#often doing that small gesture to let each other not forget their roots

[den-kunn]

HC: Raiden and Fujin's love language is touching foreheads and feel each other's powers, a small gesture from their parents that makes them feel like home.

[thornstocutyouwith]

Watching them Journey looks on with gentle delight, then he shook his head at their statement "Uh, well things are easier to learn in childhood. We are very much like sponges, then. Often to the point where our entire life can be made at that very point." He shrugged a bit "Certainly our personalities start to take root, in those years." But he certainly could say a lot of the essential parts of life weren't taught at any time in life than in childhood. Though he also was currently avoiding talking about how strict his mother had been in those days. Clearing his throat, he ducked his head a bit "I'm not all that good at any, violins were much more successful to learn, in my case." Laughing, he glanced to the side.

As Astrid had continued with the praise he felt shy about it, and nodded "Ah, thanks." He mumbled awkwardly as he turned his head, trying to hide and failing in doing so "I didn't have many friends, so I guess it was from that, I was able to kind of nurture my interests a lot. I don't think many people have that opportunity." He wasn't raised in a poor household with parents that didn't put off their children onto the TV screens. His parents were wealthy, and hard working, and they put that mentality in their children. But where it mattered in their household, and not so much in less wealthy one's, was that his parents could afford to indulge him in many if not all of his whims. Journey lets out a breath.

At their question, he nods "Yeah. It does. Where they say that opposites attract, while it can be true, of course. Everyone needs their individuality...Mutual interests are also great, of course." Biting down on his lips, he swallowed a bit "It's a nice balance, probably keeps things interesting to keep finding out new things about another." He glanced away "Maybe nicer still, that both parties can get involved in those different interests, in some way. A true display of love, in understanding. Or at least, trying to." Silent then, he watched them, waiting till Astrid spoke again. When they spoke of not knowing what love really was he quirked an eyebrow "That's completely understandable. I have a secret for you-" He leaned in close to their ear "No one truly does. They are all emulating it from what other people think it is, and they are too."

Pulling away then, he grinned "Love for others shouldn't be something that's from a TV show, or something. You should make it personal, your own. Because everyone jumps too quickly into what they imagine love should be like. They forget the important thing about what love is." Journey shifted a little bit "My expression of love is not something that can be easily understood, or made for other people to sell to the world through screens, or words authentically. It will never hit the same as when it comes from me, to the one I love. Marketing it as anything else is hollow in comparison, that's why I think it's goofy watching displays of love people act out in public, because some actor maybe did it on TV." Shaking his head he rolled his eyes a little.

"Although, there's plenty of originality, don't get me wrong. It's usually all still a copy of something from an inauthentic place. It's no wonder relationships tend to not last very long these days. Giving ourselves away, being copycats, makes relationships stale, quickly." Brushing his fingers along the neck of the violin he brought them over to Astrid's, carefully placing them and applying pressure to each where they would need to be to make a more beautiful sound once they would use the bow "Hm. As I have said, I would not have asked otherwise." Taking a step back then he's walking around to the front of them, letting them go on with it "Now, please-" Lifting a hand he gestured to them to play, then tilt his head with their question.

Thinking, he makes a face "I don't know. Fate, maybe? The universe conspiring. Ooo." Journey dropped his hand then "Well, I suppose you could say it's kinda a small belief in the religion I practice." He mumbled wondering why they were stalling on playing "You can play, go ahead." Journey encouraged gently "Let's hear your fingers sing."

astrid's taking it all in, listening to his words, nodding their head. staying content --, giving small looks here & there, keeping in mind that they're trying to get to know him better. " you must've been really good if you were breezing through instruments like that. almost makes me envy you, y'know. " short laugh leaves their lips, completely & utterly entranced by the man, if anything. the more they got to know about him, the more that astrid wanted to -- be enveloped in his life, as silly as that sounded. it's not that astrid was nosy, it was the fact that they wanted to get to know him, in more ways than someone else has, or tried. they're . . they're interested in the other, if that much made sense. " jesus christ. i mean, you're a very talented . . man. from what i've seen. " they're gazing away, trying not to show off the particular red color on their cheeks, of course, trying their best to seem interested, just not . . too interested, if that made sense.

" yeah, it does, doesn't it? all of our . . interests, " they're remarking, not in a bad way, however, still trying their best to come to terms with actually getting along with someone that knows how they feel, on a comforted level. " you know, i really don't know what love feels like. i know, it sounds absolutely stupid, but . . it's true. " their words, though, swallowing a dry lump in their throat, eyes shot his way before nodding their head.

astrid's giving a look, laughing softly. " well, i would like to know if you were being serious or not, journey. " coming out as calm, astrid lets out a noise, cautiously taking the instrument in hand, shaky. not wanting to destroy it, however, wanting to ensure that the other has eyes on them at all times possible. " you should, uh . . show me, " speaking quickly, astrid looks over at him, a near panic before chewing down on their lower lip : processing things as much as they really can. brows arching at his words, head tilting. " what kind of forces are we talking about, hm? " they're questioning, wondering what he really meant by all of that. " what about it? "

[miakataylor]

Newt x reader ~ A Cold Bed

I woke up, and the first thing I noticed was that I was in a cold bed.

I pulled the blanket up under my chin and reminded myself that a cold bed would be the only thing I'd ever wake up in again.

It was one year today. One year since I watched the love of my life die in my arms. I didn't want to get out of bed, but there was to much to be done. This wasn't a free for all. 

Everyone else seemed to know about it too, because all day I kept getting worried glances from my friends and curious ones from the other immunes. I wanted to snap at them, tell them to shuck off, but I knew they were just worried. But I didn't want them to worry, I just wanted to forget. 

I hadn't said much after... well, you know. And I didn't sing anymore either, my music and inspiration leaving me when Newt did. And it had been that way for a whole year now, not a single thing changed. 

At lunch, I grabbed an apple from the kitchen and walked down to the beach. There were a few couples there, spread out so they could have their lunch dates in peace. I wondered what it would have been like, if he was here-

'No.' I shook my head to clear my thoughts and moved on, not looking at them again as I made my way around them to where flat rocks jutted out over the ocean, and I sat down, tossing my apple from one hand to the other.

I wasn't really hungry. I had just grabbed it because I knew that if I didnt, someone would come "check up on me". 

I never really ate much anymore, but no one else needed to know that.

I sighed, and smoothed my - his - jacket down and pulled it tighter around my shoulders when the wind blew in from the ocean.

It smelled of salt and of so many other things I couldn't place. It was a small I couldn't quite explain, but I had loved since the first time I had smelled it.

I closed my eyes and let the wind blow my hair back from my face, enjoying the scent and taking in the rare moment of peace. Then that moment was broken.

I heard someone approach the rock where I sat, and then felt as they plopped down next to me, not bothering to open my eyes and look to see who the intruder of my peace was. 

"Hey." It was Minho. "Watcha doin?"

I didnt answer, instead leaning over and resting my head on his shoulder. He smelled like the ocean, too.

He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him. "I know you probably don't want to hear this," he began hesitantly, pulling his head back to look me in the eyes.

"Minho, if this is about Newt...." I looked up at him, my exhaustion showing through. I didn't want to be reminded of everything I had lost, again.

He disregarded it, and continued on.

"But you really do have friends here who will help you move on if you would let them." I sighed, defeated, and looked back out to the ocean.

My friend continued in a quieter voice. "You know Newt wouldn't have wanted to hold you down after he was gone. I think... I think it's time to let him go."

When I didn't respond to that, he stood and began walking away, leaving me to think about his words. As he left, he was met by Brenda.

" Minho, y/n. There is a new group that just came in, and it's got a lot more people than usual. Vince asked for your guys' help."

"Alright." I stood up and followed them, slipping the apple into my pocket for later. 

This happened quite often. More people, mostly kids like us, made their way here looking for refuge, a home, protection from WCKD and the Scorch.

Minho and Brenda jogged ahead, but I was in no hurry. It's not like there was a push for time. Here, we had all the time in the world to do anything... and sometimes, that could be a curse. More often than not, I would sit alone in my thoughts... and that's when the feelings I tried so hard to push down got the better of me. 

When I reached the group, I could tell something was off. While the other immunes got the newbies, or Greenies, as we still liked to call them, all settled in, taking names and what not, I saw a group of people- my people-  not moving, just staring with shocked expressions on their faces, a few even crying.

I froze. What had happened? Did someone get hurt? Even though my mind was racing with every possible way something could have gone wrong, my feet wouldn't move. 

Then, Thomas launched himself forward, then Minho, then Brenda, and Gally wrapped his arms around the group. It took me a moment before I realized they were all hugging someone.

Minho was the first to pull back. "Wait until y/n gets here!" I heard the person receiving the affection say something, but it was to quiet to hear and I could barely make out a voice at all. I took a small step closer. 

Minho answered with, "Yes, of course she is! That girl is stronger than all of us shanks combined." The group laughed, some through their tears, and Minho turned to look for me.

I didn't move. I wasn't sure who, or what, waited for me, and when Minho's eyes met mine, I could tell he was crying.

He gestured for me to go to him, but I didnt move, my feet rooted to the spot.

He came over to me and slung an arm around my shoulder, guiding me towards the group. "Minho... what happened?"

He didn't answer, and I could feel my heart beating faster than it should have been, out of fear or excitement, I wasn't sure.

As we approached the group, my friends pulled back to reveal the object of their affection and I felt my heart stop. My breath stuck in my throat and my hand flew to cover my mouth as my eyes began to water gainst my will.

"Newt?"

It was him. It was Newt.

His hair was longer than I remembered and his skin was darker from the sun too. But it was him, really him.

An agonizingly long moment passed when all we could do was look at each other, take in the differences since we had last seen each other, trying to accept the fact that we were actually there, together again.

Then everything seemed to happen all at once. A loud sob escaped my lips amd we rushed forward, me falling I to him and him wrapping me in a hug so tight I thought I'd feel it forever. If he hadn't been holding me, I would have fallen to the ground, my knees felt so weak.

I released a sob into his shoulder, my head trying to decided if this was real or not, and my heart hoping it was. 

 After a moment, he pulled back and looked into my eyes with his own dark ones. I touched his face, moving my hand across his jaw, up his cheek, around his eye, down his nose and ended on his lips.

"You're really here..." I was shaken, sure I was dreaming. "I watched you die..."

He shook his head. "WCKD found me. Well, what was left of WCKD." He glanced at Thomas when he said that. "Saved my life, gave me the cure... then tried to use me as their lab rat again. I got away, thanks to what was left of that Lawrence guy's army, and then it was arranged for me to come here with the next group...."

Vince walked up to us and shook Newts hand, beaming. "Its good to have you back with us. You've been... very missed."

Newt nodded his thanks, and pulled me closer to him, if that was possible.

After Vince had walked away, he tucked his head into the crook of my neck and whispered against my skin, "God, I missed you so much."

My tears began after that, and entire years worth of unfathomable sadness and bottles up grief pouring out in that moment. I cried, letting out all of the anger I didn't know I had stored up, all of the pain I had felt, all of the loss. 

"Promise me," I said through my tears, my voice breaking. "Promise me you'll never leave me again. Where you go, I will go too."

"I promise... where you go, I go."

Later that night, there was a celebration to welcome the Greenies to their new home. "How does it feel to be a Greenie again, Newt?" Fry pan teased at one point. "Better than you can imagine," he laughed, looking at me.

After catching up with the others, Newt led me back to our now shared hut, and pulled me into a hug.

"Y/n?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you marry me?"

I pulled back to look in his eyes, see if he truly meant it. He held my gaze expectantly and I felt tears sting my eyes once more and I nodded my head, unable to say anything for fear I would break down again.

"I love you so much," he said, his voice thick with emotion and his accent as soft and as strong as I remembered it.

"I love you too," I whispered, and kissed him without thinking.

He held my neck with one hand and pulled me closer with the other, kissing me back with the passion of a long lost lover.

We broke apart finally, our heads resting against each others as we breathed.

Then he picked me up and carried me over to our bed, kissing me all the way.

That night, just before I fell asleep, I heard him whisper, "I have been so lost without you... and now I am home."

I smiled for the first time in forever and drifted off with the thought, 'I'll never wake up in a cold bed again.'

~ 

8/10/21

[andraaste]

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 16

The Chapter is finally out my Guardians 🐉

Chapter 16 : In the deepest memories of the last of the dragons

My hands would follow their path taken for several minutes, forming various abstract forms of their weak caresses. Many chills arose from time to time with my fingers when I explored new areas but no protest was ever heard, which prompted me to venture out again and again, savoring this almost suspended moment in time.

Blinking hard with white lids in the dim daylight streaming through the curtains, my gaze fell for a moment on the long locks that partially obscured Lance's sleeping face. With his head resting on my bare chest, he didn't seem to want to wake up from his deep sleep, an arm slung over my request now firmly pressed against him.

I directed my caresses a little higher until I reached a scaly area on his shoulder. Fascinated, I drew each outline as if to come to memorize them, surprised to feel them vibrate with each passage of my fingers.

It had been some time since I realized one thing. One thing who, each time he let me see it, filled my heart a little more with new feelings.

More and more often in my presence, Lance seemed to forget his barriers. So sometimes the young man let an infinite number of improbably colored scales run over his skin while, at other times, his ice ran through my body without any logic, drawing complex and involuntary shapes. I’m always surprised at the sweetness of these manifestations, yet they are born of a raw, primitive nature. Because despite his human appearance, Lance was nonetheless a dragon whose instincts he had and, beyond the brutality that accompanied some, I loved to see him let go. I had the impression that in those rare moments when the barrier between his two forms was weakening, he could finally relax, really be himself.

But to share with him this moment of physical intimacy In purely instinctive outbursts, he loved to mark me with his presence, ranging from his powers to his scent and at times, to his claws. Lance had been unintentionally brutal at times, but was it strange if I admitted that I absolutely loved every moment ?

The dragon pulled me out of my reveries, stirring lightly. Lifting his face with still sleeping features, he arched an eyebrow as he analyzed the situation, his gaze drifting over our still naked bodies. My breath quickened as one of his hands lingered on the slope of my hip as his eyes were already dark with desire. Without warning, he tightened his embrace and rocked over me. His long hair tickled my face as he leaned down to explore every inch of my neck, making me moan in spite of myself with languor.

- Hello, my angel, he said in a hoarse voice against my skin.

I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders as a weary smile stretched my lips.

- Hello, my great dragon.

Lance laughed in the crook of my collarbone as he let his icy hands rest on my thighs, causing goose bumps to grow in the grooves of his palms. His lips entered the slope of my jaw, and when they finally met mine, it was with some authority that he lifted my legs on either side of his narrow hips.

We kissed for a long time, our tongues meeting without delay to deepen our embrace. Between my legs, I felt him pulsing more and more vigorously, increasing with maddening speed the desire that had not left me.

- You do well not to forget in whose arms you find, he amused himself in a voice with a much deeper sound than usual.

I dug my nails vigorously into his muscular back as his hips pushed against my lower abdomen.

- How could I, exactly ? I questioned him with difficulty, so much the least of his gestures obsessed me. You don't really help me forget it...

- It's true that I can't keep my human form completely, with you.

- I don't mind, you know, I said with a laugh.

A gentle smile lit up his face, which features often so harsh. In a light mood, the dragon lifted my chin with his fingers to orient my face in his direction. I plunged without hesitation into his eyes which had occupied all my thoughts for several weeks.

Becoming serious again, we didn’t say the least for several long seconds, we observe with a heavy look of meaning.

- Andraste...

I knew what was going on in his head.

We.

Our relationship, our past, our present... To be in each other's arms was absurd, totally unconventional and we were both deeply aware of it. What would become of each other once we got out of this room ?

Nothing. There was absolutely nothing we could become for each other. And we knew it.

Deciding to stop our respective paths of thought, I crossed the short distance between us, feverishly pressing my lips against his. I kissed him with anger, despair, envy. I placed my fears in those powerful hands that encircled my hips, those greedy lips that devoured mine as if to come and seek some breath. I needed to feel him losing control, needed to drown in his eyes that screamed at me that they loved me.

Or at least, during these short, resolutely forbidden moments.

- Please, don't say anything, I said between two kisses, starting to move my pelvis against his. We'll have plenty of time to worry about this later.

Seeming to consider my words at first, Lance suddenly planted one of his hands on my hip as I shifted more and more vigorously under his weight that crushed me. Not giving me time to think, he shamelessly slipped two fingers inside me without ever taking my eyes off suddenly feverish. Reaching my guard, he stirred slowly but confidently, torturing me with his thumb a little higher. My God, I had never wanted someone so much, I was sure.

Each of his movements made a myriad of sensations explode in the pit of my stomach, making me turn my head with his precise gestures. My pelvis quickly accompanies his fingers, guiding them silently while each of my moans is found drawn to his lips. When a multitude of stars erupted in my field of vision, I firmly grabbed his throat as he led me over the edge of the precipice without warning.

As I lost ground, I noticed with a blank eye that my light was diffused into him. Starting from the base of his neck just under my palm, it illuminated him tanned skin with its bright, warm colors. In this story, it wasn't Lance who lost control the most.

I think it was me.

Not that I ever really had control over my powers, that would have been lying. But I no longer control anything. My emotions, my fears, my desires; I was constantly jostled, tossed about between everything.

When the dragon in turn realized that I was marking him without permission with my light, he groaned in satisfaction before promptly removing his fingers from my privacy. I didn't have time to figure out what was happening to me as I already found myself astride him, Lance having grabbed me to reverse our places, his hands feverishly running my back as his tongue attacked my chest. Tilting my head back, I let his hungry mouth move up to my ear, biting my skin with his suddenly sharper teeth until it slightly marked me.

With one hand, I pushed him away in order to come and press his back authoritatively against the mattress. His gaze darkens again as I lean over him, starting a slow descent from his abdomen. Another gasp escaped him as my palm met his erection, slowly working its way up from the base to the end, never taking my eyes away from his. Lance slid his fingers in an inordinately gentle gesture through my hair to achieve my face, making it easier for me. His hands began to shake slightly when I finally took him in my mouth, unable to fully accommodate him as long as he was imposing.

His breathing quickened as I started my task, fascinated to be able to discover him in my turn as he had done that night with my body. Very soon, I heard him utter several quiet moans which excited me to the highest point before he hastily tugged at my hair to make me lift my head. Bluntly, he pulled me up to him while vigorously grabbing my lips, framing my face with his large hands.

- I think I want you too much, my angel.

*

The water hit my head heresy, hitting my long hair hard against my shoulders. How long have I been wandering here ? My eyes narrowed at the force of the rain that fell on me, I moved forward as in a kind of constant blur.

My gaze was followed by a small shadow which is quickly in front of me. Running under the downpours, she didn't seem to feel them, moving freely in the surrounding darkness. I put a feverish hand in front of my face to try to make out something around, having lost the figure between the trees. Sailing blind, a childish laugh catches my attention as I push two branches in my path. Deciding to follow the sound of that unfamiliar voice, I sank deeper into what looked like a real maze.

The closer I got to the shadow, the more it seemed to take shape before my eyes. Very soon, I could make out rainbow-colored hair that blended into pale skin, accompanied by two small horns. The young girl was running innocently, as light as the air despite the brutality of the force of nature that fell on me. My heart skipped a beat when I thought I was losing sight of her again, which prompted me to pick up my pace even more. I stumbled many times, sliding across the muddy ground, hitting oversized roots. The thundering sound of the rain covered the sound of my frantic breath, my hair clinging to my face, entering my mouth, sticking to my eyelashes. My sight was diminishing, darkness absorbed me with its cold arms.

I didn't know what to do anymore, I was lost.

But suddenly the little girl's big silent eyes appeared in front of me. An arm outstretched in my direction, she invited me to join, as bright as the sun. When my fingers made contact with her skin, the scenery changed completely, making my head spin at breakneck speed.

The movements finally calmed down. I immediately recognized the Crystal Room, but it wasn’t the one I knew now.

Several people with unfamiliar faces stood in front of me. With serious faces, they were discussing without seeming to notice my presence.

- He will be the one we send there.

- A Guard Chief, when the situation is totally out of control there ?!

- He's far too young !

- Bring him in, cut in the man who seemed to be the decision-maker here.

