#i would NOT be surprised if they met up for lunch every so often so kakashi could get updates on at least ONE of his student's educations

[liliththeimp]

Farmhand! Simon HC’s (fem!reader, SFW)

Farmhand. Farmhand but in a way that will water down the harsh southern living into sweet tea and fireflies and cattle all because I'm a silly delulu squirrel who wants my life to be easy right now.

I'm into escapism and fake scenarios can't you tell?

Anywho, my main point about this is I can't stop thinking about farmhand! Simon and its curing my depression a little bit so heres some head cannons lol

(Ain’t proof read, per usual :P)

—————

Farmhand! Simon, who you met after returning home from a trip with your friends, the new masked face a surprise addition to your grandfather’s ranch, considering your grandfather ain’t one who asked for help often. Let alone someone from England.

Farmhand! Simon, who decided to move to the states for a job opportunity, and innocently assuming he’d take care of a lonesome old couple and that was that. Little did h know he’d find your cute little puppy ass fluttering around him curiously every time he turned around.

Farmhand! Simon, who is very distant and quiet, no matter what advances you made to try and slink around to bother him, he would always shy away with a grunt and wrangled horses into their stalls, and your guess was he wasn’t very friendly.

Farmhand! Simon, who is embarrassed by your sudden appearances and advances into helping. He’s grateful for his hat and the bandana tied around his face to hide his embarrassment around you- otherwise you’d find out underneath all that he loved checking you out in that short red gingham dress, the way it rode up your thighs when you bent over the fences to hand him water or reach for his hat to spite a reaction from him.

Farmhand! Simon, who will wake up at the crack of dawn to make back tea and gets the feeding out of the way, so if you woke up early enough, you were able to spot him hard at work before the sun glinted across him.

Farmhand! Simon, who helped carry laundry baskets for you outside before rudely dropping them to go collect some bails of hay for the horses, it only because he got so embarrassed by the way you’d look up to him as you talked, fluttering your lashes like you two were friends.

Farmhand! Simon, who finds you asleep in an empty hay-blanketed horse stall next to Gideon, the newborn horse calf. It melted his heart a bit, seeing the glow on the sunset glisten across your skin, kissing your hair and making you glow even more than you should. To see you curled up against the calf so sweetly.

Farmhand! Simon, who begrudgingly picked you up from your napping post and up into his arms effortlessly, carrying you across the field for a few minutes to admire your sleepy features, the way you twitched your nose, the way you curled up against his chest, curling the fabric of his flannel in your fingers as if you weren’t close enough.

Farmhand! Simon, who put you up to your bed, brushing a stray curl from your temple to hesitantly peck your forehead, bushing his finger across your lips for good measure.

Farmhand! Simon, who will eventually start to come closer to you, and begins to allow your help around the ranch.

Farmhand! Simon, who will work from 5am-12pm for a break and walks in on your making him some lunch (embarrassingly refuses to eat in front of you, instead goes out into the barn to eat with the animals.)

Farmhand! Simon, who nearly looses his mind at how you cook for him, sweet or savory, he thinks it’s divine.

Farmhand! Simon, who got so love sick at your appreciation, went to an auction and got you a new calf, which you name Duck.

Farmhand! Simon, who starts thinking this is your illegitimate child together, (will also get a bit jealous at your attention for the calf instead of him, he wouldn’t allow himself to really feel to though, cause why would he want that nasty fluffy crap?)

Farmhand! Simon, who will bring you out late at night to capture deep in the woods, the virescent glow of fireflies that dances around you lit up your eyes with a beaming smile like some puppy chasing them through the trees, while he watches for afar, finding that this was the moment he fell in love with you.

Farmhand! Simon, who has gotten so comfortable, on his breaks he’ll let you make him picnics and eats with his bandana off, but inched away -only cause he’s shy of you starring at him like he stares at you- or the potential denial of his scarred features who scare you away,

Farmhand! Simon, who will give you a giant bear hug before you or he goes anywhere, just to make sure ;)…especially if youre out in town, he’ll be sure to keep any small town weirdos from getting to close to you.

Farmhand! Simon, who will eventually become so lax around you, he enjoys the time you take to be around him, laying your head on his stomach as you read, the low buzz of the radio drifting around you with the sound of crickets starting to chime together at the sunset. While Simon’s hand had a beer in it, the free one hesitantly inches towards the ends of your hair, twirling the strand around experimentally, hoping you didnt feel it while he memorized the softness and texture, hoping one of these days he can fully run his and through your hair.

Farmhand! Simon, who eventually kisses you the night before you leave for college, wanting you to understand he would wait for you, if you’d wait for him too.

[mokutone]

I am so entranced by ur style it's crayzay . . . I adore how you draw Sakura and Kakashi they're so silly goofy

thank youuu!!!!!! :^D i love drawing them, especially interacting together, i think there's SUCH a wealth of possibility that kishimoto failed to exploit in his storytelling that could lead to detailing parallels between the two of them—and woudln't it be a bit fitting if she ends up being, in many ways, the one most like kakashi? the one left behind?

[swiftlyinlove]

Santa Doesn't Know You Like I Do

pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

summary: You and Spencer are best friends, but there's always been a little spark between you. When he cancels your plans for Christmas, you're determined to prove that you know him better than anyone else.

warnings: idiots in love, christmas fluff, a little angst if you squint??

word count: approximately 4.5k

a/n: Hi! It's been a long time since I wrote much of anything, but writing this for Christmas has been an absolute joy. I love Spencer so much, and this poor boy just suffers... I wanted to give him a happy ending for Christmas - or a happy beginning. I hope you like it.

The first thing you realized after the beep signaled the end of the phone call was how weird Spencer was acting lately.

To be fair, you two had an unconventional friendship. Due to the nature of his job, Spencer was often busy and therefore you couldn’t communicate as much as you'd like to, but you'd set up a base rule to make sure you never lost touch with one another: mandatory Friday night video call.

Every Friday, without fail, you would Facetime. Spencer wasn’t fond of technology, you were aware, but he’d gladly face his prejudice and lack of knowledge of anything digital if it meant talking to you. It didn't matter if he was home or if he was in another state for a case; come nine pm on a Friday, you two would be catching up about your lives.

That, of course, meant that you'd grasp at every opportunity you could to be with each other. He was in town for a case? You would meet up and have dinner if he had time; if he was doing something important and couldn’t finish it in time for dinner, he would drop by your place at the craziest hour in the morning and lie down next to you, gently shaking you awake to reveal he had gotten take out from your favorite restaurant.

Despite being awakened from your slumber, you would greet him with the brightest smile he’s ever seen - well, after letting out a little shriek of surprise, to which Spencer would respond with an “It’s me, little menace” and a chuckle that would make your heart flutter every time. 

The nickname had originated from your childhood. Spencer didn’t have many friends in middle school, and the fact that he was much smarter than kids his age didn’t help. His classmates either made fun of him or avoided him altogether, but you were… different. 

When you first moved into town, you were very nervous for your first day of school. Making friends was never easy for you, as your peers would deem you rather weird for always having your nose stuck in books. However, you quickly realized you had nothing to worry about - it took one look at little Spencer Reid, reading Crime and Punishment at the lunch table, for you to know you had found your place.

You sat next to him, ignoring the snickers from the so-called “popular kids”. He hesitantly lifted his gaze from the wrinkled pages - you reckoned he had probably read that book many times before -, expecting to see someone with a mean scowl ready to taunt him.

Instead, his wide eyes were met with your bright smile, your rosy cheeks, and your adorable ponytails, and he frowned in confusion. “Hello…?”

“Hi. I’m Y/N.” You greeted him excitedly. There was something about him that made you feel confident, so you continued. “I’m new here and I noticed you were sitting alone. And that seems like a really cool book if you don’t mind me saying, and I just thought you-”

You cut yourself off, realizing you were rambling. You could feel your cheeks warming up, and you were sure you looked as flustered as you were feeling. Before you could even dwell on how embarrassed you felt, Spencer’s lips broke into a smile. 

And that was it. From that moment on, you had been inseparable. Well, perhaps not physically; after all, he was academically way ahead of you and everyone else, and he even managed to graduate from high school at only twelve years old. 

That didn’t stop you from hanging out every moment you could, nor from exchanging letters every single day when he went to college. To this day, you still had those letters, safely tucked into a charming wooden box you kept on your bookshelf, but you’d never tell him that (although you were sure he knew, as the great profiler he was).

So, despite being separated due to your busy jobs - his more than yours - and living in different states, it wasn’t a surprise when you started arranging to spend the holidays together.

Since his mother was still institutionalized, Spencer didn't really have anyone to celebrate the holidays with and therefore didn't care much for the traditions. You, on the other hand, loved the holidays, but since your parents had passed away when you were in college, you were also alone during the season.

Thus, you cut a deal. Every year, he would use his extra vacation days to take a week off around Christmas and you would take turns visiting each other. Usually, you were both very excited about this occasion – it was one of the rare opportunities you had to be together in person, and you missed each other terribly.

This year, though... You had just called Spencer to confirm the date so you could book your flight to Quantico, and he had simply managed to say he couldn’t take time off before hanging up on you.

You were confused by this but chalked it up to it being one of those days for him. Working at the BAU, Spencer had to deal with a lot of gruesome cases often and, after a really bad one, he didn't find any energy to do much of anything.

While he'd never avoided you per se, when those days coincided with your phone calls, you would try to comfort him the best you could, and sometimes even managed to cheer him up a little. 

This time, you didn't even have the chance to, and that threw you off. Still, if Spencer was in a bad mood, maybe he just didn't feel like talking. Not even to you.

Deciding to not push it any further, it's only a few days later that you brought up your trip to Quantico, this time via text. You spent the entire day nearly jumping at your phone each time it vibrated, expecting a notification with his name on it.

It was only later that night that you'd get your answer in the form of an ‘I can't this year’. You read the text over and over again, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. Perhaps it had been wishful thinking, but you had hoped that, once he was in a better mood, he would be just as eager as you for your shared holiday season. 

It occurred to you that perhaps something happened, perhaps he couldn't file for a vacation because he had a big case that he couldn't step away from.

But if that were the case, he would've told you so. He would've explained, apologized even, and tried to schedule another date for your trip to make it up to you. So, you concluded, he just didn't want to see you.

That thought haunted you for the entire week.

Finally having enough of feeling blue and not getting any work done, you decided to go straight to the source in search of answers. Well, source adjacent - Spencer was still replying rather coldly to your texts, so you couldn’t ask him directly. Penelope Garcia was the next best thing.

You had met the members of the BAU after a particularly successful case in your city. Their flight would only leave in the morning and Spencer thought he could take the opportunity to take you to the cinema for a late-night movie, just like the good old days of your adolescence.

However, Penelope and Rossi had other plans. To properly celebrate their hard work that led to saving multiple women who had been kidnapped a few weeks prior, they decided to take the team out for dinner in a nice restaurant.

“And it’s mandatory. It’s not like we have anything else to do tonight, so no excuses.” She had warned in a playfully threatening tone. 

Spencer shifted in his spot while putting away his things in his satchel. After all the years he worked at the BAU, he still hadn’t told his coworkers - his found family, really - about you. It was the one thing he kept close to his chest, the one secret he wanted to keep forever.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he brushed his hair behind his ears, not daring to turn and face the team while he spoke. “I sort of already have plans.”

His voice was so quiet that the team wasn’t sure they had heard him correctly. After a moment of silence, Derek’s lips curled into his (in)famous smirk and he gently nudged Spencer’s side, making the lanky boy turn around to face his friends.

Spencer’s cheeks were flushed and he kept his eyes trained on the ground, not wanting to face the curious expressions on their faces. But when Derek nudged him again, asking him “Who’s the girl?” with such a teasing tone, he couldn’t help but look up.

“She’s just a friend.” He blurted out, eyes immediately widening upon the realization of what he admitted.

While the rest of the team just shrugged it off and dived into their conversations, Derek patted him on the back - the force of which sent Spencer stumbling a few feet forward -, and Penelope lit up like he had just told her that he won the lottery.

“You have to bring her!” Penelope begged, grabbing his arm as they walked towards the door of the local precinct they had been working on for the case. “I want to meet this mystery woman.”

Penelope didn’t say it to him then, but she was sure you weren’t ‘just a friend’. She might’ve not been a profiler, but the look in his eyes when he spoke about you and his hesitation to cancel your plans for the sake of the team made her think that perhaps you were much more special to him than he realized.

Her suspicions were, of course, confirmed when he showed up at the restaurant a few hours later with you in his arms, wearing an elegant black dress and a radiant smile on your face as you whispered something to him, immediately breaking into a fit of giggles.

Spencer tried to feign indignation at your comment, but he couldn’t help but smile as he led you to his friends, who were all watching the interaction with surprise and disbelief. Your laughter calmed when you reached the table, but the smile never fell from your face as Spencer introduced you, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. That’s when Penelope knew.

You clicked rather well with his friends. They were, naturally, very curious about you, and you did your best to answer all their questions. Meanwhile, Spencer, who was sitting next to you, placed a hand on your lower back, making sure you didn’t feel overwhelmed under the attentive eyes of his friends.

Penelope and you were a match made in heaven, Spencer reckoned. You quipped back and forth the entire night, even swapping numbers by the end of it, and Spencer even joked that you had found a new favorite FBI agent as you made your way to his car.

Chuckling at his statement, you stopped in your tracks, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning up to place a tender kiss on his cheek. “You’ll always be my favorite. But she’s a close second.”

Spencer was sure his heart had stopped right then and there and that he had gone to heaven.

Since that night, you frequently called Penelope to talk about numerous things - from the latest TV shows you were both hooked on to recipes for dessert -, but you rarely talked about Spencer. Until today.

“Penny, I need your help.” You blurted out as soon as the blonde answered your call. 

“Woah, woah, calm down my friend,” Penelope answered, amused and slightly worried about the urgency in your tone. “What’s on your pretty little mind?”

All it took for Penelope to know something was wrong was two words. “It’s Spencer.”

“What about boy wonder?” The technical analyst questioned, trying to make sense of what you were saying.

“He’s been acting so cold lately.” You explained, sighing in exhaustion as you plopped down on your couch. “Well, you know how we always arrange to spend the holidays together?”

Penelope hummed in agreement - every year when Spencer would put in a request to take time off during the holidays, she would make sure it was at the top of Strauss’ paperwork, knowing he was doing it for you.

At her approval, you continued. “This year I was supposed to come to Quantico, but every time I try to bring it up, he shuts me down and just says that he can’t. I don’t understand why he’s acting like this and it's been driving me nuts all week.”

The blonde’s eyebrows furrowed as she looked at your image on the phone. 

“Are we sure we’re talking about the same person? Because he seemed pretty excited last week. He wouldn’t shut up about how he found the perfect gift for you and how he couldn’t wait to see your face when you opened it.”

This confused you even more, and you frowned as you processed her words. “Yeah, well, this week he can barely text me back. I don’t want anything crazy, Penny, I just want to be with him for Christmas.”

“I don’t know what happened. As far as I can tell, he did put in the request for a vacation.” Penelope replied. Then, her face lit up in realization and she cursed under her breath. “Morgan.”

“Morgan? What does Derek have to do with this?” You asked, more disoriented than ever.

“Wait here,” Penelope said, quickly getting up from her chair and leaving you to stare at her empty office. She returns a few minutes later, looking pretty annoyed, to see you making a cup of coffee in your kitchen.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, sweet cheeks.” The blonde said apologetically, making your gaze return to your phone, forgotten on the counter as you waited for her.

You quickly picked it up, registering her distressed expression. “What happened?”

“I found out why Reid’s acting like an ass to you.” She replied, her voice softening as she saw the glimmer of worry in your eyes. “It seems like Morgan has done quite a number on him.”

“What do you mean Morgan has done a number on him? What did he do?” You questioned, growing irritated by Penelope’s ability to beat around the bush. You loved her, you really did, but you just wanted to know what happened.

“I’m not sure I should be telling you this, but since you’re so upset…” Penelope trailed off, pursing her lips. “Morgan better pay me back.”

“Penelope, just spit it out.” You interrupted, your impatience reflected in your tone.

“Fine. I told you Reid wouldn’t shut up about you, and Morgan may or may not have teased him about his feelings for you and it may or may not have caused Spencer to clam up in his shell.” Penelope rushed through her words and you blinked, unsure you had heard her correctly.

You could feel your heart beating in your ears as you asked her, “Spencer… Has feelings for me?”

Penelope looked reluctant to answer your questions, clearly not wanting to violate Spencer’s privacy. Ever since she met you, she knew you and the resident FBI genius were destined for each other, but she wanted you to discover on your terms.

“Penny, please.” You sounded out of breath, and it cleared any sign of hesitation on Penelope’s mind. 

“Baby girl, I can’t be the one to tell you that. You have to ask him.” She responded, her voice full of empathy. “But between me and you, I’m pretty sure you know what the answer is.”

Spencer was certain that he was in the 9th circle of hell. 

Ever since Morgan’s comment, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He always knew what you two had was special.  You knew how to make him laugh; Spencer didn’t consider himself to be difficult to entertain, but he could be quite oblivious to his coworkers' jokes sometimes, especially if they were about him. But you? Oh, you managed to make him laugh hysterically with a simple comment, and it endeared him. 

You had been with him through the good and the bad, after all. You were there at his graduation, celebrating his first Ph.D. - and the two that came after that, too - and you were right there by his side when he watched his mother be dragged away to a mental institution, holding his hand in an attempt to comfort him.

That was what he loved most about you. He could always count on you to be there for him. He recalled the first moment he realized you were much more than a friend to him.

It had been after the Tobias Hankel case. Spencer slipped in and out of consciousness as the doctors dragged him through the hospital, murmuring to themselves about testing the drugs in his system and checking his vitals.

His life wasn’t in danger anymore, but he was oh so tired. He had spent days upon days of captivity without a wink of sleep, locked in an empty cabin where he was tortured by two of Tobias’ personalities, and all he could think about between getting tormented and getting drugged was you.

He was sure he was going to die then, and his main concern was that he wouldn’t be able to see your pretty smile again. He would tell you this when you appeared at his bedside a few hours later, claiming that you received a call from the hospital - unsurprisingly, you were each other’s emergency contacts - and had threatened a stewardess to get a ticket to the next plane to Virginia, and you would call him ridiculous for it.

It was only when you were sitting next to him on his hospital bed, his head leaning against your chest as you combed your hands through his hair, that he allowed himself to cry, to reveal how truly scared he had been under Tobias’ hands.

You whispered sweet nothings in his ear as you softly lifted his head, making sure he was looking at you when you softly kissed his tears away. His arms had tightened around you, a silent sign of his gratitude, and he knew then, he knew, you were everything to him.

How could he have not fallen for you after all that? 

But he could never tell you. He had been rejected many times in his life, but if he was to get rejected by you? He was sure his heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

So he tried to bury his feelings deep inside him, keeping you a secret from the people who knew him best and, when the time came, introduced you to them. As a friend. Because that’s all that you were. Friends.

When Morgan teased him about his feelings for you, Spencer entered panic mode. If Morgan could see Spencer was madly in love with you, then you could see it too - you could always read him like a book, after all.

And if you hadn’t brought it up… You didn’t want to. He knew you’d never want to hurt him, so the only logical conclusion he could reach was: you don’t feel the same.

He tried his best to avoid you. Cutting you off whenever you brought up your plans for the holidays, replying to your texts with short answers, and even refraining from watching Doctor Who in his free time, because it only reminded him of how you two used to lie on your couch during summer break and watch it together. 

What he didn’t count on was opening his door in mid-afternoon on Christmas Eve and seeing you standing in front of him, coat covered in the snow that was falling outside the comfort of his building and a small smile on your face.

“Merry Christmas, Spencer.” You said bashfully, not sure how he would react to your presence. 

“Merry Christmas.” He replied, his breath knocked out of his lungs at how beautiful you looked standing there. He might have fallen in love with you all over again. 

After a beat of silence, he wet his lips, looking at you with the same wide-eyed gaze he greeted you with when you were kids. “What... What are you doing here?”

Your lips curled into a sheepish smile. “What, you thought I was gonna miss Christmas?”

Seeing you in front of him, hearing your voice without the faint static of the phone for the first time in a while… it was surreal to him. He couldn’t help but cave in and wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer into a tight hug.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders just as tightly, your body finally relaxing against his. You could feel his nose nuzzled into your neck, and you smiled against his shoulder.

“I missed you.” You whispered, letting your words linger between the two of you.

“I missed you too.” He whispered back, and you knew he was sincere. “I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”

“I know.” You breathed in his scent, pressing a soft kiss against his shoulder before pulling away. He reluctantly let you go, a remorseful smile on his lips.

Spencer guided you into his apartment, and you took note of how he put up your usual Christmas decorations. “You managed to set up the tree by yourself?” You teased him.

He chuckled, watching as you settled on his couch and patted the space next to you. He promptly followed your lead, sitting down beside you. “Yeah, it was a real challenge.”

Before you could even reply, Spencer reached out to grab your hand, his thumb softly caressing your knuckles to calm his racing mind.

“Look, I’m so sorry. I’ve been stuck in my head lately, and it’s not fair that I treated you like that. We’ve had this tradition forever and I feel like I disrespected it and-” Spencer rambled, and you pressed your lips against his to shut him up.

