#i want to have the series' worth by the time its over

[dianawinchester03]

Season 1, Episode 18 - Something Wicked

Series Masterlist

Authors Note: Comment with your handle/username if you want to be added to a tag list so you can be notified everytime I update.

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Third Person POV

"Yeah. Because you guys probably missed something, that's what" Dean says to Sam and Y/N, discussing a possible case as he drives down the empty road. Sam riding shotgun while Y/N lounges in that back. "Dude, we ran LexisNexis, local police records, newspapers. Couldn't find a single red flag" Sam explains to him defensively. "Are you sure you got the coordinates right?" Y/N pipes up from the back, leaning forward in between the boys.

"Yeah. I double checked. It's Fitchburg, Wisconsin. F/N wouldn't have sent coordinates if it wasn't important, guys" Dean assures them. Y/N sighs, leaning back, crossing her arms over her chest as she worries about her father and John. "Well I'm telling you? We looked. All we found was a big, steamy pile of nothing. If Dad and John are sending us to hunt for something, I don't know what" Y/N says defensively.

"Well maybe they'll meet us there" Dean says. Sam chuckles humorlessly as Y/N scoffs. "Yeah. Cuz they've been so easy to find up to this point" Sam says sarcastically. "You two are real smartasses, you know that?" Dean retorts at them. The younger hunters just shake their heads in annoyance. "Don't worry, I'm sure there's something in Fitchburg worth killing" Dean assures them.

"Yeah? What makes you so sure?" Y/N asks him. "Well, because I'm the oldest, which means I'm always right" He counters, flashing her a wink in the rearview mirror. "No, it doesn't" Sam scoffs. "It totally does" Dean gives them a cheeky smile. "Dean, you're the most childish of the three of us" Y/N says dryly, Sam nods in agreement as Dean chuckles at her point.

"I'm still older" Dean counters again. Sam and Y/N roll their eyes, not bothering to argue. "Whatever man" Sam waves it off as Dean smirks to himself, now passing the sign leading into Fitchburg, Wisconsin.

Fitchburg, Wisconsin

"Well" Y/N says, walking to the boys who're leaning on the Impala outside of a coffee shop. She hands them each a coffee as she continues. "The waitress thinks that the local Freemasons are up to something sneaky, but other than that, nobodys heard about anything weird going on" She informs them.

"Dean, you got the time?" Sam suddenly asks Dean. We look at him confused as he stares intently at the playground we're parked across from. "Ten after four" Dean responds after looking at his watch. "Why?" Y/N asks Sam. "What's wrong with this picture?" He nods towards the practically empty playground, only a few kids running around and it dawns on her.

"Schools out, isn't it?" Dean voices her thought. "Yeah" Sam responds. "So where is everybody?" I question. "This place should be crawling with kids right now" Sam says in agreement. Y/N and Dean decide to approach a mom sitting on the bench across from the monkey bars. "Sure is quiet out here" Dean says casually. The mom looks up at at, "Yeah, it's a shame." She says sorrowfully.

"Why's that?" Y/N asks curiously. "You know, kids getting sick. It's a terrible thing" She says, me and Dean share a look at this. "How many?" Dean asks. "Just five or six, but serious. Hospital serious. A lot of parents are getting pretty anxious. They think it's catching" She informs them. "Hmm" Y/N responds, her mind racing about these kids getting sick.

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Y/N's POV

Later, the boys and I are walking into the hospital, dressed in our formal wear. The boys in their suit and ties while I'm in my white blouse, black blazer and pencil skirt. My hair neatly pinned back, opposed to its usual state. "Guys, Im not using this ID" Sam complains, holding up his fake ID to us.

"Why not?" Dean asks him. "Because it says 'bikini inspector' on it" Sam argues and  I bite back a snicker. "Don't worry. She won't look that close" I assure him. "Hell, she won't even ask to see it. It's all about confidence, Sammy" Dean adds as we walk down the hall, towards the reception desk.

Dean then turns him quickly to face the receptionist. We walk up a bit further, where we can hear them still. "I think she's gonna ask you know" I whisper to Dean. "I'm counting on it" Dean whispers back, a mischievous smirk on his face. I chuckle softly, shaking my head. Sam had a bit of a panicked look on his face but quickly recover. "Hi. I'm Doctor Jerry Kaplan, Center for Disease Control" Sam says professionally.

"Can I see some ID?" The receptionist asks. Me and Dean are listening from not too far and snort in amusement, sharing looks as we hold back our laughs. Sam turns back to glare at us lightly, before turning back to the receptionist and giving her a smug look, going into his jacket back. "Yeah, of course" He says, planting a fake smile on his face. He then shows her the ID quickly.

"Now, could you direct me to the pediatrics ward, please?" He asks him. "Okay, well just go down the hall. Turn left. Up the stairs" She says, Sam gives her a grateful smile before walking back to us. His smile dropping to an angry glare in me and Deans direction. "See? Told you it'd work" Dean says playfully. Sam rolls his eyes as I snicker. "Follow me, it's upstairs" Sam tells us, ushering us upstairs.

While walking upstairs, Sam is ahead of us. Me and Dean notice an old woman with gray hair in a room, sitting on her wheelchair. Her back to us. She slowly turns her head to us, a grim look on her face. My breath hitches when I notice a cross turnt upside down on the wall above her.

I nudge Dean lightly and gesture to it. His eyebrows raised at this, while the woman gives us a cold murderous look. "Dean. Y/N." Sam calls out to us, our gazes snapping back to him. He's a few feet away from us and he gesture for us to catch up with him. We share a look before following behind Sam.

We finally met up with the doctor in charge of the Peds ward. "Thanks for seeing us, Dr. Heidecker" I thank the doctor sweetly. "Well, I'm just glad you guys are here. I was just about to call CDC myself" Dr. Heidecker says. "How'd you find out anyway?" He asks us curiously. "Oh, some G.P. I forget his name. He called Atlanta and must've beat you to the punch" Dean lies casually.

"So you say you've got six cases so far?" Sam asks him as we walk to the room where their quarantining the kids. "Yeah, yeah. Five weeks. At first, we thought it was garden variety bacterial pneumonia. Not that newsworthy" The doctor explains as I look at the sick children on the beds. Their eyes dark with circles, tubes in their noses to help them breathe, paler than snow. My heart aches at the sight.

"But now..." The doctor trails off. "Now what?" I ask him concerned. "The kids aren't responding to antibiotics. Their white cell counts keep going down. Their immune systems just aren't doing their job. It's like their bodies are wearing out" He explains. "Excuse me, Dr. Heidecker?" A nurse approach him as Sam asks.

"You ever seen anything like this before?" Sam asks as the nurse hands the doctor a clipboard. "Never this severe" Dr. Heidecker says sighing. "The way it spreads, that's a new one for me" The nurse says. "What do you mean?" I ask her. "It works it way through families, but only the children, one sibling after another" She further explains, the boys and I share a look before Dean turns to her.

"You mind if we interview a few of the kids?" He asks her. "They're not conscious" She sighs sadly, this shocks all of us. "None of them?" I ask surprised. "No" She says, shaking her head. "Can we, um. Can we talk to the parents?" Dean asks her. The doctor and nurse share a look, "If you think it'll help" Dr. Heidecker says. "Yeah, yeah. Who was your most recent admission?" I ask him.

"I should get back to my girls" The dad of two little girls says sadly as we attempt interview him. I give him a sympathetic nod with a small smile, taking a seat next to him as the boys stand infront of us. "We understand that, and we really appreciate you talking to us" I say calmly, offering him a kind smile.

"Now you say Mary is the oldest?" Sam asks him gently. "Thirteen" The man answers. "Okay. And she came down with it first, right? And then-" Sam asks him. "Bethany, the next night" The man answers, this shocks me again at the rapid spread-age. "Within 24 hours?" I ask him and he nods. "I guess" He shrugs before sighing.

"Look, I already went through all this with the doctor." The man begins to get a bit frustrated. "Right. Now, just a few more questions, if you don't mind" Dean attempts to reassure him. "How do you think they caught pneumonia? Were they out in the cold? Anything like that?" He asks the man but he shakes his head. "No, we think it was an open window" The man responds.

"Both times?" I ask him. He thinks for a bit before answering, "The first time, I don't really remember. But the second time, for sure. And I know I closed it before I put Bethany to bed." He says. "So you think she opened it?" Sam asks him, a bit confused.

"It's a second story window, no ledge. No one else could've" The man informs us. We nod and thank him for his time before leaving. "Thank you sir" I say sweetly, the boys following behind me.

"You know, this might not be anything supernatural. Might just be pneumonia" Sam suggests to us as we walk down the hall. "Maybe. Or maybe something open that window" Dean says. "I don't know fellas, the way these kids are getting sick so quickly. It's running through families and not by random. It's fishy" I say honestly. Dean agrees with me.

"Dad and F/N sent us down here for a reason. I think we're barking up the right tree" Dean says. "I'll tell you guys one thing" Sam says, we turn to him. "What?" Me and Dean ask in unison. "That guy we just talked to...I'm betting it'll be a while before he goes him" Sam says, a slight smirk on his face. We all share mischievous looks as Dean chuckles lightly.

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Later, after going through hospital records and getting the man's address, we're all in his daughters room, scanning and investigating. Sam with the black light, Dean and I with the EMF meters. "You two got anything over there?" Sam asks us as he scans the wall with the black light.

"No, nothing" I respond, slightly frustrated. "Nada" Dean responds. "Yeah, me neither" Sam sighs, equally frustrated. He then goes over to the window, scanning it. "Hey, Dean, Y/N?" He calls out to us. "Yeah?" We respond as he opens the window, looking down. "You guys were right. It's not pneumonia" Sam says, we take out EMFS off and walk to the window.

A handprint, that's literally rotted into the wood of the window sill. The fingers were abnormally long. "It's rotted" I point out, grimacing at we look down at it. "What the hell leaves a handprint like that?" Sam mutters. I notice a look of pain on Deans face when Sam says this, almost as if he's reminiscing on something.

Third Person POV

Flashback to the 80s'

In a dusty old motel room while waiting for his father and his fathers best friend/hunting partner, F/N L/N, to get ready to go on a hunt, a nine year old Dean Winchester is staring at a picture his father took on a hunt of a handprint, rotted into wood, the fingers abnormally long.

John and F/N step into the room. "Alright. You know the drill, Dean. Anybody calls, you don't pick up" John begins to list off the rules to his son, his tone a bit gruff. "If it's me or f/n. We'll ring once and then call back, you got that?" John reminds him as F/N rests his bag of weapons on the table.

"Mhm, don't answer the phone unless it rings once first" F/N instructs. "Mhm" Dean responds, nodding a bit lost in his mind. "Come on, son. Look alive this stuffs important" F/N urges him gently, patting him on the shoulder. Dean sighs. "I know, it's just. We've all gone over it, like, a million times, and you guys know I'm not stupid" He says.

"We know you're not, but it only takes one mistake. You got that?" John says, authority in his tone. All the young child could do is nod firmly at his father. F/N notices the way John is talking to Dean and felt a little bad. Getting down onto one knee to look at Dean, "Alright, if we're not back Sunday night-" He begins gently.

"Call Pastor Jim" Dean finishes his request. F/N gives him a proud smile, which Dean returns before patting him on the head. "Lock the door, the windows. Close the shades" John instructs Dean. "And most importantly?" He adds. "Watch out for Sammy and Y/N/N" Dean responds with a curt nod in understand.

He then turns to look at his little brother and y/n. The pair of best friends on the couch, watching Thundercats as they giggle, pointing at the old crummy screen. "I know" Dean nods. "Alright. Something tries to bust in?" F/N tests him.

"Shoot first, ask questions later" Dean answers. "That's my man" John says proudly, patting Dean on his shoulder. "Keep this with you." F/N digs into his bag to Dean a shotgun. "Only use it if necessary" F/N says sternly, pointing a finger at him in a fatherly way. Dean nods curtly. F/N then gets back up, following behind John.

The two vet hunters lock the door behind them and Dean turns the locks. He then looks over at Sam and Y/N who have goofy grins on their faces. He smiles at them slightly, knowing that if Y/N wasn't here, a smile wasn't sure to be on Sam's face as he was always a quiet kid.

But whenever his Dad and F/N went on hunts together and Y/N was around. Somehow with her ray of sunshine ass, she would make the boys happier. Whether it's by cracking a stupid joke or just being herself.

Present Time

"You okay, charming?" Y/N's gentle concerned tone snaps Dean out of his reminiscing. The pained look in Deans face concerned her. She placed a hand on his shoulder, comfortingly. This breaks him out of his train of thoughts, coming back to reality as he just relived that memory. He nods before saying, "I think why they sent us here" He says, a conflicted look on his face.

Y/N and Sam look at him confused. His nerves start to flare when he turns to them. "They've faced this thing before. And they want us to finish the job" Dean gulps as he says this, then after he explains to them what exactly they're dealing with.

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The three hunters pull into the '2400 Court Motel', Dean drives in and parks in the closest spot to the office. "So what the hell is a Shtriga?" Y/N asks Dean as they all jump off of the car, throwing her bag over her shoulder. "It's kind of like a witch, I think. They don't know that much about them" Dean says, going to the trunk to open it.

"Well I've never heard of it, neither has Y/N and it's not in Dads journal" Sam says. "Dad and F/N hunted one in Fort Douglas, Wisconsin about 16, 17 years ago." Dean informs them as he packs some stuff into his bag and zips it up. Y/N crosses her arms over her chest as she listens. "You guys were there. You don't remember?" Dean asks them.

"No" they respond in unison, shaking their heads. "I guess they caught wind of things in Fitchburg now, and kicked us the coordinates" Dean mumbles. "Wait, so this..." Sam begins, forgetting how to pronounce the creature's name. "Shtriga" Y/N answers. "Right. You think it's the same one they hunted before?" Sam asks him. Dean closes the trunk after taking out his bag. "Yeah, maybe" He says, walking to the room.

Y/N and Sam follow behind. "But if Dad and John went after it, why is it still breathing air?" Y/N asks Dean, knowing that John and her dad would never leave a hunt unfinished. "Because it got away" He simply answers. "Got away?" Sam says shocked. "Yeah, Sammy. It happens" Dean turns to them.

"Not very often" Y/N remarks. "Well I don't know what to tell you. Maybe Dad didn't have his Wheaties and F/N didn't take a smoke that morning" Dean says jokingly, Y/N snorts at the joke slightly but narrows her eyes at him. His defense behavior sending off red flags in her head. He knows more that he's letting on and he can't hide that from her.

"What else do you remember?" She asks him suspiciously. "Nothing. I was a kid, alright?" He says defensively, opening the door and walking in. Sam and Y/N share a look, "He's a terrible liar" Sam comments, shaking his head as he leans against the Impala. "No kidding" Y/N snorts dryly, leaning next to Sam.

She pulls out her pack of cigarettes from her jacket, taking one out and bringing it to her lips. Then digging into her pocket for her lighter. She flicks the lighter, inhaling the smoke into her lungs through her mouth and out her nose. A feeling and sensation of calmness engulfing her as the nicotine enters her bloodstream, the taste of tobacco staining her tongue.

She notices Sam's stare at her actions, "Want a pull, Sammy?" She jokes, he smiles chuckling. He contemplates for a second, "Why the hell not?" He shrugs, taking the cancer stick from between her fingers. He brings it to his lips, taking a pull. The smoke gets caught in his throat, causing him cough a bit as he exhales due to the fact that he practically never smokes unless he's drunk.

She snickers at her best friend as he coughs, his face turning red as she pats and rubs his back. Catching his breath, he hands her back the roll. "Note to self, only offer you when you're drunk" Y/N chuckles as Sam catches his breath. "Shut up" He grumbles, a bit embarrassed, but the two laugh about it.

Dean rings the bell at the counter and out comes a young boy, no older than 10 comes out and leans on the counter. "King or queens?" He asks Dean. "Three queens" Dean responds with a smile. The little boy looks out at Sam and Y/N, Sam coughing up a lung and Y/N rubbing his back as he coughs the smoke out.

"Yeah, I bet" The boy scoffs lightly, mumbling to himself. "What'd you say?" Dean realizes the kid was mumbling, getting defensive. "Nice car" The kid covers up his insult as the door opens, a woman walking in with a stack of papers. "Hi" She greets Dean. "Hi" Dean responds. "Checking in?" The woman, Joanna, asks him kindly.

"Yeah" Dean answers. Joanna smiles and then turns to the young boy, "Uh, do me a favor. Go get your brother some dinner" She tells the boy, now indicating it's her son. "I'm helping a guest" The boy says defensively. Dean smirks at the kid as his mother gives him a typical, 'Do what I said' look. "Three queens" The boy says bitterly, walking off as Dean chuckles.

"Funny kid" Dean says. "Oh, yeah. He thinks so" She chuckles as she sorts a room for them. "Will that be cash or credit?" She asks. "Do you take Mastercard?" Dean asks her. "Mmhm" she responds. "Perfect. Here you go" Dean places the card on the table as she hands him the clipboard to sign in.

He then looks over at the young boy and his little brother. The boy begins to pour some milk into a glass for his brother, this takes Dean back to an old memory of his.

Flashback to the 80s'

Dean pours two glasses of milk, handing one to little Sammy and little y/n/n. She takes the glass into her tiny hands, holding it between both her palms, taking a sip along with Sam before innocently asking. "When's daddy and Mr. Winchester gonna get back?". Dean gives her his usual answer as he goes to the stove, grabbing the pan of Scabetti Ohs, "Tomorrow" He tells her. "When?" Sam presses.

"I don't know. They usually come in late, though. Eat your dinner" Dean says as he pours some of the spaghetti into Sam's bowl and then Y/N's. "Thank you, Dean" She thanks him softly, smiling. He returns the smile, "You're welcome" He responds softly. "I'm sick of scabetti ohs" Sam groans as Y/N happily eats up her dinner. "Well, you're the one who wanted them" Dean says a bit frustrated.

"I want Lucky Charms" Sam argues. "There's no more Lucky Charms" Dean lies. "I saw the box" Sam points out. Dean rolls his eyes. "Okay, maybe there is. But there's only enough left for one bowl, and I haven't had any yet" Dean argues. Y/N takes in the banter between the two brothers as she chews contently at her food.

Feeling bad, knowing that Dean probably hadn't eaten all day but won't want to eat the spaghetti. Sam gives his brother his classic puppy dog eyes, the one he uses to get out of any situation or to get his way. Dean sighs and goes to take the bowl of scabetti ohs to throw them away. "Don't throw it away. I'll eat it" Y/N stops him.

He nods, taking up a spoon and gently putting it in her bowl. She mumbles a slight thank you, her head buried in her bowl as she eats before Dean gets the Lucky Charms from the cupboard and a bowl. Resting it harshly down on the table between the two kids, Y/N jumps slightly at the impact, not expecting him to rest it down so hard.

"I'm sorry princess, I didn't mean to scare you" Dean mumbles softly, his tone apologetic. "It's fine, charming" She assured him, a slight blush raising to her chubby cheeks at the nickname Dean has always called her by. Sam picks up the cereal box and reaches into it, taking out the toy, "Do you want the prize?" He smiles innocently, handing his older brother the toy.

After a few hours, Sam is already asleep but Y/N was getting restless, she decides to ask Dean if it's okay for her to go to the vending machine and get a soda. "Hey Dean?" She calls for his attention, Dean turns his head from the couch where his eyes was focused on the tv. "What're you doing up? Go to bed" He orders her gently.

"Can I go for a soda? I know it's late but I can't get much sleep" She says sweetly, hoping she could persuade him. He sighs, narrowing his eyes at her. "It's late, y/n/n" He says firmly, but she pouts, mustering up her puppy dog eyes that she thought Sam to perfect. He shakes his head and gives in,

"Okay okay, just be quick." He instructs her. She smiles widely, cheering. "Yayy! Thank you. I'll be quick" She assured him, grabbing her coat and her 10 dollar bill her dad left her incase, walking out of the room.

After about 15 minutes she got back, a bag in her hand with soda, snacks, Lucky Charms and milk. An excited Y/N closes the door behind her as a worried sick Dean who was pacing around the room whisper yells, "You said you were going to the vending machine!" He whisper yells. "Chill out dude. I got you something" She whispers back, pulling out the Lucky Charms from the plastic bag.

Dean is shocked when she does this, "I got this for you" She smiles, handing him the cereal. "You- what?" He's stunned, staring at the boc in his hand. "Dad leaves me a bit of cash sometimes, just incase we run out. I knew you probably didn't eat all day and wanted the cereal. So I went to the convenience store, which was right across the street next to the arcade before you yell at me, and got you the Lucky Charms" She explains, hoping he isn't mad.

The look in Deans eyes alone, it was almost as if he wanted to cry, the gesture of her just getting the cereal alone made his heart swell. Y/N was too kind and thoughtful to him and Sam. She was a kid herself but still made the best of any situation in anyway she can. He rests the cereal down and leans down to engulf her in a bear hug.

"Thank you, princess" He says gratefully. Her tiny arms wrap around his shoulders as she buries her face into his neck, squeezing him just as tightly. "You're welcome, charming" She says softly, when they let go of the hug, she gives him a toothy smile, her cheeks pink with blush.

"Shhh, don't tell Sammy" She whispers jokingly, putting a finger to her lips. She then puts out her pinky, gesturing for him to swear on it. "I won't" He whispers back, locking his pinky with hers, smiling widely.

Present Time

"Sir?" Joanna's voice snaps Dean out of his reminiscing. "I couldn't get you three queens. We only had two, would that be fine or would you like a room with two queens and separate single with one queen?" She asks him. His eyebrows shoot up at this, "Uh, two queens would be fine" He answers, clearing his throat.

Guess they're gonna have to rock paper scissors to see who gets a bed to themselves. But secretly Dean is hoping he has to share a bed with Y/N. Dean sighs, smirking to himself slightly as Joanna hands him the room key. "Thanks" He says before calling Sam and Y/N in.

"Bad news, someone's gonna have to share a bed" Dean tells them as they walk to the room. They groan in annoyance, "Couldn't you have gotten me a separate room?" Y/N grumbles. "Booked up" He lies, she narrows her eyes at him suspiciously but takes the bait. "Fine, Me and Y/N first and then winner against Dean" Sam puts up his fist to play rock paper scissors against Y/N.

"We're not kids, Sam" Y/N glares at him, he gives her a knowing look. She rolls her eyes and drops her bag, obliging, she puts her fist up. "God please, don't let me share a bed with Sam. He punches in his sleep" She grumbles to herself, causing the boys to laugh. "I do not!" Sam says defensively, she scoffs rolling her eyes.

"I've had black eyes to prove it. Multiple!" She retorts exasperatedly, pointing to her eye, making Dean snort and Sam chuckle. Dean silently prays that Y/N loses. Rock, Paper, Scissors SHOOT. Sam hits paper and Y/N hits rock. She groans in annoyance as Sam celebrates in victory. "Dammit!" She curses. Dean snickers as him and Sam now put their fists up. Rock, Paper, Scissors SHOOT.

Sam hits rock as Dean hits scissors, purposely. "Dean, always with the scissors!" Sam exclaims triumphantly, taking the keys from Dean to open the door. "Guess it's me and you tonight princess" Dean grins at her widely, wiggling his eyebrows at her. He rests an arm around her shoulder as they walk into the room, Sam rests his bag on the bed, arms wide, plopping belly first onto it.

"Don't get any ideas, Winchester. I'll neuter you in your sleep" She joke threatens, pushing him away lightly and his arm off her shoulder. He erupts in laughter at her empty threat. She walks over to their bed and sits on the edge of it, resting her bag on the ground. Sam then opens up his laptop to begin his research along with Y/N taking out hers to get started.

A little later, Sam is nose deep in research about Shritgas, Y/N is falling asleep on herself with a book in her hand on the bed while Dean is making coffee for them. "Well, you were right" Sam says to Dean. Y/N jumps up slightly, the book falling out of her hand, causing the boys to chuckle, "Huh? What?" She says dazed with sleep, drool running down the side of her mouth.

She wipes it off with her sleeve, yawning. "Here. Caffeinate." Dean chuckles, handing her the cup of coffee. She mumbles a soft thank you, taking the warm cup between her palm to heat her body up a bit from the cold air in the chilly room. "What did you find?" She asks Sam, sipping the coffee. "It wasn't very easy to find, but Dean was right. A Shtriga is a kind of witch" He tells them.

"They're Albanian, but legends about them date back to Ancient Rome. They feed off of spiritus vitae" Sam explains, reading from the article on the laptop. "Spirit what?" Dean cocks his eyebrow in confusion. "Vitae. It's Latin. It translates to 'breath of life' " Y/N pipes up using her knowledge on languages, thanks to Bobby. "Yeah, that's right. Kind of like your life force or essence" Sam adds.

"Didn't the doctor say the kids bodies were wearing out?" Dean points out. Sam and Y/N agree. "It's a thought. You know? She takes your vitality, maybe your immunity goes to hell. Pneumonia takes hold" Y/N suggests, "Makes sense." Sam agrees, creasing his lips. "Anyways, Shtriga can feed off anyone. But they prefer-" Sam says.

"Children" Dean finishes his sentence for him. "Man that's just sick" Y/N grimaces in disgust. "Probably because they have stronger life force." Sam suggests. "And get this: Shtriga are invulnerable to all weapons devised by God and man" Sam tells them. "So how're we gonna kill the son of a bitch?" Y/N asks.

"That's not right. She's vulnerable when she feeds" Dean says, going into the bag next to Y/N. They look at Dean in confusion at this. "What?" Y/N asks him. "If you catch her while eating, you can blast her with consecrated wrought iron. Buckshots or rounds. I think." He explains to them, unzipping the bag to take out his Dads journal.

"How do you know that?" Sam asks him. "Dad told me. I remember" Dean lies, sitting at the table as he flips through the journal. Y/N picks up on this and cocks her eyebrow at his poor attempt of a coverup as she sips her coffee. Resting it down on the night stand, she asks. "Oh. So uh, anything else John or dad might've mentioned?" Y/N asks him suspiciously.

She leans back on the bed, crossing her arms over her chest as Sam looks at him unconvinced. "No. That's it" Dean says casually. Sam and Y/N share a look and Dean notices this. "What?" He asks them, feigning confusion. "Nothing" Sam dismissing, both him and Y/N shaking their heads. He sighs and closes the tab on the laptop, getting up.

"Okay, so assuming we can kill it when it eats, we still gotta find the thing first. Which ain't gonna be a cakewalk. Shtrigas take on a human disguise when they're not hunting" Sam says as he goes over to the coffee maker to pour some of his own. "What kind of human disguise?" Y/N asks him. "Historically, something innocuous. It could be anything, but it's usually a feeble old woman, which may be how the whole witches as old crimes legend got started" Sam explains.

Deans gaze snaps to Y/N when he says this, his mind going to the old woman they say in the hospital. Y/N's gaze snaps up from the paper she had in her hand of the victims addresses. They look at each other in realization, "Hang on. Take a look at this" Y/N says, getting up from the bed.

She hands Dean the paper. "Check this out. I marked down all the addresses of the victims. Now these are the houses that have been hit so far. And dead center.." She points to the x's she marked on the map, corresponding to the houses of the victims.

