Disclaimer: I wrote this because the idea was silly and fun and much too good to pass up. It is not like Night Terrors or So Close. This is a shitpost based off a (frankly brilliant) tumblr post.
Hope you guys have as much fun reading this and the post that inspired as I did while writing!
She glanced over her shoulder, curious eyes not missing Chat’s cheshire grin. He sunk into a crouch, bracing himself. This would either go wonderfully….or end up in him getting thrown off the roof. Just for good measure, he got out his baton to make a quick escape should things not go to plan.
Now or never. It didn’t seem possible but Chat’s grin widened. “The floor is lava.”
There was a split second where the world stopped. Where the twinkling lights froze along with Ladybug. Where she still stared at him in confusion. And then, like a switch, everything slammed into action. Her eyes widened. Her jaw dropped as confusion morphed to understanding which then slid into anger and panic.
“One!” Chat said.
Ladybug vanished. She threw out her yoyo, (Chat highly suspected of her not knowing where it would go), and leapt off the roof. Chat watched her fly through the air, avoiding roofs. A laugh bubbled up in his throat.
He was about to call out three when Ladybug fell. The word died in his throat. Because there was his lady, perched on an umbrella by a cafe. Granting a perfect photo op for unsuspecting customers. She tilted precariously before scrambling to get a better hold and the laughter that had lodged itself in Chat’s throat rang free.
While he dissolved into giggles, Ladybug glared up at him. Fire blazed in her eyes but he didn’t care. The plan didn’t just worked; it went better than he could have ever hoped.
REQUESTED: “could I request a fic where Credence is in the
tub after a bad day &
he’s just kinda curled up in the tub all sad & his s/o comes in w flowers
& they talk for a bit (s/o tries to comfort him) but Credence is still
kinda melancholy and s/o is like ‘fuck that/it’ takes their jacket & shoes
and climbs in & giggles & kisses & possibly smut ensues~ thank you
& I love this blog"
Warnings: Descriptions of a destructive mindset, but nothing too explicit.
Word Count: 1,508
A/N: This doesn’t have smut because I’ve had like zero energy lately, I’m sorry :// I hope it’s still okay!! :-)
It was easy to forget when he was surrounded by friends and
loved ones that much of his life had been pretty horrible, to put it mildly,
but now, sitting in the bathtub submerged in hot water, Credence couldn’t help
but be overwhelmed with it, like every happy moment was just filler time until
he was free to remember. Mostly, he was overwhelmed with thoughts of his Ma, so
much so that he couldn’t help but fall completely victim to an onslaught of
Sitting in this tub for so long, indulging in the warmth of the
water and letting himself use frivolously scented soap, well, that certainly
must be a sin. He could hear all those times that Mary Lou reprimanded him for
standing in the shower for too long, that bodies aren’t meant for relaxing;
they’re meant for doing the Lord’s good work.
Credence let himself slip further under the water, fighting
tears at the memory of that seemingly forgotten voice, but then, his hair,
grown long now that he didn’t have to sit in that creaking chair every Saturday
as Mary Lou lopped off chunks of it to keep it from unruliness, began to swirl
around his shoulders, sweeping across them and pressing to his neck and face as
the strands separated and floated in the water. Credence couldn’t help but lift
a hand to them, yanking with more force than he intended, fighting off the bile
that rose with the rising awareness of his sin, the vanity he indulged when he
looked in the mirror to style his hair and appreciate it afterward, the pride he
fostered when his friends and significant other complimented it, the disorder
it caused since it was not easily maintained. Perhaps his hair was his greatest
sin of all.
But no, his greatest sin must be you. You, whom he loved so dearly and with all of his heart.
Premarital sex, sex for pleasure, letting you touch him at all, that was sin.
The pleasure he got from it, that was sin. Letting you love him when he was so
wicked, that was sin. And of course, the fact that he loved you more than he
ever loved the Lord that Mary Lou talked about, preached about, fought about…
That was his greatest sin. The
thought of what Mary Lou would do if she were here to learn of his wickedness,
of the sin he had been allowed to succumb to in her absence was enough to have
him shaking, crying, pulling his knees to his chest, and closing his eyes as
tightly as he could. He should have known he couldn’t forget. A quick glance to
his scarred hands would have made sure of it, even if it had been theoretically
possible. Mary Lou had made sure her teachings were a part of him forever.
Looking at him now, she would have been proud of her work.
Credence slipped further into the tub, his nose now just above
the water, the bath water that was now collecting the tears that had picked up
a steady stream down his face, and he couldn’t help but jolt bolt upright when
he heard a knock on the bathroom door before it opened.
There you were, his greatest weakness, the reason he lived in
sin. Looking at you, closing the door gently, trying to balance a bouquet of
assorted flowers in one hand as you did so, an assortment you must have noticed
him admiring earlier that week, and not fully facing him yet, he couldn’t help
but cry harder because he wouldn’t give up the sin he lived in—he couldn’t, not
when he loved you so completely. Did that mean there was no salvation for him?
Did that mean he was damned? Had Mary Lou been right all that time?
When a cracked sob came from the tub, you turned as quickly as
you could and took Credence in: raven black hair plastered to his neck and
face, honey brown eyes made glassy with tears, face slightly swollen from
crying, lips parted in a deep frown, breaths coming quickly and causing his
chest to look slightly sunken with the force of them. It was a bad day.
You placed the bouquet on the counter by the sink gently before
walking over to the tub and sitting gently on the lip of it, gazing down at
Credence before cupping his face in your hand. You watched his eyes flutter
closed as he released a shaky breath and slipped further under the water. “Do
you want to talk about what’s wrong, honey?”
Credence squeezed his eyes shut tighter at the term of
endearment, one that he certainly didn’t deserve. “I’m a sinner.” His voiced
rasped and cracked slightly from lack of use and from emotion. “She was…right.
All that time, I…”
Getting up so that you could kneel by the tub instead and be
closer to him, you brought your face near to his so that you could kiss his
forehead and push his wet hair from his face. “Mary Lou, if she were really
doing the work she said she did, would have acknowledged that we’re all sinners
in the eyes of her God, Credence.”
Those beautiful eyes opened slightly so that you could see the
color in them, and a tinge of hope too. “I guess… How do you know?”
You smiled gently at him, continuing to stroke your fingers
through his hair. “My mother raised me on that Bible too, Credence. It may not
mean so much to me anymore, but I remember the teachings. And we’re all sinners
to Him. We just have to try our best. And part of trying our best is enjoying
ourselves. Loving his other creations. Appreciating the life he gave us. Your
mother just left those parts out to fit her own biases.”
His eyes were completely open now, looking at you with
unhindered adoration and confliction. “It doesn’t mean much to me…anymore…either.
Is that bad? I can… My mother’s voice… Am I wicked?”
You inhaled deeply and scratched lightly at his scalp before
answering. “No, Credence. You were taught all the wrong things for a really
long time by a really mean woman, and that makes it hard to let go. And there
will be bad days like this one, but… You deserve the things you have, Credence.
You aren’t wicked.”
He nodded at you and let his eyes fall closed again. “Thank you,
You couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness as you realized he
was still…low. You knew you couldn’t fix it, but you hated that he still had to
go through this. You also knew you wouldn’t let him go through it alone. When
you stood, his eyes opened again at the sound of your movements and widened as
you kicked off your shoes and removed your jacket. “Do you mind if I join you,
At his slow nod, you began taking off the rest of your clothes,
blushing slightly at the pure love in his eyes. You still weren’t used to being
loved so completely and reverently, especially by someone you loved just as
much. You got in on the other end of the tub so that you could face him and
wrapped your legs around his waist so that you could bring yourself closer to
him, nearly in his lap. You cradled his face in your hands, stroking your
thumbs just under his cheekbones and smiling when he let out a contented
breath. “I love you so much, Credence…” You found yourself whispering.
His eyes opened again at that, just looking at you, taking you
in. “I don’t know if I…deserve it.”
That hit you like a ton of bricks, right to the chest, and you
simply shoved yourself forward in the water, not caring that water sloshed over
the side of the tub, and pulling him into a hug, letting out a breathy,
half-hearted laugh as your wet bodies slipped against one another.
Credence exhaled sharply too, but a sob followed as he finally
moved his hands to clutch desperately at your back. “I love you, Y/N… I’m
trying, but I…”
You pressed sloppy kisses to the slope of his neck and said, “Trying
is all you can do, and it’s enough, Credence. I’m here on the bad days too. It’s
You pulled away as he nodded, resting your foreheads together
and moving one hand to stroke his face again. “It’s us. Even… Even on bad days.”
You smiled broadly at the sound of his voice, more confident
than it had been a moment before, despite its constant quiet, and moved back,
gesturing for him to lean back against you. You stayed like that, his back
pressed to your chest as you stroked patterns across his skin, long after the
water had lost its warmth, and he wasn’t all better. Nothing had been fixed,
but the more he relaxed against you, the clearer it became that good days would
Pairing: Reader x Dean Genre: Fluff Word Count: 1529
Prompt: It’s your first time seeing Dean’s new tattoo
You glanced outside at the pouring rain as you browsed the internet on your laptop. You sat on the couch with the TV on for background noise. Big Bang was on Weekly Idol and you chuckled to yourself as The MCs teased the boys. You turned your attention back to your computer screen. You were scrolling through facebook and pinterest, switching off between checking on your friends and family overseas while simultaneously looking for a recipe to cook for tomorrow’s dinner. Soon, Weekly Idol was ending and you stretched. Evening was approaching and it was still raining. You stood to get dinner started. Even though you knew you were going to be alone again tonight, you still made enough for two just in case. The TV began to play a rerun of some drama, but you kept it on just so the house wouldn’t be too quiet. Finally, dinner was ready and you sat down at the table to eat by yourself. This was nothing new. Dean was busy doing concerts and working in the studio. You had never had a problem being by yourself, but more importantly you understood that Dean had priorities and even though he left you alone a lot recently, it didn’t mean he didn’t love you any less. You turned off the TV and brought your laptop over to the table as you switched on one of your favorite shows on your laptop. You were about half way through your meal and episode when suddenly, a tentative knock came from the front door. You looked down at yourself. You were in your sleep shorts, a shirt of Dean’s, and an oversized knit cardigan. Your hair was up in a messy bun on top of your head and you had zero make up on. You glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was almost 8 at night, who could be coming by this late. You slowly paused your show and stood up, making your way to the front door cautiously. When you reached for the handle, you heard the jingle of keys and suddenly it began to turn by itself. Before you could jump back, the door flew open and you were face to face with a very soggy looking Dean.
