#sorry this is stupid but i saw emerald and cherry side by side on the discontinued yarn page and knew what i had to do

[yoyosbazaarsadventure]

OH MY FUCKING GOD

THEY DISCONTINUED KAKYOIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[sun--flowerseed]

jasmin, tea leaves, and honey

chap. 1

Sasuke recognizes her immediately when he enters the room, and it isn’t because of her pink hair.

It’s because of her scent.

He doesn’t know her name, but he’s seen her around the village. He’s heard other Alphas talk about her: the pink haired Omega, the civilian nurse at the hospital, the medicinal herbs specialist that makes expensive and effective salves for shinobi.

She sat with him once, at the hospital, and applied a lotion directly to his bicep, but it happened even before she touched him.

It happened the second she entered his hospital room, the second he inhaled and smelled her sweet scent, a mix of his favorite tea leaves that he’s tried to brew since and haven’t smelled as pure and lovely, sweet jasmine, and the smell of honeysuckle, a flower he’d like to place between his lips and inhale like her sweet scent.

Sasuke feels woozy when he inhales, and desperate when he exhales. He remembers this feeling from when she touched him, but her delicious scent is disorienting enough.

What is she doing here in the Hokage’s office?

“Watch your tone, Uchiha,” Tsunade warns.

Oh, he must have said that out loud. He has the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry, Hokage-sama. I meant, is this about a mission?”

Tsunade’s eyes narrow, but she licks her lips and moves forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see a pretty flush on Sakura’s cheeks. Has he embarrassed her? Or worse, hurt her feelings by his comment? He hadn’t meant to be rude, but the way her scent invaded his senses left him incapable of proper speech.

“Yes, this is about a mission.” Tsunade shifts in her seat behind her desk, a frown on her face. For someone who acts like an Alpha, you can tell easily from her scent, or lack thereof, that she’s a beta. A strong, powerful beta that could easily send him flying through the wall behind him if she decided to. “It’s an escort mission to the Land of Lightning—you’re familiar with the route, aren’t you?”

Sasuke nods his head.

“Our medicinal herbs specialist needs to cultivate a specific plant that grows near the far North,” Tsunade explains. “Unfortunately, she can’t go alone. It will be at least a seven day trip on foot if you walk, and take the safest route… And even then, you’ll still be sleeping in the woods most nights.”

“So I’m to escort… her,” he says, gesturing toward the girl, whose name he doesn’t even know yet, but whose scent he’s figmented in dreams, “to the Land of Lightning.”

“Sakura Haruno,” Tsunade supplies.

Her name fits her hair, he thinks, a sheet of vibrant pink that cascades down her back that matches the color of cherry blossoms, all the way to her narrow waist. She takes care of her hair—she can afford to; she is not a ninja, she is a civilian doctor who happens to understand the intricacies of herbal medicine, and healing. It’s beautiful, more beautiful than any woman’s hair he’s ever seen, but he wants to push it behind her ears so he can see her gland on the side of her neck.

Sasuke almost shakes his head before looking back at the Hokage. “When do we leave?”

“Go home, get some rest,” Tsunade offers. “You can both leave first thing in the morning. There’s no rush to get there, the plants have nowhere to go, and there’s no rush to get back… Remember that Sakura isn’t a ninja like you, Sasuke,” she reminds him. “She needs to rest. I’ll give you three weeks to complete the mission, give or take.”

“Understood.”

“And, one more thing…” Tsunade’s lips curl into a sly smirk. “Walk Sakura home. It’s getting late.”

Sasuke nods, decidedly ignoring her smirk as he tries to keep his eyes from narrowing. “Yes, Hokage-sama.”

Sasuke opens the door, and waits a moment for Sakura. When she doesn’t take the hint that he’s holding the door for her, he clears his throat and then says, “Haruno-san, are you coming?”

She seems to shake herself out of something, turning a pretty pink color that matches her hair, and he wonders how far that flush goes down past the modest collar of her dress, lovely civilian clothes that define her waist and a long skirt that flares out at the hips. It’s a pretty green that matches her eyes, sparkling emeralds that make contact with his shyly. “Sorry, Uchiha-san—”

“Sasuke is fine,” he supplies quickly. He’d rather move past formalities now, and he’d like to hear her say his name, too.

She smiles demurely. “Okay, Sasuke. You can call me Sakura, then.”

Sakura moves past him through the doorway, and Sasuke is close enough that her scent nearly floors him. He inhales deeply. She smells delectable, too good, how is he ever going to survive this mission?

“Thank you,” she says, turning around to meet his gaze, but when she sees him: pupils dilated, nostrils flared, eyes staring down at her, scent spiking and agitated, her mouth falls open and her eyes widen. She stammers, “is—is everything alright, Sasuke?”

He shakes his head, and tries to hold his breath, closing the door behind him as Sakura backs away. When her back hits the wall, he doesn’t take another step forward, leaving enough space between them so that Sakura can breathe. Sasuke takes a deep breath, and there’s enough space between them that he gets a little oxygen and everything is a little less fuzzy. He relaxes, if only a little, and he’s able to start breathing regularly. “Everything is fine. Where do you live, Sakura?”

When Sakura smells him relax, she relaxes, too. “I… I live a few blocks away from the hospital, in the apartments past the market, but you don’t have to walk me home, Sasuke. I’ll be fine. The Uchiha District is on the other side of town—”

“It’s fine.” He starts walking down the hall, out of the Hokage tower. She follows him. “I insist.”

“Well, thank you, Sasuke-kun.” She smiles, and what a pretty smile she has, lips plush and soft-looking. They’re painted pink today, but last time he saw her they were red, and he decides that he likes both. “I appreciate it.”

They walk in a comfortable silence down the city streets. It’s late now, and Konoha becomes quiet when the sun goes down. It’s summer, and the civilian kids are off from school, usually dancing through the streets with their friends, but they’re home now. It seems like it’s just the two of them on the street. The hospital looks dead as they pass it, and Sakura stops. “Do you mind if I grab something from my office, Sasuke-kun?”

He shakes his head. “Not at all. Lead the way.”

She smiles at him, again, and it makes his heart flutter, a little. Just enough that he’s sure his scent might have spiked slightly, embarrassingly. He follows her into the hospital, to the elevator where Sakura idles, but then says, “maybe we should take the stairs.”

Relieved, Sasuke agrees. He couldn’t imagine standing in an elevator with her, her scent overtaking his scenes and leaving him breathless and nearly confused. He’s afraid he might say something he regrets, not that he’d ever touch her, but he’s sure something stupid might come out of his mouth if he’s left alone in an enclosed area with her. He nearly fell to his knees when she passed under his nose while she walked by him; standing in an elevator couldn’t be good for his health.

They walk up two flights, and he follows her down the hallway to her office. She stops in front of a large wood door with her name on it, reaches into the pocket of her skirt and pulls out a set of keys, unlocking the door. “I’ll just be a moment. You can come in, have a seat…” she trails off, stepping into her office and immediately scurrying over to the bookshelf and trailing her fingers over the spines of textbooks.

Sasuke takes a step into her office, and is immediately overwhelmed. Everything, absolutely everything, in the entire office smells like her.

It smells like she lives here.

Sasuke takes a step out of the office, holding his breath. “I’ll be right outside, Sakura.”

“Sure,” she says, unfazed, and continues scavenging through her books. Sasuke takes a few more steps away from the office, back into the sterile hallways of the hospital, nostrils filling with the nearly stinging and acrid smell of antiseptic. It’s better, less dizzying and more orienting.

When she’s done, she locks the door behind her. She’s carrying three textbooks, and heavy ones by the looks of it. They look bigger than her. Sasuke immediately grabs them from her, his hand grazing hers, his finger touching the gland on her wrist mistakenly. They both gasp, and the books clatter to the ground.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” Sasuke says, and immediately bends to the floor and begins picking up her books. He did not mean to touch her gland, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel glorious, that soft, sweet patch of skin on her wrist that would smell like her scent bottled, almost as delicious as the one on her neck. He could scent her here, make her smell like him until everybody thinks she’s his.

He doesn’t do that. He picks up her books, and begins stalking off maybe a little too fast toward the stairwell. She trails after him, trying to catch up, before she says, “Sasuke-kun, wait!”

He slows down until he’s walking at her pace again. “Uh, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she says. “You must be in such a rush to get home. Were you just coming back from a mission?”

“No,” he says. “Just training with my team.”

“You’re on the same team as Naruto-san, right?” Sakura asks.

“Yes.” Sasuke nods his head. “Do you know him?”

“I’ve treated Naruto-san… many, many times,” she says between laughs. Sasuke smirks, knowing exactly what she’s talking about: Naruto is a klutz, and often ends up in the hospital in need of healing because of it. “He is very kind.”

Sasuke snorts. “He’s something.”

When they make it to Sakura’s apartment, Sakura stops and turns to Sasuke with a smile. “This is it.”

“Can I drop off your text books for you?” he asks quietly, and then shakes his head. “Only if you’re comfortable, obviously, and—”

“Sure, Sasuke-kun,” she says and her smile only widens. “Thank you.”

Sasuke follows behind her up the stairs that leads to her apartment door. She unlocks it quietly, and then let’s Sasuke in behind her. If her office smelled incredible, then her home smells unreal. It smells like laying in a field of flowers, lush and bright, like opening up a used book at the library, crisp and somehow fresh. It smells like Sakura rolling onto him in the morning, her hair over her shoulder, neck exposed to his sharp teeth, tongue grazing her gland as he tastes her scent with his tongue.

“You can put those on the kitchen table,” she says. She’s smiling at him, and he’s suffocating. He could actually die, maybe.

Sasuke quickly places the books down on the table, and then makes a sprint for the door. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he says, before locking the door behind him, and shutting it swiftly. He takes a big lungful of the air around him, and sprints home.

…

The Uchiha District is always full of life, cursed with the hustle and bustle of every mundane village. The Uchiha’s settled on the outskirts of Konoha, not quite part of the village and not quite one of its own. It’s over 20 acres large, and lined with vendors, homes, businesses, and the entire police force of Konoha.

Sasuke calls it home.

When he enters the gates, he slows his pace to moseying. He greets his Aunt and Uncle who own the candy stand at the entrance, cleaning up for the day as they offer him sweets he kindly declines. He isn’t one for candies, and he isn’t one to take something he won’t use. He greets his nieces and nephews as they are running back to their home as the sun sets. When he finally makes it to his own, small home, he unlocks his door and pads through with a sigh.

