As Riley walks around the table kissing their parents hello, she apologizes for their late arrival and explains that Lucas would be along shortly… He was still parking the car. Riley had just settled into her chair, when Lucas came in bearing gifts. He too made his way around the table kissing everyone hello & just to tweak Cory a bit, he gave his wife an exaggerated kiss hello.
Could you do a graves x reader where the reader is plus sized and very self conscious because she feels she isn't pretty enough to be with him but then it's gentle and kind bc I'm in love with him
(I was so touched by this request, because I’m plus size myself, and I always wish there was more xreader fics with plus size readers. I hope you like it!)
You aren’t pretty enough for Percival. You know that for a fact. He’s so unbelievably handsome, that you can’t imagine why he’d want to be with you. He could have anyone. You mention your disparate attractiveness levels to him once when the two of you are snuggled up on his sofa, and the look on his face is so aghast that you almost wish you could take it back.
“What do you mean?” he’s almost incredulous, and it makes your heart flutter a little bit to know that he seems to have never thought about it.
Nonetheless, you gesture to your plump form and say, “I mean, look at me.”
This is the wrong thing to say, apparently, because his astonishment quickly turns to suspicion.
“Who told you that you weren’t ‘pretty enough’?” he asks, air quotes and all.
You snort. “No one had to tell me, Percival. I figured that one out for myself.”
His expression softens, and the concerned pinch of his eyebrows makes you frown. He raises a hand to cup your cheek and presses a kiss to your forehead.
“I love you, alright? If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be with you. To hell with anyone that doesn’t think you’re positively gorgeous.”
Your lip quivers a little, and you can feel tears welling up in your eyes even though you feel stupid for getting all weepy over something like that. He leans in and kisses your lips softly, rubbing his thumb back and forth across your cheekbone.
“Darling, you’re perfect. Don’t let anyone tell you differently. And if they do, point them out and I’ll hex them for you.”
You laugh a little a that, in spite of the tears that still threaten to fall from your eyes, and the corners of his mouth turn up in a small smile.
“You’re an idiot.”
He chuckles. “Only where you’re concerned, my dear. Love makes a fool of all of us, I think.”
“Yes, perhaps it does.”
You’re still not sure you’re pretty enough for Percival, but finding out that he doesn’t think so makes you fall in love with him just a little bit more.
This is my surprisingly lengthy one-shot about Max’s first prom. I tried so very hard to shorten it, but I just couldn’t stand to take any of the precious Malec out of it. So here’s all the fluffy Malec Family mess you could possibly stand. Enjoy, and welcome to hell.
Alec wasn’t one to boast. Really, he wasn’t one to brag or swagger or gloat. It wasn’t his style. But when it came to his family…
It all starts because of Jax (what a cutie pie). He used to have movie nights every Friday with his mom, and sometimes with his football team. Some of those memories are a little bittersweet now, but he still carries that association and that makes it feel weird for him to be on a team and not have movie nights.
Jax recruits Ray and Kendra first, because he figures that out of the rest of the crew, they’re the most likely to agree to the idea. Much to his surprise, not only do they agree, but they’re as enthusiastic about the idea as he is. Kendra is a big sucker for Bonding Activities (she probably tries to arrange those little ‘get to know you’ games during dinner, like “wow guys, it’s awfully quiet. I have an idea! Let’s all share something about ourselves–”), and Ray loves anything that gives him a chance to cuddle or marathon TV and movies, so of course, he is so excited.
Sara overhears them discussing it and inserts herself into the conversation. She highkey is in love with the idea–like Jax, she used to do movie nights too, with Laurel and Quentin, and is 100% willing to help them orchestrate their little scheme.
They all drag Stein into it next. Martin is rather resistant, at first, because, well–”that’s rather pointless, isn’t it? plus, aren’t we supposed to be focused on stopping Vandal Savage? We can’t let ourselves get distracted–”. But Stein really is a softie at heart, and all it takes is Jax beginning to talk about how he and his mom used to do movie nights and how much he misses it for Stein to start to crack, and before he even knows it, he’s entirely complicit in their plan.
