#pls ignore the height differences

[zappedbyzabka]

[poisonarrow98]

mwah have another soviper ship meme <3

[itspileofgoodthings]

also kind of didn’t like Attolia either. 

[ynbabe]

Do you think you could write a smau with Yuki or Daniel with a male reader who is like 6'-6'4 and they kinda have a gay panic moment and reader is just subtly flirting with them through captions and comments...

If not than that's ok, have a great day/night

ahhhhh this is such a cute idea, I went with Danny ric for this one cause the yuki to 6'4 reader height difference would be too mean 😭

y/nfsnweek

y/nfsnweek new shoot coming out @/alphatauri

y/nfsnweek excited to meet all the cool guys at @/vcarbf1team

vcarbf1team we're excited to meet you!! username YOU'RE MEETING DANIEL AND YUKI?? y/nfsnweek perks of the job 🤷‍♂️

username HELLO??? father what do you mean you're modelling for an f1 team??

username girl they were a fashion brand first 😭

username omg does this mean Y/n's going to a race? He has to right?

username every time I find out abt this man's height I need to log off cause WHAT DO YOU MEAN THIS CUTIE IS FUCKING 6'4???

username tall king

username imagine him next to Yuki 😂

username they wouldn't even fit in the camera screen together 💀

vcarbf1team

vcarbf1team our drivers through the eyes of @/y/nfsnweek

y/nfsnweek need a pass for every race pls

vcarbf1team we got you king 💪

yukitsunoda no comments, no one talk to me, deleting all social media

username omg yuki 😭 bbg it's not your fault y/n is just freakishly tall

danielricciardo finally someone I had to look up to talk to 😂

yukitsunoda Daniel you're blocked first

username daniel looks at y/n like he wants to eat him, Yuki looks at y/n like he's planning to steal his height

username Danny something you'd like to share with the class???k

Daniel was trying to be normal but there were only very few people he had to look up to talk too and even fewer people who looked like that.

He had accepted he was gay a long time ago but refused to be in a relationship due to the media and his job but there was no way he could ignore the way his heart began racing when he looked into your eyes. The worst part of it was he didn’t even know if you were interested in him, or guys.

One wrong move and his career would be down the drain… again and he couldn’t risk that but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about you either. This was driving him insane. You were driving him insane and you hadn’t even spoken to him over 10 minutes.

He could always count on Max right? He had never told anyone about Daniel’s secret even when they had been fighting and he was his best friend obviously he was going to cry about this to him.

Why had Max sent him one of Y/n’s Instagram posts? Daniel was not in the mood to stalk his crush only to see him with women all over him.

y/nfsnweek

y/nfsnweek If you know what I did last summer pls let me know

Oh, okay, he liked guys, but did he want Daniel? Y/n was a model, he worked around gorgeous men 24/7 why would he want to be with Daniel?

Daniel couldn't do much more, he could pine and yearn like he had for years before or he could get on with his job and move on like he is used to.

danielricciardo

danielricciardo Enchanté orange edition 🍊

landonorris Papaya edition?

danielricciardo no comments

y/nfsnweek my favourite fruit 🤭

username bro??? username your favourite what 🤨 username oh?

maxverstappen doubles as MV1 merch

danielricciardo @/Landonorris defend your colour

danielricciardo

danielricciardo austingp my home away from home

ynfsnweek suddenly I'm very interested in America

maxverstappen 🤨🤨 ynfsnweek yee haw 😫

username that hat 😮‍💨

username max?? y/n??

username y/n being the first comment on this post is giving

username giving broke back mo-

daniel.jpg

daniel.jpg photo creds to @/lando.jpg

y/nfsnweek Lando needs a raise

lando.jpg it's all him y/nfsnweek fr mans fine asf

username Y/N????

username HELLO???

username if Daniel doesn't respond to y/n rn its going to get real embarrassing real quick

Daniels's head was reeling, what did Lando mean you were flirting with him under his posts? Weren't all those comments PR? Should he text you? but what if you didn't like him? But what if you did? Fuck.

Daniel texted you, why had he texted you? Did he not like you? Did your comments make him uncomfortable? You were not above crying till the sun rose and the tears were already ready.

But first you had to yell at the little gremlin that probably caused this, cause you may die of a broken heart and embarrassment but you weren't going alone.

Now back to Daniel, who was probably going to block and you were going to get your contract cut and-

Oh? oh? And where had that sudden burst of confidence come from?

On the other end, Daniel was losing his mind.

Oh

Oh...

HE LIKES ME?? HE LIKES ME!! He couldn't believe he was acting like a teenager right now but he was kicking his feet and giggling. You were the literal man of his dreams and you liked him back!

Daniel was going to die but at least it'd be from happiness this time and you? You were screaming into your pillow, stalking the man's Instagram, blushing thinking about the date.

[trulyhblue]

STARGIRL

Georgia Stanway x Reader

Warnings — smut 18+, buildup, mean! Boyfriend! Kind of toxic! Georgia, dom/sub dynamics, drinking, partying, jealousy, strap, millie bright hate but not hate but pls I love you millie bright so flirt with me x, kind of dumb reader but like she actually doesn't know, praise kink, degradation kink, breeding kink.

_______________________

Your dress had hitched to an unethical height, but the state of your tipsiness provoked a desolated ignorance accompanied by the thunderous beat of the club. Grace was behind you, swaying her hips with yours, the two of you celebrating your most recent win with the Lionesses.

The room was crowded with dancing bodies, mashed together with the concoction of sweat, alcohol, and oblivion. You had seen Less, Ella and Niamh nearby only a while ago, and an ample group of your teammates were sitting in the back corner surrounded by a booth, projecting their triumph in the form of the burn down their throats, the drinks they nursed holding to a product of victory.

“Ugh, I'm so sweaty,” Grace whined, loud enough in order to be heard over the booming rave. “I need a drink.”

“Same, let's go.” You nodded, feeling the girl’s hands snake around your waist, pulling you closer to her figure as the crowd collapsed further into your figure.

The two of you sauntered through the crowd, giggling at the mob of people struggling to find enough space to properly function. Your cheeks were stained a vibrant pink from the flush of adrenaline. Grace was humming along to the tune in your ear, her arms still holding onto you tightly so that you wouldn't lose each other.

It wasn't often that the team went out for drinks, especially not the likes of such a mix of the different friend groups. Lucy and Keira weren't set to go back to Spain for another three days, and most of the girls would seek refuge in the comfort of their own beds tonight, as the match held in Wembley sought itself in the midst of the WSL.

Georgia and you were set to leave for Munich two days from now after spending the last two weeks preparing and playing for your national team here in England. While Gee had transferred from City a while ago, you had only just moved to Bayern from Chelsea, where someone like Grace had become your closest friend in the WSL. As one of the younger players on the team, you wanted to make sure the debutant felt welcome and comfortable in the senior squad, despite her training with the team long before her match debut.

Over the last couple of months, you had been working really hard in order to aid your club to victory, but after the nasty blow in the Champions League, and some defeats sprinkled here and there throughout the season, this night was long awaited.

Once Grace and you had finally woven your way through, you were quick to find refuge on Georgia’s lap, leaving Grace to sit on the opposite side of the booth next to Mary. Gee found her hands secured on your waist, ignoring the way your hips wiggled in her lap.

“Having fun, are we?” She asked, watching as you hummed in reply, taking it upon yourself to take a sip of her drink. You failed to notice your girlfriend's fimble hands tugging down the fabric of your skirt, hiding the notion by massaging your thighs and kissing your exposed shoulder.

The enriching taste of lemonade made you turn to straddle her, holding the drink up to her lips while the straw was still lingering close to yours.

“You’re not drinking?”

“I’m driving us back, baby.” Gee shook her head. “Do you want me to get you another drink?”

You thought to yourself before slowly reaching down to where your girlfriend’s collar met her throat, toying with the cloth in your hands before pressing your lips to her pulse point, letting her take the drink, placing it back on the table as you ran your tongue along the column of her throat.

“Y/N, baby.” You heard Gee mutter. You lifted your hips off her lap, combing your hair out of your face as you counted to speckled freckles on Georgia’s cheeks. She took out her wallet, handing you her card. “Do you ‘wanna go buy yourself something? The girls and I were ‘gonna go play pool over there if you want to meet us there.”

“Do you want anything?” Shaking her head in reply, keeping a prolonged stare down the trajectory of your low-cut top. You tugged at the bottom of her shirt, letting your hands roam freely across the waistband of her trousers. Rocking your hips, you found Grace already standing behind you, grabbing your hands and leading you over to the bar.

It wasn't unusual for Georgia to brush off your public affection like that, especially when you were obviously tipsy, and the lingering eyes of your friends were all at your disposal. If you had kissed her in a secluded corner of this club, she would've taken you up against the nearest wall as fast as she could. She had been eyeing that dress — or moreso the skin it was hardly concealing — and wanting so desperately to take you home and show you how much she loved you.

The games against Sweden and Italy were both masterclasses on your behalf, and Georgia was merely waiting for the right time to reward you for scoring in both of them.

“You need to get a room.” Grace teased, her eyes peering back to where Georgia shamelessly looked at your arse. “No wonder the fans found out so quickly.”

You turned to face the younger girl, a smirk adorned on your face. “Two months was a struggle in itself.”

Gee and you had tried to keep your relationship well out of the media. But after your move to Munich, and a few too many proper English celebrations, the media had caught on to your affection and adoration for each other far too quickly than what you had hoped. Nevertheless, both of you sprinkled your private lives into your Instagram every once and a while. Save some photos of you that Georgia was not willing to share with the world.

“No, I know.” She replied, pivoting through the crowd. “But it's cute. Traumatic for me… But cute.”

You used Georgia’s card to buy yourself and her two lemonades and Grace a drink of her own. Grace’s regard for your relationship was an unusual sentiment because while you strived to hold your private life out of the fame and publicity of football, there was an inevitable spark between the two of you that fans caught onto long before you ever thought of Georgia in the way you do now.

Despite what is displayed, you were two very reserved people, with Georgia being the more talkative of the two of you when it came to interviews. You loved your social life — your friends both at home and away. However, there were many differences that distinguished a shift in personas.

You liked to push the boundaries. If you could test your luck, it was impossible to tempt you otherwise. Georgia liked routine. You didn't mind testing the waters and going with the flow. Life was more enjoyable that way.

At least for you.

Georgia had watched you make your way to the bar, hoping you’d return with something a lot less strong than what you had been downing previously. Grace was hung by your side, the younger woman holding onto your arm with giggles leaving her lips. Gee waited for you to inch down your skirt before following Mary and the others over to where Leah was lining up for a game of pool.

“Any reason you're easing off the drinks tonight, Stanway?”

Millie was lingering by the group, nursing her own drink while Rach and Lucy talked beside her. Georgia shrugged, moving her hands to her pockets as she watched Leah take the first shot against Keira.

“I'm driving home.”

Millie snorted. “Will you make it home?”

If Gee was drinking, she would've choked. “What?”

“Well, you were pretty much eating each other’s faces off just before. Figured you couldn't wait.”

Georgia shrugged again. She wasn't too keen on the conversation, especially when the topic didn't deem either you or her in the highest regard. Everyone knew that Georgia wasn't into that type of PDA, but it was also noted that given the right reasons, she’d be worse than you.

“You’re a lucky one, Gee.” The Chelsea Defender clapped the Midfielder on the back, downing the rest of her drink. “Enjoy your night.”

Millie left Georgia to stand a few feet away from the rest of the group — leaving her to mull over her teammate’s words. For some reason, she couldn't shake Millie’s comments off. What did she mean — enjoy your night? What was she implying? Of course, she was going to enjoy her night with her girlfriend. Of course Gee was lucky, but why was Millie saying that? Normally, these comments were used as a compliment, and with Millie’s best intentions, everyone knew she was only pure. But when Georgia saw the way the Chelsea player flung her arm over your shoulder upon your return, talking down at you amid the booming music, something in Georgia flicked.

Everyone had gotten progressively more drunk as the night went on, but you were fully immersed in the way everyone was interacting, holding your own conversation with Millie, who was going on about some football thing happening at Chelsea.

Leah was swearing at Keira, who was cheekily laughing away at the ratio of her balls to Leah’s left in the game. You had left Georgia’s drink in front of you, and you continued to keep it by your side as you watched the bickering between Lee and Keira transpire.

“You're a right cheat, Walsh, go home.” Williamson quipped, shoving Keira playfully by the shoulder. The Barcelona player poked out her tongue, jabbing the Arsenal protege's side. “Oh, cry me a river, Leah. You're just a sore losers who’s downright shit.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Oh, piss off.”

“You first.”

“Right give someone else a go!” Lucy called, her accent slightly rasped and slurred. She scanned the room, looking straight across to where you and Millie stood. “Go on, you two. Show ‘em how to play normally.”

You felt yourself sober up a little from the attention of everyone’s stares. You felt your ears go a bit red, shaking your head by the time Millie had already picked up her cue.

“I'm no good at it.” You spoke.

Georgia watched you saunter over to the side of the table, using your arms to lean, stabilising your ditzy figure. She could tell by the blush across your face that you had sobered up significantly, but she knew that the alcohol still held a prominent hold over you.

“It’ll be an easy win for me then, gorgeous.” Millie taunted, readying herself for the first shot. You shook your head, caving by grabbing the spare cue Keira was holding, all while Georgia looked on with her hands fisted in her pockets.

She wasn't usually the type to get like this. Georgia and you held great independence in your respective lives. Both of you enjoyed letting the other do stuff without the prodding of the other. You trusted each other too much to breach any boundaries, but if there was one thing Georgia had trouble keeping to herself, it was her jealousy.

Millie took the first hit, causing the object balls to cascade across the green fabric. Leah was standing behind you, muttering something into your ear. You stood there with your figure half leaning against her, the other half fidgeting with the cue.

“Wait, so, I don't remember-”

“Well, don't be asking Leah for advice,” Keira’s teasing voice came from nearby. “She’ll just tell you how to lose.”

Leah looked utterly exasperated, glaring at her best friend with annoyance plastered across her face. “Oh, give it up, Walsh, will you?”

“Alright, Milton Keynes, it's okay to admit defeat, y’know.”

The England Captain marched over to a laughing Keira, punching the girl’s shoulder. Everyone watched in amusement when Keira retaliated, using her arms to poke Leah in the ribs.

You were left fiddling with the stick, laughing along at the sight in front of you while internally pondering. You had never properly played pool before — obviously with friends, of course, but never taking it as far as playing by the rules. You had no idea what strategy to use, or what ball you were meant to hit. It wasn't like anyone cared, but the perfectionist in you just couldn't wrap your head around it.

“Give it here.”

It wasn't until you felt familiar arms wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you instantly closer to her hips. You let yourself fall limp against her, chewing on your bottom lip as you stared at the game you were clueless at.

“I don't know how to play.” You spoke, handing the cue to your girlfriend, who took the stick from you, moving her head down to your shoulder, letting her breath fan over your neck as she spoke.

“How ‘bout I show you then, hm? I’ll teach you.”

You sighed at the goosebumps running down your neck, nodding as Gee kept you in front of her, maneuvering the two of you in a way that made it possible for her to play while keeping your arse against her hips. You watched as Millie made the next move. Georgia waited for a moment, letting everything station before proceeding. With one arm circled around your waist, she bent over to make the next move. You felt her body press into yours, stuck between the table and her.

After her shot, she slotted back upright. She leant down once more, combing back the loose hairs that framed your face.

“How are you feeling, Baby?”

Her voice was deeper, more grounded by the time of night.

You couldn't help but look up at her, licking your lips as you nodded. “Good, why?”

Georgia held your hips, moving them so that they were glued to the table. “Just wondering, pretty girl.”

Her body loomed over yours, her arms sanctioned on either side of you as Millie thought through her next move. You tried to conceal your neediness, the feeling of Georgia’s body pressed against yours sending heat down your spine. “Gee.”

“What is it, baby?”

You struggled to focus, hoping Millie would hurry up so that Georgia would move away from her unrelenting pressure.

You managed to swallow your whine as her hand moved to fondle your thigh. “Nothing.”

It was soon Georgia’s turn, the game becoming more fluent as both sides successfully slotted in balls left and right. Though, as the game went on, you could feel your girlfriend grow more and more handsy. After every shot, she’d kiss the alcove of your neck, whispering a sweet nothing about how you looked, or the way you felt against her, that was borderline testing the innocence she often preserved out in public.

“Looking so good tonight, darling…”

“Can't believe you're all mine, babygirl…”

“So perfect for me, all to myself…”

In between turns, Georgia let you lean on her, loving the way you sighed at every ounce of affection she would give you, making sure it was obvious enough for Millie to catch on, while discrete enough for you to not feel like it was truly public for anyone to actually notice.

You nearly lost it when she slotted her hand in between your thighs and squeezed them while you kept a watchful eye on the game in front of you. Her body covered your back, hiding her obvious display of desire by letting you push your arse against her front.

“Feel so good, don't you?”

“Georgia, please.”

“You're doing so well, baby. Might have to reward you for being so good.”

You should've known that she would keep a straight face the whole time, refusing to give you the reaction you so desperately hungered for by the ache between your legs. You had tried everything as she massaged your shoulders, and whispered passive teasing that sent shivers down your neck. Despite your honest belief that Georgia was unfazed by your antics, she made it clear that your actions were heard when she dug her hands into your hips.

She had beaten Millie by an easy mile, though she did not bother to make any celebration, instead looking down at you, grabbing the back of your neck and kissing you softly.

“Can we go, Gee?”

“Why, baby?” She asked, a knowing smirk plastered across her lips.

You whined for the first time that night, making sure Georgia heard it by lifting yourself up to her height. “Just want you right now.”

“Want me? But I'm right here.”

“Georgia, please. I need your help.”

That was enough for Georgia to bid everyone good night, sending farewells as quickly as she could while you tried to forget about the growing arousal in your core. By the time you had both gotten into the empty car park, your lips had started to attack hers. Georgia pretty much coerced you into the car, moving the driver's seat all the way back so that you could sit comfortably on her lap.

She shut the door promptly, knowing that her tinted windows were enough to hide the way her hands played with your arse, your clit immediately rubbing against her hips.

You started tugging off your shirt, leaving your breasts on full display. Georgia couldn't even register the sight before you grabbed one of her hands, pulling it towards your nipple, groaning at the way she pinched it.

“Where is your phone?” You uttered, moving your chest closer to Georgia so that your tits were pretty much in her face. She took one of your nipples in her mouth, moaning when you moved your breasts around her face, making them bounce erratically with the lack of bra you had worn. She grabbed her phone from her back pocket, handing it to you without a second thought. You didn't waste any time in pushing back, opening the device before swiping to the camera, hastily pressing play on the video, and moving the phone so that it showed your tits in Georgia’s mouth on full display.

“You’re such a good girl for me.” She groaned. “So thoughtful, aren't you? Gonna watch this when you're not with me. Need to see these tits every day, don't I? Gonna watch you every day.”

“Need you to fuck me, baby. Need your cum in me so bad.”

