#I don't want to be put on for six days a week without being asked what the fuck!!!!

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Two.

Chapter One. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Pairing - Dad's Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky try to navigate what it means to be soulmates - and how difficult it is to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings - smut. cursing.

Word Count - 4k

Author's Note - part two!! thank you SO much for all of the love on part one - it has made me immensely happy. you're all the sweetest and i'm so grateful. i'm going on vacation in a few days, so i'm taking a hiatus for a few weeks as i won't have cell service. so, consider this my parting gift to you <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3 please, send me your thoughts, predictions, desires!! I will get excited with you!!

Masterlist. Inbox.

Sunlight streams through the billowing white curtains, rousing you slowly. The gentle breeze cools the room, salt sticking to the air. Warmth is seeping into the glass of the windows, encouraging you to kick your sheets to the foot of your bed, limbs stretching and rolling.

You wake, and for a moment, you feel perfectly at peace. You feel light, tranquil, relaxed. You flex your neck from side to side, yawning as you do it. You notice that the sun is already up, beaming into your bedroom. It's going to be a very warm day, you think. I better pack sunblock.

You glance to where your bag is thrown haphazardly on the floor, contents spilling everywhere. It's unlike you, to not put something away properly. You take pride in being a tidy person. You must have been exhausted when you got home last night.

That's when it hits you.

Bucky.

The events of yesterday coming crashing down around you like a tidal wave. Hearts racing, hands interlacing, lips melding. Bodies tangling, breaths matching, knees buckling. Two souls, tied together forever.

Your Tethering.

To Bucky. Your Dad's best friend Bucky.

His absence is suddenly all you can think about. He's not here, and you feel like half of your heart is missing. You ache. There's a discomfort that you know can only be cured by the presence of your soulmate.

You're deep in thought when your phone rings, startling you. It's Bucky.

"Mornin' sugar," he drawls. The low tone of his voice is like molten honey, gorgeous and golden.

"Good morning, Buck."

You hear him exhale at the sound of your voice.

"I know we said we'd meet at ten, but can we make it earlier?" he asks. Then, quieter, "Feel like I can't breathe without you."

He murmurs the last part, as if it's a secret. Something sacred.

"Of course, Buck. I can be ready by nine?"

"Thanks, sweet girl. I'll pick you up?"

"Perfect. See you then."

"See you then."

It's almost painful to hang up the phone. It's like there's a gravitational force in The Universe, willing you against it. You ignore it defiantly and press the red button, swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

There's something in your gut telling you that this might just be the first day of the rest of your life. You certainly can't go back to the way things were. You're not sure if you want to.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Bucky arrives at 8:45.

You're in the bathroom with the door closed, so you don't hear him pull up. You feel it. Like a magnetism, alerting you to his whereabouts. You breathe a little easier immediately, knowing he's outside.

You grab your bag and the picnic and pull on your shoes, eager to see him. You feel like a teenager again, giddy with anticipation. Apart from, this isn't your average first date. No, this is your last first date ever. This is a first date with the man you're bound to spend the rest of your life with. No pressure, you tell yourself. One step at a time.

Your heart kicks up in double time, thundering against your ribcage. You inhale deeply, cracking your knuckles. You can do this. It's just Bucky.

You bound down your stairs, practically running to his truck. Bucky's leaning against the passenger door, the wind ruffling his hair, sunlight reflecting off his steely blue eyes. He's wearing shorts and a white button up, which is blowing gently in the breeze. His sleeves are pushed up his forearms, exposing his gorgeous tanned skin. He has several shirt buttons undone, accentuating his broad chest, sunglasses tucked into the breast pocket. He looks so handsome. So classically elegant. Like he belongs in an old movie - a perfect leading man.

He eyes you carefully, gauging your reaction. You can tell he doesn't want to overstep, worried about pushing you too far too fast. You walk over and run your fingers across his exposed chest gently, tracing a path up his neck until you're caressing his cheek. His stubble tickles your fingertips, causing a smile to curl at the corners of your mouth. You finally meet his gaze, and all your stress is forgotten. You feel peaceful again.

"Hi," you whisper.

"Hi, pretty girl," he murmurs back, hands finding your waist. "You alright?"

"I'm okay. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," he grins. "So, how do you feel about a day of sailing? You, me, and the ocean, baby."

"I think that sounds perfect."

He opens the car door for you, helping you up and into the passenger seat. He climbs in, clicking on his seat belt and starting the engine. Before he pulls away, he turns and looks at you, holding your stare for a moment. Bucky reaches for you, lacing your fingers together, resting your intertwined hands on your thigh. He begins to drive away, taking you towards the ocean. Towards your future.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You know nothing about sailing.

Luckily, you don't need to. Bucky's quite content to keep you sitting pretty on the top deck while he does all of the work, pulling and tying and knotting. The crisp white sails billow in the wind, the ocean waves providing a steady, constant soundtrack. Birds fly overhead, sunshine beaming down, the wood underneath you warm and smooth. It's paradise.

You're soaking up the sun rays when you hear a click. You sit up to see Bucky holding his film camera, pointed right at you.

"Creep," you tease.

"Just want to have something to look back on. Our first day as soulmates. It's an occasion, you know," he grins.

He moves across the boat to sit next to you, thigh pressed up against yours. He's so close you can taste the spearmint on his breath. You tangle a hand in his hair, caressing the back of his head.

"I brought you a few new things to try," you tell him. "Some recipes I'm testing. I want your honest opinion. No sugar coating. Promise?"

"I promise," he winks, holding up a scouts honour. "I wouldn't lie to you, honey."

You reach over and grab your picnic basket, unwrapping various beeswax packages and laying them out in front of you.

"Okay - we have white chocolate and pistachio muffins, raspberry and lemon macarons, earl grey and lavender cookies and carrot and cinnamon cake."

You glance over at Bucky, expecting him to be deciding what to try first. Instead, you find him watching you carefully, gentle smile etched across his face.

"What?" you laugh.

"Nothing," he beams. "I just... I love it when you start talking about food. You're passionate. You light up."

"Don't make it weird," you joke, slightly taken aback by his honesty. He did promise not to sugar coat.

He reaches for a macaron, eager to try one after you mentioned them yesterday. He pops one in his mouth, and lets out a groan that can only be described as pornographic.

"Fuck," he moans. "This might be the best thing I've ever eaten."

"You promised you wouldn't lie," you laugh.

"I'm not," he chuckles, placing his hand over his heart. "I swear to you. These things should be used as medicine. They'd cure anything."

"Shut up," you tease bashfully, bumping your shoulder into his.

He tries the other sweets one by one, complimenting you immensely. He's so specific in the way he commends your baking. He comments on certain flavours, and textures, and the way everything melts on his tongue. He really takes the time to think about what he says. It's so intimate.

"You're gonna do this for a living, right?" he asks, turning to face you.

"I hope so," you confess. "It's all I want to do. Going to culinary school was a huge risk, but I did it. It was difficult, but they were also the best four years of my life. I just learned so much. I want to put it all into practice."

"I think you should. It'd be such a waste if you didn't. You're so talented, sugar."

"Thanks, Buck," you grin. "I just don't know where to start."

He thinks for a moment.

"If you could do anything, anything in the world - what would you do?"

He's looking at you so intensely, you almost want to shy away. His steel blue eyes are boring into you, reading your mind, figuring out your soul.

"I'd... I'd open a bakery of my own. I want a lot that overlooks the ocean. With big windows."

Bucky smiles gently, adoration written across his face.

"I'd be your most loyal customer," he vows. "Oh, I have a better idea - I'll be your quality control. I'll taste test everything before you sell it. You know, just in case."

"Just in case," you laugh. "Right."

"It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it," he winks.

The sound of your laughter is like dopamine to Bucky. It fires off neurons in his brain, receptors buzzing and alight. He almost feels drunk off the sound, floating above ground.

You relax into him, laying down and resting your head in his lap. He's warm, and soft, and so comfortable. You could lie here forever.

He runs his fingers through your hair gently, playing with the strands. The repetitive rocking of the boat lulls you into an easy sleep, the sunlight wrapping around you, taking the place of a blanket. Bucky watches you drift off, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

A particularly strong gust of wind wakes you, rousing you from sleep. Your fingers are interlinked with Bucky's, head still resting on his strong thighs.

"How long was I out?" you ask, looking up at him.

"Like, twenty minutes? You looked peaceful, thought I'd let you rest."

"Sorry, Buck," you chuckle.

"Hey, don't apologise. I'll take it as a compliment. You know, they say you only sleep around the people you feel safe with."

"They say a lot of fuckin' things," you laugh, repeating his words from yesterday.

"I do, though," you say after a moment. "Feel safe with you. It's not just the soulmate thing. I always have."

Bucky leans down to press his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. He pulls away and kisses the spot where you were just connected.

"We should talk about us," you murmur, sitting up to face him.

"Uh oh. Are you breaking up with me?" Bucky jokes, nudging your knee with his.

"Yeah, right," you scoff. "As if you'd be so lucky. You're stuck with me, I'm afraid."

"I'll survive," he winks. "But we should. Talk about us."

You look at each other for a moment, carefully. You notice that the ocean is reflecting in Bucky's eyes, waves gleaming and blue.

"I don't know where to start," you whisper.

"Maybe start at the beginning," he suggests, reaching out to rest his palm on your thigh, fingertips rubbing comforting circles into your skin.

"I... I think - I think we should do exactly that. Start at the beginning."

He nods at you reassuringly, urging you to continue.

"I want to start slow. Really slow. I know we already know each other, but this... this is different. We don't know each other like this."

"Like soulmates," he agrees. "It's a whole other level. A league of its own."

"Exactly. I know we're Tethered, but, I think we should treat this like a normal relationship. We should date, and just... take this step by step."

"One step at a time," he confirms. "Prepare yourself, honey. I'm about to date the hell outta you."

"Someone save me," you laugh, throwing your head back. "All those poor girls that have come before me - they had to put up with this?"

He laughs with you, the sound rumbling in his chest.

"Trust me, sugar, you're different."

Bucky leans forward and slots his lips to yours, hands going to your waist to pull you closer.

Kissing your soulmate is unlike any other feeling. It's complete serenity. Two bodies, designed by The Universe to fit together perfectly.

Your fingers thread through Bucky's hair as you move to sit in his lap, straddling him. You grind your hips forward, illiciting a groan from the both of you.

Bucky slips his tongue into your mouth, tasting the sugar there. He can't get enough. You're so sweet and soft underneath his hands, underneath his tongue. He wants more.

He tips you backwards, so you're lying flat on the deck. Bucky moves to kneel in between your legs, prying them open gently. He kisses his way from your ankle to your knee, occasionally nipping at your flesh. He likes the idea of there being a mark on you that he left. He feels more protective of you than he ever has of anyone. The feeling vibrates through his bones, fires up his nerve endings. He needs to feel every inch of your skin as soon as possible, or he's convinced he'll burst into flames.

He smooths his hands up your thighs, fingers catching in the waistband of your shorts. He shimmies them down your legs, and inhales sharply at the sight before him. You're laid out on the deck of his boat like a goddess, the white shirt adorning your body matching the white lace underwear underneath. The sun rays are beating down, illuminating you, making you glow from the inside out. Bucky can't breathe, looking at you. He feels like all of the oxygen has been stolen from his lungs, replaced with pure desire.

You're breathless, panting, chest heaving. You're shaking with anticipation, willing him to do something. Anything.

"Bucky," you whine. "Please."

He's never heard a prettier sound. It's like angel song, the way you say his name.

"Patience, sweets. I thought we were taking it slow."

"Asshole," you laugh, poking him in the chest with your toe. "You're a hypocrite."

"Am I?" he smirks, running his fingertips across the inside of your thighs.

"Yes. You can't kiss me like that and then tell me to have patience."

"My apologies, ma'am."

He leans over and kisses you again, biting your bottom lip as he pulls away. Bucky slips your underwear down your legs and tucks them into the pocket of his shorts, ignoring your scoff as you watch him do it.

"Come here, pretty baby," he murmurs, tugging at your hips to pull you closer to him.

He nudges your core with his nose, inhaling deeply. It's filthy, the action, but it makes you ache with want. He licks into the crease of your thigh next, tasting the salt on your skin. Your hand flies to his hair, tugging the chocolate strands. You whine again, and Bucky commits the sound to memory.

He surprises you by sucking your clit gently, causing your hips to buck up towards his mouth. He splays one hand across your stomach, holding you down. He uses his other hand to insert a finger into you, groaning at your warmth. He crooks it up, and you keen.

"I know, baby, I know," he coos, adding a second finger.

You're not sure if it's because of the glaring sunlight or because of Bucky, but there's a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin, dripping down your temple. You're burning from the inside out, white hot heat running through your veins.

He thrusts both fingers in and out of you steadily, curling them on the up stroke. You throw your head back, hips wriggling and writhing.

"Where you going, pretty girl?" he drawls. "Come here - that's it."

He pulls you back to him, fingers never stopping. He looks up at you, and notices that you've thrown a hand over your face, shielding yourself.

"Don't go shy on me now," he practically purrs, smiling when you move your arm away. "Most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Fuck," you moan, suddenly glad you're in the middle of the ocean. The sounds you're letting out are filthy.

"I know, pretty baby. I know."

His fingers push you closer and closer to the edge, speeding up slightly. You're whining, keening, hips bucking up into him. You can't stay still. You feel like you're on fire, red hot electricity running through you. It's never been like this with anyone before. It never will be again.

"You're close, honey, I can feel it. You're almost there," he drawls. "Atta girl. Come on, baby. You got it. Good girl."

His low, honeyed words throw you into your climax, back arching off the sun warmed wood. Bucky talks you through it, encouraging and praising you in hushed murmurs. You see stars, bright white patterns flashing behind your eyelids. The world goes quiet for a moment, and all you feel is peace.

Bucky brings you back to reality by rubbing soothing circles into the bare skin of your thigh, still muttering softly. He lets you catch your breath before leaning over and kissing you gently.

"You okay, sugar?"

You smile at him in a daze, still floating on air.

"I'm good, Buck. Very good, actually."

He laughs at your response, moving your hair away from your face. You sit up to look at him, admiring him carefully.

"You're so pretty," you whisper. "I mean, I've always known it. But now, it's so... blinding. You're the most beautiful person in the world."

He's not sure how to process your words. He's never felt so loved, so safe, so appreciated before. It's overwhelming. He doesn't know what to say - so instead, he kisses you hard.

"You're the sweetest girl in the world, you know that right?" he whispers against your lips.

He moves to sit behind you, so your back is resting against his chest. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He smells like warmth, and salt, and home.

"I don't think we should tell my parents," you say lowly, afraid to ruin the moment. "Not yet, anyway."

"I agree," he reassures. "I think we should figure this out first. Figure us out."

You lean up and peck his lips gently, pulling away to trace your fingertips over the contours of his face.

"It's gonna take a while to figure this out, isn't it?"

"That's the thing, sweet girl. We have all the time in the world."

You relax back into his arms, letting his steady heartbeat lull you into complete tranquility.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You spend all day on the boat with Bucky, soaking up the sun. Your shirts are billowing in the wind, hair blowing in every direction. The ocean rocks you both in routine motion, gentle and calming.

He teaches you the basics of sailing, sitting knee to knee with you while you repeatedly tie knots into pieces of rope. He stands behind you comfortingly as you pull and tug at the rigging, supporting you only when you ask for help.

The two of you sit tangled together on the deck, enjoying your picnic. You take a moment to rub sunblock into Bucky's shoulders, ignoring the heat that rises in your chest when he groans in delight. He's irresistible. This is more than just lust. This is a magnetism, an almost animalistic connection. It's quite literally written in the stars.

The both of you are clearly reluctant to go home. You sit in Bucky's truck outside your apartment for hours, talking about nothing and everything. You don't invite him upstairs. You know that if you do, you'll jump his bones instantly. You've both agreed to take this slow. You have to start being strict with yourselves, or you'll just keep ending up in bed.

Eventually, your stomach rumbles, making Bucky chuckle.

"You should go. Eat something."

"I know. I just... I like being with you."

He leans over the centre console to press a kiss to your lips, revelling in the way you taste like the ocean breeze.

"There's no one else in the world I'd rather be with," he murmurs against your mouth.

You pull away and take a deep breath, preparing to leave Bucky for tonight.

"Thank you, for today. It's been perfect."

"Perfect day for a perfect girl," he winks, making you both laugh.

"One step at a time."

"All the time in the world," he echoes.

"Goodnight, Buck," you whisper, moving in closer to press your forehead to his.

"Goodnight, honey girl," he whispers back, pecking your lips quickly.

He jumps out of the drivers side to help you down from the truck, holding your hand carefully. You smile at the déjà vu. He does too.

You look back at him once more before closing your front door. He's already looking at you, his eyes never once leaving your frame, smile never leaving his face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're curled up on the couch when your phone rings, startling you from your peace. You look at the caller ID in confusion.

"Stella? Hey - you okay?"

"Hey, you. Long time no see, huh?"

"It's been a while," you laugh. "I didn't expect a call from you."

"I'm sorry we haven't talked in so long. I've been super busy - I'm opening my own café! It has a bookshop inside it too - oh it's gorgeous, you wouldn't even believe it."

"That sounds amazing, Stella. I'm so happy for you, wow."

"I'm actually calling because I have something to ask you."

"Ask away, Stell."

"I have a sort of... proposition for you. An offer, if you will."

"You're really building the anticipation here," you chuckle.

"Sorry, sorry! So, I'm gonna need a Head Baker. I can't do it, because I'll be manager, and I'm the owner which is a tough job in itself. Opening a café is fucking difficult, you know!" she laughs, before continuing. "You'd have complete creative control - you'd design your own bakes, everything would be completely down to you. There's quite literally only one person in this world that I'd want to do this job, and it's you."

You almost can't believe what she's telling you. It sounds perfect. It sounds like a dream.

"Stella - are you sure? This is a huge deal. You want me?"

"I only want you. I can't picture working alongside anyone else. We made such a good team in culinary school, and we always said we'd find each other in the future."

"I... I don't even know what to say."

"Say yes!" she encourages, giggling down the phone.

"Yes!" you echo, giddy with joy. "God, Stella, yes!"

You're smiling from ear to ear, unable to wipe the grin off your face. Your dream job has been presented to you on a silver platter. You'd be stupid not to take it.

"I mean - when do I start? What should I wear? Do you want a set menu, or can I change it up all the time? Vegan options? Gluten free?"

"I can send you all of the boring stuff in an email - contracts, salary information, all that shit. You can quite literally do whatever the fuck you want, girl. I trust you completely. I trust your culinary skills even more."

"Oh my god, I'm so excited. Thank you, Stella. Seriously. This is just amazing."

"I can't wait to have you here with me again!"

You process for a moment, trying to make sense of what she just said.

"Wait... what? Where?"

"In California. The café is here, in California!"

You can't hear her next words due to the ringing in your ears. Your chest tightens, your hands ball into fists, your breathing becomes ragged.

There's a million thoughts racing through your mind, and you can't quite get a firm grasp on any of them.

Bucky would never leave this place. This is his home. I can't ask him to abandon his life here - I wouldn't want to. We've been soulmates for two days. What about his job? His friends? Would I leave everything behind and move across the country for him? I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I can't have my cake and eat it too. He'd give everything up for me in a heartbeat - I can't let him. It's not fair.

You're suddenly intensely aware - you have to make a choice.

Bucky or your dreams.

Tag List -

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk

tag list continued here <3

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader smut #dadsbestfriend!bucky x reader #dadsbestfriend!bucky #dadsbestfriend!bucky barnes #sebastian stan #dbf!bucky barnes x reader #Honey Girl #soulmate!bucky barnes #dbf!bucky barnes #dad's best friend bucky barnes #soulmate au #soulmate!au #soulmate!bucky barnes x reader #dbf!bucky #bucky fluff

[fawnindawn]

the line between thieves and healers (Luke Castellan x apollo fem! reader)

Summary: Luke Castellan returns from his quest as a ghost of his old self with a bleeding scar to prove it. With his golden boy exterior all but shattered, no one in camp has tried to approach him since his return. This changes when you stumble upon the son of Hermes when he decides to go back to his old roots, stealing from your infirmary at midnight.

pairing: luke castellan x apollo fem! reader

Content: forced proximity, tending to wounds, luke develops a little crush, set after Luke's failed quest in the Garden of Hesperides, mentions of injuries and scars, Luke tries and fails at being mean, hurt-comfort, fluff

masterlist for this series (everything in between) every part in this series can be read as a stand alone!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

"Come on." One of the campers prodded despite your obvious discomfort. "I'm sure you've squeezed something out of Castellan by now. He's been silent about what happened during his quest for days."

"I told you, I don't know anything, and even if I did, patient confidentiality exists." You repeated for the ninth time in a week. Ever since people found out Luke had come personally to you to tend to his wounds, they had lost all decency over the hope of digging for some good gossip. If you were asked one more time, you were sure you would tell them to stick their noses right back up their asses and leave.

Even after his return, Luke Castellan remained a constant in word of mouth around camp over his sudden change in persona. His usual grin and charm was replaced with a dark gloom unfitting for the son of Hermes, who used to light up any room he entered. The scar that permanently rests on his face didn't make it easier for him to avoid watching eyes either. After refusing to play in Capture the Flag for the first time in history, whatever patience the camp was trying to uphold dissipated into chaos.

Sure, you could see why it was a big deal. If you're a person with a sane enough mind (of course, not guaranteed in the premises of Camp Half-Blood), you’d understand why the fellow camp counsellor of the Hermes Cabin was popular. With his constant presence around camp as the cool, attractive camp counsellor helping other campers with that small quirk up his lips, or through word of mouth of how talented and kind he was, it wasn't a huge surprise that he attracted as much attention as he did.

Once the ninth camper in a row finally gave up and left with a huff, your eyes lingered over the bed where you first tended to Luke.

_

It was the dead of night when you were woken by the sound of creaking wooden floorboards and the cold chill of the wind that had somehow been brought into the infirmary. Somehow, you had overslept again on your shift and no one had bothered to wake you up or even check for your missing presence in your cabin.

Groaning at the awkward shift of your bones from your horrible sleeping posture on the desk, you were halfway through your stretch to crack your stiff neck when you heard the sound of footsteps. Freezing in place, you paused to listen in once more only to heard the soft thud once again. Peering to the left side of the infirmary, your heart stopped.

"Hey, listen." You spoke with that awkward crack in your voice whenever you go too long without speaking, causing the large shadow to flinch, pausing in its pursuit through your medicine cabinet. "I may not seem like it, but I am the best in combat in my cabin so whoever you are, step away from the cabinet and put your hands up."

Gee, that's convincing, you sound like an unnamed extra from the first few minutes of a horror movie before they ended up six feet under. Cursing yourself internally, you watched the shadow raise to full height from it's bent position. Gulping at the height that seemed to be at least six feet, you wonder if you should have just left this cabinet thief be and go to sleep for the night.

Why would anyone even want to ransack an infirmary at midnight?

You quickly grabbed for your oil lamp situated beside you, still flickering with the smallest of flames and you stood from your chair, causing it to creak back and scratch at the wooden floors as you made your way around the table to approach the thief.

The light was dim, but you spotted the familiar outline of a broad back and curls before he even fully turned.

"Castellan?" You gasped in half-asleep shock, disbelief obvious in your tone as you moved the oil lamp nearer to prove your eyesight wasn't playing tricks on you.

He didn't respond verbally to the call of his name, but when he turned around, his eyes narrowed on you as if you were the intruder. You barely had the chance to form words, questions- before you spotted the dripping crimson liquid near his eye.

"Oh gods." You muttered, grabbing at his arm and tugging him towards the nearest bed. "Why didn't you wake me up? It's not like you could wrap this up yourself."

With some struggle, he finally gave in, plopping down the edge of the bed and watched you scour through the medicine cabinet for bandages and other supplies, muted and stiff.

"I seriously don't understand why you didn't wake me up. Would you rather bleed to death or get an infection?" You scolded, your inner concern bleeding through your usual sense of politeness for injured visitors.

"Maybe." You thought you heard him mumble, but when you turned to look at him, he was facing the window right beside the bed and staring out into the shadows of the forest, the glow of the moonlight illuminating his features like a haunted painting, blood dripping down his cheekbones like fallen tears. You waited longer for an elaboration but there was none. You assumed you heard wrong, or at least you hoped you did.

You got off your knees, splaying out the supplies on the surface of the bed beside him, and pulled up a stool for you to sit at. He was still facing away from you, and your irritation combined with your lack of sleep made you more reckless than you'd usually be with an injured patient.

You gripped at his chin, forcing him to look at you, watching with satisfaction as his eyes widened at the sudden force. He looked more alive when he was caught off guard, his face devoid of the usual disinterest and distance it had ever since he arrived back from his quest.

"How do you expect me to treat you if you keep looking away from me, Castellan?" You challenged, gazing back into his eyes with fire you hoped was fierce enough to break down the coldness in his gaze.

After seconds of nothing but two stubbornheads trying to win a useless battle of eye contact, he sighed. "..Fine."

You were more gentle after that, letting go of his chin and reaching for the cloth. Your hands remained delicate on his skin that seemed to have pulled at the edge of the scar, where it was now bleeding again through its previous stitches. You mumbled a warning before dapping a wet handkerchief on top of the wound to soak in the blood, and he unintentionally grabbed at your thigh as he tried not to hiss out in pain.

You froze at the sudden tight grip, moving the cloth away from his skin and he was quick to retract his hand, positioning it awkwardly on top of the bedsheets instead.

"It's okay if you grab me." You reassured. "It'd be easier for me to gauge if you need me to stop when it gets too painful. You could give me a squeeze if you need a breather?"

You waited, watching his thoughts flicker through his narrowed eyes before slowly, his hand went to rest around your thigh again.

Ignoring the warmth of his palm on your skin, you cleared your throat. "Ready?"

He nodded stiffly, and you went back to work. After the cut had stopped bleeding, you were quick to grab the gauze and bandages. Tenderly, you placed the gauze above his wound, then wrapped the bandages around his face, from the top of his head to below his chin. This was the closest you had ever been to him, and you could feel and hear both his and your breathing in the quiet silence of the infirmary, with no living signs of life aside from the two of you on the infirmary bed and the dim orange hue of the oil lamp.

You could feel his intense gaze on you from his one good eye, while you concentrated on tying a secure knot so it wouldn't fall loose. The moment felt oddly intimate, knowing how sensitive his temper had been ever since he arrived back at camp, scarred in ways not even ambrosia could heal fully.

His hand resting around your thigh felt hot, and you tried to ignore how it your mind subconsciously kept track of every time his thumb would brush over the material of your pants.

"Next time.." You hinted, hopefully not crossing his boundaries. "If this happens again, you come straight here, got it? I don't care if I'm sleeping or attending someone else. You are not allowed to take care of a wound like this yourself, especially since I remember how reckless you can be."

Luke Castellan may be an excellent swordsman, but his cockiness was one weakness that he failed to keep controlled, and on days where it won over, he would always end up at the infirmary with a bashful smile as he tried to explain to you on how he ended up with a dislocated shoulder. That felt like eons ago, when that cheeky smile would always be present on his face, his signature move in getting away with any chaos he caused.

Staring at him now, you caught sight of that smile for such a split second you could've sworn you mistook it.

You couldn't stop the teasing smile that slipped past your stern attitude. "Was that a smile I saw, Castellan?"

He cleared his throat, his face falling back into practiced nonchalance, wearing a frown too forced to be real. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I may be sleep-deprived because a certain someone decided midnight was the best time to ransack an infirmary, but I'm not blind. For making me work overtime, I at least deserve to know what you found so amusing."

He made a face, and you were sure if his face wasn't tightly bandaged, he would roll his eyes in exasperation. "I wasn't amused. Just don't remember you being this.. unhospitable with someone that's injured. And I am not reckless."

You scoffed, causing him to look over at you. "I'd say trying to steal from an infirmary is pretty reckless. I thought Hermes kids were supposed to be good in stealing?"

You realised all too late that you may have touched on a sensitive topic, with the mention of his father, but he didn't seem to notice over the frank insult of being called a bad thief.

"I am excellent in stealing." He bit back so quickly, you choked on a snort. Hermes kids and their egos. "I was just going easy on you because you were knocked out at your desk. Oh, and you snore, you know that?"

"I do not."

"Do too."

"You're a liar and a thief. Don't get why your reputation is as marvelled upon as it is, Castellan. You don't live up to the hype at all."

"Oh, and what about you, Miss Sunshine?" He retorted. "Aren't you suppose to be the famous sweetheart who sings all injuries away with a smile on your face?"

"Don't call me that ever again." You must have looked extremely repulsed because he let out a laugh so genuine, it wiped any disgust off your face at the sound of pure heaven flooding into your ears. God, you forgot he could laugh like that.

"Yeah, I suppose it doesn't suit you, does it?" He murmured. "Maybe Apollo kids are only nice when others are around to see it."