"The hospital" Sam says. "The hospital. When we were there, me and Y/N saw a patient, an old woman" Dean points out as Y/N nods. Sam looks at the two, smirking a bit. "An old person, huh?" He asks them. "Yeah" They respond. "In the hospital?" He says in a tone of mock disbelief.

They look at him in annoyance, "Whoo, better call the coast guard" Sam says sarcastically in a mocking tone, chuckling. "Shut up dude!" Dean defends and Y/N rolls her eye. "Well listen, smartass. She had an inverted cross hanging on her wall" Y/N tells him, his smile fading. "Oh, now you're quiet wise ass" Dean rolls his eyes.

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The three hunters make their way down the hall to the old woman's room. "Goodnight Doctor Heidecker" They hear a nurse greet the doctor, backing into a corner quicker to conceal their presence. "See you tomorrow Betty." He greets her back with a smile. "Try to get some sleep" She says kindly as the victor makes his way past the hunters, not noticing them as their backs are turnt to him.

They make sure the coast is clear before walking back down the hall, toward the old woman's room. They approach room 237, Sam peering his head to look into the little glass opening on the door to make sure there's no one inside but the old woman. Dean and Y/N draw their guns, making sure it's loaded.

Cocking it, they give Sam a nod. Sam slowly opens the door, revealing the old woman in her wheelchair, her back facing them. They creep in lightly, making sure not to be too loud as Sam closes the door gently behind them. Dean and Y/N tiptoe up to the woman while Sam draws his gun. The woman looks to be asleep, so they lean in warily.

When suddenly, she turns her head to them in a rapid motion, "Who the hell are you?!" She yells. Scaring the crap out of all of them, Dean and Y/N jump back into the wall with the inverted cross in shock and fear. "Who's there?!" The woman yells. "You trying to steal my stuff?! They're always stealing around her" She grits her teeth angrily as Sam turns the light on.

"No, uh, ma'am. We're maintenance. We're sorry. We thought you were sleeping" Sam quickly lies, his tone shakily. Dean and Y/N try to catch their breaths. Running their hands over their faces. "Uh, nonsense. I was sleeping with my peepers open" The woman says cackling. "And fix that crucifix, would you?" She says bitterly.

Dean and Y/N's eyebrows cock at this, turning to look at the cross behind them. "I've asked four damn times already" She says angrily, Dean touches the cross and it instantly flips back over into place, dangling on the wall. Sam looks at the both of them in amusement at the situation that just occurred.

________________________________

The Impala pulls into the parking lot of the motel the next morning. Sam exits laughing as Dean and Y/N slam their doors annoyed. "I was sleeping with my peepers open?" Sam quotes the old woman's words, laughing hysterically. "Man, we almost smoked that old gal, I swear" Dean groans. "It's not funny" Y/N grumbles, embarrassed.

Sam still laughs as he opens the motel room door, "Oh man. You should've seen your faces" Sam cackles, wheezing in hysterics. "Oh yeah, laugh it up "We're back to square one" Y/N says as she rolls her eyes. Dean notices the young boy from the motel lobby, Joanne's son, sitting on a bench in the lot looking distraught.

"Hang on" He tells Sam and Y/N, walking over to the clearly worried kid. They follow behind him confused as he gets down, stooping to the boys level, Y/N notices the kid's worried expression and asks, "Hey, what's wrong hun?" She asks him gently. "My brothers sick" He tells them, his eyes watery and red from crying all night.

"The little guy?" Dean asks him shocked. The boy nods. "Pneumonia. He's in the hospital" He tells them, Deans face dropping. Y/N's heart sinks from hearing this. Sam gives the young boy a sympathetic look. "It's my fault" The boy says. "Oh, come on. How?" Dean asks him, feeling sorry for the kid that's blaming himself.

"I should've made sure the window was locked. He wouldn't have gotten pneumonia if the window was latched" The boy sniffles. This rings off bells in all of their heads. They all share a look of suspicion at this. "Listen to me. We can promise you that this isn't your fault sweetie. Okay?" Y/N assures the young boy gently, her tone soft.

He turns to her, teary eyed, "It's my job to look after him." The boy says firmly. Dean can't help but feel a sense of familiarity at the boy's protective nature, he nods understandably, knowing exactly how the boy was feeling. Sam and Y/N notice the look of recognition in Deans eyes.

Joanna exits the motel in a rush with a pillow, hospital bag and teddy bear in her hands "Michael" She calls out to her son. He instantly goes over to her as she opens the Jeep. "I want you to turn on the 'no vacancy' sign while I'm gone. I've got Denise covering room service. So don't bother with any of the rooms" Joanna instructs Michael. "I'm going with you" Michael insists

"Not now, Michael" Joanna says exasperated. "But I gotta see Asher" He pleads. "Hey, Michael" Dean cuts in. "Hey, I know how you feel, okay? I'm a big brother too...but you gotta go easy on your mom right now, okay?" Dean advices him gently. "Damn it!" Joanna curses as she drops her bag and keys.

"It's okay, I got it" Y/N says helpfully as she and Sam stoop down to pick up the bag and keys. "Here" Sam says, offering her a small smile, Y/N doing the same. "Thanks" She says gratefully, taking the items. Still shaken a bit by her tone. "Listen, you're in no condition to drive. Why don't you let me give you a lift to the hospital?" Dean offers.

"No? I couldn't possibly-" She goes to deny, feeling bad but Dean cuts her off. "No, it's no trouble. I insist" Dean presses. She sighs, nodding as she hands him the keys to her Jeep. "Thanks" She says as Dean takes it before giving her son a kiss on the head. "Be good" She says to Michael, jumping into the passenger seat.

Dean closes the door for her before looking at Michael with sympathy, anguish in his eyes. "We're gonna kill this thing. I want it dead, you hear me?" He says firmly to Sam and Y/N before walking off to the drivers side, jumping in and driving off.

________________________________

Sam and Y/N are at the library doing research. Sam is deep in thought as Y/N chews on a granola bar. "This is some dark shit" She sighs as she skims through the dreadful articles. "You're telling me. The mind-fucking shit I'm reading right now. This thing is sick" Sam grimaces in disgust as he reads the research.

"Something's off about Dean, don't you think?" He says, making Y/N's gaze snap over to him from her computer. "Yeah, he's acting weird about this case. Weirder than usual" She says, swallowing the snack. "Maybe it's the kid. He did relate a lot to the fact about being a big brother also" She suggests, shrugging, though not convinced by her suggestion.

"Yeah...maybe" Sam sighs, typing in the computer. She frowns and then digs into her pocket for her phone, the bar in her mouth. She dials Deans number and puts it on speaker, scooting closer to Sam so he can hear. "Hey sweetheart" Dean answers softly. "Hey. How's the kid?" She responds in concern. "He's not good" He tells her, looking back at the sick kid in the hospital room where he's in.

"Where you at?" Dean asks her. "I'm at the library with Sam" She tells him. "Hey. We're trying to find out as much as we can about this Shtriga" Sam now speaks into the phone. "Yeah, what do you guys got?" He asks him. "Well, bad news. I started with- uh. Fort Douglas, around the time you said Dad and Mr. L/N was there" Sam begins to explains.

"And?" Dean asks. "Same deal. Before that, there was uh...There was Ogdenville. Before that, North Haverbrook and Brockway. Every 15 to 20 years it hits a new town" Y/N explains as she chews. "Dean, this thing is just getting started in Fitchburg. In all these other places, it goes on for months, dozens of kids before the Shtriga finally moves on. Kids just languish in comas and then they die" Sam says, his tone sad.

Y/N's heart hurts as they explain all of this to Dean. "How far back does this thing go?" Dean asks, just as hurt by the case. "We don't know. Earliest mention I could find was this place called Black River Falls back in the 1890's" Y/N says, squinting her eyes as she reads the article. "Talk about a horror show" She mumbles, clicking through the pictures of the article.

Sam sees a familiar face when she skips through the pictures of an article saying, 'Doctors Battle Mysterious Ailment'. "Whoa whoa, go back" He straightens himself from his seat. She does so, going back a couple pictures. "Right there" He points out, stopping her. "Holy fuck" Y/N gasps when her eyes land on the familiar face, her mouth agape. Her granola bar slips out of her hand and onto her lap as they stare at the picture.

"No fucking way" Sam gasps, just as shocked. "Sam? Y/N? What's wrong?" Dean asks them. "Hold on, we're looking at a photograph right now of a bunch of doctors standing around a kids bed. One of the doctors is Heidecker" Sam tells him, still in shock. "And?" Dean asks them. "And this picture was taken in 1893" Y/N says, realization dawning on Dean.

"You're sure?" Dean asks them. "Yeah. Yeah, absolutely sure" Sam says. Deans face is stoic as he hangs up the call, turning to the Dr. Heidecker behind him who's caressing Asher's head gently as a concerned Joanna looks on. Heidecker gets up, resting a hand comfortingly on Joanna's shoulder, Deans jaw clenching at the monster infront of him.

"Don't worry. Your sons in good hands. I'm gonna take care of him." Heidecker assures her. "So, what's the CDC come up with so far?" Heidecker asks Dean as he tries to not glare at him and pop him a bullet on sight. "We're still working on a few theories. You'll know something as soon as we do" Dean tells him, trying to remain calm.

"Well, nothings more important to me than these kids. Just let me know if I can help" Heidecker says, leaving the room. "I'll do that" Dean grumbles, clenching his jaw angrily.

________________________________

"We should've thought of this before. A doctors a perfect disguise. You're trusted. You can even control the whole thing" Sam rambles on about the Shtriga, the trio now back in the motel room. Dean grunts in anger, peeling off his jacket. "That son of a bitch" He growls. "Honestly I'm surprised you didn't draw on him right there" Y/N says equally angry, shaking her head.

Dean scoffs, wiping the back of his neck with a towel, "Yeah well, first of all. I'm not gonna open fire in a frigging pediatrics ward" Dean says, tossing the towel aside. "Good call" Sam snorts. "Second, it wouldn't have done any good. This bastards bulletproof unless he's chowing down on something." He adds.

"And third, I wasn't packing, which probably is a really good thing because I probably would've just burned a clip in him off the principle alone" Dean says exasperated. "You're getting wise in your old age, Dean" Y/N commends jokingly. "Damn right" He smirks, flashing her a wink.

"Because now I know how we're gonna get it" He says confidently. The two look at him confused, "What do you mean?" Sam asks. "The Shtriga works through siblings. Right?" Dean asks. "Right" Y/N confirms. "Well, last night-" Dean begins and gives them a look, realization hitting them. "It went after Asher." Sam says. "So you're thinking tonight it's gonna come after Michael" Y/N says and he nods.

"Then we gotta get him out of here" Sam says urgently. "No, that would blow the whole deal" Dean says, they look at him in disbelief. "What?!" Sam exclaims. "Yeah" Dean says. "Then you wanna use that poor kid as bait?" Y/N says baffled. He gives her a look, "Are you nuts, dude?! No. Forget it. That's out of the question" Sam dismisses.

"It's not out of the question, guys. It's the only way. If this thing disappears, it could be years before we get another chance" Dean argues. Y/N glares at him, infuriated at the fact that he'd want to use a kid as bait. "Michael's a kid! And we're not gonna dangle him infront of that thing like a worm on a hook!" Y/N snaps.

"Dad and F/N did not send me here to walk away!" He snaps back. "Send you here? They didn't send you here, they sent us here!" Sam retorts. Dean rolls his eyes, turning away, "This isn't about you two. Alright? I'm the one that screwed up! It's my fault. There's no telling how many kids have gotten hurt because of me!" He bellows.

Y/N's face drops at this, still confused as to why Dean is blaming himself. "What are you saying, Dean? Tell us, how is this your fault?" Sam says confused. Y/N notices Dean's swarm of emotions. Guilt, anger, hatred. She moves closer to Dean and places a hand on his shoulder, gently. "Hey, look at us" She says calmly.

He tears his eyes from the window it's focused on, back to her. His expression softening when his eyes bore into hers. "Dean. You've been hiding something from the get-go." She says gently. "Since when do dad and John bail on a hunt? Since when do they let something get away?" Sam adds. She drops her hand from his shoulder lightly as Dean turns, taking a seat on the bed they shared.

"Now, talk to us, man. Tell us what's going on" Her tone is soft, encouraging. She takes a seat next to him. In that moment, Dean allows the dam to break, he spills the beans of that faithful night about his encounter with the Shtriga. "Fort Douglas, Wisconsin" He begins, staring into the distance. "It was the third night in this crap room and I was climbing the walls, man. I needed to get some air."

Flashback to the 80s'

Dean sits at the couch, eating the cereal Y/N got for him, watching his cartoons. He's getting restless after being packed in that room for so long. He sighs, placing the empty bowl next to him on the table and gets up from the couch. He turns off the TV before grabbing his coat and headed over to the door.

He takes one look back at Y/N and Sam who are asleep on the bed in the room. Sam on his back, arms spread out. One of his hands rest ontop of Y/N's face, most likely from accidental punching her in his sleep again. While Y/N is on her side, one hand under her head supporting it, mouth wide open like Sam's. He chuckles as their awkward sleeping position before opening the door, locking it from the outside.

"Kid" A worker in the arcade calls out to Dean who's playing at one of the machines. "We're closing up" He informs him. Dean nods, heading back to the motel room that was next to the arcade. He opens the door and locks it behind him, his heart dropping when he sees an unfamiliar light coming from Sam and Y/N's room.

He gently pushes the door open to see a hooded figure leaning over his sleeping brother, ready to suck the life force out of him. He gulps fearfully, picking up the gun that F/N gave him that was sitting against the doorframe. He aims it at the monster, cocking the gun. It snaps up when it hears the cocking of the gun and lets out a inhumane roar.

Dean hesitates to shoot, still in shock when F/N and John come bursting through the door. "Get out of the way!" John yells at his son, running over to his younger son, shaking him awake as F/N empties his clip into the monster. Dean hides behind the door, still shaken with fear. The monster narrowly escapes through the locked window, breaking the glass when it crashes through it.

The commotion causes Y/N to scream, jumping awake when she hears the sound of glass breaking. "Sammy? Sammy? Sammy?!" John holds his son in his arms. "Y/n/n, y/n/n? Baby, y/n/n!" F/N runs over to his daughter. "Daddy, what happened?" Y/N asks her father shakily, tears welling up in her eyes. "You okay?" John asks Sam who's still confused.

"Dad, what's going on?" He asks his father sleepily. "You alright?" F/N sobs, stroking his little girls hair as she cries into his. All she could do is note. John holds Sam closely as F/N holds Y/N tightly, both sighing in relief at the fact that it didn't get to hurt either of their babies. Dean rests the gun down, guilt etched on his face as he walks back into the room.

"What happened?" F/N asks Dean. "I just went out" Dean timidly tries to explain. "What?" John grits his teeth at his son. "J-just for a second. I'm sorry" Dean stutters, trying to apologize as he swallows the lump in his throat. John glares at Dean angrily, "I told you not to leave this room. I told you not to let them out of your sight!" John bellows.

"Hey hey, they're okay. Y/n/n and Sammy are okay" F/N tries to calm John down a bit but he still glares at Dean. F/N looks over at the young boy, disappointed at the fact that he didn't follow their orders. But is still grateful they made it back in time by the grace of god before anything worse happened.

Present Time

Sam and Y/N take in the story, both sitting on either side of Dean on the bed, speechless at everything he just told them. "They just grabbed us and booked." Dean says as he finishes the story. "Dropped us off at Pastor Jim's about three hours away. By the time they got back to Fort Douglas, the Shtriga disappeared. It was- it was just gone" He explains, his tone sullen.

He takes a deep breath, "It never resurfaced until now." He says, chuckling dryly. "You know, they never spoke about it again. I didn't ask. But they..." Dean continues, tears welling up in his eyes. Y/N's heart breaks as he talks, a lump forming in his throat from the way this is clearly affecting him.

"Dad looked at me different, you know?" He says, turning to Y/N. "Even your dad, he couldn't look me in the eye, Y/N" He adds. She gives him a sympathetic look, tears welling up in her eyes. He breaks eye contact with her, trying not to cry. "Which was worse. Not that I blamed them. They gave me and order and I didn't listen. I almost got you two killed" Dean blame himself.

"You were just a kid" Sam tries to assure his brother gently. "Don't" Dean says firmly. "Dean..." Y/N says softly, placing a hand on his thigh comfortingly. His gaze falls to her hand, tears threatening to make its way down his cheeks at the comfort just a simple touch from her brings to him. She uses her pointer finger to lift himself face by the dimple below his chin to look at her, his watery emerald eyes piercing hers.

Deans breath hitches in his throat by this gesture. "It's not your fault. We don't blame you. You were a kid. We all were kids, no kid should have that kind of responsibility" Y/N assures him, her tone gentle. "It's still my job. It's my job to protect you two. And I failed" Deans voice cracks at this, Sam and Y/N shake their heads. "We're here, aren't we?" Sam adds, offering Dean a small smile.

"They knew this was unfinished business for me. They sent me here to finish it" Dean clears his throat. "But using Michael. I don't know, Dean" Sam says unsure. "I mean, how about one of us hides under the cover, you know? We'll be the bait." Y/N suggests. Dean sighs, shaking his head. "No, it won't work. It's gonna get close enough to feed. It'll see us" He tells them.

They both sigh in defeat. "Believe me, I don't like it, but it's gotta be the kid" Dean says. He takes Y/N's hand that's still resting on his thigh and gently places it down next to her, getting up. His back turnt to them, a pure look of pain and anguish on his face as he recalls the events of that night, over and over in his head.

________________________________

"You're all crazy! Just go away or I'm calling the cops!" Michael yells at them terrified while clutching the landline at the counter after they explained the Shtriga situation to the kid. "Hang on a second. Just listen to me. You have to believe me, okay?" Dean pleads with the young boy. "This thing came through the window, and it attacked your brother." Dean continues, but Michael still hesitates.

"Now I've seen it. I know what it looks like, because it attacked my brother once too" He further explains. Michael then puts the phone down, still a bit on edge but it seems to have eased his mind a bit. "This thing, is it like, like...? It had this long, black robe?" Michael asks them.

Deans breath hitches. "You saw it last night, didn't you?" Y/N asks him gently. Michael looks down in horror. "I thought I was having a nightmare" He admits. Dean and Y/N share a look at this, "I'd give anything not to tell you this...but sometimes nightmares are real" Dean tells him.

Michael looks confused, "So, why are you telling me?" He asks the three hunters. "Because we need your help" Dean admits. "My help?" Michael asks them. "We can kill it, me and them, it's what we do. But we can't do it without you" Dean explains, gesturing to Sam and Y/N. "What? No" Michael stutters fearfully.

"Sweetie, listen to me. This thing hurt Asher and it's gonna keep hurting kids unless we stop it. Do you understand me?" Y/N chimes in, giving the boy a sympathetic look.

"Well, that went crappy" Dean groans after Michael said no to helping them. The three now back in their room. "Now what?" He asks Sam and Y/N. Sam sitting on his bed and DY/N sitting on theirs, absolutely stumped. "What did your expect? You can't ask an adult to do something like that, much less a kid" Sam scoffs.

That's when they hear a knocking on the door, Y/N moves over to open it, revealing Michael. Sam and Dean stand behind her, surprised to see the young boy, "If you kill it, will Asher get better?" He asks them. Y/N looks back at Sam and Dean. "Honestly hun, we don't know" Y/N says truthfully.

Michael then looks over to Dean, "You said you're a big brother?" He asks him. Dean steps forward, next to Y/N. "Yeah" He answers. "You'd take care of your little brother? You'd do anything for him?" Michael asks him. Dean nods, "Yeah, I would" He admits, his tone heartfelt. Y/N look back at Sam with a smile, Sams expression mirroring Y/N one.

"Me too" Michael says. "I'll help" He obliges.

________________________________

Later that night, Dean is setting up a camera in Michaels room that's synced to Y/N's laptop to catch the Shritga in action. "This camera has night vision, so we'll be able to see as clear as day. Are we good?" He calls out to Y/N to confirm. "Hair to the right" She responds for him to shift it a bit which he does.

"There, there" Sam stops him so it's angled directly at Michael's bed. "What do I do?" Michael asks Dean, "Just stay under the covers" Dean advices him, taking a seat next to him on the bed. "And if it shows up?" He asks him. "Well, we'll be right in the next room. We're gonna come in with guns. So as soon as we do, you roll off this bed and you crawl under it" Dean instructs him.

"What if you shoot me?" Michael questions a bit worried. "We won't shoot you. We're good shots. We're not gonna fire until you're clear, okay?" Dean assures him. Michael nods and pulls the covers closer, "Have you heard a gunshot before?" Dean asks him. "Like in the movies?" Michael queries. Dean sighs, "It's gonna be a lot louder than in the movies. So I want you to stay under the bed, cover your ears and do not come out until o we say so, you understand?" Dean informs him.

Michael still looks hesitant and terrified, "Michael, are you sure you wanna do this? You don't have to, it's okay I won't be mad" He asks the young timid child, "No? I'm okay. Just don't shoot me" Michael says. "We're not gonna let anything happen to you. Promise" Dean ensures him.

"What time is it?" Dean asks as they look at the  live surveillance from Michaels room. Y/N checks her watch. "It's three" She tells him. "You sure these iron rounds are gonna work?" Sam asks him. "Consecrated iron rounds. And, yeah, it's what F/N used last time" Dean tells him. "Hey Dean, I'm sorry" Sam apologizes sincerely.

Dean looks at him confused, "For what?" He questions. Sam sighs, "you know, I've really given you a lot of crap for always following Dad and F/N's orders. But I know why you do it" Sam says in a heartfelt tone. "Oh, God. Kill me now" Dean groans, making Y/N and Sam chuckle. "Such a beautiful moment, we should totally have a sleep over and braid Sams hair after this" Y/N says in a high girly tone to lighten the mood, the two other hunters chuckle at her humor.

Her eyes snap to the screen when she sees a bit of movement on it, her expression switching to a serious one. "Wait, look" She whispers. The boys look closely at the screen to see a claw like hand sliding the window open. They all draw their weapons, cocking their guns.

While a terrified Michael sits at the bed, wide awake as the hooded figure looms over him. "Now?" Sam asks for the signal. "Not yet" Dean says. The figure moves closer to Michael as they look on, the video footage then begins to distort. Michael cringes in horror as it moves closer to suck the life force out of him.

"Hey!" Sam yells as the three burst into the room. "Michael, down!" Dean instructs him loudly, Michael then dives below the bed. As he does this, the three hunters then begin to empty their clips into the Shtriga. It falls to the ground and let's out an inhumane growl of pain. "Hun, you alright?" Y/N asks him. "Yeah" He responds shakily from under the bed.

"Just sit tight" Dean instructs him, moving over to the Shtriga. Sam and Y/N follow behind, aiming their guns at him to make sure he's dead. He seems to be so Dean turns back to them and nods. When suddenly the Shtriga grabs Dean by his throat in a flash. "Dean!" Sam and Y/N yell in panic as the Shtriga launches Dean into the wall.

They go to shoot again but it knocks their guns away and throws them both into the wall behind them. It strangles them both, opening Sams mouth to begin to suck his life force out. Sam begins to go weak as Y/N squirms underneath him, gasping for air. "No!!!" She screams, trying to get out from him but he's too strong. She tries to reach for her gun but it's too far away.

"Hey!" Dean calls out for the Shtriga. It turns to Dean as it's sucking Sams life force, with that Dean shoots it point blank in the forehead. Killing it for good this time. "You okay, guys?" He asks them. They both give him a weak thumbs up, getting up onto their feet. They look over the now dead Shtriga, white mist coming out of its bullet wound. Dean shoots him a couple more times for good measure.

This allows even more mist to swarm out of its body, the mist being the life force of the other kids it sucked out of. Michael then peeps out from under the bed. "It's okay, Michael. You can come on out" Dean tells him, he then gets up, a small smile on his face at the fact that it's over. And his brother will be okay. Dean pats his shoulder happily, a smile on his face.

________________________________

After the hunt, they were all exhausted. They decided to catch a couple of hours before hitting the road. The sun is beginning to rise in their room, the rays peeping through the window shades and onto Sams face. His eyes flutter open, groaning from the sunlight burning his eyes. He pushes himself up from his bed and throws his blanket off of him.

Then raking a hand through his bed head as he yawns, a smile creeps onto his face when he takes a look over at Dean and Y/N's bed. Deans arm was draped around Y/N's waist, his other hand under his head to support it. His nose nuzzled into the back of her hair at her neck while he back to pressed against his chest in a spooning position. One of Y/N's hand was dangling off the bed while her other hand rested right above Deans hand that was draped around her waist.

Sam had to stop himself from audibly cheering at the sight. So to savor the moment, he quickly takes his phone out to snap a picture at the cute moment, so he can tease them about it later on. He gets up from his bed and begins packing. A couple minutes later, Dean begins to stir in his sleep. He practically shoots up when he notices his position. Sam, who was basically giggling at Deans reaction as he folds his clothes.

This causes Deans gaze to snap over to his annoying little brother, "Not a word out of you, you hear me?" Dean grits his teeth, pointing at Sam. Who's still giggling. "I didn't say anything" Sam puts his hand up in surrender. Dean rolls his eyes but then freezes when he feels a shift in his pants. "Oh fuck" His mouth agape as he stares at his gaping erection tenting through his grey sweatpants.

"Son of a bitch....Son of a bitch!" He peels himself from the bed and dashes into the bathroom while covering his crotch with a towel. When the cold shower turns on, the pressure harder than usual, Sam realizes what's going on and snorts loudly. His eyes tearing from from laughter. "Don't take too long in there stud, she might think you're-" Sam teases his older brother.

"Shut the fuck up, Sam!" Dean yells embarrassed from the bathroom. This causes Y/N to stir in her sleep at their loud banter. "Man, what the hell are you two idiots yelling about this early?" She groans in annoyance, taking Deans pillow and stuffing it over her head. She's not aware of the situation that just played out, due to the fact she's very grouchy in the morning.

"Get your ass up sleeping ugly, we gotta go" Sam teases her, tossing a pillow at her head. It bounces off and onto the floor. "Ughhhh, five more minutes!" She groans childishly. Sam chuckles at this as Y/N forces herself off the bed, sleepily rubbing her tired eyes with her fingers. Dean exits the bathroom, a towel around his waist since he forgot to carry his clothes inside.

A blush rises to Y/N's cheeks at the sight of a shirtless Dean but she clears her throat. "What time is it?" She asks them. "After lunch" Dean informs her, looking down at his watch. She then sighs and grabs her towel from her bag to make her way lazily to the bathroom. When the shower turns her, she allows herself to smile.

She's always seen Dean shirtless but these past few weeks, since she admitted to herself that she has feelings for him. It's just been different, she felt more drawn to him. She can't explain it but she continues to tell herself to get her shit in check because she's not gonna allow her feelings to mess up their mission. Find the thing that killed their moms and kill it. Sounds easy enough. Right?

Meanwhile Sam is giving Dean a smug look as he puts his clothes on, "Seriously dude, stop looking at me like that" Dean groans as he slips his shirt on. "I never said anything man" Sam chuckles as he finishes packing his stuff. Dean rolls his eyes, "You're never gonna let me live this down, are you?" He narrows his eyes at his little brother as a laces his shoe up, smirk on Sams face as he throws his bag over his shoulder. "Nope" Sam responds, popping the 'p' at the end sassily.

