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randompandabaewrites · 2 days

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Born to Survive (2/2)

part 2 of Astarion's Romance scene in act 1

part 1 link

Astarion x f!Tav (tiefling), Canon Compliant, Explicit af

4.2k

//This one tried to kill me. Smut, angst, comfort, oh my. Game accurate dialogue up to a point. CW: Good in bed, bad at emotions. Unhealthy...everything when it comes to sex/emotions. Bad communication?? But happy ending. This is the night with Tav that changes everything for Astarion.// Song Rec: The Death of Peace of Mind by Bad Omens

Astarion’s keen ears caught the moment Tav entered the moonlit clearing.

The vampire spawn felt the familiar prickling anticipation of the game he was about to play—a dance of manipulation and survival, dressed up in the silvery light. Where he could slip into the role he was created play. The seductive predator, dangerous and irresistible.

Yet, not so much as to forfeit her faith in him.

An unfamiliar flutter stirred within the pale elf. She was just another pawn in his web. Nothing was different just because he knew her name. And he should not be secretly happy that she would survive to see the sun rise tomorrow.

Astarion ignored the rush of his long since dead heart. This was self preservation; nothing more.

This yearning for anything else was dangerous as putting a stake in her hands.

He could not afford to care how she felt about him, beyond whether or not she would protect him.

Astarion removed his jacket methodically, folding it with deliberate care. As he pulled at the laces of his white shirt, memories came unbidden—clothing pooled around ankles, ripped away from his body, discarded like they weren’t all he had to his name.

Cazador’s mocking voice sneered in his mind. Reminding him of his place. On his knees. On his back. All he was good for.

He draped his folded shirt over a low branch, silencing the heartless laugh echoing in his memory as he slid on the mask he’d donned for centuries.

Astarion’s undead heart might as well b e made of stone. There was nothing left of him but the charm he cast.

“There you are.” Astarion greeted with the hint of a purr in his voice as he stepped from behind a towering oak with a smile already curving his lips.

He let his gaze rake appreciatively over Tav’s form, gratified when her eyes darted from his face to drink in his bared chest and down his body.

The blush on her cheeks when she was caught was just…delicious.

“I’ve been waiting, waiting since the moment I set eyes on you,” Astarion soothed, gliding closer. The moonlight caressed his alabaster skin, lending him an ethereal, almost ghostly beauty.

At least, he hoped that was how he appeared, striking and seductive in the silver glow.

His prowl came to a stop merely inches from Tav, catching the hitch in her breath as she still hadn’t spoken. Thrilling him with how utterly captivated she was.

“Waiting…to have you.” he finished in a silken murmur, reaching a delicate hand to trail his cool fingers over her flushed cheek.

Suddenly, the tiefling’s eyes snapped up to meet his. Her body reanimated as she shifted from foot to foot with a slash of her tail.

“You sure, Astarion?” Tav asked, Her voice was a maddeningly gentle whisper, her brow creased with a vexing worry.

Why did she have to make this so damn difficult? Couldn’t she just enjoy what they both clearly wanted?

Instead Tav had to ask those weighted words, like she was trying disarm his every charm.

No.

He couldn’t let her pry her way under his flirtatious mask. Whatever broken, battered creature cowered behind his facade could not see the light of day. Astarion had a role to play. The lover Tav would do anything to protect.

His smile never wavered as he steered her away from anything more meaningful than their little dance now, until bairly a hair’s breadth separated their bodies.

“Don’t I have you?” he said with honey in his voice and want in his crimson eyes. “You’re here…and I don’t think you want to talk.”

Knowing her gaze was intent on him, Astarion let his focus drift down the curves of her body—taking in the way her tiefling tail betrayed her. Despite the worry on her brow, Tav’s arrant appendage curled at the tip in obvious interest.

Astarion’s charms were eroding even the hero’s defenses, as they should.

Tav’s full lips parted, and before she could voice another irritatingly perceptive question, Astarion wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling their bodies flush at last.

“I think you want to be known…to be tasted.” His breath ghosted across her skin.

Slowly, giving her time to pull away, he raised a hand to cup her cheek, caressing the fading puncture marks with his thumb.

Finally, Tav shivered at his touch. Her slit pupils went wide, and her tail curled fully to the small of her back. Just when he was about to taste her lips for the first time…she had to open her mouth.

“What do you want, Astarion?”

In his wretchedly long mockery of a life, no one had ever asked him that. No lover. No target. And certainly no master.

Why did Tav threaten to crack his facade with every damn word she said.

What did he want? Blood. Protection. Freedom. Safety.

Astarion sliced that thread before either of them could follow it too closely.

The vampire turned Tav’s head, breaking that too honest gaze, letting his lips brush her pointed ear instead. “What do any of us want? Pleasure. Yours, mine, our collective ecstasy.” He let each word drip with promise.

Her resistance finally melted away.

A smile graced that sweet mouth and her lithe form leaned into his. She reached for him at last, her hands coming to rest on his waist, and he could nearly sigh as the heat of her skin seeped into his perpetual chill.

Her touch was still too tentative for him.

Astarion captured her wrists in his long fingers, drawing her hands up along the sculpted planes of his chest to loop around his neck, ducking his head to tease his lips over hers. "

“That’s it. That’s what you want, isn’t it…to lose yourself in me?”

He wasn’t asking. It was what they always wanted. His touch. His attention. His body. All he was good for.

“Astarion…”

The vampire nearly gloated when she sighed his name—the noble tone was so weak under the want.

At last, Astarion had dragged the honorable Tav down to his level of depravity.

Her pulse thrummed wildly under his palms, betraying her at last. How badly she must want him. How he’d stripped away her suspicion and caution until only need remained.

“I thought so.” He purred with pure gratification.

Tav leaned up on her toes, pressing through the hands cupping her face, and closing the distance between their mouths.

Astarion had kissed countless lips in his time. Thousands of fleeting moments, rushed, careless, clashing, teeth and tongues.

Tav’s kiss was nothing like that.

It was warm, reverent in a way Astarion knew he did not deserve, even as he slid easily into the motions. Trying to bury her tenderness in wanton desire.

But then, Tav leaned into his palm, nuzzling her cheek into his hand, pointed fingers threading through his.

And it was such an artless, intimate gesture that suddenly threatened to choke him.

Desperate to quash this unnamed feeling before it could take root—Astarion claimed Tav’s mouth in a searing kiss. Biting her bottom lip to banish any sweetness she gave.

…

Tav could feel her pulse fluttering in her ears as Astarion caressed her every curve with effortless grace. His lips felt like they were everywhere, and his skilled tongue stoked a delicious heat within the tiefling.

She was lost to every delicate touch. His nimble fingers deftly undid the laces of her bodice, unhooking the fastenings of her trousers.

Tav hardly noticed until he was pulling her to step out of the puddle of her clothes to be pulled into the hard line of his body against hers.

His elegance was unmatched to any lover she’d had. They hardly needed to exchange—and Astarion seemed disinclined to speak at all as he lavished attention down her neck and her collarbones with his perfect mouth.

Tav was desperate. Not just for more skin-tingling touches, but to return some of the bliss he bestowed on her.

Her fingers grasped at Astarion’s silken hair, catching him for a moment so she could leave her own kisses along the chiseled line of his jaw, down the pale column of his neck.

The vampire’s throat went motionless under her mouth the lower she went. Of course, she didn’t expect to feel a fluttering pulse, but it was like he’d forgotten to breathe. Had passion erased his pretense of needing air?

Tav just wondered this as her lips reached the twin scars on his neck—and Astarion went rigid.

Her heart seized.

She overstepped, maybe reminded him of his painful past, and she had to apologize.

The words were already on her tongue, when he caught her by the chin and pulled her back.

“As much as I enjoy your affections, darling,” he purred, ruby eyes gleaming wickedly, “I have much better plans for that sweet mouth of yours.”

Then he was kissing her again, deeply, ardently. Tav whined as the points of his fangs grazed her bottom lip, sending licks of fire through her veins. He knew exactly what he was doing as he ravished her, and her awkwardness forgotten as he tried to drown her in arousal.

Nothing existed but Astarion’s clever hands, his sinful lips, and the delicious ache building between her thighs.

The awkwardness of the moment was forgotten as she clung to him. Nothing compared to the intensity of being the focus of Astarions attention. She felt ravished before he even stooped to wrap her legs around his waist, but he barely broke their kiss.

Tav eagerly complied, locking her arms around his shoulders, careful of his neck, though curling her quivering tail around his torso too.

Astarion pressed her into the rough bark of a nearby tree, his hands digging possessively into her thighs.

She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her. She was giddy with arousal, slicker still as she felt the hard length of his cock just press against her.

Gods, she needed him inside her.

“Playful little tiefling.” Astarion murmured appreciatively, his voice like dark velvet against her ear.

Tav giggled again, giving a deliberate twitch of her tail. “Well, biting is basically foreplay for my kind,” she teased, fingers threading through his curls, careful of the points of her nails as she murmured against his lips. “I shoulda warned ya, before that first little nibble by the campfire.”

If their bodies weren't so closely interlaced, their noses gently grazing each other as Astarion teasingly ground his hips into hers, stirring her eagerness for the forthcoming fervor, she may have missed the swift flicker of emotion that danced across Astarion's handsome face.

Uncertainty. Discomfort even…at being bitten? That made sense he would be cautious of the reminder—but the expression was gone in a blink. Replaced with a roguish grin.

“Is that so? Then you’ve already surrendered yourself to me.”

Oh, how damn cocky could a man be?

Sure, he was turning her to a mess just rutting against her. But Tav arched a brow. “I can’t just…let you win.”

The tiefling simpered, even as she tilted her head to the side, baring the tantalizing line of her throat. Showing off the fading bite.

That bright ruby gaze darkened, rivited, zeroed in on her fluttering pulse. He leaned in, fangs bared, as she slid her tail away from him.

In flick of her tail, Tav leveraged herself off of the tree, sending them both tumbling into the soft grass.

She landed atop him, legs caging his hips, grinning at his startled expression.

“Gotcha.”

To Tav’s surprise and delight, a warm and genuine laugh burst from Astarion’s lips. His eyes sparkled with an inner light, bright and unreserved in a way she’d never seen from him before. Tav was transfixed by just the glimpse of raw, unguarded emotion on his face.

The spell couldn’t last forever.

Astarion’s hands seized her hips, using his vampiric strength and speed to flip Tav onto her back, pinning her into the grass.

Her air escaped in a huff as he captured her wrists and pressed them into the ground, rendering her wonderfully helpless.

“Alright, alright, I yield!” Tav laughed breathlessly, squirming only half-heartedly in his stone grip. “You win.”

Still smiling, she tipped her head back, baring her throat in surrender—eliciting a low, greedy sound from Astarion. This time, he did not hesitate.

Hot, stinging pleasure burst through her blood as the vampire’s fangs sank into her skin. She shivered, happily helpless, under the icy ecstasy of his bite. His body leaned heavily and perfectly into the cradle of hers.

His long fingers came around to cushion her head, just as the first night he fed from her. Tav hardly noticed when Astarion released her wrists, other than she could dreamily slide her fingers into his white curls. On instinct, she brushed the pads of her thumbs along the tender points of his ears.

Astarion startled in her hold.

A blissful sound echoed against her throat, and the twin points of pain disappeared as his focus wavered. He pulled back from her, crimson lingering on his lips.

“Elves and their ears.” Tav answered his unasked question, repeating the gentle stroke to prove her point, gratified when he was the one to give a shudder. “Shall I stop?”

“Don’t you dare,” Astarion growled playfully, before diving back down to reclaim her lips. She teased his gorgeous ears as long as he would allow, before he seemed to remember himself—and pulled back with a darker gaze.

“Let me show you my favorite trick.” He purred, kissing a trail down her heated body. Lavishing attention on her breasts before settling between her thighs like he belonged there.

His strong, elegant hands curled under her hips, lifting her soaking folds to his wickedly talented tongue.

The first stroke across her clit had Tav arching with a cry, sparks igniting behind her eyelids. Astarion was relentless, laving and suckling with single-minded focus, devouring her pussy like he hungered for nothing else. His clever fingers slid into her, thrusting and curling with unerring accuracy.