You grabbed the top button on her shirt, moaning out when Georgia grabbed both of your tits, sitting upright and playing with both of them with her mouth and hands. Her cold rings pressed into the delicate skin of you nipples, the distant pain of her pinches making you squirm irresistibly in her lap. Your skirt had ridden up to your hips, where your g-string went exposed to the camera’s lense.

You moved across to the console, using your spare hand that wasn't tugging Georgia’s hair to find a hair elastic, though you graw impatient when Gee stopped kissing your breasts for you neck. Instead, she found the all-too-familiar toy hidden neatly underneath the lube you definitely wouldn't need, and you moaned as your hand squeezed around the strap that you pulled out once Georgia pinched your nipple once more.

“Haven't used this one before.” Your girlfriend whispered, nibbling dark, callous marks across your neck. “Bit too big for your small little hole, darling. It can't fit, can't it?”

“Try it, please.” You muttered, unbuttoning the woman’s pants and letting them fall to the floor. You buckled the harness around her waist to the best of your ability, giving up when Georgia took over, letting you discard the short, flimsy fabric of your skirt. “Make it fit.”

“You're so desperate for my cum, aren't you darling?” She rutted, fastening the harness so the strap only just missed your folds. “Want me to fill you up with kids so bad, don't you? Want me to make you full and pregnant, yeah?”

You moaned. “Want to have your babies inside of me. Fill me up, please. So bad, baby. Need your help cause it aches.”

Georgia bunched your hair up into a makeshift pony, pushing you down so that your mouth hovered over the strap. Your arse in the air, your tits kneaded by your own hands. Georgia moaned at the sight of you so desperate, the notion of the camera recording making it all the more sporadic.

You wasted no time licking the dick, holding the base of the silicone toy with one hand, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked the tip and first quarter of the strap in your mouth. Gee pulled your hair, letting you move up and down on her dick. The vibrations of your gagging mixed with moans made her sigh at her newfound, growing release.

“Fuck, keep going, Y/N.” She groaned. “Just like that.”

You continued until tears pricked your eyes. You could tell by the way Georgia’s grip on your scalp tightened and your tongue flicked along the tip, your cheeks hollowing and allowing more of the strap to fill your throat. It didn't take long until Georgia’s breathing had staggered. Short, uneven breaths mixed with erratic sweet nothings. You pushed yourself down her dick one last time, feeling Gee’s body collapse from all tension as her orgasm washed over her. You pulled yourself up, wiping the spit and cum off your face with your fingers, prodding them towards your mouth. Georgia watched you lick them clean, rolling your head back at the taste alongside the subtle pang of your throat.

The car windows were not only tinted but misted due to the humidity inside the vehicle. Your hips shadowed the strap, Georgia falling back into the rhythm of toying with your hips, kneading them as she kissed your neck.

You could feel the ache between your legs grow at the sight of your girlfriend beneath you, maneuvering you to where she wanted you most, giving you incredible amounts of pleasure at your disposal. You were starting to moan at the simplest of movements like the way she gripped your hips, or the way she licked over the bruises down your neck and chest. The last piece of clothing you had on was your underwear, Georgia now discarding her shirt so that you were both in states of nudity. Sweat beaded from your forehead.

Your legs started shaking from the mere want for the woman below you. It didn't take you long for your desire to take over as you grabbed one of Gee’s hands, slipping it down your stomach and along the fabric of your underwear. You painstakingly pushed her hand underneath, letting her move her fingers up and down your folds. The slick covered them instantly, and she rolled her head back when you began to rock on her hand.

“Do you feel how wet I am, baby?” You asked, Georgia nodded. She watched you bounce up and down, grateful at the way Gee pushed one of her fingers into you, letting you ride it in short pulsates. You whimpered when she entered her second finger, crying out when she entered her third. Georgia took one of your breasts in her mouth, groaning as you bobbed up and down. You felt your pussy clench around her, your arousal coating her fingers each time you pushed deeper into your strategic strokes. Georgia continued to hold one of your hips, helping your shaking legs hold yourself up as you neared your climax.

“Fuck, you're such a slut, aren't you?” Georgia uttered, her fourth finger nudging your clit as you sunk in once more. You rocked yourself back and forth now, relishing the way your nub ran itself over her hand, the coil in your core tightening as your climax neared.

“Grinding on me at the pool table cause you're so needy for me… everyone could tell that you just wanted me inside you. You made sure to show everyone who you belonged to.”

You were a blabbering mess. Your stokes became sloppy, your legs non-stop shaking as your body tensed at the pleasure running through you. Georgia curled her fingers inside of you, assaulting your clit as you struggled to keep your pace. There was no way you could reply as all your thoughts were focused on the sounds of your juices being leaked out from your hole, Georgia’s fingers forcing them in and out as she spoke to you in rasps. Your noises became pornographic, and you no longer cared about the thought of someone hearing you.

“Need me to do everything for you. I didn't even need to fuck you dumb. All I need to do is bend you over.”

You could finally feel your orgasm washing over you when Georgia pulled her fingers out, laughing at your instant cry out.

“Aw, baby.” She muttered, wiping your sweaty flyaways out of your face, tears fell from your eyes, your cheeks reddening as you fell onto her lap, your legs no longer able to hold you up. You looked down at your girlfriend, finding no remorse on her smug face.

“Why didn't you cum, pretty girl?” She tutted, pulling your body up from her chest so it was exposed to her view. You shook your head, fully dumbfounded at her actions. It wasn't like you had done anything wrong.

“I— Gee— I’ve been good.”

You sounded pathetic. Normally, if you had been a brat, you’d have said that as a joke to put on an innocent facade and get the sex you had desperately craved. You would pretend to be nice and suck her dick or eat her out just because you had done something to provoke it. There were countless times when Gee had edged you for doing something provocative, but tonight you had no idea why she had done it.

“Really, baby? You think so?” You looked at her with the saddest eyes you could muster. “You sure you've been good all night?”

In terms of your sex life, you had your fair share of dominant and submissive moments, but with Georgia, you found yourself subbing out to new extremes. Your girlfriend would do anything for you, on and off the pitch. You could act dumb and she’d fuck it out of you. You would fall over on the pitch, cry out even if it was a fair play, and Georgia would be the one receiving the yellow for defending you. When you were at a bar, or anywhere for the matter, and felt someone look at you in even the slightest wrong way, Gee would hold you in front of her and make sure you were always safe in her arms.

But Georgia could be mean, even if you hadn't necessarily done anything to make her mean. She usually got like this when you had hugged someone for too long, or made a joke about yourself that she thought was too far.

That made it all click.

“Are you jealous?”

Georgia scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You can't flirt with Bright then bend over for me two minutes later.”

She grabbed your waist and lifted you, switching positions so that you were lying in the driver’s seat and she was hovering above you.

“I wasn't flirting. I was talking.” You moaned at the contact of the strap’s tip brushing against your folds, moving up and down as Georgia’s hands massaged your arse.

“She called you gorgeous, you know.” You felt her breath fan over your face, her lips ghosting down your neck. “Said I should enjoy my night with you.”

“She did?” It was probably not the right way to phrase that response, but it didn't seem to phase Georgia anyway. “We were just talking, Geor-”

“I bet she wouldn't fuck you as good.” Georgia spat, using one hand to circle your clit. You threw your head back, moaning at the small discomfort from your prior denied orgasm, writhing at the sudden pressure on your sensitive nub. “If I showed her all the videos of you screaming my name I doubt she’d try that shit again.”

“Georgia…”

“What videos would I show her, hm?” Georgia started dragging one of her fingers into your pussy, beginning with slow, painful strokes that squelched with the sound of your juices. “Maybe she’d like the mirror one. Y’know, when we won against Wolfsburg and I fucked you in the bathroom?”

“Fuck, please Gee.”

“You were so hot in that one… bent over like the slut you are… came three times for your three goals.” She added the second finger in now, speeding up just a smidge all while kissing over your chest. “Do you think she’d like if I sent that one?”

You moaned at the third finger, tears pricking your eyes as Georgia entered your pussy hard and fast, enjoying your pleas and begs through mindless mumbles. You were so far gone that everything she was saying was only making you closer. The sound of her voice was enough to help you closer to release.

“Or maybe I should send the one after your first game with Munich.” She snarled, admiring the darkened marks on your neck. “Do you remember who we played against that game?”

Of course you did, you thought. The game has been one you were stressing over for weeks in advance. You and Georgia had only just moved in together, and there was significant pressure on you to succeed and prove to everyone that you could perform under intimidation.

“Chelsea.”

“Good girl, baby, that's right.” She cooed. “Scored in the first fifteen minutes, and I had to reward my Stargirl for that. That's what they all used to call you, didn't they? She called you Stargirl back then, now it's me who says it, isn't it?”

That was enough to push you closer to the edge. You gripped hard onto her shoulders, crying out as you felt your climax rush over you.

“How bout I send both those videos… show her who I enjoy my night with. Fucking you for being mine.”

“I— I'm yours, Gee. Fuck, please, I'm-”

The release left you reeling. You felt your orgasm leak out all over Georgia’s hand, your head falling against the headrest as you rode out your high with her consistent deep strokes in and out of your pussy. You didn't care about the mess you were making, nor the inflammatory noises you had been making as soon as you felt Georgia touch you. Your body shook from the much-needed release, and by the time you had somewhat caught your breath, the familiar pressure on your nub resurfaced.

You cried out, whining when the silicone dick entered your folds. Georgia looked down at you, kissing you passionately to silence your post-orgasm conscious. She made sure that you didn't push her away before moving the tip of the strap into your hole, smirking when you stretched open for her like you had been calling for it to be filled.

“Gee, its too big, I can't.” You whined, squirming as your hair stuck to your skin. Your girlfriend held your hips down, lowering herself down to where your pussy clenched around the toy as it moved.

“You’ll take it.” She growled. “You said it before. If you can suck me off I can fuck you with it.”

She kept an even pace as her hips finally reached yours, the strap filling your pussy with your slick. Your eyes were firmly clasped shut, your whines filling the car as the aching pain slowly turned into lust. Georgia waited for you to start rocking on it gently. The way you rode her dick so desperately turned her on to extreme lengths. She was somewhat surprised that you could take the length as well as you were, and when your hips met hers, and she felt the toy being bounced on, she realised that she had been still for a few minutes. She wanted to feel bad, but she knew that teasing was good for your ego.

“Gee, can you move?”

Georgia caught sight of the camera, the video still recording the vulgar sight. She groaned at the sight of your shaking legs, and the way you could go longer see the strap that was filled in between your legs. The camera showed the way your tits bounced so perkily every time you tried to gain friction. Your body was enclosed by Georgia’s arms, her thighs overlapping yours, her muscles on full display. Sweat beaded off both of you, moans cascading from your puffy red lips.

With one hand holding her up, she grabbed her phone that was sitting by the console. Her sudden movement sent shockwaves through you, causing you to scream out when the strap pushed into you impossibly closer. Georgia positioned the phone so that it was leaning on the seat, right where the strap was. When she knew that the angle caught all of your body, she lifted her lips slowly before pounding into you.

Your cries were music to her ears, and she thought it sinful to cover them with her hand in fear of being heard. If anything, people would be blessed with the sound, for she thought if heavenly. Your sounds mixed with her groans mixed with your slick against the strap. If any other size, Georgia would move even faster, but her pace was already hard, and you struggled to keep up as your pussy clenched around her.

“So gorgeous.” She uttered, feeling you near your climax for the third time that night. “Such a good girl for taking it.”

“Fuck, Georgia-”

“Gonna fill you up so that you get pregnant, baby. You tell me when and I’ll fill that beautiful body with a baby of our own. Fuck, you’d look so hot with our baby.”

You couldn't even begin to speak, your moans now babble, your speech completely incoherent. Georgia could feel her own release overcoming her, but she waited knowing that you were only seconds away.

“My pretty girl.”

You cried out her name for the last time, your cum coating her cock as she rode out both your high with sloppy deep strokes. You were in a state of pure bliss that you didn't even have the energy to push her off your overstimulated clit. Though, from all the times before, Georgia knew you would be sore, and after keeping still and waiting for both of you to even your breathing, she began to pull out.

You winced, waiting for Georgia to discard the toy and hakt the video before pulling her body into yours.

“I love you, Gee. No one else, baby.”

“I know, my pretty girl. I was only joking.”

You couldn't help but laugh, finding that statement ludicrous. “Yeah, alright, Stanway.”

“Okay, touche.” She replied smugly.

Maybe Millie was right — Georgia couldn't wait till she got home. And she did enjoy her fucking night.

_______________________

[kurokawaia]

❛ UM, WHAT? ❜

Yandere! Illumi Zoldyck X Fem!Reader

| YANDERE CONTENT |

WC; 1.5k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW :: in the pre timeskip, i imagine it to be younger illumi there (so when he's around 18-19 and has the short hair), reader is aslo 17-18 before the timeskip. after the timeskip illumi is 26 and you are 25, stalking!!! death

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) Could you pls write yandere illumi who has been stalking reader for years now, he finally decides to make his move, bumps into you, casually invites you for a date. But as you start talking to him, he's so in love and obsessed he lets creepy things slip during casual conversation eg. Reader: yeah I go to dance classes, though recently I haven't been enjoying them as much because our teacher keeps complaing about his life problems! Can you believe it! And Illumi replies "Yes, that idiot should've left his cheating wife months ago haha" and Reader's like, how did you know that *sweats* Anyway just creepy illumi pls:3 - ANON

m.list | hxh m.list

You were just a high school student when you first noticed him, but only just briefly.

It was one of those ordinary days, but if only you had paid more attention to how this man looked, maybe your life would have turned out different. The man you noticed had quite noticeable features: tall, solemn, a young man who watched you across the street with a curious expression you quickly ignored.

He was dressed in a simple jacket and slack pants, though, his eyes were pericing into your back. You were scared, more or less, the way he was observing you.

With just a headshake, you pretty much forgot the man in your mind, manipulating yourself that he isn't looking at me.

Illumi took an interest in you, for what reason, he did not know. You were just some average girl, not an assassin, and more than likely didn't even know how to use Nen. But you caught his eye.

Your simple life and usual happenings were so different to his own so much that his curiosity was piqued. You looked so innocent that he wanted to taint you to something darker. 

It wasn't very long before curiosity did turn darker and into something more obsessive. 

He started following you more often, always remaining out of your field of sight, and never once approaching you directly. He learned your schedule, your favorite spots, and your friends. He watched over one like a ghost through every mundane task, every joyful moment, and every sorrowful sigh.

Years passed, and that addiction only grew bigger and bigger. The feel of watching you, the satisfaction of knowing everything that happened in your life, made him feel good.

You were his secret obsession, his hidden treasure that no one else could touch.

Then, it happened. You walked down that street, busy with your thoughts, when he decided the time was right. Casually, as if he had suddenly bumped into you, he came towards you. His heart racing from the thrill not of the encounter but of just revealing himself a little.

"Pardon me," he said, his tone silky. You looked up with a jerk since his sudden appearance had startled you. There was something unsettling in the way that he stared at you, yet it was cloaked by a polite smile. "I couldn't help but notice you. We've crossed paths before, haven't we?"

You felt a shiver run down your spine, but you made yourself smile. "I don't think so," you said, trying to keep the subject light.

You had this feeling that you had met this man before but couldn't place with who he was and where you had seen him.

"Perhaps not," he replied lightly, shrugging. "I guess I was mistaken. My name is Illumi. I'd like to get to know you better. Would you be interested in going out sometime?"

"Um, sure," you said hesitantly, unable to shake off the feeling that something was deeply wrong but unable to refuse the polite request. "When would you like to. go out?"

"Would now be okay?" he asks with a tilt of his head, his height was towering over you, you noticed.

"Um, sure," you replied, unable to say no.

You both set off toward a small café in town. You arrived a few minutes early, trying to rid yourself of that strange feeling from earlier. Illumi showed up a little afterwards, his presence still had that air of dread hanging about him which made you uncomfortable, but his smile was warm and inviting.

As you guys settled into your corner booth, you tried to focus on the pleasant atmosphere. Illumi made small talk, his voice smooth and nice. You found yourself slowly opening up, talking about your daily life.

"So, what have you been up to lately?" Illumi asked, never his eyes leaving your face.

Not that he knew of, anyway.

"Well, I've been going to dance classes," you said.

He already knew that.

"Though lately, I haven't really been enjoying them as much. Our teacher just keeps bitching about all his life problems. Can you believe it?"

Illumi's eyes gleamed, "Yes, that idiot really ought to have left his cheating wife months ago. It's pathetic how he drags his personal drama into his classes. Haha."

You felt your heart skip a beat and you froze in shock from his response. "How-how did you know about that?" you stuttered. "I've never told anyone."

Illumi's smile picked up. "Oh, I have my ways," he said smoothly. "I pay attention to the details, you know. It's just a shame he's so miserable. I suppose that's why he hasn't been able to focus on teaching properly."

You tried to compose yourself, forcing a nervous laugh. "Well, I guess you're right. It's just frustrating sometimes."

Illumi nodded, still with that unnerving stare. "I understand. Must be hard on you, dealing with his problems besides your own. I'm sure you are doing your best."

You tried to smile, though the unease in your chest was growing. "Thanks. I guess it just feels like everything's piling up lately."

Illumi's eyes flashed, nay flared, with an eerie serious intent. "Is there anything else bothering you? Perhaps something outside of dance class?"

You felt a little cornered by the intensity of his gaze and hesitated before continuing, "Well, there's this guy at work who's been bothering me. He keeps making these inappropriate comments, trying to corner me whenever I'm alone. It's really unsettling."

Illumi's face clouded for a moment, his frown deepening as he registered your words. "I see," he said slowly. "I didn't realize this. nuisance," he grumbled to himself, cursing himself on how he could have missed something like that in your daily life.

He thought you didn't hear what he said, but you did. A chill ran down your spine at the way he said it.

You hastily tried to change the subject with the urge to get away from the intensity in his gaze. "But enough about that. I'm glad we could meet today. It has been nice talking to you."

Illumi's smile picked up once more, but didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yes, it has been. I enjoyed our time together."

You got to your feet, collecting your things and moving to leave. Illumi followed suit, escorting you to the door of the café. Outside, both of you stepped into the cool evening air, you noticed him freeze for a moment, his eyes set on something far off.

Almost as if he was gauging what move to take next.

"Well, it's time to say goodbye for now, I suppose," you said, forcing cheerfulness into your voice.

Illumi smiled reassuringly but there was something beneath that made you scared. "Indeed. I look forward to the next time we meet."

And so you went off in opposite directions, you homeward. You had walked a way when you couldn't rid the feeling that Illumi had looked at you just one beat longer than he needed to.

Later that night, Illumi sat with reflections upon his mind, bothered by the new information about the man that's been bothering you. How could he have missed this-one nuisance? 

He prides himself on how well he watches over you and has always been fully aware of your every move.

This guy slipped under his watchful eye, and that irked him.

Illumi's face darkened as he made his way to the place where you worked. He found the man who had been harassing you. Getting ready to leave for the night, the man didn't notice Illumi approach him.