"You've only come back meaner, Castellan." You scoffed. "I almost regret helping you. Would much rather see you stumble over trying to deal with this yourself if I knew you'd be so ungrateful."

"Sounds righteous of you." He nodded with a sarcastic hum. "Leaving me to bleed out to death while you watch. I understand why the camp has such high stakes when it comes to survival now. Never knew there was a sadist hiding in you, sunshine."

"I told you not to call me that." You reminded. "And I'm doing the best I can to keep everyone here alive so don't come to my infirmary talking about stakes when I've just saved your ass from blood loss."

Your response triggered something in him and he grew silent, his gaze locked on you as if analyzing you. That was when you're really reminded of how awful you must've looked. With your bed hair, sunken-in dark circles and sunken shoulders from the lack of sleep, you did not exactly feel the most confident. You didn't know what happened to make the casual atmosphere disappear as fast as it did, but you were anxious that somehow, you had shut him up again and you'd never get the chance to see him that way again, with his playful banter and light-heartedness of a teenage boy that he should have.

"You shouldn't have to." He muttered, almost to himself rather than to you. A seriousness unlike the previous few quips he'd thrown at you took ahold of him, and you had a feeling this was a slither of who he had really become through his rapid transformation, hidden under the jokes and sarcasm.

"What?"

"You shouldn't have to." He repeated a little louder, trying to get you to see his point. A point he'd been trying to tell Chiron, his friends even- ever since he came back here, only to be meet with pitying looks like he was a madman who spoke nonsense to try and make sense of his failure. "Lives should not be your responsibility. You're younger than me, and yet, you're dealing with kids that are near death's door every time they make it past that barrier. I barely made it back here. Some don't even.."

Luke tried to breathe, remembering how he got to camp in the first place. The unnecessary sacrifice that had to be made, the tree that now rests at the barrier of camp, the sound of thunder and pouring rain beating at his face.

"Now, I'm stuck with this disgusting scar of my face for the rest of my life, a stupid reminder every single time I look at myself, that I failed my only chance at proving I was something more than just wasted potential. Now I've gone and screwed it up for everyone because I couldn't do some easy quest someone else already accomplished-" He winced suddenly, grabbing onto the bandaged part of his face that seemed to grow more irritated and inflamed as he spoke.

You were quick to reach for his hand, knowing his aggression may harm the wound more. "It is not disgusting." You answered for him, and slowly, your hand rested over his, removing it from his face so he wouldn't accidentally cause the wound to start bleeding again. "You are not a failure, Luke."

"Don't take pity on me by saying words you don't mean." He muttered. "Everyone expected me to succeed, I could feel it in their gaze when they looked at me. I was supposed to be the best, and just because everyone told me that, I believed it. Now, I'm nothing but a disappointment to everyone."

He didn't know why he was saying all this to you. Maybe because you were the only person to treat him normally in the past two weeks, to really listen instead of trying to get him to move on, and maybe because his heart felt like it was growing too heavy to carry on his own. The insecurity and vulnerability made him feel sick, and he found himself trying to tear his hands away from you out of the need to run, which only made him feel more disgusted with himself. Like a coward, his mind taunted.

You remained stubborn, holding onto his cold palms because you know he has had no warmth, no real genuine words spoken to him since he returned. No one to see him when it was clear he was suffering, that he needed all the time in the world and more to heal, and that he deserved more than self-loathing and an absent father who sentenced him to this fate.

"I am not pitying you." You insisted, and you leaned closer so he couldn't look away from you. "Your scar does not make you ugly or less valuable to anyone. It is not pity, it is a fact. You are a person who has survived a fate so close to death, and any feat to survive death is strength. You are strong, and you made it back here alive with a scar to prove it. It is not a sign of weakness."

"Anyone who tells you different has no right or say in your situation because they did not go through what you did." You said with a stern voice, your anger not towards him, but for him. "Not your father, not anyone."

Luke finally looked at you, like looked. His eyes were scanning all over your face as if not quite believing you were real, but the fire in your eyes was so magnetic, he couldn't look away. The pinch between your brows, the addictive warmth of your hands in his, and the close distance between the two of you, and yet, it didn't make his skin itch with the need to pull away. To hide in his corner and wallow over the heavy weight of knowing his world had ended in the Garden of the Hesperides. Or had it?

Your eyes looked right through him, and for once, he felt like there was someone there for him.

"I suppose I can see where your reputation comes from now, sunshine." He responded weakly, and his heart gave a thump when you smiled back at him.

"Healing's what I understand best." You shrugged casually, as if you didn't just silence his thoughts for a moment of peace, or that you have somehow dulled the internal blades that bled with self-hatred and world-consuming anger pointed at himself, and at the injustice of the gods who could not give a damn about their children. “If I can help you even a little, why shouldn’t I?”

He could feel time ticking again in the back of his mind, the night slowly passing into a new one, and he thinks as he holds your gaze, that maybe this world wouldn't be so painful to live in if he had someone to look at him the way you did.

"I don't know how I'm going to go back to normal. Or if I'll ever be normal again." He admitted, softer in his voice now that his mind didn't deem you as a threat.

"Normal can be lots of things." You said with a comforting smile. "It's normal to have a breakdown when you've nearly faced death. Multiple even. It's normal to feel fine one moment then not in the next. Healing isn't linear, and when you come to terms that you have a right to feel upset and a right to exist without being held to any expectations of others or what you think others want from you, it'll feel easier to just allow yourself to exist throughout the day. Not the perfect camp counsellor or a hero with no faults. Just as yourself."

He let your words sink in, his thumbs subconsciously rubbing over your knuckles, feeling the healed scars of your own from what he assumed must be from previous combat training. "I'm not that great as myself. You might find me disappointing."

You quirked your lips at that, and shook your head. "I don't believe in that one bit. You're already great just as you are now."

He raised a brow. "Even after trying to steal from your infirmary and having a mental breakdown past curfew?"

"Well, just be glad I was around because I'm much more understanding than Will would be with four hours of sleep."

"I am glad." He insisted. "That it's you."

"I'm glad it was me too." You reassured. "It is midnight though and there's Capture the Flag tomorrow, meaning someone's going to end up whining and moping in here in about eight hours so why don't you let me close shop and come by tomorrow, Castellan?"

"Luke." He corrected, giving you a smile you're sure must be the one the other campers rave about all the time. The charming one that made your heart stutter, even with half his face bandaged and eyebags resting below his caramel eyes.

"Luke." You tested it on your tongue tentatively, and it only seemed to spark an electricity between the two of you that you were sure he must've felt too. In the dark corner of the infirmary, with nothing but crickets and your hushed voice, you spoke again with a heavy heart when you needed to tell him to leave. "I have to close this place up or someone else might try and steal from the medicine cabinet, not that I thought it was possible before but.."

"Fine." He complied, getting off the bed and rising to his full height, towering over you and blocking the moonlight from your view. "I'll wait outside and walk you back to your cabin. It's the least I could do."

You tried not to seem too elated over the idea that you could spend a little more time with Luke, though you're sure your glowing smile must've shown. "Sure you're not just trying to improve your image around me, thief?"

He smirked, following you out to the front door while you wrestled for the keys in your pocket to lock up for the night. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

_

"What are you smiling about?"

You looked up from your daze to see Luke leaning over the door frame, watching you with a smirk over his face.

"Can't a girl smile just for the sake of it?" You bit back, cheeks flushing at the idea that he could've possibly seen your focus lingering a little too long on the bed he had sat on. "Why'd you drop out of Capture the Flag? You know your cabin's going to lose their streak to Ares at this point."

"Wanted to see someone." He replied with a shrug, pushing off the door frame to walk towards where you sat, leaning over your desk and watching you compile the latest stock of ambrosia into a box. "Plus, Athena and Hermes are joining for today so Annabeth's got it handled."

He shuffled his fingers along the edge of the table, outlining the curve before clearing his throat. "I heard you covering up for me just now, and I wanted to say thank you."

You looked up at him then, and his eyes seemed to convey that he was thanking you for more than just that. He looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t know how to.

"Eavesdropping on me now?” You teased. “Careful or you might end up becoming obsessed with a poor, overworked healer."

He scoffed exaggeratedly. "You wish. Just take the thank you. Should've known not to show my gratitude to an Apollo kid."

You stuck your tongue out at him before going on about how mind-blowing it can be that some kids really did not have emotional intelligence when it came to basic decency. Listening to you ramble on as you went on to arrange your first aid kits, Luke realised for all the disappointment he has experienced in his life, maybe there was one good thing his father led him to.

a/n: Couldn't resist writing how this duo met because I live and die for banter. inspired by 'my reputation's never been worse so you must like me for me' trope which is what i live and breathe for. His reputation as the perfect golden boy is in shambles, and sunshine couldn't care less.

taglist: @stars4birdie @elysiandumbash @kehlanislefttoe @mqg125 @madzlovez @0revna0 @auroraofthesun1 @idli-dosa @buubsii @kaylasficrecs @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @itsdragonius @moonlightfoxs-cantina

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan x apollo!reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan fic #luke castellan x y/n

[lyjen]

Mistake

Summary: (Y/n) has been feeling not too well, she’s 18 weeks pregnant but still suffers from nausea. When they’re on shift they somehow get into a hostage situation and they use (y/n)’s nausea as a distraction.

9-1-1 masterlist

________

Evan opened his eyes and he turned onto his side, reaching out beside him. His arm searched for her warm body. When he found his wife, he pulled her closer to his body.

Evan plants a kiss on her shoulder, and continues kissing her until he reaches the crook of her neck. She groans at his touch, and lets her hand go through his curls.

“Goodmorning” she whispered as she kissed his temple. He mumbled a goodmorning back, barely audible because he was still merged into her skin.

“How are you feeling today?” Evan asked, while he removed his face from the crook of her neck.

Since last week (y/n) has been feeling nauseous, she is now 18 weeks pregnant, morning sickness could still happen at this time into pregnancy. So they had nothing to worry about, right?

“I’m fine, better than I felt yesterday” she answered. The day before she spent most of the time hanging with her face above the toilet. But this was actually the first night she was able to sleep through, without getting out of bed to go and throw everything she ate or drank back out.

“Are you sure you’re good to work this afternoon?” He asked while (y/n) turned around in his arms. Without any hesitation she nodded, and placed her hand on his chest. “You know Bobby would understand if you explained, right?”

Evan was worried (y/n) would do more than she could take. She was stubborn, but she knew her limits.

He let his hand slide down and rest on her stomach. “You want to talk to baby Buckley?” She smiled, she knew exactly what Evan wanted. Since they found out she is pregnant, Evan started talking to her belly, every single day. It was now a standard procedure, it didn’t matter to him if it was six in the morning or two at night. He had to talk to baby Buckley.

His hand rubbed up and down over her belly as she turned to lay on her back and sit up, so Evan’s face was in one line with her belly.

“Hello in there” he smiled as he looked up at his wife. Her hand was still stroking through his curly morning hair.

“This is your dad speaking” he softly let his hand rub over her stomach.

“I just wanted to say, be kind to your mom. Don't step on her intestines, mommy has to work and can’t feel sick.” he spoke as he pointed at her belly as a warning sign.

(Y/n) smiled as he pressed a soft kiss to her stomach. “I love you very, very much, but please stop making mommy so sick”

He pressed one last long kiss on her stomach as he pushed himself to the end of the bed. (Y/n) let out a squeal as Evan stood up, put his hands on her legs and pulled her towards him.

Evan let her legs dangle on the end of the bed as he took place between her legs. He put a strand of her morning hair behind her ear as he let both of his hands rest on her cheeks. He pressed a kiss on her lips.

“You would tell me if you weren’t feeling well, right?” He wanted her to know that it was okay to call in sick for a day.

She nodded. “Yes, I would.. But I’m fine, I swear.” her eyes connected with her husband's eyes.

She loved being a firefighter. Just like Eddie, she also could help on the ambulance whenever they needed her to. But her heart belonged to being on truck.

(Y/n) has been put on light duties, and whenever she couldn’t help with rescuing people from buildings or other heavy work, she would help Hen and Chimney out with the ambulance. Some calls she had to sit out, waiting back at the station while the rest of the team had all the fun.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid today during shift.” she spoke softly as she looked at her husband. Evan chuckled. “You know how I am. I can’t promise that.”

She playfully pushed his shoulder, so he almost lost his balance. "Okay! okay! I will try and think before I act.”

“That’s better”

A smile appeared on Evan’s face.“You know what would be even better?” She raised a brow at his words, not knowing his plan. But she knew this look he was giving her..

She felt him come closer, he kissed her once more, and he pushed her back into the mattress with his body. He hovered over her body, she felt his warm breath all over body, leaving goosebumps wherever his breath connected with her skin..

______

“You really shouldn’t be doing that..” Eddie spoke up as he was walking past the truck with (y/n)’s legs sticking out.

A sigh left (y/n)’s mouth when she pushed herself with her legs, from underneath the truck on the roller board. She sat up as she clicked her spine into place. Her vision was blurry for a second, but when she blinked a few times, the blur in front of her eyes seemed to be gone.

“Don’t worry, I already fixed it.” she said as she stood up from the board and grabbed a cloth to wipe her dirty hands with. “You could’ve just asked one of us to do it.” Eddie said, trying to make eye contact with his colleague. “I’m pregnant Eddie, there's nothing wrong with my hands.” She said as she walked past him, pushing the dirty cloth into his chest.

“I’m just saying…” Eddie’s voice spoke up as she walked towards one of the benches in the station where her water bottle was.

”There’s nothing wrong with asking for help.” he continued his sentence as she chugged her water. As if she had run a marathon. (Y/n) gave a disgusted expression and grabbed her stomach as the water was trying to escape her mouth again.

She was basically living on some water and a cracker, she wasn’t hungry this morning and most of what she would eat would leave her body within minutes.

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows. “You okay?” He asked as she held her fist to her mouth and closed her eyes for a second.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” she said when she held out her hand as a stop sign. “(Y/n)..”

“Eddie, why don’t you put your nose in someone else’s business.” she held onto her water bottle as she wanted to make a beeline for the stairs.

“I assume that is the hormones talking” he mumbled as he just stayed right where he was.

“I swea-“ just as she wanted to shoot back at him, while pointing her finger at her protective team member, squealing tires and a gunshot rang through the street.

“What the hell was that?” Evan spoke as he jumped down the last two steps of the stairs.

As soon as Eddie heard the gunshots, he clicked on the button to close the garage door. But the door was on fifty percent of closing when a car drove through the garage door into the firehouse and stopped on the ambulance spot.

Hen and Chimney were out with the ambulance on a medical call while the rest of the team was trying to do some tasks inside.

Two guys stepped out of the vehicle, one of the men went to the backseat as he dragged out one more member, his chest fully covered in blood.

“Woah woah!” Evan called out when one of the two men pointed a gun at the three firefighters. (Y/n) took a quick glance behind her, to see if Evan was somewhere near her, seeing what was happening.

Evan’s stomach turned when he reached the lower ground of the firehouse. He was just enjoying his coffee in the loft, only to be interrupted by an arguing duo downstairs, gunshots and squealing tires.

His eyes wandered to his wife as he realized what was happening. Their eyes connected. She had an frightened expression projected all over her face.

The gun the man was pointing at Eddie and (y/n) switched every few seconds between the three firefighters. “Y’all know how to give first aid, right?” the man spoke as he pointed with his free hand to his injured friend.

Eddie tried to stay calm and nodded at his question while he had his hands up in the air. “Good. Then you can help my friend.” he spoke as he pointed the gun at Eddie and walked over to him. Eddie bit his lower lip, and simply gave the guy a dead stare.

“Are you gonna help my guy or what?” the man asked, closing distance between Eddie and him. “Why would we want to help someone who’s threatening us with a gun.” Evan spoke up, stone cold. The man scoffed at Evan’s reaction, and knocked the end of his gun on the side of the firefighter’s head.

A wave of pain went through Evan’s head as he received the ice cold gun to his skin. And his hand made its way to the painful spot. “Alright, let's see if you still won't help us if I did this..” The man grabbed (y/n)’s upper arm and pulled her towards him. A shiver rolled down (y/n)’s spine as she felt a cold metal resting on the side of her head.

“Hey! Don’t you fucking touch her!” Evan’s voice yelled through the massive open space of the 118 firehouse.

His arm was around her neck, pulled strongly around it so she had nowhere to go. She could feel the man laughing at the reaction he got from doing this. The second guy who was still with the injured man pointed his gun at Evan.

Her breath was shaking, she was terrified to take another breath. (y/n) didn’t want to believe what was happening right now. She felt like she was going to be sick. She tried to stay strong, to not show any weakness. But when she closed her eyes and squeezed them, a tear rolled over her cheek.

“Okay! okay! We will help you. But first, you got to let her go man..” Eddie tried to make a compromise. The man shook his head at first. “Look. She’s a paramedic. She can help your friend. But she can’t do that with a gun pointed at her head.” he tried to convince the man. Sure Eddie was also a paramedic. But they had to get (y/n) back to safety.

The man who was holding (y/n) still in his tight grip pushed the gun deeper into her skin, as he took a deep breath and breathed in her scent. He abruptly let go of the woman and he pushed her towards Eddie and Evan, who both catched (y/n).

_______

She was scared for her life and sweating like an otter as she wrapped the man's wounds. Her head was throbbing, and her vision was blurry as she secured the gauze on the man’s chest. It looked like she could see her own heartbeat through her eyes.

The injured man started to sound like he couldn’t breathe. “He’s developing a tension pneumothorax” (y/n) said as she ruffled through the medic bag searching for the equipment she needed to help the man. “Shit” she whispered under her breath as she sighed.

“(y/n) talk to me, what do you need?” Bobby’s voice spoke as he was sitting on a bench, with Evan and Eddie next to him at gunpoint. “I need a large bore needle. But I can't find it in the bag!” She says. “Stay calm okay, we have another medic bag in the truck.” Bobby tried to reassure her. “I need that needle if you want me to save your friend here” she spoke to the man who was also holding her at gunpoint while she was working on the man.

She wasn’t missing that needle in her bag. She wanted one of them to have the chance to radio dispatch or ambulance for help.

“You. Go get her that thingy” The gun pointed at Evan. His eyes shot up, in confusion. Unsure what was going on. They had restocked everything. They had enough needles in one bag. It looked like he had zoned out, while he watched his wife help this injured man while he held a gun to her head.

Evan slowly got onto his feet, and walked towards the truck. The gunmen couldn’t follow Evan to the truck, they were outnumbered. So they just hoped that he would return to them as fast as possible.

Evan sneaked to the front of the truck, and silently opened the driver's door. He grabbed the radio with his right hand as he silently pressed the side of the radio to talk.

“Dispatch this is truck one eighteen. I have a ten one hostage situation here. In need of emergency assistance.”

As soon as Evan disappeared between the trucks, (y/n) started to make loud sounds by digging through the medic bag. She hoped deep down that Evan would get her needle hint. And took the chance to radio dispatch.

The injured guy's breath was getting worse and worse by the minute. “What’s taking so long?” One of the guys called out as he started making its way towards the truck.

“I found it!” she yelled as she held the needle into the air, as if she had just won a price. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw Evan walking towards her with also a long bore needle in her hand. Evan jogged over, dropped the needle into her medic bag and gave her a wink.

He did it. He radioed someone. He called for help.

Her gloved hands opened the package of the needle. She squeezed her eyes and pushed the back of her hand to her forehead to try and get back her vision.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks when he sees (y/n) squeezing her eyes, trying to focus on the needle between her fingers. Sweat was dripping all over her forehead. She was pale, it looked like she could pass out any second.

“You want someone else to take over?” Eddie asked her. (Y/n) stayed silent, she didn’t give him an answer. His voice was dull, as if he was an echo inside of her head.

An angry voice filled the open space of the firehouse. “Hey! shut the fuck up!” he spoke as he pushed the gun to Eddie’s chest. Eddie stood up. “You really trust her to save your guy? Look at her! She’s practically about to faint!” he pointed at his colleague who was staring at the needle in her hand.

Her breathing became shallow and the world around her started to spin. She really tried to calm herself down, to make all the symptoms she felt, to leave her body.

“Do you really have time to make such a mistake?” Eddie says as he looks over to (y/n).

(Y/n)’s eyes started rolling to the back of her head as she completely lost the balance of her body. Gravity pushed her down to the ground and the needle fell out of her hands.

When both gunmen were looking at what was happening to the female firefighter, Bobby and Evan both pushed one guy to the ground as Eddie took over the other man.

“You got him?” Evan asked when Bobby pinned his knee onto the back of the man. He didn’t wait for an answer. He just ran to his wife, almost tripping over his own two feet, screaming her name as he rolled her onto her back.

Evan’s hand gently patted the side of her face. “Hey! Hey! (Y/n)!” he softly said as he continued patting the side of her face.

Her mouth left a groan, but her eyes stayed close. “Tell your child to stop bouncing on my intestines” she spoke weakly.

Evan smiled through his gasps and pulled his wife into his chest. His left hand rested on the back of her head, and his right arm was around her back. “Don’t you ever do this again.” he says as he plants a kiss on her hair.

The garage door opened, and filled the firehouse with blue siren lights and sounds.

#911 #911 fox #911 imagine #buck imagine #buck x reader #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley x reader #evanbuckley #imagine #911 abc

[qlossytbh]

𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 after a long day working on a specific murder case, all you want is to do was fall asleep, next to your boyfriend.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 fluff fluff and more fluff (i know the title is suggestive but there is no filf here) established relationship, brief mention of insecurity (spencer’s side), general talk of murder and cases

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.4k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 started criminals minds and i fear this man is gonna push me down a rabbit hole. im half-way season two so this fic is kinda inspired on season 2 spence

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It had been a long day. To start off, you had been called in early at six in the morning, due to an emergency that required your presence. You spent all day talking to witnesses, finally being able to establish a profile of the serial killer you were all hunting down.

You were utterly exhausted. You hadn't been sleeping entirely well, being kept up by nightmares regarding the current case and since it had been an eventful day, not only were you physically tired but mentally as well. What you were all currently dealing with wasn't the most brightening topic, which caused your energy to be drained quickly. Your body begged for a nap and so did your brain.

Since the serial killer was attacking through the city of New York, you and the BAU team were being situated at some random hotel while you stayed the week in order to get some advances on the case. The end of your shift was intended to be around seven thirty, but Hotch asked you to stay behind and help JJ with a few files along with Morgan. Being the person and colleague you were, you agreed without protest.

Those extra two hours were even longer with the never ending teasing of Morgan. Which varied from anything to everything, you knew how Morgan was. Being one of the youngest members on the team, he called dibs on the big brother role, which included the full package deal. Teasing, over-protectiveness, all of it.

It was now ten PM as you walked into the hotel lobby with him and JJ, chatting endlessly about some irrelevant topic your head couldnt entirely latch onto. Your heels were pulsating and you desperately needed to stretch out your back since it was incredibly cramped due to being hunched over for so long. You grimaced as you put a hand on your lower-back.

"Don't tell me you're getting back problems. At your age?" Morgan started. You glared up at him.

"No, these hotel mattresses are utter crap and I slept in some weird position last night." You looked over at the secretary that was eyeing you, unamused. You winced, feeling embarrassment seep into your chest as Morgan and JJ snickered quietly beside you. You smiled awkwardly and waved politely.

"Looks like someone's past their bedtime" He said patting your head. You glared and swatted his hand away.

"I'm not gonna even fight you on that since all I want to do right now is sleep." JJ checked her watch and elbowed Morgans side.

"We should probably go get some rest too," She stated, pointing her head in the opposite direction of the lobby. The room distribution had been messed up upon arrival, leaving half of the team on the left side of the building and the others on the right. "You need Morgan to walk you to your room?"

"I think I can make it to the second floor," You shook your head, laughing to yourself. "But thanks tough guy. Besides, Reids probably still up waiting for me."

They nodded to themselves and with one final goodbye, headed off to their rooms in the other direction. You turned and made your way to the elevator. Once inside, you closed your eyes and sighed heavily. Your head was pounding and your legs desperately begged you to stop moving them.

The elevator came to a stop and you pushed yourself off the wall, waiting for it to open. Once it did, the eerie setting of the empty hallways settled in. Of course your job was bound to leave you with an unsettling feeling of being alone, but you weren't going to ever live down letting Morgan walk you to your room. You quickly made your way to the door of the hotel room you shared with Spencer, slipping the keycard out your back pocket and opening the door.

Once inside, you slid off the heavy coat that hung on your shoulders and hung it on the rack near the door. You heard the sheets shuffling in the room. "Y/N?"

"Hey Spence," You said, walked into the hallway and leaning against the wall that pointed towards the room. "It's me."

You took a look at the sight in front of you and smiled happily, knowing only you had the pleasure of seeing Spencer like this. His back was propped up against the headboard, hairs flying across his forehead showing the contrast between his usual somewhat tamed hair. He had his glasses on and some book he had decided to read in his hand, allowing the small bulb of the nightstand lamp to give him some light to be able to see. You smiled his way tiredly as he looked over at you, setting his book down.

"You're back late," He stated. You let your head drop as you laughed.

"Me, JJ and Morgan were at those files longer than expected, I'm exhausted." You said. He patted the spot next to him.

"Then come sleep," You pushed yourself off the wall.

"I will, let me change and I'll be right with you,"

You turned and grabbed your cotton shorts and long sleeved shirt you usually used to sleep in. Some would debate the actual benefits of sleeping in shorts in New York winter were zero to none. Spencer had done so the first night you arrived, giving you all the reasons it wasn't beneficial and how likely you were to catch a cold. You fought back by explaining how you hated sleeping in long pants, you always had, no matter how cold it was. Besides, his body temperature was enough to heat up the whole bed, which was another beneficial reason to wearing shorts to sleep. Why avoid the cold when you had your very own personal human heater?

You looked at yourself in the mirror, failing to avoid the bags that were beginning to appear beneath your eyes. You quickly slipped off your turtleneck, sweater and jeans and put on your sleeping clothes. Once done, you left the bathroom, turning off the lights and closing the door behind you. As you made your way to Spencer's side of the bed, you pulled your hair out of the low bun it sat in.

When you began climbing into bed, Spencer threw the duvet cover backward, allowing you to climb in and rest yourself soundly between his legs, laying your head against his chest.

The comfortable surface of his sturdy yet soft chest was way more comfortable than the mattress, you just hoped you weren’t squishing him. The silence that surrounded the two of you was enough to put you to sleep in that very moment.

Spencer tossed his book onto the nightstand, slipping his glasses off his face as he quickly turned his attention to you. You placed your palms flat against his chest and rested on your chin, allowing yourself to look up at him with a tired smile.

"Hi." You said. He reached over, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and smiling down at you with his infamous dopey smile.

"Hi," He said back, smile growing wider. "Were those extra two hours hard to sit through?"

"Don't even," You groaned. "You were so lucky Hotch didn't grab you to help with those files. You also have no idea how jealous I am of the fact that you've been lying in bed since eight,"

He stared at you empathetically, letting his hand linger around your face, tracing patterns on your jaw while you looked up at him with big tired eyes. "Jealous of me? Being able to lay in these mattresses?"

You giggled. "Thats true, you're much more comfortable."

He let him thumb linger across your cheek, looking across your face lovingly. You closed your eyes and basked in the comfort of his gaze.

You and Spencer had been dating for over a year now. The two of you met when you became part of the BAU not long after he had started. Initially, you had gotten along so well in the begging due to how close the two of you were in age, but then it started shifting into something beyond that.

Every second spent with him would make you feel at peace. Working in the FBI had always felt so loud, but since you started working alongside Spencer, things became a little more quiet and less stressful. You loved spending time with him, and becoming best friends with him wasn't something that took long. You two were very similar after all. Before you knew it, you started seeing him outside of work, weekends, the majority of time was spent beside him.

It took a while for him to make a move, given since he wasn't the most socially outgoing person. It didn't take long for him to become your friend, but the second the two of you realized things were moving beyond a friendship, he'd become a rambling mess in the matter of seconds by just sharing a simple conversation with you. You found it extremely endearing realizing how much of an effect you had on him.

It took time but eventually, as your relationship began and you started spending time with each other in different ways, and getting to know each other on more of a romantic level. With time, he got more comfortable with himself and your growing relationship.

You gave him boost of confidence that no one else was able to cause. And slowly falling in love with him was probably one of the best things you've gone through.

Spencer leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lips, savoring any and every second he could with you. You sighed happily into the kiss, sensing how all your muscles began resting at his touch, how your body began feeling featherlike.

You pulled away, pecking his lips two more times just for desperate measures. "I missed you."

He hummed, placing a small kiss on your forehead before allowing his hands to travel down the side of your ribcage and onto your back. You hummed lowly, letting your eyes flutter close as you let him trace small patterns on your back with his fingernails. Your body suddenly covered itself in goosebumps, feeling nothing but overwhelming pleasure seep into every muscle and joint in your body. It made your heart flutter and swell, feeling how light his fingers danced across your skin and how gentle he was with you.

