PROTECTIVE SHIELD| K.RÄIKKÖNEN

[x] IMAGINE STEALING KAZ'S CLOTHES AND HE PRETENDS NOT TO NOTICE.

requested by anon

---

It had begun when you had been alone at Kaz's office and felt cold. You had been feeling lazy, so you had thought to borrow Kaz's shirt this one time. But you had ended up stealing that shirt. And a few more pieces of clothing after that.

You couldn't help it, you just found so much comfort from his clothes. And especially if they had a faint scent of him. You didn't put his shirt on every day, but when you missed him when he was away, it was a cold day or when you just wanted to have physical comfort from him, you put his shirt on and it kind of felt like he was holding you, even though you couldn't know how it would really feel like.

Today, it was a particulary chilly day and your regular attire didn't feel like enough. You glanced at the drawer where you had hidden some of Kaz's shirts - you knew they wouldn't warm you up any more than your own clothes would, and Kaz was present, so there was a greater risk that he'd catch you. But it was still tempting. You knew he wouldn't lash out on you about that, you still feared that it would feel embarassing for him.

But if you'd hide it well enough, he'd never know. So you slipped Kaz's shirt on, buttoning it up before putting your jacket on and ensuring that the shirt won't show up too much under it. Then you left your room, ready for the new day.

The day went on normally, Kaz was his brooding himself who snapped at Jesper and Nina whenever they made teasing remarks on how his tone of voice changed slightly with you or how his face softened just a bit when he looked at you. Kaz had tried to keep your relationship as a secret from the Crows too at first, but it didn't take long from them to figure it out.

And today, it was the first time you were wearing Kaz's shirt when he wasn't away. You thought you had succeeded in being subtle, that he didn't know, but he knew. Oh, he knew. He had known it since he first saw it when he returned earlier than expected from one of his heists, and suspected it already when three of his shirts were missing. And secretly, he loved it, seeing his shirt under your jacket. For him, it meant that you were fully comfortable around him. And until he would hopefully be better with touch, he was happy that you found physical comfort from his clothes when he couldn't provide it to you yet.

One day, he hoped he'd be able to hold you, but until then... his clothes would do it for him.

A/N: To the requester, thank you for your compliments ❤ And I know you requested a "fic" and probably waited for a longer piece but as much as I love Kaz, I can't keep breaking my own rules to make all my Kaz pieces long when the request is gif imagine-sized because otherwise I could burn myself out with Kaz because people would always assume long pieces even from the vaguest of requests and that would eventually also mirror itself on other characters I don't crush on. I'm sorry if I've disappointed you by not providing a oneshot.

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PLEASE LORD HAVE MERCY IM CLAWING AT THE WALLS RN

Kaz Brekker and Mutual Ma$terba$tion.

Be My Hands: Kaz Brekker x Reader *#~

18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!

If you’re tagged it’s simply because I copied the tag list for Kaz.

Obviously I can’t control your actions but if you’re not 18+ do not interact with this post or Tumblr can get me in trouble!

(If you’d like to not be tagged in future smutty/spicy Kaz fics, please let me know!)

Description: 3.6k wc, smut/spicy fic with Kaz. Cannon Kaz, still has a touch aversion but finds himself and his girlfriend needing release so they compromise by verbally guiding the other while they be each other’s hands. (Kaz style aftercare featured)

Warnings: sexual content, mentions of touch aversions (anxiety & related notes), 18+ Only, cursing

Minors DNI, 18+ Only below the break; sexual content present

Kaz crumpled yet another piece of paper and tossed it to the side, still unable to collect his thoughts.

The heist went sideways hours ago and he hadn’t been able to figure out why or how he should’ve been able to prevent it.

It had never taken him this long before, he was usually done within a few minutes and spent the rest of the night sulking.

Meaning it really shouldn’t take him long tonight since it was only a minor deviation and not much of a set back.

He should’ve been able to figure this out hours ago.

However, y/n had never not been in his office after a night like this.

Kaz sensed things were tense between them lately but since he didn’t know why he elected to let it blow over.

As he sat alone in his messy office tonight, he regretted that decision.

Clearly that was another plan he made that failed.

Begrudgingly he rose from his desk, bracing himself on his cane as he walked to the door.

If she wasn’t coming to him, he’d go to her.

Kaz lingered outside her door as his mind raced to find the best way to greet her.

She was already mad, but he didn’t know why and therefore which side of him would be most helpful here.

If he let Kaz Rietveld greet her and she’d been mad about one of his triggers or weaknesses that would make it worse.

Not that y/n ever got upset let alone mad over that, but Kaz anxiously awaited the day he felt was inevitable.

If he let Dirtyhands Brekker greet her and she was mad he’d been too distant or mundane it would surely piss her off more.

He sighed, annoyed at himself for even allowing himself to get so attached to her that he cared about these things.

Kaz tapped his cane against her door twice and awaited a response.

He heard some shuffling around before y/n opened the door for him.

Her hair was a bit disheveled from seemingly running her hands through it, but it was clear she’d tried to fix it before opening the door.

“Love,” he greeted briefly, the versions of himself compromising.

She smiled nervously at him which made him sigh.

“May I?” He asked, tipping the crow’s head end of his cane in the direction of her bedroom chambers.

A room in which she rarely ever was, having usually been sleeping in his room while he worked.

Kaz watched her throat tighten as she swallowed before nodding.

He took inventory of her room, the way he would any room he’d stepped into where he felt unsure of his surroundings.

He’d been in here before but tonight he was unsure where he stood with her and hoped the room would provide him some clues.

Y/n’s bedding was wrinkled and the poorly made bed was evidence she’d futilely tried tucking the sheets back into place before letting him in.

Kaz tightened his grip on the crow’s head, despising himself for whatever he did that prompted her to chose to sleep here instead.

Sure it was her room, but he couldn’t recall the last time she’d actually slept in it.

“Kaz…” she mumbled, standing a solid distance away, “you look like you have something on your mind”.

Kaz pressed his lips into a tight line as he turned to face her, but was unable to look into her eyes and ask his question, “are you mad at me?”.

Her silence caused him to turn his gaze upwards from the floor and to her face.

He watched the shocked look on her face turn to confusion before she shook her head, “No Kaz. I’m not mad at you”.

“Y/n, do not lie to me” he grumbled.

“I’m not” she sighed.

He stared at her and took a step closer to her, noticing how her body tensed when he did, “you’ve been distancing yourself from me. Yet, you claim you are not mad?”

Y/n quickly looked to the far wall as if one of her pinned up photos was suddenly more interesting than this conversation.

Yet, in a whispered voice she still spoke, “I’m not mad, Kaz”.

Kaz squinted, taking a step back to create more distance for her, “are you afraid of me then?”

She snapped her head towards him, a concoction of confusion, shock, anger, and guilt storming her face, “of course not!”

“Then tell me” he ordered, closing his eyes for half a second to compose himself, “if you’re not suddenly scared of me, tell me why you are distancing from me if you’re not mad”.

“I…I’m… not mad… I umm.. I’m..” she mumbled, biting her lip.

Kaz gave her a concerned look and took a cautious step towards her again, continuing when she didn’t look away.

“You’re not mad, but you are… what?” He asked calmly, a foot from her now.

“Frustrated” she whispered.

“What?” He repeated, not sure he heard her correctly.

“Frustrated!” She blurts loudly, looking away and pulling in her hair, “I’m frustrated, Kaz”.

“Frustrated is synonymous to mad, love” Kaz sighed harshly.

“Not that way” she said, shifting her gaze around rapidly.

“I don’t und-“ he stopped, realization hitting him.

He’d read the signs wrong.

Her hair wasn’t a mess due to running her hands through it out of anger.

His eyes shifted to her bed.

The bedsheets weren’t wrinkled and a mess because she’d been sleeping in them.

“Were you just touching yourself?” Kaz asked, the tension in the room thickening.

He noticed she refused to look at him, so he gently tapped her toe with the bottom of his cane.

She still didn’t look at him but nodded minimally.

Kaz felt his face heat up and an uncomfortable feeling form in his body at her confession.

Well, it wasn’t the feeling that was uncomfortable, it was the knowledge he couldn’t act on it.

The knowledge that he’d found himself needing sexual relief on numerous occasions with relation to her and not being able to act on it due to his touch aversion.

He hated that he put her in that same position and also that he couldn’t offer either of them the release they both needed and desired.

The biggest irritation he had with his aversion was that his body still held the capacity for desire and sexual attraction but he couldn’t act on it.

He hated that he wanted more than anything to be able to take her here and now but the thought also made him nauseous.

“Show me” Kaz said faintly, his brain body desperate for a compromise.

“What?” She squeaked, her eyes finally landing on his dark and fully dilated pupils.

“Show me what you like” he repeated, taking a slow step towards her bed.

“Kaz, what?” She asked breathlessly as her eyes widened.

He looked at the ground in guilt, “I cannot give you what you want”.

Y/n began to interrupt but he held his gloved hand up to signal her to stop.

“But, I’d like to see what it is you want” He said, his voice shaking.

He wasn’t sure he could handle this.

Sure she’d be touching herself, not him touching her.

But, he felt he might combust watching her get herself off by doing things to herself he could only dream of doing to her one day.

“Kaz. We don’t have to do this” She offered kindly, sensing his nervousness.

“I want to. I want to watch. Touch yourself for me. Be my hands” Kaz declared, his pants already feeling tighter as he admitted this desire.

Y/n took a shaky breath but nodded and made her way to the bed, unceremoniously crawling onto it.

She wasn’t opposed to it, but she knew intimacy was intense for Kaz and she didn’t want to push.

Y/n bit her lip as Kaz moved to stand beside her bed, as close as he’d allow himself to be.

“Kaz, I know this is really vulnerable for you, so we can take this as slow as you need and stop whenever. You’re in control here, okay?” She promised, staring into his eyes.

Kaz’s eyes softened for a moment -as he offered her a small smile and nodded-, before they shifted back to their dark state with a recently displayed lust tinting them.

