#if you don't count cursed child as canon

[linnasmile]

Starry eyed child left behind

~Look, I posted this two years ago on AO3, enjoy it here~

Harry blinked into the light on the fifth day after the battle of Hogwarts. Used to waking up next to Hermione by now, he was momentarily alarmed when she wasn’t there. Her sleeping bag was already neatly packed in the corner.

Harry looked at his watch and judged he had got a good three hours of uninterrupted rest, by a stretch a record for the last five nights. He made up his mind to appeal to Madam Pomfrey for a vial of dreamless sleep potion. Perhaps a cauldron. He remembered the first and only time he had drunk the purplish solution-on the night Cedric died, only after he was made to recall the events in painful detail. The memory made him uneasy, and he lay there for a few more moments before dressing and heading into the halls of the now deserted castle. All the bodies had been carried out and the families had gone home. Harry didn’t know how wizards mourned the dead. It seemed an inappropriate curiosity, and so he kept it to himself. He thought at some point he should ask Ginny.  

It was him and Hermione who lingered in the castle in ruins, among the teachers who lived there. The two of them had been preparing to head to Australia to find Hermione’s parents. Taking a portkey to a different country was tricky business, as it had turned out, and so they waited patiently while McGonagall organized their trip. It was probably where Hermione was now- in McGonagall’s office, smoothing out details. It made him anxious not to know for sure. Harry knew she couldn’t be in danger, but worried whenever they became separated; he had suddenly disliked being alone. Ron had gone home with his family, rightfully so. Some part of Harry felt abandoned, but he did not let himself explore it further. He kept the wretched emotion buried, because he knew how much the Weasleys had suffered only by associating themselves with him. He had brought upon them the death of their son, had inflicted so much misery to them, that they deserved to grieve far away from him.

Harry walked past a toppled statue of an old warlock, half-destroyed by dark magic. He knew that even such carnage would give in to manual labour and so even though he had his wand, he raised it with his bare hands. He had fallen in love with magic when he had first been introduced to it, but now had to finally deal with the reality that this wonderful tool could be misused and turned into a weapon. Not even a week ago he himself had tortured someone. His anger had blinded him when Amycus had spat on McGonagall. The Professor was right, it was foolish of him. Unforgivable curses, Harry thought, are only called that because no person with a shred of kindness in their heart could forgive themselves after performing them. He should have instead disarmed the death eater and beaten him bloody. He felt ashamed.

Harry was halfway through breakfast when a tawny owl swooped in and landed gracefully in front of him. It lifted its leg obediently and afterwards nudged Harry’s hand, who stroked her in appreciation and handed her a piece of his toast. He had been getting countless letters, but this one carried the Ministry’s official stamp. It was from Kingsley, who had become provisional Minister of Magic:

Dear Harry,

I hope you are keeping well.

I wanted to reach out while you were still at Hogwarts, as I was not sure of your plans for the summer. Forgive me if my letter burdens you.

I am relieved that this war, which we fought together, is now over. You have fulfilled the prophecy of your life in a spectacular way, and I am thankful we landed on the right side of history. My hope is that we shall side by side rebuild our world. There will be a place for you in the Ministry’s Auror office, should you wish to pursue this line of work, one I feel you are destined for.

So many of the actions the Order has undertaken have been of a clandestine nature, even more so in the last year. We have made impossible decisions along the way, all of them towards the bigger goal; we have fought private battles behind a veil of secrecy. If there is any prize to be claimed, then I believe this to be the categorical recognition of our efforts, and in particular- the acknowledgement of your personal sacrifice. I see but one way to achieve this- we must tell the whole truth. Too many times in the past we were made to conceal our actions and motivations.

It does not escape me that the Ministry itself has continuously undermined our cause and has tried to discredit us. I agreed to head this institution for the better of all of us. I plan to stand for the truth and nothing less. Nothing shall be concealed or misconstrued. The Daily Prophetwill be left to its own and decommissioned as a propaganda machine. Currently, there are too many rumours tainting our reputation, or otherwise idolizing us for what we are not. I envision a transparent Ministry of Magic, and so it is the past which should be addressed first. We must admit to our faults and ask forgiveness for our mistakes, while at the same time tell the stories of our fallen brothers and sisters, to whom we are indebted for life. We must rise once again despite our pain, or perhaps with it, to pay tribute.

There is a big part of this story, Harry, which belongs to you. You dealt the final blow, but not only that- you made it possible. You gave us a reason to believe there was something to fight for, that it was not just aimless resistance. You shouldered the burden for all of us, as a boy. No single man deserves to experience what you have gone through. Older and much wiser wizards would have folded. We were all ready to die for the cause, but you were the only one whose death seemed a certainty. And yet, with the absolute knowledge you were about to meet your maker, you faced the unimaginable with a bravery thus far unmatched.

Lastly, please allow me a few words on Albus Dumbledore. He loved you and it pained him to know what other wizards only speculated about- that you were the chosen one. He confided in us his desire to keep you away from the spotlight, for the same reason he let you grow up away from our world. He wanted to give you as much of a normal life as you could have had. Despite this, I believe strongly, and I would not be writing this letter otherwise, that the Wizarding world needs your voice. Our new reality is mere days young. It is responsive to influence, and it is impossible to overstate how important it is that your truth is put out there as one of its first building blocks.

In the coming week I will be addressing our nation. I ask of you a great favour, conscious that it requires you to trust me as Minister of Magic: please join me in my effort to give hope and light to our kind.

I look forward to your owl.

Yours,

Kingsley

Harry reread the letter before folding it away. When stripped from Kingsley’s friendly tone, this was a summons. Harry understood what Kingsley wanted him to do, but he was sure the Minister himself did not fully grasp its magnitude. Dumbledore had deliberately kept the Order ill-informed, and Harry had followed suit. How was he to tell an entire people why he had willingly walked to his execution? He had emerged from the pensive, Snape’s memories had still risen in silvery streaks, when Harry finally saw his journey up until that moment clearly. Before that, his path was winding through a thick fog, concealed even from him. It was Harry’s narrative, but it was also Dumbledore’s, and Snape’s, and Voldemort’s.

Harry tensed at these thoughts. Voldemort was finished, but death eaters and otherwise bad people lived on. To show them how it is possible to cheat death, to give them this information, this weapon… would be foolish. A person must be divorced from ordinary human emotions to successfully create a horcrux, but Harry had lost his trust in the wide wizarding public; the war had turned him cynical. More lies would have to be told, more omissions made, all for the greater good.

All of this was giving Harry a feeling of bitterness towards Dumbledore, who had abandoned him in this mess. He could not bear to face his former Headmaster’s portrait, and yet needed his guidance. He’d been struggling with so many emotions and could not make out which of them were justified, all of them manifested as real physical pains. He still had an incessant worry in his gut, one which made more sense when Voldemort was still alive, but was now more or less unfounded.

Still flustered, Harry headed to the hospital wing, hoping to run into Hermione on the way. She would know better how to ask for the potion without having to disclose too much of what exactly had been keeping him awake. Each horror dream had felt like a stab in his side, one which bleeds, bleeds…

Before he knew it, he was sitting in Madam Pomfrey’s little office, fiddling his thumbs.

“What is it I can do for you, Mr Potter?”

“I was wondering if… well, if I could have some dreamless sleep for tonight?”

Madam Pomfrey was staying silent, but he did not offer anything further.

“Mr Potter, this is quite a strong and addictive potion and while I understand you are going through a tough time, I do not usually hand it out to students. You would have to clear it with your Head of House.”

Although Harry had expected a response of that sort, he had not prepared an argument. And now that was that. He was dismissed. He wanted to scream. He knew he had no chance with McGonagall, but in desperation he needed to try. Rather than marching straight into her office however, he headed back to the Gryffindor common room, hoping to formulate a response to Kingsley.

His piece of parchment remained empty for several hours while Harry contemplated the Scottish spring rain beating on the common room windows. For once, he wished Hogwarts wasn’t in the Highlands and missed the humid May months of southern England. Even so, there was not much to do with no one around. The image of Ginny with her head in his lap popped behind Harry’s closed eyelids and he sighed. Misery had engulfed him today and had shifted his focus only on what he no longer had. It was a punishment bestowed on him (by whom?) to think of Ginny, of Hedwig, of Lupin and Tonks, and of all the ways he would never again be the boy from five days ago.

Hermione had walked into the common room and was sitting on the couch next to him. He took her hand and blinked away some tears. She let it happen without comment. The Hermione from five days ago would have endlessly fussed over him she had found him in this disordered state. Now, she picked up Kingsley’s letter and read in silence.

“Kingsley doesn’t know,” she said finally.

Harry nodded.

“We should tell him,” Hermione continued.

“Absolutely not, Hermione. There’s a reason Dumbledore didn’t.”

“I was thinking that maybe he was wrong not to do so.”

 Harry knew she had a point, as he had contemplated the same himself. It still felt like betraying Dumbledore’s memory, as though everything must revolve around the great man even after his death.

As if reading his mind, Hermione continued:

“This is a new world, Harry. When all of this started, it was different for Dumbledore. He didn’t know who he could trust, so he didn’t trust anybody. You must admit it might have been easier finding the horcruxes if we had help. If we had only had one other person to bounce ideas from, someone who…”

“Someone who wasn’t a child,” Harry finished the statement.

“Yes.”

Voldemort had marked Harry, and Dumbledore had used him. The Headmaster, his only mentor, had charted his path only to the Forbidden forest, had accompanied him every step, even in Purgatory. He had provided Harry with no tools to live life outside of his identity as The Chosen One. Harry was just a boy. He had no exceptional magical abilities, nothing in terms of outstanding bravery or cleverness. He was not raised in the magical world; he was not raised at all. He was an orphan boy, only occasionally fed by his aunt and uncle who despised him. He was unable to see how Kinglsey would help the witches and wizards of Britain. He could not imagine a safe and quiet existence. He could not dream of Ginny without also dreaming of her being torn away from him, torn to pieces, left to die. Dread, dread, and more dread gnawed at him. His life had been so entwined with Voldemort’s, that now the Dark Lord was gone, Harry’s world had slowly started to fall apart.

A nightmare had startled him into consciousness the night before and just so he could keep himself awake, to be away from it, he had forced his tired eyes open and stared into the fire. Harry had tried to conjure a fantasy of a normal life. The best he could do had been to imagine living in a small apartment in Godric’s Hollow. He would be able to walk to his parents’ grave every day and sit there for hours, not speaking, not thinking, just feeling. He had imagined building some relationship with them and with the place where they had lived as a family for such a short period, such a long time ago, that hardly anyone remembered it. He had not wanted to let go of the memory of Lily and James as they had walked beside him in the Forbidden forest moments before his death. They had spoken to him and comforted him and even in their ghostly form Harry had loved them. The allure of the resurrection stone had not been lost on him and he was glad he had misplaced it. His heart was still drawing him to Godrick’s Hollow, which was silly, and predictable, and maybe also slightly dangerous. His mind had pulled the other way. Death eaters still existed; it was not out of the question some of them might go after him now that their master was done with. The lovely image of the quiet village had been replaced by one of bad people doing bad things to him and everyone he knew, again. Too tired to fight it, Harry had let it happen. The misery had flooded him again and he had passed out.

In the Common room now with Hermione, Harry felt no less panicked.

We must all face the choice between what is right and what is easy.

It would be easy to run away from England and the responsibilities which came with becoming the saviour of the world. But should he stay and lie through his teeth? He didn’t feel like doing that. He also did not want to participate in this anymore, whatever this may be. It probably made him a coward, but so be it. For once, he would take care of himself first. This omnipresent hurt would not permit him anything else.

He explained this to Hermione and told her about the Dreamless sleep as well. She expressed concern over him taking the potion.

“I had this dream that Voldemort was back, but in the body of a snake. There are no longer horcruxes but this time he really is immortal. Me and you and Ron are hiding in a building, he’s closing in on us. Suddenly his army of inferi attack us. At the front of the pack are Lupin and Fred. They’re dead and he’s controlling them and they’re trying to kill us. I know I should shoot a spell at them, but my body is frozen, there’s no way I’m hurting these people again. So, I lower my wand and hear his laugh in my head. Just as they’re about to attack us, I wake up.

“I don’t want these images in my head. Just for a little while, if I could, I want them gone. If I have to face inferi Lupin for one more night…”

The thought didn’t need finishing. Hermione seemingly got the point, because she looked shock, and said nothing. She then got up abruptly, but with no haste, his hand still in hers. He understood they were going to McGonagall’s office.

The professor frowned slightly when they walked in. More trouble, she probably thought, when will it ever end? Harry didn’t know.

“What is it, Potter?” asked Professor McGonagall straight away; she had never been keen on formalities.

First, Harry handed her Kingsley’s letter and sat in silence while McGonagall read. Despite the fear of being vulnerable, he needed hers,someone’s opinion.

“You have no duty anymore, Potter. You have done your part.”

This is all she said and then handed him back the parchment. Her eyes seemed to have softened. He understood her point, succinctly though she may have put it, and thanked her.

“There’s one more thing I need to ask you for,” he said hurriedly. She listened.

“I was…” Harry was suddenly self -conscious. “I’ve not been able to sleep at all since… since it all happened. I asked Madam Pomfrey today, but she said I needed your permission for… for some dreamless sleep potion.”

McGonagall sighed.

“You must discover how to deal with your emotions and trauma, Potter. Otherwise, you will be but half a man. Nevertheless, if there was ever a person who needed a bit of help, if there was ever such a trying time for anyone else…” she got up from her desk and walked to Harry’s armchair. In an unprecedented show of affection, she put her hand on Harry’s shoulder, like Sirius had done that night after the Triwizard tournament in Dumbledore’s office. “I will let Madam Pomfrey know she may give you the potion. Anything else would be cruelty I would not like to inflict upon you.”

Harry was crying in earnest, overcome by a slew of conflicting emotions. It felt comforting to have McGonagall and Hermione by his side, yet it made him realize how much he was missing in his life. This closeness was sporadic, and he had no one, no one who would reliably be next to him in this way. He would leave this castle and his past life, and all the gold in his parents’ vault would not buy him a companion, or a mentor.

He was grateful the two women let him compose himself before he got up and walked out of McGonagall’s office, a small note for Madam Pomfrey in hand. The rain had stopped.

Harry wrote Kingsley a short but polite note before he had lost his nerve.

Dear Kingsley,

I understand what you want me to do, but I can’t. The time has come when I need to take care of myself, if only for a little bit. You probably know I will be going away with Hermione very soon, but I’ll be back before long. You say the Aurors can use me and it’s true that for a while that is where I also wanted to be. I’m not sure how to say this, but I’m done with battling evil, at least for now.

I hope you understand.

Harry

He handed the note to an eagle owl, which set out on its way immediately. He looked at the spot Hedwig used to occupy in the owlery, and his heart sank for the umpteenth time today. He knew his letter to Kingsley wasn’t good, but it got the main message across. Kingsley had praised him in his own letter to Harry and suggested the boy was many great things. Ender of wars. Bringer of peace. Marked as equal by the Dark Lord.

In the end, Harry would step out of this castle in a few days probably for the last time in his life. The only place he had truly been able to call home would be left behind. He would depart from this identity thrust upon him by others. He would probably become a trained auror. He might even be a decent one. He would return as a protector, some day.

Right now, though, he was not qualified for any of it. He wasn’t ready. He was Harry.

Just… Harry.

[queers-gambit]

Not So Heavenly Surprise

prompt: you share exciting news with your husband but don't receive the reaction you thought you'd get. and then, the Outbreak.

pairing: Joel Miller x female!wife!reader only height mentioned: you're shorter than Joel

fandom masterlist: HBO's The Last of Us

word count: 7.2k+

warnings: angst, angst, angst, slutty angst club, cursing, character death, major major major spoilers, death of a child, descriptive language - we talk about death and dead bodies!!! canon-level violence! NOT edited!!! (will get around to it) this work is super NOT FOR MINORS ❗️season one, episode one spoilers

September 02nd, 2002 one year before Outbreak Day

"You're going to have to tell him," you sighed to your reflection, trying to amp up the bravery. "He's gonna notice, you don't want him questioning anything, now do you? No, nope, no way, you don't. Okay, so, that's it - you're gonna tell him when he gets home. No big deal."

There was a knock at the door, Sarah calling, "Are you okay in there?"

"Girl!" You laughed, reaching for the knob and opening it to see her. "Ever heard of this thing called 'privacy'?"

"Not in this house," She smirked. "Can I get in? Wash my face?"

"Oh, yeah, totally," you moved out of her way, continuing with your nightly routine.

"So, who were you talking to?"

"Myself," you mused. "It helps me work out big decisions."

"Oh, so, you're finally gonna tell Dad you're pregnant?"

"What!?" You yelped, dropping the jar of night cream and groaning when it dolloped out from the fall - landing on your foot. "What the hell, Sarah?"

"What? You're surprised I figured it out?" She teased. "I found the pregnancy test."

"What? You were digging in the trash?"

"Well, if you must know, I dropped the toothpaste in there and found it when I was fishing it out..."

"Sarah," you sighed.

"You know he's going to be really happy, right?" She smiled at you, massaging her cheeks to curate foam from her face wash.

"Maybe," you sighed, stooping to clean your mess. "But I've been trying to figure out what to say."

"What's to say? Just tell him," she giggled. "C'mon, you guys have been married 8 years now! Isn't this, like, what was supposed to happen?"

"Well, yeah, but - "

"But nothing," Sarah laughed. "You're getting all nervous for nothing. It's just Dad, he loves you. He's going to be happy, I promise."

You sighed, nodding slowly, "All right, well, I'll try to tell him tonight."

"There is no try, only do."

"You did not just quote Star Wars to me!"

"Well, is Yoda wrong?"

You whined a little, "No..."

"So, get it done," she smiled. "This is really exciting."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she smiled, "I've always wanted to be a big sister."

"You'd kick ass as one," you agreed.

"Think how upset and flustered Dad will be when I teach Baby to curse!"

"Sarah, you teach the kid any curse words and I'll wash your own mouth with soap," you teasingly warned with a pointed finger. "I'm a little nervous, I think," you admitted.

"Why? Daddy loves you, he'll be really happy," Sarah defended. "Maybe a little shocked, but he'll be over the moon with joy."

"You think?"

"I know," she nodded. "Tell him tonight!"

"Tell who, what?" Tommy asked, appearing in the doorway to make you both shriek.

"What happened!?" You heard Joel, but then, everything was drowned out as you and Sarah started yelling at Tommy for scaring the shit outta you both. Joel appeared in time to see his little brother throw his hands up in defense, laughing at the two of you.

"Not cool, man!" You barked, shaking your head. "Didn't hear y'all come in, the hell's wrong wit'chu?"

"Y'all didn't lock the front door, again," Tommy smirked. "I came up real quick and quiet."

"Jackass," you muttered, wiping your hands on a towel before exiting the room. "Hi, baby," you muttered to Joel, pausing to rock onto your toes and plant a kiss to your husband's lips.

"Hi, honey," he mused, arm anchoring your waist. "What's with the screamin'?"

"Your brother's an ass," you pouted, giving your best exaggerated bottom lip.

"You had it comin', darlin'," Tommy teased. "Told you to lock up, huh?"

"Why're you even here? Why are you always! Here!?" You whined lightly. "Go home!"

"I'm staying the night," he mocked gently.

"You better not clean my fridge out," you warned him with slitted eyes. "I just went to the shop."

"You get them cookies you like?" Tommy perked a brother, watching your eyes widen a small fraction. "YOU DID!" Tommy laughed, turning, and bolting down the stairs - making you yelp and start yelling after him, following closely.

Joel and Sarah could be heard laughing from upstairs.

It was close to midnight by the time you and Joel finally settled for bed. Sarah's homework was done, whole family fed, Tommy was nursing a bonked head with a small ice pack, and you and Joel were turning your bed down.

"Hey, uh," you cleared your throat as you both got in the sheets, "so, I was wonderin' somethin'."

"What's that, sugar?"

"What do you think of when you consider the future?"

Joel paused, then shrugged, "We go to Nashville with Sarah this summer."

"No, baby, I mean the future - like, years from now."

Joel chuckled, "Uh, I don't know, baby, I just think of you and Sarah and Tommy... There's not many others left 'round."

"That's all?"

"I don't know, I think sometimes when Sarah goes off to college, that girl's goin' on a scholarship, you know? So, you and I could maybe take some time for a vacation. Finally take you on that honeymoon I promised."

You hummed, settling against his chest, "Where we goin'?"

"You know I'd take you wherever you wanted," he sighed, "but maybe we could afford... I don't know, trip to... Vegas?"

"So we can renew our vows with Elvis?"

"Why not?" He chuckled, squeezing your hip. "Might be fun, right?"

"You just wanna see the strippers."

"Can you blame me?"

You laughed and smacked his chest, "Easy, mister, you're on thin ice."

Joel laughed lightly, "You know I'm teasin', darlin'. C'mon, anywhere we could, where would you go?"

"Oh, the Maldives, without a doubt.," You smirked. "But how about we keep it simple? Go to, say, Paris?"

Joel snickered, "That's simple?"

"City of Love for our honeymoon? Baby, I'd say that's more cliché than anything. Besides, don't you wanna kiss me at the top of the Eiffel Tower?"

"'Course, sugar, but the food there?"

"Oh, like you've ever been!" You laughed, looking up at him. "Don't talk shit when you don't know."

"Hmm," he considered, "solid advice, sweetheart."

He reached out to caress the side of your cheek, making you sigh, "One thing's missin' though..."

"What's that?" Joel smirked.

"We'd have to find a babysitter."

"Sarah will be older than - "

"No, no, baby, not talkin' 'bout Sarah."

"Who, then?" He chuckled. "Tommy? Though he likes proving us wrong, he can take care of himself."

"No, I'm talking about a babysitter for us."

"Lost me again, sweetheart."

You stared at him for a moment, then admitted, "I'm pregnant. So, we'd need to find a sitter 'cause we'd have a little one by then." However, Joel just stared down at you, brows slowly furrowing as he processed your words. "Joel?" You wondered when he didn't answer, but instead, looked off past you. "Honey, you still with me?"

"I heard you," he grit, making you instantly sit up and off of him.

"Joel?"

He sighed deeply, "Why'd you have to do that?"

"I'm sorry?"

Joel sat up and swung his legs from bed, making you feel instantly smaller than you actually were. "Why'd you have to go and do that? Huh? Get pregnant?"

"Joel - "

"No, what the hell's this!?" He demanded, looking far too upset than you ever considered. "You're pregnant? You're really pregnant?"

"Yes - "

"God fuckin' damn it!" Joel swatted at a lamp, knocking it over, and waking the entire house - not that either Tommy or Sarah were asleep yet. "You can't seriously be pregnant!" Joel barked at you, and if he could, you knew he'd be gnashing his teeth.

"Why is this such a shock?" You asked. "This is what happens when you're married - "

"You were supposed to be on birth control!"

"It's only so much effective when you're cumming in me like some sex doll!" You snapped back, aware of your loudness.

"Don't turn this on me!"

"I'm not! Fuck's sake, I'm happy about this!" You stood from the bed, too. "I'm happy we're havin' a baby! Why're you reacting this way?"

"We can't afford a baby right now!" Joel looked enraged now. "We don't got the space - fuckin' Tommy crashes the couch! Where we puttin' a whole baby, huh? Where we puttin' a kid? How're we gonna afford more groceries? More schoolin'? You didn't think this through, now, did you!?"

"Fuck's sake, Joel, do I need to give you a sex-ed course? Explain how you're just as much in this as I am? I didn't do this to myself, we both took risks - but I didn't think this was gonna be an issue! I thought you'd want this!"

"When have I ever said I wanted another kid? Huh? Don't put words in my mouth, woman! I got Sarah, ain't no kid better than that! Why would I even want to bother? Knowing our situation!? You think you're ready to be a mom? All you do is work, and it makes you a pretty shaky stepmother! Neither of us are in a place to just stop and take care of a kid, we're in too deep with our current bills!"

You felt too stunned to speak, every defense you had lowering in pure sadness as tears collected in your eyes. "You serious, right now?"

"Completely," he sighed, hands to his hips.

"So, you... You don't want this baby?"

Joel's jaw flexed. "Not right now, no."

"Okay," you sighed.

"I can't take care of another kid," he shook his head. "Look, why can't Sarah be enough? You've known her her whole life."

"Why is it so wrong to wonder what it's like to be pregnant? To have my own child? Since you have Sarah."

"We have Sarah," he snapped.

"No... We don't, since I'm only a shaky stepmother."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"No? How'd you mean it?" You wondered sarcastically. "Maybe that I won't be a good mother? That you don't want a kid with me, is it? Whatever, Joel, look, there's no compromise here. You don't want this baby, but I do... So, this it is."

"What is? To what?"

"Us," you sighed, gesturing between you. "If you really don't want this baby, then I don't see how we can still participate in a marriage."

"The fuck - "

"I won't stay where I'm not wanted."

"I want you, just not the baby!"

"So, understand this. Because I'm growing that baby currently, you simply don't want me. So, it's all right, now. I'll get my shit and get out, figure out what to do movin' forward, and I'll have the divorce papers sent - "

"Like hell, you are!" Joel raged.

"How're we gonna fix this then!?"

"Fuckin' Christ, woman, you really know how to piss me off! This ain't my issue - this is your problem. But we ain't gettin' a divorce, so, you better figure it out."

You scoffed, "Who the hell even are you?"

"Come again?"

You gestured at him, "This is not who I married."

"Neither are you. When we got married, you said Sarah was more than enough - "

"You know what? Feelin's change!"

Joel scoffed, "Yeah, fuckin' tell me 'bout it."

"Wow," you sighed, turning for the closet, muttering, "wow, wow, wow, wow, WOW!"

"Fuck!" Joel snapped. "C'mon, doll, don't do this."

He watched you pack a suitcase frantically, the fight continuing to wage farther into the night. Back and forth, you two went round after round after round, trying to make the other understand and see reason. To Joel, it was a matter of financials and space. To you? It was everything else.

By 3 am, you had finally packed your necessary belongings into two bags - a suitcase and purse - before you were charging down the stairs with Joel still hollering after you. Tommy was in the living room, pacing, and Sarah was laid on the couch, eyes red and swollen as she clutched a pillow to her chest. You came to a halt when you saw them both, Joel still sneering but silencing himself when he saw what you stared at.

Just like that, he understood his brother and daughter had heard every word he shouted at you, and never had he felt such shame. You swallowed harshly, nodding at Tommy before looking to Sarah. With a wobbling smile, you managed to garble, "I'm sorry."

"Mama, wait!" Sarah gasped, shooting off the couch as you fled for the front door; Tommy catching her around her waist. "No! No! Daddy, go get her! Don't go! Mama! Please! What's happening? Why won't you go after her!?"

But to Tommy's shock and horror, Joel silently descended the stairs to push the front door closed and locked it - bolting them inside and his wife outside. "Joel," Tommy shook his head, confusing marring his features. "The hell happened?"

But Joel only sighed, turned, and headed up the stairs again. Not a moment later, his bedroom door closed - making Tommy release Sarah. She rushed to the door but stopped, only staring out, and Tommy understood she could no longer see your car.

"Hey, Sarah?" Tommy called softly. "You can stay home from school tomorrow. All right?"

She only nodded silently, taking a seat at the front door and just watching. He frowned, wanting to shoo her off to bed, but understood that her child-like mind could only understand so much. She wanted to wait for you to come home, she wanted to see you coming... However, the following morning, Joel found his daughter slumped against the front door and his brother on the stairs from watching her.

His heart had plummeted to his feet when he saw them, more so when he understood you weren't home. The house already felt colder.

September 26th, 2003 Outbreak Day

Your daughter was barely a few months old by the time "it" happened. After leaving Joel, you went home to your parents and they were gracious enough to welcome you and the babe growing in your womb.

They made up your childhood bedroom into a nursery and let you transform their home office into a spare bedroom as your little brother was living in the guest room and older sister in the basement. It was an incredibly tiny room, but it worked for now; and your little girl was a ray of sunshine that you barely noticed how miserable you truly felt.

You hadn't seen Joel since the birth... And before that? Not since your fight. He really didn't want shit to do with your daughter, and while you always told him when your appointments were, he never showed. When you went into labor, your father was the one who called him because you only sobbed through the pain that you wanted your husband. So, Joel showed that day, but didn't go into the delivery room. He just waited outside it, listening, feeling his heart shatter again and again as you begged someone to find your husband, but no matter how your mother and father begged him to go in, he wouldn't. He couldn't.

It was only after the baby was born did he venture in.

You looked beat to hell and the sheets seemed bloodier than usual, but he didn't want to linger. He only nodded at you, hands in his pockets, "Good job... She's real beautiful."

You blinked, glancing over to where a nurse was swaddling the just-cleaned baby. "Thank you," you whispered. Then, he turned to leave, "W-Wait!" You begged, making him pause. "Don't you... I-I don't know, want to help name her?"

Joel sighed, glancing at you over his shoulder, "No, 's all right. Whatever you want, she's your daughter."

Your heart broke all over again, watching him leave. So much so, when the nurse brought your daughter over for you to hold, you broke down in horrendous sobs that the nurse actually shied away. You couldn't breathe from the pain, and it actually set off a few alarms on your hospital monitors.

Your mother watched in despair as a team of professionals had to sedate you in order to calm you down enough; holding her grandbaby and rocking her arms. She waited for days, hoping you'd ask to hold your daughter, but never did. Only when the lactation expert came in to help you nurse your daughter did you actually "willingly" hold her.

It just broke your heart to even look at her because she looked so much like Joel that it should've been illegal. Eventually, you came around and felt as if you couldn't set the baby down, but for the first few days were exhaustingly tough. Your parents were a huge help, but that didn't make it easier on you to try and process life without Joel. You loved your husband, wanted him back, but after his behavior, you couldn't fathom being within 6 feet of him again.

However, life had much different plans.

You didn't feed your baby formula, opting for breast feeding. Ironically, during your pregnancy, you had developed an intolerance to gluten and never wanted flour-products even after giving brith to your daughter. However, your father loved your mother's cookies...

It was nearly 2 am when it happened.

Your father had been the first "Infected" of the family, and only your mother was in their room with him. You heard the thumping and screams, peering out of your room only to see blood pooling from under your parent's closed bedroom door. "Get back," you hissed at your little brother, darting down the hall to your daughter's nursery.

"DADDY! NO!" You heard your brother scream a minute later, panic enveloping you as your daughter started to cry.

"No, no, no, it's okay, hey, hey, it's okay, sweetheart," you whispered, trying to shush her. There wasn't time to spare, and just as you secured your daughter to your chest with tight arms and made it from her room, your father came barreling out of your little brother's room - scaring the shit outta you. "D-Daddy?"

He snarled, neck snapping when he looked at you - but that wasn't your father. No, this creature was something else and while it was in your father's body, it wasn't your Daddy, and you weren't safe here.

"Down here! NOW!" Katie, your older sister called, making you shoot off down the stairs in a blind panic. Your father came crashing down behind you, knocking into your legs as you reached the bottom - forcing you to turn over and land on your back to protect your kid.

"OH MY GOD!" You screamed when your father bolted upright.

"STAY DOWN!"

Your sister swung her softball bat, knocking your father's head back with a sickly snap. He went down, and for a moment, it was all quiet. "What the fuck?" You panted, baby still crying.

"I don't know," Katie panted, reaching for your arms and helping you up. "I-I didn't - I didn't think," she stuttered, looking at your father, who's head was split open and spewing blood. "I-I killed him."

"Between us?" You nodded, "Think he was already dead."

"Where's Mommy? And Billy!?"

"Upstairs..."

"You don't think...?"

"Should we check?"

"What if they're alive and we just left them?" She worried, blinking back tears. "I-I don't know what to do."

"I think we need to get the fuck outta here," you admitted, looking around you two. "We aren't safe here, Katie, we should move."

Just then, there was a thud from upstairs. Your sister uttered your name in fear, and you had to steel yourself. "What do we do?" She whispered.

"Kitchen, there's only one door and the basement," you nodded, the two of you turning and hustling into the room. You looked around and found a long cerated knife, standing at the ready with one arm around your baby.

"What's gonna come for us?"

"Whatever the hell happened to Daddy," you gulped. "I still think we should run for it."

"But Mama - "

"She's probably dead!" You snapped. "But we aren't. We don't have to die if we play smart. I say, we get what we need and get the fuck out of here."

However, before she could answer, there was a snarling from outside the door. Your baby still cried, and soon, the door was bursting open with your mother's Infected body being hurled through the door. Your sister begged your name in a yell and you repeated at her that it's not really your mother - keeping the kitchen island between you three - and that she needed to swing the bat.

However, your little brother came barreling inside right after and knocked into you. It was a struggle as you had to let go of your baby to keep the 10-year-old demon off your body; hip teeth gnashing as pale tendrils came curling out of his mouth.

"NO!"

You couldn't look back at your sister, struggling to keep the suspiciously-strong boy at bay. You used your feet to kick him off you, snatch up the knife, and as he came back - snarling and screaming - you only stabbed the knife up into the underside of his jaw. Yanking free, blood and more came gushing out, and your brother when down.

When you turned, your sister was panting and leaning against a counter. Mother laid dead at her feet. "You good?" You asked.

"Yeah... You?"

"Yeah," you sniffled, moving to collect your baby from the bloody linoleum floor. "Can we get the fuck outta here now?"

"There's no more threat."

"Seriously?" You snapped. "Honey, if it happened here, it's happenin' elsewhere and we need to fucking move before we get left behind. Understand me?"

But then... There was a sickening sound from the only other door in the kitchen... The one leading to the basement...

"Katie?" You called your sister's name, "it's time to run."

"GO!" She screamed when a new body, that of your next door neighbor, came bursting through the door. You both ran, your daughter tight to your chest, and just made it outside your family home when a truck was screeching to a halt.

Joel leapt from the passenger seat, hollering your name in panic, and making you shoot off like a Roman Candle towards him. He caught you easily, holding you and your infant close to his chest as Katie came sprinting from behind you - taking cover behind Joel.

"What - "

"JOEL!" Katie screamed, pointing towards the body rushing from your home.

"Tommy!"

There came a gunshot, making you flinch into his chest as he turned you from the sight. "Get in the truck," Tommy called, Sarah opening the door from the inside to invite Katie in.

"We gotta go, darlin', it's time to go, let's go," Joel muttered to you.

"What the fuck is happenin'?"

"We don't know, but it's bad," he nodded, looking around frantically. "We need off the streets, baby, please, get in the truck."

But you paused, asking him, "You came back for me?"

"For the both of you," he sighed, caressing the top of your daughter's head - who still wailed in fear. "Please, baby, it's time to go - get in the truck." When you did, he rambled, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, all right, Tommy! Let's go!"

When everyone was in and doors shut, a new game began: Get the Hell Outta Dodge.

During the ride, Tommy and Joel filled you and Katie in with what they knew from the broadcasters that were once on the airwaves. Sarah held onto you tightly, infant child still wriggling in your lap and arms. You were trying to flee the suburbs, making for the highway, but it seemed, everyone else who hadn't been killed off had the same idea and created intense traffic.

"We're okay," you whispered to Sarah on repeat, almost in a chant. Katie frowned and slowly reached over Sarah's lap, taking hold of your daughter. You slowly let go only to latch full onto Sarah and try to comfort her with slow rocking and cooed words of encouragement. Joel knew that in your time apart, you and Sarah saw each other often - nearly on a daily basis - and could understand that you were her mother, through-and-through.

You both needed the comfort right now.

Someone to lean on.

Someone to be scared with you instead of saying "buck up."

"Take the field, Tommy!" Katie barked from the back, holding your screaming baby to her shoulder and trying to offer her warmth and comfort. However, it was impossible with the tangible panic and loud blaring of horns and cursing voices. "We can cut across and pick the road up on the west side."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. West, West, all right. All right, hang on," he turned the wheel, everyone bracing for the sharp movement before the bumping of the terrain became wildly uneven.

