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#mind can be overly paranoid. heart can be too protective of himself. and those idea make them believe the other has it out for them

sneeb-canons · 2 months

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Headcanon #500:

Mind is afraid that when he distances himself from or above the others, that he will be too far gone to come back down. That when his paranoia gets the best of him, he'll shut everyone else out and then be completely alone with no way back to where he was before.

Heart is afraid that if Mind is right, with the idea that what he does isn't genuine, that he's being manipulative without realizing it. Then therefore being Whole without himself there is the better option. That he'd be thrown out because his ideas would then be "not worth it" or even "vile"

Soul is afraid that no matter what he does or how good things will be, they'll always eventually split up again or even end up worse. Even then he has no clue what he's supposed to do or be during everything, and so because of that he'll never be whole. Or worse that he'll never really "feel" whole.

#kiiiiiiiinda just saying what is a bit talked about in the album but eh #i like this #fun fact: i made this & saved it as a draft back when it was just barley over 100 #finally being posted at 500 #wanting to post my own at each hundred mark cos why not #i say that but there's only one more submission in the queue atm soooo #send me your headcanons now to make my own ideas for special occasions get it like special hahaha [please send more i only have so many]#[idk what to do after I run out help]#haha anyway #next are my old tags from when i first made this post #cj soul #cj mind #cj heart #chonny jash #wow did KJ just attempt to make an angst headcanon? never thought that would happen #anyways idk how much this makes sense but eh it works #if theres anything to get from this or how my ideas with them work #mind can be overly paranoid. heart can be too protective of himself. and those idea make them believe the other has it out for them #soul has no idea how to really deal with that let alone what he's supposed to be #or something along those lines #idk its 5am man idk what im talking about #i need to go to bed pfft #chonnys charming chaos compendium

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violetnotez · 3 years

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Haaaaiiii! I don't know if you've done this before, but can you do a headcanon with Midoriya, Bakugou, Todoroki, and Kaminari (separately) dating a slim thicc reader who's waaaaay to kind to everyone for her own good? Sorry if that was specific lol. It just suits my life.

HC: Slim Thicc + Overly Nice Reader | BNHA

Music Genre: Pop | BNHA

Characters: Midoriya, Bakugo, Todoroki

Warnings: cursing, suggestive content

Music Collection | Tip Jar | Requests!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

Shop Owner Note: The fuq how did you describe me in four words lmaoooo-I really liked this idea alot!!!!! Also I only did Bakugo, Izuku and Shoto caus emy brain got fried, so hope thats okay!

Midoriya

THIS GIF ISNT APART OF THE HC AT ALL I JUST FOUND IT AND NOW IM FEELING SOME TYPE OF WAYYYY😳😳

Midoriya most definitely drink his respect women juice

He was raised by his mother after all

BUT

doesnt mean the boy cant be a little perverted-

He just loves your body!!!!!

How can he NOT love everything about it, from the way your school tights slightly squeeze your thighs to the point where he feel like he cant breath

Or when you wear his shirts and its tighter around the chest and flowy around you waist

Mmmmmm lets not forget your hero suit- this man would probably kiss the shoes of the person who made your suit

Cause DAMN they really made it as tight as possible and he just loves it sm

Lets be real this dude has probably popped a boner by accident just thinking about your hero suit 😶

ANYWAYS 💀💀💀💀

He is very much respectful about you and keeps his raging hormones horniness to himself

He is ALWAYS making sure you feel comfortable in your relationship, whether its from holding hands to cuddling, he will always make sure you give your consent

Now, when it comes to your kindness, this is something Midoriya probably loves the most about you

But he does find it really concerning when he notices you say “yes” to everything somebody asks you to do for them

And running yourself down, not looking as energetic as yourself

He is very observant, so he notices little things that signal you are little overwhelmed

Like your clothes arent as perfectly ironed as they used to be, you seem to be forgetting your own things while remembering to bring everybody else’s, your smile seems strained, and you just look stressed

He is so incredibly empathetic- it pains him to his s/o look so distraught

It does anger him a bit that these people can so easily take advantage of you, and not even care that you arent feeling your best because of what they asked of you

But he swallows down the anger, offering to help you with whatever you need at your dorm room

He tries to make it as stress free as he possibly can, bringing your favorite snacks and playlist of music to calm your mind

But at some point hed give you a very gentle talk,,,,

He knows you havent been feeling too great, whether you deny it or not, and he wants you to know that its perfectly okay to not say “yes” to every person

He knows you mean well and you want to help everyone out of the generosity of your heart, and he loves that about you

But you as a person are important, and you come first over anyone

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Bakugo

Like Midoriya, just LOVES your body

Like cmon, how can he NOT

Dude is a ass+boob man change ma mind

At first he deifnitely denies it-

Him??? Stare at your ass??? Pshh he was looking at the oven baka, if anything your ass was blocking his view-

You would know you caught him red handed cause he face would get redder than Momo’s hero suit and he would actually stutter—-

Which would make him extrmeely annoyed and he’d be cussing a storm+be in a grumpy mood for an hour or two

But once you two get more comfortable in your relationship-

NO HOLDING BACK

He will have use every opportunity to just be meannnn

And by mean

I mean turn slapping your ass into some sick game

Like if you dont yelp and cuss him out whats the point?

Once he slapped you so hard he legit left his big ass hand print on your butt cheek and you were about to slap his smug ass back....

But off a 50ft building 🙃

Also a big softie too

Like when you to cuddle he loves cuddling into your chest 🥺🥺

To him it’s just so comfyyyyyyyyyy

Honestly, Bakugo can’t understand at all how you can be so nice to people

It confuses him???? But he finds it really....nice???

Like half the stuff you do for people Bakugo wouldn’t ever dream of doing

He knows he’d either give that person an intimidating, dirty look or just laugh at them, cause yeah right he’d waste his time with their stupid problems

Ouchhhhhhhh

But you are totally different than him-you had a lot more patience and sympathy than he had, always coming to everyone’s rescue it seemed like

He finds it attractive and to him, it confuses the hell out of him how he does

But what bothers him is how much time you spend away from him

He won’t ever admit it, but he feels lonely when you’re not around

And what’s even worse-is by the time you do hang out with him, your too tired to even properly pay attention to him after running around and doing everything for everyone else

Bakugo the Attention Whore

One day this dude would have enough, as he’s been getting the bad end of the stick for a good couple of weeks——

He just barges into were ever your at, and doesn’t give to shits what so everrrrr

Bakugo has one mission in mind: getting his s/o back

Wouldn’t acknowledge anyone but you, grabbing your wrist and yanking you out of the room even if your protesting with him

“The hell are you doing Bakugo, let go-“

“No 😠”

“Pleaseeeeeee I was in the middle of working on something-“

“I said NO 😠😠😠”

Angry Pomeranian Activated

Once stop dragging you until he locks you in his room, forcing you to hear him out

He HATES being emotional or open, but at that, he starts spilling his guts through gritted teeth and choppy sentences,,

Saying that you waste too much time in thise “extras”, that they don’t deserve as much time as you give them, and that you have more “important” things than do all their work for them

*cough cough him being the more important thing

But hoenstly, you feel a little bad for him,,,,,

So you compromise with him and promise you’ll spend more time on him

He’s pretty happy with that,

but now he takes it one step further to make sure you deifnitely have enough time to hang out with him

If he’s around when someone asks you for help, he’ll cut them off and lie straight theough his teeth, saying you two have a “date” and squeezing you close to him with an iron grip

“Wait-Bakugo-we didnt have a date planned-“

“Tsch, now we do-“

Shoto Todoroki

I have said this timeeee and timeeee againnnn

But Shoto really is the definition of innocence

So really, it wouldn’t ever dawn on him on how killer his s/o’s body is

He’s just kinda like....yeah I know they have a butt and chest? Doesn’t everyone?😶

This poor Boi someone help him

It only really sets it after a few months of being together that he’s actually really, really in love with your body

Like how did he never notice how good you look in leggings?

Or how soft and comfortable your chest is?

And why does he want you to squeeze him with your thighs? 😳

Hormones are ragingggggg

And also veryyyyyyyy protective over you

Shoto is very observant and quiet in social situations, usually opting to check out his surroundings instead of trying to be sociable

So he’ll catch from time to time classmates commenting on you and your figure, and it never sits very well with him

At first when these incidences happened he was very conflicted, not understanding this intense jealousy and need to protect you

But after a while of contemplating his feelings, he understood it was because he was protective of you

And ohohoohohoh

This man is PROTECTIVE

He does little things you would never reallly notice until you actually do

Like when he takes you home after hanging out or a date, he lingers a little longer outside your door to make sure you’re inside safely

Or when you’re walking together he will make sure your walking inside the street and away from the cars

Also has a tendency to grab your waist or your hand when a group of men come your way

He just gets paranoid okay 🥺🥺🥺

And because he’s so protective, he doesn’t practically like that you’re being taken advantage of sometimes because of your kindness

Especially when it comes to other men

On a few occasions Shoto has spotted you in a sticky situation with a guy who was being a little too close for comfort

It would make you uncomfortable of course, you had a boyfriend you already loved a lot-

but you felt kind of bad just being a total bitch to this guy who desperately wanted a chance

So you’d just awkwardly laugh and smile with their stupid pick up lines, trying your best to be polite but also show you weren’t interested

But Shoto at this point has radar for when your in trouble, and just pops out of nowhere 💀

He’s not the type to flaunt his relationship by impulsively kissing you or anything like that, but he’ll show it in subtle ways

Like calling you “dear” or wrapping his arm around your waist

Honestly, the look of pure relief and comfort in your face shows more than Shoto could have ever done,,,

And that Shoto was deifnitely someone that was more than just a “guy fiend” and soemthing like that

Also Shoto would give them a look that could kill and that instantly scares the shit out anyone lmao

These dudes faces would deflate like balloons real quick, cause at this point everyone knows who Shoto Todoroki is

And how the hell can they compete with that

Instant “oh shit my bad” type energy

After those incidents, Shoto locks down way harder

He practically has you glued to his side, and he doesn’t let go

Like at all

Get used to it cause for the rest of the day Shoto is gonna be following you around like some body guard 💀

None of these characters or shows are my own, only the storylines and narratives I create are mine. Copying, stealing, plagiarizing, rewording, or using my storylines in other media, claiming to be your own, or reposting without my consent is not allowed.

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mf-despair-queen · 6 years

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I’ve Put A Spell On You - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Stiles Stilinski/Reader

Word Count: 11,207

Summary: Stiles is revisited by the witch that lured him into a sexy night a year ago. But, this time, she’s back for him - not the souls of kids.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Oral (both receiving), Public-ish Sex in a Bathroom, Doggy, Teasing, Bondage, Sexy Finger Sucking, Dirty Dancing

Notes: I honestly don’t think this came out as well as I wanted or hoped, but it’s still rather cute. Happy Halloween! Sequel to Hocus Pocus.

Stiles walked out of his bathroom, rubbing a towel through his hair. Tossing it aside, he pulled the red shirt over his head, his blue plaid pajama pants dragging along the carpet. Pulling back the blankets, he crawled into bed, covering his legs up to his waist. He grabbed his alarm, setting it for his early morning wake up call. Before he clicked off his lamp, the boy sighed, his eyes falling to the date.

October Thirty-First.

He felt familiar pressure against his legs, turning to spy the black cat he inherited making her way up his body until she was curling up on his side. Stiles smiled down at her, petting the silky black fur of the cat. “Tomorrow’s the day, Salem,” he whispered, expecting no response. “Halloween.”

The cat looked up, meowing through a yawn.

Stiles chuckled, the light fading from the room, He relaxed into the bed, the cat purring against his side. He felt her body rise and fall as she slept, sleep beginning to wash over him. One final thought race through his always active mind before it shut down for the night. I wonder if something interesting will happen this year. Will she come back?

The tingle in his shoulder went unnoticed when the clock hit midnight - officially making it Halloween. Mischief night was upon Mischief himself because he didn’t know the things he thought about so often was already beside him.

Salem was gone when Stiles woke up. The boy panicked when he realized he overslept his alarm, rushing to get changed for school. He didn’t take the time to find his cat for the last year, bouncing around while pulling on his Nikes, his bag in hand when he left the room. The shower running in his room wasn’t a sign that something was amiss, the man speeding away to school to get through a long day of tricks, treats and flying toilet paper through the halls.

At the end of the day, the McCall pack was gathered around their Alpha and human’s lockers, discussing their plans for that night. Part of them didn’t want another odd occurence to happen again considering the witches they had seen, resulting in bits of their soul drained. A year since then, and no one could predict what was going to happen. There had been no immediate signs that they had returned, but the night was still young.

“Are we sure that a giant Halloween party isn’t a bad idea?” Stiles asked sarcastically, his normal pessimism present. “You’re planning to have the entire student body together in one place. Isn’t that like… the optimal place for these witches to show up and have a feast available.”

