#been facing some conflicts as of late due to them all getting old enough to start having aspirations outside of their team

[arolesbianism]

I recently decided to semi revive some of my crusty dusty splatoon ocs from when I was like 12, so here’s all of the goobers! Meet Cherry (she/her), Slosh (he/they), Egg (they/them), and Blast (she/they)

[moralesmilesanhour]

Heyy, how ya doing? I wanted to make a platonic request with Miles and a black female reader who have been best friends since preschool, and usually they both don't argue but lately the reader has been going through some things and tries to go to Miles for advice or comfort but he's always so busy with being Spiderman. One day Miles gets upset and confused when the reader makes a negative comment towards him which leads to an argument and the reader asking him, "where were you when I needed you the most?!". What would they both do to make up after this?

This was definitely a new challenge to write as I'm not exactly accustomed to writing conflict. I had a lot of fun! (Or as much fun as you can have writing angst lol)

Out of habit, you pick up your phone and check the long line of texts left unanswered. Then three dots appear, and your stomach jumps.

“Wanna hang out at your place? I’ll bring pizza,” the text read. All you can hear is the thumping of your own heart, and you gnaw on your bottom lip while your fingers hover over the little keyboard.

yes | ok | sorry

“ok,”  you reply, opting for the reply that was easiest to reach.

Hardly ten minutes pass before you hear an elaborate rhythm being tapped out on your front door, and some part of you feels irritated that it only took ten minutes. Shaking the thought away before it can ruin your night, you get up to let Miles in.

“Hey!” you grin at your friend with tired eyes.

Miles throws back a “‘sup?”, as he preoccupies himself with hauling the two boxes of pizza he'd bought into the living room and setting them both on the table. 

He still has the damn suit on. Lazily hidden beneath a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, like he couldn’t be bothered to put the thing away for even a moment.

“You didn’t have to rush over here,” you comment in spite of yourself, taking a seat on the couch.

“So you wasn’t about to blow my phone up if I didn’t rush over here?” Miles teased.

Something ugly threatens to climb up your throat and leave your mouth, so you swallow to keep it down. It takes nearly all of your energy to keep it from clawing its way back up from your stomach. 

Too tired to come up with a clever quip, “Fair enough,” is all you can say, your expression unreadable.

Concern begins to color Miles’ features and the smile melts away, but he says nothing.

You ever-so-smoothly change the subject, “So, what’s new? You look tired.” 

He’s fucking Spider-Man, of course he’s tired.

“Not much,” Miles answers through a bite of pizza. “Same old shit: Green Goblin, robbery, shoot-out, repeat.”

“Must get annoying.”

“Yeah…” he trails off, without a single bit or pun.

“And you?”

“And me? What about my boring ass?” you attempted to joke. Judging by Miles’ raised eyebrow, it didn’t quite land. 

“I mean, how are those college apps going?”

You had gotten off the phone earlier from a screaming match with your mom because Spelman was too far away, and Princeton was too expensive, and applications were due in a matter of months.

To put it nicely.

“Good.”

“...just good?” 

Oh, now  he wanted to ask questions.

“Yup,” you replied snappily. 

That something clawed its way out of your stomach and lodged itself in your chest, making your breaths short and quick. Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.

 “It's going fine.”

Miles decides to press further, “You alright? You seem really off right now. If you wanna tell me anything–”

“What, so you can dip out the window while I’m talking, then leave my texts on read?” you scoffed. 

You’d let it escape you, and there was nothing you could do now to go back and wipe the hurt expression off of your friend’s face. So you let it sit there, right between the two of you on the couch while the uneaten pizza went cold.

“I can’t always answer you while I’m getting hurled off the fucking Empire State Building,” Miles retorted. 

“But you could swing your black ass over here in ten minutes for some pizza and vibes, right?”

“I’m trying to hang out with you when I can, Y/N!”

 You had both risen to stand in front of the couch.

“You only talk to me to HANG OUT, Miles, that’s the fucking problem!” you finally exploded. Hot tears stung your eyes.

“What even is the fucking problem?!?”

“Where were you when I needed you the most?!?”

Miles fell silent as your words hung in the air. He flopped back down onto the couch with a thud, no fight left in him. 

You didn’t know whether to keep standing or to sit, unable to look to Miles for an answer as a tear escaped and rolled down your cheek before you could catch it. You sniffled to stop the snot from dripping down your nose and embarrassing you further.

“Look, sit down,” Miles sighed. He said it like ‘siddown’, so you knew he was serious this time. He wrapped a long arm around your shoulder, and you let him pull you closer until there was no space left between the two of you. 

You sat in silence like that for a couple minutes. Miles’ thumb rubbed little circles into your arm, just like when you lost your first volleyball game back at Visions Academy. The captain had yelled at you before stalking out of the gymnasium, with the rest of the team full of lanky girls followed closely behind. You could only think about how they all towered over you, and were prettier than you thought you would ever be. Miles saw your lone figure sitting on the bench and immediately left his front-row seat in the bleachers. You heard his sneakers squeak across the floor as he bounded over to you to wrap you in a warm hug. 

“I’m sorry,” present-day Miles breaks the silence. You open your mouth to apologize as well, but sobs pour out of you instead, wracking your entire body. He waits until the sobs become labored breaths before he continues. 

“I…don’t really know how I’m supposed to do this.”

“‘This’?” you ask, after a final sniff.

“Being there. While being…” Miles gestures towards himself.

You want to give him an answer, a game plan. But for the first time in your life, you draw a blank. So you give him the next best thing:

“Answer me when I text once in a while,” You smile weakly and smack your friend’s arm.

Miles returns the smile and shakes his head.

“I’ll try.”

[stormyoceans]

Girllll this feels like a dream 😭😭😭 I'd love to watch jimmysea in the medical plot 🤌🏻 if you're looking for feedback tho, I think it would be nice if you could also add the romance storyline? If not for every couple, only for jimmysea. Only if it's not too much stress babe, I hope your main focus is having fun in this project 💜

ALL FEEDBACKS ARE MORE THAN WELCOME ESPECIALLY SINCE I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IM DOING ;;;;;;;;;

i actually have so much material about this particular plot that i had no idea how to go about putting it down in a coherent way, so in the end i tried to write the kind of summary you would find on MDL, but i realize that without the romance part it's probably not very appealing ;;;;;;;;

im still not sure of how to make sense of everything i have in my head so im just gonna share my very messy notes about jimmysea's characters and their relationship (only them for now because if i did it for everyone we would be here for a really long time ;;;;;;;). here we go!!!!

sea: a bright young man who always has a smile on his face and seems to have no worries in the world. his happy-go-lucky personality and the fact that everything comes easy to him can make him come off as a bit arrogant, but he's actually surprisingly observant and caring. when he was 17 years old, his father died in the ER after a car accident, and because the other party involved was a boy from a wealthy family, sea has been convinced ever since that his father's death was due to the doctors choosing to prioritize the boy even if his condition was less severe. this loss inspired sea to study medicine to make sure that what happened to his father didn't happen to anyone else, but it also made him resentful, which is why he struggles to respect the hospital rules. this often puts him in conflict with earth, who thinks sea's natural talent isn't enough to justify his lack of discipline.

jimmy: the only medical student to have completed his specialization under the mentorship of jane's father and to have actually earned his respect, jimmy is now one of the most renowned surgeon in the country despite his young age. his charming and gentle personality makes him be liked and respected by everyone, but his workaholism has earned him the nickname of 'the ghost of [insert name] hospital', as he seems to hardly ever leave the place. after being left at the altar by the woman he loved, jimmy has given up on relationships entirely, throwing himself into work and constantly trying to dodge his sister's attempts to set him up with someone. his walls however start to slowly crumble under the power of sea's smile and small caring gestures.

basically on one of jimmy's usual late night at the hospital, he wonders into pediatric to discuss a case with mix and finds sea reading a bed time story to a small group of children. just like jimmy, sea too seems to be reticent to go home, so night after night they end up keeping each other company and spending more and more time together. at first it's just the two of them working in the same room, jimmy doing paperwork and sea studying for his upcoming medical exams, but eventually sea manages to coax him out of the hospital, first by taking him out to eat and then by taking him to sea's favorite places around town. sea is also full of small caring gestures that make jimmy's heart tremble: he leaves jimmy's favorite coffee on his desk for him to find after a particular rough night, he forces jimmy to take a break and get some rest, he cuts fruits for jimmy and is mindful of everything that has to do with jimmy's hands. as they get closer tho, jimmy also realizes that there's a lot more behind sea's smile than it first appears: sea's mother never quite recovered from the loss of her husband, and after three years from his death she started developing sever dementia, to the point she can no longer recognize sea and sometimes even mistakes him for her husband when sea smiles

in my head their relationship is a very slow burn as they help each other heal but also as they try to reconcile their feelings with the fact that they're still a mentor and an intern. earth is also jimmy's best friend and at first he very much does not approve of how close jimmy and sea became, but eventually he comes around

THIS IS MORE OR LESS IT IM SHUTTING UP NOW BYE

[aspiringroleplays]

@nevertem has once again unwittingly awakened plot so here we go

The truth was.... Sora had just been planning to leave the gift on their doorstop and bounce.

It wasn't that he disliked his maternal grandparents. On the contrary- as the few biological family members he had left, they were near and dear to his heart. Being the ones that had lived nearby, they were the ones Sora had seen most often growing up, and with whom he had the most memories.

The problem was... well... due to certain circumstances, they didn't know the truth about what had happened to Sora in the last four years. And Sora had only learned they didn't hate his guts a few months ago. It left him feeling very conflicted. He didn't realize it until he started planning to actually face them.

He wished he could just tell them the truth. "I'm not human anymore. I travel universes fighting monsters and protecting people from bad guys. You wouldn't believe who I've met!"

But after what happened with his paternal grandparents.... no, it wasn't an option. The best he could do was to give them something, and hope they understood that he cared for them, even if he couldn't see them. But now....

"Play it with whomever you are gifting it to, and tell me how much fun it was."

...Could he even do that anymore?

It was Kairi's mom, aka the ex-mayor, that had given him his grandparent's new number and address. The first few days he had stalled, the thought of hearing their voices making his stomach twist in knots. He thought of giving them a gift and a card, just mailing it to them to try to reconnect, without.... reconnecting.

But now he stared at his phone, "obaa and grampa" staring up at him like some ominous flashing sign. He coudln't do this, there was no way. They'd figure out he was lying and find out what he was, then they'd be horrified and disgusted and call a hunter or a priest or-

He fidgeted, he paced, he walked circles around the newly paved sidewalk, his fears and anxieties climbing higher and higher until he realized there was no way he could do this. He'd just lie and make up some story about how much fun they'd had, and leave it at-

"Sora-kun? Is that you?"

Sora froze and whirled around. It wasn't his grandparents, it was a lone Kin Town citizen that he had met years ago. Of course, he had been working with the military to distribute supplies to the people during that time. Of course they would recognize him, even with a different hair color and style.

"H-hey, Fumi-san!" He greeted, managing to pull up a weak smile. "It's been a while!"

Well.... supposed it was too late now to pretend he was never here.

It was sort of automatic, putting on an act in front of others now. He was so used to lying- to protect his secret, to protect his identity, to protect his family- that he didn't even have to think about it. The story came easy enough, the fake ease and the forced casualness. Even if he felt nauseous, he could fool anyone into thinking he was completely at ease.

Except for a select few, obviously. But they weren't here.

He finally mustered up the courage to call, after a casual conversation with Fumi, knowing that if he didn't do it now, it would definitely be suspicious. "Hi, Obaa! This is Sora. Tanaka-san gave me your number and-"

"Oh, Sora! You haven't called in years, I thought you had forgotten about us! Are you in Japan? How are Harold and Sana-san doing?"

He froze, forcing himself to swallow at the painful casualness of the question. This confirmed it, they really didn't know about what happened. "Ah, I'm not sure, I haven't talked to them in a while."

"That's no good! We old people don't have a lot of time you know! You should talk to all of us as much as possible! I'm sure they miss you very much!"

He ignored the way his heart sunk. "Yeah. I'll talk to them later." He lied. "Anyway, I'm in the area, and wanted to know if you had some time."

Sora had already resigned himself to a night of "acting" to get through with them. To lie about his hair, his eyes, his pale pallor, he had thought of everything to deflect their questions.

But the first thing they had said to him was-

"Sora!" His grandmother, a petite little Japanese woman, who was literally shorter than Sora and hardly looked intimidating at all, looked at him horrified. "Are those piercings?"

Sora gaped at her, remembering too late about the multiple earrings he wore... and the fact that conservative Japan was not as accepting of them as the states. "Um...."

"Don't tell me you've joined a gang!"

"No!" He squeaked. "No, Obaa, it's not like that! This is normal in America!"

"Like hell it is!" His grandfather, an average height but portly and ruddy old Caucasian man harrumphed. "The only men who pierce their ears are punks and rebels! How do you expect to be a pilot with those?!"

"Grampa it's not like when you were there! People think this is cool! I just wanted to be cool!"

"You take those out right now!" His grandmother chided. "What would your mother say?!"

Sora stiffened, already knowing exactly what his mother would say. "I can't believe this. My sweet baby boy, turning to a life of gang violence and crime..."

Sora hung his head, defeated. "I'll take them out."

So they spent the next hour over dinner grilling Sora to see what sort of "illegal activity" he had been taking part in. Did he have tattoos? Did he do drugs? Were those yellow contacts he wore some kind of gang affiliation?! They should never have let him into the states to corrupt their sweet, innocent grandson! After he assured them the most "hardcore substance" he had ingested was rum, they finally let him off the hook.

He couldn't believe the last time he felt so embarrassed.

He finished his dinner in silence, letting his grandmother read the instructions of the game he had brought. He was trying to figure out what he could say that wouldn't reawaken their strict wrath. If he told them he "fought" every other day they would definitely think he was making trouble on the streets.

"It looks like fun." She said, finally putting the paper down. "Thank you, Sora. This will be nice to play for Christmas."

He released the breath he had been holding, relieved that his present at least was well received.

"How long will you be staying?" His grandfather asked.

Sora winced, not sure how to explain his current... "arrangement". "O-oh, um, just a couple days. I just wanted to see how the place was doing."

"I see. That's too bad." he said, finishing up his last bites of food. "But I guess you don't have as much time now."

Sora didn't say anything at first, guilt creeping in as he was reminded how much he was hiding from them. But seeing the opened box of Love Letter, he was reminded that he could at least avoid awkward conversation.

"Hey, um, you guys mind if we try this out tonight? I wanna make sure it's good!" He brought up a strained smile. "If it's boring I'd rather get another one!"

They played, they had fun, and at first Sora thought he'd have to fake his cheer all night to get through the game. But, surprisingly, as they got the hang of it and Sora got more into it, his competitive nature came out. He and his grandfather were the loudest, yelling at each other when they snatched victory, but his grandmother always threw them for a loop, using her normally quiet nature to catch them off guard and steal their wins from under their noses.

Of course they wanted him to spend the night, but he declined, saying he had already paid for the hotel, and didn't want to waste his money (a lie). He bid them goodbye, promising he would come back tomorrow night for another round.

He strolled through the night, hands in his pockets as he looked up at the night sky. The sparse stars were familiar to him, and he felt some relief as he picked out the old constellations of his youth. At least that was one thing that was the same. The same sky...

The tears came before he could stop them, eyes stinging and blurring. He tried to blink them back, wiping his eyes to try to stop them. But the more he tried to stop them the harder they came, until he had to stop walking in order to sob into his sleeves. It wasn't pain that made him cry, but happiness- realizing this relief and joy was something that he could actually experience with blood family, even if only for a short while. For a few hours, he had quite literally forgotten about his past, feeling like everything was fine, and happy. For a few precious hours, Sora actually felt normal.

Sora didn't know how he was going to interact with his childhood home in the future- or even if he'd actually be able to maintain a relationship with his blood family- but at least for now, in this moment, he felt like he had a chance.

[ohnococo]

A Mess | Zeke x F!Reader x Reiner

Summary: You and Zeke sleep together from time to time, even though he knows Reiner has a thing for you. Eventually he decides to do something about it. (MODERN AU)

Warnings: Sleazy Zeke, Sex, Cumshots, Threesome, FWB

MINORS DNI/18+ ONLY UNDER THE CUT

Zeke had this innate ability to just make things messy in a way that favored him perfectly. He’d done it with you - starting out as friends with benefits and progressing that into something a little more shameless that had your whole friend group seeming a little tense about you two potentially dating, knowing none of Zeke’s trysts lasted long. He was doing it again now, albeit this one had been a much slower build up. He’d been stoking this fire from before the two of you had even begun fucking, in fact.

He saw the way Reiner always looked at you, the schoolboy crush he’d harbored from way back when he was, well, an actual schoolboy. Except now he was very much a grown man and was very much still squandering every opportunity he’d had to get with you.

Zeke knew what Reiner was like, what reservations and morals the younger man had that he certainly did not share. When Zeke had finally made the move to kiss you in front of your friends - or rather next to them while you were all on the couch during a movie - Reiner hadn’t been pushed into action. No pulling you aside for a sudden confession of love, or plea to give him a chance. Instead, Reiner seemed to decide that instead of it being now, it was going to be never. The idea of two long-time friends of a close knit group dating was already a bit awkward for everyone, you all were never the type for love triangles and unnecessary drama, there was no way Reiner would add an attempt to date you to that awkwardness. A girl dating one of her old guy friends is one thing, romantic even if it all works out, but a girl dating two - meaning most - of her guy friends leaves a bad impression. That’s what Zeke figured Reiner had reasoned, at least.

Messy bitch that he is though, Zeke decided to test Reiner’s resolve at being the noble martyr, tortured by his unrequited love that was all his own doing. Maybe he would lighten up a bit more too. So Zeke did small things to set the wheels in motion, making plans with the two of you to play a board game or watch a show then finding some excuse to leave suddenly half way through. Pretending to be much more drunk than he is while setting you on Reiner’s lap at a party, exaggeratedly slurring out, “Keep an eye on her while I go piss. She’s a wily one.”

Through it all Reiner was respectful as ever: hands to himself except for sliding you off his lap to take his seat while he stood and waited for Zeke to return, never even entertaining making a move on you. It drove Zeke up a fucking wall, especially when Reiner would end the nights he’d been stranded at your house (while Zeke feigned some sudden need to pick up Eren and drop him off at his dorm) with a text to Zeke at a nauseatingly sensible 9:30.

Reiner: Hey just got home. hope Eren’s didn’t puke in your car again lol

Reiner was big, Reiner was beefy, and Reiner was a fucking coward. Zeke didn’t know why he cared so much. Maybe because he was always trying to show his friends he was better than them in some way or another and Reiner had just taken it on the chin. Maybe it was because he felt a little bad for fucking around with someone who had been a dear friend, he didn’t intend for this to go anywhere after all, and Reiner did really like you. Zeke would never admit it if it was indeed the second one, though, so he just decided to get messier.

It was easy enough with the three of you being the only ones in the group to have the shared interest of board games. So he invited you both over to his place to try out a new game he’d gotten. You and Reiner chalked up Zeke’s smug demeanor to him showing off another overly-complicated board game he’d surely win despite playing it for the first time. Really, it was the undeniable feeling that tonight would be fun keeping Zeke in such high spirits.

One game in - that Zeke won of course - and he’d already managed to coax Reiner into drinking. Just a beer to start the game, then one more to keep it going. He wasn’t getting wasted by any means, not a man his size, but Zeke knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t have a third beer and drive. So while Reiner set the board up to start again, Zeke gave him another beer, clearing the table of old drinks and setting the new one down casually enough that his friend wasn’t even thinking about how he’d get home after finishing off the new drink.

The game went by, Reiner went through another bottle, and as Zeke was satisfied with winning again he decided to bring this part of the evening to a close.

“I’ve had enough of winning for tonight. The two of you will have to have a 1v1 on your own sometime to catch up with me.” Zeke teased, packing away the little pieces.