Convincing Snart is possibly the biggest ordeal, his initial response to the suggestion is to close the door to his quarters in their faces. They’re forced to resort to guerrilla tactics (which is to say, having Jax reprogram Gideon to lock Snart out of his room until he agrees). Snart grumbles a lot about it at first, but the others are pretty sure that he’s actually rather pleased to have an excuse to participate without seeming soft.
Mick doesn’t even take any convincing–it goes like this: ”Hey Mick, do you want to watch some movies with us?” ”…sure.” (though, the only people brave enough to sit in his personal space are Ray and Len)
They extend an invitation to Rip, but he doesn’t respond. so they’re not really sure if he’s going to come or not. Much to their surprise though, as soon as the movie starts, he’s slipping into the room and settling on the floor by Sara’s feet.
Eventually, the movie nights do become a regular thing, which can be problematic because they all have very different opinions as to what movies they should watch
Ray loves fun scifi movies and thinks that the rest of the crew should too, considering that they’re–you know, time travelers. His tastes are hardly the worst of the crews, but if he tries to make them all watch The Fifth Element again, they’re probably going to strangle him.
Stein likes war movies, though to his credit, he knows they’re not for everyone and doesn’t really try to push it
Kendra likes two types of movies–cute romcoms, and (a taste that she shares with Mick) action films, complete with utterly unnecessary explosions and violent (but well-choreographed) fight scenes that Sara criticizes endlessly.
Rip is endlessly fascinated by documentaries, particularly the ones about animals. To him, it paints an interesting picture of the past, gives him a perspective on the past that he never really got while working as a Time Master in the 21st century. It drives the rest of the crew crazy, especially because Ray and Kendra sulk like children every damn time a predator kills a deer or a rabbit or something .
Sara is a proponent of horror movies and heart-wrenching tragedies. Not because she has any particular fondness for them (they’re okay, but not her favorite genres–she lives for chick flicks like Legally Blonde and Mean Girls) but because, through force of will, she is able to remain stonefaced and emotionless while watching them, and she rather enjoys seeing the rest of crew (well, maybe not the Rogues, but definitely the others) wince and get weepy during the most extreme of her picks.
Snart, true to form, likes crime and heist movies–well, that’s not necessarily true. He claims to like those movies, and those are always the ones he suggests. Does he actually like them? Will the rest of the crew ever find out his actual favorite type of movie? No one knows.
Jax doesn’t actually have a favorite type of movie–he honestly likes them all, and is down for whatever the rest of the crew wants to watch, which often makes him the deciding vote when they’re torn between two or three films. It also means that, generally, when Jax wants to watch a film, they do.
There are some movies that they decidedly can’t watch. Rip (being the ultimate Time Dad) probably checks IMDB’s parent guide to make sure that there’s nothing that will upset them–because they’ve learned a hard way that any films that involve the death of a significant other (or just romantic tragedies in general) are not fun for Ray, and that films that involve child abuse are an absolute no-gofor Len.
When they first start movie nights, its probably really awkward. They’re not quite sure what to do with themselves. But by the time they have their third or fourth movie night, they don’t even care anymore. Kendra makes them all fancy coffee drinks. Rip and Stein probably team up in the kitchen to whip up one of Clarissa’s fancy dinner recipes, and then they probably all try to squeeze into the couch. Ray usually ends up snuggled between the side of the couch and Mick, with Len sitting sprawled on the floor in front of them (eventually, they both become desensitized to Ray’s habit of clinging during films, though the first two movie nights are laden with withering glares and awkward apologies). Jax and Sara usually push their way onto the couch as well. The assassin has a habit of propping her legs up on the other occupants of the couch, which is kind of annoying until they get used to it. Stein gets the loveseat to himself, on the excuse that trying to squeeze into a seat with him probably will not have a positive effect on his continued health. There’s really no argument against that. Rip usually ends up sitting on the floor in front of Sara (because nobody else can tolerate her habit of using human heads as armrests), and Kendra more often than not will end up on the floor too, between Rip and Snart.
Then they all eat M&Ms and greasy pizza and drink cute coffee drinks and are cute and hAPPY
if you're taking prompts, can I request post-fall Will waking from a nightmare? how would Hannibal react?
(By being a giant gooey ball of feelings, probably)
Will bolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat, a scream
half-hanging from his throat. Beside him, Hannibal shot up instantly and flipped on the light, hands
gripping Will’s shoulders and searching his still-focusing eyes. Will panted harshly.
