#WOW THANKS FOR THE SUPERNATURAL FEELS

[amanitacurses]

[zapreportsblog]

I'd love to request Emmtt with a mute mate, when she's changed he gets to hear her voice for the first time. She lost her voice in an accident just before she met him. Please and thank you!

Wow this is really creative, hope you enjoy it :)

↳ finding my voice ↲

➘ summary : Emmett’s mate lost her voice a while back but now as a newborn vampire will she find it once more

➘ a/n : you can not tell me this man doesn’t look crazy, like sir it’s giving yandere emmett

➘ emmett cullen x reader , twilight x reader

In the heart of the lush forests of Forks, the Cullen family existed as a unique coven of vampires who sought to lead a life far removed from their bloodthirsty nature. Among them was Emmett Cullen, known for his boisterous laughter and zest for life. He was a beacon of energy and strength within the family, his larger-than-life personality a stark contrast to his supernatural abilities.

However, it was a quiet and unassuming presence that would forever change the course of Emmett's existence. (Y/N), a human woman with an unbreakable spirit, had captured his heart in ways he never thought possible.

(Y/N) had been through more than most in her short life. A childhood accident had stolen her ability to speak, rendering her voiceless. Yet, her vibrant eyes spoke volumes, and the grace with which she moved resonated with the essence of her character.

It was during a chance encounter in the small town of Forks that Emmett first saw (Y/N). She was sitting on a park bench, reading a book, her fingers delicately tracing the words as if to hold onto every sentence. Intrigued by her quiet demeanor, Emmett approached, and as their eyes met, a connection sparked between them that transcended words.

(Y/N)'s accident had robbed her of her voice, but it hadn't taken away her ability to communicate. With the delicate yet deliberate movements of her hands, she wove intricate patterns in the air - a language known only to those who understood the power of silence. Emmett, captivated by this unique form of communication, found himself drawn into a world where words were unnecessary.

As days turned into weeks, Emmett and (Y/N)'s bond deepened. Their connection was formed through the silent exchange of signs, each movement carrying a weight of emotion that words could never convey. (Y/N) showed Emmett the beauty of patience and understanding, while Emmett brought laughter and adventure into her life.

The Cullen family embraced (Y/N) as one of their own, her presence bringing a sense of tranquility to their immortal existence. Alice, with her visions, often foresaw moments of joy between Emmett and (Y/N), and Jasper, with his empathy, felt the genuine love that radiated between them. Even Rosalie, known for her guarded nature, found herself warming to (Y/N)'s genuine spirit.

As their relationship flourished, the Cullens marveled at the profound connection Emmett and (Y/N) shared. They watched as the two of them communicated through touch, through shared glances, and through the intimate dance of their fingers in the air. The family respected and cherished this unique bond that transcended the limitations of speech.

And so, in the heart of the Cullen family's haven, an unconventional love story was written. Emmett and (Y/N) proved that words were not the only means of conveying love, and that sometimes, the most profound connections were formed through silence - through the quiet whispers of the heart.

Within the tranquil embrace of the Cullen family home, Emmett and (Y/N)'s bond continued to flourish. Their love story unfolded through gestures and expressions that spoke to the depth of their connection.

Emmett's boisterous laughter and playful antics were matched by (Y/N)'s radiant smiles and the light that danced within her eyes. He would often invent wild stories, acting them out with exaggerated gestures that made (Y/N) giggle in response. In return, (Y/N) would share her thoughts and feelings through a symphony of delicate hand movements, her eloquence in sign language surpassing the limitations of spoken words.

The Cullen family marveled at the harmony that Emmett and (Y/N) brought to their midst. Esme, the nurturing matriarch, had a soft spot for their unique relationship, seeing the purity of their connection as a testament to the power of love itself. Carlisle, the patriarch, respected the understanding they shared, acknowledging that true communication extended far beyond verbal expression.

Alice's visions of their future were painted with joy and warmth, while Jasper felt the serenity that emanated from their union, a tranquility that often eluded even the most harmonious of couples. Even Edward, with his mind-reading abilities, could not grasp the full depth of their emotions, for their love existed in a realm untouched by words.

As time went on, (Y/N) became an integral part of the Cullen family, her presence weaving seamlessly into their immortal lives. She brought a sense of serenity that balanced the frenetic energy of her vampire companions. The family gathered around as Emmett and (Y/N) recounted their adventures with animated gestures and subtle touches, their joy infectious and genuine.

But as with any love story, challenges arose that put their bond to the test. A threat from the outside world loomed, casting shadows over their peaceful existence. The Cullens' sanctuary faced danger, and the unity they had fostered was put in jeopardy.

Emmett's protective nature flared, a fierce determination in his eyes as he vowed to shield (Y/N) from harm. And through the intricate language of signs, she assured him that she was by his side, ready to face whatever challenges came their way.

As the Cullen family rallied together to protect their home, Emmett and (Y/N)'s silent communication proved to be an asset, allowing them to strategize and coordinate with a precision that transcended spoken words. The battles they fought were not only physical but also emotional, as they navigated the turmoil while leaning on the strength of their connection.

And so, as twilight bathed the tranquil forest in shades of gold, the Cullen family and their unique couple stood together, united against the storm that raged both within and around them. The echoes of emotion that passed between Emmett and (Y/N) resonated with a love that needed no spoken words to be understood. As they faced the trials ahead, their silent bond remained unbreakable, a testament to the enduring power of love and the strength found in shared silence.

As the threat to the Cullen family grew, so did Emmett's determination to protect (Y/N). He had witnessed firsthand the dangers that lurked in their supernatural world, and the thought of leaving her vulnerable and alone, especially considering her inability to call for help, was something he couldn't bear. He knew he couldn't protect her indefinitely as a human, and a sense of urgency pushed him to consider an unconventional solution.

One evening, as twilight painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, Emmett led (Y/N) to a quiet corner of the Cullen family home. He looked into her eyes, his expression serious yet filled with concern. Using the fluid language of sign, he conveyed his thoughts to her, his fingers forming each word with care.

"(Y/N), love," he began, his hands moving gracefully, "I can't stand the thought of you being in danger. I won't leave you unprotected like Edward did to Bella. I want to keep you safe."

He continued to explain his plan - the idea that (Y/N) could become a vampire, a creature like them, impervious to harm and capable of defending herself. His eyes held a mix of worry and hope, his love for her evident in every gesture he made.

(Y/N)'s heart swelled with emotion as she listened to Emmett's proposal. The idea of becoming a vampire was both daunting and enticing. She had already embraced the supernatural world through her relationship with Emmett and the Cullens, and the prospect of eternal life by his side seemed like a gift she couldn't refuse.

With a soft smile, she signed her response, her fingers moving in delicate patterns. "I agree. I want to be with you, Emmett, no matter the form."

Emmett's eyes lit up with relief and joy, his heart swelling at her willingness to share eternity with him. He took her hands in his, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. Their silent exchange spoke volumes, a testament to the depth of their bond.

With their decision made, they turned to Carlisle, the family's patriarch and a skilled doctor who had experience in transforming humans into vampires. He led them through the process, explaining the changes that would occur and the challenges they would face.

For (Y/N), the transformation was a journey of physical and emotional trials. She faced pain and power, vulnerability and strength, as her human life faded away and her vampiric existence began. Emmett stood by her side through every step, offering his unwavering support and reassurance, their silent communication speaking louder than words ever could.

As the transformation neared its completion, (Y/N) felt the rush of new senses and abilities course through her, her body adjusting to its immortal form. Her eyes opened to a world painted in vivid colors and heightened details, a realm she had only glimpsed through Emmett's descriptions.

And as the first rays of dawn bathed the room in light, (Y/N) opened her newly enhanced eyes to lock onto Emmett's gaze. In that moment, their silent connection spoke of a love that had transcended the boundaries of time and form, a bond that was now sealed for eternity.

With a tender smile, Emmett extended his hand to her, his fingers inviting her to join him in this new existence. She reached out and took his hand, their fingers intertwining, a silent promise exchanged between them.

And so, as the sun's rays touched their skin, the journey of a new life began - one filled with challenges and triumphs, shared by a couple whose love had conquered the limitations of sound and words. In the embrace of their family and each other, they faced the future with a strength that defied the silence that once defined them.

In the days following (Y/N)'s transformation, a sense of renewal and exhilaration coursed through her veins. She marveled at the new world around her, her senses heightened to levels she had never imagined. The bond between her and Emmett seemed to have deepened, the unspoken connection between them now accompanied by a symphony of shared experiences.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the Cullen family gathered, a hush fell over the room. Emmett and (Y/N) stood at the center, their hands entwined. The air was charged with a palpable energy, a feeling that something extraordinary was about to unfold.

As everyone's eyes turned toward (Y/N), she took a deep breath, feeling a newfound strength coursing through her. And then, to the astonishment of all, she began to speak.

"Thank you," her voice, melodious and clear, filled the room, resonating with an ethereal quality that left everyone speechless. The sound was as enchanting as it was unexpected, a testament to the transformative power of their supernatural world.

Emmett's eyes widened in awe, his grip on her hand tightening as he listened to her speak for the first time. The joy that radiated from him was infectious, his laughter bubbling up like a spring of unrestrained happiness.

The Cullen family exchanged astonished glances, their eyes filled with wonder and amazement. Edward, whose mind-reading abilities were unparalleled, couldn't help but smile as he realized the extent of the change that had occurred within (Y/N). Alice's visions had not foreseen this, a delightful surprise that warmed her heart.

"(Y/N), your voice," Esme's eyes glistened with tears of happiness, her motherly love radiating through the room. "It's beautiful."

Carlisle, who had been studying (Y/N)'s transformation with a scientist's curiosity, stepped forward, his expression one of genuine awe. "It appears that your vocal cords have been restored during the transformation," he mused, a mix of fascination and delight in his voice.

As the room filled with applause and exclamations of joy, (Y/N) felt a sense of liberation she had never known. She shared laughter with Alice, exchanged words of friendship with Jasper, and even engaged in conversation with Edward, her voice a gift that allowed her to fully participate in the world around her.

But it was Emmett's reaction that touched her heart the most. His eyes shone with unbridled pride and love, his arms enveloping her in an embrace that spoke of a connection that had grown even stronger. They shared whispered words of love, their voices now harmonizing in a way that seemed to echo the bond they had always shared.

In that moment, the Cullen family celebrated not only the transformation of (Y/N) into a vampire but also the rebirth of her voice. Her words became a melody that resonated through the hearts of all who heard, a reminder of the remarkable journey that had brought her into their supernatural world.

And as the stars painted the night sky with their brilliance, the Cullen family reveled in the beauty of (Y/N)'s newfound voice, a testament to the enduring power of love and the extraordinary transformations that were possible within their extraordinary world.

[cosmerelists]

Stormlight Characters Switch Roles for a Day

As request by anon. :) [Some spoilers for Stormlight! Includes some roles people only have in later books]

It's important to me for you all to know that these combos were generated by a random number generator. Here is how fate (=random number generator) has decreed that Stormlight characters will be swapped around! How will they do in their new job?

1. Renarin takes on Jasnah's role as Queen of Alethkar

Renarin: [smiling beatifically] Rlain: You're stressed out of your mind, aren't you? Renarin (calmly): I am about to vibrate out of my skin, yeah. Rlain: Does it help that we already have three preemptive surrenders from nations who "don't want to risk angering the all-seeing prophetic god-king of Alethkar"? Renarin: What?! Rlain: Just kidding. Rlain: ...There's only been one surrender so far. Renarin: ... Renarin: I didn't even SAY anything!

2. Navani takes on Kaladin's role as leader of Bridge 4

Navani (Hour 1): I'm not a commander, of course. I'll stay out of the way and allow Teft and the other lieutenants to handle things. Navani (Hour 4): I'm not a commander, of course, but I have suggested a few small improvements. If Teft and the other lieutenants can make them work, then that's great. Navani (Hour 8): With the help of Teft and the other lieutenants, we have created nineteen new devices that have improved the efficiency of Bridge 4 by 35%. I'm so glad I can support them in some small way. Navani (Hour 12): Wait a second...I'm actually amazing at this.

3. Shallan takes on Adolin's role as duelist

Jakamov stands in the dueling ring, frozen. The 7 Shallans surround him, taunting him. One of them seems to know all of his secrets. One of them wears the face of an old girlfriend whom he ghosted. One of them has his mother's frown--only her frown. All of them have swords. All of them are watching him. Shallan (actually up in the stands): I'm so great at this, actually. Adolin: Shallan...he's crying.

4. Dalinar takes on Shallan's role as Ghostblood spy

Dalinar tramps into a seedy bar. Everyone takes one look at him and immediately they all file out. He is alone. Dalinar: ... Dalinar: And I wore a fake mustache and everything.

5. Teft takes on Dalinar's role as leader of Urithiru

Teft: Kal...congratulations on becoming the leader of Urithiru. Kaladin: I'M PRETTY SURE THAT'S NOT HOW THIS WORKS

6. Szeth takes on Navani's role as artefabrian

Navani: Well...you've certainly been...busy. Szeth: I am physically incapable of not giving a role my all. Navani: So... Navani: ... Navani: They're all complicated instruments of horrible death, huh? Szeth: I like the one with the spring.

7. Sadeas takes on Szeth's role as the Assassin in White

Sadeas: Ialai...can you have your assassins kill all these men? Ialai: Already sent 'em out. Sadeas: I love you! Sadeas: Wow...this job was so easy and not emotionally taxing in the slightest.

8. Leshwi takes on Sadeas' role as betrayer of Dalinar

Leshwi: I feel like........I'm just going to fly down and stab him. Leshwi: Well, after I introduce myself of course. Leshwi: And allow him to summon his sword for an honorable duel. Lezian: You suck at betrayal. Leshwi: ...Thank you?

9. Rlain takes on Wit's role as the King's/Queen's Wit

Rlain: I see that you have chosen to wear yellow to this feast. Rlain: It was a good choice. It looks nice on you. Wit: I want to cry. Rlain: What? I said it to Amusement.

10. Wit takes on Rock's role as Bridge 4's cook

Wit: As a vegetarian whose morals are supernaturally enforced...I'm gonna introduce you all to a little something I call "Tofu." Rock: YOU'RE FIRED

11. Jasnah takes on Teft's role as Kaladin's lieutenant

Jasnah (holding an enormous notebook): I have some suggestions...Captain. Kaladin: M-My life is flashing before my eyes!

12. Adolin takes on Lirin's role as ultra-pacifist doctor

Adolin: Okay, but...dueling is pacifist, right? No one dies. Lirin: Play-violence is still violence! People get injured and it's so horrible and pointless! Adolin: What about fighting but, like, noble fighting? Lirin: D-Do you know what pacifist MEANS? Adolin: But my sword is my best friend! Lirin: ...every day the Almighty tests my patience.

13. Lirin takes on Renarin's role as Prophet of the Everstorm

Lirin: ...and that is how and why I know that something bad is coming, and why I think you need to prepare to save everyone. Dalinar: Wow...you just...said all that. To me. Directly. With details. Lirin: I understand that you may choose to execute me for blasphemy or whatever, but I couldn't sit back and allow people to die for my own comfort. Dalinar: What a mature and straightforward way to handle that!

14. Rock takes on Rlain's roll as "Parshendi" spy

Rock: Here are everyone's secrets! Rlain: I am...impressed. How did you get all this intelligence so quickly? Rock: People LOVE talking to the cook!

15. Kaladin takes on Leshwi's role as leader of shanay-im

Kaladin: So...you guys...can't die? Shanay-im guy: That is correct. Kaladin (tears welling up in his eyes): S-So...I can be commander of a squad where...no one ever dies? I-Is this happening? Shanay-im guy: However, we have to kill someone and take over their body to return. Kaladin: GOD FUCKING DAMMIT

[celestialtarot11]

PAC 💙 Your Magical Gifts! 🦋

Hi friends! Today we’ll be looking at something a little different than normal 👀 your magical gifts! What kind of superhuman would you be? I just thought this was something fun to do! Im curious to see what message spirit will have! As always, your love is appreciated 💙🦋 enjoy!

Pile 1: Hi there pile 1! Welcome 💙🦋 I see you have the power of abundance and power! I heard Prowess as soon as I shuffled 😍 so a strong person indeed! But I feel your power comes from your intuition, the trust you have with your soul. I heard soul process, so you have the ability to not only alchemize your soul and heal inner wounds, but also help others. As a result you appear as a mirror, encouraging people around you to start their healing. But I also am hearing with great power comes great responsibility lol, so essentially, your power May intimidate others which doesn’t mean its bad! Others feel small and vulnerable because you see to their soul. Eyes are the window to your soul—so maybe you have prominent eyes, or something is unique about your eyes! Which adds to your glamour and power 🌀 I also see you have the ability to attract new souls seeking deeper connections in this lifetime, I think you know you aren’t meant to do this alone. Your figure would be human like, I don’t necessarily see any supernatural to your figure! But I think some of you like that—blending in more even though you know deep down, thats not all there is to you 💙🌀 You may be have scorpio in your chart or strong mars placement! Or aries too! Love and peace pile 1’s! Please comment reblog and share this post 🥺

Pile 2: Hi pile 2’s! Welcome babes 🦋🐬 I feel like you guys are connected to the air element a lot! So maybe you have a lot of air in your chart. I feel like you guys could be represented by a horse—or maybe that is your spirit guide or animal companion! Or you just feel drawn to horses lol. For you I feel like Mercury is very strong for you, even if you don’t have it in your chart, Mercurys influence is big! You are a smooth talker with your power and charisma, able to charm your way in to anyones pants ;) but on a deeper note, you are able to analyze people on a deep level right away! And no one can hide a thing from you because you will sense it immediately. Razor sharp mind and intuition. I feel like you go with your head a lot more than your heart, and its served you well, because I can see your power lies in speaking your truth and boundaries and communication. “No, this is what I need. Yes I like this. Let’s do this. Or no I need to pull back my energy because this person is being shady.” You will notice things immediately. I feel like your third eye is very active, and you may have visions or “inklings” or “feelings” before things happen. You can see the future as a gift. And I also heard sometimes its hard for you because its a huge responsibility in itself. People try to hide from you but you see it all. Its like you know immediately who to pick apart from the crowd (whether they’re amazing or not!) but you do it for your safety! If you know someone is amazing for you you’ll feel it deep down. But the horse is symbolic for power and strength, and also grace. I feel like you are graceful within your movements and enjoy subtly, although you’re not afraid of a good time! Voice, lips are a prominent feature for you and/or your body! Maybe you go to the gym! But thank you pile 2’s for being here 💙🌀 Please continue to support this blog as its greatly appreciated!

Pile 3: Welcome pile 3’s! 🌀🦋🌀Wow okay you guys have a powerful energy! I heard “ride like lightning crash like thunder,” as I shuffled the cards! I feel like you guys know how to make an entrance and leave 🥰 “hate to see you go, love to see you walk away,” wow! You guys have the presence of a goddess/god! I feel people may want to “bow” down to you, or pay you respect, or be on their good behavior for you. There’s something about people feeling in awe by your presence and actions. And people know not to mess with you. Your energy takes up space and you’re not afraid of that! Your power lies in your presence. I know it may not sound like a lot, but your energy speaks for itself here. I feel that you guys are subtle, move in private, whilst somehow attracting attention! I feel you guys are a mystery to those around you and I’m actually being shown mist. Like fog rolling in. Thats you guys, I feel there is so much I don’t understand yet I’m captivated to go in more. You guys have such strong allure and captivity! Your power lies in your ability to lure in whatever you want! People, connections, money, new timelines, manifestations. I also feel you may have Neptune 1h or moon 12h/1h! And its like im trying to grab the mist and nothing is in my hand, because its vapor. I feel like people really try to figure you out but you are a mystery, and I think thats a power because you may be surrounded by unhealthy people at the moment. And being a mystery is better than being an open book! I feel like you guys are connected to Zeus for some reason, lightning and thunder storms. I love it! You guys are not afraid of bringing in a storm to make people realize what needs healing. Not that you’ll force people no, but rather, you awaken people. Maybe you work with Zeus, or find greek mythology beautiful! Or like thunderstorms lol. You guys are the beauty of the night 🌀💙🦋 Thank you pile 3! Please continue to support this blog always 🥺

Thanks so much everyone! Making this was so much fun actually and I was so excited to hear the messages! Very unique and beautiful 😍🌀💙 Dont forget to stay hydrated and eat well loves! Your kindness is appreciated.

Paid Readings 🐬🦋🌀

[neil-gaiman]

Hello, Mr. Gaiman! I’m sure you get a ton of messages like this, but I still wanted to say thank you for the amazing representation in Good Omens. The show really helped me come to terms with my asexuality. For most of my life I knew I wasn’t straight, but I’d always had trouble with labels as nothing felt quite right. I felt like I didn’t fit in with anyone, and after taking a few poorly constructed internet quizzes I had come to the conclusion that I was asexual. This wasn’t exactly thrilling news for me. Practically all the ace characters I’d been exposed had been portrayed as cold, distant, and emotionless. All that “representation” did was make me feel more like an outsider. Asexuality was usually treated as something unnatural and practically inhuman.

A few weeks ago, I finally watched Good Omens after putting it off for a few years, and wow I really should have watched it sooner. For the first time ever, I saw a love story that I could truly relate to. Here were Crowley and Aziraphale, two asexual supernatural beings who were in love with each other. Seeing that made me feel like I could be asexual and that it could be just as beautiful, romantic, and real as any other relationship. Not only did I (and many other queer people) feel seen, but Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship also touched the heart of my mostly homophobic mother lol. So thank you for all that you do Neil! You’ve quickly become one of my favourite authors! Representation matters.

I'm so glad.

[tj-dragonblade]

[FIC] Past the Wit of Man (or, Bottom's Dream)

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: M Word Count: 3657 Tags: comedy, attempted comedy, comedy devolving into feels, identity reveal, sex worker Hob Gadling, advancing my Men In Lingerie agenda, long-haired Hob Gadling agenda, stretching timelines like taffy, Desire and Dream get along AU, but Desire is not actively in this, Dead Boy Detectives comic spoilers mentioned, miscommunication, Dream of the Endless finally uses his words, happy ending

Notes: Kudos props and huge thanks to everyone in the Mr Sadman discord who creatively interpreted a snippet I posted of something else and launched the whole idea of Hob working for a supernatural escort service; this would not exist without y'all and your beautiful brainstorming. ❤️

This fills the August monthly @dreamlingbingo prompt Identity Reveal, replacing square A2 (creature: Veela) on my bingo card

Summary: Hob is nicely settled in a new career and a new identity and does not expect to see his Stranger until 2089. The universe, apparently, has other ideas.

On AO3

~ "Your client is Dream of the Endless. He is extremely ancient and extremely powerful, an underpinning concept of the universe. Absolutely terrible about loosening up and letting himself relax."