Sasuke strips to his boxers, and begins to make a dinner of eggs, rice, and tomatoes, something simple that he can handle after a long mission. If he’d had the energy, he’d have walked the extra mile into the district to his parent’s house and joined them for dinner, but he couldn’t bear to walk much further.

Once he’s full and settled, Sasuke walks into his bedroom and sighs when he sees his messy bed and his laundry on the floor that he hasn’t tended to in a while due to missions. He gathers his soiled clothes, throws them in the hamper, and gathers clean linens from the closet. He makes his bed, gathers his lightest quilt against the summer warmth, and decides to check in early for the night.

He’s exhausted, but sleep evades him. He stares up at the ceiling, hands laced behind his head, as he thinks. His mind is crawling with thoughts of Sakura: Sakura, in her emerald green dress, blushing in embarrassment as he holds the door for her. Sakura, brushing her hair out of her face and over her shoulder, innocently showing off the plush gland on her neck. Sakura, in her office, her scent surrounding them like a warm, soft blanket, cocooning him like it’s her own arms wrapped around him.

Then, he closes his eyes, and his thoughts change. Sakura, sliding her emerald dress down her arms, showing off her bony shoulders. Sakura, tilting her head slightly, baring her ripe gland to him like an offering. Sakura, in her office, on her desk in lordosis, baring her pussy to him, wet with slick, ready for his knot.

This isn’t the first time he’s fantasized about Sakura. It’s not the second, or third time since she helped him in the hospital after that mission a few months ago.

It’s not the first time he’s touched himself thinking about her, and he’s sure it won’t be the last.

Sasuke throws the cover off of himself, unearths his cock from his underwear, and strokes himself mercilessly to the thought of Sakura in his bed, now, on her back, legs open wide so he can get a good look at her dripping cunt. It would be perfect, and pink, and it would strangle and milk him for all he’s worth.

He’s almost there, and then he thinks about her asking him—no, begging him to mate her, and he falls over the edge, finishing in viscous globs of white on his stomach, and into the curly, black hair at the base of his cock.

After a moment Sasuke sighs, and throws his clean arm over his eyes. It takes him a moment to get up, and he curses when he realizes he’ll be going to sleep much later than anticipated now that he needs a shower.

Sasuke rises from his bed, strips, leaving his soiled boxers on the ground by his bed, and walks toward the bathroom where he’ll take a long, cold shower and try to think about things other than pink haired omegas that smell so beautiful and divine that there aren’t enough suppressants in the world to stave off the scent.

Once he’s freezing and clean, he stumbles into bed and falls asleep naked to the lull of embarrassed blushes and quick brushes of his fingers against a gland he may never have the pleasure of feeling.

[queentargary3n]

blessings

SasuSaku month 2020 Day 17 

Reincarnation AU  - Police Officer Sasuke AU

There isn’t a single day of his life that Uchiha Sasuke isn’t thankful for his life. For his mother’s gentle smile and kind nature, for his father’s silent praises, for his brother’s company and support. He’s even grateful for his loud mouthed, blond, best friend, who annoys him most of the time, but has his back when he needs it the most. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve such great people in his life.

At 24, having graduated college, and finished training in the police academy, he sets up for a bright career as a police officer and hopes to make detective before he is 30.

So, he goes to work every day, knowing he is making a change. Watching over the people he grew up with, protecting his beloved town, and actually doing something about the crime that has begun to infest it.

Sasuke knows his life is good, he was born in a good family, went to a top tier university, he never lacked for anything. He knows that having his family, being able to afford his own place, buy a new car, and work in something he actually likes is a luxury many don’t actually have.

But even as he counts his blessings every day, he can’t escape the feeling that he is missing something. Like there is a hole inside of him, he can’t seem to fill with anything.

He doesn’t remember when his nightmares started, perhaps he’s always had them. Sometimes it’s the bloody corpses of his parents that terrorize him during the night, the sadness of his brother’s eyes, as he looks at him from afar, eyes shining red and spinning unnaturally. Other nights it’s a white-faced man, with snake-like features that hunts him, forcing him to drink potions that taste horrible and burn down his throat, telling him that they will make him stronger. On other nights he dreams of facing gigantic humanoid creatures, dead bodies littering the ground he steps on.

But some nights, he dreams of pink cherry blossom hair and green eyes. The spring girl, as he calls her, cries behind him, begging him not to leave, or stands in front of him as one of his hands reaches for her neck and the other holds lightning, readying to electrocute her, he assumes.

Not every dream is violent with the spring girl, sometimes it’s just him and her. She hugs him or holds his hand as they look over magnificent vistas he’s never actually seen in real life. Sometimes they are children, sometimes they are grown, sometimes he taps his fingers to a strange diamond tattoo on her forehead and she blushes. Sometimes he kisses her and makes love to her. He wakes up to a feeling of sadness and tears rolling down his eyes. He doesn’t know who the girl with the cherry blossom hair is, or why is she a constant in his dreams, but the dreams bring him to tears he’s not one to usually shed. He can never shake the feeling that there is someone out there in the world, waiting for him.

On the day of his annual mental evaluation he is very concerned. He always seems to be expecting something to happen. Someone to attack him or his family. He has so much fear over losing it all, it causes him anxiety and panic attacks in the most unexpected times. He’s afraid the new department psychologist will find out and deemed him unfit for service.

It’s unnerving, feeling this way, because in reality what does he even know about pain? He’s never seen blood; he’s never even had to fire his gun on the job, what could possibly be the explanation for his nightmares? He wonders.

Itachi, who’s on the department of youth and family services, always tells him that is not how mental illnesses work, his anxiety has nothing to do with how good his life is or how lucky he is, and that he should never dismiss his own struggles or be comparing his suffering to others.

Sasuke understands but doesn’t actually believe it.

“I think you should be honest with the psychologist” He tells Sasuke, even if they take you off duty Itachi thinks, but he leaves it unsaid.

“I’m not going to tell her anything she doesn’t ask me… It’s not like having bad dreams makes me unfit for work” Sasuke responds.

“Maybe you should go see my psychic” Izumi chirps in from the doorway to Itachi’s office. “I wasn’t eavesdropping I promise! I was just coming to take my boyfriend out to lunch and I just happen to overhear”

Sasuke only glares at her, he doesn’t like anyone meddling in this, it feels too personal to share with his soon-to-be-but-not-quite-yet-sister-in-law. Itachi gives him an apologetic look on her behalf but says nothing.

“Still those dreams huh? She has really interesting ideas about those! Do you believe in reincarnation?” She asks him.

“That you believe all that craps she sells you, tells me so much, you’re crazy for starters” Sasuke tells her, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“No but hear me out!” Izumi tells him, ignoring his previous comment. “Like, our dreams don’t just make things up, right? You have to have seen those things somewhere, like that girl you keep dreaming about, you met her somewhere, your brain didn’t just invent her, but the circumstances you dream her in don’t match your life, right? Maybe you met in another life! And my psychic can tell you all about that!” she looks in her massive handbag and produces a presentation card that Sasuke takes, out of politeness, but doesn’t bother to look at.

Sasuke doesn’t even believe in that sort of thing, his beliefs always been on the more secular side of things, but even if there is a remote chance he might have lived another life before, where he saw wars, and monsters, and his parents death, he sure as hell doesn’t want to know about it.

So, he goes about his day, entirely forgetting the non-sense Izumi was blabbing on about. He goes to lunch with Naruto, ramen again unsurprisingly, makes a visit to a home for a noise complaint, files his paperwork, and tries to go home early for a change.

He attempted to postpone his psych evaluation as much as he could, that is, until his father, the head of the police department catches him on his way out, and orders him to medical immediately so he can get it over with.

“Go on, you know its protocol, she’s there now” His father chastises.

Sasuke is irritated to no end, but he still obediently makes his way to the new psychologist’s office in the back of the building.

Just keep it simple, don’t elaborate, it’ll be fine, he thinks to himself.

The door to the psychologist’s office is open, so Sasuke stands in the entrance and knocks on the door to announce his arrival. The space is completely littered with boxes and mountains of papers, stacked on top of another and covering the desk in its entirety, so much so that he can’t even see the person seating behind it.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m new, I’m still getting everything settled! Are you here for an eval? Did I get your file? Where are my files!? What’s your name?” She says in a rapid succession.

He stays quiet, so she can gather herself, and takes a seat in front of her crowded desk, and it isn’t until she moves the two gigantic boxes of documents in front of them that he is able to see her.

He sits complete frozen, utterly speechless upon setting eyes on her. Because the person seating in front of him now, is unbelievably and irrevocably the Spring girl.

The shiny pink hair, wide emerald colored eyes and a blushing face he’d never mistake for anyone else’s are facing him now, with a look of surprise on it.

And he is sure his face mirrors hers, especially since the next thing she says to him, is an almost whispered, “Sasuke-kun….”

“I can’t believe this…” She mumbles and looks like she’s about to jump on him, but the look on his face stops her. “Do you… am… do you know who I am?” She asks, a hint of hope sparkling in her eyes.

“The new psychologist… about to perform my yearly eval?…” He responds, unsure of himself.

He can see the deflated expression and disappointment spreading thought her. “Right… I haven’t seen your file… ahem sorry… I think we are going to have to postpone this… maybe someone else can do your evaluations tomorrow, I apologize” She tells him, in a more composed and professional tone.

She stands and grabs a small purse from one of the drawers and tries to make a quick exit.

Sasuke stares at her unable to say anything. He observes every detail he can about her, every slender curve of her body, the way her neat short hair hangs on her delicate neck, and he is suddenly overcome with the image of her, wearing a red tunic instead of the sensible suit, a red and white fan crest in the center of her back.

His hand moves almost of its own accord and grabs her tiny wrist to prevent her from leaving, and she turns to look at him, green eyes wide and full of emotions he’s not able to understand.

“I know you from somewhere” He says, in a statement not a question.

“Do you?  I don’t think so, sorry” She responds and tries to shake his hold on her wrist.

“You said you hadn’t seen my file; how did you know my name?” Sasuke asks her, in the demanding voice she remembers so well.

“I… just… ahem… I don’t….”

“What are you hiding?”

“Do you remember something… anything… about me?” She asks, the adorable blush from earlier spreading through her face again.

Sasuke isn’t sure what she means, but now that she’s facing him, he becomes completely lost in her eyes, his instincts screaming at him to hold her, and never let go. “Who are you?” He asks. Because saying, yeah, I remember you from a dream sounds entirely too stupid to mention.

