#but then he has the classic italicized oh moment | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shirophantomvox · 3 years

Text

Hold My Hand- Illumi x Reader

OMG thank you! My first international fan! Thank you for this wonderful prompt! This was requested by @illucilfer .

Summary: Today’s story takes place in a 1950s diner by a frequently used Interstate; Interstate 95. We know this dinner for its delicious hamburgers, hot dogs, milkshakes, and jukebox records, but every night one Patreon never returns home. A few men who were angry about your recent arrest have shot you both. As you both stare at each other exchanging mental signals, everyone around you tries to help you to the hospital. Y/N is narrating the story. I seem to have fewer grammar errors that way. FYI, Bold and italicized font will reference a thought or flashback.

Story Navigation

Let’s get started!

The leaves have turned bright yellow and orange, fluttering every second to the ground. I could hear little children a while away laughing and playing in the community park; throwing up the leaves, jumping into piles, and throwing them at each other. The smell of freshly baked donuts brightened everyone’s mood. All you had to do was take one bite and your face would brighten and crack a smile. Dining at Cupid’s Kitchen will always have your heart and interest.

Interstate 95 was always heavy with traffic during this time of year. The folks of Dallas celebrated mulch annually. The “Mulch Fest” was a street fair that stretched 1.5 miles to the east that contained music, drinks, farmer panels, homemaker Q&A, and other activities that southerners enjoy. Illumi and I are only here because of an unfinished assignment. We have worked night and day for countless days trying to catch Jack “Da Hamor” Gilberton, but he was nowhere to be found. Eventually, I allowed my anger to get the best of me and made the executive decision to take a day off. I barred Illumi from searching, tracking, or any form of hunting for our target. The life of a bounty hunter and an assassin can thrill, but it can drive you insane if you allow it.

Ironically, Illumi and I both enjoy fall. It is perfect for cuddling (although he acts as if he’s too good to cuddle), wearing creative hoodies, going to pumpkin patches, and attending apple orchids. I tend to “lose my cool” when we have dates there. When I was a child, my family did not go on trips like these because they were over an hour away from our home and I had 5 siblings. But once I made money for myself, I made it my mission to go to one at least 5 times out of the year. Illumi enjoys the different fudge, hot cider, and candy apples. He almost broke a tooth on one!

“Say cheese snag-a’-tooth!”

“Stop it. It’s not funny!”

“It is! Could you imagine if you lost your two front teeth? You’d look almost adorable as you did in the 1st grade!”

“How did you know about that?”

“Duh! It happens to everyone, but your mother showed me the pictures, of course.”

“Curses!”

Illumi’s sweet tooth is just like Killua’s; both have a weakness for chocolate. Except, Killua will admit defeat while his older brother keeps denying it.

Cupid’s Dinner has been in Dallas for over 55 years. A black woman established it in 1945 by the name of Mary-Lou Benson. Since then, Mary’s family has been running the shop, making sure all of her customers are happy with the service. During the turn of each season, Cupid’s Dinner gives its customer's food options based on the season. The fall options include donuts, candy apples, different flavored cider, fudge, and hot coffee specials. As much as everything looked appetizing, I could not order it all. Our server, Little Ben, placed our drinks in front of us and handed us the menu. I could tell he was happy with his line of work, just as I was to be with Illumi.

“You all take your time. I’ll be back in five.”

Ilumi glanced on both sides of the room, scanning for Jack Gilberton, already forgetting the agreement we established.

“Illumi, what are you doing?”

“Huh?”

“You keep looking around like you’ve seen Da Hamor. Eat your donut and relax, sweetheart.”

“I cannot relax. I must stay on alert.”

“If I can relax, so can you. It’s not that hard.”

“Fine. If I die, it’s on your head… literally.”

The jingling bell rang almost every second when a customer walked in. It was a joy to everyone's ears; the spirit of Mary Lou-Benson was alive and well. An overwhelming feeling of love seemed to have overtaken the diner. After examining the bistro for quite some time now, each customer had been using their cellphones at the table instead of chatting with their families. Many traditional families hated that about this generation but they should be open to new traditions forming. Illumi dislikes using cell phones or tablets at the table unless we use them for missions. He has emphasized how rude it is to be surfing the web about utter nonsense while someone is speaking. This is a pet peeve of his, something I’ll never step on his toe about. Although I think that is overdoing it, I respect it.

Little Ben served our table quickly, leaving us with two dishes of a classic chicken sandwich, kettle chips, one chocolate, and vanilla milkshake. Milkshakes were my weakness; I nearly foam at the mouth when I see one. When I found out that Illumi had NEVER had a milkshake, I almost fainted.

“No. I’ve never had a milkshake.”

“Huh? You’re missing out, pal.”

“What’s the big deal? Isn’t it frozen milk?”

“Not just frozen milk. You can add many flavors, toppings, and whip cream!”

“Well, then. You’ll have to show me sometime.”

We thanked Little Ben for his service as he clocked out for the day.

“I have to admit these sandwiches look very appetizing.”

“You can say that again!”

Before I nibbled on my sandwich, I wanted to take a moment and adore the man before me; Illumi Zoldyck. A man full of mysteries, professionalism, skill, and talent. His enormous eyes were immersed in the large pieces of chicken in between the sourdough bread. He licked his index finger vigorously; allowing the homemade honey mustard to drip enough from the bread to the plate in between licks. Just the sight of him actually relaxing for once has blown me away. For once, Illumi Zoldyck could be himself and I had the privilege to witness it.

“Um… why are you staring at me? Do I have food on my face,” he asked; violently wiping his mouth off with a provided cloth napkin.

“Oh! Ha, ha; no reason. I wanted to see your reaction after drinking your milkshake. That’s all.”

“Why? It’s just a drink.”

“Whatever you say, babe.”

“Babe? What happened to LuLu or Illumi-Lu?”

I gasped and pretended to be surprised… although I was a little.

“I did not know that you liked those pet names. I assumed it mortified you.”

“Who told you that? That never rolled off my tongue. “What I said was” — He bent closer to the table and to me; glancing both to the right and left to ensure no wandering ears were around — “I prefer Illumi-Lu to be said in the bedroom and LuLu when we’re alone, like how we are right now.”

“Aww…. ok,” I yelled in excitement.

“Don’t blow it out of proportion, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

As we ate, Illumi hummed along to the tune that played a few times on the restaurant's jukebox. Illumi and I were born in the mid-90s, but listening to 50s music was a part of his aesthetic. I was told that he had an “old soul” which sounds romantic at first until you realize how men were during that era. His raging temper was a noticeable toxic trait, but it has drastically improved. Nonchalantly sipping on his milkshake and then eating more of his chips, he grazed the soft part of his left hand over mine as he continued to hum.

“What’s the name of this song? You seem to know it rather well.”

“Put your head on my shoulder, a famous song from the 60s. I heard my parents sing it once and since then, they have addicted me to it. Do you like it?”

“Yes, in fact, I love it. All of this is—”

“A surprise to you? Well, enjoy it while it lasts because once I find Jack Gilberton, this side of me will hide for a while.”

“Understood.”

Damn! I was just feeling connected to him again!

The music swelled; everyone seemed to be happy. Not an evil spirit insight to disrupt this beautiful moment. For once in my life, my raven-haired beauty actually held my hand tight, stole a few of my barbecue kettle chips, and gazed into my eyes harmlessly. His lips brushed against both of my hands, ever so lightly placing kisses on both sides of them. Illumi’s gentle smile warmed my heart as my lingering thoughts of hope stayed intact.

The welcoming bell jingled again. Two men in black leather jackets, stone-washed blue jeans, and tattooed all over their arms came into the diner. The men seemed to be bikers who had just left their own “spot” but one thing struck me as they continued to walk towards the staff. They both wore sunglasses when the sunset for the day. Not to mention that the lights were not dim in the diner and the moon was as bright as ever. The second man had his eyes glued in my direction. My heart beat faster as I wondered if Jack Gilberton had found us. Could you imagine?

Put your head on my shoulder

Hold me in your arms, baby

Squeeze me oh-so-tight

Show me you love me too

I am used to coming in contact with enemies on my hit list, but given Jack’s criminal history; I felt like I may not survive his attacks. Illumi will survive, but just barely. Both men approached the checkout, crowing over Little Ben’s sister. She was a short woman but full of might, and I could tell by the shakiness in her voice she was frightened. I wanted to step in so badly, but I didn't want to blow my cover just in case it was, in fact, Jack Gilberton. After I assume, ordering food, both men stood by the entrance, blocking it from others from entering and leaving. The sound of their old, beat up-lighters crackled as one lit a joint and the other lit a cigarette. This horrid smell ruined the atmosphere because they were not in a designated area and it drowned out the lovely aroma of the food being served.

“If you gentlemen would like to smoke, you need to go outside. There is no smoking in here.”

“What? You think you’re better than me because you don’t smoke?”

“Huh? I never said that, sir. I asked for you to go outside. Not all of our customers can deal with it.”

They did not move a muscle. The sound of their mucous laughter made everyone’s stomach turn. They laughed at the young girl and called her many slurs. Little Ben’s sister didn’t flinch, nor did she cry; she remained still, staring at the men. I had just enough of their obnoxious behavior.

“If you do not leave, I will call the police.”

“The hell you won’t.”

Put your lips next to mine, dear

Won't you kiss me once, baby?

He drew a gun from his left side. He aimed it at Little Ben’s sister and demanded that she emptied the drawer. She refused. Her stone, iron will reminded me of Illumi; no matter the circumstance, they remained intact, determined to fight until the end. Bravery is always encouraged, but too much will cause your life to be taken away. Little Ben’s sister grabbed a fake till that they kept under the real one and threw it at both men. Fake money fluttered everywhere in the small diner, mimicking confetti. Gunshots rang in all directions as the imbeciles recklessly shot, aiming for Little Ben’s sister. Everyone threw themselves on the ground to avoid being shot, but luck cannot spread itself throughout an entire room of people. A young child, an older man, and another worker were shot in their lower leg. Blood reflected from the ground as it continued to seep. Ignoring injured civilians is a jackass move and continuing to deny the fact would prove that the oath I pledge to meant nothing. Sure, bounty hunters must remain hidden, but if someone is injured, I must help them.

The child was lying lifeless on the polished marble floor. He would not respond to my shaking or my silent whispers. When I rolled him over, my heart broke into a million pieces. This child had no chance of survival; a few bullets struck his chest, one just inches away from his heart. A tear rolled down my cheek.

“Why must the good die young,” I whispered to myself.

“... Because snitches get stitches.”

Before I could gain sight of who stated this utterly corny response, I felt an overwhelming amount of pain in my lower back. It felt like a million tiny needles were jabbed so far through my skin that they entered my intestine. I could still hear, but my body would not move. I tried and tried, but my brain would not signal my legs.

Move! Move, damn it!

It’s odd; I could hear myself talk, but my body would not move at all. The sound of another thudding body made my mind jump. My heart had already been pounding enough to try to resuscitate my organs to move, but a familiar semi-blurring sight of none other than Mr. Illumi Zoldyck cleared my sight. My brain went wild. I didn’t know if Illumi died or if he became paralyzed, but one thing is for sure. We finally made eye contact that felt special; something I hadn’t felt since the day I met him. Our contact felt like magnets; an unbreakable bond. Suddenly, my icy hand felt warmth around my palm and fingers. Illumi simultaneously fell in a way that connected our hands. Our unbreakable bond, the warmth of his fingers laying on top of mine, and the gaze we shared somehow made me feel like it was just the two of us alone. I could hear his thoughts loud and clear; thoughts that came from the heart.

“Please help me. Before it’s too late, LuLu,” I cried, thinking I was going insane. “I don’t want to leave if it means leaving you behind.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

“Please! I want to live a life. Life as a bounty hunter, build a support system to our children, and a good lover is all I want to be.”

“You are a warrior and so am I. We have been through worse. This is nothing.”

Mere eye contact is all we need to exchange wandering conversations. The bond that we’ve created is something so strong that I haven’t realized it until now. The warmth emitted from his loose grasp seems to lose its effectiveness. It blurred my vision beyond recognition, leaving Illumi as a near figment of my imagination.

“Oh no. I guess this is it.”

My vision darkened. Illumi was slipping away as my lingering thoughts almost made my heart give out from exhaustion. I was ready to accept my fate, but it seemed like fate had other plans. My vision was still darkening by the second, but my sense of touch remained there. Smooth fingers outline my arms, torso, and chest. I heard muffled voices yelling and screaming about calling for assistance, but I didn’t care if they came or not. I made peace with my life’s end. Bit by bit, my breathing slowed down, but my sense of touch remained heightened. I felt a rubber glove touch my face and neck, examining it for any damage.

The jukebox continued to play Illumi’s favorite song, Put Your Head on my Shoulder. I remembered the day I laid my head on his shoulder; boy, what an endearing moment that was. It was something I took for granted, something I should have savored, for I never knew that this moment would have happened. The song grew muffled by the second verse. That verse repeated every time I tried to force myself to take what felt like my last gaze at my raven-haired beauty.

Just a kiss goodnight, maybe

You and I will fall in love (you and I will fall in love)

-FIN.

A/N: Since you’ve made it to the end, I’ll say something. The reader did not die in the end. They were later revived at the hospital.

113 notes · View notes

elareine · 3 years

Note

If you could, can you please write JayTim or RoyTim (whichever one you want) trying to be romantic and woo Tim (maybe with some puns, I love puns), but Tim is a bit oblivious towards it, because the other is so cool, therefore they must be trying to make friends and be nice with him and nothing more. So when he does finally realize its an italicized "Oh" moment.

Hi lovely!! Thank you for waiting so patiently for this fill. I... ended up making it JayRoyTim, I hope that's okay? It just fit so well, but I can totally write something else with JayTim or RoyTim for you if you want :)

Also, it turned out to be about pick-up lines more than wooing, sorry. I might’ve gone overboard with googling the puns. It's long enough that I put it on ao3, too. What's your username on there? Then I'll gift it to you.

if you were a transformer (you’d be optimus fine)

“Well, here I am.”

Tim looks up, utterly confused. “I didn’t call for you, but… that’s… great?”

Roy waggles his eyebrows. It looks faintly disturbing. Redheads should maybe not do that. Or, actually, Tim revises mentally, thinking of literally every other redhead Dick ever dated—that’s just Roy. “What are your other two wishes?”

“Coffee and some silence to finish working this case?”

Roy looks weirdly deflated at that, but he does get him some coffee. Tim soon forgets about it.

—

(“How’d it go?”

“Does obliviousness run in the family?”

“Yes. Yes it does. Have you met Bruce?”

“…okay, fair. Your turn next.”)

—

“Jason? What’re you doing here?”

Sure, Jason and Roy have been spending a lot more time in Gotham lately. Something to do with a case, Tim assumes. Maybe even with the one that they worked on together in Star City five months ago?

Anyway. They’ve been around, is what Tim is saying. Not at the manor, but at Tim’s apartment and his workspace, cause apparently it’s not worth rebuilding their safe house after it went up in flames, and Bruce and Damian are too often at Dick’s place. He’s not exactly surprised to see either of them anymore. (Pleased, yes. But not surprised.) However, Tim has no fucking clue why Jason is currently grinning at him from the other side of the library desk.

At least Tim has the good sense to check his name tag before he gasps: “Jason?”

“Oh, hey, Tim.” Jason’s grinning. “Guess you figured out my new job, huh?”

“Yeah.” Tim shakes his head. “Color me surprised.” So this is what Jason’s spending his days doing. He’s gotta be shadowing someone, right? Tim’ll ask him tonight.

“I’ve always liked this place.” Jason’s gaze is far away for a moment. Tim badly wants to know what he’s remembering. Then the older man seems to come back to himself and gives Tim a weird—maybe angry?—look. “It’s a good thing I’m a librarian, too, cause I’m totally checking you out.”

“Alright, I can take a hint.” Tim grabs his book and demonstratively walks over to the self-service scanners. Really. How rude.

—

(“Are you telling me he managed to resist you in your cardigan?”

“Apparently.”

“Aww. C’mere, babe.”)

—

So Roy blows things up all the time. No, really, Tim now totally understands why Dick was so happy when he heard the duo is camping out at Tim’s place for a change. His older brother even gave Tim a thumbs-up, for God’s sake. He must’ve known.

Cause yeah, there’s at least one explosion every two days. Or Roy dropping something cause he’s too focused on what he’s thinking to remember what his hands are doing. Or something dropping on him. Jason seems used to it; he just catches whatever it is or laughs at Roy. Tim… is starting to learn to do the same, actually. Whatever Roy comes up with at that moment is usually worth it, and besides, he’s kinda adorable.

Aaaaaaanyway. (He’s using that word a lot in his own thoughts right now. Almost as if he’s avoiding thinking about something. Hmm.) Tim’s not surprised when Roy walks into a room, stumbles, and slaps a hand over his eyes with a dramatic exclamation.

Tim, in shorts and not much else cause he got drenched in pollen earlier, just raises an eyebrow. “Alright, Roy?”

“Nope.” Roy’s hand is still covering his face, but Tim can still see his grin underneath. “I’m gonna need your name and phone number for insurance purposes.”

“Roy. You have both of these things,” Tim explains slowly, wondering if Roy sustained a brain injury or accidentally dosed himself on something. “And why insurance?”

“I was blinded by your beauty.”

God. Sometimes Tim wonders about the original Titans and their socialization for the two dudes if this is how they think making friends works. Then again, Kori, Donna, and Dick probably appreciated constant compliments about their beauty. It all makes sense. Roy must be so used to it that he even uses those same methods when someone unexceptional like Tim is around.

He smiles gamely. “I’m looking forward to hearing that phone call. Must be almost as great as the time Bruce tried to convince his insurance company that Clark dropping on his car wasn’t an act of God because God is demonstrably not a Kryptonian. Neither was the giant ape punching Clark out.”

Roy drops his hand at that. “…Batman did what?”

—

(“You were doing so well, too.”

“I knoooow. How much more obvious can we get?”

“I dunno, but I intend to try.”)

—

“Do you like Star Wars? Because Yoda only one for me!”

“Haha. No. Star Trek or die.” Tim’s answer is automatic. He’s had these discussions soooo many times with Kon before. Of course Jason also goes for the space cowboy soap opera.

Besides, Jason’s boyfriend is standing right next to him. He doesn’t mean to sound flirtatious with Tim. Or maybe he does, and it’s just good fun? Or maybe teasing him? Tim can’t figure it out, but he knows he doesn’t like the weird hollow feeling he gets in his stomach when he thinks about it, so he changes the topic.

And makes both of them sit down to watch some classic Captain Kirk, of course.

—

(“Should I be insulted by that pick up line?”

“Nah. There aren’t that many lines that imply a polycule, though.”

A kiss. “Alright.”)

—

One of the things Jason and Tim have in common is their predilection for motorbikes and fiddling around with them. Not that makes them unique in the batclan; Tim has never spent days quietly working side-by-side with Dick, though, the way he does with Jason. They started out with separate projects. Then Jason saw this vintage Ducati at an abandoned warehouse he was about to blow up and, well… Would be a shame, right? Tim just happens to have had one of these before—regrettably lost to one of Harley’s exploding baseball bats—so he offers his expertise.

It’s not because it means bending over the engine with Jason, closer than they ever are, their hands brushing when they hand each other instruments. It’s not.

Roy doesn’t join them. He’s too polite to say so, but he finds normal cars and bikes boring af. Doesn’t stop him from popping his head into the garage and whistling when he sees that they are shirtless and covered in grease. It’s a damn good look on Jason, so Tim can’t fault him for that.

Roy follows it up with a: “Are you a parking ticket? Cause you got fine written all over you.”

Tim can’t help it; he blushes at the suggestive tone. Those two never stop flirting with each other, do they? So far, he has managed to avoid stumbling over them while they’re making out (not that they’re making that easy—the kitchen? Really?), and he’d like to keep avoiding that, thank you very much. He’s already feeling guilty enough for his fantasies as it is.

“Uh. I should clean up,” he mumbles and flees.

—

(“Dammit.”

“…do you think that was a rejection?”

“Nah. He was definitely checking me out before you came and fucked it up.”

“That’s saying something if you noticed it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”)

—

So Tim has magically acquired cat ears and a very fluffy tail. Don’t ask. They’re gonna go away in eight hours, and until then, he’s gonna stay in the cave and work himself to distraction. Jason seems intent on keeping him company, though.

(It’s nice. Tim loves hanging out with Jason—that’s not the problem. The issue is that Tim is looking ridiculous, and Jason is being nice about it, and none of this is helping his stupid crush go away.)

They’re absently chatting about nothing until Jason says: “Kinda a pity you’re a cat, though.”

Tim looks up. Huh? Admittedly, he never pegged Jason as the type to go for catboys (though maybe… he did hang out with Kyle… perhaps it’s just that he definitely doesn’t go for Tims), but that’s still a weird pronouncement.

Jason is grinning. “If you were a chicken, you’d be impeccable.” He pauses. “Wait. Like even more than you already are. Uh.”

Tim sighs. Great. And now Jason is making fun of him again. “Whatever.”

—

(“A chicken?”

“Shut up. I panicked.” A sigh. “He was so cute with these ears.”

“…yeah, he was.”)

—

“You must be tired. You’ve been running through my mind all night.”

“I’m not tired,” Tim says automatically. Why does everyone keep asking him that tonight? Surely the shadows under his eyes can’t be that bad? He used concealer!

Something in Roy’s expression softens. “Aww. C’mere.” He pats the space on the couch next to him, and when Tim sits down, Roy pulls him half of on top of him and into a hug. “Relax for a bit, little bird.”

Tim sinks into the embrace, boneless all of a sudden. Roy just has that effect on him. Tim vaguely remembers thinking of him as his oldest brother’s cool friend and then Jason’s cool boyfriend, kind of a fuckboy but clearly good for Jay.

Now? Now, Roy just makes him feel safe.

—

(“So you spent the night on the couch just so he could sleep in your arms?”

“Yeah. Totally worth it.”

“Duh.”

“I just wish we could do that with him every night. Bet he fits perfectly between us.”

“Yeah.”

A pause.

“We might have to up the ante or switch tactics.”)

