#the header is one constant i’ll tell you that

[dunhamsolivia]

I just want to thank you for still having that BSG gif in your mobile header, because if you didn't I wouldn't be able to rmbr which fandom I originally followed you for 🙈🙈🙈

bahahah omg ik, i’m sorry!

[aurumalatus]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 (𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔)

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.4k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers (yes kinich literally invented this trope okay. sue me), mini-drabbles, childhood to university, modern!au, fluff and slight angst, lots of bantering but it's light-hearted i promise

summary.

you've always been a sore loser—kinich is just the only one brave enough to say it. or, you and kinich fall in love over the course of your lives, and one thing never changes—you're both idiots

author's note. credit to @/scythidol for the header images! a bit of a different fic format this time (who is she....). i'm sick over kinich, i have nothing clever to say or excuses to make. that's all, thank you for reading! i'm finishing this at 5am so i'll fix any errors later lol. reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

I.

“You’re annoying.”

The old TV in your backyard treehouse buzzes with static and the constant thumps of Kinich’s fingers against the controller buttons.

It’s a summer evening—crickets chirp merrily in the grass and lightning bugs float lazily through the air, glowing among the stars. You’re sitting next to him, knees pulled to your chest and the straw of a Capri-Sun settled between your lips.

His reaction (or lack thereof) to your words leaves you less than entertained, a sour pout fixed on your lips as he sighs.

“You’re a sore loser. We said whoever got up here first got to play first.” Despite the intense game occurring on the screen in front of him, he diverts about half his attention to watching you out of the corner of his eye. “And I got up here first.”

“But you always win,” you whine. Kinich nudges at his own juice box with his knee, and you roll your eyes before picking it up and holding it to his lips—he drinks gratefully, still focused on his game. You’re not sure why you keep agreeing to this bet; you don’t think you’ve ever won.

“Then you need to get faster.”

Both of you know that such a feat would be impossible—Kinich has been the fastest kid in your grade since you started school. His athleticism affords him a bit of popularity, still at the age where winning a playground race is essentially the deciding factor between the cool kids and the lame ones. But he’s not interested in any of that, and he makes that quite clear in his actions.

After all, all the popular kids avoid him since he started a fight with them last year. 

“They were saying things about you,” he’d shrugged, like it was no big deal. The school seemed to think a bit differently, and his suspension felt like the longest week of your life.

The screen flashes then, a loud and colorful display that shows the words “you win”. Kinich leans back in his seat, a pleased half-smile spreading across his face. 

“Okay, now you can play.”

He tries to hand you the controller, but you huff, crossing your arms and turning away.

“I don’t even wanna play anymore.”

Kinich is far more mature than you at this age—even your own mother tells you as much—so he merely sighs, accepting of your tantrum.

“Okay, what do you wanna do then?”

You ponder that for a moment. There’s a lot of things you do often, but many of them are things that Kinich is much better at than you. Playing video games, climbing trees, riding bikes—he’s far more talented at them all. It’s one of the reasons you even became friends in the first place—you’d practically begged him to teach you to beat the final boss of Super Mario Galaxy, and the rest was history.

“I don’t know,” you mumble noncommittally, blowing your straw wrapper at him. It lands right on target, bouncing lightly off his forehead as he rolls his eyes.

“Come on, whatever you wanna do, we’ll do it,” he says, poking at your cheek. “I’ll even play house.”

And you know Kinich hates playing house—he has boundless amounts of energy most days, and house isn’t “challenging” enough of a game for him to expend it. But he does it occasionally, just for you.

You brighten at the prospect. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, already descending the treehouse ladder, waving you along. “Let’s go inside first, though. I’m hungry.”

Scrambling to your feet, you jump down to meet Kinich, already standing in the grass.

“Last one inside is a rotten egg!”

II.

The rainstorm ends just as classes dismiss—when you walk out the school entrance, a slight drizzle is still letting up, fresh puddles lapping at your toes. Kinich’s gaze finds you instantly as he slinks out of the school gates, bag tossed loosely over his shoulder.

“My socks are wet now,” you whine, patting down the edges of your skirt to look down at your shoes. You’d only just bought them recently, and your mom likely wouldn’t be pleased with the prospect of you ruining them so soon.

Kinich chuckles at first, a snarky sound as thick as the gathering clouds, only to sigh when your pout persists.

“Alright, alright,” he relents, squatting to the ground and gesturing for you to get on his back. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

He’s a bit frail, still in his growing phase—his bones and muscles shift rhythmically under his skin as he walks—but he’s so distinctly warm. The heat makes you curl closer, nose brushing against his neck.

He walks you home most days like this, spending the day at your house until the sky grows dark with dusk. His home life is something he rarely discusses, but you know enough, and you’re happy to welcome him to yours.

“You’re slow,” you mumble into his shoulder. The steady thump of his steps is comforting, nearly putting you to sleep.

“You’re heavy,” Kinich replies teasingly, adjusting your weight atop his back. His words are biting, but he’s being careful with his steps nonetheless, taking each one lightly so as not to jostle you.

“You’re rude,” you scoff back. His nose scrunches in annoyance when you loop your arms tighter around his neck, pretending to choke him as punishment. “You’re not supposed to say that to a girl.”

He blows his bangs out of his eyes, peering up at the newly visible sun that starts to dip low in the sky. You watch a cat scurry through the bushes to your right, golden eyes peering through the foliage before disappearing into the darkness. 

“Yeah, that’s why I’m saying it to you.”

Kinich is always a bit wittier than you, a bit quicker to the punch, but you like that about him. You like a lot of things about him, and you’re sure he knows it, too. A weighty silence settles between the two of you, unnatural—it’s usually you who fills the silence, and Kinich who patiently listens.

But something bigger sits at the back of your mind, and the words are having trouble surmounting the obstacle of your tongue. 

You’re still floundering for something to say by the time your house appears in the distance. The sight lights a fire under you—you don’t want to discuss something like this with your mother in earshot. You force the words out, voice weak and small.

“I heard Mualani confessed to you yesterday.”

The rumor had flown through the school like wildfire. Mualani is popular with the boys after all, so there’s bound to be quite a bit of heartbreak if she ends up in a relationship. Someone had seen them together at that sakura tree behind the school, and it instantly became a hot topic—it’s all you’ve heard about all day.

And though you know it’s not really any of your business, you can’t help but be curious, and the thought fills you with dread.

You manage a glance at his expression, searching for any sort of unrest, but he doesn’t show any at all. In fact, he seems wholly uninterested in the topic.

He shrugs. “Yeah, so?”

You take a deep breath for courage—you’re not sure you want to hear his answer. 

“So? What did you tell her?”

And it’s nothing against Mualani, really—she’s kind and beautiful, and you wouldn’t blame Kinich for falling for her. She’s never done anything wrong to you at all. But a beat passes, and you’re already halfway through mourning the end of your long-time crush when he replies.

“I told her I was flattered, but I wasn’t interested.”

A sigh of relief escapes you then, but you reel it in quickly—he can probably feel you relax against his back at his response.

“Oh,” is all you say, as aloof as you can manage. Kinich latches onto your hesitation instantly.

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” comes your hasty reply. “...Is there any reason you said no, though?”

He frowns. “I don’t know. She just isn’t my type.”

“...Then what is your type?”

You’re going too far, you know—even just speaking the words has your chest twisting painfully, and you want to crawl into a hole and disappear. If Kinich isn’t an idiot, he can surely tell why you’re practically breathing down his neck over the whole thing.

But maybe Kinich is a little bit of an idiot, at least about these things, because he merely shrugs.

“Not sure. Never really thought about it.”

A frost unfurls in your chest, bitter—of course Kinich wouldn’t know, he’s never thought about anyone that way. Including you.

“Right.” You attempt a laugh, teeth gritting. “It’s all stupid anyway.”

You drop your head into his shoulder, trying to hide the pained expression on your face, and only then does Kinich’s stare flicker to you, soft.

“Right,” he says, a quiet rumble from his chest. “It’s really, really stupid.”

III.

Walks turn to drives when Kinich turns sixteen and buys his own car.

He’d saved up for months, working part-time jobs on weekends and after school, until the day finally came when he pulled up into your driveway, keys in hand. Your mom had been overwhelmingly proud—bought a cake and everything—and you’d merely been grateful that you no longer had to beg her to drive you places. 

It’s nothing crazy, just a simple sedan, but it represents a freedom that the two of you have never experienced together before.

That’s how you end up parked underneath the flickering streetlight just outside your house, excitedly recounting a story to your best friend. He’d driven you home from your club after school, an errand that always ended in several other stops—today, it had been fast food and boba.

His eyes seem to glow in the fading daylight, a pretty jade and amber that you’ve always thought was beautiful. It feels a bit more intense with his stare trained on you—Kinich isn’t the talkative type, sure, but he always ensures that you know he’s listening.

“So then she was asking me about you.”

“Mhm.”

“And get this,” a nervous chuckle escapes you then, “she thought we were dating.”

Everything falls still.

It’s times like this that you really start to hate just how unreadable your best friend can be. Despite how much you tease him for it, you actually enjoy how difficult it can be to force an expression out of him—it’s a little challenge every day. But now, when you’re on the precipice of pouring your heart out, his impassive expression stings.

Nothing on his face changes, save for a slight tilt of his head—he’s considering your words. The silence feels endless; a lump starts to form in your throat, humiliation burning at your cheeks. 

“I know, it’s so ridiculous,” you assert hurriedly, trying to avoid the rush of shame. “I mean, we would never—”

“Tell her we are, then.”

You’re sure that in that moment, your heart stops. 

Truthfully, you hadn’t planned to get this far—you were planning on brushing over that part of the story and moving on, but something deep in your heart had forced it out of you. Now, you aren’t sure what you really want to happen.

It’s always been your underlying fear, that once Kinich finds out, everything will change. Or even if he does return your feelings, it’ll all go up in flames eventually and you’ll never be the same. It’s terrifying enough to have kept your mouth shut all these years.

A tense laugh erupts from your throat, cutting through the silence. “I—I mean, it’s not that simple—”

He arches a brow. “Do you not want to?”

That’s another difference between you and Kinich—he’s far more straightforward about getting things that he wants. It’s one of the reasons that people misinterpret him as cold, but he sees it as being logical.

You gnaw at your lip, fingers tracing over the car door. Do you?

If the countless daydreams and romantic notebook doodles are anything to go by, you do. You really do. You’re just not sure if you’re brave enough to take that step.

When you look at him again, he’s observing you carefully, a delicate fondness lying in his stare. You shrink under the weight of it.

“No, I do,” you admit quietly. 

The moment falls still, and your eyes are drawn to the only movement within your line of vision—the quick bob of Kinich’s throat. Then, his hand advances toward your face at a measured pace, giving you endless opportunities to retreat.

Of course, you don’t.

“Can I…?” he asks, barely a brush of a whisper. The tension runs thick in the air as his tongue peeks out, swiping over his bottom lip at a tantalizing pace. It’s nearly enough to drive you crazy, but you know he’s just as anxious.

“Yes,” you breathe, wincing at the sound of your own voice—it sounds almost too eager.

But Kinich presses his lips to yours all the same, soft and wanting, and your heart flutters in your chest. It’s a chaste kiss, nothing like the fireworks-exploding-making-out-with-tongue types you’ve seen on TV, but it’s just right—it feels like him, and that’s all that matters. He pulls away slightly, lips still millimeters away from yours.

“I like you. If I’m not wrong, you like me too. I think it’s that simple.”

You almost want to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Though you’d never admit it, you’ve practiced this scenario thousands of times in front of your bedroom mirror—what you would say to him, what he might say to you. Leave it to Kinich to not follow the script.

But he’s always done things his own way, so really, you should’ve expected this.

Gently, he reaches for your hand, fingers slotting through yours with ease. You sigh.

“I guess it is.”

IV.

“...that far, huh?”

Kinich stares at you upside down, head dangling off the edge of your bed as you sit at your desk, laptop keys clicking rapidly. He knows you’re serious about your future goals; you both are. He just never imagined it would bring the two of you so far apart.

You pause with one hand resting on the mouse, still staring at the screen. The map looks so daunting, too daunting, and you can’t imagine being that far away from him. 

An awkward, weighted silence hangs in the air, and by the time a few seconds pass, you’ve already foreseen eighty different bad endings for this situation. Clearing your throat once, you force yourself to speak.

“Kinich, I—”

“I get it.”

He doesn’t mean to interrupt you so suddenly, but he does. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried. Because while he does understand—he really does—he also can’t help the stinging sensation of tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. It feels pathetic. It feels selfish. Here you are, chasing your dreams and supporting his, and he’s caught on the fact that there will be a little space between the two of you. And it’s not like it’s anyone’s fault, but maybe you’ll get tired of waiting and—

“You’ll come back to me, right?”

There’s an unmistakable thickness to your voice, evidence of the steadily growing lump in your weary throat. It grows larger with every passing second, an insurmountable mass dwarfed only by the impending distance between you and him.

That question catches Kinich off-guard, and he nearly wants to laugh then; not because he doubts you at all, but because he doesn’t, and he finds it ridiculous that you would ever think otherwise. Here you are, worrying about him.

Kinich doesn’t have any doubts or fears. He never does when he’s with you.

Maybe that’s why.

With a light laugh, he lets his eyes flutter closed, finally allowing an uneven breath to fill his lungs. The natural light outside is slowly dimming, the fluorescent lamps dotting your street flicking on one by one. He knows he should go home soon. His car is sitting outside, the same one the two of you have had endless adventures, fights, and make-ups in. It’s the same one he will use when he moves an unfathomable distance away from you. The same one he will use on the day you will cry, clinging to him like your life depends on it, before watching him disappear into nothing but a mere dot in the distance.

His fist clenches at his side. 

But you’re still here, the closest feeling he has to home, and you’re still in love with him, and he is still in love with you.

Maybe that’s why this is enough, for now. 

Turning onto his stomach, Kinich sees you right-side up this time, and it’s like nothing has changed.

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” 

V.

A knock echoes on your apartment door in the middle of the night.

You raise a brow at the sound, a bit unnerved—a lone college girl answering the door in the dark isn’t the safest thing, you think as you peek one eye through the peephole. But there’s a familiar figure standing outside, and it has your hand turning the knob immediately and flinging the door open.

He’s here.

“Kinich,” you breathe, in disbelief. Last you’d heard, he was somewhere halfway across the country, and certainly nowhere near your front door. But he’s here, in a black hoodie and grey sweatpants, looking like he’s just walked out of your dreams.

“Hey,” he says simply, as if his appearance hadn’t been totally shocking. He takes advantage of your shell-shocked state to invite himself inside, curiously looking through your apartment. “Nice place.”

You step aside in a daze. “Kinich—you—what are you doing here?”

He’s holding three flimsy bags in his fist, grocery store logos and restaurant labels stamped over the plastic, keys hanging off his pinky finger. He’d come prepared, clearly, but for what you’re not sure. 

He towers over you a bit more than he used to, hair a bit longer, and everything about him feels so grown up. It reminds you of all the moments the two of you have missed over the years, how much change has occurred beneath your nose, maybe without you realizing. 

He spreads the bags over your kitchen table—the mouth-watering smell of Chinese takeout filters through the air, and your stomach grumbles in reply. But it’s your tear ducts that react initially, a sting at the corners of your eyes as you squeeze them shut.

Kinich doesn’t notice at first, absorbed in inspecting the photos displayed on your wall—photos of you, photos of him, photos of the two of you together. It makes his chest warm that you still think about those times. He does too—after all, it’s rare that you leave his mind.

But he turns back to you, tears running rivers down your cheeks, and his breath hitches.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, carefully cupping your face. A lilt of panic laces his voice. “Does something hurt? Are you sick?”

“You’re here,” you sob, curling into his shoulder. None of it feels real. He’s warm and firm beneath your fingers, and you clutch at him tighter, half-expecting everything to disappear. It’s so much different than FaceTime or calling or anything else you do when he’s away. Because right now, he’s completely within your reach, and everything falls into place.

“Of course I am,” he murmurs. You cry into his hoodie, soaking the fabric with your tears, but he holds you close all the same. “Because you’re here.”

You spend a few minutes that way—you crying until your tears dry over your skin, and him comfortingly rubbing at your back. Air slowly returns to your lungs, and you sniffle, glassy eyes meeting his. 

“But why? I mean, it’s the middle of the semester, isn’t it?”

A rare half-smirk graces his lips.

“We made a promise. I came back to you first. So I do believe that means that I win,” he says. If you weren’t so emotional, you might have rolled your eyes—of course, all he ever focuses on is winning.

He drags you over to the couch, laying down and pulling you on top of him, safe. You draw closer to him, tangling your limbs together until you’re not sure where he ends and you begin.

“You’re annoying,” you whisper, muffled into his chest.

Kinich shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“You’re still a sore loser. Thought you’d grow out of that by now.”

You grumble a few choice words at him, and he smiles—a sight that only you and the stars can claim to have ever seen.

And he’s right; you are a sore loser, and he’s been right just about every time he told you so. But you find it doesn’t matter, not really.

You could never win against Kinich anyway.

(Maybe you never wanted to.)

[chickenparm]

Tradition - Part Six

Check out @drawlypsy’s full version of the header that can be found here! This is a short chapter but bear with me, we're getting there.

---

“Sn-Snezhnayan tradition dictates in a traditional battle, the winner is allowed to request one thing from the-” another cough, born from phlegm in his throat that rattles wetly, “from the loser.” (or, You accept a bet and despite not winning, you’re not sure if you’ve actually lost.)

Previous Part | Next Part AO3 Link

Childe/f!Reader 1,276 Words - SFW Bamboozled into marriage, awkwardness, fluff, future smut

---

The moment you slipped the Akasha Terminal over your ear, you ceased to dream. 

In Sumeru City, in Gandharva Ville, in Port Ormos, each night is restful, but ultimately void of vivid images in your subconscious. It takes you almost two weeks before you realize the loss of your dreams, and only because you overhear someone make mention of how adults in Sumeru are unable to do so. 

Odd, but not unwelcome. Because during your trip to Sumeru, the only things occupying your dreams were soft orange hair, depthless blue eyes, the exact constellation of freckles across two cheeks that smushed his arm as he leaned on the windowsill and smiled at you sadly. 

Once, he offered to help you. The Fatui have near-endless resources when it comes to information, thanks to a few of the Harbingers being very invested in the exchange of little secrets. But unfortunately, it comes with the caveat of throwing your lot in with them. The Fatui don’t make uneven exchanges, especially when you’ve been somewhat of a thorn in their side for a little too long, now.

In the dark of the inn’s sitting room, the gentle lights from outside the window playing across the two of you, there was an equivalent exchange made. Childe would be heading to Inazuma in your absence to investigate Scaramouche’s actions and disappearance with the gnosis there. It’s no secret you had a hand in it, and he makes you an offer. 

I’ll tell you one piece of information for every piece you afford me, he told you without a shred of dishonesty. We can make each other's life easier. 

In exchange for a promise to be nothing but diplomatic, you tell him a single name; Yae Miko. And he gives you a crooked smirk while making it clear he expects no such promise in return. The name he gives you is twofold - The Doctor, or Il Dottore. Another Harbinger. 

And when you remind him that she’s aware of the arrangement between the two of you, his smile only grows wider. Teasing words leave him about how perhaps you’ll meet him in Inazuma when you’re finished in Sumeru, and the two of you can go ahead and get things set in stone. The elbow to his ribs only makes him laugh a little too loud before you slap a hand over his mouth to keep him from waking Paimon. 

Dreamlessness is a nice reprieve from too many thoughts of a man you won’t be able to see for an indeterminate amount of time. It lets you focus on the task at hand; finding Lesser Lord Kusanali is a task in and of itself. Each day mixes into the next, exhaustion growing until it feels almost too much to bear. 

And then, vaguely, they start again. 

At first, it’s only the wisps of suggestions. A cool scent lingering in your nose as you sit up in bed. The color of the sky at sunset, locked in strands that tickle through your fingers as you reach out for them. Blue, blue, blue eyes that look at you with amusement, annoyance, affection, longing. 

Then, it grows stronger. A shoulder pressed against yours as the surroundings shift nebulously, his presence the only real constant in your subconscious thoughts. How the skin of his cheek felt beneath your lips as you brushed them there, just shy of where you really wanted to touch him. Long fingers gliding across your jaw as he leans in, eyes half-lidded and so very close. 

And then you awaken, your heart filled with longing. Each one is familiar, not because of the subject, but a sick sense of déjà vu. Paimon’s chattering goes in one ear and out the other as you scramble with shaking fingers at the transient edges of dreams you’re desperate for. Each day following those dreams feels as long as a century.

You wake up from those dreams one hundred sixty-eight times.

Every half-baked dream is deposited back in your head with Lesser Lord Kusanali’s knowledge capsule, and your heart feels exhausted and broken each time you receive the gift of your memories. By the time you break the samsara of the Sabzeruz Festival, it feels as if you’ve lived a lifetime without him. 

It shouldn’t be as painful as it is. Countless years were spent before meeting him, traveling from world to world with only the presence of your twin for company. Even now, you’re not truly alone with Paimon at your side - except it’s not nearly the same. If Paimon knows what it is that has you out of sorts, then no mention is made of it. 

Nahida offers you no such reprieve. Another one hundred sixty-eight cycles go by, though of a much smaller time frame, and it all feels like an eternity since you’ve last seen Childe’s face. The Akasha terminal allows you to dream fully once more, and you awaken with tears in your eyes, an ache in your chest, and a little god sitting at the end of your bed with a look of interest and a hand clutched over her heart. 

“You must love him very much, for him to be your first dream.”

And how do you respond to that? Because you’re not quite sure if that’s the right word to use - not because it’s incorrect, but because it isn’t enough. Your fingers swipe at your eyes to wipe away the tears, and Nahida waits patiently for you to give a response. In the end, all you can do is nod your head. 

“It will take me some time to work through Irminsul to find information on your sibling. Why don’t you use that time to take a rest?” Nahida reaches out, her hand curling around your ankle on the bed and squeezing a little too tightly, as if she’s just now attempting the action of physical comfort for the first time in her life. “Maybe a change of scenery will help with the heartache?”

The sun crests over the treetops of Dharma Forest as your palm rests flat on the base of the teleporter. A tug yanks behind your navel, your stomach twisting in anticipation for the sensation of being broken down into something formless and ephemeral as the Ley Lines anticipate your direction based solely on a single thought. 

The lush grass at the top of Mt. Yougou cushions your fall as you drop to your knees, breathing heavily to offset the sensation of complete unmaking and reconstruction. The torii gate you’ve landed next to is enough to hold your weight as you lean on it and take deep, gasping breaths. The shrine maiden looks on, perplexed but keeping a respectful distance - it’s not the first time that Nana has seen you drop in through these teleporters, and she’s well aware there’s nothing that can be done to provide assistance. 

“Should I let Guuji Yae know you’re here, Traveler?”

“I’m well aware. How could I not hear such a clumsy arrival? How you managed to survive against Ei’s Musou no Hitotachi will always be a wonder.” Miko stands before you, a hand waving airily to dismiss Nana as she observes your slumped form. Tactfully, she remarks, “You look awful. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, but the body continues to yearn.”

How do you explain everything that’s happened? Miko would appreciate being candid, but all you can manage now is a frustrated sound as you get to your feet without a single offer of help on her end. She’s already halfway across the courtyard by the time you’ve balanced yourself properly. 

Maybe you will give her the long version, instead. 

[rainchyna]

𓆩♡𓆪 episode eight: WONDERFUL BULLOCKS.

tumblr keeps trying to silence me and i soon will sue im sick and tired.

#anyways i just realized i messed up the header the writing 7 instead of 8 pls pretend it’s not there

hows everyone doing i know this chapter is a bit overdue but hey at least i managed to get something out am i right or what good god i hate it here.

y/n got haters yikes !! how uncool do you have to be to not like y/n like damn

gotta love owen and y/n’s stupid shit they’re so cute i love them

“can I at least get up? I want water” you say.

Hunter hasn’t left your side since you passed out after Raw. he even went as far as kicking Chyna out of your room so he can be close in case you needed anything.

“no. you stay here, I’ll get it for you” he says. damn, okay. well, since you were going to have a big, strong man refuse to leave your side he might as well play his role to the fullest. as soon as Hunter stepped back into the room with a glass of water you sunk under your blanket, forcing yourself to shiver as hard as you can.

“Y/n? are you okay?” he asked placing the cup on the nightstand, he sat next to you and rubbed your shoulder.