The moment feels as if suspended from time, the atmosphere too suffocating, he’s afraid of even closing his eyes, sure that the moment he reopens them, she’d be gone like every dream he’s ever had.

“My name is Sakura” she says, and her name sounds like music to his ears. “This is going to sound really strange, and possibly unprofessional, but do you want to go get a drink?” She says, biting her lower lip and taking a strand of hair behind her ear nervously.

He only nods his head yes and releases her hand. “Just… how do I know you?” He whispers.

She giggles in response, her face more assertive than before. “It’s a long story Sasuke-kun… maybe… I’ll tell you later” She says, poking his forehead with two fingers before grabbing his hand and pulling him to follow.

He doesn’t know anything about the strange girl with the cherry blossom pink hair other than her name, still he would follow her anywhere. He can’t help but to feel his blessings are finally complete.

[n0rthern-litez]

Wild Enough - Elina

Dean Winchester X Fem Reader  Warnings: Slight cussing and thoughts of self hate Word Count:4195

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing a song-fic and I really hope you all enjoy. I spent way to much time on it lol. Feedback is always wanted, so feel free to share any tips and advice!♥️♥️

To your palette I’m translucent At least when I’m looking at myself

At eighteen years old you stood in front of the mirror staring at yourself. Your eyes slowly raked over your body, pointing out things that you needed to change. Physically and just who you were as a person. You met him for the first time at sixteen, and the second your eyes laid on him, you knew you weren’t his idea of attractive. But there was a tiny part inside you that thought, maybe if he got to know you, maybe he’d see something he liked.

You were always the shy one of the group. Never really talking, just listening to the gossip. You were never one to make lots of friends or go out to parties. You preferred staying in bed and reading or laying on the couch and binging Netflix. And being the way you were never bothered you in the slightest, not until you met him.

(Y/n 16, Dean 17)

“Bobby, how are you?” The familiar voice of John Winchester greeted your father. It might surprise a lot of people, but John was one of your favorite people to ever walk the earth. He treated you differently, almost like a daughter. He would take you places when he would visit, and if you got lucky he even let you drive his car. He was always there for you when you’d call upset and if you ever needed him, he wouldn’t hesitate to drive all night to get to you.

Throwing your book aside, not bothering to save your place. You rushed to the front door, where you jumped in the arms of your favorite man. He hadn’t been able to visit for well over six months and you missed him. But this visit was different, he was bringing his sons and it was going to be your first time meeting them. Every other time they came, your father had sent you off to your Aunt Jody’s to have a taste of ‘normal’ as he calls it.

“You’ve grown so much.” John laughed, setting you back on the ground. “I’d like you to meet Sam and Dean, boys this is Y/n.”

Looking behind John, you got ready to greet your future best friends and you couldn’t describe the feeling that came over you. It was something you had never felt before. As you made eye contact with his sparkling emeralds, butterflies began fluttering chaotically in your stomach and you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. “Hi.”

You’re that coltsfoot Breaking Pavement All I seem to do is break these things

You always had hope that maybe if you tried hard enough, just maybe he’d find something in you that he liked. Something that made him want to be with you. So you tried everything to get his attention. You would show off the skills you got from your fathers training. You would play his favorite music when you did your chores, knowing that he’d be there to hear. And you lost count of the amount of pies you baked him. But none of that ever worked. Sometimes you’d get some harmless flirting, but to him you were just his best friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

(Six months after meeting)

You had gotten up extra early that day to make sure you had time to go to the grocery store and get back before Dean ever woke up. You had everything planned out, he would wake up, come downstairs, see his favorite pie baked just for him and then fall madly in love with you. Yeah, maybe you were a bit delusional, but you could always hope right?

You were too busy making sure the crust was perfectly crisp to hear Dean walk into the kitchen. “What are you doing?” Dean asked, chest pressed up against your back. To flustered to answer right away, you moved to the side so he could peak over your shoulder.

“I’m um-I’m making you something.” Watching his eyes light as he saw what you made was enough to make your day.

“All for me?”

“Well yeah, I just got bored. Not a big deal really.” You tried to play it off like you didn’t just spend five hours slaving over a damn pie. “You like cherry right?” You asked, obviously already knowing the answer.

“It’s my favorite, you’re amazing sweetheart.” Dean smiled placing a small kiss on your temple before rushing to get a plate. Most would think that was progress that he was beginning to like you. But no, that’s just Dean and his natural charm.  

I might be a faded Polaroid Trying to be something that I have never been

As years went on, you became less and less involved in Dean’s life. Usually he would visit every couple months with John and Sam, but even that didn’t happen anymore. John started sending him on cases by himself, so you only got to see him two, maybe three times a year. Sometimes you’d talk to him though, on the off chance you got the courage to call him. If you did it at just the right time, you would talk for hours about anything you could think of. But you didn’t always get that lucky.

(Y/n 18, Dean 19)

You and your father had just gotten home from dinner. Bobby thought it would be a good idea to try the new diner that had just opened up in town. You knew from the second you tried their bacon cheeseburger that you had to tell Dean all about. As soon as you got home, you rushed up to your room, grabbing the phone on the way.

Plopping down on the bed, you looked over checking the time. It was almost 8pm where Dean was. It was late enough that he wouldn’t be busy with the case, but there was a high possibility he was busy with his...for the lack of a better word, ‘friends’.

Sighing, you decided to try anyway. What’s the worst that could happen?

“Hello?” Dean answered, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Hey Dean!” You answered excited. Expecting his voicemail, you were happily surprised.

“Hey sweetheart, I’m kind of busy right now.” He grunted through the phone, clearly shuffling around.

“Oh, well this will be quick. I wanted to tell you about that diner we saw last time you were here.” You hoped maybe he’d stop for a minute to talk, but it was then you heard what he was busy with.

“Are you almost done?” A female voice giggled in the background. Your heart immediately dropped. You knew there was a chance this would happen, calling him so late. But you didn’t think it really would.

“Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Before he couple say anything, you hung up. As tears started to run down your face, you came to a realization. If you ever wanted him to love you, you needed to change. To become the kind of girl he likes.

If I was dancing on the tables Buying rounds ‘til the dawn Is that wild enough, wild enough Wild enough for you? Talking dirty in the bedroom Be the one to start a fight Would that be wild enough Wild enough for you?

The next time Dean came around, saying you got his attention was an understatement. You were acting different. You were dressing different. You were trying to dress like the girls you always saw Dean ogling at. Tight shirts, short shorts, even shorter dresses. You had never felt so uncomfortable in your life, but when you saw the way Dean looked at you, it made it worth it. His gaze stayed on you a little longer than usual, he didn’t hide the fact that he was trying to be around you more. One of the nights he was there, he even invited you out to the local bar.

(Y/n 19, Dean 20)

“I thought this was supposed to be a challenge?” You asked Dean with a smirk after slamming down what felt like the hundredth shot that night. You weren’t going to lie, you were drunk and you hated the taste every single thing he bought you, but you’d be damned if you showed that.

“Damn, you’ve been holding back on me.” Dean laughed taking a small sip of his drink.

“Something like that.” You grumbled to yourself peaking over at the dance floor. You couldn’t dance, but you were drunk so that gave you a pass, right? “We should dance!”

Dean looked at you like you were crazy, “Come again?”

“Let’s dance!” You jumped up grabbing his arm. “Please Dean, it’ll be fun!”

“Sorry to break it to ya sweetheart, but I don’t dance.”

Rolling your eyes, you began to get mad. You did not go through all this just for him to say no. “So you’re just going to let me go out there alone, dressed like this, surrounded by all those guys?” You motioned to your outfit as you spoke. Sadly a small black sundress was the only revealing thing you owned, but it did its job.

“You’re evil you know that?” Dean smirked at you as he got up and followed you to the dance floor. You spent a good twenty minutes swaying your hips to the music before Dean left you to go to the restroom. He was worried about leaving you out there, he had been watching all the men around watching you. But he was not about to piss himself over a little paranoia.

Dean didn’t plan on taking as long as he did, but the bartender had other plans for him. As he walked back out of the bathroom and towards where you were, he saw the last thing he ever wanted to see.

There you stood, drunk off your ass dancing away. And although that didn’t bother him, it was the men around you and their greedy little hands that set him over the edge. Rushing over to you, he carefully grabbed you off the table before anyone else could touch you.

“Touch her again and I’ll kill you.” Dean growled as he began dragging you out of the bar. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“You were taking too long and it looked fun.” You giggled as he pushed you into the impala.

“That’s fun to you? Acting like some whore?” He snapped as he started off down the road towards your house.

“A whore? Are you serious?” You were beyond pissed now, you were his perfect girl and it still wasn’t good enough. “I’m doing all of this for you!”

Dean scoffed ignoring you. He thought you were just drunk, saying stupid things because you were out of it. You didn’t say another word the entire way home. You just wanted to go lay in your bed and pretend like none of it ever happened.

“Dean please just calm down.” You said softly as he grabbed you out of the impala again, but this time in his arms.

“All of this was a bad idea.” He grumbled, “The drinking, the dancing, taking you to the bar in the first place.”

“It wasn’t a bad idea!” You exclaimed, “We had fun, it was fun!” It was almost like you were trying to convince yourself. It was awful, you hated almost everything about tonight.

“I get what you were trying to do, but you got to stop.” Dean laid you down on your bed and sat down next you.

“Why?” You didn’t even try to hide to desperation in your voice, you didn’t care to.

“Sweetheart, I know you don’t think I have, but I’ve noticed what you’ve been doing.” Dean started, staring down at you. You could see the pity in his eyes and that just made you feel worse. “I’ve noticed how you’ve been changing, all the things you’ve been doing to get my attention.”

“It was working! Come on just give me another chance! I can be like them Dean, I can do what they do.” You attempted to get up, but he pushed you lightly back down. Looking down at you sadly, he ran a hand through your hair.

“I don’t want you to be like them. I want you to be you.” The two of you stared at each other for a while before the tears in your eyes finally started to fall.

“Why won’t you love me?” You whispered as you slowly dozed off staring at him.

“You have no idea sweetheart.”

To your major I’m minor Breaking every single chord you play I’m sweet wine but you want whiskey I wish I could be strong enough

That was the last time you saw Dean for another year and a half. He never visited and he made sure to never call and you didn’t even know why. When you woke up after that night you didn’t remember anything that happened. Which to be honest, was probably a good thing. Deep down you knew he was avoiding you, but you kept telling yourself that he was busy, that his dad was just sending him on more cases than usual.