—

They’re talking about their favorite books—Tim doesn’t read as much as Jason does, but they discovered a shared love of sci-fi weeks ago—when Tim says: “Actually, that book kinda reminds me of you.”

“Oh?”

“Overly dramatic but good.”

Jason makes an offended noise, and Tim grins.

“I’m not sure which part I should argue about first.” Jason pretends to think.

Tim is always down to tell Jason that fuck his self-perception—Jason is a good man, one of the best Tim knows; that also feels too revealing right now. Instead, he gets up from their comfortable position on the couch and grabs the first stack on the table, carrying them over to the shelves to replace the gaps. “What kind of book would I be?”

“Babe, if you were words on a page, you’d be fine print.”

“Annoying and no one reads it?” Tim asks without turning around, trying to ignore the babe. That’s. That’s gotta be a slip of the tongue, right? Force of habit from spending so much time with Roy?

“No, fine,” and the emphasis is clear this time. Jason continues before Tim can reply: “Though if we’re talking books…”

Tim whirls around. “Save it. You don’t have to make fun of me just because I—“He swallows down the words.

Jason looks alarmed. “Tim—“

As if he can smell trouble, Roy chooses that moment to enter the room. Tim has barely heard him approach, Jesus. He doesn’t want to have this argument in front of Roy, though, so he just stands there in the middle of the room. Jason, too, has stopped speaking.

Roy, of course, takes one look at the awkwardness and decides to make it worse. Or more confusing.

“Did you just come out of the oven?” he asks.

“As this isn’t Hansel and Gretel, no, I didn’t.” Tim checks his shirt, just in case this is an actual conversation opener and not just a weird attempt at a distraction. “Do I have soot on me?”

“Nope.” Roy shakes his head, and he’s smiling that smile again, the one Tim is startled to recognize, the one he thought is reserved only for Jason— “Because you’re hot.”

And finally, Tim gets it. “Me?”

“Yes, Tim.” Roy’s moving in closer. “You.”

There’s a soft touch to Tim’s shoulder, and Tim whirls around, expecting Jason to be mad, cause his boyfriend is—is hitting on Tim, right, that’s what’s happening, Jason can’t be happy—

Jason is smiling down at him. His hand is still resting on Tim’s shoulder, but it slides down to his collar bone, a gentle presence as he murmurs: “You’re so beautiful that you made forget my pick up line.”

Oh. Oh.

Tim says the first thing he can think of: “Are you a raisin?”

Jason starts grinning. “I’m not even gonna qualify that with an answer.”

Tim smiles back. “Cause you’re raising my hopes for a kiss right about now.”

And he gets one. And then another, and then Roy joins in, kissing Tim’s neck and then his mouth and—Yeah.

They’re too busy for any more pick up lines right now.

#elareine writes #jayroytim

131 notes · View notes

dragynkeep · 3 years

Note

saw a headcanon about dabi having bpd. thoughts? you're smart at the psych stuff and i know you're mostly rwby but you do mha too, right?

okay so keep in mind that is my own personal analysis; as a psychology 3rd year student & as someone with bpd. someone else may have a completely different perspective & that's absolutely fine! also do not take my discussions here as a diagnosis for anyone who relates to dabi in these ways.

okay with that out of the way wheeze.

there are nine characteristics of bpd, of which you need five to be classically diagnosed with the disorder. they are:

fear of abandonment, unstable relationships, self harm, inappropriate anger, unclear or shifting self image, impulsive / self destructive behaviours, chronic feelings of emptiness, feeling suspicious out of touch with reality

i bolded the ones which i think dabi has exhibited in canon & i'll go a little more into why i think so here.

unstable relationships, looks at his relationships with his family in canon. oh dear, oh honey. i don't think dabi has had a stable relationship in his life & he's learned that from a very early age, in that his praise & relationship with enji was conditional & dependent on how he behaved, especially in training. when enji stopped that, he unknowingly took away the entire framework that touya was working from in order to progress, one he'd learned entirely from his primary social circle, his father. that's traumatizing for a child & could absolutely also lead into his unclear self image. touya in canon doesn't seem to have a self image, he defines himself solely by those around him & especially in connection to enji. he's enji's son, his demon, the monster from his past, the failure. touya seems to cycle on these depending on his mental state.

fear of abandonment can also play into this, though i italicized that one just because i believe it isn't one of his most forefront characteristics & also seems to take a backseat in his narrative. the most notable moment i can see for it is touya when he was younger, accusing natsuo of "ignoring him" like enji did, which can play into that fear. enji all but abandoned touya to being raised by rei after they were told that touya just couldn't handle the training anymore, & with that loss of a framework, it just broke something in him. however, i don't see this exhibited too much in him as an adult, which could also just be that touya has suppressed it.

self harm is exhibited very clearly in both touya's current day & his childhood; his insistence on training despite enji & rei begging him not to, shows how he didn't care about the hurt or the burns so far as it gains him the attention & praise that he needs. children need attention, they need affection & care & love, & when enji pulled away from touya, he took all of that away from touya too. an interesting design choice to note that could also fall under this would be his staples — clearly they can't be very comfortable or sanitary on the burned areas, but i do wonder if touya put them in or allowed them to be as a reminder.

i think his inappropriate anger is also exhibited, not in that he's angry, which as an abuse victim & a traumatized, angry man who learned his emotions directly tie to how powerful his fire is, but that he exhibits & expresses that anger inappropriately. his anger isn't just directed at the cause of his trauma, he attempts to murder natsuo & shoto as a form of revenge, he harms civilians in a continuous act of revenge, everything touya does is centred around a goal driven by his unending anger — hurting enji.

while i don't think his behaviours are impulsive, they are absolutely self destructive. it isn't exampled anymore more clearly than on his own body, the self inflicted burns in a traumatized child's grasp for affection, touya burned himself up & never stopped burning, even when that destruction spread to others.

now there are also four sub - types of bpd; discouraged, petulant, impulsive & self destructive. people are not locked into one type & this can change but with this analysis of touya, i think that he would fit self destructive the most. touya is literally burning himself up, everything he is, every moment of the day in the aim that he will take enji with him.

bpd is also not a trauma based disorder, the framework & neurochemical balance can exhibit in non traumatized / abused people also. do i think touya would have developed bpd if he was raised in a different environment? i don't know, because our scope of touya begins so early through the scope of enji's abuse & the ideals he had for his child, that ultimately ended up being touya's undoing.

so with this analysis in mind, i would comfortably believe that touya exhibits bpd. & though i don't believe horikoshi intentionally wrote him that way, it's interesting to see how bpd symptoms & symptoms of other marginalized disorders can exhibit in those we see as villains & how those with these disorders can relate with them because of that.

#mha #bnha #touya todoroki #enji todoroki #owl.txt #answered #q #abuse /#self harm /#child abuse /#tw /#ask to tag /

48 notes · View notes

ohdearhiddles · 4 years

Text

SUMMARY: Tom and you are long-time friends, and you have always had feelings for him. At Tom’s wedding, he asks you to dance, and you realize that you need to let go.

TITLE: Letting Go Of You

WORD COUNT: 2806

AUTHOR NOTES/WARNINGS: angsty and sad (my bad); italicized things are flashbacks for the most part!!

You watched as Tom danced slowly with his new bride, eyes filling with tears that anyone else would’ve seen as happy tears. They were anything but, though. These tears were filled with the pain of watching the person you’ve loved for so long and so deeply. Your heart beat inside your chest, each thump filled with the weight of a thousand worlds and a million worries along with it. In the back of your mind you wondered when things had turned out the way it did, and you began to wonder if things would ever be the same. Unfortunately, you knew the answer far too well.

Vividly, you recalled the day Tom announced that he was no longer yours to call upon.

“Y/N,” Tom’s voice rang through the phone. You smiled to yourself; the sound of your name on his lips was still the most pleasant sound you had ever heard. “You’d never guess what happened.”

You hummed in response, urging him to continue with what he was saying. At the time of the phone call, you had been busy typing away at a report you needed to turn in for work. The phone was nestled between your chin and your shoulder as you multitasked. While you wanted to be completely and intently paying attention to his words as he rambled, they were almost background noise to your activity. He sounded so excited, you wished him to always sound that happy.

“I think,” he paused after finishing his monologue, “I think I found the one.”

The phone fell to the ground, the screen shattering along with your heart.

Song after song played, and you patiently sat, watching as everyone around you smiled and bustled about the dance floor. You barely touched the dessert as it made its way to your table despite it being one of the best pieces of cake you had ever laid your eyes upon. Just looking at it, though, brought butterflies to your stomach and a sinking feeling in your chest. This was the cake that symbolizes love between two people: a love you weren’t a part of.

The only thing you willingly touched throughout the night was the counter of the bar with unlimited drinks. Each alcoholic beverage gracing your throat allowed for a more peaceful surrender to the idea of Tom belonging to someone else. Of course, how could you even be upset? You never told him about your feelings.

How could you tell him anything about how you feel when he was so happy about finding a woman who saw him as the center of her universe? So while they dated, you sat back, listening to every worry and every happiness Tom experienced with someone who wasn’t you.

A perfect friend.

“I just don’t understand why she has to be so mad, Y/N,” Tom’s voice was raised, but he was far from yelling. No, he wasn’t the type of man to yell. It wasn’t his style.

You sighed as you watched the tall gentleman pace back and forth in your living room. A glass of wine was in your hand. When Tom had knocked frantically at your door, you thought he was there to tell you they had broken up; the fact that you almost wanted him to say that they did made you feel disgusting. You didn’t deserve to be his friend with such wishes floating around your mind. So, when he told you that it was an argument that sent him storming to your house, you filled your glass up mercilessly and drank until it took effect. Making your way to the kitchen, you grabbed an extra glass to pour wine for the distraught man.

“Tom, maybe next time you just shouldn’t tell her that you LET her win at Mario Kart.”

You followed his every movement, watching as he shook his blazer down his shoulder and draped it over the back of his chair. You felt every crack in your heart deepen as the newlyweds smiled at each other, dancing to their hearts’ content, and suddenly, you realized how misplaced you were. Ever since the day these two had met, there was no longer space in Tom’s heart for you.

Tom’s knee bounced up and down as you approached him. His fingers were tapping away at his thighs, a sure sign that he was anything but calm at the moment. When he caught sight of you making your way towards him, his eyes lit up and his face was adorned with a gorgeous smile. He quickly pulled you into a hug and thanked you for coming to meet him on your day off.

“Of course,” you said, “Anything for my favorite Brit.”

You accompanied Tom to lunch before he pulled you into a jewelry shop, asking what you thought was the prettiest ring in the store. “A ring fit for a queen,” he had said. A ring for another woman. An engagement ring. A few plastered smiles later and you could feel an impending darkness taking control of your mind.

When the two of you left, Tom thanked you again and offered to drive you home. You tried to decline, but your friend wouldn’t take no for an answer. So, he drove you home, and when you reached the entrance to your apartment complex, Tom’s hand found your wrist. You were so enchanted by the feeling of his skin on yours, you hadn’t noticed the dainty diamond bracelet he had latched onto your wrist like a handcuff forever tying you to him. A death sentence.

“Thanks for everything, Y/N.”

The smile on Tom’s face as he approached you brought you back into the present, reminding you that these moments were only things of the past. His smile faded as he spotted the red tint in your cheeks, showing that you had already downed one too many drinks. You smiled at him, eyes questioning why he was in front of you.

“You haven’t danced at all,” he stated as a fact.

Tom was concerned, of course he was. It was his wedding day and you were downing drinks like an alcoholic with nothing better to do. Throughout your trip down memory lane, Tom had watched you drown your sorrows, and every time he saw that you were not in your seat, his heart plummeted to the ground. He wanted you to have fun; he wanted you to enjoy yourself.

“I don’t have a date to dance with,” you shrugged it off, not wanting to say that you couldn’t bear the thought of dancing with anyone besides him. All those late nights of dancing your living room to anything from Classical music to Rock’n’Roll would immediately be tossed aside if you found a new dance partner. You couldn’t say that being on the same dance floor as the newly married couple tore you to shreds.

Tom laughed loudly, a sound that was better than any song played by the DJ. The sound of the melodic tune caused your heart to skip beats before it stopped altogether. That sound didn’t belong to you; it belonged to her. All of him: his smile, his laugh, his stories, and his memorable moments to come, they all belonged to the woman who had taken his last name like it was what she was destined to do.

The beautiful man in front of you held his hand out for you to take, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I can fix that.”

Hesitantly, you let him drag you onto the dance floor. Your steps were shaky as every drink you had impacted your balance. To everyone around, you probably looked like the typical wedding drunkard that didn’t know where to draw the line between fun and pitiful. Tom left you by yourself for all of ten seconds, leaving to speak to the DJ momentarily before returning to your side.

The soft strum of a guitar filled the room, the opening to James Blunt’s “You’re Beautiful” beginning to play. For a second, you wondered why such a sad song was playing; in fact, you even asked Tom why he had requested a song that was more about heartbreak than anything else. Taking your hand in his while wrapping his free arm around your waist, he began to sway to the melody, leaving your question unanswered momentarily.

“Didn’t you say you liked this song?” He whispered, lips right above your ear. The sensation of his warm breath caused shivers to roll steadily down your spine. It was that very moment that you smiled. If Tom had seen it, he would have mentally cheered at getting you to show a sign of happiness for the first and only time that night.

As the song continued, you closed your eyes, wishing for sobriety to hit you like a crashing wave. The alcohol running through your veins could potentially alter this memory, and just the thought of not remembering such a peaceful moment set fire to your mind. This feeling, this moment, this man was something you couldn’t dare let go of; yet, everything Tom was doing was in order for you to do just that.

“Let go,” his actions seemed to whisper into the melody, entwining with each beat of the song. The words kissed your broken heart, setting fire to your emotions like a wildfire with no beginning and no end. When had you fallen in love with this man? When did you realize that you were in too deep? When would these feelings go away?

As the song’s ending interlude began to play, you exhaled a breath you had been holding for far too long - a breath that had taken years to let out.

“But it’s time to face the truth,

I will never be with you.”

The ending of the song hummed throughout the room as the couples who had slow-danced to it began to disperse. As every emotion you had ever felt coursed through your body, you took a step back from Tom. Your eyes were glossed over with impending tears as you whispered a secret you should have never kept, “I love you, Tom.”

Your words stung at Tom for two reasons. The first reason was one that even you knew: he couldn’t reciprocate your feelings. The second reason was a secret that Tom also should not have kept: he knew. Oh, did he know.

After all these years, he had come to understand you as both a friend and as a person. He began to realize your feelings long ago, and part of him hated that you felt that way. He hated it not because he hated you, but because he didn’t want you to hurt because of him. Tom wanted to go to you with his worries without the sinking feeling that he was taking advantage of the kindness you had towards him due to your feelings. So, when you spoke the words he had dreaded to hear, he could only do one thing.

He smiled sadly.

It was a look you never wanted to see, but you knew you had to see it. The saddest smile graced his near perfect features, and whatever was left of the fire within you burned out, leaving ashes in its wake. The damage was done, and it had left nothing to hold on to, nothing left to burn.

Tom’s lips brushed your forehead, planting a gentle kiss to it. The sensation was one you would never forget. His words were quiet as he spoke, “I love you, too, Y/N.”

Oh, how you had wished he had never said it.

A hand landed on Tom’s shoulder, turning him to look at a young bridesmaid with an all too happy smile on her face. She was oblivious to the interaction between the two of you and even more oblivious that she had interrupted. The small brunette giddily grabbed your hand, dragging you along with her as she informed you of the bouquet toss that was about to take place. Tom passed by your retreating figure, a smile on his face as he approached his bride.

You stood to the back of the crowd, not sure if you were allowed to not participate when you had so easily been dragged over. Everyone around you was chatting, smiles gleaming as the bride turned her back and began readying herself to throw the arrangement. As it flew through the air, you wondered how much money she was throwing into the air and if people really do get married after catching a bunch of flowers. The questions raced through your mind, and without trying, you felt something soft hit your chest. Laughter erupted around the room as you eyed the bouquet that had fallen into your arms. You felt the hands pat your back as people you didn’t know congratulated you on your success.

“No,” you thought, “I don’t want this.”

The bride herself was the next person to congratulate you. She had a grin on her face as she took your hands and the bouquet in her own, shaking them in a manner that seemed like you had just won the lottery. Next, she pulled you into a hug that you most certainly could not reject. Still in shock, you let the woman speak as she squeezed the air from your lungs.

“You must invite me to the wedding,” she insisted.

Her words left you scarred as she pulled away. She meant no harm. You knew that, but the words stung. It stung even more as you watched Tom’s hand - the hand that had just been holding you minutes prior - being taken into the bride’s as she dragged him away for another dance.

Tom’s eyes searched yours for a brief second as he was getting dragged away, and you reluctantly waved, the fakest of smiles on your face. Obviously, Tom saw right through it, but he couldn’t do anything about it, not when he was the reason for your pain.

You spun on your heel, making a beeline for your table to grab your things. The music was once again blaring as you walked towards Tom’s mother who was sitting with some of his other relatives. She spotted you walking towards her, a gentle smile on her face as you pulled her into a farewell hug.

“Are you leaving already, darling?” His mother asked, worry now present on her face.

“Unfortunately, yes, I’m not feeling too well.” Your excuse made you shudder; you hated lying. You especially hated lying to one of the most wonderful women you had ever met. “Please send my regards to the newlyweds, I’d hate to interrupt their festivities.”

Tom’s mother nodded, saying one last farewell as you made your way to the door. Each step was a jab in the heart, and when you had reached the outdoors, the tears truly began to spill. Your hand covered your mouth, attempting to silence the heart wrenching sobs that would not stop coming. Fumbling for your phone, you briskly walked towards the corner, already summoning a car to pick you up.

“Y/N,” a voice called out to you.

You turned to see Tom running towards you at full speed. When his eyes found yours, he opened his mouth to speak. No words came out; he had nothing to say. There was nothing in this world that he could say that would heal the hurt you were going through, and there was no apology he needed to give because he had done nothing wrong. So, he did the best he could.

His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled your body towards his. His hand stroked your hair as you cried, his own tears threatening to spill over. A few moments later, your cries died down and Tom hesitantly let go. He brushed the tears from beneath your eyes as he furrowed his brows in concentration, searching for the hurt you had been hiding all these years.

The car pulled up as you smiled gently at the man you loved but would never have, and you took the first step towards letting go, “Goodbye, Tom.”

If you had been in Tom’s mind, you would have seen the rush he felt. You would have seen the sadness that overtook him as his chest tightened from your words. This was a farewell that the both of you needed - a farewell that would be hard to accept. He didn’t get to respond; you had already gotten into the car, and as the driver led you farther away from him, you decided to breathe your first breath of fresh air in years.

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he whispered into the air, knowing that one day he wouldn’t hurt you anymore, and when that time came, he’d welcome you back with open arms.

Until then, Tom would wait for his friend to return. He would wait an eternity for you.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston imagines #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston sad imagine #ohdearhiddles imagines #ohdearhiddles imagine #hiddleston imagine #sad imagine #drabbles

235 notes · View notes

lemonadesoda · 3 years

Note

5 8 19 for Lemel and Tevane (jackdaw)

5. How affectionate are they? What are their top love languages?

Lemel: when they consider you a friend? Very. They will lean on pretty much anyone they like. Being in exile was rough for someone like them who liked being around people and had a strong social network. Very touch starved by the time we see them tbh. I decided against describing the standard love languages. I will try to be more specific. I've discussed it before, but love for them is built around understanding the other person without them having to explain everything. This can manifest as pretty much any of the classic love language behaviors, but for them it's mostly about adapting their behavior to be in tune with the other person's needs in the moment. A couple examples for how they express care toward Tevane: being aware of situations they know are stressful to him and preempting or easing them, paying attention to things he likes and making/doing/gifting them.

Tevane: maybe this will surprise you, also very, but way more situational than Lemel. Largely touch-starved as well except for him it was most of his life, so has not really been able to express this much and will NOT be the one to initiate ever, but once he is able to give and receive affection regularly, he's like Italicized Oh. Love language, as also described before, Taking Care of Details. Examples of care toward Lemel: making sure they eat their three square meals, learning how to anticipate things they need in advance and having them ready.

8. What will always make them smile? What will always make them cry?

Lemel: Smile, having a meal/drinks and conversation with a group of people they love. Cry? It's kinda hard to say what would always make them cry since they don't really cry much, but I guess coming close to or actually losing someone they love? I mean...that would make most people cry...Oh I guess also feeling like they broke the trust of someone they care about/someone they care about doesn't trust them.

Tevane: Smile? Not to be cheesy as hell but whenever Lemel laughs hysterically at something, it's infectious. Like Lemel, also doesn't cry much. However. If he did anything that made him feel like he'd regressed back to the person he's been in the past (despite it not being intentional), he would freak out.

19. What do they wish they knew more about?

Lemel: What was the living Altimera really like before the Shattering? They have folklore and footage and all manner of documentation. They know that's not the same as living on it. Especially after they come to Earth and seeing how alive it is, they wonder, did Altimera brim with consciousness and soul the same way?

Tevane: Time theory. He knows a decent amount because of his work but he's not a scientist so hasn't had the time (hah) to study the actual theory very in depth, but he finds it really interesting actually.

#ah the questions where i talk about the Mushy Crap #lemel #tevane #asks #anonymous #abstractbabble

4 notes · View notes

cherryonigiri · 4 years

Photo

the retrospective: alice’s 1k special || lover masterlist

matchup requests: CLOSED

@neonghxst asked: alice, congrats on 1k again!! for the matchups: my mbti is infj-t & I'm a Slytherin. 5 words to describe me would be easy-going, creative, empathetic, driven, & dry-humored. I love writing, rock climbing, running, stargazing, getting tattoos, and art journaling! my go to outfit would be cuffed black girlfriend jeans + black turtleneck + mustard yellow cardigan + doc marten sandals. my favorite beverage is coffee! literally any kind haha but iced is preferred. have a wonderful day bb 💜

A/N: EL!!!!! ILYSM and thank u for all the wonderful things you send to my inbox. Heheheh 💜💜💜💜i’m excited to write this 😉p.s. It’s not italicized Iwa

Your matchup is: Sawamura Daichi

How you met: hmmm I feel like Daichi is the kind of guy to try new things in college and I feel like he would end up joining the outdoor/outing club that does regular hikes. Or maybe he gets into rock climbing. Either way you would bond over your love of the outdoors and meet through clubs/athletics! You two get to know each other pretty well and start hanging out together outside of club activities. He’s definitely a bit obvious once he realizes he’s interested in you but other than that.