"Don't think I'd be much good at relaxing if I was an underpinning concept of the universe either," Hob jokes, opening the profile that the Agency rep has just airdropped to his phone and thumbing through it.

The rep, a foppish vampire with curly white hair and impeccable fashion sense, arches one elegant eyebrow at him. "Apparently his most recent girlfriend dumped him quite harshly and his sibling has arranged this booking on his behalf; he's—and I am quoting here—'absolutely incompetent at managing his own happiness'."

"He knows he's been booked though, right? I'm not gonna catch the fallout because no one told him what kind of appointment this is?" It's only happened once, a prank played on a shy ace nixie by her well-meaning but ill-informed friends; all the same, Hob does not care to repeat the experience—particularly with someone potentially more dangerous.

"He is very much aware and in agreement, yes. We promised him our top companion." The rep dimples at Hob, a smile of saccharine sincerity that shows only the barest hint of fang. "And that's you, sweet Nick."

"And that's me," Hob agrees matter-of-factly, frowning at his phone, then turning it to show his guest. "No photo?"

The rep glances at the screen and makes a commiserative noise. "Oh, yes. Unfortunate, that. Cameras have a very hard time with this fellow, something to do with his general relationship to reality." His tone takes on a simpering air of great melodrama. "We were forced to use an artist's rendition instead! Tragic, really; it doesn't do him justice."

"Huh," Hob says, turning his phone back and studying the cartoony hand-drawn image. Guy looks like he's got some sort of steampunk insect for a head, dark and bolt-laden and bug-eyed, with a trunk that's strongly reminiscent of a disembodied spine. "Dream of the Endless, you said? Looks more like a bloody nightmare."

The rep gives an exaggerated roll of his shoulders, as if shrugging off his delivery duty now that it's done, and turns to leave. "Well whatever the case, an Endless is far above the average client, darling. Give him your best."

"'Course." Hob grins. "That's why you brought the assignment to me, after all."

"Just so." The Agency rep gives a lazy wave in parting and Hob closes the door, still scrolling through the profile as he makes his way to the kitchen.

"Dozens of titles and names", he murmurs, glancing through the list of them. "King of Dreams and Nightmares, alright. Contains the entire collective unconscious of every living being in. Every…universe…?" He shakes his head. "Has never taken a vacation ever. Bested Lucifer Morningstar and oversaw the reassignment of Hell—okay, wow. Billions of years old." He whistles, a long sound of awed disbelief. "Maybe I throw in a free massage for this guy; sounds like he could use it."

He shakes his head again, pockets his phone, carries on with getting breakfast together.

Bug-headed workaholic foundational concept of the universe. Won't be the weirdest client he's ever serviced.

~

It's been ten years since his stranger showed up late for their meeting and smiled so openly and named him friend. That had been their longest meeting yet, lasting all afternoon and on into the evening and it wasn't until the Inn had started closing up for the night that they wound down. His stranger had spoken briefly of the missed appointment in 1989, making clear that something at least mildly traumatic had kept him away and also that he did not wish to elaborate, and Hob had let it go. There was so much to tell of his own century past, his friend remarking with interest on a great many of his stories, and it was enough. His stranger, his friend, had come back, and they'd had a lovely long meeting. Perhaps in 2089 he would be comfortable sharing more of his own story, but even if not, Hob didn't mind. He was confident once more in the friendship he'd declared back in 1889 and willing to coax it out bit by bit, meeting by meeting. He had all the time in the world, after all.

Within a year of that meeting he'd wrapped up his teaching career, arranged for ownership of the New Inn to transfer to a 'relative' in the States who'd keep it running the next few decades, and started searching for a new career for his next identity.

He stumbled quite by accident into the broader supernatural world after being stalked by two dead teenagers helping that de Rais creep who wanted to steal his immortality. It all turned out fine in the end but opened Hob's eyes to exactly how much the supernatural had integrated into the modern world around him. And once old Hettie clued him in to the existence of a certain Service Agency catering to supernatural clients, his next career path was all but decided. What was he going to do, not seize the opportunity for fantastical sexual exploration when presented with it? Life was for living! Werewolves, vampires, sirens and fae and merfolk, the occasional ghost and even an extra-terrestrial or two; scales, feathers, tentacles, knots—Hob's shown them all a good time and earned a stellar reputation among the Agency's clientele. He doesn't plan to do it forever, but he enjoys exploring new avenues and stretching his limits and 'Nick Bottom' is the perfect persona to let him do so.

And now sweet high-priced in-demand Nick has been booked to rebound-fuck an uptight concept in humanoid form who looks like something straight out of a nightmare.

Hob can't wait to completely take this guy apart one orgasm at a time until he's a boneless puddle of satiation and send him home afterwards a brand new man.

Concept. Entity. Whatever.

~

The booking is scheduled for the following day and when the time comes, Hob is fresh and clean and set up in the Agency's most lavish suite. He's let his hair grow the last few years, sports a proper Hozier-like mane at this point, is wearing it down for this appointment. His beard is several weeks old, trimmed to artfully-scruffy perfection and well-groomed. He's lounging on the bed in a short open silk robe and a pair of lace panties that hug his hips and leave most of both arse cheeks exposed, a popular outfit in his repertoire sure to please the classiest of clients with the most discerning taste. Both pieces are a matching vibrant cobalt blue that complements his skin tone beautifully. He's wondering what fucking a concept is like, idly massaging his dick now and then to keep it primed, when finally there's a peculiar displacement of air and then a figure in dark robes with a weird spine-trunked bug-eyed head is standing in the middle of the suite. He's taller than Hob and inhumanly rail-thin; the robes plunge deep from the neckline, displaying milk-white skin without a hint of chest hair and clavicles that beg to be nibbled on. He's in profile, angled slightly away, and Hob has the distinct sense that this is a deliberate pose meant to make an impression, to instill awe and possibly fear in him.

So Dream of the Endless has a flair for drama, got it.

"Hello," Hob greets in his best breathless-and-sultry tone, rising from the bed to approach his client. He layers in a suitable amount of awe, pitching his voice toward 'smitten' with a subtle ring of sincerity to support it. "Oh, wow. You must be Dream of the Endless; I'm so delighted to get to meet you! I'll be taking care of you today; you can call me Nick."

The guy, the concept, Dream of the Endless, he goes stock-still as Hob speaks, and it's like the air in the room pauses with him. He turns, slowly, until Hob is face to face with his…oh, possibly that's a mask, then; the bug-eyed lenses are somewhat translucent in the light though Hob still can't see beneath them.

"There has been some mistake." The voice is deep and distorted through the helmet-mask, bone-rattling in an almost-pleasant way and, somehow, somewhat…familiar? "I was meant to be meeting with 'Nick Bottom'." The quotes around the name are audible.

"That's me!" Hob says, raking a hand back through his hair and shaking it to settle around his shoulders attractively, flashing his most charming smile. "At your service, love, whatever you need. I'm here to make sure you have a very good time, and—"

"Hob Gadling."

That draws him up short. He's currently Robyn Gadrin for tax-paying purposes in the outside world, but the Agency wouldn't give out his current identity let alone his true name, so how—

Hob's brain is babbling insistently about the note of familiarity in that voice and he finally lights on why as Dream of the Endless reaches up to remove his helmet.

Hob finds himself staring at the slightly-more-than-human-but-still-very-familiar face of his Stranger, his centennial touchstone, his friend.

Everything about his reality tips a little bit sideways, dominoes crashing one after the other in his brain until all that's left is that awful ringing alarm tone that features in emergency broadcast alerts on American telly.

Between them, the silence stretches awkwardly, until finally Hob breaks it, the first thing that comes to his tongue spilling out while his poor brain is still rebooting.

"Six-hundred some-odd bloody years, and this is how I learn your name?!"

~

It is five minutes later. Hob is sitting on the side of the plush bed in his short silk robe and lace panties, clutching a bottled water and seriously considering availing himself of the bar in the next room because his emotions are all over the place. His Stranger—Dream of the Endless, apparently—is seated next to him. His eyes are not the blue that Hob is used to, are fully black with actual stars winking in and out of them; it's gorgeous but uncanny. He's currently not looking at Hob, has got the weird bug-spine helmet gripped tightly in both hands. Which are still so pretty, Hob can't help noticing, his fingers longer and more spindly than normal, splayed wide around the curve of the helm, nails painted black. Or maybe not painted, maybe they just are black.

Pretty, regardless.

Not a helpful thought at this juncture.

It's not like he'd thought his Stranger was actually human, obviously, and okay yes the possibility of meeting up with him via this particular career choice had crossed his mind once or twice, might've featured in a private fantasy or two; but also he'd never seriously imagined it because it felt so entirely implausible that his prim and lofty Stranger would ever engage in something so mundane. So casual.

Apparently, Hob was wrong about that.

He's not sure how to feel about it, either.

The smooth inhumanly-pale chest on display in the plunging vee of those artfully-draped robes is also not helping anything.

His Stranger—Dream— moves slightly, glances at him with those starry eyes, flexes those pretty fingers on the helmet. "I will. Arrange. For another. To take your place, Hob, you need not—"

"Now hold on a minute," Hob interrupts, sudden direction presenting itself for his floundering emotions to flow. "What do you mean, 'arrange for another'? What's wrong with me?"

Dream, his name is Dream of the Endless, Dream looks perplexed. "Our. History—"

"Oh yes, our illustrious storied history wherein we have met all of seven times before now and, may I remind you, you took offense to my suggestion that we might be friends until you'd had time to digest it properly, yes."

"Eight."

"Eight?"

"I visited your dream, before undertaking a daunting journey from my realm to another. We shared wine. You gave a most thoughtful toast."

"I. Okay." He remembers that dream, yes; he remembers the wine that followed him out of it, and now with the knowledge that his Stranger is apparently King of all dreams and nightmares suddenly it all makes brand new sense. But he will process that later. "Eight. Still not a factor in my ability to do my job."

Mostly. It is his Stranger, after all, and it's not like he hasn't ever wanted—

"Sex would be. Awkward," Dream insists, and Hob loses it, never mind he'd half-thought the same thing until a second ago; Dream saying it makes him refute the assertion with everything he's got.

"You dare," he says, setting aside his water.

Dream boggles at him, cosmic eyes wide, mouth slightly parted.

"You. DARE. To disdain my professional services just because we know each other?!"

"Hob— "

"No. No, your booking was very clear that you were to have the very best, and that. Is. Me. So you will not be re-booking with another companion on the grounds that our acquaintance makes it 'awkward'; if you mean to partake of the services you've hired you will partake of them with me."

"My sibling."

"What."

"My sibling hired your services. Did they know—" He's half talking to himself and Hob sighs, forcefully pulling the conversation back on track.

"Yes, right; your sibling booked you and here you are. Did you want to get laid today?"

"You need not be so crude about it."

"Forgive me. Of course. Did you come here hoping to have a sensual skillful sexual experience with a stranger intent on your pleasure with no judgments or expectations placed upon you in return?" He makes a valiant effort to rein in his sarcasm. "Because I can still provide that. Minus the bit where we're not strangers."

Dream looks positively miserable, a sodden wet cat of a man in sex-appeal robes hunched on the edge of the decadently-plush bed, and there is certainly an understandable element of embarrassment to the situation but Dream is taking it so seriously. Hob is not surprised, exactly, but christ—he's more than willing to follow through never mind any feelings he may or may not want to admit to, and Dream is the one who'd agreed to the booking in the first place. You'd think he could handle this hiccup with a little more grace.

"It was my intent to. Do, as you say," Dream says at last, and Hob sighs.

"Is that still what you want, then? I promise I'll take good care of you." He's actually really warming up to the idea, not that he was cold to it to begin with. It's his Stranger after all. He's been willing to say yes for centuries. "They really did book you the best, and I would love to show you how well-earned my reputation is—"

"Hob—" Dream sounds pained, gives an artfully-dramatic shake of his head. "My wants are. Manageable. If no one else is available. I cannot simply engage with you so frivolously—"

Hob leaps up from the bed, stalks a frustrated few steps away and whirls back, spreads his arms. "Am I not appealing to you, Dream of the Endless?" He tosses his head, shakes his hair back, gestures at the blue silk and lace that he knows looks absolutely spectacular on him. "Would you like me to change clothes? I have a dozen more ensembles I'd be happy to put on if you'd rather peel me out of one of those. Would the Prince of Stories prefer roleplay? Golden-age pirate, biker bad boy, Mr. Darcy or Elizabeth, cowboy, librarian, Starfleet officer—I'll dress however you like." He's fired up, he's…it feels like anger but it's more like alarm; he is absolutely not about to let a colleague fuck HIS Stranger if Dream's looking to unwind. Not with all the thoughts he's entertained the last couple centuries, not when Dream is looking so entirely miserable about the whole experience. Hob wiggles his bare toes in the plush carpet, forcing a deep breath; he is jealous and possessive and protective all at once and has no idea how to safely navigate this storm to get Dream what he wants without pissing him off.

"Your…clothing becomes you greatly, Hob." He's sneaking a glance as he says it, like he's not allowed to look but can't help it. "Your clothing is not at issue."

"Then what is?" Hob rakes a hand back through his hair, frustration fizzling, careening toward concern. "If you're truly that put off by me, I'll let it go. But you're here, for sex, which you did say you wanted; this is my job and I'm good at it and you clearly need—" Someone to take care of you, he'd nearly said, and while Dream has been giving him so much leeway in this conversation he thinks that might be one straw too much for this particular camel's back.

Nice to know he appreciates Hob's hairy chest and his dick in blue lace, though.

Dream levels him with a look that almost puts him right back to 1889, and Hob has half a second to start panicking before Dream closes his eyes, draws himself up, sets his bloody weird helmet on the bedside table with a soft leathery clunk. When he opens his eyes again, they are resolute, resigned, the eyes of a man headed for the gallows despite the stars winking hopelessly in their depths.

"I do not wish to be intimate with you. When you view it as simply a job. I. Would like—but not. If it is a transaction. If I am merely a client."

Oh. Oh.

Oh shit, really?

Impossible.

Really?

"You want. You want it to mean something?" Hob is embarassed at how small his voice comes out.

Dream closes his eyes, something like shame written all over his beautiful otherworldly-pale face. "I had thought. At our fifth meeting. That perhaps there was the possibility of. Attraction, between us." He opens his night-sky eyes again, meets Hob's resolutely. "Had we not been interrupted…" He shakes his head. "I pondered the idea until next we met, anticipating the possibility of. Seeing, where we might have come to. But you named what was between us friendship, you named me lonely; I perceived your words as mockery and acted accordingly. I spent the next century with a surplus of time to wander my own thoughts. They turned to you, Hob Gadling, with regularity. As I expressed when last we met, I regret leaving our previous meeting so abruptly, so harshly. Your friendship is of great value to me. I am content to let it remain friendship, in the interest of keeping it. But I am unwilling to engage with you, who named me 'friend', as I would a lover when I have yet to fully bury the wish. That you might have been my lover in truth."

Hob is desperately trying to keep from bluescreening again and while he's focused on that, his mouth runs along without him. "You never even gave me a name, but you wanted us to be lovers?"

"I am. Aware, of how foolish my wishes—"

"No, oh no. Dream. Love." He absolutely cannot let him think that. "All you ever had to do was ask."

Dream looks at him, starry eyes full of misery with the faintest spark of hope underneath, glimmering with unshed tears. "I. Could not—"

"That was then. Water under the bridge. What about now."

Dream shivers, his more-than-human face wary and pleading and resigned all at once and the last of the fight drains out of Hob. He approaches gently, until he is directly in front of Dream on the edge of the bed again; he half straddles Dream's lap with one foot still on the floor and a bare knee sunk on the mattress beside him, threads both hands into Dream's hair behind his lovely ears, tips his pale face up.

"Ask me now. Please."

Dream's hand settles above his bent knee, a gentle, tentative touch; his eyelashes flutter, and the sound that leaves him steals Hob's breath. That hand travels softly around to grip the back of Hob's thigh, slides hesitantly higher, and then it's Hob making the helpless noise as Dream's fingertips card beautifully through his leg hair, run up beneath the short robe. Dream's spindly black-nailed hand caresses up over his exposed arse cheek, squeezes, and all the while Dream's beguiling uncanny eyes are fixed on him, wet and wondering, full of blossoming hope.

"Hob Gadling." His voice is hushed, almost reverent. "I should like to have you, as my lover. If you are amenable." His face is tipped up, so close between Hob's hands, and Hob.

Hob's shaking. He's actually trembling, pent up, a little scared; daring, as he leans down and his hair falls around them both, hoping—

He brushes his lips to Dream's.

He kisses his Stranger, his friend, his touchstone.

And Dream of the Endless, who is all of those things, kisses him back.

It's nothing like he might have imagined, and ten times as wonderful, and over before he realizes he's ended it.

"Do you mean it." His voice is breathless, the words spoken directly against Dream's mouth. It's a stupid question, in light of the entire conversation gone before and the hand still on his arse, but he can't help asking. This entire turn of events is just too good to be true.

"Yes."

But true it is, apparently, and Hob's heart soars.

"Then. Dream of the Endless. My Stranger. My friend." He presses soft kisses to those plush pink lips between each moniker, dizzy that he's allowed. "Let me add another title to the list, darling. Take me to bed; the suite is ours 'til tomorrow. Let me learn how you would have me. Let me show you how I would treat you. And let me, at long last, name you mine."

= Started: 8/21/24 Drafted: 8/27/24 Posted: 8/30/24

If you're looking for a spicier take on this concept, @delta-pavonis has you covered: Dossier 54392 - please, give it a read, it's delicious.

(and here, have a post-script-y epilogue-exchange of sorts that did not quite fit:)

= "You chose to name yourself Nick Bottom?"

"What better name for a callboy to the supernatural than the bloke who got unwittingly embroiled in a fae lovers' spat and ultimately survived the entire encounter unscathed? Feels pretty relevant to me. Empowering, a bit?"

"Nick Bottom was less 'empowered' than simply lucky, perhaps."

"Perhaps. I'll not turn my nose up at good luck, either. But a name like Bottom in this business is also too good a pun to pass up, and I figure old Shaxberd would approve."

"I believe he would, indeed."

"The irony being that fully half of my clients want me to top them, heh."

"I do not wish to speak of your clients while you are in bed with me."

"Got better uses for my mouth, have you?"

"Other sounds I would prefer to hear from it, yes."

"Fair enough. Why don't you tell me what you want, Mr. Sandman, and see if I can make your dreams come true."

"Must you be so cliché?"

"You love my clich—mmph—"

"Stop. Talking."

"Yes love."

(Dream will tell him about commissioning A Midsummer Night's Dream at some other time 💖)

= Nick Bottom's lines from A Midsummer Night's Dream that lent themselves to the title: I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was and also The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream

[winchesterwild78]

Taking Care of Each Other

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader 

Warnings: Dean and his silly walls (yes that’s a warning), Smut!, unprotected sex (cover it up people), aftercare 

A/N: Last anon request for what aftercare would look like between Dean and the reader. I’m using the character, Dean, but this does not follow the Supernatural story at all. No disrespect to anyone, this is a work of fiction. All work is my own. I do not give permission for it to be taken. This was written and edited fast, please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

Dean Winchester, the green eyed man that rolls through town every few months for his job that he can’t tell you about. All he says is it’s “the family business” and his brother, Sam and him took it over when their father died. 

You hadn’t planned on sleeping with him the first time you met him, but one thing led to another and let’s be honest, how could anyone say no to him. He was built like he was carved by the gods and he was a very skilled lover. He took you places in the bed you’d never been and he always made you feel like you were the only woman in his life.

You were sure that wasn’t the case, but it was nice to think you were. Even if it was only for a few days. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” You heard the familiar voice behind you. You turned around and came face to face with Dean Winchester. “Hey, Dean. Good to see you”, you turned to fill the coffee of another customer. 

You felt his eyes on you the whole time you helped customers. You came back to his table to take his order. “Do you want your usual, Dean? Cheeseburger, fries, drink and a slice of cherry pie?” He touched your arm “You know me so well, sweetheart.” You pulled away. “I’ll put your order in, Dean. Sammy not joining you to eat?” 

“No, Sam didn’t come with me on this trip. Is everything okay, you don’t normally pull away from me.” “Yes, I’m just busy, Dean. We all can’t be our own boss.” You didn’t mean to sound snippy, but you were tired of the yoyo relationship with him. 

He sat back and watched you working. He loved watching you work and interact with people. That’s what drew him to you, your sweet personality and your kindness. He often thought about you on his hunts. Dean wanted to tell you about his life and what he did, but he needed to keep you safe.

Dean’s order was ready so you grabbed it from the window and walked it over to him. “Here’s your order, Dean. Let me know if you need anything else.” Dean looked at you “Thank you, Y/N. Um, what time do you get off?” “I get off in about an hour, why?” “Well, I was hoping we could talk.” “Talk?!? Ha! I didn’t know the great Dean Winchester knew how to talk with his clothes on.” 

“Wow, okay. Sorry I asked. I’ll eat and be out of your hair.” Dean looked defeated. You walked away and your heart broke. Why did you talk to him like that? He didn’t deserve it. You walked around the diner helping other customers, but your eyes kept looking over at Dean. He’d barely touched his food. You felt a pang of guilt in your chest.

Once your tables were cleared you walked over to Dean and sat across from him. “Dean, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you. It’s unfair and just mean. If I’m being honest I’m just hurt. I feel like our relationship is just a convenience for you when you’re in town. I don’t know anything about your job, and you keep all these walls up. I care about you. If I’m being completely honest, I’m in love with you.”

Dean’s green eyes looked up at you and he took your hand. “Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry. My life is hard and I just wanted to protect you from it. I care about you too. You’re not just a convenience for me.” 

“Dean, then please trust me enough to tell me about your life. I want to know all about you. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I’d give up everything to be with you. I know you have walls up, but dammit, Dean I’m going to break them down if it’s the last thing I do.” Dean smirked. “I know you will, darlin’. How about after you get off we go back to your place and talk. If you want to.” “Dean, I’d love to.”

About 2 hours later you were pulling into your driveway with Dean behind you in the Impala. Dean climbed out of the car looking sexy as ever. You bit your lip. You shook your head, No! Stop it. You can’t end up in bed with him. You’re here to talk.  

Dean walked up and looked around. “The house looks great, sweetheart.” “Thanks, Dean. I’ve tried to keep it up. I just finished remodeling the inside. Shall we go in?” Dean shook his head yes. 

Once inside your dog, Tilly came bounding up to Dean. She always loved him and was excited to see him. Dean sat on the couch and Tilly jumped up and licked him while wagging her tail. He laughed as she covered him with licks. You loved his laugh. 

“Dean, I’m going to go change. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”  “Okay, Tilly and I will be here waiting.” “You can grab a beer if you want.” Dean nodded and you turned to head towards your room.

