Can i request blade, sampo and feixiao (separately) with a cat-hybrid gn reader? (Its just catgirl but make it gn lol) thank uu ^^
Back to the kitty, 'cause they're kinda pretty
Tags: Blade x Reader, Feixiao x Reader, Sampo x Reader, Cat-Hybrid Reader, Fluff, Mild Teasing, Lighthearted Interactions, Sparring (Feixiao), Banter (Sampo), Hints of Angst (Blade), Comfort.
The Stellaron Hunter’s base was eerily quiet as you padded through the dimly lit halls, your tail swaying behind you. Blade had summoned you for a mission, though he hadn’t provided any details. You found him in his room, sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed, as if meditating.
“Could you knock next time?” he muttered without opening his eyes.
“I did.” you replied, crossing your arms and flicking an ear. He opened his eyes, one eyebrow arched in amusement.
“Did you now? I didn’t hear a thing.”
You rolled your eyes and sat next to him. “So, what’s the mission?”
“There’s no mission.” His gaze softened ever so slightly. “I called you here… because I wanted to talk.”
Your ears perked up, curiosity winning over. Blade wasn’t exactly one for casual conversation. “About?”
“I was wondering,” he started, his gaze flickering to the tips of your ears, “how you manage to find calm so easily. You seem… at peace, while I struggle to find it.”
You smiled, stretching out and curling your tail around yourself. “It’s easier when you stop fighting yourself. I accept my instincts, even if they’re different.” You flicked his bandaged hand playfully. “Maybe you should do the same. There’s a balance you haven’t found yet.”
His eyes narrowed, yet he didn’t pull his hand back. “Balance, huh? Maybe one day…” He trailed off, but the look in his eyes told you that perhaps, for the first time, he was willing to try.
The Xianzhou Yaoqing’s training grounds were empty, save for the rustle of your tail as you crouched, preparing for a sparring match with Feixiao. She stood across from you, her hands on her hips, a smirk playing on her lips.
“Think you can keep up with a General, kitty?” she teased, flicking her fox ears.
You narrowed your eyes, playful determination sparking in your gaze. “Only one way to find out, General.”
The sparring session started with a rush of speed. Feixiao was fast—faster than anyone you’d trained with—but your natural agility as a cat hybrid gave you an edge. Dodging her strikes, you twirled around her, even managing a quick swipe at her coat.
“Impressive!” she laughed, sounding genuinely delighted. “Didn’t think you had it in you.” She moved with ferocity, her eyes focused entirely on you.
You felt a sense of pride bubbling up as you narrowly avoided another strike, purring softly despite the intensity of the match. In one daring move, you swerved and managed to knock her slightly off-balance. She chuckled as she stumbled, finally calling a truce.
“Not bad. If we weren’t sparring, I’d be considering you for the Cloud Knights,” she said, offering a hand to pull you up. “Though next time, don’t hold back.”
Your grin widened. “Only if you promise not to either, General.”
It was a quiet night in Belobog’s Underworld when you found yourself wandering into Sampo’s hideout. You’d just slipped in silently when he called out, “Is that my favorite cat?” His voice held a teasing lilt, and he looked up with a wide grin.
“How did you know I was here?” you asked, tail flicking in surprise.
“Please, I always know when there’s a silent visitor,” he laughed, stepping closer with that ever-charming smirk. “Besides, you practically smell of curiosity.”
You rolled your eyes. “Or maybe you just can’t resist sneaking up on everyone.”
He chuckled, reaching out to scratch behind your ear. To your surprise, it actually felt… nice. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting out a soft purr.
“See? I’ve got the magic touch,” he said, clearly delighted. You playfully swatted his hand away, and he pretended to look hurt. “Alright, alright, no need to claw me.”
His voice dropped, taking on a softer tone as he met your eyes. “Hey, thanks for stopping by, though. It's been a while since I’ve had good company that wasn’t trying to rob me or arrest me.”
A warmth filled you at his words, and you smirked, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. “Guess even Sampo Koski has his soft spots.”
“Only for the right company,” he replied, giving you a wink that made your ears twitch as your heart skipped a beat.
I got to thinking about Remus experiencing a full moon and coming back home to Harry sleeping on his bed for comfort. Then I thought about adding Severus into the mix, and then next thing you know I’m writing an almost 1000 word drabble.
Anyways, context: happens in 6th year, Harry was a lot closer to Sirius and Remus. Sirius lives past 5th year, but Remus ends up breaking up with him because of various arguments. Remus ends up dating Severus instead. Just the barest hint of future Severitus.
“Severus?” Remus whispered into the dark room.
If he was a man less used to the constant bubbling of shame and embarrassment, he would have blushed brightly at his own appearance. His hair could only be described as an abstract nest, his chest, bare, was covered in an assortment of scratches and bruises, and there was just a hint of scruff already growing on his face. He was always such a mess after full moons, and this one was no different.