The man was turning around, startled by the sudden appearance of the tall stranger. Before he could even utter another word, Illumi's hand had closed tightly around his throat. His eyes widened into a fearful expression as Illumi's voice, in low tone.

"You have caused my precious one unnecessary distress," Illumi said softly, his tone chilling. "For which you shall pay the price."

Illumi made sure the man would never utter another word ever again, his movements calculated and cold. 

The threat to you was gone, and your world would never be disrupted by anyone else other than him. 

No one was ever to come between him and the object of his obsession.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | hxh m.list

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

How will the boys (if they have kids with the reader) react to their kid’s favouriting their s/o, like always wanting her for bedtime stories or comfort stuff like that.

This can be one kid who only does that or all I don’t mind

!IF YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE PLS IGNORE!

Btw this can be for 2007, 2016 or 2003

Your Kid Wants You Instead Of Him (Fluff)

Bayverse!Turtles x reader

A/N: I’m actually studying to become a pedagogue, so this is right up my alley😂💚 It is not uncommon for children between the age of 1 - 3 to show or have parental preferences at times. It’s part of them becoming independent and understanding they have options, so they will start reaching out for these said options.

---------

Warnings: Kids and parental stuff. (and spelling. Mama here is tired after crying during her last tmnt x reader😭😂)

---------

Leonardo:

“You know what time it is, big boy”, Leo said to your son, as he sat on the floor, playing with the train track he had gotten for his three year birthday. “It’s time to get ready for bed”.

“No”, Romeo said, picking his train up from the track, never once looking up at his father. Well that was new. Normally Romeo was all ears whenever Leo told him anything, doing whatever his parents wanted to be called a good boy. A little angel he was. Even now as he tried to ignore his father, he was still as could be, calmly playing on the floor.

“C’mon champ”, Leo said with a warm smile, crouching down so he could get closer to the toddler's height. “We’ll do what we always do! We pick out a cool pajama, and then we brush your teeth, making sure there’s no Karius and Baktus in there, and then I’ll read you a bedtime story”

“Nooo, daddy”, Romeo said, slightly agitated, wiggling his feet as he looked down on the train in his head, rocking himself back and furth, his tongue poking out of his mouth. Leo knew that tone and those movements way too well. His son was getting fussy. Leo knew Romeo was tired. But he stayed cool. He knew better than to stress, causing Romeo to be stressed in turn.

“Why not?”, Leo asked, patiently waiting for Romeo to make an answer, his toy train being his main interest.

“I want mommy to do it”, the toddler mumbled, rubbing his tired eyes.

At first Leo wasn’t sure what to think of that. He was always the one that put Romeo to bed before patrol, and then you would be the one to wake him up the next day, while Leo got some much needed sleep. That was one of the many ways he was sure to get some calm one on one time with his son, just like Leo used to crave from Master Splinter.

But Leo knew not to freak out over it. Who knew why Romeo wanted you to put him to bed today. It could very easily just be a one time thing, so why not let him do it?

“Okay, little ninja”, Leo said, standing up straight once more, reaching out a hand for his toddler. “Come, let’s go find mom”.

Romeo nodded with a tired smile, standing up so he could take Leo’s hand, before the two of them went looking for you in the lair.

Raphael:

“What ya got there, sweetpea?”, Raph asked, taking a seat next to his playing daughter, amongst all her many different dolls. “G. I. Jane?”, he asked, picking up the nearest doll.

“Daddy! No!”, Joan screeched. “Put it down!”

To say that Raph was shocked was an understatement. Joan had never screeched at him. Sure, she had something of a temper, but never has she screeched at him. On the contrary, she was usually the true version of a daddy’s girl, always hanging around him, wanting his attention. Raph’s little bundle of joy. So this had him frozen in place, still having the action figure in hand. And Joan did not like that.

“I said, put it down daddy!”, the three year old yelled, getting up so she could stomp on the ground.

“Joan, babygirl, what’s wrong?-”

That was when the screaming and crying started. Raph had still not let go of her action figure. Poor Raph had not intended to make her cry. He was simply just so shocked that he locked up, not sure what to do.

“It’s okay, princess”, Raph said, putting the action figure down so he could reach out for her so he could bring her in for a comforting hug. But Joan was not having it, yelling even louder, causing Raph to back up slightly.

“What’s going on here?”, you asked, hurrying into the room as soon as you heard your daughter cry.

“I’m not sure”, Raph said, a little scared. But as soon as Joan saw you, she ran straight for you with open arms, calming down the moment you sat down with her.

“It’s okay, Raph”, you comforted him as you saw his sad expression, as you rubbed Joan’s back. “It just happens sometimes with children”.

“Yeah, but I don’t like when she cries”, he said, with a small concerned frown on his face.

“Don’t worry”, you said. “She’ll be good in no time. Just give her a moment”.

And true to your words, she did just that. A few hours later, she was all good again, wanting to play with dolls with her father.

Donatello:

Gali had always been a sweet child, with a need to explore his surroundings. Kind of like how his father always had to explore the possibilities of his work in his lab. Therefore it wasn’t strange that Gali often turned to Donnie whenever experiencing something new. He learned a new sound? He had to say it to Donnie. He learned to stand? He had to show Donnie. He got a kitchen playset as a gift from his uncles? He had shown Donnie. And that was exactly what Gali was playing with, while you and Donnie sat by him, watching the one year old play, smashing his small kitchen utensils against the cabinets, in a way he had seen uncle Mikey do when he found out uncle Leo tried to cook.

“Hey, look at this”, Donnie said, opening one of the small empty kitchen cabinets. Gali looked up, pushed Donnie’s hand away from the cabinet, before slamming it shut, turning back to his work of smashing whatever he had in his hands against the counter. You laughed at this, causing your son to smile at you, before turning back to the kitchen with a happy screech.

Donnie chuckled at this, once again turning his attention toward the cabinet. Out of curiosity he opened it, just wanting to see how it was set up. But your son did not like this.

“No!”, Gali said, pushing Donnies hand away from the kitchen playset. He then fully turned to Donnie, holding up a hand, determination in his eyes, letting out another “no”, before turning back towards the pink kitchen stove.

“O-kay”, Donnie said, slightly surprised. You could not help but smile a little at that too. Who would have thought your sound would have so much attitude hidden inside of him.

“Mommy”, Gali spoke, grabbing onto your hand, pulling you closer to the kitchen. Here he placed your hand upon the cabinet, motioning for you to open it. Once you did, he started putting his kitchen utensils into the open room, seeing how much there was space for.

Donnie let out a fake gasp acting hurt, causing Gali to look at him, making it very hard for you to not laugh. “Have you replaced me, Gali? You don’t want to play with your dad anymore?”

Gali just stared at him before turning back towards his kitchen set, making sounds of excitement as his kitchen utensils started falling out of the cabin and one to the floor.

“Well”, Donnie chuckled. “Can’t argue with that. He got a point”.

You couldn’t stop yourself from roaring out in laughter.

Michelangelo:

Sunny was a sweet and wonderful girl, with a smile as bright as the sun. The two of you counted yourself lucky for giving her such a fitting name, seeing every time you called out her name, she would come to you with a famous big smile, arms wide open asking for a hug. Especially from Mikey.

Sunny had always been a daddy’s girl. She always wanted to hug him, and she always wanted to cuddle up to him whenever she got tired. And whenever she had a nightmare, it was always him she called out for. But then one day, as all three of you sat in the living area of the lair, watching television, something different happened.

Like usual, whenever the time started getting close to Sunny’s bedtime, she would start to doze off. Her eyes slowly falling shut and her head slowly falling forward. At this point, she would normally just crawl over to Mikey and start cuddling up against his side, a sign that he had to get up and get her ready for bed. But tonight she was fighting it. Forcing her heavy eyes awake and snapping her head up, before slowly dozing off again, only to force herself awake again.

Mikey smiled at this before wrapping an arm around her, pulling her close to his side. But surprisingly, Sunny resisted that, letting out a few sounds of displeasure, pushing herself out from under his arm, before sitting at the same spot she sat in before. You and Mikey looked surprised at each other, neither of you really sure what was going on.

“What’s up, Sunny?”, Mikey asked your fussy toddler in concern. “You don’t wanna cuddle with daddy?”

“No”, she mumbled, not even looking at him before she crawled straight into your arms, trying to sooth herself by playing with her own fingers, staring off into the distance, resting her head against your chest.

Mikey was taken back. Where did his little cuddle bug go? He was confused for a moment, wondering if he had done something wrong. He hated the thought that he might have made his precious little girl sad without knowing it.

Sensing Mikey’s uneasiness, you leaned down to Sunny. “Do you just wanna cuddle with mommy for a bit?” She tiredly nodded her head. “Will you let daddy put you to bed afterwards?” She nodded again, before sighing, letting her head rest against you, her small eyes closing as she fell asleep. You and Mikey exchanged amused glances. How had you managed to get so lucky with a wonderful girl like her?

[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

chapter two: making amends

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

masterlist

warnings: language, mentions of disordered eating, mentions of past bullying, heavy descriptions of food and eating

word count: 1.8k

Taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @cjand10

A/N: chapter two is here! if you're enjoying pls reblog / like / comment and let me know!! also comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

PREVIOUS PART -- CHAPTER ONE: THE BOLTER

For the next month or so, you do your best to avoid him, even though you ache for him to walk past the infirmary and every time he magically appears like you’ve wished, bruised up from sparring or a cut from cooking, you ignore him.

The second he walks in, you try your best to look busy, or send him off with a quick Bandaid. The injuries he comes in with are never anything serious, and you wonder who he’s here for. Even when another nurse tends to him, you can feel his eyes run down your spine, like you’re the object of his desires. 

It’s so hard to keep yourself away, to deny it when you feel him staring at you like a heavy weight on your back, especially when it creates such a chasm in your chest to turn him away. But he keeps coming back, and your resolve keeps waning and waxing like the crescent moon.

It’s one such instance when you’re restocking the medical supplies like bandages and syringes, when Bucky creeps up on you, as you hum away to whatever song is stuck in your head. The infirmary is completely empty at this point, everyone retiring for the night seeing as there are currently no missions for any of the squad. As Head Nurse, you keep yourself in charge of supplies, diligently noting all the numbers by hand even when FRIDAY can do it for you just as well. 

“Hey.” He breathes, you name entangled in the exhalation. You jump out of your skin, turning around and dropping the large box of gauze you hold, tiny plastic packets ricocheting off the floor. He’s leaning on the doorframe, but immediately pushes himself off, extending both hands toward you, as if to show you he’s unarmed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” His adorable face twists in concern, and when your soul finally finds its way back into your body, you let out a shaky laugh.

“It’s okay, James. I just thought I was all alone in here, and I didn’t hear you come in.” You kneel on the floor and start gathering the spilled items back on the floor, and he crouches to help you. Your hand brushes his vibranium one, and you pull away from the spark of electricity that jolts up your spine, but unbeknownst to you, Bucky reads the entire situation quite differently. 

“I wanted to talk to you.” Your eyes flit up and meet his, the look in them indiscernible. What could he possibly want to talk to you about? You find yourself getting lost, stranded in the sea hues of his irises, and you stand up. 

“To me? What about?” He too rises, and the height difference between you and him makes you swallow a gasp, marvelling at how much bigger he is than you.

“Are you afraid of me?” He asks, staring down at his hands facing palms up, his tone so soft it moves you. The space between your bodies has never felt bigger, and you itch to close it.

“No, of course not. Why would you think that?” You take a step in his direction, silently begging him to meet your eyes, no matter how distracting they are. 

“Of my past. Are you sure? Not even a little?” You immediately pick up what he’s putting down, what the forlorn look in his eyes is referring to.

“No,” you assure him firmly, “I wouldn’t be scared of you for that. That wasn’t you. I— I don’t want to bring it up, but…you were used as a vessel for horrible evil. But that doesn’t mean you did it. That’s not who you are, James. Steve loves you, you guys have saved the world time and time again. He trusts you, so does everyone else in this building. Why would I be scared of that?” You tilt your head, searching his startled expression.

“Then why are you avoiding me?” He takes another step towards you, and all of a sudden it’s too short a distance and you take a step back, spine crashing against the shelves and in your haste almost miss the tortured look that paints across his features for a split second.

“I—um…You called me really pretty.” You decide to be truthful. He clearly didn’t expect those words to leave your mouth

“So you skip dinner?”

“What? I…I don’t skip. I just don’t like eating in front of people, and I’m quite busy. You know, being a nurse and all.” Your heart catches in your throat at the fact that maybe he’s figured you out. And it’s true, you don’t attend dinner with the rest of people in your building, and it really is because you don’t like eating in the presence of other people. But… he doesn’t need to know the rest.

“Sure. All three times a day?” You nod, unable to speak as your cheeks light themselves on fire. 

“Oh, come on, just admit it. You’re afraid of me.” He lunges at you, but you don’t move. It’s not him you’re afraid of, just of how he makes you feel. You can’t explain that, it would just be embarrassing.

“I’m not. I already told you.” He’s so close it’s hard to focus when you can smell him and it makes your eyes erratically flutter at just how fucking good his cologne smells, stimulating pretty much all of your sense as you try to hold his gaze. 

Has the colour blue always been so consuming?

“Then why is it that every time I come down here, you do everything in your power to avoid me, or to send me back as quick as humanly possible?” He cradles your head in his human hand, and the warmth radiating off of his body makes you melt.

“You called me pretty.” You repeat. “I thought you were making fun of me.” 

The silence is deafening and you watch the gears in his pretty head turn as he formulates a reply. “I wasn’t. I meant it— I mean it.” You huff out a laugh, shaking it off. “Really, I wasn’t joking, or making fun of you. I mean it, I do think you’re really pretty. Respectfully.” The mild internet reference coaxes a smile out of you.

“Okay.” 

“Come with me. I want to do something with you.” You blink at him incredulously and silently nod, and he grins and takes your hand. You try to not stumble over yourself at the way he’s touching you, or the way he looks when he smiles as he drags you to the kitchen.

It’s quite late at night, and it seems everyone is asleep. “Everyone’s off to do karaoke, or drinks or something. I don’t know, I didn’t ask.” You tug at your sleeves as he fiddles with something on the ridiculously large stove unsure of where to stand or what to do.

“You’re not a fan of large crowds, are you? Me neither. It’s always too loud and hot everywhere —Guess I’m just not like other girls.” He laughs at that, and you smile, the sardonic joke landing exactly as you intended. 

When Bucky turns around, he’s holding two plates of food. “Now, apparently there’s this one really popular show I haven’t watched, I was wondering if you wanted to with me?” You stare at him, stomach grumbling at an embarrassing volume.

“Depends on what show it is.”

“I don’t really remember. It was supposed to be funny? Sam recommended it to me, it’s called Annabelle. Apparently, it’s about a girl and her doll?” A laugh escapes you before you can stop it.

“Is Sam already back to his tricks? James, Annabelle is a horror movie franchise where the main premise is some evil demon possesses a doll and wreaks havoc on whoever has it. It’s not funny, but you can laugh at it. Some of the VFX are horrible, and the jumpscares are cheap.”

“BFX?” He tilts his head to the side as you approach him, smiling at his childlike innocence.

“VFX. It stands for Visual effects, I’m pretty sure.” He processes your words, eyebrows furrowed so cutely you could cry and try to smooth it with your thumb. 

“Oh. Well in that case you can choose. You like burgers, right? I asked FRIDAY what your go-to meal is, and she said you like them. I hope you don’t mind, I made them how I used to, before the world went to shit.” He offers you a meek smile, extending one plate to you, loaded to high heaven with fries that make your mouth water by smell alone. You take the plate, a beautiful sage green decorated with artistic splatters of darker hues, unable to say no.

“Oh. Yes, thank you. You didn’t have to do this, though.” You don’t look up to meet his eyes, too scared of what emotions dwell in them. He wishes you would though, wishes you would look at him longer than in five second bursts. 

“I did. I thought maybe you’d like me a little more,” he chuckles ever so sadly and you finally grant him his secret wish. “What? I do like you, but just… we’ve already discussed it, and unfortunately the only time I’d see you is during meals. It’s not you, James. It’s me.” You move to sit down on the comfortable black couch situated in front of the ostentatiously massive TV screen, waiting for Bucky to join you.

“Then why do you call me James?” He sits awfully close to you, but you don’t mind. Not when it’s cold and he’s so warm. He stares down at you, once again silently begging you to meet his gaze.

“Your third day here, one trainee tried calling you Bucky. You berated him to high heaven and gave him a beating to match. He told me you don’t like people who aren’t close to you calling you Bucky. I don’t think I could survive a beating like that, to be honest.” You laugh, slowly beginning to eat, not worried for half a minute on his thoughts on the matter. He seems more focused on your words.

“You can call me Bucky, if you want. I don’t mind. You’re not a trainee, you’re the Head Nurse of this place, doll. Who would I be to deny the very woman who’ll patch me up the second I get a scratch?” He begins to dig into his food too, and to your joy, you’re not the one eating the most. Not that you’d shame him for it, how on Earth could you when you’ve been on the receiving end of it? But it’s nice to sit with someone who definitely won’t judge you.

“Okay…Bucky.” He smiles at you, bright and dazzling and you’re fucked. Completely, utterly, thoroughly fucked.

NEXT PART

[luxtrys]

size kink headcanons with ani pls 😍😍😍 I’m on my knees for this man ahdskks

size kink and ani... ♡

✩ he had always known the two of you had a very obvious size difference. he didn't want to point it out because, well you were so oblivious to it, and he didn't want to say anything about your body or your height that could hurt your feelings but even as a kid you were significantly smaller than him. while all the girls were going through the phase of being taller than the boys in childhood, there wasn't one second anakin didn't have at least 6 inches on you. and he loved every bit of it.

✩ but.. despite how hard he tried to ignore how he was more than a foot taller than you, he couldn't help it anymore. he's so cocky about it 1000% of the time.

✩ "here babydoll, lemme get that for you" you heard a voice say behind you as your back made contact with someone's torso, their whole body fully engulfing you from behind. "i had it anakin" you replied, snatching the book from his hand as you turned around to face him, leaning softly against the bookcase in the library of the jedi temple and huffing. "sure you did angel" his voice was melodic and teasing, cooing as you flinched softly as his ice-cold fingertips made contact with your face to push a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. you really did, i mean god knows how many padawans and jedis watched you jump helplessly to reach the book on the top shelf of the nearly seven feet tall bookcase. "when are you gonna admit you need your big bad ani to help you sometimes baby", he emphasizes the last words mockingly exaggerating how much he had to lean down to cup your face in his massive hands. "never." you replied, slipping out of his grasp and walking away swiftly, giggling to yourself as you heard the booming strides of your now hopefully annoyed boyfriend behind you.

✩ due to his height and well your lack thereof, it's sometimes difficult to express your feelings and display your physical affection to him. and your shyness doesn't particularly help, since you can't simply give him a kiss when you feel like it without having to ask him to bend down as you go all the way to your tippy toes. he admires how bashful and shy you are, he just thinks your to sweet for him, for the world. makers, you can even count the number of forehead kisses you receive from him on a daily.