Hannibal held the back of his hand to Will’s forehead. “The
fall or the kitchen?”
“Kitchen,” Will choked out, “then drowning.”
“Oh dear. Come.” Hannibal kicked back the covers and held
his arms open. Will went without hesitation, crawling half into Hannibal’s lap
and curling his knees into his chest. He was still trembling a little, and Hannibal
ran soothing hands up and down his back.
“Thanks,” Will murmured, nuzzling his face into the soft
fluff on Hannibal’s chest. He extended one tucked-in elbow, then the other,
wrapping his arms around Hannibal’s neck.
“This one was different,” Hannibal said. It wasn’t a
Will nodded. “You said something,” he murmured quietly.
Will didn’t reply. Hannibal prodded him gently.
“What did I say, Will?”
Will notched his head under Hannibal’s chin, fingers absently
stroking the nape of his neck.
“I love you.”
Hannibal stiffened beneath him.
“I said this in your nightmare? Or are you making a declaration?”
Will bit his lip and a flush stole over his cheeks. Hannibal
could feel it warming his skin.
“Nightmare,” he replied. Hannibal tried to shrug off the
sting. Will let out a hitching breath. “Only when you said it, you started
“And you wouldn’t stop. Every time you said it, a new wound
opened up.” Will gripped him tighter as he started to shake again. “You just
kept talking until the blood was bubbling out of your throat and you couldn’t
really speak, only you kept saying it anyway and it was just pouring out,
everywhere until it filled the room and I was drowning, choking, I couldn’t–”
Will obeyed, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes. He
exhaled slowly, repeating the pattern until the shaking began to subside.
Hannibal just kept running his fingers up and down Will’s back, slipping
occasionally to twist into his hair.
“I shan’t insult you by offering to translate this.”
Will laughed, a low and halting rumble. “Thanks.”
They lay there together until Will’s limbs began to cramp.
Slowly, he extended each leg in a vibrating stretch, then uncurled himself
entirely to roll onto his side, facing away. Hannibal turned with him, eyes
intent on the back of Will’s head.
“Would you look at me, please?”
One hand clenched into a tense fist and then released. Will
turned over his shoulder, meeting his gaze half on.
“Properly,” Hannibal nudged.
Will flopped over onto his back, scrubbing a hand over the
flecks of bristle on his face. He blinked a few times and then looked at
Hannibal with surprisingly fearful eyes. Hannibal opened his mouth.
“Wait,” Will said. He twisted himself so they were facing
each other fully, his knees pressed into Hannibal’s thigh.
“I – uh, I lo–” The words stopped and swelled thick on his tongue,
lodging stubbornly. Will grimaced.
Hannibal smiled and cupped his cheek. “And I, you,” he said,
and kissed him. He withdrew briefly to gesture to his clean and wound-free
Lips tingling and curved into a bashful sort of smirk, Will
“Yeah,” he replied, splaying a hand over Hannibal’s
collarbone, “but you didn’t actually say
Hannibal bit his tongue on the barb of his retort, instead
taking up Will’s hand and placing a kiss on the inside of his wrist.
“Would you like me to?” The words rumbled from his lips
directly into Will’s pulse. Will shook his head, curls scattering over his eyes.
“Save it for a special occasion,” he suggested, “I’ll save
mine for a normal day.”
“We don’t have normal days, Will.”
“Sure we do.” Will snuggled back into the pillows and fit
himself along Hannibal’s side, throwing a leg over his hip for good measure. “Yesterday
Hannibal slung an arm around Will’s shoulders, his brow folding into a puzzled frown. “We gutted a bank manager yesterday.”
Hannibal laughed in pleasant surprise. “Of course.”
Will squirmed and adjusted his limbs until they were
perfectly slotted together, laying one palm over Hannibal’s heart. Hannibal
pulled the covers over them both, tucking the duvet neatly around Will’s
shoulders. He reached to switch off his bedside light then placed his larger
hand over Will’s, rubbing a thumb across his knuckles as he slid himself
back into slumber.
When Hannibal’s breathing grew shallow and even, Will turned
his face into the crook of his neck. His lips moved gently over his skin, forming
the same words over and over again, hidden by the dark. Hannibal’s mouth twitched
just slightly at the corners and he squeezed Will’s hand.