Your sudden action stunned him, and he couldn’t help but succumb to your spell. Placing his hands on both sides of your face and closing his eyes, he kissed you back as gently and tenderly as he could, feeling you melt against him.

Once you pulled away, his eyes fluttered open, looking at you with a lovestruck, surprised gaze. He seemed to be speechless, which made you giggle.

“I hope that was on your wishlist this Christmas.” You joked, leaning your forehead against his. 

Your gaze softened as you took in his expression. “Penny told me everything. In all seriousness, I understand why you did it.  I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t just tell me.”

He gulped, feeling vulnerable under your loving stare. He always got the impression that you could see right through him.

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been in love with you almost my entire life, and when I finally realized it, I was afraid that if I acted on them, you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.” He murmured, his tone growing sadder.

“And when Morgan joked about my feelings for you, I just realized that maybe I hadn’t been as discreet as I thought and perhaps you already knew and didn’t talk about it so you wouldn’t hurt me.” He continued, closing his eyes again as if the mere thought was too painful to bear. 

He took a deep breath, his thumbs starting to slowly brush against your cheekbones. “I didn’t want to face you and find out if it was true, because… Because my heart couldn’t take it.”

You listened quietly to his words, his touch on your skin grounding you and sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach. It broke your heart to hear him speak like that, as if the mere thought of you feeling the same never crossed his mind, as if it was absurd. 

You knew he had low self-esteem, a permanent scar from all the times he was bullied throughout his life, but his self-deprecating view never ceased to shock you.

“Spencer…” You whispered his name like it was sacred, like he was something to be worshipped, and it made his heart skip a beat. “I know all your favorite songs, how you take your coffee, and your favorite books. In order. I know you. I’d be crazy not to love you.”

You could feel him exhale in relief at your quiet confession, his racing mind finding solace in your words. “Really?”

“Of course.” You replied with a chuckle, leaning forward to press a feather-light peck against his lips. “I’ve been in love with you since we were, like, sixteen. All I ever wanted was to be the one to give you everything you want.”

He smiled as you pulled away once again, thinking about how much time you two had lost while dancing around your feelings. Although, he supposed, it wasn’t lost time - you had spent those years giving each other love, even if it wasn’t necessarily romantic.

“We’re both idiots.” He replied, making you laugh once more. You stood up, grabbing both of his hands and guiding him to the kitchen. He followed you with a bright smile on his face; he would follow you anywhere, he suspected.

“I was thinking I could make those cookies you like and, afterward, we could perhaps… snuggle by the fireplace?” You suggested, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. 

He pretended to think for a moment, before he finally gave in, pressing a delicate kiss against your temple. “Anything you want, little menace.”

Spencer hummed, burying his face further into his neck. “I was thinking of reading a few books. Santa was going to keep me company.”

Later that night, when you were both snuggled up against each other in front of his fireplace while eating the gingerbread cookies you both made, you asked him curiously, “What were you planning to do for Christmas, if I hadn’t shown up?”

You laughed quietly at his admission. “Well, Santa doesn’t know you like I do.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Your genius agreed, peppering little kisses onto your skin. “You’re the best Christmas present ever, do you know that?”

“Yeah? Wait until you see what I actually bought for you.” You replied, a playful smile on your face. “Besides, a little birdie told me you got me the perfect Christmas gift.”

“I’m gonna kill Penelope.” He muttered under his breath, sending you into a fit of laughter. 

Well, maybe this Christmas time

You'll finally realize

That I could be the one

To give you everything you want

[ktgoodmorning]

"Your opinion of me won't change, right?"

Alexia Putellas x reader

Masterlist

You've been hiding your poor family relationships from your girlfriend, sending you into a downward spiral

Wasn't gonna make this two parts but apparent I'm not capable of making anything short enough to not split it up so a second part will be coming. I've got a little road trip this weekend so it'll be a minute before it's done, just wanted to get something out before I left.

Your relationship with your family had never been great. The four of you were constantly fighting and arguing, usually over things that weren’t all that serious. Your parents were the worst of it, always trying to keep you in their control. Although you had never gotten along well, your relationship worsened when you decided to make your move from the United States to Spain more permanent than you had originally planned. 

You first moved to Spain about three years ago. It had been temporary, for your job. You were only supposed to be there for a year. Over the course of that year however, you had no idea how much you would fall in love with everything that Spain offered you. Your company had settled you in Barcelona and you fell in love with the city instantly. The weather was far better than you were used to back home, every meal you had was significantly tastier than anything you could find there. You truly found no negatives to your new life you had started establishing in Barcelona. Best of all, you met your girlfriend, Alexia. 

The night you met, she ran into you at a club. You were out partying with some of the new people from work so they could show you the city. When you were at the bar waiting to order another drink, someone basically fell into your side. It had appeared one of her friends had pushed her in your direction in an attempt to force her to talk to you. The blonde woman apologized (and blushed) profusely, insisting on buying your drink for you. From there, the two of you got to talking and never really stopped. You weren’t one for random hookups and didn’t feel comfortable leaving with some stranger in a city that was brand new to you so you gave Alexia your number and told her to text you. 

To your surprise, Alexia texted you the next morning, asking if you’d want to get lunch. It was an obvious answer to you as you got ready to meet her at a local cafe she recommended. From that day on, the two of you fell fast. You had clicked instantly. Conversation always flowed easily between you and time flew by. As cliche as it was, it felt like the two of you were meant to be together. Your lunch date led to a series of other dates, often built around the idea of her showing you new spots around the city she loved so much. After about a month of seeing each other casually, Alexia finally asked you to be her girlfriend.

It was important to both of you to keep your relationship private, especially in the early phase of it all. You each valued how easy it was being just the two of you, not having to worry about the media, fans, or in your case- your family. You knew they wouldn’t be happy with you falling in love with a “random girl” in Spain. They wouldn’t be able to understand your love for her or how happy you were here. All they wanted was for you to come home. The further your relationship with Alexia developed, the more the chances of you coming home shrunk. 

After about 2 months officially dating, you each told your close family and friends about your relationship. Your parents met her over FaceTime and it went about as well as could be expected. They were (surprisingly) nice to your girlfriend during your call, being polite and going through all the formalities. However, later that night on the phone they expressed their disapproval to you. Your mom told you all about how you didn’t need a relationship distracting you from your job and how it was a waste of time anyways since you’d only be in Barcelona for about nine more months. You didn’t take much of this to heart as this was exactly what you expected from them. To you, you just smiled and nodded and spent as little time on the phone with them as possible. Alexia didn’t know the extent of the conflict within your family. Knowing she was close with her’s, you didn’t want her to judge the way your family treated each other. It wasn’t that big of a deal anyways. She knew the four of you weren’t all that close but you never let her into how bad it really was. Why did your girlfriend need to know that anyways? They were an ocean away, you just needed to get over it. It wasn’t that big of a deal, you just tended to sugar-coat it some when the two of you brought up your families. 

Alexia’s family had the exact opposite reaction upon meeting you. You knew your girlfriend’s family was extremely close, especially her and her sister. The pair of you had gone for dinner with them to officially meet and they were absolutely amazing to you. They greeted you with hugs and wanted to know all about you. Your dinner with them could not have gone better. Alexia’s mother had already made you feel like a true member of the family. They made you feel valued and important, something you often missed from your own parents. Sometimes you tended to bond closer with other people’s parents due to the lack of relationship with your own, so you appreciated how welcoming they had been to you. You were incredibly grateful not only to Alexia but to her entire family. During that dinner, you realized just how much you were falling in love with her. You loved everything about her and her life. 

About a month later, Alexia introduced you to her teammates. It was hard not to love them too. You could see clearly why they meant so much to your girlfriend and immediately started to form bonds with them as well. At this point you had both already confessed your love for each other and were becoming more and more serious. The more integrated your lives became, the harder it was to imagine going back to the US. You didn’t feel like there was much you were leaving behind there. As the months passed and your relationship continued to flourish, you decided to make your temporary work transfer into something more permanent. In less than a year, you had built more of a life for yourself in Barcelona than you ever had back home. It was impossible to imagine leaving the sunshine, your friends, the beaches, and most importantly, your girlfriend. 

You didn’t realize your relationship with your family could get any worse until you told them about your decision to stay in Spain. It was the middle of the afternoon when you called them, intentionally picking a time when Alexia wouldn’t be home. You knew it wouldn’t go over well and you didn’t need her to see the reality of your life back home. It was hard to have prepared yourself for all the yelling and crying that was directed at you through the phone. Your mom told you that you were throwing your life away for “some girl,” while your dad told you about how you clearly couldn’t care about them if you were willing to move away. The insults didn’t seem to end. No matter how much you tried to explain yourself, justify your decision, and communicate the feelings you had for everything (and everyone) in Barcelona, it just continued to worsen. 

It didn’t take long to lose your patience with your parents. Your guard was already up so you were on the defensive before you even dialed their number, putting you even further on edge. The more they refused to listen to you, the more your frustration turned to anger. Pretty soon, the three of you were fully yelling back and forth at each other. It wasn’t uncommon in your family to end up arguing and yelling. You didn’t like it but it felt like it was often the only way to get your point across. When they got in these moods, they’d refuse to listen. Sometimes your heightened emotions were the only thing that got through to them. As usual, your yelling turned to hot, angry, tears. You were so frustrated and full of rage. You didn’t even bother wiping them away, knowing more would just continue to fall. None of this was new to you, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating as you continued to hurl insults back and forth through the phone.. 

The group of you went on like this for over an hour on the phone before you had had enough and finally hung up on them. It had felt like a turning point in your relationship, and not in a good way. It felt like a point where there would be no turning back. As much as you knew you were okay with this, it still made you sad. How could you have ended up like this? Why couldn’t you just have a normal family? One that loves each other? 

You were far too distracted to notice your girlfriend come home from training while you were on the phone. When she walked in the door, she heard yelling and was immediately filled with concern. She knew you were planning on talking to your parents today about making your move permanent. You were nervous about it and had worried about it non-stop before she left for training. She didn’t quite understand the extent of your worries but supported you endlessly. The blonde had no idea how deeply this would hit. The volume of your voice both concerned and confused her as she further entered the house. 

Following your voice, she ran to your bedroom where she finally spotted you. You were sitting on the floor, leaning up against your bed. Tears were running down your face and covering the front of the sweatshirt you had stolen from her. In the time you had dated, just under a year now, Alexia had never seen you looking anything like this. You were normally extremely smiley and happy. Now you were crumpled on the ground yelling rudely into your phone. It confused her. Normally you were nice to everybody, all the time, no matter what. How could you be saying things like this all of the sudden? And to your parents? As she stood frozen in the bedroom doorway, watching you, she was also overcome with sadness. You looked so broken, so helpless. For once, Alexia had no idea what to do. She had such a wide range of emotions, seeing you like this for the first time ever. 

Alexia didn’t notice right away when you had hung up on your parents. As soon as you did so, you broke down fully sobbing. The sound of that was what had made your girlfriend snap out of her thoughts, running to you and immediately pulling you into her arms. It made you jump when she grabbed you, having no idea she had gotten home. You relaxed slightly upon seeing who it was but quickly tensed again, “Ale,” you choked through more sobs. “What are you doing here? How long have you been home?” you continued to gasp for air, more overwhelmed than ever both by your family as well as Alexia seeing how that had gone. 

The blonde continued to hold you tightly and stroke a hand down your back, trying to calm you down. “Training finished up early, I got home a few minutes ago,” she tried to explain, however you didn’t seem to be taking in her words. “You’re okay, mi amor. It’s just me, breathe.” 

You cut her off by shaking your head rapidly. Fully starting to panic, you pushed your girlfriend off of you and moved away from her slightly. The idea of Alexia seeing you like that, seeing how you and your parents treat each other, filled you with shame. Surely she would break up with you. Family was everything to her, and she just heard you yelling at yours. How could she possibly be okay with that? Somehow, you had managed to panic even worse, not even realizing it. At this point, you were fully struggling to breathe. All you could do was let out strained chokes and sobs, failing to catch your breath. “Mi amor, please let me help you,” Alexia started to plead with you as you still didn’t let her get closer to you. She was getting seriously concerned, not knowing how to calm you down. 

The more you struggled to take in air, you started to feel light headed. The rational side of you, deep down, knew Alexia was your only way out of this at this point. You had hit a point where you needed her help. If you didn’t let her help you, you’d most certainly make yourself pass out. Finally, you reached one hand towards her, nodding rapidly, inviting her to help you. Your other hand grasped at your chest, almost pleading with yourself to allow you to breathe again. As soon as you welcomed her, Alexia immediately came close to you, placing your outstretched hand on her chest. “Try to match my breaths, amor,” she spoke calmly yet much quicker than usual, filled with concern for you. “You’re gonna be okay, I’ve got you, just try to breathe with me, you can do it.” The older girl was basically begging with you, not something typical for her. Eventually, when your gasps started to be slightly more productive, she kept her one hand on yours, still pressed to the center of her chest. The other hand pulled you in close, now placing your head against her heart so you could hear it. She rubbed your back slowly, trying to not overstimulate you any further. “That’s right amor, you’re doing so good,” Alexia continued to encourage you as slowly your desperate breathing turned to silent crying. 

Eventually you spoke up as you became more aware of the situation. “I never wanted you to see that part of me,” you sobbed into your girlfriend, still entirely filled with shame over what she had just witnessed. It scared you so much. Surely this would make your girlfriend hate you. It should. You were awful to your parents. Granted they were equally awful to you, if not worse. And it had gone like this your entire life, you had no patience left for it. But it was no excuse. You didn’t deserve someone like Alexia. Someone who loved her family. And would surely hate you for how you felt about yours. 

Placing both hands on your face, your girlfriend forced you to look at her. “You never have to hide yourself from me. Never. You can talk to me, I promise.” Alexia was almost struggling to hold in her own tears at this point, her voice cracking on the last word. Seeing you like this, so broken, absolutely destroyed her. You just nodded slightly, not believing her words, as tears continued down your face. She pulled you back into her tightly, continuing to provide comfort. You tried to focus on the sound of her heart and the feeling of her hand running through your hair. The longer she held you, the more you were pulled from your thoughts of what had gotten you to this point. 

Once your breathing had become more normal, Alexia tentatively pulled back to look at you, “why don’t we go sit on the couch?” she asked softly, hoping that a new spot would further pull you out of the headspace you seemed to be so stuck in. “I’ll get you a glass of water? We can talk about it if you want or we can just throw a movie on?�� All you could do was nod, tears still pooling in your eyes. Alexia was so perfect to you. You could never deserve someone like her. Not when your life was such a mess. The blonde stood up slowly, reaching for your hands as she did so. She pulled you into another tight hug once you were both standing before leading you to the couch. Once you were settled there with your favorite blanket, Alexia went to get you some water and a small snack, knowing it was your favorite. 

You felt numb as you waited for your girlfriend to return. Your mind was somehow both racing and empty. It was clear you needed to tell Alexia about your conversation, if you could call it that, with your parents. She deserved to know the truth about your family and you knew it was the only way you’d be able to make sense of the thoughts. Talking was your only way out of your head and Alexia admired how well you were able to communicate your feelings. It also helped her to know where your head was at and how she needed to be helping you. 

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t even notice your girlfriend returning to you. She sat close to you, leaving it up to you if you wanted to snuggle into her further. After drinking some water, you were much calmer than before, effectively blocking all your feelings from your mind for the time being. 

Alexia knew you well enough to know this was not how you coped with stress. Blocking out your feelings would make you spiral even worse and both of you knew it. No matter how much you didn’t want to let her into that side of your life, you knew it was your only option. “Amor, talk to me. You know you can tell me anything,” she offered gently, trying her best not to push you into anything. Even though she hid it well, she was desperate to know what was going on, what could have caused you to lose yourself so quickly. It wasn’t like you. It made her nervous. 

Your response broke your girlfriend’s heart even further, “Your opinion of me won’t change, right?” you avoided her eyes, looking terrified of what her answer might be. She could barely even hear you, you were quieter than she’d ever heard you speak before. 

“Nothing could change my opinion of you,” she squeezed your hand tightly, trying to make her words sink in. “I love you, remember? I just want to help you” You had nodded slightly, but Alexia knew you weren’t really taking in her sentiment. “Prometo, mi amor. I am here for you. No matter what.” 

Taking a deep breath, you tried to find your voice again, but couldn’t do it. It was clear that you needed to explain everything to your girlfriend as she sat in front of you, looking at you with eyes full of hope, full of love. The words you were going to speak would surely make her realize that you did not share the same family values that she thought you did. How were you supposed to just say something when it was obviously going to change how she looked at you forever?

Part 2

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Masterlist

[draconic-desire]

A Dance With the Dragon I — The Tides Beckon

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

[Part I — You are here] [Part II] [Part III]

The last thing you expected was to have caught the eye of Fontaine’s Chief Justice. You have no choice but to be swept into the dragon’s dance.

Warnings: Yandere tendencies, possessive behavior, forced imprisonment, unrequited relationship

It all started with your realization that Fontaine has some rather intriguing laws.

For as long as you could recall, you had aspired to become a marine biologist. Though you hailed from Mondstadt, you forged your curiosity in the tide pools and lakes around the edges of the region. You scoured over any novel you could find on marine ecology and animal behavior, spending endless hours lost in the Knights of Favonius library. On your thirteenth birthday, your parents bought you a Kamera, which launched your career in wildlife photography and research. You even went on to publish a book cataloguing pictures of your nation’s aquatic life. It came to no one’s surprise, then, when you were gifted with a hydro vision.

Although you loved your life in Mondstadt, the vast waters that surrounded the Land of Hydro beckoned you like the pull of a tide. So, on your twenty-fifth birthday, you parted with your family and homeland, traversing across Teyvat and experiencing its many wonders. You relished in the culture and cuisine in Liyue and marveled at the natural architecture of Sumeru’s forests. Yet nothing would ever be as breathtaking as your first glimpse at Fontaine, at the granite peaks rising above the crystalline waters teeming with life of all forms.

You had secured employment with a group researching the sudden uptick in seal strandings across the nation, taking you across Fontaine’s many beaches. Your main base was located near Romaritime Harbor, which prompted you to spend your lunch breaks exploring the Court of Fontaine.

You made quick friends with the Melusines, some of whom were still a bit nervous being around humans; however, you found their stories of the ocean fascinating and often invited them to join you for lunches or strolls through the city.

One in particular, Carole, had become your close friend after you encountered her being pelted with rocks by a mob of Fontainians. You didn’t hesitate to use your vision to immobilize the rocks and create a barrier around Carole, quickly ushering her to safety. You couldn’t comprehend the prejudices directed towards her and the other Melusines, but after that incident, you made sure to keep an eye out for all of your little friends.

One day, on one of your walks, you ran into said Melusine. She seemed despondent that only a handful of citizens were interested in her hand painted posters, so you decided to treat her to lunch and pastries to cheer her up. That’s when you first caught wind of the Hydro Dragon.

“Well, if you’re worried about the seals, you might call upon the Hydro Sovereign himself!” Carole chirped.

You tipped your head curiously, lowering the cup in your hands onto the cafe table. “Don’t you mean herself? Although I’ve never met the Hydro Archon, I’ve heard others refer to her as ‘Lady’ Furina.”

Carole shook her hands back and forth in front of her. “Oh, no, I mean the Hydro Dragon! He is responsible for keeping watch over Fontaine, which includes all of its resources and residents. I’ve heard that with every sea creature that passes, the heavens open and the dragon sheds his tears in mourning.” She took a bite of her croissant. “I have a feeling he’d be willing to help.”

You tapped your chin in thought. “You don’t say. Well, we are in a bit of a drought, which could be contributing to the beachings… Perhaps I’ll ask this Hydro Sovereign for his favor.”

On the days you were dispatched to Fontaine’s eastern beaches, you opted to sit by the Fountain of Lucine to wish for the Hydro Dragon’s help. It had become a tradition for you to do so ever since your conversation with Carole, for you swore that every time you prayed to his name, rain would grace the shores the next day.

During those research trips, your coworkers would invite you to attend trials at the Opera Epiclese, though you politely declined each time. You had no particular interest in the Opera and were much more inclined to spending your time outside and uninvolved with the court’s theatrics. Besides, you considered yourself to be a model citizen, so the proceedings of the court were beyond your worries.

Or so you thought.

~*~

The incident that led to your arrest was the violation of the order “no domestic pets shall be named after Furina”. Apparently the otter that paddled around the Harbor each morning was undignified of the title of “Focalotter”. You had thought the name quite clever and humorous—that is, until a horde of Gardes surrounded you during your shift one afternoon.

You were detained and led into the Opera immediately, which was where you currently found yourself. You frowned at the relatively large crowd—which, much to your dismay, included most of your coworkers—dispersed throughout the hall. Had they all come just to spectate your trial? Standing alone on the isolated balcony, you felt like an insect under a magnifying glass, an insignificant pest to be probed at for entertainment.

“And how do you plead?”

The deep, commanding voice above you wrenched you from your thoughts. Turning your eyes up, your (e/c) orbs were met with a penetrating gaze.

Pinning you with his lavender and silver eyes from atop his chair at the center of the court was none other than the Chief Justice of Fontaine, the Iudex himself, the face of the law in the Court. Monsieur Neuvillette.

This wasn’t your first interaction with the man.