He could just barely recognize the man’s silhouette in the doorway. His scent was the only clue needed to give him away. On any other night he would have forced himself to sit up and respond, but as it was, Harry had decided to use him as a pillow as soon as he got back.
His pup had not been sleeping well lately and he refused to disturb his rest if he could help it.
Unfortunately, Harry hadn’t seemed to get that memo as he hummed a soft questioning noise.
“Hm?”
Remus shushed him.
“Lupin,” Snape practically snarled, “Black is passed out on the kitchen floor.”
The werewolf sighed.
“I’m aware, he got drunk again,” he gently petted Harry’s hair, “He couldn’t join me for tonight’s moon.”
Harry leaned into the touch, opening his eyes just a sliver to see the potions Professor.
“…Snape?” He mumbled.
Snape grimaced awkwardly, still standing in the doorway.
“His behavior is becoming,” Severus paused as though searching for an appropriate word, “concerning to say the least.”
The other man huffed at that humorlessly.
“Any life threatening injuries that need immediate attention?” He continued.
“Nope, just the usual horrible chest, back, body, everywhere, pain,” he cracked his neck looking back up at him, “oh and a sprained ankle.”
The man hummed in response, quickly moving to his bedside while pulling out potions from his heavy cloak pocket.
“Is there a reason for Mr. Potter's presence?” he slathered bruise balm over the worst of Remus’s bruises on his bare chest, being careful not to disturb the boy at his side.
At his name, Harry seemed to twitch.
“Harry’s apparently been in my bed all night,” the words were spoken softly, “the stress has been getting to him I think.”
“Pads was knocked out, I was alone and tired,” the aforementioned boy mumbled back into Remus’s arm, “I didn’t want you to be as well after a full moon.”
A gentle, quiet sort of smile graced the werewolf’s face.
“Thank you pup.”
Severus raised a brow at the small exchange.
“Charming,” he muttered.
He took out a different potion from his pocket. This one was blue and just a tad bit thicker in viscosity. Had Harry been a little more cognizant of his surroundings, he likely would have commented on the professor using Murtlap essence.
Severus gently massaged it into the scratches on Lupin’s arms and back. He took note of how deep they were in comparison to the previous moon.
With a mischievous smirk Remus quipped, “Would you like to join our spontaneous sleep over?”
He looked the man up and down, focusing on the slight trembling of his hands and the dark circles under his eyes.
“You look like you could use the sleep,” he softened considerably, “Did he use the cruciatus curse?”
“Lupin,” Severus spat in a scandalized manner.
Remus just raised a brow back.
“What? It’s not like Harry is unaware of your position, nor is he unaware of our,” he blushes, “relationship.”
Harry grumbled beside him.
“Even so,” Severus fumbled his words, “I highly doubt Mr. Potter would be okay sleeping in the same bed with me, whether you act as a buffer or not.”
The bewildered look in response to that was almost comical.
“Harry,” Remus twisted his head to look at the boy tucked beside him again, “would you mind if Severus slept with us tonight?”
Harry didn’t even look up, just raised his hand in a thumbs up.
Severus’s eyes narrowed but he sighed in acceptance.
“Fine,” he took out one final potion from his pocket, “drink, for the sprained ankle.”
“And about the sleepover?” Remus asked before downing the potion with a grimace.
“If it is truly fine with Mr. Potter,” the spy chanced a glance at the practically sleeping boy, “then I shall stay for the night, yes.”
He took off his cloak and shoes, lifting the blanket beside Lupin to squeeze in awkwardly beside him. The three of them shuffled together, moving and grumbling until each of them had a decent amount of space spread between them.
The faintest hint of light could be seen from under the black out curtains. It was early morning and not one of them had a decent night's rest. Still, it took them far too long to sleep.
“I had not expected Mr. Potter to be so okay with our arrangement,” Severus whispered besides Lupin.
Remus hummed, “Harry’s usually quite good at this kind of thing, he adapts quickly at the very least.”
“He was not upset at you and Black’s separation?” He questioned, “He must have at least had some judgment upon learning that I was your next choice.”
He stifled some laughter, “When I discussed the topic with him he joked that I had a type.”
He turned to look at Severus, “As though you and Sirius are that similar.”
Severus scanned the man to see if he was pulling his leg.
“Truly?” he huffed with a roll of his eyes, “Quite the nerve of that boy. As though we are anything alike.”
The two ignored Harry as he seemed to get an onset attack of the giggles. The sleep deprivation must be making him delusional. It must be making everyone in this house delusional.
CW : Not proofread, mentions of injuries and questionable work ethics
The gentle dab of the cotton wool sent a shock of stinging followed by a wave of aching through the cut on his back. Edward's expression contorted with a grimace; eyebrows knitting together as his eyes squeezed shut. He sucked in a hiss of air through that gaps in his teeth, opening his eyes into narrow slits, turning his head slightly to watch their careful work.
They were always so gentle; their hands had those feather light touches as their eyes scanned over his injuries — even with a bruise, they were eager to have a look, eager to inspect and eager to soothe. Edward didn't like it when people touched him, it was often unwelcomed and an alien sensation, making him feel itchy or unreasonably angry — even their fragile caresses had started off with such a begruding reception, but now Edward found a pleasant sort of peace with it.