He’d seen her naked before, having changed in front of him countless times at this stage in their relationship, but this was different; for both of them.

She felt her heart quicken, her hands trembling with nerves as she shyly started to lower her pants once again.

“Love, don’t be nervous, if you need, I’ll guide you through it. Just be my hands” Kaz heard himself state, surprising them both.

Y/n took a deep breath of air and nodded rapidly.

Kaz smirked, his eyes closing lustfully as he let them both catch their breath before beginning.

When he opened them, his pupils dilated again seeing she’d stripped out of her pants and panties, her lower half now fully exposed to him.

“Fuck” he breathed out, letting a rare curse slip.

She blushed but kept her eyes on his with a small smile on her lips.

“Shirt” he said, clarifying when his request was met with confusion, “your top too”.

Y/n smirked at him as she slowly removed her shirt to display her bare breasts before him, practically making him hard right away.

He swallowed thickly, adjusting his stance awkwardly, “you are perfect”.

Kaz learned long ago she loved him complimenting her and while he’d let that vulnerable side of him out more often since that discovery, this was new.

He’d reassured her how beautiful she was the first time he’d seen her naked body, needing to help her patch up a cut on her rib and thigh after a heist.

But this, this time, she was laying here before him, not because she was hurt or getting ready for bed.

Instead, she was all but presenting herself to him; a vulnerable and important moment for them both.

Kaz stared into her eyes, making sure she was comfortable with what they were about to do.

When he felt confident she was, he shut his eyes and softly said, “show me what you were doing”.

She nodded, looking down at her waist, her hand moving towards her center.

Y/n gazed off into space as she slowly ran her pointer finger down her pubic mound towards her lips.

Kaz eyes fixed on her finger, wanting so badly for it to be his own touching her that way.

He took a shaky breath at the thought of his son on her’s making her immediately stop and stare at him with concern.

He shook his head to calm her worries, “Don’t stop. Just, talk to me during it”.

She nodded, remembering how he’d cling to the sound of her voice when anxious.

“So,” she said with a breathy shyness, “ when I find myself needing a release, I start with this”.

Kaz focused on her voice and explanation while his eyes studied her demonstration and instructions with such intensity it was as if her pleasure were a heist he must successfully complete.

After a few minutes Kaz had become more comfortable and realized the bulge in his pants was already a step ahead of him.

He blindly reached for her desk chair, knowing he should sit.

But he couldn’t find it without looking away from her, and he wasn’t able to do that.

Kaz stared as her thighs clenched together, firmly trapping her hand between them.

"Spread your legs. I want to see how turned on I make you” he said, looking from her seized legs to her dazed eyes.

Her lips parted slightly as she complied, her hand now being the only thing blocking his view of her full anatomy.

“More” he said, his deep voice betraying his pleading, as did his gloved hand faintly placed on her closest knee.

“I love hearing you moan” Kaz blurted, pressing his hand firmly against his throbbing shaft through his pants.

She looks at him through hooded eyes, the fingers on her left hand still inserted into herself.

“Curl your finger” Kaz advised, an idea forming in his mind.

Y/n smirked lazily at his newly formed scheming face as she followed his suggestion.

“No, no, your ring finger” he corrected, his piercing eyes that were frozen on her swollen and flushed bare skin around her vulva, unsatisfied with the choice she made.

“Oh saints!” She cried out, her head slamming back into her bed aggressively.

Kaz felt his dick twitch as he proudly relished in her loud moans and watched her hips lift off the bedsheets.

“Mmm, that’s it, good girl” Kaz said, his voice dark.

Y/N’s eyes flitted closed as she twirled her hooked finger around inside of her walls, trying to not be so loud as she didn’t want to risk the others hearing.

“Mmm, come on darling” he whined, “let me hear you.” 

She stirred slightly before pushing her fingers in deeper, moaning pleasurably as her vaginal opening stretched even more.

“That’s it” he grinned, his sight clouding a bit as he unconsciously began stroking his length through his dress pants, “I want to hear you say my name”.

Y/n needed a moment, so she slowly pulled her now soaking wet fingers from her vagina and rested her hand on her stomach, smirking at him.

“You what?” She teased, pretending she couldn’t hear his request.

His vision cleared as he lightly glared at her, “you heard me”.

She hummed, dancing her fingers tauntingly over her exposed skin from her neck down to her hips, “I don’t know that I did… Kaz”.

Kaz’s head snapped to the side quickly, his hand reaching out and pulling the desk chair to him.

He sat down just as his knees threatened to buckle from the tension between his legs and the sight of y/n sprawled teasingly before him.

Kaz knew he wasn’t going to win this, especially in his current state, so he repeated himself, “I need to hear you say my name”.

She smirked at him, “Kaz”.

He threw his head back in frustration with so much force he was surprised the chair didn’t break under him, “you know what I mean”.

Y/n loved seeing him like this, over her.

So she decided to drag it out a bit more, smiling innocently as she asked, “no, can you elaborate what it is you need me to do, Kaz?”.

Kaz clenched his jaw, returning his head to its normal position and watching the devilish glimmer in her eyes, “don’t push it, you’re the one who needed this. I can leave any moment”.

Y/n saw through his bluff, tilting her head sideways as she pushed her self up until her arms were supporting her back and half raised position.

“Kaz, honey, you can pretend all you want” she winks, bringing her still wet fingers up to her face and tracing the outline of her lips, “but I can see the mess you're making of yourself”.

He froze in confusion, following her gaze as she stared at his lap.

Kaz felt his cheeks double in temperature as he saw he’d practically ruined his dress pants.

The material now wet and clinging to him.

He closed his eyes and sighed.

“It’s okay Kaz, but I don’t think you’re quite done” she whispered sweetly, “why don’t I help you?”

Kaz stared up at her, his eyes soft but jaw tense, “I-… I can’t… yet.. I-“.

She shook her head, “I’m not going to touch you honey, I promise”.

He nodded appreciatively.

“You wanted me to moan your name?” She asked delicately.

He forced a weak glare making her laugh softly, “I can do that. But first, remove your pants”.

Kaz hesitated for a moment before standing enough to lower them to the floor.

“Now your underwear, the poor things are very clearly in both of our ways” she added, Kaz sighing tranquilly as he pushed the hem of his underwear towards the ground and let his penis fly upwards when it was free.

“Now, cup one hand around yourself, from underneath” y/n said, her gaze never leaving his erection.

Kaz obeyed, shivering as his cold leather glove wrapped around his length.

Y/n moaned lightly, Kaz’s eyes jumping to watch as her fingers walked down her bare body to her clit.

“With the other, rub the tip” she whispered seductively.

Kaz didn’t hesitate to do so and mirrored her moans with his own as he did.

“Look at me” Kaz rasped as her gaze has shifted to her waist.

“Oh, fu-“ y/n sighed, the knot in her stomach growing.

Kaz clenched his jaw more tightly as he continued masterbating as she had requested, but secretly trying not to climax yet.

He was fairly certain the leather in his gloves was going to cause his shaft to be raw by the end of the night but he couldn’t care less.

“Cum for me” he ordered sharply, not sure how much longer he could resist his release.

Y/n sensed his predicament and puckered her lips to blow him a kiss, “just let go Kaz”.

Kaz shook his head, but as she resumed circling her clit he found his resistance weaning.

“More pressure” he advised her, having made mental note of what seemed to work best for her earlier in the night.

“Ka-Kaz,” she moaned, her eye lids fluttering as she pushed her thumb harder against her clitoris.

At that, Kaz’s self preservation disintegrated in an instant.

“Oh” he moaned, his voice breathy, “fuck”.

He threw his head back, his neck bending as the back of his head rested between his shoulder blades.

“Don’t stop doing what I taught you. You’re being my hands, remember? Keep moving” She ordered, a smirk painting her tone.

“Y-y/n” Kaz shakingly mumbled, his eyes glazed over, “fuck, you’re… fuck”.

Kaz was certain it was the least intelligible thing he’d ever spoken but the bliss he felt kept him from caring.

He wiped the white cream from himself and the bedspread next to her, too relaxed to be embarrassed over the mess he made and how vulnerable he was.

“Shit, Kaz” she groaned, her lips curling at the ends as she watched him.

“Cum for me” he repeated his earlier request.

Y/n chuckled softly, tiredly bringing her hand back down to her wet lips.

“Kaz” she moaned softly, her eyes glimmering as she held eye contact with him.

Kaz smiled faintly, lifting his cane.

He delicately tapped the side of the crow’s beak to y/n’s swollen clitoris twice before lowering his cane back to the floor.

She shivered at the cold sensation before her eyes darkened as she looked back over at him.

He nodded with a smirk on his lips, “keep your eyes open and on me”.

Y/n silently obeyed, her fingers picking up their pace.

Kaz’s smirk grew as he watched her desire increase.

He intentionally ran a hand through his hair, having been clued in that it was a turn on for her.

She grinned and shook her head weakly, letting him know she knew what he was doing.

Triggering another turn on, Kaz held eye contact with her as he smirked more before licking his lip, “so unfathomably irresistible”.

Kaz lips shifted into a cocky grin as she loudly whimpered his name, her back arching towards the ceiling and legs trembling.

“That’s it darling, just keep being my hands” he encouraged, watching as she softly stroked herself as she rode out her orgasm.

“While I must point out that we could have started this much earlier had you not hid, I do prefer the location” Kaz stated, handing her a towel from her dresser.

“Oh?” She asked, her voice still faint from her climax.

“It means I don’t need to clean my sheets” he smirked teasingly.

She scoffed, feigning offense.

“Hmm, well, I suppose we’ll see if the door will be unlocked next time or not” she teased, delicately cleaning herself up.

Kaz squinted at her as he pulled his trousers back up.

“Fine, I can begin washing my sheets” he complied.

“You haven’t been washing them?!” She gasped, wanting to smack his shoulder.

Kaz chuckled, a laugh he’d only allow the person currently before him to ever hear, “Of course I’ve cleaned them; you sweat in your sleep”.