Shortly your move to Fontaine, you had stumbled across his path. At first, it was just sightings from afar; he would be leaving the Opera, or purchasing a drink (Wait, is he paying for water?) from your favorite cafe. Your favorite flowers also began to appear at your doorstep, each time with a brief, cryptic note, usually something along the lines of To my little pearl —Sincerely, your guardian dragon. You didn’t think anything of it; if anything, it confirmed that your prayers to the Hydro Sovereign had been heard.

Then, however, Neuvillette began to periodically show up around your research stations, claiming to be investigating a court case. Even though the Iudex’s public appearances were supposedly rare, none of your coworkers, yourself included, thought to question his authority, answering his inquiries regarding the base’s activities to the best of your abilities.

You noticed that he tended to speak to you the most, even asking personal inquiries like your favorite drinks, foods, books, and hobbies, and about your marine photography especially. It must be part of the investigation, you rationalized. He was nothing but gentlemanly and always kept conversations curt and to the point, offering you a gentle smile as he departed.

If only you knew the true extent of his desires.

~*~

Naturally, he first caught wind of you from the Melusines. As his closest advisor, Carole regularly joined him for afternoon tea, and though he was not one for idle talk, the manner in which his friend spoke of you sparked his intrigue.

“And when those meanies were throwing rocks at me, (Y/n) was the only one who intervened! If it weren’t for her, I don’t know what would have happened…” Carole rubbed her head, as if remembering the sharp pain.

Neuvillette placed a hand over his heart. “I am eternally grateful for her presence. I cannot stand the thought of any harm befalling you.” The hydro dragon looked out the window of his study to the ocean, deep in thought. “Perhaps you could introduce me. It appears I have much to thank her for.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Carole raised a finger. “She mentioned lots of seal beachings recently, so I suggested that requesting rain from a certain dragon could assist her work!”

Neuvillette nodded, a slight smile pulling at his lips. “Ah, so that is why I’ve been hearing Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon echoing throughout my mind the past few weeks. You have quite the imagination, my friend.”

Carole shrugged playfully. “Hasn’t it been raining more often lately? Seems like her prayers worked!”

That they had, as Neuvillette could attest to.

The first time he heard your soft voice calling to him, he had sent rain the following morning—not for you, but for the seals. His position barred him from forming close relationships with humans, so the notion of attending to your inquiry face-to-face was eliminated immediately.

But when you returned again and again to implore for rain, he couldn’t deny his interest. The day after Carole informed him that his little supplicant and Carole’s hero were one in the same, he knew he had to meet you. He had actually left the Opera to see you for himself; whether he would actually converse with you was still uncertain, but your voice tickled an itch that he needed to scratched.

Neuvillette was an experienced and composed man, but setting his sights on you for the first time stole his breath. This, he thought, must be what it feels like to drown.

Your smile shone brighter than a Beryl conch, and your scent floated around him, sweeter than any marcotte. The light shimmering from the hydro vision on your hip reflected back in your eyes, giving them the appearance of twin pools of blue. You were sitting on a bench by the Fountain, a Kamera in hand as you gestured excitedly towards the screen. To your right was a Melusine he knew well, Kiara, who was clearly enraptured with the technology.

Though he knew of your kindness towards the Melusines—jumping in to save Carole alone was grounds for a medal of peace—seeing it before him sent the waters around his heart roiling. The Iudex was moved by the fact that, despite being a foreigner to Fontaine’s customs, you treated them with the utmost respect, going out of your way to befriend and include them in your daily life. Many citizens of Fontaine still harbored prejudice against the Melusines, but you… You even used she/her pronouns when referring to them, implementing the very law that he set forth.

“I use this for my research on seal behavior and conservation,” you explained to Kiara. “Having pictures of each individual helps us identify them in the future. We even give them silly names sometimes. See this one here? We call him Mr. Sealie, and this otter I like to call…”

When the pink Melusine started giggling over the nickname of your otter, a plan formed in his mind.

Whether attributable to his sense of justice or his draconic instincts, he knew one thing for certain. Like a shining pearl, you must be cherished and protected—and who better to serve than the Hydro Sovereign?

~*~

Those eyes will be my downfall.

Purple and silver locked with (e/c). Despite being newly appointed to the court, Neuvillette was the embodiment of both poise and intimidation. The very air around him seemed to shimmer with power and unyielding authority. His breathtaking eyes swirled with emotions—was that desire or disinterest?—you could not even begin to decipher in your current position.

Archons, help me.

You cleared your throat, hoping you didn’t appear too nervous in front of the judge. “Although I admit to using a version of the Hydro Archon’s name when referring to that otter, I was unaware of such a law against doing so. I’m not originally from Fontaine, so some of its, uh…lesser discussed laws are new to me.”

Neuvillette gazed around the courtroom as the crowd devoured the trial before them. It was baffling how naive humans could be sometimes; of course there was no rule against applying a silly nickname to a pet.

That is, until this morning when he had signed it into law.

Seeing you frightened and alone in the defendant’s box, however, was torture. It took all of his willpower to not to engulf you in his strong arms like waves around sand. But he had to maintain the facade of immovable judicator for a bit longer in order to mold you to his tide. Retaining his mask of composure, Neuvillette continued, “You do realize that previous defendants have been jailed for far less, correct?”

Frustration and fear flared within you. “But I—”

“Desecration of Lady Furina’s name is of the highest offense. Your behavior will not be excused, neither by myself nor the Oratrice.” Neuvillette raised the paper with your verdict, barely glancing over the words before he spoke. “The verdict stands: you, (Y/n) (L/n), are guilty.”

You clenched your fists heatedly. There was no arguing with the Iudex. Clearly, the polite and considerate version of Neuvillette that you had encountered earlier was an anomaly, for the figure looming above you was the complete opposite. Cold, calculating. Distant. A whirlpool cresting a bottomless sea.

Had this been his plan all along? Had you been the subject of his investigation? But why?

“However, because you are not from Fontaine, I will offer you a choice.”

You blinked up at the Justice, a knot of unease forming in your stomach. A choice? What choice did you truly have here? You pursed your lips warily but nodded for him to continue.

Neuvillete raised a gloved finger. “The first: you will serve a life sentence in the Fortress of Meropide.”

A wave of despair seared your insides like a brand. That was your fate? To be trapped beneath the region where you had always longed to live, never to feel the salty wind on your face or hear the calls of seals and gulls again? Surely, the second option was less cruel?

“Or, alternatively: you will dedicate your life to the court. You will abide by its laws without question and with unwavering commitment. You will relinquish your freedom; you will not be permitted to leave Fontaine and will be bound to this place for eternity.”

A choked sob escaped your lips. No matter what you chose, your life’s work and passion would be extinguished. You would be forced to either become an actress in the court’s performance or resign your soul to a watery grave.

Both option chained you to the Region of Hydro forever.

But one option at least granted you a semblance of freedom—a notion that you soon learned was as transitory as a bubble in water.

The crack of a cane against wood resounded through the Opera, quickly silencing the crowd’s mutterings over your sentence. “What is your decision?”

You could have heard a pin drop as the audience waited in rapt anticipation for your answer.

“I…I choose the latter,” you declared, tilting your chin up. You maintained direct eye contact with the Iudex all the while, holding onto your last bit of pride.

You could have sworn you saw Neuvillette release a breath of relief. “Very well. I hereby adjourn the court. Gardes, please escort the defendant to my office for further instruction.”

Two Gardes led you out of the Opera and onto an Aquabus to the city. They informed you that you would now be living in the Palais Mermonia and your duties would begin immediately. When you asked about retrieving your belongings and notifying your family, the Gardes exchanged glances.

“That won’t be necessary,” one said cryptically. “Monsieur Neuvillette will page your relatives and have your possessions seized.”

You frowned, wishing to object, but the Palais doors loomed before you like the entrance to a monster’s lair. You gulped but swallowed your fears, straightening your back pridefully as you were ushered inside and into the Chief Justice’s office. The bolting of the lock from the outside set alarm bells off immediately.

Neuvillette stood from his seat as you walked in. He coughed awkwardly, red dusting across his pale complexion. “Ah, Lady (Y/n). I do apologize for such a fast-paced series of events. You must be exhausted.” He motioned towards the sofa adjacent to his workspace. “Please, sit.”

You blinked at him in surprise. What happened to the unwavering judge from the court? Why was he suddenly treating you kindly? And why in the Archons’ names was he blushing of all things? Unsure how else to react, you obeyed and settled into your seat, with Neuvillette taking his own on the sofa across from you.

Neuvillette poured you a glass of what appeared to be plain water into an exquisitely ornamented cup. You took it wordlessly, noticing his eyes flare with a silver glow when your fingers brushed his own. Gripping his own cup, he raised the chalice towards you. “To a long and dedicated future together.”

You sketched a brow curiously but raised your glass in tandem to…whatever that was supposed to mean. “To not being in prison, I guess.”

“Indeed.” A breathy chuckle followed. “Now, I’m sure you’re wondering as to what this whole business regarding your sentence is.” Neuvillette took a long sip from his chalice. He frowned slightly when you simply placed yours on the coffee table separating the two of you. “Although you may have thought you’d be completing droll office work, your duties will be a tad unorthodox.”

At this, your brows furrowed. Wasn’t that what all those employees you had passed in the Palais foyer had been doing—pushing papers? You had cringed at the dark bags under many of their eyes, at how many were asleep at their desks, imagining how similar you’ll look once your sentence was completed. But based on Neuvillette’s words, it sounded like you would be doing something very different.

Oh, Archons. I’m fucked.

You braced yourself to speak, but Neuvillette beat you to it.

“You are to be my wife.”

You blinked once, twice, waiting for the punchline of the joke.

Neuvillette merely stared at you with his hands folded across his lap, waiting for your response.

After a pregnant pause, you couldn’t help the stunned scoff that escaped your lips. “You can’t be serious.”

“Quite, I’m afraid.”

You shook your head. “With all due respect, Monsieur—”

“Please, call me Neuvillette.”

Ignoring him, you continued, “I did not agree to be your wife.”

The Chief Justice leaned back against the posh blue cushions of the sofa. “Although that may be the case, you are in no position to refuse. In fact, your sentence mandates that you follow my orders.”

You stood abruptly, sending your goblet toppling over and spilling its contents across the table. “Marriage was not a part of that sentence.” Which was ridiculous to begin with, you added to yourself. I mean, a life sentence for a pet name? It’s almost like he wanted me arrested.

Neuvillette sighed and flicked his wrist, causing the chalice to right itself and the water to refill. “Marriage is the highest form of dedication, no? Is that not what you pledged to?”

“I dedicated my life to the court,” you clarified.

“My dear, I am the court.”

You emitted a low hiss, turning to the door. “I’m leaving.”

Before you could take more than a step, Neuvillette moved towards you faster than a crack of lightning across the sea. His large frame straddled yours, pinning you against the sofa. He grabbed your dominant wrist, a foreign bubbling under your skin erecting the hairs on your arms. Your mind reached out for your hydro powers to defend yourself, only to be crushed with the realization that your vision had been confiscated at the court.

Despite your struggles, you could only watch in terror as a glowing silver-blue mark in the shape of a dragon burned across the length of your arm. The leviathan’s scaly body twisted in ringlets up your forearm and bicep, ending in a slender head with twin horns that crested your shoulder.

As soon as Neuvillette loosed his grip, you shoved him away, panting heavily. The mark had already disappeared, but you could still feel the ghost of it under your skin.“What have you done?” you whispered breathlessly.

In total contrast to your own contorted expression, Neuvillette appeared completely calm. He smoothed out his robes and adjusted his jabot. “I have lived for centuries, and I have many centuries more. I’ve merely gifted some of them to you.”

Your body began to shake, from fear, sadness, or rage you did not know. “I don’t want them.”

“You do remember that you promised to serve the court for eternity, don’t you? How do you expect to persist by my side otherwise?”

Eyes locked on the exit, you tried for a different tactic. “Take me to the Fortress of Meropide.”

Neuvillette’s expression darkened, his patience clearly thinning. “I will not.”

Your eyes shifted back to his. Although Neuvillette intimidated you beyond belief, you’d be damned if you didn’t go down without fighting for your life’s hard work. “I want to change my sentence.”

He glanced down at your arm. “It’s a bit too late for that, my dear.” Taking your hand in his, he pulled you to his chest. His form towered over you, capable of resting his chin on the top of your head. “Please, understand. I mean to keep you from harm, even if it means being your jailor.”

“You’re insane,” you hissed, futility attempting to pull away. “Let go of me!”

Neuvillette’s grip was relentless. You stilled when you felt claws ghost up your back in a silent warning. “That is one thing I will never do.”

The fight in you slowly ebbed away—for now. Your resistance was clearly moot, like a gnat trying to down a dragon. You’d have to play the long game to learn how to get under his skin—and how to rid your own of this new mark. “I will find a way out of this,” was all you could promise, refusing to meet his eyes.

A deep sigh sounded above you. Neuvillette took a step back, looking at you with such longing you thought you’d combust on the spot. With one last stroke of your cheek, he strode towards the office’s exit and unlocked the door with a flick of his wrist. Looking over his shoulder, he fixed you with a forlorn gaze. “By the time you realize your place here, there will be nothing for you to escape to. Only I will remain.” He once more turned his back to you and stepped out of the room.

You suddenly paled, realizing the implication of his words. If his declaration was true and you were to live as long as him, then your family, your career, the world as you know it would be completely gone. Your only company, your only solace, the only one who would remember your name, would be him. “Wait, no, you can’t—!”

He closed the doors.

~*~

Neuvillette was many things, but a liar was not one of them.

True to his word, you remained locked almost exclusively in the Palais Mermonia. On the rare occasions he let you outside, the Iudex served as your only company, diligently making sure you were hidden. Your vision was permanently taken, supposedly to prevent danger to yourself. It didn’t go unnoticed when he would wear it on his hip at important or potentially volatile trials. When you finally asked—or growled at him, really—why he kept it on his person, he had merely frowned and replied, “I originally thought the idea of a fake vision preposterous, I admit. I have no need for one. Yet having it feels as if you are constantly by my side.”

The draconic tattoo he had branded onto your arm not only extended your lifespan but also gave you a minuscule drop of his abilities—though only when you were in his presence (and most definitely not against him—you had tried). That allowed the two of you to transport to and breath in the depths of Fontaine whenever you begged to go out. In his mind, it was perfect—not only was the sea his realm, but no one and nothing could touch you. You were his alone to hold, to see, to have.

Those trips were torture for you. Free, but trapped; floating, but tied down to the man who was supposed to be the symbol of justice.

You, on the other hand, had tried a variety of (fruitless) tactics to convince the judge to free you. Any attempt at conversation or advance in his part was met with either vitriol or indifference on your part. You had once tried to charm him into letting his guard down, hoping you could sneak away while he was preoccupied at the court. This plan epically backfired on you when he mistook your subtle touches as permission to devour you with kisses and love bites, covering you in bruises from his sharp teeth for the next week. You wouldn’t so much as let him tap your shoulder for the next month after—the spark of silver in his eyes while he kissed you foretold of a deep, overwhelming desire that far surpassed simple kisses. You feared what might occur if the composed Chief Justice were given the opportunity to release his more primal urges.

And so, each day was passed much in the same:

1) Wake up on the floor or couch of his suite in the Palais—like hell you’d be sharing a bed with him. Oh, how he had tried in the beginning to usher you into bed, into his arms. It was childish, yes, but at least your refusal have you some semblance of autonomy.

2) Ponder on how you would greet Neuvillette that day.

3) Choose between fury or pretending he didn’t exist, typically the latter.

4) Look for a way to escape after he left for the Opera. Fail.

5) Spend most of the day scouring court cases in his office for clues to overturn your cause. Fail again.

6) Look out the window pitifully at the water beyond the Court of Fontaine (were the levels rising?). You often thought of your family back in Mondstadt; what were they told of your imprisonment, if anything? How long had you been stuck with the Chief Justice? The days blurred like ink in water.

7) Immediately exit the office towards his attached suite the moment he returned—any other room was preferable to his suffocating presence.

Today, though, he had chosen to interrupt your musings out the window before you could make your exit.

“You know, I find the beauty of the bright sunlight is best appreciated from the indoors through a window.”

Turning your head from the glass pane, your attention was brought to the figure standing in the doorway. He was wearing nothing but a simple pair of dark blue slacks and a white tunic, his robes hooked over his arm. At the start of your captivity you had mused how strange it was to see him without his normal ornamentation; now his comparatively plain appearance was a daily sight for you.

You crossed your arms and leaned against the window, relishing the heat from the coastal sun against your back. It was nothing like the dark pits he practically dragged you to now that you could breathe underwater. “Personally, I prefer to enjoy it with the company of a cool breeze by the shoreline.”

The Chief Justice loosed a deep sigh as he approached you. He extended his palm, caressing your cheek gently. “If you desire it so, I will rearrange some meetings and escort you—”

Below the waves, where he clung to you like a Lumitoile to a rock? “No need. Present company would ruin the experience. I prefer to be above water.”

Neuvillette had the audacity to wince at your retort. “So you instead choose to wallow in your self-inflicted solitude?”

You wanted to laugh at the hurt edge to his voice. Self-inflicted your ass—every moment of your life now centered on him, depended on his permission. Solitude was a disguise for any reprieve you could get from his constant attempts to court you.

The ironic part was that, if he had approached you normally, you could have seen yourself falling for him. He brought and cooked your favorite foods and beverages, showered you with gifts and books on photography, and tried his utmost to make you comfortable.

But you knew it was as nothing but glitter in a gilded cage. Neuvillette had drowned your whole world. So no, you wouldn’t act like any of this is normal.

Resisting the urge to bite his bare hand, you glared at your captor. “You could simply, oh, I don’t know, let me go.”

Neuvillette’s jaw tightened. His patience might run deeper than the Trench of Elton, but it was not everlasting. “We’ve discussed this.”

At that, you shrugged his hand off. “Can I at least speak with my family? My friends?”

A pained look flickered across Neuvillette’s face. “That isn’t possible.”

Your lip curled in response to his expression. “Don’t act like you actually care.”

Pursing his lips, he settled onto the window seat next to you. Though you were twitching with the urge to escape, he placed a large hand on your thigh, a gentle warning. “(Y/n), there’s something we must discuss.”

You narrowed your eyes, though your heart rate spiked. By now, he recognized your silence as a sign to continue.

“Do you wish to walk around the Court of Fontaine with me?”

Blinking, your throat dried. You swore you heard him wrong. “I’m sorry?”

Neuvillette squeezed your leg in what he thought was a comforting manner. His eyes—fuck, you had to admit they were wickedly beautiful, silver and sharp as a sword—never left your own. “You have been justified in your anger with me. I have restricted you for far too long. I would like to extend an olive branch, if you will—an agreement that we will both retain civility. I will grant you freedoms, but you must adhere to your sentence. Any deviation will not be tolerated.”

Your head was spinning, so you didn’t even consider the implications of his words. He was letting you out. “Can we go now?”

Neuvillette smiled softly. “Of course.” Standing, he offered you a hand. You tentatively took it, more awestruck than anything as he unlocked the doors to the outside. You’d finally get to see your family, your colleagues, the sun—!

Fontaine was unrecognizable.

The last time you seen the square of the Statue of the Seven, the roads were cobblestone. Now, strange machines roamed the paved streets, clearly serving as sentinels. None of the shops or restaurants were familiar—your favorite coffee shop, where you had so many chats with Carole, was now boasting signs for upscale fashion. A Melusine hopped by, wearing a Garde’s uniform, something that you remembered as being rare due to the increased chances of them being targeted. Your heart rate spiked in worry when the Melusine approached a group of children and their parents, only for a stunned expression to hit you when the creature was hugged by a little girl, her parents cooing in delight.

“Where…what?” you stammered. Fontaine had seemingly changed overnight—at least in your experience of time. Dread pooled in your stomach.

You attempted to pull your arm away from him, but his grip on you was steadfast. That same pained look from before marred his handsome features. “I did not lie when I said you have nothing to return to.” The Chief Justice sounded melancholic—he wished it hadn’t come to this, but he had to eliminate any prompts for you to leave.

“No, no.” Your heart dropped. “What… What year is it?”

The silence that followed was all you needed to know.

“How many years has it been, Neuvillette?” you repeated, your voice cracking with a desperate tone.

For once, Neuvillette avoided eye contact with you. He simply gestured towards a bulletin board, where the latest issue of The Steambird (at least one thing was consistent) was posted. You tore it from its pin, choking back a sob as you read the date.

Hands shaking, the issue fell to the ground. It landed in a puddle, its edges slowing soaking and blurring the ink. A steady rain had started to fall, quickly turning into a torrential downpour.

It had been over four hundred years since Neuvillette had taken you.

If it weren’t for Neuvillete’s hand on your hip, you would have crumpled to your knees. “H-how?”

Neuvillete looked to the skies solemnly. “Time passes differently for us long-lived species.” You cringed at his use of us, and how he actually sounded remorseful. “But this is our opportunity for a fresh start.”

Silent tears streamed down your face. For what could you do? Everyone and everything you knew was gone. Lost to the sea of time forever. You had nothing.

He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, placing a delicate kiss on the top of your head. “Cry not, my little pearl. No matter how many centuries pass, you will always have me.”