“There’s safety in numbers,” Scott reminded the human. Stiles scoffed, shaking his head. “You’ll be there, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Stiles groaned. “It’s a Lydia Martin party. Everyone knows those are the best.”

“Well, thank you,” Lydia said proudly.

“How did you get Derek to agree to use the loft again?” Allison asked. “Last time we had a party there, he wasn’t too thrilled about it.”

“What Derek doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Lydia hummed, picking at her nails. Stiles rolled his eyes dramatically, slamming his locker shut. Lydia saw what he did, huffing. “Don’t give me that look. He’s down in Brazil visiting Cora. He won’t even know.”

“We’re going to die,” Stiles sighs. “We are so dead.”

“But you’re coming?” Scott asked again.

“Yes!” Stiles screamed, flailing his arms. “I will be there! Did you need a ride?”

“No. I finally got the bike fixed so I can head there myself.”

“Alright. I’ll catch you guys there.” Stiles paused before he turned to leave, staring back at your friends. “You’re sure this will work? If they do come back and we are all together… I don’t know if we can protect anyone. You know what happened last year. They will have a field day with how many souls are sitting in Derek’s loft.”

“It’ll work,” Scott reassured. “We will be together and we won’t fall for any of their tricks this year.”

“Alright,” Stiles sighed. “If you think so.”

Stiles waves goodbye to his pack, heading for his powder blue jeep. His mind raced, recalling the way he had been lured into the woods just a year before, the stories he was told as a kid no longer stories. They were a nightmare called reality and he had been in the center of it. Before tugging the door open, he turned to the treeline of the Beacon Hills Preserve that were near the school, straining to try and hear any sort of whisper of song that blew through the wind, tempting him towards the decayed, weathered house that held no resemblance of life. They had checked the house many times and it seemed to be falling apart more than it seemed someone lived there.

Driving down the road, his heart pounded, a sense of dread beginning to settle over the Stilinski boy. The closer he got to his house, the more unsettled his stomach sat. He felt like he wanted to vomit, but he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was his overly active mind thinking back on what happened over and over again. He kept reminding himself how it felt to realize that the young witch he encountered had used him, using him and his soul for energy. Yet, it made him sad to think that he was just a pawn. He thought the time was special and he never had felt better - though it wasn’t the best feeling to wake up alone, wondering if it was real or a dream.

Then again, it never felt good to wake up in bed alone after sex. He didn’t want that to happen again.

Stiles killed the engine when he pulled into his driveway, collapsing forward with a groan against the wheel. The horn honked loudly under his weight, a noise of discontentment filling the cabin of the jeep. “Why can’t my life be normal?” he asked himself, banging his head a few times against the horn. He knew normal wasn’t in his vocabulary, and he was glad to have the supernatural in his life. But, sometimes, it made his life overly complicated when he just wanted a day to be a teenager. He wanted to go to a party, get drunk, dance like a fool, and maybe even let loose the pent up hormones that were raging in his male body in many different ways in many different positions with a beautiful girl.

Kicking the door open, he slid out, taking one last look at the woods behind him. “I swear, let today be simple.”

His dad wasn’t home, probably shutting down some teenage punks that were doing all sorts of misfit around the town. The Stilinski house was quiet, almost creaking in age. Shoes were left in the doorway, the door locked behind Stiles when he walked in. He adjusted his backpack on his shoulder while walking up the stairs to his room, the wood squealing uncomfortably under his heavy footsteps. The house whined around him, a cold chill running down his spine that made him stop just as he reached the top. Stiles glanced behind him, trying to see if something was amiss, the same unsettled feeling looming over him.

But there was nothing.

A shaky breath left his mouth, Stiles running towards his room quicker. If something was there, he wanted to take refuge in his room. He kept a stash of mountain ash there just in case as well, so if something supernatural was stalking him, he would keep them out with that. Before opening the door, he glanced down the hallway, trying to determine if he was being paranoid or not. The hall seemed darker than normal, Stiles’ heart racing.

Pushing into his room, his backpack fell at the site before him. His eyes found another pair, but it wasn’t that of the cat he practically adopted so long ago. You were sitting on his bed with a book in your lap that once sat on his bookshelf, wearing nothing but a plaid button up and panties - well, more of a thong that allowed him to see the sides of your butt sitting on his blue duvet. Your hair was draped over one shoulder and your face was free from any sort of make up. You looked comfortable in the safety of his room and, for a second, Stiles could have mistaken you for a normal person if he didn’t know any better.

“What the hell?” he asked aloud.

“Stiles!” you screamed happily, placing the book aside. You jumped off the bed, preparing to walk closer to him, finding Stiles backing away into a wall. He grabbed a cross from his table, holding it out in front of him in your direction. You stopped, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Stay back!”

“Stiles,” you sighed. “That has no effect on me. I hope you know that.”

Stiles’ face dropped, looking at the wooden cross. “But, that’s what I read-”

“Myths are meant to be proven false,” you told him, placing yourself back on his bed. “Most of the stuff you will read on witches is false anyway.”

“Well, that makes me feel fantastic,” he murmured sarcastically. He looked around his room, finding empty bags of chips and candy wrappers littered the ground, cans of empty soda on his desk and his bed messed up. “It looks like you raided my kitchen. What the hell?”

“I was hungry,” you grumbled.

Stiles moved to place his bag on the chair near his desk, keeping his distance from your slimy touch. He didn’t want to feel weaker than he already felt in your presence - even if you weren’t gnawing at his soul yet. Just seeing your beautiful face again made his stomach plummet. “What are you doing here?”

“Reading?” you asked, confused.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I can see that. Reading and eating all of my snacks. But why? How? Why the fuck are you back and in my room?”

You giggled, standing up again. Stiles swallowed thickly, failing in keeping his eyes on your face. The top buttons of his flannel were undone, showing off parts of your breasts. His mouth watered at the sight of your collarbone, his lips wanting to kiss at it. The bottom of the shirt rode up with every movement of the arms, showing the black thong you wore. He caught sight of your ass at one point, the thong not hiding your rounded cheeks. Stiles’ fingers itched, leaving him to scold himself.

“Stiles, I never left you.”

“What?” he asked, throat going dry. It made his question raspy and choked.

“I didn’t break in or seek you out today. I’ve been here this entire time.”

Stiles looked confused until the realization set in. “Salem…”

“Exactly. I’ve been living with you since last year. Just… not in this form. I could only take this form again today. It’s Halloween, Stiles. I take my human form on Halloween.”

“Aw hell,” Stiles groaned, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t happening. This cannot be happening!”

“Don’t be such a worry wart. It’s not a good look on you. And trust me, Sti. You are a god looking man.”

Stiles felt his face heat up, massaging his temples. “I’m worried because I’m not very keen on getting my soul sucked out again.”

“Oh,” you hummed, sitting back on the bed. Stiles noted the sly smile on your face that looked humored at his reaction. “You figured it out.”

“You figured it out,” he mocked. “Yeah, I figured it out.”

“Well, don’t worry about it so much. I’m not here to suck out your soul.”

“Then why are you here?” he pressed. “Why me? Shouldn’t you be out there luring some kid out to your house with your wonderful voice, singing them a song until they are dead and gone? Shouldn’t you be finding some hopeless fool to give you what you need in every way possible?”

This time you frown, a crack in Stiles’ heart forming. “Is that what you really think of me? That I’m just some killer?”

“Well, if the shoe fits…”

“Yes, I have killed, Stiles. I have sucked the souls out of so many kids, you wouldn’t be able to keep track of them. Yes, I sing to attract kids to us so we get a meal to keep us strong. But last year, that changed. My power, my health, my well being. It doesn’t come from the need to suck out someone’s soul. I don’t need to feed on unsuspecting children that are lured in by my song. They aren’t what I need to exist and stay strong.”

“Then what do you need?” Stiles pressed.

“You.”

Stiles’ mouth dropped, unable to come up with a response. Instantly, his head shook from left to right, denying what you were saying. “There is no way. You aren’t feeding on my soul-”

“I don’t need to eat your soul,” you deadpanned. “Last year, after we fucked,” Stiles grimaced unnoticeably, “I marked you.”

“You marked me?” he questioned.

“You know exactly what it is,” you laughed. “I’ve seen you check it out before.” Stiles’ hand moved to his shoulder, thinking about the black outline of a cat that was pressed into his skin like a tattoo. “Exactly.”

“Nope.”

“Yup,” you said, standing up. You moved towards him Stiles trying to back away. He yelped in surprise when you tugged at the bottom of his shirt, the man trying to resist when you tried to pull it over his head. The sleeves got caught on his arms and almost choked around his neck before it was torn from his skin, tossed aside. His arms tried to cover his bare torso, almost embarrassed to be in front of your piercing gaze without it, though you had seen more than this already. He was turned around, your fingers tracing the black cat outline. The touch was soothing, the tingling he had wrote off all day diminishing instantly. It was almost like he needed you, the lost feeling buried inside vanishing. Feeling you against him was warming and comforting.

Stiles let out a content sigh before blinking his eyes open, scrambling away from you. His chest heaved and his honey orbs were wide, licking his lips in thought. “What did you do to me? What does this mean?”

“I marked you.”

“I get that!” he hollered. “What does that mean?!”

You sighed at him, glancing away, keeping your eyes on the floor. “When a witch marks someone, they choose them as their significant other. Only by being with that significant other do we retain our power.”

“So, you are feeding off me.”

“Not like you would think,” you told him. “I don’t eat your soul. I thrive off of you person. By being with you… romantically. Being by your side gives me strength. Without you, I would perish.”

Stiles was conflicted. His head told him to push you away, letting you perish. Without him, you were nothing - and that meant one less supernatural threat in the world. But, his heart told him to keep you in his arms forever, that you didn’t deserve to die. And part of that was selfishness; he wanted he feel that exilheration that came from being with you last year over and over again. He enjoyed being with you - and especially enjoyed the sex. But, you had used him, gaining power you had lost from being locked away by the nemeton for so long by sucking out his soul during said sex. How could he forget that?

“I didn’t ask for this,” he claimed.

“I know,” you told him. “And by no means do you have to abide by it. We make the decision when we feel it is time. And I… I liked being with you last year. That’s why I marked you and returned to your side. I stayed by your side until this moment. It is your choice, Stiles. If you agree to it, I will stay and I will give you anything you want. But, if you say you don’t want me here, I will disappear at the end of the night. That mark will vanish and you will go on your merry way. I can’t mark that decision for you.”

“I-” Stiles started, unsure what to say. “I don’t know right now.”

“Alright,” you whispered.

Stiles glanced at you, finding you sitting back down on his bed, picking up the book. He shook off the guilt inside him, a knot gnawing at his insides. He quickly turned away, not wanting to sink deeper into his thoughts than he already was. It was like the Adderall wasn’t helping at all. He couldn’t focus on anything knowing that you were there and that your life was in the palm of his hand. He didn’t know what to do. Hell, he didn’t even know if you were actually telling the truth. His gut churned, something that told him you were truthful. But how could he know for sure.

His hand went back to his shoulder, trying to ease the burn that returned. Without your tender touch to his skin, he was hurting. The yearning for something unknown returned, a piece of him gone with the wind. His eyes prickled with tears, the man rubbing his jaw to fight back the loss inside. Trying to ignore it, he turned to the clock, seeing the time had passed faster than he could have imagined. Ruffling his hair, he walked towards the closet, cursing at himself as you watched.

“Fuck, I’m going to be late,” he murmured, digging around for the bag with the costume he had prepared for the costumed Halloween party Lydia was throwing.

“Late for what?” you asked, perking up.

“Lydia’s Halloween party,” he said quickly without realizing for a second who he was talking to. He stopped on his way to the bathroom, turning to you. “Shit. I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“Why? I love parties!” you hollered, jumping off the bed.

“I bet you do,” Stiles mumbled under his breath. He watched you walk over to his closet, clearing his throat when you bent over and he had a full shot of your backside. You were digging through a pile of clothes, leaving the male confused. “What are you doing?”

“Getting ready. Duh,” you laughed as if it were obvious.

“What?” Stiles asked, shaking his head and flailing his hands. “No, no, no! You can’t come with me! That’s just asking for disaster!”

Holding a dress in your hands, you turned to look at the spasic man that was frantically waving his arms around. “Why not?”

“Well, I…” he started, his mouth snapping shut. He pondered to himself. He wasn’t sure what was happening. His mind was still jumbled from finding you perched on his bed when he got home without warning. Now, you were here. What was he supposed to do? If he left you at his house, there was a chance you would run amuck while he was out having fun and he would have no way to stop you. On the other hand, if he brought you to the party, you were entering a smorgeshboard of souls that you could devour. But, you would be within reach and with Scott there, Stiles assumed you could be stopped if something got out of hand.

