#and then cas says ‘when YOU were taken’ and ‘i couldn’t find YOU’ and ‘i needed to come back here with a win for YOU’

[sunglassesmish]

insane dialogue for an insane scene

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Coming Home (Part Fifteen)

Azriel x Reader

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen

Warnings: None! Apart from angst, ofc.

⧪

No.

No, no, no. Not now. This couldn’t be happening now.

Nothing existed in your head but screeching, screaming. None of the euphoria that had taken its place there only moments ago. An endless, relentless wind of darkness whipping around your brain and swallowing you up–

Mate. The word was clanging around in there somewhere, a millstone fastening itself around your neck. Not now, not now, not now.

You were winded. Leached of all breath, of all ability to think. Your trembling hands gripped onto the railing behind you – the only thing that stopped your legs from giving out beneath you.

Azriel was staring back at you, his eyes just as wide. But…understanding, it looked like, dawning across his face. Like the fog of a century of confusion was clearing, and things were beginning to make sense, realisation hitting–

You wanted to scream. You may have been screaming, for all you were aware of what was happening inside your head, and outside of it. 

Fate must have been watching from somewhere above, cackling at you. Why now – you wanted to scream at the skies. Why, when–

When you’d already made peace with the fact that you were leaving Velaris again – perhaps never to return. 

When before you’d even arrived at the Starfall celebrations that evening, you’d known this would be your last night here. That you were affording yourself one more night with the family you felt so disconnected from – and then you were out of here.

When you’d already written to Tarquin, informing him of your imminent arrival. 

Fate was definitely laughing at you. Definitely punishing you – perhaps for being the hateful, bitter person that the passing years had moulded you into. Perhaps you deserved this. 

“Y/N.” Azriel’s voice, though quiet as usual, may as well have been a claxon up on that roof. It hurt your ears, your head – your heart. He took a single step towards you. “Y/N.”

You blinked, tears spilling over that you didn’t even realise had formed. You attempted to take a step back – to get away from him – but the cold railing only pressed further against your back. 

“Y/N.” Az repeatedly softly. “You…you’re my–”

“I need to leave.” You choked out; you couldn’t let him say the word. Couldn’t allow him to make it real. You sidestepped him. “I need to go.” 

His beautiful features folded into a frown, lips parting. He reached for you, but not fast enough – you were already pushing past him. “Y/N…what…?”

“I’m leaving.” In great, hurried strides, you’d reached the door to the roof. Az was hot on your trail, his lips speaking words you couldn’t hear beneath the roaring of your mind. Somehow, you managed to force your feet down the stairs, though your legs could buckle at any moment. 

“Where are you going?” Az’s boots thudded closely behind you. “Dammit, Y/N.”

Home – you were going home. Somehow. You had to get out of here, out of the House of Wind, and back to your house – where you were then leave for Adriata. You just needed to find someone–

Cassian. That was who you were looking for. You reached the lower level, not even acknowledging Az following you as you took a sharp turn into the kitchen. It was empty – everyone still out on the main balcony, still going about their celebrations as if the entire world hadn’t just cleaved and shook – except for Cassian fixing himself a drink. You almost cried out in relief. 

“Cas.” You hurried over. “Cassian.” 

The Illyrian general looked up with a smile – that quickly fell as he took in your features, the tears streaming down your cheeks, the undoubtedly shell-shocked expression taking up your face. The stardust smattering your clothes and hair. And then he glanced to Azriel behind you, his gaze flickering between the two of you. Could he sense what had just changed? Scent the…the bond, perhaps–

“Cas, I need you to fly me home. Now.” You breathed, every part of you trembling. 

“What–”

“I can fly you home.” Azriel spoke quietly behind you. He took a step closer. “I – let me take you home.” 

You backed away so fast, you knocked into Cassian, barely registering his warm hands steadying you. “No. No. I want Cassian to take me.” 

Azriel’s face crumpled again. That was a silent plea in his eyes. “Y/N…please…” 

But you were ignoring him. Turning in Cassian’s arms, and hoping that your eyes were communicating the utter desperation you felt. He shot one more look at Az before meeting your gaze, his brow deeply furrowed.

“Please, Cas.” You whispered. “Please just take me home.” 

Tracking a tear that rolled down your cheek, he nodded. “...Okay. Yeah. Of course.”

“The other balcony,” You managed to bite, your hand dragging Cassian towards the glass doors that opened out onto the smaller, unoccupied veranda. Your feet stumbled ungracefully, stalling and tripping every other step, but Cas’s firm grip was enough to keep you upright.

“Y/N.” Azriel followed, bursting so hard through those glass doors, it was a wonder he didn’t smash them. “Just–”

“Leave it, brother.” Cassian said, scooping you into his arms. You could have sobbed in relief. “She doesn’t want to talk to you right now.”

And then he shot into the skies, Az’s stunned, bewildered figure becoming smaller and smaller as the distance stretched. You clung to Cas with a grip so hard, your nails bit into his skin; you didn’t know if it was the fear of such a height, or just the need to hold on to something that kept you gripping, firmer and firmer. 

Cas didn’t ask questions – he’d always been brilliant like that. Leaving room for you to talk if you wished, but not pushing it. Even though his mind must have been crammed full with questions about what may have happened back there – he didn’t ask. Didn’t even speak. 

He landed just outside your property with feather-light steps, not even giving you room to argue as he pulled you up to the door and walked you inside, his hand a solid grip on your own. Not that you had the capacity, right then, to argue; you were seconds from collapsing, or – something. Hyperventilating. Completely fucking breaking. 

Cas stopped in the doorway, watching you silently – waiting for some kind of indication that you were alright – as you began to pace the floor, rubbing a hand over your chest as if to ease the ache that had gathered there. Maybe you would throw up, right there, over the dress Azriel had bought you. Part of you wanted to rip it off and burn it. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything…” Cas said, inching closer. “But…I’m worried. Are you alright? You don’t look alright.”

No, you wanted to tell him, I’ve never been less alright. The temptation to drop at his feet and sob until you were hoarse was very much present, but – there would be no chance to leave Velaris with him watching over you.

And that was the only thing that could make you feel better. Getting out of here. Leaving it all behind. 

“I’m fine.” You choked; it was laughable how unconvincing it sounded. “You don’t have to stay here. Go back to the party, Cas.” 

He didn’t move. Just continued to eye you warily. “...I don’t want to leave you like this. Did Az–”

“I’m fine, Cassian. I just – I’m just going to go to bed. 

Lies. You were such a pretty, skilled liar. Part of you hated yourself for it – for being deceitful. What if this was the last time you clapped eyes on Cas? The male who had been like a brother to you from the day you were born? What if you never saw him again–

No. You couldn’t start having thoughts like that…thoughts that would talk you out of your decision. Emotions were the last thing you needed to bring into this. You needed to be stoic, unblinking – to convince yourself that you didn’t care. 

“Seriously, Cas. I’m just…I’m exhausted. I need to sleep.” You paused – and then forced another lie that almost wrangled a sob from your throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

No, you wouldn’t. And he had no fucking clue. 

“Just…send word…if you need me.” Cassian said. “Whatever it is, I’ll come straight away. Promise me.”

“I promise.” Liar, liar, liar.

He nodded – stiffly, not at all convinced by you. But also not wanting to push you. Never wanting to push you. 

He stepped away, and then turned in the doorway, glancing at you over his shoulder. “I love you, you know, Y/N.” 

Your eyes shuttered. “I love you too, Cas.” And you did. 

But it was much too late for that.

⧪

You gave yourself a total of fifteen minutes to completely lose your shit, to freak out and cry and scream.

And then you pulled the shutters down on your emotions, and you forced yourself into action. 

Glorious Fae magic had meant that most things you planned to take to Adriata with you were already stored into the pocket realm, ready to be retrieved when you got there. You planned only to clean yourself up, and to carry a light change of clothes with you that you could don as soon as you got there. Something far more Summer Court friendly.

It was when you were rifling through your drawers, making sure you’d not left anything behind that you wished to take with you, that you heard the thump. And then the balcony doors opened. 

Azriel burst in, nothing but a night-kissed breeze. You tried to ignore him, to not even acknowledge his arrival, as you continued moving about the room.

But he knew, immediately, what he was witnessing. His brilliant brain caught on in an instant, as he took in the room, lighter of some of your belongings that had been there before. The sight of you shoving that change of clothes into a small, light bag. 

“What are you doing?” His voice was guttural. He stepped further into the room, into your path, when you ignored him. “Y/N?!”

You stepped past him, throwing your earrings – the earrings he had bought you – onto your dresser. “I’m leaving.” 

“What? You’re not…you can’t–”

“It’s not up for discussion, Azriel. I’m leaving. Can you move out of my way, please?”

“No.” He moved into your path, his features crumpling. You could have sworn his voice broke. “You’re not going anywhere. We need to talk–”

“There is nothing to talk about, Azriel. Nothing.” 

You may as well have stabbed him straight through the heart, from the way he looked at you. From the way he fell so terribly still. His throat worked on a swallow.

“You,” He rasped, yanking you closer by the hand. He cupped your face in his palms, his skin icy cold, “You are my mate.”

You grimaced. Felt that horrible, dreadful thing that snaked its way beneath your skin, through your veins, into your bones. A lethal, deadly thing that was both freezing and scorching, empty and suffocating. It was evil, so ruthless and evil–

It was what allowed you to reach up. To grab Azriel by the wrists and prise his hands from you. You stepped away, willing your face into steel. 

“Do not,” You bit harshly – in a voice that didn’t even sound like yours, “touch me.” 

Heartbreaking – so heartbreaking, the way his gaze immediately fell to his scarred hands, as if they were the problem, as if they hadn’t been touching you so gloriously not even an hour before. He studied them, a muscle in his jaw moving, and then he lifted his eyes to yours again. 

Gods, they were haunted. Breaking. You could see it, and you wanted nothing more than to grab him and stop him from falling apart. But…but you were broken, too. You were so fucking broken, and nobody had stopped you from falling apart. 

“I am leaving Velaris.” You croaked. “I’m going to the Summer Court – to Adriata. I’ve already informed Tarquin. I’m leaving.” 

“But why? Why would you–”

“Because I can’t stay here, Azriel!” You snapped. “I can’t stay here and act like everything is fine when I’m falling apart and none of you fucking care!”

“I care about you more than anyone.” 

“You can’t just decide that now because a fucking bond tells you to!” You were shaking, so, so near to trashing the entire room. You shoved past Azriel, began picking up clothes just to give your hands something to do. “I came back here, because I needed my family. Because I was lonely, and hurting, and I thought I might actually find the love here that I yearned for so badly.”

“I know things haven’t been easy–”

“Things have never been easy for me, Azriel. Ever. And every single one of you knows that, but nobody wants to help! And why? Because I’m not like Elain? Because I’m not delicate and soft and sweet? Because I can deal with it on my own, like I always have?!”

“No–”

“Well I haven’t dealt with it, you know.” You whipped around to face him. “I have never dealt with it. Not the trauma my father left me with, or Tamlin’s father, or you playing with my fucking feelings. Not Rhys being disappointed in me, who I’ve become, even if he doesn’t say it outright. I have never dealt with any of those things. I’ve let them fester, and spread, and now I don’t know where one bad thing ends and another begins. I fucking hate myself, Azriel. I hate myself, and I hate my life, and that is why I need to leave.” 

Those broken eyes of his stared at you so thoroughly, so pressingly, it felt like he was undressing you, peeling back every one of your vulnerabilities and leaving you bare, emotionally naked before him. He braced another step towards you.

“Then let me help you.” He whispered. “Please. I know I’ve let you down. I’m so fucking sorry for that. I know I should have been there for you. I know that I was a coward and I should have just faced my feelings instead of mistreating yours. But I want to fix all of that. I want to make this better for you – for us.”

“Why, Az?” You laughed weakly, humourlessly. “Because we’re mates? It’s too late for that.” 

“It can’t be. Y/N, I…I can’t lose you again–”

“I’m not yours to lose!”

He flinched – actually flinched, at your sharp words and cutting tone. The Shadowsinger, Spymaster, a figure of pure, unflinching stone, had become nothing more than a breakable object in front of you.

And you were about to break him.

But he’d broken you first. 

“I can’t–” You swallowed a sob, furiously wiping your eyes. “I can’t give myself to anyone like this. How can I be someone’s mate when I can’t even live with myself? I can’t!”

“I can help you.” Azriel whispered. “I want to help you. I don’t care about anything else.” 

“No, Az. You can’t.” You shook your head. Braved a step closer to him – even though it physically pained you not to reach out and touch him. “It’s something I need to do. It’s something I need you to let me do. I need you to let me go so that I can heal. Because I’m broken…and I cannot even think about accepting this bond while I am.” 

You watched him – your mate – as a tear escaped the corner of his eye, rolling down his cheek. His shoulders had slumped, and you could feel it – his defeat. 

“Az,” You breathed softly. “If…if you care about me…you’ll let me do this. Don’t make it difficult for me. I need to leave. I can’t get better here.” 

His eyes shuttered, sending more tears skittering down his cheeks. So badly, you wanted to reach forward and wipe them away.  But you didn’t. You stood your ground. Squared your shoulders.

Moments passed in silence. Of Az breathing heavily, slowly, like he was trying to calm himself. He pressed his lips tightly together, and you could see him fighting back a huge onslaught of tears. He wouldn’t let himself break right now – before you. 

“Okay.” He eventually rasped. “If it’s what will help you – okay. I won’t stop you.”

“Thank you.” You whispered. 

He cleared his throat – cleared the lump of emotion away. Straightened himself out. “Can I…can I at least winnow you to Adriata? Please?” 

You paused, not having expected him to request that. You supposed you expected him to simply relent, and then to take off into the skies where he would scream at the clouds and the roaring winds. Maybe get drunk on his own and return to the House of Wind once everyone was asleep, not there to witness him breaking apart.

But he wanted as much time with you as he could get.

And you…you were okay with that. Leaving again would be hard, even though it was what you needed more than anything – having him by your side, however briefly, would help. 

So you nodded, brushing past him and reaching for your bag. 

“Yes.” You said. “You can winnow me to Adriata.”

⧪

Even Azriel wasn’t powerful enough to lengthen the process of winnowing – although you sensed he wanted to try.

He didn’t just take hold of your hand, as he normally would for such a venture. He clutched your body to his, his arms snaking around you, his face burying into your hair. 

And then Velaris disappeared from around you. The two of you were dragged into that awful, whipping darkness that existed between one place and another. A darkness that was always a few degrees cooler than everywhere else and always, always so jarring. 

And then you saw it – a pinprick of light that was rapidly growing. You felt heat fanning your face, and you immediately picked up on the smells of balmy air and salt and sea. Even in the very early hours of the morning, Adriata had a brightness about it that was breathtaking. 

You were awed by the sights that you’d turned your back on all those years ago. But Azriel’s body had stiffened against you. 

Tarquin’s sandstone palace loomed over you, beautiful and brilliant in all its Summer Court glory. And there, in the huge, arching doorway, the High Lord stood. 

He was as breathtaking as you remembered. Cutting a casual, easy figure in pale, flowing clothes, the white of his long hair against the rich brown of his skin, and the pale blue of his eyes, had any potential greetings dying in your throat. 

He truly was a vision. A friend.

Azriel sat you down at the steps that led up to the door – but kept an arm around you. Tarquin moved forward, descending the steps with casual grace.

“Welcome back to my home, Lady of the Night.” He greeted you with a bow that he repeated to Azriel. “Shadowsinger – good to see you.” 

“Tarquin.” Was all Azriel offered – that, and a stiff nod. He stared up at the palace as if he couldn’t quite believe he’d gone along with this. As if he was considering taking you and winnowing straight back out of there.

You slid out from under his arm, turning to face him with a knot in your stomach. 

“I don’t want to go.” He whispered, brushing his fingers over yours. 

Tarquin had the good sense to look away and feign interest in a crack in the wall.

“I know.” You murmured back. “But I need this, Az. This – this will be good for me.” 

Tarquin cleared his throat. “She’ll be well looked after here. I’ll see to it myself.” 

Azriel glanced at him sharply, clearly reading a meaning behind the High Lord’s words that wasn’t there – and he growled. You placed a hand on Az’s chest, forcing his eyes back to yours. 

“Please Az.” You pleaded quietly. “Let me go…for now.”

He swallowed hard. “Can I at least write to you?” 

“I just...I just need some time. Give me some time, some space, and when I’m ready to talk, I’ll write to you.” 

He paused – and then gave a relenting nod. What other choice did he have? The whole point of this was for time, for space. 

At least he was trying to understand that. 

“If you…” He cleared his throat, “If at any point you want to come home, just send word. I’ll be here right away.” 

“I know you will, Az.” 

And then he just stood, staring at you, clearly not wanting to take that leap and leave. And it would have been so easy to grab hold of his hand and beg him to stay with you. So, so easy – but not good for you. 

“I’ll be waiting to hear from you.” He leaned in. “Whenever you’re ready.”

He leaned down, brushing his lips over your cheeks and your forehead in such light, gentle kisses. And then he stood back.

And then he was gone. A shadow splintering into nothing before you.

You gritted your teeth. Told yourself not to cry. You felt the warm touch of Tarquin’s hand on your arm.

“Come, friend.” He said gently. “Let’s get you settled in.” 

⧪

Az flew and flew until he could fly no more. Until he was exhausted, his wings begging for a break. Until he’d screamed so much, he’d nearly lost his voice, and the wind had dried the streaks of tears on his tanned face. 

It felt like it could have been anywhere between hours or days, just circling the skies and forcing himself to feel. To hurt. To recognise the consequences he now had to live with.

You were gone. And there was nothing he could do but let it be. To put you before everything and everyone else. 

The sun had risen over Velaris by the time he could no longer keep himself aloft. The Inner Circle would still be at the House of Wind – either soaking up a night of drinking with breakfast, or heading to bed for some much needed rest. 

Az could have done the sensible thing and gone for a walk, cooled himself off. He could have kept his mouth shut and wallowed in his pain alone. 

But then he was coming to a staggered stop on one of the balconies, and he realised – he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave this alone, even if he wanted to.

A feral anger was growing inside of him. And he needed an outlet. 

He kicked his way through the halls of the house. The combination of different voices coming from the sitting room told him that nobody was in bed yet. 

He’d have an audience, then.

Fine. That was fine. 

The doors to the sitting room were wide open, and they were all in there – Rhys and Feyre, Cassian and Nesta, Mor and Amren…even Elain was tucked into one of the armchairs, a soft laugh escaping her in response to something Cassian had said. 

Az’s boots thudded against the floor, announcing his presence as he approached the room and stepped inside. Everyone looked up.

“Where did you get to?” Mor was the first to speak, sitting up. “Cas said he flew Y/N home because she was tired, but you were gone, too.” 

Azriel may as well have not heard her, for all he acknowledged her. No – he stared at Rhys, and Rhys only. Stepped closer. 

It took seconds for them all to catch on to something being…wrong. That look in Azriel’s eyes…the fury–

“What’s the matter, Az?” Rhys frowned, an arm casually slung around Feyre’s shoulders. “Why are you–” He paused as Az stopped before him, his nostrils flaring. “You smell…different.” 

Az laughed, the sound dark, chilling – void of any humour. “Oh? What do I smell of, Rhys?”

“...Not sure…” The High Lord hummed, rising from the settee. He appraised the spymaster, eyes narrowed. “It’s like–”

“A mating bond, is what it is.” He snapped. “A fucking mating bond. That’s what you can smell.” 

The room fell so very, very still. Even the birds outside seemed to stop singing. Seven pairs of eyes blinked at the Shadowsinger. Not one pair of lips moved. 

So fucking typical, Azriel thought, that not one of them clocked it immediately. Because they wouldn’t automatically assume you to be his mate. Because they treated you like you were nothing, unworthy. 

“My mate,” Az growled, stepping closer to Rhys, “Is gone. Because of you.”

His hands shoved against Rhys’s chest before he could stop himself. Rhys barely budged, but his violet eyes flashed with feral challenge. 

“I suggest you calm down, brother,” He said carefully – his High Lord voice, “And tell me what the hell is going on.” 

Cassian had stood slowly from his seat, inching subtly towards the two males. He stopped just beside them, ready to jump in. 

“Use your fucking brain, Rhysand.” Azriel snapped. “Look around this room, and work out who’s missing, and use your fucking brain.” 

Somewhere – somewhere, there was a light, feminine gasp. One of the five females had worked it out. Probably Mor. Maybe Feyre. 

“You–” Rhys breathed. “My sister–”

“Is my mate, yes.” Az stepped closer again – shoved Cassian’s arm out of the way. “And she’s gone. Left again. Because of how she was treated here.” 

“Take it easy, Az.” Cassian warned quietly. “Hands to yourself.”

It seemed that neither of the other two males heard him. Azriel was huffing breaths now, trembling with utter rage. And Rhys…Rhys blinked–

“What do you mean she left again?” Rhys stepped forward, trying to push past both of them. “Where is she?” 