~*~

Neuvillette was many things.

And now, just as he dreamed since the moment he set his eyes on you, he was your everything.

And yet, you refused to drown.

As the years flowed like water through a stream, you began to learn the beat of Neuvillette’s dance. His emotions, his moods, his thoughts, all reflected themselves within the waltz of his life, and soon maneuvering around the steps became second nature to you. The balance of power laid within the count, and you were determined to be the one leading,

The dragon wanted to dance? So be it.

You’d give him the most challenging dance of his life.

[4ngel-inc]

𝐁𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐆𝐒 — 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐘 𝐒/𝐎 ୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

notes: i'm just in the mood for fluff so here ya go !! ᰔ

warnings: none, just a little suggestive in some parts.

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 has absolutely no problem giving you the attention you crave from him—he loves your surprise texts, your sweet doting, the way the last words that leave your lips every night are "i love you so much, osamu" as you fall asleep tucked under his arm. dazai actually loves the fact that you follow him around, asking him if you look pretty or if he likes your hair or outfit—he's learned your ways and you suit each other perfectly, he has a way of always knowing exactly what you need to hear. you cook for him often, hug him and kiss him always, practically drop to your knees each night he comes home from work, so eager to please him—you seem to pretty much always want your hands on him, and he's obsessed with your affectionate nature. there's not a single thing in the world that could convince him to let you go—he's that hooked on you. he never imagined he would find someone who loves him as much as you do, and the fact you always seek to have him as close as possible just makes him feel even more loved.

"mmm, get closer, 'samu."

"ha, i can't, darling—i've already got my arms wrapped around you."

"ugh, it's not enough, can you squeeze me a little tighter?"

"you're so cute, angel. how about i pull you onto my lap, that better? now you can stay and watch me while i do my work. i'll cuddle ya extra hard tonight, too, k?"

𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 doesn't really know how to accept the love you give him, or at least, that's how it is when you first start dating—as time passes, he starts to love the things you love about him, and his confidence grows for once in his life revolving around something other than his physical strength. your love language takes the form of performing sweet little acts of service for him—making him dinner, bringing him his coffee in the morning and rubbing his back when he's sore from a long day. he loves how you watch him when he gets dressed after a hot shower, your hand trailing down your body and he knows you're turned on just by watching him. but he stares at you just the same, watching as you brush your hair or apply your skincare at night—truthfully, he finds himself seeking you out throughout the house on his day off, finding you when you're cooking or watching tv and wrapping his arms around you, snuggling into you. he wishes he could find the courage to be as vulnerable as you—it's beautiful to him the way you love, the way you lean on him to make your day brighter, asking him to say "i love you" whenever you feel even a little neglected, and he finds himself even more eager to hear you say it back each time.

"hmm, what are ya thinking, sweetheart? you look pretty deep in thought."

"thinking about you, chu- you know that."

"ha- but i'm right here, princess."

"i know, 'm just thinking about kissing you again. you give the best kisses, c'mere? i want another one already."

𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀 really appreciates how affectionate you are. he's still learning to express his own feelings, so having you be so vocal about what you want from him means there's less guesswork on his part. "baby, do you like this outfit? i feel a little awkward today, ugh." his compliments are always genuine, since he doesn't know how to be anything but honest, quite frankly. "of course, you look so pretty, love. do you not feel like you are?" "mmm, idk- i love hearing it from you, though." akutagawa also loves it when you make him little bento box lunches, snuggle up next to him when he's feeling weak, and massage his bruises from a long day at work. it doesn't seem like you're with him just because you're impressed by his ability, and it's refreshing to him—he's known as one of the strongest members of the mafia, but he sometimes feels valued only for his skill. it's just one part of him, and before he met you he wondered if anyone would ever care about what else he has to offer. he's grateful you care about what's on his mind and how he feels, what his fears are, what his greatest weakness is. you're teaching him a lot about himself, and he only hopes he does the same for you. you're like a comfy, cozy home to him—a refreshing breeze after years of heavy isolation and loneliness that almost crippled him.

"anything you want for dinner tonight, babe?"

"huh? no, i'm fine with whatever, i love anything you make."

"aku, you always say that, tell me what you want!"

"really? alright, let's order in, i'd rather just spend time with my arms around you. that is what i want."

𝐅𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀 is quite solitary, he really prefers being by himself most of the time. however, when he made the decision to start dating you, he realized he'd have to open up a little, and he eventually finds that his desire to be free from the responsibility of a relationship is fading quickly. you got into a few fights during the start of your relationship, with him making a few (unintentionally) hurtful comments about you following him around everywhere. "i just want to be by myself for a moment, can i just relax for a few minutes?" yukichi is blunt and straightforward, and though you'd told him before you admire that about him, he knows it gets him in a bit of trouble sometimes, and it strains your relationship, as well. as time passes, though, he finds himself craving your touch more and more, and he's certainly grateful you stuck around during his transition period. he can't fall asleep without you next to him now, the sound of your breathing the greatest comfort to him. he knows he's a bit of a workaholic, but he comes home early at least once a week and brings you flowers and your favorite coffee, calling out to you when he enters your shared home.

"dear? i'm home."

"yay, you came home early again?!"

"ha- are you that excited, my love? i just saw you this morning."

"yes, of course! now i get to spend all night with you, i love doing that. i can't believe i get you all to myself tonight, yukichi!"

[alotofpockets]

Loved | Alessia Russo

Pairing: Alessia Russo x Williamson!Reader

Summary: During your concert you surprise your girlfriend with the song that you wrote about her.

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | Words: 2.2k

You loved being on tour, playing your music for your fans, and traveling the world at the same time. However, there was also a downside to this part of your career. You had to miss your favorite people for long periods of time. Of course, there were many facetime calls with them, but it wasn’t the same as having them beside you. There were only a few shows left on your European tour before you’d fly back home to London, where you’d perform your final show at The O2. 

While on tour, you used every moment that you weren’t performing or out exploring the cities you were in on writing new songs. Being away from your loved ones sucked, but it also helped you in your songwriting. Your thoughts often on the memories you created with them. Right now you are strumming rhythms on your acoustic guitars, as your mind wanders to the first time that you met your girlfriend.

It was a little over three years ago. You arrived at your shared home with your sister around 2am, after being on tour. Leah had insisted on picking you up from the airport, but you declined time and time again, since you knew she would have training in the morning. After leaving your bags in the living room, you quietly made your way over to your bedroom. Upon entering you noticed that your sister was sound asleep in your bed. You didn’t think much of it, maybe she just missed you. So, you head over to her room but when you opened the door slightly, you noticed that her bed was occupied. It was too dark to see who it was, but you softly closed the door to Leah’s bedroom and made your way back to your own. After finding some clothes to sleep in, you slipped into your bed beside your sister. The moment that your head hit the pillow, you were gone, the tiredness of touring catching up to you.

Your night wasn’t long, as Leah’s 6am alarms woke you abruptly, “Leah, please shut that off.” Leah jumped at the sound of your voice. “Don't ever scare me like that again.” She said with a warning look. You simply shrug, “You’re the one in my bed.” Leah quickly turned off the loud ringing of her alarm and fell back on the bed hugging you tight. “I can’t believe you’re back, I’ve missed you so much.” You smile into her shoulder, “I’ve missed you too, Leah.” Your sister is about to get up when you pull her back down, “Are you not going to tell me who the girl sleeping in your bed is?” Leah rolls her eyes jokingly, “Of course I was, I just figured you wanted to sleep some more first. Her name is Alessia Russo, she-” You interrupt her, “Just joined Arsenal.” You were an avid football fan, and just like Leah, your favorite team had been Arsenal from a young age, so even when you were away you kept taps on your team. Leah nods, “Yeah, I told her she could stay here until she finds a place of her own, which worked out great because the house was feeling rather empty without you here.” You act hurt, “You just replaced me?” Both of you laugh, basking in the feeling of being together again. “How about after practice the three of us get lunch together, so I can introduce the two of you properly?” You nod with a smile, “That sounds nice.” Leah changes into her training gear before heading downstairs, you hear her and Alessia talking faintly but soon fall back asleep, not even hearing them leave. 

From the first moment you met Alessia in person, the two of you connected instantly, as Leah had expected. During the lunch you had gotten to know Alessia a bit, as well as told them all about your tour. Alessia moved out about a week later, finding a nice apartment a few blocks over. Leah had been with Arsenal for years, and her teammates were as much her friends, as they were yours. So, like always, you met up with the girls often, getting closer and closer with Alessia as the months went by, until eventually she had asked you on a date. 

The first few months of dating Alessia were on your mind as you worked on the song. You both had to learn to speak each other’s love languages, as they were different from each other. Even while figuring out how to best show your love to the other, you felt nothing but love in whatever way Alessia showed it. You start testing out some lyrics, writing down the ones you like. When you had the general idea of the song figured out, the lyrics came easy, as did your love for Alessia. 

Before your flight back to London, you finished up the rough version of the song, and could not wait to sing it for Alessia. From the airport, you went straight to Colney, knowing the team’s training session was in progress. You stand to the side of the field as you watch the girls play, having gone unnoticed so far. When the whistle is blown to signal that their drill is done, Alessia is the first to notice you. She comes running your way and jumps into your arms. “You’re back!” You hold her tight and spin her around. “Hi, Lessi baby, I’ve missed you.” After putting her back down you share a short kiss before Leah joins in on the hug. Alessia stepped aside, but not going far, to give you a moment with your sister. One by one all the girls came to greet you, before heading back to training. Alessia kissed you once more before returning to training too, a “I’m so happy that you’re back.” Shouted your way from the striker that was running back to the field.

Once training was over, you headed back home. You still lived in the same apartment as three years ago, the only difference was that Alessia had moved back in, now sharing your room. Leah and Lia offer to pick up something for lunch, while you and Alessia have a moment together. You take her up to your shared room, and ask for some much needed cuddles. 

When you hear the front door open, you head downstairs to have lunch all together, and spend a couple of hours catching up. You check your phone to see the time, “Oh, I have to go in a bit for sound check. Leah, how many of you were coming tonight?” Leah starts counting on her fingers, “Let’s see, so it will be us three, as well as Beth, Kim, Laura, and Jen. So, that’s seven, for sure and a few of the girls weren’t sure yet. Can you put us down for twelve to be sure?” You smile, feeling grateful for how many of your friends were going to be able to make it. “Of course, I’ll see you guys there.” You hug Leah and Lia, before you kiss Alessia bye. 

Performing in your home country was always very special, it was also your favorite place to sing your song ‘Home’. “Thank you all for an incredible night so far.” You say looking out into the crowd. “As many of you know, London is very special to me. London is home.” The crowd erupts in cheer as they know what is coming next. “It’s an extra special evening, as there are a lot of people here tonight, that make London a home.” You look over to the friends and family section where your friends are gathered. “You know who you are.” The smile on your face grows when you see the girls cheering back at you.

You start strumming your guitar, “This is ‘Home’, hope you enjoy it.” The rest of the band joins in. 

‘Cause they say home is where your heart is set in stone

It’s where you go when you’re alone

It’s where you go to rest your bones

It’s not just where you lay your head

It’s not just where you make your bed

As long as we’re together, does it matter where we go?

You step away from the microphone, letting the crowd sing the rest of the chorus for you.

Home

Home

Home

Home

You continue the rest of your show with a few more songs from your setlist, as well as more interaction with the crowd, soaking in the last concert you’ll be giving for a while. The evening was coming to an end, having played the last song on your setlist but you weren’t done yet. “Everyone, can we get a big round of applause for Jimmy on the drums, Sarah on guitar, Brian on keys, and last but not least, Mandy on base?” You bow to them, as the crowd claps and cheers for them. The band makes their way off-stage, and you pick up your acoustic guitar for one last time this evening.

“I have one last song for you.” The enthusiasm from the crowd was immaculate, and you hadn’t even told them the surprise yet. “So, I have written a song over the past couple of days, and I would love to play a little bit from it for you tonight.” After the crowd calmed down again, you continued. “I have literally just finished this, it has not yet been recorded, and no one has heard it yet. With that being said..” You let your eyes drift back to the friends and family box, “Alessia, baby, this one's for you. This is ‘Loved’ for the first time ever.” You play the first few chords of the songs, while you watch your friends tease Alessia for her jaw dropping at the news. Alessia’s eyes stay focussed on you, as she watches you with a big smile on her face, seeing you become one with your music. Your eyes closed as you were strumming your guitar. Before you start singing, you open your eyes and lock them with Alessia’s.

I don’t need a hundred roses waiting by the front door

I don’t need a fancy house in the hills

You could rope the moon and bring me all the stars in heaven

It won’t change how I feel

Even though the arena was filled with thousands of people, the crowd disappeared around you, as you were singing to just Alessia. A moment you would never forget.

You don’t have to be a modern-day Shakespeare

You don’t have to be anything you’re not

You don’t have to give me diamonds to impress me

Just give me your heart

Make me feel loved, make me feel beautiful

Make me feel dance around the room Cinderella kind of magical

Make me believe that I’m all that you’ll ever need

Hold me close and make me feel a million kinds of wonderful

Baby, your touch, it’s more than enough

Make me feel loved

You were pulled out of your moment with Alessia as the crowd went wild once you finished the song. After taking a bow, you speak your final words to the crowd. “Thank you all so much for making tonight the best ending to an amazing tour. Thank you for coming out!” With that you run off the stage. 

Only a few moments after handing your guitar over to the crew, and another crew member taking your in-ear monitors from you, Alessia came running up to you, and jumped into your arms for the second time today. When you place her down on the ground again, you see tears in her eyes. “I love you so much, that song was amazing, and you are amazing. That was a beautiful performance, and I cannot believe that you wrote a song about me and then performed it in front of twenty thousand people.” You hugged your girlfriend tight. “I love you too. You inspire me everyday, darling. So, I wanted to do something special.” You share a sweet kiss with her, before taking her hand and walking down to your dressing room, where the rest of your friends were waiting.

You were so happy to be surrounded by your favorite people again, soaking in their laughter, smiles and hugs. Some girls wanted to go out for drinks, but you told them you had to rain check, since you were so tired. Alessia picked up on your words and offered to take you home, an offer you gladly accepted. She walked you to her white Mercedes, loving the opportunity to drive you around once again. Her hand was resting on your thigh, as the two of you listened to the radio. 

Back home all you want to do is take a shower and fall asleep in Alessia’s arms. Alessia being the amazing girlfriend that she was, knew exactly what you needed. “Why don’t you head up, baby, I’ll join you in a bit.” She pecks your lips before heading into the kitchen. When you’re done with your shower, clad in sweats and Alessia’s hoodie, you enter your bedroom, where Alessia was sitting in some comfy clothes surrounded by your favorite snacks. “I know you want to sleep, but your body needs some food after all the energy you put into that show.” You smile appreciatively, “You’re the best.” 

After enjoying the food that Alessia prepared, you cuddle into her side. Quickly falling asleep in the arms of your favorite person.  

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[schemmentis]

Revelation

Anon asked: Prompt: With Jacob living with Melissa, he sees how gay she is around reader and tries to open her eyes for it.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.3k

Pt. 2

“So…” Jacob drawls as he brings the last of the dirty dishes in from the living room. “When are we gonna talk about it? Because I kinda can't pretend I'm not seeing what I'm seeing at this point.”

“What are ya talkin’ ‘bout?” Melissa questions. A stern look at him for his not forthright way of speaking. “Talk about what, kid?”

“Y'know…Y/N.”

“What about Y/N?” Melissa rephrases her original question as she takes a step away from her sink. A hand on her hip as she outright glares at Jacob now. Irritated at his still beating around the actual topic, and now that he's bringing you into it too.

You were the newest member of their little Abbott crew. Still, you had been around long enough that they all knew you fairly well. Melissa, arguably, the most of all of them. Though she wasn't necessarily the warmest person; she certainly was more so than when you had first met her.

You were now a regular on the couch for morning news, at Mel and Barb's table for lunch, and the game nights the red head sometimes hosted. The crew, especially Janine, had wanted it to be held more often. Melissa maintained once a month was more than enough to invite them all into her space after school hours.

She stands even more firm on that stance now that Jacob is staying with her. She's grown more fond of him in their short time so far as roommates. He'd surprised her on more than one occasion for some of the things they had in common. The sharing of Real HouseWives goes a long way just by itself. Still, she wasn't about to invite anyone in any further.

Except, when she wasn't paying attention she already had. You had taken the spot right behind Barbara of being her favorite. Some days, you surpassed her work wife too.

She raises an eyebrow when Jacob still stands across from her in the kitchen. Game night had just ended and he was kindly helping clean up afterward. Then he had to ruin Melissa's mood by implying something about you. She still didn't understand what the younger man was trying to get at as he stumbled over the start of his next sentence beneath her glare. She knew, though, if it was anything bad about you she was prepared to make it however long they stayed sharing a living space hell for him. Even if she did like him.

“Would you just spit it out?”

“How much you like Y/N, is what I was trying to say. I didn't realize how close you two were until now.”

Melissa scoffs. This is what he had gotten her worked up over? She tugs the dish towel slung over her shoulder off to toss it onto Jacob's. “You dry.” She mutters, turning back to her sink to begin washing the used dishes.

“Of course I like Y/N. I don't see what the big deal is.” Melissa says after a moment of washing in silence.

“I knew you always picked her to team up with on game nights, obviously.” Jacob says as he dries the plate she's handed him. “And how you guys are at school and all. I just never noticed the other stuff until staying here.”

“What other stuff, Hill?”

Jacob's brow furrows, realizing Melissa really doesn't see it. “You talk to her every night on the phone.” He says, gently setting the plate into the dish rack before taking the bowl she's holding out to him. “Even though it's only been a few hours since you saw her last.”

“So?”

“I mean, do you do that with Barbara?”

“No, why would I? I'll talk to her in the mornin’ or Monday, whatever. Whenever we're at school next. Unless somethin’ bad's happened.”

“Right…” Jacob trails off, trying to navigate the conversation carefully. Part of him worries he's reading too much into things. The other part is worried he's already irritated the redhead just by starting this conversation and if he is right it's clearly going to be a revelation for Melissa.

He clears his throat, trying another approach. “Do you and, uh, Barbara do anything on the weekends?”

Melissa gives him a side eyed look. A little bit like he's dumb for asking. At least, he's sort of used to that one from her. “No. She's got church and Gerald.” She says like that's obvious and he should know that.

Which, he does know. He shifts the piece of silverware he's drying to the dish rack. “Last weekend you went to the movies with Y/N.”

“Yeah, she wanted to see Barbie. Again. She insisted it's different at the theater.”

“The weekend before that you went to the farmer's market together.”

“I'm not gonna pass up fresh produce, especially the peppers. I can use those in plenty of dishes and you get twice as much than at the supermarket. Besides, Y/N is always looking for fresh, local honey. New vendors, too. If somebody new is at one of the local markets then she's gotta go check it out.”

Silently, Jacob is begging Melissa to get his point but he can see she really isn't.

“You don't think it's…different with Y/N?”

“It's different with all youse.” Melissa answers as she shoves the last cleaned plate into Jacob's hands, frustrated at his prodding. “I ain't with you like I am with Barb and I'm not with Barb like I am with Y/N. What's it matter?”

“It doesn't.” Jacob answers quickly. At least, it doesn't in the way he can tell his questions are beginning to stress Melissa out. He certainly isn't judging, or trying to.

He thought Melissa at least had an idea of the different way her relationship with Y/N was when he first brought it up. He thought he had just caught onto something that was being kept private. Now, though, it's clear to him that Melissa hasn't even considered that relationship to this level.

“I just noticed you guys…spend a lot of time together is all. I thought…” Jacob stops himself from finishing his thought. He doesn't know how Melissa will take it now.

“You thought what?” Melissa presses, wiping down the kitchen counter. She doesn't turn to him but Jacob can hear the glare in her tone.

“I thought you guys were…seeing where things were going.” Jacob hedges.

“What's that even ‘spose to mean?”

“I thought you were dating and just not ready to tell everyone yet.” Jacob finally says plainly.

“Dating?” Melissa echoes, turning back to face Jacob now. In half a second, she gauges his seriousness. He means it. “You thought me and Y/N were, are, dating?”

Jacob shrugs helplessly. “Yeah. You two are just kind of…always together.”

“Well. We’re not.” Melissa says sternly.

Jacob nods. “I get that now. I won't just…assume next time?” He hesitantly promises, mustering a smile he hopes will disarm Melissa's demeanor. “For what it's worth, you guys would be good together, though.” He adds, making his way out of the kitchen to put away monopoly still left out on the coffee table.

Melissa stares after Jacob. He's disappeared from sight but her eyes remain on the space he had stood in before. A knee-jerk part of her says it's ridiculous he even thought the two of you were dating. A larger part acknowledges how he could have thought it.

She takes a deep breath, turning back to the sink. She lets the dirty dish water from the sink. She wipes the faucet and edges before wiping down the metal of the sink once the water’s drained. She drapes the dishrag over the metal divider between the two basins.

Her hands brace against the edge of the sink. A dim metal thunk when her palms hit it with small force. “Shit.” She’s falling for you.

