#please for the love of god return library books

[realgoogleclassroom]

just remember to return your books on time!

Me remembering the library is free and using it all the time is actually beneficial to it and has no drawbacks whatsoever

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: Simply Shady I*

Summary: The following events of Joe changing up his hair, along with both you and your fiance gearing up for the start of the season.

(Part 1 to - Part 2)

Warnings: Fluff, Smut (male receiving oral)

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine Universe: Misc.

August 1st, 2024 - First day of pads at camp

I was woken up in a way that I would usually love, but the fact that it was insanely early made me more annoyed than anything.

“Mph. Not now Joe.” - you mumbled

He didn't say anything in return, and the slow movements of his hips grinding into my behind kept going.

Joe’s body was pressed flesh against me. His chest to my back and his crotch to my ass. Because he was rubbing himself into me, I thought he was awake. But as I froze up in shock, I heard a snore leave Joe’s lips.

He's asleep. He’s asleep and grinding into me.

As Joe continued his movements in his sleep, my mind went wild. Throughout the dirty thoughts, I remembered a conversation that Joe and I had a couple of weeks ago.

Joe had asked me if I'd ever give him head while he was asleep, a different way to wake him up if I was comfortable doing it. I had said yes, that I would, but there was never a day where I woke up first since that conversation.

Today, though, was a perfect chance to try it out.

After deciding that I was going to suck him off while he was still sleeping, I slowly and quietly scooted away from him. Joe had always been a deep sleeper, so it was easy for me to pull the covers off of him and lightly shove him onto his back.

I couldn't help but sit there and admire him. Joe looked like a wet dream, and he was all mine. My personal 220 pounds of pure sexiness.

Joe was wearing nothing but his black boxers, and my mouth watered as I stared at his toned torso, sculpted chest, and perfect arms.

This off-season, one of Joe’s workout priorities was to gain weight to be bigger and stronger by the time football season came around.

He achieved that completely, and the outcome was one of the hottest states of his body that I had ever seen. Don’t get me wrong, as his partner, I've never not thought he was the most attractive man on the planet, but I love it when he beefs up.

I believe it’s because it reminds me of how he looked when I first fell in love with him, back when we were both freshmen at LSU.

——

Flashback - 2018 - LSU

“This date is awful! Please, please, please come pick me up?” - Lyla

After accepting a phone call from my best friend, she enlightened me that she was currently in the bathroom of the restaurant where she was on a date. She went on to say that her date was a weirdo and nothing like how he was over texts.

It was later in the evening, and I was studying in the library for my first big test of the semester, but I had to save my girl.

Still on the phone with her, I grabbed my laptop and textbooks super fast before darting out of the library.

Lyla was still ranting on the phone, telling me to please hurry, and I was focusing hard on not dropping my belongings. As I rounded the corner of the sidewalk, I looked over at the parking lot, trying to remember where I parked my car.

Since my eyes weren't on where I was walking, I gasped when I smacked into a hard body, dropping everything I was holding and my phone.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

“No. No. I should be.” - you

I immediately lept down and started to grab my things, not paying attention to the person that I just ran into. It sounded like a man, and I didn't exactly have time to put up with a college male right now.

To my surprise, though, he crouched down as well, stacking up some of my books as I focused on making sure my laptop screen wasn't broken.

After seeing that it was fine, I finally looked up at the man crouched down next to me who was holding my stuff.

My mouth dropped open, and my eyes widened.

Joe Burrow.

He was the starting quarterback for the football team, and because he had just transferred from Ohio State, his name was known.

I had only seen a couple of blurry pictures of him before as I listened to a couple of my guy friends rant about the incoming QB. In pictures, I wasn't exactly attracted to him, but seeing him in front of me right now, I completely understood why girls all around campus were obsessed with him.

“Are you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost.” - Joe chuckled

My cheeks turned red when I realized I had zoned out staring at him. This cannot be happening right now.

“I- I'm fine. I just wasn't expecting you.” - you

Joe cocked his head to the side, not exactly understanding. To him, he was a normal guy who just loved to play football. He didn't exactly love all of the publicity.

In the end, he shrugged and looked down at my books that were in his hands. Most of them were for classes, but a couple were for my personal reading.

“In Plain Sight? Do you believe in aliens?” - Joe

I nodded my head with a soft smile on my face, completely in shock that I was talking about aliens with Joe Burrow.

“That’s cool. I do, too. My friends all say that I'm crazy to believe in them. Oh, I’m Joe, by the way.” - Joe

Joe shifted my belongings into one arm before reaching out with his now free hand. I reached out, too, putting my hand in his and shaking it.

“I know who you are. I'm y/n.” - you

“That’s a pretty name. Only fitting for a pretty girl, though.” - Joe winked

My stomach dropped, and reality hit. He’s a jock college football player. Only one thing on his mind.

I stood up and recollected everything into my arms, and Joe immediately noticed my change in body language. When he handed me my books, I noticed that the pretty smile had dropped from his face, a disconcerted look left in its place.

“Did I say something wrong?” - Joe

“No. I just need to get out of here. Thanks for the help, it was lovely to meet you, Joe.” - you

I started speeding down the sidewalk once again, but Joe called out for me to wait. Oh, fuck this.

“You forgot your phone!” - Joe

Mentally cursing myself, I turned around and walked back up to Joe. He was fully standing up now, and he towered over me.

“Thanks..” - you

“You’re welcome. Maybe I'll see you around campus?” - Joe grinned

I looked up at the stupid smile on his face and wanted to claw my eyes out. Why is he so cute? He’s just wearing athletic shorts and a Looney Tunes sweatshirt, but he looks perfect.

“Mmm. Probably not. I'm more into school than all of the partying.” - you

“I’m not into partying either. I’m taking all online classes, so unless I'm at football practice or working out, I'm usually at my apartment.” - Joe

Why are his stupidly perfect lips still moving?

“Okay? Thanks again. Bye.” - you

I started walking off again, and this time he didn't stop me. Once I got into my car, I laid my head back against the headrest with a deep sigh. That did not just fucking happen.

Why was he being so oddly persistent?

Probably looking for a quick fuck.

“That’s what they all want.” - you whispered aloud

I was lost in my thoughts. The thoughts being the image of the pretty quarterback crouched down while examining my alien book, the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkling up when he smiled.

God he was so-

My train of thought abruptly stopped when I heard a quiet voice. I looked around, confused, before my eyes landed on my phone. The call with Lyla was very much still going.

I remembered why I was rushing in the first place, and my eyes went wide. After quickly grabbing my phone to my ear, I realized just how crazy I was about to sound.

“Lyla, you will never guess what just happened. It sounds crazy.” - you

“You can tell me after you fucking pick me up!! Come on!” - Lyla

——

Flashback - still 2018 - LSU

“Are you excited to watch your man play?” - Lyla squealed

I rolled my eyes at her words. We were currently sitting down in our seats for the first home game of the season.

My run-in with Joe was months ago, and I hadn’t seen him since then, not like I expected that I would, but Lyla swore up and down he was into me.

She hadn't let the interaction go, and when I perked up at the mention that she had an extra ticket for the game since her boyfriend bailed, it only made it worse.

“You know he's still single. Maybe he's waiting to see you again.” - Lyla bumped your shoulder

I stared at her for a few seconds, narrowing my eyes at her dumb assessment. There was no possible way that was true.

Joe and I were strangers. We only knew each other’s names and the fact that we both believed in aliens. To be frank, he's probably long forgotten about our encounter. There were girls constantly throwing themselves at him, so why would he pay attention to me?

Up til the team ran out, Lyla was talking about nothing but Joe.

“Lyla. He doesn't even know who I am. He's probably long forgotten about bumping into me. Even if I wanted to say something to him, which I don't.” - you

“Sure. We’ll see if that changes after you watch him play. Those football pants might do something to you.” - Lyla

“Stop saying things that make me roll my eyes. I'm gonna get a headache.” - you

“Or… stop fighting the fact that he was into you and one thousand percent recognize you if he saw you again. He called you pretty! And when you freaked out, he immediately got worried that he said something wrong.” - Lyla

Before I could say anything, the team ran out. Lyla immediately jumped up and yanked me up with her. I have to admit, the electricity running through Death Valley as everyone was on their feet cheering was an adrenaline rush. I couldn't help but jump and cheer as well.

My eyes landed on Joe fairly easily as he was leading the pack as QB1. And for a split second, he looked at me too. His eyes were scanning the crowd before looking away, but he did a double-take.

Unfortunately, Lyla noticed and shook my shoulder. We were in the bottom row of our section, so there was a chance he was looking at someone behind me. Right?

-

Joe’s POV - Same flashback

While running out with the team, I looked over at the crowd just to see how big it was. It was my first home game as a Tiger, and Death Valley already felt like home.

As I looked around, my eyes scanned over a familiar face. I looked away and realized, so I did a double take to make sure I wasn't seeing things or my mind was playing tricks on me.

It was her.

My eyes weren't deceiving me. It was y/n. The beautiful girl I had the lovely opportunity of gracing paths with. Quite literally.

When I first bumped into y/n, it felt like everything around me disappeared and that it was just us on that sidewalk, much like how it felt as our eyes met through the crowd.

I only knew this girl's name, but I’ll never forget how I felt crouched down on that sidewalk with her. Everything felt right. Like everything was still and at peace.

I never thought I’d see her again with how quickly she took off running after I called her pretty. Looking back, I could see why it freaked her out. Our personalities were meshing super well before I said that, and I know the reputation of college athletes. She probably thought I was trying to get in her pants, only to be gone by the morning.

I'd never been that kind of guy anyway. I had hooked up with a couple of girls while at Ohio State, but I got attached too easily and could never leave it as just a one-night stand.

Maybe I could talk to y/n more and show her that I wasn't the average college athlete fuckboy. That is if she'd even talk to me or even remember that we'd bumped into each other.

After Game - Same flashback

LSU won the game, and Joe was impressive, to say the least. Lyla nudged me after every good play he made, making sure to call him ‘my man’ when she was talking about him.

Everyone was filing out of the stadium, but Lyla and I stayed back to take a couple of pictures and wait for the crowd to die down.

We had our backs to the field, our noses buried in our phones as we looked at a few selfies we had taken.

“Okay, let me get a good pic of the field.” - Lyla

I wasn't exactly paying attention to her, but I noticed that she had turned around to take a picture of the stadium. When she did, though, she paused and gasped.

“Y/N… turn around.” - you

Sighing as I slipped my phone into my pocket, I turned around. My eyes went wide when I looked down and saw what - or who - was standing on the grass looking up at us.

“Hi.” - Joe smiled

Joe was in regular clothes now since the game had been over for about thirty minutes. He was all that was left on the field other than the training staff cleaning up and a few janitors.

“Hi?” - you smiled back

“Did you enjoy that game? I know you said you don't go out, so this must be a different environment for you.” - Joe

“It was so fun. You're crazy good, by the way. I'm impressed.” - you

Joe felt his cheeks heat up a little at the compliment, and it didn't go unnoticed by me. I saw the way his face turned a little pink.

“Thank you. It was awesome to see your pretty face again. That might be your queue to runaway, but that's how I feel.” - Joe smiled

My stomach filled with butterflies at him calling me pretty again, along with a feeling of slight embarrassment from his joke. Something about him making light of the situation gave me closure, though. He wasn't looking for a hookup.

“You’re pretty good-looking yourself.” - you grinned

“I’m glad you think so, y/n. But I didn't just walk over here to call you pretty again. I wanted to know if you'd like to have dinner with me tonight. I’d love to get to know you.” - Joe

I looked at Joe’s gorgeous face in shock before looking over at Lyla. She nodded and bumped my elbow with hers.

“I can get home just fine by myself. You get him, tiger.” - Lyle whispered

Looking back down at Joe, he looked up at me with hopeful eyes. His gaze shifted to Lyla, trying to read her expression before looking back at me.

“Sure. I'd love to have dinner tonight.” - you

Joe’s anxious expression broke into a huge smile, the nervous feeling in his stomach immediately going away. You said yes.

“Okay, great. Can I get your number? You know, so I can text you when I'm pulling around to pick you up.” - Joe

I nodded my head, the smile never leaving my face, and handed Joe my phone for him to put his number in. Once he was done, he handed me his phone to do the same.

After handing his phone back to him, Joe nervously rocked back and forth on his feet. Saying he was giddy was an understatement.

“So I’ll see you in a little bit?” - you

“Yup. It’s a date.” - Joe smiled

As soon as the words left his lips, he spun on the balls of his heels and walked back toward the tunnel. I slowly turned my head to Lyla, my eyes wide, and my jaw dropped.

“That did not just happen.” - you

“Oh, it so did! And he walked over to you. He initiated all of that. Not to mention, he just said that dinner with him tonight was a date. Y/N, that's your man!!” - Lyla

We both grabbed each other’s forearms, jumping up and down and giggling at the fact that Joe, a desirable starting college quarterback, just asked me on a date. Out of all of the girls who wanted him, Joe chose me, the girl he bumped into once.

——

Back to present day

Obviously, the first date went amazingly, and Joe and I have been together ever since. Joe always says that he knew I was the one when he first laid eyes on me, and the fact that his body immediately relaxed on that sidewalk was a sign of things to come. I was home to Joe, sometimes described as his everything.

Since the moment Joe and I started to get to know each other, he became my best friend. Well, I’d say that to everyone but Lyla. She would get a little salty if I told her that.

I remember thinking that Joe was cute the first time we crossed paths, but when he ran out of the tunnel that day, and we made eye contact, my insides melted. No other guy I had been with before was able to make me feel the way he did in that second.

Call it love at second sight.

For the rest of Joe’s time at LSU, before he graduated, we were stuck to each other at the hip, completely and utterly inseparable.

We had to do long distance for a year because I was still at LSU, and Joe got drafted by the Bengals. It was arguably the hardest year of my life.

As soon as Joe entered my life, he became the anchor that kept me grounded. I’d never been happier with someone, and we were together practically every moment that we could. So, to be living in completely different states was tough.

Once I graduated, though, I moved in with Joe. It was the house he bought with his rookie contract, and it was perfect for just the two of us. I ended up getting a marketing job in Cincinnati, just like I had planned when it was announced that Cincinnati had the first pick of the draft. Joe always told me that I didn't need a job since he was getting paid millions to play football, but I wanted to work. I didn't want to mooch off of my boyfriend.

But, a few months ago, I ended up calling it quits at that job. The workplace grew increasingly toxic under a recently hired new boss, and I found myself crumbling under the workload. Joe had been present for a few of my work-related breakdowns, and he finally put his foot down one day.

——

A few months ago

“I don't know if I can do it anymore, Joe. I feel like she's setting me up to fail.” - you

I was having yet another breakdown over work. Second time this week, and it was only Wednesday.

Joe was holding me as tight as he could, listening to every word that left my lips. We were lying on the couch, and I was cuddling on top of him, my face buried in his neck as I tried to calm down my crying. Joe had his arms wrapped around my waist, rubbing my back and kissing my head now and then. He hadn't said a word yet.

After my crying started to slow down, Joe abruptly rolled onto his side and unwrapped his arms from me. He stood up from the couch seconds later and grabbed my phone off of the end table.

“Joey? What’re you doing?” - you

“I can't do this anymore, y/n. This job is breaking you down, baby. I can't just sit here and hold you and then send you back just to have to do it again tomorrow. It hurts me to know you're hurting. I hate it.” - Joe

I stared at him dumbfounded. I knew he detested my job, but he respected my decision to go back every time.

“I’d be a terrible boyfriend to let you stay in that environment y/n.” - Joe

After sniffling a few more times and wiping my eyes and nose on the back of my sleeve, I finally spoke up.

“So what are you gonna do?” - you sniffled

“I’m calling your boss. I’ll try to remain calm, but when it comes to you, I can't control if I lose my shit. You’re the most important thing to me in the whole world, and to see you get treated like this is pissing me off.” - Joe

You could practically see steam coming out of Joe’s ears. I knew he was mad, but I didn't expect him to get this worked up. In another way, though, it made sense. I was the woman that Joe loved, and he took his responsibility of protecting me very seriously.

“What are you gonna say?” - you

“I’m telling her to put your two weeks in. Do you have two weeks of vacation days? I’m not letting you step foot in that office building.” - Joe

“You’re making me quit?? I need that job, Joe. How am I gonna pay for stuff?” - you

Joe did a massive eye roll before plopping down on the couch next to me. Here we go.

“That might just be the dumbest question you have ever asked. Baby, do you know how much money I make? It’d be stupid for you to keep that job that makes you feel like shit when your boyfriend is making millions to play football. No, you aren't mooching off of me, and I don't want to hear that. I want nothing more than to take care of you, y/n. You just have to let me.” - Joe

I stayed silent for a few moments, my anxiety and a feeling of guilt creeping in. My eyes welled up with tears again from Joe’s generosity and the fact that a bunch of fear came with it.

“I need a job, Joe.” - you mumbled

“Why? Why do you need one?” - Joe

It was gonna sound bad to say out loud, and the last thing I wanted was for Joe to think I had doubts about our relationship, but I was just being reasonable.

“What if things go south? I don't want to, and I don't think we will, but what if we break up? Then, I don't have anything to fall back on.” - you

“Are you being serious? We’re not gonna break up, baby. You’re it for me. Do I not make it obvious enough that I'm all in?” - Joe

“I know, it’s stupid. But I still worry.” - you

“You have no reason to. I'm not going anywhere, and that's a promise.” - Joe

——

Back to present day

So, that's when I finally agreed and decided to quit my job. Joe and I were able to spend a lot more time together, and we grew closer than ever before. I was putting full trust in him, and after a while, the thought wasn't scary.

I lay in bed for a while longer, just watching Joe as he slept peacefully. He just looked adorable.

My more innocent thoughts changed, though, as my eyes wandered over his perfect body once again. God, gaining weight was the best decision he's ever made.

Time to get down to business, I thought to myself.

I shoved the covers farther down the bed and gently spread Joe’s legs before kneeling in between them. After getting comfortable, I reached out for the waistband of his boxers and slowly pulled them down and over his perfect butt.

Joe stirred once he was fully exposed, probably feeling a draft but not fully waking up. Once he stopped moving around, I reached and wrapped my hand around his semi-erect cock. He always woke up a little hard, and right now, I was silently grateful for that.

Slowly pumping his length, I felt Joe harden and grow in my hand, and yet his face still showed zero tension. Once his erection leveled up to fully erect, I removed my hand from his length and slowly leaned down.

I wrapped my lips around his tip, watching his face the entire time I slowly inched my mouth down his dick. Joe let out a little whimper when his tip hit the back of my throat, but as I watched him, I noticed that he was still asleep.

After that, I doubled my efforts in hopes of drawing another sound from his lips while he was still out cold, and it was easier than expected. I sucked on his length as I bobbed my head, trying to give him the sloppiest head that I could conjure up. Joe would let out a little whimper or a quiet moan now and then, and I could tell he was close to waking up.

A minute later, with my eyes glued to Joe’s face, his mouth dropped open, and he moaned out. Louder than before. He’s awake.

Joe’s eyes fluttered open, and when he looked down to see my mouth around his cock, his eyes went wide, and he sat up straight. Joe’s cock got impossibly harder at the sight, and he buried a hand in my hair when I pulled off of him with a pop. I immediately wrapped my hand around him, stroking him fast with a grin on my face.

“Morning, Joey.” - you grinned

“Holy fuck, baby. I- I… fuck, I can't.” - Joe moaned

His raspy morning voice only made the experience hotter, so I took his length back into my mouth. Joe’s head was thrown back, and his grip on my hair got tighter. He's so close.

Joe continued to moan as I sucked him, his thoughts going crazy at the fact that he just woke up to me giving him head.

“So hot, baby. Oh god.” - Joe whimpered

A few moments later, Joe only started getting louder, his built chest heaving as he panted.

“Fuck, I'm cumming.” - Joe moaned

Joe held my head down and bucked his hips up, stilling as he exploded in my mouth.

“Fuck- fuck- fuck.” - Joe

It took a few minutes for Joe to gain his composure back, along with his breath, and I pulled off of his length. I rolled over back into my spot and cuddled up to Joe, pulling him into my chest.

I went to play with his hair before awkwardly stopping, remembering the fact that his curls were no longer there. Joe had recently changed up his hairstyle, and though it was hard to get used to at first, I loved it.

——

Flashback to a couple of months ago

“Hey.” - you

“Hi, baby.” - Joe

I was currently driving home from doing a few errands, including picking up dinner for Joe and me since he said we should just eat at home, though he didn't feel like cooking.

“Whatcha doing?” - you

“Nothing much. I'm looking at clothes for game day fits.” - Joe

“Sounds like fun!” - you enthused

Joe went silent for a couple of seconds before letting out a sigh, my eyes narrowing at his change of attitude.

“Sure. When are you gonna be home? I miss you, and I have a surprise for you.” - Joe

“You miss me? It’s only been a couple of hours, Joey. And I'm pulling onto our road right now. What'd you say about a surprise?” - you

“I have one for you.” - Joe

“Oooo. Am I gonna like it?” - you

Joe was freaking out just a little bit. Sure, what he did was what he wanted, but he was realizing now that it was a little impulsive, and he was worried about what you would think of it.

“Uh. Hopefully.” - Joe chuckled

We ended the call a few minutes later since I was literally in our garage. After grabbing all of the bags that I could, I walked into the kitchen through the mudroom. Joe was sitting at the counter, a grin forming on his lips when he saw me.

“Hey, gorgeous.” - Joe smiled

After placing the bags down and setting the food in front of Joe, I walked back around to the other end and up to him. Joe swiveled the barstool around, opening his arms for me once I stepped between his spread legs. He pulled me into a hug, and my head fell onto his shoulder, Joe’s arms wrapped tightly around my waist.

“Hi, handsome.” - you mumbled into his neck

Joe stayed silent for a few moments, rubbing his big hands over my back before pulling away and doing the same to my hips.

“Is there anything left in the car?” - Joe

“Just a couple more bags. I can get them, though.” - you

I went to turn around and head back for the mudroom, but Joe grabbed my arm and pulled me back to him.

“How about you get dinner out of the bags, and I’ll go get ‘em? - Joe

“Alright.” - you smiled

Joe pecked my lips before getting off the barstool. I watched him walk away till he disappeared from my sight, my eyes lingering on his ass for a few seconds before I looked away with a giggle.

-

Thirty minutes later, Joe and I had just finished dinner when I realized something. Ever since I got home, Joe’s been wearing a hat with his hood up over the top of it.