“better not be a fever or something. are you cold, angel?” he asks, and you nod. he gets up again, seemingly to turn up the heating but you grab his arm.

“come lay next to me” you tug on his arm, he smiles. Hunter slides under the covers with you, wrapping his arms around you pulling you close. he was always so warm.

you were tired, you couldn’t deny that, but you were falling asleep quicker than you thought. Hunter was quietly talking about something stupid he and Shawn did but your eyes were failing you.

Shawn and Hunter were growing closer day by day, they were close to being inseparable. you and Shawn were very slowly beginning to get along, he was still quite unbearable but he wasn’t as loud and obnoxious as he usually is.

sometimes you’d catch him staring at you intensely you’d think he’s zoned out, but he’d smile and look away. it felt like he was planning something or trying to follow along with something but you couldn’t put your finger onto it.

frankly, he sometimes straight up scared you because what the hell?

“what’s up with Shawn?” you mumble rubbing your eyes, Hunter looks down at you confused. as far as he’s concerned, Shawn is doing just fine. “what do you mean?” Hunter asks.

you tiredly shrug, “he’s been… off”. you didnt know how to explain it but Shawn hasn’t been acting like himself, you didn’t hate him for it, thank god he’s been calmer but damn it if it wasn’t freaking you out.

“like what?” Hunter asks, you shrug again. “you know… he kinda just sits there - and stares - he seems quite reserved” you say. Hunter hums.

he noticed it too, should he tell you?

“what’s that about?” you ask, well its not like he’s losing anything.

“y’know how him and Sunny have had a thing?”, you nod. “well.. Shawn is kinda really into this other girl, but Sunny isn’t uhm..” Hunter trails off.

you sit up, “isn’t…?”

Hunter sighs, “she isn’t taking that very well” he leans back. “Sunny sees her as the competition, since she’s the original diva and all that” Hunter explains.

you looks down at your hands, … is this about you?

you hum and lay against Hunter’s chest, “right” you mutter.

3:09 pm, central London.

London was always a fun time. you’ve come here several times in your time with New Japan and more on your own, it’s was always sweet.

you’re more excited about being with your friends in this time, well, four friends and the man child that tagged along. seriously, for fucks sake, can Shawn Michaels ever not whine?

“Chynaaaaaaa” he dragged, Chyna was sick and tired. the moment the plane landed she immediately caught a cold, she was tired of Shawn’s constant whining and him breathing on her neck.

“what the fuck is it this time?” she asks, irritated. Shawn huffs, “are we there yet?” he asks, Chyna turns to him and squeezes his face. “am I the one who’s fucking driving? ask Y/n. or are you scared of getting smacked again?” she taunts.

Shawn pulls away from her and huffs again, “as if” he boasts, “then why aren’t you talking to me?” you asks, your eyes meeting in the rear view mirror. Shawn is flustered and instantly looks away, “because!” he reasons.

you were driving because you knew London better than the rest of them. Shawn was sitting directly behind you, Hunter was in the passenger’s seat, and Chyna was squished between Shawn and a sleeping Lita.

it’s a quite for a while, apart from the occasional chatter between you, Hunter and Chyna, and Lita’s light snores.

“Y/nnnnnnnnn” Shawn whined, you raise an eyebrow. “so you aren’t scared of me?” you smile, “pfft, no I’m not. I’m hungry” Shawn said, you grab your bag that was sitting on Hunter’s lap and give it to Shawn.

“there’s chips and a juice box in there” you say, “and stop fucking whining before I pull the fuck over” you threaten, “yes ma’am!” Shawn said as he opened the bag. you slapped the wrestling ability out of his body the other day, but he’s giving out for a bag of chips?

an actual child.

“where’d you get this car anyway?” Hunter asks, “from Davey” you answer. “oh right, he’s bri’ish innit” Hunter says with the shittiest british accent ever, it’s almost scottish. “don’t ever in your fucking life-” you laugh, “a bo’o o wota!” he exclaims.

“it’s chewsdae innit bruv” he continued mocking Davey while Chyna and Shawn cracked up in the back and you held back the urge to join him.

“we’ll gaur to thee pub and get drunk til dawn, eh?”

“why is he talking like that?” Lita asked, rubbing her eyes. “he thinks he’s funny” Shawn deadpans, “I am funny!” Hunter counters.

see? fun. so, very fun. this is going to be a long day.

“guys, are we there yet?” Lita asks, Chyna groans. “oh, don’t start you”, Hunter laughs. “we’re here”.

well this isn’t bad.

you’re in your own room this time, this girls are on completely different floors. Chyna was on the second while Lita was on the sixteenth, you were on the eighth. Shawn was the only person on the same floor as you but he was still down the hallway, the only other people were the Hardy brothers but you barely knew them.

you’re not liking that fact that you have to get used to this, you and the girls always roomed together! you were going to be bored as fuck for the rest of the day, or until you three figure out a way to be together without anyone noticing.

apparently, sharing a room isn’t allowed anymore because some people with getting into petty fights and left rooms trashed, and Vince isn’t paying a dime out of pocket to fix anything.

to be honest, fair enough.

but hey, they didn’t say visits aren’t allowed. you’re laying down on your bed, you look down at your self, you were only wearing an oversized “Chyna Syndrome” shirt and no pants. “fuck.” you mutter.

do you need to wear pants? the shirt went down to your knees basically. “tsk” you get up and slide on your crocs.

on your way out you grab a bottle of water and lock the door behind you. at the end of the hall you can see Shawn leaving his room, more like sneaking out of his room. he waved at you with a half smile and you wave back with a confused look.

“where are you headin’?” he asks leaning against his door, “Lita’s” you say approaching him, Shawn shakes your hand for some reason …okay? “and you?” you ask, “I’m going to-”

then you hear a door loudly slam behind you.

“heyyyy y/n” her voice glees.

oh, for fucks sake man.

you both look behind you, “oh” you mumble looking at Shawn. “hey.. Sunny” you say looking at the ground, scratching your neck. “no, no, no! Hunter! I’m going to hang out with Hunter not her” Shawn quickly answers.

the second Sunny saw you with Shawn her stomach did a flip. Shawn was replacing her with you! he’s been slipping away from her since the moment you arrived and the only times he was with her were, as Shawn said, “to make Y/n jealous”.

you didn’t give two fucks, she knew you didn’t. she didn’t like you not one bit. first you come in and you’re treated like the federation’s priority, then you’re given the women’s title on your debut, everyone seems to really fucking like you and you’re stealing her man who’s not her man now?

too much.

Sunny narrowed her eyes at you, she couldn’t tell if you were leaving Shawn’s room or if you’re about to go in, but your clothes told her a lot. you’re only wearing a big shirt and Shawn wore a snapback and khaki shorts without a shirt.

well, well, well.

“how are you babe?” Sunny asks as she leans in for a hug, she squeezes you for a bit. she looks at you with a slight frown as she passive aggressively interrogates you about your day.

Shawn’s knees were on the verge of giving out from under him. the girl he wants nothing to do with and the girl he’d kill himself trying to get an ounce of attention from in the same place. what kind of hellish dream is this?

“I see you two are …close.” Sunny says eyeing you and Shawn, you and Shawn scramble to explain you don’t really like each other but are in the same friend group. “oh, so are you like hanging out or hanging out?” she asks.

“excuse me?” you make a face, “of course we are!” Shawn chirps, “we’re actually going to Lita’s room right now!”.

who the fuck is we?

“we?” you ask looking at him, “of course we baby!” Shawn smiles, “baby?” Sunny glares at Shawn. Shawn who wanted the floor to crack beneath him and swallow him whole. “yup!” he grabs your hand and pulls you towards the elevator.

“bye Sunnies! see you later! hopefully never!” Shawn mumbled the last part as he pushed you into the elevator.

what the hell was that interaction?

“what are you doing?!” you yank your hand away from Shawn. “this chick won’t leave me alone!” he reasons, you click the button to the sixteenth floor. “I don’t even like her!”. you shrug and shake your head, “that ain’t got nothing to do with me”

“oh, it does” Shawn chuckles. “what?” you ask, Shawn takes off his snapback and runs a hand through his hair before putting it back on. “don’t worry about it.”

“fine.”

it’s silent for a bit, then he speaks up again.

“do you really wanna know?”, of course he cracked. you roll your eyes, “no shit” you huff, “I’ll tell you if you’re nice to me” he crosses his arms over his chest. you look at him confused.

“I am nice to you! I offered to drive you here”

“you drove the whole group here”

“I gave you my food”

“you’re always giving someone something”

“… at least I’m not an asshole to you!”

“you slapped the hair colour off of me three days ago!”

you lean against the gold metal of the elevator, “well, let’s be real here, you deserved that” you point to him. “now tell me!”

“be nice to me first!” he demands, “I am! what more do you want from me?!” and Shawn smirks, aw hail.

“nah man” you wave him off, and he laughs. “nah, I’d rather die” you groan, “you want me so bad” he scoffs. there he goes again with that stupid phrase he uses to annoy you.

“how many times do I need to tell you that I don’t even like you? we’re only here because we have the same friend group.” you reason.

“oh c’mon baby” he steps closer to you, “everyone wants me” he flashes his pretty boy smile. you roll your eyes again, “not everyone” you scoff.

“oh really?” he steps even closer, you push him away and he leans against the opposite wall.

jeez, aren’t you there yet? you look up, tenth floor.

“you’re acting too confident for someone in your position” you say, Shawn chuckles. “too confident?” he asks, you nod as you step closer to him.

“I can do whatever I want to do with you, and you won’t say anything” you smile, you stand right in front of him. you place your hands on his bare chest, they’re a bit cold so they make him inhale sharply. “n-no you w-won’t”

“aww, the pretty boy is stuttering! what is it? cat got your tongue, baby?” you say the nickname back to him. “n-no!” he looks away, you grab his face and force him to look at you.

“you’re not the most subtle person, Michaels.” you begin and Shawn’s eyes widen a bit, “I know you want my attention, actually, you need my attention”.

Shawn gulps, no way.

“close your eyes” you whisper, you’re so close to each other you can almost see his breath hitching his throat. you lean in and Shawn begins panicking.

his hands and sweaty and his knees will buckle in any moment, you weren’t actually going to kiss him, right? right?!

he opens his eyes for a split second and quickly shuts them, and oh lord.

yes way.

he knows that you can hear his heart beating at this point, your lips and so close to each other, so close…

ding!

you giggle and pull away from him, Shawn opens his eyes, he’s breathless and shivering for some reason. you walk towards the door and look at him before leaving.

“you don’t need to tell me, I already know what it is”.

8:20 pm, dressing room.

you’ve changed your clothes into your gear and stood in front of the mirror of the dressing room as you laced up your boots. you were having a good time styling your hair and playing around with makeup, then you heard an agitating, loud noise.

“oh heyyyyy y/n”, you look up through the mirror and the blonde was standing behind you. you roll your eyes as you line your lips, “are you working tonight?” Sunny asked, “‘cause I am”, you look up again as one of your eyebrows are raised.

“really?” you ask, applying lip gloss. she sits on the chair besides yours and sprays enough hairspray to kill a bug infestation. “mhm, I’m working with Taker and Shawn”

your eyes immediately met hers through mirror again, now wait a fucking minute. “seriously?” you ask and she nods. you were confused, pissed off, but more confused. “what do you mean you’re working with them? it’s me, Bret and Owen against Taker, Shawn and Lita” you say.

Sunny smirks, “aw why do you care? are you jealous of me?”. you look at her again and huff before paying attention to your hair.

bingo.

if Sunny could cackle loudly she would, she was trying to get a reaction out of you and she got what she wanted.

“I’m not jealous” you begin and Sunny frowns, “I’m pissed than no one told me they were swapping out Lita for you” you say. Sunny narrows her eyes at you, “what do you mean me?” she asks. you lean back in your seat, “y’know, you can’t wrestle, never took a bump. kinda useless honestly” you explain.

she laughs out loud, “useless?” she asks, “useless?” she asks again. “be real y/n, the only reason you’re here is because Vince wants to beat WCW’s ratings”, it was your turn to laugh loudly.

you’ve actually had enough of this bitch. the amount of time you made yourself the bigger person when she’d try to pick fights with you, the amount of times she was rude to you for no reason, the amount of times you tried to befriend her only for her to put on her “bitchy blonde” act.

not today.

“be real Sunny” you repeat her words, “your only purpose in this company is to keep knobs clean.” and the smile on her face evaporated, “and you don’t seem to be doing a good job considering all the locker room has been on their knees for me” you say putting away the makeup.

“tsk, tsk, tsk” you snicker, “what a shame, at least other women get paid for what you’re doing”, Sunny felt stupid for even trying to begin with you.

“now be a good girl and go clean my championship for me.”

jesus wept.

Sunny stormed out of the room so quickly you almost missed it, and hilariously then. you got and idea.

the room’s door opened and you half expected Sunny to come in but it wasn’t her, it’s was someone else. “hey” he said through a tight lipped smile, “hey Rocky” you greet the man. “how are you?”

“oh I’m okay! just had a match with Hunter, light work y’know” he said sitting on a chair on the other side of the room. “yeah I saw the first five minutes of it, great suplexes by the way” you compliment. “thank you!” he smile.

“why are you sitting to so far away? c’mere” you pat on the chair next to you, The Rock hesitates a bit but he moves next you anyway, he didn’t want to seem like a creep but he’s always looked at you from afar. you’re really fucking pretty to him, and being this close to you… he couldn’t help but stare.

you both talk about your day and the matches on tonight’s card, you like him, he was probably one of the chillest people in the roster, right after Al Snow because no one tops him.

“we should work together after my thing with Taker” you suggest and he tenses up. “you want to work with me?” he asked, you chuckle. “yeah why not?” you ask back.

“I’m nowhere near as good as you are” he begins, “I mean, you’re New Japan’s ace, Antonio Enoki’s golden girl, probably the best women’s champion Vince has ever had” he said and the smile on your face was big. “aw, Rocky”

“no really, I would love to work with you but I need to work on myself first” he explained. “I’ll make you my right hand man, I’ll help you get over with the crowd.” you smile. “like a teacher?” he chuckles.

“exactly that! Y/n’s keys to success; step one: be kinda funny, step two: unclear, and step three: cash money Y/l/n. I don’t know but you’ll get there” you say.

“yes ma’am” he laughs, “now, your first mission as my apprentice, bring me Vince. I think there’s commercial break right now, and I have an idea”

<<9:19 pm>>

“are you-… are you serious?” you asked, you were in a random storage room with Owen. your voice came out more nasal as you had pinched your nostrils shut. “yup!” Owen smile, “and I’m so excited you don’t even know”

you look at each other then back at the buckets in front of you. disgusting. what’s disgusting?

pig shit.

you specifically asked for you and Owen to pull “one of your pranks” solely for shits and gigs, you were both rightfully excited but maybe the animal feces were a bit overkill. Vince was excited when you told him about your plan but this was… something.

“so we’ll have some staff set this up above the ring, and we’ll dump it when’s it’s time” Owen explained. “what if it misses and falls on us?” you ask, “we’re gonna be on the ramp, remember?” Owen says.

“…right”

you quickly left the room as you didn’t want the smell to linger on your clothes. you’re walking down the hallway when you bump into someone, “damn” you look at them, it’s Al Snow!

“oh, hey man” you say, “you good? you weren’t really looking in front of you” he looks at your head concerned. you shake your head, “I’m fine, but you’re built a mountain, jeez that was rough”

“why thank you, pretty” he laughs. “does my gear look alright?” you were concerned about whether or not the pig shit found its way to your clothes. “pfft, you look good” Al scoffs, “no, wait. I mean, your clothes look okay, no they look great” he corrects himself, you raise an eyebrow.

“I mean, you look good too! and your clothes- gear looks just okay! I mean great! wait-”

“I got the memo, Al” you laugh patting his shoulder before walking along. “talk! learn how to talk to her!” he whispered to himself.

10:23 pm, Raw <Live>

“Tag! Y/n is legal” Jim Ross bellows.

the crowd popped loudly, you were finally face to face with The Undertaker in the ring, weeks of storytelling and tension building up, but no one was dumb enough to believe you were putting an end to it here. they’re wrestling fans after all, they’re used to having their face spat on.

you quickly began running the ropes before hitting him with your signature frankinstiener and the crowd cheered again. the referee quickly separated you two and Taker tagged Sunny, there was audible groans throughout the crowd. relatable.

this mix of people made sense. you, Taker, Shawn, The Hart brothers and… of all people? …Sunny? both Lita and Luna Vachon are on Taker’s team, why is Sunny suddenly in the mix?

making quick work of her, you powerbomb her. you climb the ropes and pull Shawn over into a suplex. as Shawn lay on the mat holding his back you tag in Bret, he locks Shawn in a sharpshooter while you lock Sunny in one. if she taps your team wins, she’s the legal one after all.

Taker then interferes which causes Owen to run in and hit him with a clothesline, it quickly gets messy as the crowd cheers for the brawl that materializes.

after a bit of fighting back and forth, you and the Harts leave the ring, and Taker’s team are given a count out win. the crowd boos as the bell rings, you grab a microphone.

“you didn’t win this one, deadman. come find me when have someone I can actually wrestle on your team” you point to Sunny, and “ooo”s erupt from the crowd.

“but until then, enjoy your shitty win, fuckers”

suddenly, smelly brown liquid rained onto the three and the crowd went wild. Taker and Shawn were flabbergasted while Sunny stood there screaming bloody murder. the usually good looking diva was stuck covered in pig shit and wailing like a child.

what made you feel joy from within you was how Taker, Shawn and Sunny didn’t about the gift you and Owen brought with you, but Sunny’s reaction was the best.

just what she deserves.

before you could even reach behind the curtains, you could hear Vince laughing uproariously. of course, of course he thinks poop jokes are funny.

“what do you think of that?” Owen giggled, and Vince laughed some more. “wonderful!” he laughed, “wonderful bullocks!”

[thatsthetriick]

Stardust Crusaders getting stuck with Y/n (Request, hcs, slighlty NSFW humour)

ANON U ARE A GENUIS! I LOVE U FOR REQUESTING THIS! I HOPE YOU LOVE IT! 💕

Summary: Mariah’s stand (Bastet) manage to get you stuck with a stardust crusader, how woudl they act? Disclaimer: All characters are aged up to adults!, expect perverted or weird thoughts from the characters, some very touchy moments with the crusaders and getting into awkward and inappropriate poses, if you’re not comfortable with this please don’t force yourselves!  💖, reader is gn, and an adult! p.s I don’t know how to french sorry. Additional info: It might not follow the exact episode I’m sorry! More headcanons from me: Masterlist/taglist~ Requests/ask box are open: Ask/Request here! Header:  Daytime Shooting Star

Y/N and Crusaders stuck with each other Headcanons!

Joseph Joestar (Old)

➷ You’ll encounter Mariah’s stand by trying to open the lights to a bathroom (for some reason it’s close) but there were two electric switch boxes and you unfortunately got to touch Mariah’s stand and got a static feeling, you shrug it off and just find the correct switch.

 ➷ Awkwardly some random nails on the floor stabbed your arm as you wash your arms, you found this weird and just clean your wound and looked around, obviously you’ll be more cautious after that weird encounter.

  ➷ You’ll meet Joseph being chased on the hallways with knives and forks and you’ll immediately follow him to help him. You’ll yell for his name yet he runs faster and is unable to hear you

  ➷ Once you reach with him you two are panting and you help him take off the knives and forks from behind, “There’s a stand user that managed to make me attract metal.” He’ll explain as you calmly took off the forks and knives and he grunts, “Ow! Be careful y/n!” he’ll rub his back, “Sorry.” you’ll nervously scratch the back of your head as you chuckle.

 ➷”There she is!” Joseph starts running and following the girl as you follow him but you two slowly start getting closer together, “Look Y/n you’re kind of too close.” he’ll say as his pace slows down and you’ll tell him that he was the one moving towards you.

 ➷ The stand user manage to get away so now you’re stuck with Joseph shoulder to shoulder

 ➷ You two decided that you should probably come up with a plan so you held on to a wooden pillar as Joseph tries to pull away, “God! This stand!” he angrily exclaimed as he agressively kept pulling away from you and hits his shoulder to yours and the side of his waist to your side. “Ouch cut it out Joseph!” You’ll scold him.

 ➷ “Sorry Y/n, it’s just this stand is so annoying!” He’ll say frustrated and kept trying to get off you and you knew that he won’t really get off of you easily.

  ➷ He’s really angry at this stand and would probably say a lot of things and they’re nothing but complaints!

  ➷ Because of his constant movements you manage to slide the wrong way and now it looks like he is spooning you with him facing front and was facing your back now, and you were embarrassed but it seemed like he didn’t even notice the severity of the situation, espcially the citizens walking by were noticing you two and it looked weird out of context.

 ➷ “Y/n! Push as well!”, “Stop saying weird things!” you’ll probably scold him for saying that 

 ➷ Eventually you’ll tell him to stop pushing away because he just ends up grinding on you and once he notices he kind of looks away, embarrassed and apologize as you discuss the plan to him

  ➷ “What if we do it slowly and then you try to hold onto something with your hermit purple? Sounds good?” You’ll suggest, you eventually manage to separate but everyone still looked at your weirdly as you two ran to look for Mariah.

  ➷ Let’s just say you keep remembering that memory, you eventually sit down near the hotel and wait for everyone else to come back and Polnareff will be the one to ask if you two were doing some weird affair and that’s why you two got separated and you’ll just ignore him

Jotaro Kujo

 ➷ You’re probably buying from a shop somewhere and sat on a bench and felt static on your hands and look at the weird switch on the bench and ignore it. But caps of bottled drinks start getting stuck to you and unfortunately went through your ice cream and you had to throw it since there’s random caps on it, but once you go to the trash can all the scrap metal start going out and you start running away.

  ➷ Jotaro was probably just walking outside, he touched the switch by accident as well but he’ll be somewhere around with both hands in his pockets taking a peaceful walk 

  ➷ Unfortunately you two bumped into each other while being chased and sadly the scraps of metal still stabbed your back, you’ll probably groan on his chest because of the sharp pieces that just hit you.

  ➷ “Get off me.” He’ll say in his annoyed voice and you apologize and try to get away from him just to be dragged back to him, “What the hell do you think you’re doing.” he’ll add another comment as you literally struggle to get off him, even using both of your hands to stretch you out from his chest but you really can’t and Jotaro sighs in frustration.

  ➷ He uses both of his hands to hold your shoulder and pull you back just for him to realize that you really  can’t get off of him, his eyes widened and looked around he knows that this was a work of a stand though he doesn’t know the abilities yet of this stand. 

 ➷ “Tch” he’ll mutter as he tries to think of ways to get you two out of the public, he’ll carefully take off his arms from your shoulder and hold your back so it seems like you’re hugging him so it doesn’t seem awkward, he really doesn’t like attention put to you two.

 ➷ He’ll drag you to the alleyway and try to think of a way to separate you two just for you to quickly push off of him, he tries to tell you to stop but once you pull out another time you got dragged back to him and you two fell over, his hat was now on the streets. You two were on the ground with his back on the pavement and you on top of him — still on his chest.

 ➷ “Hey! Can’t you just-” you cut him off but getting up, now you were straddling him, or that’s what it looks like, “We have no time! The stand user could’ve gone away.” you fight back as he let out a groan of annoyance, “Hey! What do you think you’re doing!” he’ll scold you since you were now straddling him, honestly he had a shocked expression because you’re trying to get off of him so much and your just bouncing on him at this point, not only that but this guy likes you! So he was really embarrassed and flustered you can see the mixture of those emotions on his face, though it mostly consist of shock.

➷ Remember his cap on the streets? A bunch of teenagers saw the cap and heard mumbled noises on the alleyway and deduced that it must’ve belonged to the voices, as they check they saw you two in a awkward position.

➷ “Tch look what you’ve done.” Jotaro would complain(still flustered on what you just did) and you would answer back, “I’ll just do it faster then!” it was pretty weird saying that out of context and this guy was really feeling weird and flustered as you so he was trying to really stop you. He kinda likes the feeling though, which he felt guilt for thinking that and shrugged off the thought immediately while his face remained the same slightly shocked face with furrowed eyebrows.

➷ You’ll eventually get tired and just lie back down his chest as he thought of a plan, “Stand up.” he’ll demand and you two tried to stand up even though both of you are facing each other.