✩ but it isn't just his height that made you two so different. because everything about anakin is massive. and he knows you loved it. he watched attentively as your cheeks flushed when he basically forced you to compare your hand sizes. along with your palm being pathetically morphed by the massive surface of his hand, his fingers were also at least a couple centimetres longer than yours.

✩ and when i say everything about anakin is massive, i mean everything.

nsfw!!

✩ no matter how many times anakin had fucked you, you never get used to just how massive he is.

✩ he had to use all his might not to cum down your throat instantly when you first gave him head. i mean, it didn't help that you thought the best way to go about it was deepthroating him, choking instantly at the intrusion in your mouth.

✩ even after stretching you out with 3 fingers and no matter how wet you are, its almost always too much of a stretch for you to handle. but he tells you to take it and that you're all alright in the most condescending voice he can muster.

✩ the first time he entered inside of you, and after the cloudy haze from your tightness subsided, he noticed the imprint of his dick in your lower stomach. he almost came right there and then, the sight of his cock digging all the way into your stomach and practically bulging out of your porcelain skin.

✩ he watches the way your eyes nearly pop straight out of your head when he reaches is massive hand down to your stomach, pushing his hand delicately on the outline of his cock. "feel that baby? can't believe i actually fit in this tight little pussy."

✩ and having sex with ani, meant experiencing at least 30 minutes of after care afterwards. he wouldn't let you sleep until he dragged a damp wash cloth up and down your folds, making you shiver. he then picked you up like you weighted nothing, carrying you over to your massive bathtub, filled to the brim with steaming hot water and lavender scented bubbles. you always convinced him to bath with you of course, sitting between his legs and resting your back up against his chest. he then lathered your bright pink loofa up with whatever scent of body wash you picked out before hand, trying not to get turned on again by you for the 100th time tonight at the sight of your soapy body. "so perfect baby" he muttered, trailing his hands up and down your body before cupping your soap lathered breasts in his hands, leaning down to kiss all over your face.

[swifty-fox]

[ adore ] buck to bucky pls?

ohohoh I love that

[ adore ] for a kiss on the stomach/thighs

The thing about John Egan, the thing that Gale secretly loved and tried not to let it show because it would open far too many doors, is that he was large. Sure, there were men of equal height to him, even some taller. But it was the broadness of Bucky, the way mass clung to him even though he was war-time fit. Around his stomach, spanning his thighs. He dwarfed the cots they slept on and Gale knew for a fact he'd had to go and get his uniform tailored back in Flight School before they were important enough for the Army to care about individual measurements.

His palms and fingers were long enough to nearly stretch the span of Gale's back, a single thigh not much better and his chest felt as big as a sheepskin when it pressed against Gale's back. Their height difference was negligible at best and ignorable at worst, but Gale felt slight next to him all the same.

When he kisses down John's chest, its with his legs spread across a torso so broad it makes his hips ache, when he sets his teeth to the curve of John's bicep the span of his skin seems neverending. Dipping his head into the soft curve of his underarm to lick away the fresh perspiration, his arm covers Gale's head completely.

John's body beneath Gale is a vast expanse of handsome beauty, scarred and bruised and achingly familiar.

They're on leave in London, they have a bed and a private room and a hot bath and they are making every bit of it count. Gale's already been fucked twice, John once, and they're aiming for an equal balance, John lying pliant and eager beneath Gale.

The heat between them had been sated enough by the three previous rounds that John is happy to lay back and allow Gale his worship, brushes large fingers through his hair and murmurs quiet encouragements between sighs of pleasure as Gale feasts on his skin.

"Not getting tired, are you, Major?" Gale asks, laving his tongue through the curling hair on John's torso, kissing along his stomach and down his thighs, sinking his teeth into the muscled flesh until bruises bloom dark and angry.

John groans, spreads his legs to Gale falls further into the cradle of his body and laughs.

Gale likes that, loves that John laughs even during intimacy.

"Not by a long shot, Major."

[l0vergirlatheart]

Idk if ur requests are open, but hear me out XD. A creator!reader who descends on Teyvat meets all the Archons and such. Then up and leaves by changing their appearance in order to explore their creation and how it has changed. Every once in a while Creator will make themselves obvious by performing acts only the Creator could. Once they are found out they just up and leave again only to resurface after another Divine act. TLDR: Creator playing cat and mouse with Teyvat

oh my GOD creator is just TORTURING then atp

small ramble because i still have massive writers block [cries] also ignore how late this is pls ok mwamwa thnx

c.w // yan. chars

song : Best Friend - Rex Orange County

SAGAU INCOMING : YAN CHARS.

okay so you decided 'hey man, what if i wasn't worshipped the moment i stepped outside'

so you just said fuck it and shifted

(it's been a while since you've done so, it kind of felt weird and hurt a tiny bit)

walking around teyvat in an odd, different form. completely different hair, height, clothes, you get the gist

the only things you couldnt change however were three things:

your blood (still gold, but you didn't plan on bleeding infront of anyone)

your aura (still comforting, caring, and even alluring)

your voice (why? zero clue.)

escaping the throne room you've oh so sadly been bound to!! having fun while doing it!!

(the only real reason you managed to escape is bc you managed to get the archons out and actually tend to their nations, as per your request order)

messing around while escaping fr!! people passing by wondering why this random person they've never seen is (not very) sneakily running away from the creator's palace/temple

but eventually shrugging it off, albeit reluctantly

messing around in mondstat, playing with the npc children more than you could usually, giving them the time of their life!!

this is where you use your first creator powers >:3

some poor kid scraped his knee real hard on the bridge, let's say timmie (hes so sweet he just wants to defend his birds pls b nice to him!!)

you, being the belovent god you are, use your divine powers to heal him

whether you do it with the hc of having to use your own gold blood or just having special healing powers only creator has, you do it

however, your dumbass mind hadn't thought of the fact that Venti may have been watching this

new outlander person with a mysterious aura

and now he quickly learns its you :0!!

the archons had no clue you could shapeshift!! why wasnt this in the ancient scrolls??? did they just lose the ones that mentioned it???

venti immediately finds some weird wind way to tell the other archons

fucking loud mouth

speaking of which, ei is freaking. out.

she came back to just check on you in your throne room and youre just.

not there??

panics, almost goes to zhongli before she gets venti's message and calms down slightly

atp you've realize you've outed yourself

so after making sure timmie is find you quickly run off into the forest before venti can come after you and smother you (both physically and with questions)

forest reached, new mission : new form needed

this basically keeps happening, and it's a needed breath of fresh air for you

running to liyue looking like a normal person until you magically form a special medicine that was unheard of from your hand for an elder, sickly lady

running from liyue to sumeru and shifting into!! an animal!! a fox!! cat!! tiger!! dog!! bird!! any of the sort!!

only getting outed from sumeru after you accidentally spoke while in animal form and having to go over to inazuma as an unknown, traveling sailor!!

getting outed after that for your extremely familiar aura and voice (inazuma people are scarily observant towards strangers) and eventually getting shoved escorted back to your palace/temple

funny stories to tell

however, the archons wont be leaving your room for quite a while..

oh well, who says you don't have other stunts to pull?

[cupidspup]

I loved the ticci Toby fic you did! Would you mind doing one for slenderman or Jeff the killer?

Your wish is my command! >:3

CG! Slenderman x Little! Reader

As requested by @theoceantot !! :D

(Art is not mine and credit goes to the original artists!!)

A/N: I'm not sure if you wanted it to be a specific gender BUT I did think it would he cute if I had him with a little who's obsessed with having a fancy tea party with him! I'll try to keep it as gender neutral as possible with some feminine leaning things here and there :3 Also pls ignore any and all spelling/grammar mistakes I always write on my phone and I'm too lazy to check >_> I hope you enjoy! ૮ ᴖﻌᴖა -Cupid ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Summary: You've been waiting all day for your caregiver to make some time for your very important meeting! And finally today is the day he's set everything aside just for you! What shenanigans will ensue for today's play date?

C/W: Feminine nicknames, gender neutral nicknames, use of "sir" and "mister/mr." as nicknames for Slender (not all the time just most of it!!), the use of "papa" as a nickname, mentions of food, mentions/descriptions of slenderman and how his mouth works :]

You sit in your playroom, huffing as you watch the clock in the wall tick back and forth. Your papa said that today was the day you'd finally have some play time!! You've been excited for it all day and you've done everything you could to prepare for it!!

And by that you've prepared exactly what you wanted for today and how you wanted it. You're not high maintenance...just particular! And high maintenance or not, luckily Slender was more than equipped to handle anything from you.

Just before you were about to huff one more time, there's a gentle knock on the door. A loq voice speaks, it would he booming if it wasn't so gentle. Most would be trembling at the sound if such an intimidating voice, but not you no. To you, that's just the voice of your loving and doting caregiver!

"May I come in, dear?"

It says before entering. You sit up excitedly as you speak, "You may!"

The doorknob turns as the door opens. A tall faceless man stands in the doorway, his skin white as snow itself. The one and only Slenderman stands before you and he's here to have only the grandest of times with you.

He ducks as he walks through the door, closing it gently before turning to you. A gentle hand pats the top of your head, his face holds no expression but with his touch says it all.

"Very good job at using your manners, little one. Just like how I've taught you." His praise makes your chest tingle slightly with excitement. He bends down and scoops you unto his arms carefully, making sure not to mishandle you in any way.

"Were you waiting long, sweetness? I know I took longer than expected, however, there should not be any other interruptions now." He says as he rests you against his hip. You cling onto him a little tighter, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pull yourself a little closer. You love your papa but heights will forever make you just a little scared.

You shoot your caregiver a glare. Giving him your poutiest lip and a little huff. To which he chuckles softly as he walks you to the bed.

"I will take that as a yes."

He sets you down before going to your closet filled with all your fanciest little clothes. He opens the doors and looks through the selection. Without looking to you he keeps talking, still looking through all of your dresses and accessories.

"Did you have a specific outfit in mind for today, my little love?"

"Nu uh. But I wanna do tea party, Mister!" You say in return. You kick your feet at the last bit of your sentence, wanting to emphasize how badly you'd like to have that tea party.

"A tea party? Hmmm. That means I need to dress you for the occaision now doesn't it?"

Long black tendrils sprout from his back, each one moving as if it had a mind of its own. They each grab a hold of different dresses and accessories and holding them up so that Slender can close the door.

"Please stand for me my dear, I need to see which outfit will suit you the most. Not to say you wouldn't look darling in all of them of course." He says as he makes his way to you, getting onto one knee.

Once he's down to your level you stand on the floor, arms to your side as you wait for him to pick. He puts multiple dresses in front of you some with ruffles and frills, others with ribbons and sleek cut. Slender loves dressing you up like a little doll. He finds it relaxing and it makes you feel so special knowing he's doing something and keeping you in mind. Finally, he settles on what he deems to be the perfect outfit.

A puffy pink dress with white frills and pink bows, some frilly white bloomers for you to wear under, lacy tights to keep you covered with some matching ruffled socks, some shiny black Mary Jane's, matching ruffled gloves and some clips for your hair. He lays all the necessary things out to keep himself organized while he gets you ready. While he knows you are perfectly capable for the most part of dressing yourself since you're regressed to an older age, he truly does enjoy doing these little things for you. And you would never stop him or tell him no.

Unless if you were in a bratty mood that is.

But today isn't one of those days. Today, you're dying to be fanned over and coddled the way he is doing so now. You love the gentle tone he uses when he asks you to do certain things while changing such as staying still when he buttons up your dress. Or when he sits you down for your socks and shoes and asks you to lift your feet for him to put them on.

One of your favorite parts of Slender getting you dressed is how he is always so gentle. Especially with all the nicknames he uses for you.

"Sweetness" "little love" "darling" "dear" "baby doll" or "dolly" Absolutely anything that will make you feel as pretty and wonderful as you truly are. To Slender, you are as fragile and precious as one of your many teacups from your many tea sets.

Once he has you dressed fully, your most favorite part comes. Slender doing your hair. Him doing your hair and putting it into cute hair styles is your most favorite part. The feeling of his fingers in your hair, the cautious and gentle way he handles you, the way that your hair always comes out exactly how you want it to be whenever he does it. You can't think of any way your caregiver could be better than how he is now.

He holds your gloved hand in his and leads you to your mirrored vanity. Lifting you into your chair and facing you towards your reflection. A little smile creeps onto your face as you look at how pretty you're looking already! Slender's tendrils come back into view, each of them holding a different item that he'll be using for your hair.

First, he spritzes it with some water and detangler. Just to dampen it a little and make easier to untangle any knots and tangles as he combs through it.

" My little one, would you like to practice counting your numbers while I comb your hair?"

You give him a nod and sit up, waiting for your hair to be brushed. If he had a face, he would smile. Instead he brings all your hair back, softly caressing your cheeks in between before gently running the brush through your hair. You count each stroke as he brushes through your hair. Slender always has the gentlest touch saved just for you. It makes you feel all the more special in these moments when he does it the most.

With one last stroke he stops brushing. His black tendrils taking the brush from his hands now. He presses the area where his mouth would reside and keeps it there for a second.

A makeshift kiss for the faceless man.

"You're an excellent counter, I'm so proud of you for learning to count your numbers so well."

You feel your face flush a little when he says this. You cower just a little from the shyness. He notices and rubs the top of your head lovingly before moving on.

With a few hair ties, Bobby pins and other hair accessories your hair is now properly ready for a tea party! It fascinates you how lovely Slender can make your hair look. It makes your chest flutter how doting and caring he can be when it's just you two.

"Let me get a good look at you, darling. I would love to see how fancy you're looking today."

To that you stand up and give him a little twirl, giggling as you do. You shine your bestest smile at him before running up to his less, giving him a big hug.

"Thankie Mister Papa Slendy!!" You say excitedly, smooshing your face into him. He chuckles and pats your head lovingly again.

"Awe, what a polite little thing. You're very welcome. Are we just about ready to start our tea party, little miss?"

You nod your head yes and hold onto his much larger hands, leading him to your pile of stuffies. "Mhmm mhmm!! I juss gotta get ma frens n we ready!!" You say as you start grabbing plushies and putting them into their own pile. Slender uses his tendrils and gentle picks up each of your "friends", making sure they're being treated with the best love and care.

"Little one, would you like me to set up your tea party and make the tea while you ready yourself?" He offers kindly as he sits all of your plushies down in their respective spots. You turn to him with a smile. "Yes peas, sir!"

He nods and walks out of the room, off to find one of his more floral patterned tea sets for you to use. While he's gone you get all of your stuffies ready for the tea party! Some having little hats, or bonnets or ties anything to make them extra fancy! You look at yourself in the mirror and you find that you wanna look extra EXTRA fancy for Slender when he gets back. You sit and think for a moment, your frisky dress poofing up as you do before an amazing idea hits you.

You sit at your vanity and open your dresser, all your makeup sitting perfectly there. Waiting for you to give them a try. You squeal excitedly as you pick out which things to use.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Just when you added your finishing touches to your very elegant and cute makeup look you hear a knock at the door.

"Princess, may I enter please?"

You squeal and kick your feet excitedly. "Yes papa slendy sir yous may!!" You say with a cheerful tone. Slender turns the knob and lets himself in. In his hands is a tray with all of your tea party needs, everything sorted nice and neatly. He sets everything onto the table and gives each of your friends their own respective tea cup.

"Papa papa!! Wanna see what I dids when you was gone?" You say excitedly as you tug on his pant leg. He turns to you curiously before looking at you and your makeup.

It's over the top and sparkly but perfectly tou, he chuckles and reaches for your hand bringing it up to his "face".

"You look absolutely precious, princess. A divine little doll you are."

He presses his face to your knuckles, another faceless kiss for you.a very gentlemanly one at that. You fidget shyly, playing with the hem of your skirt and muttering a soft thank you to him. He hoists you into his arms and walks to the table before sitting down. Sitting you down into his lap and letting you get comfortable before setting a tea cup in front of you.

You scoot into him and snuggle up, nuzzling into his chest. "May I serve you some tea, dolly of mine?" You nod and look up to him. "I help do it peas?" To which he nods, bringing the tea pot closer to you.

"Of course but be very careful, it is very hot and I would not want you to get burned."

He places your hands onto the tea pot, helping you pour some tea into the cup. He then picks up a small pitcher of cream and pours the smallest amount in.

"Would you like one lump or two, sweetness?"

You put up two fingers to him and he, of course, puts two sugar cubes in. With his tendrils he keeps the tea cup still as he stirs it all in. While he does that he hugs you close with his arms, reaching one hand to gently caress your cheek lovingly. Once he's done stirring the tea he brings the cup to your lips, holding the saucer right under (in the just too cool fancy way).

"Blow gently and take a small sip for me princess, tell me how it is."

You take a deep breath, blowing at the warm tea before taking a small sip. The warm liquid makes you feel just so cozy and comfy. The perfect amount of subtle sweetness. You sigh happily after and smile, relaxing further into him. He chuckles and you can feel the vibrations in his chest when he does.

"I take it that it was to your liking?"

He says and you node back happily in response. "Try it papa, is soooo good!" He nods "Very well, I'll try it." And brings it to his face. To most this would be an odd sight. How would he drink if he has no mouth? Well that's a very easy question.

He simply makes one! ^_^

This would be scary to a lot of people but with the amount of tea parties you have? It's just another ordinary thing to you. Slenderman's face starts to move and almost expand. As it gets longer you see a mouth start to form and almost looks like it's being torn open to do so. Slender doesn't make a sound he's simply doing it as if it was just a common thing. When really it sort of is with the two of you.

Once his mouth was fully open he takes a sip of the tea, looking down to you.

"This is a very nice cup of tea, darling. You helped me make it very nicely. Very well done." He says before offering you another sip.

For the rest of the time the two of you drink your tea. He of course pours some out to all of your friends making sure everyone has their fill and a snack to go with it. You both continue sharing your teacup, taking turns drinking sips from it. Slender even does his pink up when you ask him to. He adores his little doll, seeing how sweet you can be brings him so much joy. He loves you to pieces and would spend as many hours as you'd like having tea parties with you.

You're his little one after all

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚🐾₊˚ෆ🍼

BONUS:

After a other hour or so of you both talking and sharing tea you find that, this tea makes you very sleepy. Not just because of how warm and cozy is makes you feel. Maybe it's the way he's talking to you or maybe it's being in his arms. But it makes you feel so safe and comfy it makes you want to curl up and take a nap right there.

Abd who's to tell you not to?

So that's exactly what you do. While Slender is distracted doing other things, you yawn and start drifting to sleep. Slender is quick to notice this. And being the good papa he is he rubs your back softly, working your shoes off so you'll sleep easier.

"Maybe giving them chamomile tea was not a bad idea after all."

You murmur something in your sleep and burrow your head even deeper. He runs his fingers through your hair as he watches you rest.

"What precious little thing. All tuckered out from just a little tea party." He gives you one last kiss on your head, snuggling you closer as his tendrils reach for your blanket and drape it over you.

