to stay.” Turning away from your softening eyes knowing your going to try and reason with him. Make him see he’s not responsible for what happened.

“I know,” two simple words make him pause and turn back. “I didn’t come to say goodbye to Bobby, I came for you.” Taking one step closer arms wrapping around his slumped shoulders bringing him into the shelter of your embrace. Steady hands running the length of his stiff back, imparting your warm, trying to give comfort knowing he’s unaccepting of such sympathies.

Brows furrowing, frown tipping his lips downward, fists clinching at his sides, Dean tries to keep himself from giving into the solace he so easily could find in your embrace. Warmth sinking into his skin through the layers of clothing he wears, tingling his skin, quickening his pulse.“Why?”

“You need me, your not listening to Sam or Castiel talking about going off to track Roman down yourself,” spitting the Leviathan’s name out like chewed to long gum. Head resting against his strong chest feeling the slightly erratic beat of his heart against your ear.

Back stiffening, “I don’t need you to tell me what to do Y/N I can make that decision on my own.” Low growl rattling through his chest as he pulls from your arms and steps from the warmth evaporating from his body. “You should leave.”

“And get yourself killed?” Hands slamming to your wide hips glaring daggers at your best friend. “What happened wasn’t your fault Dean. Any one of us could’ve taken that bullet, Bobby knew the risks of the mission, accepted them and died…” swallowing the tears threatening to slip from your eyes. “A hero,” ignoring his last words, reaching out to try and take his hand only to have him pull away like you’ve burned him.

“Don’t, don’t try to reason this with me I know better,” turning his back to head for the wall covered in papers trying to figure out just what Dick Roman’s up too.

Shaking your head knowing he’s hurting but not wanting to voice those feelings, to make him appear weak. With a sigh leaving your frowning lips you move silently beside him looking over the wall of weird trying to piece together how everything connects. Brushing your hand against his, pinkie trailing to catch what you think is his forefinger. Wrapping the little finger tightly around his you lean over, “I’m right here when you’re ready Dean, I’m not leaving nor letting go.”

“You should,” not bothering to turn and face you. Memories of Lisa and Ben filter through his thoughts along with Bobby, his father and what he can remember of his mother. “I’m poison and get everyone around me killed.” He doesn’t want to add you to the growing list. Rather wanting you to leave and find a different path for your life.

Tugging on his finger to wrap the middle and forefinger with your ring and pinkie fingers, “Then Sam and I are the antidote to your poison.” Giving a soft sad smile to his side profile, wrapping him up into your arms. Resting your head on his shoulder, voice a gentle whisper of breath upon his cheek and neck,“Those reasons keep tallying up Winchester we’ll hit a million before long.”

Reminding you both of a long ago discussion between the two of you in Bobby’s junk yard while still teenagers. Before angels and demons, vampires thought long dead and ancient Leviathan brought back from the pit of purgatory. When you made the packed to never fall for each other and always remain best friends. To never let go no matter how dire the situation, you’d have each other’s back.

Evaporating memories of long ago, you speak softly still resting your head on his shoulder. “You work on this mosaic of papers you have plastered over the walls. I have a pie to bake,” not giving it much thought you quickly press a kiss to his stubbled cheek then turn to head back towards the passable kitchen area.

Tingles dance over his skin for longer than he wishes, wanting to suppress those feelings bubbling up to try and consume him. Thinking he could bury them under the mounting pain and self hated. Yet, the warmth of your arms, soft press of your lips, your words register and sink into his brain Dean turns to watch you work unable stop a few of those feelings from dancing around his heart. Single thought shocking him in its stark contradiction to his current state of mind, Dean Winchester self proclaimed ladies man has fallen in love with his best friend. A sucker punch to the gut making him gasp and reel that silent declaration in. Stuffing it under the right full emotions of anger and pain. Letting them tap dance through his veins instead, something much safer for the both of them. Something he could understand and deal with.

I bow down to pray

I try to make the worst seem better

Lord, show me the way

To cut through all his worn out leather

I've got a hundred million reasons to walk away

But, baby, I just need one good one to stay

Head stuck in a cycle, I look off and I stare

It's like that I've stopped breathing, but completely aware

'Cause you're giving me a million reasons

Give me a million reasons

Giving me a million reasons

About a million reasons

Present

“He’s not my boyfriend yet Dean,” eyes rolling as you turn to melt the butter in a small sauce pan. Though there is a part of you wishing he could one day fill the role unless a single good reason can change your mind comes your way.

“But you want him too?” Words muttered through presses together teeth. Hating the fact he’s letting something so trivial effect him in such a way. You’ve had other boyfriends, one night stands he’s had to sit through yet this one feels different. As if he could truly loose you this time and those thoughts scare the shit outta him the most. Because yes you’re his best friend for longer than he can remember but above that you’re the woman who gets him, argues with him, sets his ass straight when he’s being stupid and above all or so he hopes, loves him warts and all.

Hands pause at his question looking into the melting golden liquid bubbling silently remembering to flick the tiny knob and turn the heat off. While your head screams to say yes but it’s a little small voice beating quickly beneath your ribcage making you pause. Clearing your throat to gather what thoughts you could from their scattered places. You’ve always spoke with honesty to Dean, unless circumstances dictated other wise, and you weren’t about to change now. Through you wouldn’t turn to face him when you did wanting to keep from seeing his eyes. Finding the reason for his questions in those green depths you’ve fallen for though never spoken the feelings. “Yes, he could…” swallowing to coat your dry throat to spit out the words rotting your stomach. “I could have a chance at happiness with Will, Dean. Why do you even ask?”

“I don’t want to loose you,” ‘Because I love you,’ on the tip of his tongue to tell you, give voice and life to his true feelings. Wanting you to stay and forget about those million other reasons he’s let slip between the cracks in your relationship.

Frozen in place, hands gripping the countertop beside the stove. “You wouldn’t loose me Dean I’d still go on hunts with you, I’d stick around,” lies tasting bitter on your tongue, heart beating triple time wondering if he’ll pick up on the dishonesty your speaking. Always feeling he’d never see you as anything other than his best friend. Never the type of woman to draw his attention, too soft and plush in places most men wouldn’t want and you didn’t pine for a man who’s given you a million reasons to walk away. So you shoved those feelings, the love you held back trying to make it work with other men. To find the one who’d surpass Dean destroying your feelings for the green eyed hunter, giving you the one reason to stay and belong. So why now did he have to put doubts in your mind? Why ask these questions when in years past he’d brush other men away as nothing more than a passing fancy?

Silently Dean stands slowly making his way towards you, taking in the ridged stance of your plush form. Hands itch to wrap around your thick waist and haul you against his chest. Pausing right beside you, brushing his fingers against yours too hook what he thinks is your forefinger with his pinkie. “You and I both know things wouldn’t stay the same between us sweetheart. He’d find a way to take you away from me,” praying you won’t pull away Dean turns to stare at your profile. Taking in the beauty he’s catalogued thousands of times, the curve of your lips when you smile, slope of your nose, eyes bright with laughter or spiting fire when angry usually at him. Softness of your cheeks under his palms the times he’s actually got to cup and caress the skin.

“We’ll remain best friends Dean that’ll never change,” gathering the courage to turn and look into his eyes. Catching the sadness coating those beloved greens making your heart ache. Tongue slipping out to tug back your bottom lip between your teeth indented them to keep from asking the question your heart demands.

Of its own accord Dean’s free hand comes up to brush over your cheek, cupping the soft skin, fingers spread from apple to jaw wanting so badly to draw you in and kiss those tempting lips. “I want you happy Y/N and if it’s possible out of this life, been wanting that for you since Bobby,” sliding his hand to your chin to pinch the end with his thumb and forefinger tipping your face up to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’ll miss you sweetheart.”

Eyes lock with stormy greens after he pulls back, soft gasp parting your lips at the simple touch, words sounding like a goodbye instead of their usual see ya later. Grappling for words to say, questions to ask, trying to figure out what’s going on, and why now. But he’s gone before your brain can catch up with your mouth, and your turning to rush after, seeing his back disappear around the corner.

Feet finally responding to command as you quickly follow stopping at the doorway, “Give me one good reason.” Praying he’ll listen and stop, hoping it’s not too late. “Stop giving me all these reasons to leave.”

Back ridged but his mind a flurry of thoughts and answers, more questions than he could shake a stick at. Only one reason comes to mind, “Good reason to what?”

Traveling the short distance to take his hand intertwining your fingers with his, needing him to turn around and look at you. Needing the connection while stating, “Give me a good reason to stay Dean to not go tomorrow night.”

“I can’t,” partly wanting to flinch from your touch, to tug his hand free, and partly wanting to sink into your familiar embrace. Soak in the peace he always finds in your arms, to bath in your warmth and possibly bask in your love. But Dean wouldn’t be selfish he’d let you go even if it meant killing his own heart and soul.

The urge to punch him grows strong but your refrain from using violence, “Why not? Too scared? Or you just don’t care?”

The warmth of your hand disappears from searing into his palm, tingling those long nimble fingers, his eyes close knowing you’re walking away because of that millionth reason. Till the first brush of soft fingers tender in there touch upon his cheek. He gives in to the urge and rubs his slightly stubbled cheek into your palm. “If that’s you Sam, I’m gonna kick your ass dude,” ignoring your questions in favor of basking in your touch instead. Hearing the soft giggle from your lips brings a smile to his own. Eyes finally opening too stare into yours, almost doing a doubt take at what he sees in those beloved depths. “I don’t deserve you Y/N.”

“Stop giving me a million reasons Dean and give me the one that’ll make me stay,” imploring him with your touch, fingers tracing over his cheeks and jaw. Tracing his plush bottom lip with the pad of your thumb, “I just need one good reason.”

He’d find the situation funny if it’s anyone else standing in front asking the same question. Even Sam would get a chuckle from his lips, but you, his breath freezes, heart thumping wildly in equal measures of terror and excitement. The very thoughts running unrestrained in his mind scare the shit out of him, but only one truly feels right. Snaking an arm around your thick waist pulling you against his strong chest, fitting like missing puzzle pieces. His free hand coming up to cup your cheek, “I love you.”

Tears slip from their ducts barely held back till those three simple words spill from his mouth jump starting your heart and sending your emotions swirling. Warm palms cradle your wet cheeks, gun callused thumbs brush hot tears away, you spy the worry and fear your non response sparks. “Do you mean it?” Wanting clarification before handing your heart over to the very man who’s held it for so long.

Knowing what your asking Dean stops waiting and lowers his mouth to yours. That first touch of lips electricity shoots through you veins. Body responding quicker with arms going around his neck to pull him firmly against you not a wisp of space between your bodies. Fingers tangling in the short hairs at the back of his head while you slot your lips against his. Demanding and deep, a tangled dance of tongues. Clashing of teeth, a melding mouths and finding the right angles to draw those delicious moans from each of you. Till air becomes necessary and you break apart panting, “That answer your question sweetheart?”

“No,” smirking when his eyes narrow, “I wanna hear it again.”

No hesitation in speaking those three words, “I love you.” Groaning when your lips smash back to his. Stealing breath from his lungs and a moan from his chest, Dean walks you backward till your pressed against the cool tile wall. Lower pelvis holding your soft body in place so his hands can dance over your cotton covered plush form. Palm’s flat against your thick waist, slowly dragging them around and down to cup your generous ass. Squeezing firmly and making you gasp.

Using the opening as a way to work his tongue back into your mouth, delving in for another taste of your sweetness. Low groan existing when rearranging his mouth to fit differently and snag a gulp of air. Stubble abrading your chin in the most spectacular of ways. Pooling heat low in your belly and making your mind wander in other more salacious directions. Brought back from teetering on the deliciously desirable edge by a sharp bite, his teeth nabbing your bottom lip to tug, letting go with a wet pop. Breath fanning out over your heated cheeks. Eyes once closed now open and locked with yours a pleading undertone to the desire darkened greens.

Knowing what he wants to hear and unable to wait along, “I love you too Dean.” Heart bursting with unrestrained joy flooding your system and making you love drunk.

“Thank fucking God,” groaning, resting your foreheads together still trying to reign in the wild thumping of his heart. Your admission only serves to make the largest muscle spasm quicker. All his pent up emotions, desires and needs flowing to the surface, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from rushing into something too fast. Remembering it’s still fresh and new between the two of you a different path to the relationship already established in friendship.

Giggling softly, you cup both his cheeks, thumbs brushing along his skin, three days worth of stubble abrading your palms. “So,” teasing smirk pulling at your lips, “I better call Will huh?”

“For?” Trying to keep the bitter growl from escaping and giving away his feelings on the sore subject. Tugging your soft body back in place from your wiggles to side free, not ready to let you go just yet.

Sliding one hand down his chest to rest where you know his anti-possession tattoo resides. Tracing the edges with the tip of your finger over the black t-shirt he’s wearing, locking eyes with his, “Seems I’m a taken woman. Wouldn’t want to lead the poor guy on now would I?” Watching how those whiskey flecked greens darken, pushing his lower body deeper into your plush form. Barely heard as you try not to give away the whimper of need his body produces in your own, with his pressed so tightly. Cool concrete keeping you body temp from over heating for the moment.

“No,” clearing his throat leaning in to draw his nose over your jawline. Touring towards your ear, catching the lobe between his front teeth to tug. Low desire filled growl leaving his lips, followed by, “Tomorrow is another day sweetheart and right now you’ve got better things to do.”

Heading tipping over granting access to the parts of your neck he wants, trying to keep the shiver from rolling over your body. Heat flooding your veins sparking a need you’ve never felt with any of the other men you’d previously had relations with. “What,” licking your parched lips, “what better things Dean?” Praying it’s the same idea rolling around your head for the longest time.

Pausing in his mapping of your neck and shoulder with his lips, Dean raises his head to spear you with a heated look. “Me for starters sweetheart, that is of course…” uneasiness has him trailing off the first time in his life. The bitter taste of uncertainty coating his thoughts for a fraction of a second before your lips land back on his.

Teasingly soft presses, little ghost touches of your tongue, playfully dotting his cheeks, chin and forehead with your lips before brushing close to his ear. “Hey Dean,” smiling against his skin, tenderly pressing your lips just south of his ear. Nibbling the found patch of sensitive skin behind committing the spot to memory for later. Breath puffing out quicker feeling him shiver, knowing what the next words would invoke in Dean and his love for the movie. “You big stud. Take me to bed or lose me forever,” sultry tone added to the cadence.

His eyes close for a moment, heart swelling as you recite the words to one of his favorite movies. Marveling at the fact you’ve remembered the lines perfectly and Dean falls deeper in love with you if that’s possible.

The gentle caresses of your lips against his skin setting fire to his nerve endings, room in his jeans becoming a hot commodity as his shaft thickens and throbs. Finding the distraction almost too much while trying to recall the next line. Teasing giggles reach his ears that he replies to with a deep chuckle. Words coming back to him, “Show me the way home, honey.”

Reaching down to tug one hand from your ass, chuckling with a shake of your head when it doesn’t budge but squeezes the generous globe. Notching himself tighter into your body, smirk appearing as your eyes widen, gasp issuing from parted lips. Bitting the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling before the words can escape. “Is that a pickle in your pocket or you just happy to see me?”

“Oh sweetheart it’s a great big dill I can show ya,” flashing a smirk, both of you trying hard not to laugh.

“Preferably,” deep voice tinged with slight offense but liberally coated in amusement. “In your own room so the both of you aren’t bare ass naked in the hallway bumping like bunnies,” having rounded the corner towards the kitchen and catching the intimate embrace. “A vision I don’t want branded into my skull thank you very much,” Sam paused arms crossed in annoyance. Golden dotted green eyes dancing with mirth, catching the playfully scandalous expression cross your features. Glancing towards Dean who buries his face in your neck getting a deep chuckle from his brother.

Try as you might to keep from busting out laughing they just rolled out of your mouth as your eyes lock with Sam’s. Acting stoic but the smile tugging at his lips and the teasing flash through his eyes speak a different story. Only thing holding you up is Dean’s body still pressed heavily against your. The man in question glancing up first to look at you then over his shoulder towards Sam. “Don’t even start Sammy,” grumbling good-naturedly giving him a middle finger salute and the opening you need to slip from between his hard body and the wall. Teasing growl rumbling through his chest at the loss of your warmth. Dean reaches out to snag your arm but you manage to dance out of his reach, giggles echoing off the walls trailing behind your disappearing form.

“Wouldn’t dream of it Dean but Cas owes me fifty bucks,” patent Sam Winchester smirk sliding over his lips. Brow raised at his scoff, “Can’t believe I had a betting pot going?”

Watching you run off happy grin tipping his mouth upward, he looks back at Sam grin still in place. “Just can’t believe it’s with Cas. Rowena maybe, Jody, Claire, Alex and Donna fuck yes but Cas,” incredulous look stealing over his features for a few moments.

“Who say’s the bet’s not bigger than you think,” broad shoulders shrugging same smirk in place, Sam enters the kitchen on that note leaving Dean to stare wide eyed after his baby brother. “Matter of time, always just a matter of time,” laughter tinged voice exists the kitchen, unseen shake of his head at the mess left behind.

Stock still for a fraction of a second till soft giggles echo quietly down the hall, grin turning into full blown smile. Need rushing back through his veins in remembrance of your position just a few short moments ago. Low curse existing his mouth, Dean turns racing off to find which room you’re hiding in.

Nerves tingled through your body, worry interrupting thoughts/memories of short minutes ago. Hard press of his body against yours, warm moist breath fanning out over your skin sending tingles of a different kind to skitter across your veins. But now standing in Dean’s room trying to figure out where to lay or stand that would invoke images of sensuality. You look down at your bare feet toes wiggling against cold concrete. Up wards to thick jeans clad thighs, a baby blue tank top covering your torso, self consciousness went out the window decades ago. After the first serious injuries you suffered at the hands of a vengeful spirit had you damn near stripped naked in front of Dean. Confidence in face of adversity knowing he’s the only one for miles around to patch you up.

Now though is different, same confidence but wishing for sexier clothing something to entice and tease. Small snort issues from the depths of your body knowing damn well you had nothing of the sort in your possession. Flannels, tank tops, t-shirts and jeans hunter’s required staples along with the functional under garments you groan at remembering are mismatched at the present.

“Beautiful even in those rumpled clothing,” deep voice breaking through thoughts and making a squeak sound as you quickly turn to face the lazily leaning against the door jam hunter. Arms crossed over muscular chest, biceps straining the black t-shirt’s sleeves, “I meant what I said before Sammy interrupted us.”

Tugging your bottom lip back under indented top teeth turning to face him fully, “Which part?” Barely keeping the mirth from bubbling over, “That I should show you the way home or you have a big dill?” Easy going banter calming your nerves even the part about feeling ill-prepared clothing wise.

Tender infused whiskey fleck green eyes turn molten with each sweep of your body. “I love you,” words escape as eyes stay locked, Dean pushing away from the doorway. Booted foot catching the hardwood door and slamming it shut behind him. Stocking towards you as a lion would his prey, licking parched lips wanting to devour you. Hands fisting at his side though to keep from reaching out and doing just that incase it’s something your not ready for.

His breath froze upon seeing you walking around his room, something akin to relief floods his veins along with a sense of rightness. Sure you’ve come in hundreds of times to wake him from a nightmare or mornings, to barrow music and to talk. Yet, this time feels different giving your relationship changed moments ago. Catching the indecision clearly written in those beloved eyes that don’t focus on one place too long. For a moment Dean wishes he could read your thoughts but then having hunted and lived together for decades he picked up the situation and cues without having to know your thoughts.

Pleased hum breaks Dean from the wondering trail his thoughts took him on to spy the sweet smile gracing your lips. Hands positioned on your hips one cocked to the side as you stand there waiting expectedly. Restraining himself, Dean opens his palms to bring them up and cup your cheeks dragging you against him. Lips meeting in the tenderest of kisses that he keeps in place while speaking, “You want this, want me?”

Recognizing his vulnerability and what he’s asking with those simple words, arms wrap around his back fisting the shirt tightly to press the two of you together. Love saturated eyes burn into those greens you could drown in, “That’s my question Winchester stop stealing my lines.” Flattening one palm to slide up and into his hair. Pressing another kiss to his soft lips you’ve only imaged kissing till now. The reality so much better than any fantasy you ever came up with.

“Calling me a thief now sweetheart?” Using jokes to cover the fact he’s searching for the right words. Flustered and frustration slither through his veins in a combination Dean’s not accustom, words stammering of unintelligible nature tumble from his mouth. The feel of your blunt nails sending pleasurable shivers down his spine.

Nodding, craning your neck back a few inches but keeping your eyes locked, “You stole my lines and my heart Dean so yes that would make you a thief.” Hand sliding over his back now and settling into the back pocket of his jeans, “I also meant what I said back there.” Catching the cocked brow you elaborate, “Take me to bed Dean I’m tired of waiting, I want to know how it feels to have you inside me.”

Soft groan issues from parted lips. Wanting to act on your words so damn badly his body vibrates with barely contained desire. Forehead coming to rest against yours, strong hands sliding too loosely wrap around and caress your neck. “You know I’m not great at relationships. I could seriously fuck things up.”

“I know but then so could I,” any doubts or insecurities evaporating into the ether with every look.

Callused fingers brush over your bare shoulders sending sensual shivers cascading down your body. Rubbing your thighs together for added friction with the heated look Dean’s fixing you with. Boosting your confidence to step back his hands drop to the side as you own pinch at the hem of your tank top. Slowly pulling it from your body, letting it drop with a barely heard whisper.

“Fucking hell sweetheart,” resolve snapping, reaching for your hips and tugging you back against him harder than intended. Lips sealing quickly to swallow the gasp existed parted lips Dean takes advantage of and slips his tongue inside the warm cavern of your mouth.