The cotton fluff was soon pulled away, their fingers gently dancing over the pale skin around the bloody gash. They drew soothing circles around the injury, an almost silent apology to the stinging that the disinfectant had inflicted. If it wasn't for the small flutter that their affection had caused Edward, he might have chuckled — apologising for healing him.
They'd always been so gentle with him, even if they weren't always so intimate with him. Treating him like a human instead of some sort of caged animal, like all of the other staff at Arkham had.
Edward hated Arkham — he hated the fact that the staff sat him down and observed him like some sort of human puzzle. As if he was missing pieces. He hated how they not only caged him phsycially, but also his mind with constant medications. Medications that did nothing but slow him down. But he would always grin and bear it — after all, he would just remind himself that Arkham was a mere maze for him to crack, and that the staff had to use extra measures to actually try and make it a challenge for him.
Though, he hated Lylon Bolton the most — the cruel manchild of a security guard. He would often get drunk on power and abuse it, along with the patients. Edward seemed to be a frequent target since he "liked to talk back". After all, that was how conversations worked. Regardless, Edward saw the brute force unnecessary most of the time — merely correcting someone with a light hint of condensation shouldn't result in a busted lip and a black eye.
But, that was how the funny farm ran — most of the staff were intolerant, incompetent or plain iniquitous. Even Dr Quinzel had her questionable moments. Of course she did — that's how she ended up on the other side of the glass.
That was something else that irked him. Everything was so invasive. All because one was labelled "unstable" or "ill" — which Edward was far from, clearly — they were put on display, locked away behind that small glass pane, with nothing but three walls and their thoughts. Edward wasn't even allowed stationary after Bolton had cried wolf — claiming that Edward had stabbed him with a pen. But that was the only difference between them and the patients, to Edward. The side of the glass in which they stood. Of course, some of his peers were genuinely ill to some extent, though that did not mean that he was as well.
That was probably one of the reasons that he felt so comfortable around them. He wasn't a patient in an asylum, when he was often sent to their little office for upsetting Bolton, he was merely a patient with injuries to put a plaster on. It wasn't much better, but it made him feel human, instead of some sort of exhibition.
“Alright, all we need now, is a band-aid.” The nurse had announced, a chirp of pride to their sickenly sweet tone. They walked over to a set of drawers, leaving Edward to silently continue to scribble down the answers to the newspaper's crossword. It was rather refreshing to finally see one again, to allow his brain to satisfy that itch of thinking, even if he'd been banned from having pens and paper and the works.
He ignored them. He wasn't interested in them; they were a nobody, probably forcing such a nurturing personality to save themselves during another lockdown. It was pathetic, relying on pity to survive. So, he wouldn't entertain it.
The drawer closed, slowly this time. It was something he took note of, but didn't necessarily take care to acknowledge. Though, their words did drag him away from the rows and columns he was working on filling out. “Do you want a green one?”
The question seemed inoccent enough, but Edward knew better. He looked up from the puzzle and to the nurse, eyes narrowing in a sort of bitter distaste. “What, so you can have 'evidence' of my 'obsessive personality' in hopes of getting a smidgen of validation from your supposed superiors?" He bit back, raising one of his hands to use air quotes.
A little dumbfounded by the reaction they'd recieved, the nurse merely stayed stood there and holding the wrap of dark green fabric. Their smile hadn't faltered, but instead looked a little more awkward, now. "...No?" They slowly responded, holding the roll of wrap up, as if showing it to Edward. "You like green, so I thought you might like a green one." They explained, clearly awaiting his reaction.
The redhead seemed to huff a little, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he looked back to the newspaper. His cheeks heated up, feeling the embarrassment of making such the accusation. Though, of course he tried to brush it off nonchalantly. "...It seems to be an acceptable idea." He mumbled, almost pouting.
Edward was snapped out of his thoughts at the feeling of their soft lips against his damaged skin, pressing a nurturing kiss around the injury, before the warm feeling was replaced with the sensation of a needle and thread. He quickly turned away to look at his shirt, the damaged clothing laid in his lap, like a dying creature — the tear in the back was dyed with his blood, the dark purple now had a noticeably darker patch near the fraying area. Though the action wasn't to inspect the damage — he had already seen it, and his suit jacket. No, he just couldn't let them see the blush on his cheeks. It was a sign of weakness, of vulnerability—
He winced again at the feeling of the sharp metal piercing his skin, the hiss of pain catching their attention this time. "I could try and fix your shirt, if you wanted me to?" They asked, voice still soft as they gently pulled the needle all the way through the small puncture they'd created — the thread following suit with more ease.
Edward had to bite his tongue. As much as he wanted to protest, tell them that he could always have Query or Echo make an appointment with his tailor if he found himself too busy to do so, he couldn't. A part of him wanted them to, despite the odd feeling that it created. His stomach almost felt like it cramped at the idea of them doing more for him? It was an odd feeling, something he wasn't quite used to.