"Sleep well, little miss.🩷" He says.

[loverslantern]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: (Duo POV) After a hunt gone wrong Dean falls sick. Now on his death bed Sam and Y/N do whatever it takes to save him from the void that is death, even if that means running into trouble.

Warnings: Cannon violence, Ansgt, hospitals, talk about dying and death, illness, heart issues, talk of past deaths, grief, Dean may be OOC or at least his inner thoughts but let me know, Historical and religious talk of the Celts and Christianity if anything is incorrect/ inaccurate pls tell me so I may fix it, cursing

A/N: Thank you so much for 100 followers, never thought this series would get so much love!

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn , @crazyunsexycool

Word Count: 15,139

Faith

(Master list, Prev. Ch, Next Ch)

I hate hospitals.

I hate hospitals, especially when it is someone you care about on the medical bed.

I hate hospitals, especially when you can’t be in the room with the person; when you have to sit in the waiting room with nothing but pure anxiety coursing through your veins, and everyone around you is in the same position.

At least Sam is with him, that must make both of them feel better. But it doesn't make me feel as better as it should, my leg bounces rapidly no distraction working for me. I tried reading and listening to music on my stupid iPod, but neither worked- not when my mind was going a hundred miles a minute on all the worst possibilities.

It wasn't meant to be a difficult hunt, going after a rawhead. Yet it all went wrong far too quickly, Dean yelled for Sam and I to get the children out of the basement while he stayed behind fighting the thing. It would be a single shot with a taser, easy to mess up on, truthfully, which is why I had given mine up for him to have as an extra one before I carried a young boy out. It was all wrong. So so wrong. He shot the thing but they both happened to be standing in a small puddle of water, and water conducts stupid electricity and he got hurt too.

Sam had found him. We called for an ambulance and rushed him to the hospital, he was unconscious the whole time.

Sam had to talk to the receptionist for insurance and then the cops explaining what happened and then a doctor. But they wanted to talk privately and he wanted to see Dean alone first. Which only increased my anxiety, Sam wouldn’t have done that unless something was horribly wrong. Something was horribly wrong. I felt like I was going to vomit or shake myself out of existence, maybe the latter would be better. Everyone around me wasn't much better, looking the same shade of nervousness. Some were crying, pacing, or on the phone talking rapidly. Hospitals were a horribly depressing place.

I’m unsure how much time passes, minutes, hours, an eternity? Sam walks towards me, tears in his eyes some clearly having spilled over by the redness of his cheeks. No. No. No.

I stand up walking to him almost without noticing as if it was all just natural, tears fill my own eyes and I can feel my hands shaking. No. No. He wouldn't be crying if–

“Sam?” I said weakly, my voice wobbling horribly. I swallow down a knot in my throat, this couldn't be happening. No.

He drops his head down, his hair covering his face and likely more tears that spilled over. “Sam,” I say again my voice breaking. I couldn't lose someone else, couldn't lose anyone else. He finally lifts his head, barely being able to hold eye contact. He seems to wobble and all at once he falls into me, I hold him, his head dropping awkwardly into my neck, from the height difference, broken sobs leaving his mouth. He hugs me tightly, grasping desperately to the back of my shirt. Something is horribly wrong. I blink back my tears, I had to be strong for Sammy. This was his brother, I might have lost both my parents but I couldn't imagine how it would feel to lose my brother.

My neck grows damp but I ignore it. I hold the back of his head, holding him, no comforting words forming in my mind. “Sam” I breathe. I felt like I was going insane. He pulls himself away, keeping me in arm's distance. His face is red and blotchy from crying, and his hair is a mess. “Please” I begged one last time, my voice quivering.

He sniffles hard, but I do not expect him to be strong, “He has a month, at best” his voice is coarse and shaky but the words feel like they came out in slow motion. Everything freezes, turning into a buzz of white noise. I can feel tears spill down my cheeks but I can’t move. I can’t. No. He can’t be dying. No. No. He wasn’t allowed to. The world seemed to shatter, no, maybe that was my heart. I can feel it beating in my ears, everything else fading away. His mouth moves, he is saying something else but I cannot hear him over the sterile noise of the world crumbling. I don't understand. My throat is so tight I feel like I might just break right there. My knees feel weak and the floor seems closer than before.

Sam pulls me into him, holding me tightly once again, his hands cradling my head as a choked sob leaves my lips. Tears pour down my eyes, he promised. All those months ago he promised he wouldn’t leave me, it was a stupid and fruitless promise but I believed it.

He couldn’t die. He can’t, he can’t die. No one else. Not again.

All too soon Sam pulls back, his arms being the only thing that seems to be holding me up. I can barely make out his features behind my own teary eyes. “He wanted me to come get you, ‘wouldn’t talk without you there” he croaks. A whole new sob breaks through my lips, I wasn't strong enough for this. I went through this twice, I could not take another. Tear after tear passes down my face, my cheeks stiff with it. I shake my head, this can’t be happening again, but even so, I let him pull me down the halls to his room trying my best to blink away my never-ending tears. But it was useless, not when it felt like I was being torn in two.

I stopped at the threshold of the doorway, he looked so weak, he was so pale and he had dark circles under his eyes that were not there hours before. An IV sticks out of his arm along with various machines around him, including an EKG. New tears fall over the rim of my eyes and I have to force my hand to clasp my mouth to hide another sob. Sam enters the room, his face hard and rid of any of the emotions he showed just moments ago. How could he do that?

Dean’s eyes are focused on the TV, but even from where I was partially hiding I could see his green eyes had grown dull, “Have you ever actually watched daytime TV? It's terrible” he jokes but he sounded weak too, his voice rid of its usual playful tone and familiar gruffness. Sam shakes his head and sighs, his ability to not break down in front of his brother was impressive to the point of it being scary, “I talked to your doctor.” But Dean continues to ignore anything that wasn’t that stupid TV playing commercials, “That fabric softener teddy bear. Oh, I'm gonna hunt that little bitch down” he responds instead. I want to laugh and ask him what the cute laundry bear ever did to him but I could not find it within me to be humorous, “Dean” I plead weakly my voice betraying me with its cracking. That gets his attention.

His eyes snapped up to where I stood, leaning against the doorframe to prevent myself from crumbling to the floor. His face immediately fills with worry, his eyes softening which is ironic considering who’s in the hospital bed. Without looking away from me he turned off the TV, I could tell he was thinking and worrying over something as he stared at me but I could not look at him without new tears falling. “Yeah. All right, well, ‘looks like you're gonna leave town without me” he finally says, my eyes snap back to him but he has already turned his attention to his brother. “What the hell are you talking about?” I step into the room, my sadness mixing too closely with frustration over his stupid declaration. “We are not gonna leave you here” Sam adds in sternly. “Hey, you better take care of that car” he points at Sam, any hint of a joke void from his voice, “Or, I swear, I'll haunt your ass.”

My eyebrows scrunched together, “what's wrong with you?” I accuse, “How are you just accepting this? You are young and have so much life ahead of you” For each word that passed my lips tears followed, my resolve too thin to exist. “You’re meant to grow old, and…and yell at kids to get off your lawn as you work on Baby and maybe other cars with a pet at your side and a lovely home. You’re meant to annoy your brother and me with stupid calls and the same old rock music.” I swallow roughly, ignoring the subtle shock on his face, “It’ll be beautiful and wonderful and we will all be there to watch it happen because you have to live.” My chest heaves, and I’m surprised I have any more tears to give. Life was too cruel before to allow me the opportunity to beg someone to stay as if that feat alone was enough to keep someone alive.

Silence envelopes the room, his eyes are wide and his lips are slightly agape. I don’t believe in God, but I would get on my knees right now and beg and plead and do anything he ever wanted if it meant Dean living. He sighs after what feels like forever, “Look, what can I say, it's a dangerous gig. I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story.” I don’t understand how he could just dwindle his life down to bad luck and a wrong straw. Tears well in my eyes and I have the urge to smack some sense into him. “Don't talk like that, alright? We still have options” Sam insists, his voice breaking slightly. “What options?” Dean asks, “Yeah, burial or cremation?” he pauses for a moment his “joke” not landing, “And I know it's not easy. But I'm gonna die. And you can't stop it.”

It felt like a punch to the gut. How many people will I have to lose until it's enough to feed the glutenous wrath of death? First, it was my mother growing sick and dying, neither my brother nor I was allowed to see her in such a state not even to say goodbye. Then my Dad, who grew reckless in the wake of his only love's death, the coldness about him we had heard about only in stories returning to consume him completely until he drove himself into the ground. I always thought I was most like my mother, but now in the wake of this maybe I am my father's daughter.

I wipe away my tears roughly before clenching my hands, needing my nails to dig into my palms to ground me. “Let me try and heal you,” I say as firmly as my voice will allow. I've never done such a thing on a serious scale, it never got to the point where I felt desperate enough to toe the line of my own morals. But this, for him I would and I would not stay awake at night contemplating my selfishness.

Dean’s POV

Her face was red from crying, and her e/c eyes were filled with deep sadness. She looked shattered, and even so, she was beautiful.

I know I wasn’t being fair to her or Sam. But I always knew I’d die on a hunt, I long accepted it so her big glossy eyes would do nothing to change that fact. Even if it broke her, both of them, which I knew I was already doing. But I also know that sugar-coated truths would only hurt them more, I wasn’t going to allow them to get hopeful not when it would ruin them.

“Please?” she pleads quietly. My resolve breaks, my heart lurches as if it was trying to get closer to her and I didn’t think it had anything to do with the heart attack.

This was for the better, if they saw nothing would work early on they’d hopefully accept my death quicker. Plus I knew she’d stay up every night wondering what more she could have done for me, she’d obsess over it until it broke her all over again. I give her a sharp nod not trusting my voice, her eyes seem to light up a little, and that enough was all the excuse I needed.

She steps closer to my bed, careful not to trip over the wires connecting to me. She got close enough where I could smell her perfume, something sweet and flowery, and undeniably her, I felt warmer just from her closeness. She swallows roughly, “It works better if I can touch you…without the barrier of clothes.” Under any other circumstance I would most likely be flustered by her shy request, I mean this is what I’ve always wanted– to have her. But time was not on my side and I’d never get a chance to tell her, whenever it was I planned on doing so– to do so now with only a week to live would be too cruel. If she didn't like me back I’d die at least knowing and maybe I’d die with a broken heart or whatever crap people complain about. But if she did like me, which Sam insists she does, then a week wouldn't be long enough.

I lift the scratchy hospital shirt, hoping neither saw how much energy the simple action took. She looked nervous as she stared at my bare chest but I could see the hard look of determination in her eyes, she needed this. Carefully she places her hands on the center of my chest, her hands freezing as I suspected they would be but I don't cower from her gentle touch I lean into it further. I bask in it, small sparks igniting where she touched and it had nothing to do with her abilities. She looks up at me, watching my face for any warnings as her own e/c eyes turn to purple and pure warmth extends from her palm seeping into my skin. Maybe I should have been scared, but she was looking at me so gently and she's so beautiful that she must be an angel, and I'm only half the man she deserves.

I suck in a deep breath, clarity hitting me like an arrow, the grogginess and pain I felt melting into a puddle and being replaced with her. It felt like she was cradling my heart, caressing it gently like she would my face, her kindness and love seeping into the vessel, and truthfully I don't ever want it back. She could have my heart. She could have every part of me, and I'd never ask for it back. It's hers. I'm hers. My mouth fell agape, her hair fell onto her face, and I could feel it in my bones. I could feel the tension leave my shoulders and it was like everything I'd been carrying was lifted away. I don't care if she was healing me or not, I want her hands on me, I want to feel her. Just her. She was the sun and I was a fool begging to be closer, even if it burned, even if it was impossible.

Her hands begin to shake violently, but she pushes on, she holds on to me. Her fingers look like they want to curl and dig into my skin and it's clear she's fighting against the instinct, she doesn't want to hurt me not that I would mind any marks she printed into my skin. She lets her head hang, closing her eyes, “Oh fuck” she whines quietly and I have to desperately keep my mind clean. ‘Not the time to have those thoughts or acknowledge how hot that was. I lift a hand pushing her hair out of her face and behind her ear, keeping my hand there to hold her. Again I have to force away any ideas of what noises I could get her to make in a similar position. She looks up at me from her lashes as she bites down on her bottom lip hard, and I wonder how much longer I can keep my mind clean.

Suddenly deep crimson drips down her upper lip, and she begins to shake more. “Wait, wait Y/N” I breathe, looking from her over to Sam with concern. He pulls her off of me, she looks drained and paler than I know I am. She wipes at her nose, the blood has seemingly stopped, but she still shakes and wobbles. Sam pushes her down onto a nearby seat and I pull down my shirt, “How do you feel?” he asks me. “Peachy” I respond, smirking. He rolls his eyes, “I’m being serious. Did it work?”

“I feel better, not as weak” I answer truthfully. She nodded her head, her voice quieter than moments before, “Call for a nurse we should see if anything physically changed.”

“What about you? What was all that?” I ask. She shrugs, “‘Never really done it on a scale like this before, but it takes a lot out of you.”

Your POV

The doctor finally comes back, sifting through the papers on his clipboard, he looks shocked and confused which I hope is for the better because being lightheaded and on the verge of passing out would be worth it. “‘Looks like there has been some improvement, which would explain why you feel better,” he says, the room growing quiet with hope, “The difference is slight but well enough to know it wasn't a fluke” he looks up, “But I’d say it wasn't enough to change the outcome, I’m sorry.” Somehow the second time was worse. Hope was worse. “Thank you, Doctor” Sam replies sadly, and with a nod, the doctor leaves but does not take our sorrow with him.

“I can keep trying. Eventually, it will add up, and the more I do it the longer I’d be able to go” I offer, desperation clear on my tongue that it's almost embarrassing. “We can keep trying that but we should look at other options too” Sam adds. I nod my head vigorously in agreement. “You shouldn't get your hopes up, I’ve already accepted I’m gonna die you should too” Dean responds instead.

“Not happenin’” Sam retorts.

After we used up all our visiting hours we headed to the library, skipping out on eating to research for hours on both supernatural and not– just anything related to heart conditions and healing. I didn't ask why Sam didn't stay with his brother, he was family so he didn't have to follow visitation hours but I also figured he would rather spend his time trying to find a solution. Currently, Sam went the more “normal” route, pulling and printing articles on heart surgeries and other doctor stuff while calling several people. At the same time, I delved into the dark that is the unnatural.

Sam left a while ago, heading back to the motel with all his articles. I insisted on staying behind to “look for more,” in reality, I was going to make a call. The library closed in less than an hour and I already researched several Gods associated with healing, the side of my hand had turned dark with the ink stains. Though it was unsuccessful it was helpful for two reasons; one I at least looked, meaning it was one more thing I could check off, and two it pushed me to make a call I wasn't sure I was ready for.

What I needed was to be home, to look through many books on mythology and witchcraft, there I would find something but that was halfway across the country and each day that passed would be a day wasted. And teleporting books here wouldn't be helpful when there were so many of them and I wasn't sure where I would even begin.

I stare at my phone on the table, this shouldn't be a big deal. I call her all the time, well not as of late which I already got yelled at for. No, none of that mattered. She could lecture me a hundred times or resent me for months. I needed to help Dean. I swiftly pick up my phone, scrolling down to her contact, I don't hesitate to hit “call”, I’ve already hesitated too many times today.

The phone rings three times before she picks up, “Adeline” I start my voice already cracking with emotion. I can almost hear her jump to her feet, “Y/N?! What happened? Where are you? Are you safe? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I did not think I had any more tears left but was proven wrong when another tear slipped down my cheek, “Dean he’s…” I couldn’t say it, couldn't make it more real than it already was. I swallow roughly, trying to cram down my emotions for the time being, I’ve cried enough today, “Dean he’s dying, and I don't know–” a strangled sob leaves my lips and I have to force myself together resting my head on my hand for support, “I don't know what to do” I finished weakly. I hear her suck in a deep breath and it only makes me feel worse, “I-I want help…I need help,” I add, “I tried healing him, the doctor said the effect was minor but I’m gonna keep doing it, even if it takes a lot out of me.”

She exhales, “I’m really sorry Y/N”. I shake my head even though I know she can't see me. I ignored her comment, there was nothing to be sorry for because he was going to be alright, “Do you have any ideas? Maybe I’m doing something wrong or could be doing it better?”

She goes quiet again and it is hard to hold on to hope, “please,” I say quietly hoping she can hear me. She clears her throat, her voice cold and serious, “I’d try some herbal tea, one with healing properties any one of it will help or at least make him more comfortable.” I hum picking up my pen again, writing ‘herbal tea’ on my arm, I didn’t want to risk forgetting.

She sighs again, but it isn’t disappointed or even exhausted, “Don’t…don’t get your hopes up.” I shake my head vigorously again, “I’m not listening to this. I called for help cause you’re the only person I can think of who would know even a wisp of this. I’m desperate for help, not a lecture.” I know I was being cruel, ‘could hear it. She wasn’t trying to hurt me. “No, Y/N please listen. This isn’t an easy task, honestly, I’d like to say it’s impossible but I don’t want you to hang up on me. This doesn't come without great sacrifice.”

“And what if I’m okay with that?” I snap back, “I’m willing to sacrifice.”

“This is different,” she spits a hint of anger on her tongue, “I don’t mean just going against everything you believe in or against your mother's words. I mean making deals with demons, where you could lose your soul or your life or what makes you whole or maybe even worse.” I go quiet. I know she’s right, she always is. But I know my answer, I know what I’m willing to do, “I said I’m willing to make sacrifices.”

“Are you?” she counters. And without hesitation, I answer, “I love him.” I could tell she was getting frustrated with me, for not listening to her warning or taking her seriously even though I was. Of course, I know this is dark and messy territory, but that did not concern me. I can hear her swallow, her voice turning hard again, “What you would need to do would be more than love him.”

“Would it?” I counter.

“Yes,” she replies sternly, “And I won’t help you with that.” It was hard to be mad at her, she was just watching out for me trying to protect me. That was her job after all. But I wanted so desperately for him to be okay, he had to be. “Whether you help me or not, I will do everything in my power to fix this. He won't die.”

“I know you will. That’s what scares me.”

My eyebrows furrow, “I don’t understand.”

“I hope you never will,” she huffs out a breath, “I don’t want you to regret anything.” I couldn't vocalize it, did not even know how to make her understand what I felt–that even if I lost him now if I never saw him again. If I sat on his grave weeping for the man I loved with new flowers in my hand each day and each year. If I never got to hold his hand again. If I never got to see him smile again– that cocky smile. Even if I never got to tell him that I loved him…even then, I would never regret knowing him. Never regret the first time we met and never, never regret loving him. But I don’t say that, instead settling for, “I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

She turns serious once more, determined even, “You won’t. I’m on my way to your place now, I’ll go through your books, and I’ll call you back the second I find something.” She may not agree with my decisions all the time, and might even be upset that we don’t talk as much anymore but at the end of the day we’re best friends–more than that really, “Thank you, Adeline.”