A shiver ran through my back as the door opened wide, letting slow, sure footsteps echo through the room. When the young man in question passes close to me, brushing my right arm in the process, a sharp sensation marked my skin under my sleeve. He seemed to feel it too, for the expression on his face changed for a brief moment, almost flustered. His gaze caressed mine without actually seeing me.

- Lance, we were expecting you.

Continuing on his way, a confident smile widened the full lips of the dragon with such youthful features.

- Please excuse me for being late, Master Kaze.

Completely caught up with what was happening in front of my eyes, I was surprised to find the young girl's little fingers wrapped around my forearm. When I turned my head in her direction, the world shifted once again.

A companion collapsed at my feet, spurting blood against my legs. A violent gag took hold of me when its organs fell from the gaping wound that sawed through its stomach. Horrified, I backed up several meters when my attention was signaled by a huge dragon crashing into the rocks not far from me, all with a thudding noise. In a last rattle that comes back to my stomach, the creature collapses to the ground before taking on a semi-human form. Tears flooded my cheeks as I rushed over to him.

- LANCE !

My voice creaked, broke in my throat. I could only see the red puddle that gradually spread around his neck like a macabre web when my vision changed once again.

I was sitting on a bed in a windowless room. Beside me, a small gas light glowing faintly in the dark. Looking down, I noticed I was perfectly dry. No more blood stained my clothes.

- So if I understood correctly, you want to help me break this damn Crystal ?

A harsh laugh shook the broad shoulders of the young man as his interlocutor didn’t move a millimeter, perfectly stoic.

- You understood me very well, Ashkore. Do you want to make this deal, yes or no ?

Lance's gaze shone with a gleam that made my blood run cold. A carnivorous smile crossed his crazy-looking face.

- Very well, my dear deamon. But don't think you'll get me right.

The light suddenly went out, revealing once again the bluish color of the great Crystal.

Serenity reigned in the room. This time, no sound comes to disturb the religious calm of this atmosphere. A movement at the back of the room made me turn around anyway, revealing Lance once again.

Alone, casually assisting on the floor, his gaze didn’t seem to want to leave the luminescent jewel.

His eyes had never been so dark.

- That was the last time he was here, until you woke up.

I jumped at the sound of the small voice behind my back. The young girl stands there, motionless. I hesitated for a moment.

- Ophelia... where are we ? I questioned weakly, having her decide to disappear again.

Her expressionless gaze was lost for a moment in the void behind me. I thought she wouldn't answer me.

- In the deepest memories of the last of the dragons.

- But why ? What are we doing here ?

Walling herself in silence, she walked straight ahead until she crossed my body and passed to the other side.

- You have to find the answer for yourself, Andraste.

The recommended image to blur around me. No, not now, I had to catch up with her !

- Ophelia !

Abruptly opening my eyes, I woke up sweating in my bed, breathing heavily from my parted lips.

I was dumbfounded when I realized that tiny ice crystals were forming under my astonished gaze.

Damn, what happened to me ?

(Chapter 17)

[heavenlysageee]

A Seed That Blossoms

fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen/Gojou

pairing: Gojou x Reader 

word count: 2049 words

a/n: this is based on the blackout scene from In The Heights that’s been going around on tiktok! it’s a bit of a drabble w/ some fluff - please enjoy mwah!

»» — —  —   —  ♡— — — — ««  ♡  »»— — — —  —  — ♡ — — —  — ««

You and Gojo have had this unspoken tension between you for a while now. Despite your adamant denial time and time again to Nobara and Yuuji, there’s a small part of you that wonders what would happen if you indulge him just a little bit. This small seed grew into a larger impulse you couldn’t deny any longer and decided to give him a chance. Just one night, with no strings attached.

You peer over at the sun as the pink sunset dances across your empty classroom at Tokyo Jujutsu High. The day was ending and you were lucky to be just about finished with your duties when you felt a pair of familiar eyes drill themselves into the back of your head. Without even turning around you said, “Are you gonna say hi or you just gonna stand there and block my doorway?”

He walks over with a smirk plastered across his face before leaning against one of the desks. “Well, hello to you too, sunshine.” 

You roll your eyes at the usual stupid lines he would throw your way. On a normal day, you would let these slide because you weren’t all that interested. But that seed blossomed, took root, and is still demanding to be nourished. You took a pause and looked up at him from your desk. He was readily waiting for your snippy quip to his advances toward you.

 You knew him for a player, the type of guy who thinks more with the thing between his legs. But you ignored the warning signs flashing in your mind when you flash him a small smile and ask him out. 

“What are you doing for the rest of the night, Satoru?” 

His eyes seemed to flash a bit of confusion at the strange turn of dynamic. You were rarely interested at anything he had to say, let alone ever entertaining his stupid pick-up lines. He bit the bait anyways. “Hoping it would be you, but I’d like to hear what you have in mind.”

You chuckled softly and replied, “Maybe if you’re lucky. Let’s see if you’re as invincible as you claim to be. Meet me at my place tonight at 8:30 and we’ll go dancing at the spring festival. Don’t make me regret giving you a chance.” 

You walk away leaving the most powerful sorcerer feeling a bit confused but excited for the new possible endeavor. 

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you fix your hair and check that you have everything you need for the night. Cellphone, check. Wallet, check. Keys, Check. Glancing at your phone, you notice a text from Gojo indicating that he was outside. He’s leaning against the hood of his car, wearing a white button up with a few buttons open, tucked into dress pants that fit him all in the right places, and his signature rectangular resting low on his nose bridge. 

You think to yourself, well, crap, he does clean up nice. Guess the people he hooks up with aren’t as blind as I thought they were.

He immediately scans your figure and smiles, “Wow, well, aren’t you a sight to see. Hope the night works in my favor and I’ll be touching you too.” 

You felt your blood rush to your cheeks as you smooth out your outfit to regain your senses. You walked toward the passenger side door and slid into the leather seat. The entire car smelled of his cologne. The engine revs and you both ride off to the party. The city lights a kaleidoscope across the dashboard and onto his side profile. You keep adjusting in your seat to distract yourself from the knot building in your abdomen. You knock it up to general nerves from a new environment and try to release the excess energy by fidgeting every so often. You feel a large, calloused hand on your knee and freeze. 

Gojo glances over with slight concern, “You good? You’ve never been on a date with someone as hot as me?” His usual banter calms you down and reminds you that it’s just Satoru, you’ve known him for a while and this shouldn’t change much. It’s just a night of dancing. You feel the car slow down and pull into the lot. Gojo opens the passenger door and leads you by the arm into the plaza. You’re greeted by the glow of lanterns strung through the outdoor plaza, the smell of various cocktails and food wafting through the air, the pounding of the bass echoes in your ears and can be felt in your feet, sending rivers of your nerves into excitement. 

He pulls you to the bar and buys you both drinks to start the night out. He turns toward you with his sky blue eyes, drink in one hand and leaning his cheek on the other. “So, what was the turning point? What made you give somebody SO detestable a chance darling?”

The pet name sends a rush of blood through you and you ask for another drink to counteract the feeling. You turn and meet his eyes once more, “You know, I’m just gonna outright say it.  Although you can be detestable, you always flirt with me and I wanted to see if you got more than just a pretty face.” You throw a few more shots back and feel the former butterflies slip away, just enough to gather the courage to enjoy the party. 

While he watches you transform into someone far more outgoing from the liquid courage slipping past your lips, his eyes stare longer at them. Even if he hasn’t outright admitted it, you were the constant in his life that gave him a sense of normalcy. No matter how many people he wakes up next to in the morning, he always wondered what it would be like to wake up next to you or learn about you beyond the boundaries of banter and curses. As arrogant as he can be, the one thing he doesn’t want to sacrifice is the dynamic you have going on with him. He wouldn’t let his feelings ruin that if you didn’t want it to. This is a chance that can bring your relationship with him to a new level - one step forward or ten steps back. 

Before he could get a word in, another person offered to dance with you. You glance over at Gojo knowingly ready to reject them if he just said the word. But he didn’t. He nods, gesturing for you to continue, and you try to hide the slight disappointment behind your eyes. You wonder if it was worth inviting him out at all without even knowing if he wanted to go on a date with you. He could’ve just been flirting with you for shits and giggles. 

Gojo watches with a clenched jaw as you bounce from one person’s arms to the next. Time passes and you glance every so often to see what he was doing, wondering why he hasn’t pulled you and asked you to dance yet. Your hope for him to make a move dwindles and you feel it wither as each second passes. You feel your eyes drill into him as another person approaches him and grazes their hand across his, leaning into his ear to whisper something. He laughs. The loud music, the breaths of the stranger on your neck mixed with the smell of alcohol fills your nose but nothing defeats the angry drumming of your heartbeat in your ears.

You should’ve known he wasn’t here for you. You walk over with the firm resolve to nip this feeling before it grows even deeper roots and hurts you more. “I was just another score huh? You abandoned me. Gojo, you barely even danced with me.” 

His face distorts into irritation as he feels the pent up frustration bubble over, “Don’t make me laugh, I’ve been trying all night. You been shaking your ass for like half of the town.” 

It’s as if the whole room deadened to a halt as he spits out the words, placing the blame on you. Every one of your senses grow overwhelmed and all you can taste on your tongue is absolute bitterness. He never saw the way you longingly looked at him, all it took was a word and he never spoke up. That was his decision and it isn’t your fault. You retort, “Trying? You didn’t even approach me on the dance floor. I felt everyone’s hands on my waist except the one pair I was hoping would. Instead you were busy swapping spit with what seems like anyone that was willing to.” 

Shame continues to flood Gojo and pushes him into an inexplicable frustration, the flood gates opened at this point and wouldn’t stop. “That’s all you expect from me and never see me as anything other than a wandering, empty shell of a man into different people’s beds right? So why should I try to prove myself as anything other than that? I can have a normal conversation with somebody but to you it looks like I’m working for my next bed frame.”

Offense bubbles in your chest as you feel your voice begin to shake, “Why would I expect anything different when that’s all you’ve ever shown me tonight. I gave you a chance and you did what you usually do. With somebody else, again. And don’t ever shame me for dancing with other people, you don’t own me Goj-”

Before you can finish, you feel his hand squish your cheeks, preventing you from speaking. “You know that’s not my name sweetheart. I don’t want to hear you call me by anything other than my first name. You’ll never be distant enough from me that I’ll allow you to call me that.” Your eyes meet his and pull his hand away from your face as he seems to tower over you this time.

You stare at each other for what seemed like forever as a mix of shock and sentiment swirl in your mind, “Forget it Satoru. Good thing we established that we wouldn’t ever work. I’m just gonna find my own way home, you don’t have to worry about me. Have fun.” 

He grabs your wrist, “Give me a chance again. Please.” You try to rip your hand out of his grip but it was impossible. Tears sting and threaten to spill from your eyes as you look back and expect a smug look of victory. Instead you were met with a gaze that spelled absolute defeat. Your expression softened slightly and sighed, giving him a nod. He pulls you away from the crowd back through the exit only lit by the obnoxiously red neon sign above the two of you. 

His thumb gently swipes across your cheek urging you to look up at him. His voice softly responds, “You were doing your own thing and I wanted to try and distract myself from what I was feeling.” His hand moves from your face and he runs it through his hair trying to find the words. You reach for his hand and cradle it in your own, “What feeling Satoru?”

He slips his hand away and decides it’s time to come clean, “I was afraid that if I made a move you didn’t like, it would push you away. I don’t really care for a lot of people, but I do for you and I didn’t want to deal with losing a best friend. I’ve dealt with that shit before and I don’t want to make the same mistakes again.” 

Your heartbeat finally stills and you feel the stupid seed blossom again, leaving you in a feeling of vulnerability. “Are you trying to pull the sap card to get into my pants or are you being real right now?” He smiles exasperatedly and replies, “I’m being really genuine right now. If I JUST wanted to get into your pants, I would’ve done it FOREVER ago.” 

You gesture him to come closer to your face, he obliges and leans into you about a breath away from your nose. You fill the space between you both and press a gentle kiss to his lips with a small smile. “Hm, guess that makes two of us.”  

[januarywren]

Hello I hope you don’t mind but can you please write a snamione domestic fluff where they have triplets? Love your stories a lot. ❤️❤️

Done!

I expanded the Severus/Hermione story that I posted last week, ‘Without Her,’ that focused on them falling in love after the war. 

I’ll post the second chapter down below, I hope that you enjoy it! ‘Without Her’ is more hurt/comfort than fluff, but I thought your request fit well with the story. Thank you for trusting me with your idea!

He blinked once.

Twice.

And again, as he realized what his witch meant.

Children...

He’d never imagined they were a possibility, let alone something he wished for. “Truly?” Severus asked, tautly swallowing. He could never imagine her being so cruel, yet he felt uncertainty creep beneath his skin still.

Memories of the Marauders haunted him still, with childish jeers ringing in his ears. There were the bitter remnants of his father too, every cruel word and look one that Severus couldn’t forget. His cheek ticked, a gesture that he had never learned to control.

“Would I lie to you, Severus?” Hermione asked, her lips curling upward into a knowing smile. She'd suspected her pregnant state for weeks before visiting a muggle doctor in London and had waited for just the right moment to tell her lover...they would not have one child but three.

Three!

It was more than Hermione had ever considered, given how she was an only child. Severus was the same raised without any siblings and neither of them had ever wished for one. Was it natural then, that she’d only imagined them having one? Or none, given how their nights were spent enamored with one another.

Hermione had tucked the sonogram into her battered copy of Hogwarts: A History, one of the few surviving mementos from her childhood. She had wondered at surprising Severus, perhaps with a balloon or stuffed teddy bear, but decided against the idea. She knew that he valued her words more than her actions, for she was one of the few who meant them. So she whispered the news to him, as she lay reading and he rested his head in her lap, as the world outside their door was bathed in thunder and bitter downpour.

“You’re the only one who never would,” he admitted, swallowing tautly. He was on his knees before her, his head resting in her lap, yet he felt as if he were her equal.

Perhaps he was.

“Never,” she echoed, before threading her fingers through his dark hair. He hummed in pleasure as she wound locks around her fingers, before letting them free, once more.

Time had no meaning then, the grandfather clock that stood in the corner of their room not making a sound. Even Crookshanks was quiet as he curled in his woven basket, with his tail covering his nose.

The rest of their home was a buzz of quiet activity, as they’d found themselves welcoming a handful of House-Elves that had lost their families during the War. They tended to the small flat, the same as they would a sprawling manor, though they never disturbed the couple’s bedroom.

(Only Crookshanks held that honor, to the House-Elves displeasure.)

A flat full of books and abandoned House-Elves and a stubborn familiar was nothing like the future that Severus had imagined. As a child, he'd dreamed of little more than escaping his father, soon pinning his dreams on Lily Evans. He was blinded by obsession as he spent years at Hogwarts, everything he did meant to hold Lily's attention.

The obsession had followed him as he became an embittered man, one that hadn’t lived until he found his way to the woman he served then. Hermione held his very heart in her small hands, an arrangement that he had no wish to deviate from.

He found his belonging with Hermione, the only woman whose shadow he would remain in. His relationship with her was nothing like he’d expected, instead, being everything, he needed. He found it was natural for him to obey, as it was far from her way to force him to give a piece of himself away. She wanted him, and only him, without forcing him to perfect a game of charades.

It was a lesson that Riddle had never learned, nor Dumbledore, for all of his sugar-coated words and knowing gaze. There was no falsity with Hermione, only praise.

And when they did row, it was followed with scenes of passionate devotion, as Severus worshipped between her legs. His greed for her was unrestrained, as he delved his tongue into her dripping cunt, and he made her scream his name. It made him feel alive in a thousand different ways, and he made a strangled sound of amusement, as he realized their last session had led to his witch’s current state.

They had argued for days about her interest in visiting a certain dragon sanctuary in Romania, with Severus dead set against her going. The security risks kept him awake at night, as he knew the goblins had never forgotten the release of their former dragon and their desire for another one. Who was to say they wouldn't try to take another one?

Hermione had only so much influence with them, and Severus doubted she could keep them from coveting another dragon. Greed was as natural as breathing to the goblins, perhaps, even more so. There was little right or wrong to the goblins, their views far from black and white.

Hermione had adamantly refused to listen until she refused the invite at the last possible moment, after which they ignored each other for days – until Severus had awoken his witch with slow, lingering kisses and touches that swept her hurt feelings away. He took no delight in hurting her, content with how she clung to him, his touch leaving love marks behind.

Neither had given thought to cast a preventative spell then, their preferred method of birth control in place of the potion, or muggle birth control. They had never discussed having children, though Severus knew his witch wasn't averse to the idea. Hermione's sudden friendship with the goblins wasn't entirely a secret, as Luna and Neville maintained a relationship with them as well. They were friends of Hermione's more than Harry or Ron were, and she was delighted when they announced their pregnancy.

He’d never forgotten her soft, joyful expression when she was named godmother to Luna and Neville’s daughter, Aurora; the sight taking his breath away, for reasons that he never imagined he would voice, let alone consider.

The horror of his childhood kept him from imagining a family with anyone, even Lily. His family line would die with him, as he had no wish to see a child with his father’s features, nor his hooked nose. Yet, he’d found himself enjoying the time they spent with Aurora, as he often listened to Hermione read aloud to her, and Crookshanks. It was a warm, childish scene, the likes of which had never existed in his childhood.

If he were a lesser man, he would deny his envy, one that had long ago rooted into his soul. His childhood was filled with nothing he wished to look back at, nor repeat with his children. There was only coldness there, one that stung his cheeks and tore at his soul; making him recoil from thoughts about turning into his father, or allowing abuse to occur, as his mother had. His children would never know the mistakes of his parents, grandparents they would never meet, nor know of.

Severus was silent as his hand found Hermione’s, his fingers gently squeezing hers. He said nothing about her parents, away in Australia with no memory of their only child. They all had to make sacrifices during the war, yet Severus loathed that he couldn’t make the matter right for her.

All he could do – all they could do – was ensure that her parents had a plentiful bank account and a small condo that was thoroughly warded against any magical visitor. Her parents remembered nothing of their old lives, and the world they had known. Hermione kept two things from them: a suit jacket that belonged to her father, with a missing button and a tear in the collar and her mother’s china tea set.

There was nothing more that she needed, his witch said, and that was the end of the matter.

“We’re going to be parents,” Hermione whispered, her voice cracking at the end. It seemed utterly real then, though she had yet to physically show. It was only when she missed her course that she thought to see the doctor, along with how sensitive she’d become, “Can you imagine, love?”

“I’m afraid so,” Severus replied, a hint of dry humor tangled around each and every word.

He could easily imagine her with a child on her hip, the picture too vivid and bright. It was one that men like him were never supposed to grasp – he was meant to be alone, and embittered with redemption held away from his hands.

Yet still, he wanted it, more so than anything before. He wanted her.

He wanted a future with his witch and their children, with books and half-kneazles forever underfoot.  

[auty-ren]

The Offer: Chapter 2

Touches

Pairing: ClanLeader!Mando x fem. Reader

Rating: T (Mature for future chapters)

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Injury, Touching, Insinuations of sex, Cursing (just a tiny bit), Fluff, Yearning (a lot).

A/N: I’m having so much fun writing this. Please let me know what you think! Comments and feedback appreciated always. It’s also on AO3. Hope y’all enjoy💕

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

Mandalorian lore via mandoa.org (I dont own it)

ClanLeader!Au created by @magichandthing​​

Gif by @coredrive​

Summary: You finally get to speak to Clan Leader Djarin again.

Your nose was definitely broken.

The elder assessed that much on her initial exam of your face. 

The bile in your stomach churned and nausea flooded your senses at the thought of having to reset the broken cartilage. You knew they would have to realign your nose otherwise it would never grow back properly. However, your stubbornness took hold and you wouldn’t let the elder anywhere near your face. You knew the pain that was eventually going to happen, but you dreaded the process. You wanted to postpone it for as long as you could. You tried to rationalize other options, internally debating and trying to come up with excuses for Mira and the Elder. Maybe if it was left alone, your nose would heal just fine; it seemed like a probable outcome you just hoped Mira would see it that way and leave you be.

Mira, of course, had different plans.

It took Mira straddling you, completely immobile due to her weight pressing into your chest, and the strength she held your arms with for the Elder woman to be able to fix your nose from its dislocated position. When she finally did, you're sure your scream reverberated off the walls.