Hi :)) could I request a Dean x reader where they both have feelings for each other, but Dean refuses to act on them because he believes that everyone he loves ends up dead. One night after a long hunt, Dean carries a sleepy (Y/N) up to her room, tucking her in, but when he goes to leave she asks him to stay. So he does and in doing so, he realizes that he’s been an idiot because he wants to spend the rest of his life with the girl in his arms.
A/N: This request is so friggin’ cute, thanks to whoever send it in :)
The moment the last vamp dropped you could feel your adrenaline wearing off, fatigue quickly taking its place. You flicked the blood from your machete, watching the as the little red splatters flew to the dirt ground. It was one of those strangely haunting moments after a hunt, the time that should be filled with congrats and slaps on the back, but instead was filled with silence and the thought that you’d just slaughtered six living things. Monsters though they’d been, it was still a bit painful, knowing what you could do, knowing how easy it could be.
A small yawn escaped your lips. It was really no surprise you were tired, you hadn’t slept for a near 48 hours, wanting to push through the hunt as quickly as possible. Hunts alone were exhausting and you were really starting to pay for those missing hours of sleep.
Dean and Sam’s footsteps echoed behind you, you’re unspoken signal to pack up and head out. The three of you walked in silence, pausing at the Impala to pass a ‘good job’ back and forth. Dean gave you a small smile, his eyes crinkling in the way you’d just be wrong not to love, pulling your door open for you before moving to the driver’s seat.
You slid in to the back, the feeling of soft leather beneath your fingers and back helping relax your limbs. The sound of the Impala starting up, a familiar purring, filled your ears and you let yourself smile quickly, tucking yourself further in to your seat. The hairs on your arms started to stick up as you continued down the road, the temperature lowering in the back of the car where the heaters delayed. You felt a shiver run down your spine, jolting you in your seat.
“Here, Y/N,” You felt something soft and warm cover you, your eyes opening just slightly to see Dean’s jacket covering you from your neck to your knees. His smell wrapped around you, the smell of cheap whiskey a drug store cologne, the same one you’d come to associate with home and with love. You gave him a small smile, hoping he’d be able to see it in the dim light, and hoping that maybe, just maybe he’d see all the bigger feelings stacked up behind it.
“Thank you,” The interior of the Impala started to fuzz as you closed your eyes, the thoughts of green eyes and dark blonde hair slowly taking over your mind.
Her soft lips turned up in a smile, eyes fluttering shut as she thanked him, words quiet and sleepy. He watched her in the mirror for a moment, her breath rising and falling beneath his jacket, her lips parted slightly.
Sam slapped him, pointing towards the road.
“Dude, stare at her at home, getting all of us killed in a car crash isn’t going to help you confess your feelings,” Dean glared, his gaze reluctantly going back to the dark asphalt. Y/N was a much better sight no matter what Sam said.
“Shut up, Sam, she’s sleeping, not deaf,” Dean hissed, earning an eye roll from Sam as his little brother slumped back in the passenger seat.
“Oh come on, you’ve liked her for how long now? Four months? Five? Dean, she’s not stupid, she’ll figure it out on her own if you don’t just man up enough to tell her,” Dean scoffed.
“Man up enough to tell her? This isn’t about manning up.”
“Right, right, I forgot. This is about how you break everything you touch or whatever.”
“Shut up, Sam.”
“Well guess what Dean, you’re not some weepy, brooding teenager, you’re an adult. At least you’re supposed to be.”
“I said shut up, Sam,”
“I know you hate talking about things, but hear me out-” Dean tuned him out. He’d gotten pretty good at it over the years, ignoring the ramblings of his touchy-feely little brother. Sometimes it would be about their parents, sometimes about their life, or their past, or god forbid girls. If Dean had a dollar for every time Sam had gone off about his feeling for Y/N, well he’d have about five months worth of dollars.
It was the same thing every time too, something about how Dean was being a child or being whiny, or this, or that. And maybe Dean was being whiny or childish or whatever, but in the end his brother was wrong. Dean wasn’t scared of breaking Y/N, he was scared of killing her.