Reiner is quick to respond, “Pretty cocky for a guy who still can’t win at Sorry.”

Zeke takes the bait, only because he wants Reiner feeling confident for later. “Only because that game is pure luck.”

“Sure it is.” Reiner stands and stretches, grabbing his bottle to put with Zeke’s recycling. “Anyway, I should head out now, it’s getting late.”

“Not after four beers you shouldn’t.” You warn, Zeke can’t hide the way the corners of his mouth turn up, you did always pay awfully close attention to Reiner, didn’t you?

“Shit, you’re right - mind if I stay in your guest bedroom?”

Zeke shrugs, no stranger to having one of his friends crashing at his house, “Go right ahead.”

“Thanks.”

-

Zeke is quick to get you alone, and you only half push him away as he begins kissing at the spot on your neck that has heat building in your stomach as soon as you’re both in his bedroom. He’d made sure to leave his door cracked, and made sure to pick you up and lie you down on the bed before you noticed. As you sigh at his touch he decides he’s waited long enough for the main event, pulling your pants and underwear off in one rough motion and burying his face between your legs.

“Zeke, stop it.” He knows your protests are hollow, your hands coming down to tangle in his hair rather than push him away. His tongue works its way gently but purposefully through your folds, just barely brushing over your clit before working his way back to tease at your entrance. Your moan is only half out before you’re clasping your hands over your mouth, looking down at him and laughing. “At least wait until Reiner’s asleep.”

He smirks up at you and makes a deal, knowing you don’t understand the full extent of it and know he won’t be losing anyway. “If he’s not asleep in ten minutes, that’s his problem.”

You think for a moment, biting your lip, but as he locks his lips around your clit you’re not really in a position to protest as you rock your hips up against his face.

Zeke goes easy on you, sort of, he refrains from sliding his fingers in your tight little hole while he laps at your swollen clit - and he at least listens when you ask him to slow down for a second, giving you the chance to catch your breath and keep yourself from getting to the point where you can’t control the noises you make, but you were still getting steadily louder. The ten minutes go by slowly for the both of you, as Zeke teases at your most sensitive spots, until you’re glistening beneath him. His wait is over as he kisses his way up your body, pulling your shirt up and off as he goes until his lips meet yours.

“It’s time.”

You’re too far gone to pick up that hint of something else in Zeke’s voice as he flips you over so you’re on your stomach facing the door and he’s quickly in place behind you, pulling you onto all fours. You’re too ready for his cock to pay attention to how loud his soft slap on your ass is before he pulls off his pants and rifles through his bedside drawer for a condom. You turn your head to watch him as he slides it on, arching your back so he can get an eyeful of your awaiting pussy. He’s not feeling gentle or merciful tonight, and that doesn’t seem to be what you want anyway as you groan at the feel of his cock stretching you wide as he enters and bottoms out inside of you in one smooth motion.

Zeke knows you’re holding back though, doing your very best to stifle the noises he’s forcing from you as his cock slides against your walls just right, and that’s not what he wants. He slaps your ass again, hard, and you keen before getting a hold of yourself to send him a look of warning over your shoulder.

“You think Reiner’s still awake to listen to how good you sound when I fuck you?” You tighten around him, pussy fluttering at the thought, and that gives Zeke the final push to do just what he’d intended. “Do you want to find out?”

There’s no time to think about the implications of his question, as Zeke wraps his arm around your waist, hoisting you up so your back is pressed to his chest as he sets a brutal pace.

“Reiner!” Zeke’s voice booms, and this time when you’re pussy clenches around him he knows it’s not just due to the pleasure coursing through you. “Reiner, come here!”

“Zeke-”

“Shh…” He brings the hand that was previously gripping your hip tightly up to cup your face, rubbing his thumb over your lips, “He knows what we’re doing. If he doesn’t want to see it he’ll stay in bed.”

You’re blushing, equal measures embarrassed and aroused, and the wait only makes your heart beat faster. A few moments of what was no doubt tortuous conflict passes and you hear the door to the room next to Zeke’s open slowly, followed by another long moment before Zeke’s door is pushed open fully.

“See, I knew you weren’t that much of a coward, Reiner.” Zeke’s voice is straining from how hard he’s fucking you, and how excited he is to have his plan come perfectly together as Reiner locks eyes with you.

He looks you over slowly as none of you speak, watching your tits bounce as you take Zeke, swallowing hard at the sight of your slick dripping down your thighs, ears ringing at the sound of skin on sin. He’s already hard and tenting his boxer briefs, hair already disheveled from tossing and turning in bed as he listened to you try and fail to stay silent. Zeke is happy to let him watch, but he decides he wants him to do something more than just stand there like a lost dog.

“Well?” Reiner is snapped from his daze and looks at Zeke as if he’d only thought about him being there. “Are you going to do something about it?”

Reiner looks at you, and your soft cry of his name thrusts him into motion as he comes to join the two of you on the bed. He cups your face in his hands, kissing you and drinking in your moans as your pussy flutters around Zeke’s cock. Reiner is soft, so soft compared to how hard you’re being fucked, but intense as he groans into your mouth and bites at your bottom lip. He pulls away to breathe, but only for a moment before he’s working his way to your neck to leave all the marks he’d dreamt of gifting you with for years. His hands are quick to find your clit, rubbing soft circles as Zeke continues to work at you from inside, and your hands quickly reach for his cock in turn.

“So big…” you sigh, savoring the feeling of running your hands over his thick cock through his underwear, before pushing them down as far as you can reach with Zeke pulling you into his thrusts. Thankfully, it’s far enough to free Reiner’s cock and you shiver in Zeke’s grasp as it rubs against your stomach while Reiner presses his body to yours. You barely have your fingers wrapped around him before he’s thrusting up into your hand, already groaning, already close - you wonder for a moment if he’d already been touching himself to the sounds of you.

Zeke would guess yes, and can’t help getting his sly little digs in even as the two of you do exactly as he’d intended, “Close already? Good thing I’m here to satisfy her.”

Reiner doesn’t take that easily, working your clit faster and the way your pussy grips Zeke has him hurling closer to the edge right along with you both. Reiner breathes his words into your skin, sending shivers through you again and again, “Cum for me… cum with me…”

You do, and both of your work against each other stutters as you cum together, Reiner painting your stomach as your pussy threatens to undo Zeke right along with you. He holds on, however, fucking you through your orgasm as Reiner thrusts into your hand until the last of his cum is covering your soft skin and the fluttering of your pussy slows.

Zeke pulls out and releases you, sending you forward and into Reiner’s waiting arms as he pulls off his condom and finishes himself off on your ass, adding his mess to the mix as well. Reiner keeps kissing you, rubbing your back, smiling at the way you shiver when Zeke begins rubbing his cum into your skin.

“That was…” Reiner starts, then stops, looking into your eyes and trying to parse what just happened.

Zeke doesn’t want to give him too much time to think, knowing that just leads to more annoyance with Reiner, so instead he lies down, pulling you with him. “The bed’s big enough for three.”

Reiner pauses, still thinking instead of doing, until you’re patting the space on the bed next to you. “C’mon, Reiner, lets get some rest.”

For you, he’ll listen to anything, something Zeke huffs at as you rest your head on his shoulder, and your hand on Reiner’s chest. You’re first to fall asleep, and Reiner lies there staring at you dreamily, finally basking in the moment for once. Then, it’s Zeke’s turn to think, and think too much as he considers just what he might have started. He wasn’t sure what he felt, not quite jealousy… but not victory either. He felt smug, but also like he’d gotten himself in over his head. Maybe he wanted Reiner here for different reasons than he’d originally thought. Maybe he wanted you for different reasons than he’d originally thought too. Zeke closes his eyes and decides everyone’s had enough thinking for the day, deciding to sleep before he dwelled too long on the mess he’d made.

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

[urupotter]

So while I've said before that I don't like the HP subreddit, I still frequent it because occasionally I read something insightful. This is one such case, where I read a reading of Lupin that I'd never seen before in response to a comment of mine analyzing the shrieking shack confrontation between Snape, Remus, Sirius and the golden trio, where I mentioned that Lupin was a gaslighter so I wanted to share. It was created by reddit user u/UsuallySiSometimesNo and is posted here with his permission. We had a little conversation in the comments. Read it under the cut

UsuallySiSometimesNo: That struck a cord with me, too. I didn't think about that on a conscious level before, but when I read it, it felt instantly true.

Honestly, I think the strongest examples of Lupin gaslighting are actually done to himself. The biggest, character-defining example, I think, is that after finding friendship with James, Sirius, and Peter, he becomes so desperate not to be ostracized from them (due to his issues of self-worth and his personal brand of impostor syndrome) that he deliberately and routinely feeds himself false narratives about their behavior until he can no longer tell fact from fiction, even as he's experiencing it.

Their relentless bullying of Snape? A childhood rivalry.

Their casual bullying of other students? Kids being young and stupid.

Their clear disinterest verging on contempt for Peter, someone less fortunate and vulnerable with whom they're supposed to be good friends? Just mates being mates.

Even actions taken against Lupin, himself, are revised in his memory to be 'no big deal', because he desperately needs that to be true. Let's pretend for a moment that Snape indisputably deserved to be slaughtered by a werewolf the night Sirius told him how to get past the Whomping Willow. Sirius did not send Snape to be killed by any old werewolf. What happened that night was that Sirius - one of Remus' best friends, if not his actual best friend - attempted to use Remus' curse/illness against someone (which is a big enough betrayal on it's own) without ever telling Remus that when he woke up in the morning (covered in blood and in the presence of a shredded corpse) it would be to find that he had committed the act he was most petrified he might one day commit. In setting Snape up to be killed by Lupin, Sirius, at the very least, risked Lupin's sanity, and, at the very most, risked Lupin being sentenced to death.

Now, I understand that Sirius wasn't thinking about all of that when he did what he did, and I, as a someone removed from the situation (and armed with the additional character/situational knowledge granted to a reader) can even understand why Sirius' own trauma led him to grant such a blind death sentence to Snape (which I think is related to a point you made elsewhere, u/Adventure_Time_Snail, about Sirius' "violence towards those who trigger his fundamental fear of wizard fascists" because of his abusive upbringing). But Lupin's perspective is not one of an unbiased observer. And once James found out what was happening and pulled Snape back before it was too late (which, I would think, was more to save Lupin than to save Snape) and once Remus awoke the next to day to discover everything that transpired the night before, I find it hard to believe there wasn't at least some conversation about the true gravity of the situation. And yet, even all these years later, Lupin doesn't bat an eye when Sirius not only doesn't display shame when the event is mentioned in POA, but offers something akin to regret, NOT at the fact that his actions could have gotten Lupin killed, but that that they DIDN'T get Snape killed: "It served him right...", he sneered. etc. etc.

I think the obvious question here, is 'Even disregarding what Sirius did to Snape - how can Lupin be okay with the knowledge that Sirius has no regret, at all, for what he did to him, even now that they're adults?' Well, we're not in Lupin's point of view in the books, which means we can't hear his internal monologue, but I think a satisfactory answer to the question is that he's done a substantial amount of internal gymnastics in order to get to a point where he doesn't see this as a big deal, or even as something that he has a right to be upset about.... just like a gaslighter does to their victim.

Again, because we're not in Lupin's POV, we can't point to the exact instances that such internal gaslighting took place, but, based on what we do observe from Harry's POV (and based on external knowledge of gaslighting as a true-to-life concept) I wouldn't be surprised if Lupin so desperately needs everything to be okay that he derides himself for feeling bad or betrayed, that he calls himself stupid for thinking terrible things that have happened to him are a big deal, that he wars with himself about how people who are his friends and who are so good to him and who are better friends than he thinks he deserves could possibly do something to harm him/others, and that he beats down whatever emotions and senses and gut feelings he has that tells him something his friends have done might be very wrong. What we see in the books is a man who makes excuses for his friends and harbors a warped perception of reality in much the same way victims of gaslighting do, and he seems to exploit his own insecurities in order to instill doubt in his own experiences in much the same way perpetrators of gaslighting do.

I can't help but think that, by the time Lupin tells Harry that Snape harbors a particularly strong hatred for James because James was a better Quidditch player, Lupin has become so adept at gaslighting himself that he actually believes it.

tl;dr: One of Lupin's defining characteristics is that he gaslights himself out of a desperate need to be liked by others, since he has a difficult time liking himself and seems to believe all of his relationships are incredibly fragile.

Urupotter:

This is a fascinating reading on Lupin that I've never seen. I don't read him the same way, in that I think Lupin actually does know that what he's doing is wrong, he just doesn't have the moral courage to act on his conscience. (I view him as the anti Snape, great conscience, but abysmal moral courage, while Snape had unbelievable moral courage but a shitty conscience. Their arcs are about growing their moral courage and their conscience respectively) Realizing that his negligence almost got Harry killed is what triggers his arc, concluding when he goes back to Tonks and Teddy after running away, taking responsibility for his actions for the first time.

But this reading is so interesting that I'll have to reflect on it. Do you mind if I post it on my Harry Potter tumblr blog? I'll credit you of course, I would just like to discuss it with my followers. Of course if you don't want to I won't.

UsuallySiSometimesNo:

Honestly, I think the lack of in-depth conversation about Remus Lupin (at least compared to fan favorites Sirius Black and Severus Snape) is a missed opportunity and a shame. Don't get me wrong, I can discuss Sirius and Snape until blue in the face, but Lupin's arc is just as powerful in an understated (and often underestimated) way. The muddy, oversimplified truth is, without the fatal-flaw decision making of all four Marauders throughout their lives, the series of events proceeding the first chapter of the first book don't happen, and the story we all know and love never comes to be.

And speaking of sparking a discussion about Lupin...

I think Lupin actually does know that what he's doing is wrong, he just doesn't have the moral courage to act on his conscience.

You know what? I agree. And that's what makes him so interesting, I think. He is constantly and dependably full to bursting with internal conflict. When his friends are wrong/do something wrong/say something wrong, he can and does immediately identify the situation as wrong. When he does something wrong, or when he does nothing in the face of something wrong, in that moment I believe he knows the full weight of the situation. Like you said, he has a strong conscience, as well as a deeper, perhaps more nuanced understanding of right and wrong than do, for example, James and Sirius. Now, Lupin needs his friends. They're not just people to hang out with, they're a lifeline for him. He's not going to engage in conflict with them if there is even the slightest chance that he might lose them (for a variety of reasons, he lacks, as you said, the moral courage to do so). But he's also a generally decent human being, and with a strong conscience comes the capacity for sincere guilt and remorse. So, not only will he not confront his friends, he needs it to be okay that he doesn't confront them. And it's at that point that I think the self gaslighting is triggered.

But Lupin is intelligent and nobody's fool, so the gaslighting creates only a thin layer of ice over the problem. Just enough of a cover that he can live with the things he would otherwise deeply regret. I do think he believes the alternative reality he makes for himself to be accurate as long as it isn't really challenged. Crack the ice, though, and we see him express remorse and reveal an underlying awareness of past and present truths. But then the moment is over, and the war between the uncomfortably and full weight of the truth and his need for the companionship of his friends returns, and then the gaslighting begins again, allowing him an easier return to his closest friends (and eventually his closest friend, singular, after the others have been taken from him as was his fear all along) without conflict and with minimal strain on his conscience.

Once Sirius, the last of his original chosen family is gone - truly gone, as opposed to 'located elsewhere' as he was when in prison - following OOtP, suddenly Lupin's arc takes off at a greater speed than at any point prior. He's now literally lost all of the people he'd been terrified of figuratively losing. Although there are still people and things he cares about, he isn't as dependent on any of them as he was on those foundational friendships, and the finality of their absence allows him to finally grow beyond his stifling cycle of reality shifting, confront the truths of his reality and his circumstances, and, as you said, finally take responsibility by returning to Tonks and Teddy - a decision that, ultimately, triggers his death (I don't mean to imply that it was a bad decision or that it's the sole cause of his death, but Rowling has said that being 'out of practice' contributed to his loss at the Battle of Hogwarts, which makes for a fantastic tragedy).

I don't mean to overstate the importance of this theory or imply that it's always present when he's on-stage, and, as with anyone, many other elements, of course, factor into his actions/words/motives. But I think it's a fascinating potential component of his character all the same. If you have more thoughts on this, I love to hear them - and I look forward to reading the discussion on your blog!

So what do you think? Is this a valid reading of Lupin? I'd say it is, but I'm interested in reading my followers thoughts!

[lancermylove]

Geostigma (Oneshot)

Fandom: FFVII

Pairing: Rufus x fem!Reader

Warning: None

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: Ff7 Rufus oneshot request please!!! ACRufus with geostigma. He was once high and mighty but now is a hot shot president who’s fallen from grace. He’s really sick with geostigma (not terminally but needs to act like it is). Scenario of the girl he’s been secretly pining over volunteering at the recovery unit he’s staying at. He’s super conflicted because he wants to talk to her but at the same time doesn’t want her to see him like this. He also doesn’t want to expose his identity as shinras president and doesn’t want to lie to her pretending to be terminally ill with geostigma even though he is legimately suffering from it. What do you think??? Hope this works and makes sense!!! All good if you can’t do it though!!!

A/N: Anon, this was one of the most challenging pieces I’ve written. Keeping Rufus in character while showing his soft side was an enjoyable challenge, so tysm for sending in this request! 😁 I really hope you like it~. 

Word Count: 1967

———————————————

In this place, status didn't matter - the rich, poor, females, males, old, young, and kids were all suffering in equal agony. The stigma didn't discriminate. Shinra had grown tired of seeing the same view every day. White walls, white beds, white machines - who chose this design? He couldn't have been more thankful for the hooded cloak, as the darkness had never felt so comforting. For the longest time, the president only saw the world in two colors, white of the recovery bay and black within his hood. That is until you came around and added color to his colorless world.

After losing a dear friend to the stigma, you became a volunteer at that facility. You had seen your friend suffering and wanted to help others, even if it means only making them smile. Though that may not seem much, you knew a smile meant the world to a person who was suffering. For the longest time, Rufus watched you, curious as to why you wanted to volunteer, considering most volunteers were older men or women and military personnel. You seemed like nothing less than a rose in the middle of a battlefield.

Slowly, he noticed the change in the recovery bay - the atmosphere seemed a lot brighter, even more so than the blinding whiteness of the room. Was it your effect? You brought thoughtful gifts for your patients, made them feel comfortable, and gave them the energy to push through their pain. Were people really like this or were you just an angel?

In Shinra's world, the word kindness didn't exist. His father taught him to control the world with money, but he changed money to fear. After observing you, he realized that even kindness could control the emotions of people. The blond-haired man chuckled to himself - what a twisted way to look at a positive emotion. He was sure if you heard his thoughts, you would hate him.

"Hm?" Shinra was surprised at his revelation. Why did he care what you thought about him? Never once in his life had he cared for what people thought about him - had he cared, he would not have committed such nefarious deeds. How peculiar.

That night as everyone slept, Shinra pushed his wheelchair to the only window in the large room. Though there were no visible stars, the moon shone proudly through a veil of ominous clouds. Rufus wasn't sure why he was having such a difficult time sleeping. Was it the constant throbbing from the infected area, or was it due to the heavy yet sweet pain weighing down on his chest?

"You are still awake?" He heard a shaky voice coming from the bed on his right. The voice belonged to the oldest patient in the room - the man that didn't much time left in this accursed world. 

Shinra didn't reply, prompting the man to continue talking, "Seems like something is bothering you."

"Tell me, have you felt an indescribable feeling that is troublesome yet pleasant?"

The elderly man laughed softly and turned his body towards the wheelchair, "That feeling is generally associated with love."

"I don't have the luxury to love," his dry chuckle echoed inside his hood. "I hail from a world where I am cursed to sit on a throne, surrounded by naught by darkness."

"Child, no one lives in a world like that."

Shinra turned his head slightly in the direction of the man and said, "You would not say such words if you knew my identity."

"You are Rufus Shinra," the old man mumbled under his breath, not wanting any prying ears to hear. "I never agreed with your methods or ways. I also blame your company for harming the Lifestream as well as the people."