“We underestimated your strength ad’ika.” The woman joked after giving a final dose of a bacta shot. Your eyes were still watering and you just huffed in response, causing Mira to chuckle from across the room.

Mira’s company started to grow on you, even though at first your time together was filled with silence. She often busied herself around the hut; shining her armor, cleaning her assortment of weapons, tinkering with different pieces of mechanics that littered the shelves. You would offer to help and she accepted, reluctantly at first, but you were starting to think she enjoyed your company as much as you did hers.

Most of the conversation was you asking questions about Mira and her people. You had some knowledge of the ways of a Mandalorian but Mira always explained it better. She always answered you with a sense of patience, explaining everything to you in detail you could understand. You appreciated it, the last thing you would want to do is offend her people with ignorance. She seemed to enjoy your enthusiasm for learning about Mandalorian culture.

“Ba'jur bal beskar'gam, Ara'nov, aliit, Mando' a bal Mand'alor, An vencuyan mhi.”

“What?”

“It is a rhyme taught to children, so they can better understand our way of life.” She put down the tool she was cleaning her armor with, handing you the piece to polish. Before you could even ask, she recited the same phrase to you in basic.

“Education and armor, Self-defense, our tribe, Our language, and our leader, All help us survive.”

Days bled into weeks and you started to lose count of how long you had been with Mira. Your injuries had healed fully thanks to Mira and the elder that visited you. Light remains of your still healing bruises were all the evidence of the encounter. As you felt better, Mira invited you to accompany her into the village. It had almost become pleasant, the little routine you two had. The fresh air always felt nice, and Mira filled the time telling you more stories of her clan.

“That man,” you paused, debating whether or not you should even bring up the topic. “The one who I met when we first arrived, who was he?”

Ever since then you found yourself wondering about him more than you liked to admit. He and Mira had been the first people to treat you with kindness in a long time, so you figured the reaction to him was just grateful. Your curious nature made it almost impossible to not want to know more. You had learned much about Mira the last few weeks, and the persistent thoughts of him would certainly cease at knowing more of him. At least that's what you told yourself, but it was hard to forget that blooming you felt in your chest when he first spoke to you. How the deep timbre of his voice felt like honey that settled in your bones. You caught yourself daydreaming how his voice would sound without the mask of his voice coder, just as rich and deep but something new and soft against your ears. It probably felt heavenly to hear him whisper things to you, his breath gentle in your ear.

Mira turned to you and watched as you waited for an answer. It was as if Mira could read your thoughts from the way her head tilted to look at you. You were thankful she didn't pry, that was a conversation you didn't want to have.

“He is the strongest and conscientious of us all, which is why the High Elders chose him to lead and defend our clan. Each of the pendants he wears is a testament to his fortitude.”

You listened intently, hanging on to every word Mira spoke.

“They say he received his signent by hunting a Mudhorn that terrorized the village and killing the beast with a viro-blade as his only weapon.”

“Oh,” was all you could say, your voice just a whisper in the silence left behind her words. As much as you will yourself to be satisfied with this information, it only seemed to stoke the fire that had been set ablaze by him. You wanted to know so much more, the desire to be around him was something you tried hard to ignore.

—

Much to Mira’s protest you mostly stayed to yourself, already feeling so out of place. Aside from her, the elder, and the brief encounter with the clan leader Djarin you hadn’t spoken to anyone else since being here. She tried all she could to get you to attend their weekly dinner, a celebration every clan member attended, she insisted. You eventually caved to her persistence. So you sat with her at one of the long wooden tables, chipping away at the plate full of food in front of you. Every so often you stopped to pull at a loose thread in your sleeve, somehow hoping the action would ease the anxiousness you felt.

The clan had given you new clothes shortly after settling with Mira. She presented the garments to you one night, explaining that the leaders agreed you would feel more comfortable in them. A simple, deep red, long sleeve tunic, and a long brown skirt that flowed around the movement of your legs. It was similar to the attire you’d seen some of the women in the village wearing.  It felt unusual at first, you were so used to wearing the same few articles, almost threadbare in places from the years of consistent wear. These clothes seemed almost new, soft to the touch, and fit your body perfectly. The gesture nearly brought tears to your eyes, no one had given you such a thoughtful gift since you were a child.

It was so refreshing to see that not all the hope had been purged from the galaxy. Mira's people were just as legend had described them, fierce warriors with integrity and strength that rivaled entire battalions of soldiers; but there was also love and kinship that was deeply rooted in pillars of their society. It seemed almost surreal, this warrior race had taken you in; had healed and cared for you. It was something you had to witness first-hand, no amount of stories could convey the community the Mandalorians had, at least no one would believe you if you had tried.

You opted to observe the events of dinner, not wanting to cause any more trouble than you felt you had already. Mira had not lied when she said everyone would be there. The tables were filled with people laughing and enjoying the company of each other. It felt so peaceful, and the unsettling feeling in your stomach subsided as the dinner went on. The evening eventually started winding down when dusk had settled over the village. You thought it would be rude to leave without Mira, so you waited patiently on the sidelines wanting to return to the hut.

“How are you feeling?”

Din leaned his shoulder against the wall behind you, his arms crossed and his head tilted to the side. You jumped, you hadn't even heard him coming towards you. He seemed amused at your reaction, letting out a huff that slightly jolted his shoulders.

“I’m fine,” You felt that same pull start in your chest. “Mira has taken very good care of me.”

“Good.”

He became silent, watching the clan mingle like you were. This was exactly what you had been hoping for, to be alone, to be able to talk with him, and ask all the things you had been pondering since your initial meeting. But now you felt so small, every word you had readied was lost on your tongue, swallowed by the intimidation you felt. He was the noblest warrior of his clan, strong and authoritative in his ways but he made your heart flutter in a way you didn't know could. It was suffocating, being around him but you craved it nonetheless.

He moved to sit next to you, straddling the bench you sat on. You could feel him looking at you, but you didn't dare tear your gaze from in front of you. You felt your face flush all the way to the tips of your ears. He hadn’t said five words to you and you were already a mess.

“I should find Mira,” you broke the tension, hoping to escape so you could finally breathe again. “It's late.”

Before you could distance yourself he spoke, halting you in your tracks.

“I can return you to your hut,” he paused pushing himself to stand. He considered you for a moment as if to debate his next words.

“If that's what you wish.”

—

“I haven’t seen you since your arrival.” It wasn't really a question, more of an observation. You turned to look at his helmet, still trained on the path in front of you.

“Mira forced me to break my isolation.”

A huffed laugh came through his helmet, effectively melting some of the tension that had built up. Your own smile stretched across your lips, he still made you incredibly nervous but he at least had a sense of humor.

You didn't exchange any more words, silence falling back over you both. It felt just a little different than before, the tension wasn't drawn so tight. A light airy feeling replaced the energy that flows between the two of you. You could feel your muscles relaxing just the slightest bit, the bubbling worry in your stomach replaced with a dull ache.

Your senses focused back on your surroundings, cool darkness had enveloped your path, lit only by the torches mounted against the huts. People still congregated in the street, groups exchanging wishes of sweet dreams as most of them prepared for sleep. As you passed, side by side with their leader, each person stopped to give a small bow. Some of their gazes lingered on you, not in a judgemental way, most of them just seemed curious in nature. It was probably odd, seeing some strange woman being escorted by the most respected man in their village. If he noticed their looks, he didn't make it known.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a small flash of bright color, sticking out noticeably against the neutral tones of the earth. You stopped and tucked in between two of the homes lining your path home, was a small flower bed. Some of the buds had yet to bloom, the new petals poking through the green shell that encased them. Others were full and brilliant, ranging from every color under the sun. You kneeled down to gently caress the buds in the palm of your hand.

Din didn’t realize you had stopped at first. He noticed the absence of your footsteps and turned around, watching you admire the flowers. He walked closer to you, essentially blanketing you in his shadow. Like before, you failed to notice his presence behind you.

“Sorry,” you apologized once you realized he was waiting for you. Standing up and brushing the dirt from your knees. You awkwardly clasped your hands together in front of you, waiting for him to respond. He stood still, completely static and it felt like a standoff of who would move next. You thought of saying something, anything to get him to act again but before you could he cut you off.

“You like…” He seemed to carefully consider his next words, in some ways it almost seemed meek the way the syllables rolled off his tongue. “Flowers?”

You turned your head to glance at the bed behind you. Realizing now how odd you must've looked, stopping to smell flowers like some child. You looked forward and he had yet to move still staring directly at you, at least that's what you assumed it was hard to tell with his visor.

“Yes, um…” Your mouth felt dry and tightened around your words. You know he didn't ask for an explanation but you gave one nonetheless, trying to ease your embarrassment.

“My mother used to have flowers on my home planet,” You turned your face down to your hands, rubbing your thumb at the juncture of two of your fingers. “I haven't seen any since the day I left...”

It had been a long time since you had thought of your old life. Ever since the war it had become painful to even entertain the good memories. Your parents had become ghosts of what they once were.  Their faces were just flashes in your mind, reduced to the few reminders that stuck with you. The smells of cedar and earth reminded you of your father, his clothes always permeated with the smell of the outdoors. Sometimes you could recall how kind his eyes were, seeing a glimpse of them in your dreams. You remembered your mother’s flowers, how they grew during the warm season filling beds of green with vivid, swirling color.

“I didn’t realize they still grew.” You tried your best to keep the emotions these memories held from finding your face, but Din sensed them nonetheless. He hesitated for a moment before gesturing for you to follow him again.

—

“Thank you, for walking with me,” you said turning to him with a small smile on your face as the hut came into your view.

“Of course.” He stopped just a few feet away from you, turning to mimic your position.

“Goodnight,” you said, turning and walking up the few steps of the porch to Mira’s home.

“You never told me your name,” he said, causing you to stop just in front of the door, you turned back to face him.

You told him, giving a slight smile at the end of your words. He parroted your name, climbing up the stairs becoming level with you again. He moved closer to your body, leaving just a few inches between your chests. You looked up into his visor, your reflection more noticeable with the close proximity of your bodies.

He repeated your name, his hands going for one of the necklaces resting against his chest. He lifted it away from him, bringing the necklace around your neck, the cool metal of the pendant resting just above your breasts. You looked between him and the mythosaur skull, the same one you saw plastered on nearly everything in the village. You wanted to say something, your mouth opening, and closing while trying to focus long enough to string a few words together.

“You’re so beautiful.” He leaned his arm against the door behind you, pinning you between him and the wood of Mira’s hut. His other hand came up to trace along the length of your neck, his knuckles stopping when they reached your chin.

You felt like you were on fire, your blood running white-hot under your skin, leaving a blushed tint in its wake. You didn’t dare look up at him, afraid you’d melt under his gaze that seemed to bore straight through you. You kept your eyes fixated on the expansion of chest level with your eyes.

“Have you thought about staying?” His fingers gripped your chin, bringing you to look directly at his visor.

“Stay?” You were a little taken back, your voice coming out as a squeak compared to his. “Here?”

“Yes, here.” He chuckled, his voice dropped mocking the whisper in your tone. A smile threatens the corners of your lips and you bite on the inside of your cheek to stop the spread. He thought it was entertaining, watching you become giddy under his attention. You turned to look just past his shoulder, willing the flush you felt on your face and neck to subside. You had wanted his attention and now you had it but you were failing miserably at being anything but at his mercy.

“Do you like it here?” He said sensing your hesitation, forcing you to focus on him again.

“Yes, of course.” It was true, you enjoyed your time. But to stay? What place did you have here? They had made you feel so welcome but you were an outsider and you had yet to offer any contribution to their way of life. You had felt better than you had in years. Like a familiar version of yourself had taken over again, replenishing the life you so desperately tried to find before. It felt invigorating but you knew it couldn't last forever, and with your injuries in the final stages of healing, you knew that time was coming to an end.

“Then stay.” His voice was firm but held a sort of gentleness that made your heart flip in your ribcage.

He grabbed your hand, leading your palm to rest in the middle of his chest. Your fingers instinctively spread over the warmth of his skin, he interlocked his fingers with yours, effectively trapping your hand behind his.

You couldn’t see his face, but it felt as if you were staring right into his soul. You imagined the depth and piercing look of his eyes. You imagined they were just like the rest of him, fierce and intriguing but with a softness hid behind them. Mesmerizing you and making you want nothing more than to fall deep in their hypnosis. You wanted to kiss him, to feel him against you, flesh and bone to be explored by your fingertips. You wanted to be encased totally by him, to drown in the warmth he exuded, to feel nothing but him for the rest of your days.

With a newfound boldness, you slipped your hand away from his slowly trailing down the center of his chest. The pads of your fingers moved over the toned muscle of his chest, doing exactly what you had daydreamed about since you met him. His skin was a beautiful tanned color with scars scattered, telling the story of his battles. You traced a few, fingers delicately moving across the raised skin. You felt his breath released from behind his helmet, so quiet you may have not noticed if it weren't for the rise and fall of his chest. You continued your movements, traveling down until you met the trail of hair that peeked out from his trousers. He abruptly grabbed your wrist, a groan filtering through to your ears. His grip was firm, stopping your actions but being careful not to hurt you.

“You should get some rest.” His voice was so low, gravelly, barely registering with the voice coder of his helmet. He released his grip, moving your hand back to your side.

You were afraid you had fucked up, misreading him and crossing some forbidden line. Shame flooded your mind, causing your gaze to drift to your feet. He reached up to your face, pushing the hair that fell in your face back, revealing the timid look that fell on your features. He held his palm against your face for just a moment longer than necessary. As his hand fell from your face, you were back to staring into the darkness of his visor, surprised by the tenderness of his actions.

“Goodnight,” He whispered, turning back to walk down the steps, leaving you stunned and missing his warmth.

“Goodnight.”

—————

Taglist: @queenofheavenandhell​​ @youmeanmybrain​ @theocatkov​ @dreamgirl-67 @duker42​ @spxcedxdddy​ @vikingqueen28​ @hdlynn​ @leo-moon​ @tiffdawg​

(Let me know if you want to be added or removed!💕)

[fabricated-misslieness]

Peter Parker x gender neutral reader with powers

Y’know I asked for a part 2 because some parts of the moodboard weren’t utilized but I actually don’t have a plan for this… just like most fics I write.

Part 2 of Stunned

Requested: Yes, by several peeps

Word Count: 2525

Warnings: swearing (probably), Ted Bundy is mentioned (just the name, not what he does, though it is sugested)

Ever since you’d met Spider-Man, showed him your identity and all, Peter has been a little more awkward than he already was around you.

Though, of course, you didn’t know how those two things corresponded with each other.

It was still a bit suspicious though. Analyzing the situation you could come up with at least 5 reasons.

That last pick up line was bad.

That last pick up line was too explicit.

You’d rubbed off on him as a little too harsh or bold for his comfort.

Something happened to him that was entirely unrelated to you.

He’d caught on with your little crush.

The last two were the most probable ones. 

That was what you told yourself, but sometimes your friends told you that the pick up lines were bad. Most of the time, you just brushed it off because a. Your friends liked to pick on you, and b. You don’t utilize overused internet lines.

Either way, the pick up line from before this whole awkward dilemma had still gotten him to blush red. He hadn’t grimaced or giggled. Then again, this was Peter Parker, the smart and somewhat shy boy that you’d managed to fluster nearly every day since the start of the year.

You decided to confront him, get to the root of the problem. Speculating was useless in this situation.

“Hey, Peter.” You tap him on the shoulder.

It surprises him, as it’s lunch time and you’d usually sit with the popular kids. 

“H-Hey.” He stutters back. Out of your peripheral view, you could see his friend scooting away from you two ‘discreetly’.

“Can we talk? Alone?” You rub the back of your neck, which makes him slightly curious. You looked nervous, which you usually wouldn’t be. At least your constant smile was still there.

As you walked out the cafeteria, Peter thought about what you’d want to talk about.

Were you finally going to ask him out? It’d already been quite the year of pick up lines and he felt anticipation build up whenever you’d approach him. It’d do both of you good, though he assumed you liked him. He wasn’t so sure about it, even if all signs pointed to yes.

Thought right now you seemed a little too nervous to be asking him out. You were always so bold, a harsh contrast from him, so he assumed when the time came, you’d be just as confident as always. Then again, he couldn’t really judge.

You could also be telling him something else. What it was, Peter didn’t know, which is why his brain was exploding with possibilities.

When you were outside the cafeteria, you made sure the halls were clear. It confused him further. What were you going to tell him that required no witnesses?

Oh god, you weren’t going to Ted Bundy him, were you?

“Peter.” You start slowly, which makes him want to bite his nails in anticipation. “Why,” You take a deep breath. “Why have you been awkward around me lately?”

Peter can feel the blood heat up his cheeks as he scrambles for an answer. “I-I uh.. I always have?”

You laugh, and god does it make him feel like he’s exploding. “Well, you’ve been more awkward than usual.”

Peter tilts his head, feigning confusion, you can’t help but think it’s adorable. He knows the answer to that question, but you don’t know it correlates to him being Spider-Man. “I have?”

You nod your head, looking off in embarrassment. It seems you’d seen things wrong. “Right, right.” You laugh at yourself. “Sorry, I’m overreacting.”

“Yeah.” Damn it Peter, that’s no way to ease your crush. “I mean, no, no, no! It’s- It’s fine!” He waves his hands around in a panic.

You laugh at his embarrassment this time. “If you say so, darling. By the way, I haven’t complimented you today have I?”

Peter shakes his head timidly.

“Oh, really? Well then, you’re really cute with a blush. I’ll see you around, Pete.”

When you leave, Peter nearly melts to a puddle just from how flustered he is. Another big factor to that nearly happening is the fact that he had to hide his secret from you.

Of course, hiding it was a given, but hiding it from somebody you have a crush on is way different than hiding it from the general public.

Before he could let himself zone out in the hall, he walked into the cafeteria, mostly to tell Ned.

You’d always thought Spider-Man was uptight. So that day with him, where you let him stay with you to rest, had changed your mind.

Maybe he was still uptight when choosing which crimes he should stop, graffiti obviously being one of the ones you think he shouldn’t prevent, but you thought his personality was uptight. You could work on it though.

“Spider-Man’s here!”

You glanced over to see all your graffiti friends, most of them being stoners as well, bolt in the direction of the exit.

You didn’t know how he got there, seeing as you had to cross some train tracks, go down an ominous hallway, then jump a fence, though he didn’t need to jump the fence.

He’d probably followed you there, but for some reason decided to stick around, pun unintended, for half an hour before revealing himself.

Before he could catch any of them, you use your powers to dash over and hold him in place.

“Thanks (y/n)!” They shout at you as they run.

“Hey, no problem dude. See you later!” The nerve of you to reply like that with Spider-Man in your hold.

Speaking of which, the spider groans as he watches them leave. Even with his enhanced strength, he couldn’t get out of your grip. Maybe that was another part of your powers.

You only let go of him when they were all out of sight.

Spider-Man figured he could catch up to them, but it was useless. You were there to catch him, and you could even knock him out like last time. Although, last time was an accident, as you’d assured, he couldn’t trust you.

He groans and faces you, not expecting to be faced with your smirk.

“Come back for another kiss, Spidey?” You tease, leaning against the graffitied walls of the restricted area.

“Okay, this time, you broke an entry!”

You laugh at how pissed off he seemed. “I thought it was breaking and entering.” You joke.

He seems taken aback. “I--” He huffs out in frustration. “Alright, so what? You broke the law, you pay the price.”

“Spider-Man.” You tilt your head and give him an all-knowing look. “You’re a superhero. Don’t you got any other crimes to bust? Besides,” You shake your spray paint can. “What’s stopping me from running?”

Spider-Man groans with his head in his hands. You were really getting on his nerves.

He thinks of a plan for a few minutes. He could web onto you when you ran, but even if you didn’t break the webbing, it would turn into a wild goose chase.

“Your powers are overpowered.” He groans.

“It’s much worse than you think.” You mutter, thankfully he doesn’t catch it. “But imagine somebody with an insignificant power, something like tasting certain—“

He tunes the rest of your rambling out as he thinks about you, but that doesn’t mean he’s not looking at you either.

He thinks about how much he wanted that conversation today to be a confession from you. He didn’t dwell on it at the moment, but he certainly thought about it afterwards.

He was fantasizing about having a relationship with you. Hanging out on rooftops, art dates, not giving a care in the world about where you kissed... He’d done this so many times before it’s as if he was looking back on a memory.