Joe cleared his throat to say something, looking over at me to see that I already had my eyes narrowed and staring at him.

“What?” - Joe chuckled

“Why do you have a hat on and your hood up? New questionable fashion choice?” - you

I giggled when he rolled his eyes, but his tone quickly switched back to serious.

“That’s what I was about to tell you. Close your eyes.” - Joe

“Is your hair my surprise?” - you

“Uhm. Basically.” - Joe

Please tell me he got the modern-ish-looking mullet that I've been begging him to do.

I closed my eyes, a grin on my face as I prepared myself. He's gonna look so hot.

Meanwhile, Joe’s heart was beating out of his chest. It was silly to be nervous about, but buzzing his hair, which he knew you loved, was almost a recipe for disaster.

Joe took his hood down before popping his Bengals hat off, running his hand over his spikey hair. He took one last deep breathe, mentally preparing himself for what you're reaction would be.

“Open.” - Joe

I opened my eyes, immediately jumping back with a scream. That’s not a mullet. He's fucking bald. Joe immediately started biting his cheeks and playing with his fingers.

“Is it that bad?” - Joe mumbled

“Joseph Lee. Your hair is gone. It’s gone.” - you

“Can you answer my question? I’m super scared right now.” - Joe

I stared at his head for a few more seconds, my eyes going between his practically bare head and his worried face. He looks so nervous.

Because I hadn't said anything yet, Joe dropped his head, unable to maintain eye contact with you because he was worried you weren't attracted to him.

“You hate it.” - he mumbled

My bottom lip stuck out in a pout as I pushed off of the barstool, wrapping my arms around Joe’s shoulder as his head ended up on my shoulder.

“Aww. Baby, I don't hate it. You know I love your hair, but there's so much more to look at than it. Look at me.” - you

I gently patted the back of Joe’s neck, and he leaned up. I cupped his cheeks, placing a kiss on his forehead before pulling back with a grin on my face.

“Your pretty face is the star of the show now. I can focus on your perfect nose, your baby blue eyes, and these perfect lips.” - you

When I mentioned Joe’s nose, I pecked the tip of it, rubbing my thumbs under his eyes when I mentioned them, and I pressed a kiss to his lips when I talked about them as well.

Joe’s cheeks turned pink at the overwhelming compliments, a cheeky grin forming on his lips before I returned his head to my shoulder.

“You’re so cute.” - you giggled

I rubbed his back as Joe giggled into my neck, his hot cheeks easily feelable on my neck.

“Hair or no hair, you're the hottest man I've ever seen.” - you grinned

—

Later that week - Same flashback

I was sitting on the couch when Joe got home from his workout. I was neck-deep in a conversation about Love Island USA with Lyla, so I didn't even look up when Joe loudly shut the mudroom door.

Truthfully, he shut the door loudly on purpose to try to get your attention. When you weren't already looking up at him when he entered the house, he attempted to slam the door so you'd look up, but you didn't.

“I’m homeeee.” - Joe

It was adorable how he drawled out the word, but I was too busy ranting about my least favorite person on the show to acknowledge Joe.

“Baby?” - Joe

“Hi, Joe.” - you

Joe walked into the house, dramatically dropping his bag on the floor before basically throwing himself down on the couch next to you. And yet you still hadn't looked up at him.

“Are you gonna ask me how my workout went..?” - Joe

“How’d your workout go?” - you sighed

He had to grin. He loved messing with you.

“Good. Can I have a kiss?” - Joe

All I did was pucker my lips, my eyes still not leaving my phone as I sent a frantic paragraph in response to something Lyla said.

Joe leaned over and craned his neck to give me a kiss, my eyes going wide when his head came into view. I immediately jumped back, our lips barely ever touching.

“Oh my god. You bleached it?” - you chuckled

I watched Joe move back to his seat so that he was comfortable and not straining his neck. He nodded with a grin, and my eyes were stuck on his bleached + buzzed head.

“What do ya think?” - Joe

I couldn't lie. As bizarre and silly as bleaching and buzzing his hair was… he looked hot as fuck.

“You look good. I kind of like this more. You look less intimidating.” - you giggled

With how bright his hair was, it brought out his blue eyes. One of my favorite features of his and something I could find myself getting lost in.

I moved over after setting my phone down, eventually straddling his lap as Joe’s hands found their place on my hips.

That hair made his perfect face the star of the show, and his built chest and sculpted arms were a sight. I was getting worked up, and he was just sitting here.

“I'm not gonna lie, you look hot.” - you

“Yeah?” - Joe

I nodded, my arms going around his neck as I slowly ground down onto his crotch. Joe groaned, leaning forward and smashing his lips into mine.

“Fuck.” - Joe groaned

After a few minutes of making out, I pulled away from his slick, reddened lips. God, he looks so hot right now.

“We should probably stop. We have to tour our possible wedding venue in less than two hours, and I need to go get ready.” - you

Oh yeah, Joe and I got engaged right after his trip to France! We were planning our wedding for the next off-season, and today we were going to tour a venue with both sets of our parents.

I grinned at Joe’s pout, sad that I was leaving him hanging because he was very hard. But he couldn't get too upset. Not when we were about to tour the place where we were possibly going to get married.

“Are you not excited?” - you chuckled

“No, I am. I just don't want to have to go take a cold shower. And alone.” - Joe

Chuckling as I crawled off of Joe’s lap, I couldn't help but bite my lip at the sight of the tent in his pants.

“Stop that!” - Joe

I only laughed louder before Joe got up from the couch, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“I'm excited to see the venue, though. It’ll make everything feel a lot more real.” - Joe

“Me too. The thought alone makes me giddy. I can't wait to marry you.” - you

“I can't wait to marry you more. I've been waiting for that moment since I bumped into you on that sidewalk.” - Joe grinned

I laughed at his over-the-top statement, finding it both endearing and silly.

“Okay, I think you need that cold shower now. You need some blood flow to go back to your head instead of your dick.” - you chuckled

“Why do you say that?” - Joe laughed

“You’re starting to say some questionable things.” - you

Joe cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at me because he was confused.

“What have I said that's questionable?” - Joe

“Saying that you've been waiting for us to get married since we met.” - you

He rolled his eyes when I left his arms and gently started pushing him towards the stairs. Joe argued that he meant what he said our entire trip into our bathroom.

“Okay, okay! Get in the shower, goofball.” - you

I threw a towel at Joe before turning to the sink, going to grab my face wash before doing my makeup when a cloth fabric hit my face. I put the bottle down to pull the garment off of my head. Lo and behold, it was Joe’s boxers.

Turning around to glare at him, all I'm met with is the sight of Joe butt naked. The only thing he's wearing is a cheeky grin that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle up. If he wasn't so perfect, I’d slap him.

“Ya know… I’m still pretty horny from that make-out earlier…” - Joe

“Get in the shower.” - you

“Yes, ma'am.” - Joe sighed

I watched him climb into the shower with a smile on my face, shaking my head at his antics.

At least I know I'm marrying a man that always keeps me on my toes, I thought to myself.

“Baby, are you sure you don't want t-” - Joe

“Yes, Joe! Shower.” - you

Authors note: The next part will go back to present-day! Or August 1st. This part was just kind of setting the stage for the real stuff!!

Requests;

HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!! 💕

[pbaz7]

AGAINST THE TIDE: PART ELEVEN

paige x azzi

word count: 5.5k

A/N: I don’t know how I feel about this chapter, today felt fake and life can’t be real😭. I just need to have a lil crash out and I’ll work on making the next chapter better lol. Let me know what you think please and I hope everyone has/had a great day :)

—————————————————————————

January 2023

The library wasn’t their usual hangout spot, and for good reason. The last time they’d been here, a fan had spilled Paige’s Shirley Temple all over her book in an overly enthusiastic attempt to get a picture Paige had agreed to. But Paige and Azzi had no other choice today. They’ve been “catching up” with each other quite often— in Paige’s room, in Azzi’s, and even the living room a few times—and they realized they weren’t getting anything productive done and they had a lot to do. So the library was their last resort: a public space where they really had no choice but to not touch each other.

Azzi sat across from Paige, grumbling at her math homework. "Why do I need to do math for a communications degree?" she muttered, glaring at the numbers on her paper as if they’d personally wronged her.

Paige laughed softly, reaching over to take the paper from her. “Lemme see baby.” She skimmed it, already recognizing the concepts—it was the same class she’d taken last semester. Without a word, Paige grabbed her pencil and jotted down some notes in the margins, showing Azzi an easier way to solve the problems.

Handing the paper back, Paige teased, “You’re lucky I love you or I’d charge a pretty penny.”

Azzi grinned, a soft "Thank you, baby," slipping out as she leaned back in her chair. Paige just winked, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smirk before returning her focus to her paper.

The two worked in silence, the scratch of Azzi’s pen and Paige’s typing mixed with the distant hum of whispered conversations were the only sounds between them. Azzi, always needing some kind of contact, lightly tapped her foot against Paige’s under the table. Paige didn’t look up, but a small smile tugged at her lips as she nudged Azzi’s foot back, indulging her.

They were so engrossed in their work that neither noticed someone approaching until a voice broke the quiet.

“Hi, Azzi!”

Paige looked up, her brows knitting in mild confusion at the sight of a girl she didn’t recognize. Azzi, however, smiled in recognition.

“Oh my God, hey! It’s nice to see you outside of class,” Azzi said warmly. She gestured between them. “Paige, this is Elle—she’s in a couple of my classes. Elle, this is Paige.”

Before Paige could say a polite “Nice to meet you,” Elle let out a laugh, shaking her head. “I know who she is, Az. It’s kind of hard not to know who Paige Bueckers is on this campus.”

Paige chuckled, though the comment made her cringe a little inside. She always hated when people did that. Meeting someone and knowing of them were completely different in her mind. Still, she managed a smile, keeping it light. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

Azzi quickly looked between them, having heard Paige ramble about people doing that to her more than once before. Once she realized Paige was fine she turned her attention back to Elle who was chatting about their class. Paige shifted her focus back to her paper, letting Azzi carry the conversation, her foot still brushing against Paige’s under the table as she worked.

At some point, Elle had slid into the seat next to Azzi, the two of them catching up on class and tossing around ideas for a project they had agreed to work on together after Elle asked. Paige stayed quiet, her focus seemingly glued to her laptop as she worked on her paper. But she couldn’t help noticing the way Elle leaned in a little too much, her gaze lingering on Azzi when she thought no one was looking.

Paige didn’t say anything—she wasn’t worried in the slightest. Azzi was hers, and she knew it. Still, she made a mental note of Elle’s overly enthusiastic demeanor, keeping it there for later just in case.

Eventually, their conversation faded, and the table fell into a quiet rhythm. Elle was scribbling in a notebook, Azzi flipping through her math notes, and Paige’s fingers tapped steadily on her keyboard. The library’s soft hum of whispers filled the silence between them, broken only by the occasional shuffle of papers.

It wasn’t until Paige felt a familiar brush of Azzi’s leg against hers under the table that she glanced up. Azzi was already looking at her, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Paige couldn’t help but grin back, warmth spreading through her chest.

Lifting her hand from the keyboard, Paige tapped her finger on the table three times—a silent “I love you.”

Azzi’s cheeks flushed pink, her eyes darting back down to her notes as she quickly gathered herself. She stole a glance at Elle, who seemed oblivious to the exchange, and let out a quiet breath.

Paige, clearly amused, went back to her paper, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips at getting the reaction from Azzi.

…

As the clock crept closer to the library’s closing time, Paige closed her laptop with a soft thud, stretching her arms over her head. “Alright,” she said, glancing at Azzi. “Az you almost ready, I’m done for the night.”

Azzi nodded, letting out a quiet sigh as she began organizing her notes. “Yeah, same. My brain’s fried.”

Elle looked up from her notebook, her gaze flicking between them. “Heading out already?” she asked, her tone light but with a hint of disappointment.

“Yeah,” Paige replied, sliding her notebooks into her bag. “We have an early morning practice tomorrow.”

Azzi added, “And I’m pretty sure I’ve maxed out my tolerance for math tonight.” She gestured to her notes with a dramatic groan.

Elle chuckled. “If you ever need help with it, Azzi, let me know. I know he can be tough—I’d be happy to go over things with you so we can figure it out together. Maybe make it less painful.”

Azzi shook her head, laughing softly. “Thanks, but I’m good for now. Paige already helped me out. She’s like my personal mini Isaac Newton.”

Paige laughed at the comparison, adjusting the strap of her bag. Elle’s eyes flicked toward her, curious. “Wait, you understand this professor? How?”

Paige gave a polite smile. “I took him last semester. He’s not as bad once you figure out his style.”

Elle tilted her head, intrigued. “Ah ok. Are you in communications too?”

Paige shook her head. “Nah, human development and family sciences.”

Elle blinked, her eyebrows lifting slightly. “Oh wow. I wouldn’t have guessed that. I mean… you’re so busy with basketball, I didn’t think you’d have time for something so... strenuous.”

There was a pause at her tone, but Paige’s smile didn’t drop. “I make it work,” she said simply, her tone even but firm.

Azzi, noticing the subtle tension, broke in with a grin. “She’s being modest.”

Paige gave her a look, but her lips twitched with amusement. “Don’t start big head.”

Elle laughed lightly, though her attention lingered on Paige a moment longer. “Well, that’s impressive,” she said, her tone softer now. “Good for you.”

Paige nodded. “Thanks.”

As the conversation ebbed, Elle turned her attention back to Azzi, her tone a little more animated. “By the way, I meant to tell you—your presentation last week? It was really good. Like, you made everything sound so clear and relatable. I was kind of jealous.”

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. “Thanks, but I’m pretty sure I stumbled through half of it.”

“No way,” Elle insisted. “You were amazing. Honestly, I wish I had even half your confidence when I’m up there.”

Paige watched the exchange quietly, her expression unreadable as she scrolled on her phone waiting for Azzi.

Azzi shrugged modestly. “Appreciate it, but it’s all practice. I’m a little lucky with getting the extra practice from interviews. You’ll get there though.”

As they gathered the last of their things, Elle leaned slightly toward Azzi, her voice dropping just enough to seem more personal. “Seriously, though, if you ever want to practice a presentation or go over the project, just text me. I’d love to help out—or just hang out, you know.”

Paige’s brow twitched, but she remained silent, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

Azzi smiled, brushing it off with her usual ease. “Will do. Thanks, Elle.”

As they started walking toward the exit, Elle called after them with a warm smile, her gaze lingering on Azzi. “Goodnight! Azzi, don’t forget—I’m just a text away.”

Azzi turned, waving casually. “Got it. See you in class.”

…

About a week later they found themselves back in the library. This time because Azzi needed to work on her project with Elle and the team made it a point to not have people they didn’t know that well know where their rooms were. Paige had begrudgingly agreed to tag along after Azzi made her turn off the game. Ice, who had been playing the game with Paige and someone who was always up for people-watching and a chance to bother Paige, came along too, settling next to Paige at the table.

Azzi and Elle sat on the opposite side, laptops open and papers spread out between them as they hashed out the finer details of their project. Paige had her own laptop propped up, supposedly working on a presentation, but her focus wavered as her attention drifted to the other pair.

It didn’t escape Paige how Elle seemed to hang on to every word Azzi said, nodding eagerly, her expression animated. And while Paige tried to ignore it, she couldn’t help but notice how Elle’s chair seemed to have mysteriously scooted a couple of inches closer to Azzi since they’d sat down.

A buzz from her phone interrupted her thoughts. Picking it up, Paige saw a text from Ice, who was smirking faintly next to her.

Icy ❄️: She’s eager.

Paige but back a laugh as she typed a reply.

P Boogers ⛹🏼‍♀️: So I’m not crazy?

Her phone buzzed almost immediately.

Icy ❄️: If she leans in any closer, she’s falling in Azzi’s lap

Paige let out a quiet snort, her shoulders shaking slightly as she glanced up at Ice. The two exchanged amused looks before Ice added another text.

Icy ❄️: Lowkey feel like we intruding on her plans

That one made Paige laugh under her breath, though she quickly covered it with a cough, glancing down at her screen to hide her amusement.

Azzi, picking up on the movement and muffled sounds, glanced up from her notes. Her brow furrowed in curiosity as she looked between Paige and Ice. “What’s so funny?” she asked, tilting her head.

Paige gave her an innocent look, raising an eyebrow. “Nothing,” she said smoothly, but the slight twitch of her lips betrayed her.

Azzi narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced. “Mhm. Sure.”

Paige just shot her a knowing look that said, I’ll tell you later, before going back to typing on her laptop.

Meanwhile, Elle, seemingly oblivious to the exchange, leaned a little closer to Azzi, pointing at something on the screen. “So, for this part, we could either expand on the point or keep it short. What do you think?”

Azzi considered it for a moment before responding, her tone thoughtful. “I think we should keep it short. Too much detail might make it confusing.”

Elle nodded enthusiastically. “That makes sense. You’re really good at simplifying things. Honestly, I’d be lost without you right now.”

Ice and Paige exchanged another glance, Ice raising an eyebrow as if to say, See what I mean? Paige’s lips twitched in amusement, but she said nothing, focusing instead on her work.

As the day wore on, the dynamic remained the same—Elle constantly seeking Azzi’s input, Paige silently observing, and Ice sneaking occasional texts that kept Paige entertained.

The library was quieter than usual today. Paige had her glasses, that Azzi thankfully grabbed for her, perched on her nose as she typed away on her laptop with her iPad propped up silently playing an NBA game. Next to her Ice scrolled through her phone, occasionally tapping away at her own work. Azzi and Elle, were still engrossed in their project, their heads bent close together over Azzi’s laptop.

The steady rhythm of their work was interrupted when a young woman approached the table nervously. “I’m so sorry to bother you while you’re working,” she said timidly, her eyes flicking to Paige. “But could I get a picture with you?”

Paige looked up, blinking behind her glasses before offering a warm smile. “No, it’s okay. Of course.” She took off her glasses, setting them on the table, and pushed her chair back slightly to make room.

The girl quickly leaned in, snapping a selfie with Paige, her excitement clear. “Thank you so much,” she said breathlessly, clutching her phone like a treasure. “And I’m sorry for bothering you!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Paige replied easily, giving her a quick smile. “Have a good day.”

As the girl walked away, Paige casually slipped her glasses back on and resumed typing as if nothing had happened. Ice didn’t look up from her phone, and Azzi returned her attention to her laptop. Elle, however, was looking at Paige with thinly veiled curiosity.

“Isn’t that a little weird?” Elle finally asked, breaking the silence.

Paige raised an eyebrow, looking at her. “What’s weird?”

“People just… walking up to you like that,” Elle said, gesturing vaguely. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

Paige shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Not really. I’ll always make time for people who support me.”

Elle tilted her head, her curiosity not quite satisfied. “Your girlfriend doesn’t get jealous?”

At this, Paige froze, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. Ice’s head snapped up, and Azzi’s shoulders stiffened slightly. A brief silence fell over the table as Paige stared at Elle, confused.

“What?” Paige asked, her tone guarded.

Elle pointed at Paige’s neck, her lips quirking into a faint smile. “Your neck. There’s, um… a lot going on there.”

Realization dawned on Paige, and hand’s moving to adjust her hoodie to cover the faint marks Azzi had left a little too high this time around. Her cheeks tinged pink, but she quickly covered it with a chuckle. “Oh. Guess she got a little overzealous,” as she shoots a brief glare at Azzi.

Azzi’s lips twitched, clearly amused, while Ice smirked knowingly, leaning back in her chair to watch the interaction unfold.

Paige cleared her throat, still adjusting her hoodie. “Why’d you assume it’s a girl?” she asked, glancing at Elle with a curious expression.

Elle shrugged, a faint grin tugging at her lips. “I don’t know. You just… give off those vibes.”

Ice snickered at this, covering her mouth with her hand as Paige shot her a quick glare. Azzi raised an eyebrow, looking more entertained than anything.

Paige chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck. “Uh, thanks, I guess?” she muttered before clearing her throat. “But, um, no, to answer your question... she doesn’t mind.”

Elle looked surprised at Paige’s admission, but her curiosity only deepened. “Really? She’s cool with random people coming up to you all the time? A lot of them probably have crushes.”

Paige’s expression softened slightly, a small smile playing at her lips. “Yeah,” she said, her voice quieter now. “She understands what it’s like.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, carrying a weight that Elle didn’t fully grasp. Azzi glanced at Paige, her features relaxing into a fond smile that she quickly masked by looking down at her notebook.

Ice, however, noticed and smirked again, biting her lip to keep from laughing. “Yeah, I bet she really understands,” Ice muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Paige to hear.

Paige shot her another quick glare but couldn’t fight the grin tugging at her lips. “Mind your business,” she mumbled, turning her focus back to her laptop.

Elle smirked slightly but didn’t press further, turning her attention to Azzi instead. “So, Azzi, are you single?”

Azzi, caught off guard, coughed slightly, shifting in her seat and simultaneously adjusting her hoodie just in case. “No, I’m not,” she said, her voice calm.

Elle blinked, visibly surprised. “Oh, wow. Really? You’ve never mentioned him before.”

Azzi’s lips quirked in a subtle smile as she corrected, “Her.” She glanced at Paige briefly before adding, “And we’re just private people.”

Paige couldn’t stop the small snicker that escaped her lips, amused by Azzi’s excuse. Without missing a beat, Azzi’s foot shot out under the table, connecting lightly with Paige’s shin. Paige bit the inside of her cheek to keep her reaction in check, keeping her gaze fixed on her laptop as if nothing had happened.

Elle tilted her head, her surprise growing at Azzi’s correction. “Oh, I didn’t know you were gay.”

Paige’s jaw immediately tightened at the comment, her fingers pausing over her keyboard. She glanced at Elle, a faint glare flickering in her eyes, but she bit her tongue, waiting to see how Azzi would respond considering Elle was her friend.

Azzi, however, remained composed, her expression calm. “Yeah, I am,” she replied simply, the edge of a confident smile playing on her lips.

Paige’s tension eased slightly at Azzi’s response, but she couldn’t resist shooting Elle one more look before returning her attention to her laptop. Under the table, Azzi’s foot lightly nudged Paige’s again, softer this time, a silent reminder to let it go. Paige exhaled, her irritation fading as she refocused on her screen knowing Azzi was fine.

Elle hesitated, clearly trying to mask her disappointment at Azzi having a girlfriend before nodding. “Oh, that’s cool. But yeah private is good. I totally get it.”