He was overwhelming in the most delightful way.

“Astarion,” Tav gasped, half a sob in her throat. Her fingers tangled in his hair. Pleasure was building inside her like a cresting wave until she thought she might shatter from it.

Just as the peak crashed over her, Tav’s tail curled adoringly around Astarion’s arm, the spaded tip digging into his bicep. Astarion groaned against her, the sound reverberating through her pussy—until she was trembling in the grass.

“Darling…I am not finished with you yet.” his breath was panting against his thigh, his lips shining with her slick in the moonlight.

His eyes burned into hers as he lowered his mouth back to her, drawing a feral whimper from her mouth. He worked her through the aftershocks with his lips and mouth and the edge of his teeth—then built her back up again, drawing every ounce of pleasure from the tiefling’s body until she was left boneless and blissed out.

By the time Tav found her voice again, she’d lost count of how many times he’d made her come.

“Astarion,” she rasped. “Please. I need you.”

In a flash, he was over her, the blunt head of his cock nudging against her entrance.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said with that damnable roguish grin.

Then he was sliding into her, hard and thick and perfect, and Tav could only hang on as he took her apart all over again. She was so sensitive, the pleasure bordering on pain, that it only took a few deep strokes before she was clenching around him, keening her release.

Astarion swallowed the sound with his mouth, kissing her deeply as he continued to move within her. Tav felt owned, treasured, utterly consumed by the brilliant creature in her arms. In that moment, she would have happily let him devour her whole.

…

Astarion thrust into her with smooth, measured strokes, the perfect rhythm to draw out her satisfaction. His face was buried in the crook of her neck as he murmured filthy praises against her skin, just as he was supposed to.

“You are so terribly intoxicating, my love. So perfectly wrapped around me. Like you were made just to undo me.”

Tav was a mess under him, her careful words lost to the sensation of him moving inside her. Her limbs tangled around him and she tried to pull him down for a kiss.

Astarion evaded her lips, lavishing attention on her throat instead. Letting his mind slip away again.

It wasn’t long before she was clenching around him again, shuddering through another intense climax. Astarion worked her through it, then gradually slowed his pace. When Tav finally resurfaced, sated and pliant in his arms.

Just where he needed her to be.

“Fuck,” she sighed, pressing the heel of her palm over her eyes as she still caught her breath. He slid from her still quivering body, though she still clung to him with her curled tail.

“I shall take that as a compliment.” He chuckled at her side, pressing his lips to the skin before her ear.

“Astarion, did you…?”

The vampire tensed almost imperceptibly before pulling back to look at her, a practiced smile curving his lips.

“I was, concentrating…you had me captivated, darling.” He glossed over. It was easy to ignore his own ache, and most of his conquests were happy to let him. “Brilliant, beautiful thing you are.”

Astarion eased, pressing her back into the grass. He sat up, resting on his bent knee, as he let himself detachment from the moment.

Tav's frown caught his attention as she studied him from where she was still laid back in the moonlit grass. “Hey, is everything okay? I want to make you feel good, too.”

Her words took him by surprise. Make him feel good? That simply didn’t factor into any script he played in someone else’s bed.

His mouth opened and closed in silent confusion before he shook off the disorientation.

"I...no, everything’s fine. Wonderful, in fact. You’ve been perfect, darling," he responded smoothly. Astarion couldn’t pull his mask into place. Weak, vulnerable, aching—confused as to what he should do next.

But there was no dungeon to draw her towards. No master to turn her over to. Tav was not a target. What was he meant to do?

Astarion laid back, wondering if he should feign exhaustion. Until Tav fell asleep and he could slip away.

With a gentle smile, and a little unsteady as she rose, Tav slid her hands up Astarion’s chest to frame his face. “Let me concentrate on you now,” she murmured, shifting until she was straddling his hips again.

He clung to her waist on instinct, but didn’t grip hard enough to stop her from moving over him.

“Is that alright, Astarion?”

She kept saying his name, drawing his eyes back to hers, to the want in hers that was more than want.

The warmth was overwhelming.

“Yes,” He agreed, hearing his own breathless assent. Telling himself it was just to be relieved of that adoring look in her eyes.

Tav drew him along her palm, sinking down on his hardness inch by heavenly inch.

Astarion gasped gently. For once, he seemed at a loss for words, ruby eyes wide and locked on hers as she began to move.

Undulating slowly, Tav leaned in to capture his lips, kissing him deeply, reverently.

His own mouth was…hesitant. The way she kissed him, the way she kissed, the way she moved, dragged that unbidden yearning from somewhere deep inside him.

Like his first taste of her neck, something about this felt forbidden. Too rich for his blood.

But then Astarion was kissing Tav back feverishly, sitting up to tangle one hand in her hair to hold her close. Like he was starving all over again.

Tav kept the pace languid, letting Astarion savor every slide and press, her pussy quivering around him still. He’d thought he’d worn her out so thoroughly—but she persisted.

She peppered kisses across his angular cheekbones, the corner of his mouth, his temples. Astarion shuddered beneath her, a soft whimper escaping him as she rolled her hips just so.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Tav crooned. “Just feel. Let go for me.”

Time seemed to slip from him yet again—but he felt every breath against his lips, her forehead pressed to his with agonizing sweetness. Her fingers curled into the hair at the base of his neck, and he clung to her in turn.

Astarion felt his body stiffen involuntarily, a flicker of apprehension. His armor trying to snap back into place, one last ditch attempt to wall him off.

“Tav…” his voice was a broken plea.

Her relentless warmth ceased every vulnerability in him. Her arms wrapped around him, shielding out the rest of the world, the rest of his thoughts.

Those damnable eyes with unwavering affection as they locked onto his.

"I've got you," Tav murmured with a fervor that echoed through him. "You're so good, Astarion."

Her words sent him spiraling into the abyss with a ragged gasp as his climax washed over him, spilling deep within her.

Astarion could feel her arms drawing him closer, her fingers threading through his curls and whispering praises and reassurances that seeped into his dead marrow.

He clung to her desperately, hiding himself in the crook of her neck as he was the one to tremble.

In this moment, stripped bare of all pretenses and disguises he wore. All Astarion could do was cling tighter to Tav, hoping that she could feel even a sliver of the affection and reverence that burned within him.

Astarion watched her as she lay back, unable to rip his eyes away or compose his face in to something prettier.

She laughed breathlessly, but the elf remained still, waiting. Bracing himself for the inevitable withdrawal, for her warmth to leave him bereft and alone once more.

That part of the script was surely still intact.

They took their pleasure, then cast him aside. Or worse.

But Tav did neither.

She nestled close, resting her head on his chest with a contented sigh. Astarion glanced down at her, watching the way her fingers idly traced invisible patterns on his cool skin. The casual intimacy of it made his throat tighten.

After a moment, Tav lifted her gaze to his, a playful smile curving her kiss-swollen lips. “Not much for cuddling after?” she teased gently, but she was already lifting herself off of him.

Astarion huffed a laugh, hoping it masked the confused tangle of emotions her tenderness evoked. “It’s not exactly my forte.”

He should be using his glib charm to get them back to camp, saying they should get some sleep. But with Tav...he hesitated. Loath to break this fragile, unfamiliar spell between them.

As if sensing his inner turmoil, Tav shifted to lay her head in the grass beside him, relinquishing her claim on his space.

But as her warmth and weight left him, Astarion felt strangely bereft. Unmoored. His hand darted out to catch hers, lacing their fingers together as he turned to face her.

Tav’s ever-radiant smile dawned across her face. She squeezed his hand gently, like it was the most precious thing she’d ever held. “This okay?” she asked softly.

Slowly, deliberately, she brought his knuckles to her lips, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of his hand. Like he was the prey she feared startling.

Tav slid their joined hands up to rest over Astarion’s still heart, her expression open and tender in a way that made his breath catch.

Astarion swallowed hard to gain even a tenuous control. “More than,” he managed, voice rough with everything he couldn’t quite say.

Tav smiled at him, and those bright eyes held nothing—no guile, no ulterior motive. Only affection and a hint of something that looked dangerously close to…adoration.

It terrified him even as some long-dormant part of his soul ached for more.

“Good,” he breathed at last, barely recognizing his own voice.

As he slid his arm around Tav’s shoulders, pulling her back to his chest beneath the star-strewn sky, a sudden realization hit him with the force of a charging bulette.

In all his long existence, he had never spent the night with a lover. Had never wanted to. But now, with Tav a warm, trusting weight in his arms, he found himself hoping desperately that this wouldn’t be the last time.

There would be time to figure this out later, he told himself. To untangle the confusing snarl of warmth and want and unspoken yearning twisting beneath his ribs.

And yet, as Tav’s breathing gradually slowed and deepened with the onset of sleep, Astarion discovered that there was nowhere in all the realms he’d rather be.

Perhaps, just this once, he could let himself have this. Could dare to imagine a future beyond mere survival.

#Oh I need a nap #Put me through the ringer #But also proud of this #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #baulders gate 3 #astarion smut #astarion ancunin #bg3 #tav #astarion x female tav #Astarion x Tiefling #Tiefling Tav #tav bg3 #Canon comp #astarion fic #Astarion angst

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blacklegsanjiii · 2 days

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Some hcs about ASL x S! Of course, if you don't mind

• Even if the ASL brothers loved food, I think they just noticed how hard cooking was after seeing Sanji cook. How some recipes need hours and hours, how even a little mistake can spoil all the food, how that don't matter how good you are cooking, accidents still happen and Sanji end up with some cuts and burns. Sometimes Sanji even needing to put bandages in his hands.

• I believe most times ASL and Garp go at Baratie, the restaurant is closed or Zeff closes it when they arrive. So they never saw all the chaos that Baratie is on common days. I can perfectly see a time where the restaurant docks at Foosha and ASL go see their boyfriend, but Baratie is open and he's working. So they sit and don't have other option than just wait. It's crazy for them how Sanji manages to go between being a waiter and a cook, take down various customer orders and remember what food go at what table, carry twenty-odd dishes at once, and still having just a fifteen minutes break.

• This hc is more for Fem!Sanji, but I believe that Sanji was taught that she should be a lady, always with a smile and sweet personality. And while she IS this way naturally, she isn't just this. So I believe that, after Germa, she would still hide half of herself as a way to protect her. The more you knows her, the more she shows all of her. And I can see Sanji freely acting like a little shit while with ASL because she trusts them, even more after dating. They don't notice this until someone point this, maybe Makino, and after noticing they just start to help her show who she is in full.

ASL x S has taken over this blog in veins similar to when Warlord!Sanji first happened which is fine by me. Get this man some love!

I feel like if Sanji was dating them when he was learning how to butcher things they would see him constantly with bandages on his hands. Burns from morons not telling him hot pans as well as his own dumb mistakes. Sanji shows them some basic recipes and how to cook more effectively on a fire and burning himself. He stares dejectedly at the fire and with an 'et tu, brute' attitude as he continues on like nothing bad happened. Sanji fucks something up and sighs as he apologizes at the inedibility of it but his boyfriends scarf it down regardless. Sanji is used to his boyfriends forgoing taste for edibility on more than one occasion unless Sanji absolutely demands they do not eat something for fear of poisoning them all.

One time The Baratie is docked on Foosha with normal business hours, not closing due to the boyfriends or Garp coming to eat, ASL go to surprise their boyfriend but instead find an absolute shitshow of a rush. Waiters are scrambling and there's a lot of yelling from the back kitchen and those who know ASL tell them they don't have time for them today. Sanji will be out if he's awake after close. There's just too much happening and not enough staff and they're fucking swamped. Then Sanji joins in on waiting tables because there's not enough waiters and he's going back and forth in a chef coat from waiting tables to cooking and he's so loud. The way he yells 'behind', 'to your left/right' 'hot' with a projection they've only ever heard from Garp of all people is rattling. They sit and watch through the rush until close and join in on cleaning up, mostly Sabo makes Ace and Luffy join in because they've never cleaned a day in their life but the staff is grateful and Zeff does make them something to eat with the staff of Baratie. Of course everyone is so wiped out that Ace carries Sanji to his room and he's out before they're even halfway there. Sabo and Ace are debating on getting Sanji changed when Luffy just lays on top of him and falls asleep making it impossible to change their boyfriend, so of course they pile on top as well.