Dean stood up and walked around looking around at how things had changed since he was last there. “Looks good, Tilly. She’s been busy.” Tilly wagged her tail at Dean. He opened the fridge and grabbed a beer. As he sat down on the couch, you came back into the living room with an oversized shirt and shorts on. Dean smirked, he realized the shirt you were wearing was one of his. 

“What’s so funny, Winchester?” “Oh nothing, just that shirt was mine.” You looked down and blushed. “Well, I like it. It’s comfortable.” You and Dean stared at each other for a few minutes. You felt yourself leaning in. Tilly jumped up and you cleared your throat. 

“So, Dean, what did you want to talk about?” You asked softly. Dean shifted on the couch and turned towards you. “Sweetheart, I wanted to talk about us. You know my job takes me all over the country. It’s dangerous and has cost me people I love. I’ve tried to keep you out of it to protect you. I wouldn’t survive if something happened to you too. He took a deep breath and let it out. Sammy and I hunt things, monsters and other bad things. All of it is real, ghosts, vampires, werewolves, you name it. We cross the country protecting people and helping families that are in danger.” Dean placed his hand on your face, running his thumb over your cheek. “You mean too much to me. I meant it when I told you that you were the only one I’ve been with since we met. I think about you when I’m gone and can’t wait to see you again.”

“Sammy didn’t come with me this time because I asked him to stay at the bunker. I wanted to come and talk to you. I’m not here on a job.” You sat on the couch staring at Dean trying to take in everything he told you. “So, monsters are real, and you go around the country killing them? You’ve been doing this since you were little? Oh my god Dean. That’s horrible. I’m so sorry you had to grow up like that.” 

“Hey, Y/N, I’m fine. It just made me tougher.” You took your hand and placed it gently on Dean’s face. “It’s still not right. I’m sure your dad did the best he could, but you deserve so much more.” You leaned close, stopping halfway hoping he would move the rest of the way. Dean looked in your eyes and moved towards you. 

He placed a soft kiss on your lips and you kissed him back. Dean’s tongue swiped your lips asking for entrance. You opened your mouth slightly and Dean deepened the kiss. You moaned into his mouth and more when you felt his hands trailing up your body.

Dean loved to touch you and be close to you. After what he told you about his childhood and life, you realized he craved touch because he was so touch starved. It made your heart hurt for him.  

His hands played with the hem of your shirt and you pulled out of the kiss long enough to remove your shirt. Dean bit his lip when he saw you weren’t wearing a bra. “Damn baby, just as beautiful as ever.” 

He pulled you onto his lap and his hands trailed up your body from your hips to your breasts. His calloused hands slowly cupped your breasts and you moaned. Dean took his left thumb and index finger and squeezed your left nipple, while he took your right one in his mouth. He started sucking. Pulling a loud moan from your lips as your head leaned back.

He smirked around your nipple. Dean knew all the spots that drove you wild. You knew how to drive him wild too. 

Feeling the slick pool between your thighs you knew you wanted Dean. Through the thin material of the shorts you had on, you could feel Dean’s hardness through his jeans. You moved your body down into his erection. Causing a growl to come from his lips. “You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.” You looked in his eyes, now dark green with lust. You bit your lip and pulled him in for a deep kiss.Your walls clenched. Between pants you pulled back “Dean, take me to the bedroom, please.” “Are you sure, sweetheart?” “Yes, Dean. I want you.”

Dean picked you up and carried you to the bedroom. He laid you on the bed gently before closing the door with his foot. Dean removed his shoes and shirt, and slid his jeans down looking directly in your eyes. 

He drove you wild when he did that. He knew it too. You groaned and leaned your head back, Dean chuckled. He made his way to the bed and hovered over you, kissing your lips. His lips trailed down your neck, biting your pulse point making you moan. Dean continued kissing down your body until he got to the waistband of your shorts. He looked up at you through his eyelashes.

He was asking for permission to remove them. You nodded yes and he hooked his fingers and pulled them down with your panties. You lifted your hips to help him. Dean threw your clothes to the side and kissed his way up your thigh. He used his hands to gently part your legs. Exposing your dripping wet core to him. 

You could see his hardness through his boxers. You both looked at each other with lust and love in your eyes. Dean slid off his boxers and his hardness sprang free. You huffed out a shaky breath. Dean was the biggest you’d ever had. He filled you and made you feel things you hadn’t before. 

As he climbed between your legs his hand slid up your thigh. He used his right hand to part your folds, feeling your wetness and need. You bucked your hips into his hand and moaned. “Please, Dean.” “Patience sweetheart.” He purred in your ear. 

You felt his fingers dip into your wet pussy and his thumb rub circles on your swollen clit. Dean moved his fingers and thumb faster, helping you chase your much needed release. You moved your hips into his hand. You were close. Faster than you thought you’d get there. “Dean…I’m….close.” Your breath hitched

“I know baby, cum for me. Come on, let it all go.” Dean whispered. With a deep moan you came hard, squeezing his fingers and releasing your juices. Dean pulled out his fingers and leaned up, capturing your lips. “You ready, baby?” Dean asked as he lined himself up to you. You nodded yes. 

Dean pumped himself a few times and placed the tip at your entrance. As he pushed in you both gasped and moaned. It had been far too long since you two had been together. He pushed the rest of the way in bottoming out. Dean stilled himself for a minute, trying to compose himself. 

He didn’t want to cum too fast, but you felt amazing wrapped around him. Dean’s movements were slow and meticulous. He was savoring every second he had you in his arms. His lips found yours as he slowly moved in and out of you. Your hands slid up his back and into his hair. The sound of moans and pants of pleasure filled the room. 

You’d slept with Dean many times before, but this time felt different. Something had shifted between you two once he told you about his life. 

With every touch and kiss you felt Dean’s walls coming down. His eyes filled with so much love and relief. Dean’s head rested in the crook of your neck as he slowly moved in you. His hot breath on your body sent chills down your spine. Your hands traced up and down his back, feeling how his muscles moved. 

Your resolve was wearing down. You didn’t want to fall deeper in love with him, because you didn’t want to be hurt, but you couldn’t help it. In a breathy voice you whispered “I love you, Dean. So much.” Dean stilled and looked in your eyes. He softly kissed your lips and said “I love you too, sweetheart.”

This was the first time he’d ever said it to you. Usually he said he cared about you or you meant a lot to him, but he never said ‘love’. As Dean got closer to his release, he sped up a little. With one final thrust he spilled his hot seed deep inside you. Coating your walls with white ropes of cum. 

He slowly pulled out as he felt himself softening and got up to go to the bathroom. When he returned he brought a warm washcloth to clean you up. Dean cleaned you gently, leaned up and kissed your lips before leaving the room. 

When he returned he had brought you water. Handing you the water, he grabbed the sheet and covered you both up as he crawled in next to you. When you placed the cup down, he held out his arm for you to lay on. 

Dean pulled you close to him and you laid your head on his chest, delicately tracing his tattoo with your finger tips. He kissed the top of your head “I do love you Y/N, so much. I’ve been a fool. I should have told you a long time ago.” You looked up at him “Shh, it’s okay baby, you told me and that’s all that matters.” 

Dean smiled and kissed your lips. “Hey, move in with me. Move in with me and Sammy.” You sat up “What?! You want me to move in with you?” “Yes! That way I don’t have to be away from you. You can have your own room if you want or we can share my room. What do you say?” You looked at Dean’s face so full of love and eagerness, “Yes. Yes, Dean I’ll move in with you.” 

He smiled and captured your lips with his. You laid your head back down on his chest and he pulled you tighter. Being with Dean was always amazing, but afterwards was your favorite part. It’s when Dean’s softer side really showed. He always made sure you were taken care of and felt safe. He loved holding you and would trace patterns on your back. At first you thought it was random movements, then you realized he was actually writing his name with his finger tips. It was the sweetest thing you’d ever experienced. 

Moving in together was a huge step for you too, but you knew you would always take care of each other. 

Tags: @nescaveckdaily  @kr804573 @k-slla @jackles010378 @jawritter

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @roseblue373 @cheynovak @jassackles  @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa @n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78 @smoothdogsgirl

@hobby27 @manicjk @stoneyggirl2 @1-read-the-hobbit-in-1937

[lilacmingi]

THROUGH THICK AND THIN

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works. Ageless blogs and blank blogs risk getting blocked

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x human!fem reader

Word count: 2,280

Note: This is from my first BTS imagines book on Wattpad from 2018. This version is the rewritten 2024 version! ALSO THANK YOU FOR 500 FOLLOWERS!!!! WOW

It was early afternoon and you and your best friend, Jungkook, were at your place sitting on the couch watching a movie together. The film of choice was a vampire movie—one of your favorites. Your eyes were glued to the screen, knowing exactly what was about to happen, as the both of you had seen the movie roughly a hundred times.

Someone (a vampire) was about to jump out at the main character, you both saw it coming. At the same moment the person jumped out in the film, Jungkook grabbed you and shouted loudly causing you to yelp in response.

The force from his sudden and lighthearted attack caused you to fall over onto your back, thankful that you were on the couch.

Jungkook hovered over you with a mischievous grin, giving you no time to react as he pretended to bite your neck by making playful growling sounds and nuzzling his nose against your skin.

"Jungkook stop!" You begged through giggles, the ticklish sensation making it hard to speak.

"I'm a vampire!" He exclaimed, continuing to act silly.

You were laughing so hard you could hardly breathe, making minimal effort to stop him due to all your squirming. After a few attempts, you were finally able to push him away a little. He took that as a sign to stop and propped himself up to gaze down at you, the movie long forgotten.

"What would you do if I was actually a vampire?" He asked, his tone lighthearted.

"Hypothetically?"

"Of course."

You huffed out a light chuckle, amused by his question and always up for a little theoretical discussion about things like that.

"I wouldn't care. Vampires are literally my favorite supernatural creature. Plus, it's you. I know you wouldn't hurt me."

He grinned.

"But vampires aren't real, so I know you're not one."

His smile faltered a bit. "Yeah. They're not, are they?"

"But if they were, I wouldn't be bothered."

His smile returned.

He leaned down and gave you a light kiss on your forehead. Affectionate gestures like that weren't uncommon in your friendship, however, they didn't help your crush on Jungkook. As much as you had wanted to confess your feelings, you were also afraid that you were misinterpreting the gestures. Some people are just very affectionate, though you couldn't really recall anyone you knew that platonically kissed their friends.

"Do you like me or something?" The question was asked teasingly and in a playful manner, but you were hoping to get a serious response.

"What?" He asked, surprise lacing his tone.

"Well, you're always giving me little kisses on my face. Do you like me?" You tried to keep your tone light, playing it off as if you were just teasing him.

His expression changed and his eyes avoided yours. "Well..." He trailed off.

The mood shifted, turning more serious.

"Don't be afraid to be honest with me, Jungkook. We've known each other for three years." You encouraged him.

"Yes." He sighed, his eyes closing as if to avoid seeing your reaction.

"I knew it!"

"Y/n, don't embarrass me about it." He huffed.

"Why should you feel embarrassed? I feel the same way about you."

"You feel the same way?"

"Was it not obvious? I let you give me kisses all the time and cuddle with me. I don't ever push you away or tell you to stop. Could you not take a hint?"

"No?" He said it like a question.

"You big goober." You giggled and delivered a light smack to his shoulder.

"I'm not a goober." He defended through laughter. "I just wasn't sure how you felt. That's all."

Your joint laughter soon faded and the room went completely silent, the atmosphere changing in a matter of seconds. Jungkook stared down at you with his big and innocent-looking doe eyes that never failed to make your heart leap. He gulped nervously.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked.

"You kiss me all the ti-"

"On the lips." He specified.

The beating of your heart sped up at his request, only managing to utter a meek, "Yeah."

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. He kissed you softly, being very gentle and almost hesitant in his actions at first. Only when you reciprocated did he pick up the pace, pressing his lips closer to yours and kissing you harder. What you were experiencing in that moment was nothing like you had ever imagined (and you did imagine it... many times). Raven strands of Jungkook's lengthy hair caressed your forehead as they fell, untucking themselves from behind his heavily pierced ears. The faint ticklish sensation paired with the feeling of his lips moving against your own and his hand that had found its way to your waist was a combination that made your head spin.

Bringing your hands up to his luscious hair, you slid your fingers between the layers of wavy tendrils, playing with his locks. He seemed to like that, as he released a mix between a groan and a sigh against your lips that had butterflies erupting in your stomach. It was after that he began to get rougher. His hands gripped your waist and then one of your thighs, squeezing so hard it almost hurt. The pace of his breathing got heavier and you could've sworn you heard a faint growl from the back of his throat.

He pulled away for only a moment, reattaching his lips to your jawline, his piercing dragging against your skin making your eyelids flutter. He placed hot kisses down the side of your neck where he started nipping at the sensitive skin. His hands went back to squeezing your waist, the inhuman grip making you wince.

As much as you enjoyed the moment, it was now getting to a point where it was no longer enjoyable for you and his intensity was making you nervous.

"J-Jungkook." You didn't mean to stutter, but things were heating up very fast and he didn't seem to realize how uncomfortable you were.

He nipped harshly at your neck, making you release a small squeak of surprise.

"Jungkook!"

As if your voice had broke through an invisible barrier, Jungkook snapped out of his daze and pulled away. He was breathing so heavily his shoulders were heaving up and down. His eyes were wide with fear as if he realized he was about to do something terrible.

He looked scared.

"What was that all about?" You inquired.

"I-I have to go." He scrambled off you and went to grab his keys.

"Jungkook-"

"I need to go right now, Y/n." His voice was firm as he spoke, walking out of your apartment without another word or even an explanation.

You sat there dumbfounded.

The door to your apartment slammed shut and just like that, you were left a confused and flustered mess on the couch.

He was in such a hurry to leave, barely managing to speak without stumbling over his words, it had you worried.

Was it something you did? Did he regret kissing you?

The longer you sat on the couch, stewing in your anxious thoughts, the worse you felt. It got to a point where it became unbearable and you found yourself reaching for your phone.

You

If I did something wrong, I'm sorry

You sighed, leaning your head back on the couch cushions to stare at the ceiling, memorizing the texture while worrisome thoughts flooded your mind once again.

After sitting for an unknown amount of time, you decided to go check on Jungkook in person. He hadn't responded to your text and it was beginning to worry you. If you had somehow done something to make him uncomfortable, you wanted to know and you wanted it taken care of right away. The both of you had been through thick and thin together. Good times and bad times. And if something was bothering either one of you, you talked about it.

The first place you drove to was a nearby park, a place where the both of you liked spending time at, but Jungkook was nowhere to be found. If he needed to clear his head, you assumed he would've been there. The only other place he could possibly be was home.

It didn't take long for you to arrive at his apartment building since he lived nearby. You hastened inside and went straight to his floor.

When you arrived at his front door, you didn't bother knocking. The both of you had been friends for years and neither of you usually knocked when you visited each other.

You stepped inside and saw Jungkook's keys lying on the floor along with the glass dish that usually held them. The bowl looked as if it had been knocked over and a huge piece was broken off of it.

Oh no.

Your first thought was that he was hurt, or maybe someone had broken in. You hoped it was neither.

"Jungkook?" You called out.

"Y/n?" His startled voice came from the kitchen.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He answered frantically.

"The glass dish by your door is broken. I thought you cut yourself."

"No. I'm fine."

You proceeded towards the kitchen, only for him to speak up when he heard you approaching the entryway.

"Don't come in here!"

"Why not?"

"I-uh I lied. I did cut myself. Sorry. I didn't want you to worry about me."

"I can help if you want." You responded, stepping into the kitchen.

"No please don-" Jungkook tried to stop you, but before he could finish his sentence, you were already standing in the doorway.

What you had expected to see was nowhere near the sight you were met with.

Jungkook's beautiful and captivating rich brown eyes were a deep shade of red, his mouth smeared with blood that matched his crimson irises. As if that wasn't jarring enough, you spotted two sharp fangs poking out of his mouth, which hung slightly agape in shock.

"Y/n. Don't freak out."

"You're a..." The sentence went unfinished, as your voice was stuck in your throat. You were too stunned to even utter the word that floated about in your head.

"Please don't be scared."

Jungkook took a step towards you, but you instinctively took one back, your actions making him frown.

Too overwhelmed, you spun around and took off towards the front door, jerking it open and bolting out as fast as you could.

You didn't get very far when your legs slowed and you came to a complete stop in the hallway as your rational thinking finally kicked in. What were you doing?

Jungkook's words from earlier that night replayed in your head.

"What would you do if I was actually a vampire?"

Your expression fell into one of disappointment, your heart sinking. It wasn't just a silly question. He was being serious when he asked you that.

Your words came to the forefront of your mind, hitting you like a knife to the chest.

"I wouldn't care. Vampires are literally my favorite supernatural creature. Plus, it's you. I know you wouldn't hurt me."

Why were you running away? What you said to him earlier was true, though you assumed the question was theoretical. Still, your answer was genuine. And yet, here you are standing in the hallway of his apartment building ready to flee like a scared animal.

Not only that, but it was clear Jungkook didn't want you to see him like that. He tried to stop you from coming into the kitchen and yet, you ignored him. If only you had listened. Then again, you thought he was hurt. You were worried. How were you supposed to know he was only trying to hide his identity from you?

There was no time for overthinking, you had to make things right.

Spinning around on your heel, you hurried back inside Jungkook's apartment.

When you found him, he was leaned over the kitchen counter, sniffling. His head shot up when he heard you enter the room.

"Y/n?" Your name was uttered weakly.

Clearly, he wasn't expecting you to return.

The blood had been cleaned from around his mouth and his appearance had returned to normal.

"I'm sorry." Your apology came out in a pathetically feeble voice, your jaw clenching to stop the tears that threatened to well up in your eyes.

Wasting no time, you ran up and hugged him as tightly as you possibly could. He wrapped his arms around you, relaxing in your hold as a sense of relief washed over him like a soothing wave.

"You asked me what I would think if you were actually a vampire. I answered honestly, though I thought you were just asking silly hypothetical questions. Now I see why you asked it in the first place." You sighed. "I'm really sorry for running away. I was caught off guard and unable to process everything."

"It's okay. That's completely understandable. Besides, I shouldn't have kept it a secret from you."

You pulled back and looked at him, gently wiping his cheeks where he had been crying.

"Hey. Through thick and thin. Remember?"

He nodded.

"So... we confessed to each other earlier. Does that mean I'm dating a vampire?"

Jungkook chuckled. "I suppose it does. As long as you're okay with that."

"Are you kidding? I'm more than okay with it."

He grinned at your response, swiftly sweeping you into his arms.

"What do you say we pick up where we left off earlier?"

"I like the sound of that." You giggled as he attached his lips to yours and carried you off to his room.

Jimin ♱ Yoongi ♱ Taehyung ♱ Namjoon ♱ Hoseok ♱ Jin

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi @weird-bookworm @poppy2007 @parkjennykim @evidive @mxlly143 @lizzymizzy-blogg @minhanbyeol @dinossaurz @laylasbunbunny

[via-l0ve]

Dude I can't beleive I found a spn preferences writing blog that is active..... could I request the Spn boys react to the reader playfully making fun of them (lowkey bullying them) with Gabriel also.

Bullying is a love language. (SPN pref!) 🩷

a/n: i suck at titles bro💀. thank you so much anon! i love supernatural and i’m always happy to get requests! i hope you enjoy this, i bully people i love all the time, i was giggling when i was writing this lol

warnings: swearing, bullying(is that a warning???)

Dean:

BETRAYED

he goes 👁️👄👁️

“what’s for breakfast”

“wHaTs FoR bReAkFaSt?!”

“y/n what the hell was that for.”

“you sounded funny.” 🤷‍♀️

he’s literally betrayed

so sad

“i just wanted breakfast.”

“sorry dean.” you’re laughing

pouts

but he DEFINITELY bullies you back.

he just gets offended if you do it

(he’s a hypocrite🩷)

—

Sam:

“okay so, get this-“ {goes on a rampage about the hunt that could’ve been summed up by a few words}

“wow, sammy. that was just SO interesting. i almost fell asleep but i’m sure glad i didn’t just so i could hear you say the same thing five times.” 🥰

silence

he gives you the bitch face

sam is SARCASTIC and he will clap back

“don’t worry y/n i made it extra long so your tiny mind would be able to understand.”

now it’s your turn to go 👁️👄👁️

“that was so hot.”

LMFAO jkjkjk

unlesssss

sarcastic sam is a hottie and i’m tired of keeping my opinions to myself!!!

he knows you mean well and he makes out with you afterwards <3

—

Castiel:

he gets sad

i feel like it would accidentally slip out

season 6(?) spoilers ahead

yk when they’re hunting down eve and cas can’t use his abilities and dean goes ‘great. without your angel mojo you’re basically just a baby in a trench coat.’ and cas goes

apologize right now.

he dosent get it he’s just a poor little angel

he adapts though and he realizes that it’s a way of showing love

he laughs about it after a bit.

—

Crowley

he is SHOOK

flabbergasted.

he dosent have people talk down to him often so when it happens (from YOU) he is unstable™️

he goes

it’s so funny

he’s such a drama queen omg

he will ROAST you back or give you the silent treatment

crowley gives me cheeto girl vibes idk if that’s good to say

—

Gabriel:

he shots right back at you with this goddamn face

he’s mischievous he knows his roasts.

i feel like it would become an inside joke or a new established way of telling eachother ‘i love you’

“you’re such a dick.”

“mhm. love you too y/n.”

that’s so cute. wtf.

he’d find it funny tho

esp if you bully other people he’s like 🥰🥰

you guys are around other ppl and they hear you guys going

“fuck you y/n.”

“uh-huh. fuck you too.”

and then you kiss

they’re like “…”

it’s okay. he finds it hilarious

[lowkeyrobin]

Jock!reader who's like really nice to everyone and has a crush on Ethan and tries to flirt with him while Ethan is tutoring him and FAILS MISERABLY and Ethan just thinks it the most adorable thing ever ahhhh plss🙏

- ♣️

YES YES YES HELLO ♣️ ANON!!! welcome my third child 🙏🙏🙏🙏 literallt love u sm thank you for this pookie

ETHAN MORGAN ; flirty jock and flustered geek

summary ; jock!reader who has a crush on ethan and fails successfully to flirt with him

warnings ; language, cheesey stuff lol, reader is described as a basketball player but can totally be changed, this also isn't that great tbh

word count ; 1k

masterlist

You rest your letterman jacket on the back of the chair you sit on, being greeted by Ethan. He opens his binder to the homework in the Geometry packet, and you do the same, mentally preparing yourself. You notice his white binder is covered in stickers and some reference to vampires, witches, the supernatural, and beyond. Ethan was kind of your friend, you were more than acquaintances but you didn't talk outside of Geometry and English class.