“Earth to Spider-Man?” You snap him out of his thoughts.

He jumps back against the wall, startled. You snicker a bit, “Didn’t mean to scare you. I was going to ask, do you wanna hang out?”

Peter furrows his eyebrows, why would you suddenly ask this? “Uh..” He tries to think of an excuse. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” You retort.

“I guess.” Peter shrugged. “But I could be one of your teachers.”

You make your way to the exit, forcing him to follow you. “Hmm, don’t think so.” You take a glance at him as if to get a look at his face and then remember he wears a mask. “You sound like a teen.”

He should really have a voice changer in his suit.

“Ey,” Spider-Man calls with a finger pointed at you.

You put your hands up in surrender, dropping the spray can to the floor with a clang. “Fine.”

“This was your hideout spot?” He asks, looking around the alleyway. It wasn’t that far from the one where you injured him, but that wasn’t the point. It looked just like any other place.

“No, it’s up there.” You reply, pointing up at the rooftop. “ Race me up?”

He lets out a small laugh, forgetting what your powers allow you to do. “What’s the prize?”

“No prize, just friendly competition.” You pause for a moment, trying to remember something. It was on the tip of your tongue. “Oh, right! Also, bragging rights.”

“Alright.” He agrees, holding out his hand. “Let’s shake on it.”

“Shake on it?” You laugh, but oblige anyway. “Okay, on the count of 3.”

After a brief countdown, which surprised him when you didn’t pull a trick on him with it, you ran up the wall and got up there first. Granted, he did the same thing, but you were faster.

“Damn.” Peter complained, earning him a smirk from you.

He didn’t linger upon the thought, though, instead he looked at you. Your legs were glowing neon red, just like the rest of the times he’d seen your powers. “See something you like?”

He snaps up to your eyes. “Who admires legs?” He tries to play it off cool.

“Plenty of people.” You walk over to the edge of the roof, which was barely preventing falling with a half wall.

You sat down on the wall, gesturing for Spider-Man to sit next to you.

“Isn’t this dangerous?” He sits down either way.

You raise an eyebrow at him, “I’ve seen you do this before.”

“You have?” He didn’t think many people looked at him often, since he was whizzing past them everyday. Well, he was sitting stationary rather than swinging.

“Mhm.” You hum a yes, swinging your legs back and forth.

You both sit in silence for a few minutes. You fiddled with the light from your glow stick while Peter was trying to decipher if the silence was awkward or comfortable.

You were thinking about who Spider-Man was, despite saying it was a bit rude the last time you and the spandex clad hero talked. You couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about it, especially when you suspected your crush of being Spider-Man. Nowadays, thinking about how cute Peter was, or how your relationship would go, would usually lead to thinking about the possibility of him being Spider-Man.

If you didn’t have a plausible reason to forget that possibility, you would never even think about confessing to Peter.

You really did, but you weren’t sure if he reciprocated your feelings. You would feel crushed if he said he didn’t like you back. You’d been crushing on him for the better half of the year and you were sure it turned into more than a small crush now.

A lot of late night thoughts were about Peter, so of course you’d already thought of the reasons why you thought he was Spider-Man and narrowed down the way to approach him and ask.

You doubted he’d tell you, but it was worth a try if it’d help you get over it.

“Hey, Peter.” You were about to correct yourself but Spider-Man interrupted.

“Who-Who’s Peter?” He tried to sound confused, but it came out as if he were playing off a bad lie. He rubs the back of his neck at his mistake.

You raise an eyebrow but continue anyway. “Spider-Man. You’re.. Peter, aren’t you?” You’d thought about this so many times yet the execution was horrible.

“Peter who?” He gulps nervously.

“Parker.” He stares at you in the eye. Your face is full of hope, and he doesn’t want to crush it by saying ‘no’. But he can’t have just anyone knowing he’s Spider-Man.

What kind of things would you do with that knowledge? You wouldn’t spread it around, he was sure of that! Was he?

What if other people knew you knew who he was? You’d be in danger of kidnappings. Then again, you had your own powers, ones that certainly felt better than his. But he didn’t know what kind of tech supervillains carry around.

He decides on saying no, despite how hard it’ll be to handle, for the both of you. He can’t help but think his decision isn’t well thought-out though.

The denial and the way he says it is enough to convince you, despite the suspicious way he acted earlier.

You let out an embarrassed laugh, fidgeting with your fingers. “Right, sorry. Bit rude of me to guess, isn’t it?”

“No.” Peter breaths out. “It’s alright, you’re curious.”

You nod, continuing to ramble in order to ease yourself. “It’s just.. you really remind me of him. He’s just,” You smile at the thought of him. “really cute. The way the both of you act is similar. I kind of like the guy, can you believe that?” You wait for a response, but he doesn’t give one. “No? He’s… perfect. I’ve been pining over him since the start of school.”

He can’t handle it anymore. Call him selfish, but hearing his crush likes him back is too much to handle. “I’m Peter Parker.” He says in a rush.

“What?” You’re startled, furrowing your eyebrows. “But you said--”

“Yeah, sorry. At the time it seemed like I shouldn’t have told you, the cons outweighed the pros but…” He knew what he had to say, but he was nervous. “I-I.. I like you too.”

You smile, standing up from the edge and pulling him with you. You move further onto the roof, at an area in the middle where not many people are likely to see you. “Prove it, then.” You were beaming with excitement.

Peter slowly slides off his mask, leaving you stunned as you look at him. “Hey, I’m Spider-Man. I’m here for more kisses.”

You laugh at the reference from earlier on that night.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I literally just asked for a kiss.”

“On the lips.”

“Oh.”

He nods and you happily give him a kiss. He responds quickly and rather sloppily, it’s a miracle how your noses don’t bump into each other from how uncoordinated he is.

“First kiss?” You ask when you pull back.

“Yeah.” Peter replies, face flushed not only from the kiss but also from the fact that you took notice of it being his first too.

“Do you need lessons?”

Congratulations, you just killed Peter Parker.

[trilliastra]

the adventures of detective wei wuxian and his husband

[Established relationship. POV outsider for the most part.]

-

1.

Jiang Cheng will never get used to seeing Lan Wangji in distress. Instead of his usual stoic expression, the man looks almost in pain himself, holding Wei Wuxian's hand tightly.

“He's an idiot.” Jiang Cheng comments, trying to hide his own worry. “He ran into the building like he's the fucking Superman.” And he saved a kid, Jiang Cheng thinks.

Lan Wangji barely looks up, already used to Jiang Cheng's own way of coping with Wei Wuxian's dangerous lifestyle. They've had many fights before as Lan Wangji often misunderstood brotherly banter with insulting.

Jiang Cheng doesn't know exactly what happened, but one day they met for dinner and Lan Wangji stopped glaring at him every time he nagged at Wei Wuxian, so he guesses they are fine now. Well, as fine as they can ever be.

“Hmn.” The other man assents, he brushes a hand over Wei Wuxian's cheek softly. “I'll lock him in the basement.” He says.

Jiang Cheng lets out a snort, surprised at Lan Wangji's attempt at a joke. “He'd find a way out.”

“Hmn.” They share a look of understanding. This is who Wei Wuxian is: impulsive, selfless, good.

“He's gonna be fine.” Jiang Cheng whispers, reaching out to take Wei Wuxian's other hand.

“Yes.” Lan Wangji takes a deep breath, rests his head against Wei Wuxian's chest. Jiang Cheng pretends not to see the tears. “He will.”

–

2.

Yang Hao rolls his eyes as Wei Wuxian laughs loudly. It should take more than just a quick brain and guts to become a detective.

It's ten past two, he hasn't slept in two days and his stomach is starting to hurt. Things would move much faster if only Wei Wuxian could get to the fucking point.

“And that's how we found they run an underground casino.” He keeps rambling, all exaggerated gestures and a lot of confidence. Yang Hao sighs – some people are so damn lucky to just stumble upon the right person at the right time.

To his left Li Qin is sighing dreamily, as Wei Wuxian keeps talking about how he is this close to solving the case if only he could have another day or two. He will get those days, Yang Hao is sure, because their boss loves him.

Thirty minutes later – or maybe two hours, he lost track of time by the time Wei Wuxian started on his brilliant plan to catch their guy – they are finally free to eat their lunch and Yang Hao all but runs away from the conference room before Wei Wuxian can catch up with him. The guy is adamant they must become friends, Yang Hao has no idea how Wei Wuxian hasn't noticed that he'd rather strangle himself before that happens.

He almost made it to his desk before his name is being called by that annoyingly happy voice. “Yang Hao!” He tries not to groan. “I forgot my lunch, do you want to go to granny’s restaurant at the corner together?” Wei Wuxian smiles, placing his hand on Yang Hao's shoulder.

“I have a date.” He lies, desperate to get the fuck away from him.

“Oh.” Wei Wuxian's smile falters for a moment, but he's soon back to his cheerful self. “That's great, man!” He pulls his hand back before shaking it in front of Yang Hao's face, the wedding ring shining in the light. “I wish I could say the same.” Wei Wuxian sighs, almost sad.

Yang Hao turns around to hide his grimace. Wei Wuxian talks, a lot, it's no secret that he's married, and happily so. It's sickening how much he talks about his partner. Yang Hao has never met her in person, but he imagines a saint of a woman to put up with all – that.

Or maybe she's just as bad as him. Yang Hao shudders.

“That's too bad.” He answers when he realizes Wei Wuxian is waiting for him to say something. “Next time, then?” He asks, just to be polite.

Wei Wuxian's smile grows and he is about to reply when Li Qin call his name. “Senior Wei! There's someone here to see you.” She gestures at a man dressed in a suit, long hair tied up. He's vaguely familiar and Yang Hao frowns, hoping this isn't related to their case. He can't put up with Wei Wuxian for another hour, especially without food.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian calls, surprised. He all but runs towards the man and when they are close enough he leans in and – kisses him. What.

“You forgot your lunch.” He can hear the other man say, holding Wei Wuxian's waist. “We are going out.” He states and Wei Wuxian all but melts against him.

Yang Hao blinks, trying to process all the information. So Wei Wuxian's partner isn't a woman. And he is a Lan. As in the Lan Clan. As in Lan Wangji, the cold, intimidating, lawyer.

“Oh, Lan Zhan.” He looks up, still confused, as Wei Wuxian praises his husband. “You're too good to me.” His voice is so saccharine, Yang Hao wants to jump off the window, but Lan Wangji only smiles, albeit shyly, and takes Wei Wuxian's hand, pulling him towards the door.

“Aren't they the cutest?” Li Qin asks, happily.

Yang Hao groans and vows to apply for a transfer as soon as he can.

–

3.

“I'll call you later, mom.” Mei Xiang stops just outside the building, puts her phone back in her purse and reaches out for the compact mirror. She checks her lipstick again and takes a deep, nervous breath. I can do it, she tells herself.

She's been preparing for this since before she got into university. She is smart, qualified, and bold, just the perfect combination for a great lawyer. She can do it.

The Lan Clan is a legend and being employed at Cloud Recesses is a dream come true. She doesn't have an office and for now she's just another assistant, but Mei Xiang knows it's just a matter of time. She's ready to work her way up. Sleepless nights? She got that covered in university. Food? Cereal bars and dried fruits are her best friends.

Mei Xiang introduces herself to her colleagues with a smile and proceeds to get acquainted with her small desk in the corner of the large room. They are all working on some big case already and her direct supervisor says they will assign her a task as soon as Lan Xichen arrives.

Her desk is close to Lan Wangji's office, she notices. The open door allows her to watch him working, scribbling furiously as he checks one book or the other, occasionally he looks up to discuss something with Luo Qingyang, one of the senior lawyers. Mei Xiang sighs, that is one handsome man.

She can see the shining ring on his left hand and shakes her head. She participated in many lectures given by either Lan Wangji or his brother, and she's always admired the way he carried himself, his unwavering belief on doing what's right.

Mei Xiang smiles sweetly when he looks up and notices her watching him. She isn't one to defend adultery, but she knows how these things work for the traditional families – marriage of convenience is still common and she doubts Lan Wangji would ever go against his family on this matter.

Mei Xiang runs a hand through her hair, watching Lan Wangji look through his books. Her parents met through work, love can happen anytime, anywhere. If it happens it happens, she thinks, delighted, when he looks up again.

“Hello, Senior Wei.” Mei Xiang hears Luo Qingyang say as she leaves Lan Wangji's office. A man dressed in casual jeans and combat boots reaches out for her hand with a smile.

“Mianmian, you look absolutely dashing. How is your baby?” He asks, enthusiastic.

Mei Xiang frowns. She doesn't recognize him, and she thought she knew everyone who worked at Cloud Recesses – she made a very thorough research.

She watches as Luo Qingyang shows him something on her phone, probably a picture of her baby, and the man coos, always smiling, as he grabs his own phone and hands it to her.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji calls, coming out of his office.

“Lan Zhan!” The man practically yells, which makes Mei Xiang startle, no one in the room looks up and she wonders if this is such an usual occurrence that they just don’t care anymore. “I was showing her that video of Sizhui playing with the rabbits!” He turns to Luo Qingyang. “Isn't he the cutest?”

“Yes,” she laughs, “after my little Mianmian.” She adds, making the other man laugh.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji stresses, holding out his hand.

“I'm coming, I'm coming.” The man laughs, waving goodbye at Luo Qingyang and taking Lan Wangji's hand as they walk together into the office. “I missed you, too.” She hears him say, leaning in to kiss Lan Wangji passionately before the doors are even fully closed.

“Damn,” she whispers, impressed.

Half an hour later, Lan Wangji's husband comes out of his office looking properly debauched, with the biggest smile she's ever seen. That doesn't look like a marriage out of convenience, so definitely, nothing is going to happen. Oh well, she thinks before straightening up her back and getting ready to conquer the world, his loss.

–

4.

After thirty years, she still loves the Monday morning rush. Since her daughter took over the kitchen, she started to love it even more.

Mei Hui loves talking to them and listening to their stories, serving good food that makes them forget about their problems for a few minutes. Over the years, she's had many regular customers, and one of her favorites is Wei Wuxian.

He's a whirlwind, loud and dangerous, but smart and genuinely kind. She's granny to him and her heart fills with joy every time he walks through the door.

He loves her lotus root soup – she long stopped taking offense when he says his sister's is better, she understands the power of love that makes any food taste like heaven – especially when a case has gone wrong. Mei Hui has spent many nights by his side as he eats the soup and cries.

Pork ribs are reserved for the amazing days – his words, not hers. Almost eight years ago, he ordered it for the first time, his grin so wide it took her breath away. It was also the first time she heard Lan Wangji's name.

Oh, those boys. She likes to think her late husband used to look at her like Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji look at each other.

She was invited to their wedding but couldn't make it due to an appendicitis – her health isn't what it used to be fifteen years ago – but Wei Wuxian showed her the pictures the next week, patting her back gently as she sniffed, deeply touched by his consideration.

But her favorite customer of all has to be the little boy. Lan Sizhui, Lan Yuan, oh, how she adores him. Mei Hui looks at the flowers and smiles as she reads the card again. It’s impossible not to love him.

Happy birthday, granny, it says, and she has to sit down to try and contain her glee. “Dad helped me write it.” Lan Sizhui had explained, earlier this morning, as he hugged her leg. Wei Wuxian was laughing, holding Lan Wangji's hand as they waited for their son. She asked if the boy wasn't going to be late for school and Wei Wuxian laughed, amused, as Lan Wangji frowned for a moment, but answered that it was fine, it was for a good cause. Oh, those boys.

Mei Hui loves Monday mornings, even more when she gets to see her favorite boys smiling, and so – so happy. As they should be.

–

5.

He is bleeding. Fuck, Lan Wangji is bleeding.

Su She watches Lan Xichen hold his suit jacket over his brother's wound and tries not to panic. This wasn't part of the plan, that – Xue Yang wasn't even supposed to have a gun! And that good-for-nothing just left in the middle of the chaos without looking back.

Xue Yang was supposed to take the papers while Su She distracted Lan Wangji, no one would get hurt, much less shot. Not that Lan Wangji didn't deserve it, the arrogant bastard, but Su She doesn't want to go to jail when he's this close to getting rich. Lan Wangji better live to watch Su She ruin everything that he owns.

“Wangji.” He hears Lan Xichen yell, shaking his brother to keep him awake. He hears someone saying help is coming and someone else says they called Lan Wangji’s husband.

Su She almost rolls his eyes as the other employees start running around like headless chickens, crying and praying for Lan Wangji's recover. Half of them hate the man just as much as Su She and the other half just want him to live so they can continue to make googly eyes at him. Pathetic.

“Lan Zhan!”

Great, this time Su She does roll his eyes as Wei Wuxian yells desperately, kneeling in front of his husband and taking his hand.

“Lan Zhan, please don't leave me.” He cries.

They are so ridiculous, flaunting their superior love story in front of everyone's faces. Every time they are around each other, it's like watching a fucking drama – nothing is ever going to be more staged than this. Well, he thinks, perhaps Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli's wedding, but Su She couldn't care less about them.

“Never –” Lan Wangji coughs just as the paramedics arrive. It takes Lan Xichen and Jiang Cheng – and when did that other fucker get here – to separate Wei Wuxian from his husband.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian's screams get more and more desperate and Su She decides it's time to leave. Any more of this disgusting shit and he's going to throw up.

–

He should've known Xue Yang was going to open his giant mouth eventually. The guy has always been a coward.

“ – you have the right to remain silent,” Wei Wuxian recites as two police officers drag Su She towards the car.

“He should've died.” He says, looking into the other man's eyes. When Wei Wuxian attacks him Su She only laughs.

–

+ 1

“It's snowing!” They get woken up by Lan Yuan jumping on their bed, laughing and screaming in delight. Lan Wangji smiles as he hears Wei Wuxian groan and burrow himself further under the covers. “Dad! Papa!”

“Yes.” Lan Wangji answers, sitting up and pulling Lan Yuan onto his lap. “Have you brushed your teeth?”

“Yes!” He quickly answers, eyes shining with glee. “And I dressed myself, see?” He opens his arms and kicks his legs in the air. He's wearing mismatched socks, Lan Wangji notices, smiling.

“So you did.” He praises, running a hand through the boy's hair. “We can play in the snow after breakfast.”

“Noooo.” Wei Wuxian whines. He got home late last night, again. “It's Saturday, we should stay in bed all day.”

Lan Yuan ignores him, turning to Lan Wangji again. “Can we make cookies too?”

“Sure.” He answers easily, dropping Lan Yuan on Wei Wuxian's back. His husband groans and their son laughs when he gets pulled into a hug.

“And hot chocolate?” Lan Yuan asks.

“One or the other.” Lan Wangji replies, heading to the bathroom.

“Cookies!” He hears his son reply in between laughter.

“Chocolate chip!” Wei Wuxian laughs with him.

By the time he comes out of the bathroom both Wei Wuxian and Lan Yuan are asleep again, holding each other and snoring softly. Lan Wangji shakes his head, amused, and walks back to the bed. He throws an arm over them and smiles, they can stay in bed longer, it's Saturday after all.

[dragonologist-in-the-making]

Way Out of His League

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Request: Hiii, could you write a James or Sirius x reader where he thinks she's way out of his league because she's so reserved but confident and smart and also kinda airy and daydreamer like Luna?? Platonic at first but then they date? Thank you🖤🖤🖤

A/N: Thank you Anon, hope you like!! Writing a Luna-esque character is pretty hard, so I tried to just take a couple of the traits and focus on those.

Wordcount: 1k

...

James Potter was not in love with Lily Evans. Yes, he pestered her for a date, and gave her constant attention, but she and all his friends knew that it was just a show, and he actually had feelings for someone else. If anyone paid attention to James Potter for a day, maybe even less, it wouldn’t be hard to tell that he was head over heels for (y/n) (y/l/n), a girl he believed to be way out of his league.

She was everything he admired. She was confident, confident enough that Sirius’ shameless flirting didn’t bother her at all, and she was quick to quip a similar comment back to him, confident enough to be championing a cause she knew was unpopular, something that she would be laughed at. She was confident in her truth, unafraid and unashamed to tell a situation how it was, uncaring if it brought about an awkward situation. She was unwaveringly friendly, giving everyone a chance to prove themselves, and being wholly forgiving to those who did laugh at her, having no patience or time in her life to hold on to resentment. These were all qualities that James admired about her, and they were qualities that the other Marauders had heard about countless times.