He paused for a moment and exhaled softly, "Sitting on a lonely throne surrounded by the dark was your choice. The only way to get rid of the darkness is to open the curtain and let the light flood inside. Take some advice from an experienced old man: love while you have the chance. I know this sounds cliche, but there is nothing better than being with the person you love. Nothing will bring you more joy, not money, manipulation, and sitting on an expensive throne."

"Seems as though you have loved before."

The white-haired man closed his eyes and forced a smile, "I did but never told her. I left gifts and notes for her, and by the time I gathered enough courage, it was too late. She was engaged to someone else."

Shinra didn't need to look at the man to know he was in pain. Another sigh escaped his quivering lips as the he continued his tale, "I eventually got married and was lucky to have a kind wife. Though I learned to love her, I was not able to fully give my heart to her. That is the only regret I have. If only I could tell her how I felt about her..."

"Where is she?" Rufus asked, unsure as to why he was interested in the man's story.

"Somewhere far away," he promptly replied and changed the topic. "Mr. President, give that young woman you love a chance. Even if she rejects you, you won't regret hiding your feeling."

"Would any woman wish to be with a man in my current state?"

"She won't mind, especially if you manage to win her heart. Besides, she is a kind woman, and if she was the type to judge, then she would not be here helping us," he chuckled, knowingly.

Shinra laughed, not caring if his voice woke the others, "You are quite a sharp man."

The old male grinned, "Now, get some rest, and let this aged man sleep."

The following day, as Rufus debated whether or not to tell you, he heard rushing footsteps of the doctors and nurses. Within a few minutes, numerous people gathered around the elderly man's bed - the same man he had a conversation with the previous night. Silence filled the entire room, except for the occasional beeping of the heart monitors.

Shinra watched from under his hood as one of the doctors pulled a white sheet over the man's face before transporting his body out on a stretcher.

"Rest well, old man," he whispered, letting the words disappear into the darkness of his hood.

You dragged yourself into the room with a heavy heart. It didn't take a genius to deduce the reason behind your downcast mood. Rufus quietly watched you trying your best to smile and cheer up the other patients. When you came to check on him, he observed you for a moment before taking hold of your hand. "It's alright to be sad."

You stared at him speechlessly, not only surprised that he saw through your façade but also because this was the first time he spoke to you. Averting your eyes, you whispered in a drained voice, "I can't let the others see me sad."

"I care not for the others...only you."

Your eyes widened by his unexpected words. "W-Why?"

Rufus stayed silent for a bit as he recalled his conversation with the old man.

"Mr. President, give that young woman you love a chance. Even if she rejects you, you won't regret hiding your feeling."

"Would any woman wish to be with a man in my current state?"

"She won't mind, especially if you manage to win her heart. Besides, she is a kind woman, and if she was the type to judge, then she would not be here helping us."

"I have never felt such emotions, nor have I used such words, but," he whispered gently, surprising himself, "I have not met an angel before, but now, I know what an angel would look like. I wish the angel would learn to be selfish though and think about herself once in a while."

A giggle escaped your lips, "Mister, are you flirting with you, or do you like me?"

Shinra chuckled, keeping his head down as to prevent you from seeing his face, "I am merely trying to get you to smile, and it seemed to work. Also, I do not have the luxury to like anyone."

"Why do you say that?" You asked, confused.

"You would not be asking me such a question if you knew my identity."

"Rufus Shinra? The president of the Shinra Electric Power Company?"

Rufus was speechless, an occurrence that didn’t happen often. You gently squeezed his hand to get his attention and asked once again, "Why don't you have the luxury to love?"

"Miss, take a look around you. The Shinras are responsible for this - first my father, then I. Though I possess power and money, I lack a heart," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"You were trying to make me smile because I was sad, right? You empathized with me, so that means you have a heart."

Shinra chuckled, "Then let me ask, would you love a man with a dark past? A man who lacks humanity and is selfish."

"Mr. Shinra, are you asking me out?" You teased, not wanting to answer his question at that moment.

"And if I am?"

"Great. Where would you like to go?"

Under his hood, Rufus hid a rare expression - eyes wide, cheeks slightly red, and mouth ajar. Within moments, his laughter echoed through the room, surprising everyone. That was the first time in his life he has laughed openly; had you told him a year ago that one day he would laugh in such a manner, Rufus would have called you insane.

"You are truly a strange one."

You giggled in response but didn't say a word. Rufus wondered what you were silent as he couldn't see your expression from within the darkness. Bending down to his level, you cautiously brought your hands closer to him and lowered the cloth hiding his face. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him; you had heard women mentioning that Rufus was a handsome man, but you weren't expecting him to be drop-dead sexy. Shinra stared at you with a smirk as your cheeks slowly started to glow red.

"My dear, are you not feeling well? Your cheeks seem a bit too red," he teased, earning a pout from you. "Do my bandages bother you?"

"You even make the bandages look good," you absentmindedly replied. "Uh...I mean-"

Before you could retract your statement or give clarifications, Rufus sealed your lips with his. Everyone in the room started clapping and cheering the two of you on. Though you were embarrassed, a warm smile danced on your lips. As you scanned the smiling faces of all the patients in the room, Rufus stared at the empty bed by the window.

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

The two of you had been together for a while, and Shinra had made a full recovery. The situation in the city was improving, all thanks to the mysterious healing rain.

"Rufus, what are we doing here?" You asked as your wrapped your hands around his arm tightened.

"It will only be a moment," he chuckled and freed his arm from your tight grip before making his way to a dilapidated tombstone. Shinra placed a bouquet of white Forget-Me-Nots in front of the grave and whispered solemnly, "These are from a man who wished to tell you that he loved you dearly. His only regret in life was not confessing his feelings to you."

"Rufus?" You asked, taken aback by his words and actions.

"My dear, do you believe in the afterlife?" He questioned curiously.

"There has to be something after death, so yes."

The corners of his lips slightly tugged up, "Then I hope the old man was able to meet her and confess his feelings."  

———————————————

➣ FFVII Masterlist ➣ Buy me a Ko-fi? ➣ Commission: Open || Requests: Closed

[thiserichann]

cinderella and the mystery of the red lipstick (smut version) - d.sc

reader x roommate!winwin

genre: smut, fluff, humor

warnings: making out, drunk sex, femdom, safe sex, a bit of soft dom! Winwin and soft dom! reader

word count: 2562

synopsis: this is another Cinderella fic, except for the fact that she left lipstick stains instead of glass slippers

prompt:

This is my (very late) entry for @neosmutcollective's Risque event.

The song it was based on was Lips by NCT 127 (although it leaned towards the demo version more)

It was also a bit upbeat because the song Cinderella by CNBLUE (the Youth With You version) has been stuck on my head for ages now.

Enjoy reading!

Love, Ellie.

(link to the full story here)

Entering the party through someone’s window is probably the most ungraceful way to enter the party. However, you had no choice. Yes, it was rude to enter someone’s party without the owner’s invite. But, in your defense, it was ruder to not invite someone to a house party at your place.

Your brother, dear Hendery Huang, was kind enough to send you on your merry way that morning when you told him that you’re coming home late for a project.

“You know what, since I love you so much, you can stay over until morning. Sounds fun, right?”

And then the bastard proceeded to throw a party that same day.

The window to your shared bedroom with Hendery was wide open. He should be glad that it was you walking in rather than a criminal.

It wasn’t a criminal offense if you’re the one breaking in at your place.

You have successfully entered your room, changing into an outfit that your family would’ve never approved of, and wore layers of makeup to hide your identity. After the makeover, you’re almost unrecognizable. Your favorite touch is that bright red lip that you ordered from a friend that morning. There had been a mix-up in the delivery, you’re supposed to get that mauve color that you always wore when you go out. It was an honest mistake on the seller’s part, but you were kind enough to not send it back and keep the color instead.

You made it out of the room without being unnoticed. It’s not like anyone knows you at all though. The crowd is usually made up of people within Hendery and his roommates’ circle, people you usually do not interact with daily. You’ve also managed to sneak past the living room and into the kitchen where all the booze is. Grabbing a red cup full of whatever alcohol was on the counter, you made your way once again to the sea of people enjoying the party.

Since you barely knew every one, you just settled on leaning against the wall and observed the rest of the party. Honestly, you couldn’t understand what the fuss was about. It’s just a bunch of people using alcohol as an excuse to doing a bunch of dumb shit.

The introvert in you kicked in, and so you decided to finish your vodka in peace, which is translated to getting drunk in your room as you watch your favorite Netflix series.

Smiling happily, you made your way out past the crowd and into the sleeping quarters, where your room is. Thankfully, the guys are nowhere to be found and you can happily sneak back to your room without getting noticed. You have failed to account for one thing though. Near the sleeping quarters is a single, communal bathroom. Just as you’re about to enter your room, outcomes Sicheng, in a daze, trying his best to stand still as he holds on to the bathroom door for support.

“You can’t go there.” He croaked, speech already slurring due to his drunken state.

“Ah, yes. Thanks.” You made zero fuss about it, knowing that staying there would expose you to Sicheng. You don’t think he will tell your brother of your current whereabouts, but you digressed, just to be safe.

He then proceeds to call your name.

“Is that you? Can you help me out here?” You grunted, knowing full well that your identity had just been revealed. The guy looked like he needed help though, so you threw all the world in and helped him go back to his room. You grabbed him by his arms, which he then wrapped around you to help him support his weight, and walked step by step towards his room.

You heard footsteps coming from the outside, and in your panic, you used the drunk man’s body to shield the view of whoever it is that’s coming that way.

“Winwin hyung, you alright back there?”

Your heartbeat raced when you heard your brother’s voice. Knowing him, he would tell your mother that her precious little daughter is not only drunk but she’s wrapped around a guy’s arms doing god-knows-what. You leaned across the wall, stretching your arm out and wrapping it around Winwin’s neck. You pulled him closer, bodies only inches apart, making it look like the two of you are making out.

“Oh, you’re busy. Alright. Have fun!” The footsteps were gone in the moment, but your position stayed the same. You turned your gaze back at Sicheng, which is now looking at you weirdly.

“Hey.” You whispered.

“Hey.”

“I would like to get out of this position now.” You whispered once again, hints of your nerves already peeking out of your voice.”

“You’re pretty.” You stayed quiet, but you’re mentally screaming inside. Your emotions are going in a frenzy and something on the back of your mind keeps on telling you to pull him closer and turn the act into reality.

But that would be weird, right? Even if you’re a bit tipsy, reason has never left your brain. It’s nagging you to do the opposite, to push him away and proceed with your evening plans. The internal conflict rendered you frozen on the spot.

His eyes were fixed on yours, and as much as you want to look away, you’re afraid that that will get you into more danger. Looking away means you’re gonna have to take your eyes off of him, and you won’t see what he’s about to do next.

He was staring, which you now realized is him waiting for you to react and do something. Pull him closer and get lost in him, or push him away and live with the rest of your lives knowing that you missed an opportunity to get with someone you never thought would be interested in you.

Something.

Your inactive irritated him, and so he leaned in closer, his lips now hovering above yours, the scent of his perfume, sweat, and alcohol made him addictive.

“What’s stopping you right now?”

You were breathless, but you know you had to answer. He’s got a bit of authoritativeness in him and you feel like refusal consequent to a punishment.

“You.”

“I can stop if you're uncomfortable,” Winwin smiles, not the perverted kind, but the sweet reassuring kind that made you melt inside. "But the way you're holding me right now tells me otherwise."

He carefully placed his hands on your hip, calculating his every move to not get slapped that evening. It worked. You didn't even pick up a fight, even as his hands glided to your back to finally seal the distance between the two of you.

"So tell me, do you want me to stop?"

You had a clear answer in your head, but no sounds come out of your mouth except small squeaks and squeals due to his touch. It took you a while to utter the following words to him.

"No. Don't stop."

"Good." That was his only response. He took your answer as a sign of your consent and pushed you back to the wall, finally claiming your lips as he does so. You moaned under him, unable to tell him about how overwhelmed you are, and that you don't know how to move and match his pace. You take a deep breath and relaxed, letting him take the lead as he hugged you closer, going deeper into the kiss. He also made sure to give attention to your neck and jaws, which leaves you to place your lips in any piece of skin that you're able to reach the moment.

Before anything fun happens though, he pulled away from you, leaving you there in confusion.

"More?"

"More." This time, it was you who initiated the kiss. Slowly, you get traces of the old Sicheng back. The shy and quiet kid from before, not the confident sex demon that he was a few minutes back.

He had the mind to open his bedroom door, which was just a few inches away from where the two of you were just standing. The idea of him having common sense made him a lot sexier. It was enough to tickle that sapiophile in you.

In a few careful steps, your back hits the bed and he was on top of you. It seems like he was uncomfortable with that idea, and so he carried you in his arms and switched the positions, leaving you on top of him. You can still tell that he was very drunk, and he might not be able to do things with full precision in that state. Again, his sense is sexy.

You took that as a sign to take over, so you pulled away to try and fix the position into something more comfortable. When you did though, you were horrified to see that your lipstick was not kiss-proof, and so he some of it smeared all across his face and neck. It didn't bother him at all though because he used his perfectly white shirt to wipe some of it off of his face.

"Well?" You were snapped back into reality and proceeded to sit on his lower torso, kissing him with the same intensity that you did earlier. He happily returned the favor, making sure to place his hands on your sensitive skin, giving you goosebumps all over.

He was the first one to take off his shirt, throwing it into the side of the bed to take some of the heat off his body. You followed the suit, discovering that you made a good call earlier by wearing something sexy underneath. It was supposed by making you feel confident as you blend in with the crowd earlier, but it was a happy coincidence that it matched with the lipstick that you had earlier.

He sat down from the bed, leaning against the bedframe, just so he can reach you better. His fingers twirled around the straps of your bra, bringing them down slowly and let them fall to your shoulders. You helped him out by unclasping the hook, removing it completely from your body. It has now joined the pile of discarded clothing below the bed.

His eyes now fall on your half-naked body, gulping down a few times before he said, "I never really took you as the type to do this." You placed a finger in his chins and scooted closer.

"Me neither." You placed a few, quick pecks on his lips, which slowly turned back into a more passionate one, tasting the aftertaste of alcohol in each other's mouth. His hand traveled upwards, cupping a boob softly. The touch sent shivers throughout your body. He started kneading it softly, matching the current pace of the kiss. In between kisses, he staring spewing out nonsense, like how beautiful you looked at that light and how soft your skin feels under his skin. This is the most talkative he's been since you first saw him, and you can't tell if it's the alcohol or he's just that noisy in bed. Nonetheless, you were elated. Every piece of flattery that he says made you blush, making you glow even more in his eyes.

But his favorite will always be your lips. He loved it when your lips left red marks on his neck. He loved it when you moan his name every time his hand would caress you. He made sure to let you know that your pretty lips would be something that he can't forget.

He takes off the rest of your clothes. Even as he dipped his fingers inside you, he made sure to claim your lips, keeping it occupied as much as he can. It's the only thing that's keeping him hooked, even when his body is telling him to shut down.

You couldn't wait any longer, and so you scooted down and took off his pants and underwear, rolling it off him as quickly as you can. You didn't wait for him to respond, taking it in your mouth instead, earning a surprised gasp from him. You can hear him whining from under you, moaning your name, and as your mouth takes all of him. It didn't take a while though, because he motioned you to stop and come closer. He was breathless after you were done with him.

He reached out for the desk rights beside his bed, feeling out the drawers before he managed to pull out a foil packet. He carelessly ripped it with his teeth and grabbed the condom inside to hand it to you. You realized that his vision must still be blurry, and so you took the liberty to unroll it in his cock and get on with it. Then, you carefully lined his dick to your entrance, lowering your body slowly, stretching you down until he was fully inside. He grabbed your hips and pushed inside further into you unexpectedly.

"Oh my god, Dong Sicheng!"

He laughed at the notion of you saying his full name in shock, but you were able to recover quickly and met his movements, which is getting quicker and harder every few minutes. Your head falls on his chest, muffling your moans with his skin as you tried your best to keep quiet and hide your presence from the rest of the people in the party. More lipstick stains scatter on his chest, but at that point, Sicheng never cared. He wasn't feeling like himself anymore. His thoughts are empty besides the image of you on top of him, riding him out to orgasm.

Winwin is now getting rougher by the second, series of moans and curses spilling from his mouth as his grip on your waist gets tighter, drilling deeper and harder into you like a madman. You also threw all care away, moans now reaching all four corners of the room, holding on to Sicheng for your damn life as you get closer to your orgasm. In one quick thrust, you started to unravel on top of him, hugging his body closer as you shiver from your orgasm. He never slowed down, because he soon let out a long, drawn-out groan, and you can feel him growing soft inside you, milking out your orgasms as much as he can.

The activity did a number on Sicheng because, in a few minutes of cuddling from under his sheets, you can already hear the quiet snores coming from his direction. You felt bad, apologetic even, that he had to pour out all of his remaining energy on you that night. You slowly pulled away from him, picking the rest of your clothes off before you bid your roommate goodbye for tonight. As much as you loved the cuddles, you'd rather be caught dead than be caught by your brother under someone's bed.

///

"Please don't let any of this get to Hendery. He would never let me see the end of it." You pleaded, placing a hand on the bridge of your nose as you recall the moments of last night.

"I think your brother knows already. He's smarter than you think, just like how you're not as innocent as he thinks."

It was the first time that he smiled today, which gave you major flashbacks of last night's rendezvous.

"I was right about one thing last night, though. I'll never be able to forget those lips.”

[so-writing]

Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (6)

all parts in the master list

I asked who wanted Matt to end up with reader and most people were like “yes but make it hurt” so while I won’t reveal if she ends up with him or not, I will make it hurt! Ya welcome!

--

The kiss was.. unexpected.

Matthew pulled back quickly, out of natural habit, and she immediately did the same, due to his response.

“Oh my god, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what I was thinking, actually I wasn’t thinking I just-“

“Hey,” he cut her off gently, “relax, you’ve been drinking, it’s no big deal.”

“It kind of is. That was super inappropriate and I don’t know why I did it. I could get in so much trouble.”

She was right. Getting involved with Matthew, not that either of them wanted that, would be a conflict of interest and she could potentially lose her job if the situation wasn’t handled properly.

“Your secret is safe with me, don’t worry.”

He wasn’t sure if her cheeks were rosy from the alcohol or the embarrassment but he allowed himself to find it cute for a minuscule moment before pushing the thought away.

“You know, your assertion that you don’t like me is pretty wobbly now,” he tried to play it off as a joke but when she didn’t say anything for almost a full thirty seconds, confusion set in.

“You don’t, right?”

“No,” she spoke quickly, “I don’t, I just, I don’t, I’m sorry I’m being so weird. It’s the alcohol.”

*

Your head was spinning. What the fuck had you just done? And why?!

“You know, your assertion that you don’t like me is pretty wobbly now.”

Matthew was standing a foot away from you, his piercing blue eyes were staring into your own with that stupid smirk on his face and for a minute you weren’t sure whether or not you could disagree with him.

It had been one of the most tumultuous weeks of your life and you were so close to coming out of it unscathed. That wouldn’t happen now, not after you suddenly gathered all the insane confidence in the world and fucking went and kissed him.

“You don’t, right?”

“No. I don’t, I just, I don’t. I’m sorry I’m being so weird. It’s the alcohol.”

Hopefully he bought it, because if he didn’t there was no other explanation you could offer.

You needed to talk to someone, to vent and air it out and get a different perspective from a fresh set of eyes. You needed your mom.

“I have to go back to the hotel and I have to call someone. It’s kind of a private conversation so will you knock before you come in to let me know you’re back?”

“Uh, sure. Are you okay?”

“No,” you answered honestly.

++

“Hi, honey, you’re calling late, is everything ok?”

“No,” you let the sob that had been trapped in your throat come bursting out, “it’s really fucking not.” 

“What’s going on?” 