________________________________

After they finished packing, the three hunters are putting their stuff in the trunk when Dean notices Joanna outside. "Hey, Joanna. How's Asher doing?" He asks her concerned. "Have you seen Michael?" She asks them. "Mom! Mom!" Michael calls out to his mom, running to hug her. "Hey!" Joanna smiles when she sees her son, wrapping her arms around him.

"How's Ash?" Michael asks her as they let go of the hug. "Got some good news. You're brothers gonna be fine" She tells him happily. This makes Sam, Dean and Y/N let out a breath of relief. "Really?" Michael asks surprised and happy. "Yeah, really. No one can explain it. It's- it's a miracle." She explains as the three hunters share a look of relief.

"They're gonna keep him overnight, but after that, he's coming home" She tells them. "That's great" Dean says. "How are the other kids doing?" Sam asks. "Good. Real good. A bunch of them should be checking out in a few days. Dr. Travis says the wards gonna be like a ghost town" She informs them happily.

"Dr. Travis? What about Dr. Heidecker?" Y/N asks, feigning confusion. "Oh, he wasn't in today. Must have been sick or something" Joanne assumes. "Yeah, must have" Dean days vaguely. She then turns to her son, running a hand through his hair. "So, did anything happen while I was gone?" She asks him.

Michael has a slight guilty look on his face but covers it up, "No, same old stuff" He assures her. "Okay. You can go see Ash" She tells him. "Now?" He asks happily. "Only if you want to" Joanna says. He smiles at Dean who nods at him with a smile, he then runs over to their car and hops in. "I uh, better get going before he hotwires the car and drives himself" Joanna jokes before going over to the car, parting ways with them.

They all sigh as Dean closes the trunk. "It's too bad" Sam says. "Oh, they'll be fine" Dean assured him. "I don't think that's what he meant" Y/N says, leaning against baby. "Yeah. I meant Michael. He'll always know there are things out there in the dark. He'll never be the same, you know?" Sam scoffs as Y/N nods in agreement.

Dean doesn't know how to answer this, "Sometimes I wish that..." Y/N begins but trails off sighing. "What?" Dean asks her. "I wish we could have that kind of innocence" Y/N says honestly, looking into Deans eyes. His heart skips a beat, breaking at the thought as he looks on at Joanna's car driving away.

"Yeah, me too" Sam agrees, sighing. "If it means anything, sometimes I wish you two could've too" Dean admits sadly, jumping into Baby. Sam and Y/N file in behind as Dean starts the ignition and backs out of the motel lot to hit the road and face whatever God decides to throw their way.

________________________________

Authors Note: Hope you guys enjoyed this episode! I made it longer since I took long a while to write it. A shit ton of stuff has been going on and I've been trying to update because I find pure joy in writing this. So whoever is reading, thank you for being patient and I will try my best to work through everything and update as soon as possible. This chapter is unedited but I will come back to fix it soon enough.

Stay safe my beauties😘And remember that Sam, Dean and Y/N loves every single one of you the way I do🫶

Xoxo

#dean winchester #sam winchester #spn #supernatural #dean and sam #sam and dean #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fandom #supernatural tv show #supernatural fanfiction

[circus-clangen]

(Time to continue the series of me adding lore to fanmade characters! Time for @tcof-clangen’s Scryingeye.)

Warning: Drawn rot. Please don’t read further if you’re uncomfortable with that.

> You left ringmaster’s caravan, and decided to go in observatory next.

> Scryingeye used to live here.

> Strangely, atmosphere doesn’t change with lack of cats.

> Little bag, some candles, packages of tea, shredded leaves- doesn’t seem to change over time.

> Only signs that this place has been abandoned are wilted tea sprout and rotting tea in the cups.

> About tea cups..

> You stare at them for some time.

> And leave them alone.

> Rotting leaves aren’t exactly the best scenario to look at.

> You wish you had materials to wash them and cook yourself some tea.

> Or wasn’t too lazy to wash them.

> Or both.

> You wanted to pile up among these pillows, and bury yourself in blankets.

> But perhaps smells in here weren’t making it worth staying for long time.

> Tea, rotting leaves and decaying bodies weren’t m-

> Wait what

> You looked at the door in the distant corner.

> Happily or sadly, you didn’t had a death wish.

> So you decided that it wasn’t the best idea to go in there.

> You hurriedly looked around, only to find another photo.

> Perhaps you should start collecting those.

> The photo felt old, perhaps even older than tea leaves here.

> And it may explain a stain on the rug.

> W H O . ?

(Well- I guess its time for usual explanation.

I don’t really have a lot of information on Scrying, I decided not to add anything really specific, so I let you decide what happened :)

Also, I would like to apologize if I get any designs or character personalities wrong, because l'm probably gotta be simplifying them because in future asks, I'll draw these designs ~50 times in a row, and may not get character's personality correctly.)

ANOTHER!!! WAKE UP GANG!!! WE HAVE ANOTHER!!!!! AND WITH SCRYINGEYE!!!! BELOVED!

#circusclan #circusfan

[gentaroukisaragi]

Ultraman Blazar's Salutations From Episodes 1-5 (ft. Bazanga, Leviera, and a sleeping Dorgo)

Episode 1 as well as the rest of the series can be found on youtube for free with eng subtitles and an eng audio track if that interests you

[Video description: Ultraman Blazar, a colossal grey humanoid alien with red and blue markings on his body, and blue markings on his face, performs his signature salutation in several different places and times. This salutation consists of raising his arms up to the sky in a circular motion, and bringing his knee up before stepping into a lunge and scooping his arms down and upward.

From episode 1, in a city at night, the camera watches from below, as Blazar performs his salutation and his markings flash red and blue. The shot cuts to a wider one, showing off the buildings and Blazar's opponent, Bazanga, a prawn-like Kaiju. After his salute, Blazar moves his hands into a guarded, fighting stance.

From Episode 2: Blazar stands against the bright blue day sky in a small fishing village, with much shorter buildings. He faces the camera directly as he does his salutation, and the camera zooms in on him as he does it and his markings flash red and blue once more.

From Episode 3: Blazar is framed in a head and shoulder shot and smothered in smoke as his colour time, a big round spot on his chest that is normally blue, flashes red. Once more he faces the camera as he does his salutation, before flying off, kicking up dirt in his takeoff.

From episode 4: The camera pans over a cityscape, with a highway at the front of the scene. Once more it is night time and Blazar faces off against a monster among many many buildings. The monster is Leviera, a sea-angel themed kaiju whose face is open to reveal flashing yellow lights as Blazar does his salutation from the side. Leviera is aggressively ready to go.

From episode 5: Blazar stands behind the sleeping kaiju, Dorgo, who looks mostly like a hill of dirt in this shot. He performs his salutation, and immediately begins to push the sleeping Kaiju back to its proper resting place. The shot switches to one of Blazar from behind, as he continues to push Dorgo back into place, among the green hills and mountains of the Japanese countryside. With a thump, Dorgo returns to his resting spot, and Blazar turns to face the camera as he jumps up into the air to fly away.

End video description.]

#captain eyebrows #fuck it. into the tag #Ultraman Blazar #this is rough but im gonna try to make it better #i want to have the series' worth by the time its over #ep 3 is his first post fight salutation. the special if it has one doesnt count bc its a recap. ep 6 doesnt have one (presumably bc its #Earth Garon but i still feel cheated out of one) ep 7 doesnt have one which makes sense bc 2 parter but still. i want these. #ep 8 is where the next part will begin if i have one of these for the next section. i might just wait until the series ends #depends on how i feel/when i remember ya know #okay now its time to whine #Blazar! Do more salutations! #that one article i reblogged says this act might be in reference to praying to a higher power for a good hunt #but ive been comparing it mentally to like. bowing before a fight with an opponent you know. a sign of respect a sign of a fight. #hell the fact that i call it a salutation is because it reminds of the yoga move sun salutation which isnt a fighting thing but is a #salutation. and blazars thing is about communication/trying to communicate #ah well. as usual hope i get more info on blazar asap #i love him so much <3

[samarecharm]

Random question about the “they should make persona for people who like good games” post. Do people think the persona series is that bad? I know they aren’t perfect but I wouldn’t call them bad games.

I had a wholeass essay written out before i realized im too tired to make it sound coherent. AND my only experience is p 4 and 5, so my opinion on it means jack shit. All i can say is that the most recent titles suffer from bad writing. (And repetitive gameplay, but thats a different issue). Be it poorly written characters and dialogue, or poorly written interactions and plot, it is hard to take some of the stuff in the more recent games at face value. One could argue that that just means the game is subpar, not necessarily bad, but thats subjective; bad means different things to different people. And i say this as someone who thinks this game is Not the best but still found it incredibly engaging and entertaining.

#chattin #i am the kind of person to write video essay length posts on games that disappointed me LOL #so i am the wrong person to ask #remember that when thinking about the quality of a game; you should ask urself #who is the target audience? is it accessible to this audience? do i need an outside source to keep up with this game ? (like a guide) #if its in a series; what does it do to separate itself from the others? #is the writing okay? characters? interactions( #? #insensitive content ? #how is it handled? the game may me okay for me but can I have my fat friends enjoy this game??? #can i have my trans friends and gay male friends enjoy this game??? #who can i recommend it to? my sister is unable to process all of the social links and requirements for these social links #so she just. doesnt do it. she IS the target audience bc she likes rpgs #and she likes the story and characters. but its too overwhelming #and the social links would be overwhelming regardless of the difficulty #are u meant to enjoy the game in one playthrough or across multiple runs?? #is it WORTH it to do those runs? for a game that has ‘choices’ it is painfully linear #and it confuses people who are trying to follow the rules (do things in my free time to build confidants) #when theyre unable to actually hang out w confidants bc of a rush of mandatory scenes #velvet room fusions are a pain and overly complex #and the game stops being about making a good build #and it starts to become ‘make a shadow null to everything bc the game will keep instakilling you’ #forcing a game over when ur main character dies is ALWAYS bad to me i will swear by this #u make more interesting builds when u arent scared of a gameover #weh. rambling #the game is as bad or good as u want it to br #people clearly love it; we talk about our faves all the time. but how many of us are replaying a game meant to be replayed. not many.

[lavender---sunshine]

Had a big day but I'm desperately needing more small days

#i got a lot of things done today! #got my car cleaned (and seats shampooed from my little adventure last Sunday) and got gas #a bit of shopping done at target #did grocery shopping and got the last few ingredients for my cheese board #did 6 loads of laundry! AND cleaned my bathroom #made the cheeseboard and bacon wraped dates #put away the laundry and picked out my clothes for tomorrow #tomorrow the ceo is in the office so i dont want to dress up lol i'll take a costume tho #i was so productive today but i wish i could have done this over the course of two days #and being able to rest more while getting a whole weeks worth of chores done #i feel a bit sad. its going to be like this for a while #and today is Halloween and i while i was able to fit in some seasonal activities i wasnt really feeling it this year #too much going on I think #i did do the haunted trail and a pumpkin patch which are my two big ones but didnt get any pictures #of me in a cute outfit like I wanted #and i haven't had time to watch any scary movies (or dont look under the bed) #or reread the series i like to read this time of year #i had to get rent and quarters for laundry and answer work emails in the store #and i cant help feeling that im at this final little edge to my young adulthood. not a child not a teen not a young adult. just an adult #with no time and responsibilities and trying to find fun in the gaps and romanticizing my iced coffee #also! my dad asked me for money to fix my brother's windshield and im still having feelings about that #but ah off to bed. nervous to meet my boss today. everyone talks about how scary he is #i have some time off in January. maybe I'll take a trip

[oatmealaddiction]

Okay but the weirdest thing about the whole "Brotherhood is better you should skip 03" discourse that's become commonplace now, it sort of forgets the world Brotherhood came out in and why you should watch the original Fullmetal Alchemist. When Brotherhood came out, the original Fullmetal Alchemist was one of the most beloved and most watched animes of all time. Brotherhood assumes you the audience have already seen it because of course you have, everyone has seen it, so it skips important information and speeds the story up because it doesn't want to bore you with things you already know. Have you ever wondered "hey why does the first episode of Brotherhood kind of suck, and why am I being introduced to like 50 new characters, and why are they acting like I know what the hell an alchemist is?" It's because Brotherhood thinks you've seen 03.

The first 7 or so episodes of Brotherhood constitute dozens of chapters in the manga, and the first 25 or so episodes of the original Fullmetal Alchemist. The Nina Tucker episode in Brotherhood, in FMA 03 takes up nearly three episodes. Yoki gets a backstory in 03 and it's genuinely one of the best episodes and taken directly from the manga and Brotherhood glosses over it because: duh, you've already seen it. And so if you skip the original you miss out on dozens of really great character building episodes like Ed and Al meeting Hughes for the first time and getting to spend a whole episode helping him free a train from terrorists, or Ed and Roy having a duel that expands on the relationship they have, or episodes where the brothers just help out random people in towns before the major story gets going.

The original also paces itself quite a bit better than Brotherhood and is more in line with the mangas storytelling. In the manga we don't find out about The Gate until nearly two dozen chapters in, and the same goes for the original anime. Like, that's a twist reveal in those stories, and it's weird that the most watched series is the one where they tell you all about The Gate in the first two episodes because they assume you've already seen the original show.

What's more, people don't know that Hiromu Arakawa helped write for the anime while she was still in the middle of writing the manga, and as a result was inspired to write scenes in Brotherhood that the anime did first. That scene of Edward getting impaled by a falling beam? Directly inspired by a similar scene in the original anime. There's a lot of little instances of that and they're great when you can recognize parallels and things in Brotherhood that are direct references to the original anime, but people don't notice any of that anymore. Because the original anime is just an automatic skip these days, and it's a bummer because people don't realize what a giant it was back before Brotherhood was released. They treat it as *bad,* not realizing it was one of the most beloved anime of its time and the problems people take issue with have a lot more to do with personal taste than any kind of actual flaw in the writing. Brotherhood was never meant to dethrone it, and the original anime was always supposed to be part of the viewing experience which is why those first few episodes of Brotherhood are so fast paced. So like, please stop telling people Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 is a skip, or it's bad, or you don't need it because Brotherhood is better. Regardless if you think Brotherhood is better or not, the original wrote Brotherhood's check. It was huge, it was beloved, and Brotherhood is *banking* on the knowledge you've seen all of it and loved it. And trust me when I say there is so much to love about the original series. It's still my favorite branch of the FMA franchise, and it's worth your time, I promise you.

#Fma 03 #FMA #fullmetal alchemist #Fma:b #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #fma brotherhood #Legitimately though the original is so fucking good #The music alone makes it worth the watch #Also the art direction is better fight me #mild spoilers

[predestinatos]

you mean everything - MV1 ೀ⋆｡🌷

summary: max needed a wedding date and you were used to being his fake partner.

tags: max verstappen x fem!reader, fake dating, friends to lovers, max is so whipped, fluff, a bit angsty maybe?, mentions of alcohol

word count: 2k

notes: i've been writing (and thinking) so much about max... my period is coming please give me a break i'm sensitive. also would love to get some feedback if possible so i know if it's worth making a series out of this!!!!

"If you want to make it believable at least hold my hand" you half-whispered to Max, who was buttoning his blazer while getting out of the car, you behind him.

"Sorry, I'm not used to this with you" he said chuckling. His sweaty palm held yours tightly, and the feeling of it was odd. Knowing Max for so long meant that these romantic gestures felt almost cringeworthy to you both, and you both had to put up award winning performances every time you played this game.

The game in question being fake-dating. It started as a funny joke where you both thought it would be great to test out the Get A Champagne Bottle For Free At This Restaurant If You Propose theory (which worked, by the way). From then onwards, you used each other as dates whenever asked by annoying family members, creepy coworkers, or just because you felt like lying.

The talking wasn't hard - you both felt comfortable in that part, lying with words coming off almost dangerously natural - but when it came to acting the part, both of you felt awkward, like kids who found relationships absolutely repulsive.

This time, though, the performance would last longer than usual: it was a wedding. Max's friend's wedding. Max could've just gone along, or bring a friend (even you as a friend). Yet he had told his friend, after one too many shots on his Bachelor's Party, and after being chosen as The Guy Who'll Take the Longest to Settle, that he had, in fact, a girlfriend. His friends didn't believe him, so he showed a picture of you two together - a selfie really, nothing much. And they still said they didn't believe it. So here you are.

You couldn't blame him, even if you wanted to. You agreed to use each other as a fake partner for as long as you could in as many situations as required, although when it all started none of you ever thought it would lead to wedding attendances.

So now there you were, Max's hand on yours, entering the small church. His eyes locked with the groom, who waved and called for you to sit near the altar.

"So you ARE real" he said, nervousness laced in his voice even as he tried to lighten the mood himself. You giggled at the irony of it, nodding as you said your congratulations.

"Just wait until the guys see this" he continued gesturing towards the bench where 3 other men around his age sat. Men you had seen before in some Instagram pictures, men you spent the previous night trying to memorize basic information about so you didn't sound suspicious.

Max's hand now fell on your waist almost instinctively - it wasn't instinctively, he told himself once he noticed its positioning. And if it was, it was only because he took this so seriously, almost as a sort of method acting. Sitting down next to his friends, he noticed how all of them seemed surprised at your presence, and something like pride filled his chest. He loved winning, loved being right even if he was lying; but most especially, he loved how jealous other men seemed to be over the fact that he was (at least in their minds) dating you.

He couldn't deny - though he tried, really - that you two looked good together. His rougher features mixed with your softer ones gave you both an aura of near unreachability, which yes, was pretentious of him to think but he thought nevertheless.

The ceremony was quick and endearing, a smile spread across everyone's faces at the shared loved between the bride and the groom. As the crowd clapped, Max leaned into you, "don't tell me you're crying". "I am, just to think that I'll have to keep pretending to date YOU for the next 10 hours" you replied, his mocking smile recognizing the joke.

The reception hall was beautifully decorated with shades of soft green and violet orchids. Max tried not to think about how much it matched the shade of your dress, how you looked like you had come to life from a classical novel. He tried to feel like anyone but Mr. Darcy as you felt so much like Elisabeth Bennett to him.

Sitting down next to him, you found this part easier - mingling and socializing was something you enjoyed more than he did - especially with alcohol in the mix. It's a wedding, you thought; this is what weddings are for.

So you drank the wine with the main course and sipper champagne to celebrate and ordered a few cocktails when it was time to dance and talk - and you felt it on your body almost as much as you felt Max's hand occasionally sitting on your thigh, but not even close to how strongly you felt his thumb caress your skin as he did so. Truth was, he too was drunk; his eyes looked smaller and his cheeks were flushed, and the amount of times he ran a hair through his dirty blonde hair had caused it to look messier. As you looked at him, you felt he never looks as attractive as when he is like this - loose and carefree, his shirt sleeves rolled up and a smile on his face when he notices people laugh at his joke.

"I have to admit I didn't think it was true" his friend said when Max left to go to the bathroom. He looked drunker than the two of you combined, his words hard to decypher, like a riddle. "He's been talking about you for months now and we never saw you for real so we thought you didn't exist" he laughed, and you laughed back before it registered.

"Months?" you asked him, eyebrows furrowed yet attempting to remain composed. You shouldn't have asked it - a supposedly month old girlfriend wouldn't be surprised but you were his fake month old girlfriend and you weren't understanding it anymore.

"Yeah. He talks about you so much all the time I think even we started to date you" he laughed again, yet this time you didn't find the joke so funny. You were frozen in your seat, merely blinking as if trying to put the confusing puzzle together, the pieces not quite fitting the way you thought they would.

A touch on your shoulder unfroze you, almost like magic, like a disney film come to life. You turned around to find the groom, somewhat sober, smiling at you while also looking somewhat concerned. "He's calling for you... And he's also absolutely wasted" he said, pointing to the door of the hall.

"Shit" you cursed, getting up from your seat at a speed you couldn't believe, worry filling your heart, making you forget the conversation you were just having.

Opening the door to the garden outside, you found Max sitting down against the wall, shirt partly unbuttoned and disheveled hair. When he saw you, he grinned, such genuine happiness laced with tipsiness.

"Lightweight" you mocked as you crouched in front of him, trying to balance yourself on your heels, somehow managing it despite your own drunkness.

"You're laughing at my mis- Shit- my misery" his throat bobbed up and down, exaggerating his own agony with a hand on his chest and another on his forehead like a Shakespeare character.

"I have to admit it's quite fun sometimes" you bit your lip as you fixed his hair as best as you could, hands brushing through its soft, blonde mess.

"You're so– you're so sweet" he said, his words dragged and messy. He brought a beer bottle to his lips but you stopped him before any liquid touched them.

"I think that's enough of that for tonight" you grabbed it and placed it behind you, sitting in front of him.

"See now... Now you're being mean" his hand grabbed a strand of your hair and played with it softly as he pouted.

"Okay big boy I'm gonna get you some water" you say, getting up once again, yet his hand stops you, grabbing your wrist tightly.

You looked at him, startled. His drunken state is visible, and it felt frustrating that you had to be the one sobering up for him. The music vibrated through the wall he leaned against, somehow tickling him, making him giggle.

"Stay," he managed to say, eyes half closed, "I'm so glad we're- Fuck things are spinning so much" his hands rushed to his eyes and his head hung low, "Ah fuck. I'm so glad we're datin- Fuck, no, oops-" he continued laughing despite how sick he felt, the whole situation sounding hilarious when filtered through alcohol.

You giggled along with him, mostly because you wanted to see if you could convince him to move, scared he might feel worse or pass out on the cold floor if he doesn't do so. "Fake dating. Fake dating, I know. I knowww" he continued, his words dragged and his finger pointing at you before poking your nose with such innocent sweetness you were taken aback.

"Max" you tried to sound more assertive but found it hard to do so, your own intoxicated state making the situation lighter than what it actually was. Your heart racing was a symptom of it, one you wouldn't feel if sobriety was an option, you thought. Max's eyes wouldn't seem to stare at you differently were he sober as well, and the way he scanned your features, his gaze staying on your lips for longer than expected, wouldn't affect you in the slightest had you not drank some alcohol.

"I like it when you say my name" he looked up at you innocently, pleading, almost.

"Want me to say it again?" you asked, smiling. You complied with these demands because you knew they were childish whims of an intoxicated man, his happiness a priority in times like these. Upon his nod, you started saying his name, half teasingly, half reassuringly, the leaves rustling in the garden behind you.

"Max... Max!! Max Max-"

He shouldn't. It would complicate things, and he liked when they were simple, clean and organized. He knew he shouldn't even when his whole vision spun and his brain convinced him that he should do things he would never do otherwise. But every time he refrained from saying something he would stumble across all his words and trip and fall and his head would only hurt more, and it seemed as if he could only focus if he kept listening to you and talking to you and looking at you.

The lights shone behind you in a way that made it feel as though he was dreaming, like you were a mirage, too good to be true. Maybe his friends were right - you weren't actually real. He wanted to be sure, in that moment. That you were real and that he wanted you as much as he thought. And though he shouldn't, though it was a terrible idea, he couldn't help but lean over to kiss you.

He tasted like champagne - bubbly and slightly sweet, his movements sloppy given his state, yet you couldn't help but drink it all in. Part of you - a big part - reciprocated the kiss, felt his fingers on the side of your neck, pulling you messily towards him, and tried to steady him, guiding him gently with your own lips.

It was odd, how this felt so right yet the fake hand holding didn't. As Max kissed you, that thought entered his clouded mind - did it feel wrong because it was fake and this was real? Your skin felt so soft, so much softer now he could touch it freely and unapologetically.

"Fuck-" he started, pulling away, his head resting against the wall once again as he stared at you, noticing how it hasn't hit you yet; what you just did, how it affected everything. "I fucking love you" he shrugged as you fixed your hair, pausing with arms raised for a few seconds before smiling softly.

"You're drunk" you replied, looking at his own grin, the gleam in his eyes making him appear both innocent and guilty of so many things.

"I'm drunk and I fucking love you"

"Max..." you started, and he said your name back to you with such tenderness you couldn't believe his lips tasted of alcohol earlier and not something sweet.

"We'll talk tomorrow, okay?" you continued, waiting for the silence to swallow you both.

#max verstappen #f1 #max verstappen x reader #formula 1 #formula one #f1blr #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula one x you #formula one x reader #formula one x y/n #formula 1 x reader

[too-deviant]

jackie and wilson.

previous | next series masterlist

summary: you haven’t been given a quest, but you have made it your personal mission to make luke castellan smile.

pairing: luke castellan x unclaimed!reader

word count: 4.1k

content: broody!luke, teenage dirtbag!luke but also not really, sprinkles of mean!luke, r is unbothered and does not gaf about his lil emo boy act, this is four thousand words of r being a pain in luke’s ass, probs will make a part 2 bc i love them your honour 

notes:  speaking my truth: i am a british gal. any banter in this about the new england states is entirely stuff i got from reddit so plz don’t scrutinise my american states knowledge

the layout of this fic is very much inspired by @murdrdocs if that wasn’t obvious but also icarus if u want me to change it i will jus say the word :00

PART I — she blows outta nowhere, roman candle of the wild 

All things considered, you took the news of your heritage pretty well. 

Sure, there was a lot of yelling — mostly through the wall after you locked yourself in your room and started packing a bag — but at least you didn’t sit on it in denial for several hours. 

Honestly, you should’ve seen it coming. 

The first time you realised you could see things nobody else could, you tried to admit yourself into a ward. Your mom went a little panicky, and she never did perform well under pressure, so she caved and said you were special. Too special for the other kids at your school, too special for anyone to know about it. 

After that, she got more tense. Eyes darting around whenever you guys went out in public, hand lingering for a second longer on your back before she sent you to school — as if she felt like she’d never see you again. She would stay up at night and read you old Greek tales before you went to sleep, and acted way too serious about it. More serious than when she would read you Dr Seuss. 

Honestly, it was a miracle you went unknowing for so long. Maybe you were insignificant, or maybe the Stymphalian Pigeon that tried to kill you after school was just slow — because you were seventeen when you got attacked by your first monster. 

You took it out pretty easily — and by that, I mean you outran it through the bustling streets of your hometown until it flew messily into a bus and you dodged your way to your apartment in a flurry. Your mom’s resolve cracked like a thin layer of ice and you were packed and ready to go to this camp she spoke of before the clock had hit four-thirty. 

Most of the yelling that you guys did was along the lines of — “I can’t believe you waited this long to tell me!” — and — “I didn’t want you to leave!” — “I get that, but seriously mom, I almost got eaten by a bird today. A little context going in would’ve been nice!”

You threw yourself into a taxi — much to the disdain of your mother, who insisted on at least getting you to the hill. You then reminded her that she would have to pay the fare all the way back to their apartment and it honestly wouldn’t be worth it and that you’d call her when you got the chance. She let you go with a huff, folding her arms across her chest and creasing the silky material of her pink blouse. 

The next hour was about as awkward as taxi rides go, even more so when you got out in the middle of nowhere. You weren’t even sure you were at the bottom of the right hill but sent the poor guy on his way anyway and prayed to whoever your divine parent was that you weren’t about to get gunned down by an angry farmer for mistaking his land for a summer camp. 

Thankfully, the empty fields shimmered into something worth travelling for when you took a tentative step across its threshold. The sun seemed to get brighter and the breeze became softer. It was nice from where you stood, and it probably would’ve gotten nicer the closer you got. 