➷ He’ll use SP’s speed to punch himself off of you and it worked and you quickly walked away as far as you can from him, “You should get those healed, I’ll take care of this.” He grabs his cap and adjusts it to cover his eyes slightly. He was referring to the wounds you got earlier you were about to speak when he spoke first, “Good Grief, just listen for once.” he’ll say as he didn’t want to get you hurt anymore, honestly he’s a tsundere but a protective one and eventually defeated the stand on his own

Jean-Pierre Polnareff

 ➷ He’ll touch the switch as a curious thing as well but shrug it off and visit you since you two share a room, he’ll playfull knock on the door and wait for you to open it instead of just opening it since it was his room as well.

 ➷You’ll open it and he’ll start the conversation with a praise, “You’re so beautiful/handsome Mademoiselle/Monsieur “ and you’ll just accept it and let him in, but as he gets in for som reason your metal belt was pulled onto him and you were freaking out.

 ➷ He’ll just laugh it off and hug you back, “I didn’t know you felt that way cheri/cherie”, “You could’ve just asked for a hug!” you’ll playfully get angry at him and try to get away and as you did your belt still stayed on his rear pelvis area, “Huh? How did that get stuck.” He’s genuinely confused and held the leather part of the belt and struggle, you even helped him.

 ➷ “I’ll deal with this.” he goes to the downstairs bathroom to take it off there and as you watch him walk to the hallways you follow him and as you take down the stairs you accidentally held a wall with a switch and you’ll just look at the switch then to your palm then just move on waiting for Polnareff outside the bathroom.

 ➷ You’ll hear him angrily mumble something in the bathroom, you were about to open it to check if he was alright when he walked out before you did and then hand back the belt, as you grab your belt your hands was into a fist form and so was his, and at the end of his fist your fist just connected and he was confused with your touchiness today.

 ➷ He chuckles this off and teases you as you genuinely struggle to get your hand off and you tell him you really can’t take it off and he’ll shrug this as an excuse till he tries moving his hands away and realizes that indeed both of your hands were stuck. Eventually you two quickly connected, your front bodies facing each other.

  ➷ He honestly blushes at this and scratches the back of his head and realizes his hand was stuck there too and he slowly takes it off. “It’s a stand!” You’ll exclaim and both of you will get in the bathroom.

 ➷ You two were in a hugging position as you two mumble to yourselves as you two try to guess the stands ability, and the metal scraps from the bathroom was enough to explain it all. You suggest you two should try to pry out but you two kept getting back, everytime you two attempt to pull away you two will just connect with a hard impact that will make Polnareff feel awkward, “C-can we do this slower?!” He’ll exclaim loudly and people outside the bathroom could hear him say that.

 ➷ “Fine! I’ll be gentle!”  you will yell back as you move back till your back hits the marble sink, you then carefully let go of your hand off Polnareff and hold the marble sink even though you’re facing the other way, you hold on tightly to the sink and your chest and his chest disconnects and struggled with the lower parts because Polnareff was freaking out in a flustered way.

 ➷ He’ll be saying comments like, “It this really the only way?” and something similar as you try to disconnect both of your lower parts, as soon as you two disconnect he fell to a stall in a bathroom and you quickly ran out of the bathroom and tell him to hurry up.

 ➷ He’ll stay in the stall for a few minutes covering his eyes with his hands feeling so embarrassed and can’t stop replying the awkward scene. As you walk out of the bathroom another guy came in and looked are you weirdly as you ran away and saw Polnareff in a open stall and looked at him weirdly.

 ➷ You basically defeated the stand user on your own because you and Polnareff splitted up and he doesn’t know where you went and vice versa for you. Let’s just say he never brought it up again but he still thinks of it as night and still gets flustered at the thought of it.

Muhammad Avdol

 ➷ He’ll curiously touch it as well because he’ll find the switch in a weird area and he’s curious on what’s it’s use, after feeling the static he shrugged it off. He’s probably just looking for you, you in the other hand mistouched it as well.

 ➷ When he finally looks at you you’ll accidentally bump into him and he accidentally holds your wrist as you two bump, “Oh my dearest apologize Ms./Mr. L/n”  he try to take off his hand from your wrists but when he realizes he can’t he gulps and starts sweating trying to take it off, “What’s wrong?” You’ll question him since he was talking awhile to take off his hand from your wrists.

 ➷ “It seems like I can’t take it off” he says that as he uses his other hand to pull his hand — that was holding your wrist — nevertheless his hand got stuck to his other one as well. You try to hold his wrist to uncoil it but you also got stuck and you start to sweat and groan as well. As he tries to pull both of his arms out from yours he managed to just drag you to him.

 ➷ Now you two were in a hugging position and it was awkward because you two will probably be flustered just like how Avdol got flustered in the original episode, he’ll also be embarrassed and you will be embarrassed along with him and you two will suffer since everyone is already looking at the both of you being too close to each other.

 ➷ “We shouldn’t move that much, it would look weird.” he would suggest but you would try to move away from him and you two thought it worked as first so you immediately faced the other direction ready to run just for your rear end to be connected to his lower bottom (Just like Joseph & avdol in the orig), he’s honestly really embarrassed right now and this is the part where you’ll probably stop moving now since you were too scared to move.

  ➷ he gulps as he tries to think of ways to get off of you, “There must be another way.” he’ll mumble to himself and to you as you two look around for something to grab on, it seems like you two already though of an idea. Since none of your stands would be helpful in this situation there was no point in bringing them out so you two went to an area to hold objects. 

  ➷ Yeah that didn’t work, you two ended up in a awkward position as you two chase over the girl, but it was somewhat effective, you rode his back like a piggyback ride as he chases her, and with you using your stand to attack the stand user.

  ➷ After you two defeated the user it’s a bit awkward but you try joking it off even though both of you are embarrassed since a lot of people witnessed you two get into a weird position. You awkwardly tell him it will be a funny story to tell in the future as you two walk back to the hotel side by side.

Noriaki Kakyoin 

 ➷ Oh no yours and his would be in public which is embarrassing, the whole group is probably out on breakfast and he went to the bathroom and he washed his hands and dried it and without looking accidentally touched Mariah’s stand. He shrugged it off and went back to the table, and you in the other hand held a random rock that had the switch on it (it was big rock).

 ➷ You two sat besides each other unintentionally and he was showing you the menu and educating you about the taste of each meal and a brief history while Jotaro scoffs and respond with a “Tch” (he was genuinely jealous but his face said otherwise).

  ➷ You would be holding the menu and his hand held yours as he took a peak on the menu as well and continued his interesting facts, but as he tries to take it off he struggled and everyone questioned him if he was alright as Jotaro menacingly stares at Kakyoin’s hands on yours, “What’s wrong?” Joseph would probably ask.

 ➷ You would see Noriaki struggle so you decided to help him get his hand off tours but instead it got stuck and mumbled it out to the group that you couldn’t take it off, Polnareff would stand up, “Huh?” he would say and approach you two and start pulling both of your hands away from each other but Polnareff just groaned in frustration.

 ➷ “Mr Joestar! They’re right, I really can’t take it off!” Polnareff would panick and look at both of your hands in a jumble mess. Kakyoin’s hand behind the palm of your hand and your other hand behind his. Jotaro doesnt’ do anything at first and just watch as the whoel scene plays, but then as Joseph was about to try forks and knives start stabbing the both of you.

➷ Joseph would probably tell everyone to get out of there and would be behind you and Kakyoin as you ran to the other side of the street, Avdol seemd to figure out the stand’s power and stand user and informs everyone just to hide Kakyoin and y/n as they find the stand user. 

➷ The whole group would lead you back to the room and Jotaro insisted on joining Avdol and Joseph to find the stand user and since he knows that the room was secured and all metals are gone, unfortunately Mariah follow you and attacked you from there, you and Kakyoin were forced to jump off a window and you got into a position where he was spooning you, you two eventually fell to an empty alleyway and pried yourself off kakyoin but he was also flustered at what you were doing “Y-y/n perhaps we should try something else?” he would suggest.

 ➷ “Let me try one more time.” you got off as swift as you can and when there was hope it was quickly snatched away because you just got dragged back and you fell on him which caused both of you to fall, “Maybe  we should wait.” You would suggest as you two tried moving to a more comfortable positiong (a shoulder to shoulder position) and wait till Mariah attacks since she only saw you two go to the alley and not know what you were doing.

 ➷ She’ll obviously get suspicious of this and would take this opportunity to end you all, but your stand and HG managed to attack her and knock her outand you two end up normal again.

Yay! first request tysm anon! I’m still taking requests! I like writing as a procrastination method so please do suggest more! I just don’t accept like really hardcore things(seggs, brutal gore, etc) and I won’t take part 5 requests cuz im still watching it :3, I’m a very picky person and I’m really strict towards myself so I can’t write part 5 till I finished it. To request read the text above to find the request/ask box link and submit your requests there! I always do my best to immediately write down your requests! P.s this is hella long so I’m gonna edit it tomr! 

[leahwilliamson]

Manchester United Men and Women’s players as each other, a weirdly accurate and also completely wrong thread:

Mary Earps & David de Gea

Obviously. Our wonderful number 1s. Have saved us countless times and also fucked us over countless times too. Masters at celebrating in the same way too!

Millie Turner & Harry Maguire

Our “you don’t know what you have until it’s gone” centre halves. Never miss a game ever but when they do you realise your defence is complete and utter shite. Should easily get 10 goals a season from headers from a corner alone but they are both incapable. I should mention the only difference is that millie isn’t a lifeless robotic twat.

Ona Batlle and Alex Telles

Our sexy Spanish speaking loved by the whole fanbase attacking fullbacks. Need I say more?

Katie Zelem and Scott McTominay

The epitome of Yanited DNA. Pashun and Desiyah. Place in starting eleven solidified every week purely because they tahlk laek thes. That was such an unnecessary tackle to make. That was such a shit pass. Takes about 50 shots from the edge of the box in a season and scores one. I love you so much I hate you so much.

Lucy Staniforth and Fred

The other half of the terror twins/McFred. 0% pass accuracy and constant anxiety that they’re gonna get themselves sent off. Why the FUCK are you standing over this set piece. Weirdly cute and I’m weirdly endeared???? Why do skinner and solskjaer like you so much

Vilde Boe Risa and Donny van de Beek

Ah yes, VBR and VDB. I couldn’t even find a decent picture of vilde playing football for us. Done so dirty by our managers and never given a fair chance. I would give them a chance based on the fact they have sweet faces alone. Victims of the terror twins/McFred domination.

Jackie Groenen and Paul Pogba

The best vibes ever❤️may this stupid club never stop you smiling😭. Absolute beasts at international level then you come back to Manchester and the club can’t even play you in your best position. Please sign new contracts I love you

Ella Toone and Bruno Fernandes

The most obvious one yet. Our stupid feisty attacking midfielders/borderline centre forwards. They’re like little chihuahuas. I hate chihuahuas but for you two I make an exception. I’m so sorry you have to carry this club on your backs, I’ll try and get a chiropractor sorted for you. PROPER yanited, Ella is one of our own and Bruno loves the club so much it makes me ill.

Alessia Russo and Mason Greenwood

Have you ever seen either of them smile during a game? Our wonderful young english also proper yanited superstars. Just get on with their business and don’t make a fuss. Going straight to the top. Strikers turned wingers. Pls never leave me

Honerable mentions that I did consider:

Aoife Mannion and Eric Bailly - always injured and utter clowns. Class on their day and are just likeable people

Leah Galton and Jadon Sancho - where has your spark gone this season my loves :,( you deserve to be dominating those wings for club and country I hope you both find top form soon

[jaedore]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 | 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: jaehyun x reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: mythology!au, angst, romance

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, suggestive (just making out lol), mentions of alcohol, violence (mentions of choking)

𝐚/𝐧: if you are uncomfortable with these themes then i highly suggest you no longer interact! also, thoughts/emphasis are italicized. I'll just put the header on when I have the patience bc I felt like this is long overdue

[4.5k words]

You woke up finding your body was stiff and sore. It overpowered the pain in your wounded knees that stung with every movement of your limbs. Yesterday seemed like days ago, it felt like a fever dream. No, a nightmare. All you wanted to do was just curl up in bed, but then you remembered that your mother and you were having dinner at Jaehyun’s place. You’ve never gone to the Underworld, you didn’t hear many good things about it and that terrified you. What if Cerberus ate you? What if a wandering, lost soul stole your soul? The questions were endless and it sent you down a spiral of nervousness.

“Y/n?” Your mother softly came in, an apron hung around her neck and the aroma of breakfast food seeped into your room.

“Morning, mom,” you croaked.

“How are you feeling?”

Your mind flashed back to yesterday; Jaehyun in your room, tending your wounds, being flirtatious, or whatever. You remembered it as clear as the Fountain of Youth.

“I’m fine,” you answered, swiping the sheets away from your body to peer at the wounds.

You gently peeled back the bandage a bit only to see that the wound was almost gone. It held a faint discoloration as it was in the process of healing, but you were impressed nonetheless.

“So,” your mother began as she sat on the edge of your bed, “tonight, I was thinking about bringing a pasta dish. Or should we bring a cake? A pie maybe?”

“We can just pick up a pie from the bakery,” you brushed your hand in the air, dismissing any ideas, “it’ll be easier anyways.”

“Ah, yes. Hades does like his spicy chocolate pies,” your mother hums as she smoothes her palm against your bedsheet.

“Ugh, I don’t know how he eats that stuff,” you grumble, swinging your legs off your bed.

“Well, he is the God of the Underworld,” she raises both of her eyebrows at you, “so, what will you be doing today? It’s super nice out.”

Peering at your window, the sun shines brightly in the sky. The sky is bare of clouds and it does seem like a beautiful day today. You can imagine yourself sitting in the grass with a book in your palms. But you had more important things to do today, like beating the shit out of Maeve.

Your shoulders slump as you reply, “I’m going to go train with Mark.”

“You’re always training with that boy,” she narrows her eyes at you, “are you in love with him?”

“Mother!” You raise your voice, snapping your head to her, “No, I am not.”

Athena only laughs at your reply as she gets up and makes her way out of your room.

“Hey, Y/n?” her voice stops you before you step into the bathroom.

“Yes, mom?”

“You know you can tell me anything right?” she asks, her voice sweet and loving.

You nodded, recalling the things that happened last night at the beach. You haven’t told her and she must be worried, but you’re too drained and confused to spill it. So you spare her a small smile as you walk into the bathroom, not saying a word about what happened.

--

“Come on! You can hit harder!”

Annoyed at Mark’s ‘words of encouragement’, you purse your lips as you attempt to hit the boxing pad with your mitts. You were beginning to get tired, your arms burned from the repetitive movements and your knees ached as it chased after your feet. Mark hasn’t given you a break since you’ve gotten here and it’s almost been an hour of constant hitting.

Growing frustrated, you shouted in protest, “I’m done!” you throw your mitts on the dirt.

Mark sighs, seeing the frustration in your eyes, “Okay, what’s really going on?”

You exhale a short breath, “Nothing you’d be interested in,” you answer him sharply as you walk towards one of the rocks to sit on. Mark follows you closely, but quietly afraid to set off the fuming bomb of anger you always held.

“You know,” he starts, “I’ve heard a lot of mysterious things about you,” he plops right next to you.

You curl your legs up to your chest as you stare forward at the waterfall, “Like what?” you mumble, really not interested in what he’s heard because it’s all been bad stuff.

“You tell me,” Mark shrugs.

You tighten your hold on your legs, “I think someone’s out to get me,” you whisper.

Mark leans in to hear you clearer, “Maeve?” he whispers back.

You shudder, her name bringing back awful memories, “Yeah, but I’m not sure why. I have nothing that has to do with her. Sure, I provoked her on the first day, but...it wasn’t severe to draw it out this far.”

Mark’s eyebrows furrow, “What do you mean?”

You explained what happened last night at the beach party. You quivered as you retold the story from your perspective. It was a vivid nightmare that you didn’t know how to wake.

“Where is Lucas now?” Mark asked.

You fumed at the male’s name. He hasn’t texted or called you since last night. He would be the key to all of your answers, but he wouldn’t answer any of your messages or calls. Lucas was friendly, always nice, and shined bright like the sun. You just wondered what he was up to.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, picking up the mitts from the ground, “come on. We came here to train. Plus, I want to forget it all.”

Mark quickly jumps to his feet, “do you think this has anything to do with the feud between Hades, your mother, and her’s?”

You tilted your head to the side, “What feud?”

Mark smirked, “Guess you don’t know then.”

“Mark,” you lowered your voice when he dismissed your question, “what. Feud?”

“I’ll tell you if you can beat me,” he said, picking up the other pair of mitts that laid on the ground.

--

Storming into your house, you shouted, “Why didn’t you tell me about the feud you had with Hades and Eris?”

Taken aback, she looked at you with wide eyes, almost dropping the spoon she held, “w-what are you talking about?”

You inhaled, “Why didn’t you tell me that after the Titan War, Hades, and apparently Zeus, imprisoned Eris in Tartarus? And that you were helping them and now she’s after me, possibly because of it?”

“Who told you that?” your mother calmly put down the spoon and rubbed her palms on her thighs.

“Does that really matter right now, mom?” your voice rose in anger.

“Sit down,” she wipes her hand on a napkin, discarding it as she walks towards you, who begins to be seated at the dinner table.

“Eris and I were good friends, we trained together as kids. She was good, almost better than me, but there was always the tension of competition between us. One could only be good in the eyes of Zeus so we grew up and trained with that mindset. As we got older, we were still good friends, but there was always that silent tension between us. When the Titan war came to be, Eris rebelled and fought against us,” your mother sighed, anguish tainting the streaks of her face, “I tried everything in my power to persuade her to fight with us, to be on our side, but that’s when she said all of the things that were never said. That I was the favorite, I was the best only because I was the favorite, I was only fighting along Zeus because he favored me more than her. Not because I was good or tactful, she disregarded our training together...our friendship, the bond that we had growing up. It was stupid really, but eventually, we beat their army and imprisoned her. According to Zeus, she did more damage during the war that I wasn’t aware of. That’s why she’s imprisoned in Tartarus. I haven’t asked because she’s...she’s dead to me really.”

You leaned back in her seat, realizing that Maeve probably was only acting out of feeling because of the relationship between both of your mothers. Her mother was imprisoned in the deep abyss below the Underworld, while yours lived a perfect, rewarding life.

“Is that why we’re going to the Underworld tonight? To talk to Zeus?” you quietly asked.

Your mother nodded, “I know I should’ve told you. I’m sorry. I just didn’t think of the possibilities of her coming for you through her daughter because of me.”

You shook your head, “It’s fine. I just want this to stop,” your fingertips brushed against your neck.

“Well,” your mother sighed, peering at her watch, “you don’t really have time to get ready, so why don’t you rinse your face from the sweat, and then we’ll pick up the pie and head on down.”

Head on down. You whimpered as you stood up. And it wasn’t because of your sore legs.

As you washed your face, you wondered if Jaehyun would be eating with you guys. You recall that Hades said Jaehyun was always at the Mourning Fields talking to the souls that wandered there. There, holds the souls that wasted their souls on unrequited love. Does Jaehyun love someone? Or does he not? Then you remembered how he took up space in your room last night. His fingertips sent icicle daggers through your skin that you felt their phantom as you wiped your face on the nearby towel. With the hopes of Jaehyun not speaking to you tonight, you braced yourself on the journey of walking down into the Underworld.

--

You jumped back at the sound of barking. Cerberus. The three-headed dog barks at both you and your mother. No matter how powerful your mother, Athena, was, she had no power over a creature created to guard the gates of the Underworld.

“Why isn’t he coming? I rang the doorbell like five minutes ago,” your mother grumbled.

As if on cue, the gates opened and the growling sounds of Cerberus silenced in question.

“They are not the enemy or the dead, Cerberus. They’re our guests.” a voice rang above you. You found out later that the voice belonged to Hades, but you saw Jaehyun stepping out from behind the black, iron gates.

“Good evening, sorry for the wait.” Jaehyun bowed to you both.

Your mother paused, regretting the comment she made before as she saw how handsome Jaehyun was, “You’re Jaehyun, right? You grew up so well.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Tch “ma’am”. As if you actually had manners. You rolled your eyes at his sense of poise. You wonder where he learned such acts in a short amount of time.

Your mother nudged you, “do you have anything to say?” she whispered.

You inhaled a sharp breath, narrowing your eyes at the prideful male in front of you, “Thank you for having us,” you mumbled, barely nodding to him.

“Please, this way.”

Jaehyun led your mother and you towards Hades’ Palace, the stone tower tall enough to peek through the rising fog of the evening. Across the path to the left stood the Judgement Pavilion. Several souls lined up waiting for their next home where they’d be trapped forever. One of the souls snapped their eyes to you as if they knew where you stood, who you were. Their eyes were full of darkness and fury, almost consuming you into a tunnel of doom.

Jaehyun snatched your arm, his grip vice-like, “Don’t look at any soul who hasn’t been through the Judgement Pavilion, it’s their last chance to steal a living being’s soul before they’re judged into exile.” You hadn’t realized it but it was only you and Jaehyun who stood on the pavement that led you to Hades’ Palace.

You looked ahead not seeing her, “Where’s my mom?”

“She already went in. We didn’t even notice you were gone until she asked you something to only find you not behind us.”

You inhaled a sharp breath, “How long have I been standing here?”

“Around five minutes, you didn’t hear me call you?” Jaehyun’s eyebrows furrowed.

Shaking your head in denial you said, “No, I didn’t until you grabbed my arm,” you eyed down to your arm seeing that he still held you. Jaehyun’s grip loosened as he also realized that he hadn’t let go yet.

“Come on, let’s go,” his hand tightened around your arm once again as he dragged you towards the stone palace.

“I can walk myself,” you snapped at him, attempting to yank your arm from his clutch.

Jaehyun turned to you, his eyes cool and icy, sending chills down your spine, “I know,” he lowly said, “but I’m not taking my chances,” he gripped your arm again, leading you to his home.

The moonlight barely shined against the copper stone of his palace, creating sheer darkness looking like it hadn’t been touched for centuries. As unwelcoming as it felt, you could smell the complete opposite; a small scent of mint, the natural smell of tree bark, and the faintest feather of lavender. You glanced forward at Jaehyun, he hadn’t spared you look as you two made your way towards his home.

Jaehyun led you past the Asphodel Meadows, only tugging on your arm harder to bring your senses back. He was right to do so because looking at it was hypnotizing. You were even surprised that the ground-up dirt was able to grow flowers, and not knowing what kind they were, they were the most beautiful you’ve ever seen. The trees that sheltered them were bare of leaves and plants, creating a haunting aura, but it didn’t alarm you enough to look away.

“Come on,” Jaehyun tugged at you once again, this time gaining your attention.

You glared at him making you feel like some child that wasn’t able to concentrate. “What’s down there?”

He glanced back at you, mirroring your expression, “You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t. Now hush, we’re almost there.”

After a few more steps, you both came to face his home. The palace was bigger than you expected as it loomed over you. It felt like you were walking into your own exile.

“I thought you got lost,” your mother called to you as you walked in with Jaehyun behind you.

“She almost did,” he mumbled as he passed you to sit at the dinner table.

“She’s always been a curious one,” your mother laughed.

“That could get you in some serious trouble, girl,” Hades walked into the room with spoons in his hand. The high-pitched cackling sound of the spoon hitting the dishes made you wince, “come sit, it’s almost time to eat.”

Obeying Hades’ words, you idly sat next to Jaehyun with shame settling in your bones because you felt embarrassed that he had to drag your ass back to his place. The skin where his hands once grasped your arm felt tingly and you couldn’t burn it from your mind. It’s not like you and Jaehyun had many encounters, or rather, pleasant encounters, but you can’t help yourself but stare at him from the corner of your eye. Jaehyun sits with poise and pride, but you can see the burden he carries in the way he slightly slouches and the exhausted sigh that wriggles from his lips.

As everyone eats, you can’t help but think what Jaehyun’s thinking about. You can tell he’s thinking about something from the tension in his brow and the small pout coming from his bottom lip. From time to time, you ignore the small moments where his arm or leg brushes against yours or when you both reach for the same dish. And there’s a sort of tension over the table as everyone silently hides their comments as their food reaches their lips.

Hades is the first to speak, “So, I’ve heard you’ve had quite the events lately,” his tone low and cautious.

You clear your throat, “Um, yes.”

