Yummy Jellybeans

Yummy jellybeans 🍬

Genshin College AU: Part 4

Author's Note: This is my depiction on what I think Genshin characters would be like in present day college.

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🔥 Xiangling:

Xangling is one of the most talented cooks in the whole school. With only being a sophomore, the uprising chef already has a high reputation in the food industry. She’s a great influence within the Home Ec room, giving many tips on how to give recipes that Boom shaka-laka feeling.

She is very free-spirited with her time, usually finding inspiration within her friend group. Hu Tao’s quirky personality, along with Xingqiu’s mischievous nature, gives Xangling enough motivation to play around with her creativity. Surprisingly, the level headed Chongyun likes her cooking! Though, he needs a slightly different version of her spontaneous recipes due to his low heat-resistant pallet…

However, as great of a chef as the sophomore is, she sometimes runs into duds. One time, she was sponsoring a new sample that she was testing, and everyone in the cafeteria was more than excited to call dibs in trying the famous Xangling’s cooking. However, a bit too much Jueyan Chili was used in the small batch, and everyone had to be sent home because of stomach issues…

Xangling is great to go to when you need some flavor in your life! She’ll be more than happy to whip you up something, just making sure to tell her your preferences… who knows what she’ll put in there if not.

👻 Hu Tao:

Hu Tao is an interesting person to meet… While majoring in business, she also works closely within an occult club that may or not be run by her as well. The sophomore is an imaginative person, finding new stories to tell her fellow students. Itto has befallen her prankish ways too many times already, and it always ends with him screaming down the hall.

Venti likes to help with her goulish pranks when he can, usually coming up with a “historical” tale to go along with it. They’re a dangerous duo when this happens, and many of the students and teachers become anxious when they're seen together. As sneaky as Hu Tao is, she somehow managed to become friends with Teyvat college’s law major, Yanfei. The studious student finds Hu Tao’s pranks to be quite funny, as long as she’s not on the other end of them.

Hu Tao does very well in her classes, and many of the professor’s encourage practice outside of class. However, Hu Tao has a funny way of marketing her future business to the student body. There’s been many instances of her standing in a far corner of a populated area, rambling on how coffins are needed sooner or later. She tends to scare away a lot of the people.

Hu Tao may be an odd friend to have, but she’s very entertaining to watch. She’ll even let you in on her secret plans if you're lucky enough.

Please Don't be Mad

Paring: Dean x sister! reader

Description: The youngest Winchester decides to sneak out without her brothers knowing. However, something happens that she ends up having to call Dean.

Warnings: Slight angst, unwanted sexual attention

☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆☄. *. ⋆

    Dean woke up abruptly to his phone ringing. At first he thought it was his imagination and he closes his eyes to re-picture the girl he was having fun with in his dream. However, the wretched sound repeats itself, pounding into his head like a migraine. He felt around on the covers irately looking for his phone. A grumble leaves his lips as he throws his legs over the side of the bed. A soft glow lights up beside his feet and he could feel the vibrations through the floor as the device blares on with that infuriating ring. He picks it off the ground and answers without looking at the Caller ID.

        "What do you want?" He asks gruffly.

        "Dean," a girl cries from the other end, "please don't be mad."

        "(Y/n), what the hell? It's like 1:30 in the morning-"

         "Can you please pick me up?"

        "What are you talking about?"

        "I left the bunker without you or Sammy's permission."

        "Then I'm sure you can manage the problem on your own," he said after a short thought. He was about to hang up out of spite until his sister began to sob on the other end. "Alright," he sighs, "I'm on my way. Where are you?"

---

        A smile reaches (y/n) Winchester's face as she looks around at all of the people. Music booms into her skull and neon lights paint the bodies of everyone in the room. The abandoned barn was quite claustrophobic and she had to be careful not to bump into any of the dancing duos.

        She will admit, she was nervous to come when the Gothic girl at the gas station told her about it. Mostly, it was because she's never really done anything without her protective brothers right in tow. Of course, She's been to places like this when her brothers wanted to relax, but she has never experienced it by herself.

        Although, her stomach continually tightens from the separation, excitement bubbles over that anxiety. She wanders around like a lost puppy, in awe with everything that her eyes cross, and finds herself at the snack bar. She grabs one of the plastic cups and fills it halfway with the red drink presented in the punch bowl.

        "Hey there," a boy says, coming up behind her. "Let's dance." His breath reeked of alcohol.      