“Of course, now don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” she laughs lightly, “I love you, talk to you later.” I smile for the first time in hours, “I love you too, be safe.”

I let myself into the motel room. Sam doesn’t look up from his place on the bed, papers surround him, some in the garbage which I assume were ones that won't work out. I make my way to the small table in the corner of the room, avoiding looking at where Dean slept the night before. I take out my spellbook, my small journal, and my laptop. My eyes were killing me, most likely from crying so much before.

The next few days would follow a similar pattern, Sam would fall asleep but never for very long before getting coffee and a quick bite to eat before continuing his search. And I spent the nights awake, sleep could not find me at the edge of the void. At some point crumbled pieces of paper surrounded me and I felt like a college student again, I didn't want to do anything but look for an answer. Adeline called once that first night, but it didn't wind up leading anywhere.

The second morning I prepared tea for Dean, arriving at the hospital with the steaming cup and food that wasn't from the hospital. He looked happy to see me and complained about how bored he was there. He looked horrible, and it hurt my chest to see him like that so I just nodded to what he said. He drank the tea with nearly no complaint but instead curiosity, I explained I had boiled Sun water, before making homemade ginger tea adding cinnamon sticks, chamomile, and honey for taste. He asked me to explain to him why I chose each one, though I wasn't sure he truly cared and just wanted to hear me speak since he was relentless with his questions. I healed him again and laid with him when he asked. Then the rest of the while we talked as I did research.

Somehow being there, and watching him worsen was worse than not being there at all. I think I understand now why we weren't allowed to be there when my mom died. I would have rathered someone just stabbed me in the heart over and over then see his eyes grow duller. I healed him again before I was kicked out.

I felt hopeless. I wasn't going to give up but I felt hopeless. It was like I wasn't myself but watching myself go through the motions.

The second night wasn't much better. I slept for a couple of hours only to wake up crying. I didn't try to sleep after that. I prayed to God that night. I hadn't done that in years. I hadn't begged him for mercy since my mother died. I think I was on my knees for hours, the harsh carpet digging into my skin, but that didn’t matter. I barely felt it after a while. I apologized for not praying in years, for only praying when it benefited me which I knew was selfish. I asked for help, and begged for it. I needed him to help Dean. I said I’d do anything he wanted if he did that, even if it meant becoming a nun. I felt incredibly embarrassed begging like that, I didn't even believe in God yet there I was my hands pressed together and the carpet beneath my knees. I cried again that night, for everyone I've lost and how far I would go to save another.

Adeline was wrong, I decided. Sacrifice didn't come with the solution, it came with the search for the answer. Like I said, I didn't feel like myself. I knew I was losing myself each hour that passed and I knew it would only get worse if he did die.

On the third morning, I did the same thing I did the morning before. But after healing him for the first time that morning, I broke in front of him. “I don't want you to go,” I told him, sobbing. He just held me against him even though I knew it hurt him, but he just stroked my head anyway mumbling “I know, I know” into my hair. I could hear his voice breaking with each letter; somehow, that was worse than seeing him act as if he didn't care. Then very quietly he whispered, “I don't know how to comfort someone when I know I’m the source of their pain.”

They did more tests on him. He wasn't getting better, at least not fast enough. It seemed my healing was just halting its progress momentarily, in a sense slowing it down before it continued. I needed to stay on him longer but I wasn’t sure how and ‘could barely make it past 20 minutes before I began to shake so badly and feel so faint like my chest was being pulled open with the sharp nails of cold hands.

I went back to the motel dragging my feet. It had been three days and we had nothing to show for it but failed attempts which I suppose is better than no attempts though it didn’t much feel that way. When I got there I returned to my corner at the table, moving away my mess of “work” with a swipe of my arm. I crumble into the wooden chair, laying my forehead on the edge of the table, I didn’t know what to do. I’d keep looking no matter what, that would not change. I would search through every book on every myth, god, folklore, anything. I’d do whatever it took, I just hoped time would not beat us to the finish line.

With a huff, I pulled my latest book from the library closer to me, a book on Greek Gods. I pick up where I left off in the thick book on the God of healing and medicine Asclepius. I read the passage about him, and it seemed promising, “He was considered a symbol of medical knowledge, skill, and wisdom. Known for his ability to heal the sick and revive the dead, Asclepius played an essential role in Greek religious and medical traditions…He was known for his exceptional skill in diagnosing diseases and treating wounds. His abilities were so profound that he could even bring the dead back to life, a talent that eventually led to his downfall…The Asclepieia, healing temples dedicated to the god, were spread throughout Greece and were renowned centers of medical practice. Pilgrims would travel great distances to seek healing, engaging in purification rituals, sacrifices, and dream incubation, where they would sleep in the temple and receive divine guidance through dreams.”

The rest of the chapter contains no more info on the healing aspect but just more of his legacy and whatnot. I close the book sharply, pulling open my laptop to do more research on him. Maybe a temple still existed, and considering Pilgrims there might even be one in America somewhere. Just as I type the temple name into Google a knock sounds from the door.

For a moment I think Sam forgot his keys, but when I turned to where he always was he was there. He looks at me confused and I shrug my shoulders, “Maybe it’s room service?” He answers by going to the door and opening it curiously. I watch from my seat, tilting my chair back to get a better look. But it is not room service, or someone knocking at the wrong door, it’s Dean. I almost fall backward, my chair slams forward back on all four legs I shoot up from my seat.

He leans on the doorframe, holding his side. He still has dark circles under his eyes and just looks sickly which is only accentuated by the black zip-up he wore, which was odd for him he never really wore sweaters. “What the hell are you doing here?” Sam exclaims his voice a mix of surprise and confusion. Dean limps his way just a little bit further into the room, leaning on a dresser next to the door, “I checked myself out,” he responds placing all his weight on the thing. I didn't even know a sick patient could check themselves out like that. “What, are you crazy?” Sam exclaims.

Dean shrugs, “Well, I’m not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren’t even hot.” He turns his head to wink at me and gives me that devilish smile. My jaw dropped, baffled wasn't even the word to explain it. This had to be the most Dean Winchester thing Dean could have ever done, I could not fathom it. I wanted to call him an idiot but I was too shocked to give any response. Sam huffs a laugh as he shuts the door, “You know, this whole I-laugh-in-the-face-of-danger-thing? It’s crap. I can see right through it, we both can.”

Dean moves himself further into the room leaning on anything he could, “Yeah, whatever, dude. Have either of you even slept? You look worse than me.” Sam helps him to the bed, sitting him down, “We’ve been scouring the Internet for the last three days.”

I sit back in my chair, scooting it so I can face them both, “I don't know how either of our laptops survived this. Late at night, I think I can hear it cry.”

Dean purses his lips, “Lack of sleep has made you crazy.” It was my turn to huff a laugh, and for that fraction of a second everything felt normal. But that moment of normalcy breaks as Sam adds, “I’ve also called every contact in Dad’s journal.” I was brought right back to the present, back to the reason we were doing all of this to begin with. “For what?” Dean asks.

“For a way to help you,” Sam explains, “One of Dad’s friends, Joshua, he called me back. Told me about a guy in Nebraska. A specialist.”

“Wait, why didn't you tell me sooner?” I ask.

“He called back when you were with Dean,” he answers, “I was going to tell you when you came back but didn't get the chance before he decided to break out.” I hum an ‘oh’ in response. “You’re not gonna let me die in peace, are you?” Dean chimes in, hunched over.

“I’m not gonna let you die, period. We’re going” Sam says, end of discussion.

The Impala bumps along the gravel road, I was beyond happy we finally arrived. The sky was cloudy and grey with a thin layer of mist clinging to everything, it reflected the past couple of days and the ride quite perfectly. Dean rested in the back seat the entire time, his face scrunched in discomfort, we stopped a couple of times so I could jump back there and heal him for a short while.

The car comes to a full stop among others in a large green field, a large white circus tent stealing the show. A sign nearby reads The Church of Roy LeGrange. Faith Healer. Witness The Miracle. I was skeptical, but like Sam said our options were low. I wasn’t religious and certainly hated when things like this existed, giving people false hope and feeding them lies, when they could be looking at real options and getting real help but I guess I was being a hypocrite considering how I spent my time kneeling to a God I didn't believe in. Many people walked towards it, all sick, some with canes, walkers, breathing devices, etc. I get out of the car slowly, eyeing the scene carefully. We’re all just desperate people, hoping a tent in the middle of nowhere will save our loved ones.

Sam gets out of the car, rounding the vehicle to help his brother get out of the car. Dean grimaces as he tries to lift himself, “I got ya” Sam tells him trying to grab him but Dean shoves him away, “I got it” he spits. He fixes himself, pissed off, but uses the car to hold himself up leaning on it, “Man, you are a lying bastard. ‘Thought you said we were going to see a doctor.”

“I believe I said a specialist” Sam corrects. I squint my eyes at him, “You’re not slick. But…” I say stretching out the word, “We should try, at the very least.”

“And this guy is supposed to be the real deal” Sam adds, nodding. Dean scuffs, rolling his eyes, “I can’t believe you brought me here to see some guy who heals people out of a tent.”

An old woman walks by holding a big black umbrella, “Reverend LeGrange is a great man” she declares. “Yeah, that’s nice” Dean sarcastically remarks. I hold back on batting his arm as I would normally, “Be nice” I mumble instead.

We walk away from the old lady and the car heading toward the tent, walking past an angry man who is struggling against an officers hold, “I have a right to protest. This man is a fraud. And he’s milking all these people of their hard-earned money.” I suck in a sharp breath, mumbling an “Amen, brother” underneath my breath. But the Sheriff seems to ignore the man's declaration, holding him back while trying to lead him away, “Sir, this is a place of worship. Let’s go. Move it.” The man huffs, walking away with the Sheriff. “I take it he’s not part of the flock” Dean remarks.

Sam purses his lips, half shrugging, “When people see something they can’t explain, there’s controversy.”

Dean stops short, getting our attention and making us stop too, “I mean, come on, Sam, a faith healer? And what about you Y/N you don’t believe in this crap.”

I hold up my hands in surrender, “You're right. I don’t. And I think making a whole religion out of it that smells more like a cult than anything, it’s ridiculous. But there’s a good chance this is legit,” I drop my hands back at my side, “He’s probably using magic like I was doing with you, it's just that he's, hopefully, more successful.” He pressed his lips together tightly, I got him there. “See, maybe it’s time to have a little faith, Dean,” Sam adds.

“You know what I’ve got faith in?” Dean exclaims, “Reality. And this won’t work. I mean do you really think this guy is a dude-witch.”

I purse my lips, “I’m pretty sure the term would be a wizard, but, uh, I don't know. I’d have to see it in action to know for certain along with anything around him while he works, rituals and stuff.” I pause for a moment, thinking it over, “I do hope he’s real and not an elaborate con artist, and I hope he’s better than me at the whole healing thing.” I was being blatantly honest. I hoped it would encourage Dean to not fight this version of help, and I truly did wish this guy could help. “And if you know evil’s out there, how can you not believe good’s out there, too?” Sam chimes in, a hint of annoyance on his tongue. A muscle in Dean’s jaw twitches, “Because I’ve seen what evil does to good people.”

Dean’s POV

I snapped in a moment of weakness and said too much. “Dean” she sighs, placing a gentle hand on my upper arm, stepping closer to me almost subconsciously. I didn’t want a lecture full of sappy nonsense and corny poetry. She must have known that because she smiled sadly, her lip curving up on one side, my eyes following the movement, “Good does exist, it has to,” she says simply ever the optimist. She tilts her head slightly, looking up at me through her curled eyelashes, her hand still on my arm, my knees feel weak. “I'm sure you can think of at least one good person. Of course, the terms good and evil are subjective…” she cuts her cute rambling off, “but you get what I mean.”

I guess she was right. Sammy’s a good person sometimes a total asshole but I guess that came with the territory of being brothers. And Y/N’s the definition of being a good person, she’s always been kind even to people who didn't deserve it, including me. I remember a couple of times I was cruel to her when we were kids, always about her being a witch, yet for some reason she accepted my apology and even wanted to keep being friends. For a long time, I didn’t understand her, ‘how she could be sweet and smile at a world filled with darkness. Sometimes I think I still don't get her. “Please just give it a try,” she pleads, “And if it doesn't work or turns out to be a con you can make fun of us the whole way back.”

I studied her again, she looked drained and I knew she hadn't been sleeping all because of me. “Fine” I huff. She bites back a smile and suddenly complying with this stupid faith healer was worth it.

“And who knows, maybe God works in mysterious ways” an unfamiliar voice butts in. I didn't care to look who it was, solely focused on the girl who still had her hand on me; a smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes, one I hadn't seen in three days. “Maybe he does” I respond, half heartily, I look up briefly catching the eyes of an attractive blonde holding a black umbrella. I averted my eyes back to my girl, but she was already looking away at the woman who interrupted us, her hand slipped down my arm.

“Uh, hi. I’m Y/N” she introduces herself, holding out the hand that was touching me only moments ago. She accepts her hand, “Layla. And these two?” Layla says looking past her. “Sam,” he introduces himself before motioning to me, “Dean.” I give her a tightlipped smile in response.

She smiles at me, “So, if you’re not a believer, then why are you here?” She was attractive, you’d have to be blind not to see it but my interest is elsewhere. I can't fool myself into thinking that'll work out. Hell, I'm probably gonna end up dead. And yeah, it's harsh, but I can't shake the feeling that I'd rather spend what time I've got with Y/N, not waste it chasing after other girls just to fill the gap she left without even knowing it. I’m self-aware enough to know that. “Well, apparently my brother here believes enough for the both of us” I muse. An older woman with blondish-gray hair walks over, putting an arm around the girl, “Come on, Layla. It’s about to start.” Both women smile at us before walking away.

“Well, you heard the woman,” Y/N starts, “We should get you inside.” Sam nods leading the way.

Your POV

The tent is packed, full of people trying to find seats, it smells of hope and despair if that’s possible. “Yeah, peace, love, and trust all over,” Dean remarks, nodding over to a camera in the corner. Did churches have cameras? “I guess it makes sense,” I try to reason, “‘probably get more people like that dude outside protesting, maybe even getting violent.”

Dean slips away sitting down on one of the foldable chairs. “Hey no,” I point at him, “You are not gonna be all brooding and hide in the back.” His shoulders slump, “Let’s sit here.”

“No” I answer simply, eyebrows scrunched. He opens his mouth in a retort but his brother steps in, putting an arm around him and practically dragging him from the seat and towards the front, “Oh, come, on, Sam” Dean growls. Mistaking his anger for pain Sam halts in his movements, “You alright?”

“This is ridiculous” Dean bites, slapping his brother’s hands away, “I’m good, dude, get off of me.” I roll my eyes at their behavior, even in public, and even with one of them being severely sick they could still act childish and make a scene. I look around the closer rows, looking for seats, “Look at that” I smile turning back to the boys, “seats” I point to three empty seats not only close to the front but right behind Layla, the girl from before. She seemed nice, maybe a little strange in randomly joining the conversation but it wasn’t a big deal. “Perfect” Sam agrees, lightly shoving his brother in that direction. “Yeah, perfect” Dean remarks, sarcasm clear in his voice.

“Take the aisle,” Sam tells his brother before moving into the row of seats, I move in after him taking the seat between them. Dean grumbles something, his face having ‘irritable’ all over it, but he sits quietly, arms crossed.

An old man with white hair and sunglasses steps onto the stage with the help of an older woman with brown hair tied back. He must be the famous Roy LeGrange, “Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann, reads me the news. Never seems good, does it?” he says with a classic southern accent, the crowd muttering agreements, “Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act.”

“He could say that aga–'' I began to mumble. “Huh” I hum to myself, my eyes catching on a particular religious item, why would there be a Celtic cross? I mean the cross represented the blending of the Celts and Christians but there are many separations between the two from believing in multiple gods to human sacrifice–

“But, I say to you, God is watching,” he preaches, and if I wasn't so focused on that wooden cross I might have rolled my eyes forgetting my manners, especially when the crowd responded with “Yes he is.” It sounded very cultish, the hair on my arms standing up. Maybe it wasn’t that weird for there to be a Celtic cross, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling. I racked my brain for information on it, and I just couldn’t see it used in Christian churches anymore. Though of course, I could be wrong, it's not like I go to church every day or even once a week. But again it felt a little too weird to just brush off–

“God rewards the good, and He punishes the corrupt” Roy continued getting loud cheering and more murmuring. I look at the people around me strangely, I forget how powerful religion is…

Speaking of which, that damn Celtic cross again. Alright, think. The Celtic cross represents life and death, creating dynamic tension, the vertical arm represents the life aspect while the horizontal arm signifies death, the circle acting as a portal to transformation. In simpler terms, the cross and circle represent opposing forces; life and death, yet they harmonize with the Celtic cross, emphasizing unity and balance, they coexist. But what does that mean here? Okay, well he’s supposedly healing people which would be the life aspect and the death could represent the healing cheating death? No, that sounded like a stretch. Maybe this was all a stretch and the cross meant nothing. I’m just overreacting because I'm scared of what will become of this if this man was a con or whatever else. Yeah, that makes more sense—

“It is the Lord who does the healing here, friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts,” Roy proclaimed.

“Yeah,” Dean whispers just loud enough for Sam and me to hear, “and into their wallets.” But it wasn’t quiet enough, “You think so, young man?” Oh, that was weird. The crowd falls dead silent, “Sorry” Dean apologizes. “No, no. Don’t be.” Roy shakes his head, “Just watch what you say around a blind man, we’ve got real sharp ears.” The crowd laughs but an unpleasant feeling worms itself into my stomach. It was innocent enough but something felt off and I don't think it has anything to do with Dean being scrutinized. “What’s your name, son?” Roy asks. He clears his throat, sitting straighter in his seat, “Dean.”

“Dean” Roy repeats nodding to himself, “I want…I want you to come up here with me.” My eyes widened, maybe God finally listened. “No, it’s okay” he shakes his head. “What are you doing?!” Sam whisper-yells, but his brother ignores him.

“You’ve come here to be healed, haven’t cha?” Roy inquires.

“Well, yeah, but, uh…maybe you should just pick someone else” Dean attempts to reason. And I hate the way he doesn't believe he is worthy of saving. The crowd claps loudly, “Oh, no. I didn’t pick you, Dean, the Lord did.” Had we been here for any other reason I might have been more disturbed by that proclamation, but this was a chance. The crowd roars in excitement, voices mixed in encouragement. Dean looks overwhelmed, I place a hand on his knee gaining his attention quickly, “Dean, this is good, go” I whisper to him even though I was unsure of this whole thing and that odd cross. He studies me for half a moment, something I couldn't recognize passing over his features before he reluctantly raises, my hand slipping from his leg.

The woman from before helps Dean to the stage, situating him next to the healer, “You ready?” he asks Dean. “Look, no disrespect, but, uh, I’m not exactly a believer,” Dean says, looking between the crowd and the old man. But Roy just smiles, “You will be, son. You will be,” he turns to the crowd arms raised, “Pray with me, friends.” Again, almost like a cult, the crowd joins hands as Roy moves his hands to place on Dean; one on his shoulder and the other to the side of his head. I hold my breath, I want this to work so badly, I hadn't even begun to think of a plan B if this didn't.