Y/n’s jaw dropped as she stared at him in shock, somehow mortified over the idea of her sleep sweating in his bed, despite what just happened in here between them.

Kaz laughed loudly, his dimples showing as he shook his head, “darling, it was a joke. You’re perfect”.

Y/n placed the towel on the other side of her, turning to face Kaz as she tugged on her blanket.

He smiled tenderly at her - another behavior only she’d witness- before standing to help pull her blanket over her body the way she wanted.

His gloved hands were sure to never touch her skin during the act.

But, as he set the fabric over her bare chest, he sucked in a deep breath before he slid his gloved fingers under her arm to tuck in the blanket.

He’d touched her skin more directly than that by now, but after the intensity of the moment immediately prior, he didn’t want to risk ruining the intimate moment they shared by taking a chance.

She smiled up at him, her body relaxed and eyes heavy.

Kaz nodded as he sat back down in his chair.

“Kaz” She whispered, waiting until he nodded again for her to continue.

“Do I swear in my sleep?” She asked, making him laugh again.

He rolled his eyes, “I honestly would not know. It’s my obsessive need to stick to a routine that prompts me to wash our sheets, not you “.

Her shoulders lowered as she nodded happily, “okay. So your room next time?”.

Kaz smirked, resting his gloved palm a few centimeters from her arm, “as long as you’ll continue to be my hands for now, we can do whichever room”.

“If you’ll be my hands taking care of you, I’ll be yours” y/n promised, grinning tiredly at him.

Kaz nodded in agreement, “the deal is the deal. Now, rest”.

Y/n grinned at him once more before letting her eyes close, peacefully falling asleep. 

Kaz Brekker Navigation/Masterlist

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Soulbound Ch 4

In The Beginning: (Y/N)'s Version

3rd Person POV:

(Y/N) and Dean are asleep in the motel room, Dean on one bed while (Y/N) is asleep on the other. Sam was supposed to be asleep on the floor, the Winchester boys usually taking turns so (Y/N) could always have the bed. But Sam, tonight, was awake and dressed. He grabs his coat and looks at his brother and surrogate sister before leaving the room. 

Sam walks outside as Ruby pulls up in an old Camaro. He gets in the passenger side and looks at her. "Ready?" She asks him.

"Definitely."

~~~~~~~

1st Person POV:

"It's all your fault!" My mother screamed, kicking me again as I cry out in pain. "It's all because of you."

I try to get to my hands and knees, only for her foot to make contact with my side, rolling me onto my back. She kneels next to me as I try to back away, but her hand grabs my neck, nails digging into the skin. My hands grab her wrist, trying to pry it off with no avail. She sinks her other hand into my chest, squeezing my heart as hard as she can, making me gag and gurgle on my own blood.

"I wish I never had you..."

I gasp and sit up on the bed, an aching feeling in my chest. I pant heavily and let out a yelp, seeing a figure at the foot of my bed. Calming down as I see the familiar trenchcoat. 

"Hello (Y/N). What were you dreaming about?" The gravelly voice of Castiel reaches my ears.

"Don't worry about it." I mumble, looking over to see Dean's bed empty and Sam not on the floor. "Where are the boys?"

The angel ignores my question, "Listen to me. You have to stop it."

"Stop what?"

Castiel doesn't say anything, only putting two fingers to my forehead.

~~~~~~~

"Move it lady, you can't sleep here." I hear a voice say, and feeling a nudge on my shoulder. I jump slightly and open my eyes, a police officer standing over me. 

I nod quietly and sit up as the police officer walks away. I look at the bench I'm sitting on, seeing an advertisement for a lawyer, the phone number has a Sioux Falls area code. I look at the surrounding buildings, recognizing some of them from when Bobby and I would go into town. 

I see Katherine's Diner, where Bobby would take me when my report cards showed good grades at school. The post office was next to it, then the grocery store. But the buildings and the details looked, newer? Less worn with age.

I take my phone out of my pocket and dial Bobby's number but I have no signal. "Fuck..." I mumble, getting up and going into the diner, seeing a newspaper on a rack by the door. 'Continental Airlines Crashes: Killing 28' is the headline. The date reads November 20, 1987. 

My eyes widen in shock, this is three days before the demon kills my family. Two and a half months after I was born. 

"Be careful now, (D/N), ya hear?" I turn around, seeing a waitress talking to a man with (H/C) and (E/C). Is that...my dad? My eyebrows furrow as I decide to follow him out of the diner, keeping a distance. I turn a corner around a laundromat, bumping into someone. "Shit- sorry.." I tail off, seeing Castiel, his hands on my shoulders to steady me. "Castiel? What is this?"

The angel tilts his head slightly, removing his hands, "What does it look like?"

"Is it real?" It barely comes out in a whisper, looking up at him with sad eyes.

"Very."

"S-So angels got their hands on a TARDIS? How did I get here?" I stutter.

"Time is fluid, (Y/N). It's not easy but we can bend it on occasion," Castiel says, looking at the street then back at me.

"Then bend it back! Or tell me what the hell I'm doing here!" My voice raises slightly.

His blue eyes bore into my (E/C) ones, "I told you. You have to stop it."

"Stop what? That demon from possessing my mom?" As soon as I get the question out, a car horn blares loudly, making me turn my head. When I look back at Castiel, I see he's gone. "Oh come on!"

~~~~~~~

After catching up to my dad again, I followed him as he walked home. To the house where my mom and my baby self were. Neither of my biological parents were hunters as far as I'm aware, so I'm sure he didn't notice. Their house was a quaint little two-story building, white with light blue trim around the windows and door, much farther inside town than Bobby's. 

From a distance I can see my parents getting in their car, my dad holding a baby carrier. I take a moment to break into the car belonging to the neighbors four or five houses down while my dad secures the baby carrier in the backseat. I quickly get inside the car and hotwire it like Bobby showed me. I usually didn't have to do this part, Dean usually stole the cars.

I follow them to the diner again, parking on the otherside of the parking lot from them. I watch as they go inside, looking for any sign that my mom is already possessed. I go around to the side of the building as they get seated at a booth. My dad is still carrying baby-me in the carrier.

I watch from the window, honestly feeling like a grade-A creep. I hear the flap of wings that's getting all too familiar. "Can you at least tell me if she's possessed yet?" I don't even look at him, keeping my eyes on my mother.

"No, no she's not." Castiel's gravelly voice speaks up from a couple feet behind me.

"Why am I here to stop this? Demons will just keep coming for me," I finally look back at him.

His stoicism breaks for a second, looking a little guilty. "I can explain more in due time."

"Does Sam and Dean even know where I am? Does my dad?" My eyebrows furrow as I cross my arms over my chest.

"No. Sam is...off. Dean is preoccupied with his own business. As for your father, he's researching more seals."

"Take me back, I don't want to watch my parents die," my voice breaks a little, much to my dismay, but it's almost easy to feel vulnerable with Castiel. Stupid soulbond.

His guilty look deepens, "I can't. I'm sorry. I.." he sighs, "I have to go, watch out." With another flutter of wings, he disappears.

"Watch out? Watch out for what?" I call back, only to be met with silence. A pair of arms wrap around my middle, holding my tightly as I struggle. I grunt as I try to pry the arms off before swinging my elbow back and feeling it collide with the side of someone's head. The arms let go and I turn around. My dad clutches the side of his head, glaring at me. 

"Why're you following us?" He asks angrily.

"Are you crazy?" I retort, making the man swing at me. His hit lands, connecting with my cheekbone. I grunt, he swings again, but this time I grab his arm and swing him into the side of the building. I could feel my cheekbone swell and bruise. I hold my dad against the wall, his front against the brick. 

"You've been trailing us since my house!" He yells, pushing off the wall and grabbing the collar of my shirt. He pins me where he just was, my hands grabbing his wrist.

"I don't know what you're talking about-" I start before he interrupts me.

"Really?" 

I try to pry him off of me, but he only drags me forward then slams me against the brick. The back of my head collides with the wall, making me grit my teeth, my vision darkening around the edges a little. "O-Okay how about we talk about this, are you a hunter?" 

"Hunter? Like camo and a rifle? No, what the hell?" My dad looks at me with crinkled eyebrows. He looks conflicted, almost like there's familiarity behind his eyes. He lets go of my shirt and I slide down the wall as my head pounds. "I better not ever see you again. If you so much as look at my wife or daughter, I'll kill you." He threatens, walking away, presumably back to my mom who's still inside. 

I reach around, clutching the back of my head. Bringing my hand back out in front of me I don't see any blood, that's a good sign. But I would bet money on a minor concussion. "Well, you just injured your daughter ya fuck," I grumble, slowly standing up and regaining my barings. 

~~~~~~~

I down my third cup of gas station coffee, trying to stay awake as I sit in the stolen car in front of my parents house. Partially to keep watch and partially to not fall asleep, which is dangerous with a head injury. 

The lights are off and it's quiet. Not eerily quiet, but it's...safe. It seems like a peaceful neighborhood, ya know, where kids are out playing in the yards with other neighborhood kids. The school bus stop on the corner and moms calling to their kids to not forget their lunches. Family life. The apple pie life as Dean would put it. Something I was screwed out of.

"Do I even want to stop it?" I ask myself quietly. If I did, Bobby wouldn't adopt me. I never would meet Sam and Dean Winchester. I wouldn't know monsters exist. I wouldn't know how to fight, or maybe I would based on how my dad kicked my ass. I did a little digging, learning my dad was in the military. He's only been home for a year. Which tracks with my birth. That explains how he could fight so fluidly.

I sigh to myself, honestly still conflicted on if I should even save them. And it makes me feel like shit. I mean, they're my parents, and it's my job to protect people from monsters. But at the same time, I don't know these people. And I don't want to not have the life I have now. I can't imagine not sitting in a little diner with Sam and Dean every other day. I can't imagine not helping Bobby with research or drinking beers with him and the boys. 

Bobby and I placed the last few bricks down, dusting off our hands. 