        "No thank you," (Y/n) politely says, unwrapping his arms from her waist. She begins to leave until a force knocks her against the table. Her beverage falls to the ground, staining the rotten wood with a deep brown. 

        "That wasn't a question," the boy sneers into her ear. He begins to grind against her legs, laughing as he sees tears stinging at the edge of her eyes. "It'll be quick," he mumbles, his hot breath leaving goosebumps to run along her neck.

        "Leave me alone," (Y/n) yells and swings her fist into his nose. Blood specks around her knuckles and she notices the boy holding his face, red spilling between his fingers.

        Anger flares withing his eyes as he looks at her. (Y/n)'s body trembles under his gaze. She bolts towards the entrance, hearing the boy trail behind her as she races through the crowd. "You're dead-" His voice is muffled by the speakers.

        (Y/n) struggles to get her phone out as she makes it to the open double doors. She scrolls through her contacts as she races to the side of the barn. She traces along the wooden grey wall, dirt collecting on her finger tip. She decides to hide under a couple of planks propped against the barn and holds the phone to her ear. "Dean, please don't be mad."

---

Headlights glare into (Y/n)'s hiding hole as the Impala pulls up beside the building. The young Winchester scurries out and walks over to the driver's side door. Dean didn't bother looking at her through the rolled down window; he kept his eyes ahead of him with a bored expression.

        "Dean, I-"

        "Just get in the car."

        The Impala soon rolls off the dirt path that leads out of the farmland. Dean turns onto the main road and passes a glance at (Y/n).

        "Mind telling me why you thought it was a good idea to sneak out?" Dean asks in a serious tone. His sister shrugs in return. "You don't know? Then why the hell did you do it? Do you know how dangerous that is- what if something happens and me or Sammy don't have any idea where you are! Have you thought about that?" Dean raises his voice.

        "Why can't you just leave me be," (Y/n) mutters, leaning against her palm and staring out the window.

        "What was that?"

        "Why can't you just leave me be." The girl repeats loudly, turning to face her brother.

        "Huh, I wonder why? We fight the Supernatural for a living, (Y/n). You know better than to ask that. It's for your safety."

        "It's not my fault I was born into this stupid family," She suddenly yells out. The car ride becomes thick with silence and Dean's anger could be felt, pulsating off his body in rapid waves. (Y/n) looks down at her lap in guilt. "I didn't mean that."

        "Sure you didn't."

        "It's just that, I never get to experience anything without you or Sammy being protective about it. I wanted to try something without being coaxed out of it."

        "Why bother calling then, if you wanted the 'experience'," Dean snaps sarcastically. 

        "I was scared..."

        "Scared of what?" Dean says with a dry laugh.

        "This guy, he tried... he tried to-" a sob wrecks up her throat as she tries to explain the situation that unfolded a few minutes prior. "I-I'm sorry! I didn't know what to do and y-you were the first person who I knew would come rescue me." A large hand falls unto her trembling one and traces along her palm in comfort. 

        "It's OK. you don't have to say anymore," Dean shushes. (Y/n) interlocks her fingers between his calloused ones and holds on tightly.

        "I won't do anything without you permission again," she whispers.

        "I know," he smiles softly, "and (Y/n)? Your grounded."

┃Coffee Please~┃☕

Pairing: Dean x Sister! reader x Sam 

Description: The youngest Winchester wakes up exhausted from an awful night of sleep. She has never had coffee before but seeing her brothers have a cup, she wants to see if it will help perk her up too.

Warnings: slight swearing

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

          (Name) opens her eyes as a hand around her shoulder begins to shake her lightly. Her older brother, Dean, hovers over the bed she slept in, his face dim compared to the sun coming through the window behind him. Wrinkles form at the end of his eyes as a smile quirks onto his lips.

          “Five more minutes,” (Name) mumbles while tugging the patterned quilt over her nose. Dean’s smile darkens, olive green eyes glimmering with mischief, and he took a step to the right. She hisses and shields herself from the beaming light with the back of her hand.

          “Sammy will be back in a few minutes,” Dean says, chuckling at his sister’s reaction.

          “So? Let me sleep until he gets here...” (Name) groans. She turns her back to him, hiding her face in the bicep of her arm.

          “Alright then, but we’re leaving right when he does. I just thought you would like a bit of time to do your girly stuff,” Dean replies, leaning against the window and looking out. “Oh, here comes Baby,” he lies after getting a grumble as a response. 