Ice barely suppressed a grin as she glanced between them, but Paige remained focused on her work, her expression unreadable. Azzi, meanwhile, busied herself with her screen, though Paige caught the faint pink tint on her ears, a detail that made her smile to herself.

The group settled back into a rhythm of quiet productivity, but Paige couldn’t help stealing occasional glances at Azzi and Elle. Azzi seemed fully absorbed in her project, her brow furrowed in that cute way Paige loves, as she scrolled through a document while Elle leaned closer than necessary, pointing something out on the screen.

She stole another glance at Azzi, who was now leaning back in her chair, looking at Elle with a little bewilderment.

“You’re sure this part makes sense?” Elle asked, her tone unusually sweet. “I feel like I’m overthinking it.”

Azzi shrugged. “It looks fine to me.”

“But what if—”

“It’s fine, Elle,” Azzi cut her off with a light laugh, leaning forward to tap the screen. “Seriously, stop stressing. This part’s solid.”

Elle relaxed a little, her shoulders dropping as she smiled back. “Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Paige’s grip on her pen tightened slightly now, growing a little tired of Elle throwing herself at her girlfriend. She exchanged another look with Ice, who snorted quietly at Paige’s irritation.

Before the tension could linger, Ice leaned forward, tapping the table with her knuckle. “Hey, Azzi, you about done? Paige and I were thinking of grabbing food after this.”

Azzi glanced at Paige, who was still focused on her laptop. “Yeah, I’m almost ready. Give me a sec.”

Elle looked between them, her smile faltering slightly. “Oh, you’re all going together?”

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. we probably don’t have an ounce of food in our rooms right now.”

“Sounds fun,” Elle said, her tone light but her eyes lingering on Azzi a moment too long.

About five minutes later Azzi zipped up her bag, organizing the last of her notes as Paige stood up from her seat. Paige’s eyes landed on Azzi’s phone sitting on the table. Remembering something the younger girl was hiding, she reached for it, her fingers unlocking it with practiced ease.

Elle looked up from her own computer, eyebrows raising slightly. She expected some sort of protest from Azzi, but none came. Azzi didn’t even glance up, completely unfazed as Paige casually scrolled through her phone.

“Hmm,” Paige muttered to herself, tilting the phone slightly away from wandering eyes before walking around the table to Azzi’s side. She stopped just behind her, holding the screen in front of Azzi. “What’s this for?”

Azzi glanced at the phone, her lips curving into a faint smile. “You weren’t supposed to see that yet.”

Paige leaned down slightly, her voice dropping into a soft whisper, just low enough that Elle couldn’t hear. “Too late now. I like it a lot, though.”

Azzi’s body instinctively leaned back into Paige as she whispered something back to her. Her movement wasn’t much—just the smallest shift—but it was enough to make her posture relax, as if her body naturally sought Paige’s presence.

Elle’s eyes flicked between the two of them watching the subtle exchange, her brows furrowing slightly. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but the way her jaw tightened didn’t go unnoticed by Ice, who stifled a laugh behind her hand.

Paige chuckled softly, straightening up and handing the phone back to Azzi. “I look forward to it.”

Azzi tilted her head, giving Paige a small smile. “Mm I’m sure you do.”

Elle cleared her throat, the sound making both Paige and Azzi glance her way.

“You guys are close,” Elle said, her tone light but tinged with something else.

Ice coughed, failing to hide her snicker.

Paige smiled politely, tucking her hands into her pockets. “Yeah, she’s like my best friend.”

Azzi didn’t add anything, instead focusing on grabbing her bag.

After bidding goodbye, the three of them headed toward the door, leaving Elle at the table as she worked on something else.

…

Later that night, Paige and Azzi were tangled together on Paige’s bed, the room dimly lit by her led lights. Paige hovered over Azzi, her lips brushing against hers before she nipped playfully at Azzi’s bottom lip.

“Ow,” Azzi laughed softly, pulling back just enough to pout at her. “That one actually hurt.”

Paige smirked, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh, come on, you’re fine.” She leaned down to kiss her softly, the pout on Azzi’s face melting away almost immediately.

Azzi deepened the kiss, her hands sliding up Paige’s sides, drawing a quiet sigh from her. Paige pulled away slightly, her lips brushing against Azzi’s as she murmured with a chuckle, “You’re such a hornball.”

Azzi grinned, her fingers tugging lightly at the hem of Paige’s shirt. “Can you blame me?”

Paige laughed, sitting back and pulling her shirt off in one smooth motion. Azzi’s eyes immediately landed on the marks she’d left across Paige’s collarbone and shoulders earlier.

“You got me caught up earlier” Paige teased, leaning back down to kiss Azzi again.

Azzi didn’t respond with words, just a satisfied hum as her hands slid into Paige’s hair, undoing her bun.

The soft buzz of Azzi’s phone on the nightstand interrupted them. Azzi ignored it, her focus entirely on Paige, until the buzzing sounded again, twice in quick succession.

“Popular tonight,” Paige muttered against her lips, but Azzi just shook her head, pulling her closer.

Then the phone started ringing.

Paige sighed and pulled back, reaching over to grab the phone from the nightstand. Azzi groaned, her head falling back against the pillow.

“What?” she grumbled, not even bothering to look as Paige’s fingers swiped across the screen looking at the three messages prior to the call .

Paige raised an eyebrow at all the messages and the call. “Elle,” she said, turning the screen toward Azzi.

Azzi’s eyes opened, her brows furrowing slightly. “Seriously?” she muttered, reaching out for the phone, but Paige pulled it back out of her reach.

“Should I answer it?” Paige asked, a teasing smile on her face, already knowing the answer.

“No, give it to me,” Azzi said, sitting up slightly and reaching for it again, but Paige held firm, her grin widening.

Without waiting for a response, Paige answered the call, putting it on speaker. “Hello?”

There was a brief pause on the other end before Elle’s voice came through, hesitant but upbeat. “Um… Azzi?”

Paige smirked, holding the phone just out of Azzi’s reach for a moment. “Yeah she’s right here one sec,” she said into the receiver, handing it off to Azzi with an innocent smile that Azzi didn’t trust for a second.

Azzi sighed, taking the phone and pressing it to her ear. “Hey, Elle. What’s up?” she asked, forcing her voice to sound casual.

“Oh hey! I just wanted to check if you’ve had a chance to go over the notes I sent over after you left,” Elle said brightly.

“Uh… not yet,” Azzi replied, her voice steady, though her gaze flickered to Paige, who was leaning closer with a grin. “I’ve been… busy.”

Paige leaned back on her elbow for a moment, watching her, but then she leaned forward again, her lips brushing softly against the curve of Azzi’s neck. Azzi’s shoulders tensed as she sent Paige a sharp look, mouthing, Don’t start.

“Oh, no worries,” Elle said cheerfully. “I just thought it might help if we went through them together? Maybe tomorrow after class?”

“Yeah, um… that could work,” Azzi said, her voice faltering slightly as Paige pressed a kiss to her neck, this time lingering. Azzi’s free hand pushed weakly at her shoulder, but Paige didn’t budge, her lips curling into a smirk against Azzi’s skin.

“Great!” Elle continued, completely unaware. “Do you want to meet at the library again? Or maybe somewhere quieter where we won’t get distracted? There’s this pretty private coffee shop I know about.”

Azzi’s grip tightened on the phone as Paige began trailing kisses down her neck, her warm breath sending shivers down Azzi’s spine. “Uh… the library’s fine,” Azzi managed to get out, her voice strained.

“Okay, cool that’s fine! Oh, and by the way,” Elle added, her tone turning slightly sheepish, “I actually wanted to ask you about that third slide. I’m not sure I totally understood the point you were making.”

Azzi groaned softly—not at Elle’s question, but at Paige’s lips finding a particularly sensitive spot. She tried to compose herself. “The third slide?” she repeated, her voice higher than normal.

“Yeah, the one about media convergence. Like, how does that tie back to our overall thesis?” Elle asked, her enthusiasm completely at odds with Azzi’s internal panic.

“Um… well,” Azzi started, her words fumbling as Paige smiled against her skin at her struggling. Paige leaned back just enough to whisper, “You’re doing great,” before moving to another spot, this time lightly nipping. Azzi let out a sharp breath and had to clamp her mouth shut to stop any further noise from slipping out.

“I, uh…” Azzi struggled to focus. “It’s about… the integration of different media platforms. Like—um—it shows how, uh, traditional and digital media can…”

Paige’s quiet laugh at Azzi’s stumbling didn’t help. Azzi sent her a pleading look, but Paige just raised her eyebrows as if to say, Don’t mind me.

“That makes sense!” Elle said, completely oblivious. “But do you think we should include more recent examples, like TikTok trends or streaming platforms? Or is that too specific?”

“Sure,” Azzi said quickly, squeezing her eyes shut as Paige sucked hard above her collarbone, barely registering the question. “Whatever you think works is fine.”

“Okay, cool! I’ll jot that down,” Elle replied. “So, do you think we could finalize that section tomorrow? I feel like if we can tighten it up, the rest of the presentation will fall into place.”

“Uh-huh,” Azzi said, nodding absentmindedly, her resolve crumbling as Paige continued to suck gently on her neck, making her breath hitch time and time again. She bit her lip hard, trying to keep her composure as Paige started trailing further down her chest.

“Oh! And about the intro slide—” Elle started, but Azzi couldn’t take it anymore as Paige tilted her head to the side for more access.

“Elle,” she interrupted, her tone a little sharper than intended. “Let’s… uh… finalize everything tomorrow, okay? I’ll take a look at the notes before we meet, I promise.”

There was a brief pause. “Oh, yeah, of course! Sorry if I’m keeping you from something you sound busy,” Elle said, her tone apologetic now.

Azzi huffed softly, glancing at Paige, who was smirking triumphantly. “It’s fine,” Azzi said quickly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, sounds good! Have a good night!” Elle chirped.

“You too,” Azzi replied before ending the call and tossing the phone onto the bed.

Azzi turned to Paige, her cheeks flushed. “You’re on timeout,” she said firmly, though the hint of her smile betrayed her.

Paige leaned back on her elbows, completely unrepentant. “What? I was just keeping myself entertained while my girl was busy,” she said, her grin widening.

Azzi groaned, running a hand through her hair. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Elle seems to think you are too.”

Azzi’s head snapped toward Paige, frowning. “What? No, she doesn’t,” she said, crossing her arms defensively.

Paige snorted, sitting up straighter. “Yeah, okay. She’s just super friendly, right? Sure.”

“She is just friendly,” Azzi said, rolling her eyes. “That’s just her personality.”

Paige tilted her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “Mmm. I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure she has a little crush on you.”

Azzi huffed, but the faintest hint of pink crept up her neck at herself, possibly being oblivious. “You’re imagining things.”

“Oh, I’m imagining things?” Paige asked. “She doesn’t light up every time you talk? Or scoot her chair closer? Practically trip over herself to help you?”

Azzi hesitated, and Paige continued. “See? You know I’m right.”

“She’s just… enthusiastic,” Azzi muttered, though her tone wasn’t as confident as before.

Paige chuckled, shaking her head. “Okay, how about this then? Let’s make a bet.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “A bet? About what?”

Paige leaned back against the headboard, her smirk growing. “Simple. I bet Elle tries something tomorrow when you meet up.”

Azzi groaned, grabbing a pillow. “Paige, she’s not going to try anything. I told her I have a girlfriend.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. “Yeah, because that always stops people who are already crushing hard.”

Azzi let out a laugh, tossing the pillow at Paige. “You’re so full of it. Fine. What are we betting?”

Paige smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Alright, if I’m right, you gotta let me put her in her place.”

Azzi groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “Paige, no.”

“What?” Paige said, laughing. “I’m not saying I’ll be mean. Just, you know, a little something to make it clear who you belong to.”

Azzi shook her head, though she couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re annoying.”

“I’m hilarious,” Paige corrected, leaning back smugly. “Come on, it’ll be harmless. I swear I won’t be over the top.”

Azzi sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re ridiculous. Fine. But what happens if I win?”

Paige shrugged casually. “I don’t know. You can pick.”

Azzi’s gaze shifted toward the closet, her expression turning mischievous.

Paige immediately sat up, narrowing her eyes. “Hell no.”

Azzi pouted dramatically, clasping her hands together like she was begging. “You’re no fun.”

“That’s never happening Az and you know it,” Paige said firmly, crossing her arms.

“Fine,” Azzi said, sighing as though greatly inconvenienced. “If I win, you’re doing the dishes for a week. And laundry.”

Paige groaned, throwing herself back onto the bed. “Why do your bets always come with chores?”

“Because I’m practical,” Azzi said, grinning as she lay down beside her. “And because I know you’ll lose.”

Paige turned her head, giving Azzi a playful glare. “We’ll see about that.”

Azzi laughed softly, shaking her head. “Alright, deal.”

Paige held out her pinky. “Pinky swear?”

Azzi rolled her eyes but hooked her pinky with Paige’s anyway. “You’re so weird.”

“I love you too,” Paige said, her grin widening.

Azzi rolled her eyes, though the fond smile on her lips betrayed her. “I don’t want to talk about her anymore,” she said, her voice softening as she moved to climb onto Paige’s lap, straddling her with ease.

Paige’s breath hitched slightly, her hands instinctively finding Azzi’s hips. She tilted her head back, her lips curving into a smirk. “Mmm,” she murmured, her thumbs brushing lightly over Azzi’s sides. “What do you wanna talk about then?”

Azzi leaned down, her hands bracing on either side of Paige’s head as her lips hovered just above hers. Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she whispered, “I don’t really want to talk.”

Paige’s smirk deepened, her grip on Azzi’s hips tightening slightly. “Good,” she said, her voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. “Talking’s overrated.”

Azzi chuckled softly before closing the gap between them, her lips pressing against Paige’s with a slow, deliberate intensity. Paige responded immediately, her hands sliding up Azzi’s sides and pulling her closer, deepening the kiss.

[realgoogleclassroom]

Just please, please return them when they're due, or you won't be able to keep getting free books

Just a friendly reminder that public libraries are a great way to get books for free!

[melobin]

8 and 12 with dom seok? anyways WELCOME BACK (to writing) melo I miss you

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

8. “imagine how good i’d feel inside of you”

12. “shh, i know baby, i know”

eunseok was a walking nightmare, in the best way possible. he haunted your every waking moment with thoughts you hoped no one could hear. it was shameful, the way he turned you into a wild animal of sorts. thoughts of letting him ravage you in any way he wanted whilst you were picking out a book at the library, or images of him bending you over the counter whilst you were making breakfast. you were in deep, and you were almost certain he didn’t know. at least you assumed he didn’t.

but he did.

eunseok knew how you looked at him, how your eyes lingered on his arms and the way you’d fall distracted into thoughts around him. he thought the way you tried to hide it was cute, he liked seeing the way you’d freeze up and become flustered when he regained your attention. so eunseok knew, having you alone and all to himself was the perfect time to strike.

arms around your waist, fingers creeping under your shirt and over your stomach, his chest pressed against your back as he breathed into your ear.

“how many times have you thought about it?” you breathed out heavily at his question, his voice low in your ear “been imagining how good i’d feel inside of you?”

“seok” your voice was shaky, legs just as weak as you responded to him. eunseok smirked against your ear, adoring the way you reacted to him.

“yeah? what is it sweet girl?”

“please” you breathed out, feeling him press himself against your ass “we can be quick” eunseok laughed into your ear, pushing your body against the counter in front of you.

“baby, we have all the time in the world” one of his hands travelled to your hip as he lifted the other off of you, moving it to press down against your back to make you bend over the counter. his fingers shot down to creep up the backs of your thighs, your skirt being pushed up as he did.

despite having so much time, he made quick work of ridding himself of his trousers, his briefs falling down with them. he held his cock in his hand before resting it against your panties, the girth laying between your cheeks. you sighed as you felt him against you, his hips gently bucking forward so he could grind himself against you.

the weight of his cock against you set your stomach on fire. it was impossible for you to explain how bad you wanted him in that moment, but you were sure he could tell from the wet patch that was forming in your panties.

it didn’t take him long to get impatient and push your panties aside, not bothering to take them off of you as he pressed his tip against your clit, dragging himself down your slit whilst taking in just how wet you were. he loved it. the effect he had on you turned him on an incredibly high amount.

“ready?” you whimpered as you heard him speak, you gulped. not bothering to hide emotions any longer.

“please” it was broken as it slipped from your lips, you were past the point of no return. wanting nothing more than to finally feel him inside of you.

eunseok didn’t say anything after that, he let his actions speak for him. he reached over you to grab ahold of your hair, pulling back causing your back to arch a little more and your head to tilt back. the rough action made you gasp, all in time for his other hand to push the tip of his cock into your soaked cunt.

you whimpered as you felt him push into you, his cock stretching your walls apart whilst he sunk deeper into you. the sound you let out felt inhumane, the way your body reacted to him gave away every emotion you were feeling. and god you were feeling a lot.

it was hard for you to control your tears as he continued to slowly press himself into you, his body leaning over yours. he pressed his lips to your ear his breathing heavy as you took more of him. he took note of the tear sliding down your face, the way you whimpered as he stilled inside of you.

“it’s so good” your voice was weak, broken as you spoke to him. eunseok smiled against you, hips slowly pulling back before he pushed into you again with a little force behind him. you cried out, his hips repeating the motion as he spoke back to you. voice deep in your ear.

“shh, i know baby, i know” he cooed, teeth sinking into the top of your ear before he continued, arm wrapping around your waist with his hand pressing against your lower stomach “don’t worry, i’ll teach you to take me”.

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

Hi! I love how unique your works are there’s nothing like them on here!

I was wondering if I could request an ot8 reacting y/n finding a stray black cat and begging to keep it and then spoiling the cat! I thought this was a super cute fluffy request

Thanks love! Don’t forget to drink water !

P.S do you have anons ?

𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕛𝕖𝕔𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕥-𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕒𝕔𝕜

Warning: fluff

Summary: Request!

A/N: no i currently don't have anons but i'm open to it!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Psst, Lix,” she whispered towards the blonde boy. He quickly looked over at her, confused, before she yanked him off the couch with a yelp.

“What are you doing?” he whispered back. “And why are we whispering?” he asked, still puzzled.

“Shhh, not too loud. Follow me, and I’ll explain.” She grabbed his hand and slowly pulled him along, making sure to avoid everyone else in the hallway.

“I don’t like this,” he grumbled quietly. They arrived at her room, and Felix mentally prepared himself for the worst.

“Come on,” she rolled her eyes playfully before opening her door just enough for them to slip through. When they were finally inside, Felix gasped.

“Oh. My. God.”

“SHHH!” Y/N giggled, trying to keep quiet.

“Chan and Lee Know are going to kill you,” he whispered back, quickly making his way to the bed, where a ball of black fur lay.

“It’s so cute!” Felix squealed, petting the cat. “Where did you even find him?”

“Yes, it’s a him, and I found him on the way back from class,” she smiled.

“Does anyone else know?”

“Nope, you’re the first. Please don’t tell anyone,” she begged.

“I won’t, but you’ll have to tell them sooner or later because Lee Know knows everything,” Felix warned her.

Felix knew the two oldest of the group had the best instincts in the house, so by the evening, when he was playing video games with Changbin and heard Lee Know yelp, he wasn’t surprised.

“Y/N! Get in here now!” Lee Know’s loud voice echoed through the house, and Felix stifled a giggle.

“What did she do now?” Changbin asked casually.

“Brought a stray cat home,” he laughed again, trying to get comfortable on Changbin’s lap.

“Damn, she’s gonna get it,” Changbin chuckled, not even surprised at his girlfriend’s antics.

“Told her not to hide it,” Felix said, glancing up the stairs, trying to hear the conversation.

When Y/N heard her name being called, she knew she was in trouble. Lee Know had three tones when he called them:

The “dinner is ready” tone.

The “hurry up, we have to go” tone.

The “you’re in big trouble” tone.

Right now, it was the third tone, and she knew she was in deep trouble.

“Coming!” she replied, getting off the stool and collecting her books from the library.

When she stepped into the corridor, she saw her door was slightly ajar and gasped. She was busted.

“I can make a run for it,” she whispered to herself, looking for an escape route.

“Don’t even think about it,” Lee Know’s head poked around the corner of the door. “Don’t you dare.”

She sighed, defeated, before slowly making her way to her room, where she found Lee Know pacing back and forth.

“Tell me why I come to drop off a basket of your laundry and find a creature sitting on your bed?” he demanded, clearly upset.

“I—I... okay, so basically—”

“And don’t you lie to me, Y/N Y/L/N,” he said, furrowing his brows.

“I was walking home, and he wouldn’t stop following me, so I decided to keep him,” she frowned.

“You didn’t think to ask us first?” he huffed. “He was probably following you because I made you tuna wraps for lunch today.” He huffed again, crossing his arms.

“Oh... but—”

“We can’t keep him. We have too much on our plate to take care of a cat, and knowing you, you’ll end up making me take care of him,” Lee Know said, returning to put her laundry away.

“But baby... pretty please? I’ll do anything,” she whined, walking over to cling to him.

“Let go of me before I stuff you with tissues,” he grumbled, but he didn’t push her away.

“Babe, baby, the love of my life,” she pouted, trying not to laugh at his miserable expression.

“I’ll give you head for the next three weeks,” she said, knowing she rarely gave head because it wasn’t her thing.

“Make it four, and it’s a yes,” he smirked.

“Fine, deal.” She sighed, getting off him. He grabbed the laundry basket with a satisfied smile.

“You better tell Chan, or else I will,” he said before walking out, proud of the head he would be getting.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” she whispered to the cat, who looked back at her, puzzled and confused.

The next day, everyone had a busy schedule—everyone except Chan, who had to work from home due to an upset tummy.

“I wonder where she put it,” he muttered to himself while going through cabinets.

“Could it be in her room?” he wondered before quickly making his way to Y/N's room, hoping to find his drive.

“I really need to get her her own drive; this can’t—” He stopped in his tracks when he fully entered her room. A small cat was casually strolling around, meowing.

“What the—” he exclaimed, confused. Why was there an animal living in her room, and how long had it been there? Had he been so busy that he didn’t even notice his girlfriend sneaking around behind his back?

“Hey there, little guy,” he crouched down and started petting the cat.

“Your mama is going to be in big trouble when she gets home, yes she is,” he said in a baby voice.

“You must be very hungry, huh? Come on, let’s go make you something to eat,” he cooed at the cat before slowly picking it up, forgetting all about his search for the drive.