"Ready, kid?" He asked fourteen-year-old me.

I nod, a little giddy as I go and grab some lawn chairs and circling them around the newly built firepit. I called and asked Sam and Dean if they'd come over and decided they were gonna come up from their finished case in Louisiana, and they'd be here anytime. Bobby pours ice into a cooler nearby, putting several cases worth of beers in it as well. I knew he was gonna let me have a couple before making me switch to water.

He slams the cooler shut as the rumbling of the Impala pulls up in front of the house. It's sunset, or right about. Bobby asked them to bring a couple pizzas with them too, and not to worry about beer, he obviously had that covered. Bobby and I walk around to the front of the house, seeing Sam holding the pizzas. Sam was eighteen, Dean was twenty-two. It was right before Sam took off for college. 

I smile widely, running up and hugging Dean first, happy to see the two men I would consider my brothers. I let go of Dean and hug Sam from the side so I don't make him drop the pizzas. "It's good to see you boys, where's your dad?" Bobby asks, clapping Dean on the shoulder.

"He, uh, went on another case." Sam said, his voice full of tension. And both boys probably fought with their father to get here.

"Forget John okay? We made something for you guys!" I basically bounce with excitement, pulling Sam by his wrist, Dean and Bobby following. All three of them were smiling, the tension slowly forgotten as we round the corner.

"Ta-da!" I grin, gesturing to the firepit in the middle of the dirt. 

The Winchester boys grin as Bobby lights the fire. We all sit around the flames, drinking beer, eating pizza, and relaxing. A night I will never forget.

Yeah, I can't imagine my life without that.

~~~~~~~

Deciding I needed advice, I went to the best hunter I knew. I drove to the outskirts of town, seeing the all too familiar 'Singer's Salvage Yard' sign as I pull into the dirt driveway. Getting out of the car, it honestly doesn't look like it's changed too much. I walk up the stairs to the porch and knock on the door.

Bobby answers the door after a couple minutes, albeit twenty-two years younger, "what do you want?"

"Hi- uh, Bobby Singer?" I ask.

"Who's asking?" He grumbles.

I fidget nervously, "look, I don't know if you'll believe me, but I need advice, hunter to hunter."

Bobby reluctantly lets me inside, but not before splashing me with holy water. I sigh in irritation, pulling the collar of my shirt aside so he can see my anti-possession tattoo. "Not a demon." For good measure, I walk over to the bookshelf I know he hides a silver knife in. I hold out my arm, using the silver blade to cut just below my elbow as I grit my teeth. "Not a shapeshifter."

Bobby nods in apprehensive acceptance. "alright out with it kid. Why are you here?"

"My name is (Y/N). Like I said, I don't know if you'll believe me. But in about a day and a half, a demon is going to kill my family, and you exorcise it. And you take me in." I huff.

"Yeah you're right I don't believe you. Get the fuck out of my house." Bobby's eyebrows furrow as he gets angry. 

"N-No Bobby it's true! You're aware there's a demon in town aren't you?" I stutter.

"Of course I am! The same bastard killed my wife!" He yelled. Shit. 

His wife died less than two weeks before I was born. Bobby always had a hard time around my birthday, but he never made it a problem, always making sure to celebrate it with me anyway. 

"Bobby I...I know about Karen, you wouldn't tell me until I was a teenager. You told me that when you found me, you had to protect me from the demons, because you had failed to protect Karen from them." My voice almost comes out in a whisper, getting emotional. I gesture to myself, "and obviously you do a damn good job." Bobby stays silent, I can tell he's also a little emotional. 

I walk up to him, holding my hand out for him to shake, "my name is (Y/N) Singer. I'm your daughter."

~~~~~~~

Bobby sits in stunned silence after I explain everything. I told him about the demon, my parents, Sam and Dean. "So the demon, it comes after you tomorrow night?" 

I nod, "I'm not sure why yet." I lie. "I'm assuming that's why I'm here, twenty-two years in the past."

"How'd you get here?" 

"Hitched a ride from an angel." I look over some newspapers on Bobby's desk, several articles on demonic omens.

"Excuse me? An angel?" 

"Yep, angels are real. Blew my mind too." I glance up at him with a chuckle, deciding to leave out the part that I'm bound to one.

"So-uh, what do you need to know kid?" Bobby asks, seemingly still in shock about what's happening.

"I just- I was sent here to prevent my parents from getting killed. But if that happens, you wouldn't adopt me. I wouldn't meet Sam and Dean. I mean, because they died when I was so young I don't know if I want to lose you and the Winchesters." I sigh, taking a seat at Bobby's dining table as he slides a beer my way.

I open it and take a sip, Bobby sits across from me with his own beer, "That's a hell of a conflict, kid. If you were specifically brought here to save them, maybe you should. No one deserves to die that way."

I nod in understanding, looking down at the beer bottle in my hand. "But I won't ever meet you, or the boys."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I'll introduce myself to your folks, be a family friend." He tries to comfort weakly. 

"Better than nothing, I suppose."

~~~~~~~

That night, Bobby let me crash on his couch. I was thankful for a place to sleep that wasn't a stolen car. That night and into the next morning were uneventful, save for Bobby and I prepping to fight a demon. It's all a blur of holy water, salt, and weapons.

Once we were ready we went out to Bobby's car, saying he will scrap the stolen one for me after I'm transported back to my time. We loaded up the car and got in, heading back to my parents' house. 

By the time we were prepared, leaving Bobby's house and got to my parents' house, it was evening. We waited in the car outside their house for about 10 minutes before my mother got home from wherever she was. After she goes inside, we get out of the car. 

Coming up to the front door, we can hear yelling, making Bobby kick the door in. We quickly make our way up the stairs, hearing my dad yelling and my baby-self crying. I bust open my parents' bedroom door, my mother whips her head around to look at us, eyes black. My dad stands on the otherside of her, back against the wall. Baby-me is hysterically crying on the bed, knowing something is wrong. Mom's possessed and pissed. She quickly waves her wrist, sending Bobby flying back into the hallway. 

With another wrist wave I'm pulled towards her, her fist clutching the collar of my shirt, "Well, well, well. I didn't know Singers could time travel, still got that angel wrapped around your finger in the future?" She chuckles. The bedroom door slams, separating me from Bobby.

My hands grip her wrist as I fling my head forward. The top of my forehead collides with my mom's nose, making her let me go. I stumble back as my dad takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around my mother's neck, making her choke. I get my knife out of my pocket as she flicks her wrist again, sending it out of my hands and clattering to the floor. I could hear Bobby trying to break down the door, with little success. 

My mom breaks out of my dad's hold, sending him to the floor. I advance again, but instead she waves her hand again, pushing my parents' dresser. The piece of furniture pins me to the wall, I grunt trying to push it away. My mom picks up my knife with a sadistic grin, while my dad is on the floor, she stabs him in the stomach.

"No!" I scream, trying harder to push the dresser off of me, tears clouding my vision. I don't even know why, I hardly know these people, but he's my dad. My mom stabs him again...again...and again. Blood pools out of my dad's abdomen, his hand gripping the hilt of the blade while the other struggles to push her away in his weakened state.

Bobby finally bursts the door open, splashing holy water on my mother. She screeches at her skin burns, the sound fading out along with the sound of baby-me crying. 

~~~~~~~

I gasp and wake up in the motel bed, looking around frantically. Castiel stands at the foot of the bed as I sit up, holding a hand to my head. He looks sad almost, looking at the tear streaks on my cheeks.

A couple more tears fall as I speak up first, "I-I couldn't stop any of it. She still got possessed."

Castiel moves around the bed to sit in front of me, "Don't be too hard on yourself. You couldn't have stopped it."

"What?"

He reaches up slowly, gently wiping a stray tear off my cheek, "Destiny can't be changed, (Y/N). All roads lead to the same destination." He lets his hand drop back down.

"Then why'd you send me back?" I ask, my eyebrows crinkling.

"For the truth. Now you know why your mother got possessed." The angel looks down at his lap, as if he's ashamed that he put me in this situation.

I look around, seeing the bed next to mine completely undisturbed, meaning Sam never slept in it. I move my gaze to the floor seeing Dean is gone as well. "Where's Sam and Dean?"

"We know what Azazel did to Sam. What we don't know is why- what the endgame is. He went to great lengths to cover that up." 

"Okay- where's Sam and Dean?" I ask more insistently, not wanting to sound so dismissive but they wouldn't just leave me here like this.

"425 Waterman." Castiel says, "Dean took his car. I can fly you." He stands up, grabbing my jacket off the dining table nearby and handing it to me. I nod signaling that I'm ready. The angel puts his hand on my shoulder, I blink and next thing I know we are at the address.

Castiel turns, looking down at me with serious eyes, "Sam is headed down a dangerous road, (Y/N), and we're not sure where it leads. So stop it. Or we will."

(A/N): So I hope this chapter made sense with (Y/N)'s backstory and stuff. I already know when (Y/N) and Cas's first kiss is gonna be so hopefully I can throw in some cute moments up until then that aren't completely out of character for Castiel. If something doesn't make sense in this part please tell me so I can fix it.

Soulbound Taglist:

@fairy-alix @harryssatellitee

FERNANDO ALONSO                          one must fight.       (aka very important back shots)

The Stable Girl Masterlist

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: soft but hesitant!joel develops a crush on reader, the new horse trainer at the stables. he’s reluctant to believe that he deserves someone as good as you, but with everyone falling in love and finding happiness around him, he can’t help but start to feel hopeful too.

series rating: E (MINORS DNI)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four*

Chapter Five*

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

(all other chapters tba)

extras

tlou crash course for beginners

Make It Fun, Don't Trust Anyone- Erik Lehnsherr x Reader

“I can feel it.” He spoke, refusing to meet your eyes as he visibly failed to prevent his thoughts from spilling, “I could sense the metal as soon as we left the building; I could sense your necklace, the rims of your sunglasses, the iron in your blood, and that ring.”  His words turned to venom at the procurement of the final item, you watched as he grit his teeth; smoothing a hand over his head as his jaw clenched. Anger bloomed at the pits of your stomach in response, anger at his audacity to attempt to stake such ownership over you, “You were gone, Erik.” You spat, turning to him, anger blazing in your eyes; as reflected by the shock upon his face, “What? Did you expect me to wait around like a child? Wait for you to come back on the slim chance that it would happen?”