It had taken a lot for Spencer to open up to physical touch. You knew there was a side of him that loved being connected to you through any sort of physical contact, wether it be holding his hands, a kiss on the cheek, linking your arms together, saying hi in the morning with a hug or a soft peck. But his insecurities in the beginning of the relationship prevented him from letting that side show.

With time and patience, and lots of reassurance on your side, physical contact with you began nearly as necessary as breathing to Spencer.

Spencer always enjoyed giving you back scratches. He loved how your body immediately fell into his when he dragged his fingers along your back. He sometimes grabbed your arm to himself and traced patterns across while you were watching movies or when you woke up. There won’t be a day he forgets to greet you at your desk before heading to his own, despite always trying to avoid being seen by Morgan, who’d tease him endlessly, which is ultimately why he decides to keep his relationship with you far away from your coworkers. And so do you.

As much as everyone knew you were happily together, it wouldn’t be the same having every interaction scrutinized in both of your workplaces.

Nevertheless, he’ll always bend over your slouched position on your desk chair and say hi. He’ll let his hand linger on your back and trace repetitive circles almost always while you talked to him. Even if it was just thirty seconds, your body responded incredibly well to his soft touches.

His back scratches was just what you needed. Spencer was extremely good at reading you, and he responded to your needs in a way no one else had ever managed to. He knew that you looked more than exhausted when you got to the hotel room.

Right now, with his hands trailing around your tired body and aching back, you could practically feel yourself purring. His hand travelled along your shirt, reaching up beneath it to scratch your back without the layer of fabric, knowing you loved it even more. When he felt your body deflate he chuckled softly to himself.

"This is nice," You mumbled quietly, sighing contently.

"Did you know that when someone cratches your back, your brain releases Serotonin?" He started. You looked up at him with a wide smile as his hand continued traveling along your back.

"No, I did not."

"It's a neurotransmitter that promotes positive feelings. Our skin is abundant with sensory receptors which are called mechanoreceptors. When stimulated, specifically by human touch, they send signals to the brain which triggers pleasurable sensations. It's kind of like a light therapeutic touch, some people even call it scratch therapy." His hands traveled mindlessly, along with his words as he gazed up at the ceiling.

"Its primary purpose is to enhance one's mood for the better since it mainly releases endorphins and serotonin, hormones that tend to fight off cortisol. It's also said to relieve muscle tension, since the repetitive motion stimulates the natural release of these mood-boosting hormones. Your muscles respond and alleviate all the discomfort and stiffness on their own."

"Most importantly, it mimics gestures of affection and care. This specific type of touch motivates a sense of connection which can foster trust and bonding. Most people turn to this form of therapy because of how soothing the sensation can be both mentally and physically." He looked down at you only to find you watching him with all the affection you could possibly find in yourself.

"So thats why you always scratch my back, huh?" You pointed a finger at him and he smiled down at you, shrugging.

"Maybe,"

Spencer rambling about anything and every topic you could bring up was about your favorite thing about him, because unlike many people who knew him, you actually listened and soaked up every single word he said. Hell, you learned more with him in the past year than the first five years of your adulthood.

Watching him talk, and sound so clever and smart while doing so was something you immediately loved about him.

"I love when you go all wikipedia on me," You kissed the corner of his jaw and positioned yourself sound against his chest. He let out a low laugh as one of his arms held you against his chest while the other continued its repetitive patters. "Don't you dare stop with this scratch therapy stuff, I was just starting to feel that one knot in my back disappear."

He kissed the crown of your head as you began slipping off into your deep sleep. "Wasnt going to."

#spencer reid #spence #spencer #spencer x reader #spencer x you #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid x fanfiction #criminal case #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds x reader #fluff fanfiction #fiction #fanfic #fic rec #fluff #love #prompts

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

bully⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

tuesday, zhang hao— string ensemble

⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. game day (group) chapter here. all 7 endings here. ⋆˙⟡ wc: 2.8k ⋆˙⟡ reader: femme afab (listed first, she/her are used a couple times) // gender neutral (alternate version listed second, no pronouns used at all to describe reader— scroll down) ⋆˙⟡ series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated. ⋆˙⟡ tuesday summary: happy tuesday, you know what that means: two straight hours of wind ensemble. and it's made even more enjoyable by first chair, zhang hao, chewing you out for every mistake you make. he's been quiet today though. it's making your skin crawl. can you manage to get out unscathed?

⋆˙⟡ warnings: explicit smut. 18+. minors do not interact. please read specific smut warnings under the cut! swearing. angst. dub-con. bullying. stuck up, tattletale hao. this is a doozy. you'll be glad we took it easy monday. smut in gn and fem versions are substantially different due to logistics/circumstance. also i clearly know nothing about playing the violin so just 🤓☝️ pipe down over there, k? ily. actually would love to hear real violinists thoughts on this so hmu. ⋆˙⟡ bully scale: ★★★☆☆ (3.5)

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: foreign object and finger insertion (reader receiving), oral (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), dub-con: hao doesn't have consent before sexually touching reader but reader is turned on by it, cum play, bullying.

DO NOT PUT ROSIN UP YOUR HOO HA YA DINGUS!! purely for entertainment purposes, this fic exists in a world where there aren't consequences for that okay? DON'T. I REPEAT DON'T. DO THIS IRL. okay thank you, love you.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

you take a deep breath, bouncing nervously on the balls of your feet at the south campus entrance. you’d barely gotten any sleep last night after your encounter with jiwoong, too busy tossing and turning as you pictured the dirty looks you’d be getting all over campus the next day. but as you walk across the main courtyard to the music building this afternoon, you’re surprised and elated to hear no frantic whispers in response to your presence.

had jiwoong really kept what happened yesterday a secret? you find it hard to believe he’d want to protect your reputation and mental well-being. still, the proof was in the pudding and, so far, the pudding seemed entirely unaware of who you are. just how you like it.

on tuesday afternoons, you had string ensemble in place of advanced drama. although it was a relief to have jiwoong out of sight and out of mind, there was another force at play to deal with.

as you enter the orchestra room, you spot that force immediately— already seated and delicately coating the hairs of his bow with the lifetime supply of premium rosin he’d won for first place violinist at the chinese international music competition three years ago. you know this fact because he never lets you forget it.

with your violin case in your hand, you make your way to your seat: second chair, of course. first chair is eternally occupied by your conductor’s most favorite student.

you sit down in your black music chair, smoothing your skirt so that it doesn’t ride up while you play. opening your violin case, you carefully pull out your instrument and begin quietly tuning it as the rest of the string ensemble files in. you place your bow to the strings, playing a note to assess the sound. the note comes out airy and weak and it makes you inherently wince. 

“fucking fix that right now,” a familiar voice to your left suddenly demands. “i won’t ask again.”

your left eyebrow peaks in confusion as you mumble, “you didn’t ask a first time.”

he doesn’t even look at you. and though you already intended to fix the problem without his prompting, you place your violin back in its case and start to fish around in the velvet compartments for some rosin. when you come up empty, you start to panic.

“good afternoon, everyone,” professor ahn greets, tapping her conductor’s baton on the frame of her metal music stand. “we have a lot to get to today, so let’s just jump right in.”

shit. you really need rosin.

but there’s no way you can raise your hand and disrupt professor ahn’s flow. she already thinks you’re a second-rate violinist that “hides her lack of talent behind incessant practice”. this was a direct quote you’d received on your evaluation sheet last semester. besides, all professor ahn would probably say was that you should’ve made sure your bow was up to par before you even got to campus.

you couldn’t argue with that. it was the truth. but your little incident with jiwoong had preoccupied you and suddenly every perfectionist task you routinely performed seemed... obsolete. how could you let him get to you like this?

and why did it still feel so good?

professor ahn taps her baton again, signaling for everyone to turn to the first page of your spring concert repertoire. you swallow nervously, opening your sheet music booklet to tippett’s fantasia concertante on a theme of corelli. it’s an extremely difficult piece that an outstanding violinist struggles to play on a good day. and you would be playing it with your bow in a noticeably poor condition. 

you stumble through the piece as quietly as possible, cringing when the sound your instrument produces is less than satisfactory. though your ensemble is still learning the song, others’ mistakes aren’t enough to hide the strange performance coming from the second-chair violinist.

“zhang hao-sshi,” professor ahn suddenly calls. the boy to your left looks up at her in attention, causing your heart to sink to your stomach. “who is responsible for that unsatisfactory sound?”

you were foolish to think you could escape what inevitably always happened during string ensemble: the second of your five jerk-off bullies ratting you out in front of the whole orchestra.

there was a reason professor ahn held such distaste for you and your craft and that reason was zhang hao. each and every rehearsal, your professor would ask the first chair to list any mistakes he’d heard from your section and he apparently only ever noticed yours. you’d sit there, cheeks heating up with embarrassment as hao described every error you made in great detail that day— professor ahn taking note and deducting points from your rehearsal grade as she saw fit.

hao had seemingly made it his mission to single handedly make you quit violin in a sea of unbearable shame.

so you’re shocked when all hao replies is, “i apologize, professor ahn. i was too engrossed in playing to notice where the error was coming from.”

what the fuck? why would he lie? it couldn’t be to help you. hao would throw you to the wolves without a second thought if it meant remaining superior to you.

but his gaze returns to his sheet music, pencil floating across the paper as he quietly adds annotations. you’re honestly freaked out. had he hit his head? had the difficulty of the piece actually thrown him that much?

rehearsal ends shortly thereafter and you stay in your chair, silently tending to your violin next to hao. you’re both usually the last to leave, but hao always makes it a point to stay just a few seconds longer than you. just to prove something.

after your instrument is safely back in its case, you stand up and make your way over to the instrument storage closet. you find your cubby, pulling out your key and unlocking your unit so you can leave your violin there for the remainder of your classes this afternoon. 

as you place your violin case gently inside and lock your cubby, the unexpected sound of footsteps behind you makes you freeze in place. slowly, you turn around to find hao standing in the doorway of the storage closet.

weird. hao would never undermine his unparalleled musicianship by keeping his violin in a public storage unit. he sets his case down next to him, crossing his arms and leaning on the left side of the door frame.

“i’m waiting,” is all he says, brow raised expectantly. 

you look to your left and right, trying to discern what it is hao could be waiting for. you can’t find anything of note. “um... for what?”

“what do you mean, for what?” hao spits, eyes narrowing angrily. “i didn’t tell professor ahn about any of the mistakes you made today. and i don’t know if you noticed, but you made a fuck ton.”

and the shoe drops, you think.

“did you not even notice my act of kindness?” he asks indignantly. “don’t you think i at least deserve a thank you?”

“oh,” you reply, tilting your head in surprise. you swallow the urge to tell him that kindness in demand of a thank you is not exactly kindness and instead, just nod. “yeah. thank you. i guess.”

it must be some weird power play over you. it’s probably best to make a swift exit and not give him the attention he wants, so you turn on your heel and start to walk toward the door to leave. but as you approach the exit, hao reaches across the door frame— your chest colliding directly with his forearm as he blocks you in.

“c-... can i get through? i have to be in calc iii in fifteen minutes,” you ask with a frown.

hao’s arm stays glued to the other side of the door as he continues to stare at you. “i want a better thank you.”

“you—... why?” you question, brow furrowing in confusion. “i already said thank you. and i didn’t even ask you to lie for me in the first place.”

hao blinks at you. “so you’re not grateful?”

“honestly, you’re kind of making me uncomfortable,” you reply, ducking under his arm and walking back out into the orchestra room. “so if my lack of gratitude means you’re going to go back to humiliating me in front of the entire string ensemble every day... i guess i’ll just have to continue living with it.”

you make it halfway out of the rehearsal room when you hear a faint: “wait.”

you turn around to find a slightly panicked hao still standing in the doorframe of the storage closet. 

“you need rosin, right? you ran out?” he asks, as if he couldn’t tell exactly what your problem had been from hearing you play today. “i’ll give you some of mine.”

clearly you’ve just hallucinated. you’re so stressed from yesterday’s events that you’ve started hearing things. or maybe you’re still asleep in your bed at home. or maybe you’re dead. because there’s no way hao would ever give you his beloved rosin.

“let me just get it out of my case,” he says, bending down to the ground and opening up his very expensive violin case. you walk over to him slowly, partly because you don’t believe him and partly because you’re starting to worry something is terribly wrong with him.

“hao, are... are you feeling okay?” you ask, stepping back into the storage closet and watching as he pulls out a fresh cake of premium rosin. it’s a box-shape with rounded edges and no plastic holder, the golden-brown hardened sap shining beautifully even in the dim light of the storage closet.

he stands back up, holding the rosin between his fingers delicately. “never better.”

“you’re—... you’re gonna give me your cimc prize rosin?” you ask, incredibly confused. “why would you do that?”

“because you need it. don’t you?” he answers with a shrug.

“but... but—.” you protest, head spinning a million miles a minute trying to make sense of hao’s bizarre and uncharacteristic display of benevolence. “what’s the catch?”

with no discernible inflection, hao repeats, “the catch.”

“i don’t see why you’d give this to me without a price,” you elaborate skeptically. “you don’t like me. you’re actively mean to me actually. it doesn’t make sense that you’d give me something you value without asking for anything in return. i mean, you couldn’t even randomly choose to cover for me during rehearsal without demanding a thank you after.”

hao considers this for a moment and then nods. “well, what if i ask for the same thing then? in exchange for this rosin, i want a thank you.”

“i can’t even begin to figure out what’s gotten into you today,” you respond with a reluctant sigh, “but fine. i guess i can agree to your terms.”

“we have a deal,” hao affirms with a stupid, perfect smirk. he closes the gap between you, holding out the rosin in his palm. when you try to take it from him, he retracts his hand. “i’ll take the thank you first actually.”

“sure,” you agree, rolling your eyes. “thank you.”

he tilts his head to the side, prompting, “what was that?”

“thank you, hao. i really appreciate you giving me your rosin,” you feed flatly, hoping you’ve finally appeased him.

“an improvement,” he says before shaking his head again. “but i’m still not loving the tone coming out of you... i think you could use some rosin.”

“what do you—” you start to ask, but it’s already too late. without any time to spare, the door is shut behind you and a sudden draft hits your heat as your panties are shoved to the side beneath your skirt. the air leaves your lungs as long, thin fingers dip through your folds and squeeze something cold and smooth inside of you.

“there you go,” hao smiles, incredibly satisfied with the stunt he’s just pulled. “i think that might help your tone.”

“y-you... did you...” you stammer as you gawk at the boy in front of you. your cheeks are beet red at the violation of your sex. you’re in such shock that all you can whisper is, “you can’t put that in... there.”

“an instrument should be well cared for,” he challenges, sinking to his knees and running his hands up and down your bare thighs. “gonna make you sound so pretty.”

there’s a flutter in your core that you desperately want to silence. you could not be turned on by this. one of the men you hate most in this world just shoved a foreign object up you without asking. so why is the hungry look in his eyes as he backs you against the wall of storage units exciting you?

hao hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs. you step out of them without a word. he lifts your right leg over his shoulder, bringing your cunt closer to his face as he holds your hips steady.

he licks a stripe starting just above your opening to your clit as if he wants to taste every inch of you. the sensation makes you gasp and then immediately cover your mouth in shame. were you really enjoying this?

“hm, still an airy sound,” hao observes, eyes locked on your center as his fingers grip into your hips. “definitely needs more rosin.”

he dives back in, lapping at your cunt— tongue flicking your bundle of nerves as your arousal builds. you must’ve fallen into an alternate dimension. fainted. been in a terrible bus accident on your way to campus. but why you’d dream of hao’s head between your thighs in a storage closet is beyond your comprehension.

the more he works you with his mouth, the more hums and sighs escape your lips but all of your worries aren’t eased just yet.

“it’s... it’s gonna melt,” you say softly, starting to feel a bit dizzy. “the r-ros—.”

“rosin starts to crumble from heat at 50 degrees celsius,” hao interjects in between sloppy traces of his tongue. “the average internal temperature of a vagina is 37.5 degrees.”

“but—”

“don’t act like you don’t know how numbers work. aren’t you in calc iii?” hao ridicules, biting gently at your clit. you throw your head back at the sensation as he increases the pressure of his tongue against you. “are you just a fraud in every subject you take?”

“hao,” you beg, his slander just adding to the pleasure you’re feeling as your right hand tangles up in his hair— tugging from the root. “feels so good. so, so good.”

“fuck, that’s beautiful baby,” hao pants, right hand detaching from your hip. he parts your entrance with his fingers, the cake of rosin slipping out into his palm with a crude, wet smack. you both stare at the golden brown block, still perfectly intact but now dripping in your arousal. he drags it down the inside of your thighs, mesmerized by the trail of glistening honey it leaves on your skin. “mm, coated perfectly now.”

he drops the rosin on the floor next to you, replacing the empty space in your pussy with his ring and middle fingers. you gasp at the stretch, clenching involuntarily around him.

“i think you’re ready to play,” hao decides, curling his fingers up inside of you against your front wall and pressing on your clit with his thumb. he watches you intently, mouth open slightly as he drinks in the sight of you writhing in pleasure. “c’mon, baby. let me hear you.”

you do as he says, moaning as the pads of his fingers press into your sweet spot again. with every rhythmic stroke, your sounds grow less inhibited and hao grows more entranced. he’s making the face he usually makes while playing his violin— focused, impassioned, and devastatingly sexy. 

was hao enjoying playing you as much as he enjoyed playing his other instrument?

“gon—... gonna make me cum,” you whine after another minute, the look in hao’s eyes turning feral. he immediately returns his mouth to your cunt, sucking at your sensitive bud with a renewed vigor.

as hao brings you closer to the brink of orgasm, your moans only grow louder and sweeter like a crescendo. the harmonic sounds coming out of you are intensified by an increase in the pace of his finger-fucking. it’s all too much for you to handle, your walls spasming around him uncontrollably.

“oh my god, hao—,” you cry, your climax crashing over you like the perfect wave. “c-cumming... i—...”

you can barely hold yourself up, clinging to the shelves on either side of you as hao works you through your high. your breathing returning to normal, he looks up at you as he pulls his fingers out of your pussy— lips pink and glistening with your juices. 

he removes your right leg from around his shoulder, eyes locked with yours as he stands up and brushes the dust off his knees. 

“th-thank... you,” is what comes out of you as you stare at him, dumbfounded. “thank you.”

“yeah, sure,” hao replies dismissively. after making such a big deal about a thank you, it figures he’d pretend he never cared in the first place. “clean off that rosin and use it next week or i’ll tell professor ahn you stole it from me.”

“oh. okay,” you quietly agree, unable to control the awkward energy that’s now tying your tongue. “um. thanks... again.”

he just shrugs, walking over to the door and picking up his violin case. unlocking the door and pushing it open, he takes a few steps out the door before suddenly stopping in his tracks. he turns over his shoulder to look at you. “i almost forgot to ask...”

you gulp at the sight of the upturned corner of his lip in a smug grin.

“... was it better than jiwoong hyung?”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

gender neutral version below

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: hand/oral (reader receiving), throat fucking with fingers (reader receiving), dubcon: hao does not have consent before inserting fingers into reader's mouth, reader is turned on by this, cum play, bullying.

IF YOU WANT TO COVER YOUR ROSIN IN CUM, YOU CAN I'M NOT THE BOSS OF YOU but from everything i've read in research for this fic, it will ruin it so maybe don't. up to you tho, babe. love you.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

you take a deep breath, bouncing nervously on the balls of your feet at the south campus entrance. you’d barely gotten any sleep last night after your encounter with jiwoong, too busy tossing and turning as you pictured the dirty looks you’d be getting all over campus the next day. but as you walk across the main courtyard to the music building this afternoon, you’re surprised and elated to hear no frantic whispers in response to your presence.

had jiwoong really kept what happened yesterday a secret? you find it hard to believe he’d want to protect your reputation and mental well-being. still, the proof was in the pudding and, so far, the pudding seemed entirely unaware of who you are. just how you like it.

on tuesday afternoons, you had string ensemble in place of advanced drama. although it was a relief to have jiwoong out of sight and out of mind, there was another force at play to deal with.

as you enter the orchestra room, you spot that force immediately— already seated and delicately coating the hairs of his bow with the lifetime supply of premium rosin he’d won for first place violinist at the chinese international music competition three years ago. you know this fact because he never lets you forget it.

with your violin case in your hand, you make your way to your seat: second chair, of course. first chair is eternally occupied by your conductor’s most favorite student.

you sit down in your black chair, propping your sheet music booklet up onto your music stand. opening your violin case, you carefully pull out your instrument and begin quietly tuning it as the rest of the string ensemble files in. you place your bow to the strings, playing a note to assess the sound. the note comes out airy and weak and it makes you inherently wince. 

“fucking fix that right now,” a familiar voice to your left suddenly demands. “i won’t ask again.”

your left eyebrow peaks in confusion as you mumble, “you didn’t ask a first time.”

he doesn’t even look at you. and though you already intended to fix the problem without his prompting, you place your violin back in its case and start to fish around in the velvet compartments for some rosin. when you come up empty, you start to panic.

“good afternoon, everyone,” professor ahn greets, tapping her conductor’s baton on the frame of her metal music stand. “we have a lot to get to today, so let’s just jump right in.”

shit. you really need rosin.

but there’s no way you can raise your hand and disrupt professor ahn’s flow. she already thinks you’re a second-rate violinist that “hides your lack of talent behind incessant practice”. this was a direct quote you’d received on your evaluation sheet last semester. besides, all professor ahn would probably say was that you should’ve made sure your bow was up to par before you even got to campus.

you couldn’t argue with that. it was the truth. but your little incident with jiwoong had preoccupied you and suddenly every perfectionist task you routinely performed seemed... obsolete. how could you let him get to you like this?

and why did it still feel so good?

professor ahn taps her baton again, signaling for everyone to turn to the first page of your spring concert repertoire. you swallow nervously, opening your sheet music booklet to tippett’s fantasia concertante on a theme of corelli. it’s an extremely difficult piece that an outstanding violinist struggles to play on a good day. and you would be playing it with your bow in a noticeably poor condition.

you stumble through the piece as quietly as possible, cringing when the sound your instrument produces is less than satisfactory. though your ensemble is still learning the song, others’ mistakes aren’t enough to hide the strange performance coming from the second-chair violinist.

“zhang hao-sshi,” professor ahn suddenly calls. the boy to your left looks up at her in attention, causing your heart to sink to your stomach. “who is responsible for that unsatisfactory sound?”

you were foolish to think you could escape what inevitably always happens during string ensemble: the second of your five jerk-off bullies ratting you out in front of the whole orchestra.

there was a reason professor ahn held such distaste for you and your craft and that reason was zhang hao. each and every rehearsal, your professor would ask the first chair to list any mistakes he’d heard from your section and he apparently only ever noticed yours. you’d sit there, cheeks heating up with embarrassment as hao described every error you made in great detail that day— professor ahn taking note and deducting points from your rehearsal grade as she saw fit.

hao had seemingly made it his mission to single handedly make you quit violin in a sea of unbearable shame.

so you’re shocked when all hao replies is, “i apologize, professor ahn. i was too engrossed in playing to notice where the error was coming from.”

what the fuck? why would he lie? it couldn’t be to help you. hao would throw you to the wolves without a second thought if it meant remaining superior to you.

but his gaze returns to his sheet music, pencil floating across the paper as he quietly adds annotations. you’re honestly freaked out. had he hit his head? had the difficulty of the piece actually thrown him that much?

rehearsal ends shortly thereafter and you stay in your chair, silently tending to your violin next to hao. you’re both usually the last to leave, but hao always makes it a point to stay just a few seconds longer than you. just to prove something.

after your instrument is safely back in its case, you stand up and make your way over to the instrument storage closet. you find your cubby, pulling out your key and unlocking your unit so you can leave your violin there for the remainder of your classes this afternoon. 

as you place your violin case gently inside and lock your cubby, the unexpected sound of footsteps behind you makes you freeze in place. slowly, you turn around to find hao standing in the doorway of the storage closet.

weird. hao would never undermine his unparalleled musicianship by keeping his violin in a public storage unit. he sets his case down next to him, crossing his arms and leaning on the left side of the door frame.

“i’m waiting,” is all he says, brow raised expectantly. 

you look to your left and right, trying to discern what it is hao could be waiting for. you can’t find anything of note. “um... for what?”

“what do you mean, for what?” hao spits, eyes narrowing angrily. “i didn’t tell professor ahn about any of the mistakes you made today. and i don’t know if you noticed, but you made a fuck ton.”

and the shoe drops, you think.

“did you not even notice my act of kindness?” he asks indignantly. “don’t you think i at least deserve a thank you?”

“oh,” you reply, tilting your head in surprise. you swallow the urge to tell him that kindness in demand of a thank you is not exactly kindness and instead, just nod. “yeah. thank you. i guess.”

it must be some weird, new power play over you. it’s probably best to make a swift exit and not give him the attention he wants, so you turn on your heel and start to walk toward the door to leave. but as you approach the exit, hao reaches across the door frame— your chest colliding directly with his forearm as he blocks you in.

“c-... can i get through? i have to be in calc iii in fifteen minutes,” you ask with a frown.

hao’s arm stays glued to the other side of the door as he continues to stare at you. “i want a better thank you.”

“you—... why?” you question, brow furrowing in confusion. “i already said thank you. and i didn’t even ask you to lie for me in the first place.”

hao blinks at you. “so you’re not grateful?”

“honestly, you’re kind of making me uncomfortable,” you reply, ducking under his arm and walking back out into the orchestra room. “so if my lack of gratitude means you’re going to go back to humiliating me in front of the entire string ensemble every day... i guess i’ll just have to continue living with it.”

you make it halfway out of the rehearsal room when you hear a faint: “wait.”

you turn around to find a slightly panicked hao still standing in the doorframe of the storage closet. 

“you need rosin, right? you ran out?” he asks, as if he couldn’t tell exactly what your problem had been from hearing you play today. “i’ll give you some of mine.”

clearly you’ve just hallucinated. you’re so stressed from yesterday’s events that you’ve started hearing things. or maybe you’re still asleep in your bed at home. or maybe you’re dead. because there’s no way hao would ever give you his beloved rosin.

“let me just get it out of my case,” he says, bending down to the ground and opening up his very expensive violin case. you walk over to him slowly, partly because you don’t believe him and partly because you’re starting to worry something is terribly wrong with him.

“hao, are... are you feeling okay?” you ask, stepping back into the storage closet and watching as he pulls out a fresh cake of premium rosin. it’s a box-shape with rounded edges and no plastic holder, the golden-brown hardened sap shining beautifully even in the dim light of the storage closet.

he stands back up, holding the rosin between his fingers delicately. “never better.”

“you’re—... you’re gonna give me your cimc prize rosin?” you ask, incredibly confused. “why would you do that?”

“because you need it. don’t you?” he answers with a shrug.

“but... but—.” you protest, head spinning a million miles a minute trying to make sense of hao’s bizarre and uncharacteristic display of benevolence. “what’s the catch?”

with no discernible inflection, hao repeats, “the catch.”

“i don’t see why you’d give this to me without a price,” you elaborate skeptically. “you don’t like me. you’re actively mean to me actually. it doesn’t make sense that you’d give me something you value without asking for anything in return. i mean, you couldn’t even randomly choose to cover for me during rehearsal without demanding a thank you after.”

hao considers this for a moment and then nods. “well, what if i ask for the same thing then? in exchange for this rosin, i want a thank you.”

“i can’t even begin to figure out what’s gotten into you today,” you respond with a reluctant sigh, “but fine. i guess i can agree to your terms.”

“we have a deal,” hao affirms with a stupid, perfect smirk. he closes the gap between you, holding out the rosin in his palm. when you try to take it from him, he retracts his hand. “i’ll take the thank you first actually.”

“sure,” you agree with a sigh, rolling your eyes. “thank you.”

he tilts his head to the side, prompting, “what was that?”

“thank you, hao. i really appreciate you giving me your rosin,” you feed flatly, hoping you’ve finally appeased him.

“an improvement,” he says before shaking his head again. “but i’m still not loving the tone coming out of you... maybe your bow needs some rosin.”

“you already know it does! what are you even talking—,” you start to ask, but it’s already too late. without any time to spare, the door is shut behind you and two long, thin fingers are pushed inside of your mouth. 

“there you go,” hao smiles, incredibly satisfied with the stunt he’s just pulled. “a thorough coat to get that perfect sound.”

he cups your jaw with his free hand as he shoves his fingers further into your mouth. you gag slightly as he approaches the back of your throat, your cheeks turning beet red at the violation of your body. 