“Lee Know’s going to love you, hm?” he chatted with the cat as they made their way downstairs to the kitchen.

“I wonder what she named you—probably Pebble or some silly name like that,” he laughed to himself before pouring a bowl of milk.

Satisfied, he watched as the cat happily started to drink the milk while he sent a quick text to Lee Know about the new addition.

“Your other parent is going to be home in a few hours, so you better behave because I have a lot of work to do,” he said before leaving and making his way to his office.

“I'm home!” Hyunjin was the first to arrive.

“Oh, hi there!” he said, startled when he found the random cat lounging on the couch. “Aren’t you the cutest?” he cooed, stroking the kitten.

“Hey, babe?! Do you know there’s a cat in the house? Did you get it?” Hyunjin called for Chan, who quickly made his way to the living room.

“Hey, my love,” Chan said, giving him a quick kiss before laughing at the sight of the cat trying to cuddle in Hyunjin’s lap.

“I found him in Y/N's room,” he chuckled.

“Not surprised,” Hyunjin sighed. “Remember when she tried to get you to buy her a chicken?” He laughed at the memory.

“Or the pig,” Chan added, shaking his head. “I swear this cat is the closest thing we can get to normal.”

“Yeah, I overheard her telling Han how she was going to convince you to buy her a horse,” Hyunjin said, laying his head on Chan's lap and continuing to coo at the kitten.

“Please don’t tell me you’re being serious,” Chan huffed. “She’ll be the death of me.”

When the boys finally got home and were properly introduced to the new addition, Lee Know had made sure to bring some cat food, and Felix had bought some cat supplies. It was confirmed that the cat would be staying for a while.

“I’m home!” Y/N called out as she entered the house and removed her shoes.

“In here!” Han called back. She made her way to the living room, excited to greet her boyfriends, but was quickly startled to find her cat sitting on Chan’s lap while I.N. and Seungmin were petting it.

Oh no.

“I can explain!” she said, quickly putting her hands up in defense.

“Yes, you can, and you will,” Chan replied. He didn’t look mad or angry, though.

Why didn’t he look angry?

“I was walking home, and he followed me. I tried to get him to leave me alone, but he wouldn’t,” she pouted.

“I’m not mad that we have a cat now; I’m just upset that you didn’t tell me, babe,” he said, handing the cat to Seungmin to hold.

“I know, I’m sorry, but I thought you wouldn’t let me keep him,” she replied.

“We can keep him. I think it’ll give you a chance to learn what it feels like to be responsible for another life,” he said, pulling her into his arms for a quick kiss.

“Just make sure you actually take care of him and don’t do this again,” he added with a light warning.

“Thank you! I won’t, you’re the best!” she squealed.

“Oh, and Y/N,” he said before leaving the room.

“I’m not getting you a horse,” he smirked, exiting before the argument could begin. She looked at Han, feeling betrayed.

“I didn’t tell him, I swear!” he said, holding his hands up in defense while laughing with the rest of the group.

“Snitch,” she rolled her eyes. “Come on, Pebble, let’s show you around the house.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Don't forget to reblog and follow! <3

A/N: Thank you anon!

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[roguelov]

OKAY BUT IMAGINE;

Becoming Morpheus's safe space or his emotional support human. Like one day you're walking through the Dreaming and you find Morpheus, who is completely overwhelmed with his feelings and is hiding from everyone. So you, who has been completely nervous and a little intimidated by him bc he's literally an Endless, go up to him and hug him without hesitation. You comfort him without asking any questions or trying to get him to talk about it. You just let him feel with no judgement.

Que to like maybe a couple weeks or months later where Morpheus just constantly seeks out your touch for comfort. Like will literally cross a whole room just to touch you no matter whoever is there or wherever you two are. He just automatically relaxs at the touch and he also like to see the light blush that appears on your face because despite how normal the touching is by now, he still makes you nervous in a butterflies in the stomach type of way.

OH MY GOD MY HEART IS MELTING AT THIS I DIDNT KNOW I NEEDED THIS UNTIL YOU SAID IT

You were in the library assisting Lucienne with reorganizing all the new books. The two of you were talking about anything and everything. It was calm, and enjoyable.

Until such a peace was interrupted.

Hasty footsteps cut through your melodic conversation. You both turned your head to find Morpheus marching through the library. His eyes determined and somewhat harsh as each of his steps were filled with a near righteous purpose. He seemed to be on some personal - and dare you say important - mission. As if, he was trying to locate something, or someone.

Morpheus’s eyes flickered over to you. Instantly, he beelined it directly towards you. Once within your grasp, he hugged you from behind.

Someone. He was trying to find someone, and that being you.

You tensed up, feeling your heart skip. His arms tightened around your waist as he pressed his forehead into your shoulder. He let out a deep long heavy exhale as some internal weight lifted off of him.

Lucienne bit back a smile. You glanced at her with wide eyes, feeling a heat rise to your cheeks. She knew of your small crush on the Endless, a secret she swore to keep. “I will finish later, there are other things I must do,” she said with a slight playfulness in her voice.

You wanted to call out to her, to tell her not to go, but all those words died on your lips. Once she disappeared from sight, you let out a small sigh. She will give you grief later.

“Apologies,” Morpheus murmured, still clinging to you. You tensed at the soft hypnotic timbre of his voice. “It has been a … difficult morning.”

With each passing second, the stress continued to melt off of him. How could one hug, one touch from you, calm him so immensely?

“It’s ok,” you tried to keep your voice steady. “Just took me a bit off guard.”

“Should I -“ he slowly removed his arms.

“No,” you blurted out. “It’s fine, really. You just looked so … so … angry earlier, I didn’t know what you were going to do.”

Morpheus sighed, returning his arms around you grateful for it. “Again, I am sorry if I alarmed you.”

“Please you don’t have to apologize. If I can bring you any kind of comfort then I’m happy to help.”

His arms gave you a small squeeze, almost as if in a silent thank you. “You truly are a wonder to behold,” he whispered.

Your heart fluttered at his touching words. “How so,” you asked with a giddy smile as you placed your hands over top of his.

“You can always calm my chaotic emotions.”

You turned your head slightly to peer at him from the corner of your eye. All you saw was his messy ruffled hair. You leaned your head towards his, and lovingly rest it against his. “Always happy to help,” you whispered softly into his hair.

Morpheus was thankful to have hid his face, for he knew if you looked at him you could see his unspoken love for you. A mortal who went from stranger to confidante. His dear mortal whose words and touch can assuage any turmoil within him. His infatuation that held his heart in a way he could not comprehend. His love who he hoped would stay by his side when he gathered the courage to ask.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

Thank you for everything.

“Of course, I’m always here for you,” you hummed.

[satorella]

“𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬”

You were studying in the library with the majority of your friend group: Armin, Mikasa, Eren, Jean, Sasha, and Connie.

𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧 chose to sit across from you, which made you slightly nervous. He had the perfect view of you. Unbeknownst to you and the others, that was actually his goal.

It’s like you were made for him. Armin loved talking to you and he enjoyed your company. You’re smart and your sense of humor matched his. A plus? You’re so beautiful. When he realized that he had feelings for you, he didn’t know how to handle it.

What if you didn’t feel the same way?

Every now and then you guys would engage in academic conversation, something that bore the others. You were the only one who truly understood him and shared his interests.

That’s one of the things he adored about you.

“God, just date already.” Jean groaned sarcastically, interrupting you and Armin’s conversation about some Geology stuff… not realizing what the weight of his words actually meant to you guys. You and Armin snapped your mouths shut. Both of your faces turning a light shade of pink. Everyone else sat silently, watching the interaction between you and Armin. They saw this coming. The two of you always sat together, talked every chance you got, hung out a lot…

A smirk crept onto Jean’s face, and he was about to speak again, when Connie interrupted. “Alright, alright, knock it off.” He said, shutting Jean up. Armin’s heart pounded like he’d just run a marathon.

“Well, I think I’m gonna call it a night.” He said as soon as he could manage without his voice cracking. Standing up from his seat, he shoved his books into his backpack. “I-I should probably get going too… I have an 8am class tomorrow.” You said without looking at any of them. Everyone said their quick goodnights to the two of you and, thankfully, returned to their conversations and studying. “…Can I walk you back to your dorm?” He asked quietly, “I mean, it’s the gentlemanly thing to do, right? Heh.” He quickly added. You finally looked up at him, and tried not to blush, “Sure, thanks.”

Once you guys left the library, a sort of awkward silence fell over you two. “Y’know, Jean’s just being sarcastic…” He said, trying to find something to talk about. “Right, heh.” You nodded your head. He kept his hands shoved inside the pockets of his hoodie, trying to focus on the sidewalk beneath his feet. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t avoid staring at you. There was just so much he wanted to say to you…

Fuck it.

Before he could even open his mouth, you beat him to it. “A-Armin… I like you!” You blurted. His heart fluttered when he heard your words and he actually had to stop in his tracks, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Seriously?” He asked, his voice cracking a bit. You swallowed hard, “Y-Yeah. Please don’t feel obligated to feel anything back for me. I just… I just thought you should know…” You hugged your textbook tighter against your chest.

Without a second thought, he reached out and grabbed your elbow, gently pulling you closer to him. “Are you kidding me, Y/n?” He said with a soft laugh. “I like you too. I think I’ve liked you from the moment we became Geology partners…” You felt like you were gonna throw up from all the excitement, “I-I don’t know what to say now.” You giggled. He chuckled along with you, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. He still couldn’t believe this was actually happening. The person he cared about just confessed to HIM first. The nerd who barely interacted with people outside his friend group. Even then, he never really took an interest in anyone like he did with you. “It’s funny that Jean managed to blurt out what I’ve been meaning to tell you for months…” He scratched the back of his neck. You smiled, hooking your arm around his as you guys continued to walk to your dorm.

“Sooo.” He started, pausing to choose his words carefully as you guys now stood in front of your dorm door. “Can I ask you something?” You raised a brow, nodding for him to continue. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves… “Can I kiss you?” Oh. That wasn’t the question you were expecting. But you weren’t gonna say no to that!

After you nodded your head yes, he didn’t waste a second, immediately pulling you against him. The fact that he was allowed to touch you like this, it was almost too good to be true. He lightly tilted your chin upward and leaned down to press his lips against yours in a gentle kiss. “Be my girlfriend.” He murmured against your lips. When you murmured a “yes” against his lips back, his face broke into a goofy but happy grin as he repeated the question, needing to hear it one more time.

“You’ll be my girlfriend?”

“Yes, Armin. I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

© 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒-𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

Join my tag list here! | Armin Arlert community here!

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Playthings | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ? ;) )

Warnings: DESCRIPTIONS OF CHILDHOOD PARENTAL ABUSE. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THIS. descriptions of parental death, canon violence, canon gore. please take care of yourselves, lovebugs. 

Word Count: 6025

A/N: look at his gorgeous face i'm gonna scream.

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

Dean definitely changed after that night with you before Sam disappeared. To be fair, you had as well. But both of you refused to talk about it. It was just subtle enough that Sam couldn’t pick up on it, but there were some lingering glances Dean stole at you and moments when your heart would swell in your chest just catching sight of him. 

Well, Sam probably would have noticed your change in behavior had it not been for the John-Winchester-level investigation he was doing into Ava’s disappearance. Papers covered every inch of your motel room in Peoria, Illinois; some of which were of Ava’s face, some of etchings of demons from the pages of library books, and some even you couldn’t quite make out. You were one-hundred percent beginning to worry about Sam’s mental state.

He’d been on the phone with Ellen for about thirty minutes now searching for more information. You sat on the floor, leaned against Dean’s bed, scribbling in your journal. Dean returned to the room carrying three coffee cups toward the end of Sam’s phone call. “What'd she have to say?”

Sam sighed. “Oh, she's got nothing. Me, I've been checking every database I can think of— federal, state, and local. No one's heard anything about Ava, she just— into thin air, you know?”

Your lips twisted to the side in confusion. He gave you a coffee cup and one to Sam.

“Ellen did have one thing,” said Sam. “A hotel in Cornwall, Connecticut. Two freak accidents in the past three weeks.”

“What’s that got to do with Ava?” you questioned.

“It’s a job,” he replied simply. “I mean, a lady drowned in the bathtub; then a few days ago a guy falls down the stairs, head turns a complete one-eighty. Which isn't exactly normal, you know? Look, I don't know, it might be nothing, but I told Ellen we'd think about checking it out.”

Dean’s eyebrows raised. “You did?”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah. You seem surprised.”

“Well yeah, it's just, you know. not the, uh, patented ‘Sam Winchester’ way, is it?” Dean joked.

Sam deadpanned at him, “What way is that?”

“I just figured after Ava there'd be, uh, you know, more angst and droopy music and staring out the rainy windows, and—”

You gave Dean a look.

He deflated. “Yeah, I’ll shut up now.”

“Look,” Sam huffed. “I'm the one who told her to go back home. Now her fiancé's dead, and some demon has taken her off to god knows where. You know? But we've been looking for a month now, and we've got nothing. So I'm not giving up on her, but I'm not going to let other people die either. We've got to save as many people as we can.”

Dean snorted. “Wow. That attitude is just way too healthy for me, and I'm officially uncomfortable now. Thank you.”

Sam ducked his head, chuckling, as did you.

“I’ll call Ellen,” you said. “I’ll tell her we'll take it.”

***

“Dean, can I pick a cassette? I’m dyin’ over here with Metallica. Love ‘em, but you haven’t changed the tape in, like, a week and a half now,” you groaned.

“(Y/N), you know the rules,” Dean warned.

“Yeah, but—”

“ ‘Sides,” he cut you off, “We’re almost there anyway. I’ll change it when we’re back on the road, deal?” 

“Deal.”

Sam looked between the two of you strangely. 

“What?” Dean questioned.

“When’s the last time you changed your music when somebody asked you to?” Sam questioned.

Dean thought for a moment. 

The younger brother shook his head. “Exactly.”

“I’m thinking,” replied Dean, scratching his head. He seemed to pick up on what Sam was suggesting and was doing his best to dodge questions. You understood; the two of you hadn’t exactly had an opportunity to discuss anything— not that you even wanted to. You were perfectly content just… “being,” as you’d written in your journal.

The car’s rumble quieted down considerably as Dean slowed in front of a victorian-style structure marked “Pierpont Inn” by the sign on the front. The air was slightly misty, blanketing the ground in a bit of a haze as your boots hit uneven gravel.

“Dude, this is sweet. I never get to work jobs like this,” Dean grinned.

“Like what?” you asked.

“Old school haunted houses, you know? Fog and secret passageways, sissy British accents— might even run into Fred and Daphne while we're inside.” He closed his eyes contentedly. “Mmm, Daphne. Love her.”

You jokingly shoved his head as if to say, “Shame on you, I’m right here.”

He chuckled at your antics. Sam turned to you strangely once more, but shook his head.

You noticed an urn on the porch next to the front door. “Hey, wait a sec,” you said, inspecting the urn more closely. You noticed a five-point symbol engraved on the urn. “I’m not so sure ‘haunted’ is the problem.”

“What do you mean?” Dean questioned. 

Sam nodded. “Good eye, (Y/N/N). That's a quincunx; that's a five-spot.”

“Five-spot,” Dean repeated. “That's used for hoodoo spellwork, isn't it?”

The brunet affirmed, “Right, yeah. You fill this thing with bloodweed and you've got a powerful charm to ward off enemies.”

“Only thing is,” you began, “I don’t see any bloodweed.”

“Yeah, anyway, don't you think this place is a little too, uh, white meat for Hoodoo?” Dean jested.

Sam shrugged. “Maybe.”

You held the door open for the brothers and followed in behind them. An auburn-haired woman briskly entered the room. “May I help you?” she asked.

“Hi, yeah, we’d like two rooms for a couple of nights,” Dean said. 

You jolted back as a young girl darted in front of your legs. You smiled at her as she ran away giggling; you couldn’t remember a time when you’d ever felt that innocent. 

“Hey!” the woman called after the girl. She gave you a weary smile. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem,” you said.

She sighed. “Well, um, congratulations, you could be some of our final guests.”

“Well, sounds vaguely ominous,” Dean stated.

You fought back a grin. 

“No, I'm sorry, I mean we're closing at the end of the month,” she said, seeming a little sad. 

“Yeah, I heard. I’m sorry about that,” you told her. “I’m into antiquing; this place came up on my radar. Figured I’d stop by before you guys shut down. I, uh, dragged these two along for the ride,” you finished, gesturing between Dean and Sam.

“Y'know, speaking of antiques,” Sam cut in, “you have a really, really interesting urn on the front porch. Where did you get that?”

“Oh, I have no idea, it's been there forever,” the woman shrugged. “So, two rooms, two kings?” 

“No, no,” Dean said hurriedly. “We’re brothers. (Y/N)’s just a friend.”

You nodded, feeling slightly upset by being called “just a friend,” but you understood why he did. Still, you wanted him to proudly show you off and claim you as his. “Two queens. And a king, please,” you said, handing her your card. 

Moments later, she handed it back to you along with a key. 

“Thanks,” you told her as she rang the bell on the desk next to her.

“You'll be staying in rooms two-thirty-seven and two-thirty-eight. Sherwin, could you show these people to their rooms?”

You turned to see a balding old man in a black blazer shuffling up behind you. You found him incredibly endearing. He grinned at you, introduced himself, and dragged your clunking duffel bag up behind him.

“I could give you a hand with that,” you suggested to him.

“I got it,” he politely insisted.

You smiled softly at him, grateful.

“So the hotel's closing up, huh?” Sam jumped in.

“Yep. Miss Susan tried to make a go of it, but the guests just don't come like they used to. Still, it's a damn shame,” he explained.

“Oh yeah?”

He went on to explain the history of the hotel; lots of weddings, politicians, and a popular spot for those passing through. He let you into your room, and you tipped him generously before telling him goodbye.

The decor of the room unsettled you quite a bit. An antique wedding dress was displayed on the wall in a weird configuration that almost made it seem like someone was actively wearing it. The room itself was clean, but everything about it made a chill crawl up your spine. You’d take a dilapidated motel room with possible bed bugs over an inn where someone definitely died on the pillow you were going to have to sleep on. 

You connected the victims from the file you put together that both victims were tied up in shutting the hotel down. However, Susan and Sherwin didn’t strike you as the type to be dabbling in spellwork. Given what she said about the urn, you thought it possible that someone who owned the hotel previously or worked here long ago was dealing in hoodoo. 

You caught sight of the little girl running around outside on the playground and heading over to one of the swings. Seeing her so happy sucked you back into your memories.

Reliving your memories always gave you an almost bird’s-eye-view of the situation; you weren’t you. You were standing in the corners of your memories, helpless to change anything and forced to watch your younger self go through those moments all over again.

Your dad was cleaning his guns on the “dining room” table of the motel you were holed up in for the week. You couldn’t have been anymore than ten at the time of this memory. Stevie was playing on the floor of the room with a truck while Scooby-Doo, his favorite cartoon, played in the background on the staticky television. 

“Dad, I want my toys back. I promise I’ll still practice, can I have them back?” you pleaded.

“No can do, kiddo. I sold ‘em,” he replied, not looking up at you. 

“What? Why?” you sniffled, beginning to well up with tears.

“Baby, my job doesn’t pay well. I needed that money to get Stevie his toys,” he sighed. “Besides, you’re better off training with me than playing.”

“But… I don’t wanna train,” you cried softly.

Your father’s head snapped up to you, and he slammed the gun he was cleaning on the table. “Too damn bad. This is important, (Y/N). You’re the big sister. I need you sharp for when mom and I are out.”

“But Dad—”

“(Y/N). Enough,” he stated menacingly.

You cowered away, wiping your nose with the back of your sweater sleeve. 

Your dad picked part of his gun up again. “And cut the crying crap. You’re too big for that.”

Your heart broke as you watched little you trying to stifle your cries. You knew if you kept crying for much longer, your father would be sure to punish you. You wanted nothing more than to hug your smaller self and tell her that it was okay to be sad, and your father was wrong. You watched Steven get up from the floor and bring you his well-loved toy airplane. He offered it up to you, and you took it, smiling through a sniffle. That gesture broke you even more. 

Your brother’s kindness truly knew no bounds. He was often the one to pick up the pieces after you’d gotten into a fight with your father or mother. As much as you tried to be the strong one for your little brother, there were just some things you couldn’t hide from him.

You were sucked into another memory from that stream of consciousness.

“Dad, I wasn’t gonna shoot with you standing in the way! I couldn’t get a clear shot!” you screamed at him. The two of you had gone after a werewolf in Arkansas, leaving your twelve-old-brother and mom back in the motel room. Your dad had insisted you needed to kill this thing yourself as one of the many tests he laid for you to prove your abilities. You were fourteen at the time.

“(Y/N), we’ve discussed this. You always. Take. The shot. No matter what,” he argued.

“What, even if it costs me somebody else’s life?” you protested.

“You should be a good-enough shot that that shouldn’t matter!” he roared. “You and I are going to the range. First thing tomorrow.”

“Dad, no,” you shook your head, backing up in fear. The last time you missed a shot on one of the moving targets, he beat you so hard when you got back to your motel room that he bruised one of your ribs.

He glared at you harshly, stepping closer to you. “What was that?”

“I— I’m sorry,” you said. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Uh-uh,” he said firmly. “You know ‘I didn’t mean to’ doesn’t mean shit. You argued with me. We’ll go to the range every day for the next week.”

You brushed the scar on the right side of your jaw from the beating that followed one of your sessions at the range that week as you came out of the memory. He punched you so hard that he split the skin deeply, and you had to stitch it up yourself. You refused to speak to your father for a month after that.

“I do this because I love you,” he’d said. “I need you to keep getting better, so I know you’ll be safe when you’re on your own. I want you to be even better than me.” 

You’d been doing well with keeping memories like that at bay while you helped Dean and Sam recover from their father’s passing. However, it was beginning to overwhelm you. The mental walls you’d built around those awful memories were beginning to crack. Leaking through those cracks was the memory of having to lay your parents to rest.

Their screams had been horrible. As fangs ripped through their gums, red rimming their eyes as the blood of the recently-decapitated vampire dripped from their lips. Your father approached you first, teeth bared. You ran through the hallways of the abandoned house, trying to find a way out. The windows of the house had been boarded, though, giving you no opportunity to escape. Cornered in a room at the back of the house, you realized what this would likely come to. You gripped the handle of your machete tightly, tears streaming down your face as your father broke into the room by destroying the door. 

