#safe workspace | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

miyadollie · 27 days ago

Text

R/CRUSHES : HOW DO I TALK TO MY OFFICE CRUSH ? sillyguy0813 says : dude just borrow a stapler

★ STARRING office worker lee jeno x fem reader ( ft. best friend jaemin ) ★ WORD COUNT 2.6k + 3OO bonus ★ CONTAINS co-workers to dating, fluff !! lee jeno being a cutie, jaemin is a menace to society, workplace romance, ★ MIYA SAYS 💗 this is my first time TRYING to write a long fic :3 pls give me any constructive criticism and feedback thank uu 🧘🏼‍♀️ . update : wow i absolutely dislike my writing here but its been rotting in drafts too long and i gave up on fixing this TT

it starts with a stapler.

one you’re not even sure belongs to you. maybe you bought it once during a sale, or someone left it at your desk during a particularly chaotic week, and it stayed. quietly claimed as yours.

the moment wasn't love at first sight, no grand declaration of love with bouquets or fireworks. just a quiet tuesday morning, your inbox overflowing, the boss increasing your headache by preponing your deadlines, the coffee machine on its last breath and the fluorescent lights above flickering slightly like they, too, were tired of this job. and then there’s him.

lee jeno. clean-cut. soft-spoken. the kind of guy who always says “excuse me” when passing behind you, even when there’s plenty of space. always dressed a little too well for your casual office. not flashy—never that—but tidy, crisp. thoughtful. one cubicle down, diagonal from yours. he’s been here a while. a familiar face in the sea of semi-familiar ones. you’ve never really talked but only ever exchanged the kind of polite nods reserved for coworkers who share nothing but recycled air and a breakroom.

until today. “could you pass the stapler?” you look up, startled slightly by the voice.

he’s leaning just slightly over the low partition separating your desks, eyes trained on the corner of your workspace where your lonely black stapler sits. he gives you a smile. not flashy. not flirtatious. just—nice. warm. gentle. you blink once. then reach for it. “thanks,” he says. you nod. he returns to his screen. that’s it. except… it isn’t. because the next day, he borrows a pen. the day after that, post-its. then tape. then scissors. always returning everything. always smiling. always saying thank you like he means it. and now you’re wondering. is this flirting? some kind of extremely office-safe, hr-friendly version of it? or are you just painfully, embarrassingly overthinking it? or maybe did you have an unspoken crush on him? not that you can be blamed. - lee jeno is attractive. undeniably so. you’ve seen him once—just once—rolling up the sleeves of his white button-down in the middle of summer, and you swear you forgot how to form a coherent sentence for ten straight minutes. defined forearms. slim but strong hands. that razor-sharp jawline, often tilted thoughtfully while reading something on his screen. dark lashes. deep voice. a gym guy, apparently—you overheard it once when he mentioned it to jaemin (you weren’t eavesdropping, you just… have really good ears). you haven’t initiated anything. neither has he. but those tiny moments? the ones that make your heart skip? they’re adding up

────

FRIDAY | 4:30 PM

“soo… still down to try that new restaurant?” jaemin asks one afternoon, casually leaning on your desk during lunch with a fresh iced americano in hand—probably his fifth for the day. “obviously,” you reply, eyes lighting up. “people have been absolutely glazing it online. thanks for getting us a table!” he grins. “see you at 9 then.” just as he turns, he spins back around like a cartoon character. “oh, also—jeno’s coming. hope that’s cool?” you freeze. your face says i’m fine, but your body language screams mayday. “y-yeah. sure. totally chill,” you manage. “coolcoolcoolcool,” you say, immediately turning your head towards your computer, and then you see your reflection on the blank empty screen. you were blushing. hard. jaemin smirks knowingly as he walks off. of course he knows. he always knows. after all, he’s the mastermind who told jeno to borrow your stapler in the first place. ────

8:55 PM

the restaurant is low-lit and warm, the kind of place where the wood-paneled walls muffle outside noise, and everything feels just a little more intimate than it should. you arrive five minutes early. out of habit, mostly. or nerves. you’re not sure which. jaemin’s already there, somehow sipping an iced americano even here, scrolling through his phone while pretending not to notice your presence with a dramatic sigh. “i told you 9:00,” he says, without looking up. “it’s 8:55.” “still early.” he glances at you now, then raises an eyebrow. “cute top.” you ignore his antics, he’s just trying to get a reaction out of you. typical jaemin. your heart is already thudding too loudly, because jeno walks in right after. black shirt, sleeves rolled up. clean slacks. a bit of cologne, subtle but warm. his hair’s tousled slightly, and his eyes light up just a little when they land on you. “hey,” he says, with that soft smile. you don’t trust yourself to speak, so you just smile back, scooting over so he can sit across from you. the conversation is light, easy. mostly thanks to jaemin, who fills every awkward silence with a joke, a story, an embarrassing anecdote about your office. jaemin and jeno were friends in school, you get to know that night, they were benchmates. jaemin always chose jeno as his partner for every game, every lab, and jeno just liked his company, so he stood with him always. jaemin talks about you to jeno too—how you both were first day interns and hit it off over a conversation about which seventeen album is truly the best. but every now and then, you catch jeno looking at you. not staring. not even for long. just—looking. like he’s seeing something he's trying very hard not to see too obviously. “so,” jaemin says mid-way through dessert, smirking at you over his spoon, “funny how you two never end up talking at work.” you nearly choke. jeno shifts in his seat. “like, what’s with all the stapler borrowing, huh? no small talk?” you glare at him. he grins. “i’m just saying. feels like there’s some unspoken office tension.” jeno lets out a quiet laugh. and then, after a beat—he looks at you. “i guess i just… wanted a reason to talk,” he says, voice soft. and your breath catches. your heart is thudding again. you manage a smile, small and shy. trying not to mess up words or blabber out something nonsensical. “i noticed,” you reply. the space between you feels full, suddenly. full of every little interaction. every thank-you. every passing smile. jaemin stretches obnoxiously. “well, look at the time! i’ve got a meeting with my bed in ten.” you roll your eyes. “you’re so obvious.” he shrugs. “you’re welcome.” and just like that, he’s gone with the wind. leaving you and jeno, two half-finished desserts, and a quiet restaurant glowing gold in the late-night hush. “i can walk you home,” he says, gently. not pushing. just offering. and something in you says yes. to the walk. to this night. to the maybe that’s been building between you both. ────

10:45 PM

the night is cool, with a breeze just strong enough to lift the corners of your coat and make you tuck your hands into your sleeves. the restaurant’s warm glow fades behind you, replaced by the hush of quiet streets and dimly lit sidewalks. jeno walks beside you, hands in his pockets, his steps matching yours. neither of you says anything at first. the silence isn’t awkward. it’s... full. full of unspoken things. of nerves and glances and the way your arms brush every few seconds and both of you pretend not to notice. “jaemin talks too much,” jeno says eventually, voice low. you laugh softly. “it’s his specialty.” he hums in agreement, then adds, “he wasn’t wrong, though.” you glance at him, catching the way his eyes flicker to yours and then away again, like he’s testing the water, like he’s afraid of saying too much too fast. “i... didn’t really need the stapler that day.” your breath catches. “oh,” you manage, and you’re smiling now. you can’t help it. “i just... i guess i liked the idea of you looking at me. talking to me.” he pauses. “even if it was just a stapler.” you stop walking, just for a moment. jeno turns, realizing you’re no longer beside him. there’s a streetlight above him, casting shadows across his face and soft highlights in his hair. “you could’ve just said hi,” you whisper. he steps closer. barely. but enough to make the air between you buzz. “i know,” he murmurs. “i wanted to. every day. but you always looked so focused. and i didn’t want to ruin that.” your heart is a mess of drumbeats and warmth. “you wouldn’t have.” silence again. then he says, barely audible, “could i maybe get your number... just for office related stuff, of course.” you nod, because your voice has already betrayed you too many times tonight. a soft smile tugs at his lips. the quiet kind. the kind you know he saves for only a few people. he walks you all the way to your apartment. and when he says goodbye, it’s not a hug. not a kiss. just a quiet “goodnight” and a look that lingers longer than it should. but your heart knows. it knows everything. ────