(Y/n 20, Dean 21)

“Y/n, Come here!” Your father, Bobby called from the kitchen. “The boys are here honey, why don’t you go help them bring their things in.”

The Winchester’s had come to visit a couple times this year, but this time was important to you. Dean was coming with, you hadn’t seen him in almost two years. Something always got in the way, whether it was a case or another hunter needed help and John sent him. This time though you made John promise that Dean would be there.

“Hey Sammy.” You greeted the giant seventeen year old. Sam Winchester was your best friend. In the beginning, it didn’t take long to realize that you were two were going to get along. You both enjoyed the same things and had all the same interests. Whether it was a book series or games or movies. He was the person you always went to with your problems, he was the only one you told about your feelings for Dean.

“Hey Y/n/n.” The boy gave you a quick hug and a sad smile before walking to grab his bag. That confused you, he was always excited when he came to visit. Blowing it off, you went to greet John, who wore the same sad smile. Looking around, your heart dropped as your realized what was wrong. Dean wasn’t there.

“Hey kiddo.” John came over wrapping you up in his arms. The man knew your feelings for his eldest son. You weren’t exactly subtle when it came to Dean. You only ever asked about him, if he was okay, was he coming to visit, where he was.

“He working a case?” You asked as John let you go and walked to unpack the truck.

“Yeah right,” Sam growled under his breath. “He bailed to go see some chick in Illinois.”

“Samuel!” John scolded his son. He knew you were already sad enough, there was no need to make it worse.

“It’s alright John.” You faked a smile to make him feel better. You could tell he felt bad. “Sammy and I can have just as much fun without him, right Sam?”

“Of course.”

Hours later, after a very interesting dinner and some board games with Sam, you found yourself lying in bed staring at the ceiling. The night was fun, more fun than you had in a long time. Dinner was hilarious and the board games were even more so, but you couldn’t help but feel…sad? You weren’t sure what you were feeling. A mix of everything. Sadness, guilt, disappointment. You had been waiting so long to see Dean, you didn’t know what to do now that he wasn’t.

Dean really didn’t want anything to do with you. The longer you sat and thought, the more you began to realize that. He never tried to contact you, ever. And it wasn’t like he just didn’t want to talk to anyone. You could hear him talking to Bobby at least once a week.

The sound of your phone ringing was what finally brought you out of your thoughts. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at whoever thought it was a good idea to call at two in the morning.

“Hello?” You grumbled falling back on your pillow.

“Hey sweetheart, heard you missed me?” The sound of his voice sent a feeling of panic through you. You had been waiting to talk to him for a long time. Planning everything you wanted to say and yell. And now that the time was here, it was like you forgot everything you wanted to say.

“D-Dean?”

“Now before you get mad, I need you to liste-“

It didn’t take long before you got your voice back, and began interrogating him. “I’m not mad, I just want to know what’s been going on. Where have you been? Why haven’t you been answering?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?! Dean why haven’t you been answering my calls or my texts? What happened?” You began to get angry, your voice rising with each word you spoke.

“You don’t remember.” Dean muttered to himself. You tried to calm down, there was no reason to get angry.

“You’re talking about the night at the bar? What happened that night?” You were practically begging to know.

“Um, nothing. Nothing happened.”

“Dean Winchester, I swear to god…what the hell happened that night?”

“Nothing Y/n, honestly. It was just a funny night.” You knew Dean was lying. You knew something happened that night, but it wasn’t worth causing more drama by calling him out on it. “I just called to say I’m sorry, I’ve been really busy.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure.”

Dean was silent, he could tell by your tone that someone had told you where he was. Knowing it was probably Sam trying to get back at him, he cursed to himself. “I’m sorry Y/n, I just thought you wouldn’t mind waiting a little longer to see me.”

“Yeah Dean, its fine. I’m just glad you’re okay.” Deep down, you wanted to yell and scream at him and tell him how much he hurt you, but you couldn’t. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t risk losing him.

Yeah, I bet you fantasize about somebody else  Someone that would fulfill your needs

After that phone call, you and Dean called and talked all night, every night until he came to visit again. It was the best week you had in a long time. Happiest you’ve been in a long time and you were pretty sure Dean could tell. But you couldn’t help but think about the girl from Illinois. As far as you knew, you were the only girl Dean had ever went out of the way to see and knowing he did it for someone else, made you feel funny. You knew what jealousy felt like, but this was different. You felt…defeated. Broken.

(Y/n 20, Dean 21)

You genuinely thought that the night you called Dean and he was with someone would be the worst night of your life, you were wrong. After an hour of laying on the couch, staring at the ceiling listing to Dean go on and on about Lisa, this was officially the worst time of your life.

“She’s amazing. Y/n you don’t understand, she perfect in like every way, and don’t even get me started on the sex.” Dean smirked, thinking back to the two weeks he spent with Lisa. You genuinely didn’t think that anything could hurt worse than past situations involving Dean, but god were you wrong. Every time he would rant and rave about something else about her, you would realize it was something that you did or something you had. And somehow, during the hour that you had laid and listened to him, you couldn’t figure out, if you have everything she does, why was she so much better than you. Why did he like her more, “You just don’t understand Y/n, you’ve never been in love.”

And that’s when you lost it.

“Oh shut the hell up! I’ve been in love.” You yelled, shooting up off the couch ready to take his head off if it came to it.

“Oh yea, who?” Dean challenged you with a smirk. He knew exactly who it was, he just wanted to hear what bull you came up with this time.

“You! I’m in love with you!” You couldn’t hold it in anymore and as terrifying as it was to finally say it, it was so relieving. It felt like a thousand pounds had finally been lifted off your shoulders.

Dean froze. He thought you’d never say it, sure he knew it. He’s known it since almost the very beginning, but to actually hear you say it…it was different.

“I’ve been in love with you since I was sixteen years old and I am done!” Taking a step closer to him you could feel all the anger and all the sadness from everything you’ve put yourself through because of him start to surface. “I am done waiting for you. I am done sitting around and waiting for you to love me back. For four years, I have sat in this house thinking of every possible way to make you love me. I have changed myself in the worse ways possible, I have made me HATE myself just so I could be the kind of girl you would love. And you know what I got? I got hours of listening to you rant and rave about a different girl every other day. I got months of just wishing and crying that maybe this time he’ll call me, maybe this time he’ll want to see me, but no. You only call and you only come to visit when you’re lonely or you’re bored and can’t find some girl pathetic enough to spend time with you.”

“Y/n…”

“NO!” You yelled finally done with his shit. “I am done. I am done being the girl that waits for you. I am done being the girl that changes herself for someone else. It might be hard, but I don’t care. I am better than this, I deserve better. I deserve someone who will love me back, someone who will love me for who I am.”

“Y/n I do love you…I didn’t want you in this life. I wanted to keep you safe.” Dean tried to speak, tried to make you understand, and although it shocked the hell out of you, you couldn’t find yourself to care.

“You could have told me that. But instead you left me alone, you made the decision to not say anything. I know it’s going to be hard, but I deserve better. I might be in love with you, but I am done Dean Winchester.”

But I bet it’s never been this good with anyone else  There is so much you haven’t seen in me

 Ever since you were younger, you knew your life was different from everyone around you. You weren’t allowed to go play at parks, or have sleepovers, and you definitely were allowed to have friends over to your house. You knew that since your mother passed, your dad had always been scared of something. You didn’t know what that something was until you were fourteen and a demon tried to take you from your dad. You still don’t know why he wanted you, what he was going to do to you, but from then on, part of you understood why you were hardly allowed to leave the house.

But something changed after your argument with Dean. You didn’t want the life that everyone around you had. You wanted to be able to make friends, go to school, get a real job! All the things your dad kept you from doing for your “safety”. You no longer had anything holding you back. You knew your dad would be here whenever you wanted to come back, whether that was for a visit or to stay forever.

And although your dad was terrified, he wanted you to have the most “normal” life you could. He didn’t want to see you sulking on his living room couch anymore. He was ready for the end of the day phone calls he always got from the boys, he was ready for the Sunday dinners, and even the boyfriends, and hopefully one day, a family of your own. He wanted all that for you.

It only took six months for you to get on your feet. You got a small apartment in the heart of Sioux Falls, a decent paying job at the diner in town. You were even registered for classes at the local college. You didn’t know what you wanted to do entirely, but you knew you wanted to help people. And so more or less, you were ready for whatever life had in store for you next. You were ready to move on…no matter how much you missed him.

[alienonthis3arth]

Soooo I wrote an arranged marriage/royalty AU snippet for 1917 😬 

“I just feel so alone right now and I don’t know if you care or not.”

- Unknown

Tom hated this place. He’d been in Shryshin almost two cold and long months now and yet was still no closer to knowing William any better than he had the moment they’d met.

Par for the course, he supposed.

Sighing, he pulled his great ceremonial overcoat tighter around himself as he continued on his path toward the palace gardens. The weather here was colder this time of year than he was used to in his own land. The only real clothing he had to combat it was the stupid thing he was wearing now—annoyingly more formal than functional despite its thickness. All his other clothes were made of fine, thin (sometimes even translucent) materials meant to entice his new spouse. His father, whether out of one last act of malice or naivety that Tom’s new home would provide adequate clothing, had only allowed such garments to be brought along in his two trunks of personal belongings. Bastard.

The wind picked up again, forcing a shiver from him. Light-pink cherry blossom petals swirled in the wind and landed in a nearby large, wonky u-shaped pond. It was there he laid eyes upon the prince—husband not a word he felt comfortable using yet, no matter how true—who was leaning against a great willow tree on the other side of the water, a gilded book open in his large hand.

Before he realized what he was doing, he’d left the path and headed over to him, his sandalled feet tickled by the long, dewey grass.  

William startled and looked up at him just as he was a mere few strides away. “Thomalyn? Is something the matter?”

He forced a smile and bowed as was proper with royalty you weren’t well acquainted with. “No. Just thought I’d pop out for a stroll when I saw you. Hope I’m not intruding.”

William looked at him, his brow raised, eyes searching like he was assessing the validity of his statement. He scowled. Screw him for wanting to get to know his supposed spouse, eh?

“Never mind, it was rude of me, I’ll leave you to—“

“No!” Tom blinked, taken aback by the sudden outburst. William looked away, his cheekbones a dusty rose colour now. “Er, no, it’s okay. Please, there’s enough room on the blanket, you can sit with me. If you’d like, that is.”

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Tom immediately sat, deciding that across from him was the best course of action, not too far, not too close, just as William seemed to like his social interactions.