You stepped back flustered as he pushed into the doorway. He slipped off his wet boots and you backed up even more to give him some room. As he did, you glanced over him. An umbrella hung off his arm. He was wearing a loose white dress shirt, dark ripped jeans, and a long cardigan. His usually perfectly groomed swoop of hair across his forehead flopped out of place and he pushed it back as he straightened.
“I thought you were supposed to be at the studio tonight,” you murmured as he smiled at you.
“No hello?” Dean asked jokingly. “Oooh~” he said inhaling deeply. “Something smells good. Did you cook?” Without waiting for an answer, he pushed past you into the kitchen and smiled at the neatly wrapped second helping that you had prepared. He unwrapped it and plopped in the seat across from you. You quickly moved your computer out the way and sat across from him. He reached out for some kimchi and side dishes and sighed in content as he tasted the food you had cooked. As he reached out for more, you gently caught his wrist in your hand. He looked up at you and he smiled. He stood up and leaned across the table to kiss you.
“Hello,” you whispered against his lips as he pulled away and sat again to eat. He smiled and the rest of the meal was finished with short conversations. You tried to figure out how he had been and at the same time he inquired about your life away from him. You both came to the conclusion that despite missing each other greatly, you both were fine. After dinner, the two of you fell onto the couch and watched mindless TV. After a while you got up to make tea. As you came back with the two cups you noticed something on Dean’s neck. An arching swatch of black with stylized flowers blooming from the ink branch. You set down the cups and tea and realization hit. He had told you he was going to go get it, but it had been a few weeks since then and you hadn’t seen him. You muted the TV and Dean looked over at you with a questioning look on his face. You moved yourself so you were straddling his lap. Dean, still confused allowed your pin him to the couch and his hands settled on your thighs making you shiver a little.
You looked down into his eyes and he never broke the gaze. “Don’t get the wrong idea,” you murmured trying to be serious. His eyes still questioned you until you began to unbutton the buttons down the front of his white dress shirt. Dean seemed to hold his breath until all the buttons were undone. You pushed the shirt back from his left shoulder and there it was… in all its glory. The plum blossom tattoo. Dean’s breath hitched in his throat as you began to trace the branches and run your fingers over the delicate flowers. After what felt like hours of you admiring the new addition to his skin Dean finally was able to speak.
“Do you like it?” he whispered, his voice wavering only the slightest amount.
You lowered your head to press your lips to the tattoo on his neck. Dean groaned as your lips came in contact with his skin. A bolt of pleasure jolted down his spine as he felt your lips press to his neck warmly.
“I take that as a yes,” he whispered his voice shaking noticeably now.
You looked down at him and smiled widely. “Yes,” you said enthusiastically. “It’s beautiful.” Your smile faded slightly as your left shoulder tingled. You placed your hand over the area where your tattoo was placed and you remembered the buzzing of the tattoo machine and the sting of the needle. Although it wasn’t the worst pain in your life, you still grimaced a little at the memory. “Didn’t it hurt?” you whispered touched the soft skin on his neck. You imagined Dean with red and swollen skin around the tattoo and you immediately shut out that idea.
He chuckled and took your clenched hands in his. “I’m fine,” he murmured pressing his lips to yours securely. “Although if you were there, I’m sure I would have pretended to be hurt so you would take care of me,” he teased.
You ran your fingers over his tattoo again and sighed. “I guess I can’t give you hickeys on that side anymore,” you said in defeat.
Dean laughed. “Come on, get up for a minute.”
You stood and Dean pulled you up and over to the bathroom. “Don’t get the wrong idea,” he said mimicking you earlier. He slipped the cardigan off of your shoulders and eyed the shirt you were wearing. “I was looking for that the other day,” he murmured more to himself than you. You laughed but then he took you completely off guard by pulling the shirt off. You yelped and tried to cover your torso and bra-clad chest. Dean laughed and faced you towards the mirror as he shrugged off his unbuttoned shirt. Both of you stood there topless but then you noticed that your tattoos, although very different in style, meaning, and concept were placed in similar positions. Yours was contained to your shoulder and chest while his snaked up his neck, but there was no denying they were in similar places. “See?” Dean questioned taking your hand. “Just like us. Different people but in the same spot.”
You laughed at his bad way of summing everything up.
He turned you to face him, and you couldn’t tear your eyes from the new tattoo. “How about, same place but different works of art?” he questioned quietly. You became aware that the two of you were gravitating towards one another and the heat radiating off of Dean’s body enveloped you. This always happened with Dean. There was an unexplainable pull between the two of you and before you knew it he was pulling you into his arms and the two of you were lost to the night.
***A/N: Hello my lovely followers and readers. Sorry I have been MIA for quite a while… I hope you all enjoy these few new chapters. Dean’s new tattoos are boggling my mind… ALSO side note about this chapter: I don’t know if any of you have seen video from the second Club Eskimo show that Dean did recently. He was wearing like a large white dress shirt and a beige-y brown long cardigan. That’s kind of what I was visualizing for this scenario. (I’ve only seen instagram videos of this, so I can’t really link them or put in an image. SORRY about that…)
Anyways, I hope you enjoy and also feel free to leave me comments, questions, and concerns.
in little flashes,
sounds and smells
that strike chords in me -
lightning bolts jolt
straight into my brainstem.
They come on like holograms,
blurry projected visuals rolling in
of memories that don’t feel real.
Swarmed in static, barely lucid -
but I can taste the sick in my mouth,
and I can feel the sinking stones settling
in my surging stomach; I swallow but my
mouth is as dry as a desert in a dust storm.
Flash, flash - FLASHING flits in front of eyes
squeezed shut/CRASH, oh this feels just like
thunder thumping at the inside of my skull -
banging and reverberating around until these thoughts generate a whirl of sound, cacophonies live inside these awful recollections - and they are SCREAMING at me, meanwhile I’m frozen, unable to make a sound.
Raditz and Nappa were darting anxious glances his way. Vegeta steadfastly ignored them to read the memo on his scouter display for the third time, just to be clear he understood it correctly.
They were being ordered to stand down.
It appeared that some intricate galactic politics were in play. A dispute between Frieza, his brother, Cooler, and a few other powerful galactic ‘allies’ (that term being used more generously than literally) had come to a head. Until the politics could be resolved (or war was declared), all of the Frieza Force was to halt activities and remain on standby at their current locations.
It was essentially a forced vacation. Most would have been thrilled.
But not Vegeta. Being told what to do never settled well with him even in the best of situations, and this was far from that. Being told he couldn’t travel, couldn’t kill, couldn’t essentially do whatever the fuck pleased him in the name of galactic expansion, was tantamount to being collared. Caged.
Or so it normally would have. Only, Vegeta was in what one could call a ‘good mood’, which was remarkable considering there was no blood on his hands, just the lingering scent of a blue sex doll’s juices still on his fingers, hidden under his gloves, and the peace that a good night’s sleep brought.
His men were waiting for the fallout, to see if Vegeta would blow something up, or tell them to ignore their orders and fly off to wipe out another unfortunate civilization.
“Try not to get in my way, or I’ll kill you,” Vegeta told them nonchalantly. He walked away, off to inquire about the nearest training facility. If he was going to be stuck here a while, he would need something to keep himself busy with. That was, until night came around and he could visit the woman in secrecy.
Raditz and Nappa shared a look, floored by his lack of reaction.
Summary: You’ve fallen in love with a certain blue eyed angel, what better way to tell him than on Valentines Day?
Warnings: intense fluff
You were finishing up the last touch to the card when you realized what time it was. The clock on your desk made a low ring as the hands reached four. Sealing the card in the envelope, you debated waiting to give it to the specific, special person in which it was made for. No doubt, even this early in the morning, he would be here and he would certainly be awake, since angels don’t sleep.
Telling him how you felt, well… its been a long time coming. When you first met him, when you first gazed into those blue eyes you had no idea he would eventually mean so much. Especially in a short amount of time, it didn’t take long for feelings to develop and over time they only grew. Its almost been nine years since Castiel raised and brought Dean back, with that being said, you’ve kept your feelings to yourself. Except for the occasional talks with Sam and when Charlie was alive you would talk to her, but for a while you’ve kept everything on the low and to yourself. Maybe its because Amara brought Mary back and your boys were reunited with their mom or maybe its because your tired of keeping everything inside, but you’ve been wanting to tell Castiel just how much he really means to you for a while now. What better day is there than Valentines Day? Though now that you were four hours into the holiday, the swirling feeling in your stomach only made you more nauseous.
You decided to go and look for him now. Either way, had you of waited until later or now, it didn’t make much difference because you wouldn’t be getting any sleep today; not with what’s ahead of you. You weren’t sure how the angel would react, he was an angel after all but he needed to know. When you love someone, you need to tell them. No matter if its going to break you in the end because you never know, it might actually be the thing that saves you.
Slowly and quietly, your feet padded their way down the halls of the bunker. Every second that passed by, you were thinking it would be better to just turn around and go back to your room. But that would be too easy and be considered giving up which the Winchesters and Cas, himself, had taught you not to do. Focusing on deep breaths, you finally reached the library, peering in only to see the most handsome, brave, and thoughtful angel of them all; your whole world, Castiel. Gazing at him for a moment, you watched as he concentrated on the book he read; his mind lost in the script of the pages. His hair was combed and orderly, his sleeves rolled up; his trench and suit jacket laid beside him neatly on the table. Sighing, you took in the marvelous beauty that sat before you and you couldn’t stop a smile from forming on your lips, Cas was just unbelievably gorgeous. Though his looks weren’t everything, Cas undoubtedly grabbed your attention when he showed you just how much humanity meant to him and how much he had changed through the years as he learned more and more about human tradition, the angel was absolutely remarkable.