There’s nothing gentle about this kiss, it’s all teeth and tongues, fighting desperately for dominance. Pulling groans from the depths of Dean’s soul as he pulls whimpers and moans from your own. Till air becomes needed though it doesn’t stop your mouth from trailing a hot path across his stubbled jaw. Nibbling towards that little patch behind his ear to flick the tip of your tongue against. Smirking at the shutter rolling through his body, fingers dancing a rhythm over his shirt covered torso. Hem reached you tug twice to which he nods reaching behind him grasping and pulling the garment off to join yours.

Hands, palms flat immediately going to ghost over his rippling tummy. Muscle covered soften causing all moisture to pool south, clit throbbing almost painfully. Sure you’ve seen him bare chested before this time it’s different. For pleasure instead of patching him up. Drawing desired groans rather than pain filled. “I know Sam would abject but I so wouldn’t mind seeing you walk around shirtless.”

Full belly chuckle leaves Dean’s lips, “Sweetheart don’t talk about other men right now especially not my brother.” Possessive hands landing on your naked plush waist, fingers spanning the distance and gripping the flesh in his palm. Dreams having nothing on the real woman in his palms.

“Just stating facts sir nothing more,” trailing your fingers over the slightly hair roughen skin. Brushing pebbled nipples from the cool air and your proximity. Reserving a gasp when you lean forward to lap with the tip of our tongue and nip at the peaked point. Glancing to lock eyes as you switch and give the same attention to its twin giving the same attention getting a hiss from your actions. Dragging you lips upward to trace his tattoo with kisses.

Molten green eyes drinking in the sight of your lips on his skin, shooting desire straight to his cock. Throbbing need demanding attention no matter how good your soft lips feel against his body. “Baby girl,” groaning at the nip you place, eyes close to compose himself. Flying open as air cool brushes his skin inside of the shared heat of both your bodies. Mesmerized by the way you reach back to unclasp your bra, pushing your lushes breasts out teasing his vision, salivating for a taste of your skin.

He steps forward crowding into your space backing you into the bed till the back of your calves hit the edge. Wrapping his arms around your plush form to brush hands away and do the task himself. Finger tips skimming the edges of both straps till reaching the top at your shoulders and drawing them down. Keeping his eyes locked with yours while pulling the garment from your pliant body tossing it behind him. Eyes flicking down on a groan, licking his dry lips at the beauty displayed for his ravenous gaze.

“Lay down for me sweetheart,” meeting your lust blown orbs with his own. “I wanna see you in my bed,” biting off a whimper when you drop onto the edge. Bountiful breasts bouncing teasingly as he watches you slide backwards towards the head board. Hands going to the button of your jeans, low growl pausing your nimble fingers. “That’s for me to do baby girl, just,” swallowing harshly as he looks you over. Partially naked spread out over his bed picture perfect memory for those times when the darkness tries to steal this happiness. “Give me a moment to drink you in.” Unable to decide where to look first, “So fucking gorgeous.” Toeing off his boots, hands going to his own jeans your shaking head pausing the movements.

“I get the same pleasure,” licking your lips slowly while raising up on your elbows. Beckoning him with two crooked fingers, hand resting with the palms up beside your plush body, “Get up here before I get impatience and take matters into my own hands.”

Declaration making him pause a moment low growl rumbling from deep with in his chest. As desire blown green meet yours, smirk gracing his handsome features. One knee comes to rest on the mattress Dean leans forward keeping eyes locked while pressing a kiss to your ankle. Grinning, feeling the quiver that runs through your body. “You wouldn’t dare sweetheart,” adding his other knee to spread your legs and slowly fit his body between.

“Shall we make a bet Winchester?” Using your free foot to brushing the nearest thigh with the flat. Sliding towards the very noticeable bulge busting the seams of his jeans, toes teasing the thick ridge before pressing the flat of your foot against him. Rubbing the length slowly pleased when a growl echos the room.

Grabbing that foot tickling the pad enjoying the way you squirm and giggle. Taking the opportunity to move fully between your legs. “About that bet hum,” fingertips drawing an invisible path of fire down the middle your body. Bracing then both arms on either side of your shoulders hovering over you, warm breath fanning out over your cheek he nuzzles with stubbled chin. Pulling a whimper from your gasping lips.

Of there own accord, your hands slide up the strength of his arms and biceps to clasping fingers together around the back of his neck. Left leg draped over his waist to pull him against your pelvis, breathless moan parting your lips at the contact of his hard length pressing into your dripping center. “I don’t want slow or gentle Dean,” head tipping back to give access to his questing lips that find your wildly thumping pulse, sucking a mark into the soft skin. “We have all night for that I just…” words caught upon seeing whiskey flecked green eyes dilated almost pitch with desire. Cheshire Cat grin tugging kiss swollen lips upward.

“Just what sweetheart?” Humming, brushing your lips together before returning to his last spot. One hand dragging over your soft body cupping the generous globe massaging gently feeling the nipple peak against his palm. Teasingly circling the stiff nub with the tip of his index finger before giving a sharp pinch and making you gasp out. Back arching at the pleasurable pain skittering across your veins.

Grasping what’s left of your mind to try and form coherent words, body responding instead pressing your chest into his large hand. Nails score down his back, one completing the journey to give his ass a tight squeeze. As the other detours to between your intimately pressed body. Happy to find enough space to slot your palm against his erection, cupping his throbbing length and giving short little strokes. Smile blooming with a breathless groan against your collarbone where Dean’s forehead currently rests. Nimble fingers pop the small metal disk, pulling the zipper tab down to slip the hand inside. Warmth enveloping palm feeling him twitch has you slowly licking your lips at the mire thought of getting to taste him.

“You’re killing me Y/N,” rutting his hips into your hand, mouth coming back to claim yours in a punishingly bruising kill. Tangling your tongues together, nipping a little harder on your bottom lip than meaning to but the accompanying moan flows straight to his cock. Making him twitch against your palm that has slowed with the distraction of the kiss.

Breaking for air, panting while trying to form and speak the right words, “We’re both a little over dressed Dean.” Pulling your hand from the tight confines of his jeans, using the one at his ass to help pull them and his boxers down only stopping when you couldn’t reach anything passed his knees. Sigh of relief exists his parted lips making you giggle and press a kiss to his chin. “Feel better?” Bottom lip trapped and nibbled on as your fingers brush his length. Finding your fingers barely wrap around the girth while to stroke, palm sliding over precum leaking head. Hips thrust forward at the sensations tingling down his back gathering low in his belly.

“Now who’s over dressed?” Mumbling the words against your skin. Dean regretfully brushes your hand aside grinning at the annoyed huff that leaves your lips. “Ah sweetheart put that sexy pout away you’ll get a chance to taste me soon enough. Cause if you keep using that soft hand on my cock I’ll cum faster than I want.”

His words presenting so many thoughts to run through your mind only cut off when wet warm heat engulfs your right nipple. Tongue flicking quickly over taut peak, blunt teeth nipping then soothing over with the tip of his tongue. Switching to the twin leaving both sloppy wet and tight, gleaming in the low light of his room. Worshipping at the temple of your body with kisses pressed into your tummy, running scared callused hands over your skin in silent reverence. Eyes taking in very inch Dean sits back on his knees between your parted legs. Tracing his knuckles along the seam of your jeans covered cunt, making you jolt against him.

Pausing to strip your jeans and panties from your body, tossing them and kicking his own off to land somewhere on the floor. Raising up on elbows to finally get a chance to look at him in all his naked glory. Tracing each divot of scars over a broad chest, passing over the middle to admire thick bowed legs spread wide. Lips licked slowly upon landing on his ridge cock, slightly curved and resting against his lower belly. Palm itching for a touch, mouth watering for that taste. “You’re beautiful Dean,” words whispered so low your unsure if he’s really heard them.

Heat blooms over his cheeks at your admission, looking your fill of his adonis body. Dean returns the admiration. Tracing the features of your beloved face, staring a little too long at your heaving breasts, soft tummy he wants to nibble on at some point. Thick thighs he can’t wait to have wrapped around his waist once he’s buried deep inside your wet heat. The very though has his eyes dropping between your parted legs, glistening folds beckoning him forward. Caught in that tempting trance, Dean slides back between your legs. Brushing his lips just above your mound and receiving a whimper from you. Locking eyes, “I think you got that backwards sweetheart, it’s you who’s beautiful.” Dipping to run the thick flat of his tongue through your folds, humming at the tangy sweetness exploding over his taste buds.

Hips cantering against his mouth, your own letting a deep moan free as one hand slides down to card through his short brown locks. Tugging the strands getting a groan to vibrate against your cunt while his talented tongue dances through your soaked folds. Torturing your clit with ghosted touches, one arm wraps around our thigh spreading you open. As the other slips a finger inside your wet channel, finding you squeezing and tight, garnering a deep groan of arousal from the man between your lips.

“Dean,” voice wrecked and he’s barely touched you. When he doesn’t answer or budge from his sensual assault on your cunt. Lips having formed a perfect O around your clit, tongue flicking kitten licks to the tiny nerve filled nub. Pleased with he whimpers and whines that filter through his desire filled mind.

Resulting in you tugging on his hair harder, back arching as a small shock rocks through your body, tingling your belly when he bites carefully on your clit. “Dean please,” eyes rolling back into your head at the added second finger. Crooked and pressing into the little spongy spot you’ve never had anyone touch. Ripping a half scream from the hidden depths of your soul.

Smug smirk tugging over slick wet lips, stubbled chin coming to rest just above your mound. Watching as you heave a breath, breasts catching his eyes for a moment till you tug again. Fingers anything but still as they thrust and scissor you open, working you carefully to fit his slightly above average length not wanting to hurt you. “Yes sweetheart?” Licking his lips from your slick.

Free hand coming up to cover your heated face, “Don’t sound so smug,” gasping the last word when his thumb brushes over your clit making you jump and wither. Heat spreading from that special spot in your belly, where the tight coil starts to wind higher. Thick thighs tremble with each sensation Dean draws out of you. “Need you, please, please.”

Caressing your quivering walls with the gun callused pads of his fingers, massaging your clit as you plead. Breath chocked out on another moan, chest heavy, heat coating your skin as you wither under him. “Ah but I can’t help myself sweetheart you don’t know what seeing you like this does to me.”

Gathering what little strength you have in your limbs to reach down and cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing over the skin under his eyes. “Why don’t you get up here and show me Dean?” Voice wreaked yet a tender undertone rides through the cadence.

Pressing a single kiss to the pulsing little clit, giving once last flick making your squirm and Dean to chuckle. Slowly pulling his fingers out, stroking twice more your hips chasing the indescribable ecstasy winding its way through your veins. Only to have the tingles dance slower, the coil start to unwind as frustrated huff leaving your gasping lips.

Taking advantage to plunder your mouth, greedy for a sample of the wet cavern and a tongue tango that draws out a sharp moan of need. Especially tasting your tangy sweetness from his lips, sucking the bottom between your teeth to nibble. While reaching blindly over to the nightstand, damn near yanking the whole draw on the ground in his haste. “Give me a sec woman,” huffing out he rolls slightly off you. The noise drawing a giggle out causing him too stiffen, glancing back with a playful glare to refocus on finding his prize.

Using the opportunity to nose the thick column of his neck, taking in the scent of whiskey, leather and motor oil, peppered now with sex and sweat. Addicting and unable to help yourself from sink your teeth into his skin gently but hard enough to leave a small soon to purple mark. Soothing over with the flat of your tongue catching sight of the pause your actions caused. The aroused moan that leaves his lips, head resting on the bed to try and gather himself from your onslaught.

“Something wrong Dean?” Nipping just below his jaw, tracing your fingers along his side. Index finger swirling through the spares, crisp hairs leading a path to what you’ve craved to have inside you for a long time. Nimble fingers surround the base forming a perfect circle that can’t close but tightens. Stroking his length teasingly slow. In return receiving a warning growl — the sound devastating your senses making you throb — from the man currently fishing for a condom and growing frustrated when his fingers come up empty. “Shall I stop my love? Am I distracting you?” Whispered words breathed into his ear, lips kissing the shell. Knowing damn well just how tormenting you are to his senes and body. If his twitching cock your hand currently wrapping around stroking and the shallow breaths are any indication.

“Ha,” triumphant shout of accomplishment, Dean rolls back over you pressing bodies together and into the mattress. “Now where were we?” Flashing that teasing smirk with a hard rutting of his hips against your dripping core and tight fisted hand.

“What to you so long stud?” Biting back the giggles when he fixes you with a scowl.

Breath hissing out through clinched teeth when taking your hand off his cock, bringing those wickedly wonderful fingers to his lips and sucking on each one with a short nibble. Placing the open condom pack in your palm, “Do the honors sweetheart.”

Curling your fingers around the little foil packet, pressing your other hand into the back of his neck drawing Dean in for a tender kiss. Slow meld of your lips, light sips of your warm mouths. Tenderly tugging his bottom lip, to slide your tongue over the bruised skin and into his mouth. Licking and touring the heated cavern, seeking out ways to make his moan and grunt. A moment of forgetfulness while mapping his tonsils and sucking on his tongue, till you break for air. Chasing his mouth for more kisses only to receive a chuckle instead.

Eyes open to spear him with a heated look, foil packet crinkling in your hand a remind of your mission. Slipping fingers from his soft hair, to trace over his body, joining its partner between the two of your heaving bodies. Unlocking your eyes to glance down, hand wrapping back around his thick shaft to stroke twice getting a needy moan from the man above you. Before teasingly rolling the condom on paying special attention to the thick pulsing vein on the underside, mouth watering at the thoughts of getting to taste it later.

Dean grasps one of your hips to bring the leg around his waist, opening you up and feeling your soft skin under his palm. Sliding between your bodies to entwine his fingers with your, pumping his cock together. Different sounds, a hiss from Dean and a moan from you exists on shuttering breaths. Eyes reattach both blown with desire and coated in need, you notch the head of his cock at your entrance pressing the heel of your foot into the small of his back to urge him forward.

Teeth clamping to draw blood from your bottom lip but also to keep from screaming out in pleasure as he slowly sinks inside your quivering depths. Reaching up with his other hand to free your bruised lip, brushing the pad of his thumb over the glistening skin. “I wanna hear you sweetheart don’t hold back.”

“What about Sam?” Breath hitching, mouth hanging open on a moan that’s trapped on the edge of a scream when he bottoms out against you. Bodies flush, joined hands now resting above your head where Dean’s placed them.

Leaning in to press open mouth kisses to your lips and neck letting you adjust to his size, the exquisite stretch thumps through your veins the slight sting only heightening the pleasure. “Never mention his name while we’re in bed sweetheart,” snagging the lobe of your ear with his teeth. Pleased when you nod speechless, though not enough, “Words baby girl I wanna hear that prefect voice of yours.”

Swallowing trying to form words to answer, scoring your nails down his back an impatience mewling whimper leaves instead. Using the leg not wrapped around Dean’s waist as leverage to plant and push your hips up against him. Squeezing your walls tightly around his shaft drawing out a grunt from his lips. “Dean…” going to say more but he chooses that moment to pull out till just the crown rested inside your pulsing channel. “Just you…” hips snapping forward to fill you quickly stealing those words into a loud scream of ecstasy.

Starting a hard punishing rhythm, repeatedly waiting till your fixing to speak and either pulling out or trusting home. Always taking away what your going to say. Knowing your trapped between frustration and pleasure, Dean captures your mouth in another deep kiss. While his hips snap against yours, wrapping the other leg around his waist to angle you differently. Pressing your intertwined hands into the pillow beside your head and breaking the bruising kiss to gulp a lung full of air into both your burning lungs.

Feeling your walls start to quiver around his hammering cock, knowing by the pinched look on your countenance, the quivering of your thick thighs clutching at his trim waist. Heels pressing into the small of his back drawing him forward with quickened strokes that he’s shortened from the long deep thrusts. Notching your legs higher on his waist to press forward, curling his pelvis into your core, determined to make you cum first. Wanting to feel you soak his cock, see the looks of pleasure dance across your features.

Sliding his fingers through your soaked folds to find your pearl pulsing, pressing the pad of his thumb circling to make a gasp fly from your lips. Back arching, tingles no longer gentle but tap dancing a rhythm through your veins. Dean’s name a chant from your dry, parched lips, panting to try and fill your starving lungs. Body vibrating on a higher frequency only Dean’s turned in on as with every snap of his hips, brush of his thumb sends your spiraling deeper into euphoria.

Reaching up to wrap your hand around his neck to bring him back down for another kiss. This one sloppy as the thrusts of Dean’s hips, brief touches of lips, wet slide of your tongues across the other. Eyes sliding closed only to snap back open with a pinch to your nipple soothed over my his teasing fingers.

“Keep those beautiful eyes open for me sweetheart and cum for me I know your close. You just gotta let go for me,” resting your foreheads together, gritting his teeth to starve off his own orgasm. The wet clinch almost too much for Dean to handle. Always wondering but never imagining how good this truly would feel.

“Dean,” breathing out his name, a series of moans and whimpers following. Trying to capture his mouth for another kiss that’s broken off when your orgasm slams into you soaking Dean’s cock in your slick. Eyes rolling back his name a screamed prayer from your lips.

Body convulsing in pleasurable all consuming fire, little sparks of light pin prick behind your tightly closed eyes. Moisture breath fans out over your neck where Dean buries his face, lips pressing into your skin. Chasing that high while working you through your orgasm the wet clinch of your walls prove too much to starve off any long. Giving in with a groan of your name rubbed into your skin as he fills the condom. Circling his hips a few more times to drag out the pleasurable spikes racking his frame.

Collapsing into your arms a welcome weight pressing you into the mattress as you both try to capture your breath. He brings your joined hands down starting to untwine them but the shake of your head stops the actions.

“For a few moments longer,” voice hoarse from screaming out your pleasure. Free hand coming up to card through his sweat drenched hair. Brushing the strands back from his forehead and sliding your lips over his. Brief touches, lingering into something deeper. Tender caresses of mouth’s, nibbling, and sucking softly on bruised skin. Dean starts to move getting a whimpered whine from your throat tightening your arms around him.

“Gotta clear you up sweetheart I’m not going anywhere,” reassuring you with another soft kiss while carefully pulling out of your tender depths. Mesmerized by the slick coating your tights and dripping from your convulsing walls. Brushing his fingers over the reddening swollen skin, gasp reaching his ears, eyes flying up to yours. Then flicking across your body seeing the beard burn on your neck and chest, hand prints blooming over your hips. “Did I hurt you?”

Sitting up to cup his cheeks, “No Dean you didn’t hurt me. If you had I would’ve told you.” Leaning in to kiss him tendering, “Better take care of that mess it’ll get awful sticky otherwise,” giving him a bright smile. Watching while he gingerly takes the spent condom off, tying it closed before tossing it into the waste bin by the night stand.

Raising to walk on shaky bowed legs to grab up the wash cloth from the sink. Wetting with warm water he turns back stunned to find you watching him with a grin on your lips. “Like what you see?”

“Hmm no,” seeing the frown you go to finish. “Love Dean, I see the man I love,” frown switching to teasing smirk as he nears the bed.

Nudging you to lay back and spread your legs, tenderly wiping you clean. Dragging the warm cloth over your folds and inner thighs. Tossing it behind him to crawl into bed gathering your pliant plush body against his hard chest. Back pressed into his front, arms wrapped tightly around your thick waist. Placing a kiss to your shoulder, “I love to you Y/N, get some rest I’m far from through with you.”

Soft giggles vibrate into his chest, “Careful you’re getting old baby you sure you’ll have the stamina?” Toying with the fingers tapping against your tummy sending shivers cross your body.

Low growl accompanies the drag of his teeth over your sensitive skin, drawing a moan from your lips. Pressing his hips into your generous ass, “Give me an hour sweetheart and I’ll show you just how much stamina your man has.”

#Request #SPN Mixed Bingo Square #Hurt/Comfort #Dean Winchester x Plus Size Female Reader #Dean Winchester x Plus Size Fem!Reader #Dean Winchester x Plus Size F!Reader #Supernatural fiction

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parcoeurs · 3 years ago

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Extremely fascinated by your wag AU tag 👀.

thanks bestie so am i.

okay lmao so this isn't an actual fic that'll ever be written but. i was talking to my friend about it who still hasn't finished dts season 3 unfortunately but it means that i've switched around ages and years etc. i promise this has the potential to be a fun and sexy time but there's just s o much background shit that needs to be discussed. tw for mentions of irl deaths etc:

but pierre & charles meeting when they're 5-6 (which is what i think charles actually says irl but someone said it might've been closer to when they were 10-11? regardless.) and charles' dad passes away when they're 9-10, and jules when they're 13-14 and charles quits racing then. (fyi i know that irl jules passed away first)

he thinks about quitting when his dad passes away but keeps going with help from jules. so when the accident etc happens, it's not even like an active decision he ponders. he just knows there's no way he'll race again.

and pierre's been with him throughout everything, his best friend who he can talk to when he can't bear looking at his own family. so he doesn't understand when pierre tells him he's going to keep racing. when charles had told him he was never going to get into a kart ever again, pierre had nodded, grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. important to note that they're barely teenagers rn so yes charles feels betrayed that pierre isn't feeling the same things he is and isn't choosing the same future for himself etc.

they have a huge fight, lots of crying, lots of dramatic teenage angst. but it ultimately ends with charles shutting pierre out of his life. which is easier said than done when it's your best friend whose family is super close with yours. but it works because pierre is off racing around the world and charles has done all he can to never have to think about that stuff.

so charles goes to school, is doing uni somewhere in europe. studies something generic like business or maybe if i'm feeling suuuuper indulgent i will have him major in environmental studies like moi <3 pointedly does not come to monaco during grand prix weekend or the week before or the week after.

and then anthoine passes away too. (they're 20-21 now)

they see each other again at the funeral but don't talk, they meet up afterwards. pierre breaking down in charles' arms, clutching at his back, telling him he was right. pierre should've quit, he can't do this anymore either. they haven't said a word to each other in 7 years but charles still knows pierre, and knows that this isn't actually what pierre wants. or what he should do. (charles vaguely knows pierre's in f1 but doesn't know he's with redbull, doesn't know redbull's the top team etc)

"you can still do this, you will," charles tells him.