One lone witch couldn’t be that bad, right?

“Fine,” Stiles huffed. Your face lit up. “It’s a costume party so… do you even have clothes?”

“Stiles, I’m a witch. I’m always in costume,” you teased. The human rolled his eyes, groaning in exasperation. “Yes, I have clothes. I will be ready.”

“Alright. Good. Just, get ready and we will… we will go party. Just two people, a guy and a girl - a very pretty girl - going to a party. Together. Dressed up.”

“Stiles,” you cut in, stopping his rambling. “I got it.”

“Right,” he muttered. “ I’ll just go change now.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to change together?” you teased, unbuttoning the top button of the flannel your wore. Stiles’ gaze lingered on your heavily exposed chest, his teenage hormones rampaging inside him. You shrugged one of the sleeves off your shoulder, showing off more skin. Your eyes were shadowed as you glanced up at him through your lashes, giving him a sly but adorable smile. “You can even help me undress.”

“I’m going to get dressed now!” Stiles yelled, running into the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind him, shielding your laughter. Stiles groaned, the evidence on the table that you were playing with him, but it didn’t make things any better. A sheen of sweat coated his skin and no matter how much he tugged at his shirt, he couldn’t cool down. He had more problems than just the hot flashes he was having that would require a few extra minutes on his end. “Hey, Y/N. Take you time getting ready. I have a… problem to take care of first.”

A blush appeared on his cheeks when he heard your faint giggle through the door. “Whatever you say, Stiles.”

Stiles huffed, placing his costume aside and discarding his clothes in his hamper. He didn’t need to get the magazines he kept under his sink for emergencies when his thoughts were filled with you, the man sitting on the toilet to pop off a quick one first.

Stiles rushed to get dress when he was done, checking himself in the mirror. The hat was adjusted over his silky hair. The shirt was tight against his frame, Stiles adjusting the badge on the right side. The left read ‘Police’ in white lettering. A set of handcuffs he stole from his dad hung from his belt, a gun holster with a water gun sat on his hip and a fake police baton was against his leg. Stiles grinned, thinking about how good he looked as a man in uniform - well, a police officer in uniform.

“Hey,” he called, cracking the door open before he walked out. “Are you ready?”

“Yup! Just waiting on you!” you called back to him. Stiles took a deep breath before walking out. He stopped short, his eyes growing wide and his jaw dropping to the floor. The black spaghetti strapped dress you wore with the orange lace up the left side hugged you beautifully, curved around your breasts to show them off but keep them concealed. The skirt flared out and draped against your thighs in spikey patterns that made the style work. Your arms were covered in sleeves that ran from the mid bicep to your wrists, leaving your shoulders and hands free. Your hair seemed to curl against your shoulders, a black witch’s hat with orange band around the bottom of the cone shape sat atop your head. On your feet were just some black ankle boots. You spun for him, showing off your outfit. “Well?”

“Holy-” he started, shutting himself down before he uttered something ridiculous and vulgar. “Let’s go.”

“That doesn’t tell me how I look, Stiles,” you pouted. You walked over to him, a hand running down his muscles arm that was built from lacrosse practice. “You look good.”

Stiles swallowed, licking his lips. “You too,” he said quickly. You gave a small smile, your hand dropping from his arm to make for the door. Stiles frowned at the loss of contact from you, his heart and stomach clenching. Slowly, his mouth opening to continue saying, “You look beautiful.”

You stopped at the door, looking back at him over your shoulder. “Thank you,” you told him, voice sultry to his ear. “Now, come on. I want to party.”

Stiles knew this night would be a long one and he was afraid he would make at least one bad decision before the end of it.

The party was roaring when he walked in fashionably late with you at his side. You squealed the second you walked into Derek’s loft, disappearing into the crowd despite Stiles’ extensively long lecture in the car about what you were to do. You broke the first rule in zero-point-five seconds: stay by Stiles’ side. His attempt to stop you was in vain, your smaller frame disappearing into a sea of sweaty teens in costume bouncing to some crappy techno music, alcoholic beverages in hand.

Stiles groaned, headed for the bar. Danny passed him an open beer, Stiles leaning back on it to scan the dance floor. He wanted to relax, but his nerves were wracked, wanting to ensure that nothing was going to happen. He wanted to find Scott and tell him what had happened, warning him that you were here. Stiles wanted to be prepared for whatever was going to happen. His honey orbs flitted over the crowd, memorizing the face of each vibrant student that glowed under the blacklights. Lips glowed with the phlorescent lipsticks, phosphorus paints lining some people’s face, arms and legs. Stiles struggled to find you within the blinding colorful light and strobe effects.

𝅘𝅥𝅮I’ve put a spell on you, and now you’re mine𝅘𝅥𝅮

𝅘𝅥𝅮You can’t stop the things I do, I ain’t lyin’𝅘𝅥𝅮

Stiles’ head whipped around, trying to find the source of the singing. No one else seemed to hear the alluring melody, going about their dancing, kissing, grinding, and whatnot in a carefree atmosphere. Yet, the song called out to him, the beer left on the bartop so Stiles could weave through the crowd to find the music that overtook the techno beat.

𝅘𝅥𝅮I’ve put a spell on you, and now you’re mine𝅘𝅥𝅮

He stopped in the middle of the dance floor, a spotlight directed at your form in his eyes to show off your swiveling hips and twirling body. You danced to the beat, eyes meeting his in a dark, electric match. Your skirt flew around as you danced, your ass shaking and your chest bouncing. A single curl of the finger gestured him forward, a charming smile making him grin.

All inhibitions were lost to your skillful moves. Stiles stepped forward, his hands on your waist. The naturally clumsy man, normally unstable when dancing, moved in time with you, rocking his hips back and forth with yours. Your chests were flat to one another, hearts pounding against your ribs. Your arms circled his neck, hands playing with the hairs on the back of his neck. Your hips ground against his, dancing together as if nothing else mattered around you.

You turned in his arms, your hands reaching around to caress his face. Your backside ground against his pelvis more, the pants he wore suddenly beginning to feel thin and tight. His head dipped down, lips brushing against your neck that made you mewl for him, tilting your head away to give him better access. Your bodies rubbed together in a heated array of limbs, grinding together in a sexy sway. Stiles’ fingers tingled, his shoulder twinging with a fiery heat.

𝅘𝅥𝅮I’ve put a spell on you, and now you’re mine𝅘𝅥𝅮

You were suddenly pushed away, Stiles growling. “What the hell are you doing to me?” he snapped.

“I’m not doing anything,” you told him.

“I don’t believe you,” he claimed. “This is what you did last time. You sung, you lured me in, and you used me. You fed off my soul while I was enchanted by your beauty. That’s what you are doing now. You’re using me for my soul and to get you in here for everyone else.”

“Stiles, I was trying to hurt anyone, my singing would affecting more than just you. It’s supposed to lure people in for me to feed, but is that happening? No!”

“I don’t believe you,” he rasped, taking off the police hat and running a hand through his hair. “Fuck, I don’t get what is going on!”

“I’m not here to hurt anyone. If you heard me singing, it was because I’m yours. I chose you, Stiles. I told you this. Only you are affected by it. I just wanted to dance.”

“No. I don’t believe it. It’s not true.”

You frowned, stepping closer to him. Your hand ran up his body, Stiles catching your wrist before it got very far. You met his eye, staring at him with bright eyes. “How can I show you I mean it? I’m not here to hurt people, Stiles. I came back for you. So, let me show you.”

Stiles licked his lips, feeling weak while holding you. But, it was different than the last time he spent time with you. He didn’t feel weak physically or mentally. He felt weak emotionally. It wasn’t the soul sucking sensation that he didn’t understand until later. It was in his heart. He wanted to see what you were planning. He wasn’t sure why. He felt so sure that you were doing something against his will. He wanted to cast you away and never look back. But, he was aroused and intrigued and he wanted to know what you would show him. He briefly remembered the time you spent together, and that was what kept him from pushing away completely.

“Please, Stiles.”

Your whisper was the final straw for him. All conviction that you were playing him was gone, replaced by a deep arousal and fascination. He leant forward, his lips on yours in a smoldering kiss that made you melt into his hands. The kiss was short lived, your bodies pushing through the crowd to find a vacant place that allowed solitude to do somewhat unspeakable things. With Stiles knowing the layout of the loft, he was able to lead you to the closest unoccupied bathroom, shutting the door and locking it while you flicked on the lights.

His back was pressed into the door, your lips attacking his once more. You let him take control of the kiss despite keeping him secured to the door itself. His lips wrapped around yours, starting in slow but heated embraced that dragged down, disconnecting with a resonating smack. When they connected again, your lips were parted, Stiles’ tongue swirling around yours messily. The tip traced the outline of your cheeks, earning a moan that vibrated both of your bodies. Open-mouth kisses were steamy, hands roaming bodies happily. Noses bumped and teeth clashed with the hasty kisses. Stiles’ head tilting to get better access to the kiss.

He was pushed away from the door, your hands directing him to the toilet. His lips stayed n yours in a hungry kiss, your tongues battling playfully between your parted lips. Before pushing him back, your hands fiddled with his bottoms, popping the button with ease and dragging the zipper down tauntingly slow. The loose police slacks he wore dropped in a loud clink with the handcuffs, his boxer briefs falling shortly after. Stiles broke away at the sudden chill, his lower half exposed. His cock was erect, the tip blistering red with a glistening of precum seeping out of the slit. It twitched for attention, wanting to feel something around it, touching it - caressing it - loving it.

You pushed him back onto the toilet, leaning over him to leave a lingering kiss to his lips. His lips, swollen and red, remain puckered when you backed away, pushing his thighs apart to crouch between them. His gaze was hazy when he opened them to look at you, watching you remove your hat before starting. A small, dainty hand wrapped around the entirety of his length, stroking him slowly at first. Stiles’ noises were a bit disgruntled, the pleasure beginning to slowly build up, pumping through his veins one ounce at a time. His heart was speeding up and his stomach was tightening, though that was partially from anticipation for what was to come.

“Come on, baby,” he rasped, biting his lip. You looked up at him innocently, Stiles growling in his throat. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

You laughed, moving closer to him. One hand ran up his thigh casually, feeling the man shiver to your touch. He watched your tongue poke out, grazing the swollen tip like a lollipop, lapping at it happily. He was trying to remain patient, longing for you to do more than kitten lick the slit to taste his precum. His stomach churned and his sight was red with lust. The lure from before was nothing but a memory - a figment that was long forgotten. He wasn’t worried in that second that you may or may not be gaining more power from him, sucking out his soul. He just wanted more.

Your lips wrapped around the head, hollowed cheeks sucking powerfully at the tip. Stiles moaned loudly, not regretting the sound he made. He watched you suck, feeling your tongue smooth over the bumpy underside that was more sensitive than the rest of the tip. You circled the tip, mewls vibrating around him before your began bobbing along his length. Your hand stroked what wouldn’t fit in the mouth, your head and hand moving in time together. Your tongue slid up and down his shaft, finding the pulsating vein that was filled with ecstasy. Your mouth watered when it pulsed against your taste buds.

Bobbing faster and deeper, your hand wasn’t needed. Deep throating Stiles was natural to you, the tip hitting the back of your throat. His hips bucked upwards instinctually, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth and down your throat. One hand continued to grip at his thigh, scraping against his skin, while the other slid under him to fondle his balls. Your mouth made a slurping sound when you bobbed around him, your wet lips pressing to the moist length between them. Stiles’ hand threaded through your hair at some point, the curls now curling between his fingers as he tugged at it, helping to guide your mouth around him.

Stiles’ loud groan filled the bathroom, his head falling back with his eyes closed. His cock twitched between your cheeks, strings of his hot, white seed shooting down your throat in strong bursts. You mewled, swallowing every last drop that he released. The hold on your hair tightened, Stiles grunting your name on repeat, spilling the last of what he had built up onto your tongue. Not a single drop escaped, your tongue passing over your lips to catch any drop that may have slipped out just in case.

Stiles pulled you to your feet swiftly, turning you to face the mirror, your body slumped against the sink. You could see his dark eyes staring at you through the mirror, the hat on his head darkening the stare slightly with a shadow covering them. He disappeared from your sight, your skirt lifted and your thong dragged down your legs. Your legs were nudged apart, his still erect shaft sliding through your soaked core.

Stiles leaned forward, his lips pressed to the shell of your ear. “You like it hard, right?”

You felt the air leave you lungs. “Y-yeah.”

“Good. Now, make some noise for me while I fuck you.”

“Yes, please,” you squeaked weakly.

Stiles shifted backwards, the tip finding your entrance without aid. When he pushed back forward, he was sliding deep into you cock hilt deep with a prolonged moan from you. You slumped further onto the sink, pushing your ass out against him. His hips circled against it for a few moments before pulling back to start his movements. The tip nearly came from before he slammed back tino you, earning a loud moan - almost scream.