Had you not tripped over a rock and tumbled down the hill ungracefully, landing in a heap at the bottom, a few feet away from a dirt path that split off in two directions. You sat up with a huff, blowing your hair out of your eyes and squinting at your surroundings now that they were much closer. You didn’t bother to heave yourself up, catching your breath and letting your gaze flitter over the scenery. 

It was cute. 

Then the distinct sound of horse hooves clipping against the ground evaded your ears, and you looked up to greet the centaur who now stood above you. You thanked the gods for your moms intricately detailed bedtime stories as you pulled yourself up onto your feet and allowed yourself to be introduced to Chiron and Mr. D, who then led you to the four story house that overlooked the valley. 

Your induction was swift and sweet — since you pretty much knew and had accepted everything already. There were a couple of glances and muttered comments about how you had gone so long without being targeted, but Chiron had said he wanted you to get the tour before dinner so you could settle straight to bed after the campfire, and caught some young kid by the t-shirt as he ran past, asking him politely if he could send Luke over. 

The awkward two minutes it took for your tour guide to reach you stretched on for a painful amount of time, but you would relive it a hundred times over if it meant you didn’t have to experience the agony you called your first meeting with Luke Castellan. 

He was tall, with a dark mop of curls that hung over his furrowed brows. His skin was tanned from all the time he spent in the sun, and his shoulders were broad enough to intimidate, but not broad enough that you were intimidated. He was your age, seemingly, and the cuffs of his green cargo pants brushed against his ankles only an inch higher than they would sit on an average person.

His most memorable feature, however, had to be the deep scar that stretched from the top of his left brow all the way to his cheekbone — it was jagged and sharp, cutting across his eye roughly, as if he had been clawed. He probably had. It was raised and shone pink under the sun, so you could tell it was fairly new, but it had healed over enough to indicate that Luke was probably tired of hearing people ask about it. So you didn’t. You barely gave it a glance before you raised your brows at him with a cheeky grin and gave him your name. 

He nodded minutely, one of the only movements he made after he’d parked himself in front of you other than the sliding of his eyes from one person to another as they spoke to him. After Chiron and Mr D had given him the rundown, he gave a slight nod of his head in one direction before walking away and expecting you to follow. 

You caught up to him, sidling up on his left with a huff and a smile, “I’m getting the feeling that you're sorta sick of this giving this tour all the time.” 

He didn’t respond. He just looked at you, and then stopped walking, watching as you froze two steps ahead of him before shuffling back to his side sheepishly. Then he lifted an unbothered hand to the right, “Those are the strawberry fields.” He then gestured ahead, “That’s the beach.” And then to the left, “Those are the training fields.”

Then he started walking again, and you hesitated for only a second before following, “Wow. Don’t give me too much information all at once.” 

Your sarcastic comment was ignored, and Luke nodded towards the bank of cabins you were nearing, “These are the cabins. Twelve. One for each Olympian. You’ll stay in the Hermes cabin until you’re claimed.”

“Right.” You nodded, “God of Travellers. Makes sense.” 

He let out a breath, not pausing in his stride as he passed through the curve of houses, not sparing a glance to any of them. You took notice of how the other kids looked at him in apprehension, with a hint of fear when he got too close. He cut down an alley between two cabins — one with a dangerous amount of barbed wire across the top and another that glowed gold under the sunlight — before the pair emerged through the trees at a pavilion. 

“This is where we eat.” He said. “Dinner is soon.” 

“Cool.” You nodded, “What are the options? Because if food here is lacking, then I will be packing.” 

You let out a useless chuckle at your own joke, but it landed flat. “Yeah, that wasn’t funny.” You muttered lowly. With a click of your tongue, you glanced over the horizon and pointed at something from afar. A tall structure that stuck out the tops of the trees, “What’s that?”

“The climbing wall.” Luke answered plainly. 

“And that?” 

“The Amphitheatre.”

You looked up at him, pulling a face he didn’t bother to glance at. Then you noticed a bunch of campers filing through the trees and into the pavilion the two of you stood at the edge of. They entered in groups and made their way to their designated tables, chattering and gossiping as they did. 

You looked at Luke, “Well, that was…great. Truly, a riveting experience. I will say, though — your delivery needs some work. The dark and gloomy act works most of the time, but not when you’re giving a guided tour.”

That got him to look at you, and you held back your triumphant smirk. He frowned, “What?”

You shrugged, “I’m just saying, nobody is going to listen to you talk about this place if you describe it like this.” You lowered your tone into a subpar impression of his voice, and you swore you saw his brows twitch. Clearing your throat, you waved a hand, “No need to worry about that now, though. Just point me in the direction of the Hermes table and I’ll be out of your strangely well-conditioned hair.”

Another eyebrow twitch. You were getting the hang of this. Maybe one day you could get him to move other parts of his face! 

You half expected the boy to ignore you and walk off — and he did. But it was in the direction of the Hermes table, so you counted it as him showing you the way. Most of the campers were seated by the time you’d arrived, and you were thus forced to sit yourself on the end of the bench, uncomfortably beside him. He was unbothered. 

During dinner you were swiftly introduced to some of your peers — Chris Rodriguez gave you a lopsided grin and informed you politely that you would need to sacrifice some of your food before you got stuck into it. Travis and Connor Stoll sidled up on either side of you as you grumbled at the hearth, and yapped your ear off about the fundamentals of camp. 

(So all the sneaky stuff Chiron doesn’t know about. Like how you can skip out on archery training if Lee is the one running it because he never has it in him to snitch. Or that the pegasi stables were the go-to hook up spot for summer campers, but the back of the Amphitheater was the go-to hook up spot for the year-rounders. When you asked what the difference was, they winked, and when you asked what happened if a year-rounder hooked up with a summer camper, they chuckled and walked off.)

Chiron gave you an introduction that made you feel like a new kid being asked to tell the class one fun fact about yourself, and around six kids at your table asked if it hurt when you fell down the hill. 

Overall, a good first night. As far as first nights at a summer camp for half-gods goes. By the time all the campers had gone back to their respective cabins, you were ready to turn in and clock out for the day. 

But you wanted to try one more time. Last attempt, and then you’d let it go. 

When Luke — who you had discovered earlier was the counsellor of the Hermes cabin, and apparently a role model for the kids — came over and silently handed you a folded orange shirt with a leather cord sitting on top of it, you smirked. 

“Hey, now we can match. How cute.” 

He blinked at you, “Everyone is wearing the same thing.”

“The same shirts, you mean.” You tilted your head, “But we’re both wearing green cargos. And white socks. White sneakers.” Your grin widened as you watched his eyes flit down your form, taking in the outfit you had on. You were right — the only difference between you two was the white tank top you had on, soon to be replaced by the shirt he had just handed to you. You thought for a moment that it would work, that he would make a face, or say more than two sentences to you in response. 

But he didn’t. He just huffed and walked away, and you watched with an appalled expression. You narrowed your eyes. 

Okay, so maybe you weren’t ready to let it go yet. 

The next morning, you were rudely awakened by a small child who was sprawled across your torso, having shifted from his own sleeping bag that was beside yours. He couldn’t have been any older than six, his orange camp shirt sitting like a dress on him, and if he wasn’t snoring into your chest, you would’ve thought he was adorable. 

But you really needed to pee. 

After you slowly but surely lifted him back onto his own pillow, you stood up with a stretch and stepped precariously over the other kids, balancing carefully on the tips of your toes so you didn’t step on any of them. The sun was barely rising, and you were the only one awake, so you held your breath and reached out for the handle of the bathroom door. 

“That’s not your bathroom.”

You flinched, losing your balance and toppling back. A hand between your shoulder blades prevented you from crushing any of the kids on the floor, and you steadied yourself before meeting the eyes of the person who spoke. 

Luke was staring intently at you, his eyes blinking hard as if he’d only just woken up. He was in nothing but a pair of blue sweat-shorts and you fought the urge to rake your eyes over his bare torso, watching as he lowered his hand back to his side, “That’s the counsellor's bathroom.”

“Right.” Came a low mutter, under your breath. Then louder, you asked, “Well, where is the campers bathroom?”

“Outside.” He answered, “Around the back of the cabins.”

“Out—“ You started, and then realised everyone else was asleep and swiftly lowered your volume, but kept your expression exaggerated. Wide eyes, furrowed brows. “Outside?”

“Yes.”

“But…it’s cold out there.”

“We have a controlled climate.” He said, folding his arms across his chest. His biceps tensed, “It’s never cold.”

You let out a sigh, throwing your thumb over your shoulder and pointing at the door, “Can’t I just use this one? You aren’t using it, and everyone else is asleep, they’d never know!” 

He stared at you blankly and stayed silent for a long time. You wouldn’t be surprised if he just never said anything until you walked away, which you were well prepared to do, letting out a deep breath and folding your own arms over to preserve heat as you clambered towards the front door, muttering complaints under your breath the whole time. You made it three feet (or two sleeping bags) away from him when he finally piped up. 

“Be quick.” 

Turning around, Luke was already making his way back to his own bed, and you ogled shamelessly at his back muscles as you shuffled to his bathroom and made your way inside. You did your business quickly as requested and washed your hands under the low pressure of the sink before cracking the door open once more. The cabin was the same, everyone else still sleeping calmly. Luke was standing by his bunk, now clad in black shorts and his camp shirt. He paid you no mind when you padded back to your sleeping bag, grabbing your bag and stifling through the clothes you had packed. 

You walked up to breakfast with the unclaimed girl you had met the previous night — Lana — and listened and she told you intently about the lore of Luke Castellan. 

“He never used to be the way he is. He was happier before, always grinning. More than ready to help anyone here. He was…well, everyone either wanted to be with him or be him.”

“And then what happened?”

“He went on a quest. It went wrong. He came back with that ugly scar and he hasn’t been the same since.”

You made a comment that the scar wasn’t ugly, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d add on that it made him look pretty hot. But you did know better, and you knew that Luke was three people ahead of you in the line and could probably hear what you were saying. So you kept that tidbit to yourself and ate your cereal in silence. 

When breakfast was over, you stood from the bench and turned, only to stop short when you realised Luke was standing behind you. Looking up at him, you raised a brow, “Yes?”

“I’m showing you around today.”

“You showed me around yesterday.”

His lips tightened, “We’re actually doing stuff today. Seeing what you’re good at.”

“Oh.” You ran your tongue over your teeth and nodded, “Well, where do we start?”

“Archery.” 

Turns out, you were pretty awful at archery. Even after you’d stopped firing arrows into the treeline, you still never hit the middle of the target. Lee had to correct your posture four times, and you broke six arrows. Eventually, you decided that Apollo was not your father, and shuffled over to where Luke stood beneath the shade of a tree — where he had been standing the whole hour. 

“Y’know, just because you’ve got this broody bad boy thing going on, doesn’t mean you have to linger in the shadows all the time.” You commented, picking at your fingernails and readjusting the long sleeve you wore under your camp shirt, “You just look weird.” 

Luke pointed at your cheekbone, “You’re bleeding.” 

You huffed, “I know.” You kept holding your bow too close to the side of your face and the feathers of the arrows kept scratching you whenever you let them fly. Lee mentioned how most people make that mistake the first time round, but you’d done it so much that he’d cut your lesson short and told you to get a bandaid from one of his siblings. You didn’t. 

He stared at your cut for a moment, like he was thinking hard about something. But he didn’t, and pushed himself off the tree he was leaning against and brushed past you, “Let’s go to the forges.”

You were better at blacksmithing than you were at archery, but the sword Charles Beckendorf was helping you weld still came out wonky and discoloured. He was a nice kid, funny, and your lowered spirits from your previous task had been quickly uplifted despite you not having much skill in his department. He let you keep the sword anyway, and you swung it jokingly at Luke as he led you to the Amphitheater. 

You made swooshing noises as you did so, chuckling when he didn’t so much as flinch, “Don’t act so tough, Castellan, I could take you out even with a dodgy sword.”

“You couldn’t.” He muttered, “I’m the best sword fighter here.”

You let out an over dramatic gasp, running ahead and swivelling around so you could meet his eyes, “Holy shit, was that…did you just…tell me something about yourself?” You grinned and his frown deepened, “Aw, Luke. We’re getting somewhere! This is amazing, I’m so proud. Soon enough we’ll be best frien — “

Before you could finish your incessant teasing, Luke grabbed your forearm and yanked you in front of him just as a kid on an out-of-control Pegasus toppled past you. You watched him disappear in mild shock, before looking back at the boy in front of you, “Hey, thanks. Almost got trampled. How embarrassing.”

He narrowed his gaze, “Do you not take anything seriously?”

You shrugged, “Not really. I’d ask you the same question, but…” You made a face. It was obvious that he was very serious, even if he never used to be. 

“Let’s go.” Was his boring response, moving swiftly past you and into the Amphitheatre so quickly you would’ve assumed he was trying to get away from you. (Which he definitely was).

You weren’t really all that bothered, not when you were having so much fun pissing him off. 

It took all of ten minutes for Luke to put your sword fighting lesson to an end. Not only had you insisted on fighting with the wonky sword rather than a working training one, you also kept pushing him with your hands whenever he got too close. 

“That’s not how you’re supposed to do it.”

“Hey, it’s working, isn’t it?” 

You were pretty shit at it anyway, so you didn’t fight him when he said you were cutting your lesson short. You simply tucked your weapon onto the sheath he’d handed you and followed him down the hill to the dining pavilion. 

“So, where are you from?”

He didn’t answer you for a couple of minutes, something you’d been well prepared for. But you couldn’t help but ask — he intrigued you. A little too much, maybe. 

You continued, “Because you seem like a Mass guy.”

Luke stopped in his tracks, turning to you, “Mass…achusetts?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, fighting off your amused smile when he pulled a face. Finally, an expression!

Truth was, Lana had told you he was from Connecticut. You just wanted to see how he’d react, if he would react at all — apparently he isn’t immune to everything. 

“I’m from CT.” He made it very clear, and you tried your hardest not to laugh. “Okay? I'm not some Boston Masshole, got it?”

You raised your hands in surrender, “Got it.” 

He stared at you for a second longer, as if to ensure you really did have it. Squinting at your amused smile before nodding and continuing his walk. You thought it would go back to silence, but apparently you’d lit a fuse. 

“I mean, what makes you think I'm from MA?” He asked, his tone of voice so appalled you’d think he’d been accused of some sort of crime. “Do I smell like shit?”

A chuckle, “What?”

But he just whirled on you once more, lifting his arm and gesturing to his pit, “Do I? Do I stink of shit?” 

You didn’t feel like sniffing him, so you just shook your head, still laughing, “No.” 

“Then what — ?” He stopped, narrowed his eyes, “Where are you from?”

You tried to hide your smile, but it was getting really difficult. The last two days he’d been nothing but broody and miserable, one word quips being his only form of communication other than dark frowns. But one mention of Mass and he’s suddenly down to chit chat? You couldn’t help but laugh — unfortunately, it only spurred him on. 

“You think this is funny?” He scoffed, nodding, “Yeah, bet you’re from Maine too.”

Your laughter continued, little giggles spilling out of you whenever you thought about the situation too hard. You shrugged, “I don’t think I wanna tell you after this.”

Luke nodded like he was expecting you to say that, “Something a Mainer would say, I’m sure.”

You grinned wide, very proud of yourself for getting a visceral reaction out of the boy — even if you had to piss him off to do it. Just as you went to reply with a witty comeback that would have him ranting and raving for the rest of the night, the dinner conch sounded, interrupting what you’re sure would’ve been a very entertaining conversation. 

You walked on past him, not stopping, but slowing down so you could cough into your fist, “Flatlander.”

You didn’t look back but you did hear him scoff in shock, and you were sure he stood there frozen for at least twenty seconds because he entered the pavilion way later than you did. He made a point to fix you with an annoyed stare as he sat down a few people away from you — and Chris raised a brow. 

“What’d you do to him?”

You shrugged, digging into your mashed potatoes before anyone could tell you to wait until you’d made your offering, “Told him he looked like a Bay Stater.”

He chuckled, wincing under his breath and shaking his head, “You’re evil. I like it.”

You smirked and said nothing — but whenever your eyes flickered over to Luke, his were just flickering away from you.

#@lia’s works #joined a new england subreddit for this fic #so pls give it some love #taking requests #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #pjo

[joonipertree]

To show someone that you care, is a gift itself. | Sugar Daddy Bakugo Series

Where you show Katsuki what a gift can be.

Tags: Artist!reader, very self indulgent, like guys....please buy me watercolour paper instead of Versace. Watercolour paper is stupid expensive. Im also not skilled enough to actually make the gift so--

Pt 1 Pt 3

Katsuki's birthday had been looming when the two of you started going out, like a weighted shadow. You had spent a very long stressing about what to get him with a budget that wasn't even worth a fraction of what he would buy you.

But, like gift giving was Katsuki's, it was your love language as well. And you'd gotten good at getting heart felt things for people. Admittedly, it took a lot of brainstorming and notes upon notes of what to get.

You'd always go overboard to please the people you cared about, afraid that they'll leave if you didn't cross the limits and bend over backwards for them.

Katsuki had always taken care of you, never asked for anything and your love was returned albeit in a quieter and tsundere manner. So the urge to go above and beyond didn't fester for long, knowing that your bare presence made him warmer.

Your gift idea came when he was on the ring, swift on his feet and solid in the rigidness of his body. You'd brought your sketchbook and while you wanted to keep your eyes on your boyfriend, your hands became busy with large curves and sharp flicks of your pencil that brought dark edges .

You'd made at least 20 quick gestures drawings that were more crude representations of movement for you. But with those and the feelings you trapped in your heart, you made thumbnails and chose one to draw large scale.

One where Katsuki's face was partially blocked by his arm and he gave a blow. His elbows were jagged, muscles taut and rippling. And his eyes sharp and cat like.

The charcoal pencils and sticks used to create tapered lines to create hard surfaces was 340 yen. The watercolour pallete used had messy paint splattered everywhere and its lid broken, having been with you for a good while. The coat over the charcoal was 50 yen hair spray that worked just as well as professional sprays.

It didn't cost a lot but your hands were full of care and by the end of it, you hoped that it'd be something Katsuki would at least like. The man could have the world but all you had was you.

You didn't realize that you were more than enough

Katsuki to lost his voice when you handed it to him at midnight, eyes wide as he stared at him but not him. The layers on layers of paint held emotions that he could only describe as love, meticulously hand picked and felt in strokes. He'd seen HD pictures of his fights, seen videos of them where his sweat and pores were as clear as day. The most he'd thought of them were how his form could improve or how cool he looked.

But what you made, it twisted something in his chest and stung his eyes and filled him to the brim with love so warm and overwhelming that his body wasn't big enough to hold it.

You two had been dating for 4 months, Katsuki had spent that time falling in love with you in ways he didn't think possible. He'd fall with every giggle and kiss and ramble and your face when you were concentrating. He'd never said 'I love you', hoping his actions showed it enough, still too scared to speak it in case it was met with hesitance or silence.

But Katsuki had gently put down the canvas, something you that you'd built, stretched and primed yourself. And while you made eye contact with the walls and ceiling, you explained how the only thing you could come up with was the painting, that you wanted to capture the emotions you felt when you saw him fight. That it wasn't much but---

Katsuki had engulfed you in a hug, hand on the back of your head to press it against him and an arm around your waist. He squeezed you, tried to express all that he was feeling with one hug alone. You felt it, held him tightly and carded your fingers through his hair. With his shoulders shaking, you had an inkling that he had been crying. When he spoke, with a wobbly voice, you were sure that he was.

"I love you." He'd muttered out for the first time.

"I love you more." You whispered back and Katsuki had firmly denied it, that no one could love a person as much as he loved you.

Getting a gift for you became hard after that, because Katsuki sucked at making shit.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugou #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bnha fic #bnha x reader #bnha headcannons #bnha fanfiction

[cherrifire]

Please share your thoughts on the other 5 cutie marks, I'd love to hear!

Hi everypony! I got like 20 asks for the Dogwarts cutie mark lore so I'm here to speak my truth!

Before we start, I would like to write a quick reminder that a pony's cutie mark is not always their "special talent", but can also represent who they are, their personalities, and a possible destiny. Different cutie marks have different meanings and interpretations, but they're not just about representing what you're good at.

That being said, let's start with the cutie mark design I'm proudest of!

Ren's Cutie Mark

Ren's cutie mark is of a sunrise and looks pretty simple at first glance but there was a lot of thought that went into this one.

First of all, I bet you're wondering why a sunrise? Well, in the show, it is pretty typical for unicorns with great magical abilities to have one relating to space (examples being Twilight Sparkle, Sunset Shimmer, Starlight Glimmer, and Sunburst). And I figured since I wanted Ren to fall into a similar position of potentially becoming an alicorn, I gave him a cutie mark following the same trend. And I chose a sunrise to reflect the way Ren seems to glow when he enters a room. The way he carries himself is very warm and bright it just catches your eye in a similar way the sun would.

Also, Ren wears sunglasses. So a sun-themed cutie mark seemed appropriate.

Additionally, there are a couple of smaller details I want to point out too. Like the sun rays, if you look at them for a moment you'll see they're shaped like little crowns! I of course had to put a crown in thanks to how much Ren likes to play royalty, so I snuck it in there. And then the red spots underneath could both be interpreted as the sun reflected over water or blood. (But of course, this is a kid show AU so there wouldn't be any blood in Ren's destiny, just a fun reference to the red king and his whole thing about blood dyeing the snow red)

Martyn's Cutie Mark

I explained this one in an earlier ask but I thought I'd explain it again here for anyone who didn't see it!

Martyn's cutie mark is of a chopped log and a small stick.

This one is mostly a play on the name "Littlewood" but has other meanings too. As a character, Martyn tends to travel and explore quite a bit. In the Life Series specifically, he is usually the last one to find a permanent base and even then doesn't spend a lot of time in one place. Always on the move. Additionally, he's more of a wild card compared to other characters, always trying to be as unpredictable as possible.

The smaller detail here is the little swirl on top of the log is the same as the one on his Minecraft skin's shirt.

BigB's Cutie Mark

Cookies! Cookies! Cookies! BigB's cutie mark is of 3 cookies where one is trying to eat the others. There are also a few sprinkles there made to look like action lines.

We all know BigB loves cookies so of course I had to give him a cutie mark with cookies in it. For this one, I decided to follow the cutie mark trend of "symbol/item important to the pony duplicated 3 times" (examples being Fluttershy, Applejack, Rarity, Pinkie Pie) but I added a bit more creativity to it with the top on trying to eat the others to represent just how tasty they are 😋

Additionally, rather than the first cookie trying to eat the others, you could interpret it as opening its mouth to talk. Because BigB can not keep a secret to save his life! In Double Life when he started "secret soulmates" with Grian, he didn't last a day without opening his mouth. He told Ren about it immediately because he felt bad for keeping things from him.

Also worth quickly mentioning: People pointed out in my original post that they don't think BigB would be the element of honesty because of his behaviour in Secret Life. But that's just Secret Life. I think Secret Life to BigB was like that episode of My Little Pony where Discord makes the main 6 act the opposite of their true element. BigB was just going through a weird phase of telling very obvious lies because a book told him to.

Skizz's Cutie Mark

Skizz's cutie mark is of a lightning bolt from a couple storm clouds hitting the ground.

I think this is the cutie mark with the least thought put into it, unfortunately. There was still though just not as much as the others. The big thing I thought was fun was I made the lightning bolt shaped like an "S" to stand for Skizzleman. But other than that, this cutie mark sort of has the same meaning as Rainbow Dash's cutie mark. Quick like lightning, loud, bold, dangerous, and powerful.

Impulse's Cutie Mark

Impulse's cutie mark is of a lit-up lightbulb.

I absolutely crowded this cutie mark with the letter i. If you look closely, there are 6 of them. Impulse's design also has an i-shaped pattern on the belly if you look closely enough. But that's more of a fun easter egg and doesn't exactly reflect Impulse as a character.

There are a couple of reasons I chose a lightbulb for Impulse, the first and probably most obvious is that he's a redstone guy! He's a technical guy who likes to work smarter, not harder. So I figured the My Little Pony equivalent would be a light bulb/electricity. The second reason for the lightbulb is that it's usually used as a visual representation when characters have that "eureka!" moment in cartoons. When someone has a brilliant idea a little lightbulb turns on above their head. So since Impulse is the ideas guy, I figured a lightbulb would work for his cutie mark.

Etho's Cutie Mark

Etho's cutie mark is of a snowflake with a missing branch.

I promise there is more to this cutie mark than just "Canada is cold" even if that's part of the reason I wanted to give him a winter-themed cutie mark. While it is fun to make a nod to Etho being Canadian, I thought a winter-themed cutie mark would be fun to represent how he sometimes presents himself. Cold and a bit mysterious. I think deep down once you get to know him, those attributes melt away, but for people who have never met him, he may be intimidating that way.

I'll be honest, I don't watch a lot of Etho content, but I do have a few friends who identify as Etho girlies so I did my research. I was told in his Minecraft Let's Play World, that he has a snowflake build somewhere. I believe they said it was an iron golem farm? (Please correct me if I'm wrong) but I thought that was perfect for the cutie mark. And if you're wondering why there's a branch missing, it's because one of my friends said he was incapable of finishing builds sometimes so I thought that would be fun to include.

-=+=-

Alright. Rant over. To celebrate, here are a few pony doodles so I can put this post in my art tag.

#cherri.speaks #cherri.draws #trafficblr #my little pony au #renthedog #inthelittlewood #bigbst4tz2 #skizzleman #impulsesv #ethoslab #Third Life x MLP #mclp

[venus-maneater]

a loyal dog’s reward ii. | yan! criston cole

yandere / obsessed ! au

fem! targaryen princess! reader

part i

synopsis. suffering an injury from a tournament, criston has to deal with seeing you alongside his temporary replacement. fortunately, you weren’t interested in teasing too much this time, trying to distract yourself from your sister beginning her labors, and you were happy to cheer your poor mutt up.

note; I’ve decided to make this a series with no real plot lol 😭 if being attracted to criston cole is a crime then lock me up !! this chapter took a mind of its own bc this was not the original plot and it’s twice as long as part i

WARNING(s): obsessive / possessive behavior, manipulation, violence, thoughts of violence, implied murder, blood, injury, JEALOUSY, nosebleeds, talk of bastards and having bastard children, Rhaenyra gives birth, allusions to sex but no actual smut, cole def has a breeding kink y’all

Ser Criston Cole, your ever-so-loyal shield, always said yes when you asked him to enter tourneys. He knew how much you enjoyed them, and relished in your attention as he succeeded in competition. There were only two real downsides to tournaments for him: the hours he had to spend apart from you, and the injuries. Criston had always excelled at anything physical, but he was only mortal. He was just a man who could be maimed or murdered just like any other. It served to remind him of the status gap between you: he was a man while you were born from dragons.

He kept his eyes on your form in the nobles’ box until it was his turn. This was typical behavior from him, he was nothing but devoted to you. Since you’d discovered his true feelings, you gave him more attention than before. You entertained his tendencies, teasing him sometimes but always reassuring him at the end of the day. You wanted no one but him.

“Oh, don’t fret, my Criston.” You’d tut, “I could never replace you. You’re the only guard dog for me.”

You played with his feelings occasionally, trying to get a rise out of him, but he quickly found that he didn’t mind. His reward at the end made all his anger worth it. He never blamed you either, it was never your fault that men didn’t know how to leave you alone.