Around them, other cars followed suit, and the field was soon flooded with civilian cars trying to flee. "The fuck could be happening?" Katie asked you, gulping, "You're the doctor!"

"I-I don't fucking know, Katie, please," you whispered back, gulping in nerves as Tommy drove you all over the grass.

However, when they came over the hill to catch sight of their destination, there was a flooding of lights and choppers in the air. Tommy cursed, "Shit! Fuckin' Army!"

"Isn't that good?" Sarah asked from your embrace.

"It's good for them, but that's the highway we're tryna get to," Tommy explained, coming to a halt as cars flooded past them.

"All right, keep movin'. Head north," Joel advised quietly, his mind trying to settle.

"Could be a lotta people," Tommy argued lightly.

"Well, we can't go south, we can't go east, we can't go west," Joel pointed out. "Hell else we supposed to go?"

"Tommy, fuckin' drive!" You grit, Katie joining you in on the last word.

"Tommy, c'mon!" Joel followed right after. The tires squealed as Tommy pressed on the gas while turning his wheel, making the truck turn and speed off for a distant suburban town; lights in the distance guiding you. "Yeah," Joel muttered. "Yeah, I know that place. This can work."

"Yeah, all right, fine, cool, but then what?" Katie asked. "Where are we supposed to go then?"

"I don't know. Mexico. Just far, far as we can," Joel answered uneasily. "How much gas?"

"Three-quarter tank," Tommy answered.

"Go through town," Joel advised. "Golf course by the river, straight across, we pick up the highway on the other side of the blockade, then we're out."

"I'm gonna throw up," Katie whispered, head tilted back with her eyes closed.

"If you're feelin' sick, hand me my baby," you snapped, looking at her with fear.

"No, girl, it's anxiety," she snapped back. "I'm not sick."

"How can you be sure?" Sarah wondered.

"Cause it would've hit us the same as it did our family..."

"Who'd it hit?" Tommy wondered, looking back.

"We're all that's left," you sighed, saving your sister from answering. "Daddy turned first, then Mama... Billy after... We got out."

"They bite 'chall?" Tommy asked, glancing back.

"No," you answered, looking at Katie. "You bit?"

"Nope, I beat 'em to the punch," she sighed. "Ah, fuck, my stomach."

"Throw up in my truck, darlin'," Tommy muttered, sucking his teeth.

"Throw up on my baby, Kate, and I'll beat 'cho ass," you snipped, perking a warning brow at her.

"Girl," she sighed, glancing at Sarah - who had sat off you in contemplation. "Sarah?" She whispered in wondered.

"Maybe it's everywhere," she voiced, glancing at the two of you sat on either side of her. "Maybe there's nowhere to go..."

"Well, hey, we'll just have to find somewhere safe," you nodded back at her, but furrowed your brow. "Anyone hear that?"

"Oh, shit - "

"What the fuck!?" Tommy called over Katie, glancing up towards the roof as there came a deafening sound of a plane flying far too low to the ground.

"Cover her ears!" You begged Katie, reaching for Sarah to press your hands over her ears. Your sister held your daughter's ears closed - her still screaming bloody murder - as the plane flew over the truck.

"Fuckin' hell!" She looked back, noting the sky. Sarah whipped around, too, only to spy two more planes in the sky - all flying low and at odd angles.

However, ahead of them, cop cars were speeding around the streets and cutting off any route. "Son of a bitch," Tommy cursed. "Gotta go around. Grab somethin'!"

You held onto the designated 'oh shit!' bar over your head as Sarah leaned over to hold Katie and your baby. Tommy took a sharp right into an alley, between buildings. When you all rightened, it was only to see the people on the street running around, screaming, cars zooming past them all. Tommy took a left, then another right, and joined the bustle of the street.

"All right, keep goin', keep goin'," Joel pointed ahead, but tommy blew past a stop sign. "Shit - TOMMY!"

Another car came to a screeching halt, barely missing T-boning the Tommy's truck. They moved on, only to discover people mauling each other in the street - blocking most of their path. "Oh, my God," Sarah whispered, reaching for you as your arm came around her shoulders again as Tommy came to a stall.

"Tommy, you can't stop here," Joel reminded.

"I can't drive through 'em all!"

"Are you serious?" Joel barked. "Just keep goin'!"

However, ahead came the smashing of glass and a stampede of people - all running wildly and making you assume they were Infected, too. "Ohhhhhhh, shit," Katie whimpered.

"Go, go, go, go, back, back, back, back, back, back," Joel encouraged his brother, who hastily switched gears.

"I'm trying!"

However, when you and Sarah looked back to watch the crowd and stay out of Tommy's range of sight, you saw a distant threat and tuned everything else out. "Joel!" You begged, reaching for his arm as the sight of an airborne plane turning in the sky to head back your way was far too pressing right now.

"Dad!" Sarah echoed.

"Holy shit," Katie sobbed, cradling your baby tightly and without you even noticing, put her seatbelt on.

"Move. MOVE!" Joel told Tommy.

The plane took a nosedive into the ground, exploding, and send a flurry of parts around the surrounding area. One of those areas happened to the building you were driving past, and one of the steel parts ricocheted off it and into the truck.

Everything went black.

"Baby? Baby, can you hear me? Hey, hey, hey, darlin', c'mon, open them pretty eyes for me, c'mon, baby, please."

"Fuck," you wheezed, eyes slowly opening.

"Hey, hey, hey, there you are, hey," Joel whispered, Tommy, Katie, and Sarah already out of the truck. "There you go, c'mon, you all right? You hurt?"

"No," you blinked a few times, wiggling your toes and fingers. "Fuck's sake, what happened?"

"Car accident," he nodded, "c'mon, sugar, gotta get up for me," he looked around. "We ain't safe here, c'mon, baby, that's it."

You nodded and let him pull you from the wreckage, grunting when shattered glass pressed into your skin to create long drips of blood that resembled a child's melted-crayon canvas from elementary art class. When out, Sarah kept weight off her ankle and wobbled in her stance, making you frowned, "All right?"

"Ankle," Sarah sniffled.

"We gotta get off the streets!" Tommy called from the other side of the car.

"KATIE!?"

"I got her!" She called back, and then, you could distinguish her shrill crying. You sighed with relief before Tommy was profanely screaming and Joel turned you and Sarah from the car just as an out-of-control police car came smashing into the truck.

"I got her," you told Joel, taking hold of Sarah in full as he nodded in thanks before turning for the wreckage they couldn't get around.

"Tommy!? Tommy!? Katie!? TOMMY!"

The brothers found a glimpse of each other through the flames, Tommy telling his brother, "Head to the river! We'll find a way! Get them outta here, Joel! Go!"

"Take care of my daughter," he nodded back.

"C'mon," Tommy told Katie, and the two were taking off with Tommy's gun slung over his shoulder.

Joel turned back for you and Sarah, gulping nervously at you, "Darlin', listen, I'm so sorry - "

"Joel, now's not the time," you panted. "We gotta go. Okay? We're good right now, but we gotta stay good. Let's get the fuck outta here, please. We can talk later!"

He nodded back, looking at Sarah, who refused, "We can't leave them! K-Katie has D - "

"They'll be fine," Joel insisted. "Tommy's with 'em, they'll look after each other. Can you run?"

"No," she shook her head, making Joel sigh.

"Can you?"

"I'm good," you nodded, worryingly looking at Sarah. "I can carry her - "

"'S all right, darlin'," he muttered, sweeping Sarah into his arms and making her arms latch around his neck. "You keep your eyes on me," he told his daughter. She nodded. "Okay?"

"Okay," Sarah breathed.

"Okay," Joel nodded. "And you don't look anywhere else." Sarah buried her head in her father's neck, his eyes meeting yours. "And you..." He panted, swallowing nervously. "You stay with me, you stay right with me, all right?"

"All right."

"All right," he agreed, hurrying off down the alley. You were true to your word, keeping up with him easily, but both slowing when the end of the alley only lead to a group of Infected motherfuckers feasting on the flesh of other humans.

You panicked for a moment, looking around you, and nearly missing the sound of the a distant explosion - sounding more like a crack from this distance. However, it was enough of a sound to draw the attention of at least one Infected Fucker - who looked up to stare at you, Joel, and Sarah.

Joel lead you to a building behind you - but the Fucker followed. "Joel, go, go, go," you hissed, easily taking the lead to use your body to burst through doors. Joel followed, understanding that because he was carrying Sarah, you had assumed the role of "guide" and wanted to clear his path - but it also cleared a path to be followed.

It made horrendous sounds as it chased you three, literally hauling it's body around as if it had no real control over it. The feeling inside your chest was chaotic, the tension tangible through the air as you lead Joel through the closed-diner.

The creature still followed.

Finally outside, you didn't have to restrict yourself but couldn't find it in you to leave Joel and Sarah behind. If this was the end, it was only right you fell as a family - and while deeply stupid of you, it was oddly poetic. However, as you heard the beast in pursuit just nipping at your heels, so sounded a reverberating gunshot.

It made you pause, looking back to see a headshot had taken the Infected Fucker out, and yet, no obvious sign of the shooter. Joel comforted Sarah, looking down at you - making you nod, telling him you were okay - before looking around again.

Then, a flashlight blinded you as a Humvee's lights flashed on, a voice demanding, "Don't move!"

"Joel..." You whispered, holding onto his elbow as he readjusted so he was slightly in front of you.

"My daughter's hurt!" Joel called to the military man. "Her ankle!"

"Stop right there!" He barked again.

"Okay," Joel muttered, nerves being shared as you had a bad feeling about this. "Easy now. We're not sick!"

But the solider, instead, radioed in, "I got three civilians by the river, one of 'em injured... Ankle..."

"What about Uncle Tommy and Aunt Katie?" Sarah asked her father.

"We're gonna get you somewhere safe first, with your Mama. Yeah? Then we'll come back for 'em, okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay."

"I'm sorry, repeat?" The solider asked into his comms system - earning your attention again. Joel tried to step forward, but the flashlight was right back up into your face, the man snapping, "Hey! No one told you to move!"

"Joel," you worried. "They have shoot-to-kill orders."

"What?" He whispered.

"In the event of extreme violence, similar to this, they have orders to shoot-to-kill," you told him shakily, watching the man. "I know you wanna trust 'em, but they're not our friend right now. Get ready to run..."

"Darlin' - "

"Joel," you hushed, squeezing his elbow.

The solider answered his commanding officer with three, spaced out, "Yes, sir's," before he was slowly picking up his firearm and the light was again in their eyes.

Joel realized how right his estranged wife was in that moment. "We're not sick," he tried to remind. But the man approached, making Sarah's breathing pick up as she held on tighter to Joel's neck - blindly reaching out for you. "Sir," Joel begged, "we are not sick!"

But just like you had said, the orders were shoot-to-kill, and the rapid gunfire sounded in the knight - only barely masked by Sarah's high-pitched scream. You felt a searing burn in your thigh, all three of you toppling over down the short hill you were heading towards; all three rolling away from one another.

When you came to a halt, you seethed in pain, holding your thigh, but hearing a much worse sound. Sarah hyperventilating. You looked up as the solider leered over Joel, army-crawling towards her just as a gunshot sounded. However, when you weren't struck, you kept going, and reached your stepdaughter.

"Baby?" You whispered.

"Mama," she begged. "Mama, Mama," she repeated, barely able to swallow her saliva - much less her fear. "Hurts," she grunted, soon losing the ability to form words.

Tommy had seen the scene and rushed forward to shoot the solider, leaving Katie at his side with your infant daughter still in arm. "I got'cha, hey, hey, hey, I"m here," you whispered, literally whipping your shirt off to press into her stomach. "JOEL!" You cried, looking over your shoulder to spy him on the ground.

He quickly scrambled to Sarah's other side, taking in the situation, and looking at you with absolute devastation. You cried as you held pressure, but you knew, from the entry wounds, Sarah didn't stand a chance. Her aorta artery had been hit and shredded by a bullet, only giving her moments left in this life.

Watching Joel was possibly harder than watching him walk away from you in the birthing room. He was desperate, trying to save his daughter but only being able to hold her as she grunted and sobbed in pain; bleeding out in her father's arms. Joel begged you to help but you couldn't, unable to form words, so, he turned to his brother and screamed at him - and your sister - to help him.

But in that moment he had looked away, Sarah's life had left them. "Joel," you whimpered, making him look down and realize what happened. He sobbed, drawing her in tightly; rocking helplessly on the ground as he couldn't fathom what had just happened.

However, amongst his mourning, there came a sound you never wanted to hear again. Whipping around, you caught sight of your sister starting to twitch and leapt to your feet; limping in hurried motions to snatch your screaming baby from her tightening grip.

"Katie," you begged in a sob, backing up towards Tommy, "oh, God, no... No, please."

But the bite on her forearm had turned a sickly black-and-blue, alerting she had been bit at some point and never voiced it. Before your very eyes, she turned from your dear, sweet older sister into a blood-thirsty monster. Yellowed and dead eyes, snarling and uncontrollable twitching, limbs that turned up in odd angles as the infection took over completely.

When done, you sister gave a shriek before you pleaded, "Tommy!"

He took aim and fired once, putting Katie out of her misery; sending her corpse crumbling to the ground. You panted, tears in your eyes as you couldn't process this night, but then... The unexpected.

"Oh, God, no," you gasped, wrenching your daughter from your chest as she started wriggling uncontrollably. "No, no, no, no, no, no," you sobbed, dropping to your knees and laying her down. Quickly opening her baby blanket, you noted the adult-sized bite on her whole shin, sobbing harshly. "Delilah! No, not my baby, no, no, oh, fuck, no, c'mon, not you, too. Not you, too, Delilah, please, my angel, oh, fuck, no, God damn it!"

"Darlin'," Tommy stuttered from behind you. He looked up in fear, finding his brother's confused gaze and calling, "J-Joel!"

"Delilah, please, fuck, h-how do I fix this!?" You begged. "No, fuck, God damn it! Why can't I help my daughters!?" You snarled at Tommy, sobbing until your chest hurt. "Why!? Why can't I save them!?"

"Doll," he whispered, his older brother slowly letting go of Sarah to lay her down, shut her eyes, and rest her arms over her stomach before turning for you.

"Not her, too, please," you begged. "That's everyone, please, no, please, th-this can't - please, this can't be happening! How do I help, Delilah, baby, please?" You still begged, looking at her bite. "I-I can - I don't know what to do! Wo-Would amputation work? Oh, fuck, no, no, it's - no, please!"

Joel stumbled to his feet, nearing you, but pausing as he could only stare as his infant daughter, whom he had only just seen, twitched and convulsed as the infection proved too great for her little body. It also wasn't lost to his that you had name her after his own mother, long since departed from this world and who would never meet her granddaughter.

"Oh, my God," Joel whispered, slowly nearing you as you sobbed over your daughter; hands hovering all over as you weren't sure where to touch her.

"Please!" You begged nobody, sobbing uselessly as Delilah came to a slow but jarring halt. "Oh, my God," you squeaked, leaning back in shock. "Oh... Oh, my fuckin' God, no... Not our kids, c'mon, no, God, please, fuck - this has to be some fucked-up nightmare. Right?" You looked desperately at Joel. "This... This isn't real, right? This isn't really happening? Please, Joel, you have to fucking tell me this isn't real - this can't be real."

"I'm sorry," Joel wheezed, slowly reaching for you.

"This didn't happen," you shook your head. "O-Our daughters - what the fuck just happened?"

Tommy slowly took the seat on your other side, Joel easily tugging you into his embrace as your sobs wracked your whole being. There were no words to be shared, only the grief of two parents who had just lost everything. Sarah's blood stained both your skin, Delilah laid perfectly still in her baby blanket right in front of you, and Tommy, who felt his gun weighed more than himself after failing to protect those he loved most in this world.

Joel, who lost his daughters but kept his brother.

And you... Who lost your husband a year ago and both your daughters, your mother, father, little brother, and older sister all in a single night. You, who would carry this night of great loss with you, for life. You, who felt confused on how "moving forward" was ever possible. You, who would eventually lose feeling in your head and heart that would result in years of violent turmoil.

You, who would eventually find a path to redemption, but for tonight, you, who grieved loudly and openly in the bloody arms of your estranged husband.

requesting rules and masterlist

TLOU masterlist

[kayjaywrites]

Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter One

Summary: Azriel Shadowsinger, mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, was head over heels in love with you for years. Everyone in the room could see it, except for you of course. A series of connected one-shots.

Chapter Word Count: 6,350 Chapter Music Inspo: End of It - Friday Pilots Club

Chapter Content Warnings: fluff, some cursing, one bed trope, awkward but wholesome communication, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish, reader low key being thirsty for Azzie

Note: Hello! Welcome to my first fic in like 10 years! This idea came about when I was having a hard time falling back asleep. I sometimes draft fanfiction when i'm trying to sleep. I don't often remember the plots come morning, but the memory of this one remained intact enough for me to jot down. I’m thinking this update is gonna be the longest chapter because it's both prologue and the first chapter, but I have terrible self control with word count limits. So I guess we’ll see what the next chapters bring, but they may be shorter!

Enjoy me 2am fugue state musings, there are likely typos~

XxXx

Prologue

It was all worth it. The decades of patience and silent suffering. The centuries of loneliness paying off just as you lost hope of ever leaving The Court of Nightmares. You and your father, Kier, expected a typical visit from the Inner Circle. The High Lord would threaten your father to keep him in line, you’d go unnoticed in the back of the throne room monitoring the interaction. Just like every other time they visited.

Except, the High Lord and his Inner Circle asked about you like you were the reason behind their visit. You had clocked the visit as odd as soon as only Rhysand, Feyre, and Mor arrived. The absence of both The General & Shadowsinger at the same time a rarity. Despite being related to Rhysand and Mor, you didn’t think they knew your name, so when they asked Kier about you, by name, your heart damn near fell out of your ass.

They wanted you to leave Hewn City to work with them. A Courtier of the Night Court, working alongside Nesta, Lady Death herself, of all people. They wanted you to start immediately now that the war with Hybern was over. Relations between Courts were strained, and upon learning of your talent, the High Lord deemed it a waste for you to be hidden away down here. He and the Inner Circle believed you did not belong in The Court of Nightmares. To anyone else, having the High Lord speak so highly of your child would have been an honor.

It was the most furious you’d ever seen Kier. Which was saying something. His emotions grew volatile in a blink of an eye, outraged by the absolute gall of the High Lord. How dare he come to his city and tell him that you weren’t meeting your full potential down here? At some point Kier stood up, snarling at Rhysand and the others like a wild animal. Kier, so lost in his anger, let his mental shields falter. Just for a second, but it was more than enough time for your powers to draw his wayward thoughts to you, like a magnet, his unspoken intentions seeped into your own mind. You were always terrible at blocking him out when he got like that.

Power. Kier's thoughts whispered to you. A spy for him in the Inner Circle.

It disgusted you how predictable your father was, his intentions were always about how he could best use you for his own gain. It was the driving force behind your excessive training habits, desperate to protect yourself from the toxicity of his intentions. The more you failed at keeping him out, the more you hated him, and by default hated yourself.

Rhysand was right, you were wasted down here, and it wasn’t that your father didn’t see that, he didn’t care. He wasn’t furious with the High Lord for taking another daughter away from him, he was mad about losing a tool.

Well, your father could rot down here alone for all you cared.

You felt a lot of things in that moment. Intimidated by the prospect of working with Nesta, unsure of Mor’s morals and the rumors surrounding her, apprehensive of Rhysand and Feyre’s power, and not to mention all the unknown dynamics between the rest of the Inner Circle. But, despite all that uncertainty, you did not feel nervous about leaving Hewn City with them.

The first task Kier ever appointed you was to report on Rhysand and his Inner Circle’s intentions every time they visited. Either they all had flawless control over their mental shields, or their icy behavior was an act from the beginning. You never dared to share your suspicions with Kier, your father only wanted ammo for his hate, and he never took kindly to evidence that didn’t support his biases against High Lord Rhysand.

It felt a little too much like blind faith and a hunch for you to be 100% comfortable with the decision, but you decided to put your trust in these strangers anyway.

You would take the job.

Not to be a spy for Kier.

Not out of some duty to your High Lord or older sister.

It was time to live your life for you. Consequences be damned.

But, the focus of this story was not about moving to Velaris with Mor and getting to know the Inner Circle. It wasn’t about how much you rock as a diplomat for the Night Court. It wasn’t about how good it felt the first time sunlight touched your skin upon leaving the underground city. It wasn’t even about how you and Nesta became best friends. However good those stories may be.

However, this story is about Azriel Shadowsinger, and how the mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, fell head over heels for you without you ever picking up on it. Yeah, that’s right, the girl who struggled to control her talent for hearing unspoken intentions never puzzled the pieces together. For literal years everyone else in the godforsaken room could tell the Spymaster was in love with you, except for you.

...one year and a couple months later....

It all started with an argument with Rhysand a few assignments into your career as the Night Court Courtier. You felt like you could handle traveling between Courts without needing an escort, especially if you’d be meeting up with Nesta at the destination anyway. Rhysand did not agree, basically threatening to ground you if you didn’t allow someone to accompany you.

That was how Azriel had become your full-time travel partner. Rhysand appointed Azriel as an additional escort in case Nesta was pulled away.

You’d take this to your grave before ever admitting it, but Rhysand wasn’t wrong to be worried. There had been a good number of times where just that had happened. Nesta would be working the other side of the room, and having Azriel lingering nearby eased your nerves. Prythian was a vast Realm, and Rhys had been right in worrying about your adjustment.

It didn’t take too long for you to adapt once you had visited all the different Courts a few times. Yet, Azriel continued to go out of his way to accompany you to events. The first obvious sign of his affections for you came a little over a year into your career.

The event was in a small Day Court town on the border of the Night Court, just under a day’s travel from Velaris on foot. Home to one of the libraries hit hardest by Amarantha’s looting, the entire town was celebrating the return of a sizable chunk of the stolen volumes. The gala was advertised to be a quaint dinner and cocktail hour. You suspected that scholars and book enthusiasts would be the bulk of those present. Although interested in going, Rhysand had High Lord duties to attend to that involved Nesta and the other Archeron sisters in the Summer Court. With a promise to fill everyone in on anything of interest, you packed a small overnight bag and waited for Mor to arrive home. You never developed the ability to winnow, so you needed someone to bring you.

Fussing with your hair in one of the numerous mirrors decorating Mor’s walls, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. Your time in Velaris, just over two years, had already begun to sooth a deep sadness you hadn’t realized had settled under your skin. It was obvious in the gentle way you gazed at your reflection, the healthy flush of your cheeks, and the warmth of your thoughts. Velaris looked good on you, and as you smoothed a hand down the shimmery sapphire blue fabric of the dress that clung to your curves, you thought the new formalwear looked good on you too.

Giddiness bubbled up in you at the idea of modeling the new dress for Mor. The excitement felt foreign still, after spending centuries believing Mor didn’t care to know her own little sister. You never thought you’d ever get the chance to gush over dresses with her. Kier hated everything Mor represented, and was cruel to her in ways that made you feel lucky in a perverse way. Your father may have manipulated and alienated you, filling your head with lies about your older sister, but it was never public. Kier made sure everyone in the Court of Nightmares knew that Mor was a useless whore and a traitor.

When Mor became a core member of the Inner Circle, and Rhysand put her in charge of Hewn City, you would wait for her to acknowledge you during her visits. Decades turned into a century, but the same hope would always rise up when Mor was due for a visit, only to be crushed when she ignored you. She never paid you a second of her time, just a fleeting look in passing as if you were another spectator. Knowing that she wasn’t ignoring you out of ill intent stung more, because you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her.

Kier may be your father, but that didn’t mean you had to be a fan of his intentions. You never believe the rumors he spread about Mor.

And then, the big reveal came. It turned out that to Mor, you were just another spectator. Mor didn’t know she had a younger sister at all. Keir hid you so well that no one realized you were related to him. A detail that made you feel so small when it came to light. You were just the shy woman in the background, taught to be pleasant when spoken to, a pretty little wallflower the rest of the time.

Later, when you asked about who first realized your identity, you got mixed accounts from the Inner Circle. Rhysand insisted that it was he who put the pieces together first. Stating that it came to him suddenly after Azriel submitted a report from a surveillance mission detailing an overheard conversation between you and Kier about your talents. Rhysand claimed that your powers reminded him of a variation of Mor’s. The rest of the Inner Circle credited Feyre for noting the resemblance between you, Kier, and The Morrigan the first time she noticed you loitering at the back of a council meeting.

When the truth was confirmed, and you agreed to go with them, Mor wept. She vowed to never leave you alone in The Court of Nightmares ever again, even for a second. That promise was your first experience with making a deal in the Night Court. Your clear surprise at the intricate tattoo that branded itself over the center of your sternum clued Mor, Rhysand, and Feyre in on how out of touch you were with common lore from your own Court. Mor wasted no time in winnowing you out of there after that. The both of you had heard enough of Keir’s nasty sneers and low-blow comments to last a lifetime.

Now, Mor’s cozy little home was also your cozy little home, if not a bit tight for two people. If someone asked you a decade ago if you thought you’d ever have a relationship with Mor you would advise them to seek out a healer.

And yet there you were, vibrating with things to tell her, anticipating her arrival with an almost goofy grin when…Azriel of all people winnowed into the living room.

Perplexed, but not totally disappointed, “Oh!” you said, clearly taken aback. “I was expecting Mor.”

Azriel huffed a low chuckle, dimples bracketing his amused half-smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

You looked him over, dark circles under his eyes, droopy eyelids, posture leaning forward in a slight slouch. “Az, didn’t you just return from a long mission? Why aren’t you resting?”

“Wanted to escort you to the Day Court Library Gala, of course.”

The tenderness in his voice had warmth bubbling up from your chest. “That is very kind,” you started, making sure to meet his gaze so he knew you meant it, “but you look so tired, Az. I’ve visited the Day Court a bunch of times now and only need someone to winnow me there. As much as I enjoy having you accompany me to these things, I don’t want you to stretch yourself thin on my account. I’ve got this.”

“I know you’ve got this,” came his immediate reply, “as you’ve pointed out I’ve been gone for a few weeks. What if I offered to escort you because I missed you, hm?”

Despite yourself you felt a flush of heat in your cheeks at his teasing. You refused to use your powers on anyone in the inner circle, unwilling to violate their privacy without explicit consent. But you didn’t need your powers to read Azriel’s sincerity. It made it hard to meet his gaze, you turned back to running your fingers through your hair in the mirror, taking a moment to compose yourself. “Well alright then, I don’t think I can do anything more to tame my hair, we should be off then.”

You felt Azriel at your back, a gloved hand coming up to gently grasp your elbow, guiding your arm down as his hand trailed down the bare skin of your forearm to hold yours, turning you to face him. “Stop fussing, you look stunning, this dress is new, right? I think the color suits you.”

You smiled. “Thank you, I suppose you would like this color, now that I’m thinking about it,” with your free hand you held up the skirt of the floor length dress to the siphon on his wrist, marveling at the color match, “it looks like I did it on purpose.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he pulled you closer into an almost embrace. “We should go now. Wouldn’t want to miss the opening speeches.”

You suppressed a shudder. Definitely from the way his breath tickled your ear, and not from the way his voice sounded as he tucked you into his chest. “You hate opening speeches.” You pointed out, remembering all the times he complained about how boring they were.

“I do, but you like them.” You’d never said as much aloud, but you did enjoy listening to people talk about things they were passionate about, and opening speeches tended to be just that. Of course the Spymaster had noticed.

If Azriel saw your smile before you hid your face against his leather-clad pec he didn’t let on. You pulled your hands free and looped your arms around his middle, clasping your fingers together under the base of his wings.

“I’m ready then, thank you for coming with me.” Your voice was muffled, unwilling to tilt your head up to talk to him in case your maddening blush was there. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you winnowed with Az, your whole face would go cherry red. Something Cassian never failed to poke fun at whenever he witnessed it.

Azriel wrapped his arms tightly around you, your body now flush to his. You focused on the sound of his wings rustling as he tucked them in closer. Anything to distract from the way your pulse spiked when you felt his lips brush against the crown of your head, his hold on you gentle, yet firm and protective as darkness folded around the both of you.

XxXx

Neither you nor Azriel realized the issue with your room reservation until much too late. Upon arrival in The Day Court the both of you hurried to the event. The gala wrapped up around midnight, and like most of the other guests staying in town, you and Azriel retired back to the nearby Inn. With your strappy heels in hand and a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, you felt positively bubbly. Paused in front of your room, you let Azriel rummage through the small black purse at your side for the key. After almost leading them into the wrong room, Azriel took it upon himself to find the correct room and unlock the door.

Minutes later you were still trying to suppress a smile at how Azriel reacted with such mortification when he realized you’d led them to the wrong room. The mental image of the great Shadowsinger so frantic in his efforts to stop you from further jostling the doorknob, had you letting out a laugh before you could stop it.

“It’s not funny.” He grumbled as he swung the wooden door to your room open, leading you inside. You were on the verge of poking fun at him some more when you caught a glimpse of the interior layout. Right, you had RSVP’d expecting to attend the gala alone. The realization sobered you up real fast.

The room was small, burgundy curtains concealing a sizable window, antique desk with tourist flyers stacked in a neat pile on top. A queen sized, four post bed situated in the middle of the room.

“I’ll take the floor—” Azriel started saying.

But you interrupted him. “—you should have the bed.”

“Absolutely not, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady sleep on the floor while I hogged the whole bed.” He nodded, as if the conversation was over, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at him.

“There’s not even enough space on the floor for you to stretch out Az. The room is basically only bed. It’s fine, I can use my extra clothes—”

You inhaled sharply, tensing at the thought of your overnight bag, left forgotten back at Mor's apartment. Your eyes darted to Azriel, meeting his gaze out of the corner of your eye, and you knew you didn’t need to say anything about it as he scoffed under his breath.

“You forgot your bag.” He observed.

Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair, your tight dress feeling like it was constricting around your chest as you contemplated sleeping in it. “I did indeed forget my bag.”

“We could just go back, we don’t have to stay here for the night.” Azriel pointed out, but the thought of cutting the trip short caused a ripple of disappointment to drop in your stomach.

“Or,” he continued with a hint of amusement, “I have an undershirt beneath my leathers. I changed before I met you at Mor’s, so it’s relatively clean. I was going to sleep in it tonight, but I would sacrifice my shirt for you if it meant you’d stop frowning like that.”

If you thought you were anxious before, Azriel’s suggestion sent your anxiety through the roof. You had always found Azriel attractive, even when you were still living in Hewn City. Who wouldn’t? That attraction grew into a bit of a crush when you first arrived in Velaris. He treated you with such care as you adjusted to living above ground, quiet, patient, and thoughtful.

Once it was apparent that you would be working closely with him you shut that shit down. You and him had spent a lot of time traveling together the last few years, always with separate sleeping arrangements, and never sharing clothing. You went out of your way to respect his privacy, give him space, all in hopes of being someone he one day could trust, like how you trusted him.

You could handle one night, sharing a bed, borrowing his shirt. That wouldn’t totally backfire on you in any way, right? Nodding to yourself once, you tried for an air of confidence as you talked around the nerves that have bloomed in your chest.

“Okay,” you agreed, “but if I change into your shirt you definitely can’t take the floor. I won’t let you sleep shirtless on the ground while I’m all tucked in and cozy in bed. I’ll only take up a sliver of it by myself anyway.”

He opened his mouth to object, his intentions written in the way his brow furrowed at you. But you barreled on anyway, “So, we share the bed tonight. Are you comfortable with that?”

His mouth snapped shut, eyes studying you for a tense moment as if you may be tricking him. You clasped your hands together in front of you, the longer you waited for him to respond the clammier your palms felt. Each second felt like an eternity and in no time at all you found yourself scrambling for a way to play off your idea as a joke.

Of course he wouldn’t want to share a bed with you. What in the world had you been thinking?

Maybe you could blame it on that deliciously fizzy drink you downed before leaving the gala, say you weren’t in your right mind. Pretend to not remember in the morning, as if this wasn’t going to be a moment you cringe about decades later. Would you be able to just laugh it off? Would Azriel be chill enough to let you live this down? You were probably so screwed.

He was still a little tense, but just before your panic truly took root Azriel began to nod his head like he...agreed with you?

“Yes, I think that is the most logical solution. The bed can definitely fit two.” Azriel finally said, and you tried to keep yourself from gaping at his response. But your surprise must have been all over your face because he went on to say, “I didn’t suggest it myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Wiping your hands down the front of your dress did little to help with the sweat. The pit that had been taking form in your stomach churned, your dread morphing into jittery nerves.

Then, as if you weren’t having a nervous breakdown right in front of him, the handsome lunatic started striping his leathers off. Dept hands tossing his gloves to the desk, he unclasped the chest pieces of his leathers, they fell to the floor with a thud. Then, the promised black undershirt was up over his head, and you were drinking in all his tattoos and corded muscles like you were a tactless teenager instead of a 300+ year old female.

A flash of movement from him, and you flinched when his shirt hit you square in the face. It was so big it draped over your head. You made a disgruntled noise, ignoring how delicious the shirt smelled as you removed it from your face, “Hey—!”

“If you’re done gawking at me like you’ve never seen a shirtless male, you can get ready for bed first.” He headed further into the room, collecting his chest piece off the floor and approaching the desk to place it with his gloves. He turned to face you, his butt propped against the desk as he gestured to the door his wingspan had been blocking from view. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, flexing his biceps, and you almost swooned at the sight. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Your fist tightened around the shirt, fighting the urge to toss it back at him out of spite. Embarrassment felt like hot iron under your skin, so instead you snapped your attention to the door he had pointed out–the bathroom. You knew you’d averted your gaze much too fast to seem unaffected by him. He chuckled, and you glowered at him as his head tilted to the side, watching you with a bemused expression. He looked about ready to comment further, but you waved him off with faux-annoyance and an exaggerated roll of your eyes. Clutching his shirt close to your chest, you escaped into the bathroom.

Subtle.

Pressing your back to the door, it closed under your weight. You paused there for a moment to focus on your breathing, your frazzled mind going a mile a minute. This was all so far out of your comfort zone, it wasn’t even funny. You never had to deal with handsome males in The Court of Nightmares, Kier didn’t let you socialize long enough for it to even be on your radar. Dating hadn’t quite made your list of top priorities upon arriving in Velaris either.

What little experience you did have was with a male named Allistair. You’d met him at Rita’s within your first year above ground. It was a fling of sorts that lasted a few months before you decided casual dating wasn’t for you. He was a perfectly adequate lover. At least you think he was. He was also your only lover. A nice enough companion as you acclimated to your new life. The times you had been intimate with that male had left you feeling…bereft. Seeing Allistair shirtless had been nothing like seeing Azriel shirtless.

And Azriel calling you out for ogling him so blatantly? Mother have mercy.

So now you were just expected to fall asleep next to him wearing his shirt after that? The situation almost made you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The last thing you wanted was to draw his suspicion by loitering against the door for too much longer, so you moved to the sink. Maybe splashing lukewarm water on your face would reveal that this had all been a weird ass nightmare.

Cupping water into your face a couple more times, you took in the smeared makeup dripping down your face in the mirror. Definitely not a dream.

Azriel was going to think you were in love with him for fucksake.

Snatching the nearby hand towel from the rack on the wall you soaked it, and got to work on scrubbing your face clean. You had to have a little more faith in Azriel. He wouldn’t let a single weird moment ruin over a year of amicable teamwork. But your personal relationship with him felt fragile to you at best. You can't let some tattoos and abs mess up what you considered to be the most solid friendship you’d made among the Inner Circle.