Azriel stepped in front of him, his shoulder knocking into his. “Summer Court. Said she had to go there because she couldn’t be here anymore. She thinks you’re disappointed in her – that you’re ashamed of her. And she totally fucking hates herself, and every single one of us is to blame. But you, Rhys? You more than anybody.”

Soft, delicate fingers brushed Az’s hand. Elain gazed up at him, worry in those brown eyes. “Azriel–”

“Do not touch me, Elain,” He ripped away. “Don’t you dare.” 

Cassian was in front of him in a second, gently pushing against his chest. “That’s enough, Az. You’re tired and upset – you need to calm down.” 

“I need my mate, Cassian!” 

The stark, pained crack in his voice was jarring. So rare, for any of them to see such a raw display of emotion on his face and in the coiled tension of his body.

None of them knew what to do. How to approach him. How to help him.

Cassian squeezed his shoulder gently. “Just…get some sleep, Az. We’ll talk when we’ve all had some sleep.” 

Not a bad idea – but how was he supposed to sleep with this gnawing, churning pain ripping him apart? When Rhys was just stood there, blinking into space, absolutely fucking useless. 

“She needed us. All of us.” Az said to him through gritted teeth. “But you more than anyone, Rhys. And you neglected her. I don’t blame her for wanting to get away from here. Not one bit.”

Cassian was tugging on him, trying and failing to drag him away. Speaking soothing words into his ear that Az couldn’t even hear over the roaring in his mind. 

“Az…” Rhys finally whispered, his own eyes glistening with tears. “I–”

“Hope you’re happy with yourself, brother.” Az cut him off.

There was a collective gasp of shock as the Shadowsinger’s fist went flying into the High Lord’s face. 

By no means the first time Az had punched Rhys – it was part and parcel of being Fae, ingrained in them to hash things out with fists until the matter was settled and they were friends once more.

But this punch was different. One of a truly hurt, crumbling, heartbroken male. The force behind it had split Rhys’s lip open.

Before anyone could say or do anything else – try to diffuse the situation or drag Azriel away – he turned and stalked from the room himself. His footsteps pounded up the stairs, down the hall.

Only when he was shut in his bedroom did he truly cry and break for his mate. 

Even his shadows didn’t bother him. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tags: @theravenphoenix26 @safetypinxtales @historygeekqueen @smartiepants217 @mulansaucey @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @issybee0611 @goldentournesol @percyjacksonspeen @high-bi-andreadytocry @esposadomd @positivewitch @bsenpai @cityofidek @shannonsaid @topaz125 @azzydaddy @nobody00sthings @sfhsgrad-blog @elizarikaallen @hanasakr @ruleroftides @mis-lil-red @reiincarnatiion @moonfawnx @new-adventures-everyday @davinaclaire16 @i-am-fascinated @lucyysthings @margssstuff @magneticforceofaswifty @xxoverthinkerxx @marigold-morelli @owllover123 @vera0124 @thewarriormoon @the-book-gnome @favoritecrime1 @pricklepearbloom @icantthinkofanythingplease @ilovespideyyy @kitty-kait @hwas-housewife @localhopedealerr @magical-mischief-makers @holywolfsstuff @grungy-blue-hipster

[crxss01]

— Heartache

pairing ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ jason grace x reader

summary ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ jason and you were dating before he was taken by hera, when he comes back he chooses piper over you leaving you heartbroken.

warnings ✧˖ ° angst, hurt/no comfort, breaking up (is not even stated, he just dated someone else), curse words, jason is kind of an asshole, i love him but i hate him here, piper was clueless about your existence, no piper bashing.

m. list, main m.list.

a/n . . ◟੭ hey, sweet anon! i found this request so interesting and i really enjoyed (even though it hurt) writing this idea for you!

you stood stunned, looking at your boyfriend as he stood there having just climb out of the greek ship. you were too shocked to move towards him, almost a year ago you had started dating and then a couple of months ago he completely disappeared but that time he was missing only made your feelings for him grow.

you had grown desperate to find him and when you found out that he had been sent to camp half-blood you had felt relieved because that meant that there was a chance he was still alive and that you would be able to see him again.

you finally got over your surprised and when you took one step to run towards him like the blonde had done for percy, you didn’t know how you hadn’t notice the hand that jason was holding or the way he was looking at you with guilty eyes.

those same eyes that used to look exactly like that when he did something that you didn’t like, for example one time he made your entire cohort have cleaning duty for a week for something only one of you guys did. it pissed you off extremely that all of your cohort had to pay for somebody’s mistake, now that look was there and you didn’t like it one bit.

this couldn’t be happening.

during the feast you watched their interactions quietly and you weren’t dumb so you connected the dots quickly, hazel kept giving you glances full of pity and reyna glanced at you once in a while.

when others started going their separate ways, (ella with tyson, octavian leaving with leo and others just doing whatever.) you finally decided to speak up when jason had the audacity to ask reyna if he could show the girl, piper, around.

“jason, i think that we have something to discuss before you do that. don’t you think?” you raised an eyebrow, using all your strength to pray to the gods that you don’t start to cry right then and there.

“umm, sure..” he appeared uncomfortable, and piper looked confused.

“i’m his girlfriend,” you told her. “or ex? i don’t know, last time i saw him i was pretty sure we were even in love with each other.” you said the word like it physically hurt to say, and it did because he even told you that he loved you so what was this shit he was pulling now.

“hey,” jason said before you can continue saying more stuff. “we’ll talk, you don’t have to put this onto her. she didn’t know.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to stop yourself from crying and nodded, turning and walking away from the group expecting him to follow you which he did but not before telling her that he will explain everything later. the way he defended her hurt you so much, it was like you didn’t matter anymore.

you finally reached a place where you could have some privacy with him, it was actually the thinking tree. the spot where you and jason met, where he met up with you a couple of times before dating you, where he asked you out, where you had your first kiss with him, where you two said your first i love you and where you last saw each other until now.

you were the one to name the tree and you remember jason’s sweet laugh when you told him the name, he found it interesting that you liked to come under a tree so that you would be able to think with nothing else in mind and then go and give it a name.

“you remember this?” you asked him, nodding at the tree.

“yeah…” he looked at it and you hoped he was getting deja vu.

“why are you dating her?” you asked him, straight to the point. “you are dating me, jason. that’s called cheating, something i never expected you to do.”

“listen, i didn’t mean to. it just happened.” jason explained. “i really like her, and i want to stay with her.”

“did you have your memories back at the time this feelings continued to grow?” you asked, still trying to keep your cool.

“yes,” he nodded. “but there was nothing i could do to stop it.”

“jason, i—” your voice broke, the tears started to spill out. “i w—waited for you, all this time…”

“i’m sorry, but i didn’t ask you to do that.” jason said, looking at you with pity which you hated. “i want to stay with her because she makes me happier than i have ever been, i’m sorry that this hurts you.”

“you want to stay with her?” you asked shocked, those words had cut deep.

“yes, and—”

a shrill sound pierced the air. lights flashed in the direction you two had come from.

“piper!” jason rushed in that direction without even glancing back at you.

that single word alone was enough to completely shatter your heart.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ reblogs are really appreciated!

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and the Witch ~ Dean Winchester x fem! reader

Description: Dean asks Y/N to help him find his Dad who mysteriously went missing. The two along with Deans brother, Sam, go to investigate John, the dad’s, last hunt the one in which he’d gone missing from.

Warnings: cannon violence, mentions of su!cide, arguing,witch craft, arguing, curse words, everything written is fiction and should not be taken seriously

word count: 6,103

The Woman In White

(Masterlist/ Next chapter)

Present day…

A knock at the door halted my movements, I wasn’t expecting anyone.

I placed the book I was reading on my coffee table, jumping up to see who was at my front door. Suspicion and anticipation flooded my veins as I peeked through the peephole seeing a familiar deep brown leather jacket, not needing anymore confirmation I opened the door swiftly.

“Y/N.” Dean spoke, a mix of relief and worry laced within his voice.

“Dean” I responded with a smile making its way on my face. I practically jump on him my arms around his neck, the last time I saw him was a month ago when he came up to Maine to hang out with me. We were sitting on the hood of the impala just taking in the view when he said he needed to tell me something, he had this look in his eyes that I couldn’t quite place and just as he was about to ask his phone rang and he had to leave. Since then I hadn’t heard anything from him, no calls or texts.

I let those thoughts pass through me as his initial shock wears off, wrapping his arms around my waist squeezing tightly.

I end our hug, remembering the worry in his voice as he said my name, motioning for him to come in leading him to my living room.

“You cut your hair” He acknowledged, sitting down.

“Felt like it needed a change” I say shrugging.

I had so much I wanted to ask him, but even before that I wanted to hug him again. I didn’t move to do either not wanting to scare him off.

“You sound worried, Dean, is everything okay?” I can’t help but ask, my eyebrows scrunching with worry.

“I'm okay sweetheart, but I do need your help. Dads been missing for a couple of days.” He explained the worry in his voice returning.

“You really think he’s in danger? I mean this has happened before and he always comes back fine” I rationalize.

“Not for this long.” he answered simply.

“Okay” I breathed out already knowing my answer the moment he said he needed my help, “Okay, just give me a couple of minutes to pack.” I repeated as I stood up, that charming smile landed on his face as he stood up with me. I took this as my opportunity to wrap my arms around him, this time around his torso, giving him another hug, if missing someone was illegal then lock me up. His arms wrapped around my waist and I felt the tension I hadn't realized was there, washing off my body.

I broke away first, immediately regretting it, pointing upstairs as a sign for me to start packing.

After traveling many days from Maine to LA we had finally made it to Sam’s place, who Dean naturally also wanted on board to find their dad.

Dean had parked the Impala in a parking lot close by, the darkness of the night cloaking us as Dean found a way in.

I whispered, warning Dean, “He’s already gonna be grumpy about you showing up here let alone breaking in!!”

But he dismissed me with a wave of his hand as he carefully opened up a window, sneaking in before turning back around and offering me a hand. I give him a look that says ‘really we’re doing this’ as I accept his offer and enter the house.

I follow after Dean as he enters a hallway, when suddenly a tall man lunges forward and grabs Dean's shoulder.

I figure it’s most likely Sammy and decide that I can stay back as the brothers have their quarrel.

Dean knocks Sam's arm away and aims a strike at him, missing as Sam ducks. Their fight continues until Dean finally knocks Sam down and pins him to the floor.

“Easy tiger” Dean huffs.

“Dean?” Sam asks, getting a laugh in response.

“You scared the crap out of me!” Sam complains

“That's ‘cause you're out of practice” Dean responds before Sam manages to knock Dean to the floor.

“Or not” Dean mumbles, face full of floor.

They finally get off of each other, as Sam asks “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Well, I was looking for a beer” Dean replies, getting a response from me this time

“Dude, really?”

“Y/N? You're here too?!”

“Hi Sam!” I respond, smiling brightly.

Dean pats Sam on the shoulder, in the weird way guys do to greet another guy, “We gotta talk” Dean explains.

“Uh, the phone?” Sam reasons

“If I'd called, would you have picked up?” Dean counters, getting a low stretched out “yikes” from me as I add in very helpful commentary earning two hard glares from both boys.

Then the light suddenly turns on revealing a curly haired blonde woman wearing short shorts and a cropped Smurfs shirt, very fashionable. I already like her even though I don’t know who she is.

“Sam?” the woman asks, tiredness lacing her voice.

“Jess. Hey. Dean. Y/N, this is my girlfriend, Jessica.” Sam introduces

I smile wildly waving at her, excited to finally meet the woman i’ve heard lots about, while Dean checks her out earning a slap on the back of his head from me

“Wait, your brother Dean? And your friend Y/N?” Jessica asks as Dean turns his head to me annoyed.

Sam nods and Dean moves closer to her ignoring my warning via head smack.

“Oh, I love the Smurfs. You know, I gotta tell you. You are completely out of my brother's league” Dean grins.

“Really, Dean” I deadpan, getting an appreciative half smile from Sam while Dean ignores me.

“Just let me put something on” Jessica says, turning to go before being stopped by another sly comment from Dean “No, no, no, I wouldn't dream of it. Seriously.”

I move forward hitting Dean on the back of the head once more, this time harder, he turns around to me “Really?”

“Yes.” I repond simply.

Dean turns back to Jessica, “Uh anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business” He explains before turning to Sam throwing a “But, uh, nice meeting you.”

“No,” Sam replies, going over to Jessica and putting an arm around her.

“Whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her” he goes on.

Dean turns to look at them both head on, “Okay, Dad hasn't been home in a few days.”

“So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back sooner or later” Sam reasons.

Dean huffs, clarifying, “Dad's on a hunting trip. And he hasn't been home in a few days.”

Sam's expression doesn't change as Jessica glances up at him.

“Jess, excuse us. We have to go outside.”

Dean heads downstairs, Sam follows after him once he changed into jeans and a hoodie, knowing they would be having an argument. I walked behind Sam making sure I was going slow.

Sam states the obvious, “I mean, come on. You can't just break in, middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you.”

I hold back my ‘I told you so’ comment.

“You're not hearing me, Sammy. Dad's missing. I need you to help me find him” Dean counters.

“You remember the poltergeist in Amherst? Or the Devil's Gates in Clifton? He was missing then, too. He's always missing, and he's always fine” Sam reasons, pointing out the same thing I did only a couple days ago.

Dean stops and turns around, Sam stopping too.

“Not for this long. Now are you gonna come with me or not?” Dean asks

“I'm not” Sam replies simply prompting a “Why not?” from Dean.

“I swore I was done hunting. For good” Sam clarifies

“Come on. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad.” Dean try’s reason.

Even though he said it I know we were all thinking it is that bad, it’s always a dangerous game.

Dean starts walking again, Sam and, subsequently, me following.

“Yeah? When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45” Sam recalls

Dean stops at the door to the outside, “Well, what was he supposed to do?”

“I was nine years old! He was supposed to say, don't be afraid of the dark.”

“I’m sorry Dean but Sam’s right about that” I chime in.

“Don't be afraid of the dark? Are you kidding me? Of course you should be afraid of the dark. You know what's out there” Dean explains, looking at the both of us like we’re crazy.

“Yeah, I know, but still. The way we grew up, after Mom was killed, and Dad's obsession to find the thing that killed her. Yet we still haven't found the damn thing. So we kill everything we can find” Sam rationalizes.

“We save a lot of people doing it, too.”

There was a pause where no one said anything before Sam asked, “You think Mom would have wanted this for us?”

I tense knowing that was a sensitive topic, as Dean throws open the door clearly pissed at the mere mention.

“The weapon training, and melting the silver into bullets? Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors” Sam, sadly, points out as we cross and enter the parking lot to the Impala.

“So what are you gonna do? You're just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it?” Dean argues.

“No. Not normal. Safe” Sam clarifies before adding,

“And that's why you ran away.”

“I was just going to college. It was Dad who said if I was gonna go I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing.”

“Yeah, well, Dad's in real trouble right now. If he's not dead already. I can feel it.”

“A-And what about you Y/N? Last time we talked you were saying how you were really happy with your job. Did you just throw that all away to help Dean? No offense Y/N but you really don’t owe him, let alone our Dad, anything.”

I breathe in sharply not expecting him to throw me into this conversation. He was right though, I really did love my job, I was a journalist for a crime website/paper. It paid well and was a way for me to signal to any hunters around if there was something supernatural about the case.

But even so I countered, “I do love my job and just because I agreed to come with doesn't mean I stopped doing it, I was able to make a deal to do it on the road and I’ll do it as long as I’m able to. And trust me I know I don’t owe anyone anything, but you guys are my best friends so you say you need help and I will gladly come, no questions asked.”

Sam looks down, sighing, “You’re too nice for your own good.”

Dean pipes up, “I can't do this without you, Sammy.”

“Yes you can.”

“Yeah, well, I don't want to” Dean clarifies with a sadness in his voice that if you hadn’t known him well you probably wouldn’t have heard.

Sam sighs, “What was he hunting?”

Dean opens the trunk of the car, then the spare-tire compartment that he uses as an arsenal. He props the compartment open with a shotgun so that he can dig through the clutter.

“So when Dad left, why didn't you go with him?”

“Well, first I was hangin with Y/N here for a while before I started working my own gig. This, uh, voodoo thing, down in New Orleans” Dean answers.

Even though it was hardly a sentiment, the mention of us hanging out those weeks brought a smile to my face.

“Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?” Sam questioned.

“I'm twenty-six, dude” Dean spoke as he pulled out papers from a folder, the ones he showed me at the first motel we slept at on our long journey to LA.

“All right, here we go. So Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy.”

Dean hands one of the paper articles to Sam, adding on “They found his car, but he vanished. Completely MIA.”

“So maybe he was kidnapped” Sam reasons.

I answer this time, reciting what I remembered reading as Dean handed Sammy more articles, “Well there was another in April, then in December of oh-four, oh-three, ninety-eight, ninety-two and some more for a grand total of ten over the last twenty years.”

Dean puts the papers away pulling out a bag and then a tape recorder as he continues the info dump,

“All men, all the same five-mile stretch of road. It started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough. Then I got this voicemail yesterday on our drive to you.”

He presses play, the familiar voice of John, their dad, and static playing, having heard it multiple times, “Dean...something big is starting to happen...I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger.”

He stops the recording.

“You know there's EVP on that, right?” Sam mentions.

Dean smiles, “Not bad, Sammy. Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?

All right. I slowed the message down, I ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got.”

He presses play again, “I can never go home…”

“Never go home” Sam repeats as Dean puts everything back where it belongs to shut the trunk.

“Fun, right?” I comment sarcastically.

Sam sighs, “All right. I'll go. I'll help you find him. But I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here.”

Sam turns to go back to the apartment but turns back when Dean says, “What's first thing Monday?”

“I have this...I have an interview.”

“What, a job interview? Skip it.”

“It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate.”

Dean smirks, “Law school?”

“So we got a deal or not?”

Dean says nothing so I do, “Yes, we do” I confirm.

We arrive at the highway where all the men have gone missing just as Sam hangs up the phone, “All right. So, there's no one matching Dad at the hospital or morgue. So that's something, I guess.”

“That’s good!” I add.

Dean then slows the car as we near on a bridge, police cars and men all around, he pulls over fully leaning over to open the glove box, exposing the many fake ids he and his dad had, one’s like FBI and such.

Sam glares at while I say, “Love a good ol’ fraud”

We exit the car heading towards the deputy.

Dean starts, “You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?”

The deputy looks up at us asking, “And who are you?”

Dean flashes his badge, clarifying, “Federal marshals.”

“You three are a little young for marshals, aren't you?” The man asks.

But Dean just laughs, “Thanks, that's awfully kind of you.”

Truthfully he has absolutely no reason to be that smooth.

Dean goes over to the car, the one that belongs to the guy who went missing aka Troy, “You did have another one just like this, correct?”

Jaffe, the deputy who’s name tag I was finally able to read,responds “Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that.”

“So, this victim, you knew him?” Sam chimes in, asking

“Town like this, everybody knows everybody.”

Then I ask, “Besides them being all men have you found any other correlation?”

“No. Not so far as we can tell.” He responds truthfully.

“So what's the theory?” Sam asks

“Honestly, we don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?”

So nothing. Great.

Just before I could ask another question Dean comments, “Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys.”

Sam stomps on Dean's foot, clearing up his comment by saying “Thank you for your time. Gentlemen”

We walk away, with nothing, no helpful information, no nothing.

We make it into town, luckily finding who we assume to be the girlfriend of Troy.

Somehow Dean managed to convince the girl, Amy, that we were Troy's Uncles and Aunt who were also looking for our missing nephew.

Even more surprising we were able to get her to come to a Diner with us to talk, her friend Rachel joining us.

Rachel and Amy sat across from us in a booth, me being squished in by the wall as Dean sat next to me with an arm on the back of my seat and Sam sitting next to him.

Amy begins to explains the last time she saw Troy, “I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did.”

Sam asks, “He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?”

Amy shakes her head, “No. Nothing I can remember.”

“I like your necklace, it’s really nice” I say, noticing the pentagram she was wearing.

“Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents—with all that devil stuff.” Amy says, laughs at the memory.

“I don’t know if you believe in that kind of thing but pentagrams are actually a good tool, it protects you against evil. Your boyfriend has good taste, even if his intentions were different” I smile, careful to not use past tense to not give her the wrong impression.

Dean takes his arm off the back of my seat to lean in “Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything…” going the complete opposite direction I was aiming for aka nice and sympathetic.

But it seems to work as the girls look at each other debating whether whatever they had was worth sharing.

Rachel speaks this time, “Well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk.”

Dean and Sam ask at the same time, “What do they talk about?”

Neither boy called jinx, missed opportunity.

“It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered on Centennial, like decades ago.Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever.”

After heading to the library we found out about our murderous spirit, a twenty-four year old Constance Welch who committed suicide in 1981 after her two kids died in the bathtub when she walked away for a moment.

She commited on the very bridge that Troy, and many others went missing.

So that very night, we walked along the bridge, stopping to lean on the railing. “So this is where Constance took the swan dive.” Dean said, looking over the railing.

“What a respectful way to put it, Dean” I say to him sarcastically.

“So you think Dad would have been here?” Sam asks Dean.

“Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him.” Dean spoke, I knew this would turn into another argument between them so I walked in front of them to give them room.

Their conversation became murmurs as I kept ahead, minutes going by before I turned around to wait for them to catch up.

“Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday—“ Sam said frustrated before being cut off by Dean

“Monday. Right. The interview.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?” Dean asked.

“Maybe. Why not?” Sam answered back

“Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?” Dean argues.

“No, and she's not ever going to know.” Sam responds.

“Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.” Dean turns around and keeps walking, Sam following, caught up to me at this point.

“And who's that?” Sam questions.

“You're one of us.” Dean motions to me and him.

Sam hurries to get in front of us, “No. I’m not like you. This is not going to be my life…no offense Y/N”

“It’s okay Sam no offense taken, this job isn’t so dreamy” I respond.

“You're on his side?!” Dean yells, turning towards me.

“I-I mean do you blame me? It’s his life! And if he wants to settle down and try to forget the things that go bump in the night then that’s his decision to make. Don’t you wish things could be different?” I argue back, dying down with my question.

“He has a responsibility to—“ Dean gets cut off by Sam now, “To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back.”

My heart aches for him, I understand what it’s like to lose a mother but at least I had time with her.

Then Dean grabs Sam by the collar and shoves him up against the railing of the bridge. “Don't talk about her like that.”

“Dean!” I shout out.

He releases Sam with a huff and walks away.

“Are you okay, Sam?” I ask

He nods but by the look on his face I can tell he’s frustrated.

“Y/N.Sam.” Dean alerted us, we moved to stand next to him seeing a pretty pale women in white with dark brown hair, Constance. She was on the edge of the bridge, and with one final look back at us she stepped off.

We run to the railing but see nothing.

“Where’d she go?” Dean asks no one in particular. “I don’t know” Sam responds while I add on “Freaky.”

The sudden roaring of an engine forces our attention behind us once more revealing it to be the Impala with its headlights also on. I whip my head towards Dean, double checking that he isn’t the one in the car.

“What the—“Dean starts

“Who's driving your car?”

Dean pulls the keys out of his pocket and jingles them. Sam glances down at them. The car suddenly jerks into motion, heading straight for us.

With no other speaking necessary, we turn and run.

“Go! Go!” I yell, panic running through me. But the car was moving faster than we were and it was all too close far too quickly.

Dean grabs hold of my wrist forcing us both on and over the railing of the bridge into the ice cold river, knowing I would never do such a thing willingly (even with the circumstances). Sam jumped over, right after us.

The river was, truthfully, more mud than water or at least that’s how it felt. I choke as I breach the surface, Dean’s firm grip on my wrist remaining making it easier to locate him as he pulls us both out and onto the riverbend.

“Dean? Y/N” Sam calls out, his voice coming from above meaning he hadn’t fallen into the river and wasn’t suffering like us, lucky bastard.

It’s only when we’re both standing, out of the river, do I realize just how bad we are. Mud cakes to every inch of my skin, forcing the clothes I was wearing to stick to me, and I knew that my hair would be a catastrophe to deal with.

I want to start crying, seriously.

“What?” Dean calls back

“Hey! Are you all right?” Sam asks the both of us. I watch Dean through an ‘ok’ hand sign along with an “I’m super” just as I hang my head down.

Sam laughs and I suddenly feel very compelled to go up there and throw him in the river so that he could suffer too.

Dean still kept a hand on my wrist all the way up until we were back to the Impala, immediately he went to check if Baby was okay.

He shuts the hood of the car and leans on it.

“Your car all right?” Sam asks him.

“Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems all right now. That Constance chick, what a bitch!” Dean complains.

“Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure. So where's the job go from here, genius?” Sam asked as he settled on the hood next to Dean while I prompted to stand knowing that if I sat I'd just feel the mud even more.

Dean throws up his arms in frustration, flicking mud off his hands.

Sam sniffs, then looks at Dean and I. “You guys smell like a toilet.”

“Alright I can't take this” I complained, moving to stand right in front of Dean. I slap a hand near his shoulder and begin a cleansing spell. The latin slips off my tongue as I catch my reflection on the car seeing my irises glowing purple, like they always do when I use my powers.

The mud, the icky-ness, and the smell vanish from the both of us as I finish the short spell. It’s definitely a weird feeling but far better than the feeling of mud being everywhere.

A sigh of relief comes from Dean as he covers my hand on his shoulder with his own, giving it a squeeze. “Thanks sweetheart”

“You’re welcome! Consider it a thanks for pulling me out of that mud-river.” I respond back cheerfully, eyes focused on Dean as I smile.

I feel Sam’s eyes going from me to Dean in an almost freaked out way.

“I didn’t know you could do that” He breathed

“If I sat here and listed everything I could do we’d be here for a hot minute” I smirked just a little pridefully.

“Two rooms, please.” Dean asks the motel clerk. By the time we got to a motel it was already morning so it was safe to say we all wanted a little break.

The Clerk picks up the card and looks at it. “Are you guys having a reunion or something?”

“What do you mean?” Sam asks as I look between both boys, also confused.

“I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought a room for the whole month.” The Clerk explains, and the realization hits us all.

John.

The motel door swings open, Sam having just picked the lock to John's room. Sam and I enter, complementing his criminal skills while Dean is just outside, playing lookout until I grab hold of his upper arm and pull him inside. Sam closing the door behind us.

Every surface has papers pinned to it like maps, newspaper clippings, pictures and notes. There’s books on the desk and assorted mess on the floor and bed. There’s a line of salt on the floor and half eaten food on the desk.

“I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least.” Dean informs sniffing a half eaten burger.

“Salt, cats-eye shells...he was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in.” Sam noted.

Dean looks at the papers covering one wall.

“What have you got here?” I ask, half looking at the junk on the bed.

“Centennial Highway victims.” He replies

The paper showed some of the victims including Mark somebody, William Durrell, Scott Nifong who disappeared in 1987 at age 25, and somebody Parks. Judging by the photos Mark, Durrell, and Nifong were all white males.

“I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs—ages, ethnicities. There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?” Dean asks to no one in particular

“Well it’s not always about the outward stuff could be something more personal in their life, maybe a sequence of events or just something as simple as an action” I inform.

“Dad figured it out” Sam detects, me and Dean turning to see him in front of papers on another wall. Something about Witches, demons, devils, and so on along with an article about the “Woman in White.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asks him

Sam clarifies, “He found the same article we did. Constance Welch. She's a woman in white.”

“You sly dogs…All right, so if we're dealing with a woman in white, Dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it.” Dean comments looking closer at the pictures of her victims while I get more distracted on the clippings about the witches, yes it hadn’t a thing to do with this hunt but I mean come on.

“She might have another weakness.” Sam suggests

“Well, Dad would want to make sure. He'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried?” Dean counters.

“No, not that I can tell. If I were Dad, though, I'd go ask her husband.”

“If he’s even alive, and he’d be sixty-two by now” I murmur, chiming in.

“All right. Why don't you guys, uh, see if you can find an address, I'm gonna go take a piss” Dean informs.

I scrunch my eyebrows as I say, “Have fun!”

Dean starts to walk away but he stops when Sam starts speaking, “Hey, Dean?…What I said earlier, about Mom and Dad, I'm sorry.”

Dean holds up a hand, “No chick-flick moments.”

Sam laughs and nods, “All right. Jerk.” It’s then that I knew that everything between them would be okay.

“Bitch” Dean calls back as he disappears into the bathroom.

I keep looking at the articles on the wall, reading more on Constance victims, but in the corner of my eye I see Sam smiling sadly at a photo he picked up from a mirror frame in the room.

A minute or so later Sam begins to pace the room before opting for sitting on the bed, with his phone to his ear

Dean exits the bathroom half shrugging on his jacket as he says, “Hey, man. I'm starving, I'm gonna grab a little something to eat in that diner down the street. Do either of you want anything?”

“No.” Sam answers plainly.

“Oooh! Can you get me some fries?” I ask, getting all excited for some food as I pull out my laptop from my messenger bag ready to find that address.

“Sure thing, baby.” He says throwing me that charming smile and a wink that causes my cheeks to flush. “You sure Sammy, Aframian's buying.”

But Sam shakes his head printing Dean to head out.

I’m just about to start searching on google when Sam stands up suddenly with panicked eyes.

“We have to go, now.”

Sam filled me in on the ride to Joseph Welch’s house, we had to keep going even with Dean arrested.

“Hi. Are you Joseph Welch?” Sam asks the older man

“Yeah.”

Sam had given him a photo, the one he got from the hotel mirror, as we followed Joseph down his cluttered driveway.

“Yeah, he was older, but that's him.” Joseph says, referring to John, handing the photo back.

“He came by three or four days ago. Said he was a reporter.”

“That's right. We're working on a story together.” Sam explains.

“Well, I don't know what the hell kinda story you're working on. The questions he asked me?”

“It’s an article about the understanding of young women committing suicide as a result of grief. We wanted to get all the details and even include a case that was more than 20 years old” I said cutting in, my experience as a journalist coming in handy.

“He asked me where she was buried” he deadpanned.

“I’m sorry Sir if our partner came off gruff and unsympathetic, and truly I hate to have to ask you again I mean I know this must still be difficult but where was she buried? It’d be helpful to know it again as a fact check because, as you can tell, our partner isn’t the best with people” I explain trying to come off the exact opposite way that John had.

“In a plot. Behind my old place over on Breckenridge.” He answered simply, only seeming a little bothered.

“And why did you move?” I ask.

“I'm not gonna live in the house where my children died,” he replied, I nodded at what he said.

Sam stops walking so I stop not knowing what he was getting at, Joseph then stops too.

“Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?” Sam pipes up.

“No way. Constance, she was the love of my life. Prettiest woman I ever known.” John reminisced.

“So you had a happy marriage?”

But Joseph hesitates for a beat then says, “Definitely”.

How convincing.

“Well, I think we got what we needed. Thank you, Mr.Welch, for your time and sorry again.” I concluded.

Sam and I turn to walk back to the Impala, but he pauses turning back towards Joseph who began to walk away.

“Mr. Welch, did you ever hear of a woman in white?”

Joseph pauses, turning around “A what?”

“A woman in white. Or sometimes weeping woman?” Sam clarifies.

But John doesn't respond.

“It's a ghost story. Well, it's more of a phenomenon, really. Um, they're spirits—“

“Sam, What are-“ but my point goes on deaf ears as Sam stalks towards Joseph.

“They've been sighted for hundreds of years, dozens of places, in Hawaii, Mexico, lately in Arizona, Indiana. All these are different women. But all share the same story.”

“Boy, I don't care much for nonsense.” Joseph says walking away but Sam remains insistent as he follows

“See, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them. And these women, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children.Then once they realized what they had done, they took their own lives. So now their spirits are cursed, walking back roads, waterways. And if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him. And that man is never seen again.” Sam goes on stopping Joseph in his tracks, getting his attention once more.

“You think...you think that has something to do with...Constance? You smartass!” He lectures Sam.

“You tell me.” Sam says, calmly.

“I mean, maybe...maybe I made some mistakes. But no matter what I did, Constance, she never would have killed her own children. Now, you get the hell out of here! And you don't come back!”Joseph yells one final time, shaking with anger or maybe grief.

Sam turns walking back towards me.

“That was good Sammy, seriously” I admire his blunt choice patting him on the back.

Sam’s driving when his phone rings, handing it to me to pick up. I put it on speaker phone as a familiar voice rings out.

“Fake 911 phone call? Sammy, I don't know, that's pretty illegal.” Dean laughs proudly.

“It was actually Y/N’s idea” Sam clears up.

“Eh what’s one more crime to the endless list?” I say smiling pridefully.

Dean laughs and it bubbles something inside me, something that’s been there for a long time.

But his laugh dies down and he goes serious,

“Listen, we gotta talk.”

“Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so that should have been Dad's next stop.” Sam informs Dean, catching him up.

“Sammy, would you shut up for a second?” Dean warns.

But Sam continues on, “I just can't figure out why Dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet.”

“Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you. He's gone. Dad left Jericho.” Dean spoke.

“What? How do you know?” I ask, beating Sam to the question I know he was about to ask.

“I've got his journal” Dean announces

“He doesn't go anywhere without that thing.” Sam pointed out.

“Yeah, well, he did this time.”

“What's it say?”

“Ah, the same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going” Dean informs.

“Coordinates. Where to?” Sam questions

“I'm not sure yet.”

“I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job? Dean, what the hell is going on?” Sam slams the brake causing the phone to fall out of my hand, I whip my head to Sam and then back to the road seeing Constance standing ahead of us, the car doesn't slow quick enough as we halt right as we go through her.

All of a sudden Constance is in the back seat saying “Take me home”

I yelp, having not expected her to just be in the back seat. Next to me Sam is breathing hard, looking at the ghostly women in the rear view mirror.

“Sam? Y/N? Y/N!

[notroosterbradshaw]

slow dancing in a burning room - five.one

word count: 4.5k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, angst. starting to get a bit rougher here, kids.

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

a/n: thanks to those who read, reblogged and commented on previous chapters. you’re doing god’s work. I know this series is a bit different to what you’re used to from me, so I hope you keep reading. I truly appreciate all the effort you make to show your support x

four.

You’d taken some time off to get Bradley settled into the apartment after the incident. He was quick to try and convince you he didn’t need a babysitter, unless you had ulterior motives to spend days at home alone together, and he wriggled his eyebrows in that way that would make you giggle and roll your eyes, it was all very over-the-top and romcom.

But he could admit, he needed you to help him with little things that hurt more than they should and you freely admitted, much to his chagrin, that you wouldn’t be able to concentrate with him at the apartment by himself if something happened.

Not surprisingly, he was stir-crazy after a few days which didn’t surprise either of you. Bradley Bradshaw did not know how to relax. He wasn’t big on vacations (he didn’t have a big friend group and could find a million reasons to prefer time to himself than be wrangled into stuff with his work friends). He freely confessed he was easily comfortable in his own company, but it was pretty evident quickly it was different when he was banged up and more or less under house arrest.

He'd powered through the book you’d hoped he’d enjoy in about three hours (he had to assure you he really enjoyed it so it was easy to scream through) so you relied on Amazon to deliver almost daily, channel surfed relentlessly, he was no good at binging TV and napped off and on through the day. But it simply came down to idle hands. Fine in his company on his own terms, but with strict orders to rest his head and give his body and mind time to heal – no gym, no running (nothing that he could exert himself with... including sex), no booze, no fun, he had reasoned – Bradley Bradshaw was figuratively climbing the walls. 

Physically, aside from a few bumps and bruises, he appeared absolutely fine, but he couldn’t lie and pretend his head wasn’t still splitting and much to your annoyance, he was resisting the painkillers as frequently as he could. What he was trying to prove, you weren’t sure, but it seemed unnecessary to continue the discomfort for the sake of it and you let him know gently each time he refused the pills you held to him.

“My body, I’ll choose what goes into it,” he told you with a tight-lipped smile, ignoring his lunchtime pills and bopping you on the nose instead.

“Okay,” was all you could shrug kindly. What else could you say and do? Anyone who had met Bradley knew he was no kind of pushover. He could have a certain gruffness, an agitation to him. Quiet and reflective if you didn’t know him, but he’d talk you under the table once he was comfortable with you.

But push him; he will resist. He’d said years ago if he had to put his life into a song it would be Corduroy by Pearl Jam, you understood it implicitly these days.

I'll take the varmint's path Oh, and I must refuse your test A-push me and I will resist This behaviour's not unique

You wandered in to find him cooking a few nights later, the waft from the front door absolutely delicious. You loved it, Bradley was a wonderful cook just like he proved he would be and you loved coming home to find him whipping something up in the kitchen.

He was one of those freaks who could watch a 90-second YouTube clip and figure out a recipe easily, inspired.

It infuriated you that he might have been a better cook than you were too but you would never tell him.

But God, you could get used to this, you realised. He hadn’t heard you come in (you snuck in quietly without fanfare after you’d walked into him dozing a few times that you didn’t want to interrupt just in case he was getting some well-deserved zzz’s). You carefully wrapped your arms around him, feeling him jolt in surprise before chuckling quietly. You kissed between his shoulder blades over his tank, he gave a quiet moan in response and he reached back for you. “I’m home, sweetheart.”

“Welcome home, love,” he said, turning to face you. The cuts on his face were well on their way to healing, but the purple rims around his honey-drenched eyes from lack of sleep overnight were evident. You didn’t know why he wasn’t sleeping and weren’t comfortable asking him yet. He certainly wasn’t complaining of being tired but he didn’t mention each morning that he was staying up all hours.

His palms held your cheeks and kissed you gently, a series of loving pecks. “Missed you today,” you admitted. You quite enjoyed coming home to him and you hoped he agreed. This moving in with a boy wasn’t too bad in all honesty. Not one that cooked, was incredibly tidy and about the sexiest man you’d ever met... that happened to be as infatuated with you as you were with him.

“Me too,” he smiled, his lips kissing the arch of your brow.

“What are you making me for dinner tonight, Chef Bradshaw?” you peered under his arm as you saw your large pot with a rolling boil of water.

“Vodka pasta,” he said. “With a glass of wine?” he asked hopefully.

“Sorry baby, but you gotta be patient a few more days until the doc gives you the green light, okay?”

He groaned. “There are too many OK’s I’m waiting for…” he muttered, a little restless. Maybe a bit petulant.

“I know,” you snuggled into him, your fingers tracing the elastic waist around his basketball shorts.

“I only really want one OK though. Just a tender green light,” he whispered, urging his hips forward to rest against yours. “Miss you, just wanna fuck so bad,” he whined.

You offered him a careful smile but didn’t answer. What could you say? You knew he was downplaying the pain in his ribs still, and his headaches weren’t vanishing as quickly as he’d like regardless of the multitude of ways you’d been fantasising about how he could please you while you couldn’t be intimate for now.

You’d offered a blow job here and there, and he appreciated the offer, but he admitted it wouldn’t satisfy him the way being tangled up with you could. “Whatcha get up to today?”

He raised a wary eyebrow at your abrupt change of topic, kind of hating being left hanging when you’d normally have fallen into some sexy banter with him that would always lead to something even more risqué. He sighed silently and turned back to the stovetop while you gave him space and propped yourself on the bench while he tasted the simmering sauce. “Netflix. Went for a run – ”

“Bradley – ” you tried as you saw his brawny, tanned shoulders tense.

“Love, please don’t. I needed the run – clear my head a bit,” he explained, not looking at you.

Okay. “Did you have the Telehealth with the shrink?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said quietly, a gentle nonchalant shrug creasing his features.

“Go okay?”

He turned back and sighed, resting his big hands on his slender hips, exasperated. “I just don’t wanna do the shrink, okay?” he confessed. “Please don’t give me a hard time about this.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, but he stared back, daring you. He knew you had something to say but he had years of trauma to work through and you weren’t surprised that he really didn’t want to go back to the start and overanalyse every horrible thing that had happened in his life again. Who could blame him? “I don’t blame you,” you conceded. “I know it sucks to feel so on display like that. Raw. But you and I both know it’s for the best.”

He hummed, but there was nothing pleasant about it, it was almost a growl. “You’ve had years of therapy… tell me honestly,” he straightened and guided you to the corner of the bench, where he pressed between your thighs, his hands massaging your quads, keeping you in place, well and truly trapped by his presence.

“What?” you asked softly, his imposing frame hovering over you.

“Tell me if the shrink is going to bring my parents back, or if it’s going to make my job any easier,” he watched your face so sternly and a dark sneer rose as your jaw gaped gently. He hummed, already pleased at your reaction.

Well, that was blunt.

“Bradley – ” you tried.

“No, really. I need to know. You come home once a week quiet and disillusioned after your session. I am watching you work through your issues, but really… what has it truly fixed? How has it healed you, love?” he asked, probing deeper. “You still refuse to talk to your dad, the mere mention of him upsets you – ”

“Bradley, please…” It wasn’t about you this time.

“My dad died when I was four, I barely remember it or any trauma from that time. All I recognise is the sympathy I get every time someone mentions me being Goose Bradshaw's kid. I’m nearly fuckin’ 40.”

“Yes, Bradley – ”

“I haven’t finished,” he muttered. “I watched my mother die when I was 17 and moved on with my life. I do things in my job that make me proud and shatter me all at the same time, but I still function every day. I know the weapons I use cause more damage than good, no matter what the leaders of this country say. No matter what my superiors tell me about the honourable peacekeeping I’m supposedly doing. Why can’t I just process these things on my own?” his voice was so even, you were finding it hard to meet his eyes. “I think I have done a fuckin’ great job to now.”

“Because you love what you do – ” You tried to remind him of the stipulations made to get him back in the air. Ribs healed, mental health functioning well. In the greater scheme of things, it made total sense he’d have those hoops to jump through.

“Why does someone else get to decide if I’m mentally fit to get back in my jet? That person knows nothing about me. Nothing about my childhood, school, college… Mav. Not how in love with you I am, how someone else now gets to dictate if we’re intimate – which is also killing me,” he added for good measure. In himself, he knew he was perfectly capable to please you, but each advance was delicately refused and while he knew you were only doing what the doctor ordered – he hoped – it was starting to eat at him too that you were keeping your distance. He volunteered to repeatedly go down on you, but you told him you were okay and looking forward to moments you could share together, just like him. He accepted that, but just because he couldn’t be pleasured didn’t mean he wanted you to go without too. It was a woeful cycle.