A/N: Hello! If anyone sees this, I hope you enjoy! If not, this is entirely self sufficing and I thoroughly enjoyed writing it. Just to note, sorry if the scenes taken from the movie seem a little..rushed? If there's one thing I do not enjoy it's working out how to incorporate existing scenes into canon compliant fanfiction. The struggle.

Word Count: 6,692 / Read it on AO3!

If you'd like to see more from me about Erik- please feel free to send in any requests! :)

The Cuban sunlight had acted as the perfect antithesis to your situation; the gaping hole that had formed and taken a residual spot within your ribcage as you knelt beside Charles, screaming and crying at the lack of feeling in his legs. 

But your eyes had not been upon him. 

You had stared up at Erik, stomach collapsing at his stoic gaze; only remnants of his grief were prevalent to yourself, the person that had known him most in the world. That wretched helmet had sat upon his head, his eyes empty with the melancholy of his own steadfast determination. 

“Join me.” He had whispered, his lower lip trembling as his eyes finally landed upon you; the first time since you had boarded the plane to Cuba. He had reached out then, his palm splayed towards you; hope swimming in his eyes as he beckoned you forward. 

You had simply shaken your head, lips tight and breaths heaving as you held his gaze. You watched as his heart broke, as his eyes glistened and bloodied hands trembled. You watched as he nodded and as he turned away from you. Turned away from the love that you had shared, choosing his own foolish endeavours of revenge over you. Allowing grief to swallow you, you had ducked your head; unable to watch as he walked away, unable to face Charles, writhing in the pain of your lovers’ actions. 

That had been it- you had returned to the school. Welcoming and accepting prospective students; working as an administrator and overseeing the school’s board. It had been good, amazing- supplying a necessary distraction to the heartbreak you had endured and a chance to improve your powers, learn from the experiences of others. There, in your reluctant state of happiness, you had met Adam. 

Adam, the school’s mutant psychology teacher; specialising in mind-based and largely telekinetic powers. Your curiosity regarding Erik’s powers had led you to him, sitting beside his desk; asking question after question. Questions soon turned into conversations and you soon found yourself being courted. All the traditional romances that had never crossed your mind when with Erik had become your reality; constant flowers, gifts, candle-lit dinners as your heels caressed his leg beneath the table. 

Your family had loved him, adored him. They had never met Erik, for obvious reasons, and whilst they were more supportive of your mutant gene than the average family; they had hoped that you would still be able to live the average life. Meaning, that you would acquire the average husband. Your family had practically demanded that you married him despite only being a year into the relationship, the pointed remarks about you being ‘unwedded at such an age’ a constant force at each gathering. 

So, you had. You had adorned the white dress, the large diamond ring, and Charles had granted his blessings by allowing you to host the wedding on the school’s grounds. Everyone and anyone that could have possibly been there had been in attendance, a day simply to forget about the wrongdoings of the past, the present and the future. 

On paper, everything was perfect. 

“Do you ever think about him?” Charles had asked, the night before your wedding, the two of you nursing a glass of scotch each within his office. 

You had exhaled through your nose, a lodge forming at the base of your throat, “No.” Despite the pronunciation of such a small, singular word; your voice had croaked, your chest trembling pathetically. 

Charles had simply nodded, his eyes flickering; his powers catching your obvious lie. “He’s in prison now, you know?” 

You nodded, humming affirmatively, your gut twisting at the reminder. 

“Are you sure you want to go through with tomorrow?” 

“I do.” You smirked, a failed attempt at humour as Charles had only looked back at you with sympathy, “I can’t sit here and say that Erik is never on my mind but… this is for the best.” 

Charles had only nodded, his face twisting as hair fell before his eyes, “He will never bother us again, I will make sure of that.” 

Whilst you had thanked him, smile wide and eyes crinkling as you both raised a glass; you couldn’t ignore the way your stomach had swooped in disappointment. The way your chest had heaved with unbridled pain, simply at the thought of never seeing Erik again. You would wrestle with it for the years to come- the guilt of constantly thinking of another man as you lay beside your husband. 

Your love with Erik had, to simply put it, been enigmatic; fuelled by passion- both by the mission at hand and the way you felt for each other. There had been awful, screaming fights on the worst days and entangled limbs with scratches lining his spine on the best. You had loved him with every ounce of your being, cared for him, yearned for him when he wasn’t there. Whilst you had endured the worst pains of your life with him, you had also been at your happiest. 

It had been toxic, ferocious, you had never known what would come next. 

You missed it every day. 

You passed the feeling off as pure delusion, your mutant gene playing cruel tricks on your mind as the years passed; as you grew bored. Bored of the same mundane life every day, bored of the simple forehead kisses, bored of that house. You and Adam remained within the dark confines of the manor instead of finding a place of your own following the fallout of the war in Vietnam; acting as support for Charles, who had steadfastly begun to dwindle in both his morality and his health. You had used this as an excuse every time Adam had attempted to introduce the necessary conversation of moving on, settling down. Children. You had deflected his attempts every time, claiming that you needed to be there for Charles, that you weren’t ready, that it wasn’t the right time. 

You knew for a fact that the reality lay within your inability to let Erik go, your inability to potentially miss the opportunity to catch a taste of his mere presence again. As the breadth of time since he left and the distance with Adam widened, you thought of Erik more and more. His serrating blue eyes and wicked charm haunted every moment, both awake and unconscious. You yearned for him, worried for him, hated him. You hated him for giving you up so easily, your lack of support in that specific moment signifying the end of everything, defining the status of the rest of your life. Sometimes, during the darkest of nights, the ones where you felt so alone, the nights where the wind howled and the trees drew vines and branches upon the walls- you imagined what it would have been like to join him, to have clasped his hand against yours and allowed him to lead you into the darkness.

Secretly, you knew that following Magneto would have led to your early demise, sometimes you pondered on whether that could have been a better end to your time together than your reality. 

But then, as Spring turned into Summer; as the grounds of the manour flourished in their unkempt state and the sun cast illuminations through the large windows- Logan arrived at your doorstep. A mission from the future, unbelievable if not for the pure conviction in his eyes. Unbelievable if not for the grief that haunted his strong features. 

You had been completely unprepared when Logan had stood from the chair you had offered him, yourself having been perched on the edge of Charles’ crumpled couch; your legs crossed and hands clasped with worry as he had detailed the horrors he had experienced, the horrors that he was there to prevent. He had paced the length of the table, surveying each resident of the room; you hadn’t missed the way his eyes had flickered between you and Adam; his forehead scrunching before his brows raised in amusement. 

“Ah…he warned me about this.” He grinned, flicking a finger between the two of you and scratching at the base of his head. “Kinda weird to see actually.” 

“Sorry?” You smiled politely, head swarmed with confusion, you looked over at Adam only to see he bore a similar expression, “He?” 

“We need to find Magneto,” Logan spoke determinedly, his gaze fierce, his voice taking a tone of finality. He was serious, conviction overtaking the air as the gravity of the situation dawned upon each resident.  

You knew that he was right. 

In that moment, you had been able to do nothing but stand and promptly leave the room; abandon the sound of Charles’ manic laughter that followed Logan’s words, Hank’s doubt that tended to suffocate a room. But most notably, you were abandoning your so-called husband’s silence.  

Somehow, you found yourself curled beneath your bed covers, arms crossed over your knees like a small child; your form shrunken in your fear and heartbreak and doubt, tremors racking your shoulders. As you attempted to steady your breathing, a knock sounded at your bedroom door. Expecting it to be Adam, you promptly rose from your position; scrubbing furiously at your swollen eyelids. 

But to your shock, Logan entered the room. 

“I’m sorry to barge in like this,” He held his hands out placantingly, slowly approaching you as if you were a timid animal, “I know you don’t know me, but I know you, Y/N, very well and… I wanted to check you were okay.” 

You nodded, crossing your arms and biting your lip as you mulled over the words he had spoken since his arrival, “It’s okay… I just- haven’t heard his name outside of my own head in a while.” 

“Erik?” 

You smiled, your heart blooming at his real name, the name you had known him by, “Yes… I’m assuming you know about us; I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve witnessed one of our messes for yourself,” He had smiled at that, his teeth glinting as he chuffed in amusement, though you could only stare at Logan, building the courage to ask what you desperately wanted to know, “When, you know, you were sent here… was Erik there?” 

“Yes.” Logan nodded. 

“Was I?” 

Logan nodded once again, though opted to do so silently this time. 

“What did he tell you about us?” 

Logan laughed properly then, a smile finally breaking across his face, “He told me not to meddle, that your situation is especially… sensitive, at this point.” He scratched a hand across his chin, his expression filled with nothing but pure mirth as he spoke, “Which I can see, seeing as though he’s locked one hundred feet underground and you’re married.” He finished that with a pointed look at your ring finger. 

You nodded, that you found yourself unable to match his amusement, unsure of exactly what it was he found funny, “I haven’t seen him in almost ten years.” You shrugged, “When I try to think about it, I don’t even know what he looks like anymore.” 

“But you still think about him?” 

You sighed, lowering your gaze to pick at the loose threads upon your old bed sheets; you had always been reluctant to get rid of them, the memories that they held with Erik remained too precious. Slowly and timidly, you spoke, “Every day.” 

Logan could only nod, an exhale sounding from his nose, “Well, if I can trust anything from my time knowing you; it’s your ability to give that man hell.” 

So, the following day; with an overly-energised, overly-excited teenage mutant in tow; Hank, Charles, and Logan had embarked en route for the Pentagon.