“She’s just so out of my league.” He sighed wistfully as his friends campaigned yet again to get him to ask her out. “I’m nothing compared to her.”

“Yeah, sure.” Sirius sighed, taking some chocolate from Remus who glared at him but didn’t do anything to stop him. “You’re nothing. You’re not Captain of a Quidditch team which is doing extremely well this season, one of the most accomplished chasers the school has seen in a while. You’re not smart, you don’t top most of your classes. You’re not a great friend, helping Moony every month. Sure, she’s great, but don’t forget who you are, Prongs.” With a reassuring pat on his shoulder, Sirius stood up, Remus and Peter beside him, James joining them to go to their next lesson.

“You’re right, maybe I’ll just talk to her.” James agreed, a new confidence thanks to Sirius’ words.

Potions passed pretty uneventfully. She was in the class too, and was brewing a potion Slughorn seemed to be very impressed with as he circled the room. At the sight of her, James could feel his confidence ebbing away again. The lesson ended, and everyone headed back towards their common rooms, it being the end of the day. The boys had gone ahead of him as he had more to pack away and didn’t want to hold them up, but as he was catching up to them he heard her voice calling his name. He froze, slowly turning around to see her almost flying to him, hair streaming behind her, either oblivious or uncaring to the stares she was being given.

“James.” She breathed, having finally reached him. Seeing as he was still rooted to the spot, she gestured for them to keep walking, and he robotically put one foot in front of the other. “I was just wondering if you could help me.” She asked, getting his full attention immediately. “I’m struggling with the theory side of potions, and I know you’ve been getting excellent marks all year, and I wanted to ask if you could help me, talk me through some of it in a way that’s easier to understand than the textbooks.” He felt elated that she was asking for his help, that she had paid attention to recognise his intelligence, and to value it enough to ask for him to share it. He immediately agreed, and she beamed at him. “Excellent! See you in the library after dinner.” As she walked away, not waiting for his response, he smiled to himself, some of his confidence creeping back in at this small sign that maybe she had been watching him too.

Dinner went quickly, and before he knew it James was in the library, where he spotted (y/n) already sitting at a table, hands running through her hair as she stared at the potions textbook in front of her.

“Hey, stop looking at that.” James spoke up as he sat in the empty seat next to her, pulling the textbook away and closing it with one hand, whilst his other reached to pull her hands out of her hair. The gesture came naturally to him, without even thinking, but once he realised what he had done he felt a shock radiate through him.

They stayed in the library, talking about potions, but letting the conversation drift fairly often to anything but, as they got to know each other a lot more. They didn’t realise how much time had passed until Madam Pince came and hurried them out, saying they were close to curfew and needed to get back to their common rooms. James returned to his dorm, thinking of the time they had next agreed to study and the time they had just spent together, a smile on his face.

These study sessions carried on for a few weeks, each time the two of them getting to know the other a little better. Another night where they were ushered out of the library and he knew that he was falling deeper and deeper, and had no choice but to do what Sirius had been trying to push him into doing all this time.

“(y/n)?” He asked, her turning to face him with an expression that wore nothing but curiosity at what he had to say. “I was just wondering if you would maybe like to go on a date with me. To Hogsmead maybe?” He rambled, tripping over his words as he felt his face on fire.

“Sure, James, I would love that.” She smiled as they began their trip back from the library. “It means I can actually focus on improving my potions work now, instead of being distracted by you.” She laughed, and he could hardly believe what he was hearing.

“I don’t know, I can be pretty distracting.” He replied cheekily, swinging an arm over her shoulders as she laughed brightly at his words.

[westallenfun]

A Most Unexpected Love, Chapter 1

WestAllen secret santa gift

From: @jade4813

For: @sophisticatedloserchick

Author Notes: For the lovely @sophisticatedloserchick from @jade4813! Merry Christmas, and I hope you like my first fic after a long hiatus!

Title: A Most Unexpected Love

Rating: PG

Synopsis: Iris has loved Eddie Thawne Allen her entire life. When she returns home just before Christmas, it looks like she might finally have a chance to catch his eye…unless an accident puts his older brother, Barry, directly in her path. Story inspired by Sabrina (with some quotes lifted more or less directly from the source material).

Chapters: 1/7

Chapter One

For almost as long as she could remember, Iris Ann West had been in love with Eddie Thawne Allen. That it was utterly hopeless was a lesson she had learned at the tender age of eleven, but since she had lost her heart to him at age six, that knowledge hardly did any good. Eddie – or Eobard, named after a great-great-great-grandfather or some such; Iris could never remember, but it was far too stodgy of a name for him anyway – was the younger son of Henry and Nora Allen, her father’s wealthy employers. So of course he was leagues above her. But that didn’t matter; her love had never been dependent upon reciprocation. For most of her life, she had been content to worship him from afar.

She would never forget the moment he had first captured her heart. They had just moved into the Allens’ home – her dad having just started his new job as the head of their security team – when the gardener’s son, Christopher, had stolen her favorite toy. Four years older (and a good foot taller) than she was, Christopher had taunted her with his prize, dangling it over her head and pulling it out of her reach in an attempt to make her cry. Iris had been about to punch him in the nose for his trouble, since her father’s lessons on self-defense extended beyond his employers – when Eddie had appeared out of nowhere. He’d retrieved her toy from her tormenter, offered the other boy a stern word of warning, and handed it back to her with a kind smile.

It was in that moment that Iris’s heart had been lost. He had swooped in from out of nowhere to save the day, and it didn’t matter that her day didn’t actually need saving. He’d been her hero nevertheless. He had been like a knight in the fairy tales her mother had read her when she was younger; all tall and blonde and perfect.

Of course, since he was the younger son of the family and she was the daughter of a member of staff, Eddie and Iris seldom interacted. He often seemed oblivious to her very existence, in fact, but that did nothing to quell her devotion to him. She was content to watch from the sidelines as he charmed children and adults alike, always shining like the brightest star in every room he occupied. She marveled at his easy manners and infectious smile, and as she grew older, she imagined what it would be like to have that smile turned upon her.

On the other hand, his brother Bartholomew – three years older than Eddie and herself – couldn’t have been more different. Where Eddie was easy-going, Bartholomew was reserved. Where Eddie approached life with a laugh and consequences with a devil-may-care attitude, his brother approached each decision with careful deliberation. And where Eddie lit up every room he entered, Bartholomew tended to remain on the sidelines. Rarely penetrating her conscious awareness, at least when Eddie was around.

Iris didn’t have any reason to dislike the elder brother. In fact, he’d always been unfailingly polite to her. One day, shortly after they’d moved in, he’d caught Iris reading in the garden and had invited her to borrow from his family’s library in a surprisingly thoughtful gesture. He had offered to teach her how to ride a horse – a proposal she’d quickly declined because horses had frightened her at that age. When she was ill, he brought by soup prepared by their chef, and she always found gifts he had chosen for her and her father under the tree at Christmas.

But all of that was to be expected, she supposed. Bartholomew (who had asked her to call him Barry years and years ago, but that seemed entirely too informal for him) was Henry and Nora’s oldest child. He would take over the family businesses in due course. He was only doing what someone in his situation would be expected to do. And so it was that Iris was content to fan the flames of her one-sided infatuation of Eddie while maintaining a polite if distance cordiality with Bartholomew. Until one fateful day when she was sixteen.

She had been walking through the woods when she somehow stepped badly, tripped over a root, and rolled her ankle on the way down. Unable to bite back her sharp cry of distress, Iris had fought back tears as she cradled the injured area, in too much pain to put weight on it so that she could return home.

Then, out of the woods, like an angel come down from Heaven, he had appeared to act as her hero once more, Bartholomew at his side. They had been strolling nearby when they’d heard her cry out and had rushed to her aid. Eddie hadn’t even hesitated before he kneeling next to her, asking if she was okay, while his brother had stood back a bit, watching her in concern. He had said nothing as Eddie verified that her ankle indeed seemed sprained, but Iris didn’t really care. Eddie was there, mere inches away, cradling her ankle in his lap and staring at her with those blue, blue eyes. Bartholomew could have been on the moon for all she’d noticed him.

Pain or no pain, she could have stayed like that all day, except that Eddie had jumped to his feet and offered to fetch her father to come help. “Oh, no, that’s not necessary,” she’d protested, aching at the all-too-brief encounter.

Meanwhile, Bartholomew had begun in his typical, reasonable tone, “We could probably—”

But Eddie wasn’t listening. “I’ll be right back!” he’d promised before turning and darting back towards home, and Iris had let out a frustrated sigh. Bartholomew had followed suit, his attention darting from Iris to his brother’s back before looking at Iris again.

She hadn’t known what he was thinking; but, then, she’s rarely thought about Bartholomew at all and had in fact almost forgotten his presence until he’d spoken again. “It may be a while for him to find your dad, and you can’t just sit out here indefinitely. Do you think you could walk a little if I helped support your weight?”

It had been (naturally, given the speaker) a perfectly reasonable solution, but Iris was unjustly irritable at him for having made it. She’d been hoping Eddie would return to sweep her into his arms and carry her back home himself. Sure, it seemed unlikely he would do so, and she certainly hadn’t twisted her ankle with any such plan in mind. But she’d thought it would have been nice. Indeed, it would have been the perfect opportunity for her to get closer to Eddie (if he’d only return without her dad in tow), and now his brother was ruining it.

She’d let out a small huff of frustration. “I guess,” she’d grumbled rather churlishly. Bartholomew had blinked a few times, seemingly taken aback by her mood, but he’d moved to crouch at her side nonetheless. Moving slowly, with almost uncharacteristic uncertainty, he had wrapped his arm around her waist and steadied her as she lumbered to her feet. When she let out a soft hiss of pain at putting weight on her injured ankle, he had shifted his hold on her so that he was carrying a greater amount of her weight on that side.

Setting her chin in a determined angle, Iris had hobbled forward several steps, feeling a little guilty about her uncharitable thoughts as she wished it was Eddie by her side. Even still, she couldn’t help but be annoyed that it was Bartholomew instead. Why hadn’t he gone for help and left his brother behind? Then things would have been perfect. Her pain would have been worth it.

She’d let out a heavy sigh of frustration, and she felt Bartholomew shift his hold on her again. “Are you okay? Do you need to take a break?”

“No, I just – ow!” she’d cried out, so distracted by thoughts of how wonderful it would be if she was spending this time with Eddie that she stepped wrong and caused a sharp stab of pain to radiate from her ankle.

He’d pulled her to a halt, holding her steady while she caught her breath and waited for the swell of pain to subside. Finally, when she was able to straighten slightly again, he’d offered tentatively, “You know…I’m really scared we’re going to make your ankle worse if we keep this up. I-if you want, I could, um, I could…carry you?”

“What? No! Don’t be ridiculous!” she’d cried automatically, even as her mind had conjured images of Eddie lifting her into his strong arms to carry her home. Her head would have rested perfectly against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Even when they returned home, he wouldn’t have put her on her feet right away, as reluctant to release her as she would be set free. He’d stare into her eyes and, in that moment, he would realize what had been in front of him all along. He’d open his mouth to finally say the words she’d been longing to hear for so long. “Iris, I—”

“Well, I think it’s going to start raining soon, and that might make everything worse,” Bartholomew had pointed out pragmatically, throwing a bucket of cold water all over her fantasy.

She’d huffed and looked around, praying she would see Eddie rushing back to her. Regrettably, he’d been nowhere in sight. She’d glowered up at the grey clouds above, her irritation growing when she realized it did indeed look like rain. Frustrated at her thwarted fantasies, she’d dropped her gaze to Bartholomew’s and snapped, “Why did you have to be you? Why couldn’t you have gone to get my dad and left Eddie behind?”

She’d felt badly about her words the moment they’d left her mouth, as Bartholomew’s head had jerked back as if she’d slapped him. She’d braced herself for him to snap at her, but he hadn’t, which somehow had made her feel worse. Instead, he’d cleared his throat and asked, “I understand if you don’t want me to – well, if you’d rather take a break and rest for a minute. I’m sure Eddie will be back soon. We can find a place for you to sit so you’re not putting weight on your ankle.”

Feeling wretched and ashamed, Iris had dropped her gaze to the ground as she mumbled, “No. I-I want to go home now. Please.”

He’d nodded, one swift, decisive, jerk of his head. Bending to loop his arm behind her knees, he’d said, “Okay. You ready? Go ahead and put your arm around my neck, and make sure you keep your weight on me. I’m going to pick you up in three…two…one.”

She’d never really thought about Bartholomew’s physical strength – other than to think it came second to Eddie’s, as all things did. So she’d been somewhat surprised to find how easily he lifted her and carried her back toward the house, his long legs eating up the distance with surprising speed. He hadn’t even sound winded as he stepped onto the gravel pathway leading to the side door that was closest to the rooms she shared with her dad. Whether she’d have been able to hear his heartbeat if she rested her head against his chest, she didn’t know, since she’d flatly refused to put her head there.

They’d remained silent the entire way back to her door, but when he’d put her gently back onto her feet, the good manners her parents had drilled into her head overcame her embarrassment. Her gaze fixed somewhere around his feet, she’d mumbled, “Thank you for helping me get home, and I’m sorry. About earlier, I mean. I was in a bad mood, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I appreciate your help. Really.”

“It’s okay,” he’d told her sheepishly. “I understand. You love Eddie.” Mortified, she’d shot a look at his face, and he’d lifted his hands in an appeasing gesture. “I’m not judging! Lots of people love my brother. He’s always been lucky like that. It’s just, I thought for once—” His voice had trailed off, and she watched as his cheeks turned red.

Though she’d suspected she should leave it alone, she hadn’t been able to help herself. “What?”

Bartholomew had sighed, his shoulders lifting and falling in an awkward shrug. “I thought you saw me.” Scowling, he’d looked away from her before mumbling, “Anyway, you should take it easy on that ankle. I’ll have my dad stop by and check on you when he gets a chance.”

“Thanks,” she’d said, but he’d merely nodded at her and walked away, shoving his hands into  his pockets, his head bowed.

She hadn’t realized it at the time (and wouldn’t have cared even if she had), but that would be the last time that she and Bartholomew would be alone or speak honestly with each other for several years. She’d never have cause fault him for his manners; he remained unfailingly polite and even thoughtful in his choice of gifts for her and her dad on birthdays and holidays. But from that moment in the woods, the distance between them only continued to grow.

By the time Iris left for college, she and Bartholomew were all but strangers, and Eddie had still never seemed to really register her existence. Perhaps the latter was a blessing, because it might have made it easier for her to go. She couldn’t believe her luck when was admitted to her top-choice school overseas and was even more astonished when she received a scholarship to attend from an anonymous benefactor.

Her first few months at the school were bittersweet; she missed her dad, he friends, and of course Eddie. But over time, her fixation on Eddie lessened, even if her devotion did not. She made new friends, explored new interests, and even went on dates with other men. And every so often, she’d read the society pages back home to see what the Allen family were up to in her absence. It seemed like every week, Eddie had a new woman on his arm – a fact which initially brought her pain but which she eventually was able to accept with an indulgent laugh.

And then the unthinkable happened. Almost a year after she left, Henry Allen died unexpectedly, and Iris managed to get a few days off school to return home for the funeral. Her first encounter with Eddie upon her return caused her heart to race no less than it had before, but she noticed with some degree of surprise that it was Bartholomew she couldn’t stop watching at the funeral.

Later, she would console herself with the thought that her attention had likely not been entirely consumed by Eddie because his open display of grief had garnered the attention of many – including several pretty ladies – who seemed eager to congregate around him to offer their sympathy and support. Bartholomew, on the other hand, remained somewhat apart, staying silent until approached directly. While most attendees to the funeral watched Eddie, Bartholomew watched his mother, offering her a glass of water or his arm for support whenever her strength seemed to flag.

Once – just once – as the coffin was being slowly lowered into its eternal resting place, Bartholomew looked up and met her eyes. His features were frozen, but she saw his eyes were red, filled with tears that he refused to shed, and her heart broke for him. It was then that she remembered his words from the last time they had really spoken. “I thought you saw me.”

He looked away quickly, and Iris tried to turn her attention back to Eddie. But when the service had concluded and they returned to the Allen home for the repast, Iris found herself preoccupied with thoughts of how Bartholomew was faring. She wanted to talk to him, to make sure he was okay, but she didn’t get a chance since she only saw him briefly, as he was busy seeing to his guests’ comfort and making sure they had enough refreshments to go around.

It seemed strange, that he would spend such an event worrying about other people. So it felt perfectly natural that she should want to check on him, to offer him her condolences for his loss. With that in mind, she’d sought him out, eventually finding him in his father’s study, hands clasped behind his back as he stared gravely out the window.

Inexplicably shy in his company – though she’d never been so before – Iris approached without a word, taking a position at his side. If he needed her, she would be there for him, but if he would rather his peace be undisturbed, she wouldn’t pressure him. After a moment, she saw him turn toward her and took this as an invitation to speak. “I don’t mean to disturb you. I just wanted to tell you that so sorry about your dad,” she murmured softly, the words sounding inane in her own ears.

He paused, and she watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed heavily before he could speak, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you. I’m, uh, I’m glad you could come. It would have meant a lot to him. He – he thought very highly of you, you know.”

“The feeling was mutual,” she said with a wistful smile. In her position as daughter of an employee, she couldn’t claim that she’d ever been terribly close with either Henry or Nora Allen. Or with their children, come to that. But the elder Allens always been kind to her, taking an interest in her when she was in their presence and remembering her when she wasn’t. She tried for something profound – or at least comforting – but her brain resorted to inanity once more as she offered a lame, “He’ll be missed.”

Bartholomew nodded, turning his attention back to the window, and Iris almost took that as her cue to leave except that he spoke again. “Your dad has been very proud of you this year. I’m sure you won’t be surprised to hear that he takes every opportunity to tell everyone who’ll listen how well you’re doing.” She didn’t know what to say to that, so she didn’t say anything at all, and a brief silence fell between them once more. Eventually, he broke it by asking, “Do you like it? School, I mean.”

Iris recognized he was probably looking for anything to talk about that would take his mind off his own grief, and so she lingered, turning to look out the window as well. “For the most part. I can’t say I love all the classes, and it was hard at first, being so far from home. But I’ve made some friends, and I just got a part-time job that’s flexible with school and will tide me over between semesters.”

He looked at her in surprise. “Oh, I thought you might come home over breaks.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I thought about it. But I decided I wanted to get a job and help out, and my dad said he’d come visit me whenever he can.”

Bartholomew let out a soft sound in the back of his throat. “Well, if there’s ever anything else you need, all you need to do is ask.” She didn’t immediately catch that strange word, else, and wouldn’t until she was on the plane back home, too late to ask him what it meant. Instead, when she started to thank him, he waved it away, visibly uncomfortable by her gratitude. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re enjoying school,” he said, glancing down at her once more. “You should do something that makes you happy.”

She started to reply, but unfortunately (though she wouldn’t register the misfortune of it for some time), it was just then that Iris heard a loud sob behind her and looked over her shoulder to see that Eddie in the hallway, surrounded by his usual phalanx of admirers. She hesitated, inwardly debating stepping out to check on him but not wanting to abandon the man by her side. Her indecision became moot, however, as by the time she turned back to her companion, Bartholomew had walked away. She looked around just in time to see him step through an adjoining door, and though she cried out after him, he seemed not to have heard her as the door swung closed behind him.

It occurred to her on her long flight back to school that she was always a victim of timing when it came to Bartholomew. But what did that matter? Her heart did – and always would – belong to Eddie. There weren’t many things she was certain of in the world, but she was certain of that.

[fictionbyafangirl]

Tundric Heart

Most shifts that Jill worked were uneventful. The co-workers that she shared shifts with were always the same. Clark was the cook, and if need-be, the bouncer. He was a large, middle-aged man that had served in the army for a few decades. Burly when he had to be, he could be intimidating, but to Jill, he was just the sweetest. Typically, the waitresses had around an hour or two of overlap, which usually meant Trina, a woman who worked three jobs while finishing up college. She was honestly an inspiration and Jill admired her hard work. Trina always set the brunette up for a successful shift.  Her regulars were there nightly, without fail. 