Okay now Fem!Sanji being a shit. This has to be accurate. Being raised a princess and then as Zeff's daughter has to make perfectly lady like but also...look at the men she's around on the Baratie. She's pulled some shit and always gets away with it because she's Zeff's darling daughter, she would never do anything like choke Patty with his own socks, never! ASL know what she's like though, she's a gremlin like them, not as feral but definitely a gremlin. Makino has definitely seen the attitude shift from when Zeff is gone and she's free and clear to not have to worry about getting in trouble for getting dirty and acting like a child. She's free with them. Makino probably brings it up to them at some point, the way Sanji morphs from Zeff's princess to jungle gremlin like them, she's absolutely fond of the girl and it's clear in her voice, but they pay closer attention after that, or at least try to. Sanji doesn't like getting dirty or bugs but she loves climbing and swimming in the river and doing dumb shit with her boyfriends. Maybe they try to get her to be more brash and open, but she's still theirs. Always will be.

#black leg sanji #monkey d. luffy #portgas d ace #revolutionary sabo #vinsmoke sanji #fire fist ace #sabo one piece #asl+s #they all date!sanji #answers

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prentissluvr · 19 hours

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something about being close — sam winchester

pairing : s.2!sam winchester x gn!reader, featuring platonic dean ➖⟢ genre : angst, fluff, ➖⟢ cw : sam and reader are lovingly mean to each other, bad insults (weird, stupid, lame), bad jokes, swearing, canon typical violence and ghosts, arguing, so much kissing, could be ooc but idc, edited but most likely still contains a few mistakes, single usage of y/n ➖⟢ wc : 9.5K summary : sam is acting weird, and when it puts people in danger, you can't let it slide (despite the fact that you're totally in love with him).

“hey, check this out,” sam calls to you and dean, not bothering to look up from his computer screen. “think we found our violent spirit.” you part from your own research without a single qualm, resting a hand on the back of sam’s chair as he leans back for you and dean to get a better look. “marissa hancock. she was a student at the college, died a violent death there, just like we thought. it’s thought that the janitor impaled her with his mop while he was working in her dorm hall, but he was never put away for lack of evidence.”

“explains the janitor kabob,” dean quips, already headed to shrug on his jacket.

“easy solve,” you admit. it only took a solid half hour of searching through records to find the right murder. “but why’s she killing now? she’s had, what?” you lean further over sam’s shoulder to inspect the record, “fifty some years to be killing janitors, why start now?”

“dunno,” sam shrugs, and you can feel his shoulder brush against you, reminding you how close he is. doing your best to stay casual and maybe not stare longingly at his pretty face from this close up, you straighten your back and go to grab your own jacket as sam types away on his keyboard. “looks like her original murderer died two weeks ago.”

“right when the killings started,” dean finishes. “alright, let’s go. you got where she’s buried, sam?”

“yep,” he stands, shutting his laptop. “saint mercy cemetery, not too far.”

“hm,” you laugh out, “second saint mercy cemetery this month. people need to get more creative,” you note as you exit the motel room and head down the short hallway to get to the impala.

“and what would you name a cemetery?” dean asks, ready to catch you off guard or tease you for anything he can get his hands on.

“i should have thought of a clever answer before saying that,” you admit, “but i do wish it were socially acceptable to call them dead people neighborhoods.”

“that’s lame,” sam grins, throwing his arm around your shoulders for just about two seconds before he has to let go to get through the small doorway and outside.

“c’mon,” you complain, “i know it’s kind of lame, and definitely insensitive, but imagine someone just asked you where you’re headed after work and you get to tell them you’re going to the dead people neighborhood. cemetery’s no fun, at least dead people neighborhood is accurate.” you close the back door of the car behind you as you settle in to punctuate your point.

“you’re weird,” sam teases in a matter-of-fact tone, not even looking back from the passenger's seat to see the sneer on your face.

“no, you’re weird,” you fire back.

“alright, kids,” dean interrupts, “enough bickering like we’re four, we’ve got a job to do,” he snickers as he backs the car up.

“okay, dean,” you and sam chime, voices full of mocking and almost totally in sync. dean rolls his eyes hard, because it’s just one of those days where the two of you can’t stop feeding into the antics of the other, regressing the combined mental age of the three of you by at least twenty years.

having known the brothers since you were kids through bobby, and starting to hunt with them about a year and a half ago, you’ve certainly grown close with the both of them. but a little closer in age, you and sam are nothing but two peas in a pod. and much to dean’s chagrin, that means it only takes a split second for the two of you to switch things up and turn against him when he tries to break up your banter. it’s pretty much all loving argumentation, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying as all hell for whoever has to witness it.

“and for the record, i like dead people neighborhood,” dean offers, ignoring your moment of synchronicity with sam.

“yes!” you celebrate, reaching around the seat in front of you to lightly hit sam’s shoulder. “you’re the lame one, you’re no fun.”

he scoffs, mumbling something to himself about how, “of course dean likes dead people neighborhood. it’s stupid.”

you resist the urge to tell him that he’s stupid, and instead follow dean’s direction to focus on the case.

“hold on, dean. you should drop me off on campus first, one of us should make sure another janitor doesn’t fall on his mop handle before we can burn the bones,” you suggest.

“no.”

your brow furrows at how fast sam shuts you down, his serious tone a harsh contrast to his practically whiny mumble moments before. you glance at dean to see that he’s got his own eyebrows raised in confusion.

“what’d’you mean, ‘no’?” you question.

“i mean,” he clears his throat as if he’s just realized his strong denial was awkward, “that that could be dangerous alone, so i’ll go and you can stick with dean.”

you send a bewildered look to dean, one he doesn’t catch trying to pay attention to the street name up ahead. “i’m sorry, are you suggesting i can’t handle a measly ghost?” mostly you’re confused by sam’s words, but you can’t help letting a bit of offense slip into your voice.

“n-no, no that’s not what i’m saying,” he fumbles, trying to fix what he said, “i meant– i meant it would be safer for anyone not to go alone. so– so i’ll go with you and dean can stick with burning the body.”

it’s a clumsy, bad save that’s entirely unconvincing.

“you’re seriously gonna stick me with grave digging duty?” dean grunts, “y/n’s right, it’s just one ghost, we don’t need two of us to deal with it. digging up a grave is arguably harder.”

“exactly,” you reason, “which is why i should go scope out the dorm hall, and you should go with dean to the dead people neighborhood.”

“she’s buried in a family mausoleum,” counters sam, “her grave doesn’t need to be dug up, which means it’s a one person job, and since there could be an actual violent ghost in the dorm, two people should go. and don’t try to make dead people neighborhood a thing, at the very least it’s too long, not to mention it’s not funny.”

despite the fact that he’s teasing you, you’re glad to hear something normal come out of his mouth. his hesitancy to let you take on the ghost is odd, especially considering the ghost might not show up at all. it’s not like he’s never been protective of you, it’s in both his and certainly dean’s nature. but he knows full well that you are completely capable of handling one violent ghost, and he’s been weird like this for the past two weeks.

you laugh when you admit, “it wasn’t quite as good in context as i thought it would be, but it wasn’t that bad, i’m just tryna to stick with my bit,” you defend, “and fine, two people at the dorms, one on dead person arson.”

“are you serious?” sam laughs, halfheartedly tossing his head back to give you a judgemental look through the corner of his eye.

“dead serious, pun absolutely intended,” you let out a full laugh at the strangled sigh he lets out. oh how you love to rile him up with bad jokes. “you’re too easy, sam. for that, i’m sticking you on grave duty. dean and i will handle the dorm.”

“you should be on grave duty, for all the bad jokes today,” he argues.

dean practically growls in annoyance, “how about i go on grave duty, so i can get away from your annoying asses.” it’s not a suggestion, and the both of you huff out a sigh, but don’t argue.

dean drops you off a little ways from the dorm hall for you to grab a shotgun and salt rounds with less of a chance of being seen. you leave the other shotgun for dean just in case, bothered that yours is still broken from the last hunt. there hadn’t been enough time to fix it yet. so, you grab an iron rod, hoping to use that before any guns on a college campus. it’d be a sticky situation to get out of, being caught with shotguns in a dorm, and at the very least incredibly inconvenient to scare the hell out of a bunch of college aged kids at eleven pm. sam sticks the shotgun under his jacket, generally hiding it from the view of anyone not looking too closely.

walking a few minutes, you find the right dorm hall and sam hands the gun off to you to pull out his lock pick. but, glancing behind you, you shove the gun back into his hands and yank him into you.

“the hell?” he resists for a split second before you quickly interrupt him.

“shut up! hide the gun and act like you’re piss drunk. someone’s coming,” you hiss. in a swift movement, he tucks the gun back under his jacket as you shimmy the iron rod into your sleeve, then he swings his free arm around you, practically dropping half of his weight on you. “dude,” you complain, before falling into character. “sammy, come on!” you whine loudly. “i can’t reach my id with you like this,” you pretend to feel around for something in your back pocket while keeping him standing, and he immediately picks up on what you’re trying to do. he stumbles forward so that you have to use both hands to keep him upright, and you curse at your false struggle. “help me out here, sammy, will you?” you try to make your voice sound overly desperate, maybe a little innocent too, “why don’t you lean against the wall so we can get inside,” you beg, trusting sam to play his part well.

“nooo,” he slurs, dragging the word out in a whiny pitch, “don’t wanna.” he turns into you and haphazardly wraps his lanky arm all the way around your form, tugging you to him and nearly knocking the both of you over. you feel heat rush to your cheeks at this and desperately remind yourself that he’s only pressing his face into your neck so that he can get a look at the person approaching and keep the shotgun well hidden from view.

you see the girl out of the corner of your eye, young and clearly a student headed for the dorm.

“oh, thank god!” you exclaim, “hey, i’m so sorry to bother you, but do you think you could open the door for us?” you ask as sweetly as you can, pulling your eyebrows together to gain sympathy, before adding on a humorous tone, “my boyfriend is stupid drunk and i can’t get us inside.” you can feel sam stiffen for a split second at your words, and you yourself wonder if you should have just gone the “friend” route for the sake of your own sanity. you’re going to want to keep calling sam your boyfriend, over and over again.

“oh my god, of course,” she laughs goodnaturedly, and you thank the lord she’s laid back, rather than some uptight rule follower ready to report you to administration. she swipes her id and holds the door open for you, and as you struggle into the building, you think that sam is making this harder for you than it has to be. but there’s absolutely no denying you love the way it feels to just have him all over you, even for the sake of illegally entering a building with a gun.

“thank you so much,” your voice is one big sigh of relief, slightly muffled by the fabric of sam’s jacket.

“yeah, don’t worry about it,” she smiles, “you two are super cute, by the way,” she compliments before turning towards the stairs and waving a kind goodbye.

you do your best to not stumble over your words as you thank her, heat once again rising to your face, and you’re sure that sam can feel the warmth of your neck. body stiff, you turn and head down the hallway in the opposite direction, sam still clinging to you until it’s clear.

“alright, get off, you big dork,” you snort, gently pushing him away and doing your best to regain your composure to proceed as if you don’t have a massive crush on him. “did ya have to make it so hard for me?”

he shrugs with a sly grin, “had to make it convincing, didn’t i? besides, it was your idea, you don’t get to complain.”

you stick your tongue out at him and he raises his eyebrows as if to say, “really?”

“she was really nice,” you note, voice almost wistful in a way that sam easily picks up on. about a year into hunting with the brothers and dean was off buying food, you and sam had collapsed onto a motel bed together as you had many times before by then, both exhausted after a long case. that night, as you spoke in tired, hushed tones, with no need for anyone but the other to hear your words, you had somehow ended up with your head resting on his biceps and one of his legs swung over yours.

that’s the night you told him you were jealous that he got to go to college, even if it wasn’t for long. you’d told him how you liked the idea of that life, even if you had to return to hunting after it was over. you wanted friends your age, to learn, go to stupid parties and have a college partner. you knew the experience wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, but you wanted it anyway. he’d said, sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than hunting in his opinion. he wanted you to have that. once this was all over, and you both got justice for your families, he’d help you apply, make sure you got in somewhere, maybe even go with you. a hush fell over the room and he knew you weren’t convinced.