Your first date: Definitely a classic kind of guy - probably asks you out for dinner at some local restaurant. Is very punctual and shows up exactly at 7 PM at your door. He’s a bit dressed up and definitely nervous, but your easy-going demeanor instantly puts him at ease. After he’s shaken off his initial first-date jitters, he’ll definitely be excellent company. He asks you a lot about what you’re studying + your tattoos (if you’re comfortable with that). He loves that there is so much meaning behind each piece of art that is inked on your skin.

Your first kiss: happens during one of your movie nights. You’re over at his place, cuddling on the couch with a blanket throne over your laps. He’s laying across the couch and you’re pretty much laying on top of him. Daichi is entranced with your tattoos and is slowly tracing the intricate designs on your shoulder when you shift around. Worried that he might be bothering you he looks up at you and oh shit he did not realize your face was that close. Probably gapes at you for a hot second while gathering his courage before he leans in to eagerly kiss you. It’s awkward at first, definitely not the most skilled kisser but slowly you two figure things out bc now that it’s happened he literally cannot stop kissing you.

Anniversary: Surprises you at work! He shows up in a nice outfit (yo imagine Daichi in a black button up with the sleeves rolled up those forearms 👀) with a bouquet of flowers just for you! He definitely went behind your back and reserved seats at this nice restaurant that he spent the last couple of weeks saving up for! Definitely goes above and beyond to act like the perfect gentleman - holds open doors, pulls out your chair for you - his goal is to pamper you for the night. Also takes the time to buy a gift that you’ll be able to use regularly - for some reason I feel like Daichi would be really great at gift-wrapping lol. He might get you a new art journal or some nice pens/markers, or a nice pair of climbing shoes/harness (if you need one!) Likes the idea that you’ll have a reminder of him nearby.

How they propose: Would propose when you were back home with him visiting his parents. Idk how but he enlists the help of the old Karasuno volleyball team (for some reason Hinata is very adept with party decorations) to help plan things out. He asks you to come with him on a walk and he shows you all his favorite spots like Ukai’s corner store and where he used to hang out with Suga or the playground near his home. Ends the tour at the Karasuno gymnasium bc that is basically his second home. When you walk inside you see all the candles and fairy lights the rest of the team (Takeda gave them the key, he is the real goat here) set up, along with rose petals scattered along the floor. Daichi gets on one knee and starts reciting this beautiful speech - he definitely chokes up a bit while asking you to marry him - yeah the night ends with you two hugging and happy crying in each other’s arms.

What your wedding looks like: Definitely a big wedding. I feel like he just wants to share this joyous moment with everyone in his life. Definitely going to get married in Miyagi/in his hometown. He’ll ask if his younger siblings can be part of the wedding party! Definitely an outdoor summer wedding. I think the toasts are the best part of the reception because you can definitely tell what a trustworthy and dependable upperclassman Daichi was for the team + how much he means to everyone at home.

Newlywed/domestic hc: You two take turns with meals - since he has early shifts at the climbing gym he works at he’ll often wake up early and make breakfast so that when you wake up there’s a nice meal laid out on the dining table waiting for you. Probably also leaves a cute love note/post-it next to your utensils. You usually get home before he does so you cook dinner for the two of you. Sometimes he has to come home late because of his job, but Daichi always makes sure to be back home before you go to bed.

#haikyuu matchups #haikyuu x reader #daichi x reader #sawamura daichi x reader #sawamura daichi #daichi sawamura x reader #daichi sawamura #karasuno #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu #the retrospective #alice's 1k special

26 notes · View notes

bleachintothemultiverse · 4 years

Text

THE MEGA RP PLOTTING SHEET / MEME. First and foremost, recall that no one is perfect, we all have witnessed some plotting once which did not went too well, be it because of us or our partner. So here have this, which may help for future plotting. It’s a lot! Yes, but perhaps give your partners some insight? Anyway BOLD what fully applies, italicize if only somewhat Mun Name: Phoenix (Pho) (can also be called blaze-bc of my discord username. though i use that name for a oc) Age: 17 (18 in august) Contact: Discord, ims

Character(s) I rp: Aizen,grimmjow, Uryuu, renji, Byakuya, Kusaka, Hanataro Which muse(s) inspires you the most atm?(for MM): Aizen, Grimmjow, Byakuya and Uryuu Current Fandom(s): Bleach, fullmetal alchemist, Yugioh Fandom(s) you have an AU for: Fullmetal alchemist : Brother hood, Yugioh My language(s): English, spanish //Kinda- im learning it// Themes I’m interested in for rp: Fantasy / Science fiction / Horror / Western / Romance / Thriller / Mystery / Dystopia / Adventure / Modern / Erotic / Crime / Mythology / Classic / History / Renaissance / Medieval / Ancient / War / Family / Politics / Religion / School / Adulthood / Childhood / Apocalyptic / Gods / Sport / Music / Science / Fights / Angst / Smut / Drama / etc. Themes/Genres you have an AU for: Modern.

Preferred Thread length: one-liner / 1 para / 2 para / 3+ / novella. Asks can be send by: Mutuals / Non-Mutuals / Personals / Anons. Can Asks be continued?: YES / NO only by Mutuals?: YES / NO. Preferred thread type: crack / casual nothing too deep / serious / deep as heck. Is realism / research important for you in certain themes?: YES / NO. Are you atm open for new plots?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. Do you handle your draft / ask - count well?: YES / NO / SOMEWHAT. How long do you usually take to reply?: 24h / 1 week / 2 weeks / 3+ / months / years. I’m okay with interacting: original characters / a relative of my character (an oc) / duplicates / my fandom / crossovers / multi-muses / self-inserts / people with no AU verse for my fandom / canon-divergent portrayals / au-versions (as main or only verse). Do you post more ic or ooc?: IC / OOC. Are you selective with following others?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

Best ways to approach you for rp/plotting: message me either on ims or discord. ^^ I am open up to any idea that you may have What expectations do you hold towards your plotting partner: Uh knowing what muse they want to interact ahead of time. Normally I can create a plot if they already know what Muse they want to rp with. How do you usually plot with others, do you give input or leave most work towards your partner?: I say it kinda 50/50 I tried to build the plot equally with the rp partner.

When a partner drops the thread, do you wish to know?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. - And why?: I know some things happen- so its okay if you don’t want to tell me if you are- I normally figure it out after weeks of not responding. (Unless you are a low activity blog- then i figure you are just busy ^^) - Will you tell your partner?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

Is communication in the rpc important to you? YES / NO. - And why?: Because communication is important, especially for plots we are winging mostly. and if they have any questions about how i portray a certain character. - Are you okay with absolute honesty, even if it may means hearing something negative about you and/or portrayal?: I wanna say Yes. It really depends- If its about me. I want to know why you say that especially if you don’t know me well and we could possibly clear up a misunderstanding or something. But if it for a character Yea sure. As long as it done explaining what they don’t like on it or if there is something I could improve. - Do you think you can handle such situation in a mature way? YES / NO.

Why do you rp again, is there a goal?: to explore my muses and expand on the more complex ones. (Like Aizen for example) Wishlist, be it plots or scenarios: TYBW stuff. more Pendulum arc stuff for Aizen. Muken Aizen related things. What Type of Starters do you prefer / dislike, can’t work with?: I can work with basically any type of starters? As long as it has a clear way to make interaction happen.

What type of characters catch your interest the most?: Characters i’m familiar with. Characters that is well done (Especially Oc’s). What type of characters catch your interest the least?: Characters that seem way to Mary or gary sue. (More Oc related things). Characters who are just- evil because they can be.

What are your strong aspects as rp partner?: willing to learn about different fandoms. Open to literally anything. gets invested in ships easily. What are your weak aspects as rp partner?: Being to anxious to communicate. Forgetfulness. Loosing track of threads (Because threadtracker hates me-) Do you rp smut?: YES / NO. Do you prefer to go into detail?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. Are you okay with black curtain?: YES / NO. - When do you rp smut? More out of fun or character development?: I don’t rp smut. - Anything you would not want to rp there?: N/A Are ships important to you?: YES / NO.

Would you say your blog is ship-focused?: YES / NO

.Do you use read more?: YES / NO / SOMETIMES.

Are you: Multi-Ship / Single-Ship / Dual-Ship — Multiverse / Singleverse.

- What do you love to explore the most in your ships?: Relationship building. Having moments that can be expanded on between the characters. Having relationship conflict. Even know i don’t rp smut- There is so much that can explored with ships that is more then just sex related things.

- What is your smut tag?: N/A

Are you okay with pre-established relationships?: YES / NO. - And what kind of ones?: Familial, Friendship.

► SECTION ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

//you said to pick my favorite muse- so here we go xD// - What could possibly make your Muse interesting towards others, why should they rp with this particular character of yours now, what possible plots do they offer?: Oh jeez- he is the main villian of the series. One of the most unpredictable muses that I have. Possible plots- depends on the time line. If its in the pendulum era. Literally anything can happen. There is a large gap of time (9 years) of things that could of happen but the anime or manga didn’t show. The same goes with his Captain era. We don’t really see much then or anything relating to his time in Muken. There is a lot of different situations that could happen with the right other muse.

- With what type of Muses do you usually struggle to rp with?: muses who are hopelessely romantics. muses who don’t have much to work with in a plot. - With what type of Muses do they usually work well with?: muses who has similar mind set as him or could be as unpredictable. . Characters that could possibly catch him off guard or catch his interest because of the way they act.

- What interests your Muse(s) in general: evolution, Science related things. hollowification experimenting. becoming a god. - What do they desire, is their goal?: Their goal . It depends most verses its to gain access to the royal realm and become the one true god, and change the soul society. - What catches their interest first when meeting someone new?: The way that they handle them selves, there intentional personally. - What do they value in a person?: Loyalty. Hard working. - What themes do they like talking about?: he likes when people talk about themselves. He can learn more about them. But he also likes talking philsophical debates about existence and morals. Or anything that would relate to his mindset about life. - Which themes bore them?: anything to romantic. He does not like that. like full on fliriting. He doesn’t do at all.

- Did they ever went through something traumatic?: Yes //though it can be debated what is consider traumatic to a adult who causes there own trauma mostly// //But like- he had to have seen some stuff in his childhood that would make him more desensitize to murder and killing fellow Shinigami// - What could possibly trigger them?: Experiencing the feeling of dying. Sensory deprivation. //after his 20,000 years in Muken. Which is underground. away from most sounds and sights and feeling// - What could set them off, enrage them?: Making him question his motives. Making him actually feel something. making him loose his goals.

- Is there someone /-thing they hate?: Urahara, Shinji. - Is there someone /-thing they love?: //Romantically- in most verses no// Platonically : Hiyori (only in pendulum arc). Hougyoku. his self.

Is your Muse easy to approach?: YES / NO. - Best ways to approach them?: catch their attention. Literally just talk to him. don’t go trying to challenge or question his ego. Literally just talk to him with any amount of respect . depending on the verse- his responses may very. but other then that- He is rather easy to approach depending on your intentions to be approaching him. - Where are they usually to find?: His office in division five, hueco mondo, (Specifically in Los Noches), Muken. The forest near rukongai (only really applies to pendulum verse).

Something you may still want to point out about your muse?: he is nerd with a god complex. he deserves a more flesh out back story then what the Manga gave him. I try to keep him as close to the manga, keeping all of the things that happen in the manga and anime as canon. Only changing his child hood and early divisions days- as that isn’t really shown and expanding his relationships with some of the visoreds. I also portray him as Aro/ace in most verses so its very Awkward if you try to ship with him in most verses unless discussed in ims or discord. tagged by @skyvar //thank you for the tag snow uwu// tagging @rukia-kuchiki-divided @redeyeschaosdragon @kaibacorpbros (any bro) @viciousvizard @hirako5hinji @bookofaion @gentleshinigami @goofyshinigami @windstormwielding @cxb3r @nightbeat-cat @world-duelists / @loyal-to-chaos (if you want ^^) and you! if you want to do this uwu.

#dash games #about mun #about muse #//wow this was a long one :D but i had fun uwu//#Long post

9 notes · View notes

wowweeharrystyles · 5 years

Text

mixtapes & memories

Love Is A Mixtape by Rob Sheffield definitely had its impact on me & inspired me to write this piece. This is one of my favourite playlists, so I decided to write around it.

Harry x Y/N | 5.2K words

(Italicized bits are flashback memories)

Here’s a link to the playlist, too !!! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1kPsDksn0oQcF9uOLIioUH?si=nGKLi3FBREyrcR5iAc9UbQ

It’s nights like these you look back on. Nights like these that you’ll remember forever. Nights like these are the ones you hope everyone you love gets to experience with the one they love.

Dreams - Fleetwood Mac

A giggle bubbles in your throat as Harry presses a kiss to the soft skin under your ear. Harry nonchalantly pulls away as if he wasn’t intending on making a mark on your skin when he sees his car being pulled up by the valet. His arm leaves your waist as he pulls out a few bills to hand to the valet. Verbally thanking the young man, you walk towards the car and see Harry now waiting with the passenger door open for you. Shining him a bright smile you step down into the low riding Ford Capri. Before closing your door Harry helps you move some of the fabric of your skirt into your seat with you as to not close it in the door. He shakes his head with a smile before walking round to get into the driver's side.

“What’re you shaking your head for?” you ask through a chuckle.

“Just look beautiful tonight, sometimes can’t believe I get to spend my time with you,” he says as he shuts the door and shifts into drive.

You groan his name in faked annoyance. You really don’t have anything coherent to respond with but he knows the feelings go both ways.

There’s a moment of silence while the cd that is in the stereo changes to the next song. You both still quite like the idea of mix tapes and prefer the sound of the 1970 stereo, (only having updated it by adding a CD player rather than an aux cord). Your favourite mixtape being the one in the player now. There’s a wide selection on this disk and in your handwriting, the title “feels like home” is scribble in sharpie on the top of the silvery-gold CD.

There’s a wide variety of songs on this CD, some of your favourites, some of Harry’s, songs that you grew up listening to, it’s got it all. As you 2 got to know each other in the beginning you both discovered that music played a big part in how you were raised and grew up.

Just about every single Saturday growing up, you were woken up by your parents blasting their music collection throughout the house. Dad would play Phil Collins or Fleetwood Mac and Mom would blast Paul Simon, Michael Jackson or Donny Osmonds and once in a while Shania Twain’s Greatest Hits. On the morning of your oldest sisters wedding she played “Going To The Chapel” at full volume, on repeat, to wake everyone up.

Every Saturday, without a doubt, she would go one by one into everyone’s room and dance around and sing to whatever was playing downstairs. It wasn’t always your favourite way to be woken up but looking back on it, you miss it from time to time.

Sometimes Harry will try to recreate these Saturday mornings - with a fresh cup of coffee in hand - dancing around in his boxers, his latest favourite blasting through the apartment. It only makes his regal flat feel more like home and makes up for the time apart.

Harry’s mother, Anne, had raised Harry with similar music taste. The 2 of you liked to compare first experiences with Fleetwood Mac and stories passed down by both of your parents. Your dad repeatedly recalls taking his baby blue Ford van down to Florida for spring break the year Rumours was released, blasting the album on the hot, packed beaches throughout the coast of Florida. Harry recalls Anne singing along to Landslide and Dreams as they drove around Cheshire. Dreams was the first song he learned all the words to.

The opening drums of ‘Dreams’ vibrates through the speakers of the car as Harry starts to drive away. He starts to sing along right away. You know he doesn’t realise that he always does this and it makes you smile everytime you hear his smooth voice

I’ll Be There For You - The Rembrandts

Neither of you can bare to miss the claps at the beginning so when Harry can’t get his hands off the wheel to clap along, you restart the track. Both of you break out in a fit of laughter at the ridiculous habit and continue singing as loud as you can, dance moves included (at least what you could manage while buckled into your seats). Harry’s signature “rain starts to fall” hands always make you roll your eyes before tossing your head back and laugh even more while still trying to sing along.

Honestly, neither of you have been able to keep track of how many times you’ve rewatched F.R.I.E.N.D.S. on your own, nonetheless together. (It’s a lot and you’ll both just leave it at that.) Harry had suggested that you 2 should start watching it from the beginning together when you two ordered takeout one night in the first month of knowing each other. That night repeated over and over again, neither of you caring to go out on fancy dates so much, only wanting to spend time together.

You had just finished season 6 the night before Harry had to jet off to Japan or New York or Italy (honestly, you can barely keep track). While facetiming one night while he was gone you caught a glimpse of his tv screen in his hotel room.

“Harry?” you questioned.

“Yes, love?”

“Are you watching FRIENDS without me?”

“Uhhh…” he stutters out, looking back at the TV that was playing without sound. “I can explain!” he rushed out. You faked an annoyed look (even though you were actually kind of annoyed by it). “Listen, babe, love, sweetheart, I was bored and missing you… I thought i’d just watch one episode…”

“One?!?! Looks like you’ve definitely watched more than one!”

“I’m sorry, love!”

“Fine, well that means I have to catch up, then. What episode are you on?”

“Uhm, I think episode 4,” he whispers.

“4?!?! Harry!!”

“I’m so sorry!!! Like I said, I was bored and missed you. Always reminds me of you.”

“Oh come on, be a normal boy and have a wank if you miss me.”

He shouts your name in surprise. “Oh my god.” His cheeks start to turn a light pink shade.

“Oh, stop blushing. You’re acting like a child. Be a man, have a wank or call me, don’t watch FRIENDS.”

After a short moment of silence you both meet eyes and burst into a fit of laughter.

That specific conversation gets brought up every time Harry has to leave, a little inside joke. Between “I’ll Be There For You” and the next track Harry suggests that you 2 should start rewatching FRIENDS again.

“That’ll be like the 5th time,” you comment. “Think this time you’ll be able to make it through the entire show without watching an episode without me?”

“I can’t make any promises,” he confirms with a giggle.

Still Crazy After All These Years - Paul Simon

There’s a handful of Paul Simon on this mixtape. You have your mother to thank for that. After dinner each night your mom would put on a Paul Simon album while you did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen as a family. To this day you’ll opt for Paul Simon’s Greatest Hits while you clean yours and Harry’s home. He knows this music makes you feel like you’re back home with your family and can nick away at the homesick feeling you get once in a while. There’s something about the classics - “Still Crazy After All These Years”, “Diamonds on the Soles of Your Shoes” “Kodachrome” - that make your heart light and bring a smile to your face.

During one trying week, Harry had used the Greatest Hits Album to settle you down. Work had been awful, one thing after the other, day after day, nothing went right and you were at the end of your limits. To add to the that Harry had been traveling back and forth for the better part of 3 weeks. A text from your parents asking how you were and when you would be visiting next had been the last straw.

Harry came home mid day on a Saturday and on his way into the house he dropped his belongings in a trail from the front door to the bedroom. That morning, you had decided to try to turn your mood around, knowing Harry would be home soon, you went out to a yoga class and picked up groceries to make Harry’s favourite meal. When you got home after him, you proceeded to trip over each of his belongings on the way to the kitchen. You were cursing loud enough that it woke him up. He came downstairs in a pair of workout shorts and a messy head of hair.

“Baby!” He exclaims when he sees you putting away the food. When he tries to give you a hug and kiss you shrug him off.

“You left everything all over. I tripped on every single fucking bag on my way in. I get that your tired and traveling sucks but at least fucking put it all in one spot.”

“Woah, I’m sorry,” he says, taken aback. Nothing from their conversations earlier this week or even this morning had lead him onto the mood you’re in now.

“Don’t even,” you say with a bit of a bite to it.

“Hey, what’s going on?” He asks with equal bite. You whisper a ‘nothing’ and continue what you’re doing. “It’s not nothing if you’re this upset”

“Just leave me alone, Harry.”

“I haven’t seen you in days!!! I’m not just leaving you alone. I fucking missed you and I have no idea why you’re acting like this.”

“It’s not my fault that you haven’t seen me. I’ve been here this entire time. Not all of us get to jet off to be an international rockstar and do no wrong. I got ripped apart this week at work. Everything I did was wrong, I fucked up, you don’t know what that’s like.” you take a deep breath, tears building in your eyes. “and now my parents are nagging me about coming home to visit and I can’t take any more time off work cause I’ve used it all to come see you on tour.” When you wipe the tears from your eyes you see the look on Harry’s face and your heart drops into your stomach. You’ve never spoken to him like this and you never meant for anything to come out like this. “I’m sorry,” you yell even though you don’t mean to, “I just miss home and I’ve been so lonely without you here and I don’t know, it all just came out.” He doesn’t respond and now you’re embarrassed and beyond upset about all of it. You whisper an apology as you turn and leave the kitchen.

Everything hurt as you fell to the bed. You groan a little in annoyance when you immediately smell Harry’s cologne on the bed, fresher than it’s been in weeks. Tears fell to the pillow for what felt like ages. You didn’t know what you wanted to happen next. Did you want him to come find you and try to say something to make everything better somehow? Were you hoping you would muster up the courage to put yourself back together and go downstairs begging for him to forgive you? You really had no idea. It was a while later when you could start making out sounds from the 1st floor. It wasn’t until the music got louder that you paid more attention.

One room of speakers at a time (he can be such a cheeky fucker sometimes) the music eventually reached your bedroom where you were still laying face down on the bed. ‘Still Crazy After All These Years’ echoed through the entire house now. While wiping your face with a cool cloth as you realised what he was doing. You quietly made your way back down the stairs and peaked into the kitchen where Harry was busy cutting up some veggies on the large island. When you come into view, Harry puts down the knife and wipes his hands off on the cloth that is hanging off his shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I really didn’t mean what I said. It all came out wrong.”

“Shhhh,” Harry shushes you as he brings you in for a hug. “You’re right, I don’t know what it’s like at your job and I haven’t even bothered to ask.” He says after pulling back to look you in the eyes. “Being homesick doesn’t help when you’re stressed, either. And it really doesn’t help when I’m gone either.”

“I’m still sorry. I should’ve never said any of that. I yelled at you. You just got home. I’m so sorry.” Harry kisses your forehead. “I’m so sorry. I can’t even believe what I said.”