Everyone Dean had ever loved had died. His mother, his father, Bobby, Sam a few times, Jo, Ellen, the list went on and on. All of their deaths, every single one of them, on his shoulders. He couldn’t watch Y/N go too. He couldn’t hurt anyone else, especially not her. So if that was Dean brooding then so be it. He would come to terms with acting like a child if it meant Y/N was safe.
He glanced back at her then, her figure curled up beneath his jacket, tucked against the seat and the car door. He smiled to himself, wondering if maybe he lied hard enough he’d be able to say it was enough just being her friend.
He knew that wasn’t true of course, but he drove on silently anyways, his thoughts and his brother’s continuous rambling slowly eating away at him.
You flickered in and out of sleep on the way back, catching bits and pieces of words and conversations. The thing that hooked you was how persistent Sam was, you knew he tended to go off on his own little tangents, rants about how unhealthy you and Dean ate, or about how the Lord Of The Rings truly were the superior books, and every time you’d ignore him, opting to make faces with Dean, mouthing insults across the room, but this tie was different. This time it was a bout you.
“I swear it’s like you try your hardest to make yourself unhappy-” You smiled to yourself, wondering why you were dreaming about Sam judging Dean’s life choices. Probably because it happened all the time, but it was strange you were dreaming about Sam judging Dean’s life choices involving you.
Sure you’d dreamed about Dean, more times then you could count, but that was different. In your dreams it was always about his lips on yours, his arms wrapped around you, hands running down your waist, him cupping your cheek as he smiled against you, legs tangled together. It was never Sam yelling at him about his feelings.
“You think you’re just doing the best for people but-” You shrugged as Sam continued on. The conversation became more and more choppy, darkness overwhelming you once again.
Sam finally stopped talking when they reached the bunker, his head perched on his hand as he stared around the inside of the garage. Dean pulled the keys from the ignition, giving a yawn as he pushed open the driver’s door.
“Should we wake her up?” Sam asked, his eyebrows raised as he gestured to the back seat. Dean smiled, looking through the window. He shook his head.
“No, she hasn’t slept the past few nights. I can carry her in,” Dean gave his brother a small wave towards the bunker. “You should go get some sleep your self,” Sam smiled, understanding the love behind Dean’s words even if Dean hadn’t quite understood himself.
“Sure man, just don’t stay up too late yourself okay? You’re not invincible,” With that Sam walked in to the bunker, his foot steps echoing off the high walls.
Dean untangled Y/N from his coat and the seat belt, pulling her out of the car as gently as he could manage. She was cold against his arms, the warmth from his jacket gone, and he held her up, one arm beneath her legs, the other around her back. He ran his finger tips against her arm as he walked from the garage, trying to share his own heat with her.
She stirred in his arms as he started down the silent bunker halls, smiling as she turned closer in to his chest, her hands tangling in his shirt. God she was adorable. Dean pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, savoring the few seconds he was getting with her. Because no matter how brave Dean could be standing in front of a monster, or a ghost, the thing he would always be best at would be playing hide and seek with his feelings. Never quite getting to the point of pushing them out of that dark little corner where they stayed hidden.
Maybe he’d admit them to her someday, long after his blood had turned to alcohol, liquid courage being the only thing that truly promised he’d ever utter those three simple words. Eight letters long and still so terrifying.
Instead he just held her, telling himself with a little time he’d burn this out, even when all he really wanted was the taste that her lips would allow.
You started to wake up at the sound of humming. The thump of Dean’s heart and warm chest beneath your cheek. You nestled closer to him, your hands wrapping in the fabric of his shirt. The tune made you smile, audible notes of Hey Jude filling the air. It was strange to hear him singing something other than a classic rock song. He’d told you once his mother had always sung the song to him, The Beatles being one of her favorite bands.
His humming stopped as his walking did, the noise of him opening a door replacing them. The thought made you sad, knowing what it meant. It meant that this moment was over, the moment of you and Dean. In the morning you’d still be just friends and neither of you would talk about this. One of you thinking the other was asleep, one knowing the other would never be open to think anything else.
For a moment you agreed with Sam. Not with his calling Dean childish, but with knowing Dean would never admit his feelings. Dean keeping quiet about them didn’t mean he was childish at all, you knew better than that. Dean was scared. Both of you were scared, not wanting to tell the other what they really felt.