“(Y/n)?” his deep gravel voice pulled you from your thoughts as he questioned you.
“Hey Cas,” your smile dropped and you moved from the threshold towards him hesitantly.
“What are you doing awake? You should be sleeping,” he stated softly, closing the book in his hands.
“Well I…I know but I…,” you stuttered over your words like a helpless school girl. Shaking your head at yourself, you cleared your throat.
“I’ve been up for a while actually,” sounding more certain you continued, “I was making you something.” You couldn’t make yourself look at him or meet his gaze. Right now you had wished you had just gone back to your room. You felt so small and the room felt like it was caving in, your nerves were getting the best of you.
“You made something for me?” his tone was questionable but sweet. He was always gentle with you as if you were so fragile you might break if his voice raised to loud.
“Yeah, today is um…, It’s Valentines Day,” you explained as you held the card with both hands in front of you. He tilted his head as he watched you, you had yet to look at him and from what he could tell, your heart was racing within you. Squinting his eyes, he stood up gracefully and walked to you.
“(Y/n), are you alright?” he asked as he gazed down at you cautiously. You didn’t think it would be possible, but your heart fluttered faster each time he spoke your name.
“Im fine,” you attempted to hide the lie as you nodded your head. Looking up, you finally met the vibrant blues ones that were staring down at you. Attempting a smile, you held the card out for him to take. His eyes stayed glued to yours a little longer than usual before flitting down to examine his gift. Castiel took the card from you and his fingers grazed against your own, every time you felt his touch it felt as if tiny lightning bolts jolted through you. His eyes traced the light blue envelope, taking in the design of the embedded swirls before running his index finger over them.
“This is lovely, (y/n),” he explained before opening the seal.
“Its only just an envelope Cas,” you chuckled softly, impatiently waiting for him to get to the card.
“Anything from you is lovely, whether it is ‘just an envelope’ or not,” he answered, sharing a laugh with you. Your cheeks flared, feeling like a furnace. Gosh, the most slightest things from him could make you blush. He definitely noticed, just like every other time he talked with you but he decided to ignore it and continue opening his present. He peeled the sticker that held the envelope together and pulled the card from its holster. A surprised look appeared on his face as he took in every detail of what you had drawn; there was a heart in the middle of the front cover with his name. Castiel read his name, not in english, but enochian. You researched all about enochian translations, determined to spell everything correctly. Cas lifted his head and gave you a look you weren’t sure of, a look that you weren’t used to seeing.
“I spelled it wrong…didn’t I?” you questioned in defeat. Sighing, you cursed yourself for being so careless, you should of looked it over again just to double check.
“No,… you didn’t. You wrote it perfectly,” he gave, squinting and tilting his head once more. He couldn’t comprehend why you always brought yourself down. Especially with something like this, even if you had messed up at least you tried. But you didn’t mess up, his name was written perfectly in his native angelic language. Glancing up, you knitted your brow in confusion. Taking a step closer to him, you looked at the card questionably, as if you had never seen if before even though you were the one who made it. You really hoped he wasn’t just saying that to make you feel better, you wanted everything to be perfect.
“Are you sure?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you,” he admitted, glancing down into your (y/e/c) eyes. For some reason, a flashback of all the times he had crossed your mind. Like when he lied about the situation with the souls in Purgatory, or that time he extracted Ezekiel’s grace from Sam’s neck and he basically told on himself that he had in fact lied about a few things in the past. Cas shifted on his feet, glancing between his card and you before he caught on to what you were probably thinking.
“I have never lied to you, (Y/n). I have lied to the Winchesters, yes, but with you I’ve only ever been completely honest,” he cleared. A quick glance into his eyes and you could feel truth radiating from within them. Perhaps he hadn’t actually lied to you. You didn’t get involved in the arguments about Purgatory that one time, that was mainly between him, Sam, Dean, and Bobby. You remembered when Cas would tell the boys something that wound up being a lie, he would look at you only after he had told the lie, and the look on his face was nothing but pure sadness almost. Only now did it actually make sense and he was right, because every time he spoke lies, it hadn’t been directed towards you.
“I believe you Cas,” you remarked, a small hint of a smile forming on your lips. Before you realized, Cas’ thumb grazed your cheek, pushing a stray hair you hadn’t even noticed fell, back behind your ear. Your smile dropped at his touch, the reality of it becoming all too real. Why couldn’t he understand all the small hints you had dropped in the past? Why couldn’t he just be yours? Cas had never been even remotely intimate with you before, hell he barely even hugged you. But now, as you stood inches apart, he was being gentle and cute, romantic even. Now that you realize it, you and him and never really been alone before. You always made sure either of the brothers were around or someone, you were always too caught up in your feelings to trust yourself being alone with the angel. Not because you were going to do something to express your feelings, but you were afraid of embarrassing yourself in front of him. Embarrassment remained a constant battle you faced, especially if Cas was involved. Taking a step back, you tried to laugh it off, Cas was probably just being courteous removing the hair from your face; he probably didn’t mean anything by it. You could feel his eyes burning through you, but your cheeks were warm again and you didn’t want to bother looking up.
“There’s more on the inside,” you whispered, looking down as you fiddled with your own fingers. He watched you for a moment longer before turning his attention back to his card. Reading over his name once more, he smiled before opening it. You had sketched a picture of him sitting on a picnic blanket eating his favorite, a PB&J sandwich, the jars resting on the cloth beside him along with the knife. Though in the picture, his focus wasnt on the sandwich but on the bees that appeared to be just buzzing on by. You had used a graphite pencil, but you had used color on his eyes; everything else was monotone. Cas’ eyes scanned over your art work, taking in the depth of your talent; it rendered him speechless. The angel didn’t know what to say, he thought it was absolutely amazing. He noticed words at the top of the page and he set his focus on reading it. All the while you stood there, unsure of everything. Should you really have done this? The letter at the top of the page read:
“No one said it would be easy; this life we live can get very difficult. But I owe it all to you, for if it hadn’t been for you I wouldn’t be here. You mean more to me than you’ll ever know and its not just because you’ve saved me, but you’ve helped me in more ways than you’d understand. You’re special to me, angel. You always will be. Happy Valentines Day!” Cas looked up at you from the card but you only continued to fiddle with your thumbs.
“You’re special to me too,” his tone was soft and in a whisper. You peeked up only to find him gazing back with a soft, warm smile. You smiled at him, not knowing what else to do. You could feel the knot rising in your throat and you knew you weren’t going to be able to keep this charade going. You needed to get out of there, it was getting harder to breathe.
“I think Im going to go lay down now.” you began to back away and immediately Cas wanted to protest. Just when he thought you had felt what he had hoped for, you seemed to be slipping from his grasp but he didn’t know what to say. What if you were just being kind? He didn’t want to risk what friendship he had with you, he couldn’t loose you. When you reached the door, he called out for you and hope sprang and elicited your whole being.
“(Y/n)…,” he called, turning back you could see he didn’t quite know what to say. It was then you realized that you probably put him in a difficult place. You shouldn’t of done this, now things might never be as they were. What if he didn’t want to be around you anymore? You couldn’t loose him, just the thought made you want to break in two. “…, happy Valentines Day.” Those words slipped off his tongue as if he was unsure of what else to say. You tried your best to smile and you all but ran to your room after you had turned around. How could you be so stupid? Sure you didn’t exactly write that you loved him, but thats what he probably took it as and he surely did not feel the same. He probably thinks your crazy. Why would an angel want to be with a human anyway? Could you really blame him? Throwing yourself onto the bed, you felt empty; you were an absolute mess, wanting to cry yourself to sleep before you even realized just how tired you were.
After you had left, Cas watched the threshold from where you disappeared. Endless thoughts surrounding his head as he tried to understand your meaning. Maybe you were being friendly, and thats all you had intended. He wouldn’t be so lucky for you to love the way he did you. Taking a seat in his chair, he sat there thinking about everything that just happened. Completely forgetting the book he had been reading before, Cas couldn’t stop looking at his card. He loved it; he loved you. He took in the sight of himself eating the sandwich and watching the bees, he couldn’t help imagining having a picnic with you. Before he even realized, two hours had passes and Sam was up making coffee.
“Hey, what are you up to?” Sam questioned as he took a seat across from the angel, coffee in hand. Cas glanced up but his eyes went back to his gift.
“(Y/n)’s cards are extraordinary, don’t you think?” he questioned, looking up at the Winchester when he didn’t exactly respond.
“What are you talking about?” Sam’s eye brows knotted as he leaned in to get a closer look. “Wait, is that a valentines card?” He pressed, somehow becoming so serious in an instant. Cas tilted his head towards Sam’s disbelief and seriousness.
“Yes.” the angel responded. If Sam wasnt fully awake, he sure was now and the coffee had nothing to do with it. For years he had been telling you to just tell Cas how you felt, but you never would.
“(Y/n) gave that to you?” Sam was making sure before he said anything. If this was you trying to reach out to get Cas’ attention, then Sam was going to flat out tell him.
“Yes,” Castiel watched as Sam began to smile.
“When?” Sam realized he was probably getting too excited for the angel to understand, but this had gone on long enough. The Winchester was sure the angel had feelings for you but he was never one hundred percent sure.
“A couple hours ago,” Cas glanced back toward the door, missing you since the second you walked out of his view.
“What did she say?” the younger brother pressed.
“Not much, what did she say when she gave you yours?” Cas asked but Sam’s smile only grew.
“I didn’t get one” he answered, practically proud.
“What about Dean?” Cas didn’t want to give his hopes up.
“I don’t think he got one either.”
“(Y/n) doesn’t do Valentines day. She never has. Out of all the years I’ve known her, you’re the first she’s gave a card to.” Sam explained matter of factly, smile still lining his lips.