“I know, sweetheart. I miss you too.”

“I could just have you right here… I feel fine, and you feel so fine to me,” he whispered against your jaw, nose nuzzling your pulse. “But you’re just like them at the moment. You see that I’m still me. I’m healthy. My body is healing… but you’re resisting too,” he said, retracting his body steadily and moving back to the stove, checking the sauce as you recoiled, immediately missing his touch.

He had far too much time to think about things, with or without the shrink’s help.

“Bradley, just give your body the time it needs,” you tried although the way his body rescinding like that made you feel bitterly cold. You missed his warmth quickly.

“It’s in right working order,” he snapped your name. “I’m fucking fine and I don’t need a bunch of lab-coated douchebags, or you, to tell me different.”

You held your hands up, slipping off the counter. “Okay, okay,” you stood down… on many fronts. You walked to him and bunched his tank at the chest in your palms and brought his lips to yours. “I’m sorry. I see that you’re doing really well. You’re the best judge here.”

“Thank you,” he said softly. “I need you to hear me, love,” he pleaded, bobbing to rest his forehead against yours. “No one else seems to.”

Hearing a knock at the door, you gave Rooster a quizzical look and he gave a small smile. “I invited someone to dinner.”

“Better not be my dad...” you muttered as he shook his head, a weak, apologetic call on his lips.

“Of course not,” he pulled himself from you and stood to height, heading for the door as you poured yourself a cool glass of water, even if a half dozen tequilas seemed more appropriate. You’d been home ten minutes and your nerves were fucking fried. You clutched the sink, trying to centre yourself and upon hearing your name, you looked up at Bradley as he stood side-by-side, mountaining over the man that made his life miserable all those years ago.

“Maverick, hi,” you managed to say, biting back the choking feeling in your throat as he gave a slight wave and presented you with a half dozen burnt orange roses. They were beautiful and Bradley grinned at the gesture.

“Been a while,” he said softly and if age wearied him, he was certainly showing it. “What’s it been? Fifteen years or so?”

You shrugged, a little shellshocked, gazing at Bradley who was very interested in his tanned bare feet suddenly. “Could be…”

“How’s your grandpa?”

“He’s good. Usual Viper,” you supposed as Mav nodded.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Maverick said as Bradley joined you, resting his palms on your waist as he held you from behind. ��So, you weren’t kidding, kid. You two are very much together.”

“This is the love of my life, Mav,” he pressed a kiss into your hair as you pushed through with your smile, hoping it didn’t appear as confused as it was feeling and Maverick smiled, fondly. “Love, Mav is here for dinner if that’s okay with you?” 

“Yeah, of course,” you said, forcing the affirmative into your voice.

Where the fuck had this come from?

“I appreciate the invite,” Maverick said.

“It’s no problem,” Bradley spoke up

“I guess I’ll set the table…” you loosened Bradley’s grip and thought maybe, just maybe… you were going to need that wine to get through the night. “Mav, can I get you a drink?” you asked politely.

“I’ll just stick to water,” he replied.

Fuck.

“No problem,” you said, pulling away from Bradley to collect some glasses and busy yourself elsewhere.

“Bet you’re glad to have Bradley home?” Maverick asked as you collected the crockery. He held his hands out, hoping to help you. You let him, the room was far too small for a snarky comment not to be heard by all. Not to let Bradley feel your discomfort.

You gave a kind smile and contemplated your answer. “Of course. But I suppose not in these circumstances.”

He nodded faintly. “I understand. I want you to know I did everything I could up there to keep him safe – ”

“Mav,” Bradley cut in. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything.”

“I guess it could have been a lot worse,” you agreed, and that tone of seeped through. Fuck it, you said. They might not have been drinking, but you were going to make this discomfort a little easier on yourself at least and went to the fridge for the bottle of rose you’d been resisting, not wanting to drink around Bradley while he was recommended not to.

“Good drop,” Mav said, calmly. He could feel the air around you – the confusion, the hurt. He knew Bradley probably hadn’t told you everything – regardless of what was classified or not. Bradley had said there were no secrets between you, he had told Mav how in love with you he was on the way home, evacuated to safety. Maverick wouldn’t leave Bradley’s side, regardless of his orders. He was going to make sure Bradley made it back to dry land, safe and sound.

Feeling a hand on your hip, Bradley tenderly kissed your temple. “Grub’s up, love. Take a seat, I’ll stand.”

The apartment was just not conducive for three. No room for a dining table, you generally ate together on the couch or at the counter on the stools when an effort was made. “No,” you reassured him, softening as he smiled at you, his palms cupping your jaw before he lightly kissed you. “I’ll stand.”

Bradley came to bed lightly later that night. You’d left him and Mav to chat for a while, before excusing yourself at a reasonable time to shower and take your leave. In your PJs, you had moved on to your book, what you were reading you weren’t quite processing, your head dizzy with your distraction. Each time you heard a laugh you felt more confused than before.

Pete Mitchell was in your apartment. And he’d been willingly invited by Bradley Bradshaw. When had this narrative changed?

“Lovvve,” he drawled, crawling into bed with you. He crept his body over yours, not daring to sneak between the sheets. “Thank you for tonight,” he pressed sweet kisses into your forehead, temple and finally the tip of your nose. He wriggled his thighs between yours and took your book, tossing it towards the bedside table – its crash suggesting it well and truly missed it, bookmark be damned.

“Hmm,” you replied, but he knew it was a more put-off sound as he chuckled quietly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sure seems it,” you replied.

“No, really. I’m sorry,” he said with a little more sincerity, but the fond grin and dancing eyes told the story. “Kiss me,” he whispered, nudging his nose with yours.

“Why didn’t you tell me Mav was coming over tonight?” you blurted out before his lips touched yours and he paused, jerking back slightly. “I didn’t think you could stand him.”

You searched his face. You could see his brain working and trying to find an excuse that would appease you. And when he said to you, “We’re trying to work on our relationship,” you almost pushed him off you. He had you pinned for a reason but sadly for you, he was under the microscope.

“What happened for anything to change? A month ago, you were dreading him as your CO… now your buds again? My brain can’t even compute the venom you’ve spat at him and then he’s in my kitchenette for dinner and I have to pretend he hasn’t hurt you - ”

“Our kitchenette,” Bradley correctly you gently. “I live here too, remember?”

Sighing, you ran your thumb against the faint gash healing on his neck and his eyes fluttered closed, sweetly. “Yes…” you corrected yourself. “Our kitchenette. But I still need some warning about stuff like this, roomie.”

He nodded. “Okay, you’re right. I fucked up there.”

“What happened for everything to change between you and Mav?”

He sighed and rolled to your side, his thigh still curled over yours. “It isn’t that simple.”

“Then spell it out to me. Because tonight over dinner, you two were as thick as thieves. You hardly missed a beat.”

He gave a gentle smile but his eyes begged for mercy. “Do we have to do this right now?”

“Well, I could have asked when he appeared three hours ago, but I figured that may have embarrassed you both,” the sarcasm dripped from your tongue and you were trying so hard to remain calm.

“That’s fair,” he had to admit. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t give you any warning. That was wrong of me.”

“It’s just a fuckin’ text, Bradley,” you sniped quietly.

He nodded. “You’re right, I should have at least given you that much.”

“I felt like a complete idiot. You gave me no time to prepare.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, you handled it beautifully,” Bradley laughed quietly at the grimace that shrouded your face and his face softened as he kissed your temple. “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. I’ll be more considerate of inviting guests.”

“It’s got nothing to do with guests,” you pursed your lips together, the fever burning under the surface of your skin simmering as you closed your eyes a moment and you felt Bradley move to his pillow. “It’s Mav. Singular. One guest.”

You looked at him as he crossed his legs; for a moment, you wondered if you’d gone too hard. He wasn’t angry, he was passive, and that might have made you more furious. “He helped raise me when Dad died. He tried to after mom died.”

“And he pulled your papers from the Academy. I know all this.”

“He told me he pulled my papers because I wasn’t ready to trust my instincts. I was too reliant on the rules and unprepared to break them if need be.”

Remaining quiet, you willed him to go on.

“Before I left, I know I was the worst to you. My moods were deplorable, I was a fucking asshole to you. And I wasn’t lying when I say Mav got to me every single day. The night Phoenix and Bob were caught in the bird strike…” he sighed. “I fuckin’ laid into him. I didn’t tell you. It just came out, I guess compounded with everything else that had happened that day. I wanted to take his goddamn head off, I hadn’t seen red like that in years. And I remember coming home and taking it out on you, my sweet girl,” he frowned sadly. “I should have been able to handle my business better and not take it out on the one person that I love most in this world. I don’t know why you stay by my side, because I know I’m hard to contend with…”

Sighing, you rolled over to face him, twirling a loose tendril that curled above his brow. “Think you’re the first grumpy flyboy I’ve ever dealt with?” you asked fondly as he flushed a little. “I just want you to be okay. And you’re only a few weeks away from returning to desk duty. But you know you need to go through the motions. Don’t take it out on me, they aren’t my rules.”

“I know,” he dropped his eyes. “I shouldn’t be lashing out, I’m just so frustrated.”

“Trust me, I know.” 

“The shrink thing is really bothering me,” he confided quietly.

“I know, sweetheart,” you pressed your thumb into his temple before scootching closer and wrapping your arms around his shoulder, cradling him tenderly in your arms. He breathed in your body wash, grounding himself. “You’ll get through this. I’ll be right there beside you.”

“Thank you,” he murmured quietly against your chest. His lips pressed against your tee until you could feel the sweet kisses against your jaw… then pulse. His large hands circled your waist, dragging you to him. You so badly wanted to resist, but he was so warm, smelled so good and felt so strong against you. “I love you.”

He nuzzled to your lips, those first slow steps of how to make you come undone. “Bradley…” you warned. He hummed in reply, but it was a dare. He was willing you to ask him to stop but resistance was futile as his long fingers walked under your nightshirt, grasping the meat of your hip and pushing his thigh between yours, opening you to him, his kiss relentless.

“Feel good?” he asked softly. He was desperate for you. He hadn’t felt so pent up since he was a stupid horny kid. He didn’t know how frustrated he could feel until the option for intimacy was snatched away from him. Your diligence to stay true to the doctor's orders was obscene to him. He didn’t realise how by the book you could be… from him, an irony.

And it had been so hard for you to resist him – your beautiful boy deserved to be loved but every time he touched you, you were positive you’d hurt him. And while he was healing, he still needed time, something he was unwilling to apprehend when he felt fine in himself.

Fine.

Fine.  

“You’re resisting,” he muttered, his tongue tracing your lips. There was a tension in his voice, it was subtle, but you could feel it to your bones. “Why are you holding back?”

You sighed and pulled back a little. His frown clouded his handsome face and he huffed, rolling back to his pillow and staring hard at the roof above him. “Come on, it’s only another few weeks, sweetheart.”

He rubbed his face. “Jesus Christ, don’t you think I’m the best judge of my body?”

“Of course – ”

“Since I’ve gotten home, you’ve looked at me like I’m I should be wrapped in cotton wool. You won’t touch me, you won’t kiss me, am I that hideous to you?”

You sat up, a little insulted. “Bradley, no of course not – ”

“Christ, when did you decide I was so repulsive to you? I’ve always had these scars, you know,” he hissed, his tone sharp. “I knew you hated them.”

“Bradley, my God, you’re spiralling. What are you talking about?” you reached for him, but he moved wide from your touch. This man beside you, Bradley... he was reaching. You were only trying to be considerate of his injuries - 

“Can’t we just fuck? Jesus Christ. If you don’t want to be with me, just fuckin’ say it already.”

“Hey, hey,” you said softly, cowering on yourself. “I just don’t want to hurt you. I'm sorry, Bradley,” you said meekly. “There is no other reason – ”

“I said I feel fine. It’s a few bruises. Why won’t you fuckin’ touch me? I come near you, and you find every excuse under the sun to get away from like me.”

“That’s not true – ”

“Like hell it isn’t.”

“I don’t mean to, I’m just so scared to…” you replied.

He pulled his shirt off, a large, long bruise still over his right pectoral. You’d guessed it was from the seatbelt shunting him back into his seat when the jet -

When the jet crashed. When he could have died. 

“Please baby, I need to feel you. Please don’t be scared of me,” he begged.

“I’m not scared of you, Bradley,” you told him, moving closer and kissing his bruised though soft skin. He moaned immediately and laced his fingers into your hair. It was a reaction he couldn’t stop, even as he seethed at the same time.

“Then don’t be scared for me, either,” he urged, though the softness in his voice returned from your familiar kiss. “I’m really fuckin’ good at what I do.” The double meaning in his tone told you. “I’ll always come home to you.”

And while you believed it because he was with you right now, that was all that mattered regardless of his to tell you the whole story of what happened that day to get him (and you) stuck in this predicament.

hiatus.

masterlist.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

[cas-skz]

CURE FOR LONELINESS

Wooyoung x fem!reader

After the death of your father, you find comfort in a new member of his motorcycle club. Despite your uncles warnings, you can’t get enough of him.

| motorcycle gang au! | friends to lovers |

18+!! plz&thnx MDNI!!

Warnings: mentions of parent loss. mentions of a gunshot. lots of smut. chocking. unprotected sex. creampie. mouth fucking.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

writers note: this is basically brain rot that I’ve been working on for a couple of days. It’s safe to say I’m whipped stop it for Woo.

Enjoy!! cas xx

The club house was covered in a haze of smoke, loud laughter and chatting almost overtook the music playing. You stood behind the bar, quickly pouring out drinks for the gentlemen.

“Hey, Y/N! Can you go to the back and tap another keg?” Ana asked from down the bar.

You nodded, heading to the back and switching the hose to a new keg. You leaned up on the chair, tighten the screw when you suddenly felt hands on the back of your thigh, trailing up to the underline of your bum.

“You look good at this angle.” Woo cooed as one hand slipped between your legs, sending a chill up your spine.

His hand moved slowly, cupping your clothed pussy, his large fingers slowly sliding along your clit.

You bit your lip hard, trying to hold back your moan. “We can’t…” you say quietly, shoving his hand away as you jumped off the chair.

His arms caught you, pulling your hips into his. “Everyone’s too busy to notice.” Woo smirked, his breathe hot and liquor scented. His lips moved to your neck, where he placed soft wet kisses from your jaw to your ear. “Come on babes, I miss you.”

You could feel how hard Woo was thought his pants, his hands roamed your body as his lips worked on your neck, teeth nipping at your skin.

You practically grew up in the motorcycle club, your dad being a former president until he passed away. Your uncle has taken over his position, and Woo had joined a few weeks after.

You lost count of how many times your uncle told you to not get involved with him. You figured it was just to protect you, but the loneliness that came with grief had started a friendship with Woo, that turned into filling the emptiness with sex.

You couldn’t help but give in to him, a soft moan escaping your lips. You pushed him back a little, turning to quickly close and lock the door to the keg room. “You have 10 minutes.” You smirk, backing him into the chair and straddle his lap.

“I only need 5 with you.” Woo whispered, his lips roughly pressing into yours. You both quickly pulled your pants down just enough to have access, the red tip of his cock ran gently across your clit before deeply pushing inside.

Woo’s hand wrapped easily around your neck, squeezing as you leaned back, your hips slamming into his. “So tight,” he hissed, his other hand resting on your hip, both hands digging hard into your skin.

Your moans started to get louder as you felt your peak rapidly approaching, Woo’s cock slamming deep inside you.

You both came to a sudden stop when a gunshot ran out, the sound of fighting getting louder. You jumped off Woo’s lap, quickly pulling up your leggings as he did his pants, Woo placed another rough kiss on your lips. “I’m not done with you.”

You readjusted yourself before quickly rushing back to the bar, peeking around the corner as a group of men wrestled and another laughed at them. Of course it was a dumb false alarm, but everything had to be taken seriously.

The rest of the night felt slow. You and Woo occasionally would catch each others attention, practically eye fucking from different sides of the room.

“I’ll clean up Ana, you head out. Looks like you have your hands full.” You laugh, nodding your head towards her husband who was slumped over a table.

The crowd had cleared out, the members who were passed out being left behind. You had finished cleaning and had made your way to the back to start the dishwasher.

Woo’s hands creeped around your waist and his lips found their way to your neck again. “You look good as a house wife.”

You laugh, tilting your head slightly to give him more access to your neck. His hand slipped into your leggings, his fingers instantly finding your clit. “You’re soaking.” Woo purred, removing his hand and quickly shoving your pants down.

He spun you around quickly, lust filled eyes meeting each other as he kissed you gently, letting it linger before biting and pulling your lip.

“Woo, someone could walk in.” You say as your eyes follow him, lowering himself to your core. He propped your leg up on his shoulder, two fingers running along your clit before pushing inside. “Let them” Woo smirked, his tongue finding your clit.

You balled your hand in his dark hair, moaning his name as his tongue swirled and sucked at your bud, his fingers pumped your hole slowly.

“More” You beg, your eyes rolling back as his hand picked up speed. It didn’t take Woo very long to make you cum, quiet curses leaving your lips as your eyes fell back down to meet his.

His fingers worked their way from your entrance to your mouth, sliding in as your tongue swirled to collect your wetness. Woo’s lips found yours next, deeply kissing as his hands quickly swooped you up.

“You may look good in a kitchen, but I can’t fuck you properly in one.” He laughed, throwing you over his shoulder with ease.

“Hey!” You giggle, wiggling a bit in his grip as his hand slapped down on your ass. He practically threw you on his bed, the soft silk sheets cold under your body.

Woo quickly threw his shirt off, then tugged yours off. His eyes scanned your naked body, as he hovered over you. “You’re a work of art.”

You roll your eyes at him, your hand slowly sliding down his chest and abs, “says you” you say, your finger slowly tugging at his jeans. “Off”

Woo quickly pecked your lips as he climbed off the bed to kick his pants off and you crawled to your knees, leaving him a spot to sit.

You shoved his legs apart as you crawled up the bed towards his length, hands gently cupping and messaging his balls before wrapping around the base. “Surprised you held it this long.” You teased, bringing your lips to his red tip and gently sucking the leaking precum.

You worked your mouth down his shaft, tongue gliding from side to side as you took his full length into your mouth, gagging as you felt your reflux being hit. “Fuck, such a good girl.” Woo hissed.

Bobbing your head slowly, you look up to lock eyes with him once again. Woo brushed some hair from your face, using the same hand to control your head movements. His hips bucked up as you let out another gag, spit flying from the sides of your mouth as he pulled you roughly towards him. “You’re all fucking mine. You got that.”

“This pretty little mouth.” He said slowly, pulling you in for a kiss. “Mine.” He repositioned you both, laying you down on your back, his legs pushing yours apart as he trailed kisses to your breasts. Sucking slowly at the nipple. His lips and teeth worked to leave purple bruises on both breast, “Mine.”

Butterflies and tingles rang throughout your body. A feeling you hadn’t felt in year suddenly making you feel shy. “Stop” you laugh, placing a hand in his chest. “You can’t have me.” You teased.

Woo shook his head smirking, taking your hand and kissing your palm, down your wrist and to your neck. “Says who?” He whispered into your ear, his warm breath sending a chill down your spine. The tip of his cock started to rub slowly through your folds and over your clit.

Your nails dug deep into his back as he thrusted deeply inside, bottoming out as his lips found yours again. You couldn’t help but whimper and squirm slightly as your walls contacted around his still length. “Woo…” you gasp as his hips started to move ever so slowly.

“Just say it…” he whispers, bringing his lips to yours to kiss you deeply. He slowly slid his cock almost fully out before slamming it back inside you. “Say your mine.”

Woo’s lips continued to moved slowly against yours, his thrusts driving you crazy from how slow he was going. Everything felt electric, your body shook with pleasure, your mouth parting slightly as you curse loudly.

He started to pick up his pace, his hand wrapping around your neck as he looked deeply into your eyes.

Your hand gripped around his wrist, fingers gripping into his skin as you felt your walls start to contact, hips bucking as it quickly approached.

His smile is what did it. It drove you over the edge. You arched off the bed, his hand moving from your neck to the small of your back as you road out your orgasm. “Yours. All yours.”

Your lips found each other again, deeply kissing as he pulled you up, one hand in your hair and the other on your waist. You could feel his cock start to twitch as you came down, “fuck…” Woo cursed, pulling you in close and hiding in the nook of your neck. His body shook with yours as you felt his cum shoot deeply inside you.

You both held each other close, lips moving softly in unison. Woo pulled away a bit, cupping your face. “I’m gonna protect you. I’m gonna make sure you’re safe, that you’re happy.” He pecked your lips ever few words.

“You mean it?” You ask sincerely, leaning into his hand.

Woo nodded, smiling down at you. “I do. I promise.”

His limp member grew hard again inside you as his lips moved softly against yours. You rocked your hips slowly with his, your already filled pussy dripping down the sides of his thick cock.