As William went back to reading his book, Tom inspected its emerald cloth cover. The words adorning it where gold and in the Shryshinian language, that much he could tell, the characters an interesting assortment of unconnected swirls and sloped lines, as opposed to the jagged but interlaced ones of his own tongue. Still, despite his ability to recognize Shryshinian and his sufficient handle in speaking it—just having a rather ‘interesting’ accent, he’d been told—he couldn’t read it very well yet, much to his own father’s great shame when he’d bartered him off like chattel. Stupid git.

“Whatchya reading?”

Without looking up, he told him: a book of poetry by the greatest in their land.

Boring.

“A normal habit of yours?” he said, gesturing to, well, William’s whole thing he had going on.

“It… used to be.” He looked pained to say it, like the very words—or having to say them to Tom, specifically—was an unappealing act.

“Oh. Uh, why not?”

“Don’t really have the time.”

“Yeah. Makes sense, I guess. Kingdom to help lead and all that.”

William shrugged, his gaze already locked back on his dusty old book.

He rolled his eyes. Ahhh, true love.

They sat in the shade of the willow tree like this, William reading and Tom surveying everything in sight while trying hard to either not shiver too much or spout his mouth off, for what felt like an eternity before he could no longer fight the need to do something, anything, but sit in the painfully stagnant quiet with someone who didn’t even want him there.

He stood, startling the prince once again. “Sorry, your Highness,” he said with another bow. “I best be off. I don’t want to be of anymore disturbance.” With that, he turned around and left, heading back toward his own chambers. At least it’d be warm there and—though he wouldn’t dare crack them open just yet—books he could actually read.  

“Thomalyn—wait.”

He ignored him, picking up his pace and cutting across the lawn, his chin held high. William grumbled something under his breath as he was left behind. Served him right, now he knew how it felt.

Unfortunately, William was (annoyingly) taller and spry on his feet, so he soon caught up, his large hand shooting out and gripping his wrist. Before Tom had time to yell at him for being such a brute, he was on the ground, his tread-less sandals and sudden awkward position causing him to slip against the wet grass.

“Ow.”

William filled his vision, his eyes large and frantic as his hands flitted around Tom, trying to figure out how badly he’d been injured.

“G’off, I’m fine. I’m fine,” he grumbled, slapping away his hands and picking himself up. His arse hurt something fierce, and his pride, but he wouldn’t admit it. Not to William who already thought him a baby.

“Are you sure-?”

“Yes.” He brushed a bit of grass off his overcoat, barely containing a cringe as a sudden deep pain shot through the wrist of the hand he’d caught himself on.

“I’m really sorry, Thoma—“

“I know. It was an accident. It’s fine. Really.”

William bit his lip, his fists clenching as he seemed to wrestle with something inside himself.

Tired of waiting around for the prince to get his act together, he continued on back to his primary goal: getting away from William and getting warm.

“It’s hard for me.”

Tom stopped.

“I find conversing… difficult. I never know what people want me to say and when I do say something I feel I just make things worse.”

He turned to William. His eyes were wide, sincere in a way he hadn’t seen from the man before. It was almost enough for Tom to take pity on him, but one little glimpse of the heart within—no matter how juicy—was not enough to erase two months of cold, detached impassivity. Neither of them wanted to be in this situation, which was exactly why they should’ve been trying to make the best of it, not pretending the other wasn’t more than a mere ghost.

“Not a very good trait for a would-be king.”

A moment, then a small smile graces his lips. “You’re not what I expected.”

Now it was Tom’s turn to smile. “I never am.”

[lokisgame]

Wild Wild West [3]

[part 1] [part 2]

Mulder was shaving when a soft knock on the connecting doors sounded over the local news and soon, Scully stood leaning on the bathroom doorframe. “Hey,” she said smiling, arms folded over her chest. The v-neck t-shirt she wore did interesting things when she breathed in. They should have discussed the two room situation earlier, because it was only their first night and already Mulder was starting to regret it. "Sleep well?" He asked, turning back to the mirror, before she caught him staring. "I guess," she said with another distracting sigh, “it's weird to wake up without any plans." "We can make some, if it helps," he chuckled rinsing the razor, "6:30, morning workout, 7:30 showers; 8:15 breakfast." Scully glanced at her watch and said, "It's 9:30." "Damn, good thing no one’s watching." "We'll do better next time," she said, handing him the towel. "But seriously, you did all that?" "Not breakfast," he said, wiping his face, "thought I'd let you sleep in." "Thanks." "I found a diner though, you hungry?" "Starving." "Not on my watch." He said, smiling and went around her to find a t-shirt.

The diner was quite busy, but they managed to find a booth and were waiting for their order. All rituals were observed, from Scully's remarks about his cholesterol intake, his teasing about her missing some crucial pleasures in life, all the way to the waitress fluttering her eyelashes at Mulder and being completely ignored, because he managed to goad Scully into ordering pancakes. He sipped coffee, leaning back and looking around the place. Just another coastal diner, with fishing nets and trophies for decor, and fish in the breakfast menu. It felt almost like home, his childhood. "What is it?" Scully said, and he shook the thought off, taking another sip from his mug. "Nothing, good coffee." She wasn't fooled though, leaning on the table, bringing him back to here and now, radiating concern. "Is it the case?" "No," he said, "I was thinking about the Vineyard." She relaxed, resting her chin on the heel of her hand. "What was it like?" "Something like this, though back then, I didn't pay attention to tourists." "Dad used to take us out for breakfast on Saturdays to a place like this, when he was home." "We had Sunday lunches, at a restaurant with white cloth napkins and manners, but there was a diner too when I got older, very much like this one." "Milkshakes with your first girlfriend?" Mulder laughed, surprised, "what makes you think that?" "Wild guess," she laughed with him, blushing slightly. "Or projection, admit it," he leaned on the table, moving closer, "your first date was in a place like this." "Well, sure, which can be said about most kids who grew up in the 70's." "You held hands drinking a milkshake from one glass," he prowled on, ignoring her, "two cherries sitting on top of mountain of whipped cream." Scully laughed, just as the waitress came with their breakfast, and Mulder finally looked up at her, his smile brilliant. "We'll have a milkshake as well." The girl beamed back. "One?" "Yes, two straws." "Mulder!" Scully faked outrage, but the girl nodded and went away, smile fading fast. "You broke her heart," she said, picking a strawberry from the fruit salad. He looked up puzzled, and Scully jerked her chin after the waitress. "Eat your pancakes," he sighed and went back to buttering his toast.

They took the long way back to the motel, picking up snacks for the beach and looking around. They passed an ice cream parlour, couple of gift shops, a pharmacy, liquor store, all within walking distance from their motel, a two story building with a view. Their rooms on the upper floor looked out at the ocean, practically on the other side of the road. Mulder, knocked gently on the connecting doors and when Scully said "come in," he pushed them open, peeking inside. "Ready to go?" He asked and paused. She was standing by the bed, facing away from the door, fixing the hat in the mirror. The dress she wore was held up by thin straps, its' back cut low to show off pale skin and slender shoulders, before it fell gently over her curves and ended and inch above her knees. Emerald green tropical leaves wound around her bod and the skirt flared when she turned to face him. The front was a deep V, trimmed with black lace. "Mulder?" She said and stepped closer, smile in her voice. It took him a second to realise his mouth was hanging open, then another to gather his thoughts because he noticed the sandals laced around her ankles. "You look," he paused searching for the right word, none of them good enough, "great." "It's the hat," she grinned, touching the brim, "thanks." "Anytime," he said, taking a deep breath and leaned on the doorframe to watch her gather her things. "I don't think I ever saw you this casual." Scully laughed. "Get used to it, because I'm not wearing anything else till we're back in D.C." "I can live with that, but I liked the shorts too, don't forget about those." She chuckled, giving him the eyebrow. "You really are spooky, noticing everything." "Photographic memory," and thank God for it. "You done?" "Yes, let's go." He took the bag from her, for once without protest, and with hand on the small of her back led her through the door. The dress and the straps holding up her bikini top matched.

The short walk was enough to get his head straight enough to take in the view. The ocean was calm. Small waves washed over the shore, cool breeze tickled their skin and white sand stretched out before them, and for the first time in years he felt home again. Scully caught up to him, and when hand sneaked under his arm he glanced down. Her eyes were closed and she took a deep breath, shoes dangling in one hand. The sand was fine and cool and her touch was warm and soft. "Don't you just love that?" She said, meeting his eyes, and he gave up trying to be eloquent. "Yeah." "C'mon, let's find a place, you want to go left or right?" "Right," he said, still dazed and she laughed. "Okay," Scully said and went ahead, then added, "I thought it would be more crowded." "Maybe everybody's still sleeping." "I hope not, I like it this way." He let her lead and pick a spot, watching as fought the sand, yielding under her small feet for some good 100 yards and once they left the first wave of tourists behind, she turned and stopped. "Here," she declared, dropping her shoes as if planting her flag. Close to water, away from people, with the cover of a grassy dune behind. "Perfect." They began unpacking and Mulder was spreading towels on the sand when a hat landed on his head. "Hold this for me," she said and when he looked up, Scully was pulling the dress up and away. The bikini did match the colour of the dress and she looked even better than he imagined. Flaring hips, slim waist, toned stomach, perfect breasts, red hair on fire bobbing around her face. If his mind was in the gutter, the gutter was Louvre and she was Venus heading back into the ocean. "I'll be right back!" She said cheerfully and walked away, taking her gorgeous legs and back and ass, her perfect everything, leaving him sitting there with his heart pounding. Two days ago they were poking around minds of killers and now he was sitting on the sand, and she was waist deep in water. His best friend, who knew him through and through, his every quirk, every stupid joke, every wound, nightmare and fear. Beautiful beyond wildest dreams, wearing a hat he bought her, and a smile he put on her face. He was in love.