So what if he was hot as hell? You could co-exist with attractive people, it was legit a part of your job. You could salvage the situation, just change out of the dress you accidentally matched to the colors of his siphons, put his shirt on that smelled so strongly of him it gave you a headrush, and face him like you hadn't just been drooling over his naked chest.

You know, simple.

The hem of his t-shirt landed just above your knees, and the comfort you found in it was criminal. The black fabric was very soft and so baggy that you worried the wing slits in the back would shift forward in your sleep. It could reveal a little more than what you’d considered 'tasteful side boob'.

Resisting the urge to fuss in the mirror (because it wasn't like you were trying to look cute for anyone, right?), you exited the bathroom clean faced and a bit more settled than when you had entered.

Your bravado, however, was short lived. Azriel faced away from you in only his underwear, the rest of his leathers added to the pile on the desk. He was organizing his various knives on the bedside table closest to the main door.

He looked over his shoulder at you. Totally not catching you checking out his butt in the tight underpants. Cauldron boil you. Would it be weird if you marched yourself back into the bathroom to try the whole “not affected by sexy, almost nude Illyrian warrior” thing again?

Azriel inhaled sharply, and you snuck a glance at him. His attention was back on his knives, but there was a tension to him, almost like he was brooding. There might have been a light blush over his cheeks, but you felt weird analyzing him anymore than you already had out of habit. You clocked the change in his body language for what it was the instant he saw you in his shirt. Clenched jaw, tense shoulders, spine ramrod straight, wide eyed before averting his gaze, elevated heart rate–classic signs of attraction. Reactions he clearly didn’t want you to notice.

"I'm taking this side." He informed almost absently, patting the mattress. Leaving you with the window side.

You wandered to the desk to avoid observing him further, wishing that you could turn off the part of you that always seemed to be prying for more information. And then you felt it, his thoughts getting louder, his emotions growing wilder, reaching out to you. You slammed your mental shields up hard, a gross feeling taking root when it was too late.

Protect. Azriel’s intentions conveyed to you. Protect. Comfort. Provide. Here you were invading his private thoughts without his knowledge, while he was concerned with your wellbeing. What was the point of all that effort Rhysand put into teaching you how to better control your mental shields? It never worked when you needed it most. The failure stung, and you had to busy yourself with folding your dress in a neat square so you had something to keep your hands from shaking.

It was quiet for too long, and you struggled with recalling what he had said to you before you’d lost control. Something about the bed. "Sounds good to me." You decide on saying, placing your dress next to his leathers.

Azriel didn’t seem to find your reply out of the ordinary. Small mercies.

"I'll be out in a few minutes, then." His voice was rougher than before, and it sent chills down your spine. As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut you scurried into bed. You couldn’t get under the covers fast enough, pulling the blankets up to your neck with a hefty sigh of relief.

It felt awesome to be laying down after such a long evening on your feet. Too bad you couldn’t enjoy it more, instead drowning under waves of shame. Maybe you’d never get a full handle on your powers. Maybe the Mother was teaching you a lesson in this life? You couldn’t fathom what the moral could be. You wanted more than anything to be able to mind your business.

You wished you could turn your brain off. Alas, even your guilt couldn’t stop you from reflecting and organizing what you’d just observed. Not only had you heard his intentions, but you also felt them. Unlike the sweet warmth of his thoughts, his gaze had felt like desire and bad decisions.

He didn’t seem like he was actively seeking to bed you. You reasoned that you were also an available female wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. You could only imagine how all of that must have chafed against his Illyrian instincts. Rhysand had once mentioned that Illyrians were possessive and protective at best, controlling and jealous at their worst.

Surely those possessive instincts were what you were picking up on, then. You were covered in his scent after all. That was the only logical explanation for his reaction, his instincts were telling him to protect you because you were vulnerable and wearing his clothing. Even if it didn’t quite sound right to you, it was the only explanation you were willing to entertain. You were barely friends, there was no way Azriel wanted to court you. The thought sent a fleeting pang of disappointment through you that you refused to examine.

Whatever. There wasn’t anything you could do to make the situation less messy right now. You were exhausted, and stewing on scenarios that would never amount to anything real was unlike you.

Snuggling further into the sheets, you decided it was best to just pretend you hadn’t noticed shit. The damage was done, Azriel wasn’t dumb, he at least knew he had flustered you. You weren’t going to draw any more attention to that tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Everything about this night was a fluke.

Azriel returned from the bathroom, and you kept your focus on fluffing your pillows. Sitting up you tossed an extra pillow onto the floor, and you could feel as soon as his eyes landed on you that some of his…instincts…were still acting up. You pulled the comforter back up to your neck as he got into bed next to you. Turning on your side to face him you were determined to be normal. No more awkward gawking allowed tonight.

He stretched his arms up above his head, his joints popping a million times as he groaned in relief. You couldn't help chuckling at him, the fearsome Shadowsinger of the Night Court, doing something so mundane.

Scooting further onto the bed, Azriel rolled over to meet your gaze, his wings tucked close to his back as he settled. Most of his wingspan spilled over the side of the bed anyway. He surveyed you, eyes lingering along your tired but genuine smile, and you saw the stern tenseness slowly leave his body. "You sure you're comfortable with this?" He asked.

Your smile turned a tad warmer. This male was just so kind, so different from what you knew in Hewn City. "I am, I trust you Azriel." It was the truth. You didn't have friends growing up, and although you may have a long way to go before Azriel truly called you his friend, you considered him a dear (sexy) friend.

Your words seem to settle something in him, and you could have sworn you saw something almost affectionate flash across his face. You blink, and it's gone, but the fuzzy feeling it left in your chest remained.

Like he sensed your mushy thoughts, he ruined the moment. "So I have to ask you something, it’s serious.”

Your brows raised in bemused interest, the scenario with him wishing to court you snapping to the forefront of your mind again. He’d always been very attentive to you, but in a worried protective way. You’d never picked up on any romantic intentions from him before, and he’s not the type to make a decision like that on a whim. The chance was small, but you couldn’t 100% rule out him wanting to ask you out. Could you say no to him? Would you even want to say no? You’d never considered this as an option before!

He held your gaze, as if for dramatic effect and then with the seriousness of a top notch spymaster he asked you, “You have seen a shirtless male before...right?"

Maybe it was a mistake to consider this male kind, he was a menace all along.

You had never rolled your eyes so hard at someone. Unbelievable.

Turning away from him with enough force to toss your hair in his face, you are rewarded with the sound of his indignant grunt.

"Can you turn the light off please?" You snap, unable to rein in your annoyance. Unsettled by how it tasted almost like rejection.

"You didn't answer my question." He goaded, and you fell right for it.

"Yeah, because it's a silly question." You fire back.

He hummed at your response, "Doesn't seem like you think it's a silly question."

You would rather swallow your own tongue than admit to Azriel that you’d seen shirtless males, but he had been the first you’d enjoyed seeing shirtless.

Done with the line of questioning, you blindly flung your arm back, swatting at him. He startled at the contact, and he exhaled a scoff when you didn't stop flopping your arm at him after the first blow.

He caught your wrist, stilling your flailing. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it," He let go of your wrist, “for now.”

You shifted to burrow further into your pillows, totally not dwelling on how his big hand wrapped around your wrist made you feel dainty. The texture of his scars hadn’t made your heart skip a beat either. Nope. Not at all.

"Could you shut the light off please." You asked again with more venom than you intended. It bothered you how easy this male could get under your skin. He wasn’t even trying.

You felt his weight shifting, the bed frame squeaking a bit as he moved. "Anything for you, Princess." He shuffled a little more, and then the light went off, casting the both of you in darkness.

The nickname made you grimace into your pillow. No one had ever called you that before, and you really didn’t want it to catch on.

You felt him return to the position on his side facing you. Some moments passed in loud silence, and although you were the one that let the conversation drop, the residual tension in the room was killing you. There was no way you would be able to fall asleep, and you would bet that Azriel was stewing in the tension too.

"Az?" You whispered. His response was quick like he’d been waiting on edge for you to speak, "Yes?"

"Goodnight." And you found yourself meaning it. You hoped he got some sleep tonight despite the turmoil he had so effortlessly sowed in your stomach with his teasing. The prick.

You could practically hear the mischief in his voice. "Sleep well, princess."

Ugh. Your stomach coiled, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Very dangerous. It was an inappropriate reaction, and you wrote it off as stress. However as hard as you wished to forget it, you wouldn’t be forgetting how Azriel had made you feel that night anytime soon.

Even your racing thoughts couldn’t stop sleep from finding you, putting you out of your misery.

And if you woke up to the sounds of song birds that morning, your face pressed against Azriel's neck, your body sprawled atop him while he slept on his back, then that was your business. No one would know if you relished being in his arms a few minutes longer than necessary. You wouldn’t confirm nor deny if one of his hands had looped through a wing hole of his borrowed shirt, his fingers resting just under your breast.

And so what if it had been the best sleep you'd gotten since leaving Hewn City. And if Azriel seemed more well rested than usual on your return to the Night Court, you certainly didn't notice that either.

XxXx

Next Chapter

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hi, what kind of parent do you think Harry would be? (The cursed child does not count, for me it is not a canon)

Hi 👋,

I agree that The Cursed Child never was and never will be canon in my book since it destroys the characterization of literally everyone.

As for your question, I'd like to imagine Harry would be a good dad. I mean, he knew a childhood without love until he went to Hogwarts, so he's going to be a super loving dad. He's going to do everything the Dursleys didn't do for him and treat his children with so much respect and give them so much affection.

I think he'd also show them a bunch of children movies and games he never got the chance to experience, so he'd be excited about watching them too. Like, he'd live the childhood he didn't have through his kids a bit. He'd love taking them to McDonald's and the cinema, I just know it. But he'd also want them to experience a magical childhood and read them wizard children's books and such.

(I think whether his kids go to a muggle primary school or not would heavily depend on the other parent cause Harry could be convinced either way)

I also, think he'd take after Sirius a bit. The father-rule model Harry respected and trusted most is Sirius, so I think he'd try to be that person to his kids. Someone they can count on and go to with everything without feeling judged. He'd want to make them feel like real people and like their opinions mattered.

I think he'd be a reasonably fun parent, like, I see him playing Quidditch with his kids the moment they can fly a kiddie broom.

I don't see him bringing himself to discipline his kids too much (I just have a hard time imagining Harry sending his kid to their room, like, idk. Sometimes, that's necessary, but idk how Harry would be with that). The worst he'd do is probably give them a talking-to. He might shout a bit (cause he does have a temper), but if he does, he'd regret it instantly and beat himself up over it because he'd always be worried about coming off like Uncle Vernon. I think his main disciplinary method as a father would be the disappointed stare because I think he'd be so good at that intense stare filled with disappointment that makes his kids squirm.

I also imagine he'd be incredibly protective of his kids. Like, Harry is loyal and very protective over people he cares about, so he'd be like that with his kids, too. Threat them, and he'll let hell loose.

I'm just rambling, but these are some of the thoughts I have on the subject off the top of my head.

[musings-of-miss-j]

the magician and the sparrow

a lyney x reader fic

notes: fluff fluff soooo much fluff, lots of plot too though and a sprinkle of angst to taste, set in the canon genshin universe but follows a fictional turn of events, they/them pronouns used for reader but they do wear makeup/skirts

author's notes: this was so much fun to write i fear also please don't hate the closing scene guys i'm so bad at romance

word count: 7045 bc i am simply incapable of anything less

⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘

You and the other members of the wandering troupe were always awake at the crack of dawn, when the watery sunlight spilled over the edge of the horizon and dappled every surface with a splash of muted gold, when the earliest and most ambitious of birds let loose their melodic cries. Similarly ambitious and hardworking, the troupe’s grandmaster and magician extraordinaire Lyney personally barged into every compartment on the train to make sure the entire crew was ready for the ridiculously early rehearsal he’d insisted on carrying out. You were less than thrilled with the prospect; normally the troupe’s mornings consisted of checking on props and skimming lines over cups of coffee, while a full-on rehearsal brought about a set of much more trying procedures. Like putting on the finicky, elaborate costumes and doing bloody stage makeup.

You stifled a yawn as you threaded your corset with red ribbons, tailored to match the troupe’s current colour scheme of reds, teals and blacks, your fingers constantly missing the grommets and making you considerably frustrated. With a curse, you dropped the corset and ribbons and muttered a simple spell under your breath so it would lace itself up while you struggled with the sheer black tights you wore beneath your skirt. Really, it was a miracle none of the troupe members had killed Lyney for enforcing such senseless appointments, and you were stewing over the inconsiderate nature of his scheduling when he knocked against the doorway of your compartment as you wriggled into the corset and tightened the lacings. You shot him a withering glare through your ancient, gilded mirror while you applied a swipe of lipstain. He grinned back.

Lyney and Lynette had started the wandering troupe, now known throughout the lands as Cirque Extravaganza, when they were only fourteen years old. They were prodigies, plain and simple, and they’d built themselves a considerable reputation and a proper troupe to boot in the past few years. You were one of the oldest members. After running away from the overbearingly aristocratic  Lawrence family in Mondstadt you’d snuck onto their train and bartered with Lyney for passage to Inazuma; one of the rare moments where you appreciated your parents for forcing you to conduct political debates as a child. You were eleven years old on that fateful night when Lyney, only a handful of years your senior, threatened to throw you off the moving train. Now you were, and you quote, ‘an indispensable member of Cirque Extravaganza.’

“Lyney, I hope you’ve been told that you’re an utter ass for this,” you said, pulling on your gloves.

“By the nineteen other people on this train save for my darling sister, who called me a name I’d rather not relay in your presence,” he replied. He never really shrugged off the magician persona, you’d realised; even after a show, the instinct to sweet-talk and smooth over the rough edges of his words with fanciful phrases was always imbedded within him. A stark contrast to your own matter-of-factness; after spending a decade of your life weaving your speech with meaningless niceties you gladly embraced the chance to bluntly speak your mind.

“Your sister is the hero this troupe needs,” you muttered in response, sitting on the floor to lace up your shoes. They were probably your most prized possession after the diamond jewellery you stole from your parents when you ran away; the soles were carefully inscribed with a charm of balance to protect you on the tightrope, one of the first spells you’d ever written, and the laces you’d spun by hand from the finest spider silk that cost you a month’s worth of wages while chanting an invocation of grace that Lynette had taught you.

Well worth their weight in gold.

“Every day you awaken with the intent to wound my heart, it seems,” Lyney mourned. You didn’t miss the hint of amusement in his tone and the twinkling in his eyes; years of travelling and performing together left you as open to each other as books.

With a final tug, you tied the laces of your shoes into place. “Be grateful I only choose to wound it figuratively rather than literally.” You rose to your feet in a fluid motion that came as naturally as breathing, tipping the brim of Lyney’s top hat over his eyes as you walked past. He chuckled under his breath, watching you hop down from the train and scale onto the makeshift tightrope. The little clearing by the train tracks bustled with activity, from stunt performers swallowing swords, contortionists folding themselves into impossibly small boxes, vision holders shaping flames and water and crackles of lightning into beautiful patterns and illusionists practicing their tricks in front of mirrors, making horns grow out of their skull only to retreat moments after and pulling colourful handkerchiefs from their noses.

You stepped onto the tightrope and walked across it a few times to warm up, then began your newest routine while the mechanics of the troupe finalised the model stage. You heard Lyney’s voice calling out advice and instructions, Lynette close behind him tweaking costumes and props and correcting people’s forms as she strode past. They made a fantastic duo, and the Cirque Extravaganza flourished under their guidance. You used to wonder how a pair of fourteen year olds had such a remarkable grasp on magic and leadership, until on the night of Lyney’s eighteenth birthday when he got black-out drunk and revealed that this was part of their ‘training’ to become fully fledged members of the Fatui. You’d stared at him, slightly shocked but mostly worried that he wasn’t meant to reveal this information; to your dismay, he’d kept talking, explaining how their ‘Father’ adopted them before leaving them to fend for themselves once more to prove themselves worthy. He’d grabbed the ruffled sleeve of your old costume and pouted when you’d tried to leave before he could divulge anything more, and you found yourself powerless to resist his drunken pleas. You learned more than you’d wanted that night.

Now, a few years later, you sprinted across the tightrope with the troupe’s yelling and pacing back and forth stretched out below you. You heard Lyney release an ear-piercing whistle, and a flock of snow-white doves emerged from the trees, flapping their wings and chirping back at him. You paused mid-motion to watch them, frozen on the tightrope and eyes glazed with wonder; no matter how many times you saw Lyney pull this exact trick, you couldn’t help but be amazed. How you envied birds and their unfettered freedom; you could swing from a trapeze and dance across a tightrope all you wished, but you’d never have wings of your own to unfurl and take to the sky with. It brought a half-hearted, melancholy smile to your face as you watched the doves flutter across the achingly blue sky in perfect formation again under Lyney’s guidance. You still didn’t know how in Teyvat he’d managed to train them.

The rehearsal went off without a hitch. In everyone else’s opinion, at least; the troupe’s magician extraordinaire insisted that there were still a few wrinkles that needed ironing out. You had to resist the urge to throw your shoe at him when he asked why you did three flips in the air rather than four, and only refrained because they were too valuable to accidentally ruin.

“I’d like to see you stay in mid-air long enough to pull off four backflips,” you’d retorted, grumpy thanks to the post-session muscle pains. The dent in the back of your knees was redeveloping the mottled bruises that rarely faded from the press of the trapeze’s bar, and every inch of your body throbbed. You loved it. You hoped this would be the rest of your life.

“Ah, mon moineau, I’m but a humble magician!” He protested with a grin. “How could you possibly expect me to ever compete with your boundless grace?”

You groaned, lying back on the grass to stare up at the setting sun. Rehearsals were no joke; it had taken almost twelve hours.

“Shut up, Lyney. I’ll give you four flips onstage tomorrow. And a fist to your face right now if you don’t stop nagging.”

“So generous,” he replied, collapsing next to you on the ground. You watched the sky darken from blues to oranges to dusky purple, and he watched the same colours reflected in your eyes. Infinitely more beautiful than any sunset, he thought. The familiar snapping sound of his cards brought you out of your thoughtful stupor.

“Pick a card, any card,” he said in his stage voice, the one that oozed charisma and urged the listener to believe him, trust him and his magic. You reached over and pulled out a card from the deck without looking; this little ritual was something of a routine. While Lyney could easily find the card you picked with his magic alone, he liked to practice genuine sleight of hand in private, with you or Lynette. Lynette, while her magic wasn’t quite as flashy as Lyney’s, was much more skilled in sleight of hand than him and frequently criticised his technique. Sometimes Lyney just wanted a starry-eyed member of the audience to applaud him, and while you were resolutely unmoved by his charm he knew you enjoyed his little displays. So he graciously accepted your compliments when he correctly picked your card.

“The magician extraordinaire strikes again,” you remarked, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Yet he can never strike gold when it comes to what he truly covet; the heart of his beloved.”

You cackled unabashedly; that was definitely one of his cheesier lines. With a bracing smack to his shoulder, you rose to your feet.

“You’re losing your touch, old man.” You stretched your arms above your head, then loosened your hair from its elaborate up-do and made your way to the train before night could fall in earnest.

“You wound me so, ma cherie,” he said, putting on a rather good show of looking distraught. Still, the amused twinkle in his eyes didn’t escape you.

Lyney was a chronic flirt, plain and simple. You supposed it came with the trade; magicians were masters of deceit, after all, convincing the audience to see what they wanted them to see and nothing more. Such a philosophy could be applied to many other circumstances; he could make people feel wanted, desirable, with a few well-placed honeyed words. Besides, Lyney liked flirting. He found it amusing, an enjoyable and effortless little pastime that he frequently employed to get what he wanted, whether that be an additional attendant for the night’s show or a dance partner at the latest ball. So you didn’t take it personally; Lyney was a chronic flirt who could flatter the sky into being red if he so wished but still couldn’t get you to blush. It irked him greatly, your immunity to his charm; but it made you all the more attractive. He’d tried to  chalk it up to himself liking a challenge, and you presenting just that in the past; but deep down, he’d always known he wouldn’t be able to fool himself for much longer. Now the box of his feelings was starting to strain at the seams, and you still showed no signs of surrendering to his smooth, flattering whispers.

You smiled at him before sliding the door of your compartment shut. He was a goner. He’d been a goner for a long time, now, and Lynette took the liberty of appearing out of thin air to reinforce the fact.

“Lyney. Focus, you can’t afford to get distracted.” Twins they may be, in many ways Lynette was his polar opposite. Where he lured others into rooms of smoke and mirrors with his sliver tongue, Lynette was blunt and to the point, intimidating where Lyney was welcoming. Regardless, they employed different methods to achieve the same goal; trick the right people into doing what they wanted. Lynette raised her eyebrows in his direction. “Or confess and get it over with.”

Lyney sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Dearest sister. You make it sound so simple.”

“That’s because it is, and you’re just a coward,” she replied unapologetically, dragging him away. “Keep your head on your shoulders, this show is important.”

“Sometimes I forget I’m the older one because of how bossy you are,” he grumbled.

“Not my fault you don’t take initiative and live up to your position.”

He huffed and pinched her cheek until she slapped his hands away.

You slept like a rock and woke up to find the train on a new track; the one leading directly to Fontaine. Flinging open the window, you stuck your head out and relished the familiar sound of the turning wheels and grinding gears, taking in the sight of the lush countryside whizzing past. A contented sigh slipped past your lips, and you propped your elbows on the windowsill and your face in your hands to watch the rows of trees fade to clusters of bushes and miles and miles of flowers. A series of knocks on your door startled you out of reverie, and you grudgingly opened with it complete certainty of who you would find on the other side.

Lyney beamed down at you.

“Good morning, mon moineau.”

You covered your mouth with the back of your hand to stifle a yawn. “Morning, Lyney. When will we reach the city?”

“If old Jacques is right, then we should be eating the finest of Fontaine’s cuisine before noon.”

He was clearly excited; you could tell from the way he couldn’t stand still and the perpetual little smile on his face, one of the genuine upturns of his lips that weren’t merely for show.

“Someone’s excited,” you remarked, running a hand through your hair to tame the mess.

“Ah, can you blame me?” He chuckled, leaning against the entrance of your room. “Nothing compares to the Nation of Justice, truly.”

His enthusiasm was infectious, and you couldn’t help the little bounce in your step as you got ready. The show may have been hours away, but there was an infinite number of loose ends that needed to be tied before then. Lyney pulled his trademark deck of crimson cards out of nowhere, shuffling them back and forth absent-mindedly and exuding zeal and vigour; now that they were back in Fontaine, his father could perhaps see how far he and his sister had come. Maybe they’d finally be recruited into the Fatui. His heart hammered at the thought until his gaze landed on you, leaned over the shelf below your mirror and tying up your hair. A strand slipped out of the ribbon you were trying to tie it into, and he was seized by the urge to tuck it behind your ear. He would be forced to abandon the troupe if he was recruited. The thought had occurred to him, countlessly, endlessly, ceaseless and persistent and much more discomforting than he preferred; at some point between you mopping the floor with him in your very first argument where you bartered your way into the troupe and now, where he watched you get ready and predicted your next move without thinking from your tiny gestures and expressions, you’d wormed your way into his life and he wasn’t sure how he’d fare without you in it. The knowledge that you’d adapt without him just fine made it sting all the more.

“Lyney,” you said impatiently, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “Quit staring at me like I threatened to steal your wages.”

“Apologies, mon amour. I was entranced by your beauty.” Even after contemplating such a dizzying prospect as not seeing you again, complimenting you came so naturally. He firmly believed it was duty to do so, with how effortlessly you took his breath away.

“Flirt,” you muttered under your breath, half exasperatedly and half affectionately. It made his stomach swarm with butterflies and his brain cloud over with visions of you with him. Archons. You were ruining his life without even lifting a single finger.

“You know, getting to Fontaine was my initial goal when I ran away from home,” you remarked to his as you rummaged through the trunk of clothes by the foot of your bed. “I’m as far as I could possibly be from that life.” You tossed something in his direction, and he caught it without thinking. “I have you to thank for that.”

He opened his fist to reveal a delicate silver chain from which a teardrop shaped diamond hung. He looked up at you, incredulous.

“What… what is this?”

“A necklace, you numbskull,” you replied simply, pausing at the gilded mirror to brush away a smear of rouge from your face. You made your way to him, tugging him down by the frilled collar of his shirt to plant a kiss on his cheek. He was quite certain he caught a glimpse of Celestia when your lips touched his skin. “It’s my thank you. And your very late birthday gift.”

There really was no saving him.

“(Name), wait. You can’t- I can’t accept this.”

You laughed. Every last drop of his easy charisma had completely evaporated, leaving him hot and bothered and flushed to the tips of his ears. It was… cute.

“You think I’m stupid? You’ll be disappearing with your darling sister soon, won’t you?” You said, raising your eyebrows. There was a touch of glitter dusted across your cheekbone, probably from the previous day’s rehearsal. He wondered in a daze how it would look on his lips instead. “And once you’re gone, you’ll need something to remember the person you failed to charm by, no?”

“But- this is an heirloom,” he said, staring down at you. “You told me yourself.”

“Didn’t think you were so attentive.”

As if you could do anything without capturing his complete attention.

“Ma cherie, I-”

“Shut it, Lyney. Accept the damn gift. Maybe you won’t be whisked off after this show and you can sell it and treat yourself. Celestia knows you need a proper pair of stage shoes.”

He watched you disappear into the costumes compartment, utterly dumbfounded. Being  members of a circus, savings were worth double their value due to the erratic nature of the amount and timing of wages. You’d given him a genuine diamond necklace. As thanks. As a birthday gift. Something in his chest wouldn’t stop fluttering.

Fontaine was stunning in every sense of the word, from the meandering streams slicing through pristine strips of greenery to the towering buildings and bronzed mechanical arrays. You understood why Lyney loved it so much, and even Lynette was smiling to herself instead of her usual impassive expression. This show would likely be the grandest one yet; Lady Furina was well known for her love of dramatics and the troupe was eager to impress. Performers, you’d discovered when you became one of them, thrived off two things: an audience’s avid praise and the thrill of a perfect show, and the Cirque Extravaganza was indeed extravagant enough to cater to both. Your life had been a performance, before, but without the inherent whimsy of stage lights and silk curtains and the sheer ecstasy of doing something that made your head spin and heart hammer. You performed for your parents, for other nobles, and unwilling actor on a stage you wanted nothing more than to burn down; the next best thing was yelling a good few obscenities at the cast you so despised then leaping off it, which you wholeheartedly did when you ran away. Nothing, not even the saccharinity of a certain magician’s whispers, was sweeter than the knowledge that you’d well and truly escaped the life in which you were forced to fill a role you had no interest in. Freedom was a drug you unreservedly savoured, waking up on a circus train with its taste on your tongue as the engine huffed and puffed, a place where tattered silk and velvet adorned every surface and the scent of passion and perfume hung heavy in the air.

You and the troupe made a quiet arrival through the gates of the city. The grand introduction would come later that night, when Lyney would take to the stage, captivating the crowd with his magic and mesmerising them with his charm as you and your fellow performers offered tantalising glimpses of your own tricks and left them with dazzled expressions and gossip to last at least a month or two. The familiar buzz of anticipation rushed through your veins as you prepared for that night’s show, and you welcomed it with open arms. The troupe’s yelling, the clattering of props and the faint sound of the classical music Lyney and Lynette always played before a show for good luck formed the cacophony of a chaotic circus, the top floor of the Hotel Debord thrumming with excitement.

Lyney waltzed through the open door of your room, wearing the black and maroon outfit he’d recently acquired and a wide smile.

“Well, ma cherie? How are you feeling?” He asked, leaning against the vanity as you perfected your hair and stage makeup. Superstitious as you were, doing these touch-ups in front of a mirror that wasn’t the old, gilded one in your train compartment was a little unnerving. You were so accustomed to seeing the ornate golden roses frame your reflection, the plain steel of this hotel mirror was… lacklustre.

“How are you feeling, magician extraordinaire?” You countered with a teasing wiggle of your eyebrows. “Looking awfully dapper, that’s for sure.”

He hid his blush behind a gloved hand, laughing. “Why, thank you. I never thought I’d have the honour of bringing you to my homeland. It makes everything all the more delightful.” That was the problem with Lyney; try to tease him with a borderline flirtatious remark and he’d return it tenfold.

“Hope it’s delightful enough to get you through this show,” you said, slipping on your shoes. “Six hours onstage is nothing to turn your nose up at.”

He shifted just behind you to glance at his reflection in the mirror, adjusting his top hat. Out of habit, you reached up and nudged its brim over his eyes.

“It will be the grandest show we’ve ever put on,” he declared with a grin, readjusting the hat. You shot him an amused look.

“Grander than last year’s show during the summer festival?”

Lyney groaned, hiding his face in his hand. You cackled; it was considered taboo to mention that. It had been an utter fiasco.

“Ah, why must you remind me of that, ma cherie? Surely it’s bad luck to mention disastrous events before such an important show as this one.”

“Performers’ superstition,” you muttered under your breath.

“As if you don’t paint your nails red for good luck!” He returned with a chuckle.

“You’ve infected me,” you deadpanned, grabbing the bow on the back of his suit and dragging him with you to the door. You refrained from telling him that red was your lucky colour because it was his trademark, and Lyney was truly the first blessing fortune had bestowed upon you. No doubt he’d never let you live it down if he found out. “Let’s go, magician. This audience won’t dazzle itself.”

And of course, the troupe did indeed dazzle the audience. Cards and confetti flew through the air, vibrant smoke from coloured flames hovered over the crowd, kittens and tigers leapt through hoops and then exploded into clouds of glitter, all while the orchestra played a hauntingly beautiful melody that echoed unnaturally through the Opera Epiclese’s soaring hall.

You did a fair bit of soaring yourself, on your trusty trapeze from one post to another then bounding over the tightrope as though it were a bridge miles wide with the air rushing past you and ruffling your hair, the ribbons tied to your wrists and ankles streaming behind you.

Lyney’s grand finale involved a tenuous dance with Lynette while dodging various pyrotechnics that flared up at random intervals across the stage, stepping through a wall of fire then twirling Lynette into nothingness with a flick of his wrist. From the rehearsals alone, it promised to be a magnificent trick.

One problem: Lynette was nowhere to be found. Or at least, that’s what Lyney wanted you to believe as he watched you perfectly execute the four somersaults you’d promised him and land directly- in his arms?

This wasn’t right. How did Lyney intercept your landing? And so seamlessly, without a single hitch, for that matter? (Quite simple. He’d watched you obsessively every time you rehearsed, terrified you’d slip, fall, topple off the impossibly thin rope and down onto the unforgiving ground. Your pride would never allow for a net, so Lyney took it in his own hands to make sure he could be your safety measure if the need ever arose, to make sure he could protect you from your own determination, your own certainty that you were truly unconquerable while metres up in the air. Sometimes he half-expected wings to burst from your shoulder blades, other times he nearly tore his gloves into ribbons from how hard he clenched his fists, frozen with dread and surety that this time your grace would fail you, that your balance would never come and you’d be yet another body bleeding through the chapters of the book that was his life.) No matter. You were here now, on the stage with the golden lights bathing the two of you in warmth, and most importantly, every eye trained on you. If practice and repetition were the bread and butter of any artist, then as performers improvisation was the layer of jam, the extra sweetness and embellishment that set the art form apart; and now, in this unpractised, unrehearsed position with Lyney’s hands on your waist and the audience’s attention on you and the still-present hum of adrenaline from the tightrope in your veins, you exhaled and placed your hand on Lyney’s shoulder. The opening stance of the dance. His lilac eyes met yours, and you gave him an imperceptible nod. The orchestra swelled once more, and you let yourself relax, muscle memory from hours upon hours in the ballroom of your family’s estate taking over. A searing flame surged up from the floor, and you twisted to only just dodge it. Another pillar of blazing red, dangerously close to Lyney’s top hat; he swept into a bow, hat off, as though inviting you to another dance. You curtsied in response, and the same flame missed your hair by half an inch as your head dipped down. Crackling sparks behind you; Lyney pulled you to his chest. A roaring fire to your right; you led him in a slow, purposeful circle around it. Red, red, red, raging and hot; sweat dripped down the back of your neck and smoke tickled the back of your throat. The audience gasped and cheered as you deftly side-stepped every last flicker, the sound mingling with the roaring inferno and the distant music from the orchestra; a trumpet note here and a skilful bit of piano there, and most of all, Lyney’s off-kilter breathing and faint panting for air. His touch seared your skin, more scorching than any fire. With a final gasp, he lifted you above his head as a tower of sizzling fireworks exploded from where you’d stood a moment before. A last quivering chord from the violin. Lyney’s face just inches from yours, sharing the same smoke-tinged breath. For a brief, horrifying moment, nothing; a curtain of blackness so deep and impenetrable you almost feared you’d never be found again. You supposed this was the part where he made you disappear. Sensations rushed back. Dimly, the eruption of wild applause and his chest heaving against yours.

Archons, he wanted to kiss you so badly. He doubted a more tempting dilemma could ever be presented to him. Before he gave in and crushed his lips to yours, he pivoted on his heel and bowed to the audience with a flourish. You followed suit, and the stage was soon littered with flowers. You could discern Lady Furina’s voice, high and clear, shouting ‘Bravo! Bravo! Magnifique! Enchanteur!”

The greatest of all performances, indeed, thrown in hopes that his Father would witness their accomplishments and take them back. So why was he so relieved that he didn’t glimpse her piercing, unmistakable gaze throughout the whole show? Why could he think of nothing besides your glowing eyes, your features softened then sharpened by the fire, the scent of your perfume mixing with the smoke?

Backstage, you picked at the singed ribbons on your wrists and ankles while the rest of the troupe hurried about, exhausted down to the bone and ashes in your throat. Eventually you gave up on a particularly stubborn knot, leaning your head back against the wall and sighing, only for Lyney to appear at your side and work at the ribbon with his nimble fingers instead.

“Are you alright?” He asked, propping your limp wrist in his lap.

“What happened? Where did Lynette go?”

“Answer my question,” he replied sternly, pulling the ribbon off your wrist and tracing the veins there with his fingertips.

“Answer mine,” you immediately retorted, stubbornness flaring. He chuckled.

“If you’ve got enough energy to argue I suppose you’re fine.”

“Well?” You demanded after a brief pause where you simply sat together in tired silence. “What went wrong with your trick?”

Surprise crossed his face. “Went wrong? I thought it was perfect.”

You lifted your head to shoot him an incredulous look. His fingertips continued to trace the network of veins snaking across your wrist.

“Lyney. You know what I mean. I wasn’t supposed to be involved at all!”

“Maybe it was meant to be, then,” he suggested with a wink. You groaned, running a hand though your hair.

“It’s impossible for you to take anything seriously, isn’t it?” He was inclined to disagree. There was nothing he took more seriously than your safety and presence in his life.

“Is Lynette alright?” You asked next, curling up and leaning your weight against him, tiredness rapidly setting in. Lyney held very still, afraid to make a wrong move and have your comforting warmth removed.

“She’s… she’s fine. Making tea, I suspect.”

You hummed in agreement, resting your head on his shoulder. “You’re not a very comfortable pillow,” you remarked. “You should eat more.”

“Anything for you, cherie,” he all but choked out, desperately flustered by the way you’d draped yourself over him. He could acutely feel every curve and dip of your body pressed against his. Was death by overheating possible?

You grumbled, pinching his arm. “Shut up, this isn’t the time for flirting.” Any time was perfect for reminding you how wonderful you were and how much you meant to him. “And don’t try to catch me like that again, it scared me. You’re not supposed to interrupt my routine.”

“I apologise.” “Damn right you do,” you retorted, pushing yourself off him and stretching. There was a very unsavoury pain in your lower back, and you hissed as the tender muscle strained. “So.” You turned to properly face Lyney, crossing your legs beneath you and grinning. “Was your Father there? In the audience?”