Your mother knows who Matthew Tkachuk is. You’ve bitched about him to her probably more times than you can count but she doesn’t expect what you lay out in front of her as you sit on the edge of the bed trying to speak clearly and not cry. 

“I’ve gotta say,” you could hear the smile in her voice, “you really put your foot in it tonight, but maybe this isn’t all bad.”

“Of course it’s all bad, mom, I’m going to get fired.”

“He’s not going to tell anyone.”

“How do you know?”

“He told you so.”

“What do I do here? How do I handle this?” 

“It depends. How do you feel about him, really?”

You didn’t know. You didn’t fucking know. Matthew had spent the entirety of your time working with the Flames, until this week, treating you like you didn’t exist. Since finding out your room assignments he had been pretty much equal parts hot and cold and it was doing your head in. 

There were times he was completely awful to you but sprinkled in with them were the moments where he was apologetic and even a little bit kind. It was then that it hit you. 

He had been cruel to you for years and only in the past week had he shown small spots of kindness and here you were overanalyzing the fuck out of them. You didn’t like him, not in general and definitely not anything deeper than that. The tiny bit of positive attention he was giving you was clouding your head because you’d been single for such a long time and hadn’t had any real male attention in months but you were seeing things clearly now. 

“I don’t feel anything for him, mom.”

“I’m not sure of that.” 

“I am,” a soft knock on the door interrupted your phone call, “I’ve gotta go though, I’ll call you tomorrow on the way home, love you.”

You ended the call and made your way over to the door to unlock the deadbolt and let Matthew in. 

“Holy fuck,” you shouted as his large body collided with your smaller one, sending the two of you crashing to the floor.

“What the fuck Matthew?!”

“Sorry, s-sorry,” he slurred, clearly drunk, “I was leaning on the door, didn’t think you’d open it.”

“Well I did, Jesus Christ,” you shoved him off you and rubbed your burning wrist.

His clumsiness sent him down on top of you with your arm tucked to your side and your wrist took the brunt of fall as it was crushed beneath the two of you.

“Shit, let me see!”

“Matthew, really, I’m fine.” 

“You might not be. I’m not a small guy and we fell hard. Let me check it out.”

You weren’t sure how drunk he was before but it must not have been to severe because he seemed to sober up quickly and the look of concern in his eyes as you babied your wrist was enough for you to let him take a look. 

He was gentle, slowly moving your arm around to get the best look at it. 

“Doesn’t appear to be broken or anything, but you should still talk to someone in medical. I’m obviously no expert.” 

“I’m fine, Matthew, thank you.” 

There was a strained quiet hanging between you as he closed the door and locked it. 

“Who’d you call?” 

Matthew moved away from the door and stripped his shirt, followed by his jeans and you were hit with a flashback of the other day when he did the same thing but this time he knew you were there.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting ready for bed,” his response was resolute, “who’d you call?”

“Why is that any of your business?” 

Your eyes were trained on his toned stomach and chest as he pulled on a pair of navy pajama pants. 

“It isn’t. I just want to know why you ran for the fucking hills after kissing me and who you so desperately needed to talk to. Also, be less obvious with your eyes.”

That fucking annoying smirk again. You blushed a bit but still managed to roll your eyes at his cockiness.

“Was it an ex? Did that kiss drum up some old shit for you? Realize you missed them even though they’re probably a piece of shit and you know can do better? Turn around, please.” 

You did as he asked, not answering his question, “what are you doing?” 

“Taking my boxers off, they’re uncomfortable.” 

When Matthew gave you the go ahead to turn back around your eyes instantly dropped to his waistline. His pajama pants were now hanging low on his hips, exposing the top of his adonis belt and you knew you needed to look away before he made some shitty comment. 

“Was it an ex?” 

He asked the question a second time and part of you wanted to say yes but what was the point in lying?

“No. It was my mom.” 

“Really? So it’s something that’s fucking with you pretty bad, huh?” 

What the fuck? 

“Why would you say that?”

“We’ve been working together for a while and the only time I can remember you excusing yourself to call your mom was when the Islanders offered you a job with less pay but closer to home.”

“How do you know about that?” 

“I know you’re not exactly friends with me, but you are friends with other people on this team and maybe I asked them about you because maybe I was curious.” 

Don’t fall for it, you told yourself. This was one of those small spots of kindness Matthew had recently started to show you. Now wasn’t the time to lose focus of the bigger picture. 

“It’s nothing serious. I missed my mom, I wanted to call her.”

“You wanted to call her at almost midnight your time, much later her time, after you ran out on me?”

“Yes Matthew,” your tone was clipped, “is that problem?”

“No, no not at all. I get it. I miss my mom, my whole family actually, all the time.” 

You weren’t going to give in and have this conversation with him. Matthew loved his family and was very close with them, it was obvious to anyone who spent even a small amount of time around him. 

“Maybe you should call her,” the words came out more aggressive than you meant, “as far as I know, you haven’t spoken to her at all this week.” 

“I’ve been texting her everyday, actually.” 

If he was offended, he didn’t show it. 

“Well,” you huffed, “good.” 

Matthew was leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door, his whole beautiful torso on display, with a look in his eyes like he wanted to say something. You waited for him to make his move and watched as he opened and closed his mouth three times before finally saying anything.

“You looked good tonight, really, really good.” 

His confession hit you like a semi truck veering off the highway and into a field of sunflowers. Don’t give in, don’t fucking do it, you willed yourself to ignore his comment but when he continued..

“I’ve never seen you like that, so sexy and confident, I’m honestly really fucking blown away by you right now.”

This was not what you expected and as much as you wanted to believe him, you knew this was just another kind kink in his chain of cruelty and you weren’t going to let him get the best of you again. 

“Don’t say things you’ll regret when you’re sober in the morning.”

The silence between the two of you was heavy, neither choosing to say anything until you decided to break the hypothetical glass.

“Early game and even earlier practice tomorrow. You need to sleep, Matt. Come to bed.” 

[waywardrose13]

Night and Day

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4263

Warnings: Language, witch!reader, mentions and implicaitons of sex, angst, some fluff, not enough editing to satisfy me

Summary: You hid the fact that you were a witch from the Winchester brothers for years. After a run in with an old mentor of yours causes your secret to be revealed, the brothers find out that not only are you a witch, but one of the most powerful in the world. When Dean is given the task to kill you in exchange for his brother’s life, you must face the fact you lied to the man you loved- the same man who hates witches with a burning passion.

A/N: My tags haven’t been working lately. I’m going to put my tags in a reblog. Comment or shoot me an ask letting me know if you got a notification or not. Oh, and also- surprise!

“Dean, I’m serious. We gotta get up.”

You gently nudged at your boyfriend. A smile played on your lips as you felt his arms tighten around you. He whined and let out a long sigh.

“Five more minutes.”

“You said that twenty mintues ago,” you scoffed, smirking down at him. He groaned and lifted his head to look at you.

“You’re a joy killer,” he said. 

“A joy killer?” You asked. You raised a brow as your smirk grew. “Really?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Dean said.

“Right. Okay big boy, up and attem, let’s go. We’ve got that case in Ozark.”

Dean groaned again. “We just got back from a case two days ago.”

“Comes with the job description, honey,” you said. You swung your legs out of bed, placing your feet onto the floor. As you stood up, Dean suddenly wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you back down onto the bed. You squealed as he squeezed your sides, his lips latching onto your throat.

“Wanna stay here with you,” Dean said. He raised his head to kiss your lips. You ran your hand through his hair, his fingers running up your side, raising to cup your breast beneath your shirt.

“Dean, we don’t have time for this,” you said. He peppered kisses along your throat and collarbone, settling on the pulse point below your ear. “As much as I love doing this, we really need to get up.”

Dean halted his movements and lifted his head to scowl at you. He pushed himself up and off you, walking over to the dresser.

“Alright, fine,” he huffed. “Joy killer.”

***

“Of course, it has to be fucking witches.”

You winced at his words. You had been in Ozark for nearly a day now. After interviewing two of the victims who survived the attacks, you had also spoken to the detectives on the case before investigating the victims’ homes. The victims claimed to have been attacked by a shadow figure. The other three victims had been slaughtered in their homes, while the two survivors suffered severe lacerations and what seemed to be burns. You and the brothers were stumped for a while, until you found a hex bag hidden in a vase in one of the homes, and another hex bag stuffed in a couch cushion in the other.

You always hated witch cases. Not only were they dangerous, but they were also conflicting. You were a natural born witch, coming from a long line of witches on your mother’s side of the family. You had the gift of sight, also known as psychic abilities, and you had practiced witchcraft since you were thirteen.

When you had met Dean Winchester, it had been on a ghoul hunt. In those three days, you instantly felt an attraction to him that you couldn’t describe. You never thought he would be interested in you. You saw the women he’d frequent, and you weren’t like them. You were in shape, hunting keeping you fit, however you had some stretch marks, love handles, and thicker thighs than you would’ve liked. You also weren’t the prettiest woman in your opinion. You weren’t ugly, but you were always self conscious of the way you looked. You were sarcastic, cursed like a sailor, and reserved. You had always kept a wall around yourself ever since you were younger, sprouting at early ages due to things you had experienced and seen. You were twenty-four, a virgin, and a bit awkward at times.

Not at all Dean Winchester’s type.

But after meeting up with the Winchesters a few more times, you and Dean slowly became closer, until one night after a hunt, Dean had confessed his feelings for you. He was hesitant at first due to the ten year age difference, but your relationship had quickly blossomed. He was your first real relationship, the first person to ever be with you entirely, the first person to ever hold your heart.

Which is why you never told him about yourself.

Dean hated witches. It was a fact everyone knew. If you were to tell him that you were, in fact, a witch, he’d not only break up with you, but you were afraid he’d hunt you. Although you had never used your abilities for anything other than good, you weren’t entirely sure Dean would be able to trust you after you kept it from him for so long.

You were one of the most powerful witches in the world. Numerous covens have tried to recruit you, but you turned them all down. You were nomadic by nature, a free spirit, and you didn’t want to use your abilities to do someone else’s bidding. So you stuck to yourself. You kept off the radar and hoped your protective hex bags shield sigil tattoos worked. When Dean asked about the tattoos, you had simply told him they were more sigils for protection- like the anti possession tattoo. He believed you without a second thought.

“Okay, so now that we know what we’re dealing with,” Sam began. “We need to find out who. After doing some digging, I found that all of the victims attended the same addiction recovery group.”

“So you think the group is somehow linked to the murders?” Dean asked.

“It makes sense,” you said. “They all had this one thing in common. That’s what we always look for, right?”

“Right. There are only three people left in the group who have not been attacked. Since it’s a support group, anonymity is a requirement. But luckily for us, we have fake badges,” Sam said. “Marcus Wainwright, Brienne Tarly, and Astrid Waters are the only people who haven’t been attacked.”

You froze at Astrid’s name. You knew that name. She was the leader of a coven who tried to recruit you years ago. You turned them down because of the craft which they practiced.

“Who’s the leader of the group?” You asked.

“Uh…” Sam looked at the files. “Astrid.”

“I think it’s her,” you said. The brothers looked at you in question. You mentallykicked yourself. You said it before you could think. “She’s the leader, right?” You tried to cover yourself. “What if she used this group as a way to make sacrifices to whatever that shadow is?”

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Sam said. “Carla, one of the victims I talked to today, said that Astrid would always try to get the group attendants to recruit more people. Apparently Astrid was always trying to bring more people into the group. Almost like she was obsessed with it.”

“She was trying to get more people to sacrifice,” Dean said.

“Exactly,” you said.

“Okay, let’s find this bitch.”

***

Astrid still lived in the same cottage as she did all those years ago when she tried to recruit you. Cobblestone walls covered in climbing ivy. Black shutters hung off the gothic windows. Various leafy plants grew around the sides of the house. The broken path led to a great wood door. The negative energy rolling off the house made you nauseous, and it took everything in you not to pass out.

You were only sixteen when you met Astrid, only just beginning to truly tap into your true potential when other witches began to feel your energy.

“You’re strong,” she had told you. “Stronger than me. You would be a valuable asset to any coven. A threat to witches below your strength. Others will want to harvest that power for themselves. We can keep you safe. I can keep you safe.”

You could feel her energy was dark. Her aura was an ominous black, a stark contrast from your pure white. You knew she was lying immediately. You threatened her. You were stronger than Astrid, and that pissed her off.

“I can fend for myself, thanks,” you had said.

Astrid had simply smirked at you, patting your hand gently. “We’ll see about that, my dear.”

You never thought you’d run across her again. You had hoped that you wouldn’t run into her again. Not only was she incredibly dangerous to you, but there was a high chance she would spill your secret, and you would not only lose Dean forever, but you would lose your life.

Swallowing back your fear, you trudged through the woods alongside the brothers. You knew you needed to do this. Innocent people were dying. If this was your last night on Earth, you wanted to be able to save them at least.

The three of you ducked below one of the windows. Dean peeked inside, trying his best to stay as hidden as possible.

“She’s in there,” he whispered. “She’s… at an altar. She’s chanting something.”

“Guess we found our witch,” Sam muttered. “Nice, Y/N.”

You gave him a weak smile.

Dean got up in front of the door, gun in hand. You and Sam waited for his call.

“Okay, on three,” he said.

“One… two…”

“Three!”

A new voice echoed around you, the door of the cottage violently swinging open, a gust of wind knocking Dean off his feet. Astrid’s cackle filled the air, and suddenly you began to feel woozy. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut, Sam falling down next to you. You knew it was Astrid, and you tried to fight it off, but soon succumbed to her power as well, your world going dark.

***

“How exciting!”

Head pounding, you awoke to the sound of a female’s voice. Trying to move, you soon found yourself unable to. Your eyelids felt heavy, and your limbs felt numb.

Opening your eyes, you found yourself staring up at the ceiling of the cottage. Astrid’s silver head was bent over you, bright emerald eyes staring into yours, a crooked, elated smile on her face.

“My oh my, I never thought the day would come,” she muttered to herself. A long nailed finger stroked your cheek, and you flinched away.

“Don’t touch her, you bitch!” You turned your head at the sound of Dean’s voice. You smiled weakly immediately at the sight of him, finding yourself incredibly tired.

You felt drained.

You tried to move your hands, finding them strapped to the table you were currently laid out on. Your flannel had been removed, as were your jeans, leaving you in only a tank top and panties. You shivered in the cool air. You hated being exposed like this in front of anyone that wasn’t Dean.

“What are you doing?” You asked weakly. “Let me go.”

Astrid laughed. “Please. You fall right into my hands and you think I’m going to let you go?” She asked. “You’re smarter than that, little fox.”

 “Why are you doing this?” Sam asked. “Why did you kill all those people? Why did you sacrifice them?”

Astrid looked surprised. “Oh my, you’re a smart one, aren’t you?” She smiled at Sam, holding a mortar and pestle up over you. She crushed something inside, muttering a few incantations.

“The shadow makes me stronger. The more it's fed, the stronger I become,” Astrid said smoothly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m a strong witch. Stronger than your average natural born, much stronger. However, there are only two people in the world who are stronger than me.”

Astrid gave you a pointed look. 

“The shadow makes me stronger, as I said, but without the power of the other two witches, I will never be the strongest. If I were to siphon their energies from their souls, I would be the strongest witch there ever was and will ever be.”

“Pretty egotistical, eh there, granny?” Dean said. Astrid sneered at him.

“You’ll be the first one to die once I’m done with her, honey,” Astrid said.

“That is if I don’t kill you first, sweetheart.”

“If you only knew what I would be capable of,” Astrid snapped. “One witch has kept herself hidden. The Scottish bitch never can be found.”

“Rowena,” Sam said. 

“Oh, you know her?” Astrid said. “Yes, Rowena. Now, the other witch. Well, I met her years ago. She was just a wee lass of sixteen at the time, but she was already so strong. I knew she was going to be a problem for me. I tried to recruit her to my coven, but she was smart. Too smart. I’ve been trying to track her down for years, and I’ve never been able to find her.”

Astrid let out a dreamy sigh. “And then, by the grace of God, she fell right into my hands.”

“If you’ve already killed her, why take the souls of innocents?” Dean asked.

Astrid scoffed. “Oh no, dear. I haven’t killed her yet.”

“Well what’s the hold up? One less witch to worry about. You’ll stop killing innocent people.”

Astrid laughed. She looked down at you. “No idea how you’ve been with the man as long as you did. If I heard that, I’d run for the hills. Or stab him in his sleep.”

“Don’t touch him,” you hissed. Astrid grinned.

“There’s that fire,” she said. She smeared the green paste she made over your chest. You let out a small cry as it burned your skin. She painted a pentacle on you, muttering more incantations.

“Unfortunately, to siphon all of a witch's power, the siphoner cannot kill the siphonee,” Astrid said. “Someone else has to do it after I prepare her, then I could siphon it.”

“Well let’s make you a deal,” Dean said. Your lip wobbled. “If I kill the bitch, letting you siphon her power, you will never kill another person.”

Astrid smiled wickedly. “Really?”

“Sure. One less witch and we save some people.”

Astrid laughed. “Oh that’s too good. I’ll make a blood vow. If I break it, I die.”

“Fine.” Dean nodded at her.

“Give me your word, hunter,” Astrid said.

“I give you my word.”

“That no matter what, you follow through,” Astrid continued.

Dean sighed. “Yeah, fine.”

“Dean,” you said softly. A tear leaked from your eye. “Please.”

He looked at you curiously. Astrid cut his bindings, letting him free.

“He’s not the brightest bulb, is he?” She asked you, laughing.

“Where do I find her?” Dean asked.

Astrid handed Dean a knife. It had a curled handle, various sigils carved into it. She stepped back, folding her arms over her chest. 

“Go ahead.”

“You deaf?” Dean asked. “Where do I find the bitch?”

Astrid smirked, running her tongue over her lips.

“Right in front of you.”

The blood drained from Dean’s face. Tears streamed from your eyes now, leaking down your temples onto the wood beneath you. Astrid killing you was one thing. Dean killing you? There was nothing worse you could think of.

“Y/N?” He said. “No fucking way. She’s not a witch.”

“Isn’t she?” Astrid asked. “Go on, Y/N. Show us a little trick.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing this was all a dream. Wishing that you would wake up and you’d be back at the bunker in Dean’s arms.

But when you opened your eyes, Dean still stood there, that curved knife in his hand, Astrid’s evil grin plastered on her face, a shocked Sam watching from his confinement on the wall.

“Fuck you,” you hissed.

“If you don’t show him-” she walked over to Sam, hand on his head- “I blow his brain apart.”

You took in a shaky breath, eyes focusing on the windows. Suddenly, your eyes glowed purple, and the windows shattered. The glass floated up into the air, spinning around and around, wind whipping everyone’s hair. It only lasted a few moments, and when the glass stopped spinning, a heart floated six feet off the ground. It slowly moved towards Dean, and once it reached him, you blinked, eyes going back to their normal E/C, the heart falling to the ground, glass shattering once more, mimicking your own heart.

Dean looked up at you in shock.

“You did that?”

“It’s her best party trick,” Astrid said. “Y/N here is an artist. Unless, of course, she’s blowing a werewolf to pieces with a simple flick of her wrist, or growing a thirty foot tree with the blink of an eye.”

“No,” Dean said lowly. “You lied to me.”

“I was afraid,” you said. “You hate witches. I thought you were going to kill me.”

“You fucking kept this giant ass secret from me!” He yelled. “You lied to me for years! All that time we’ve been together, you’ve been fucking

“Dean, please-”

“How do I know anything you said was true?”

“It all is! You know everything about me, Dean! I just never told you this!” You urged. “Please, Dean. You know me. You know I’m a good person.”

“I don’t know shit,” he hissed. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

“What?” You asked.

“Have you ever killed someone?” He snapped.

“No! I’ve never-”

“Eh, eh, eh,” Astrid said. “Don’t lie to the poor man anymore, Y/N.”

You let out a sob. “It was an accident.”

“An accident?” Astrid exclaimed. “Bursting a man into flames was an accident? Killing a father of four was an accident?”