“Seriously Cas, does it have to be written out directly on that card?” Dean entered, still half asleep but aware of what was going on.
“She’s in love with you,” Sam finished. You had never talked to Dean about your feelings and Sam respected your wishes of not saying anything to anyone else. So if Dean could see how helpless you were, why couldn’t the clueless angel that sat in front of him? Cas thought it over for a second. Could it be true? He sure as hell wanted it to be.
“You’re sure?” he searched both of them for any indications that they were joking, not that he was very good at identifying humor.
“Dude, she’s absolutely smitten with you; wearing her heart on her sleeve, a blind man could see it. Hell, mom asked the other day if you two had something going on.” Dean stated and Sam looked up interested in the new information; even their mom knew. Cas thought about everything they were saying. Now it made sense and he was sure of it this time. He hadn’t been overthinking things, you always blushed around him because of him, everything became clear.
“I have to go,” Cas explained before instantly vanishing, his trench and suit jacket remained on the table but he took his card with him.
“Go be with your Valentine,” Dean added even though the angel was gone. Sam glanced up at his brother who wore a dork of a smile.
“I thought you said no chick-flick moments?” Sam questioned, a chuckle escaping him.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean’s face drew serious as he stood and stalked off towards the kitchen.
The smell of fresh roses awoke you. Stretching before you opened your eyes, you didn’t think anything of it. Not until you saw the blue eyes that had captured your heart, sitting beside you on your mattress. On your night stand was a vase with a dozen roses and there was a card for you beside them. Looking between the roses and the angel, you opened your mouth to say something but he spoke before you could have the chance.
"I love you,” Cas admitted, his eyes peering into your own. Was this a dream? "I realize now, I should of said that earlier. I just wasn’t sure that this is what you meant. I didn’t want to risk…,” before he could finish, you sat up and captured his lips with your own. Immediately, he returned the action and you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer. When the kiss broke, you couldn’t help but stare into his eyes. Everything you’ve ever wanted was sitting in front of you, admitting he reciprocated feelings for you.
“I love you too, Cas,” you smiled brightly, bigger than you had in a very long time. This perhaps was the biggest smile he had ever seen from you and it made him complete knowing he was the reason for your happiness.
“I got you these,” he pointed at the roses and reached for your card. You kept smiling, leaning over to smell the essence of the flowers.
“They’re lovely,” you gave giggling, knowing that’s what he had said to you earlier.
“Not as lovely as you,” he whispered and your eyes met his. Leaning in to kiss him again, you lost yourself in him. You never wanted to let him go. When you finally pulled away this time, he gave you one quick peck on the lips before placing one on the tip of your nose and your forehead, making you giggle again. This all seemed too good to be true. He began to laugh with you before he handed you his card. Sitting up straight, you opened it wondering what it would say.
“Its not easy, this life is very difficult. But its worth it, all because of you. You’ve made me feel welcome in times I felt I had no one else. You’ve given me purpose, without you I’d be nothing. I don’t want to see a day without you in it. You’re special to me, my (y/n). You always will be. Will you be mine?”
Glancing back towards the angel, tears welled in your eyes. You could only nod in that moment, for the tears unleashed down your cheeks. Cas’s thumb cupped your chin and wiped them away before they could stain your cheeks.
“There’s nothing I want more than to be yours, Castiel, and for you to be mine,” smiling, you kissed him again. This was the perfect Valentines Day, the best one you’ve ever had. You got your angel after all. The angel pulled you to him, holding you against him as if he’d never ever let you go.
“Mine,” he sighed happily, snuggling you closer.
“Forever,” you added, closing your eyes. All the worry from early was gone. You finally received your happy ending, though this was only the beginning.
Dean and Sam walked into the library after spending the better half of the morning shooting rounds at target practice. It almost felt like they were going to bring the whole place down with the way the gunshot sounds bounced off the walls and echoed to every inch of their home. They took a seat at the library table and poured themselves a glass of whiskey, each taking comfort in the silence.
Wait. Silence? That couldn’t be right. There were three hunters in the bunker the last time the duo had checked.
“Have you seen (Y/n)?” Sam asked, being the first one to realise that they were down a hunter. Dean took a sip of his drink and leaned back in his seat. Just once, he wanted to relax and not be bothered with something trivial like the lost case of (Y/n).
Words Magnus has spent a lifetime not hearing, honesty he’s rarely seen dancing in another person’s eyes. Not aimed at him, anyway. He’s never been loved by someone like this before, so raw, and open, and by someone who is unafraid to bear their heart.
Alec loves him, and Magnus’ soul is singing for it, the desperate hug they fall into an exercise in keeping them both upright. And in the aftermath of the Soul Sword and Valentine at the Institute, it’s what they both need, what they both have to have, just so they can keep breathing. It’s followed up by a portal back to the apartment where that love is reaffirmed between soft sheets, so neither of them are left in any doubt of the truth or depth of it.
Pairing: Taehyung x Reader Length: 1,974 Request: Hello!! Would it be okay to request a cute BTS fluff scenario where you end up befriending Tae after he realises you’re using him as a drawing reference in public and he asks to see the drawing? It’d be so cute apwmspajqpskspq ❤️❤️ (love your work!) thank you in advance!
“She was free in her wildness. She was a wanderess, a drop of free water. She belonged to no man and to no city.” - Roman Payne, The Wanderess
I was set out on a mission. I needed a muse. Something to get me over this god-forsaken rut. The rut that has been halting my mind, giving me nothing but absolutely zero motivation. It has been weeks and I still had not finished my big end of the term art project. I started it successfully, yet halfway through it I had nothing else to offer. Weeks later, and still nothing. It’s due in two weeks and I needed to find a new muse to kick me out of this hole of dreariness. So when my best friend texted me, asking to check out a new bar that opened up in downtown, I figured ‘why the hell not? Maybe inspiration will find me there’.
So, I really wasn’t up for the bar scene tonight, but I was up for doing anything to get me out of this endless cycle of nothingness. And if that meant showing up to a bar in the middle of downtown, then there I will be. I arrived to the bar, and it definitely looked new… vintage… minimal… all characteristics you’d expect from a scene in this part of the city. I walked inside and made my way to sit up at the bar, not at all surprised that _Y/F/N_ wasn’t here yet. She always had a knack for being fashionably late. Sitting at the far end of the bar, I took notice of how vivacious and lively this bartender was while making someone’s drink. You would have thought you were in the audience of a cirque du soleil showcase with all the twists and turns of his arms, bottles and glasses. But despite the overly done gestures, you couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.
“What’ll you have, Miss?” The bartender asks, looking at me with his crystallized hazel eyes after he’s settled the bottles and glasses down.
“Gin and Tonic, please. On the rocks.” He nods, and gets to work on my drink. I checked my phone for a message from my friend. Nothing new… yeah, she’s definitely still getting ready, I thought to myself. I turned around in my chair to observe the scene behind me. The dim lighting made everyone look overly happy, yet serene. They looked almost like shadows floating to the sound of the music playing in the background. A few high tables and couches were spread out along the walls of the building, leaving a small dance area towards the opposite end of the room, while a single pool table occupied the space just before the bartop.
I scanned my way back around, slowly observing every inch of the room. The details were breathtakingly simple but all too beautiful. My eyes reached the opposite side of the bar, from where I’m sitting and I see it. In all black, topped with deep blue denim.
The following morning the Bass jet took off before dawn had the time to tinge the sky with its pale pink stripes. Sat next to his wife, Chuck averted his gaze from her to guide it out of the round window at his side.
It was the first time in the past two days that he felt the necessity to turn his attention to something that wasn’t her; inevitably, as the plane gained altitude, he found himself staring at the city he had so passionately dreamed of conquering his whole life.
It was without surprise that he realized that the panorama broadening under him didn’t give him any sort of emotion. As he observed the tall building and the streets he had grown up thinking he was destined to own becoming smaller and smaller under his look, not pride, nor bitterness touched him. It was his now; his kingdom, his dominion, the most blatant statement of the absolute power he had conquered through pain, sacrifices and efforts.
And yet, in spite of everything it had meant to him, now nothing but numbness filled his mind at the thought of his ambitions, of his projects, of his so intensely craved role in that world he was expected to rule. It seemed all alien to him, distant, even irrelevant.
He was actually leaving it behind with an ever-growing sense of relief – relief from the meaning of his achievement, from its costs and, most of all, from the obligation to feel anything, whether that was satisfaction, rage or hollowness.
Not even guilt brushed against his conscience. He should have heard it screaming loudly, forcing him to support the weight of responsibility, but he didn’t. No matter how atrocious they were, the echo of his faults couldn’t reach him.
“There’s nothing quite as gorgeous as New York’s skyline standing out against the dark,” Blair wondered, sighing in front of the view.
The pull of her voice drew Chuck’s eyes towards her once again and, all of sudden, his chest was back to be a fertile ground for the most powerful emotions; she catalyzed them, forced them out of the impassiveness he was locked into. They all started and ended with her, with the strength of her glistening eyes. She was the only thing he managed to feel - the only one he wanted to feel.
He couldn’t stop looking at her, for she had the power to drag him out of his emotionlessness; watching her, he felt alive, dazed by his love and his gratitude for her. Over the past forty-eight hours, his stare had witnessed the changing of her demeanor several times and he had been overwhelmed by each side of her, as if they had presented themselves before him clearer than they had ever had. Strength, bravery and determination had made her the woman who had taken him by the hand and guided him to safety and life, but she had been much more; the desperate heart who had still chosen to trust him, the enamored, moved bride who had married him with no hesitation, the glowing spouse he had danced with during their reception and the passionate lover who had canceled months of deprivation with the first touch they had shared in the intimacy of her empty house.
The most wonderful, enigmatic woman. His wife. Blair.
He smiled at her. “I can think of at least one thing that is better,” he replied, reaching out to her cheek. He raised his eyebrows at her, darting her a sly glance as his smile sharpened into a smirk. “You.”