You begin to tell him everything that’s happened from the start of Maeve to the event in the Phantasms Forest. Not leaving out a single detail, you didn’t even notice your hands tensing up until you felt warmth from another on top of your chilled skin. Turning to your mother, she nods to you in comfort, letting you know that you’re doing well and you’re strong for facing what you’ve been through. Hades listens closely, not reaching for his food and feeling the slight disgust from those who caused you harm. Truth be told, he knew what was happening and why it was happening to you. Slightly nodding at your mother, they both lifted themselves from their seats and walked out the door leaving you and Jaehyun alone.

You turned to the male to your right, “Where are they going?”

Jaehyun shrugs, grabbing the nearby plates, “Probably to Tartarus.”

“What?” You snapped up on your legs, immediately following him to the kitchen sink, “Why?

“I’m sure you know that’s where they’re keeping Eris,” Jaehyun spares you a glance as he begins soaking a sponge in soap.

“Yeah,” you crossed your arms, “but why are they going down there? To talk to her? What is she going to do? What are they going to do? How long is this going to take?”

Tired of the overload from your questions, Jaehyun turns to you. Unbeknown that you were leaning forward towards him as you spoke, your eyes widened as you came face to face with the hot-headed male. His eyes were a pool of darkness with a hint of brown like melted dark chocolate. You stood in front of him with your feet glued to the ground. Heat radiated off your body as you parted your lips. Jaehyun’s eyes flickered down. He sharply inhaled to only let it out as he turned away and began scrubbing the dishes again.

“Bring the dishes to me and I’ll wash them,” he said before you could turn away from him.

You clutched the collar of your shirt. What was that? Your fingers trembled around a plate when you realized that he didn’t even answer any of your problems.

Setting them on the counter next to him, you snapped, “You didn’t even reply to my questions.”

“You talk too much.”

Stunned, you purse your lips and walk away. He can clean the kitchen by himself. You sat yourself in their living room, plopping yourself on the couch. If it weren’t for the dim lamp that flickered in the far corner of the room, you would’ve walked around blindly. The walls were painted in black, the rug was black, and even the couch you sat on was black. Everything was black like a fire had torn through the palace. The only color that caught your attention was the pictures that sat on top of the unlit fireplace. Making your way towards the photos, you found family photos of Jaehyun and his parents. It looked like a regular family you would suspect in the human world, a mother and father playing with their toddler son in the park. Except it wasn’t a park and it wasn’t a regular family. The field Jaehyun played on was the Field of Asphodel, but it was beautiful, there was greenery, grass, and beautiful flowers that bloomed around little Jaehyun. You wondered what happened to the breathtaking scenery. Your eyes landed on a particular picture that made the corners of your lips lift in the slightest. There, laid little Jaehyun sleeping peacefully in the embrace of Cerberus who also laid in slumber around the little boy, sheltering him from the rain that penetrated to the Underworld. Cute. The faint blur of a finger covered the corner of the picture, you wondered who took this photo. You thought that maybe it was his mother, Persephone, who no one’s heard of for years. The last thing you heard was that Hades kidnapped her after eating six pomegranate seeds and she was forced to live six months in the Underworld and six months in the mortal world, Earth. But she hasn’t returned from her six months on Earth. And it’s been 20 years.

“No, I don’t know where she is, nor do I really care,” Jaehyun said beside you.

Jumping, you didn’t even realize he was there. Holding your chest, you panted, “I didn’t even say anything this time.”

“I know,” he glanced at you, his gaze flickering back to your lips, then lower to your neck, “but you were thinking it.”

“I-”

“Come, I might have some ointment left for your neck,” Jaehyun doesn’t even give you a chance to protest.

Grabbing your wrist, you obediently follow him back into the kitchen.

“Sit,” he commands.

You look around in question, “Where the hell am I going to sit?”

Jaehyun reached up to the upper cupboard, the bottom of his shirt slightly lifting with his shoulders to reveal his back, “on the counter, of course,” you averted your eyes somewhere else when he turned to face you, “unless you want to sit on my lap,” he smirks.

You shake your head, lifting yourself on the counter. Even if you sat on the counter, you were only tall enough to meet him at eye level. Snapping the cap open, the familiar smell of mint and ginger filled your nose as he dipped two fingers in the gooey substance. A very sinful scenario flashed across your mind as he pulled those fingers back out, his digits drenched in the healing fluid. Squeezing your legs together, you cleared your throat as he crept closer to you, but that only led to Jaehyun sliding his free hand around your nape to pull you closer.

“I don’t bite,” he whispers, that smirk returning.

“I didn’t ev-”

You tensed as Jaehyun’s fingertips brushed on your skin to apply the ointment. Both of your bodies were so close to each other, the only blockage being your knees that dug into this stiff abdomen. It also didn’t help that Jaehyun’s face was incredibly close to yours. With one movement, your lips would’ve met.

“Relax,” he whispers, his eyes switching up to meet yours.

Chills shoot down your spine, a sudden heat pooled at the bottom of your stomach at the breeze of his breath. But eventually, you relaxed. Until you felt his hand on your neck rubbing circles. He repeatedly dipped those long digits of his in the ointment and reapplied it to your neck. To be honest, you thought it looked fine, it was still sore and hurt in certain places but it felt like he was lathering you in it. Once in a while, you’d wince at the pressure Jaehyun’s fingertips pressed against some of the bruises.

“Sorry,” he’d murmur. You’d thin your lips but relax as soon as he apologizes, his voice sounding sincere and gentle.

Slightly turning to the side, you let out a troubled breath, sharply inhaling another, repeating those steps over again and again until Jaehyun slowly pulled away. His warm hand slipped from your nape and your breath trembled, the cold air settling on it as soon as he pulled away. You watched him set the ointment back where he got it from, not missing the flutter of his skin that revealed the slight muscles in his lower back. Oh boy, you sighed.

Jaehyun turned back to you, “You alright?”

You nodded, “Will it still be there by tomorrow?”

Jaehyun walked to you as you stayed glued to the counter, he hummed, “Considering that you almost met death twice in the span of two days, it’ll take a few days,” he was closer once again, “just be careful,” his voice in a low whisper.

You could feel his breath brisk your cheeks. You didn’t know if it was your own heat warming you up or the faint warmth of the words that escaped his plump lips. You felt his abdomen on the curl of your knees like before and there wasn’t a way to bring them closer because it’d reveal to him what you were thinking...or feeling. Maybe you weren’t thinking clearly, maybe you were just lonely. But the longer you stayed in front of him, your desire to kiss him grew. He’s been nothing but cold and mean, but he’s been so kind and taking care of you despite his spiteful aura. You sucked in your bottom lip, stopping whatever trembling words attempted to escape from the cage of your tongue.

You sucked in a sharp breath when Jaehyun’s hands slid to your waist.

“Don’t do that,” Jaehyun brought him closer to you, prying your legs open to create space for him.

You sucked in another sharp breath, “Do what?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

Jaehyun seemed to be drawing closer to you, his gaze occasionally glancing at your lips as both of your breaths began to weigh down. Closing your eyes, you swore you felt his lips brush yours until you realized he wasn’t kissing you at all, but instead lifting you until you were back on your feet. With bodies still closer than the stars were to the moon, you tipped your head up to meet his gaze. Already looking at you, Jaehyun let out a heavy sigh.

You should’ve inhaled another breath because the next second, you found yourself against Jaehyun’s lips. Those lips that were so pink and so inviting met yours. It felt like Olympus was on pause and it was just you and him. No Maeve, no darkness, nothing. A heavy sensation of peace settled in the curve of your palms as you dragged them down his chest. You gasped when he bit your lip, sucking and, licking it for permission of entrance and you immediately complied, not giving it any thought at all. Those calloused hands of his wrapped around the small of your back, pulling you closer flush against his body, against his hips. Jaehyun’s tongue danced with yours, a gasp revering the way he held you close to him, the way with each stroke, you moaned enough to satisfy him. Until he pulled away.

With panting breaths and blinking eyes scattering across yours, you could see the panic in his eyes. You could see instant regret that pooled in the darkness of his eyes, yet you couldn’t help but inhale when he stepped away, the heat of his body replaced with his familiar coldness. Your eyes follow Jaehyun as he runs out of his home. Not saying anything to you, but leaving you alone in the darkness of his home. In the Underworld. Standing alone in his kitchen, you could hear the loud beating of your heart penetrating your ears, blocking the sound of droplets from the faucet, the hum of the house, and the confusion in your breath. Your fingers fly to your lips, the feeling burns yours like a scar. Was it something you said? Was it something you did? Gulping, you frantically searched the cupboards for a cup of water, thirst reaching your throat, but instead you found a section that opened up to bottles of whisky and wine.

Even better. Finding a drying cup in the sink, you poured yourself a glass of the bronze liquid, not caring for it’s age or make. You winced as the liquid scorched your throat, coughing at the slightly burning sensation that warmed your mouth, but anything was better than the searing feeling of his lips and the pain of when he pulled away.

[samsexualdeancurious]

Not a Duet But a Holy Trio | Chapter Nine

Pairing: Wincest, Wincest/Reader

Total Words: 2,165

Summary: When Sam finally arrives in Heaven for the last time, he discovers that, somehow, he has TWO soulmates - his older brother and a complete stranger.

Warnings: Reader Death, Canonical Major Character Death(s), WINCEST, eventual threesome smut (vaginal sex, anal sex, probably some oral, I’ll try and update this as we go), some made up lore shit for plot reasons. If the SPN writers can do it, so can I xD

Header editing by me.

---

You feel like you’re floating on cloud nine as Dean helps you mount your chosen wooden horse. You’re probably grinning like an idiot but that’s okay because so is Dean. He swings up onto the horse beside yours, looking almost comically large on a seat probably intended for a large child, and he immediately reaches across the gap between you both to take your hand.

“Haven’t been on one of these in years,” he admits, a little sheepish. “Sam and I didn’t really have time for them. Not since we were young.”

“It’s definitely been a while for me, too,” you say with a soft laugh, imagining Sam on a carousel. If Dean looks a little silly, Sam would look absolutely ridiculous. “Do you think Sam would like coming to a carnival?”

Dean shrugs as the music gets louder and the horses begin to move. “Maybe? We’ll have to ask him.”

It’s been so long since you last rode a carousel. You’d forgotten how soothing and almost peaceful the regular up-down motion of the ride is, even with the loud music and the chatter of the surrounding crowd. Dean’s hand is firm in yours even though his horse is moving in the opposite direction from your own, up when you go down and vice versa. When the ride comes to a stop, he slides from his horse and helps you down after him, his hands firm on your waist. Your face burns when he pulls you close to press a kiss to your cheek and you duck your head, feeling shy under all the attention.

“You hungry?” Dean asks, helping you step down off the raised platform of the ride.

“Definitely.”

“Me, too. How does the Roadhouse sound?”

Ellen’s burgers sound like the perfect end to the night and you tell Dean so. He weaves his fingers through yours and leads you across the street. It’s a bit of a walk but the night air is cool, especially once you escape the press of the crowded carnival and make your way out into the parking lot, and Dean’s the best kind of company for a night like this.

“My lady,” he says cheerfully, holding the Roadhouse door open for you.

“Dean Winchester!”

He grimaces but he’s still smiling when Ellen makes her way across the bar to hug him.

“Next time you leave for a week, I expect at least one phone call,” she scolds before turning to you. “Y/N, sweetheart, how are you?”

“What, she doesn’t get a telling off?” Dean pouts.

Ellen glares at him with no real heat. “Pam brought her over for dinner the other night while you and your brother were gone without a word.”

Dean’s face turns red and he at least looks a little ashamed of himself. You give his hand a squeeze.

“He and Sam apologized,” you assured Ellen. “We’re actually having our first date tonight.”

That gets Ellen in a good mood. She ushers you to a booth with menus and a promise of dinner on her, despite Dean’s protests.

“Sorry about her,” Dean says when she’s gone to get your drinks. “She can be a bit much.”

“It’s because she cares about you.”

His cheeks burn brighter and he rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess I’m just not really used to having people outside of Sam who do.”

You can see that. From the sounds of it, the two of them really only had each other for most of their lives. They’ve gotten used to not being able to depend on anyone outside of their partnership. Friends have come and gone but Sam has been a constant for Dean through it all.

“Well, you have me now,” you tell him and he smiles, taking your hand over the table.

“I do,” he agrees. “I honestly don’t think I could have ever imagined something like this.”

“I don’t think I could have, either” Your cheeks are warm. Again. These boys are experts at making you blush.

You both get one of Ellen’s classic burgers and they’re perfect, as always. The Roadhouse is pretty busy, probably as a result of the carnival across the street. The crowds aren’t nearly as intimidating now as they were earlier in the day, though. You had just needed to jump right in the deep end, honestly, and while you’ll probably never be a huge fan of crowds, you can definitely brave them in favor of a good time.

Date night with Dean definitely qualifies as a good time.

--

Sam’s still up when you finally get home, full of burgers and fries and still riding the high of the new developments in your relationship. He’s sprawled on the couch with a beer in one hand, a plate of pizza crusts on the coffee table, and what looks like a nature documentary on the TV. He sits up when the front door opens, smiling over the back of the couch at you. His smile widens when he sees your hand in Dean’s.

“It went well?” he asks, flipping the TV off as he stands.

“I’d say so,” Dean’s grin mirrors his brother’s. He gives your hand a squeeze and turns his smile to you. “Did you have a good day?”

“I had a great day,” you answer honestly, leaning your arm against his. “The carnival was a lot of fun and we went to the Roadhouse afterward for dinner.”

It’s clear Sam has questions but he doesn’t press. Instead, he gestures to the stairs. “Well, Dean. Walk her to the door like a gentleman.”

You both laugh and Dean does just that, leading you to the bottom of the stairs.

“I had a really great time tonight,” he says softly, turning to face you.

“Me, too.” You lean into Dean as he sets his hands on your waist. “I’m excited to see where this goes next.”

“Yeah?” Dean’s tone is hopeful and eager. “How about a kiss to start things off?”

“That I can definitely do.”

He brings one hand up to cup your cheek and draw you in for a kiss, just as soft and careful as the first time. You loop your arms around his neck and hold on just a little longer, soaking in every moment of this until Sam lets out a low whistle that has you breaking the kiss with a laugh.

“Fuck off,” Dean chuckles.

Still laughing, you press a kiss to the corner of Dean’s mouth and step away. “I’m gonna go get ready for bed.”

Dean lets his hands slip from your body, a little reluctantly, and nods. “Omelets for breakfast?”

“That sounds fantastic. Goodnight, Dean.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” Sam calls, still grinning that proud little brother grin. You give him a little wave as you head up the stairs.

As soon as you reach the top of the stairs, you can’t help an internal squeal and a little happy dance. You feel as light as air as you get ready for bed. You can hear the low rumble of the boys talking downstairs. You don’t listen close enough to make out the words but you can tell from their tones that it’s all good stuff, probably Dean updating Sam on all the details of the evening. You have a feeling you’re going to do the same in the morning when you get your chance alone with Sam.

For now, you get to dance around your room like you imagine a teenage girl would do after a first date with her crush. Never once in your whole life did you ever think you would have a soulmate, let alone two, and you’ve had so many anxious thought spirals wondering if they would even want you but now those doubts are being drowned out by the high of tonight. You’re so happy that you’re a little concerned about whether you’ll be able to sleep but thankfully the long day at the carnival takes care of that and you’re asleep within minutes of crawling into bed.

--

You wake up the next morning in just as good of a mood as you went to bed, especially when you’re greeted by the delicious smells of a Dean Winchester breakfast. You quickly get ready for the day and hurry downstairs to find both Winchesters already awake, Dean at the stove working on food and a sweat-soaked Sam finishing off his water bottle.

“Good morning!” you say brightly and they greet you with just as much enthusiasm.

Dean leans in when you’re close enough to press a kiss to your cheek. “Coffee’s in the pot and your omelet is almost done.”

“You’re the best.” You give Dean a little hug, sliding around between him and the island to get to the coffee machine by where Sam’s standing. “Did you go for a run?” you ask, eyeing him appreciatively. His t-shirt is clinging to his torso in all the best ways, his hair damp and curling gently at the ends. His breathing is still heavy from his workout and your eyes linger on the curve of his pecs as you fetch your mug from the cupboard above the coffee machine.

Sam is nodding. “Yeah, I figured I’d better get back into the habit since we can leave now. I found a little trailhead that loops back around. It was a great start to the day.”

“Sounds like it! Maybe we can hike it sometime?”

“I would like that,” Sam replies as you fill your mug with coffee. “How does tomorrow sound?”

“Tomorrow sounds great! It’s a date.”

That response makes Sam light up. “Yeah?”

You smile back at him, leaning against the counter with your coffee in hand. “Yeah. It’s about time, honestly.”

“Really is,” Dean agrees, turning to set a plate with a steaming omelet on the island. “Here you go, Y/N.”

You make a happy sound and round the island to take your usual seat, pulling the plate across the counter to you. “This looks amazing, Dean. Thank you.”

“I’m gonna jump in the shower,” Sam says, setting his water bottle in the sink.

“Make it quick and I’ll have an omelet waiting for you.”

“Egg white?”

Dean rolls his eyes but tips his chin up to accept a kiss from his brother. “Only for you.”

You dig into your omelet, humming softly with the first bite. It’s hot and fresh and absolutely perfect, as always. Dean gets to work mixing up an omelet for himself and then an egg white only one for Sam.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks, pouring his omelet mix into the pan.

“Mm-hmm.” You sip your coffee, swinging your feet a little. “The carnival really wore me out.”

“A long day in the sun will do that,” Dean agrees. “I crashed pretty hard, too. Not until I gave Sam all the details, though. I swear, he’s like a teenage girl sometimes.”

You laugh softly, cutting another bite from your omelet with the side of your fork. “What did he think?”

“He’s really excited.” Dean leans on the island, eyes impossibly green in the morning sun coming through the high windows. “I’ve put you guys through a lot, making you wait for me on this, but it means a lot that you let me take my time.”

“Of course!” You shoot Dean a bright smile, which he returns. “I’m excited to finally be taking these next steps with you guys.”

“Does that excitement include meeting our parents tonight?”

You grimace, laughing. You’d kind of forgotten about tonight’s Sunday dinner plans. “I am but I’m definitely also nervous.”

“Don’t be,” Dean says, reaching over the table to give your hand a little squeeze. “They’ll love you.”

You hope Dean is right. All of the Winchesters’ other friends and family you’ve met so far have welcomed you with open arms but that doesn’t help you feel any less nervous. You poke your omelet with your fork as Dean turns back to the stove to finish up his omelet. You’ve never met a partner’s parents before - you’ve never had a partner before, let alone two - and you’re not sure what to expect. What will they think of you? Of their sons sharing a soulmate? Sam and Dean said they’re fine with it but are they really?

“I can hear you thinking too hard,” Dean says without turning. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

“What’s going to be fine?” Sam asks, emerging from the bathroom. His hair is still damp, though from the shower this time, and he’s dressed in his usual jeans and flannel.

“Dinner at Mom and Dad’s place tonight,” Dean answers. “Right on time, Sammy. Your omelet’s almost done.”

“Thanks.” Sam slides onto the stool beside you, bumping your shoulder gently with his own. “And Dean’s right, Y/N. Don’t tell him I said that, though.”

Dean flips him off over his shoulder and Sam loops his arm around your waist as you both laugh. You lean into him, feeling much better already.

—

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—

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[jt-artsandfics]

I love Kung Lao so so much. And Bi-han from the latest movie. Any imagines you got I would love!! Maybe them being jealous and protective?

Jealous and protective. pt 1

I feel this alot they are two of my favourite characters and I loved the actors who played them so I'm going to keep with the 2021 movie for this version. Hope these are to your liking Bi-hans is more domestic protection but he is a jealous man. So don't touch what is his.

Warings Sergestive scenes, mention of sex, nudity, bathing together

Photos are not mine just used as headers.

Kung lao: jealous and protective

Kung lao when jealous gets this little pinch between his eyebrows, his jaw tightens to the point of pain and the young man stares. It's no secret really that Kung lao loves getting under people's skin, but when it's someone else doing it to him it's very much a different story. It's well known Kung lao doesn't like Kano, most of the shaolin monks didn't like the man. But what had him on high alert right now was how close the man is too you. His eyes dart across the fight pit, watching and waiting to see if his assistants would be needed for the brute of man. Kung Lao knows that you can handle yourself in a fight, he and Lui Kang had trained with you since you arrived long before the new fighters.

"Come on!, stop dancing around and fight. Unless you want a dance but best I can do for ya is the naked one" The Australian man calls out. "How about you focus on not getting your ass kicked Kano. It's starting to seem like it's your new hobby" Kung Lao smiles a little under the shade of his hat. His love knew how to rile someone up, wither it in a fight or shared moments between them in the shadows of there rooms.

Kung Lao doesn't know why he's jealous, let alone of Kano. His lover had made it very clear that they are not interested in the man. Perhaps it's the constant of flirty coming from Kano, the degrading, sexist and rasict comments that all came from this man.

"Oh you wanna play dirt hun? We'll play dirty then" kung lao tense as he continues to watch them fight making sure no harm comes to his partner. He can see Kano is hitting his peak of anger, he can see the red in his eye become brighter. Kung Lao is quick and almost in the blink of an eye he is beside his lover his hat being used as a shield against the laser once more. It is quite between the three, one of his arms are wrapped around his partner's waist holding them close as he slowly lowers his hat. There's many emotions there but the one which is the most obvious is the anger towards the Australian man.

"The training is over, Kano if you do not learn to control your anger or arcana you will continue to fail." Kung Lao said nothing else as he drags you from the fight pit. You let him pull you thought the many halls of the temple until you can feel your arm staring to hurt from the pressure he's putting on your wrist. "Lao?" Your voice is soft and soothing to his nerves. "Are you hurt?" His eyes meet yours as he finally stops walking. "I'm alright, but you on the other hand have a serious case of jealousy" you laugh lightly, it gains a grunt from him as he rolls his eyes. you run your hands over his shoulders, leaning up to place a kiss on his lips, he let's out a sigh of relief. His shoulders let go of their tension as he pulls you closer.

"Forgive me for being too over bearing, I just do not like that man touching you" he says resting his head on his loves shoulder. His hands rest against their hips as they both stand together is a blissful moment. "Lao you don't have to be sorry, I know very much at Kano likes trying to get under your skin just as much as you do his. But you happen to be the man I love and adore." He smiles bringing you in for another kiss. "I also happen to love you riled up and jealous, it doesn't happen often" you chuckle. "That it doesn't, my love"

Bi-han: jealous and protective

Bi-han is very good at hiding us I emotions, but when something happens that invoke him they show like wild fire. Jealous is something he feels very often, his sweet love he knows very much is his. Has stated on many occasions to reassure him. Not many people knew about you, and that's how he wished to keep it, anyone who found you ended up dead or mutilated to no recognition. your his love, the one thing that means the world to him other then the Lin Kuei. And he wouldn't let anyone into his house where his heart was.

"Bi-han?" He's staring again he knows, but he loves being close to you, watching you as you move around and work. It doesn't help that he's just tracked blood all into the house as he stand there watching them in the kitchen. They turn around to meet his gaze. "Bi-han!, baby what did I tell you about blood on the floors!" He chuckles moving closer to them pulling them into a reluctant hug that they squeal and try to escape. "BI-HAN!" "Wǒ de xīn, please let me enjoy this" he lifts you to sit on the kitchen bench ad he pulls us I mask off and kisses you.

"You're lucky I love you" he laughs lightly kissing their forehead then cheeks before returning to their lips. It's quite between them. Both enjoying being close to one another basking in each other's love. "Bi, did you find the man who broke in, and would this happen to be his or your blood, becuase you need a bath" he hums lightly pulling away a little seeing the small specks of blood now on your face and covering your hands and clothes. "His" is the only reply he gives as he picks his lover up and carries them towards the bathroom.