“Its okay, baby. I accept your apology. We’re good, okay?” You nod and he kisses your forehead again. “Thought some Paul Simon might calm you down.” you nod again, a small smile playing on your lips. “And I’ve looked at the calendar, no need to take work off, we’ll go back home to visit your parents in a few weeks. Leave Friday Night come back Monday morning. I wouldn’t mind some time away from work and the city either.”

Paul Smon continues to play and you give Harry a big hug, burying your head into his chest. You really can’t believe how you got so lucky. You spend the rest of the night making dinner together, dancing around and singing to the Greatest Hits Album that’s playing through the entire house. Later that night Harry brings a bottle of wine and 2 glasses to the living room where the 2 of you sit on the ground in a pile of blankets and pillows and you share every single detail of what happened at work.

When you’re back at your childhood home a few weeks later, you and Harry are in the kitchen with your parents, Paul Simon playing and cleaning up after dinner.

The start of the memory may not be the best you and Harry but it ends on a good one and there are plenty more that outshine it. Paul Simon can fix a lot you figure. Makes you feel like you’re home wherever you are.

Don’t Wait - Mapei

“Can we get fries and milkshakes?” you ask with a bright smile on your face, lashes fluttering in attempt to persuade him. You know he won’t say no, regardless. You both know that once one of you mentions fries and milkshakes that it’ll be a long night of driving around town, city lights casting the perfect backdrop.

About 8 months into your relationship you had called Harry randomly one night. You had just seen him hours ago at lunch but he had a night full of meetings about whatever project he was working on currently and you both knew it was going to be a long night so you had retired back to your place for the night. You were surprised when he answered, the background on his end also surprisingly quiet.

“I’m craving fries and a milkshake,” you had stated, receiving a chuckle from Harry on the other line.

“I’ll pick you up in 15 minutes.”

“What?” you said unbelieving.

“Just got home, getting out of this dang suit. I’ll be there in 15.” You were silent on your end. “You want fries and a milkshake, yeah?” you hum a yes. “Okay great. I’m in love with you and I want to see you. We’re getting fries and milkshakes.” You huff in disbelief. Even if you did have some sort of response you don’t know if you could get it out (still a common occurrence to this day).“Love, still there?”

“Uh yeah,” you say through an obvious smile.

“Great. Leaving now.”

When you get into Harry’s car he greets you with a kiss and then a toothy grin, dimples on full display. He looks cozy and relaxed in his threadbare tshirt and yellow adidas track pants, you can’t see his feet but you know, without a doubt, he’s wearing his white vans.

Once you’ve got your fries and milkshakes, one vanilla and one chocolate so you can share, Harry picks up his phone and presses play on a new song. You hadn’t heard the song before, but as it progresses it adds to your already light, happy mood. With the cool breeze flowing through your hair with the windows down as Harry takes you both on a drive you can’t help but lean over and place a quick kiss on his cheek. His eyes wrinkle on the outside corners.

“Fry?” he asks just like how he asks ‘kiss?’ time and time again. His voice is just loud enough to hear over the music, and you quickly oblige his request as if he were to reach for a fry himself his free hand that isn’t attached to the steering wheel would have to leave it’s warm, comforting spot on your thigh.

As Harry pulls away from the drive-thru, a bag of fresh fries in your lap and 2 milkshakes in the cupholders, you skip through a few tracks before you find “Don’t Wait” by Mapei. The intro of the track instantly makes Harry smile and he reaches to turn up the volume. When you turn to feed him a fry you giggle at the sight of his huge smile, gums on show and eyes crinkled at the side.

A friend indeed, come build me up

Come shed your light, it makes me shine

You get the message, don't you ever forget it

Let's laugh and cry until we die

If it wasn't for you I'd be alone

If it wasn't for you I'd be on my own

Some things never change.

Make You Feel My Love - Adele

You’re thankful for the frozen milkshake and you allow it to cool you down as the hot LA breeze blows through your hair. You still don’t know your way around LA very well but you recognize the direction Harry is taking. There’s a small lookout point on the hills where you know you’ll end up in the next 10 minutes.

Taking the milkshakes and bag a fries with you, you both step out of the car after Harry has parked in the perfect spot at said lookout point. You’re the only 2 out here, it’s probably passed midnight by now. He’s left the car on enough just to keep the mixtape playing.

“Sometimes I wish we could’ve grown up together,” you say out of the blue while flipping through your old yearbook. You’re trying to find an old group photo with your High School group of friends. With a friends wedding coming up you’re trying to find all the best photos for part of her gift.

“What makes you say that?” Harry asks from the couch above you. “We get to grow old together instead.”

“It’s just, looking through all these old photos, I can’t help but wonder what it would have been like to have experienced High School together. Imagine football games on Friday nights, or going to the christmas dance!” you exclaim. “Oh! I bet you would have been really creative with asking me to the Prom.” When you notice the confused look on his face you remember that 1. British schools were much different and 2. He didn’t do the whole high school experience regardless of the country. “Well I guess you don’t ever have those thoughts cause you never experienced those things in the first place.” You laugh to yourself. “I still wonder what it would have been like.”

“I think 17 year old me would have been scared shitless to ask you to prom, nonetheless to pick you up that night and have your dad answer the door.”

“Oh my dad loves you and you know that.”

“Hah, he didn’t right away! Imagine if he met me when I was a teenager! I would not be sitting here right now.”

“You’ve got a point, I guess.” You go back to flipping through the yearbook in front of you, once in a while showing Harry a photo.

“I’m gonna go grab a glass of water, need anything?” You shake your head no and thank him before he leaves the room.

When Harry comes back to the living room he’s without a glass of water but has gained a black suit jacket on top of his t shirt and sweatpants. You look at him, confused.

“Harry, what are you doing?” He doesn’t respond, instead you start to hear music playing through the speakers. Pulling his hand from behind his back he presents you a flower, a rose from the vase in your bedroom. You laugh, still confused, but accept the rose anyways.

“Would you dance with me?” He asks offering his hand to you. You take it and let him help you up off the floor.

Harry wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him and you slide your arms around his neck letting your hands dangle at the back.

“You’re unbelievable,” you say quietly.

“I know this isn’t anything like your Prom, but a slow dance is a slow dance yeah?” A small smile forms on your lips before you press them to his. You let your fingers play with the curls at his neck. Resting your head on his chest you let him control the dancing, swaying around in circles. He’s humming along to the song and there’s something about Adele that is so quintessentially high school. You close your eyes and let yourself pretend that you’re back in high school. When the song ends you lift your head up and thank him with another kiss.

Later that night you take back your earlier statement. It’s when you’re sitting at the dining table with a hot meal presented in front of you that Harry made himself that you realise that you would rather be here now how the 2 of you are instead of having grown up together. You agree that growing old together sounds like the best thing in the world.

“Doesn’t matter the time or place, I’ll love you always,” you say, “but I like this time, I like right now.”

When “Make You Feel My Love” starts to play, Harry sets down his shake and takes yours as well to set down with his on the hood of the car.

“Can I have this dance?” He asks. It’s almost like he planned the timing. You sway with each other for a moment before you’re both so wrapped up in each others arms and the kisses become deeper that the dancing stops and you just basque in the presence of each other and this moment. The cool wind continues to blow through your hair and it only gives the 2 of you an excuse to pull each other closer to one another. After the song ends and the mixtape continues, Harry wraps his arms around your shoulders, now having his front to your back, he pulls you back with him as he leans against the hood of the car. He rests his lips near your ear, placing kisses along your ear, jaw and neck as you both take in the view in front of you.

“I like right now,” he whispers your words back to you from months ago.

I Wanna Get Better - Bleachers

This song had a handful of memories linked to it. Hundreds upon hundreds are with your childhood best friend and one specific one with Harry. Right now, you’re both singing at the top of your lungs without worrying how either of you sound. You were both shivering a little after staying at the lookout for too long. Now you’re trying to warm up a bit and singing along at full volume seems to be helping.

Harry had come home to a silent house one night, eventually finding you puffy-eyed with tear streaked cheeks curled up on the couch in the dark. Noting your phone thrown across the room, he approached you cautiously.

“Love?” he almost whispered, not to startle you. “Love, what’s going on?” He questions when he meets your face. Sitting down on the floor in front of you he wipes your cheeks before questioning you again. “Gotta tell me what’s wrong so I can help ya.”

“Did you see the article?” you stutter out. You know he doesn’t go lurking around the internet so you can’t be angry about him being clueless to why you’re upset. He shakes his head eventually before he slowly grabs his phone.

The first article that comes up when he searches his name makes him curse under his breath. Someone’s hacked your private social media accounts and photos of you growing up, family information and anything and everything is all over the tabloid sites. You knew this was part of the territory, dating a musician, model, actor, all of it, but this was much worse than some papz photos with Harry out for coffee or post yoga.

Harry does his best to calm you down, holding you against his chest, apologizing up and down for putting you in situations like these. At some point a little while later, you’ve relaxed and decide make a joke in hopes to make yourself and Harry, a little bit better.

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty, otherwise it wouldn’t be worth it.” A look of fake offence washes over his face. “Love you,” you add before kissing him lightly.

“Come on,” Harry says pulling you up off the couch. He turns the house speakers on and presses play on his phone. “I Wanna Get Better” starts blasting through the house and you can’t help but smile. Your best friend and you would always blast this when one of you were having a bad day. It never fails to make you smile and forget whatever was bothering you. This song automatically forces a wide smile across your face and with how swollen your eyes are from crying, you can barely make out the image of Harry dancing around in front of you. The rule is you have to play the song on repeat until you can’t remember what had hurt you in the first place. It’s takes a few rounds of the track and a handful of kisses from Harry to get you to forget why he started playing the song.

“A little better?” he asks when the 4th play comes to an end. You nod with a smile before pulling him for a kiss.

“Much better.”

Though this song is always played during bad times, it’s nice to hear it during happy ones. It reminds you of times with your best friend from home and it reminds you of Harry’s kindness, how he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, make you feel loved and be 110% sure that you’re happy.

Fallingforyou - The 1975 and Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol

You slipped ‘Fallingforyou’ by The 1975 on shuffle when the 2 of you took your first road trip together. Driving from Harry’s place in LA to a getaway in San Francisco for a few days, you had opted to drive instead of fly (more time just the 2 of you). The conversation died down for a moment, both of you engulfed by the epic scenery in front of you. You had control of the music for the most part, Harry making requests once and awhile, but it had been forgotten while the two of you had debated which was the best romcom ever made for the better part of an hour. So when you both agreed that having different favourites was okay, the silence was welcomed, small smiles on both of your faces. That’s when a feeling of absolute contentment washed over you. You knew exactly what song was needed for the moment.

Your relationship wasn’t that new, but it wasn’t as official as it is now. You hadn’t said ‘I love you’ yet, but you both knew the thought was there (you hoped he’d say it sometime during this trip and if he didn’t you definitely would).

You always loved this song. You remember hearing it live for the 1st time when you saw The 1975 on a whim during your first year of university. You cried. You couldn’t really help it. Though you’ve never related to the lyrics exactly in the way they’re meant to, they still hit you. Right now, this relationship isn’t one sided, you know that but, I think I’m falling, I’m falling for you, hits you harder than it did when you heard it live.

Harry’s got his wrist resting on the top of the steering wheel, the other resting in his lap. His curls are a bit unruly from the wind that has been blowing through them, his skin has a soft tan to it. You can’t help the smile that crosses your face. Harry must see your smile from the corner of his vision because he takes a quick glance at you and returns the grin, crinkles appearing around his eyes. The hand that was resting in his lap searches yours out and you happily accept the gesture.

On this night, and in this light,

I think I’m falling, I’m falling for you.

Tangling your fingers with his, you bring them up to your mouth and press a soft kiss to the back of Harry’s hand. You hold his hand with both of yours in your lap now. The wind blows through your hair and you sing along to the words quietly and it’s not till the end of the song that you realise that Harry had been singing along as well.

It’s when Harry’s driving you back to your hotel after dinner that night in San Francisco, ‘Chasing Cars’ by Snow Patrol playing quietly in the background, that he says “I love you.”