He wondered now if this was one of your attempts at making him jealous.

The large man who stood obediently behind you was the one taking over Criston’s position as he competed in the tournament. Usually, another Kingsguard member would take over, but this particular Knight had something to prove. He was highborn, from some house in the Vale, with wide shoulders and a somewhat handsome face. The two men looked nothing alike; the Knight next to you was pale, hazel-eyed, and thin-haired.

He doubted it.

You didn’t like men other than Criston Cole guarding you, you’d expressed so before. They’re boring and untrustworthy, you insisted. Your words made his chest puff out with pride. He liked that he was the only one you truly trusted with your life; you knew he would protect you. You chose him to protect you.

To be honest, you didn’t even seem interested in the Knight from the Vale; you looked stiff and bored, which concerned your sworn shield. You loved tournaments, you loved when he won things in your honor. Why don’t you look excited?

Soon enough, it was his turn again. With your flowery red favor around his wrist, he got into position.

You perked up a bit when you saw that it was Criston’s turn once more. You’d been rather stiff most of the event, and you partially blamed it on your boring temporary guard. The man was flat; no personality to work with at all. It bummed you out honestly, he was from the Vale but behaved like a Northman. He was presumably around Ser Criston’s age, but had not even half of his spirit. It wouldn’t have bothered you so much if you couldn’t feel his stare burning into the back of your head. You could give him some credit; at least he’s taking his job of supervising you seriously.

But no, the primary reason for your irritation and lack of focus was your father. He had demanded you to attend this tourney to celebrate Rhaenyra’s labors, not allowing you to be by her side. You and your sister were close, very close, and quite similar as well. To not be by her side when she was in pain had you tense. You didn’t want to be here, not even to see Criston compete.

Criston Cole was facing a member of House Bolton, a rather fierce young man who didn’t scare easy. Most Northerners were like that, but Criston should know best as he just beat another one last round. The tournament today was celebrating Princess Rhaenyra beginning her labors, so competitors have traveled from far and wide. The event had been planned for a month, so it was good news that the Princess was finally giving birth.

“Jessil,” you called to your guard with a smirk, “You should watch closely this round, my shield is competing.”

The man nodded curtly without a word, causing you to roll your eyes. His under-reactions irked you, but you were starting to blame Criston Cole for that fact. He always reacted wonderfully to anything you did, perhaps you were too used to it.

Speaking of your shield, you could see his anger growing the longer you were with another man. It was the only thing keeping you here at this point; waiting to see if he’ll get violent. Criston was the most amusing man you’d ever met, you just knew something was going to happen. There were only two more rounds until the event ended, and he’d been stiff ever since Ser Jessil bent down closer in order to hear your comments about two hours ago.

The two knights settled into their positions across the courtyard from each other, on opposite sides of the tilt. Then, a horn sounded, triggering their horses into a sprint. With their lances aimed, the men collided, wooden splinters flying but neither of them falling. New lances were readily tossed to them and the process repeated. Criston spared you a glance, noticing that Jessil had gotten a few inches closer.

Again, they charged forward. Only this time, when they clashed, Criston was thrown from his horse at the force of the hit. The Bolton fared a bit better, remaining on his horse, but he was hit in the face by Criston’s lance, causing the front of his helmet to cave in just enough to cut him.

What you saw made you shoot to your feet, your hands gripping the railing in concern. Never in your years of knowing Criston Cole had you ever seen him knocked from his horse in a tournament. He was easily one of the best fighters you knew of, it seemed impossible that this could happen. Had you pushed too far with your teasing? You’d never tried anything during a tournament before, perhaps Ser Jessil’s presence threw him off.

The round didn’t end there. Criston was quick to stand despite his obvious injuries, and his morningstar was swiftly given to him. His helmet had flew from his head when he fell, so his bleeding mouth was for all to see. He was holding his right arm close to his body, making it appear broken or incapable of proper use. Although he was right-handed, he gripped his weapon in his left hand and prepared for a fight. The Bolton Knight was also without a helmet at this point, ditching the damaged armor when he jumped to the ground to grab his sword. His nose was bleeding and looked to be broken from the hit.

“Is his arm broken?” You asked aloud, leaning over the railing a bit in an attempt to see better, “he favors his right.”

Jessil ignored your words, but inched closer so you wouldn’t go over the railing, “Princess, you could fall.”

Criston let the other Knight come to him, not willing to waste any energy. He used his time to look your way, not liking the way your guard was holding your shoulder.

The fight began, but didn’t last long. The Bolton may have made a skilled jouster, but not a fighter. He was no match for the angry Kingsguard, even when he had every advantage. Handicapped from his injuries, Criston swung his Morningstar with his left hand, swiftly hitting his opponent in the head while avoiding any oncoming attacks from the sword. The impact knocked the younger Knight out, but visibly broke his brow bone. Due to the force from the spikes, his face was bleeding badly and the area around his eye was caved in, perfectly mirroring the damage to his helmet.

Half the crowd was silent in shock (including yourself), but the other half was cheering loudly at the violence. You were desensitized to such things at this point in your life, but that didn’t mean you welcomed them. You didn’t like that Criston came so close to losing, or that you have to watch some poor Bolton boy bleed out on the ground for no reason, your shield was too injured to continue to the next round anyways. And due to your being a princess, it would be inappropriate to leave early to check on the Kingsguard member. Because your father wouldn’t allow to be with your sister, you’d made Criston your fixation of the day.

The two of you made eye contact as a few servants rushed over to him, helping him limp off to see a maester. It was soon announced that although neither competitor was continuing to the next round, Criston Cole was technically the winner.

“Well that was certainly a show” You cleared your throat, shaking Ser Jessil’s hand off your shoulder and finally taking your seat once again, “I knew something was going to happen.”

“So you did, Princess.” The Knight nodded curtly, recalling your words earlier, telling him to watch closely.

With Criston gone, your mind shifted back to a pregnant Rhaenyra, who was currently giving birth without your comfort. You stiffen up, nails digging into the railing before exhaling deeply and taking your seat. The two of you return to your proper positions and continued to observe the event for the next few hours, clapping dutifully when an insignificant Lannister won.

x

You made it back to the Red Keep in record time, it seemed. Even Jessil had trouble keeping up with you on your horse as you rushed home. You’d refused the carriage ride, eager to see your sister.

You were sprinting up the nearly infinite steps to her chambers, Jessil following close and maids jumping out of the way. A couple of people tried to stop your entrance, but you only shoved them aside and pushed your way towards your sister.

“Rhaenyra!” You gasped softly, a grin finding its way to your face when you saw her cradling her new baby in bed. After the death of your mother, childbirth was a sensitive subject for you and your sister, you hated being apart during this time. She dismissed the women in the room, leaving just the two of you and her first child.

“I’ve decided on Jacaerys.” She smiled at you as you crawled into the bed beside her.

She’d discussed baby name ideas with you before, with Laenor as well, who suggested Joffrey. Rhaenyra was adamantly against it, and you remembered the distaste you felt hearing it, knowing the implications that would come along if they decided on that name. You’d always liked Joffrey actually, unhappy with his death, but almost all of court heard the rumors of he and Laenor. You’d suggested Jacaerys, a Velaryon sounding name. Rhaenyra didn’t seem overly interested, so you didn’t expect her to choose it.

“Oh, Jacaerys.” You cooed, stroking his little head, full of dark locks. That wasn’t good, not really. Hopefully he took after Rhaenyra in his other features, or else questions of his parentage could arise. Rhaenys was half Baratheon, so that could be used as an excuse. But then the baby boy opened his eyes, revealing big brown orbs that mirrored Harwin Strong’s. You liked Harwin quite a bit, not minding. But the court would mind. You and Rhaenyra would just have to protect him.

“Have you slept yet?” You asked your sister, who hasn’t stopped grinning since you first saw her.

“Not yet, dear sister, I cannot stop looking at his sweet face.”

“Has… his father seen him yet?” You both knew who you meant.

“No. But he will soon enough, when I’m well enough to leave the room.” She gave you a knowing smile, which you returned.

Upon leaving Rhaenyra to rest, you were able to successfully escape Ser Jessil’s supervision with the help of Ser Harwin Strong, and went straight to Criston Cole’s chambers. You found out through your favorite handmaiden that he’d been released from the infirmary, and you took the first opportunity that presented itself to you. You didn’t knock before slipping into his room, but you were sure he wouldn’t mind.

Stepping in, your eyes were drawn to his place on the bed immediately. He was lying down above the blankets, with his arm wrapped and splinted in a sling resting above his bare midsection. His ribs were bruised, but it was apparently nothing bad enough that would need wrapping. Both legs were extended out, with his left pant leg pulled up to the knee to reveal his bruised ankle. He didn’t notice you enter, his eyes were shut and he was likely half-asleep. His face was fine, handsome as always, besides a cut on his nose-bridge that was beginning to darken into a bruise.

“Look at you, my poor sweet thing.” You cooed quietly at him suddenly, waking him from his relaxed state. His eyes shot open, head snapping over to the door.

“My princess.” He gasped. His chambers were much smaller and less impressive than yours, he didn’t want you in such an environment.

“Are you well?” You asked, closing the door as quietly as possible, “The maester says you’ve broken bones.”

“I’m well, I swear it to you. It’s a small break in the arm, everything should heal rather quickly.” He tried to reassure you as you approached, struggling his way into a sitting position, his back against the head board.

You hummed at his clumsy movements, stopping to stand at his bedside. Cute. Criston wasn’t an inherently violent man, at least not with you, so it was easy to forget how strong and dangerous he truly was. It was unnerving to see him injured; weak.

“How quickly would you say?” You asked.

“The maester says a month.” He answered quietly, not willing to admit the extent of his injuries. His primary goal was to get back to you.

You knew the Maester had actually said two months.

“Hm. Who will protect me for a whole month in your absence?” You held back a smirk.

You watched as Criston’s body language immediately changed. Clenching and unclenching his jaw, his leg twitched in frustration.

“I am still fully capable.”

Has he always been this attractive or does jealousy just look good on him?

“My father thinks you should take time to heal.”

He scoffed, shaking his head, “I don’t care what he thinks, you saw what I did to my opponent despite my injuries.”

“You ‘don’t care what he thinks’? He is King.” You said in a mock-scolding tone, lifting your knee to rest in against the bed, close to his lap.

“Yours is the only word to mean anything to me. I listen to no King.” Still seated, he leans forward to get closer.

“Though you listen to me? Only me?” You ask with a smile, batting your lashes at him and leaning in. He doesn’t move to kiss you first, he rarely does. He lets you do as you please, feeling the puffs of air from your giggle on his lips.

“Yes. Only you.” He whispers, his eyes begging you to just kiss him already. But nothing is ever that simple with you, and he knows it well.

You grin at him, leaning in until your lips are just grazing his own, before laughing and pulling away entirely. His face followed yours until you were out of reach, leaving him to huff and fall back against the head board once again. He let out a quiet groan, closing his eyes and tossing his head back so he could catch his breath.

“You’re so easy, Ser Criston.” You snickered. His lips quirked up at your joyous tone, but he resisted the urge to open his eyes. After a few moments of stumbling around the room in amusement, you bit your lip to keep quiet.

Criston went stiff when you fell silent, excited fingers beginning to twitch as the urge to touch you increased. But he was a seasoned warrior at this point in life, and could hear every movement you made. He heard you tiptoe back over to the bed before pausing. The mattress dipped as you climbed onto the bed and landed in his lap, straddling his thighs and avoiding his bruised ribs. It was only when you were on top of him that his eyelids fluttered open to watch you. You gave him a satisfied look. He was happy to let you believe you caught him off-guard.

“Criston?”

“Yes, my Heart?”

“There’s something I have to tell you…” You placed your hands gently on his chest and leaned in, your mouth next to his ear, “and you will not like it.”

“You think me incapable of handling such news?” He asked, a bit breathless.

You smiled, “Of course not. You’re my protector, my strong and most loyal servant. You can handle anything I give you, yes?”

He nodded, unable to speak properly with your lips on his ear.

“My father says that Ser Jessil will be your stand-in as my protector.”

Criston’s good hand immediately moved to your waist, gripping it tightly, “You don’t need anyone else to protect you. Only me.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” You kissed his jaw gently, “but you should heal and rest.”

“I will kill him. Do not doubt me.”

“He would just be replaced.”

“I don’t care, I should kill the next as well.”

“You go against my word?” You pulled back, sitting up fully. He hesitated in his response, so you continued, “Ser Jessil will be your temporary replacement, my King father has said this and I have agreed.”

It was a lie, technically; you didn’t exactly agree to anything. But you weren’t about to let Criston believe he had the power here. He’d started to get a bit too bold.

Your faces were close together now, the two of you holding heavy eye contact. Criston said nothing, though his body language revealed his true feelings easily. He didn’t like that you were taking your father’s side over his own.

“I love you.” He blurted out, brows furrowed in emotion.

Your hands moved up to hold his face, “I know that. I just want you well. You must rest and heal so you can be at your best. Don’t you understand?”

Criston nodded slowly, a satisfied shiver running through him at the thought of you caring so much. His health is truly that important to you?

“Good.” You say with a grin, pecking the corner of his lips and reaching up to pat his messy hair down. His long locks grew wild already, but the style worsened from hours of wearing a helmet.

Giving into you, per usual, the Knight sighed and wrapped his good arm fully around your waist, pulling you close so he could tuck his face into your neck. You cooed at him, returning his embrace and giggling in between your praises.

“I know that this upsets you quite a bit,” You began, gasping in surprise when you felt a warm tongue trail over your throat, “but I don’t mind making you feel better.”

“Feel better you say?” He questioned absentmindedly, more focused on the taste of your skin.

You hummed in confirmation, “I can take care of you in places you may need help with. You know….. here?”

Eyes closed, you placed a delicate touch to the bulge in his pants, smiling when you felt him stiffen beneath you.

Criston Cole was always half-hard around you, your presence alone able to rile him up. He often found himself having to control his thoughts when around other people, not wanting them to notice his… state. As much as he wanted to touch you all over— taste you and love you and worship you— he held a higher respect for you than himself. You were not just a Lady, you were a Princess. He would not dishonor you in such a way, at least not until the two of you were married.

“Princess—” he grunted, mouth dropping open in pleasure briefly before pursing his lips. He pulled his upper body away from you slightly, giving you a bit more space to do what you wanted.

“Oh, it’s fine, Ser Criston. I want to.” You reassured, shrugging because you knew he would end up letting you anyways, “You just look so good bruised up like this, all jealous over some loser, nobody Knight.”

You whispered the last sentence harshly, and Criston loved it. He loved when you degraded other men in comparison to him. He was who you wanted, not that loser, nobody Knight. It didn’t matter that he was low-born or sick in the head, you wanted him anyway.

“You prefer me?” He asked looking up at you, “to him? Tell me...”

“I prefer you to him, Ser Criston Cole. I prefer you to all other men.”

Pulling him by his hair, your lips captured his. Whimpering into your mouth, he now does nothing to stop you from reaching your goal. You smile into the kiss at his surrender.

“… but perhaps you’re right.” You pull away from his lips, but stay close enough to tease, “it would be so dishonorable and you’re injured as well. Hm.”

Criston, his mind in shambles, doesn’t say a word, just sucks his teeth and releases a shaky breath. He doesn’t like to argue with you, he won’t. He’s overwhelmed, you’re so close.

“Can’t think.” He muttered so quietly you almost missed it.

A breathy laugh escaped you before you could stop it, “No? And why is that, Ser? Do I possess you so?”

“Possess? Princess, you are torturing me with your affections. I cannot think of anything else, I cannot focus, I cannot stop shaking.” His voice cracked at the last word and he wasn’t lying, his body trembled.

“Do I dominate your dreams as well?”

“Yes.”

You hum, curious. You knew of his fantasies; his plans to run away, marry, and have many children with you. But you never question the details, allowing them to stay fuzzy so he wouldn’t get too ahead with his scheming. Dreams, however, you could create your own world. “Won’t you share them with me?”

“We ah-” he pauses to take a deep breath, likely attempting to control himself, “You call me by name a lot.”

You tilt your head, a bit confused.

“Not Ser, not dog, not thing— just Criston. The sound of my name from your lips is like music to me. It makes me— I never want you to say another’s name ever again. And uh- a daughter. We have a daughter. She looks like you- so much.”

You begin to shift at his words. A daughter? No Westerosi man wishes for a daughter, at least not before a son, “Daughter you say? Why?”

“She will be you, reborn, carrying my blood. I dream of a baby girl that smiles like you. I will call her my little princess as you are my Princess. A child that is ours.”

“A daughter.” You repeated once more. It was… nice to hear a man express desire for a daughter rather than a son. You and Rhaenyra had suffered due to that mindset, spending most of your lives watching your father desperately try for a son, even at the cost of your mother’s life. He no longer felt that way, but it was too late, the damage had been done. He now had Aegon and Aemond, who he didn’t even pay much attention to. Your mother’s life felt wasted.

“Princess—?”

“A sweet thing it is.” You cut him off, “your dreams are endearing. But I must go now, Jessil has no doubt noticed my absence.”

Criston tensed, “Ab—sence” He croaked, jealousy building.

“Mmhm.” I nodded, “I’ve avoided him thus far, impressively. He may report this to my father if I’m gone any longer.”

Just a few minutes more, his mind screams. But he’s good for you, so he only nods. His jaw is clenched and there’s a noticeable twitch in his expression. His fingertips dig into your sides.

“I don’t want to part with you for so long.”

“Perhaps I’ll visit if you behave.”

x

“He’s clearly a bastard.” Criston spoke quietly, but plainly.

You’d snuck him into your chambers after a long day of cooing over Rhaenyra’s baby boy, Jacaerys. It’d been a couple weeks since his birth and she finally brought him to court for all to see.

“It is treason to suggest such a thing, Ser Cole.” You bitterly defended your sister as you brushed your fair, before rolling your eyes, “And even if it were true, what does it matter who the boy’s father is? He is Rhaenyra’s true son and her heir. The boy is a Targaryen.”

At the risk of upsetting you further, he held his tongue. Being rather low born, Criston grew up having to prove himself through his ability rather than his status. But when he was young, at the end of the day, he was still a rank above bastard children. He had that, at least. He knew that it wasn’t exactly fair, you can’t control who your parents are, but it was a mindset he was raised with and couldn’t shake so easily.

“What if my father marries me off to some Lord I do not love? Are you saying you wouldn’t fuck little bastard babies into me? Babes that look just like you?” You ask him, standing up from your vanity to approach his spot on your bed, feigning innocence.

Face twitching in annoyance, Criston grabbed your wrist and roughly pulled you to his level. With your faces were inches apart, he reached up and gripped your chin. The action made you bite your lip to hide a grin.

“I will be fucking little trueborn babies into you. I’ll make you my wife before giving you children.” He took slight offense to your words. How could you suggest that? You should know he would not let you be married off.

“Oh, of course, My White Knight. You plan to steal me away.”

“Hardly stealing.” He muttered, lovesick eyes staring into yours.

You don’t voice your disagreements, you only laugh. You did not belong to Criston Cole, you belong only to yourself. His words make you think that this game had gone a little too far; he’s getting too confident in his possessiveness. His hesitancy was one of his initial charms for you, and it’s leaving him. Perhaps it’s best to stop entertaining his ideas of a future with you, no matter how cute and pleasant you believe them to be.

“So you’re saying you wouldn’t like it, even just a little?” You tilted your head, his hand still holding your chin softly.

“No.” That’s a lie, maybe just a small amount. Everyone knowing you belong to him, having his kids, despite your status. But the negatives massively outweigh the positives. Not only would it put so much dishonor on you, but Criston isn’t good at controlling his jealousy. He wouldn’t be able to handle you being married to another or his children not having his name.

You smiled knowingly, teasing, “I don’t believe you.”

He released his grasp on your chin, letting you fall closer into him, “I could never be fond of an idea where you are not mine.”

“Well I would be, only secretly.” You pointed out.

“I want you to be mine openly, in every way. By name.”

You knew that wasn’t possible, not even across the sea. But you didn’t want to burst the bubble he’d been constructing for the last year. You let it go. A short silence takes over, not an uncomfortable one, but not the kind you particularly liked. The two of you had extremely different thinking processes, and it was something only amplified when you discussed your ideas for the future. Luckily, your partner was delusional enough that he didn’t notice your discontent with running away.

“Criston?” You ask, letting yourself fall to lie flat beside him. He lets go of your wrist and his eyes follow your moments, as usual. He lies back on the bed as well.

“Yes, my Princess?”

“Why do you desire me the way you do?”

He looked slightly surprised at the question, like he’d never expected you would ask. The truth is, he hadn’t. It wasn’t like you to care why. You were quick to accept things for what they were.

“You’re special to me.” He eventually whispered, “I was made to love you.”

“Made?”

“The gods constructed me only for the purpose of worshipping you. You have bewitched me with no effort. I do not know whether to kiss the ground you walk on or fall to my knees and beg for your continued attention.”

You stare into his big, dark eyes silently. He’s loyal, like a dog. And he’s hopeless like one too. “You’re not exactly a poet, but I suppose that will do.”

He grins, and you can practically feel his heart racing, “Not a poet, no.”

You tear your eyes away from him to glare at the ceiling. “Do not call my nephew a bastard again.”

He tensed at your words, entirely disliking that he’d upset you, and nodded immediately. He was embarrassed, “Yes, my love, I’m sorry.”

You sighed and looked back at him, sitting up once more. “I think you’ll find him charming. Rhaenyra says he reminds her of me already.”

“Well I’m sure to be charmed in that case, aren’t I?”

“Oh, yes, since you’re more than quite charmed by me.”

“Charmed,” He smiled, pupils expanding as he began to fantasize, “I hope to be charmed by our own children one day.”

“Our own?” You entertained, “How many? Including this daughter of ours of course.”

“Five perhaps. More if you’d like.” He took a piece of your hair between his fingers to play with.

“Is that what our lives would look like if you had it your way?”

“If I had it my way,” His eyes shifted back to your own, darkening, “by now you’d be chasing around our first two children as your stomach swelled with our third. You’d be called Lady Cole.”

“Ah, yes. Lady Cole with her many Cole babes.”

Criston had to take a deep breath at that, practically vibrating at the mere thought of you carrying his children and living as his wife.

You giggle at his visible reaction, leaning down to claim his lips. He sighed into the kiss, hesitant hands reaching for your hair. He tugs, trying to urge you closer, onto his lap, “My princess, please.”

“He begs, ‘Please please please’. You are the wantingest man I’ve ever met.” You grin into the kiss, allowing him to take you into his lap.

“I will never have shame in begging you. My life belongs to you, I am yours.” His words are beginning to slur slightly, “It’s only natural for me to be greedy when you are the one who claims my heart.”

“Always trying to impress me with your words,” You playfully roll your eyes, “you’re nearly healed, you know. Ready to return to my side?” It was a lie, he had good a bit left of healing to do.

“I never should have left.” He squirmed, trying not to show his anger. He never left, not willingly. He was removed.

“Of course, of course.” You tugged on the dark hair at the back of his neck, “The man who’s been with me is utterly serious. Neither I nor Rhaenyra like him.”

Criston listened to your complain about your temporary shield with a sense of pride and giddiness. He was relieved you disliked his replacement. But the mention of your sister disliking him as well did nothing for him, as the princess Rhaenyra didn’t like most men surrounding you, Criston himself included. She never vocalized it much, but he noticed when she tensed and sneered when he got too close to you. He wondered if she knew about your relationship.

“I’m more your taste, Princess?”

A grin found its way to your face and you nodded, “That’s right, I can do whatever I please to you and you only bask in my attention.”

He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, argue with that. While he had his own boundaries of sorts, they were completely disregarded in your presence and he didn’t even mind it.

To prove your point, you began to kiss his jaw, sweet and gentle kisses. Criston hummed, closing his eyes and tilting his head back only slightly. You nipped at the delicate skin, comfortable with leaving just a few marks because he was still out of action; not many people would be seeing him anyways.

“G-gods-” he choked out.

“The gods cannot save you, I’m afraid.” You giggle.

“I beg them not to.”

You giggle at his dazed voice and expression, blowing cool air on his neck and enjoying his shiver. His hands keep twitching. Just to tease, you kept your face tucked into him, kitten licking at the skin until you felt something wet hit your cheek. Pulling away slightly, you quickly identified the source of the warm liquid; blood was dripping from Criston’s nose, falling over his lips down to his chin.

“S-sorry, your grace. I’m overwhelmed is all.” He muttered, hand immediately going up to face to stop the dripping. But you only pull his hand away with a smirk.

“You know,” you begin, thumbing some of the blood and smearing it over his lips, “in the way of Old Valyria, we share blood when we marry.”

“Please, please,” he croaks, big dark eyes boring desperately into your own. They’re shiny and lack any coherent thoughts, “Don’t say such things to me now— can’t control myself.”

“We use dragon glass to cut one another’s lip,” you take your bloodied thumb and swipe red onto your bottom lip, “then we kiss to show we are of the same blood now.”

His leg begins to bounce and he has to look away from your face. His nose continues to drip blood, but neither of you move to stop it this time.

“You like that idea~ i can tell because you’re shaking.” You giggle into his ear.

“M’not shaking-” he replies, but even his voice trembles.

“Well you’re bleeding, is that not a sign?” You tilt your head, “perhaps you’re unwell, should I stop?”

Before he can beg you not to stop, his sharp ears catch the sound of clicking armor in the hall. He tenses, almost forgetting he was in the Princess’ chambers; he doesn’t know how when yours was easily three-times the size of his own. There was no need to panic and hide, people were not permitted to just walk in.

Three hard knocks sounded throughout the room, causing Criston to freeze. Your expression didn’t change, as you’d heard the footsteps.

“Who is it? Do not enter please.” You answered, your eyes not leaving your knight’s. As nervous as he was, Criston maintained eye contact and didn’t move a muscle. With a small grin, your hand traveled back up to his chin, which was now smeared with blood. As your fingers traced his features, you leaned in close to his ear to place a few gentle kisses there.

“Princess, it’s Ser Jessil. Your sister, the Princess Rhaenyra, has sent for you. She is… perhaps you should open the door to let me explain. It concerns your safety.”

Your reactions vary; Criston’s posture is still stiff and he’s growing annoyed at the knight’s presence. It’s almost offensive how this pathetic creature is trying to protect you when that’s his job. But you’re worried, though you won’t show it. Rhaenyra? Is something wrong? But something about it didn’t make sense; if your safety was threatened, then why did Rhaenyra know first and why did Jessil bother knocking at all?

“I’d prefer you explain from where you are.”

You could hear his sigh through the door, an impressive feat, “She is suspicious that a knight of the king is sneaking into your chambers.”

Probably because it was true, you thought, glancing at a stiff and unhappy Criston.

“Let me ready myself and I will speak with her at once.” As you began to shift off of your shield, but he only pouted and desperately hung on. He had the mind to keep quiet, but his heart wouldn’t allow you to leave him.

“… Yes, Princess.”

You turned to him sternly, “Let go, Criston. Don’t be foolish, just hide for now and be gone when we leave.” You quietly scolded and his grip loosened.

He clenches his jaw, the most common hint to his annoyance, and said nothing. He allowed you to pull him up by the hand and drag him over to your wardrobe, shutting him in with a last apologetic kiss.