“Dad, stop!” you pleaded. He approached you slowly, chest heaving as he noticed a cut on your arm that one of the vampires you’d slaughtered earlier had given you. He stalked toward you, teeth glistening in the room’s dim light.

“Dad, please! Don’t make me hurt you!”

“(Y/N), you have to—” he breathed out. “I can’t control myself—”

You shook your head furiously. “Dad, I won’t—”

“(Y/N)!” he roared. “You have to!”

Your tears flowed freely down your face.

“(Y/N)! Now!” he ordered, just as he reached you. 

Your sobs wracked your body as you sliced his head clean off. Your breath caught in your throat as you heaved, trying your hardest to gain your composure. You knew your mother wouldn’t be far behind him, and you were trying to keep yourself from breaking down and becoming vulnerable to your mother’s attack.

“(Y/N)!” she called. “Baby, please! Please, help me!”

You ran to her despite your instinct telling you not to. When you arrived, she was sobbing on the floor, shaking. You stayed a distance back from her to avoid her lunging at you.

“Baby, please— you have to—”

You shook your head. “Not you, too, Momma. Please—”

“Baby,” she sobbed. “I can’t control it. I don’t wanna be this. Please. Please!”

“Momma, I can’t—” You backed away from her. 

“I won’t be a monster,” she said. “Listen to me.” She temporarily stopped her cries and steadied herself. “You have to. Please. It’s okay.”

You took in a shaky breath.

“(Y/N), I don’t want to hurt you,” she continued. “I don’t wanna hurt Steven. Please.”

At the mention of her potentially hurting your brother, you nodded. “I’m so sorry,” you cried.

“It’s okay, my girl. It’s okay,” she said, closing her eyes in preparation for the blow.

You swung your machete forcefully to make sure her death was quick and as painless as possible. Horrified by your actions, you dropped the machete and screamed. You sank to the floor next to your mother’s body and cried, draping yourself over her bleeding, headless body.

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” you sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

Forcing yourself back to the present moment, you took in a shuddering breath. You pressed your hand to your mouth to keep yourself from crying out as you sank to the floor. You buried your hands in your hair and pulled your knees up to your chest, allowing yourself to cry for the first time in quite a while. 

“(Y/N)?” you heard from the other side of the door.

‘Dean.’ You couldn’t respond due to the hold in your throat trying to suppress your cries.

“(Y/N), I think we got something, you in there?” he tried again.

Still, you couldn’t answer.

You heard him fiddling with the lock for a few moments before entering your room, searching for you frantically. When his eyes landed on your crumpled form, he rushed to your side. “(Y/N), hey, hey.” He held your head in his hands and swiped away tears with his thumbs. “Hey, I’m right here, sweetheart.”

You collapsed into his arms and wrapped your arms around his neck. You buried your face in his chest as you clung to him, and he held your head to him with one hand and held your waist with the other. “Shh, sweetheart, it’s okay.”

Comforted by his presence, your sobs turned to sniffles. You wiped tears away with the backs of your hands and apologized profusely for crying all over him.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “What happened?”

“Just… memories.” Your mind was still hazy.

He nodded solemnly. Neither of you needed to say anything after that. He just held your hand and sat with you against your bed while you tried to collect yourself. When you had, Dean talked again. 

“C’mon,” he said, standing. He pulled you up with him. “You want a burger? I’m starving.”

You snorted, grinning widely, and nodded. 

***

“So,” Dean began through a bite of his cheeseburger, “We think the shut-in granny might be our witch doctor.”

“What makes you say that?” you questioned, chomping a fry.

“She’s got a bunch of creepy ass dolls, Susan was really weird about us going to see her, and they’ve got a creepy ass exact replica of the hotel,” he explained.

“Dolls can be used in hoodoo spellwork,” you considered. “So, I’m guessing after dinner, you and I are lookin’ into the grandma?”

“Yahtzee.”

“What about Sam?”

“Left his ass back at the room. He’s got enough laptop research on his plate to last him enough time for us to look into the history of the hotel at the library.”

“Aw, why’d you do that to him?” you pouted, smiling a little. 

“He’s a nerd. Probably enjoys it,” he shrugged.

“You sure you’re not using this as an excuse to get me alone?” Your tone shifted to slightly more sultry, attempting to tease him.

He chuckled. “Sweetheart, I’m a professional. Just thought the two of us could cover more ground lookin’ up the records together.”

You hummed, unconvinced. “Sure.”

***

When you returned to the inn, police and EMTs were flanking the building. 

“What the fu—” you mumbled, looking around. You spotted Susan, and you and Dean hurried to her. 

“What happened?” Dean asked.

“Oh, the maid went in to turn down the sheets and he was just… hanging there,” she explained, covering her mouth with her hand.

“That's awful. He was a guest?” you asked.

“He worked for the company that bought the place.”

Dean hummed. You’d discussed your theory with him about the spellwork being used against people trying to get rid of the hotel. 

Susan shook her head. “I don't understand.”

“What?” Dean pressed.

“Had a lot of bad luck around here,” she sighed. “Look, if you'd like to check out, I'll give you a full refund.”

Dean shook his head. “No thanks. I don't scare that easy.”

When you arrived at Sam and Dean’s room, Sam had his back turned to the door and was sitting in an armchair.

Dean was all-business as he shut the door behind him. “There's been another one. Some guy just hung himself in his room.”

“Yeah. I saw,” Sam said.

You turned to him, surprised. His tone wasn’t usually that dark.

“We've gotta figure this out, and fast. What'd you find out about Granny?” Dean said, still pacing.

Sam raised his hands sarcastically, mocking his brother. “You’re the boss.”

Dean wheeled around in surprise. “What?”

“You’re bossy. And short,” Sam giggled. He actually giggled.

“Are you drunk?” you asked him.

“Yeah,” he replied, still laughing. “So? Stupid.”

You suddenly noticed the several empty bottles around the room.

“Dude, what are you thinking? We're working a case,” Dean scolded.

Sam began to tear up, staring at nothing. “That guy who hung himself. I couldn't save him.”

“What are you talking about? You didn't know, you couldn't have done anything,” Dean assured.

Sam moved his gaze to his brother. “That's an excuse, Dean. I should have found a way to save him. I should have saved Ava, too.”

Dean approached his brother. “Yeah, well, you can't save everyone. Even you said that.”

Sam slammed the table next to him. “No, Dean, you don't understand, all right? The more people I save, the more I can change!”

“Change what?” you asked.

He leaned forward toward you, a hand to his chest. “My destiny, (Y/N)!” 

“Alright. Time for bed. Come on, Sasquatch.” Dean leaned over and hauled Sam up by the shoulders. “Come on.”

“I need you to watch out for me,” mumbled Sam.

“Yeah, I always do,” Dean said simply.

Sam stopped his brother. “No! No, no, no. You have to watch out for me, all right? And if I ever... turn into something that I'm not… you have to kill me.”

“Sam—” Dean protested.

Sam shoved Dean to get him to face him. “Dean! Dad told you to do it, you have to.”

“Yeah, well, Dad's an ass,” Dean replied. “He never should have said anything. I mean, you don't do that, you don't, you don't lay that kind of crap on your kids.”

“No. He was right to say it!” Sam cried. “Who knows what I might become? Even now, everyone around me dies!”

“Yeah, well, I'm not dying, okay? And neither are you. Neither is (Y/N). Come on. Sam.” 

He pushed Dean down onto the bed, but Sam remained seated, clutching Dean’s jacket. “No, please! Promise.”

Dean shook his head. “Don't ask that of me.”

“(Y/N), please—”

“(Y/N), don’t you dare!” Dean cut his younger brother off.

“Sam, I can’t do that,” you protested.

“(Y/N), please.” Sam stared past his brother at you with sad eyes. “You have to promise me.”

You looked between Sam and Dean. Dean cut his eyes at you harshly. However, you knew Dean could never kill his brother if it really came down to it. You weren’t sure you would, either, but you would rather Dean not have another dead family member to blame himself for.

“I promise,” you mumbled.

“Thanks,” Sam grinned. He extended a hand to you. You grabbed it and squeezed. “Thank you. You are—”

“Alright. Come on,” Dean grumbled. He shoved Sam back on the bed. Sam hugged his pillow and snuggled into it. You stared at him sadly, afraid to meet Dean’s gaze.

You turned and left the room, Dean hot on your heels as you unlocked your door.

“How dare you,” he growled. “What the fuck, (Y/N)?! I’m not gonna let you kill my brother!”

“And I’m not gonna do it, either!” you argued, shutting the door behind him. “But I couldn’t let you promise that. I won’t let you.”

“And why not?!” He roared.

“Because I’m not gonna let you have another death to blame yourself for! You’re falling apart, Dean,” you pointed out. “No matter what I say, you’re always gonna blame yourself for John. I’m sure, in some ways, you blame yourself for your mom. Sam is your world. Trust me, I know how that feels. I won’t let you be the one responsible for his death.” You held your ground as he stepped closer to you. 

“You don’t get to make that call for me, (Y/N)!” he yelled. “I don’t care what happens, you’re not fucking killing Sam.”

“Dean, you think I wanna kill him? Fuck no! He’s family to me,” you retaliated. “You know I wouldn’t do that to him. But I also saw your face. You were gonna promise him, weren’t you?”

He didn’t answer, looking away from you.

“Exactly. I’d rather you blame me than yourself,” you said, voice quieting considerably.

Dean’s turned-away face was set in hard lines, but he seemed to have nothing else to say.

You stepped in front of him and held up your pinky. “I promise you, I won’t make a move on Sam unless it’s absolutely last resort. I promise I’m gonna do everything I can to try and save him, first. And even then, I won’t do anything until you give the okay.”

Dean considered for a moment, and you could see his brain flooding with conflicting thoughts. Finally and wordlessly, he linked your pinky with his.

“My parents begged me to kill them,” you said after a moment. “I didn’t want to. Everything in me screamed at me not to. But I realized they didn’t wanna become something that wasn’t, y’know, them. I can imagine Sam’s in the same spot. Except… he knows it’s coming. He wants to know that if it does happen, we’ll take care of him.”

Dean still didn't say a word to you for another few moments. “I’m gonna get a drink,” he said finally.

“Okay. G’night, Dean.”

***

The next morning, you were afraid to talk to Dean or Sam. You didn’t want Sam to remember the promise you made to him, and you didn’t want Dean to be upset with you because you were trying to protect him and his heart. You didn’t want him to have to cope with the guilt you felt every single day, clawing at your heartstrings and pounding against your memories. 

Knuckles rapped against the door of your room. Having been dressed since three that morning, you opened the door expecting Sherwin or Susan. Instead, it was Sam.

“Oh, hey!” you said cheerfully.

“Hey,” he grimaced.

“Hungover?”

He nodded. “Look, uh, we’re gonna go talk to Rose. You should come with.”

“Sure,” you said. You couldn’t quite gauge if Sam remembered what you, he, and Dean had talked about the night before.

Dean picked the lock to the private quarters after ensuring the room was clear. You headed up a winding staircase to see an old woman, possibly in her nineties, sitting in a wheelchair. She was trembling unceasingly, and you started connecting the dots as to what was going on here.

“Guys… she’s had a stroke,” you explained gently as the two of them were trying to soothe her tremors.

Dean turned and spoke to you for the first time that morning. “Yeah, but Hoodoo's hands-on; I mean, you've got to mix herbs, chant, and build an altar.”

“Yeah. So it can't be Rose,” Sam added. “Hey, maybe it's not even Hoodoo.”

“Or she could be faking,” Dean suggested.

You scoffed. “Yeah, what are you gonna do, poke her with a stick?”

Dean frowned, nodding.

“Dude! You’re not gonna poke her with a stick!” you hissed.

“What the hell?!” came Susan’s voice from behind you. “What are you doing in here?”

You and the brothers babbled, searching for an explanation.

Susan rushed over to her mother. “Look at her, she is scared out of her wits. I want you out of my hotel in two minutes or I'm calling the cops.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you nodded, leaving without hesitation.

***

When you got in the car, Dean pulled just down the road from the hotel to watch the entrance and exits for anything suspicious and searching for an opportunity to go back inside.

You and Dean still hadn’t spoken to each other. It was odd; usually you were talking to each other at a mile a minute. However, to your shock, Dean took out the Metallica cassette tape he promised he’d change and replaced it with your favorite Alice in Chains cassette; “Facelift.” You took it as a sign of goodwill and smiled to yourself.

About an hour or two passed before you saw Susan exiting the hotel and packing boxes into her car. You and the brothers ducked down when you noticed Sherwin driving in your direction. When your heads popped back up, Susan was walking over to the playground at the sight of a swing moving back and forth on its own. Without needing to say anything, you and the boys hopped out of the car and sprinted into the woods to get closer to the situation and help Susan, should anything happen. 

The see-saw moved up and down next, then the rest of the playset. Suddenly, her red car’s engine revved. Sam knew what was going to happen and ran at Susan to tackle her out of the way of the charging vehicle. 

“Are you okay?” he asked her while he pulled her up from the ground.

“I think so,” she replied breathlessly.

“C’mon, let’s get inside, let’s go,” Dean ordered.

Sam helped Susan into the inn and over to the bar.

“Whiskey,” Susan demanded when she sat down.

You headed behind the bar and slid it over to her.

“What the hell happened out there?” she asked.

“You want the truth?” Dean chimed in. 

She nodded.

“Well, at first, we thought it was some sort of Hoodoo curse,” the older brother began, “but that out there? That was definitely a spirit.”

Susan scoffed. “You're insane.”

“Probably,” you shrugged.

“Look, I'm sorry, Susan. We don't exactly have time to ease you into this, but we need to know when your mother had the stroke,” Sam urged.

She looked at him strangely. “What does that have to do with any—”

“Just answer the question.”

“About a month ago.”

You licked your teeth. “Right before the killings started.” 

Sam looked to you and Dean. “See? So what if Rose was working Hoodoo, but not to hurt anyone. To protect them.”

“She was using the five spot urns to ward off the spirit,” Dean noted.

“Right, until she had a stroke, and she couldn't anymore,” the brunet finished.

Susan laughed humorlessly. “I don't believe this.”

“Listen, sister,” Dean grunted, “that car didn't try to run you down by itself, okay? I mean, I guess it did, technically, but, but the spirit can— forget it.”

Sam interrupted his brother’s quickly derailing train of thought. “Look, believe what you want. But the fact is you and your family are in danger, all right? So you need to clear everybody out of here: your employees, your mother, your daughters, everyone.”

“Um, I only have one daughter,” Susan replied.

“One?” Sam questioned. “I thought Tyler had a sister named Maggie.”

“Maggie's imaginary,” she said simply.

‘Fuck,’ you thought. “Where’s Tyler?” you asked, trying to keep your cool.

“Uh, maybe in the playroom,” Susan suggested, sounding frantic. “Tyler!” she called as she burst through its door. 

You were horrified to see the floor littered with broken porcelain dolls, and Susan’s panic became worse. “Oh, my god. Tyler. Tyler!”

“Susan, tell us what you know about Maggie,” Sam demanded.

She tried to steady herself. “Uh, not much. Um, Tyler's been talking about her since Mom got sick.”

“Okay, did you ever know anyone by that name?”

She shook her head.

“No dead relatives?” you chimed in. “Maybe somebody who used to work or live here?”

“Oh, my god,” she realized. “My mom. My mom had a sister named Maggie. She died when she was little.”

“Uh-huh,” you encouraged. “Where?”

“She drowned in the pool!”

***

You and the Winchesters raced to the poolhouse with Susan in tow. You could see Tyler standing on the opposite side of the balcony, leaning forward.

“Tyler!” her mother screamed.

You ran to the other side after spotting a glass window across the way. You took the butt of your gun that was tucked into your jeans and smashed the glass with it. Your breath caught at the sight of Tyler falling into the pool below, screaming. 

Finally, you managed to get the glass broken enough to get through. You dove over the balcony’s railing headfirst toward the little girl wrapped in the plastic tarp from her struggling. You turned on your back and kicked with all your might over to the side of the pool, holding the unconscious girl in your arms. You gently laid her on the pool’s edge, listening for a pulse. Thankfully, it was there, and all you could do was wait to see if she woke up.

Moments later, Tyler sputtered, choking on water, and she woke up.

“Thank god!” Susan cried, pulling her daughter into her lap. “Thank god, thank god.”

Soaking wet, you crawled out of the pool. “Tyler, do you see Maggie anywhere?”

The girl shook her head. “No, she's gone.” She buried her face in her mother’s neck, hugging her tightly. Your heart broke a little at the sight.

You rung your hair out and followed behind Sam and Dean as they discussed Maggie’s potential whereabouts, heading back up to the hotel.

Susan held Tyler close as they climbed the stairs to get the eldest woman in their family and leave the hotel.

Cold and shaking from the pool mixed with the slight chill in the air, your teeth began to chatter. Wordlessly, Dean took his leather jacket off and wrapped it around your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you smiled sheepishly.

Suddenly, Susan screamed loudly. You and the boys ran up the stairs to see Rose slumped over in her wheelchair, dead.

***

Paramedics swarmed about as Sam attempted to comfort Susan and send them off. You were slightly drier, now, having changed into a different set of clothes. Still, you kept Dean’s much larger jacket wrapped around your body. The man in question leaned against the Impala next to you.

“Are… are we okay?” you asked suddenly.

He turned to you, arms crossed. “I don’t know, are we?”

You grimaced. “I just, after last night, I just wanted to make sure that—”

“Yeah, (Y/N), we’re fine. But I don’t wanna keep bringing it up.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

A moment of tense silence passed. Then, he draped his arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Promise. We’re fine.”

You stuck out your pinky. He chuckled and linked yours with his.

Sam approached you and Dean, still seeming confused by the two of you. He shook his head, though, deciding against asking. 

“Feels good getting back in the saddle, doesn't it?” Dean smirked at his brother.

“Yeah, it does,” Sam nodded. “But it doesn't change what we talked about last night, Dean.” 

“We talked about a lot of things last night.” Dean’s voice had a warning edge to it.

“You know what I mean.”

“You were wasted.”

“But she wasn’t. And she promised,” Sam said.

You looked up at him. “Sam—”

“You promised, (Y/N).”

You had nothing to say to that. “But I am gonna try everything in my power not to have to do that,” you added. 

Sam nodded solemnly. The three of you got in the car without speaking to each other and cruised down the road as Alice in Chains played in the background. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[jjkeremika]

Valentine

description: AoT men and women asking you to on a valentine's date <3

pairing: Levi; Armin; Jean; Erwin; Eren & Mikasa; Historia; Zeke; Reiner x reader

Levi

Levi stood at your apartment door with flowers and concert tickets to your favorite band. He shifted his weight between his heels and toes as he nervously wondered if he should turn back before you realized he had arrived.

Two solid knocks and a light pause later, you opened the door to his stoic demeanor, his lips relaxing into a smile at the sight of you in comfy clothes. He briefly glanced down to his ratty jeans and aged leather jacket. “Hey,” he greeted after clearing his throat, regretting his appearance. He felt he should've dressed up for you.

“Levi, hey!” you returned excitedly, about to pull him in for a hug when you noticed the flowers in his hand. You didn’t comment on them. “What are you doing here? Oh! Come on in!”

You dragged him by his forearm inside, closing the door behind you. “Oh, I was just,” he said quietly, shrugging, “around. And,” Levi lifted the flowers, shifted the weight between his feet. “I saw these and thought of you.”

“Awh, Levi, they’re beautiful!” You eagerly took the flowers from him, brought them to your nose for a long sniff. “Thank you.” You hugged him with one arm before pulling away and rushing to your kitchenette. “Let me just get a vase. Make yourself comfortable as always.”

He followed you to the kitchen, stood awkwardly in the doorway and tried to not blatantly gawk at your figure as you bent over to search the cabinets for the vase.

“I, uh, also saw that Linked Horizon are coming on the fourteenth. Did you s—?”

“Oh my god, yeah!” you exclaimed, hopping up from your position in the cabinet, the ornate glass in your palms. “I saw that!” You filled the glass with water and a spoon of sugar. “But I never bought tickets and now it’s sold out.”

Levi rubbed the papery tickets against each other in his pocket. He watched as you used shears to cut the bottoms off the stems. He pulled his hand out of his jacket pocket.

“Well, if you’re not busy that day…” You carefully dropped each stem in the water, rearranging the flowers and tossing the fallen leaves and petals. He stepped into the room, drawing your attention, and held the two tickets openly. “I’d like to go with you.”

Armin

Working at the library was honestly one of your favorite parts of the day. It was slow, mindless, relaxing, and quiet. The ambiance was kind, and any sour moods evaporated instantly once you entered those archaic arched doors.

Since it was a library, you didn’t really speak with your coworkers beyond necessity, but the blond boy who spent his time at the admin desk always caught your attention—and he was always already looking to you.

The two of you spoke in an unintelligible morse code, an unspoken language of wordless greetings and longing thoughts and lingering stares.

When you both started speaking, it was by bonding over a love of puzzles and logic traps. Armin and you shared stories of writing and interpreting ciphers and tricks, discussed possibilities of work-related games for entertainment.

On the twelfth, you started your shift with the return cart, and a large note in black ink stopped you from starting the task. For Y/N, please review the following, it read, proceeded by four rows each with four columns containing a decimal value and three numbers.

You recognized the decimal shorthand and spotted the books already on the return cart. You picked up the first one and reviewed the set of numbers, eventually determining it as indicators for the desired page number, line, and word.

Once you deciphered the message, you smiled and felt the warm flutter in your belly. You dragged the cart upstairs to the main entrance, stopped outside the administration room to see the familiar fluffy blond hair poking over the computer screen.

Wordlessly you entered and sauntered over to his desk, dropped the sheet of paper with the decoded message and your answer on his desk and left with a wink, leaving him with amazed wide eyes and an open jaw as you left the room.

Will you be my valentine?

—Yes x

Jean

Connie told him the traditional approach was stupid and uninteresting. “It’s y/n! They’re cool and fun and hilarious and awesome! You can’t do something unbelievably lame like you always do,” Connie had rambled in an eccentric voice that now haunted Jean’s thoughts.

“Fucking Connie,” Jean cursed to himself as he fixed his hair in the reflection of the window, trying to maintain his balance as the train rushed over unsteady tracks. He nervously glanced down at his watch, frantically grabbed the handlebar when the tram lurched to a stop.

Jean hopped off and rushed to the bar at which the two of you had decided to meet. He spotted you instantly, in the tight red fuzzy sweater vest and still perfectly fitting baggy jeans. He regretted his overly dressed up appearance with his matching suit and pink tie for somehow still lacking.