His hips collided with your backside in a quick, steady rhythm, your butt jiggling every time. Your hands held the sides of the sink to keep upright, your head spinning from the pleasure. He wasn’t slow. His cock pistoned in and out of you, the clapping sound floating through the sexy, steamy air. The tip was magnetized to your sweet spot, every slide in allowing him to hit it with optimal amount of pressure. He kept hitting it, making you moan happily.

“Moan for me,” he rasped, smacking your ass to make you moan. Your head fell forward, nowhere to hide the noises you made. Stiles seemed to approve because he sped up, pounding you harder so your body slid against the front of the sink, the sweaty sound of skin on skin getting even louder, echoing off the walls. You were tugged back to meet his thrusts, moan after moan falling from your mouth. “Yes, just like that.”

You weren’t going to last longer. Stiles made you see the stars. Fireworks popped every time he hit your g-spot, your body shaking. If the sink weren’t in front of you, you would have fallen to the ground with weak knees and an aching pussy that was ready to be claimed again. The symphony of sounds around the bathroom was music to your ears, but nothing was more distinct and pleasant to hear than Stiles’ uneven breathy moans. The thrusts were growing sloppy, indicating his nearing the end, and you were ready to feel him filling you up witht he same warm liquid you swallowed.

He was losing control when the doorknob jiggled. Stiles growled angrily, the hands he had on your waist tightening. “Occupied!” he called in a harsh tone. The fierceness of his voice broke you, a loud moan escaping your mouth. Your walls closed around him, hugging him more than the angle allowed before. Your juices spilled out around him, coating his shaft in layers of arousal. The tightness of your core made him choke on air, his eyes closing in bliss. His seed, less powerful than before, was shot into you, mixing with your juices. Your walls milked him dry, the man slumping against your back to finish his orgasm, short thrusts used for both of you to ride out your highs.

You giggled after a minute, making Stiles look at you. “Occupied,” you joked, making Stiles roll his eyes.

The man quickly moved away from your, leaving your panties on the sink next to you. You watched him in the mirror redressing himself, cursing himself under his breath. You frowned at what you saw, knowing he was regretting what had happened. You were afraid to ask.

“Stiles?”

“Sorry,” he murmured. He was conflicted. He enjoyed it - he really did. But, you were still a witch. How could be believe after the history you had together that this was something more than a soul sucking fiesta for you - that every touch you shared was powering you up for the night?His head and heart battled with neither side winning. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

“Why?” you whispered.

“I…”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t have a logical answer. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know how he felt. He didn’t know what to believe. He didn’t know anything.

So he left.

The man grabbed a new beer, hoping the alcohol would dull his activate senses. Thoughts were running a million miles an hour in his head. Nothing seemed to make sense and he didn’t want to think about any of that right now. As much as he wanted to figure out what was happening, he didn’t want to figure it out. He wanted to relax. He didn’t want to worry about you and what you may or may not be doing. He didn’t want to think about how he felt. He didn’t want to remember the times he spent with you in such intimate ways. He didn’t want to think about you at all because right now, all he could see when his eyes closed was your bright and shining face. It made him feel sick - sick with want.

“Stiles!” he heard behind him. Stiles turned to the teen wolf himself who was shoving through the crowd towards him, dressed in a doctor outfit. “There you are!”

“Hey,” Stiles sighed.

“What’s wrong?”

Stiles glanced at his friend before sipping the drink, hoping it would hit him fast. “You remember that witch?” Scott nodded. “Well, she’s here.”

“She is?”

“Yup,” Stiles huffed. “She was in my room when I got home. She has been with me this entire time. She was Salem.”

“The black at you had?”

“Yeah,” Stiles replied. “She said that she’s not here to eat souls. She’s not here to do what she did last year. She apparently chose me to be with and she can only survive by being by my side. But I don’t know if she’s just fucking with me or not. I can’t think straight around her.” Stiles took off the police hat, placing it on the bar while he ruffled his hair. “There is something about her that makes my mind go blank. I’m just so drawn to her. Earlier, I swear she was singing, just like she did last year when I walked into the woods and met her. But, the singing only affected me. I was so enticed the second I saw her and I just… what the hell do I do? What is right?”

“She’s here right now?”

“Yeah,” Stiles choked. “She was in the bathroom last time I saw…”

“Doing what?” Scott asked. Stiles flushed, Scott narrowing his eyes on the human. “Really? She could be potentially using you again and you sleep with her?”

“I couldn’t stop myself!” Stiles protested. “I told you. I cannot think straight when I’m around her. One minute we are dancing, the next I push her away because I think she’s playing me, then I find myself kissing her. I couldn’t stop it. It just kind of happened and now I’m freaking out because I’m confused. I’ve never felt like this around a girl. Being with her literally feels right. I feel so complete and my heart feels full and my body is warm. Then I walked away and… I feel like I’m missing something. I don’t feel good. I feel sick and cold like my heart had stopped. It’s like a piece of me is gone. My shoulder burns where this stupid mark is. And this time, I don’t feel the way I did last time. When we were together before, it felt like part of me was dying. I felt weak physically because I was drained. But, I didn’t have that same sensation. I don’t think she was feeding off my soul. I don’t know anymore. I don’t know what to do and I don’t know what to think, Scott.”

“Stilinski has a crush,” Danny spoke up. The two boys turned to the shirtless man behind the bar. “What? It’s true.”

“No. I don’t have a crush,” Stiles denied.

“Well, then you wouldn’t be upset if I tell you that Colby is hitting on your girl?”

“What?!” Stiles snapped.

“Yeah. That girl over there is the one you came with, right?” Danny pointed towards the crowd, Stiles whipping around to see the cocky lacrosse player leaning smoothly against the wall in front of you, trying to lay on the charm Stiles knew he had. You held a smile as you talked to him, Stiles’ heart frozen and dropping into his stomach. He didn’t know what you were discussing, but he knew he didn’t like it. A fuse was lit, Stiles growling lowly.

“Fucking Colby.”

“Stiles, calm down.”

“I told you he liked her,” Danny mumbled.

Scott shook his head, grabbing his friend’s arm. “Relax, Stiles.”

“I’m going to beat his face in,” Stiles huffed. “Who gave him the right to talk to her?”

“Are you saying this because you don’t want her talking to him because she is a witch? Or because you don’t want him talking to her?”

Stiles didn’t answer, breaking away from his friend to make his way towards you. Scott threw his hands up, keeping an eye on his friend just in case things got hairy. Knowing that you were there, Scott was being apprehensive, prepared to jump in at any time. Something told him that Stiles was right and you weren’t there to hurt anyone. If you were, you would have done something by now, the people around being lured to your side so you could drain their souls. But, you only focused on Stiles, your eyes drifting to the spazz from afar. But, Scott remained on his toes, seeing as the main brain of the pack was flustered beyond belief from his frazzled emotions. Mostly, he wanted to make sure that Stiles didn’t get hurt - emotionally and physically.

Stiles stormed up to the much taller lacrosse player, hearing the things he said to you. “If you want to, we could dance a bit. Maybe get to know each other. A beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be alone on Halloween.” Colby reached forward to swipe a hand through bits of your hair, Stiles glaring at the man. “Maybe when we are done, we can get out of here and go somewhere a bit quieter, just the two of us.”

“I appreciate the offer,” you told him. Stiles felt his heart sink, his body feeling heavy. He knew you weren’t there for him. You were using him to get access to your next meal so you could survive another year. And it broke his heart a bit without him knowing. “But, I’m not interested.”

“Excuse me?” Colby asked. Stiles smiled slightly at the angered man. “No one turns this down, sweetheart.”

“I’m not interested. I’m sorry,” you huffed. “I already have a guy I like and you’re not him. I’m not here for you or anyone else. I just wanted to have some fun. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to relax.”

“Then I can help with that.”

“No, I’m fine. I’m not interested.”

Stiles’ heart lifted when he heard your words. He didn’t know why, but your words warmed him. It made his heart flutter, his stomach rampaging against him. He stopped in his tracks taking a second to gaze at you. Your eyes showed your disinterest in the lacrosse player’s failed flirting. He could feel your annoyance. And the entire time Stiles stared at you, he felt the familiar warmth inside of him bubbling like a potion. You were truly beautiful in his honey eyes, every aspect of your mind, body and soul appealing to him. He yearned to pull you into his arms, holding you close so Colby couldn’t lay a finger on you. Stiles wanted to be the only one you looked at, the only one you felt and he wanted you to be the only girl he held.

His tongue passed over his lips, the realization setting in. I like her. A lot. Even if you had lied to him, he felt something deep inside. You had a real connection with one another. He hadn’t stopped thinking about you for the last year and you had been by his side the entire time. Now, you were back, and he wanted to embrace that. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to repeat your actions from the prior year. He wanted to be with you. Your denial with Colby showed that you weren’t there to destroy the town, to kill someone by sucking out their soul with your alluring voice.

He had been wrong to judge you. He believed you. And he wanted you.

“Come on, sweetheart. Don’t be like that,” Colby pressed, reaching forward towards you. That’s when Stiles stepped in.

“She said no, Colby. So back off.”

“Stiles,” you mumbled, surprised to see him after he left you alone. Your hand met his strong met, your heart jumping. The skin on skin contact tingled. Stiles glanced down at you, his eyes showing how he felt. He nodded at you discretely, making you smile. Sinking into his side, Stiles wrapping his arm around you slightly. The butterflies roared, making your body feel more powerful than before.

“Fuck off, Stilinski. We were having a conversation,” Colby sneered.

“It was a pretty one sided conversation,” Stiles told him sarcastically. “She told you to lay off. She isn’t interested.”

Colby looked back and forth between you both, scoffing. “Stilinski? Really, sweetheart? You can choose someone way better.”

“I’m sure he has a bigger dick than you,” you snapped. “At least, a dick that could please me. Because he has. More than once. And I want it many, many more times. He gives me life.” Stiles knew you meant it literally.

“I doubt that,” Colby huffed.

“Look, I told you I wasn’t interest. And that’s the truth. I came here with Stiles. I plan to leave here with Stiles. I don’t care about anyone else here.”

“Well, you can just leave with me and I will show you a real good time-”

“She said no!” Stiles growled, shoving Colby back. “Just lay off my girl, man!”

“You don’t deserve a beauty like her,” Colby growled. “You’re a nobody!”

“I’m better for her than you are,” Stiles argued. “You’re just a dumb jock with a small dick that thinks he can charm his way into any girls pants. But guess what. She’s too good for you. You’re a nobody. Where as me, I can actually show her a good time. She’s mine, Colby. Get over it.”

Colby pushed Stiles, who pushed him back. “You want to fight, Stilinski? Let’s fight then!”

You slipped between the two males in a flash, a hand pressed to Colby’s chest. “Stop it,” you huffed. A powerful force was released from your hand, pushing Colby back into a table of food, salsa, punch and chips covering his fake leather jacket and greasy greaser hair. Stiles gaped at the simple magic you used, feeling you take his hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“Yes please,” Stiles mumbled.

He allowed you to drag him out of the loft, Scott sending him a look that told him to be careful. Stiles nodded at him, following you out to the jeep. Roscoe rumbled to life, pulling out of the parking lot and racing down the road.

“Stiles…” you started, unsure what else to say.

“Did you mean it?” he asked, turning to you as he drove. “That you weren’t interested in him? That you only liked one guy? That you weren’t there for others?”

“Of course,” you told him. “If I wanted to hurt anyone, I would have done it, Stiles. You wouldn’t be able to stop me if I actually wanted to do something. My singing is powerful. My magic is powerful. I can put you under my spell in a snap and you wouldn’t even know it.”

“Like last time,” Stiles huffed. “I was so taken by you, I didn’t even know what was happening.”

“Exactly. I lure people in, Stiles. That’s how I deceived them so I could keep my power. But, not anymore. I chose to be here to be with you. When you turned up last year unexpectedly, I didn’t expect to enjoy myself as much as I did. Yes, I drained your soul somewhat. I won’t deny that. But what we did… it meant something to me. It was so much better than anything I’ve had and I don’t want to give that up. I want you. You’re special and I only want that. The only spell I cast was by giving you that mark so that I am yours and you are mine.”

Stiles drummed his fingers on the wheel before he spoke up. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

“I don’t blame you,” you laughed. “I didn’t give you much reason to believe me. I drew you in, I toyed with your mind, I fucked you, I fed off your soul, and then I left to feed on children. I lied to you. Yeah, I wouldn’t believe me either. But, if I was just going to come back and feed on children, would I have come back to you?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles shrugged, looking over at you. “Maybe I just had a very tasty soul and you couldn’t get enough of me.”

You laughed, nodding at him. “You actually had a very tasty soul. It’s sweet and tangy.”

“Really?” Stiles asked.