You were determined to be supportive, to share his enthusiasm at returning to the Fatui, even if your heart wobbled strangely at the thought of him leaving. He faltered in the face of you excitement. Were you that eager to have him gone…?

“…No,” he finally replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. You misread the sudden disheartened sag in his shoulders and downwards tip of his mouth as disappointment, and rushed to somehow comfort him.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure word of your incredible performance will reach every ear in Fontaine. It’s only a matter of time,” you said, not unkindly. When his dejected expression didn’t budge, you sighed and pulled sharply at the bow on his shoulder to regain his attention. “Hey. Stop frowning like that. A pretty face like yours shouldn’t be ruined by premature wrinkles.” You didn’t tell him that seeing him so lost and hesitant made your stomach drop, or that the sight of his smile would bring one to your face. A magician who could make your heart disappear the moment he had it in his grasp didn’t need to know that.

“…Is it pleasing to you?” He murmured with a touch of his usual teasing, glancing back up at you while his fingers still lingered on your wrist, tracing an invisible pattern. “My face?”

“To me and every young lady within a five metre radius, I’d wager.”

“But especially to you?” Lyney pressed, smiling in earnest now. You had a terrifying way of doing that, flipping his emotions with nothing but a few sweet words from your lips, and he was quite happy to surrender his heart to your whims if it meant he could have these precious few moments where he could almost fool himself into thinking you reciprocated.

You sighed, turning slightly so you could lean your back against his side. It’d be better if he couldn’t see the way you blushed at your reply, so soft it was almost drowned out by the sounds of the troupe celebrating another successful show. “Yes, Lyney. Especially to me.”

(The troupe quieted down when they saw the two of you fast asleep backstage, propped against each other with your head on Lyney’s shoulder and his fingers loosely wrapped around your wrist. If several Kameras ran out of storage that day, then it was strictly an everyone-knows-except-you-two situation. The particularly adorable photos become a secret currency. Everyone wants the singular copy of the one where you’re both smiling gently in your sleep. Lynette smugly refuses to part with it.)

Life in Fontaine was so jarringly steady, an uninterrupted flow of café visits and wandering the countryside and tossing spare change into the Fountain of Lucine, fields of flowers and an endlessly blue sky forming a mild backdrop for picture-perfect moments. It was so different than what you’d grown accustomed to; the constant rush of being on the move, the train’s constant rumbling and puffing, haphazard memorabilia strewn across every surface and late night drinking and card games with the boundless night as your only witness. The first few weeks off the train find you and many of the other members with wobbly legs, unused to solid land rather than the shifting and swaying you were familiar with. Jokes about being akin to sailors are popular and repeated in every possible iteration during this time, and you were in such good spirits that you laugh at every single one.

As you’ve come to expect, the initial rush from yet another one of the Cirque Extravaganza’s triumphs in conquering a new stage quickly gave way to throngs of over-enthusiastic fans cropping up through the city streets, country roads and anywhere else you decided to venture. The little children are sweet and eager, and you regale them with clumsy attempts at sleight-of-hand when Lyney isn’t there, offering them flowers and candy that they gleefully accepted. Some, those who are sceptical about the validity of your skill, ask you to scale the nearest tree or lamp-post, or do a backflip, or some other trial to prove that you weren’t a fraud of some sort. You humour these requests, and any disbelievers leave in a state of awe with an autograph clutched in their hands. One girl, bolder than most with a grin bright enough to be on stage, asked for one of the ribbons you wore during the performance. Charmed by her confidence, you gave her the least singed one, and in that instance you also left with a piece of paper, one where she scrawled her address with a heart doodled in the corner. Lyney was oddly indignant when he found it, and sulked rather impressively all day until you dragged him to an ice cream parlour you’d heard word of even back in Mondstadt. It was, in a way, a tribute to your older sister Eula; the two of you would often daydream together about prancing freely about in a faraway place and eating desserts with no concern for etiquette or the reputation of your family. You wished you could share this experience with her, but she’d been adamant on staying and becoming a Knight. Although- you cut a glance towards Lyney, who’d ordered a blackberry and cherry mix that matched almost perfectly with the hues he was currently fond of wearing- this is nice too. You took the lift to the highest floor it could reach, then scaled the wall surrounding the city with considerable difficulty, ice creams in hand, to sit on the edge and admire the sprawling view of the water dotted with light from the stars.

Lyney hadn’t quite forgotten the overzealous advances you’d entertained, but being in your company in the City of Love, sharing laughter and smiles and anecdotes over treats every bit as saccharine as the affection he held for you was the most effective soothing balm against the sting of knowing your attention wasn’t solely devoted to him the same way his was to you. The moonlight helped, too; it added to atmosphere and greatly appeased his romantic side.

 (You stole glances at him when he wasn’t paying attention, tucking glimpses of his relaxed expression away in your memory. It was nice to see your Lyney every now and then, rather than the magician extraordinaire of the Cirque Extravaganza.)

You reached over to steal a spoonful of Lyney’s ice cream, and he swerved away to avoid you so energetically that he nearly fell off the edge of the enormous wall surrounding the Court of Fontaine. You grabbed the hood of his cape to steady him before he could tumble down to a painful death.

“Don’t go falling off after all the trouble I went to get us up here,” you said, amused, and Lyney huffed indignantly as you smugly ate the bite of ice cream you’d managed to steal from him.

“I doubt the fall would be half as painful as falling for you, mon amour,” he smoothly replied, even having the unparalleled audacity to shoot you a wink as if he hadn’t been on the precipice of his demise mere moments before.

“That’s it, I’m pushing you myself,” you deadpanned, kicking his foot with your own where they dangled off the edge.

“You’re all bark and no bite,” he accused with a laugh. “You couldn’t survive a day without me.”

You levelled him with an unimpressed look, lifting a spoonful of ice cream to your mouth.

“Every day you astonish me with your sheer arrogance.”

He grinned, leaning forward to emphasise his next words. “You didn’t deny it,” he pointed out in a slightly sing-song voice. “Admit it, cherie.” Lyney’s heart hammered dizzyingly loud in his ears. This felt like such dangerous territory to tread, perched as high off the ground as you made him feel. Should he retreat, let your delicate waltz of quips and flirtations go on?

“Admit what?” You replied, trying to sound dismissive but failing when your breath caught in your throat as he inched closer. Surely you only felt dizzy because of the height. Surely it wasn’t because Lyney’s eyes refracted into a hundred shades of violet, stars reflected in their surface, or because he was so close a strand of his hair brushed your cheek. “You make it sound as if I’m a criminal on trial, about to plead guilty and confess.”

“Maybe you should confess,” he breathed, lifting his hand to your face. You watched his movements raptly, heart racing. “Archons know you’re guilty of stealing my heart, mon moineau, and there’s nowhere for you to fly away and evade your charges.”

Words died on your tongue when his knuckles brushed gently across your cheek, and your heart fluttered like the sparrows he was so fond of comparing you to. This wasn’t like his usual flirting, you distantly realised. He was seriously asking you to confess. His fingers twirled a strand of your hair before tucking it behind your ear, bringing you closer by the nape of your neck. You frowned at him.

“I am not verbally admitting to liking you in this lifetime.” He looked so crestfallen you could almost laugh. “They do say actions speak louder than words, though,” you added with a whisper, then carefully leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. Lyney, to his credit, quickly recovered from his initial surprise and the overwhelming fact that you tasted like ice cream, then made shockingly swift work of trying to deepen the kiss by grazing his teeth along your lower lip, to which you responded with a choked yelp and jumping away. You couldn’t possibly fathom the effort it took not to grab you and drag you back to continue where you left off.

“Archons, Lyney!” You hissed, out of breath and red-faced, fingers carefully pressing against your tender, swollen lips. Lyney subconsciously licked his own at the sight, completely and utterly devoid of any semblance of shame, in awe of how the moonlight set you aglow. He marvelled at how easily it was to exasperate you as one of his hands moved to your waist, trying not-so-subtly to bring you closer again.

His grin could only be described as self-congratulatory. “What?” He asked, not even bothering to feign innocence. Before you had the chance to heatedly respond, he swooped in to peck your cheek, then your lips, flustering you all over again.

“The one time I try to be romantic and you ruin it by being greedy,” you lamented, shooting him a joking glare.

“You’ll have plenty more chances to be romantic in the future, amour,” he replied with a grin. “Just kiss me for now.”

“So demanding,” you breathed. “What makes you so sure there’ll be future chances, hm?”

“Come now,” he coaxed, tilting your chin up just so. “You know you can’t resist me.”

“Shut up, you arrogant magician,” you grumbled, then silenced him with your lips on his, because maybe, just maybe, he was right.

⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘ ⸝⋆ .* ⚘ ⋆*⋆⸜ ⚘

[lokisprettygirl]

Rain to his Fire (Modern! Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon 80s Au) (18+)

Read chapter 10 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 11

Summary: Amidst the eerie atmosphere of King's landing you find a moment of peace and pleasure with Daemon.

Warning: 18+, smut, crude language, description of Statutory rape, discussion of mental health (it's a fic based in a mental health facility), mention of child molestation, mention of physical assault, the fic would contain several mentions of several disorders like mpd, did etc, if something triggers you don't read, smoking,

The sound of the vacuum cleaner whirring was what awakened him from the slumber.

As he sat up in bed, with his eyes half-open and brain still foggy from sleep, he became aware of a familiar sound. He propped himself on his elbow and stared at you for a moment, your hair was tied up neatly in a bun and he felt as if you were somehow getting prettier every day or perhaps he was just starting to like you more and more everyday.

“You are staring” you mumbled as you turned your head to look at him, a soft smile apparent on your face.

“Just observing to see if you'd argue with me today” He mumbled, voice still groggy from the sleep only made him sound sexier than usual, there was a stupid smirk on his face so you rolled your eyes before you looked at the door as if to assess if anyone was out there. Then you placed the vacuum cleaner down to walk towards him.

“Well we didn't do anything dirty last night so the curse isn't in motion yet” you mumbled, playfulness dripping from your tone and he couldn't help but smile.

“I copped a feel..does that not count?” He said, making you sigh in response, in order to protect your uniform from getting wrinkled you grabbed the hem of your dress and climbed the bed slowly

“I thought you were looking at me because I looked pretty or something”

He pursed his lips as you said that, before he wrapped one of his palms around your lower back, gently caressing the small of your back with his fingers.

“Wasn't that given? Do i have to tell you how beautiful you are everytime I look at that pretty face with those puppy doe eyes and fuckable mouth?”

Your face flushed at the response, you were not used to a man talking to you this way, as you leaned down to peck on his lips he placed his hands around your face to grab you firmly.

“No. I wouldn't want you to lie to me all the time” You made a deprecating joke and it certainly didn't sit right with him because his fingers had immediately clutched around your scalp, the gesture quickened your breaths and there was a burning fire in your loins all of a sudden. Your body always responded to his touch in such a manner, you didn't know how he had been the only man to ever make you feel this way, you didn't think such feelings even existed at all, being with him felt surreal at times.

He then flipped you around on the bed so you were underneath him.

So much so for the wrinkles you thought.

“Someone can storm inside-” you interjected but he placed his thumb over your lips, eliciting a tantalizing gasp from your mouth instead.

“I'd know.. don't bother about that” he assured but you still worried about being caught especially by Viserys.

“Mmmm last time we almost got caught and you had to pretend to choke me” you reminded him and his brows furrowed as if he was offended by the insinuation.

“I was distracted by your breasts”

“I had clothes on”

“Your nipples were poking me” he spoke shamelessly.

“You're so dirty”

“Absolutely depraved”

As he leaned down to kiss you and your lips touched, you felt an electric spark running through your body. Without hesitation, your arms wrapped around his neck, and your fingers started to caress his scalp, igniting a deep and animalistic growl from him.

“Why did you become a teacher?” you asked as he kissed down from your jawline to your neck. He looked up at you as he wasn't really expecting such a question first thing in the morning.

“Your timing is awful, ever been told that?”

“Tell me I'm trying to get to know you silly” he chuckled as you said that before he shifted to your side and propped himself on his elbow to stare at you.

“So I could yell at the bunch of insufferable young adults and give them poor grades” he answered earnestly but you didn't really believe him even though it's something you could imagine him doing.

“That sounds like you and that's exactly why I don't believe it”

“Why do you think I did that?” He asked as his brows raised in intrigue.

“Mmmm because you had spent your life lacking guidance and having no one to tell you that you were doing a good job, and that you will be okay and perhaps that is what pushed you to do this for others” you said to him and he was silent for a moment before he let out a deep laughter.

“Ever considered being a shrink?”

“Huh? Am i mentally unfit or a shrink? be decisive” you smiled as you slapped on his chest lightly and got off the bed to finish your job.

“You can be both..why are you here? In this insane place?” he asked, his tone was no longer playful so you sighed.

“Well I tried to do a bunch of things out there and nothing worked out and then my mum died so I just ran to the place she had spent most of her time” you huffed as you finished your sentence as if you absolutely loved your life here. It was far from the truth, sure you enjoyed the stability but it always left you feeling empty, before Daemon had arrived you had no excitement about this life you were living.

“You're comfortable here, comfortable is boring sweetheart, sooner or later you'd lose your mind here” he said to you so you shrugged in response.

“Well I'm fine here, it's not as if I have someone out there waiting for me”

He shook his head as you said that but before he could say anything else you were reminded of the book Corlys had shown you.

“There's something I need to show you..the librarian Corlys, he found a book about the otherworldly creatures and it mentioned the half dragon half human ummm things like you.. they're called dracosapiens..you should check it out” you spoke hurriedly and you could see the confusion written all over his features.

“I have never heard of such a thing in my life sweetheart, and I would know..i have researched a lot..” he responded, he had been searching for the truth of his heritage for as long as he could remember and he had never come across such a book.

“Well it's there, I saw it with my own eyes..it had the drawing of a man that was half human and half dragon, same as you have described yourself to be and a picture of a baby with scales and wings” his brows crinkled again as you said that and he couldn't help but be curious about this finding of yours.

“Can you bring it to me?” He asked you as politely as he could so you nodded in response, you really wanted him to find out more about who he was and you knew that book had some answers for him.

As you stepped out you sighed deeply as you had to tidy up Caroline's room and the resentment you felt for her probably wasn't warranted because she actually hadn't done anything to you but just the mere knowledge that she wanted to sleep with Daemon made you feel extremely jealous. However as you stepped inside you saw her bundled up on the bed crying and you felt slightly guilty about your thoughts.

“Are you alright?” You asked her, your time came out formal and impersonal.

“Yeah I'm just hormonal” she answered as she sat up and wiped her tears so you hummed in response and got back to your duty..

During lunchtime as you walked towards the cafeteria, you felt a chill creeping up to you, it had been raining heavily for the past two days and as much as you enjoyed the weather, it had surrounded the building of King's landing like a dark cloud, making it appear gloomier than it usually was.

You didn't ask a follow up question as you didn't really want to have an intimate conversation with her.

You saw Shyla in the pantry and there was a bruise on her neck that she was trying to cover up with a scarf constantly. When asked she got very defensive and refused to talk about it, you were left puzzled by the whole situation. So much has been happening in the center since Daemon had arrived or maybe you had been blind and detached to all the weird happenings until he came around and opened your eyes in a way. He wasn't wrong when he said that you had gotten comfortable here.

You saw Daemon in his usual spot but Caroline wasn't accompanying him today so you walked towards him and stared at him for a moment before you looked around to make sure nobody had eyes on you two.

“Where is Caroline?” You asked him so he chuckled in response.

“How would I know?” he answered nonchalantly and you couldn't help but fidget with your fingers.

“Well..She's your friend”

“Yeah and that's it, I don't keep a record of her whereabouts” he raised his brow bones as he responded and his indifference would have made you feel good about their friendship but something about the way Caroline seemed this morning had bothered you.

“Well I ..I saw her crying this morning and she seemed really distressed, maybe you should check on her…as a friend” he chuckled again as you said that.

“What's gotten into you? Two weeks ago you were calling her a whore and what not”

“Well I got swept up in my personal feelings and forgot that I'm supposed to be her companion, she's a patient here too..it must not be fun” he sighed as you said that.

“Fine I'll check up on her but promise me you won't make this a thing that will make us argue again” he pleaded with you as he didn't really want to fight with you today for any reasons whatsoever.

“Boy I'm literally asking you to go comfort her” you said to him so he leaned back in his chair and gave you a smirk.

“Don't talk to me like that” he said to you, his tone had a sense of warning.

“Like what?”

“Like you're my mommy, I don't need a mommy” he spoke firmly and you were going to tell him that you weren't trying to act like one but the look on his face made you want to mess with him further.

“Perhaps you do sweet boy” you smiled and turned around to leave before he could retort.

That evening after your shift ended you went to the library to get that book from Corlys but he informed you that the book was no longer with him.

“What do you mean?” You asked him so he sighed in exasperation.

“It's not here anymore, I checked the shelf where I had discovered it originally but it's been missing since last week” your heart sank as he told you that. You really wanted Daemon to have a look at it and now the book being missing wasn't a good sign, it meant that somebody was trying to keep it away from him.

“That's a bummer…do you happen to remember the name of the writer?’ you asked him so he shook his head in response but then he looked at you intently, his answer only grew your confusion regarding the whole situation.

“That's what stumps me the most, there was no mention of the writer, I had looked carefully”

Dr. Viserys was away on a conference so in the evening you decided to go see Daemon and tell him about the missing book, another mystery that you couldn't solve. Well not really though, you had your bet on Viserys and he seemed like the only one to do such a thing, besides the doctors were the only ones aside from the library staff that had the access to the library during off hours.

As you made your way towards Daemon's room, room 392, the one Caroline resided in was slightly azar, and you couldn't help but look. You stopped in your tracks as you saw Daemon hugging Caroline, her back was turned to you and Daemon glanced at you and gestured for you to go to his room, to which you responded with the shake of a head and eye roll.

You went inside his room and sat down on the bed to wait for him. A few minutes later he entered and locked the door.

“What's with you and not wearing a shirt anytime of the day?” You asked him as he walked towards you but he instead of answering he picked you up by grabbing the sides of your waist as if you weighed nothing. Your legs were dangling in the air so you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Does it bother you?” He asked as he turned around and walked with you until he had you positioned on the dresser.

“Would it bother you if I was hugging other men wearing just a bikini?” his jaw clenched as you said that, just the thought of other men putting their hands on his pure untouched girl sent him into a fury.

“Point noted”

He pressed his head between the crook of your neck and sucked a mark which elicited a soft moan from you.

“The book is missing from the library Daemon..I don't know where it is but it's gone” You whispered in his ear so he looked up and cupped your cheek. He wasn't really surprised, if such a book existed then he knew Viserys won't let him have it easily.

“Hmmm who would do such a thing i wonder” he chuckled.

“Viserys?”

“Who else? You said the book had some lore about the dracomen-”

“Dracosapiens” you interrupted him so he tilted his head “continue” you nodded in affirmation so he smiled and pecked your lips tenderly before he continued,

“Perhaps Viserys found out that the book was taken by someone and he felt threatened,”

“Do you think he would keep it in his office?”

“I can't be sure why?”

“Well perhaps we can get in there since he's not here and look for it” your suggestion immediately made him disagree with this foolish plan.

“That's very dangerous for you darling, you could get fired or worse” he spoke as he caressed your cheek and you couldn't help but smirk.

“Awn look at you..you're soooooo worried about me”

“Quit with the jesting..i can't allow you to do this for me” you sighed as he really seemed adamant about it even though it had seemed like a good idea to you. Viserys's office was locked in his absence but thanks to the trips you had taken with your mom as a child, you knew where you'd find the duplicate keys.

“How else would you learn the truth? You have been here for three months now and you have learned nothing about this thing that has bothered you all your life” you huffed a little so he gave you a mischievous smile.

“I did find you so that's something” he rubbed your cheek with the back of his fingers as he spoke and he felt the instant warmth his words had brought to your skin.

“Stop trying to fluster me”

“Shut up and kiss me woman”

You cupped his cheeks as a smile escaped your lips, then you kissed him as passionately as you could, you could feel yourself getting better at this, the longer you kissed him the more sensuous you became. His fingers curled into your hair as he pulled you closer to him.

“Am i good at kissing?” You asked him so he raised his brow, pulled away slightly and stared at you.

“Why are you asking?”

“Because when we break up i would like to do it right with the next man I'm smooching” the look on his face would have terrified you if he was some other man but with him you always had this belief that he'd never hurt you.

“Are you trying to piss me off?” he asked with his jaw clenching and teeth gritting in a harsh manner.

“Maybeeeee” You looked at him for a moment before you kissed him again, running his fingers over your back he pulled you even closer to him if that was possible.

“What's wrong with your friend?” you asked another question and you could tell he wasn't in the mood for talking at the moment.

“The only thing wrong in this place is apparently my brother..”

“What did he do to her?” you asked softly, worry apparent in your tone.

“He fucked her ofcourse” your eyes widened in shock as he said that but then you remembered how he had fooled Tanya.

“That's .. illegal..I think it is..she's under his care”

“Hasn't stopped him before” you opened your mouth to say something but you felt speechless for a moment.

“Do you think he killed Tanya? Perhaps she found something she shouldn't have-”

“I don't know – I don't want to talk about it”

He latched his lips on yours to shut you up for good this time and unzipped your dress to lower it down slowly over your shoulders, making your breath hitch in your chest, if you knew he was going to do this you'd have put on a fancy bra and matching panties.

“What are you doing?” You asked him firmly but your voice came out all squeaky and whispery like a mouse.

“Putting the curse in motion” you would have rolled your eyes at the response if they were not already in the back of your head to begin with “Hips up sweetheart” he asked you, well no, he commanded you so you pressed your palms into the dresser and lifted yourself up so he could lower down the dress, he let go of the fabric and you heard the sound of it falling down on the floor.

Holding your cheeks possessively he planted a wet kiss on your lips before he trailed them down slowly, as his palms cupped around your breasts, a strangled moan from your lips made his cock hard and warm, begging to be touched but this wasn't about him or his pleasure, it was about him making you a slave to his touch, there was no questioning that his intentions were pure when it came to the object of his dreams and fascination but it didn't stop him from wanting to ruin this untouched woman in front of him.

One of his arms snaked around your waist and he pulled you closer to the edge of the dresser before his other hand slipped inside your wet soaking underwear, his mouth never left yours even though the ministrations of his running digits made you want to scream and cry in budding pleasure.

“Daemon–” you moaned his name as your fingers clutched around the edge of the dresser tightly.

“Do you want me to fuck you someday darling?” He asked unabashedly so you stared at him for a moment.

“I ..don't know “

“Perhaps this would give you a clarity” as he finished his words his middle finger slipped inside you, making you squeal in response, it didn't hurt, not really but it felt intrusive, on occasions you had tried to put your own fingers in there but as soon as you had slipped barely an inch inside you always backed out because it didn't feel good, it made you feel uncomfortable but you definitely never had it as deep as his finger.

Your seeping cunt made it easier for him to pump in and out slowly, he had such long slender fingers and you were going to ask him to pull it out but then he curled his finger inside and you almost lost consciousness, you had no idea what he had done but you felt a familiar sensation building in the pit of your stomach as his digit brushed against the spot deep in your core.

“Daemon i..oh god” you raised your hands up and held onto his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin, head pulled behind as you couldn't help but squirm like a fish out of water.

“That's your sweet spot darling, didn't even know of its existence until now did you?” He whispered in your ear so you shook your head in response. Your eyes teared up as you had never felt something so intense like this before.

“Should have found you earlier sweetheart, a dripping mess of a cunt like this deserves to be pleasured every night, what a waste huhh?” His words only added fuel to the fire that was consuming you at the moment, making your thoughts spiral, you imagined yourself meeting him in your early twenties or even younger, having him show you what actual sexual attraction felt like and how divine it could be to experience this.

Placing his head between the crook of your neck he sniffed deeply before his teeth grazed over the soft skin, a part of him wanted to lose control but another held back for your sake, for once in his life he wanted to not be so selfish and only think about himself.

“Do you want me to fuck you someday sweetheart, have my cock deep inside that chaste little cunt hmm?” He asked again, his tone laced with arrogance this time around as he already knew what you'd say.

“Yess..yess ..I want it..oh god I want it” your own voice sounded foreign to your ears, the whimpering and moaning came so naturally that you were taken aback by the sudden awakening of your sexuality.

“Good girl..cum for me now”

It was as if a switch had been turned on at the command of his voice, your thighs shut together, entrapping his hand between your legs as your body broke down completely, he had made you cum twice now and both if those experiences had been vastly different from each other.

All you could do was chant his name like a mantra as the orgasm rippled through your core like a swirling tide, you were pretty sure that you'd have fallen apart if he wasn't holding onto you so protectively.

As your breathing leveled after what had felt like hours, you stared at him with a drunken hazy look in your eyes and he kept his eyes on yours as he pulled his hand out of your underwear and licked his slicked finger clean.

“I need to use the washroom” you mumbled softly so he gave you a smile and stepped away from you. He could smell the post orgasmic embarrassment reeking from your every pore and he wasn't surprised by that. A woman like you that had never indulged herself with this part of her life was bound to have some apprehension and confusion.

“Can you pass me the dress?” You asked him as you looked everywhere but at him so he bent down and picked the dress off the floor but instead of handing it to you he helped you to put the dress on in the same manner he had undressed you. Your underwear was ruined so you knew you'd have to get out of it sooner than later

“I'll be back in a minute” you mumbled as you walked past him and went into the bathroom to disappear in there. You had asked for a minute but it has been a good fifteen minutes so after contemplating for a moment Daemon walked towards the door and knocked.

“Hey come out ..alright?” He told you firmly so you washed your face, took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Sit down” he told you so you sat down on the bed with no arguments whatsoever.

“Talk” he bent down on his knees as he spoke softly, his fingers playing with your hair in order to comfort you.

“Stop touching me..I can't concentrate when you're touching me like that” he couldn't help but smile at the squeaky inflection of your tone but he obliged nonetheless.

“Okay talk now”

“I was overwhelmed..that is all”

“I'm sensing a feeling of guilt..why is that?”

“Because it's .. unethical, you're a patient and I'm supposed to take care of you, support you and be your companion and -’

“You're doing all those things.. darling..don't overthink, i like you alot..and you? Well you tolerate me -”

“I like you too Daemon..more than i would like to admit” he smiled as he held your cheeks and pulled you closer to kiss you.

“Quit worrying then, we are doing nothing wrong..not a thing I promise, everything is good” You wrapped your arms around his neck to hug him, his burning skin always comforted you in an odd manner.

“I should go” you mumbled somberly so he nodded, as much as he didn't want you to leave he knew it was a growing risk and he wanted to keep you far away from the suspicious eyes of Viserys.

“Darling”

As you were about to open his door to step out he called your name so you turned around and gave him a smile.

“Mmm?”

The kind of smile that would be seared in his memory for days to come. He approached you and placed his arms around you to kiss your forehead before he spoke.

“You'd have me out there”

“What?” you looked at him perplexed so he kissed your forehead again.

“I'm going to get out of here sooner or later and if you ever decide to leave this forsaken place you'd have me out there waiting for you”

Your eyes teared up as he said that, he wasn't an overly emotional man from what you could tell but once in a while he did say things that made your heart flutter and warm so you leaped up and kissed him fervently to show him that you were absolutely delighted by the proposition.

“What would I do out there?”

“Anything you want darling, anything you want out there is yours for taking, I'd make sure of it” he mumbled as he caressed your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“You're being too sweet..back off” he chuckled as you said that.

“There's my girl”

Daemon had a feeling about you tonight, for some reason he didn't want to let you go, he wanted to keep you right here where he could see you, where you were protected and safe in his arms but he had no right to ask for such a thing. However he truly wished he had followed his instincts that night because next morning when he woke up and you didn't come to his room during your assigned time he knew something wasn't right.

His fears were not baseless as when he stepped out of his room, he found the entirety of king's landing in commotion. The presence of Criston Cole only intensified the feeling so he approached the man and glared at him.

“What's going on?” Criston rolled his eyes as Daemon questioned him with such audacity.

“Mind your business ..you'd be called for an inquiry” he answered nonchalantly but it only made Daemon furious.

“What the fuck is going on Christmas” Daemon grabbed his collar and Criston had to push him away with force as he didn't want to create a scene in the middle of the hallway. Anger was dripping from his voice as he approached Daemon and leaned into him,

“Not that it is any of your concern, unless ofcourse you had something to do with it” He chuckled a little before he finished his sentence and confirmed what Daemon had been dreading

“Y/n y/l/n has been missing since last night”

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Taglist

@anukulee @ammo23 @littledark11 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @daenny-t @avalyaaa

[yourmomxx]

Sweet Child O’ Mine

father of mine masterlist

summary: It’s time for Dean to face what he has been so afraid of the entire time. Meanwhile, the monster that has already taken one young man’s life, is on its way to claim the next one

warnings: canon violence, child abandonment, swear words, angst, daddy issues, character death, throwing up, this is written like an episode of Supernatural

word count: 11,2k (whoops)

disclaimer: What I know about Group Homes is what I know from my country (and Google), so I apologize if I made any mistakes

pt1 pt2 pt3

@psycho-magnotheric-slime

Now

The cafeteria was loud. The mixed noise of talking children and clattering dishes and cutlery filled the air, creating a yet bearable loudness.

You were sat at one of the light blue tables, across from you your best friends Cassandra Claire and Finnegan Beckett.

Cass and Finn.

She was lowly cursing at the paper straw in her apple juice box and a few strands of her black bangs slipped into her view. The wolf cut, which had been so present a few months ago, was now already grown out and even the shortest strands of Cass’s hair were reaching her shoulders.

Finn seemed caught up in his own world as he carefully laid out little figures and symbols with his french fries. He still had a few, slightly red acne spots lingering on his skin, amongst freckles covering his nose and cheeks. His hair was flaming red, just as Roy’s had been, but other than him Finn usually hid the tousled locks under a cap.

Roy. The news of his death had hit the three of you hard. You had been a friendgroup of four, Roy and Finn, and Cass and you.

Almost a week ago you had been eating lunch at this exact table, the seat to your right had been taken, laughing about terrible jokes, bickering, and not even considering it all to end as soon as it did.

And especially how it did.

Roy’s body was still lying at the morgue. The authorities had kept it there for ‘further investigation purposes’ as they had said, so no funeral had been possible yet.

Of course, the adults had introduced all of you to helping hotlines and offered their own support in case anyone wanted to talk about their feelings and their grief in the safeness of a closed room.

Not that one of you took that into consideration.

The only way you three were coping with the whole situation was through joking around and pretending none of it ever happened. Which was fine.

You and Cass had sometimes talked in the darkness of your rooms, careful and short conversations while sleeping over because neither of you wanted to spend the night alone.

But other than that? Zero. And it was alright that way. The right moment would come.

Maybe.

“Aha!” Cass suddenly yelled out triumphantly, and startled Finn out of admiring his artwork.

You looked up at her from half-heartedly poking around in your own food, as she proudly held up the apple juice that was now pierced with what looked like the abused version of a thin straw.

You gave a small clap. “Bravo” and she grinned at you before turning to Finn.

Well done, Cassie,” he sarcastically said. “You won the hard fight against the opening of a box of apple juice.”

Cass pouted and took a sip. “You don’t appreciate my victories enough, Finn. And don't call me that. Cassie.” She dramatically shuddered at the nickname.

“I’m mentally unstable, not five.”

Finn examined her perfectly done eyeliner and makeup with skeptically raised eyebrows. “You don’t look mentally unstable to me,” he remarked.

Cass gasped. “Excuse me? Prejudices??” She exclaimed.

“You see that?” She asked, frantically pointing at her face. “See how perfect my makeup is today? That's not a good thing, dumbass! Perfect makeup means that I am absolutely mentally fucked!”

You nodded supportively, and Finn just raised his eyebrows, before he dedicated his attention back to poking around in his food.

“Don't you think that's kind of ironic?” He pointed out, and Cass simply ignored him, except for the tiny eye roll she gave.

“Guys, I need your help deciding what color I'm going to dye my hair next,” she changed the topic instead and desperately ran her hands through her hair.

Finn’s head whipped around, back to his friend. “You're honestly thinking about dying your hair right now?” He asked incredulously.

She groaned and threw him a look.

“No, Finnegan, I am not actively thinking about dying my hair, but I sense a mental breakdown coming and if I'm going to absolutely lose my shit and take it out on my hair, I want the result to look good. Otherwise, we are met with that weird yellow-green-combination again.” Cass let her body shudder dramatically.

“I liked the yellow-green-combination,” you interjected.

Cass reached over the table to lay her hand above yours and looked up at you with sweet eyes. “Thanks, hun.”

“I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it,” mumbled Finn, his mouth stuffed full of fries. “Just leave them black.”

“I don’t think you quite understood how a mental breakdown works, man,” you said.

Finn shrugged and dipped a frie into his ketchup. “Whatever.”

You looked at Cass. “I’ll go shopping with you soon and then we will choose a color together,” you promised.

“Thanks,” she said and eyed Finn, “at least someone who cares if I ruin my good looks or not.”

But Finn didn’t hear her, or maybe he just ignored what she was saying. Because he changed the topic.

“Did the FBI agents get a hold of you guys yet?” He suddenly asked.

Your eyebrows shot up in confusion. “The what?”

“The FBI agents,” Finn repeated.

“Why, thank you, I got that part, but what is the FBI doing here?”

Cass just shrugged her shoulders. “Apparently they are here investigating Roy's murder.”

“What, they think someone murdered him?” You asked in disbelief.

“Well, he will not have crushed his ribs all on his own now, will he?” Finn drew a heart shape with the remaining ketchup on the plate.

“It's better than the state police,” retorted Cass, “who still think that it was some kind of ... animal attack.”

You snorted. “Yeah, right, because a bear sneaking into a castle, pushing down on someone's chest and then just leaving seems so plausible.”

Your friends raised their eyebrows in agreement.

“What did they ask you guys?” You closed your waterbottle and absentmindedly started cleaning up your plate.

Cass shrugged and leaned back in her chair with crossed arms. “Not much, the usual, I guess,” she answered, “Wanted me to tell them some things about Roy, his behavior lately, who would have wanted to hurt him…” She trailed off.

“Same here. Routine stuff,” Finn said. Then he leaned a bit closer and lowered his voice.

“To be honest, I don't really care why they're here, they are both incredibly handsome.”

“Finn!” You and Cassandra exclaimed at the same time.

“What?!” The boy widened his arms in defense. “Let me enjoy the one good thing that came from Roy's death.”

Cass shoved him in response. “God, you are a manwhore!” She grumbled.

Finn rubbed his arm with an offended pout on his lips and you giggled. “Geez, we must seem so fucked up, our best friend got murdered and here we are, joking about his death.” You shook your head lightly.

“It's what he would have wanted.” Cass scooted a bit closer on her seat and took both yours and Finn’s hand in acted solemnity.

“If I die,” she vowed, “you are now officially allowed to joke about my death as much as you want. On any occasion.”

“Sick!” You called out and Cass smirked.

“Can we please get back to the part where she said if?” Finn pointed out.

Cass rolled her eyes and pulled back.

“I'm a witch, after all,” she reminded him with a threatening silken voice that had a tone of mockery. “And one day, I will figure out the secret of necromancy, just you wait.”

Finn scoffed and grinned. “Right, you with your crystals, and your smokey sticks and your herbs and tarot cards.”

He wiggled his fingers in front of her face. “That's some real serious stuff you got there, Cass.”

She pushed him away. “Yeah, keep making fun of it. We'll see who has the last laugh when I turn immortal and outlive all of you idiots.”

Finn shook his head. He looked at you and pointed his forefinger to his temple, moving it in circles to indicate what he held of her words.