Perhaps it was just nervous excitement to see them more. To have a reason to. Because, showing up unannounced to their apartment — without a reason other than he enjoyed their prescene — was a weakness. And the Riddler didn't have any of those.
thank you so much for the support on the previous part of my Loki bf headcanons!! I didn't expect at all to be that liked. Here is the second part of my headcanons.
wanings: it may be a little sad :((
Be certain he will travel the multiverse if something happened to you. He doesn't want another close person of his to be hurt, or even worst, dead. He's had enough of it.
He's a decent cook! Since Mobius has kids, he'll probably teach Loki how to cook, so he can surprise you with great homemade waffles!
Spoiler: he cooked them very well, but he almost burnt the kitchen...
Are you cold? No problem. As the gentleman he is, he'll place his brown coat on your shoulders. "Better, little one?" *smiles*
He will probably break some TVA rules and take you out on dates in different realities. Your most recent one was in a 80's disco, situated in New York.
Loki gives the most reassuring hugs someone could ask for. Marvel probably forgot he is a Frost Giant, so his body is technically cold; but, to you, they're the warmest hugs in the world. His arms will cling you to his chest, nuzzling his nose into your hair. Leaving little kisses all over your scalp.
Both of you share emerald green rings that have in the inner part of them an engraved phrase: "Sun is shining on us for the enternity".
After he made the decision to sacrifice himself and become the God of Stories, he had to leave you. Not because he wanted it, he had to. It's different. Don't worry. He's watching over you, in every universe, making sure you are living the life you deserve. Leaving you was the hardest decision he has made in his life.
Yet, he'll always cherish those heartful moments in his heart.
This takes place during Schlatt’s first days of University (in America you have to take 4 years of Uni, and then 3 years of Law School).
Schlatt does Mock Trial in University, which is where a lot of these scenes take place.
.
Tubbo once drew on Schlatt’s beard when he was two (just coloring it like green, and blue), which was fine, he’s 2, he does shit like this, and Schlatt was really tired, so he let him. However, Schlatt did not realize that it was sharpie, so when he had Mock Trial in the morning, he had to go, with his beard colored in.
It wasn’t an actual trial, it was just a meeting with his team, but still it was incredibly embarrassing and the professor was not happy with it.
The professor started with, “Face tattoos are not allowed in the courtroom sir, it is very unprofessional, and it will jeopardize your case.”
The thing is, is that college Schlatt would definitely be more timid than you would expect him to be, because he is so fucking tired, and trying to figure out this whole, single-dad-at-university thing, So, he would just be like, "Sorry Sir, won't happen again."
Then the professor would ask him why he did it: "Mr. Schlatt, you are going to have to explain to me why you have sharpie on your face, in the first place."
Schlatt looks down, "My uh, my 2 year old drew it on my face yesterday. I didn't know it was sharpie."
Schlatt can't see it, but the professor's face softens, "It's alright Schlatt, just don't let it happen again, or I will have to put you on probation."
"Yes Professor, sorry again"
Tubbo goes to do it again, cause he is 2 and he doesn't know and better, and Schlatt having to explain.
"You can't do that Tubs, here, you can draw on my arm."
"Why no face?"
"Dadda got in trouble last time Bud, he promised it wouldn't happen again."
"You get in trouble this time?"
"No, the arm will be fine Tubs. Just no more face, okay?"
"Okay."
.
The first time Schlatt brought Tubbo into college was during a mock trial session. It was a Saturday, and Phil was home, so Wilbur couldn't watch Tubbo. He showed up, dress shirt slightly crumpled, hair ruffled, and a 2-year-old Tubbo on his hip.
The professor looked him with wide eyes. "And who is this, Mr. Schlatt?"
Schlatt put his head down, "My son. The guy who usually watches him during Mock can't today, and I know how you feel about missing meetings, it's just -" Schlatt gave Tubbo a stern look before meeting his professor's eyes, "He will be quiet I promise. Just let him sit in the back, he's almost 3, he knows when to stay quiet and play with his toys."
The professor looks at him with sympathy, "This one time Mr. Schlatt. Warn me beforehand next time, so that I can give you a smaller script, okay?"
Schlatt looks up with a grin, "Yes, professor." Before setting Tubbo down at the back of the room, and getting him set up with some coring books, and B.
.
Tubbo helps Schlatt study court cases, and rules.
I can just imagine Schlatt at the dinner table while Tubbo is eating, being like, "You want to help Dad real quick, Bud?"
And Tubbo profusely nodding. Then, Schlatt explaining some court cases, and rules he has to know, so that he is prepared for the test the next day (you know how you can test your own knowledge by teaching others), even if Tubbo doesn't understand it, it gets all of Schlatt’s thoughts out on the table, and helps him organize his thoughts.
[it also maybe distracts Tubbo from the fact that Schlatt wasn't eating dinner ahaha whoops, back to fluff]
.