“Oh yeah,” you hummed. “Rather delectable if I must say. But, that jealous side of you earlier? I have to say, Stiles. That was incredibly sexy.”

“Was it now?”

“Oh yeah,” you mused. “Seeing you stand up to that asshole, defending me. Being a little dominant to defend your girl. Definitely a turn on.”

Stiles choked on air, shifting in his seat. “You don’t say.”

“You know,” you began, lifting the end of your dress. Your fingers passed over your covered core, already wet. “That little rendezvous we had in the bathroom wasn’t enough for me. I could use a little bit of jealous Stiles in my life.”

Stiles took a deep breath, his knuckles going white as they squeezed at the wheel. “Fuck, what do you do to me? How do you just manage to make me feel like this?” he asked. “I just feel so complete and eager and God, I am ready.”

You laughed, leaning over the police scanner to kiss his cheek, Stiles sighing happily at the tender kiss. “It’s because you love me. And I’m all yours.”

“My own personal witch?” he asked.

“You could say that,” you teased.

“God, I love you,” he rasped. You smiled. Pulling him into a kiss the second he parked the jeep in his driveway. He barely had time to kill the engine before he was turned in his seat to meet your lips in a feverish kiss. Your tongues tangled between your cheeks, your hands threading through his hair over and over until it was a mess of locks. His hands were attempting to pull you over the console, wanting to roam your body.

The kiss broke with a noisy smack, the windows of the jeep beginning to fog over from the heated aura you were producing. “House. Now. I’m tired of denying that I want this. I’m tired of waiting. Fuck, I want you. I want this. I believe you, Y/N. I want this so bad.”

“Then stop talking and take me, Stiles. I’m all yours.”

Dragging you up the stairs in the house was a no brainer. Stiles was glad his dad still wasn’t home since he was stripping himself of the police costume on the way down the hall, your boots coming off and your hat floating to the wood flooring, forgotten in your future misdeeds. Stiles shut the door quickly when you entered his room, the man pulling you into his chest to place a sensual kiss to your lips. Your arms wrapped around his waist, sinking into the kiss he gave you. You let him control it, his lips dragging along yours before breaking away, delving into another kiss instantly.

The kisses got more heated, Stiles head tilting to either side so he could mash his lips to yours perfectly. The sparks were flying every time they connected, the residual sound of their connection growing louder and more frequent. The smack of lips was prominent, echoing through the crisp air of the bedroom. Tongues battled playfully with Stiles winning every time, trails of saliva stringing you together when you pulled away for bursts of fresh air.

The dress melted from your form, pulled over your head and discarded carelessly. Honey eyes narrowed with dilated pupils, taking in the nearly nude body before him. You stood in just a pair of wet panties that he wanted to rip off you, literally. With each step he took forward, you stepped back until your legs connected to the bed. Stiles pushed you into a sitting position, taking your wrists in his hands.

“Keep them here,” he told you, slowly pulling off the arm sleeves you were wearing. Your hands were left extended before you, wrists touching slightly. You watched Stiles remove the handcuffs that dangled from his belt, the key placed on his bedside table. The metal clanged as he wrapped them around your wrists, letting them fall into your lap clasped together. He took the arm sleeves you wore before, tying them together before wrapping it around your head, your vision going pure black. You let him do what he wanted, enjoying the touch the man gave you. You were enthralled by it, relishing in the bliss it gave you already.

Stiles leaned into your ear, the hot breath making you shiver. “Lay down,” he demanded with a husky voice. You moaned, doing ask he asked. Your bare back was laid to the mattress, your bound hands resting to your stomach. Your legs, dangling over the side of the end, were pushed apart, the thong you had on snapped from your waist. The thing strap on the right side was torn, the silky material removed from your lower half immediately.

Two fingers ran through your folds, Stiles’ ears perking up at your loud moans. The tips probed the entrance, dipping in slightly before pulling back out. “What do you want, Y/N?” he asked.

“You,” you told him through a whining mewl. “I need you, Stiles. Please.”

“You still like it hard and fast?” he questioned.

“Yes,” you moaned. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“I remember that night together so clearly. I’ve dreamt of it because it was that good. That amazing. I always asked myself what I would do if I saw you again because I was mad you left after that. I thought I would hate you but man, I lied to myself. I want to feel you, all of you, only you.”

“Please, Stiles,” you cried. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Stiles grinned, slipping the two fingers into you. He watched you back arch when they spread your apart, opening your entrance to the air around you, scissoring your pussy quickly. The tips curled to scratch at your sensitive walls, the fingers squishing in your wetness with his quick thrusts. He watched the way your breasts jiggled with the thrusts of his fingers, your chest heaving for air. His free hand darted out to grab one, fondling the mound and the hard, boisterous nipple between his fingers. The combined effort made you moan louder than before, urging him to do more.

He pulled out, despite your noisy pleas. The hand sayed on your breast, the fingers that once pushed into you are a rapid pace, finger fucking you into heaven, were placed to your lips. Stiles grunted when your lips parted, taking the two digits between them. Your tongue swirled around them, sliding along his skin to taste yourself. Your lips puckered around him, swollen and red from the relentless kissing you had done upon arrival to his room. They parted when he pulled his fingers free, the pads smoothing over your extended tongue until they flicked off the end of it.

You could hear the rustle of his clothes when he backed away, the loss of body heat leaving you cold and lonely. You wished you could watch him undress, only your imagination left to wonder what he was doing. You could picture the way he unbutton the shirt the rest of the way since he had gotten half of them off on the trek down the hall. You thought about how he would shrug the fabric off his broad shoulders and down his bulging arms that were muscled from lacrosse. You saw his lanky fingers undoing the button on his pants, pushing them and his Calvin Klein’s down his legs until his cock was springing free slapping his stomach so a single string of precum connected the tip to his wonderful happy trail of hair that led to his giant package. You wanted to see him in all his naked glory before you would drop to the ground, sucking his cock happily.

His cock slid between your folds, your back arching off the bed once more. Your hands clawed at your stomach, unable to claw at anything else around you. You whimpered for him, waiting for him to fll you like you wished. He slid in once, bottoming out before he pulled out completely. You felt a void, getting filled for a half second before it was ruined. He did it repeatedly, taunting you with the action. You were being teased, toyed with before you got the main course.

“Please, Stiles,” you pleaded. “Don’t tease me.”

“But I love hearing you whimper for me,” he murmured deeply. You whined, a mewl laced throughout it. “Don’t you like my cock filling you up repeatedly.”

“Yes, but I want it to stay inside me. Please,” you cried. “I love this dominating spirit, but please. I need you to fuck me. Please, Stiles. I need you so bad. Don’t tease me. Just pound me hard and fast until I’m cumming all over your cock.”

“Is that what you really want?” he asked, shoving in before he vanished again. You nodded quickly, hair flying around in the process. “Alright. I want to hear you scream.”

The next thrust into you, he stayed. His cock pistoned in and out of you quickly, pounding you into the mattress while he stayed with his feet planted to the carpet. Your hips clapped together with a resonating frequency, smack after smack of skin filling the room with your moaning screams. His fingers dug into the sides of your thighs, your legs wrapped around his waist to push him into you deeper. The tip hit your sweet spot every time he pushed into you, making your head fly back in ecstasy. The lack of vision amplified the pleasure, your body shaking in happiness.

“Yes! Just like that! Oh my god!” you screamed, your arms extending above your head while your back arched more. Stiles groaned, watching your body jostle with his powerful thrusts, breasts bouncing with his movements.

“I forgot how much I missed this,” he groaned, snapping his hips into yours. He was pushed as far in as he could go, his balls hitting your folds as he did. Your walls convulsed around him, making it harder to move but adding the the pleasure he felt. He pushed through it, his cock twitching and pulsating through your walls into the blood in your veins. “The bathroom earlier wasn’t enough at all. God, I could do this every second of every day and never get tired of it.”

“Oh, Stiles. Please. More!” you moaned.

You were pulled closer into him so he could piston as fast as possible, his eyes closing to chase his high. He was weak, the arousal in his system too much for him. Watching you squirm from what he was doing, hearing you moan and scream his name, and feeling his cock entering and exiting your snug, wet pussy was making his stomach knot. The feeling she felt for you, his denial replaced with acceptance, ignited the fire, knowing that you were there to be with him. He didn’t have the same weakness as the prior year. He felt full and complete and he was going to revel in that feeling as long as he could.

His will didn’t last long. You were quivering against his sheets, letting out an elongated moan of his name. Your walls hugged his shaft, juices splattering around it in bursts of pleasure. Your fluids coated his length, your toes curling into his backside and your head flying back. The warmth and moisture of your core became too much for the man, his thrusts slowing to a gentle push when the climax came. His seed shot off inside of you, mixing with your juices in strings of scalding hot white drops. The coil he had was gone, exploding into fireworks from a sea of flames your bodies produced. His pushes slowed, your tight walls milking the last drops fro the tip of his length, greedily taking every last drop he ejaculated.

Stiles fumbled to remove the handcuffs and makeshift blindfold, moving you properly into his bed. His body collapsed next to you, your head resting on his chest. The blankets covered your forms, your legs tangled together under the sheets. Your hand rested to his heart, feeling the quick beats slowing to a normal pace under the tips. Your moved to trace the cat mark on his shoulder once, feeling his shiver to your touch.

“Sleep, Stiles,” you told him, seeing the man beginning to doze when you looked at him.

“The last time you told me to sleep, I fell asleep and you were gone when I woke up,” he drowsily spoke up. “I don’t want you to turn back into a cat. I want you to stay here. With me.”

“Don’t worry,” you mused, running a hand through his hair that was wet with perspiration. “I will always be by your side.”

Stiles wanted to retort, but he was drifting - fast. His eyes went hazy, going dark before he knew it. The last thing he saw before he fell into a restful sleep was your beautiful eyes staring back at him with a tale of love, his body full and warm instead of cold and weak like last time. His soul was bright, feeling alive with you in his arms.

He just wasn’t ready to see his cat again.

The sun was what woke Stiles up, peeking through hs blinds directly into his eyes. He groaned, draping his arm over his orbs to shield them from the bright rays. He shifted, stretching his stiff limbs. He was fully rested after the eventful Halloween night of topsy turvy events. He recalled everything that happened, wondering if it was all a dream. Had you really been there? Or, was it all a spell he placed on himself wishing for something to happen?

He knew it wasn’t a dream at all.

He remembered the frantic thoughts of what was true. He remembered the lure to the dance floor. He remembered the bathroom. He remembered the jealousy. And he remembered the bedroom.

Blinking his eyes open, he expected to see the black cat by his side. But the pressure against the side of his body wasn’t that of a cat. His head turned, jaw dropping to find you sleeping beside him. The blanket had fallen off your chest, exposing your breasts to him - perky nipples and all. He slapped himself a few times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, but you never faded.

Stiles smiled, not caring about morning breath or that you were sleeping. His body turned and his lips pressed to yours in a fiery kiss that woke you up. Your moaned into him, one arm wrapping around his neck. Your eyes fluttered open when he pulled away, licking his lips.

“You’re here,” he whispered.

“I’m here,” you replied.

He leaned in to kiss you again, unknowingly falling for the spell called love. Still, he knew that he was all yours. He had been since he heard your voice.

And you were his. And you always would be.

𝅘𝅥𝅮I’ve put a spell on you, and now you’re mine𝅘𝅥𝅮

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crystalrequiem · 5 years

Text

The Voice that Urged Orpheus

[Part 4/8(?)] [TRC] Summary: Fai gets lost in thought and Kurogane asks him to share. Mistake. He has no idea what to do with all these feelings. Tags: Kuro/Fai, Canon Universe, Post-Canon, Warnings: suggestive thoughts (nothing graphic), depression, dealing with trauma, so much fluff, Is it still slow-burn if they’re already in a relationship? because that’s basically what this is.

[Part 1] ... [Part 3]... [Part 5]

Hello again! Warning this chapter for Fai’s head messing with him, I guess. To think, I thought I’d somehow get through this world in just two chapters.... >_> i figure if we’re lucky we’ve got 1-2 more in Chizeta. I LIVE for your comments and tags, ya’ll. Thanks so much for all the love!

Caldina had advised they might find lodging with the Academy if Fai didn’t mind hosting a few lectures. He couldn’t tell how Fai felt about the suggestion, but with currency uncertain and little else to go on, it certainly sounded like a good deal. Of course, Kurogane figured they might have trouble given no one in their group could read anything in the local language, and he had no idea what bargaining for living space might entail…. He needn’t have bothered.

The Academy nearly bends over backwards to host their group. The instant someone spots them meandering into the library, they start begging Fai to demonstrate his enchantment on the cloak and everything snowballs from there. Before he knows what’s what, Fai has some sort of visiting scholar position and they’ve been put up in academic housing. The administration kindly arranges for them to take two bedrooms and a central living area—a complete if compact apartment. Honestly, much, much nicer than Kurogane could have hoped when they landed in the desert this morning.