Bi-han sets them down in the bathroom as he begins to undo all of his armor, he can hear the water begin to pour into the bathtub. "You have blood all thought your hair Baby, how badly did you leave his body?" Bi-han turns to his love as he continue removing his clothing. "That man broke onto my home, where my Wǒ de xīn is, he is lucky I was will ikng to show him enough mercy to grant him a quick death." he finishes stripping of his clothes and makes his way into the bathtub, sinking down into it and let's out a sigh. His pale eyes flick to his love. "Tiánmì de ài, come" that's all he has to say as his little heart strips before joining him in the bath. He pulls them back against his chest, resting his head on their back. His lips trail sweet kisses against his lovers skin. His skin is such a different contrast from the hot water pooling into the bathtub. "Would you like an to wash your hair Bi?" He lets out a soft sigh as he nods into your shoulder. "Yes" he let's you move to face him resting against his legs. He reaches back grabbing a bottle of shampoo before handing it to his love. this is something he will fight for, the moments like this with shampoo in his blood soaked hair as he wipes blood off his lovers face. "Sorry I'm not as traditional as you Bi-han, I know I'm probably very different to what you were used to back then" his hands rest on his lovers hips pulling them closer. "You are everything to me, I do not care that you are not from my time. You are my heart, my love and I'll be damned to the hells if I ever lost you Tiánmì de ài" he leans down pulling his sweet one into another kiss as they run their hands thought his hair. "We are going to have a red bath soon baby" "then I hope the next man who tries to break in here will learn the same lesson if this is where I will be after I kill him" he leans back pulling his sweet partner to lay against his chest. "I wish to just stay like this for a little"

[unnuevosoltransformalarealidad]

A Moment

(Credit: Pictures edition @lemondropsonice​. Header edition: Mine)

Summary: A moment in life can change everything Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam x Reader Squares filled: Fix-It Fic for Make Me Feel Bingo // Friends To Lovers for TMAS // Angel for SPN Mixed Bingo // Friends To Lovers for SPN Fluff Bingo // Pregnancy for Winchester & Beyond Bingo // “I am who I am because of you” for Any Fandom Fluff Bingo Warnings: Spoilers from Season Finale of Supernatural, Anael is the best, friends to lovers, pregnancy, fight (mention), fluff, angst. Word Count:  1770 A/N:  This fic is my submission for The Fabulous 500 of @writethelifeyouwant​ challenge with the prompt A Moment. Enjoy the reading!

If the season finale is still a delicate topic for you, I encourage you to not read this.

After defeating Chuck and Amara and with Jack being the new God, it was time that Sam Dean and you started a new life. The three of you were starting to experience a life without researching or hunting. It felt nice not having that constant worry of losing someone in the hunt. Until, one day, you entered the library and you saw Dean with a concerned face looking at the computer with Miracle next to him. -Did you find something, hun? — you asked -Yeah. Tell Sammy we are leaving in half an hour — He said closing the computer. You were confused, he didn't say anything and just left to get his stuff. You went to Sam's room and explained everything -Did he say something about what it was? -Nope, just that we are leaving in half an hour, so better be hurry

Forty-five minutes later, the three of you were in Baby driving to somewhere with zero information about what you were hunting. When you got to the place, Dean was like an excited puppy. -Are you sure about this? — Sam asked -Positive — Dean  To be honest, you couldn't believe it. It was a Pie Fair. It was Dean's heaven. Sam and you were thrilled to see Dean happy. It’s been a long and hard road and finally, all of you were enjoying life. Sam, Dean, and you enjoyed the day in the fair walking behind Dean, he wanted to try every single pie that was exhibited.  Dean was too distracted to notice your discomfort, but Sam kept an eye on you. -You ok? — he asked -Yeah. It's just there are too many flavors to taste that it kind of makes me feel sick — you admitted — I don't know how Dean can handle that much pie — you giggled -Honestly, I don't know. I'm full of just seeing everything. Come on, let's find a place to sit and rest a little

You were thankful that Sam was looking after you. You hadn't noticed, but you weren't feeling that good, you were nauseous and tired. While you waited for Dean, you started to feel more sick and sore. You leaned into Sam and he hugged you -I think I’m getting sick — you said disappointed -Don’t worry. When Dean comes back we go back to the motel so you can rest a little -Thanks, Sammy — you said and smiled

When Dean got back, he noticed how you were curled up next to Sam and he got worried -What’s wrong? — you listened Dean asking in a concerned tone -She doesn’t feel good, she might be getting sick — Sam explained You weren’t asleep, but you were enjoying the calmness that Sam radiated and his scent kept your nausea at bay.  -Let’s head back to the motel so she can relax a little — Dean mentioned -I’ll take her, don’t worry — Sam said -Thanks Sammy — you repeated but this time it was a whisper

The next day, you heard on the news that two little boys were kidnapped and their parents had been killed. This case didn’t show signs of the supernatural being involved, but it was worth the shot to investigate it. Sam and Dean went to the crime scene to check it and you stayed behind in the motel doing research.

You were too focused on reading when it hit you. How could you not notice? The symptoms, your missing period, the constant stops to pee. You might be pregnant and you hadn’t realized. You needed to check it out. Since you’ve been more sexually active for the past year, you carried a pregnancy test hidden between your period things, a place where Dean wouldn’t look. While looking for it on your duffle bag, you could see your emotions flowing your system, your hands shaking and sweating, your heartbeat going a mile per hour, your nervousness, the anxiety of the result, your bladder begging to be emptied, your tears falling freely, you didn’t know if they were of happiness or fear, but they were free.

After peeing on the stick, you had to wait for five minutes. The longest five minutes in your life. All the emotions you were feeling while looking for the test, were present now but they had intensified. You took this time to think about Dean and you. You haven’t talked about starting a family, you’ve been officially his girlfriend for almost two months now but you’ve been dating without labels for the past year or so, there was much love between you, it became natural, and Sam was happy for the both of you. He knew how good you did to Dean and Dean did to you. He told you once “you were meant to be”

Your phone started to buzz telling you that the timer was off and the five minutes were over. You walked to the sink, where you had put the stick, and looked at it. There it was, the two bright pink lines, telling you it was positive. You were pregnant with Dean’s child. A big smile appeared on your face and instinctively you put your hands over your belly looking up “Thanks Jack” you mouthed.  You couldn’t believe it. You were pregnant, how would Dean react? How were you going to tell him? Your mind was racing with insecurities and fears. There were a lot of things to think about.

You heard the front door of your room getting opened, you gathered all the things to hide them when a knock on the door startled you -Y/N, you here? — Sam asked -Yeah, give me a minute When you got out of the bathroom, Sam was gathering some silver bullets and machetes -A vamp nest? — you asked and he nodded -You ready? — he asked and then he looked up and saw your face — are you okay? -I’m pregnant — you blurted -Are you serious? — You nodded Sam left the weapons behind and approached you, hugging tightly, you could feel a few tears falling from his face. -You’re going to be an uncle — you said proudly -I can’t believe this — I’m so happy for you. Wait, does Dean know? -No, I’ve just found out — you explained showing the test -I shouldn’t let you come to the hunt — he realized -Please — you begged — It’s going to be my last one as soon as Dean finds out -Fine -And I will tell Dean once the hunt is finished

Sam and you arrived at the warehouse where Dean was waiting for you two. He handed you your machete and went inside, giving you a peck on the lips first. You felt scared for the first time in a long time. You couldn’t lose Sam, you couldn’t lose your baby, you couldn't lose Dean. At that moment, you had the chance to get your perfect little family. You promised to yourself to be more careful because you were the only thing the baby had.

Sam, Dean, and you were in sync as if you had never stopped. When you realized, all the vamps were dead. Sam checked on you first, you were closer to him and then he went to check on the kids. You approached Dean and saw him, you couldn’t believe your eyes -Sam! — You yelled and a sob escaped He came running and when he laid his eyes on you he knew. Everything got silent for a moment, you were devastated, heartbroken, the love of your life, your baby’s dad was gone and you never had the chance to say it. You held onto Sam, he was your rock now. He let you cry in his embrace for what felt like a lifetime. 

You saw how Sam put Dean’s body on the floor, you felt when Sam kissed your forehead and said something about burning the body, but you stayed there lifeless, with tears flooding freely, once again but this time were of sadness. Dean needed to know, he might not be conscious but his soul could listen, you knew it, you felt him next to you.

With one of your hands in your belly, you put his on top of yours. Taking a deep and unsteady breath, you poured your heart out to him -A moment can change everything. A moment with you has changed everything — you smiled a little — De, I’m pregnant. We were going to be parents and I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell you how much I love you. I couldn’t tell you that I am who I am because of you. Why we couldn’t have a moment so I could tell you everything? — you started to cry harder

A bright light appeared and you looked up

-Who are you? — you asked scared but feeling safe with her -I’m Anael, an angel. We haven’t met, but I wanted to give you what you deserve. — she said kneeling next to you — You deserve to be happy, with him next to you  -Why? -Because you deserve it. Both of you. You did a lot for this world, is the least I can do — she said and touched Dean’s forehead Her grace lighted the warehouse and she closed her eyes -He will wake up, don’t worry. I’ll be protecting your baby, I promise — she said before vanishing -What happened? — Sam said -I.. I…  — you were out of words. Sam held you — I was saying goodbye and she appeared saying that we deserved to be happy for what we did. -Who is she? — Sam asked confused -Anael — Sam looked even more confused Dean coughed and you couldn’t believe it. He was back -Why I’m back?— he said with a grumpy face.

Sam and you smiled at him, he was already complaining about something you didn’t do. Sam helped Dean into a sitting position and you hugged him tightly, Sam following behind. You were too afraid that if you let go Dean would disappear -De, I’m pregnant — you admitted. You’ve lost one time, you weren’t going to lose another one -I know sweetheart. I heard. I love you too — he said and kissed you

You left the warehouse and got back to the bunker. You were ready to start this new life with your little family. One moment can change a life, one moment can change everything. At that moment, you were ready to get that apple pie life the three of you wanted.

Tag List (Is open - ask to be added)

@writethelifeyouwant​ | @girl-next-door-writes​ | @supernatural-jackles​ | @spnmixedbingo​ | @spnfluffbingo​ | @winchesterandbeyondbingo​ | @anyfandomfluffbingo​ | @iguessweallcrazyithinktho​ | @thevelvetseries​ | @mrspeacem1nusone​ | @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem​ | @caplanreads​ | @wonderfulworldofwinchester​ | @akshi8278​ | @waywardbaby​ | 

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct Chapter 10

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6500

Warnings: Language as always, grief, loss and some second base action.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who reads, re-reads, points out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

May the flowers remind us why the rain was so necessary - Xan Oku

Chapter 10

Your eyes fly open - heart pounding, mouth dry- as the nighttime movie that played behind your eyelids finishes abruptly. Hugging your arms around yourself, you try to steady the impact of that injection of adrenaline into your veins, drawing deep breaths into your lungs as you gaze into the oil slick of darkness surrounding you. The sounds of day are yet to kick into being as your phone screen illuminates 03:02 - the trains not yet pulling out of their sidings, sirens still silenced for the most part. The night air is just punctuated by the rhythmic pitter patter of rain upon the roof and the sweetest little snores still rising steadily from your…

Your boss.

For fucks sake.

Once could be called a mistake, even if it was a twelve year long one. But back doing this shit again? Sheer fucking stupidity. Your head drops into your hands as a stab of pain cuts through your gut. What the fuck do you do now? Marcus so honestly put his heart on a platter for you last night- could you be the cold hearted, callous bitch that throws it back in his face? All of your body fizzes with fear - your muscles twitching with the cortisol so rather than irritate him with your fidgeting, you slide out of his bed.

Bare soles on the night-cooled wooden floors help to ground your flighty soul as you walk around the unfamiliar apartment. Whilst the exterior dampness can only come as far as pretty patterns on the window pane, the chill causes tiny pinprick goosebumps to stand proud against your skin. You finally settle cross-legged on the floor by the French doors leading out to the balcony, watching the raindrops race each other down the glass - mentally cheering on your favourites as they glide towards the inky pools gathering beneath them.

With your mind so lost in your new-found sport, you aren’t entirely aware of the arrival of a warm, breathing blanket that curls itself around your body languidly before you are tightly encircled by long limbs and gentle nuzzling into the side of your neck, “What’s up, honey?”

A small, precious kiss is pressed into your temple before the sleep-thick murmur continues in your ear, “Thought you’d left. So happy to find you here.”

Leaning back into his broad chest, you allow the expanse of his form that is wrapped around you to consume your body whole, “Bad dream. Couldn’t get back to sleep and didn’t want to wake you.”

“‘M sorry,” Marcus slides you slightly to his left so he can search your face for the answers that you are so incredibly reluctant to give, “Your heart is racing - do you want to talk or just have things that will make you feel better?”

Initially, you don’t feel able to catch his gaze, having thought about breaking his heart only minutes prior to his soothing arrival but when you do, everything hits you like a ton of bricks. The deep pillow creases of his cheek, sweetly mussed up hair and the earthy hues of his questioning eyes make your fist fly to cover your eyes as your tears echo the deluge of rain.

He doesn’t speak. Just holds you close. Cradling you in his arms as your body shakes into his. Marcus allows you to sit with your pain awhile - not pressuring you to speak or offering any empty platitudes to solve it- allowing the hurricane of grief to rip through you, all the while tethering you to the ground.

As the tears exhaust themselves, Marcus leaves and your eyes dance in panic at the loss of his soothing touch. The relief of hearing his kettle start to boil and then the gentle roar of taps filling a tub, stretch a ghostly pair of arms back around you, soothing the ache beneath your ribs. A hand reaches down to you offering a way out - gently hoisting you back onto your feet.

“C’mere sweetheart,” Marcus pulls you back into his chest, pressing a line of kisses along your hairline, “I’ve made you a cup of camomile tea and run you a bath.”

He makes to leave you but your haunted eyes and tight grip upon his wrist beg him to stay, “Honey, I don’t want to overstep the mark here. I’m sorry that I asked you to stay. Overwhelming you like this, isn’t fair of me.”

Trying to eloquently respond to him comes out with just a snotty sad gasp so you vehemently shake your head tugging his hand towards the bathroom. Once inside the metro tiled space - pausing between heaving breaths - you manage to squeak out in your juddery voice, “Please stay with me.”

“Please don’t feel guilty - this is just shit I need to work through,” you mumble as you fiddle with the hem of Marcus’ t-shirt, feeling his skin twitch as you accidentally make contact, “I’m sorry that it’s having a knock on effect for you.”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he leans in to sweetly kiss your forehead, “I’ll turn around while you get in but I promise not to leave.”

“I don’t care if you see me naked - it’s just a body,” you mutter slightly confused by this sentiment when he’d been stroking your breasts earlier. As you start peeling off the t-shirt you’d borrowed from him, Marcus swings to face the bathroom door quickly.

“No,” the sharpness of Marcus’ response steals the air from your lungs momentarily - you stand in front of him like a rabbit caught in headlights, “I’m sorry, sweetheart - didn’t mean to be so forceful. No - it’s not just a body. It is your body and I wanna enjoy it properly when you’re not so upset. It would be taking advantage.”

Slowly lowering yourself into the delicious expanse of Marcus’ bath, you allow the warmth to soak into your aching bones. The water cocoons and hugs every inch of you as you permit it to unknit every knot of tension within your body.

“You can turn around now.”

A kind smile plays upon the deep creases set by Marcus’ eyes, “Tilt your head back.”

Reaching behind you, he turns on the shower attachment - the water bursting forth in a perfect summer rain across the skin of the bath water. Like a parent with a child, he checks the temperature until it reaches a soothing heat and runs it over your hair, soaking every last strand, washing away the mix of salt from anxious sweat and tears. Dropping the shower head in the bath, he then grabs a generous squirt of shampoo in his hands, lathering it into your scalp, massaging until you feel like a gelatinous blob under his skilful touch.

After rinsing every last bubble and sud from your hair, Marcus then squeezes out some conditioner - the bottle releasing the most indecent sound that has you both giggling like small children. Having coated his digits well, he starts to run his fingers through your hair - combing every strand with his hands, ensuring there isn’t a single knot to be found. A gentle finger beneath your chin tells you to tip your head back again as the shower rinses the excess away.

Settling back on the plush bath mat, Marcus passes you your tea silently and you just sit. Sit there in companionable silence - without an ounce of awkwardness- just both sipping tea as your body gradually accepts its need to sleep again.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Give me two minutes and I’ll be ready,” Marcus gazes softly after your disappearing form as you spin into your bedroom to get dressed for work. It takes every bit of gentlemanly restraint that he possesses not to follow you, run his hands over your silken skin and get a hit of your delicious taste. Instead he re-settles his mind by looking around your flat having finally been allowed a peek inside your inner sanctum.

He doesn’t quite know what he expects to see but it certainly isn’t this. It feels an odd mix in there- piles of cushions and blankets but no photos. No pictures decorating the place yet multiple empty frames propped against walls, waiting for their stories to be told. Your home isn’t really a home at all - it is just a roof over your head with nests for you to curl into exhaustedly.

“Have you been here long?” he asks quizzically, spying the battered moving boxes that have obviously been rummaged through for a missing necessary nick-nack or two but never having been fully unpacked. Marcus runs his hand over the coarse, corrugated cardboard and light spattering of dust coating them, wondering what secrets you wish to keep hidden in there and if you will ever open fully to him, to allow him to lighten your load.

“Almost two years,” he hears you muffledly answer through the jumper you pull over your head as you momentarily reappear in the doorway of your bedroom - a vision of radiantly soft curves- just knickers and a mess of limbs arguing with the item of clothing, before your breasts get hidden under the striped knitwear.

As much as Marcus tries to stop himself, his body takes the required steps forward so that his fingers can be satiated with the warmth of your skin. He doesn’t kiss you yet - the heat of his breath just dusts the shell of your ear as he inhales the scent of his shampoo in your hair.

“Look at you,” he murmurs - shaking his head in disbelief as he grabs your wrists and pulls you into him, “Beautiful.”

Using the back of his hand to release the hair caught in the collar of your jumper, Marcus takes a moment to drink in all your features. The flecks of gold in your eyes, the sharpness of your cheekbones, the streaks of wisdom in your hair - how were you, the beauty that you are, interested in him?

And then you’re kissing him. Your mouth open, soft lips inviting him into your inner sanctum. He feels your fingertips stroking into the nape of his neck, your nails scratching into the hair that twists and curls there. Shivers of pleasure run down Marcus’ spine, making him pull you closer as your touch sparks life across his body. Your gentle push causes Marcus to startle - to stumble backwards, falling back onto the sofa, sending cushions scuttling across the floor.

Feeling his jaw tic as you clamber into a kneeling position above him, Marcus tries to steady his breath by focussing on the small details of you. The darker spots of pigmentation where the sun has permanently kissed your skin. The divots of your collarbones just peeking above your sweater. The small reminder of a childhood misadventure just above your right eyebrow.

Nope. This is not working. God, I want her.

“Lower those goddamn hips,” he growls, “Sit down.”

“I can’t,” he hears you whimper, eyes shut tight, “I’ll make a mess of your trousers.”

Marcus groans as he considers the sweetness that is encased by those bright pink, lace edged panties - still not quite believing that it is him who has had this effect on you. When you grab his hands that have been stroking little circles by your knees and pull them to your ass, the heat in him rises as he squeezes and needles the delicious flesh beneath.

“This is gonna be hard having you work so close,” as soon as he hears the words leave his mouth, he regrets it. The little twitch between your eyebrows. The tremble of your bottom lip. The slight shift back of your weight upon his lap. Marcus catches them all.

“I’m sorry. Nush, I shouldn’t have…”

As your weight rocks back away from him, leaving his body quickly cooling with your absence, the air is punctuated with your muttering of one word over and over. Each utterance a bullet coated in guilt hitting him sharply.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Scrunching his eyes tight shut, he rocks forward, head in hands. Should he come after you? Should he leave? Fuck, Pike.

Hearing the creak of your bedroom door, Marcus lifts his head in your direction - his eyes throwing a million apologies to you, “Nush, I’m so sorry - I didn’t mean to upset you. That’s the last thing that I’d ever want to do.”

He watches as you walk across the floor - smaller shuffling steps rather than your usual confident stomp, your eyes red-rimmed and glassy and your breathing a little jagged - and feels like he’s just crushed a butterfly in his hands when all he was trying to do was appreciate its beauty. Water starts to pool in the corners of his eyes as he blinks hard to warn them off - after all, he didn’t need to give you any other reason to walk away from him. A small grateful smile creeps across his face when you settle between his knees, resting your arms across his lap - your tear-streaked face looking up at him.

“I’m frightened,” he hears you whisper, “Repeating past mistakes is sheer fucking stupidity.”

Marcus freezes, the blood in his veins turning to ice as he awaits your verdict.

“I can’t do that again. You cannot become another Jasper to me. The relationship that never was with all the hiding.”

“I don’t want us to hide,” he hears his voice betraying him as fear courses through his synapses, his hands aching to touch you. Hold you.

Please don’t let me lose her.

Please don’t let this be it.

“Can I touch you?” Marcus quietly, carefully checks before daring to reach out. He watches as a cloud of confusion washes across your face at his request.

“Of course you can. What? Hang on, did you think,” you pause, brow furrowed, “Did you think I want to stop whatever this turns out to be?”

With his shoulders slightly hunched, one hand reaching behind to rub the base of his neck, Marcus nods, “Yeah, a bit. I…”

“I don’t wanna fuck this up, Nush,” he reaches forward to stroke your wrist.

“Me neither, but we will,” your words take a moment to register with him, “We have both experienced so much - good and bad - that we will put our proverbial foot in it with each other.

“But, I hope that in time, with our collective pasts and the streaks of grey in our hair, we may also slowly learn how to communicate and say when things are a bit shit for us and why. Why my instinct is to run screaming from things and why you think everyone you love is going to leave.”

Marcus curls forward so he can rest his forehead against yours before placing a small kiss there, “Now you’re really gonna have to be two minutes if we’re gonna get to work on time. I’m just gonna shut my eyes until you’re dressed so I’m not tempted to make us late.”

“You think that’ll work?”

Chuckling at the wink you throw at him over your shoulder, Marcus starts to allow that tiny ray of hope he’s been burying for years to shine again.

✪✪✪✪✪

As Marcus opens the door for you, an overwhelming wave assaults your senses. Noises from tapping keyboards, phones ringing and computers blaring, the overwhelming scents of fatty, sugary yet discarded breakfasts and coffee hits hard but it’s the tiny, surreptitious stroke at the base of your spine gives you the kick you need to go in and start your day. A steaming coffee is thrust towards Marcus behind you and some case files are handed to you by a smiling Andy, “Morning Sir, morning Nush. What time did you manage to get cleared up?”

“Between the two of us, it didn’t take too long,” you grin at the PA before looking over your shoulder to find Marcus smiling at you, “Think I was asleep by eleven.”

“Snoring away,” Marcus barely audibly whispers, making your eyes widen.

“Ready for the meeting at nine o’clock, Sir? I have everything set up in the conference room, ready to go…” Andy sweeps Marcus away from you as you head over to your desk, spying the hot cup of Java awaiting your arrival.

New piles of paperwork seem to litter your desk, replacing the ones you’d tried so hard to clear on Friday afternoon. Office life. That it is a life is a bit of a lie, as every soul within your office space looks like it is in some stage of decomposition. Kiri appears to be in need of another weekend to get over the two days of rest just gone, Dian is yawning into her coffee and as for Harper, well, there’s a part of you that doesn’t quite believe she’s fully human with the way she’s already ploughing through her work.

When 9am finally rolls around, it feels more like two in the afternoon. Marcus sticks his head out of the door to call everyone into the meeting and is met by several groans from the team as they reluctantly shake themselves from their chairs and drag their Monday fatigued bones towards the conference room. At the oval, walnut table, you sit sandwiched between Dian and Kiri, directly opposite Andy in a hopefully not too obvious ploy to not be too close to Marcus.

“Good morning everyone, I’d ask you if you’d all had a good weekend but I think we spent enough time together to know that we all did,” a chuckle rises from your office mates as Marcus welcomes everyone, “I wanted to have a catch up this morning as the Soutine that Agent Pierce and I checked in Lyon, has come back as a definite fake. The verdict was reached late Friday afternoon and the French authorities are currently trying to trace its origins.

“We also received word this morning that a Modigliani has turned up in Sotheby’s - they have their own art fraud team but hopefully we will get a look in soon. Agent Pierce, I know I haven’t asked you to prep but could you explain to the team what the issues are around his work?”

“Sotheby’s?” you question, staring straight at Marcus and entirely ignoring his request, “I can get in there now as my best mate works in the fraud team.”

“Hephzibah?” Andy catches your eye, “Didn’t realise she’d transferred over from Scotland Yard.”

“More money,” you shrug as Andy presses his lips together and nods in agreement.

“No, Agent Pierce, I’d like us to hang back for now,” Marcus responds, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, “If you could give us some of your insight about Modigliani’s pieces, please?”

Slightly taken aback by Marcus’ firmness, you take a moment before responding, “Modigliani’s back catalogue is a fucking mess as he used to give out sketches like a fortune teller.