“Be good.” You uttered, and his gaze softened for a moment before the door shut in his face.

He could hear you shuffle around, dressing quickly to see your sister. He sucked his teeth angry. Did he deserve mistreatment? To an extent, yes, he could admit that. But this wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t you just— stay? Tell him to kill that bothersome knight and be done with him entirely. His fists clenched. He’d kill him— and soon. Right now even. Then he’d take you away and give you a nice little home with sweet little silver-haired babies. Criston was growing sick of waiting, it was eating him up inside. You affected him so severely, it was showing itself physically. He brought a hand up to the crimson liquid that had finally stopped leaking from his nose.

You were gone now— he knew this because he could feel when you were near. But someone was in your chambers, someone closer to his size. He could hear the metal clanking of heavy armor. The person was looking for something, an intruder most likely. But Criston was not the intruder here. The idea of someone who wasn’t him being in your space made him burn with anger. That was fine, he decided, he’d handle it. With balled up fists, he stepped out from the wardrobe.

x

“Has Ser Jessil been good to you, little sister?”

You shrugged at Rhaenyra, your chin resting in your hand as you leaned on the table. It wasn’t polite, but you were comfortable in her presence, “He’s fine, I suppose.”

“But you prefer that dog of yours.” Your sister teased. You could tell she didn’t like that— didn’t like Criston. You understood.

“He’s good, listens well.”

“Not for long— I can see it well. He’s a sick thing, sister.”

“I can handle him, he does as I ask.”

“He’s greedy, an oath breaker.”

You hummed in agreement, “He has pretty eyes.”

Rhaenyra scoffed with a grin at your reply, “He will try to steal you away. Not just that, but he’s also obvious. Painfully so. If I know, someone else does too. He needs to be put out. Be rid of him.”

“I… understand that he’s got troublesome feelings. But he’s become something of a pet to me now.” You pouted and your sister sighed, not fond of upsetting you.

“When I ascend the throne, he will be gone. I worry he’ll be your downfall.” She wasn’t being dramatic, she’d disliked the man for years and saw every bit of concerning behavior he displayed. She saw clearly his desperation to leave with you. When it comes time for you to marry, he’ll go mad.

You knew whatever you had with Criston wasn’t permanent, but to hear your elder sister give away her intentions of getting rid of him really struck you. “He’s brainless, Rhaenyra. Just a dog, truly. He can hardly read. He’s only a threat physically, and he would never hurt me.”

Rhaenyra sighed, wrinkling her nose in distaste for the man. She used to be like you, still was sometimes, but she would protect you from her mistakes. She would not allow any whispers at court of you being a whore and your children being bastards, not like her. Since the birth of Jacaerys, she’d grown just a bit more serious, and much more protective.

“You needn’t be literate to kill a man.” She replied after a brief silence.

You held back a huff. The truth was that Criston could read fine these days, though not nearly at the level you could. You’d only said that to give the illusion of harmlessness. Unfortunately, Rhaenyra would never buy it; she had seen the knights he’d bloodied during tournaments.

“I’ll be harder on him then, perhaps add a bit of distance. But, sister, he is important. As a member of the Kingsguard, his support and loyalty will aid your claim. One more soldier on our side— a good one.”

“I will not sacrifice you for my cause.”

“I’ve told you, he will not harm me—”

“It’s more complex than that—!”

It felt like you were 13 and 14 again, bickering over something that was caused by your sisters protectiveness.

No, you will not be coming with me. You will sleep in your bed and I will wake you myself come morning!

If that stable boy looks at you that way again, I will have father or Uncle Daemon take his eyes— probably Daemon.

No, sister. You are mad if you think I’m letting you anywhere near a wild dragon—!

You sometimes think that Criston and Rhaenyra hate one another because they are a bit similar.

“Nyra,” you groaned, head in hands, “I will fix it, you’re right, he has become a bit… extreme lately. But you must admit he’d be beneficial to our cause.”

Although Rhaenyra was legally the heir to the throne, there were already whispers of putting Alicent’s son, Aegon, on the throne in her place. Criston wasn’t very powerful politically, but he was a brilliant fighter and his words as a Kingsguard held just a bit of sway.

She furrowed her brows, “You’re too fond of him.”

You shrugged, standing up, “Perhaps. But I’m no fool; you come first. I will never flee with him.”

“And when he realizes that?”

You didn’t have an answer. You passed Harwin Strong on your way out, and bit your tongue to stop myself from calling out the hypocrisy.

What was the difference between her and Harwin vs you and Criston?

x

Well for starters, Harwin didn’t murder any man who entered Rhaenyra’s vicinity. Criston on the other hand…

By the time you returned to your chambers, the entire stone floor was red, the liquid seeping into your intricate carpet you’d had since you were a child. There was no body, suggesting that Criston had already gotten rid of it or the victim managed to escape. (But that was unlikely, Criston was a beast in a fight, and his temper was unmatched.)

“Princess.” Criston croaked from behind you, in the open doorway. He’d just arrived, and it took only one glance at him to know what he’d done. Blood covered his hands, arms, and chest. It was splattered from his face all the way down to his knees. He was in his civilian clothes still, rather than any armor due to being put on leave. His eyes were shiny, some sense of desperation in them, and he was fiddling with his red hands. Nervous. Why were you back so early? The sling for his arm was gone, though he surely still needed it.

“Is—” You cleared your throat. “Is he alive?”

But judging by the brain matter on the ground, you knew the answer was—

“No.” Direct and honest. He took a few steps forward, shutting the door behind him. You weren’t scared of him necessarily— you knew well enough at this point that he’d never hurt you. But he didn’t look quite human at the moment, so you took a step back.

Your simple shuffle backwards was enough to send him into a panic.

He dropped to his knees, blood soaking into his breeches as he inched closer, “My love— he was threat! He would’ve found me in here—” He babbled on about protecting you, begging for you not to be afraid. You let him talk, focused on the blood.

“Clean this up.” You finally muttered, patting him quickly on the head to avoid soaking yourself with the crimson liquid.

As much as a part of you wanted to coo at him ‘good dog’, you couldn’t. This was messy— emotional and obvious. Risky. He was a bad dog, a stupid one even. He wasn’t like Harwin— manageable. He was something else entirely. You liked him how he was, violently loyal and protective, but you couldn’t have it.

He quickly agreed to clean it and began to calm down, which led him to notice your own unease. He flinched when he saw how much blood seeped into your shoes and skirt, pulling you into his arms and placing you on your favorite stool.

He was cooing at you, “Sweet Princess, don’t worry about this, yes? I’ll rid you completely of this man, I swear it. I allowed his blood to soil your clothes, I’m sorry.”

Criston kissed at your collar bones down your arms to your palms.

“Criston,” his eyes shot up to meet yours. Big brown heart eyes. “No more of this, not in this castle.”

His hands tightened slightly around your wrists, “But you like it.” He muttered.

“It isn’t about that—!” You held your tongue, deciding to take a smarter approach, “My sweet Criston, the people in the Keep will soon notice a pattern, I cannot let that happen. My sister needs nothing in her way of that crown.”

He nearly scoffed, “Is it always about your sister and her crown? I have protected you again! From-from these perverts who wish to—”

“You’re the pervert-!”

“You love me! You love it! How you affect me— how you can physically see every thought that goes through my head about you! You love how perverted I am for only you! I see you— I love every part of you, even the part that gets off on a Kingsguard soiling his cloak for you!” Criston was shaking, “I am sick, and you cannot get enough! Just as I will never tire of you— I need you!”

There was silence, besides his heavy breathing. You didn’t expect such self-awareness, and you didn’t like it. You liked him better dumb, but it appeared he never was fully clueless. His brown eyes were wide and a shade darker than usual.

“Sit.” You commanded and he did, “Just clean this up.”

x

[taglist] @3abydolll @pearlstiare @caramelcandescence @eilishchaos @watercolorskyy

The Rhaenyra/Criston beef is gonna go crazy in the prequel

im hoping you guys noticed, but this chapter was meant to emphasize the lack of control the reader truly has on criston. like yeah, he worships you and is willing to do almost anything you say, but his urges control him more than anything else ever will. this is going to be a common theme in the future. i also wanted this chapter to show more daily life and readers relationship with rhaenyra compared to part i.

#dark! hotd #yandere hotd #hotd x reader #got x reader #yandere got #yandere criston cole #yandere asoiaf #criston cole #criston cole x reader #obsessive criston cole #dark criston cole #ser criston #targaryen reader

[roosterforme]

The Birthday Blues | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley loves celebrating your birthday. It's his favorite day of the year. But you're almost too upset to celebrate, and you don't seem to want to tell him why.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, smut, swears, mentions of trying to get pregnant

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"Roo?" you mumbled when you thought you felt your husband touching you. Was it morning? Or were you still asleep? You must be having a dream, because you felt good. No, you felt fucking great.

"Happy birthday, Baby Girl."

You cracked your eyes open, searching for the source of your pleasure, and then you saw that Bradley was nestled between your thighs, eating your pussy.

"Oh!" you gasped. That's why you felt like you were melting into a pool of pleasure. Because you actually were. You watched Bradley's head bob slightly as he licked long, languid stripes along your pussy. The early morning light was turning his messy bedhead hair a pretty copper color, and when you pushed your fingers through it, he kissed your thigh before returning to his task.

It was your birthday. You were thirty one. And you were pretty sure he wasn't going to stop until you came at least one time on his face. So you propped yourself up on one elbow to watch the show.

"Is this my birthday present?" you whispered as Bradley's mustache brushed against your clit.

"Just one of many," he rasped before kissing his way up and down your slit. When you were sufficiently moaning for him, he wrapped those pretty lips around your clit while you played with his hair.

Each little flick of his tongue had you gasping and asking for more. But he knew your body like the back of his hand, and he was drawing this out on purpose. Every time your voice got higher in pitch, he eased back the pressure until you calmed down. And then he started all over again.

"Roo!" you whined, practically riding his face as he held your hips down on the bed. "Let me cum! It's my birthday!"

The devilish look he gave you should have been enough warning, but a minute later, he was fucking you with two fingers and sucking your clit just right. When you felt the prickle of his mustache on your skin, your head tipped back against the pillow, and you felt yourself squeezing his thick fingers as you whined his name until you were laying in a limp, boneless pile. 

Then you felt his warm body weight on your sensitive skin as he kissed your lips. His mustache was wet, and he let you lick his face clean.

"I need to be on base in thirty minutes," he rasped, making no move to leave you or the bed. "Fuck, why didn't we take today off? It's the most important day of the year."

"Because we burned through all of our vacation time for our honeymoon," you reminded him. 

"It was worth it," he whispered next to your ear before he climbed out of bed. You watched Bradley step into his flight suit before he disappeared into the bathroom. You desperately wanted to coax him back to bed, but you also really wanted Bradley to leave for work.

He kissed your lips one more time and said, "Birthday dinner at seven. I'll let Tramp out before I leave. I love you, Baby Girl." 

And once he was gone, you dashed out of bed and into the bathroom. You dug around in the closet for the pregnancy tests you bought yesterday after work. 

"Come on," you whispered, pacing around the bathroom and bedroom after you peed on the sticks. This could potentially be the best birthday present of your life, even better than a birthday morning orgasm from Bradley. 

When your timer went off and you checked the tests, tears of frustration filled your eyes. You tossed the tests into the trash and got dressed for work. 

----------------------------

It was actually unfair. Finding yourself on the verge of crying at work on your birthday shouldn't have been happening. And now as you sat in your office, swiping tears away, you realized you were just angry at yourself for taking the pregnancy tests in the first place. 

But you had been trying for two months. And you'd spent the last decade trying your damnedest not to get pregnant. And if you knew there might have been something wrong, you'd have stopped taking birth control months ago. Because you and Bradley had been having very frequent sex for weeks now, and you felt like you were disappointing yourself and him, too.

You closed your computer and carried it down the hallway to your lab where your newest coworker Cat seemed to be having a great day. She was laughing with your other labmates just like you would normally be doing, but you weren't feeling like yourself. So you just kept your head down and got your work done. 

You knew you shouldn't have done it, but you texted Bradley and told him you were simply too busy to make it down to the cafeteria for lunch today.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: really? everyone wanted to see you. i wanted to see you...

And then you started crying again. Because the negative pregnancy test was getting to you so much, you were letting Bradley down even more.

--------------------------

"I think you should wear the dress you wore on our first date," Bradley crooned next to your ear as he wrapped his arms around you from behind. "You look so good in red."

You wiggled out of his grasp and finished unbuttoning your uniform shirt. As you removed your pins, you said, "Our first date was in the summer. It's too chilly out today."

Now he was looking at you like he was trying to figure out what he had done wrong. "I'll keep you warm. Or you can wear one of my sweatshirts over it if you want to. Or you can wear leggings and your oversized sweater. It's your birthday. And you're perfect. And you're going to look perfect."

But you really weren't perfect. You sighed and nodded at him. "I'll just throw on something casual. You said it doesn't matter what I wear."

You could tell he wanted you to wear that red dress. But you were feeling like punishing yourself for being in a bad mood on your own birthday. And you were bloated. Plus you'd gained a few pounds on the honeymoon and over the holidays. You'd look terrible in that dress right now. But Bradley just nodded his head once as you walked away from him. "Anything is fine, Baby Girl." 

"Great," you muttered, pulling on the leggings and sweater. The car ride was painfully quiet, and as soon as he got on the highway, you knew where he was taking you. You bit your lip to keep the tears at bay.

"Did I piss you off today?" he asked as he parallel parked the Bronco in front of the hot sauce restaurant he'd taken you to on your first date. 

"No," you whispered, closing your eyes against the tears you could once again feel. You were emotional because your period was starting, not because you were pregnant. And that thought was making more tears burn your eyes. 

"Sweetheart, if you're not feeling it, we can go home," he assured you. "I won't be upset. I should have let you pick what you wanted to do today."

"No, it's fine, Roo. I love it here. You did good," you said, trying to infuse your voice with the excitement you usually felt when he surprised you with silly little things. Normally you would have been climbing across the seat to wrap your arms around him, excited that he brought you back here, but instead you climbed out your own door onto the sidewalk. 

"Okay," he whispered a moment later, taking your hand in his larger one and kissing your fingers. "I'll let you order both meals and eat half of each one. I know you love doing that here." Bradley guided you inside as a smile found its way to your lips.

"I do love that," you told him. Soon you and he were sitting side by side in a booth, and he had his arm wrapped around your shoulders. You were pouring out little samples of various hot sauces onto your plate and tasting each one while Bradley sipped a beer. He helped you rank the bottles in order of deliciousness, and then you ate half of your meal and half of his. 

"Let me buy you bottles of your top three draft picks," he joked, taking out his credit card to pay the bill and asking the waiter to add on a few bottles of the hot sauces you liked best.

"Thanks, Roo," you whispered, kissing his cheek. This wasn't so bad. You'd get over this sadness like you had last month. It would just take a few days, and you could blame it on your period. 

Your husband took you by the hand, but instead of leading you back to the Bronco, he crossed the street with you. "Thought we could walk along the pier? For old time's sake?"

You looked up into his eager face in the dim glow of the streetlight. He just wanted to please you, just the same way you always wanted to please him. So you nodded and started out along the pier where you'd spent plenty of time getting to know him and making out with him so many months ago.

When you leaned against the railing and looked out at the dark water beyond, Bradley rested his chin on your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you. "Promised I'd keep you warm," he murmured next to your ear.

You smiled. "You should have put that in your wedding vows."

His soft sigh as he rubbed his hands along the front of your body made you feel a lot better. "I hope you enjoyed your birthday dinner. I wasn't joking, this really is the most important day of the year. My very favorite day of the year. Besides our anniversary."

"I love you even more than I love hot sauce." 

The promise fell from your lips as he chuckled and said, "I hope you don't lose your taste for spicy food when you're pregnant."

The chilly night air started to seep through the fabric of your sweater everywhere that he wasn't touching you. Your face fell into a frown. The dark water no longer looked peaceful. Tears filled your eyes quickly, as if they had been right there at the surface, just waiting for another excuse to drip down your cheeks.

You tried your best to keep it together, but Bradley knew right away that something was wrong. He spun you in his arms until you were facing him. "Please, Baby Girl. Please tell me what's going on. If I made you upset, you need to tell-"

But you just shook your head and pushed him gently away from you, and Bradley looked like you had slapped him across the face. "I'm not pregnant, okay? I'm not. I took a pregnancy test this morning, because my period should have started today."

"Sweetheart, that doesn't matter. We have time-"

"Just stop it, alright?" you asked, wiping away your tears as he reached for you. "Please, just stop talking. Let's go home."

Bradley rubbed his hand along his lips and mustache before he nodded. When he held his hand out for yours, you didn't take it. Rather you just strolled back up the pier toward the street a few steps in front of him, continuously wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands. 

When you reached the Bronco and went to climb in, Bradley jogged up behind you and buckled the seatbelt for you. He didn't try to kiss you, but he did run his thumb along your knuckles as he whispered, "Love you." 

But you pressed your lips together against the pain in your heart instead of responding to him. And then he took you home in silence, not even bothering to choose a playlist to listen to. 

Now you'd upset your husband by telling him the truth about what was bothering you. He probably thought you were insane, losing yourself like this for the second month in a row. Blaming yourself for not being pregnant yet when you knew, deep inside your mind, that you hadn't actually done anything wrong. But you felt the uncontrollable, hateful desire to blame yourself anyway. 

You were still dabbing at your eyes with your sleeves when Bradley pulled into the driveway. He killed the engine and turned to face you, but you were out the door and heading for the front porch before he could get a single word in. After wrestling with your key for a moment, you shoved the door open and nudged Tramp to keep him inside. But when you turned the lamp on, you froze in place.

Your entire house, literally every surface you could see, was filled with yellow flowers. Tulips, roses, daffodils and zinnias. Everywhere. Just like he had done for you last year. You squeezed your eyes shut, but you could feel Bradley's presence behind you. 

After you sucked in a breath, you peeked into the kitchen and saw more flowers along with pink champagne in the ice bucket next to a beautiful confetti cake. Music was playing softly through the small speaker you kept next to the sink, and you recognized the songs as ones from a playlist Bradley made for you when he had been deployed. Your breathing was getting ragged as you sobbed into your hands.

"I'm sorry," Bradley murmured. "I had Nat and Bob bring everything over to surprise you. Give me a couple minutes and I'll get it cleaned up."

"No," you gasped, crying harder. "It's perfect."

You looked up at him through your tears, and just shook your head. He was hesitating to touch you now, and you hated that. And a second later, you were stumbling forward into his arms.

"Don't clean it up," you whispered. "I love it."

You could feel him slowly wrap his arms around you as you buried your face against his chest and sobbed until you couldn't cry any longer. He just held you there while your head throbbed, gently rubbing your back and shoulders until you were done.

As you sucked in a deep breath, he whispered, "You know, you're not alone here, right? You're literally never alone, because I'm here, too."

You swallowed down your guilt and looked up at him. When you nodded he kissed the tip of your nose. 

"I don't want to have to keep telling you every month that you're not the only one trying for a baby. I don't want you to keep thinking that. This is 50/50 here, Baby Girl. You and me."

"I'm sorry."

He kissed you hard on the lips, effectively silencing you before whispering, "You're not allowed to apologize on your birthday."

You smiled up at him, half laughing and half sobbing. "Fine. I won't then."

He pulled you flush against his body and you took his face in your hands as he said, "We've got plenty of time, Sweetheart."

You ran your thumb along his scars. "I just don't want to disappoint you."

"Never," he promised, his voice growing deep and raspy. "You could never."

"But-"

He kissed you hard again. "All you ever do is make my life better. I wouldn't lie to you about that."

Instead of trying to argue with him, you just nodded and let him kiss you until you were smiling. He was right. You had plenty of time to do everything you wanted to do together. 

With Bradley's lips gliding along your forehead, you whispered, "Should we have some cake?"

A few minutes later, you were sitting on the piano bench next to him with Tramp in your arms, and Bradley played and sang Happy Birthday. He kissed you about a million times as he poured two glasses of champagne and sliced into your birthday cake. Then you stood in your kitchen which smelled like all of the floral arrangements, and he wrapped his arms around you from behind once more. You laughed every time he kissed your cheek and opened his mouth for some cake.

"Thanks, Roo," you whispered before you fed him a bite. You'd make sure he had his favorites for his birthday, lemon cake and beer. And maybe with a little luck, in a few months when he turned thirty seven, you would be skipping the beer in favor of something non-alcoholic. 

"I hope you enjoyed the best day of the year," he murmured. And you realized that all the best parts were when you were with your husband, living in the moment instead of worry about what you couldn't control.

Later, when you were ready for bed and snuggling up on his chest, you told him, "You could never disappoint me, either."

---------------------------

Once again, this one hurts a little bit. Because this really happens. Don't beat yourself up, BG. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls.

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster x you #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster x reader #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #the birthday blues #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster x female reader

[marknee]

bts fanfics i personally think shakespeare would lose his job over in the 1500’s.

chapter i. ✷ chapter ii.

KEYS ON SEVERITY OF SHAKESPEARE’S STATE:

( ✮ ) — poor sod is on the floor. perhaps it’s shock?

( ♬ ) — he’s jealous he didn’t write this himself. well, it sucks to suck, mate.

( ✎ ) — currently handing him a tissue. give him a second.

( ♛ ) — both him and i lost our jobs. her majesty is ruthless.

THE SHAKESPEARE SERIES.

WARNING: keep in mind, some of these authors are very strict on the rule that no minors should read their work if they’re underage, and i will honour that. but, at the end of the day, i am not your parent. so, there’s that. but heed my warning wisely. any smut or 18+ content is highlighted in bold.

NOTE: without further ado, this are the fanfics that i think would cause shakespeare to lose his job: the first of many essays. let’s bring the guy to his knees. metaphorically.

⠀

⠀

( ♛ ) THE BODYGUARD — by @rmnamjoons

!! bodyguard!namjoon x reader | 62.9k !!

bodyguard au, romance, smut, fake dating, slight angst if you squint, lil bit of violence.

firstly, we’re starting off strong. i present to you, the mother of all namjoon fanfics. and she’s a bad bitch. tbh, i feel like this fic needs a moment of silence just to relish in her glory. soak it all up. it’s essential.

this fic genuinely had me gobsmacked at how incredibly written it is. it delves into every detail and no aspect of the story is left dry. you can tell the author put their everything into creating this world you just submerge into. and it shows.

the world building is amazing, the characters are so thought out, and it feels like you’re just on this adventure with them and discovering their story as it plots out.

also, the build up to the smut? out of this world. that’s one thing i love about this fic: it doesn’t feel rushed. everything is very spaced out and takes it’s sweet time, so when you get to the chocolately nut of the ferrero rocher, it’s like gold and well earned. and you can enjoy it.

honestly, it’s been months since i read this and i think about it every day. i did do some research (for my own peace of mind) and this fic is longer than the perks of being a wallflower. and is it better? yes. sorry not sorry.

this work of art deserves to be read and loved. and i rest my case, your honour.

⠀

( ✎ ) UNTIL THE LAST STAR FALLS — by @minniepetals

!! underworld lords!bts x shield!reader | 44.4k !!

reincarnation!au, poly!au, gods!au, unrequited love, minor character death, car accidents.

quick question — for science — how does one happen to lose all their memories without any sustaining any internal or external injuries? because the things i would do to read this again for the first time. and i do not use those words lightly.

this was my first ever ‘longer’ written fic. and if i’m being honest, i never really liked to read them because i have the attention span of a goat. but this fic lures you in from the very start and time slips away like smoke. to say, it definitely left its mark on me.

it’s so brilliantly written and you feel connected to the characters both mind and soul. you want the best for them, you want to save them, you actually want to crawl into the pages (or screen) and fucking help them out. and that sold it to me, i think. just the sheer love for these characters.

i balled when i read the last few sentences. i didn’t want it to end. i think i finished it at three in the morning and sent a voice note of me crying to my friend. tmi? well, now on my christmas list is 7 hot boys in the underworld who would risk their everything for me. and i, them.

worth every single second. trust.

⠀

( ♬ ) WARM THIS WINTER — by @jamaisjoons

!! seokjin x reader ft. ex-boyfriend jungkook | 51.6k !!

christmas!au, vacation!au, angst, fluff, smut (18+).

one thing about solaris, is she never misses. if i could, i think i’d recommend every fanfic she ever put out, but that’s too much effort for me when you could simply click her masterlist. so, i’ll wait here for you to do that. make sure you come back though.

love. sure, there are hundreds- perhaps, thousands of fics on this app about it. so what makes this one different? well, that’s just it. the sorrowful honesty of love. knowing when it’s over, and when it’s blooming in the midst.

i’ve never been in love, but frankly, this fic really spelt it out for me. the pain, the joy, the lingering memories after everything is said and done. it’s all there. and it really settles in your heart as you near the end.

this work pulled on every single heartstring of mine, stamped on them, and then proceeded to sew anew for the future to bring its own miseries. and i enjoyed it more than i can say (or type).

give this a read if you need just that bit of spark in your life. and that bit of sadness, too.

⠀

( ✮ ) STRIKE A CHORD — by @snackhobi

!! yoongi x reader | 15.8k !!

smut (18+), pianist!yoongi.

i don’t know what it is about this fic, but i come back to it whenever it pops up in my mind during my day. i’ll immediately unlock my phone and open this app, knowing i’ll feel better when the last word is read. and i feel content.

the atmosphere in this fic, if i may, feels as though you’re trapped in a warm, safe bubble with hazed music in the distance and soft light spilling through the thin layer of the bubble— not too dark, but enough to make you feel drowsy and peaceful. perhaps that’s why i return to it so often. i like how it makes me feel.

yoongi as an artist is already enough to make a person swoon, but as a pianist? i need a lie down. a cold towel to the head. just the whole characterisation of him in this fic needs a whole separate essay in itself, but you’ll understand my point when you read it.

forever a comfort fic, i think. and forever a comfort person. double whammy. case closed.

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( ✎ ) THE END — by @jimlingss

!! seokjin x reader | 31k !!

fifty percent fluff, fifty percent angst, loosely inspired by to all the boys i’ve loved before.

i say this with my whole chest: i have never underestimated the amount of emotions you can experience during a fanfic, until i read the end— both literally and metaphorically. shock horror.

this fanfic takes you through the adventure of the reader learning of what her future would commence if she were to marry either one of the six members. best part? she’s led through this rollercoaster journey by the ghost of kim seokjin.

first impression to such an offer? sign me the fuck up. i mean, what more could you ask for? however my final impression went a bit more on the lines of what the fuck just happened. very different ends of the spectrum, if you ask me.

i decided to hand both shakespeare and i a tissue after this great piece of art was finished because not only was i sobbing, he was on the floor knowing his romance play of pericles could never live up to such an incredible story.

this fic was a rollercoaster i would be delighted to get onto for another ride.