You were one of the very few nice people on the basketball team, or maybe you were just a decent person and didn't judge people all too quickly. Otherwise, you didn't mind needing the tutoring from Ethan, you appreciated it really, if you failed another test you could be at risk for getting kicked off the team and you might lose the opportunity for a scholarship to college.

"Okay, so, what exactly do you need help with?" The brunette asks, looking up at you as he runs a hand through his hair, looking a little nervous.

"I just don't know how to like, figure out what shape they are like, how Mr. D wants us to, and like how to find the second base or the height" You explain, "Like, I know how I just can't remember the like, equations, I guess. And when I do, I get the math wrong"

He nods, "Okay, so, you know how to find the areas and perimeters well enough, though, right?"

You nod.

As he begins to explain how to solve your problems, you notice his orange t-shirt, accentuating the perfectly placed blush on his cheeks, faint but definitely pink. The way he spoke to dumb it down for you a bit but to not infantilize you made you smile a bit, seeing as he cared about your feelings. You notice him rub the nape of his neck, seemingly anxious or nervous around you, or maybe uncomfortable because he didn't know how to teach, like how Mr. D should be teaching you this and not poor Ethan, wasting his study hall for you.

You were already very, very aware of your crush on Ethan Morgan. He was your every thought, he was in your blood, in your ears, in your eyes, and in your tears. (weezer reference)

But, now was not the time to dilly dally about with high school crushes, these next 35 minutes could potentially determine your entire future. You needed this free ride to college, otherwise you'd turn into another old person working a job that pays minimum wage for maximum effort.

As time lugged on, you couldn't help but not focus on your homework and instead focus on Ethan and his gorgeous face. He looks back up at you after asking a question, seeing you were totally zoned out staring at him.

"Y/n?" He waves a hand in front of your eyes, trying to snap you back to reality. (eminem reference, wow I'm on a roll today)

You blink, "Oh, shit, sorry, uh, what'd you say, pretty boy?"

You couldn't even think about the words spilling out of your mouth until after they already fell. Those words hit Ethan like a falling anvil, his face turning bright red as he tries to shrug it off as you were just surprised and trying to be nice to him.

"Uh, this is the equation, uhm, try solving it"

You awkwardly nod, writing down the equation and putting in the numbers with the respective variables. You solve the equation, ending up with 24 for the height. He looks confused, having got a different answer. He scooches over to you, trying to figure out where you went wrong.

"Y'know, you're like a walking calculator. A cute one though" You shrug, he looks at you with a slightly confused and amused face, "I dunno what that even means, sorry"

He nods, "Oh, okay, you I think multiplied by two instead of dividing"

"Oh, whoops" You pick your pencil back up, fixing your mistake.

"There you go!" Ethan smiles, "It's just little mistakes, you'll build on it" He lightly pats your shoulder.

"Did you know Ancient Romans used to brush their teeth with their urine? And it actually worked?" You randomly ask him, fidgeting with your pencil.

Ethan blinks, slightly confused before he lightly laughs. "I hate you, focus on the Geometry, no stalling"

"Do you hate me or are we about to kiss right now?"

"Dude. Did you get that off Pinterest or something?"

"...Yeah"

He hides a laugh and bites his lip, "Okay so you-"

"Damn, are you Terms and Conditions? Cause I'd love to blindly agree to whatever you say"

Ethan quickly covers his mouth, "Shut up!"

You laugh a bit, "Sorry, sorry. I didn't sleep for shit last night and I'm getting frustrated cause I don't understand this"

"You'll learn!" Ethan smiles, shaking you lightly by the shoulders.

Some time later, the bell is about to ring, dismissing you to lunch.

"Thanks Eth" You lightly smile, "Oh, uh-" You reach into your backpack, pulling out some homemade cookies in a plastic Tupperware, handing them to him. "These are for you. I have to go to lunch in a second" You say, pulling your backpack over your shoulders, carrying your binder and pencil in hand.

"Oh- thank you!" He smiles, watching you stand up. The smile falters a bit due to awkwardness, "Uh- I have lunch next period too-"

"Bye Ethan, see you later! Love you, dude!"

Ethan is left confused and slightly shocked, cheeks a little red.

He knew you had a crush on him, he felt the same way, but he loved seeing you miserably fail to flirt with him. You were no romantic, if anything, a hopeless romantic in your thoughts.

He smiles, looking down at the red-lid Tupperware, seeing soft, chocolate chip cookies inside, his favorite.

"Thanks, Y/n," He whispers with a little smile, then gathers up his binder and books, shoving them in his backpack.

He notices a tingling feeling in his face, feeling a familiar warmth on his face as he thought about the nicknames and dumb pickup lines you'd spilled out of your lips that past half hour. God, would he love to kiss those lips of yours. He sighs, realizing he should definitely let you do that some more before he asks about it at all.

Thankfully, he'd been able to have slipped a note into your binder before you left.

"Hey Y/n! If you need any help tomorrow I'll be in the library. Bring your pickup lines with you, and I might help you not get kicked off the team. -Ethan"

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

She Stays (Part 3)

Summary: Could you please write one where student!reader appears in Supernatural universe taken from normal life and becomes an angel? Pairing Sam/reader?

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Sam x student!/angel!reader

Word Count: 1,800ish

Warnings: language, implied smut

A/N: Wow this is only how many years late? I know it’s been asked for many times for more of She Stays and here it is! Please enjoy this final part!

________

“Ow,” you heard Dean shout from the kitchen. When you came in he was sucking on his finger. “Cut it,” he mumbled, moving to the sink to run it under some water. He hissed as the cold hurt and you yanked his hand away.

“That needs stitches,” you said, Dean letting you twist his hand around. He smiled as he nodded approvingly.

“Yes it does,” he said, your hand reaching out and pulling a fresh towel to wrap it in. “You’re coming up to speed on the medical side of things,” he said. “Sammy’s been a good teacher.”

“I like when Sam teaches me,” you said, pulling him along to grab a first aid kit. “You on the other hand...”

“I’m an asshole who doesn’t give you an inch of slack, right?” asked Dean, putting on his mentor face. “Sam would go too easy on you in fights and target practice. You know it too.”

“I know, Dean,” you said, fiddling through the bag to find a needle and thread. “I don’t feel like I make any progress with you though. Sam tells me I’m doing a good job at least.”

“Kid,” said Dean, grabbing your wrist before you grabbed the supplies you needed. “You’ve come a long way in two months. I might even let you go on a salt and burn by yourself.”

“Really?” you said, eyes lighting up. 

“No, but only because Sam would kill me,” said Dean, chuckling as he moved your hand to the towel. “I know you can stitch and blood doesn’t bother you. Go ahead and try.”

“No, Dean,” you said, jerking your hand back. He frowned and feigned sorrow.

“Guess I’ll just bleed out since, Fledgy wouldn’t help me,” said Dean, holding up his finger.

“I need Cas,” you said, Dean scowling hard as he hoped onto the counter. The hunting stuff, that wasn’t so bad compared to knowing you had these abilities. You were still too scared to use them without Cas close by, afraid of hurting someone. 

“I trust you,” said Dean, holding out his hand. “I’m in worlds of pain here, Kid. Help a guy out.”

“Dean, I don’t want to,” you said, reaching for the medical bag again. “Angel stuff is not your area, remember, it’s Cas’.”

“I’m also bad cop,” said Dean. “Now try or I’ll work you so hard today so you’ll be too tired to go on your first date with Sammy.”

“Thank dad you’re not my soulmate,” you said, Dean chuckling as you grabbed his wrist. “Just don’t move or anything.” Dean stopped playing as he moved the towel back and you saw it still gushing blood. You thought of how big a cut it was, how it was deep and throbbing. You pictured it in your mind and then how it was supposed to be. 

Dean shut his eyes as you let warmth trickle from your fingers and told your grace to heal him. Dean jerked a little but when you pulled back he was good as new.

“I didn’t tell you about the bruise on my knee,” said Dean, shoving his pants up and seeing the black and blue mark missing.

“I wanted it to heal whatever was wrong with you,” you said a little timid. It felt intimate to heal someone, like you were touching their pain for the briefest of moments.

“I won’t tell Cas if you won’t,” said Dean, hopping off the counter. “Now it’s time for your surprise.”

“Please no more push ups today,” you said, Dean chuckling as he pushed on your shoulders.

“You’re going on your first date with your soulmate tonight, kid,” said Dean. “I’m taking you to the mall to go pick out whatever you want to wear. Then I’ll tell you a bunch of horribly embarrassing stuff about Sam you can bring up at dinner if you feel so inclined.”

“You’re such a good big brother,” you said, Dean already moving the two of you towards the garage.

Dean had surprisingly been a good shopping buddy. You picked out a few simple black dresses but Dean had found one with an open back that you fell in love with. You weren’t sure at first how it would look on you but once you were in a pair of heels even you couldn’t help but think you looked hot.

Leaving your room wearing it that night, knowing it was just you and Sam in the bunker, you felt a little silly. You weren’t going out or anything, it was dinner at home. But Sam had asked if you could wear a dress so your first date wasn’t in flannels and ripped jeans and you wouldn’t deny him that request.

“Hi, Y/N,” said Sam, working over the stove. “Could you grab...” he trailed off when he spun around and saw you. You could feel him light up as he lost the ability to speak.

“Plates?” you asked, Sam nodding, his eyes glued to every part of you. “Sam, I’m not that pretty.”

“You’re gorgeous,” said Sam, a little breathy. “You’re always beautiful but...I’ve never seen you dressed up before.”

“Slight improvement over you sweats and tee from that first day,” you said, stepping beside him to reach plates from the cupboard.

“You’re comparing apples and oranges babe,” said Sam, reaching up and grabbing the too high plates for you, an excuse to get you close dawning on you. “I love both those outfits. Anything really. I can almost see your wings in your back like that.”

“Sam,” you said, looking down shyly. “I don’t have my wings yet.”

“Yes you do,” he said, ignoring the cooking and running a hand up to the back of your neck. “They’re just very small right now,” said Sam, his hand moving lower and lower until his long fingers scrapped over the ridge of your shoulder blade.

You giggled as it tickled, the motion pulling something from you that you hadn’t quite felt before. 

“Beautiful snow white,” said Sam. “They’re right there, just under the skin. I can’t wait to see them when you’re full grown.”

“How do you know what they look like if you can’t see them?” you asked, resting your head on Sam’s shoulder. You would stay like this forever, him touching this vulnerable spot you didn’t know you had, making you tingle and smile all over.

“I just know,” said Sam, tilting your head back so he could cup your cheek. “I’m glad we took it slow. Got to be best friends first before trying this.”

“There’s no trying, this is...” you said, letting your angel side take over for a minute. “Cas told me something, about fledglings.”

“You’re very pure creatures,” said Sam. “It’s okay, Y/N. He told me too.”

“Then you know we can’t get frisky or anything like that at all,” you said, backing away from him, seeing the hurt on his face. “Where I came from, it didn’t matter but here...you’ll be stuck with me forever.”

“Spending forever with my soulmate? Yes that does sound awful,” said Sam, taking a step closer wrapping his arms around your waist. “I’m not scared, Fledgy. I will never pressure you one way or the other. It doesn’t mean I don’t have a preference for how things will turn out between us.”

“I’m not too young?” you asked, Sam unable to fight back a laugh.

“That’s...that’s what you’ve been worried about?” asked Sam with a smile. “I’m barely older. Fledgy, I love you. Nothing, absolutely nothing will ever stop that. Before you ask, I love you for you, not because of this soulmate thing. I’ve felt that perfect at home feeling with you every second I’m with you since the start, before we touched.”

“Can we eat dinner later?” you asked, the burnt smell of chicken filling your nose. “I’d like to do something with you first.”

“Make me yours, Y/N.”

Dean got home after midnight, only slightly buzzed as he found you and Sam eating pizza on the counter in pajamas.

“How’d the date go you two?” asked Dean, stealing a piece of your leftovers. “Going to be a second one?”

“Yup,” you said, Sam eyeing you up and down.

“Yup,” said Sam, a smirk on his face.

“Is this some couple thing or some angel thing?” asked Dean, watching the both of you. “Or did you two do it finally?”

“All of the above,” you said, Sam smacking your arm playfully. “Hey, someday I’m going to be stronger than you ya know.”

“That’ll be fun in bed,” said Sam, winking as Dean looked ready to gag. “Fledgy’s growing up,” said Sam, holding up a single perfect snow white feather. Just like he’d said it be.

“Angel’s getting her wings, huh? All you two had to do was go at it?” asked Dean, genuinely curious about the fledgling rules as they seemed to differ than a normal angel.

“Actually, it kind of...made me more human in certain areas,” you said, wondering if Dean would be angry. “Mating as a fledgling, with a human, it turns off that angel bit that let’s me...live forever. Normal life expectancy for me now.”

“Makes sense,” said Dean, both you and Sam raising an eyebrow. “Why would Chuck make soulmates that don’t get to be together when it’s all said and done? You two must really like each other to do that.”

“He’s okay,” you said, bumping into Sam’s ribs with a smile.

“It’s not so bad having an angel looking out for me,” said Sam, holding onto your feather like it was precious. 

“So you get anything else new while I was out beside some feathers?” Dean asked, silently reaching out to Sam asking to look at the one in his hand. Sam handed it over carefully as Dean inspected it. “Okay, I’ll admit that’s kind of cool.”

“Too bad you can’t see them like Sam,” you said, moving your left wing to tickle his arm, still so small it didn’t jut out past your back, Sam smirking and Dean looking on confused.

“Don’t stay up too late having angel sex, we’re going to work on werewolves tomorrow,” said Dean. “Night Sammy. Fledgy.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a full day a head of you,” said Sam. “Make sure to carve in some time for your boyfriend if you can.”

“I can always make time for him,” you said, brushing your wing up against his arm again, making Sam laugh. 

“Let’s go to bed,” said Sam, hopping off the counter and picking you up.

“I’m not tired though,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I said go to bed, not sleep, Fledgy,” said Sam with a wink. “I got too much energy I need to burn off before I even think about curling up with you all night long.”

__________

[okay-j-hannah]

Part 7: The Summer Filter

Teen Wolf : Multishot

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 11.3k

Warnings: series rewrite, season 1 {aka 2011}, slow burn, friends to lovers, Stiles pining, usual teen wolf levels of violence and gore, heart conditions, talk of scars {good and bad}, character death, CPR, hospitals/surgeries, ANGSTY AS HELL

Request: This just came from my own head 😊  

A/N: I may or may not be sorry for this

Part 6: Orange Cream and Peachy Sugar

Part 7: The Summer Filter {You Are Here}

Part 8: The Favor

It was the night of the dance. You were in your room sliding on sandals with thick black straps; they sparkle as you admire the inky polish on your toes. Standing in front of your long mirror, you inspect the outfit.

Still as starry and beautiful as you remember – little dazzling specks of light against a deep navy sky. The heart-shaped neckline gave your chest shape while revealing your battle scars. You didn’t feel the need to put concealer on the discoloration of them.

This was the real you.

Your hair was pinned up in an elegant bun with a few curled strands framing your face. It might’ve taken you fifteen minutes, but you were finally able to put eyeliner on the way you like. Other than that, your makeup was relatively minimal.

It was time to show your parents and wait for Scott to come pick you up.

Since he wasn’t telling parents that he was banned from the dance, he was free to escort you without suspicion. Once at the dance, you’d have to find other friends to mingle with.

“Oh, sweetheart,” your dad says at the bottom of the stairs, “You look amazing.” He looks proud as your mom appears with a camera.

She snaps a picture, “Ah, you are stunning!” she takes another picture of you laughing. “I love everything about the dress.”

Your mom pulls you aside for a posed picture next to the front door before she gives you a hug. One of her hands lingers on your shoulder, her thumb grazing the edge of your 3-inch incision scar.

“You are so beautiful,” she whispers, “And so brave.”

“We’re proud of you, sweetheart,” Tom says next to his wife. “You’re right – a girl needs to go to at least one high school dance in her lifetime.”

You snicker, “Even if I am going with just friends.”

“Remember to take breaks if it feels too overwhelming,” Angela frets, “Get some water and sit down for a few minutes.”

“And you have friends and teachers there that can help you,” Tom adds, “Don’t be all stoic and pretend you’re fine.”

You wave them off as you hear a car pull into the driveway. “Don’t worry, everything will be great.”

You suddenly have an inkling of the fear Stiles must feel with his dad. Your parents don’t know about the target on your back from a bloodthirsty supernatural creature. They don’t know how in danger you actually are. And if anything were to happen, you would feel immense guilt at keeping them in the dark as they fret and worry.

Scott knocks on the door and you open it to reveal him holding three large daisy flowers. “Hello. Oh, wow…” he looks you over, “You look amazing.”

Your cheeks go pink, “Thank you, Scott. I’m loving you in a suit.” You give him a hug and he presents the flowers.

“At least one of these is from Stiles because he’s upset I didn’t give him a chance to contribute,” he laughs, “I know they’re not much, but…”

“I love them. They’re a wonderful surprise.” You take the flowers from him, and your dad takes them quietly while your mom takes a few pictures. “Mom!”

“Just a few pictures for the album,” she says, “I want you to make sure you get more with your friends tonight.”

Scott feels a little tense standing next to you, a gentle hand on your lower back as you smile. “I’ll have her back before two.”

“One,” Tom says, still holding the flowers.

“One,” Scott agrees, “We’ll send you pictures.”

Angela beams, “Perfect, have fun you two!”

The walk to the car was full of tense giggles. Scott holds the door open for you and he clambers into his seat a few moments later.

“Thank you for driving me,” you smile, “I know tonight is going to be a little stressful.”

“I’d rather drive you and make sure you’re safe than just appear on the roof somewhere,” he shrugs, his knuckles pale where they grip the steering wheel. “You are one of the main targets tonight.”

“Don’t remind me,” you say, “Stiles was still bummed when I said he couldn’t drive me.”

“He’ll get over it.”

You smile, “I’m sorry you couldn’t take Allison.”

He’s quiet for a second, “Me too. But she’s not alone either. And it would be harder for me to explain why I wanted to drive with them when I’m not allowed at the school dance.”

“Well, I’m grateful anyways,” you say, “I didn’t realize how nervous I would be.”

“About the Alpha?”

“About the dance,” you laugh, “Is that ridiculous? There’s a psycho werewolf terrorizing us and instead I’m nervous about who I’m going to dance with and how I’ll look compared to everyone else.”

Scott smiles, “Those are the things you should be worried about. And you really do look amazing – I don’t think you have to worry about that one.”

The drive there feels quick with nerves fluttering in your stomach. Your heart rate is elevated, but you focus to keep a handle on it.

Ironically, the front of the school is decorated with stars, just like your dress. Blue and white balloons stand like statues on either side of the front doors while projections and strands of light wind around railings and stairs. You’re dazzled as you watch hordes of students make their way inside.

Scott looks guilty as he says, “I can’t be seen on the grounds.”

“I know,” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt, “I’ll walk the rest of the way. Good luck trying to get in,” you laugh.

Crossing the parking lot was like a never-ending runway. You feel many eyes on you, whispers being said about your scars or your outfit, you weren’t sure. You suddenly wish you brought a purse so at least there’d be something for your hands to hold. Right now they were clenching and unclenching at your sides.

Your heart was starting to beat a little faster as you near the entry table. All these eyes, dozens of people, loud music and strobing lights, and…

“(Y/N)!”

You whip around to see Stiles tripping over the sidewalk curb. He has on a crinkled suit with a black plaid tie. He looks rosy as he straightens himself in front of you, “I, uh… woah.” His eyes are stuck on you – your dress, your chest, your face. His mouth hangs open; he is completely speechless.

You pull him into a hug, “You look handsome in a suit.”

He giggles awkwardly, still choking on words as he looks you up and down. “I – I um… you look…” He looks into your eyes, very warm and sincere when he says, “You look beautiful.”

You try to hide your smile, “See, that’s why we don’t invite boys to go dress shopping. Their reactions are so much better at the dance.”

He shakes his head, acknowledging your rightness, and extending his elbow. “Might I escort you inside?”

“Sure,” you smile, holding onto the crook of his arm.

The inside of the gym was loud and boisterous. Hanging chandeliers and blankets of shimmery star fabric hang from the ceiling. Lights of pink and purple fly around the room, complimenting the live band in the back center.

Your hand tightens around Stiles’ arm, and he stops instantly.

“Too loud?”

You try to take a deep breath, “I just need a second to adjust.”

“Let’s sit down then,” he guides you to one of the round tables and pulls a chair out for you. “I’ll get you a drink,” he says as he tucks you in.

You smile your thanks, trying to relax enough to breathe steadily. You take the time to look for friends around the room. It didn’t take long to find Jackson huddled with Danny and other lacrosse players. He was pouring something clear from a glass bottle into the punch cups. You roll your eyes – well he was coping in his own unique way.

You continue to people watch, seeing your classmates and the dates they came with. Behind you is Scott hiding next to the bleachers. You pinpoint where Coach is and decide that there’s enough distance between the two.

Allison comes sulkily to your table, sitting down and groaning, “I told you I had a feeling Jackson would be a shit date.”

“He’s not in the mood, is he?” you grimace, watching him across the gym drinking straight from the glass bottle. “We could report him.”

“Let him be stupid,” she sighs, leaning back in the folding chair, “He’ll regret it enough in the morning.”

You grab her hand and squeeze, “Did you see that Scott is here?”

Her eyes light up, “I saw him sneaking in through the roof.”

“A flair for the dramatic,” you huff, “I bet you anything he’ll try to dance with you even with Finstock watching.”

“If not, we can just dance together,” she laughs, “As long as I get to lead.”

You hold up your hands, “Whatever you say.” You nod your head across the gym, “Did you see Lydia and Ben?”

Lydia was aggressively dancing with Ben Manley, the pair of them treating the school dance like a nightclub. Allison shakes her head, “She’s trying to get over Jackson.”

“She can’t hide that she’s hurt forever,” you say, “Jackson isn’t going to care that she’s grinding on some other guy at a dance.”

“We’ll be there for her when she needs it.”

Stiles reappears with two cups of punch, “Oh, hi Allison. You look nice.” He hands you a cup.

“Are you sure these aren’t spiked?” you say comically, “Jackson has been passing around the bottle.”

“Of course he has,” Stiles grumbles, “You okay, Allison?”

“We’re waiting for Scott to make his move,” she says. But a loud commotion in the crowd has caught your attention, “Or maybe he is right now?”

You hear Coach yelling a few things in the center of the crowd that you can’t make out. The audience and band go quiet for a second as he yells for everyone to keep dancing. The band picks up with a soft slow dance song and Scott appears a little out of breath but smiling from ear to ear.

“How did you manage that?” you ask.

He only has eyes for Allison as she says, “Yes, I would love to dance with you.”

Scott looks like a lovestruck puppy as Allison drags him onto the dance floor. You smile after them, happy that they’re reconciling. You don’t even notice how long Stiles has been looking at you until he asks:

“How’s your heart?”