Suddenly Dean’s eyes glaze over, it was never like that when I healed him, and then he seems to wobble sinking to his knees. I gasped, I didn't think it would be so intense or that my heart would beat so fast. A deep chill runs up my spine seeping into my bones, my skin prickles with goosebumps, the Celtic cross comes into view again and I suddenly feel sick, a horrible feeling tangling itself in between my stomach. I don't know where to look the cross or Dean, my eyes flipping between the two rapidly all until Dean's eyes roll back and he crumbles down onto the stage floor. Sam manages to jump over me, using his long legs to his advantage he gets to the stage in seconds grabbing the front of Dean's hoodie. I catch up quickly, glad we were close to the stage, I kneel in front of Dean his head lulling back. The loud noise of the crowd cheering becomes nothing but background noise, as I check his pulse my fingers against the side of his neck the steady but fast beating of his heart thumping below my touch.

With a sudden gasp his eyes shoot open, eyes wide and mouth agape.

I tap my foot impatiently on the clean floors of the hospital, thankful that right after testing I was allowed to be in the room. Dean looked better, he moved normally and his color was back, but we all agreed we should check officially. Now we were waiting and although the room sparked with anxiety, the dark looming cloud had cleared up a lot, and once we knew for sure it would most likely be gone. I just wished the doctor would come quicker. “So, you really feel okay?” Sam asks for the hundredth time since Dean woke from being healed yesterday. Dean stares at him blankly, “I feel fine, Sam” he grumbles.

Finally, the Doctor walks in, reading from the charts on his clipboard, “Well, according to all your tests there's nothing wrong with your heart. No sign there ever was. Not that a man your age should be having heart trouble, but, still strange things happen.” The cloud fades away, and I don’t hold back my beaming smile. “What do you mean, strange?” Dean asks, his face serious rather than elated. “Well, just yesterday, a young guy like you, twenty-seven, athletic. Out of nowhere, heart attack,” the doctor shares. Dean nods, giving the man a handshake, “Thanks, Doc.” The man leaves, closing the door behind him. “That’s odd,” Dean points out, referring to what the doctor said.

“Maybe it's a coincidence,” Sam shrugs, “People's hearts give out all the time, man.” I looked at him taken aback, what was he talking about, “Dude, what world are you living in?” He gives me a pointed look, annoyed with not only my response but also my not agreeing with him, “Do we really have to look this one in the mouth? Why can't we just be thankful that the guy saved your life, Dean, and move on?”

“Because I can't shake this feeling, that's why” Dean bites back. I sigh, wishing we could just avoid this all, “Me neither.” Dean gives me a strange look, “You neither?”

“Yeah,” I nod, “I just, I don’t know, when we sat down I recognized something which automatically made me suspicious. Then you know the whole thing was happening and, well, maybe it was just nerves but it got really cold and I felt sort of sick. Which really doesn't make sense, but I just had this weird feeling, I don’t know.”

“I felt cold too,” Dean answers, face scrunched, “When I was healed, I just...I felt wrong, ‘cold. And for a second...I saw someone. This, uh, this old man. And I'm telling you, it was a spirit.” Maybe it wasn’t nerves and I wasn’t crazy. Sam huffs, clearly trying to ignore the red flags here, “But if there was something there, Dean, I think I would've seen it, too. I mean, I've been seeing an awful lot of things lately.”

“Alright, but he literally saw something and I felt something.” I reason, “You can’t deny two people saying something’s up, and whatever it was there’s probably a reason why you couldn’t see it.”

“You’re just gonna need a little faith on this one, Sam” Dean muses, using his own words against him. Sam sighs, finally giving in, “Yeah, alright. So, what do you wanna do?”

Dean steps into the leader role again, as if nothing had happened, “I want you to go check out the heart attack guy. Y/N, we’re gonna visit the reverend.”

I sit next to Dean on the nice leather couch, Roy sitting across from us. He and his wife had been very understanding and didn’t question our want to speak to him about yesterday, I figure he got this a lot. “I feel great,” Dean answers the reverend, “Just trying to, you know, make sense of what happened.”

“A miracle is what happened,” Sue Ann, Roy’s wife and the woman from before answered, “Well, miracles come so often around Roy.” I gave her a half-hearted smile and nod, maybe it was just me but that response came off a little weird. I was getting a bad vibe from her, “So, um, when did these miracles start?” I ask Roy. Any desire to possibly learn from him had been subdued, caution taking its place. “Woke up one morning, stone blind. Doctors figured out I had cancer. Told me I had maybe a month. So, uh, we prayed for a miracle. I was weak, but I told Sue Ann, 'You just keep right on praying.'” He smiled sweetly at his wife before continuing, “I went into a coma. Doctors said I wouldn't wake up, but I did. And the cancer was gone.” He takes off his black sunglasses, his eyes pure white, “If it wasn't for these eyes, no one would believe I'd ever had it.” He puts the glasses back on, it was a touching story and his eyes added a horrifying touch but it just left more questions.

He seemed genuine, and I don’t think he would lie about being in a coma. When you’re sick like that, and experience something like that, you don’t create lies about your experience, not when it was traumatic like that. And staying on that belief, there was no way he suddenly just stopped having cancer and was able to heal people. He couldn’t have been responsible for whatever caused his initial health change. Which would then mean someone else was involved. “So then, you could just…heal people?” I ask.

“I discovered it afterward, yes,” he nods, "God's blessed me in many ways.” It didn’t add up. I couldn’t get it to add up in my head. Besides the whole no more sickness ideal, how could he just suddenly heal someone? I mean, how do you even discover you can? Was it an accident? Did the hypothetical person who might have caused him to get better tell him too? Or, tell him to try? Whereas for me I knew it was something I was capable of in general as a witch, but I also had many spell books, history books, journals, and everything to learn from. And if my mother had lived longer she would have been able to teach me it too.

“And his flock just swelled overnight,” Sue Ann added, her eyes full of endearment, “And this is just the beginning.” I study her for a moment, balancing on the thin line of suspicion and paranoia. There was nothing inherently wrong about her or what she said, and maybe it was my mind making up the fact that her last words were just a little aggressive.

“Can I ask you one last question?” Dean asks, his voice pulling me out of my thoughts. “Of course you can,” Roy responded sincerely. He really does seem like a nice guy, genuine, and it could be my inherent lack of sleep that’s making me connect dots that might not even be there. “Why? Why me? Out of all the sick people, why save me?” My heart broke. Of course he didn’t feel adequate, especially when he tried convincing us for the last four days he wasn't worth saving, that we should give up and let him die. I place a careful hand on his knee, I don’t want to scare him away or clam up again, he never was very open. “Well, like I said before, the Lord guides me,” Roy answers, “I looked into your heart, and you just stood out from all the rest.”

Dean wets his lips, my eyes flickering up to the movement, he leans forward slightly, “What did you see in my heart?” I move my gaze away catching on Sue Ann’s innocent movement of picking up her glass of water, but as she leans over her necklace escapes from its place beneath her shirt. A small wooden Celtic Cross held by a thin silver chain, she catches my eyes, covering the cross with her hand and giving me an innocent smile. She assumes I would think it's just any ol’ cross, she does run religious ceremonies so such a simple totem shouldn’t mean anything else. Maybe there were dots to connect after all, and it was on full display ready to be fastened. I focused my attention back on the conversation, I left my bag in the car so I’d have to wait, and in the meanwhile, I did not wish for her to get suspicious of me either.

Roy smiles softly, “A young man with an important purpose. A job to do. And it isn't finished.” I feel Dean tense beneath my hand, his face full of shock. Whether Roy did see something or not, it might have been the thing Dean needed to hear regardless.

I wanted to run back to the car and look through my spell book and journal, but Sue Ann was seeing us out and if I had easily become suspicious of her then it was possible she would grow suspicious of what I knew too. I could almost feel her gaze burning into the back of my head, but I tried to ignore it, focusing instead on Dean's warm hand on the small of my back leading me down the short wooden stairs of their porch. But I had not expected to see Layla and the woman she was with before, I think her mother. “Dean, Y/N, hey,” she greets. “Hey,” Dean responds just as we reach ground level, his hand pressing further into my back before curling around my waist, his hand lying on my side before he pushes me closer against him. I don’t know why he was being so touchy, not that I was exactly complaining. I welcomed it and the warmth it brought.

“How ‘you feeling?” She asks him, tilting her head slightly, her face beaming in sincerity. “I feel good. Cured, I guess. What are you doing here?” he responds.

“You know, my mom, she wanted to talk to the reverend.” Layla nods toward the door prompting Sue Ann to step fully onto the porch rather than standing halfway between the screen door. “Layla?” she asks, probably not having seen her from where she stood. “Yes, I'm here again,” Layla answers softly.

“Well, I'm sorry, but Roy is resting. He won't be seeing anyone else right now.” Sue Ann informed, nodding sympathetically. Every word she said just made me want to turn around and head to the car, I was itching for it. I wondered if Dean could feel it from where he was touching me or just sensed it, giving me a questioning look with a raised eyebrow. But I couldn’t exactly say anything right now so I ignored his look.

“Sue Ann, please,” Layla’s mom pleads, “This is our sixth time, he's got to see us.”

“Roy is well aware of Layla's situation,” Sue Ann declares harshly, “And he very much wants to help just as soon as the Lord allows. Have faith, Mrs. Rourke.” And with that, she goes back inside. I might not know exactly what’s going on but her continuous frustrated comments regarding the healing and her perhaps overly religious nature were enough to make me antsy. We should really go to the car, call Sam to see what he found, or even just head to the hotel. Layla’s mom turns sharply to Dean, glaring at him she spits, “Why are you still even here? You got what you wanted.”

“Mom. Stop” Layla insists, looking at us nervously.

“No, Layla, this is too much” her mom fumed, “We've been to every single service. If Roy would stop choosing these strangers over you. Strangers who don't even believe. I just can't pray any harder.” I do feel bad for her, but it's not like we had control over any of this so she shouldn't be mad at us let alone Dean who was quite literally on his deathbed and might not have made it to the end of the week. I open my mouth to say exactly that, but Dean cuts me off before I get a chance, “Layla, what’s wrong?” he asks.

She looks everywhere but him, “I have this thing…”

“It's a brain tumor,” her mother cuts in bluntly, “It's inoperable. In six months, the doctors say…” Layla cuts her mom off putting a hand on her shoulder. Maybe it was good Dean didn’t let me say what I wanted to, it would’ve been too cruel to do that to someone who was going to lose her daughter. It seemed like we were surrounded by death, more now than ever and I hadn’t thought that could be possible. I didn’t like death, or sickness though I suppose who does. “I'm sorry” Dean says, and I just nod in agreement not trusting my own voice. “It's okay” Layla responds softly. Her mother shakes her head slowly, “No. It isn't,” her sharp gaze is back on Dean, “Why do you deserve to live more than my daughter?” Then she storms away, Layla hesitantly following. I know that woman was just upset and projecting her anger but it was not fair. Grief isn’t fair.

I look at Dean, his jaw clenched tightly, a slight furrow of his brow, his eyes a little far away in thought. I recognized that look. “Don’t listen to her” I declare, slipping from his hold to look at him straight on, “Death is not kind and it is not just, but you deserve to live. You deserve to live just as much as Layla or anyone else does. I know that look and I know you're thinking poorly of yourself, which I hate that you do so ‘cause you’re amazing and brave and kind and you care so much for others regardless of your gruff attitude.” His eyes are wide and written with shock but I continue, “So don’t think for one second that you don’t deserve to live.” I didn’t realize my chest was heaving, or that a lump had formed in my throat. I’ve watched too many people die, I’ve been down the rabbit hole of grief. I knew it well, it became a second skin. And I've watched someone run themselves into the ground because they didn’t feel like they deserved to live, or at least not when the love of their life was dead. I watched the evolution of that grief while dealing with my own and my brother’s. Death was not kind.

His jaw was slack with surprise and I know I said too much, I gave him a sharp awkward nod before turning around and heading for the car. I have something to look into.

Dean throws his keys on the bed the second we enter, the soft jingle of the metal ringing through the quiet room. I unzipped my sweatshirt, making my way towards Sam who sat at the small table to the side of the room. I take a seat next to him, putting my sweater behind me, “So what’d you find?” He seems hesitant to answer, his adam's apple bobbing, “Um, I’m sorry Dean” he says weakly looking up at his brother.

Dean takes his jacket off putting it on top of mine, his face written in confusion, “Sorry about what?” he asks, leaning on the back of my chair, his knuckles just barely brushing my back. Sam huffs out a breath, “Marshall Hall died at 4:17.” My eyes widened, I shouldn’t be surprised it was just another dot to be connected to whatever was going on with the damn cross. “The exact time I was healed” Dean adds solemnly, voicing what we were all thinking.

“Yeah. So, I put together a list of everyone Roy's healed, six people over the past year, and I cross-checked them with the local obits,” Sam explains, “Every time someone was healed, someone else died. And each time, the victim died of the same symptom LeGrange was healing at the time.”

“Oh frick” I mumble, apparently nothing is allowed to be easy for us. And I wasn’t exactly expecting that to be what we’re dealing with. “Someone's healed of cancer, someone else dies of cancer?” Dean asks for confirmation, even though it’s clear that’s what’s going on. “Somehow. LeGrange…” Sam sighs, “he's trading a life for another.”

Dean stands up straight backing away from the table, from Sam, “Wait, wait, wait. So, Marshall Hall died to save me?” Sam shakes his head, “Dean, the guy probably would've died anyway. And someone else would've been healed.”

“You never should've brought me here.” Dean declares, running a hand down his face.

“Dean, I was just trying to save your life.” Sam reasons.

“But, Sam, some guy is dead now because of me.”

“I didn't know,” Sam answers quietly.

I stand up abruptly, “Hey, there’s nothing we can do about that now. What’s done is done.” This all got very complicated very quickly, maybe Adeline was right you can’t save someone from death without making difficult decisions and sacrifices. “But what we can do is stop this from happening again, before it gets worse” I add and I know I don’t sound so convincing. You don’t get to choose who lives and who dies, and we had crossed that line whether intentionally or not, just wanting to save Dean from death was already putting a foot past that line. “That’s the thing I don't understand, how is Roy doing it? How's he trading a life for a life?” Sam questions. “Oh, he’s not doing it,” Dean answers, “Something else is doing it for him.”

“Do you mean the thing with Sue Ann?” I ask with a tilt of my head, maybe he had picked up on it too. “What?” his face contorts in confusion, “No? What are you talking about?”

“Oh” I say, now I'm confused, “Wait. What are you talking about?”

“What are both of you talking about?!” Sam exclaims looking between us. Dean sighs, pinching the space between his brows, “The old man I saw on stage” he explains, “I didn’t want to believe it, but deep down I knew.” He pauses and I begin to wonder if it’s for dramatic affect. I motion my hand for him to continue and he does, “There’s only one thing that can give and take life like that. We’re dealing with a Reaper.”

“Pardon?” I say, my mouth agape. “Yeah,” Sam agrees, face just as shocked as I am, “You really think it's THE Grim Reaper? Like, angel of death, collect your soul, the whole deal?”

“No no no, not THE reaper, A reaper.” Dean clarifies, taking the seat I once occupied, “There's reaper law in pretty much every culture on earth, it goes by 100 different names, it's possible that there's more than one of them.” My mouth still hangs open, it can never be something normal with us, ever. “But you said you saw a dude in a suit,” Sam voiced.

“What, you think he shoulda been working the whole black robe thing?” Dean countered, “You said it yourself that the clock stopped right? Reapers stop time. And you can only see 'em when they're coming at you which is why I could see it and you guys couldn't.”

“Oh my god,” I say, the realization finally hitting me, “That’s where it comes in!” Both boys stare at me confused, “Where what comes in?” Sam asks.

“Okay, remember I said I recognized something and thought it was a little strange,” I paused waiting for them to nod before continuing, “It was a Celtic Cross, which was all I could focus on the entire time ‘cause like what is it doing there. And then I started thinking of what it symbolizes, here’s the interesting part” I point out, “So basically, the Celtic cross represents life and death, creating dynamic tension. The cross and circle represent opposing forces; life and death, yet they harmonize with the cross, emphasizing unity and balance, they coexist. Which now makes total sense with the whole Reaper thing.”

“Sorry sweetheart, I’m not following here” Dean admits. I huff a laugh, “Right. Let me get to the point. So, as far as I know someone has to control the Reaper to, you know, dictate who lives and dies and to do that you need a spell. And I’ve seen it before…” I head over to my bag that I had just plopped down right next to the door when we walked in, I pull out my spell book holding it up, “This book has been in my family for generations. Now as you know my mother and her family didn’t see eye to eye, so when it eventually became my mothers and she ran away she changed a lot of stuff in here, crossing things out etc.” I open the book, flicking through the pages, “Basically there’s some pretty dark stuff in here, straight up black magic, some stuff even ancient,” finally I find the page, “Aha!” I turn the book around pointing at the page, “As you can see by the frowny face in the corner my mother did not appreciate this spell. Anyways, this is a binding spell for a Reaper where you create a black alter with bones and human blood etc, you get the point. You can then control it with a Celtic Cross, and before I saw Sue Ann with the necklace.”

“So you think Sue Ann is using dark magic to control a Reaper and kill people to save people because you saw a necklace?” Sam asks. I close the book, “Yeah, and it makes sense she was desperate when her husband was sick. I don’t know how I didn’t think of this sooner.” I knew this page existed, I've seen it in passing multiple times, especially some time since Dean was in the hospital. I guess I did listen to Adeline’s warning because even though I was ready to go far to save him I had kept away from pages like this. “Yeah but Roy's alive, so why is she still using the spell?” Dean points out. I shrug, “Money? She’s psycho? I don’t know, maybe there’s a connection with the victims.”

“How would we break it?” Sam voices.

“We gotta get that cross from her, the one around her neck” I answer, “And let me just add, that Reaper is gonna be pissed, I mean the second it gains back its control…” I don’t need to say it out loud for them to get what I mean.

The Impala bounces down the badly graveled and potholed road, passing a sign that says Service Today. Hopefully we will be just in time. Dean brings the car to a stop and wordlessly we exit, “How do we get Sue Ann alone?” Sam asks. I nervously tap the side of my legs as we approach the tent, some guy handing out leaflets stops us, “Roy LeGrange is a fraud. He's no healer.” Dean accepts the paper, “Amen brother” he nods. “You keep up the good work” Sam points at the man and he looks taken aback, he probably didn’t get many if any people that agreed. “Thank you,” he says, surprised.

Focusing back on the task at hand I open my mouth about to say something about not knowing where she goes when she does the spell when I spot her near the side of the tent, “I see her” I say already moving in that direction, “Find her spell book and keep Roy distracted too in case this does not work.” I don’t wait to hear a response before I’m running off to catch up with the woman playing God, “Sue Ann!” I call as I approach. She turns, her eyes wide, the necklace peeking out from her blouse, “Hi Y/N, what are you doing back here?” she asks sweetly.