“yeah, she was,” he says, his own voice a touch more gentle than moments ago. “we were lucky.” he doesn’t want to tell you that most college kids would be at least cool enough to let you inside, maybe not as friendly as her, but that it’s true you’d like it here. he doesn’t want to remind you of what you can’t have.

a silence falls over the two of you, punctuated only by the shuffling of your feet or the rustle of clothes. it’s comfortable and easy because you’ve done it a million times before. you don’t have to say anything to agree that you’ll head to the basement where the original murder occured. the both of you stay quiet and light on your feet, sam always peering around corners before rounding them.

in the basement he stops you with a simple finger to his lips. he leans in close to whisper as quietly as he can, “janitor’s here.”

you resist the urge to call said janitor an idiot, because who the hell is going to be cleaning an area in which three of your coworkers have mysteriously died in the past two weeks, but you just nod instead, taking in the way that sam’s eyes look under the dim light.

“wanna wait around til dean calls or warn him?” you ask, equally as quiet. he turns his head to look back around the corner before continuing.

“well, we should warn him, but we can’t use the drunk ruse on an employee. he probably has a radio scanner on him, might even be connected to campus security,” he points out.

“fbi?”

“we look too much like college kids right now,” he reasons.

“right,” you agree, “well then, stupid college kids trying to see a murder scene? we’ll link arms and you can hide the gun behind your back. just so we’re near him til dean burns the bones. hopefully nothing’ll even happen.” it’s as if you jinxed it all in that moment, as the lights immediately begin to flicker, the buzz of electricity filling your ears and a sudden chill filling the air. “nevermind,” you curse, flicking the iron rod back into your hand and barging around the corner, only a hair behind sam.

“way to jinx it,” he grunts.

you just scoff and beg him, “just try not to use the gun.” this time neither of you attempt to hide your presence as your shoes pound against the tile floor.

“no promises,” sam says, the gun up and loaded in front of him.

“what the hell?” the janitor barely has the time to exclaim before he’s thrown against the wall.

“i got it,” you warn sam, eager to avoid gunshots and sprinting full speed towards the apparition, iron rod in front of you. you throw all your weight into reaching the ghost of the young girl before she can flicker out of reach. the iron in your hand makes contact, and she evaporates for the time being. unfortunately for you, your momentum keeps you going, through the space the ghost just occupied and straight into the section of the floor slick with soapy water. with no time to gain any semblance of your balance, you slip and come crashing to the ground. your back hits the floor and the wind gets knocked out of your lungs in the same moment that the iron skitters out of your hand.

you struggle a bit to sit up due to the wetness underneath you, gasping slightly and letting curses fall from your mouth the moment you can speak again.

in a split second reaction, sam shouts your name, his voice inappropriately taught and worried for such a silly accident. he’s by your side in an instant, strong hands pulling you up and his anxious voice asking if you’re alright. you wave him off easily, unconcerned for yourself.

“help him,” you urge, “i’m fine.” but he doesn’t back off nearly as easily as you’d think.

“are you sure, did you hit your head? you couldn’t breathe for a second there,” his hands stay glued to you as he rattles off his concerns, ones that you find utterly unnecessary and unhelpful considering the fact that you’re fine, and the ghost could reappear any second. his strong grip keeps you from bending down to scoop up the iron rod, but you have to wrench yourself away from him when you hear a strangled cry come from the janitor. he whirls around with you to see the ghost with her hands around the janitor’s neck, crushing him against the wall as his feet dangle just above the floor. the iron rod is back in your hand in an instant, but sam’s shotgun lays abandoned on the floor a few feet away.

he dives for the weapon, but with a flick of the ghost’s hand, he’s knocked against the wall with a noise so loud it hurts to hear. before she can pay you attention, you fling the iron towards her, vaporizing her once more. the iron clatters to the ground as the janitor collapses to his knees. you rush towards him, pulling him away from the wall before tugging a container of salt from your jacket’s inside pockets. apologetically, you haul the poor man to his feet, throwing a quick look over your shoulder at sam. he’s groaning painfully, but already moving to get back up.

knowing he’s easily survived worse, you turn your attention back to the janitor, who’s sputtering out confused and incoherent questions about what in the goddamn hell is happening.

“just stay there,” you urge him, too pressed for time to add adequate sympathy to your tone. “stay in the circle and she can’t get you.” with practiced ease, you shake the salt onto the ground with barely enough to make a small, solid ring around the man.

you scoop up the gun from the ground, then turn to help sam onto his feet. “we’re gonna have to tough this out til dean gets done,” is all you say when you place the weapon into his hands, despite the urge to ask what the hell is wrong with him and why he’s so off his game. you turn to grab your own weapon, but it seems the ghost is reappearing faster and faster. this time, you’re the one who gets tossed into the wall, but you stay pressed against the cold surface as a mop flies to meet you, the long handle pushing against your throat and cutting off your air supply. you take in a strangled gasp, hands clawing at the old wooden handle and giving yourself a few splinters that you couldn’t care less about in the moment. of course, it doesn’t budge.

the second you’re flattened against the wall, sam shouts your name again, this time with his gun in the air, swinging around to get a shot at the ghost. but before he can react, it flies out of his hand and she reappears right in front of him, pushing him against the wall across from you.

he struggles against her wildly, his hand itching to get free of her hold to reach the hidden iron knife in his pocket. but before he can get there, her grip weakens and she lets out a strangled scream as she bursts into flames. the flames climb up her old fashioned pencil skirt and swallow up the bloody wound in her abdomen. her grip on you and sam falters as she burns away, then dissolves completely as the last of her ashes fade out into the musty basement air.

you drop to your knees, coughing and gasping for breath as the sound of the mop clattering to the floor echoes through the hallway. sam’s saying your name, half through a cough and his voice still so worried as he stumbles towards you. then he’s on his knees too and his hands are sturdy on your shoulders.

“‘m fine,” you rasp out, hand reaching for his bicep to ground you to something solid and steady. he stays right there, completely ignoring the poor man who’s still practically frozen in fear in the tiny circle of salt and the ringing of his phone. one of his hands slips around you to rub soothing strokes up and down your back and it brings you even closer to him, your forehead dipping to rest on his shoulder. you feel silly for how much he’s fussing over you, but you can’t quite scold or question him until you’ve caught your breath. clearly something is bothering him (and you want him so bad), so you let him hold you close.

“are you hurt anywhere?” he finally asks once he feels your breathing even out under his touch.

you pull away from him gently, shaking your head before verbally confirming, “no, i’m alright sam. nothing more than your typical bumps and bruises.” your voice is a touch raspy from the pressure on your throat, but it’s nothing that won’t go away with some water and rest, maybe some tea if really necessary.

his hands stay on you as he stands. “are you sure?” he asks, and you can’t figure out why on earth, heaven, or hell he’s so overly concerned about you. frankly, it’s starting to worry you. and definitely annoy you. all the sudden he’s acting like you’re fragile, like you can’t take care of yourself. things which he should know for a fact aren’t true.

he lets you slip away from his hold as you swoop down to pick up your lost weapons and face the poor janitor.

“sorry about that all. you can step out of the salt now.” he looks at you as if he can’t be sure, and your tone softens a bit. he’s young, probably just a college kid himself. “she’s really gone this time, i promise. you won’t ever have to worry about her again. though, i wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to look for a different job.”

he nods and thanks you, and you tell him to repay the favor by not mentioning you and sam. then, at a pace you certainly can’t blame him for, he scurries away.

“c’mon,” you nod to sam, “we should get out of here. you should also call dean back. he’s probably worried you didn’t answer.” with that, you turn back in the direction of the stairs without looking back at sam, rolling your eyes when your own cell ring. you pick up with a, “we’re fine, dean,” before he can even ask why the hell it took you so long to answer him. he lets out a sigh, half relieved, half annoyed.

“what took ya so long?” he asks anyway.

“had a few bumps in the road since little miss janitor-killer showed up, but we’re fine. neither of us are hurt. would’ya pick us up in the same spot you left us?”

“yeah, ‘course. already on my way, see you crazy kids in five.” with that, he hangs up and you don’t have to glance over your shoulder to feel sam following behind. it’s all just the familiarity of his footsteps, the sound they make, and the pace at which he walks. it’s the particular rustle of his favorite jacket, soft and scratchy sounding all at once. it’s the feeling of his tall figure, his broad chest so close behind you that he’d run right into you if you stopped even for a moment. you debate whether to ask him what the hell is up now or at the motel. for now, the priority is getting out unnoticed, so you clench your jaw a bit and continue in silence because you’re beginning to feel a little angry with him. you think he can feel it, so he stays quiet too, all the way out the dorm and down the street to wait for dean.

it’s not uncommon to be quieter after a hunt is finished because you’re all usually tired and more often than not achey from some toss around or another. but sam can tell there’s something else bothering you tonight. from the way you tilt your shoulder away from him, the distance so nearly imperceptible that only he would notice, he’s willing to bet that he’s that something. and though he doesn’t want to admit it, he thinks he knows why. he just won’t be the first one to say something about it because he’s stubborn, a little prideful, and most of all, too afraid to explain why he’s acting this way.

even so, he just can’t help himself. he hovers near, so near that once you’re settled by the side of the road, you can feel him without actually touching him. you’re tempted to nudge him away, just because of how overprotective he’s acting. you’re also tempted to lean back into his chest because somehow you know his hands wouldn’t waste a second in gathering you up and keeping you closer than ever before. it starts to rain a little bit, soft and almost unnoticable if it weren’t for the new chill in the air. for a moment, you can feel one hand hover over your waist, just for a second before there’s a light swish of fabric when it falls back to his side. you wonder if he’s worried about you getting too cold.

you hear dean before you see him, the rumble of the impala coming into earshot moments before its headlights appear around the corner. the car slows as it nears you, pulling to the side of the road with the front windows down and some classic rock guitar riff filtering into your ears. the music’s quieter than you know it was just moments ago from when dean was alone. he greets you two with a simple, “hey,” once he’s fully stopped and you place your hand out, palm up and wordlessly asking for sam to hand you the rifle to put in the trunk.

“i got it,” he says, not waiting for you to argue when he takes the iron from the loose grip of your fist and makes his way to the trunk. you slide into the back seat behind the passengers side and return dean’s greeting.

he twists in his seat to watch you as you close your eyes and massage your shoulder with a wince. it’s beginning to become more sore, just like all the rest of your body.

“you okay?” he asks, voice full of his normal gruffness that tells you cares enough to ask but knows not to be too worried.

you open your eyes back up to give him a nod. “‘m fine. just the usual ghost beat down. y’know, bumps and bruises.”

“mm, sure do,” he agrees, “so what? dearly departed marissa thought you were janitors?” he asks skeptically. you hear the slam of the trunk, and moments later sam’s settling into his seat in front of you.

“no,” you scoff, “some idiot kid was actually cleaning down there. told ‘im to get a new job,” you snort humorlessly.

“well, i’ll say,” dean raises his eyebrows in agreement before twisting back to face the wheel. he sneaks a look between you and sam before switching the car out of park and getting back on the road. for a few minutes, all you hear is the muted music, the constant roll of the engine, the light patter of rain on the metal roof, and the road under the tires. then dean switches off the music. “anything happen back there that i should know about?” he ventures.

“no,” sam answers casually, “nothing, just the usual.” you don’t even answer. you just can’t figure out if you should involve dean, tell him how sam was unthinking and almost entirely uncaring about the innocent civilian involved, all because he was so worried about you.

“alright,” dean concedes, glancing at you through the rearview mirror and sounding entirely unconvinced. he doesn’t turn the music back on, just lets the silence reign, so you close your tired eyes and lean your head against the cold glass of the window. you’ve fallen asleep in the back of the impala countless times before, but your drowsiness doesn’t take over this time in favor of letting your mind wander over what to say to sam. you can’t just let it be, and tonight is certainly the worst it’s gotten. plus, it’s an easy habit for you to wait for sleep when you’re already so close to the motel.

when dean pulls into the parking lot, he doesn’t turn off the engine. “gonna grab some grub. i’ll be back in a bit with the usual.”