Blair rolled her eyes. “You’re such a flatterer,” she said through a giggle, leaning in towards him. His fingers indulged her movement and traced the side of her face in a caress, sliding into her hair when she placed a light kiss on his lips.
Pulling back, he eyed her. The Nile blue silk faille dress she was wearing lent her a both regal and delicate appearance; she looked sophisticated and poised, impeccable with her full curls falling over her shoulders and the string of pearls enhancing the neckline. Still, it was the glow of her skin that kept luring him, the vibrancy of her gaze; a blast of passion below a surface of perfection.
“I’m just stating the truth,” he observed, his voice become hoarse with sudden lust. He cursed the safety belt crossing her chest that kept him from pulling her onto his lap, freeing her from her classy attire and relishing the wildness hidden behind her unblemished composure.
Blair smiled pleased at him. Reading correctly the subtext of his tone and glimmer of his eyes, she laid back on her seat and crossed her legs slowly. “What a solemn compliment,” she commented, careful to make the fabric of her dress slid slightly up her thigh to expose a few more inches of skin.
His eyes widened at her gesture. The subtle way she had of provoking him was still the most tempting allure he had ever experienced. It was both challenging and gratifying; it had the exciting nature of a dare and yet it brought with it the awareness that the he was the one and only who could win her sweetly cruel game. Her refined, elusive invitations always led to the same outcome: he would have found the key to seduce her and her instinct would have triumphed over her enjoyment in prolonging his wait. His pride would have fed hers and pleasure would have left them both with a victory.
Chuck leaned in and slithered his hand under the hem of her skirt. His palm inched along her thigh as he buried his fingers in between her tightly crossed legs and pressed them against her skin. “In a couple of minutes, we’ll be free to unfasten these instruments of torture,” he told her.
Blair, who had closed her eyes and parted her lips at his insistent touch, nodded. Realizing that he had stolen her ability speak imprisoning her voice in a barely repressed moan, Chuck smirked victorious.
Her body shook with a shiver when his index finally skimmed over the border of her panties, and her legs spread. “Chuck,” Blair pronounced his name as an invocation, in a chocked, tremulous voice, urging him to stop lingering and to insinuate his fingers under the thin lace of her underwear.
And he was just about to do that when the flight attendant entered the cabin.
He noticed her immediately, but Blair didn’t. When he abruptly pulled back his hand, her eyes snapped open in surprise just for a second, before she realized the situation. She sat up bolt upright with a jolt and straightened her back, trying to compose herself.
Chuck leaned back in his seat staring at her. Though she quickly smoothed the dress’ skirt and adjusted her legs in a less compromising position, the flush brushing her cheeks revealed all of her arousal and frustration. He let out a chortle when she glanced up to glare at him and smiled slyly at the accusatory expression on her face.
He bent forward and placed a kiss on the side of her neck. “Remember, I never leave things unfinished,” he murmured swiftly into her ear just as the hostess approached their seats.
Blair gave him another dirty look. “You’d better not to,” she hissed as a discreet smirk took shape on her lips.
The flight assistant stopped by their side and cleared her throat to announce herself. “Good Mr. Bass,” she greeted her employer before directing her gaze to Blair, “and Mrs. Bass. Everything went well with the takeoff. We’re safely airborne. You’re free to unfasten your safety belts and move to the lounge, if you please.”
Freeing himself from the belt, Chuck gave her an abrupt nod. “My wife and I are going to need a few minutes of privacy,” he told her curtly to dismiss her. “We’ll let you know when we’re ready for breakfast.”
The woman answered with a polite smile and rapidly made her way out of the cabin, leaving the couple alone.
As soon as she did, Chuck stood up and, fixing his suit, he looked down at Blair.
A bright grin was stretching her lips and lightening her expression. “She called me Mrs. Bass,” she said in the most elated tone. Her doe eyes shimmered with delight when she brought them on him.
She sounded almost surprised, Chuck realized, and ecstatic; there was a dreamy note in her voice, a thrill of enthusiasm that made him smile back immediately. “Of course she did,” he stated proudly. “It’s your name.”
Her beam widened. “It is,” she uttered. “Blair Waldorf Bass.”
Once again, as he watched her unfastening her belt, Chuck was faced with the unquestionable fact that the look of joy and bliss on her face was what gave meaning and hope to his life; it was observing her that he was able to bring clearness into his present and to shape his future in his mind. Everything around him was blurred and confused; everything but her. She was the one who gifted his world with significance.
He bent on his knees and rested his palms over her legs. “I’m going to spend my whole life making sure you’re glad of being Mrs. Bass,” he told her, ducking his head.
It came to him then, as he spoke, that he would have done anything in his power in order to preserve her happiness, to never make her regret the choice she had made when she had vowed to spend the rest of her life by his side.
Even if his side wasn’t the safest or the brightest of places. On the contrary, it was often narrow and dark; uncomfortable to occupy. He was a complicated person living a complicated reality.
In spite of his best intentions to grant her joy, to dedicate her all of his devotion, his weaknesses and his flaws could have accidentally caged her in an existence of sacrifice and struggle. The most recent events proved it; standing by him, protecting him, she had found herself having to face terror and death.
His heart turned heavy with fright at the thought, at the idea of not being able to shelter her from the darkness of his past, from the shadows and the deep holes making his soul a difficult one to love. His hands trembled and clutched her thighs in a way that was a wordless plea for reassurance.
In a moment, he felt Blair’s fingers trapping his chin and gently pushing it up. Inhaling a deep breath, he gave in to her gesture and, glancing up, he found out that she had leaned over. Her face was so close to his that the tip of her nose almost touch his.
He noticed that her smile had changed; it hadn’t lost its delight, but its enthusiasm had softened. There was a tender sweetness about it now; it was caring and warm.
“I am already,” she said, cupping his cheek and stroking it with her thumb. “And proud,” her voice lowered to a whisper when her lips brushed against his, “I’ll always be.”
Closing his eyes, Chuck deepened her delicate kiss. His hands trailed to her waist pulling her skirt up as they slid over her sides. He was suddenly overcome by need; need to know feel her presence as strongly as he could, to let her show him that he was still there, still present; that what made him who he was, what made him the man she loved, hadn’t fallen down the roof of a skyscraper.
Slipping his palms under her bottom, he pushed away that fresh memory. His lack of pain, grieve and anger lost once again its importance the moment Blair clung her arms to his neck and allowed him to lift her up. Carrying her to the lounge, he buried his face into the crook of her neck as she wrapped her legs tight around his waist.
He could feel her. She was the piercing emotion cutting through his numbness; she was life, love, hope, tension towards the future.
A future she had chosen to share with him, Chuck told himself as he laid her down on the leather couch. She had done it consciously, with passion and conviction; she had trusted his ability to give her happiness. And it was his duty not to question her decision.
“You know,” Chuck said about half an hour later, his fingers trailing slowly up and down Blair’s arm, “you make eating a croissant look incredibly sexy.”
It was true; her gestures were unintentionally sensual. They were unhurried, almost ethereal in their elegance and delicacy. He had spent the past five minutes staring at her as she ate and found himself discovering a graceful eroticism in every movement her hands and lips had produced.
His food, two French toasts topped with marmalade, laid untouched on his plate. He was completely absorbed by Blair; she left him in a state of utter amazement. He couldn’t resist the magnetism she seemed to unleash to his eyes; he had to gaze at her, he had to touch her, to breathe in her perfume. She was inebriating.
Chuck leaned over. Her neck, which was partially covered by her hair, was an irresistible lure. His eagerness had left marks on it; races of his fervent kisses still reddened her naturally pale skin, giving him an immediate reminder that she belonged to him.
Just as he was about to press his lips right under her ear, Blair playfully pulled back and her curly locks followed the abrupt movement of her head, exposing the curve of her neck fully.
It was the clear sound of her soft laugh that distracted Chuck from his lustful thoughts and brought him to glance up at her.
She answered to his look with a complacent smirk. “You’re incorrigible,” she told him quietly, reaching out to the cup of tea set on the low table in front of them. The flight assistant had arranged their breakfast there, so that they could eat sitting side by side on the lounge’s couch.
Chuck shrugged. “Yes, I am,” he stated, raising his eyebrows at her. “Can you blame me?” he asked. “You’re an endless source of temptation.”
Blair giggled again. “I suppose I should take it as a compliment,” she replied before sipping her tea. She smiled naughtily at him behind the edge of the cup.
“Absolutely,” Chuck wrapped an arm around her shoulder, as, with his free hand, he grabbed his flute. “And I’ll be glad to show you my appreciation again after you finish your breakfast,” he took a taste of juice and then added: “The kind of homage I enjoy the most paying to you requires energy.”
“Then you should consider eating too,” she answered. She reached out to his fork, cut a piece of French toast with it and then lifted that small taste of food to his mouth.
Chuck took the bite she was offering with hooded eyelids and a pleased smile. He savored it slowly, enjoying not only the sweet flavor of the fried bread, but also and mostly the avid anticipation her deliberate gesture had brought with it.
When he opened his eyes again, Blair had her purse on her lap. After a moment, she extracted her phone from there.
A doubtful expression crossed Chuck’s face. “Blair,” he pronounced her name with a tad of perplexity, placing his glass back on the low table, “what are you doing?”
Blair ignored him. Instead of looking back at him and clarifying what she was up to, she started typing something, apparently deaf to his question.
Chuck frowned; he tightened his hold on her and pulled her slightly closer to gain her attention. “Blair?”
Blair glanced up from the phone’s screen to smile slyly at him. “Chuck,” she replied simply.
Realizing that she had no intention of sharing the details of what she was doing, Chuck let out a sigh. He was suddenly both annoyed and entertained by her teasing, indifferent attitude. “I thought you had suggested we’d ‘cut any communication with the world’ for at least a week,” he reminded her. Only ten minutes before, she had taken the papers the hostess had brought him together with breakfast and tossed them away, claiming that he didn’t need to read “people’s idiotic opinions” about their marriage.