"not without you again."

so then comes the challenge of mending their relationship while still working through the shared trauma, and the Layers of past trauma. and also just the general awkwardness that comes with a friendship breakup/makeup situation you know! they can't just act like nothing happened but would it be easier that way?

they start texting first, then they play fifa or cod together. (sometimes pierre's british friend lewis joins too.)

slowly slowly slowly, they become friends again and then inseparable too. maybe even closer than they were before and charles only now realizes how much he missed pierre. while pierre still can't believe he has charles back now, it's as good as he let himself imagine.

the part i'm unsure about is if i would want pierre's career trajectory to be the same or not. because i think the demotion adds SUCH a painful but interesting aspect to his ~storyline. but ultimately i think maybe he just doesn't get the second seat immediately. spends more years with toro rosso/alpha tauri before getting "called up" (sorry i have no idea what the proper terminology is haha ignore the nba/nhl terms).

he invites charles to his first race in the red bull and charles says no. immediately. pierre's quiet on the other side of the phone, internally thinking he messed this up somehow. he thought things were going well and he takes this as charles doesn't want to see him. but he knows there's a lot more that's stopping charles and he also knows charles will definitely pull back if pierre asks about the other stuff. so he moves right along, asking charles about school, the weather, and tries not to let it show in his voice that he misses his best friend and needs him too.

"i'm going to try to watch," charles says, after pierre's yawned goodnight through the phone and is waiting for him to hang up. because you know pierre's not going to hang up first.

"what?"

"the race. i'm going to try. goodnight!" mentally charles slams the phone shut but really he just smashes at the red button before shoving it under his bed and looking at his hands trying to get answers for what he just did.

his only relief is that he didn't promise pierre he would watch, just that he would try. couldn't even choke out a, "good luck." (insert long paragraph about charles letting pierre down or thinking he has).

he only watches qualifying. pierre p3. already knows on saturday that there's no way he can watch the actual race.

but on sunday when he's supposed to be going over his notes for his climate change science & policy course (yes.... i did it...) he finds himself with his heart in his mouth refreshing formula1 dot com. watches the random names move up and down while keeping his eyes on 10 - gasly. (starts shaking for a second when he sees pierre's name drop until the IN PIT sign comes up across his name. fellas the thing about triggers is-- anyways.)

the scariest part is that by the time he's scrolled through all of red bull's socials to look at pictures of pierre on the podium (he finished p2 sorry i know this truly does not matter), he's forgotten about the race. the anxiety sits small in the back of his throat, his happiness for pierre is bright and loud in front of him. charles sends him a message, asking him to call whenever he can and adds a blue & red heart emoji which feels like a Big Step. but basically pierre calls and acts like nothing has happened since the last time they talked. mentions the breakfast he had in detail as if he didn’t get a podium in his first race with red bull. finally with a big team. but charles embarrassingly realizes that maybe his text didn't exactly imply in literally any way whatsoever that he knows the results of the race and was trying to congratulate pierre with this call. charles probably feels so embarrassed at this point but somehow still can't manage to say anything about the race until the next day maybe.

maybe texts pierre, good job. or, you were great. or something about him and not the race. or maybe reposts a picture from red bull but not one of pierre in his car, pointedly. only one of him on the podium. and pierre probably reposts it with the squid emoji and/or my favourite sentence in the world, merci petit calamaro.

charles cries when he reads it.

not to be lazy now but [insert 10k words of them building their friendship. meeting up in monaco with both of their families. meeting in milan or london or paris idk where pierre would live. but he flies charles out. not on a private jet because charles flat out refused lol. not because he's an environmentally conscious king he's just too, embarrassed? overwhelmed? by pierre doing Things Like That for him. even though he wants it lol. like when he graduates he's soooo annoyed that pierre couldn't come celebrate immediately because it was race week. but when he comes home his apartment is filled with flowers (roses, his favourite) and balloons and a giant teddy bear as tall as charles. and he DOES post 12 instagram stories to go with the other 30 from his other friends congratulating him. so yeah charles goes through a lot of personal growth and therapy. to the point where he's watching pierre race again, and waiting for him to invite him to a race again!!! do not even think about actual dates i'm fucking begging you but the one he goes to is monza :))))]

ultimately charles' path to understand/accepting/moving on from, his trauma, happens once he has pierre back in his life. it's also encouraged by pierre, but it's also not entirely because of him. not sure how to word that but yeah. these things are happening at the same time but charles still has to go through them by himself.

pierre takes him on romantic dates all around the world and charles doesn't realize that's what they are. fully in his bestie vibes only mood while pining for pierre in a way he doesn't even quite understand. almost a self deprecating, jeez whoever gets to date pierre is going to be so lucky :/

fanpage on ig: met pierre's alleged bf he's so pretty and sweet, i complimented his shoes and he was so nice. charles reading that: i didnt know he was dating someone :( why wouldn't he tell me :( well at least someone complimented my shoes today :(

pierre doesn't necessarily think they're dating, but he does know charles doesn't quite realize what they're doing so he's just waiting for him to come to terms with it.

not to give this au 10 different subplots but yeah that miscommunication plot becomes our prize for surviving through the first part of this.

but yeah at the last race of the year, that pierre wins because i said so? charles finds him before he goes on to the podium, kisses his helmet. says i love you, i'm so proud of you.

THEN, finally, charles does become pierre's wag. we made it kids. we did it joe.

#rs #anonymous #asks #1016 #just checked this is 1.7k words i am so so so sorry

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years ago

Text

Warmth (LoV x Reader)

Pairing: League of Villains x Reader (Platonic)

Appearances by Toga, Dabi, Shigaraki, Twice, Kurogiri

Someone on Wattpad requested: “hi! idk if you're still doing requests or not (and you don't have to do this if you want to) but can you do a platonic LoV where the reader is in a abusive relationship and she's coming back to the hide out and she goes to her room to cover up the bruises and stuff and toga come in asking to hangout when she see the bruises on the reader and goes and tells the league without the reader knowing. you can end it with some family fluff if you want.”

Genre: Angst/Comfort

Warnings: Mentions of physical/mental/emotional abuse

Word Count: 1,324

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: Yes, listening to The Neighbourhood while writing this hits different

This will be gender neutral on both fronts, in terms of the aggressor and the reader, since abuse can come from anyone. If you're in an abusive relationship, please get help and break out of that relationship if you can before it escalates. You are worth so much more and deserve to be with someone who will love and cherish you and not treat you like trash💖

"There you are." Kurogiri wipes down his glasses as per his normal routine. "The kids were wondering when you would come back, they're waiting for you."

Act natural. I tug at the sleeves of my jacket and . "Y-Yeah, if they ask again, I'm just changing my clothes. I think it's chilly, I want my hoodie, y'know?" You're talking too much, that's not natural! I scurry off to my room before Kurogiri can comment about my strange behavior.

Retreating into my room, I make sure to shut it closed so no one can see. Ripping off my jacket and my tattered shirt, I throw the latter into a corner of my closet where no one will see. Once I slip my black hoodie over my head and stand in front of the mirror, the first thing I see is the discoloration on my neck still peeking out from the collar. Putting my hoodie up doesn't help anything either, to my dismay.

I have no choice but to pull out the concealer and color corrector. My intense stare focuses on the pigmented tender spot as I pat it. I guess it was my fault this happened anyway.

The door suddenly opens in the midst of my wallowing and I pull the neck of my hoodie up before turning around.

Toga bares her fangs at me with her wide smile. "(Y/n)~" she sings, "You're back finally! Dabi and Shiggy wanna go out for a while, we were waiting for you to go!"

"Oh, yeah, I heard from Kurogiri, I'm just, uh, fixing my hair and changing my clothes because it's cold outside." My heart still pounds from her entering so suddenly. I nervously pretend to rub my neck just in case.

Her smile drops into confusion as she scans me. "You're awfully jittery, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine!" I smile as enthusiastically as possible. "Just give me another minute, I'll meet you guys out front!"

With that, she's back to her blushing face and grin. "Okay! We're waiting!"

Once she shuts the door behind her, I turn back to the mirror and remove my hand. Good enough, I sigh, At least it'll be dark.

"So, how was your date?" Shigaraki takes a sip of his beer. I know he's only asking to make conversation, he's indifferent to my relationship.

I finger my own cool metal can. "Fine, we just watched a movie in the house." I resist my instinct to flinch at the memory of the screams. "Nothing special."

"You guys have been going out for a while, huh?" Toga rests her head in her hands dreamily. "What's it like being in love?"

Love, huh? "It's...something." I try skewing my voice to sound vague and mysterious. "It's a lot of feelings, I can't really explain it." It's best if I don't answer directly.

"You're pretty inseparable, I'd say." Smoke rings lazily emerge from Dabi's blue fire.

Only because I'm told to. "We just can't stay away from each other," I muster a smile and another sip of my beer.

Turquoise eyes study me from the side before the circle of fire disappears from his hand and he faces me fully. "You're happy, right?"

His question catches me off guard as I almost choke, but I quickly recover. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

Waking up at the hideout the next afternoon is lonely and quiet. Patting into the kitchen for food confirms my suspicions that no one's home. Though I'm disappointed, it's assuring that I can use a heating pad for my marks without anyone commenting.

As I sit in front of my mirror facing my shame, I can't help checking my phone for any messages. My notifications are empty. Not that I expect anything less, it would be much more surprising if an apology was waiting for me. Because I'm the one who should be apologizing.

I start texting with my one hand, holding the heat pack to my neck. At least the temperature provides some kind of comfort in such a small space of my body, though I wish it would encompass me entirely. The message sends, but it doesn't get read for a few minutes. That's not normal, usually I'll be left on read. They must really be angry. My body goes colder with shame. Our fight must've been worse than I thought.

I hear the front door slam open suddenly, heavy footsteps approaching my room quickly. I don't know what to do with the heat pack. As I'm panicking, the group storms into my room, catching me with it in my hand dumbly. The boys' gazes all intently lock onto my face.

Toga lazily sits next to me, brandishing her knife as if it's the most casual thing. "(Y/n)~ I wanted to ask you last night, what happened to you?" She points the blade at my neck.

The darkness didn't hide it that well then, or she must've seen in my room last night after all. "I-I got into a fight." I rub the tender spot nervously.

"Yeah, with your supposed lover," Dabi spits, crossing his arms over his chest.

My body loses all heat as I go numb. "W-What-?" How did they find out? My eyes flicker to the pseudo-innocent schoolgirl on the bed. She must've told them, but how did she know?

"Why didn't you tell us what was going on? Why would you let something like this go on?" the raven haired man continues reprimanding me.

I lower my head at his intimidating stare. I knew they'd be mad for not telling them, but I didn't want to worry them either. "I wanted to take care of it myself," my feeble voice answers halfheartedly.

"You know, we would've taken care of that trashbag earlier if you'd said something." Twice cracks the bones in his fingers one by one. "I don't care who they are, I'll destroy them either way."

My head snaps up. "What do you mean you took care-?"

"We paid that loser a visit," Shigaraki stuffs a hand in his pocket, careful to stick his thumb out so it doesn't touch his pants. "Let's just say we took care of your breakup for you, in our unique way of course."

I'm in disbelief. They were all angry for me and decided to take matters into their own hands? "Y-You did that for m-me?" My body starts trembling.

"You're our family," Toga grins, walking over to me and wraps her arms around my neck from behind. "Why wouldn't we eliminate someone ruining your life?"

My eyes well with tears the same way my chest fills with the undeserving warmth she's providing me with. "Because I don't deserve it?"

"Oh, please, no one deserves to be unhappy or bullied by someone they love." Twice joins the hug between the two of us, his large arms attacking from the other side.

"I'll pass on the hug," Shigaraki mumbles and retreats from the room, but there's a smile on his chapped lips.

"Dabi, don't you dare leave this room without contributing to the hug!" Twice bellows as the other man turns to leave.

His blue eyes roll and he huffs. "Fine, just this once for you, kid. Don't get used to it." He awkwardly fits over our bodies, his warmth the last straw that allows my tears to overflow.

"We're your support group, silly," Toga comforts me, wiping my face, "Who else is gonna have your back like us?"

"Yeah, people are super cruel!" Twice chimes in.

"Can I leave now?" Dabi groans impatiently.

I release my grip on the heating pad and grip the arms around me, leaning my head onto Toga's. Part of me wants to ground myself in this moment, their strange affection filling the void inside me. I don't want to move from this spot, smothered under these three bodies of my home, my trusted comrades. Next time - even though I pray there's no next time - I know if I need comfort, if I need warmth, I just need to ask for it.

#league of villians x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dabi #shigaraki tomura #toga himiko #mha twice #mha kurogiri #request #angst #comfort #platonic #gender neutral reader #league of villains imagine #league of villains scenario #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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fortheloveoffanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Groupie

Shane Falco x Reader (A/n- The things I do at 1am. Idk if its any good. Also, I feel like it’s important to mention that I don’t know squat about about football, so every one of these terms came straight from google)

Masterlist

Her bright, wide eyes followed him around the lush, green field, sectioned off with the distinct white markings. Her mouth hung agape in anticipation as she clutched her half drank beer tightly. It was easy for Y/n to identify him as Shane moved strategically around the field, not just by the bold number ‘16’ printed on the front and back of his bright red, currently grass stained, t-shirt, but also by his build, the way he carried the ball as he ran and really, just everything about him. She would know Shane from a mile away with the pouring rain blurring her vision.

Y/n’s heart thumped erratically against her ribs and she bit down on her lower lip, gnawing a little harder every time things got too close to being in the other team’s favor. The score was already neck and neck; the Sentinels only had a three point lead and the final quarter was dwindling down to the end. Just one misstep could have Ohio tying, or worst yet, taking the game home. And Y/n knew how that would go, the entire team would beat themselves up about it for months, and she hated the thought of them being down. Worst yet, she hated the thought of Shane carrying that with him; he put his heart and soul into each game, and would often spend far too much time thinking up alternate plays.

The losses were his, the wins were the team’s.

At some point, right about when the clock had ticked down to three minutes being left, Ohio took control of the ball again, and their running back nearing the end zone at an alarming rate. A chilly silence befell the mass of Washington supporters, mostly because everyone, herself included had started holding their breaths. The timer was growing closer to zero and that would be the last touchdown. Y/n swore that her toes curled in her Chucks and she was clutching the cold can so tight that it was hard to believe none of her beverage had spilt out. It was heartbreaking to even think that the Sentinels might lose. “Come on,” she whispered under her breath, buzzing in her place, too anxious to even think about taking her seat. Y/n’s jaw was clenched, and beside her, she could vaguely hear an older man literally praying for things to take a turn.

There were advantages to having lower level seats, the ones nearer to their field. One of them was seeing the action unhampered, everything unfolded before you, like it was happening, just for you. Box seats were great, but club seats, that was where nothing missed you. Everything was in real time; every pass, tackle and touchdown. Right there, before your eyes. That was what Y/n loved, and she was reminded of just then when the, happening so fast and in slow motion all at once, one of their players tackled Ohio’s running back, sending him to the ground, seizing control once again. The ball sailed through the air, and she gasped excitedly, when a familiar figure grabbed it in leap, bounding towards the last touchdown of the night.

Merely a handful of seconds had passed when a cheer of victory erupted around her, and Y/n joined them, jumping up with her hands in the air as Shane dove onto the grass, the commentator ecstatically announcing, “And Falco scores the final touchdown of the night, the Sentinels have taken this one folks! What a great game!”

Even as the team gathered at the center of the greenery, hoisting key players of the evening on their shoulders, and dunking coolers of Gatorade on each other, the fans kept chanting exuberantly. That time, when Y/n’s heart quickened, it wasn’t anticipation, it was from exhilaration. She wanted nothing more than to just bypass every barricade and security guard and just make a mad dash into a pair of bulky arms, planting a celebratory kiss on his lips, but Y/n knew she couldn’t, at least, not without chancing an arrest. So instead, she waited.

“Oh wow,” she gasped, looking around at the mess that was the locker room. Most of the clothes had been removed, along with the bags of the other players who’d already left, but there were still used, damp towels, forgotten jerseys and water bottles littering the benches and worn tiled floor. Men. “That’s gonna hurt tomorrow,” Y/n winced sympathetically, noting the darkening bruise on the shoulder of the man before her.

“Hurts right now.” At the sound of her voice, the only player left behind, the man of the hour and quarterback himself, Shane Falco, turned to face her. He was only wearing a towel, wrapped around his waist, most of his hulking frame deliciously exposed. There was an ice pack resting on his shoulder and his hair was still damp, though Y/n couldn’t tell if it was sweat from his shower. “What’re you doing back here?” He probed, an amused glimmer in his eyes and a bewildered smile quirking his lips, “There’s a rule; no ladies allowed.”

“Oh,” Y/n mouthed with a shallow nod, pushing off from where she was leaning against the door frame. Unfolding her arms, she absently tugged on the hem of her thin red t-shirt, bringing the scoop neckline low enough to tease wandering eyes with a nice view of the top of her cleavage. And of course, just like she expected, his dark gaze fell, right where she wanted it too. “No exceptions?” She probed innocently.

“Well…..” Shane trailed off for a minute as Y/n sauntered in his direction, swaying her hips as she inched closer. His eyes roamed her form, taking everything, starting with her smooth, exposed legs, then upwards to her tight t-shirt with his number printed across her breasts and her loose ponytail swept to the side, brining attention to the delicate column of Y/n’s neck. “I guess…..” he stuttered, clearing his throat, licking his lips, “I guess…..there could be one exception. Depends really.”

A breathless smile teased her pink lips and Y/n arched her brows, “Yeah?” She taunted, “Like, for a groupie. I mean, she’s a huge fan.”

Huffing a soft chuckle and looking away for the slightest second, Shane fought a wide grin, itching to get his hands on her. But he waited though, opting to look at her again, with a stare so intense and Y/n swore he would pounce at any given moment. “It could be arranged,” he reached to rub the back of his neck, wincing at the pull in his sore muscles when he did. “Especially if she’s hot.”

Y/n giggled, finally getting within reach, letting Shane reel her in with hands planted firmly on her waist, “You think I’m hot?” She smirked, mischief dancing her eyes as she looped her arms around his neck, pressing herself to his broad chest.

“Smoking,” he emphasized, large, calloused hands roaming her denim clad ass, brushing the hem of her faded shorts.

“Just smoking hot?” Y/n tilted her head, to the side and even on her toes, her height, especially in flats, was barely enough to meet his lips.

“Smoking hot…..” Shane bent lower, just so his lips would hover over hers, “Gorgeous, intelligent, sweet, looks great in my jersey and the best cheerleader a guy could ask for.”

Nudging herself closer to him, Y/n anticipated the moment where he’d finally lay his lips on hers. She glazed his features, drinking in every inch of his face. Her favorite face, the one she’d fallen in love with. The boyish smile, the bottomless eyes and that bit of hair that always framed his perfect face. “I’m not a cheerleader,” she quipped, her tone light and teasing.

“You’re my cheerleader,” he growled, capturing her mouth in a hungry, fervent kiss; his tongue glazing over hers in between moments spent with Y/n nibbling on his lower lip. He tasted exactly like you expected your favorite person in the whole world to, so sweet that stars danced on her closed lids and a distinct warmth spread bloomed in her chest. Her wispy fingers laced in his damp hair and she couldn’t help but try to close the inexistent distance between them. That was definitely her favorite part of a game. Well, maybe, post-game. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

“I told you, I’m a groupie. A good groupie doesn’t miss big games,” even when they broke, Y/n and Shane lingered contentedly in each other’s arms, not caring that someone could walk in at any given moment, catching them in the midst of breaking the ‘off limits’ rules. “Besides, I’m totally in love with you so…..”

“Oh you’re in love with me?” It was his turn to tease, earning himself a playful slap on the shoulder, “Well, it just so happens that I’m totally in love with you too.”

“Good,” Y/n laid her palm on the back of Shane’s neck, pulling him in for another feverish kiss. "I almost forgot," she sighed when they broke for another breath, "Congratulations on the game tonight."

"Thanks," Shane chuckled, going in for yet another kiss, that one intent on the crook of her neck, frowning when Y/n stopped him, "What? It's not like we've never done it in here before."

"Yeah, but don't you wanna celebrate with your team? They're probably waiting for you at the bar."

"They'll have to wait a little longer," smiling against her pursed, kiss-swollen lips, his rough, stocky fingers eventually reached between to undo the brass button of Y/n's shorts, "Cause right now I'd much rather be celebrating with my favorite groupie."

By then, the ice pack numbing his shoulder had fallen noisily to the ground, melting and unnoticed. Y/n's fingers toyed with the ends of Shane's hair, the other sliding forward to cup his neck, "Glad to hear it," she mumbled between kisses, "Cause I'd rather celebrate with my favorite quarterback."

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x you #shane falco #the replacements #shane falco x reader #keanu reeves x reader #the replacements 2000 #keanu reeves y/n #shane falco x you #shane falco x y/n

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peaches-writes · 4 years ago

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how to appease your asian aunties ch. 3 - spring break

* icym: this was prev. a guide to social gatherings but i changed the title bc i still think i’m funny that way

description: in the immortal words of blood-related aunts and aunts you’re not even related to but forced to call your aunt at reunion parties, “do you have a boyfriend?” member: jisung / han genre: fluff, fake dating au, implied rich kids au, eventual childhood / best friends to lovers au, college au, implied fem reader (but i still used they/them pronouns) word count: 5.4k chapter warning: food, a conversation calling out toxic asian family culture oops note: i’m not confident with this one bc i had to re-write this two times (?) with diff. plot directions + srsly idk what happened here what was the point am i ok + i didn’t post this accidentally this time !!!!

ch. 1 // ch. 2 // series masterlist

After seeing you and Jisung interact during your trip to the mall, your mom has started loving this new idea of you dating one of her close friends’ sons so much that she has not-so-discreetly started conspiring with Mrs. Han in order to see the two of you together as much as possible. From invitations for snacks and drinks at one’s house every day after school to whole-day activities on the weekends (usually to the mall or the cinema), it didn’t take long before you and your own best friend put two and two together and conclude that your respective moms have somewhat developed an auntie type of obsession over your fake relationship.