“Jean Cocteau said that he was drawn by Modigliani roughly fifty times but he only ever owned one picture. Prices have skyrocketed over the past decade with one going for $170.4 million dollars so he’s very much a member of the $100 million club along with Warhol, Picasso et al but not quite at their ethereal prices.

“One of the main things about Modigliani is that the love of the man is not easily separated from his art. Over the years, he has been painted as somewhat Byronesque in his exploits by salacious biographies and films - very much sex and drugs and rock n roll. A bohemian who lived in Montparnasse and Montmartre at the Fin de Siecle - he was known by all the artists who lived there at the time - Picasso even said he was the only man in Paris who knew how to dress.

“To be honest, whilst he was hot - soulful dark eyes, ebony, wavy hair and a beautiful bone structure with an extraordinary amount of intelligence and eloquence-”

“Ah, so you have a type?” Harper mutters into her notes.

Your cheeks flush and eyes dart around the room, hoping that Marcus didn’t hear that as you desperately try to summon a consummate professional performance for the others, “-It is hugely difficult to separate the man from the myth but the main issue due to his profligacy with his art, unlike the other greats who get over $100 million for their work, Modigliani’s work is often questioned. You could easily find a Modigliani in an attic with a letter attached from the man himself and people would still raise an eyebrow at it.

“So, um, the main thing according to all the auction houses is that unless it is in the catalogue curated by Ceroni, it ain’t a Modigliani. This is problematic in itself as that was published in 1958 and even some of the pieces on his list are questionable. People have ended up in prison over their dubious dealings with Modigliani’s back catalogue as you can see in the case of Parisot.

“So if a piece comes to auction that isn’t on the list, they’re damned if it is a Modigliani, and damned if it isn’t?” Dian questions you.

“Pretty much. And he worked at a time when a lot of advances and changes happened in artist’s products. In the first half of the twentieth century, both the production of paint and paper changed massively as everything was slowly more industrialised and made more stable. By industrialising these things, it made the equipment cheaper quicker as more could use it rather than being made Etsy-style in tiny batches that were way beyond the means of most artists.

“Normally, with older pieces we can look at how the artists use paints and the type of paints they use but with more modern artists everything becomes a bit murkier as it is harder to date. And I will stop there before I piss off Harper by rabbiting on too much more.”

Even Harper has the decency to smirk at your comment before returning to her notes. Marcus’s gaze has softened again as you finish speaking, “ Thanks, Agent Pierce. Perhaps we could hear from you now Agent Gleason and Youngerson?”

Harper raises her eyebrows in Marcus’ direction before starting, “So, Agent Youngerson and I have been looking at various right wing groups currently active across the world and what their links are to the art world. The main ones who have thrown up scents for us to chase are The Old School Society, Hydra and The Order.”

Dian looks up from her pad of extensive notes, “Yeah, we've been tracing money routes with those three and when looking at the main donors to these groups, they’ve all had dealings with art galleries and auction houses recently. So we’re now looking into each donor carefully and may need to do some in the field meetings with them as prospective buyers - so my darling work wife, Nush, we may need notes unless you fancy being our cover girl?” she comically winks at you. Making a little heart with your index finger and thumb, you send an equally cheesy wink and click of the tongue back at her.

Marcus huffs a chuckle out at the two of you before turning his attention to Kiritopa, “How have you been getting on with your catalogue of fakes relating to this case?”

“Yeah, alright - slow going collecting all the data as it seems some auction houses are reluctant to reveal how many fakes pass through their doors,” Kiri frowns before glugging some more coffee.

“It’s understandable, they don’t want their reputations dashed. Doesn’t make our work any easier though. Agent Morrison - if you can show me what you’ve compiled so far that’d be great,” Marcus gives the agent a small, sincere smile before turning to address the room again, “Right, I have a meeting this afternoon that’ll keep me out of the office for the rest of the day so I’ll leave you all to get on. Have a great day everyone.”

✪✪✪✪✪

You:

Hey sexy lady, I hear you’ve got a tasty little number at S’s - can I take a look?

Hephzi:

Off the books? Course you can. Change into civvies and I’ll get you in this afternoon.

You:

You’re a fucking ⭐️. I’ll make it worth your while

Hephzi:

Do you mean cake and coffee? Because if you do, I’m fucking yours.

You:

Urm obviously! See you around two?

A small knock on your desk makes you put down your phone and you look up into Marcus’ face, “Hey, you got a minute?”

“Yes, Sir,” as you push your chair away from your desk, you throw your mobile in your desk drawer and follow him into his office.

His desk is immaculately tidy and warm to the touch with its honey and caramel tones washing back and forth in undulating waves as if across a beach. There’s not a hint of Marcus in his office yet - no personal treasures - it stands in stark contrast to the warmth of the man you’re getting to know.

“I just wanted to check you were ok. I heard what Harper said,” he reaches out to straighten the ribbing at the bottom of your jumper, his thumb stroking your tummy lightly.

“She’s not wrong,” you grin lopsidedly at him as you step in closer, placing your hands on either side of his face, “Dark soulful eyes, beautifully high cheekbones, delightfully luscious lips that are perfect for kissing - hard not to fancy Modigliani, really.”

“You’re mean,” Marcus squeezes your hip as he shakes his head, “When would you like to speak to the others? I think being up front with them will help us in the long run.”

You sit on the edge of his desk, leaning back slightly, your face illuminated by your smile, “Maybe we can have our first date and then think about the long run?”

When you see the flinch from Marcus, a pang of guilt echoes through your gut as you recall your earlier conversation, “I think you’re right- once we’re truly confident we know where this is headed, we should speak up. I am not going to lose my job or risk my reputation for you… but I also already know that I don’t want to lose you either.”

“Me neither,” his hand reaches out for you, fingers entangling, thumbs stroking - eyes crinkling as they meet yours, “What are you doing for lunch?”

“Well, I was a bit distracted when I got dressed this morning - there was this really hot guy in my flat…”

“Uh huh, tell me about him,” Marcus slowly drawls, looking down at you amusedly.

“Oh you don’t want to know, Sir. Wouldn’t let me get dressed. Just kept groping me.”

“How... inappropriate of him.”

“Yeah - so I was almost late to work because of him wanting his wicked way with me and accidentally ended up putting on two different shoes.” Marcus steps away from you and having looked down, notices the one extremely dark navy and one black ballet pump with a gently shaking chest as he tries to swallow his chuckle.

“Going home to change? Your mind really must have been elsewhere,” you nod at him -slightly embarrassed by your initial genuine mistake that has now become a cover story. His gaze intensifies as he cups your face, his eyes focussing on your lips, “I’m sorry honey, I don’t think I’ll have time to drop you there and back before my meeting - will you be ok?”

“Of course, Marcus - I’ve worked here for years,” you tease him, feeling awkward as fuck when the half truth you are spinning for your boss feels awkward and bitter in your mouth.

But his kiss doesn’t. Marcus quickly closes the gap between the two of you, leaning towards you - his head tilted, lips soft and welcoming with their desire for you utterly apparent. Deepening the kiss, his mouth gently opening, tongue searching as his hands drop from your face to your waist, you find yourself forgetting to worry that anyone could walk in. Forgetting the regret of lying to him. What had you even been talking about? Should you be doing this? Fuck it. You pull him the final distance so that no air could pass between you - just you and Marcus refusing to pause for breath until your lungs run out of air.

Pulling back to gaze at him with lust blown pupils, wanting him so much more, you eventually find the energy to push away from him. Swiping at your lips with your thumb in case anyone spots the remnants of this moment as you walk towards the door on brand new baby deer legs.

“Hey Nush,” you swing back to look at Marcus, still standing, equally dumbstruck as you, before he winks with a cheeky grin, “Nice shoes.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Gripping the cardboard carrier that holds two steaming cups of black coffee in your left hand, you ring the bell to the magnificent Bloomsbury building that has sold multiple pieces of multi-million pound art. The Georgian façade is impressive in its structure and beautifully kept without a sign of peeling paint, decrying its almost 250 year history - a far cry from the shatterproof glass and steel at HQ. Hephzi opens the door to you with a wide grin upon her face, “Bang on time, missus - I swear the only way to get you places quickly, is with the promise of fine art to get you salivating!”

You can’t really respond eloquently to her as you are absorbed into the cool of the elegant building. Whilst kept modern and minimalistic, the space has retained some of its more charming period features - the cornicing and ceiling roses are still firmly in place despite the stark white of the walls. Oh, the pieces that have passed through this space! The very thought makes you tingle all over through excitement.

Currently bedecking the walls are a collection of women artists about to go up for auction the next day. To you, there was no true money in those frames - just a conversation between you, the spectator and the artist about their emotions in picture form. A discussion that spanned centuries as you follow Hephzi’s soft footsteps through the gallery, enjoying every single one from a still life of flowers surrounded by butterflies and other insects by Rachel Ruysch to one of the copies of Blinding by Tracy Emin - the upside down nude female form shaped in neon pink tubes. The artists speak through ages, through the art upon the wall, in the language of your soul.

Marcus would love it here. Oh to bring him and enjoy it together, walking through the space, hand in hand. My head on his shoulder...

“...Hello? Earth to Nushka? Ah, welcome back,” Hephzibah is shaking her head at you, “You’re here on work experience if anyone asks, yes?”

“Yup,” still only half listening to your friend, you begrudgingly continue on to her workspace in the fraud and forgeries department, reluctantly walking away from the art you long to submerge yourself in.

“Right, hand over the coffee and cake- I take payment in advance, Madam,” Hephzi demands, hand outstretched, “So tell me about the new job. What’s your new boss like?”

“Marcus is nice,” you quietly offer into the rim of your coffee.

“First names already?” Hephzibah’s eyes are round with surprise, “And you mention him before the job… Who even are you? What have you done with the real Nush? Oh! Oh Nush, do you like him?”

You stand there blinking hard, feeling an absolute idiot for being so awkward in front of the person you call your best friend. A small, barely perceivable nod through the steam of your coffee has the arms of your best friend wrapped around you, “Nush, tell me more - has anything happened? Do you think he feels the same way?”

“I think so. Made a curry last night for the team at his flat, and ended up staying the night - nothing happ.. Well, we didn’t have sex but I think he likes me,” you nervously chatter at her before drawing a deep breath, “He’s pretty fucking amazing. Seems to be genuinely a nice guy - just straight talking, gentle, kind and holy shit is he good looking! His kisses and touches just turn me into fucking jelly.”

“Better than Jas?”

Your heart thuds in your chest so hard that there is a point where you fully expect it to wrench open your rib cage and run across the floor. You stare wide-eyed, your mouth open

“What?”

Hephzi steps forward, her gaze gentle as she places her hand on your arm, “You weren’t quite as good at hiding it as you thought you were. It was pretty obvious you were together and loved each other very dearly - I just knew that if I ever brought it up that you would run a mile.

“I tried telling you that I knew before. It was after he died and I wanted you to know that I knew it wasn’t just the death of a co-worker. Not that there’s ever any just in those situations for us either but I knew. When I asked about meeting someone the other day, it was more of me just trying to figure out if you were ready to date again.”

With that, the floodgates open and the grief flows you like a river, eroding your defences away. Hephzi holds you as you utterly soak through her expensive blouse, “I wanted to tell you so many times but I was terrified of what you’d think of me.”

“What I’d think of you - are you fucking kidding me, you absolute idiot?” she tucks your tear drenched hair behind your ears, “I’ve held your hair back in pub toilets as you’ve thrown up from too much alcohol and gotten you out of so many other scrapes but that, a relationship with a man from work is what you think I’d judge you for? Nah, that's not how any of this works, mate. Firstly, you can’t help who you fall in love with and secondly, where else are you ever going to meet someone when all you do is work?”

“N...N...Need a tissue. You made me get all snotty,” you tearfully stammer, all blotchy-face and tear streaked.

Hephzi can’t help but laugh at you blaming her for your tears. As she grabs a tissue, she also grabs the cake and the serviettes from the bag, “Come on, I know what’ll cheer you up - cake and a masterpiece.”

Following her into the studio beside her office, there it is. A supposedly lost version of Modigliani’s Nu Couché sur le Côté Gauche - her sheer sensuality rolling off her in waves. The way that she gazes out of the piece beguilingly, inviting you to join her on the bed, the sheets ruffled and rolling beneath her delicious curves.

Hephzi laughs at your reaction to the piece, “She’s hot isn’t she?”

“Yep - I’d definitely do her. I’d like to say that it is her almond eyes enticing me but really, it’s that entirely biteable bum,” you say before biting into the pastel de nata.

“Agreed - although for me, it’s her back and her thighs. They are edible - as you rightly say,” she says into her coffee.

“How’s the provenance?”

Hepzhi pulls a face as she turns back to you, “Traceable, but this one isn’t in Ceroni.”

“Shit.”

“My thoughts entirely. Look, love, I can’t let you touch it but feel free to take photos, measurements etc. As soon as my own tests come back, I promise you’ll know before the guys upstairs do,” Hephzibah asserts before sitting back on the desk in the room, “Just remember, you’re here on work experience.”

You throw a thank you over your shoulder at the rapidly retreating figure of Hepzi as you set to work. Using a Canon with a macro lens, you instantly photograph the major features and then take several overlapping pictures so that you can look close up on your computer at work. Whilst not quite a microscope, it would have to do given the circumstances. You trusted Hephzi’s sample taking but it was good to see it in person, even if Marcus had asked you to hold fire.

Whilst you were taking measurements of various points and aspects of the picture, you realised there were multiple footsteps coming up the corridor. Hephzi, obviously heard them gaining on the studio too and rejoined you, to back the story of work experience rather than letting her old friend backstage for some covert readings. She threw her notebook at you with a pencil to have the pretence of you taking notes as she worked.

“Well, Hephzibah, that is the first time I’ve ever seen you entrust your beloved notebook with anyone other than yourself. You have never even shown me the secrets you record there, and I am the person paying your salary,” a truly plummy voice cut through the room, “Whoever this work experience girl is, we will have to see about hiring her if you trust her this much.”

Hephzibah plasters a smile onto her features, “Sir, she is the best I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. Such a keen eye.”

Refusing to turn around, you carry on making notes in Hephzi’s journal, attempting to concentrate on the words written in front of you, instead of the intrusion.

“So what d’ya think? On first impressions, is it real?”

Shit.

That voice.

Stepping up in response, Hephzibah firmly states, “Sir, I am terribly sorry but I am not currently at liberty to be able to fully disclose that info…”

“Oh no, it is quite alright, Hephzibah - this gentleman is Marcus Pike. He is currently fronting an investigation into white terrorism and art forgeries with 5 Eyes. One of your old lot, you know,” Hephzibah’s boss winks as if he was letting her in on the national secrecy act.

“Marcus Pike?” Hephzi shoots you a surreptitious look before the smile is back, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir. Shame we haven’t crossed paths before now.”

Marcus offers his hand in greeting to Hephzibah, “I hope we can put that right in the future. I was wondering if we could hear from your work experience person. I am always open to fresh eyes.”

Dread courses through your veins as you turn towards Marcus, not wanting to look him in the face, “It would be remiss of me to make a declaration without reading through and tracking back the provenance as well as undertaking the necessary infrared and paint samples.”

“Sensible,” Marcus nods, his face not betraying a single emotion.

Your face creases at his lack of response, something that Hephzi’s boss picks up on, “Are you alright, dear? You don’t look terribly well.”

“Sudden headache, sir. I should probably get going for today anyway,” you virtually throw Hephzi’s notebook at her before grabbing your bag, “Thank you for today, I will be in touch, Hephzibah.”

Running out of the building as fast as your feet and lungs can carry you, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket.

Sir Agent Marcus Pike:

Hey,

We need to talk. My office at 5?

You:

...

Tag list of glory (as ever, please ask to be put on or dropped from the list): @astroboots @silverwolf319 @sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @day-off-inkyoto @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @mrsparknuts @zukoyonce @yespolkadotkitty @lunaserenade @theravenreads @honestly-shite @sharkbait77 @lawfulgranola @agirllovespancakes @theravenreads @lv7867 @ezrasbirdie @songsformonkeys

[airi-p4]

Ice Dreams - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | ...

Lukanette Figure Skating AU? Lukanette Figure Skating AU.

I’ve been planning this for more than one year already ( @mamanabeille​ knows ) but Freya’s recent art for me fueled me to finish the first 2 chapters (out of more than 60...)

Header art is traditional art drawn by me about one year ago - Full pic HERE.

Summary

Despite being very talented and loving to skate, Marinette is determined to quit Figure Skating after the lack of decent results and the great amount of stress and pressure on her shoulders.

On the other hand, Juleka and Luka are average skaters in pairs category who, after years of hard work, have finally started showing some good results. But suddenly, Juleka is forced to retire, leaving Luka at the verge of retirement because of his need for a partner.

Can Juleka convince Luka and Marinette to give figure skating a second chance? Can they form a bond strong enough to reach the top and accomplish their dreams? Could something more than partnership spark between them?

AO3

________________________________

CHAPTER 1: Marinette

Figure skating can appeal to people for many reasons: the competitive part, the artistry, the music arrangements, the performances…

For Marinette figure skating was everything- her whole life.

When she was happy, she would love to skate. When she was sad, skating never failed to cheer her up. She was athletic, flexible and talented, gifted by both technique and artistry, as well as tenacity to work hard and never give up. Skating was an irreplaceable part of her life.

WAS.

In past tense.

Because even when it’s pleasant to watch the beautiful programs the skaters have to offer, there’s something that never changes during competitions: the scores are what really matter. Fail one element and you're screwed. Keep the program perfect but with minimum difficulty, you're off the podium. Do perfect in practice but fail in front of the judges: it's over.

This was Marinette's case.

Recently, consistency always failed her in competitions, and it had been a letdown to see how the past seasons had been going blank for her, without any outstanding accomplishment, despite her being on top almost all of her childhood. Her effort, and full potential didn’t show off on her competition results.

Marinette's parents and her coach, Miss Bustier, associated her disappointing results to her mentor’s and grandmother’s passing. But Marinette was well aware that the main reason behind her failures wasn't only how much she missed her granny; the real cause had a girl’s name: Lila Rossi.

It had already been 2 years since Lila joined her training classes under Miss Bustier's teachings. And everything had gone downhill after that.

It's not that she hadn't already been enduring bullying from Chloe Bourgeois, but Lila's bullying was at a whole different level.

The pressure, the expectations, the stress, the bullying, the injuries and damaged property, the struggle her parents went through to pay for her classes and competitions, how she had to sew her own dresses because she didn’t have the money to buy them, how she almost had no friends left... Everything piled up for years and made her finally crumble. Her skating consistency was affected and led only to constant failure.

In the end, she was exhausted, and no matter how much she loved ice skating, she reached her limit. She surpassed her limit.

Lila Rossi had won.

For two weeks now, since her last failure at a National Competition, Marinette had been skipping her skating classes. Coach Bustier was always exceptionally kind to her, and had been considerate (in her own way) this time as well, suggesting she take a few days to rest and get back again when she felt confident again.

But Marinette didn't intend to return under her coaching. Instead, she had set her mind to resign from her classes and, probably, even quit figure skating too.

She couldn’t take it anymore.

The most talented skater of the decade was seriously considering quitting skating for good. And it made her sad, but she couldn’t see any other way out of the spiral of failures she was caught in. No one was there to get her out of the dark hole she was buried in.

She certainly didn’t expect a second chance in figure skating.

_________________________________

During the days she didn't go to her classes, Marinette always spent her time at the Miraculous Ice Skate Rink, where her 'grandfather', Master Wang Fu worked as a manager, taking care of the installation and the opening and shutting down hours, along with the material to rent and the tickets for open to public times. Being her mother’s uncle, she had been babysat by him and his wife since she was a little kid. It was, in fact, Marianne Lenoir, was the one who taught Marinette the skating basics and the one who made her start practicing and love figure skating since she was 3 years old.

Marinette loved her grandparents a lot, and the passing of Miss Lenoir still pained her everyday. After her tragic loss, they became even closer, especially when Master Fu gave Marinette his late wife's earrings as a memento - he knew she would have given them to her at some point, since she loved the dark-haired girl a lot. And with no children on their own, Marinette was the closest they had to a daughter or granddaughter. Marinette had promised to treasure the earrings. They had a ladybug’s design engraved on them, only visible when light illuminated themfrom a certain angle. They were very mysterious and unique, and Marinette had loved them since her eyes had fallen on them. After becoming their owner, not even once she took them off. She felt the luck on her side as long as she wore them.

Except, that wasn’t the case anymore.

Marinette had her own theory of how Lila might have corrupted them when she touched them once, since all her luck was now gone from her side from that moment onwards.

On the ice, Marinette skated a little. But when she attempted to jump, a memory of her last competition crossed her mind and she fell down. Instead of standing up like always, she stayed seated on the floor, tears falling down her cheeks.

"Marinette! Are you ok? Did you get hurt?" asked Fu, worried. Rushing (as much as his old legs allowed him to) to aid her.

"Master-! I- I-... I can't skate anymore!" She broke down to cry even harder.

"That's not true, Marinette. You're just feeling discouraged now because of your recent results in competition. It's normal to feel like that. It will be ok"

"No Master…  It's not just competitions… It's everything… Lila, Chloe, my coach, my parents, my friends…and I miss Granny Marianne so much... I'll never be able to follow her steps now… I should just be realistic and give up..."

"Don't say that, dear. You have luck on your side. Like a ladybug. Lady Chance. You are talented enough to overcome this. I’m sure Marianne would be proud of you, even if you don't follow her steps. And you know? There's no need to compete if you don't feel like doing it. Many people just skate for fun or minor competitions. I’m sure the future has good things prepared for you. You just need to keep moving and you’ll find the right path to follow. And whatever you choose to do, we'll be proud of you. The doors to this ice rink are open for you to come whenever you want to"

That's right. She could skate without competitions. She could focus on something else and have skating as a hobby. Maybe she could make a living out of a figure skating outfit designer…

It was settled. She was quitting. And she was telling her parents tonight.

"Thank you, Master. I know what I want to do now" she answered, giving him a heartfelt hug. Fu smiled at her and patted her back a little, happy to see her smile was back on her face and how his granddaughter's tears had finally stopped.

___________________________

Marinette was very nervous when she arrived home. She tried to sneak to her room without being noticed, but her mother had been waiting for her, with a deeply worried expression on her face. Marinette gulped. 'She has probably found out I've been skipping my classes' she thought, but her mother's mind was focused on something else- more serious. Something the girl didn’t expect or could have imagined.

“Marinette. Calm down and listen to me. Are you still friends with Juleka?”

Marinette blinked: that was not the question she expected. She sighed before answering, confused about her mother’s unusual distress.

“Yes, mom. It’s been a long while since we’ve last seen or talked to each other, but she is my friend”. She paused for a second. “Why do you ask? You’re scaring me...”

Sabine Cheng took a deep breath before answering “Marinette… Juleka is at the hospital”.

Marinette’s mother’s grip on her shoulders wasn’t strong enough to keep the girl from jumping in shock, neither stopped her from panicking a second later.

“What!? What happened to her!? Is she ok!?”

“Calm down, Marinette. She’s ok. She just fainted. She…” Sabine paused, hesitating, before continuing with the explanation. “She’s been diagnosed with an eating disorder”

Marinette felt a rush of mixed feelings forming inside of her: but between sadness and worrisome, anger was the first emotion to come out of her body.

“No…! No way! I’m sure it’s all Chloé’s fault! She used to make mean comments about her body since we were little. Her ideas must have grown bigger in Juleka’s mind! Just because she was taller and larger than many of us…! And now Juleka is…! Juleka is…!”

The spiral of emotions she was feeling ended up falling in the form of tears, again, in a crying whimper. Sabine, worried for her daughter, cupped her cheek and let her cry until she calmed down a little. It was not easy for her to wait patiently to ask her what she had really wanted to know after she had heard about Juleka’s condition, but she knew the girl needed to let it out, even if it hurt her to see her daughter crying like that. It almost felt like there was something more behind the salty water spilling from her eyes, but she remained silent until her sobbing sounds ended, being engulfed by the silence of the living room. When the wait finally was over, Sabine Cheng spoke again, looking straight to her eyes.

“Marinette, I need to ask you something. And please, be honest with me" Marinette gulped and nervously nodded. "Are you eating properly? You’re not throwing it out, aren’t you? I know you’ve always been thin, but I can’t help it but worry about you… You know how common eating disorders are in figure skating… And with what happened to Juleka and how discouraged you look recently…”

Marinette tensed at her mother’s question, more offended than shocked. “Of course not, maman! I’m properly eating what you put on my plate! I would never waste what it takes you so much work. I’m grateful I always have freshly baked bread on my plate”

Marinette’s mother relaxed at her daughter's answer, hugging her.