“Actually,” Blair said, “I didn’t suggest anything. I made a rule out of it.”
Chuck leaned back on his seat adjusting his jacket. “So,” he uttered, “I’m not allowed to read the daily press, but you can use your phone.”
Without averting her eyes from the screen, Blair shrugged. “I simply need an information about our flight.”
The frown crumpling Chuck’s forehead deepened. “This is a private jet, Blair,” he objected.
“Oh! Really?” she exclaimed, fluttering her eyelids as if to express surprise. “So that’s why there’s 'Bass Industries’ written all over the plane’s side!” She shook her head, putting the phone back into her bag. “What a fool I am. I hadn’t made the connection.”
Irritated by her mockery and by the fact that she was purposely keeping something hidden from him, Chuck snorted. “Hilarious,” he commented rolling his eyes.
Blair chortled. “Don’t be grumpy, Bass,” she told him, resting her hand on his cheek. She pushed his face to side forcing him to look at her and, when she did, she smirked cunningly at him. “I just made a small research to see which destinations you can reach in eight and a half hours, leaving from New York and travelling on a direct flight.”
Putting the pieces of her deceit together, Chuck cursed himself for believing that she would have given up on her attempt to find out where they were heading so easily. She hadn’t, obviously; the docile acceptance she had showed the night before, when she had realized he had decided to keep their first stop a surprise, had been a mere façade. “So that’s what you were talking about with the pilot,” he said, as a scowl darkened his expression. “You asked him how long the flight would have lasted.”
Blair’s smile widened with blatant satisfaction. She slid closer to him and started tapping her fingers over his chest. “You were taking forever to get out of that limousine,” she said with a long sigh and an innocent pout curling her lips. “I was bored.”
“I was adjusting my scarf,” Chuck protested. Though he was trying to keep a straight face, he felt amusement tickling at the corners of his mouth. The adoration he had for her dishonesty was far bigger than his annoyance.
Blair laced her arms around his neck. She settled herself on his knees and slid her hand over his jaw as he trapped her in his firm hold. “And I took the chance to make small talks,” she said softly as, with her index, she traced an imaginary line down to his neck. “I couldn’t ask directly for the destination, though,” she added. “It would have been too easy, don’t you think?”
“You don’t like easy,” he stated. “You like me.” He wasn’t paying attention to the way she had tricked him anymore; having her sitting on his legs and her hands touching him, he couldn’t do anything but congratulating her for her small victory with a kiss.
Hours later they were flying above France. Europe had welcomed them with the beauty of a nocturnal sky, which didn’t let Chuck’s gaze catch anything but darkness as he looked outside the round windows. That sense of isolation made him feel relieved.
Being airborne meant being unreachable, and that was exactly the condition he wanted to experience; to be inaccessible, to create a barricade made of distance and loneliness to keep the world away from himself and from his wife.
He didn’t want anything or anyone to intrude their intimacy; not yet, at least. The idea of being exposed to eyes and voices that weren’t Blair’s disturbed him. He wasn’t ready for it; for people who didn’t know him and who couldn’t comprehend him as she did.
It had been with this conviction that he had accurately selected the first destination of their honeymoon. He was sure that, once Blair had seen it, she would have understood the motives behind his choice immediately.
A pensive smile on his lips, Chuck peeked at the door that led to the bedroom’s cabin. It was still shut, as Blair had left it when she had closed it behind herself. It had only been a few minutes since she had gone freshening up and changing into warmed clothes before the landing, but he already longed to have her back on his lap.
For hours, as the jet crossed the Atlantic, he hadn’t let go of her, nor Blair had showed any desire to part from his hands, which, sometimes avid, sometimes adoring, had kept stroking her body in a continuous succession of lustful and tender touches.
Realizing that his wife still wasn’t about to come back, Chuck reached out to his phone. Blair’s rule hadn’t been broken again after she had nailed down a list of three possible countries – “Switzerland, Austria or Germany”, she had written down on a post it before handing it to him with a proud expression –, but he was about to make an exception as well.
His reasons, though, had a little to do with curiosity. He simply wanted to make sure everything was settled before their arrival; impeccable, as Blair needed things to be.
Afraid that she might have heard him speak, he decided to write an email to the person he had hired to organize the place for their stay. He typed a few concise and strict sentences, took a couple seconds to re-read them and then sent the message. He didn’t have to wait long for the reply; the woman he had contacted replied to his message almost immediately, letting him know that his demands had been satisfied and that she and her staff were more than ready to welcome him and his bride.
Pleased with himself, Chuck turned the phone off. He decided that his satisfaction had to be rewarded with a drink and called for the flight attendant to order one.
When Blair stepped back into the cabin, Chuck was still sipping the scotch he had chosen to savor slowly. He glanced up to see her pacing towards the lounge and smirked at her sight.
She was wearing a quite dramatic blood red coat-dress; a full skirt blossomed under the waist belt and covered her legs up to her knees. It was a romantic and chic attire, which she wore with natural elegance.
Chuck lowered the glass and placed it on the table without averting his eyes from her. “You look like a dream,” he told her, instinctively leaning in on his seat as she approached.
Blair stopped by the side of the couch. “It’s what Dior couture does to a woman,” she replied with a shrug.
When her hand came to rest on his shoulder, Chuck took her by her waist and swiftly pulled her onto his lap. “I thought it was wedded bliss,” he pointed out, his voice tinged with a tad of irony a vague peeve. He made his hand slid under the wide skirt and grasped her leg possessively.
She raised her eyebrows at him with amusement. “Are you jealous of a dress, Bass?”
The look of enjoyment on her face made him smirk. He squeezed her tighter into his embrace and captured her lips in a kiss. “I’m jealous of everything that makes you glow if it’s not me.”
Blair shook her head lightly. He was expecting a witty reply, but she surprised him with a tender gesture; she brought her hand to his face and gently pressed her palm against his cheek, guiding him to rest his head on her chest.
Chuck closed his eyes, his forehead laid against the soft red fabric, and inhaled a deep breath.
“It is you,” she told him quietly as her fingers trailed up to his hair. “It’s always you.”
Inexplicably her words made him quiver. He suddenly felt overwhelmed by an emotion he couldn’t recognize; he wasn’t able to tell if it was pleasant, painful or both. It didn’t have a name or a meaning; it was just dizzying and weakening in a way that obligated him to hang on to her.
Blair’s arms wrapped him. Her hands, stuck firmly on his jacket, arrested the shiver running down his spine, allowing him to let out the breath he was holding. Chuck felt the touch of her lips on the top of his head and her embrace becoming stronger around him.
Her wordless comfort was a safe refuge. Whatever his heart was racing from, it abandoned him slowly, as, little by little, he regained control of himself.
When he moved his forehead away from the shelter of her chest and glanced up at her, Blair had an indefinable expression; it was tough, reassuring, hurting. Breathtaking.
One of her arms unclenched his back; she lifted her now free hand to his face and brushed her fingers lightly against his eyes. It was only when his eyelids closed at her touch that he realized the dampness of tears over his cheek.
Unconcern about their nature, whether they were tears of ache or joy, whether they were relieved or full of blame, Blair wiped them away with the tip of her index and smiled down at him. “You’re okay,” she said softly. “We both are.”
The lack of judgement in her tone, the way its lightness seemed to forget the moment of bare fragility that had just caught him, reminded Chuck that her presence and her love were the only things that truly mattered to him. All the rest – his twisted feelings and his inadequacy facing them – had to be flushed out.
Guided by that thought, he took her hand in his and brought it to his mouth. He canceled the salty traces of his tears by kissing her fingers one by one and, at last, he gripped her palm as if to show her that strength had come back to give force to his touches; to let her know he could protect her as well, to prove he wouldn’t have crumbled down – not with her by his side.
Chuck locked eyes with her. “We are,” he pronounced slowly and, as he did, he promised himself he would have always allowed her to compensate for his limits, because the trust he had in her was what would have given him the courage to never stop defending their hard-earned happiness.
 Some of my readers might feel as Chuck’s characterization in this chapter is somehow a digression. We see him being totally absorbed by Blair - his feelings and his thoughts are only for her. Chuck had to work hard to find his own stability and to learn that his life was worthy even without Blair (season 5 was, after all, about this necessary growth) and he painfully did; it’s not my intention to ignore it. In this phase, though, the most realistic option is, according to me, a momentary regression to his “emotional dependence” from Blair. It’s the most immediate reaction to the traumatic experience he has just lived. As I previously mentioned, his emotions are almost completely blocked in a sort of denial in this moment and Blair manages to break through it - especially on a physical level. Only at the end of the chapter, we see feelings winning over Chuck’s defences; and yet, they’re confused and barely recognized.
 Since this project is full of details, I’m going to post a picspam on Tumblr for each chapter, showing outfits and locations. Every detail has been accurately researched and it makes me happy to be able to give you the chance to visualize everything more clearly through images. You’re going to find the picspam on my Tumblr page under the tag “Journey To Glory”.
 I’m currently working on the first chapter. As I said, this is a pretty detailed project and it takes long to write. I hope my writes will be patient!
“Where are you, Joshua?” You murmur the question under your breath as if it were an incomplete or illicit thought–one that never quite makes it to the surface. It fizzles like bubbles in a soda, ephemeral as Joshua seems now, in retrospect. Now that Neku can actually stop and think, he’s been reflecting ever since.
“What are you talking about I’m not special?” Stiles stuttered as he looked up at his Grandmother who was smiling down at him.
The coven had decided to make Stiles the twins guardian, this decision was made because they lived outside of Whitechapel, where the Coven resided, and needed someone non magical being to keep an eye on them.
Originally Jane had been put in place and spent one day a week with a Coven member so that she could be an official magical guardian when she reach sixteen, this was only allowed as Jane knew about the magical world and the Coven was always nearby to help.