This idea that your moms would love you and Jisung together so much to this extent initially flew past your head when you started this fake relationship last Christmas. You were only thinking of casually fake dating your best friend, after all; such arrangement ideally confined only in social gatherings where invasive relatives and family friends ask about your love life endlessly. You genuinely did not expect that that Jisung would start tagging along to you and your parents’ Sunday movie dates and side with your dad every time you disagree on your selected movie’s ending; or that you would not be parting ways with Jisung after school anymore when you reach your house and he has to drive another block to get to his.

But for the most part, you’ve decided as the weeks fly by with this new added twist in your everyday, it’s fun and, even at times, cute. Though Mrs. Han dotes on you more now, like you’re her own child, and your mom is starting to be more talkative around Jisung since they now have you to talk about, you still get to eat snacks either your mom or Mrs. Han made, hog the extraordinarily fast wifi at Jisung’s house, and get free movie tickets and shopping bags from when you’re going out with the other’s family on the weekends. Plus, it’s made your workaholic mom come home earlier just to see you and Jisung lounging in your living room and Mrs. Han’s worries lessen now that Jisung’s busy with something else that isn’t academics or whatever it is he does with his Bumble and Tinder apps.

At times, it’s tiring having to hang out with your best friend under the guise of a couple, especially when you didn’t really plan for it to be this way, but you can’t deny that there are perks to it.

So, you wait more patiently for Jisung every day after your classes now even when he usually takes a lot of detours to see his friends before driving over to you on the other side of campus. You still hang out with your friends, Ryujin and Chaeryeong, after classes, of course, but you part ways with them just a little bit earlier now to anticipate Jisung’s Convertible pulling up in front of your building and unnecessarily yelling at you to get in even when he’s the one awfully late.

Because if you were to choose between your other best friends and a free expensive snacks, you’d always choose the latter without fail.

“You know,” Chaeryeong comments next to you on this particular Friday, stretching her legs down to the steps below you three while you scroll through your phone and Ryujin naps on your shoulder with her earphones still plugged in. “if I didn’t know that you’re ditching us earlier for free fake dating food, I would’ve thought that you and squirrel boy were seriously dating.”

“You always think we’re dating either way.” You roll your eyes, not even sparing a glance at the smug grin on her features. “Anyway, aren’t you happy we’re ‘dating’ now? It’s what you’ve always hoped for but, you know, fake.”

Only then do you turn to Chaeryeong over your shoulder, also scrolling through her social media on her phone. She meets your gaze after with a scrunched up nose and furrowed eyebrows. “Hm,” She pretends to contemplate, placing her index finger up to her chin. “I don’t know. I think I’ll have to wait until someone caves and you actually develop feelings for each other—like in books!”

“Seriously?” You deadpan with pursed lips, only making her laugh. “Of all things you could bring up.”

Chaeryeong shrugs in response with a knowing smile, chuckling when your expression doesn’t change. “You never know!” She replies in her defense, laughing all the way. “You did say after break that you’re just going to fake date if there’s an event but it’s Spring Break tomorrow already and you’ve been fake dating every day since classes started again.”

“Sounds like a romantic trope to me.” She comments last teasingly before you can even interject, swiftly dodging your hand when you reach up to try and smack her. Literature majors, really.

“For one, I don’t want to date Jisung, I’ve seen enough of him my whole life for that and I don’t think I’m in the mood to date in general. And besides, we’re only a ‘couple’ at home when someone’s mom is watching.” You counter as you retract your free hand back to your side, alternating your gaze between her and your other hand with your phone. Jisung’s last message is that of him informing you that he’s making a quick stop at the International Relations department today to hand Hyunjin his books ten minutes ago. Knowing him, if he didn’t get lost or got distracted by a kiosk selling coffee, he’s probably on his way now. “And you know I love free stuff, it just happens to come only if I hang out with Jisung these days.”

“So what happens when you ‘break up’? And I don’t mean the cute perks from the aunties.” Chaeryeong asks next, leaning back on her propped elbows now that the stairs going up to your college building have started to cool down from being exposed to the sun the entire day. “I mean, it’s back to normal for us as your friends—I do miss not having to remind my parents that you’re a couple now—but your moms are going to think it’s weird that you suddenly broke up and went back to being friends like nothing happened.”

“I already told you and everyone else, we’ll think about that when it happens.” You shrug both at her and the nagging thought in your mind that she has a point.

“And when exactly will that happen?” She prods on, smiling smugly at knowing that you and Jisung never talked about this certain part of your current predicament clearly. “‘Dating until everyone doesn’t think of Jisung as a fuckboy or when aunties stop offering blind dates’ sounds vague to me.”

You see Chaeryeong’s smile grow bigger when you don’t answer immediately, accidentally letting time pass until Jisung’s gray Convertible pulls up steps below you with an obnoxious honk.

“Y/N, my mom bought gelato today!” Jisung yells at you from his roofless car, his radio blasting Bermuda Triangle at an embarrassingly loud volume. “Let’s go!”

You then quickly shake Ryujin awake in response, gently moving her to Chaeryeong’s legs when her eyes open, before standing up and waving goodbye at your two friends. “Like I said, I’ll let you know when it happens.” You hurriedly conclude your conversation with Chaeryeong with a triumphant smile, making her roll her eyes. “See you after the break!”

Chaeryeong only shakes her head in disbelief, easily letting you go from her interrogation with a wave goodbye. “You be careful now, hm? Have fun with your ice cream, then!”

You chuckle as you run down the stairs, waving your hand up for her as you move away without sparing a last glance. “Don’t worry, I’ll take pictures!” At this, you open the front passenger seat to Jisung’s car and smoothly slide in, haphazardly discarding your backpack next to his at the back before closing the door next to you. “Hey, ugly. Glad you didn’t get lost on campus.”

“Speak for yourself, ugly.” Jisung teases back, shifting the car’s gear back to ‘Drive.’ “How was your day? You three look so bored out of your mind there.”

"Better now that we’re going to eat ice cream at home.” You put your seatbelt on as Jisung now drives the car home, reaching over to the radio in between the two of you after and lowering the volume. “Classes were tiring as usual. What flavors did auntie get, by the way?”

Jisung almost makes the wrong turn with your choice of words, quickly gathering his thoughts and shaking his head. “Fu—u-um, Ferrero, strawberry, and mint choco, that’s what she texted me.” He shrugs, making the correct turn to the nearest campus gate this time.

From the corner of his eyes, you nod with a hum as you sink back in your seat, completely missing the way you unconsciously caught him off-guard even with the screech of the car tires. “Oh, cool—no pun intended there.” You chuckle to yourself, leaning to the opposite side now to watch the college buildings pass by. “We’re watching The Conjuring 2, right?”

“Yeah.” Jisung scoffs, brushing off what remains of his sudden nervous feeling with the comment. “Tch, cool.”

Like every Wednesday and Friday that Mrs. Han prepares you after school snacks and drinks, you and Jisung go through tubs of ice cream and tumblers of water while a horror film is projected on the television of the Han’s ground floor living room. Mrs. Han, who has her office day off on Fridays, would occasionally drop by and either ask if the two of you need anything or comment on her distaste for horror under her breath.

“Oh, oh, dear.” She clutches her pearls dramatically, much like her son would, as she passes by for the sixth time to go to the kitchen and catches another glimpse of The Conjuring in the process. She then turns to you and Jisung after to calm her nerves, catching you still sprawled across the sofa with your legs lazily piled on top of Jisung’s.

Of course she’s seen you in the same position before in the few times you came over as one of Jisung’s friends but the sight now seems different under the guise that you and her son are a couple. Typical mom.

“Hi, auntie!” You greet her when you catch her from the corner of your eye also for the sixth time, waving your empty spoon in greeting with one hand while the other blindly reaches for Jisung’s laptop on the coffee table to pause the movie. Jisung hides his face under a throw pillow at this, already having enough of his mom snooping around for today and you giving her the time of day. Since when did you get comfy with his mom, anyway? “Do you need anything?”

Mrs. Han immediately shakes her head with a dismissive wave and smile. “Ah, nothing, I was just checking up on you two!” She clarifies again. “Do you need anything? Extra pillows? More water?”

You shake your head politely, holding up the water tumblers on your other side reassuringly. “We’re good but thank you!”

At this, Mrs. Han clasps her hands together in satisfaction. “Alright, if you need anything, I’ll be in the kitchen, then!” She concludes, taking a step back from the door frame. “You’re staying for dinner, right, Y/N?”

You glance over at Jisung, prying the throw pillow away from his face enough to see him shaking his head and making you feign a teasing frown for his mom. “You don’t want me to stay over dinner, babe?” You taunt with a smile, chuckling when he pushes the pillow back onto his face. Turning to Mrs. Han, you add, “I think Sung doesn’t want me staying for dinner, auntie, but I’ll gladly stay over if you want me to; anyway, my parents are coming home late today.”

“What? Oh, he’s just being shy!” Mrs. Han dismisses with another wave of her hand. “Please do stay for dinner. I’ll text your mom for you too.”

“Alright, if you say so.” You nod, giving her your sweetest smile now. “Thank you so much!”

With that, Mrs. Han then bids you goodbye and proceeds to the kitchen. When the sound of her stilettos fades outside the living room, Jisung removes the throw pillow in front of his face with a groan, scooting closer to you until his shoulders bumped into yours. “My mom, seriously.” He then smacks you on the shoulder with the throw pillow as you press ‘play’ on his laptop again. “Ya, are you seriously dining with us tonight?”

You kick his legs under yours in response. “I think it’s cute, it’s not like she caught us doing something weird.” You shrug in his mom’s defense. “And yes, I’m staying over because your mom is clearly cooking tonight and I can’t say no to an offer and free food.”

“I’ll have to get back at you when we’re back at your house on Monday.” He counters back, shamelessly dipping his spoon on the mint chocolate ice cream in your hands. As he bites on the small chocolate drops on the ice cream, a thought then crosses his mind and he asks, “Wait, are we still hanging out on Spring Break?”

You turn to him, swatting his hand belatedly before taking a big chunk of his strawberry ice cream. “I don’t know, my mom hasn’t mentioned anything and I don’t think my parents have any plans of going on vacation this break.” You answer truthfully before eating the spoonful of ice cream. “What about auntie?”

“Nothing from her too.” He shakes his head. “Though we’re definitely going on vacation this Break—my dad really wants to check out the new Jeju hotel.”

“When are you coming home?”

“Friday night, I think? We leave on Sunday.” He answers, taking a sip of water now that the taste of ice cream is now making his mouth feel sticky. He takes note of how you used the same word again, recovering quicker this time before he could even choke. “So we’re definitely not hanging out on those days.”

You hum against another spoonful of ice cream, this time from the Ferrero ice cream in the small gap between the two of you. “I mean, it’d be nice to be away from you for once—we’ve literally been joined to the hip after classes and most weekends since the New Year—but that would mean no free food which would be a shame; I really like your mom’s cooking.”

“Ouch, I didn’t know you don’t like spending more time with me just for me.” He clutches his chest dramatically, hugging the throw pillow again. “I thought you’d like this since I was away for a year.”

“We barely hung out before you even left.” You chuckle in amusement, grabbing the pillow from him again and this time lazily discarding it to the other end of the sofa. “I already thought you’re annoying the rare times we hung out before. Now, you’re just the bane of my existence.”

Next to you, Jisung laughs along belatedly, holding his ice cream tub away when you try and take another spoonful of strawberry from him. “Yeah but I’m the bane of your existence that you’re ‘dating’ in front of the aunties for free stuff and them leaving you alone.” He points out, giving in to you after when you almost topple over the Ferrero ice cream and handing you his strawberry ice cream. “So you can’t really complain.”

You roll your eyes as you exchange tubs of ice cream. In front of you, a jump scare goes unnoticed as you pay more attention to Jisung anticipating what your next words would be. “I’m grateful,” You clarify in a mumble as you chew on the ice cream. “But you’re still annoying as hell.”

“Not like you’re any better.” He rolls his eyes with another playful laugh, shifting in his seat. “Yeah, I think we shouldn’t hang out on Spring Break: we’re going to ‘break up’ if we keep meeting too much at this point.”

This time, it’s you who gets another thought at this comment. Shifting in your seat as well so you’re now facing Jisung, you ask in a change of topic, “Right, I meant to ask: when exactly are we ‘breaking up’?” You raise an eyebrow at him when his eyes widen in confusion. “It’s just that Chaeryeong and I were talking about it a while back and it had me thinking.”

“Hm? I thought we’ll do it a little after Chan and Miyoung’s wedding.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “There aren’t many events after that and I’m sure the aunties won’t bother you for a while since you’ll start working.”

“And if they do?” You ask back curiously. “Starting work at your own parents’ company while going through a ‘break-up’ doesn’t exactly guarantee a free pass from blind dates—remember the last time Yeji had a relationship the aunties knew about?”

“Right, that was quite chaotic.” Jisung replies, keeping his spoon in his mouth now instead of eating more ice cream as the unexpected question actually catches him off-guard. “But, I don’t know. I guess we can keep going a little longer after the wedding, until the aunties have someone else to bother or, you know—if you end up liking someone else.”

You then catch Jisung’s eyes light up at this idea and you hear him quickly add, “Hey, how about that?” He then removes the spoon from his mouth, placing his ice cream down in between the two of you. “You don’t have to worry about your elders and we don’t have to fake date anymore.”

“Actual dating?” You furrow your eyebrows. Jisung nods at this. “You know how I feel about that. I don’t think I want that for myself right now given the changes that are going to happen after we graduate.” You wave your hands around now, setting your ice cream and spoon down before sinking back in your seat. “And I especially don’t want that just for the sake of getting people to mind their own business; it’d be like giving in to the pressure in a way.”

You glance over at Jisung to see him nodding thoughtfully now, an unfamiliar look crossing his features before he meets your gaze and comments, “Okay, that’s fair—but we both know it’d be too troublesome to fake date for a long time.” He then sighs, sinking into his own spot and leveling with your gaze.

Suddenly, you feel a shift in the air around you as Jisung sets his ice cream down on his other side. “Aish, don’t you just wish you can talk back to older people?”

“Yeah.” You nod in agreement this time, pursing your lips. The air suddenly felt sincere now, a bit comical since the people keep screaming on the television in front of you but, for some reason, you don’t feel like laughing because Jisung isn’t despite obviously having the same thoughts. “I mean, we all know that the talks about dating and career and everything else are often in good-nature but a lot of times they’re just invasive and a bit rude.”

When Jisung doesn’t reply as quickly, you nudge his shoulder and add, “I especially think of the time you told some of the parents during Yeji’s birthday about your plans to study in Malaysia and how negatively they received it because they think you won’t graduate on time and that you should just finish college quickly and work.” Jisung’s eyes widen in surprise this time. “They don’t know how hard you work in your studies or how you really wanted to go abroad and explore and I really wanted to scold them for it.”

“Y-You still remember that?” He asks in disbelief, earning him a casual nod from you.

“Of course,” You confirm, your free hand unconsciously balling into fists on your lap at the memory. “I’ve never wanted to yell at my mom’s friends until that point even when you tried laughing it off so I’m glad you proved them wrong when you came back during Christmas and impressed them when they asked about it again.”

You see Jisung chuckle under his breath shyly, tearing his gaze at you for a moment. “You mentioned that night that you were annoyed. I never knew you were this annoyed.” He muses out loud. “Thanks.”

“Thinking about it now, I feel a bit bad,” You point out after, heaving a frustrated sigh. “You’re keeping up with fake dating me even though it just started as a little joke last Christmas to protect me in a way but I couldn’t stand up to you two years ago.”

Looking up at Jisung, he grins at you reassuringly and shakes his head, effectively easing the atmosphere back into being more lighthearted. “No, it’s okay.” He dismisses your frown. “Just knowing what you really thought then is fine already.”

“And,” He shifts in his seat after, transferring the tubs of ice cream in between the two of you now to his other side so he can scoot closer. “I get free food every other day from your mom because we’re ‘dating’ so it’s nothing, really.”

You scoff when he breaks out into laughter. “Right, of course.” You deadpan before breaking out into genuine laughs yourself. “What was I even thinking, talking about sincere things with you?”

The two of you laugh for a while, even more when Jisung pretends to complain that you just 'wasted’ the last act of the movie talking about ‘mushy stuff.’

“Stop complaining, dummy,” You smack his elbow, sitting up properly now as the credits begin to roll. “you entertained my rants instead of stopping me so it’s your fault too.”

“Because you brought up something of mine from two years ago!” He protests before moving away to gather all your scattered snacks to the coffee table, laughing in disbelief all throughout. “I had to respond or it’d be rude!”

You only roll your eyes at him, making the two of you laugh even harder. You then lean back on the sofa, stretching your hands above your head and removing your legs off of Jisung while he disconnects his laptop from the television and closes both electronic gadgets.

Turning to you, after, you see his laughs turn into a small sincere smile once again. “But seriously,” He says, glancing back at you from his shoulder. “Thanks.”

“For?” You prod him teasingly, earning you a groan of frustration from him.

“For almost getting mad at the elders?” He jokes back with a raised eyebrow before going back to being sincere again. “Nah, for being understanding with me and my choices.”

“Of course,” You reply casually. “even if we joke around a lot, you’re one of my best friends—well, as if I had a choice in that, you know me too well and too long.”

“Way to ruin the moment.” He frowns at you in feigned disappointment, making you chuckle, until another thought crosses his mind. “And, Y/N?”

“Hm?” You look up expectantly at him.

“We have to break up some time after the wedding but I’ll still try and protect you,” He clears his throat awkwardly. “from the ‘rude’ and ‘invasive’ comments after, I mean. You should do whatever you want to do freely and date seriously when you want, not when older people pressure you into it.”

At this, your gaze softens at him visibly, even more when he doesn’t make other hints that he’s joking. “Thank you.” You mumble, just loud enough for only him to hear when you see Mrs. Han pass by the hallway again. “You should too, you know, do whatever you want and date whenever you want to.”

Jisung opens his mouth to speak but, behind him, you catch a glimpse of Mrs. Han suddenly returning to the hallway and stopping by the living room entrance again, waving at you and unintentionally cutting her son off. “Y/N, Sungie, dinner’s ready!” She informs you before Jisung could even get a single syllable out, making him purse his lips in annoyance with his face hidden from his own mom’s view. “Y/N, I already texted your mom, by the way, and she said it’s fine that you stay over for dinner.”

You turn to the side and nod at Mrs. Han, chuckling when you see Jisung hiding his hands on his lap and exaggeratedly curling his fingers up in frustration. “Thank you, auntie! We’ll be right there!” You assure her, smiling up at her until she disappears back to the opposite direction of the kitchen.

Turning back to Jisung, you swat his finger tips back into relaxing with a laugh. “Guess we have to go back to adhering to the system and fake dating for now, though.” You conclude with a giggle, standing up from the sofa and fixing your clothes. “What were you going to say before your mom barged in?”

After a moment of silent contemplating, Jisung ends up shaking his head and following you, gathering the tubs of ice cream in his hands. “It was nothing.”

“Really?” You ask, elbowing him gently before picking up your water tumblers from the sofa. “Come on, tell me.”

“It’s nothing, seriously.” Jisung assures you with a laugh, walking ahead of you out of the living room and turning around to see you catch up. “Come on, leech, dinner time.”

You bump his shoulder with a laugh when you manage to catch up with him, “Shut up, you’re also a leech.”

“But not on this day, you’re in my house.” He corrects.

Dinner with the Hans regrettably passes too soon even with all of Mrs. Han’s questions on your school life and post-college plans; and Mr. Han bringing up embarrassing and, at times, even exaggerated stories from when you and Jisung were children. When Mr. Han is suddenly forced to retreat back into his home office to attend to a minor emergency (hastily bidding you and Jisung goodnight) and Mrs. Han managed to win in your argument over you helping her and the house helpers to do the dishes, the old grandfather clock at the house entrance strikes quarter to 9 PM which prompts Jisung to offer you company in walking back home.

“Yes, how thoughtful of you, Sungie! Do walk Y/N home!” His mom comments with a proud grin as she shoos you out of the kitchen. “I’ll see you after Spring Break, Y/N, okay?”

You nod, giving her one last side hug, careful of the dish washing liquid bubbling up on her pink gloves. “Have fun on your trip to Jeju, auntie!”

“I’d ask you to come along if it didn’t turn out so last minute, I did mention it on New Year” She jokes, much to Jisung’s horrified face. “Oh, Sungie, what’s that look for? Don’t you want Y/N to go on a trip with us next time?”

You giggle nervously, pulling away from the hug after and taking a step back to Jisung’s side. “Maybe next time, auntie? I have lots of deadlines this break, anyway.”

“Ya!” Jisung hisses at you discreetly, pouting again that you’re entertaining his mom’s antics. You only elbow him in response.

In front of you, Mrs. Han seriously contemplates on the idea before waving her drier glove. “Yes, it is quite last-minute right now since we leave on Monday.” She smiles fondly. “Next time, it is, then!”

“Okay, that’s enough planning for a future trip!” Jisung quickly interjects before you can humor his mom longer, placing an arm over your shoulder and turning you around to face the open door leading outside. “It’s getting late and I have to walk back here on my own after!”

You wave back at Mrs. Han, laughing when she rolls her eyes at her son before bidding you one last goodnight. “Goodnight, auntie!”

With that, Jisung gently pushes you into a run out of his house, haphazardly closing the door behind him and directing you across the front lawn, to their gates, then, finally, to the dimly-lit streets of your subdivision. You’re only pulled to a stop when Jisung almost pushes you to a car parked on the house across his, making you laugh.