[unclewaynemunson]

Thanks to a conversation I had with @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe and @stevesbipanic about this post by @piratefishmama about Scott Clarke helping middle schoolers with sexuality crises I wrote a lil something :)

Scott Clarke has been worrying about Eddie Munson ever since the boy first set foot into his classroom. He was tiny for his age and thin on the verge of being scrawny, with big, scared eyes in a pale face. With his long, dark curls he was the kind of boy who would unavoidably be called names for being too much like a girl, and Scott wasn't surprised that it only took one week before the boy came in with his hair all buzzed off, pulling even more attention to his expressive eyes instead.

Scott was known for worrying about the nerdy kids, and even though it wouldn't be obvious to everyone right away, he immediately noticed that Eddie was one of those. He wasn't the kind of nerdy kid who would sit in the front of the classroom, hanging onto Scott's every word while avidly scribbling down the secrets of the universe that Scott liked to share. No, Eddie was the other kind of nerdy kid: the kind who would often be called dreamy, or imaginative, or quiet, or lazy. The kind who would retreat to the back of the class and get low scores on their tests because they were spending their time sneakily reading comic books underneath the table or staring out of the window with their mind completely elsewhere for hours on end.

Middle school wasn't an easy place for kids like Eddie, as Scott knew all too well. The only thing he could do, as a teacher, was try to make it a little bit more bearable for him. He was glad when the boy took him up on his offer to spend his lunch breaks in the science classroom instead of the cafeteria or the playground. Soon, it became a habit that Eddie would be on the other side of Scott's desk reading his way through some big book while Scott was grading papers or preparing his next lesson.

Scott knew that with patience and kindness, all kids like Eddie would eventually come out of their shell and start trusting him. So he asked about the books Eddie brought first, proceeded to topics like music and games he liked to play later, and eventually could ask him about his home life.

Whenever he'd talk about his books or his music, Eddie's eyes lit up and his smile widened. Scott soon found out that, when Eddie was at ease, he could talk a mile a minute and bounce around the classroom, caught up in his stories with all kinds of excited hand gestures. At those moments, he was nothing like the quiet boy with the haunted look in his eyes who Scott met two months ago.

But Eddie never disclosed much about his personal life. He didn't mention his mother even once and he didn't tell Scott much more than that he was living with his uncle in Forest Hills because his dad was “unavailable” to take care of him.

Scott doubted whether Eddie was much better off living with his uncle than with his father. Judging from the meager lunches he brought with him, the shabby and ill-fitting clothes he wore, and the fact that the man never once came to drop Eddie off or pick him up at school, Scott was skeptical, to say the least.

He started worrying even more when one day, Eddie lingered in the classroom after the last lesson of the day, saying he wanted to ask him a “science question” with a certain dread in his eyes that Scott had never seen there before.

“There's nothing I love more than a good science question,” Scott quickly reassured him. “Tell me, what is it?”

“The other kids,” said Eddie, “Brendon and Mark and, you know... They call me names.” His voice was soft and his eyes were aimed towards the ground as he spoke. “Queer. And fag. And...” He shrugged. “Y'know.” He raised his head up again, big scared eyes meeting Scott's.

“I – I think they're right,” he said, almost in a whisper. “How can you stop being gay?”

And oh, this was a conversation Scott had experience with. He had been a teacher at Hawkins Middle School for almost two decades and there had always been kids he worried about, who would open up to him about this exact topic.

So he sat Eddie down at his desk and patiently talked him through everything the boy needed to know; God knows his trailer park uncle most certainly wouldn't. He told him all about science and nature and feelings and, most importantly, being perfect the way you are, no matter who you love.

More than two hours later, Eddie finally left the classroom with relief in his eyes instead of dread. But Scott kept worrying: Eddie's uncle hadn't so much as called the school to inform where Eddie was. Who was looking out for him after the last school bell rang and the kid rode his bike out of Scott's sight?

Not long after that conversation, Scott finally got to meet Mr. Munson for the first time. He was one of Scott's last appointments of the yearly parent-teacher evening, and Scott half expected him not to show up. But he was right on time, even though he looked almost comically out of place when he walked into the science classroom.

He was exactly what Scott would've imagined of a man living in Forest Hills: washed-up jeans and a worn-down flannel, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, and a gruff frown hidden underneath a faded gray trucker's hat. He walked up to where Scott was seated behind his desk in a few big strides, and Scott couldn't help but think that there was something almost intimidating in merely the way he carried himself. Not exactly the kind of man who radiated safety for a boy like Eddie.

They shook hands and Scott felt rough callouses press against his own chalk-stained fingers.

While Scott talked Mr. Munson through Eddie's grade list – a list that at this point was barely enough to get him into the next grade – Mr. Munson didn't say anything. Only when Scott asked him if he had any questions, he opened his mouth.

“How're the other kids treatin' him?” the man asked him in a thick southern accent.

“It's not easy for him,” Scott answered in all honesty. He wondered how much Eddie told his uncle about what his days at school usually looked like.

Mr. Munson bowed his head. “I know,” he mumbled.

“Eddie is a sensitive kid, he –”

“I know what kinda kid he is,” Mr. Munson interrupted him immediately. It sounded sharp and Scott wondered if he should be worried about Mr. Munson having a temper.

“Of course,” he cautiously retreated. “I just assumed, since I've never seen you at the school before, sir, that you might not be aware of what exactly he has to deal with in here.”

“Maybe you should do less assuming, then,” Mr. Munson answered bluntly. “You think I should be at the school more? Drop Eddie here in the mornin', come pick him up in the afternoon, all that?”

Scott wondered if Mr. Munson was mocking him.

“Well, I think it might be good for Eddie if –”

“You know why I ain't never at the school? 'Cause I'm tryin' my damned best to keep that boy's stomach filled. When should I be at the school, exactly, between my day shift at the quarry and my night shift at the plant?”

“I – I'm sorry,” Scott backpedaled. Suddenly, the frown lines in the tired face of the man in front of him had gotten a different meaning. “I didn't know. You're right, I shouldn't have made assumptions.”

“Look, I dunno how much he shared with you, Mr. Clarke, but I know he looks up to you. So I think you should know that he's the kinda kid who got in trouble at home for bein' “too sensitive.”” He shot Scott a meaningful glance. “Boy was cryin' to me on the phone, 'cause of what his daddy did to him, so I picked him up and drove him here and I made it my mission, as his uncle, to protect him, to shield him, and to take care of him as best as I possibly can.”

Scott had always prided himself on being a good judge of character. He wondered if he had ever been more wrong about somebody before in his life.

“I know he thinks highly of you, Sir,” Mr. Munson continued. “And I'm very grateful that you're keepin' an eye on him when I can't. But at some point, he may trust you with some very personal information about himself, and you better have his back when he does.”

He knows, Scott realized with a shock. He tried to give Mr. Munson a reassuring smile, but his heart was beating in his throat with what he was about to tell him.

“I was a sensitive kid, myself, Sir. I promise you Eddie is in good hands with me.”

Scott wondered whether Mr. Munson caught the message in those words while a long silence stretched out. Their gazes were locked: Mr. Munson's eyes were bright blue, completely different from Eddie's but just as expressive. His gaze softened while the seconds passed and underneath his graying beard, his mouth twitched.

“I was a sensitive kid, too,” he eventually said.

And Scott's jaw nearly dropped to the floor. This man, with his big calloused hands and his trucker's hat and his undeniably manly demeanor?

His feelings of astonishment must have been visible on his face, because Mr. Munson chortled softly.

“Didn't see that one coming, did ya?”

Scott laughed, too, making the last bit of residual tension between them disappear. “I'm sorry, Mr. Munson. I had no idea.”

“'S okay,” Mr. Munson said. “'s good to know that Eddie has someone lookin' out for him here. Um –” He scraped his throat. “I um...” He abruptly averted his gaze back to his lap again, where his fingers were nervously fumbling with the cap he was holding between his hands.

“I always make Eddie dinner,” he finally said. “'S one of the few things I can do for him, y'know. It'd probably be better for me if I took a quick nap 'tween my jobs, but it's the only time of the day we got together. I'm not much of a cook, but I try to get him to eat somethin' healthy and warm, and we talk about stuff, whatever it is he wants to talk about. So um... If you ever wanna join us – that is, if you don't mind comin' to the trailer park... We don't have much, but I'm sure we can fit another chair 'round the table. I think it could be good for Eddie.”

Scott could barely believe what was happening. To think that only a few minutes ago, he had been worried about this man having a temper or being neglectful towards his nephew...

Wayne Munson was shy and soft-spoken and he loved Eddie with a passion that sparked a fierce protectiveness. And after having Scott judge him based on the way he looked and a bunch of false assumptions, he showed him nothing but genuine goodness.

He felt his lips bend into a smile more authentic than he'd been able to give in a while.

“I'd love to join you sometime,” he told Mr. Munson. “For Eddie – but I also wouldn't mind getting to know you better,” he added in a sudden spur or braveness.

And he could swear that something suspiciously like a smile matching his own was hiding beneath Mr. Munson's beard.

[milfjuulpod]

Guidance

a new job as a guidance counselor lands you at Abbott Elementary, and it doesn’t take long for a certain redhead to catch your attention.

The morning air was surprisingly enjoyable, August bringing out comfortable weather again. It was Monday, the first day of your new job. Luckily for you, students weren’t coming back for another week, giving you time to get used to the new environment and plan out the school year. The steps up to Abbott Elementary were short, and you took a deep breath in before entering. The halls were filled with character, drawings from students and back to school posters flooded the white walls. Finding your way to the principal’s office, you decided to introduce yourself. 

       To your surprise, the office was empty. Lights off, and no personal items found, you assumed she hasn’t arrived yet. “If you’re looking for Ava she won’t be here for at least—” You turned around at the sound of a woman’s voice, her accent thick and attitude evident. She stopped speaking once she looked up from her phone and met your gaze, eyes scanning your whole body. “Who are you?” She asked bluntly. “I’m the new guidance counselor, sorry I was just looking for Ms. Coleman,” You gestured back to the empty room. 

       “Nice try. She’ll be here in a couple hours.” Uninterested in the conversation, the redhead started walking away from you. “Good luck, kid,” She said as she fully left your view. She didn’t leave your mind, though. Disappointed at the lack of direction, you decided to retreat to your new office and start setting things up for the week to come. 

-

       By the following Monday, you had met most of the staff, made some plans for the year, and were excited to finally meet the students. You found yourself in a little friend circle with Jacob, Janine, and Gregory. All of them were sweet in their own ways, and they were quick to accept you in (mostly Janine). A few other teachers were a different story. Barbara was incredibly sweet, but she seemed distant. You didn’t take it personally, from what you’ve heard, not many people stay too long at Abbott, and she was probably expecting you to be gone by next year. Nonetheless, Barbara was always kind. And then there was Melissa, the first person you met. She was…different. Outwardly tough, internally soft-hearted. You still couldn’t tell whether or not she trusted you yet, but you doubt she did. She kept her guard up, and made her disdain for “newbies” quite obvious. 

      Right before the lunch bell, there was a knock at your door. In waltzed Ava, with a student in tears by her side. “Hey gorgeous, this little man has been pestering students all morning long, but last year was a totally different story. Kid had friends in all grades!” She explained, keeping a hand on the student’s shoulder. “That’s alright, come sit down honey,” You said gently to the student, and smiled a goodbye to Ava. As she exited, she left your door propped open. Distracted by helping the student in front of you, it went unnoticed. But to a certain Italian, it was certainly noticed. Melissa took her time walking the halls, listening in on you working with a student. As she got closer, she realized it was her student, and that was enough of an excuse as any to allow herself in. She definitely didn’t want to go in just to watch you in your element. 

       “And Aniyah? Is she still your friend?” You asked the child in front of you, still unaware of the visitor you had. You turned around to grab a book, and when you faced the front again, you saw her. “Oh! Ms. Schemmenti, hi. Is this your student?” You asked. “Yeah, that one’s mine. And Melissa is fine,” She told you, smiling small, but it was there nonetheless. Maybe she did like you after all. 

       Melissa decided to sit in on your session with her student, which certainly didn’t help your nerves. Maybe she’s just protective, you thought to yourself. The minutes passed slowly, every so often you would look at Melissa to find her already looking at you. It was like that the whole time, her green eyes watching your every move while her perfect lips stayed tight together. It wasn’t until the bell rang again that she spoke. 

       “I’ll take him back with me. You were good today with him, he doesn’t talk much to new people. I’m impressed,” She complimented you, and you tried your best to not let it go to your head. “Thank you, that means a lot coming from you. Have a good rest of your day guys,” You waved goodbye to the student and teacher, and couldn’t help but watch Melissa leave and chat with her student. It had only been a week, and you were wrapped completely around her finger. 

[xiaosonlybeloved]

Hi! Saw your requests were open and I wanted to ask for Heizou and the Hanahaki prompt, please? 🙏🏼 you try your best to hide it from him but being the genius detective he is, he figures it out. I’d love to see how you write it!

Melancholy -Heizou

featuring:- Shikanoin Heizou, fem!reader, brief mentions of Kujou Sara tags:- Hanahaki AU, angst, hurt/no comfort, brief mentions of blood a/n:- im so so sorry anon for writing this so late! But here you go, and i hope you like it :) thank u for requesting! (i think it would kill me to actually write fluff for once)(also if i made a taglist, would you guys sign up?) wc:- 2.5k

masterlist

∼⟪◍⟫∼

‘He knew.’ You realised with a sinking heart as his firm eyes searched yours for answers, a hint of disbelief and concern in them. He’d figured it out.

∼⟪◍⟫∼

Everything started out small. It always does.

For you, it started the very day you two met, little by little. You’d needed someone to help you find and retrieve some books from your treasured collection that had gone missing, and good old Detective Heizou was the one assigned to help you.

He didn’t take long to draw you in. The charisma and confidence in his voice, the intelligence and wit sparkling in his eyes with a hint of mischief, the amusement dancing subtly across his face. Everything about him pulled you deeper in. Not to mention, you were incredibly impressed at how efficient he was at his job, despite his carefree, playful attitude- within 24 hours, each and every one of the missing books had been neatly stacked in a pile along with an apology letter from the thief, and Heizou had returned them to you, with that charmingly cocky grin of his. You’d thanked him profusely then, and he’d waved it off as just helping out a bit. He even refused to take payment, insisting that if you really wanted, you could repay him with a nice lunch or dinner.

Since then, your ‘friendship’ with Heizou only grew.with time.The next time you met, it was an accidental encounter in the streets of Inazuma, and then you’d repaid him with that promised lunch. After that, you two just seemed to bump into each other more often, or perhaps you both just noticed each other both. More than a year passed, and you two were fast friends.

Just friends.

You didn’t know when those pesky feelings started to develop, but they did, taking root in your heart like a bug. And your poor heart cracked a bit more everytime Heizou called you his best friend with a grin, or when he casually flirted with random people, your emotions covered with an airy smile that betrayed none of what you felt, unfortunately for you. If only he knew…

∼⟪◍⟫∼

“[Y/NNNN]!” Heizou called over to you with a grin as you stood talking to the owner of one of the flower shops in Inazuma, running over as if to give you some great news. Your heart jumped a bit to see him again, even if it had only been less than a day since you last saw him. “What is it now, ‘Zou?” you chuckled. “Which uncrackable case have you cracked now?” He stopped right in front of you, breathless. “Guess what? Kujou Sara confessed to me! Can you believe it? The high and mighty, proud general Sara?” He was laughing. 

You raised an eyebrow, trying to mask your surprise and disappointment. She got there first, huh? “Well? What did you say?” “I said yes, of course. Now boom, we’re dating.” Heizou replied easily.

You took in a deep breath, feeling like a hundred knives had been stabbed into you. But you needed to hide it, because Heizou was still looking at you expectantly, awaiting your response.

You’d always be his best friend. Not his lover.

This cold truth seemed to sink into your heart, as you controlled your facial expressions, making an excited smile that probably seemed very fake to the sharp eyes of someone like Heizou. You quickly followed it up. “Dang, I never thought I’d live to see the day when you actually dated someone! Man alive, am I surprised.” Heizou laughed again, his eyes crinkling, driving the wedge deeper into your heart. “Never thought I would too.” Then looking at his phone, he apparently remembered something as he quickly said, “Oh darn, I totally forgot I had to meet up with a client right now. See ya around, [Y/N]!”

You smiled sadly as he ran away, your heartbreak now visible on your face. You return your attention to the store owner who looks at you curiously. “Sorry, Ma’am, but I won’t be needing the flowers anymore. Could you please cancel my order?” The lady looked at you in sympathy as she nodded, probably having figured out who you were planning to confess to.

Back at home, you suddenly doubled over in a coughing fit, your lungs hurting.

∼⟪◍⟫∼

You’d stayed holed up at home for the next few days. Believe it or not, it actually wasn’t because of your broken heart. You’d fallen ill, and it greatly annoyed you. You kept coughing your throat out, and it wasn’t stopping. You did go about your normal routine for the first few days after Heizou told you, but then it got bad and you started staying home. Your friends often visited you, keeping you company. With their presence, you did seem to get a bit better.

So why was it that Heizou coming over out of concern for you always made you cough more?

One evening, he’d come over like always, with some medicines this time for bad coughs. Looking at his worried face at your deteriorating health, you wondered just how cruel it was for him to be always looking out for you, never knowing what you felt for him or what being with him did to you. 

Unfortunately, it was in front of him that your illness grew worse- you started coughing out blood, him panicked and trying to help you. 

Once you were temporarily better, he was insistent on staying the night with you to make sure that you didn’t get worse, but you made him leave reluctantly to get some rest. Immediately, you seemed to breathe a bit easier, even though your throat felt like there were vines practically growing in it. With that came an inkling suspicion of why you weren’t getting better. But it couldn’t be that, right? 

Then, a week later, you coughed out your first petal, confirming your worst fears.

∼⟪◍⟫∼

Purple hyacinths were known to mean sorrow, longing, etc. 'How fitting.' You thought bitterly as you ruminated upon your less-than-ideal situation. You’d known for a while now that you held strong feelings for Heizou, but you never thought it would actually develop into Hanahaki. Damn it… What do you do now? You had to at least confess to Heizou for a chance at surviving, no matter how slim. But that would be very hard to do, considering he’s literally dating. That thought brought a bitter taste in your mouth. The other option would be to get the surgery, but it would mean removing Heizou from your life for good, but you weren’t quite keen on doing that. If not… You’d die.

No. You would most certainly not allow yourself to die for a failed love. Sure, you really loved him, but there was no point in throwing away your life for someone. 

As you were thinking about this, there came a series of soft but strong knocks at your door. With a sigh, you dragged yourself down the stairs to see the visitor, noting that the knocks didn’t sound like Heizou’s or anyone else. 

When you see the person at your doorstep, your eyes light up after a long while. “Kokomi!” You exclaim as you run to hug your old friend. You’d been forced to part with her after you shifted from Watatsumi Island to Narukami Island, but you’d regularly kept in touch. Kokomi frowned as you led her into your home. “You’re ill, aren’t you?” “Yes indeed, Doctor Kokomi.” You tried to joke. Kokomi narrowed her eyes at you. “You smell of blood. What sickness do you have? I can heal you.”

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of whether to tell her or not. Not because you don’t trust her- she’s probably your most trusted confidante apart from Heizou, but because you’re a bit afraid of her reaction. With a sigh, you say, “Hanahaki.”

You could see it in the way her eyes fell. “Who is it? Heizou?” She asked, immediately understanding. You sighed in affirmation. “Can you heal me?” This time, it was Kokomi who was hesitant as she responded, “... I do know how to conduct the surgery, but there’s no other way out unless you confess and he accepts.” You grimaced. “Can you please keep this a secret from Heizou for now? I’m still thinking on what to do.” She nodded, looking resigned, but said, ”Alright, but you need to decide fast. To me, it looks like your illness is already quite severe. There is a certain stage beyond which the surgery cannot be conducted and the only option is to confess or die.” You nodded. “Thank you so much, Kokomi.” A while later, after you two had caught up with other topics, she left to go to the hotel she was staying at, giving you her address and telling her to come see you immediately if anything happened, along with some medicines for delaying the growth of the hanahaki.

∼⟪◍⟫∼ 

While you were chatting with Kokomi, Heizou was flipping through books on diseases and illnesses. Needless to say, he was worried sick on seeing that it had been weeks and your condition had only grown worse. 

On a different note, he had just broken up with Kujou Sara that morning. Things just weren’t working out, and he wasn’t interested anyways- he just wanted to try things out. So now, he had more time to find something to cure you. 

He groaned as he went through the list of symptoms. He had a feeling that he knew what was wrong with her, but he was too afraid to admit it. ‘Heavy persistent coughs that slowly deteriorate to frequent bloody coughs, along with a feeling of being unable to breathe. In the last stage, which is almost certainly fatal during the later phase, the victim coughs out flower petals symbolic of their situation, along with blood. When the flower petals change into full blooms, the surgery cannot be conducted anymore, and the disease becomes fatal.’

His heart sank- his worst fear had been confirmed. You had hanahaki. He hadn’t yet seen you cough out flower petals though- so there was still time. He’d talk to you about it today, unsure of whether you knew about Hanahaki or not. 

He also wondered who it was who was dumb enough to not accept or return your feelings. He would, in a jiffy.