You shook your head grinning, and Cass, who noticed the interaction, promptly took Finn’s sugar-glazed donut and dumped it in his untouched mayonnaise.

"Ew! Jesus, Cass, you are disgusting!" Finn yelled as he stared at the disaster.

She just shrugged and was quick to eat her own food before he would get any ideas.

For a while, it was quiet. You continued cleaning and sorting your lunch plate, while Cass ate and Finn and her did not speak a word to each other.

It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though, just a break from conversation.

Eventually, Cass was the one to break it.

“So, uhm, did you guys, like - I mean, have you been thinking about Roy, too? Or, like, dreaming or something?” With every word her voice got more quiet until it was only a low mumble, drifting apart in the busy noise around.

But still everything she said managed to pierce through the air and directly into your heart.

“Why would you bring that up?” Finn asked through gritted teeth, he almost sounded mad.

Cass avoided eye contact with both of you and pressed the palms of her hands against her forehead, as if to stop it from giving her incredible pain.

“I’ve been having those horrible nightmares, since it happened,” she sighed in despair.

“It’s the same thing over and over again. I see something going into his room, but when I try to open the door, it’s locked. And I hit it, and I scream, but there’s just no sound coming out of my mouth. And when the door finally opens, there he is, lying on the bed, just-”

A heavy clatter interrupted her monologue and made you flinch. Finn had thrown his fork onto his dinner plate.

“Didn’t ask about fucking details, Cassandra,” he hissed lowly, stood up and walked away with his tray in hand.

Cass looked after him as he left and put her head in her hands with a groan.

“I didn’t mean to upset him,” she mumbled into the fabric of her sleeve.

“I know,” you said. She raised her head. You gave her a sympathetic smile.

“D’you think he hates me now?”

You shook your head no. “He’s just grieving. We all are. He will get himself together again, promise.”

For a second, her lips quirked up in a small smile.

“Come on,” you said then and swung your leg over the bench, standing up. “We’ve been sitting here for far too long anyways.”

You took your tray and Cass was quick to follow you and put the dirty dishes away.

“I didn’t have any, by the way.” Confused, she looked at you.

“Nightmares,” you added.

Cass nodded. “Yeah, didn’t think so.” She shrugged. “Guess I’ll deal with this the same way I deal with everything: completely and utterly alone.”

You jokingly shoved her at her theatrics, and she grinned. “Shut up. I’ll be damned if I let you deal with any of this on your own. Got me?”

She laid a hand upon her heart and the other on your shoulder. “You’re so sweet,” she said. “And I suppose that also includes helping me study for my biology exam which I have definitely already studied for?”

You pulled back and inhaled sharply, pretending to think. “Ah ma’am, I am afraid this feature is not included in your subscription. We apologize for any discomfort this may bring.”

“It brings a great deal of discomfort!” Cass exclaimed while you two walked the hallway to your rooms.

“You can write me an email-complaint,” you joked. “No guarantees though. You’ve had like two weeks to study for that one.”

“I know, I know, but it’s so endlessly boring and complicated!” she cried.

You shrugged. “There’s a reason I didn’t take the AP class.”

“And I will forever envy you for it.”

You stopped when you reached the two doors to your bedrooms that laid right across of each other.

“Then,” you said and bowed lightly, “farewell my friend. May your head not explode while rehearsing for the terribly difficult school subject that is AP biology.”

She flipped you off and disappeared into her room. Laughing to yourself, you opened the door and slipped into your own.

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Central Nebraska 2007

The past few hunting days had been rough. Sam and Dean had driven from one case to the next without a break, been beaten up by an entire pack of werewolves and hunted down a loose chupacabra outside of its usual territory.

Dean was beyond exhausted. His muscles ached, his head was pounding, and the lack of sleep was weighing his limbs down. He was practically dragging himself over the gravel path, before he swung open the door to Harvelle’s Roadhouse.

The air that hit them from inside was stuffy, warm, and smelt like sweat and alcohol. Low but loud enough music fell into an uncoordinated melody with loud chatter and the clinking of glass.

Dean felt like he had never experienced something more beautiful, after the weeks he’s had.

“Deeeeeannnn!”

He heard the excited cry of his name before he saw where it came from. He spotted a bright sundress on a small girl, and out of instinct crouched down as she sped towards him.

With a grunt, Dean picked her up in his arms mid sprint and lifted her up. Behind him, Sam closed the door again as Dean made his way over to the bar with little Y/N on his hip.

“How is my favorite girl today?” He asked her and she grinned at him.

“I’m good! I missed you,” she added.

Dean’s chest clammed with how much he loved her.

“Well, I’m back now, ready to give you allllll my attention. Come on, show me those fangs.” He nodded his head at her chin at his request, and Y/N drew her lips back and bared her teeth to him.

Dean held the hand that wasn’t holding her in front of his eyes and pretended to be blinded. “Wow, those are clean! I can’t even see anything.”

With a giggle, Y/N closed her mouth again and Dean blinked hard a few times.

“I brush them extra hard. Ask Auntie Ellen.”

Dean nodded. “I totally believe you. Every werewolf would be jealous of those teeth. Oh, did I say werewolf? I meant vampire, of course.”

Dean shook his head at himself, and Y/N beamed up at him with the brightest shining eyes he had ever seen.

“Good to see you again, boys,” Ellen greeted them and pulled out two glasses. “The usual?”

Sam and Dean nodded. Ellen started pouring. When Sam took his drink, he pointed somewhere in the back of the bar and said, “I’ll go have a talk with Ash.” Then he was gone.

Dean placed Y/N on one of the bar stools and took his seat next to her.

“Dean, can you play Operation with me?” Y/N asked him, and Dean stilled in his movement to take a sip of his drink. He opened his mouth to answer her, but Ellen was faster.

“Baby, let Dean rest for a bit. I’m sure these past few days haven’t been all sugar and cakes for him. Maybe later, alright?”

Y/N pouted a bit, but then shrugged and shuffled off the barstool. “Okay,” she said, and disappeared between the people, probably to the private rooms.

Dean looked after her and then turned back to Ellen with a thankful look on his face.

“Can’t believe that game is still so popular. I mean, I used to play with that in my childhood,” he said, and took a sip from his drink. The alcohol burned a bit down his throat, but it was exactly what he needed right now. Dean closed his eyes and sighed appreciatively.

“Really glad you’re back,” Ellen then told him honestly, as she opened up a beer for herself and folded her arms on the counter. “She’s been asking me nothing else than ‘When will Dean come back’ for the past few weeks. I can’t hear that sentence anymore.”

Dean chuckled and she took a sip.

“Yeah,” he dragged, and threw a look in the direction that Y/N had disappeared in. Ellen tilted her head and gave him a look he couldn’t quite read.

“You’re really good with her, ya know?” She twirled the bottle loosely on the counter. Dean avoided her inquiring gaze and looked into the liquor in his glass instead. He vaguely saw his reflection in it.

“’ve always been good with kids, I guess.” He shrugged it off.

Ellen hummed. Dean didn’t know what to make of it. He looked up at her again.

“For what it’s worth, she makes it really easy,” he said. Ellen raised her eyebrows. “To lo- to like her, I mean. She’s a great kid. You did good with her.”

Ellen sighed. “Yeah, I like to think I did. Wasn’t always easy.”

Dean nodded. A bit after they had met, Ellen had vaguely told him how she got to Y/N. How someone had just dumped the little girl, barely one year old, on her doorstep. No note, only a name and date of birth, and a blanket in the basket she had been put in.

When he had first heard the story, Dean’s hand had cramped around his beer bottle so hard his knuckles had turned white.

Stories like this about kids always got to him. But about this one? Hell, the lengths he would go to protect that little girl. She had made her way into his heart so easily, no preparation or caution, just boosted right into it with her bright smile and those happy eyes.

And Dean had never spent a day not wanting to know her.

Sometimes, when he thought about it, he thought about how easy it was. To love a kid. She wasn’t even his, but every time he had to say goodbye to her for God knows how long again, his heart broke a little more.

And he thought about how it was that easy, and how yet, somehow his father had not managed it. Had left his children alone, abandoned, in ran down motel rooms, without any contact for days and sometimes weeks. How he had felt absent, even when he was physically present, and how Dean could never do enough to feel enough for him.

It made him ache, but he had promised himself to never make anyone else feel this way. And maybe, just maybe, this little wonder he had come across was supposed to be his salvation.

“Dean, I have to tell you something.”

Somehow, the way Ellen said it, made Dean stiffen. A strange mixture of regret and hurt crossed her exes.

“It’s about your daddy,” she added.

“And about Y/N.”

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Now

If Sam had tried to read the different emotions that were crossing his older brother’s face right now, he would have given up as soon as he had started.

But one thing was certain, they were many, and probably none of them were good.

They stood in front of the wooden door to their last room.

Your room, to be exact.

And they stood there for the second time today, to be exact.

Maria had pointed them the numbers of the bedrooms where Roy Kendall’s friends lived, they had paid each of them a visit and asked them questions about the deceased.

None of those interrogations had proven to be useful to them, though.

Also, funny enough, it turns out that Cassandra Claire and Y/N Winchester’s room happened to lay just across the hallway from each other.

But when Sam offered to move on to her after finishing Cassandra’s questioning, Dean had not-so-smoothly avoided his question and decided he was in desperate need of some lunch.

Which is why, now, they were standing here, staring at the old wooden door with filled stomachs and angel Castiel in tow - who had decided to join them after all.

Said angel now leaned in closer to Sam and not so silently whispered, “Is he- frozen? Shall I wake him?”

Dean snorted and shook his head, as if Castiel’s words had actually woken him up from the sort of trance he had been trapped in.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, still talking into the direction of the - apparently very intimidating – wooden door.

Sam raised his eyebrows, fully aware that his brother couldn’t see him. “Well then,” he said, extending his hand to the door. “Knock.”

Dean threw a murdering look over his shoulder at his little brother and took a deep breath in, shook his shoulders.

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew this had to be difficult for Dean, but he also wanted to get all of this over with. He could think of more fun things than spending his entire day in an orphanage, investigating a murder. Also, his suit was starting to get itchy.

The sound of Dean knocking at the door felt like a salvation. “Agents Shield and Stark and …” He threw Cas a look, “… Miller. We’re here to ask you some questions about the death of Roy Kendall.”

For a second, it was quiet. Then, “It’s open.”

The voice from inside made a chill run down Sam’s spine. He couldn’t imagine what his brother felt. But even if Dean was falling apart inside, he didn’t let his face show any of it.

Dean’s heart twisted with the door handle, as he pushed the door open and entered into the room. After him, Sam and Castiel entered, and Dean closed the door behind them again.

The room wasn’t big, but it had been decorated to be comfortable. In the middle of the wall to their right, a twin-sized bed with unified colors was placed, a small bedside table next to it.

To their left was a tall wardrobe that almost reached the ceiling, and under the window on the wall opposite them stood a nice desk.

And there, shuffling through some papers, stood a young teenage girl, with her back turned to them.

“Sorry about the mess, I-“ Dean’s heart skipped a beat as you turned around.

You hadn’t changed, not a bit, but had grown so much. The roundness in your features, like with all children, had gone away as you grew older. You had changed your hair, and your voice was different, but it was so unmistakably you that Dean needed a second to catch himself.

He feared his feet would buckle under him, as you looked at him with wide open eyes, those eyes that he remembered looked so much like your mother’s.

You felt your whole world tumble around you as you looked at them. At him. Your heart was speeding in your chest, a feeling spreading in your stomach as if you had been sucker punched.

This couldn’t be real, there was no way. But then again, there was no reason why it wouldn’t be. There were more epic scenarios you could have come up with to reunite with your … family. And nevertheless, you had stopped having dreams like that a long time ago. You had given up on hoping a day like this would come.

But now it was here, apparently, and it was so unspectacular, it was almost funny.

They walked in here, after years, in fancy suits and badges, wanting to know about- what exactly was it they wanted to know about?

You cleared your throat and took a deep breath, gathering yourself.

“What are you doing here?” Compared to the chaos inside of you, your voice sounded calm and collected, almost devoid of any emotion, and a part of you was proud.

Sam cleared his throat. You noticed he looked older.

Well, no shit. But more … drawn, from his experience. Trauma, maybe. You hadn’t been aware of much when you were a child, but that their work took a toll on them, that had been unmistaken.

And Sam’s eyes held a story that seemed as tragic as it seemed muddled.

“We heard about Roy Kendall’s death,” he answered.

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline. They had heard about Roy. Did that mean they were here to-

“And we’re here to find out what killed him.”

What?

“What?”

“Yeah, we, uh-“ Sam shifted his weight awkwardly, “We don’t think it was a … natural death.”

“Well, no shit.” Roy’s chest had been cracked open. You were no coroner, but even you knew that couldn’t exactly be filed under the case of natural deaths.

Now, Dean took a small step forward, trying his best to hold eye contact with you, and your shoulders subconsciously stiffened.

“Y/N-,” he started.

“Dean,” you shot back.

And that wort was like a punch in his guts. Dean felt physically sick. But how could he expect any different really?

You noticed him stumbling slightly at the word, a look of hurt crossing over his face.

Good, you thought.

A part of you wanted to hit him in the chest, scream at him until your voice was raw, Why did you do this? Why did you leave me? When did you stop loving me?

But in the end, you didn’t.

You would rather die than give him the satisfaction of breaking down.

Why you thought he would feel satisfaction at your hurt, you didn’t know.

“So, Roy,” you simply said, something to break the pressing silence in the room.

Sam nodded. “Yes, exactly. We, uhm –“ He pointed to the third man you had never seen before, “and Castiel, we wanted to ask you a few things about him.”

You glanced at the guy in the trenchcoat, who raised his hand to do an awkward little wave. “Nice to meet you.”

“Too,” you said.

There was a silence again, until Dean took the floor. “So, he was one of your friends?” He asked, “That Roy kid?”

People had been doing it for days, yet something about them talking about one of your best friends in the past tense made your stomach turn with uneasiness.

You hummed in agreement.

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Sam said.

“Stick it,” you bit back, and crossed your arms in front of your chest. Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

“Did your friend mention anything … out of the ordinary happen, before he was killed?” The third guy, with the trenchcoat and the weird name which you had already forgotten, asked.

You clenched your jaw and something about the way Dean pressed his eyes shut in exasperation made you believe that this guy’s bluntness was something quite common.

“No,” you simply said. Trenchcoat frowned.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked, taking a slight step forward.

“Yes, I am. Roy never said anything about anything strange that would be in any way valuable to your case.”

“What do you mean by that?” Dean questioned.

You shrugged. “What I said.”

“Y/N, any information you can give us about Roy’s behavior before he died is extremely important and could really help us,” Sam urged.

Something about the way your name slipped off his tongue, with that sense of familiarity and normal, made your skin itch.

You took a deep breath and cleared your throat. “Well, I mean - he just mentioned that he was having those … terrible nightmares all of a sudden.” You shrugged. “Like I said, nothing that would be worth writing down.”

Sam did it anyways.

Dean tilted his head and looked at you quizzically. “Why would you think his nightmares were unusual? I mean, everyone has bad dreams from time to time.”

You shifted your weight uncomfortably. “Yeah, I know, but it’s just …” You paused. This was stupid. “It’s stupid, really, but – Roy doesn’t usually dream.”

Didn’t, you corrected in your head, but the word didn’t make it past your lips.

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

“And it was just strange, because he was having these nightmares frequently, or rather this nightmare, because it was always the exact same,” you keep rambling on.

“What was it about?” Dean asked.

You swept your hand across your forehead. “I don’t know, he wouldn’t talk much about it. Just said that it was like the worst day of his life replaying over and over.”

Dean nodded. Sam frowned in interest.

“Do you know what that was? The worst day of his life?”

You shrugged. “The day he lost his parents, probably,” you said. “The entire house burnt down right in front of him. He made it out, they didn’t.”

Your voice was quiet and pressed, still feeling bad about sharing such an intimate part of Roy’s history with those … strangers. A nagging part in the back of your mind kept telling you he wouldn’t – couldn’t – mind anymore.

Sam’s pen kept scraping over his notebook, and Dean threw a glimpse over his brother’s shoulder. As you watched them, your gaze fell on trenchcoat-guy, who was still positioned in the corner of your room, just a few steps behind them.

He was observing you with interest, blue eyes staring back into yours as if he was looking directly at your soul. Something like a chill ran down your spine.

The man tilted his head, as you diverted your attention back to Dean and Sam. His brows were furrowed.

Cas recognized you. He didn’t know where from, but you looked so weirdly … familiar. Your features, the shape of your face. They way you talked and moved.

“Your boyfriend is staring at me weirdly,” you mentioned to Dean, as you caught the man’s gaze again.

Dean turned his head and looked at him, then back to you. “Yeah, he tends to do that.”

You lifted your eyebrows and made an ‘Ah’ sound. Trenchcoat was getting weirder by the second. But at least the guy had stopped his creepy staring. For now.

“Look, I don’t want you guys here. But I understand that your presence is necessary in order to catch whatever it is that’s killing my friends. So, you just do your thing, look around a bit, kill something, and then leave. Both of you.”

With a look at the third guy in the trenchcoat, you added, “Three.”

Dean avoided your eyes, but Sam nodded jerkily and cleared his throat again. “Yeah, we uh … we understand that.”

He straightened his coat and turned to leave the room. “Thank you for your help for now, really. We’ll get in touch if we need anything else.”

You nodded simply, even though you didn’t exactly know what to make of that idea.

As Sam and trenchcoat-guy made their way to leave the room, Dean took a small step towards you and pulled something out of his suit jacket.

“And if there’s anything else you might remember or see, you can always give us a call.” You stared at the small paper he had handed to you. With dark blue pen, a phone number was sloppily scribbled on it. The edges of the paper were uneven, it had probably been ripped off a bigger sheet.

You pursed your lips and nodded.

“Yeah.” You didn’t know what else to say. Thank you wasn’t really in the cards right now. Dean cleared his throat and stepped back with a nod. Then, they left the room one by one.

“Have a nice day,” Sam said.

“You, too.” The answer came automatically. The door closed behind them with a click, and you were alone again.

The small paper suddenly felt incredibly heavy in your hand.

—

When Dean stepped through the threshold and out into the hallway, he felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off his chest. He took a deep breath like a man starved.

The sick feeling in his stomach still lingered.

He didn’t even wait for the click of the closing door before he started making his way to the exit, trusting that his brother and Castiel would follow.

His fast steps echoed over the hallway, when suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder yank him around. Dean was staring into the eyes of his younger brother. He shook his arm to let Sam’s hand harshly fall off.

“What?”

Sam didn’t say anything, and Dean just glared at him. It was Castiel who spoke up first. His head was tilted, eyebrows scrunched, and a curious tone in his voice.

“She is your … daughter.” It wasn’t a question. Cas had figured out the root of all of Dean’s hesitation – to come here, to stay here, to investigate. All because of one person, that he knew was so close to Dean Winchester, but yet way too far than two people with their natural bond should be.

“What gave it away?” Dean turned to Cas. His tone was bitter. “The attitude or the way she hates my guts?”

Castiel looked him up and down.

“She is so similar to you,” he stated matter-of-factly, completely ignoring Dean’s sarcastic response.

Dean exchanged an annoyed look with his little brother, who simply shrugged.

“All right, now that we’ve cleared that up,” Dean gruffed and made his way down the hallway again, “Let’s go.”

He trusted that the others followed him quietly.

When they reached the gravel path that led from the small castle to their car, Sam picked up his pace to catch up with his older brother. “Dean, I’ve been thinking.”

The man scoffed. “Oh, don’t hurt yourself like that, Sammy.”

“I’m serious.” Sam halted next to his brother and pulled him to a stop with a firm hand on his shoulder. “And I think, maybe… we should sit this one out.”

The way Sam said the last bit was careful, and Dean tilted his head as he turned to his younger brother. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying, maybe this case is too personal for us, Dean. Maybe we should let some other hunter take care of it.”

Dean shook his head. “No way. This is the first time in years that I get to see my daughter, I will not just throw this away.” He lifted his index finger to point it at his brother.

“Well, what exactly is it that you want to do, Dean? It’s not like the two of you have the strongest father-daughter bond!” Sam scoffed and his arms in the air.

Dean started walking towards the impala again. “I know, and that’s why I want to make things right with her.”

“What for, Dean? Just so we leave her here, again?”

"I don’t know!” Dean whirled around in fury as he yelled the words. He slumped his shoulders.

“I don’t know, okay?” He said, his voice was smaller now. “Look, let’s just … let’s finish this case. Give me some time to figure things out and then we will decide.” Dean peeled himself out of his suit jacket and tossed it in the backseat of the impala. He slammed the door. “But first, let’s save some lives.”

Sam shook his head. “Alright. Whatever you say.” He matched Dean as he opened the door to the back and tossed his jacket on the leather seats.

“By the way, where’s Cas?”

Sam threw a look around them. He was right, the angel was nowhere to be found. He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he zapped to the motel again.”

Dean frowned as he pulled open the front door. The hinges squealed. “We need to have a serious talk with him about that. Can’t have him disappearing on me the entire time.”

Sam frowned. Dean meant them, right? Couldn’t have him disappearing on them the entire time. Us.

Right?

Sam decided to shrug his brother’s strange comment off for now and got in the passenger’s seat.

“We have to go there anyways. Do some research,” he said.

Dean hummed and started the car. Sam could about assume what that meant. The gravel gnarled under the Impala’s tires as they drove off.

—

Back alone in your room again, you sat on your desk chair as your playlist of favorite songs blasted through your headphones. Dark ink started covering your thighs, where you were drawing on them with your pen as you had placed them on the surface of the desk.

The past few minutes, your mind had been insanely occupied with processing what the actual fuck had just happened. Because. Well. What the actual fuck had just happened?

When they had knocked on your door, you had expected the normal questioning, something that Cass and Finn had been talking about anyways.

When you turned around, just to stare at the face of Dean Winchester, your mind had gone fully devoid of every thought ever formed.

The typical “heart slipping into your pants.”

It felt as if you had worked on autopilot, not even coherently remembering what you had said to them. Had your reaction been an appropriate one? After years of imagining this exact scenario, in all ways and forms it could’ve played out, you not being able to form a simple sentence had not been one of them.

In afterthought, maybe you should’ve punched Dean.

Maybe that would’ve been the appropriate response.

The sharp sound of a knock at your door made you startle. You pulled your headphones off your ears and turned the music off. Those things were great, but in all those years they had never quite managed to overpower the sounds around you.

Maybe that was why you were still allowed to wear them all the time.

“Who’s there?” You asked loudly into the room.

“Me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. The fuck? How was there not a single normal person knocking on your bedroom door today?

“Who is me?” You asked again.

The door opened just the tiniest bit, creaking in the process, and through peeked the head of the third man that had accompanied Sam and Dean earlier.

Trenchcoat guy.

“It’s me,” he repeated.

You frowned. “Uhm - come in?” You invited him and lifted your feet off the table.

Trenchcoat guy carefully shuffled in through the gap in the door until he stood in your room, awkwardly, and his stiff posture made him look so out of place, it was almost funny.

When he didn’t seem to plan on doing anything more than eyeing the bookshelf on the other wall, you decided to speak up.

“I’m sorry, but I think I forgot your name.”

Slowly, he turned his attention back to you, as if he had now just remembered that you were there. “I’m Castiel,” he answered in a deep, gravelly voice.

You raised your eyebrows. “Ah. Right.” Another beat of silence. “Are you, like - Dean’s boyfriend or something?” You asked.

Castiel frowned and tilted his head. “Me and your father are not romantically involved in any way whatsoever,” he reassured you.

“Ah,” you said again. Then, “Did Dean send you?”

Castiel shook his head, almost offended at the implication. “After our … conversation, earlier, he figured you were not too enthusiastic to see him. That is why only I am here.”

You swallowed hard. No, that wasn’t true.

“He’s damn right.”

Castiel nodded.

Then it was quiet again. “Is there … anything you need?” You dragged out, unsure of what he was planning to do in here exactly.

“Well, no, not specifically, I just - wanted to talk to you,” Castiel said, though he seemed not too secure about his purpose himself. “About your father.”

“Dean,” you corrected, but were sure Castiel didn’t miss how your shoulders stiffened at it. The man in the trenchcoat frowned and dipped his head lightly.

“Yes, your father.” He repeated.

You shook your head. “He’s not my father. He’s just Dean.”

“As I understand it, you were conceived through him and your mother having sexual intercourse, therefore-“

“Okay! Thank you,” you interrupted him and raised your hand to sign stop. “What do you want?”

Castiel took a few steps closer to you, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor as he seemed to look for the right words.

“I fear your father- Dean,” he corrected himself with a look in your direction, “does feel very bad about what happened between you and him.”

You pursed your lips. “So? Did he tell you that?”

Castiel looked sheepish. “No,” he answered honestly, “But I know your- him. Just because he does not like to talk about his feelings does not mean that he does not feel them.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Let me ask you something, Castiel,” you said. He nodded. “Anything.”

“Do you know at all what happened? Between me and him?”

Again, Castiel looked away. You did not know this man. You did not know what his history with Dean was, or with Sam. But you knew that he knew nothing.

“No.” That one word confirmed it.

You bit the inside of your cheek.

“Then - excuse my choice of words - but you have no room to talk. And if Dean wants to tell me something, he can always do that himself. In person. He’s here anyway.”

Castiel nodded. “Alright.”

It was silent again, between you and him, until Castiel took in a sharp breath and leaned forward into something close to a bow.

“I’m sure they await me,” he explained. “Goodbye, Y/N.” He then turned around to open the door, but paused mid his action.

“You do look a lot like him, you know?” He said.

That’s it.

“Out,” you ordered him harshly and Castiel walked through the door, closing it behind him.

—

You had, in fact, ended up helping Cass study for her upcoming exam. Well, what means help, you had asked her questions and she had to answer them correctly - which worked expectedly not so well.

“I can just play the dead friend card,” she had joked, but you knew that she was actually actively considering it.

In that moment though, you had just skipped over her remark and continued asking her about the digestive system of a Baird’s beaked whale.

It was already late at night when the two of you finally hugged goodbye.

“Thank you so much,” she said. “You helped a lot. I’ll forget it all until tomorrow morning, but I do appreciate your effort.”

You smiled at her. “Don’t worry, you’ll nail it. Or at least not fail.”

She laughed. “You think too highly of me, Y/N.”

For a few moments, nobody said a word. “I never asked you,” Cass eventually started, “are you okay?”

You took a deep breath and shifted your weight. “Considering the circumstances, I guess. You?”

“Same thing,” she said. You laid your head back and stared at the ceiling. “It still feels weird only being three people,” you realized.

“Yeah,” Cass agreed quietly.

A few beats of silence passed, until you got yourself back together and shook your body as if to shake off your grief.

“But whatever,” you sighed. “Can’t change that now, can we?”

You looked at Cass and she hummed with a dull shrug, seeming lost in her own thoughts.

She absentmindedly opened her bedroom door, but just as she wanted to disappear into the room, you grabbed her arm to stop her for a second.

“By the way, about your nightmares,” you said, “maybe you can take some pills against that, if it gets too much. Unregulated sleep is probably worse than no sleep.”

Cass managed a tired smile. “Will try, thanks. Goodnight babes, love you,” she threw you a kiss.

“Love you too, good night,” you said back and smiled at her, waiting until she closed the door to enter your own room.

—

You didn’t know what woke you up. The glowing numbers of the digital clock on your nightstand showed it to be somewhere around half past three. Really not your usual wake-up time.

Just as you rolled around in your sheets to get your missing hours of sleep in, you heard strange shuffling outside your door. Perking up, you realized it sounded like the overlapping chatter of voices, and shoes pounding over the smooth floor.

Yeah, no way you would be going back to sleep now.

Especially not with the uncomfortable feeling that had settled into your stomach.

Stumbling a bit, your joints not quite awake yet, you trutted over to your door and creaked it open slightly.

The white light burned your eyes at the start, as you slipped out of your room and were met with the sight of multiple people fussing around not that far away.

The uneasy feeling only got worse, as you realized two things at once: The people were first responders, firefighters, to be exact. And they were all gathered around the open door across the hallway to yours.

Cass.

You moved on autopilot, as your feet carried you closer to the scene, eyes not leaving the gaping black hole that was the entrance to your best friend’s room.

“What happened?” You asked the closest paramedic next to you, a young man with brown hair and dark gear. It didn’t help much, because his voice faded out into the back of your head, as movement began to settle over the group.

The paramedic gestured his hands, as he talked to you, though that was not at all what had grabbed your attention.

You could only look at her, as she was lying sprawled out on the stretcher that was being wheeled out of her bedroom.

Cass.

But it wasn’t Cass, it couldn’t be. Dark grey plastic was wrapped around her body, covering her features as one of the firefighters that pushed the gurney zipped the material closed.

A body bag.

You felt bile rise into your throat.

Who put a seventeen-year-old in a body bag?

She wasn’t supposed to be there. What was she doing in there.

She had a biology exam tomorrow. She was supposed to join you at breakfast. In just a few hours. She was supposed to still lay in her bed and sleep, fast and sound.

Lay in her bed. Not on a moving gurney. Her bed.

You had laid in that bed. Just a few hours before.

The exam.

Breakfast.

Dark grey plastic.

Body Bag. A body. Dead. A dead body.

Dead. Dead. Gone.

Gone. Gone. Gone. Dead.

Like a distant echo, you still vaguely registered the young paramedic talking to you; he came to an abrupt stop when you bent over and threw up on his shoes.

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Sioux Falls 2009

The soft music that sounded through Grandpa Bobby’s old house reminded you of Auntie Ellen’s Roadhouse.

It made you a bit homesick, but for a while now, whenever you asked Dad if you could go there again, he just shook his head and said that it wasn’t possible.

That’s also the reason why you’d been living with Grandpa Bobby for very long now, he had told you.

Auntie Ellen and Jo came to visit sometimes, but it wasn’t the same. But you saw Dad much more often, and you liked that. You missed him whenever he went out and saved people.

Grandpa Bobby had told you that it was very important, what Dad and Uncle Sam did. That’s why you never complained when they stayed away for long.

Grandpa Bobby said they saved lives. Like firemen, he said. Or Sheriff Jody.

Auntie Ellen and Jo came over for a visit today. Dad had said that they were here to help him and Uncle Sam take care of something, that’s why they had to leave later.

Jo was playing your favorite boardgame with you. You had missed her. She was still very pretty. You knew your Dad thought that too.

“Alright,” Dad said, walking through the threshold that connected Grandpa Bobby’s workroom and the dinner table where you and Jo were currently playing. “It’s time to get this little Lady to sleep.”

You pouted at him.

“But Dad, I still want to stay up and play with Jo!”

Dad raised his eyebrows and threw a pointing look at his watch.

“It is already way past your bedtime, kiddo. And I heard tomorrow is a big school day?”

He was right. Tomorrow, you started your first singing lessons with all your bestest friends. Not all of them as best friends as Jo was, though.

Your shoulders slumped.

“Can I at least say Goodbye to you?”

Dean’s gaze went soft as he looked at you. He knew how hard this was for you, how he left all the time and came back for only such short periods. But he wanted to make this a better world for you to grow up in. And when all of this was over, and it would be tonight, hopefully, then he would allow himself to settle down and spend all the time he could give with you.

“Of course you can, my little love.”

Dad crouched down and lifted you up into his arms.

“Dean, Jo!” Came Auntie Ellen’s voice from the study, “We’re ready!”

Dad threw you a mysterious look as he stepped into Grandpa Bobby’s workspace, where he and Auntie Ellen and Uncle Sam already stood lined up.

You noticed the camera set up on a strange construction.

Auntie Ellen and Uncle Sam smiled when they saw you.

“You don’t mind a small addition, do you, Ellen?” Dad asked, and Auntie Ellen shook her head.

“Of course not!” She smiled, and made space for you and Dad to stand next to her. He was still carrying you in his arms, supporting your weight with his hip.

“Alright, on the count of three, all smile in the camera!” Uncle Sam said.

“One, two, three!”

You giggled when Dad tickled your stomach. You wanted to see the picture right now, but Grandpa Bobby had told you it would take a while to develop.

Enveloped in bear hugs from Auntie Ellen, Jo, Uncle Sam and Dad, to say goodbye to them, you finally agreed to go to bed.

“Dad?” You asked him, as he went to close the door behind him. Dad turned around and looked at you, snuggled into the warm blanket with your favorite stuffed animal under your arm.

“You’ll come back soon, right?”

Dad smiled at your words. “Of course I will, sweetheart. And Uncle Sam, and Auntie Ellen, and Jo. All of us.”

“You promise?”

Dad pressed a kiss into your hair.

“Don’t worry about that, baby. Sleep well.”

Even years later, Dean Winchester still carried an old photograph in his wallet, of a brunette mother, a blonde daughter, a father figure, and two brothers.

Though, one of them wasn’t looking at the camera, but rather at the small child he held on his side, his hand on her stomach as she blindingly smiled a carefree smile into the camera.

His own was dreamy as he watched her, and yes, for that moment, he dared to say, maybe even carefree as well.

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Now

Cass’s room was never quiet. Whether she was blasting music or playing guitar, singing her soul out in the shower or watching a move obnoxiously louder than it had to be.

Cass’s room was never quiet. Especially not as it was now.

The silver streams of light reaching through the window made her bedroom almost look so soft and inviting, as you stood there, observing, not quite in the hallway but not exactly in the room either.

It was macabre, what you saw. Not because the room looked so terrible, no, because it looked so … normal.

None of the bookshelves were tumbled over, or paper sprawled all across the floor.

The loose decoration items weren’t lying disheveled everywhere. No signs of a fight. A physical one.

The bed wasn’t made. Cass never did that.

The room looked so normal.

It looked so right.

So why wasn’t she?

“Y/N, sweetheart,” The sound of the familiar, comforting voice of Maria Whitlock reached your ears and made you slowly turn around.

Even through the blur of unshed tears in your eyes, you could make out the two familiar figures standing behind her.

“There’s someone here to talk to you.”

You blinked away the tears and caught Dean’s gaze, and for the first time since you had seen him again, his features looked so soft and merciful, towards you, it had the power to almost shatter your heart.

And you hated yourself for how much you wanted to be comforted by him, be held in his arms like the small child that once had been, only seeking safety with her-

“What are you doing here?” The question came out harsher than you had expected it to, almost an accusation. But neither Sam nor Dean did flinch at your tone.

“We wanted to talk to you.”

“Why?” It was obvious why. They knew, you knew, they knew you knew.

“I think you know about what,” Sam said, the softness in his voice grazing your stuttering heartbeat like a soft breeze.

Dean gestured in the direction of your room.

“In private.”

You didn’t want to speak alone to them. Then again, for the past almost-decade, it had been everything you could’ve wished for.

As you settled onto your bed, both Sam and Dean taking it upon themselves to find chairs to be comfortable, you felt like a small child again.

Looking at Dean, there was a familiarity that you needed, it was grounding, and you hated that it was. His presence, which had felt like home, and like safety for so long, being everything that you craved these past few days made your skin itch, because he still felt so right.

And you still felt so safe with him.

In a matter of seconds, you stood there and turned from a young woman into a small child, that wanted to throw herself in his arms and let him tell her that everything would turn out to be alright, because he was there, and he would look out for you. No matter what happened between the two of you, that had not changed, and you didn’t know what to think about it.

Sam was the first one to clear his throat. Of course he was.

“How are you feeling?”

Half-heartedly, because that was all you could muster right now, you raised an eyebrow at him. At least he had the decency to look a bit ashamed of his question.

“We’re sorry for your loss.”

Surprised, you turned your head to look at Dean. His green eyes were soft with sincerity.

“I don’t know how much she meant to you.” He glanced at Sam. “But I can imagine.”

You swallowed hard and looked back at your fumbling fingers again.