And you knew that neither of you would ever say a word of your feelings. You’d live in a shared silence of the truth, your platonic friendship killing anything else. You’d never been good at that stuff, neither had Dean, and still somewhere in your sleep riddled mind you told yourself now would be the good time to speak up.
Soft covers tucked around you, a warm hand sweeping back the stray hairs from your face.
“Night Y/N,” Dean whispered, his lips pressing to your hairline. You could feel it as he moved away, the sound of his boots moving along the wooden floor.
“Dean,” You hoped he’d heard you, hoped you had actually said the name of the man you’d been in love with for weeks, not just dreaming it as you always seemed to do.
“Yeah?” His reply came back just as quiet and your breath caught in your chest for a moment.
“Will you stay?” There was no reply, only the deafening silence from the other side of the room. Then the soft scuff of boots as they dropped to the floor and bed springs creaking as another person climbed in next to you.
He almost didn’t stay. He nearly wasted the one moment he’d been thinking about for the past five months because maybe, possibly, just by chance someone could get hurt. Deep down Dean thought he just might understand he wasn’t the reason the people he loved had died. His love wasn’t poisonous, or deadly, it was just love.
Dean finally started to realize that as he let his boots drop to the floor. He let himself crawl beneath the blankets next to her, let himself wrap his arms around her, let himself smile when she tangled her legs with his, her feet still cold even despite the blankets. For the first time since he was four, Dean let himself be loved.
To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before - A Playlist by Jenny Han
1. “Please Speak Well of Me” by The Weepies: I came back to this song again and again because I could picture Lara Jean listening to it as she wrote her letters. It’s so sweet and full of yearning.
2. “Crazy” by Alanis Morissette: This song has such great momentum. You feel like something big is on the verge of happening. It’s a great song to listen to if you’re writing a book and you need something big to happen.
3. “Only in Dreams” by Weezer: I could completely picture Peter driving around in his mom’s minivan listening to this song at top volume.
4. “Alone Again (Naturally)” by Gilbert O’Sullivan: Lara Jean has been in love a lot, but she’s always alone in love, and she doesn’t actually mind it much. I can see her singing along to this song and smiling.
5. “Teenage Love Song"by Rilo Kiley: Jenny Lewis has the sweetest voice, and this song tells a whole story of love lost. I like that it takes teenage love very seriously because I do too.
6. "The Shoop Shoop Song (It’s in His Kiss)” by Betty Everett: This song is on the Mermaids soundtrack, which Lara Jean listens to while organizing her first-week back-to-school outfits.
7. “The Longest Time” by Billy Joel: Lara Jean loves to bake and she would definitely bake to this song.
8. “Our House” by Crosby, Still, Nash & Young: Lara Jean is a girl who loves to be at home, to be cozy and putter around the house. For me, this song is the embodiment of that feeling.
9. “Thirteen” by Big Star: There is no song more nostalgic than this. It feels like a high school experience I never had but wish I did. “Won’t you let me walk you home from school? Won’t you let me meet you at the pool?”
10. “Love That Girl” by Raphael Saadiq: This is so Lara Jean to me. It’s modern but it feels vintage at the same time, with the Motown claps and call and response choruses.
11. “Heartbeats” by The Knife: I listened to this song over and over while writing this book. It’s very angsty and emo and kind of tough.
12. “I’m Gonna Get You Yet” by The Dixie Cups: In a lot of ways, Lara Jean is a throwback kind of girl. She loves ‘60s girl groups, vintage clothes, and the romance of a different time.
13. “Big Girls Don’t Cry” by Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons: This song of course appears in Dirty Dancing, the quintessential coming of age movie for teenage girls who dream big.
14. “Love on Top” by Beyonce: I love how hopeful this song is. It’s so driving around with your sisters with the windows all the way down.
15. “P.S. I Love You” by Nellie McKay: An open window, a breeze, and a glass of lemonade – that is this song. And incidentally, the sequel to To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before is called P.S. I Still Love You.
His world was tinted red; red of the ray shields, red of
anger, red of pain, red of the Sith’s eyes and skin, red of the blade that had
just sunk into Qui-Gon’s unprotected abdomen. Beautiful storm-blue eyes gone
wide with shock and pain, mouth parting in a silent sound, Obi-Wan watched in
frozen horror as his Master (his love, his life, his galaxy) crumbled to the
he was screaming, red rage boiling through his veins.
had had this dream before, many, many times. He knew every step, every swing.