“Yes!” You said. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know how to control myself, I-”

A sharp pain suddenly seared inside your head. You gasped, eyes squeezing shut.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked. Astrid grinned.

“Punishing her,” she answered calmly. You screamed as the pain became so intense, white flashed behind your eyes and your whole body went rigid.

“Stop!” Dean yelled.

The pain was gone instantly. You panted, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, sweat mixing with your tears.

“Slit her wrists, Dean,” Astrid whispered. “You swore.”

Dean took the few steps he needed to be right next to you. He looked at the knife, then at your wrist, then at your face.

“Won’t she just heal herself?” He asked.

“Those cuffs around her wrists contain sigils that will prevent any self healing or harm to another person,” Astrid said. “It limits her power. It’s why she hasn’t broken out yet.”

Dean swallowed thickly. He looked at you, eyes searing deeply into your own. An anger burned behind the green you loved so much. It scared you. That anger had never been directed towards you before. 

But there was something else as well. Despair. Dean was torn. You were a witch, a powerful one, and you had lied about it for years. On the other hand, Dean was in love with you. He loved you so much, it scared him.

“Do it,” Astrid said. “Do it, or I kill him.”

She was bent down beside Sam now, lips near his ear, eyes burning purple. Dean looked between you and his brother. You knew he’d never choose you over Sam.

“Do it,” you whispered. You nodded at him, giving him a soft smile. “It’s alright.”

“How can you say that?” Dean asked. 

“I’ll find my way back to you someday,” you told him. “If not, I’ll simply wait for you.”

Dean bit his lip. “I wish you had told me.”

“I thought you were going to kill me,” you admitted. He shook his head, leaning against the table. He cupped your cheek, thumb wiping away a stray tear.

“Baby, you’re a good person,” he said. “Sure, I hate witches.”

You winced.

“But I could never hate you.”

You blinked a few times. “Even though I’m-”

He pressed his lips softly to yours. His eyes were misty, brows pulled together. 

“I could never hate you,” he whispered against your lips.

“Do it, Dean!” Astrid urged. “You’ve got ten seconds.”

“Dean, don’t do it,” Sam said. 

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “I’ll wait for you, my love.”

Dean shook his head.

“Five seconds,” Astrid warned.

“I love you, Dean. It’s okay,” you whispered. 

Dean looked down at the knife in his hands. He caressed your wrist, bringing the knife down against your skin.

“Three seconds!”

He gave you one last look, moving the knife back-

“Two-”

He jerked the knife-

“One!”

You expected the sting of the blade, but only felt the release of the cuff. 

“Man, you should have had some sort of spell on that shit,” Dean said. He smiled darkly at you, giving you a wink. Using your other hand, you flashed your eyes purple, burning the other cuff off.

“No!” Astrid yelled. “What have you done?”

With a simple flick of your wrist, Astrid was flung away from Sam. She crashed into the opposite wall. You slipped off the table, bare feet hitting the cold floor. A wind blew through the cottage, blowing your hair back from your face. You stalked towards her, all the while a smirk grew on your lips, your fingers tingling.

“I haven’t let myself go in so long,” you said. You lifted your hands, seeing the purple glow in your palms and beneath your fingertips. You cocked your head. “All this pent up energy…”

“Y/N-”

“It’s almost like snapping a rubber band,” you muttered.

“Y/N,” Dean said slowly. 

Using a blast of power, you forced Astrid’s arms against the wall. Keeping them there, you raised her up until her feet dangled off the floor. You did the same to her ankles, the strain causing her skin to bruise immediately.

“Y/N, wait-”

You forced her head back, a sickening crunch resonating inside the cottage.

“So much power… can be dangerous,” Astrid gasped. Blood dribbled from her mouth and nose, pouring out of her eyes like tears. You forced more pressure upon her, crushing her further. “I was your mentor once… don’t let it consume you… keep your soul pure…”

You crushed her further, your brow raising slightly. You smiled wickedly at Astrid, a dark chuckle leaving your lips. “Rich coming from you,” you said.

“I let it consume me,” Astrid told you. “Don’t… follow in my footsteps.”

You hadn’t used your power like this in years, not since Astrid was your mentor. It sizzled in your veins and made you feel more rushed than ever. It was almost euphoric, the way your body burned with power, power that came from the Earth beneath your feet. 

You missed that feeling.

What you didn’t miss, however, was the creeping feeling of darkness. It would intrude your thoughts and darken your mind. The risk of using that much power was the potential that it could consume you, and you would flip darkside.

Like Astrid did.

“See you in hell.”

Using once last surge of power, Astrid let out a guttural scream as her whole body turned an odd shade of red, eyes nearly popping from their sockets, blood streaming from any open source, before she stopped moving.

Letting your power retract, she slumped to the floor.

Dead.

You blinked, letting your eyes return to their natural colour, turning to face Dean.

“You gonna kill me now?” You asked.

Dean swallowed thickly, giving you a small smile.

“No.”

“Why not?” You said. “I’m a monster, right? You hate witches. I am witch. Pretty self explanatory.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Dean said.

“You can’t pick and choose the monsters you kill and don’t kill,” you said. “You came here to kill a witch. I killed her, now it’s your turn.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Dean repeated.

You gritted your teeth, sighing deeply. “Fine.”

You walked over to Sam, looking over your shoulder at Dean. With a simple flick of your wrist, Sam was released from his bindings.

“Do it, Sam.”

“Why?” He asked.

“I haven’t let myself go like that in a long time,” you said. “I forgot how tempting it is to give in. I want to do it, Dean. You need to kill me before I do.”

“No,” he said.

“Do it!” You yelled. “Do you really want me to flip? You want me to become like her?” You pointed to the woman you had just killed.

“You won’t,” Dean said. “You’re not like her.”

“Yes,” you whispered. A single tear slipped down your cheek. “I am. I killed that man when I was sixteen because I almost let it win. Who knows what else I could have done if I did.”

“Then we lock you up in the dungeon,” Dean said. “And we bring you back. But you’re good, Y/N. I know you better than anyone.”

Your lip wobbled. 

“You still love me?” You murmured. “Even after finding out?”

Dean smiled warmly at you. He took your hands in his, massaging the backs of yours. “Sure, I was pissed you didn’t tell me. Still am, quite frankly. But you’re my girl,” he said. “I know you. I know the kind of person you are.”

“You hate witches,” you pointed out.

“Eh, maybe they’re not so bad,” Dean said, giving you a lopsided shrug. “I mean, I know this one witch. She’s pretty hot, really good in bed-”

“Dean!” You exclaimed, slapping his chest playfully. He laughed, kissing your forehead, bringing you into his chest.

“What can I say? What you did was pretty badass. Not my fault I’m into that.”

You shook your head. “Okay, big boy. If you’re not gonna kill me, let’s go home.”

Dean took a deep breath, leaning down to pick you up bridal style. You gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself.

“Come on, Sabrina,” he said. You gave him a bitch face, making Sam laugh.

“Really?” You asked.

“Oh, I’ve got more,” he said. “Do you have a pointy hat? Or a broomstick? Were you always this color, or were you born green?”

“Yeah, this is gonna be a long ride home,” Sam muttered.

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[papipopsicle]

AFTERTASTE PART SIX

Pairing: Archie Andrews X Short!Reader

Genre: fluff and some angst

Summary: In which two best friends since childhood test whether sex and friendship can co-exist without causing conflict. Including OC's Flick and Cherry, a bisexual and lesbian in a sapphic relationship who are best friends of Y/N.

Song: Wildflower by 5 Seconds of Summer

Warnings: a high probability for swearing

Words: 1.7K

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

     "LEONARDO, MICHELANGELO!" An eleven year old Y/N Robins called from her porch door, impatiently tapping a food bowl against the wooden frame she leant against. Behind her, the sun was setting and painted the sky a gorgeous array of pinks and oranges, sweeping together like watercolours. She looked out on the street impatiently, finding its sleeping state both calming and unnerving. Elm Street was never noisy, but after three years of living there, the girl had realised it wasn't a place of silence either.

And she was completely right. A distant, yet soft, meow grew ever closer, finally appearing around the side of a bush. Y/N grinned, affectionately calling out for the birman to go find his dinner, "C'mere Angelo, that's it boy!"

He trotted past her up into the house where his found his dinner waiting.

"Leo!" Her small voice called out as loud as it could into the cool evening air. He had wandered off earlier that same day to enjoy the Riverdale summer heat elsewhere, and the Robins family didn't think anything of it. Just as her mouth opened to call out the name again, Vegas came barrelling out from the door of the Andrews household, across the street to her side with Mary and Archie following.

The Andrews matriarch noticed the empty food bowl, "Is everything alright, Y/N/N?" She asked in her usual professional voice, but the girl knew from experience how much love and warmth it really held. Elodie told her about Leonardo's disappearance and how it wasn't uncommon in this kind of weather, but he could be getting a bit hungry.

Mary handed the dog leash to her son and sent him a secret wink, "Why don't you two walk Vegas together and see if you can find him?"

Excitement had been bubbling through the small town of Riverdale for weeks now anticipating the big Fourth of July celebrations ahead of them. Y/N Robins had planned on keeping up with her old tradition of sleeping in until late afternoon, then rolling out of bed in time to catch the fireworks with her friends. But with with the drunkenly asking Archie to be her boyfriend, which was not something she remembered a few hours later, her plans for this year were flipped on their head. So she found herself getting dressed to go talk things out with her supposedly best friend in a quiet spot next to sweet water river.

With her hair half tied up, and a black denim jacket over her shoulders, Y/N left through the door in her bedroom, and waited on the edge of the pavement until she heard a door across the street open and quietly shut. Any butterflies fluttering in her stomach all but disappeared as Archie turned around and smiled into the early morning sun towards her. It had been three days since they had last seen each other, since the girl confessed she didn't really know what she wanted in the space between them.

He jogged over road, asphalt kicking up under his new Nike trainers, and immediately engulfed Y/N's small frame into his own. The two teenagers walked all the way to the edge of Sweetwater River in the silvery silence of early birds and rustling leaves, their hands every now and again grazing each other and lacing together.

"So," The Andrews boy sighed as he lay against the warm grass, watching as she sat next to him and propped her head up on his chest, "what's going on in that head of yours?"

"Leo!" Y/N's melodic voice rang out across the long stretch of stream. Crystal clear water you could see the smoothness of the rocks which lay underneath if you peaked your head over the bank enough. For some unknown reason, the young cat would always find his way towards some kind of water, even back in Phoenix.

"Hello?" Archie bopped the girl on the tip of her nose as she returned back to reality, evidently not hearing what he'd just asked by the puzzled look her face adorned.

She hummed and gave him her full attention, allowing him to rephrase his previous words. In the back of her mind, Y/N knew exactly what she wanted- to leave high school and go on endless adventures with the boy her head lay upon. She wanted an easy life, away from the eerie little town she called home- to decorate her own house with pictures of smiles and candid memories. But most of all, in that perfect moment, she wanted herself to let go and fall in love with her childhood best friend.

After finding Prince Charming and finding out he was really the one from Shrek and not Cinderella, her faith in true love was shaken at the age of sixteen.

"I'm scared of you hurting me, or doing anything that could possibly hurt you, Arch." Y/N's voice faltered at her blunt honesty, "I meant everything I said, but I don't think I'm over what happened with Chuck last year."

"Tiger," Archie interrupted her thoughts, sitting up slightly leaning back on one hand and using the other to cup her face, "I can't promise we won't ever hurt each other even just a little bit, but whatever happens, we'll learn and grown from it together. I don't think I'll ever fully understand how much that bastard hurt you. But, nothing in this world that's worth having comes easy, life is scary and I'll go through all of the shitty parts twenty three hours a day, if it means I get just one with you smiling up at me."

Half an hour of roaming up and down the river bank had passed before a twisting, nauseous feeling took over the pit of Y/N's stomach. She and her family adored their two fluffy boys, her dad would never admit it but they all heard the little 'goodnights' he'd whisper as he made his way up to bed finally. Though with her parents still working, and Y/S/N desperately needing to finish an assignment due tomorrow, the youngest Robins was the only one able to attend this search and rescue mission.

"What if he's -"

Vegas rubbed his nose against her shin in comfort.

"Y/N/N," A twelve year old Archie cut her off in his usual caring voice, "don't even let your mind go there. He's a little ninja cat he's probably off catching frogs or something."

He grabbed her hand, squeezing it in comfort and heading towards an unexplored area of the forest line. Truth be told, he was meant to be doing English homework with Betty Cooper right about now, but that had slipped his mind as soon as Y/N Robins adorably wonky smile found him across the road.

"Leo!" Y/N's sweet voice called out.

"Leonardo?" Archie followed with Vegas by his side.

"That's the sweetest thing I think I've ever heard." The girl admitted shyly, hiding her rose dusted cheeks by bringing Archie into a tight hug, her head resting in the crook of his neck while her long y/h/c hair tickled his face. It smelt of strawberries and mint in the morning breeze.

"Y/N/N, can I ask you something?" His voice sounded nervous, but as she looked up and nodded, his face held a smirk, "Will you stay my girlfriend?"

She answered with a small kiss, staring into his eyes innocently as her fingers traced his back under his thin t-shirt, about to lift the material from his body. But life had a funny way of throwing challenges their way, making them run before they could walk.

"I think I see him!" Archie handed the leash to his best friend, seeing a patch of grey in between the auburn autumn leaves. Vegas barked and tried to follow after his human, but Y/N managed to stop the Labrador from bounding away by distracting him with ear rubs. Wild growls and hisses could be heard as Archie wrestled the feisty long haired cat into his hoodie clad arms. Then Leonardo hissed so madly, the young boy almost dropped him, "Yep, definitely Leo."

Y/N ran over as fast as she could, dropping the lead as soon as she saw his pumpkin eyes and bare teeth, clearly not a fan of Archie. She grinned widely with glee and got to her tippy toes to kiss Archie's cheek. "You're a life saver!"

As soon as the fluffy animal felt Y/N's little hands rubbing his chin as she took him from the boy's arms, he switched into a completely different cat and started purring.

A gunshot sounded through the open clearing, and before a high pitched scream could escape from Y/N's mouth, Archie saw the terror in her eyes and pulled the petite girl behind him. He scaled the area, unable to see anything but birds fleeing from the unusual noise.

"We need to get out of here." The boy's gravely voice whispered with urgency, picking her up without hesitation and running until his lungs burnt and his trainers once again hit the comfort of tarmac.

"What the fuck was that?" Y/N screeched, her inquisitiveness telling to turn back, but thankfully common sense won that battle. She and Archie found themselves back on the pavement of Elm Street before they knew it.

"Y/N, we didn't see anything, it could've been a car backfiring a street away for all we know." Archie tried to rationalise, but in all honesty he was stuck to his core with dread.

"Right, or someone was just murdered and we could've been next on some psychopaths hit list." Y/N's dark mind shone through as she blurted out her inner monologue. The boy didn't have any words of wisdom, instead he lead her to his front door and brought her into his body. They stayed in their own little world for what could have been hours, thankful they had each other and not allowing themselves to think about what secrets Riverdale was really hiding under it's pretty exterior.

Nothing ever happened in the town with 'pep'.

Betty Cooper awoke early that Saturday morning, ready to get any assignments out of the way to enjoy the weekend ahead. She opened her curtains and tied her hair up into a ponytail, but as she looked out of her window at the beautiful blue skies, she watched in shock at the surprising scene unfolding in front of her. Y/N Robins up on her tippy toes, with Archie Andrews' hands wrapped around her waist as they kissed intensely in what the two thought was privacy.

PART SEVEN

wanna be tagged? just send in an ask x

[sin-of-sloth-my-ass]

The Fallen Fairy Pt. 1

A/N: I noticed how inactive the Tumblr side of this fandom is 🤔 If you have any request don't hesitate to ask!

Previous ~ Next

warnings: spoilers

genre: neutral? Bit of Angst?

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"What ya looking at?" Your curious eyes peeked over King's shoulder as you followed his gaze that was directed at Diane and Howzer.

King let out a scream by your sudden appearance behind me, making everyone turn to look at you two curiously, but he waved it off "don't scare me like that, (Y/N)"

"It's been a while since I've been able to scare you, hasn't it" you smiled mischievously, but your words held a lot more meaning than just playfulness. The guilt of that ominous day is something the Fairy King will have to bear to his grave. Your once golden like wings were gone never to be seen again. It was a time never to be spoken of as it was a dreadful day to the both of you.

"Say, my king, you sure you're the sin of sloth? You act more like the sin of envy in my eyes" you mused as you lean your chin in your hands, all while a playful smile was playing on your lips.

Kings scoffed "I told you not to call me that any more. I'm not fit to be a king."

"And I'm not fit to be a fairy any more, but here we are" you replied nonchalantly as you turned in your seat to watch Meliodas and Ban intoxicating themselves with the golden liquid humans couldn't resist.

"What about you? I've seen you staring at Ban a couple of times" He asked as he was the one following your gaze this time.

Unbeknownst to King, it wasn't Ban you had been staring at, but the man opposite of him that held so much resemblance to your past lover. It almost felt like a cruel joke "it's not that deep, besides he's still not over Elaine, so I don't think I have that much of a chance."

"Oi, Tinkerbell" Meliodas called, snapping you out of your haze. Due to your bewildered eyes, a smirk grew on his face as you reminded him of a kid that got caught doing something it shouldn't do.

"What do you want devil's child" you shot back, regaining composure and copying the same smug look he had.

"(Y/N)" King gasped at your response "he's the captain! Don't go around and throw names out like that"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. It's all a joke, right Meliodas?" you defended yourself, but the mischievous look in your eyes didn't go unnoticed by the said boy.

"It's alright King. I know she's just joking" he reassured him. "Anyway, I think the customers could use another round"

"Go ask Elizabeth" you waved him off.

"She's at the capitol" he replied. You grith your teeth "what about Gowther?"

"He went with Merlin somewhere" he informed, amused by your growing irritation "you know our deal. When those two aren't around, you're the one serving the customers"

"Fine" you breathed as you head up from your seat and went behind the bar to give everyone their respective drinks.

"Thank you! What about the uniform, though?" He teased to which you rolled your eyes "don't push it"

To your luck, Elizabeth soon enough arrived, letting you escape the tedious deal you made with the captain of the Seven Deadly Sins.

"Diane!! Let's go train!"

You ran outside the boarhead before Meliodas could come up with a way to rope you into working longer.

You did your best to keep up with Diane's long strolls, cursing in your mind how easier it would've been if you still had your wings.

Once you were deep in the forest and excluded enough from any living creature, you took your fighting stance.

"You know you could always ask Merlin to take a look at your wings. Maybe she finds a way to fix them" Diane said as you did your best to dodge her Golems.

"Mhm, I know. I don't want too, though. It's a reminder to myself of how I failed my kind and how I should work every day to become stronger." You explained as you slashed one of the stone creations with your katana, making it crumble to the floor. You quickly dodged as the other was already coming at you with its fist.

Diane frowned at your answer "you know it wasn't your fault, right?"

"They trusted me. I was their number one defence line and I failed them. I was the royal guard. The one that should protect the Fairy King. How can I possibly be fit for that role when I couldn't even protect my friends? It should've been only me that got killed that day, not them." You mumbled the last part. Diane's creations collapsed as you kicked it with all your force against a tree. You took in the giants emotional state and knew continuing to train was not an option. "Let's go back, shall we?"

By the time you got back, the night had fallen over Britannia. The boardhead was filled with intoxicated people passed out all over the place.

You head up to the roof to look out on the capital that had a few lights brimming in the otherwise dark city.

"I see you made Diane upset," Meliodas said as he joined you and handed you a bottle of ale which you gratefully accepted.

"She asked me why I didn't go to Merlin to see if she could get my wings back" you replied as you took a swig of the toxic liquid.

"You shouldn't blame yourself," he said.

"It's the second time I let my people down" you sighed "if death is not the answer, I guess this is the second-best thing"

"How do you feel about the seal?" He asked as he observed your reaction quietly.