“Stay safe.” Adam had spoken as he leaned against the entrance to the house, having opted to stay behind; claiming that the house needed to be watched despite Logan being the first visitor in years. You had simply smiled at him, waving goodbye before turning towards the car; you didn’t miss the way the door had immediately slammed, Adam having chosen to waste no time in ensuring your safe departure. He had been quiet since Logan’s arrival, especially since the mention of Erik’s name and your obvious upset in response. 

You feared that despite his promise to protect the house, he would not be there upon your return. 

“I can’t believe you even married that guy.” Logan had mumbled, chuckling to himself and shaking his head as he slid into the car’s driver's seat; you could only manage a meager glare- your doubt regarding Adam had been clear even to yourself. 

Whilst the others performed the monumental task of attempting to free Erik; you had been tasked with organising the transport from the Pentagon and away, far away. You knew that Charles had orchestrated this purposefully, giving you the chance to see Erik as little as possible if necessary. You had accepted without a fight, you feared that if faced with Erik in a dire situation; you would act impulsively, irrationally. You feared that if faced with Erik, you would be able to do nothing but throw yourself into his arms. 

“Not appropriate.” You had mumbled to yourself at the thought, tapping a hand against the car’s wheel; dark aviators high upon your nose as you awaited. Your other hand hung from the drivers-side window, a dwindling cigarette balancing lazily between your fingers; it had been a nasty habit you had picked up in your adulthood, largely to Adam’s chagrin who had banned you from doing so indoors. You began to recognise that the stress of marriage had aged you significantly; the existence of service had overtaken your life in a way you hadn’t predicted. 

Just as you had begun to dwell upon your own disappointing life decisions; a loud bustle of noise exploded from the doors exiting the building’s kitchen; you only had a second to rescue your cigarette and balance it between your teeth before the group rushed to the car. Peter immediately sped ahead and claimed the passenger seat, grinning at you cheekily as he slid beside you; though this was quickly diminished when Logan slammed the car door back open, promptly gathering the teenager by the lapels of his jacket and ejecting him from the seat. You could only guffaw as he promptly plucked the cigarette from between your teeth, taking a hasty drag as the rest of the group piled into the back. 

You refused to glance at the rear mirror.

“Seriously Y/N?” Charles huffed exasperatedly from what you could assume was the seat directly behind you, the rustling of his jacket prevalent as he attempted to get comfortable in the tight squeeze of seats, “This may be a getaway car but it doesn’t mean you can abuse it to your will with your smoking.” 

You gritted your teeth, slamming your foot upon the pedal and pulling out onto the road; en route to the airport. Erik’s presence behind you plagued your mind, causing your fingers to tighten upon the wheel and your toes to curl within your shoes, every hair upon your neck stood ramrock straight as you waited, yearning for him to acknowledge you. 

This was what you had dreamed of, every night for years, and now you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him. 

A gleam caught your eyes as you drove, suddenly all too aware of your left hand rested on the steering wheel. Your wedding ring still adorned upon your finger, glistening obnoxiously in the afternoon sun. Risking a glance, you rose your eyes to the rearview mirror- only to immediately flick your eyes back to the road before you. 

There, in the middle seat, sat Erik- his cheeks sunken, hollow; the effects of years in confinement were prevalent in his every feature. His skin was pale, almost ghastly; his haircut was shaggy, uncaring. But what shocked you the most, what made you pull your eyes away from the man you loved so suddenly- was the way his eyes, those hauntingly blue eyes, stared straight at you, straight at the ring upon your finger. You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from squeaking in response, the taste of blood plaguing your mouth as you willed yourself to focus on the road, focus on the mission at hand. 

You knew that Logan had witnessed every moment of that encounter, his dark eyes sunk into the side of your face as you determinedly stared forward, refusing to acknowledge any of the people around you. Alongside the stench of smoke, the air in the car was thick with tension- the aura of unspoken words choking every passenger. Even Peter, the usual chatterbox and the one who had spoken your ears off the entire way to the Pentagon had opted to stay silent; instead staring out of the window, his lips twisted in his own display of tension. 

As you drove in silence, you became all too aware of Erik’s presence; you found yourself pinpointing his specific breaths, the crinkle of his prisoner-assigned uniform, the shuffle of his legs against the side of your seat, the nervous tap of his finger against his knuckles. 

It was a miracle you managed to reach the airport. 

Upon saying goodbye to Peter, you determinedly pushed past the front-row seats of the private jet, opting to sit at the very rear of the plane alongside Logan, of which had simply raised an eyebrow and sighed as you lowered yourself before him, “You two are more pathetic than I expected.” He exhibited an air of nonchalance as he lit his cigar, despite the plane now very much being in the sky, and propped open a newspaper upon his lap- though it was prevalent that he found delight in watching the entire situation unfold. 

You raised your eyebrows, shrugging your shoulders stubbornly and sliding back against the base of the chair, “There’s no ‘us two’,” To which you complimented with the use of air quotes, “I am married, Logan.” 

Logan could only laugh at that, shaking his head, a habit he seemed to have picked up in his exasperation at what was unfolding before him, “You do realise I’m from the future right?” 

Scowling, you crossed your arms and opted to sulk at the back of the plane; still determinedly refusing to look Erik’s way- who was now engaging in a heated argument with Charles.

“Do I at least age well?” 

“Of course,” Logan smirked, holding his cigar up in a toast; though he was quickly interrupted by the creaking of metal as the foundations of the plane shook; Erik. Logan jumped forward and immediately threw the two of you to the ground- acting as a human shield as the plane began to tip sideways; Erik’s passion overtaking all rational thought as plates and glassware shattered beside you. 

“You abandoned us all.” He spoke with finality, Charles lay splayed across multiple seats, his hair a tangled mess as he gaped at Erik. You could only pull yourself back into your seat as Charles left for the cockpit, both you and Logan gasping at each other as you attempted to regain your stolen breath.

“So,” Logan grunted, fetching a new cigar and lighting it, “You were always an asshole then.” 

You could only scoff as Erik turned, facing you for the first time since boarding the plane; you noted the way his eyes landed upon anything, anywhere but you. 

“I bet we’re best buds in the future,” Erik smirked sardonically, his voice rough with the sudden severity of his outburst. 

Logan hummed, puffing on his cigar before offering you a puff, to which you politely declined, “Not like me and your old friend Y/N here are.” 

At the mention of your name, his hands spasmed at his sides; his fingers convulsing in a bodily reaction at the mere recognition of your existence. You would have felt excitement, love; if it weren’t for the way his eyes told a different story- cold and piercing as they landed upon you, his cheekbones twitching as he allowed himself a second of eye contact before he abruptly turned, returning to his seat across the plane. 

“Jesus,” Logan mumbled to himself, reclining in his seat and widening his eyes at you; you could only nod. Jesus.

With Erik and Charles opting to keep to themselves, the rest of the journey went swimmingly- immediately upon landing you wasted no time in departing from the suffocating air of the cabin; luxuriating in the deep breaths of fresh, evening air that greeted you. 

“We need to find somewhere to rest.” Charles spoke from behind you, “The drive to the next spot is too long and we’re all exhausted.” He glared pointedly at Erik then, who simply sighed; as you allowed yourself a glance at him, it was prevalent that he too was plagued by fatigue. His cheeks were more sunken than before, his eyes drooping as he visibly struggled to hold himself up. You yearned to reach out, place a hand on his spine and simply hold him, aid him as he wrestled with the weight of the world upon his back. But then, as his eyes turned towards yours, the weight of the wedding ring upon your finger prevailed once again; you could only turn away. 

Hank managed to find a group of last minute rooms at a nearby motel, though as he returned to the reception's waiting area, keys in hand, his nerves were ever-prevalent. “I only managed to get three rooms; two have two beds and another has one, I was thinking-” 

“I’m taking the solo room,” Logan ordered, snatching the key from Hank’s hand and sauntering down the hallway, though not without sending a wink over his shoulder at you. Bastard. 

“Oh-” Hank froze, the other keys dangling from his fingers- you could only watch as he winced, practically praying for you to forgive him with his eyes, “Charles, I doubt it would be safe for you to be with Erik, so I guess…” 

You could only sigh, electing every ounce of confidence you could embody before standing, cutting Hank off once again before retrieving a key from his hand, without turning you spoke, “Well, come on then, Erik.” 

You felt his presence behind you, each of you electing to say nothing as you unlocked the haggard wooden door; its hinges creaking as you pushed open the door. Before you stood two double beds, an only-just-comfortable distance between the two. Nodding to yourself, you entered the room, your fingers twirling the keys nervously as you surveyed the room; you felt the air thicken as the door slammed behind you- you felt like prey finally being cornered by the predator. 

Erik cleared his throat behind you, the sound thick and grating, “I’ll take the bed beside the door; would you like to use the bathroom first?” 

You turned towards him, shocked by his kindness; he could only stare back at you, his eyes heavy-lidded and exhaustion tinting his features. “I- Sure.” You could only croak, opting to briskly enter the bathroom; afraid of irrationality taking over your lovesick mind. Reaching behind the shower’s curtain, you turned on the water before stripping off your clothes, the sound of your ring clattering against the sink as you placed it down caused you to flinch, knowing that Erik would be all too aware of your every move from the other side of the door. 

You took your time in the shower, breathing in the warm steam and collecting yourself after the events of the day, collecting yourself in preparation for the events of the night that was to come. You could do this, even if it meant a sleepless night whilst Erik lay only feet away; whilst the object of all of your nightmares lay only feet away. It reminded you of a night, a night a long time ago; in a motel room just like the one you were in, his skin against yours; his breath hot against the base of your throat as he had slowly stripped you of your clothes, as he had kissed every inch of you. It reminded you of his pants as he pushed into you, his groans as he buried his sweat-coated forehead into the skin of your shoulder, biting and licking and sucking there as you became one. The way that he had moaned his love for you into the skin there, your responsive moans loud and uncaring as you had clawed at the skin of his back, gripped at the hair upon the base of his head- 

Stop; you shut off the hot water, stumbling from the shower as you panted, your cheeks and chest red with warmth as you desperately attempted to remove the memory from your mind. Gripping the porcelain of the sink, you eyed your pathetic reflection; willing, begging, yourself to let this go, let your silly daydreams go. This was reality, your reality. Getting through the night was the only necessity you needed to accomplish, then you could avoid Erik and promptly never see him again. 