The shields fell, Maul fell, and then Obi-Wan fell to his knees beside
Qui-Gon’s prone form, gathering the older man and pulling him into his arms.
you can read the ending on AO3 if you are so inclined.
for all the readers and people who’ve reviewed this story or sent me comments–thank you, my gratitude is beyond measure, really. i hope you’ve enjoyed reading this story as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it.
and, on a related note, as i’m certain this will be my last Everlark fic, at least my last multi-chapter one, i want to thank you immensely for all the support and encouragement over the years. i’m so grateful to be a part of this fandom. it’s been a hell of a ride!
happy new year to you all–i hope 2017 finds every one of you happy and well!
Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of past smut, mentions of death, violence, demon!Dean, good ol’ fashioned dirty talk, make outs, angst, really cruel insulting so please don’t read if that’s a trigger.
Summary: This is part III of Marvin’s Room. Dean’s died, came back as a Dean, slept with the love of his old life while in demon form and now Sam and the reader are on a mission to cure him. It’s a lot of Dean being angry and mean and a lot of the reader wishing he wasn’t
A/N: My KitKat @unadulteratedstorycollector asked for pt. III so I have given into her. This part had the working title of Come Thru (An Interlude) because I’m pretentious, but also because I liked the concept of making this part into like, a short place where we can hear both Dean’s and the Reader’s thoughts about the situation. But somehow it grew to nearly 6000 words. I’m sorry.
*Italics are meant to be read from the reader’s POV.
Sitting in the dark—in room 7B—was not how Dean
imagined things would go. He had bigger and better plans than this. But he let
her get to him, and in turn she let
Sam get to him. And now, here Dean sits, in the pitch black dark of their
bunker, waiting for the inevitable, waiting for what he can only imagine is a
half-cocked plan thought up by his brother, and most likely blindly supported
by her. Although, Dean isn’t 100% sure what they have planned; he has some
get home — angus & julia stone // hero — family of the year // world spins madly on — the weepies // in these arms - the swell season // my silver lining — first aid kit // heart beats slow — angus & julia stone // please speak well of me — the weepies // i’ll forget you (ft. sia) — lior
“She supposes the reason she tells him is the same reason she kept his phone number all those weeks."
Notes: Perhaps my first foray into a fandom shouldn’t be what promises to be a multi-chapter fic, but the idea struck me so I’ll go with it, and hopefully a few of you will join me on this journey. Hopefully they’re hot terribly out of character. Enjoy.
She knows before she calls him but she needs to tell him before she loses her nerve and he might be an asshole who’d want to see a test with his own eyes so she doesn’t even bother taking one, just calls the number he’d programmed into her phone (that she’d ignored for weeks because she doesn’t have time for dating) (and yet—) and tries to remind herself to breathe and—
She hopes her voice isn’t shaking.
He sounds pleased, if a little surprised.
“We need to talk.”
No point beating around the bush here.
“Everything all right, love?”
She squeezes her eyes shut because God, she liked him and he was nice and he actually sounds concerned even though she blew him off and he’s going to hate her, probably, but if things were different—
But it’s like a band-aid, right? Just gotta pull it off.
BLOOM: a mix about goodbyes, moving on to better things, and growing. featuring: flatsound, local natives, and angus & julia stone.
01. around us - jonsi || 02. generator ^ first floor - freelance whales || 03. stranger things - local natives || 04. line of fire - junip || 05. see you soon - benjamin francis leftwich || 06. please speak well of me - the weepies || 07. miles away (acoustic) - years around the sun || 08. wherever you are - angus & julia stone || 09. sinner’s sonnet - andrew whitman || 10. refuge - the antlers || 11. home - DIIV || 12. wait - m83 || 13. evergreen - AKW || 14. i’m free - flatsound || 15. for now - emily yacina || 16. friend of all matter - noel thrasher || 17. time went by - willow youth || 18. drowning here with all my friends - infinity crush || 19. close - lizard kisses || 20. bloom - emily yacina || 21. this is not like home - great lake swimmers