“Ya, we didn’t have to run out so fast!” You protest, clutching your stomach with one hand while the other hits his side. “My stomach hurts.”

“You keep entertaining my mom’s ideas!” He playfully whines back in between tired pants, catching his breath quickly before throwing an arm over your shoulder. “If you’ll keep going like this, you might actually become best friends!”

You scoff, keeping his arm on your shoulder anyway as the two of you now walk to the direction of your house. “Watch your words, Han Jisung, or it might actually happen.” You warn him teasingly, adjusting your backpack on your shoulder. “Besides, I was just doing what you were doing on New Year—how did you call it?—’earning points.’”

“I also told you then that my mom already likes you so much,” He pouts, easily pulling you flush against him when a lone car passes by. Instinctively, he then moves you to his other side so he’s walking closer to the road. “You’re just going to be more annoying at this point.”

“Well, I like your mom, too, so I’m going to be extra annoying from now on,” You grin mischievously. “maybe until we ‘break up’ then everything’s going to be awkward for a while.”

Glancing over at Jisung from your side, you see him genuinely frown momentarily before sighing in feigned defeat. “Fine, do whatever you want.”

You want to ask him about the sudden frown but you end up shrugging it off as you cross the street to get to the right turn at the intersection. With the new direction you’re walking into, Jisung shifts you to his other side again.

“You know, it’s not like some car’s going to crash into us,” You move to his other side anyway and swiftly dodging another offer of him slinging his arm over your shoulder. “We’re inside the village? Where the speed limit is 20 kph?”

Jisung scoffs, dropping his arm back to his side “Your house is on your side of the street, dumbass, that’s why I moved you there.” And, as if on cue, you see your own house slowly coming into view among the towering gates and trees. “That little heart-to-heart talk we had must be getting to you, huh?”

“As if.” You elbow his side in retaliation, your backpack hitting his back slightly in the process which only fuels his teasing more.

“Aren’t you glad I’m here to walk you home?” He asks with a grin, just as you reach your gates. “Imagine if you got lost when we’re literally a block apart.”

“I hope the dog next door escapes and chases you back home,” You groan, walking a few steps ahead to open the smaller entrance on your gate with your key.

Behind you, Jisung only laughs, unfazed, before walking over to your side again and extending his arms out for a hug. “Okay, sorry,” He grins halfheartedly. “Come here, goodbye hug.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, swinging your gate open with one hand and stepping one foot on the other side. “What do you mean? My mom’s inside.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t hugged you alone in a while.” He points out while tilting his head sideways, earning him a genuine look of confusion from you.

“Ya, it’s not like we don’t hug platonically before all this.” He adds with a shaky snicker before pouting. “I’m going to get s—”

“Okay, fine.” You scoff with a small smile, stepping outside again to hug him. “Look who’s getting all mushy now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He shakes his head against your neck, reluctantly pulling away from you after a while. Rubbing the nape of his neck bashfully, he adds, “It’s just that—everything’s been a bit different now since I got home.”

“It’s mostly your fault—”

“—I know and I don’t regret it,” He interjects quickly, wiping the smug smile of your face. “since I’m doing it to get you away from creepy guys but it’s just us now and I sort of...miss being casual.”

Your frown tugs upwards into a sincere smile as you lean back against the gates. “We are casual. It’s just that people are looking now.”

“Can we hang out sometime?” He suggests with hopeful eyes. “just us, like old times.”

“You call it old times like it wasn’t just two years ago,” You point out, chuckling now. “But—sure.”

Jisung nods with a big grin now, excitedly shifting his weight on his feet. “So, see you after the Break?”

“Buy me something nice from Jeju then we can talk.” You conclude, stepping inside now completely. “Night, Sungie.”

“Hm, goodnight.”

When you accompany one of the Han’s family drivers to fetch Jisung and his parents at Incheon International Airport exactly a week later, you only expected to see the box of imported chocolate snacks Jisung promised to buy you as the only unfamiliar thing that you’ll see, maybe even an entirely new carrier with Mrs. Han’s vacation haul if she did actually spent more time shopping than working.

What you genuinely did not expect, upon finally spotting your best friend and his parents waiting for you at crowded Seattle’s Best, is him holding more than just your box of chocolates.

“Hey?” You wave at Jisung in confusion as you stop right in front of him. To your right, you catch a glimpse of the family driver, Mr. Yoo, greeting Mr. and Mrs. Han on the next table before obligingly taking their luggage cart. “Who’s this little angel?”

Only then do you notice the two other unfamiliar people with Jisung’s parents, eyeing you curiously and whispering to Mrs. Han, probably to ask who you are.

Jisung waves his hand at you once before transferring the same hand over the nape of his neck, “Y-Yeah, um, this is—”

But before he could even finish and maybe even explain, the little girl on his lap shifts in her place and jumps to stand in front of you. “Hello!” She grins sweetly in slightly broken Korean, waving one hand at you while the other clutches Jisung’s bear plushie. “I’m Kitty!”

“Oh, hi, Kitty!” You bend your knees slightly to level with her gaze hidden behind round eyeglasses, briefly sparing a glance at Jisung after and raising an eyebrow at him before smiling again at the little girl. “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you!”

“It’s nice to...m-meet you!” She politely returns the gesture, hugging Jisung’s bear plushie shyly after and making your heart skip a beat. “Will you also live with us?”

“At home?” Your furrow your eyebrows deeply now, standing up properly and turning to Jisung who you then belatedly notice has stood up as well and slung his backpack and Kitty’s over his shoulder. “Sung?”

Jisung stands next to Kitty and places a hand behind her back, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Kitty’s going to live with us for a while.”

ch. 4 // series masterlist

tags: @t-toodumbtocare @sandaigdigan-reads @pwarkhans @ruellelix @malai-barfi @mahalau @milkywayfelix @qweens-stuff @tenclouds @crscendoforsung @verobibble

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writing-gifts · 4 years ago

Text

datura (moth!bruno x butterfly!reader)

—–

A/N: idk what to say so here’s another chapter ft. oblivious bruno lmao

First Chapter || Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Reader is gender neutral!

-----

[Early Fall]

You thought you were at peace with Summer ending but apparently that wasn’t the case. Every time you woke up and it was a little colder than the day before you’d curse the season. It was uncomfortable to adapt to and made you want to stay under your covers longer than you should.

You still tried to see the good in Autumn though. Such as the trees changing from various greens to reds, oranges, and yellows. It was a nice change of scenery. But you quickly remember with that came giant dead leaves almost landing on you, which wasn’t as nice. And these leaves would make the paths you walked extremely uneven. To you every pro had multiple drawbacks.

"I just don’t want to say goodbye to the warm weather, even if the heat would get a little unbearable some days,” you complain to your friend.

"Yeah. It’s going to suck when it gets too cold to fly."

Frowning even more, you pour the bag of grain you’re holding into a storage container. Since it would only be getting cooler from now on Abilene needed to start saving up food and you were helping them.

"Don’t look so down, we can keep each other company during it. By the way, have you started preparing for Winter?" Abilene asks.

“Yep! You know I have copious amounts of nectar stored at all times.”

"Of course, of course how silly of me."

You stick out your tongue at them but stop when you almost spill some of the grain on the ground.

You both continue to work in relative silence but if thoughts could make noise it would be extremely loud. Something has been plaguing your mind recently. Something related to Bruno.

Your crush on the moth had always been there but instead of fading away like you expected, it seemed to have grown exponentially over the Summer.

You put down the bag you just finished emptying. “Hey Abby...”

“Hm?”

You shift slightly from foot to foot, unsure how to bring up the topic. “Um, would it be strange if two different species got together?"

Abilene looks puzzled. “No? I've seen a lot of bugs do it, and honestly you and Bruno aren't that different. Moths and butterflies are probably under the same category."

"W-Wait, I didn't mention anything like that…"

Your friend shrugs, opening up another bag. "Why else would you ask a question that you already know the answer to? I’m guessing your little crush got more serious?"

You rub at your arm, your bottom hands wringing each other. "I thought I just had a crush because of his looks but I spent too much time with him and it got worse!”

"Yea, that's how relationships tend to work."

"Abby this is serious, I don't know what to do!"

They close the bin they just finished filling and look at you. “Maybe just confess?”

You almost roll your eyes. “You know that I can't do that. That’s the sensical thing to do!”

"I guess you're just going to have to suffer then. Unless, he confesses to you."

That gives you pause. You couldn't exactly see Bruno feeling the same way. Was that even a possibility?

"What if he doesn't see me that way?"

"As harsh as it sounds, you just have to accept and respect that. But at least you’ll know and there won't be any ‘what ifs’."

That was true but rejection was a scary thing. Scary enough to prevent you from even trying. And there was always that chance that the confession would ruin your friendship.

Suddenly, you didn't want to talk about this anymore.

“You okay?”

"I don't know...I just need to think a little more on this."

You help more silently from then on. It takes a while before you're done emptying the bags and the filled bins are placed neatly in Abilene’s pantry. And after cleaning up any spilled grains, you’re ready to walk home. Even though you try to reassure Abilene, they tag along to “prevent you from getting distracted”.

By the time you both get through the path between your homes, the sun’s on the verge of setting but you're surprised to find Bruno already waiting by the front steps.

The realization that crosses Abilene's face when they see him has you suddenly feeling antsy. You were not ready for this. You planned for them to meet during the upcoming play.

"Is this The Bruno?" they whisper to you.

Oh god.

“Abby please act normal…”

You both walk up to the moth, although you lag behind your friend.

When you catch up, Abilene’s already introducing themselves.

“I’m glad to finally meet the person I’ve been hearing so often about.”

You squint at Abilene trying to show your disapproval with just your eyes, but they simply return an “innocent” smile.

Fortunately, Bruno doesn’t question their comment. “Well It’s nice that I can finally sate your curiosity.”

“Definitely. But also it’s the perfect time to make sure that ____ is making friends with people with their best interest in mind. No offense.”

You internally groan. Abilene didn’t exactly sound confrontational but you can’t help feeling that from what they just said. If you knew they would act like this you would have avoided Bruno and Abilene meeting at all costs.

You sigh. “I told you he was safe….”

Bruno gives Abilene a slight smile, "It's good that they have someone looking after them. And I don't blame you considering how we met.”

You look at Abilene and for some reason they don't seem as sure as they did a moment ago.

“I've been wondering for a while...” Bruno continues. “Has ____ always liked to stay out late?”

Abilene seems to step out of whatever temporary daze they went into. “Unfortunately, yes. Ever since they were a caterpillar. I don't even know where they picked it up from, but you don't even want to know some of the other things I’ve caught them doing.”

The moth's brows raise and he looks at you, “That’s not very reassuring.”

“Guys”, you interject. Bruno did not need to know about that. Especially after what you said at the pond.

“I don't stay out that late anymore! At least not by myself anyways.”

"I suppose that's true." Bruno says.

“But the fact that you managed to discourage them from doing that is really amazing, you know?”

“It wasn’t easy trust me.”

You purse your lips. Sure you can be stubborn when it came to visiting flowers but were you really that bad? They had to be exaggerating. And you didn't need both your friends calling you out on your bad habits together. At least not in front of your face.

"By the way Abby, when did you say the play was again?” you ask.

"That’s coming up pretty soon actually--in a week.”

"I’m still curious about the ‘supernatural’ element," Bruno says.

You release a breath seeing that your question was enough to change to subject.

"Do you like supernatural stuff? Abby’s surprisingly into it."

“Not necessarily. I’m just wondering what they were planning since it was so vague.”

Abby nods. “I thought they would explain it when the play date got closer but it’s still pretty vague so guess we’ll just have to find out on the day.”

As the conversation continues you feel yourself relaxing. It really wasn't weird or awkward like you had been worrying about. Even if you wanted to pinch Abilene whenever they said something that even slightly implied your crush on the moth.

It doesn’t take long before the sun is gone and it’s dark out.

Abilene glances up. "Well, I’m going to head back now. Don’t want to let it get too late.”

You slightly pout. Now that the initial part of the meeting has passed you didn’t want this to end so quickly. "Aw okay. See ya later, Abby."

"It was nice meeting you. Be safe getting back," Bruno says.

Abilene smiles at you both, “Bye ____, and I’ll be seeing you at the play Bruno."

They turn to leave but they stop and lean towards your ear. “Now I know why you were so desperate to keep in contact with him--very handsome,” they whisper.

You push them in the direction of their home. “Yes goodbye Abby! Get back safely.”

They snicker at you, not moving as quickly as you would like. “I will obviously. Bye!”

Exhaling deeply, you watch them head back through the path you two came from.

“You guys seem like very good friends.”

You scowl still reeling from what that grasshopper said. “I have no friends!”

“What?”

You sigh when you see Bruno’s questioning gaze and open your front door. “Nothing, just come and get your nectar.”

After Bruno and Abilene’s brief meeting you find yourself looking more forward to the play. Fortunately, the next several days pass by quickly and the three of you all meet up at your home before heading there together.

It’s quite crowded when you arrive but you all manage to find a spot together and you sit in between your friends.

Throughout the play, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking over at Bruno to see his reactions. One time you look over and he looks right back, which makes you finally stop, afraid that he had noticed you doing that the whole time. Other than that everything else went smoothly, or as smoothly as a unique play like that could go.

It went on pretty long, starting late afternoon so any bug whether diurnal or nocturnal would be able to attend. Now the last of the sun covers everything in an orange glow and those who need it can make it home safely.

You walk alongside your friends, leaving the open theater area to head back towards your home. It’s only a short while before the three of you are walking along a river bank.

You cautiously watch the running water, your eyes every so often follow the random leaves being carried away.

"I wasn’t expecting that…” you say.

It was a romance story like the poster said but the supernatural part was definitely something new to you.

“When Athan started drinking from the other mosquito--,” Abilene chuckles.

You side eye your usually practical friend. “You were into that...?”

Abilene shrugs, “It’s not the first time I’ve seen or read stories like this. Definitely has a strange allure to it...”

You decide to not ask them to go into detail since Bruno’s here and turn to said moth instead.

“Did you think it was weird?”

“Some parts were definitely strange, especially all the blood drinking, but I enjoyed it overall,” he says.

“Hmm, do you like romance?”

“I guess I tend to lean towards it.”

You nod. “I could tell you really liked the more uhh s-sensual parts?”

You know that sounded off and you can see Bruno wants to laugh but he holds it behind a small smile.

Abilene looks at you with a raised brow. “Why did you have to say it like that?”

“I don't know how else to say it! The sexy parts?!”

You and Abilene fill most of the silence while Bruno mainly listens, throwing in his opinion every once in a while. Eventually he needs to split off from the group to head towards his own home. So you exchange goodbyes and he flies off.

“Bruno looked really happy!”

Abilene’s brows raise slightly. “...He did? He seemed at most content to me.”

“Nah, I think he really enjoyed himself,” you couldn't help the grin on your face. You wanted to do more things like this with your friends.

For some reason Abilene starts smiling at you with a knowing look and you just stare back confused.

“What?”

“Nothing, just smiling.”

You huff. “Come on.”

“Okay, you're so cute right now. I can tell that you really like Bruno a lot and spend a lot of time with him.”

“Oh...”

Was it that obvious? You didn't even say anything strange though, at least you think you didn’t.

“I can't make you do anything but I really think you should embrace your feelings,” your friend says.

“I don't know...How should I go about it cause I’m too afraid to just come out and say it.”

Abilene holds their chin as they think. “Well, perhaps you just need to show him.”

“Like trying to hold hands or something? That seems a bit much--I mean, we did do that once…”

“You held hands already?” They sound very curious.

You wave your hand in front of your face. “He was leading me through the dark, but we’re getting off topic! What do you mean?”

“Just like hints at feeling more. Maybe compliment him more. If you're feeling really brave, maybe offer a hug.”

The idea of hugging Bruno has your heart lurching.

Abilene tries to give you a supportive smile. “Honestly this isn’t my area of expertise but you can’t expect anything if you just wait around. And you don't have to go hard all at once, just start off small.”

You really didn’t want to constantly wonder ‘what if’ in the future so you agree with this plan. “I’ll try…”

It definitely won't be easy though.

-----

The sky had been dark and cloudy since morning and only got darker as the day went on. The pressure drop in the air was obvious but not a single raindrop fell. You just hoped it wouldn’t flood when it finally did decide to pour.

You were sitting on the ground in front of your low table sewing. You had neglected this hobby for baking last season so you decided to finally get back to it since you didn’t expect Bruno to show up tonight. You actually hadn't seen the moth that often since the play. Apparently, Narancia wanted him to stay with him more often and of course parent duty came first.

While focusing on pinning the cloth together that would be a new top, there's a knock on your front door which causes you to tilt your head. You wonder who it was. Maybe Abilene but they rarely came over this late, especially right before rain.

When you walk over to open the door and see Bruno, you immediately give him a questioning look. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to visit.”

“That’s it? But it’s going to rain though! How are you going to get back? What if it rained while you were coming here?”

“It’s fine--”

Suddenly there’s a loud clap of thunder, a bright flash and the stormy clouds finally release the rain they had been holding on to all day. Which instantly soaks Bruno.

You pull him in hastily and shut the door. “Holy crap, are you okay?”

“I probably should have not pushed my luck standing outside like that.” He wipes the fluff on his forearm across his face but it barely helps.

“Ah wait, let me get you something to dry off.”

You run to your bedroom to find a giant towel for the moth.

When you come back into the main room, you hold it out for him to take. He immediately brings the soft towel to his face and you leave again to get some blankets. It wasn’t too cold but it would be best to warm him up to absolutely avoid sickness.

When you come back with some of your fluffiest blankets in your arms, you see that Bruno has removed the golden clips from his hair to dry it. The braid on the top of head has come loose and the strands that once formed it sit slightly wavy atop the rest of his hair.

You suddenly remember Abilene’s advice to be more honest with your feelings but you could barely look at the moth right now. Damn him for not wearing clothes and looking good even soaked.

You finally look away and drop the blankets on your daybed.

“____.”

You turn back towards him.

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Uh, yea?”

“If you don’t mind, I need help reaching my wings.”

“O-Oh.”

Why didn't you think of that. Getting back there would take way longer by himself

You grab the towel and move behind him to gently dab at his damp wings, careful not to cause any damage. The towel wouldn't be able to dry them completely but it would slightly speed up the process. They would have to mainly air dry though.

“You won't be able to fly for a while Bruno. Not that you could fly back in this rain anyways,” you say.

“I know.”

You almost want to chide the moth for how indifferent he sounded, but you decide to let it go. Both of you knew you weren’t the pinnacle of careful behavior anyways.

“I’m not going to kick you out, obviously, but I don’t know if you’re comfortable with staying overnight.”

“Why wouldn’t I be comfortable? I would actually really appreciate it.”

“Well, then I guess that's settled then.” You gently touch the wing that's slightly overlapped on top of the other and direct it upwards so you can better get to the bottom one. They felt pleasantly fuzzy. Similar to a cushion you would like to lay your face on or rub your hands all over.

Brunos wings shift slightly under your fingertips. “T-Thanks for helping me dry off.”

You momentarily pause. “You cold?”

“Not much.”

You couldn't tell if he was being honest or trying to pretend but you’re sure you heard him stutter. You shake it off quickly so you can finish trying to get some of the water off his wings. After you finish you lead him towards the daybed.

“I bought you covers to warm up. You can air dry your wings later.”

“But I’m not that cold.”

“I’m hearing that you’re still cold though so I’m not taking any nos.”

The moth sits on the daybed in slight resignation, and you quickly wrap the covers around him, layering him with one after the other. Once you're done, you laugh at his face poking out of the hill of blankets and his antenna being forced down by the wait of the covers.

He furrows his brow, blowing the fur on his antenna out of his face. “Don’t you think these are too many covers?”

You do your best to speak through your laughs. “Better--Better safe than sorry.”

“This is so…” He shakes his head, well the best that he can under those covers, not bothering to finish his thought.

“Don’t worry, you look great like this!” Your laughs finally start to slow and you sit down next to the blanket heap that is Bruno. “If you need anything else just let me know kay?”

The moth moves the blankets to sit on his shoulder instead on top of his head. “I should be okay. Thank you again for letting me stay.”

“No problem. I would have let you for no reason honestly.”

Bruno watched you slide off the daybed onto the floor so you can continue your sewing.

“What are you making?” he asks.

“A top. I want to wear something new for the upcoming cold.”

You pull out a pin from your flower shaped pincushion.

“Actually, do you ever wear clothes? I’ve never seen you in any since I met you,” you say.

“Barely, I don’t really get cold enough that I need to.”

Your lips twist to the side, unconvinced. It’s not like his legs and torso weren’t nice to look at, but part of you wanted to dress him up. You're sure he’d look great. And just knowing his thighs and torso were always exposed made you worried about the inevitable drop in temperature.

“Not even in the Winter? But youre almost completely exposed….”

“I stay mostly indoors during it and I can keep myself warm if necessary.”

“How?”

“I’ll just warm myself up by vibrating.”

You raise a brow. “...Vibrating?”

“It’s not exactly the warmest at night in Autumn so I need to vibrate my wings so I can fly. Do you want to see?”

You didn't want him to take off the covers so you shake your head, “Maybe another time.”

It did sound interesting, however you can't help thinking wearing clothes would be more convenient. Especially when it came to flying since it could get pretty chilly if you went fast enough.

“You must not be very fond of clothing. Or maybe you don’t like them at all?” you contemplate out loud. “Very interesting…”

“Is it really that unconventional to you?”

“It's fine, it’s fine. You can be exposed or whatever,” you say teasingly. “It's not like it's against the rules.”

The moth’s brow furrows. “I don't exactly hate wearing clothing, I just dont think it’s necessary for me.”

“I guess that’s true with all your fluff and you probably have a higher tolerance to cold than me. I still think you'd look good in something though. It’s actually pretty fun having stuff to change into.”

You notice that Bruno’s looking at your clothes and for some reason you decide to make a dumb joke. “Are you hungry or something?”