You could go back to your husband, back to your life. 

Undeniably however, you couldn’t ignore the way Erik made you feel, the way his mere presence made you feel. Adam’s influence upon you paled entirely in comparison, your obligation to return to him simply one of duty, one to appease your family, one to live the ‘perfect’ life- be the perfect wife. But you craved more, you craved better; for years you had chased and yearned for the way Erik’s slightest touch had made you feel- the way that his love encompassed every molecule of your being; the way that he had branded you for life, rendered unable to ever feel the way you had felt with him again. Your thoughts of Erik made you all too aware of how long you had spent in the bathroom.

How long you had spent, very obviously, avoiding him. 

You emerged from the bathroom in nothing but the oversized shirt you had packed hastily to sleep in; swiping it from the bed due to the short notice you had received in regards to this trip. You felt bare, naked suddenly as you left the bathroom to Erik’s piercing gaze. He sat, fully clothed, lounging against the headrest; allowing a pen to swirl around his fingers, dancing from pointer to thumb as his wrist spun. Entrapped, you could only stand there and stare; stare at the beauty of his powers, at the beauty of him. 

“It feels good,” He spoke slowly, carefully, allowing the pen to drop onto the sheets beside him, “To use my powers again; to feel metal.” 

You nodded, smiling politely, unsure of exactly what to say in response. You opted to stay silent, allowing yourself to walk past him and into your own bed, the crinkle of the duvet loud in the silent room, loud within the silence that was swelling between you. 

“You aren’t wearing it,” Erik spoke suddenly, his voice slicing through the silence; to your shock. Once you recovered, you simply crooked an eyebrow at him, to which he spoke; swallowing his words audibly, “Your ring.” 

“Oh,” You shook your head, staring down at your empty finger, remembering that you had placed it on the sink, “I usually-” 

“I can feel it.” He spoke, refusing to meet your eyes as he failed to prevent his thoughts from spilling, “I could sense the metal as soon as we left the building; I could sense your necklace, the rims of your sunglasses, the iron in your blood, and that ring.” 

His words turned to venom at the procurement of the final item, you watched as he grit his teeth; smoothing a hand over his head as his jaw clenched. Anger bloomed at the pits of your stomach in response, anger at his audacity to attempt to stake such ownership over you, “You were gone, Erik.” You spat, turning to him, anger blazing in your eyes; as reflected by the shock upon his face, “What? Did you expect me to wait around like a child? Wait for you to come back on the slim chance that it would happen?” 

Slowly, at the pit of his lungs, he formed a laugh; his head shaking as his fingers trembled once again, “You think so lowly of me, Darling.” 

“You left me!” You were yelling now, rising from the tangled bed sheets as your chest heaved with anger, heaved with the heartbreak and sadness that had plagued you for the consequent years following his departure, “You left me.” 

“I gave you a choice, Y/N. You chose Charles, you were more than welcome to come with me.” 

You shook your head, scoffing, “Well… if I had gone with you; I would be dead by now.” Your tone held a sense of finality, as supported by your return to the bed as you promptly turned your back to him, curling up under the duvet and refusing to face his reaction to your words. His response followed in the slam of the bathroom door as he promptly left the room; leaving behind the stale air of your own regret. 

It felt like hours as you waited, wondered; hoped for him to come back. Hoped for the two of you to forget the words that had been said, to sleep comfortably in your separate beds and complete this mission as peacefully as possible; to go your separate ways and live your separate lives once again. 

In the depths of these daunting thoughts, you fell asleep; the exhaustion of the day’s tensions taking hold as your eyes slipped closed. You woke, hours later, to the moon’s rays spanning throughout the room; a ghostly glow hanging in the air as you rubbed at your eyes, glancing to your side, Erik was fast asleep; his sharp edges and soft hair illuminated in the scant light- you allowed yourself a moment, just that moment, to take him in. Drink in the features you hadn’t faced in almost a decade, the features you longed to reach out towards; to trail a finger down his jaw or scratch a nail upon his hair. His hair was wavy, a slightly damp smell filtered throughout the room told you that he too had taken the opportunity to shower. 

The thought of his broad shoulders and lean back illuminated by the spray of hot water did nothing to help the swarm of doubt swirling within your gut. Shaking your head, you reached into the bag beside your bed; fetching the box of cigarettes stashed within one of the inner pockets. 

Then, barefoot and in just a shirt, you shouldered open the room’s door, balancing a cigarette upon your lip as you did so before promptly lighting it, traversing the motel’s corridors silently before reaching the fire escape. Hoisting yourself upwards, you climbed up the ladders before finally reaching the building’s roof. The night was clear, quiet; the only sounds emerging from the distant highway and subsequent traffic- you listened out for any signs of disruption as you lowered yourself to the roof, allowing your legs to dangle from the side of the building. 

The silence of the night and the goosebumps prickling at your bare arms allowed the tears to emerge; it allowed them to pour down your cheeks, for snot to bubble at your nose and for your lips to tremble with unkempt sobs. You allowed for your hurt to take hold, for your hurt at Erik’s words and actions and simple presence to take hold. But then you allowed your hurt towards yourself to unfold; for allowing yourself to end up here, in this situation- living this life that you had manufactured for yourself. 

You couldn’t go back to that motel room, but most notably you couldn’t go back home. You couldn’t bear it anymore; the stresses of being within that barron manor were becoming too much to bear. If you couldn’t be with Erik, then you would rather be alone; somewhere far away, far away from here. You stewed upon this thought for a long time, as you lit your second, third and fourth cigarettes; it prevailed. 

Just as your fourth cigarette began to dwindle, the slam of a door sounded below you before hasty, alert footsteps lined the hallway. You rose, walking back towards the highest entrance of the fire exit before looking down; listening as the hurried steps continued, haggard breaths accompanying it. Opting to investigate, you lowered yourself onto the platform below before descending the stairs; entering the residential hallway of the hotel. There, at the end of the corridor stood Erik, the obvious source of the worried footsteps as his chest heaved; he was turning in place, visibly searching for something as he rushed down the hallway. 

“What-” You mumbled, slowly walking towards him as he had not yet spotted you. Finally, you decided to catch his attention; concerned as to whether there was some form of danger, “Erik?” You called, a hand shielding your eyes as you peered down the dark hallway. You watched as he froze at the sound of your words, his head snapping towards you as he drank in your presence, your appearance. 

“What the fuck-” He breathed, immediately shaking off his shock and advancing towards you, practically running as he reached you. Entirely unannounced, he swept you up into his arms; shaking as he lowered his head to your shoulder, practically breathing you in as he tightened his hold by the second. 

“Erik, what-” 

“What is your problem?” He pulled back almost as soon as it had begun, his breathing staggered as a blush covered his cheeks; he wore only the black tank top and sweatpants he had been asleep in, his hair a mess upon his head; as if he had just jumped from his bed, “I woke up and- and you were gone, your bed sheets were practically stale with how long you’ve been gone I-” 

“I’m fine.” You assured, catching his hands between your own as an attempt to calm him down; the worry he had been feeling now prevalent within the staggering of his chest and the blush at his cheeks, “I just went to have a smoke I- let’s get you back to the room.”

He nodded, his glassy eyes immediately beginning to droop as he allowed you to use your grasp on his hand to pull him down the hallway. Upon depositing him into his own bed, as you left to enter your own, a tight grip latched upon your wrist; you turned, only to be met with those blue eyes swarming with desperation, “Stay?”

You sighed, nodding reluctantly before crawling in beside him; allowing him to drape an arm over your waist, allowing him to rest his head upon yours. Before your departure, before the decision would be set; you could allow yourself this one thing, this one night of unplagued sleep as his comfort would ward away the nightmares that tended to tinge your nights. 

But, before you could fall asleep; Erik’s voice rumbled above you, “I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You could only shrug, pressing your nose to his chest as you listened to his heartbeat, “Me too, Erik.” 

He moved backwards then, settling so that his face lay directly before yours; the tip of his nose rubbing against yours with each second breath. It seemed that he could only muster a whisper as he continued to speak, “You have nothing to be sorry for.” His eyes grew wet as he spoke, his head shaking slightly as he smiled sadly. 

“Erik.” You whispered, your voice soft with contempt as you raised a hand to his cheek; brushing away the tears that had begun to fall there. Feeling him swallow against your wrist, you could only watch as his eyes flickered downwards, just as your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip. Before you could register, he had moved; his lips pressed to yours as your cheeks grew wet with his steadily falling tears. Your mind allowed nothing else but to kiss back, to shift your leg upwards and to caress his cheek with your thumb. He kissed you earnestly, slowly; as if approaching a terrified fawn, testing the waters as to what you would allow him. You could practically taste the desperation perspiring his tongue, as you assumed he could yours. You would take anything, trade any parts of your wretched souls if it meant that you could feel this forever; feel the warmth of his tongue sliding against yours for every waking moment that remained. 

Erik pulled back then, only to lower himself; his mouth hot and needy against your throat, his hands trailing patterns against the skin of your stomach; becoming exposed as your shirt had rode upwards. His ministrations rendered you only able to lay there and pant; to bask in the feeling of being needed, wanted. Truly, ferociously. 

As he began to paint a trail of kisses down your stomach, something changed; something shifted in his demeanour. His hands, beginning to pull your thighs upward, were shaking and whilst his lips were forming kisses, they were forming words too. As you raised yourself to rest against your elbows, you finally heard the words forming within his mouth, “Please don’t go back to him.” He was whispering, pairing the almost unspoken words with a gentle kiss to the nearest area of skin; he was crying again, his eyes glistening with fresh, unshed tears as he burrowed his face into your skin. It seemed as if he was afraid to let you go, practically burrowing himself into your being, with the hopes that you would stay. 