“an instrument should be well cared for,” hao says as he removes his fingers from your lips, unbuttoning your jeans as he guides you to sit down in a black music chair. “gonna make you sound so pretty.”

there’s a flutter in your core that you desperately want to silence. you could not be turned on by this. one of the men you hate most in this world just shoved his fingers down your throat without asking. so why is the hungry look in his eyes as he sinks down between your legs exciting you?

hao hooks his fingers around the waistband of your jeans, tugging at them until you finally lift your hips up wordlessly. he discards your underwear next, chuckling sardonically at your continued state of silence.

his lubricated fingers ghost over you, leaving a trail of your own saliva up and down your sex. the sensation makes you gasp and then immediately cover your mouth in shame. were you really enjoying this?

“hm, still an airy sound,” hao observes, eyes locked on your center as his free hand grips your thigh— fingers digging into the soft flesh. “definitely needs more rosin.”

hao pulls your hips closer to him, taking you into his mouth— swirling and sucking at your heat with his tongue. you must’ve fallen into another dimension. fainted. been in a terrible bus accident on your way to campus. but why you’d dream of hao’s head between your thighs in a storage closet is beyond your comprehension.

the more he works you with his mouth, the more hums and sighs escape your lips.

“hao,” you beg, pleasure building as your right hand tangles up in his hair— tugging from the root. “feels so good. so, so good.”

“fuck, that’s beautiful baby,” hao pants, right hand detaching from your hip. “maybe you can even learn something from how i’m playing you. everyone would appreciate that, huh?”

the patronizing insult makes you throb, another whimper falling out of you. he watches you intently, mouth open slightly as he drinks in the sight of you writhing in pleasure. “c’mon, baby. let me hear you.”

with every rhythmic stroke, your sounds grow less inhibited and hao grows more entranced. he’s making the face he usually makes while playing his violin— focused, impassioned, and devastatingly sexy. 

was hao enjoying playing you as much as he enjoyed playing his other instrument?

“gon—... gonna make me cum,” you whine after another minute, the look in hao’s eyes turning feral. he immediately returns his mouth to you, sucking at your most sensitive part with a renewed vigor.

as hao brings you closer to the brink of orgasm, your moans only grow louder and sweeter like a crescendo. the harmonic sounds coming out of you are intensified by an increase in the pace of hand. it’s all too much for you to handle, your core beginning to spasm.

“oh my god, hao—,” you cry, your climax crashing over you like the perfect wave. “c-cumming... i—...”

hao pulls out the cake of rosin from his back pocket as he works you through your high, bringing it between your legs and covering it in your release. your breathing slowly returning to normal,he runs the sticky rosin down each of your inner thighs. 

“it’s... it’s gonna melt,” you say softly, both hypnotized and concerned. “the r-ros—.”

“rosin starts to crumble from heat at 50 degrees celsius,” hao interjects as he coats the rosin in more of your fluids. “your body temperature is 37 degrees.”

“but—.”

“don’t act like you don’t know how numbers work. aren’t you in calc iii?” hao baits, licking up the last remnants of your orgasm for himself. “are you just a fraud in every subject you take?”

his eyes lock with yours as he stands up and brushes the dust off his knees. 

“th-thank... you,” is what comes out of you as you stare up at him, dumbfounded. “thank you.”

“yeah, sure,” hao replies dismissively. after making such a big deal about a thank you, it figures he’d pretend he never cared in the first place. “clean off that rosin and use it next week or i’ll tell professor ahn you stole it from me.”

“oh. okay,” you quietly agree, unable to control the awkward energy that’s now tying your tongue. “um. thanks... again.”

he just shrugs, walking over to the door and picking up his violin case. unlocking the door and pushing it open, he takes a few steps out the door before suddenly stopping in his tracks. he turns over his shoulder to look at you. “i almost forgot to ask...”

you gulp at the sight of the upturned corner of his lip in a smug grin.

“... was it better than jiwoong hyung?”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

#zb1 smut #zb1 #zb1 fics #zerobaseone #zerobaseone smut #zerobaseone fics #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone x reader #zb1 imagines #zerobaseone imagines #iwnfyshb #zhang hao #zhang hao smut #zhang hao fics #zhang hao imagines #zhang hao x reader #zb1 zhang hao #zb1 hao #hao smut #hao x reader #hao fics #hao imagines #kim jiwoong smut #jiwoong smut #seok matthew smut #hanbin smut #sung hanbin smut #zb1 hard hours #kim taerae smut #taerae smut

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for breaking up with my partner of four years who I live with?

sorry this is a long one but I don't want to leave stuff out and make it seem biased.

My partner (22F) and I (22F) have been together since senior year of high school, just before COVID hit, and have lived together for a bit over a year now.

It's her first time living outside her parents' house, and early on she was a really crappy housemate. I ended up nagging at her a lot and having to use gentle parenting techniques to get her to do basic housework and do her share of responsibilities. We had a fight around six months in, where I told her I felt like I had to parent her, and she understandably took it poorly. Since then, she's put in a lot more effort around the house in a way that felt less like it was a product of caring, and more like the product of fearing abandonment. I pointed this out to her, and she said that she was trying harder because she loved me and wanted me to be comfortable in our home, though she had made several offhand comments that she was always worried about pissing me off.

I've been clinically depressed for a long time, and one of the chief ways it's manifested is irritation and anger. It developed into a problem, and I started getting therapy/ medication. Often I would end up being pretty mean to her. I felt bad about it, but she would get on my nerves a lot. I get overwhelmed and overstimulated easily. She has unmedicated ADHD and often comes in and starts hyperactively info-dumping about her day without a greeting or anything, knowing I had just woken up (I work nights).

She stopped doing that only after months of me asking her to and enforcing that boundary. Sometimes I was hurtful about it, but when I was nice about it she tended to ignore me or "forget" I'd asked her to stop doing that.

The last six months she's been better about things, but the first six months of living together kinda killed my feelings for her. At first, I thought it was stress from school, work, and other things related to the house (bug infestations, things breaking constantly, standard Landlord Special bullshit). But more and more I found myself annoyed with her. I'd often make rude comments about her behavior out of frustration. When I tried to discuss things more maturely, she'd break down crying and panicking, and I'd reassure and comfort her afterward instead of getting to express my feelings. She'd rarely express hers, just start sobbing and apologizing and saying she'd change, which made me feel awful and like I couldn't express grievances to her.

I'd try to get some space from time to time, and she'd get extremely anxious and seek reassurance, which I'd give to her because I didn't want to start anything. I thought I'd come back around and find happiness with her again. She'd been extremely patient with me throughout the relationship, with my moodiness and temper. I'd tried changing that about myself, but I found that the only thing that ever seemed to help my moods was getting space from her.

In late 2023/Jan 2024 I ended up having to get a couple surgeries, and she was supportive and caring in a way not many people would be for their partners. She made time to take care of me while I was more or less disabled and gave me grace as I worked through the emotional aspects of my health issues.

During this time I started having feelings for her again, but within a week of recovering, I was back to feeling the same sense of vague irritation and resentment as before, even though her behavior had changed and she was objectively being an amazing partner.

I realized I wasn't happy in this relationship and felt tremendous pressure to be responsible for somebody who had fallen behind me in terms of emotional maturity. I couldn't discuss big issues with her without her breaking down and panicking, and I felt like I had to walk on eggshells because of it. I was hurtful to her because of it, and it wasn't fair to stay a relationship I was no longer emotionally invested in.

Before I left for work one day, she ended up pressuring me into talking about what was on my mind after I told her I didn't feel the time was right to discuss it. I told her how I felt and that a breakup seemed like the healthiest way forward for us. She shut down, started crying, panicking, saying that we could work it out and go to couples therapy, etc. By this point, I had kind of lost faith in her ever fulfilling any promises related to therapy. I had to leave for work and she wouldn't stop talking about it, so I ended up apologizing, taking it back, and saying we could work it out.

A busy week or two went by where I was noticeably less nice to her, hoping that when I tried to break up with her again she wouldn't get emotional whiplash from it coming seemingly out of nowhere. I wrote out what I wanted to say in a letter and told her that I had things to talk about, but put them in a letter so she'd have time to process it instead of shutting down. I told her this, as well, to give her something of a warning.

I asked her what she thought we talked about during that big argument, and she said she honestly couldn't remember. We then went to a concert where I got drunk to try and enjoy things (I did) but she couldn't have a good time due to worrying about our conversation. I gave her the letter two days later, left it for her in the morning to read and process while I was in class that day.

It understandably went poorly, and she blames me for being a shitty partner, for being mean, for ruining the concert which was the one thing that she had looked forward to us doing as partners, and for treating her like shit in the weeks leading up to the breakup, and has indirectly asked if I can stay elsewhere on the nights where we'd be sharing a bed. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Can you write about Eddie dad, like he buys his kid his first guitar? But he has to sell sweetheart to get it? But the reader gets sweetheart back with her engagement ring and then Eddie is like where is your ring???

Just an FYI the baby's name is Asher.

Eddie always knew his child would end up loving music, when you two found out you were expecting he started to play music to your bump as it grew, when your baby boy was finally here with you two Eddie was the only one who was able to make him fall asleep as he sung to him.

It's been years of singing to him, of playing the guitar with him that lead to Asher asking for his own guitar for his birthday. You and Eddie talked about it and decided that seven was old enough for him to start learning how to play.

Eddie was over the moon that his son wanted to play the guitar...he was also heartbroken knowing that you two couldn't afford a nice guitar for him just yet. You both agreed to pick up more hours at work and to save as much as possible in the next few months leading to Asher's birthday. He never wanted to have to pinch pennies now that Asher is old enough to notice slight changes that comes with having to save money.

It was a few weeks before Asher's birthday and he was so excited, all he can talk about was his rockstar themed birthday party. You were busy getting everything ready that you haven't had time yet to talk to Eddie about the guitar and Eddie took that to his advantage. One day you took Asher to the party supply store to pick out whatever he wanted and Eddie quickly went to the pawn shop.

It hurt his heart having to sell his sweetheart but it broke his being knowing that Asher wasn't on the path of getting a guitar with how much you've been able to save. You've cut back on everything. You saved as much as you possible could for the past few months and it wasn't enough. Eddie saw how much you were upset over knowing Asher probably wasn't getting a guitar anytime soon and as he thinks about you and his baby boy he knew he had to sell his sweetheart to make his sweethearts happy.

You got back to the house with bags full of party supplies and a very happy six year old. "Mama can I call grandpa! I want tell him bout the party theme!" You laugh feeling you heart swells hearing how excited your baby was and you allowed him to call his grandpa as you put away the party supplies to be used later. As you were putting things away you noticed your husband missing. Soon after noticing this Eddie walks through the door with the excuse of Dustin asking for help with the upcoming campaign. You shrug it off without thinking of anything.

When it's time to tuck Asher into bed he asks Eddie to play a song. You see Eddie tense up and stutter out an excuse of his throat hurting slightly. It takes Asher a little longer to fall asleep that night.

It's two days before Asher's birthday when you pull Eddie to the side to ask about the guitar. "I think we have just enough for a cheap guitar for him" you mutter when Eddie sighs, "Actually...." he mumbles and winces as your focus snaps towards him. "Actually?" You question making him nod. "Isoldsweetheart" he says as quickly as possible. You glare at him playfully, "Munson you know I can't understand you" you say playfully, he takes a deep breath and says it again. "I...I sold sweetheart" Your eyes widen and your breathing hitches. "YOU WHAT?!?!" You nearly scream as he covers your mouth, "Baby don't yell you'll wake Ash" you nod and he uncovers your mouth and sighs again.

"I sold sweetheart. I don't want to give him a shitty guitar for his first one and I can always get a cheap one later to replace her." He tries to justify his actions as you shake your head, "Baby you love that guitar" He shrugs, "I sold it. That's the end of that but I want to get him a true guitar. One that he'll grow up with." All you can do is nod knowing there is no point in arguing.

Eddie was in charge of getting the guitar, you knew nothing about them so he went to his work and got what he deemed worthy enough for his baby. While he was getting the guitar you dropped Asher off at Wayne's to go get sweetheart back. You can tell Eddie is upset with the lost and so is Asher even if he doesn't know that sweetheart is actually gone just yet. You found out where Eddie sold the guitar at and went over with the only expensive thing you owned...your engagement ring.

Today Asher woke up with so much knowing that today was his party. You were in such a rush that you forgot all about sweetheart and your ring. While you were setting up the tables Eddie was setting up all the presents for Asher to be open later in the day. He looked over at you and smiled seeing you talking to Asher trying to lay out the table cloth. He goes over to you two so he can help you out but then something makes him stop in his tracks. "Where is your ring?" Hearing his voice makes you stop in your tracks. "Baby. Where is your ring??" You can hear the confusing and the panic in his voice, you turn to see him and you swallow the lump in your throat before trying to explain yourself.

"Well I...I got sweetheart back..." You mutter making his eyes widen. "You did not sell your ring. You loved that ring!" You nod trying to calm him, "I did but baby I told you before I don't need a ring! I always just wanted our matching bands" He shakes his head but before he can argue back everyone shows up for the party. "We aren't done talking about this." He says before going to greet everyone.

The party is coming to an end when it's time for Asher to open his big present. Seeing his eyes light up and hearing his shouts of excitement made it all worth it. What made it even more worth it was seeing him and Eddie play their guitar together.

A few months later when your birthday came around you were surprised by your baby boy playing one of your favorite songs on his new guitar, and by your other baby giving you a new engagement ring that he made you promise to never get rid of.

Tagging: @emmyshortcake @bloodthirstybreedingbunny @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @thefreak0fhawkinshigh @lofaewrites

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things #stranger things x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagines #dad eddie munson #husband eddie #dad!eddie #Husband!eddie #eddie imagines

[munson-blurbs]

I see you are taking requests. I love Eddie munson x reader angst. So maybe one where Eddie's band is doing well and he goes on a small tour and he attracts the unwanted attention of a stalker. She is so obsessed with him she moves to Hawkins and that is when she finds out that he has a fiance (the reader). The stalker than becomes obsessed with making the readers life a living hell. Death threats and all that bad stuff. Until the stalker hurts her one day. Make it as angsty as you want. If you can't do it, then please just ignore. Only if you are comfortable with it. Thanks 😊

Warnings: stalking, lots of violence, blood, knives, language, allusions to sex

WC: 3.7k

A/N: This is by far the creepiest thing I've ever written. Please let me know what you think. Your feedback really keeps me motivated.

"Oh, Eddie," Gareth says in a sing-song voice, peering out at their growing audience from behind the stage, "guess who's he-ere!"

"Oh, God," Eddie mutters as he tunes his guitar.

Puzzled, you look from him to Gareth for an answer, but when no one offers one, you ask, "Who's here?"

"Sorry to break it to you, Y/N," Jeff's voice is teasing, dripping sarcasm, "but Eddie's got himself a secret girlfriend."

"Eddie Munson!" you joke, feigning anger. "And here I am, trying to plan our wedding while you're collecting groupies on tour."

Your fiancé smiles at you wickedly. "Figured we could have a threesome or somethin.'" You give him a playful shove as he leans in to kiss your cheek. "Nah, babe. She's just a fan. Harmless."

"Just a fan?" Gareth sputters, throwing his head back with laughter. "Dude, she basically stalks you after each gig, trying to buy you drinks. One time, we found her waiting outside next to Eddie's van. I don't even know how she knew which one it was."

Worry rises inside of you. "Eds, be careful. Some of these girls can get a little unhinged."

Eddie's noticeably less concerned. "Don't worry. I'm gonna bring you out on stage tonight and introduce everyone to my beautiful almost-wife." He slings an arm around your waist. "Hopefully she'll get the hint."

~

Watching Eddie perform was an ethereal experience. Sure, you'd heard him rehearsing in the apartment you shared, but seeing him on stage was something else. He just exuded passion for music and connected with his audience. Maybe he connected with them a little too much, considering the situation with that girl, but she was far from your mind as you watched his fingers glide across his guitar. Eddie was born for this.

Corroded Coffin was in the middle of a six-week tour of different venues across Indiana. You weren't able to go to all of them without missing work, but when shows were close enough to home, you made the effort to be there.

They were wrapping up their set, with just the encore left, when Eddie spoke into the mic. "Thank you all for being here with us tonight. We hope we were able to rock your fuckin' worlds!" He's met with a chorus of cheers, widening the grin on his face. "I wanna introduce you all to someone incredibly special to me, who inspires all of the love songs I write." He waves you over and you bound across the stage into his open arms, beaming.

"This is my beautiful fiancée, Y/N. And see this?" He takes your hand and turns it so your diamond ring faces the audience. "Because of fans like you coming to see us, I was able to put this rock on her finger!" He plants a kiss on your lips with an exaggerated mwah! as the audience awws. It's hard to see individual faces, but everyone seems to be smiling. Everyone except for one woman.

She's in the front row, arms crossed over her body. She's in a tight red dress that lands just under her thighs. Her long blonde hair frames her scowling face and she's biting her lower lip as though she's trying to hold back tears.

That must be her, you think. That must be Eddie's "girlfriend." But you can't focus on her for too long, because Eddie grabs a chair for you to sit on while the band plays their encore. You're too enamored with Eddie and his performance to notice the pair of eyes that bore a hole in your head.

~

After the concert, you join the boys in their hotel room for pizza and snacks.

"You guys killed it!" you say as you take a cheesy slice. "The perfect combo of originals and covers. You had them in the palms of your hands!"

Jeff nods, his mouth full. "Thanks! Had a good crowd tonight, too."

"Hey, Y/N," Gareth teases, "didja see Eddie's girlfriend?" Eddie smacks the back of his head.

You laugh. "The blonde who looked like she wanted to murder me?"

"That's the one!"

Eddie puts his arm around you, sending tingles through your body. "Well, let's see if she shows up to our gig tomorrow. See if my good luck charm did the trick."

"Or, you know," you look up at him with puppy-dog eyes, "we could always try for that threesome."

~

You drive home the next morning after staying with Eddie. He normally shared the room with the rest of the band, but he'd rented an extra room so you two could...catch up. You didn't want to leave, but you also need to get to work. You spent the morning nestled into his arms while he kissed all over your face until the bedside clock warned that you had to go.

"Let me know if she shows up and you need me to kick her ass," you whisper into his lips as you say good-bye.

"Calm down, Muhammad Ali," Eddie kisses you against your car, cupping your cheek as he presses his plump lips to yours. "I'll be fine."

You reminisce about last night with your beautiful, wonderful fiancé until you arrive at work. You're so focused on the thought of him running his fingers over your body like his strums his guitar to notice the green sedan that's been following you since you left the hotel.

~

It's dark out by the time you leave work. You make your way to your car and unlock the driver's side door when you spot a piece of paper tucked under your windshield wipers. It's ripped carelessly from a spiral-bound notebook. You unfold it and gasp. Written on it in black ink are two words:

Die, Bitch

This has to be some kind of joke. Someone messing with you. Who would be unhinged enough to seriously threaten your life?

And then you remember. The girl at Eddie's show.

Your blood runs cold. The clock reads 9:07 PM, which means Corroded Coffin is on right now. You can't even call him.

"Fuck!" you yell to no one in particular. You look around and don't see anyone. Okay, you can do this. You just have to get home, lock yourself in your apartment, and wait until 10:30 when their set usually ends. Yeah, you'll just call the venue and ask to speak to Eddie, and he'll come right home. Perfect.

You turn on the car and take deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. You've only gone down the road before the low tire pressure light illuminates your dashboard. This always happens in the fall when the weather gets cooler, and you make a mental note to fill up your tires tomorrow.

A few blocks later, you hear a clunk coming from the front of your car.

"Oh, come on!" you groan, slamming your fists onto the steering wheel. You pull over and get out of your car to inspect your tires. Sure enough, the front right tire is completely flat. That never happens; you can at least make it back from work and to the gas station before they run out of air. But then you notice that the front left tire is dangerously low, too. And so are the the two back ones.

Did she...did she slash your tires?

You run the last mile home faster than you've ever run before, hair flying behind you. The night is chilly, but you're drenched in sweat from the sprint and the fear coursing through your blood. Blisters form on your feet but you push through the pain.

The lights coming from your apartment building have never looked so beautiful. It's a place where the plumbing backed up and the elevators were out of service more than they worked, but right now, it's the best thing you've ever seen. You dash up the stairwell, grateful that your place is only on the second floor. Your weary legs are nearly collapse under you as you turn your key in the lock.

"Hi, neighbor."

You spin around and see her, leaned up against the door of the apartment across from yours. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, and she's traded her dress for an inconspicuous sweater and pair of jeans, but it's definitely her. A sinister smile creeps across her face.

"Did you see the gift I left you?" she asks, walking toward you. "Or did it fall flat?" She cackles at her joke while you stay frozen, both fight and flight failing you.

"W-why are you doing this to me?" you finally manage. "What did I do to you?"

She narrows her brown eyes. "I show up to Eddie's shows. Every. Single. One." she spits venomously. "And you show up last night, act like you're fucking gracing us with your presence, showing off a ring that shouldn't even belong to you.

"Do you know what Eddie needs? Who he needs? He needs someone who supports him all the time, not just when it's convenient for her. He's gonna be famous one day, and when he realizes how many girls would do anything for him, he'll leave you in the dust where you belong," she sneers.

"Unfortunately, I don't have that kind of patience," she says calmly as she reaches into her pants pocket, pulling out a small pocketknife. "So here's what's gonna happen. You're going to end things with Eddie, or I'll slice your throat open and go back home like nothing ever happened." She gestures across the hall.

"You...live here?" you ask incredulously.

"Just moved in," she announces proudly, "but I've been keeping an eye on this building for vacancies since I first saw Corroded Coffin play. Y'know, Eddie shouldn't have his address listed in the WhitePages now that they're really taking off." She says this like she's helping, like she isn't threatening your life.

"Eddie's playing a gig right now," you say, though you're almost positive that she already knows this, "but he calls me every night after his show. I-I'll do it then."

She offers that evil smile again. "Perfect. Gives us time to rehearse what you'll say. And if you go off-script..." she presses the blade to your neck and cackles. "Now, open the door."

~

The phone rings at 10:40, and you snatch it from the receiver with breathtaking speed.

"H-Hello?" You feel the knife against your throat as she leans into hear what Eddie's saying to you.

"Hey, babe! Guess what?" You feel his excited energy through the phone and hope he can pick up on your terror. "She didn't show up. Looks like our plan worked!"

"T-that's great, Eds," you choke out, wincing as she overhears the conversation. She tilts your chin so that your eyes meet hers, and you watch her mouth, Say it. "But I'm breaking up with you."

"Haha, very funny," he says, and your heart sinks as you realize he's completely oblivious.

"No, I'm serious. You deserve better than me. And," you swallow thickly, "and I've been cheating on you."

There's silence on the other end of the line. You think he might've hung up until he exhales loudly and asks, "With who?"

"Doesn't matter," you repeat the lines she's fed you. "There's been more than one guy."

"Why are you telling me this now, Y/N?" His voice warbles, and your heart breaks knowing you're making him cry.

"I'm sorry," you respond, feeling tears well up in your own eyes, "but I don't love you anymore." And you hang up and burst into tears.

"There, there," she runs a cold hand through your hair, fingers catching on the knots that formed throughout the day. She tears through them, sending jolts of pain into your scalp. "You did the right thing, Y/N."

"Please, just leave me alone," you choke out. "I did what you asked."

She shakes her head. "You're not dumb, so I don't know why you're acting like you are." She grabs your elbow with her free hand and stands you up. "Go and pack your things. All your things. You're leaving tonight." You hesitate for a second and she raises the blade to your neck again. "I said GO!"

You shuffle into the room, still sobbing. You fling open a suitcase and start shoving clothes in haphazardly. She's next to you the whole time, watching your every move. After 30 minutes, you've packed as many belongings as you can into various pieces of luggage and piled them at the entryway.

"Now, one last thing," she says in an eerily soft voice. She takes your left hand, plucks off your engagement ring, and slides it on her own finger. She holds up her hand as the diamond catches the light. "Fits like a glove. Like it was meant to be."

You're about to throw up when there's a knock at the door. It can't be Eddie; his show was two hours from here.

"Who the fuck is that?" she hisses. She ticks the blade upwards and you feel the skin break slightly.

"I-I don't know," you answer truthfully. "I'll answer it and tell them to leave, okay?"

"Don't try anything, or that cut will be a lot deeper," she threatens.

You open the door slowly, just a crack, and see Jim Hopper standing in front of you.

"Y/N, Eddie just called me, said to get over here. Said something's wrong," he whispers. You see his eyes meet the trickle of blood creeping down your neck.

Help me, you mouth, and then quickly say, "I'm not interested in supporting the Hawkins PD." You close the door and pray that he got the message.

"Open this door!" he bellows. “Open the door, or I’ll break it down!”

The girl grabs your hair tight in her fist. “Did you call the police, you bitch?” Saliva gathers at the corners of her lips.

“N-no,” you cry, “Eddie must’ve called them after I hung up. I swear.”

She turns her attention back to the door to address the chief of police, never easing her grip on your locks. “You break down this door and you’ll find her in a pool of her own blood!” 

You vaguely hear Hopper calling for backup through the pounding in your ears. I’m going to die, you think. I’m going to die right here in my home, where Eddie and I were supposed to start a family. She’s going to take it all away from me.

“It really is a shame it had to come to this,” she mumbles. “I’d hoped Eddie would see me at his shows and make me his. I dressed so he’d notice me, and apparently, he did.” She pauses for a moment, contemplating. “I bet it was you who told him to watch out for me. Because you know I’m a threat. You know I could steal him from you, and that terrifies you, doesn’t it?” She’s proud of herself, feeding her own ego.

You’re unsure whether it’s better to agree or argue, and you ultimately decide to say nothing. There isn’t anything that can help you now.

Another heavy knock on the door startles you from your thoughts. “Hawkins PD! Release the hostage, or we’re calling in the crisis team.” It’s not Hopper, but a different male officer, though you’re sure he’s still there.

She’s laughing now, and you only see pure malice in her eyes. “Fuck off,” she says, too quietly for them to hear. It’s meant for you.

The cop calls out twice more, and you hear him say something to the chief, though you can’t make out what it is.

“If you let her go, we can just take you down to the station. We don’t have to get anyone else involved,” Hopper tells her. “We don’t have to make this bigger than it needs to be.” 

The girl bites down hard on her lower lip, drawing blood. “You see what you do? You couldn’t just leave Eddie alone, could you? This all could have been avoided if you weren’t so selfish.” Her hand still in your hair, she drags you over to the bedroom. Strands tear from your scalp. “There. Much quieter in here.”

She throws you on the floor, where you land with a smack. Your head hits the bed frame before you can get your hands out in front of you, and you yelp. A curtain of red falls over your left eye.

“Clumsy bitch,” she grumbles, pacing in front of the door. 

She has to get tired eventually, you think. Just gotta wait it out.

She’s babbling on about her future with Eddie, what their wedding will look like, how adorable their children will be. That and the lightheadedness from losing blood is enough to make you sick. You feel the bile rising in your throat, but it stops when you spot something shiny underneath the bed.

Eddie’s handcuffs.

He used to just wear them as an accessory, but they’d been put to...other uses since you two had gotten together. They must’ve gotten kicked under the bed after you’d last used them.

A plan formulates in your head, though it’s hard to straighten your racing thoughts.

Wait until she’s sleeping...cuff her...run like hell.

You repeat the steps silently memorizing them as you did the lines to break up with Eddie. 

Your clock shows that it’s just past midnight when you hear his voice. 

“Y/N! Where is she?” he shouts at the officers, though you can’t make out their responses.

“Let her go!” he screams, fists hammering the door. “Just let her go!”

You’re trembling, desperate to be out of this room, to be held in his arms, to be away from the crazy woman who’s hell-bent on destroying you.

“Aw, your knight in shining armor showed up,” she taunts you now. “Wonder what he’ll think of my new ring. Think he’ll like it?” When you say nothing, she takes a sneakered foot and kicks you in the stomach. You curl up, shielding yourself from another blow. “I said, do you think he’ll like it.”

“Y-yes,” you say between clenched teeth. “I think he’ll love it.” You crane your neck slightly so you’re looking right at her. “What are you gonna do to me once you get him?” you ask softly, afraid for her answer.

“I’m gonna kill you,” she replies simply, as though it’s an ordinary response. “I’m gonna kill you and make him watch. Show him what happens when he makes the wrong choice, so he doesn’t do it again.” She flicks her knife and you shudder, but you don’t miss the yawn that escapes her mouth.

Keep her talking, you think hazily, but don’t talk too much. Don’t give yourself away.

“What made you go for Eddie?” you ask. “Why him?”

“We’re soulmates. I just...feel it.” Her eyes dance as she talks about him, the way he shows off for her on stage, the songs he writes that she knows have to be about her. She goes on and on, and the only thought keeping your stomach from souring completely is that she’s wearing herself out.

Hours pass, and the sun is starting to rise before her eyelids flutter as she lays against the bedroom door. The pinkish streaks streams through the blinds and you know it’s only a matter of moments before the bright light wakes her fully. You listen to her soft snores as you slowly reach for the cuffs, allowing yourself a tiny smile, a small moment of joy, as you grasp the metal between your weak fingers.