∼⟪◍⟫∼

You sigh a little, enjoying the cool breeze hitting your face after so long. You were going over to pay Kokomi a visit, taking this as an excuse to get out of your house, which had started to feel cramped and stuffy. But of course, your moment of pleasure just had to be interrupted by another bout of flowery coughs as you hurried into some street corner to ensure that no one sees it. As you hurriedly stuff the purple flower petals with red, bloody edges into a bag you were carrying, a voice calls out to you that made dread settle in your heart.

Heizou stands there, staring directly at you and the bloody purple petals in your hands. 

‘He knew.’ You realised with a sinking heart as his firm eyes searched yours for answers, a hint of disbelief and concern in them. He’d figured it out.

“You didn’t tell me it had gotten this bad.” Heizou said quietly, stepping closer to you. “I didn’t want you to know.” You murmured a response, looking down at your feet to avoid his stare, his eyes still looking at you in disbelief. “Why? Why, [Y/N], why? Who is this person?” 

You gulp under his stare as you debate whether to tell him or not. Yes, you knew he was dating Sara but still… You were on your way to Kokomi’s anyways. The opportunity had presented itself, you should take it. 

“It’s you, Heizou. You’re the one I love.” you whisper as you look up to meet his gaze.

You wish you hadn’t. Then you wouldn’t have seen the way the disbelief in his eyes changed into shock, surprise, and denial.

It was clear as day to you- Heizou didn’t return your feelings, you were dumb for thinking you had a chance.

You ran past him straight to Kokomi’s, wanting to escape. On the way, you could feel another round of flowers coming up your throat, but you held them down till you reached your destination.

Meanwhile Heizou stood still, shocked at what had transpired, a hand outstretched in the direction you had ran.

It was him.

As his brain finally processed things, he was still in disbelief and shock. He had been smart enough to figure out that you had hanahaki, but much too dumb to realise who it was directed towards. It was then that he forced his body to run, to search for you.

Late into the night, he still had no idea where you went, as he stood in the desolate streets of Inazuma, hands clenched.

∼⟪◍⟫∼

More than a year had passed since then, and he had no clue of your whereabouts, or if you were even alive or dead. Everytime he thought of you, regret and guilt filled him as he cursed himself out.. If only he’d told her his feelings instead of hiding them like an idiot. If only he’d run after her immediately. If only he’d figured out your feelings faster. If only, if only…

He was in Watatsumi Island for a new case, although his efficiency at work had decreased over the last year. He thought he might as well take some time off for himself, give himself some time to recuperate quietly. 

But it seemed fate had other plans for him, as his eyes fell upon a figure in the woods of Watatsumi Island, one more than familiar to him.

His heart jumped into his throat as the figure straightened, then turned to look at him. “...[Y/N]?” He ran towards you to engulf you in a hug, but stopped short on seeing the expression on your face. There was curiosity, but not an inkling of recognition.

Ah. So that’s why he didn’t see you anymore. You’d taken the surgery and moved out.

“Oh, do I know you? May I help you? I see you are new here.” You said with a kind, polite smile, the one that you usually reserved for strangers.

His heart and fists clenched as he realised that you had no idea who he was anymore. As he realised that once again, he was too late.

[requests are open for now (please check requests page) ] tags and comments are very much appreciated!

[spnhunter4life]

Familiar

Summary: Sam, Dean and Y/N are on a case, and it turns out Y/N is just the monster's type.

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: reference to nonconsensual sex, canon typical violence

A/N: I've had this one done for a couple of weeks, but things have been very busy and so I just finally got around to doing a reread/edit of it. I hope everyone enjoys it!

This one includes the writing prompt "character A flipping positions and shoving B against a wall 'now this seems more familiar doesn’t it?'"

I don't remember where I found this. I have a list of prompts I saved, but didn't include who posted them, so if you happen to know where this came from, let me know and I'll give credit to that person.

Also, I've had someone ask me to be tagged in new stories I post. I am happy to do this, so if anyone else is interested in being tagged, let me know!

Masterlist

I met the Winchesters for the first time five years ago when I was 22. I was in college and had just moved to a new dorm building that turned out to be haunted by a ghost. I had been the next intended target when Dean and his dad stepped in and saved me. That was the last time I would see either of them for a long time, but I never forgot the faces of the people who had saved my life.

After that experience, I was obsessed with the supernatural. Dean and I had talked a little bit before they left town, and he told me about how he and his dad traveled the country killing monsters. I wanted to do that too. I wanted to be able to save people’s lives the way they had saved mine.

So a couple months later I dropped out of school and started getting ready to hunt. I signed up for a gym membership and started going everyday as well as taking boxing and Krav Maga lessons. My life had given very little opportunity for me to build muscle or learn to fight. But I wasn’t stupid enough to go into a fight with a supernaturally strong creature completely unprepared.

I gave myself a year to get in shape and learn to defend myself. During this time, I put every spare minute I had into research. I looked into what kinds of monsters were out there, how to kill them, which ones were most common. While doing all this research, I ran into a man named Bobby Singer. He had all kinds of helpful information and taught me how to track them down. I started the process of purchasing weapons I would need and also saving up money.

Once I felt ready, I set off on my first hunt. The overwhelming satisfaction I felt at saving a person from the ghost that had been haunting them was too much to ignore. I knew without a doubt now that this is what I should be doing with my life. So I went on another hunt. And another. 

Things were a little rough going at first and I got more injuries than I cared to admit – fighting a trained professional in a controlled environment wasn’t the same as going up against an angry monster – but my fighting skills improved and things started going smoother soon enough. I didn’t regret my choices.

I ran into Dean a little over a year later. I was looking into what I suspected to be a witch and had stopped for lunch at a local burger joint when I saw him. I recognized him immediately and went to talk to him. It took a little bit for him to remember me, but he did. When he asked what I was doing so far from home, I told him what I’d been up to since the day he saved my life. He seemed surprised and impressed. Apparently the people he saved didn’t often take up hunting afterwards. 

When I asked after his dad, he told me that they were starting to work separate cases on occasion. They still hunted together too, but not as often. 

Since we were both in town for the same reason, we agreed to work the case together. It was difficult at times, learning to rely on another person and factor their thoughts and opinions into what we were doing. I’d never hunted with someone else before. In other ways, though, it was so much easier. I decided I kind of liked having a partner. Dean and I worked well together.

He must have thought so too, because the day after we finished that hunt, he asked if I wanted to come with him to look into a string of suspicious murders a couple states over. I’d been hunting with him – and occasionally his dad – ever since. 

About nine months into our new arrangement, his dad went missing and so we picked up his brother Sam from school to help find him. Adding him to the mix had been another adjustment. That was two years ago now though, and we’d all found an easy rhythm together.

“We should go check this out,” Dean said, sliding the newspaper he’d been looking at across the table to Sam and pointing at one of the articles.

We were at a diner waiting for our breakfast to be brought out. Sam scanned the article.

“I don’t know, Dean,” Sam said, passing the newspaper to me when I motioned for it. I skimmed the article Dean had found. 

“Come on, Sam. Three murder suicides in under two weeks. That’s weird,” Dean insisted.

“It is weird. I just don’t see how it’s our kind of weird,” Sam answered. 

“Y/N? What do you think? You agree with me, don’t you?” Dean asked, confident I’d back him up. We typically saw things pretty eye to eye. Not always though.

“Well, actually I agree with Sam. There’s nothing here that really makes it sound like our kind of thing. But,” I continued, saying the word a little louder to stop Dean’s protest. “It’s only a few hours away and we have nothing else to do right now. So we might as well go check it out.”

“Alright, fine,” Sam agreed, sighing at the triumphant look on Dean’s face. “But I really think we’re wasting our time.”

“Right. Because we’ve got much more important, productive things going on here,” Dean said sarcastically.

“It’s never a waste of time,” I said. “Even if it ends up being nothing, making sure people aren’t being killed by something supernatural isn’t a waste. What if we decide it’s not worth checking out and it turns out it is our kind of thing? Then those deaths would be on us.”

“Ok, yes, you’re right. I already said we could go check it out,” Sam said.

“Well thanks for the permission, Sammy. I really don’t think we could’ve moved forward without it,” Dean snarked.

“Bite me,” Sam answered.

“Alright, cut it out you two,” I scolded.

The waiter brought our food out and we spent the meal trying to come up with ideas of what we could be dealing with. We didn’t come up with much since we had so little information to go off of. Dean paid our bill and we were just heading out the door when something occurred to me.

“Oh! What if it’s a siren?” I suggested.

“A siren? From Greek mythology? Like in The Odyssey?” Dean asked. 

“What?” Sam looked at his brother in surprise. 

“What?” Dean asked, a little smug and a little offended.

“What do you know about sirens?” Sam asked me, moving past his shock at Dean’s knowledge.

“Not much,” I admitted. We reached the car and I climbed into my usual spot behind Sam. “All the vics have been couples though, right?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed, turning in his seat to face me. “Is that important?”

“All I really know about sirens is that once they infect you they convince you to kill someone you love. The only siren case I’ve heard of had several husbands killing their wives before it was stopped. So maybe in this case once the men realize what they’ve done, they kill themselves.”

“Seems like the best theory we’ve come up with,” Dean said. He backed the Impala out of the parking spot and headed out of town towards the highway.

“Let’s get there and do some digging around before we settle on a theory,” Sam cautioned. “But say you’re right. How do we kill it?”

“I don’t know. I’ve already given you the extent of my knowledge on the subject.”

“Okay. Well at least we have a starting point. We can look into it more if that still seems like the most likely scenario after we’ve investigated things a little bit,” Sam said.

Apparently deeming the conversation finished, Dean turned up the music. I leaned my head against the window and watched the road blurring by.

~~~~~

The bar we were at was crowded, the music was loud, and the guy I was talking to was cute. Not stop and stare cute, but cute enough that when he came over to where I was standing at the bar and started flirting, I flirted back.

“So how long are you in town for?” Cute guy asked. I vaguely noted Dean in my peripheral vision, making his way to the bar. If I’d been paying attention, I would have noticed how irritated he looked. But I was trying not to notice him. He and I were just friends and would never be more. I’d accepted that. It meant I couldn’t let myself be distracted by him when there was a guy standing right in front of me who was interested.

“Don’t know yet,” I answered, giving him my best flirty smile. “I’m definitely here for the night though.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Dean interrupted. “Come on Y/N. Sam’s waiting for us.”

“Woah, hey, come on man,” cute guy protested. “You can’t just come in here and force her to leave. We were in the middle of a conversation.”

“You were, were you? Sorry pal, but we’ve got important things to do. Go find someone else to bother.” Dean grabbed my arm and pulled me with him, away from the bar and towards the exit.

“Dean!” I hissed as I was forced to follow along behind him. “What is your problem?” I asked when we made it outside.

“What’s my problem?” Dean echoed, letting go of my arm and turning to face me. “What’s your problem? You know what we’re after here. What made you think it was a good idea to offer to go home with some random guy who for all we know could be the siren?”

I scoffed and started to walk towards the car, but Dean grabbed me again and pushed me up against the building. He stepped in close and put an arm on either side of my head, effectively caging me in.

“What are you doing?” I asked. It didn’t sound quite as irritated as I wanted it to. His close proximity mixed with the few drinks I’d downed had me too overwhelmed to hold on to my anger.

“Next time you’re wanting to scratch an itch in the middle of a case where the monster we’re after seduces people into murder, just save us the trouble and come to me instead,” he instructed. Then before I knew what was happening, he leaned in and kissed me.

I gasped in surprise and he used the opportunity to lick into my mouth. Finally catching up to what was happening, I wrapped my arms around his neck, threading my fingers through his hair and eagerly kissing him back. I never could have predicted this, but I was so thrilled it was happening. 

He made his way to my neck. He kissed a couple of different spots before finding a spot he liked and starting to suck and nip-

I woke up with a jolt and a gasp. I quickly took in my surroundings and realized I’d fallen asleep in the back of the Impala. 

“You ok?” Dean asked, turning in his seat to look at me. I realized we were parked outside a motel. The engine turning off must have been what woke me. I briefly met his eyes and was immediately bombarded with the images from my dream. 

“Yeah,” I told him. I managed to successfully fight the blush that tried to rise in the presence of the very man I’d just been dreaming about. It wasn’t the first time I’d had this sort of dream about the older Winchester. I doubted it would be the last.

Dean went inside to get us a room. We unloaded our bags and made a plan. We decided the boys would drop me off at the police station to talk to the sheriff while they went to question the medical examiner. We would meet at a diner a few blocks away from the police station when we were done. 

“What’s the connection between all of these people?” I asked Sheriff Jones once I’d introduced myself and explained why I was there.

“Connection?” He asked.

“Yeah. This many murder suicides in this short of a time, there’s something going on here. Maybe you’re wrong about the suicide part and it’s just flat out murder. Maybe it’s some sort of messed up pact these people made. There has to be something that connects them though. So what is it?”

“As far as we can tell, there is no connection between any of them. Sometimes these things just happen,” he said.

“How long have you been sheriff?” I asked. He was starting to get up in age, probably in his mid to late 50s at a guess. I assumed he’d been a police officer for a long time.

“Almost 20 years,” he informed me proudly.

“And in those 20 years, how many times have you seen something like this? Three different couples killing each other and themselves. One after another.”

“Well… never,” he admitted.

“Right. So what’s the connection? Graduated from the same high school? Go to the same gym? In a bowling league together? There has to be something that connects them other than them all being married.”

“Actually, they weren’t all married,” Jones corrected.

“I was told they were,” I said. 

“The last couple wasn’t. They were roommates, but as far as I’m aware, that’s as far as the relationship went.”

Damn. Did this throw a wrench in my siren theory? Not necessarily. Just because they weren’t together doesn’t mean one of them wasn’t secretly in love with the other. Or maybe they were really close and loved each other in a non romantic way.

“Great. I’m gonna need a list of close family and friends of all the victims,” I requested.

“What for?” He asked.

“To find the connection. You figure out the pattern, you have a chance of stopping it from happening again,” I said frustratedly. How were these idiots not investigating this further? Did they really believe it was just all a coincidence? 

Jones gave me a list of names and I left. I scanned the list on my walk to the diner, trying to figure out where to start and how long it might take to talk to these people. I rounded a corner and ran into an extremely attractive man. 

“Sorry!” I apologized as he nearly spilled the coffee he was carrying.

“No worries,” he said, flashing a charming smile. “No harm done.”

Had I not spent every day of the past three years sharing close quarters with the most attractive man I’d ever seen in my life, I might have been caught off guard and turned into a mumbling mess. But my time with Dean mixed with the quick thinking and lying that was sometimes necessary for hunting meant I was able to keep it together.

“Still. I should have been watching where I was going.”

“Well in that case, I was just on my way to get some lunch. How about you make it up to me by coming with?” He offered. It only took me a few seconds of consideration to make a decision.

“Sorry, but I’m busy. I’m on my way to meet a couple of colleagues for a kind of work lunch,” I told him.

“Ah. Well, maybe next time,” he smiled.

“Maybe,” I agreed, knowing there wouldn’t be a next time. I sighed as I continued my walk to the diner. He was awfully good looking. Under different circumstances, I probably would have taken him up on his offer. 

I walked the last couple of blocks and noted that the familiar black car wasn’t in the parking lot. I went in, found an open table that would fit all three of us, and sat down. I had to wait about ten minutes before Sam and Dean walked in. 

“Hey. What did you find out?” I asked once they were seated.

“Not much. There wasn’t anything unusual about the bodies as far as anyone could tell. The ME did say that based on the most recent body, she wondered if the suicides weren’t actually suicides though. She’s looking over the other two bodies again to see if it could have been staged to look like a suicide,” Sam told me.

“That qualifies as not much to you?” I asked. “I mean, granted it doesn’t really up the weird factor. But what if they missed something else too? Something they wouldn’t know to look for?”

“That’s exactly what I said,” Dean said smugly.

“Whatever. I’m not having this discussion again,” Sam told his brother as the waiter came over. We rattled off our orders to him and waited for him to leave before continuing.

“Did you find anything?” Sam asked.

“No. I do have a list of people for us to talk to though,” I answered. I took the list out of the pocket I’d tucked it into after folding it up and handed it to Sam.

“What, the cops have a suspect list?” Dean asked.

“No,” I snorted. “Whether or not this ends up being our kind of case, I feel bad for the people in this town. Their idiot sheriff doesn’t even think it’s worth looking into. It’s an open and shut case as far as he’s concerned.”

“What’s your list then?” Dean questioned, leaning over to read over Sam’s shoulder.

“Close family and friends,” I answered. “I’m hoping we can figure out what connects them all.”

“Right,” Sam said. “It’s not like we can monitor every single married couple in this town on the off chance they might get murdered.”

“Actually, they weren’t all married,” I told him. “I guess the last two were just roommates.”

“There goes the siren theory,” Dean sighed.

“Not necessarily. It still could be,” I said.

“How?”

“Sirens don’t target married people specifically,” I explained. “They just make you kill someone you love.”

“So you’re saying they were living together as friends but secretly in love?” Dean asked.

“Maybe. Or maybe not. Love doesn’t have to be romantic.”

The waiter brought out our food and we made a plan as we ate. Dean wanted to check out the crime scenes first. Sam argued that we might get more information from talking to people. I wanted to side with Dean because I really wasn’t looking forward to interviewing ten different people, but I had to agree with Sam. Might as well get this part out of the way. We could look at the victims’ houses after.

~~~~~

Several hours and too many interviews full of crying loved ones later, we stood in our motel room going over the information we’d gathered today. The ME had called an hour ago and confirmed that it was flat out murder, not murder suicide. We hadn’t gotten any useful information out of any of the people we talked to today though, and we were all a little frustrated. 

“Alright, well the roommate vics were extremely close,” Sam recapped, thinking out loud. “Which means Y/N’s theory on them loving each other pans out, leaving a siren as the most likely culprit. But how are we supposed to find it? We still don’t have anything that links these people together,” Sam grumbled.

“And why is it killing people?” I added. “Usually they leave the killing to their victims. Maybe we missed something.”

“Or,” Dean cut in, standing up from the chair he’d been in. “We'll find the answers we need at the crime scenes. Which I said we should look at four hours ago.”

“Yeah, Dean. We know,” Sam snapped.

“Let’s just figure out our next step,” I interjected. 

“Maybe we should do some research on sirens. It would be easier to track it if we can figure out where they live, how they make people do what they want, that sort of thing,” Sam suggested.

“C’mon Sam, we’ve spent all day doing research on the victims. Now you’re telling me you want to do more research?” Dean complained. “What we should do is go to their houses. I’m telling you, if we want answers, that’s where we’ll find them.”

“Maybe, but we still have to know what we’re up against,” Sam pointed out. “Why don’t you and Y/N go check out the houses. I’ll stay here and research,” he suggested. 

“Fine. Let’s go,” Dean said, satisfied with this compromise. He went outside and I heard the Impala’s engine roar to life a few seconds later. 

Sam grabbed his laptop and settled in to work while I grabbed my coat.

“Let us know if you find anything,” I said. Sam assured me he would and then I followed Dean out the door.

We decided to split up to cover ground faster. Dean would drop me off at the first house and head to the second house himself. When he was done there he would pick me up and we would look at the last place together.

Dean parked outside the first house, a small blue one with a row of flowers planted along the front of it.

“I’ll call you when I’m on my way back,” he told me as I was getting out of the car. He drove away and I walked into the house, ducking under the police tape strung up on the door.

The first room I walked through was the kitchen. Other than a few unwashed dishes in the sink, it was spotless. I knew the murders had happened in the bedroom, so I didn’t expect to see much in the rest of the house, but I was looking for any sort of clue that would lead us to the siren. I took a quick look at the pictures on the fridge but didn’t see anything that would help.

The next room was the living room which was also clean. A cursory scan of the room told me these two were huge movie fans. There were several movie posters hanging up on the walls, an entertainment center overflowing with DVDs, and a little box full of old movie tickets. I didn’t know how this could be a connection with the other couples, but it was clearly a big part of their lives, so it was worth making a mental note of. Other than that, I didn’t see much. A brochure for a yoga class stuck underneath a pile of magazines on the coffee table. A framed picture of the two skiing was hanging on the wall. I noticed a coffee mug with what I assumed was the name of a local bar printed on the side. I made another mental note of both the yoga class and the bar just in case.

Then I moved on to the bedroom. Even if I hadn’t known ahead of time what happened in here, it would have been pretty clear. There was a bloodstain on the bed and the blankets were rumpled, like there had been a struggle on top of them. One of the pillows was knocked on the floor. The nightstand on the left side of the bed had been knocked over, a picture frame shattered beside it. And there was a second blood stain on the cream carpet.

I braced myself, turning off the part of my brain that wanted to be horrified and turn away from the scene. I looked around the room for any sort of clue as to who the siren might be or where it might have gone. It would be a lot easier if I knew what exactly I was looking for. Sam was right. We should have done the research first. 

After thoroughly searching the bedroom and the bathroom and finding nothing, I made my way back out of the house. I wasn’t quite ready to give up yet, but I was getting more doubtful that this wasn’t something the real FBI should be handling. I stepped back outside and saw the cute guy from earlier walking past. He heard the door close behind me and looked over.

“Oh, it’s you,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he answered as I walked towards him. “I do believe that’s a crime scene you just walked out of. Not exactly legal.”

“It is when you’re FBI,” I told him, pulling out my badge. It identified me as agent Y/N Perry.