Woo laid back on the bed, his cock bottoming out as you adjusted yourself on top. Your hands rested on his abs and you rode his cock, legs twitching from the overstimulation. “Come here. I want to hold you.” he hummed.

You rested your weak body on his chest as his hips thrusted upwards into you rapidly, arms wrapped tightly around you. Your nails dug into his chest as you cursed and moaned, your eyes flicking up to look at him, who’s eyes were on you.

Woo flashed his sweet smile again, pulling you towards him to kiss your lips. You felt his cock start to twitch and firm inside of you, his warm cum filling your insides again. It threw you into your own orgasm, body shaking again as he slammed a few last thrusts into you.

The kiss softened as he pulled out, a pair of muffled moans mixed in between. You slid up a bit more on Woo, feeling your combined juices leaking out as you deepened the kiss.

His fingers ran up and down your spine as you settled onto his chest, your breathing calming and eyes fluttering closed. You still has butterflies and tingles running through your body.

You sighed softly as reality set back in, and you realized where you were. The two of you usually just went at each other in different hiding spots. The late night conversations you had were spent on the roof.

You started to move, but Woo’s arms pulled you back. “Don’t go…” he whispered, “Please…stay with me.” He kissed the top of your head as you settled back down, listening to his heart beat.

After a while, the two of you finally pulled yourselves from the bed, Woo guiding you to the bathroom and into the shower. You giggled and kissed the whole time, Woo not taking his eyes off yours as the hot water washed over you both.

It had been so long since you felt sincere happiness and while it scared you, it also made you feel human again.

Exiting the shower, Woo quickly wrapped you both in a towel, drying you off first before himself. You skipped back to the bedroom, grabbing Woo’s shirt from the ground and throwing it on before jumping into bed. Woo joined seconds later, getting himself comfortable before pulling you in close. He placed kisses on top of your head, his hand rubbing your arm gently.

“Does this mean we’re dating?” Woo asked,

You looked up at him, poking his nose and smiling, “I think you have to take me on an actual date for us to be dating.” You teased.

Woo laughed, squeezing you gentle. “Well, what are you doing tomorrow?”

“Waking up in a cute guys bed.” You yawned.

“And going on a date with him?”

“And going on a date with him.” You confirm.

[haravath0t]

||𝔗𝔥𝔢 ℭ𝔥𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔪𝔞𝔰 ℭ𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔦𝔠𝔩𝔢𝔰:

ℜ𝔢𝔵 ℑ𝔫𝔠𝔬𝔤𝔫𝔦𝔱𝔬 ||

𝚣𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚒 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒂𝒏𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑨𝒅𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒓 - 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝟽

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : ̗̀➛ a spin off of the tale of the lone glaze lily; zhongli is taking another walk around liyue, recalling the voice of his goddess. it is only when you come with him to dinner that he cannot shake off the sight of his late songbird.

☕🤍🌿 𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚗'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 ! 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 ! ☕🤍🌿

He couldn’t believe it, his heartstrings were being pulled as you sang away at the Pearl Galley. Everyone’s eyes, including the former archon, were on you. It is only when your director had introduced you to this famed consultant that you two had seemed to hit it off right away. Zhongli and you had a connection that had grown with ease, grown like a blooming flower. He was as knowledgeable as all have said, and he was a fantastic listener. You always thought it was so embarrassing, feeling sometimes like you were talking for way too long before he reassures you with a “No, please. I’m listening.” He always had a soft smile on his face as he listened to you. It was clear he’s grown fond of you as you have grown fond of him, caring for you like you care for him.

But you didn’t know what has always run through his mind after being with him for a year, knowing him for three. He noted how your voice was similar to her, that your eyes, your smile, you laugh…it was all pointing back to her. As you walked alongside Zhongli through the harbor, watching the Xiao lanterns rise in the sky and blend with the stars above, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. Tears formed in his eyes as you smiled with glee, the childlike look of content that had burst from your own mortal being only reminded him of the very same glee she had expressed to the Liyue of the past. It was then that he had realized:

She is you. You are her. His songbird.

The very epiphany hits him like a rock, undeniably worse than the stones he has hurled during the war, seeing you now eagerly sit at Third Round Knockout beside him rather than across, wanting to hug his arm as you two await the food that is to come.

“You’re quite eager,” Zhongli notes with a smile, chuckling a bit as your head is seen nuzzling against his coat for warmth.

“I think I have every reason to, right?” You tease with a grin, your eyes meeting his own. You cannot help but note the tears on his eyes, those beautiful amber orbs that always seemed to show how much you shined to him, as though you were as golden as Mora.

“You do,” he finally concedes, finding himself unusually bashful at how intimate this felt. An intimacy he has not felt for centuries, has now returned, and in what better way than you? He couldn’t find anything else to say, his heart feels like it’s being squished, but before he exerts even more effort, you stop him, gently playing with the tresses of his brown hair. “I have been blessed,” Zhongli whispers, as though in an exhale of relief. There it was, your touch. Though memories of what you looked like began to erode in his mind as hard as he tries to cling to it, the very touch, the very love you have given him as Morax, has now cracked through the erosion of time, as though it had been brought back to its prime.

“Oh, my dear.” He whispers quietly into your head, a volume that only indicated that it was meant for your ears. You cannot help but smile even more, grinning ear to ear as he held your waist now, as though in a desperate grasp.

“You little sap, you’re going to make me cry too!” You whisper, laughing a bit as you indulge in his embrace, loving the warm that he has brought to you, body and mind.

You have taken his breath away. Your touch, your confidence, your care, your smile. Oh, how it all relieves him. It has become his first impactful experience as a mortal, feeling as though he was the one being blessed rather than the one giving the blessings himself. It had felt as though fate has allowed him a second chance, a chance at love and a chance at achieving the peace he has long craved.

With you, his Songbird.

[deancaskiss]

whisper your name without making a noise

Happy November 5th, yall! It’s time for a fix-it fic for 15x18 with all the angst, feels, and fluff (and maybe a little deancas kissing too)! I hope yall will love this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it! 

Word Count: 12.5k

Summary: 

Losing Cas to the Empty felt like Dean was losing a piece of himself. I love you, Cas had said; and then he was gone before Dean got the chance to tell Cas how he felt. But Cas might have taken more than just Dean’s heart when the Empty ripped him away. Cas is gone, and so is Dean’s voice. Traumatic mutism: according to Sam and Eileen, Dean had been through a traumatic experience losing Cas and now he was mute. So, Eileen taught Dean sign language, and Sam bought notebooks for Dean to write out his thoughts. But Dean never stopped aching for Cas; praying to him every day and searching for a way to bring Cas home. When Dean finds a way into Empty, it’s a fight like he’s never fought before. Scream, Dean, scream, the Empty taunts. But Dean can’t stop until he’s rescued Cas, kissed his angel breathless, and told Cas the truth about how he feels—voice or no voice.

Read the first section below the cut, and check out the rest of the fic on ao3!

It started with the sobs. The kind where shoulders shake and lungs seize; breath catching over and over again as tears burn trails down cheeks. The scream built up in Dean’s chest, ready to ricochet off the dungeon walls and into the abyss that the Empty left behind.

No sound came out though. No agonized scream. No piercing anguish. Just a torrent of tears and a rattling shake throughout Dean’s entire body.

And maybe that was all Dean deserved. Because there was no noise, no sound, no words that could portray the ache of losing Cas.

Dean turned his body into the cold wall, thrashing his fists against the sharp brinks until his knuckles stung and the bricks turned copper red; silently screaming until his throat hurt.

But there was no noise.

Dean’s lips formed Cas’ name over and over again; a mantra, a prayer, a false hope for something, anything.

But nothing came.

Not Cas. Not his voice. Not the Empty.

Minutes bled into hours, and Dean’s throat felt hoarse, even without a single noise falling from his mouth. As if the sobs had scratched and clawed their way up from his chest, from his heart, cut open and pouring red on the ground.

Red like blood.

Red like love.

Red like the handprint drying on Dean’s shoulder.

The image blurred from Dean’s vision, fingerprints merging into little red splotches shaped like hearts, and Dean tore the jacket off, throwing it across the room as he opened his mouth to scream again. Another surge of anger tore through him when he still couldn’t verbalize Cas’ name.

A second later, Dean dragged his knees across the ground, scraping open a hole in his jeans as he scrambled to grab the jacket again, holding it against his chest. Maybe, if he just stayed here long enough… maybe Cas would fight his way back. Back from the Empty once again. Back to Dean.

Because this couldn’t be the end.

They couldn’t end here. Not like this.

Not after everything they’d been through; when they could be so much more.

Dean waited for what felt like a millennia. Waited for Cas to come striding back into the dungeon, proclaiming they had unfinished business between them.

Because they did.

Because Cas didn’t give him a chance to think, to react, to say his piece, too.

But, as time slipped by, and Dean’s voice continued to fail him, he knew it was too late.

Cas was gone.

Not coming back.

And Sam and Jack were still out there. Still fighting Chuck.

And maybe that was Dean’s only hope. Chuck was still out there. And maybe, just maybe, if they won they fight, he could get Cas back. And he could tell Cas… he’d tell him… well, maybe he wouldn’t be able to say anything with his voice failing him. But he could show Cas, with just one touch.

There was still a war to fight.

And goddammit. Dean wasn’t stopping until he won his angel back. Screw the rest. He just needed Cas. That was all he wanted.

And maybe his voice, too.

Just so he could say three little words out loud for Cas to hear.

~

[Read the rest on ao3]

[jawritter]

My Brother’s Keeper

Chapter 10 Final Chapter... for this year anyway....

Summary: Y/N, Sam’s roommate, so far have a pretty good thing going. Both work and function around one another well. What happens when his big brother comes down for the holidays with his mysterious past, mixed with Sam’s own mysterious previous life? Can Y/N and the grumpy older brother find a way to get along? Or will it be a not so happy holidays at the Winchester house?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Sized!Reader x Sam

Word Count:  3.5k​​​​

Rating: Mature (because of future chapters, this story is 18 + only, and not fit for minor consumption.)

Warnings: 18 + ONLY!! This series is not for minors! If I find you, you will be blocked form my work!! SMUT, insecure reader, angst, finding out the truth about monsters, cliff hanger ending, (inserts evil laught here)

A/N: This is the first Christmas fic I have written in a long time! You guys will get this one real time, and I hope to finish it before New Years! Fingers crossed! Anyways, This fic is unbeta’d, so all mistakes are my won! Feedback is golden! My work is 18+ only! No minors! Thanks so much for reading!

Main Masterlist

Y/N’s POV:

Y/N sat, eyes wide, stomach burning with anxiety and nerves, wide eyed at the two men that sat across from her and beside her. The story that they had just told her was so unbelievable, that there was absolutely NO way that they could have made it up. It also explained some things that Sam had around the house that she always counted as strange, like the bottles of holy water, bags of strange things sitting on shelves or in corners… that were apparently ‘hex bags’ for ‘protection.’

Sam had been doing the majority of the talking for the past hour, because when Dean got to certain parts in HIS side of the story, like going to hell for forty years, his mom's death… the second time… the loss of his best angle friend, Cas being the last part, he just stopped talking, and sat next to her in silence staring at the floor. Admittedly, she was sure there were parts of his story that he couldn’t remember after he was impaled to a pole. Parts that Sam would have had to tell. Parts about surgeries, and time spent in hospitals. How life after hunting, after trauma indescribable, and monsters and demons up until the point that they had met, those were things that Dean seemed to be unable to find words for. 

She tried to cover it up. The sheer shock of things that they had told her would surely give her nightmares for the rest of her life, and suddenly, all those things she thought that was fake all of her life, all those things she was afraid of, all of those things that go bump in the night, and some things that she had never even heard of, to find out that they were real… that’s not something you just walk away from the same, and fuck, she was never going to be the same again. 

“I would have given anything,” Dean said suddenly, his voice hoarse and strained as he kept his eyes lowered and his head bowed. “Anything at all, to have never had to tell you that. I would have taken it to my grave if I could have, but if you’re going to spend any amount of time in a relationship with me at all, you need to know the truth. I couldn’t lie to you, it would have just blown up in my face.”

Sam watched her closely, and God she’d love to know what he was thinking, seeing as this is what he wanted anyway, for her to be with his brother, which meant that surely he would have known this conversation was coming one day if his little plans laid out like he wished for them too. She was admittedly a little angry with him that he never told her anything about it. He had years to sit this up, soften the blow, but he never told her one word, and she’d have words with him about that later, when she was thinking clearer, and she had time to process it all. 

"Y/N, say something, please," Dean pleaded. 

His hands were tightly tripping the bottle in his hands in an attempt to hide the tremble in them. His breaths were erupting from his chest in small pants, and he was sweating ever so slightly at his hairline. 

"I, I don't really know what to say," she admitted in earnest, and Sam nodded across from her. 

"It's a lot," Sam voiced, "and the fact that you didn't run away screaming is more than I'd hoped for when Dean told me he wanted to tell you everything."

"I get it," Dean said, suddenly standing. "I'll uhm, I'll go to pack up my things and as soon as they bring the plows through tonight I will leave you guys alone. I'm sorry, I should have never came. You probably think we're nuts—" 

"Hey," Y/N quickly reached for his hand to stop him from running away. "I never said you were crazy, and I never said I wanted you to leave or that I didn't believe you. It's just a LOT to process, and I don't know how I feel about it yet. Scared, fucking numb, angry that you've both had to go through so much trauma, even a little angry that you were left alone when Sam moved here, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna run away or that I want you too. You can't just drop a bomb like that and then run away. It doesn't work like that."

"I'm a lot more fucked up than I appear to be sweetheart, are you sure you still want to so this? That you're still interested in me?" Dean questioned, but slowly sat back down on the couch next to her when she pulled his arm towards her. 

"And that's totally understandable," Y/N offered. "That doesn't mean you should recluse yourself and hide away from your family and people you care about." 

Sam cleared his throat and stood from his seat across from the pair of them, for a moment, she had forgotten he was even in the room. 

"I think I'm gonna call it a night, it's already after midnight, and you guys need to talk things out without me there.," Sam said, and Y/N's eyes drifted to the clock above the mantel. 

"Fuck, it's already midnight?" Y/N whispered in astonishment. 

"It wasn't exactly a short story to tell," Dean chuckled humorlessly next to her. 

"Well, goodnight," Sam cleared his throat again at the sudden tenderness that filled the room, Miracle hot on his heels. 

"Come on," Y/N said, standing suddenly. "Let's go get comfortable, that's enough of the heavy for now."

It was as if a cloud had rested over Dean's face. His eyes were darker. His shoulders were slumped slightly as if a weight of a thousand pounds had rested on Dean's shoulders. She didn't like seeing him like that. She didn't like that the light he carried from the moment he walked into her life seemed to have dimmed just a little by the darkness that had fallen from their past like a shadow of a passing storm. The worst of it may have been over, the wind and the rain and lightning no longer pounded against him, but the destruction remained. The darkness lingered. She could see it now, why Sam said he needed her. He was alone in an aftermath that was much bigger than him. He needed someone to help him pick up the pieces. 

Dean followed her, completely silent. Neither of them had changed from their pajamas the night before, so she pulled back the cover, and invited him to crawl into bed next to her. 

He stood there for a moment, his gaze shifting between the bed and the floor. 

"What is Dean?" She questioned, she'd never seen him so unsure. Not that she'd known him all that long. 

"Nothing, I just… I really didn't expect you to stay," he admitted before sliding slowly into the bed next to her. 

"Well, I told you I didn't scare easy," she attempted to tease him. 

"Maybe you should," he said, completely serious. "Everyone that I've ever loved, cared about, as you heard, they usually don't last long around me. Maybe I shouldn't have put you into this position at all."

"Dean, nothing supernatural ended Sarah's life. It was cancer. Something that can and has happened to anyone. That wasn’t you. You and Sam both said it yourself. Things are different now. It's okay, I'm okay, nothing bad will happen to you or me."

Dean nodded, still very unsure, and maybe he’d always be a little unsure, always waiting for the next shoe to drop, and everything to fall apart, that’d just be something she’d have to slowly work on fixing for him. He deserved some piece in his life. 

“You know,” Dean said as slipped his arm around her, and pulled her in closer to him so that she was resting her head against his chest, the steady drum of his heart beating against her ear. “You and one other woman are all that I’ve ever told, you know, about what we really do. Well, women that weren’t part of the life, or became hunters. Sarah was a hunter already when I met her. Joe, I never gave her the chance she deserved, but she was raised in this shit. I was young and stupid, and she is probably my biggest regret, if I could have done it all over again… I guess the point I’m trying to make is that I’ve got a lot of regrets, and I have to live with those, there’s not a fix for that, but I don’t want us to be another one.”

“I’m not going to be Dean,” she told him again, and if she had too, she’d tell him a thousand times over. If it’s what he needed to hear, needed the assurance, she’d tell him over and over again. 

Dean took a deep breath, willing himself to relax. She could feel how tense he was underneath her, and she wished there was a way to help him through it, because God she knew what it felt like to be all bound up like that. Talking about the things he’d talked about today had not been easy, at all. It’d taken a toll on him emotionally and physically. 

She let her fingers trace the hard muscles of his chest through his thinner, white shirt. He shivered underneath her, and wrapped his arm tighter around her. 

“So you’re really gonna stay?” She questioned, “Leave the bunker behind, and come here?”

Dean sighed heavily. “If it means being here with you, then yes.”

“But… you really don’t want to stay here, do you?” 

She questioned, the sudden tightness around her own chest told her she already knew the answer to that question.

Dean moved, sliding down in the bed to lay on his side next to her so that he could see her, almost as if he sensed what she was feeling or thinking. It amazed her how they already seemed so connected. 

“I wanna be wherever you are,” he assured her. “If that’s here, or fucking Miami, Florda, I’m there.”

“But The Bunker is the only home you’ve ever known—”

“The Bunker served its purpose for me, as I’m sure it will for someone else one day, but my HOME has always been where Sammy is, and now where you are. I”ve always been a bit of a nomad sweetheart. Starting over again here won't be as bad as I’m afraid it will be. I'm just having a little trouble letting things go in my old age, but once I get established, I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.”

“You’re not old,” she countered, and deadpanned, a bit of the spark coming back into his eyes that had been dampened out by the earlier conversations of the past. 

“You’re in a relationship with an old man, sweetheart, face it.”

“What can I say,” she teased, “I got daddy issues.” 

It just slipped out, she normally never talked that way, she was just trying to be funny, and as soon as she did, the blush that covered her face had her damn near glowing. 

“You’re adorable when you blush you know that,” Dean questioned, brushing her hair behind her ear so that he could see her face better, and fuck if that didn’t make her blush even harder. 

“There is NOTHING cute or adorable on me, or about me,” Y/N said, attempting to hide her face from him. 

“That’s not true at all,” Dean countered. “You’re gorgeous sweetheart, there’s not a flaw on you.”

“You haven’t seen me naked,” she shot back, and the impish smirk that crossed his lips probably had the power to melt her clothing slam off of her body. 

“No, I haven’t, but fuck I”d sure like too.”  

Dean’s finger tips traced her sides, and down her thighs. “You’re fucking beautiful baby. So soft, warm, inviting… God you have no idea how bad I’d love to see you naked. You wanna talk about flaws? My boney ass has plenty of them. But you, baby girl you look just how a woman should. Fucking gorgeous.”

“Whatever,” she argued, “have you seen yourself lately?”

“Every goddamn day baby, and it ain’t nothing to look at, but you,...”

Dean let his words trail off as his eyes traced every part of her body he could see. Drinking her in like a man dying of thirst. 

Before she could argue with him any further, Dean captured her lips in his, kissing her deeply, doing his best to wash away every fear, every bit of anxiety, and every bit of insecurities. It worked. It was damn hard to focus on anything but Dean when his lips were tracing their way down her neck and shoulders. When his callous hands were making their way under her shirt and up her sides slowly trailing a line of fire in their wake. 

He’d succeeded in keeping her thoroughly distracted until he took the hymn of her shirt in his hands, and began to lift it over her head, and she stopped him, suddenly afraid that when he saw that her stomach wasn’t so flat, or that she had stretch marks on her hips and her breast, that he’d run away screaming. He may have lived a literal nightmare, but he’d never seen her naked, and she was afraid that as soon as he did, he’d run. 

"What's wrong, did I do something wrong?" Dean questioned quickly, and fuck if that didn't make her feel worse.

"You didn't do anything wrong, it's me. I… I don't know if you really want to see me naked, cause I'm not perfect by ANY standards."

Dean sat up in the bed, and for a moment she'd thought she'd made him mad when he stood up out of the bed. But to her surprise, with an almost sad face, he started to remove his own layers of clothing. Starting with his hot dog pj's, when he kicked his leg up on the bed, revealing a scare that looked a whole lot like a bullet hole in his thigh muscle before grabbing her hand, and running it over the discolored skin. 

“I can show you imperfections sweetheart,” he continued, standing up straight, and ripping his shirt from his body, revealing a thin, yet soft tummy, and broad chest and shoulders, that looked like they had been carved out by the hand of God himself, but past the initial shock of it all, littered a multitude of scars among seas of freckles and tanned skin, and one tattoo, matching Sam’s, until he turned, revealing a good sized mark on his back, that was slightly indented, and once was a hole, where a piece of rebar almost took his life from him far too soon. 