SATURDAY | 9:00 AM

the next day, the office is just waking up. it always feels colder in the morning—half because of the ac blasting too early, half because everyone’s too busy chasing caffeine to talk. desks are still half-empty. monitors glow. the printer sputters. someone sneezes. a mug clinks. you step in, trying to hide the stupid smile that’s been stuck to your face since last night. your coat is too warm for indoors but your hands are cold, so you hold your coffee tighter. and then you see it. your desk. something’s different. sitting neatly on top of your keyboard is a brand-new stapler. blue, shiny, absolutely unnecessary. you freeze. right beside it, a yellow post-it. his handwriting. neat. almost too neat. “thought you could use one that wasn’t cursed. —jeno :)” you almost laugh. it’s such a him thing to do—dry humor disguised as helpfulness. but your heart? it’s fluttering like it’s stuck in a romcom scene, an angelic choir singing along in tandem. you reach out and pick up the stapler.you didn’t even need one nor were you going to use one. but you want to keep this one forever. cherish it. maybe even pass it on as an heirloom.

just then, you hear someone clear their throat. “new office romance i should know about?” you don’t even need to turn around. jaemin. of course. loud, nosy, iced-americano jaemin. “shut up,” you say instantly, trying to sound bored. your cheeks are already heating up. but he walks past you, grinning like the devil, a bounce in his step like he’s in on the joke you’re still figuring out. and then—your gaze drifts. to the cubicle across. there he is. jeno. typing. or pretending to. his posture is the same—back straight, eyes on the screen—but his fingers are still on the home row keys, just gliding about. and when he feels your eyes, he glances up. It's brief, barely a second. but he smiles. like last night wasn’t just dinner. like it meant something.

a few hours later, a message pops up.

jeno lee “did the new one pass inspection?”

you “it’s still under review by the council. but i think they approve ;)”

jeno lee “let me know if it jams. i’ll personally fix it.”

you smile. a full smile this time. the kind that makes you reach for your coffee, lean back in your chair, and breathe in like something in your world has shifted.

jeno 💗 “what’s your go-to coffee order?”

you “anything except that poison jaemin drinks every day. ‘i like my coffee as dark as my soul’ ahh guy.”

jeno 💗 “haha.” “noted.”

the next morning there’s a cup of coffee on your desk, with yet another post-it note. “it’s the new specialty at a cafe near my place. i thought you’d like it :)”

that was truly the best coffee you had ever tasted. and maybe he started getting it for you every day. ────

WEDNESDAY | 9:00 PM

it's another day at the office. rain taps gently on the windows, a soft drumbeat to the silence of overworked employees and abandoned coffee mugs. you’re still at your desk & so is he. the fluorescent lights overhead are dimmer than usual, humming low like they’re tired too. you stretch your back, glancing at the clock. 9:04 pm. “still here?” comes his voice. you look up to see jeno leaning on the edge of his cubicle wall, sleeves rolled up, tie a little loosened. “so are you,” you shoot back. he smiles. “want company for the walk back?” you nod before your brain catches up.

the streetlights blur against the wet pavement, reflecting like oil paint smudged across the road. jeno’s shoulder brushes yours every few seconds—neither of you move away. he talks about the weird way jaemin eats ramen. you laugh. you tell him about your favorite childhood cartoon. he says he watched it too, and suddenly it’s three blocks later and you’re still talking. at a red light, you both stop. he glances down at you. you glance up. it’s a pause so charged you swear the rain quiets. “...you looked really pretty today,” he says suddenly. his voice isn’t confident or smooth—he says it like a secret. you don’t respond right away. just tuck your hair behind your ear, your face heating. he notices. the light turns green and you simply walk on. on reaching your apartment building you stop at the steps. he’s still holding the umbrella. you don’t say anything. he doesn’t either. there’s that moment again—that pause like the world might tilt if either of you moves. “i’m really glad you came to dinner that night,” he finally says, voice quieter than before. “been wanting to talk to you properly for months.” you blink. “...really?” jeno chuckles. “you had the office’s only decent stapler. of course i had to make a move.” you laugh—nervous and shy and full of everything you’ve been holding back. he takes a step closer. just one. not too much. “but also,” he adds, and this time his voice is a little more sure, “i like you. not just the lunch break, passing-notes kind. the kind where i want to sit and mindlessly watch silly romcoms with you, the kind where i want to walk you home every day and make sure you had dinner. the kind where - " he goes on. but words fall on deaf ears. you feel your heart clench, sweet and sharp. you’re about to respond when— “...so, if you’re okay with it,” he continues, scratching the back of his neck, “can i officially take you out sometime? like, not just coffee machine and post-it flirting. a real date.” you blink. once. twice. your face is warm. your chest feels like it’s glowing. “...yes.” you don’t even hesitate. his smile is soft. wide. genuine. and when he hands you the umbrella and waves goodnight, walking back with his hands in his pockets and a quiet bounce in his step. you think, maybe this started with a stapler. but it’s gonna end with something a lot more permanent. ──── BONUS : FEW WEEKS LATER | 2:00 PM

you, jeno, and jaemin were perched on the edge of the rooftop, paper lunchboxes balanced on your laps, chinese takeout - courtesy of jeno. the breeze is nice, the sky a little overcast, and jaemin's halfway through an enthusiastic rant about the company’s new vending machine layout.

“and like .. why did they move the green tea to the bottom row? what kind of criminal.. oh, thanks man.” he says as jeno hands him a napkin mid-rant, like muscle memory.

you say while giggling, “you guys are like an old married couple.”

jeno chokes on his rice. you pat his back helpfullly , still giggling.

jaemin just shrugs. “what can i say? i raised him well.”

jeno glares at him. mouthing ' stop. talking.' he knew jaemin could slip up any moment. for he always did.

jaemin does not stop talking.

“i mean, not to brag, but if it weren’t for me, he’d still be hovering awkwardly near your desk pretending he needed your stapler.”

you blink. “wait. what?”

jeno drops his chopsticks.

jaemin freezes. realizes.

“oh..." he mutters.

your jaw drops. “waitwaitwait. you told him to borrow my stapler?”

“in my defense,” jaemin says, holding up both hands, “i was just trying to save him from dying of heart failure every time you walked past. it was either that or fake a paper jam crisis.”

jeno is silent. fully hiding behind his lunchbox now.

you slowly turn to him. “is this true?”

“…maybe,” he mumbles.

you snort, trying to hold in your laughter. “oh my god. so all this time..”

“don’t act like it wasn’t genius!” jaemin interrupts. “you’re welcome, by the way. this whole slow-burn coffee shop romcom office love story? all me.”

jeno groans. “can i push him off the roof.”

you lean into jeno’s shoulder, grinning. “you should’ve just said hi.”

he sighs. “i wanted to. but every time i tried, you were always typing so fast. and glaring at your screen like it personally insulted your ancestors.”

you snort. “fair.”

jaemin raises his water bottle. “to true love, born from borrowing office supplies.”

jeno snatches it from him and takes a sip without asking. you think that’s revenge enough. read more ❤︎ please like, reblog and let me know your reviews (๑>◡<๑) this work is a piece of fiction and is not intended to reflect the real personalities, actions, or beliefs of the individuals portrayed. the idols mentioned are used purely as fictional characters for storytelling purposes. no harm, disrespect, or objectification is intended. everything written here is entirely imaginative and not based on real-life events or relationships.