          (Name) throws her covers off, grabbing her bag by the handle, and flounces into the motel bathroom with a slam of the door.

          “Don’t stay in there too long,” Dean calls out.

          “Shut it!”

         (Name), back hunched forward, came out with a new set of clothes on. She throws her off-brand converse to the floor, taking a seat at the small dining table, and rubs her eyes harshly to rid of the tiredness.

          “How did you sleep?” Dean asks in a serious tone when noticing her exhausted state.

          “Like shit,” his sister replies while supporting her chin with the palm of her hands.

          “Swear.” 

          “You and Sammy cuss all the time,” (Name) said in defense, crossing her bare feet on the wooden chair. 

          “Because we’re adults, you’re just a baby.”

          “I’m fifteen!”

          “And?” Dean shrugs, sitting at the end of one of the beds. He tugs his jacket over his shoulders, looking at his sister with the most salient expression.

          “My god,”(Name) whispers to herself, trying to hide the small smile that twitched at the edge of her lips.

          Dean opens his mouth say something else; however, the front door opens to reveal Sam with two steaming cups of coffee. Shutting the door with the heel of his shoe, he then passes Dean one of the cups to drink.

          “Papers dating back to fifty years ago have retold occurrences where bodies were found mutilated on the outskirts of town, such as Emelia Roberts. A few locals reported to have seen a tall black entity hanging around the old gas station two miles north from the court house,” Sam explains before taking a sip of his beverage. 

          (Name) watched longingly at the perk up juice in his hand, wanting nothing more than to jug it down to wake herself up. She smacks her cheeks to help focus on her brothers’ conversation on the monster that has been terrorizing the people of the community they were inhabiting for a few days.

          “Should we start there?” Sam asks, giving his sister a confusing glance before turning his attention back to Dean. 

          “We need to go back into town and ask around for any info we can get. We’ll head for the gas station near dark to avoid any run-ins with the owner,” Dean said while grabbing his gun from the bedside drawer and placing it into his jean pocket. Sam began to gather his things as well but (Name) keeps her position in the chair. Her head is pressed on the surface of the table, taking glimpses at the cup Dean had set down in front of her.

          “(Name)-” Sam starts.

          “Can I have some coffee too?”

          The two brothers stopped in their tracks, looking at their sister with amusement. (Name) turns her head in their direction, a humdrum expression on her face.

          “Uh, why?” Sam asks, removing his cup’s lid from his mouth.

          “Because,” She replies with a lazy shrug.

          “Okay?” Sam looks at Dean with an arched eyebrow.

          “I’m exhausted,” she continues, “it seems to help you so maybe it will help me too.”

          They laugh, humored with her pensive mood. Dean extends his hand towards his cup in front of her, gesturing for her to pick it up. 

          “Is it good?” (Name) asks, holding the Styrofoam between her hands, relaxing under the warm touch.

          “I don’t know,” Dean says with a smirk, “You’re the one who wanted to try it so try it.”

          (Name) presses the tip to her mouth, flinching as the hot liquid goes down her throat. She looks up at her brothers with a broadening smile.

          “This is mine now,” She motions to the object in her hand before taking another sip.

          “I don’t think so, chick.” Dean snatches it from her and cradles it in his armpit. Sam laughs again as (Name) lets out a long-noted groan. 

          “Here,” Sam replies, motioning for her to take his. “You can have mine.”

          “No! You already drank half of yours,” she whines, slinging her arms like a child with a tantrum. “I want Dean’s.”

          “Not gonna happen,” Dean dismisses. 

          “Why not?” (Name) argues, standing up to press her jaw against his shoulder.

          “Cause it’s mine,” he responds, flicking her nose.

          (Name) glares at him before giving Sam the best puppy eyes she could muster.

          “There’s no need for that, (Name). When we head out, we’ll stop by somewhere and buy you one... and refill Dean’s now empty cup,” Sam says, pointing to their brother who was guzzling down the rest of his coffee.

          “What? She drank most of it,” He states.

          “You two are children,” Sam mutters, slipping his bag over his head.

          “Hey, She’s the child,” Dean said, walking out the door.

          “I’m fifteen!”

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Present Silence

C̲l̲o̲c̲k̲w̲o̲r̲k̲ ̲x̲ ̲N̲o̲n̲-̲B̲i̲n̲a̲r̲y̲!̲ ̲r̲e̲a̲d̲e̲r̲

❥ Warnings: mentions of neglect, mental instability, hints to eating disorder, mentions of cancer, death of a parent

𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴! 𝙸𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜.

⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

   (Y/n) wasn’t much for silence, yet it was the exact thing that haunted them in the dead of night. You could say it rooted from a traumatic event from their childhood; an abandonment that made them become almost non-pellucid to the outside world. Not that they cared. They saw society in a fixed lens, seeing every little speckle of morality as if it was a blemish on their sketch book.

  However, the white tiled halls outside their room didn’t even make any motion. No reverberation of heels clicking against the marble or the creaking of an old wheelchair rolling down the narrow walls. It’s as if the present became quietude itself. Static fills the emptiness inside (Y/n)’s head, spreading down throughout their body like a virus. It bleeds into their veins, leaving a heavy formication. Their fingers itch and claw at the ashen sheets below them, pulling at the restraints hung taut at the edge of the bed.

  They wanted to scream, beg to the black figure standing in the corner to stop. It watches them with gaping eyes, its black irises widening with delegation. The creature wasn’t real, they knew this. The suppressed subjectivity of their mind was interesting. The morbidity that it plays with made (Y/n) want to laugh. To say that it all started with a drawing was much too simple.

  The doctors liked to prescribe it as a disease; a disease that will slowly consume (Y/n) as they spiral into madness within these matted panels. (Y/n) thought of this ‘sickness’ as gospel. With their new pair of glasses, they could distinguish what was true and what was false. Who was for them and who was not. That power does come with a cost.

  (Y/n) was quite bright as a child, finding new ways to express themselves as an upcoming member of a Utopia they thought existed. With a pencil and paper, they could abstract anything that popped into their young mind. They love to draw. It was an activity that allowed them to show others how they saw the world. Bright and opportunistic, with the sun shining over everyone in brand lighting.

  ‘That world doesn’t exist. Get over your stupid dreams of becoming something that’s unrealistic.’

  Their mother had told them that a long time ago, when the colors they once saw turned bland. When their father left, life as they knew it flipped upside down. ‘You can be anything, and I’ll be there for you,’ he said. What a joke. He should have known that the cancer would get to him before (Y/n) would ever aspire in a work ethic. Their mother wasn’t much of an enthusiast, especially after her husband died. The one luminosity that ever dared to make her smile was the one that left her with a kid she didn’t even love.  

  Life wasn’t too bad. (Y/n) still had the gift of sight and vision that provided them with the love of drawing. As they woke up from the distant memory of a peachy story, they then realized their potential. No one understood their craft though, using the aphorism that grotesque and dark art did not aid in this world’s progression. (Y/n) did not adjure this type of thinking. Didn’t they see it wasn’t that of a pretentious display?

  The school recommended that they be transferred in an institute during their third year of high school. (Y/n)’s mother was more than compliant for their requests. ‘They need medical help. A kid their age should not be thinking so deeply about these things.’ The nurses were nice enough. They had charming smiles and always made nice comments on (Y/n)’s latest projects. They were fake, sadly. Though, (Y/n) appreciated their efforts to perceive the meaning.

  The crisp breath of the inky silhouette fans over (Y/n)’s face. A shudder goes down their spine, pricking their nerves like hot wax. It lies on their leaden body, grabbing at the muscles of their neck with a tight squeeze. (Y/n) was hyperventilating again, the edges of their field of vision spotting. It was a trick. Why was their mind going against them so?

  They twist and turn against the restraints tied around their limbs, the leather rubbing into their skin harshly. The feeling of it burning at the pellicle of their wrists and ankles erupts another feeling inside the pit of their stomach. They needed to get out. They wanted out. The sudden anticipation to move ached in their joints and they struggle more against the phantasmal weight on them.

  (Y/n)’s hands slip through the material, and they heave themselves upward. The darkness emitting their sight disperses into the shadows of the room, leaving them to gasp for air. Rubbing at the red pigmentation of their abused wrists, they kick off the belts holding their feet. The distant sound of a clock erupts the quiet void of the room.

  The window adjacent to the door opens gradually, and the form of a girl crawls in. The constant ticking coming from the girl’s retina eases the density crawling at (Y/n) with vigor. The static falls into a pleasant buzz on their skin.