“If you're implying that I want to eat your clothes, then no.” He smirks a bit. “Unless you want me to, then I won’t be taking any bites near you, so you don’t have anything to worry about.”

Your eyes widen slightly, unsure of what to make of that. Next time you try to be clever you need to be better prepared.

“A-Anyways, maybe I could make you something one day! Do you have any preferences?”

“Maybe something that doesn’t restrict me too much. And doesn’t cover up my fur. It gets uncomfortable during the Summer.”

You cross off anything with long sleeves.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be a typical top…” you say outloud to yourself.

An idea is taking shape in your mind's eye but you're not exactly sure how you’ll go about it yet. You might need to make a visit with your more arachnid than insect neighbor.

“Well for now I’m going to knit you a sweater for winter cause I’m not letting you walk around shirtless in the cold!”

“You know I do actually own clothes right?”

“But you said you barely wear them so I'm still making you a sweater. I'm going to make it so you can remove the forearm sleeves if you want, okay?”

“You can make it however you please. I’ll take whatever you make for me”

You shake your head. “That’s sweet but I want you to really like it too--like it so much that you’ll never want to take it off! So I want to make sure it’s something that would be completely comfortable for you.”

Bruno pulls the blankets closer to him. “I’m sure you’d come up with something good without my input, but if it will make it easier for you then I’m fine with that.”

After asking a few more questions related to the sweater, you continue working on the shirt in front of you while you try to figure out how you'd go about making a sheer piece of clothing. At one point you look over and see that Bruno has fallen asleep on top of all the covers that were previously wrapped around him.

You reach out to feel his wings without really thinking. They’re still wet of course but it was better than before.

The moth shifts in his sleep and opens a tired eye.

“Sorry, just checking your wings. Go back to sleep.”

He shuts his eye. “I’m going to poke at your wings when you fall asleep…” It was impossible to take that seriously with his voice being so groggy.

“I would barely call that a poke,” you roll your eyes when you see his lips form a soft smile. It’s tempting to reach out and pinch his nose but you leave him alone.

The rain continues to be heavy and persistent throughout the rest of the evening, filling your home with a pleasant hum. Once it gets too late for you to keep sewing you decide to leave your stuff on the table, too tired to clean up.

You move to get off the floor and jump when you realize Bruno was awake.

“Have you been laying there quietly the whole time?”

Bruno props himself up to better look at you. “Yes?”

“You should have said something, I would have talked to you!”

“You seemed focused and I didn’t want to distract you.”

You shake your head at the somewhat socially inept but considerate action. “Well I guess I’ll head to bed. Will you be comfortable here?”

“With all these covers and this daybed? Definitely.”

You grin, “I really can't believe you risked the rain to come over here. Did it really need to be today?”

The question was supposed to be mostly rhetorical but the moth still answers.

“Narancia wanted to stay over with a friend so I decided to visit. I knew I could make it if I was quick enough.”

But look at you now silly moth.

“That’s it?”

You were still confused by Bruno’s actions but he continues speaking.

“I wanted to visit you. I finally had a chance to come over and I didn’t want to let it pass by.”

How can he say things like that so easily?

“Oh, okay that’s--Thanks, I’m glad to see you too.”

The Bruno you were looking at right now with his messy hair and completely relaxed posture was almost hard to process. But when his usually serious expression is replaced by something more at ease and soft, your stomach feels weird, like something is fluttering within and you can barely keep eye contact.

“Y-You’re actually really cute sometimes--” You freeze as soon as the words come out of your mouth. It wasn’t an accident, you fully intended to say them but actually hearing them outloud? It was embarrassing.

“GOODNIGHT!” you yell before the moth can speak and quickly walk out of the room, leaving a probably highly weirded out Bruno on your daybed.

#hint: bruno isnt weirded out #i wanna be a worldbuilding master so trying to slowly improve #maybe in a couple years #anyways i hope you guys liked this chapter ^^#bruno buccellati x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #bruno x reader #reader insert

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jimmythejiver · 3 years ago

Text

For the first time in a long time I went to the movies in forever and then to Target. At Target I see some Godiva bars on discount yellow tags and I was ecstatic until I read 70% Cacao, Dark, Salted Caramel and was deflated.

Anyway that's how I felt about seeing The Green Knight. What you thought this was about chocolate?

No see since the pandemic I've been back on my perennial King Arthur kick. I've for a long time since I was a young preteen thought, someday I too will write my own King Arthur epic and it'll be gay, magical, gangster and culty too, but for now I'll make up my own stories for practice and then with every story I got attached too, it got too involved and convoluted to the point that when it came down to actually writing a novel, I threw it all away and made a space opera I only planned in two weeks and wrote in a month. Anyway...so now I've been writing this very gay, magical, gangster and culty take on Final Fantasy XV with my boyfriend and just fell in love with Somnus Lucis Caelum who nobody has any insight about him than to make him the Mordred to Ardyn's Arthur, which is a strange flex, but okay, I thought about what if I wrote a Dark Age prequel about Ardyn and Somnus, but Ardyn becomes king and Somnus his shogun and they play games of seduction and power because I'm twisted like that. Anyway...I was like I'm never going to write this and I have to keep making up characters based on FFXV characters and King Arthur tropes because there's not a lot of stories that take place during the Dark Ages, it's always some Roman Empire story, or High Middle Ages and FFXV gave no room for either society to happen after the fall of Solheim and the rise of King Somnus...so we left with Dark Ages, y'all, the King Arthur comparisons are obvious, but Ardyn is no Arthur and Somnus is no Mordred, Aera is only Guenevere if you make up an affair with Somnus, Gilgamesh is no Bedwyr/Bedivere, but uh...they both amputees and the oldest companions to their respective kings so...I guess. Anyway making an ancestor of Cor Leonis and deciding well he's Owain/Yvain, or am Ignis type as idk Sir Cai/Kay I guess, they both cook, but Cai's more like Seifer Almasy than any FF character... Anyway I'm losing people.

My plan was to just scrap the FFXV prequel, leave my Somnus ideas into Overtime (a gangster and gods story) and just plan an actual King Arthur adaptation. I'd have King Arthur the treasure hunter, leader of a warband turned founder of Camelot who fights giants, giant cats and dogheads, but also fights King Claudas of the Franks and King Aelle of the Saxons and Cerdic a Briton who puts in his lot with the Saxons, etc. It'd been a a glorified turf war, meanwhile Arthur's gotta make alliances with King Pelles, The Fisher King and his strange cult he's founded because, why yes I find the ends justifies the means prophecy of the Holy Grail Quest very culty because Christianity then does not resemble it now. Meanwhile you got the secondary plots of Mordred, Gawain, Lancelot, Percival, Tristam and other's going on because they matter and too many modern King Arthur stories sideline the knights.

So many have always sidelined Mordred as a final boss eldritch abomination in mortal flesh conceived of sin and give him no personality, or complex motives, or even just a relationship with Arthur. I also have noticed the general sidelining of Lancelot, or give him a chad villain upgrade if you must include him at all, and the villainizing of Gawain to the point that you don't even have to have Mordred, or Agravain as a catalyst shit stirrer in court, just slap Gawain's name on Liam Neeson in a top knot and you're good. Mordred can just be a child offscreen until last act...fuck that, while Morgan Le Fay can either be a villainess plotting her cabal through men, or a well-intentioned, ineffectual idiot. Fuck that.

Now Hollywood just be doing King Arthur first acts that suck ass, only for said director to get rewarded failing upwards by giving this same jerk the Aladdin remake. The tonally shitty, crammed in blockbuster mess of a cliche heroe's journey that sucks.

With that background I was excited for The Green Knight. I read an illustrative version as a kid, I read Tolkien's translation as a teenager, I read Simon Armitage's superior, but with liberties taken translation. I was prepped to go knowing that indie, or not they were going to make changes to weave the disjointed poem together. I'm excited that because this movie exists Project Guternberg's finally thrown Jessie Weston's prose rendition up on their website. I'll be reading that at some point when this blows over.

The movie adaptation makes a lot of...choices, many I wouldn't love, but would forgive had their been a payoff. There was none.

The journey was fine, the cinematography was a breath of fresh air after crappy slo mo, glossy action scenes ruined another. Guys, I don't think I want to see a Zack Snyder Excalibur, it'll marginally be better than Guy Ritchie, but that ain't saying anything. Leave Excalibur to the post-Star Wars 80s where it is impeccable for it's time. I liked Green Knight's breathable pacing, it's color palette's in the forests and mountains made up for the muddy grey of every Ridley Scott send up in the castles and villages in every other Dark Ages/Medieval story in the last I don’t know since the shitty 00′s. For all the dark tones when there was blues, greens, yellows or reds, they were vibrant in this movie to contrast the gloom of Britain. The soundtrack was good. This isn't all what makes a movie, but it enhances it so let's get to the story and what I did and didn't like.

Things I Liked: Gawain is still a novice in his career The Costume Dressing Everyone pronounces Gawain's name different. I pronounce it like Gwayne, or Guh Wayne, but here you got Gowen (like Owen), Gowan (like Rowan), or even Garlon who I'm pretty sure is the Fisher King's heir in some versions of that Arthurian story, so uh... The reference to Arthur slaying 960 men with his bare hands (Nennius for the win!) The Waste Land that is implied to be a site of a battle (an important aspect of the Arthurian landscape) The Fox companion No long grisly, drawn out hunting scenes. The Fox lives! No misogynist speeches

Things I'm Mixed: This being a dream, is the magic real? Are the giants? Is the Green Knight a figment of Gawain's imagination from a spell Morgan casted in him to hallucinate? Is Lord and Lady also figments? It's...a way to interpret the poem, but lazy and I don't see why it's got to all fantasy, or all dream...this movie makes it too vague you're stuck picking one camp than to accept it's a fantasy with dream and hallucinatory sequences.

Things I'm Meh: Morgan Le Fay as Gawain's mom. Look I fucking hate Morgause as a character and these two get merged and steal each other's aspects so much at this point the difference is who did they marry, King Urien or King Lot? Both are attributed to being Mordred's mom, Mordred is Gawain's brother...both practice magic depending on certain incarnations, both love and hate Arthur their brother and are in conflict with him. Saint Winifred. I actually liked this sequence, but I don't appreciate her as the tacked on wife in the later dream sequence as like...a contrast between the wife you should marry than the whore next door you don't respect anyway? I don't even know what lesson I'm supposed to get out of the damn dream sequence, or any of it? That Gawain should've married his girlfriend and then he'd be a just ruler? That he shouldn't be king? That he'd never have to make the same heartless, impartial choices? I don't know, he seemed like a king doing king shit because guess what? It never gets easier. Wars will be waged. The world didn't become better because he married the right woman, respected her and lived in obscurity. The world didn't become better because he made her his queen. We certainly don't know the world would be better Gawain had his head chopped off and dead XP They never reveal the Lord and the Green Knight as one and the same because of this shit.

Things I Hated: Arthur withdraws from the challenge because he's old. In poem he takes it on and Gawain takes it so he don't have to and he finds himself more disposable than the king. Gawain only takes the challenge because of arrogance. Arthur and Gawain had no prior personal relationship. I'd not have hated this so much if it wasn't compounded by it cancelling out the first two things. Gawain is portrayed as having no respect for his woman, or any woman, maybe his mother? He has to be pushed by Winifred to regain her head. Gawain is portrayed as arrogant, covetous and ready to pass the buck, or the bare minimum than have any honor or decency. It didn't matter the kid in the wasteland was shithead bandit, the way Gawain acted towards him, when he gets robbed, it almost feels like he deserved it and Gawain doesn't learn a damn lesson. I'll admit him taking the sword to cut his ropes and cutting his hands was a neat sequence, it shows him go from stupid, to almost clever and having will to survive...you know traits he had in the poem, but he stops showing these traits or growing. Basically Gawain has to be dragged kicking and screaming to help people and shows no fortitude when facing temptation, or when showing respect towards others, it's exhausting. You don't make this kind of journey story without character growth. Why are you skipping this? Also is it just me, or is this like when you take Frank Miller Batman and transport him onto a Bill Finger story? This is at best Thomas Malory Gawain (and this is charitable) transported on the earlier Pearl Poet's story. Stop it. It's not tonally correct and goes at odds with the story and the set up characterization you'd need to tell it. Speaking of which, you know how I get through the oof... of Liam Neeson Gawain in Excalibur? By pretending he Agravain instead. Here...I don't even think Gawain could pass as Mordred in spite of his covetous nature, lust and entitlement. Why? because I don't think even Mordred is this dumb to warrant this hubris. Essel being invented as a tacked on love interest just to be shit on utterly and for what? I don't think I have much commentary here as there is no Essel I'm aware of to compare, or stack up. I just notice this trope of like...usually if you include a sex worker in Hollywood she often has a heart of gold, she often has her own sense of values that goes at odds with society, but is more true and less hypocritical than a privileged lady’s. I thought that's what they would've done with the added trope of back at home sweetheart to contrast and pit her against the despicable femme fatale of Lady Bertilak and her adultery and her ladyship...and I'm glad they didn't...but you did nothing with Essel than to shit on her for existing when you made her exist, you know. Lady Bertilak being portrayed as the seductress devil incarnate. Look I know adultery is a touchy taboo, but uh her and Gawain hit it off in the poem, dammit! Her values and his values come to clash, but here it's played off as Gawain is stupid and covetous and Lady Bertilak wants to prove something because...? If my brother's theory that she's a figment of Morgan Le Fay's magic, then I'll take this as a lesson of Gawain is impulsive and covetous and his mom knows it, but he don't want to fuck his mom, but he wants her power, and Morgan wants to teach him a lesson... I guess. Hey we don't have misogynist speeches in this movie, but we'll make sure to have the movie drip with it with no point, or commentary. Pass. Lord guilting, extracting and initiating the same sex kiss and only once. Poem automatically better that Gawain don't have to keep being reminded to keep his part of the bargain and he does it willingly more than once. What he doesn't do is give up his belt...gods how did we get more homophobic as a society that the homoeroticism here is worse? Catholics of the middle ages officially had no issue doing same sex, passionate kissing until it lead to sex. The Ending: The gods damn ending. In the movie as is, Gawain waits to uphold his end of the bargain and get his head chopped off. He imagines, even though we don't get any fuzzy or distortion to indicate this is a dream, but I already knew this was coming, he runs away and comes home, is regarded a hero, he sees his lady, takes her from behind and if you saw Brokeback Mountain (I didn't, but DJ has) you know this is a sign of disrespect to women. He gets her knocked up, pays her off for the kid she wants to keep, he is crowned king, marries the ghostly saint lady he helped retrieve her head earlier from a lake in the movie (this right here is the damn tip off). There's no more dialogue by this point and everything is montaging, so you know by now it's a dream, though nothing is out of focus. He rules as a heartless king, his whore son dies from war he waged, he has a daughter, his wife dies. Gawain then takes off the belt that would've saved his life and his head falls off. This would've been the one good twist, except... In this sequence of events he never had his head cut off so uh... now we back in present day. He decides not to bitch out, Green Knight in a sexy way is like "now off with your head," movie cuts to credits with no resolve...uh what the fuck? What the fuck? This is not good. You wasted the one twist in your dream when idk, you could've...

How I'd fix it: No dream sequence at all. No Incident At Owl Creek twist. Gawain comes home a hero and survivor of this game and ordeal. He wears this belt of shame. He becomes a well-renowned knight, but he bears a shame. One day he goes to take off his belt and his head falls off because he cheated to get this belt and to survive this encounter. There. Done. Improved your high concept movie that couldn't play any of the lessons straight from the damn poem without making everyone an asshole for no reason! Ugh! But nope you had to end it on we don’t know if Gawain lives or dies...because...it's dream magic made from his momma's witchcraft...?

Last Thoughts So then post-credits scene because Marvel because Pirates Of The Caribbean existed. A white girl who looks nothing like Gawain's daughter we see who didn’t pay off, or any child I can remember through this whole movie picks up King Arthur's crown that dream Gawain inherited and puts it on her head. Who is this girl? Are we gonna have an indie equivalent of of the Marvel Movie Universe/Universal Horror Monsters thing with ancient British legends? We gonna get a Life Of Saint Patrick next that crosses over? I don't know. What is this?

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blackreapersreign · 4 years ago

Note

so hey i come up with an other question, the question is where on earth does the grim reaper headquaters exist. well it may not be on earth since such modern buildings would be otherworldly in the 19th century so where do the head quaters lie

Hi!

It’s a tough question... We literally know nothing, because sensei is being so vague about it. And literally nothing about the shinigami makes sense in Black butler.

So... let’s try to guess. Othello’s appearance in chapter 114 would suggest that they live in a separate dimension altogether (unless the translation is messed up? but I don’t think so).

“The human world is full of organic scents, as always, I see. I think it’s been almost fifty years since I last took a whiff.”

Aside from the obvious, “What the hell happened fifty years ago??” this would also suggest that the shinigami literally don’t live in the human world, that they have a dimension (or a place?) of their own. This would go hand in hand with what we know from before, that a death scythe can cut through dimensions.

I guess that could work? Remember that the shinigami also need to eat and sleep, so I guess this means that they need to actually live somewhere as well. Wherever they go after they get off work. (~.~)

What doesn’t really fit this situation? The whole English branch, German branch issue. William and Grelle having to travel all the way to the German border to get some files from the German reapers. That really doesn’t make sense.

If shinigami had a dimension, or a place of their own (something akin to heaven, idk), then would they need to travel all that way in the human world just to get some files? This doesn’t sit well with me.

Also, using pigeons to call for reinforcements? What sort of freaking, supernatural pigeons? Can pigeons fly through dimensions too??

So... I guess they could also be somewhere on Earth, and use some of their advanced technology to hide their headquarters, it’s just that it would probably be difficult, considering all the advanced technology they’re using. Not impossible, but difficult.

Also, while I was writing this reply, I thought of a crazy crack theory about this topic... but I would have to think it through a couple of times, to make sure there’s nothing to make it absolutely impossible. I will be working on it, and I can tag you when I publish it, if you want. ^.^ My crack theory would explain a lot of things... but it’s honestly pretty crazy. Oh well.

Okay, so, as a conclusion, their headquarters could be anywhere. We know too little to decide on a place, and sensei is waaaay too vague about it. Impossibly vague. There are little rules, and many things happen at convenience. So, until the time sensei actually sits down to address all this, these are my best guesses. Sorry if I couldn’t be of much help.

Thanks for passing by, though, and I hope you’re having a great day! Stay healthy!

#kuro theories #shinigami #shinigami dispatch #shinigami headquarters #theory #yana san please make it make sense #nothing about the shinigami makes actual sense if you sit down and think about it for a whole day like i did #also my crack theory is not just a theory it's a whole freaking journey #i would have to commit to it if i decided to actually talk about it omg

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drawlfoy · 5 years ago

Text

Accio Malfoy

masterlist request guidelines (please read if you request!) requests are open!

stole the gif from @dracomalfoyedit so give them creds for draco’s pretty face

pairing: draco x slytherintransfer!reader

request: yes! you know who you are :)

summary: reader transfers into hogwarts and is sorted into slytherin. draco malfoy is the bane of her existence until suddenly he’s not

warnings: language because uh...you know who i am haha

a/n: i’m a little sorry for making this so similar to faux diplomacy, but honestly idk if i’m ever gonna finish that one and if i do it’s gonna be way different and way angstier. here’s something to hold my american/non uk readers off with until i get the next chapter of that out haha

music recs: the night we met - lord huron

word count: 5,293

tags! @accio-rogers @geeksareunique

Y/N had never felt as out of place as she did standing with the first years in the Great Hall, each of them eagerly awaiting their sorting. She easily had at least a foot on the tallest child there--but then again, they didn’t use feet here as a unit of measurement. They used...meters? Centimeters? She had no clue, but whatever it was, it was confusing.

Yet another reason why she didn’t want to be at Hogwarts. Her father was so thrilled when he told her that they’d be moving to the UK for...well, the rest of her schooling. He’d forever thought that Ilvermorny lacked the intimate education she needed with thousands of students attending and jumped on the first job opening at the British Ministry of Magic.

Was she mad? Yes, of course. She was already missing her friends terribly and felt so awkward standing with a bunch of children. Y/N didn’t have to look to know that everyone’s eyes were on her, wondering why there was an immensely overgrown 11 year old in their midst.

But was she going to make the best out of it? Yeah, probably.

A tall, elderly man with a scraggly white beard stepped up onto the podium, tapping his throat with his wand to amplify his speech. “Welcome back, fellow students of Hogwarts, and a very special welcome to our newest additions.” He tilted his head down to acknowledge the gaggle of children at his feet. “You all may notice that we have an especially interesting newcomer here tonight. Hogwarts is pleased to welcome its arms to our first Ilvermorny transfer student in over a century...a Miss Y/N Y/L/N!”

Grandly gesturing towards Y/N, he beamed down at her and and raised his free hand as if to request applause. The studentry obeyed, and soon the dining hall was filled with polite clapping that echoed.

The old man, who Y/N presumed to be the headmaster, spoke for a few more moments after, musing on the beauty of international connections and what it meant to be a gracious host. She heard it, but she wasn’t really listening. All she could think of was the sorting hat and what it was going to say.

Back home, or at least what she used to call home, she was a Horned Serpent. She had no idea what that translated to at Hogwarts--perhaps she’d be a Ravenclaw? Or a Slytherin, she had heard about their unmatched ambition, but also their petulance.

Y/N didn’t even realize that everyone was waiting on her until a kind first year tugged at her sleeve and pointed up at the podium. An older witch was standing there, holding the tattered and worn hat that had to have been the Sorting Hat.

“I said, please come up and be sorted, Y/N Y/L/N.” Her accent had a pleasing lilt that Y/N wasn’t expecting.

Fighting back a blush, she dipped her head and rushed onto the elevated platform, thanking Merlin that she didn’t trip on the way up. The witch motioned to the chair in front of her, and Y/N sat down, facing the sea of students.