Ten minutes later, when he stripped and found the suntan lotion, she was back. "It's heavenly." She said, picking up a towel to dry herself. "You should go in too." "In a minute, could you?" He said, holding up the tube and turning away. "Sure." She crawled over to his towel and touched his back, making him cringe away. "Cold!" "Sorry." The cold hand vanished for a second then came back, sliding over his shoulders. "I couldn't resist it," she said, gently rubbing the lotion in, "I can't remember when was the last time I swam in the ocean." "Neither do I," he said, closing his eyes as she moved down. "I guess we are workaholics." "No, we're not. Now turn around." He did, and she was sitting on her heels, hat on her head, squirting a little drop of something white on her finger. Then she took his chin in one hand and started spreading the lotion over his nose and cheek bones. "Why don't you have a hat?" She admonished, her eyes crossed adorably. "I do, it's in the bag somewhere." "Well, it should be on your head." "Yes ma'am." He smiled and she was done. "There, you're good to go. Do my back for me?" "I thought you'll never ask." She turned and found her sunglasses, then leaned forward, knees drawn up, toes digging in sand. The slope of shoulders and curve of her back was broken only by the green spaghetti straps of the bikini top. "You're staring again," she said with a smile. "Am not," he said, totally busted, "where's that nuclear grade stuff." "On your face, I want to catch a little tan." "What about freckles?" "What about them?" "Nothing?" "You don't like freckles?" She teased. "I love freckles," on you especially. "Good," she said and he shut up. He rubbed the lotion over her skin, feeling it warm up. "I stopped fighting them when I turned eighteen," she said, "I just don't want to get burned." Then aded after a beat, "you probably never had that problem, you always look so healthy." "Thanks," he chuckled and handed her the bottle. "Done." "Thanks," she said, but he was already up, heading for the water, and the beach equivalent of a cold shower.

[rwbyremnants]

WARNING: Pain and scarification, urine.

NOTE: Welcome to 2020! Time to keep this Freezerburn train a-rollin'!

=Chapter 11

Shopkeeper’s went dead silent the moment Weiss entered with the Belladonnas. It was a lot emptier than usual to begin with; most tables were empty, and Ilia wasn’t buzzing around. Blake was probably relieved about that. Meanwhile, Vernal and the pair of older women at one of the tables gave them a nasty look when they saw the platinum-haired girl in their midst again.

“Well, well,” Cinder called out harshly from their usual corner. Emerald was there, sipping at a glass, but the others were nowhere to be found. “You’re a bigger idiot than I thought.”

“Enough,” said Kali, and Cinder fell silent, not having expected the older woman to address her. “She’s going straight through to the boss.”

The smouldering eyes flew wide. After a moment, she stood up and approached the three, who were now closer to the center of the establishment. “Want me to take her?”

“Please.”

“Got it.” Now, Cinder seemed to be playing her emotions close to the chest, whereas her hostility had been open and raw a moment before. Her eyes were calculating, moving between Weiss and the two Italian Dragons on either side of her. “I’ll… go ask. What should I tell her?”

“That she wishes to be tested.”

“Alright.”

With that, Cinder slipped into the back room. The instant she was gone, Blake moved to sit with Emerald, and Kali turned Weiss just enough so that she could catch hold of her shoulders. The leather jacket looked a little strange on top of the pretty dress, but also somehow suited the older woman. Weiss would have to remember that combination for the future.

“Remember what I told you,” she said in a gentle voice. “It’s going to seem worse than it is. Just… bite your tongue when you feel the desire to shoot your mouth off, and keep to ‘Yes, High Dragon’ and ‘No, High Dragon’ as often as you can. If you do anything stupid, I’ll try to intercede on your behalf before you get roughed up, but try not to need me to in the first place. I won’t be going in with you, and until you prove yourself, you can’t count on Cinder to watch your back since she still thinks you’re a stoolie.”

“I’ll be careful,” she promised her with a sober nod. “I promise.”

“Alright.” Her lips pressed into Weiss’s forehead, and she sighed at the minimal comfort they provided. “Good luck. Be smart.”

It only took another minute or so for Cinder to ease the door open and say, “She’ll see you now.”

The back room was quite smoky, compared with the front room which was always smoke-free. Weiss coughed, not used to breathing in more than the occasional wisp of her father’s cigars. Several booths lined the smaller room, and in the very back corner was the shadowy figure she had glimpsed before, enshrouded in her cloak as always.

“Sit,” Salem ordered. Weiss sat across from her. “Cinder tells me you sought an audience.”

“Yes, High Dragon.”

A quiet hum of appreciation came from the shadows, and she saw Cinder nodding where she stood by the table out of the corner of her eye. But she didn’t make the mistake of letting herself get distracted; Kali had told her to keep her full attention on Salem at all times. Along with a lot of other things that she secretly hoped would never come into play… and that she didn’t forget them if they were needed.

“You have manners, after all. Now, what brings you here? Being tested? Do you understand what that means?”

“Yes, High Dragon. I wish to… apologise for what happened, and to explain. And b-be tested if it please you.”

“I don’t enjoy tall tales. You have one minute.”

So Weiss crammed her story into a single minute. She was still explaining what she had shouted at her father after he slapped her when Salem held up a pale hand to silence her. In the low lighting, she could tell it was yet paler than her own skin - almost completely devoid of any pigment at all. But she couldn’t see it for long enough to tell for certain before the hand withdrew into the shadows again.

“Very well. You stood in defiance and he struck you, and struck us. I expected no less of Jacques Schnee.”

“You know my father?”

“Not intimately. Only by reputation.” She produced a cigarette on a stem, and Cinder immediately leapt to light it for her, the Zippo seeming to come from nowhere. After a puff or two, she breathed a cloud in Weiss’s face, and she couldn’t help coughing. “Poor baby.”

“Sorry, High Dragon,” she gagged.

“You expect me to believe this fish story?”

“It is the truth. I… wish anything else had happened.”

“Then you are willing to submit to my test?”

The possibilities flashed through Weiss’s mind. Kali had told her about all of them, and while she despised some of the notions even more than the others, the idea of Yang and the rest of the Dragons never believing her was much worse. “I am, High Dragon. If it please you.”

“Very well. Cinder… fetch the box.”

With a clipped bow, Cinder went into a door leading off from the back of the back room. Though she didn’t take her eyes off the end of Salem’s glowing cigarette, her mind wandered to how the brunette Dragon was behaving. This was a level of obedience she didn’t even think Cinder was capable of. She never seemed to care much what anyone else thought or felt. Apparently, the boss truly commanded her respect in ways no one else could.

“Here, High Dragon,” she said as she set the small wooden chest down in the booth bench next to Salem.

“Thank you.” She flipped the top of the chest open and began to rummage around the inside. “Hmm… not today. I never use this on girls her age. That one is interesting…”

Gulping, Weiss finally did spare a glance at Cinder, and saw she was completely at ease. Not darkly excited to see her be tortured, but neither was she worried about Weiss at all. She was doing her job; a consummate professional.

“Here. Yes, I really feel this is the right way to go.”

When she looked to the tabletop, she saw Salem’s ghostly hand laying down a small metal implement. It was a branding iron, if Weiss didn’t miss her guess. The bottom of her stomach fell even further. Though it was not the worst of the possibilities Kali had told her about on the drive over - which she had seemingly given a miss due to her age - it was definitely not the least worrisome, either.

“Yes, High Dragon. Where…” She had to swallow down her fear, forcing her voice to be as steady as she could. “Where… will you…?”

“Ooh, brave girl,” she chuckled, motioning for Cinder to take it. She did, and flicked her lighter again, holding the flame on the business end of the brand. “That is the question, isn’t it? Where will you let me mark you forever?”

“I wouldn’t presume to tell you, High Dragon.”

“I’m asking. Where would you prefer it?”

It didn’t take Weiss much time to think. “M-my back, somewhere. I think.”

“Hmm. That ashamed to see your pretty skin has been disfigured, are we? It already has been once.” The finger that lashed out to slide down the scar below her left eye was gone an instant after it appeared, not even giving Weiss enough time to flinch until afterward. “Very well. I think I should like you to come around here by me.”

As Weiss rounded the table, the mysterious woman moved the chest so that Weiss could sit. Then she put a hand in the middle of Weiss’s back. At first, she was confused, but the gentle pressure got her to bend over the table, knees resting on the bench.

“Good. I’ve made my decision, and I know what my target should be.” As the hand pressed her into the table a little harder, she asked, “You are aware of the consequences if you resist?”

“Yes, High Dragon.” Kali had told her; if she panicked and ran away, or otherwise interrupted the test, she would prove herself a coward and they would either have to start over, or she would simply never be trusted again, depending on Salem’s mood. It was not wise to challenge that mood at all.

But she felt sorely tempted to challenge when she felt a hand hiking her skirt up, tucking it into the collar of her sweater. She couldn’t help but let out a quiet “No” when she felt the fingers wrapping around the waistband of her panties.

“What was that?” Salem asked mildly.

“N-nothing, High Dragon,” she promised her.

“Good.” The underwear was yanked down - probably more violently due to her involuntary protest. A hand ghosted over one of her bare cheeks. Weiss had never felt her heart race this fast in her entire life, not even all those times Yang had kissed her. This was fear without any of the excitement, any guilty anticipation. Pure dread. “Are you right-handed or left-handed?”

“Left,” she told her.

“This one, then.” It was the left cheek already. “Cinder, is it ready?”

“Almost, High Dragon.” The flame from the lighter wasn’t big enough to have heated the hot poker yet.

“Here,” Salem said, pressing a leather cuff against Weiss’s mouth. When she only looked at her in confusion, she added, “To bite down on. Or don’t you want it?”

“Yes, High Dragrphhh,” she said as it was slid between her teeth. She hated to think about where the leather had been - or what it had been used for.

“Good girl. Cinder, show her.”

Then the brand was displayed to her eyes, glowing cherry red a few inches away so she could feel the warmth pouring off it in waves. The brand design was a very small version of the Asian dragon that graced the backs of their jackets. No letters, no other finery; only the dragon itself. After a second or two, Cinder took it away again, and the shadow of the image was still burned into her vision temporarily.

“Are you ready? A nod will do.” Weiss nodded, and Salem patted the small of her back as Cinder went back to heating it to make sure it was ready. “Now… do you swear to me that everything you have told me is the truth?” Another nod. “Do you swear loyalty to the Dragons above all others, including family, country, and other rival organizations?” Though she wanted to protest, she knew better than to openly defy Salem - especially under these circumstances. So she nodded again. “Do you swear to uphold our traditions, our ideals, and never to betray one of us to an outside party?” Another nod - and she hoped Salem couldn’t tell that her cheeks were clenching.

“Very well. Weiss Schnee, I hereby mark you as one of our own.”

It was only at that moment, between the words and the following action, that Weiss fully understood the implications of what she had just done. Blue eyes pulled wide as saucers, and her breath caught fast. She hadn’t simply assured the Dragons that she harboured no ill will toward them and was not directly responsible for the raid on Junior’s.

Weiss Schnee had become a Dragon.

Then searing heat was biting into her hind-flesh, and she screamed.