‘Fallingforyou’ transitions into ‘Chasing Cars’ and Harry pats the open space between the 2 of you in the front seat. The traffic light in front of you turns red and you take the opportunity to slide from your side of the car to the side of Harry’s torso, his arm wrapping around your shoulder immediately. Rebuckling yourself into the middle seat, he presses a kiss to your hair and whispers “I love you” repeatedly until the light turns green.

~~~

As the speakers quiet, the track list coming to an end, Harry turns to you and locks eyes before speaking.

“Should we play it again?” He asks. Without missing a beat you press play on the stereo. Neither of you have any obligations in the morning. A late night of driving would most definitely turn into sleeping in the next morning, then spending the day reading in bed and watching silly romcoms. Driving all night sounded like the best plan in the world.

Landslide echoes through speakers and the empty roads around you, Harry’s voice quietly singing along. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of this mixtape.

Let me know what ya think !! feedback & comments are always welcome ! THANK YOU FOR READINGGGG <3

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry writing #harry styles one shot #harry blurb #harry styles blurb #writing #fanfic #harry styles fluff #Harry Drabble

132 notes · View notes

ayakashiramblings · 4 years

Text

WTFried Episode 3: KFC Otome Game

Bold: Gaku’s commentary Italics: Futaba’s commentary Normal: Official documentary narration (usually in a bad British accent) Bold and Italicized: Answers/Questions to the… game.

In 1910, the Capital, one man had a dream that he made another man work for. That dream would result in the exclusive Milk Hall. A chic cafe that would serve all manner of dairy-based treats… and making only one exception today. A day where we will reach deep into this bucket of…

Oh, Aoi! This logo is such a cute design!

How did you know it was by him?

Did… did you seriously think it was anybody else?

Point taken... Ms Futaba-rt…

Hush, Gaku. I’m just going to leave the drawing to the actual student.

Since everyone is craving for some turkey this winter, the employee has made the employer fetch some slices of this fine poultry. Everyone at Raccord is getting ready for the tender meat AND the festive season as we ring in the new year of 1911! Featuring buckets with the restaurant’s symbol… an old man!

And speaking of the devil, here he comes without… the turkey but some other manner of bird? Thus, Aoi has prepared to strike, dumping the bucket on the counter with a resounding thud.

“Erm… so remember how I said it was ok if I arrived at the turkey place slightly later than usual…?” A sheepish Oji's question can only be met by Aoi's deadpan conclusive remark,

“They ran out, didn’t they?”

Apparently, that was super insensitive because Oji-san has scrunched up his nose and eyes (the more normal ones) and…

Wait, how did you speak in parentheses?

"Nevermind that, somehow the narration was more offensive than Aoi's accusation." Oji’s fake-sniffling is thankfully interrupted by Aoi shaking the contents of the… replacement.

"I don't think it was harsh enough considering your blunder."

“No… it's just that the turkey place somehow became a chicken place! So the party pack is full of chicken!”

And just like that, the bells at the entrance have stopped ringing just as fast as the front door has been shut. And two hearts are now shattered into a million pieces. Why wouldn’t there be shattered souls after witnessing all hopes of savouring a Western classic slipping down the grease tracks of the fried chicken? The sound of the fat fizzing and splattering was supposed to be a welcomed one, not this… this… tinier bird. In particular, Ginnojo knows that he knows too much. See the look of imagining death and actually experiencing it? And Kuro! He’s pouting in slow motion, head down, shoulders slumped, and with an expression that clearly indicates he’s responding but barely able to because of the sheer despair consuming him… AKA, exactly like a puppy.

...Gaku, don’t zoom in on their faces. I’m already describing it, no need to rub it in.

Fine.

“Man, I’m sorry you two. I know you guys were looking forward to the turkey.”

“Old Man Oji, it’s ok! I’m just glad everyone is here to feast at least!”

Of course, the most ferocious growl has to refute that statement and it certainly has to come from an even more ferocious beast… Ginnojo’s disappointed stomach. Does he manage to hide the betrayal well with his stoic face though as the two neighbours/besties/??? eye the substitute meats?

Ok, really, there is no way you can tell me you spoke in question marks.

“I apologize too. Honestly, I should have checked beforehand.” Aoi concedes and offers a temporary white flag in the form of a kitchen towel to see the numerous chunks of fried chicken.

Could it be? The magic of fried chicken is soothing wounds of the past? Can the crispy chicken skin really fully resolve the dwindling festive spirit? Will it be just as great as its twin…

… Sorry Yura and Gaku.

“Be at rest, my Lady. I am sure a dollop of sugar or two is enough to fully restore the chicken to a turkey’s high status.”

I’m glad to see that the sugar dispenser I made is being put to such use, brother.

As Yura makes the sugar cookies even more… sugary, Aoi shakes his head,

“What now? We work with fried chicken? I’ve never really experimented with it before.”

“We… do need to finish this supply eventually. Might as well start now.” was all Oji can offer in this dire situation. Just as everyone is heaving a sigh, two majestic heroes arrive with…

A tengu as a sacrifice for the turkey my brother can never savour now. Crows are closer than chicken to turkey.

“Mhmm?”

“Nevermind, ignore him Kuya. Hiya Koga! Sorry you two, but we’ve only got fried chicken...”

And with that, Futaba witnesses the magnificent wingspan of the tengu… as he flies away at the mention of devouring a fellow bird. At least, he tried to but an oni ogre foils his meticulous plan by… grabbing his ear.

“Sorry about him. And even more sorry for Ginnojo and Kuro. I know you two were looking forward to the turkey.”

Nice job, Gaku! :D

What even is... you know what, nevermind. Thanks, I guess, and the mic’s back to you now.

“Really, don’t worry you guys. It’s more like Gin-Gin and I like the story surrounding the turkey in the festivals. The fried chicken just doesn’t have such an interesting story.”

The gramophone acts up at this precise moment Kuro tries to break the tension. As a wonderful person holds this strangely bulky camera while Gaku rushes to fix the audio camera, he finds that the cause is none other than his own customer… Oji-san with a record-breaking moment. Literally.

“Ok, wait, I’ve lived long enough to tell you that isn’t true. Why, I used to tell this story to Aoi when he was a little lad…”

And Oji-san whips out… a shopping list dated 5 years ago. Additionally, the crayon doodles are really adorable alongside the cursive handwriting.

“Yup, you told me a shopping list that I wrote down and YOU forgot.”

… Edit out my earlier statement.

… I’ll try.

“You know what? We have all this fried chicken for me and Aoi to do something AND tell you more about the tale of the fried chicken this time of year.”

And this folks, is what happened before we come up with the most amazing play…

Before we continue this documentary, we would like to thank our sponsors. Koga Kitamikado. This Oni Ogre is tough as nails and nothing ever gets him down! You can always turn to him when you're in a bind. A… tender bind.

… Why is Koga sponsoring this?

Guess he saw something… like how we are going to see two ayakashi experiencing the world’s greatest interactive play!

Tonight, Ginnojo and Kuro react to ‘I Love You, Colonel Sanders! A Finger-Lickin’ Good Dating Simulator!’. An interactive play scripted by Oji, you, yes you the audience, gets to play as a budding chef…

“Ooh, Gin-Gin is a good one… when you know, he doesn’t go bonkers on the ingredients.” Kuro’s chirp is nearly drowned out by the action at the back where we will be observing how our thespians are preparing.

Aoi and Oji have outdone themselves for this. We don’t have every single thing that you can purchase by queuing up but the menu prepared within 4 seconds is well-represented on this table. Sometimes, it is in a 3-piece meal, a few are in the buckets, and you get the overall picture! No double-dipping needed here, the act is too sacrilegious for such a holy beginning. A beginning… that will melt the frost around here.

Warm yourself from the inside. You’re about to embark on a journey that will end with you sleeping with this warm milk and pot pie….

Thus, these two can’t drink milk. Only eating the pot pie. We… we need them to actually play this.

“This is confusing, our journey begins with the ending?” Kuro asks a question that no one knows the answer to except for Ginnojo,

“Aye, a lot of the greatest heroes stumble upon their best stories after the ending of another. I suppose this is what we are trying to get here with… the pot pie?”

Scepticism is evident even on the usually trusting Kuro’s face. Nevertheless, they put their faith in Aoi’s culinary skills as they see the smoke still wafting from behind the stage curtains that are really just Kuya’s blankets.

AKA: Koga’s blankets.

Sure, the decor is a bit too… reminiscent of a chicken barn. And yet, observe the first bite taken by the Mizuki and the… other… ayakashi. Creaminess flooding each of their mouths as veggies and fried chicken come together in this glorious, crusted symphony. And at the very end of it all,

“Delicious.”

“Oh my gosh! It’s so good! The chicken, yum! More, please!”

As they chew contentedly amongst dozens of floating… chicken and biscuits… Yura approaches them with the most adorable signboard… and the weirdest customizable one at that. That’s right, we are featuring the talents of Yura and Aoi… for the second time in the latter's case.

“Welcometh, chef! Bef're we start, bid us thy nameth!”

Translation: Give us the coolest names you have Ginnojo and Kuro! Note: no explicit language or demeaning words are allowed.

“Oooh, let’s do a ship name, Gin-Gin!”

“I dislike ships. Especially the black ones. Why can’t humans just learn to be one with the waves?”

Thus, comes the most epic name ever.

Mammon!

“Like, Mama + Mon! Because, I dunno, it feels like a mum made this!”

“The Mon is an abbreviation of Monday, the day we are watching… I mean, playing this theatrical game.”

...

Should… should we tell them?

No.

With the dimming of lights and pot pie nearly finished, Kuro and Ginnojo move on to the chicken wings and munching sounds accompanied the sight of the protagonist… in bed. Since the protagonist is me. So…

I’m taking over the narration from this point onwards. Be grateful. And note… this is the game. So if it’s weird… do not blame me for it.

Oh hush, and get to your job.

Futaba is buried like one zinger in a tortilla wrap. Until the latest alarm clock that I have built with a custom ringtone goes off with the best sound in the world - that of a happy chicken. Sleep in or wake up? What should they choose?

“I’m concerned about the rooster.”

“Yes… but whelp, up and at’em is what I’d say!” was the only warning the poor alarm clock received before Kuro smacked the robot rooster with the goddamned whip of his, ruining hours and hours and hours of…

Don't be so offended, Gaku, it's just a game.

...

“Wow, I better get ready for my first day at the prestigious University of Cooking School: Academy for Learning!” Futaba says in a way-too-enthusiastic voice that is almost on Kuro’s level when he’s drunk.

“Ok, so I’m only familiar with Futaba and Aoi’s schools but I’m pretty sure no one would want that for a name. Oh! Let’s call it Cuddling Chicken School!”

Case in point because as I speak, Kuro and Ginnojo are now enjoying another treat with coke… that may or may not have been spiked. The main focus though is the box filled with delicious chicken and named after popcorn.

“This one’s the most processed. I don’t think I can take another bite. Oh, Kuro? You’ve finished yours?”

“... More like you finished yours and mine within a bite.”

For once, Ginnojo looked more innocent than Kuro was somewhat forlornly staring at his very, very empty container. At least now both could be more invested in the… plot of this play as our main character starts to get changed into a chef’s uniform, complete with an apron and a hat. All that is left to do is for her to actually move but she just has to ask,

“Hmm, I kinda want to daydream and laze about in bed.”

Of course, that’s challenging everything a former Shinsengumi member loves and knows so Ginnojo is quick to call my brother over to reject the option… except that Kuro is a bit more nonchalant about the whole affair.

“D’aww, let her, it’s so rare to see her relaxed.”

“I won’t deny that a girl her age shouldn’t be concerned with hard matters but Futaba wants to go to school. And I shall support her in her endeavours.”

“Except, this isn’t Futaba. She’s being Mammon remember?”

“Very well.”

And just like that, Ordinary Chef Student protagonist Futaba is late and doesn’t have time to sit and eat a full meal. She grabs a piece of biscuit, fluffy… unlike her missing deodorant.

“I knew she had a price to pay.” Ginnojo’s heavy sigh provoked a gasp of realization from his neighbour,

“Are we going to be fried?”

Alas, she was not…

HEY!

By the time she has thrown the biscuit at me, the setting has been changed to the ivory walls of UCS: AL… or the Cuddling Chicken School. And there, awaiting her is the ever-so-perky… BROTHER?!

He volunteered for the role!

Wow, I’m so proud of him! Wait, should I have auditioned… no, I’m just going to record every moment of this now.

Here comes the bestest friend in the world, Yura!

“Many thanks, brother, but I shall now don the name ‘Miriam’ and ask Mammon here if she is highly anticipating our term of 3 days!”

Ginnojo does have to voice out one concern that I am sure most viewers will have as well,

"Hold on, they can graduate in 3 days? Youth these days really are picking up new knowledge."

"I want a degree in English in 3 days. If I take the English food course in 3 days, will that count?"

Before Kuro can learn more about this miraculous development in education, Futaba has to continue with her dialogue and actually focus like my brother,

“Good morning Miriam! I'm sure…”

“Because I most certainly am! Alack, the breakfast I hadst did prepare this morn did not have enough love… whatever shall I do?”

As another branch of the game appears, the choice is rather evident…

COMFORT HIM YOU IDIOTS!

Finally, sense strikes the two, Kuro furiously slamming the option and poor Nachi as a result. Still, the nekomata behind the Option Board manages to signal to the other actors and Futaba barely adeptly gives my brother a pep talk,

“Ever since we were little babies together and you rescued me from that quicksand box, it’s been clear to me that you’re the most loving, caring person I’ve known! Your tiny… sweets are definitely going to be a hit!”

Part of the reason why this speech is not adequate enough is because Futaba is RUDELY interrupted when someone smacks her books and custom-engraved measuring spoons out of her hands and onto the ground.

“... Aeshleigh.” Futaba finally spat out, or whether it’s from deliberating drawing out the heavy silence to emphasize the sheer tension… or because she is wonder if Kuya cannot spell Ashley.

“This is the fancy name. For the fancy Ashley. Aeshleigh who is better than everyone else.” Ginnojo’s attempt at finding the reason for Aoi’s character name is ultimately thwarted by Aoi starting to get into character EXTREMELY reluctantly,

“Oh, I didn’t see you there, chicken shins.”

"Her boobs are not parallel at all." came Kuro's deadpan remark… and Ginnojo choking whilst looking like a boiled lobster. That, or because he is eating the Crispy Version of the Chicken breast.

“Kuro! Do not look there!”

“Why is she even insulting us for having chicken shins? She has chicken breasts on her thigh socks! Futaba, you should have actually worn chicken shin guards.”

…

Don't be so offended, Futaba, it's just a game.

Across the quad, one can see the rival’s best friend, who has stopped to look at his own reflection in the mirror. Pants so tight, anyone can see him casually working out his glutes while he styles his hair. No lie, they’re rocking glutes belonging only to one Koga.

“Ahem, Van Van?”

“You rang-rang?”

“Damn, Koga, you cougar go!”

“I’m curious about his hair, it’s actually in the shape of a starfish.”

“Don’t you just mean a star?”

“That can work too, I suppose.”

Sure, the pairing seems weird to the current audience but Aoi… I mean, Aeshleigh continues to sneer at Mammon who is slowly getting up with Miriam’s help but quicker with throwing the retort,

“I can’t believe that the University of Cooking School: Academy for Learning would ever allow people like you to attend as students.”

Except that it completely flies over both bullies’ heads as Aoi delicately laughs with icy cold teal eyes,

“Ara ara, so you do know. We should have gotten our diplomas already with these great skills of ours.”

“Or maybe hire us on as professors. You amateurs could learn a lot from us.”

With the first day of school about to start, there’s just not enough time to properly tell these two off so everyone else resists the urge. As Mammon and Miriam approach the door, they see a goofy-looking kid pushing hard against the window directly next to it.

“He would have been completely dislikable if it weren’t for the fact the cutest cub is playing him right now.”

On a more serious note, could someone like this also be a student at the school? He must be a great chef, with a name tag that clearly says ‘Bob’ but there he is, introducing himself as,

“Hi! I’m Kogare… Pop! And I think I was supposed to say that I broke this door.”

… And now I know why Fox-Face wants a copy of this film while he is attending Part 1 of the New Year Kitsune Festival…

When Mammon easily opens the door, Kogare… or Bob… or… Pop? Just has to tackle her for a big hug and squeal out,

“I LOVE YOU!”

“D’aww!” should have been everyone’s response but only Kuro’s was heard over Ginnojo screeching and of course, an epic debate about expressions of affection,

“GAGH! K-k-kogare! Do not touch a lady like that yet! Or profess something that serious until you are of age!”

“What? No! Hug her like you are squeezing the life out of her!”

Fortunately, the actors continue the scene. Unfortunately, it is with this line from Kogare Pop’s mouth that makes you wonder who allowed this writing. Money is on Kuya.

“Did you know my other name ‘Pop’ comes from my great-grandfather Pop pop?”

The critics are not amused, Ginnojo tutting and Kuro making a face like he had just tasted chocolate for the 32nd time,

“Days like these makes me glad I don’t know my lineage.”

“Yeah…”

“Is it just me or is that young gentleman cute?” Miriam tries to note but everyone... and I mean everyone... just has to say,

“It’s just you.”

Miriam and Mammon shrug their shoulders before following Kogare Pop into the building. They stand at the edge of the room, unsure where to sit. Other students wander in and keep themselves busy chit-chatting.

“Where… is the Colonel we were promised to romance for fried chicken? Even now we are stuck with cheese fries… nothing can make up for these soggy… Oh my gosh, so CUTE!!!”

Kuro only stops when he sees a scruffy-looking cat taking his place at a podium at the front of the class, the smallest chef hat on his head. Head Instructor and CEO of UCS: AL is here everyone! Nachi taps his paw against the wooden surface to gather attention… although Kuro is already cooing over the little hat on the nekomata’s head and even Ginnojo smiles a bit in approval.

Out of nowhere, the wind begins to rush around everyone as a swirl of cherry blossom petals fill the air inside the classroom despite it being in the middle of winter in Japan. To be more accurate, the petals are… Kuya’s feathers dyed pink much to Kuro’s delight,

“Nice effects! I kinda wanna play with them now! Guess I better wait for Kuya to fly and leave some behind next time...”

“Wait, the cherry blossoms are blooming for them? Where and when are they?”

A hushed murmur rolls through the classroom as HE walks down the aisle of desks. Suddenly, the room is sweltering. And there… we have Oji as the one, the only…

Colonel Sanders!

...

“I’m confused… are we supposed to find him handsome?”

“Did Oji just reveal his true aged appearance or did he just dye his hair white?”

“His eyeliner is as thick as his actual eyes and even thicker than his actual eyebrows and spectacle frames.”

All those statements were slowly cracking the fried chicken skin, with Ginnojo’s final casual observation really roasting Oji’s self-esteem. Nevertheless, the show must go on with the main chef and… love interest... helping the two audience members crack open the ranch. We shall now divulge in a bit of ASMR… ASMRanch as we massage Colonel Sander’s arm that is as thick as his neck. See how he flexes...

“OH GOD MAKE IT STOP!” Kuro squirms.

“FUTABA!!! I mean, Mammon, right, Mammon… MAMMON DON’T MIX WITH SUCH FILTH!”

… We are changing scenes already? Oh, ok, suit yourself.

Here, he wields the spork, his eyeliner game suddenly aligned…

“NO…!!!”

“It… is… rectangular. A rectangular spork.”

“Foon.”

Did that earn a… Kentucky-fried chuckle?

What’s Kentucky? Also, you broke character.

Think this play is broken. Oh, next scene...

The Colonel makes a delicious array of food items in the cafeteria...

“What kind of cafeteria has flowers and a fancy atmosphere?”

“Not Milk Hall Raccord except for the flowers.”

The Mac and Cheese falls flat on the ground, along with Oji’s chef hat,

“THAT’S IT! THE COLONEL QUITS!”

…

Ok, I’m going to resume while Ginnojo eats the rest of the food Oji has left...

Yeah.

And so, the wisest Satori Seer, on behalf of his boss, buries the abominable script and the actually-kinda-nice-art-if-it-wasn't-about-fried-chicken romance.

Hey, should we bury this camera?

WHAT?! AFTER ALL THAT WE’VE BEEN THROUGH???

Ok, ok, we won’t. Besides, there’s still Valentine's day if this show hits more than 1 view.

… Why the 1 view benchmark?

Cus… apparently, there was a dish here that wasn’t revealed here that would work great for a Valentine's Day episode.

… At least my brother can eat it.

Epilogue

For some reason, we have noticed a foreigner digging up the manuscript. He even paid Oji for it. Said it might be the next biggest thing in America for an even weirder reason?

Ginnojo is still eating the whole menu. Kuro has shared the magic of fried chicken with the rest of the troupe and occassionally, the circus-theatre guest. Unfortunately, it is during one of these stunts that a fried chicken cracked the lens. Even more unfortunate, the grease from the fried chicken seeped through the components and short-circuited everything.

So the only thing hotter than Colonel... is everything. Let’s hope we never see anything like this even in the 21st century.

Epilogue to the Epilogue

My grandparents sure were naive.

23 notes · View notes

greasers-against-onision · 5 years

Text

Onion Boy’s Reapers Creek (BIG problems right off the bat)

Warning! Minor discussion of a lewd scene involving minors! Marker in red.

Hey onions slicers, I’m gonna go on a quick rant about Onion boyo’s third book in his horribly cursed trilogy of “””literature”””” (I hesistate to even call it that). This is my first real rant, so it might be too long, it might be too shitty, but we’re gonna try. I’m in AP English Literature and Composition, and I’ve been in AP English Language and Composition. I’ve got 2 years of reading classic novels and analyzing them under my belt. I know what can be considered at least an okay book. And Onion boy’s book is not okay. It’s not even bad. It’s the unbearable. Because of my experience with all that AP “author’s purpose” shit I’m going to be critiquing this very harshly.

Also I’m REALLY sorry this came out super long, I got carried away lmao.

Also good luck to anyone taking any APs this year! I’m rooting for y’all! :)

I really sympathized with KrimsonRogue in his review. (LINK! It’s a great video, I highly recommend it. I applaude Krimson for putting up with all of Greg’s shit.) I read up until Chapter 10, as I just couldn’t handle the disgusting content Onision’s had written in—nor could I decipher exactly why he put it in there. Whatever the reason was, it was as poorly executed as the rest of every type of similar scene Greg has written.

There are some pieces of work that are so bad it’s good. Let’s look at The Room, by Tommy Wiseau, for example. A classic definition of “so bad it’s good”. Awful writing and dialogue, even worse acting...but it’s all these that gives it its charm. I’m a sucker for shitty works like these. But Onision’s Reapers Creek** is so bad it hurts. There are some moments that are straight up disturbing and SHOULD NOT EVER have been as much as conceived by Gurg’s edgy twisted mind.

****——Warning: slight discussion of a lewd scene involving minors below!——****

Aside from its obvious self-insert main character,—“Daniel” is sometimes referred to as Greg, oops!—the poor formatting, the endless typos, the shitty syntax style, etc, the biggest most disgusting part about the book is the explicit scenes with the 11 YEAR OLD MC. And it’s EXPLICIT. It is a sex scene. With an 11 year old boy. I do not care that Julie or Julia (or however Greg felt to spell her name this time around) is 15. They are MINORS. I nearly fucking threw up reading this. If you don’t believe This is CHILD PORNOGRAPHY, Greg! Do you know how many sick, disgusting fucks would get off to this if you let them get their hands on this?

For comparison, let’s look at Lolita, by Vladimir Nabokov. It’s a controversial work, I know, and absolutely disgusting to read, but I have read it to reference it on the AP at the advice of my teacher, as she read it in grad school. Keep in mind, Lolita is by far worse in content, as it focuses on a pedophilic relationship throughout the whole novel. There are gross scenes where the nasty pedo protag makes out with Lo, but there are no explicit sex scenes. The most is like a sentence just saying that it happened. But it was done with a reason. Nabokov uses pretty language and juxtaposes it with horrible, disgusting acts on the protagonist. It’s about propaganda. The reader is tricked by the protagonist Humbert into thinking he is a good guy on purpose. It’s “Tyranny from the POV of the Tyrant”, as one person put it.

The point is, Nabokov had passable reason to write on a subject matter so horrifying and despicable. To show how people can be manipulated with pretty words and an unreliable narrator (sound familiar?) By the way, it’s totally fine if you disagree and hate Lolita. It’s an uncomfortable read, and I totally understand. I’m just bringing up its merit to show how Greg’s writing is utterly horrible.

Why does Greg make his 11 year old protagonist have sex? Why, the same reason there’s sex scenes in all of his other books! The same reason he throws tragedies like school shootings in his books. Because he wants his self inserts to get laid. Why the fuck else?

In Stones to Abagaile**, the school shooting only brings James and his love interest closer together.

In This is Why I Hate You**, the school shooting again only brings Arthur and whatever love interest he had back home closer together again.

In this book, its sex for sex’s sake. Greg just wants Greg—oops! Silly me, I mean Daniel— to get laid. That’s it. Oh, and didn’t Onision himself give us the green light to interpret the novel as we wish? In the introduction he says that we can decide what really happened and what is just a “product of creativity” I believe he said. So, in the words of KrimsonRogue, headcanon accepted, Greg only wrote this to fulfill his weird fantasies.

Thank you for listening to me go on a literary rant about this shitty book.

**I’m not gonna italicize it. It doesn’t deserve even that. These books suck, btw. Not you, though. You rock. :) unless you’re Onision.

109 notes · View notes

seashellrosekitty · 6 years

Text

Chaperon Rouge | Teen Wolf AU

Pairing: Derek Hale x Original Character

Plot: Based on the classic tale, Little Red Riding Hood, a young French lady named Cerise makes an unlikely relationship with a known werewolf in Beacon Hills.

Wordcount: 8,687 (32-minute read)

Warnings: Death, gore, profanity, and smut. This is probably the darkest story I’ve written so far. Italicized phrases are spoken in French.

Requested by: Anon. :)

Author’s Note: Quite a long read! I took my time with this and I hope you take your time to leave comments. Please do tell me what you think! I need to know what you think!

P.S. My first OC, I guess? I didn’t realize this is what it was! So thanks again anon for the tip! :)

In the outskirts of France, there lived a young lady with lips as red as cherry, her hair as wavy as the high ripples of the ocean. Named after the color of her lips, she bears the name Cerise Trusler, coming from a long line of werewolf hunters. The Truslers were a close relative of the Argents, but Cerise, to her mother’s despair, was an illegitimate child of her father, causing him to be sent away before she was born, in favor of her life. Her mother had always loved her even when nobody else in their family did. She and her mother had moved away and decided to live in the countryside of France.