“Still a little elevated,” you sigh, “But nothing I can’t handle.”

He nods, looking afraid and hopeful when he asks, “Do you wanna dance?”

You turn to him with warm eyes. You are completely endeared by him again. “Sure.”

His smile comes on quick and fast, standing and letting his chair topple to the ground. You accept his outstretched hand, laughing, and follow him to the dance floor. It was full of couples slowly dancing with their arms wrapped around each other.

The quieter music and lack of raving students was easier on your nerves. Stiles was timid in how he puts his hands on your waist, waiting for you to make the deciding move.

When you wrap your arms around his shoulders and force him to stoop so you can reach, he finally sinks into you. His head rests beside yours, pulling you close by the waist and swaying to match the rhythm.

You have to tilt your head up so you weren’t smothered into his shoulder. “This is better.”

His fingers twitch on your sides, “Slow dancing?”

“It’s less chaotic,” you agree, “It feels… safer. For my heart.”

He leans his head into yours, “I’m glad you still came, (Y/N).”

“Me too.” You put a hand up his neck, grazing the edge of his hairline, “Let’s just forget all the werewolf business tonight.”

“We can until something happens,” he agrees, “I just… I like holding you like this.”

Your brow puckers, face shadowed by pink and purple light. Something warm enters your chest and dribbles to your stomach. “What else?”

Stiles grips your sides, “I like… being this close to you. And smelling that wonderful fruity stuff on you.”

Nervous butterflies were fluttering in your stomach, teasing your lungs with their wingbeats. “You’ve said that before.”

He smiles, “I like you in this dress. I like that your scars are out. I like the fact you came without a date because I get to dance with you like this. And I like knowing you’re smiling right now without me needing to look because I can feel it against my cheek.” He pulls away to see proof of that smile. “I like you, (Y/N). Like a lot.” You giggle and it eggs him on, “Like a lot a lot.”

You smile and shake your head, “I think I’m a little late to the game. Everyone seems to know that but me.”

His expression starts to dip. He wants to hear a similar confession from you. But you don’t have a real answer yet. “You’re not surprised?”

“I think I’ve been in denial,” you say, still swaying to the music but getting lost in the motion. It was making you feel dizzy. The decorations on the gym walls were blurring behind Stiles’ head. “I think I…”

Stiles looks like he’s on the edge of desperation. His cheeks are flushed with oncoming embarrassment, and you can see the hurt behind his eyes. You move a hand to his cheek, feeling the heat there, “I think I feel… faint.” And your head falls to his chest, still conscious but on the verge of passing out.

Stiles holds you tightly to him, still swaying despite your limp legs, “I’ve got you.” He holds you up by the waist, a hand going for your neck to check your pulse. “I got you – I won’t let you fall.”

You dance like this for the remainder of the song, you breathing in his sweet woodsy smell and grounding yourself in his hold. He carries you gently, running his free hand in soft patterns along your back and arms. It was incredibly soothing and if your head wasn’t pounding like you were about to faint, you would’ve fallen asleep.

The song ends and you’re still swaying with Stiles. It takes everything in him not to force a word out of you. It was killing him waiting for you to speak.

You were in the throes of dissecting your feelings. How did you feel about Stiles? You remember the sleepover. The blue handprints on the car battery. The fries in the hospital cafeteria. The mac and cheese with the Sheriff. The suit jacket searching the woods. The garden trellis and rocks thrown on the tulips. The peachy light of your room and Ollie asleep between you two. The way he bandaged your shoulder. The panic in his voice from the video store call. The hugs when you cried. The truth about his mother. The gas station candy in the parking lot. The lessons in kissing.

You feel warm all over, blood still trickling to your legs and leaving your head heavy with cotton. You finally push him away, “I need to sit down.”

He’s compliant, “Okay,” guiding you by the hand and waist to the round tables. “Um… I’ll get you something to drink. Do you want to find a place to lie down?”

You put a hand to your temples, shading your eyes, “Let’s try the drink first.”

He swallows hard. His question about if you reciprocate any feelings for him left in the air. It’s eating him alive. But he leaves to navigate the boisterous dancing crowd to find the punch bowl and maybe something for you to snack on.

You’re left in your sticky feelings about Stiles. You had promised yourself no serious relationships. It would hurt less when you inevitably had to leave them. Therefore, there had to be no serious feelings.

But what you felt around Stiles. It was safe and warm and natural. And after the kissing in the jeep? Puzzle pieces were falling into place everywhere.

It was going to be dangerous liking him back. You would have to be honest with him about your prognosis. You would have to tell him why it wouldn’t work. It would cause him more grief than joy.

You pinch the bridge of your nose – would you allow yourself to like Stiles back?

Your phone in your dress pocket dings with a message from Lydia.

“I can’t find Jackson.”

You whip your head around to find Ben Manley sulking on the bleachers. Of course Lydia couldn’t let Jackson go. She still cares about him.

“He was crazy drunk last I saw him,” you reply, “He might’ve left to blow off some steam.”

“I’ll check the lacrosse field,” she says.

You feel a tinge of panic, “No, you shouldn’t go out there alone. Come back and we’ll think of something together.”

Lydia doesn’t reply and you feel that panic grow. She was on her way to being the most vulnerable pack member tonight. You stand up and will the shakiness from your drained limbs. Scott and Allison are still dancing, Jackson is missing, and Stiles is swarmed with thirsty students at the refreshments.

You were wasting time trying to get backup. If Lydia had at least one more person with her, she’d be safer.

You are quick to leave the gym and find a path to the lacrosse field. All the stadium lights are on and call to you like lighthouse beacons. You decide sending a text to both Scott and Stiles was the safe course of action.

“Lydia ran off to the field. No time. I’m going to get her.”

The grass was damp and uneven. You were grateful for wearing sandals beneath the long dress. Even more grateful when you notice a limp figure on the ground and another towering over her.

“Lydia?!” you cry, running for the pair in the center of the field.

There was blood painting her pale skin, a horrible contrast in the stadium light. Peter Hale was crouched over her, a trickle of blood running from his lips.

“Ah, (Y/N),” he says with his sinister smile, “I was wondering who would show up. Turns out it was the masterpiece coming to the rescue.” He stands and wipes at his lip, “Now, gauging the relationship between pack members, I do believe you are the more invaluable one.”

He speaks with a calm tone, but the blood on his face and the hunting nature of his eyes was unsettling. Your bare arms erupt in goosebumps, and you watch him take a sniff in your direction.

He grins, “Your fear is delicious.”

“Others are coming,” you squeak, blood pumping in your ears. Your eyes keep flickering to Lydia, searching for her chest moving with air. “A fight will break out.”

“We don’t want that on your special night,” he says in a terrifying coo, “I just need to find Derek.”

Your face scrunches, “And how would we know the answer to that?”

“One of you does,” he smirks, “And I’m going to make sure there is plenty of incentive.” He walks over Lydia and in your direction.

In a split second Peter is swiping at you, sending you flying to the ground in a mass of shimmering blue fabric. A thrill of pain like nothing else explodes in your side and you know his claws are out.

You gasp in pain, too sharp to cry out.

“I can hear the unevenness of your heart,” he growls, fangs lengthening in his mouth, “I can smell the sickly symptoms of death.” He bows to take hold of your neck, the tips of his claws digging into the soft skin there, “Let me speed up the process.”

And he lifts you into the air, his nails sinking further into you. This time you cry out, hitting him pathetically with your arms. He throws you back into the ground and pins you beneath his body. His jaws are inches from your jugular when a frantic voice screams across the field.

“(Y/N)!”

Peter lifts his head and watches as Stiles sprints across the grass like his life depends on it. He slides the last few feet, getting on your level. His hand rises to touch you, but Peter growls at him – protective of his prey.

“Don’t kill her,” Stiles says in a shaky voice. His eyes stay on you, avoiding the gaze of the Alpha. “Please.”

Peter hums, “I might find it in me to spare her; if you tell me how to find Derek.”

Stiles stammers, “What?”

A clawed hand grips into your already damaged side and a sharp cry of pain comes out of you. “Tell me how to find Derek Hale.”

Stiles is losing control of his breathing, digging his fingers into the grass to stop himself from getting killed. “I don’t know that. How would I know that? Leave her alone!”

Peter removes his claws, each dipped in the dark red of your blood. “You’re the clever one, aren’t you? And deception has a particularly acrid scent, Stiles. Tell me the truth or I will rip her apart.”

You feel weak and faint as Peter trails his fingers along your bare skin. Tears are streaming from your eyes and into your hair. The tears to your side are searing with pain; with every breath you’re hurting.

One of your ribs must be broken.

Stiles was panicking, unsure of how to help you. “Okay, look… I think he knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Derek, I think he knew he was gonna be caught.”

“By the Argents?” Peter was staring at him with a hunters mark.

Stiles struggles to look between him and you bleeding on the ground. “Yeah, and when they were shot, he and Scotty… I think he took Scott’s phone.” You wince in pain and he pounds a fist into the grass.

“Why?” Peter asks lowly.

“They all have GPS now. So if he still has it and if it’s still on… you can find him.”

“Then lets go.”

Stiles is still frantic, fingers in the grass and tears of frustration burning his eyes. You were writhing on the ground in clear agony.

“No, I’m not just letting you leave them here.”

“You don’t have a choice Stiles; you’re coming with me.” Peter bends down to fish in your dress pocket, producing your cell phone, “Here ‘Lydia is hurt on the field,’ happy now? Sent it to a friend chat.”

“What about (Y/N)?”

Peter searches his pockets for a handkerchief, “She’ll be coming with us.” He wipes superiorly at his chin. Stiles begs from his place on the ground.

“You can’t drag her around with us! She’s bleeding out; she needs a doctor!”

“Then I suggest you don’t waste my time trying to find Derek,” he straightens his leather coat, “Because the longer you take… the longer she suffers.”

“She has a bad heart,” Stiles pleads, those frustration tears building in the corners of his eyes. “Any more stress could kill her.”

Peter squats beside you, making you whimper. “Then don’t cause her any more stress by fighting me.” He sinks his claws under your arm and drags you effortlessly across the field.

You cry out in pain, your legs too weak to flail. Blood leaves a trail behind you, Stiles scrambling to his feet, “Stop it! That’s hurting her too much. Her heart will give out before we find Derek – and there goes my incentive.” He yells the last part, “I won’t care after that!”

Peter grumbles and wraps his arms around your waist and legs, carrying you the rest of the way to Stiles’ jeep. You’re placed in the back, panting and hissing with pain as Peter and Stiles sit in the front.

You try to think of a way to prolong your consciousness. You gather the extra fabric from your dress and apply pressure to your side. The punctures to your neck and arm are less of a concern. At least he didn’t bite you.

“I forget how long it takes for humans to heal,” Peter huffs a laugh, “You’d be perfectly fine by now if you were a werewolf, (Y/N).”

Stiles sets his face as he drives away from the school. He keeps checking his rearview mirror to see how you’re coping.

You elevate your legs, take deep breaths, and keep pressure on your largest wound.

“Don’t feel bad,” Peter says, “If Lydia lives, she’ll become a werewolf. She’ll be incredibly powerful.”

Lydia had been bitten, you realize horribly.

“Yeah,” Stiles says sarcastically, “And once a month she’ll go out of her freaking mind and try to tear people apart.”

“Oh, the bite isn’t so bad,” Peter laughs, “It might actually save (Y/N)’s life if she can’t surpass her own wounds.” He directs Stiles to a parking garage further into town, “I could grant her a bite.”

“And make her a raging monster every month? No, thank you.”

Peter smiles wickedly, “Not even to save her life?”

It was quiet after that, the jeep making its way into the hospital parking garage and to a certain level. They park near a small gray car and leave you there.

The wounds to your side were pulsating with rhythmic pain and heat. Blood continues to soak through the fabric you keep bunching over it. You can hear Stiles being frantic and you can’t imagine how he must be feeling.

The longer he takes the more you suffer.

He was probably going out of his mind with worry. But you know instantly that you would forgive him for however long it’ll take to appease Peter.

There’s a loud bang and the back of the jeep is torn open. You tumble out at the momentum, crashing to the asphalt in a painful heap. You gasp at the cascading amounts of aching hurt.

Peter grips you by the hair and lifts you from the ground effortlessly. You scream, bundles of bloody fabric leaving your hands to claw at Peter’s hand.

“I can be very persuasive, Stiles. Don’t make me persuade you.”

“Okay, okay!” Stiles yells, “Put her down!”

You sob on the asphalt, the effort to breathe between cries is putting strain on your heart. It doesn’t take long for you to fall into a limbo between pain and unconsciousness. Stiles began to frantically type on a laptop. You couldn’t understand what they were saying.

The hurt was too loud.

“I can’t breathe,” you gasp.

Peter goes to stand over you, urging Stiles to focus on the computer, “I’d suggest typing faster there, Stiles.”

“God. Fuck. Shit. God. Damn,” Stiles keeps messing up the keys and needing to refresh, meanwhile hearing you gasp for air behind him. “Wait! Here, look… they’re keeping him… at the Hale House.”

Peter gives you a good kick to the back as he steps over you, “Not at it. Under it. I know exactly where that is.” His ears perk up, “And I’m not the only one. Give me your keys.”

Stiles is practically bouncing on his toes to get to your struggling figure. “Careful, she grinds in second.” But his keys are returned bent and unusable. “What… how am I supposed to get her to the front of the hospital?!”

“You have a cell phone,” he says, “Now, because you did me a favor, Stiles. I’m going to offer this only once… do you want me to give her the bite?”

“The what?” Stiles is unable to focus with you quieting behind him.

“Does she want the bite?” Peter asks more clearly, “This is her one chance to get a cure all for her wounds. Of course it might kill her either way, but… that’s a risk you’d have to take.”

Stiles is at a loss, quiet as he considers. “No. She wouldn’t want that.”

“Very well,” Peter slides into his car without another word.

Stiles’ dress shoes squeak as he reaches your side, ignoring the way Peter speeds out of the parking garage. He kneels at your head, terrified that your lips were going purple. “Oh my god,” he mumbles, “(Y/N)? (Y/N), can you hear me?”

Your eyes barely flutter open before closing again, unable to breathe. He puts his head to your chest, one hand on your neck, searching for a pulse. Your heart was giving out.

“No,” he says, “No way. Not today. You’re not supposed to faint when you’re not breathing.” He pulls out his phone and puts 911 on speaker. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.” He brushes the hair out of your face, revealing road rash from where you fell from the trunk.

911 instructs him to start CPR and wait for personnel to pick you up. Being in the hospital parking garage meant that help would be there soon. Stiles has his hands over the scars on your chest, smeared with blood from your side. He tries to keep his arms straight as he attempts to pump life back into your body.

He gives you a kiss of life, two breaths that would hopefully keep oxygen moving throughout your body. This was not how he envisioned your next kiss. Your lips were lifeless and soft. They were still purple.

You couldn’t die now – not when he still needs to apologize. Not when it would be his fault for not getting you help sooner.

Not when he had just confessed having feelings for you.

~~~

Stiles sits in the hospital hallway, legs bouncing and arms shaking with the movement as he leans on them. His head is bowed as the Sheriff comes speeding towards him.

“You know what?” Noah says as he approaches, “It’s good that we’re in a hospital because I’m gonna kill you!” He speaks firmly, “It has been a madhouse trying to find all you kids.”

Stiles finally looks up and the Sheriff stills.

His son is red-faced from crying. He rubs at his eyes, sniffling loudly as he tries to speak past the lump in his throat. “Is she going to be okay?”

The Sheriff looks behind them at Lydia, “They don’t know, partially because they don’t know what happened.”

“No… I mean, is (Y/N) going to be okay?”

Noah looks at the sorrow in his sons face. “You haven’t gotten an update?”

“No,” Stiles says in despair, “She went back there not breathing and I don’t know if they’ve gotten her back!”

“Listen,” Noah sits beside him, resting a hand on his back, “Let’s handle what we can control first. Now, these girls were attacked by the same thing, right? Did you see anything? I mean, do you have any idea who or what attacked them?”

Stiles licks his lips, hesitant in the truth. He still needs to protect his dad. “No,” he says, “No, I have no idea.”

“But why was (Y/N) with you and Lydia with Jackson?”

“(Y/N) was dragged off the field by whatever attacked them,” Stiles lies through his teeth, “We split up to protect them both. (Y/N) was closer to my jeep.”

Noah clenches his jaw, unsure of how to help his son. “And she was still breathing when you made your way over here?”

“It wasn’t until we reached the parking lot,” Stiles mutters. He runs his hands over the short length of his hair. “God, dad… what if I was too late?”

The Sheriff looks disheartened. “You did everything you could.”

The wait was agony. Agony that only gets worse as Chris Argent comes to interrogate him and Jackson. He’s barely able to keep it together long enough to help create some Molotov cocktails. He instructs Jackson to take them to the Hale House and help.

Your parents appear a few minutes later.

“Oh my god, Stiles,” Angela cries, as red in the face as Stiles was half an hour ago. “Have they said anything?”

“No,” he says, “I’ve been waiting here for nearly an hour.”

Tom runs for the nurses station, “Maybe they’ll give her parents the news.” Angela follows with Stiles on her heels.

A nurse was trying to calm Tom down, “Sir, I understand – let me call into the OR and check.” She makes a call to a different part of the hospital and speaks quietly.

Stiles stays a foot away, not wanting to intrude but needing to hear the news just as badly. Angela was stifling sobs as Tom holds her close to him.

“Okay,” the nurse replies, placing the phone back on the receiver. “She’s currently in surgery.”

“So she’s breathing,” Stiles says loudly.

“Yes,” the nurse continues, “The lacerations to her side are being stitched and some were deep enough to puncture the abdominal wall. There’s been lots of damage and blood loss. So far so good, though,” she consoles. “She did come into the ER not breathing and spent a lot of time without oxygen. But they were able to restart her heart.”

Angela continues to sob into Tom as he says, “Thank you. Please tell the doctor her parents are here waiting for updates.”

They walk back to the waiting room, sitting on the hard cushioned seats. Stiles was slow to follow them, unsure of how to be included in their fretful waiting. It was his fault you were kept from help for so long.

“Stiles,” Angela says, her voice thick with emotion. “Your dad said you were with her when it happened.”

He scratches the back of his head, afraid to look them in the eyes. “I found her after the attack. I tried to get her here as quick as I could.” He licks his lips, “She… she couldn’t breathe as we parked.”

Tears continue to leave Angela’s eyes, “Her heart?”

“It just… gave out,” Stiles breathes, upset that he felt like crying again. “I g-gave her CPR… in the parking lot um – while the doctors came for us.”

Tom is getting teary too as he listens. He leans his elbows on his knees and covers his face. Angela looks horribly between being grateful and being resigned. Like she knew this would be her daughter’s fate, but glad you weren’t alone.

“Thank you for helping her, Stiles,” she pats the seat beside her and he sits. “She wouldn’t have made it to surgery without you.”

He gives her a painful smile. Yes, he got you to the hospital. But he could’ve gotten you here in better shape.

She puts a hand on his arm and rubs soothing circles with her thumb. The burning in Stiles’ eyes was quickly making them water again. He sniffs and leans into his hands like Tom. Angela moves her hand to his back, rubbing the expanse between his shoulders.

They sit like that for another hour before a doctor appears, “Westbrook?”

The trio stand eagerly.

“How is she?” Tom asks. He hadn’t said a word the entire hour.

“She’s stable,” the doctor says calmly. “We were able to repair the lacerations to her side and a few punctures elsewhere. We did have to restart her heart once at her arrival and once during the surgery.”

Angela swallows hard, eyes red but out of tears, “Can we see her?”

“They’re setting her up in a room now. Give it another twenty minutes.” He looks uncomfortable as he prepares himself to say something more. “(Y/N) went without oxygen for over five minutes. When the brain goes without oxygen for that long it results in the death of brain cells. We call it an anoxic brain injury.”

“What does that mean?” Tom crosses his arms, “What would that do to her?”

The doctor clears his throat, “We won’t know for sure until she wakes up. She may be comatose for a few hours or a few days. She may experience some coordination issues, communication problems, amnesia, or other impairments.”

“Oh my god,” Angela whispers, covering her mouth, “Could all that be permanent?”

“It depends on the severity of her brain injury. All minor impairments can be corrected over time,” he gives them all his reassurances.

Not soon after your parents were called back into your room. Stiles stays behind, bouncing his legs and waiting for something – anything – to happen. Everyone he loves is in some kind of danger and he has no idea where they all are.

He’s trying to get comfortable in the hard plastic chairs when Scott and Allison appear. They’re holding hands and running into the waiting room.

“How are Lydia and (Y/N)?” Allison asks.

Stiles slides off the chairs and awkwardly straightens himself. “Lydia is going to be okay,” he nods to the middle room with windows, “Her wounds…”

Scott squeezes Allison’s hand. “Allison knows. She knows everything.”

“Alrighty then,” Stiles hums, “She was bit, but the bite hasn’t fully healed, and she isn’t dead so… whatever that means.”

“And (Y/N)?” Scott asks, looking at every sign that his best friend has been crying.

Stiles swallows, “I don’t know. Her heart gave out and she went without oxygen for a long time.” He licks his lips, rubbing hard at his eyes, “The surgery went well, but we don’t know how bad her brain damage will be until she wakes up.”

Allison, already having lost much that night, was exhausted by the news. She leans into Scott who holds her tightly. Stiles watches it with a pang in his chest.

They talk about the events of the night. How the cocktails Jackson brought weakened the Alpha and Derek delivered the final killing blow. He was now the Alpha. Kate was dead and the Sheriff was at the crime scene. It was a distraction that Stiles was grateful for. It made the time pass quicker than just stewing in his own guilt.

“If it weren’t for you I think Peter would’ve killed a lot more,” Scott says as a way to cheer his friend.

“Jackson’s the one who delivered,” he replies.

Allison looks worried at the obvious disregard of his contribution. “Stiles… you have been a hero tonight.” She shakes her head, “A lot of people are alive because you helped.”

“At what cost,” he mumbles, thinking of your brain injury. “I don’t know.”

“How about we go home,” Scott suggests, “You need some sleep and the Westbrooks would call with updates.”

“No,” Stiles chews on his lips, “I’m not leaving until she wakes up.”

Scott looks at his friend seriously, “Are you sure? That could be a long time.”

“I’m sure,” he waves them off, “I’ll wait for my dad.”

They leave with plans that sound a lot like ‘rooftop cuddling,’ and Stiles is again left to wonder the ‘what ifs’ of the night. What would have happened if he had never left your side to get that drink? What if he hadn’t found Scott’s location in time? What were you going to say about his confession of feelings?

It hurt too much to think.

~~~

Sheriff Stilinski had spent the majority of the night managing the crime scene at the Hale House. The bodies of Kate Argent and Peter Hale were removed, and the property was taped off while forensics worked.