You pressed your lips together as you let his questions sink in "I know it's bad news but at the same time... I haven't seen him in 3000 years"

"I know" he sighed, understanding your conflicted feelings "I hope you understand where I'm coming when I say I'm gonna do everything in my power to prevent them from breaking loose"

"Yeah... I know" you hugged your knees while placing your chin on them "when are you gonna tell them"

"When the time is right" he answered truthfully "what about you? King doesn't know how old you really are, does he?"

"He never asked" you shrugged.

"Would you tell him?" "I don't see why I wouldn't"

"Would you also tell King about him?" You stayed silent at that question, unsure whether it would benefit anyone if you were to tell him. "It's getting late, don't stay up too late."

With that Meliodas left, soon to return as you always had a chat in the midst of the night, while everyone is sound asleep around you

The upcoming sun awoke you from your place on the roof of the boarhead. You lazily sat up and admired the rose gold basked city that was slowly waking up as well.

"Hey Ban, planning on sneaking out without telling anyone?" You heard your king's voice, snapping you out of your dreamy haze.

You observed the two for a little until Ban said something that caught you off guard "I'm going back to the Fairy King's Forest"

It was hard to see their faces from up to where you were seated, but you knew King held a shocked face, mimicking yours.

Your eyes trailed them until you could no longer see them, making you swallow hard as you realized the Fairy King didn't even bother to get you "hypocrite"

You hopped off the roof and went back inside the bar, starting to clean up the mess everyone made the night before.

"Are you sick?" Meliodas asked when he walked downstairs to see who was making all that noise.

"King and Ban left to go to the Fairy King's Forest" you said, not sparing him a second glance.

"How come you didn't go? I thought you went everywhere King went" he asked as he helped you grab a couple of empty bottles.

"He clearly didn't want me there, after all, he left without saying anything." You mumbled "Diane's gonna be heartbroken"

"(Y/N)" Meliodas narrowed his eyes at you. For all those decennia he has known you, he knew something had to be terribly wrong for you not be by the Fairy King's side "I'm no longer a fairy, now am I? Fairies have wings, I don't"

"Neither has King" the captain of the seven deadly sins pointed out.

"He can still grow them. Mine are gone forever" you shot back. "Besides I'm very certain the forest wouldn't give me a third chance. It would be gut-wrenching knowing I could never return there"

"So you rather bask in the unknown?" You silently continuing to clean the used glasses was a sign for him to drop the subject "welp, it can't be helped. Guess you'll be the substitute for King"

"I could never replace my king" you shook your head.

"Your loyalty after all these hundreds of years still ceases to amaze me" he chuckled, making you smile a little as well.

You decided to stay back at the boarhead while the others went to the capital for the ceremony. It was a quiet day as you presumed most of the people of Britannia were at the ceremony to praise the Seven Deadly Sins.

You headed up to your usual spot on top of the boarhead and stared off in the distance and wondered when everything had become such a mess.

It crossed your mind that if Gloxinia was still here he'd probably be ashamed of how weak you've become. He'd probably turn his head at how you let the humans cut off your wings. After all, he warned you more times than you could count that humans should not be trusted. Yet here you were handing them alcohol in return for some golden coins. He'd be rolling in his grave if he'd caught wind of what you were doing right now.

A sudden tremor shook you literally out of your thought process and that's when you felt him. There was no mistake. Even after 3000 years, it still felt so familiar to you.

It didn't take long before Meliodas appeared back at the boarhead. "You felt it too, didn't you"

"Yes," you replied as looked at the Captain of the Seven Deadly Sins. His head hung low while an unease aura clouded his whole body "they're here"

[sanktnikolais]

Dearly Beloved

What’s a mortal man to a powerful Grisha who was now a living saint? Was he still even worthy of her?

He shook the thought away. Zoya chose him—and he chose her. Nothing else was powerful enough to change that. 

How could he make sure it would stay that way?

Or; how Nikolai came up with the plans for Zoya’s gardens and him being in love with her for 5k words.

Word count: 5101

Nikolai stared at the paper. On its surface, in a neat cursive handwriting, was a single line.

          You are the light of my life.

          He shuddered inwardly and crumpled the paper in his fist. The urge to burn it and the ones that came before it was strong. What had he been thinking when he wrote that? It was probably his fifth one, or maybe even his twentieth. Either way, he had already lost count. 

          He sighed, putting a hand to the side of his head as he threw the parchment to the growing pile beside his table. There wasn't a single idea that made sense to him for the past hour, and he considered himself to be a master of his craft. 

          But the thing was, he was never good with poetry. It was the one thing he admitted he didn’t excel at. He thought that he would try and be average on it so he could write something for her, and yet even with days of practice and Tolya’s grudging guidance, Nikolai knew he hadn’t had any improvement. And for her, he wanted it to be perfect. 

          There's no need for it to be perfect, Tamar's voice rang in his head during one late night he spent with the twins to practice his rather unimproved poetry skills. I'm pretty sure Zoya wouldn't mind if it wasn't. 

          But the stubborn part, the bigger part of him, wanted to do otherwise. Zoya deserved far more than what mess he had scrawled down on paper.

          Looking at the ground that had littered pages and notebooks all around, he took out another parchment from the drawer. He reached for his pen and ink, hand poised, ready to start scribbling again.

          Confidence washed over him as the tip of the quill touched the blank page. 

          But his mind couldn't come up with something new.

          “Saints, come on,” muttered Nikolai, moving to put down the pen. But due to his haste and frustrated movements, he knocked down the small bottle of ink to his right. He let out a panicked yelp. The dark liquid instantly drenched the parchment to black, as well as the other notebooks that were within reach. Some of it even dripped onto his rather expensive shirt. 

          But even as the ink soiled more important documents and files on the desk, his hand instantly moved to grab the blue ribbon and put it away from the trickling liquid. He checked the strip of cloth with worried eyes and careful fingers. Relief flooded in his chest when it didn’t have any stain.

          "What a great night,” he mumbled. 

          Nikolai sat back down to his chair, the ribbon still in his hand. The silk fabric felt smooth on his darkened fingers, and it struck him how contrast the colors looked like against his skin. A shade of blue against black. The clear sky behind the storm clouds looming over land. 

          The girl who had the raging seas in her eyes and the boy who kept a beast in his heart. 

          He could still remember the first time he had caught a glimpse of the ribbon, back when they were no one else but a prince and a soldier fighting tooth and nail for Ravka’s last stand in the Fold. 

          It was the day he felt as if he was finally seeing the end of his short life as he plummeted to the ground. The demon had just faded away from gripping his mind, freeing him from the vicious and primal urges to inflict violence on everything. But even when relief flooded through his chest, there were no words to explain the helplessness and fear he felt right after.

          The rush of air on his skin had been strong enough to bring him out of his delirium, and the next thing he could process was the ground closer and closer. It took him a second to realize that he was falling. Most likely to his death. 

          That was the time that fear set in. It wasn't like any other—it was the sudden helplessness that plagued his chest, a deep, hurtful emotion he was so familiar with, and he had vowed to himself that he would do anything to never have to feel it again. 

          And yet as he plummeted to his certain death, he realized that there were things out of his own control. Cruel as it had been, he wished, in the littlest time he had left, that he was able to think of all the people who had given their blood and life onto Ravka’s crumbling grounds, to honor them for continuing to fight for the country that failed them over and over again. 

          But there were so many names, so many lives. There was never enough time to mourn. 

          This country gets you in the end, brother. 

          Dominik's last words echoed in his mind, bitter and cold as the snow that seeped the blood from his wounds. Perhaps his old friend was right, after all. Ravka was never forgiving to anyone, not even to its king. 

          Nikolai was a fool to think that for once he’d be spared for trying to give it his all.

          The ground got closer, his fall going faster. He closed his eyes.

          Good riddance. 

          Then he felt it—the softest flutters of the wind that seemed to envelope his body in a gentle embrace that somehow reminded him of how her mother had used to hold him when he was younger. He almost smiled. Maybe there was a better place for him than where he once was.

          But the bitter part of him was heartless, the voice harsh in his ears as it told him that there was nothing at the end for him; nothing but the endless torment in his own hell, to remind him of the mistakes his forefathers had made, along with his own selfish intentions. 

          Maybe he wasn’t any different from the demons that would greet him at the end. They would welcome him with open arms and unkind sneers, and he would have to live by it. 

          The impact was abrupt. A bruising grip circled around his arm and stopped him from landing hard. The place where he had landed was comforting to say the least, but firm at the same time. It wasn’t the ground, and he was very sure that it wasn’t water either, as there wasn’t any nearby.

          His eyes snapped open. 

          The first thing he thought of was the seas. The relentless, unforgiving seas that had been his home for a few years. He longed for them, and it settled the ache in his chest. But as his mind came about and his eyes adjusted, he realized that he wasn’t dead. 

          He wasn’t dead. 

          A huff shook him out of his train of thoughts. He blinked frantically, trying to make sense of his surroundings. It took him a moment to grasp that he was staring back at a woman’s face, and the seas he thought he was looking at were actually her eyes. They sparked with sharpness that adorned her known ruthless personality, but underneath was a relief that Nikolai didn’t expect.

          Zoya Nazyalensky shook her head in disbelief. “About time you opened your eyes,” she said, her breaths catching in—exhaustion? Relief? He didn’t know. Her arm around his shoulders tightened as a smirk twitched its way to her lips. “Snap out of your daze. You’re alive.”

          For once, Nikolai Lantsov, the man who prided himself of being able to talk his way through everything, was at a loss for words. He only looked back at her, mouth half-agape in bewilderment. 

          You’re alive.

          Did he even deserve to be? She had saved him from the inevitable death that loomed over him just a moment ago. He was still breathing. He was alive. 

          Nikolai let out a breath, and it came out shaky as if he had taken a plunge in an ice-cold water and resurfaced again. “I—” he started, and then shook his head. His mouth opened and closed for a few more times, still trying to find the right words to say. A lot came in at once, and yet amidst the many possibilities that seemed reasonable, only one word breathed to life from him. “Why?”

          The raven-haired woman scoffed. “Can’t have the last member of the Lantsov bloodline dying on all of us now, yes?”

          A beat passed, and then a laugh of disbelief bubbled from his throat. Around them, the smell of gunpowder and blood and death was sharp, brutal enough to cut through the flesh of the reality they were in. And yet behind the unkind reminders of the war, something sweet still wafted through the air, an familiar scent that Nikolai couldn’t quite place. 

          Was it flowers?

          He looked back at the squaller who still had an arm around him. There wasn’t a time he could remember that he had been this close to her. They were of the opposite sides—he among the First Army and she among the Grisha. Even during the few meetings they were in the same room, a distance was always between them, whether it was from across the table or the farthest side of the room. 

          Now up close, Nikolai felt as if he was really seeing her for the first time. 

          Her eyebrows were drawn tight as she stared back at him, eyes narrowing slightly. There was still blood smeared to her cheek, and for a moment, worry twinged at his chest when he thought that it was hers. He let his eyes search her face for anything that would give away she was in pain. But when she merely raised an eyebrow at him, her gaze keen as if to scrutinize him, it was only then he was sure she was fine. 

          A thought clicked in his mind, its suddenness startling him. He looked back at the raven-haired squaller in wonder. Wildflowers, he thought. The scent from before, the one that pushed through the stench of the bloodbath of war, was of wildflowers. 

          Zoya huffed. The grip around his shoulders loosened, and her hand that was wrapped around his wrist let go. Nikolai almost stumbled back from the imbalance, but he braced an arm to the sand and held himself up. His ears burned in embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to stare. 

          “If you were going to look at me for a long time, I suppose a few words of gratitude should come with it,” said Zoya in slight annoyance. She looked down at him for a moment, a scowl evident on her face. There was a conflicting expression in her eyes, and Nikolai thought she was going to walk away from him for acting strange. But then she sighed and offered a hand, and relief washed over him. “At least get up to your feet, will you? I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t want the others to see you this way, considering how egotistical you can be.”

          Despite the disdainful remark from her, Nikolai found himself laughing genuinely, and it surprised both him and the squaller in front of him. He never thought he would see himself do something out of sincerity when he had lived all his life hiding behind multiple masks that hid the scared boy underneath. It was pleasant to be reminded that he didn’t have to always pretend. 

          Bless her poison tongue. 

          With a slight shake of his head, he took Zoya’s hand and allowed her to pull him up to his feet. 

          Almost immediately, the world swayed underneath him. It threatened to tip him over, but the raven-haired squaller was already there to hold him up steady. Another laugh escaped his lips, but this time, it was out of embarrassment for having to rely on her yet again. 

          Nikolai looked up and met her eyes, fiery and bright, like a crackling lighting against the stormy sky. A smile found its own way to his lips as he gave her hand a tight squeeze. 

          “Thank you, dearest extraordinary squaller,” he said, and he had to laugh at the first words that he was finally able to say. “I am eternally grateful to you.”

          Zoya didn’t seem to like the nickname as a scowl was beginning to form on her face, but this only made Nikolai chuckle fondly. She lifted her chin up, her usual sharp look returning. It was only then that he realized that he truly hoped that she never lost her valor, the kind that burned behind her eyes and kept her head up high. 

          “I’m glad you know that to yourself,” she said. 

          This made him laugh once again. “I wouldn’t want to forget lest I want to get struck down by lightning.”

          He didn't know if it was fate that decided to put her in the right place at the right time to save him from his fall. But it was such a silly thought that he found himself shaking his head slightly. Maybe it was, or it wasn’t. There were a lot of possibilities. But out of all that, all he knew was that he was thankful to her for saving his life. 

          Ravka needed more people like her. He needed more people like her. 

          And as her hand clutched back at his to acknowledge him, Nikolai never would have thought that it was the start of the unbreakable bond that they had built throughout the years they worked alongside each other. 

          That, and everything in between that led up to now, with the both of them running as regents, suddenly made him feel as if he didn’t deserve her. 

          Aren't you past that thought? a voice said in his mind. You're together now. 

          He sighed and slumped back down onto his chair, the blue ribbon still clutched in his hand. It was during frustrating times like these that his lingering insecurity resurfaced. The thought was ridiculous itself, considering the current status of their relationship. And yet as true as their reality was now, a small part of him, the terrified boy who didn't want to lose the happiness he finally got, wanted to give her something to prove himself that he was worthy of her. 

          So what should he give to a woman who already had everything? He found that it was difficult to answer. Had he still been a king, he would have offered her plenty, and those words and sweet nothings wouldn't have been empty promises. But he was just Nikolai Lantsov now, barely having anything in his name besides the former royal title and the scars and nightmares he bore. 

          What’s a mortal man to a powerful Grisha who was now a living saint? Was he still even worthy of her?

          He shook the thought away. Zoya chose him—and he chose her. Nothing else was powerful enough to change that. 

          How could he make sure it would stay that way? Then he had a sudden urge to call out to someone, but stopped abruptly when he realized that they weren't there anymore. Nikolai sank back to his seat further, a bittersweet smile touching his lips. 

          Usually, Nikolai’s feet would drag him to the labs, seeing that it was still occupied even at the latest hours of the day. He would always find the Fabrikator there, hunched down and scribbling notes on the notebook at his side. David had never minded Nikolai storming in the labs with his still intact energy, and instead would immediately start talking about another idea that came up to his mind. Then the rest of the hours would be spent trading technical terms about their blueprints and Nikolai telling David to get back to his wife for the night. 

          But more often than not, their conversations shifted to personal ones, with David asking which option was better to pamper Genya with, and Nikolai would watch in amusement as the known quiet Fabrikator was suddenly in a jumbled mess of words and questions, all just to be able to make his wife happy. 

          Nikolai wished he had the man's knack for anything to gift to his beloved so he wouldn't have to be racking his head to come up with anything. 

          He let out a sigh, looking out at the window to his left. Snow fell in soft flutters outside, his windowsill coated with layers of white. A vase near the window caught his eye, the bright yellow color of the flower planted in it wasn't too difficult to notice. A thin sheet of snow had already lined its stem, and it took him a moment to remember that the flower wasn't supposed to be out in the cold. 

          In a rush, Nikolai jumped out of his seat and made a beeline to the window, quickly closing the glass pane. He muttered a few curses as he looked at the plant with careful eyes. 

          "They're called sunflowers for a reason, Lantsov. What are you doing?" he mumbled to himself, dusting the snow off from the flower's petals. He had totally forgotten to move it away from the window when he brought it out this morning. Then with a sigh, he said, "Sorry about that, pretty." 

          At least it didn't look wilted after being exposed too long. The cold was still harsh despite winter almost coming to an end, and he could feel that it wouldn't tone down any time soon. 

          He took the vase back with him to the desk, putting it on the far side and away from the spilled ink. A fond smile made its way to his lips as he touched a finger to one of the sunflower petals. It still was a bit bemusing to him when Zoya had handed it to him one night with the usual frown on her face but also with a faint redness on her cheeks. And for someone who had been used to having all the things he wanted, Nikolai was floored and at loss for words when he took the vase with shaking hands. 

          "I was tending to my garden earlier when I noticed I didn’t have that kind yet. So I figured—well, for a change of scenery in your office. It looks dull in here," Zoya had said in a grumble. Then she dropped her hands to her sides, averted her eyes. If it were still possible, he noticed that the flush in her cheeks only became more evident. "It reminded me of you too." 

          Nikolai couldn't deny the flutter in his chest over her words, his gaze softening as he brought a hand to her face and gently turned her to him. There was doubt pooling behind her eyes, giving away the terrified part of her over something new to her. And if Nikolai were to be honest, he himself was afraid too, with the exhilarating feeling of finally having the happiness and contentment he so longed for finally at reach, he vowed to do anything not to lose it. Not to lose her. 

          So he gave her a tender smile, the kind that he hoped spoke the assurance they both needed. "It's beautiful," he said. Just like you, his mind supplied after a moment, and he felt his ears burn in embarrassment for wanting to say such a cheesy line. Then he gently brushed a thumb to her cheek, lowered his forehead to hers, and whispered, "Thank you." 

          A beat passed, and Nikolai worried for a moment that Zoya might shrink back away from him. But then the doubt faded completely from her eyes, replaced by the softness she never often showed. She let out a relieved sigh and lifted a hand to touch his wrist. Turning her face to his palm, she pressed a light kiss on his skin that sent his chest fluttering again.

          "You're welcome," she whispered back. 

          Tears had stung at his eyes that time; his heart felt so full of her, and had it not been already hers from the start, he was sure that there still wasn't anything he could do if it suddenly decided to give itself to her. 

          Nikolai gave a breathless chuckle, wiping at his eyes with his free hand. "Never fancied you to be a romantic," he said. 

          This earned a light laugh from Zoya, and he felt her toe connect to his shin in a playful kick. "Way to ruin the moment, Lantsov." She pulled away to look at him with narrowed eyes. "Just make sure you take care of it. Don't expose it to the cold that much. It prefers summer more than anything." 

          "Of course," said Nikolai, "I think they were called sunflowers for a reason." 

          Another kick to his leg, and he bit back a chuckle. "I'm serious. You can be dumb sometimes."

          "You wound me, dearest." 

          "It was actually my goal from the start." Then she paused, another sigh coming from her lips. "It's actually not an easy task, if I'd be honest. You'd have to tend to it everyday and make sure it's being taken care of properly. Protect it from the harsh cold of winters, and you'll see the wonders of it when it blooms in summer." 

          Ever the practical one. Nikolai chuckled lightly. "Don't worry, I'll make sure to keep a close eye on it every day." He winked, and then with a playful grin, he added, "I got to say, I didn't know you can be poetic with your words." 

          A hand was shoved to his face, making him laugh as he took a step back. "Alright, I'm leaving," Zoya declared as she made her way to the door. 

          Nikolai followed her, the grin never leaving his lips. "Should I send you written reports about the plant's progress every morning?" he asked as he opened the door for her. 

          "Saints, you're insufferable," said Zoya exasperatedly, but she was fighting a smile on her lips. She looked up at him with a pointed look. "Make sure you don't forget what I told you. Don't let it get exposed too long in the cold."