Schlatt and Wilbur made each-other friendship bracelets in Middle School, because they were nerds lol (and then they smoked weed at a party in high school, and suddenly weren’t nerds anymore. It was very funny, they were tripping over themselves hard).
Schlatt and Wilbur still wear them to this day. Schlatt wears his around his wrist, and Wilbur wears his around his ankle.
Tubbo likes to grab onto the bracelet and fidgeting with it. Sometimes when he is overstimulated, or stressed, he tugs on it to get his Dad to notice. Other times, his wrist is small enough that he just shoves his hand through the space in between the bracelet and Schlatt’s wrist. It helps ground him, being tethered to Schlatt. And sometimes it’s just so that he doesn’t get lost lmao.
30. “I’m never going to leave you again. I promise.”
-
Eryn woke in a sweat, her blood chilling as the night wind whipping against the glass frames of the balcony doors. Thick darkness swarmed the bed chambers, with only a few glimmer of orange-gold slashing across the high ceiling with weak groping fingers from the dying embers within the stone hearth.
A shrill of ice crawled up her spine, shivers biting at her skin; the brittle cold breath of the Frostbacks seemed to have crawled their way through the enchanted warmed stones of Skyhold, stealing the air from her lungs. In her ears ranged the skin-cutting bite of a storm’s wind, carrying the cries of death and the roar of fire and ash. She could still see the outline of amber burning the underbelly of black clouds a molten scarlet, with spears and swords and great axes of flame, cutting Haven down until it was charred ash and melted stone. Than the winter stole its light for the last time, and she could still feel the shake in her bed. It could had stolen more than just Haven...
Eryn jumped as she felt an arm wrapped around her waist; and had it not been for the scent of vanilla and lilacs, Eryn would had groped for her knife and stuck it into the person’s side. But the scent stayed her hand, calmed her rapid heart, melted the frost in her bones. Without her knowing, she leaned back against the woman, curving so she could fit snug in her hold. Alexandra’s chin rested on her short black hair. “You’re shivering,” whispered Alexandra, arms tightening around her waist. Warmth pummeled through Eryn’s limbs, and she could see the still darkness grow gray with slivers of gold from Alexandra’s magic. She could not keep the sigh content from leaving her lips.
“I’m fine. Just cold.” She shifted a little, trying to move both away and still be close to Alexandra. Having her arms wrapped around her felt too good for Eryn. Alexandra deserved better, yet she gave her everything and more. And what could Eryn give in return? She was broken, a woman half-dead and half-alive. She could not even protect her at Haven. Tears welled in her eyes.
Eryn was slowly turned around, warm hand with slender fingers brushing escaped tears from her cheek. “You’re crying.” Despite the thickness of sleep in her voice, Alexandra’s eyes were awake, shining in the gray-black darkness with emerald eyes burning with a golden flame, like dawn peaking from across a grass-studded hill. Alertness and concern poured from that stare, and all Eryn wanted to do was kiss her, and be held by her. Maker, she was close to.
Clearing her throat, fighting the threatening shakiness that sought to escape. Somehow, she kept it more clear and stable than she expected. “Just a dream.”
“What was it about?” There was no room for sly-stepping. Her voice was tilted with that of Inquisitor Trevelyan. To lie to her now or hide the truth would like going into a viper’s nest and expecting not to be bitten.
Eryn swallowed and glanced down at Alexandra’s pale neck. It did look quite cozy to slid into... But she kept herself as further away as possible, but not too far that she would fall off the bed. The distinct murmur of cold still grasped at her heart, tearing it with harsh frozen slashes. The screams still culled her blood, even as it dwindled away at the sight of Alex’s eyes. “Haven.”
The word lingered in the still air like thick smoke, and Eryn could see the darkening of Alexandra’s eyes at the name. “Oh...you thought of me dying, didn’t you?”
Cursing to herself, she nodded. “There were a few more deaths...but you were the primary focus, yeah.” Swallowing the air took as much effort as swallowing a rock. She wet her lips and tore her gaze away from Alexandra’s stare. Her eyes squeezed shut. Still, the heat of Alexandra’s stare was still upon her.
Suddenly, she was pressed against something warm and soft, with that sweet scent of vanilla and lilacs. Eryn’s eyes opened to find her stare at pale skin, glimmering faintly from the glow of spun magic. “I’m never going to leave you. I promise,” whispered Alexandra in her hair, her fingers stroking locks, playing with it every once and a while. “Not even when the sun burns out and the moons are swallowed by darkness will I ever leave you, Eryn.”
And for the first time in a long while, Eryn Cousland wept.
He hated late night visits to the bathroom. Marvin was barely conscious enough to make it, and the burst of light as he flicked the switch had him slapping a hand to his face in an attempt to block it out.
He never should have downed three glasses of water right before going to sleep. Honestly, if there was anything Marvin regretted most in his life, it was this. Luckily, it wouldn’t take him that long to complete his business. He could go right back to bed and stay asleep.