#miya.writes #jeno x reader #nct x reader #nct jeno #jeno fluff #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct dream #nct dream x reader #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagines #nct dream fanfic #jeno fanfic #lee jeno x reader #jeno lee #jaemin x reader #jaemin fluff

724 notes · View notes

miiyas · 9 days ago

Text

each and every scar on satoru gojo’s body is a mark and sign telling the world that he was always only ever used as a weapon of mass destruction, a fate already decided for him the moment he was known to be born with the blessings of limitless and the six eyes. the battle between sukuna only proved that point further, and as gojo was the final one standing, the sting and burn of fresh, deep cuts made the thought numb his head a little.

but gojo is relived that he survived. afterall, he has a wife and son waiting for his safe return.

meeting you after the battle broke his heart, chords pulling and tightening as he watched you rush over with tearful eyes and reddened cheeks, a stain left from crying endlessly. he’s bloodied and numb, but the desperate hug you give him is like a revival of life itself. like he was born anew.

but with quick use of his reverse curse technique, along with the support of shoko by his side, most of the scars healed. some were still left fresh and pink, irritating him as it still stung as alcohol on a paper cut, but most hide in his skin, white streaks tainting it in a way that looked almost, as you claim, charming.

charming. gojo never found it charming. he found it as a mark of burdened pastimes and battles that never came in his favor. it’s rare for gojo to be defeated, he is the strongest after all, but the little bumps that are left after formed after scars heal make him irk. it’s all over his body and his face, every inch and surface covered in the reminders of when he was almost killed. of a time where he almost didn’t come back home to you.

despite this, his little six year old, a splitting image of him, had thought otherwise and found his fathers battle scars the best thing in the world. it’s a canvas awaiting to be used.

bright markers are picked up on almost a daily and doodles are drawn with the scars being a base of creativity. it happens suddenly and without warning whenever satoru’s resting or working. a tug in the hem of his shirt makes him look down and see a grinning boy wave around a few markers and he can’t help but reveal his arms or back, allowing it to be used as a new art form.

“papa, it’s drawing time !!” a handful of obnoxiously reds, oranges, green, and blues are clutched in the hands of the grubby child, a few uncapped and ready to take action in graffiti work. and what kind of father would satoru be if he refused such a cute smile ?

gojo bends his back from his seat and with a swift use of his arms, he has his son sitting on his lap, already getting to work. the boys giggles fill the tense workspace atmosphere, the cool feeling of the marker tip softening the rough grooves of his skin.

“what’cha drawing, buddy ?”

“mama.” he responds, tongue sticking out in concentration. a grin grows on the man’s lips, tilting his head to see his arm, eyeing the messy stick figure of you. the boy lifts his head to meet his eyes with his fathers, a toothy grin forming, one that reflects satoru’s. “does it look like mama ?”

“just like her.” the adult responds back without any hesitation lagging him. “but the real deal is a lot prettier, don’t you think ?” his finger taps on his skin, inches away from the still wet ink. he watches his son nod eagerly, the grip on his marker tightening and he ruffles his hair messy, allowing him to get back to drawing, the moment tender.

satoru gojo has long been used as a weapon, each scar tells his story. but now, as the wet inks of the markers streak the rough patches of his skin, your husband finds solace and fresh air. his scars aren’t his favorite, but if they’re viewed as glorious by his son, then the rough patches of he heart will melt into the crevices, making it full and whole.

#jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo x you #atlas writes !

324 notes · View notes

enderlovez · 5 months ago

Text

Advent Calendar

Spencer Reid x Kindergarten Teacher Reader WORD COUNT: 628

Summary: You've always been the kind of teacher who goes out of her way to make sure her students have a good time, so it's no surprise to Spencer when he finds you awake in the middle of the night making little advent calendars for your kindergarteners.

Content Warning: literally none, this is so cute

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Your hands are smothered in glitter and paint and globs of colorful glue, some even beginning to dry on your clothes and into your hair as you keep absentmindedly pushing loose strands out of your face.

Spencer thinks you look absolutely adorable, as you struggle to assemble a tiny paper reindeer, tongue poking out in concentration, but he knows you wouldn't appreciate having glue stuck in your hair.

You're not yet aware of Spencer's presence in your apartment, since he came in using the spare key you gave him a few weeks ago.

The faintest creak of the floorboards across the room pulls your attention away from the paper reindeer, fingers freezing mid-glue as you look up and settle your gaze on Spencer.

"Don't mind me," he says, his voice laced with quiet amusement. "I'm just observing a master at work."

You jump to your feet, cheeks already heating. "What are you doing here?" you question frantically, wiping your glittery hands on your shirt—something to worry about later.

He holds up the spare key, his lips twitching into a small smile. "You mentioned you were doing something for your class. Thought I'd stop by to check on you."

"Check on me, or make fun of me?" you retort, brushing a stray bit of glitter off your face—though it only works to smear the sparkles further, eliciting a frustrated groan from the back of your throat.

"Both, maybe," he teases, stepping closer and tucking the key safely into his pocket. His gaze quickly sweeps over your workspace—the piles of tiny candies, neatly folded ribbons, and mismatches piles of construction paper. "You really go all out for your kids, don't you?"

It's not even really a question, because Spencer already knows you do. This isn't the first time he's visited you in the midst of creating something special for your students.

You shrug, the defensiveness melting from your voice. "They deserve it," you murmur as you drop back down onto the couch. "It's just... nice to give them something to look forward to. Some of them don't have the same privileges as others."

Spencer nods, his expression softening as he kneels to your level, inspecting the chaos. "You've got paint in your hair, by the way. And glitter," he points out, lightly tugging at a stray, glitter-dusted lock.

"Great," you mutter, grabbing for a damp cloth you set aside in advance, but Spencer stops you with a chuckle.

"Leave it. It suits you."

The warmth in his tone tends a flutter through your chest. He reaches past you to pick up one of the fifteen half-finished advent calendars, his long fingers careful not to smudge your work—and a lot of work it is. "You know, statistically, kindergarten teachers are some of the most dedicated professionals in their field."

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "And statistically, how often do FBI agents barge into their girlfriends' apartments in the middle of the night to watch them drown in glitter?"

Spencer grins, setting the drying calendar back down. "I think you're a unique case."

You narrow your eyes at him in mock offense, but the smile forcing its way onto your face gives you away.

"Well, don't just stand there and watch, Doctor Reid. Grab some scissors and glitter," you say, resuming where you left off on the little paper reindeer. "If you're going to interrupt, you might as well help."

His eyebrows lift in false surprise, but he doesn't argue. Instead, he plops down beside you on the sofa, his own hands soon joining yours in the mess of paper and glue and glitter.

He's much more efficient than you in terms of how quickly he can put together a tiny paper reindeer, is all you have to say about the experience.

#spencer reid x girlfriend reader #spencer reid x bau reader #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x kindergarten teacher #kindergarten teacher #enderlovez

546 notes · View notes

breelandwalker · 3 months ago

Text

Magical Oil Recipes - Protection and Warding Edition

For anyone looking to brew up some magical protections or enhance their current warding measures, here are some recipes I’ve created that you might find useful.

To prepare them, blend the ingredients in such proportions as feels correct for your purposes (or as supplies allow). Use dried material except where indicated. Place a few spoonfuls in a mason jar with a screwtop lid and fill the jar with a bland oil of your choice. (Vegetable oil of the sort you would buy for cooking works fine.) Screw the lid on tightly and shake well to combine, then leave the jar in a dark dry place for 2-4 weeks to steep.

Once steeped, prepare a clean storage bottle (also with a secure lid) and label with the type of oil and the bottling date. Strain the oil through paper towels or cheesecloth to remove the plant material, then bottle immediately. Store away from sunlight and heat for up to one year. Use for spellwork as you see fit.

(Please note that NONE of these potions are meant to be taken internally by any means. Observe all proper safety measures related to glass, fire, and potentially harmful plants as necessary during preparation.)

*- Ingredient is potentially harmful if inhaled or ingested. **- Ingredient should not be used or handled if you are pregnant or nursing.

All-Purpose Blessing Oil For blessing, purification, and consecration.

Lavender

Sweet Basil

Bay Leaf

Patchouli Note: Use Olive Oil for the base.

All-Purpose Hexbreaking Oil For general negation of baneful spells cast by oneself or others.

Agrimony**

Cinquefoil

Fennel

Vervain

Solomon's Seal Root in master bottle

And Stay Out Ward Refresher Oil For strengthening household protections between castings.

Sarsaparilla

Oakmoss

Horehound

Sweet Basil

Banned From The Premises Banishing Oil For anointing doorways and banishing unwanted persons.