          "Of course, dear," replied Nikolai. "Wouldn't want to forget such an important thing." 

          "Idiot." Then, to his surprise, Zoya stood on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his jaw. He blinked, feeling his ears burn. She gave him one of her rare, soft smiles, and he felt his heart stutter in his chest. "Good night, Nikolai." And she was off. 

          Nikolai smiled fondly at the memory, his fingers brushing at the petals of the sunflower. He'd always known that Zoya wasn't the type to show affections through words; she showed them through actions instead, and whenever she did, it always left him floored and his heart fluttering. It sounded silly—he was acting like a lovesick fool. But perhaps he really was one, and he would always try to show his love for her in his own way as well. 

          This reminded him of his still nonexistent idea of what to give to her, and he slumped back down to his chair. He stared absentmindedly at the sunflower in front of him. What should he give to her? Jewelries, maybe? A necklace? A ring? Nikolai scratched the thought. It didn't sound too ideal to give her the usual kind of gifts. He wanted it to be meaningful, something like the sunflower she gave him. It was a part of her, a token that came from her heart. So what should—

          What if the winter is just too long and hard? What if it can’t bloom again?

          Zoya's former distressed question echoed in his ears, and Nikolai blinked. Then slowly, an idea started forming in his mind. He smiled softly. 

          She had given him a part of her heart, so he would give back a part of his. 

          Nikolai hurriedly cleaned up the table before scrambling to get a fresh new parchment from the drawers. All the possible layouts for his idea flowed continuously in his mind and he tried his best to remember it all as he let the quill in his hand glide easily on paper. 

          He worked nonstop for hours. He worried that it would stop his momentum if he took even a short break. Besides, once his mind focused on doing something, he wouldn't stop at anything until he finished it. 

          Eventually, the blueprints he had working for were done. It was only when he finally dropped his quill to the side did he feel the numbness starting to creep up at his hand and to his arm. But he didn't seem to mind as he looked proudly at the finished plans. They were probably the best ones he had for a while, and he'd make sure that they came to life once Zoya gives him the approval. 

          With a new burst of energy, Nikolai stood up and began rolling the plans one by one. He checked the pocket watch on his table, seeing that it was already half past the fourth hour in the morning. The last thing he remembered was it was only the tenth hour of the night, and he was sure he hadn't been sitting by his table that long. He shrugged the thought away. Not that it mattered to him, anyway. 

          Nikolai then carefully wrapped the plans with the blue velvet ribbon, holding the prints securely into place. A contented smile escaped his lips. He couldn't wait for Zoya to see them. But a thought occurred to him, and he clutched the papers in his arm. Perhaps he should leave it by her door so she'd see it the first thing in the morning. 

          It's already late, you idiot, a voice in his mind said. 

          But I'm just gonna leave it by her door, he reasoned out. 

          He decided to follow his impulse, and the next thing he knew, he was already making his way through the corridors of the Palace and towards Zoya's chambers. The hall narrowed to a familiar turn. Her door was already on sight, the insignia of the double eagle emblazoned on the surface. Nikolai stopped in front of it, looking down to the blueprints in his hand. A soft smile twitched at his lips. He hoped she'd like them. 

          But as he was just about to leave the papers by the threshold, he noticed that the door was left ajar, allowing a glimpse of the dim interiors of her chambers. He raised an eyebrow and pushed the door open. Zoya wasn't the type to leave it unlocked, even when there were royal guards patrolling nearby. She also wasn't the type to forget that easily, either.  Well, that's if she's exhausted to the point of not caring about anything so she could rest straight away. 

          When he stepped inside her chambers, the first thing he noticed was the still burning lamp on her desk at the opposite side of the room. The pile of papers didn't escape his eyes as well, and he was surprised to see that there were still documents left. Zoya had always been punctual with her work, doing it nonstop until she finished. It was both their bad habit they often reprimanded each other with, but as the stubborn people that they were, they couldn't seem to stop working themselves to the point of exhaustion. 

          Nikolai spotted her at the right side of the main room, sleeping soundly at the couch with a paper still clutched in her hand. A mug sat by the carpet near the furniture's foot, and it was most likely an unfinished serving of coffee. He let out a light chuckle as he approached her, careful not to make a sound to wake her up. She was still dressed in her kefta underclothes and even her boots were on. Had she gone through the paperworks right after her training with the Second Army? Nikolai’s eyebrows furrowed in worry. At this rate, she was going to get sick with fatigue. And as much as he appreciated her determination in finishing the task, he couldn't afford her brushing off her physical state just to get the paperworks done. 

          With a quiet sigh, he put the plans on the table and proceeded to unlace Zoya's boots. It was a bit of a challenge, considering how she was a light sleeper. She grumbled at some point and turned to her back, a tight scowl suddenly on her face. Nikolai stopped for a moment, but she didn’t move any further, and even started snoring softly. He couldn't help but chuckle. A sleeping Zoya was just as scary as instructor Zoya. He figured that he wouldn't want to have her wrath unleashed at him because he disturbed her sleep. 

          After another minute, he was finally able to remove her boots and he set them at the foot of the couch. Then he took the paper out of her hands, setting it on the table on top of yet another pile. Perhaps he'd take some of the workload off her shoulders, as he didn't have much on his plate. At least she wouldn't have to work late again. 

          Zoya shivered in her place before curling up into a fetal position, her arms coming to wrap them around her. Nikolai immediately got up and walked towards her bedroom to fetch some blankets, which he then draped over her shoulders, tucking them tightly around her. She sighed in relief and nuzzled further under the covers, yet the scowl remained on her face. 

          Nikolai looked at her fondly, brushing a stray hair off her forehead. He'd never know what he had done to deserve her, but he would always be grateful that their paths wove together at the end. Loving her was the best thing he ever did in his life. 

          Leaning down to her, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, his touch featherlight. "Rest well, my love," he whispered. 

          He reached for the blueprints from the small table and walked towards her desk to put them there. Then he took a note out of his pocket, placing it on top of the parchment. The words on it sounded cheesy, but it was the first thing he came up with and he was sure it's more romantic than anything he could think of. He considered himself a romantic, anyway. 

          Stealing one last glimpse of the still sleeping Zoya, Nikolai left her chambers with a smile on his face. 

          As he walked back to his own rooms, his mind reminded him of the words he had written on the note.

          I will always seek to make it summer for you. 

          And he would for her, always. 

*****

A/N: yeah it is i, and i came back to life and wrote a bit again ;-; 

After this mess of a fic, I just want to share my appreciation of this ficitional character that is Nikolai Lantsov. (Sort of tw: mentions of anxiety and depression)

It was during Crooked Kingdom when Sturmhond was introduced and I would have to admit that he already gave me a good first impression. And funny as it may sound, he reminded me of myself—the can’t seem to shut up kind of person, and I really thought “lmao is this me”. And even though his page time was really short, along with Zoya and Genya that I also absolutely loved instantly, I already appreciated his character so much.

By that time I was already starting a Tumblr account. I was going through the tags (bc I have literally low patience not to look for spoilers) and saw that Sturmhond was Nikolai Lantsov from the very first Gv book series.

So I read the remaining books of the Grishaverse, and became completely attached to its characters. But I knew Nikolai would be my fave. Honestly, I didn't find him rather very explosive in Shadow and Bone series than I did in their short appearance in Crooked Kingdom. All though I absolutely loved most of his annoying lines and bad jokes, there was no denying that he was a total ass in the first series.

And yet as King of Scars was released, I still wanted to read more abt this annoying dude. KoS have been dragging for most part, but knowing Nikolai, as well as Zoya, deeper really didn't disappoint. It was the book where I realized, "Ah, my kin" with the backstory he had.

The people pleaser. The lonely, ignored child who only wanted to make his parents proud. The kid who can't sit still. The annoying and talkative and insufferable person in the group. The person who would still try to smile through the pain. They were the ones I saw in him that I knew I had in me. That was why he became a personal fave, despite all the flaws he had.

Writing this fic again really helped a lot, as I was really spiraling down back to my depression for the past week. I've almost forgotten this one when I started it a month ago and the burnout really hit hard at that time. I lost the passion to write, and for someone who uses it to keep from relapsing, it had become really frustrating when I couldn't find my old self who had written so much.

So it was like a breath of fresh air to be able to write again, being able these overwhelming thoughts and anxiety attacks I've trying to fight off down to words, and writing about my fave character going through the same dilemma is something that can be personal. As much as it didn't mean that much to others, I really appreciate and love this ficitional character, and he'd be my very fave.

tl;dr I'm totally a Nik, and he'd be my forever fave character.

P.S.

To all who are going through tough times right now, whether it's sadness or burnout or stress over a lot of things, I hope you find your peace of mind soon.

To the ones that lost their passion in doing the things they used to love, may you have the inspiration and urge to do them again. No matter how slow your progress would be, no matter how much time it would take to get back, I hope you find the happiness you've felt in doing those things once again.

And to the ones who feel lost and exhausted and weary, I hope you find your desired path once again.

It was never going to be easy to push through it, but hey, you'd been there before and you got through. I know you'll be able to do it again because you're stronger than what you give yourself credit for. Never forget that.

Stay safe and healthy, always. 🥰

[shysneeze]

good enough (draco malfoy x fem!reader)

Good Enough

Draco Malfoy x fem!Slytherin!Reader 

*based loosley on the song ‘line without a hook’ by ricky montgomery*  

Request: can I ask for Draco x reader where the reader is sassy, but also kind Slytherin (like one of the kind Slytherin)?? And Draco has a huge crush on her? Super fluffy? ~ @lennylangdraws 

Warnings: low self-esteem, angst, smidge of house stereotyping, i don’t know the meaning of fluff im so sorry 

Authors note: you asked for fluff and I have no excuses for how this turned out except this song has been stuck in my head for weeks now. I hope you like it anyway despite the angst... i tried to make it fluffy make up at the end?

Also, I’m not saying this is a prequel to vulnerable love, but it kinda fits... pretty sure it makes vulnerable love hurt more though.)

.

Draco wasn’t sure it was possible to want back what he’s never had.

He never knew being stuck in the awkward phase of being an ‘almost couple’ is something he could miss, that he’d ever long to feel the heat that would creep up his cheeks when their eyes met, to feel the nauseating butterflies flap in his stomach when she smiled at him or the jolt of nervous energy that would rip through him whenever their fingers accidentally grazed each other’s under tables or in corridors.

Yet now that those little things are beyond his grasp, he’s desperate for them again, desperate for her. It might be easier to miss her if she were gone, rather than just sitting at the other end of the Slytherin table, or across the room during classes, it would be easier not to see her, the constant reminder of what he’s allowed him self to ruin.

They weren’t supposed to get along, every conflicting personality trait dooming them to a life as enemies. Everyone knows her, the ‘nice’ Slytherin. It’s a title given to her by her classmates, the too-cocky Gryffindors who can’t see past Slytherin’s bad reputation as bullies and snobs, a bad-reputation fuelled by Draco Malfoy himself.

No one could have expected them to end up the way they did, dates in Hogsmeade or hushed conversations by the common room fire in the early hours of the morning and afternoons spent by the lake. No one could have expected them to get along so well.

Draco knows that everyone has expected this though, for them to fall apart before they’ve even had the chance to begin. It’s what they’ve expected of him all along after all, to break her heart.

He’s pretty sure he hasn’t got the right to be looking for her like this, seeking her out desperately to get her back, once again deluded into believing he ever had her in the first place. He’s the one who called it off in a moment of certainty that it was the right thing to do, a selfless act. And so it’s wrong for him to be here right now, back in their secret spot.

She’s exactly where he assumed she would be, curled beneath the tree she was always affectionately calling theirs. His entire body tenses painfully at the sight of her, face hidden in her palms and body shaking, not from the cold, but from the trembling of barely silenced sobs.

He wonders if it’s his racing heart that she can hear that alerts her to his presence and has her looking up from her hands, teary eyes meeting his in surprise. Then, she pulls her brows into a well-justified scowl and a lump forms in Draco’s throat that he can’t seem to swallow.

“What are you doing here?”

An incredibly valid question for which Draco can only provide selfish answers. It seems silly to tell her that he’s hear to win her back, and futile given her growing anger. Yet he won’t be able to live with himself if he doesn’t, miserable without her.

“I miss you.” He gulps honestly. “Truthfully, I’ve been a mess without you.”

“Merlin, Draco.” She gasps out a laugh of disbelief. “Maybe you should have thought of that before you started ignoring me. Frankly, that isn’t really my issue.”

“I know.” He sighs apologetically. “I know, I didn’t mean-“

“Just get it over with, Draco.” She rolls her eyes. “Say your piece and leave me alone.”

He nods, taking hesitant steps forward towards her, the frost coated grass crunching under foot. She avoids his eyes as he takes a seat beside her, staring determinedly at her lap and making a conscious attempt to hide the quickly accumulating tears.

“Aren’t you cold?”

She lets out a loud exasperated sigh and refuses him an answer. He agrees with the sentiment of it, regretted the stupidity of it the minute it left his lips. Still, he leans forward to pull the Slytherin scarf from his neck and twists himself to allow him to wrap it loosely around hers, fussing with it until he’s reassured that she’ll be warmer for it.

“You looked cold.”

“Tis’ the season.” She mumbles sarcastically.

Her sarcasm is another thing he’s missed from her, and it draws a momentary smile to his face. Then, the moment is over, and his eyes have fixed on the tear stains painting her cheeks, proof of his own fatal mistake.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

She scoffs.

“Two weeks overdue.”

“I know.” He agrees sheepishly. “I know, (Y/N).”

“Then why are you only here now?” She questions. “Why did you do it in the first place? You can’t just act like you have feelings for someone then disappear and ignore them for weeks!”

Her voice wobbles and cracks at the end, much to her own dismay, and each breath she takes is jagged in the way one’s always is when trying to conceal tears. He watches her press the balls of her palm to her eyes in frustration, letting out a small whimper that has every inch of him aching with remorse.

Part of him, a self-preserving part, tells him to lie. It’s a side of himself he’s grown to hate recently, the side that pushed him into this mess in the first place, and so he knows better than to bargain with it again. So, with a deep breath, he chooses to tell the truth, he chooses to be vulnerable.

“I’m not good enough.”

Although exhaled in a whisper the revelation is startlingly loud. Perhaps its due to the serene quiet always felt on crisp cold days like today, where the sun hangs low in the sky and the lake lies unimaginably still, or perhaps it’s the raw honestly in the statement that makes it seem so alarmingly bold.

She blinks at him, lips parting in surprise and brows furrowing in confusion or concern, Draco isn’t sure. He can hear his pulse in his ears, a slight trembling in his hands that he knows has nothing to do with the chilly breeze. He’s done something profound, terrifying even, and opened that vulnerably part of himself to someone, with no control over what happens to it next.

“What?” She manages.

“Everyone knows it, (Y/N).” He explains nervously. “I’m a terrible match for you.” 

“Who the hell is everyone” She frowns. “Since when did they matter?”

There is a certain protective edge to her voice that he doesn’t deserve, but it replays itself in his head over and over, clinging to it for hope. It takes him a moment to let it go again, to push it down and answer.

“They’re right.” He sighs. “You’re too good a person for me, I’m too Slytherin.”

The concern instantly leaves her eyes, she sits forward with an urgent look of disbelief and another of her signature scoffs. She’s giving him an inspective look, trying to figure out if he’s serious, or if he’s suddenly picked up a new, strange sense of humour.

“You’re kidding, right?”

He isn’t quite sure what to say and his silence fuels another disbelieving shake of her head.

“I am a Slytherin, Draco.” She exclaims. “No matter what those big-headed Gryffindors are always saying, I was sorted into Slytherin and I’m proud of it- you’re supposed to be proud too, not agreeing with those stupid stereotypes.”

“It’s different.” He exhales in frustration. “I am those stupid stereotypes!”

Draco Malfoy has never been considered modest.

Self-confidence isn’t a trait earned in the Malfoy family clan, but rather inherited between generations, a birth right bestowed upon them the minute they are old enough to understand. It’s a confidence Draco has always been comfortably protected by, unwaveringly sure of his own self-importance gifted to him by his ancestors

Yet something about the infamously kind (Y/N) (Y/L/N) has him constantly falling apart at the seams with the need to be good enough for her. He’s never met anyone like her, no one so capable of making him question the unwarranted self-importance he was raised on as a Malfoy.

Even now, wrapped unceremoniously in his scarf, late falling orange leaves lying in her hair and her cheeks stained with tears, he’s never felt so undeserving of a person in his life. She’s a lady, and he’s just a boy, he’s heartbreakingly inadequate.

“I just want to be someone you can be proud to call yours.”

With his eyes solemnly fixed on his lap, anywhere other than her reaction, he jumps slightly at her cold fingertips on his hand, prying them from the tightly curled fists he has no recollection of clenching and slipping her fingers into his.

“Draco, look at me.” She pleads softly. “Please.”

He does so slowly with her encouraging squeeze of his hand, she’s smiling at him, sympathetic, but unpatronizing.

“I am proud.” She states softly, but confidently. “I don’t want some perfect golden boy, I want you, Draco.”

Three words he never knew he needed from her, ‘I want you’, and they fill a space in his chest that was gaping for reassurance. She’s amazed him again as she always does, she has a talent for making him speechless than no one else has ever mastered.

“You’re so harsh on yourself you haven’t even realised how much you’ve grown, Draco.” She informs. “You’re not the bully you used to be, you’re not the carbon copy of your father anymore, and I’m sorry that no one has allowed you to move on from your past to see your present.”

She smiles sheepishly at his dumfounded expression and gives him the moment he needs to collect his thoughts and process it all. Then, slowly, he’s shaking his head in surprise, letting out a soft sigh.

“You’re too good to me.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” She jokes. “I think I straightened that misconception out already.”

“No but- you’re just so…”

The heat burning his cheeks is worse than ever before, he feels almost overwhelmed by it all, her compliments, her smile, that genuine look in her eyes that convinces him she’s unwaveringly sure of every word she’s said.

“Thank you.” He blurts finally. “Especially after I- well I ruined it all.”

“Yeah, I won’t lie, you really fucked up.” She admits. “But you’ve made an honest recovery…”

“Thank you for giving me a second chance.” He exhales gratefully. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“I was going to tell you to piss off after the ‘are you cold’ bit to be honest.” She chuckles. “Stayed because you gave me your scarf- which I’m stealing by the way.”

“Take it.” He urges, a smile finding his lips for what he’s sure is the first time in two weeks, since his misguided decision to end their almost-relationship. “Take whatever you want from me, it’s yours.”

She lets out a shaky breath and gulps. She purposely drops her gaze momentarily to his lips before retuning them to his eyes again, a gesture that has his eyes widening and the tips of his ears turning scarlet. Slipping her fingers from between his, she tentatively cups one of his cheeks, fingertips grazing the red colour blossoming on his pale skin.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I-“ He chokes. “Yes.”

She smiles nervously, reassuring him that he’s not the only one flustered. Then, curling her free hand around the lapel of his jacket, she pulls him closer with eyes shut. Their lips are cold when they meet, and slightly chapped by the cool air, but neither care. Draco places a hand on her waist, pulling her somehow closer as their lips begin to move hesitantly together. She lets out a soft content sigh, sending a breath of warm air into the kiss and causing him to positively melt inside. She’s done it again, completely incapacitated him with such a simple thing as a kiss.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” He exhales.

She lets out a giddy laugh as she pulls back, forehead still pressed to his and eyes still shut.

“There are worst ways to go than my lips.”

He knows, he’s very quickly decided that’s the only way he ever wants to go.  She presses her lips to his again for a split second before pulling back completely, he aches for the feeling again, greedy for it now that he’s felt it once.

“Next time, talk to me.” She pleads. “If you ever feel like you’re not good enough, I’ll be there to convince you otherwise, but don’t just disappear.”

“I won’t.” He assures. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know that, Draco.” She smiles sadly. “I just want you to know that you can talk to me.”