He was drying his hands when he heard a door creek open. Marvin’s first thought was that someone else had the same issue, but when he didn’t hear footsteps, or even a knock on the bathroom door, he frowned.
Marvin was starting to wake up a little more now, paranoia getting the best of him. Shutting off the light, he opened the door and peered out. At this point, his eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness, so he could see that Jackie’s door was open. Why?
“Jackie?” Marvin whispered, moving closer. “Are you okay?” It was probably nothing. It had to be nothing. Marvin was just being paranoid, right? His hand fell on the hand to push the door open even more when Jackie finally appeared in the door frame.
Jackie was wearing only a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, but he was slipping his mask on over his eyes while also trying to shove his way past Marvin, who stuck an arm out to block the superhero from going anywhere.
“Whoa, hey, where are you going?” Marvin asked, letting himself relax. “You’re not in your uniform.”
“Forget it,” Jackie mumbled. “I gotta.”
“....you gotta what?” Marvin asked. The relieved smile faded as he studied Jackie’s face. His eyes were open, but he wasn’t really looking at Marvin. He was looking off to the side....with glazed eyes.
Oh.
Ooohhh.
“I gotta go,” Jackie continued. “It’s important.” He again tried to shove his way past Marvin, but the magician just grabbed at the door frame to hold himself in place. “....please.” His voice took on a softer, more pathetic tone as he finally made eye contact with Marvin. “They won’t stop calling.”
“You need to go back to bed,” Marvin said firmly. His other hand cautiously came up, carefully taking the mask off Jackie’s face. “They’ll be okay without you.”
“No, they won’t!” Jackie gripped Marvin’s wrist. “It’s always something! This time it’s.....” he trailed off, blinking slowly as the lack of mask finally registered. “It’s....”
“It’s time for you to go back to bed.” Marvin pulled his hand away, glad that Jackie was still asleep and didn’t have much strength to him now. “Come on.” He grabbed Jackie’s shoulders and turned him around, guiding him back to his bed, then gently pushed him down. “There,” Marvin said, fighting back the urge to laugh. “This is all you need right now.”
“Mmm-hmmm,” Jackie mumbled, curling up in a ball. Marvin sighed as he pulled the blanket up over Jackie, trusting that he’d actually stay put this time. When Jackie didn’t move or speak anymore, having fallen back to deep, slow breathing, Marvin left to go back to his own room.
He had never seen Jackie sleepwalk before, and Marvin wasn’t even sure if it would happen again. Still, he knew he was going to hang this over Jackie’s head for a long, long time.
Summary: Dean has a dream come true with the Reader and it’s so perfect, he doesn’t know whether or not he can believe it.
Word Count: 2,505
Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam
Warnings: None. It’s got hints of angst, but it’s mostly fluff. SFW.
Author’s Note: This was written for my 2k Celebration, and was a request by @wildfirewinchester with the song “So Close” by Jon McLaughlin (the one from the slow dance scene in Disney’s Enchanted) the lyrics are found throughout this fic in italics. Definitely listen to the song before or during the fic! Dialogue prompt was “Sweetheart, I’ve loved you for forever.” Thanks for the request, and I hope you all enjoy this! This was written from Dean’s POV.
The Masterpost for my 2k Celebration writings can be found under the Celebration Writings section at the bottom of my MASTERLIST which has links to all of my fics.
“Oh, come on, Dean. One dance. It won’t kill you. Promise.” Y/N was pleading, something Dean had never seen her do before.
It was oddly endearing.
“You sure about that?” He raised an eyebrow, taking a swallow from his beer bottle while Sam eyed the action at the pool tables.
Y/N rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm, tugging him out on the floor. The sound of pool cues smacking billiard balls was in the background, and liquid being poured into bottles, small talk being traded at the bar—but on the dance floor, that tiny 12-by-12 space, there was only the sound of the slow music that she had forced the jukebox to play, playing on for only the two of you.
Dean chuckled, twirling his friend and fellow hunter in a small spin before pulling her into his arms and rocking back and forth. Dancing had never really been his strong suit, but with her in his arms, he felt comfortable. Like all the world was gone.
Y/N had always been his safe place.
But when she put her head on his chest, her breasts pressed against his abs as she snuggled against him, Dean felt something shift inside him. He pulled her tighter on instinct, bending his neck slightly to press a small kiss to her temple, breathing in her scent, the smell of her shampoo.
And the dance went on, the two of you so close, together.
Then she leaned her head back slowly, her lips curved in a smile that Dean had never seen before—slow, inviting, soft, and romantic. Her eyes were locked on his, and it felt so natural to lean towards her.
He tried to stop himself. She was his friend. His fellow hunter. So what if she had been his secret crush for years—Dean knew he didn’t have a chance with her, could never make her happy. And how could he face the faceless days, if he should lose her now?
But that moment, the two of them so close, the way she was looking up at him….
Dean couldn’t help himself. His hand sank into her hair, guiding her head back as he brought his own down, his lips meeting hers softly, tenderly.