⠀

( ✎ ) A UNIVERSE TO YOU — by @readyplayerhobi

!! soulmate!hoseok x reader | 41k !!

fluff, angst, smut (18+), soulmates!au.

shakespeare once said (according to google), “it is not in the stars to hold our destiny, but in ourselves,” and if this fic wasn’t a soulmate!au, i think i would’ve agreed in some sorts. but as it is, in fact, a soulmate!au, i’m obliged to disagree. it was destiny i read this fic, hand on heart.

i was not expecting this fic to hit me in the feels as hard as it did. as you can tell by the other works listed in this essay of recommendations, soulmate!au’s come up a lot. and with a lot of the same plots flying around on this app, it’s hard to make one stand out. but this author definitely has a gift.

everything was so richly created it made you feel full. of wonder, of love, and of want. it made you crave it for yourself. and that’s what i love about this fic. it just makes you feel… good. and with the unfortunates of life currently, it’s one to get your head stuck in for some temporary relief.

dream soulmate? he’s right here, people. just enjoy the story and all the feels that float around your body. go on.

⠀

( ✮ ) BUNNY — by @btssmutgalore

!! jungkook x fem!reader | 46.5k !!

non-idol!au, camboy!jk, friends to lovers, smut, angst.

let’s start here: never judge a book by its cover. a quote by george eliot going all the way back to the 19th century, and one i would use to describe this series as a whole, and my first impressions towards it.

this series, although unfinished (i think), has exceeded my expectations of a good smut outlined by a good plot. the best of both worlds, if you might. i came out of this series deeply in awe of the writing and the clear imagery the author manages to create within your own mind.

additionally, bunny was the beginning for me in learning about the world of camboys and camgirls(?), but i was greatly surprised. often, people are unkind to the new and stick to what they’re accustomed to, afraid of what the unknown might bring — me, included.

but, i’m glad i took the risk because i received three great things in return: a beautiful fanfic, knowledge of something that was foreign to me, and an author whose work i admire and shall be returning to in the future.

perhaps what i’m getting at is this could be a lesson to all. take a risk of something unknown because who knows? maybe something great will come out of it, and you’ll learn something. i did.

⠀

( ♬ ) SEOUL UNDERGROUND — by @hunniejimins (ao3)

!! namjoon x jungkook x f!reader | 300k !!

mafia!au, enemies to lovers, violence, slow burn, love triangles, mob boss!namjoon, smut, heavy angst.

it’s ironic really. i found this work by someone else’s recommendation, and now i’m passing on the favour and recommending it to you, dear reader. it’s funny how the world works.

this work is the perfect balance of fantasy and reality and i love it. you’re hit with the beauty and clouded haze of love before being smacked back into the world at the realisation the very person you’re in love with, is a mafia mob boss and his killer mate. a real fun-sponge, i tell ‘ya.

nevertheless, this book kept me up early morning and late evening reading. it keeps you hooked, wanting, and hungry for more.

it’s nothing less of a masterpiece.

⠀

( ✎ ) CREAM AND SUGA — by @snackhobi

!! yoongi x barista f!reader | 14.8k !!

coffee shop!au, barista!au, fluff, nfsw (18+).

@snackhobi is mentioned twice on this list. though, can you blame me? it’s just a good thing shakespeare and this author don’t exist in the same century. it would be absolute carnage but nobody is ready for that conversation.

this author has a talent of portraying yoongi in the most irresistible way possible. i swear, i fall in love with him all over again reading. i wish you understood.

the whole misunderstanding section made me laugh because haven’t we all been there? the crushing pain and overwhelming guilt of having a crush on someone you can’t have. it’s all too real, seriously. been there, done that (unfortunately).

especially having the holidays just past, this is a perfect fic for a warm evening in, while the coldness of winter storms past outside. such a cute fic. love, love, love!

⠀

( ♛ ) LOST AND FOUND — by @taleasnewastime

!! seokjin x reader | 21.2k !!

strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, sfw.

everyone says they have a fanfic that changed them, whether they’re being hyperbolic or brutally honest. and in my case, it’s a matter of both latter and former.

a couple months ago, i reached what i thought was rock bottom regarding my mental state and i took to my imagination to save me from the daily hell of my own mind. and this book was one i never really forgot about.

everything this author wrote within this fic was honest, heartfelt and very, very real. from the way you don’t just go up after going through something, but fall occasionally and sometimes feel as though you’re back at square one, to the way that there definitely is hope in the dark moments, and a light at the end of the tunnel. albeit a very faint one.

it comforted me in a way and reminded me of what i thought to be lost. fruitless, even. but sometimes, it’s books like these that open our eyes to things we’ve forgotten during times of turmoil: the simple goodness of life. and of people.

“if you’re going through hell, keep going.” winston churchill.

⠀

( ✮ ) CANDYLAND — by @honeymoonjin

!! seokjin x reader ft. elf!jk | 13k !!

thriller, angst, fantasy, husband!jin, some cursing.

my mother is the biggest thriller fan. not that you needed to know that, but she is. and she’s not ashamed of it either. she’ll let you know if she’s reading a really good thriller in the moment. trust me, you’ll know.

me? not so much. i’m more of a sappy, hopeless romance, happy ending kind-of-sod — if you haven’t already guessed from this list. but there’s a reason this fic is on the list, too.

this fic genuinely kept me on the edge of my seat- uh, bed. the secrets of what darkness lingered behind the happy exterior of this adventure trip gripped my eyes to the screen, and lord, was it worth it.

throw a bit of husband!seokjin in there too? what more could you want! and written by @honeymoonjin? what a win.

let’s just say after this fic i added a few other thrillers to my basket. and happily reported to my mum i was a changed woman. okay, i’m exaggerating, but you get my point. it was incredible.

⠀

( ✎ ) LILY LUCK — by @gguksgalaxy

!! yoongi x reader | 10.7k !!

soulmates!au, angst, fluff if u squint, very slight implicit sexual content, anxiety.

although this fic may be the shortest on the list, do not underestimate its power. it is still as mighty as the others— perhaps, even more so.

i think the main emotion i want to hone into concerning this fanfic is compassion. it sinks into your bones and surrounds your entire being like a unwanted hug. and you can’t even stop it.

the author does a good job of making you feel intense compassion for the reader — who so desperately wants to meet her soulmate. which makes the ending that much more satisfying.

this is for those who’re lonely, need a pick up, or those who’re hopeless romantics and believe in love belonging to fate, such as myself.

“expectation is the root of all heartache.” william shakespeare. talking of the devil, he would definitely cry over this fic. either of bubbling emotions, or the fact he didn’t write it himself. sucks really. for him, not for me.

© marknee, 2023. all rights reserved.

#shakespeare series #bts #bts series #bts x reader #bts fic recs #fic rec #kpop #bts smut #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts fic #bts scenarios #jungkook #namjoon au #taehyung #seokjin fic #hoseok #jiminbts #yoongi #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader

[thel0v3hashira143]

❝ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐄! ❞

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ yuuji megumi gojo nanami n choso ☆ how jjk men act when they have a crush on you!

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ fem!reader, black coded but anyone can read

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ notes: ahhh the comeback post!! let's just say my old works were...less than coherent. but im here and ready to slay the day after 2-ish years!! take these crumbs while i try and find my footing again. stay hot lovies 🎀🎀

yuuji itadori 🌸

my babyyy (sob sob) yuuji would def try to impress you with his athleticism, bc girls like that stuff right? (gojo told him that...save him)

he frequently challenges you to friendly competitions when sparring to showing off his skills.

he def let's you get quite a few hits on him and he may even let you win from time to time (seeing your smile makes getting knocked on his ass worth it)

he might act a bit bashful, but he's straightforward. he knows he has a crush on you so why would he hide it?

expect nice gestures like him wanting to carry things for you, buying you food, watching all your fav movies, ect.

speaking of which, movie hangouts!!!

every friday usually you, megumi, nobara, and yuuji all get together and watch a movie

buuuttt if he's feeling especially brave he'll invite you to his dorm to watch the newest movie in your favorite series! (yes, he keeps track of when they come out)

he loves that it becomes y'alls thing and he loves it even more when you lay your head on his shoulder and doze off &lt;;33

he also gives hella compliments cause something in my gut says his love language is words of affirmation.

anticipate many "isn't [name] just the coolest?" or "you look great today [name]!"

im telling you he could never run out of nice things to say to you, whether it be about your looks or personality

as soon as he realizes he likes you he takes down those pin up girl posters in his dorm

he also obviously thinks you're more beautiful than jennifer lawrence argue wit ur mama

he is also obviously a personality over looks guy so dont act surprised if you see him looking at you with a lovesick grin if he catches you doing something kind for someone

expect him to confess his feelings sooner rather than later

"yeah, why wouldn't i have a crush on [name]? shes beautiful and badass! but don't tell her, okay?"

megumi fushiguro 🌸

megumi, unlike yuuji is quite reserved, even with his friends

honestly gives no indication that he likes you at all 💀💀 he stares at you pretty intensely at first (to admire your beauty) but quickly catches on that you think its weird..

once you two get closer though, megumi would frequently express his crush through small gestures

he strikes me as a reader so i can see him recommending his favorite books to you or even lending you some of his.

you two exchange books often and he highlights quotes that remind him of you

i can also see book shop hangouts where you two sit and read together in some small bookshop he found in the city.

(he's just admiring you read)

he's not a huge compliment/affirmation guy but quality time is a big one for him

whether it be on missions, sparring, or out with the rest of the first year's, he enjoys any time he can have with you.

megumi is also very protective but like...subtly

he secretly watches out for you during missions, making sure you're safe without drawing attention to it

he'll insist you two split up but send one of his divine dogs to accompany you to wherever you go.

even when you're out and about in tokyo he always likes to stay close to you. he follows you around (not in a creepy way more like a lost puppy way)

follows you into stores you like even if he has absolutely no interest.

all in all he's just a shy guy who's whipped for you &lt;3

"i enjoy spending time with you. a lot."

teen!satoru gojo 🌸

gojo...you bastard...(affectionate)

erm ngl i can def see him being a bully to you at first...

not like a bully bully but he def teases you a lot and it gets under your skin sometimes. (you hate him)

but in reality hes jus a spoiled litte rich boy in love.

once he realizes his feelings he still pokes fun at you sometimes, but tones it down hard and turns on his charm.

gojo's approach is confident and playful. he teases you, always with a charming grin, creating a dynamic that keeps things lighthearted and enjoyable.

he'll find excuses to spend time with you, whether it's offering to train together

unlike yuuji he doesn't care if he likes you this son of a gun will NOT let you win istg

it's like he's trying to rile you up, saying ridiculously cheesy one liners as he dodges all your attacks.

"thats the best you got? oh [name], we'll never get to be together if i keep beating you!"

one thing he does enjoy doing with you however, are snack runs.

gojo is a big back in disguise with too much money to spend so you already knows most of that goes towards food.

he has a huge sweet tooth so i can see you guys browsing multiple sweets shops in the city. if he sees you even look at something for too long he'll buy 10 of them.

every trip you guys both leave with full bellies and full hearts &lt;3

gojo wants to be around you, and he makes sure it's fun for you both

his confession is likely to be straightforward. ccompanied by his trademark smile and his sparkling blue eyes peeking from his shades.

"you know, i've been thinking... i'm kind of into you. what do you say we make things a bit more interesting?"

teen!kento nanami 🌸

my emo boy ❤️‍🩹

nanami, with his composed demeanor, expresses his feelings (though you were unsure if he even had any) through thoughtful actions.

he remembers every. single. detail. of anything you say to him.

your favorite attist dropped an album today? he already bought you the cd/vinyl. you never got a chance to go to the store to get your favorite snack? he went 2 days ago.

he revels in the fact that he knows so much about yousnd the surprised look on your face gets him every time.

(haibara claims he's seen nanami smile at you multiple times but he vehemently denies it.)

despite his serious appearance, he'll occasionally crack dry jokes when it's just the two of you

look at that man and tell me he doesn't have a dry sense of humor 😭😭

you help him to relax and he feels he can truly be himself around you. when you two are alone its like hes showing a different side to his personality.

like megumi, i can see quality time being a big thing for him since attending jujutsu high leaves him quite busy

hes also not a huge talker so whenever you two do spend time together its probably somewhere intimate like your dorm or the library.

no words, just vibes. which he appreciates since he's around a bunch of yipper yappers all day.

nanami's confession is understated but sincere.

"i appreciate the time we spend together. it's made me realize there's something more i feel..."

choso kamo 🌸

my babyyyy no. 2 (i need him biblically)

let's get one thing straight tho. choso is a curse. in my opinion curses have no idea of love in a healthy, positive way so let's just say bb is confused.

he obviously knows what love is. he loves his brothers but he doesnt wanna kiss them...and cuddle them...

he goes to yuuji for advice (was it a bad idea? perhaps.)

"bro you totally have a crush on [name]!"

"a crush?"

after some further investigation hes pretty much got the gist of it.

one thing he becomes quite fond of doing is giving you small gifts from his missions.

these aren't typic gifts persay, like food, clothing or jewelry but more like knickknacks such as shells or rocks.

these tokens become a way for him to express what words might fail to convey.

i headcannon choso likes nature documentaries and after seeing that penguins mate for life by gifting a rock to their mate he's hooked.

idk but i also feel like he's very touchy.

he always has an eye on you in public and ik he does the thing where he guides u with his hand on the small of your back or he locks pinkies with you UGHHHH

with him being protective, he also subtly keeps an eye on you during missions.

he's not one to voice his concern directly but prefers to ensure your safety from the danger.

choso's confession might catch you off guard, but it's filled with honesty and sincerity.

"i've found myself caring about you more than I expected. it's strange..."

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ omg i actually really like this...(watch me hate it in a week) but reqs are open!! i have 1 or 2 more pieces planned to get me in the swing of things but take this before then. love y'all!!

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐲 ♡

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𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚!

𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙡0𝙫3𝙝𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙖143 2024

#Words of the Love Hashira 💗 #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuuji x reader #megumi x reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #choso x reader #x black fem reader #black writers on tumblr

[neptuneiris]

could you pretend to be in love? (02/10)

The Contract

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: there is no turning back now and now you and Aemond set the rules and conditions to start the whole farce.

word count: 4.6k

previous part • next part • series masterlist

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!🥳

I thought this would be a very nice way to wish happy new year to all of you beautiful people who support me and like what I write, you don't know how much that means to me🥺

thank you for so much support and for so much love, I have loved being here and I definitely plan to stay for longer, seeing how that love evolves and my place here as a writer🥰 so enjoy a lot this new chapter that I really hope you like it a lot❤

many blessings to all of you, my best wishes for your lives in this 2024, I love you all so much!😊❤

enjoy!

It's the first thing you see after turning off the alarm and you curiously enter to read the recent messages from an unknown number, not having the slightest idea of who it might be.

But you let out a long sigh of frustration when you read them and see that it's Aemond, who you don't understand how the fuck he got your number. Of course, it shouldn't have been hard for him, just a few questions and anyone can tell him what he wants to know.

And knowing that you have a long day ahead of you today, you already feel the pressure all over your body when you haven't even left your bed, where you also feel the frustration and all this uncertainty that you thought you had already overcome, but no.

You barely accepted yesterday and suddenly putting the plan into action from one day to the next, it's too much. But without really having a choice, you reluctantly force yourself to get up and start getting ready.

After an hour, you leave your house with the nagging feeling of carrying a weight on your shoulders to school. And all the way there, not even the music in your ears can make your mind calm down for a moment.

Knowing very soon that your whole social life will be a mess and you will no longer be invisible, since after all Aemond was right in that respect, causes you even more uneasiness and also nervousness because you are going to pretend to be the girlfriend of the most popular guy in school.

And once the bus makes its stop, you soon enter the halls of the bustling school. And knowing that a certain silver-haired guy is waiting for you right now, every heavy step you take towards the schoolyard echoes loudly in your ears, increasing your nervousness and anxiety.

You're even tempted to back up and tell him to forget it, but you resist and keep moving forward.

As you walk through the huge doors of the backyard, it's only a matter of time before you make out the figure of Aemond sitting at the same table as yesterday in the distance. Your heart skips a beat and you feel more nervous, but gathering your courage and taking a long breath, you advance towards him, ready but with uncertain steps.

Every step seems heavy, as if you are walking into the unknown and you try to hide the nerves in your gaze, especially when Aemond notices your presence. He watches you and slowly turns to you, a subtle smile on his lips.

Again there is that feeling of telling him to forget it, to find someone else, that you can't do this. But... your mind stops you and screams at you not to be silly, that at the end of it all there will be a reward, a very good reward that getting it by faking a relationship with him, is nothing.

And it's definitely worth it.

So resigned, you reach out to him.

"Hey," he says to you without wiping off his little smile, as you take a seat in front of him and he waits for you to finish settling in, "So you've come."

"Don't bother me," you tell him without humor, definitely contrasting his mood to yours.

"Now what did I do?"

"That," you point to his face, "You're enjoying this, seeing that I haven't backed out."

"Oh, please, I actually thought you wouldn't come and tell me to fuck off after you thought better of it," he justifies himself.

"Yeah? Well, nothing a free admission to your dream college won't do," you say with a slightly sarcastic tone, though implicitly admitting your reasons, "And it's actually not like I like skipping classes, so could we get this started?"

Aemond exhales long, averting his gaze from yours for a moment before returning to watching you.

"You know you'll have to be charming and act like you're completely in love with me in public, right?" he poses, expectantly.

"Yes, I know... in public," you point out to him, "Just now no one knows we're 'dating' genius," you add, underlining the falsity of the situation.

He places a small, amused, smirk on his lips.

"Yet."

He adds with a slightly defiant tone and you roll your eyes.

"Don't get too excited either."

"Are you not?"

"Oh yeah, I can't handle the excitement," you feign in a high-pitched, ironic voice, making exaggerated hand gestures.

Aemond lets out a short but genuine laugh at your gesture. He leans back slightly, his eye revealing a mischievous glint as he watches you.

"Glad to see you're keeping your sense of humor in this," he says with his tone changing slightly to a more relaxed one.

"I don't have much choice, do I?" you reply, accepting his change of mood, but still maintaining a certain emotional distance.

You figure it's just a matter of the two of you getting more into trust, and if you're going to do this with him, you're definitely going to do your part. But for now, this is still a little awkward and unexpected. And the sooner you do this, the better it will be for you.

So you shift your focus and lean forward slightly with a more serious expression on your face.

"So let's get started?"

"Well, making a contract will take up a lot of our time, so I thought it would be easier to just say and agree between us-

"It will be easier this way, to write down and establish the rules and the conditions we want to do during all this, just to have everything clear and not miss anything, Aemond," you interrupt him, taking out a notebook and a pen to start writing.

"Okay, fine," he says, shrugging his shoulders.

"So?" you watch him expectantly with the blank sheet of paper in front of you and your pen in hand, "What do you suggest first?"

"Well... first we need to know when this will all end," he begins to say, adopting a relaxed but firm stance, "And I would say that it may end when it is no longer necessary for both of you to continue pretending. But I think it's a better idea for us to last until graduation."

He proposes, looking at you intently, waiting for your reaction and you can't help but be a little surprised to hear that.

"Until graduation?" you repeat and he nods, "But you really want to do this for almost five months?"

"I know it's a long time, but that time can be beneficial for both of us," he explains, "That's enough time to give our relationship credibility and authenticity and it's also enough time to handle any problems that arise."

He says and you nod cautiously, evaluating his words.

"But if you disagree, tell me," he hurries to say.

His calm tone and your reasons contrast with the uncertainty and indecision you feel. And the two of you have barely started.

Five months is such a compromising situation and it generates some concern, because you know you will face so many things you still have no idea about and every day it could become more complicated to maintain the farce.

"I guess it's okay," you cautiously admit, trying to see the big picture, "But I feel like it's still a long time. But also reducing that time might not be enough," you agree.

"Yes but I'm sure we can handle it. And don't worry, if at some point we feel it's too much or we don't have enough reason to keep pretending anymore, we can talk iand end it."

You remain pondering, considering his words and after a few seconds you nod in agreement, and write it down as the first point on the sheet. But this alone is the first piece of a much more complicated puzzle.

1. Duration of relationship: Until graduation.

And Aemond also brings up the next point of the contract, expressing his ideas with quiet but evident assurance.

"Now, second..." he begins, "As for behavior in public, we should genuinely show affection in the hallways, cafeteria, and at any school activity and event. In a relationship people don't take their hands off each other, so we should smile at each other, hug each other, make subtle gestures, hold hands-

"Don't say kissing, please," you interrupt him, pleading, taking him by surprise.

"Of course, Y/N," he tells you instantly, incredulous, "Obviously we'll have to kiss."

As if having to act completely in love with him and be every moment touching him isn't enough. But the idea of kissing seems a bit much to you.

"I agree about showing affection and all that, but that kissing thing might be awkward and... weird," you say, trying to be sincere but not seeming completely closed off to the idea.

Aemond looks at you incredulously.

"So you don't want us to kiss?"

"I don't think it's necessary, honestly."

"Are you crazy? How are we supposed to pretend if we're not going to kiss? No one's going to believe us if we don't kiss and that's what will literally make the whole relationship believable," he insists, visibly concerned.

"Yeah, I get that it might seem necessary, but...at least I don't want to be having to kiss you every single time."

"You don't want to kiss me?" he asks you, visibly surprised, confused and... maybe a little hurt?

You watch him silently for a moment not understanding his reaction and then watch him with a small amused smile.

"I'm not one of your fans, Targaryen."

"Oh come on, everyone wants to kiss me," he says confused and incredulous, proving his point.

"Even the guys?"

"Well... yeah, I don't know, maybe some of them," he says with a shrug.

"Seven Hells," you mutter, averting your gaze for a moment, "I-I really don't want to do that," you say, speaking seriously and then you let out a sigh, "But you're right that no one's going to believe us-

"Obviously. I always have," he is quick to say.

"So my proposal is this... we'll kiss, yes, but only when it's extremely necessary, and when I say extremely necessary I mean extremely necessary."

You watch him intently, keeping yourself willing with your proposal, waiting for his opinion, which judging by his face, he doesn't quite agree with.

"And what would those extremely necessary moments be exactly?" he inquires, attentive and interested, also still looking slightly worried.

"In the cafeteria or in the hallways when everyone is obviously looking at us and we're attracting attention. Just don't abuse it."

Aemond lets out a long breath.

"Well, let's limit them to extremely necessary moments," he finally says resignedly and you quickly note the second point.

2. Behavior in public: Show affection as genuinely as possible in public, such as gestures, hugs, and holding hands. KISSING ONLY WHEN EXTREMELY NECESSARY.

"But then that second point is also going to apply to the parties you'll be going to with me and my lacrosse games you'll be going to."

You quickly raise your gaze to him.

"What?"

"Yes," he nods, "Going to the parties together will also lend credibility to the relationship and obviously we have to be very close to each other. And it's the same in my games, you must go to support and encourage me, like any girlfriend in love with her boyfriend would."

Aemond's words provoke an instant reaction in you, that confusing you and taking you by surprise.

"But I don't go to parties."

"Now you will," he says with a calm expression, reaching out his hand and taking the pen and your notebook.

"But-

He is already writing in a section further down the sheet which he lists as; 'additional conditions'.

Parties.

Lacrosse games.

"Aemond, I'm not a big fan of parties, really," you insist, "You'll have a bad time if you take me with you and I'll probably ruin everything."

"Don't worry, I'll teach you the trick to having a good time and change that mentality you have. Besides I won't take you to every party, just a few," he assures you, "All while keeping up appearances," he hands you back your notebook and pen, "With me you'll never get bored, I promise," he says with a small smile on his lips.

You let out a sigh, placing the notebook back in front of you, still undecided.

"Yes? Well, we'll see about that. I warned you though."

He lets out a soft little laugh.

"Come on Y/N, you can't be that bad."

"I assure you I can be."

"And so what do you do for fun?" he asks you, keeping his smile, curiosity evident in his gaze.

And there it is, the question that totally describes your personality and that in fact you don't like to answer to just anyone, because then they call you boring. But you can't lie to Aemond, he is astute enough and would notice.

So you decide to be honest.

"I like to read," you reply, lowering your gaze and feeling slightly embarrassed, "And I love going to the movies or watching movies and shows at home, either one is totally fine with me. Oh... and... hm... I also like ice skating, although I don't do that as often but... it's something I like too."

And even though it's only a bit of the world of things you like, Aemond listens to you attentively with a soft expression, saying nothing afterwards, as if he's processing every word you've said, while you only feel more embarrassed by the silence.

You know there's nothing wrong with it but it always made you insecure to share your hobbies, mostly because you know that many girls your age enjoy their teenage years going out with friends to parties and getting drunk.

That didn't and doesn't appeal to you now. You have long been more comfortable with the idea of staying home or going out somewhere else instead of going to parties.

It's not as if you don't attend or avoid every social event, yes you can attend and have a good time depending on who you are with and where, but not as often as every weekend.

However, you understand and recognize the logic behind Aemond's suggestion and that is that attending parties, is essential. And just as he is about to finally speak, you do so first.

"I know they are simple things and are not very exciting for most people. I also know they can be very boring but for me... that's what I like," you shyly confess.

"Hm," he says, taking a small moment, watching you softly, only causing you even more embarrassment, "Well, that's not what I was going to say," he says, catching your attention, "Sometimes it is the simple things that mean the most to everyone and, being honest... I find them interesting," he adds, trying to evaporate any awkwardness and embarrassment you might feel.

You raise your gaze, meeting his bright blue eye watching you softly and with his gaze full of genuine understanding, along with that hint of curiosity. And that gets your attention too.

He's not judging you. And even though it's not something he would do or at least hasn't tried to do yet, he's not judging you for it and you see that genuine interest in his gaze.

"Tell you what, for every party you go to with me, I'll read one of your favorite books or a movie or shows you want me to watch," he says, picking up the notebook and pen again.

"What?" you look at him confused, unable to help but smile in bewilderment, "Are you serious?"

"You must set your own conditions too," he states as he writes, "I already dragged you into my world, so now you're dragging me into yours," he looks up at you, "What do you think? Is it a fair exchange or not?"

His proposal takes you by surprise and also confuses you a little, however, the small smile remains on your face.

The genuine expression of openness on his face and the determination with which he wrote definitely makes you feel more comfortable. His willingness to immerse himself in your interests was not something you had agreed upon from the beginning, nor is it something extremely necessary to fake a relationship.

But it's for the simple reason that you both feel comfortable if you're going to pretend for almost five months and it seems like a nice gesture from him to include it, something you honestly didn't expect from him.

And when he gives you back your notebook, you see the new rule under 'additional conditions'.

For every party Y/N goes to with me, I will read a book or watch one of her favorite movies or shows.

"Yes," you nod, "Sounds like a fair deal to me."

Aemond smiles, pleased with your answer and also seeing the expression on your face.

"Great. We'll see if I discover something new I like. And you too..." he points at you with his index finger, "You won't regret it after you have a great time at my parties," he says enthusiastically, with a sort of complicity in his tone.

"Well, we'll see if you manage to impress me."

And right there, the two of you exchange complicit glances, Aemond having that little smile on his lips while you don't understand this strange new alliance the two of you are building.

But even though you didn't expect it, it's definitely to your liking.

"Now, third..." you point to the notebook with your pen, "Reinforcing the second rule, public appearance," you say, observing him, "We must act as a committed and attentive couple to each other at school and to these parties you want us to go to."

Aemond nods determinedly, thoughtfully.

"Yes, commitment at all times," he states seriously.

"So, that also means that neither of us can be with other people for the duration of all this, not even secretly," you add, making the point clear.

"And you want to write that as a rule too? It's obvious that neither of us should-

"I'll write it as the fourth rule, just to be clear about everything as I told you."

"Oh, fine."