You snap one around her left wrist. You have to work fast but gently, strategically, to get the other around the doorknob. It won’t hold her back for long, but hopefully just long enough that you can get to safety.

As the second cuff clicks closed, her eyes snap open. “W-wha--” she starts, and you yank the door open and fly through the living room.

"I’m here I’m here it’s me!” you cry out, flinging yourself into the first person you see. That person happens to be Chief Hopper, who brings his gun down to his side to envelop you in his arms. You feel him breathe a sigh of relief, tension leaving his body.

“We’ve got you,” he murmurs. Someone throws a blanket over your shoulders and guides you towards an EMT. A swarm of uniformed officers, maybe a SWAT team, rushes into the apartment to arrest your assailant.

“Oh my god,” you hear Eddie breathe, making his way through the crowd of people until he reaches you. “Baby, I am so sorry.”

“‘S not your fault,” you sob into his chest, crumbling to the ground and taking him with you. 

“Yes, it is,” he’s crying now, too, “I paraded you out on stage, showed you off, instead of just going to the cops in the first place.” He takes your hands in his, a puzzled look crossing his face when he can’t feel your ring.

“She took it,” you tell him numbly. “She’s wearing it right now.”

“I’ll get you a new one,” he promises, but you shake your head.

“Don’t care about that,” you heave, trying to catch your breath but finding it impossible. And then the world goes black.

~

You wake up in a hospital bed, machines whirring and beeping around you. You stir and almost immediately feel a hand on your arm.

“Y/N? You awake?” Eddie’s voice floats past you, music to your ears. You smile as a headache pulses through your temples. You touch your forehead gingerly to find a bandage covering the wound you acquired last night.

“I’m awake, Eds,” you croak.

“Oh, thank god,” he leans in to kiss you, laying a hand on your stomach, but he pulls back as soon as he notices your grimace.

“She...she kicked me there,” you explain, and his face falls.

“Fuck,” he whispers. His voice shakes and his hands tremble.

“Where is she?” Dread flows through you as you realize she could’ve escaped, could still be out there, waiting for you.

“Locked up, no bail,” his doe eyes meet yours. “She won’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore,” he promises.

Your tears are those of joy, and he holds you close, letting you cry. You’re staining his shirt but neither of you care.

“It’s over, sweetheart,” he promises. “You’re safe.”

Safe. 

A word, a feeling, a state of being you’ll never take for granted again.

--

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #fanfic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #requests

[tealfloyd]

LOOKING GREAT IN A DAY OF HAVOC

“If MC’s going to die, at least she would do it with style~”

SUMMARY: After a stressing week of homework, MC has to spend her free day with every dorm; to top it off, she drinks Grim’s unknown potion (Everyone x Fem!Reader).

WARNINGS: Death mentions but as a joke (?) There’s not really anything triggering, I think.

CONTENT: MC changes her dress everytime she enters a dorm. Wedding mentions in Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Scarabia and Diasomnia. Every outfit is inspired on the villain except Scarabia. WORDS: 6K+

A/N: I’m glad some of you actually liked this concept, I’m not really good describing dresses and anything regarding clothes if I’m being honest, but I tried my best.

Now onto the fic~

It's six in the morning and you already feel tired, groggily standing up to overcome the busy day you have ahead.

Last week you had to do a lot, and when I say a lot is a lot, of homework; so much that you had barely seen yourself in the mirror (Vil gasped at that because your hair was starting to look like a bird’s nest).

Because of that, the time you usually spent with your friends decreased greatly, the only interaction that you had with them being a quick greeting; and sometimes your overworked mind didn't process the 'hi, MC' they were pronouncing.

When you had free time to spend with them (mostly half an hour or less), they asked you if you wanted to participate in some of their activities. Absentmindedly, you agreed to it, scribbling down on your paper without actually knowing what you were saying yes to, only saying the day you would be free.

That day has come, and it’s stuffed to the brim with different events featuring every dorm.

It was a miracle that the hours didn't collide, and it’s not like you could cancel; you have seen how eager they were when you said yes, and you didn't want to disappoint them.

Once you showered you walked down the stairs, heading to the kitchen so you could get a boosting drink, not really thinking about taking breakfast when the first thing on the list was assisting to Heartslabyul's tea party.

You saw a glass of juice sitting on the top glass of the fridge, and you decided to give it a try, because what’s the worst that could happen?

It tasted bitter, and you frowned at the flavour, gagging while placing the now empty cup on the countertop, almost letting it drop when a yell came out of nowhere.

“Henchman! What are ya' doing!?” Grim hurried over to your side, recognizing the singular vase you were previously holding.

“Ah, drinking juice?” You sent him a confused look while washing the cup. “You made it? You could have added more sugar to it...”

“That wasn't juice MC!” Now you’re confused.

“What—?”

“That was my credit potion for Crewel's class!”

Oh, oh.

You dropped the cup in horror and shock, being at a loss of words.

“Why the hell would you put an unknown potion in the fridge!?” You started to drink water, hoping that would ease the effects of whatever you just drank.

“I suppose I may have forgot to take it out... But that doesn't matter! Now I don't have anything to present!” You stood there, ominously glaring at him. Grim really has to be grateful that looks can't kill.

“Grim, what was the potion for?” Your tone causes him to have shivers down his spine,

having a murderous aura along with piercing and threatening eyes.

“Ah, well, I... Really don't know...” He muttered the last part, but it was still heard by you, only increasing your rage.

“You don't know!?” You calmed yourself down after seeing Grim at the verge of tears, taking deep breaths. “Okay, if it's for a Crewel's class it can't be poison, but you made it so that means... It can be poison."

You started to walk towards the front door, turning your head at him before exiting through it. “We will deal with this later, that is if I'm not dead. For the meantime, I expect this place to be completely clean when I come back."

Certainly, it's the greatest day of your whole life, and probably your last.

HEARTSLABYUL’S FORMAL GUEST

A ball gown. Hollow to floor with large, black sleeves. Uncovered shoulders blades lead to puffy forearms, made with a very soft material. It had a smooth lace tracing the neckline, and also a corset, which was perfectly adjusted. The wide skirt was the main attraction, waving at the minimum movement. The colours resembled those of Heartslabyul; the red, black and white harmonizing beautifully, looking like a dress a Queen would wear. A royal bun, loose but not enough that it would look messy. A few strands of hair were placed on both sides of your hair, topping it with a small crown.

Heartslabyul was trying something new. A breakfast tea party, clearly following the strict rules so that it would be a meeting worth of the Queen of Hearts; and you, obviously.

Ace and Deuce pestered asked you for the whole week, insisting that you should come and even giving you a fancy invitation with Riddle’s neat handwriting on it, stating: “You are formally invited to partake in the Breakfast's Tea Party of Heartslabyul, the next Saturday at 8:00AM."

The duo had barely seen you the whole weekend, and they were with you in the same classes, so imagine the time you spent with the others.

They saw the chance of talking to you in the lunch, thing you were doing outside of the cafeteria so you could get more work done in peace. Not that you can really be in peace when being friends of these two dorks, who whined about you not loving them anymore.

You chuckled at the setup, and you asked what they wanted. A couple of seconds after the question, Ace shoved the letter on your face, telling you the contents before you even read it.

You said yes, it wasn't like you could refuse anyways, and some Trey's goods would cheer you up after so much work.

At your agreement they swore they could cry from excitement.

Got to say that when you passed through the portal, you didn't expect a wear such a fancy dress out of nowhere as the result of Grim's potion.

Riddle is so red you start to think he's sick. It's like he created a whole new shade when he saw you approaching the table, registering seconds later that you weren't wearing your usual clothes. After that, he's a complete mess. He is trying his best to not stutter or flinch whenever you try to engage a conversation, finding the tablecloth more interesting not really, but he doesn't want you to laugh at him because of his state. He also feels a bit conflicted, since the gown reminds him of his mother; his not so happy memories cross his mind, until, by accident, he sees you smiling at him. And his mind wanders to the thought of you using a wedding dress, and at that moment he realises he spilled his tea (which was thankfully warm) on his hand.

Trey is acting like his normal self. He actually seemed to be the only one who wasn't freaking out, but don't be mistaken; if you inspect his face, you can see a slight blush and a loving gaze directed at you. We can say that out of the five boys, he is the one more capable of holding a regular conversation, after all, he’s Heartslabyul mediator. He is even bold enough to lightly tease you about wearing such a formal attire to a tea party, yet he loves that you showed up like this, thinking that you planned it when we both know that wasn't the case.

Cater is taking pictures so fast that his phone can't register them all. His storage is suffering from the number of selfies and photos he has of you, just from today. But can you blame him? He wants to preserve this moment, only posting a few ones so everyone can see how amazing you are. He would probably, probably delete them from his Magicam if you asked, but there is no way he would delete all of the other ones. How can he erase such precious memories? He would have to be insane to do that!

Ace is that kindergarten kid who has a crush on you. We all know that, yes, but it can't be ignored. Actually, he can't be ignored, since he's messing with your bun and your crown, even putting in on himself. He only stops when you get too annoyed or when Riddle scolds him. Don't have too much faith though, there's no way to stop him; he's a force of nature, the force that wouldn't stop until you pay him attention.

Deuce stops functioning. His brain cells are working so hard to try to maintain a normal interaction with you, but eventually they just give up, leading you to snap your fingers in order to get a reaction. He can't believe he lived long enough to see this part of you, and curiously, he has the same train of thought as Riddle; your dress could be a wedding dress, it just needs to be painted white- And, he’s out.

When you realised what you were wearing, you let out a huge sigh of relief, thinking that this were the effects of the potion and not a horrible death, so at least you get to live another day in this twisted wonderland.

You didn't really care about the dress. Sure, you thought it was beautiful, but it was just a dress, right?

No, it’s not just a dress.

You wondered if the potion had a different effect when suddenly everyone got quiet, and then, boom, five flustered boys at your service.

You couldn't explain the situation because some of them were too busy surrounding you or stop functioning, so you told them what happened around an hour later when they calmed down.

In general, we have four boys who're blushing so hard it rivals Riddle's hair, and one boy who doesn't make it that obvious.

Overall, pretty great experience, you got to eat good food and it was a pretty interesting sight.

SAVANACLAW’S NEW APPRENTICE

A large, sheath dress. Ruffles adorned the hem while the shades transitioned towards the waist, where a lace was tied up, matching the initial colours and patterns, making it a subtle but elegant detail. It was of a soft yellow with some gold motifs, which you thought resembled the Afterglow Savannah, were spread all-over, giving light to a majestic dress. Two braids, which interlaced to create the illusion of a crown; speaking of it, you also had some light, golden feathers tightly adjusted so they wouldn't fall off, the main ornament being a crown with a rose gold jewel.

You complained to Jack one day after a Spelldrive practice in Vargas class, saying that you wished you could be better at it so the others would stop laughing at you, clearly meaning it as a joke.

Well, Jack took it seriously. He went to Leona and asked if you could be part of the Spelldrive training one day, and the lion actually thought about it, thinking about how he hadn't seen you the whole week, so spending some time with you would be nice.

Jack came to you when you were walking to your dorm, being extremely careful because you were holding a huge stack of books, necessary for your notes.

He immediately retrieved the majority of them from you, taking this chance at talking to you to ask if you wanted to join the Spelldrive training at Savannaclaw one day.

You said yes, saying that you could do it the next Saturday, though you had to admit you were confused at the sudden request, and you must have made a frown because Jack told you what you said before.

You laugh at his thoughtfulness, lightly teasing him about it, and he just shrugs it off, with red ears and a happy, waging tail.

And now you are wondering if you should cancel it because how the hell are you going to practice with such a dress?

Leona's first thought when he saw you was that he passed out while sleeping. He took a short nap while waiting for you to arrive, opening his eyes when he heard your greeting, about to affectionately grumble. Instead, he was found staring at you, cheeks starting to become red when realising the kind of accessory you were wearing. He doesn't really focus on the dress, but on your hair, the style and the crown normally used by brides in his home place. He snaps from his trance fairly quickly, and the only thing that gives him away is his faint blush and the way he avoids looking at you for too long, almost telling you that you look on it, but it turns into a teasing comment. Well, it's the thought what counts.

Ruggie dropped his shopping bags, too stunned to take into account that he had eggs there. He went to Sam's earlier that morning, since he had some discounts, smiling to himself at the cheap shopping session, before he heard you calling him. He didn't look at you at first, but when he did, holy mother of Pearl... The rustling of the bag and the crashing of the eggs colliding with the floor was all the sound he processed. He also knows about the hairstyle and the ornament, blushing deeper when you ask him if he's okay. He laughs in embarrassment while answering that he is fine as fine as someone with a huge crush on you can be.

Jack is trying so hard to not be flustered. And if he didn't have a tail it would've worked, because its speed could rival that of Sonic the opm one or the Sega one, take your pick. Because he’s a runner, he has great control over his heart rate, so he can actually talk to you and be calm, or at least for him it seems like it. He doesn't know about the hairstyle, but he does know about the eye-catching thing on your head. He told you that you looked great, also asking why you're wearing that when it was supposed to be a practice session, but he is not complaining.

You had to apologise and explain the reasoning of your clothes. You heard Leona grumble something about taking care of Grim, while Ruggie and Jack shook their heads in disappointment and disbelief.

Safe to say that you didn't make any major efforts while being there. They refused to let you practice in that dress, only doing basic stretching standing up and correcting your position. Other than that, nothing.

It's not that they didn't want you to practice with them, but if you dress was damaged during the process, dear Sevens, they wouldn't forgive themselves.

So, you passed the remaining hour in the bench, watching them as they explained the basics and doing short demonstrations, paying full attention as that was the only thing you could do.

Once the time was done, you bid them goodbye, thanking them for the help as you promised that the next time you would come back with better clothes.

The next time.

They can't help but think of the sight of you in a large, divine wedding dress, and Leona is contemplating the idea of getting you one.

OCTAVINELLE’S UNFORTUNATE TASTE-TESTER

A mermaid-shaped dress. A long skirt made its way to the floor, a silky and shiny fabric layering over it so it wouldn't look plain. It was mainly black, but it had a gradient shade of marine dark blue and purple in the top and the hem, contrasting greatly with the translucent, white scarf that was situated over your shoulders. Soft curls. The volume of your hair increased, outlining the sea-themed hair pins that were placed at one side, giving an elegant air to the look.

These guys were sly. They asked you when you were at the lounge, drinking a little bit more of Jade's tea as you kept writing, not noticing the thoughtful stare that Azul was sending you, nodding at the twins as they approached you.

Your workflow was disrupted when you heard Floyd's loud sigh, as well as Jade's, and you raised an eyebrow at the sudden action.

They both complained very loudly that you were forgetting them, Floyd literally draping over you as crocodile tears invaded his eyes.

You sighed too, telling them that you're sorry so they would drop the theatrics, asking what you can do to make it better, all while continuing typing, a difficult task when you have such a tall boy hugging you.

Azul coughs, and you shift your attention to him. He says that you can do them all a favour, and you're already expecting the worse the moment you see his mischievous smile, along with those of the twins.

He mentioned having some menu ideas, but he needed a loyal customer to try them out, obviously talking about you, and you had no other option than to accept, doing a small pout as you said the day.

Maybe you were supposed to die today either way.

Azul is ready to welcome you with his perfect smile (which he definitely practiced just for this situation), only for this façade to break when he saw you so... Elegant. He quickly tries to hide it, but there's no use when Jade and Floyd saw the whole thing, and he knows he would never hear the end of it after this. He acts all gentlemanly, but that's just because he tries to be prepared for every situation he could get flustered around you, and let's just say that is not working. He is capable of hold a normal conversation most of the time, so cooperate with him, he might even give you a free meal as payment.

Jade is staring, and you don't know how to feel about it. He knows how to hide his feelings better than Azul when it comes to you, so he doesn't really have anything that makes it obvious about his crush on you. He offers you his arm, asking about the reasoning of your really fancy attire, and his curiosity and interest just sparks when you told him what happened that morning. My, are you really that unaware of your surroundings? Then he supposes he has to stay with you for a few days to make sure you don't endanger yourself further.

Floyd doesn't even notice it at first. The one and only thing that Floyd makes when he sees you is making a bee line, running, towards you so he can tackle you into one of his affectionate squeezes. He's too busy cooing at you and being happy about you showing up that he fails to register the gorgeous gown you just appeared with. In all honesty, he doesn't care. I mean, sure, he thinks you look amazing on it, but he's interested by your personality and actions more. Yet this certainly serves as a boost for his attention, so I’m just going to say that you have to be prepared.

You mentally cursed at this dorm's design, because it was nearly impossible for you to escape in this dress, and before you could even think about trying it, you felt yourself being lifted several inches from the floor while hearing Floyd's happy noises.

You didn't even have to walk as he was carrying you the entire time, shifting to a bridal style when Jade told him that it wasn't very proper of him to carry you as if you were a sack of potatoes.

Azul stood next to you, making sure that the food was of your taste and that you seemed happy with it, trying to set you free from the taller twin's grasp, who utterly refused as he hugged you tighter.

It made the eating aspect more difficult, but your worries vanished when tasting the first plate; a delighted gasp leaving your lips as you continued eating, hearing a relieved exhale from Azul and a small giggle from Jade.

Most of the plates presented to you were pretty good, and you hummed contently when drinking a vase of water, checking the hour on your phone.

Oh no.

Excusing yourself, you managed to set free from Floyd's grasp, thanking them for the delicious food and stating which ones were your favourites, hurriedly leaving as if you were Cinderella when the clock strikes midnight.

Well, it wasn't midnight, but it was midday, and that meant that you had to soothe the clingy boy to let you, promising him that you would be with him the next day, and with that, you set you path towards Scarabia.

SCARABIA’S RECENT TRAINEE

A low riding red harem pants and a black off the shoulder top, connecting both garments with translucent stripes, which graded from black to red to make sure that it made sense. Everything was covered with golden chains with some intricate jewels, tinkling at the contact. The pants had a black fire design at the bottom, looking a lot like the original Scarabia uniforms. Low ponytail. It was held up by two golden bands, ending in a small swirl. The main accessory being a golden headband with a sapphire embellished to it.

Kalim was known for being happy most of the time. Most of the time. The poor boy thought you were mad at him when you barely paid him any attention in the span of that long, long week.

It went to the point in which he thought you would forgive him for whatever misdeed he had done by buying you anything that reminded him of you, and there was nothing that Jamil could do to stop him.

You visited Scarabia one day, Jamil's suggestion of helping you with some history questions had you walking there; you certainly didn’t expect to see what a surprise a huge stack of gifts, neatly piled up in the dorm's living room.

You had to reassure Kalim that you weren't mad at him, just overworked, and his face bright up once again, happily hugging you.

He told you that Jamil will be helping him with some dance moves, and the latter was forced to cover Kalim's mouth, but it was too late; the box had been opened, and so did your curiosity.

You accepted, telling them that you would be free the next day (aka, the infamous Saturday), much to Jamil's dismay. He exhaled, hiding his flushed face in his hoodie while thinking of the fact that you would practice with him.

Kalim is confused, but is a good type of confused; he doesn't know why you're using this outfit, in fact, he didn’t even realise that you weren’t using different clothes in the first place: he tends to have tunnel vision when he spots you, slowly dissipating after some seconds and that’s when he takes notice of the outfit, and then, he remains quiet. And that’s starting to worry you because is weird that Kalim isn’t talking about his excitement and being around you like a puppy. You went up to him and he stutters about how beautiful you look; sweet things you would expect from a boy like him. Though he has to ask where did you get the traditional headband that engaged woman use in his land.

You can’t even see Jamil’s face at first, his hoodie hiding his flushed face as soon as he saw you. That way he can actually talk to you, instead of being a literal rock, because he doesn’t want you to see him in such a state, with pink cheeks and a love-struck gaze. He does tell you that you look good, in a very… Jamil way; suddenly asking why you’re wearing that, muttering a: ‘It looks good on you’, regretting it almost immediately because now you’re asking him if you heard correctly. He cuts you off and says that you all have to start stretching, ears burning in embarrassment.

After explaining the story, you saw a completely worried Jamil, who scolds you about your reckless reasoning of drinking something that was obviously suspicious, all while Kalim is trying to calm him down.

You apologise while laughing, the fact that he’s concerned about you touches your heart and he stops at that, announcing that all of you had to stretch in order to maintain his composure.

The practice was fun; they taught you some of the traditional moves of the Scalding Sands and it was entertaining hearing all the jingles coming from your outfit, not noticing the mesmerizing stare that the boys were sending you.

You were there for approximately one hour, and that’s when you get a text from Vil.

You groaned, saving your phone, muttering a small: ‘Sorry, I have to go’.

Telling them you should do this other day, you left. When you did though, dear Kalim was starting to search similar clothes that he thought you would look great in, and surprisingly enough, Jamil didn’t stop him, curiosity getting the best out of him.

POMEFIORE’S UNEXPECTED MODEL

An A-line gown. This one was larger than the others, bringing along a long cape with it. The plan palette contrasting the golden glitter on the hem of the cape, a black and smooth surface that you could see through it, but just at the end. The main colours were a dark shade of purple for the dress and black for everything else, with some glances of gold in the accessories, but that was it. A loose braided crown, with a real one over it; the beautiful yet simple design being a delight to the eye, as well as the rubies adorning it.

Epel begged (and when I say he begged was that he was on his knees, looking like he was praying) for you to come with him at the modelling session that Vil will have for him.

You were there, baffled at this out of nowhere action, and in the heat of the moment (mostly to make the boy stand up) you agreed.

This time though, you couldn’t choose a date, because it was programmed from the start, so at least you’re thankful your mind didn’t mess up this one.

You haven’t had the experience of being with the Vil Schoenheit in a clothes trying affair, but it was definitely something that was worth trying, regardless if the experience itself was good or bad.

He thanked you, quickly standing up fixing his uniform so Vil wouldn’t scold him, unaware that Rook was hearing the conversation, animatedly walking towards his dorm leader so he could break the news to him.

When he heard this, he brainstormed ideas and even considered getting you a Pomefiore uniform, thinking of ways to convince you to use it.

Vil’s face betrays him as he shows his astounded expression. It seems like he underestimated your fashion choices, but he’s puzzled because, MC? Why use such an elegant gown when you’re going to a clothes trial? Once he understands what happened though, his faith on you faded a little bit, but don’t worry MC, he will make sure you know how to compliment your natural beauty. He’s inspecting the dress as you stand there, getting dizzy for all the turns he was making you do. Letting a hum of approval, he mentions something about buying you both matching outfits- Scratch that, he decided he would make them himself.

Rook is kneeling before you, literally. He always praises you for everything you do and everything you wear, and this isn’t the exception. He takes your hand so gently, afraid that you would be scared by his antics, but he smiles against the soft skin of your palm when you tilt your head, looking adorably confused. It didn’t last long as Vil retrieved you from his grasp, annoyed. He chuckled at that, thinking about how to take care that his Trickster didn’t accidentally poison herself.

Epel has his mouth shaped like a ‘o’. He’s the first to ask, very loudly may I add, why the hell are you wearing that, but like, more soft since he was talking to you. After the story time, he lets out a small apology after Vil chided about manners with guests, his agitation quickly becoming embarrassment as he actually takes a good look at the costume; he needs a couple minutes to recover from the sudden shock, so don’t be harsh on him, it’s just that he’s passing through a lot of mixed feelings right now.

The truth is that you didn’t get to try any clothes on during your whole stance in Pomefiore; mostly because Vil was too busy checking the entire thing and Rook was by your side, making his job more difficult. Epel, as I said, is perplexed; should he feel relieved because Vil is focusing on you, or should he be mad that Vil is focusing on you? He doesn’t know.

Vil, being Vil, found a few errors in your unplanned dress, bringing a notebook with him so he could write things that he wanted to apply on the designs of the new one, and you get to see him do one of his rare, pure smiles out of giddiness.

He also inspected your hair, and as he did that, Rook approached to tell you one and another time that you were beautiful; that no one in earth could rival your ethereal being and you were worried what Vil would have to say about that.

Nevertheless, he hummed in response, and you were ecstatic.

Poor Epel tried to make a casual chat, but he was so nervous that his accent slipped and he had to endure a few minutes of Vil’s scolding, quietly thanking you for being there as you distracted him with a detail on your cape, and once again his attention was on you.

When the time was over, your legs and feet were sore after all the standing, thankful for the next event as it meant that you would get to sit down for the next hour.

You excused yourself, and what a shame that you didn’t see the guys pout as you crossed the door, as they were absolutely gold.

IGNIHYDE’S GAMING ROUGH DIAMOND

A short dress. From the largest we pass to the shortest, just a little bit up the knees; a robe cape that had a skull pin on the left part attached to it covering most part of it so the length wasn’t noticeable. In the end it had a cloudy texture and it looked like a goddess garment, creating the illusion as if you were walking on air. Apart from that, all the set was black, with some blue flames on it, which alluded to Hades powers. A Dutch braid. This one was also similar to a crown, but it seemed much bigger, the strands that came out of it perking up, tinted of an enticing shade of blue.

Idia was sulking the whole week. Only because you didn’t have time to play with him and he had to face the villains completely alone, as he was reminded during a cut scene of your charming laughter when you lost; something he never really understood, but it was cute nonetheless.

Ortho tried to convince him into going to Ramshackle, but just when it seemed like he was actually going, he curled up into a ball in his bed and refused to move.

The younger Shroud knocked on your door one afternoon, giving you a quick greeting as he asked you if you could come to Idia’s gaming session the Saturday.

You couldn’t refuse to Ortho, so you happily complied, wondering if he already knew that that day was your free day.

Idia let out a high pitched scream at the news; he hoped that he wouldn’t make fun of himself while being with you, something that was only possible if you were next to him, for real.

Hades better help him out to not die of shame.

Idia passes out. The only reason he wasn’t hurt when he woke up was because you managed to catch him on time, resting his head on your lap. He opened his eyes a few minutes later, meeting your concerned ones as you asked him if he was okay, and his hair combusted into pink flames at the heart-warming sight. He has already done the only thing he feared the most: embarrassing himself in front of you. He stands up so fast because of the adrenaline, trying to overcome the mortifying scene by making a teasing comment about your dress, and he ends up redder after your sincere thanks. You’re going to be the death of him, maybe quite literally.

The reason the session took longer to start was because both you and Ortho were trying to get Idia back to his senses, as he passed from a living dead state to a pink candle.

Somehow he calmed down, only looking at his phone because if he saw you he was sure he would pass out again, sighing in defeat at the recent memory.

Even after the awkward situation, the playing went smooth. You were pretty good in this game, a RPG with some rhythm elements added to it, along with the OP cards that you gained while spending your goods at the gacha some weeks ago.

You needed more practice, but the talent was there, and just when you were getting comfortable your phone played a catchy ringtone, indicating an upcoming phone call.

You didn’t have time to say ‘hello’ as Sebek was screaming at your unpunctuality, claiming that his young master had been sad for the past 10 minutes.

Exiting the game, you expressed your gratitude for letting them stay at your dorm, and Idia muttered: ‘You’re welcome to come whenever you want though’.

You compromised to play another game later on, and for the first time in the afternoon, Idia, willingly, exchanged looks with you, promptly regretting.

You left before he could pass out, and he would be forever grateful for that.

DIASOMNIA’S HUMAN PROFESSOR

A trumpet dress. It had a long tail, but it wasn’t longer than the Pomefiore one; either way, this gave more of a…Goth vibe, slightly damaged at the ends. The full circle cloak helped cover the bare shoulders, a little heavy since it was made of a thick fabric, yet it truly increased the royalty aura that you were exuding. It was mainly black, with the sparks being of a raven purple; the flashiest colour being the neon green situated on some details of the dress, along with the cord that maintained the cape secured around your form. Feather cut hairstyle. It didn’t have accessories, nor braids or any ties, the only thing over your head being two black horns that were glued on it; smaller than Malleus horns that is.

This time you weren’t the one being the guest or being taught something; you were the teacher. And it started when you were taking a break from the overwhelming study that you’ve been doing since the week started.

Malleus always strolls there at night, waiting for you, and when you didn’t come to visit, he was enraged; the anger becoming sadness when he thought that you were mad at him, or even worse, you didn’t want to be his friend anymore.

Because the two of you were in different years, the probability of spotting you down the hallway was very low, now add to the problem that you were passing most of your time in the library, the Mostro Lounge or your dorm; now that reduces the chances to zero.

Lilia tried to cheer him up, as well as Silver, and when Sebek knew about this he explained that you were busy with your homework, and that eased him up a little.

But just a little; Malleus is very possessive and he needs to see you to make sure you are okay, so he knocks the door one night, hearing the light creaking of the wood as it opened to reveal you.