“Yeah, she was – she was great.” Your voice broke mid-sentence and you sniffled.

You cleared your throat. “Uhm, but – anyways, that’s not why you’re here. Am I right?”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, that could be regret as much as it could be pity, and then turned back to you.

“We’re sorry. But if we want to catch whatever is doing this, we need to have all the information,” Sam apologized.

You nodded. You already knew what they were going to ask, so you saved their time and jumped straight to the answers.

“There was nothing – unusual.” You rubbed your eyes. “She was okay just yesterday, she was- I helped her studying biology, we-“ You interrupted yourself.

Sam threw you another pitying look.

“Is there a chance she might’ve had nightmares too? You know, like Roy,” Dean asked you.

You threw your hand in the air. “Yeah, I guess,” you said. “Didn’t really think that much into it. You know, considering what happened.”

Dean bit the inside of his cheeks and gulped. “Right.”

It was quiet again. The brothers looked at each other one last time, before Sam stood up and fixed his suit jacket.

“Alright. We’re gonna leave you now.”

Please don’t.

You nodded.

Sam stretched his hand out to reach for you, but hesitated mid-air and pulled his arm back again.

“Whenever you need something,” Dean said meaningfully, before he stepped out the door, “Call us.” Call me.

You hummed absently.

The click of the lock drowned the bedroom in a deafening silence again.

—

Night came sooner than you thought it would. Sleep didn’t.

You thought, with the exhaustion that had been dragging down your bones all day long, it would only be a matter of time until exhaustion claimed you.

Without thinking about it, you grabbed your phone from your nightstand and opened up your chat with Finn.

With a sting in your heart, you realized that the last text conversation the two of you had had, had been more than a week ago.

Before all of this started.

Your keyboard clicked as you typed out the message.

hey

The answer came almost instantly.

Hey

can’t sleep either?

No

Your thumbs hovered over the buttons as you thought of what to type next.

I’m sorry we didn’t talk the entire day

It’s okay

It’s not like I came to see you either

would it be terrible to ask how you’re feeling?

Everyone’s been asking that

Oh, how you knew.

But to be honest

I don’t know

First Roy now Cass

Hasn’t reached my brain tbh

Feels more like a dream and I could wake up any second

I know what you mean

You paused for a moment, before you decided to send out the next text.

I’m still waiting for her to waltz into my room at 6 in the morning because she wants to get some mini donuts at breakfast before they’re all gone

You could practically hear the snickering laugh of Finn’s, as the icon told you he was typing out his next message.

Or letting my Alexa play the most random songs

I swear to God I’ve heard less sexual content in actual porn than that one Nicki Minaj song

first of all, it was cardi b, you pig, and

second that song is legendary

she was right to show it to you

A short while, you didn’t get an answer and you were almost afraid that Finn had either fallen asleep or that you had said something inappropriate, when the familiar ding made your screen light up.

We can catch up tomorrow

You know, maybe it would help us both

I know we haven’t been the same since all of this started, but I would really like us to be

Now more than ever

A heavy tug clamped around your heart at his words

you’re right

let’s talk tomorrow

Alright

Goodnight Y/N

good night finn

Sleep didn’t come in the first second after you plugged your phone on the charger, or even after you turned around to face the other wall.

But, as you laid on your back and felt the comforting arms of exhaustion grab after you, you had a feeling that it would’ve been worse if you had not talked to Finn.

—

Meanwhile, in the motel, Dean was slamming his third book this evening shut and tossed it onto the ever-growing pile of “absolute useless crap that nobody needed and was a total waste of time”. The name had been his idea.

Sam didn’t even look up as his brother stood up with a screeching from the wooden floor as he slid the chair back, and started pacing around the room.

“I hate this,” he mumbled under his breath.

“How is it even possible that, everywhere we look, there isn’t even the smallest hint at what we might be chasing?”

Demonstratively, he picks up a book from the pile they brought back from the library, and lets it fall on the desk again.

“Not to mention that we’re completely wasting our time here reading through this absolute crap, and we’ve got jack squat!”

The paper rustled as Sam turned another page.

“I already told you, Dean,” he muttered, eyes still concentrated on the faded ink of the book. “There was nothing online, so we had to go old-school.”

Dean kept muttering under his breath. “This is ridiculous.”

Sam rolled his eyes and placed a new book where his brother had been sitting a few minutes ago.

“If you want it to go faster and we can catch this thing, sit down and get to reading. Research doesn’t do itself.”

Dean was still cursing under his breath when he reached the second chapter.

—

The loud chatter of multiple conversations, accompanied by faint music playing in the background and the occasional clinking of glasses or beer bottles was an all too familiar mix of noises for you.

The light in the Roadhouse bar was still a warm-toned white, and the men and women all towered over you in lengths. Immediately, the feeling of home engulfed you.

You were looking around, searching for the familiar set of colorful crayons, where had your Auntie Ellen put them? You were bored and wanted to draw a pretty picture of the horse you had seen this morning.

Squeezing through the people, they all made way for you when they realized who wanted to get past them, you tried calling out for Auntie Ellen or Jo, but no tone left your throat.

A panicked feeling settled in your stomach.

Then, you spotted a tall figure just a few feet away from you. They were wearing a cool leather jacket and had their back turned to you.

You made your way over to them. You didn’t know why, but somehow you knew that this stranger could help you.

When you had almost reached them, they suddenly started moving and walked away. You wanted to cry after them, but you still couldn’t speak.

You moved your legs as fast as you could, running after them, but the people in the bar suddenly got more and more, always shoving and not making room for you anymore.

The person still hadn’t shown you their face, you could only see their back as you fought to get to them. Then, they walked through the door out of the Roadhouse.

With one last push, and a protesting yell that didn’t leave your throat, you rushed after them into the light.

With a creak, the Impala’s door swung open, and you shuffled your feet out of the car until they hit the gravel.

Dad had offered to open the door for you, but you were a big girl already, you could get out of the car on your own.

When you turned around to ask him what you were doing here, you faltered.

The Impala was gone. So was Dad. And Uncle Sam. You looked around, but they were nowhere to be found. Your breathing quickened as you realized that you were alone, somewhere you didn’t know, on stoney ground with only your bunny slippers. You didn’t even have your favorite stuffed animal with you!

“Hey, let’s go,” you suddenly heard a voice say, and turned around to see a girl with black hair stand in front of you.

Suddenly, as you had just been looking up to her, the two of you were now eye to eye. She just stared at you.

A name popped into your head.

Cass.

That’s weird. You knew a Cass. And then it hit you.

Your best friend. Roy, Finn, Cassandra. Sam and Dean.

But Cass was dead. She couldn’t be here. Looking around, you noticed that the scenery around you was blurry by the edges.

Weren’t you standing on a pathway just now? Why were you in a cafeteria?

This wasn’t real, none of it. It was a dream.

Harsh dread clawed itself into your heart like iced water. You had to get out of here. How did you get out of a dream?

You knew it, you had done this before, with your nightmares. You had to die.

You moved your feet, tried running away, but the floor wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard you tried, you didn’t move an inch, it’s like you were stuck.

You began to panic. This couldn’t be, there had to be a way for you to get out.

The next thing you knew, you lost the ground beneath your feet, and everything was black. You were falling.

You felt your organs being lifted by the air pressing you up, felt your heart pump so hard you were afraid it would jump out of your chest.

There was nothing around, only darkness, only empty.

No, no, no.

You wanted to scream, but your vocal cords were cut. Not a sound escaped your lips.

You had to get out, if there was nothing around you, how could you die?

You screamed without a sound.

If this was your dream, why couldn’t you just shape it the way you wanted?

The next thing you knew, there was light around you, and you were running again.

“Dean, look at this.” Sam slammed a massive book under Dean’s nose, dangerously close to Dean’s freshly filled coffee. Reflexive, Dean pulled the cup a few inches away.

Sam placed his finger on one of the open pages of the book. “Here,” he said. “I think this could be it.” Dean leaned forward to read.

You had landed on a road, a highway, judging by the many cars around you. This time, you actually managed to run somewhere, even if a lot slower than you usually would. Like treading through water.

It felt like you were chasing something, but you didn’t know what it was.

“If this is really it,” Dean said, when he finished reading, “Then we have a big problem.”

You did your best to remember your original plan. Right now, you were on a stripe of green next to the busy road. You had to change that.

Sam nodded heavily. “We need to get to Saint George’s immediately.”

Sam grabbed his jacket, but Dean didn’t move an inch, still staring at the handwritten words on the old paper in front of him.

You used all your strength to tread to the left, where cars were rushing from both sides over the street.

“This thing basically feeds off of bad experiences, right?”

Sam nods.

It was a red car that did it. You saw it coming as you made a beeline over the highway. As you noticed the headlights speeding towards you, for a split second you asked yourself, “What if this isn’t a dream. What if this is real.” You didn’t feel the impact when the car hit you.

“Then that means-“ Dean’s head shot up so fast Sam feared his brother would get whiplash.

“Y/N,” Dean breathed out.

Your heart was still beating rapidly in your chest when you officially woke up. The memory of the nightmare was still rushing through your minds, pictures playing behind your eyelids.

You had a hard time breathing, your chest felt as if it was carrying a hard weight that caged in your lungs.

You forced open your eyes to get yourself a glass of water. You were met with two yellow glowing orbs staring right back at you, merely inches away from your face in the darkness of the room.

You couldn’t stop the terrified scream that erupted from your throat.

oooh guys, only one chapter to go! what are we thinking? do you have any ideas on what the monster could be? and what do we think about cass and finn? comments & reblogs are always appreciated, see y’all in the next part!

[the-power-of-a-pen]

A Way Home

Fandom: Spiderverse

Summary: Following the loss of his alternate universe daughter, Miguel is reluctant to risk letting anyone close to him and breaking canon again. However, as most anomalies are returned to their universes, there's the issue of you. You don't have a universe to return to. So, after having you on his team for half a year, he adopts you as his child.

Word Count: 4654

Pairing?: Father-child relationship btwn Miguel and gn! reader.

Trigger Warnings: Some cursing, reader is hinted to having a traumatic past (very briefly and vaguely described), 1 reference to reader as "Spiderman" (meant as a gender-neutral phrase)

A/n: This turned out to be longer than I had planned b/c I realized how much I had to add to make the change of heart even slightly natural, so let me know if y'all want a part two of the reader and Miguel interacting further along the adoption. Not sure how I feel about the structure + characterization in this one. Feedback much appreciated! Please!! I'm on my hands and knees, begging for feedback!!!

------

"Lyla, status on current anomalies," Miguel ordered. He leaned over the yellow panels in front of him, watching the same scene of him and his child playing over and over again. His grip on the console tightened.

She blipped into view. "Currently, there are 918,503,201 anomalies to be returned to their home universes. That's 40% less than yesterday! Spider-Byte does have an update for you regarding-"

"I'll convene with her later. I'm busy."

"Busy brooding over your twelfth cup of coffee. Not enough sugar this time around?" Lyla teased, only to be met with a glare. "Alright, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. But seriously, it can't wait. A canon event was disrupted and now there's a spider-person without a universe to return to."

Miguel turned around dangerously fast. "What did you just say?"

"Talk to Margo -- she'll fill you in." Lyla blipped away.

------

"There you are," Margo mumbled to herself as Miguel approached. "This one's in rough shape, got dropped in Earth 616 and put up a fierce fight before Jessica took them to HQ. I tried to send them through the Go Home Machine, but it just dropped them back here."

"And you're sure it's not a hardware issue?"

"It's 2099," Margo drolled and rolled her eyes. "There's no hardware issues anymore, grandpa."

"Then try sending them home again. I don't see why this requires my supervision."

"This machine tears people's atoms apart and throws them back together in other dimensions," she explained. "If I run the same person through the machine too many times, they could die."

Miguel sighed heavily and began pacing around. "Well, what am I supposed to do? Keep them here forever?"

Margo looked at him like he was crazy and slowly nodded. "You can't leave them here to die."

"They're an anomaly anywhere they go, Spider-Byte. Maybe death would be a mercy."

"To you," Peter B. called from behind him.

"Maldito sea, carajo" Miguel cursed under his breath, turning around. "I thought you were taking the week off."

"Well, I was going to, but Mayday was begging me for another one of these cafeteria burgers," he said with his mouth full of food. "They're really good, you should seriously try them sometime."

Miguel's eyes darted to Mayday and quickly darted away. "I have work to return to in my office, so if you'll excuse me-"

Peter stepped in his way. "I'm sorry, Miguel, but I can't let you walk away from this problem. It's gone too far."

"I'm sorry, what?" Miguel questioned, laughing bitterly.

"Ok, I'm not great with words, especially not in front of big, strong, angry men, so MJ had me prewrite this, let me just get it- oh, Mayday has it. Mayday, hold the paper up for daddy, thanks, sweetheart."

Peter cleared his throat and began to over-annunciate his speech. "Everyone in this building joined your society because they believed in your ability to lead, shape, and change the world. We trusted you to use humane practices behind your actions and to keep the safety and rights of humanity at mind before all else. However, given the fact- Ok, this is bullshit - sorry, Mayday, don't tell mommy. Point is, Miguel, that you claim that you're all about saving the multiverse and saving humanity, but then you throw half of your sanity away to hunt down a 15 year old kid who just wants to save his dad. You're so obsessed with the concept of saving humanity that you forgot what it's like to care about individual humans. You forgot how to be a human."

"I never forgot what it felt like to care. To love."

"It's okay to admit that the new kid reminds you of your daughter, you know."

For a moment, Miguel and Peter B. just stood across from each other in silence, unable to break eye contact. Miguel's expression was intense, but otherwise unreadable. Then: "Go home, Parker. More and more of you prove that you're untrustworthy when it comes to prioritizing the greater good. I'm not afraid to get rid of you, too."

Peter's arms gripped on tighter to Mayday. He seemed to want to say something, but found it in him to walk away. Once he went through his portal back home, Miguel called for Lyla.

"Hold the chatter, Lyla," he said before she could open her mouth, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Silence any notifications except for the urgent ones. And I mean urgent."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," she remarked sarcastically, but complied.

------

Everything in Miguel's office repeated like a broken record. The video of his daughter. Peter's comment that he "forgot what it's like to care about humans, forgot how to be human." Gwen's "we're supposed to be the good guys." The feeling of his own child glitching out of existence in his palms, the very reason he got into this work. The ticking of the clock. The ticking of that motherfucking clock.

He zipped a web to the clock and smashed it into the ground, falling to a knee amidst the broken glass.

"I understand that you're having a very emo moment right now, Mr. O'Hara," Pavitr began, "But Jessica told me to drop this off." He placed the file on the floor and nudged it over with his foot as far as he could without getting too close. "I'm heading home now, have a great day!"

"Wait."

"Oh, I was afraid you would say that."

"Tell Jessica to report to my office."

"She said to tell you that she's not available until noon tomorrow."

"Of course," he chuckled angrily. "One person's off for the week, another needs 3 weeks of recovery. Now one of my only trustworthy members can't report for duty until tomorrow. But who's checking in on me, huh? That's right - no one. I took on this leadership role because I know firsthand what it feels like to have the only joy in your life, your only reason for living, taken away from you because of your own reckless mistakes. And despite all of that, I made it my life's mission to make sure it doesn't happen to anyone else. But now I'm the villain?! "'We're supposed to be the good guys!'" "'You can't leave them to die!'" "'They remind you of your daughter.'" But does anyone else here know the pain of losing a child you weren't even destined to have?"

Pavitr blinked heavily. "With all due respect, sir, I'm 17."

Miguel barely seemed to hear him. He sank to the floor, running his hands through his hair and not bothering to clear the glass shards around him. "Maybe they're all right. Maybe I'm the one hurting everyone else. Maybe I'll make the same mistake I did before, and take another innocent life because I want to feel fulfilled, just for a moment."

"Should I get someone?"

Miguel sighed. "Just go."

------

“Morning, sunshine,” Jessica called, taking a seat in Miguel’s office. “You had a chance to go through the file?”

Miguel hummed in agreement. “Need a second opinion.”

Jessica flipped through her copy of your file. “Teenager, been Spiderman for 2 years, originally from Earth 45, but got dropped in Ben’s world. A slippery one for sure; took nearly two hours to get them on the ground. Tried talking to them, but they wouldn't speak. I know my stance on this, but what’s yours?”

Miguel paced around the room. “We can’t keep them here. They’re an anomaly regardless of where they go. Margo said that it would be too inhumane to send them through the Go Home Machine again, so… I think we should let them go quietly.”

“Are you serious?”

“When am I not serious?” He took a seat across from Jessica. “I’ve been hearing it from everyone else. I need to hear it from someone who was there from the beginning. Someone who I trust. Am I falling off the edge? Have I gone too far?”

She raised her eyebrows. “You’re just now questioning that? Look, as your friend, I’ll say this: you’re taking too much weight onto your shoulders. You need to stop being Spiderman for a moment and start being Miguel.” She shifted in her seat. “But, as your teammate, I want you to know that I’ll be by your side no matter what you choose.”

Miguel nodded, but he was totally spaced out. All he could think about was his daughter. How he wanted to take this one in so bad, just to feel like a father again, feel like a man again. How he feared the consequences of love. 

Jessica snapped in front of his face. “Earth to Miguel.”

He shook his head. “What?”

“Look, I can’t say that I don’t agree with your initial idea. But I look at them, and at Gwen, and at my future kid, and-” She put her hand on her stomach “-I just can’t imagine leaving them in the dust like that. I was wrong about Gwen, yes, but these kids are suffering. And I don’t know if we can keep making these hard decisions that put these people right back where they were trying to escape from and still call ourselves heroes.”

Miguel held his face in his hands. “I don’t know what’s up and down anymore, right or wrong. I was all of these kids once: Miles, Gwen, Hobie. I know what it’s like to love your family so much that you throw everything else to the wayside. But that cost me my child, and thousands of other lives. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do anything to stop it. I just want to stop the suffering. I just want it to stop.”

Jessica gave him a moment. “Let’s meet the kid. Give them a trial before we make any decisions we can’t take back.”

“Alright,” he agreed, “But if you’re wrong about this-”

“Then lunch is on me. Come on, mafioso.”

------

“Here they are,” Margo announced. “Just so you know, they’re fully aware of their situation, but not very talkative.”

“Let me talk to them,” Miguel insisted. “I want to hear what they have to say.”

As Miguel and Jessica approached, you refused to meet their eyes. Instead, you drew your hood closer to your face.

Miguel took a knee by you, talking through the red barrier. “Hey, kid. My name is Miguel. Miguel O’Hara. I’m Spiderman.”

You gasped dramatically. “No way! Really? I never would have guessed!”

He took in a breath. “So you do speak. Look, we’re trying to relocate you, but we need to have your account of what happened. Why doesn’t your home exist anymore?”

You shrugged and counted off the events on your fingers. “Dalmatian-looking dude crashed through a window at my internship. He went straight for the collider room, and most of my mentors were at lunch, so I went after him. I tried to shut off the collider at the same time he stepped through it, he pushed me into a hole, that lady behind you caught me after an uncomfortably long chase, and here we are.”

“You worked at Alchemax,” Miguel mumbled, though mostly to himself.

“Yeah,” you replied, leaning back. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Did you get bitten by the radioactive spider before or after working there?”

“Did I fucking what?”

“That’s how you got your powers, right?” He asked.

“My powers? Oh, I see what’s happening here,” you laughed. “You’re all off your rockers! Let me guess, this is some alternate dimension Alchemax where everyone’s trying to biologically get the abilities that I developed through technology. Ooh ooh, or, this is an elite spider society trying to save the multiverse from itself!”

“That was really just a guess?” questioned Jessica.

“I read a lot of sci-fi,” you explained.

“Nevermind all of that,” Miguel groaned. “What’s your story, kid? What’s your motive? Because if we don’t have that information, we can’t help get you out of there.”

Your expression became grave for a moment as you considered your options and chuckled bitterly. “My story? My story is that I’m a poor kid from the slums who worked their ass off to get into a good school so that I could do better for my family. My story is that my family never loved me, my friends never cared, and I was forced to choose between what I love to do and what the world needed from me. I didn’t have the power to stop my parents from hurting me or stop people from hurting each other. So, I manufactured that power and took it into my own hands. My story is that the moment I was released from that hellhole of a world, I was locked up in a three foot wide cage and forced to talk about my feelings. I heard what you guys were talking about in that back room. All I ask is that you do it quickly. I don’t like waiting.”

“Miguel, we can take a quick debrief if you need one,” Jessica offered, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Miguel didn’t budge. He looked into your eyes and felt your pain like it was his own. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Finally: “Let them go, Margo.”

“What?” 

“You heard me,” he asserted. “Let them go.”

Margo released you and offered her hand to help you step down from the pedestal, which you reluctantly accepted. “Didn’t know you were one for sob stories, Mr. O’Hara,” you mocked, though your comment fell through as soon as your legs trembled from lack of use.

“I’m not,” he responded, walking up to you. “But I know an innovator when I see one. You’re hurt, yes, but you have the capacity to do so much good. I’m offering you a place on my team.”

You approached cautiously, your arms crossed. “And if I say no?”

“I’d ask you to reconsider.” He held out his hand for a shake. You accepted, and he smiled. “Welcome to HQ.”

Margo whooped in the background and gave your shoulder a squeeze.

------

“Ok, first mission briefing,” Miguel started, walking backwards.

“On the move?” you asked.

“That’s the only way to do it.” He shot a web to a nearby building and dropped from an HQ terrace. 

You followed suit. “Where exactly are we going?” you shouted over the wind.

“Earth 616. There’s a rogue Vulture stealing tech from Osborn. We’d let it happen, but the man's the only thing between a country of people and an all-out war.”

“Got it.”

“We go in, capture Vulture, and bring him back to HQ. Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

 You stepped through your portal and immediately got whiplash from the pure speed of a nearby aircraft. 

Vulture swooped down from above and tore the tail off of the police helicopter. It crashed into a skyscraper and gained speed as it headed for the street below. 

Miguel spoke to you through the comms. “Trial number one, newbie. I’ll pursue Vulture; you stop that helicopter from hurting civilians.”

“On it.” You dived off of your skyscraper to gain speed and pulled yourself forward with your webs. In one smooth movement, you grabbed the two co-pilots and placed them on the closest rooftop. 

The helicopter was quickly approaching the ground, where children were playing in an enclosed playground. 

“Shit,” you murmured, propelling yourself under the machine to create a landing pad for it at a safe distance from the kids. At the rate you could fire, you wouldn’t be able to stop it on time. 

In the distance, you saw Miguel struggling to keep Vulture away from a construction site, and reached out to him over the comms. “Have him ram into that crane.”

“What?”

“Just trust me.”

Miguel redirected the Vulture, dodging last second when he attacked so that the crane would fall down. 

The crane caught the chopper where it was, and you used it as a crutch to help you redirect the chaos to the empty street. You swung around the crane five times, wrapping an immense amount of webbage around it and attaching along the side of a business building. When the helicopter threatened to fall due to the weight of it, you shot three web bombs at it to keep it in place.

When you reached the ground, you were out of breath and half-heartedly waving to the clapping children and their parents. Miguel placed his hand on your shoulder as you observed the incapacitated Vulture.

“Not bad, kid,” Miguel chuckled. “Not bad.”

------

A good six months had passed, and you had risen in the ranks of the Spider Society. You were still without a place to stay, and had been bouncing from place to place in between missions. The first month, it was Pavitr and his aunt’s place. Then, Hobie’s, then HQ, and finally, Gwen’s. Most of your free time was spent discussing tech with Margo or trailing behind Miguel. 

A building-wide alert had gone off, sending every spider-being into high alert as they searched for the threat.

“What’s the sitch?” you asked Miguel as the two of you bounded down the hall. “A futuristic Rhino that’s suspected to work for The Spot just invaded HQ. He’s trying to destroy our tech and pick us off.”

Just as Miguel had finished his explanation, Rhino crashed through a door four floors below. You both zipped towards him, barely avoiding running into Peter B. as he took a picture of himself, Mayday, and Rhino. Miguel attacked Rhino head-on, performing a spin-kick to the face before webbing his arms together and latching onto his back. Rhino broke his constraints effortlessly, and threw Miguel out of a nearby window. You helped Noir get to his feet and went after Rhino.

By the time you got there, Rhino had Miguel pinned to the cracked concrete. His web shooters were broken, and he was using all of his remaining strength to stop Rhino from snapping his neck. When he saw you approaching, he tried to silently signal for you to go, but you didn’t listen.

“Hey, Alexei!” you shouted. “I never really took you for the dominant type! It doesn’t suit you.”

You swung a piece of concrete at his back and zipped to deliver a punch to the face. Rhino was quick to return the favor, and charged you through a nearby wall. 

Miguel attempted to stand up as backup arrived. He climbed onto Rhino’s back and sunk his teeth into his neck, effectively, though temporarily, paralyzing him. A team of 15 spiderbeings worked to get Rhino back to HQ while you and Jessica helped Miguel to his feet.

“What the hell were you thinking, kid? You could have died,” Miguel snapped.

“You were the one near death,” you argued. “If I didn’t come when I did, you could’ve died. Was I just supposed to let that happen?!”

“Yes!”

“No!” You dropped his arm from around your shoulder and Peter B. went to pick up the slack. “Why is it so hard for you to understand that people care about you? You gave me a chance when no one else would. I lost my world, my home, and my friends. I couldn’t lose you, too.”

“That’s not for you to decide. I can’t trust you like an adult if you refuse to act like one,” he grunted, before wavering in his stance. Jessica helped right him. 

You took a step back and pressed your lips together. “You know, I joined this team because I wanted to save people. I have the ability to save them. And… if you can’t acknowledge that ability, then… maybe you need to reevaluate your interests.” With that, you took off.

Jessica and Peter sat Miguel down to rest. 

“How bad did I fuck up?” Miguel inquired.

“Give them a few minutes to sit on it,” Peter suggested. “Kids are like that. They need time to cool off. Just make sure you talk to them later.”

------

You sat on the slanted glass roof of HQ to listen to music and blow off some steam. Heavy footprints sounded from behind you. You sighed. “If you’re here to argue, can you at least wait until the end of this song?”

“I’m not going to argue with you. I wanted to talk. And… apologize.”

That piqued your interest, but you tried to sound nonchalant as you gestured to the space next to you. “Go ahead, then. Sit.” You turned the music off.

He obliged. “I’m sorry for saying that I couldn’t trust you and that you needed to act like an adult. It wasn’t fair. I do trust you, and there’s no reason for you to act like an adult when you’re still a kid. I’ll be more conscious of my words in the future.”

You nodded. “Thanks.”

You sat in silence for a while, and you began to get up.

“Wait,” he asked. “Please.”

“What did you really come here to say?”

“Just sit, and I’ll tell you.” He waited for you to return to your spot and took a deep breath. “When I was first messing with the multiverse after working at Alchemax, I wasn’t as careful as I am now. I found a world where I was dead, but had a daughter, so I replaced myself and began raising her. I loved her more than anything. But, I was an anomaly, and had disrupted canon events. I felt her glitch right out of my hands. Thousands of innocent people died that day because of me. So, I made a vow to myself: never again. I wouldn’t let this happen to anyone else, and I wouldn’t let anyone get close to me.”

He paused, gulped, and forced himself to make eye contact with you. “Then I met you. And I tried to hate you, I really did. But you’re funny, and you’re smart and passionate, and you have a damn good heart. And everything in me just wants to protect you. I’m so mad at myself for hurting you and-”

You cut him off with a bear hug, to which he slowly responded once he understood what was happening. You shed a few tears into the crook of his neck and mumbled, “I’m sorry, too.”

He laughed, partially in disbelief. “For what?”

“I called you a dick behind your back for the first three months because I thought you had a stick up your ass.” You backed away snickering and wiped your eyes. “But you’re more my family than my parents ever were.”

Now or never, Miguel.

“About that,” he began. “I know you’ve been staying at Gwen’s place - and you’re completely free to stay there if you want - I just thought it might be nice for you to have a permanent place to stay, a school to go to, a familiar face, you know?”

“Not really,” you expressed. “What do you mean?”

“I- it’s better if I just show you.” Miguel took a folder out of his bag and handed it to you. He looked the other way as you processed what he gave you.

“Are these adoption papers?”

“Um… yeah,” he relented, still refusing to look your way. 

“And this isn’t a joke?”

“Of course not. But, it’s also up to you. I don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do-”

“Yes,” you cut him off and wrapped him in an even tighter hug. “Absolutely yes.”

------

Miguel helped you carry your few boxes of belongings that you had left at Gwen’s into his modern duplex. 

“Jesus, dude,” you commented. “You didn’t tell me you were rich.”

He laughed. “This is what being a scientist earns you.”

“Damn.” You took the space in. The windows in the living room were from floor to ceiling, the couch a cool grey with ornate yellow and green pillows. Everything was open concept, and both the Mexican and Irish flag hung on either side of the TV. Aside from the occasional painting, the apartment was largely monochromatic. 

“The kitchen is under that loft area, which I usually use as office space, but you’re free to use it, too. Bathrooms on first and second floors,” he explained while walking up the stairs. He stopped in front of the third door to the right. “This is your room.”

You gently pushed open the door. Miguel had prepared for your arrival intensely. A twin bed sat in the back left corner of the room, a desk in the back right. There was a wide panel of windows with shades and a nightstand with knick knacks. A mirror, bookshelf, decorative rug, and bean bag filled the empty space. A poster with a Spiderman symbol hung over your desk, and a smile fought its way onto your face. 

“There’s a closet, too,” Miguel said proudly.

You opened the closet to find it fully stocked with casual, formal, and tactical clothing. “You did all of this for me?”

He smiled warmly. “Welcome home.”

------

It was the following year on Father’s Day, and you were waiting for Miguel to come home when you heard keys turning at the door. 

“Hey,” you called from the kitchen island. “I made dinner for us. And we can watch that crappy comedy show that you like.”

He hung up his jacket and gave you a hug. “Thanks, sweetheart. How was it with your friends?”

“Pretty good. But it took an hour to get Miles out of that Famous Footwear. I swear that boy has enough sneakers to cover the Mediterranean. How was work?”

Miguel grabbed a plate and took a seat next to you. “Well, we finally figured out the malfunction in the control room. Hobie had been messing around with it for his own projects. Shocker, right? But other than that it was just a bunch of boring meetings.”

“Oh, I just remembered something.” You rushed upstairs to get a gift bag from your room and returned, out of breath. “I made this for you. It’s not much, but my job doesn’t start until July and I wanted to give you something, so…”

He removed the tissue paper to find a carefully knitted shawl with his suit designs on it. He remained speechless for a moment. 

“What do you think?”

“I love it.”

“Really? Cuz I could get you something else if you’d prefer-”

“I love it,” he repeated, giving you a bear hug. “I’ll wear it all the time when the weather takes a turn.”

“I thought it might be useful for winter patrols,” you admitted. 

“It will be. I know you don’t like getting too sappy, so let’s watch some TV, yeah?”

Halfway through an episode of the comedy show, you got up to use the bathroom. Miguel paused the show and admired your work on his shawl. When you came back, he was still staring at it as if he were examining each individual stitch. 

“I’m back,” you said when he didn’t acknowledge you. 

He hummed in response. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

You furrowed your brows, worried now. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not all, it’s just…” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I wanted to let you know that I would understand if you want to look into seeing if there’s any way to find your real parents. I love you and I want you here, don’t get me wrong, but if this is something you feel strongly about, I wanted to make sure you knew that my feelings wouldn’t be hurt.”

You stared at him for a while before bursting into laughter. 

“What’s so funny?”

You grabbed his hands and looked him in his eyes. “I found my real dad the moment you brought me here. I’m home.”

He squeezed your hands and repeated your words as if convincing himself of the truth. “You’re home.”

------

[theaudacitytowrite]

Stay Awake! - Part 1

Materlist

Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

A/N: An attempt at a spooky fic:) This is based on a creepy story my siblings used to tell me when we were little and back then it scared the shit out of me. Whether it really is scary is debatable^^

Time wise it starts a day before Halloween.

Also, since I only started watching SPN (on S4 currently) I'm quite sure this might be a bit off timeline wise. For example I needed an animal for the story but I have no idea when/how long Mircale is around in the series.

warnings: dolls, cursing, implied smut, bad horror (Season 1-esque storyline), Canon? What's that?

Golden divider = new day

black dividers = new setting/some time has passed

word count: 5.891

Dean’s feet lazily dragged over the ground. He groaned and huffed, sometimes a yawn would leave his throat.

„Come on, big boy. Let’s try it here.” you dragged him behind you while holding his hand so he would actually follow you.

You stepped up to the bed and breakfast, a rustic little single-family house. Dean and you were in desperate need of a place to stay the night. You had just finished a gruelling hunt and were beyond exhausted. But so far you hadn’t had any luck. All the motels in the area were booked.

“We can just sleep in Baby,” Dean muttered groggily.

“So you can whine about your sore back for the next couple of days?” you looked over your shoulder to look at him with a raised brow, “No thanks.”

"I wanna go home! My feet hurt, my back aches already and I'm tired! We've been on our feet the past 3 days!" he whined, pouting like a little overtired child.

“I know, my feet hurt just as bad and I’ve been awake just as long as you, you little baby.” you teased, “And I want to go home, too, but I don’t think it would be a good idea to drive another 5 hours to get home, while you nor I can keep our eyes open.” Dean grumbled but seemed to follow you more willingly now as he heard your reasoning.

When you entered the B&B a foul smell made its way to your nose immediately. It was sweet yet sour at the same time. You were surrounded by weird-looking paintings, figurines, and a collection of creepy dolls. It was quite dusty and weirdly gloomy in the house, and something just didn't feel right.

"Since when are bed and breakfasts worse than motels?" Dean muttered into your ear as he tried to not touch anything while walking through the small, crammed foyer to head to the unoccupied front desk.

"I don't know. We rarely visit bed and breakfasts." you shrugged as you let your gaze wander through the odd room. Dean scrunched his nose and almost pressed himself against you as he followed you like a shadow.

"Something wrong?" you glanced at him with an amused look.

"Nah." he shook his head and took a step back, "Just hurry up and ring the bell, so we can leave again."

“Leave again? You don’t think they have any vacant rooms?” you chuckled, “You’re so pessimistic.”

“I hope they have no free rooms.” Dean huffed.

"We have to tell Sam about this cosy little B&B. He'll love it here!" you snickered as your eyes roamed over the décor.

"He sure would…" Dean pressed his lips together, trying to breathe as little as possible. He bumped into you when you suddenly halted your steps, your gaze fixed on the fireplace in the next room.

"Do you see that doll?" you pointed in the direction of the fireplace. On top of it sat a little wooden doll with a rancid-looking dress. What caught your attention was, besides her size of an actual baby, her fluent movements. The doll seemed to wave in your direction, a wide grin plastered on her face.

"You mean that spawn of hell that creepily waves at us?" Dean dryly asked.

“Mhm… unnerving.” you hummed, completely focused on the doll.

„Good evening!“ the warm voice of an elderly woman suddenly chimed up, making you and Dean jump. “Oh dear, I didn’t mean to scare the two of you.”

“All good.” you chuckled, clutching your heart.

“How can I help the two of you?” the woman smiled endearingly.

“We were wondering if you still have a room available for one night. We tried every motel and hotel, but they’re all booked.”

“Yes, my dear. We still have enough rooms.” the woman quickly looked through her little notebook, “We got two with single beds and another free one with a double.”

“I wonder why…” Dean muttered next to you, earning a swift nudge from your elbow into his ribs.

“We would love to take the one with the double bed.” you smiled sweetly at the woman.

After checking in the old woman led you to your room. To your relief, the room itself was much brighter and less smelly than the foyer. And even the number of dolls was drastically lower and the décor was much more modern.

“Heh… weird.” Dean chuckled as he looked through the room.

“What?” you hummed as you rummaged through your bag.