Oregano

Rosemary

Lemon Peel

Thyme

Blue Moon Curse Reversal Oil For turning and countering baneful magic.

Angelica Root

Lemon Verbena

Motherwort**

Elderberries*

Change the Locks Protection Oil For protection of the home from banished persons.

Cumin

Oregano

Rosemary

Thistle

Cradlekeeper Child Protection Oil For protection of infants and young children.

Daisies (any color)

Flax Seeds

Caraway Seeds

Lamb's Ear Leaf Note: Use to anoint the lintel of the door to the child's room.

No Soliciting Front Door Oil To keep unwanted visitors away from your home.

Ivy Leaves

Sweet Basil

Blueberry Leaf

Juniper Berries Note: Apply to your front door or threshold.

Safe Space Protection Oil To help one find sanctuary when it is most needed.

Blackberry Leaf (or Tea)

Allspice Berries

Fennel Tops

Clover Leaves and Blossoms

The Shielding Light Protection Oil For passive protective magics.

Caraway Seeds

Eucalyptus Leaf**

Lavender

Vervain Note: Passive protection magic functions as a shield, rebuffing or neutralizing harm. It is good for long-term spells that don't require much energy or maintenance.

The Shining Dark Protection Oil For active protective magics.

Coconut Husk

Thistle Leaf

Witch Hazel**

Angelica Root Note: Active protection magic functions as a sword, strongly deflecting or fending off harm. This is best for short-term or immediate-use spells that are not meant to last, but must kick in very strongly and very quickly. Excellent for emergency personal protections.

The Sorcerer's Tower Protection Oil To protect your witchy supplies and workspace from interlopers.

Juniper Sprigs or Berries

Blueberry Leaf

Thistle

Astragalus Root Note: Works best alongside mundane secrecy and privacy measures. To avoid damage, anoint containers, furniture, and doors rather than items. Do not use directly on books as it may damage delicate paper or covers. Use with caution on unfinished wood.

Thorn in the Door Warding Oil To discourage unfriendly witches from entering your home.

Rosemary

Bay Leaf

Sage (any color)

Solomon's Seal Root

Rose Stem (with thorns) in master bottle

Walking Ward Protection Oil For personal warding spells of all kinds.

Sweet Basil

Witch Hazel**

Fennel Sprigs Note: This works for both active and passive protection magics and may be used in conjunction other protective oils.

Wanderlust Traveling Oil For all-purpose protection and luck while traveling.

Feverfew

Cinquefoil

Witch Hazel**

Spearmint

Should the reader require supplies, I recommend the following:

Penn Herb Company

Starwest Botanicals

Bulk Apothecary

Mountain Rose Herbs

Specialty Bottle

Photo Credit - Shaiith

If you’re enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar, tune in to my podcast Hex Positive, or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop.

#witchcraft #witchblr #witch tips #potion recipes #potions and powders #witch community #protection magic #Pestlework

405 notes · View notes

mynonjo · 1 year ago

Text

Heavenly Body

Minthara in armor. Period.

Thanks @bloodpraxis for bullying me into drawing a proper armor and XPPen for giving me a chance to try their XPPen Deco Pro Gen2 ♡✧( ु•⌄• ) You can can use 'mynonjo5' to get an extra 5% off on the products in XPPen official store.

Below is my personal review of my new tablet (and a pic of my humble workspace)✌(‘ω’✌)

XPPen Deco Pro Gen2

A sponsoring moment first ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

You can use 'mynonjo5' to get an extra 5% off on the products in XPPen official store. US store CA store

The size: I went for the XLW — the largest size and let me tell you, it's sure is one big boy. It's like working on an A3 sized paper and the tablet takes up a big chunk of your workplace. But hey, that extra space means you can really let loose with your arm swings for some dynamic lines. If that's too much to handle, don't sweat it, opt for the smaller sizes like the MW (A5) and LW (A4).

X-Remote Control: The X-Remote Control might be my favourite feature. With programmable buttons, it's a lifesaver for us shortcut maniacs. No need to reach for the keyboard any longer. The remote also works even without turning on the tablet, which is quite handy.

The Pen Case: This thing is metal, sleek, and just plain cool. Keeps your pen safe when traveling about.

The Pen: Eight extra nibs in two different types? I don't think I'd have to worry about replacements anytime soon. And with the eraser end, one less keyboard shortcut is needed.

Bluetooth: Okay, so I'm usually all about cables for a stable connection. But with my table looking like a cable jungle, Bluetooth has been a lifesaver.

Overall, loving my Deco Pro Gen2 experience so far!

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 #bg3 fanart #minthara #minthara baenre #bg3 minthara #paladin #dnd #drow #my art

1K notes · View notes

mejaemin · 2 days ago

Text

too much ♡ with yoon jeonghan

wc: 4k (my longest fic i’ve ever written !!!) summary: if there’s anything you and jeonghan have learned from all your years together, it’s that you love each other. so much. throughout your whole lives, it’s the one thing that stayed a constant through it all warnings: fluff, childhood friends to lovers, alcohol, a lot of bittersweet ness, so so so much romance !!! you might cry.. also a little bit of death maybe? :3 an: happy burstday to my whole world 🤍 words cannot explain how special these 13 men are to me, and not even this can equate to how much love and appreciation i have for them. this is only a fraction of my appreciation, but i hope you can feel it nonetheless. listen 🎧 too much by mark lee, 우연 by jeonghan 1 to 13 masterlist!

the meeting ୨୧

with sticky fingers, glue extremely uncomfortable against your skin, you keep your hand raised for miss teacher to come help. she’s too busy helping the boy with macaroni noodles in his nose. you don’t care to learn his name. his personality is too big for you.. he’s always yelling, and the first time you heard his tiger roar it made you cry.

she’s still busy. he’s got them completely stuck up there, you think. she has to take him to the nurse. miss teacher’s teacher friend comes to watch the class while she leaves with macaroni boy. you keep your hand raised, and it’s starting to hurt from how long you kept it up. miss teacher’s friend isn’t paying attention either, though.. apparently one of the other boys knows her from somewhere else, and he keeps taking her attention from you because of his singing.

you accept defeat, putting your hand down with a sigh. you look around your table, one you’re all by yourself at, and there’s not a wipe in sight. you try a tissue, but it sticks to your skin and leaves an icky feeling. you can’t use the sink, because miss teacher said to ask permission, and asking permission is too scary!

everyone’s tinkering away on their artwork, loud sounds of crayon buckets, singing, and yelling all filling up your senses. no one sees you, and no one’s helping. it’s all too much, and your eyes screw shut. you don’t want to cry, because someone will see and make everyone look at you ‘cause they noticed. you get down under your table, hiding your head in your arms (keeping your hands a safe distance from your body) as you not only hide from the world, but also hide your tears.

jeonghan sees your entire situation from his table. he thought it’d be funny at first, watching you struggle and potentially make a really big mess, but you look sad. why are you sad at making a mess? it’s so fun! you look so icky and not happy with all the glue and fuzzies on your hand, and he notices your chest moving fast. he looks at his companion to see if he noticed, but said friend is too busy coloring in his shinchan to notice.

“cheollie, look.” he pokes the boy in his shoulder, and he looks about ready to cuss like his dad does when he hits his toe. “that girl is crying.” jeonghan points to you, body shuddering from under your workspace.

“it’s rude to point.” seungcheol smacks his friend’s hand down. “and i saw. the right thing to do is to tell miss teacher.”

“miss teacher isn’t here. she left with youngie, ‘member?”

“oh. so we get the other teacher? because she’s in charge now ‘till miss teacher comes back.” seungcheol always talks like he’s the boss, but that’s just because he got the teacher’s helper job this month. and the ones before that.