Thick earthen walls cut the heat and will likely insulate against the chill of night. Intricately detailed window screens invite a lattice of rosy light into the room while the sun finishes setting. Soft, pillowy seating spaces and ceilings peppered with tiny glowing baubles he assumes must be magic. No food or place for groceries, but the school keeps a communal eating area and they’ve already discovered that no one has any compunctions about sharing.

Their rag-tag traveling family trails in to their borrowed room, tired by a long day spent touring the grounds and staring at all manner of spell work. Kurogane locks the sturdy, elaborately carved door behind himself as he steps through, feeling surreal and off-balance.

“—and did you see what they were doing with the gravity manipulation? I didn’t completely understand how it works, but it looked like they were making something like the flying carts from piffle!” He has no idea what to do with all this magic, or why he should care, but Syaoran takes to the academy like a duck to water. For as many differences between them, the kid and his double both share the same love of learning… He chatters to everyone who will listen at a mile a minute. They’ve barely scratched the surface of the library and labs today, but ideas seem to fill his every thought.

Something twists painfully in in Kurogane’s chest to watch him so excited—this sort of place is where someone like Syaoran belongs, if he wants. Not an endless, thankless journey through dimensions. The fact that they can come here probably means a lot to the kid, but he wishes they could do more. He wishes the first Syaoran could have made it here to see it. He just—

Needs to stop thinking about it like this. They’re doing what they can. Maybe if they make enough memories here, Mokona can find a way to return someday.

Eventually, Syaoran has to pause his latest stream of thought to yawn, and Fai steps in and suggests they all get some early rest.

“We have even more to do tomorrow, and you have plenty of lectures to look forward to.” The Kid and pork-bun bend to the logic of Fai’s argument with no complaints, already bleary-eyed as they wander away to investigate their own room with a quiet chorus of “good night.” Kurogane watches after them and distantly wonders whether he should have checked the place for traps before letting anyone get comfortable. He’s going too soft.

“Sheesh.” Fai flops bonelessly onto what he can only assume is some sort of lounge, his cloak fluttering as he drops.

“You’re not overdoing it, showing off all those spells, are you?” He tries to cast his worry in the form of a jab, but has a feeling Fai sees right through him when the mage just laughs. Blond hair twines over pale skin as Fai pushes a few whisping strands away from his only slightly burnt face and starts undoing the ribbon there.

“Not hardly. But the heat is a cruel and the days are long.” Something old and sad echoes in the way he looks away, the distant gaze and the slow fall of his arm, ribbon held tight. It’s lingered like a cloud around him since they arrived, ebbing and flowing amidst the excitement of the Academy.

Kurogane pulls his own, still-cool cloak off and tosses it right over his idiot’s head. “Hey!”

“I can hear you thinking too hard from here,” he grouches, sidling across the room to fit himself into the space at the end of the lounge. Fai struggles feebly to free himself from the fabric for all of a second or two before giving up. He stills and curls inward, adopting the cloak as another masking layer.

“Can’t hide anything from you, can I?” Muffled by fabric, his voice sounds more fragile than it should. …Maybe he’s pushing where he shouldn’t.

“Of course not. Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one? You’d think you’d learn better by now.” He tries to lead them back into the game and safer waters, but his lover doesn’t seem interested in following. Kurogane waits a beat for another silly quip, but Fai only grants him a muffled hum of agreement.

His brow furrows, worry multiplying. The longer the silence stretches, the less certain he feels. He tries to be patient, but the light streaming in from the screen begins shifting from sunset red to pale moon white all too quickly. The sounds of the world outside take on a hushed tone. Eventually he can’t take the quiet any more. Kurogane tuts with frustration. Reaching out for the lump of Fai buried in fabric, he pulls his cloak back and tosses it on the floor. The move leaves Fai’s hair a mess of static and fine strands.

“…I was using that,” the mage mumbles, gaze pinned to the ground. Kurogane doesn’t understand how one person can be so frustrating and so easy to love at the same damn time. He leans a little closer—lets his hand rest on Fai’s shoulder blade, tentative.

“Mage…”

“Oh, Alright Kuro-nosy!” The magician laughs even as he extols his annoyance. Beneath Kurogane’s fingers, tension slowly bleeds away until he leans into the touch. “But I warn you, it’s stupid. It hardly even matters. Just—nostalgia? Or—that’s the wrong word.”

It always matters, if it’s you, Kurogane thinks, but can’t bring himself to say. His inner monologue manages to distill that sappy mess down to a simpler, “If it bothers you, it matters,” and the phrase leaves him easily before he can dwell too long. Fai smiles—that old, bittersweet grin. Another fracture ripples through the surface of his heart at the sight.

“It’s so strange, being here, you know? I’ve studied magic before obviously, but—I’ve never seen anywhere like this.

“Free food and community and using magic to help each other—it’s… I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop—for something horrible about this world to come to light just to make it make sense.” Well, he can relate to that. He doesn’t see how it has anything to do with nostalgia though—

“Things have been too easy here,” he agrees. He takes a second look at the delicate window screens, noting how easily they might be kicked in. Do the kids have one in their room? Should they all bunk in the living area to stay in one place? He figured he was just paranoid, but if Fai feels it too— “Should we set up a watch, do you think?”

The mage blinks at him from his side in open confusion before his words fully register. Fai laughs, quiet and fond and at what, Kurogane has no idea but he welcomes the sound.

“Sorry! That’s not what I meant. I’m not explaining it right. This world seems fine, honestly. That’s part of what bothers me.”

“I don’t think I get it.” He frowns, trying to tune his alert instincts back down. Fussing with Fai’s mussed hair helps. He combs through it with his fingers and Fai seems content enough to let him, leaning towards his hand with every pass. Their positions shift until they sit pressed close at the thigh, side by side. Fai’s eyes slip closed and Kurogane watches the tiny shifts in his expression as he decides to try explaining again.

“There was a royal college of magic in Valeria. I can’t remember the specifics or how it worked but I do remember… we used to pretend we would go there and learn one day when we grew up.”

Oh. Nostalgia, he’d said, and Kurogane hadn’t managed to piece it together. He sees it now—the barest corner of what pains Fai, and protective worry stirs in him like a beast pacing at the bars. “Obviously, it never would have happened, but it gave us something to hope for—made us excited about something. We stole books from the library and taught each other whatever we could… Stupid, in the end. It only made things worse for us when the sovereign found out.”

“Fai…”

“Then in Celes, there was a Wizard’s guild, but I learned mostly from Ashura-ou and his library. And that was… good. I thought. But it wasn’t really, was it? I was just fooling myself. What happened… happened. Any memories I made were poisoned by the idea that he only ever meant to use me as a method of suicide, and I just keep thinking—I don’t know.

“This place is too perfect—it’s too… kind.”

Kurogane’s combing stills as he listens. He cradles the back of Fai’s neck instead, palm of his hand pressed to nape, as he tries to put his thoughts back to rights. He’s never been described as overly-empathetic, but the shadow of Fai’s hurt echoes in him all the same, sitting like a stone at the pit of his stomach. He wants more than anything to help ease its burden. He wishes he had some idea of how.

“Sorry. I told you it was stupid.”

“It isn’t,” he insists, but Fai’s self-derision is a stubborn foe. He huffs with frustration—he just wants Fai to know, somehow that this matters… that he matters. “The Manjuu might need one more day to recharge, but we can dodge at the first possibility. If this place bothers you, we can find something else.”

“No, It’s fine. Syaoran loves it here, and I’ll get over it, I’m just…. Memories are…” He casts a hand through the air, fluttering, as if that will describe it. It does, sort of, make a little sense. Kurogane sighs and leans forward far enough to press his brow to Fai’s.

To think. Not so long ago that Fai would never have been able to explain such a thing—wouldn’t have felt comfortable saying a word of it. They’ve built something better—stronger for all they’ve been through together and Kurogane longs to express that. Just—soon. Maybe not now. Not when he knows there’s already a lot going on in the mage’s head.

Fai leans in those last few inches and plies a soft kiss at the corner of Kurogane’s mouth before retreating. He wants to chase the sensation, but the look on Fai’s face stops him. “You, this place… I keep waiting for someone to tell me it’s all been a dream. It’s hard to believe something this nice exists—that I can have it without ruining it.” He can’t tell whether Fai means the world of the Academy, or what they have together. He doesn’t think Fai knows either.

“Hey—” he starts, utterly unsure of how to continue. Fai meets him with shaky breath and a wry smile.

“People like me don’t deserve nice things, Kuro-sama.” The mage says with utter certainty, no trace of doubt in his mind, and it kills Kurogane to hear.

He wants to be angry—to shout Fai’s ridiculous ideas of his own worth away, but he’s tried that. It won’t do anything in the end. He holds tighter instead, slides his hand just a little higher to cradle Fai’s thick skull. He wants to fix it—prove him wrong—give him worlds and worlds full of beauty just to show him.

You’re wrong, he wants to say, but he knows his idiot won’t listen. “I don’t care what you deserve,” he says instead. They’re close enough that he can feel Fai’s breath when the mage laughs this time, sad and tired.

“I know.”

Somehow those exhausted words in the dark feel like the start of a victory.

#TRC #tsubasa reservoir chronicle #Kurogane #Kurofai #Fanfic

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sugoi-writes · 6 years

Note

Could your write something about choromatsu taking his s/o to get their 1st tattoo & him passing out before it even happens & he wakes up & sees they got a little frog tattoo

(Okay I said I was gonna go in order but this Choro ask was so cute! I couldn’t resist! Here you go, Anon!)

Today had been the day. Choromatsu waited by his front door anxiously, checking his watch feverishly.

“S/o should be here already… I hope she’s alright! Her appointment is in—“

Before Choromatsu could finish his rambling, the sliding door opened, revealing you, clad in loose summer wear. You smiled warmly to your nervous boyfriend, as he instantly jumped with a start.

“A-Ah! Y-You’re here!” he stammered, reaching out to grasp your hand in both of his, rubbing it nervously,” Are you… you’re… well, are you… still sure about… g-getting a tattoo, S/o?”

You appreciated the sentiment that Choromatsu had offered you, chuckling as you grasp his hands with your free one, squeezing.

“I’m absolutely sure, Choromatsu,” you reply, instantly making Choro’s shoulders relax. He had been worried sick about the whole process. For starters, he initially said that it could be dangerous, because what if you got a staff infection? Ink poisoning? He did some research, and—

Oh! No! Even worse! The places in Akatsuka! Some of them were very shady parlors (one of which being a money trap, set up by none other than Iyami-san). There was NO WAY that he would let you go near those places! They’re filled with shady people, thugs, YAKUZA?! NEED HE SAY MORE?!

His thoughts were interrupted by you, tugging at him gently,” Put on your shoes, Choro-kun. We can go ahead and head out.”

Of course, with that sincere smile of yours, who was he to say no?

Once he was donned in his loafers, the two of you were off. Luckily, the place that Choromatsu had staked out for you was a small walk from the house… and NOT ran by Iyami.

Choromatsu gripped your hand protectively, being sure to stay close to you as the two of you walked. You had always found it amusing when he got like this, considering that he could barely be in the same room as you not long ago… As you reminisced about your precious boyfriend, he glanced over to you, having noticed your soft gaze on him.

“So… you did decide on your tattoo, right?”

You nodded gingerly, smiling to yourself. It was going to be a surprise, you mused to yourself.

“Mm-hmm! It’s going to be special! So I’m not really that nervous about it!”

Choromatsu couldn’t help but smile, his cheeks being dusted with an innocent pink,” That’s good… are you still keeping it secret?”

This earned him your snicker, as you bump him with your hip. When he stumbles over your simple action, you laugh, getting closer to you. Playfully, you looped your arms around one of his.

“Yep~ You won’t know until after it happens!” you practically sing. You were brimming with excitement, which did unnerve the nervous boyfriend of yours a bit. But nonetheless, he had made it known that he would support you in all of your endeavors. And now: there you were!

In no time, the two of you stood outside of a quant tattoo parlor, and Choromatsu was relieved that the facility was just as neat and clean looking as it was online. He spent a lot of time in the public library trying to find this place…

With a childish glee, you practically dragged Choromatsu in, who was still immensely nervous for you. His mind began to race again, his heart thumping quietly. What if the tattoo artist messed up? This would be something that’d be hard to remove. Actually, almost IMPOSSIBLE to, considering your financial status. You were lucky to save up the money between the two of you!

It didn’t help that you were going on FRIDAY THE 13TH?!?! Tattoos had seemed to be cheaper due to the holiday, but that just made Choromatsu all the more paranoid.