Carl walked into Y/N’s room with a girl following close behind. Y/N glared at her. She felt a tingle of anger or… jealousy. She couldn’t understand why. “Who is she?” Y/N asked. “Oh sorry, almost forgot to introduce you two,” Carl said, “Y/N meet Enid.” Enid looked at Y/N and half-heartedly smiled. “Hi,” Y/N mumbled, getting a bit hot in the face. “Is she your… Girlfriend?” Y/N asked, frowning, “well no we’re just friends,” Carl responded. Enid looked at him looking a bit disappointed, “yeah,” she mumbled, avoiding eye contact with her. “Well, Y/N, here’s the water you wanted and I’ll leave you two alone for awhile. See y'all,” he said closing the door behind him. Enid stood and stared at Y/N, it seemed like she was reading her. “Uhmm…” Y/N mumbled as Enid bolted out of the room, Y/N saw she was tearing up.
Y/N was walking with Carl as her hand brushed his. She felt tingling in her stomach. She stopped and looked into his eyes. He stopped too, looking confused. She reached and held his hands. He looked at her, his face bright red. She suddenly realized what happened and dropped his hands. She looked away and rubbed your elbow, “sorry, something just came over me,” she mumbled, “I don’t mind,” he whispered back, still looking into her eyes. She couldn’t understand what happened, do I like Carl? She thought, her heart racing. She suddenly jogged away from Carl, feeling a wave of emotions, and ran to her house. Carl looked after her, confused. He shook his head, looked away and started walking again. Y/N bursted open the door to her house, ran to her bed and collapsed onto it. Her face started to get hot and her eyes swam with tears.
Carl banged on the gate in boredom. What is even going on, he thought, why do I feel so weird around Y/N now? He heard fast steps behind him and turned around. There he saw Enid looking dim. Then she opened her mouth, “Carl?” She croaked, “do you still… Love me? You told Y/N we’re just friends. What about.. our kiss?” Carl felt his stomach drop, do I? Do I love her anymore? He thought. He stood there with his mouth open with Enid looking confused. Carl finally found the words, “yes, Enid, I didn’t know you wanted to be together like that.” “Well I do,” Enid said, a smile creeping on her lips as she pulled Carl into a passionate hug.
Y/N finally stopped crying and decided to step out on her deck for some fresh air. As she was making herself comfortable she glanced in the distance over by the gate, a couple kissing. Ah Rick and Michonne so in love, she thought. Then looked again, wait that isn’t Michonne, she thought, and thats not Rick. Her stomach dropped as she made out a worn sheriff’s hat on the boy. Water seeped out of her eyes, she slapped the tears off her cheeks. I don’t even love him! She told yourself. She ran back into her house, a hollowness in the pit of her stomach. I’m going to bed, she thought.
Enid woke up on the forest floor with Carl by her side, snoozing.
Everything was dark, he couldn’t see a thing. “Carl!” Screamed a faint voice in the distance. He knew that voice, he knew wh…
His eyes bolted open as he was jolted awake by Enid. “Carl!” Enid mumbled urgently. He slowly got up. “Oh thank God you woke up, you were talking in your sleep,” Enid remarked. Carl felt a tingle of embarrassment, “what did I say?” “Oh nothing much.” She mumbled, “we should get up and eat something I’m hungry.”
Y/N spotted Carl and Enid in the distance and bolted over to them. “Hi, Carl,” she said, out of breath. “Oh hi Y/N,” Carl replied back as they kept walking. Enid looked away. “Carl, sorry I forgot where the water is, um, can you show me please?” Y/N begged. “Oh yeah, of course,” he replied, “Enid, you can go ahead and get some food, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Carl jogged over to Y/N with a pale of water. He was going very fast and forgot to slow down in time, thus falling onto her. The pale of water spilled all over her and Carl. His face got the brightest red she’d ever seen. “S-sorry,” Carl said, brushing some of the water off and getting up. She kept looking at him, grabbed the collar to his shirt, and pulled him back onto her. Carl looked shocked but a little turned on at the same time. His breathing was shaky and she kept looking into his eyes. She felt an uncontrollable urge to feel his lips on hers. She finally gave in and pulled him into a long and passionate kiss. Their kiss came to an end and they both were breathing heavily. There was a pause, “Do you love me?” Carl asked. “I don’t know, Carl…” Y/N replied, honestly. “I don’t like it when you’re with Enid,” she whispered. He had no words to say back. She looked deep into his eyes. She broke the contact, with him still looking at her. “You have to go, Carl, Enid will be mad,” He slowly got up as she did too. He brushed himself off, “well do you still want that water?” He chuckled.
“Why were you gone for so long, Carl?” Enid questioned. “Uh, the water spilled and I had to get more,” Carl replied, not exactly lying. “Okay, well, I’ve already eaten, I think I’m going to go hang out with Michonne,” Enid uttered.
Welp thanks for reading… I hope you liked this even though it’s not very well written. 😋 There will be more parts coming soon so stick around for that if you liked this one! And if this is the first you’ve seen of my work you can go back and read the previous parts to this story if you’d like. ❤❤❤
Disclaimer: This is an interactive horror story, meaning that it will be told as though you are the main character. There is the potential for things to become graphic, either to you or the other characters. Please keep this in mind as you read. May include bodily harm, however there will be no sexual scenes. Also, this is one of the very few horror-themed stories I’ve written, so the scare quality may not be the best. Nonetheless, I’d like to thank you for reading and hope you enjoy it! Note: This will definitelylook/feel best if you have your night settingturned on (blackbackground and whitetext)
A man clothed in a suit as black as the night that surrounded him stood on the sidewalk, ignoring the rain that poured heavily around him, and watched the grisly scene before him. Two crumpled cars sat in the intersection of the road, the horn of one blaring continuously. The man in one of them had run a red light and smashed into the other. The sickening crunch of metal had rung out; alerting those in nearby buildings to what had happened. Those people were now streaming out into the street, frantically calling an ambulance and shouting for help. The man in the black suit stepped off of the sidewalk and into the street, striding slowly towards to commotion. He passed by the first car, the man inside was already gone from the world and was not on his list. Instead, he continued to the second car and its driver, the heels of his shoes clipping sharply on the wet pavement. He came to a stop at the driver’s side and his eyes roamed slowly over the inside, a truly gruesome sight indeed. A small movement directed his eyes back to the form slumped over the steering wheel. He remained still as the driver moved again and fell back into the seat, a small groan escaping from her lips. Glancing down, the man checked the watch that adorned his wrist – one more minute. In the distance, he could hear the sound of sirens approaching; however, they would not make it in time. He returned his gaze to the girl before him. She seemed young, a pity that she would have to depart so early. He solemnly watched her last few moments as the muffled sounds of panic continued around him. He began to ready himself as the seconds ticked away when the girl’s head turned towards him. She opened her eyes and stared at the man standing in the rain. He froze, unsure if she was really able to see him or not. She took a shallow breath and whispered quietly, “Please, not yet.”
It was in a flash that it all started. In a flash that the Yoongi you knew disappeared completely.
Domestic abuse, implied Non-con/rape, and violence. Just general
triggers that if you feel uncomfortable with don’t read this. If I
decide to turn this into a serie then this is your warning because
I’ll be touching on darker themes.
You had a picture perfect life. Or at least that’s what you thought.
The joy and happiness of loving and being loved.
Yoongi was not the best at showing it but you knew that deep down he
was kind that somewhere, under all that hardcover, there was a decent
human being. Maybe it was rushed to move on together after only
dating for 8 months but you were happy, happier than ever before in
your life. And you only had him.
However, as he towered over you, you couldn’t see it in his eyes
anymore. There wasn’t a drop of love in his gaze anymore. It hurt,
the first hit, it was painful. But nothing ached more than your
pride. The second one wasn’t as painful as it was bruising since your
mind had already disconnected from whatever was happening.
You tried to get away, stop him, but he only gripped harder and
pushed you around easier. He would always win in this. You were, no
matter how hard you tried to deny it, weaker than he is.
It had all started in a flash but the rest was a blurry mess. The
trigger had been the day he decided to visit you at the coffee shop
you used to work at. He sat there with his computer and large
headphones on watching over you move from table to table with a
large smile every time you met his glances. Which at one point he
“ Is that your boyfriend ?” Your boss asked as he pointed at
Yoongi. Namjoon co-owned the small café with his ‘bestfriend’
Seokjin. While the elder, Seokjin, took care of the kitchen and the
pastries while Namjoon was in charge of anything planning wise. You
started working here long before you met Yoongi, it paid well and
they were all some of the nicest people you came to know. You just
nodded shyly smiling back at him.
“ Ask Hyung to make him something sweet ” He put his hand on your
shoulder and laughed at your expression “ It’s not everyday that we
get to have your special someone here ”. Namjoon couldn’t deny the
sting in his chest as he said those words.
Yoongi had been watching that as well.
“ Is that why you’re so cheerful about going to work ?” He growled
at you as soon as you stepped into your shared apartment. You knew
something was wrong since he hadn’t spoken a word on the way back.
Which only meant he had something on his mind that was bothering him.
“ What do you mean ?” You kicked off your shoes, oblivious to the
storm that had been going on inside of him.
“ I saw you flirting with the blond ” Yoongi’s voice grew more
violent, louder, as if his point will get through by yelling.
“ Don’t be silly, Yoongi, he’s my boss ” You made your way towards
the kitchen to get a glass of water.
“ So you’re telling me you weren’t wagging your tail at him like a
slut back there ?” He followed right behind.
“ Yoongi!” You flinched when he gripped your wrist turning you
around and pushing you against the kitchen counter. The blow making
your waist feel like it momentarily shattered.
“ Why ? Does it hurt ?”
“ Don’t call me that ” You hated that it came out as a whimper. You
shouldn’t sound weak.
“ A slut ?” Yoongi smirked “ But that’s just what you looked like.
God knows what you do behind my back”. You knew that Yoongi’s ex had
cheated on him multiple times, which was why you excused his
obsessive jealousy most of the time. But he had never laid his hand
on you before.
However, when you pushed him off you, unable to take the counter
digging into your back like a knife, he pushed back harder. It became
like that, you would push away a step and he would shove back double.