3. Public appearance: Act like a real couple in love, be committed and attentive to each other at school and social events.

4. No involvement with other girls/guys: No casual encounters or texting with anyone else for the duration of the fake relationship.

"Oh and also..." says Aemond, reminding, "Since we're at that point, on additional conditions write that we should both upload photos and videos together on our social media. It's another way to lend credibility to our relationship."

"Photos and videos together on our social media," you repeat, looking at the notebook.

And this catches Aemond's attention.

"Don't tell me you don't use your social media," he says beginning to sound alert and concerned.

"No, no, I-I mean, yes," you hasten to say, "It's just... I don't know, I most likely don't use them as often as you do, besided I have very few followers."

"Don't worry, whatever followers you have are fine. Besides, I'm sure they'll increase when I upload my first photo with you."

You roll your eyes with an amused smile.

"Okay, Mr. Popularity."

"And speaking of that, hand me your Instagram and all your networks," he says instantly, grabbing his cell phone from his front pocket, "We better have that all figured out now."

Obviously Aemond's accounts had to be public while you maintain your privacy, with barely thirteen hundred followers while he has almost the entire school following him and probably from other schools as well.

In fact, your numbers compared to his are embarrassing. But you never really had the interest of having more followers on Instagram or more friends on Facebook, Snapchat is the same and apparently that doesn't matter to Aemond.

Upload photos and videos together to our social media.

"And well, I also think another very important thing is to maintain privacy," you suggest, lifting your gaze to watch him and Aemond gives you a confused look.

"Do you really want to write that down too? It's obvious we can't tell anyone-

"Let me enjoy this, Aemond. It's actually fun and I want to write it all down. So act serious," you ask.

He lets out a choked laugh.

"Well, yes, we must be discreet, no one must know that all this is false, only we know the truth and we must keep it that way," he says and you excitedly write it down.

"We mustn't involve our families in this either," you add, watching him intently, "But that will be difficult because your siblings are here," you grimace.

"We can keep up the farse with them for a while too, I'll convince them not to say anything to my mother or the rest of my family. And once everyone here at school is convinced enough, I'll tell the truth only to them," he say sure and confident, solving the problem.

"And you're sure you'll manage to keep them that way?"

"Yeah," he says with a shrug, "They're my siblings. I know how it works with each one."

5. Maintain privacy: Tell absolutely no one about the fake relationship or involve each other's families in it.

"Oh, right, I almost forgot..." Aemond says as he points to what is already written, "You must also go on each year's trip to Dragonstone with me. That's another additional condition of mine."

"What?" you inquire again, surprised and confused.

"Yes, the trip to Dragonstone," he affirms.

Oh God, the trip to Dragonstone.

Dragonstone is an island not far from King's Landing, where there is an ancient castle with a lot of history but has been modernized with the same name and is open to every visitor.

The school makes an annual trip for educational purposes as the castle has relics and structuring from thousands of years ago. You have seen pictures and videos where everything looks really beautiful, ancestral and almost royalty.

In addition the castle offers other activities, such as rides on its huge luxury yachts, surfing, diving and swimming lessons.

You always had the spirit to go but have always known that the trip is anything but educational. You've heard stories that happen with the students, such as getting drunk, partying on the yachts, hot tubs and obviously you've heard stories of who slept with whom.

Even the most reserved get to have fun and it's not something you're interested in. You know you don't fit in that environment, especially since everyone has to share a room and you're sure that if you go, you'll have to share a room with girls with different tastes and perspectives than yours. They probably won't even let you sleep.

"Come on Y/N, you've never been to Dragonstone?" asks Aemond incredulously, noting the grimace on your face for wanting you to go there with him.

"Well, yeah I've wanted to go but... I-I, I don't know, I've heard that instead of learning about the place, everyone goes to having fun, they party, they get drunk and I-I don't...

"And what do you expect us to do in a modern castle on the shore of the beach with yachts and hot tubs?" he inquires again, expectantly, "The trip is planned for the middle of the last month of these five months and you can't let me go alone with the things that go on in that place."

You make your grimace more visible, revealing your clear indecision. And even though you and Aemond have been at odds lately over the matter of tastes, he still places a soft smile in your direction, understanding that you are not like him and prefer to do other things.

"Look, you don't have to go to the parties and drink if you don't want to," he starts to tell you, "But we can at least go to one of the parties on the yachts and then do the activities they offer on site, swimming, diving and all that," he proposes, "We'll take pictures, tour the castle and we'll both be equally satisfied."

You ponder for a moment, considering his proposal. You know you only have to get your father's signature on the permit to be able to go to the island and it's not like you've gone before so... you can do it now.

"Well, I guess that's fine," you nod, "But really promise you won't leave me alone and we'll take the time to do other activities that aren't related to partying on yachts and hot tubs."

"Please, we'll go as a couple, so of course I won't leave you alone. You'll be stuck with me," he assures you, "And I also promise you that we'll do other activities, not just the parties."

"And..." you start to say, in a serious, warning tone, "Also promise you'll pick me up every morning to bring me to school. That's another one of my additional conditions. The bus isn't very comfortable anymore."

He nods, shrugging, completely unconcerned.

"Sure, it's no problem. Besides it will make the relationship more credible," he says softly.

Despite your doubts, you feel a sense of relief at seeing and acknowledging his commitment. And you also feel more confident knowing that you have his support in all of this, even in your conditions. So you write down the two new additional conditions.

Drive Y/N every morning to school.

Dragonstone trip.

At the end you both sign the sheet, looking honestly ridiculous but being funny, then both seal the whole contract by shaking hands.

"So when do we start all this?" you ask him, putting away your notebook and pen.

"I say tomorrow," he gives you a look of understanding, "But we need to talk now during classes in the hallways or in the cafeteria, so that when they see us together tomorrow, it won't be so surprising and will seem more believable."

You give him an unsure look.

"I think it will still be very surprising, Aemond."

"It doesn't matter, we just have to start showing together today, just talking. But tomorrow is when we really start."

And just as he says those words, with that determination, you feel again those nerves in your lower abdomen and that insecurity. But at least you still have all day today to mentally prepare yourself, and you're grateful for that.

"And before I forget this too..." he says again, "I need you to send me all your academic information to work on your college application now," he tells you seriously and you watch him completely attentively, "The five months will go by fast and during that time college applications will start. So it's best to get it all in now."

At this, you feel your heart start to beat fast and you don't know why, you guess because it's a very important issue for you. And more than anything else it's the reason you agreed to do this with him.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," you say softly, "I-I'll email it all to you."

He smiles softly in your direction.

"Very well," he nods at you, "I'll text you my email."

Despite your slight doubts about whatever is going to happen next, the idea of starting a fake relationship leaving you with a knot in your stomach and feeling your emotions mixed, you know this will all be worth a try.

So you pick up your phone and you start to write in an email all your personal and academic information. While at the same time all is said and done and the fake relationship contract is over.

THE CONTRACT

Duration of relationship: Until graduation.

Behavior in public: Show affection as genuinely as possible in public, such as gestures, hugs, and holding hands. KISSING ONLY WHEN EXTREMELY NECESSARY.

Public appearance: Act like a real couple in love, be committed and attentive to each other at school and social events.

No involvement with other girls/guys: No casual encounters or texting with anyone else for the duration of the fake relationship.

Maintain privacy: Tell absolutely no one about the fake relationship or involve each other's families in it.

ADDITIONAL CONDITIONS

Parties.

Lacrosse games.

For every party Y/N goes to with me, I will read a book or watch one of her favorite movies or shows.

Upload photos and videos together to our social media.

Drive Y/N every morning to school.

Dragonstone trip.

general taglist

@melsunshine @at-a-rax-ia @jxdegodfrey @ttkttt @yentroucnagol @kate-to-the-ki @iamavailablesstuff

#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x y/n #modern aemond #modern hotd

[sugrhigh]

ALL YOURS - ( roomie!matt pt 5 )

summary- you and your roommate matt have been sleeping together for a minute now, but neither one of you wants to ask the other what it means. feelings come to fruition one night at a party and the dynamics of your relationship change once again.

warnings- nsfw content ahead people so read at ur own risk, swearing, drug/alcohol use, dom!matt kinda, unprotected sex, it’s straight up smut at the end so fr don’t read it if u don’t want to!

roomie!matt x fem!reader

a/n: THIS IS TECHNICALLY PART 5 OF THE ROOMIE!MATT TEXT SERIES so if you haven’t read those you might be a bit confused. link to the master list is here.

strap in because it’s kinda long so i hope u guys love this final chapter as much as i do <3 inbox is always open xo

@sleepysturnss

rain patters against the windows mercilessly as the tv drones on, interrupted only by booming thunder every few minutes.

its late in the day now, and the cloud coverage makes it extra gloomy, even with interior lights on. not that this bothers you.

storms have always been a source of comfort in your eyes. something about them makes you feel safe, reminds you that the world is far bigger than whatever is worrying you.

“oh, i’ve been meaning to ask if you’re still seeing that guy. what’s his name again?” nick asks from beside you, scrolling mindlessly on his phone as he slumps against the couch.

you’ve been sitting like this for hours together, rotting in his living room while it continues to pour outside.

“it’s luke, and no, i’m not talking to him anymore.” you reply, trying to sound as casual as possible.

he looks up at you now, clearly a bit shocked to be hearing this. “please tell me it’s not because of my bitch ass brother.”

you bark out a laugh before you can stop yourself, mostly due to the fact that it’s absolutely because of matt. just not for the reason he thinks.

“as if. it was my decision, don’t worry.”

this is only half true. you did cut the poor guy off, but only because matt had essentially instructed you to do so before you guys had sex for the first time a month ago.

and then you hooked up again. and again. and a couple more times after that. neither of you could stop coming back for more apparently.

none of your friends know yet. as much as you want to be honest with them, you haven’t really talked about the details of this little situation. you’re almost positive matt hasn’t been seeing anyone else, but you also haven’t outright asked.

and there’s no use telling everyone about something that might not even be real.

“what made you do that? was the sex bad? is he an asshole?” nick interrogates further, clicking his phone off so his full attention is on you.

you can’t tell if he’s suspicious or if you’re just genuinely paranoid, but you don’t like this line of questioning either way.

“no he’s fine, he just wasn’t doing it. and his breath always smelled for some reason.” you’re lying through your teeth, but his face morphs into an expression of disgust like he’s buying it.

“ew, major turn off.”

“you’re telling me.”

nick sighs and snuggles further into the cushions, resting his head on your shoulder as he stares at the tv.

“well for what it’s worth, i’m sorry it didn’t work out. but who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone sexy at nathan’s tomorrow.” he says.

“yeah, maybe.” you feed into the hypothetical, even though you know that won’t be happening.

at least not if matt sturniolo has a say in it.

-

your music is playing softly over the speaker as you get ready, perched in front of your vanity like a doll. you’ve just finished your makeup when you hear a singular tap on the door.

“can you hurry it up in here?” matt calls as he pushes it open slightly.

you find it funny that he’s always sure to knock, ever since he walked in on you naked that fateful afternoon. even though you’re literally sleeping together now, he makes it a point to not invade your privacy.

“can’t rush perfection, matthew.” you taunt him as you put your palette and brushes back in their rightful place.

he moves further into your room, walking over to stand behind you. he’s dressed up in jeans and that black muscle tee you love so much, tattoos on display as his hands go to knead your shoulders lightly.

“you do look amazing.” he compliments.

“likewise.” you reply before meeting his searing gaze in the reflection of the mirror.

he increases his pressure slightly, digging his fingers into your neck in a steady pattern. you already know what he’s angling at and he hasn’t even spoken.

“you know, we could just stay home.” matt suggests with a smirk.

“c’mon, we can’t keep ditching our friends. they’re gonna get suspicious at some point.” you shake your head and stand up, because the massage is starting to feel a little too good.

“nobody cared when we left early last time.”

you cross your arms over your chest and turn to give him a pointed look. “because you convinced them that i was sick.”

“so i’ll just tell them a different lie.” he shrugs.

“oh my god, i am going to this party with or without you, so you better make up your mind before the uber gets here.” you say over your shoulder, headed out of your room toward the stairs.

“such a brat.” he grumbles, but you hear him following you regardless.

“only for you.”

two hours later you’re standing in the middle of nathan’s living room, dancing along with the typical crowd. nick and madi are on either side of you, both bopping around drunkenly to the beat.

you’ve had three shitty drinks at this point and your head feels a bit fuzzy. you’re positive your cheeks are flushed, which is actually kind of nice.

matt was with you minutes earlier, but he’s ventured off to get another drink. it’s selfish that you miss him every second he’s not around.

it’s just nice having him by your side. sure, it was kind of casual at first, and you didn’t think it was going to develop so quickly. but now whatever is going on between you means a whole lot more.

you like when he asks you to spend the night in his room, or when he saves the last can of redbull for you so you don’t go to work without caffeine. you like that he’s been replacing the flowers he got you every time they start die, the way he insists on driving you places even if it’s out of his way.

you just like him, and it’s more than casual. at least it is to you, and you can’t imagine that at this point he doesn’t feel the same.

but you don’t want to be the one to try and put a label on it. quite frankly, it scares the shit out of you, and you’re still not drunk enough to keep thinking about it in the middle of this party.

you see chris a few feet away against the wall, beer in his hand as he chats animatedly with nathan. you know he has what you’re looking for, so you shout that you’ll be back and head their direction.

they both smile at you as you approach, almost perfectly in sync.

“what’s up!” chris leans down a bit so you can hear him better.

“do you still have that joint you mentioned earlier?” you ask into his ear.

he nods happily, and nathan shoots you both a questioning glance. by the looks of his sleepy eyes, he’s probably already crossed.

“we’re going to smoke!” you fill him in, motioning toward the front door.

nathan nods and tells you he’ll stay back, so the two of you shuffle your way out of the living room, trying to avoid bumping into as many people as possible.

you pass the kitchen, and as your eyes scan the people you spot matt huddled in the corner. he’s talking to a very obviously enthusiastic girl, one that you don’t recognize. your stomach drops at the sight of them, and you hate it.

he doesn’t see you, so you turn your head and keep following behind chris. he’ll stop talking to her soon. he’ll probably even come looking for you instead.

right?

the crowd thins as out by the door, and the two of your step out into the fresh air moments later. the street is relatively quiet, and once the door is shut the noise of the party is muffled. there’s nobody else outside, and you’re grateful.

the other townhouses stare at you as chris crosses the short driveway so he can hide underneath the tree in the yard. you follow his lead, watching as he fishes the lighter and joint out of his front pocket.

“keeping it handy, huh?” you joke.

“you caught me at the right time, i just packed it upstairs.” he smiles before putting it between his lips.

the flame burns the end as he takes a hit, exhaling up toward the sky. you pass it back and forth in silence, both enjoying the momentary break from socialization.

chris clears his throat a minute later, nudging at the grass with his toe absentmindedly. “so, i have a question to ask you.”

he looks over so he can hand the joint back, and your hands shake ever so slightly as you reach out to take it.

“yeah?”

“i think matt is seeing someone. do you know anything about that?” he asks bluntly.

you try to remain calm as you shake your head at him, though it seems impossible. you aren’t prepared for this at all.

“uh, no?”

chris smiles just a little bit, like he’s already got you right where he wants you. “so he doesn’t bring anyone over? it’s just the two of you?”

your narrow your eyes at him. “just ask what you want to ask.”

“are you guys together?”

there it is. you were expecting it this time, and it still makes your stomach flip.

“no. i mean, kind of? we’re not like, dating. we’re just…uh…hooking up.” you’re trying so hard to figure out how to put it that it sounds horrible.

he just laughs. “no you’re not. that kid is in love with you.”

your jaw drops slightly in surprise, and this only makes chris chuckle harder.

“what the fuck are you talking about?” you ask him once he finally calms down.

“i’ve seen how he’s acting lately. so fucking goofy, like he’s got his head in the clouds. he only ever gets all dopey like that when he really likes someone, and i kind of suspected it was you.”

it’s hard to find any words. there’s simply nothing on your brain, no coherent thought to be found. chris gives you a playful nudge.

“it’s okay, i won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to. but i think you feel the same.” he makes a guess, and he’s very accurate.

you look away as you take your final hit, trying to decide how you want to respond. you exhale the smoke and pass the remainder of the joint back to him.

“okay, you got me. i do want it to be like, a real relationship. and i’ll talk to him about it soon, i promise. just please don’t tell anyone until i do.” you plead.

he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a side hug. you relax into him, and you have to admit you’re a bit relieved that at least somebody knows now.

“of course not. i’m here to support you both whenever you’re ready. everyone else will be too.”

“thank you. that makes me feel a lot better, seriously.” you say truthfully as he pulls away.

“good.” he nods in satisfaction, giving you a loopy grin.

“i’ve mooched enough, so i’m gonna go back inside, but thanks again. i owe you a blunt for the reality check.” you point a finger at him as you back up off of the grass.

“i’ll never turn that down.”

the high has taken over as you spin around to walk normally, and it’s nearly impossible to stop smiling. having confirmation that you’re not crazy for feeling the way that you do is wonderful.

you head back inside the house, almost positive that you’d find matt hanging out somewhere with your friends.

but as you pass the kitchen again, you spot him in the same place, leaned up against the end of the counter with a solo cup in hand. it seems like the girl is even closer than she was before.

your face falls immediately. it makes you angry that it’s been so long and he still hasn’t told her to get lost yet. if he wants to be all possessive over you, then you shouldn’t have to act so cool for him.

you’re certainly not feeling collected right now. and he deserves to know that.

you wedge your way around the people chatting and pouring themselves drinks without a second thought. matt sees you coming before you actually reach him, and he looks confused by your irritated expression.

you wrap your fingers around his arm wordlessly, right in the middle of the nameless girl’s sentence. he doesn’t put up a fight. in fact, he’s practically hot on your heels as you pull him back toward the hall.

“uh—hey! we were talking bitch!” she shouts after you.

“don’t care.” you don’t even give her the satisfaction of making eye contact.

there’s really no point. matt is trailing behind you like a puppy, and that’s all that matters. he clearly doesn’t want to be there any more than you want him to.

“what’s going on?” he asks as you maneuver around the outside of the crowded living room, making a beeline for the staircase.

it’s taped off to everyone except your group, in case of emergency.

this feels like one, considering you don’t even care if anyone sees you together. you don’t respond, you just let go of his hand and step over the thin barrier, glancing behind you to see if he’ll follow.

there’s a curious look in his eye, but he does the same.

you continue up the stairs, making sure he has the perfect view of your ass as you go. you can literally feel him staring, which only stokes the fire.

“are you taunting me right now?” matt asks as you reach the second floor.

this makes you pause, and you turn around so you can wrap your hand in his shirt. you yank him into the bathroom, slapping the light switch on with your free hand.

you close the door behind you, which suppresses the booming sound of nathan’s music playing through the speakers.

“what the hell is this?” you uncurl your fist and shove his chest to put some space between you.

his eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he regains his balance and sets his cup down on the counter. you realize you probably spilled some of it by dragging him around, but that’s not your main focus right now.

“what do you mean?”

“don’t you dare play dumb. you can’t stand it when anyone else even breathes near me, so why would you think that i would be okay watching you flirt with some random girl for fifteen minutes? you either want me or you fucking don’t, matt.” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively.

it’s shocking that you’re being this honest with him, but you’re faded and you’ve been pushed beyond your limit.

no use tip-toeing around it now.

“you think just because she came up to me that somehow means i don’t want you?” he asks, and there’s more of an edge to his tone now.

“how am i supposed to know? we haven’t talked about it, whatever this is.” you wave your hand back and forth between the two of you.

a look of understanding passes over his face. “oh, this is about labels, huh?”

this infuriates you more, because that’s not even the point you’re trying to make. he’s aggravatingly calm right now, like he’s so sure of himself.

“look, if you don’t want to be in a real relationship with me, then fine. i don’t care. but i’m not gonna keep exclusively sleeping with just you if that’s the case.”

matt is silent for a moment, eyes darting across your face. you can see him gazing at your lips, and it drives you crazy.

he takes one step forward, staring you down with those pretty blue eyes. even though your height different is relatively small, it still feels like he’s towering above you.

“are you really trying to tell me you wouldn’t care at all if i wanted to see other people?” he asks quietly.

his face is so close, and you breathe in his familiar smoky cologne. it’s dizzying, being this overwhelmingly attracted to someone.

“of course i’d be upset, but there’s not much i can do about it if you don’t feel the same.” your voice is hushed now too, and you wish you didn’t sound so weak.

matt cups your chin gently with one hand, forcing you to keep your focus on him. your heart is slamming against your ribcage now, begging for some kind of relief.

“i want to be with you so bad that it kills me.” he finally admits.

it’s your turn to be stunned, and you stay completely still as his thumb grazes over your bottom lip slowly.

“i had this whole thing planned, i was going to take you to a fancy little restaurant and ask you out like a gentleman. but you just couldn’t wait, could you?” his voice is husky, pupils blown out in lust.

“i…really?” you ask breathlessly.

“really. so what do you think? you wanna be mine?” he goads with a smirk, gripping your face a bit tighter.

it’s normally hard to swallow your pride, especially with matt, but you’re so vulnerable in this moment you can’t tell him anything besides the truth.

“i do.”

“good, because you already are.” he growls before closing the gap between you, lips crashing against yours.

he tastes sweet, like the soda he’s been mixing with vodka all night. it’s a pleasant mess of teeth and tongue as you deepen the kiss, passionate in a way that you’ve never experienced with him before.

his hands travel down to grab at your hips, pressing against you so your lower back bumps against the sink. you tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling enough to elicit a groan.

it vibrates against your mouth, and you feel yourself throb just from that little noise alone. he’s normally not very vocal, but you bring it out of him.

matt’s hands slide up your body, finding their way under the hem of your sheer lace top. his cold rings press against your stomach as he slowly inches higher, leaving goosebumps in their wake. you let go of him, throwing your hands upwards so he can peel the shirt over your head.

“so fucking pretty, just for me.” matt praises as he tucks your hair behind your ear, attaching his lips to your neck seconds later.

you tilt your head back to give him a better angle, sighing in pleasure as he nips at the soft skin. one hand is feeling up your chest as his teeth dig into your collar, tongue sliding over the marks he’s leaving in an attempt to soothe the irritated areas.

you move your own fingers down between both of your bodies, ghosting them over the crotch of his jeans, palming him just a bit. his dick is already straining against your hand, and he hisses a string of curses into your shoulder.

“no more teasing tonight, i need you now.” he grumbles, already out of breath as his hands travel to undo the button of your pants.

you take the lead and slide them down yourself, tearing your thin panties off with them because you want him just as much. it doesn’t seem fair that you’re the only one exposed, so you tug his muscle tee upwards in desperation.

matt doesn’t protest, he just tosses it to the floor with the rest of your discarded clothes. you let your fingers rake over his skin, down his abdomen and over his happy trail until your fingers meet the waistline of his jeans.

you glance up at him through your lashes as you unbuckle his belt, entirely naked now, and he swears he could finish just by looking at you.

the sensation of your hands skimming against his thighs as you drag his jeans and boxers to his ankles makes him twitch. nobody has ever turned him on the way you do, and it’s frightening how good you make him feel.

but you always enjoy everything just as much, because he’s the best dick you’ve ever had. perfect length, enough girth to stretch you out, and he knows exactly how to move to your liking. matt even keeps it trimmed nicely.

the tip glistens with precum, and you pull your hair back with one hand like you’re getting ready to put it in your mouth.

“no, stand back up baby.” he instructs, and the commanding note in his voice makes you push yourself off your knees, extending to your full height.

matt turns you around so you’re facing the mirror, one hand on your side and the other on your back as he forces you to bend at the waist. your forearms press flat against the cool marble counter, and the assertiveness of it all sends a jolt of excitement right to your core.

his palm comes down on the curve of your ass without warning, just hard enough to sting. you let out a whimper, arching your back more as you gaze at him through the reflection.

he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, smoothing his hand over the place he just hit. his eyes are so dark, so full of desire that it just solidifies the way you feel about him.

“you like that? you want me to be rough?” matt leans over you, cock pressed against you as he speaks into your ear.

“please.” you whine, shifting your hips to try and feel more of him, to feel anything.

he stops your movements immediately and smacks your ass again, this time on the opposite side. it makes you groan in delight, almost involuntarily.

“you’re gonna look at yourself while i fuck you, got it princess?” he says, backing up just a bit so he can take his dick into his own hand and pump a few times.

you nod as you feel him line himself up at your entrance, and you know that at this angle you’re perfectly on display for him.

he pushes himself inside of you in one fluid motion, and you gasp as his fingers squeeze your hip. matt doesn’t give you time to adjust to him like normal. instead he immediately starts to pick up speed, wrapping your hair in his free hand so you can’t look anywhere else besides in front of you.

your lips are parted as you moan, eyes fluttering at the stimulation. you can hear matt grunting behind you, a deliciously dirty sound.

“look at how pretty you are, taking me so well. all fucking mine.” he marvels, rocking your body against him even harder.

skin slaps together, and his pace is making your legs tremble. you can feel the party raging on underneath you, and it’s strangely even hotter in this setting.

“shit, you fill me up so good matt.” you tell him, catching his eyes for a second before he throws his head back.

“fuck.”

he’s hitting it so well, and you can feel yourself tightening around him with every stroke. it’s turning him into an even bigger mess.

“god, if you keep that up i’m not gonna last much longer.” he warns, bucking his hips into you at a slightly different angle.

you cry out at the new sensation, a guttural noise that you didn’t even know you could make.

“i’m so close, right there babe.”

matt listens perfectly, using the hand on your waist to guide you so that you bounce against his thighs in the same spot. you’re a whining mess, and you can’t keep looking in the mirror.

you feel the tears as your eyes screw shut. the fire in your stomach is growing, spreading throughout your whole body. he tugs your roots a little bit more.

“come all over my dick, pretty girl. it’s all yours.”

his words are what send you over the edge, and your body shudders as you feel yourself giving in to the high, releasing all over him.

“fuck, matt, stay inside.” you pant, and he groans loudly.

two more sloppy strokes and you feel him tense, filling you up as he finishes. matt lets go of your hair, dragging his fingers along your shoulders, you back. you look so fucked out, makeup smudged slightly under your eyes, and you both love it.

he pulls out slowly, giving you one last tiny pat on your ass.

you’ve both got stars in your eyes as you stand, and you can feel the wetness pool against your thighs. thank god you’re on birth control. this was a special occasion anyways.

you turn, and matt immediately pulls you in for a kiss. you smile slightly, because you can’t help it.

“come on, i need to get cleaned up.” you pull away slightly.

“fine.” he sighs, but he lets you go regardless.

you wipe yourself off with some toilet paper quickly and flush it while he redresses. you two have been missing for minute now.

you guess it doesn’t really matter. sure, you should probably be discrete about having sex around your friends. but you’re also together. officially.

“so, does this mean i can tell the other girls in your dms to fuck off?” you joke as you put your underwear back on, shimmying into your jeans next.

“you can honestly tell them whatever you want.” matt runs a hand through his hair, smiling at you like a fucking goofball.

you’re just situating your shirt into place when the door comes swinging open, revealing a very drunk nathan. you and matt freeze, completely unsure what to do.

his eyes go wide as he realizes what’s going on, mouth hanging open like he can’t believe it.

“woah. no fucking way”

#matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #fanfic #roommate au #smut