She didn’t push him away or slap him. She smiled, her hands around his neck pulling him to her as she welcomed his kiss, as she kissed him back passionately.
Dean broke off in surprise, leaning back to look down at Y/N.
“What? Dean, what’s wrong?” She was worried about him? Where was the surprise?
“Y/N... I... you’re okay with this?”
Her smile was even more confused, “why wouldn’t I be, you doofus? Dean, are you okay?”
He stared for a minute, then started rocking her back and forth in his arms, continuing the dance while his thoughts were busy.
He’d dreamed about Y/N, wanted to be with her for ages, but he’d never made a move. She hunted with Sam and him, and she was damn good at the job, but he knew she deserved better than he could give her. Dean would never leave the life, or Sam; it just wasn’t in him. And what kind of life was this if he were really involved with a girl.
But she seemed so perfectly comfortable in his arms, dancing with him in this nowhere bar, kissing him back like it was meant to be. It was everything—All Dean wanted was to hold her so close. If she was actually okay with this, with him…could he have that famous happy end? Here she was, beside him, and look how far the two of you had come….
The song was slowing down, and Dean willed himself to believe that this wasn’t a dream. Y/N led the way back to their table, where Sam was returning after apparently winning some money at a pool game.
“Dean, you okay? You look like someone just smacked you in the face.” Dean looked at his brother, confused again. Why wasn’t he surprised that Y/N was holding his hand?
“Yeah, I think something is up with him, Sam. Maybe we should go?”
Y/N took some of Sam’s money to pay their tab and Dean pulled Sam around so their backs were toward her for a second.
“Dude, I kissed Y/N. Out on the floor—I know, it was stupid, but she kissed me back! Then she acted weird, like this was normal or something. What the hell--?”
“Uh, Dean? Why wouldn’t it be normal for you to kiss your girlfriend?” Sam was looking at him like he’d lost his mind, and Dean honestly felt like maybe he was. Girlfriend? Since when?
“Maybe we should get you out of here. Did you hit your head on the last case or something?” Sam clapped his shoulder and guided him towards the exit as Y/N joined them. Dean walked, still in a daze, out to his Baby.
“No chance, man. Not when you’re this loopy. I’m driving.” Dean handed over the keys without any argument, then let Y/N pull him into the back seat while Sam looked increasingly worried.
“I feel fine, guys. There’s no need to look like I’m about to start screaming about pudding or something.” Y/N rolled her eyes again and shut the door behind him, walking around the car to get inside beside him.
She took his hand in between hers, sitting sideways to face him, and Dean worked on lowering his heartrate.
“Okay, now spill. Why are you so tense right now?” Y/N was the same no-nonsense person he’d known for years; direct, straightforward, and strong… but she was holding his hand too, and her thumbs were casually caressing his skin.
Dean looked away from the distracting sight only to find Sam’s piercing eyes in the rearview mirror. “Y/N, inside, he acted like the two of you weren’t together, said he was surprised you were kissing him.” Thanks brother, for ratting me out.
“That’s ridiculous. Dean, we’ve been together for months. You know that, right?” Y/N’s voice was confident, and Sam didn’t express any surprise.
“Uh…”
And now Y/N was looking at him, chewing on her bottom lip in a way that forced him to remember how intoxicating the taste of her lips were. Except her brow was furrowed in concern and he was getting tired of everyone looking at him like that.
“Okay, so do you have amnesia or something? What town are we in? What was the last case we worked?” Her voice was steady, but Dean knew her well enough to see the fear in her, and God, he hated it. Especially since he was the one causing it, unintentionally or not.
“I don’t know, some backwater in Iowa, right? We had a case in Des Moines, a haunting. And before that it was, uh, a zombie deal in Duluth, Minnesota.” Y/N nodded, and Dean breathed a bit in relaxation.
Sam spoke up from the front seat as he pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, “so, it’s not amnesia. At least not the regular kind. It’s just about Y/N. What do you remember about her?”
Dean tried to avoid blushing, because the memory first on his mind was a fantasy spawned on the dance floor when she had pressed up against him. “Come on, Sam, this is ridiculous. Of course, I know Y/N. We found her hunting a shifter in Michigan two years ago and she’s been hunting with us for years. Outside of you and Cass, she’s the closest thing we have to family,” Dean felt her squeeze his hand, but he pressed on, “she’s my best friend. Which is why you guys insisting we’re dating is so weird.” These romantic dreams must die, because Dean knew they weren’t real. There was no way this could be real.
Dean felt her let go of his hand and immediately wished he’d kept his mouth shut. When he saw her eyes, how hurt she looked, he cursed himself for an idiot.
The three of you got out of the car but didn’t go anywhere, leaning against the trunk. Y/N seemed hurt, and wouldn’t make eye contact; Sam seemed awkward and stood a foot away, looking at the two of you, and Dean…Dean tried to figure out what to do here.
“I’m not crazy, you guys. But if you’re right… if Y/N and I….” She looked up at him and Dean couldn’t help wishing with every fiber of his being that it could be true, “if we’re really together, then something is wrong—a spell or something, because I honestly can’t remember that.”