“grab me something for dessert, will ya? ‘m craving something sweet,” you request, leaning towards the driver’s seat.

“sure thing,” he nods, and you slide out of the car and close the door after a thank you and tired smile. “anything for you, sammy?” you hear him ask.

“i’m good, just the regular,” sam responds as he exits the car. you unlock the motel door, and he’s inside the room just a moment later, closing and locking the entrance behind him. you stand facing away from him at the shitty table, your jacket already strewn across the back of a chair. you can hear him behind you, going through his routine movements. he’s taking off his jacket, setting it down on the edge of the bed. then he’s pulling comfier clothes out from his pack.

“you wanna shower first?” he offers, breaking the silence of the room. you can feel his gaze on your back.

“sure,” you swallow, “thanks,” you say without any sort of edge to your voice.

“‘f course,” he says, and he means that. his eyes follow you as you pull out your own change of clothes, just a tshirt and sweats, and make your way to the dingy bathroom. you’re tired, so you’re quick with it, but the water’s already lukewarm by the time you’re done. you dry off and dress quick, eager to lay in bed.

and yet, when sam takes your place in the bathroom and the sounds of the shower start up again, you sit at the table instead, picking out a few splinters in your hands before folding your arms and resting your head against them. you stay that way, even when you hear the water turn off, the bathroom door open, his heavy footfalls that are only heavy because he’s so tall and not for lack of gentleness, then the scraping of the chair across from you. he doesn’t even say a thing, just looks at the top of your head and the tip of your nose. the shape of your hands, the point of your elbows, and the curve of your back.

with a deep breath and some pain in your neck, you lift your head. you look back at him and slump your chin into your palm.

“i’m upset with you,” you state.

he frowns. even his frown is pretty. “i know,” he sighs.

“so? why are you acting like this?” your voice is tired, but you still manage to infuse accusation into your tone, “sam, why are you suddenly acting like i can’t take care of myself out there? you’ve been weird for nearly two weeks now, and i don’t like it. i don’t like this.”

sam doesn’t know how to respond. he’s used to being yelled at, shouted at, angry at. he’s used to yelling and shouting and getting angry back. and though he’s certainly fought with you before, he’s still not used to the level tone and the way you say each word so slow, like you’re not actually arguing. just upset and rightfully a little angry, like you just want to understand.

sure, he can hear the plain anger in your voice. you’re not trying to hide it. but you’re not yelling. how’s he supposed to use the heat of the moment to shout back, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” or “i’m just trying to help,” when there is no heat in the moment? instead, he’s embarrassed and the only answer he can come up with, the only one that he can mean if he answers in that same, level tone you’re using is, one he’s having too much trouble saying aloud. any other answer would just be too wrong like that. or maybe if you were shouting, he’d tell you the truth, because he could yell it out, loud and rash without thinking about it. if he says it now, it’s not because he just let it slip. if he says it now, there’s no way to take it back, to get around everything threatening to bubble over the surface like forgotten water on a heated stove.

“i don’t think that you can’t take care of yourself. i know you can,” is all he says, because it’s true and it skirts around the real questions. his voice is rough, halfway between pleading and holding back from the anger he doesn’t yet know how to control. you heave a sigh.

“so why, sam? why?” you let the heavy question stew for a moment, then go on when he doesn’t even meet your gaze, “or, i don’t know, if you’re not gonna tell me, just promise me you’ll stop?”

he clenches his jaw because he knows he can’t. he just wishes you would shout. then, he’d tell you. he can imagine the words coming out of his mouth, but only if they’re loud, only if you’ve pressured him to do it. he realizes that’s probably fucked up. but the other way is too vulnerable, too vast of a leap to take to when he’s just not sure.

“sam,” you press, “you don’t have to worry about me, i swear. i don’t understand what’s got you like this, but it’s getting in the way of you being able to do your job right. that kid could have died because all you could do was worry about me,” that’s when you begin you raise your voice, just a little. because that’s what’s making you most upset about this. you hate it ‘cause you feel like he’s doubting your abilities as a hunter, but you hate it even more because it’s making him disregard the safety of others and of himself, for you. “sam, i only slipped. sure i got the wind knocked out of me, but you dropped your gun for that? frankly, that was stupid. and the poor kid was being choked, and if i hadn’t been lucky enough to throw the iron before she could react, he could have died. i need you to understand that. i need you to understand that i can do this job, that i’m strong enough, and that if you don’t trust me with that? people could die. and i’m not about to let that happen. so either you tell me what’s up and we figure it out, or you stop and i pay you the huge favor of just dropping the whole thing, okay?”

suddenly he looks all sad. “i do trust you,” he says, voice all sincerity and nothing more.

you close your eyes for a moment, half in frustration and half because you could really use some shut eye right about now. “that’s not– well, it is. it is part of the point. but i need an answer from you, i need you to tell me you won’t let whatever this is put somebody else in danger.”

he clenches his jaw. he’s still stuck. you still haven’t shouted.

“just spit it out. i can practically see something rolling around on the tip of your tongue. just say it, sam.”

there’s an edge to your voice, so maybe he can.

“i can’t lose you.”

there it is. it’s said with an edge, too, like he wanted to shout it but couldn’t. it’s said rough and a little bit angry and full of this undying faithfulness and yes, love.

but you still don't quite understand it, so it makes you sigh. it makes your eyes soften a bit and it makes you a little angrier than before. it makes you want him to mean that with all his chest and it makes you want to shake him hard until he comes to his senses.

“that’s always been a danger, ever since we met. you know that,” your voice is something so oddly gentle in its frustration, “sammy, you’re my best friend, and i can’t lose you either. hell, i don’t think the words “best friend” even begin to cover the depth of how much i care about you. but we’ll both be safer if we trust each other, if we trust in both of our abilities to keep ourselves and the other safe. tell me that you understand that.”

it takes him a minute to speak again, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he searches for what to say. “two weeks ago,” is all he manages at first. you try to think back to it, and it immediately dawns on you. “i couldn’t prote–”

“sammy, no,” you interrupt, “that wasn’t your fault, okay? i know this doesn’t help to say, but we can’t always protect each other perfectly, to the extent we really want. i’d do anything for you, sammy, you know that.” after that there’s supposed to be a “but” where you explain to him that you can’t let that get in the way of your thinking straight and keeping everyone safe. instead, those last words just hang, suspended and weighty in the air.

“but you could’ve been killed,” the way he says your name is almost desperate. “it was dean that saved you. i was there and i couldn’t even help. what if next time, dean isn’t there? what if–,” his voice breaks, and he effectively cuts himself off from finishing the sentence. you know what he was trying to say.

any answer you give to that, you know isn’t enough. “but i wasn’t killed, sam. i’m here. i’m right here and i’m alive and i’m well and i don’t want to spend all my time worrying about you worrying about me. not like this.” you let that sit for a moment or two, and though his eyebrows are still all sad and pinched together, you think you’re starting to get through to him.

“but i can’t lose you,” he repeats stubbornly.

“sam,” you’re practically begging at this point, frustration creeping back into your voice, “the best way for you to keep me safe from ghosts and monsters and everything else is to take care of the problem, efficiently and effectively, like we always do. if there’s no monster, it can’t hurt me. but if you drop your weapon just because i slipped on soapy floors and lost my breath for a second? then it’s not just you and whatever innocent bystander around who’s more vulnerable now, it’s me too. so if that’s what it’s gonna take for me to convince you to stop fussing over me, then, please, think about it like that.”

sam is smart. he loves logic and reason, and you’ve handed him just that. but even more than that, he loves you. in the end, that trumps all.

“but i love you.”

he says it like a plea. like he didn’t mean to say it at all but it was the only thing running through his mind, and therefore, the only thing running off his tongue.

“sammy,” you breathe out, and then it’s like there’s no more air for you to breathe back in. that sweet nickname of his coming out of your mouth, resting on your tongue before tumbling into the air, is half like a drug to him, half like a bitter wind to sober him up quick.

“i– i only meant that i–,” he meant just that and now it’s said and now he’s never going to take it back, even if you hate him for it. “i meant that,” he says it firm and true this time, “i love you, so i can’t lose you.”

the way he looks at you, right into your eyes like they’re the prettiest things he’s ever seen, like you’re the best thing he’s ever had, oh, it has you hooked like bait has a fish who bit down too hard. it has you praying he never looks at anybody else like that again. it has you rising out of your seat and it’s pulling you across the small, wobbly table. he’s wedged into the grooves of your heart, so deep it could kill you to pull him out, so you follow the tug and he leans in too so the line isn’t so taught, so that it’s easy and comfortable and beautiful to reach his lips.

his hands are like a net that catches you up in big, lovely swaths. they travel from your own hands, that lean against the table to keep your lips pressed to his, up to your elbows and then he knows he can never get enough. so he pushes up out of his own seat, drags his hands further up your arms until they can wrap around your biceps and push you up. not for a moment does he let his lips leave yours as he stands and pulls the both of you away from the table until he can bring you close, right into his wide, warm chest. then his hands can roam, gentle over your sensitive back, up to your neck then the back of your head to push your face into his. the other hand gets to go from your waist to your hips, or dip to the small of your back and press you flush to him.

you can only get away from him for a second, just enough time to whisper, “i love you, too,” before he swallows you back up. you melt right into him, and he loves it so much, but he feels how tired you are and he remembers he is too. so he only kisses you for a minute longer before letting your head rest on his shoulder. without any reservation, he presses a long kiss to your temple and you sigh a sweet sigh into his worn out tshirt.

unwilling to let go, he waddles with you, all bundled up into his arms, to the edge of the bed. without warning, he collapses into it, taking you right down with him and pulling out a little shriek from your mouth that he finds to be nothing short of endearing. he laughs, a belly laugh that you can feel the vibrations of as it moves up into his chest and out of those pretty lips of his. with some struggle to readjust yourself, you press a sweet peck to those lips. another easy i love you.

then you collapse back into his hold and the low quality plush of the motel bed. “now promise me you’ll pull yourself together next time we get a case?” this time your ask is so much more lighthearted, sweeter because it’s mumbled into the skin of his arm. you mean it just as much, but you can’t help the fact that you feel like you’re floating, “now i really, really can’t have you getting us in trouble. i’ll need to be able to kiss you at any given moment, so you have to promise me that you’ll trust me to take care of myself. because it works, and you know it. it’s the safest way. for both of us.”

the sigh he heaves can be felt through practically your whole body. it’s heavier than you wish it’d be, but he relaxes against you just a bit more. “i know,” he relents, “i’ll do my best, okay?”

“thank you,” you breathe out, too relieved to care that he couldn’t quite promise. you know this all means he’ll just be more protective of you, but you can say the same for yourself. now that you’ve kissed him and he’s told you he loves you and you’ve said it back, right against his lips, you’ll worry about him extra. but the both of you know the best ways to keep each other alive, and that has to be enough for you. you allow yourself to snuggle closer into him before joking, “d’you think dean’s ever gonna come back?”

you feel sam’s quiet laugh more than you hear it. “yeah, he really did us a favor with that one, didn’t he?” you can hear the smile in his voice before he remembers himself, “do not tell him i said that.” having you in his arms like this has got him a little giddy, saying things aloud that he normally wouldn’t.

letting out a laugh of your own, you promise, “i won’t. but i’m starting to get hungry. maybe we should call him and tell him the coast is clear, we didn’t tear the room to shreds or anything like that.”

sam chuckles again, and you decide very quickly that you like the way it feels for him to laugh with you so close. neither of you move, not to get a phone to call dean or to stop yourselves from growing drowsy. not for anything.

you’re half asleep when you hear the familiar sound of the impala’s engine near the room. it turns off, then comes the sound of its front door being open and shut. just because you’re hungry and it spells the arrival of food, you force your eyes open and let out a groan when you wiggle your arms out of sam’s hold to stretch. the way his hands shift to your waist as you do so has you a bit flustered and you wonder if you’re supposed to pretend in front of dean that you haven’t spent the last half hour kissing and cuddling. but sam doesn't seem to care, because he just sits up when the door’s lock clicks, one hand by your head to hold him up, the other still settled decidedly on your waist. so you decide not to care either, and turn your head around to accidentally grin at dean when he peeks his head through the door. you had meant to look casual, but the second someone else becomes a witness to the fact that you’re laying together like this, you’re beaming.

dean visibly relaxes when he takes in the sight, pushing the door all the way open to walk in, then lock the door back up behind him.