Cerise was a simple girl. She didn’t ask for too much except for the freedom to explore the world that surrounded them. Her mother worked as a couture (tailor) for a local clothing company, and she was one of the best in France. She was once gifted bolts of fabrics by her employer as a token for her loyalty and service. One of the fabrics had a unique shade of red. It was more vibrant than any red cloth she has seen in her life. In her long tenure as a couture, she knew that that kind of rouge was rare. Since it was so special, she decided to make a hooded jacket with large buttons for her daughter. Cerise loved it the moment she laid eyes on it, vowing to only wear such garment over her clothes.

Cerise and her mother may have lived humbly and away from their relatives, but they never neglected their purpose. They were skilled hunters. Cerise’s mother was especially good with a bow and arrow. Cerise’s specialty was knives and daggers.

One afternoon, her mother had received a letter from abroad, coming from a relative she had never met before, her granduncle, Gerard Argent. Madame Trusler and Gerard Argent used to have a good relationship, but after her mother’s affair, she had never heard from her uncle again. Not until that day. The letter urged them to visit him in California, in a town called Beacon Hills. He declared that he was sick, and wanted to see his favorite niece and grand-niece. To her delight, Madame Trusler sent back a letter informing her uncle that they will be on their way in no time.

Three days later, Cerise and her mother had arrived in Beacon Hills and were picked up by Gerard’s son, Chris. Cerise felt indifferent towards and her newfound relatives, for her mother had always told her of her resentment in the past. But she was her mother, so she respected her decision no matter how impulsive it was.

Cerise was startled when she first saw her granduncle. His eyes were grim no matter how big he smiled. His smile was eerie. And he spat black liquid, filling his hospital room with stained paper napkins. It was unsightly. Cerise wished she and her mother could just go back home to France. But her mother raised her well. She greeted her granduncle with politeness and kindness.

“Ah, ma chère Cerise (my dear Cherry), I’m delighted to finally meet you,” Gerard said, his voice was deep and rusty, perhaps his throat was already wounded by the black ooze coming out of his mouth.

Cerise tried to hide her disgusted reaction. “Comment allez-vous, grand oncle (How do you do, granduncle),” was all she said. Gerard respected their first language and spoke in French to them when he could. He explained that he was terminally sick, and wanted to see no one else before his death except his only son, his favorite niece, and her daughter. Cerise’s mother created a fuss apologizing to him for not being in contact with him, for she feared nobody accepted her in the family anymore. Gerard assured her that was not the case, but they had to keep hunting, and spreading out to the States was a good move for the family until his daughter-in-law and granddaughter died.

Cerise’s mother managed to rent a small house near the woods, as she was not comfortable staying with her distant cousin, Chris. She didn’t want to bother Chris for anything she needed at home. It was a perfect location for them to stay because they were accustomed to being surrounded in nature. And the woods was a good place to practice archery and fighting.

While Cerise’s mother decided to visit Gerard and take care of him for a day, Cerise decided to explore the woods, like she did back home. She brought all her gear and walked for twenty minutes until she was comfortable enough to make sure no one would see her, and no one would get hurt. Cerise had the vision of a sniper. She practiced on used buttons her mother brought home, those that no longer had a pair. She brought a whole box of buttons to practice on, and she would carve a small crater on the tree to put the button there.

That particular day, she decided she would practice archery to widen her skill set as a hunter. Aiming at a used button that barely stood out from the color of the tree, she took her time before shooting the arrow. She was at the last second before letting go of the arrow, when she heard footsteps approaching her. She let go of the arrow uncontrollably causing it to shoot out of the target. She turned around to see who was there and saw a man with his hands up in the air.

“You could hurt someone with that,” He said and halted his steps as he saw Cerise’s expression was threatened, and that she was instinctively being defensive, pulling an arrow from behind her. “I’m sorry if I frightened you. I’m Derek,” the stranger said and held out his hand for her to shake. She took a moment to respond and looked into his eyes, looking for sincerity. His eyes were river green, his features fell soft. He was striking. Handsome. And regal - like an alpha wolf.

“Cerise,” was all she said, carrying a heavy accent. She shook his hand but her gaze never faltered. As a hunter and stranger to this town, she was being cautious. “What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you the same question. This is a private property,” Derek simply said.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“That’s ok, Cerise. You have a beautiful name. Sounds like you’re not from around here.”

“Oui. I’m from France.”

Derek could hear her pulse beat faster, and he knew she was uncomfortable meeting a stranger.

“I should go. Sorry for my intrusion,” Cerise said, leaning hurriedly to pick up her gear but Derek wrapped his fingers over the half of her wrist as he changed his mind about holding the whole of it.

“Wait, don’t go.” Cerise slowly leaned back up, eyeing on his hand over her wrist. Derek swiftly pulled his hand away and gave her an apologetic look. “You’re free to practice here anytime you want. You’re my guest,” Derek offered, interest coming from his gaze.

“Thank you,” Cerise said her tone flat. Derek left her alone to assure her he meant her no harm. Cerise continued practicing until she was satisfied. The next day, she came back to the woods to practice some more, secretly hoping she would see the handsome stranger she met the day before. She was not disappointed, for Derek had spotted her in the middle of her practice. He made sure he wouldn’t frighten her and made his steps loud enough for her to hear from a distance, and this time, he walked in, appearing in her peripheral view.

“Mind if I watched?” He asked with a smile on his face.

“Have you no hobby, monsieur?”

“Please. Call me Derek, mademoiselle,” He charmingly said and bowed to her like a prince. It made her giggle lightly, slowly earning him her trust.

“Okay...Derek. Stop calling me that. We are not in France,” she said with a smile, her accent rich upon saying her home country. Derek felt a tickle upon the mention of his name in her French accent.

“I take it this is your hobby?”

“You can say that,” she says, keeping her real identity hidden. “What’s yours?”

“This one, I hope. I find watching you practice pretty intriguing. Besides, I have nothing better to do.”

“Have you no job?”

“I do, actually. But not until nighttime.”

“What do you do at nighttime?”

“I keep people safe.”

“Like a...” Cerise struggled to find her English words. “Like a guard, are you? Er, security?” Derek smiled humorously and said, “Yes, something like that.”

“Oh. Well. If you don’t mind. I need to practice.”

“Go ahead, don’t let me bother you. I just wanted to watch,” He said, looking at her fighting a smile from forming in her face.

“Perhaps you can tell me about yourself. So I know you’re not a stalker or a murderer. America has plenty of it, I hear.”

Derek smiled listening to her remark. “Okay. Again, my name is Derek Hale. I live in a loft downtown, but I come up here almost every day for a walk. This is my family’s land. And we’ve been in Beacon Hills for centuries.”

“Oh, old family. Just like mine in France.” Cerise put down her bow and arrows and then picked up her belt of knives. She wore the belt and started shooting her knives at the buttons scattered in the trees that stood beside each other.

“You’re pretty good at that. So you come from an old family, too. May I know your last name?”

“Trusler. Mother and I carry the family name, but our family don’t welcome us anymore. Said my mother was a shame to the family.”

“OK...I’m sorry for asking another question. But what brings you to Beacon Hills?”

“Well, Mother’s uncle fell ill. Said he wanted to see us before he dies. I never met him until yesterday.” It’s strange, she thought, she but didn’t bother mentioning it.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No matter. I hardly know the old man. But Mother is fond of him.” Derek didn’t want to pry deeper and tried to change the subject.

“I like your jacket by the way.”

“Thank you. Mother made it for me,” she said, casually glancing at him after shooting daggers.

“It suits you,” Derek said, hoping his charm was still working. They spent the afternoon getting to know each other. They met in the woods every afternoon while she practiced. Their friendship grew quickly as they felt comfortable in each other’s company. Cerise started bringing fruits and sandwiches for them both to enjoy. She would bring her gear, but sometimes she wouldn’t even touch them so they would just talk.

Meanwhile, Derek hadn’t told her that he started following her home to make sure she came home safely. He thought that sometime soon, he would offer to walk her home when he feels she’s comfortable enough.

One evening after midnight, Derek went for a drive in his Cruiser from the hills towards home. He was driving at 40mph when something crossed the road running, almost causing him to run over it. It ran on all fours and ran quite fast. He pulled over on the side of the road to follow it. He recognized the scent. He realized he shouldn’t follow it right away to avoid trouble, so he stopped running and followed its scent at his own pace.

It worried him when the scent led towards Cerise’s house. He picked up his pace and started running and as he reached Cerise’s house, he looked around and saw no sign of a break in, but the scent was all over the place. Quietly, he stalked the house, watching for signs of animal movements, but he found none. He stayed around the premises and thought about what happened. He couldn’t believe his senses. He was quite certain that he smelled Cerise in that creature. He went home that night and was unable to sleep. He just thought of her.

The next day in the afternoon, they met again in the woods. Cerise brought only her daggers and buttons. Derek didn’t mind. All he wanted to do was talk to her. He spotted her angrily shooting her daggers with cunning accuracy and speed. Cerise noticed his feet breaking small twigs and gave him a quick glance behind. She didn’t say anything and kept shooting her daggers. Once she ran out of daggers to shoot, she stomped towards the trees to collect them.

“Is this a bad time?” Derek managed to ask.

“No. I don’t know,” she mumbled in an irritated tone. “I just miss my home. I feel trapped in this town.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make you feel any more at home.”

“Not your fault, Derek,” she said quickly.

“How’s you’re mother’s uncle?” Derek asked. He wanted to stand near her but refused to do it.

“Not well. I don’t like him. There’s something about him,” Cerise stated and stopped looking at her targets. She turned to Derek with a long face. “Why do I feel like I could trust you more than him? And he’s my blood. You’re not.”

“But you said it yourself. You just met him. Just like you met me. Well, I can’t blame you. Even I don’t trust my own uncle. I guess that’s pretty normal in the family.”

“Is it? I can’t say. My granduncle comes from a prominent family in France. And Mother and I, we’re two outcasts in the family. He’s an Argent, and we’re just Trusler, we’re not as prominent as them. I don’t even know my father.”

“I didn’t know you were related to the Argents. But it makes sense now. This is why you practice shooting arrows,” Derek concluded calmly.

“How do you know my family?”

“Beacon Hills is small. People here pretty much know each other.” Derek refused to tell the truth even when he wanted to. He knew there was something more to the story. He put two and two together, and painted the perfect picture in his mind: Gerard was alive and he was up to something. The only thing he didn’t understand was the creature he saw the night before. “Would you like to take a walk? It’s my mistake for not showing you around. I could’ve made you feel at home the first time we met.”

Cerise appreciated the gesture and she let him show her around the woods. He guided her towards his car and drove her around town, showing her how little and quiet Beacon Hills was. Her mind grounded down to the land beneath her and started appreciating the place like a normal foreigner. She was amazed when she noticed how well Derek knew the town, even the remote areas in the hills and the woods. He bought her dinner over takeouts and drove uphill, where Derek would usually go to see the whole of the town. She found it mesmerizing to see the sea of lights beneath them.

“Thank you for doing this with me, Derek,” She said, her face beaming. Derek kept looking at her cherry red lips, desiring the soft touches of it.

“Don’t mention it. I’m glad you feel better.” They stared at each other for a while, and Derek could smell her arousal building up. Cerise finally looked away, brushing off her own desire for the man seated next to her.

“I had never done this at home. Mother and I lived quite simply. I barely even had friends. We were always looking out for each other. Always looking out for werewolves.” She gasped upon realizing the last word that came out of her mouth. “I meant wolves,” she shrugged and looked away.

“Then you have nothing to worry about here. There are no wolves here,” Derek said simply, softly touching her chin and turning her head back to him. He was already leaning closer to her and his gaze was filled with desire. “Can I kiss you?” He whispered, his low, rusty voice echoed in her ears, flowing all the way to her insides. She nodded slowly and they brought their lips together.

They kissed slowly. As their tongues started gliding against one another’s, their kisses became wet and passionate. Cerise had never kissed a man before, but she learned from a boy from school, which was a few years back. Kissing him felt new to her senses, but she could feel her nose taking in his breath’s scent, making her pull him in for more. Her hands roamed around his neck, then chest, then finally, his waist. Derek started opening the buttons of her red hooded jacket slowly. “Is this ok?” He asked, catching his breath. She nodded and slid the sleeves down her arms, removing the jacket from her body.

“Cerise...I want to kiss you,” Derek said as Cerise brushed the tips of her thumbs in his stubbled cheeks.

“Then don’t stop.” She looked at his river green eyes being shone by the dashboard.

“No...I want to kiss you...all over,” He whispered gently, eyeing her body. His breathing was heavy but slow. His desire escalated more than he anticipated it would. She looked bare with her jacket off. The nipples of her breasts were protruding over her thin lingerie and plain white shirt, which she gladly took off. Derek stared at the beauty before him. Her lingerie was made with silk and lace, thinly covering the valley that he wanted to devour.

“You can kiss me everywhere you like,” she offered. Derek was weakened at her seduction, leading him to kiss her neck so passionately. Their breaths caught up with their actions as their actions stayed in sync with their desires, fogging up the windows of the Cruiser. He held her breasts, caressing them to her pleasure, and when he wasn’t satisfied, he brought his mouth before her ear and whispered, “Come here and let me taste you.” The werewolf in him has awoken to his continuously growing desire, craving for the French woman who was now sitting on his lap.

She lifted her skirt up her hips, giving him access to her pulsating core. Derek effortlessly snapped off the locks of her bra, finally exposing the softest curves of her body. Derek looked at her naked breasts and then her eyes, letting her know how much he desired her, before attaching his lips to them, licking its tips much to her bliss. One of her hands stayed holding the side of his face while the other ran its fingers on his head, tangling his hair. She started moving her hips forward repeatedly, feeling the bulge hiding in his pants. His hands pressed on her back and trailed down to her hips then finally to her ass. He felt the laces in her lingerie. Her ass was slightly cold in his skin. He massaged them as he pulled them towards him, urging her to make her movement above him harder and faster. He realized it was only almost going to make him come first, so he let her slow down, guiding her movement above him.

One hand of his moved to her front, reaching for her clit hiding beneath her silky underwear. The other kneaded one of her breasts as he kissed her lips. The first touch of his thumb on her clit startled her, making her moan softly, urging him to suck on her breast just to hear more of her soft moans.

“Oh mon dieu! (Oh my god!)” She gasped as his fingers finally reached the inside of her panties.

“You feel so good in my fingers, Cerise...my cherry on top,” He whispered with a smile, teasing his new lover. She chuckled and said, “Hmm, you researched.”

“Mhmm,” Derek hummed. “I can’t wait to taste how sweet of a cherry you are.” He kissed her then said with his mouth muffled by her kiss, “I bet you taste better than real cherries.” Cerise melted in his husky voice and charm and kissed him passionately.

“It would be shame if you don’t get a taste,” She teased back. Derek then asked her to move in the back seat so she could lay down properly. She remained seated though, her back leaning on the window side of the Cruiser. Derek joined her and admired the beauty of the half-dressed woman in his car. He started kissing her knee. She opened her legs for him and his lips glided in her thighs, sending the pores of her legs and back to rise. His lips finally landed on her center, and he licked on her underwear to tease her before removing it from her ass. Derek took another moment to look at her, incredulously admiring her flesh and shape.

“You’re so beautiful, Cerise,” He said and licked the skin of her core before playing her clit with the tip of his tongue. He massaged her clit again with his thumb while observing it closely then licked again as if it were an ice cream cone on a hot summer day. “Mmm, your clit is so hard, Cherry.” He sucked on it, kissed it, and licked it again repeatedly, making Cerise arch her back, her body begging for more. Derek’s fingers explored her folds, gathering the viscous of her slick. “Are you wet for me, Cherry? Tell me you’re wet for me.”

Cerise nodded, her brows furrowed as she bit her index finger, seducing him all the more with her innocent but desiring look on her face. “I’m wet for you, Derek.”

“Yes, you are, darling. And you taste so fucking good. Much better than a really cherry,” Derek said as he continued licking her folds. He pulled down his zipper open and pulled his pants down, exposing his waiting hardened member. He started stroking himself as he kept licking on her. She heard his fist bumping on his pelvis as he stroked himself, making her produce more viscous liquid in his mouth.

“Oh, mon dieu! Derek!” The strokes of his tongue became vigorous, syncing with the strokes of his hand.

“Are you almost coming?” He murmured softly.

“Yes...yes...almost...”

“Good. Come for me, Cerise. Come for me, sweetheart,” he continued stroking his tongue and halted on stroking himself. His tongue kept a swift pace on her folds, fucking her solely with its warmth and the sensation of its pores brushing on her smooth, soft, and silky folds. Cerise finally reached her high, her moans elated in its tone, drawing heavy breaths as her release continued pouring out of her hole. Derek kissed in her inner thighs, giving her a feel of her slick release from his mouth.

“You’ve let me come. We haven’t done you yet,” she stated shyly, closing her legs.

“Who says we’re done?” He smirked. “You’re coming again tonight...while I’m inside you,” He teased, and then removed his shirt before kissing her again on the lips.

They made love for another hour and a half and he made her come twice more, giving her the cherry on top of a lovely night. Derek drove her home and when they arrived, they shared kisses in the car once again, still wanting to touch one another. They spent the next few days going on secret dates. Without knowing the reason for it, Cerise kept her relationship with Derek hidden from her mother. She and Derek would meet in the woods then Derek took her to his loft and they would make love for hours.

They were crazy about each other that Cerise felt she was in a dream whenever she was with Derek. And Derek didn’t want things to change between them. He didn’t care that Cerise was a hunter for he decided that she was his mate.

One late afternoon, Cerise had gone home to prepare dinner for her mother whom she expected would be home by then. To her surprise, her mother was already home preparing dinner. She was chopping vegetables quietly in the kitchen when Cerise saw her there.

“Maman (Mom),” Cerise called. “I didn’t know you’re home early.”

“I couldn’t blame you, Cerise. You were busy with your boyfriend,” her mother accused her with a sarcastic tone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Maman,” Cerise denied, but her heart started racing. Her mother turned around to look at her devious child.

“Don’t you dare lie to me, Cerise. I saw you with him in the woods, holding your arms and gluing his eyes on you. If my suspicion is correct, you do not know who he is.”

Cerise furrowed her brows on that last statement. “What do you mean?” Her mother shook her head incredulously, smirking with disgust.

“Of course. He did not tell you. If you could only see the way you look right now, my child, you’re an innocent, foolish little lamb to this wolf.”

“Mère (Mother)...what are you saying?”

“His name is Derek Hale, is it not?

“Oui, Maman. How did you know that?”

“He is one of our enemies, Cerise. He’s a werewolf! You should have known better as a hunter! As a Trusler! I spent years training you, and here you are, easily tricked by the very creature we have vowed to hunt! This is beyond disappointment, Cerise! You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Cerise’s tears started falling down across her cheeks as she turned her back from her mother, reaching for the front door. It started to rain when she came out of the house, so she put her hood over her head. She ran as she cried from being lied to and betrayed by Derek, and then shamed by her own mother. The rain started pouring that her tears camouflaged with the rainwater dripping onto her face. Her world around her spun and felt getting smaller and smaller.

She ran without stopping until she reached Derek’s loft. Still breathing heavily and soaking wet from the rain, she pounded on Derek’s door. In a few seconds, Derek slid the door open and a worried surprise drew all over his face upon seeing Cerise. She was pale, shivering, and dripping with rainwater.

“Cerise? What happened? Were you running out in the rain?” Her face dropped upon hearing his worried voice, but her thoughts led her to her mother’s revelation.

“Is it true? That you’re a werewolf?” Derek’s worried look dissipated in his face as guilt started surfacing. “Why did you not tell me?”

“Cerise...”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?!” She repeated angrily. “You knew who my family was! You know my granduncle! You know we’re hunters! You should’ve just stayed away if you wanted to stay alive!” She weakly stated although loudly, wiping her tears with the hems of her jacket’s sleeves. Derek remained silent, not knowing what to answer her. “Why did you have to trick me, Derek?? What was your plan? To kill me before I killed you?” Her voice was now hoarse as her initial anger has been released.

“No...I didn’t trick you. I would never,” Derek vowed sincerely.

“Then why did you make me fall in love with you?” She asked him, as tears just streamed down from her eyes. She regretted admitting to him that she was now in love with him, but she hoped it would wake whatever conscientiousness Derek had.

“Because you made me fall in love with you first,” Derek answered simply as he looked at her with sincerity. Cerise fought her feelings, rejecting his sweet words. “Liar. You’re lying!” Cerise accused him repeatedly, crying, and punching his chest. Derek let her punch him in the chest, looking at her with concerned eyes. Cerise realized he’s not against it and returned him a glance. She could see it in his green-greyish eyes - he loved her.

“Show me,” she demanded, her voice low and breaking. “Show me your werewolf form.” Derek didn’t blink at her demand and breathed deeply, bracing himself for what was to come. He closed his eyes for one second and revealed his crimson ones, glowing right before her. She gasped at the sight, for she has never met a werewolf before, let alone an Alpha. No matter how hard she trained, she and her mother never actually hunted for werewolves. Derek slowly shifted into his werewolf form. His fangs grew, his facial hair increased, and his forehead morphed, but he didn’t look threatening or violent. His eyes glowed, screaming Alpha, but they were not flaming. In fact, they looked quite ashamed.

Cerise covered her mouth at the sight of her werewolf lover. It was true. And werewolves looked different than they were described to her. Flashes of her killing werewolves streamed inside her head, as she was trained all her life to kill one when she sees one in front of her. Her arms started shaking in fury, her mind clouded by her strong feelings for him. She drew out a knife hiding on the side of her pants. Tears continued falling from her eyes as she did this, preparing for regret that she was about to stab her lover.

Derek could hear her heartbeat, and he knew that she was about to hurt him. He wanted to turn back to his human form but he changed his mind. He didn’t move away from her. “Is that what you really wanna do? Stab me to death?” He asked, encouraging her to reflect on her action. Cerise raised her arm over her shoulder, holding her knife that she practiced with the most. Its blade was already laced with wolfsbane, just enough to kill one werewolf. She inhaled deeply as she took a step towards him, still pointing her knife.

“Look at me, Cerise.” Derek’s eyes still glowed, but Cerise could feel it from him, he wasn’t harming her. He was still Derek, her lover. “I may be a predator, but I’m not a killer.” He slowly shifted back to his human form. Their gazes never faltered. “I would never hurt you, Cerise. You know that.” She felt it in his words. He loved her, and killing him was no way to return the favor. She slowly brought her hand down, still holding the knife. She looked down, resigning to the fact that she couldn’t kill him. Not when she felt the same way about him.

He took another step towards her and softly touched her chin, bringing her face up to look at him, then glided his fingers to the side of her neck while he looked at her intently. “I’m sorry I never told you. I didn’t know how.” Her eyes searched his as she listened to him. She looked at him no longer with anger. Her face was unreadable, but Derek looked at her the same way, with kind and apologetic eyes. Silence loomed between their gazes before they started attaching their lips to each other. She dropped her knife on the floor as her hands made their way to his body.

Cerise’s lips were cold from the rain. They kissed each other slowly, all the anger washed away in the kiss. All the doubt melted between their lips. Their argument completely vanished in the pleasure of the kiss. “Let’s get you dried up,” Derek interrupted. Cerise then whispered, “Okay,” and started walking towards the inside of his loft. She unbuttoned her red hooded jacket as her breaths in the kiss started getting warmer. The jacket was wet, making it harder to take off. Derek helped her remove the jacket from her arms, dropping it on the floor.

“Are you cold?” Derek asked in a whisper, holding her damp face and brushing away her wet locks from it. Catching her breath, Cerise simply nodded and said, “Can you help me stay warm?” Derek kept his gaze on her, then slowly kissed her cheek, keeping his mouth close to her and said, “My pleasure,” and then slowly reached the hem of her shirt, pulling it up gently from her body and over her head. She let him undress her as they kept their gazes glued to each other.

Derek kept his face close against her body as he bent down to sit on his ankle, breathing on her flesh with his warm breath. He removed her boots for her, then her socks. He stood back up still so slowly, as his hands gently trailed from her feet, legs, then thighs, giving her a gust of warmth in her skin. His hands landed on her ass and grabbed them firmly, pulling her pelvis in against his growing bulge. His hands went up to the hem of her pants and drew a circle around her hips with his thumbs before pulling it down. She stepped out of her pants and remained standing, watching Derek work below her.