“Can I get you gentlemen a refill?” She’d usher coffee to Glenn and his brother, Jack, as they wrote up itineraries for their senior’s club right at the bar. The eldest brother, Glenn, preferred his coffee black and straight up. It was amazing how he could swallow the piping-hot liquid just as soon as it was poured. Jack, on the other-hand, liked a bit of sweetness and cream to his, a stack of half-and-half cups usually towered next to his saucer that housed his brew. 

“Maybe one more before we go,” Jack mused aloud before placing a sticky note down in his planner. “It seems like a chilly night and I’ll need all the warmth I can get when I leave.” He was cheeky, and Glenn’s chuckle showed that he agreed. Jill topped their mugs off with her customary smile before saddling the pot once more to make her rounds.

“How are you doing over here, Miss Bernice? Need any refills or can I put in a to-go order?” Bernice, and her binder of papers scattered all across the table, did the books for her local church congregation.  She had been born in the city and lived her entire life, practically knowing everyone that lived in the area. Her strawberry blonde hair had shifted to a pearlescent white over the years, with one streak of her natural color still weaving its way through. 

“You know, I would love another glass of sweet tea, if you could, dear?” Bernice was sweet, grandmotherly in her nature as she smiled with her whole face, her eyes nearly disappearing behind the pleats in her matured skin.

“You got it,” Jill winked before departing from the table to her station with the glass in hand. With ease she punched the addition to Bernice’s order before finding the massive pitcher of sweet tea that Trina had stored in the fridge at the end of her shift. Within a minute, she had the refill back to the woman, glancing to her next table to tend to.. “All set, dear.”

Holliwell, or as she would become known as: Holli, would sit in her booth, solo, to work on her graphic novel. She wasn’t much of a talker, but was kind enough. Jill and Holli mostly stuck to a series of nods and hand gestures, particularly a thumbs-up, for their communication after initially serving her what she normally ordered. The gang of college guys that lived together always had their dinner at the diner, and they always were Jill’s source of entertainment. The group consisted of Matt, Jerome, Steven, Jared and Paul. They were lively, comedic and good-natured. The young men were roommates that rented a house a few blocks from the diner. As typical, collegiate bachelors go, they weren’t blessed in the culinary department and often found themselves at their usual spot with two tables pushed together. They inflicted some harmless flirting onto her, to which she respectfully declined and they would carry on with their stay. 

The night would always entail the same, expected things and Jill was comfortable with that as opposed to the opposite. She had worked in a rowdy bar once while trying to make ends meet in her own school days. Between sports nights and events held at the bar, she was constantly having to take care of conflict. She had been thankful for bouncers and speedy policemen before she couldn’t handle the chaos anymore. Simple and quiet suited her as she grew in age, and nonetheless, she loved the relationships she had built with her regulars. Whether it was hearing about their prime or just simply what they had done that very day, she was a welcome ear to chat at. That evening that she worked, everything had been happening like clockwork, that is, until he walked in. 

The moment he walked through the door, Jill couldn’t help but to keep an eye on him, subtly watching him take his seat. She hadn’t been the only one who’s attention was grabbed by him. Instantly, Bernice’s watchful eye was on him the moment she heard the chime of the door, casting her eyes back to the array of numbers she balanced, though occasionally checking on him. He was clad in all black like a walking mystery shrouded in secrecy. He was a mixup from her typical shift. Since he shielded his face with his hat, she wasn’t sure if she should approach him, but her better judgement told her to treat him as if he were any other customer. Jill topped off Glenn’s coffee, almost forgetting to pay attention as her focus was pulled elsewhere. 

Thankfully, she regained her rights and made sure her current customers were taken care of before making her way to the mob of young adult men who were particularly rambunctious this night. She overheard garbled conversation of advancing to the state playoffs which filled in all the gaps she needed to know. With her order booklet ready, she made rounds. They typically didn’t venture from what they frequently ordered, which made Jill’s life a tad bit easier.

“Hey Jill, when are you going to let me take you out of this place to a real restaurant?” Paul smirked at her, having given similar variations of the same line to her in the past. The blonde man with brown eyes was a football player for the local college, hoping to make it big. In fact, they all played for the football team. Paul had always been the most vocal about his flirting, clearly having not been turned down in his hometown very often. Jill didn’t know if his jaw could drop any faster than it had the very first time he asked her out and she declined. He recovered quickly and played it off as though he had only been half-serious, but she could see he had been slightly jilted with the word ‘no’. 

“When you can afford me, so… never?” She was quick and clever when it came to shooting them down. The boys had never gone beyond playful, to which she was thankful for. “So, who is next? Who’s gonna shoot their shot now?” Jill gestured for the next grab, though it was evident that she was being lighthearted with them. All were hysterical, always prompting laughter from the waitress’ lips. They varied in the degree of their attempt, Paul usually being the worst and Steven being the gentlest. Matt was from the Northeast with his evident accent that he swore he didn’t have. Jerome was from the south, vowing to make his mother proud with his grades and athletics scholarship. Jared was from the Northwest, a country boy that tended to the family farm but broke off with bigger aspirations in life. Steven was a lean Asian man that defied his family to play football. They had planned his life for him, which he didn’t dream of. Jill was proud of him for standing his ground to live his own life. He was, by far, the sweetest of the bunch with his pickup lines, which the waitress surmised was just to fit into the situation. Everyone else was doing it, so he figured he would, as well. It almost made her want to accept his proposal just to mess with his friends, but almost wasn’t enough to convince her of doing so. She addressed each one, waiting for the playful pickup lines before shutting them down with grace, poise and a smile on her face. It was flattering that they found her attractive despite having ten-or-so years on them. She took pride in how she kept herself together, applying extra effort when need be, but she took care of herself and apparently it showed. 

As she jotted down each meal order, Jill couldn’t help but to feel as though she were being watched by a spectre in the corner. He had been so silent, so still the entire time. It was eerie, yet she wanted to see his face, which was beyond her. She wanted to find out the reasoning behind the masking. She wasn’t sure what to expect beneath the hat, nor did she know if she’d even get that far. Finishing with the young men, she took a minute to go pin the checks to the order wheel, momentarily shielded by the walls that formed the cook’s alcove. Using a small mirror, she used her fingertips to give her hair a tousle and re-apply her lipstick, a warm nude color, rubbing her lips gently together. The man was new to the diner and it was her job to ensure he had a pleasant time to return. Jill’s boss had confided in her the troubles the diner had hit so any customer was a step toward keeping the doors open. 

Jill drew in a long breath that rooted itself in her stomach, her chest raising and falling as though weighted down with an anxious feeling before walking out toward the table that sat the cloaked gentleman. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out why she was so curious and intrigued about him. For all she knew he could have been a homicidal maniac just moments from breaking out in a murderous rampage. Yet something nagged at her, drawing her interest to him as her feet, quite literally, brought her physically closer to him. Each step was heavy in its placement, a specific destination lying ahead of her. The diner was typically kept at a pleasant temperature, with the exception of days with colder weather, such as the evening she was working, that the staff would dab the thermostat up a bit. With the cook’s ovens and burners constantly blazing and the hot coffee brewing into stainless steel carafes all day long, Jill always found the climate within the diner to be suitable for how she dressed. She had chosen the comfortable flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up after checking the weather before her shift,  though she noticed as she neared the lone table against the glass that she seemingly became colder, a chill dancing atop her flesh. Bringing her hands briefly to rub over the top of the sleeves of her shirt to warm herself, Jill continued on her path. 

The waitress pulled a deep, reassuring breath through her lips before approaching the table. The bill of the man’s hat had been pointed in the direction of the opposite side of the diner, never moving once he settled in. Without thinking, Jill took the few extra strides to move in front of his view, her hands moving to perch on the curve of her waist before speaking as she smiled though his face never once glanced up to acknowledge her. She could practically feel Bernice’s prying eyes boring into her back, shielded by the waitress.

“Hi, there! I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. My name’s Jill and I’ll be your waitress on duty tonight. What can I get you?” Jill added a bit of pep to her voice, her one hip subtly cocked out to place most of her weight on the corresponding foot. She tried, for the life of her, to figure out why she wanted to hear what his voice sounded like so badly in that very moment. Perhaps it was the classic trope of the good, innocent girl and the bad, mysterious boy but he was such an enigma to her. Her eyes followed his hand as he fumbled with the menu provided, but still, he didn’t move his head a single inch. She anticipated hearing him speak. She could see from his nose down to his chin and neck, which from what she saw was more than appealing, but he remained in the shadow of the bill of his hat. Jill wasn’t sure if hearing him speak would alleviate her curiosity or add to the mystery, but she still waited to hear him. 

“Green tea. Iced.” His voice was low, yet smooth. A mixture of a whisper and coarseness. Jill felt every hair on her arms raise in reaction, her flesh prickling as a small shudder swept over her. His voice was far different than what she had imagined in her mind, but it wasn’t different in a bad way, based on her body’s involuntary response to three simple words. Yet, those three words, watching them leave his mouth, watching the details of his lips as he formed them was enough for her to forget for merely a moment where she was and what she was doing. Blinking hard to bring herself back to reality, Jill fumbled with her hands to grab her order pad and pen, giving one blunt nod before scrawling down his request. 

“Iced green tea, coming right up. What’s uh… a name I can put on this order?” The waitress hoped she recovered nicely to not expose her nerves. Why on earth was she so timid and coy when it came to this man that she didn’t even know? Confusion didn’t even begin to touch the way she felt inside, knowing that this elusive man was simply another customer, yet still, there was a strange, baffling draw toward him. Jill’s teeth found the inner-edge of her lips, gnawing as the tension of the moment flared. At least she’d have a name for half of the face.

“Brian.” Faint and subdued, just as before, though she did detect a hint of an accent. More curiosities swirled around in her brain as she then began to wonder about where he was from, what brought him here, of all places. What he did.  She just simply wanted to know him… though finally, she had a name. She thought of asking more, but instead, she kept her professional distance. If he had the capacity to peek inside her mind he’d surely be out of the door in an instant. Still, she wasn’t a moron as he definitely made it known through his demeanor that he surely didn’t want to be bothered.

“Right. Iced green tea for Brian, coming right up.” Jill held the book of paper and pen to her chest before twisting around on the balls of her feet, her hair swinging listlessly as she made the turn. Despite her wanting to keep in his company and continue asking him whatever popped in her mind, his disposition made her better judgment kick in. 

Jill found herself at her work station, entering her credentials into the kiosk. She gripped the edges of the table and bent over to release a long, shaky breath as it loaded the program on the screen. Her eyes closed briefly, unable to pinpoint exactly what in the hell was up with her that night. She never lost her cool, and more importantly, never felt so compelled to a stranger. ‘Get a grip, Jill. Snap out of it’. She was glad her brain still had a semblance of rationality. Bringing herself back, she lifted her head to punch in the order for the table before suspending it to make the tea. It wasn’t ordered often in the diner, but the task had seemed simple enough. She placed the tea bags into the cup, pouring half of the water from the heated spigot to allow it to steep. While she waited for the essence of the green tea to infuse with the water, she prepared a saucer with an array of sweeteners and a straw, making sure each placement was precise and to her liking in a circular fan-shape. She couldn’t figure out why on earth she was putting so much thought into it but still, she strived to make a good impression. Once the tea was ready, she added the rest of the cold water and ice to top it off. She placed the glass in the center of the display of paper packets and ushered it over to his table, swallowing hard as the distance between them closed. 

“Enjoy, Brian... “ Jill smiled as she sat the tea down on the table beside him, though he couldn’t see her expression through the thick material of his hat, opting for a slight nod instead. Jill lingered for just a moment before pacing backwards slowly away, turning on her heel to check in with Holli, then next Bernice, and finally to check on the group of guys, occasionally casting a glance Brian’s way in hopes to catch a glimpse of his full-face. He was stoic as he sat, his hand only moving to take idle sips of the tea, opting to drink it plain. She hoped she had prepared it well enough to his liking. 

He never ordered anything else. The entirety of his stay he nursed that tea and made it last throughout it. Jill had said her goodbyes to Glenn and Jack, sending them off in their usual manner before closing their tab and setting aside the same allocated tip they always left on their bill. It wasn’t much, but it was a nice gesture. The meals of the college students were ushered out swiftly. Next came her duties of refilling condiments, prepping for the next shift that would relieve her. It was all about helping out. She cleared Holli’s table after she had left, though Holli only ever ordered appetizers, keeping her table free of obstacles as her pencil was constantly on her sketch pad. 

“Anything else I can get for you, or are you packing up for the night?” Next was the bookkeeper’s turn as she helped Bernice gather her things and return them to her orderly nature. The bookkeeper was growing older in age and appreciated all the help she could get.  Jill crouched down to the elder woman’s level as she leaned in close, one defined brow among her wrinkly complexion arched in suspicion as she glanced toward the massive pane of glass. 

“No, I’m doing just fine. But have you seen that fellow over there? I don’t know about you, but he seems up to no good… So very odd.” The woman’s voice was gravelly, yet quiet. Her deep, blue eyes fixated on him as though she were the watch-person for the diner. Truth be told, she was a nosey woman who loved to impede where she could. Shifting on her feet, still crouched, to cast a glance at the man in black. She couldn’t help the chill that trickled down her spine in the most exhilarating way. She captured her plump lower lip between her teeth, gently biting down in thought before turning back to the matronly woman.

“Oh, stop that, Bernice,” she said teasingly to her customer. “That doesn’t seem very becoming of you to judge someone you don’t even know. Besides, he’s probably just passing through and you’ll probably never see him again. Maybe he’s waiting on a car repair and has nothing but time to sit and relax? You just don’t know.” Jill was right and Bernice knew it. Her pride made the older woman turn her nose upward, her chest puffed as though she would rather appear courageous in her accusations than recoil in defeat. Jill gathered up the clutter after assisting the woman, though after Jill’s remark, she managed to finish cleaning up her things on her own. Pride could be unbecoming for some. 

Jill brought the dirty dishes to the back to throw in the washer in her off-time before it was time to close out the group of friends and their order. She collected all their payment methods and returned with their corresponding receipts. They had always been kind tippers, despite being college students. Their mothers would be proud. She said her goodbyes, wished them safe travels and told them she’d see them the next night, just as though it were second nature. Her smile was bright as her eyes followed them toward the door, noticing Brian had left already without a trace. Jill’s eyebrow quirked as she made her way to his table to clear the untouched saucer and glass. He had finished the beverage completely. Lifting each item, she noticed the bill tucked beneath the condiment holder. He had left a fifty dollar bill to purchase a two dollar drink with free refills. The edges of Jill’s lips twitched upward in a smirk as she picked it up. She was more than flattered but knew she was undeserving of such a tip. As her eyes lifted to peer through the glass into the dark and rainy evening, they settled on the abandoned building outside, seemingly in a daze of hoping she’d left a good enough impression that he’d return. 

Jill put the remainder of Brian’s money into an envelope to stow in her locker in the employee’s break room. If he’d come back, she’d kindly remit it back to him. She’d give it a month before accepting his generosity, though it was hardly something she expected with how impersonal he had been with her. Despite that, she still looked forward to his presence, should he show again, more than she should have.

[kissjane]

BUSY BALCONY / Short fic

#10 from this prompt list

You confessed your feelings and we’re about to kiss but we get interrupted

It was just another party, like they had had dozens of times before and no doubt would have dozens of times later.

And just like at every other party, Eliott had spent most of it trying to keep tabs on Lucas. He could be doing any of a number of other things – dancing with his friends, or trying to keep Idriss from getting too drunk, or smoking on the balcony, or getting drinks from the kitchen, or even making out a bit with a random girl – but whatever he was doing, he was always watching Lucas from the corner of his eye too.

On the nights when Lucas looked happy, goofing around with his friends, dancing with the girls, Eliott went home feeling content. On the nights however when Lucas seemed to want to forget certain things that were bugging him and got way too drunk or sat outside smoking all evening, Eliott went home with a heavy heart. The worst were the nights when Lucas made out with some guy against the wall – those were the times Eliott went home upset and frustrated and most likely too drunk to be healthy.

Tonight seemed like it was going to be a good night. Lucas was drinking a beer, but he wasn’t downing hard liquor as if his life depended on it, and he was not making eyes at anybody, nor grinding up to some unknown guy on the dancefloor.

Eliott had been dancing a bit, but he felt sweaty and sticky in the stifling room, and he wanted to get some fresh air. It was a crisp autumn night, and the skies were clear. He nonchalantly glanced over his shoulder at Lucas. He was talking to Manon, and they both had smiles on their faces. Lucas was telling a story, gesturing heavily, and Eliott could see his eyes sparkle all the way across the room. He drank them in, but before it could become creepy, he turned his back to the two of them and went in search of some peace and quiet outside.

He found what he searched for on a tiny balcony, leaning on the banister and staring out over the back walls of the neighbourhood’s apartments. It was hardly romantic, just a bunch of cramped balconies with trash bags on them, or washing lines, or air conditioning units. But above it all shone the moon, and Eliott reveled in the silvery light piercing the darkness.

He closed his eyes for a moment, just breathing in the cold air. He shivered a bit when the night breeze skimmed his heated skin, but he didn’t want to go back in to get his jacket. He thought about Lucas being so carefree just now with Manon. Lucas had been looking happy a lot more often lately, his laugh open and wide, his eyes twinkling. Eliott found himself mesmerized by it more often than not.

He was so lost in his own mind, he didn’t hear the door open behind him, but he heard a familiar voice apologize when they noticed the balcony was occupied.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t know you were here. I just wanted to smoke, but I can find some other place to do it…”

Eliott turned around. Lucas stood in the door opening, looking at Eliott and fiddling with a blunt.

“Oh!”, Eliott exclaimed. “No, that’s fine, you can smoke, if you can squeeze on here with me…”

The small space really wasn’t meant to fit two people, but Eliott stepped back all the way to the railing so Lucas could cross the threshold and close the door behind him. They stood side by side, their shoulders touching. Lucas kept twirling the blunt around, but he didn’t light it. He seemed a bit absent-minded, Eliott noticed, and he wondered what had happened to the boisterous Lucas from a few minutes ago.

“Are you okay?”, he inquired, a bit unsure whether it was the right thing to do. He and Lucas hadn’t ever really hung out together, and he didn’t want to overstep.

Lucas shrugged.

“Yeah, everything fine,” he answered, but he didn’t look at Eliott. Eliott returned to staring at the grey walls surrounding them as silence fell between them.

Suddenly, Lucas turned to face Eliott, and he spoke up.

“Actually, I do have a bit of an issue.”

Eliott turned too. Lucas was staring straight at him, and in the dark it was hard to discern, but it seemed like he was blushing faintly. It might just be the cold wind biting his cheeks, but either way, it fascinated Eliott. He wished the moon would be brighter, so he could see Lucas better.

“Do you want to talk about it?”, he asked, schooling his features and carefully keeping his voice neutral.

“It’s this guy,” Lucas started, then fell silent, and lowered his eyes.

Great, Eliott thought. He didn’t want to talk to Lucas about whoever Lucas was crushing on, but he already offered, so he nodded cautiously.

“What about this guy?”, he prodded, when Lucas didn’t continue.

“I’m, like, into him. A lot,” Lucas stuttered after a long beat. “He’s perfect. He’s so hot. And talented. And smart. We haven’t really talked a lot, but he’s just… yeah.”

Eliott waited, but Lucas remained silent once again.

“And?”, Eliott finally asked, cursing his masochistic side.

Lucas looked up again, his eyebrows drawn into a frown.

“I don’t think he’s into me, though,” Lucas admitted.

He kept staring at Eliott, until he sharply turned away, breaking the eye contact.

“Never mind,” he said, shrugging. “It’s not your problem, anyway.”

He shivered a bit, and Eliott wanted to pull him closer, give him some of his warmth.

“He must be very stupid, then,” he finally said, slowly. “To not be into you, I mean.”

He held his breath, waiting for Lucas’ reaction. It came in the form of Lucas lifting his eyes up to Eliott’s, the blue dark and cloudy.

“He must be stupid?”, Lucas repeated, his voice hoarse.

“He must be,” Eliott stated again, firmer this time.

Their eyes were locked, and Lucas seemed rooted on the spot, frozen. He seemed unsure what to do or say, and Eliott decided it was now or never.

“I’m not stupid, though,” he whispered, hesitatingly, afraid he interpreted everything completely wrong, but his eyes never leaving Lucas’.

Lucas shivered again, but this time, it was another kind of shiver.