“hey, there,” is all he says, shooting the both of you a look that says, really, you’re just gonna keep sitting there like that in front of me? it’s not that bad, but he’s allowed to tease because he just turned a twenty minute food trip into an hour purely for yours and sam’s sake. you clear your throat awkwardly, and only when you sit up does sam’s hand fall away from you.

you pad over to the table as dean places the paper bag of fast food on the surface. he drags over an extra mismatched chair and sam follows close behind you, pulling the remaining chair to sit beside you. as you begin to pull food out from the bag, now clearly gone cold to the touch, dean sits down, complaining that they didn’t have pie, so he bought you two cookies for dessert instead.

“well, thank you for the food anyways,” you smile, hoping he picks up on the fact that you’re thanking him for the other thing too, “damn shame there was no pie, though,” you say, more for his sake than yours. you wonder why he didn’t just pick some up from somewhere else since he was gone so long.

“mhmm, and don’t sweat about the pie. just got a slice somewhere else,” he shrugs, “ate it in the car, there was only one slice left and i didn’t want you to feel like you were missing out,” he explains with that familiar teasing edge which makes you think he indeed caught onto the double meaning of your thanks. you let out a small huff of laughter before tearing into the food, only now realizing just how hungry you are. you’d felt it creep up on you on the car ride back, smiled at the mention of food from dean, even stupidly thought about it during a quiet moment in the argument with sam. but the second your lips found his, that was the only hunger you’d felt. to keep kissing him, to keep him close, keep him loving you. only when you settled all the way into his arms, sure that you’d be able to satiate that hunger again, could your body remember you hadn’t eaten since early this afternoon.

the three of you eating like this, late at night and without much conversation, is common and comfortable. dean is on what you assume to be his second burger, because there’s no way he’d have just sat in the car, probably parked in a random lot and wondering how long he should be gone, and just waited to eat an extra-bacon burger until he came back. sam’s nearly the same as always, too, but tonight he sits so close that his forearm brushes against yours. you bump elbows or knees every so often, and the side of his socked foot is pressed against yours the entire time.

you sigh, content with the nearness of him that’s so much more complete and full than it was just hours ago. now, there’s no need to hover. now, you can just swoop in and land, take what you want, give what the other needs.

dean makes no teasing comments, but you can feel the way he’s been examining, reading the two of you. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something aloud, but you know that he knows the two of you so well that he understands almost exactly what must’ve happened while he was gone. maybe he’s not teasing because this is the outcome he wanted to come back to. he probably knows better than the both of you how you were crushing, pining even, over the other.

he takes his turn in the shower when he finishes his food, and you and sam begin to clean up a few minutes later. once all the trash is crumbled up and tossed away, you go around and turn off all the lights but a single bedside lamp. as you turn away from clicking off the lamp in the corner of the room, sam’s right there in front of you. you don’t have the time to be startled by him sneaking up on you, he’s so quick to cup your face with his hands and slot his lips against yours. he lingers a long moment before pulling apart just enough to rest his forehead on yours.

“gonna kiss you forever,” he whispers, and you realize you’ve turned this giant man into a complete and utter sap.

“you better.” your grin is wide and real and he can almost feel your lips moving, he’s so close. just as you’re ready to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him hard, the steady white noise of the shower shuts off. you sigh and laugh a little, leaning in to steal one more chaste kiss before brushing past him. but he turns with you, hands still warm on your cheeks and not letting go until he’s kissed you once more.

when dean’s gone from the bathroom, sam follows you in to brush his teeth with you. you’ve done so plenty of times, but tonight, sam gets to loop his free arm around your waist and pull you into him, rather than stand shoulder to shoulder in the cramped space. he gets to make you giggle through toothpaste when he does so, and you get to switch your toothbrush to your other hand and wrap your own arm around his waist, too. he gets to make you laugh dangerously harder when he tightens his hold on you to prevent you from bending and spitting into the sink when you’re done. you try to hold back the laughter with your mouth full of toothpaste, then he’s the one laughing around his toothbrush because there’s white, foamy spit rolling down your chin from the corner of your mouth and threatening to drip to your dark-colored tshirt. of course, he lets you spit and rinse your mouth, relishing in the continued sound of your laughter.

“you asshole! almost ruined my shirt til the next time we make a laundry stop!” you take revenge as he rinses out his own mouth, splashing the running water onto his face as he swishes water around in his mouth.

he spits the water out in surprise and sputters an indignant, “hey!” before he bursts into laughter again.

you’re both giddy, high off of kissing each other, and silly from the exhaustion of a hunt, so he tugs you into him by your hips and keeps laughing into the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers up through his soft, newly washed hair. you kiss the closest thing you can reach and he melts right into your arms.

it’s only when you yawn that he pulls away from you. “we should get to bed, huh?”

you nod and twist towards the door, peeking through it to see dean sleeping in his bed, his still form highlighted by the warm light of the cheap lamp. taking sam’s hand with a shy smile, you lead him to the other bed, turning off the last light and climbing under the covers with him not far behind. he loops his arm under your head, then the other over your waist to splay his hand flat across the small of your back. the way he does it is exactly the way you wished he would, as if he’s thought about holding you like this every night you share a bed, just as you had. with a final glance towards dean, he kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

you try to stifle the giggle that the soft, ticklish contact of his lips wants to pull from your chest, praying that dean is really as asleep as he looks. the both of you stiffen a bit when you hear dean’s blankets rustling, but you let out another breathy, quiet laugh when it goes silent again.

sam’s about to kiss you all over again when dean’s voice rings out into the hush of the night, startling you both.

“no shenanigans while i’m asleep, lovebirds,” he grunts.

that brings more laughter out of your lips and a rush of heat to your face that you’re sure sam feels, too. he just groans in annoyance at his brother, because of course dean had to get in at least one borderline dirty comment. neither of you really answer as dean shifts around in his bed again, likely turning his back to you and mumbling something mostly unintelligible.

the only word you can catch is “finally.”

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stayevildarling · 3 days

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gosh ur writing is truly amazing 🥹 I'm obsessed! I'm wondering if I could possibly request a Zelda Spellman, Cordelia Goode and reader fic with some angst? I'm currently obsessed with these characters rn and you honestly write them both so well🙃 if not tho that's fine <3

Cordelia Goode x Zelda Spellman x Reader - I'll crawl home to them

A/N: I am obsessed with this request!! Thank you 🫶🏻 I have missed writing for Zelda and after rewatching the whole show I just kept thinking about this idea, Cordelia makes it even better. I hope you enjoy and this is what you wanted <3 For any witch experts on here, please ignore some of the witchcraft and rituals, I wrote it to fit the storyline and it's not too accurate to both Delia and Zelda's powers. Also, I wish I could have carried this on for a lifetime but it was long already.

warnings: mention of death, mention of witch hunters, mention of violence, mention of guns, mention of blood, mention of smoking, angst, fluff at the end

word count: 5k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker, @billiebeanhoward, @lanawinters-ily, @kenzbro, @minaslittleone, @httpfiftyshadesofgay, @whitelotus00, @ninaahs, @vintagepaulson, @isle-of-earle, @paulsonsratched, @stepintomyworld, @grilledcheeseandguavajelly, @lucyintheskywithxanax, @fanfics4world, @mymiraclewitch, @hazard-to-myself, @awritersometime, @ohrwurm26, @wastdstime

Sitting at the breakfast table in the academy's dining hall, Cordelia stretches her arms, feeling the satisfying pop of her joints. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the scent of warm pastries, that the supreme had prepared hours ago. Zelda sits across from her, with grace buttering a slice of toast, her usual newspaper beside her. Both women look relaxed, yet tired, the week's demands having taken their toll on the headmistress and high priestess.

As you walk into the room, balancing a tray with breakfast items, you set it down with a soft thud, both of your girlfriends greeting you with content smiles. The three of you had barely seen each other all week, each wrapped up in the responsibilities of running their respective academies. Cordelia lived in New Orleans, running Miss Robichaux's Academy as headmistress plus supreme, Zelda living in Greendale, both teaching and leading the Academy of unseen arts for witches and warlocks. You had originally spent a majority of your time in Greendale, growing up there, before eventually wanting to see more of the world and finding a certain blonde far away.

Fate had bounded you together again, as both Cordelia and Zelda had known each other from countless council meetings in the past and when the three of you reconnected and realised that you all not only knew each other but had a certain attraction towards each other, one thing eventually led to another. You hated the idea of being far from either of your lovers but as the three of you mastered the ability of teleporting, Zelda additionally knowing how to astral project, it made the whole thing a lot easier. The three of you practically lived at Miss Robichaux's now, despite Zelda still calling Greendale her home and making an appearance at her home at least twice a day. This week she had only been in Greendale, as there had been some troubles with newer witches and warlocks at the academy. You had always been stuck in between, wanting nothing more than to help your girlfriends out with the burden that their responsibilities brought. And so you mostly split yourself, teaching and helping Delia in the mornings and working besides Zelda in the afternoon, before eventually collapsing into a bed with either of them, whether that was Greendale or New Orleans.

This is partially the reason why you enjoyed weekends so much as you knew you could always spent it with both of your girlfriends as they made those their priority, knowing if they didn't, this relationship wasn't going to work out. The three of you dig into breakfast, enjoying the rare moment of silence and the comfortable embrace of sitting beside each other. For a while, you simply savour each other's company, the peacefulness of the morning making the moment even more precious.

,,So, what do you both have planned for today?'' you ask, breaking the silence eventually. Cordelia sighs, setting her coffee cup down. ,,Unfortunately, I have an urgent meeting with the council. They've been quite insistent on discussing the new security measures, since.. you know'' she says, Zelda rolling her eyes slightly at her statement. Of course you knew what the supreme was talking about, several academy's and covens having been attacked lately and you knew this was far more important.

As you glance at Zelda, hoping she would at least be free, she shows the same guilty glance as she lights a cigarette. ,,And I'm afraid, I have to join Cordelia'' she huffs, knowing security measures are important but equally she wanted nothing more than to at least have a break this weekend. You nod thoughtfully, forcing a gentle smile and pretending this didn't hurt but at the same time who are you to whine about something as important as this. ,,I'm sorry sweetheart'' Cordelia coos, brushing her hand against your cheek with a guilty expression.

,,It's okay Delia'' you reassure but both witches are able to see right through you, not just due to their magic and abilities but also having been by your side for a very long time and knowing whenever you are playing it cool in front of them. ,,How about dinner tonight? just the three of us?'' your redhead girlfriends suggest and you beam a little upon hearing her offer. ,,Would you both be done by then?'' you ask a little hesitantly, knowing that those kind of meetings can take hours sometimes. ,,We'll make sure we are dear'' Zelda encourages and you trust her every word. ,,I'll take care of it'' you announce happily before Cordelia's brown eyes meet yours.

,,You don't have to sweetheart'' she tries with a head tilt but you are quite adamant, always happy to make your lovers happy. ,,What do you have in mind my love?'' Zelda asks affectionately as she abandons her cigarette in a nearby ashtray. ,,I'll see what I can find, leave it to me'' you announce happily before they nod contently. And so, with a plan in place, the three of you finish breakfast, enjoying the fleeting moment of togetherness before the days responsibilities pull you in different directions. You are the first one to leave, wanting to give both witches some space to prepare for their meeting and wanting to make sure you could make this dinner special. They both part you with loving glances, thank yous and kisses goodbye.