Everything went blank for a few seconds, possibly minutes. When she could focus again, it was to feel a cold, wet cloth being pressed into the brand. It made her growl into the leather again, tasting her own tears that had ran down over her upper lip, but she held perfectly still.

“Good girl,” Salem purred softly, almost lovingly. “You didn’t even thrash or fall off the table. More of the girls do that than you would think, tough as they are now.”

The other hand jerked the leather free, and she saw her own teeth marks in it as it was taken away. Voice weak, she managed to mumble, “Tha… thank you, High Dragon.”

“You’re welcome.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cinder returning with a towel. “Ah, there we are. And you shouldn’t feel ashamed; better women than you have lost control when being branded. All in all, your voluntary reactions say much more about you than the involuntary ones. A true Dragon should be able to stand a little fire, and you did. Very encouraging.”

Though Weiss was confused, she felt the towel sliding across the table and patting her inner thighs and the confusion was gone. She had wet herself. Why didn’t she even remember that taking place? Shame burned in her cheeks now that she realised that had happened, and she tried to turn her face away, but the feeling of the towel grazing her unmentionable area made it impossible to escape the reality entirely.

Clearly, Salem was going to leave it to Cinder to do the clean-up work, because she was focusing on words now. “So your father decided to take it upon himself to punish us all for your indiscretion?”

“H-he did, High Dragon. I had no idea until today, when… Blake told me about the raid.”

“Mmm. A powerful man like that has the ear of the Sheriff whenever he wishes.” Salem’s fingertips drummed on the table as she felt the cold cloth being flipped over on her burn, and she hissed from the pain. “And you have his ear, typically.”

“I do. When… when I’m behaving, he…”

“You’re going to maintain that. For now. We can use it to our advantage. For example… one of our own may lose her moll.”

“Velvet?” she asked, and she heard an approving hum. “I… I w-was going to talk to him about her father, High Dragon. She shouldn’t have to… to go all the way back to Australia.”

“You’re full of pleasant surprises, Rookie. Very well. Assure him that you’re back to being his perfect little girl. Be more discreet when venturing here or out with Yang. Ask for the favour. Velvet isn’t a Dragon - not yet - but she means a great deal to Adel. I’d never begrudge one of my girls a warm bed companion. Accomplish this little task, and we’ll see what else we can do with you.”

Blushing from how forthright she was being, and also the hands still dressing the wound on her rear end, Weiss thought about that. Maybe Salem wasn’t as cruel as she had been led to believe. Then again, she had just branded her, so the truth was probably that she was both cruel and kind in equal measure.

“So then you believe me, High Dragon?”

“I didn’t say that. I’m willing to give you the benefit of a doubt, because you put yourself through this initiation. More hazing will likely come from the others. Trust is something you build, not a single decision.”

“Yes, High Dragon. Thank you.”

“You must really love my Baby Dragon.”

“What?”

“Yang,” she clarified as Cinder finally tugged her underwear back into place. She could feel some dampness near one of the leg holes and dearly hoped it was from the rag. “I have a feeling we wouldn’t be here right now if you weren’t so hopelessly devoted to her.”

Weiss cleared her throat. “Y-yes, High Dragon. I… I love her.” She was shocked at the honesty in her own voice.

“Then remember well: if you disappoint her, you’ll be disappointing me. I’m grooming her to take over the organization when I’m gone, you know. She is something like…” Salem considered for a moment. “Somewhere between a daughter and a protege. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course, High Dragon. I won’t let you down.”

“More promises. We shall see. Cinder?”

Cinder didn’t have to be told twice. As she steered the shell-shocked initiate back through the door, she grumbled, “I wish I was in Yang’s position.”

“What?” she gasped, blinking numbly. “You mean… you and I-”

“No, no,” she grunted impatiently. “Even though I guess I did finally get to rub you.” At Weiss’s shocked expression, she snapped, “Don’t be a baby. I don’t care about cleaning up your piss one way or the other; I’m joking. You need thicker skin, Princess.”

Stubbornly pushing through that topic, she said, “Then what did you mean?”

“Her position in line to be the next High Dragon. But I suppose I should be satisfied with having Salem’s trust.” Her eyes slid aside to look at Weiss. “The way you seem to now.”

“But she said she doesn’t trust me.”

“Actually, she did, but she didn’t say she mistrusts you entirely. Which is more than I could say for most stool pigeons who tried to get back into her good graces.”

“I swear, everything I said was true,” Weiss told her as they arrived at the table. Kali was already in the kitchens again, but Blake and Emerald were waiting to see what happened. “I know… I know how it seemed to you, and I understand now why you all looked like you wanted me dead in school. But all I can do is swear on a stack of Bibles that I didn’t do anything to hurt Yang, and never would!”

“Great for Yang,” Emerald scoffed. “What about the rest of us?”

“Give it a rest,” Blake sighed. “She’s been through a lot the past week. Daddy gave her a ‘love tap’.”

That silenced the green-haired girl immediately. She glanced at Cinder, who was also keeping quiet. A moment later, she stalked off toward the bar.

“Her parents weren’t any better. She gets it.”

Weiss remembered being told that Cinder had a pretty unfortunate life until this point. Maybe a history of abusive parents was a piece of that puzzle. Watching the woman order alcohol only seemed to confirm it; though she didn’t know her very well, she could guess that this topic being brought up again might drive someone to drink. After all… it did the same thing to her own mother.

“He really hit you?” Emerald asked, breaking her from her reverie.

“Yes,” she sighed, touching her cheek as the memory resurfaced. “Wasn’t the first time, but… I really thought it would never happen again. Shows what I know.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Blake cut in immediately, standing and taking up her hand. It seemed that most of her reservations about Weiss had gone away again now that she had proven herself. “You’re a teenager. We all are; we’re not supposed to be the ones controlling our emotions.”

Deflating with relief, she said, “Thank you. It’s so good to hear someone say that! Well, besides your mother.”

Emerald laughed a little, finishing off her current drink as Cinder drifted back toward the table. “Been here three times and you already have Kali fussing over you.”

“Ugh,” Blake grunted.

“It’s nice,” Weiss said earnestly. “She’s really nice. And I mean… I missed that. Having a mom.”

“Yeah,” Emerald chuckled, though it was more subdued. “I mean, my mom was alright. But I’m fine without her.”

Maybe it was an awkward question, but Weiss decided to take her chances. “Are a lot of Dragons orphans? Runaways?”

“What do you think?” Cinder snapped as she set her glass down heavily. “Good little children with loving families always join gangs, don’t they? Oh wait - that’s not how it works.”

“Lay off,” Blake said, though not harshly. “She’s one of us now.”

“That’s right.” Her eyes focused on Weiss’s and she smirked very slightly. For some reason, she knew - knew in her gut that Cinder was about to mention her losing control of her bladder while being branded. But instead, all she said was, “One of us. The princess has become a dragon.”

“I still don’t know what that means,” Weiss admitted. “I have to do more, don’t I? To complete my… training, or whatever it is.”

“I just can’t believe you did it,” Emerald said, serious for once. “Thought you would run screaming before you became a thug like us.”

Cinder surprised them by speaking up. “Well, she did it. And she was less of a yellow-belly about it than you were.”

While Emerald was sputtering in mingled surprise and indignation, Blake giggled. Then she turned back to Weiss with a small, thoughtful smile. “I’m with Emerald, though. You really surprised me today, Schnee. Knew I liked you for a reason. Have a seat.”

She started to, then felt the pull of the tape holding the bandage in place. “Um… maybe I’d better stand.”

“Then sit here.” Without further ado, she pulled Weiss down to sit on her left thigh, so that the injured area hung off the side. She yelped in mild surprise and Emerald snickered, but Blake only looped an arm around her waist for support. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

“Depends on what you mean by ‘better’! For you, clearly!”

“I could start doing this…” Her leg jogged up and down, and Weiss hissed from the mingling pain and pleasure it brought her; she stopped soon after. “But no, I’m just trying to offer you an alternative seat. Don’t forget that it’ll be a few days before you can sit down regularly.”

“What am I going to do in school?” she whispered. “I have to sit all day!”

Leaning forward on her elbows, Emerald said, “Sit on Yang’s lap instead?”

“I’ll give you a special pillow,” Cinder promised her with a smirk. “With a little hole in it. We had it made just for this reason; most girls end up with it exactly where you did. Though you might look a little ridiculous carrying it from class to class…”

“Maybe, but it’s better than being in agony, or having teachers ask why I’m still standing,” she sighed, running her fingers through her bangs and still trying not to think about being this close to Blake. For her part, at least her hands weren’t wandering any further than Weiss’s stomach and the knee draped between both of her own. “Thank you, Cinder.”

“You two look cute together.”

They all turned to see Kali standing there, wearing two oven mitts and a playful expression. Immediately, Cinder piled on, “Don’t they, Miss Belladonna? Someone should take a Polaroid.”

“My little girl is growing up,” she said in a falsely sentimental voice, wiping away an imaginary tear.

“Ughhh,” Blake sighed again, though she didn’t force Weiss from her lap. “I’m just helping her heal her Dragon brand.”

That made the woman’s smile falter. “Oh? So… she went for that test. Interesting.”

“Why?” Weiss asked.

“She must see potential in you as a Dragon. Otherwise, she would have done something else. Either painful… or…” She shrugged, folding her arms below her ample bosoms. This time, Weiss noticed Emerald waggle her eyebrows as she watched them bounce slightly. “Well, we’ve all heard the stories. Or lived through it. All things considered, this does have farther-reaching consequences, but it could have been worse.”

“Made Velvet dance for her,” Cinder remarked. “Wasn’t too bad, but Velvet wasn’t as… comfortable showing off as she is now. A little burlesque show almost left her in tears.”

“Like you did,” Blake muttered.

“I did it because she wanted me to,” Cinder insisted through her teeth. “You’re all so willing to think I’m a sadist.”

“You are! There’s no ‘think’ about it!”

“But I’m not an unfeeling monster!”

“Now, now, girls,” Kali said as she slid into the seat next to her daughter. One of her hands wound up on Weiss’s arm, offering silent comfort; she appreciated that. “No bickering or I’ll send you home without supper. And I have a fine pair of pizza pies in the oven right now.”

Instantly, they all cried, “Pizza!” Kali tittered in approval.