“no!” jeonghan grabs seungcheol’s sleeve, letting him go when he stops moving and puts his hands on his hips. “i’m miss teacher now! i can fix it!”

he looks around for the wet wipes to give to you. they’re on the big shelf, so he waits until the new lady turns away to run over and take them. with his evil laugh, he tiptoes away and puts them on your table.

slipping down to sit beside you, he taps your shoulder. “did you make a mess?” you nod, head still down. he grabs the wet wipes, ripping some out of the container. a little water splashes out, but he makes sure it doesn’t hit you. “it’s okay. everyone makes messes sometimes. don’t be sad.”

you pick your head up, sniffling aggressively, before putting your hands out. instead of giving you the wipes, he does it for you with a little ‘hannie can fix it!’, gently scrubbing away at the mess on your hands. you’re still sniffing away the whole time, using your now (mostly) clean hand to wipe at your eyes.

once he’s finished, he closes the container and hands you the box of tissues. “you have some boogers.” he giggles at your embarrassed face, slowing down when you don’t react or say anything.

he asks your name, and you give it to him, a little wobbly, and he takes your hand to shake it. “i’m jeonghan. i’ll be your friend now, okay?” he brushes his hair from his eyes, “we’ll be friends forever! and i’ll always be here to help you when you need it.”

childhood ୨୧

you and jeonghan are a little older now. not old enough, you both say, but old enough to start having homework and wish you were as cool as your upperclassmen. ever since you met in kindergarten, jeonghan’s kept his word, staying by your side no matter what. his “stinky” little sister started going to school too, and she’s just as fun to be around. he gets jealous though, and always pulls you away from her to focus on him instead.

right now though, he doesn’t have to worry much. little sis is in her little kid classes right now while you guys get to have recess! you and him are sitting on the bench next to all your friends, some of which are playing basketball, while the others draw with sidewalk chalk or hang upside down on the monkey bars.

jeonghan would very much prefer playing basketball, but you don’t like the idea of getting too close to other people or the idea of contact sports. he doesn’t really understand why, but the thought of you sitting by yourself, considering the fact that you don’t like any of the outdoor activities, makes him upset. he’d very much rather stay with you, making sure you aren’t lonely, watching over you as you pluck wildflowers from the grass.

“jeonghan?” seungkwan starts, getting the attention of the both of you. you both look up from your hands, where the both of you were looking at the small collection of flora you had found. “are you two dating?”

immediately you guys are grossed out, scooting to the opposite ends of the bench. “ew, no! that’s disgusting! we’re just friends, right?” jeonghan says, grimacing at the idea, before turning to you.

you nod, a small little movement, “just friends. i’m too young to get a boyfriend, and i don’t like how much boyfriends and girlfriends touch. it’s.. icky.”

“you guys touch a lot.. so, doesn’t that mean you’re dating?” when you guys shake your head, he calls the attention of soonyoung, who eventually brings the rest of your friend group over. “soonyoung, they’re dating, right?”

“come on guys, don’t make a crowd like that, it’s overwhelming!” jeonghan complains, partly trying to change the subject, but also trying to save you because he knows you’ll start getting uncomfortable soon.

soonyoung makes his way over, pinch fingers on his chin like he’s making some sort of elaborate analysis. “um, yeah, they’re dating! my sister has a boyfriend, and they do the same stuff as her and jeonghan! they hug every day at the end of school, and you know who else does?”

this small connection creates a moment of silence before everyone bursts out in loud chatter, some complaining about your age, others yelling and screaming about cooties. the commotion is enough to bring the teacher over, ending in your recess cut short and a conversation about why having a boyfriend or girlfriend is not something you should be worried about right now.

your discomfort is eased when you go home and talk to your mom, asking her if you and jeonghan have to date. she’s full of giggles when she lets you know that yes, boys and girls can be just friends, and he’s simply someone who cares a lot about you.

teenhood ୨୧

you’re in your math class, and you’re sat next to seungcheol. jeonghan’s right behind you, not allowed to sit next to you due to his endless chatting. not a single one of you is paying attention, all too focused on the trip to the convenience store that you’re planning to make after school.

you’re writing in cheollie’s notebook with a list of everything you, him, and hannie might want to buy when something hits your head. seungcheol catches it, giving a glare to the boy across the room who threw it. you didn’t even do anything, but just seeing his face freaks you out. he unfolds the piece of paper, and when it’s fully unraveled, you take a look.

‘i like shy girls. will you be my shy girl? - hyungwon’

you look at cheol, who looks at you, before handing the paper to jeonghan. he takes one glance at it, switching his gaze to hyungwon, before tearing the paper up and throwing it on the floor.

the teacher asks him to pick it up and he refuses, giving him one of two referrals for the day. the next one comes after class, sending him home with bloody knuckles and one less friend. not that it mattered anyway, the only friend he truly cares about is you.

every question you ask about his outburst is avoided, not only because he doesn’t want to talk about it, but he doesn’t have an answer. he’s just protective, okay? watching over you like a brother, nothing else.

college ୨୧

it’s nearly 4am when jeonghan finally comes stumbling through the front door of your home, giggling and burping like an idiot. when he sees you it only gets worse, eliciting a sigh from you as he falls into your lap.

“hannie, can you get up please? you’re bending the pages of my book. i spent a lot of money on this.” you complain, yet you make no effort to push him away, heart warm at how content he looks to be with you.

“shit, sorry.” he brushes hair from his eyes, sitting straight up on the couch before his head eventually falls on your shoulder. “i’m so drunk.” you have no idea why he’s making such a statement, and honestly it makes you cringe because.. obviously? all it takes is one whiff for you to know. not even, just look at him.

“i know, and that’s why you should go to bed. it’s almost daytime already.” you say, already helping him up to take him to his bedroom.

“wait!” he puts his hands out, backing away from your grasp, “..can we sleep here? in the living room, like we used to?”

you look at him, so incredibly tired, both physically and mentally, pinching the bridge of your eyebrows as a headache threatens to kick in. he looks so cute, unfortunately for you, pouting as he accidentally falls back into the couch after losing his balance. he straightens back up right away though, even making an effort to put his hands together to help persuade you.

eventually you relent, grumbling about him needing to change out of his clothes as you go grab all your blankets. he follows right behind you, not even thinking twice when he starts stripping while you’re in the middle of stripping his bed of its blankets. he pays no mind to your obvious flusteredness, simply chuckling before going to help you.

there’s a little blanket cushion underneath your backs, little fairy lights creating a cozy atmosphere as you lay facing each other. jeonghan’s eyes keep fluttering shut, begging him to go to sleep, but he fights it, forcing them open to watch you. his hand falls to your cheek, knuckles brushing your skin, running over the side of your face before pushing stray hairs behind your ear.

“you know, i’ve always found you so pretty. like, a crazy amount.” he says bluntly, casually, as if it’s something normal.

“excuse me?”

“yeah.” his voice is so soft, his pupils blown wide as his eyes trail over your pretty features like he’s committing them to memory. “you just have something about you that makes me feel like i’m drowning, and i can’t get out. but i don’t want to. i love it.”

“you’re being weird, han. go to sleep.” you flush, pulling the blanket up to your nose.

immediately he’s propping himself up on his elbow, other hand pulling it back down. “let me see you, please…” he nearly zones out for a good while, making you squirm as his eyes lock onto your face.

“you know.. i think i love you. i always have.” he pauses, looking you over before taking a look at himself, his surroundings, and the entire apartment you rent together, “yeah. i never really understood what love looked like, but i get it now. i look at us, and i know. it’s us.” he chuckles.

“jeonghan, wh- you’re drunk, you can’t just say that when you don’t even mean it-”

“shh, shh, i’m not lying. there’s some saying or whatever, right? anyway, long story short, i’m telling the truth and i’m gonna go throw up now.”

adulthood ୨୧

you’re walking down the streets of paris, walking alongside your boyfriend, jeonghan, with seungcheol and the others on your other side. it’s time for one of those week-long group vacations, and for some reason jeonghan forced everyone to agree to go out of the country. usually your trips are only thirty minutes or so from home, but this time you’ve gone days away. you keep asking him why he spent so much money for everyone to come out here, but he just shrugs, saying eh, i needed a change of scenery.

the bags in your hands are getting heavy as you walk down the streets of the shopping district, everything’s lit up in the night lights, river glistening as you and the group walk alongside it. jeonghan forced you to leave your wallet at the mansion-turned-rental that you all are staying at, paying for literally everything you touched. by now, you’ve racked up copious amounts of jewelry and other accessories, and just as you turn to him, ready to indirectly ask why he hasn’t started carrying your bags for you, you realize he stopped walking. everyone stopped walking, actually.