Everyone watched in charged silence as the hat was lowered onto her head. An overwhelming smell of hickory and old leather overpowered her...but not much else was to be expected from a relic that was centuries old.

Y/N waited for the Sorting Hat to make conversation like it was rumored to, but the second she felt it touch her hair, it made a decision.

“SLYTHERIN!”

Gasps filled the hall with the promptness of the sorting. Even the witch that had placed it on her head looked humored as Y/N got up and walked off, slightly dazed.

She was guided towards a table with an abundance of green, choosing a seat near a black haired boy who didn’t look too threatening. He looked up as she slid onto the bench next to him, sending her a mischievous grin.

“Welcome to Slytherin. I’m Theodore Nott.”

Y/N made quick friends with Theodore, or Theo, as he asked her to call him. He told her the ins and outs of the Slytherin lifestyle and told her the password for their common room.

“Why basilisk, though?” Y/N asked as they sat in the common room together. “Did something happen?”

He shrugged, a mysterious glint in his eye. “Long story. It happened a while back. There used to be a basilisk in Hogwarts, hidden somewhere far away.”

“I would hope.”

They were silent for a few moments as Y/N picked at her nail polish.

“I’ll ask Daphne to show you to your room,” Theo finally said. “And we can sit next to each other for breakfast if you’d like. Slytherin doesn’t necessarily have the friendliest people.”

Y/N smiled gratefully as she watched him flag down a strawberry blonde girl who looked about their age.

“Let me guess,” the girl said as she approached the two. “She needs someone to show her to her room?”

Theo opened his mouth, but Y/N beat him. “Yeah, is that alright?”

Daphne studied her for a few moments. Y/N could feel her passing judgements on her.

“Yes, come with me,” she said after a bit, a vague expression on her face. “Say goodbye to Theo, though. He can’t come with us. We have wards, you know.”

“I assumed so.”

Y/N stood, turning and waving a goodbye to Theo. Daphne took her by the arm and led her to the other side of the common room, down a few stairs, and to a tall, daunting looking black door.

“You can’t bring guys in here,” she said lazily. “And on that note...”

She ushered Y/N inside, shutting the door behind them and glancing around the empty corridor they had entered.

“Don’t even think about Theo.”

“I wasn’t!”

“Good, because he’s not into girls,” Daphne dutifully told her, knitting her eyebrows together.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Do you have a problem with that?”

Startled by the sudden abrasiveness, Y/N took a few steps back. “No, no, of course not. Thanks for telling me.”

Daphne’s face cracked a small smile. “I think you’ll fit in alright here, then. Just don’t mess with anyone...at least not anymore than you absolutely have to.”

Y/N grinned back. “Of course not.”

The time difference sucked. Y/N had crashed the moment she had sat down on her bed the night before, but now it was 5 in the morning and she was wide awake.

Swinging up over her bed, she noticed that her roommates, Millicent and Tracey, were both snoring softly in their blanket cocoons. She sighed, taking extra care to be quiet on her way out of the room.

Theo had told her how the common room was open at all hours, just as long as you weren’t too rowdy. No one else would be up at 5am--it’d be absurd, so she was looking forward to writing letters to her friends in peace.

The cold dungeon floor chilled the balls of her feet as she ascended the steps into the dark common room. The little light available was a soft green hue cast from the lake water on the windows. Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if the sun had even peaked over the horizon yet.

“What are you doing?” a male voice hissed from across the room. Y/N whipped around to see an unfamiliar looking blonde boy curled up on a dark green couch. His body faced the extinguished fireplace, but his head was turned to glare at her.

The dim lighting didn’t conceal his features, and Y/N was immediately stunned. The boy was unusually pretty, with high, defined cheekbones and moonbeam blonde hair. His silver irises were so bright that the darkness did nothing to hide them.

“I know the academics at Ilvermorny aren’t stellar, but they at least taught you how to speak, right?”

Y/N flushed red, grateful for the low lighting as it helped hide her embarrassment. “Uh, yeah. Sorry about that. I just wasn’t expecting to see anyone out here so early.”

The boy snorted, and Y/N took note of his cruel expression. Suddenly he seemed much less accessible. “Yeah, well, I am.” He stared at her, seemingly expecting her to do something.

Y/N took it as an invitation to walk over to his couch, sitting herself a healthy distance away from him.

“I was actually hoping you’d leave me be.” He glowered at her from the other end of the couch.

“And what, let you brood all alone? As if,” she responded, hardly missing a beat. Y/N wasted no time in rolling out her parchment to write. “I have just as much privilege to be here as you.”

She could’ve sworn that she heard him huff, but he didn’t verbally protest, so there was a start.

“You Americans really are pushy,” he sniggered after she had begun to write her first letter.

“And you Brits really are entitled daddy’s boys, huh?”

That shut him up.

“What’s your name, anyways?” Y/N paused long enough from her writing to look him in the eyes.

“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.” His tone was stiff and unnatural, like a 12 year old boy trying on a suit for the very first time. “It’s Malfoy to you, though.”

“Draco?” Y/N giggled. “Your parents must be...uh....interesting.”

He frowned. “Malfoy to you!”

“Okay, okay. Anything to keep you from getting your panties in a twist.”

Another glance at Draco confirmed that he was very, very, irritated. “Can’t you just go antagonize your roommates or something? I was here first.”

Y/N shrugged. There was no way she was going to be able to finish her writing the prick kept talking anyways. “Sure. Don’t worry though--I’ll be back, Draco.”

She chuckled to herself as she saw his features darken, his mood clearly souring before her eyes. Following her judgement, she scampered back to her dorm room to avoid being hexed.

“I heard you met Malfoy, huh?” Theo asked Y/N, carefully buttering a piece of toast.

“Yeah, he’s a real charmer,” she snorted. “Thinking he owns the whole common room and whatnot.”

“You’ve just got to stay out of his way,” Theo said. “I don’t think he’ll give you too much trouble. You are a Slytherin, after all. He’d have to be mental to waste energy going after one of his own.”

Y/N smirked at the thought as she pushed her eggs around the plate. As much as she hated to admit it, the food at Hogwarts wasn’t half bad. Meals felt much more intimate under the soft daylight, whereas at Ilvermorny bright fluorescent bulbs illuminated the room.

She finished eating with Theo quickly and turned to her right to see a grumpy looking Millicent.

“I heard you tossing and turning all night,” Millicent said. “If you make me spend another night listening to you, I’m killing you and throwing you into the lake.”

“You lot really are sweethearts,” Y/N responded absentmindedly, sipping her tea. “In all actuality, though, I’ll probably sleep better tonight. I’m sorry about that.”

Millicent visibly softened. “No, it’s alright. I know it must be hard and all...isn’t it nighttime in America?”

Y/N checked her watch, still ticking at the eastern timezone of the US.

“Yeah. All my friends are sleeping right now. I’m jealous.”

That earned a small laugh out of Millicent, prompting Y/N to smile back at her.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Y/N’s hopefulness soon diminished by her second period as she struggled to find her way to potions.

“I thought you’d have an easier time finding the dungeons, you resembling a sewer rat and all.” A cold voice sounded to her right, and combined with the sudden rough push on her shoulder, she was surprised and yelped.

“A jumpy sewer rat too, huh?” Draco Malfoy raised an eyebrow and turned to keep walking.

“Hey!” Y/N’s hand darted out to snatch his sleeve. “Hey, Draco! Watch your mouth, buddy!”

Yanking his arm out of her grasp, he sent her a glare that could cut through stone. “Malfoy. Not Draco.”

“That’s funny, because I specifically remember you telling me that your name was Draco.”

He was about to say something back, no doubt a threat, but another boy swooped in.

“C’mon, Y/N, he’s just teasing you,” Theo murmured, taking care to send Draco a disapproving look. “Don’t waste your time on him. Come hang out with me and Daphne.”

Y/N allowed herself to be pulled away to Theo’s group of friends, all the while still glaring at Draco.

“Chill out, America,” Daphne said, waving her hand in front of Y/N’s face. “He’s not worth the energy. He’ll move on to someone else soon enough.”

“Whatever you say.”

Theo and Daphne walked her down to Snape’s classroom, taking extra care to keep her out of Draco’s path. Y/N was lost in thought on her walk to Potions, riding a sea of conflicting emotions.

On one hand, she wanted to make sure she didn’t spend the rest of the year being harassed by a little rich boy. On the other...he was painfully attractive, and while it was shameful to admit, knowing that he was paying her mind made her blush and her heart race.

Y/N was, by no means, an attention whore, but she’d be lying to herself if she said that she wanted Draco to completely leave her alone. She was in a foreign country, after all, and British accents were, well, exceedingly hot. There was no fault in her wanting to have a little fun.

Walking into the classroom, she was pleased to spot an empty table. Daphne and Theo took seats to her left, leaving an empty chair to her right. She allowed her thoughts to wander to places she shouldn’t have, shaking her head to clear her mind afterwards.

She was being ridiculous. Draco was not going to come over and sit with her just because there was one empty seat at her table.

In that moment, Y/N felt as though she was catapulted back into her 3rd year, where she was a cringy boy obsessed mess.

Chill, Y/N she thought to herself. Stop acting like a child.

Potions went on without a hitch. Y/N saw a flash of blonde hair in the corner of her eye, but she didn’t dare look. He didn’t come sit with her, so it wasn’t like looking in his direction would accomplish anything anyways.

“Whoa, Y/N, they said unicorn tail, not unicorn horn,” Daphne said, yanking Y/N’s hand away from the cauldron. “Can you read?”

“Yeah, do they teach that in the slums where you’re from?” a familiar cold voice added from behind them.

Y/N spun around to see an amused looking Draco sitting at the empty table behind them, propping his chin up with his palm.

“If you’re going to insult me, can you at least come up with new content?”

The side of his mouth quirked. “I don’t owe you anything.”

Y/N shrugged, tossing the shaved unicorn horn into the rubbish bin below her. “Fine, stay unoriginal. You bore me.”

Draco slunk out of his seat, retreating back to his rightful table.

“Give it roughly a week,” Theo told her sympathetically. “He’s a class A git, and then he gets bored, and then he forgets about you and doesn’t pay you any more mind.”

“But you’re not helping,” Daphne added, mincing some greengrass. “If you really want him to leave you alone, then stop engaging him. You’re making this fun for Malfoy by reacting to him.”

“I can handle myself,” said Y/N. “It seems like harmless fun, and plus, Draco can’t be that intolerable. He has friends.”

Theo paused from his chopping to look at her quizzically. “He has minions. And Parkinson, who you don’t want to associate with. The only thing Malfoy is good for is trouble and drama. I don’t think he has a kind bone in his body.”

“But he’s quick-witted and interesting. Don’t you two want to know more about him?”

“No!” Theo and Daphne answered in unison.

“Let me guess,” Daphne said, tipping her ingredients into the cauldron. “You think he’s hot.”

Y/N shrugged, her face burning. “I’m not blind.”

The witch offered her a sad smile, the most genuine expression she’d worn all day. “Be careful, then. I obviously can’t tell you what to do, and it’s not like it’d affect me much anyways, but between you and me, I wouldn’t go for him. Lots of girls like him, you know.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Y/N butted in. “You’re saying all of this like I expect something to happen. I’m just bored. I don’t expect anything to come out of this, and I don’t even know if I would want...that. I hardly know him, after all.”

Theo and Daphne both seemed satisfied with her answer. Y/N took advantage of the silence to add the untangled unicorn tail, watching as it turned the potion a milky blue.

Y/N spent the next few days acclimating to her new schedule and avoiding Draco (as per the request of Theo and Daphne). Classes at Hogwarts weren’t as spaced out as they were at Ilvermorny--there were just 3x as many stairs. She was by no means grossly out of shape, but jogging up and down the moving staircases proved to be a challenge.

“Do they not have stairs in America either?”

Y/N didn’t even bother turning around to face the person who spoke to her on her way to Charms. She’d recognize that snotty voice anywhere. “If you don’t get new content, I’m pushing you down them.”

Draco snickered behind her. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

She decided to not entertain him for any longer, choosing to be silent. The staircase creaked its way over to the corridor they were heading, taking its sweet time.

The air was thick with electrified silence, and Y/N was struck with the thought that she had never seen Draco be so quiet for such a long period of time.

The staircase came to a sudden stop, lurching both students forward. Y/N fell flat on her face, her hands dangling over the top of the staircase into thin air.

“What the fuck?” Y/N exclaimed, scooting back as to not fall over the edge. The staircase was now simply suspended in midair, neither parts touching the hallway entrances.

She finally turned around to see Draco just once step down, sprawled out in a similar fashion. “It’s just something that happens every once and a while.” He was casual, seemingly unworried. “I’ve never personally witnessed it, though. They’re just due for maintenance.”

Y/N gaped at him.

“So they just let students on these things without checking if they’re maintained?”

Draco shrugged, getting up to his feet and gripping onto the railing. “To my understanding, they only need to be re-enchanted once every few centuries. I can hardly blame the administration.”

“So what do we do? Wait it out and be late for Charms?”

“Is that really the biggest of your worries?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, folding her knees up to her chest. “What, am I allotted only a certain number of concerns now? Is that how this is gonna be?”

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” he said, motioning over his shoulder. “It’s not like we can’t just jump off at the bottom of the stairs.”

Y/N stole a glance behind him and realized he was right. It would be a bit of a leap, but if they tried, they could make it to some random corridor she had never seen before. “I don’t think I can make that with my books, though, and I’m too afraid to levitate them over the edge.”

Draco seemed to ponder this for a bit. “Me neither. I can go first and leave my things with you, and then you can pass both our things over, and then I’ll help you across. With you having shorter legs and whatnot.”

Y/N fought back a bitter remark in response to his thoughts about her legs.

“Yeah. We can try.”

It took Y/N a bit to hype Draco up about the leap as the two stood overlooking the edge.

“Don’t worry, you can totally make that,” she told him. “If you don’t, I swear I’ll try and levitate you back to safety. Or maybe I’ll Accio Draco or something. We’ll see.”

Draco snorted. “First of all, I’m offended that you don’t trust yourself enough to levitate your textbooks but feel perfectly fine levitating me. Second of all, it’s Accio Malfoy to you.”

“Accio Draco Malfoy,” Y/N corrected. “If I say Accio Malfoy, I’m being too vague. Any one of your family members could come flying at me, full force. We’d have some explaining to do.”

“No, you would, because I’d already be a splat on the ground below us.”

Y/N laughed then, pleasantly surprised with his level of bantering. His own eyes twinkled as a few smile creases appeared around his face.

“Nothing a little Dittany and pumpkin juice can’t fix,” she said cheerily. “Off you go.”

Draco steeled his face, any vulnerability disappearing. He shed his cloak and dropped his books on the ground, walking up a few extra steps to give him more speed.

“Be careful, Draco,” she added, resting her weight against the staircase. “I’ll be even later to Charms if I have to track down a house elf to clean up a body on the base level.”

“Malfoy,” was the last thing he muttered before he jogged to the end of the staircase, gracefully leaping across the gap. Y/N’s breath caught for a split second, but he stuck the landing, spinning around to beam at her.

“Told you. Easy.”

“I literally never recall you saying that.”

He dramatically threw his hands up. “I put my life on the line, sacrifice my soul to save your textbooks and this is how you repay me?”

“I thought you said it was easy.” She cocked an eyebrow, smirking back at him.

He stood there for a few moments, his features suddenly softening as he gazed at her. “Pass me my cloak and things. We haven’t got all day.”

Y/N obeyed, gathering up his things and separating them from hers. He had thrown his books so haphazardly that she was having a difficult time telling the difference between the two. She slung his cloak over her shoulder as she worked, opening the books and searching for names. Neither of their Potions books were marked up, much to her disappointment.

“Hurry up?” Draco’s voice was no longer as harsh as before, ending like a question instead of a command.

“I’m going as fast as I can,” she told him.

Before she could finish flipping through their textbooks--she knew she had written something somewhere--the staircase began screeching again.

Y/N’s eyes shot up, meeting Draco’s. They looked just as confused as hers.

The staircase began moving again, albeit much slower and wobblier than usual.

“Y/N, you need to jump!” His voice was filled with an urgency Y/N had never heard from the boy before.

“But my books...”

“Do it!”

Against her better judgment, she grabbed her satchel with her wand and stationary and leapt off the end of the staircase, praying that she had enough momentum to make it to Draco.

A pale arm reached out and snatched her, pulling her the rest of the distance. Y/N hit the ground with ungraceful smack, pulling Draco down on top of her.

“Are you alright?”

Y/N opened her eyes to see Draco inches from her face, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He had very pretty eyes, and if she looked close enough, she could see the slightest hints of blue in his grey eyes.

“My books,” she croaked.

“You really should’ve been a Ravenclaw.”

With that, Draco got off of her, sitting up against the wall and looking out at the staircase. Y/N followed suit, ignoring her aching body.

She gasped as she saw what was in front of her--the staircase was rotating, turning upside down and throwing everything that had been on it to the ground.

“Maybe I should’ve just bit the bullet and levitated them anyways,” Y/N sighed, scooting a little closer to Draco, who laughed.

“Don’t worry about it too much. I’m pretty sure the school will replace them free of charge...if that’s something you’re concerned about. This was their fault.”

Y/N decided to ignore the subtle financial reference. “Fair point. I’m just upset that I’m missing Charms.”

Draco bumped her with his shoulder. “I’m not. This was way more entertaining than that blasted class would ever be.”

“I’m touched.”

“No, really, I guess they do teach you how to banter at Ilvermorny.”

“No.” Y/N smiled. “I’m just a natural talent.”

“That you are.”

Draco looked into her eyes for a few moments before snapping out of it. “We should go back to the dorms and find Snape. He’ll get this fixed immediately.”

Y/N was already on her feet, brushing off the dust on her robes. “Of course. Here’s your cloak, by the way.”

He looked her up and down.

“Keep it, at least until you get your own washed. You look like you’ve been living in squalor. I wasn’t expecting the floors to be that dirty.”

“But this’ll be way too big for me!”

“Would you rather look like someone who accidentally ordered the wrong size or like someone who spends her free time rolling around in dust piles?”

When Y/N rolled her eyes and turned away from him, he took that as an answer. “Exactly. I’m sure they won’t look awful. Just...do it now.”

Feeling slightly self conscious, Y/N peeled off her dirty cloak, setting it on the ground and reaching for Draco’s.

As expected, the sleeves went way past her hands. Y/N held it up to him as evidence, cocking an eyebrow.

“C’mere,” he said, rolling his eyes (but still smiling slightly). She stepped forward and watched in shock as Draco gently cuffed her (his?) sleeves so they barely brushed the middles of her wrists. “You’re such a drama queen. This was such an easy fix.”

“Oh, I’m the drama queen?”

“I never said I wasn’t one too!”

“You implied it!”

“I most certainly did not!”

“You’re the one who made me put it on in the first place!”

“Because I was being chivalrous!”

“Oh, because chivalry is the first thing I think of when I think of you!”

Draco stepped forward, catching her wrist and pushed her back into the wall. Y/N stared up at him with wide eyes.

“Thinking of me now, huh, are we?” His words held a light tone, but the look on his face and proximity of him hinted at a deeper meaning.

“Sure?” answered Y/N, her voice much higher than usual. “So?”

Y/N had meant to challenge him to another battle of wits, but Draco seemed to take it as a different invitation.

He leaned forward, closing the gap between them and pressing his lips to hers. It was gentler than she would’ve expected from him and took her by complete surprise.

Y/N stood frozen in his grasp, her eyes wide open. Draco seemed to realize this and sprung away from her.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, I dunno what got into me, I guess I thought that you would’ve wanted...” He trailed off, shyly meeting her gaze.

“It’s okay, really,” she said. “I just wasn’t expecting it. I didn’t think you thought of me like that.”

Draco swallowed, once, twice. “I really don’t have to, either. I can leave you alone if you’d like.”

“I wouldn’t like that.” Y/N shifted her weight back and forth, fiddling with the ends of her sleeves. “We can...try again? If you’d like, of course.”

He looked like he was about to take her up on the offer, but at the last second, he stopped.

“I’m sorry.It just feels wrong to do it here.”

Y/N tried to conceal how much the rejection stung, but the blush was obvious on her skin. “That’s o-okay. Don’t worry about it. I’m gonna go find Snape. You go get another cloak.”

Y/N couldn’t sleep.

It was just like that first night, but this time, it wasn’t the time difference keeping her awake.

Her reason was stupid; she knew it was. She had just met Draco and it was unfair for her to have already given his expectations and a role to fill...and incredibly unreasonable. Completely irrational. She might as well call up St. Mungo’s and request a psychiatric evaluation.

MIllicent was kind, but Y/N knew her well enough to know that she’d keep her word about throwing her into the lake. If she kept sighing and rolling around, she would be in for a treat.

Her body was still sore from the short meeting it had with the ground earlier that day as she eased herself out of the bed and made her way towards the common room. Out of habit, she snatched her cloak, only to realize that it was still Draco’s.

Shit.

The blade in her chest only twisted further at the thought of him.

Stop thinking about it, stop thinking about it.

In any other case, Y/N would’ve draped the cloak over her shoulders, but she didn’t want to be reminded anymore of him than she had to be. She didn’t understand why he had suddenly decided to pull away--it wasn’t like anything really changed. Maybe she had had bad breath? Maybe her lips were too chapped?

It was pathetic, really, getting her heart broken within the first three weeks of school. She’d never even though of herself as a romantic, either--but Draco’s face could easily convert anyone to believe hopelessly in love.

Once again, she ascended the stairs into the common room, relishing in the quiet and calm it brought. But wait--she saw movement in the corner of her eye.

Turning, she saw Draco laying on the same couch as last time, staring straight at her.

“Hey,” she whispered. “Sorry to disturb you.”

“Is that my cloak?”

Of course the first thing he had to say to her was a conviction.

“Uh, yeah. Here, you can have it.”

Y/N began striding towards him, holding her arms out to offer the cloak. Surprisingly, he shook his head, retracting his hands.