“Y/n,” Jean leisurely greeted with an eager grin and sparkling eyes, feeling his body warm up at the quick embrace you gave, “thank you for meeting me here.”

You gestured to the free seat next to you; he sat down. “Oh, Jean, it’s my pleasure,” you said with a smile, “thank you for asking me here.”

The conversation flowed naturally, and Jean felt himself warming up from your attention, the drink, or the room. He slid his jacket off and tugged on his necktie in a failed attempt to cool off.

You noticed the pink tint on his skin and the faint hitch in his breath. You noticed the awkward tugging on his necktie, that he was wearing a necktie at all. You noticed the smile he hid when you touched his arm with your long fingernails, when your thigh brushed against his.

As the night neared its end and he still hadn’t asked, the adrenaline rushed through his veins and he heard Connie’s cynical voice echo in his brain. He felt his stomach drop with each glance towards you, because he was convincing himself he couldn’t ask, couldn’t be worth more than nothing to you.

“I’d really like to see you again,” you hinted while you both stood on the pavement, “soon.” You felt the heat burning into your skull. The shocked expression on his face was tortuous. Maybe it was all in your head. Maybe that was too far.

Maybe it was far enough. “Y/n… would you maybe like to spend Valentine’s day with me?”

Erwin

You had visited the older instructor’s office to ask some questions on the class content, to seek some extra support on upcoming assignments.

Connie had told you Smith was the most helpful of the instructors, but you neglected to factor in the biceps the size of your head, the voice that was smooth like margarine, the eyes that stranded you alone at sea. His help was marginalized by his distracting features, by the concerned expression when he asks if you understand contrasting his brilliant smile and demeanor when you say yes.

And did it really matter if you only understood when it came from him?

His elbow bumped into yours as he leaned to the side, closer to you, to view your page. "Y/n," he started, his leg brushing against yours as he uncrossed his thighs and leaned back in the chair, the skin tingling in his touch's memory, "would it help to meet regularly?"

The question alone caught you by surprise, but paired with his heavy tone, thick with uninterpretable layers, and a curious expression with a piercing blue, watchful gaze. You barely heard him tap his foot over the blood roaring in your ears.

"We can start with an additional meeting on the..." Erwin trailed off, clicking through his online tabs to find the calendar. "The fourteenth." He punctuated his sentence with a click on the date, your eye catching the empty schedule as it appeared on the screen. He turned to you. "We can start then and take it from there."

"O-Okay," you agreed, nodding in sync with the faint throb in your pelvis as your brain reeled with the improbable. "Thank you." Your voice was quiet, and you barely heard yourself speak.

"Absolutely," he breathed out, "more than happy to help." He glanced you up and down, rested his chin between his thumb and fingers to hide his lips, his light blue eyes darkening. "I'll order us something to eat too."

Eren & Mikasa

Mikasa was scribbling your and her names in the corner of her notebook page, actively drawing the small heart around it, when Eren suddenly and loudly slid into the seat next to her, causing her to jump and draw a line through the doodle. She hid it with her palm.

Eren looked at her with a bold desperation in his eyes. “Mikasa, I’ve been thinking about asking y/n out for Valentine’s…” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked to the side sheepishly. “Do you have any ideas?”

Mikasa’s eyes widened. “O-oh,” she stuttered out, taking a half-breath to quell the unsettling feeling in her gut, “I, um.” She glanced to the palm covering the doodle. “I’ve been wondering the exact same thing actually…” She swallowed dryly. “With y/n, too…”

It’s not that she expected him to be upset, but she was surprised when his eyes lit up in a mix of excitement and relief. He perked up, straightened his spine and leaned towards Mikasa. “Let’s ask together! We can do, like, a three-person date.” He shrugged, tried to contain his eagerness. “I’m not against it. But I still have no fucking clue how to ask.”

You entered the room mid-sentence, both of their eyes focusing to you as you crossed the room to a desk. You glanced up from your phone to see both of them already looking at you, both smiling and waving immediately.

“Hey, babes,” you greeted the two of them, affectionately fixing the out-of-place strand of hair near Mikasa’s forehead. You turned to Eren and smiled wider at his eager anticipation. “I was addressing you too,” you clarified, rubbing his shoulder.

Eren leaned into your touch. “Do you have any Valentine’s plans?” Mikasa asked, playing with her pen. You spotted the heart near her hand.

You started to feel warm, flattened your lips to try to suppress the growing grin but eventually bit your bottom lip. “Not currently. Sounds like I might in a minute, though,” you responded with a wink, smiled wider at the light pink stretching across her nose.

Eren’s voice caught your attention, and you suddenly became aware of the arm he snaked around your waist under your backpack, noticed that your arm had slid along his shoulders, “Would you... want to spend it with us?” he asked nervously, before rushing out, “It doesn’t have to be a date, but, well—”

The heat settled in your stomach, and you felt your pulse in each body part. Your smile twitched at the question—at the implication.

“Yes,” you interrupted Eren’s rambling with a confident answer to a question you’ve never considered before, but now will never forget, “I’d love to spend it with you two. As a date.”

Historia

Ymir had the largest scowl on her face when Historia shyly walked over to you, a pink blush on her cheeks and a sweaty hairline. You shifted uncomfortably under Ymir’s gaze when your eyes flicked to the blonde girl standing in front of you, looking at the floor.

“Hey, y/n,” she started quietly, her cute, high-pitched voice singing in your ear, “how’s your day going?” She had a sickeningly sweet smile, one that made your stomach flip and turn with nerves. You felt your inhale cut short as she stared at you with big, rounded blue eyes.

"Good, thanks," you answered with a smile, “how’s yours?” You continued to pack your bag with your notebooks, ignoring the uncomfortable heat of Ymir’s bold glare.

“Better now,” she answered, a light rouge appearing on her cheekbones. The giddy feeling erupted in your gut and bubbled into a doey smile. “Do you have Valentine’s plans yet?”

You shook your head, tugging on the last zipper. “Nope,” you answered casually, unbothered by the notion of being single on the love holiday, “i’ll probably watch a movie at home.”

“Oh, good idea! I love movies!” Historia added, the grin taking up her face. “I..." The tips of her ears tinted pink. "I don’t have plans either." She rocked back and forth on her heels, clutched her notebook a little closer to her chest. "Would you want to watch a movie together?”

You corrected your posture and returned her soft gaze. "Yeah," you answered with an exhale, started to put your backpack on. "I'd really like that."

Zeke

Zeke haphazardly handed you the blunt, the leaflet threatening to slip from your fingertips and fall from the third story window. “Ze, careful,” you told the older man, rolling your eyes despite the smile lingering on your pursed lips, “you’re gonna’ make me drop it.”

He snorted, settling with an open mouthed smile. You watched the faint red appear around his cerulean eyes. “I can’t make you do anything.” He stretched his hand out, silently requesting the roll back.

You crossed your legs, took a long huff, then passed it over. Your fingers brushed against his, the light sensation tickling the skin for moments after. “If you hand it off wrong and I drop it, that’s your fault,” you explained simplistically, shrugging to emphasize the easiness of it all.

The smoke curled around his beard, followed the lines of the glasses resting on top of his head. He flicked the wrap, spent ash falling to the windowsill. “But I didn’t make you drop it,” Zeke retorted, blowing some residual smoke into your face. He chuckled as you closed your eyes and swatted the contaminant away.

“But you played a direct role!” You reached over and stole the blunt from him before he brought it between his lips; the blond man laughed as he let you take it, watched intently as you brought it to your own. “Wouldn’t have happened without you,” you mumbled with a long exhale, the picturesque smoke rolling off your tongue.

Zeke leaned against the wall, let his wrist rest against his knee, and tilted his head. His smile softened the longer he stared at you directing smoke and ash out the window. “I also play a direct role in asking if you want to have dinner with me on the fourteenth, but I can’t make you say yes.”

You looked out the window, suppressing the blushing grin by biting your lip. You affectionately rolled your eyes at his redirection. Not the same thing—like at all. “It’s different when you know I will,” you retorted, taking a hit and holding it until it burned, still avoiding eye contact.

“So… you will?” He eyed you carefully, handed the rest of the blunt to you and dropped his glasses onto his nose. “Say yes, I mean?” Zeke nudged your foot with his.

The roll slipped from your fingers as you focused on hiding your red cheeks and toothy grin behind your palm. “Well, obviously, yeah,” you answered sheepishly. You spotted the wrap on the wooden floor. “And see! You made me drop it!”

Reiner

You patted into the kitchen to find Reiner in front of the stove, steam rising from the pans as he shifted between items. You admired his bare back, the smooth, silky-looking skin intimately caressing tight, bulky muscles interrupted only by the thin linen apron straps.

The sudden noise of the espresso machine caused you to jump and squeal, which brought Reiner's attention to you. He hurried over, gave you a quick kiss to the cheek. "You weren't supposed to wake up yet," he murmured between more kisses, eventually pressing his lips to yours for a lingering lock.

"I can smell everything from the next room," you responded, lightly tapping his firm chest and kissing his lips again. He pulled away to attend to the aromatic contents on the stove. You sat on a bar stool. “Smells delicious, by the way.”

You saw the way his thin lips morphed into a pleased smile. “Should taste so, too,” he hummed his agreement, turned his back towards you for five more minutes. You indulged in the sight, feeling your own pupils dilate to take in more of his broad shoulders and tailored back.

Then he was making a lot of ruckus, rapidly opening drawers to find utensils and rushing to and from the fridge for toppings and ingredients. He was tossing food onto one plate and carefully aligning it on another.

You slipped off the stool to peak over, smiled at his concentrated brows and peaking tongue as he drizzled chocolate onto the dish.

You were right behind him when he turned around with the dish ostentatiously in his hands, his kind blue eyes sparkling with pride and excitement and anticipation.

You audibly gasped and brought your hands to your open smile. “Reiner! Wow!” you said astonished, hearing and feeling your stomach rumble with hunger at the sight of the heart-shaped pancakes with a chocolate lace drizzle, at the bacon and eggs and toast arranged on the side.

He waited for you to read the hidden message, the note written in jam on the toast. You giggled, took the plate from him to put on the counter, and embraced him. “I’d love to be your valentine,” you said with a long kiss.

[s4bbatical]

My Love | Declan O’Hara x Reader (One Shot Fluff)

Summary: You and your husband Declan have been feeling the weight of Venturer begin to affect your relationship, causing strain on you both. You eventually break down after Declan snaps at you, causing him to comfort you because he just loves you so much. (Kept this one gender neutral, every declan lover deserves a little fan service. <3)

Requested by Moon~!

━━━━━━☆━━━━━━

It had been a long, dreadful day for you and Declan. The morning started off argumentative, and your team meetings were just the same. Declan was unable to agree with anyone’s suggestions, even your own. His poor attitude was upsetting to everyone around you.

You found yourself arriving home a bit earlier than your husband, as Venturer was getting under your skin. You had only hoped his mood would turn around before he returned to the house within the hours of your absence, although you had a feeling that wouldn’t be the case.

After making dinner and some tea, you found yourself cozied up by the fireplace, reading a book from your personal library. You feel a cold breeze as the front door opens then closes, Declan muttering harshly under his breath as he places down his briefcase. You stand up as he takes a step into the kitchen, already pouring himself a glass.

“Declan,” You say, walking over. “How was the rest of the day?” You ask, standing on the opposite side of the counter.

He begins to laugh dryly, setting down his glass. “What a great fucking question that is.” He retorts, taking off his blazer and tossing it over a dining chair. “Fucking bunch of idiots with their heads cut off! No one knows how to do their job.” He sighs heavily, placing his head in his hands. “I feel like the only one who knows what the fuck I’m doing, y/n.” He says, his voice muffled by his palms.

“I hardly doubt they’re purposely doing so, we’re all trying our best.” You reason.

“Oh, is that why you left early then?” He quips, taking a sip of his whiskey.

“Declan,” You slowly walk around the counter to stand beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder cautiously. “It’ll be okay–“

“Like fucking hell it will be.” He chuffs, pushing your hand away. He grabs his glass and moves over to the living space, sitting down in an armchair before continuing to wallow in his anger.

You stand there in dismay, your mouth slightly agape. You hurriedly walk over to your husband, hands on your hips. “Look, you need to tell me what has put a stick up your arse because I don’t understand why you’re acting like a child. You’ve been short with me all day Declan.” You say sternly.

“Just leave me alone, y/n! I’m fucking exhausted and you nagging at me is not going to make a difference!” Declan yells at you harshly, causing you to retract. His face drops as he realizes how critical he’s being. He watches as your eyes well up in tears.

You knew the stress of his work was always going to cause inner turmoil for himself, but he had never yelled at you like that before.

“I’m sorry.” You say flatly, walking away from Declan.

“Y/n, wait.” He says, getting up from his seat to follow you.

“I can’t deal with your fucking poor attitude, Declan!” You yell, facing him as you stop him in his tracks. Tears begin to roll down your cheeks, out of anger more than being upset. “I have been trying so hard to make sure I’m doing my part by taking care of you and making sure you’re not upset all the god damn time. But you always are! There’s always something wrong!” You exasperate, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt. “Ever since you left The Corinium to do Venturer you’ve just been pissed off all the time, I can’t stand it.” You add bitterly.

“Y/n–“ Declan tries to interject.

“No, it’s fine. I’m going to bed. You just go sit down.” You mutter, unable to make eye contact with Declan.

“Y/n please, I didn’t realize how much of a toll this has taken on you. I’ve just been so stressed, I-I shouldn’t have yelled like that. I’m so sorry.” He whispers, stepping forward and placing his hands on your cheeks to help you look up at him. “I love you, so much. Please forgive me.” He says, looking at you with sorrow.

“I’m just trying to help you.” You say softly, placing your hands overtop his. “I feel like a horrible partner.” You whisper, trying not to cry again.

“Y/n, god no!” Declan exclaims. “Don’t ever say that. It’s bollocks.” He assures you, pulling you into a warm embrace. “I couldn’t ask for anything more from you, you’re incredible my love. This is my fault.” He whispers, holding you tight as you begin to calm down. “You’re one of the few good things I’ve got left, I’d be damned to screw that up too.” He sighs, stroking your hair.

“I know.” You try to jest, earning a small laugh from your husband. “I forgive you Declan. Just please, don’t ever yell at me like that ever again.” You request.

Declan nods. “Of course, never again my love.” He says.

“And,” You pull back to look at him. “I love you too.” You say, pressing a kiss on his lips.

Declan smiles into it, peppering your face and neck with more kisses as you giggle.

“You’re such an idiot.” You say, causing him to laugh again.

“I’m your idiot, y/n.” He replies, sliding his arms around your waist. “Fancy watching some telly with me?” He asks.

“Only if you rub my feet.” You grin widely, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Declan scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully. “Yeah, sure my love.”

-

Moonnn i hope you enjoyed this one shot! it’s actually my first one ever so that goes for all of you hehe. my requests are open so don’t be afraid to tap in :-))

as always,

isabel

[burningcheese-merchant]

PLEASE FEED US MORE JUST AS DOWN BAD GOLDEN CHEESE. PLEASE MORE YANDERE CHEESE

Did you send two asks in a row screaming for more Accidental Yandere Golden Cheese lol. Calm down brotato, Merchant is here. Merchant sees you (and everyone else in my inbox I swear to God Almighty I will address you all eventually). Let me see what I've got in my noodle for you

Under the cut because this is fucked and gets a little extra graphic at one particular point lol

Golden Cheese actually has tried to gather the identities of those Burning Spice has murdered. What she wasn't able to glean on her own, from her own personal knowledge of other lands and peoples (i.e. noticing certain traits she knows to be endemic to certain cultures, like a hair accessory or something), she found in books and scrolls in her kingdom's library that gave her a better idea. Whatever she couldn't find in those, she found via sending cheesebirds to travel far and wide in search of any kingdoms, cities, villages, families and friend groups with confirmed missing persons. They would report back to her and, with all the knowledge she's gathered, she's able to find a name, which she then wrote onto a label and placed under the person it belonged to. She's managed to eventually give all the heads their identities/personhood back, at least to some degree. And now, knowing who these people are/were, she can get them back to their loved ones easier. Right? ...Right? (She tries not to progress beyond being proud of herself for going that extra mile, because it just leads back to "ok so why are the heads still here, why haven't you returned them". In trying to do the right thing, she ultimately just does the WRONG thing again and reinforces her preexisting guilt and shame, because... she knows exactly why she hasn't returned them...)

Golden has started... experimenting with Spice, for lack of a better term. After she was proven correct about him paying attention when she mentions someone she doesn't like and later killing that specific person for her, she starts testing him in other ways. She makes subtle suggestions about how he ought to kill people, to see how he responds in the moment and if he actually ends up doing it later. She tries to coax him into going into detail about how the killing went, just to see if and how he does so (turns out he really does like to brag about his crimes, especially to her). She tries to hint at him giving her other things besides body parts, like certain trinkets (it... sort of works. If she asks for a watch, he... brings her a severed arm with a watch attached to it still, for example). She's observing how far he'll go and in which direction he's willing to travel in at her suggestion. (...And she revels in how much power it turns out she has over him. She really does have him at her beck and call. It's lovely.)

When her friends ask her how she's been managing her Beast (they are aware that hers is still actively targeting her, but that's it), she acts as nonchalant as possible. Burning Spice is nothing. He's just a fly buzzing around her head. She handles him just fine. When they ask her how they can help, she tells them she doesn't need it, because she doesn't want them anywhere near him she really is fine. It's fine. She's fine. When they suggest going after him themselves... thank goodness she's a good actress and a quick thinker, because her very first REAL reaction was seething fury that she had to keep under control until she was alone again - but then, when she finally is, she just has another crisis of conscience, because now she has to confront the fact that she can no longer tolerate the notion of him being harmed by anyone besides herself. She used to want him dead or imprisoned by any means necessary, but now... now, she lies about his whereabouts to everyone who asks (and she always knows where he is, she snuck a tracking device onto him), because she doesn't want anyone coming near him for any reason anymore, least of all to harm him. Because only SHE can harm him now. He still comes to fight her, not just to give her things. And she obliges him, albeit begrudgingly (never mind the sick satisfaction she feels when she hurts him or takes him down. She wonders if this feeling is what he's referring to in those letters about him reveling in their battles and how he enjoys her suffering). She... she won't let that end. She won't let anyone get in the way. In his way. In THEIR way. She can handle him by herself. Everyone else can stay home. They won't take him away from her. She cannot guarantee their safety if they try.

She once idly wondered about his past. About the people he likely once had in his life. About... if he'd ever been fond of any other women. She could hardly fathom the hatred that utterly overwhelmed her senses when the thought entered her mind. So angry was she that she broke the glass of water in her hand in said anger and injured herself. So haunted by this notion did she end up, that she tried to ask him about it the next time they met (as subtly as possible; she understands the implications of asking such a thing). He just shrugged and said he didn't recall; the only woman that mattered to him was her. She hated how relieved she felt when he told her that...

...but after that day, and for a good while, he only targeted women. He kept killing adult women and bringing their heads to her, and no one else's. She quickly surmised that he might have noticed her jealousy (or at least imagined she was jealous) and immediately set out to prove his devotion to her further than before by destroying those she feels threatened by - even if the threat does not exist, for she is all he ever wanted. He never told her directly, but she figured that's what it was. And she allowed herself to believe it. Because it made her happy.

(When the women-only killing spree eventually ended, she was struck with morbid curiosity and asked him about the men he killed. Was there anything behind the ones he chose? He revealed to her that, though his targets were mostly random, he would go out of his way to kill any man that he thought she might find attractive. He was capable of feeling threatened, just like she was. It was quite the surprise... a surprise she welcomed, a surprise she found deeply amusing. Because really, what was left for her to find attractive in anyone anymore, when no one went as far as he did to earn her favor?)

She actually does find him handsome. She always has, from the beginning. It was something she considered to be a great shame; such good looks squandered on such a horrible man. But now... with her greed slowly spiraling out of control thanks to him constantly overfeeding it the way he does with his violent extremism... she's starting to dare to find that extremism handsome, too. She's slowly but surely ceasing to find any shame in the circumstance. She's starting to think he's handsome... and that's it, that's the end of the thought. He's handsome, with all of that blood coating his face and body. He's handsome, puffing his chest out and beaming with such sick pride at the handiwork he performed for her. He's handsome, in his maddened, unwavering dedication to her. He's handsome... no asterisk, no addendum, no ifs ands or buts. He's handsome. Burning Spice is handsome. It weighs on her like a stone. And it only gets heavier each time he sees him and his handsome face again.

Sometimes... just sometimes... she'll reread those letters that are particularly... steamy. There's something rather fascinating about them, in a different way than the others. They're so... uniquely visceral. She believes him when he tells her he's starving; his hunger practically lunges at her from the page, claws at her, sinks its teeth into her, sets her body alight. Pure, unashamed, blistering hot lust and sexuality, with some of that same addiction to violence mixed in (he's a sadomasochist, go figure). People have flirted with Golden before... but not like this. No one on earth has ever dared to speak to her so brazenly, not even after several pints of liquid courage. He talks about wanting to break her bed as well as she herself. He tells her how often he touches himself to the thought of her. He details exactly where he wants to put his hands. Where he wants to put his mouth. What he intends to say straight into her ears as they go, and what he wants her to say back to him. How he doesn't want to stop until they both collapse with exhaustion. Just neverending feverish rants about he wishes to destroy her in more ways than one, and how he expects her to scream and beg either way. She won't admit it, not even to herself, the thought tried to make itself known inside of her head once and she shoved it down and tried to bury it under concrete instantly, but... she's almost... intrigued. She's flattered, of course. She relishes this aspect of his insatiable appetite for her alongside all the others. (She likes being told she's pretty. He does that and then some.) But... some small part of her is... curious. Curious about... if he really would follow through on what he says he wants to do, if he really had the chance. How it would feel. How HE would feel. What the difference would really be between him overpowering her to win a fight and him overpowering her to... to...

...there are nights where she lays awake, drilling holes into the ceiling with her bloodshot eyes, wondering where it all went wrong. There are nights where all that succeeds in putting her to sleep are the warm, bitter tears that stream down her face when the guilt and shame grow too powerful. There are nights where she just gets up and leaves, throws herself out of her own window and flies off somewhere, anywhere, it doesn't matter - it just had to be somewhere she couldn't feel dozens of empty, lifeless eyes watching her through the walls. Judging her. Condemning her. Damning her to Hell, where she and the monster who ended their lives belonged.