It took all she had in her to hold back the deep breath she almost gasped in, there was no way he should have survived that, yet here he was. Alive and well by some divine miracle that they didn’t even understand, and somehow, it made it all more real, like that was evidence of everything he’d ever told her. 

“That’s just the shit you can see Baby, that ain’t got nothing on the years of mental and emotional scars that don’t show like these do.”

Dean turned around to face her, crawling back into the bed just as he’d been laying a moment ago. 

“There ain’t nothing you got hidden under those close honey that is gonna run me off. I’ve seen some horrible, terrifying shit in my life, and I can assure you, there’s none of that on you at all. You have absolutely NO reason to hide from me whatsoever baby, I promise you, you’re gorgeous.”

Y/N’s mind and heart were racing, somewhere deep, DEEP down, she knew he was telling her the truth, but she still felt that hint of anxiety that screamed at her that she didn’t deserve someone as beautiful as him. Someone as brave as him. A fucking hero for fuck’s sake. 

“Hey, but if you don’t want to go any further than this right here tonight, or any other night, I’m okay. I promise. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I don’t want you to think I’m pushing you for something I’m not.”

She looked up at him this time. No man alive had ever told her that before. She was by no means a virgin, but usually, it was what the male in the relationship wanted. They rarely ever cared about what she wanted or needed. Ever. 

“No, no, I want to,” she’d said with determination after a moment. “I want to be close to you Dean, it’s just not that easy for me.”

“I wish you could see what I see,” he mused, scooping her up and pulling her close as he physically could to him. “Then maybe this wouldn’t be so hard for you.”

“Then show me,” she said, swallowing past the lump that had suddenly developed in her throat. “Show me what you see.”

That was all the prompting he needed to slip his hand around her back to brace her as he rolled her onto her back, his lips never leaving hers except when broke away to lift her shirt above her head. This time she let him, and he kept her busy with his lips to be well distracted as slowly, every layer of clothing she’d had, except her underwear, had slipped to the floor. 

His fingers traced every inch of skin his lips couldn’t find as he worshiped her body, leaving a trail of open mouth kisses over each swell of her breast, and over stomach as he worked his way lower over her body, and as he made his descent, the more her anxiety grew. 

“Dean,” she said, attempting to stop him, but he just raced back up towards her lips with his, kissing away what little bit of anxiety had risen there. 

“It’s okay,” he assured her, “trust me.”

She nodded after a moment of internal struggle. She’d never had a man be THAT intimate with her before. Normally, any oral sex that was performed during sex with her, she was the one doing it. Usually, most men she’d been with were either really bad at it, or only cared about themselves. 

But this was Dean, and Dean was different. When she looked at him, she didn’t see any judgment there. Just devotion, and caring, and more love than she’d ever been looked at with before, and it was enough to make her agree to it, even though she was a little afraid as he slipped her underwear off of her legs slowly, and centered himself between them, nibbling at her hips and making her giggle as he kissed his way up and down each thigh, avoiding where she desperately needed him the most, teasing. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he said before leaning forward and licking a long, fat strip through her dripping center, and fuck if she didn’t damn near arch off of the bed as he devoured her, strong hands ripping her hips tightly as he sucked and licked at her swollen nub until her body was shaking around him, and band winding tighter and tighter until it snapped as suddenly as he’d wound it, and she fell apart like puddy in his hands, causing him to grow at lap at her, determined to take all she had to give him as if he was a man starved. 

“Goddammit baby girl,” he swore as he slowly made his way back up her body, leaving little pecks and kisses along his way. “You taste as good as you look.”

Her mind was foggy, her body was limp and drained, and he’d just barely gotten started with her. She swore that this man had to be a fucking capital offense in several states with just his mouth alone, and she didn’t know if she’d actually survive him fucking her. Still, she was gonna try. 

She reached for him, and he slowly slipped out of his boxers, revealing himself hard and leaking. God he was gorgeous, she’d never seen a more beautiful man in her life. He was a breathing work of art, and surely Gods or man would never make another more perfect man, and he was hers, she had to be dreaming, but if this was a dream, she never wanted to wake up, ever. 

“You okay baby?” he questioned, and she could only nod in response, words failing her. “Cause we can stop, I’m okay, we don’t have to go any further if you don’t want me to.”

“I want you to Dean, I’m fine,” she assured him, and he nodded before gripping himself to line himself up with her dripping center, causing her to gasp as he swiped his thick, spongy tip through her juices. Causing her to shiver. 

“Look at me sweetheart, I want you to look at him,” he said, and she did, it took all the strength she had, but she did it, she forced her eyes open, and he slowly pushed himself into her quivering cunt with one smooth thrust that knocked the wind out of her. 

The stretch and burn was more than she was used to, her muscles contracted around him as she adjusted to the sheer size and girth of him, and he stayed still there, letting her, not rushing, not pushing, even though it surely took some restraint on his part to stay like that. 

“You’re so fucking perfect baby girl, don’t let anyone ever tell you that you’re not,” he told her, kissing her deeply as he slowly started to rock his hips into her, pressing, grinding, helping her move her body along with his own, but never really pull away, instead he kept them locked together, holding onto her like a lifeline for a drowning man, and maybe in away he felt like he was drowning and had been for a long time, she knew she sure as hell felt that way a lot lately, but not now, not with him, she just felt complete; whole for the first time in her life. 

“Dean, move,” she begged him, suddenly needing more of him needing to feel him, as he picked up the pace of their movements, grinding himself deeper into her, and driving her higher hand higher with every press of his lips down into her already sensitive clit. 

“Not until you cum cause I’m not gonna last long,” he admitted, “cum for me sweetheart,” and she did, as if he had somehow managed to take over completely control of her body, and that’s when he pulled out and began to really trust into her, fucking her through her orgasm that had her vision blurring around the edges, and her body feeling like it was falling and somehow on fire all at the same time. 

She came down from her high just in time to watch him fall apart, and fuck if he wasn’t the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen as his body jerked and came to a still deep inside of her as he spilt himself into the condom she didn’t even realized he’d slipped on, but she was thankful that at least one of them was thinking clearly enough to practice some sort of safety. 

After a few moments of floating in what felt like something between eternity, and death itself, Dean rolled off of her carefully, leaving her feeling empty and cold before he kissed her carefully, as if she was the most beautiful, most fragile thing he’d ever encountered. “I’ll be right back,” he told her, and slipped into the bathroom to remove the condom from himself, and to return with a warm, damp cloth to clean her up before cleaning himself. 

She felt strange, whole, safe, protected. Something she’d never felt before, but more than that, she felt charished, and loved, and fuck if that wasn’t the best, most comforting feeling she’d ever felt in her life as he tucked her into his chest, and wrapped the covers around them safely. Protecting her from all the hurtful, evil things of this world. 

Nothing was said, not a word was spoken. But nothing had to be either. She was content just to lay there in his arms, safe, warm, his. 

“You know,” she said after a moment of pondering, her mind racing too fast for her to fall asleep. “If you want, I’d love to go and live with you, in the bunker, maybe… I don’t know, help you start your own private investigation firm. I’ve worked with Sam for years, and with lawyers… If you wanna go home, there’s nothing really holding me here. Maybe we can even get Sam to come with us. I think we all need to be together again, but I also think that home is more Kansas for you than Detroit.”

“I like that idea,” Dean said after a while. “I think he will come with us too. I think I’d like to take you home with me. Cause you’re gonna have to be the one to hold me together, cause I’m a mess.”

“I think I can handle that,” she assured him, and she really did. Sam was right. They were meant for one another, and she had no problem being his brother’s keeper. In fact, it was all she ever wanted to be again…

Sam’s POV:

Sam closed the door to his bedroom, and nearly jumped out of his skin at the trench coated figure that stood in the room, facing the window, looking outside at the snow, and for a moment, he was stunned, dumbfounded even. 

“Cas?” 

Cas turned to face his old friend, his shining blue eyes sparkling in the dim light that filtered the room from the street, and Sam nearly fell to the floor. 

“I thought… I thought you were… You’re back?”

“I’m back,” he voiced, walking over towards his overly tall friend, “and I’m here to tell you that now that Dean has his soul mate, it’s time to get back to work, you boys, and Y/N, you got work to do…”

That’s all til next time everyone! Thanks so much for reading!!!

Forever:

@whittysunflower

@demongirl1996​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  

@as-lost-as-sams-shoe​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@jensenslady79​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@spnwoman​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@stoneyggirl2​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men​​

@stixnstripesworld​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@fullwattpadmusictree​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@nancymcl​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@christycreature​​

@whiskey-infused-dreams​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@supernatural79impala​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@deandreamernp​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@forgetthisbull​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@miraclesoflove​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@slamminmine​​​​​​​

@deanwanddamons​​​​​​​

@rvgrsbrns​​​​​​​

@chevyharvelle​​​​​​​

@i-love-superhero-movies​​​​​​​

@lyss-dw79​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@magssteenkamp​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@lemondropirwin​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@squirrelnotsam​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@hobby27​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@spnbaby-67​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  

@mrsjenniferwinchester​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@defenderrosetyler​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@thecreatiivecorner​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  

@vicmc624​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@busy-bee-angel-misska​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@justanotherwinchester​​​​​​

@brilovesdeanwinchester​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@idksupernatural​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@lyarr24​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@emoryhemsworth​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@dean-winchesters-gardian-angel​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@flamencodiva​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@itmejado​​​​​​​​

@thoughts-and-funnies​​​​​​​​​

@teresa-67​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@hearteyes-j2​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@peaches007​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@bobbie3939​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@vulgar-library​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@writercole​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@fairlyspnfanfic​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@sexyvixen7​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@spngi​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@b3autyfuldisast3r​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@donnaintx​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@maliburenee​​​​���​​​​​​​​​​​

@the-family-business67​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@agirlwithdemonblood​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@captainsoldiergirl​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@twinkleinadiamondsky​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Jensen and Dean’s Babes

@deans-baby-momma​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  

@impalaslytherin​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@perpetualabsurdity​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@msmarvelouswinchester​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@akshi8278​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@love-jackles​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@irmcpar​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@pink-sparkly-witch​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@dean-winchesters-spinster-witch​

@herstarburststories​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@mimaria420​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@deanwinchesterswitch​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@charred-angelwings​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@pascal-rascal424​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@myloversgone​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@fortheloveof-jackles​​​​​​​​​​​

@eevvvaa​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@bts-spnlvr12​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@jxackles​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@lassie-bird​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@samsgirl93​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@shawnie74​​​​​​​​​​  

@kaz11283​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

@mlovesstories​​​​​​​

@ladysparks78

[father-salmon]

writing patterns!!

tagged by @honestlydarkprincess thank you, my bean!!

rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 posted fics and see if there's a pattern!

(none of these are buddie so there's your disclaimer lmao)

1. God is a Bit of a Freak - Rated E, Meg Masters/Castiel/Dean Winchester

Honestly, if you ask Meg what she gets up to on a general Saturday evening, the answer isn’t what you’d expect. Yes, she’s single, nearly 30, and has… a semi-normal amount of friends. You’d think she’d be with them or on a date or something.

2. What Happens in Oz... - Rated E, Charlie Bradbury/Dorothy Baum

The way Oz works is that it’s every person for themselves. Charlie is learning this very quickly and sooner than she’d like. The body of someone she and Dorothy once considered an ally is now dead on the floor, courtesy of the latter. Blood seeps out on the tufted carpet of Oz’s version of the Men of Letters bunker. What once was the Bravest Cowardly Lion’s fur is now a stained and stepped-over relic of the past. Charlie suppresses the urge to gag. She glances at Dorothy, whose face is hardened with the stink of betrayal that hangs in the room. The air runs thick with it.

3. Holy Ground - Rated E, Castiel/Dean Winchester

Cas - One Week Before the Wedding 

Coming back to a place you’d long ago given up on, feels a bit… bittersweet. Everything is nearly exactly as it was 15 years ago; the convenience shop on the corner, the church in the center, the Roadhouse. The only thing that has really changed is the people. It’s more or less the same crowd, only with more wrinkles and bigger bellies. The stores are more weather-worn, too – the paint faded on the signs and windows by the same sun that has chapped skin and dulled lined-dried clothes until the whole town seems washed out and pale.

4. enthusiastic consent - Rated E, Castiel/Dean Winchester

Dean has a shadow. 

Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. Everyone has a shadow. 

Dean has two though, he’s sure of it. He’s been sure of it since last week when the debilitating feeling of being watched was too much to bear and now he believes it. Because he’s seen the goddamn stalker ! Albeit, handsome stalker but stalker nonetheless.

5. Bedroom Hymns - Rated E, Castiel/Dean Winchester

The Impulse Purchase - 2014

Dean didn’t even think twice about clicking the order button on a value pack of men’s panties. If anyone were to look through his search history, he would vehemently deny it but that’s the perk of having his own computer. 6. close encounter of the fourth kind - Rated E, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Others

To say Dean was abducted is the understatement of the century. 

His ass was literally taken out of his comfy memory foam mattress, shoved into a sac, and brought to… wherever the fuck this is: this Area 51 looking room, that’s for damn sure. 7. The Red Means I Love You - Rated E, Kaia Nieves/Claire Novak

An oak tree marks Claire’s first grave. She found it on a whim, adrenaline rushing through her veins trying to find an appropriate burial spot among the woods just behind campus. She dug feverishly until she couldn’t see the ground above her, paranoia growing higher by the minute. It was only when she scrambled back up and dropped the extremely disfigured body of her mother into the ground and covered it up did she feel the relief. That was the only thing she didn’t prepare for. 

8. Butcher's Cut - Rated E, Castiel/Dean Winchester

Does Dean Winchester have a clue about what he’s doing?

No.

Is that stopping him?

Also no. 

But opening a butcher/sandwich shop in town with his best friend — neither of them having any experience of running a business — may be one of the more stupid ideas he’s ever had. Not that he’s had any good ones but, here he is. 9. baby, it's cold outside - Rated T, Castiel/Dean Winchester

THUMP! 

“Ow—son of a bitch! ”

Castiel whips his head up from where it’s buried in his book to find the source of the sound. 10. nobody cares this is the day i was born - Rated G, Castiel/Dean Winchester

Two days. That’s all he gets. Two days before his birthday, Lisa shoves a birthday card at his chest and tells him she’s breaking up with him and he’s left there with a crumpled gift and a broken heart. Two days. He’s fine. He can cope. Except it’s his birthday in two days and he had planned to spend it with Lisa and now? Well, he’s blown off every other attempt his friends have made to spend his birthday with him, so it’s definitely too late to ask if he can join in on plans they probably made without him. 

--- no pressure tag list!! @underwater-ninja-13 @bigfootsmom @loserdiaz @giddyupbuck @gaylicense @spotsandsocks @devirnis @monsterrae1 @yelenasbuddie @buckaroosheart @snarkythewoecrow @dicklessthewonderclown @bleuzombie @malicmalic @cactusdragon517 @deancodedcastielenby @songliili

[deanwinchesterpregnant]

jeremiah 8:20

– for @wincestwednesdays prompt: blood

Deanna’s never been the best at keeping track of her period, though in her defense her cycle has never exactly been regular. There’s always something – constantly swapping between fake insurances, going on and off the pill. A poor diet. Stress. Etcetera.

But in Detroit, she knows it’s been too long. A couple months, maybe three. She can’t remember. Can’t remember the last time she’d woken up with stains in her panties or the last time Sam had looked up from between her legs to say uh, I think it’s time to stock up on tampons, Dee. Everything in the past couple months has run together between God and the Devil and the angels who want to kill them and keep them alive and she just can’t remember jack shit.

She can’t even remember when this might have happened. Her and Sammy haven’t screwed much since she'd died and come back again, but clearly their sex life hasn’t suffered enough for them to not have fucked raw at least once these past few months.

She doesn’t bother to tell anybody. Bobby, Cas – they have enough on their plates, and Deanna’s just told her little brother to go ahead and offer himself up to Satan. Sorry, Dad. Couldn’t keep Sammy safe. Couldn’t keep him from knocking me up, either.

Deanna can’t have a baby, no matter how many secret domestic fantasies she harbors. Holding it, rocking it to sleep and passing out in a handmade chair. Sammy coming to find her and lifting the baby from her arms and putting it in the crib all gentle. Going days on not even her requisite 4 hours of beauty sleep. In another life, maybe. She can’t have a baby and she especially can’t have a baby with Sam, so maybe it doesn’t matter.

“Did you know?” Deanna asks Cas, driving away from Lawrence all those hours later. Maybe days later. It’s all run together; she’s doing 80 in a 55 easy, and the trees that line the highway pass as nothing more than brown-grey-green blurs.

“Did I know what?” Castiel asks. He won’t look at her and well, that’s just fine. Her eyes are on the road and her grip on the wheel is so tight that she can feel all the folds and impressions in the leather making divots on her palm. She’s not looking at anybody.

“Don’t play dumb, Cas. That ain’t you.”

Castiel sighs, and then he’s so silent that she thinks maybe he’s gone, the bastard. Never was very good at goodbyes.

“It wasn’t a choice.”

“Huh?”

“When I healed you,” Castiel says. His breathing is even; if he had a heartbeat Deanna is sure it would be steady. She feels like her whole esophagus is going to be ripped out from her throat any second, can feel a wave threatening to crash behind her eyelids, and here he is with his even cadence and his abiding faith in God. “When I healed you, it – I healed everything. I didn’t get to pick and choose.”

“Right,” she says. The mile markers and exit signs pass too fast for her to read them. “Right, I knew that.”

Castiel's voice sounds so gentle when he says: “Lucifer had beat you nearly to death. It was already dead, Deanna.” She hates it.

And aren't these things supposed to end in blood, anyway? Shouldn’t she have had this one last thing, one last moment of watching a part of her brother bleed from her, one last bit of Sam to have and to hold and to lose? Shouldn’t she have felt that singular pain, sharp in her gut, heavy in her cunt? Shouldn't she have bled for all those months she went without? It shouldn't have ended in nothing but a touch to the forehead. Everything she’s ever had, all taken away by God; fucking God and the Devil and all the angels who want to keep her alive. She’s not sure there are any left who want her dead, and maybe she wishes there were.

“Well, that’s just bullshit,” she says. Castiel doesn’t point out how thick her voice sounds. He doesn’t point out how it cracks over the sharp punch of the shit. With a flutter of wings, he’s gone. It doesn’t matter. She can’t have a baby, and she especially can’t have a baby with Sam. She’ll go live this apple pie life because that’s what Sammy wanted, and she’ll do it with somebody else’s kid.

[cringemesstickles]

No Magic Needed

(TickleTober Day 1: Anticipation)

Summary: Dean and Cas team up and wreck Sam. :’)

Pairings: None

A/N: HAPPY TKTOBER EVERYONE!!!! :D

I know I know, I wrote a lee!sam fic for day 1. Sue me

———————————————————

It was a relaxing day at the bunker; the dim lighting mixed with the soft hum of the air conditioner providing a comfortable atmosphere, perfect for a day off.

Sam was on the couch, engrossed in a novel, while Castiel sat motionless with an intense expression, looking as if he was pondering life’s most troubling questions.

The scene was a little mundane for Dean’s taste; luckily, he was the king of mischief and had the perfect scheme to add some flair to their day off.

He waited for Sam to momentarily walk away, then with a mischievous grin on his face, he approached the stoic angel, making sure Sam couldn’t hear them.

Getting the angel’s attention, Dean spoke in a mischievous tone.

“Hey, Cas… I bet you I can tickle Sam without even touching him.”

Castiel was taken aback by the abrupt claim, though very intrigued.

“Without touching? Did you find some sort of spell?” He asked curiously, unsure that he’d wanna partake in any risky spell work.

Dean laughed and shook his head.

“Nope. No magic, no spells, none of that; just pure skill.” He crossed his arms with a proud expression, clearly pleased with his ‘talents’.

Castiel thought for a moment before nodding his head.

“Very well then. What’s the trick?”

Dean clapped his hands together with a playful glint in his eye.

“Alright, Cas. I’m gonna need your help to hold him down. Then you’ll get to see the real magic!”

And so, they waited for Sam to return, which didn’t take long at all. Dean and Cas exchanged a knowing glance, Dean giving the angel a look that said ‘alright, let’s torture my baby brother’.

On the silent count of three, the duo ambushed Sam; Castiel moving to sit cross legged on one end of the couch with his arms open while Dean pops up from the other side and pushes Sam backwards, the youngest landing with his head in the angel’s lap as said angel grabbed his wrists in a gentle yet firm grip.

Dean then proceeded to sit on Sam’s hips, the team effort ensuring Sam wouldn’t escape.

Sam’s eyes widened at the sudden ambush and his cheeks turned rosy, having a hunch as to what the two were up to.

“Hey! What the hell, guys!?” He shouted, trying to mask his nervousness.

Dean looked at Castiel, ready to proudly demonstrate his skills.