“Oh well you guys are doing such amazing stuff here, wanted to say thank you one last time before we had to head off” I answered hoping my lie was believable. “Don’t thank us, you just thank the Lord” She says pointing to the night sky. I nod, I had to keep her talking long enough to figure out how to get the necklace off, “I have to admit I always had a hard time believing in the man upstairs, but you and Roy really turned me around.”

“Oh I’m glad, it’s never too late to welcome Him into your heart,” she smiles, “Now if you’ll excuse me I must get going, the sermon is starting.” Uh oh, do I just rip it off of her? No, she’s already turning around, “One last thing!” I call out getting her attention again. This time when she turns around she looks annoyed, “Uh, um…”come on Y/N come up with a lie or something, “I saw your necklace earlier today, I think you caught me staring,” I laugh, “I was just…I was wondering where you got it from I’ve never seen something like that before.” She clasps her necklace, “It’s just an old thing, I don’t remember where I got it from.”

“Could I maybe take a closer look at it? Maybe I can find a replica, you know, for my new found belief.” I was practically begging her to just let this be easy, maybe I should ask Dean to give me a lesson on finessing cause this is not working. She clasps it tighter, “I’m sorry, maybe later I really have to help with the sermon now.”

“Right, right sorry” she begins to turn around again but I call out again, “I know you said to thank the Lord and I have and will, it’s just” that gets her attention, “I feel like you and Roy are also responsible and like I said I came to thank you again…I know it’s maybe unprofessional or what not, but, could I just give you a hug? You’ve really done so much for us.” God I was bad at this. Her face softens a fraction, hey maybe I wasn’t bad at this, “Of course.” She holds out her arms and I move closer to allow myself to be embraced, I wrap my arms near her neck hoping she couldn’t feel the tension in my body. “Thank you” I say softly, all the while sneaking my hand to the clasp of her necklace.

She pulls away abruptly, once more grasping her necklace, “What is wrong with you!” she exclaims. I back up, hands up in defense, “After everything we’ve done to help you, healing your boy” she glares at me with wide eyes, “I never expected this from you Y/N.” I stare at her blankly, do I jump her? “You get out of here, before I call over those officers. Looks like your boy is already in trouble too. Disappointing, both of you.”

I look over my shoulder, Dean’s being pushed away by two cops and there’s a large crowd surrounding the tent including Roy. Maybe they evacuated. I turn back to Sue Ann but she’s already pushing past me, heading to the crowd. Oh no. Layla walks up to him next and she seems to be upset with him. How much did I miss? I rush towards Dean, Layla walking away, “What did you do?” I whisper yell. “You said to distract Roy!” he argues.

“I didn’t mean to get in trouble with the police!”

“‘Don’t matter, did you get it?” Dean asks with a quirked eyebrow. “No,” I grumble, “She caught me in my attempt and started lecturing me, I was thinking of just jumping her before she pointed out your run in with the police.”

“You were gonna jump the woman?!” He exclaims.

“I didn’t know what to do!!” I hissed, “And it’s not like I did it!” I let out a frustrated sigh, crossing my arms across my chest, “We need a new plan, where’s Sammy?”

“‘Think he’s waiting by the car, ‘hope he’s got somethin’ Roy’s gonna do a private healing session with Layla tonight.”

“Great,” I mumble, “I really should have jumped her.”

I sit criss cross applesauce on the hard motel bed. For a hunt that I knew so much about I had royally blown it. She was right there. The necklace right there. “Please tell me you found something helpful in their home” I pleaded.

“I found the spell book, written by a priest who went dark side,” Sam answers, holding up the small book, “And she isn’t just killing random people. She’s forcing the Reaper to kill people she finds immoral, from some teacher who was openly gay to a woman who advocated for abortion rights.” The room fell quiet for a moment, there were more layers to this than we thought. “May God save us from half the people who think they're doing God's work” Dean muses.

“No seriously that’s messed up,” I add, shaking my head. “Yeah,” Sam nods, “I think you should hold onto this book Y/N.” He hands it over and I hold it cautiously in my hand, “How nice.” I’ll probably spend the next couple of days reading it over before ultimately sending it home, I did not need a spell book on dark magic with me, didn't even need to own it but rather me than get in the wrong hands.

“We should head back soon” Dean says, “Layla could be there any minute”

The Impala rolls over the graveled road for the second and hopefully final time today, this time with total darkness cloaking us no lights on. We roll to a stop, “That's Layla's car. She's already here,” Sam points out.

Dean nods slowly, “Yeah.” He was upset, “Dean…” Sam began. But Dean ignores him, looking out the window instead, “You know if Roy woulda picked Layla instead of me she'd be here right now. And if she's not healed tonight she's gonna die in a coupla’ months.” I should’ve known my dramatic speech from before wouldn’t magically resolve him of his guilt, no one has that power. “What's happening to her is horrible,” Sam reasons, “But what are you gonna do? Let somebody else die to save her? You said it yourself Dean, you can't play God.”

Dean goes quiet for a beat before getting out of the car, Sam and I following. We approach the tent, peeking inside to see Roy speaking to a small group of people including Layla and her mom, “Gather round, please everyone, gather round. Come in closer, come on up.”

“Where's Sue Ann?” Dean whispers. I tried to crane my neck to look around the tent, maybe she was off to the side somewhere… “House,” Sam answers simply.

We creep up to the small house, weary of making too much noise we couldn’t afford to get caught, “You guys go find Sue Ann, I'll catch up,” Dean orders. I look at him confused, “Wait, what are you gonna—“ But Dean’s already backing away from us yelling, “Hey!” to two figures in the distance. “You gonna put that fear of God in me?” he yells out, of course he would be taunting the police. The officers drop what looks to be coffee cups before running after him, Dean taking off at full speed. Only he would do something so stupid. “Uh, anyways” I begin, “If she’s doing it at her house she’s probably by the altar, and considering the size and necessities of the thing and the fact her husband doesn't know it would have to be in an attic or basement.”

“I’ll offer you one better” Sam nods off to the side of the building, “a cellar.” He was right, that would be better. And on top of that definite light emerges from the metal doors. Sam leads the way opening up the heavy doors and propping it open as he makes his way down first. I follow suit immediately being hit with the sight that is the altar, a small table adorned with candle operas filled by tall burning candles, parts of dead animals, bones and blood sprawled out meticulously across the red table cloth. And right in the middle was a black and white surveillance photo of Dean before he was healed, the photo smeared in blood.

“I gave him life and I can take it back too” A familiar voice suddenly says. Sue Ann. I turn around hastily being met with cold eyes, behind me I hear a large crash and I don’t have to look to know Sam had flipped over the table. Her eyes flip to the scene and I use the initial shock to rush her, but she was already close to the stairs so it did not take her long to sweep up them slamming the cellar doors behind her. Something clicks and shifts, she must have locked us in here. Sam joins me at my side, pushing and fighting against the barred doors. “Can't you see? The Lord chose me to reward the just and punish the wicked,” she reasons, “And Dean is wicked and he deserves to die just as Layla deserves to live. It is God's will.”

Oh, so that twisted psycho thinks that’s how it is. Well she messed with the wrong witch. “You're gonna wanna back up” I tell Sam. I press my palms to the cold metal of the doors, I’m pissed now. No one gets to use magic, let alone dark magic, on either of my boys. The doors begin to rattle harshly, almost as if there’s an earthquake, “Goodbye Sam, Y/N” she says. I put more force on the door, my entire being focused on it until it burst open bits of chipped paint and screws flying away, a satisfying break of the wood she used to block us ringing in my ears as broken bits of the wood come crashing back down.

Sue Ann stands but a couple feet away, her eyes wide as she watches me exit the cellar with shock and fear. She backs up further and I follow after her like a predator trapping its prey. “I-I read about things like you” she says weakly, her voice shaking. She keeps backing up, “You’re a—You’re a—“ her back hits the wall of a nearby trailer house. “Witch” I finished for her, yanking off that necklace once and for all.

I throw it off to the side, far away, and back up from her. My job was done and the Reaper would come knocking for its own revenge. “My God, what have you done?,” she heaves, pressing a hand to where her necklace used to be. “He’s not your God” Sam says cooly. Her head snaps to something in the distance, her face falls growing pale she must be seeing the Reaper. Then all at once she takes off running, not making it very far before she falls to her knees, her body convulsing once, twice, before falling to the ground. “I think we have just aided in her murder” I muse.

“Yeah…” Sam nods, “We should probably…” This time I nod, not saying anything as we walk away from the crime heading back in the direction of the Impala. We intercept Dean on the way, meeting at the car. I give him a small thumbs up to say we did it this time and he nods solemnly. “You okay?” Sam asks him.

“Hell of a week” he answers.

I glanced up from my phone for the fifth time in the last minute. I was trying to text Adeline to update her on everything but kept getting distracted by Dean's blank face as he stared off at nothing while sitting in bed. I made eye contact with Sam, giving him a sad smile, we were thinking the same thing. He turns to his brother, watching him for a moment before speaking, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Dean replies gruffly. Sam looks back at me again and I give him an encouraging nod, “What is it?” he asks again this time more gently.

“We did the right thing here didn't we?” Dean asks, finally breaking. It was difficult to answer him, on one hand we stopped someone from playing God and killing people who they found immoral in which none of the victims were bad people, it wasn’t like they were criminals but to her they were still wicked (god forbid someone has a different opinion than you). But on the other hand it was saving people, except to pay one life for another wasn’t exactly gracious work. Yet, we were doing the same thing, trying to play God and cheat death. I had even admitted to being willing to make great scarface’s to do so, in that aspect I wasn’t so different from Sue Ann in the very beginning.

“Of course we did,” Sam answers, and he really does sound sure. Dean sighs, hanging his head, “It doesn't feel like it.” Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and the parallel from only earlier in the week is not lost on me, “I got it” Sam volunteers getting up from his seat to open the door, “Hey Layla. Come on in.”

Huh.

“Hey” she waves awkwardly. Dean quickly rises from his place on the bed, “How did you know we were here?”

“Sam...called. He said you...wanted to say goodbye?”

Dean glances at Sam and I join in on the glaring, he really needs to start telling me things sooner. But he just smiles sheepishly, “I'm gonna...grab a soda.”

I stand abruptly from my chair, Dean should have his time with Layla. Maybe he won’t feel as guilty, “I’m gonna join you” I declare, “A soda sounds great!” I follow Sam out the door, closing it behind me.

[slutteok]

HUNGER (Choi San)

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pairing ✭ subby!human!san x gn!vampire!reader

summary ✭ n/a

content ✭ smut 18+ MDNI

word count ✭ 618

warnings ✭ smut, blood sucking, implied unprotected sex

tags ✭ established relationship, vampire reader x human san, unprotected sex, orgasms from blood being sucked (?),

authors note ✭ this was a comm for a friend. pls enjoy. sorry i don't have much else to add to this! <3

◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

Hunger. It always struck you at the worst moments. Having to hold yourself back from your boyfriend's neck which was only centimeters away. As you bury your face into his neck, his grip around your waist tightens. You try to ignore the pain in your stomach, and the sound of his heart pumping blood through his body only fueling your desires further. You tried to focus on the pleasure, the pleasure of him stretching you, and filling you so full, you could usually forget the pangs of hunger you feel in these moments. But not this time.

You can hear his blood pumping, the rush of blood rushing through his body only heightening your senses. Your teeth ached, your body started to tremble, you could feel your orgasm rapidly approaching and mixing with your hunger. You promised you wouldn’t ever feed on him, although once he told you that he wouldn’t have minded. Choi San was just kind like that. So thoughtful, he always wanted to give you everything- even if that meant his blood.

You can’t hold it back any longer. The harder San thrusted up into you, the worse it got. The familiar heat pooling in your belly, mixing with your hunger pains and the soreness of your mouth. Your mouth runs dry, it’s hard for any noises to come out. As your orgasm reaches it’s peak, your fangs sink into his flesh. The metallic taste and smell flood your senses, a low moan coming from your throat, against his skin.

San’s eyes widen and he yelps as the sharp ice cold pain rockets through his body. He grabs your head in an attempt to pull you away, but his body melts into your touch. The ice cold feeling ran through his veins as you drank his blood. Savoring every drop you could. His body twitched under yours, his head lulling to the side, his eyes fluttering closed.

“y/n,” he moans, his hips starting to buck up into you, sloppy and uncoordinated. His pulse quickens, emptying more and more blood into your mouth as you eagerly and greedily drink the liquid. San leans into you, as his body begins to grow numb, his hips bucking up into you harder as unbearable pleasure courses through him. His name spilling out of your mouths in pathetic whimpers as he chases his release.

The feeling of his blood coursing through both of your bodies bringing you to new pleasurable heights. Your body begins to tremble again, and your hips start to roll against san’s, making more pathetic whimpers escape his body.

Right as you start to pull away, satisfied with your fill, San’s hand makes its home on the back of your head, keeping you firmly planted. You don’t protest, your eyes closing as you continue to lap at the blood that fills your mouth. His grip on you tightens, and as you do one final drink, he comes undone. You moan against him at the feeling of him releasing inside of you, your second orgasm following shortly after as you ride your high out together.

As you pull away, San gently strokes your hair, looking at you. You always worried if he’d see you differently, but it was evident in the way he still held so much love for you in his eyes that nothing had changed. His thumb passes your bottom lip, cleaning off the remaining blood for your lips before pressing a soft and tender kiss to them. You can’t help but smile as you kiss him back, cherishing the love you two share.

[mercy-love-joy]

Choose the Theme for the PV/SM fic

Alright, so checking on the poll, you guys wanted a PV/SM fic as the next fic I write after I complete In Sickness and Never in Health. SO I have below two different snippets. One is about a deep sea horror station and the other is a creepy/uncanny town. PV is trapped in both and SM is one weird guy.

Deep sea horror snippet:

“We all live on a yellow submarine, a yellow- ack! S-submarine.” He grits his teeth as he tugs the bandages tightly over the bleeding limb. His eyes are clouded with tears while his hands burn from the first-degree burn he got earlier while blowing the fire out of the main lobby. He blinks his eyes rapidly as he sings through gritted teeth, “We all live on a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine-” he whines when he feels the blood from his leg drip down his thigh. ‘I should’ve ducked into the vents,’ he scolds himself. He would’ve made his newly cut off leg open for infection but he would rather deal with infection rather than the blueish-black sludge ransacking the halls.

He doesn’t know where it came from, or what happened that would cause the thing to appear and start killing everyone. He just knows that there was a shake and he was unconscious until he was shaken awake by a frantic White Lily Cookie and a panicked Hollyberry Cookie. He didn’t understand what was all the yelling about beforehand, he was simply pulled up and dragged along the shaking station, passing guards with guns and scientists with papers flying all over the place. He remembers turning his head to see out the window, expecting to see the dark blue abyss but he saw blue sapphire eyes following his every step.  That gave him enough of an urge to run.

OR

Spooky town snippet

He hates the storms. He hates the lighting and flashes of white, he hates the pelting rain that dares break his roof, and he hates the howling wind. If anything, he despises the howling wind. He’s just not one to deal with the howls and shrieks of the billowing breeze, it makes his dough crawl and his chest heave a dry gag. He physically feels ill and is always willing to just collapse where he stands if he hears the ghoulish shriek of the wind during a storm. 

Probably why he dug out a “basement” in a haze of frantic panic. 

He doesn’t remember doing it, he doesn’t remember entering the small closet that was longer in length than in height, and digging up the wood, the dirt, and the bugs from the dirt to create his own shelter. Underground, it’s quiet. He likes the quiet. Quiet means safety, and safety means that he doesn’t have nightmares. 

He’s had nightmares since he could remember. They were always of a torn field of vanilla flowers, a barren willow tree moaning above him, and a crazed cookie standing over him. The cookie is always blue, sharp blue eyes, blue hands, and blue dough. Every hue or dilute of blue you could think of covered the cookie head to toe, and he always had Pure Vanilla pinned to the mud, laughing and gripping his wrists. He would be laughing in one nightmare or be saying something in another. The blonde doesn’t know. He chooses to ignore the nightmares, but in return, it causes him to lose sleep and it doesn’t make for good conversation with his friends.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Hello hello!! This is a req so if they arent open pls ignore/delete!!

Can u write hobin or taehun with a fem s/o that is quiet tall and wears glasses and how they would act around them? If u can do both that'd be great but u can just do one of them^^

Hobin + Taehoon? I'll do you one better (sorta). Here's some character HC I think would react to any of those attributes!

HTF + Lookism x Reader: Quiet, Tall, Glasses Reader HC

(Hobin, Taehoon, Wangguk, Yeonwoo, Goo, Jake)

Yoo Hobin

Would be a little insecure about his height at first, assuming you met him when he was shorter. It's easy for most people to tower over him so if you're on the taller side it's fine, but he just really wants his growth spurt to kick in

Bit ignorant at the best of times, will keep checking up on you if you're quiet "are you ok???" "what you thinking about?" "why you so quiet?" or he looks out for signs that he's pissed you off so you need to reassure him

We've seen him with Bomi, he hasn't got the best instinct with a partner so you'll need to sit him down and talk through any potential issues

Seong Taehoon

Bastard that would be hiding your glasses all the time

Asks if you're blind without your glasses A LOT, and uses it as an excuse to get his face up close to yours (makes it easier for him to steal kisses too)

Your height would be a VERY fun aspect. He can't do the lean down and get in your personal space act that he does with everyone else, so he just thinks of other ways to make you generally flustered

...Straddling and pinning you down in bed is one

Han Wangguk (I love him)

He's not used to being around quiet people. Being a Newtuber usually means a pretty big personality so it's a nice change of pace

The quietness between you both is never awkward, you just enjoy each others company

It takes a bit for him to get used to your height. His main point of reference lol is Gyeoul and she's not the tallest.

It actually makes some things a lot easier, like hand holding, hugs

Ji Yeonwoo

Tall, quiet, glasses? Sure you're not describing Yeonwoo?

Definitely the type of guy that would carry extra glasses wipes for you, or if you ask him to pass your glasses over he'll give them a quick clean. He's a sweet and thoughtful boy

You two would make a very serene match tbh, the most wholesome couple vibes

Goo Kim

This guy would absolutely love that you're wearing glasses above all else

He would create the Eight Eyes Club for you both "I've got 4 eyes and you've got 4 eyes, you get it babe??" No one else can join

Buys you so many different styles because it's fun

Will wear and steal yours regardless of prescription

Has someone to moan to about how much Gun makes fun of him for needing glasses

And if you're quiet, then he'll just take it as a sign to keep talking

Jake Kim

Isn't this guy like 6ft 4? So you have to be pretty tall for him to take notice cos almost everyone is short as hell compared to him

Honestly? LOVES it, just like Wangguk.

Makes physical affection a lot easier, and also tbh sex positions too

He'll treat you like an equal no matter what, but pretty cool if you have the stature to match

Quietness he can deal with, but you gotta give him something for his stupid jokes