“That explains why I haven’t seen you around before,” he said, not seeming overly surprised by the news.

“What are you doing here?” I asked again. 

“I live next door,” he told me. “I didn’t really know them. Terrible what happened though.”

“It is,” I agreed. My phone rang and I took it out of my pocket, seeing Sam’s name on the screen. I excused myself to answer it.

“Hey, Sam. What did you find?” 

“Have you heard from Dean?” He asked urgently. 

“No, why?” I asked, immediately worried. Before he could answer, everything went dark.

~~~~~

Sam’s POV

“What do you got, Sam?” Dean asked immediately upon answering my call.

“Not much, but I think I’m starting to figure out more about this siren,” I told him. I hadn’t had time to gather much information yet, but what I had found mixed with a quick phone call to the ME was starting to clear things up.

“Like what?” 

“So get this. When sirens… put you under their spell or whatever, it leaves high levels of a hormone called oxytocin in your blood.”

“So?”

“So, I called the ME and asked her about it. There were high traces in three of the victims. The female victims. For whatever reason, this siren is going after the women, not the men.”

“Son of a bitch! Please tell me you called Y/N before you called me,” Dean said.

“Why? Aren’t you together?”

“No,” Dean growled out in a tone of voice that suggested stress and frustration. “We split up to move faster.”

“Alright. Well don’t worry. I’m sure she’s fine. I’ll call her now,” I said, trying to calm him.

“I’m going back to get her. I’ll call her on the way.”

Before I could argue that he was already worked up enough and should just focus on driving I heard a thump, Dean grunting, and then the sound of his phone clattering on the ground.

“Dean!” I yelled. No response. I hung up and headed outside. I needed to find a car. Once I had one ready to go, I started driving to the closest address on the list.

~~~~~

Y/N’s POV

The first thing that registered in my mind was the way my body was shaking. I heard a distant voice calling my name as consciousness slowly found me. It took a few seconds for me to fully wake up and process what was happening. The shaking was due to the hand on my shoulder, trying to jostle me into consciousness. The voice was Dean’s, and it wasn’t distant. It was right in front of me.

My head was pounding. I tried to remember what happened. I was outside waiting for Dean. Sam called. Then what?

“Y/N!” Dean said a little louder. I opened my eyes and immediately closed them again, hissing at the pain that shot through my skull from the bright light in the room. Someone must have hit me over the head. Who? No one else had even been around. Except for that guy I bumped into earlier. He must be the siren then.

I felt a surge of frustration at my stupidity. How did I miss it? I knew it was weird that he just happened to be outside that house.

“C’mon. We should get out of here,” Dean encouraged, pulling me to my feet.

“Just a minute,” I pleaded as a wave of dizziness rushed over me upon standing. I braced my hand on the wall beside me.

“What happened?” He asked. “You didn’t answer the phone.”

Once the dizziness passed, I slowly opened my eyes. The pounding in my head was intense, but it was more manageable when I took things slow.

“Where is he?” I asked.

“Who, the siren? Dead,” he told me. That was good news I guess. I didn’t know how much help I’d be in a fight right now. He was almost entirely supporting my weight. Then something occurred to me.

“How?” I asked, looking up at his face. “We don’t know how to kill them.”

“Well I had a machete with me. I couldn’t walk in here completely defenseless. When I saw him standing over you, I cut his head off. Apparently that’s all it takes,” he explained.

I looked around the room, searching for the body, and realized this was the house of the first murdered couple. We were in the living room.

“He brought me in here?” I asked.

“Well. It was close by. And there isn’t much chance of anyone walking in. Made it easy for me to find you, too. How are you feeling? Ready to go?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I told him. My head was still pounding, but the dizziness was gone.

“Good,” he said, carefully turning me to face him. “I was really worried about you.” Then he kissed me.

I so badly wanted to be able to enjoy this. I’d dreamed about it so many times but never imagined I’d ever build up the courage to tell him how I felt. Or that my feelings would be reciprocated. 

I placed one hand on the back of his neck and gave myself a couple of seconds to be sure my balance was good. Then in one quick motion I stepped to the side and used the hand around his neck to shove him face first into the wall.

“Ow! What the hell?!” He yelled, clutching a hand to his bleeding nose. 

“Where’s Dean?” I asked, watching closely for any indication he was about to run or attack.

“I am Dean!” He insisted. He held a hand out placatingly and took a step towards me.

“Stay back,” I warned him. I reached into my boot and grabbed the silver knife I kept there at all times. “I know a shapeshifter when I see one.”

He dropped his hands and stood up straighter, a cocky smile gracing his mouth. He started to walk in a slow circle around me.

“What gave me away?” He asked casually.

“A few things,” I answered, rotating my body to keep him directly in front of me at all times. 

“Like?” 

“Where’s Dean?” I asked again.

“Oh, he’s fine for now. Just a little tied up at the moment,” he smirked.

I lunged for him, hoping to catch him by surprise. He easily blocked the knife I had aimed directly at his heart and threw a punch that caught me in the stomach. The force of the blow knocked the breath out of me, but I recovered quickly and slashed out with the knife at the hand that was reaching for my hair. He hissed in pain and quickly withdrew his hand.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” the fake Dean growled. “You know you can’t win. Might as well save yourself some of the pain.”

My head was killing me and the dizziness was threatening to return and become a very serious problem. I waited for his next attack. I didn’t have to wait long. I saw his muscles tense to move and then he closed the distance between us quickly. 

He reached out for the hand that was holding the knife, trying to force it out of my grip without touching it. I took advantage of the way he focused on the knife to kick his knee as hard as I could. His knee buckled and I used all the strength I had to push him into the wall behind him. I pressed the knife to his throat.

“Where is Dean?” I demanded.

“What gave me away?” He asked again. I couldn’t believe the arrogance. Did he really not care about anything but the fact that I’d seen through him?

“I’m not going to ask again,” I threatened, pressing the knife just a little harder into his skin. “Where is he?”

“Quid pro quo,” he offered. “Answer my question, I’ll answer yours.”

I seriously debated just killing him, but decided to humor him just this once. He wasn’t going anywhere and I’d get the answer out of him one way or another.

“First of all, Dean wouldn’t just sit there waiting for me to wake up. He would have just carried me out. Secondly, he has a scratch on his jaw that hasn’t healed all the way yet. That particular scratch is missing from your face. Third, if he’s not sure which weapon to bring with, he always chooses his gun. Silver kills a lot of things, so it’s usually the safest bet. Also, where’s the body? You said you killed the siren, but there isn’t a body. And as far as that goes, you don’t have a machete either.”

“Hmm. You’re observant,” he said. “Not observant enough though. Otherwise you probably would have seen this coming.”

His hand shot up and grabbed my wrist, pushing the knife away from his neck. He pressed hard on the tendons there until I was forced to drop the knife. Then he spun us around, pressing me up against the wall. He pinned both of my wrists to the wall and leaned in close, his breath brushing my face.

“Now this seems more familiar, doesn’t it?” He smiled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I spat.

“No?” He mocked, pressing his cheek to mine and talking directly into my ear. “You’ve never dreamed about Dean pressing you into the nearest wall and kissing you breathless? I think you have. Many times. As recently as just a few hours ago.” 

I whipped my head to the side to look at him. He grinned triumphantly. 

“That’s right. I’ve been inside your head. I know exactly how you feel about this pretty boy of yours.” 

I bristled at the way he had stolen Dean’s face, tried to use it against me, and was now flaunting that fact.

“You don’t know anything,” I spat. He just continued as if I hadn’t said anything.

“That’s why I chose you. It was pure coincidence running into you, but you’re a very attractive woman, so I figured I’d give it a shot.”

“Give what a shot? Murder? News flash, you’ve already done that. I’d suggest branching out and finding a new hobby.” I pushed lightly against his hands, testing the possibility of breaking free. That wasn’t an option. He was holding on tight, and I wouldn’t be able to beat him in a battle of strength.

He smiled and kept ignoring me.

“You see, I had to turn into you first to get in your head and see if you fit what I was looking for. It was a shock, of course, to find out that you’re a hunter. But it turns out you did fit my needs, and you and your friends were so far off the mark, I knew I’d be safe enough.”

“What do you mean, I fit your needs?” I asked. I had a plan to escape his hold, but as long as he was content to talk, I wanted answers.

“Well you’re in love of course,” he said.

“So?” I didn’t bother denying it. Like he said, he’d already been in my head. 

“So,” he answered as if I was being extremely stupid. “Isn’t it so much better being with someone when you’re in love?”

I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. Being with someone? What was he talking about? What did it have to do with murder? 

I felt a wave of horror and disgust wash over me as I understood his meaning. He’d posed as the men the women were in love with and slept with them before murdering them both.

“If it’s any consolation, they died happy,” he told me. “Well,” he amended. “The women did, anyway.”

“So what?” I snarled. “You thought you’d come in here looking like Dean and I’d just take my clothes off for you? Just like that?”

“Well, not just like that. But I figured you’d be willing enough once I had some time to convince you.”

I remembered how he had kissed me before. I assume that was the kind of convincing he was referring to. 

“We still could, you know,” he offered. He brushed his lips gently against mine and I jerked away. “You can pretend I’m him and I’ll give you what you’ve always wanted.”

“Right before you kill me, you mean?”

“Well obviously I can’t let you live,” he said.

“I think I’ll pass,” I said. I drove my knee up as hard as I could into his crotch. He may not have been entirely human, but he still went down as hard as any human man.

I dropped down to pick up my knife, doing my best to ignore the pain the quick movement caused in my head. I didn’t give the shapeshifter time to recover. I immediately turned to him and drove the knife into his heart. He gasped in shock and pain and then collapsed, unmoving.

I rose to my feet and made my way – a little unsteadily – out of the house. I was pretty sure I had a concussion and that fight had taken all the strength and energy I could muster. As I stepped out of the house, a car came screeching down the road and parked next to the only other car on the street. I didn’t know if I could really handle it, but I prepared myself for another fight.

The driver door opened and a tall man stepped out. Sam, I realized when he called my name. And the car he was in was the Impala. How had he gotten it? Sam ran over to me and put a steadying hand on my shoulder.

“Are you ok? What happened?” He asked.

“Where’s Dean?” I asked, ignoring his questions.

“I don’t know. I’ve been looking for both of you,” Sam said. “I found Dean’s car at the second house, but no sign of him. I was hoping I’d find him here with you.”

Just then we heard a muffled banging noise coming from the other car on the street.

“Stay here,” Sam told me, drawing his gun as he walked towards it. I was in no position to argue seeing as the dizziness was returning and I was struggling to keep my balance. He stopped by the trunk of the car. “Dean?”

“Sam! Get me out of here,” I heard Dean say from inside.

“Just a second,” Sam breathed out in relief. He tucked his gun back into his jeans and went around to the front of the car in search of the keys. He pulled them out of the ignition and then opened the trunk. Dean jumped out, fuming. He was down to just jeans and a t-shirt, the shifter having stolen the rest of his usual layers.

“Where is it? I’m gonna kill it,” he seethed, marching towards the house. He paused momentarily when he saw me swaying on the sidewalk and then hurried over to me. He wrapped my arm around his shoulders and put his own around my waist to help me stay balanced.

“What happened? Did the siren do something to you? Where is it?” He asked.

“It was a shapeshifter, not a siren,” I told both him and Sam who had followed close behind his brother.

“Was?” Sam questioned.

“It’s dead,” I said.

“That explains why my clothes are gone,” Dean said irritatedly. “Why is it that we seem to be leaving behind a trail of shapeshifter bodies wearing my face?”

“Well, you’re an objectively good looking guy. Maybe they just can’t resist all the girls they know they’ll get with a face like that,” I teased.

“Alright, well you’re obviously in even worse shape than I thought,” Dean said, half teasing half genuinely worried. I guess I haven’t ever said anything to him before about him being attractive. This concussion was loosening my tongue apparently. “Sam, you mind getting the body? I’m gonna get Wobbly here to the car.”

“Why can’t we just leave it?” Sam asked.

“Because I want my clothes back for one thing,” Dean replied. “And for another, I don’t want to be blamed for yet another set of murders.”

“Good point,” Sam agreed. He headed for the house.

Dean turned us towards the car and the movement caused me to trip a little on my own feet. The adrenaline was fading away, leaving me helpless to fight off the dizziness that I thought had disappeared.

Rather than let me stumble my way to the car, Dean moved the arm he had around my waist a little higher on my back and put his other arm under my knees, scooping me up in his arms and carrying me. I couldn’t be bothered to keep my head held up and rested it against his chest.

“What happened?” he asked, referring to my balance issues.

“He caught me by surprise and hit me over the head. I think I have a concussion.”

“You thought he was me, so you didn’t see it coming,” Dean said. He adjusted my weight so he was able to open the car door.

“No. He looked like someone else. I turned my back to take a call and he hit me. When I woke up he was pretending to be you,” I explained.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he sighed as he gently set me down, careful not to hit my head.

“Why?” I wondered.

“He took me out too. Only I didn’t even know he was there. If I’d been paying attention better, I could have stopped him before he got to you,” Dean said, ashamed.

“Not everything is your fault, you know,” I told him. I saw Sam step out of the house, a large body tossed over his shoulder. “This isn’t on you. And it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s over.”

I could tell he didn’t agree with me and he would beat himself up over this for a while. But he left to open the trunk for Sam and I was too exhausted to try and convince him otherwise.

~~~~~

An hour later Sam was watching over me while Dean went to take care of the body. I sat on the lumpy couch and held a bag of frozen peas to the back of my head in an attempt to bring down the swelling. I’d taken Ibuprofen as soon as we got to the motel and both the headache and the dizziness were slowly starting to fade. I’m sure finally sitting still helped the situation too.

“Why do you think it killed them?” Sam wondered aloud. “I mean, how did he choose his victims?”

“He chose women that he considered beautiful and that were in love. He turned into the man they loved and when he was done with them, he killed them,” I answered even though he hadn’t actually been expecting an explanation.

“He told you?” He asked, surprised.

“In way too much detail,” I said.

He was quiet for a moment.

“You know what I don’t get? If it wasn’t a siren then where did the oxytocin come from?” 

“The what?” I asked.

“Oxytocin. It’s a hormone that sirens infect you with,” he explained. “Actually, Dean was on his way to warn you when he got ambushed. I told him that all the women had high levels and so it looked like they were the ones being targeted.”

My face drained of blood at the reminder of what that thing had done to those women. Of what he’d tried to do to me.

“I know what it is,” I told him. “And it’s not specific to sirens. It’s a naturally occurring hormone in the body. Ever heard of the love hormone?” At his nod I continued. “It occurs during childbirth, breastfeeding… and sex. That’s why he wanted women that were in love. He said it’s so much better that way.” 

Understanding showed on his face alongside a mix of horror and protective anger.

“Y/N… he didn’t?”

“No,” I assured him quickly. “Not me anyway. I figured out what he was too quickly.”

Relief replaced the other emotions on his face and he stayed silent as he processed this new information. Then he wrinkled his brow in confusion.

“You said he chose women that were in love,” he said.

“Yeah,” I confirmed.

“So why did he go after you?”

I was practiced enough at hiding my feelings for the older Winchester from both brothers that I didn’t even have to hesitate to come up with an explanation.

“I guess he found me attractive. Per his usual pattern, he turned into me to see if I was in love with anyone and found out pretty quickly that I’m a hunter.”

“Then why did he turn into Dean?” He asked.

“He was pretending to rescue me,” I answered.

“Right, but why? What’s the point? If he wanted you dead, he had the chance. There was no reason for him to mess with you that way.”

I didn’t have a reasonable explanation for this, so I stayed quiet.

“He wasn’t just going after you because you’re a hunter. You fit the profile he was after and he wanted to-” he cut himself off and considered his wording. “He wanted to… complete his usual pattern. Because you’re in love with Dean,” he surmised, smiling a little bit at this conclusion. 

I decided silence was the best option here. I couldn’t possibly contradict his completely accurate deduction. I wouldn’t outright confirm it for him, but I wasn’t going to deny what we both knew to be true.

“Y/N.”

More silence.

“Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll drop it,” he promised. I sighed.

“You know you’re not,” I told him.

“Then why don’t you do something about it?” He asked.

“There’s nothing to do about it,” I answered. “He doesn’t see me that way. And that’s fine. I’ve accepted it.”

“How do you know he doesn’t feel the same if you don’t tell him?”

“Sam, I’m really not in any condition to do anything to you right now, but I swear if you say anything to him, there’s going to be hell to pay in a couple of days,” I warned.

“I’m not going to say anything,” he said, offended by my assumption. “But I really think you should tell him. You guys are so great together. I think you would be good for each other. And I would be very happy for you.”

“Thanks, I guess. My head hurts too much to even consider thinking about this right now,” I told him.

“Alright, fine. I’ll let it go,” he conceded. “For now.”

“That’s all I ask.”

After that we sat in companionable silence while we waited for Dean to get back. Sam turned the TV on. I closed my eyes to block out the light and just listened to it, finding it to be a suitable distraction from the day’s events.

Dean got back probably twenty minutes later by my estimation.

“Hey, how are you doing?” He asked as soon as the door was shut behind him.

“A little better,” I told him. 

“Good,” he said. He took the peas from my hand and gently felt the lump that had formed on the back of my head. “I think the swelling might actually be going down a little bit.”

He took the now room temperature peas to the freezer and switched them out for a fresh bag. He handed it to me and then sat down beside me, putting his arm around me. 

“Is this ok?” He asked. He didn’t know the details that Sam did about the shapeshifter’s intentions, but he knew that I had been attacked today by a guy wearing his face. 

“You don’t have to tiptoe around me,” I told him. “I know it wasn’t you. For the record, I knew the whole time it wasn’t you. I’m fine. I’m not traumatized and I’m not afraid of you.”

“A simple yes would have been fine,” he teased, pulling me closer into his side.

Movement from Sam’s direction had me glancing at him. He just smiled at me, looking meaningfully at Dean and then winking at me. I would have rolled my eyes if the action wouldn’t hurt my head. Instead I pointedly looked away from him. Things with me and Dean were fine the way they were. I wasn’t going to mess it up now just because Sam knew about my feelings.

A romantic relationship with Dean was something I wanted, but not something I needed. This right here – sitting together with my two best friends, knowing that even though I was temporarily unable to defend myself should it be necessary I was still safe and protected – this was all I needed. At least, that’s what I’d continue to tell myself.

Chapter 2

Tags:

@123passwort

[subbyalbedo]

Kinktober Day 28 - CORRUPTION with Tanjiro Kamado Pt 1

Dom!reader x sub!Tanjiro

~~~

Tanjiro was innocent.

Extremely.

That much was clear, and you thought it was absolutely delicious.

With his bright smiles and helpfulness and innocence.

From the moment you met him, you had been waiting for the moment to corrupt him, and that moment was coming fast.

You had started with getting close to him, making him trust and like you, keeping it nice and PG.

After a little bit of that, when he got comfortable around you, you started to touch him more.

Still not very sexual, but enough to make him think about you, and maybe become a little bit flustered at times.

Slowly, you got closer to him, teasing him and making him expect it to come, every time you saw each other (which was pretty often), he would be prepared for what you would do.

But once you had brought him to secretly enjoy it, you moved on to the next part of your plan.

"Hey, Tanjiro!" You greeted him with a smile, and he anticipated when you would walk up to him and hug him tightly, as you always would, but it didn't come.

As his arms were slightly outstretched waiting for you, you turned to the side and said, "Hi Zenitsu!" before continuing on, and you had to hold back your smirk when you saw Tanjiro wilt a little bit in the corner of your gaze.

A little while later, you were out to lunch, you, Zenitsu, and Tanjiro, eating at a little cafe to hang out.

It was a common occurrence, for you to chill with them, hang out. And the last few times you would lean on Tanjiro, lightly rubbing his thigh, and after a little squeak let out, he would let you do it with a red face as Zenitsu sat across from you oblivious, thinking about Nezuko.

But the last few times, Tanjiro had come to expect your touches, he was ready.

And just like with the hug, you did nothing. You sat straight up, cracked a few jokes like usual, and you ate like normal. While he sat there slightly disappointed, and he didn't even know why!

Bad feelings bubbled up inside him, and he was just confused. Why was he upset? Your touches didn't mean anything, you were just that kind of person. Sure, you'd only do it to him, but it made him feel...nice...he thought? He wasn't sure how he felt, except that he was disappointed and it had to do with you not being as close with him as usual. Which led to more confusion, he didn't know what he was feeling at all!

So he tried to ignore it as he watched you, seeing you act like nothing was different while he was questioning everything.

Of course, you noticed, and you were surprised by how well your plan was working.

To make sure it fully effected him, when it was time for the three of you to part ways for the different things you had to do, you gave Zenitsu a tight hug before leaving with a bright, "Bye, Tanjiro!"

Tanjiro immediately zeroed in on how you had hugged Zenitsu normally, while leaving him standing there feeling cold.

And of course, Tanjiro knew that in most things, he was more level headed and knowledgeable than Zenitsu, but something told me he should consult with the yellow haired boy to understand what was happening to him.

"...Zenitsu?" He started quietly. "Why do I feel like this? Y/n didn't... touch me as much as they usually do? Which I think is fine but I feel really upset inside and I don't know why."