It was nearly daybreak when he left to pass out on his living room couch.

Several hours later he awoke for a finger of whiskey and a sandwich. He was just layering the turkey and cheese when he yelled for Stiles to come down for a talk.

When there was no reply, the sheriff went searching the house, turkey in hand. Stiles was nowhere to be seen.

“Damnit,” he curses, “That complete…” He searches for his phone, dialing and forgetting about his sandwich. “Tom?”

“Yeah, Sheriff, is everything okay?”

“Fine, fine. I just can’t find Stiles. Is he still at the hospital?”

There’s a pause where Tom has a breathy laugh, “Yeah, the kid’s still here.”

“Thank god,” Noah sighs, “I’m sorry, Tom – has he been pestering you guys?”

“No, he’s… well he’s actually just been stuck in the waiting room this whole time.” Tom sounds exhausted. “The times I’ve gone out for drinks he’s been there waiting for an update. I just tell him (Y/N)’s still comatose.”

“God, I’m sorry,” Noah rubs at his eyes, “She still hasn’t woken up yet?”

“Not at all,” Tom swallows, “Not even a twitch.”

The sheriff searches for his keys, “Well, I’ll come grab my son. He needs a shower and some sleep at least.”

“Sure, and Sheriff, we would call you if she woke up,” Tom adds softly, “I know she… she cares about you and Stiles.”

An unexpected twinge of sadness envelopes him, “Thank you, Tom. She’s a special girl.” He clears his throat, “I’ll be there in a sec.”

It takes him another twenty minutes to get to the hospital. On the right floor, he finds Stiles slumped in a hard cushioned chair with his feet propped on a coffee table. He has several magazines open and covering him like makeshift blankets.

His face looks swollen from frequent tears and his eyes look irritated from wiping at them so much. Noah looks at him with a quickly softening heart. The last time he had seen his son cry this much at a hospital…

“Stiles…”

The boy turns his eyes to his father, hidden beneath the blanket of magazines.

“Read anything good?”

He gives a half-hearted smile, “No, but this Victory magazine is actually thick enough to help retain my body warmth.”

“I see you’ve found ways to entertain yourself.”

“I got tired of being stuck in my thoughts,” he sighs, scratching at his head. “You should see the towels the nurses let me fold.”

Noah’s eyebrows raise, “Man, you must’ve been really bored. Did you not sleep at all?”

Stiles shakes his head, “I was afraid of missing when she woke up.”

“And how’s the Martin girl?”

Stiles shrugs, “She’s been able to get up and down with some help. But she’s been sleeping a lot. Her parents are taking turns sitting with her. You know… tension with the divorce.”

“You should get some sleep too.”

“I don’t think I can,” Stiles says, shifting until a few magazines fell to the floor. “I can’t sleep knowing that (Y/N) could still be seriously hurt.”

“And she could be seriously fine.”

Stiles scoffs, “And it’d be all my fault.”

“Hey,” the sheriff goes to sit by his son, knocking a few magazines off his chest. “None of this is your fault. You had nothing to do with the attack.”

“… but I could’ve kept them inside the school. I could’ve stopped them before anything bad happened.”

Sadness creeps into the sheriff, “Let’s get you home. You need to get cleaned up and have a rest.”

“No,” Stiles was quick to reply, “I’m not leaving until I know she’s okay.”

“The doc said it could be days, Stiles. You’re not going to be able to stay awake for days.”

“I can try.”

Noah stands, “No. You’re going to come home for a few hours. I’m gonna be honest, son, you look terrible. And I know you don’t want your little reunion with (Y/N) to be memorable because you smell like musty teenager and look like you’ve got a head cold.” He waits for a few seconds while Stiles pouts like a child. “After you get some sleep I’ll let you stay at the hospital as long as you want.”

A silent battle rages between the two. It takes only one more nudge for Stiles to stand from his uncomfortable chair. “Stiles, you’re not the only one who’s worried about her,” the sheriff gives him another look of concern.

“You have to wake me if I sleep through a call from the Westbrooks.”

“Deal,” Noah claps a hand around his son, leading him to the front doors. “God, do you even own a deodorant stick?”

Stiles jabs his father in the side, “And an antiperspirant spray, jackass.”

Noah slaps the back of his head, “You need to actually use them for them to work, smart alec.”

The entire car ride back has Stiles nodding off against the window. There’s a wet, foggy mark where his mouth rests open. He stumbles into the house and starts stripping as he climbs the stairs.

Noah follows and gathers the clothes, catching the bent ring of keys as they fall from a pocket. It makes him sigh, memories of his wife handling those same jeep keys… then he saw the random sets that had to belong to places Stiles shouldn’t be.

A key to the police station, to the school, to a few neighbor houses.

He would arrange to have the proper keys fixed, and the others confiscated.

Stiles stands in the shower for longer than usual. He lets the hot water run down his head and work at the knots in his shoulders. He feels cramped from being stuck in an uncomfortable hospital chair for nearly twelve hours.

It takes the thought of seeing you again to make him scrub himself clean. His father was right, he wants you to see him fresh and sane. And right now he was anything but.

It feels good to be in a pair of pajama pants and a simple black shirt. He collapses on his bed without much thought. He was more desperate for sleep than he realized.

He drifts into dreams – dreams that he will hold onto in the days to come.

~~~

He walks along the path of a lake, grand berry bushes grow wildly there. Large, tart blackberries and deep, rich blueberries bloom along the leaves. Bushels of ripe berries are everywhere, halfway picked with plenty more to go. He picks a handful of plump raspberries and delights in their sweetness.

The trees overhead protect him from the sun, welcoming him with their shimmering leaves and singing birds. The berries leave sticky sweet juice on his fingers, each delicious as he sucks on them.

Ahead is the path leading to the boardwalk atop the lake. He grins as the summer sunshine appears to warm his skin. He admires the shiny red strawberries growing in twisted strands near the picnic tables. A cutting board is laden with freshly cut lemons and red berries – a pitcher containing sour pink lemonade beside them.

All the colors seem brighter, like a summer filter overlay everything. Stiles picks up an already prepared glass, ice cubes clinking and submerged in the pink drink. After a sip he promptly eats a few cut strawberries, smelling them with an air of familiarity.

He loves the smell of strawberries and summer fruits.

In an open cooler beside the table, half-buried in chunks of melting ice, are bright orange creamsicles and bubbly sodas. A candy tray holds caramel chocolate, sugary peach rings, and sticky gummy worms.

He was quick to sample everything, his attention catching something floating in the lake. A girl was lounging in a large nectarine orange floatie, sunglasses on her face and sunscreen on her shoulders.

Stiles smiles wide, running for the boardwalk. It was all so vibrant and warm. The red of the berries, the lemon yellow, bright orange creamies, shimmering green trees, sparkling pink lemonade, and the brilliant blue of the lake water.

It smelt of sugar and sun warmed earth and fresh berries. It smelt like (Y/N).

He stops on the edge of the boardwalk, shading his eyes to see you lounging in the floatie. “(Y/N)!” he calls to you.

You look up at him, cheeks peachy pink from the sun, “Stiles?” You sit up, swimsuit beautiful with lavender purples and sage stems. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “But I’m glad to see you.”

You float closer to the boardwalk, moving the sunglasses to your hair. “Do you even own a swimsuit?”

He laughs, “Probably buried beneath a few camp shirts.”

“Figures,” you smile, lifting a hand bangled in rose gold, “Help me up?”

He swallows, “Yeah, sure.” He bows to take a hold of your hand, but there’s resistance. You yank on his arm and manage to flop him onto your floatie. He flails as you try to balance the giant inflatable.

It makes you laugh to see him so frantic, “You’re going to tip us!” He lands on you, your hands wrapping around him in a fit of giggles.

He holds onto your sun warmed skin, pulling you too close to the edge. Side heavy, the floatie tips over with a scream from your lips. A splash makes the water ripple as you tread to the surface, spluttering water.

“I told you to calm down,” you laugh, splashing at Stiles.

He splutters more, making ridiculous faces as he wipes the lake water from his eyes. “It was getting hot anyways.” He splashes at you next, causing you to squeal with laughter.

The splash battle was short and intense, Stiles mimicking his favorite water benders in sending waves your way. You dive for the ladder at the boardwalk, scaling it to make a quick getaway.

Stiles curses, following your dripping figure. “Get back here!” he runs across the boardwalk to meet you at the picnic table.

You are eating a plump strawberry, tossing one at his head for good measure. He ducks and gives you a sly smile, opening his mouth like a target. You promptly aim a large berry, laughing hysterically as he jumps and catches it in his mouth.

Both his arms go in the air, triumphant, “Did you see that?” he cries between loud chews. He runs to you, tickled by your laughter. He wraps you up in his arms and soaks you in.

This is you. You remind him of summertime. The vibrant colors of life. The sweet berries that grow wild. The sun that warms whatever it touches. The water cooling sunburnt skin.

The orange cream and peachy sugar.

He spins you once and sets you down, still inches from you. The pair of you are laughing like summer will never end.

Then you lock eyes.

The laughter dies slower, smiles never leaving your faces. But your eyes are entirely too warm to be just mirth. He’s looking at you like the sun itself. He was embracing the embodiment of color and sweetness and warmth.

He looks down to your berry stained lips.

With one second of hesitance he leans down to your mouth. He devours the sticky sweetness of your berry lips. He kisses you hungrily, desperately, like it was the one and only time he’d be able to kiss you.

You respond with holding his face, fingertips digging into his cheeks. His hands drift down your sides to the backs of your thighs. In an upward motion he picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist.

A sigh of surprise escapes you, taller than him momentarily so you have to angle his face up to yours. He groans in delight as he carries you to the picnic table. He sets you on top of it, moving his hands to your thighs, searching for that moan of satisfaction from your mouth.

He nips at your lips, loving every sound you make. He nuzzles into your neck, finding that sweet spot to kiss. He has to pull back to take a breath.

You look tired. Your lips are purplish-blue. His brow knits. “(Y/N) you’re…” He lifts a hand to your chin and finds that it’s coated in bright blood. Brighter than those red berries. “Oh my god!” He pulls back to see a fresh wound to your side, soaking the lavender swimsuit in rich blood. “Oh my god, (Y/N) – what do I…”

Your chest stutters and choking sounds come from your throat. A strained redness enters your eyes as you reach for him, puncture marks along your neck. Stiles is frantic at your absence of words, “What’s happening?” he yells, “What did I do?”

You fall back onto the table, dull lemonade spilling and mixing with your bright blood. Berries and lemons roll to the ground. You choke and flail as Stiles cries his panic.

And he sits straight up in bed, sheets tangled between his legs and pillows on the floor. He’s sweating and cold, the sun setting outside as he scrambles for breath. He throws his legs over and bows over his knees.

~~~

With no word from the Westbrooks, Stiles finds himself wandering the neighborhoods until he finds your house. He looks longingly at your window, dark as it was with the recent sunset, he could just make out the cat staring back at him.

“Oliver,” he whispers, finding something else to distract himself with. He goes for the front door, hoping that in the commotion of getting to the hospital, your parents left it unlocked. He was right.

The cat was there to greet him, mewling loudly and rubbing his head against Stiles’ legs.

“You hungry, little buddy?” he closes the door and makes his way to the kitchen. Inside the pantry he finds a container of dry food shaped like little fish. “I would think (Y/N) made you gourmet cat food.”

Ollie stands on his back legs and stretches his front paws up Stiles’ leg. It was super cute. “I guess maybe just for special occasions, huh?” he sighs, taking a scoop and pouring it in the food bowl by the back door.

The cat purrs and flicks his floofy tail as Stiles sits at the dining table to watch him. It must’ve been ten minutes when the front door opens again.

There was Melissa and Scott, holding keys and a duffel bag embroidered with the hospital logo.

“Oh! Stiles, what are you doing here?”

“Um, I… well, I knew Ollie needed to be fed.”

Scott shuts the door while Melissa continues to look discontented, “Who’s Ollie?”

“The cat,” Stiles gestures to the fluffy animal, “(Y/N) would kill me if he went without food for this long.”

“You broke into the house to feed the cat?” Scott smirks, hands in his pockets.

Stiles lifts his arms, “No! The door was unlocked.”

Melissa laughs, “Still strange, Stiles. You still entered without permission.” She walks to the stairs with the duffel bag; Scott makes his way to the dining table.

“What are you guys doing here?” Stiles asks in a low voice.

Scott slumps into a chair, “The Westbrooks need clothes and stuff, so mom volunteered to pack a bag.”

Stiles crinkles his brow, “Did you do something with your hair?”

“Maybe,” he wipes a hand up and catches the gelled back fringe, “I’m trying something new.”

“I didn’t realize you had a forehead,” Stiles smirks.

Scott mumbles a retort. “I thought you were going to camp out at the hospital.”

“I was until my dad decided to drag my ass out,” he grumbles, “But there hasn’t been any news that she’s awake, so…” He plays with the hem of his shirt, feeling a little empty of conversation. “How are you and Allison?”

“Great,” Scott smiles an idiot smile, “Until her dad hunted us down and nearly killed me.”

“You’re kidding,” Stiles grimaces, “After everything that’s just happened?”

Scott shrugs, “I’m still a werewolf, I guess. He let me live, but I have to stay away from Allison.” His smile grows more subtle, eyes on the floor, “At least, I have to pretend to.”

“Great plan, Scott. Let’s remember how this guy hunts and murders the supernatural for a living. He has a literal collection of the best weapons money could buy, with – let me add – special werewolf ammunition that can work around your little healing superpower.”

“Yeah, but I still get to see Allison.”

Stiles slumps a little further down his chair, Oliver snacking on his dinner in the background. “You’re impossible.”

“I could say the same about you,” Scott retorts, “You’re just as hopeless.”

“You know I told her how I feel about her…” Stiles speaks quietly, avoiding his friends gaze.

Scott measures the rhythm of his friends heart, “And?”

“And she got faint…”

“Made her weak at the knees, did you?”

“And she ran off to be attacked by the Alpha.”

“Ouch,” Scott hisses, “No return confession?”

Stiles clears his throat, “There wasn’t time for her to.”

“Then I guess there’s still a chance that she does,” Scott says softly, “It could be the first thing she says when she wakes up.”

Melissa comes down the stairs with a heavy duffel bag full of clothes and toiletries. She huffs at the boys, “You two coming?”

“Back to the hospital?” Stiles asks, standing quickly.

“Yeah, we’re going to drop off the supplies and maybe grab a late dinner.”

“Count me in,” he replies, scratching Ollie behind the ears in goodbye.

~~~

Stiles had been wandering the hospital hallways all night, refusing any sleeping aide from Melissa as she left. She’d be back for her day shift in a couple hours.

In a pathetic attempt to see you, he creeps past the night nurse to stand awkwardly at your window. The blinds are drawn and he wails silently, upset that it’s been so long since he last saw you.

He falls to the ground and slumps against the wall. Past the point of tears, he just melts into the floor. Until he hears a sneaker against the tile.

His eyes fly to the door to see Angela standing there with dark circles under her eyes. “Hello, Stiles.”

He clambers to his feet, rubbing his shaved hair flat against his head, “H-Hi front desk Westbrook.”

She smiles at that, “Have you been here the whole day?” she leans against the door frame as if she were hiding whatever was inside.

“No, my dad made me go home for a nap.”

“That’s good,” she says, “Um… Tom is asleep on the couch, but if you want to see her…”

“Yes, please!” he says entirely too loud.

She shushes him, “Again – her dad is asleep. Let’s try not to wake him; it’s the first sleep he’s gotten since the accident.”

Stiles nods vigorously, straightening his jacket and pulling on his hoodie strings. “Yep, I got you. Roger that.”

She refrains from rolling her eyes, endeared by him much like her daughter was at times. “She hasn’t moved an inch, but if you hold her hand long enough I swear she squeezes back.”

They step into the darkened room, only a lamp in the corner providing some light on the machines at work. You lay stone cold on the hospital bed. Dressed in a white gown and layered beneath a scratchy cotton blanket, you would look asleep if it weren’t for the numerous machines tracking your vitals.

Stiles goes into shock for a second, standing rigid by the door while Angela goes for her usual chair by the couch. She gestures for him to move, afraid speaking would wake her snoring husband.

With shuffling steps, Stiles makes for the chair beside your bed. Many stickers were on your chest, each connected to wires that lead to a machine. A thin yellow tube goes into your nose and is taped at your cheek. A monitor is attached to your index finger and the back of your hand has an IV stuck there.

He can see little stiches beneath your chin where Peter stuck his claws, and he knew your side was heavily bandaged with surgical tape. The right side of your face, the side that fell onto the asphalt as you tumbled out of the trunk, had road rash. Bloody scrapes were at your forehead and on that cheekbone. They were both covered with a shiny ointment.

“You can sit down,” Angela whispers, nodding to the chair, “She won’t bite.”

Stiles gives her a stiff smile, sitting in the chair. It was much more plush than the ones in the waiting room. He scoots closer to your bed and ponders your face. You look peaceful – not at all how you looked right before losing the ability to breathe.

It was making his dry eyes burn. Your lips weren’t purple anymore. They had the soft pink color he saw in his dreams.

“Hi, (Y/N),” he says softly. It put a lump in his throat “I – I’m… god…” He bows his head and finds that the warmth that usually took hold of him when he saw you… it ached and burned in his chest. “I’m sorry.”

He reaches for your left hand, closest to him. It was free of wires and tubes, but it had hospital tags around your wrist. Your fingers are cold, and he wraps both his hands around them.

Angela tries to mind her own business, pulling a book from the side table to read. Or at least give her eyes something to look at.

“I’m so sorry,” Stiles continues, he holds the mess of hands to his mouth, “I’m sorry for everything.” He tries to compose himself, tired of crying. “Um… don’t worry I fed Oliver before I came over.”

He misses the smile that Angela has on her face.

“And I’m pretty sure he deserves some fancy gourmet fish cake for the trouble,” Stiles deflects, rubbing his thumbs across the back of your hand. “He was worried sick about… about not eating.”

Angela huffs a laugh behind her book.

“That’s why dogs are better, you know. They freak out when their owner is sick. Cats just freak out when they can’t find their next meal.” He tries to swallow past the lump, “I was… I was freaking out there for a second.”

His fingers become light and lazy like they were the night on the preserve when you got drunk. “I felt hopeless again, seeing you like that.” He sniffles and clears his throat, “Which would make it super awesome if you would wake up soon,” he laughs sadly, “Please wake up soon. Please be alright.”

He holds your hand for another half hour, searching for that squeeze that Angela mentioned. Until Tom stirs on the couch and Stiles stands abruptly, suddenly afraid of his intrusion on a family matter.

He waves goodbye to a saddened Angela before returning to his hallway wandering. He walks and walks until the shift changes and the sun begins to rise again. His eyes feel dry and droopy, like he was in need of another emergency nap.

He slumps against the nurses station as Melissa appears in her scrubs, “You hanging in there, kiddo?” She rubs across his shoulders and he groans. “You didn’t sleep last night?”

“I napped all afternoon,” he says into the station counter, “(Y/N) still isn’t awake.”

“I’m sorry, kid,” she sympathizes, “She’s a part of my rounds today. I’ll make sure to give you updates, alright?”

He gives her a silly smile where his face was squashed into the counter, “Thanks, McCall.”

He wanders until he finds the gift shop open. There he buys a foil balloon covered in smiley faces and says, ‘Get well!’ It stays tied to his wrist as he makes his way back to the waiting room by your door.

Getting as comfortable as he could across three hospital chairs, he starts to fall asleep. It only takes five minutes for him to be lightly snoring, chair arms digging into his shoulders and lower back.

He fidgets there, balloon bobbing above him as he fights the stiffness of the chairs. He’s so exhausted that it doesn’t even wake him from the dreams he was diving into. Dreams similar to the summer day at the lake with you.

Ones where he got to hold you and kiss you again.

Melissa checks your chart by the door before sneaking a look at the snoozing boy.

“Oh, just like that. No, no – you first,” he mumbles, “Me first?” he drools in his sleep.

Melissa shakes her head and smiles, returning the chart and being startled by Tom walking out of your room. “Oh, Mr. Westbrook, you scared me.”

“Sorry, Melissa. And it’s Tom, please.” He stretches his arms, looking at the same thing she was moments ago. Stiles is stretched out across the chairs making kissing noises at the thin air. “Has he been here all night?”

“He’s been here all weekend,” Melissa folds her arms.

“That’s… concerning.”

Melissa pats his arm, “He’s one of the good ones.”

“You sure about that?” Tom winces at the dream kissing, “He seems like a load of trouble.”

“Oh, he’s plenty that,” Melissa laughs, “But he’s got a good heart. He cares a lot about your (Y/N).”

Tom folds his arms, “Speaking of which, she was twitching a bit in her sleep just an hour ago. Would you mind checking on her? See if she wakes to some stimulus or something.”

“Of course,” Melissa says, following his lead into your patient room.

Stiles wakes as the custodial service empties a garbage can by his head. Rudely woken at a really good part in his dream, he groggily smacks the balloon tied to his wrist. It floats back to hit him in the face and he falls out of the hospital chairs.

“Oh my god!” a muffled voice yells from your patient room.

Stiles flies to his feet, throat bobbing as he listens for something else. “(Y/N)?” He walks to your windows, blinds open now that the sun was out. His knees wobble at seeing your eyes open and mouth smiling.

He jumps to the door, creaking it open slowly as to not disturb the sudden commotion inside.

“Okay, lets run through basics,” Melissa says, “Cover one eye for me.” She measures your sight, dilating pupils, and your depth perception. “So far so good. Lift both arms for me and smile.” She checks for any signs of one sided weakness, but you pass with flying colors.

“Is she fine?” Angela holds onto her husband, “Is anything wrong?”

“Okay, (Y/N) – I need you to wiggle your toes. Good. And can you feel this?” Melissa checks for any numbness in your extremities. “Perfect. Now can you repeat this for me? Sally sells seashells…”

You lick your lips, “Sally sells seashells.”

“Amazing,” Melissa claps. There wasn’t an immediate speech impediment. “Alright, now tell me your name.”

“(Y/N) Westbrook.”

She nods, “And do you have any pets?”

“I have a gray cat named Oliver.”

“Where were you born?”

“In Palo Alto,” you say, still with confusion in your brow. “What’s going on?”

Melissa holds up her hands, “We’re just checking for any brain injuries. What surgery did you get last summer?”

“I had a device put near my heart,” you point to the 3-inch incision on your chest. “What the hell?” You move your left sleeve to look at the claw marks on your shoulder.

“And where do you go to school?” Melissa asks.

You shake your head, touching the scars, “Um… I go to school at home, I guess. I’m homeschooled.”

The room goes silent.

Melissa tries to maintain the calm, “(Y/N), do you know why you’re in the hospital?”

“I’m assuming because of this,” you point at the claw marks, “Cause I have no idea where they came from.” You scoff and find a hitch in your chest – a pain in your side, “Or maybe there’s another thing by my ribs. That actually hurts a lot.”

“Oh my god, she doesn’t remember,” Angela whispers, terrified.

Tom rubs a hand down her arm, “Just give them a minute.”

“Do you know who these people are?” Melissa points to your parents.

It makes you laugh, “Yeah, that’s my mom and dad.”

“And what about me?”

You lick your lips again, “You’re Melissa McCall. You always help when I’m in the hospital.”

She looks stiff, contemplating the next move. She looks behind her to see Stiles standing frozen at the door, balloon stuck behind him. Melissa grabs him by the sleeve and drags him into your view, “Do you know who this is?”

Stiles gives an awkward wave, balloon bouncing along with his hand. “Hi, (Y/N).”

You squint your eyes, a frown growing, “No, I’m sorry, who are you?” You miss the way the room steels over with fright. “How do you know my name?”