“Good. That’s good. I’m so glad. So relieved. Thank you, Marinette”. She spoke again after breaking the hug. “I think you should pay Juleka a visit. Here’s the room number and the hospital address. You should be there for her”

“Thank you for telling me, maman. I’ll visit her tomorrow morning”, the girl said, grabbing the paper with Juleka’s hospital contact from her mother’s hand.

“Good girl. I’m proud of you”

“Thank you, maman…” the twin-tailed girl managed to answer, feeling both happy and nauseous for the trust in her mother’s eyes. The thought of seeing disappointment on her parents' face terrified her.

‘No… I definitely can’t tell my parents yet…’ she thought.

_______________________

When Marinette arrived at Juleka's hospital room, she wasn't alone. The door was partially opened and she saw a blue-haired boy standing beside her. As soon as she knocked on the door, the boy noticed her and approached, with an interrogative and sad expression on his face. He was handsome despite his sad expression, Marinette thought, distracted for a second.

"I- I'm- Juleka...?" She managed to say, and the boy just nodded.

“Juleka, you have a visitor. I’ll let you two talk privately" he said, turning his head to the girl in the bed. "Thank you for coming,” he solemnly told Marinette before leaving the room.

“Thank you” she said when getting inside, without looking at him.

It had been a while since Marinette had talked to Juleka. It had been more difficult to keep in touch after she switched to pairs skating some years ago, even if they still exchanged messages and hung out together sometimes.

“Juleka, how are you? I heard you fainted and…” Her feet moved slowly towards her friend as she greeted her, but she gasped when she saw her figure: she couldn't be healthy looking the way she did.

“Marinette. Thanks for coming” Juleka weakly smiled.

“Juleka, look at you! You look so skinny! You have to eat! You shouldn’t listen to what people or magazines say, it’s dangerous! You need to be healthy.”

“I am healthy" she assured her, but Marinette's worried eyes made her admit her problem. "But… you’re right. There’s no need for me to keep throwing out my food. I’m retiring from figure skating”

"What?" Marinette gasped, and Juleka reaffirmed her words with a nod. “Oh no, Juleka! I know you loved it… I’m so sorry for you…” The baker's daughter sympathized.

“It’s Ok, Marinette. Thank you… I’m actually more worried about my brother. We were a team and now his dream is crushed because of me… He can’t compete without a partner and… I’ve wasted everything…”

“Oh, Juleka…”, she warmly hugged her friend.

Not wanting to talk more about her eating disorder, Juleka asked Marinette a question.

“What about you, Marinette? How are things going? Are you getting closer to your dream? You were always first place no matter what! I bet you’ve been improving and setting even higher scores by now. I wouldn’t be surprised if you could even land a triple axel!”

“I can land it, actually! It’s just… for some reason I can’t seem to land any of my jumps lately during competitions… I keep failing over and over… and then there’s Chloé and Lila… You know… I’m thinking of quitting…” she said in a sigh.

“Oh no, Marinette! You can’t quit! You are the most skilled and talented skater I’ve ever seen. Your scores as a child were in another league! You are bound to make history in figure skating, I know you do. You can’t quit!”

“It’s not a matter of skill anymore, Juleka… It’s a matter of results and wasted effort. I just… I can’t do it anymore. I can’t keep my parents overworking to pay for my skating classes with me failing every single jump in competition. I can’t look at their disappointed looks every time I fail their expectations. And Lila’s bullying only keeps escalating while my coach never believes anything I say… I’m not motivated anymore. I don’t have the strength to keep trying...”

Marinette looked devastated as she spoke. Quitting figure skating couldn't make her happy. Juleka knew she would be feeling even worse than herself. She didn't like to see her friend like that.

“Are you sure, Marinette? Because I think it’s a waste. You could win an Olympic gold medal if you aimed for it. It’s just… so frustrating…”

“Juleka…”

After a long silence, Juleka set her determination and faced a surprised Marinette with a serious look on her eyes.

“No. Marinette, I can’t let you quit like that! Look at me. I’ve been forced to quit because of my condition. I wanted to keep skating! I didn’t want to stop! And yet… you say you want to quit. My brother says he wants to quit. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!? You have no consideration for me or for yourselves!" She yelled and then paused to take a deep breath. "Marinette, look at my face and tell me again you want to quit! Can you do it?”

“I-... I want to… " Marinette paused, unable to lie. "I want to keep skating!" She finally admitted. "But I can’t anymore, Juleka! I’ve tried to endure it, I’ve tried so hard! And yet… Nothing! It’s just useless. What’s the point when I’m starting to feel that skating is not fun anymore?”

“Oh no, Marinette, you can’t say that! You can’t give up your dream so easily. Who was that skater you admired? Your grandmother? Miss Lenoir? You dreamed of being like her someday! Graceful, elegant yet strong; sliding on the ice like if you were an angel coming from heaven, announcing salvation to all the graceful public crying tears of joy at your beautiful movements. I know you can do it, Marinette. You just need something or someone to…" Juleka paused for a moment. "Wait, I… I have an idea. Why don’t you try pairs skating for a while?”

Marinette was taken aback at her friend's suggestion.

“What? What are you talking about? I told you I want to… to quit…”

“No. Listen to me. You just need to try it out. You try, and I won’t oppose you quitting if you decide to do so after you’ve tried it out.”

“What’s the deal…?”, Marinette said, unconvinced.

“I want you to take my place. I want you and my brother to help each other recover your motivation, your goals, your dreams. We just got a decent score for international competitions and I… I messed up. He did his best and improved a lot. He could score high, to the top maybe, with the right partner… and I think you’re a better fit partner than I could ever be” she said in a weak sigh.

“But- I don’t even know your brother. And I’ve never done pair skating before! And most importantly- there’s no way I could fill in your place! Nobody can! I'm sure you’re important for your brother, and he doesn’t even know me! He won’t want me to pair with him anyway” Marinette protested.

“That’s my part. I’ll convince him to give you a chance. So I need you to give pairs skating a chance, too. You both still have a second chance in figure skating. And I bet you can reach the top in a few years'', Juleka smiled. Her eyes showed conviction in her words, but Marinette had doubts.

“Are you sure he-?” she started, but Juleka cut her, knowing how the question ended.

“I’m sure. Just give it a try. For me. For our friendship. I want you to skate on my behalf. Please... I’m begging you, Marinette. Just one week. One more chance. I’m sure you won’t regret it. No, I promise you won’t”

“Ok, Juleka… I’ll do it. Just one try. No more. I’m quitting if I can’t keep it up. Or if your brother doesn’t like me…”

“He’ll like you. He just needs to meet you.” she smiled in reassurance and Marinette hugged her.

Marinette, noticing the time, broke the hug and spoke again. "I have to go now, but I’ll come again next week. Get well soon, please”

“Thank you, Marinette. For coming and for accepting my selfish request. I’ll send you a message later.”

“Of course, you are still my dear friend, Juleka. Get well soon, ok?”

“I’ll try… Thank you for coming”, she answered, waving her goodbye. ‘Now I need to convince Luka…' she thought, eyeing her friend crossing through the door.

[sweetestlamb]

Save Me From The Dark

Summary: If I don’t lie to my heart, who will? 

Author's Note: The feedback to this story has been overwhelming and beautiful honestly, I've never done anything like this for a non canonical couple but so many of you have told me that this pairing makes sense to you too. They are just two lost souls to me and bringing them together is simply destiny. I saw on the timeline that TB was hard to watch tonight for my Seojun lovers,  I thought this might cheer some people up. Sorry for the brevity I’m writing between lesson planning, I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Special huge shout out to @ewolfwitchwisegirl​ who made a header for me, it's so gorgeous and better than anything I could have ever done. This chapter is dedicated to you for inspiring me with this masterpiece!! Everyone who makes a gif set, header or anything because of my story you are loved, thank you. I am honored.

p.s. the burn will still be slow but it’s slowly starting tehe. 

"What? Where is she now?" Su-ah's face scrunches up in disdain as Ju-Kyung explains what she missed while in the nurse's office, the shorter girl looks more enraged than she's ever seen besides when that video of her being bullied was posted. Su-ah and Su-jin came over everyday until she finally caved in and let them in, taking turns crying in their laps. She’d been so ashamed to face them only to end the night teary-eyed with snot dripping from her nose, as they took turns wiping her runny nose. It was disgusting, but in that moment she knew that all her fears had been for naught, they were her friends regardless of what she looked like beneath her foundation. They'd been her saving grace and two huge reasons she could walk back through those doors with her head held high. Suho’s constant love and support only helping to make her feel even more invincible.  She can feel that same protectiveness wafting off the her friend now, Su-ah is fierce when it comes to the people she cares about. She's just honored to be among that short list.

"She's okay. I covered her and brought her to the roof."

"And then you left her? All by herself?! Come on we have to go back she needs us." She staggers as Su-ah grabs her hand forcefully, spinning her in a circle but she digs her heels into the ground interrupting the motion.

Su-ah looks at her baffled, tugging harder. Her eyes squinted into two thin lines. Immediately she puts up her hands, calming the agitated girl.

"She's not alone."

Su-ah tilts her head cutely in confusion, seeming to consider who exactly could be with their friend and conjuring nothing after a short pause complete with a finger on her bottom lip. She puts the girl out of her misery and gives her the answer, "Han Seojun. He's with her."

She'd been just as bewildered when she saw the name flashing on her phone.

Han Seojun.

Sure they were friends, he was also Suho's best friend so they all hung out a few times but he'd never called her prior and she'd almost forgotten they even possessed the other's number. Making her believe that his reason for calling had to be important, since he’d never done it before so she answered without hesitation.

Before she could utter hello, he was barking at her "Where are you? Is Su-jin with you?" She looked over at the other girl, wind whipping her long raven locks wildly around her beautiful face. The frantic raise and fall of her chest was the only thing marring the picturesque sight. Breaking her from her admiration Seojun repeated his inquiry but there was an unusual quality to his voice the second time, he sounded as if he was pleading. She didn't know what was happening but he sounded as if every second not with Sujin was torture. Before he could repeat it thrice, she answered him.

"We're on the rooftop."

His speed reaching them was impressive, before Su-jin could fully interrogate her about who exactly was coming to the rooftop, he was already bursting through the doors and unafraid despite the wrath on Su-jin’s face, she stared in surprise as he called her princess of all things snarkily, she watched them appraisingly waiting for Sujin to sneer at the cutesy moniker but that reprimand never arrived. Seojun seemed comfortable, too comfortable easily pressing into Sujin's space as if he belonged there, as if he wanted to belong there. She felt like she was intruding watching them prod and snap at each other, so she slipped away no longer worried about her friends safety. She seemed to be in good hands.

She snaps back to reality realizing that Su-ah has been bombarding her with questions, "Han Seojun? Why is he with her? Was he the one bullying her, I'll get Tae-Hoon to kick his ass!" She looks at her friend considering her boyfriend, and then Han Seojun, almost in sync they both shake their head.

"No, forget that. He can't fight someone like Han Seojun, can you tell Suho to beat him up? Do you think he'll do it?"

She chuckles while capturing the other girl's hands, "We don't need anyone to beat him up. He didn't do anything, he helped us actually. He got everyone to go back to class and stop looking."

Now Su-ah looks positively beaming, smiling that bright wide smile that is definitely the reason that Tae-Hoon can't stay away from her.

"Why? Why did he do that? Are they close?" The girl ask coyly, always ready to matchmake. 

It's not her place to say, she's just a bystander and honestly she doesn't quite understand what's happening, Seojun is always full of surprises. So she tugs Su-ah away, knowing that if pressed Sujin will retract and push Seojun away on principle, she doesn't know what's happening to the other girl but when it all comes tumbling down it's clear that Seojun won't be far behind.

"I think they're becoming friends. Sujin could use some more friends, don't you think?"

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He doesn't know what he was expecting, it was a crazy idea. Absolutely insane. But regardless of the insanity of his words, he meant each and every one of them. Standing this close to the crying girl he could see the swell of her right cheek, the same cheek that had been bleeding the night they met. Ran into each other, might be more accurate.

It wasn't a fever dream or a hallucination. It was all painfully real, she was being hurt and nobody else seemed to know. She hid it well, even he could admit that her ice princess façade never cracking at school. She'd always looked like a perfect little doll in her designer clothes, he had imagined that she had a loving perfect family. He of all people knew that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, yet he took one look at her expensive appearance and thought he had her all figured out.

He wouldn't make that mistake again.

So he knows that his suggestion is crazy but that doesn't ease the anger when she pulls away, turning her back to him before answering.

"No."

His fists tighten in the balls he has by his side but each quiet exhale that causes her small shoulders to lift up and down, unknowingly calms his rage and he finds himself smothering his own fury to offer another suggestion.

With a deep breath he says, "Ask Ju-Kyung if you can sleep over then. You shouldn't be alone."

She also shouldn't go home. Her words echo hauntingly in his ears, he used a belt. Bile coils tight in his throat, it was her father then he was the one hitting her, destroying his own daughter until she couldn't stand to be touched by others. The urge to fight has never been this visceral.

She sighs as if he's bothering her, he already knows what she's going to say before she says it, so he intercepts her stepping around her so they're face to face.

"I dare you to tell me to mind my business." He growls at her, giving her enough space so he's not looming over her much smaller figure but staring hard enough that she knows that he's serious, he's decided to make this his business she better deal with it.

She stares at him, mouth lax after his deep challenge glaring right back after she regains her composure but her eyes shift away, unable to meet his own now and without a word she huffs before stomping away. He watches her leave, knowing that he's reached the point of no return. He's going to follow this through to the very end.

If she tries to run, well he has long legs.

And a motorcycle.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The pain of her raw water soaked skin grounds her, but the swooshing of the faucet does nothing to drown out her thoughts as she rubs vigorously at her palms, scratching at imaginary dirt that will never be lifted from her hands. Making the water piping hot she hisses at the sting of the water on her bruised hand, she has to punish herself. She almost did something infinitely moronic.

"You almost said yes." She whispers to herself in the grimy school mirror, looking back at her own face in disgust. Feeling the flame of hope desperately grasping for air, yearning to awaken under the boys insistence.

She can't explain her reaction to him, they are nothing; less than nothing she wouldn't even consider him a friend.

Yet, he knows more about her than her best friends. Knows her deepest darkest secret and instead of gossiping or avoiding her, he's chasing her down and demanding to help her.

"He's insane. There's nothing to understand, there's no logic to insanity." She reasons with herself in the mirror, choosing not to focus on the fact that she's having a conversation with herself. His crazy is rubbing off on her, when she put her head on his chest it must have leaked on her.

She can remember the heat that always seemed to radiate from him, maybe that was a result of being loved. He was warm. She wanted to reach out and grab....

What? Grab what? She immediately reels her wayward thoughts back in. 

What am I thinking? 

She needed to stop her train of thought now. That had been a mistake, a lapse in judgement. It wouldn't be happening again. If he was hellbent on following her she couldn't stop him but she knew it wouldn't last, no one was that selfless eventually her pity story wouldn't be enough and he'd realize she wasn't worth the effort.

She tries to convince herself that this is what she wants. Lying to herself has become as natural as lying to others, it’s a means of survival. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Upon entry to the cafeteria every eye shifts to her or so it seems, time too stops as they all cease their conversations to watch her like she's an animal on display. Her skin prickles from the overwhelming attention before the silence bursts like a bubble and the noise washes over her, people begin to point in her direction whispering not so subtlety to the person next to them.

She almost bolts before she feels a hand on her elbow, her instincts almost make her snatch her arm away but the familiarity of the perfume halts her movement.

"Come on. We've been waiting for you."

Su-ah doesn't give her a chance to decline dragging her over to their table, Ju-Kyung's smiling face greeting them. She's shoved down onto the bench, in between the two like they're trying to shield her. The idea makes her feel warm and uncomfortable so she pushes it to the back of her mind.

She silently eats her food, staring intently at her tray before she finally relaxes as she realizes that no one is talking to her, they aren't demanding to know what happened. She's not ready to talk about it, not yet and they are showing her that that's okay. They will be here for her regardless of not knowing the full story. Under the table she discreetly grabs both of their hands, squeezing them hard. Squeaking in embarrassment when both girls twist and smother her in tight hugs, she pretends to loathe it pushing them both away but they cling to her until she gives in. She's so weak today.

"Oh. Seojun-ah over here!" Ju-Kyung blares in her precious ears, waving rapidly over her shoulder and she feels her stomach dip. Not him again he never ate lunch here and when he did it was with his gang, why was Ju-Kyung calling him here?

Pinching at her vulnerable thigh under the table, she hisses at the other girl "Hey! What are you doing? Don't call him over."

Unfortunately it's too late, she can already feel his aura behind them getting closer. There's barely room on the other side of the bench, then Hyun-Kyu yelps before looking up in their direction, then he swallows and nods as if receiving an order, he presses his glass further up his nose before collecting his lunch and leaving. She watches the interaction confused before turning to look at Ju-Kyung who has an exaggerated look of innocence on her face.

"I guess he was finished eating. It works out though, now Seojun can sit there."

He's slipping into the evacuated space before she can yell at Ju-Kyung for meddling. Huffing she burrows into her food refusing to look up. She’s only been ignoring him for a few seconds before he seems to reach his limit. 

"Give me some."

She watches in shock as familiar hands invade her space and grab her tray, pulling it across the table before lifting one of her sausages to his mouth with his fingers, the uncivilized swine. She's reaching out before she can reconsider or think about how they will appear to others she doesn’t share her food damn it, she reaches to cover his hand stopping him from biting and stealing her last sausage.

"What the hell are you doing? Don't touch my food." She scowls at him, grabbing at her food and humming victoriously when she gets it back. Only to stare wide eyed and flabbergasted as he shrugs before devouring the juicy morsel, directly from her fingers, a brief brush of warm wetness on her finger tips. They both freeze, staring at each other. The air between them charged, almost crackling from their locked eyes.

"Seojun! You're the man! You're a natural flirt, eating from her hands!" Appearing from thin air Seojun's gang boisterously chants his name, clapping him on the shoulder and she physically cannot be in this room any longer. She shoves her tray at him, grabbing her backpack before hopping over the bench.

"I'll see you both later." With a tight smile at her friends, she races from the cafeteria unaware of the eyes tracing her every step.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The rest of the day drags by, she spends it lost in a daydream making sure not to look at the boy behind her. She just wants to get home and lock herself away, this time nothing will get her to open the door. With a sigh of relief, she stands as the teacher dismisses them for the day. Packing up slowly to miss the surplus of students at the door, they are all still looking at her warily spreading rumors about her rudeness and supposed narcissism. Creating explanations for her scene in the bathroom, the majority of them painting her as stuck-up. She doesn't mind it's better than them knowing the truth. Let her be a rich spoiled bitch in their minds better that than a victim.

Like clockwork, Su-ah and Ju-Kyung latch onto her from the left and the right. She lets them pull her out the door and towards the entrance, absently listening to their heated debate of where they should eat today. She sighs out loud, amused but hiding it behind a passive face.

"Why are you even arguing? You know we’re such going to get spicy tteokbokki anyway."

They always do, it's like arguing is their warm up before the noodles because no matter how passionate they both get about the different possibilities they've never eaten anything else together.

Walking out the school gate, they all jump back as a motorcycle suddenly skids into their way blocking them completely. Instantly she's annoyed, breaking their linked arms she storms over to the idiot, shoving at his chest before shouting at him.

"Hey! Are you crazy? Were you trying to kill us?" She slaps at his helmet when he tilts his head at her, the loud knock satisfying as she glares at him. 

Then he reaches up like he's staring in a shampoo commercial and tugs the helmet off his head, hair stylishly falling onto his neck. Instead of looking upset at her rough treatment he smirks, leaning over the handle bar right into her face.

"Since when are you scared of my bike? Don't act so fragile princess." She gapes at him affronted by his unapologetic attitude, then further bothered by his second use of that infuriating nickname. She's nobody's fucking princess. As she opens her mouth to tell him this, he turns away from her before talking to Ju-Kyung.

"Take her to your house tonight. Have a sleepover or whatever you all call it. She told me she really wanted to ask you but she was too embarrassed." He points over at her, lying easily through his too white teeth. She wants to punch that smile off his face.

"Hey when did I say anything like that to yo--!!"

But he's on a roll, bulldozing through her interjections with the same ease he used that night on the highway. Pulling something from his pocket and thrusting it at her.

"Give me your number."

What.

"What?"

He looks at her like she's wasting his time, rolling his eyes before repeating slower, the asshole.

"Give me your number."

She scoffs at the brazen order, sneering at him before grabbing her friends. "Let's go."

But never of them are budging, so she pulls harder but still they don't follow and she turns to them both annoyed. "Didn't you hear me let's go."

"Give me the phone."

Her jaw drops as Su-ah reaches out at Seojun, he looks as surprised as she does before he shakes himself from his confusion and hands the girl his phone. Su-ah happily taps away before handing the phone back over.

"There you go." Su-ah smiles easily before tugging them all away now, she wants to fight her hold and run back and take his phone, delete her number and tell him once and for all to leave her alone and stop playing whatever game he’s playing.

"I'm hungry from all that arguing, let's get tteokbokki." Ju-Kyung states happily, leading them towards the shop.

She just goes along quietly, feeling outnumbered and indignant. They were supposed to be her friend. She pouts the entire way. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Seojun watches the three girls walking away, eyes fixated on the figure in the middle until they turn a corner and disappear from his sight. She'd looked like she wanted to kill him, a woman had never looked at him with that particular expression before. She could be quite scary when she wanted to be.

Hooking his helmet onto the arm bar of his bike he finally looks down at his phone, thankfully still in one piece.

When he sees the number he smiles softly before his eyes shift down and laughter bursts out of his chest, he can't stop the bubbling bouts of joy that fall from his lips.

8298263098

Princess

With another chuckle, he pulls on his helmet before revving the bike to life and peeling out of the school feeling lighter than he has in a long time. He doesn’t question his gut, no he’s not someone who overthinks he jumps first and looks later. 

[janicho88]

Fire, Fur & Mistletoe Chapter 3

Pairing- Eventual Dean x Female Reader.

Word Count-2,383

Warning- Mentions of: loss of parents, death, and fires.  Possible swearing. Slight angst. Fluff

Summary- A rewrite of the Nine Lives of Christmas, Hallmark movie. AU, Dean is a firefighter who doesn’t do commitment, the Holiday’s don’t mean much to him.  Coming home after a shift he finds a dog in trouble.  The reader is a veterinary student who works in a coffee shop trying to make it to graduation, until someone causes problems there for her.  She isn’t interested in finding anyone other than her own dog until after she finishes school.  Do their four legged friends have other plans?

A/N- This series is written for @spnchristmasbingo.  The square filled for this chapter is Christmas Tree  The first two chapters will stay closer to the movie than the rest will.  

This chapter also fills my entry for @supernatural-love14​,100 Followers writing challenge.  Prompt - I don’t remember the last time I truly enjoyed Christmas.

This has its own tag list and it is open.  That way I am not tagging anyone who doesn’t want to be tagged in Christmas stories.   This story is unbeta’d.

Header by the amazing @winchest09

Divider from freepngimg.com

Series Masterlist

To say you were surprised to end up at an elementary school would be an understatement.    Dean’s group of fascinating people were the kindergarten classes. He even had plastic fireman hats for them, and of course an extra one for you. 

The kids were so caught up in his speech about fire safety and the important things to remember if there ever is a fire.  He was so good with them and kept them all interested.  He finished his presentation talking about Christmas trees and how they should all make sure their parents keep them watered, so the lights don’t catch them on fire. 

Dean took questions at the end.  Some of the boys wanted to know what it was like to drive the fire truck, someone asked if it was fun to slide down the pole.  They were disappointed when Dean told them there wasn’t one where he worked.  One little girl at the end ran up and gave him a great big hug before you guys left.  He was so adorable with her. 

When you left there Dean asked if you were interested in helping him pick out tiles for the kitchen backsplash.  You didn’t have anything else to do and had been enjoying helping him with the house so you agreed. 

Getting to the store he had three different ones selected and had you help him decide.  After the paint he trusted your opinion on the color selection.   

They had enough in stock of your choice to let you two get started on it when you got home.  The rest would be in soon.  You had a system worked out, you put the mastic on the back and Dean applied the tile to the wall. 