“Isn’t that the doll that sat on the fireplace downstairs?” Dean inclined his head as he approached the doll that sat on an old commode.

“Maybe she got two?” you shrugged, heading into the bathroom to take a shower.

"Mhm." was Dean's only response as he inspected the doll. It seemed like there were no mechanics at all. Still, her motions were so fluent and lively. Dean carefully picked her up to not break her. He pulled away the crunchy feeling fabric as he searched for the battery pocket but couldn't find one, no matter where he looked.

"Must be some kind of solar thing," he murmured to himself and shrugged. He plucked down the little dress the doll was wearing when an idea popped into his mind, a mischievous grin spreading on his lips.

As you returned from the shower half an hour later and opened the door without suspecting anything bad, you jumped immediately.

“For fucks sake, Dean!” you growled as the doll sat in front of the bathroom door, smiling sympathetically at you as she waved. Dean meanwhile was giggling while lying on the bed, elated that he had scared you successfully.

“Got you!” he cackled triumphantly, making you roll your eyes at him.

“You're lucky I love you.” you grumbled.

“I know.” he smiled sweetly, before heading for a shower himself, pecking your cheek swiftly as he passed you. "Shouldn't have let your guard down..."

The two of you soon settled down in bed, overripe for a good night’s sleep. Dean was out almost immediately as his head hit the pillow. You on the other hand seemed not so lucky.

You lay wide awake in the bed, not knowing why. All you wanted to do was sleep. Maybe it was the unfamiliar surroundings, maybe it was the rest of the adrenaline from the hunt that still ran through your veins. And it didn’t help that Dean was felling trees right next to you. One day you’d smother him if he wouldn’t get that snore checked out.

You jumped slightly when there was a soft thud echoing through the room. You glanced at the clock that stood on the bedside table. A few minutes past 3a.m. You glanced at Dean who was still fast asleep, completely unbothered by the sound. He really was exhausted.

You sat up in the bed and scanned the room. You chuckled when you realised that your duffle bag had fallen from a chair onto the ground. You lay back down and sigh, trying to give sleep another try. You nuzzled against Dean who quickly encased you in a hug, pulling you against his chest. You hummed contently and finally managed to drift off to sleep.

The next morning you and Dean woke up early, quickly throwing everything into your bags before you zipped them up and quickly checked out.

The old woman wasn’t too thrilled that you declined her breakfast buffet which consisted of off-colour sausages and weirdly looking eggs. She was appeased when Dean and you at least took a bread roll each before saying your goodbyes and hurrying out of the smelly B&B.

As soon as Baby rounded the corner, you threw out the stale bread rolls in favour of stopping at a drive-in to get a quick breakfast that wouldn’t get stuck in your throat and take you out.

It was around noon when Dean and you finally arrived back at the bunker, and you quickly started to get your bags out of the car and restock the ammunition and the rest of your weapon arsenal. You'd had a lot to get done, unpacking your dirty clothes to get them washed and repacking the bags for the next hunt as soon as possible. This had been all you've been doing lately, hurrying from one case to another without getting a real break.

When you wandered into the bedroom and opened your duffle bag you almost fainted.

“DEAN! What the fuck!?” you screamed enraged.

“What?” Dean looked at you innocently as he entered your shared room.

“Don’t look at me all innocent!” you scolded him, “You know exactly what you did!”

“As much as I want to take the praise for it, …I don’t.” Dean dryly replied, smiling at you tight-lipped.

“Then please enlighten me how else this freakish thing appeared in my bag!” you pointed into your bag in which the doll from the B&B laid neatly on top of your belongings.

“Dunno.” Dean shrugged, “I swear, Y/N. I didn’t put it in there. It must’ve fallen over when we packed. I mean, I didn’t even touch your bag until you gave it to me to put it in the trunk.”

“Sure.” you glare at him, not believing a single word.

“I swear.” he chuckles, trying to get your good grace back by hugging you tightly from behind, peppering your cheeks with kisses.

“Don’t suck up now.” you giggle.

“But I gotta cheer you up.” he murmured.

“Then be a dear and throw it out. I’m not gonna touch that thing.” you muttered, looking at the doll in disdain.

“Sure thing, my love.” he gave you another peck on your cheek before unravelling his arms from your waist. He picked up the doll, holding it in front of his face. “Bye-bye, Y/N.” he tried to mimic a creepy voice as he walked backwards out of the room.

“You’re such a dork.” you chuckled, shaking your head and continuing to unpack.

It didn’t take long when you heard another shriek resound through the bunker. You quickly hurried to the source of the turmoil, coming to a halt in front of Sam’s room. You were met by Dean who was toppled over in laughter while Sam was sitting on the floor, chest heaving while the doll was sitting on his bed, smiling endearingly as she never ceased to wave.

“Dean, you’re an idiot.” you can’t help but giggle a little.

“I had to, darling.” Dean wipes away a tear he had shed from laughing so hard.

“Did you?!” Sam snarled, scrambling to get back to his feet.

“Oh come on, Sammy. T’was just a joke.” Dean grins triumphantly, shrugging innocently before patting his brother's back teasingly.

“You good, Sam?” you tried so hard to bite back a grin yourself. Sam cleared his throat and nodded.

“Now that I got the two of you here, we could talk about the agenda of the coming days.” Sam changed the topic, earning a groan from Dean.

“How about you let us come back and settle in first.” Dean huffed annoyed.

“Bobby called me repeatedly already. He needs us down at his house. He got a pressing case for us and told me to come down as soon as you two came back.”

“Can we at least have one more day?” Dean bargained, letting his head fall back, “I still need to wash my clothes, else I’ll have to wear my boxers inside out.”

“Gross.” you grimaced.

“If you wanna take the blame for the delay.” Sam hummed, raising his arms in surrender.

“I’ll handle that.” Dean scrunched his nose, “Then it’s settled, we’re going for drinks tonight.” Dean proclaimed with a cheeky grin.

“What? What about your laundry?” Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean.

“What ‘what?’?! Can’t do much while it's in the washer, now can I? Might as well grab a drink then.” Dean smirked smugly. “And I know exactly where we’ll go!” Dean waved a piece of paper around. You swiftly grabbed it from his hand. Sam peeked over your shoulder to get a glance as you read over the flyer.

“ ’Come dressed up - get a free shot’ …?” Sam read out, raising his brow sceptically “Really, Dean?”

“Admit it, you just want to dress up.” you hummed as your eyes drifted from the flyer to Dean. You almost snorted when you saw his eyes sparkle gleefully. He definitely already knew what he’d wear.

“Nonsense.” he protested nonetheless, “I just think a free shot would be neat.”

“Sure, Dean…” Sam shot him an incredulous glance and shook his head.

As you and Dean walked back to your room you could tell that he wanted you to guess what he'd wear. He stared at you expectantly, not watching where he was going.

“Let me guess…” you hummed amused, trying to hold back a laugh. “Cowboy?”

“Cowboy.” he grins giddily, nodding enthusiastically. “What’s your pick?”

“I dunno… I’m not that big on costumes.” you shrugged.

“You can’t tell me you don’t have any costumes.” Dean gasped almost offended, closing the bedroom door behind him.

“Welp… I don’t.” you shrugged, "Unless you count our disguises as a costume."

“And you’re supposed to be my girlfriend…” he tsked and shook his head in feigned disappointment. Suddenly a mischievous grin tugged on the corners of his lips. “I got an idea for the perfect costume though… and we could probably modify some of your clothes for it…”

„If you say sexy nurse, I’ll hit you,” you warn him, shooting him an unamused glare.

“Ok, no sexy nurse then…” he raises his palms in defeat, “But… I’m sure it would suit you perfectly.”

"Of course, you’d think that…“ you shake your head, rolling your eyes at him.

"I‘m being truthful.” he grins, pulling you closer by your waist. “You‘d look irresistible… but then again you look irresistible in everything." Dean purred into your ear.

"Nice try Romeo.“ you push him away gently but firmly, “I will wear something a little less cliché.”

"Was worth the try…" he shrugged, pecking your lips before letting you go to get ready.

The night at the bar was just what you needed. Dean, Sam and you drank together, bellowing to the music in the bar and indulging in old memories.

Around 3 am Dean and you came back completely hammered. Sam had opted to go home with a girl in a devil costume.

As Dean and you barged into the bunker, you were leaning on each other heavily as you giggled together. You barely made it to your bed when you fell onto the mattress. Dean immediately hugged you close to him, nuzzling into your neck as he took a deep breath. He lazily pressed a few kisses along your neck, making you squirm against him, but his lips stopped just as quickly as they had started. Soft snores resounded from him, his warm breath hitting your skin. But you couldn’t bother, you were already drifting off as well when Miracle suddenly started to growl lowly.

“Mira’ shut up.” you slurred annoyed, but Miracle wouldn’t stop. “Miracle!” you groaned, searching for a pillow around you and throwing it into the darkness.

You heard a dull sound and Miracle fell silent. You could hear him sniff around but soon darkness encased you fully as your drunken mind fell asleep.

"Y/N?" Dean called through the bunker hoarsely when he had finally fallen out of bed.

"I'm in the library," you replied, cradling your pounding head between your hands as you sat at the table. Even the smell of your coffee in front of you made you slightly nauseous. You regretted the last three shots from last night.

There was a moment of silence in which you could hear him waddle towards the library.

"Did you put that creepy doll in the kitchen?! You scared the shit out of me!" Dean’s face was still pale as he entered the library in his bathrobe. You weren’t sure if it was from the hangover or the shock. “Was that your revenge for yesterday? I swear I didn’t put it in your bag!

"I didn't.“ you mumbled slurred, not even bothering to look at Dean as your eyes were closed, „I wouldn’t have touched that thing for a lame revenge like that. Probably was Sam.” you shrugged, “He came back like an hour ago… probably wanted to pay you back.”

"Sammy!" Dean bellowed, already taking off to Sam’s room. You winced at his loud voice and groaned when you heard the brothers start to bicker.

After an agonizing hangover that lasted till late in the evening, you finally felt good enough to help Dean pack for the next morning when he'd leave with Sam. You felt extra clingy tonight even though you knew that they would probably be back in two or three days.

But as the tradition dictated, Dean and you cuddled in bed together before going to sleep.

"When do you have to leave again tomorrow?" you murmured against Dean’s skin as you lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"We gonna leave at… like 7.30-ish?" Dean hummed, his hand lazily running up and down your spine.

“That early?” you whined to which Dean chuckled. He softly kissed your forehead, wrapping his arms tighter around you and holding you close.

“The earlier we leave, the earlier we get back,” he mumbled against your neck.

“And how long will you be gone?” you huffed against him.

“A day, maybe two?” Dean hummed, “So you only have a single night without your handsome and wonderful man.” he grinned against your skin, making you chuckle.

“Now that I’m thinking about it, I can probably survive a night without you.” you retorted in feigned annoyance.

“Oh really?” he smirked, starting to tickle your sides.

“Hey! No! Stop!” you started to squirm against him, trying to wriggle away from his attack. Dean grinned triumphantly as he continued to tickle you for a moment before stopping.

“Still think you gonna be fine without me?” he looked at you challengingly.

“More than ever.” you grinned cheekily, biting your lip.

“Don’t be mean now…” Dean murmured, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

“Mhm… ok… maybe that’s something I’m gonna miss…” you smiled against his lips.

“Is that so?” Dean smirked smugly, giving you a passionate kiss, “I can remind you of a few more things you gonna miss.” he grinned, swiftly flipping you to lay on the mattress. You yelped in surprise as he towered over you, trailing hungry kisses down your skin, making you gasp in delight.

You groaned softly when you woke up in the middle of the night without seemingly any reason. At first, you thought it was thanks to Dean’s snoring. As you glanced at your alarm clock it was shortly after 3am… again.

It seemed to become a daily occurrence for you to wake up around that time, you just couldn’t understand why. Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a soft shuffling around your bed. You tensed for a moment, glancing around the room. Your eyes landed on the slightly ajar door that you were sure had been closed when Dean and you went to bed.

You rolled your eyes amused at yourself for being scared for a moment when Miracle had probably just pushed open the door to get to his sleeping spot at the foot of your bed.

You nuzzled back into your pillow, closing your eyes to go back to sleep when there suddenly resounded what could only be described as a giggle. Your eyes widened immediately, and your hands tightened on your blanket.

You swallowed hard as you listened into the darkness.

"Dean!" you whispered. No response. You began to shake him slightly, "Dean, wake up!" you whisper-yelled panicked.

"Hmm… what's wrong." Dean groaned sleepily as he began to stir awake.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That giggle!" the fear in your voice was apparent.

"Giggle? Go back to sleep Y/N, your imagination is playing tricks on you."

The floorboards softly creaked making you jump.

"Did you hear that!" you almost shouted.

"Yes, I did. It's just the wood settling, telling you to get some sleep. Nothing more." Dean mumbled, pulling you closer to him before he fell right back to sleep. You rolled your eyes at him.

"Thanks, douchebag…" you muttered, pulling your covers up to your nose and staying alert.

Every creak and crack made you scoot even closer to Dean until you were pressed against him completely. You battled with falling asleep as exhaustion seeped into your bones but once the clock struck 6am the bunker fell silent apart from Dean’s snores. Your eyelids became just too heavy to keep open and soon you were fast asleep.

"Outch!" you cried out, clutching your hip. You were still half asleep when you pottered around in the kitchen. When you had turned around your hip crashed into the open standing cutlery drawer, "For god’s sake Dean! How often do I have to tell you to close these damn drawers!" you hissed in pain at Dean who sat on the table, nursing his coffee. He looked up, startled for a moment.

"I wasn't even near that drawer," he replied groggily, his hand rubbing over his cheek.

"Sure." you grumbled, “That seems to be your standard excuse.”

"No, for real! I only got my coffee. Don’t need cutlery for that." he defended himself and held up his cup. You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Don't give me that look Y/N!" Dean warned you jokingly, "I swear, I'm telling the truth. Maybe you opened it in your delirium and forgot about it."

"Maybe." you grumbled as you took a spoon out of the drawer and closed it, "But you can't blame me. I slept awful."

"Why? Didn’t I tire you out enough?” Dean smirked into his mug, “You seemed really exhausted when we fell asleep…”

“Sometimes I wanna smack your pretty face…” you sighed, shooting Dean an unamused glare, "I woke up in the middle of the night because I thought that I had heard somebody or something shuffling through the house. There was creaking and giggling the whole night."

"Giggling?" Dean drawled amused, raising a brow at you.

" I know it sounds weird but I know what I’ve heard.”

“Maybe it was just the whistling of the wind or something like that." Dean shrugged dismissively, “Maybe Miracle whined in his sleep."

"Cause I can’t tell the difference between a dog whine and a giggling sound?" you scoffed, “Miracle wasn’t even in our room last night cause of certain activities…”

“Maybe you were making up things in your post-blissful haze.” Dean grinned cheekily, immediately receiving a hit against his shoulder, “Ow!” he chuckled, “Why are you being so mean to me lately?”

“I’m not mean! You’re just a dick at the moment.”

“Am not!” Dean protested amused, rubbing his arm, “You’ve been on my case ever since we returned from our hunt.”

“Because you started the war with the doll!”

“I didn’t do that!” Dean laughed, “But maybe that’s why you’re so jumpy. Your subconsciousness still tries to get over that little scare.”

"I’m a hunter, Dean. Spooky shit is my daily bread, so I doubt that a little doll could scare me into hallucinating sounds at night.” you scoffed, “And it's not like I was dreaming. I was wide awake!"

"So, you wanna tell me some creature scampered through the bunker last night?” Dean looked at you sceptically, “I would’ve heard it as well. I mean, I was right next to you… Wait a minute… is that why you tried to wake me up last night? It feels like we talked about this already."

"Yeah… and you jackass fell right back asleep.” you huffed, “You wouldn’t have heard a fire alarm over your snoring!”

“I don’t snore!” Dean scoffed offended.

“Oh trust me, you do.” you huffed dramatically, “And yes, I know, there wasn't anybody scampering around… I just. I don't know, ok? Something just felt… off."

"It was probably the wood settling over the night. The nights are getting colder now, the wood draws together.” Dean reasoned, gently rubbing your arm up and down in a soothing motion.

"Presumably…" you mumbled unconvinced.

"And the most plausible," Dean added with a shit-eating grin.

"Bite me!" you quipped, glaring at him as you shrugged off his hand.

"You know, only in our bedroom!" he called after you with a cheeky grin as you walked out of the kitchen, flipping him off.

When the boys left the bunker to drive down to Bobby, you left with them through the garage, saying your goodbye to them before heading in the other direction towards the town to get some groceries so you wouldn’t have to get takeout yet again. Sam, Dean, and you had been almost exclusively on the road for the last couple of months, so the pantry looked quite meagre while other chores had piled up around the bunker. You would have to get to them as soon as you came back from grocery shopping and running a few errands as well.

Around noon you finally found yourself back at the bunker, the trunk of your car filled with multiple bags and the dry cleaning you had picked up on your way. Dean and Sam had the bad habit of wearing their suits until they started to reek and would bring almost every suit they owned to the dry cleaning at once. Usually, you refused to bring or pick up the clothes since it was hard to carry the 10+ suits back and forth but you actually had to pick up a coat of your own, so you tried to be a doting girlfriend and friend for once and picked all of the clothes up.

Just as you killed the engine and tried to figure out how you could carry everything inside without having to take too many trips, your phone began to ring.

"Perfect timing, Mister Winchester." you chuckled as you accepted the call.

"Just came home?" his raspy voice resounded from the speakers. He sounded tired.

"Yup, had a busy day already. How’s the trip going? Taking a break?”

"Sammy had to stretch out his freakishly long legs.” Dean hummed and you could hear a muffled ‘Hey!’ in the background.

“But traffic’s ok?”

“So far, it’s been a breeze. We almost passed the halfway mark, we should get to Bobby around 6pm if we’re lucky.” Dean hummed.

“Where are you right now?” you asked curiously, getting out of the car to walk around to the back.

“Somewhere in the middle of Missouri… I think.”

“How’s it there? Any better than in Kansas?” you tried to keep Dean talking, already missing his voice. You pinned your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you opened the trunk and got the first few bags out of it, walking towards the bunker's main entrance.

“Slightly better weather-wise but I'd much rather be with you right now," Dean murmured into your ear.

"Aw, you're sweet. I'd love that too… then I wouldn't have to carry in all these suits that I picked up at the dry-cleaner's and all these groceries on my own." Dean only snickered on the other end of the line, “We really have to get them cleaned in more reasonable batches instead of every single suit you guys have been wearing till they smell.”

"So, what do you have planned for tonight?" Dean tried to change the subject.

"Not much," you said while fishing for your keys in your coat pocket while balancing the grocery bags on your leg, "Maybe do some of my laundry.”

Dean could hear you unlock the front door and suddenly you screamed and there was a thud.

"Y/N?" Dean asked concerned, his brows furrowing as he listened attentively for any sounds.

"Dean what the heck! Was that necessary?" you panted into the speaker as you picked up your phone from the ground.

"Was what necessary?" he asked confused.

"Don't act so innocent. You have to stop with those pranks!" you laughed, your heart still racing, "You scared the shit out of me. Again. Congratulations!"

"…and with what exactly?" Dean chuckled bemused.

"The doll you sat directly behind the door?"

"Ahh… erm… yeah. Got you!" he forced a laugh. Hadn’t he thrown that weird thing out before they went to the bar 2 days ago? Maybe Miracle had found it in the trash outside and dragged it back inside.

"Ok?" you raised an eyebrow and kicked the doll out of your way, "Moving on. Please remember to tell Cas that he has to come by the next couple of days for the translation of the Enochian we found." you carried the bags towards the kitchen.

“Why me?” Dean grumbled.

“Cause Cas only answers your calls…” you hummed amused. Dean sighed exasperated.

"Yes, sweetheart, I will." he groaned.

The rest of the day you busied yourself with the chores. You started a load of your and Dean’s sheets while tidying your shared room, vacuuming, and dusting off every surface. Afterwards, you busied yourself with restocking the pantry and cleaning out the fridge from unidentifiable containers of what arguably had been food at some point in time.

After cooking yourself a late dinner you let yourself fall into a recliner in the Dean cave. Miracle joined you, getting a few bites of your pasta dish as the two of you watched a movie. In the middle of the movie, your phone vibrated, notifying you of a goodnight text from Dean and the info that he and Sam were on their way back to the bunker and should be back around noon. You quickly send back your reply before stashing the phone into the side of the recliner and turning your attention back to the movie.

You didn’t even realise how tired you were until you woke up in the middle of the night to a completely dark room. The TV must’ve shut off a while ago and Miracle was nowhere to be seen.

You sighed as you tried to wake up enough to get up and wander back to your room. That’s when you realised that you had forgotten to put the sheets back onto the bed after you had washed them and put them into the dryer. You groaned and shuffled in the opposite direction to the laundry room. You didn’t bother turning on the lights, hoping you would be able to fall asleep quicker if you didn’t get blinded by the harsh lights of the bunker.

As you gathered all the sheets out of the dryer you hummed in delight as the scent of freshly washed laundry filled your nose. You couldn’t wait to fall asleep while being encased in this heavenly smell. Your thoughts were rudely interrupted when Mircale suddenly started to bark out of nowhere.

“What is it, Miracle?” you called out annoyed. Maybe he was scolding you for not being in your room when he wanted to sleep, “I’ll be there in a sec…”

You were a little confused when his barking turned into growls and snarls.

“Miracle, what’s your deal?” you groaned.

Your heart stopped beating for a moment, your eyes widening as you froze in the doorway. You swallowed hard and tried to pull yourself together. This probably was just a nightmare. Or as Dean would tell you right now, just the wood settling. Very amused Wood being in a giggly mood…

You felt a chill run down your spine when you heard it again.

The giggling.

“H-hello?” you asked into the darkness, thinking that maybe Dean had already talked to Cas who had come by.

But you never got a response. And usually, Miracle wouldn’t snarl at Cas either, nor would Cas sound like a giggling toddler. So, this was more than odd.

Your stomach felt queasy as you crept up towards your room cautiously. Your heart was dancing tango in your chest. Suddenly you heard pitter-patter grow louder behind you and without another thought you booked it to your room, not even looking back. As soon as you reached your room, Miracle scurried in after you and you slammed the bedroom door close.

You panted as adrenaline shot through and your brain was slowly processing what just had happened. You began chuckling and shook your head amused.

“Miracle, you scared me.” you chuckled slightly relieved and a bit amused that you got scared that easily when a sudden slam against the door made your heart sink again.

You quickly locked the door, backing away immediately and stumbling backwards a few steps until the back of your knees hit the mattress. You threw the washed sheets onto the bed, your eyes never leaving the door as you searched for Dean’s emergency blade under the bed. Once you had the knife secured in your hand you searched for your phone in desperation. It slowly dawned on you that you had forgotten your phone on the recliner, so you had no chance of calling the boys for support. But then again, they probably couldn’t help you in your situation right now anyway since they were still thousands of miles away from the bunker. All you could do was wait it out until they came back and stand on guard.

At some point during the night, you gathered the courage to slide a chair under the handle of the door before you sat down on your bed again. You didn’t hear anything anymore outside of the door, but you didn’t trust the silence one bit. You invited Miracle into the bed for emotional support. Dean would kill you if he found out that you had let the dog sleep in bed with you, but you didn’t really care right now.

Harsh pounding against the door jerked you awake. You had no idea how late it was or when you had fallen asleep. You almost fell to the ground when you scrambled out of bed.

“Darling? Y/N?! Are you in there?” Dean’s worried voice resounded from the other side of the door, the handle turning frantically as he continued to knock against the door.

You quickly scurried to the door and pulled the chair away before you opened the door, trying to act as nonchalant as possible.

“You’re back.” you tried to sound enthusiastic, but the grogginess was quite apparent on your face.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Dean asked worried, grabbing your shoulders as he inspected you, “What happened? Why did you lock yourself in our room? You look pale.”

“N-nothing.” you stammered sheepishly. You didn’t want to tell Dean what had happened. He probably wouldn’t believe you and tell you that you had probably just imagined it again. Or he’d turn it around and tease you about ‘how much you had missed him’ and that ‘your strong, handsome man was back to protect you from bad dreams again’. And you really didn’t need that right now, especially with the lack of proper sleep.

“Look who we brought,” Sam announced suddenly, making you sigh relieved as the conversation was stirred away from you when Sam stepped aside to reveal Cas tagging along behind him.

“You look awful.” Cas greeted you in his monotone voice.

“Hi, Cas… nice to see you, too.”

Taglist: @hellowgoodbye @fuckyoutommie @loz-3 @whorefordean @kayful00595 @drasticemotions @deans-spinster-witch @tweakingin2 @winharry @jackles010378 @marvelfanfn2187a113

Divider by @talesmaniac89

[seriousbrat]

I'm so relieved we share similar opinions on The Marauders vs Fred and George! Every time I read an elaborate multi-step plan to dye Slytherin's robes red or something, I'd think "this feels off!". I try to find a middle ground in my imagination, because being a magic school, every day bog-standard mischief has got to look at least a little bit whimsical - and James and Sirius earned themselves a reputation of troublemakers somehow. But imagine they'd be more likely to get into trouble exploring the limits of the castle and its magic (not sure if you consider Cursed Child as semi canon, but trying to get out of a moving Hogwarts Express is a good example), and they'd be really smug about knowing how to get around the forest or the best spot to swim in the lake, but not that interested in cheering and applause from the great hall tables for doing some spectacular display of magic. The fact that the most advanced magic they achieved for their age (becoming animagus!) was a well kept secret has got to say something about their type of showmanship. But much like Fred and George (maybe even better), they'd 100% be in charge of throwing parties.

Yeah!! I agree, I definitely think they were darker in tone than Fred and George. Their public stunts seemed to be centred around hexing random students and they were definitely willing to be fairly vicious about it-- they were to Snape, and Bertram Aubrey's head swelling sounds comical but it probably wasn't for Aubrey-- so I don't see why they'd restrict themselves to silly harmless pranks of the sort F&G would pull. I never like reading fics where they have pranking wars or whatever haha.

And you're right that their greatest achievements were kept secret from everyone. They were defined by their secrets! The password-protected Marauders Map, the Invisibility Cloak, their Animagi status. Even their inside knowledge of Remus's condition is what I feel brought them together in a new way.

I almost feel like the times they got into trouble was out of carelessness or cockiness. They obviously didn't mind getting in trouble for attacking other students and the times they got caught sneaking around they were probably being reckless. Nobody ever figured out the map, the cloak, or that they were Animagi while they were at school, so they were careful when it counted.

[heiayen]

every love story started somewhere - childe/dainsleif/zhongli x reader

summary: different beginnings of you and him across different universes

tags: how the relationship with him started, except every character is different universe !! dainsleif with fantasy universe, childe with canon universe, zhongli with modern universe. pre-relatioship, 350-450 words per character.

notes: hello. this is for @dumbificat for the kiss (don't tell!) event held by @ecrin-de-litterature <3 i was going to include more characters but alas i couldn't </3 still. hope you'll enjoy !!

Leaving the snowy plains of your home was hard. You grew up there, you made friends and learned so much, gained so many precious memories of the people, of the places, of a ginger boy and his toothy smile, freckles, and stick swords you used to fight the imaginary monsters. Leaving the child in yourself that was forced to grow up, to run away with your family somewhere better, warmer than the bone-freezing chill of Snezhnaya. 

But you promised one thing to yourself– and to the ginger boy, that you would never forget him. You would find a way to talk to him again, you promised, gripping his hand hard. 

And you did. 

Many, many letters were sent to each other. Simple at first, with the help of your parents writing down your thoughts, and when you finally learned how to properly write you wasted no time writing your own letter to him, for the first time. Your handwriting was crooked, the letter was short and was rather nonsensical, but it was yours. 

Written by your own hands. 

The letters continued for weeks, months, and years, and it was the only constant in your life. Something to cling onto, something that you knew would always be here, even if it took AJAX three months to reply, even when you stopped talking to him for some when he first joined the Fatui, heartbroken that he would agree to that. 

(He didn’t stop writing. 

One day, you looked at the small pile of letters he sent you during that time, and suddenly, something broke in you and you wasted no time grabbing a piece of paper and a pen and pouring all your feelings into the ink.)

Till one day, while walking down the liyuean streets, you spotted someone. The same ginger hair, the same freckles– now visible even more and the same smile upon noticing you in the crowd. 

You smiled, happiness filling you up and you waved to him, gripping the handle of your bag tighter in excitement. How many years have passed, spent on writing letters from your last meeting? At least ten? More? Honestly, you stopped counting after five.

When he waved back, you wasted no time running to him. 

The promise you and Ajax made back as kids finally came true and for the first time in years, you were together.

The wizard living in that tower was said to be… cursed.

Dangerous, meddling with dark, unknown to many dark magic that could bring only despair and tragedy. The magic itself cursed him, surely, it was the punishment for going against the divine laws. He brought it upon himself and now had to live with the consequences. Not ever again in his life, he would be able to enjoy the warmth of life how he used to.

DAINSLEIF was convicted of a lonely, cruel fate, and that was simply how the stars wrote for him. He couldn’t rewrite them– nothing could, and something once set in motion couldn’t be stopped.

…or so he thought because then, you appeared. 

They could call you some kind of neighbors, living in towers close to each other but rarely talking. He had no reason to strike up conversations with you, not even thinking you would want to talk to him. No one wanted to talk to… abomination like him, as they called him.

And yet here you were, seemingly not caring about all the rumors and gossip people talked about him. You knew he was cursed, but… he didn’t look like a bad man. Not one to talk, yes, sure, aloof at times and confusing you with his words or actions, maybe a little eccentric at times but you saw him use magic, by simply an accident and, truly, the wizard in you couldn’t help but look at him in awe. His magic was different, nothing like you saw in the books or scrolls, frightening you a little, but it was… something new. Different. Charming your hungry for knowledge brain and so, you wished to know the cursed wizard more. 

Step by step, day by day you tried and tried, and never gave up on trying to talk to him, to know him better. A part of you was screaming loudly, how stupid you were to try to talk with someone like him, someone dangerous?

And you knew this part of you was right. Nothing you learned about him seemed like something good, it all screamed troubles and bad things in general, but–

(Another part of you knew that you weren’t so different. You, too, knew how it felt to be left alone to fate, how it is to become an outcast with nowhere to go. 

You had your own burdens, after all, and the stars were not kind you to either.)

Your effort wasn’t in vain when one day, while tending to the flowers in your garden, you saw no one else but the wizard, standing near, looking as if he came here for a reason.

You let him in, smiling. 

It was a start of something new, something blooming between you. Of something you promised to care deeply and tend to, till it would grow beautiful and healthy.

It was terribly raining that day, you remembered. You were cold, your umbrella broke because of the wind, your clothes were all wet and the only open shop you saw on the street was an antique shop. You wasted no time opening the doors, a plea to let you stay till the rain calms down ready on your tongue– and then you saw the owner of this place, his warm eyes, hidden behind round glasses and his smile, oh, his smile…

You blinked owlishly, you remembered. You opened your mouth, closed it, pointed at the rain behind the window, asked if you could stay and he let out a gentle laugh, inviting you inside the shop. You felt yourself smiling in answer and walked further inside, leaving the broken umbrella somewhere away– to not accidentally hit anything.

His name was ZHONGLI, you remembered him introducing himself over a cup of tea he got to warm you up. You politely declined the tea first, not wanting to bother him too much, but still agreed in the end. He even offered you a spare umbrella, and you found yourself at an even bigger loss of words than earlier. How kind it was of him, to help a complete stranger like you when you only asked to let you spend a moment in his shop?

You two ended up talking about the antique painting and books he had in his shop, you remembered. He had so many books on his shelves, about so many different topics. Medicine, history, mythology, and even classic literature. And it seemed as if he read them all himself, with how much he told you about the collection in his shop. Every single item here was deeply cared about.

You didn’t care about antique items, not until you heard the passion Zhongli talked about them. Everything he had in his shop had its own story, one he seemed happy to share with you. A little doll once owned by a girl that later became a pianist, a well-used history book, once owned by a history student. A beautiful painting created by an older man’s mother– he didn’t knew what to do with it anymore, and he believed Zhongli’s antique shop would be the safest place for the painting to be.

How beautiful it was…

When the rain stopped, you took the umbrella he gave you and left, with a warm feeling deep inside your chest and a promise you visit this little antique shop again. 

To give him back his umbrella, to talk with him more. To listen to him and learn a little more about love.

[queers-gambit]

House of the Dragon masterlist

requesting rules and masterlist

requests are OPEN where to watch: HBO

Sands of Time

before his Bronzed Bitch, all he had was her. amongst the smoke of salt, sea, and war, Daemon gambles with more than he ever wanted.

word count: 5.4k+

🙊 general language and content warning 🔥 NSFW 💔 angst 🥊 depiction of (canon-typical) physical violence or aggression ⚠️⏳ show spoilers and AU timeline 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

part two: The Battle Above the God's Eye

decades after the Stepstones, it's his turn to be rescued.

word count: 5.5k+

🎭 drama 💔 angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort ⏳ AU timeline ⚠️ spoilers 🙊 general language and warning content 🐍 toxic family 🥊 feuding families 😵‍💫 wonky brain go wonky 🩸 depiction of injury and blood 🤍 fuck it - dragon!rider!reader [ not a Targaryen } 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

Split in Two

the Targaryen Curse prevails.

word count: 2.8k+

🙊 general language and content warning 🍼 depictions of traumatic birth 💔 angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

Blue Moon Wreckage

you don't consult your husband, Daemon, about taking in your orphaned baby brother and this causes conflict in your relationship.

word count: 4.3k+

🙊 general language and content warning 🥀 misogyny (old-fashion views on marriage) 🍼 talk of child abandonment ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 🐍 toxic family 🍄 borderline toxic relationship 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

Midnight Calls masterlist

( completed ) your Prince summons you, a married woman, to the Throne Room one evening. so ensues your lovestory.

total word count: 44.5k+ total story parts: 6

🍒 author's favorite 🙊 general language and content warning 💦 smut 🔥 NSFW 💔 angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 🍄 toxic relationship(s) 🐍 toxic family...? 🔏 barely edited 🥊 depiction of physical violence or aggression 😵‍💫 wonky brain go wonky 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

Tell Me Every Terrible Thing And Let Me Love You Anyway

you embark on a secret but passionate affair with the Rogue Prince, and when his wife, Rhea Royce, passes away, he chooses you to wed next - a decision that angers his niece and changes history.