“You’re not?”, Lucas finally asked, his voice barely audible, stepping the tiniest bit closer to Eliott. Eliott leaned against the balustrade, and spread his legs just enough. Lucas took another tiny step.

“I’m not,” he confirmed, his gaze flitting between Lucas’ eyes and his lips. He had daydreamed about those lips, about what they would taste like, about the sounds that would escape from them if he were to kiss them.

Lucas stared, and leaned closer towards Eliott, agonizingly slow.

“I would be very into you, if you were into me,” Eliott breathed, when Lucas’ mouth was just centimeters away from his own, and he dipped his head, ready to claim it, when the door suddenly opened again, and a very drunk Basile wiggled himself on the balcony, pressing Lucas flush against Eliott in the process. Not that Eliott minded that – his arms immediately snaked around Lucas’ waist – but he had been wanting to kiss Lucas for ages, and to almost get everything he had fantasized of, only to have it be snatched away so rudely, was pure torture.

Lucas groaned, and they were so close Eliott could feel it reverberating through his body.

“Baz, what are you doing?”, Lucas demanded, clearly affected by the interruption too.

“Just needed some air, man. Hey, what were the two of you doing out here anyway?”

Basile squinted at them, but he was too drunk to focus for long and gave up.

The door opened again, and Arthur pulled Basile back inside, not paying any attention to the other occupants of the balcony.

“Come on, dude, I’m gonna take you home, let’s go…”

Basile followed willingly, and when the door fell closed behind him, both Lucas and Eliott sighed in relief. They stared at each other for a long beat, and Eliott moved closer again – when the door opened for the third time in as many minutes and Emma and Alex, necking heavily, tried to force themselves out, hardly noticing the other couple trying to get some action on, too. Eliott stared at them in total disbelief, and then back to Lucas in utter despair. Lucas looked just as devastated, and suddenly, the whole situation seemed too ridiculous for words.

“Come on,” Eliott said. “Let’s find a more secluded place.”

Lucas nodded, his eyes big, and they left the balcony hand in hand.

[dakotafinely]

I mean if you want too u do that to tho.

(Also let's call the baker lady carol grey she's a serious badass but has a heart of gold. And has 2 granddaughters)

I am LOVING HER ALREADY!!

Alright, alright now I gotta do it, so buckle up kids!

Man, this gets long because I have ideas~ so-

The bullet’s hailed on them like a hell-storm. The sound of them ricocheting scratched against their ears. Leonard lifted himself to take a few shots back whenever he felt he could take the risk.

Danny had a bullet graze his shootin’ arm. And Mickey was trying to find an exit that the police wouldn’t notice. So Leonard was the only thing keeping the police from capturing them completely. Leonard himself was just surprised that the police’s aim was getting better.

“I found one!” Mickey practically shouted, barely heard above the gunshots being fired at them. Mickey lead them into an shaft that had barely enough space to for them to wiggle through. None of them relaxed, even as the hail storm of bullet’s began to fade. Even when they reached the other side and landed themselves in an alleyway of New York City.

Actually, how’d they get topside through a shaft anyways?

“Mickey, why’d you take us topside?” Leonard asked as he helped Danny up. Mickey shrugged “You said you wanted outta there, this was the only exit that didn’t have popo hanging around it.” Mickey responded before he winced. The adrenaline now fading he felt a sharp pain in his tail. Looking down to see a gunshot oozing with blood.

Mickey let out a quiet curse at the pain and curled himself up so the wound would be off the floor, placing pressure on it to stop the blood.

That’s when Carol came by. A white woman with grey roots slowly taking over her hair, placed in a tight floofy ponytail. She was short and hefty and had freckles that looked like constellations on her skin. She was walking by whistling a tune she’d heard on the radio when she overheard the Mud Dogs.

“Mickey when’d you get shot?”

“You act like I’d actually know, all I know is it hurts.”

To see three tall Yokai standing in an alleyway, two with injuries and the third clearly trying to figure out how they’d even get to patch themselves up. She couldn’t help but step in.

“Excuse me,” she spoke, catching the three’s attention with startled stares “you look like you could use some help, I have a good first aid kit in my bakery just down the street. Come on,” she offers with the small tilt of her head out the alleyway. She begun slowly walking over to them as she spoke, trying to get a closer look at them.

Danny has bruises on his face, his clothes torn up from scrapes when they were running away. He held caution as he stared at her, trying to find any hidden motive in her movements.

Leonard had more cuts than Danny did. Scrapes and bruises covering his arms and his torso too. As he kept frequently turning around to shoot off the police and make them lag behind. He was too busy taking a look at Mickey’s most recent gunshot, trying to make sure it hadn’t been infected due to it being on Mickey’s tail.

Mickey also had a gunshot graze his torso, tho it was mostly scab by now and barely bleed when it first appeared. It was what had started the chase, as the police caught them off guard. Shooting at them ruthlessly the whole way through.

“Okay!” Mickey stated enthusiastically, Danny looked at him with a small glare.

“Mickey!” Danny hissed at him, Mickey looked at the rat Yokai with confusion. What? She offered, and they kinda needed the help.

“Danny’s right,” Leonard spoke up, standing up and pointing his pistol at Carol. Who stared at him, un-phased by the gun pointed at her forehead “how do we know you’re not a policemen with a cloakin’ broach?” he growled.

She let out a light huff and a small smiles as she gently moved the gun from her forehead.

“Do you honestly think a policeman would offer help to you?” She asked, almost amused by the idea. Leonard hesitates, before putting his gun away. Danny scoffs a bit.

“Are you kiddin’ me Loathsome? That proves nothing!” he states, begin right in his statement completely.

“Not like we have many other choices Dan,” Leonard retorts before picking up Mickey. Danny reluctantly following behind with no where else to go. Plus, who else was gonna bail his idiot’s out of trouble they get themselves into?

The small group walks down a basically empty street, cars driving by occasionally as they turn to find a small and homey Bakery awaiting them. A small sign hung outside the building that said “Knead Bread? - The Grey’s Family Bakery” in beautiful calligraphy.

Mickey looks smugly at Danny, who sticks his tongue out back at him. Leonard rolls his eyes, knowing what the two are doing without having to look at them.

Carol pulls out a key, hearing the door give a soft click as she unlocked it. Opening it up and turning on the lights.

“Go ahead and take a seat boys, I’ll bring out the first aid kit for ya,” she said, gesturing to the only table in the room with exactly three seats. Leonard plops down Mickey onto the chair and Danny plops himself across from him.

“See Danny, you should know better than to doubt my instincts!” Mickey stated with pride.

“Mickey, your last instinct told you to put jelly and mustard on a sandwich,” Leonard spoke with obvious disgust at just the idea. Crossing his arms and staring with a little bewilderment at the Eel Yokai.

“And it was good! It’s not my fault you didn’t try it!” Mickey retorted with a tiny pout. Carol chuckled as she walked back over, overhearing the boys conversation as she put down the first aid kit. Opening it up and pulling out some bandages and cleaning alcohol.

Silence over fell the room as Leonard and Carol began to patch up the other two with gunshot wounds.

“So, do I get names for you three or is that confidential?” Carol lightly jokes as finished cleaning Danny’s wound.

“Mickey!”

“Danny.”

“Leonard, and you?”

“I’m Carol, so what’s three boys like you running away from the police for?”

Silence again, the three glancing at each other. Carol picks up on the unexpected tension from the question and sighs.

“You don’t have to tell, forgive me. I grew up in the south and being noisy is a way of life there. Sometimes I forget big cities like this don’t like people who ask to many questions,” She rambles a bit, trying to put the boys at ease. It seems to work as Leonard let’s out a small breath of relief. Finishing up on bandaging both Mickey’s wounds.

“So then why’d you move here instead of staying south?” Mickey asked earning a light wack from Leonard. Getting a tiny “Hey!” from the eel Yokai.

“We shouldn’t be askin’ about her life when she’s not askin’ about ours,” Leonard crossed his arms like a parent scolding a child. Something he often had to do with Mickey, who had no sense of boundaries or when something was inappropriate to ask. It was about the respect of privacy.

Carol gave a light chuckle as she finished wrapping up Danny’s arm.

“No, I don’t mind! Call me an open book if you will, now why don’t you kids stay for a little while and have some cookies,” Carol offered, before Danny could reject for the group. His own stomach rumbled, than Leonard’s followed suit.

Carol chuckled at the response “I’ll take that as a yes, come on, I have a fresh batch in the back just from yesterday.” Carol lead them past the counter, the displays empty today. As she hadn’t opened up the shop yet.

Mickey took a glance around, stopping at three pictures.

One was of Carol standing with two beautiful women, one Asian and the other Indian, holding up a small Asian baby with joy. Standing as close to each other as possible. All joyously coddling the baby in the center.

The other was of a black man and a Hispanic woman with Carol in the center. Holding up a baby equally as prideful as the other picture. The two held their arms around her as the grinned at the camera.

The third was of both families with Carol, looping arms with the Asian woman and the black man. Two girls, looking around ten or eleven, sat in front of them, one Asian and the other clearly mixed. The Indian woman hung off the Asian woman, with a gentle hand on the Asian girl in front of them. The Hispanic woman was standing, clearly pregnant with a hand on the black man.

“Who’re they?” Mickey asks Carol, who’s handing out peanut butter cookies to the other two. Who are eating them like it’s their last meal they’ll ever have. Carol walks over and offers a cookie before looking at the photo’s with a smile.

“Ah, that’s my daughter, Evelyn. And her wife, Anika,” she points to the Asian woman “And that’s my son, Dajuan, and his wife Daniela. Those are their kids, Dakota and Valeria respectively.” Carol explains point to each person in the picture.

“Daniela is pregnant with twins we just found out! Due sometime next month,” Carol adds with a glowing smile, Dan and Leonard walking over in curiosity.

“Okay but they don’t look anything like you,” Dan states getting an elbow from Leonard, who shoots him a glare. Dan stares back, come on! Most of the time humans look similar to each other when they’re related!

“Ah, that’s because Evelyn and Dajuan were adopted. Dajuan’s the oldest by a couple years. I adopted him when he was twelve and when Evelyn was ten,” Carol let’s out a small sigh at the memory.

“It wasn’t easy, but eventually the three of us became an inseparable family.” She add as Mickey takes another cookie off her plate. She looks to Danny with a fond smile.

“You act a lot like my boy. Very wary of everyone ya meet, but once you get to know him. You’ve got someone on your side through hell and back.” She hums looking back to the pictures. Danny down at his cookies with a small smile on his face, man she hit ‘em in the soft spot.

“Of course, you’re just like my Evelyn,” Carol says looking to Mickey, who immediately lights up “always curious, always willing to go where ever the wind takes you. But when she sees something or someone she grows close to, she will drop anything to help you.” Carol looks back at the picture and smiles again before sighing.

“Alright you three, best you get home. I have customers due soon and I need to get ready, plus I don’t think other human’s will take so kindly to three Yokai in my kitchen,” she jokes shooing them out through the back door.

They all say a quick, oddly heartfelt, goodbye to Carol. Who directs them to a portal just down the next alleyway that’s far from any police down in the Hidden City. The boy’s have more questions, but as the bell dings in the front, signaling a customer. They part ways.

Heading to one of their three bases to lay low until the police are off their trail.

[The only thing I hate about writing mini-fics is that I NEVER know how to end them, so I hope you liked it! I also hope it’s okay how I made Carol. I just got a whole flood of ideas for while writing this so I had to add them. I hope no one seem ooc, since we don’t see much of the Mud Dogs it’s kinda hard to create pin their personalities ya know? But I hope you guys like it as much as I had fun writing it!!]

[descendantofthesparrow]

Commission work -Happy Family - Harry Hook x Reader - oneshot

 sorry the kids are all white AF XS and yes Arella is Thomas’ sister Rachel XD she fit best for what i was looking for. and yes....killian looks alot older than 12 but that is the youngest pic of Thomas i could find that wasnt younger than 5 

*Arella is the oldest at 15, Killian is 12, the twins are 8, and Urania is 4!*

*Draco is 15 and is Mal and Bens oldest son*

@musicarose​ (commissioner) 

=

“boys! Dinners ready!” you yelled at the upstairs area of your beach house, hearing the tumble of the twins and Killian racing to get downstairs.

“ ‘ere comes the circus” Harry chuckled, placing a small plastic plate in front of the 4-year-old Urania and kissing her forehead. she hummed in delight and stuck the cut up pieces of alfredo chicken enchilada in her mouth, she had was missing her front teeth and unable to cut her food properly yet, so you and harry still cut her food up. You set up the twin's plates and waited for Arella to finish filling her plate.

“muove!” Damian screeched, pushing at his older brother Killian who was holding him back from the dining room “fuud! Mom Killian won’ lemme go!”

“Killian, let your brother go” you sighed, tapping your fingers on your arm as he sighed and released Damian shirt collar, the young boy raced into the room, jumping into his seat next to his brother and chowing down on his food. Killian snorted and got his food, setting his plate next to Arella’s and grabbing a soda from the fridge.

Harry ruffled Killains hair as he passed him to get his food, sitting across from you as you all ate dinner.

“so..” Killian started, a low teasing tone to his voice “I heard tha’ Arella’s got a boy- ah!” Arella chugged the rest of her juice and chucked her cup at him, hitting Killian right in the forehead.

“ten points” you joked, standing from your chair and walking over to Killian, examining his head “you okay baby?”

“jus’ a bruise mama” he muttered, glaring at Arella, who stuck her tongue out at him. “wha’d yeh do tha’ for!”

“you know why” she snarled between her teeth “don’t do that again or its your foot” Killian snorted and rolled his eyes.

“aye right, yeh jus’ don’ wan’ dad ta know about Dr-“ Arella yelled and attempted to dive over the table at Killian, Harry caught her mid-leap and pulled her away from the table, chuckling to himself as the 15-year-old wriggled around, screeching in his arms to no avail of getting free to kill her brother.

“LET MEH A’T ‘EM!” she screeched, her father's Scottish tongue drifting into her voice. You cleared your throat, both Killian and Arella freezing as soon as they heard the sound.

“Arella, your dad will be putting you down, you will NOT being attempting to kill your brother, and Killian, you will stop teasing your sister over something she doesn’t want us to know right now, if it's important she will tell us herself, understood?”

The teen and pre-teen glared at each other for a moment before they nodded, Arella slumping in Harry's arms and pouting down at the floor. You patted Killian's arm and nodded at his food.

“now finish up, or no dessert” Killian made a noise of complaint but obeyed, sliding back into his chair and continuing to eat his food.

The rest of dinner was like normal, usual stories of the day or snarking competitions, the twins being a mess, Urania being the calmest at the table, Arella and Harry sneakily tossing food at each other.

And you, sitting at the end of the table, opposite of Harry, smiling at your family of 7, the people who made your entire life on the isle worth it.

=

You knocked on Arellas door later that night, waiting for her call before you entered “come in” she yelled, smiling slightly as you stepped in, two root beer floats in your hands. “oooh thanks mom” she chirped, holding out her hand for the dessert and placing it on her desk after you handed it to her.

You hummed and sat on her bed, spooning at the vanilla ice cream in the cup, “if you don’t mind, would you like to tell me what Killian was teasing you about?” you asked, giving Arella a supportive smile as she sputtered on her words, almost choking on her spoon.

“oh-um I-I” you shushed her and leaned forward, putting your hand on her knee.

“you don’t have to sweetie, but just know, I will only be supportive of you….unless you start taking illegal drugs, that’s a different thing altogether”

“no mom” she laughed, patting your hand and leaning back in her chair “um….well….how old were you when you started dating dad?”

“well….dating want a thing on the isle, but we started….”hanging out” together around 13, and made it official when we were 18 after the barrier went down” you explained, moving your hand around as you spoke.

She nodded “well….hypothetically, if I got a boyfriend, hypo-“ you laughed and nodded, gesturing for her to go on.

“hypothetically I get it~” you snickered, sipping at the root beer in the glass.

Arella giggled and sighed “well, if I got a boyfriend, right now….what would you say about it?”

You stayed silent for a moment, a bright smile blooming on your face, you could see the tension in Arellas shoulders release. “I would say ‘that’s amazing sweetie’ does he treat you well, and do I know him?”

“yes and yes” Arella confidently spoke, grinning to herself and messing with the silver and purple bracelet on her wrist.

Your eyes drifted down to her bracelet, and then to your “matching” red and (favorite color) one Harry had given to you when you were younger and on the isle.

And you knew exactly who gave her that bracelet “so Draco huh?” Arella turned red and squeaked, covering her mouth and looking at you in shock.

“how’d you-?!” she screeched, groaning as you pointed at her bracelet.

“you seem to forget i’m very good at reading people darling” you chucked, you stood from her bed, cupping her cheek and kissing the top of her head “hes a sweetheart and has been your best friend since you two were born, Harry and Mal may not like each other all that much but they haven't stopped your friendship i’m sure they wouldn’t stop your relationship, and if they did i’ll skin em” you chirped, grinning as Arella giggled and leaned up to hug you.

“I love you mom”

“I love you too my raven~” you hummed, setting your glass down and holding Arella close.

=

You and Ben could hardly hold in your laughter as Harry and Mal stared at Draco and Arella in shock, the two teens had come out and told them about their relationship, their hands intertwined tightly.

The two were terrified but were comforted by their other parents' stifled laughter.

“dad?” Arella shakily asked, her shoulder tensing as Harry locked eyes with Draco and then turned back to Arella.

“if yeh get married, don’ ye DARE put meh next ta dragon girl” he huffed, pointing his thumb at the blue and purple-haired girl next to him, who didn’t respond, staring down the teen's interlocked hands.

“mom?” Draco murmured, her green eyes locking with his.

“…..oh! fully supportive but…really? Do I have to see Harry more often?” she whined, flopping on her side on the couch and pouting at her son. Harry whipped around to glare at her, puffing his cheeks.

“same sentiment princess” he grumbled.

Draco and Arella let out a breath of relief, giggling loudly as you and Ben finally burst.

“for once they agree on something” Ben chuckled, standing and hugging his son into his side, you giggled and walked past Arella, kissing her cheek and grabbing Harry's hands.

“now Harry, do you have any problems with these two?” you hummed, cupping his jaw.

“no, I jus’ don’ wanna be ‘around Mal all the time” he whined, leaning to look at Arella and Draco “yeh have treated ‘er well since yeh two were babes, I'll overlook the fact yer mom's Mal” you snorted and kissed his jaw.

“good pirate” you joked, you turned to the two teens and opened your arms, Arella barreling into you for a hug. “come on Draco~” you sang giggling as he stepped into your arms with a grin.

“thank you Mrs. Hook” he muttered, nuzzling his cheek against your arm.

“no problem kiddo, thank you for making my daughter happy” you hummed. The two teens pulled away, Arella kissing your cheek before turning to Draco and giving him a bright smile.

He grinned back and looked to his mom and harry “we were planning to go to the movies tonight? Is tha-“ you waved your hand in dismissal.

“its no biggie, hella safer than Harry and I’s first couple dates, have fun, and keep to the sidewalks”

“Thanks, mom, love you dad” Arella beamed, running to hug Harry quickly before grabbing her jacket and walking out of the house with Draco, hands locked together between them.

“well….that wasn’t so bad was it?” Ben chirped, rubbing Mals shoulder as she blankly stared a the wall “Mal?”

“no” she laughed, rubbing her face “just more shocking than anything” she stood and turned around, giving Ben a kiss “let's go home shall we, i’ll text Draco to tell me when they’re done so we can pick em up” you and Harry nodded, waving the royal couple goodbye.

You and Harry stood in silence for a few moments, before you turned to harry with a small smile on your face “that went well” you chirped, leaning up and pressing a chaste kiss to Harry's lips.

“MOM” Jason screamed from upstairs, bounding out of his room, eyes teary and his face red “DAMIAN PUSHED ME! “NO I DININ MAMA HES LYING!” you and Harry sighed, smiling at each other and walking to the twins.

“Alright alright, let's get that cheek looked at huh baby?”

---end~(I loved writing this X3)--

Supportive parents harry and (y/n) are supportive!

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@rintheemolion​

[thecleverdame]

The Oath - 15

Parings: Dark!Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Story Master List

Summary: After an unsuccessful escape attempt, the reader finds herself taken as a spoil of war. She ends up in the bed of a ruthless Alpha, the son of John Winchester, leader of the kingdom of Gilead. She struggles to conceal her true identity and navigate a society where being an Omega means nothing more than serving at the pleasure of powerful men.