Would your tattoo be something involving with a 13? Is that your lucky number? Was this going to hurt you? Gosh, how was he supposed to take care of you? There was a vending machine in the building, he knew that, so maybe he could get you water! WATER! Yes, that’s right!

Amidst his shaking and troubling thoughts, you had already checked into your appointment, and signed your waver to be tattooed. You were just in the process of getting your ID back when Choromatsu snapped out of it. His blood ran cold when he began hearing the loud buzzing of a tattoo gun… the one that was going to be used on you, more than likely.

Sweat started to bead on his forehead, and he gently tugged you back, making you turn to him.

“S-S/o, maybe— just MAYBE— this isn’t a good idea! I know! We could get you a pack of temporary tattoos from the conveneince store! I know they aren’t very customizable, but it is much easier to correct and forget than a—“

“Choromatsu!” you finally manage to cut in, making Choro squeak shrilly. He looked to you with wide eyes, his hand grasping yours very tightly.

You take both of his hands into yours, and smile at your boyfriend genuinely; no teasing, no smirking.

“I promise everything is going to be okay… like you said. This place has great reviews, and the people here are very nice and courteous, from what I can tell. So relax. This won’t even take that long! We can get in, get out, and maybe go get some food afterwards? My treat.”

The prospect of food did not sound great to him right now, because he felt nauseous with worry. Despite this, he nodded and allowed you to lead the way to the back room, where your tattoo artist had been waiting. After knocking on the door frame, you were welcomed in, and you sat in the parlor chair. Meanwhile, Choromatsu sat close by, forcing himself to sit on his hands to keep him from fidgetting.

“So, I see that everything checks out… you said you had wanted this one on the back of your shoulder, right?”

You nodded as the tattoo artist asked you the question, gesturing to the spot,” About right here, though it’s going to be fairly small.”

The artist smiled and nodded,” Excellent spot! It’ll be very easy to cover, and you’ll be able to see it well in the summer!”

You agreed with him, and the two of you started to idly chat about the process: what pain to expect, what lotion to use, how long to keep the tattoo covered, etc.

Choromatsu, meanwhile… was a mess. He could hardly listen in on the conversation, his eyes trained on the tattoo gun. He usually wasn’t very squeamish at all. Quite the opposite, actually… but knowing that there were several risks involved with tattooing, this made him just as nervous as before.

He could already hear the buzzing of the gun in his head, making his ears feel like they were ringing. He couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt by all of this.

He hadn’t notice the tattoo artist sketching your tattoo, and transferring the finished line art to your skin. When he held up the mirror for you to examine it, you were thrilled with the job, and said that this would be perfect.

And so, you laid on your back, and removed the sleeve of your shirt on that side, giving the tattoo artist room to work with you. And then… Choro’s fear came to life. The buzzing began. Choro’s hand never snapped out that quickly. He snatched your hand, gripping it for dear life.

But, before Choro could ramble to you and ask that you reconsider, the gun already made contact with your skin. You flinched softly, but didn’t do anything overly dramatic. You lightly squeezed his hand, uttering a weak,” C-Choro… are you okay?”

“…I…I’m great, great… juuuuust great…,” was all he managed to get out, before he saw a trickle of your blood. This sent him over the edge, and he slouched over in his chair, falling completely unconscious. For a moment, you try to stop the process, wanting to comfort Choromatsu, before the tattoo artist stops you.

“Let him rest… I could tell he was nervous the whole time. He was sweating bullets for you. Nothing a bit of water and some snacks can’t help… He’s breathing, so he may have just stressed himself out too much.”

At the comforting words, you nod, still holding Choromatsu’s hand,” O-Okay… hopefully we can finish before he wakes up.”

Your tattoo artist smiles, winking,” This happens all the time~ We shouldn’t be at this for too long!” You smile, and nod in appreciation, letting the tattoo artist continue his bidding, the dull sound of the gun becoming white noise to you.

When Choromatsu woke up, you were at his side, holding his hand tenderly. You smiled, beaming down at him,” I’m glad you’re awake! We’ve been done for a little bit, and… I ran to the store to get you something.”

You hold out a small bag with some goodies, making Choro blink at you in confusion. You continue on, dotingly,”Eat a little bit. I think your blood sugar was a little low…”

Choromatsu looks to you with confusion, before eyeing the snacks dizzily,” You… you said you finished…? With your tattoo?” He sits up, yawning a little and smacking his lips.

Once the weight of your words hit him, he snapped his head towards you, eyes wide as dinner plates,” Y-YOU WENT THROUGH WITH IT???” He practiced shrieked, covering his mouth nervously.

Though he was groggy and still dizzy, the thoughts of how everything went made his adrenaline spike dramatically. But here you were, laughing heartily at his reaction. You take his wrists and remove them from his mouth.

“Hey, I told you it wouldn’t take long! It isn’t my fault you passed out on me~ But now that you’re awake, I can finally show you what I got!” you chimed.

Choromatsu was still fairly worked up, but… surely if you went through it all, it wouldn’t hurt to see it now? Choro sat up a little straighter, clearing his throat.

“Well… what is it?”

You smile back at him, and turn away from him, revealing your plastic-wrapped shoulder. Choro squinted, and behind the cellophane, he could see a small green… thing…

He asked you to come closer so he could see it, and upon inspection, he saw a small, green frog. It was in the style of something familiar; he was a character called Keroppi. When he saw this, he instantly flushed bright red, looking to you quickly.

“Y…You didn’t get this for me specifically… did you?” he asked gently. You had referred to him by Kero-kun as a pet name, due to his smile and natural expression. It had been a little joke that had been going on for years… and now, it was coming full circle.

You giggled and turned around, kissing your green-clad matsu on the cheek,” That’s why it was a surprise~ What do you think?”

Choromatsu smiled through his nerves and slight fluster, holding his head,” That was… really sweet, but… Ahh, I feel light headed again…”

You laugh and had Choromatsu lean back, rubbing his hands and smooching his cheek once more.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’, you like it~”

Choromatsu laughed along with you quietly, looping his arms around you. Were you reckless sometimes? Absolutely. Did you do things that drove him crazy or made him worry? DEFINITELY.

But your sentiment was just too adorable for him to handle. Oh, he knew that you got that tattoo with innocent, adorable intent. And this made his heart soar, knowing that you thought of him so admirably.

He would be sure to treasure that sweet affection, and would definitely admire your tattoo for years to come.

“It’s adorable… just like you.”

You snorted when Choro uttered this, squeezing him close as you two bask in heat of each other’s embrace.

(Thanks for reading! I personally haven’t gotten a tattoo, but I hope this was an okay read! Thanks for your request, dear! >3

#choromatsu x reader #choromatsu #hoeiuhwoiedh i like this one too #keroppi #I had to actually look that up because I forgot how to spell it #whoop whoop #he is a nervous boy and just wants what's best for you #gender neutral reader #osomatsu san imagines

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themurphyzone · 7 years

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Secret Santa Ch 6

Sorry about the wait! I went home for Thanksgiving and we just got the Internet back!

So yeah tons of cuteness in the last chapter. Headcanon that Bradley is totally a cat lover! Also Pepper’s original name was Ashley but then I thought Bradley already had a name that ends with -ley and it looked too similar. Besides, salt and pepper go together!

Ch 6- Bradley

“You’re picky, aren’t you?” Bradley asked. Pepper mewed and turned her nose up at the white cat bed Bradley pointed out. “Do you want a darker color?”

Pepper batted at the air in front of her.

“This one’s too big,” Bradley said, kneeling to look at the items on the bottom row. “And this one’s expensive.”

He set Pepper down so he could look at the price tag of a brown, circular bed. The fleece was soft and fluffy, and had room to spare as Pepper grew up.

“What about this one?” he asked, his heart sinking when he realized Pepper hadn’t answered like she normally did. “Pepper?”

It hadn’t been a week and he’d already lost track of his kitten. She couldn’t possibly get into trouble. No, there was no way she could waltz out the door and get chased by stray dogs or hit by a car or be buried in a landslide-

Bradley inhaled deeply, though it didn’t help calm his heart at all. He walked through the aisle twice, but there was no sign of a dark gray kitten anywhere.

“Bradley!” An all-too familiar voice shouted. “Hey! What are you doing here?”

The last thing he needed with this disaster of epic proportions was the epitome of catastrophe himself.

“Milo,” Bradley said flatly. “Go away. Weekends are my breaks.”

“Well, I can’t leave Diogee behind!” Milo cheerfully waved to Diogee, who was behind a large enclosure with a group of five other dogs. Diogee barked at the acknowledgement. “Also, Melissa’s the assistant teacher!”

“Assistant teacher for what?” Bradley asked.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Milo asked. “Diogee teaches ACL. American Canine Language for short. This pet store lets them use the space on Saturdays at noon. It’s really nice of them to do that.”

Melissa put a fluffy Pomeranian down, opening the door a crack so she could join the conversation but not let the dogs out. “Between you and me, I have no idea what they’re saying. I’m just here to pet some pooches,” she whispered to Bradley.

Bradley pulled away, quickly turning his back on Milo so he didn’t see his cheeks heat up. Of course he’d been thinking about Melissa’s gift, but he only thought about it during school since Pepper wasn’t distracting him. Not that all distractions were bad of course. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go find Pepper.”

“Did you lose her?” Milo asked. “I can help you look. It’s no trouble. Maybe I can get Diogee to sniff her out for you.”

“Yes, I lost her,” Bradley snapped. “And keep your mutt away.”

No amount of telling Milo to keep out of his business was working, so Bradley had no choice but to let Milo follow behind him. In that timespan, three shopping carts overturned and a large bag of dog food split open, the entire back half of the store now filled with the sounds of crunching kibble and barking dogs.

They checked the bird aisle, the toy section, the aquarium decorations, and the grooming services, but they still couldn’t spot Pepper anywhere.

“It’s hopeless,” Bradley muttered. “We’ll never find her.”

“Don’t give up!” Milo said. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

Bradley scoffed, folding his arms. “And how do you know?”

“Because she’s right next to your head,” Milo replied. “Hi, Pepper! You had us all worried!”

Bradley whipped around, but before he could scoop Pepper up, she turned tail and settled into a black cat bed, curling in on herself and yawning.

“I can’t believe she was napping the entire time,” Bradley said, taking the cat bed off the shelf. “I’m not hanging around longer than I need to. I only came in here to buy her bed.”

Milo nodded. “See you on Monday then! Bye, Pepper!”

“Keep your voice down! She’s asleep!”

Pepper adjusted to his house quickly, so he was able to focus his attention on his gift to Melissa.

She was intelligent, but often forgetful. Bradley had seen her weak throwing arm, so sports equipment was ruled out.

Safety equipment? She was almost always in the splatter zone.

But Melissa never hesitated in telling people off when she thought they were being too paranoid around Milo. In Bradley’s opinion, there was little paranoia in fearing for his life when ‘anything that can go wrong’ did not exclude dying.

He liked to think he had good self-preservation instincts, a skill which many kids at Jefferson County Middle School sorely lacked.

Maybe a second opinion wouldn’t hurt. Girls were complicated after all.

Bradley deliberately hung back while the other kids crossed the street to get to the bus stop. Since there were currently only four functioning buses due to circus elephants stampeding through the parking lot at the main district office, the buses wouldn’t come around for another fifteen minutes.

That was plenty of time to chat.

“Elliot, I have a question for you,” Bradley said.

Elliot was still shaking his fist at Milo. “And if I even see you trying to cover your arm with any bracelet that’s on my prohibited list, you’ll be sorry!”

Bradley rolled his eyes. “Do I want to know why you have a prohibited list for bracelets?”

“Not just for bracelets. Also includes any other pieces of jewelry that can potentially get caught on water heaters, streetlamps, or luggage carts,” Elliot replied. “Always good to help educate a student on safety protocol.”

“No, that was a question formulated out of disbelief,” Bradley sighed. “Say, hypothetically, there was a pretty girl at school and a Secret Santa exchange is coming up in less than a month. What would you get her?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Elliot said. “Matching safety vests! That way you can walk home at night and the color is bright enough so people can see you! Except make sure the girl in question isn’t also a regionally acclaimed skateboarder. Wendy didn’t like it that much when I gave tickets to all the other skateboarders at the state competition for violating basic safety principles. It totally wasn’t my fault. They deserved those citations for not completely wearing a protective bubble wrap layer while skateboarding along the half-pipe like any sane person would.”

Bradley wouldn’t be caught dead in one of Elliot’s overly saturated safety vests.

He walked to the bus stop with nine minutes to spare. “Thanks for nothing. I have no idea what I was thinking asking him for help,” he muttered.

“Why don’t you ask Milo?” Mort suggested. “He hangs out with Melissa all the time. He’ll probably know a lot of things that she likes.”

Bradley tapped his pencil in irritation and tried to focus on the assignment in front of him. “I am not asking the Boy Blunder for help. I’m not that desperate.”