⚠️ mild show spoilers 🙊 general language and content warning 😵‍💫 wonky brain is wonky ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 💔 angst 🔥 mild NSFW (brief female receiving oral) ⏳ technically AU timeline 1️⃣ written after season one

part one: read here word count: 5.6k+ part two: read here word count: 6.3k+

Not All That Glitters is Gold

during your engagement dinner, you learn from your fiancé's niece that he holds choice words about you. or finding out he calls you clingy behind your back.

word count: 3.1k+

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

🙊 general language and content warning 🎭 drama 💔 mild angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort ⏳ AU timeline 💣 relationship angst 🔏 not edited 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

Daddy Takes Care

in comparison, your first pregnancy was a cakewalk. this time around? not so much. good thing Daemon's there to help where he can.

word count: 6.4k+

🙊 general language and content warning 🍑 named character ( daughter named Visenya ) 💔 angst ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 🍼 depiction of difficult pregnancy and symptoms by an author who's never been pregnant 🔏 not edited 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

Bloodhounds

you and your husband have a different kind of foreplay that include disguises, sneaking out of the castle, and sometimes, fucking in an alleyway... Or two.

word count: 5.7k+

💦 smut 🔥 NSFW 🙊 general language and content warning 🔏 barely edited 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

Creepy Crawlies

Aemond and Helaena witness how deep your fear goes.

word count: 1.7k+

🕷 spiders 🙊 general language and content warning 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

Mother Knows No Bounds

being Rhaenyra's daughter means taking on Alicent's generational anger, and one day, she takes it too far.

word count: 5.7k+

🙊 general language and content warning 💚 vilified!Alicent 💔 angst 🤮 depiction of physical illness 🐍 toxic family 🕊 depiction of lost pregnancy 💛 requires maturity and caution 1️⃣ written after season one

❗️ depictions of potentially triggering content - please read all warnings before continuing ❗️

read here

When Pride Married Prejudice series masterlist

she is the (only) trueborn daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Lord Laenor Velaryon. after her younger brother, Lucerys, slices out the eye of their uncle, Aemond Targaryen, her hand is offered as payment to keep the peace. though unexpected, she finds herself in a loving marriage, until devastating news forces her to make an impossible choice.

total word count: 97.1k+ total story parts: eight + two 2-part alternative endings

⚠️ book and show spoilers 🍒 author's favorite 🙊 general language and content warnings 💦 smut 🔥 NSFW 💔 angst 🎭 drama 🐍 toxic family 🥊 depiction of physical violence or aggression ⏳ AU timeline 😵‍💫 wonky brain go WONKY ✅ completed series 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

Dornish Wine, Weddings, and Bruised Knuckles

your best friend's getting married and you've got a thing for her brother. during the bachelorette party, you learn maybe your affection wasn't so one-sided after all.

-> modern AU

word count: 11.1k+

🎭 drama 💔 small angst 🧸 small fluff 🥰 romance 💦 smut 🦋 modern AU 🙊 general language and content warning 🥊 depiction of physical violence or aggression 🧃 implied character age-up (legal to drink) 🔏 barely edited 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

You Might Think It's Foolish

meeting your boyfriend's family for the first time creates anxiety, so, you stick to his side. at dinner, his mother calls out your clinginess - and Aemond doesn't defend you. -> or when someone else calls you clingy and he doesn't defend you / agrees with them.

word count: 3.1k+

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

-> modern AU

🎭 drama 💔 angst 🥺 hurt 🚫 no comfort 💣 relationship angst 🐝 stand alone 🙊 general language and content warning 🐍 toxic family 🍄 toxic relationship...? 🦋 modern AU 🔏 barely edited 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

"Plan To Make A Gift of It To My Lover"

ten years ago, Lucerys claimed Aemond's eye, and now, a Lannister will claim her debt.

-> soon to be merged into a developing series but will leave this version up. Lannister Reader will become Velaryon <-

word count: 5.5k+

🎭 drama 🐑 filler ⚠️ spoilers ⏳ small AU timeline 🐝 stand-alone 🙊 general language and content warning ☠️ character death 💛 requires maturity and caution 🩸 deranged characters / blood lust 🔏 barely edited 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

Confection Invention

how Sansa Stark's favorite dessert, lemon cakes, came to be after discovering your husband's never had a nameday cake.

word count: 3.5k+

🧸 fluffy fluff fluff 🥰 small romance 💍 established relationship 🍒 author's favorite 🐝 stand alone 1️⃣ written after season one

read here

Give Every Man Thy Ear, But Few Thy Voice

similar to Penelope Featherington, you overhear your best mate's choice words about you after dancing at a ball.

word count: 18.3k+

🎭 drama 💔 angst 🥀 unrequited love 🥺 hurt 🚫 NO comfort 💣 relationship angst 👯‍♀️ BFF trope 🍒 author's favorite 🐝 stand alone / oneshot 🙊 general language and content warning 🍄 toxic relationship 🥂 alcohol mentions 💛 requires maturity and caution 🚺 misogyny 😵‍💫 wonky brain go wonky 🫠 depiction of self-destruction 🍑 character with given nickname ⏳ AU timeline 🦻 eavesdropping trope ❗️ single, non-graphic line that alludes suicide as an unserious threat to convey displeasure 🚹 men 2️⃣ written after season two 🔏 not edited

read here

The Black Dread series masterlist

after word is sent for Dragonseeds to raise up, you shockingly claim The Black Dread. knowing your stance would all but determine the war, both Alicent and Rhaenyra send emissaries to persuade your allegiance through means of marriage. when tragedy strikes, you fly to war.

total word count: TBD total story parts: TBD

🍒 author's favorite 🔞 ALL characters aged 18+ ⏳ AU timeline 🙊 general language and content warning

-> TBC until writing concludes

read here

The Black Dread series masterlist

after word is sent for Dragonseeds to raise up, you shockingly claim The Black Dread. knowing your stance would all but determine the war, both Alicent and Rhaenyra send emissaries to persuade your allegiance through means of marriage. when tragedy strikes, you fly to war.

total word count: TBD total story parts: TBD

🍒 author's favorite 🔞 ALL characters aged 18+ ⏳ AU timeline 🙊 general language and content warning

-> TBC until writing concludes

read here

requesting rules and masterlist

[hollowed-theory-hall]

What do you think Voldemort's sexuality is?

Well, it could honestly be anything since we don't really know. Like, you can headcanon away pretty securely here because Voldemort's romantic endeavors aren't something that's explored in the books. (I do not count Cursed Child as canon)

I'm not very fussed about whether he's attracted to men, women, both, or neither, I think the more interesting question here is how Tom Riddle/Voldemort views sex and romance. In connection with himself, that is.

Because Tom is interesting in that respect, he's both incredibly distrusting and doesn't allow himself to get too attached, but at the same time, he is desperate for a real human connection and understanding. This kinda leads me to believe Tom likes the idea of romance but thinks himself incapable of it (whether he's aro or not, doesn't actually matter, it's more about what he thinks about it). I think Tom/Voldemort is likely to convince himself he is above plebian things such as romantic attachment and love, not because he doesn't want it (he does, even if he won't say it) but because he fears he's incapable of it. I think he would like the concept of someone who is his, but he also never really saw a good healthy relationship, and his views on what a romance is are a little skewed. But because of his fear that he can't experience these feelings — this sort of attachment — he would convince himself it isn't a weakness or failure on his part, but a strength. He doesn't need to busy himself with such frivolous pursuits.

I think sex is actually something Tom/Voldemort would find easier to be interested in. Sex is a physical need, it's about practicality. Viewing sex in this cold and logical way is something Tom would have an easier time getting behind. He knows how to deal with things people need and want. So, I think a purely physical relationship without the romantic side would be easier for Tom to rationalize and keep his act with. Because real romance requires emotional vulnerability, which... yeah, Voldemort's not great at that.

With a romantic relationship (if he were to have one), I think he would get sentimental, but he's going to be really weird about it. I mean, full-on control freak, obsessive Voldemort. It's not going to be pretty and very few partners are probably going to be able to handle it. I also don't see Tom/Voldemort allowing himself emotional vulnerability, it'll take a while to wear him down, but beneath all his walls, he really does want human connection. And once he has one, I imagine he'd be pretty damn possessive and protective of it.

Tom is not really about give-and-take relationships, though, it's his way or the highway, which doesn't really work in a healthy relationship. He likes to have control over everything. He would want to continue his academic magical pursuits and he wouldn't allow a relationship to get in his way, but he would also be very protective of this one real connection and wouldn't let anything get in its way. I think Tom would love a lot of attention from his partner, honestly. I think he'd thrive on being the most important person for someone.

Basically, Tom Riddle/Voldemort isn't dating material for a healthy human being, but I think that's obvious.

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

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1. Looking for a smut fic I remember reading. WWX was testing an invisibility talisman and ended up in the jingshi in time to watch LWJ masturbating, and rode him after he fell asleep. LWJ woke up and made WWX get rid of the invisibility after a bit. I think it was a roleplay between the two but I'm not fully sure

FOUND! Clinomania by malkinmalkout (E, 6k, wangxian, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Somnophilia, misuse of talismans, PWP, Riding, Oral Sex, binding, Happy Ending, canon typical non-con)

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2. Hi! So I'm looking for this one fic, I remember that it was set in post-canon & Wangxian go to help this village, I remember that the Juniors (all four) followed them without their knowledge & the village had a barrier preventing people from leaving, the village had a curse where they got to see their close-ones negative memories, the juniors learnt of what actually happened to WWX & the villain turns out to be a "god" like on Dafan, it had 4 chapter (I think) & was finished. @i-like-snakes-and-spiders

FOUND? Down comes the night by danegen (E, 67k, wangxian, Alternate Universe, Canon Era, inspired by From, Horror, Sharing a Room, POV LWJ, no jiangs, a whole village of OCs, tiny mention of past wwx/omc, Happy Ending)

FOUND? unhappy stories with happy endings by Last_for_Hell (M, 30k, WangXian, Memories, Memory Fic, Kinda, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, sexual content maybe, References to Torture, PTSD, Characters Watching Their Series, kinda, but not entirely, very light consensual non-consent)

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3. good day! 😊 I read this fic before and I know that I've bookmarked it but I can't find it in the list. So the story is after wwx fell, baoshan sanren and lan yi rescued him, nursed him back to health, and waited for him to wake up. I remember that when he woke up, they also taught him cultivation (he got a new sword). He also hid his face (i think he also wore a different name and different voice(?)). There's a yi city scene where xxc asked them who they were because he cant see, then bssr is also with them at that time. thank yoooooou! 💓💓💓

FOUND! Until The End by abCEE (M, 365k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, war changes people, resulting to OOC, no pinning, Established Relationship, Mpreg, Good Uncle LQR, a little grey LWJ, a bit of JC bashing from LWJ, BAMF JYL, 16 years of yearning, mainly CQL verse but has scenes from the novel as well, LSZ is WangXian's Child, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Canon Rewrite, Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts)

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4. hi, I hope you can help me find this fic I've been looking for, I'm sorry I don't really remember much, just that WWX can cook non-spicy food but he does it on purpose, it might have been because of his time in the streets? or because someone would take his food? (maybe JC???)

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5. I cannot for the life of me remember anything else about the fic but I think it was cql based with lwj as chief cultivator? wwx returned to cloud recesses and the first thing he did was beat someone up for saying horrible things about lwj. I can't remember if it was multichapter or not so it might have been in the middle of a longfic?

FOUND? 🔒make this chaos count by devotedbones (E, 15k, WangXian, Post-Canon, CQL Compliant, canon compliant until the very last scene of episode 50, Getting Together, First Time, First Kiss, Hand Jobs, Chief Cultivator LWJ, a flute used as a melee weapon, Fist Fights, Gossip, Self-Worth Issues, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Mentions of Canonical Abuse, Minor Misunderstandings, [podfic] make this chaos count, by devotedbones by inkpens)

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6. this may as well be an itmf for its general nature, but it's actually a ficfinder! except. i only remember a single detail LMAO, and it's that wwx and lwj consider all four juniors to be their children, blood relation be damned. I'm so sorry i have literally nothing else to go on 😅 i think there's a similar theme in 'tragedy is not the end' specifically with zizhen, but not the exact detail im looking for... thank you for the help!

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7. Hi, first of all I want to thank y'all for the hard work, and I wanted to know if a fic has been deleted or if anyone has it, I don't remember the name but it was a time travel fic where Qishan Wen win the sunshot campaign and asked for war prizes (?) Zewu-Jun goes instead of his brother, Yanli is alive, they all have them captive, Meng Yao betrayed them and ultimately sided with the Wen's who were winning the war, and I think no one remembers Wei Wuxian, something like that, it would be great if someone could help! Thanks so much 🩷🩷

FOUND? The Way It Wasn’t by KouriArashi (T, 72k, WangXian, XiYao, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, (eventually haha), Slow Build, Family Feels, Moral Ambiguity, Eventual Happy Ending)

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8. Hi!!! Its me again!! Thanknyiu so much again!!! This time im looking for a time travel fic with lan qiren as the timentraveller. Pretty sure him and wen ruohan travelled together and MAYBE involved with each other??? Im not so sure but i do know that lan qiren time travelled. Sorry its not much thats all i remember hehe @sirius-bus1ness

might be one of Nirejseki's works. They wrote several on that subject (including in a big anthology work, so finding it might take some time)

FOUND? Cursed Couple by shorimochi (M, 121k, LQR/WRH, CSSR/WCZ, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Out of Character)

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9. Hello, I am looking for a fic but I only remember a scene from it

It was a fic wwhere wwx died and there was a scene where a-yuan was crying while laying above wwx's grave in the burial mounds. Thank you!

FOUND? To Offer a Heart by WhiteCrane (M, 111k, wangxian, major character death, Sad WWX, Hurt WWX, YLLZ WWX, soft wangxian, Cinnamon Roll WN, WWX Whump, WQ is a good sister, WN is a good brother, everybody loves wwx, yunmeng siblings, Triggers, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Taking care of WWX, Give WWX a break, Canon Divergence, Disturbing Themes, Changing Perspectives, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Grief/Mourning, Temporary Character Death, Getting Together, Redemption, Sibling Bonding, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brother-Sister Relationships, Parent-Child Relationship, Sad and Sweet, Tragedy, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF JYL, BAMF WQ, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Everyone Needs A Hug, WIP)

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10. Hi Mods (＾◡＾) I really hope that you can help me find some fics I've been looking for! (＾◡＾) if you can't that's ok, if you can then many thanks in advance! y'all are awesome!

A) this one is set during CR studies, and wangxian go on a date? in Caiyi and I think WWX gets emotional about something they are talking about? and I know they hug, and WWX don't want to let go.

B) this one wangxian gets married, WWX marries into the Lan, and there are a lot of rules specifically for married people/how to be in a relationship, I'm pretty sure that is a very big part of the story

10A)

FOUND! 🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 712k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement) The scene described sounds like something that happens pretty early on

10B)

NOT FOUND! Into the Oubliette by Ruixx (M, 124k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, graphic depictions of violence, underage, Growing Up, Fix-It of Sorts, Arranged Marriage, Time Travel, Sibling Bonding, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Canon Divergence, Light BDSM, Breathplay, WWX protection squad, Sunshot Campaign, War, Politics, Hostage JYL, Visions, LXC Redemption, general LWJ, Internal Sect Politics, Good Uncle LQR, Lan OCs, No Golden Core Transfer, Empire Building, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence)

NOT FOUND! seldom all they seem by Fahye (E, 25k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, or rather Arranged Betrothal, followed by Weapons-Grade Thirst)

FOUND? Wouldn't fall for someone I thought couldn't misbehave by failedcharismacheck (M, 15k, WIP, WangXian, Marriage Proposal, Fluff, Protective LWJ, Domestic Fluff, Kissing, POV LWJ, Hair Brushing, Implied Sexual Content, soft horny)

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11. Noncon tw. Looking for a fic where when the wens burn lotus pier, they threaten to rape yanli but Wei Wuxian offers himself instead. So the wen soldiers rape Wei Wuxian in front of the Jiang sect,l. Yanli cries

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12. Looking for a specific fix where Wei Ying is dead and the sects come together to watch through his memories and end up finding out for selfless he was. @aviidaviibiitchboii

FOUND! Misunderstood by Silver_Flame_2724 (M, 250k, WIP, WangXian, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Heavy Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Worth Issues)

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13. Hi, I'm looking for a modern au where Wei Ying is a grad student in an orchestra and A-yuan is dropped off at his door by his cousin Mo Xuanyu. Wei Ying and Lan Zhan get together while caring for A-yuan and end up getting married. A-yuan has a fear of airports in this fic because of his abandonment issues. This was on AO3 but I can't seem to find it. @amindonbreak

FOUND! The Simplest Way Forward by harriet_vane (E, 70k, WangXian, Modern AU, Accidental baby acquisition, Kid fic, Green card marriage (but not really), Slow Burn, Endless Pining, Happy ending, [Podfic of] The Simplest Way Forward by knight_tracer, Translation into Русский: Самый Простой Путь Вперёд (The Simplest Way Forward) by grand_R, Spanish Translation, Turkish translation )

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14. hello! im looking for specific fic, where after burial mounds wwx thinks he's dead. instead of joining sunshot campain he storms nightless city and kills all cultivators without anyone knowing it was him (exept meng yao who survived but is wounded)

he then "haunts" yumeng for a while until he runs into wen quing and takes wens to burrial mounds

eventually ppl find out and together with meng yao they outsmart jgs to pardon all wens @chellsky

I can't find 14, but I do remember reading it; they ended up pretending Wen Qing was the one controling the dead and killing the Wen, and they faked her death

FOUND! can't find a way home by KouriArashi (M, 109k, WangXian, XiYao, XuanLi, ChengQing, Canon Divergence, Angst, Family, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Family Feels, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Developing Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical political bullshit, Mental Health Issues, Eventual Happy Ending, Descriptions of suicide, (caused by dark magic))

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15. Hello! I'm looking for a fic where Sizhui's bio parents are alive and come to Cloud Recesses looking for him (post-canon, iirc)

Hello! I'm #15 from the latest fic finder. I'm quite sure that the fic was on ao3. It may have been inspired from the angstymdzsthoughts posts but it was a proper fic posted on ao3

NOT FOUND! This Post by angstymdzsthoughts Mad idea, could 15 be from angstymdzsthoughts?

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16. Hi! I was reading a really interesting story about LWJ being cursed and WWX helping him and I lost it! Arg, now I'm so curious to know how it ends, I hope you can help me!

The story is about LWJ being cursed with a change in his private body parts. (The curse changes his p to a v). Then WWX notices this and decide to help LWJ and the way to revert the curse is that LWJ has to have an org@sm.

Can you help me? I'm dying to know how to continues!! 🤗🤗 @wangxiansgirl

FOUND! Coming Back to Yourself by acernor (E, 21k, wangxian, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex, Pining, Gender or Sex Swap, Vaginal Sex)

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17. Hi! Looking for a fic wherein wangxian married and suddenly Mo Xuanyu woke up again in his body, he fell in love with Lan Wangji but Lan Wangji just ignore or formal with him. Mo Xuanyu heartbroken tried to bring back Wei Wuxian Soul on his body

I feel like this might be in the angstymdzs collection, since I think it's was inspired by one of those asks?

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18. Kind of random, but I’m trying to find a fic I read awhile ago that featured hagfish? My memory of it is kind of vague, it was a college au and wwx was some sort of biology major i think and there were hagfish. Compelled to read it again because of hagfish reasons.

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19. Hello! I'm looking for a specific fic which I've seen in a few people's bookmarks but for some reason neglected to even mark for later. It's a modern AU where LWJ is looking for a pet sitter for his bunnies and is recommended WWX's pet sitting/walking venture (no dogs allowed ofc). Can you help? 🐇 @linderel

FOUND! A Single Note by airinshaw (E, 19k, WangXian, Modern AU, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Kissing, Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub)

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20. I search a fic where Jiang Cheng tries to ask Lan Xichen to marry him and Lan Xichen is super offended by it. Nie Huaisang may have done something to make JC fail even more in his proposal.

FOUND? To Take A Wife- Or Perhaps A Husband by Admiranda (T, 2k, one-sided LXC/JC, one-sided NHS/JC, JC's canonical homophobia, JC's canonical inability to get married, Decides to solve his problems with spite, not JC friendly, We all love NHS in this household, JC's canonical blind spots, Post-Canon, JC's canonical classism)

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[autisticrosewilson]

You have any Wilson family headcanons to spare? Especially on Rose & Grant?

DO I EVER!!! Gosh where do I even start

I mentioned to a friend of mine the other day that I think Slade was a leash kid, and I stand by that whole heartedly. He wanted to raise Grant as a leash kid too, simply because he thought you were supposed to, but Adeline threatened his life so it never happened. This was the first of many times he was confronted with the concept that maybe his home life wasn't great.

He would not even begin reflecting on this until almost a decade later. He still doesn't really consider himself a victim and honestly most of his shitty parenting comes from him just having no clue what he's doing. He's aware that he's bad at it, but instead of trying to improve he just tries to avoid his kids in hopes that they'll be better off without him.

Also he grew up in 1950's-60's Appalachia, I think he's more superstitious than he lets on. I imagine he grew up hearing about family curses and old wives tales, and while on some level he recognizes that Fran likely just used those stories to cope with the situation there's also a part of him that believes it for the same reasons she did. He's not a victim, he can't be, so it must not have been abuse. Which eventually turned into him just kind of accepting that he was always going to be a bad father, that there was never a chance for him to have a family and any attempt he makes will just end up worse than the last.

It makes it easier to maintain his self imposed isolation that way.

Adeline is a lot more interesting than people give her credit for. I like to think she was born and raised in a big city like New York or maybe Gotham if I wanted to be funny. She was definitely a wild child, and that was something that didn't change during her first marriage.

I truly do believe that Count whats-his-face (I don't care enough to look him up) tried exactly once to hit her and he ended up with three bullet wounds that all knicked arteries. It was his only warning and he was smart enough to know that.

Addie is loyal to the end, she's the kind of person that steadfastly refuses to let go of people she cares about. In basically ever version of her story she tries, she tries so hard to make things work. I once compared her to the Greek myth of Medea and I think about the comparison often.

I also think that Adeline was always her father's daughter, whether she liked it or not. I don't remember if it was canon that she was raised primarily by her dad but I only remember her dad being mentioned so I think she grew up in a single parent household and was mostly left to her own devices as a kid. She probably grew up really close with her cousin, most people probably thought they were sisters.

Mayflower fucking HATES Slade, she was advocating for the divorce before they were even married. I know in my heart she was Slade's biggest hater. Her and Slade talked mad shit about each other but they were also gossip buddies for the longest and it was the only thing that stopped her from beating his ass all the time.

SladeAddie is so toxic Bi4Bi coded. Really funny to me that Addie was probably older than Slade, do you know the kind of rizz you have to possess to bag a milf that could kill you in 20 different ways before you could blink? One who's already been divorced? What charm was this freshly 18 year old drop out exuding to be pulling like this?

When do you think he told her that he lied to the recruiter about his age and he wasn't actually 23 or whatever? Did he ever tell her? Did she figure it out herself? It was literally never addressed but I think about it all the time.

Slade is definitely still mildly in love with her and falls a little all over again every time she deals him grievous bodily harm. I don't know his thing for people who hate him is probably a self conscious way to punish himself for sucking all the time.

Billy and Alfred being friends is a headcanon that I literally never stop thinking about. Why wouldn't they be old friends or whatever? They have tea the 4th Tuesday of every other month. They complain about their respective morons and brag about the kids they have to take care of because their morons won't.

Billy is definitely a British rock fan and he fucking HATES country music. Slade starts playing it in the car and Billy threatens to crash the whole car just to make a point.

He's like maybe 5 years older than Slade if I'm being generous about it, he just looks older next to Slade because he's not hopped up on super serum.

He's the one Rose gives her father's day gifts to <3

SladeBilly is canon to me, no way Slade is capable of spending that much time with someone without sleeping with them at least once. It might be the healthiest relationship he's ever had with anyone and Billy barely tolerates him.

Lilian Worth my beloved,,,,,,they gave her such a white ass name. I choose to believe that she changed it later on for anonymity. Chea Nath is a name she hasn't used in a while, but it's still one she holds dear.

She seems like someone who was really into ballet, and probably someone who was really good at it too.

She's one of those characters that we don't really have any information on, which leaves a lot of wiggle room backstory wise. I probably write too much about characters with poor backgrounds (surprise your bitch grew up impoverished) so I guess I'll let Lili have this one.

Diplomats daughter, her and her mom were really close growing up, and she seems like she grew up with sisters. She's got that middle sister energy to her, growing up everyday was a fight and let's just say she didn't lose often.

If Adeline is Medea, Lili is definitely Circe. Versatile, powerful, a man hater, and she'll do anything to protect her girls.

Honors student, her grades never dropped below an A- and she has degrees in everything from fine art to communications. Rose went to college purely because her mom made it clear that not going was not an option.

Grant is one of my favorite characters. Ever. He's definitely an old school country enjoyer, much to Billy's chagrin and Slades secret delight.

He was the boy who climbed up the tallest trees to prove he could and then came home with a thousand little scrapes on him.

He has a bee allergy.

He's the least enhanced of his siblings but he still has a meta gene, I think the reason the H.I.V.E. serum didn't activate it like it should have is because his power was the mental kind and not the physical kind so his body couldn't hold up against it even while his psychic powers were getting stronger.

Painted his nails one(1) time, it was a dried up iridescent blue that Addie dug up and was going to throw away but Grant wanted to try it. He didn't know what nail polish remover was though so he scraped his teeth on his nails to get it all off but he couldn't get all of it and he almost cried so hard he threw up at dinner that night because he was scared of Slade noticing (Slade didn't notice and wouldn't have cared if he did).

Thought he was SO stealthy when he snuck out but literally everyone knew because he always came home smelling like weed, hungover, and he went to school in the same clothes he wore to go out. Most of the time Addie didn't care (See above: "former wild child") but Slade "Biggest loser in his hometown" Wilson always had an issue with it.

Officially his tomb is located in the Kane family plot but he's actually buried in Slades hometown next to his grandmother. (Adeline is not aware of this)

Joey was actually the one who pulled most of the pranks when they were kids, but Grant always took the fall. Mostly because literally no one would believe it even if Joey said he did it. Which he tried to do, many times.

Grant taught Joey to make flower crowns but he never admitted it because he thought it made him look weak. He still keeps the few that Joey made for him though, they're basically turning to dust in the drawer he hid them in to this day. They're one of the few things that weren't torn down and shoved in the attic after his death.

Joey still celebrates Grant's birthday every year, him and mom play The Last Man by Clint Mansell on the piano because it was his favorite piece to play before he stopped because it wasn't "cool".

Grant tried to get Joey to come with him when he ran away but Joey didn't want to leave Addie. Joey ended up moving into Grant's old apartment, he often thinks of what life would be like if he'd taken up the offer.

Grant is THE ass hole big brother from the late 90's/early 2000's. Down to the mullet and the shirt with the sleeves cut off. He used to steal Addie's eyeliner and she would get so mad because that stuff is EXPENSIVE and he's just smearing however. She teaches him how to do it properly but he says it makes him look "too girly".

Grant's picture is the only one in Slades wallet because he doesn't have to worry about putting him in danger anymore.

DON'T let Joey's "natural" pretty boy look fool you he has a 20 step skin routine and a 15 step hair routine and he wakes up at the ass crack of dawn to start on his makeup.

He used to get the worst acne as a pre-teen and he has physically burned all the evidence except for one picture of him and Slade on a fishing trip when he was like thirteen, he doesn't know it exists and it's the only picture Slade consistently travels with.

He doesn't want to be the favorite but he would get mad if someone else was the favorite because what work were YOU even putting in for it.

He has 12 year old boy humor I fear. Giggles at dick jokes and has used his name to make "Joe Mama" jokes on various occasions.

Number one Mama's boy of all time, there's not a single time they've gone out in public together where they haven't had coordinated outfits. Him and Addie call biweekly to shit talk people and exchange recipes and the like.

Joey is THE biggest gossiper. He'll talk shit about people right in front of them if he's sure they don't know ASL and whoever is around just has to try not to laugh while they "translate" him.

He's so good at convincing people to do things for him just by looking at them with his big ol' eyes. And he's a theater kid so his expressions are really exaggerated.

Rose, my muse. I know canonically she's a smoker but I'm changing that to her being a vaper. I don't know she just looks like she'd beat the shit out of you for a cherry lemon cancer stick.

Energy drinks don't work on her in normal amounts so to rectify that she constantly walks around with horrific concoctions in a water bottle the size of her head.

She street races as R4V4G3R and she's pretty good at it. She learned a lot about cars doing it which is how Slade justified being an anonymous benefactor for her.

The few weeks Slade had her she ran that shit like the navy. Up at 6 AM on the dot, tight ass ponytail swaying as she got ready for school. She was out that door by 7:25 everyday and she would MAKE Slade violate traffic laws to get to school by 7:35.

Has bitten people before and will do it again.

Had the BIGGEST crush on Donna Troy when she was on the Teen Titans. She didn't know it then but she did. Her taste in women really hasn't changed at all.

Only has her grunge thing going on when she's planning on meeting people, average day outfit is all pastels and florals that her mom used to pick out for her.

Got pretty much all of Lili's stuff, her main apartment is always Immaculately decorated. She also lives in L.A. because literally fuck New York. She's trying to get her engineering degree in PEACE.

She looks up to Grant a lot, she really only has Joey's account of things and he only tells her the good stuff. How he was brave, and strong, and funny. When she was younger she really wanted to be like him, but that was the last thing Slade wanted. So obviously she named herself Ravager out of spite.

Rose is the shortest one in the family but she's buff as hell, my girl is built like a fridge and she knows it. Joey tried to rest his arm on her head one and she stabbed him. It didn't go through his armor obviously but it did leave a mildly annoying bruise that he pouted about for a week.

She low-key really likes Addie but she tends to stay away because of the whole "child of infidelity" thing. She HAS threatened to call Addie on Slade multiple times.

Grew up with a bunch of other kids so she never really wanted siblings, but she would kill for Joey. She'd like a sister though. Really misses her cousins and aunts from the brothel but doesn't want to put them in danger by talking to them.

She's fond of kids but wouldn't want her own because she doesn't want to bring a kid into the kinda life she has, or their family in general.

Routinely takes jobs from Slade because she knows full well he won't do shit. And she's right every time he makes it into a team up that usually ends with them fighting but sometimes, every once in a while, they do something nice together and it makes her remember why she wanted to find him so bad when she was 13.

I don't like her carving her eye out for Slade I thought the whole concept of her idolizing Slade was fucking stupid. She tolerates him at best. So I like to attribute it to her visions, I think the blind prophet symbolism is really fun. Especially because then we can have a Prometheus type situation where her eye patch keeps switching sides/sometimes she's not blind because she keeps carving them out in fits of Seer Madness™️ but they keep regenerating.

SHE HAS BROWN EYES HER EYES ARE BROWN I KNOW HER PERSONALLY PLEASE LET HER KEEP EVEN ONE OF HER ETHNIC FEATURES I BEG!!!

[melminli]

𝗡𝗼 𝗦𝘂𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗲𝘀 - 𝟬𝟭

pairing: jujutsu kaisen x fem. reader

summery - nothing lasts forever, and all that remains are the memories and the question of what could have been. sometimes you closed your eyes and imagined a different future, one in which you graduated together and still bought stupid expensive coffee sometimes.

word count: 1.4k

contains: x reader, pre canon au, fluff, crack, genshin impact inspired themes

series masterlist | next chapter!

tokyo, june 26 2005

the day you were born was the day your fate was sealed. the life you had just begun had ceased to be yours before you even realized you were living it. it wasn't some god that imposed that fate on you or some other higher entity that may exist somewhere.

it was your parents who had done it. it was your whole family and their stupid traditions that determined your position in this world. you had no right to your own life from the very beginning. it was in the hands of greedy and foolish people. people who want to shape your soul and body according to their will.

"the birthmark you possess is a gift. wear it with pride." your mother would always tell you while putting your hair up so that the mark on the back of your neck could be seen. it was three lightning-like blades that together formed a circle and the reason why you were born with weight on your shoulder.

it was the sign that showed you where you belonged to.

you were not aware of all of this as a child. all you knew was that you had to fulfill expectations in order for others to love you. there was no such thing as unconditional love in your book. you had to do something to get something, so you always tried to do what was asked of you to the best of your ability. you didn't question your elders because they seemed to like it when you didn't, you were quiet and obedient because your father praised you for it, and you always dressed the way your mother would approve of.

you only did these things to get at least some kind of affection. you just didn't know any better, how could you? you were just a child.

you soon realized that the love these people would give you had no value.

"you should leave this place. it's dangerous here." a young boy's voice sounded next to you while you watched the sunset.

you turned your head to the one who interrupted your peace. you were in a really bad mood today. "shut up before i kill you." you threatened him with a slightly annoyed undertone.

you hoped he would disappear after that, but you only heard him trying to suppress his laughter, which honestly pissed you off even more. you looked at him with a dark look on your face until he took his hand from his mouth to speak. "you are welcome to try, but i doubt that someone like you would succeed at it."

you could feel his extraordinary cursed energy, but he couldn't feel yours. that was the most likely reason why he looked down on you like that, yet you couldn't help but perceive narcissistic tendencies from him. you had never seen him before, and you didn't know him, at least not on a personal level. though, you would argue that you could judge people pretty well.

you rolled your eyes. "whatever, i certainly don't need to hear shit from a ten-year-old." you stood up, and you weren't going to lie. you felt some kind of sick satisfaction when it turned out you were several inches taller than him.

from the looks of it, it bothered him a bit. even if he didn't let it show directly and continued to speak in a cheerful voice, you could still hear something different with the way he spoke out his next words. "i don't look ten, and you know it. now go before i stop being nice."

he was definitely full of himself, but you wouldn't have expected any different from someone like him. "sorry, mister nice guy." you answered him sarcastically. you didn't know yourself where all this attitude came from, to be honest. you weren't usually like this, well, at least with strangers. "if you are looking for the curse that was around here, i am afraid to tell you that someone else beat you to it. so you can stop trying to scare me away now."

he raised his eyebrows in confusion. he hadn't expected you to have anything to do with the jujutsu world since you looked like a complete normie. "huh? who exorcised it? it definitely wasn't you. there is not an ounce of cursed energy in your body, and we're talking about a grade 2 curse here." he said calmly while he degraded you by undermining your abilities just like that. he suddenly realized something when he heard his last sentence out loud. "wait a minute! how can it be that you don't possess cursed energy! even normies possess a certain amount, right?"

you waited a while for him to realize that. "you are from the gojo clan, aren't you? do they not teach you common sense or something? you should pay more attention to your surroundings." you said, not knowing why he reacted so surprised. probably for dramatic effect or something since it was pretty hard to miss with the white hair and his sunglasses, making his blue eyes visible from some angles. then add to that the way he presented himself, and it was easy to guess who exactly he was. the fact that i do not emit cursed energy should be the first thing he noticed.

"so you know me!" he happily expressed, and you probably tickled his ego a bit by knowing who he was without him having to say it. now that the conversation revolved around him, he was no longer interested in the topic of your cursed energy.

"with the way you act, it is not hard to guess." you said direct and walked away a little in the hope that he would leave you alone, but he followed you.

"huh?" he didn't know what you were talking about. "how am i acting?"

you stopped walking. you could come up with a few things to describe it. "it is hard to put into words." you said.

"so that's how good i am?"

at this point, you didn't know if he was just trying to get on your nerves or if he was being for real right now. you decided to lay down on the grass cause you didn't feel like continuing to stand around without a purpose. especially if he wasn't going to leave.

he introduced himself. "my name is gojo satoru."

you looked at him as if he had brain damage. "i know. we were just talking about that."

now it was gojo who thought you were being dumb. is this your first conversation? maybe you were an introvert who didn't interact much with other people. "i wanted you to introduce yourself. never heard of social cues before? i thought that i knew all jujutsu sorcerers around my age. there aren't that many to begin with, so i wanted to see if i would maybe recognize your name." he stopped himself when he saw the look on your face. "you are a jujutsu sorcerer, aren't you? what other reason is there for you to have exorcised the curse?"

he talks so much. how many questions had he asked you by now? you really didn't have the energy for an interview. besides, why doesn't he just ask me to introduce myself if that's what he wants? weirdo. "...do you have to know everything? i just came here to shut my mind off for a bit, and now i am being babbled at by you. everything you need to know has already been said, no?"

well, you weren't wrong. he was here for the curse, and you told him that it was already taken care of. "you're pretty mean, you know that?" he pouted a bit as he sat down next to you on the ground.

you just kept looking at the sky with your head on top of your arms. "are you into it or something? i was hoping it would make you leave, but you are still here."

gojo thought about it for a while. i never thought about my type. am i into mean girls? nah, that can't be. who would be into that? sounds like something perverts would like. "of course not! i just happened to want to watch the sunset for a bit..."

you couldn't bring yourself to believe that. he seemed like a weird guy. "sure."

to be continued...

next chapter!