~~~

Taglist: @assassinsasha23 @tasty-book-fans @lovelybaka @the-fandom-queen @runs-with-sciss0rs @iamaslytherin0 @n3muru @bethsvrse @taylorbrooke-0912 @iloveyou2mia @everrrsincenewyork @gisellesprettylies @dullypully @taylordaughter @greenoliveslover @nataliambc @anehkael

[cherry-holmes]

Glimpse of a life with Javier Peña (series)

Chapter 2

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Javi fucked up things with you.

SERIES MASTERLIST PART 3

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word count: +2.5k

Warnings: none. No use of Y/N.

A/N: Chapter 2 is here! As always I want to thank you for your support! I hope you like this one and be ready for moreeee!🫶🏻✨ I love reading your comments and reblogs, so keep the coming✨

I’m open for requests. Javier Peña, Joel Miller, Din Djarin, Loki, BBC Sherlock, Supernatural…😏

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Work made time fly quickly. You had a lot of paperwork to do every day, and it seemed endless – spending hours reading reports and files and then translating them on your typewriter. However, something had been making the last two weeks feel easier, or better to say, someone.

Every afternoon, Javier Peña visited your office to hand you his and Murphy's daily reports. You wondered when Messina would withdraw Javier's punishment, but you weren't sure if you wanted her to do it. You didn't have a lot of friends at work since your department consisted of only one employee – you. You had some conversations with secretaries and officers during your lunch breaks, but you always returned alone to your small office.

So, when Javier visited and talked with you for at least a couple of minutes, it made you feel less isolated in the demanding work environment. The couple of days when he didn't visit because he was on a raid out of the base, you couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. You became accustomed to the smell of cigarettes and men's cologne that lingered in the air whenever he was around. Sometimes he also smelled like black coffee, and on his roughest days, even like whiskey.

It became a small but pleasant routine, these short daily visits from Javier. You'd sometimes share a funny story or a piece of office gossip, and occasionally, you'd laugh together. Those brief moments helped create a sense of camaraderie between you and the charming DEA agent.

Until one particular day, as Javier handed you the reports, he leaned casually against your office doorframe, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "You know," he began, "I've been thinking. Maybe you and I should grab a drink after work one of these days. Get to know each other a little better, outside of this crazy office."

His proposition took you by surprise. You hadn't expected this kind of invitation. Your mind raced as you tried to decide how to respond. Javier watched you intently, his eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and something else you couldn't quite put your finger on.

You were about to say yes immediately, but you knew better than to let yourself fall into the den of the beast so easily. You had heard a lot about Javier Peña and his charming ways, known to lead any woman to his bed. And although you had been enjoying the friendly conversations with him, you didn't want to rush into anything too quickly.

You met his gaze, your own eyes locking with his. "Javier," you began carefully, "I appreciate the offer, I really do. But, I have to be honest, you have quite the reputation, and I don't want to misinterpret our friendship."

Javier's smirk hesitated, as he tried to process your response. He looked like it was the first time he'd been rejected, and it caught him off guard. He straightened his back and moved his hand as if dismissing the importance of it all.

"Wow," he said with a touch of sarcasm, "I never thought I'd see the day when someone turned down a night with Javier Peña. Guess I overestimated our connection."

His words stung, and you could see a flicker of hurt in his eyes, even though he was trying to play it cool. You had unintentionally wounded his pride, and it seemed he was determined to strike back with a hint of meanness.

"It's not about our connection, Javier," you replied evenly. "It's about respecting boundaries and not rushing into something we might regret later."

«That I might regret later».

He sighed, his tone softening just a bit. "Fair enough. I get it. I won't push," he said, his playful charm replaced by a more somber demeanor. "Let's just forget I ever brought it up. We can stick to our friendly chats. No harm done."

The atmosphere in the room grew tense, and you both lapsed into an uneasy silence. It was clear that your rejection had affected him more than he let on, and you couldn't help but feel a sting of guilt for hurting his feelings.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He didn't mean it.

"I never thought I'd see the day when someone turned down a night with Javier Peña"?

What the fuck was that shit?

As Javier left your office, he felt guilty and embarrassment for saying that. He knew his behavior wasn't correct, but the disappointment he felt really took him by surprise. He had been rejected a couple of times, he was prepared for your possible refusal. But what he didn't expect was the heavy weight he would feel when he heard you saying no.

For weeks, he had been feeling increasingly drawn to you, always wanting to be near you. He even used Messina's punishment as an excuse to visit your office, even after she withdrew it. Javier had finally come to the disconcerting realization that he was infatuated with you. So, he thought that perhaps by taking you out for a drink and even having you in his bed, he would get over it.

But as he got into his truck, he felt truly disillusioned. His ill-advised words had driven a split between you, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he had ruined any chance of building something more meaningful. Javier's fear of commitment was something that never kept him awake at night, not even after everything that had happened with Lorraine. He felt genuinely sorry for leaving her at the altar thirteen years ago, but he always told himself that she was much better without him. She needed someone with a lot more commitment than he had. Now, the topic seemed to be haunting him.

He wasn't mad because you hurt his ego; he was mad because you hurt the feelings he didn't know he had.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Javier didn't come to your office again the following week. It wasn't the first time a man stopped talking to you after you rejected him. You were used to it. The moment you made it clear you wouldn't give them what they wanted, they magically lost interest in you, sometimes even resorting to calling you boring or, occasionally, a bitch.

You could sense this double standard in society. On one hand, they encourage women to freely explore their sexuality, which is great, but on the other hand, if you prefer to wait for the right time and the right person, you get labeled as "boring" or "prudish." It's as if there's no middle ground, no understanding that everyone has their own path and timing.

You had always believed in waiting for the right person, the one you truly cared about, to share such an intimate moment. It wasn't about religion, you didn't even believe on the false concept of ''purity'' or ''santity''; it was simply your personal choice.

So you thought Javier was just another man like many. It made you feel disappointed because you really liked him, but there wasn't anything you could do about it.

As you entered the office dining room, you spotted your usual group of female friends. They greeted you, and you joined them. All of you spoke in Spanish.

"Hello" you smiled as you greeted as you took your seat. The chatter at the table was lively, filled with laughter and bits of gossip about the office. These women had become your companions, and you cherished the moments you spent with them during lunch breaks.

As the conversation flowed, one of your friends, Marta, leaned in and asked in a teasing tone, "So, we've been seeing Agent Peña hanging around your office quite often lately. What's the story there?"

The mention of Javier made you pause for a moment, and you glanced at your friends, slightly surprised that they had noticed. "Oh, that," you said, attempting to play it off casually. "It's because of Messina's punishment. She made him handed me his reports."

Ana raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Messina's punishment? Come on, you were chatting for like two weeks straight. That punishment lasts only a couple of days."

You felt your cheeks flush as you tried to maintain your composure. Your friends were sharp, and they clearly had their suspicions. "Well," you began, searching for words, "maybe he did something to bother her again. You know how bossy she can get."

The women at the table exchanged knowing looks, and one of them, Maria, couldn't help but tease, "Hmm, a bad boy indeed. He must really that bad."

You sighed internally. With a sheepish smile, you finally confessed, "Okay, fine. We've been talking a lot. But it's just work-related, I promise."

Marta grinned. "Work-related, huh? Well, you can't blame us for being curious. Agent Peña isn't known for spending that much time in one place, especially chatting with a colleague."

You shrugged, realizing that your friends had seen through your explanation. "I guess we've been getting along. It's nice to have someone to talk to during those long work hours."

Your friends exchanged knowing glances again, and Maria leaned closer, her voice hushed. "Come on, spill the beans. Is there something more going on between you two?"

You hesitated, then decided to be honest. "No, there isn't. It's just work and friendly conversations. Javier is a nice guy, and I enjoy our talks."

Maria leaned in again, her tone more serious this time. "That's good to hear then, because, you know, we found out that he slept with Kelly. You know her, didn't you? The blonde one."

You paused, your heart sinking at the revelation. It didn't surprised you, but you felt a hole in your chest.

"Oh," you tried to composed yourself, "Well for them."

Sofia chimed in, her expression concerned. "Yeah, we just don't want you to get hurt. These things usually don't end well. Men like him, they tend to move on pretty quickly."

"You don't have nothing to worry about," you tell them, mixing your food but you had lost your appetite, "There's nothing between us, so Javier is free to do anyone he please."

The conversation moved on to other topics, but you couldn't help but feel a ache of disappointment and confusion. Why did Javier's involvement with someone else affect you like this? You told yourself it didn't matter, that you had your own principles and choices to stick to. But deep down, something had shifted, and you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You and Javier had crossed paths around the office a couple of times during the following days, but neither of you made the effort to talk to each other. It was a bit awkward, but nothing that you actually mourned. You had heard that he spent at least two more nights with Kelly, until apparently, as you heard from Martha, she asked him to be more than just friends, and he said no. It wasn't a surprise; he had done that to more women at work. Everybody knew him.

On the other hand, Javier was desperate to get you out of his dreams. He told himself that he couldn't put a name to what he felt toward you, but the reality was that he just wanted to accept it. He had feelings for you, more than just wanting to be with you in bed. He wasn't in love - yet - but he did feel something. Your refusal had hit him harder than he expected. He couldn't deny that he cared more about you than he ever thought he would. But he had no idea how to approach you now.

The dimly lit room was filled with the lingering scent of passion and cigarette as Javier stood by the window, staring up at the distant lights of the city. Helena, lying on his bed, propped herself up on one elbow.

"Javi, what's been bothering you lately?," Helena asked, her voice soft and concerned.

Javier turned his head to look at her, his dark eyes meeting hers. He sighed and ran a hand through his tousled hair. "It's nothing, Helena, just work stuff," he replied, trying to dismiss her question.

Helena wasn't convinced. She had known Javier long enough to recognize when something was troubling him. "You can't fool me, Javier," she said with a knowing smile. "I can recognize a heart that's burdened."

He looked at her, his guard dropping slightly. "It's complicated," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Helena knew better than to press him for more details. As she watched Javier's back, her feelings were a complex mix of desire, longing, and a touch of sadness. She had known for a while that Javier was not just her client; she had developed a connection beyond the physical, even though Javier didn't.

She felt a heartache, waves of jealousy running through her veins, knowing that she could never compete with the other woman in his thoughts. Helena understood the nature of their arrangement – she was a hooker, and he was a DEA agent. Their worlds were inherently different, and she had resigned herself to the fact that he would never see her as more than a source of pleasure and information. Yet, despite her own rationalizations, Helena couldn't help but yearn for something more with Javier. She had developed genuine feelings for him over time, even though she knew it was a one-sided affair.

After Helena left his apartment, the night grew darker, and Javier lay awake in his bed, his mind racing with thoughts of you. He couldn't deny the growing feelings he had for you, and he knew he needed to do something about it. The distraction had reached a point where he couldn't ignore it any longer.

So he had made a decision. Tomorrow, he was going to approach you. He would apologize for the way he talked to you the other day, ask you out for a friendly drink, and see where things could go. It was a bold move for him, someone not accustomed to such personal pursuits.

As he mentally crafted his approach, he couldn't help but smile at the thought of your bright eyes and the way your laughter rang in his ears during those brief conversations in your office. Javier was convinced that there was something special about you, something that drew him in despite his best efforts to resist.

In the morning, Javier waited impatiently during the usual meeting in the office. He couldn't concentrate even when it was his turn to talk about the recent capture of one of Escobar's hitmen. Finally, as they left the meeting room, Murphy approached him and patted his back.

''Everything okay, Javi?'' he asked. Javier tried to keep it cool and waved a hand like it was nothing.

''I couldn't sleep well,'' he simply said as both agents arrived at their workplaces.

Steve chuckled, sitting at his desk and starting to gather all his paperwork. ''You were thinking about her, weren't you?'' he dared to ask. Javier and Steve trusted each other enough to tease one another. They never crossed the line but considered themselves friends.

Peña looked at him with annoyance, but it wasn't deep.

''Shut up, Murphy,'' he groaned as he gathered his own paperwork but didn't sit at his desk.

Steve looked at him with a grin, knowing his partner well enough to guess his next move.

''Two weeks without seeing her, and now you'll use Messina's punishment again as an excuse just to see her? What changed, Javi?'' he mocked.

''I told you to shut the fuck up,'' Javi said as he turned back toward your office, and Steve laughed.

Javier tried to remember the words he had spent the night trying to formulate and memorize. He was actually nervous. But just as he reached your doorway, his heart sank. He saw you engaged in conversation with Diego, another colleague from the office. The sight of you two talking, sharing a moment he wasn't a part of, left him feeling like an outsider. You were smiling, and there was a slight blush on your cheeks.

But not as flushed as she was with me, an intrusive thought echoed in the back of his head. He quickly turned away, his plans disrupted, and retreated to his own desk. Javier couldn't help but wonder if he had missed his chance with you. The uncertainty gnawed at him, leaving him in a state of frustration and craving.

NEXT CHAPTER

[faux-ecrivain]

What kinda yan would utterly adore a werewolf reader

(Good question and Thank you for the request/ask Anon number 7)

(Twentieth Official Post)

————————————————————When the sun sets and the full moon rises your body begins to experience changes, changes that cause your Yandere to experience a potentially interesting reaction..

———————————————————————-

Yan Crossdresser; would have mixed feelings, because he loves brushing your fur when you turn, but you make such a mess, you’re always shedding hair and sometimes you destroy furniture. Which really irritates him, because he may be well-off but his money isn’t endless. Usually when you starts misbehaving (ie destroying furniture, waking up the neighbors, digging up yards and etc) he punishes you with the dog house. That’s right, he’ll put you in a large doghouse and keep you in there until you’ve learned your lesson. So, usually when you turn he has a leash and collar close by (at all times).

———————————————————————-

Yan Neko; absolutely hates it when you turn, mostly because you’re a large dog and you bark at him whenever you turn. But, also because you chase him around and start fights with him. He also hates dogs, like any dogs. Usually when you turn he starts hissing at you and growling, he’ll even snarl at you and if you don’t get away from him (and stay far away) then the claws will come out, and he’ll attack you. Which happens very time you turn and usually ends up with the two of you in a whole lot of pain..

——————————————————————-

Yan Idol; before he’s abducted you;wouldn’t have any strong feelings toward this revelation, but he will try to take care of you and prevent your secret from getting out| After he’s abducted you; he would hold it over your head and insist that by keeping you imprisoned in his home, he’s keeping you and everyone else safe. And when you’ve turned he usually has you chained up and muzzled, this is because whenever you transform you have a habit of trying to attack him, and since he has no desire to be mauled, he’ll try to stay as far as possible. Of course, he’ll still take care of you, but he’s not going near you (no matter how much he wants to cuddle you large furry body!) Does he adore it? Yes, he does, but he hates punishing you.

———————————————————————

Yan Baby-sitter; He’s be in even more awe of you. Not only do you have some sort of supernatural ability to save him from demons, but you’re an actual supernatural being! He’d pamper you, if you’re hungry when you’ve transform he’ll hunt you the best meals (which you gleefully devour)! If you’re tired then he’ll fluff your pillows and cover you in the largest, comfiest  blanket he can find (he’ll swaddle you in a blanket and wrap it around you so tight, that you won’t be able to slash at him). If you’re in a playful mood, he’ll play whatever game you want (even chase, which usually means he gets chased by you because he keeps hugging you, but eh to him it’s the same thing)! So, I would say that Yan Baby-sitter would be the most likely to adore you!

———————————————————————

Yan Cheater; He’ll use it to bribe you, although it doesn’t work very well (because in his world werewolves aren’t real), but it won’t stop him. Plus, when you do transform he goes out of his way to incapacitate you (usually with a form of food or pets!) and take care of you. He tries to show you that he can take care of you and that you should get back with him, because he really does love you (no he doesn’t). He tries his best to be kind to you, but your disobedience and animalistic behavior does irritate him and often causes him to punish you (typically by feeding you flavorless dog food, locking you up in a dog cage and by taking away your toys.). Does he adore your werewolfness? He thinks it’s cute, but views it as a bit of a nuisance (this is because you like to try and bite him when he comes near you).

—————————————————————

Yan Reader; His favorite author is a werewolf? And he’s the only that knows? Wow! That must mean you trust him, right?! He finds your werewolf form super cute! How does he know about it? Well, he installed cameras in your house some time ago, so he can see everything that happens in your home. Anyways, he desperately wishes to be beside you and to support you throughout your temporary change, but he doesn’t want to scare you, so he sends gifts that he hopes will help you out during your transformation. Does he adore it? Yes, he does.

———————————————————————-

Yan Roommate; thinks that your werewolf instincts might explain your overprotective behavior and since He wants to show you his gratitude, he takes care of you during you time as a werewolf. He brushes your fur, feeds you fulfilling meals and makes sure that no one outside your apartment takes notice of your strange behavior or the howls you release when you’re hungry. Does he adore it? Somewhat, he thinks your fur is soft and he loves brushing through it (it’s calming to him). He wonders if your kids know..

———————————————————————

Yan Neighbor; Well, when he had you he found your werewolfen tendencies to be a nuisance as you’re a very destructive dog. He contemplates locking you away for the duration of your transformation, but knows that doing so would be counterproductive. Which causes him to tolerate your change and take care of you during it. Does he adore it? No, not really, he isn’t a big fan of dogs and only takes care of you for your approval.

———————————————————————

Yan Emperor; He thinks it’s adorable and he holds it over your add, he knows that the nobles would further disapprove of your affliction and he knows you’ll do anything to keep it a secret. So, whenever you’re on the verge of transforming he’ll invite you over and will watch as you struggle to prevent your transformation. Of course, since he doesn’t want anyone to know about your curse, he’ll lend you a room to stay in and will make an excuse for whatever noble dares to inquire about you. Then when you do transform he’ll go to your room (after you’ve calmed down that is) and begin to drown you in affection. He’ll make you very uncomfortable, because even in your wolf form he’s always touching you (usually he’s petting your ears, rubbing your belly or brushing your fur). Not to mention, your pretty sure he has a strange attachment to your wolf form (mostly because he views it as a sign of strength and it means you’ll be able to defend him and any children you might have. Even though he’s perfectly capable of doing that). Does he adore it? Absolutely, he likes big animals and has many paintings with you sitting by his side in your wolf form. He even gifted you a diamond studded leash (one that’s your favorite color of course) and a matching leash (yes, he walks you around the grounds with that leash and if anyone asks, he says it’s his pet wolf).

———————————————————————-

Yan Duke (a character not yet written); He adores most animals and already admires you because you’re a General, and have won many wars. But, to learn that you’ve been undergoing such an affliction whilst maintaining your pride ,and ignoring all the ignorant remarks from other nobles, well he thinks you’re an amazing person. His admiration for you is upped by ten and he enjoys running his hands through fur. One of his favorite pastimes would be brushing your fur, he’s gentle, of course, and often spoils you with snout kisses. He has a whole room dedicated for you to use when you transform, it’s a cushy room with all the necessities your little doggy heart could ever want. Does he adore it? Yep, he loves it and often has you sleep on his bed when you transform.

———————————————————————-

1950s Househusband (yes, it he is a yan); He was surprised, his cute next door neighbor is a werewolf? He didn’t expect that, but he doesn’t mind. He’a actually quite happy to learn such a secret about you, he’s even more gleeful to learn that your trust him enough with this information. When you do transform, he goes out of his way to take care of you. He’ll pat your head, rub your belly, brush your fur and fed you gourmet meals. Although, he does get a bit upset when you jump on the furniture and shed your fur. He even scolds you, although he doesn’t mean anything when he says it. Does he adore it? Not initially, he was a bit turned off by it (he’s not a big fan of furry animals that shed), but he grew to appreciate that quirky trait or yours. Now he has no qualms about coming over and helping you through the whole process, although he has to work extra hard to keep his spouse from finding out about it.

———————————————————————

Yan fickle ex-boyfriend; He wants nothing to do with you, sure he says he loves you, but he won’t be there if you need him during the transformation. However, if you do transform in front of him and you won’t let him leave (for whatever reason, maybe you’re extra possessive in wolf form or maybe you’re scared he’ll reveal your secret), and he has no choice but to take care of you, then he’ll do it. Reluctantly he’ll take care of you, but only because there’s a chance you can bite his hand off and he doesn’t want that. However, when you’re back to normal, he’ll go back to trying  to get revenge on you. (He won’t use your wolf form against you, because no one’s going to believe him.) Foes he adore it? Not really, he doesn’t care for you and only bothers you because he has control issues.

———————————————————————

Yan Darling; He thinks it’s a cute bonus, he likes to braid your fur and put you in cute dog clothes. When you transform he won’t let anything make you uncomfortable and will only give you the best. After all, you’re his savior and he wants you to know how much he appreciates everything you do. He’ll have you sleep in his bed and he’ll take you on walks. Of course, he pouts when you turn back to normal, mostly because he doesn’t get to dote on you anymore (human you doesn’t like any extra attention). Does he adore it? Absolutely, he loves it and if he had his way, he’d keep you like that for a longer amount of time!

———————————————————————-

As for a Yan made specifically for a werewolf reader, well it would have to be a Yan that’s into a werewolf reader. It’d have to be a Yan that’s into the supernatural and would absolutely utterly adore having a werewolf lover. Especially if you spent all your transformation with him and every other wolf related moment with him. A Yan that’s into the supernatural would probably go out of their way to please a werewolf reader. The Yan would probably gift you collars, dog toys, Gourmet food and everything a little (large) wolf dog would enjoy!