[lilyvzs]

CCS Hogwart’s AU (part two)

Based on @cherrycapturedwolf bulletpoint fic from that long ago Clow Kingdom’s Discord server discussion. Decided it was time to bring it back... slightly holiday themed?? @witchandhuntress @risamari @australet789

---

The young Li boy was trying to concentrate on the Potions book that was laid wide open on the desk  in front of him. Although the conscious part of his brain was by no means ready to admit it out loud, he wanted to had a head start on next year’s syllabus for the sake of being able to better help the cherry blossom girl.

Except the environment wasn’t helping. Syaoran sighed angrily as the racket from the next room reached him through the walls. He really hated spending Christmas vacations at home. It was bad enough that he had to deal with his clingy cousin’s shenanigans  at Hogwarts on a daily basis, but back in Hong Kong there were his four hyperactive sisters to add to the mix.

As if having Meiling wrapped around his neck all day wasn't bad enough, now he was being constantly fondled and squeaked at, about how cute he had grown and how adorably manly he was that it was impossible to get anything done. He shivered, fearing that one of them might have suddenly remembered his existence and decided to lead the horde in his direction. After a moment of muffled sounds confirmed that the conversation was flowing in the other room, Syaoran let go a sigh of relief.

He turned the pages absentmindedly, painfully aware of his incapability of concentrating.

It was not that the topic was hard to understand. In fact, he was a pretty decent potion maker, even outstanding, but the source of his distraction was that this last term study sessions with the Hufflepuff had inevitably linked her to the subject, and now he was rendered incapable of thinking about potion making without conjuring those fascination filled emerald eyes staring right at him. Even the book seemed to emanate a scent that reminded him of her.

All the ingredients were infused with her touch, most of the plants were harvested by her skilled hands in the greenhouse and made him think about her slender fingers digging through rich soil in herbology class. Growing and thriving under her nurturing care and devotion. She was like sunshine and water and… and he really should not be thinking about her like this.

She was a half blood for Merlin’s sake! And raised by muggles, nonetheless!!

His family would never approve… and what on earth did they need to approve, again? Syaoran bumped his forehead on the desk.

“Something wrong, baby brother?” one of his sisters peeked through the door, attracted by the soft thumping sound.

“No, I just… um…” he rubbed his forehead nervously.

“Ain’t you the cutest thing when you’re embarrassed?” she embraced him excitedly.

“I’m not! Hey! Get off!!”

Amber eyes shot frantically to the door, expecting the rest of the flock to come at the sound of his protests. Instead, there was a soft clicking at the window, some hard object knocking delicately. Syaoran’s heart sank to the floor when he found the source of that noise.

It was a silver owl with a bored expression on his face.

“Oh, my Dumbledore! You have mail!”

“No, no, stop!” he blocked his sister’s path to the window and cleared his throat, “I mean, it’s no big deal…”

Shiefa lifted an eyebrow at his conflicted brother. He was blushing furiously and staring at the floor as if he wanted nothing more than perforating it with his gaze. She tilted her head, entertaining the idea of calling her other sisters to let them in on the fun of pestering this precious little boy. That proved to be unnecessary, since footsteps started to approach from the hallway, sending a wave of panic through the little wolf boy. If Meiling saw that owl, it would be the end of him.

As the resolve came to him, Syaoran shook his head energetically and sprinted towards the window, jumped through it and climbed to the rooftop.

“Accio, Firebolt!”

The broomstick slided graciously through the sky, silver owl following closely with the same bored expression and the unopened letter on its beak. Syaoran took a moment to let the fresh breeze brush the color from his cheeks and then directed his stare at the owl.

Its name was Yue, and it belonged to the cutest of his torments. However, it could not be more different from her. Where its mistress was all smiles and warmth, Yue was cool and distant. Syaoran kinda liked it and the owl seemed to be growing fond of the Slytherin boy as well. As much as a stern owl could show, at least. Either way, Syaoran found peace in his silent little moments with the animal, whenever it showed up to deliver Sakura’s letters at Li Manor.

“I wish she would stop sending these stupid letters to my house” Syaoran found himself sighing to the unimpressed owl.

The little wolf boy extended a hand to take the envelope from the owl’s beak and was met with it’s expressionless silver eyes.

“No, I don’t. You’re right,” he stuffed the letter inside his pocket, “I guess I only want to avoid an argument with my family…”

Yue flipped its wings, but made no sign of flying away, instead gliding graciously next to the boy.

“If only she was a pureblood… but what is the big idea about her muggle father, anyway?” his grip on the broomstick tightened, “when she talks about him… he sounds alright… what could possibly be so bad about muggles?”

Amber eyes searched the silver owl’s face. In his struggle, the boy was genuinely turning to Yue for an answer.

“If he really was a lowlife like my family always say, then he certainly wouldn’t have been able to raise such a… such an incredible… How could someone like her come from such an inferior origin?”

The boy slumped on his Firebolt, feeling defeated, but even then, the owl never abandoned his side.

“I’m sorry, Yue” he murmured, not daring to lift his head, “I can’t write back to her this time either…”

Yue directed one final stare at Syaoran before taking off into the distance.

---

Sakura opened the window to her attic room in the little muggle town, letting Yue in. She petted its head affectionately while the owl pretended not to care.

“Did you see him, Yue? How is he?”

A yellow cat jerked up from its comfortable place on top of the bed at the mention of the Slytherin boy. Sakura giggled at the cat’s narrowing eyes and spiky fur at the top of its back while Yue flew in circles around her head, leaving a silvery sparkle trail behind him, like fairy dust. Moon magic. Sakura closed her eyes, basking in this familiar magical presence, his magical presence.

“I wonder if he is eating well… he must be, since he’s with his family, right?”

Yue stared at her, not blinking.

“I hope he liked my letter, at least… maybe I should send him chocolate next time?”

The yellow cat named Cerberus hissed its disagreement.

[spnoneshotsandstories]

Oh my! Cherry Pie - Dean Winchester Imagines

Y/N groaned in agony as she laid on the couch eagle spread, hungry and in pain...lots of pain. She looked at her left arm stuck in a sling and glared at it. “This is all your fault, stupid bloody arm, damn werewolf” she seethed. Usually it was up to her to get the shopping done but a werewolf got the jump on her and broke her arm in several places so Dean and Sam went to do it, she hadn’t eaten all day since she had just woke up and Cas was busy doing something else in who-knows-where-USA which is why she was now bore, hungry, alone, hungry….Did I mentioned hungry? “GAH!! I’m FREAKING STARVING!!”

Y/N shouted before getting up making sure to not put weight on her left arm as she got up.

High and low she searched the cupboards for something...anything really as long as it was edible at this point she could probably take her old, muddy boot cover it in ketchup and call it a day. Hopelessly, she stumbled to the fridge for anything, she’d even eat Sam’s moose food, she would take a greasy, cardiac arrest between two buns any day but today...today she didn’t care. The light from the fridge illuminated the dark kitchen..bupkis..not a single thing to eat, no hide or hair of a carrot, leaf, or days old left overs, nothing but two beers undoubtedly deans, stood in her deflated peripheral. She sighed and closed her eyes before moving the beer on the right over a little more, saying a little prayer as she opened her big, E/C orbs. A circular tin with a plastic lid laid in front of her sight, ¾ of the contents missing, undoubtedly rolling around in Dean’s gut or down the sewer.

Wait a minute...Dean’s pie…. Y/N eyes went wide as she took her gaze away from the delicious dessert. “Oh, no...don’t you even think about it Y/N, Dean will have your ass mounted about the fireplace” she mumbled to her self as she closed the door of the fridge with a pout. She stood there in the kitchen, with her hand still on the fridge door when her conscious slapped her in the face! You know like in the cartoon with the angel and the devil? Heh angels...devils...well they didn’t have a physical form so to speak but they were there with her and screaming at her.

Angle: “stealing is wrong, you shouldn’t do it, wait and your patience will be rewarded”

Devil: “EFFFFF THAT! Lady, you have given everything for those boys, you cook, you clean and your a damn good hunter, if Dean can’t forgive you for taking what’s left of this pie, then he can shove it where the sun don’t shine!!”

Weighing the pros and cons of the situation, Y/N stopped abruptly and grabbed the tin and a fork from the drawer before diving in. “If I’m gonna die, I’m doing it in style with a kick ass last meal” Y/N thought as she stuffed the delicious cherry goodness in her face. Being..well Y/N, she went to her room which was conveniently on the bottom floor and went to her stereo and started to blast Cherry Pie by Warrant and dancing by the table in the kitchen as she ate Dean’s her pie. But in her delight she didn’t hear the sound of the Impala roaring in the garage...or the sound of the door starting to unlock.  

“FEEZ MAH HERY PAH”  Y/N sung with a mouth full of pie and she danced and wiggled her butt, with a big smile on her face. Then she saw Sam with an amused look and behind him was….oh crap. Y/N eyebrows flew up to her hairline to see Dean with a look on his face, it didn’t look mad..but it wasn’t a happy look either...this was ...BADDD!!!!! The tin dropped to the floor with a loud clatter…. “ Sonovab-, Y/N there are things to man that are sacred , you don’t touch his girl, you don’t touch his car, you don’t touch his beer, you don’t touch his porn and you don’t touch his PIE” he said dropping the grocery bags to the floor.

As fast as you could you bee-lined it for your room, hearing heavy footsteps behind you and made it in successfully to your room and locked it. Breathing a sigh of relief as you retreated to your bed, full and happy...then your door started to jiggle…..oh crap….you had forgotten something very important about Dean...and that was he knew how to pick locks...The door swung open like some horror movie and there was Dean smiling with a machete in his hands… “ Y/N baby, I’m sorry I snapped, turn around and put your butt in the air, so I can chop it off mount it above the fire place” he said in a sweet voice, that even though you were scared out of your mind… had you melting...Y/N let out a sigh, then a small smile “well…...crap”.

Dean closed up on her like a predator, machete still in hand and in seconds flat the blade was upon her, closing her eyes she didn’t get too see what happened next...but she did feel it. Lips…. Chapped, yet smooth, devilishly delicious lips, lips that could love, hate, kill, kiss, beg and even take your soul. Y/N eyes shot open to see Dean standing over her, with his emerald eyes looking straight through her, hands on either side of head as his lips disconnected with hers. A red hue took over Y/N face as their lips disconnected and he slowly made his way to her ear. “Your my cherry pie, put a smile on my face, ten miles wide, you look so good you bring a tear to my eye, sweet cherry pie” his husky voice growled in your ears, causing the red to stay as shivered rolled down your spine in waves, lightly he then attacked your ear with little nibbles and kisses...suppressing sounds, your only thoughts were “why didn’t I eat that pie sooner?”