He tried to refrain himself, but at the end, he ended up hugging you. It was comforting; you didn’t push him away and you stayed there, in silence, until you broke the ice by asking if he wanted you to pass by Diasomnia tomorrow.

He smiled, saying that it would be a pleasure to receive you in his dorm.

And that’s how you scheduled the plan, leaving it for last because the other things were already timed, reserving it for casual talking about your world and human customs.

Malleus takes your hand, gets down on one knee and is preparing his words to get you engaged to him, no jokes here. However, before he can say the magical words, Lilia awkwardly laughs and cuts him off, distracting you so he can say that it’s maybe a little too early for him to marry you. He strongly disagrees, but he does gain some awareness when told that that could ruin your friendship, so he accepts, defeated. But that is not going to ruin his mood; you being there, talking to him and happily telling some stories of your world is enough for now.

Lilia is delighted, his laughter echoing through the room after Malleus tried to wed you. The style of this dress really has a resemblance with those of the Briar Valley, but it’s very unique, and maybe it’s because you’re wearing it. Even though he stopped Malleus from proposing, his mind can’t help but think about you in a traditional wedding dress of his hometown. He wonders if he can get you to use it one day, yet it stops there when he hears you cackling because of some funny anecdote that you were telling. It’s better to cherish the present, he thinks.

Silver is awoken up suddenly because of Sebek’s scream at the action of his young lord. He takes a moment to process the scene as he opens his eyes, ready to defend his soon to be king, and that’s when he sees him kneeling in front of you; noting the kind of clothes you are wearing, his cheeks burning ever so slightly. When the commotion was over, he sat next to you, and he tried to stay awake, he really did, but the soothing tone of your voice relaxed him to the point where he places his head on top of yours, quiet snores leaving his mouth.

Sebek thinks you are really going to marry his young lord. If Lilia didn’t stop him, he would; out of anger at you for seducing his master, or jealousy because he liked you too? We would never know, but what I do know is that if it was the latter, he will feel remorseful of his feelings, mostly when he realised that you didn’t even planned to come like this at first. He shuts up for a second, mind rebooting because wow, human? Tell him why are you such a beauty?

Lilia took advantage when Sebek quiet down, hurriedly sitting you in the sofa while asking some questions about your universe.

That made way for everyone’s curiosity (except Silver, he was busy sleeping on top of your head) to perk up, the air being filled with different questions about the place where you came from.

Malleus asked about the wedding customs, mostly human ones, and Lilia was surprised, to say the least, when you responded every one without suspecting a thing. How oblivious can you be?

Lilia wanted to know some recipes, and you told him some that you thought they all would enjoy; but there’s no limits to Lilia’s menacing cooking, even if he doesn’t have to use the stove or the oven he still will manage to make horrible meals, so you were very careful with your words. A futile attempt for sure, but let’s continue.

Sebek asked about the royalty and everything regarding the upper class, since he was curious that in a world with no magic, people still obeyed humans with no magical abilities. Less to say that you don’t actually know how to respond that.

It was getting late, and you noticed that the time was almost up, so you excused yourself with the same manners as before; thanking and promising to meet them next time, walking back to Ramshackle.

At the end, Grim hadn’t done much, only a couple things were cleaned and he was sleeping soundly on the sofa with tuna cans surrounding him. You sighed at it, sitting down in the couch with your pyjamas on, softly caressing the fur of the creature.

Your phone started to beep, messages popping up on the screen of everyone you just saw today, and you chuckled at that, starting to respond to every single one of them.

Maybe the fancy clothes were gone, but the havoc will still continue.

THE END~

DON'T REPOST.

EVERY CHARACTER BELONGS TO DISNEY AND YANA TOBOSO, AND I DON'T TAKE CREDIT FOR THEM.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #riddle rosehearts x reader #trey clover x reader #cater diamond x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #jack howl x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #rook hunt x reader #epel felmier x reader #idia shroud x reader #ortho shroud #malleus draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #silver twisted wonderland x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader

[queerponcho]

Transfixed | part 4

previous part | part 5

collage made by me with pictured from pinterest

moonknight!system x female!reader

a/n: I can't even begin to tell yall how cool i feel to have people reading what i write lmao. last week was super busy- i worked six days straight but i am so happy to finally post another chapter!! hope you like/ comment/ reblog if you enjoy(≧∇≦)ﾉ

Warnings: no use of Y/N, fluff, NOT beta read, gushing about the moonboys, flustered awkward dorks, plot-twists, Jake being a menace, Marc simping HARD, Steven being a cutie as always, spanish (without translations), if I missed anything or made any spelling mistakes pls don't hesitate to tell me!

Summary: finally ya'll get to read about the DATE!! Steven can barily hold it together and Marc stands on the side lines...at least that was the plan, but we all know that plans are made to be ignored. So Steven will unfortunately be interrupted by his brothers...more than once

4,800 words

‘He's here’ you mutter to yourself, running to the door making sure it's him and pushing the button to the intercom. ‘Yes, hello?’

The sweet voice rips him from his worry that he might’ve rang the wrong door despite checking the name and address for the millionth time. ‘..hello?’ you repeat unsurely into the intercom. ‘YES- uh i- yes hello, it’s Steven?’ he almost slaps himself mentally at his awkwardness but doesn't, when he hears your lively giggle easing him out of self-doubt. You buzz him in and he quickly pushes the door open. Making his way into the older looking building and going in the elevator. You quickly check your reflection in the hall mirror and apply the last layer of your favourite lipgloss when you hear the elevator doors creak open at the end of the hall. ‘You can do this- just be yourself!’ your reflection cringes at the self-pep-talk and you turn away from the mirror finally opening the door. You peek your head out the door and see Steven cautiously walking down the hall looking at all the nametags on the Apartments, before finally spotting you waiting at your entrance. He hurries towards you, you smile warmly at him and he returns the gesture with a flushed boyish grin. You stand in front of each other and you decide to break the silence ‘are these for me?’ you point to the flowers in his right hand. They were beautiful white flowers with red edges. ‘Yes, I- they’re carnations. I hope you like them’ he makes swift eye contact and rests his eyes back on the flowers, almost making you melt at his shy smile. ‘I love them, thank you Steven. Come in! I’ll quickly put them in a Vase before we leave.’ you step back into your apartment and wait for him to come in to close the door behind him.

He steps in and is immediately enveloped in your sweet scent. The Lighting is a warm yellow-y tone, the apartment is definitely not modern and looked rather old, but your personal furniture and decor gave it a youthful and warm ambience. All of it was very you. He loved it. ‘Did you have a hard time finding the apartment? I remember how I used to get lost easily in the first few weeks after I'd moved here.’ you ask him while picking out a vase from the cupboard. ‘Oh no, it was fairly easy to find- I think I've actually passed through here a few times before.’ he says pensively, still standing by the door not really knowing where to move. ‘I really like your home’ Steven says while looking around your open-plan apartment. He could even catch a glance of your bedroom from here, he wondered what it looked like in there…if he would ever get to see it personally…before he can fall down that rabbit hole he hears you answer. ‘Oh, um- thanks’ he catches you smiling and notices how you bite the inside of your bottom lip. He tries to not get caught up in the way you look while flustered like this- it was definitely doing something to him…he just wasn't sure what exactly, or rather he didn’t want to think about it too hard right now. Maybe later when he was back home…’So! Is the restaurant within walking distance or do we have to take the bus? Cuz if we have to take the bus I'll bring my bus-card.’ Steven blankly stares at you with a shocked expression ‘oh bugger, i totally forgot to tell you’ he mutters and avoids eye-contact but continues ‘all the restaurants are closed tonight-’ ‘oh-’ he sees your face fall but continues ‘yeah, I-i noticed a few hours ago and totally forgot to mention it to you since I was so busy buying and preparing the dinner, I am so sorry love- I- i understand if you don’t feel comfortable with going to my place-’ Stevens rambling is interrupted by your hands grasping his left hand, which had been resting on the countertop. Steven just stares at his hand enveloped in yours ‘you cooked for me?’ He snaps his head up and sees your soft smile and warm eyes. He can almost feel his knees give out at the sight in front of him, just now noticing what you're wearing and how beautiful you look in that too-big sweater. ‘Well…yes. Admittedly it might not be amazing but i-’ ‘I’m sure it's great steven, I can't wait to try it.’ you let go of his hand and he watches you grab your long coat and bag. You both head out the door and make your way out the building, on the way down he notices how his hand had somehow ended up back in yours, he feels his brain going fuzzy at the feeling of your hand enveloping his.

Your POV

Okay well yes, going to a guys place on the first date was something you wouldn't do on a usual date. But this isn't a usual date, is it? This is Steven, and well; Marc and Jake…can't really compare this to a regular dinner with some stranger. In the elevator you catch him looking at you from the corner of your eye. He notices you looking and turns a pretty shade of red, immediately moving his glance back towards the door. You have to bite back a giggle and make a move to take his hand back in yours. as soon as your fingers touch you feel your fingers tingle again. Just like when you were in the kitchen you get this tingling sensation and feel his heartbeat in your palm. As if you were holding his heart in your hand. As cheesy as it sounds, it's almost like you’ve felt this in another lifetime or like this has happened before…

You opt to walk to his place and stroll along the busy London street and talk about casual things like his work in the museum. Apparently he just got a job as a tour-guide in the museum of history and did tours of the different exhibits. His favourite being the Egyptian one. He seems fascinated by your interest in Egyptology and immediately basks in your attention, explaining tons of things to you and almost exploding with energy anytime you ask a question. Answering with “that's such an interesting question-“ or “many historians have speculated and cant seem to agree but I think-“. You can’t help but be almost entranced by his huge urge to teach you about something he clearly loves so much. You have hyper-fixations of your own so you feel very lucky that he's comfortable enough to indulge in his, so freely.  

He slows you both down and steers you towards an old looking apartment building in an okay part of town. It's very central but has the older charm just like your place. you let go of his hand and watch him fumble with his keys. He seems distracted and you hear him mumbling something. You assume he’s talking to Marc and don't feel like it’s your place to butt into their quick exchange. You head in and he closes the door behind you walking you toward the elevator. ‘My favourite god? Oh well that's a hard one-’ ‘Steven, you haven't asked her shit about her interests, shut up for a minute and let her talk!’ ‘bollocks, you’re right- so um, ‘nough about me…you like drawing, eh?’

flustered at the sudden switch of topic you answer quickly ‘yes- I-I love drawing, have loved to draw all my life basically’ ‘oh so you’re a proper artist then! I’d love to see some of your work’ Steven smiles eyes shining with interest ‘well- you’ve seen some before…remember?’ you say and giggle when you notice Stevens face change from fascinated and sweet to shock and somehow…blushing fear? His mouth agape, while staring into your eyes ‘how could I forget’ standing very close once again, you'd moved really close during the too-long elevator ride. Standing toe to toe, staring longingly into eachothers eyes. Marc is pretty sure Steven has never kept eye-contact for this long consecutively. 

But the spell breaks when the old elevator doors creak open and a dim ‘ding’ is emitted from the lift speaker. Steven clears his throat, the first to break the tension and turns away from you walking ahead to his apartment. You manage to unstick your feet from the floor and follow him.

You walk towards a deep navy blue door with the number 502 on it in gold metal letters. Even just the door looks homey and perfectly favours Stevens characteristics. The dark blue representing his shy nature but abundance in knowledge and love to give, the latter you haven't experienced first hand but you’ve felt it each time you touched him and held his hands.

The gold letters shining like his intense passionate nature, the one he exhibited when he told you all about egypt and the ennead. You may have known a lot of what he told you already, but it was so much nicer to hear it in his voice than it was to read it in those dusty forgotten books in the library. 

‘Here we are, welcome to my humble abode’ Steven chuckles and opens the door for you. You return his remark with a roll of your eyes accompanied by a stifled giggle and walk in. If the door of the apartment already told you so much about him, his flat was as if you’d held up a mirror in front of his mind.

It looked exactly like what you’d expect- except for the tidiness…with the little information you’ve gathered on Steven, he certainly didn't seem like a very organised guy. Even just the way he holds a conversation can be all over the place (which admittedly you kinda love), you just assumed his place would reflect that. You leave that thought and look over to Steven, only to realise he’d finished taking the dish out of the oven and had been watching you. He looks back down at the dish quickly,

‘I- well we made a lasagna, well two actually- one vegan and one with meat. Realised I never asked ya which you prefer so we made both’ he says while taking out the meat lasagna out of the oven and placing it on the wooden counter. You can't believe he made two lasagnas instead of just calling and asking. He doesnt stop being adorable and that makes you crave his closeness even more. Once again your mind is reeling with the question you keep asking yourself…”why do i feel so connected to him…” Jake you understand…then again, even he had you in a trance much too quickly. You aren't one to fall in love or even find many non-ficitonal people attractive and captivating. Recognising their beauty, yes. You are an artist so of course you can appreciate someone's beauty, but getting up to follow someone through the library, that was definitely a one-time thing you did only with Jake. He- well they had like a pulling energy around them that felt like it was tugging you closer to them.

You realise that you might’ve been staring at Steven for a bit too long since he started shifting and fidgeting uncomfortably. His face, a deep shade of red. ‘I-is there something wrong?- d’do you not like lasagna? I-I could ask Marc to whip up something el-’ Steven is already cursing himself out mentally for not asking you what you like to eat when he feels your hand around his arm. You tug him closer and pull him into a hug, squeezing him close as if he were to disappear in the next few seconds. You thread your fingers into his curls and tug him even closer. Hearing his breath hitch you feel him melt into your touch and nuzzle his nose into the crook of your neck, calming down by your touch once again. You feel his heartbeat but this time it resonates through your entire body, your hearts beating in unison.

He takes a deep breath and you blush at his content sighing. You hear him mumble something into your shoulder. ‘Hmm?’ ‘So the lasagna is okay then?’ you laugh and keep petting his head softly ‘I love lasagna’ you both pull back and you look into his eyes teasingly ‘and I'd love to try both of em’ you part from your hug completely and shoot him a wink. He blushes and he continues setting everything up while you take a stroll through his open-plan flat. 

You hear clanking in the kitchen and low mumbling, you’re sure Marc and Steven are discussing the previous moment. You give them their space and blend out the noise while looking through the impressive book collection. You assume it’s Stevens with all the egyptology and history titles, you find a few Greek mythology books that you’ve also read yourself before, you love to take a dive into that world regularly and can’t wait to discuss it with Steven. Just at the thought of him, you can feel his heartbeat against your ribcage again, it feels so calming and almost entrancing.

You continue walking along the bookshelf, when you walk past a large fish-tank. It was pretty much situated in the middle of the open flat. In it were two goldfish swimming calmly, merely floating peacefully in the water. In the reflection of the glass you could see Steven zooming from one side to the other gathering the last few things to complete the dinner “presentation”. A fond smile graces your lips when you notice the postcards and quotes around the tank. Some were handwritten post-it notes with french phrases written on them. You move on and keep wandering through the apartment.

You are brought back from your thoughts, when you step into…sand? You notice a ring of sand around Stevens bed, this reminds you once again of the fact that no one knows of your location or these boys. You are in the midst of contemplating a text to your friends when you hear Steven shout- ‘Love, dinner is ready!’ You quickly put your phone back into your bag. You shuffle towards the living room table and try not to fold over at the domestic image before you. Steven is wearing a cute white apron with red strawberries printed on it. In one hand he is holding a bottle of wine, you bite back a smile when you notice he is trying to open the bottle and is visibly struggling.

It’s probably because he forgot to take off the right oven-mitt and the corkscrew keeps slipping out between the fabric. You make your way over to him and envelope his mitt-covered hand with yours slipping the corkscrew out of his limp hand easily. After opening the bottle you sniff at it, checking for the scent and humming at the familiar smell of red wine. ‘Next time, maybe try it without the oven-mitts’ you say with a teasing lilt in your voice and look up at him.

You’d taken off your shoes when you had entered the flat, leaving you in only your wool socks. You have to slightly look up at him only to see him…gazing. He looks at you with a content and loving expression, his eyes shiny and his cheeks flushed. He is breathing steadily and you can feel the warmth radiating off of him and you want to reach out again and smother him in affection that is definitely too early to be giving at this point of your relationship.

You’d moved between him and the table, leaving you wedged in between. You feel yourself getting lost in his eyes, the never ending deep essence in them seemingly carrying so much weight. The eyes, surrounded by tired and reddened skin, made him look that much more vulnerable, making your heart flutter even further for him. You break your eye-contact when you look down at the bottle, and move to hold it up to Steven. ‘Will you do the honours?’ you say with a cheeky smile. ‘Oh, it would be my absolute pleasure darling.’ he says while taking the bottle out of your hand, lingering more than necessary, making the tingle in your fingertips return once again. You keep watching him as he fills up both of your glasses.

‘Alright, I think everything is ready. Take a seat.’ Steven takes off the apron, gestures at the chair in front of him and pulls it out for you, motioning at you to take a seat. You hate how much the gentleman spiel is working on you, but there is a reason why it was established so long ago isn’t there. People doing things specifically to make your life easier, to protect and to impress you has got to be one of the hottest things anyone could ever do. You give in and take a seat on the comfy wooden chair and place the napkin on your lap, watching Steven as he makes his way around the table to take a seat himself. It's a small round table, it has a white table-cloth on it and two candles on a little plate placed at the centre of it. You even hear faint music playing in the back, they had clearly put effort into impressing you and it made your heart almost beat out of your chest.

‘Thank you both so much for cooking, I’m so excited to try this.’ you offer them a thankful smile and Steven returns it with a quick blush and nervous gaze. You look down at your portion of lasagna, Steven had served you half a piece of each dish so you could try them both simultaneously. You pick up your fork and dig in and it's- delicious ‘mhh this is so good omg’ you all but moan at the flavours collecting and mingling in your mouth. You look up when you don't hear any response or even soft acknowledgement toward your statement. You see Steven sitting there in front of his barely eaten vegan lasagna, staring nervously onto the plate. ‘Steven?’

Before Marc can stop it, he is teleported into fronting. It's been a long time since he was so quickly shoved into control and can’t help but feel bad for Steven for being stuck in the back in such an anticipated moment. Before he can even try and apologise to him he makes note of his surroundings realising quickly what the trigger must’ve been. Steven had taken but one bite of the vegan lasagna and had probably remembered the taste of the lasagna their dad made Marc for his birthday…the one before…before Marc can think any further about his troubling childhood memories, he hears you. ‘Steven?’ you say cautiously. shit - this is so awkward, he has to save himself and he tries to do it in the only way that comes to mind; pretending to be Steven. ‘I-i am olroight luv-oll good’ he puts on an uncomfortable grin and is admittedly kind of impressed with himself. He had previously pretended to be Steven when he used to work in the gift-shop. No-one used to talk to him there though so he just had to continue working to save face. He continues eating and pretends to take a sip of wine, trying to behave and move like Steven does.

You’re a bit confused… Just moments before, Steven seemed really happy and comfortable, now he kinda looked all stiff and was acting really strange. You wonder if they might’ve switched again because he seemed so abruptly different, or maybe one of the other guys had said something to make him nervous. Trying to take his mind off it, you distract him with friendly and curious conversation. ‘So Steven, what made you choose the lasagna as the perfect dish for tonight?’ you ask genuinely curious, already almost finished with your plate. ‘It’s an old famly recepey- o-our dad um I mean father used to make it..’ too focused on the switch of emotion in his eyes, you forget to keep looking for anything that might lead to an explanation to his strange behaviour. He looked kind of sentimental and you feel him wanting to hold things back, before you can tell him that he doesn’t have to tell you anything he’s uncomfortable with, he continues. ‘It’s one of the best memories I have with him, making this lasagna for my birthday…back when everything felt so…right…’ you sit there awestruck by the raw emotion on his face. The warm candle-light reflecting in his tear-welled eyes and casting beautiful shadows on his face, you’re mesmerised. He huffs out a deep breath and clears his throat, lifting his head back up to meet your gaze, smiling at you softly. ‘It’s basically the only thing I know how to make properly’. You don’t notice his accent changing from a bad british, to a chicagen one and instead compliment him on the great job he did.  ‘Well, it’s very delicious.’ you say contentedly and faintly see his face turn a soft pink at your praise. 

‘Oi! So you’re allowed to tell her all about our business but I'm not? That’s very rich of you Marc, you...you hypocrite!’ Steven exclaims into Marc's consciousness, entirely pissed at the fact that Marc basically stole his date from him. ‘Shut up, Steven-’ Marc says through gritted teeth, trying to hide his slip up with a badly timed fake cough. Despite Marc's effort, you hear him, finally putting all the pieces together and notice that you might be facing Marc right now and not Steven. You feel a sense of excitement at meeting this new alter and can’t wait to find out more about him. It did bug you a little that he was trying to pretend to be Steven instead of just telling you, but still, you understood his apprehension since this wasn’t a regular situation for either of you. You hear Marc clear his throat and bring your attention back to him. ‘I’m so glad you loike it dahrlin we really did ouah behst’ now that you had connected the dots to this man being Marc, you had a really hard time trying to ignore the terrible british accent. You hold your breath slightly, keeping back a bubble of laughter and continue eating after smiling at him politely. ‘Marc you’re making me sound like a complete knobhead. I’m an academic for christs-sake, you could at least pretend to have some semblance of respect for me.’ Steven is a petty man, entirely unhappy with his situation, he finds it in his right to make Marc's life a bit harder right now. Another cough is heard from Marc when you hear him mutter something into his napkin. ‘Are you okay? Would you like some water?’ 

‘hmm?? No no alls good, sweets’ he quickly disputes. Now, that you can’t ignore. Despite your biggest efforts you burst into laughter, your stomach hurting from it. You feel tears forming at the corners of your eyes and see Marc gradually joining you, surely laughing just as hard as you, pressing his palms into his eye-sockets. ‘Sweets??? Really?? Steven has never called me sweets- ever’ you trail off into another fit of laughter. Marc calms down and catches his breath. 

‘Dammit- I really thought i’ve heard him say that one before’ you’re laughter dying down, you look at each other, the smiles still glued to your faces and they don’t seem to diminish even after a few minutes. ‘So…what gave me away?’ he asks curiously. ‘You have by far the worst english accent i have ever heard.’ ‘what! That was my best performance by far!’ He puts up an offended act, making you giggle and you try your best to look serious. ‘I'm so sorry to telly you, but you were terrible’ you can't keep a straight face and once again the laughter returns into the room and you wipe your eyes. He extends his hand across the table and you reach out and shake it.

‘I’m Marc’ He says, looking relieved to be able to speak in his own voice and accent once more. You introduce yourself to him and eventually, you both continue eating the lasagna and move into casual conversation. Marc tells you about how he reminded Steven of the fact that every restaurant was closed and how turbulent their day had been. How he cleaned up the apartment and tried to organise Stevens books only to give up after 2 hours and just shoving them under the bed. Cooking for you and making sure that they looked presentable, forcing Steven to use a hair-product and to put on a proper, nice shirt. At the mention of  his shirt, you trail your eyes over him. Noticing how comfortable he looked. He had folded his sleeves up to his elbow, exposing his forearms. He looked so good like this, you felt your mouth watering at the sight of him. You’d stopped listening and at some point he had stopped talking, looking at you smugly and analysing your reaction towards him. He slightly moved his hand, clenching and unclenching it. He sees you biting the inside of your lip and hears Steven in his head ‘Gods she is so beautiful like this’ ‘mmhm, she is…’

the sound of Marc's gravelly voice rips you out of your daydreams, feeling your ears heating up violently. ‘You havin’ fun there, sweetheart?’ Marc says while raising his left eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest, making them look even thicker. ‘I-oh heh…sorry’ you scratch an invisible itch on the side of your neck, and look away from him, averting your gaze from his playful smirk. You felt his gaze staying on you and can’t keep yourself from turning your head back towards him and feeling your entire body buzzing with electricity. Marc was much more intense than Steven, looked intimidating, in the best way.

He looked like he could protect anyone from anything, like he’d do anything for those he loved. His gaze, steady and confident, sure of himself but also guarded, like he wasn’t gonna show you everything right away. He wasn’t Steven afterall, who was the exception, the only man to expose himself completely to everyone without even trying to hide his genuine feelings and intentions. They were so different, all of them so unique and so unlike the other. You feel warmth spread through your body like a warm current passing from your head to your toes. ‘Nono, don’t apologise’ he leans on the table and reaches for your other hand resting on the table, holding it gingerly in his, making circles with his thumb over your hand. 

You watch the movement and look at his hand caressing yours, revelling in the returning fuzzy feeling in your mind and the tingles emitting from his touch. You feel his heartbeat again, slow and steady, like a confident but soft stomp. You feel his calloused thumb making soothing circles and close your eyes at the different sensations, humming contentedly. ‘Hmm’ you humm with the familiar song playing in the back, it was a track from Natalia Lafourcade ‘Caminar bonito, my favourite-’ before you can finish the thought, you hear the chair before you slide backwards over the floor. You look up and see Marc, standing next to you and he tugs you upwards to stand with you.

Now you’re both standing and he tugs you towards the open space in front of the huge archway that they had made into Stevens' bookcase. You’re standing flush against him, chests close together and he takes your left hand in his, intertwining your fingers and moves his other hand to your waist.

His thumb continues soothing you and you place your other hand on his shoulder. You start swaying to the beat of the song, easing into each other's movements. You rest your head on his shoulder and he moves his hand, which was resting on your waist, to the middle of your lower back. You move your intertwined hands closer to you, hugging them towards you and move your other hand from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, softly petting his grown out locks at the back of his neck. Gently swaying from side to side you continue humming to the record. Several minutes later you look up at him and see him already looking at you. Feeling and hearing your heart-beats synced up and the soft beat of the music was making your vision almost blurry. Both of you softly sway to the music, pattering your sock-covered feet on the hardwood floor. He untangles your fingers and holds your hand in his, you feel his hand on your lower back lead you to make a twirl. You both smile and you successfully make the twirl and end up that much closer to him.  Your noses brushing and his, grazing your left cheek.

You let out a soft wavering breath and you look into his eyes. They were darker than before, you would recognise that look from any distance and you know that this wasn’t Marc nor was it Steven, you were certain of it. 

He speaks up, only confirming your suspicion. ‘¿Me dejas besarte, hermosa?’

a/n: This one is alot longer lmao but i promised the date so here it issss. In the next part Jake ensures that you get home safely and drives you back in his pretty car. Get ready for a cliche rain-kiss and a mysterious cliffhanger ;)

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[little-pondhead]

Fenton Family on Vacation (part 1)

Original Post⬅️

"You know, when you revealed yourself as Phantom, I thought it would be much harder to adjust." Madeline Fenton, ghost-hunting extraordinaire and mother of two, stared at the swirling green portal in her basement. Despite building the darn thing herself, with its glowing wires and simple design, Maddie felt like she was seeing the whole thing for the first time.

It was late afternoon on a Saturday. At least, Maddie assumed so. She hadn't stepped foot outside their lab for a while now. Too busy modifying all their ghost-hunting equipment. The blinking red numbers of the digital clock on their desk said it was almost six in the evening. Then again, it has been six in the evening for the past several months. The clock was very much broken, and no one had bothered to fix it. 

It was summer, so the time spent in the Fenton lab drastically increased. And with the reveal of their son Danny, Maddie practically breathed ectoplasm with the amount of time she was spending in the basement. Danny said it was no big deal, but both Fenton parents were determined to re-evaluate their research and inventions completely. Basically, starting from scratch. 

So imagine her surprise when, two days ago, both Jazz and Danny sat them down to propose a memorable family vacation. 

And for some reason, she couldn't say no. Was it her guilt? They were prepared to shell out the money for any dream destination the kids proposed. But no, Danny had invited them to a different dimension via the Ghost Zone. This was tremendous progress, not just in her relationship with her kids but also for their new research. (Let's not mention the headache she got from learning parallel dimensions exist.)

Apparently, the kids had been planning this for a while because now everyone was packed and armed to the teeth, two days later. Jazz had taken care of the logistics-when to leave, how to get there, what to bring. Danny was the one to choose the location since he was the most familiar with the Ghost Zone. Maddie learned much later that he had just thrown a dart at a lineup of names on a corkboard.  

"Are you sure it's okay for us to enter?" Maddie looked concerned.

"Yeah! It'll be fun, mom!" Danny reassured. "It's just a week off-I've always wanted to show you the cool parts of the Ghost Zone without the immediate threat of horrible death." Maddie gave her son the stink eye. He was grinning a bit too innocently for her liking.

"Well, I think it'll be a great bonding experience!" Jack announced, winking at Danny. Badly. "Someone was being a little paranoid about the mall trip yesterday; I hardly got a chance to spoil our new little princess."