“hannie? guys, what are you doing?” you look at jeonghan, standing alone with a nervous smile, the rest in a small clump behind him. they shush you, pointing and gesturing to your boyfriend.

“baby, come here,” he says, breathlessly, taking your hands when you come close enough. “wanna know why i brought you here?” you hum, and he tries his hardest to hide the shaking in his breath before he continues speaking.

“it’s because i wanted to give you something special. a trip with all your favorite people, me first obviously..” he chuckles, “but seriously. i want this to be a trip for you to remember, because it’s going to be the last one before our lives change.. a lot.”

he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a tiny velvet box, and your eyes nearly fall out of your head as he drops to one knee. your full name falls from his lips, and all of a sudden you’re tearing up as he starts a little speech.

“i still remember the first time i saw you. on the first day of kindergarten. you were crying, sobbing actually, because you didn’t want to leave your mom. a lot of our other classmates were crying too, but you were the only one i felt bad for. everyone else? i wanted them to shut up.. seriously.” he doesn’t waste a second to glance at a few of your friends behind him, laughing as their complaints help to ease his nerves a bit. “since then, i made it a mission to help things.. not suck for you. at least back then, i wanted you to be happy during school. but.. we got older, and we never drifted apart. as the years went by, i my mission changed, even if i didn’t know. it changed to me.. wanting you to be happy always. for your whole life. that’s still what it is today. so, if you’d let me try my best to succeed, will you please marry me?”

you don’t even hesitate to nod yes, falling into his arms, kissing him while you cry like the same baby you were twenty something years ago. the same crybaby jeonghan fell in love with, and will continue to love forever.

the wedding ୨୧

yet again the tears keep falling as you stand before your fiancee, stuttering and sniffling through your vows. you poured your whole heart into them, so so grateful for the life you’ve gotten to live alongside jeonghan. he’s been your rock through everything, like a little island that’s always there to listen, always there to help. there’s not a single person on this earth who knows you better than he does, not even yourself. before he learned to read the alphabet, he knew how to read your emotions, read between the lines of everything you said and help you accordingly. he’s who you go to for everything, he’s who you think of first when anything good happens, and it’s been like that ever since you were little, back when you were little, still finger painting as a class activity.

it’s his turn now, and he pretends that something’s in his eyes as he wipes them, making the crowd laugh. he takes a deep breath in before pulling a loose leaf paper from his blazer and clearing his throat.

“it’s been thirty years of knowing you, loving you, and i think it’s time that i finally make a confession.. do you remember when we were in college, and i came home drunk? yeah, yeah, i know it happened a bunch of times.. but there’s one specific occasion where i mentioned how much i love you. i always lied about that night, saying i didn’t remember, but i think now’s the time where i tell you.. i did. and i still stand by everything i said. i’ve always been yours, since i befriended you back when we were five. i didn’t know it, but that exact moment is when my heart became yours. it has been ever since then. you are the best thing the world has ever given me, and i’ll forever be indebted to you for showing me what love is like, and how proud and lucky i am to be able to give that to you. i’m incredibly grateful to have you in my life, and.. oh, you thought i could go a whole ment without any teasing? funny.. anyway, i’m so incredibly lucky to be marrying you, and so excited to be legally tied to my favorite crybaby. now, let’s get married, hm?”

after many teary giggles and kisses, you and jeonghan are finally husband and wife. it feels so right, so perfect. it’s not even anything different, you guys are just living the same life you always have, doing the same routine, all with a new title. yet, it feels good knowing that you are legally each other’s, rather than just in your heads. the whole night is spent basking in that, full of joy knowing that you are forever tied together, each other’s firsts and lasts.

getting older ୨୧

you can’t do as much as you used to, and you’re getting to the age where you start getting discounts at local events. your skin is littered with scars and wrinkles, evidence of all the joy and laughing you’ve experienced throughout life. you’re committed to a life at home, planting pretty little flowers in your garden and sitting on the porch of your country home, reading books and waving at the little kids playing in the street. it’s peaceful, and most dread the part of life where you get old, but to you? it’s perfect. everything you’ve ever needed.

jeonghan’s car pulls into the driveway, and his smile shines bright as he makes his way toward you. he falls into the seat next to you on the swinging bench with a groan, rubbing his creaky knees as he hits the cushion. suddenly, his grimace switches to something sweeter as he pulls a pretty bouquet of flowers from behind his back, placing it in your lap with a smile.

“you deserve something nice.” he says, leaning in for a kiss. you wrap an arm around him, returning the affection before placing your head in his neck.

“i love them, hannie, they’re so beautiful.” you smile, eyes closed and all as he strokes your hair, looking down at you like he’s met an angel. to him, he did.

“my pretty angel only deserves the best, no?” he leans back, letting you cuddle into him as you watch the clouds.

“i wouldn’t say pretty, now.. i’ve got wrinkles, and my hair is grey.” you pout.

he shushes you, peppering kisses over every wrinkle, and all over your crown. “bullshit- oh, sorry, i mean.. nonsense. you’re just as beautiful as you were when we met, okay? like i said, my pretty angel only deserves the best, right?” he looks at you expectantly until you hum in agreement, “now, if only i was able bodied enough to still give you the best in bed, oh i’d show you-”

“jeonghan!” you giggle, swatting at his chest. he only pouts, shrugging innocently as you laugh together. despite getting older with every day, he never fails to make you feel just as beautiful and just as loved as you did back when you were twenty.

the sixteen year old girl across the street watches you both with her friends, and they all nod in agreement when they say that they only want a love like that. something so sweet, so pure that everyone can just tell how long you’ve loved each other. every day, he comes home from work (don’t worry, it’s not taxing at all and he gets paid good) with a cute little gift for you, his eyes turning into big hearts at the grateful little smile you give him every time. the whole neighborhood adores you two, looking at you both as models of pure, true love.

the end ୨୧

it’s late at night, and after a good few hours of stiffly slow dancing to your favorite music, you and jeonghan finally lay down. you spent the night doing a lot of things you haven’t done in a while, now that you think about it, and it was quite refreshing. you ate a bunch of junk food, sang silly songs with unnecessary amounts of curse words, and now you’re ending it with endless pillow talk.

neither of you addressed it, but you both have a feeling that this is the last time you’ll be able to do this. you aren’t scared. this may be the first time you aren’t afraid, but jeonghan looks so calm that you feel like things will be okay. he simply shot up, definitely pulling something in the process, taking your hand and offering for you both to spend it having as much fun as possible.

that you did! the whole night was spent reminiscing on the past decades with each other, and it truly felt like you were traveling back to that point in time. each photobook you flipped through, each friend you thought of and silently congratulated for outliving you both, it all felt.. peaceful. maybe a little bittersweet, but every moment is looked back on fondly.