———————————————————————-

Bonus; What the Yans would call werewolf reader;

Yan Crossdresser; would call you my adorable furry little/giant baby and give you ear scratches

Yan Neko; would snarl and call you a filthy disgusting pathetic little mutt then start a fight with you 

Yan Idol; would call you my cute little wolf, but wouldn’t go near you

Yan Baby-sitter; My wonderful/adorable furbaby and would attempt to hug you only for you to growl at him

Yan Cheater; calls you a bad dog when you misbehave and calls you a good dog when you behave

Yan Reader; would never be able to call you anything, but if he could then he’d call you my cute fuzzy friend

Yan Roommate; would call you my big fuzzy baby (even though you aren’t one)

Yan Neighbor; would call you a nuisance dog and lament about the fur your shedding

Yan Emperor; would call you my cute little mutt and my adorable little angel, my strong little furbaby and would just generally call you a good wolf

Yan Duke; would probably call you a good doggo, would also call you my favorite little buddy and my cute cuddly little mutt

1950s Househusband; would also call you a good dog when you behave and a bad dog when you misbehave, but would also call you the cutest wolf in existence 

Yan fickle ex-boyfriend; would simply call you a mutt and get mad at you because you tore up his favorite pillow

Yan Darling; would call you his biggest baby and would call you a furbaby, if he’s mad he’ll call you a bad wolf and lecture you about being on your best behavior

Yan Fan of the Supernatural; would call you the cutest wolf ever and would try to domesticate you every time they saw you

———————————————————————

(Yes, the Yans are intent on domesticating you and yes they do have a dog bowl with your name on it.)

(I hope this fit your request and I apologize if it wasn’t very well written.)

(Hope you enjoyed this, it took me like 3-4 hours to write and I’m kind of proud of it.)

(Anthony wasn’t here and Samuel wasn’t here because they aren’t technically yanderes.)

[lovebvni]

Pink Pick-A-Pile (from 08.28.2022)

LMFAOOA IDK WHY I USED THIS PICTURE!!

but before reading, please realize when i made this, i was in a My Hero Academia reality shifting community. Currently, I am no active there, so if you find these posts,,, yes they were me. LMFAOOAOAO and some of this blog has been edited for my sanity.

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[ 🖊 ] created ⋮ 27.8.22

[  ] published ⋮  27.8.22

˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ ꒰ ⌨ ✰ Arsyn   ⋆  ⁱˢ ᵗʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ··· ꒱ | ೃ࿔₊•

┊       ⋆     welcome to my blog !

┊     °

hi lovelies!! changing what i did last time for a pick a pile, im going to be doing a more motivational one!

by no means does it mean im going to be all nice, im just going to praise you and all that you and all you’re doing. its just gonna be less about WHAT and more about HOW you can change it and also motivating you to do more/what other things you can do to help you shift faster (if you’re still working to your first attempt) or how you can positively change your shifting journey. also you guys know i can be kind of blunt and then the alice in wonderland tarot is BRUTAL but im using the White Numen deck this time (which honestly is my nsfw deck LFMAJSUHNTE BUT I WANT AN EXCUSE TO USE THEM FOR A PICK A PILE!!!)

breathe in...

and out...

now please, pick a pile or two

Pile 1

Hello pile 1 and welcome to your reading!!

confirmation for this pile: 1111, angel numbers, reunions, supernatural dr, stability, not changing ‘im not seeing results’, pisces, water signs, christmas/yule, holidays, “its just out my reach”, unstable perspectives, cows, animals, outdoors

cards: the hanged man, knight of cups (r), six of wands, ace of swords

not even gonna lie, at first i got 11 cards.., i shuffled the 11 i got to make this pile smaller so i dont drain myself during the first pile jaoishtioeh

this pile is in either a state of waiting or a state of wanting change. you’re waiting for it and you’re working on it but its almost tiring? maybe you’re loosing the hope, motivation, the fire under your ass because of this waiting. i just remember that one blog that said that sometimes shifting is like a waiting game, i feel like thats the place you guys are right now.

in the kindest way possible, your emotions are out of wack. i feel a lot of stress, anger, hurt and just instability in emotions. maybe doing shadow work, vent art, sharing your feelings, poetry, etc. dont avoid these feelings because once you confront them and move on with life, it will be much easier.

again with being creative and venting in a not natural (?) way, ace of swords and six of wands is kinda like a ‘yeah do this.’ a nod in the right direction. being creative and changing the way you develop and think about things will help you a lot. you got this babes! you’ll get the big change you want when you start thinking outside the box. dont do the things you always used to do, but change the way you approach them and how you look at things. glass half full not half empty.

thank you pile one! i hope this resonates!! 

Pile 2

hello pile 2! and welcome to your pile

heres confirmation:  burning bridges, coming to an end, breaking negative cycles, “i know how it is”, not trustworthy, being pissed off and arrogant, 555, spiritual connection (soulmates, twin flames, etc), 888,666, snakes

cards: Temperance, the hierophant (r), 10 of wands (r), the lovers

okay wow the first thing i have to say is so many major arcana cards - literally i thought the would ALL be major

this pile seems burnt out in a way (no pun intended based on the pile image) and you need to find a way to light your flame again. dont give up, and dont be scared to ask for help. if you’re struggling with spiritual beliefs/shifting/your journey PLEASE ask for help. dont cry in silence. break free from any cycle you’ve been in. cleanse your energy and the energies around you. break ties with people who aren’t helping you in any way. who are negative in your life. hold your ground and speak what you think and know is right. dont let someone else control and manipulate you in any way. be powerful, because you are. you’re in control.

with temperance and the lovers coming out i feel like this is almost why you’re shifting/what keeps moving you to shift. its moving into your god/goddess energy. being that powerful being you are. being assertive and knowing what is right for you. when you’re shifting/thinking about shifting/making an attempt remember why you started. remember your past self and who you want to be in the future, and who you want to surround yourself with. the people? are they different? know how to control and change the situation if you need it. you got this okay? you’ll see who you want to see and be who you want to be.

thank you pile 2! i hope this resonated

Pile 3

hi pile 3!! literally accidently typed 333 so anyways

confirmation: 333, childhood, hello kitty, red, actions speak louder than words but its more about the effect on you life rather than what they did, water, ocean, 555, penguins

cards: five of wands (r), three of pentacles (r), death (r), the chariot, five of wands

okay first things first we have 3 reversed cards and thats like kinda?? because pile 3, accidently typing 333 and three of pentacles?? but lets move on

you’re moving away from hardships and being stuck in your own head and coming to terms and being at peace with your cr/or. you’re letting go of the things that made it bad and accepting them as memories and just things to hold on to and never let go of. more about the people than what they did.

are your goals not written out pile 3 and your true intentions behind them? or are you just not working to them? you may know your goals and not work to them, are you burnt out? take a break then! take care of yourself. you guys are the stubborn time but you need to listen to me when i say TAKE A BREAK ITS FOR THE BETTER! you may even shift on your break. you need to take a moment and be still because it will actually boost you forwards in the long run. sometime taking breaks helps you move forward. being able to take time and relight your candle. this will lead you to a peaceful and good ending. you can see the shore and you’re about to pull up.

honestly five of wands seems out of place to me, i ask spirit to give me cards in a way thats comprehensive and makes sense with the cards near/around it. it represents rivalry, conflict in a way. maybe spirit is saying on this break fix your relationship with someone, stop fighting and going back and forth. hold your ground, agree to disagree, and let go. also shifting isnt a race or competition, so dont rush it or you can get thrown off course.

thank you pile 3! i hope this resonated

Pile 4

confirmation: water, water signs, oceans, harmony, boobies , feet?? IN WATER??, “the universe must have divined this” - dove cameron’s ‘boyfriend’, bo burnham, “i gotta get out of here”, deities, blue, white, red, AMERICA

cards: two of wands, four of cups, six of swords, three of cups

okay so something i noticed right off the bat is there is a LOT of water i mean even in a card that supposedly represents air signs, shes in a boat in the water. anyways you guys are PLANNING unlike the last pile, you guys have a set out plan, goals, and reasoning. now you have a decision to make, are you going to look to external sources or work with yourself? i was called to get an oracle card bc you guys are different.

I got two cards actually, a time to give rather than take, new moon in virgo and a time for healing balsmic moon. so these cards, surprisingly, are saying the same thing. a change is coming, it may seem like its slow but its coming. i promise, and it will be surprising when it happens.

back again to tarot, because i actually only got to one card(!!) you guys are reevaluating and reflecting, i feel like you have been for a while, thinking and dwelling on the things you can change, have changed, and how far you’ve come (NOT GOODBYE BY BO BURNHAM COMING ON IM DONE walks out door ok im back.. but anyways) stop romanizing everything and look at it in worse case scenario vs best case. the best case was already stated, now look at it as the worst thing that can happen. make that like the fuel for your flame and dont let it hold you back, let it drive you forward. this is where six of swords comes in, you ARE moving forward and you will keep moving forward the more you do. you will heal (ORACLE!!) and you are healing. six of swords can also be interpreted as an escape. maybe shifting is an escape for you?

for the last card, 3 of cups is all about harmony, friendships and community.

i know a lot of people (AND I MEAN A LOT OF PEOPLE) have left the MHA shifting community recently, but keep close to the ones you need/have made an impact on you. maybe they’re leaving/have left but yk what you do? ask around. search and find. it reminds me of a bible verse “ask and you shall gain” or something like that. keep close to those who help you, keep the positive in your life not the negative. keep friends close okay? and talk to them, dont let go.

okay pile 4!! thats it, hope this resonated and you have a great day! also little side note, throughout writing this pick a pile i saw the lovers. so that may be important to some of you. im not putting it in confirmation because if you get this far down that means something for you.

[eco-lite]

Finally got to read Volume 6! I didn’t think anything could top Volume 4, but this one is a very close contender for my favorite. Here are my unedited thoughts:

“Sinhalite Beckons, Part 1”

* An extra case first??? Okay then.

* Who is this female version of Seigi? This is hilarious, they’re way too similar!

* Very curious where in the timeline this story takes place…

“The Wandering Conch Pearl”

* WAIT WTF?? That was Seigi’s dream? Did he dream of himself as a woman interacting with Richard in Sri Lanka??????

* Not the milkman omgggg.

* Oooh Richard’s assistant in Hong Kong. That’s probably the sleezy guy he was talking about in the last story. Can Seigi see into other peoples’ pasts now? Didn’t know there was going to be a supernatural element lol.

* “I couldn’t decide if I should serve tea or not, so my brain cells had a meeting and came to the unanimous conclusion not to” (34). I love Seigi so much. 😂

* “I couldn’t stop smiling. Richard thanked me. He said he thought I was dependable. His smile was beautiful enough to start, but boy, a direct hit from his charm sure packed a punch. I was glad he’s withdrawn to the back room, because I was pretty sure my face wasn’t going to go back to normal for a while” (42). Oh, honey… 😌

* Wow, I did not think I would be learning so much about post-WWII politics between Japan and the Dominican Republic from this series, but here we are.

* This conversation between Richard and Seigi from page 62-67 is all over the place. Richard shutting Seigi down when he invites Richard over, but obviously still wanting to let Seigi in. And he ends up asking Seigi to dinner even though he just made the argument that Seigi should go home and go to bed early. And then he gets frustrated that Seigi is being so amenable to going out to dinner with him?? Bro, get your emotions together! You of all people should know that Seigi is not a mind reader. Let him know how you feel, for fuck’s sake!

* “To me, Richard’s beauty was like Mount Fuji at sunrise or the windswept sand dunes in a desert. Anyone else’s beauty was…very human. When I looked at Richard, I felt a mysterious calm, like if I were looking at a lake or the sky or the sea. Normal human features weren’t even in the same category. But if I said any of that out loud, I was pretty sure I’d offend literally everyone” (67). Yes, would would offend literally everyone. You’re learning, Seigi!

* “To have someone look upon the grain of truth hidden within the most tender part of yourself, and tell you their unvarnished opinion of it—I thought that would, without question, be cause for joy” (69). Okay well then you better tell Richard how you feel about having to leave Étranger in the next story, Seigi! Expose that grain of truth!!

“Resplendent Spinel”

* Seigi is really too nice. Filling in for someone in a club where you don’t know any of the other members? Could never be me.

* Ayame describing the “insincere drivel” her boyfriend spouts at her and Seigi’s reaction is “I felt like I was about to go into cardiac arrest” (93). 😅 Is he finally gaining some self-awareness about how ostentatious his compliments of Richard are?

* Ayame: “‘And if you think that a compliment can’t cut as deeply as an insult, you’re terribly naive’” (93). Seigi: “I felt like I’d been sent flying by a body blow” (94). Seigi is really going through it…

* “‘But you are different. Your words are different. When your words brush my face, it’s like a playful wind. With your absurd vocabulary, you are expressly telling me that my appearance brings you joy. It does feel a bit peculiar at times, but perhaps I find that peculiarity oddly endearing, Seigi.’ And then he smiled. I was struck dumb for a while” (96). Holy shit… 😳

* “‘I have a hard time understanding the nature of your love for me. It’s be a great help if you could give me a rundown, as if you were briefing me for a job’” (101). I wish Richard would ask Seigi to do this. But I think Seigi needs to complete his “self assessment” first. He doesn’t even understand the nature of his own love for Richard.

* Wow, Itagaki is actually pretty mature. Good for him.

* “‘Well, I just want you to know there has been a lot of diversity in body type in the industry lately, and I would love you even if you put on a hundred kilos, so don’t overdo it’” (110). It’s really nice to see a male character so adamant that his girlfriend shouldn’t have to worry about losing weight, especially since she’s in the entertainment industry. I hope we see even more diverse body types in Japanese entertainment in the future.

* I hope we get to see this “long talk” they’re going to have in the next story.

“Paraíba Tourmaline Romance”

* Omg Tanimoto is back! And she’s finally meeting Richard!! The two of them ganging up on Seigi is so funny.

* “Once again, it was Seigi Nakata versus the allied forces of Richard and Tanimoto. Honestly, I was probably the happiest if ever been in my life, but I was also just as embarrassed” (135). This is so cute.

* “‘I agree that romance might just be a stone I don’t know yet, but it feels so removed from me—like that planet made from diamonds orbiting a distant star. Maybe I just don’t have the courage for interstellar travel’” (153). This is so ace. I’m so so glad Tanimoto decided to be true to herself and not force herself into a romantic relationship she didn’t actually want. Sometimes you don’t need to experiment. You just know yourself. I’m so proud of her!

* Wow, I really teared up seeing Richard talk about queerness and fluctuations in identity so directly. I’m so happy Tsujimura had the courage to include frank conversations about queer issues. Richard’s perspective here truly is “like a spring breeze rushing through a window that no one remembered opening” (153).

* “‘What really matters is that you never forget that while you possess the potential to change, your present self continues to become your future self… I know it’s hard to decide what choice will be best for you, if I were in your position, I would not think forcing myself into a romantic relationship would be that choice… While dying on your feet is all well and good, one wrong step might make it nothing g more than foolhardy and reckless. And perhaps in the same way, a strategic retreat isn’t running away so much as it is a change of course’” (157). Ace ally Richard is so important to me. This is why he’s my comfort character.

* “‘When Seigi told me about this place, I thought it was a shop run by a foreign man who would show his customers wonderful gemstones. I see it’s actually a shop that provides kindness and comfort to those who see themselves as Étranger’” (158). fUCK.

* I’m so glad Seigi apologized for what he said to Tanimoto at the museum. I know it’s hard for him to let go of the fact that Tanimoto doesn’t feel romantic love since he has a crush on her, but I think he’s more understanding of her feelings now, thanks to the conversation with Richard.

* Omg Seigi and Tanimoto having a mature conversation about why they wouldn’t work out romantically. So nice to see. I think Tanimoto still kind of misunderstood why Seigi wanted to ask her out before, but that’s very on brand for her lol.

* “‘I feel like having you around has made me a better person than I was before’” (173). Richard!!! 💘💘💘

* Tanimoto defending Seigi and telling Richard to never hurt him again! I love her so much!

* I love this story so much! It was great to learn more about Tanimoto’s past and see her finally interact with Richard, who was just so thoughtful here. I can’t believe he felt bad for telling her not to worry about romantic love because he thought it might hurt Seigi. That’s sweet, but I’m glad he was true to himself and what Tanimoto needed to hear in that moment. And Seigi got just a bit more mature, too. I have such intense affection for everyone in this situation. But not Seigi’s father coming to ruin the vibes at the end. 🤬🤬🤬

“The Tanzanite of Rebirth”

* Seigi’s father is such a disgusting manipulator. I always say I want to learn more about Seigi, but learning how awful this man was to him and Hiromi, and how dark Seigi’s thoughts were at that time… How dark they are now… It’s really distressing.

* The fucking tonal shift from this melancholy last dinner together to Jeffrey showing up in the hotel room is so funny. For real though, what did Seigi think would happen when he followed Richard to his room?? 👀 But it’s really concerning that Seigi felt he had no choice but to follow Richard to his room. Obviously that’s Seigi’s extremely negative headspace talking, but please have some self-respect!

* “‘Maybe you’ve forgotten, but I spent a long time stalking you within the realm of what’s legal, of course. Obviously, I’ve repented of my actions—please, God, forgive me for my trespasses. And since I’ve repented, I hope you’ll forgive me for reoffending. It’s plain for anyone to see that something’s been eating at you’” (228). JEFFREY. It’s kind of sweet that Jeffrey has been keeping an eye on Seigi, but did he have to get this intense about it? This kidnapping situation is so chaotic lol. That is his style, though.

* “‘Why do you treat me like some rock on the side of the road? What do you think I am? A doll that’s not good for anything but being on display? I’ve been on this Earth longer than you have. I possess more knowledge than you, and I have enough free time to be able to afford to spend some on you. And yet you had the audacity to try to abandon me and walk off into the darkness. It’s beyond asinine and irrational’” (230). YOU TELL HIM, RICHARD! (Not to even mention Richard told Seigi he loves him just before this rant.) But I feel like Seigi could have said this exact speech when Richard ran away to England before. They both feel that the other should rely on them more, but wouldn’t want to be a burden. After the England debacle, Richard learned that it’s okay to rely on people who love you. Now Seigi has to learn that lesson too.

* “There was a large dam inside my heart, and what it was holding back wasn’t water but sludge. And I didn’t want any of that getting on Richard. It’s the sort of thing that you let out into a drainage ditch in secret” (232-233). Oh, honey, no. First of all, Richard is a human being who loves you and can withstand hearing bad things. You’re not tainting him. He’s asking you to trust him with this. Second of all, please go to therapy…

* It’s really concerning to see how Seigi thinks of himself as having the potential for violence against people he loves. It’s really common for witnesses of domestic abuse to think that way, but it’s so clear in Seigi’s actions that he could never do that. He has such a good heart. But he’s really clouded by dark thoughts from interacting with his father. It’s not like he was thinking this when he wanted to date Tanimoto. These thoughts resurfaced very recently. Thankfully Richard has done enough self-reflection to throw his own situation in Seigi’s face to show him how ridiculous he’s being.

* “‘You don’t think of me as normal or expected. You don’t think of me as tangible, something that is always by your side. That is why I remain someone distant and unreachable to you… You never attempt to close the distance between us. And you never allow me to pay your price, the affection, you are worth’” (243-244). Wow. This reflective Richard is extremely powerful…

* “The moment I realized that he had been watching over me and accepting me for who I was on a much deeper level than I could even have imagined, I felt like I’d been tossed into the middle of the ocean—it was salty, and I struggled to breathe. I was such a loser, such a thoughtless person, a timid child crying in the dark with his knees held tightly to his chest, and yet it felt like he took it all in and said that it was fine. But it wasn’t just a feeling, he believed in me, more than I could ever believe” (247-248). Yes, Seigi, that’s what you do when you love someone. You did the same for him.

* Omg punk Jeffrey?! I wish I could see all those photos Richard keeps as blackmail. 😂

* I’m glad Richard brought up “what floor?” Seriously, Seigi not feeling able to reject him was scary. For both of them, I think.

* Seigi’s stepdad is an absolute legend! King of positive masculinity! “‘I don’t think being strong or not has anything to do with whether you’re okay’” (272). Fuck yes. Hiromi did so well marrying this man.

* “‘I don’t want an apology, I want you to reflect on your behavior. I imagine you understand this by now, but your number-one assignment at the moment is learning to value yourself more’” (274). The fact Richard is able to say this to Seigi is a reflection of his own growth as well. I’m so glad they’re in each other’s lives. They make each other better. 🥹

* Seigi trying to tell Richard he wants to keep being around him even if he doesn’t work at Étranger anymore but it keeps coming out likes he’s proposing or asking him on a date. I think his first statement was the truest to how he feels: ‘“I want to be by your side from now on, if you’ll let me’” (280). I think Richard was ready to accept that as a proposal until Seigi made a bunch of qualifying statements lol.

* Wow, this story means so much to me. Everything that came out of Richard’s mouth was something both Seigi and I (and so many other people, I’m sure) needed to hear. Their relationship got so much deeper. And I can’t wait to see what shenanigans Seigi gets up to in this hotel lol. Especially if Richard is staying there as well. Very excited for the next volume. This one had better come out on time! 😤

“Sinhalite Beckons, Part 2”

* OKAY this is wild! I swear to god the person on the motorcycle in part 1 is Richard, but it seems to be Seigi now???? And he and Richard seem to live together in this nice house in Sri Lanka???????

* Omg she’s the sister of the airport lady from “Flourite By Your Side!” 😲 Glad she’s feeling better!

* Okay so it’s been three years? And there are pictures of the shop in Ginza and their families on the coffee table?? This is so fucking domestic. Is this their future???

* It’s refreshing to see someone call Seigi attractive for once! RIP Keiko’s love life though lol.

* “‘But you know, you really surprised me. You speak textbook-perfect English, but your Japanese sounds like someone from a local convenience store.’ I told him I thought is was a very interesting gap, and he smiled bashfully. ‘He always tells me that—“At this point, the language you might be the least eloquent in might be Japanese.” It is the one language he didn’t teach me, after all’” (301). This is so funny. And it’s making more sense why I thought Seigi was actually Richard in the first part. I can’t believe Seigi speaks English with a British accent! 😂

* Lol once again somebody’s first assumption is that Seigi and Richard are a couple, and it’s still not hard to see why. Love that Keiko immediately asked Seigi out after learning they’re not together, though. You go, girl! But Seigi’s heart belongs to someone else, huh? For real, please tell me he knows it’s Richard at this point!

* I find it so interesting that Tsujimura decided to show us this glimpse of Seigi and Richard’s future. What was the purpose?? It’s a fun and cute story, but not very satisfying if you’re routing for them to get together. And it weirdly feels like an ending even though I know there are at least two more volumes after this…

“Afterward”

* This isn’t a story but I need to record my reaction to the sentence “the first part of the story has now come to a close with Volume 6—though there is still more to tell.” 😲😲😲 Okay, I didn’t realize this story was in parts! Maybe “Sinhalite Beckons” is a way to transition into this new future chapter of Seigi and Richard’s life. 🤔

* Tsujimura actually knows a jeweler who taught them how to make royal milk tea lol. That’s adorable. They do say to write why you know.

* “It would make me very happy if you would keep me company on their journey for a little while.” Tsujimura, I am with you for the long haul. 🫡 Let’s do this!