  The girl pushes her brown locks out of her face, her one hazel orb almost glowing in the moonlight. Her sewn smile stifles one to reach (Y/n)’s blue-tinted lips. She reaches into the bag hanging over her shoulder, unzipping it with ease. She pulls out a black book and tosses it onto the thin bedding. Despite her not speaking, (Y/n) nods their head in appreciation.

  “Thank you, Clocky…” (Y/n) huskily remarks. Their fingers graze over the rough fabric of the cover and they open it to see it was another sketch book. It was probably one she snatched from one of her 'jobs’. She would never say what she did, but that didn’t cause any frustration on (Y/n)’s part. “You always know how to make me feel better…”

  “I saw you screaming again,” Clockwork replies, “Did you have another episode?” She sits down on the mattress, crossing her arms.

  (Y/n) simply taps at their head, the pads pointing towards their left eye. They suddenly get up from their position, their malnourished body contorting with audible pops. Clockwork watches them with precise movements as they grab for a box under the furniture. (Y/n) opens it, grabbing some paper and two graphite pencils.

  “Will you draw with me?” They ask sweetly.

  Clockwork looks towards the door, before breathing out. “Alright, but only for a little bit. I’m not supposed to be here.” She places herself on the cold floor as (Y/n) positions the material.

  “I’ll show you the new monster I saw tonight. I’ll call it Present Silence…” They muse as they begin to drag the charcoal tip over the clean sheet of paper with eager. Clockwork observes as they wind the black substance in circles. Normal people would call (Y/n)’s art as childish or rubbish, but she was fascinated with it. They drew the way she saw the world.

  “Are you not in the mood to draw?” (Y/n) asks, stopping for a moment to look up.

  Clockwork hums in response before grabbing the book from (Y/n)’s lap.

  “I’m not finished-” They reply, but don’t fight with her as he looks over it.

  “Present Silence, you say?”

  They nod with a smile. “It suffocated me.”

  She gathers her thoughts, before placing a hand on (Y/n)’s head. She brushes her fingers through their hair; these were the hands of a killer. Her hazel eye locks with (Y/n)’s as they wait for a response. She gives them back their art piece and picks herself off the ground.

  “Where are you going?” (Y/n) says sadly, “Stay for a little longer?”

  Clockwork climbs over the windowsill, her hand holding onto the glass. She glances back, a ghostly tender look veiling over her harsh looking demeanor. “The next time I visit, I’m bringing something special.”

  “What you bring me is always special,” They answer.

  “See you…” Clockwork says in response, closing the window back to where it was before she entered. Present Silence once again greets the lonely figure within the room.

 ⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

͙۪۪̥˚┊❛And They Were Roommates ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

Being Alhaitham's and Kaveh's flat mate would include...

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ♦ First of all, you are kind of the black sheep between you three. Instead of going with your brain, you stick with your more artistic side. ♦ Alhaitham and Kaveh don't really mind the spontaneity you carry. As long you are not hurting yourself, they leave you be. ♦ They aren't overprotective, because they know you candle your own devices. Just know that they will have an eye out for you, even when you least expect it. You are their friend after all. ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

♠ The whole point on why you moved to Sumeru City is because your parents got you a scholarship in the Ackedemyia. From a long line of scholars, you are expected to do the same. Alhaitham knows you could care less about the works; however, he finds himself keeping you on track with a special made schedule. Maybe it's because he doesn't want his reputation to suffer, or it may be that you aren't going to do it yourself. Either way, be grateful he keeps up with your busy mind. ♠ You have found that you like to crochet bookmarks for Alhaitham. He insists that he doesn't need them and that he can remember where he left off just fine on his own. Though he grumbles and complains, you can find your creations stuffed in his many books. Don't call him out though or he'll get ticked off. ♠ Surprisingly, Alhaitham loves to chat with you about books. He'll recommend series he thinks you'll enjoy or gossip about publishes' plots and characters.

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

♣ When he's home, Kaveh likes to indulge himself in whatever you do. Your painting? He'll be your model. You need help writing? He'll give you suggestions and tips. He'll even join you for yoga. Just be warned though, he will get very playful. ♣ When Kaveh argues with Alhaitham about furniture, he tries to get you to agree with him. It usually ends up with you and him ganging up on the poor Sage. Imagine Kaveh's surprise when the one time he complains about a lamp, he completely broke when you said you refurnished it yourself.

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

Author's Note: This is a bit short and I'm sorry Kaveh isn't as loved as Alhaitham. I'm soft for both of them though and needed to indulge myself. I hope you enjoyed regardless. 😭