Yoongi took back that step and his hand landed full force on your
cheek, sending you immediately to the ground. You were taken aback,
scared, but more than everything in pain. Not only physically.
“ It’s not like I’m sleeping with the guy!” and maybe that was the
last straw in his patience. Maybe it was your fault, you thought. If
you hadn’t cut off that last string, all of this wouldn’t have
“ Maybe you need a reminder ” He pulled you up to your feet again,
cupping your chin with one hand and pulling your face again “ Of who
you belong to ”. Your tears fell onto his hand as he clashed your
mouths together on yours so hard your teeth felt out of place.
It was in a flash that it all started. In a flash that the Yoongi you
knew disappeared completely.
When you refused to kiss back, he pressed harder. Hit harder until
you finally gave away.
You woke up the next day on the cold ground of the kitchen floor,
every single bone in your body screaming in pain, protesting against
your every movement. Standing up didn’t feel like the right thing to
try, a bolt of pain jolted through your spine sending back to the
ground. The only comfort you had was your tears so you cried. For
what felt like hours.
In the end, you couldn’t just stay there and got up to shower on
shaky legs. You tried to block it, block every image from appearing
in front of your eyes as you washed off the dried up blood and cum
from between your legs and back. As you tried not to worsen the
bruises on your wrists and sides by touching them. You let the water
stream down uninterrupted.
You didn’t want to confront it. You didn’t want to blame him. So, you
“ Y/N !” Slut Jin
called again snapping his fingers in front of you. You were startled
back with a soft whimper as you body protested at the sudden
movement. Your heart clenching painfully.
“ I’m sorry, did I scare you ?”
“ No-no, not at all. I was just … ” You nervously pulled down
your sleeves afraid he would see. Not Seokjin. “ thinking ”
“ I asked you if you were alright ” He looked at you with concern
and clear worry “ You look a bit pale”
“ I’m just a bit tired ” You feigned a smile feeling the inside of
your mouth burn where you bit too hard to keep your mind off …
Yoongi “ I’ll get back to work ”
“ Yeah, sure. You could go home if you want ” Seokjin looked around
the space, there weren’t many clients there “ I’ll tell Jimin to
come out instead ”
“ No !” You spoke more violently than you had intended “ I-I can
work ”. Jin’s eyebrows furrowed but you didn’t want to go home yet.
“ I’m really okay ” you repeated, to yourself mostly.
You walked away hoping and praying to a god you never really believed
in that your legs wouldn’t give out and hold you up until you were
clear more his sight.
Jin was suspicious of your behavior,
since you would usually be a bright laughing mess, only coming second
after Hoseok. Not this gloomy and actual
mess. He ended up voicing his concern to Namjoon who came later that
day. Having forgotten where he put his car keys and spent three hours
looking for them, when they were in his pockets all along. Namjoon
suggested they wait and see, not to rush into any conclusions, maybe
it was just not your day. Seokjin, after long persuasion, agreed as
You went home unnoticed and collapsed on the bed, letting your every
muscle relax from all the strain you had to make them go through.
Laying on your back, you stared at the ceiling. The lights from the
outside flickering into different shadows that kept you company until
you fell asleep.
Only to be awakened when you felt a body crawl next to you and Yoongi
“ I’m sorry I lost control yesterday ” He spoke so quietly you
almost didn’t hear him “ I have no excuse. I shouldn’t have
overreacted like that ”. Yoongi hugged you tightly.
“ Yoongi ” You pushed him away slightly to relieve the pressure “
“ I know, baby. I’m sorry. You know I love you ” He kissed your
forehead “ I’m nothing without you ”. And just like that the
repetitive cycle of hating then loving him all over again started.
Let me know
what you guys think of it. Should I continue it ?
Tsukiyama, Ayato and Naki getting comforted by their s.o. after a nightmare? :3
No problem anon :3
Tsukiyama: He had had many nightmares before, often waking up drenched in sweat, shaking with fear. Tonight was one such night. He sat bolt upright, the jolt of his action waking his s/o, who had been sleeping beside him. They yawned, sitting up against the wooden bedhead. “You alright, Tsukiyama?” They asked sleepily, draping an arm around his shoulders. His breathing slowed a little as he calmed down. “Oh, yes. Just a nightmare.” He replied, relaxing into his s/o’s warm embrace. “Well it wasn’t real, so you don’t need to worry.” They stated brightly. He couldn’t help but smile at their constant positivity.
Ayato: He had nightmares occasionally, mostly about the death of his father, how it could have happened, if he could have prevented it…. He awoke with a start, just before he saw his father get chopped to pieces by a Dove’s quinque. His s/o was still awake, reading a book by the lamplight. “What’s wrong?” They asked, concerned at his rapid breaths. “Nothing important, just a stupid nightmare…” He muttered, turning onto his side. His s/o reached out their hand to brush their fingers comfortingly through his dark hair. After a while, his breathing became peaceful once more; an indication that he had fallen asleep.
Naki: His s/o was actually quite used to Naki’s nightmares. On this particluar night, Naki awoke with tears streaming down his face. “Yamori…” He whispered hoarsely, clutching at his heart as the ever dramatic Naki would . His s/o rolled their eyes, though they did feel a tug of sympathy for the boy in their heart. They wrapped their arms around him, whispering that it was alright and that it was just a dream. It was quite a well-practiced routine. Naki fell asleep again after just a few minutes, and his s/o mused at how child-like he really was.
Natsu ran straight past the tiny cabin to his
Perhaps he’d been running around too much this
particular night, but he was extremely exhausted. He was ready to drop dead
onto his rickety old bed again, even if it did smell funny and make a lot of
noise when he moved around on it. He could look forward to getting some rest for
the remainder of the day, and meet that Lucy girl back at the edge of the
village again the following evening. The excitement of the night had completely
worn him out.
He slowed to a jog, struggling to control his
breathing, as he continued onward—and so many thoughts ran through his head as
he did. So Grandpa Makarov had been the one who had told Lucy about this
legend? It probably was, according to her words earlier. What exactly had he
told her, though? He hadn’t seen him for a while now, but he figured that he
must be pretty old by this point. Did he remember everything? What exactly
would Lucy be able to figure out by going to ask him questions about that
photograph if he hadn’t told her the first time?
All these thoughts flew through his mind, but
he couldn’t really organize them in any shape or form—it was just too confusing.
Lucy could probably figure something out. He didn’t want to think too hard
about it; it made his head hurt.
He finally reached the familiar grove and wound
through the brittle brush until he came out into a clearing, where his sleeping
area was—a one-story wooden home, completely obscured from sight by the trees
and bramble. It had been built specifically for him to live in in secrecy—at
least, according to the unsigned note he’d found on the porch when he’d first
discovered it, which was nearly five years ago. He still had no clue who had
penned that note (or how this particular person had even known who he was), but
he was grateful for the shelter. It had been much better than that toolshed of
a building that he’d been forced to hole up in for years. The home was very
heat-resistant—there were very few scorch marks anywhere in the house, no
matter what he touched with his hands. He’d learned to stop questioning it
about a few months after he’d moved in.
He entered through the front door, closing it
carefully behind him, and meandered through the dark corridors until he reached
his sleeping room. He promptly collapsed upon it, not even bothering to get
undressed, and blankness clouded his mind as he fell into the comforts of
unconsciousness almost immediately. He probably wouldn’t get all that much rest
(sleep never came easily to him), but it was better than constantly staying
“can you do a theo imagine where both of you are together you’re the same creatures as he is, could possibly share a half of his sisters heart and your both very protective of each other”
“I’ve only got one knife left”
You and Theo along with the rest of the Chimera pack were currently in the middle of the woods, training. Theo thought that getting you all in a place that was perceived as scary, especially during the night, would somehow be helpful in getting you to focus on getting stronger.
He had put you and Josh up against each other, examining each of your abilities and weaknesses. He knew you weren’t supposed to have any weapons helping you because in a real life situation you would only be able to rely on your chimera abilities. But he also knew you weren’t exactly the strongest in the group and he didn’t want to see you getting hurt, so he allowed you to carry knifes whilst training. He cared a lot about you, some would even call it love, some would say Theo didn’t have the capability of loving someone; either way, you knew you loved him. The way he would take care of you, protect you, he felt the two of you were perfect for each other, as if you shared the same heart; which funnily enough, you did. Even from a young age he knew how much he needed you, how much he loved you.
“Y/N! FIGHT” his voice was loud and demanding, giving you clear instructions,
Then Josh came at you, lilac and blueish silver streaks radiating from his hands. He walked toward you, a small grin on his face. At each step he took you stayed in place. Your claws came out as you took a deep breath, before raising an eyebrow and smirking. You were going full on at him.
The two of you growled loudly before starting your attacks at one another. While Josh had electricity, you were an extremely fast thinker. You observed his movements and expressions to determine what he was going to do next, and with that advantage, you were able to jump and run before he was able to harm you.
You kept this up for an impressive amount of time, playing a game of chase with Josh, who was obviously getting frustrated by now. From the corner of your eye you could see Theo eyeing you, clearly proud of the way you beat Josh so easily.
Then terror struck. His expression went from proud to terrified in a second and taken by surprise, your did too. Suddenly, you could feel a bolt of pain jolt from your back down your legs and to your arms, before you fell to the ground.
“GET AWAY FROM HER”
Josh stood above you, grinning. He’d won. Immediately, he was pushed aside harshly by Theo, causing his back to hit the wall beside him.
“I TOLD YOU TO STOP” Theo continued to yell, his voice directed at Josh. He looked down and his expression softened. He lowered his body so that his hand was able to touch your cheek. “Are you alright? Does anything still hurt? Do you want me to -”
“Theo, I’m fine”
“Are you sure? I mean, from where I was standing -”
You cut him off by kissing him, your lips softly on his. It was just a small kiss but it was enough to shut him up.
“Okay, you’re fine. I just don’t want to see you get hurt, you get that right?” He said as his arms slid around your waist and he pulled you closer to him.