“What’s the matter, Sammy? You’re looking a little… skittish!” He darted his hands towards Sam’s stomach, stopping just before he made contact, fingers hovering dangerously close to the sensitive tummy.

Sam yelped and squirmed, the fake-out making him even more nervous now that his suspicions were confirmed.

“D-Dean, no! D-Don’t!” He protested, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Dean smirked wickedly and pinched the hem of Sam’s shirt, slowly rolling up the fabric to reveal the soft expanse of Sam’s tummy.

The action was so painfully slow and Sam could already feel his brothers fingers skittering over his sensitive skin. The thought made him squirm and he accidentally let out a little giggle,

blushing brightly when the embarrassing noise escaped.

The reaction only fueled Dean’s playful demeanor and he made a face of mock surprise, a sly grin etched on his face.

“Oh? What’s this? Little Sammy is giggling already? I haven’t even said his favorite word yet!”

Oh no.

Sam knew exactly what word Dean was talking about.

“Nohoho! Don’t you d-dare say ihihit!”

Dean just laughed with playful menace before leaning in close and whispering in Sam’s ear.

“Tickle tickle tickle~”

Sam squeaked and burst into laughter, the word getting under his skin and flustering him just like it always did.

Castiel looked both surprised and amused, looking down at Sam’s flushed expression.

“Well, Dean, I must admit I was skeptical of your claims, but low and behold…”

The comment only seemed to make Sam laugh louder and Dean smirk even more deviously.

“Oh just you wait, my feathery friend. You haven’t seen anything yet!”

Sam’s midriff was exposed by now, the cool air hitting his skin and making him shutter.

The elder Winchester hovered his hands above Sam’s tummy and began to teasingly wiggle his fingers just inches away from the sensitive flesh, delighting in the way the tummy quivered as if already being tickled; Sam snorting and shaking his head, fluffy brown hair whipping around with him.

“Eeek! Dehehean, stohohop!” Sam squealed, face flushed with embarrassment and excitement.

“Stop what, Sammy? I haven’t even started yet!” The elder grinned deviously.

“Oh, but when I do…”

He chuckled ominously,

“You’ll be laughing so loud, the bunker will be at risk of being found~”

Castiel chuckled and decided to chime in,

“I believe his laughter has already reached that point, Dean.”

“You have no idea, Cas. I haven’t even touched him yet and look at him; all blushy and giggly, simply from the thought of getting that cute little tummy scratched and scribbled on~”

Sam was indeed a blushing mess.

Every tease and taunt was like a magic spell that shot tingly sensations straight to his belly, making him squirm with anticipation.

What was truly driving him insane was how long this was taking; he was growing slightly impatient with the lack of actual tickles. Phantom tickles just weren’t enough to satisfy his sudden craving.

The younger Winchester arched his back in an attempt to get closer to his brother’s hands, making Dean laugh at the blatant eagerness from his little brother.

“Aww, someone’s getting impatient~ what d’ya think, Cas? should I give this cutie pie his tickle tickle tickles?~”

Sam whined childishly, face burning red at the flustering baby talk.

Castiel hummed thoughtfully.

“I do believe you’ve kept him waiting long enough. He’s earned it.” The angel nodded, looking down to see Sam’s eyes widen with excitement.

Dean couldn’t help but melt a little at the joyful sparkle in Sam’s eyes.

They’d been through so much, and to see Sam’s eyes sparkle with undeniable happiness was a true gift.

He quickly buried the mushy thoughts for the time being, snapping back to his teasy tickle monster persona.

“You heard him, Sammy. Get ready for the tickliest tickle attack ever!” He poised his hands to attack, forming claws with his hands and starting a countdown, knowing it would drive Sam crazy.

“Three…” he inched his hands closer.

“Waitwaitwait-” Sam giggled nervously.

“Two…” he inched his hands even closer.

“Deheheeean!!” Sam let out a giggly whine.

“One!”

Sam let out a high pitched shriek, bursting into bright boyish laughter, squeezing his eyes shut with mirth.

Dean burst out laughing, incredibly amused by his brother’s reaction for a key reason that Sam was unaware of.

“Sammy, open your eyes.. Haha!”

Hesitant but curious, Sam took a peek to see what Dean found so hilarious, laughing all the while.

What he saw were his brother’s hands completely still, still hovering over his belly.

Dean hadn’t tickled him.

Sam’s laughter died down and his eyes widened once again, comically so.

The red coloring his face could give a cherry a run for its money.

He tried to bury his face in the crook of his arm, completely mortified.

Even the stoic angel of the lord had to laugh.

“Well that’s a noise I’ve never heard from you, Sam. I must say, it was quite endearing.” He smiled fondly, his voice dripping with sincerity.

“That’s so unfair!” Sam whined, his lips forming a pout.

Dean, feeling mildly bad, decided to sincerely give Sam the tickles he had been waiting for.

“Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t resist! Ok, for real this time.”

He didn’t waste time with the count down, figuring he’d tortured Sam enough.

He dug claw shaped hands into Sam’s sensitive tummy, eliciting a loud squeal from his younger brother, followed by bright bubbly laughter.

“DEHEHEHEAN!!”

Dean relished in the sound of his little brother’s laughter; the sound pure and joyful.

Even Castiel found himself chuckling at the precious sounds.

“You know, Sam.. your laugh is really quite lovely.” Cas smiled, his voice filled with sincerity, earning a shy giggle from Sam.

“Hehe- nooooo!!”

Dean raised an eyebrow.

“No? Are you saying your laugh isn’t lovely, Sam? Well we’ve just gotta do something about that!”

As soon as Sam saw the spark in Dean’s eyes, he knew exactly what was coming.

“wait- nonono eEP!! DEHEHEHEE!!”

Dean had leaned down and started blowing sloppy wet raspberries all over Sam’s belly, knowing how much Sam always loved them.

Sam was cackling and kicking his long legs, tummy tingling in the most delightful way.

Their lives were without a doubt, very hard. But it was the little moments like this that made it all more bearable.

When Sam started wheezing, Dean and Cas took that as their queue to let up.

Sam lay panting on the couch, head still resting in Castiel’s lap, cheeks rosy and a tickle-happy smile glued to his face.

“You guys suhuhuck..” he giggled, the phantom tickles still lingering.

Dean laughed and ruffled his brothers hair.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy that. I know you too well little brother.” He winked.

Sam sighed, relaxing even further when the angel started combing his fingers through the soft brown locks.

And so, the trio continued to enjoy their day off; the remainder of the day filled with even more laughter, all thanks to Dean’s need for mischief.

[aria-ashryver]

Starlight Smut Supercut - Burning Gasoline (CH28)

Book: Immortal Desires Pairing: m!Cas x m!Gabe x nb!MC (Luca O'Rinn) Ratings/Warnings: 🔥Explicit🔥 - adult content below the cut! Words: 3.9K

Summary: Gabriel goes full President Adalhard mode, a bratty Cas gets put in his place, Luca is more than happy to assist.

A/N: This is an excerpt from a much larger fic -- I've been wondering for a while whether or not to make a smut supercut from my ID longfic here on tumblr, and put scenes like this one in a masterlist of their own? Lmk if I should post more like this!

Tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations

Gabriel collected a keycard from the front desk of the hotel and swiped himself into their room on the third floor. The blinds were drawn and the shower was running when he stepped inside; Luca’s shoes and jacket were tossed on the floor, though there was no sign of Cas anywhere. He’d probably gone to buy Luca some lunch, Gabriel reasoned.

He downed a glass of water, running his tongue across his teeth and glancing at the door to the bathroom. Brushing his teeth likely wouldn’t do much to help the cotton-mouthed feeling of early-stage sun poisoning, but it couldn’t hurt to try.

Knocking gently on the bathroom door only to have it swing open at his touch, Gabriel wandered inside.

‘Hey, Luca, do you mind if I brush my—’

Gabriel froze in the middle of the glossy tiled floor, his eyes trained on the scene before him. The shower curtain was thrown wide, and Luca was definitely not alone.

Granted, the direction of Cas and Luca’s thoughts had been pretty clear in the van a bare half-hour ago —Gabriel had all but passed out when Cas had pinned him with a mere look— so really, it should have been no surprise to find them in the shower together.

But distant, half-knowledge of the kinds of things they might do together was so very different to seeing it play out right in front of him.

Luca gripped the railing below the showerhead with a strung-up desperation, their back arched and legs trembling. Their breath came in shallow gasps, water trickling down their sleek form as, behind them, Cas fisted himself in one gorgeously tattooed hand, stroking slowly over his cock. Two of the fingers of his opposite hand pumped lazily into Luca’s pleasure-wracked body.

A quiet moan tore from Luca’s throat as Cas worked him with his fingers, and Gabriel felt the sound arc through him to settle low in his navel. Steam curled through the air to kiss his skin, his shirt growing damp against his neck.

One of Luca’s hands flew back; he anchored himself on Cas’s thigh for a moment, his mouth popping open noiselessly before his hand drifted higher, trying to stroke over Cas’s hard length. Smirking, Cas gripped Luca’s wrist and held it in place.

‘Uh-uh. Keep your bandages out of the water, what’d I say?’ Leaning close to sink his teeth into the curve of their shoulder, Cas murmured a low warning as Luca whined. ‘You know what happens to brats who don’t know how to behave.’

The words hummed through Gabriel like a plucked string, pebbling the skin of his forearms. Part of his brain was yelling at him that it was inappropriate to stare, but the other half wasn’t listening; the moment Cas’s hand had lifted away to grab at Luca’s wrist, Gabriel was shamelessly ogling him.

He’d pictured Cas naked plenty of times before. There had been a day last summer when he’d bumped into Cas outside the Nexus, shifting a bunch of boxes into a truck for Astoria. Cas had been gloriously shirtless beneath the sun, and it had taken every ounce of Gabriel’s strength to stop looking — though the lean dip of his spine and the angle of his shoulder blades had kept Gabriel up for many a long, frustrated night.

He didn’t listen to that part of his mind telling him to look away this time. Gabriel drank in the sight of Cas; all clean lines and sinewy muscle, his height caging Luca in against the wet tile. His cock jutted hard and flushed before him, and Gabriel wanted to sink to his fucking knees and taste him as Cas came down his throat; he wanted to press his fingers into Cas’s thighs and hold him there; he wanted to know how it would feel to take Cas so deep into his mouth that he could feel the rasp of his neatly-trimmed hair rubbing up against his nose.

Gabriel wondered what it said about him that he could barely even think the word pubes without blushing, and yet he was staring at Cas’s dick like a man famished.

Cas cleared his throat pointedly, the sound proud and amused all at once. Oh god. Gabriel wrenched his head to the side, but he knew damn well Cas had already caught him staring.

‘I would say “take a picture”, Adalhard,’ Cas drawled, ‘but knowing you, you’d find a way to accidentally upload it to the wrong group chat.’

Jesus, why was it so warm in here? Gabriel tugged at the neck of his shirt, wanting to point out that a one-off mistake hardly counted as a habit, but the only words he could come up with at present were all alarmingly phallic.

He blew out a quick breath.

‘Um,’ Gabriel somehow managed to articulate through the fog of horny. He gestured at the bathroom counter. ‘I just wanted to brush my teeth.’

‘Go ahead,’ Cas said. ‘I’m not gonna stop you. I don’t know if you missed it, but I’m a little, ah, preoccupied’ —Cas’s fingers gave a demonstrative pump, and Luca whimpered— ‘at present.’

Gabriel was going to fall on his fucking face. Luca’s fingers curled around the shower rail again, and Cas hummed his pleasure.

‘Good,’ Cas crooned, all low and satisfied. ‘That’s better. Hey, since you’re in here, Adalhard—’

Gabriel firmly reminded himself that breathing was a thing he should do.

‘—would you mind passing me that bottle on the counter?’

Tension leaving his shoulders for a fraction of a second, Gabriel found the bottle Cas wanted, only for his stomach to grow tight all over again when he realised what it was. When on earth had Cas found the time to buy lube?

Gabriel passed the bottle to Cas, trying desperately to seem unaffected.

It was some bizarre streak of pride that had Gabriel holding Cas’s unflinching gaze as Cas drew back his hand, reapplied a generous amount of lubricant that he warmed between his fingers, before, smirking, he teased Luca’s entrance and pushed in with both fingers again.

Cas waited until Luca had finished letting out a shaky moan before replying with a simple, ‘Thanks.’

Gabriel wasn’t so sure his dry mouth was from sun poisoning at all any more. Clumsily, he found one of the disposable toothbrushes on the counter next to a complimentary tube of toothpaste. He ran the brush beneath the tap, just as Cas shot him a wink and wrenched the curtain closed.

It was somehow both better and worse, not being able to see them. By some miracle, he brushed his teeth without evaporating on the spot, left only with vague silhouettes, Luca’s breathy cries, and the stream of pure filth Cas was murmuring in Luca’s ear as he brought them closer to the edge.

Stubbornness had Gabriel straightening his shoulders.

‘Since your genius plan to steal a vehicle has brought us here far too early,’ Gabriel snapped, his voice coming out rough in a way he hoped didn’t reveal just how turned on he was, ‘I’m going to check there are no other vampires in the immediate vicinity. We can make a plan when I get back, grab some lunch, and head out when night falls. You better have some pants on by then, Harlow.’

Cas barked a dark laugh.

‘Sure thing, President Adalhard. Whatever you say.’

***

Gabriel supposed Cas had technically followed his orders. The door swung closed behind him a mere twenty minutes later —during which time, he’d steadfastly refused to jerk off in a random hotel bathroom somewhere— and the resounding click of the lock was deafening to his over-sensitive ears.

Cas was wearing pants. Even if he wasn’t wearing anything else.

Luca lay draped over Cas’s bare chest in a fluffy white robe, their thigh flushed pink from their shower where the split in the fabric left it bare. The two of them were making out —because of course they were— their touches heavy with slow-burning lust.

Gabriel was going to lose his fucking mind. He decided to fall back on an old habit and channel his frustration into administrative strictness.

‘Okay,’ he said sharply, and Luca jumped in mild surprise. ‘We have a few hours left until sundown which is more than enough time to make a plan of attack. I’ve managed to get a lead—’

‘If we have plenty of time, can’t this wait until later?’ Cas complained, stroking a hand over Luca’s hair.

Gabriel huffed an annoyed breath through his nose. ‘I’d really rather know what the plan is ahead of time so I can think through some possible contingencies.’

‘Okay, alright, fine.’ Cas tugged Luca to the side with a fistful of their hair, sucking a bruise into their neck. ‘You want a plan? Arson. Boom, done.’

Gabriel raised an eyebrow with every ounce of derision in his body. ‘Arson. That’s your plan?’

‘Yeah! Arson is always Plan A, duh. “Get a can of gas and set shit on fire” — as far as plans go, it’s literally flawless.’ Cas smirked. ‘I’m sure we can find a gas tank or two around here somewhere. In the meantime, someone was about to suck my dick, so.’

Cas gestured vaguely, impatient, and Luca snickered, before ducking their head, chastened.

‘Sorry, Gabriel,’ Luca said, scrambling out of Cas’s embrace and tugging their robe closed. ‘Making a plan is a good idea. We’ll behave.’

Cas waited until Luca stood before he pounced; he hooked an arm around their waist and tossed them, laughing, back down on the bed.

‘No, we won’t!’ Cas shot Gabriel a mocking smile that was half-lidded and all challenge.

For a moment, all Gabriel could think about were Cas’s whispered words in the shower.

You know what happens to brats who don’t know how to behave.

Suddenly, Gabriel’s temper flared again. If anyone was a brat who didn’t know when to fucking quit, it was Cassius goddamn hellspawn Harlow.

‘Can you not keep your hands to yourself for more than a minute at a time?’ Gabriel muttered, scrubbing a tired hand over his forehead. ‘Should have left you cuffed to the bed in the van.’

Cas’s eyes widened in shocked delight at Gabriel’s words — his gaze darted sideways to the bedside table, and Gabriel realised with a gasp what had caught his attention.

The handcuffs. Cas had brought them with him to the hotel room.

The air seemed to swim slow and thick around him as Gabriel found his words.

‘What?’ Gabriel said, his voice humming with barely leashed fury. ‘Is that what it’s going to take to get you to behave yourself for five seconds? You need me to handcuff you, Cas?’

Cas’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. ‘You don’t have the guts.’

Gabriel turned his head slowly, watching as Cas lounged back against the headboard. A curious tension vibrated in the line of his shoulders, the angled jut of his jaw.

‘Cassius,’ Gabriel said carefully, dangerously. ‘My patience is running thin. Now, if you actually want me to handcuff you to that headboard, then keep pushing me and see what happens.’

Cas blew out a long breath. Licking his lips, he glanced at Luca. The heat didn’t recede from his gaze; far from it, Cas’s pupils were blown and simmering with arousal. A slow grin spread on his face, and Gabriel felt his jaw harden in response.

Along with… other things. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go at all!

‘Now,’ Gabriel said, trying to forcibly wrench his thoughts away from the direction his dick was very eager for them to go, ‘Luca and I are going to think about how we might approach the enemy camp, and you are going to behave yourself.’

‘Make me.’

Cas’s words rang out like gunshots in the tense silence. Something authoritative and commanding in Gabriel roared to the surface, steeling his spine.

Gabriel was moving at vampiric speed before he even registered it himself — he slammed Cas’s arm up against the headboard, locking one end of the handcuffs around his wrist, the other against the ornate wooden post of the bed frame. He tugged his belt from around his waist, looping it around Cas’s other wrist and buckling it tight against the headboard so the leather bit oh-so-sweetly into his skin.

The whole thing took less than a second.

Luca looked between them, their mouth falling open. Gabriel gave the belt a firm tug to make sure the cocky idiot wasn’t breaking free any time soon, before stepping back from Cas with a satisfied smile.

‘What the fuck,’ Cas whispered. ‘He actually did it.’

‘Oh my god,’ Luca said, ‘what is happening? Because if you want to plan, I’ll totally plan, but this is alarmingly hot and I was really looking forward to choking on a cock—’

Gabriel’s eyes flicked to Cas. He allowed the smallest amount of smug vindictiveness to creep into his otherwise level expression.

‘I never said you couldn’t.’

Suspicion flickered over Cas’s face. Casting a grin at them both, Luca pressed a hand to Cas’s thigh, but Gabriel cut them off before they could move.

‘Oh, no, no,’ Gabriel said, his voice polite and measured in a way he knew would drive Cas insane. ‘I didn’t mean you could suck his dick.’

Gabriel tugged his sweater over his head and tossed it onto the bed. Cas’s eyes grew huge, until they were pools of molten chocolate, swimming and stark against the shocked pallor of his skin.

‘You motherfucker.’

Cas watched in a hypnotised trace as Gabriel unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, beckoning Luca toward him as he sank back onto the couch opposite the bed. Luca’s discarded towel lay rumpled and damp beneath his spread thighs.

‘What the fuck,’ Cas said again, a breathy whisper that ended in a gasp as Gabriel pulled Luca into his lap and drew them close for a languid kiss.

Gabriel smoothed a palm down Luca’s spine, tugging the robe off their shoulders until it pooled on the floor, the fingers of his other hand kneading the muscle of their hip. Luca leaned into the kiss, making short work of the remaining buttons on Gabriel’s shirt until it was hanging open either side of his body.

Cas let out a choked sound as Luca left a trail of wet marks down Gabriel’s torso, kissing their way from his chest to his navel to the dark trail of hair disappearing into his trousers.

‘O’Rinn, don’t you dare,’ Cas whispered, his eyes glued to the bare sweep of skin at the top of Gabriel’s slacks.

His jeans were looking uncomfortably tight, Gabriel thought, and his stomach grew hot at the idea that this was turning Cas on. After so many hours of letting Cas get under his skin, Gabriel was quickly finding how fun it was to have the upper hand. He stilled Luca with a light touch on their shoulder, glancing at Cas where he bucked against his restraints.

‘Are you going to stop being an absolute pain in the ass and listen to me?’ Gabriel asked.

Cas’s eyes glittered with eagerness.

‘No,’ he shot back. Goading him, challenging him. ‘Its not like you’re actually gonna do anything about it, Adalhard.’

‘Suit yourself.’ Gabriel popped the top button of his slacks, and Luca quickly got the hint — with a few quick movements, Luca freed Gabriel from his slacks, wrapping their fingers around him with an ardent hunger.

‘Oh my god,’ Cas choked, his hips jerking into the air, and the desperation in his voice was all the encouragement Luca needed. Licking their lips, Luca took Gabriel into his mouth and swallowed him to the hilt.

Gabriel released his breath in a long, shuddering exhale, biting down on his lip as Luca sank down on him again and again and again. Seeming to realise he might need a little more time to be eased into things, Luca pulled back, circling their tongue around the head of his cock before they licked a series of long, wet lines from base to tip.

Cas followed their every move with a spellbound enchantment. A flush rode high in his cheeks, his lips parted with a wild desperation. The minutes wore on as Luca fisted a hand at the base of Gabriel’s cock and drew out a kind of pleasure from him that Gabriel hadn’t even been aware it was possible to feel, narrowing the scope of his senses until all he could hear were the wet, sensual sounds issuing from Luca’s mouth and the hammering music of Cas’s heartbeat.