“we’ve spent all of our lives together,” he starts, fingers combing through your hair as you lay down together. “i’d say you made them the best years of my life, but that’d be dumb. you were there for the whole thing.”

you chuckle, tucking your head into his neck. “it’s okay, i’d say the same thing.”

he hums, “seriously, though. you make me so happy. i don’t think you know just how much.”

it’s then that you fall asleep for what would be the last time, promises of a more romantic tomorrow. no death talk was allowed, jeonghan wouldn’t have that. you only spoke of a ‘next time’, one where you were definitively together. you don’t fight it, just accept that you’re falling asleep in his arms for the last time. it’s okay, because you’re passing knowing that you lived a full, long life. one where you never doubted how much you were loved.

thank you so much for reading! reblogs + feedback are much appreciated ♡

svt 🏷️ @coquettejunnie @prettymoles @polarisjisung @ikozen

1 to 13 🏷️ @markkiatocafe

#mejaemin #svt #seventeen #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #yoon jeonghan #yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #yoon jeonghan fluff #jeonghan fluff #special ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ♡ ˚#— 1 to 13 𖧷₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔

163 notes · View notes

saltcxrcle · 26 days ago

Text

hold me, console me ── . ✶ s. winchester

summary: sam's not answering your texts, so you panic and track him down to a hospital OR where dean finds out that you and sam are dating

pairings: established sam winchester x witch!reader, sam winchester x gn afab!reader, sam x jinx!ノ wc: 3.3k warnings: no use of 'y/n', reader is a witch and referred to as jinx, based on my headcanons for this verse, angst, some hurt/comfort, fluff, dean being dean, slightly suggestive but not really, title is a lyric from no one noticed by the marias, kinda edited; all mistakes are my own a/n: happy birthday to sam winchester the loml!! lol ik im still technically on a hiatus but i had to post this in honor of his birthday and i've been meaning to write this since like march and ive been wanting to write for this universe again and so i finally finished it!! i still have shit ton of school work to do but trust ill be coming back soon (and hopefully with a mini series to post for you guys!) but in the meantime enjoy the fic <33 sam winchester masterlist | season of the witch masterlist

IF SAM WASN’T DEAD YET, YOU’D KILL HIM YOURSELF.

It wasn’t like Sam for him to leave your messages unread for more than a day or two, but he had been MIA for almost three days at this point. You didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, knowing how rough some hunts got for the brothers—but there was this pit in your stomach that wouldn’t go away no matter how much tea you drank or how much you tried to distract yourself, the feeling persisted.

You were distracted in class. You knew it, and your students knew it. You glanced down at your phone a couple of times while your students were doing group work that you had assigned after your short lecture. You looked at the digital clock that was mounted on the wall on the other side of the lecture hall.

You quickly got the attention of the class—noting that you had about fifteen minutes before class ended and brought them back from their conversations. You guys had a quick class discussion before dismissing them. Some of your students lingered to ask you a few questions about the assignment you had assigned. You quickly answered them, trying not to be rude to them—eager to leave for the day and head back home, hoping that Sam would have texted you back by now.

You had to resist the urge to check your phone at each stop light as you drove home from the university. You all but shot out of your car with your work bag, your phone clutched tightly in your grip as you made your way inside your house. Your bag fell onto the wooden table with a small ‘thump’ and ignored the way your cat was brushing up against your legs, and you stared blankly at your screen.

Your message still hasn't been seen by Sam. You swallowed the lump of dread that was stuck in your throat as the little white letters reading ‘Delivered’ on your phone taunted you. You let out a harsh breath through your nose as your mind conjured up the worst scenarios that Sam could be in right now.

Seeing Sam’s lifeless eyes flash through your mind and snap you out of your stupor, not wanting to entertain the idea that he was dead. You turned off your phone, tossing it on your kitchen table, right next to your bag as you walked down the hallway and opened the door to your office that doubled as your witchy workspace (Sam came up with the name and always called it that on the rare occasion he stayed over).

You gathered the ingredients for tracking spells, some enchanted fire, and a spare map of the country. You took a deep breath before murmuring some Latin before lighting the map on fire. The spell took no longer than forty-five seconds to perform, and you were left with Sam’s location. You swiftly figured out that he was in a hospital in Hyde Park, Utah. After making a few phone calls and canceling class—you were on a redeye flight to the closest airport to that city.

It was safe to say that your anxiety was at an all-time high at this point as you gripped the armrest of the chair. You couldn’t stay still, your knee bouncing up and down rapidly as you stared hard outside of the airplane window. You were grateful that there was practically no one on this flight—it wasn’t a commercial flight, the plane being a tad bit smaller than your average one, but you thought that no one was heading to Utah this time of year.

You thought the next time you’d see Sam, you would be excited to see him and his infuriatingly gorgeous face, but you were uneasy and tense as you impatiently waited for the flight to be over.

“Would you like something to eat or drink?” A kind voice pulled you from your spiraling thoughts.

You tore your eyes away from the window to the flight attendant, who had a polite smile on her face as she waited for you to respond.

You cleared your throat. “Yeah, do you guys have any tea?”

She nodded. “We have chamomile, jasmine, green, or hibiscus tea.”

“I’ll take some chamomile.” You sent the flight attendant a smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes as your lingering thoughts of Sam started to become more prevalent.

“Okay, I’ll be right back with your tea.” She sent you another smile before making her way down the aisle and to her station.

You let out a long breath before looking back out the window. Once you had landed (the chamomile tea you had did nothing to calm your nerves), you immediately got into the rental car and made your way to the hospital he was in. Did you break a few traffic laws? Well, if no one caught you, did you really break them? But you made it to the hospital in record time as you quickly parked and made your way into the lobby of the sterile building.

When you entered the lobby, Dean was sitting on one of the chairs waiting for Sam to be discharged and immediately spotted your frazzled condition with your slightly rumpled clothing and frizzy hair—a stark contrast to your usual put-together outfits and calm composure. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight of you, confused as to how you knew where they were and why you were even there.

Just before you were going to ask the receptionist about Sam, the elevator doors opened—your head instinctively jerked in the direction of them, and out came your boyfriend, looking worse for wear but alive.

The pit in your stomach finally settled, and a wave of relief washed over you. You didn’t even notice Dean getting from his chair and heading towards you. Your eyes were strictly on a limping Sam heading down the hallway toward the lobby.

You didn’t think as your feet started to carry you to Sam, his eyes finally dragging up from the floor and meeting your teary gaze as you met him in the middle of the hallway. His eyes widened, filled with confusion as you approached him with determined steps.

Uncaring of who was around you, you didn’t hesitate to gather Sam’s face in your hands and pressed your lips against his. You could feel Sam's surprise at the initial contact—but he sank into the familiar feeling of your soft lips moving against his. Sam’s hands came to rest on your waist as your hands cradled his face, feeling the warmth of his cheeks against your chilled palms.

Dean looked at the scene in front of him with widened eyes, a myriad of emotions coursing through him. Saying that Dean was shocked was an understatement. Seeing Sam kiss the witch that he would consider an ally/reluctant friend was something he wouldn’t have imagined in a million years—but here was his brother kissing you back in front of him.

Sam pulled back, registering that Dean was right behind you and the fact that you were standing in front of him. His eyes darted to Dean, trying to read the expression plastered on his face, but it was unreadable.

Sam’s attention was drawn back to you. “What are you doing here?” He asked after clearing his throat, a knot of nerves tangling up in his stomach.

“Really?! That’s the first thing you ask me? I should be asking you that question Winchester.” You thrust a finger at his chest, “You were the one who hasn’t responded to me in almost four days.” You huffed, “You never do that without a warning.” You added quietly.

Sam winced at the use of his last name. You were definitely mad at him. He grabbed the hand you were pointing at him with, rubbing circles into the back of your hand to try and quell your rising anger.

“I know, I’m sorry. We got caught up in the case and when we were tracking the nest, there were a lot more than we anticipated and they got one over on us. My phone broke and well,” Sam gestured to his slightly battered appearance, “You can guess what happened after.”

The anger left your body as your eyes raked over Sam’s figure—there was a gash on his forehead and on the bridge of his nose, and you can only imagine what he looked like underneath his clothes—it must have been serious if Dean had taken Sam to the hospital.

Your shoulders relaxed as you sighed. “Sorry, I just got caught up in my head and it jumped to the worst possible situation you could have been in.”

Sam smiled down at you, his hands resting on your shoulders. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You were just worried.” He leaned down and kissed your forehead. “It’s cute that you were though.” Sam murmured into your forehead before pulling away.

You lightly hit his stomach in retaliation, a playful scowl on your face before it morphed into a tender smile that mirrored Sam’s.

“Not trying to break up this very heartwarming reunion, but when did this even happen?” You jumped at the sound of Dean’s drawling voice and whipped around to see him standing behind you with crossed arms and an impassive expression plastered on his face.

Sam moved past you, hiding you behind him, shielding you from the potential wrath of Dean. “Can we do this at the motel?” Sam said sharply, before sending his brother a look—a silent conversation passing through the two of them before Dean scowled slightly.