Mort raised an eyebrow. “You say you aren’t desperate. But your aura is a deep purple like you’re afraid of what will happen in the near future should you fail to procure a suitable present.”

“Don’t try to read my thoughts,” Bradley snapped. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“And there’s a hint of green mixed in there too. Usually it stands for disgust,” Mort said.

Bradley shrugged. “In my defense, they were serving meatloaf for lunch.”

He was not going to regret this. He was not going to watch what little dreams he had crash and burn before they even got off the ground.

“I need help,” he said.

He fought the urge to scream, run, and live like a hermit for the rest of his life. Getting Melissa a present took precedence over his disdain for Milo. It was a constant internal struggle.

Milo gasped, a sickeningly bright smile taking over his face. “Sure! I’d love to help! I don’t know what you might need it for, but consider it accepted anyway!”

As he stood up in excitement, the open water bottle on his desk tipped over, spilling liquid all over the nearby electrical cords. The cords sparked and they quickly moved away from the small fire that sprung up.

He was definitely starting to regret this decision.

Looking around to make sure Melissa wasn’t in the vicinity, Bradley beckoned Milo closer, though he made sure there was an arm’s length between them. “What does Melissa like?”

“Lots of things!” Milo exclaimed. Apparently he never learned volume control, Bradley thought. “Good grades, friends, Diogee, music, risk-taking, bets, and puppies. I’m guessing puppies are kinda out of your budget though.”

As much as he wanted to disregard Milo, he had good ideas sometimes.

Only sometimes.

“Maybe not every kind of puppy,” Bradley said. “Does she like stuffed animals?”

Milo nodded. “She doesn’t really buy them herself. They’re usually gifts. And you can tell which ones were from me, because there’s always a leg or eye lost between the time I buy them and when she receives them. One time I knocked over the shelf where she displays them and now she has caution tape around the perimeter.”

“That’s all I need to know,” Bradley said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere else to be.”

“Where?” Milo asked.

A perfume cloud suddenly enveloped the classroom from a girl’s spilled bottle, causing the people in the back to cough as their senses were overwhelmed.

“Anywhere that doesn’t have an ocean mist scented perfume cloud,” Bradley replied, gathering his things and leaving the class so he didn’t get stuck with the scent all over his clothes. “And don’t think for one minute that asking for your help is going to be a regular occurrence.”

He found himself in the stuffed animal section of a toy store, looking through all the plush dogs on the shelves. They had just about every breed of canine imaginable, and Bradley belatedly realized he didn’t ask Milo about the breeds Melissa liked.

He tried to picture Diogee in his mind, though he had no idea what kind of dog he was. He appeared to be a corgi or dachshund though. It was probably the stubby legs.

After some debate, he picked a small Shiba Inu plushie complete with Santa hat. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but he hoped Melissa would find it cute anyway.

He was sure the plushie could never be as adorable as Pepper though.

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fangirlf · 7 years

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Prompt #16 Chuck Shurley

A/N: sorry that this is absolute garbage but yeah here’s the first fic I’ve written in two years

Pairing: Chuck/Reader

Request: Prompt #16 with Chuck

Word Count: 2215

When you first met Chuck, the prophet of the lord as he once had called himself, you felt something. You felt something for the alcoholic author, even within the first seconds of meeting him, and it scared you. Emotions weren’t really your strong suit. Of course you had them, but you did your damnest to hide them from anyone near you. You had too many emotions, and you knew how easily you could be manipulated if enemies were to find out. So, your primary instinct was to block the prophet out, ignore him until it became rude. Of course, you’d answer his questions and reply when he wanted to talk, but you always kept your responses short and sweet. You knew he had a thing for you, a soft spot even, and that just made it worse.

It was easier for you to block people out when they didn’t like you to begin with, but you couldn’t deny Fate’s pull between you and Chuck. The night you met was one of the worse nights in your life, mainly because it was the best. You knew what love did to hunters, and of course to those they loved. He was already dealing with throbbing headaches and visions of the world’s end, being a target for literally every monster you’ve come in contact with didn’t seem like a positive addition to his life.

But, Fate’s a bitch and apparently had it out for you. Almost every other case had you meeting up with Chuck, whether it be in New York or California. Your paths would cross quite frequently, much to your dismay. You had even started dreaming about him, nothing too spicy, your dreams mainly consisted of the two of you talking over coffee or brunch. You never remembered the conversations when you awoke in the morning, but it always left you feeling warm, the image of his crystal blue eyes looking kindly into yours as if you were baring your soul for him, branded permanently in your mind’s eye.

Chuck wasn’t an idiot, you knew that. You also knew that he had caught onto what you were doing, why you elected to ignore him. Did that make you stop? No. Of course, you really wanted to. If you hadn’t been brought into this life, maybe you would have explored the relationship, welcomed the sparks that caused your stomach to do backflips with open arms. But, woe is you, as that was not the case.

You were currently at a Supernatural convention, tricked into attending by Becky sending a fake red alert text to Dean through Chuck’s phone. You vaguely wondered how she got her hands on his phone, but quickly let the thought slip past your mind. There was no need to feel jealous over somebody you weren’t even going to chase after. Still, you felt a small twinge of dislike for the girl, and you weren’t too disappointed when she shifted her focus on Sam once more.

“You’re kidding me- there are people who actually want to be us?” Dean asks in his usual, overly-dramatic tone.

“Hey, I’m just as surprised as you are,” Chuck defends himself before a man walks up to him and says “5 minutes Mr. Edlund” before walking off. Chuck gives the three of you an apologetic look before turning around and making his way to the stage for Q and A, which, of course, went as well as you would expect. You weren’t sure how he was able to stay up on that stage without a bathroom break with as much water as he had been chugging. You definitely did not want to switch places with him, you’d be as nervous a wreck as he was.

And, now, he needed to be up there longer than he expected as the three of you found an actual case amidst the conventions ‘hunt’, and guess who got to go tell him while the other two went to collect the others? You, of course. Inwardly groaning, you walked up to the stage, Chuck’s eyes immediately falling onto you, curiosity evident in his expression but a delighted grin on his face nonetheless. You bit down the warm sensation you felt in your pit as you motioned for him to come closer.

“We have a problem,” you whispered hurriedly in his ear. His brows furrowed at your tone.

“What? What is it?” he asked, making sure to speak away from the mic.

“Turns out there’s an actual case here. You need to keep everyone in here until we give you the all clear,” you say, trying not to eye the audience that was completely silent, curious as to what you were talking about. God, you hated crowds.

“I-I have to be up here longer? Yeah, sure, no sweat,” he said, obviously not believing himself. You gave him an apologetic smile.

“Good luck,” you pat his shoulder and hopped off the stage.

“(y/n), wait!” he whisper-yelled. You turned back to him, standing in front of the first row of the audience. He gave you a desperate look, one he would always give you when you had to go back to hunting. You inhaled slowly and responded in a whisper that only he could hear.

“Look, I have to go do this, Chuck. So unless you have anything to tell me about the thing we’re dealing with, save it.”

You knew you were being rude, but the only other option would be to fall into the old lover’s quarrel over whether or not you should be doing something dangerous that could help others. So, biting back an “I’m sorry,” you turned on your heel and made your way back to the brothers.

The rest of the night wasn’t so bad, compared to other cases you’d been on. The three of you were able to burn the remains of the three boys, with help from two LARPing convention-goers. With the dangers lifted, everyone started making their way out of the hotel. Dean was talking with the fake Dean and Sam that burned the boys’ bones, while Sam was stuck listening to Becky gush over him. You were making your way back to the impala, wanting to get out of there, when you saw Chuck walking in your direction. You picked up your pace, not wanting to have to shield your emotions for much longer. It wasn’t everyday that you spent an entire day with the man you were almost certain was your soulmate, only to have to cram those feelings back inside yourself. You needed a break.

“(Y/n), stop, please!”

You sighed, knowing that he knew you heard him say your name and not having the heart to ignore him. You stopped in your tracks, waiting for him to catch up to you. When he did, you kept your eyes to the ground. He was silent for awhile, all you heard from him was breathing. It took you a minute to realize that he wanted you to look at him, which turned out to be a bad idea. His ocean blue eyes held so many emotions in them as they stared into yours. You faintly remembered the first time you locked eyes, feeling like you could get lost in them for days on end, with no regard for the world around you. That was almost always what it was like, staring into his eyes. You felt like the world melted away around you, leaving nothing but you and Chuck, together. Of course, this feeling scared you from the beginning. Getting lost in something, even if it’s the eyes of the person you loved, wasn’t the smartest thing to do when you’re a hunter.

Chuck gently held your hands in his, breaking you from your thoughts. “(y/n), don’t you see? The harder you push me away, the more I want to know you.”

You looked away, opting to stare at the trees surrounding the hotel’s parking lot, processing what he said. Though simple those words are separately, they almost brought tears to your eyes.

“Chuck,” you say, your voice nearly inaudible, tears threatening to spill. You cursed inwardly, knowing that this would happen sooner or later. See, you were great at bottling things up, but you weren’t so good at keeping those things from exploding.

He squeezed your hands gently, causing you to meet his eyes once more. “How long are you going to fight this, to fight me?” he asks, his voice cracking. “You know there’s something here.”

“Chuck, I can’t. You know the life I live, I can’t have all the bad guys coming after you, using you as leverage.”

“(y/n), I’m protected by an archangel, I don’t think they’d let anything happen to me.”

“Yeah well, angels are dicks. Yeah, they need you alive, but they don’t care if you’re hurt, or if you’re tortured to death. They’ll just bring you back,” you shake your head, adding a “Maybe,” at the end.

“So what? Is that any different than what you and the Winchesters go through? Trust me when I say, I can handle myself,” he reassures you, and for a moment, the insecure, paranoid prophet you knew was gone and replaced by someone more… confident, someone who you would relate with the phrase ‘old and wise’. You weren’t exactly sure why, but you believed him when he said he could handle himself, even if he wasn’t a hunter.

“Are you sure about that?” you asked, although you already knew the answer, and by the expression on Chuck’s face, he knew that you did.

“Look, all I’m asking for is a chance,” his eyes search yours desperately, hands holding yours as if you’d let go at any moment. You knew you should have tore your gaze from his, but you couldn’t deny the bond between the two of you. You wanted nothing more than to be with him, have an ‘apple pie life’ as Sam once called it, but no one really gets out of the life. Shit catches up to you when you settle down, hitting you when you least expect it. With all this information, the logical choice would be to turn on your heel and run, never looking back.

You sighed, for what seemed like the umpteenth time today, and gave his hands a squeeze. You thought about being logical but figured, screw it, when has being logical ever worked out in your favor? Maybe half the time, maybe more. You’d take your chances.

Instead of giving him a verbal response - something you were not so great at when it came to emotions - you tugged his hands, pulling him closer to you before pressing your lips against his in a gentle, sweet kiss. His arms immediately found their way to your waist, pulling your body flush against his as he deepened the kiss, surprising you a little seeing as Chuck wasn’t very pro-risk.

You faintly heard whooping near you, although you weren’t quite where it came from when the fact hit you that you were still in public, the center of attention for the rest of the convention-goers who hadn’t left as soon as the doors were open. You had the decency to pull away, your cheeks tinted with the lightest shade of pink. Chuck smiled at you, a genuinely happy expression on his face for once, and you couldn’t deny being just a little bit proud of being the person who caused it.

“So I-I take it that’s a yes?” he asks, eyes seeming a shade lighter than before.

“No, I just wanted to kiss you before I inevitably run away and don’t come back,” you reply like the smartass you are. You could tell by his expression that he wasn’t completely sure if you were joking or not. You roll your eyes, playfully hitting his shoulder. “Of course it’s a yes.”

“Fuckin’ finally,” You heard Dean curse behind you. You shook your head, a small smile on your lips, and as you looked at the prophet, you knew things would be okay. Of course, there would be pain and suffering like always, but things would be… relatively okay. You hadn’t realized it, but you had been carrying so much anxiety and fear with you - about hunting, about your emotions, everything - and when you finally let him in, you felt as if your fears had been washed clean, like a blank slate.

You’ve heard stories of people meeting their so-called ‘soulmates’, and how the feeling was like being reset, giving you a blank slate to work with once more and allowing you to learn from your past mistakes and not hold guilt for the things you couldn’t control. You’d never really believed the whole ‘soulmate’ thing, it’d seemed too far fetched for your taste. Only having one person to truly be yours, falling for them before even getting to know them, that didn’t seem likely. But, as you stood here, in Chuck’s embrace, staring up into his kind eyes, you started to think that maybe the idea of a ‘soulmate’ wasn’t so bad. That maybe, just maybe, Chuck was your soulmate and you were his.

The small smile that rested on your face turned into a grin.

I’d be okay with that, you told yourself.

And Chuck agreed.