,,I need to stop by home first, Hilda has some kind of emergency apparently'' Zelda announces to her blonde girlfriend with a hint of annoyance in her voice. ,,Oh, is everything alright?'' Cordelia asks, concern laced in her voice, ,,Don't worry, probably a baking disaster of some sorts'' the witch snorts and the blonde can't help but smirk at her girlfriends antics. ,,See you there'' she smiles before they kiss goodbye. While Zelda teleports back towards greendale, you make your way towards the markets, Cordelia getting ready for her meeting and glancing over the documents they had sent beforehand one more time.

As you make it to the markets, you instantly feel at home, as Cordelia would take you here often on weekend mornings, picking up either flowers, ingredients or fresh produce with you. She had always made it a habit but since knowing you she enjoyed going with you even more, even before the two of you had become so close, although as you think about it a little further, you believe one of the reasons you had fallen for the supreme was how she took you around the markets with the brightest smile, holding onto your hand and guiding you from stall to stall with such excitement that it made your heart quickly beat faster for her. You had thought about the kind of meal to make on your way there already and eventually settled on both Zelda and Cordelia's favourite. As you walk through the markets, greeted by some familiar faces as they recognised you by now, you purchase several different ingredients.

Meanwhile, Zelda had made it to her home in Greendale, brushing past Ambrose who had greeted her with a quick ,,Hello Auntie'' before rushing into his room with several books and snacks as if he was planning something. And if Zelda wasn't so busy, she would have investigated what he was up to but she couldn't make the time to care. ,,What is it Hilda? I'm incredibly busy with this council business'' she huffs as she walks into the kitchen, feeling both annoyed and a little on edge what her sister wanted. The blonde stands by the kitchen island, some fresh cupcakes in front of her, as well as a fresh pot of coffee and tea. Zelda approaches with a raised eyebrow before glancing at her sister. ,,So?'' she asks with a raised eyebrow before the blonde looks away, trying to remain serious. ,,Well you have been so busy at the academy and you know.. with your girls'' she begins, giggling excitedly at the later part. ,,And I just really wanted to catch up'' she speaks, forcing a bright smile in the hopes that Zelda wouldn't be too upset and end up killing her for this.

,,Catch up?'' Zelda scoffs almost sarcastically as she couldn't believe her sister made her come all the way here for that. ,,Oh please Zelds, I made your favourite'' she tries with a beaming smile and the redhead simply rolls her eyes before taking a seat, lighting a cigarette and letting Hilda pour her a cup of coffee and slowly sliding a plate with a cupcake in front of her. ,,So how have you been Zelds? the girls?'' she asks excitedly and despite her cold demeanour, the redhead appreciated the gesture nevertheless, after the last year having grown closer to her sister than ever before and even if she wouldn't admit it to anyone or herself she had missed her, especially being so busy lately.

While the two sisters catch up, Cordelia had made her way to the council meeting, making it there way too early but wanting to catch up with some of the people from the academy's that had been attacked and hoping to offer her support if they needed anything at all. As the weather had taken a turn for the worse, you decided that you wouldn't be able to find the last few ingredients at the markets, trying another store but after this also being unsuccessful, you decide to abandon the things you had purchased already at the academy, before heading to Greendale, hoping you could either find some other seasonal things there or possibly being able to ask Hilda for some assistance what to do about this meal, because you knew by now if anyone could cook or bake then it was her. With practiced ease, you teleport into Greendale, stopping by the Main Street first before heading into a shop.

,,You're late'' Cordelia states with a chuckle as Zelda finally joins her for the council meeting, the redhead instantly rolling her eyes. ,,Everything okay with Hilda?'' the supreme asks, always having been fond of her girlfriends sister and especially her kindness and humour. ,,Yeah, believe it or not she wanted to catch up'' the redhead huffs before Cordelia tilts her head a little. ,,That's very sweet'' she coos, quickly stealing a kiss before the two of them make their way into the main room, joining both the council and the other headmistresses and witches and warlocks in charge from academy's around the country. Thunder begins rumbling outside, illuminating the room with bright flashes, matching the seriousness of the subject, as well as a certain witches mood.

Time seems to pass by as slow as possible, Zelda fidgeting with her rings as she was growing impatient, wanting nothing more for this to be over and to smoke, while Cordelia listened intently, knowing the importance of this, despite finding her girlfriends antics quite adorable. ,,You know'' Cordelia begins whispering ,,You can pretend to go to the bathroom and steal away for a smoke'' she chuckles and Zelda smirks, finding more and more reasons why she loved Cordelia. In a swift motion, she stands up, straightening her skirt before excusing herself to the bathroom, the supreme trying hard to suppress a smile as Zelda walks away, swaying her hips more than necessary on the way out, causing for the blondes cheeks to be coated in a slight red shade. For a moment, Cordelia reaches for her phone, checking for any notifications but there aren't any and it leaves a slight bitter taste in her mouth as you hadn't checked in with her yet and it had been hours of them being here.

As Zelda returns a few moments later, having tried to cover up the smell of smoke with some perfume, Cordelia again leans in close before whispering ,,Have you heard from Y/N?'' and the redhead simply shakes her head, however noticing the concern laced in her girlfriends features. ,,I'm sure she's fine, probably getting lost shopping at the markets or blasting music while preparing dinner'' and the supreme chuckles, able to imagine both scenarios so well and so she sighs a little before focusing on the meeting again as both her attention and input was undeniably needed, considering she was the supreme after all.

It's not until hours later when the same concern seems to reappear on the supreme's features and mind as they had both finished the council meeting and neither had a message. Cordelia's concerned brown eyes meet Zelda's green ones and despite the redhead knowing her girlfriend was prone to overreact and worry too much, she also found it a little strange, despite her not one to admit such a thing. ,,I'll call her'' the supreme announces, clutching the phone to her ear in anticipation. ,,Straight to voicemail'' she announces before her eyebrows furrow in confusion. ,,I'm sure she'll be home'' Zelda tries encouraging the supreme before Zelda reaches for Cordelia's shaky hands before the two of them teleport back into the academy in New Orleans.

As soon as they step inside, they find both darkness and silence, the academy both dead quiet and no one inside. All of the witches had left for the weekend and so it was no surprise, however you not being there concerned them. ,,Maybe she went to Greendale?'' Cordelia suggests and despite that outcome not making any sense, Zelda agrees, sure this was just some mixup. ,,Let me go and check, you stay here incase she comes back but I'll let you know'' Zelda reassures, holding onto the blondes hands before pressing a kiss to her forehead in order to ground the supreme a little. With a comforting smile, the redhead disappears in front of the supreme's eyes, quite literally blasting into dinner at her home in Greendale.

,,Zelds? what are you doing here?'' Hilda asks with a hint of concern and surprise after having seen Zelda hours before to catch up. ,,I-'' she begins but before she can finish, the phone interrupts them, causing Hilda to hold up her finger ,,Just a sec''. The blonde hops towards the telephone before speaking ,,Spellman Sister's mortuary, how may I help?'' the blonde speaks with excitement, before her features turn incredibly serious. ,,Oh dear right'' she says, listening to the person on the other side of the phone speak further and share some more details. ,,And you are sure on the name?'' she asks before her features both tense and drop further. Zelda doesn't pay much attention to the call as she had gotten used to them by now, before lighting a cigarette, wondering whether you may have been here and she may have simply just missed you and you may already be with Cordelia by now.

However, with a soft whoosh Cordelia appears right beside the redhead, causing for her features to wash over with confusion. ,,Cordelia?'' the redhead speaks in confusion, abandoning the cigarette she was about to light. ,,I- something is wrong, I don't have a good feeling'' she explains, the concern written across her face. Zelda watches as Hilda returns, her expression unreadable as she locked both shocked and traumatised. ,,Hilda?'' the redhead asks in a serious tone, having seen that expression a few times before. The supreme's head snaps towards the blonde's, not having noticed her presence until now. ,,Um- they- are'' she begins, unable to finish her sentence. ,,They- bringing- a body'' she stutters, before Zelda rolls her eyes, having more important things to worry about as of right now. ,,Well yes Hilda, this is a mortuary after all'' she hisses, but Cordelia can already tell that something was wrong.

,,It's- oh god how am I going to say this-'' she begins, tears welling in her eyes. ,,Just spit it out'' Zelda hisses, not in the mood to deal with her sister antics. ,,It's Y/N'' she finally announces, before the room begins spinning for both the redhead and blonde, staring at Hilda in both disbelief and shock. ,,Oh don't be ridiculous, it can't be Y/N'' Zelda remarks, covering up her inner turmoil and disbelief of her sisters statement. ,,I-'' Hilda stutters, unsure what to say as the people on the phone seemed quite adamant. Cordelia remains frozen in her spot, her worst fear finally coming true and her not having any doubts about this as you had been nowhere to be found. ,,What did they say? how do they know its her? why would she be in Greendale?'' Zelda begins questioning her sister as she paces around the room, lighting a cigarette. ,,I don't know Zelds, I'm so sorry'' Hilda announces, taking a seat at the table as the shock had rippled through her bones.

,,How long until they get here?'' Cordelia finally speaks, meeting Hilda's eyes before the blonde looks down. ,,About twenty minutes'' Hilda announces, offering the supreme to sit but she declines, feeling like her world had stopped spinning when hearing her statement. Zelda remains pacing, with each minute passing, her impatience growing as she lights cigarette after cigarette, chain-smoking her concern away and still thinking this is some kind of mixup. The three of them are startled, as Ambrose steps into the room excitedly, dancing along to some music that none of them could hear. ,,What's for dinner auntie-'' he asks excitedly before laying eyes upon both his aunts and Cordelia and their expressions.

,,Woah what's wrong, who died'' he jokes, assuming this was just some catastrophe at an academy, not realising the extend of the situation yet. Cordelia's eyes swell with tears further as Zelda gives him a glare that could kill him if she tried hard enough. ,,Ambrose darling, they are bringing in a body'' Hilda announces gently, before his features grow serious. ,,It's Y/N'' she carries on before his face turns pale, finally understanding the extend of the situation. His face snaps towards the hallway as he hears a car approaching, quickly glancing at his aunties before assuring ,,I'll go check'' not wanting to put that burden on either of them. ,,Thank you'' Hilda speaks softly, before the real waiting game begins.

Ambrose tries his best to move the body downstairs as quickly and safely as possible. To his surprise, the three women walk down the staircase, joining him with faced filled with hope and anticipation. He is quick to open the body bag, taking a look at the persons features before his heart stops in his chest. ,,I'm so sorry'' he sighs, before their heads snap towards him. ,,No..No.. No'' Cordelia cries out, taking a step closer and seeing your lifeless and pale expression. ,,This can't be'' Zelda sighs in disbelief still, taking a step closer before taking a look at you. ,,That's not her.. that's not our darling girl'' she shakes her head in disbelief, despite the others knowing this was just the shock speaking. ,,I need to.. I need to see her wrist'' Cordelia speaks through tears, before Ambrose glances at Hilda in confusion, the blonde simply nodding through her own tears. ,,She has a little tattoo on her wrist'' the blonde chokes on a sob before Ambrose carefully inspects your wrist, finding the tattoo and sighing.

,,What happened we can fix this, Zelda right?'' Cordelia begs, the shock rippling through her body as she shakes uncontrollably. Now Cordelia was always strong, put together and able to stay calm in situations like these. However after losing most of the people closest to her in her life, watching one of her most promising witches die in her arms, her mother and true mother figure, she couldn't deal with this, not you, not her sweetheart. ,,Ambrose, how long has it been?'' Zelda asks, trying to keep her composure and ignoring your lifeless body besides them. ,,Auntie.. I can't tell like this, I'd need to..'' he begins but his auntie is having none of it. ,,I need to know now'' she speaks through gritted teeth, Hilda in the meantime holding onto Cordelia's sobbing shoulders.

,,Give me some time and I'll figure it out'' he explains, beginning to put on his gown and glasses before Hilda ushers them away and upstairs. ,,Let me make you some tea darling'' Hilda speaks softly, ushering both women to sit down. Zelda remains standing, pacing around the room before again lighting cigarette after cigarette while Cordelia is falling apart on the same chair Hilda had sat her in moments ago. ,,This can't be real, what was she even doing in Greendale for satans sake?'' Zelda hisses, her heels echoing against the floor. ,,I don't know darling but Ambrose will figure it all out'' Hilda tries, trying to remain strong for them, despite the thought of your death also killing her as she had always been fond of you and treating you like a daughter.