“Hey,” Y/N pulled Dean into her arms, holding him tightly again. “We’ll figure it out, okay, Dean? We will.”
And Dean knew at that moment, that all that he wanted was to hold you so close from then on.
“Dean! Dean, wake up! C’mon, you doofus! You are not leaving me like this!” Dean shook his head with a moan, groggy, confused.
Y/N was calling him, slapping his cheek to get a reaction.
“Yes, that’s it. Come back to me. Sam! It’s working!”
Dean was lying on the floor, cold cement from what it felt like. Y/N was kneeling over him, and then Sam was there too, holding a silver knife covered in blood.
It took him a moment before he connected the dots. Djinn. It must have been a djinn dream. They hadn’t even been hunting a damn djinn, what the hell?
“That’s it, Dean, come on. You here? Sam and I have been tearing this town apart looking for you. You went out to get gas for the car and then didn’t turn up. You’ve been gone for two days, scaring the shit out of me. What do you remember?”
It was so strange, her asking that after the dream. It felt like a knife in the gut, because the memory of holding her, kissing her…it had been so real, he’d almost been believing the whole thing was not pretend.
But it had been. A wonderful dream that Dean now had to bid goodbye. Time to get back to reality.
“Bastard must have jumped me. Djinn, right? You get it?” Sam nodded and Dean held up his hands, “help me up.”
The two of them pulled Dean to his feet where he struggled to catch his breath. Damn poison.
Y/N quickly wrapped his arm around her shoulders, her own around his waist and helped support him. “I’ve got him, Sam. I’ll take him out to the car. Look around for any more victims or djinn, would you?”
Sam waited to get a nod from Dean that he was okay, then walked off behind him.
Dean actually wasn’t that okay. Y/N was in his arms again, and God, it was worse than before. To have the possibility of her being with him so far away after being so close…. Now he knew what it felt like to have her return his feelings, to not have his feelings be a secret.
She helped him outside, and the fresh air helped immensely, the feel of the sun on the back of his neck, the gentle breeze in his face. Y/N took him to the back of his car, and he stood there, wrapped up in his memories, fake as they were, beside the trunk. In a move that seemed achingly familiar to him, but was probably a surprise to her, he pulled her around and into his arms, hugging her tightly.
Y/N squeezed back for a moment, probably glad to have found him alive, but Dean could feel the tenseness, the surprise in her body. He took one last moment to breath in her scent, burying his nose in her hair, memorizing the feel of her against him for when he had to let her go.
“Dean… are you okay? What happened to you?”
He leaned back and found her eyes pleading with him again, and it was even more endearing this time. He wanted her, as the djinn’s deepest-wish-granting hallucination had proved, more than anything. He just wanted her.
His voice was rough, but he had to answer her. “I’m fine. Really, Y/N. It’s just… being in a djinn dream state—getting out of it plays with your head for a day or two. I’ll be fine.”
Dean shook his head and went to back up out of her arms, realizing that he was probably making his friend uncomfortable.
But he couldn’t back away. She was pulling him back to her, nestling her head into his chest and holding him tight.
“Y/N?”
She spoke into his chest, “when I saw you lying on the floor—after you had been taken and missing, I thought…” He felt her shaking a bit when he wound his arms around her, so he held her tighter, trying to give her whatever strength he had to offer.
“And I just kept thinking that if you died, what was I going to do? And then you were there, bleeding and pale and—“
“Hey, hey, Y/N, I’m okay. I’m right here—“
And Dean didn’t even think, he just pulled back and kissed her. Because it was what he needed, what he wanted more than anything at that moment. He pulled her close and his lips found hers, and though there were tears forming in her eyes, and the grip on his shirt in her clenched fist was more about misplaced grief than passion, he didn’t stop himself.
But she did.
She pushed him away, “Dean, what—why are you--?”
Dean started apologizing immediately, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just couldn’t stop myself. After that dream and then you were right there, and…shit, I’m sorry—“
Her hands flat on his chest from where had pushed him, gripped his shirt and pulled him down again. “Shut up, Dean.”
He shut up.
She kissed him, and it was so much better than the djinn dream, the feel of her lips, the taste of her on his tongue. This was the real Y/N. This is what he craved, what he had really wanted, wished for, for so very long.
When she finally broke the kiss, Dean couldn’t decide if he wanted to yell in excitement or pull her back for more. He got distracted by the look in her eyes though, serious but happy all at the same time. So different from the tears of a few moments ago that he felt like his head was whirling, or maybe that could have been from the kiss too.
“It’s about damn time, Winchester. You know I’m crazy about you, right?”
Dean honestly had no control over the smile that stretched across his face as he pulled her back into his arms and reached for that famous happy end.
“I never knew. Sweetheart, I’ve loved you for forever.” Dean kissed her again, his heart thrumming, his emotions high, the feel of Y/N all he needed to keep him happy for forever, just holding her so close.
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