He started giving her gentle kisses in her legs and worked his way up, licking her thighs, her pelvis hidden in her underwear, then her stomach, and then her breasts. His stubble tickling the sides of her stomach made her giggle a little. He grazed his teeth on the exposed skin of her breast as he slowly undone her bra. As her breasts were completely exposed, he licked them widely with his tongue and breathed on them heavily before kissing her chest, then her neck, her jaw, then finally her lips. “Warm enough yet?” Derek asked, her body still attached to his, her flesh aching for his warmth.

“Not enough,” Cerise replied and undressed Derek out of his shirt and ran her hands in his firm chest and stomach. “I’m still cold down here,” she said, bringing his hand under her core, covered in her damp lace underwear.

“I’ll take care of that,” he whispered as he slowly pulled her lace panties out of her round ass, and she bent her legs up as she stepped out of it, exposing her bare lips open in front of him. Derek sighs heavily at the sight and dives his lips onto hers, feasting on her hard clit. Cerise sighed loudly as the warmth of Derek’s tongue filled her flesh. He licked on her for a while, making her gush some warm viscous before he grazed his teeth on her inner thighs and rubbing her clit with his thumb. Her fingers slid on his hair slowly as she arched her back, voluntarily moving her hips, her core sliding back and forth above his face.

He growled under her, licking her thighs and hurried standing up, lifting her on her ass. “Let’s get you comfortable.” She sucked on his neck as she was being carried towards the bedroom, unapologetically displaying her craving of him. Her legs wrapped around his body, her pulsating core wetting the skin of his stomach. He laid her on the bed carefully. She backed herself to the top of the bed, bending one knee up, revealing herself to him seductively. He unbuckled his belt then unbuttoned his pants when he caught her sucking on her two digits before playing herself with them.

He wet his hands with her slick left on his stomach and started stroking himself slowly while watching her and they went like this for a while. She’s never done this before, to play with herself in front of a man. She was slightly embarrassed, but as she saw his face coveting for her, that encouraged her to keep going. He wanted her skin to feel warm and her core to stay wet only for him. The veins of his member protruded in its skin in every stroke, making his length grow larger and harder as he stared at her. Her fingers moved languidly in her slick as she tried to divide her attention between them, her hand in her breast, and the view of her werewolf lover stroking himself as he watched her.

They remained to play with themselves in front of each other for a while until he almost came to his high, then he stopped and told her he would take care of her from then on. He ate her up once again and stroked his firm tongue in and out of her until her body squirmed in pleasure, a rough moan went out of her mouth loudly. He growled a moan in response to hers, indicating his unfading lust for her. In an instant, she reached her high as their hands were interlaced. They both gasped for air and he wiped his face off of her slick by kissing her thighs all the way up to her chest, leaving the rest of her release in his tongue. Upon reaching her lips, she tasted a little bit of herself and she moaned in his tongue-filled kiss.

“Is that how I taste like?”

“Mhmm. It’s my favorite kind of cherry,” He replied, grinning as his kisses pepper her lips. He caressed her body as they kept exchanging kisses. He tasted her one more time before lining himself in her folds. His hand gripped her hair, arching her neck for him to lick and kiss as he started pushing himself gently inside of her. They drew sharp breaths in his every thrust, their bodies now hot and getting sweaty.

“You’re driving me crazy, do you know that?” He whispered, his words changing tones as he tried catching his breath while thrusting himself inside of her. She just looked at him, her face trying to form a smile, but the pleasure was stronger, breaking the smile quickly and inducing a repetitive moan to escape from her mouth. His strokes were hard and long, savoring the pulses her folds were making. “I’m almost coming. Are you?”

“Not yet, love. Je suis désolé (I’m sorry),” Cerise sincerely expressed, worry started drawing on her face. He halted his thrusts and pulled himself out of her slowly.

“No, don’t be.” He gave her a kiss. “We’ll take our time. I just want you to come again. I want you to make a mess in my sheets,” he whispered and brought his digits on the tip of her core, massaging her clit. She squirmed at his touch. “That’s right, sweetheart. I want you to let go of yourself. And when you’re close, tell me.” His movement gradually became faster as her body arched from the bed. He watched her face scream in pleasure, encouraging him to keep his pace. She moaned as she kept her eyes locked on his. She held his hand to stop his fingers from moving.

“I’m...I’m close. Come back inside me, Derek, I beg of you. I want you, love,” she said and kissed him, stroking his member. He looked at her hand stroke him slowly and held it.

“You better stop doing that or I won’t last,” Derek said with a smirk. Cerise giggled releasing his member and laid her back flat on the bed. Derek climbed above her and kneeled as he lined his head on her folds again; this time he wasted no time and guided his member inside of her, thrusting in and out of her folds. He pushed himself slowly for a few seconds and rubbed on her clit. As she has adjusted to his size, his thrust became harder and faster, making her moan his name and him growling above her in desire and pleasure.

He kept his forehead against hers, locking his gaze on her as his hands grabbed hers, intertwining them as he pinned her to the bed; his pace now steadily fast. He could feel her coming to her high as he was. “Would you come for me, sweetheart?”

“Mhmm,” she barely responded.

“That’s right. Come for me, sweetheart. Let go of yourself, baby.” That was her cue. She moaned and then gasped loudly as she came. That satisfied Derek, making him pull himself out of her and commenced his awaited release. He moaned softly as he released himself, letting her watch him come for her too.

He cleaned himself up as they finished, and he brought her some water to replenish on. She went to clean herself after him and then he lent her one of his shirts to sleep in. They cuddled in bed as their warm sweat dissipated from their bodies. Reality slowly came rustling in their heads.

“Are you still going to kill me?” Derek asked, slightly playfully in his tone. Cerise looked at him humorously and giggled.

“I could never kill you. But Mother must despise me now for being with you,” she stated, making him unable to respond. “Can we just...enjoy ourselves now?”

Derek grinned at her. “Of course. I don’t want anything else right now except you...my deliciously sweet cherry.” He kissed her lips warmly and kept his arm wrapped around her. They fell asleep shortly after that.

At midnight Cerise rustled in bed causing Derek to wake up. With her eyes still closed, Cerise started speaking in French, with words Derek did not understand. She suddenly opened her eyes and they glowed yellow.

“Cerise?” She paid no attention to him and stood up, her eyes missing a blink. She headed for the door but Derek stopped her from walking. “Hey...Cerise! Where are you going?” She kept walking. Her eyes were staring in the air, still glowing yellow. “You can’t leave like like this! You’re not even dressed!” She kept a straight face, still ignoring him. He kept yelling her name for her to wake up but it didn’t work. Realizing she may be a supernatural creature too, he turned his eyes into his crimson ones and roared at her. His Alpha roar snapped her out of her trance. She got startled seeing Derek’s red eyes for a second until they turned back to his green ones.

“Quelle (What)...Derek? Why am I standing?”

“Don’t you remember anything at all?”

“Only that someone was calling me in my dream.”

“That was me. I was trying to wake you up.”

“Why did you call me Chaperon Rouge?”

“I didn’t. I called you by your name. What does that mean anyway?”

“Red riding hood...” she trailed off as she turned around, gathering more of her memories. “‘Mon chaperon rouge’ (my red riding hood)...that’s what he called me.” They left the conversation at that as they both thought it was just some weird dream. However, it happened again on the same night, two hours later.

Derek noticed her come out of bed again. He asked her where she was going but got no response. It appeared she was sleepwalking again. She dressed fully this time before going out, so Derek followed her. She led him to the Argents’ basement, where, apparently, Gerard was, instead of being in the hospital like Cerise had told him. Derek watched from outside the opened door.

Cerise acted like a robot. Her eyes glowed yellow, but she almost didn’t blink and her eyes stared at nothing. She responded to Gerard’s voice. Gerard spoke to her in French, and she responded in kind.

“How are you, my red riding hood?” Gerard asked her, smiling at her with interest.

“Very well, grand uncle. How shall I serve you tonight?” Cerise responded, her tone was flat. She didn’t sound like herself. Derek furrowed his eyebrows in her response to Gerard. He was quite sure he didn’t want to see what was going to happen next.

“Just the same. I want you to sit on this chair,” Gerard commanded. She did as she was told. He tied her hands together with a rope behind her back. “Now, turn into your true self, my red riding hood.” He laid out all his syringes of all sizes and bottles of wolfsbane in different forms. Derek looked at the apparatuses swiftly as he tried gaining comprehension of the situation. Gerard was going to torture her. He might inject her with wolfsbane, whatever works for his goal. Cerise apologized, still monotonously, as she couldn’t bring herself to obey his last command.

“You know what I will do to you if you do not obey me, my red riding hood.” Her heartbeat started picking up. Derek could smell her fear. “Are you going to turn or not?” Gerard continued and slapped Cerise on the face really hard. She gasped in pain, urging Derek to barge in and rescue her. Gerard slapped her again, and this time Derek wasted no time and came barging in on Gerard in his werewolf form. Gerard was too smart for this. Without taking another step, Gerard grabbed the electrified baton from the table that Derek failed to see and zapped Derek with it easily. Derek roared loudly, reacting to the excruciating pain.

"Well, what do we have here? The man who caused me my misery," Gerard remarked, his tone ever so condescending.

"You did that to yourself," Derek replied, still grunting from the pain. "You forced me to give you the bite. What are you doing with her?" Gerard zapped him again, this time for a longer time, causing Derek to roar much louder, snapping Cerise from her sleep.

"Derek?" She called him in a weak voice as she realized she was tied to the chair, her pulse increased rapidly as she saw Derek laid in front of her, suffering from pain, sweating and catching his breath. She looked at her granduncle smiling as he was holding the electrified baton. "What are you doing to him? Why am I tied to this chair?!" She cried.

"I'm just doing what I need to do unlike you, my dear. But this, here," He said, pointing the baton at Derek. "This came at an opportune time for me to show you what you really are, my red riding hood. And you will do as I say, or he will suffer until he dies." He zapped the baton at Derek again, making Cerise scream her cries.

"What a shame, getting yourself involved with a Hale." His words were spoken slowly, each word penetrating into her heart with pain. "This is why you'll never be like us. You're weak. You've never hunted a werewolf in your life! Bringing shame and disobedience into the family. You're no different from your mother," Gerard taunted her with disgust.

Cerise's tears stopped falling and her eyes grew dark as anger took over her. She glared at her granduncle and said, "How dare you involve my mother in this."

"She never told you, did she? The truth about your father. Your father was like this poor creature. A werewolf. An enemy to our family. But your mother, the weak one that she is fell prey to him like a lamb to a wolf. She fell in love and here you are." His voice faded in the air as he leaned closer to his grandniece. "A werewolf hiding in sheep's clothing."

"What do you want from her?" Derek asked, grunting as he dragged himself to a wall. Gerard looked at him, his knees still bent.

"Stop pretending that you don't know," Gerard replied, smiling.

"What is he talking about?" Cerise turned to Derek. Gerard's eerie smile didn't fade and he forced Derek to answer Cerise's question. Derek looked at him, his lips pursed together. As if he didn't suffer enough.

"He wants your blood. But only when you turn into a werewolf," Derek said with a hoarse voice. "You're born a werewolf, and you're his blood. Your blood will heal him. It's a legend I've heard."

"That's impossible," Cerise denied. "I'm not a werewolf. I would know, wouldn't I?"

"My dear," Gerard started. "Nobody could shoot knives like you do. What makes you think you're a sharpshooter? Because your mother trained you?" He shook his head. "You do not know it, but you do have the skills of a werewolf. But you are a sleeper. You've never turned when you're awake. And you don't know how to turn without my voice. Without my command."

"You're fucking sick," Derek interrupted.

"You don't need to tell me that," Gerard replied and zapped him once more and took his time. Cerise screamed, begging for mercy. Gerard didn't stop zapping him and laughed at the sight of Derek suffering. Despite being tortured, Derek could still hear Cerise's heartbeat going faster. He knew she was about to turn. Cerise screamed for Gerard to stop, but even Gerard knew torturing Derek was provoking her werewolf to come out. Cerise didn't stop screaming and grunting as she slowly turned into her werewolf form. Her eyes glowed yellow again and this time, they glared in her face, flaming in anger. Her fangs showed and hair turned wild and messy around her face. Her hands moved behind her, trying to break free from the rope. Gerard smiled at the success of his tactic to make her turn and stopped zapping Derek, hurrying to grab a syringe but Derek managed to grab his leg and make him drop on his head. Still holding the baton, Gerard zapped Derek in his ribs, this time forcing the baton against Derek, finally knocking him unconscious.

Cerise growled and roared loudly, freeing herself from captivity in the chair and attacked Gerard. Her claws were long and sharp. She whisked the baton away from Gerard's hand with her claws, wounding Gerard instantly, black ooze coming out from his wounds along with his blood. Cerise was in an uncontrolled rage, as turning into a werewolf while awake made her remember all of the nights she was summoned by Gerard in her sleep. Her werewolf hearing specifically heard Gerard's voice as he was her master. She responded to his voice calling her 'mon chaperon rouge' and that name was the code he used to control her, to let her turn into a werewolf without her remembering. But she's only turned once successfully, and that was the night Derek almost ran her over. Gerard wasn't able to get her blood because she instinctively avoided being injected by the needle.

Her growling didn't stop as she wounded Gerard with her claws repeatedly in his chest in a fit of fury, bringing him helpless and coughing more black ooze. Her growls woke Derek back to consciousness. Still feeling pain in his body, he screamed at her to stop clawing at Gerard for she might kill him. But she didn't listen. She was a new werewolf and she was in a murderous rage. Derek dragged his body towards her and Gerard, attempting to touch her out of her fit. But it was too late. From amber, her eyes turned into a cool blue. She caught her breath as she realized what she's done. She looked at the old man lying below her. His clothes and skin ripped off, his chest bare with shed muscles and veins, covered in dark blood and black ooze, laying completely lifeless.

She looked at the claws in her hands that still shook from her frenzy, realizing how carnal it was, having to have murdered her own granduncle. Her whole body trembled as she crawled out of Gerard's corpse. She looked at her clothes, her favorite red jacket now soiled in Gerard's blood and black ooze, and then slowly she looked at Derek, looking terrified at herself, at what she has done in a matter of a few minutes.

"I killed him." Her voice was barely audible. Derek held her, and his touch made her turn back into her human form. He wrapped his arms around him an attempt to comfort her.

"He could've used you until he no longer needed you," Derek assured her.

"Are you justifying my crime?" She looked at him incredulously.

"What difference does it make if you killed a werewolf as a hunter?"

Cerise didn't reply and dug her head back into his chest. She felt cold and afraid. She felt different all over. She was a werewolf and she didn't know. She then knew and she had just had her first kill. She turned her eyes and they glowed icy blue. Everything was new, unpleasant, and difficult to grasp, except for the embrace of her lover, her mate, where she has always felt safe.

@spxderbarnes @bojabee @jurrasicpork @chiamilia @thejourneyofabrokenheart @sav625

#derek hale #derek hale imagine #derek hale x oc #derek hale smut #teen wolf au #teen wolf x oc #teen wolf imagine #tw

313 notes · View notes

closetspngirl · 6 years

Text

Love Heals the Soul (Part 13) - Dinner and a Movie

Summary: With the convention finally wrapped up, Jensen and the reader decide to have a little movie night.

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x reader, mentions of others

Word Count: 2131 (I should just stop apologizing now...I can’t help it.)

Warnings: End of con antics, fluff, and some more fluff

A/N: Feedback is always welcome! Italicized are lyrics, POV thoughts or text conversations; you can tell by the context.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with the cast doing their photo ops and autographs. You told Jensen that you’d be back down later, that you were going to go for a walk and pack up your things.

Heading back up to the room, you tidied up, made sure you had everything ready for checking out later and grabbed a coat. You didn’t walk far, just to the park that the two of you had gone to after lunch yesterday. There was a bench near the park’s center, an open plaza area, with kids playing and people strolling through enjoying their Sunday afternoon. Sitting, you took a deep breath of the fresh air, felt the warm but slightly chilled air against your cheek, closed your eyes and relished in the moment.

Not sure what triggered it, you were suddenly back in the Parque in Cuenca, sitting on a bench looking at a similar scene. You were looking around, not really looking for anyone in particular, but not fully settled about the idea of being there. I know I shouldn’t be here, just out in the open like this. I just couldn’t handle the hotel room anymore. Not with…You didn’t know why, but your fight or flight senses were starting to become overwhelmed when you heard the honking of a car, sounding like it was going to run into in the middle of the parque. Startling you, you opened your eyes with a gasp, realizing that it was just a child on a bike honking the horn. These are never going to stop are they?

Feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket, you pulled it out to see a text from Jensen.

Meet me at the photo ops booth?

Be right there, 10 min?

The convention now officially over, you didn’t have to go through as many people as there were earlier in the day, most of them in their rooms packing or already gone. When you met Jensen, you were also met by the rest of the cast in attendance. “Hey, so we can usually sneak in a few cast ops at the end, if Chris is feeling up to it,” Jensen said, arm automatically going around your waist. “Oh, ok, well I don’t mind waiting for you,” pointing towards the corner out of the way. “No, I want you in some of these, our first convention needs to be documented.” Ugh, that smile, that is going to be the death of me.

You took a few with Kim, Briana, Ruth and Rachel while the guys got there’s. Chris called everyone in for a couple quick shots of the group, somehow you and Jensen had ended up in the middle; your arm around his waist and his arm around your shoulder. Chris took a couple pictures, at which point you and Jensen looked at each other. It was the Sparks moment all over again; everything around you seemed to fade away. He leaned down to steal a quick kiss from you; despite the quick and simple nature of the kiss, you still melted from it.

It wasn’t until there was a collective ‘Aww!’ from everyone, and a “Guys! We’ve been over this already – room!” from Jared, that the two of you broke apart and realized that every single one of them had left the frame, leaving you and Jensen standing there. “How did they manage that?” You looked around, confused, then back to Jensen, who just let out a hearty laugh. “Your guess is as good as mine, especially since Chris and Briana are both here.”

“Ok! I think I got a few good ones!” Chris said to everyone, giving you and Jensen an obvious wink. “I’ll get these all out to you soon! See you guys at the next convention!” Everyone clapped and hugged, said their goodbyes and went their separate ways. The cast was granted a few extra days from filming, so Jared decided to fly down to Texas for the remainder of his weekend to be with Gen and the kids. “Hey, next time I’ll bring them up here so you can meet them, they’d all love you!” he told you before leaving, telling everyone goodbye. The four of you walked back up to your rooms to grab your things, you being thankful that you were already packed.

“Give me 30 minutes I’ll be packed and we can head out,” Briana told you. You tried to keep it from being obvious that you were already sad having to leave Jensen, but of course they all noticed. “You know what? My bag is already packed, I can take her home,” Jensen offered. Bri and Kim gave their classic smiles, you hugged them both, promised to text in the next few days and told them to come by the café for some pastries. With that, you were Jensen’s car on the way to your apartment.

It wasn’t a far drive at peak travel time, so getting home on a Sunday evening was a breeze. There wasn’t much time for a decent conversation, between the short travel time and you giving Jensen directions. You did ask him what he had planned for the weekend, with his extra days off, replying that he didn’t really have anything going on. Nothing but the usual chores around the house, maybe grab a coffee at some point over the time off; giving you a sideways glance and a smile at the statement.

“Would you want to come up and have some dinner? I was just going to make some spaghetti, nothing fancy, maybe watch a movie,” you asked. “Sure, I’d love to,” he replied as the two of you got out of the car with him grabbing your bag and you leading the way up the stairs. So glad I tidied up the apartment and bought a few groceries before I left this weekend.

You walked in first, turning on lights as you went, “Make yourself at home. Kitchen, bathroom, living room…” you pointed as you went. You shrugged out of your coat and hung it up, while also taking Jensen’s and putting them in the coat closet. “Would you like anything to drink? Water, beer, whiskey, coke…” you started listing off beverages. “Hm. Whiskey, neat?” You smiled sweetly and went to the kitchen to pour your drinks.

Handing him one you pointed to the living room. “Feel free to relax, you can search through Netflix and find a movie while I start dinner.” “Any requests? ‘It’? ‘Silence of the Lambs’? ‘My Bloody Valentine’?” He said the last one with a chuckle. “How about nothing that will add to the already frequent nightmares?” You said, rolling your eyes at his suggestion to the movie he was in, only to realize what actually came out of your mouth. Damn it.

Seeing he was already trying to form a question in response to what you just said, you cut him off. “How about something along the lines of ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off’, ‘The Breakfast Club’…I don’t know, some cult classic…that’s not horror. And no clowns!” You added at the end. “Ok, Sam.” Jensen said laughing; turning to the living room while you got dinner ready. You made quick work of getting the sauce started, thanking your few years in restaurants and banquets before the café for being able to cook up a quick meal if you needed to.

As you were slicing up some of the vegetables for the sauce, you saw Jensen look over the back of the couch when he opened the Netflix app on the TV, the cursor of course highlighting the last show you watched. “So…Sam or Dean?” Looking up at him while trying to figure out why he’d be talking about their characters, you realized the show in question. “Do you really want to watch your own show Jen? Do you even do that?” You asked, steering the conversation away from the first question, and willing the flush in your face to go away.

“Eh, I watch occasionally, but I can pick something else,” and with that he was scrolling through some of the classics. Giving the sauce time to simmer and the pasta to cook, you went to the living room, Jensen seeming to have settled on a movie, but not starting it yet. “Do you mind if I go change? I’m kind of over wearing jeans,” you asked, leaning against the couch. “Not at all, it is your apartment after all.” You came back in leggings, a tank and another of the lightweight hoodies that you had worn at the gym that morning.

“Dinner is ready, do you want another drink?” You asked him. “Sure, it smells amazing in here! You made this from scratch? Just now?” Jensen asked, inhaling deeply at the smell of the sauce as he walked in the kitchen. You chuckled, “Yep. It helps that it’s one of my favorite things to make, as well has having some professional kitchen experience, the prep goes quickly.” You got out your favorite set of pasta bowls and dished each of you a serving, refilled your drinks and got silverware.

“I’m usually all for eating on the couch while watching TV, but can we sit at the table, then move when we’re done? Spaghetti isn’t the most graceful thing to eat on the couch.” You asked him, feeling weird for asking that and trying to hide it with a laugh, even though you knew you didn’t have to feel that way with him anymore. He laughed, happily obliging.

Jensen took his first few bites and let out a groan, “Oh my god, Y/N, this is amazing! It’s so simple, but so amazing.” All you could do was sit there and give a small laugh. “Thank you, you should see what I can cook when I actually put effort and a little planning into it.” Finishing another bite, Jensen said, “Well, how about dinner at my place next time?” Twirling your next bite around your fork as if you had to give any thought to the invitation, “Sounds great.”

You had started the movie before eating, talking occasionally. When you finished, you gathered up the plates, and stuck the leftovers in the fridge, making sure the kitchen was at least halfway cleaned up so you wouldn’t have to deal with it in the morning.

“So Y/N, do you have to work tomorrow?” Jensen asked, leaning against the counter while you finished up, not letting him help you. “I don’t, I decided to take tomorrow off, my assistant can handle everything. Honestly, I think I need a day to just chill and recover from this weekend. It was a fantastic weekend; don’t get me wrong, but somewhat exhausting. How do you do this so often?” He smiled, looking down for a moment. “Eh, you get used to it eventually. It helps when it’s fun.”

You debated for a moment as to if you wanted another drink. It’s not like anything will happen. It’s just dinner and a movie and a few drinks. We’re both adults. Seriously Y/N, relax. “Refill?” You asked, reaching for the bottle. “Sure.” You paused for the quickest of moments when you looked in his eyes, not sure what you were seeing, the only word coming to mind; promise.

The two of you settled on the couch, the movie still playing in the background. Jensen’s arm was around you as you laid into his side, thoroughly enjoying the warmth coming from him as well as his hand rubbing your arm and shoulder. Your glasses had long since been set on the coffee table in front of the couch and through the course of the movie, you had shifted down so that your head was in his lap and his arm on your side tangled with yours. The weight of his arm on you and his warmth, mixed with the whiskey, you were lulled into sleep.

The end credits started and Jensen noticed that you were sleeping, trying to nudge you awake enough to get you to bed. “Y/N…sweetheart,” he coaxed, brushing his hand along your head, but you weren’t waking up enough to walk on your own. “Ok, let’s get you in bed,” he whispered close to you, scooping you up off the couch. You could hear him, but you just couldn’t wake up, nuzzling into him as he carried you to your bedroom.