Warnings: non-con, sexual assault, rape, attempted suicide, sexual slavery, branding, torture, ownership, voyeurism, anal play, smut, violence, and murder.

Sam is dark in this story. If any of the warnings are triggers for you, I would suggest skipping this one. Please read and heed all the warnings.

Beta: ilikaicalie

Support my Patreon and get access to exclusive stories.  CLICK HERE

-

No matter how long you stare at the bite on your neck, it’s still hard to believe it’s real. 

Sam claimed you. 

Sam Winchester claimed you. 

Adding to your humiliation is the fact that you asked for this. Begged him to bite you, begged him to do a lot of other unspeakable things that make you blush in the light of day. That’s not remotely fair. To be an Omega in the bed of an Alpha, your Alpha, during his rut...you would have asked for anything in that state. 

Your body is a map of his rut. Even two days afterward you’re covered in bite marks and bruises. Handprints on your arms and around your wrists where he held you down as you pleaded for it harder. 

God help you. You’re all in now. Any thought of ever going back to your own family has been eradicated. The last vestiges of hope have drained away.  Even if by some miracle you were able to escape, or your father won the war, you could never stay away from him. You’re bound for the rest of your life and you’ll die without him. 

You are his and you’ve decided for your own sanity that you’ll play the part until you truly forget who you were. It’s time to give in. Clinging to false hope can only serve to bring devastation when the fairy tale ending never comes. There’s no way out. So you have to be all in. 

John is in the camp. His men have joined up with Sam and Deans to form a massive army. You can hear the commotion from outside the tent, feeling sick at the thought of having to meet him. 

You’ve heard the tales of John Winchester for years. It’s easy to think that men with his reputation are often blown out of proportion, but you fear all those stories were accurate. The tales of cruelty were indeed rooted in truth.

That evening several women come to assist you in getting ready. One braids small strips of your hair, pinning it atop your head while the other laces up an intricate dress the likes of which you haven’t seen since you were a proper princess. Sam watches stoically from the corner as they flit around, nervous and desperate to have you up to his standards. 

“Make sure to leave some of her hair down. Cover the bite,” he instructs. The young woman combing your hair jumps out of her skin when he speaks. 

“Of course, my lord.” She smooths the hair into waves around your shoulders, arranging it just so. You won’t be able to move without fear of undoing her handiwork. 

He hasn’t said much in the last few days, more quiet than usual. Studying you with unnerving intensity. It’s like he’s waiting for changes. As if he thinks his bite will trigger some dramatic physical metamorphosis that will happen right before his eyes. 

With a final cinch, your dress is fitted and the woman at your back takes a step away, bowing her head. 

“Would you like to inspect her up close before we take our leave?”

“Yes.” Sam stands up, both women scurrying backwards to put as much room between them and him as possible. He makes a circle around you, nodding slowly. “You’ve done well. You may both go.”

They’re out of the tent in a dash, allowing you more freedom to speak to him. He doesn’t mind your familiarity, but you’re sure to question when no one else is around. 

“Why am I wearing this dress?” you ask. You’ve got a good idea but you want to hear him say it. 

“We’re having dinner with my family. You need to look your best.” He places a hand on your shoulder, guiding you back to the same mirror you stare into every morning. This mirror has seen more tears and whispered prayer than any other in existence. “You’re beautiful, but I needed you to look polished tonight. Representative of the prize that you are.” 

He stands behind you as you both stare at your reflection as he places a hand on top of each shoulder. This is a woman you never thought you’d see again. Not only clean but composed. Your hair is wonderfully intricate, the top half of your hair braided and looped around the crown of your head. The dress is immaculate and your cheeks a rosy pink. 

Perhaps his instincts are correct. Over the months since your capture, you’ve looked thinner and paler as time dragged on. But in the two days since his claim you’ve flourished. Brought back to life the Omega inside that’s nourished in a way you’ve never been before. Despite the circumstances, belonging to an Alpha is what you’ve been craving for years, there’s no denying it. 

“I’m scared,” you whisper, watching his reflection. He meets your eyes, unwavering as his fingers curl into the meat of your shoulders. 

“Don’t be scared, little bird. My father is intimidating to most people. But do you know the one thing John Winchester is scared of?”

You don’t have to ponder the question long before the answer becomes clear. 

“You?”

“Me.” He breaks into a joyless smile. One hand drops down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. “And he should be.”

-

Sam escorts you across the camp with a half dozen men trailing behind him. He doesn’t normally have a small army of personal bodyguards. It’s unclear if this is because of you or to protect him. But it is clear that the amassing of army’s has changed things. There’s an intensity in the camp that you can feel, it’s hanging heavy in the air as you pass through. 

The sight of an Omega draws attention. And Sam Winchester’s makes for a full out spectacle. You can feel the shame and fear make your face red as you scamper beside him. Even though it’s unlikely, there’s always the possibility that someone could recognize you. The wrong person could point and shout out your true identity. 

There’s a huge tent at the center of the camp at least twice the size of Sam’s. It appears to have been set up specially for dinner. There’s not much inside save for a long dining table lined with chairs. 

You take a seat across from Greta as Sam and Dean launch into their own conversation. She’s not as perky as the last time you saw her. There’s a limpness, a dullness in her eyes that tells you the fight is almost gone. 

“Hello.” You offer a hesitant smile.

“Hello.” She stares blankly at you. 

“Greta,” you whisper, reaching across the table to take her hand. “Are you alright?”

“I am alive,” she answers, tears pooling in her eyes. 

The two Alphas move away from the table for a stronger drink from the sideboard. You take the opportunity to pour Greta a glass of wine, then yourself. She takes it from you with a weak thank you. 

“Has something happened?” you whisper, checking to make sure that the men are otherwise occupied. “Something more than…”

Imprisonment and assault. 

“No,” she takes a sip from her glass. “It’s been a lot of the same. I’ve realized that you were right from the beginning. Being so obstinate has only made the situation worse.” 

You want to ask exactly what she means by “worse” but you’re not sure you can handle the answer. She’s no longer shackled. It appears she finally stopped running away or maybe it’s just for show. Turning up to dinner with John Winchester with a chain around her ankle would make Dean appear weak. 

“Maybe we’ll have a chance to talk later.” Trying to remain upbeat, you pat the top of her hand. “Drink some more, it will help.”

Without any sort of introduction, John enters the tent with a woman on his arm. A few men walk in behind him, fanning out to stand guard by the doorway. 

You stand up without even thinking about it. Greta jumps to her feet as well. Looking to Sam you try to deduce if you should go to him or stay put where you are. After all, in Gilead, you’re a strange combination of high social status and half a person. 

You’re relieved when Sam gestures for you to come to him. He and Dean both greet their father while you and Greta watch from a step behind. John looks tired, almost unassuming, but there’s a flicker in his eyes that gives away his lethality. 

He and Dean embrace with a hug that looks genuine. And then Dean turns to the blonde woman beside John for a kiss and you understand, this is their mother. Sam has mentioned her offhandedly but you assumed she was dead. She’s standing just behind John with an unnerving smile. 

When it’s Sam’s turn he and John share a more uncomfortable version of Dean’s greeting. Neither of them wants to touch the other. When it’s his mother’s turn he embraces her with the same vigor as his brother. While Sam is devoid of telltale warmth that a mother and son share, he still attempts to show her some affection. 

“You both look well.” John looks from Dean to Sam, seemingly pleased with what he sees. “Very good.”

John looks from Greta to you as if just noticing you for the first time, appraising you from head to toe before chuckling with a nod to both his sons. 

“You both have one. That’s good. Having an Omega waiting keeps you clear-headed on the battlefield.”

“Yes it does,” Dean agrees with a genuine grin. In stark contrast to Sam’s disdain, Dean seems to bask in their father’s approval.

“Please, let’s eat. I know we’re all hungry and we’ve got plenty of time to catch up.”

Everyone takes their place. You’re nervous you might say or do the wrong thing, so you fold your hands into your lap and try to draw as little attention as possible. The soldiers stationed along the wall stare dead ahead as if transfixed, never looking at anyone or anything. Ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. 

Sam refills your wine glass without so much as a look and settles it for the evening. 

Everyone eats and drinks as the evening wears on. You know it’s coming but you’re taken off guard when John hones in on you. 

“Why don’t you tell us where you found your Omega, Sam? She’s a rare find.”

“She’s very beautiful.” Mary stares at you blankly, devoid of any real emotion. 

“Yes, she is.” Sam turns to you, reaching to brush the hair away from your neck, exposing his bite. You stare at him in horror while the table goes silent. It takes a moment for everyone to understand what they’re seeing. All conversations stop, even the sounds of plates and cutlery are silenced at this revelation. 

John Winchester clears his throat and your eyes flutter shut, scarcely able to handle what unknown comes next. 

“She’s claimed?”

“She is.”

“By you?”

“Yes.” 

John takes a breath, both fists resting on the table curl tight until his knuckles go white. 

“What the hell is wrong with you, boy? Do you know what this means? What I have to do?” His face is red, and you wonder if he’ll order you both dead here and now. 

“Tell me, what do you have to do?” Sam’s antagonizing him, a grin pulling at his mouth. 

“Sam,” his mother breathes, looking in horror from her husband to her son. “What have you done?”

“Were you looking for a fight? Is that what you want, for me to take her from you?”

“You’re not taking her,” Sam spits back. 

“Yes, I am.”John points at you and it’s all you can do not to burst into tears. “I can’t let you keep her. What example would that set? The laws are centuries old. This is what we’re fighting to uphold.”

“Consider this an exception.” Sam shrugs, picking up his wine glass. 

“There are no exceptions.”

“Then why don’t you come over here and try to take her then?” Sam offers, eyes narrowing with the challenge. “Drag me off to the chopping block while you’re at it.”

“Why do you always have to undermine me!” John yells, standing up. 

“She’s my mate.” Sam stands too, slow and deliberate. “If you try to take her, I’ll kill you. If you send men to take her, I’ll kill them and then I’ll come for you.”

“Sam,” John pauses pounding the table with a single fist. “How am I expected to enforce the laws if my own son doesn’t follow them?” 

“You’ll think of something.”

“You are to be an example to the men!”

“I am no man. You said that yourself. Don’t think for a moment that I need your permission for anything. I do all that you ask of me. I was loyal until the day I died and in return, I take what I want. When and how I want it.” 

They stare at each other, each waiting for the other to back down. 

“You let him do this?” John turns to Dean who holds both hands up.

“I know it’s been a while since we’ve all been together, but I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that no one lets Sam do anything. This isn’t on me.”

“No, it’s not. It was my decision.” Sam adds. “She’s been with me since Eden and now she’ll stay with me.” 

Sam relaxes, his display of dominance is over because he was the winner before this even started. 

“Soul or not, you’ve always been hard-headed.” John sinks back into his seat, letting out a sigh. “Tell me Omega, what’s your name.”

You sit up in horror, looking from John to Sam. 

“I, um-”. You clasp your shaking hands together in your lap. “Sparrow.”

“What an unusual name,” Mary chimes in. 

“Yes,” you agree looking down at your lap. 

“Tell us Sparrow,” John continues. “How many Alpha were you with before my son?”

“None sir,” you answer immediately, wishing you could crawl under the table. 

“That’s something I suppose.” John composes himself sitting back and patting his wife’s hand. “If there was ever a reason for a break in tradition, Sam is it. But I don’t want anyone else thinking they can get away with-”

“I don’t think that’s a problem,” Dean interjects. “If you like we’ll make sure to make an example of the next man who abuses his privileges with an Omega.” 

John seems to accept this and it’s as if the confrontation never happened. Suddenly they’re talking about heading south and the warmer weather.

That’s it. It was that simple. Sam was right, John is afraid of him. 

The night drags on. Dean and John tell stories of their time apart. While Sam doesn’t engage, he seems amused with a few of Dean’s embellished tales. It’s just as dinner is coming to an end that you sense the mood shifting. 

John is now focused on Greta, watching her while he listens to his son ramble on about sword makers and strategies. When Dean finishes his story John tips back the last of his wine. 

“I think it’s time to take care of our most important business, don’t you?” 

Both Sam and Dean agree, making it clear they all know what’s coming next. John raises a hand and there’s a commotion outside the tent. Two soldiers bring a man inside, he’s bloodied and beaten, limp, feet dragging in the dirt. 

You look to Sam and then back to the man, sure that you don’t want to witness whatever is about to happen. 

“Oh my God,” Greta starts to stand and Dean grabs her arm to keep her in her seat. “Father!”

Your heart drops into your stomach. Her father, the renowned General Kaiser. He’s one of your father’s most trusted confidants. You feel terror for her as she begins to cry, looking wildly around the table. 

“Please,” she begs, grabbing at Dean’s sleeve. “Don’t hurt him please, I’ll do anything.”

“Be quiet,” he says with a gentleness that you’ve never seen before. “Stay in your seat.” 

This man knows you, in fact, he’s known you since you were a little girl. Kaiser lifts his head, smiling when he sees his daughter. 

“It’s going to be alright Greta. Do what you’re told.” 

Kaiser then looks from John to Dean to Sam and then his gaze falls on you. It’s a split second before recognition sets in. His eyes dart from Sam to the exposed claiming bite on your neck. He understands almost immediately and forces himself to look away. 

“We need information.” John begins, getting to his feet. “This man has the power to secure the war. Everything we need, the general knows. Regrettably, our honored guest has been less than forthcoming. So tonight we’re going to try a new tactic. Sam, take care of Greta for us, will you?”

“No,” you whisper under your breath as Sam makes his way around the table. 

Sam takes her by the arm, pulling her out of her seat. Dean simply watches, concealing any and all reactions. 

“Take your hands off her!” Kaiser shouts. It breaks your heart, he’s been beaten within an inch of his life. There’s no way out for him and yet he tries to protect his daughter. 

“He will take his hands off her when you give us something we can work with. Where are Benedict's men being moved to? Tell us the rally point. If you don’t, my son will slit your daughter’s throat.” 

“I don’t know,” Kaiser answers, a tear sliding down her cheek as he stares at Greta. 

“How about the location of his advisors? I was told they were being kept together for protection. Or his children? Anything we can use.”

You stop breathing, chest tightening, heart thumping hard and fast. This is it. The end. All he has to do to save Greta is point a finger at you. Sam tenses as if he can feel your panic and gives you a questioning glance.  Kaiser looks at you for a fleeting second, then looks up as if sending up a final prayer. 

“I am loyal to my king until I die.” Kaiser holds his bloodied head high, the muscles of his neck shaking. 

“You are an idiot.” John shakes his head. Instead of looking to Sam, John turns to Dean. “Do you want to keep her longer?”

Yes, please yes. Please. 

“Sure,” Dean shrugs. 

“Very well.” John moves with a speed you wouldn’t have thought him capable of. In one move he unsheaths his sword and drives it deep into Kaiser's gut. Twisting as he presses forward. 

Greta screams, reaching out for her father. Sam lets her go and she crumples to the floor watching in agony as her father dies a slow, violent death right before her eyes. 

You’re out of the chair without a second thought, scurrying around the table and dropping to your knees to hold Greta in your arms. She howls as you rock her back and forth, listening to the last sounds of her father gasping for breath. 

And when it’s over you sit there, clinging to her and squeezing your own eyes shut. 

“It needed to be done,” John’s voice explains. “The longer we let him live, the weaker we looked. People need to know we don’t hold prisoners. They’re of use or they’re dead.”

“Understood,” Dean agrees. 

It seems like a lifetime before Sam pries you away from Greta. You’re in a stupor as he lifts you up and carries you away from the gruesome scene. 

Later That Evening

“May I ask you a question?” you ask. 

Neither of you has said much since you returned from dinner. You’ve been stuck in your own head replaying the events over and over.  He looks up from his book. Much to your surprise, he gets up from his chair and walks over to the end of the bed.

“What is it?”

“Your mother...I didn’t know she was alive. Why haven’t you or Dean mentioned her?”

“That’s a question with a long answer.” He holds your gaze. “She was gone for a long time. My father will tell you he thought she was possessed. But the truth is that she was disloyal,  undermining his orders. One morning she disappeared and we didn’t see her for a year. When she did come back she wasn’t our mother anymore. He did something to her, broke her. And since then she’s just a stranger with our mother’s face.”

“That's awful.”

“It is what it is.” Sam shrugs, shaking away the idea of his mother. 

You watch him thoughtfully, this man who’s now your Alpha. 

“You told your father you would kill him if he came for me. Did you mean that?”

“Yes.”

“And if your father had told you to, would you have killed Greta?”

“Yes.”

If you could just tell him the truth, what a burden would be lifted. You long to whisper your fears to someone. That you’re terrified that one day you’ll watch as your own father is slaughtered in front of you. That Sam will discover your true identity and turn on you himself. The very notion of your own Alpha turning his back on you makes you want to crawl under the covers and cower in fear. 

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, looking down at your trembling hands. 

“This existence, my life...your life, it’s brutal. I don’t know how to come to terms with what happened. A man was killed in front of me. I can’t reconcile that...I don’t want it to be real.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about that. Before this war is over there is no end to the violent things you’ll see.”

Normally he would dismiss you as weak or overly concerned for the welfare of others. Perhaps for the first time he seems to care that you’re upset. 

Tonight has proven one thing above all others. He takes his claim seriously, having you and keeping you for himself. He wants to be your Alpha, gets satisfaction from it. That’s easier to play into while lulling yourself into a false sense of security. 

“Will you keep me safe?”

“Yes,” he replies. 

His hand cups the cut of your jaw, a thumb slowly stroking across your cheek. He’s looking at you but lost somewhere in thought. His touch has never been soft, nothing close to tenderness. But as he cradles your face you see a glimpse of the man left inside him. 

You wrap your hand around his wrist, allowing yourself to sink into the moment. To let go of your old identity and forge a new one. 

His concentration snaps as his free hand moves to your knee and then up a thigh. He doesn’t stop until his fingers push into your folds to find slick at your core.

Giving a little moan, you spread yourself open for him as he withdraws his hand. 

“Are you always wet?”

Biting your lip you glance away sheepishly. 

“It’s your scent. When you’re near me I...I can’t help it.”

“I wouldn’t want you to.” He tugs at your slip. “Take this off.” 

You yank it over your head, lay back as he crawls over you, shedding his shirt, then his trousers. 

He buries his head between your thighs, shoving his tongue into your cunt as you writhe up against his chin. Both hands press down on your hips to hold you in place as his tongue drags upward from your wet hole to the swollen bud of your clit. Without warning he sucks at the most sensitive part of you. 

Two hands curl into his hair, yanking at his scalp but at the same time pushing his face into your pussy. It's a cacophony of sensations, a pleasure bordering on too much. He grunts and groans, giving you a brief reprieve, delving back down to shove inside you before returning to send you star-bound with the caress of his mouth. 

In moments such as this you forget where you are. What you just witnessed or the trials to come. Here in this bed, in this moment all is forgotten except Sam. 

Heavy and pitching, you’re at the edge of the abyss, ready to plunge headfirst over the edge. 

“Sam,” you gulp. 

You’ve never dared call him by his name before but it falls from your lips without a second thought. 

He moves fast, mouth leaving your cunt as he lunges upward to take your mouth. The spiced taste of yourself on his tongue is proof of his efforts as you kiss him back. Hands curl into the flesh of his back leaving tiny crescent moons across the skin. 

A hand wedges between your bellies, grabbing his cock to line himself up. The first thrust is intense. You easily take him in to the root, wet and needy, opening up as you have a hundred times before. The moment he finds his depth, you cum with a yelp. 

For a moment there’s nothing, then a burst of white before your eyes and the feeling of pulsing around him. 

He fucks you through it, slow and steady until you’re nothing but a twitching body underneath him. It’s a dizzy gratification and you swim in it until you feel his knot swell. He ruts deep and then fills you with seed. You lie under him for as long as it takes his knot to recede, listening to the sound of his breath, feeling the thump of his heart against your chest.

It must be the universe’s cruel joke that you’re so well matched. This sort of pleasure is meant for good people, people who fall in love and have a sweeping romance. 

And yet you find yourself bathing in the scent and heat of him, despite the man you know him to be. He may be dark and cruel and heartless, but he is yours. You know that now more than ever.