Dean stalked off, grumbling under his breath. Sam let out a breath before turning to you.

“He’s gonna kill me isn’t he?”

Sam shook his head. “He won’t, not if I have anything to say about it. Besides, Dean likes you more than Rowena.”

“I think you mean he tolerates me more than her.” You pointed out.

It wasn’t lost on you the fact that Dean hated, no loathed, witches with a passion. You knew he was reluctant to work with you from the minute that you told them that you were one yourself—always keeping you at arm's length and telling you the second that you stepped out of the proverbial line, you’d get a witch-killing bullet to the skull.

“Trust me, he’d call you before calling Rowena for help.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Because he knows I wouldn’t ask for anything in return other than the promise that you guys won't ask for my help again.”

“And yet you still help us. Wonder why that is?” Sam asked with a cheeky smile on his face.

You rolled your eyes. “Let’s get to the motel before your brother actually decides to kill me.”

You followed behind the Impala in your rental car to the motel the boys were staying in and quickly parked. You were led to their room, and it felt like you were in trouble and got sent to the principal’s office.

Dean stood across the room from where you and Sam were. You were standing by the entrance just in case things went south and you could make a quick escape.

“So,” Dean started, with his hands on his hips like a disappointed father ready to scold his kids. “How long has this been going on?” He gestured to you and Sam with a slight frown on his face.

You and Sam glanced at each other before Sam cleared his throat.

“Almost a year.” Sam scratched at the back of his neck, a sheepish expression on his face as he took in the look of surprise that passed through Dean.

Dean’s brows furrowed, clearly connecting the dots in his mind. “So, when you said you were-”

“Yeah, I was visiting Jinx.” Sam cut him off, confirming his suspicions.

Dean let out a breath. “Okay.”

You and Sam exchanged confused looks with one another.

“What do you mean by ‘okay’?” You spoke for the first time since you entered the room.

“I mean, you guys can date or whatever you guys have been doing for the past year. It’s none of my business.” Dean shrugged before moving to the mini fridge in the room and grabbing a beer.

You were sure you were living in an alternate universe right now. Dean Winchester giving you the seal of approval (or what you considered the seal of approval) to date his brother.

“But if you hurt my brother or do anything to betray us, you know I won’t hesitate to plant a-”

“I got it. Any bodily harm or emotional damage done to any of you and I don’t ever see the light of day again.” You interrupted quickly, “Heard you loud and clear.” You sent Dean a tight smile as he raised his beer in the air towards you, a silent confirmation and agreement of your words.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, but he was relieved that Dean didn’t make it a bigger deal than it needed to be.

You turned to Sam. “I’m going to grab another room.” You glanced between the two brothers, and there was lingering tension. You figured that they needed to settle before you headed back home.

Sam nodded and kissed your cheek before you left the room. Once the door shut with a soft click, Sam stared at Dean, who was sitting at the edge of the bed he had claimed to be his own almost a week before.

“So, you’re really okay with it? Me being with Jinx?” Sam questioned as he sat down on his bed.

Dean took a sip of his drink before responding. “Yeah, I mean I would have preferred someone who wasn’t a witch.” Dean joked before looking at Sam. “You’ve been happier lately and I couldn’t figure out why, but now I do. As much as I hate to admit it, you’re good for each other.”

Sam shook his head at his brother. Always count on Dean to give the both of you a backhanded compliment. “Thanks. I think?” A slightly puzzled smile on Sam’s lips.

“No problem.”

There was a knock on the door, and Sam got up and gingerly walked (limped) to the door and saw you with your bag slung on your shoulder, a tired smile on your face.

“Got a room?” Sam asked as leaned on the doorway.

You nodded in response before jostling your bag by your side. “I brought some things to help speed along the process.” You gestured to his injured face. “Walk with me to my room?”

Sam nodded before turning back into the room and grabbing his bag from the floor. “I’m going with Jinx, don’t wait up.” He informed Dean.

Dean’s lips pulled up into a sly grin. “Okay, make sure you wear protection! I don’t want to be an uncle right now.”

Sam’s cheeks flushed red. “Fuck off Dean.” He quickly closed the door, cutting off the boisterous laugh that escaped Dean.

An amused smirk was on your face at the scene and at Sam’s reddened cheeks.

“I hate him.” Sam breathed out.

You couldn’t help the small chuckle that left you, making Sam snap out of his embarrassment and smile down at you. You smiled back at him before you started to walk to your room, Sam following close behind.

Once you made it into the room, you quickly ushered Sam to the nearest bed and set your bag down right next to him as he got settled on the edge of it. You pulled out the various healing salves and bandages that you hastily packed before leaving your house.

“Take off your shirt.” You told him as you opened the lid to one of your salves.

“At least take me to dinner first.” Sam teased as he unbuttoned the flannel he was wearing.

“Haha. Very funny.” You shot him a deadpan look, but the corner of your lips was twitching, threatening to pull into a smile.

He pulled off his shirt, trying to hide the grimace of pain that passed through his face as his ribs were screaming in protest from the movements. His sides and ribs were bruised, and his torso was covered in minor nicks and gashes that were covered in gauze and that needed to be changed.

You worked quickly, the room filled with silence but being broken once in a while with the harsh intake of breath that Sam would have if you pressed into a tender spot. As you worked, Sam took the time to let his eyes roam your face and figure. It had been almost a month and a half since he had seen you in person, and even though your appearance had barely changed, he could see the worry etched into your features.

Sam instinctively raised his hand and used his thumb to smooth out the wrinkle between your brows. You looked up from bandaging the last gash in his tanned skin, meeting his hazel eyes.

“Hey, I’m okay.” He murmured as Sam’s hand moved to cup your face.

You let out a shuddering breath and leaned into the warmth of his palm. All of the stress and anxiety that you were trying to suppress for the past twenty-four hours seemed to unravel at the comfort Sam was trying to provide. You could feel your eyes start to sting with tears, and before you knew it, one fell from your eye unwillingly—then others began to follow it in its footsteps down your face.

Sam was quick to pull you into his lap, and you went willingly. His arms wrapped around you as you tucked your face into his neck, tears streaming down your face as you silently cried in the comfort of Sam’s arms. Sam didn’t say anything, pressing the occasional kiss to your head as one of his hands rubbed your back and the other cradled your head.

Eventually, your tears stopped, and Sam moved the two of you back onto the bed, heads resting on the pillows as you faced each other. Sam wiped your face, which was wet with tears, before pressing a soft kiss on your forehead, then one on either of your cheeks, another on the tip of your nose—making you smile, before pressing his lips against yours in a tender kiss.

Sam poured all of the reassurances and unspoken promises into the kiss, sending warmth through your chest as you sank into his embrace. You eventually broke the kiss, Sam pressing one last lingering peck on your lips before resting his forehead against yours, breathing in the comforting scent of jasmine, honey, cinnamon, and something that he could only describe as distinctly you.

Sam’s mouth moved before he could even think about what he was saying. “Move in with me.”

Your eyes snapped open as you stared into the intense hazel hue of his eyes, trying to find any kind of teasing or amusement in his gaze.

“You’re serious?” You whispered.

Sam nodded, his hair shifting against the pillowcase as he kept his eyes trained on you.

“What does Dean think about this?”

“Dean can deal with it. We have plenty of room in the bunker, and it would be more convenient than driving out to meet you or ask for help.” Sam started to spout out reasons why you should move in with him.

Before he could get ahead of himself, you shut Sam up by placing a hand on his mouth. “I’ll think about it. And I’d rather not move in if Dean isn’t okay with it, so please ask him.”

Sam moved your hand from his mouth, a slight pout on his face, and looked at you with pleading eyes.

You groaned slightly at the sight of Sam’s puppy eyes. “Don’t give me that look, I didn’t say no. Just let me sit on the idea before we jump the gun, okay?” You told him. You knew if you moved in with him, you’d say goodbye to the life that you built for yourself and take a plunge back into the hunting life.

Sam sighed but nodded. “I love you.” He whispered in the little space that you shared with him.

“I love you too Sammy.”

233 notes · View notes