He laid you down gently, pulling the covers up over you and kissing your head. “G’night Y/N. I’ll let myself out,” he whispered, rubbing his hand over your head where his lips just were. Jensen started to turn to go when you stirred, “Jen?” He turned back around, not really sure how awake you were, “Yeah sweetheart?” walking back into the room.

“Stay.”

Tags: @maralisa124 @somilotopia @delightfullykrispypeach @steffiemeheus @lizwinchester16 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @mystrie @supernatural-lover-teamfreewill @cats-are-untrustworthy @superromijn @gifsforgomez @sherlock44 @life-through-the-lenss @1233088 @fandomloveyeah

#love heals the soul #jensen x reader #spn

21 notes · View notes

ezilyamuzed · 6 years

Text

There’s no place like home- part 14

Summary: The reader has had a unique gift all her life. While considering it a curse, she discovers the identity of her real father after her mothers passing. Journeying towards her new life, she finds herself thrown within the Winchester’s world. Is it her destiny?

Setting: End of season 13. This takes place after episode 13.18. Flashbacks are italicized.

Warnings: Language. Angst. Fluff. A little bit of smutty thoughts...

A/N: Building up more of the story. Split in between Reader and Dean’s POV from previous part to now. Hope you’ve been keeping up, some things from earlier parts may come back...

Any grammatical mistakes are all my own, because I am human. Remember all comments and feedback are welcomed! If you want a tag in future posts regarding this series or other writings please send an ask! As always thank you for reading! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

Time melted away as you soaked up the heat from his skin to yours. Completely, for once in what seemed like forever, you felt at peace, almost like you were where you belonged; with him, at this exact moment, in this place. You had almost forgotten about the girl who laid in the other room recovering from her own nightmare until Dean spoke up.

“One of us should probably keep watch over her in case she wakes up,” he kissed the top of your head. “I’ll do it, you get some sleep.”

“Your clothes were all gross though, you’ll probably scare the crap out of her if she sees all the blood and gunk when she first sees you,” you stated while setting yourself up from his hold around you.

“I have some extras in Baby I could grab,” he answered while also lifting himself up to your side, placing a tender kiss on your shoulder

“Well I’ll grab them for you. Mine were still relatively clean… even though I feel a little dirty right now,” you grinned before leaning over and giving him a little peck on the corner of his mouth.

Making your way over to the bathroom to grab your clothing thrown all over, the smile on your face only grew wider as you heard the low whistle coming from Dean.

“Do you really have to put them back on? I mean… I’d have to say this view of you is particularly in the top 5 of my favorites.”

“Oh?” You laughed while shimming into your jeans. “What’s number one?”

“Earlier tonight,” he breathed out. “While you sat just watching the stars. It’s a tie with the second night I met you, when you just stood staring into the pool just before you pushed me in.”

“You had it coming,” you laughed as you pulled your shirt over you head. “I mean, you were kind of jerk before to me, and it was there. Seemed like perfect payback.”

“You just wanted to see me wet,” he grinned as he watched you pick up his clothes from the floor while giving an innocent shrug.

“So where are your keys?”

“Right pocket,” he nodded, watching you dig into his jeans. “I don’t have to remind you to be careful with Baby do I?”

“I’m not driving her anywhere Dean,” you rolled your eyes. “Anyways, I’m probably the last person you need to educate on how to handle a beautiful classic, I have my own remember?”

“That’s purple…”

“Damn straight she is,” you scolded back. “So are the clothes in the backseat? Trunk? What?”

“Trunk. Green duffel.”

“Got it,” you said as you walked out the door, letting it close behind you.

The crickets and other nocturnal creatures were still very much awake as you walked around his car. It was a beauty sitting there with the moonlight reflecting off of her chrome grill. There was probably at least another good hour before the sun would peak up in the distance, starting the busy day of the rest of the travelers in the motel.

Popping open the trunk with the turn of the key, you lifted it. Seemed like a normal trunk with a couple random things in the back, but the outline of a hidden hatch caught your eye. You lifted it slowly revealing his hunters toolbox before you. Random relics, sawed off shotguns, various knives and other guns, and a large metal container of salt. All pretty normal and standard. The rocket launcher kind of through you for a loop however as you laughed while picking it up.

“What the hell do they use this for?” You asked yourself as you aimed it in the distance.

“Cosplaying Rocket the Racoon now?”

Turning quickly to the voice, not dropping the weapon down you saw Gabriel standing with a smirk on his face. You have him a hard look while he gave you a little curtesy in reply.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“You called remember?” He stated while moving aimlessly and slowly within your vision. “Interesting night I would say. I always did wonder what Dean’s ‘O’ face looked like. Interesting choice in Winchester’s. I would have picked the tall one myself.”

“You heard me? Why didn’t you come before?” You growled. “They need you.”

“I’m not interested in the dynamic duos quest for mommy,” he retorted before breathing out a sigh. “So how are you kid?”

“Just fuckin peaches and cream,” You huffed while dropping the launcher down in your hands and sticking it back into the trunk.

“I see time hasn’t changed your charming attitude.”

“What do you want if you’re not going to help?” You snapped again.

“You know just to check in, see how things are doing. I’m just doing fantastic, ya know after being held in captivity for the last 10 years or so and having my grace slurped up like I was a juice box.”

“Get to your point.”

“Point is my dear, I heard you,” he stated firmly. “I never stopped hearing you. You do have a pretty loud mouth there. But, I’m not here for a high school reunion. I need your help with something.”

“And there it is,” You sassed back while folding your arms. “What in the world could I do for you and why would I even care?”

He stood dead in his tracks, the anger and hurt was rising in him as you stared him down. The once carefree angel you had known was truly broken before you.

“You have made some interesting friends back in Lawrence,” he replied. “I need you to go and talk to them. Find something out for me. They know things.”

“Ask them yourself.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” he laughed nervously. “I’m not sticking my weakened and fragile behind in there.”

“But throwing me in is okay? Yeah, you haven’t changed.”

“You’ll be fine. You’ve already had your initiation into their little club, you know sharing so much history with them.”

“You… you knew didn’t you?” You raised your voice a little, feeling the hurt and betrayal that he had kept such a secret from you.

“You weren’t quite ready there sweet cheeks, not like you are now. Oh my, how you’ve grown. What do you think you would have done if I would have just told you the truth? That dear old Grandpa and Grandma got mixed into a bad crowd? Honestly, consider yourself lucky I was watching out for you.”

“Oh yeah, your abandonment was really watching out for me,” you rolled your eyes while grabbing the green duffel out.

“It was,” he answered back in seriousness. “If my brothers would have found you, who knows what would have happened. Sticking around you would have kept a target on your back for them. They don’t always play nice. They aren’t like me.”

“Because you’ve always been a fucking ray of sunshine,” you scoffed while lowering the trunks lid down softly. “Tell me what exactly you want and maybe I will make a deal.”

He grinned in satisfaction that you were willing to help with his crusade. He moved closer to you, as you stood firm waiting to hear his plea to deliver the ultimatum you had in store in return.

“I’m looking for Loki and his family,” he informed you. “They gave me up. I want my revenge. Find out where they are. I’m sure you will figure out how.”

“And if I do it, you need to do something for me in return,” You coaxed. “When the Winchester’s call for your help again, you will stop being a scared little child and answer.”

He pulled out a little plastic kazoo and held it in his lips. Giving it a light blow he nodded before snapping his fingers and whisking away once more for your sight. Taking in a deep breath, you found yourself moving back to the motel room door. Opening it slowly to see a worried and impatient Dean Winchester staring at you.

“That took a lot longer than expected,” he questioned you while cocking up an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well you have so many cool toys out there,” you flashed an innocent smile while dropping the bag to him. You could have told him about your visitor, but the fact remand that even if you did help Gabriel, you couldn’t be certain that he would follow through on his end, bringing up hope and crashing it down for Dean. “The military grade rocket launcher was particularly interesting.”

“One of my favorites, although I can’t say I’ve gotten the opportunity to use it that much. Sam can be a little of a Debbie downer when it comes to that stuff.”

“I’m pretty sure for good reason,” you laughed as you watched him pull out a simple black t-shirt and jeans, moving from his spot to throw them on in a little bit of a rush.

“Everything is okay though? Right Doc?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” You asked while thinking of the situation you were in.

Why would everything be alright you wanted to yell. In order for him to get his mom back, you had to go and talk to the group who wanted to use you. Working with them, could possibly put Dean and Sam in danger if they brought back the nephilim. Plus the whole angel army that could come through as well, with plans of world domination. Yeah, just only a few things that could go wrong.

“Well I mean, everything tonight, at the bunker, the bar…about an hour ago ,” he trailed off skeptically.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl. I won’t break,” you lied to yourself and him. “And as for what happened an hour ago… well that was fun.”

A smirk raised in the corner of your mouth as you drew closer to him, pulling his shirt in your hands to you. Stretching up on your toes, you give him a little kiss. Those damn lips were insatiable:

“So...what do we call this? I mean you’ve said you don’t do the whole relationship thing, plus my track record isn’t exactly great either… although I must say it is better than Sammy’s,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh don’t get all chick flick moment on me now Winchester,” you teased before trying to cleverly distract from telling him how you really felt. “This? It’s fun. Why ruin things by giving it a label? I mean, we both have other things to worry about right now, one of them being the girl next door who will probably wake up soon with PTSD.”

“So, strictly business then...maybe a little fun on the side.”

“Yup,” You popped off your lips, noticing a wave of disappointment coming over him.

“Alright then,” he turned to the adjoining door to the other room, speaking again before walking through. “I’ll wake you in 2 hours or if she wakes up first.”

“Okay,” you said into the empty room as he shut the door behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Sitting down on the bed with the sheets torn every which way, you dropped your head down to your knees. Everything felt like the world was spinning. Like with every minute quickly turned into another twist and turn of a rollercoaster that you couldn’t get off of. As everything about your life was becoming clearer, the future was now fuzzy. The only thing you knew for certain was that you could not deny any longer was that the man in the other room had gotten under your skin, which only made the pain in your stomach stronger knowing that you had to push him away or at least try to. It’s was true, you both had work to do, and what you were about to do was accept what you really were and join the other monsters he would gladly take down if given the chance.

Moving over to the little mini bar, you slammed back the first tiny bottle that looked like it could hinder you mind from talking anymore for at least a minute. Not working, it was quickly followed by others until there was nothing left on the shelf making you slam yourself down on the bed in defeat.

“Fuck.”

____________________________________________________

Y/N’s laugh as she had spoke about old hunting stories was not just what she needed after having her whole world turn upside down, it was what Dean had needed too. Before he had met her, he couldn’t remember the last time he had genuinely laughed or even really heard one in his presence. Sure Sam would laugh sometimes and tell jokes, but most of them were at Dean’s expense so they didn’t count.

He could have sat there with her all night, but fate had to

walk through the door. Of all places, one of his favorite bars, vampires just had to stroll in for a bite. It had even surprised Dean the way he let Y/N take control over the plan, maybe because for once in his life he didn’t have to. Perhaps maybe it was the way that she looked at him, almost telling him to trust her. He did trust her, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Y/N was no ordinary girl, yes, but someone he cared about all the same, maybe even loved. Well, not maybe, he did, so that meant he would do anything for her, including gladly put himself in harm's way before she would ever have to. That wasn’t her though, it was almost like she didn’t care about herself or maybe she was just testing the limits of what she was capable of. Something he himself had done in the past.

Dean had watched the way she moved gracefully, almost like a dance when he had gotten to her just when they were about to attack. The noise of the back of her skull cracking up against the vamps face even made Dean cringe a little. That had to hurt, but it didn’t seem to faze her. She quickly spun around catching the blade and was able to slice right through him like butter. It was a bit impressive where Dean could only imagine exactly how strong was she for such a small person.

The Vampire shielding herself on ground was going to be an easy kill, and he would have done it without a thought if Y/N hadn’t of stopped him. She saw something that he didn’t notice until he had stepped back. A terrified and innocent girl. Sure sometimes monsters beg for their lives to deceive you from doing what needs to be done, but Y/N trusted her instincts, finding truth before action.

Dean knew as soon as she asked her question what she was thinking. The poor girl had just been turned. He knew, from experience, how confusing and how much strength it took for her not to rip Y/N’s throat out right there. She needed the cure fast. Thank Chuck that Dean had opted to always have some on hand after the last time someone needed it.

Y/N must not have known that it was now a widely know recipe by the way she looked at it. Hell, even Dean started sharing it with others after he first learned about it. Blood of the vamp who turned you and a few other interesting additions. Well, they had the blood. There was enough of both vampires who may have been the source dripping on the ground where they stood. Hopefully it would still work. He never really tried after the fact like this before.

After Y/N walked away with the girl in tow, Dean knew it was his job to clean up the mess. He really did like this bar, and didn’t want to see them shutting down anytime soon because of a couple of corpses hanging out in the parking lot. He was able to shove them in Baby, which of course made him groan at the condition she was now in again. He was going to have to give her a good scrubbing later.

One good thing about it being so close to home, you know where to easily hide a body or two. He knew exactly where to take them, but it wasn’t necessarily a clean area. It was muddy and with adding all the fluids coming from them, it was going to be gross. Y/N really would owe him after this one.

He smiled when his phone dinged with a text message from her. Even though it was simple, he know knew that she was aware that his number had been saved for her, although he had written it down back in Sioux Falls. He didn’t know if she would have just thrown it away, possibly regretting the night before, so adding himself was his own way of just making sure she couldn’t forget. Not that he was forgettable, especially after that night, but he had the feeling he had just caught her in a rare moment then with those damn walls of hers down for a brief moment.

After digging, ditching and burning the bodies Dean made his way to the motel where she was. He had hoped that she was okay, and the cure was working for the girl. A small part of him though knew that if things didn’t go right, Y/N wouldn’t hesitate to do what she needed to do.

Luckily the girl was passed out and he could smell that distinct smell of vomit lingering in the room that he was all too familiar with. Yeah, it seemed, at least for the moment, that it might have worked. Only time would let him know for sure.

After a little flirting with Y/N in the room alone, he had the urge to kiss her, but given what had just happened he wouldn’t push his luck. It had surprised him when Y/N seemed to have been thinking the same, plus a little more while dropping her shirt down to the floor. As soon as it hit him what her invitation meant, he was not going to waste a second where she might change her mind. He already had a history with things turning around on him after she disappeared in a bathroom, he was not going to chance it.

She tasted like heaven, like warm apple pie on a fall day and felt as good as silk along his skin. He didn’t even care about the shower at first, he would have gladly just taken her right there against the porcelain tiled walls. But alas, he did stink like a dead body and earth; so the water was a welcomed factor to probably not gross her out so they could continue on further with what he aches for. Her.

He wanted to take his time, make her feel everything he felt for her. To taste her fully on his lips, before rushing too much like last time. Last time was a hunger just to have feel her. This time it was a longing to know every inch of her.

Some guys say that every girl tastes the same, but some guys are idiots too. They don’t know what they are doing, what they are looking for with every flick of their tongue. Y/N? She was intoxicating. Like a drug he would never give up that was calling to him for more. Unfortunately though, shower sex, although fun at times, is typically a challenge. He was more then willing to try, but he could see that she was a little held back and apprehensive given the position she was in on the slippery floor. The bed was the best choice.

Still fueled by the lust driven animal inside, he was taken back that she wanted to go slower then before. Almost like she wanted to savor it. That is exactly what he did, and it was better than the last time. He cherished every inch of her, appreciating the snap of her hips to his to match his every move. His eyes never left her face. God she was beautiful. How the hell did he manage to be so lucky to find her and get her? Every nerve in him was on fire, burning for a release, but he didn’t want to stop. She fit together with him like a puzzle piece that had been missing. It took everything in him to hold back, but as he heard her moans of pleasure moving off of her lips, he knew he was done for.

Cuddling after sex was a rare thing that he had always secretly enjoyed. Typically it always ended the same though, with the false promises of seeing the other person again someday. As he held her close to him, breathing in her scent he promised himself that he would never let her get away. Not when it felt so right to be with her, like fate.

Home. That word she whispered out as she snuggled in closer was the right word for it. Home is where your heart is, and Dean knew his was right there in his arms lying peacefully.

He had almost forgotten about the girl until he heard a painful moan next door. He didn’t want to get up, but on the off chance that things didn’t work, he had to make sure Y/N was safe. Even after everything she had been through, she looked like she was about to fall into a blissful sleep. He didn’t want to take that away from her. She needed it.

He was just going to toss back on what he had, but Y/N was right that he didn’t exactly look like something someone would want to wake up to after going through a change like that. The sight of her getting dressed made him a little disappointed, given a few minutes he would have gladly accepted a round two. There was a little enjoyment in seeing her hold Baby’s keys in her hand, he could envision how she would look behind the wheel. Almost automatically though, he still had to give her the same speech about being careful with Baby like he did anytime Sam held the keys. Her snarky come back about how she knew what Baby meant to him because she had her own amused him, making him joke with her about the one thing he knew probably everyone else disliked, but secretly he loved because it was all her.

Watching her leave out the door, he had gotten up to check if Sam had finally woken up and called. Poor guy was running himself down trying to find answers just as much as Dean had been. There was nothing from Sam, but a voicemail from Castiel instead. Dean held up the phone to his ear, while peeking out the curtains to see what was taking Y/N so long. He could see just a glimpse of her from behind Baby’s trunk, probably discovering all the things that were kept hidden.

“Dean, I found more information on Y/N’s family. We need to talk.”

Great. That’s always good news. Not. What the hell else could there be? He hung up and tossed his phone on the bed before setting himself down. The tiredness of every moment rolling into another problem was starting to really get to him. Every time he turned around there was something new. So badly he wanted to just ignore what it could possibly be, and just take her away from everything. Just the two of them, living the apple pie life somewhere away from all the darkness in the world.

As the door opened, Dean’s heart sank when he looked at her face. Something happened. She had been all smiles before she walked out that door. It was almost like she had discovered something she didn’t want to know in an almost empty parking lot. Did she all of the sudden regret what they had done? Or was it something else? Two things he knew for certain now. First, she was no longer to go off on her own, she always came back a little more guarded and angry. Two, Dean had to know what was going on in that mind of hers. He had to try to crack through.

As soon as she redirected his question, he knew that she was hiding something. Her damn walls were up again. Yeah his track record kind of sucked when it came to relationships, but for her, he would do anything he could to make it work. There was something more than the girl next door bothering her and the fact that she didn’t want to tell him, made Dean feel hurt. He trusted her, why couldn’t she trust him?

Moving away from the room to stop himself from saying something that he would regret, feeling used, he looked upon the sleeping girl on the bed. Hell she had to have only been 19. He couldn’t help but to wonder where they had found her? Did those dickbags take her away from a family? A home? Or was she lost like so many others he had met. All questions would be answered in time, but for now he would let her rest. The world was going to be a lot different for her when the sun came out, he hoped she could handle it.

Dean had accidentally fallen asleep for what felt like only a second when he heard a door opening. Y/N came through the door, not looking like she had slept at all. She looked over to the bed while tiptoeing quietly to the other chair by Dean. He gazed at the little clock, before glancing out the curtain to the brightness of the sun. It was officially morning now.

“Did you sleep at all?” He asked, watching her look upon the still sleeping girl.

“Couldn’t really sleep,” she stated without looking at him. “The bed was uncomfortable. How is she?”

“Same,” he replied as his eyes moved over. “She hasn’t really moved much or anything.”

“Well at least that’s not a bad sign. Hopefully she will be alright. She got lucky.”

“Yeah, that she did. There’s definitely not many people in the world that would be sitting here right now playing the waiting game.”

“People suck,” she breathed out.

“I take offense to that statement,” Dean chuckled softly.

“Well, not all people,” she rolled her eyes to him with a little grin. “I just have met a lot of crappy ones in my life. Sometimes they are worse than the monsters we hunt .”

Dean was taken back for a moment, watching Y/N stare down at the ground while she spoke. Almost like she was waiting for an argument from Dean, but he had met plenty of people in his life that made some of the uglies in the world look like upstanding citizens. He suddenly remembered something she had said back in Sioux Falls, that she had then quickly turned around into another topic.

“What did you mean, last week, when we were laying together when you said that there were other ways then to kill them?”

She looked over, her mouth dropping slightly as if she was trying to figure out another way to dodge his question. She let out a deep breath, and turned fully to him, biting her lip nervously in the process.

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy…”

“I’m not the one with the fancy degrees to make that decision there Doc,” he smiled, making her let out a soft chuckle.

“Well, okay then. Um, well with being able to see their lights, I can also see their emotions in them. It has taken practice, and a lot of close calls, but I can almost... read their intentions. Some of them just want to live like the rest of us. There are plenty who didn’t have a choice like her,” she looked over again to the young girl. “There are also ones that were born into it that just didn’t know any better because it’s the life they know. Of course, there’s also the spirits just stuck in between.”

“So what do you do then,” he coaxed for her to continue.

“Well, basically monster rehab,” she shook her head with a slight scoff at herself. “There are ways around everything. For instance, I know a werewolf pack now that runs a taxidermy business in Utah that also ships out the blood to a few vampires in the area. Some ghouls become morticians and so on. There are little communities of them all around the country of people that I’ve known. All it took was a little faith in them that they could change.”

“And what if they fall off the wagon? I mean, your fighting against their very nature.”

“Yeah, I know. I keep tabs on most of them, or at least try to. There have been some that it hasn’t worked out for… but the ones who just want to go about and stay hidden usually are the ones who step in first before any hunters catch wind. Not everyone stops to ask questions before shooting,” she raised her eye to Dean.

“Yeah, I can’t say I’m always the best at that. I’m usually more cautious, but I guess if I could see it the way you do then I’d understand a little more. I mean I’ve only know a couple of things… well people, that weren’t all bad. Like this one hunter, Garth. Nice kid, but got himself bitten by a werewolf. He married one too. As far as I know he still hunts and saves others.”

“Tooth fairy Garth?” Y/N laughed softly, not trying to disturb the girl.

“Yeah,” Dean asked in perplexity while remembering how Garth had told him over a beer that he had ganked the Tooth Fairy. “How the hell do you… wait never mind, I’m just going to assume that you just know everyone I’ve ever known for now on.”

“Certainly seems that way,” Y/N sat back shaking her head. “How have we never met until now?”

“I really don’t know. It is pretty weird, but then again what part of our lives is not considered weird already?”

“Amen to that,” she said before turning her head to the shifting noise of the bed.

The young girl was waking up, her brunette hair was tousled all over her head like she just spent the last few hours on a bender. She was wiping the sleep out of her eyes as she looked to see Y/N standing up and moving to sit next to her.

“How ya feeling kid?” She asked with sincerity in her voice.

“Awful,” she groaned. “Did it… did it work?”

“You look human to me,” Y/N smiled back at her. “What’s your name?”

“Alyssa,” she replied while softening her hair down.

“Well Alyssa, I’m Y/N. That over there is Dean,” she cocked her head over to him where he flashed back a tight lipped smile. “We’re going to get you home, but first we should probably have a little chat.”

Tags: @jaylarkson @snffbeebee@iamabeautifulperson18 @19agbrown@midnightsilver @wildefire@hobby27 @sonotalice@drakelover78 @pisces-cutie @i-hear-crazy-calling-my-name

#spn spoilers #spn #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #fanfic #dean x reader #gabriel x reader #garth #gabriel #dean winchester #sam winchester #theresnoplacelikehome

26 notes · View notes