“No. You look cold.”

Y/N allowed a comeback to die on her tongue, instead awkwardly standing there.

“Well, aren’t you going to sit down with me already?” He settled back into the couch, nodding towards the vacant spot next to him.

Against her better judgment, Y/N sat down beside him, tucking her legs up under her body. She shivered as the cool dungeon air wafted past her.

“I knew you were cold,” he mumbled, taking his cloak from her hands and draping it over both of them. “Isn’t that better?”

“You sound like my parents.”

He allowed a small smile to creep across his face as they sat together in silence, leaning closer into her. Their shoulders brushed, and Y/N realized that she could feel heat radiating off of him.

“You’re very warm.”

“You’re very cold.”

Y/N shifted further away from him as the awkwardness maxxed out.

“Hey, so about today...can we talk about what happened between us? I mean, when you kissed me and then changed your mind?” Y/N’s voice crackled out. She didn’t trust herself to speak at a volume louder than a whisper.

“So about that,” he murmured back. “I never changed my mind. It just didn’t feel right at the moment, not because of you, but because of the situation.”

“Oh.”

“So...er..” he leaned towards her, cupping her face with his hand. It was warm and surprisingly soft, and his eyes nearly glowed in the dark when she looked into them. “Do you still want to try again?”

Y/N didn’t need words to answer that, only actions.

final a/n: so basically the tea is that i SUCK ass at writing actually fluff scenes when it comes down to kissing like i don’t know what’s too much and what’s too little and what’s too cringy so i just avoid it oops. hope you enjoyed. if you want to collab where i write the tension and the build up and you write the fluff please let me know because that would make my life so much easier omfg

#draco #draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco imagine #draco x oc #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x oc #draco malfoy x y/n #slytherin #ilvermorny #hogwarts #harry potter imagine #reader insert

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millennial-ring · 4 years ago

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Can we get more info on 5-7?

5. Dear God

So this one is ANCIENT (2012!!!) and idk why it’s still in my WIPs folder because I do clean it out/reorganize it every few years or so (which is why that unfinished powershipping christmas fic wasn’t on the list, cause I moved it to a different folder). Sadly the title makes it seem more interesting than it actually is - it’s just a few paragraphs and nothing really happens at all.

Russet eyes were glazed over as they watched the rain pelt the ground, each drop making tiny indents in the dirt, puffs of the still-dry earth floating up with each splash before settling down again, the process repeating over...and over... Rain drummed against the body of a beaten up jeep, the only prominent sound within miles, save to the sound of the rain falling in the grass, and the dirt, and the leather jacket Bakura wore.

The man blinked as water ran down his face, following the curve of his brow and rolling over the crease of his eyelid, flowing into his eye. The water pooled between his lids, blurring his vision for a few moments until he blinked again, and the water was squeezed out to mingle with the rest on his face, like a single, solitary tear. He inhaled slowly, then let the breath out in a quick huff, turning away from the long stretch of dirt road in front of him. Behind him, another long chunk of drivable desert. He growled under his breath and began to pace, wet sand squishing under his boots, gravel shifting with each step.

How could be trapped here, in the middle of fucking nowhere, with a flat fucking tire and no spare?

It was inspired by this Avenged Sevenfold song and I vaguely remember that it was going to be thiefshipping, about the various trials Bakura goes through to get back to Malik after a fight or something but... 🤷

6. Domestic Disturbance

This one is also super short, more fleshed out in my mind than on paper, and I started writing it after we had to call the cops on our neighbors because they were having a very loud and long argument (like, over an hour of yelling). Inspiration comes from the dumbest places with me, haha, but this is another one of those “why is this still in my wips” documents because I don’t have any intention of finishing it. After writing what I did I kinda had a “maybe these kinds of situations shouldn’t be your inspiration for fanfics, weirdo” moment and I scrapped it. But anyway!

The story goes that Bakura was playing some Wii game, lost grip on the controller, and accidentally chucked it and broke a vase because he wasn’t wearing the wrist strap. Malik hears the crash and comes around the corner, lecturing him about “how many times have i told you i s2g bakura why are you like this” even as Bakura’s already beginning to clean up the mess. Bakura gruffly tells him to chill out because nothing important was broken anyway, just “that ugly ass vase” and he holds up a piece for Malik to see. The tension thickens immediately and Malik speaks with measured anger instead of the usual screaming, so Bakura knows He Fucked Up. “That was a gift from my sister.” Bakura panics a bit on the inside, but outside he scoffs and he’s all like “even better, tell her she has awful tastes” because ykno. He’s like that. Doesn’t wanna admit he fucked up, doesn’t wanna take responsibility or acknowledge he hurt Malik’s feelings. At this point I’d stopped writing it, but still have the basic outline. The regular bickering becomes a super intense all out screaming match about basically anything and everything, all the tiny little things they’d been burying for as long as they’d lived together finally coming out, start demanding why they ever thought this would work and they’re just about to get to that great crescendo where they're about to break up (”Well then maybe you shouldn’t have brought me back!” “At this point I’m inclined to agree!” Bakura’s shocked. “Well...then is this going where I think it’s going?” “I think it is.” “Then say it.” “...” “Say you want to break up!” “I...Bakura, I...” when someone knocks on the door. Heyo, it’s two cops, saying someone called in a domestic disturbance. Malik snaps that they’re fine, still pissed from the fight, but obviously like no Malik that’s not gonna help. So one officer brings Bakura out into the hall to question him and the other stays with Malik. Cop asks if they’re together, how long, what the fight was about, etc etc, and then if the fight had been physical at all. Bakura recoils in shock and practically screams “No!” “You never hit Malik?” “I would never!” “And Malik wouldn’t hit you?” There’s a few things there, bc I wasn’t sure how I wanted Bakura to respond; make an “only if he asked wink wonk” joke that the cop rolls his eyes at, or stammer that “i mean he’s smacked my head once or twice but it never hurt and i was being super annoying at the time and it was more like playful slapping” but either way the cop asks for a more direct answer or for Bakura to elaborate and Bakura gets pissed, says Malik would cut off his own hand before he hit Bakura because obviously. Cop seems taken aback but nods, and then lectures Bakura a bit about volume, tells him maybe one of them should pack a bag and stay with friends or family for a few days. Their partner comes out soon after and the two cops leave. Bakura goes back inside, where Malik is standing with his arms crossed, looking shaken with red rimmed eyes. They look at each other, feeling awkward, but then they make tea, sit down, and have a calmer “are we really like that?” conversation. they admit a lot of their fights are pointless and stupid and they’re just fighting to fight because it’s Their Thing and aha, aren’t we so cute and quirky, arguing is our foreplay - which it is, but they admit they’ve taken it too far, gotten too used to snapping at each other when something happens, and some of their issues (like Bakura disrespecting Malik’s siblings, and Malik’s control freak attitude) really need to be sat down and talked out, not screamed out. They apologize, foreheads pressed together, and Malik thumbs a tear from Bakura’s cheek. Bakura strokes his fingers through Malik’s hair. Malik makes a “well you know the best part about fighting, right?” and Bakura laughs, and then it ends.

7. But he came back

So if y’all didn’t know I recently commissioned a(n amazing) fic from @/sitabethel (not properly tagging cause i don’t wanna bother them). In it, Bakura promises Malik he’ll come back after his final showdown with Atem, but ten years pass and Malik gets engaged to Seto. It’s corporate theifshipping and obviously I recommend reading it - but it’s based on an RP I did with a friend of mine years ago. In the RP, Bakura was pissed Malik hadn’t waited for him and does the whole “why did I even bother coming back I literally only came back to be with you?????” and Malik being like “Sorry? But you took a long fucking time and I had to do something to stop the loneliness.” We never finished it, but when we dropped it Bakura was starting to heal and move on and we had plans to end it powershipping and tendershipping - and Bakura catching the bouquet at the wedding and Ryou immediately being like >:) but anyway. The concept stuck with me and I really liked the idea of Bakura coming back to that situation and more so rolling with it - maybe a touch bitter at first, but hey, he’s nothing if not adaptable, and he absolutely invites himself into the relationship in the clunkiest way possible.

“But he came back” was the start of my own attempt to write something with that kind of plot. When I write a fic, I start with a vague collection of ideas or scenes I want to write, and then when I have enough to work with, I begin organizing them into an outline. This doc is just a very small collection of ideas and dialogue, mixing some things taken from the RP and my own ideas. It’s mostly things like how Malik and Kaiba get to the marriage point, starting with an impromptu kinda tipsy make out session hidden away in the kitchen during a party Yugi’s throwing, and how they navigate each other’s trauma and fumble their way into a genuine romance despite everything. I’ve never managed to sit down and work it out into an outline of any kind, and the way I wanted to explore Malik and Bakura’s relationship before the show down, Malik and Kaiba’s relationship building afterwards, and then the relationship building with all three of them meant 30 chapters, at least (the original rp is over 2,500 pages and again, we had only just started with Bakura wanting to ask Ryou out and going to Malik for advice adjklj, when we dropped it) and well. yall know i’m bad at writing multi fic chapters

#wip tag

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hawkbucks · 5 years ago

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16. the one where anything written on your skin appears on your soulmate's skin as well. I just imagine MIT tony falling asleep and rhodey drawing a dick on his face which also appears on Bucky aka the winter soldier one of the most deadly Assassins

This really got away from me. Somewhat angsty? Idk hgjfkdls I go from talking about a dick on Bucky’s face to… well, a certain date. It sorta ends happy.

The Asset stares blankly at the concrete wall in front of him, shoulders stiff and knuckles turning white as he grips the edge of the steel slab they have the audacity to call a bed. He breathes in and out, in and out, long, deep lungfuls of air. The taste of ice still lingers on his tongue, and there’s a chill in his bones that aches.

His Handler circles around him, hands clasped behind their back as they relay the details of his mission. “Do you understand?” they ask, snappish, barely glancing at him out of the corners of their eyes. He isn’t important enough for direct eye contact; he’s learned that a long time ago.

Before he can respond, his Handler does a double-take, looking at him with widening eyes. “What,” they start, “in the fuck is that.”

He makes no noise as they hoist him up and drag him in front of a stained mirror, their clipped fingernails digging into the flesh of his right bicep. Right in the middle of his forehead is a rather… phallic looking symbol drawn in black marker. Still dazed, he looks confusedly at his Handler, unsure if this is some sort of test.

An irritated growl rips itself from his Handler’s throat before he finds himself being shoved back into his cryostasis chamber. Before he slips back into the darkness, he picks up bits and pieces of harshly spoken Russian. Something to do with a “soulmate”? Whatever it is, he’s sure that he won’t be woken up again until that problem is solved.

Thankfully, the next time he’s up to bat, there are no phallic symbols drawn anywhere on his body. In fact, nothing appears on his skin the entire time his Handler gives him information on another mission. He’s noticed, though, that the once-clean concrete wall is now stained with mottled red, greens, and blacks. The light in the back right of the room–which flickered the last time he was here–now seems to have been ripped out, if the copper wires dangling from its previously occupied hole in the ceiling is any indication.

He can’t help but to wonder if they remember what happened last time. Or maybe they do, and they’re just desperate. It’s not like he’s going to ask; that’s a quick way for him to get disciplined for speaking out of turn.

A manila folder is pressed into his hands. He understands what he has to do.

He sits on a rather uncomfortable plastic chair behind the counter in a convenience store. The actual cashier is conked out in the backroom, their name tag currently decorating the front of his shirt. A cheesy pop song blares from the radio sitting on a black table behind him, of which the audio quality is not the greatest.

There’s really nothing to be done as he waits for his target to come in, besides reading a battered pile of magazines sitting in a cardboard box by his feet. The top one doesn’t even seem socially acceptable to be read in public. He absentmindedly drums his fingers on the surface of the counter along with the beat of the song, reading the far away labels of Doritos bags and Red Bull cans. Out of all the places for his target to frequent…

As he studies a mole on the heel of his palm, blocky–yet elegant–writing starts to form across its surface.

Call Jan – need help for lab tmrw

His brows knit together, and he clenches and unclenches his fist, watching as the words roll and crinkle on his skin. If he sees what they write on their skin, could they see what he writes on his? Curiosity bubbles up in him like a volcano waiting to explode.

Biting his bottom lip, he reaches for a ballpoint pen sitting on the edge of the counter. He presses the cool tip against his wrist and writes. Hello. His letters are lopsided and decidedly ugly compared to the other’s, but at least it’s legible. He hopes.

Holy shit, is hastily scribbled below his greeting. All these years, and now you answer?

Yes. Sorry.

You should be! I’ve been sending you messages ever since I knew what a soulmate was, but you never wrote back! I just assumed I didn’t have one.

Something like guilt stirs at the bottom of his stomach, but his attention is drawn to that word: Soulmate?

For the next few minutes, no new words appear. He’s on the verge of giving up and scrubbing away the pen ink on his wrist before he gets a reply. You aren’t joking.

Why would I be?

I don’t know. To screw with me or something? Have you been living under a rock?

Kinda. That’s close enough to the truth.

Yeah, you must have been if you haven’t replied to my messages for the past 9 years. What’s your name?

He frowns. It changes. One day he’s Nicholai and the other he’s David. He’s been called Matthieu and he’s been called Sebastian. He doesn’t have a true, solid name. Then, one pops in his head. One that feels vaguely familiar, comforting in a way that he can’t put a finger on. James.

Cool. My best friend is named James, too. My name is Anthony, but you can call me Tony.

Hello, Tony.

Hi, James! A small smiley face appears next to the exclamation point.

The bell above the door rings, bringing him back to reality. He snaps his head up, recognizing his target’s face from the dossier. I have to go now, Tony, but I’ll talk to you soon.

He doesn’t get to see Tony’s reply before he throws the pen with devastating accuracy.

By the time he was finished dispatching his target, Tony’s messages have all disappeared. He feels a twinge of disappointment in his chest when he realizes that he never got to see what Tony said after he bid him farewell, and only God knows how long it’ll be before he’s taken back out.

He scrubs any and all traces of the ink off of his arm, not wanting his Handler to demand an explanation should they see even a faint mark. If he were to mention this soulmate of his… well, he has no doubt that what they would put him through would make him wish he never even picked up that pen.

Throwing the pen into the cardboard box from earlier, he makes his way out of the store with no more than a passing glance at the now bloodied floor.

The walls are stainless steel now, not concrete, and the lights are all a harsh white that wash the room in its fluorescence. His Handler is different–younger and crueler in the way the corners of their mouth turn up.

Instead of a folder, he’s handed some black device, molded perfectly to fit in his ear. They motion at him to put it on. With shaky hands, he does.

A voice booms in his ear, much too loud for how sensitive his senses are, but he manages to keep his face schooled. He grits his teeth, jaw clenching. His Handler looks him straight in the eye. “You keep this on you at all times, do you understand?” He realizes right then that it’s their voice that he’s hearing.

He nods stiffly, glaring up at them.

They grin, looking almost wolf-like. “Good.”

He stops by a convenience store like the one before to buy himself a couple of granola bars and energy drinks. If this mission is going to go the way he thinks it’s going to go, he’s going to be camping at that place for a while, and what his Handler packed for him can barely be considered food.

His Handler also doesn’t seem to keep that close of an eye on their wallet.

“I know you took some money,” they say, although they don’t sound that annoyed.

He rolls his eyes, picking up a small bag of chips. He can’t exactly reply, not without a microphone. As he walks to the checkout, a pack of pens catches his eye.

Without hesitation, adds it to his basket.

Hello, Tony, he writes over his pulsepoint, sitting in a tree next to a craggly, old street. Underneath him lies a motorcycle, covered up by the bushes. The night sky above him is a gradient of hazy blues and blacks, with the only light being provided by the flashlight he has pinned to the front of his vest.

Asshole, is all he gets back. You and I have a very different definition of “soon.”

I’m sorry.

It’s been 2 years, James. He sucks in a breath. 2 years? He’s sure that he’s been out for longer than that before, but when put it in the perspective of someone who doesn’t know who he is… Where have you been?

My job is very demanding. It’s not a lie, but it’s not the truth either.

What are you? The President of some foreign country?

No.

A spy? An assassin? A soldier?

I can’t tell you.

Great, that means you’re some sort of super secret government spy. Don’t worry, I won’t tell. Can you at least tell me how old you are? I didn’t get to ask you that last time.

Using the bottom of the pen, he scratches at his temple. His age? Like his name, it fluctuates, but he settles on a number that feels right. 26.

Oh. You’re only 5 years older than me. Thank god, I thought you were like… 45.

5 years. So, Tony’s 21? I’m not.

Yeah, I know that now… so, how are you?

I’m bored. Waiting.

For what?

It’s for my job.

…Okay. I’m kind of waiting, too.

For what?

My parents. They’re out somewhere, and I wanted to surprise them.

We can talk. It’ll be less boring.

Tony draws another smiley face. Okay!

From their chat, he learns that Tony is wicked smart. He attended M.I.T, made a functioning robot, and obtained 2 master’s degrees before he was even able to drink. His best friend is in the Air Force, and he has this butler he loves like a father. He likes shrimp carbonara and refuses to touch green beans unless they’re shoved down his throat. Tony, he concludes, is utterly fascinating, and he makes that clear in all the sentences he writes back.

What about you? Tony writes after going on a paragraph-long rant about some movie series called Star Wars. (They both had to wait for some messages to disappear lest they start taking off their pants for more writing space.)

What do you mean?

Do you like Star Wars?

I’ve never watched it.

Tony’s next response takes up a good chunk of his arm: BLASPHEMY!

Can you give me your number? We need to arrange a meetup, and it gets exhausting to write.

His hand freezes. Number? I don’t have one.

A few seconds pass. Then: You can’t be serious, James.

I’m being serious.

Yeah. You’re the same guy who didn’t know what a soulmate was. I believe you.

Thank you.

You know what you can do? I’ll give you an address. You in New York?

Yes.

Good. What’s your last name?

God, he really wishes Tony would stop asking these kinds of questions. He settles on the first one that pops in his head. Barnes.

Okay. Go here–an address is scribbled across the crook of his elbow–say your name is James Barnes, and ask for Tony.

Tony what?

Tony Stark.

He drops his pen. Stark. There’s no way. Except that his Handler gave him all of the information on his target, including the fact that they have a son named Anthony, but he preferred to be called Tony. Anthony’s birth date matches up with his Tony’s age. Anthony went to M.I.T, too. Anthony reported having made contact with his soulmate 2 years ago, having previously thought he had none.

In the distance, he hears the purring of a car’s engine.

He switches off his flashlight and jumps down.

James, are you there? appears on his right palm as he smashes Howard Stark’s face in. You didn’t even say bye. Kinda rude.

He finds himself scrubbing away all evidence of conversation on his arm again, this time using boiling hot water and going until his skin is pink and raw.

Back in the base, his Handler grabs at his forearm, gripping him so tightly that the skin around their hand turns a pale white. “We know you’ve been writing to someone,” they whisper, low and dangerous. “Stop. Now.”

He nods.

My parents are dead, is scribbled over the middle of his right forearm. The glass in front of him fogs up with ice. If you’re there, I really need to talk to someone right now.

James?

Where are you?

I thought we were going to watch Star Wars together. I’ve asked, and no one’s said that you’ve visited, and I told everyone that you pretty much get priority. There are only two James Barnes that I know of: you and Captain America’s old war buddy. Were you named after him?

I liked talking to you. You can’t just pull another 2 years on me. First time I didn’t mind that much, because we didn’t really know each other, and I didn’t want to seem clingy, but I really like you, James.

It gets hard to ignore. There’s a tugging sensation in his gut every time he allows one of Tony’s messages to go unanswered. He manages to shake off the tail he has on his next mission. They must’ve assigned a more inexperienced person. Who knew they were accepting amateurs these days?

He swipes a pen from an office supply store. Hello, Tony.

You. It’s amazing how such a short word can hold so much bitterness.

I’m sorry.

What the fuck is up with you?

Has it been that long? Sure, the world seems far more technologically advanced than it did when he talked to Tony a 2nd time, but he figures it can’t be more than 8, 10 years.

It’s been 30 fucking years, James. Oh.

…I’m really sorry.

Don’t be. But he feels like he should be. Listen, I can’t write that much right now. I’m on my way to Afghanistan for a demonstration. We can try again later. Bye.

Bye. I’m sorry, again.

Sure.

TONY STARK: MISSING?

Three months later, and, for some reason, he’s still out in the field. Something his Handler–another new one–said about another target having cropped up during the tail end of his original mission.

Don’t tell me you haven’t seen the news.

Quickly, he dips into a store along the street and asks to use their bathroom. He fishes the very same pen he took from the supply store out of his jacket pocket. I have. Are you okay?

I’ve been better.

As long as–he’s cut off by Tony’s writing overlapping his own. Where are you?

In a bathroom, which is inside a store.

Smartass. Where’s the store? Give me the address.

Why?

I’m coming to see you. Right now.

What if I’m on the other side of the country?

I have a private jet… of sorts.

But by the time you arrive, I won’t be in that store anymore.

Just give me the goddamn address.

So he does. Meet me inside.

As he rifles through a rack of leather jackets that cost an obscene amount of money, he feels a tap on his shoulder.

He whirls around quickly, eyes flaring, before he comes face to face with the most expensive-looking man he’s ever seen. They don’t seem the type to be working with his, er, employers, and with that sling around their arm, he doubts they could do much damage to him. So, he relaxes. Just a little.

“Are you James?” they ask. “Please be James. I’ve asked at least 4 other guys already and they’ve all looked at me weird.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“It’s me. Tony.”

WOO, I ACTUALLY MADE THEM MEET AT THE END. I was actually going to end it right after Tony leaves for Afghanistan, but I decided to let them meet ‘cause y’all deserve that after the last fill.

Tony still doesn’t know James killed his parents. He doesn’t know James is the Winter Soldier. But I had to stop or else this really would’ve… turned into its own monster.

Thank you for reading!

#old posts #filled #anon

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