It takes around ten minutes before Ambrose rushes upstairs, holding onto the doorframe with a shocked expression, as they all rise to their feet. ,,It's um... it's witch hunters'' he speaks, finally catching his breath. ,,What?'' Cordelia asks in shock before he ushers them downstairs. ,,Remember the bodies you asked me to examine from those attacks?'' he speaks as he examines the bullet further. ,,It's exactly the same like the others'' he recalls. Cordelia's features turn even paler as the extent of the situation settles in. ,,I assume it's been an hour maybe two'' he explains before the supreme seems to snap back into reality. ,,Zelda we need to speak to the council at once, check on the academies'' she speaks and Zelda simply looks at her with a raised eyebrow, caring more about you than any of those things as of right now. ,,We can fix this still, if we try, she may have a chance'' the high priestess speaks, having done her fair share of resurrections herself.

,,Go, we have got this, right Ambrose?'' Hilda offers, before he nods confidently. Cordelia steps over your body before leaning in a little closer ,,You've got this darling, please come back to us'' she begs, a tear running down her features before she presses a kiss to your forehead. ,,I promise we have this'' Hilda encourages her sister, noticing her hesitation. ,,Bring her back to us.. please'' she begs while reaching for your hand and is met with two reassuring glances before the two witches disappear into the night. While they inform both the council and make sure their academies, witches and warlocks are safe, Hilda and Ambrose begin the ritual, gathering the necessary items before beginning the ritual, chanting some latin words and working hard on bringing you back home where you belong.

The last hours had been nothing but painful, after your arrival in Greendale, you had managed to actually gather the ingredients for dinner for your girlfriends. As you glanced at the time, you realised that you still had a while to return to the academy to cook and so you decided to check on Hilda as you hadn't seen her in a week as well as Ambrose. However, you hadn't noticed that someone had been following you, unaware that they had been following you for a while, in New Orleans already days ago and watching your every step, simply waiting for the opportunity to get you alone. Before you knew it and could reach the Spellman's home, they managed to find your trace, dragging you deeper into the woods, demanding answers from you about your girlfriends. They didn't care for you, nothing special, just a simple witch but they had figured your connection to both the supreme and another powerful witch and so they wanted their location, ideally the councils whereabouts to cause as much death as possible.

Much to their surprise, you had remained silent, despite the torture and abuse they had used on you in order to reach their agenda and get their answers. You would have never given anything up, as you would quite literally protect them both with your life, knowing their lives and positions meant so much more than your own. After they didn't get any answers out of you, they felt like they didn't need you anymore, knowing time was running out and so they gave you one last chance before they pulled the trigger, everything going black afterwards. And ever since you had found yourself in this strange darkness. Moments before your life was coming to an end, you had seen a little collection of your happiest memories, growing up in Greendale, meeting Zelda for the first time, teaching alongside Cordelia and spending hours in the greenhouse with her, your first kiss with both of them and your last. After that, everything had been quiet, peaceful and darker than any dream you had ever had.

Eventually, you find yourself in a dark forest and somehow you must have known that this wasn't real as it felt like any other one of your nightmares. Unaware, that you were quite literally fighting death, as Ambrose and Hilda tried their hardest on bringing you back. It was the biggest fight of your life, walking past all of the people you had lost in your life, the people that had guided you, the people that you had lost years ago as they begged you to join them, follow them further into the darkness. But the only thing on your mind was Cordelia, almost being able to feel the way she'd kiss you on the forehead, almost being able to feel the way Zelda would hold onto your hand.

It takes another couple of hours before Zelda and Cordelia return to you, having secured both academies and alerted the council so they could take care of this further as their main concern was you. As they find themselves in the basement again, they are surrounded by candles, Cordelia a little shocked as she knew about the different kind of magic Zelda practiced but never having seen a ritual quite like this and the darkness of the whole thing. ,,Any news?'' the supreme asks, anxiously as she finds Ambrose and Hilda sitting beside you. ,,No.. it's all up to her now, she needs to fight her way back to us'' he explains, before they nod with sad glances, Zelda's green ones meeting Cordelia's brown ones. They join them in the end, sitting beside you on the floor, praying in their own ways, Zelda praying to Hecate and Cordelia begging over and over again for someone to bring you back.

,,You can do this darling, you need to find your way back to us'' Cordelia whispers, tears pouring down her cheeks as it had been hours of them sitting there. And after hours of aimlessly walking through the forests of death, you finally manage to get towards the end, hearing their voices literally calling for you. However, the fight against life and death wasn't that easy, as you walked past what looked like your own grave, your name engraved on the gravestone and the thought of you being buried in this dark forest made you feel uneasy, wanting nothing more than to return home. And so with one last effort, you keep crawling towards them, at this point beaten and defeated by the looming shades of death. And then with one loud shriek you finally take a breath, your entire body on fire and hurting as the wound from the earlier bullet impact that Ambrose had successfully removed stings through your entire body.

,,Y/N'' Cordelia breathes out in relief as she begins sobbing uncontrollably. ,,Oh praise Satan'' Zelda breathes out in relief, wiping at her own tears. Ambrose raises an eyebrow at her statement, before Hilda pats his shoulder. ,,Well done darling'' she praises him as he sighs in relief that this ritual had actually worked. ,,Darling it's okay shh.. don't speak'' Cordelia coos as she watches you struggle against this pain. Zelda could only imagine what you must feel like as of right now, having seen this kind of awakening a few times. ,,You need to rest my darling girl'' she coos before the supreme softly strokes your cheeks, guiding you softly back to sleep as she knows you are safe as of right now.

Eventually, they managed to get you upstairs, into Zelda's bedroom, keeping you comfortable as they had washed and gotten you into some new and less bloody clothes. Cordelia watched in pain as Zelda carefully inspected and treated your injuries, some very visible ones as your body was coated in bruises and cuts from the attack. They both stay right by your side, Cordelia having used one of her spells to ease the pain. Zelda having some magic tea from Hilda right by your side for when you would wake up. The two witches had in the meantime settled on the bed beside you, wanting nothing more than to stay right here for you whenever you would wake next, despite knowing it could take hours, possible days for that to happen as your body needed the right amount of time to adjust and regain it's strength.

The next time you wake it's several hours later, the moon illuminating the dark bedroom. As you open your eyes, you realise the unfamiliar surroundings and panic for a moment until you realise it's your girlfriends bedroom. Inspecting your body and the lack of pain due to Cordelia's magic, you debate whether it had all been a dream for a moment. With shaky legs, you manage to rise to your tired feet, turning on the little lamp in the corner in order to see, before laying eyes upon Cordelia and Zelda, sitting against the head frame of the bed and resting on each other's shoulder, still in the clothes they had been wearing this morning. And then everything dawns on you, the attack, the forest and waking up on the floor besides your lovers. ,,Delia? Zelds?'' you whisper, as the shock of it all seems to drown you for a moment.

They both immediately wake with a sharp inhale of their breathing, before they rush to your side. ,,Sweetheart, what are you doing up?'' Cordelia speaks, her voice filled with concern. ,,I- I woke up'' you explain in confusion, your voice still hoarse from the events. ,,Sit down my love'' Zelda instructs and you oblige, feeling fatigue wash over you. Cordelia helps you to sit down on the bed, before Zelda passes you some water. ,,Drink up'' she instructs and you do as you are told again, the cold liquid feeling nice against your dry throat. As you pass her the glass again, you suddenly find Zelda crying, despite trying to hide her sniffles. ,,Why are you crying Zelds?'' you ask in confusion, your eyebrows knitting. ,,Darling, do you remember what happened?'' Cordelia asks gently, not wanting to overwhelm you with the truth.

,,I think I was dead?'' you question, meeting their gazes as their faces turn a little paler. ,,You're safe now darling, we brought you back'' the supreme coos, before taking you into her arms. ,,Who did this to you?'' Zelda hisses before taking a seat beside you and gently stroking your bruised and beaten cheeks. ,,Witch hunters I think'' you speak, trying to recollect what had happened. ,,I don't know who they are but they..'' you begin but quickly stop yourself, not wanting to concern your girlfriends further. ,,They what?'' Zelda asks with a hint of seriousness in her voice as anger overtakes her and she was for sure going to kill them once she found them. ,,It's okay, doesn't matter'' you quickly try to brush it off but Cordelia can tell there was more to this and she desperately needed to know in order to find them.

,,Come on darling, tell us'' the supreme encourages, gently moving your chin so you can face her. As your eyes lock with her brown pleading ones you begin speaking again ,,They wanted the councils location and both of yours'' you admit, almost whispering. Cordelia's eyes close, instantly understanding the extend of the situation and knowing that this happened because you'd rather protect them both. ,,And then what? they just shot you anyway?'' Zelda asks in confusion, not having the full picture yet. ,,No honey'' Cordelia tries but you simply glance into your lap before explaining. ,,I didn't tell them anything'' you mumble into yourself before Zelda's head snaps towards you. ,,And why ever not?'' she asks in confusion before you whisper ,,Because I would rather keep you both safe''.

The statement causes for silence to fill the room, Cordelia simply pulling you into her arms again, holding you close to her chest, knowing her sweetheart to be a fighter and she knew that you would rather keep them safe, given your history and what a fighter you truly are and how big your heart had always been. Zelda struggles to understand your statement, while she would have told the witch hunters to go to hell and not say anything either, she doesn't understand why you didn't. She'd rather have them find them and fight them herself, rather than seeing you in danger and this extend of pain. Slowly though, as gentle brown eyes meet hers, she begins relaxing a little, understanding how true and how big your love for them truly was in order to sacrifice yourself to keep the both of them safe.

,,You did a brave thing my love'' Zelda finally speaks, gently taking your hands into her own. ,,But do me favour?'' she asks, encouraging you to meet her eyes. ,,Please never do that again'' she tuts and you and Cordelia can't help but chuckle, feeling a little lighter being in their arms again and seeing your girlfriend back in her old antics and habits. ,,Promise'' you whisper before holding onto the redhead. ,,I'll never stop keeping you safe though'' you mumble before she raises an eyebrow. ,,Maybe we can work on other ways for that sweetie'' Cordelia tries before you smile at her with a nod. After being in their arms a little while longer you glance at the supreme once more before fiddling with your fingers as a nervous habit. ,,What's going to happen now?'' you ask anxiously and the blonde can quickly tell what you are referring to. ,,The academies are safe, the council is handling it and will find them, I promise'' she reassures.

,,So you'll both stay tonight?'' you ask and your girlfriends eyes lock as your question kind of kills them both. They realise then that they had been prioritising the academies too much in order for you to ask this kind of question after a day like this. Without speaking, they decide here and there to dedicate more time to you, more time with the three of you and to figure this out for you. ,,Of course we will stay, silly'' Zelda tuts, before lovingly stroking your cheek and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. ,,Bummer about that dinner'' you sigh after a while, causing your girlfriends to chuckle lowly. ,,Are you hungry darling?'' Cordelia asks softly and you shily nod, considering the time. ,,What do you want, anything for my darling girl'' Zelda speaks softly and you shily glance at her before requesting some grilled cheese. ,,On it'' she chuckles before pressing a kiss to your cheeks and leaving for a moment.

Cordelia simply pulls you into her arms, gently stroking over every cut as if you are the most fragile thing on the planet before gently stroking your stomach, careful of the scar that now formed where the bullet had hit you hours before. ,,Does it still hurt a lot angel?'' she asks carefully before you shake your head. ,,Your magic worked well'' you smile before she looks at you in confusion. ,,How did you know?'' she asks before you giggle. ,,Delia I died and then you brought me back, without your magic I'm sure it would hurt a hell of a lot more'' and Cordelia can't help but chuckle despite the seriousness of it all, simply glad to have you back in their arms and to have her same brave girl with the same antics and humour back. And despite knowing this would still be a lot of work tomorrow, both in finding the witch hunters and keeping everyone safe in the future but also working with you through what you had endured. But she feels confident as of right now, having you in their arms, as you quite literally crawled right back to them, never being able to simple leave them like this, even through death.

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