That afternoon Dean headed into work for another 24 hour shift. The second call of the afternoon was for a house fire.  Thankfully for the residents it was mostly contained to one room, just the living room.  But that room had a bit of damage done.

Hoping out of the truck back at the station he asks, “Okay who seriously is going to BBQ a turkey in the fireplace.  And plan on doing it twice because this was just going to be a test run before Christmas?”

“It’s the Holidays,”  Bobby stated.  “People are going to be doing crazy things.  You’ve been here a few years don’t you know this by now.”

“That is true.  Y/N and I were talking about that earlier after we left the school presentation.”

“Wait, WE, left the presentation?  Did you take her with you?”  Benny wanted to know.

“Well,”

“She’s living with him now, didn’t you know that?” Sam asks him.

“What, really?”  Benny couldn’t believe it.

“She moved in a couple days ago.”

“Wow, you two move fast.”

“It’s not like that you idiots.  She got kicked out of her condo and had nowhere else to go, and she already got fired because of me.  I’m just giving her a place to stay till she figures things out.  The house has the room.  Our dogs get along great.”

“Is that why Miracle isn’t here?”  Cas wants to know.

“Yeah, Y/N’s taking care of him and Dean. He’s falling in love.”

“Who Dean or Miracle?” Cas questions Sam.

“Dean, probably both.  She is very easy to like.”

“You’ve met her, besides that day she was in here?”  Benny wanted to know.

“Yeah, Dean called me to help move her.”

“I would have helped the nice pretty girl move, why didn’t you ask me to help?”

“I’m not sure packing would have been the only thing you tried with her, Benny.  I just found her again, I’m not letting you scare her off.”

“He didn’t deny the love.”  Sam says with a smile. 

“I’m not falling in love with anyone, bitch.”  Dean shakes his head at the whole thing as he removes his gear. 

“I’m sorry, my jerk of a brother, is falling in love, but he doesn’t know it yet.”

“That can’t be true Dean, come on man.  I look up to you, playing the field avoiding commitment, a constant string of beautiful women.”

“It’s not true, we aren’t falling in love, not dating.  I still don’t do commitment, and never getting married.”

“So what are you doing with Miracle if you don’t do commitment?”  Bobby asks as he takes off his coat.”

“Temporary long termish house guest.”

“Uh huh.”

“I told him when the house is sold he’s on his own.”

“Let us know how that works out in a couple of months, you idjit.”

“I’m calling your bluff with the girl.  Can you say no to these three things.”

“Really Cas?”

Cas ignores Dean and continues on, “ You live with her?  That’s a yes.  Two, you spend all your free time with her? Yes.”

“Well.”

“Three, you think about her when you aren’t with her? Yes,”

“No, no, you have it all wrong.  Like I said she is only staying till she gets back on her feet.  We are getting to know each other so we hang out, but only  because she’s already there.”

“Getting to know each other like you would if you were dating someone?”

“Shut it Sam.”

“Are you saying he is falling in love?  The legend, is human after all?”  Benny questioned.

“No, I’m not falling in love.  Y/N is a temporary roommate.  That’s it.”

“Man, you are like five minutes away from marrying this girl.”  Sam tells him.

“I hate you all.”  Gear off Dean leaves them behind to take a shower.

“Keep telling yourself that!”  Bobby yells after him.

Wandering around Dean’s house alone while he was at work, you got to thinking.  There was one thing you were really missing this close to Christmas, and it was something you didn’t think you would be able to have this year.  A Christmas tree.

When Dean gets home the next afternoon you bring it up.

“I was wondering if you were going to get a Christmas tree this year?”

“Usually don’t.  I don’t think I’ve had one in a few years.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I haven’t seen a reason too.  I buy a house, fix it up and sell it.  Usually I don’t stay in one long enough.  I don’t do much for the Holidays.  Why do you ask?”

“I was thinking maybe we could get a tree?  I have a little artificial tabletop tree, but wouldn’t it be nice to have a real one?  To have that Christmas smell when you walk in the door?”

“If you like real ones so much why didn’t you already have one in your place?”

“It was against the bylaws. Apparently too much of a fire liability.”

“That didn’t stop you with Dakota.”

“The tree can’t be hidden quickly like she was.  She was worth risking it for.”

“You really want to get a tree?”

“Please, it helps it feel more like Christmas.  If you don’t want one I understand.”

Dean threw his head back and sighed.  “Fine we can go get a tree.  I think there is a tree lot near the station that hasn’t sold out yet.”

“Let’s go to a tree farm, get the whole experience.”

“You’ll be the death of me Sweetheart.”

Dean didn’t have to work at all the following day, so after breakfast the two of you headed out to the Christmas tree farm.  Dressed in warm clothes and boots you were ready to walk all around the 8 acre tree farm if you needed to, just to find the right tree.   There was a wagon ride that took you around to the different types of trees.  Dean and you got off in the back lot figuring you could walk your way toward the entrance. 

“There’s a tree,”  Dean points out as you start walking down the first row.

“Yes, and it’s also like four foot tall.  It’s still growing, let the baby be.”

“Okay, miss Christmas tree expert.  How do you pick the perfect Christmas tree?”

“It’s really pretty scientific you know.”

“Oh really? Please do explain it to me.”

You laughed at his expression. He had turned to you with wide eyes and a cheeky little grin.  Like he was going to absorb whatever you said.  “You dork.”  Heading over to a tree you reach for a branch pulling your hand back toward you slowly.  “First you need to check the freshness.  If the needles stay on when you do that it’s good.”

You drop your hand to the side, “Then you need to inhale deeply and see how it smells.”

Dean did just that, “It smells like a tree.”

“Okay, but does it smell Christmassy.”

“Christmassy?  Pretty sure you just made that word up.”  

“Nope it’s totally in the dictionary.”

“Okay, Webster.  Then what does it mean?”

“To be filled with Christmas spirit.”

Dean just stared at you for a moment.  “You think a tree is going to smell like it’s filled with Christmas spirit?  Just wondering if you were drinking before I got up this morning?”

“Oh come on, it’s that fresh cut pine smell that fills the whole place and makes it feel like Christmas.”

“Whatever you say, I’ll leave the nose work to you.  What is step three?”  He wants to know as you two walk down the lane looking at the trees around you.

“The lean test.  You need to look at a tree straight on, then lean to the right and to the left, then stand back up straight.  You don’t want a tree that is leaning too hard one way and is crooked.”  You stop to inspect a tree, but continue on down your way.

The fourth step is checking the trunk and making sure nothing is wrong with it.  Sometimes the tree might be straight but that isn’t.  Or it could have a double one that won’t fit in a tree stand.”

“Height is important too.  Your ceilings are fairly high so we could get a foot tree no problem.”

Dean is just smiling listening to you go on about trees while you walk through the lot. “Yep that is extremely scientific.”

You two stopped and looked at different ones but kept going.  There was one you stuck a stick up in top of to mark if you didn’t find anything else you liked. Around an hour into your search you stopped in your tracks.  Dean was lost in his thoughts and took him a moment to notice.  

“That’s the one.”

“The one?”

“Yep, that’s the tree we should get.”

“There is only one?  How do you know it’s the one? What if you are wrong, but you’ve already committed to it?  What happens then, fighting and hurting the kids?”

“You lost me, Dean.”

“I um,”  He just realized what all came out of his mouth. “I  mean it’s a great tree.  Let’s get that one.”

“You sure you are alright?”

“Yep great.  Hold that steady, till I need you to push a little, will you?”

While you were helping to hold the tree from moving too much Dean got on the ground and started sawing back and forth till he had it lying on the ground.  You couldn’t help but notice the muscles in his arms as he worked. 

The two of you carried the tree toward the path in the hopes the wagon would be around soon and you wouldn’t have to carry it all the way to the front.  Thankfully only about five minutes later you could hear it coming around.  Up at the front they shook and bagged the tree for you.  

They also had Santa, and some petting animals around.

“Did you want to go tell Santa your Christmas wish?”  You asked Dean.

“You know, I already saw him this year.  He and I are pretty tight.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

After seeing the animals you hopped in his truck and headed to the store.  Neither of you had a stand that would fit the newly bought tree.  With that accomplished you were on your way back to the house.  Getting the tree inside it was set up in the living room not to far from the fire place, but not near enough to catch any sparks that may pop out. 

Dean didn’t have any decorations in the house, but you had some you had been saving.  After the lights were on you went to the kitchen to make some hot chocolate for the two of you and pulled out some of the peanut butter blossom cookies you made the day before.  Coming back Dean still hadn’t turned on the tv so you asked if you could.  Finding the different music channels you finally came across a Christmas one.

The two of you were enjoying the music and each other’s company as you decorated the tree. 

It was late afternoon by the time everything was done and cleaned up.  You offered to start dinner and Dean came in to help you.  The two of you working easily in the newly finished kitchen. 

After dinner you two retired back to the living room turning off the lights in the room and just letting the tree shine.  There was a roaring fire going, The Santa Clause 2 playing on tv.  Chet had to be one of your favorite reindeer in training. It was very relaxing.  

After the movie Dean mutes the television and turns to you.  “Thank you for suggesting the tree.  It’s actually really nice to have it.  I don’t remember the last time I truly enjoyed Christmas.  My parents fought a lot when we were little after the fire, before and after separating.  After we lost them it was just Sam and I.  Both of us just worked double shifts on Christmas at the station so others could have the time off.  Now Sam has Jess so he works part of the day, but doesn’t do a double anymore so he can spend time with her and her family.

He looks around at the decorations on the mantle, “I wouldn’t be opposed if you had some other small decorations you wanted to get out too.”

“Okay, I’ll see what I have that won’t be in the way.”

He turns the volume back up and the two of you settle back to watch another movie.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 4 

Tags- @winchest09  @waywardbeanie @whatareyousearchingfordean  @flamencodiva @deanwanddamons @jensengirl83 @abuavnee @lunarmoon8 @amyzombie1013 @akshi8278 @that-one-gay-girl @mandalou29  @igotmadskills

[autumnslance]

What was it like going from World of Warcraft to FFXIV? As someone who has never played an online RPG before FFXIV I am often :0 ?! when I hear that some people found getting into FFXIV hard because of the mandatory main quest when they just want to go to endgame content as soon as possible. Is going endgame ASAP a regular thing in most online RPGs?

Have a header image of a FFXIV version of my original WoW Main, Discipline Priest Lirriel F’sharri.

Me, a concise answer? Hahaha! Sorry. This got long, so behind a cut it goes and hopefully I answer to Nonny’s satisfaction, taking the questions and breaking them down:

Is going endgame ASAP a regular thing in most online RPGs?

In a lot of games it can be, yes. WoW doesn’t really have a linear overall storyline; each zone has its own story, and each expansion has its own story arc. Nowadays, with how long it’s been running and how big it’s gotten, WoW has revamped their questing so that you decide if you want to go through 1-50 in a specific expac (Burning Crusade, Cataclysm, Wrath of the Lich King, etc), and then catch up to the newest expac for the newest levels, since they also recently did a “level squish” as well as a stats squish, as they had gotten well over 100+ levels in the last couple expansions. Numbers are a problem for long running games (which is why experienced MMO players nodded and some even sighed in relief when the stat squish for Endwalker was announced).

I don’t think FFXIV will be able to do anything similar since their overarching story is so linear; it’s more like playing a single player traditional JRPG with some MMO features attached. I can see them perhaps scaling experience point gain with quests the way they have with the side quests in Shadowbringers, or with Beast Tribe dailies; that would work going forward I think. Unless we get the option to start with the new storyarc starting in 6.1; that could be interesting!

The only other time I had a linear story to go through similarly to FFXIV was early days of Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic, which I played briefly at launch. Even then, each planet had its own storyline, the overall storyline was the individual class questlines. There was, I think, an overarching plot, but it didn’t really come into play until level cap? I don’t even remember and never got to cap because the grind in that game at launch was awful.

And that’s a thing about many MMOs; the leveling experience is learning about the world, introducing characters and setting, but it’s mostly filler until you get to the endgame where the raiding is--and in WoW, the story is only completed via seeing it in raids (thank goodness for Looking for Raid) and was the main focus mechanically as well. WoW didn’t really have an overarching story in Classic, it was a lot of disparate elements setting up and holdovers from the original RTS games and led to random raid content. Burning Crusade gave us an overarching plot with going to Outland to face Illidan--which honestly wasn’t all that well done storywise. BC is remembered fondly for the quality of life changes and allowing smaller groups to raid, rather than requiring wrangling 40 people. And the raids were challenging and fun--or frustrating, but mileage varies there. But the impetus for “the Dark Portal opened and Illidan’s in Outland being bad” was...pretty much it? Later expacs like Wrath had much better story setup and throughlines as they went, and my one friend described Shadowlands as having something like an MSQ. There are, however, a lot of retcons and putting necessary plot information in supplemental material, which was always frustrating. I’ve likened it before to “imagine going from defeating Tsukuyomi at the end of 4.3 and all the separations and set up there...and then the next patch picking up with getting warped to the First because everything that happened in 4.4 and 4.5 occurs in a novel.” That’s too often been WoW’s method of connecting expansion stories while players languish for a year or more in the last raid content.

I wish I was kidding. FFXIV having a set, quick release schedule, that they keep to so consistently with such good quality--and cosmetic and RP stuff added too!--is astounding to me. I worry for the devs’ health at times--then I hear things like Yoshida turning down requests for crunchy overtime to keep said devs from burning out, hence why the next Ultimate is pushed to 6.1. I appreciate that greatly. Getting anything not pertaining to endgame raid and PvP content in WoW was often impossible, coming with complaints from the raiding community that frivolous additions for sheer fun cost them whole tiers, and seriously 18 months between patches was not unheard of.

What was it like going from World of Warcraft to FFXIV?

I started FFXIV at the beginning of Heavensward...but I was still playing WoW. FFXIV was my side game, as I was still invested in roleplay and raiding with my WoW friends. So I mostly enjoyed playing through the story at a leisurely pace, but I didn’t finish ARR for like 2 years. When Stormblood came out I was hitting burnout in WoW despite mostly enjoying Legion, and the quality of life changes for StB really invigorated my interest and ability to play. The longer GCD for FFXIV was actually one of the biggest challenges for me, especially since I had primarily tanked and healed in WoW. I am not an aggressive or competitive player, nor very manually coordinated, so DPS has always been a challenge for me. I find DPS easier in FFXIV thanks to the longer GCD--I’m still not great, but I don’t feel overwhelmed by trying to hit my rotation buttons instantly. It’s taken me a while to get used to tanking, and I still don’t do it in 8man content, except once or twice with my friends. Mostly cuz I’m just enjoying my DPS jobs, really, so haven’t invested in learning.

...And some of my old fear of random roulettes as a lone tank/healer; WoW’s LFG was a toxic pit for various reasons FFXIV has mostly avoided and even my worst day in FFXIV’s roulette is better than a good day in WoW’s, which gave me anxiety and I stopped doing without friends. FFXIV has no Public Test Realm that people expect you to get on pre-patch to not only spoil story moments, but also learn all the fight mechanics ahead of time and if you don’t know them Hour 1 Day 1 of a new patch release you’re deserving of abuse.

I won’t say never, but I just haven’t found myself interested in going back to WoW or feeling invested in that story, though I do sometimes miss my RP characters (and may write more stories for them sometime). I do keep track of certain beloved NPCs and events--a friend streamed a beautiful moment in Ardenweald for me because I did play through what happened to that character in Legion, sobbing the whole time. I’m tracking what’s happening to Anduin Wrynn closely; we’ve literally watched that character grow up in real time over the years from boy prince to king of Stormwind and I’m still a bit heartbroken about his father. But I play for story and characters, and Blizzard’s way of telling those stories and handling those characters lost me, and with how the Acti-Blizz execs and higher level devs act lately (Hazzikostas keeps striking me as out of touch), they don’t give me much incentive to go back. I may not even pick up Diablo 4 at this rate.

So FFXIV’s story hits the right narrative and character focus for me, especially when I buckled in and replayed...and then replayed again...and now have NG+...Anyway, I like how they build the lore and characters and while it’s far from perfect and they have their own flaws, coming from WoW, it’s a lovely change of pace. Not to mention just how Yoshida and his team interact and communicate with the player base, and see the players’ trust as paramount post-1.x.

...I hear that some people found getting into FFXIV hard because of the mandatory main quest when they just want to go to endgame content as soon as possible.

Some people play only to raid; they like mechanics, and challenges, and feeling powerful at max level with the best gear. They don’t care about the overall story--in some cases because they don’t realize it’s so in depth and linear and sensible after/compared to the constant retcons and revamps in games like WoW!--and are just here to play with friends. Cool for them, if that’s what makes them happy! If that’s how they relax and have fun, power to ‘em so long as they aren’t being nasty to others less advanced/able/willing to put in the time and effort for gameplay. But for me, story and characters are far more important, and I raided quite a lot in WoW at various levels of difficulty and raid size. I am old and tired and want to relax and have fun with friends and write stories that get away with me when my characters get a mind of their own. So I rarely do more than Normals, avoiding Savage and Extreme cuz that grind doesn’t interest me. I’ll do stuff I can do on my own to get my progress fix for my brain (like leveling jobs).

The trouble we’re running into now is FFXIV’s linear story is well over 100 hours long. Even with the ARR revamp cutting a lot of chafe, there’s a LOT to get through to reach HW, and then a lot to get to StB, and then to ShB. And there will be a bunch to get through to EW. That’s JUST MSQ, not counting all the side content a new player may also want to catch up on, like the Alliance and Normal raids, PvP, Relics, Hildibrand, side quest stories like Mail Moogle, Beast Tribes, Crafting...the list goes on and on!

Content in a successful MMO must be varied for multiple styles and preferences for the long term health of the game. Roleplayers and story-focused folks tend to be the ones who stick between patches, farming content at a slower pace to get rewards they want for RP or to see story info, as opposed to raid-focused folks who push new content at release for the challenge and glory. Some of those folks also RP or like story though, so go back to farm between blowing up new content. There’s room for all kinds, and there has to be, and while I am sometimes annoyed by people who skip story (or outright dislike it!) while demanding to know how X works or why a character did A thing, they play their way and pay their sub to keep things running same as me and my obsessive need to know the lore and see it for myself. I can certainly understand those players who story skip that much content to get to where their friends are, if that’s the primary reason they play is to raid with pals, and with New Game+ it’s easier than ever for someone to go back and catch up the story later anyway.

[beckzorz]

down (one-shot)

Pairing, Words: Bucky Barnes/Reader, 1.1k Prompt/Warnings: “I might not go down in history, but I will go down on you.” Or, you tend to Bucky after a gruesome mission. ANGST, gore, swearing, references to sex. A/N: Written from a prompt for @the-ss-horniest-book-club​’s quarantined drunk drabbles. Thanks so much to @jewels2876​ for helping <3 I hope you enjoy! (Also, just pretend the header image isn’t OBVIOUSLY A STOCK IMAGE, it’s the best I could do lol)

Bucky grits his teeth as the plastic stitch slides through the needle-hole on his abdomen. The needle pierces his skin again, and he looks so far up his eyeballs hurt. It doesn’t make a lick of difference for the real pain, but at least he can count stars.

“How’s the view?” you murmur.

Another prick of the needle, another slick slow slide of plastic through his skin.

“Not much light pollution out here.” He lets out a slow breath, air whistling through his clenched teeth.

“Well, compared to New York.”

Your voice is gentle, teasing; Bucky closes his eyes and latches onto it, onto you. Your careful breathing, the way your breath fans his skin, how your heartbeat is solid and constant and just a hint quicker than normal. The pain of the needle and thread doesn’t go away—being super means super sensitive too, sometimes—but he can bear it.

He peeks down at the last bit of intestine still visible, then closes his eyes.

With you, he can bear anything.

—

The second Bucky’s head hits the pillow, he’s asleep.

It’s like this every time he suffers a big hit. His body wants to heal, not deal with the boring normal functioning stuff like thinking straight or walking. It was all you could do to keep him coherent, let alone awake, for the two-hour hike back to the safehouse.

Now, at least, his body can do its thing.

You sigh and wipe your hands together. Procedure dictates writing the report immediately, and you know just how little Fury cares about the blood caked under your fingernails.

Looking away from Bucky, lying with his lips parted and the skin across his stomach raw and his bruised face turned towards you, is harder than dirtying a keyboard.

But you do it. You do both.

You look away, and you dirty a keyboard with Bucky’s blood.

—

Steam curls in the air and water streams down your back, down your chest, off your fingertips. The shower is the best place to be after writing a report like that, one where you have to write just how many stitches and just how many staples and just how many feet of intestine.

Grenades don’t usually make such a mess. Usually, Bucky can catch them, toss them aside, use the metal of his prosthetic to shield himself.

Today wasn’t about shielding himself. Like the apocryphal tale of little, lawbreaking Steve Rogers flinging himself to protect his training squad all those years ago, today was a crowd of civilians, a horrible possibility, a split-second choice.

Bucky made the right choice. He always does.

Right for his sense of self, right for saving the civilians, right for every reason.

You shut your eyes against the humid heat of the shower and let yourself shudder.

It’s right for everything, for everyone, except you.

The shudders don’t stop. You collapse against the tile wall and scramble for a hold, silent sobs wracking your body as you slide down. Your throat burns.

Bucky—he—he’d been torn open, torn apart, all splayed out like a child’s splattered painting, blood painting the dirt and your hands and your heart. His intestines had slithered in your hands, pulsing with horrible irony as the man who’d thrown it lay dead at your hands barely a stone’s throw away.

And you couldn’t do a damn thing but fix it, fix him, staple him together and stitch him back up, because that’s your job, and you can’t have feelings—you shouldn’t have feelings! You’re not here to have feelings. You shouldn’t have anything but working fingers and supplies and the ability to use them.

You curl against the tub wall and let hot salty tears mix with hot clear water, soapy water swirling around your ankles.

Shouldn’t.

But you do. God, you do. Whether you want it or not, and you don’t know if you wish all those nebulous thoughts and wants would vanish or never leave. Would you turn into a robot, if you could?

Another pointless question. You’re human, and that’s all you’ll ever be.

You suck in a shaky breath, then another. Count to four breathing in, count to eight blowing out. You focus on your fingers and toes, draw your focus in and up until the shudders and tears stop. You settle back into yourself, one breath at a time.

There’s only one good thing about Bucky’s healing sleeps.

Without him, you can live your trauma in peace.

—

Rapid beeps, low and regular and just over his head, pull Bucky out of the dark.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you say. The bed dips under your weight.

He hums in the back of his throat, his tension melting away. You always know the moment he’s awake. Always have.

“Time?” he rasps.

“Six hours, seven minutes.”

Bucky sighs. He pokes at the edges of the places that hurt. Progress, but still a ways to go. His stomach is still stitching himself together; his insides are still shifting back into place. 

“Report?” he asks.

“Sent off, but you can add to it when you’re ready. The usual.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” you say drily.

Bucky cracks an eye open and admires your profile. “That, and to keep me in one piece.”

“Or to put you back into one piece,” you mutter.

You turn away and take a swig from a bottle he can’t see—he can’t smell any alcohol, but there’s something off about you. Something ruffled. Something disturbed.

“That too,” he says slowly.

He pushes himself up, grunting, and you suck in a quick breath. You’re at his side in a moment, a hand on his back and another holding his hand. It’s your job, yes, but he takes comfort in your hands on him. In you near him at all.

“Keeping my ragged ass going,” he adds.

You laugh, but it doesn’t last long. “Can’t have my favorite history project dying on me, can I?”

Bucky squeezes your hand. “You should go down in history too. Keeping me alive has gotta be at least as hard as what I do.”

“Probably.”

He doesn’t trust your smile. Doesn’t trust the calm on your face, or the solid beat of your heart. It isn’t soothing anymore.

It’s ominous.

You catch his eye—you’re as sharp as he is, and as soon as your smile looks more real he knows it’s ten times as fake. You lean in closer and trail your finger across his lips.

“I might not go down in history,” you tell him, “but I’ll go down on you.”

Despite himself, he’s interested. Diversionary tactic or not, you do know how to use those lovely lips of yours. Still…

“I don’t think my tummy could take it,” Bucky says mournfully. “Think you can stand to wait?”

“You’re a baby, Barnes.” You kiss his cheek. “Anything for my favorite patient. Now rest up.”

Five steps, and you’re gone, and Bucky’s alone with his thoughts, the weight of your absence, and nothing to do except wonder.