...and then, there are nights where she feels... strange. Where she notices how... big her bed really is, and how small she feels laying in it. She wonders how it would feel if he was there. If she could nest in his thick, strong arms instead of thin bedsheets. How much more comfortable his chest would feel, compared to her pillow. If his hair was as soft as it looked. How he'd react if she started tracing his tattoos with her fingertips. If sharing a tender moment like that would awaken something in him. If it would somehow help him realize how wrong all of this is.

...Or maybe it would just make it worse.

Maybe she doesn't care anymore.

[daycourtofficial]

My love should be celebrated

Pairing: Nesta Archeron x Rhysand’s Sister!reader

Summary: based on this request - you have been trying for months to help Nesta heal, catching feelings for her in the process. One night you decide to bare your feelings for her, only to be callously rejected.

Author’s note: first time writing wlw!! Please lmk how you feel about it. Also this is basically SF but with a different love interest, however I’m rewriting that Nesta lives in a hovel bc like why tf are there slums in Velaris

(1k celebration masterlist 🍾)

“Go away,” Nesta says, closing the door on your face.

“Nesta!” You yell, banging on the door again.

You didn’t hear her steps recede down the hall of her apartment or any other noise from the other side of the brown door, brass letterings spelling ‘4D’ on it.

“I brought soup!” You cringe at the desperation in your voice, but you couldn’t help it. Your thoughts had whirled and swirled of the eldest Archeron sister for months. You have no clue why - she was never close or particularly kind to you, but you always found yourself wondering how she was.

Your thoughts would redirect to her during the day.

Had she eaten?

Was she sleeping?

You could ensure she had access to food, at the very least. So you had spent the afternoon preparing several different meals - soups, dinners, lunches, fresh fruits and vegetables.

You hadn’t let yourself think about actually interacting with Nesta until after you had knocked on her door. Your thoughts weren’t able to linger too long on that as Nesta opened the door, took one look at you, and sneered out a delightful, “go away,” before shutting you out.

You sighed, “I have fruits, cheeses, I made you a ton of food, Nesta. Please at least take it in inside. It’d make me feel better to know you at least had some food available.”

Nesta opens the door, her arms crossed as she fixes an icy glare at you, “do you find me so incompetent I’m incapable of getting groceries?”

Your eyes widen, shocked at how she’d perceive this, “gods, no, Nesta. I just thought-“

“Thought what? I’m too stupid to know how to cook for myself?”

She didn’t move a muscle as she kept you in place with that icy look on her face, blonde hair in a messy braided crown, as if she had slept in it.

“No, I just-I just- I wanted you to have a nice meal,” you stammer out, feeling like an utter fool for how sour this went.

“Then why did you cook it?”

With that, she slammed the door in your face, her footsteps receding on the other side.

-

You knock on Nesta’s door again, the same place you were this time last week. This time the scenario was different.

Your brother had given her a choice: the human lands or the House of Wind.

You found it an incredibly callous choice - certain death or forced isolation, so you asked Rhysand if you could at least be there with her. He reluctantly agreed, asking you and Azriel to stay in the House of Wind, monitoring her progress.

You were at her new bedroom door, letting her know that you were about to make dinner for all three of you. If she wanted to join you and Azriel, she could, or you could bring her a serving.

You received no reply. You could hear her heart beating through the door, it’s rhythm a clear beat through the silence of her room.

You turn, heading down the stairs to prepare dinner. You and Azriel ate in a comfortable silence, discussing the day you two had, swapping notes about the books you were reading. Nesta never showed, and you left a plate for her outside her door.

A plate you saw untouched the next morning.

The next few days took the same form - you go downstairs, prepare a beeakfast for you and Nesta, leaving her serving outside her door. Then you head to the Library to work on your studies, returning to the house for lunch.

Every meal you made a large enough portion for Nesta, plated it, leaving it at her door to go untouched until the next meal was left.

After a week of this cycle, you ask Clotho if there’s any work that can be done in the library.

Yes, I could use some assistance with restocking the shelves, she wrote.

“Fantastic,” you tell her, “I have the perfect female for the job - I’ll let her know.”

And you did, later that night. Through the door you told her about the library, and how “they need someone to help stock the shelves. It’s monotonous work, but at least you’ll move around a good bit. And it’s something to do.”

You don’t hear anything, and that causes you to ramble a bit, “not that you don’t have anything to do. It’s just - the priestesses are nice and the library’s nice and you’d get to be away from me and Az. So, uh, yeah. Bye, Nes.”

After the disastrously embarrassing way you had told Nesta about helping Clotho, you had written off any chance of her doing so. You were doubly shocked to hear it from Azriel, who told you that Nesta actually helped him procure a book he required.

Another week goes by, and Nesta has been working in the library every day, and she even began attending meals with you and Azriel.

She didn’t really acknowledge your existence at them, but you tried nonetheless. Every day you tried - you tried to talk about books, about the theater, about ballets, about the history of Velaris, hell you even began trying to get her to rank the Vanserras in order of most to least fuckable.

She would hardly speak to you, except occasional taunts and jabs. It came to a head at the end of the week when Cassian began staying at the house as well, and began training Nesta and several of the priestesses.

She’d be away for most of the day, between training and her work, so you only saw her at evening meals. She had only just began training, but she seemed lighter, as if she was crawling out of the darkness.

You were proud of her, she was doing the impossible. She was getting stronger, and Cassian and Azriel said she was even making friends with some of the priestesses.

All of her progress did nothing to help the relationship between the two of you. It still stung when she would disregard you. When you’d ask her a question and she’d blatantly ignore you to speak to Azriel.

The weeks of this iciness continue, until one night in the library you’ve had enough.

“Nesta, can I speak with you about something?”

They were the first words you had spoken all day, spending the day trying to plot out this conversation to the best of your abilities.

Nesta sighs, not looking up from her book. “If it’s quick and I don’t have to do anything.”

You sit on the couch she’s sprawled out on, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Um actually I wanted to ask - why do you like Azriel and Cassian much more than you like me?”

Nesta scoffs, eyes going back to her book. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“Well, Nes I actually wanted to tell you I uh-“

Nesta rolls her eyes, waving her hand. “If you truly can’t understand why I prefer their company, perhaps you’d be better off learning how to be less annoying and how to stop following me around like a starved dog.”

Your face heats with embarassment, fists clenching to keep your sob in, but Nesta’s not finished. She blinks her icy gray eyes up at you over her book.

“What? You think I didn’t know you had a pathetic little crush on me? Please. You practically drool every morning when you see me. I’ve seen you up at the training ring watching me.”

Hot tears start streaming down your face.

“Run along, go find someone else to bother. Perhaps they’ll give you a collar and a bone. Maybe even a bed.”

You shoot up, bursting through the library, out the double doors. You push past a confused Azriel before bounding down the stairs, seeking the quiet shelter of your room.

You had been staying here for a few months to help Nesta. She had gotten better, despite your attempts at connecting with her.

There was no reason for you to stay.

You waited until you could stop crying for an hour before darting to Azriel’s room, knocking softly. He opens the door, surprised to find you on the other side of it.

He wants to ask, knowing that your red rimmed eyes are likely because of Nesta. But he doesn’t pry.

He never had.

That’s why you came to him and not Cassian. Cassian would have made you tell him what was wrong, and then he would have yelled at Nesta for being mean to you.

You just wanted to leave. You didn’t want to see her again.

“Can you- uh, can you take me home? I know it’s late, but I’ve stayed here for too long. I should go back to the townhouse.”

You swallow, not able to look him the eye. You felt so… stupid. You knew she didn’t like you, and still your heart couldn’t help beating faster whenever her eyes met yours.

Azriel nods softly, a motion you don’t see, but he surprises you by taking you into his arms, holding you gently, and rubbing your back.

The action makes keeping the tears at bay much harder.

He lets go, not mentioning the tears now lining your face, as he opens his door, letting you in, and walks towards his balcony. He gently lifts you up, and the two of you fly off into the night.

-

Azriel had been conflicted these past few months. He had hoped bringing Cassian into the mix would make Nesta be nicer to you.

He was wrong.

Somehow his presence had made things worse. His heart practically broke in half seeing you rush out of the room, so upset over something Nesta had said.

And then you came to his room in the dead of night, asking to leave only a few hours later.

Azriel wasn’t irrationally confrontational. He preferred to sit in the shadows, observe, let life happen around him.

Not anymore. Not when the life was Nesta being absurdly cruel to you, day in and day out. You, who was so sweet and kind. You, who had tried to convince Rhys to let Nesta stay anywhere else. You, who had painstakingly made every one of Nesta’s meals since her arrival.

She didn’t touch a single one of them.

He stalked into the dining room the next morning, allowing his anger to get the best of him. He wanted to rip Nesta’s throat out after flying you home. Your gentle sobs you tried to hide were still ringing in his ears as he cloaked the room in shadow.

Cassian flinches as his brother stalks in, feet pounding, wings splayed. He walks towards Nesta, who doesn’t give him a second glance.

His gaze stays on her, waiting for her to look at him.

“Let me make myself very clear,” he said, the harsh tones of the shadowsinger coming through. “She is my sister, we grew up together. She is the kindest person I’ve ever known, and none of us deserve her. You do not deserve the kindness she has repeatedly shown you, despite your lack of reciprocity.”

Nesta keeps eating, her fork scraping the plate as she grabs another bite of salad, listening as Azriel continues. “I swear to the mother Nesta, I don’t know what you said to her, but if you ever make the mistake of being so callous and cruel to her again, I will not hesitate to insert myself again into this one-sided feud.”

Cassian looks between the two of them, confused. “What happened? What’s going on?”

Azriel keeps his glare on Nesta as he says, “(y/n)’s left. She’s gone back to the townhouse, likely won’t be back for some time.”

He stands up straighter.

“Perhaps Nesta knows why.”

-

The following weeks Nesta continued her new routine - training in the morning, stocking the shelves of the library in the afternoon, dinner with the brothers. She was spending her time with Gwyn and Emyrie, growing closer to the females she considers her friends.

And yet, every night she finds herself searching for you in every room. She looks for you in the halls of the House of Wind, she looks for you in the training ring, off to the side. Some days she swears she can smell you in the shelves of the books, your scent brought to her on a phantom wind.

Nesta knew who she was. She was cruel, callous, and cold. What she said to you was perhaps the worst thing she has ever done.

She couldn’t stop herself. She couldn’t handle speaking with you about why she couldn’t be nice to you. She couldn’t watch your big doe eyes tell her that you had feelings for her.

No matter how much she might return those feelings.

She didn’t deserve your kindness, your gaze, your time. Maybe she deserves more than this loneliness she feels, though. Her nights have grown colder without you in the house, which sounded absolutely absurd.

Perhaps the house was showing Nesta how icy she had been.

It had been three weeks since Azriel took you from the house, Nesta realizes as she stands before the Illyrian, asking him for one last favor.

“No,” he says, about to turn away before Nesta grabs his wrist.

“Please,” she asks, “please just.. tell her to come. Just a place and time. Leave it up to her to decide if she wants to come.”

Azriel looks a bit apprehensive, conflicted between his love for you and his new friendship with Nesta.

“I’ll tell her,” he says, voice stern, “but if she doesn’t come, you won’t bother her about this.”

-

Nesta was a ball of anxiety, impatiently watching the door to see if you would come. She had asked for you to come see her at the House of Wind, and she was unable to focus on anything all day except for the lingering question.

“You came,” Nesta says, as you walk into the room.

“I’m a dog, if I hear a whistle, I can’t help myself.”

Nesta flinches at your words and the harshness of your tone. She deserved it. She deserved your ire. Still, she couldn’t stop looking at your windswept hair, disheveled from the flight with Azriel. She couldn’t stop looking at you, taking in your familiar scent, when it was all but gone everywhere in the house.

Nesta will take it to her grave if anyone asks why her scent lingers in your room.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Nesta says, unable to meet your gaze.

“How to do what?” You ask, sitting down, back stiff.

She takes a shakey breath, “how to be loved, how to - how to accept it. How to let someone be nice to me.”

You look, but she still wants to say more. You keep your gaze on her, watching as her fingers very subtly dance across her thigh, tapping a rhythm to a song you cannot hear.

“I also don’t know how to apologize.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, not expecting that from her. You clear your throat, “well, apologies usually start with uh recognizing what you did as wrong and saying why it was wrong.”

Nesta’s steely gaze meet yours, her grip on her thigh tightening.

“I hurt you, over and over again. I knew I was hurting you, and I kept doing it.”

She pauses, and you let her take the time she needs to get through what she has to say. She closes her eyes, prompting a tear to fall down her cheek.

“I kept hurting you because I didn’t want you to see me. I didn’t-“

She gasps as you reach a hand out, stroking her shoulder. She looks up at the ceiling, trying desperately to get the words out.

“I was scared and angry and I didn’t want to stop feeling those things. I knew if I hurt you enough you’d go away, because I just wanted to let my wounds fester.”

Her voice drops, as if there are other people in the room. As if her words are meant for you and you alone.

“I was scared that if I let you in, let you see me, you’d.. you’d be like them and hate me.”

You let Nesta’s words hang in the air for a moment. It was a little cruel of you, but she was cruel to you. She can wait a moment. You look at her - her usually icy gaze gone warm in your presence.

“I don’t hate you, Nesta,” you say, blowing out a breath, “I actually.. it’s quite the opposite really.”

You take a swig of your drink, “I actually was coming to tell you that I uh-“

You shake your head, feeling so stupid now. Of course Nesta was dealing with her own shit, how could she possibly be in a place to reciprocate your feelings.

“That I couldn’t stop thinking about you or worrying about you. And it’s stupid, and I know my feelings are my own burden to bear but I just-“

Your words are cut off as Nesta grabs your face, leaning in and capturing your lips in a kiss. Your brain stops working momentarily, her lips soft against your own unmoving ones.

When you come back to yourself, you grab the back of her neck, keeping her head in place as you kiss her back with such fervor.

Your head is spinning when her tongue slides into your mouth, and you keep your lips connected as you move your way onto her lap. She groans into your mouth at the new weight atop her, placing her hands on your hips, pulling you down. You lose yourself in kissing her, her citrusy taste making you unable to think, until a thought comes to you and you pull away, causing her to groan.

“Are you going to be nice to me now?” You ask, eyebrows raised.

Nesta rolls her eyes, one of her fingers playing with a strand of your hair, “maybe if you move back in here, I can start making it up to you.”

She moves forward, kissing up your throat, before stopping right in front of your lips.

“I can make us breakfast in the morning.”

[xoxoavenger]

Let It Snow

pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

summary: Y/N and Sam aren't very close, but having to share a cold room could change that.

word count: 3176

warnings: canon typical violence

I'm so sorry this is so late I am trying to get the last 12 days fic out today!!

12 Days of Christmas masterlist main masterlist

Y/N isn't sure how she ended up with the Winchester brothers. She was a good hunter - a great hunter - but they had saved her from a hairy situation with a Rougarou. She felt stupid as soon as it happened, but it did happen and she couldn't go back in time and stop herself from stepping into the trap. Of course, the Winchester brothers had come to save the day.

Dean she didn't mind as much. She wasn't particularly fond of his 'save the damsel in distress' attitude, but once she got closer to them and realized it was clearly his coping mechanism for losing his mother so young, for feeling like he had no control, she could handle him a lot better.

Better than his little brother, Sam, who she wanted to punch at least once a day.

She lived in the bunker with the brothers, since it wasn't like she had a home to go back to and she had been with them when they got the keys. Dean had insisted there was plenty of space, but apparently Sam didn't like this plan. He had rolled his eyes, asked Dean to talk in a different room, but she had still heard the yells from down the hall where she was trying to block it out. She chose that room, the one at the very end of the hall as her own, and Sam had chosen the room Dean vacated after their fight as his. Complete opposite sides of the hallway, Y/N tries her hardest not to run into Sam. He clearly didn't want her here, so she doesn't eat dinner with him, she doesn't watch movies, research in the library, anything. She either takes one of the old cars and spends a couple days God knows where (giving Dean a heart attack every time by the way he blows up her phone) or she spends her time with the mountain of books in her room, taken and returned to the library when Sam's out on hunts.

Which is another problem that makes Dean want to rip out all his hair - the three of them can no longer even go on hunts together. It's always Dean and Sam or Dean and Y/N. And Dean loves to hunt, alright? It's in his blood. But between Sam and Y/N each finding cases, he's exhausted. He can't say he's surprised when he gets sick.

"Dean, I can't just let these people die." Sam says bitchily, and Dean wants to slap his brother. He would, if he wasn't shaking under the mountain of blankets he's piled on his bed.

"I told you to go with Y/N." Dean says. He wants to kill his brother for dragging out his thing with Y/N. She's a sweet girl, and she deserves better than Sam's emotionally inept abuse that he doesn't even realize he's giving.

"She hates me." Sam says with a sad face that rivals a puppy.

"Sam, I'm going to throw up on you right now if you tell another lie." Dean says, and he truly means it.

"Dean!" Sam screeches, moving out of range. "I'm being serious! She avoids me at all costs! She'll have meals with you and watch movies with you, but the second I walk into the room she suddenly has to leave? You tell me what that means."

"I am way too sick for this." Dean groans, because usually he's not the one who has to explain things to his brother like a toddler. "Have you ever thought that maybe she does that because the first day we were here you threw a tantrum about her staying with us?" He asks, head flaring in pain. He closes his eyes and turns, because he doesn't want to ever listen to his brother's voice again.

"But," Sam starts to say, and Dean actually has to tamp down the urge to scream as he pulls the covers his face.

"Sam, leave my room right now and go on this hunt with Y/N. And please, for the love of God, do not text me or come back to this bunker until you have talked through your shit." Dean's voice is deadly, and Sam knows he has to comply. He leaves with an annoyed 'get better soon' and goes to his own room, because he doesn't want to go to Y/N's room.

She's reading in her room, some sort of fiction that she's been waiting for free time to read. Sam knocks on her door, and she figures it's Dean, because Sam has never been in her room.

"Come in!" She calls, putting her book down and watching the tall ass man walk through the door.

"Hey," Sam says, and Y/N chokes down the urge to tell him to fuck off and leave. He looks so out of place, eyes flitting around her room because he can't look at her for some reason.

"What do you need?" She asks flatly, leaning back.

"There's a case in Minnesota." He explains, voice low. He still isn't looking at her.

"Minnesota in January? You've got to be out of your mind. Ask Dean." She goes to grab her book again, and Sam sighs.

"He's sick." Sam finally meets her eyes when she looks up, and they're both silent for a moment. "Please, I can't do this alone." He is practically begging, and he knows how pathetic it sounds.

"Fine." She agrees, taking a deep breath. "When do we leave?"

~

They realized that maybe they should have left this case to more local hunters the second the heating in the old car they had decided to take went out. Sam had gotten out and tried to fix it while Y/N stayed bundled in the car, wondering why she decided this would be a good idea when she doesn't like Sam and he doesn't like her and it's minus degrees and snowing. Even the coats she stole from Dean aren't doing much, so when they get to the hotel after a car ride of silence Y/N is ready for sleep. They had chosen a fancier hotel than they normally stay at, because they needed a room with heat.

"Two rooms, please." Sam says, and Y/N resists the urge to roll her eyes because of course he can't just share the room with her.

"We only have one available." The lady says, and Y/N suddenly thinks that maybe Sam wasn't being too overreactive. Just the thought of sharing a room with him makes her want to drive all the way back to Lebanon.

"What?" Y/N can't resist saying. "How do you only have a single room left?" She asks.

"There's a wedding here tomorrow, and half the town lost power. I'm surprised we have the one room left." She shrugs, and Y/N wants to yell at her. She knows there's no use, however, because this receptionist can't magically make another room available.

"That's fine. We'll take the room, thanks." Sam hands her the fake card Charlie programmed along with the matching fake ID, and then he's given the keys.

"You'll be on the fourth floor, room four twenty-eight." The receptionist tells them, and the two smile at her before walking to the elevator.

When they get to the room, immediately Y/N knows something is wrong. She pauses in the door, and Sam runs into her back and causes her to stumble.

"We need to go back down." She says. "This is wrong."

"Oh," Sam says as he looks over her shoulder. "But there are no more rooms left." He says it so simply, she wants to hit him.

"There's only one bed." She says, as if Sam can't see this himself. He squeezes past where she's still stuck in the doorway, and goes over to the thermostat.

"It's freezing." Sam changes the subject, because there's nothing they can do about their sleeping arrangements. They know it's too cold to go out and find a new hotel room, which may not even have room since the receptionist said that half the town didn't have power.

"Well, turn the heat up." She can't help but be bitchy, because the year she's spent on the other side of the bunker, avoiding him at all costs, has made her unable to even be in the same room as him.

"It's not working." He grunts, fiddling with it even while he understands the truth.

There's no heat in this room.

"We need to find another fucking hotel." Y/N mutters. She goes to grab her stuff, but Sam grabs her arm.

"The snow is coming down too hard. We don't even know where another hotel is, and we're going to freeze in that metal ice cube." He gently lets go over her arm, but she can feel the tingles from where his hand was.

"We're going to freeze here." She says, but she knows that even this cold room is better than the way the car felt.

"The water is probably warm." He tells her. She rolls her eyes.

"Great, so we can get wet and then freeze our asses off as soon as we're not under the water." She says, and he just blinks.

"If we run hot water, we can create steam and hopefully it'll give off some heat." He explains, and now she feels stupid.

"I'm gonna go downstairs to see if there's any extra blankets." She tells him.

And of course, there's only one.

"I'm so sorry." The lady says, like she genuinely cares that Y/N is going to have to share the bed with the man who hates her in a room that feels like it's below zero. "If anyone leaves, or as soon as someone checks out, I will call your room." She promises, but Y/N knows it's a lost cause. No one is leaving, at least not tonight. Y/N and Sam are stuck without power, and only one extra blanket.

When she gets back to the room, the shower is running, steam coming out from the open door. It isn't until she sees Sam's naked back that she realizes that they have to keep the door open to heat up the room.

She turns to the bed, feeling her cheeks heat.

"I'm back!" She calls, putting the extra blanket on the bed. It does feel slightly warmer with the steam, but she can't help but wonder how long it'll last.