‘Alright, enough, Adalhard,’ Cas ground out at last, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. ‘Give me back my boyfriend already. My zipper is about to cut my fucking cock off, I’m that hard.’

Gabriel let his head tip back on the couch, his eyes fluttering closed. ‘You’re a vampire, Cassius. It’ll regenerate.’

‘Wait, actually?’ Luca stared up at him, a flush in his freckled cheeks and genuine interest in his eyes. He continued to stroke Gabriel’s length absent-mindedly with one hand, and Gabriel was abruptly caught in some in-between place as desire and laughter got all tangled up in his chest.

‘Does vampiric healing extend to regrowing limbs completely?’ Luca asked. ‘What if a person is missing a limb before they are turned, what happens then? Or if they have donated a kidney or something, does it grow back when they are a vampire?’

From behind him on the bed, Cas gave an agonised groan. ‘You seriously want a lore dump now?! Fucking hell, New Kid!’

‘Later,’ Gabriel chuckled, stroking a thumb across Luca’s cheekbone and relishing in the warmth of their skin. ‘I don’t think Cas has quite suffered enough yet, do you?’

Letting his expression grow more heated than he’d ever let Cas —let anyone— witness before, Gabriel took himself in hand, pumping over his cock in firm, relentless strokes. Guiding Luca forward, he lined himself up with their mouth once more.

‘Tus besos me enloquecen,’ Gabriel murmured, his gaze lingering on Luca’s mouth as he rubbed the head of his cock against their lower lip. ‘Let me feel your mouth again, mi corazón.’

Cas’s growl of frustrated arousal almost had Gabriel laughing; Luca’s tongue as he took him in his mouth again almost had him tipping over the edge.

Gabriel heard a metallic ping as Cas wrenched his arm forward, snapping clean through the chain link of the handcuffs. He watched, fascinated, as Cas popped open the button of his jeans, tugging down his fly to take his throbbing length in hand, his wrist still circleted by the broken metal cuff.

Fisting his hand, Cas began to jerk himself off with an almost violent fury. He shuddered out a breath, his neck arching long and taut with fine muscle, his chest expanding with every shaky inhale, and for the life of him, Gabriel couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Cas was exquisite. Unfortunately for him, Gabriel was still in one hell of a mood.

Gently, Gabriel tugged at Luca’s hair. Luca pulled off his cock after a few more strokes, gazing up at him in sated contentment. Gabriel cupped their jaw, stroking a thumb across the wetness of their lips.

‘Go let Cas know exactly what he’s missing out on, hmm? Don’t let him have anything he wants.’

A slow smile crept across Luca’s face. Blearily, they wandered over to the bed, settling into Cas’s lap and stroking their hands over his chest.

The two met in a kiss that was tantalising and slow. Cas dragged his teeth across Luca’s lower lip, the head of his cock nudging at the juncture of Luca’s thighs where they knelt above him. A groan tore from Cas’s throat; his hips snapped up, chasing some kind of friction, his free hand demanding as he cupped Luca’s ass and squeezed.

Gabriel clicked his tongue.

‘What did I say, Luca?’ Rising, and feeling a quiet thrill at the way Cas’s eyes snapped to rake over his body, widening as he drank in the sight of Gabriel’s flushed cock, thick and heavy before him, Gabriel drew closer to the bed. He placed a commanding hand on Luca’s lower back.

‘Cas doesn’t get anything. Not until he learns that his behaviour has consequences.’

Obediently, Luca pulled back, leaving Cas chasing empty air and swearing a blue streak. A seductive sense of power coursed through Gabriel’s body as Luca shot Cas a lazy smirk, then bent his head to take Gabriel back into his mouth once more.

‘Oh, fucking Christ, Adalhard!’ Cas’s thighs clenched and unclenched with desperate need that had nowhere to go, his cock jerking uselessly in the empty air. ‘Are you trying to kill me?’

Gabriel panted heavily, his head spinning in a dizzying rush as Cas’s eyes bored into him, their gazes locked and electricity crackling between them. If this was a challenge, Gabriel wasn’t about to back down.

He fisted his hand in Cas’s hair.

‘You’re already dead, my darling,’ Gabriel said, leaning down to whisper right in Cas’s ear. ‘I guess you’re just going to have to learn to take it.’

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, who taught him to talk like that?’ Cas said in a broken gasp. A moan punched out of him as Luca wrapped a hand around his cock, jerking him off while they sucked Gabriel until they choked. ‘Fuck, that’s so unfair! Hhh, god, yes!’

Spearing his fingers through Luca’s hair, Cas held Luca’s head in place for a moment while Gabriel was buried to the hilt. A ragged moan ripped from Gabriel’s throat as Cas started to guide Luca’s head back and forth over his cock.

Gabriel wasn’t sure what it was that pushed him over the edge; whether it was the utterly delicious feeling of Luca’s mouth dragging over his hard length, or if it was the sight of Cas unravelling beneath him, twisting and bucking on the precipice of his own orgasm. Either way, it came upon Gabriel in a tidal wave; his spine locked and he all but screamed his pleasure as he came hot and thick down Luca’s throat.

Luca didn’t swallow right away, and it was with absolute rapture that Gabriel saw Cas grab Luca by the chin, hauling them close to stroke his tongue across their lips, drawing them in for a kiss that Gabriel knew, he knew would taste of him.

Cas rolled his tongue into Luca’s mouth with a muted roar, coming in feverish waves the moment he tasted Gabriel on his tongue. His own release spattered in wet ropes across his abdomen. His whole body glistened with sweat as he sagged back against the headboard, one arm still pinned in place by Gabriel’s belt and his head lolling deliriously in Gabriel’s grip.

‘Fuck,’ Cas rasped out, his eyes drifting shut as Luca pressed an affectionate kiss to his neck.

Gabriel tugged his belt free, massaging Cas’s wrist gently as his arm sagged limp in his grip. Luca snuggled in next to him, catching Gabriel’s eye as their shoulders shook in quiet laughter. They prodded playfully at his shoulder.

‘Are we sure Cas is immortal? Because I think you actually did kill him a little bit, Gabe.’

Cas batted at Luca’s hand, grinning, his eyes evidently too heavy to open. ‘Fuck you both.’

Luca huffed a laugh. ‘Somehow I don’t think you really have the energy for that right now.’

But he would one day, Gabriel realised with a delicious shiver. One day, he was sure of it — Cas was going to pay Gabriel back for the exquisite torture he’d just put him through.

Gabriel just hoped the anticipation wouldn’t kill him first.

[iamlostsomewhereinthegarden]

OHSHC Host club cooking and baking Headcannons

Aka how good they bake and cook

Haruhi

* Haruhi is average at both cooking and baking

* Since she has to make stuff to insure that she and her father aren’t starving

* Also because her father doesn’t cook

* Really extensive knowledge though on all sorts of dishes

* Her father also did say in the anime that she was cooking and taking on the housework from very young

* On top of that Haruhi made hotpot when the host club randomly barged in on het and they liked it

* also even though the vist was a surprise she wasn’t nervous in making anything and just went to the grocery store so safe to says she good at making stuff and it’s edible

Kyouya

* Kyoya is in between average and master,

* He tried to pick it up in order to impress his dad in something his brothers couldn’t do and was better than his sister

* He did so well he actually did get a bit of congratulations but ended up having to teach his sister on how to bake and cook so not so much a nice thing but he did get attention for a bit

* Also because he was able to teach her and his sister became really good at being a wife I’d say he’s really good at it

Honey

* It would be a lie to say he’s not amazing af at baking

* He’s dogshit at cooking anything that wouldn’t include sweets mostly though

* Truly it’s because he has no interest in them so he never cared or cares to learn

* Like if it’s pancakes and such he can cook them amazingly but frying an egg, not so well

* If he was invested in it he’d be amazing in the food world

* Is somehow good at making chocolate from scratch along with syrup, honey and even sugar?

* Man likes his sweets lmao

Mori

* On the other hand as Mori came from a long line of butlers he is very good at both

* Actually a master and is amazing af at it

* Like sir? I’d cook for you but I think my food would pale in comparison to what you eat and can make

* He can make and do anything

* Like Honey being able to make syrup and stuff, Mori can do the same and better

* Sebastian Michael has competition

* There isn’t much to say here he’s too amazing

Kaoru

* Does baking as a hobby

* So he’s decently good at it but can still mess up at times

* He likes it, it’s fun to him and he enjoys it though

* Let’s him do commoner stuff without being weird

* And also makes him normal and not some weird creepy twin

* Finds it relaxing and a way to get Hikaru to go away as he doesn’t like cooking and baking

Hikaru

* For Hikaru he doesn’t like baking and such

* His brother does it so why should he? It’s his brother’s thing and twins should be able to do separate things right?

* He just has no talent in the kitchen don’t let him near one or else the whole place is on fire

* But before even trying he found cooking and baking unnecessary as they have people to do it for them so why should he have to learn it

* Prefers video games and more exciting things

* Renge is better than him

* Has been banned from the Home EC Room for a prank he’s done and not fit cooking

* Like literally has it taken off of his schedule and he can’t pick it ever not that he wants to

* When it’s found out how bad his cooking and baking is the teachers were relieved

* One of the very few classes both twins don’t take together

* Doesn’t care much, more time for pranks and video games!

Tamaki

* dogshit don’t let him close to the stove

* It’s a good thing Haruhi knows how to cook and that he’s rich or else they were fucked

* Has poisoned the host club with his food and has since been banned from entering the kitchen

* Is also checked daily to make sure he hasn’t made anything

* Worse part is, the food actually looks good

* Renge is better than him but he’s better than Hikaru

* Has been banned from the Home EC Room also

* Like literally has it taken off of his schedule and he can’t pick it either like Hikaru

* Very sad over it

* Plays it to the girls he hosts as a curse or finds some thing around it in order to bring more customers so there’s that

* “I can’t cook for myself, so how would I survive without the cooking of my lovely maiden?”

Thanks a lot for reading! Ik I’ve been very non active for a while, but life is life ya know what I mean?

I have a couple more headcannons coming soon, but they’re all in the idea phases and I get writers burnout easily since writing isn’t my fave thing

But I’ll try to get them in quick, thanks again for reading!

[dogfishmonger]

Clutch

A story by @dogfishmonger

With art by @dolgoyangi

Coming to @deancashorrorfest in October.

Rating: M Relevant warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply; non-graphic underage content; body horror Word count: Approx. 13,000

Dean is a normal, stable man in his 20s: He has a job. He has a boyfriend of three years, even if they're on the rocks. He has a little brother in pre-law. There are, simultaneously, things in his upbringing that he simply isn't supposed to question: His father's unexplained, undefined trips out of state. His mother's death. The body he once found in the basement. When Sam runs off in search of answers, Dean and Cas head east to find him. But after catching up with him, something's... different. Wrong. Dean and Cas are at odds—again—with Dean believing that Sam is in danger, and Cas suspicious that Sam is the danger. Returning to normalcy will involve more digging into forbidden territory than Dean was ever prepared for Cas to see. In the end, he doesn't even know if it was worth it. They're left with just as many questions as answers, and the answers they do have are ugly, insidious things, glistening oil-spill black and undulating. Excerpt under the cut:

Dean hadn’t had a single dream.  

He felt… fine, actually.  The fear in the depths of his stomach had felt, for days, like grasping a violently vibrating metal handrail.  It buzzed; it almost hurt.  

It hummed, just then.  Unbidden, he thought, it’s almost over.

The Impala was old—made after the iron age of vehicle design, sure, but thankfully well before the partial switch to plastic.  In an affectionate sense, it was a giant aluminum can. 

That is to say: the rain was loud.  

For the first five years they lived in Ashmer, the house had a tin roof.  It was built in the 1890s or something, back when people still did that shit.  There was a bad storm when Dean was nine or ten, maybe a hurricane, he couldn’t remember.  He just remembered taking Sam down to the basement, where they weren’t allowed to go, where there was still a stain on the concrete floor. 

When they came back up in the morning, a tree had fallen into the kitchen. 

The roof got redone. 

They made it from to the old house in relatively short time.  Ashmer was similar to a lot of towns in the hollers of northern Appalachia: you were in the forest, and then the trees cleared out and you were in a town.  It was small, both in terms of population and geography. 

As for the house, it was empty.  Either it just happened to be empty, or it had remained empty ever since the Winchesters had left.  People in the mountains tended to drift toward the superstitious.  Dean wouldn’t be surprised if the house had taken on a sort of Boo Radley mantle.   John had disappeared temporarily on the regular, and only once, when it was time for the finale, permanently.  DHHR had come, the police had come, cleaners had come.  The details weren’t widely available, but people had to know.  There was something wrong with that house.  There had been something wrong with the boys who had lived in it. 

So, Dean didn’t doubt that no one had moved in.  

Cas said something, but it sounded just like the low rumble of heavy June rain.  Dean was still tired, syrupy and nebulous; it was like he’d been cut loose, like all his adrenaline had been burned off at the state border.

He hadn’t expected that. 

Cas said something again.  Dean just let it wash over him, warm and familiar and laving.  Cas sounded calm almost all the time. 

Dean felt Cas’ hand on his arm, and a half-moment later, the car rolled to a gentle stop.  

“We’re here,” Cas said.  

Here, Dean repeated to himself.  Here as in Ashmer, or— He tried his hardest to make out what lay beyond the dashboard.  The headlights were on, but it was exceedingly, impressively dark outside.  The rain beat down in solid-looking sheets.  There was something there, vaguely person-shaped, somewhat shrunken, maybe just hunched. 

“I think that’s your brother on the porch.”

[writtenonreceipts]

Prompt The things we can't say: Rhys telling his mom and sister he's dating (like Rhys' mom trying to make him date😂😂 he's like 😅 heee I'm fine and he ends up saying he's dating😂😂😂 I think it would too funny and cute)

last fic update for the year!  TTWCS reached over 6k hits on ao3, which i know in comparison to other writers is miniscule, but it means a lot this random story i started writing this year means something to you all.  happy new years and stay safe friends!

The Things We Cannot Say Masterlist // AO3

warnings: none, just my timeline is a mess so don’t ask me details on that...my bad.

...

The Things We Tell Others

>>Miss you ;)

The text from Feyre winked across his screen and he couldn’t help but smirk down at it.  They’d only been dating four months at this point, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t already infatuated with her.

They’d spent so much time together already, with her coming to the club, him visiting her at her art studio, and time in between talking or meeting for coffee.  The past few days they’d both been busy though and their communication was strictly text.

<<Miss you too.

He sent the message and headed into the small cafe a few blocks away from the club.  It didn’t take him long to find the two people he was meeting.

“Rhys!”

Thea lept from her seat in the back corner and was navigating through the other tables to throw herself at him.  Rhys caught his sister easily and pulled her into a bone crushing hug.  She smelled like lavender and lemon, familiar and comforting.

“Hey kid,” he laughed, swinging her around.  He released her and held her back at an arm's length. “When did you get so tall?”

Thea rolled her eyes. “It’s the curse of the Avitas’.  C’mon!  We ordered some mini-donuts.”

Rhys let his sister pull him back to the table where their mother was still waiting.  Alanna was beaming and wasted no time in standing and pulling him into a hug.

“I am so glad you’re here,” Alanna told him.

“Of course, I’m here,” Rhys replied.  He gave his mother a look, keeping a firm hold on her hand.

“I know that your father tried to get you to come to the event next week,” Alanna said. “I don’t know what he said or did, but…well it must have given him enough guilt because here we are.”

They took their seats again and a waiter came by to get Rhys some water.

“It’s fine,” Rhys said. “I wanted to see the two of you.  It’s worth it.”

While Rhys had been cut off from the family, to Benham’s devout insistence--things had changed in the last year.  Now that Rhys’ business was doing well and he’d even been asked to attend some networking events and do more networking that he couldn't pass off to Cas or AZ unless they were supervised.

At one such event he'd met his father, the first time seeing him in a long while. As it turned out the family business needed to host an event and The Court had been chosen. Without Benham knowing of course.  But it would mean having to interact with his father more than usual. But they'd come to an agreement that Rhys could see his mother and sister. Once. For now. Rhys was still a disappointment and failure to the family name of course.

"Now,” Alanna said, "tell me everything.  How are my other boys?"

"They're good," Rhys smiled, his mother had always seen Cas and Azriel as her own ever since Rhys brought them over at eight after giving Cas a black eye. His mother had asked no questions and only opened up her heart to let them in.

"Just good? Are you sure you boys are eating enough? I can go to the store with you and fill your fridge." Alanna was entirely serious.  If Rhys wasn't careful, his mother would indeed go to the store for him.  She’d then go to Home Goods and Costco just to be on the safe side.

“Mother,” Rhys began.

Alanna waved a hand, cutting him off.  "I just want to make sure you're taken care of."

"I know," he said. "and I'm glad you're here, you and Thea."

"Oh thanks, I thought you forgot about me again,” Thea said casually.  Rhys rolled his eyes and Alanna sighed.  Thea grinned. “Just saying it’s been five minutes and you haven’t even asked how I am.”

“How are you Thea?” Rhys asked patiently.  She kicked him beneath the table.

“I got into advanced chemistry, thanks for asking,” Thea replied. “Now, the important question is, how are you?  I’m supposed to be the one to ask you so mom can tell you she wants to set you up with someone.”

Alanna let out another sigh and dragged the small plate of mini-donuts closer to herself.

“Althea,” Alana chided. Though, in Rhys’ opinion, she looked none too upset by Thea’s brazen words.

“Please, ma, you would have taken twenty minutes to get there,” Thea said, a happy little grin sliding across her features, “this way we get to see Rhys make that face.”

Indeed, Rhys was making a face.  He could feel his eyes widen, frown deepen, and a sense of unease flood his body.  Hell.

“Mother,” Rhys began.

Alanna waved a hand to dismiss his comments. “I have a friend with a daughter that just graduated, she’s teaching kindergarten and is a delight.  I can give you her number.  You can’t scare her off.  I know you, Rhysand.  Just because you own a nightclub doesn’t mean anything.”

“Mother,” Rhys said again.  Thea pulled her phone out with a great flourish, training it on him to capture each of his reactions.  Rhys glared while she grinned. “I don’t need anyone’s number.”

His mother only raised a brow in that way he had missed.

“I haven’t smothered you in long enough,” she reminded him, “consider this is me making up for lost time.”

“Ma,” Rhys said.  He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “You can smother me all you want, but I’m alright in this.”

“Are you telling me,” Alanna said, leaning across the table to examine her son carefully, a far too knowing look in her eyes, “what I think you’re telling me?”

Alanna had long been pestering Rhys about dating. And if she wasn't on his case she was on Azriel or Cassian's. Her boys, as she said, were too good to be wasted on not caring about anything. And she wanted grandbabies.

He gave an exasperated sigh and stole a donut hole from the little tray before taking his phone from his pocket.  He unlocked the screen and pulled up his home screen where rested a picture of Feyre.  He’d captured it just last week when they’d gone to the farmers market.  She’d practically danced from stall to stall as she examined everything and spent the most time examining art and oil paintings.  This picture was of her burying her nose in a bouquet of flowers.  Her dark blonde hair fell in loose waves around her.  The freckles he loved were bright as stars on her skin.

“This is Feyre,” he said, passing the phone to his mother and sister. “We’ve been dating a few months now.”

“She’s pretty,” Thea said.  She snagged the phone and did a thorough examination. “What’s she doing with someone like you?”

“Ha,” Rhys replied.  

“How did you meet? What does she do?  Is she originally from Velaris?” Alanna launched into question after question.  Rhys knew what she was really asking: can I meet her?

And as he answered questions and accepted the teasing--Rhys realized that, yeah, he would really want his mom and sister to meet Feyre.

...

tags-bolded tags wouldn’t link

@aelinchocolatelover  // @sexy-dumpster-fire // @bamchickawowow // @ireallyshouldsleeprn // @courtofjurdan // @sassys-world // @sleeping-and-books // @superspiritfestival // @chieflemming // @julemmaes // @lysandra-ghost-leopard // @firestarsandseneschals // @emikadreams // @rapunzel1523 // @booksofthemoon // @highladysith // @fangirlprincess09 // @rowaelinismyotp // @vanzetanze // @cassianscool // @stardelia // @my-fan-side // @sjmships // @tillyrubes10 // @rhysandswhore  //  @story-scribbler  // @post-it-notes33 // @live-the-fangirl-life // @strangevil321 // @pastasiren // @lemonade-coolattas @foreverfallingforthestars // @feysand-loml // @realbookloverproblems // @ghostlyrose2 // @swankii-art-teacher // @foughtconquered // @bri-loves-sunflowers // @captain-swan-is-endgame  // @mystic-bibliophile // @cretaceous-therapod // @thenightgodess-feyrearcheron //  @thisloveseternal // @gracie-rosee // @magnifique1807 // @liars-lmao // @goddess-aelin // @thegloweringcastle // @tangledinsparkles // @the-lonelybarricade // @millsarcherfeykat // @sideralwriting // @nerdperson524 // @the-fae-are-taking-over // @sushisempai // @jenibearx3 // @the-introverted-bibliophile //