Turning to him with a little giggle, Zenitsu responded. "Sounds like you enjoy when they...touch you," (he paused for a suggestive eyebrow wiggle that Tanjiro of course didn't understand), "and when they didn't, you were a little disappointed."

Tanjiro was still confused. "Why does she touch me more than other people? Why do I want her touch when there is no logical reason for it? Why do I feel like this?"

He looked to Zenitsu to provide him with answers, and that's just what Zenitsu did.

"Well, when two people really like each other"....

~~~~~~~

Lets just say, that by the end of that conversation, Tanjiro was way more informed than he wanted to be, and had heard way too much information about sexual relationships from Zenitsu's rambling.

That night, he as he lay in bed, he was...thinking.

Thinking about you, thinking about what Zenitsu said, thinking and thinking. But he didn't understand why people enjoyed these kinds of things that were so...dirty? Wouldn't they just do it for reproduction purposes? (Did you want to...reproduce...with him?)

He remembered all of your touches, it was as if he could feel them like ghosts in the dark, and as he thought about being interested in you...sexually...he felt a feeling begin to stir in his lower parts.

As he began to heat up, he felt his heart racing, thinking about you, and what you could have possibly wanted to do to him with all of your touches, and what you could to do him.

He felt the need to feel your touch on his lower parts, and he grimaced at the implications of his thoughts but he couldn't help it, and

oh.

He hadn't even noticed that his hand had drifted downwards until it was already pressing lightly on his clothed erection.

And he suddenly understood why people enjoyed these kinds of things, because it felt better than anything he could remember feeling, and it was just from one small touch.

Experimenting a bit more, he pressed down more sharply, and couldn't hold back the moan that tumbled from his lips as he rolled them upwards into his palm.

Oh, he couldn't help but imagining it was you doing it to him, and suddenly his pants were too tight and he was panting, getting them off of him quickly.

But as soon as he did that, he wished he kept them on, because now he was faced with his length that was leaking precum slightly, and he didn't know how to deal with it, it was so much more simple when his pants were on.

As he gave his...penis? (he didn't know what to call it in his head, nothing sounded right in this sort of situation)(but anyway), he gave his penis a couple soft, experimentary strokes, he let out little sighs, but it wasn't enough, he didn't know how to do it right, and he was getting desperate.

He realized how dirty he was being stroking himself to thoughts of you when you probably didn't feel this way about him, and he was about to give up, embarrassed and ashamed of himself, when he heard a knock on his door.

"Hey Tanjiro! Can I talk to you?" You purred.

And he froze, cock still in his hand, eyes wide and focused on the door.

~~~

Aaaaand that's it for this one! (I was really tired when I wrote this lol)

I'm releasing a part 2 tomorrow, and I hoped you enjoyed!

[wol-fica]

-𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕣 𝕊𝕦𝕟-

summary - Jenna is a simp.

warnings - fluff!, r is slightly shorter than Jenna, kissing, implied make out session

an - wrote this in honor of @i984 (my wife) cause i love her<3

—————

Jenna was never a lovey-dovey person. Most often she kept to herself and didn’t bother anyone with her needs or wants, she didn’t prefer to express her feelings.

Love, to her, was a concept she would never be able to understand. She considered herself to be a dry, bland, unsweetened girl whose priorities lied within her job and her family. She had absolutely no time for a relationship, and that was that.

Until you came along.

See, you were different than all the others who tried to swoon Jenna. Your personality encapsulated her in such a way that she thought she was going crazy. Your smile was a glowing aura that lit up the room like the sun on a breezy summer sunday. Your eyes, oh your eyes; they were a glorious color of auburn red and caramel brown with a hint of orange thrown into the mix. Jenna would count every freckle that dusted your face and hit herself when she got a new number every time.

Now, how did she get here?

Well, you were an aspiring film student. You went to and graduated from Harvard with a masters degree in filmography and directorship. You loved movies, especially horror, and have always had a small section of your heart devoted to analyzing and breaking down iconic movie scenes. You adored being on sets and meeting wonderful actresses and actors, then working with them to make something so phenomenal you wish you could save it forever.

Jenna happened to be a wonderful actress, and you scored a job as the co-director for the upcoming Netflix hit, Wednesday. The addams family had always been a classic for you, and now working on it was so surreal that you passed out when you got the job.

As of present day, you were on set for Wednesday. It was lunch break currently, so you resided to your tent to eat Pad Thai and go over notes you had written down. The crisp-smelling air blew through the open flap as you ate, suddenly filling your nostrils with the scent of ceder wood and vanilla. Your eyes lit up in and instant; you knew that body wash anywhere.

In walked Jenna, beautiful as always. Her hair was tied down into its usual braids and she was in her nevermore uniform for filming. A smile graced her lips when she saw you, and she made a bee-line for the open seat next to you.

“Hey.” She said, sitting in the chair.

“What’s up otter?” You shot back, grinning mischievously.

When you first met Jenna, your co-worker thought her last name was pronounced ‘Aw-Tega.’ Ever since, you have called her otter as a nickname.

“Nothing much, just relaxing.” She replied, resting her head in her hand as she stared at you in a daze.

“Sounds awesome. I wish I could relax.” You said, rolling your shoulders in an uncomfortable manner.

“Want me to help?”

You looked up at Jenna in surprise, seeing that she was referring to your tense state.

“Uh…sure? If you want to.” You replied, setting your notes down on the table as she got up to stand behind you.

Her hands made contact with your skin, making goosebumps rise as she slowly massaged your muscles. The way her fingers would gently caress your shoulder blades made her feel, uncontrollably giddy.

A groan escaped your mouth when her thumbs rubbed a particularly tender spot on the nape of your neck, and you closed your eyes in pure bliss. Jenna was thanking whatever power was above her for letting her be in this position, and for not allowing you to see her face; she was as red as a tomato.

A sensation of bravery took over her, and before she new it she was pressing her lips to the back of your neck. Her nose brushed your undercut and she lightly inhaled your shampoo. You smelled sweet, a mixture of coffee and chocolate with a sprinkle of cinnamon.

The feeling of her kissing your skin made your eyes fly open in shock and you whipped your chair around to face her. She shot back slightly, a face of uncertainty and nervousness.

“Did you just…kiss me?” You asked slowly.

“I…uhm…” Jenna gulped, loosing the ability to speak as you stood up carefully, “N-no…i mean…uhh..”

“Jenna..” You warned, stepping into her personal space as she backed into the tent wall.

“I’m sorry…it was impulsive…” She grimaced, closing her eyes in preparation for your outburst…

…that never came?

No, instead she was met with your lips on hers, your hands on her neck while you pushed your body flush against her. She felt your tongue slid into her mouth, intertwining with her own as her hands slid down to grasp your hips.

The break-away was too soon for her liking. She was just starting to relax and enjoy you when you decided to pull back. Either in an effort to keep you close, or just because Jenna was desperate, she chased your lips before you put a finger in between.

“Woah there tiger, slow down.” You chuckled, smiling when Jenna whined sadly.

“Don’t worry,” You purred, leaning in to brush your nose against hers while you wiggled your butt in a teasing way, “You have many more opportunities to taste me..”

——————

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[storiesforallfandoms]

the ice cream girl ~ mike schmidt;five nights at freddy's

word count: 2144

request?: no

description: in which his regular ice cream spot in the mall hires a new girl

pairing: mike schmidt x female!reader

warnings: use of y/n

masterlist (one, two, three)

Mike's routine at the mall was a constant: clock in, do two laps around the mall, go for lunch with whoever else was on with him - usually Jeremiah - another few laps around the mall where he'd stop to talk to some of the store managers, then clock out and go home. The only deviations to his routine were the occasional birthday parties he'd be tasked with watching over, and whenever there was someone who needed to be handled by security.

Until he met a new worker at the mall.

He was in line for the ice cream place he would occasionally go to for a dessert after his lunch. They saw him so frequently that his order was usually ready before he even got to the counter - another usual in his routine.

But on this day, when he walked up to the counter, a new face was smiling at him.

"Welcome to Ice Cream Parties," she said. "What can I get for you?"

Mike opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by Cindy, one of the usual workers, saying, "We have his order, (Y/N). He's a regular."

(Y/N)'s eyes flickered to Mike's security uniform. "Well, that does make sense. Sorry, today's my first day."

"No, that's alright," Mike said. He desperately tried to think of something else to say, but found himself staring blankly at her instead. He was sure she thought he was crazy, and that thought made his face start to heat up.

Cindy came up to the counter with Mike's usual in hand. She passed it over to him with a smile before going back to work. Mike realized then that he hadn't paid yet. As he started taking his wallet from his pocket, (Y/N) said, "On the house."

"Are you sure?" Mike asked.

She nodded. "Consider it a kind gesture for a regular."

"Well...thanks."

"No problem. It's nice to meet you, Mike."

He was about to ask how she knew his name, but she nodded to his name tag before he could.

Right, that would make sense.

"Nice to meet you, too, (Y/N)."

After that, visits to Ice Cream Parties became part of Mike's routine. The first few visits were under the guise of actually getting ice cream for himself and Jeremiah. If it wasn't too busy, he was able to have brief conversations with (Y/N) while his order was being made. That excuse didn't last very long, though, as eventually Jeremiah put an end to the almost daily ice cream runs.

"Man, I'm going to gain like 10 pounds a week if you keep getting ice cream for us," he had said.

Mike had to admit, he was getting sick of eating ice cream so much, too. Seeing (Y/N) so often had made it worth it at first, but there was only so much of the frozen treat he could take before it became too much. He thought he'd have to come up with a new excuse to see her all the time, but she took him by surprise by doing it for him.

He was doing his rounds during a shift when he saw (Y/N) walking towards him. She had a smile on her face and she waved when he spotted her.

"Hey!" she said. "I've been looking for you?"

"You have?" Mike asked.

"Yeah! I haven't seen you in a bit. I was worried you quit or something."

"God, no, that's not happening. This is probably the easiest job I could have. I've just...been taking a break from ice cream."

"I don't blame you. You've had so much of it lately, I'm surprised you're not just a walking ice cream cone at this point." She playfully bumped his shoulder as she added, "You know, if you wanted to talk to me, you didn't need an excuse."

Mike was shocked into silence. Had it really been that obvious? He had tried to play it cool when he went, but maybe he hadn't been cool enough. Maybe it had been glaringly obvious every time he walked up to the counter and ordered whatever new flavor she recommended that he was desperately trying to figure out a way to ask her on a date.

But then she smiled and laughed, and Mike felt a weight being lifted from his chest.

"I'm joking," she said. "Mostly. If you wanna talk to me, you don't need to come buy ice cream. Just come talk to me."

"Noted," Mike said with a nod. "Well...what are you doing this evening?"

"I'm working the closing shift."

Mike tried not to let his disappointment show. "Oh. I, uh, I'm off in about an hour."

"I clock in in about an hour."

"Not meant to be, I guess."

(Y/N) shrugged. "I guess not. I have to run a quick errand before work, but I mean what I said - don't be a stranger, Mike."

Mike nodded. Once (Y/N) had turned and walked away, he let himself deflate. It wasn't a "no" because she wasn't interested, but it was still disheartening. It was definitely going to take time to build up his courage to ask her again, but at least now he knew she welcomed his company.

A week or so later, Mike found himself at the mall again on his day off. He usually hated to be there when he wasn't working, but Abby started school the next week and she needed new clothes. She had been begging him for weeks to take her shopping, but he kept putting it off until he had no choice but to take her. On the plus side, Abby was extremely easy to shop with because she knew what she wanted, and she knew where to get it. It would be a quick in and out and he could be away from the mall within an hour and a half tops.

But, after leaving Abby's favorite store with the intent on going home, Abby stopped Mike and said, "I'm hungry."

"We have food at home," he reminded her.

"I don't want actual food. I want a snack."

"We have snacks at home."

"We don't have ice cream at home."

That was enough to shut him up and get him to agree. He had no idea if (Y/N) was working that day, but he wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to see her.

As luck would have it, she was working. She was at the counter in her stripped apron and white paper hat. She was passing the customer in front of them an ice cream, her customer service smile plastered on her face. Mike had come to learn the difference between her customer service smile and her real smile, because when she would look at him the dull smile would brighten just a little.

When the customer stepped away, he got to see her face light up at the sight of him.

"Oh, hey Mike!" she said. "I thought you were off today."

"I am. I had to take my sister back to school shopping," Mike said, gesturing to Abby.

(Y/N) looked down at Abby and offered her a warm smile. "Well hey there. I had no idea Mike had a sister."

"This is Abby. Abby, this is (Y/N)."

"It's nice to meet you, Abby."

"You too," Abby said. To Mike she added, "Is she the one you always talk to Max about?"

Mike's ears were on fire as (Y/N) looked back up at him. Abby always knew how to say the right things to embarrass him.

"Just tell her what you want," he muttered, suddenly no longer in the mood for ice cream.

Abby ordered for herself and (Y/N) went to make it. Cindy took over at the cash while (Y/N) stepped away, which disappointed Mike. Usually Cindy was the one making the orders while (Y/N) was at the cash, and they'd have their small conversations while Mike waited. He really hoped what Abby had said hadn't scared (Y/N) off completely.

She came back and handed Abby her ice cream.

"Are you guys sticking around much longer?" she asked Mike.

"We weren't really planning on it. Abby just wanted ice cream before we went home."

"I'm off in, like, 10 minutes. If you guys don't mind a third, I mean."

Mike agreed without consulting Abby. Not like the younger girl really cared either way. She was already deep into her ice cream and ignoring the whole conversation.

Mike and Abby sat at a nearby table to wait for (Y/N). Abby finished her ice cream in record time, giving herself a brain freeze. Mike couldn't help but laugh as his sister scrunched up her face in pain.

"That's why you don't eat cold foods that fast," he said.

"Do you like (Y/N)?" Abby asked through the brain freeze pain.

The quick change in topic startled Mike. "I mean...yeah. She's my friend."

"But you like her," Abby said. "You always talk about her, and I saw the way you look at her."

Mike shrugged, trying not to give Abby any other ideas. He didn't need her blurting something else out and embarrassing him again. "She's a friend, Abby. Friends talk about friends."

"Friends don't look at other friends like they want to kiss them, though."

Mike chuckled. "Some do."

Abby gave him a look. He sighed and said, "Maybe I do, but that doesn't give you permission to say stuff to her about it, okay? For now, we're just friends."

"You should ask her out. I think she'd say yes."

"It's not that easy, Abs."

"What's not that easy?"

Mike jumped at the sound of (Y/N)'s voice behind him. When he looked at her, she was already changed out of her work uniform. "Nothing. Abby and I were just talking."

He shot Abby a look to tell her not to say anything. (Y/N) looked between the two of them with a skeptical look on her face.

"Do you have a ride home?" Mike asked.

"If you're offering, then yes. I was supposed to wait around for my roommate to get me, but I'd much rather hang out with you guys and get out of here."

The three of them walked to Mike's car. Abby filled most of the silence by talking to (Y/N) about whatever came to her little mind. (Y/N) just smiled and responded as Abby spoke. Mike would sneak glances at her and smile to himself.

Abby got into the car first, and as Mike was reaching for the door handle to get in himself, (Y/N) said, "Wait."

He paused and looked up at her, confused.

"Why haven't you asked me out yet, Mike?"

The question took him completely by surprise, but that seemed to be her specialty at this point. He opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was some stuttered nonsense.

"I mean, if you don't like me then that's fine, I get it," she continued. "But I thought that maybe we had a connection, and I keep thinking you're going to ask me out and then you don't, and I'll be honest, I'm losing my mind a little bit."

"Whoa, whoa," Mike said. "Slow down. I'm sorry that's how you're feeling, but I've been trying to ask you out. I did ask you out a few weeks ago!"

"That wasn't asking me out! You asked what I was doing and I said working. You didn't even follow up to try and figure out a different day we could've went out instead!"

"I didn't know I was supposed to do that!"

They both paused and, after a moment, they started to laugh.

"I'm clueless with this stuff," Mike admitted. "I haven't dated since high school."

"Well, here's a tip: if you like a girl, ask her out. Her liking you back is more likely than you'd think."

Mike smiled. "Do you want to come over for dinner? I'm sure it's not exactly the date you're thinking of, but Abby wants spaghetti and meatballs tonight, and I do make a mean spaghetti and meatballs."

(Y/N) smiled back. It was brighter than her real smile. It was what Mike decided to dub her "Mike smile".

"I'd love to," she said. "I love spaghetti and meatballs."

Abby opened her car door then and looked between the two of them. "What's taking you so long?"

"Hey Abs, would it be okay if (Y/N) joined us for dinner?" Mike asked, although he already knew the answer.

Abby lit up with excitement and vigorously nodded her head. Mike and (Y/N) finally got into the car and they made their way back to Mike's place. The entire car ride he couldn't wipe the smile from his face.

[the-cimmerians]

a storytime story. Not my story, it's my friend's, but she doesn't go here so I'm sharing for her. We'll call her Mara. Mara is a high-femme, lovely queer girl from a wealthy family in the southern US, but when I met her she'd been living in California for many years, chugging through her postgraduate education in Women's Studies. She rarely went home, because being at home was always a bit of a fraught experience: not unendurable (because to most heteronormative casual viewers the radiant queerness of a high-femme is pretty much indistinguishable from a quirky beauty queen waiting for the right football quarterback to sweep her off her feet), but still--not the most fun. Yet every once in a while, Mara would have a fit of 'dutiful daughter'-itis, and go home to mend some fences and keep some peace.

Mara's mother had often asked her to come with her to philanthropic events, but Mara had always said no. On this trip, however, Mara's mother had purchased a full table as an event sponsor, and she cajoled Mara into going with her. For those of you who haven't ever attended such an event, they are all different, and yet terrifyingly all the same (and I say this not as an attendee, but as an event-runner for various nonprofits; an event-runner who, fair warning, hates everything about these events, and this part of nonprofit work). There is some form of lower-calorie food (chicken or fish on greens with a very light citrus-fruit dressing is de rigeur, along with some sort of fruit-based airy parfait served in the smallest and most elegant glasses imaginable for dessert), usually an emcee (occasionally entertaining, but always inoffensive to the assembled guests), sometimes speakers (high-profile or famous women on a local or national level depending on the 'get' of the organization in question, or extremely well-spoken young people or teens for youth-serving organizations--with the youth in question being very carefully coached), and an 'ask'--the fundraising portion of the event, where the wealthy attendees compete with the rest of their friends and enemies in the social scene to be the most gracious and beneficent person in the room.

And there is gossip. So much gossip.

Poor Mara knew enough to expect some of this (mostly due to listening to me complain bitterly about how awful these events are), but there were aspects for which she was completely unprepared. Her mother had filled her sponsorship table with all of her closest friends, and the 'social hour' before the event started in earnest was a haze of white wine and a constant stream of excessively perfumed women dressed in full southern socialite chic, coming by the table to air-kiss cheeks and say how it's been ages since they've seen each other and what a darling ensemble, where on earth did you get it? and who does your hair now?--you must tell me, it's simply scrumptious--you look incredible, we really must do lunch some time soon--

...and the moment the woman or women in question moved on, the table, as a whole, in excited, urgent-whispered voices, would drag the everloving fuck out of every single lady they'd just been gushing over.

"Did you see how botched her last lift was? I hardly recognized her--I'm surprised she recognized me, with her eyes yanked back like that--" "so terrible, but she did go to the cheapest surgeon in town--husband has money troubles, you know--"

"Didn't expect to see her here, but I suppose you have to go somewhere to show off that large a collection of paste jewels--" "oh, stop, you wicked girl! But you're right, of course--and she gives herself such airs, like we don't all know--"

"Poor dear looks exhausted--apparently keeping up with her pool boy isn't easy at her age--" "Can't say that I blame her; that Carlos, have you seen him? Of course, she's hardly his only client. I've been dying for a pool, but my Henry just won't--"

"Quite a plucky little attitude for someone whose husband just left her for his twenty-two year old secretary--" "And after she put him through college and law school--I heard she's not even going to get to keep the house. She really should have sprung for a better lawyer--"

"I can't believe she still thinks she can fit into that dress, with all the weight she's packed on--" "Truly grotesque--just ghastly! Seems like last summer at the fat farm didn't do her as much good as one would have hoped--"

::giggle:: ::giggle:: ::giggle::

Mara was horrified, sitting there with a bland, polite smile frozen on her face, with her white gloves and vintage pillbox hat and charming little clutch bag, her seamed stockings and her kitten heels and her classic red lipstick and pin-curls (because in true unquenchable femme spirit, she had taken this occasion as an opportunity for dress-up, an opportunity for fun and play and sexy whimsy--a Gene-Tierney-does-pin-up-girl kind of vibe), utterly unable to see how to extricate herself from this terrible situation.

Another woman glided away from the table, coyly waving heavily-beringed fingers. "Yes, Darling," Mara's mother said, coyly waving back. "See you soon! Kiss-kiss! Love to Laurent!" She sat down and hissed to the cabal at the table: "Ha! Her husband just gave her an STD."

The woman to Mara's left leaned forward excitedly. "Really? Two-door or four-door?--wait, if it was the latest Aston Martin, I'm going to literally perish of envy--"

And that was the tipping point--Mara fled. Walked until she found a suitably divey coffee shop. Had a coffee and a slice of peach pie, and flirted with a soft Butch waitress until the world seemed less dire.