"The water is nice and hot!" Sam calls out, and she can hear him getting out of the shower but not turning it off. She is grabbing her own stuff for the shower when Sam walks out, wearing only a towel around his waist. "I figured we should keep it going for a long as possible, since it's the only thing heating the room." He tells her, and she just nods as she looks at his eyes and his eyes only, ignoring everything else (like the tattoo on his toned chest, the water rolling down his abs where a trail of hair leads under the towel).

"Sounds good," She manages, then goes into the bathroom. It's then, as she turns toward the room, that she realizes they need the door open to let the heat out.

Sam is out of the eye line, so she quickly strips and gets in the shower. The glass is now fogged, so she can't see much of the room and he can't see in. Still, she showers quickly and gets out, not getting her hair wet so she doesn't have to deal with being in the cold room with wet hair. She towels off, then changes as quickly as she possibly can so that Sam can't see anything. But his back is turned the whole time, now with pants and a long sleeve on to sleep. She's glad she brought a hoodie (which may have been Dean's at one point) so she won't absolutely freeze.

"How long should we keep it running?" She asks, walking into the room and putting her old clothes back into her bag.

"I guess until it goes cold." Sam shrugs, and then it goes back to silence. She grabs her book, going to read in the bed before sleeping. When Sam, all six feet five fucking inches of burly man, gets in next to her, she wants to start crying. He takes up over half the bed, and she just knows how this is going to end.

It's going to be a long night.

~

"We woke up cuddling!" Y/N whispers into her phone while Sam talks to the victim's family. She had stayed in the car, deciding to research more since they hadn't been able to look at each other all morning, much less talk to each other.

"That doesn't surprise me." Dean tells her honestly, making her groan. "And not just because I already heard about this." Of course Sam told his brother about the cuddling incident.

"How am I supposed to go back tonight!" She cries, knowing she's being dramatic but also knowing there's nothing worse than Sam, who already hates her, not even being able to talk to her.

"I'm sure it was just cold. I mean, you slept fine, right?" Dean asks, and she can tell he's eating and talking with his mouth full.

"I slept like a fucking log, Dean. That's the problem! And your brother hates me, so I don't even know why he would cuddle me in the first place!" She tells Dean as she skims the book in her lap, not finding anything remotely related to their case.

"He doesn't hate you." Dean tells her, and she just shakes her head.

"I'll just have to take your word for it, since he avoids me like the plague." She mutters. She looks over and sees Sam walking out of the house, so she says her goodbyes and gets off the phone.

"I think we're dealing with some sort of spirit, not a demon. It seems to be haunting the barn, drawing people in." Sam informs her. They had known that the abandoned barn had been a part of the case, but they had thought it was a demon due to the nature of the killings.

"Like the spirit of George Hanover, the kid that was killed there during a hazing ritual in the eighties. We can go a library and see if the deaths match with the way he was killed, maybe interview people who knew him." Y/N suggests, and Sam nods.

The ride, of course, is quiet.

~

It's late at night and freezing cold when George finally shows his face in the barn. Y/N and Sam just needed whatever he was tied to, because they didn't want to burn down the entire barn. If it came to that, however, they were prepared.

What they were not prepared for was George to put up such a fight, and Y/N is thrown into a snowdrift headfirst. She doesn't move, but Sam doesn't have time to check on her. He has to dig through the dirt covered things in the corners of the barn while dodging attacks until he finally finds a jacket, which he hopes is George's. Once it's burned and the spirit is taken care of, Sam is instantly on his way to Y/N.

"Y/N!" He yells, digging through the snow that she was buried in. He finally gets her out, unconscious but breathing, face flush from the cold. He touches her face with his bare hand, and he knows she is way too cold.

He picks her up and carries her the short distance to the car, then puts it in gear and drives as fast as he can through the snow to get back to the hotel. He blasts the heat, but Y/N doesn't move the entire ride and her face doesn't return to its natural color.

"Come on," He says to no one, carrying her to the room and putting her on the bed. He takes off her shoes and jacket before putting her under the blankets, then grabbing a small towel and running it under warm water. He puts it on her forehead, then kneels at her side, unsure of what to do.

He waits five minutes, then takes the towel off and throws it to the ground. She still isn't awake, but her face seems less pale and her hand, which is in his, is less cold. He tells himself it's to keep her warm, make sure she's not cooling down, but he knows why he's holding her hand.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, not knowing why he has to confess. He just feels the need, even if it won't help, even if she won't hear it. "I'm sorry I made you think that I hate you. I don't, I could never. In fact, I care about you more than I should. It's why I try not to talk to you, try not to get your attention. I don't want to get attached, in case something happened. I didn't think I could stand it if you didn't feel the same, or if you did feel the same but something happened. But now, something has happened, and I've wasted all this time ignoring you. I've wasted months of our lives because I was scared, and now I'm more terrified than I have ever been and it's all my fault. If we were able to talk to each other, if I had been able to at least be nice, maybe I could have prevented this." He's crying, and he can't believe he just poured his heart out to this unconscious woman. He feels so stupid, but just as he takes his hand away her's squeezes his fingers. His head whips to her face, where her eyes are finally open.

"Nothing could have prevented that." She tells him, and he can't help himself from hugging her tight. She hugs back, and when he leans away he has to ask.

"How much did you hear?" He's not sure what he wants the answer to be, not sure if he's prepared for it.

"All of it." She tells him honestly. "Well, everything after you saying that I hate you, but I think that was all of it. Which is wrong, ya know. I don't hate you." She smiles, scooting over. The room is a little chilly as Sam toes off his shoes and takes off his coat, sliding into bed next to her.

"That's good to know." He says, trying not to freak out. She puts her head on his chest, letting his arms come around her the same way they were when the two of them woke up that morning.

"I care for you a lot too. Even though I thought you hated me." She says, and he squeezes her.

"Yeah, let's not do that." He says, kissing her on the forehead. She nods, feeling warm in his arms even in the cold hotel room. The snow outside has started to turn into a storm, but neither of them could be bothered to care, too wrapped up in each other.

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @theoraekenslover @lyarr24

[hotxcheeto]

whassup love. i’m obsessed with your fics. plz plz PLZZZ could you write a dom!abby x fem reader where they’re just like sweetly hanging out in the library together and reading but abby can’t keep their hands off you 😩 please i need filthy abby smut in my life ily

━ 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, smut, fingering ( r! receiving ), oral sex ( r! receiving ), kissing, use of 'good girl', reading while doing the devils tango(? is that a warning idk but here u go) dom!abby, sub!reader

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!! STARTING OF HORRIBLE WITH THIS MESS. my eyes burn and i've been writing this for 2 months cause i kept wanting to cry in between. life sucks, go do something fun... just dont get arrested plz.

PLEASE REBLOG MY WORK! IT'S VERY APPRECIATED!!

"The castle.. was- was like no other place she'd ever bee- ah!"

You didn't even try to look at her, knowing what sight would behold you and what consequence would follow.

But you could feel her.

Her warm tongue lapping over your clit again and again as she ate you out like she'd been starving. Fingers fucking themselves in and out of your hole, running against your walls and every spot that made you want to scream.

Your body ached with anticipation of the release that wouldn't arrive. Rutting your hips against her face but she counteracted, smacking your ass and gripping the plush of your thighs to keep your lower half down on the cushion.

Every limb and inch of skin that was a part of you glistened from the perspiration of your activities. You were so hot, overwhelmed, but you couldn't get enough.

Despite the risk of being caught in the very public 'library'.

"Keep reading, baby."

Her voice cut through your hazy mind like a sharp knife. You blinked once, then twice, focusing back on the blurry words while trying salivate your dry mouth and sore throat.

She was sweet at first, cuddling with you on the couch you were now spread open on. Kissing and massaging you while you read to her, and you still were reading to her, but this time it was a lot harder.

"No hou-house could ever top- th- the place sh- Abby!" You whined and babbled, squirming and jerking away from her mouth. "-she stood in now."

A few more sentences and the chapter would be over.

"What happened next?" You knew she'd already read this book before, she knew what happened. But you had a prettier voice, especially when you cried.

"There was someone on- on the- the-" You paused, rubbing your eyes, a soft whimper escaping but it instead earned you a light smack your clit, your entire body jolting in surprise.

"Keep going baby.. you can do this." Her voice had a sickeningly sweet comforting tone to it. It was a true promise with a false lure.

"Now." She then added, looking up at your face that was peering just past the side of the book in order to see her. You pouted but nonetheless looked back at the paragraph, her fingers moving in and out at a slower pace now.

"... the throne. It was a woman.." You continued to read to her, Abby's tongue quickly returning to trace figure eights on your little clit again and again.

"She was gorgeous.." Voice quiet as you began, soft and light moans following, "...and had long braids cascading down her shoulders onto her- oh my God Abby!" You accidentally dropped the book, letting it fall onto your bare chest while your hand covered your mouth.

You grabbed at the back of the couch, your other hand grasping at her arm. She'd added another finger, slamming into you at full force before curling her fingers against your special spot.

"Oh yeah?" She asked, tilting her head, pieces of hair that had fallen from her braid framing her face. "How's that baby?" You looked down through your haze of desperation.

"Really good Abby." Her smile curled up at your statement, her head leaning back down towards your cunt. "Pick it back up, you're almost done."

You wanted to cry, eyes unfocused on the words again, sniffling softly as your thighs tried to squeeze around her only for her to push them down once again.

"...onto her shoulders. She had golden armor. Looking at her, it was obvious to-to anyo-one she was the-" The loud muffled squeal you let out was almost as obnoxious as the squelching, sloppy sounds of your girlfriend between your legs.

"What was she, babe?" Abby teased, taking her mouth away for only a second before returning to her earlier motions. "-the- the princess."

You had finished. A cliffhanger you didn't care about and a page you wouldn't and couldn't remember was where the book was left. Abby plucking it from your fingers as soon as the final words were muttered from your lips.

"That's it..." Abby muttered, setting it aside before her bruising touch returned to your sore thighs. "Ready?"

Your high had fallen away for umpteenth time as she paused to admire your face. Your body pained and sweaty whilst she tilted her head innocently.

"Answer me with words, not nods." You took a second to hear her voice before making a noise as you tried to speak. Your hips bucking towards her mouth.

"Mhm. Please."

"Please what?"

Now she was just cruel.

"Abby please make me cum, please.."

"That's my girl.."

But you loved it.

You didn't get a warning but you doubted that you wanted one. A scream erupting from your throat when the tip of her tongue flicked over your clit. Her lips soon wrapping around it while her fingers quickly found themselves a home deep inside your cunt once again.

"Oh- mmph-" Your head hit the cushion of the couch when it flew back, one of your hands falling to her shoulder while the other held her head. "Oh my God!"

Your face was so hot and again your belly coiled up, legs shaking and you began to believe she'd let you go again. But there she stayed, fucking her fingers in and out while toying with your bundle of nerves.

"Abby m'gonna-" She smiled at what you were saying, but didn't even look up. "-please can I?" Ever the good girl you were.

"Go ahead, baby." She muttered against your wetness, continuing to eat you like you were her last meal. And it showed in your shaking calves and thumbing heart, your eyes rolling back until they squeezed themselves shut.

And just like that, you came with a moan, dipping your nails into her skin until crescents formed. The vibration from her groan in reaction against your clit nearly made you scream. Though, your hand fell over your mouth before your vocal chords got the chance to alert everyone in a mile radius.

"You did so good.." She finally spoke up, lifting her head from your middle but still kept her grip. "How about another?"

You practically cried, shaking her head as she played with your hole, moving in and out slowly. Agonizing almost, but you still managed to try and push her away only for her the chuckle.

"I can't Abb... you teased too much.." She scoffed at what you said, raising herself over your body to kiss your lips. Smiling at the sound of your whine when she pulled back. "Since when has that been a problem?"

You hummed dramatically, playing with the end of her messy braid.

"I was trying to read and you took my pants off." She snorted, licking her lips while feeling your body shift against her own. "In my defense you looked really fucking good." "Abby!"

She held onto your knees while she sat up, looking over your shape. Thumbs rubbing circles onto the fat of your thighs.

"Just one more?" You stared as she asked, a cocky grin on her lips. "I dunno…" "Oh c'mon... please? For me?"

Staring into her gaze, you quietly debated in your mind.

"Fine."

"That's my girl."

A/n: my eyes burn

[vulpixisananimal]

[A:3 C61] [TW for: imagery of mutilated, bruised, and bleeding body] (Odile)

(It was sundown on the third day Ramos was out. No change.)

(You were sitting in the living room. Research notes splayed in front of you. You scoured every inch of your writing for anything that could help. Siffrin was asleep on Isabeau on the couch in front of you. Poor Siffrin had been having panics, but had been getting better. Although, it was concerning who it actually was you talked to.)

(Mal, Asterion, and Saffron. Only those three came out.)

(Asterion would stick to himself, talking silently, eating, and keeping in sight of you all. Any time any of you asked about what happened he froze up. It was clear, honestly, that the only reason he didn’t hide in his room was to alleviate all of your worries for him.)

(Mal would disappear for hours a time, only to return and drag Isabeau away. You asked him what that was about, but his lips were, for once, sealed. You had your suspicions, however.)

(But Saffron. . . They were the worst of all of them when it came to communicating. Getting them to admit they're saffron was pulling teeth. Getting him to admit he needs food was agony. And, you could see behind his smile.)

(“Persecutors need love just as much as anyone in order to heal.” That’s what the booklet Vixul gave Siffrin said. You could confirm it was true, but that didn’t make their biting remarks any less hurtful.)

(. . . Tension was high. If you could figure out how to help Ramos out of their catatonic state then. . . You took your glasses off and rubbed your eyes.)

(The issue is simple: Ramos’ catatonia was caused, indirectly, by mind craft. And the only one who knew mind craft was Ramos themself. So, what do you do?)

(You could continue to hope and pray for conventional remedies to work. You could look for an expert in psychology, or maybe even acupuncture. But you might as well wish to win a coin flip at that point! Ha, ha. . .)

(. . . Even with a grand library in your mind you couldn't think of anything.)

(Except. . . One thing.)

(. . . . . You didn't want to consider it.)

(You were considering it.)

(. . . . You finish considering it, and stand.) “I need a break.”

(The half asleep Isabeau opened an eye.) “Hmm?”

“I'm going to the library.” 

“M’kaaay. . .”

(You've got your notes, coat, everything you need. You waste no time and leave the house, headed directly to the library.)

(You go over the plan in your head. Merlon is back, so there is no truce. Attempt to talk to him. Keep your distance. Look out for any surprises from Merlon, talk politely. Appeal to his soft side, and look for a way to keep him distracted so he can't read your thoughts. He's fast, and your craft type is at a disadvantage, so direct combat is a bad idea. What about a trade? Information for assistance?)

(You couldn't trade any old thing you knew, he's a historian. Perci would know about the Expression of Search’s Elaborate Dance of the Guide. No, it would need to be something more. . . Exciting.)

(You continued to walk. What about What Loop looked like? Call craft? The fact that your party has met gods multiple times now? The fight with the king?)

(. . . Siffrin’s cosmic temper tantrum would be best kept quiet.)

(You made it to the library, you'll check here first. You walk up the steps and into the lobby. The librarian from a few days ago was here, sleepily sipping a cup of tea. They waved.) “Madame Odile, good to see you again.”

“Hello, same to you.” (You walk up to the counter.)

“. . . Tea?” 

(You paused, then smiled.) “. . Please.”

“Camomile or ginger.” (They ask, getting up.)

“Ginger, please. No milk, no sugar.” 

“Perfect, I just boiled the pot.”

(You watch them go. A cup of tea would be perfect. Something to calm your nerves before, whatever happens happens. A moment later they were back, and handed you a cup. You thank them, then move into the library proper.)

(It didn’t take long. Perci was sitting at the center of the library, at a grand table. Books to either side of him. A chessboard to the left. You could hear the familiar scribbling of a pen. Your steps echoed through the silent building as you approached.)

(You stopped a few feet back from him, and waited.)

(There were a few moments where the only sound was that pen, before he finally stopped. He looked up, then back down again.) “. . . Madame.”

“Percival.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“. . .” (You walk around the table, place down your tea, and take a seat.)  “I have come to strike a deal.”

“Have you now.” (He’s smiling, the face of a man truly absorbed in his work.) “I thought we weren’t all buddy buddy now.”

“You know why, Percival.” (You glare at him.)

“Haa. . . That, I do.” (He clicks his pen and puts it to the side.) “Three days already? That is worrying, but what do you want me to do about it?”

(You sip your tea, and stare directly at him.)

“. . . You’re very good at hiding your thoughts, Madame. And I must say, after the inn, I would sooner ride a bull off a cliff than try and tame your mind.”

(You keep your face neutral.)

“. . . . . That is to say, I should be giving you some more respect.” (Perci looks at you, then turns and grabs the chessboard, and starts setting it up.) “Chess? It’ll keep my mind wandering to yours.”

“Thank you.” (You huff.) “I’m no idiot, and while I can respect your mind games, I, for one, like cutting straight to the point.”

“Very respectable.” (He finishes placing the last pieces. Darkless on your side, Lightless on his.) “So, after you, madame. Light before shadow, after all.”

“Of course.” (You pick up a pawn, forward two.) 

“So.” (He moves a pawn to match.) “You would like help with Ramos.”

“Yes.” (Pawn to cover.) “Either you help them recover, or teach me some form of mind craft to do it myself.”

“Ah, well that’s an issue, isn’t it?” (Knight forward.) “I will not teach you mind craft, and I doubt your companions will let me into Ramos’ mind.”

“That is an issue.” (Pawn forward.) “Why can’t you teach me?”

“And give you a dagger to stab me with?” (Knight takes a pawn.) “You would have to give me something good in return.”

“I see.” (Pawn takes the knight.) “Then how about what I found on our travels?”

“Hmm, tempting.” (Bishop forward.) “Very tempting, madame.”

“The ascent through the Dormont House of Change?” (Pawn forward.) 

“Getting there.” (Pawn forward.) “Dormont is a nice little town, isn’t it?”

“Hmm? Have you been?” (Pawn takes a pawn.) 

“Oh no no.” (Bishop takes a pawn.) “I’ve just heard so much about it when researching you all.”

“Really now?” (Knight takes a bishop.) “But of course, rumor can only tell you so much!”

“Ah of course, of course.” (He thinks, then moves a pawn up.) “After all, you tend to hear the strangest of rumors.”

“. . . Like?” (Knight takes a pawn.) 

“Oh nothing too strange, just. . .” (Queen takes a knight; advantage to Perci.) “Giant cracks in the sky of an unknown shade, a cloaked figure dozens of stories tall, small things like that.”

“. . .” (You move a rook.) “Just silly rumors.”

“Oh? Is that the same with the rumors of the king?” (Queen takes a pawn.) “That he was an islander too?”

“. . .” (Move the king.)

“An islander just like my bonded, just like your traveler.” (Queen takes a rook.) “I wonder, do they share some other connection? Perhaps even a family member?”

“. . . Whoever Siffrins family was, they weren’t like the King.” (Knight takes the queen.) “If anything, the King's family would have been like your own.”

(Perci is stunned, looking at the board. He glances up, then back. He castles his king.) “And what would you know about that?”

“Quite a lot.” (Bishop takes a pawn; advantage to you) “Percival Monet, the youngest of the Monets, who destroyed his own family.”

“. . . That’s nothing-” (Knight forward.)

“Oh it’s everything.” (Bishop takes the knight.) “I did not recognize that swear you use, Perci. So, I got curious.”

“And what does that have to do with anything?” (Pawn forward.)

“I looked it up in a teenager's book about swears.” (You chuckle, pawn moved up.) “It’s Poterian.”

“. . .” (Pawn up.)

“A Poterian swear that’s only really used in very old, rich families.” (Knight takes a pawn.) “And from there, there’s only so many families to check.”

“But there isn’t a book in the library about the Monets.” (Pawn takes pawn.) 

“And the House of Change library?” (Bishop takes a knight.) “The secret library? Each house has one, after all.”

“I. . .” (He pauses, looking over the board, eyes wide. Rook forward.) “. . . What do you know?”

“The Monet family. One of the oldest and well known in devoted Soleanist society. Old money. And old corruption.” (Bishop takes a pawn; Perci is in check.) “The last Monet’s were disgraced, the two house leaders at the time.”

“. . .” (Move rook.) “What else?”

“Just that the only Monet with any reputation left, is a historian.” (Bishop forward; Perci is in check.) “And that historian, is you.”

“. . . . . . Hah. . .” (Perci lowers his head.) “Ha, HA! HAHA!! Oh yes! Madame, I knew you were brilliant. From the moment I touched your mind, I knew, I just knew, you were something else.”

(His rook takes your bishop.)

(You lean forward. Something was wrong about this board. You had been counting moves ahead, but there were errors. You didn’t take into account some pieces, pieces that were there but you just, didn’t focus on them. They were out of the way, not a problem. He took your bishop, and you could see the next moves clearly. Next, your knight, then rook, then queen, and then. . .)

(Checkmate.)

“. . . . ha. . . Haha!!” (You sit back with a sigh.) “. . . How.”

“Ah, took you long enough.” (Perci looked at you with a smug smile.) “It was the tea.”

(You look at the cup of tea, then shake your head.) “You took control of the librarian, and spiked the tea with some sleep or relaxation agent. Not enough to be noticeable, but enough to graze my hand without me noticing.”

(Exactly.)

(In a motion, the tables and chairs melted into the floor. The bookshelves expanded, the ceiling disappeared into a thick fog miles in the air. Lanterns lit the endless halls. Perci seemingly disappeared. You stood in your headspace.)

(I don’t think vast is an accurate enough word to describe your mind, Odile. Your voice echoes through the library.)

(A better word for it would be private! You turn, where are you?)

(You pull a book off a shelf. Why, I’m just over here!)

(The hallways shift once again as you glide towards his voice. You can see him! Get, OUT-)

(Your breath catches.)

(You can only begin to imagine what form of hell Perci must have gone through to end up looking like a walking corpse. No, not a corpse. A corpse could at least rot.)

(He had scars, bruises, pinpricks, lines that look as if someone was sewing something into his skin. He had rashes from shackles, his nose was broken, one eye droopy. His clothes were torn and now looked more like a university uniform with the crest torn out.)

(He looks at you, the look he had, it was. . .)

(Hello, Madame. She looks so similar to how she does in reality, except for the fact she floats ever so slightly off the ground. Are you so tied to your own self image to not experiment a little, Madame?) 

(Gems alive. Something hits you in your soul, some emotion, some fear. You take a step back. Why do you-)

(Look like this? Oh, Madame~ You close the book, drop it, and turn to her. Please, allow me to show you!)