Ah, yes, their new granddaughter. Danielle. Maddie had been furious to discover how horrible Vlad had been to her family. Attempting to murder her husband, trying to recruit Danny as a weird evil son/apprentice, outright disrespecting and dismissing Jazz's existence, and wanting to marry her?? "Furious" was putting it lightly. The man slept with a doll version of herself, for heaven's sake! And then Danny just offendedly mentions that Vlad had cloned him. Several times. Only one clone survived; a little girl with no identity of her own. And here was her son sheepishly asking if they might consider letting the clone stay? Even for a little? She was traveling around right now but didn't really have a place to call home-

Maddie and Jack immediately offered to adopt the girl into the family as their youngest. 

(Jazz giggled. "Danny already beat you to it. They tried being cousins at first, but he acts like a total dad around her—the fastest case of ghost adoption that I've ever seen. Instead of a new child, Elle's more like a new grandchild.")

Danny blushed, hunching his shoulders in. "I don't know if Elle wants to be a grandkid-we haven't talked about it, really."

"YOU CAN BET YOUR SWEET BISCUITS I WANNA BE A GRANDKID."

The trio startled and turned, watching the last two of the Fenton family work their way down the stairs into the lab. Jazz was gripping her backpack in one hand and Elle's arm in the other, using her superhuman strength to keep Elle in line. Probably so Elle wouldn't run down the stairs and permanently kill herself. Jack quietly chuckled at the sight of Elle's ghost-themed backpack, so painstakingly picked out the day before. It was a tad too big and looked just adorable on her. A few tiny blob ghosts floating around her head whizzed in excitement, sometimes using the backpack as a place to hide. Maddie, personally, loved the pink light-up sneakers that Elle showed off as much as possible. Her husband had done well shopping by himself. 

It was evident Elle was excited about the trip. Despite all her travels abroad, satisfying her wanderlust, she'd never been to another dimension. When they had reached the bottom, Elle phased out of Jazz's grip, bolting to collide with Jack in a hug. "Yesterday was loads of fun." She exclaimed. "I loved shopping around for new stuff. And if being Danny's kid means I get two new grandparents in the deal, then I'm taking it."

Danny made a face. "But isn't it weird to have a dad so close in age to you? What if people look at you weird?"

Jazz snorted at her brother's words, picking her way around the lab mess. "Danny, you'd be the one they would look at funny. A fifteen-year-old-"

"I'm almost sixteen!"

"A fifteen-year-old who has a physically thirteen-year-old daughter? People will be ready to call CPS."

"And besides!" Elle detangled herself from Jack's grip and stomped over to Maddie with a shit-eating grin as she looked at her dad. "Technically, I'm only a year old. You're not going to leave your poor, unstable clone daughter alone in the world to fend for herself, right?" Danny just grumbled. Something about not even being old enough to drive. 

Maddie cooed a bit and enjoyed the hug from her new granddaughter. It was cold but in a good way. Elle's response was a low hum that vibrated through her body. It reminded Maddie of a cat's purr.

"I've been meaning to ask," Maddie said. Elle clung tighter as she adjusted her grip. "What is ghost adoption?? You mentioned that before when explaining your relationship with Elle."

Their son shuffled his feet a little. "Uh, it basically means my core has connected to hers in a parental way, I guess." He was obviously nervous. "When we first met, even before I knew Elle was a clone, my core recognized her as a "baby ghost," so to speak. There was enough of a connection that I kind of adopted her subconsciously."

"But it doesn't happen with between all ghosts." Jazz cut in. It felt like their eldest was giving them a lecture on this and that every week. "Frostbite explained it a while ago, something about similar cores and ambient ectoplasm. Kind of like pack bonding?"

Maddie nodded, barely following. "And Frostbite...you said we were visiting this person?"

Danny perked up, actually floating a few feet off the ground in excitement. "Frostbite is the best! He's the leader of the Far Frozen and looks like a giant yeti. He helped me figure a bunch of things out and makes the best cocoa."

"Well, I'm excited to meet him."

And they were. Going through the portal was an experience and a half. It wasn't the first time they'd done this, but it was still memorable. Danny and Elle had gone ghost and chased each other around the Specter Speeder while Jazz piloted, hunched over the steering wheel. The Ghost Zone was a wonderful mix of greens and purples; Jack lamented his lack of a camera.

("We don't want to give Technus something to use." Tucker explained. Danny's friends had come by to help them all pack properly. "The Fenton Cameras haven't been ghost-proofed all the way, and Technus is an insufferable b-uh, idiot when he manages to get his hands on new tech. I'll never hear the end of it.")

It was just so much colder than they expected. The "Far Frozen" certainly lived up to its name. So did Frostbite and his legendary cocoa. The giant yeti (did he count as a ghost??) also took the opportunity to give each Fenton a checkup (ghosts have doctors???) to make sure everyone was healthy enough for inter-dimensional travel. They were, and Frostbite even handed over a few extra vials of pure ectoplasm to tide the kids over in case they didn't land near a natural source in the new dimension. Jack and Maddie took a few vials each, one for each of their ghost kids, and Jazz just tucked hers away in her luggage with a little pat.

Then they were off sightseeing. Understandably, most of Danny's allies were a bit wary around the (mostly former) ghost hunters but did their best to hide it. Jack and Maddie got to meet Princess Dorathea, who could turn into a freaking dragon how cool was that, Jack-

There was Pandora, a towering woman with blue skin and four arms. She took a liking to Maddie and gifted her an engraved xiphos. "To match her fighting spirit." The woman explained. She did not tell anyone what the engraving meant. At some point, they saw a towering castle in the distance. It was hard to see, but the towers looked like spiraling ice. Jack asked about it.

"Oh, that's nothing special." Danny waved them off. "Don't worry about it. We DO need to worry about Walker's prison, so duck down for a bit. He doesn't like it when the living are in his territory." Maddie didn't bother pushing the subject, so they moved on.

Then there was Wulf, a werewolf who could make portals and was the kids' teacher on that subject. Jazz was especially excited, greeting Wulf with a bear hug. (Maddie vaguely remembered something about her daughter being a werewolf now, but she very rarely changed while in the living world. Maddie had almost forgotten.) Jack was pleasantly surprised to learn Wulf spoke Esperanto. In fact, that was the only thing he could speak. It turns out Esperanto was something Jack had learned during their college days. The two hit it off, and Jack had to be dragged away from whatever conversation they were having.

Time moved a bit sluggishly, but eventually, they got around to "the least annoying ones." Elle had a blast messing with someone named Fright Knight, who just kept calling her 'my lady' for some reason. Danny got a few potshots in when one of his rouges (was that a robot?) got too close to the Speeder. They met Ghost Writer, Amorpho, Lunch Lady, Nocturne, Technus, Ember, Cujo, and a few others. Their final stop was Clockwork's.

The flight there was exceptionally long. It felt like forever, yet the clock in the Speeder only moved forward five minutes. Jazz explained that this was Clockwork's influence. He was the Master of Time, and the closer they got to his lair, the weirder time was. Eventually, the Fenton family arrived. Clockwork's lair was, well, a clock tower.

("Really, I don't know what we expected, Maddie.")

It was dark and green, sitting on a tiny island they could barely land on. Ectoplasm was thick in the air; Maddie was sure that if she weren't already ecto-contaminated, it would have been increasingly difficult to breathe. Multiple ticking sounds filled the air as if the tower was filled with nothing but clocks. Maddie took a wild guess and thought it probably was. A glowing green sticky note drew their attention as they approached the door.

Danny scowled as he read the note. "Daniel, something has come up with the Observants. I would appreciate it if you wouldn't make the Watchtower your new haunt. A natural portal will open next to the Speeder. Enjoy your vacation, Clockwork. Drat, I was hoping he'd be home. I really wanted you to meet him."

Maddie pats his shoulder. "It's okay. I'm sure we'll find time later." Elle giggled at the pun.

"I know." He sighed. "It's just, he can be so cryptic. Why would I make a watchtower my new haunt? I've never even been to a real watchtower! But the note says a natural portal will spawn next to the Speeder so that we can wait for that."

"You mean this portal?"

Jazz was closely examining a small tear in reality that had popped into existence next to her foot. It was small and low to the ground. Small enough that the Specter Speeder definitely couldn't get through. Maddie doubted they'd be going in all at once.

Elle peered over her shoulder. "That's it! Come on, old man, I'll race you!" She dove in without waiting for a reply.

"DANIELLE MADELINE FENTON!" Danny immediately chased after, disappearing into a swirl of green.

"Oh yeah, she's definitely related." Jazz said. "Come on. I'll follow behind once you two go through." Maddie looked at Jack, and Jack looked at Maddie. Fine with them.

Jack went first, knuckles tight from gripping his bag straps, doing his best to suck in his gut before dropping out of existence. Maddie went next, standing on tiptoes and still having Jazz bend down to press a kiss to her cheek before she left. "Make sure to lock up the Speeder."

Jazz smiled, her eyes glowing with the barest hint of green. She had a hand on the Fenton thermos clipped to her belt and if Maddie squinted, she could see the barest outline of a crown on her head. "See you on the other side, mom."

Maddie stepped into the portal, feeling nothing but open air, and fell through.

---

Edit: OH GOD I FORGOT THE MOST IMPORTANT DETAIL ABOUT JAZZ I FIXED IT I AM SO SORRY

(the fix was kind of rushed but there is an extra line or two now that actually mentions it)

#danny phantom #jazz fenton #dp x dc #danny fenton #jack fenton #maddie fenton #dani fenton #i got lazy towards the end #seriously #there will be #tall jazz #tall jazz reigns supreme #bamf jazz #i just really like jazz #i think she’s neat #ffov #fenton family on vacation #werewolf!jazz #wulf is like a weird cousin #he teaches her how to be a werewolf

[heartfullofleeches]

If you want to could we have a scenario with the cafe tag role reversal au? Maybe readers first time going to the cafe and being met with Clyde and Saber as like a little callback to the first Cafe tag post?

The pet cafe's opening week. Lines spread down the block with the lure of being catered to by an adorable and friendly cast of hybrids joined by a special guest to kick off the launch. Saber was well known in the modeling industry for his looks and charm. Being a high class breed and a hybrid of one of the most common house pets were a clear boost to his popularity. It was no surprise the cafe reached out for his aid which was an obvious success. He had been everyone's first choice for a host, and booked the entire duration of the collab. All this attention was just too much for the poor feline.

"Hello, I'm here for my appointment with Clyde."

Saber's claws leave divots in the table. The hostess manning the front desk offers the customer a warm smile as they lead them to their table, depositing their umbrella in the bin beside the desk. A chipper bee that the customer has to speed walk to keep up with and leaves them a honey flavored sucker as they leave to get their coworker from the back. The poor unaware rabbit ducks behind the coffee table as the doors to the break room fly open.

"Clyde! Your twelve o'clock is here!"

Clyde's pale face drains of color as a menu is shoved in his arms. "What?! I thought you were joking about that...."

"I was at first, but then a real request came in like five minutes later." Robbie pushes their coworker towards the door." Well, don't keep your first waiting. Go, go, go!'

Clyde fits his hair as he's pushed into the dining area. He continues to smooth his curly locks, and tries to make himself look as presentable as possible for his first master of the day. He's never been called on before. He's used to taking meal orders for the guests waiting for more popular pets like that feline. Passing the table were Saber sat crowded by an entire group of people, Clyde feels a chill run down his back as his temporary partner shoots him an icy glare. Creepy. Saber's never been nice to him, but he's never done that before. He could worry about that later. Focus.

"Table six... table six.. Ta- Ah! Here we go. I apologize for the wait, master. Welcome to the cafe, can I get you something to drink to start you off?"

"I'll need a moment to decide. Can you sit next to me until then?"

"Certainly!" Clyde takes a seat on the edge of the booth. It was easier said than done. He couldn't figure out why someone had chosen him, especially a cute human like them if a side view was anything to go off of. Were they using him for something? Maybe they only requested him so they could watch Saber without the wait. Why was he dumping such accusations on a stranger? Why did they feel right?...

"I'll just take a water for now, and sip of whatever you want."

"....Pardon?" Did he hear them right?

The guest looks embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I'd use a separate straw of course, but I thought it would be okay since I saw others doing it and I didn't want you to be left out."

His ears had been tugged on a lot throughout the years - but he heard them loud and clear. They... actually wanted him. Was that him overthinking again? Clyde prayed not. Someone was asking about him. Someone was looking at him. He had been noticed.

The guest looks under the table as their silverware slides into their lap. "Are you alright?"

Clyde holds down his leg, face as red as the tie around his neck. "Y-yes, just- a bit excited. I'll go get those drinks for us."

In the split second it takes for Clyde to hop away from the table, a few face takes his spot. The customer had taken to watching the falling rain outside the window so they remain oblivious to his presence. The slippery feline rubs up against the guest's forearm much to their confusion. They put on their friendliest uncomfortable smile and pull their arm away, waving with a limp wrist.

"Um... Hello"

"Hi there." Saber purrs, switching one leg over the other as his tail falls onto their thigh. "Waiting for someone?"

"Yeah actually, I think his name is Clyde. I thought he was super cute, so I wanted to meet him."

Saber rolls his eyes, picking up the pieces of his friendly facade as he leans on their shoulder. "Awww, don't be like that. I'm sure we could have more fun together than you could with him."

"Really, I'm not interested."

Saber, ever the prideful, refuses to back down. He scoots closer, heavy rain pelting his ears. Thunder claps drilling his sensitive ears with tremendous boom that crumbles his ego and his body to the floor. He covers his ears with his hands and hisses, plugging the holes with his fingers as if trying to make himself go deaf. Hands pulling him away, and cushioning his head with their chest prevents him from doing just that. The guest strokes his head and hushes him as the thunder died out.

"There, there. You're alright." They help him back to the chair and check to make sure he didn't hurt himself. Their hands are so soft. They fade from contact as the guest looks over his shoulder. "Clyde's back. You going to be okay?"

Saber, admitting defeat for now returns to his original table. Clyde bites the flesh of his cheek to keep his smile from spreading too far.

"Master, I'm back. I hope you enjoy milkshakes?"

"Sounds good." The guest scoots back over to their side of the booth, petting the rabbit's hair much to his surprise. Through his salt and pepper locks, they notice a single black dot behind one of his ears. "You don't have to call me master if you don't want to. Y/n is just fine, but if we're handing out nicknames you mind if I call you Spot?"

Spot's leg starts to bounce again. Please let them become a regular.

#yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere insert #yandere blurb #role swap au #yandere drabble #yandere hybrid

[allthingsfangirl101]

Underneath The Tree – Joe Keery

The only thing worse than being alone for Christmas was being alone and sick for Christmas. I pulled the blanket up closer to my chin as Jimmy Fallon introduced his next guest, Joe Keery.

Joe and I have known each other for several years. We met when he was filming Free Guy. I worked in the Starbucks cafe Amazon had on set. It started with Joe stopping by every couple of days. He then started stopping by every morning. This turned into him coming in every morning and before he left every day.

After months of him stopping by, he finally asked me on a date. We dated on the DL because we weren't sure how his director would react to us dating. We've been official ever since Free Guy came out. Six months ago, Joe and I decided to move in together. We thought it would help our relationship since Joe's always gone for work.

I smiled, ignoring the fever as I watched Jimmy interview my man. He was a natural. He answered Jimmy's questions while being respectful and funny. He was perfect. It's no wonder girls all over the world were in love with my boyfriend.

"So, tell me how things are going with Y/N," Jimmy said, shifting the conversation to Joe's personal life. "Still going strong?"

"Of course," Joe chuckled.

Behind his professional actor smile, I could see a slight blush building. He never minded talking about his job, but he was hesitant to talk about me and our relationship. He didn't want to accidentally share too much. The last thing he wanted was to share information about us that made me uncomfortable.

"Come on, Joe," Jimmy teased. "Give us some details. You two have been dating for, what? Two years?"

"About a year and a half," Joe corrected politely.

"And?" Jimmy elongated.

"And things are going great," Joe chuckled. "Y/N is amazing and she makes me incredibly happy."

"That's wonderful," Jimmy cooed. "You two live together, right?"

"Yep," he said shifting in his seat. This conversation tended to make him a little uncomfortable. Some people thought moving in after one year was too soon. We received some backlash when it leaked. Ever since then, Joe's hated interviewers talking about our living situation.

"Once we got to the one-year mark, we decided to move in together," he continued. He quickly added, "I'm gone a lot for work and we would sometimes go weeks without seeing each other. We figured that moving in together would allow us to see each other more."

"Has it?"

"It has," Joe said, relaxing. "I get to see her every day I'm home. She's the first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing I see when I go to bed. It's perfect."

"Well," Jimmy chuckled, "it sounds like the two of you are really in love."

"We are," Joe said. My breath got caught in my throat when he looked at the camera and smiled.

I don't know who the musical guest was. I fell asleep after Joe finished his interview. I woke up about an hour later to my phone ringing. Without getting up, I grabbed it off the coffee table and answered it.

"Merry Christmas Eve Eve, Joe."

"Crap," Joe said into the phone.

"Hello to you too," I chuckled as I slowly sat up.

"I didn't mean to wake you up, baby," he sighed. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I said as I slowly sat up. The movement of me sitting up sent me into a coughing attack. I pulled the phone away from my ear and tried to cover it. When I finally calmed down, I put the phone back to my ear.

"Are you okay, Y/N?" Joe asked.

"I'm fine," I brushed off.

"I'm so sorry," he sighed.

"What for, baby?"

"For not being there," he sighed again.

"Joe," I tried to interrupt him.

"I should be there," he continued. "I should be there to take care of you. To make you soup. To draw you a hot bath. To get you water when you go into one of your coughing attacks. To hold you as you fall asleep. To take care of you."

"You had to go to New York," I said, making sure to sound as strong as I could. "You had an interview. It was a plus side that you're family is spending Christmas in New York. Besides, you'll be home after the holidays."

"I know, but. . ."

"Please, don't do this, Joe," I sighed, a small cough getting caught in my throat.

"But. . ."

"No," I said firmer. "Joe, you know how much I love you. You haven't seen your family since before we moved in together. They were taking that trip to New York at the same time as your interview. It was perfect. You got the interview done and now you're spending Christmas with your family. And don't forget that we talked about this."

"That was before you got sick," he whispered.

"I'll be fine," I said slowly, mainly because it hurt to breathe, but also to make sure he heard me. "I'll spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day watching classic Christmas movies. You know my tradition of watching White Christmas on Christmas Eve. I can't skip that just because I'm sick."

"I wish you weren't doing that alone," he said, slightly speaking up.

"Well, it's not your fault my dad spends the holidays with his real family," I shrugged.

"Does your dad even know you're sick?" He asked.

"I called him," I sighed. "His wife sent me a care package."

"That was nice of her."

"Yeah," I scoffed. "The only reason she sent it was because she's 'trying' to show I'm a part of their family."

"At least she's trying," he offered.

"It would mean more if it was coming from him," I whispered.

"I know," Joe sighed. "I'm sorry, baby. I should've brought you with me to New York."

"Then your poor family would be stuck taking care of me," I chuckled.

"And they would happily do it," he said instantly. "Even my mom would rather have you here with us instead of alone."

I tried to avoid it, but sighing sent me into another coughing attack. Through my coughing, I could barely hear Joe sighing. For a second, it sounded like he was talking to someone.

"Baby?" He said, his voice coming out clearer. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," my voice horse from coughing.

"Get some water. Do you have some water?" He asked quickly.

"I do," I said, my voice slowly returning. I grabbed the water bottle I had next to me and took a large drink. I stopped drinking when I heard Joe talking to someone, maybe his mother.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," Joe said, sounding a little strange. "My mom just asked how you were feeling."

"Oh," I said softly. I cleared my throat, trying to get rid of the sudden guilt. "How's your family?"

"They're good," he said, still sounding strange. "They miss you. I miss you."

"I miss you too, baby." I paused before adding, "You'll be back before New Year's, right?"

"Yes," he said quickly. "My flight is on the 30th."

"Perfect," I said, no longer able to hide how tired I was.

"You should get some sleep," Joe said softly. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Sounds good."

"Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"I love you, baby."

"I love you too, Joe."

* * * * *

After my call with Joe last night, I fell asleep on the couch instead of our bed. I half-woke up when I felt someone gently move some hair out of my face. My eyes started to open but fully shot open when I saw who it was.

"Joe!" I gasped. I would've jumped into his arms if the excitement hadn't sent me into a coughing attack.

"Hello to you, too," he teased. He chuckled when I pouted. "What's with the face, Pout-pout Fish?"

"I want to kiss you," I said sadly. "But I'm sick."

"How about we do something else?"

"Joe," I sighed, laying back into the couch. "If we can't kiss, we definitely can't do that."

"I wasn't talking about that," Joe laughed. "And we don't have to kiss to do it."

"That may be true," I smiled, "but I'm still too weak."

"That's a different issue. One that can't be fixed or avoided," he chuckled. "Anyway, I meant this."

I smiled as Joe carefully crawled over me until he was lying behind me. I closed my eyes as I focused on the feeling of being wrapped in his arms. He reached over and grabbed the remote.

"What are you doing?" I mumbled.

"Putting on White Christmas," he said as he put the remote on the nearest side table. "Duh."

Joe wrapped his arm around my waist and I instantly draped my arm over his. Joe kissed my temple before relaxing behind me.

"I love you," I whispered.

"I love you too, baby. Merry Christmas, Y/N."

"Merry Christmas, Joe."

#joe keery #joe keery x reader #christmas imagine #Joe Keery x Christmas

[1000roughdrafts]

hey! if you take requests, i’m just wondering if you’d consider a sister winchester one? maybe her at 18? i love your writing so much, and i’d really love something like a hurt reader/dying reader?? something super angsty ahaha

Oh, for sure! Angst is my favorite! (as I'm sure you can tell by the word count lol) sorry it’s taken me like 3 years to get to this 😞

A/N: this was meant to post 2/28/24 because I wanted to ease into coming back with an every other week posting schedule BUT I’m just too excited and antsy for that lol also it’s set in Season 1, Episode 1

Thank you by the way!

Title: Please Wake Up

Warnings: swearing, graphic description of injury and illness, blood angst, hurt/dying reader, depiction of medical procedures, takes place in season 1 episode 1 :)

Word Count: 5.8k

Being third born after two boys, Y/N always felt like she had big shoes to fill. Despite her best efforts to impress the man, she never really formed a bond with John. Her next role model was Dean, who became more of a father to her than John ever was or could be.

Until her eleventh birthday, Dean did her hair into pigtails every day, partly because he hadn't learned to do any other hairstyle but mostly because he thought it was the cutest on her. He'd pack her and Sam's lunch with snacks he'd bought from vending machines and even pretend to take her on hunts because he knew she wanted to be exactly like him.

When she wasn't learning about monsters and guns with Dean, she spent time with Sam. He'd help her with her homework or play board and card games. They have as much in common as Y/N and Dean. Neither Sam nor Y/N got along with John, and neither remember their mothers. 

Y/N's mother was a woman John met in Nebraska three years after the boy's mom died. The affair only lasted a night, but to his surprise, he heard from her again six months later with the news that they had a baby girl on the way. John was shocked and heartbroken. He couldn't bear the thought of bringing another child into the life of hunting.

John kept his distance, adamant that Y/N would be better off without him, and when another three months of silence went by, he figured that Y/N's mother came around to see it his way. Unfortunately, her pregnancy was complicated, as was the birth, and it turned out that having Y/N is what killed her. 

When John got the call, he had half a mind to let the state take custody of little Y/N. Indeed, they would provide her with a better life than he could. John decided to meet her at least, and when he laid eyes on her perfect little face, he couldn't bring himself to abandon her. 

Y/N was barely sixteen when Sam left for college. While she was proud of him for putting himself first, it broke her heart for him to go the way he did. She missed him more and more every day, often keeping Dean up at night with her sniffling and crying. After a while, he would get into bed next to her when the tears started and sing Hey Jude while playing with her hair to help her fall asleep. That went on for another six months before she finally started to fall asleep without crying. 

For her seventeenth birthday, Dean came across a necklace he'd wanted to get for her since Sam left. From his wallet, he took out the only picture he had of the sibling trio, representing the single moment of their life where John treated them like regular kids, and using his pocket knife, he carved around their heads and bodies to match the exact size of the locket, smiling proudly at himself when it fit perfectly. 

Now at eighteen, she stands next to the Impala while Dean lugs their bags out, drops them into the trunk, and slams it shut. He heads for the driver's door but stops when he realizes Y/N hasn't opened hers yet. Eyebrows raised, he twirls a finger in the air as if to say, 'Let's get a move on.'

"Are you ever gonna teach me how to drive, Dean?" she asks. "I mean, you've got to, you know?" 

"No, I don't. Get in," Dean says. She does so with a huff. Dean checks the mirrors before backing out of their parking spot. Turning to Y/N, he says, "Besides, as long as I'm around, you don't need to," but softens his face into a smile when he looks at her. "Cause there's no way in Hell I'll ever let you drive my car." 

Y/N lets out a soft chuckle. "It doesn't have to be this car, Dean!" She rolls the window down, letting the cool breeze hit her face. "What happens if we get separated and I'm being chased by… I don't know, something that has super speed, and my only way back to you is to steal a car and -" 

"Stop. First of all, you should know that I'd never put you in that kind of danger," Dean says, disgusted by the mere thought. He lets out a long sigh. "I'll teach you," he says, looking at her gleaming smile. He tries his damnedest to see her for the adult she's becoming, but he only sees the happy baby in pull-ups he used to feed marshmallows and jello to on a motel room floor. "Just… not yet, okay?" 

She scoffs, "Most people learn to drive when they're only fifteen. I mean, you took me to freaking Vegas with a fake ID for my birthday, for fuck's sake!" 

"I said not yet, Y/N!" he says, shooting her the 'dad look' he's been perfecting since she was four. 

"Fine," she grumbles. She clasps her hands, "So I was looking through news articles, and there seem to be vamps in the next town. Should we be on that?" 

Dean clears his throat and needlessly adjusts the rear-view mirror. "Actually, kiddo, we're on something else right now." He keeps his head straight but glances at her out of the corner of his eyes. Whispering, he says, "We're gonna go get Sammy." 

Y/N's eyes widen as her head whips to look at him. "What?" 

He keeps his eyes on the road, "yeah, uh, with Dad missing... we could use the help," he says, gripping the steering wheel tighter. 

"But Sam's at college!" Y/N scoffs, "he wanted out!" 

"He abandoned us!" he shouts, shaking his head at himself when he notices her shoulders tense. Her eyes peer into her lap, where her hands lie folded. “Look Y/N/N, I just… I can't shake this awful feeling that something is wrong." He waits for a response from her, but she only nods with thin lips. She tunes him out and focuses on the wind hitting the window. "I gotta make sure they're okay," he says softly. 

Over the years, Y/N has learned to trust Dean's intuition, but right now, it just feels like he's being selfish. She opts to stay quiet, even if it makes a long drive longer.

Y/N jolts awake at the sound of the trunk slamming shut. She takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She doesn't see Dean next to her, so she scans her surroundings through squinted eyes, hoping for a clue about her whereabouts. She finds a gas station receipt in her lap and flips it over to see the scribbles of Dean's handwriting telling her to 'stay put or else.' She rolls her eyes, crumpling it into a ball to throw it into the backseat.

She hears the voices of two familiar men, one of whom she hasn't heard in two years. Her heart races, and she fumbles with the seat belt, trying to unhook it with shaky hands. She jumps out of the car and turns in time to see Dean leaning on the back of the Impala.

"It's a law school interview," Sam says, "and it's my whole future on a plate," he glares.

"Law school?" Dean asks with a smirk. Y/N walks over to stand next to Dean. He shoots a quick, acknowledging glance her way. Sam's eyes shift between Dean and Y/N, softening when they land on Y/N, "so we got a deal or not?" he asks flatly.

Dean says nothing but lightly nods his head. Y/N runs towards Sam, nearly knocking him over with a hug.

"Y/N/N," he smiles. Pulling her even closer to him, he wraps his arms tightly around her back and kisses the top of her head. "I missed you," he whispers.

"I missed you, too," she says, her eyes welling up with tears. Sam looks at Dean just in time to see him press his lips together with an 'I told you so' in his eyes. Sam shakes his head, squinting at Dean just before he lets go of Y/N.

"Kay, I gotta put a bag together," he sighs, "I'll be right back."

He turns to head for the door, and Y/N doesn't take her eyes off him until he disappears into the building. She blinks her eyes and turns to face Dean. He pushes himself off the back of the car and silently heads for the driver seat.

Sam and Y/N sit in the car at a gas station while Dean heads for snacks. Sam opens his door but quickly looks over his shoulder to check on Y/N. This is when he notices the box of tapes sitting next to her. Intrigued, he shifts in the chair and asks her to hand them to him. Y/N is hesitant because it's hard to say how Dean would react, and she's always hated being in the middle of their fights but does so anyway. Sam rests his tongue between his lips as he takes the box from Y/N. Stretching his legs out of the car, he rests the box in his lap to filter through them.

"Hey," Dean says from behind the Impala, his mouth wrapped around a candy bar, "either of you want breakfast?" he asks, holding a soda and a bag of chips.