“I do.”

The hard part, that initial step, is over. He’s leapt into the unknown, flung himself into the terrifying depths of vulnerability, and there is no going back, but he never wants to, he never wants to leave her again.

“Also if I ever hear you speaking shit about our house again I swear to-“

She’s cut off by his lips once again on hers, startled only for a minute before she’s grinning, grateful to see his confidence returning. She can feel his own grin on her lips and the vibrations of a light laugh before he’s pulling back again.

“Consider me warned.”

“Good.” She exhales. “Or I’ll be confiscating your tie next.”

. 

(Authors note: its not my favourite but if i rewrote it one my time i was flinging my laptop out my window... its not particularly proofread.)

[parvulous-writings]

Medbay magic // Angela Ziegler (Mercy) x Reader

Request:    Ello, It's me,Ya bor. So I wanted to request a lil' something- Can we get a one shot where Angela (Mercy, for those of yall that don't know (: )nurses the reader back to health, but ends up falling for the reader with all the time they spend together? Then she's super confused about her feelings and doesn't know what to do about it, and she's too scared to tell the reader, but... turns out the reader has always kinda liked Angela too, and they confess to Angela-And they all live happily ever after- 😭🤌No but fr ily bor ❤

Requested by: @rey-is-not-a-skywalker​​

Summary: The reader and Doctor Ziegler develop feelings for each other :)

Warnings: N/A

Words: 1.3K

Notes: I would like to thank one of my old classmates for the word soup conversation :) My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!

Not my gif

You had been in the medical bay for nearly a week now. It wasn’t so bad, you supposed, you were being looked after well enough. You were frequently seen by several different doctors, one whom you greatly preferred over the others. Your favourite doctor was none other than Angela Ziegler, the best medic on the force. This wasn’t just your opinion either, this was just a common fact that everyone accepted. Under her care you had been nursed back from near death to almost perfect health. You swore on your own life that she was magic, it was like nothing you had ever seen. That wasn’t the only magic she used though, you were sure of it. She had managed to work her way into your heart as well, and you held her higher than any other. 

During your time in the medbay, you had several deep conversations with Angela, when there wasn’t all that much for her to do, and she needed something to keep her mind busy. Most of the time they started as nonsense words that she would respond to fondly- word soup, she dubbed it. It was mostly obscure facts or some line of thought that didn’t make much sense.  Angela’s personal favourite conversation was one from when you were half sedated due to the pain of your wounds, and you started spouting drivel about Sciron- an old figure in Greek mythology, who would ask passers by to help him was his feet.  When they knelt before him, he would suddenly give them a kick over the cliff into the sea, where the victim's body was devoured by a huge monstrous sea turtle which used to swim under the rocks. How you remembered about such an obscure figure in common knowledge Ziegler didn’t know, but your words were even stranger.  “What if the turtle was Sciron’s brother?” You posed, staring up at the ceiling as Angela patted down your bed, making sure you were comfortable. She laughed quietly at the absurd idea and shook her head slowly.  “As interesting as the theory is, I do not think that that is what the Greeks were striving for when telling that tale...”  “But why else would he feed the turtle, well, people?”  “I do not know- but there are many instances of strange stories such as this, yes?”  “I s’pose so..” You mumbled, pursing your lips in thought. “But like it could be his half brother, right? Cause that would explain-”  “Quiet down now, you need rest, not stress over fiction turtles and the men who feed them.” 

Why was this Angela’s most fondly remembered conversation? Purely because of it’s ridiculousness. It wasn’t often that such strange topics popped up; no matter what Captain Amari would have had people believe.  Plus you didn’t remember it, and thus she could use it to entertain you in future.

Soon enough, Angela was conflicted as she walked to deliver you the news of your discharge from the medical bay. She was happy for you; she understood how frustrating it can be to be cooped up in one place for any prolonged amount of time. But she was almost... Melancholy, beneath that joy. With you leaving the medbay, she was unsure when she’d get to see you properly next. She didn’t get much free time when off the field or out of the medbay. Most of that free time was spent taking care of herself and her mental health, and was often only late at night. She wanted to spend more time with you so badly, that it made her heart practically ache from the thought of not seeing you for an extended amount of time. She had become enamoured with you, as unprofessional as that was.  As she approached your bed, clipboard in hand, she took a deep breath. She forced a wide smile onto her angelic features, and cleared her throat to capture your attention when she got close enough.  “Any news, Doc?” You ask with a small smile, to which she nods.  “Yes, actually. You’ve finally been deemed fit to leave the med bay.” At this information you looked rather happy, and Angela couldn’t fault you for such a feeling. 

As you started to sit up and swing your legs over the side of the bed, Ziegler also moved round to offer you some help should you require it. Your legs are a little weak after staying in bed for so long, so you are a little wobbly  when you first get to your feet, but you don’t fall over, which is a very good sign in Angela’s eyes. “Thank you, Angela...” You smile at her, referring to everything she had done for you during your time in the medical ward.  “Bitte.” She replied, quite curtly. “Before you go, actually, there’s a couple of things I’d like to talk to you about...” Your brows furrow as she keeps talking.  “Is... Is something wrong?”  “No, no, not at all.” Angela assured you, understanding why you may be anxious about her words- usually when doctors or medical practitioners say something like that it’s never really good. “Far from it, actually.” This put your mind partially at ease, but not by much. She tried to give you what was an encouraging smile, but all it really managed to do was set your heart a-fluttering. Angela cleared her throat quietly.  “So- it may seem a little bit out of the blue for me to say something like this, I am well aware.” She started, trying to keep herself calm as she started to open up a little bit. “During your time under my care, I have... Grown rather fond of you; attached even.” With every word that passed her lips, you found yourself more and more awestruck. You silence seemed to unnerve Ziegler, causing her nerves to skyrocket. She remained outwardly calm, though. She didn’t know what to add to what she had said to improve it or make it less awkward, so she just stood there, tapping her fingers anxiously against the others. 

“Really?” Is all you can think to ask, your voice laced with an incredulous wonder that sounded closely akin to adoration. You would have asked if she were joking, but you knew very well that Angela wouldn’t joke about something like this. “I...” You trailed off, trying to think of how to phrase your next sentence adequately. “I’m rather fond of you too.” You settled to using her own words to describe your feelings. The look on Angela’s face told you that she probably didn’t think she’d get this far. “Oh...” She seemed at loss for words. 

You both stood their for a moment, trying to think of what to say to each other in light of these revelations. After about a minute or so, you broke the silence. “So.. Would you want to get a coffee, or tea sometime?” Your words seemed to break Angela out of a daze, and she gave you a rather large smile.  “Ah, yes, that would be lovely... Tea, and maybe some chocolates? I can bring some Swiss chocolate... It’s the best.” She told you with a quiet chuckle, and you nodded eagerly.  “That sounds good to me... What about time- when are you free?”  Angela had to think for a moment, “I’m off shift next Thursday.. What about five o’clock?” She asks, and you nod happily. “Wonderful!” She chuckled. “I shall see you then... I think you should get going before Morrison starts complaining that I’m keeping you back unnecessarily... I do believe he wishes to see you.” She informed, the fondness starting to show through in her voice.  You nod in gratitude.  “Thanks, Angela... Could I call you Angie, now?” You asked, rather cheekily. Angela rolled her eyes a little bit at the question.  “We’ll see. Now get going.” She hit your shoulder playfully, before moving away to fill in the paperwork about you being discharged. She gave you a final wave, and blew you a kiss as you walked out. 

[attack-on-kiwi]

Jean alphabet ?🥲😌

The crush I have on this man is embarrassing-

Jean Kiirstein:

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Jean is a simple guy. Any time he’s around his s/o, he’s content. Usually, he will let them pick what they want to do. He’s not averse to just spending a day tending to the horses and riding around valleys on them. He finds it freeing. It’s especially enjoyable if they two are sharing the ride and his s/o is hugging him just tight enough from behind and laughing into his back. He doesn’t think that will ever stop bringing butterflies into his stomach.

He looks forward to any sort of domestic activity. Sleeping in and holding his s/o from leaving bed, helping them cut up vegetables for breakfast, surprising them with flowers or sweets when he has the opportunity to- anything classic, sweet, and intimate.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

They bring him back to reality. He’s not idealistic in any sense- instead he tends to get lost in his thoughts and can spiral into negative outbursts. He can also become closed off, so having his s/o, who can snap him back to his sense and remind him that not everything has gone to hell (even though, it’s pretty damn close to being so), means the world to him.

Jean is smitten. Another guy who thinks his s/o is the most gorgeous being to ever grace the earth. He thinks they’re the most beautiful when. they’re concentrating on a task. The way they refuse to let anyone or anything get in the way of their objective, no matter how menial or grand, bubbles pride in him.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Jean would drop everything that can be put off to help his s/o. He absolutely hates when they feel upset, and he’s not that good at comforting people. He’ll just crouch down (or bring them down if they’re taller) to eye level and ask them what they need him to do. His voice is soft, laced with concern. 

Jean damn near might tear up himself if his s/o is upset enough. He’ll stay with them for as long as they need to, and then some more. He’s likely going to hover or keep an eye on them for the next few days to make sure they’re truly all right.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Jean wants to get married and have a family. He doesn’t care if the kids are biological or adopted, but he wants kids. He could settle for a son and daughter, but it doesn’t really matter. He’d like at least two kids to keep him on his toes. He aspires to give them the most peaceful life and wants to be present in their lives for anything and everything.

He’s terrified of the idea of becoming a husband and father, but it’s one of the thoughts that keeps him going. He knows he wants his s/o by his side for the rest of their lives. Considering everything they’ve been through, he’s already planning on how to propose.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Jean doesn’t think of being dominant or passive in a relationship. He can take initiative in most cases, but he’s not going to impose on his s/o. He’s present in the relationship, and will often check in with his s/o. to make sure that they’re okay. It’s important to him that they be transparent and aware of how the other is feeling, though he might bury his own feelings quite often.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Being as confrontational as he is, it’s not uncommon to get into fights. He never gets physical with his s/o. The two are rather prone to heated arguments that can escalate to screaming at each other if the conflict is serious enough. 

Jean absolutely hates that he can’t hold himself back. He’s too forthright with his thoughts.. He does try his best not to hit low blows. No matter what, his arguments are based on fact and he won’t rely on jabbing at his s/o’s insecurities to gain an edge during a fight.

He needs his space. Usually, this just means the two separate and cool down a few hours. The longest he will go without speaking to them is a night. First thing in the morning, he’ll try to calmly confront them and apologize for his behavior, asking if they can try to talk the issue out now that they’ve had some rest.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Jean’s a grateful man, even if his slight pessimistic attitude can point you otherwise. He doesn’t verbally say that he’s grateful, but his actions truly speak louder than his words. He’s always got an eye on his s/o, he stops them when they’re overexerting themselves, he can sense when all they need is to be held for a few moments, and he’s always seeking out ways to make their day brighter. 

One way he might allow himself to be vulnerable is sitting behind them in bed and clasping their hands together, kissing each of their knuckles lightly. Jean likes to speak just above a whisper, listing why he loves them.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

No huge secrets. He does hide how he’s feeling at times, especially if he is stressed and doesn’t want them to feel pressured. Jean does press his s/o to tell him whatever is on their mind, though. The two have an honest relationship. You have to be blunt if you want to work with Jean, after all. He doesn’t mind if his s/o needs to keep secrets, as long as it’s nothing serious, like their loyalty to him shifting.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Jean allows himself to be more sensitive around his s/o. Normally, he would never entertain being overtly emotional or softer yet around his s/o, he’s quite different. There’s a gentleness about him which no one gets to see any other time. Truly, he will keep this persona for behind closed doors, but it does seep into his day to day. He’s kinder to people after he’s spent time with his partner. 

He is fighting for the people he loves-- to guarantee they can live fulfilling lives, grow old, then finally die peacefully. It’s all he wants, and having people to fight for is his heaviest inspiration.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

He’s secure with himself in most senses, but there are times when Jean feels like he could be giving his s/o more attention or time. He may feel a twinge of guilt if his s/o starts to deflate at the idea of asking him if he has free time because it hurts that they worry about getting in the way of his work. During these episodes, it’s easy for Jean to become suspicious of other people, specifically other men, that are hovering around his s/o more than before. If it bothers him enough, he will call it out.

Usually, Jean is to ashamed of feeling insecure to outright explain why he’s jealous. His s/o can gauge if he’s uneasy by how clingy he is afterwards.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Jean’s kisses are either shy or extremely passionate. Depending on how much adrenaline is rushing through his body, he can encapsulate his partner in a fiery lip lock that will leave them short of an accidental asphyxiation (sorry I need to shut up). When he’s sleepy or has been missing his s/o, he’s prone to soft, short pecks. He likes to whisper into their lips, most of the time, he will be saying, “Just one more” as he dozes off.

His s/o is his first kiss, so it’s about as awkward as first kisses can get. His mouth and throat were dry. He wasn’t sure if he should tilt his face. They would get close then Jean would fumble, trying to adjust for better access. Finally, he got frustrated and just crashed their lips together for not even a second before pulling away, face glowing pink. Don’t worry, he’s gotten slightly better.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Jean discovers early on. Within months, he’s positive he’s in love with his s/o. He is terrified of telling his partner due to fear of abandonment and humiliation that stems from a childhood of being bullied. (pry this from my cold dead hands). Regardless of how strong he feels, he won’t outright confess his love until the two have been together for a good amount of time. That can amount to months or even a year or so, depending on just how serious he’s feeling about the relationship.

He’s the type of person that is practicing in the mirror how to confess, and unknowingly, his s/o will hear him. If he’s lucky, they feel the same way and just walk in to tell him they love him too and watch his brain short circuit as it processes what just happened. 

On a serious note, though, Jean would be nervous to confess. He’d make a date out of the entire ordeal-- choosing to take his s/o out for a nice dinner and at night, as they’re stargazing in a remote field, he’d hold their hand and say he needs to tell them something. Even in the evening, it’s easy to see him heat up. He’d whisper it at first. His s/o needs to let him collect his thoughts, and as soon as he’s gathered them, he’d confess full throttle. His voice shakes slightly, but his conviction is apparent.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Jean fantasizes of getting married quite often, and this only increases as he gets closer to his s/o. 

He’s honest with his s/o and the topic of marriage comes up in late night conversations quite often. He’s confessed that once the fighting is over, they’ll get married the next day. There’s no proposal, just a promise that keeps the two fighting to live another day. His mother actually gives him her own wedding ring, telling him to get it resized if need be, but she hopes it can become a family heirloom. Jean’s a romantic, and this gets him flustered yet excited.

Peaceful. Marriage with Jean is as mundane as can be. Sure, there’s going to be times when old friends come wreck havoc, but it’s all taken in stride. He likes waking his s/o up with a kiss to the cheek. If they want to pat his hair dry or brush it after his shower, he’ll try distracting them with sly neck kisses. He wants his kids to see how much he loves his spouse and groan in disgust as they try to get their parents to hurry up so they can all eat. Jean’s content/

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

He calls them by their name mostly. Sometimes he’ll shorten it or give them an alternative where it’s the first syllable of their name with -y at the end if possible. 

Jean calls them beautiful and gorgeous when he’s trying to make them laugh.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

The beginning is akin to puppy love. He’s so flustered but curious about everything they do and say. He’s kind to them and chokes up around them when he hasn’t had time to formulate a response. Definitely the type of guy who stares at his s/o wistfully with a dazed grin on his face. He’s been caught doing this to them across the room on multiple occasions. Needless to say-- everyone and their mother knows Jean’s smitten.

He tries to express his feelings by complimenting them. If he can help them out with errands or studying (if they met during the cadet training) he’s more than happy to shave off time to do so. He likes being able to take a load off their shoulders, so he won’t mind doing a little extra work.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Jean acts big, but he gets shy. The only time he’ll ever really kiss his s/o in front of others Is if he’s being teased or egged on and he wants to show he’s not ashamed of his partner. He loves them dearly, but showing affection in public isn’t the biggest priority for him.

 If they’re out in the market, he loves having them hold onto his arm as they lead him wherever the like. If there’s less people around, he won’t argue with locking fingers. His s/o might catch him off guard with some sneaky kisses that are sure to provoke him.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Everything about his hands. They’re not as rough as some other people, though they aren’t insanely soft. He can give amateur massages and knows how to exert just the right amount of pressure to make the experience enjoyable, even for the most fidgety/ticklish s/o. It’s his secret to helping them relax and release pent up tension.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Jean loves romance. He loves being in love and having an excuse to try his hand at sappy love letters and poetry. He’s not the best, but what he writes down makes his s/o’s heart flutter. He just wants them to know how much he cares about them, even if he has a hard time expressing himself accurately. 

He’s the type of guy who picks up pastries because he remembered his s/o liked them a few weeks ago and the bakery finally made them again. He’ll polish their shoes if they haven’t had the energy to do it themselves. He’ll remind them to eat. His idea of making them happy is making sure that they are well taken care of.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

He’s their biggest fan and simultaneously their biggest critic. Jean supports their endeavors, but he will not mask his opinions just to make them feel better. He’s tough on them because he wants to see them succeed. He’ll help them if he can, but he won’t hold them back from their potential by lying to them. 

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Jean loves trying out new things with his s/o, especially once the world opens up to them. He wants to explore everything, while still having some sense of routine in their lives. No dates that could potentially harm him or his s/o. He’s spending time with them, not trying to fight for survival, after all. Dates can be adventures-- he won’t mind going on hikes or exploring nearby terrain, however, he’d much rather try new foods and experience new technology instead. 

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Jean likes to think he knows his partner inside and out, but he’s conflicted about the duality of everyone in his life when push comes to shove, so he finds himself wondering if he truly knows them. This is just his insecurity and hurt surfacing, but he can spiral into pondering whether his s/o care about him as much as he cares for them. He knows he gives them opportunities to tell them about themselves, and he’s picked up on their quirks over the time they’ve been together. In reality, Jean genuinely does know more about them than he thinks he does. It’s hard not to feel comfortable around him, after all. 

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

His relationship is extremely important to him as he’s always had issues with letting people in on his vulnerable side. He has insecurity issues stemming from a variety of sources and knowing how people could use him puts him off from working on most relationships. Finding his s/o and being slapped in the face by the reality that someone genuinely loves him and wants to learn with him is eye opening. Due to this, Jean tries extremely hard to work on himself and the relationship as best he can. There’s no way he’d half ass something so good.

Though Jean’s relationship is on the. top of his priorities, his mission is still going to overshadow his desire to be with his s/o. It’s not that the mission is more important-- it’s that he needs to complete the mission so that his beloved can finally rest. He wants to protect them, and protecting them means he has to put his life on the line, unfortunate as it is.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Jean’s a mother hen to his s/o. He’s always nagging them to eat, sleep, shower and make sure they’re taking care of themselves. He’s always been in tune with the health of other people, and he just naturally wants to make sure that his s/o is in optimal condition. He will literally snap and physically force them to sleep if he needs to. He gets irritated if they’re neglecting themselves due to the fear of them getting hurt or sick.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Yes!! All he wants to do is cuddle. He loves holding his s/o, but he loves being held more. When they run their fingers through his hair and mention a silly hairstyle he could try, he almost considers it. He falls asleep on their chest almost every night. 

If he’s upset, a simple kiss to the cheek or head is enough to bring a small smile back on his face.

His favorite place to be kissed would be his temples. There’s something soothing and homely about soft lips brushing past his hair to linger right above his brow. It’s also a surefire way of inducing drowsiness in him.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Jean just bites the feeling back and swears that he will see his s/o as soon as he can. The idea that they will be waiting for him is enough for him to power on. Occasionally, Jean may doodle them in the margin of a report or in his personal journal. He thinks about what their next date could be and wonders if they ever found that stray cat they mentioned a few conversations ago. He thinks about them and all the things they can do once they’re together, and it’s enough to motivate him.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

He’s literally tryna save the world for them lol

~~~

Based off @snk-warriors​ fluff alphabet prompt