“Erik, Erik wait-” You spoke urgently, lowering your hand to his chin before pushing him away; he stared up at you through his glassy eyes; his hair ruffled and cheeks rosy. Confusion graced his features at first, though he soon registered the concern in your eyes and realisation visibly dawned upon him. 

He removed himself from you then, moving to sit at the end of the bed; the duvet splayed around his waist as he sat with his legs crossed. He seemed to take a moment to compose himself, wiping at his mouth and running a finger over his teary eyes, “I’m sorry Y/N, I- it’s not my place to tell you what to do.” 

Instantly, you crawled towards him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and settling yourself into the space between his legs; you felt his cheeks crinkle as you pressed kiss after kiss to his face, but you could still sense his confusion, his doubt. “I knew I would be leaving him the moment Logan mentioned your name, whether you were coming with me or not.” You stroked his hair as you spoke, caressing your fingers through the thin tendrils of oaky brown hair that adorned your lover's head. Erik grinned then; his teeth shining as he practically mooned up at you, he kissed you again then; pulling you in and deeper into his lap. 

Before you could push him onto his back, before you could lower yourself upon him and mobilise the groans that would fall from his mouth; he abruptly straightened up, untwining his hand from beneath your shirt and raising it in the air- your wedding ring flew towards the two of you, hanging in the air before Erik made a flicking motion with his fingers; you could only gape as the ring flew through the open window and into the darkness of the night. 

“Erik!” You squealed, hitting at his chest as he laughed loudly, unabashedly. Despite being secretly pleased, you couldn’t allow him to know that. “That was expensive!” 

“I can find you better,” Erik grumbled against your chest, burrowing his head into your shirt and inhaling unashamedly, “That one wasn’t you anyway, I almost couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw that ghastly thing on your finger.” 

The only response you could have mustered in that moment was to shove him back against the bed; silencing him with the warmth of your own mouth.

I love this!! Like r u kidding me😭😭

𝐊𝐀𝐙 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐊𝐊𝐄𝐑 | 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗍

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | kaz brekker x fem!ravkan!healer!reader.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | cursing, also don’t google what schat means if u want the full experience i’ll have it explained in the fic <3

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | after learning y/n does not speak kerch, kaz gives her a nickname in his native language that makes her want to pull her hair out - without ever knowing its real meaning. 

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | schat is the only dutch nickname someone can call me without seeing me cringe, i will not change my mind, ever. like, ‘liefje??’ or ‘mop??’ or ‘schatje??’ ATROCIOUS. 

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2.4k.

Czytaj dalej

Frustration Leads To Confessions. (x.t)

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Best Friend!Reader

Summary: maybe all you needed was a little help to make xavier realize his feelings for you or when both of you are jealous and it leads to more

Warnings: jealous reader and xavier, fluff, two frustrated people who are absolute idiots for each other. UNEDITED

a/n: i present to you guys a full fic for our boy, xavier:) apparently, i like the word idiot a lot...

masterlist

Your best friend, Xavier had a weird newfound interest in the new girl, Wednesday Addams. It seemed like that was all he could talk about. Wednesday this, Wednesday that, a matter of fact you were really getting over it. Even during class or during lunch all he would do is look out for her, even if that meant ignoring you in the process.

You slipped away to your room for lunch after class not even bothering to walk with him to the quad. Whether you would admit it out loud or not you liked your best friend maybe a little more than you should. Though you couldn’t help it, now with his long hair that suited his face perfectly or the smirk he would put on when he was teasing. Maybe you were being hopeful when you thought he might out liked you back.

It sucks that the dance was so close too. You wanted him to ask you, but with Wednesday in the picture, you doubt he would. Which leaves you without a date for the dance. You had even talked to Ms. Thornhill about going off the theme a bit to go for more of a periwinkle dress instead of white which she was all in for.

Once you made it to your next class which was unfortunely botany class with Xavier, you made it a point to sit in a different seat than your usual spot next to him. The only other spot open was next to a boy that you remembered whose a werewolf named is Dylan. You made your way over to the spot next to him and set your stuff down while avoiding Xavier’s piercing stare at you.

The lesson was boring and basically filled with Bianca and Wednesday competing with each other. You had ten more minutes of the class before the bell would ring. Ms. Thornhill said since it was so close to the dance, she wouldn’t torture you guys with any more homework.

“Hey,” you heard from beside you. “Y/n, right?”

“Yeah, and yours is Dylan if my memory is correct,” you replied with a small laugh which caught Xavier’s attention.

“Something going on with you and your boyfriend? Who’s giving me quite the death stare this entire period?” he questioned as he noticed the other’s glare at him. “Who knows maybe I’ll be six feet under by the time this class ends,” he joked.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you muttered feeling your cheeks flush with heat at the thought.

“Does he know that?”

“Yes, and I don’t think he would care, all he’s been talking about is Addams over there beside him,” you claimed.

“So he wouldn’t mind if I did this?” he stuck out his arm to your seat pulling you closer to him. You yelped as you didn’t expect him to be able to pull you and the chair with just one arm. “Wait, nope, I definitely think he does mind actually.”

You could tell that your cheeks were bright red right now without having to look in a mirror. Not only were you blushing at the fact Dylan thought Xavier was your boyfriend, but also about how close you were to Dylan right now. You were staring at your hands but looked up, and saw Xavier who was gripping his pencil so tightly that his knuckles were white and with a clenched jaw.

“What are you trying to do?” you asked him as you turned your gaze from Xavier to him.

“Trying to be a good matchmaker.”

“There’s nothing to match,” you scoffed.

“Y/n, you got yourself all wrong there. That boy is so jealous right now, it’s hilarious,” he corrected you.

“Dylan, there’s-” the bell ringing cut you off.

“I’m going to whisper into your ear and all you have to do is giggle okay,” all you did was nod confused as Dylan helped you stand up from your chair and leaned in close to your face but moved in the last second to whisper in your ear. “I hope you get dicked down after this by him,”

You started to choke on the air uncontrollably at the disbelief of his words as you felt heat rush into your cheeks again.

“Dylan! You did not just say that!” you gasped.

“I did, and he coming over this way right now,” Dylan started to rush to get his stuff. “I’m going to go before he punches me, good luck!” he wished you as he rushed out the door.

“What was that?” Xavier questioned harshly as he came closer to you.

“What-” you couldn’t even finish your sentence before he started pulling you into the hall and dragged you all the way into his dorm room. “Xavier, slow down.”

“So you have a new boyfriend and you don’t even tell me about it,” he snapped at you as he shut his door behind him.

“What are you even talking about?” you asked him placing your stuff down on his chair by his desk. That’s when you noticed his sketchbook was open, and it was a drawing of you. Though you didn’t feel like this was quite the right time to mention it, as you turned your attention back to the seething boy.

“You ignore me before lunch and then show up our next class to not even sit in your seat and sat next to wolf boy out of nowhere,” Xavier deadpanned. “That entire class period was filled with him being all over you.” It was now your turn to get angry at the boy as you were shocked at his hypocrisy.

“You’re joking right now, right?” you asked in pure disbelief.

“No, I am not. He was literally all over you and you just stayed there giggling at everything he said,” he scoffed.

“You know what, Xavier, I don’t even know why you care when all you’ve been talking about is Wednesday Addams,” you snapped back at him. “It always about her with you lately, sorry for not wanting to listen to you for one class period.”

“Y/n, don’t be like that,” he softened.

“No. You can’t dragged me to your room and antagonized me about something you don’t even know the full story too.”

“Why would I need a full story when I watched with my own eyes?” he pointed out.

“Dylan wasn’t doing anything!” you exclaimed.

“Really, so he wasn't flirting with you the entire time?” he commented.

“No!”

“Y/n, you really are more oblivious than I realized.”

“Xavier, you’re being ridiculous right now,” you stated. “All he was doing was literally pointing out the fact that you were so obviously jealous.”

“How could I not be?” he remarked. “All I could hear was you laughing with him, and don’t even get me started on how close you two were.”

“That was the point, Xavier,” you said exasperated as you head over to his bed and laid down on it feeling so over this argument with him.

“What?” he questioned confused.

“Dylan, thought we were dating and when I told him we aren’t, he was basically like then watch this,” you said muffled into his pillow.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Me? You’re the idiot,” you countered.

“Be my idiot,” he blurted which caused you to lift your head from his pillow as you sat up on his bed.

“I’ve been yours this entire time, you idiot,” you laughed as he came closer to sit on the bed. “Maybe if you actually paid some attention to me you would’ve noticed sooner,” you admitted bitterly as you thought about him talking about Wednesday this past week.

“Wait what?”

“Xavier, you vex me to no end,” you told him as you leaned closer to his face. “Maybe that’s why I fell so hard for you.”

“You make me go mad,” Xavier closed the space between you two as he placed a hand on your cheek pulling you to meet his lips.

It was as if you could feel the pent up emotion Xavier was putting into the kiss.You smiled into the kiss wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands moved to your hips. You moved forward slightly to lean more into him and he let out a groan against your mouth. He stilled in the kiss, keeping your hips in place from moving further. You both pulled away to catch your breath.

“What does this mean for us?” you questioned softly looking into his eyes.

“I think this means you're mine officially,” he smirked.

“I think you have to ask a certain question though,” you joked.

“You’re really going to make me ask,” he laughed throwing his head back.

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Will you, Y/n, be my girlfriend and go to the Rave’N Dance with me,” he asked you raising his hand to tuck a piece of loose hair that fell onto your face.

“Of course, I will,” you smiled back. “You know if I knew all it took was being close to some guy for you to finally ask me out, I would’ve done it sooner. Maybe again, with all this pent up frustration,” you joked letting out a giggle.

“NO! No more guys. EVER!” he said pushing you down on the bed to give you another kiss. "I mean it."

this scene got me feeling like a victorian man seeing an ankle 😔😔😔

(i need him to whimper in my ear like a needy bitch)