Y/N waits for Sam to answer first. "No, thanks," he says, glancing Dean's way momentarily.

"I do," Y/N smiles.

"So how'd you pay for that stuff? Three of you still running credit card scams?" Sam says, going back to looking through the cassettes.

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career," Dean says, putting the gas nozzle back into the pump.

Y/N chimes in, "Besides, all we do is apply," she shrugs, "it's not our fault they send us the cards."

"Yeah? And what names did you write on the applications this time?" he asks, swinging his legs back inside the car and closing the door behind him.

"Uh, Burt Aframian," Y/N answers. Dean gets into the seat, handing Y/N the drink and chips. "Thank you," she chirps.

"And his son Hector," Dean adds, "scored two cards out of the deal."

"Sounds about right. I swear, man. You've gotta update your cassette tape collection."

Dean frowns, nearly offended. "Why?"

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes, and two," Sam holds one up, "Black Sabbath? Motorhead?" he says, dropping them to grab another, "Metallica?" he laughs, "It's the greatest hits of mullet rock," he says as Dean rips the Metallica tape from his hand with a glare.

"Well, house rules, Sammy." Dean pops the tape into the player with a tight smile, "driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cake-hole," he says, dropping the empty case into the box. "Isn't that right, Y/N?" he smirks into the rear-view mirror and smiles when he sees her roll her eyes.

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old," Sam scolds, "it's Sam, okay?"

Turning the volume up, Dean cocks his head to the side, "sorry. I can't hear you. The music's too loud," he says with a slight chuckle.

Crashing a crime scene where police are still investigating is just another Saturday with Dean for Y/N, but seeing Sam's eyes widen at the box of Dean's fake IDs calls attention to how out of the norm this life is. Dean makes wise-ass comments to the cops, as usual, and Sam stomps on Dean's foot. Dean responds by smacking Sam's head as they bicker on the way back to the car, but Y/N can't help but grin from ear to ear.

Even when her brothers are arguing, Y/N couldn't possibly be happier. Today is her first hunt with both of her brothers and the first time in far too long since the three of them had been together for any reason.

They make their way to find Amy, who they learn is the girlfriend of the victim from listening to the cops on the bridge. They stop her while she's putting up missing posters, and after lying about being distant relatives of her boyfriend, they ask if she'd be willing to answer some questions to find him.

… "It's kind of this local legend," Amy's friend says after a few minutes of chatting. Massaging her thumb with her other hand, she continues, "This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago." Dean glances over at Sam and Y/N, who listen intently, "Well, supposedly, she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever."

At a local library, Dean searches the archive page for any murders on Centennial Highway with no results. Sam shoves Dean's chair, and when it rolls back, he scoots his chair to the computer to take over, earning him a slap from Dean. After replacing 'murder' with 'suicide,' a news article pops up.

"This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river," Sam reads.

"Does it say why she did it?" Y/N asks, scooting her chair closer to Sam to try and read the screen.

"Yeah," Sam says.

"What?" Dean says with raised eyebrows.

"An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Apparently, her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing." Sam lets out a breath, "both die," he says in a whisper.

The air grows thick around them, and Y/N frowns. "That's terrible," she says, shaking her head.

"'Our babies were gone,'" Sam reads, "'and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband Joseph Welch."

"Hmm," Dean points to the picture on the screen, "that bridge look familiar to you?"

They hit the bridge at nightfall. Crickets sing to water drumming against the rocks as it rushes under their feet. The clouds hang low in the sky, giving the air around them a haze.

"So," Dean says, peering over the bridge at the water, "this is where Constance took the swan dive," he says, leaning against the rail next to Y/N. 

"So you think Dad would have been here?" Sam asks in disbelief, looking over at Dean. 

"Well, he's chasing the same story, and we're chasing him," Dean shrugs, turning to walk down the bridge. 

Sam turns to follow. "Okay, so now what?" he says, forcing a breath through his nose. Y/N walks right next to him, still scared to let him out of her sight. 

"Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while," Dean grumbles. 

Sam stops walking, "Dean," he says, raising his hands before dropping them. "I told you. I've gotta be back by Monday." 

"Monday," Dean says, pivoting to make grueling eye contact with Sam, but only turns his body enough that he's still facing the bridge's railing. "Right," he says, shaking a finger, "the interview." The bridge creaks under him as he turns the rest of the way. 

"Yeah," Sam nods. 

"Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Dean says, shifting his weight between his feet. "You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?" Dean asks, the animosity growing with each word. 

Sam shrugs, "maybe. Why not?" 

Dean's voice roughens, "Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know the things you've done?" 

Sam takes a few threatening steps toward Dean, "No, and she's not ever going to know," he scowls. 

"Well, that's healthy," Dean sneers. "You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later, you're going to have to face up to who you really are," he says, turning around to continue walking. 

Sam huffs, "Who's that?" 

"You're one of us," Dean shrugs, a hand gesturing towards Y/N. 

"Hey! Leave me out of this," Y/N grumbles from ahead. 

"No," Sam says, speed walking towards Dean, "I'm not like you," he says, turning around as he stops in front of Dean. "This is not going to be my life."

Dean keeps his jaw tight. "Well, you have a responsibility to..." 

Y/N feels the tension rising and tries to plead with them to stop arguing, but they ignore her. "Guys!" she shouts again. 

"To Dad? And his crusade?" Sam scoffs. "If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like! And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her," he shakes his head, "Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back." 

Dean grips Sam's shirt and swings him around and against the bridge's railing with a clunk at Sam's weight against it. 

Y/N flips around and runs to their side, "Dean, what are you doing? Are you crazy?" She panics. But Dean continues to ignore her as he glares at Sam. 

After a long, breathless pause, Y/N shouts again, "Dean!" 

The misty air is still between them, and even the wind seems too frightened to move. It's as if the world is put on pause.

Dean's eyebrows raise, and he keeps a firm grip on Sam's shirt. Under his breath, he says, "Don't talk about her like that." 

He throws Sam's jacket from his hands and takes a few stabilizing steps backward in one movement. Y/N runs to check on Sam, who shakes her off with an "I'm fine" that sounds muffled compared to the pounding of her heart. A few tears escape her when she looks over at Dean walking away from them, but she doesn't realize she's crying until the taste of salt hits her lips. 

Her eyes return to Sam, shaking her head in disgust that Dean would treat him like that. She knew it had been rough for Dean since Sam left for college, but hell, it's been hard on her, too, and she's not throwing anyone against the side of a bridge!

Dean halts, “Sam. Y/N!” he calls. Y/N turns with a full-body glare, but her eyes widen when she sees a woman in a long, white dress standing on the bridge's railing. The woman looks over at them, and Y/N can see the resemblance to the picture of Constance. The woman's hair and dress sway in the wind, and she keeps her eyes on them as she allows herself to drop from the ledge. 

With a grunt, Sam rushes to the railing to look over it for her, Dean and Y/N not far behind him. 

"Where'd she go?" Dean barks. 

Breathless, Sam pushes out an "I don't know." 

The roar of the Impala's engine turning on startles them, their bodies whipping around just in time to see the headlights flick on. 

"What the-," Dean says. 

"Who's driving your car?" Y/N asks. 

Without taking his eyes off of the car, Dean pulls his keys from his pocket and jingles them, stealing Sam and Y/N's attention to them in unison. The engine revs, drawing back their wide eyes to the Impala. The tires squeal as the car begins to speed towards them. 

"Y/N, go! Go!" Dean says with a hand on each of his siblings, spinning them around to run in the opposite direction. Dean presses his hand firmly on Y/N's back as they run, keeping himself between her and the car. They run as fast as they can until Dean can feel the Impala's breath on his ankles, and he guides them towards the bridge's railing. 

Y/N's heart feels like a brick in her chest, weighing her down at the thought of jumping over. "I can't," she says in a breath, and all in a split second, she feels like her feet are cemented into the bridge's planks as Sam jumps over. "No!" she screams as Dean grips onto her arm, pulling them both over the bridge. 

Sam hangs from the ledge of the bridge, shouting for Y/N as her screams are washed out with a big splash. "Y/N!" he calls again from the back of his throat, climbing up the bridge to get on his knees. He looks over the bridge, scanning for Y/N and Dean, calling out when he sees his brother, "Dean! You alright?" 

"I'm super," Dean grumbles with an outstretched thumbs up. Lying on his back, half submerged in the muddy water. 

"I can't see Y/N! Where's Y/N?" Sam panics, and when the words hit Dean's ears, he springs to his feet in a second. He whirls around in a circle as he searches for her. 

"Y/N!" Dean shouts, wiping mud from his face. He paces around, "Y/N, where are you?" he yells, half-expecting her to pop out from behind a bush to scare him. 

The world spins around him for a moment, utterly void of sound aside from a ringing in his ears as Dean tries to comprehend what is happening. He closes his eyes tight, shaking his head to clear away the fog that covers him. They open onto the water, catching the moon's glimmer reflecting off something. He runs towards it, hopping from rock to rock until he finds Y/N's broken locket stuck in algae. Dean picks it up with shaky hands, recalling how her face lit up when he first gave it to her. She'd be devastated to see its state now. Fear spills down him in an icy chill.

His head swivels around in search of her. Tears, that he refuses to let fall, poke at his eyes when he sees her lying face down in the water, a bloody rock next to her.

“Y/N!” He shouts, rushing to her. He kneels to pull her out of the water by her shoulder, turning her over so that her back rests against his knee. "Y/N!" he yells again, and when she doesn't respond, he grabs her by the waist and hoists her over his shoulder. He grunts, shifting his weight before jogging for the shore. "Sam! I got her!" 

"Dean! Is she okay?" He calls out as he sprints down the side of the hill to catch up to them. The brothers reach the shore simultaneously, and Dean drops to his knees to gently set Y/N on the ground in front of him, Sam following suit. 

"Come on, be okay, be okay, be okay, be okay," Dean pleads softly, placing two fingers on her neck. His heart is beating so hard that he can't tell if it's her pulse he's feeling or his own. "Sam, I can't feel anything," he says. Dropping an ear to her mouth, he adds, "And I don't think she's breathing." 

"Call 911," Sam demands, ripping his jacket off to tie around Y/N's bleeding head wound. He quickly inspects the rest of her body for any bleeding before placing a hand on her chest. Looking up at Dean, who stands frozen, Sam puts his free hand on Dean's shoulder, "now, Dean!" he shouts, shoving him. 

Sam tilts Y/N's head back, checking again for a pulse, a breath, a twitch, a shudder, anything that meant he wouldn't have to perform CPR on his baby sister. He places his hands on her chest, one over the other, pausing in case her heart miraculously started again, but all he feels under his palms is the stillness of Y/N's wet and cold chest. 

Sam begins chest compressions, and the tears he'd been holding back rush out uncontrollably when he feels her ribs break under his palms. It makes him want to pull away, but he forces himself to continue. Dean watches in wide-eyed horror as he gives the 911 operator their location when asked, keeping his free hand pressed against his forehead. 

"Anything?" he shakily shouts at Sam after what feels like hours. Sam ignores him, counting out loud until he hits thirty again. He stops compressions to blow a shuddering breath into Y/N's mouth, watching her chest rise and fall before delivering another. "Hello! Is anybody on the way? My sister is dying here!" Dean shouts into the phone, but all that meets his ears is static. 

"Dean," Sam says with a heavy breath, beginning compressions again. "You gotta take over," he says between breaths. 

Without question, Dean drops his phone to the ground as he falls to his knees next to her, "come on, Y/N," he pleads, ignoring the burning in his knees as he places his hands together on top of Sam's. Sam leaves his hands under Dean's for just one compression before pulling away. 

"Okay, that's ten. You've got twenty more before breaths," Sam says before they count out loud together with every push into Y/N's chest. 

Dean is growing tired by his third round of compressions, but the sirens in the distance electrify him, giving him the energy he needs to continue. 

His face scrunches up as he musters the emotional and physical strength to keep going. Sam hurries to his feet, "don't stop, Dean, you're doing great!" he says with a palm at him. 

"Don't stop," Dean repeats mindlessly, "don't stop." 

Sprinting towards the paramedics, Sam waves his arms, shouting, "Down here! We're down here!" before he knows it, a group of professionals sprint down the hill, the gurney in tow. One takes a story from Sam as one tries to pull Dean away so the other two can take over caring for Y/N. 

"No, I can't stop!" he cries, which grabs Sam's attention, "don't stop," he nearly whispers, hands pumping into Y/N's chest. 

Sam rushes over and lowers himself to Dean's level. "Dean, let go. It's okay, they'll take it from here," he says, grabbing onto Dean's hands to pull him off of Y/N. They watch the paramedics in shock as they cut the shirt, bra, and pants off of Y/N, inspecting her skin. The first responders put what look like stickers with wires attached to them onto her chest and pull out the AED, telling everyone to stand clear before delivering a shock with a beep. Then, there was a pause and the silence that follows is deafening. Nothing. They check for a pulse and call clear again, shocking her. Then, nothing. Again. 

In the hospital's hallway, Dean tries to tune out the surround sound of constant beeping. His elbows rest on his scraped and bloody knees with his head held in his hands. He rocks back and forth, battling with himself. He sheds tears both out of fear for his sister's well-being and of guilt that he did the very thing he promised her he wouldn't: put her in danger.

The clacking of Sam's shoes pulls Dean from his homemade mental Hell. Dean lifts his head, quickly wiping his eyes before grabbing the cafeteria coffee. Sam's familiar smell of motel soap and deodorant washes away the torturous smell of hand sanitizer.

"Thanks," Dean mutters, taking a sip of the coffee before placing it next to him on the cold tile floor. 

Sam's eyes are red and puffy. Dean struggles to comprehend how Sam doesn't even try to hide the tears coming down. He often admires his brothers ability to wear his heart on his sleeve, though he'd never admit it. He wonders who he's being 'strong' for in this moment because it's certainly not himself.

Clearing his throat, Sam pulls his pants up slightly at the thighs before sitting on the bench next to Dean. He glances up at the ceiling momentarily, waiting for the announcement to end before asking, "Any news yet?"

Dean shakes his head. "No," he says in a raspy voice, forcing his eyes to look up and down the hall. "Excuse me," he says, standing to interrupt a nurse before she can enter a different room. "Would you mind helping us find whoever we need to talk to for an update on room 221?" he asks, gesturing to the door he hasn't been able to even look at since arriving.

Her eyes flutter to Sam, then the door, and back to Dean before she somberly nods. "Of course," she says, setting her pen back onto the clipboard as she turns to head in the direction she came.

Dean wants to return to his seat, but his body feels like an anchor. He sucks in a sharp breath. His shoulders tighten into his neck and with weak arms his hands fall to his hips. He hangs his head, clenching his teeth and pulling his face to suppress the tears. Sam jumps up to Stand with Dean, placing a hand tightly on his shoulder.

"She'll be alright," Sam says, not fully believing himself, "she's a Winchester; she has to be." 

Dean quickly straightens himself out because damn it, he's the one that's supposed to be taking care of his younger siblings - not the other way around.

"Sam and Dean Winchester?" a deep voice echoes the hall and they whirl around to greet the doctor. Dean quickly slaps the tears from his face. "I'm Dr. Ferguson," he says, holding his arm up to shake hands with Sam, then Dean. "Let's go somewhere more private to talk."

"We're good here," Dean spits. 

"Very well," the doctor sighs, looking down the hall behind him. He shuffles them closer to the wall and out of the traffic flow. "Well, while we were able to restart her heart, I'm afraid your sister has sustained a substantial injury to the head," he says, "the trauma caused the tissue around her brain to swell quite rapidly, and well, we have her on a ventilator, but," he lets out a breath, "we haven't seen as much progress as we were hoping for. She's technically in a coma right now, but we hope to see her come out of it in the coming weeks." 

"Weeks?" Dean bellows.

"Yes, I'm afraid that's standard recovery time for an injury of this magnitude. Although, we'd be having an entirely different conversation if not for your quick thinking in the field," he says with a tight-lipped smile, eyes jumping from Dean's to Sam's, "it's a long road to recovery, but this is a good start." 

"And what happens if she doesn't wake up?" Sam asks. 

"We will do everything in our power to ensure that doesn't happen," the doctor nods. 

"Thanks, doc," Sam croaks. "Can - can we see her?" he stutters. 

"Of course," he says, pushing the door open with his fingertips, "go on in," he says.  

Sam immediately notices Dean's hesitancy when they exchange a glance, so he nods before taking a few steps into the room. He covers his mouth to stifle a sob when he sees his little sister with a tube down her throat and one in her nose. When he's close enough, he reaches for her hand and sits in the chair beside her, startled by the sound of the door shutting. Dean slowly enters the room, but keeps his distance.

Dean feels like the air is void of oxygen and tells himself to pull it together enough to stand by her bed. "Hey kiddo," Dean says to Y/N with a shaky breath. "God, please be okay," he says, forcing a smile as he grips onto her hand.

The two sit with Y/N for days, only leaving for bathroom trips and snack runs, but when one goes, the other stays, and when one is napping, the other is awake. Dean has grown slightly more self-composed but is still anxious as they stay by her side, even when the nurses come to deliver medications, chart vitals, or empty her catheter.

"Hey, Dean," Sam says, clearing his throat. 

"Yeah," he replies, keeping his eyes on Y/N. 

Sam looks down into his hands, "about my interview-" 

"Wait, what?" Dean says, cutting him off, "you're still gonna leave after all this?" he shouts through a clenched jaw. The chair scoots back in a screech as he quickly brings himself to his feet, "you don't wanna be here when she wakes up?" he asks, aggressively gesturing at Y/N. 

"Dean, we don't even know if she'll wake up," Sam quivers. 

"Man, you are a piece of work," Dean shouts, shaking his head. 

"If you would've let me finish," Sam growls with narrow eyes, "I was going to say that I called earlier… to reschedule it," he sighs, looking back at Y/N, "they were very understanding of the situation." 

"Oh," Dean says, turning on his heels to face away from Sam. He swipes a hand down his face, shaking his head when his eyes open to the white walls of the hospital's room. "Look, man, I'm sorry," he says, palms open and facing Sam. "This just has me on edge." 

Taking a few steps towards him, Sam holds back the urge to get nasty with Dean, telling him he's not the only one feeling 'on edge' about their sister's condition. Instead, he raises his palms and softens his face, "Me too. Believe me." 

By Thursday, Y/N had graduated from a ventilator to an oxygen mask. Though still needing the feeding tube, she's shown glimpses here and there of the Y/N they know and love, but overall, she struggles to remain conscious. The doctors are calling it a 'Minimally Conscious State' and "completely normal with this type of recovery."

On Saturday, Sam heads out for food from a local restaurant at Dean's request - something about them having good pies - but Sam has a sneaking suspicion that Dean needs some time alone with Y/N, and Sam could use the fresh air anyway.

Sitting in the chair beside her bed, Dean holds one of Y/N's hands in both of his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the back of her hand. "I'm so sorry I failed you, Y/N," he cries. "I should have been protecting you," he whispers, letting the tears fall freely now, "but instead of doing that, I got you into this mess."

Looking up at Y/N's face, he swears he sees a tear slip down her cheek. Despite being convinced he's imagining it, he reflexively draws his hand to wipe her tear away, gasping when it comes back wet. His heart races as he gently stands to get beside her in the bed. "Shh," he coos, wrapping his arm around her.

His eyes fall shut, and he's transported back in time to the almost seven-month period where she would only fall asleep if Dean were right there in bed next to her. Through tears and voice cracks, he sings Hey Jude in a whisper, occasionally reaching over to wipe her tears away.

"I love you so much," he whispers. "I don't know how to live without you," he says, his tears turning into sobs. "Please wake up," he cries, arm wrapped tightly around her, "I promise I'll teach you how to drive if you just please wake up."

~~~~ If you liked my story, please remember to heart, comment or reblog. Or if you'd like, you can add yourself to a tag list here if you wish :) Thank you for reading!! :)

Everything Tags <3

@wayardblueshun @81mysteriouslyme @drakelover78 @soab1967 @shutupandfeedmethings @pollywantacracker666 @sonnierae26 @obsessed5sosfreak @tlovescoffee @noodledoodlebug @hobby27 @cluz1babe @emptycanvasposts @suckmyapplejacks @signrunsavestheday @flamencodiva @roseblue373

Dean <;3 @akshi8278 @squirrelnotsam @laxe-from-outer-space @ellewritesfix05 @cluz1babe @lyarr24 @mrspeacem1nusone @idksupernaturl @fandom-princess-forevermore @stoneyggirl @chaospossum @nachofriess

Sam <3 (not including the tags already above :) ) @fangirlxwritesx67 @immafangirlmess @sizekinkshawty

#supernatural #dean winchester #spn #supernatural fandom #supernatural fan fic #little sister Winchester #angst #supernatural dean winchester #sister!winchester #3rd person pov

[bonebabbles]

Ok. Fun scooby-doo jokes are over. Time for a graphic birthing scene as Star Flower enters premature labor after being starved for days and running to get away from a bunch of stinky, dirty rogues.

The writers will see a woman character and ask, "Is anyone going to describe the pain and viscera in intense, obsessive detail?" and not even wait

*Shrek voice* she doesn't even get the birthing stick

(under a cut because eurgh)

It's gotta be super dramatic, to really tease the audience with the idea that Clear Sky might lose a third pregnant wife for his pain.

Star Flower has been put through such INTENSE torment to make Clear Sky feel bad and rally the cats to come together to help him out that it's taken me out of it completely.

Gray Wing also realizes he's been thinking about Star Flower too much, while she's bleeding out and giving birth several weeks early after escaping Slash's Torment Nexus, so he takes a moment to rotate his brother around in his head for a bit.

"He'd been so panicked about Star Flower that he hadn't thought about his brother," who is apparently going to get set upon by a band of Slash's angry rogues all alone in this fantasy daydream Gray Wing has conjured up in his head.

Like, apparently Clear Sky is going to leave the meeting with Slash, get told about the secret plan to rescue Star Flower which was happening concurrently (already happened; we saw this), then jump up and run from what everyone's told him, bolt towards a camp he doesn't know the location of, and a patrol of Slash's warriors are going to find him?

ok.

Anyway then all the women come together to midwife for Star Flower.

And then Clear Sky and Star Flower cuddle around the new kits and act all cute. The "pure love" in Clear Sky's eyes is focused on, everyone recommends he takes extra good care of his premature kits, etc. He's So Totally Changed Now, through the magic of wife and babies.

All I'm thinking about is how he kills one of these children later, by refusing to allow Acorn Fur to complete her training and throwing a tantrum about how "SkyClan doesn't ask for help unless we have no choice!" when she tells him she can't treat his son's fox-inflicted mauling alone.

One more patented brother moment between Clear Sky and Gray Wing

I'm just gonna be honest, man... I hear from a LOT of people that this tugs at their heartstrings, so maybe I just don't "get it." But this WHOLE series long, Gray Wing has pissed himself over how Clear Sky can't have possibly "changed that much" from when they were children, won't accept that he's a child-beating and woman-slaughtering tyrant, IMMEDIATELY jumps to his defense at every turn even when it's ridiculous, and here's the payoff.

Hugging and sniffing his Dear Brother and having a flashback to them being babies at their mother's breast, secure in the knowledge he was right all along.

That every time he downplayed abuse, shoved people towards a situation where they'd be in danger, or prevented others from recognizing Clear Sky as the threat he was, he was correct that Clear Sky, in contrast to the EEEVIL rogues, was a good boy. Nothing about Clear's behavior has actually changed besides having MORE children to endanger.

This is chapter SIX of the LAST BOOK and we already saw Clear Sky using abuse tactics earlier to try and manipulate Thunder into doing what he wants.

So, I can't sympathize with the "heartwarming" reaction. "Ohh it's so sweet that the dear brothers are having flashbacks to when they were 6" I cannot relate. Idk how you can watch AMVs of this without wanting to set them both on fire. Thunder should get a restraining order.

#Btw winner of funniest song is Sneaky Snitch #That wins #That is objectively the funniest song to play during that scene #Kevin MacLeod Wins #Btw I didn't really post or get into it because it was really generic besides like... leaf starts yowling as a distraction #Which I've chosen to interpret as his attempt at bird noises #Because it is a LOT funnier to imagine him going “CA CAWWWWWWWWWW” as the guards are just. deeply confused. #They break in to save starf and she's like 'there's two more guards!' and then there's two more guards. #Then they run. This was apparently a genius plan. #Meme of Thunder's two paws and he's holding TWO restraining orders #dotc hate #bones reads dotc

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita/wibta for NOT breaking up with my bf ?

i'm not sure if the title is phrased weirdly, bare with me. my bf and i are both 18, he is cis M & i am FTM (relevant).

My bf and i are both currently in first year uni, both living at home due to high cost of living in our country (also everywhere else lol). We met about halfway through highschool, and were friends for a while before getting together. we are coming up on two years together in a couple months, and have not really had any major bumps in our relationship. we see eachother i would say 1-2x per week, with both of us living at home and being broke it gets a little challenging sometimes but we call most nights and generally we make it work. Also worth noting that I am my bf's first everything, down to his first kiss, while he is not really this for me. this is the longest relationship i have been in (probably because i'm 18 lol), but not at all the first. however, the only "serious" relationship i have had outside of of him, aside from just casual stuff, was very abusive & toxic, so i do sort of see us on equal footing as neither of us has ever been in a normal, functional relationship before.

Now, the issue: while we are both currently living at home, i see this as a very temporary arrangement and something i am counting down the days until i can get out of. while living with my family is not abusive or anything, it is just very straining as i am not very close with them, and also cannot transition while living at home. as previously mentioned i am ftm, and while my mom is tolerant it would just put even more stress on the relationship if i were to start changing physically while living at home or even asking her to use different pronouns for me and is just something i prefer to leave until i'm not 100% reliant on her. that being said my dysphoria causes me very intense depression and without getting too detailed, i don't know how much longer i can take living here and putting off any sort of meaningful transition outside of close/online friends calling me he.

my bf, however, plans to live at home at least until he graduates, which is six years away. i understand that this is a very normal thing, especially culturally (he is middle eastern + muslim, i am white + agnostic), but the issue is that his mother is, among many other things, extremely homophobic. she already hates me for reasons i'm not really sure of (my bf refuses to go into detail, i think to protect me, but i have seen extremely graphic and nasty texts about me by name on his phone and have been told by him that he doesn't even mention me around the house or else she gets extremely upset, though she is always extremely nice to me the few times we have interacted), but anyways, me transitioning while he is still living at home would be essentially putting him in legitimate danger.

my bf does not like to think about this, which i understand. it's hard enough dealing with what i get from my family, and that is absolutely nothing compared to the fact that everyone he knows from his culture/religion beleives he should be dead just because he is gay (i know, as does he, that there are queer muslims. but they do not exist openly in his personal community). but the problem is that anytime i adress to him that the idea of waiting until we are in our mid-twenties for me to even think about transitioning is a really big issue for me he basically refuses to talk about it and just says that "it will work out". on top of the transitioning thing i just generally don't want to be twenty-five (the age he has told me is when he plans to move out) and still having to cancel dates last minute because my boyfriend's mom was in a bad mood and decided he's not allowed to go out tonight. i know this is how life is for many people and they learn to deal with it! and i respect them very much! but it is genuinely my nightmare. i understand why he cannot/does not want to cut himself off from his family, especially since his dad lives overseas and is extremely wealthy so therefore paying his entire tuition out of pocket. i'm just saying it's not a lifestyle that meshes well with my future plans.

this is where the asshole part comes in: my bf genuinely thinks that we are going to spend the rest of our lives together. this started with small comments, things like alluding to the idea of our potential future kids (i love kids and raising my own is genuinely my end goal in life, something he knows just because i am very open about it), or talking about our future apartment/house, but now is basically just a constant conversation in our relationship. i try not to feed into it, but i also feel badly responding to his sweet comment when i point out a house i like on the street about how we'll buy it one day with something about how i don't ever see that happening. i generally just respond neutrally, but i will admit i get caught up in the fantasy sometimes and contribute to it as well.

he is such a lovely guy with a beautiful heart and i do really adore him, and it's not a situation where i don't want to spend the rest of my life with him. to be honest, that's the dream. i love him with everything i have and i would literally do anything for him. the problem is just that when he talks about this future together all i can picture is all the million ways our relationship is doomed to implode.

but we are happy right now, because me moving out of my family home is not something that is going to be possible for another 1-2 years, so none of those issues are something that are going to come up right now. i just forsee them being pretty much impossible obstacles between us and spending the rest of our lives together down the line. but i have this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that even though i want more than anything to be with him forever, the fact that i don't remotely beleive it's something that will actually work out still constitutes as leading him on.

so, am i the asshole for staying with him, because we are happy right now and these issues are not going to be relevant for another 1-2 years, and a solution might somehow present itself in that time? or is the right thing to do to just leave now, and rip off the bandaid?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole