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thebiggerbear · 2 months

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"What do you see in him?" "Everything you don't." - Soldier Boy Prompt Response

Summary: Hughie and everyone don't understand what you see in Soldier Boy but they also haven't seen what you've seen: Ben.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Supe!Reader

A/N: This is part of the Soldier Boy/Beau Arlen/Dean Winchester/CJ Braxton/Alec McDowell/Jason Teague/Tom Hanniger/Russell Shaw/Boaz Priestly/Jake Gray/Jensen Ackles RPF prompt response project I've been working on the last month (previewed here). This idea immediately popped into my head for it.

All unbeta'd.

Warnings: language; implied past sexual assault (not SB); mentions of implied drug use; mentions of violence; mentions of death

Word Count: 2199

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel; @hobby27; @impala67rollingthroughtown

Soldier Boy Taglist: @birdiellie; @heartlessdelusions; @brightlilith; @muhahaha303; @just-levyy; @solacedthistest; @deansimpala; @foxyjwls007; @onlyangel-444; @faephoria; @believeinthefireflies95

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx; @lyarr24; @bts24; @deans-spinster-witch; @rebel-paladin; @nancymcl

Once MM stormed out of the room, followed by a glaring Butcher, Annie, Kimiko, and Hughie descended on you. Frenchie stayed in the corner, beyond shocked — so shocked he forgot to puff away at his still burning cigarette.

“Seriously?” Annie spat angrily.

Hughie looked more disappointed than pissed off at you, and that somehow bothered you more than Annie’s fury ever could have. “Y/N, you’ve got to explain this one to me. I don’t…” He took a deep breath and began again. “The guy’s a fossil. A racist, homicidal, perverted piece of shit fossil.” Hughie placed his hands on his hips. “What do you even see in the guy?”

Kimiko furiously signed a repeat of the question.

You knew Hughie was right. Soldier Boy had done a lot of fucked up shit — shit that wasn’t forgivable in any way, shape, or form. But you also knew Ben, the man underneath all of that asinine machismo and false bravado. You’d seen glimpses of him here and there when no one else had, when Ben himself hadn’t even known you had. It also didn’t hurt that you’d seen memories of his childhood play in his mind or saw flashes of his strained relationship with his father — the man he could never live up to or gain his approval, no matter how hard he tried. There was a lot swimming underneath the surface of that green suit, under that indestructible skin, that had gotten corrupted and then shaped by easy fame, a greedy corporation, and more drugs than any person should have coursing through their system on a daily basis, even a Supe. All of it was certainly no excuse for the things he’d done, but you knew there was more to him than who he’d been, who he was now even — you’d literally seen it.

So you looked your oldest friend in the eye and spoke as honestly as you could. “Everything you don’t,” you told him quietly before walking out of the room in the opposite direction MM and Butcher had gone in. You came to a stop outside the door when you saw Ben standing there, his green eyes watching you sharply.

He had obviously heard every word and while it wasn’t exactly something you wanted him to find out, you refused to act embarrassed or caught out. So you stuck your chin up a little higher, daring him to say something he would end up regretting should he piss you off.

“You saw a lot more than you let on when they had you do a read on me after pulling me out of the tube.” Not a question but a statement, one that didn’t contain any traces of surprise.

He was right; you had seen plenty — some things you’d rather forget. But you had meant what you said to Hughie just before, to Butcher and the team before that. There was more to him than the green suit, than the America’s Son bullshit facade, and even the horrible things he had done in his time. There was something there worth trying to extricate, to let see the light of day that hadn’t in a very long time.

You didn’t respond to what he’d said; you had no need to. You only watched him as he watched you.

Ben took a few wary steps forward until he was right in front of you. He carefully reached out a hand to your cheek, laying his fingers along your skin when he saw that you didn’t immediately pull away from him.

“So,” he started, his voice a little more gravelly than usual as he spoke quietly to you, only for your ears and his. He tenderly ran his thumb near the corner of your mouth. “I matter to you, huh?”

When you thought he was indeed making fun of you as he thought he might, echoing your words back to you, you noticed a small smile forming on his face as his eyes roamed over yours. You had seen plenty of smiles from the man since you’d first seen him a couple of months ago or so — mostly smug smirks or leering grins, usually aimed at everyone but you — but you had never seen this one before. It caught you off guard so much, you were captivated. “You know you do,” you murmured.

He stared at you for a moment, glancing between you and your mouth, and then slowly leaned in. When his lips gently connected to yours, you felt an immediate electric shock travel through your system. So much so that you started seeing images playing behind your eyelids that weren’t your own.

…Him listening to you and Hughie bicker in the next room about which Billy Joel song was the best (We Didn’t Start the Fire for you and Pressure for him) and how he smiled to himself when you told Hughie in a playful tone to suck it when the little whiny bitch tried to show you what the critics helmed the better song.

…Ben getting angry when some piece of shit Supe had the balls to put his hand on your ass at Herogasm — a hand he immediately crushed.

…Him surreptitiously studying each interaction between you and Butcher, noting the hostility but begrudging respect between you, wondering if there was a story there and if there was, how he planned to convince you that he was the better man for you compared to the backstabbing Brit.

…Him rushing to protect you with his shield when one of Homelander’s team of misfits you didn’t see coming nearly killed you with a massive blow. You felt the rage coursing through his veins when he noticed a small trickle of blood coming from a wound near your scalp as you glanced up at him gratefully. Most of the Supes you had engaged had died that day and now you knew exactly why.

…Ben watching you out of the corner of his eye when you stood at the window, arms crossed and ominously silent, after MM had mentioned The Deep while planning on how to take out Homelander. He waited until everyone had cleared out, even Hughie who had squeezed your shoulder as he passed you by, and Ben carefully approached you from behind, torn between wanting to pull you back into his large frame to cage you protectively in his arms or to ask what was the matter. He had ended up going with the latter and you simply said “Kevin’s not a good person” and walked away, your shoulders a little more sunken down than he’d ever seen them. You felt his resolve from that moment and now knew why he had gone after The Deep with such a laser focus before even bothering with Homelander.

…You reassuring him when he suddenly woke from a sound sleep, gasping and wide-eyed, as his chest began glowing — a result of him not self-medicating nearly as much as he used to. He had wanted you to feel safe around him so he’d cut back on the Bennies, the reefer, the booze, and even the women. He would never admit it out loud but he cared deeply about what you thought. Unbeknownst to you at the time, when you had first seen inside his head, he had gotten a glimpse inside of yours, too. And what he had seen…he wanted to be a man worthy of you. Or at least try his best. You were everything he hadn’t even known he wanted until that moment. So he had made a valiant effort to kick the drug and alcohol habit to the side but it didn’t come without consequences for him. Ben had dreamt he was back in Russia, stuck in a box as they poked and prodded at him, laughing and telling him he would never be free and he would never see anyone again. When he heard your voice telling him he was safe, he grasped for you and you let him, even though he felt you tense up at his greedy touch. “Sorry,” he gruffed out and immediately released you, worried he had either hurt you without meaning to or had made you uncomfortable in his bid to make sure you were real. “It’s okay,” you whispered, picking up his hand and placing it in between both of yours. “I’m right here. You’re safe.” When he felt your thumb tenderly swiping over his knuckles in reassuring strokes, he rasped out, “Did you see?” Instead of answering, you reached up to lay a hand against his cheek. “You’re home now and you’re never going back.” Your words were a fiery promise enforced by the steely resolve in your eyes. “I won’t let you.” He gently held his hand over yours and the glow in his chest receded; he believed you.

…Him watching you as you slept on the opposite end of the couch. You mumbled and sighed a lot in your sleep and it fascinated him. Earlier, when you had found the show he wanted, he had asked you to sit and watch with him, just in case he didn’t understand any of the references. You had obliged and promptly drifted off two episodes in. To Ben, it was a huge ego boost; you felt safe and comfortable enough around him that you could fall asleep near him. As he watched you, hearing your sounds, he really wanted to know what you were dreaming about, especially when your brows knit together and you let out a terrified whimper. He had picked you up without waking you and held you close to him. “You’re okay, doll,” he promised in a soothing murmur to your hairline. “I’ve got you and nothing is going to happen. I won’t let it.” He heard you inhale deeply and then release a contented sigh a moment later. You relaxed in his arms, curling into him, and he stayed like that the entire night: holding you as he watched episode after episode of Friends, something he had only picked because he thought you might like it enough to agree when he planned to ask you to stay. As much as he enjoyed the sound of your voice when you patiently explained things to him, the night turned out even better than he dared to hope, especially when you subconsciously buried your face into his neck and stayed cocooned there. Only when he heard you beginning to stir back into consciousness hours later did he gently place you back in the spot you fell asleep in, pretending not to notice when you fully woke up, opening one sleepy eye to find him in front of you. He shrugged off your apology and glanced over to find you softly smiling at him, causing a strange twinge to happen inside his chest, something reminiscent of when the nuclear reactor inside of him went off but far less dangerous…and much more pleasant.

The images faded as he slowly pulled back a few inches, his green gaze staring deeply into yours. “Was that okay?”

You slowly nodded, still beyond shocked not only at what you had seen or how gentle the kiss had been, but also the sensations it had caused to sweep through you — things you were pretty sure you’d never feel in your lifetime. Hints of desire and a lightness whispered throughout your body as another stronger emotion gained a foothold and blanketed your entire being. Whereas it might have frightened you before, it didn’t now. You knew you were safe, protected, and after this kiss, you now also knew you were cherished to a certain extent.

Almost as if he knew what you were thinking, fleeting relief gave way to a small smile on his face and he tenderly placed his thumb on your chin. “Good. Because you matter to me, too.”

You couldn’t help but smile in return, seeing his eyes light up, and you gently framed his face in your hands. You stood on the tips of your toes and pressed your lips to his again, eager to see more as he willingly put his guard down to let you completely in. You also wanted to experience that rush of sensations again with him and this time when he wrapped his arms around you to carefully hold you against him, you buried your fingers into his hair and only deepened the kiss. It wasn’t Soldier Boy who was kissing you back and whose thumb tenderly brushed against your jawline; it was Ben — the very Ben you’d seen hidden underneath all of the layers of toxic masculinity, simmering rage, and the Supe tamping down the man with years of drug use, womanizing, and an overinflated ego. And from the images and thoughts swimming in your mind that didn’t belong to you, your Ben by all accounts. Something that sadly Hughie and the rest would never understand or even be willing to try. But as Ben soundly kissed you, when he broke away to let you catch your breath and placed his forehead against yours, tenderly rubbing strands of your hair that had come loose between his fingertips, you found that part didn’t really bother you all that much.

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yuutasugu · 9 hours

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geto suguru x female reader

warnings: smut

except you enthrall me, never shall be free

every tiny star that shines through your window seems to lose its appeal when suguru looks at you through a pair of half-closed amethyst eyes.

even as his wet kisses trace a path from your ankles to your inner thighs, he's far from losing his composure. his eyes full of determination to take you there, his tongue licking your silky skin as if your pleasure is its only purpose.

suguru looks like a sin that has seeped into your blood, his jet-black bangs falling to his forehead, making him look more like a beast to your belle than a cult leader who has gained control of the masses beneath his priestly façade.

you would never know that anything can feel so good until his tongue urges you to buck your hips against his hungry mouth, and he would never know that the thighs around his head that squeeze the air out of his lungs can open the gates of heaven for him and him alone.

you were not meant to entertain him with your sweet little whining. you were not meant to be corrupted by him and taken under his wings. if not satoru, then you should have been the one to execute him.

you should have been the one who stopped him

however, you were too good for this world that you could send a monkey to heaven with the touch of your hand. perhaps that was the reason why he offered you those pomegranate seeds to keep you in his underworld forever.

after all, who needs any good in this cruel world when you are here to exorcise his curses? why save the world when your lover is by your side?

#jjk x reader #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #suguru smut #geto smut #geto x reader #suguru x reader

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winchestergirl2 · 7 months

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February Reading Recs

To show some love and appreciation to all the amazing writers here on tumblr, here are all the fantastic fics I've read this month. 💖

Many of these fics and blogs are 18+ only, and NSFW please heed the author's individual fic warnings and requests regarding no minors. I am not responsible for your media consumption.

2023 Reading Recs | 2024 Reading Recs

Walker

Cordell Walker

Quieting the Demons Inside @idreamofplaid

Authors Summary: Cordell opens up to the reader, and his vulnerability takes their relationship to the next level.

Privacy @idreamofplaid

Authors Summary: Cordell is a passionate man, but he’s a dad too. It doesn’t mean he has to choose between the two.

Texas Nights @stefanmikaleson1864

Dawsons Creek

CJ Braxton

Something Like This @thebiggerbear

Authors Summary: A Nor'easter hits Boston and luckily for you, you don't have anywhere you need to be except right here snuggled up with CJ.

My Bloody Valentine

Tom Hanniger

Lonely Dancers @mind-empty-just-fictional-people

Authors summary: when your boyfriend cheats on you, it leads you to tom hanniger

10 Inch Hero

Boaz Priestly

Code Red @zepskies

Authors Summary: When you call him for help, Priestly realizes that he finally has the relationship of his dreams.

High School Never Ends Part 1 | Part 2 | @illshakeyouallnightlong-dean

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Hollow @thoughtslikeaminefield

Authors Summary: @winchesterxfamilybusiness submitted this prompt to @cabin-fever-bang “Would anyone be willing to write something with Dean [or Jensen] x reader to the song Love on the Brain by Rihanna -xx”

Fire & Rain Masterlist @writercole

Authors Summary: When a fire destroys her place to live, Y/N and her daughter Lana are left with nowhere to go and no one to count on, except the kindness of a beautiful, green-eyed firefighter that saved their lives. Will the pair of them make it through the obstacles life has dealt them or will they crash and burn?

Just Another Day @1000roughdrafts

Authors Summary: Fluffy Dean x female!reader Valentine's Day post

Don't Forget It @hintsofhoney

Authors Summary: While working a case with Dean, he gets jealous of the way you interact with a suspect and decides to remind you who you belong to.

Sam Winchester

You're On Your Own Kid Part 1 @my-proof-is-you

Authors Summary: You’re used to being on your own. You’d been on your own as long as you could remember. Could Sam show you that it isn’t the only way to live?

Untitled Sam Winchester Fic @supernaturalfreewill

Big Sky

Beau Arlen

Febuwhump Day 10 @luci-in-trenchcoats

Febuwhump Day 14 @luci-in-trenchcoats

Febuwhump Day 21 @luci-in-trenchcoats

Whole Lotta Love @deanbrainrotwritings

Authors Summary: beau finds a way repays the reader after taking care of him when he’s injured, but also to apologise for worrying her. but most importantly, to prove he was okay.

The Way We Fall In Love @smellingofpoetry

Authors Summary: This is the story of how they fall in love.

The Boys

Soldier Boy

Febuwhump Day 12 @luci-in-trenchcoats

Side Effects of Soldier Boy @tom-whore-dleston

Authors Summary: Soldier Boy tries to keep you quiet during sex.

Smallville

Jason Teague

Febuwhump Day 7 @luci-in-trenchcoats

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daughterofcain-67 · 11 months

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𝕄𝕠𝕧𝕚𝕖 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕥𝕠 ℝ𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣

(Boaz Priestly x Female Reader)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: In honor of spooky season, The Beach City Grill is throwing a Horror movie night event by putting on the movie Scream! The employees are excited, and so are some of the regulars. Your friends, Piper, Jen and Tish invite you to come because she knows you're another regular at the grill. But the thing is, you hate scary movies, crime shows or anything dealing with blood. Which will be scarier? Actually watching this movie, or embarrassing yourself in front of a guy you like?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: reader has a phobia of blood, spoilers for the 1996 Scream movie. Fluffy Priestly. Costumes!

"Here, Y/N. Trucker's having us try handing out coupons for discounts." Tish said with a smile on her face and you grinned.

"Thanks, Tish! I'll be sure to use it again when I come back." You promised. You had been going to The Beach City Grill for the past couple of years, visiting as often as twice a week during your lunch break or on the weekends.

"Hey Y/N! Tish did you tell her about tomorrow night?" Piper asked as she came out of the back, you assumed it was for some kind of supplies.

"Something's happening tomorrow night?"

"Oh that's right! Y/N, you should totally swing by! We're having a movie night and since Halloween is coming up we're gonna watch Scream!" The red headed girl explained and you started to feel a little uneasy.

"A horror movie?" You said with a nervous chuckle.

Then you heard a door open up followed by an abrupt, "Alright everybody calm down! I've arrived!"

When you looked over you saw Priestly and today his hair was colored blue again. He had one of his usual humorously inappropriate shirts that tended to get you to chuckle. But today he wore a kilt which was the first time you've seen him in one but you weren't at all surprised by his attire.

"Well it's about time you showed up, Priestly." Jen teased from behind the computer before continuing, "Tish is trying to convince Y/N to come over tomorrow for movie night."

"Oh yeah? Y/N you should totally come over! I'm bringing the popcorn!" Priestly insisted.

Your heart fluttered at the idea of Priestly wanting you to go to this thing. You couldn't deny that you sort of had a thing for the cook. But your main concern wasn’t the fact that if the movie was scary.

The concern was this: would happen if you made a fool out of yourself because you were scared of blood?

"I'm not so sure... scary movies aren't exactly my thing." You admitted.

"It's not too scary, though! The Scream movies are more comedy rather than actually horror. They mostly mock other horror films even if they're doing the exact same things they're throwing other movies over the bus for." Piper commented as she stepped out from behind the counter to paint on the wall.

"Which they executed the irony in all of it pretty well." Trucker said with a chuckle.

"I remember watching that movie when it came out in the theaters." the owner of the grill continued as he started taking a look at some orders that came in.

"Honestly, I'm not into the scary movie thing either, Y/N, but it's really not that bad." Jen insisted. And she's more so the one you believe about this kind of thing. If Jen can handle it, who's to say you can't handle it either?

"Well... Then yeah, I guess I'll go." You finally agreed and you watched Priestly get the biggest grin on his face.

"Great! Don't forget to dress up in some kind of costume." He said as he went to the back to clock in and grab an apron.

"O-Okay?"

You watched him leave before you looked at the three girls who seemed to be intently watching you and Priestly. They all seemed to either have smirks or some kind of knowing look.

"What?" You asked and Tish chuckled.

"Oh nothing. Just the moment the cook comes up with the idea of you joining us you're all for it." She said and your cheeks started to warm up.

"Well no, it's more because Jen said it wasn't that bad of a movie."

"And you wouldn't be disappointed if Priestly suddenly decided he couldn't make it tomorrow night?" Piper asked and you shrugged a little.

"If he's there, great! If not, plans change all the time." You said, trying to be as convincing as possible.

"So it's like a dress up kind of thing? So what will you all be going as?" You tried to change the subject.

"I think I might go with some kind of cat costume." Tish said.

"Awe and here I thought you'd dress as some kind of cheer leader to mess with whatever guy finds their way here." Priestly said as he walked out and went to his station. Tish gave him a playful little punch since they were always picking on each other about different things anyway. But you hoped he didn't hear too much about what you were talking about earlier.

"As compared to you dressing up as... a normal guy?" Tish came back with a hand on her hip and an arched brow.

"I wouldn't say the Men in Black are normal. I mean what kind of normal guy would go willingly to monitor and micromanage aliens. I mean it sounds like a really good job and if I could find an application I would." Priestly replied.

"I think you'd be mistaken as an alien." Tish chuckled.

"What about you two? What will you go as?" You asked Jen and Piper.

"I don't know, I haven't really put much thought into what I'll dress up as. Dressing up isn't really my thing." Jen said.

"Well, what if you went as a little ladybug? That would be cute." Piper said, referencing the username she used to contact Fuzzy22.

"Well I guess that could work. Either that or maybe Pooh Bear." Jen said, thinking of a more modest sort of costume.

"I think I might go as Alice, from Alice in Wonderland." Piper commented.

"Which version? The animated one or...?" Priestly asked.

"The animated one. It's one of Disney's classics after all! And the dress was pretty cute too." Piper answered and looked at you before smiling warmly.

"And what about you? What are you thinking about dressing up as?"

"Me? Umm..." You trailed off as you tried to think of something you could be. If it was a movie night you wanted to be comfortable. "I might go to Walmart and find some kind of onesie to put on. Maybe Jack Skellington or something. I won't really have time to go home and change clothes after work tomorrow so I may just throw that on."

"Well hey, plus they're comfy! Once you get home you won't even have to change out of a complicated costume." Tish smiled.

"So is there like.. anything you guys want me to bring since I'll be coming over for the movie?" You asked.

"No, kiddo. We've got everything handled with the Popcorn and we'll have some little sandwiches left if people didn't have the chance to grab a bite before swinging by." Trucker promised.

"All you've gotta do is come on by with that smile of yours. Maybe bring some good karma along with you."

"No luck with Zo yet?" You asked and Tucker chuckled before shaking his head before you grinned, "I think providing dinner and just having this fun little movie night will help you and your karma on its own."

You looked down at your watch and your eyes widened when you realized you were running a little late and your lunch break was almost over.

"I've gotta run, guys. But I'll see you tomorrow."

You've pulled up into The Beach City Grill's driveway and you felt a little nervous. You ended up changing your mind about the onesie thing and you dressed up as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, you were both lucky and thankful that your costume from a few years ago fit you. But there was the matter of the movie you would be watching.

"You'll be okay. It's just a movie. All of it's just props and some kind of nineties special effects." You told yourself, trying to give yourself a little pep talk so you wouldn't psych yourself out.

You took in a deep breath and let it out before you got out of the car and went inside the building. You saw all the staff members there already and they were dressed in their costumes. Piper was the first one to see you.

"Don't you look adorable, Dorothy!" She smiled and you grinned, suddenly glad you changed your mind and put in a little more effort into the costume.

"Thanks, Alice." You replied and you looked around, realizing you were a bit early.

"Where is everyone?" You asked curiously.

"Well, we've still got a few minutes to finish setting up. If you'd like to help you're more than welcome to. I'm about to put up the screen for the projector." Jen said, you nodded and started helping her out.

As you two were hanging up the projector, Jen looked over at you, "I'm really glad you decided to come. I know a certain someone was a little worried you'd chicken out."

"Who? Tish?" Jen shook her head as she stepped up on her step ladder to hang up her side of the screen.

"Nope. Priestly." She replied and the name took you by surprise.

"Why would he be worried that I wouldn't show up?" You couldn't help but ask.

"Well I mean you said yourself that scary movies aren't your thing. Tish said he even asked Tucker if they should change the movie to something a little more.. family friendly like Nightmare Before Christmas or Beetlejuice or something."

That was a little shocking because you didn't think Priestly would suggest doing something like that. Piper sure. Tish? Maybe. But you thought Priestly would be all for this Scream thing.

"He really didn't have to do that. Besides, Scream would be the first horror film I've seen. Might as well give it a shot right?" You said.

"Wait you've never even seen scary films?" Tish asked as she joined the conversation. You shook your head.

"Well, I guess its a good thing we're still watching that then. That way you can say you've at least seen one." She insisted and you grinned as you finished hanging up your side of the projector screen.

You stepped off the ladder and fixed your apron and looked over at Tish, "Yeah I guess. I'm sure it'll be fun."

You heard the door open and when you looked over you saw Priestly carrying a box of popcorn. He had his hair colored green that day and he was wearing sunglasses, which was kind of confusing because you thought it would be harder for him to see at night. But he was wearing a suit like he's from the MIB.

"So you found an application after all?" You joked and smiled at him.

Priestly turned his head and took one look at you before he felt a lump in his throat. You looked really cute with your tea-length Dorothy dress and apron. You even had a pair of sparkly shoes on and your hair was in two low pigtails, braided halfway much like Judy Garland's character. You were adorable and his brain was short-circuiting big time.

In truth, Priestly knew he didn't have a chance with Tish because he saw the guys she went out with. And he noticed you coming into the shop more and more shortly after your first visit.

You two didn't have too many interactions with one another but on the limited occasions that you did get to talk, you had always been so sweet and didn't seem to care about his goofy shirts, the colors in his hair that changed daily, or even the artificial holes in his head.

You were always so sweet to him and he couldn't deny that a small part of him was growing interested in you. But he wasn't sure if he should try to show any of that interest. What if he was wrong? Of course this was such a judgmental and superficial world, there was always a possibility of him being wrong.

"Priestly? You okay?" Your voice snapped him from his thoughts and he chuckled before taking off his sunglasses.

"Better than okay. Ready to get the party started!" He exclaimed, resuming as if everything is normal.

“Priestly! It’s about time you showed up..” Trucker laughed.

“I had to grab the popcorn! It can’t be a movie night without it after all!”

“Great! And Y/N can help you make it.” Piper said and from the corner of his eye he saw the girl dressed as Alice nudge you into his direction. The tips of his ears started to turn a little pink.

“Sure. I could use the help back there.” He insisted and he grinned at you, “Besides, it could be fun showing you the back of this place.”

He watched the way you grinned almost sheepishly and he smiled to himself before he started leading you to the back. He grabbed some ziplock bags so it would be easy to distribute to people when they got there. Then, he started up the grill, melted some butter before he opened the jar of popcorn kernels.

“You know how to pop popcorn without the maker?” He heard you ask and he smirked.

“Sweetheart, there’s more than one way to do almost anything.” He replied.

Besides, it’s not that hard. We’ve tried having a movie night before and we did have a popcorn machine but it broke. Jen looked up other ways to make popcorn online. Obviously you can pop popcorn in a normal skillet as long as you’ve got a lid over it. With some tweaking, I figured the grill was just a big skillet pan and I found this which would serve as a good enough ‘lid’ or whatever. Then voila! We had popcorn for that movie night.”

“Creative problem solving. You guys never cease to amaze me you know that?”

“It’s more so the girls that got the creative problem solving thing under their belts. I just execute the ideas.”

While the grill was warming up, Priestly took off his suit jacket before he rolled up the sleeves of the white shirt he wore up to his elbows. He placed the jacket over the counter next to Jen’s computer before he started getting to work.

As Priestly rolled up his sleeves, you could feel your cheeks burning up and you glanced away before you focused on opening the box of Ziplock bags. Once you started opening some of them you started looking for something to use to serve the popcorn into the bags. Once you found one, you could already hear the popping of the popcorn kernels.

“Can I ask you something?’” You could hear the cook ask.

“Yeah. Shoot.”

“How come you aren’t too fond of horror movies?”

You weren’t sure how you should respond. What if he thought your fear of blood was stupid? He’d probably laugh at you like you were some child afraid of the dark.

“They just aren’t my thing. But I didn’t have anything else to do tonight and Jen, Trish and Piper made it sound like tonight would be really fun. So why waste a night doing nothing?” You asked. It was mostly true, but of course you didn’t want to reveal everything.

You could tell he was listening while he was busy over the grill but you couldn't help the skeptical look on his face as if he didn't believe you. At this, you bit your lip and looked away. When the popcorn is done, he served it in a bowl and you started serving the popcorn into the Ziplock bags.

After you've filled about a dozen and a half bags you finally spoke again.

"I'm not a fan of horror films because... I have this thing when I see-"

"Hey guys! Guests are arriving!" You could hear Tish announce and you cleared your throat a little, somewhat thankful that you didn't get to finish your train of thought.

"I'm gonna go set these out for everyone." You spoke quickly and took the bags before going out to the front where the others were.

Once everyone was settled in for the movie with their popcorn and any other snacks and drinks, you sat down in one of the booths near the back where the doors were. Priestly, Tish, Piper and Jen were a couple of rows in front of you in some of the chairs they set out. A lot of regulars were in their little costumes and you hoped that this would be a fun night for everyone that came.

The movie started off alright for you. You could almost predict the moments when you had to close your eyes or look away from the screen in Drew Barrymore's scene.

You had to admit that the rest of the movie had a pretty good plot and you liked it so far. Stu was pretty funny and you like the way Matthew Lillard plays his character. Skeet Ulrich played Billy really well too and you had to admit, he was pretty cute. But Neve Campbell did great in her role as Sidney too, and you were pretty glad that she was evidently a reoccurring main actress according to Tish. Not that you were sure you'd watch the other movies.

Then the scene at Stu's house came on. Everything went fine because it was just the party scene right now. Then the killings started. The Tatum scene was alright you supposed because you didn't see any blood. But the moment Ghostface was in the room with Billy and Sidney and you watched Billy get stabbed and he was covered with blood while Ghostface cleaned off his knife, you knew you were about to hurl.

You got up and rushed outside as quietly as you could because you didn't want to disrupt anyone during the climax of the film.

You turned around the corner where the trash was normally taken out. You found some bushes and the next thing you knew you were hunched over emptying out your lunch along with the popcorn you were snacking on a few minutes ago.

You were too distracted to hear the footsteps behind you, but you felt a large hand on your back and the other hand was pulling your pigtails back so they weren't in your way. Somehow you knew it must've been Priestly behind you and it was relieving that it wasn't a stranger, but embarrassing to no end that he was seeing you like this.

After a few moments when you were sure you were in the clear, you covered your mouth so Priestly wouldn't have to smell your breath.

"Sorry you had to see that."

He looked at you with a little apologetic grin, "No worries. I'm more worried about how your feeling." He continued as he offered you a stick of gum.

You thanked him for the gum and popped it into your mouth, trying to ignore how badly your throat stung after a few seconds ago, "I'm better now that it's over with. Sucks that it was a waste of good popcorn."

Priestly chuckled a little and moved a strand of hair away from your face, "There's always another time for popcorn. Maybe the next movie night won't be so bad."

"It wasn't that the movie was scary. The plot was pretty good. It was just the blood." You admitted and tried not to gag remembering the stabbing scene.

"I think the movie's almost over anyways. Why don't I go back inside and get you like a Sprite or something and I can drive you home? I don't want you driving incase you get sick again." He insisted and you didn't exactly have the energy to fight him on anything right now. You hated that he missed the rest of the movie because of you though.

"Are you sure? I really think I'll be okay to head home." You said and he shook his head.

"Nope, I'll take you home. No worries. Besides, I already watched the movie anyways and I know the ending." He shrugged and he helped you up off the ground.

As the two of you were on your way back you could see that there were some people leaving and you assumed that the movie was over. When the two of you walked inside you saw the credits rolling and you rubbed the back of your neck. You didn't realize how long you had been out in the alley.

Priestly went behind the counter and grabbed a cup while the girls went over to you.

"Hey, you alright? What happened?" Piper asked.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Just needed some fresh air. I was feeling a little queasy near the end of the movie." You admitted.

"Do you want any crackers or anything? I think we may have some in the back or something." Jen said, trying to be helpful which was sweet of her but you shook your head.

"No thanks, I've got some back at home." You said and Priestly came back with the Sprite and handed it to you.

"Alright, Dorothy. Lets get you back home." Priestly said and placed a hand on your shoulder.

You were trying so hard not to combust really because this has been the most interaction you've every had with Priestly. You hated what circumstances that triggered it though. Of all things, it was because of a reaction to blood. Great.

"Well I guess I'll see you guys later?" You asked and the girls nodded yet not quite in sync.

"Yeah we'd better see you soon! You know we're still open on Saturdays so come on and swing by." You heard Tish say with a bright smile.

Once you pulled up to the house you looked over at Priestly, "Thank you for helping me out tonight. You really didn't have to."

"You don't have to keep thanking me, I'm happy to help you out." He promised.

"Well still, it was a nice gesture. I owe you one." You leaned up and kissed his cheek.

Priestly could feel a heat rising to his neck and he cleared his throat a little. But now that you said you owed him one, he started getting an idea or two.

"Actually, there's one way you can thank me if you insist on continuing to say it." Priestly said and bit his lip and you could tell he was a little nervous.

"Um.. okay? What do you have in mind?" You asked him.

"Well, why don't we have a movie do-over? Just you and me and we'll watch a movie. Whatever you want it to be. I'll bring some snacks and some drinks."

"Is this your way of asking me on a date?" You asked with a teasing grin, thinking it was a little bit of a joke. After all, you knew you were decent looking but you were nothing like Tish.

"Well... yeah, actually. If you're up t something like that."

You were a little taken back by his response, but you could tell that he was being serious and you smiled at him. "You know what? I'd really like that."

You watched the way his green eyes lit up with pure excitement.

"Great! Then it's a date." He smiled.

"Well here's the question, we no there can't be blood in the movie. But what are some things to avoid with you? Or what do you like?" You asked him.

"Oh the more controversial the movie, the better it is for me." He chuckled.

"Would I expect anything less?" You snickered but then you go an idea. "How about we do that tonight? It's still kind of early. Plus I can give you a ride to work tomorrow."

"Really?" Priestly asked but then he thought about it and he nodded. "That sounds perfect."

And with that, the two of you got out of the car and made your way into your house.

You got changed into some pajamas, brushed your teeth and found a pair of sweatpants that would fit Priestly so he'd be comfortable. Both of you spent the rest of the night watching different movies and both of you fell asleep on the couch in each other's arms.

Over all, it turned out to be a great night. One with a much better ending than you had expected and you couldn't wait to see where this little adventure with Priestly would take you.

Thank you guys for reading and I hope all of you enjoyed! What movies do you think the reader and Priestly ended up watching instead! I'd love to see which movies you think he'd enjoy! Wishing you all the best!💖💕

Tag List:

@roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch @posiemax @deanwinchestersgirl87 @impala67rollingthroughtown

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles imagine #boaz x reader #boaz priestly #ten inch hero #priestly x reader #jensen ten inch hero #jensen ackles ten inch hero #jensen ackles x reader

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kingpreciouswrld · 2 years

Note

Miranda priestly and female reader, reader is Miranda's assistant who she's secretly in love with. She suffers from fainting spells and collapses in Miranda's arms unexpectedly

ask and ye shall recieve, thanks for requesting!

Falling For You

Pairing: Miranda Priestly x Reader

Word Count: 950

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I hope you like it :)

Through your years in college, you never thought that you’d end up in New York, working in fashion of all things. Now, you weren’t a fashion person and you certainly didn’t know who ran the fashion world. However, the job you have now thrusted you into the spotlight albeit it was a small spotlight.

For the past 2 years you've worked for a certain Dragon. You weren't one for reptiles but this Dragon captured your heart. It wasn't love at first sight, but as you continued to work for her, she opened up to you (as much as a fashion celebrity did) and you got to see a glimpse of what it was like behind the Dragon persona.

You got to see her.

Miranda.

Miranda Priestly was different from Miranda, who was different from the Dragon. The Dragon recently got out of a horrible divorce. Miranda Priestly fought back against Irv Ravitz and his board members. Miranda was the one who comforted her bobbseys behind the scenes, the one who would do anything to make her daughters happy. That was who you fell in love with.

That was also your boss.

You couldn't describe how you felt, although you knew it was hero worship. You loved seeing the real Miranda. It was in the small up turn of her lips whenever you gave her a snarky remark about a horrible runthrough, it was in the small nod of satisfaction after she looked you over, its Miranda letting you share an elevator with her. It was just in the little things and your heart grasped into any and all moments you could.

Now being a part of the fashion world meant you were also subjected to the expectations of said world. You weren't a model, far from it, but being Miranda's assistant meant that if you looked good, Miranda looked good and so you started a diet. Emily had told you of her cheese cube diet but you couldn't stomach cheese only. So you just did your own thing.

You dieted and worked out on the little free time you had. Dieting and skipping meals weren't a great combination with working out as you always felt faint afterwards but you always pushed through. You wanted Miranda to be proud of you, to show you off as you walked by her side, to look good for others and maybe start feeling good about yourself. You were willing to do anything to make yourself look good.

You had just come back to the offices, bags of designer clothes and jewelry aligned on your arms, catching your breath seemed impossible at the moment.

"There you are, where have you been?! Miranda will be here any minute and where's her coffee?" Emily had found you huffing and puffing at the front desk of the offices.

You answered her between breaths,"Nice to..see you too..didn't get..her coffee..bite me.."

Emily rolled her eyes and huffed. She helped unload all of your bags and ran into Miranda's inner sanctum to drop them off. There was a run-through due when she got back and everyone needed to be ready and on Miranda time.

The red head grabbed her keys and wallet, "I'll go get the coffee, suck on an ice cube or something while I'm gone." You nodded just having realized you haven't drank water at all that day.

Walking into the small kitchen area, you opened up the freezer with no ice in sight. No one refilled the ice trays so you guessed it was just water for you then.

Your ears started to ring and you felt faint. You thought you could fill up your water bottle in time. You thought you could hold on until Miranda was in the run-through but you could slowly feel your legs give out from underneath you and everything went black.

What you didn't notice was that Miranda had gotten back to the office earlier than the set time. The white haired woman watched you walk around the kitchen area, loving how domestic it made you look.

She was alert when she saw your sluggish movements and before she knew it, she rushed over to where you were. Before you could hit the ground, soft yet firm arms were wrapped around your torso. You were out cold, your dead weight against the fashion queen.

Miranda laid you gently on the ground, following suit as well, moving your head onto her lap. She checked your pulse, it was faint but still there.

She knew about your weight loss journey and she made sure to make (somewhat backhanded) compliments about your figure. She loved you just the way you were and she didn't want you to change a thing. Hopefully her words showed you what she meant, she wasn't the best at showing affection anyway.

Miranda caressed your cheek, rubbing her thumb against your skin which gently stirred you awake, "Mm…M-Miranda?"

"Welcome back to the world of the living Ms.L/n."

Once you realized where you were, you tried sitting up but a gentle hand kept you from achieving that, "You're in no place to get up. I want you to sit up–slowly–in a few minutes. For now, tell me what's been happening while I was gone."

So for the next few minutes, you laid on the ground with Miranda and recalled everything that happened while she was away.

"Now, when you get up, I want you to go home and rest for the rest of the day. No working. I will call you tonight to check in on you. Do I make myself clear?" She looked down on you with pure adoration in her eyes.

"Yes Miranda."

#miranda priestly x reader #miranda priestly #the devil wears prada #meryl streep

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deanwinchesterswitch · 9 months

Text

December 2023 Monthly Fic Recs

Well, December went out quietly for me which I was perfectly fine with. Glad 2023 is done.

Several different fandoms on this list. Great stories - and not all of them are Christmas fics. :)

Enjoy!

Many of these blogs and fics are NSFW-18+. Please honor any requests from a blog regarding no minors. I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume; heed the warnings for each fic.

~MCU~

Cookies and Hints ~ @navybrat817. Author's Summary: Bucky tries to get hints about his gifts as you bake together.

No Title ~ @navybrat817. Author's Summary: None (Drabble; Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Touched ~ @wayward-and-worn. Author's Summary: The days of Bucky “James” Buchanan Barnes’ recovery in Wakanda. He’s been de-programmed and given his Vibranium arm. In his days of recovery and therapy he met someone that has piqued his interest in a way that reminds him of when he wasn’t the Winter Soldier. He has set his sights on her and finally has a chance to be near. As near as he can get.

~Miscellaneous~

Midnight ~ @kittenofdoomage. Author's Summary: New Year’s Eve brings a surprise at the end of a crappy year. (female!reader (Y/N) x unnamed male)

~RPF~

Smokin' In The Green Room ~ @impala-dreamer. Author's Summary: Settle in for a pre-show party as you relax with Jensen and Rob in the Green Room before a concert.

~Supernatural~

Christmas by Dashboard Light ~ @impala-dreamer. Author's Summary: Stranded by the side of the road, Dean and Y/N still find a way to enjoy Christmas Eve

Couldn't Resist ~ @wayward-dreamer. Author's Summary: Y/N can’t resist Dean when he’s wearing a suit.

“(Don’t) Hurry Down The Chimney Tonight” ~ @talltalesandbedtimestories. Author's Summary: Dean saved Reader from the supernatural on Christmas Eve years ago. Every Christmas since, she has always found a way to show her unending appreciation.

Imagine…Decorating The Bunker ~ @luci-in-trenchcoats. Author's Summary: None (Drabble; Dean x Reader)

Imagine getting caught in the rain with Dean... ~ @supernaturalfreewill. Author's Summary: None (Drabble)

Just Thought You Should Know ~ @smellingofpoetry. Author's Summary: It was just one of those drunk calls until it wasn’t anymore.

No Title ~ @supernaturalfreewill. Author's Summary: None (Drabble; Dean Winchester x Reader)

Recreational Recreation ~ @wayward-and-worn. Author's Summary: Dean fondly remembers the first time they were “together.” Sort of. Rather than simply reminiscing, he proposes fully revisiting that moment. Who is she to argue?

We Don't Really Do Christmas ~ @octoberclidan. Author's Summary: None (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Wicked Desire ~ @impala-dreamer. Author's Summary: There’s never any promise in a one-night stand, never any certainty when you catch a stranger’s eye. It’s dangerous, but there was never any question when Dean asked you to join him for a drink…

~Ten Inch Hero~

Code Red ~ @zepskies. Author's Summary: When you call him for help, Priestly realizes that he finally has the relationship of his dreams.

~The Walking Dead~

Queen ~ @wayward-and-worn. Author's Summary: She disobeyed him. And Negan makes a point to put her in her place.

~On Patreon~

Rebekah Jordan (Impala-Dreamer)

Temptation & Consequences ~ Author’s Summary: Jensen has been busy all weekend at the convention, leaving little time for fun with his girl. Luckily, Y/N knows how to get his attention... and more...

thinkinghardhardlythinking

Close to Home-Parts 2 and 3 ~ Author’s Summary: Y/N and Dean are neighbours, and friends. The thing is Dean is a ladies’ man and she has always known it, if he wasn’t, maybe he’d be the ideal guy…but his eye for the ladies, how well they work as friends, as well as the fact that he’d never even think of her that way, all means that they are meant to be just neighbours and friends. Doesn’t it?

#monthly fic recs #fabulous writers #dw's witch reads #december 2023 #010124

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kriz-fics · 2 years

Text

The Sword’s Legacy

Series Summary: As the heir of your father's lands, you have grown up knowing that one day you must wed to your House's advantage, and there's no better catch than the younger son of the Magister himself. Meanwhile tensions within the king's court are set to come to a head at any moment - it just needs that spark to send everything ablaze. Now in a court more dangerous than the one you entered, you find distraction and joy in the company of the beautiful boy with the beautiful eyes. You can only hope to weather the storm you can sense brewing in the horizon.

Masterlist

Chapter Nine: Stakes and Matters

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Female Reader

Genre: Royalty AU, Historical Fantasy AU, Romance, Politics, Warfare, Eventual Smut (future chapters)

Length: 11.5K

CW: Slightly graphic description of injuries / brief mentions of masturbation (F, non-explicit), underage sexual exploits (non-explicit) / prostitution

“Your Majesty, Father Robert of Feyhill,” the herald (of the courtly sort and not the priestly) announces from the entrance to the king’s presence chamber, banging his staff hard on the gray marble floor.

The loud, steady stream of conversation from the gathered courtiers quiets to low murmurs as the priest strides forward, straight-backed, head held high, and eyes fixed resolutely forward on his king. Outside, a curtain of rain blankets the city. The soft pattering of raindrops against the glass of the tall, mullioned windows of the circular chamber blends with the court’s murmurs, and for the nonce, they are as one.

His Majesty Rod Reiss, the First of His Name, is sitting upon a throne at the front of the hall, this one less grand than the one he keeps in the throne room. Around him stands his Conclave, still as statues, looking at the approaching lawyer with varying degrees of interest. The whole scene makes for an impressive tableau, Jean thinks, watching closely from his place amongst the audience.

To complete the picture, on the wall behind this stately lot hangs the visage of the vanished glory and pride of the Eldian lineage. Berthold the Great’s Founder glares down at those assembled within the chamber, taking pride of place at the center of the massive tapestry; its purple eyes are immense, yawning and flaring from atop its monstrously skeletal face. To its right stands the Warhammer, wielded by Berthold’s queen, Malenia Tybur, the Hammer of Eldia. While not as outwardly grotesque as her king’s mount, there is something still uncannily eerie about the deathly white behemoth clutching its equally proportioned weapon from whence it takes its name. The way its pale flesh parts in striped bars around its eyes and mouth to show ruddier skin beneath lends much in the way of its eeriness. The Beast, last of the three Eldian Titans, completes the tapestry from its place at the Founder’s left. This one had belonged to the king’s cousin, Karl Fritz the Golden, and his mount had taken the form of something horrifically leonine; for this particular Titan was said to have the ability to change its beastly shape depending upon who wielded it at the time.

Jean has always thought the tapestry the blood royal’s way to inspire humility and awe within those who will pay them court. It is a reminder of the strengths of the Royal House of Reiss, their power, their might, their origins, without which they could never have united the whole realm. And oftentimes, it succeeds in its quest to humble and awe; if there is any image that can lower men’s gaze, it will be this one. Jean himself has never truly liked the way the Founder’s eyes seem to follow him everywhere he goes inside the room and usually does his best to avoid glancing at the bolt of cloth for too long.

And yet, a bolt of cloth is not the real thing, however much it aspires to intimidate. The sentiment it invokes will have been a thousand times more potent if the subjects it depicts are still actually alive and extant in these present times.

The three-hundred-year threat of the Titans to the realm ended a century ago when the Eldian Houses turned against one another in one of their frequent bids for power. This one would be the one to cost them all, as they learned to their grievous sorrow.

The War of the Ancients saw all three Titan wielders perish without passing on their most prized legacies, thus making Lovaya the Titansbane in truth and allowing a certain ancient prophecy to come to pass. With humanity having lost their numen due to the Sundering, any hopes of recreating the potion which birthed the Eldians’ chiefest font of power had been lost.

There were attempts by the next few Reiss kings to restore their former glory, yet all had ended in death and tragedy. Ulrich V - the Enlightened to some, the Guilty to others, the Gormless to those of an academic bent - put an end to further attempts by burning all books, tomes, scrolls, any source of information there was about the Titans as part of his ‘penance’ for the sins committed by his House using ‘those monsters begotten from the deepest level of hell itself.’

The monsters from hell do not seem to have much of an effect on the old lawyer, though, Jean notes, looking on with the rest of the court as Father Robert goes to one knee before his king. Once more, Jean is struck by the resilience of this holy man. The northman in him cannot help but swell with pride, though they belong to opposing factions; they are a tough lot, whatever else the rest of the realm thought about them.

Silence falls upon the courtiers as all and sundry hold their breath, waiting and watching. Outside, the rain continues to pour. The king looks exceptionally weary today, it seems to Jean. But then, he seems to be much wearier these days, understandably so. Anyone in his place will feel likewise, and His Majesty is hardly a young man. Beside Jean, Lord Richard Kirschtein stands to attention and leans forward a little, expression rapt.

The king stares at the priest a while longer, regal mask in place, before smiling. “Father Robert.”

“Your Majesty,” the lawyer answers, bowing his head deferentially.

“I bid you welcome to my court. We are most glad to have you here, Father, though it grieves me that we should meet under such unpleasant circumstances. However, having read your full and honest account of the sentiments of our northern subjects, I am most persuaded to give you fair hearing.” The king gestures to his left, where the Lord Commander of the Royal Guard is standing beside the throne. “You have much to thank our Lord Commander for as well. He has spoken most highly of you.”

Sir Erwin Smith acknowledges the priest with a slight incline of the head, which Robert returns civilly. Jean feels a chill run through him at the sight of the very empty right arm of his master’s armor. It has been a little over a month since the Lord Commander lost the limb, and yet Jean is still finding it difficult to reconcile himself with that image, exposed though he was to it for all that time. He will not soon forget all that pus and the dark, rotting flesh of his master’s arm, and the smell… His gorge rises at the memory of the overwhelming stench of corruption that clung to the Lord Commander before the herbman took his limb off.

Jean quickly averts his gaze from Sir Erwin, choosing to stare instead at the kneeling priest, who is by now being addressed by the rest of the gathered Conclave.

Some part of him, small yet enduring, still grudges Eren for the Lord Commander’s loss. But the better part of him has let it go, in a way. The weeks after the northmen’s assault had been most enlightening, especially where it concerned his opinions on Eren. Seeing the other boy grow more and more distraught every day Sir Erwin’s wounds worsened opened Jean’s eyes to the fact that Eren Jaeger is not someone to be envied after all.

The boy in question is on the other side of the chamber, lowering his head slightly to whisper something to his betrothed, who has joined him and his older brother for the day’s audience in the absence of her own kin. A fortnight has passed since that day with the barrels, the day that saw a shift in Jean’s and Eren’s relations with each other. While barbs still fly between them as of late, these lack the edge of their preceding abuses. Jean does not know what to make of that, yet something in him is glad of the change; he never realized just how exhausting it is to carry so much bile for one person all these years until his load had lightened.

The king stands from his throne, drawing Jean’s attention once more. His Majesty strides toward the kneeling priest, stretching out his right hand, which Father Robert takes, placing a reverential kiss upon the large amethyst ring circling the third royal digit. “Come, we have much to discuss,” Rod Reiss says, lifting the older man up and gesturing to the entrance of the Conclave Hall toward the left side of the chamber. “My lords,” he addresses his foremost advisors, and the men of the Conclave file after them, led as always by the Magister.

The court erupts into conversation the very moment the Conclave doors swing shut behind the Quaestor, and Lord Richard Kirschtein releases a breath, drawing Jean aside toward one of the windows. “Well, the day has come. I don’t need to remind you of the importance of discretion for this undertaking, do I?”

“No, Father, I’ll be discreet.”

“Good lad. Well, the man is as interesting as you made him out to be, I grant you. I must say, I like him already. A true northman, through and through. But I’ll like him regardless, if only because the sight of him seems to rankle that Braun creature.”

It certainly has. A glance at the aforementioned man across the hall shows Jean the dark look on his face as he silently converses with his liege, the Lord David Fritz, whose expression mirrors his vassal’s quite impressively. They have a deal to rage against, that is true enough; any victories the lawyer will have is death to their ambitions of further territorial expansion.

Yet the Lord Fritz is not a foe to be taken lightly. As the richest man in the realm, the custodian of the most active gold mines in Lovaya as well as one of the kingdom’s most thriving ports, he can lend his weight to any designs against the North. Being close kin to the king is no small matter either. With him and Tybur in the field, things look to be rather grim indeed.

And so that night sees Jean stealing along one of the smaller castle gardens adjoining the guest wing, which lodges other nations’ ambassadors in addition to the court’s callers. The rain has finally stopped falling, much to his relief. This endeavor is hard enough as it is without the weather further complicating things for him.

The sound of footsteps echoing down the nearby corridor instantly gives him pause, and he retreats further into the shadows, pressing himself against the wall of the nearby keep and tugging the hood of his black cloak further down his face. The smell of wet earth assails him, rich and pleasant. There is a lingering chill in the air, and he huddles deeper into his cloak, drawing it tighter around himself.

For the second time that night, he curses the lack of convenient secret passages to this part of the castle as he impatiently watches a servant amble down the hallway, which opens up to the gardens. The passage he used took him only as far as these grounds, and so he must needs skulk like a thief through the greenery, all discreet-like. He supposes there are other more convenient passages that lead directly to the wing itself (and possibly a couple of its rooms), but having not been educated in all of Midford’s secrets, he has to make do.

He hurries forward the instant the servant vanishes further inside the palace, rushing past the pools of orange light coming from the surrounding lampposts and creeping into the relative darkness of the guest wing. The tension in his body eases somewhat now that he is safe within the hall, and he proceeds toward his destination, alert yet calmer than he was before.

This sneaking around and prowling is little to his taste yet he understands the need for it. It will not do for busybodies to see any of his House liaising with their northern guest. They can’t risk being implicated if the Zhelevic rise again; they will be accused, like as not, of fomenting unrest and providing further succor to the outlaw cause, as the Proctor feared. As it is, it was all Lord Pixis could do to prevent similar uprisings in his neck of the woods. Jean and his lord father strongly suspect the Lord Skaryn’s hold on the leash he keeps around his folk’s necks isn’t as tight as it can be, no matter his very convincing display of rage against the Consul once he was accused of such.

A large part of Jean does not want to further the blood feud any more than it already has, yet filial piety guides his steps toward the lawyer’s rooms. Assuring the priest of their clandestine support shouldn’t lead to outright bloodshed between Braun and Kirschtein, should it? It is not as if they have aims to fund and arm the Zhelevic or their own folk…

The sixth door to the right of the corridor. He quickly locates the room and continues down the dimly lit hall. Charming words and a couple of copper caps bought him that useful bit of information from some chambermaid. It is an astounding thing, this business of information the servants have entered into. And highly lucrative. Trivial or significant, very little escapes the lowborn hirelings and they have learned to use that to their advantage. Jean has to admire the ways with which they would swell their meager coffers. He wonders, not for the first time, who is in the employ of who and silently shudders to himself.

He reaches the right door at last and knocks softly. “Holy Father,” he says, the moment the door swings open.

The priest looks up at him in surprise, which is exacerbated as he lowers his hood. “Young Master Kirschtein! I-I did not expect to be graced with your company tonight. Please, come in, if you will.”

“My thanks, Father.” The quarters the steward has housed the lawyer in are comfortable enough. A great canopied bed is standing to the left of the room, its posts draped with pale velvet hangings. A lavish Abhanese carpet covers the floor, illuminated by a stone fireplace and its merrily crackling flames; otherwise, the place is dark and murky. The only other source of light comes from the lamp hanging from a sconce on the wall. The light from this one washes over a desk placed in front of the only window in the room, its dark curtains drawn closed. On the tabletop, a pewter jug and goblet sit beside a wooden likeness of the Father Above in his bull-headed form. “I’m sorry if I disturbed your prayers.”

“Oh, no, it is no trouble, my lord. Lord Amos is good and just, he will not begrudge you my attention. And,” the priest closes the door softly behind him, “a late-night visit is a most curious thing indeed.” Father Robert steps closer to him. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I come at the behest of my father, Lord Richard, who wishes you and your- our cause well,” Jean answers, slipping back into his own northern brogue and feeling his sense of kinship with the holy man deepen. It is wearisome work to keep up that stuffy, high-hat court accent all the time, he finds. “I must also apologize for the lateness of the hour, and the secrecy. People talk, and some have the most inconvenient habit of remembering things they shouldn’t.”

“Aye, that they do.” The priest walks past Jean toward the desk. “Might I offer you a drink?”

“Thank you, but no.” As Father Robert pours himself a goblet, Jean ventures, “May I ask how it went with the king and Conclave?”

The lawyer chuckles lightly at that. “It went well enough, lad, considering the circumstances. Of course, there will always be opposition but I think, with the right words, there is hope of swaying the king yet. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for some of his council.” A dour look descends upon the priest’s face. “Tybur’s influence must be diminished, there is no question of that now, not when he drowns out the voices of other, better men.”

“I think you’ll find that a hard ask, Father. Tybur claims kinship with the royal line and he’s Eldian besides, that lot tends to hold each other in higher esteem.”

“It seems to me that a good king must put his kingdom before his kin or he is no true king at all, not one I will gladly follow, at any rate.” Father Robert sets his half-emptied goblet down upon the desk once more.

Jean hums his assent and reaches inside the pocket of his pants. “Please, accept this, Father. A token of our support, what little of it we can give you openly, in any case. You have friends at court still, remember that.” The sunstone gleams upon the priest’s palm like a smoldering ember, the light of the lamp reflecting off its fiery surface. “May the gods, both old and new, bless and keep you, Father. Our minds and prayers are with you. If the gods are good, we can resolve all of this peacefully.” For all of our sakes.

The Woodisle is a blue-gray serpent undulating through the stone forest that is Belris, long and winding. The wind that blows across it is cool, carrying the many scents of the city. It smells of Mercy’s Cap and rain trees and greenery from the royal gardens above. It smells of wet stone and wet earth and water. Underneath that is smoke and sweat and something savory, staler smells yet familiar for all that.

You breathe it all in, invigorated, yet part of you cannot help but think that all of that pales in comparison to the scents of home. Nothing is as sweet as the salty, sharp, crisp air of the sea.

“-consummated the marriage before the marriage!”

The cakes you brought with you come close, though, you think, nibbling on your forkful of light, airy confection. The ganso - the white, flaky meat of some exotic Mi Anese fruit - is an interesting addition; it gives the cake a delightful texture and a distinct toasted flavor from the browning the baker subjected the fruit to. You take a sip of the light, golden vintage in your cup, studiously ignoring the hot, burning sensation Historia’s eyes impart on the side of your skull at the turn of your conversation. I should not have told her about Eren.

It is not as if the both of you have plans of consummating your own betrothal.

Suddenly, hands are slapping hard at your back as you hack and cough, spilling wine all over your skirts and the blanket beneath you. You bat the hands away, throat sore and eyes watering. “I-I’m fine.”

“Are you all right?” Isabelle Seitz and Hannah Kefka gaze at you, worry clear upon their faces.

“I’m fine,” you croak, hand on your chest and wheezing out one last cough as Historia rubs your back soothingly. “Wine went down the wrong way, is all.” You grimace at the wet spots of it on your skirts, thankful that the lot of you had chosen the gold and not the red. You can just imagine the mortifying ordeal of having to walk back through the castle with a suspicious red stain on your white underskirt (your overskirt is black, at least).

Isabelle looks at you doubtfully, before continuing her tale. “And so, as I was saying, the Lady Veronika and-”

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Historia whispers to you as an aside. At your affirmation, the princess smirks. “Is our little chat hitting a little too close to the mark, sweeting?”

“Oh, hush.” You look away, feeling heat creep up your neck. Three weeks ago saw a certain game of qaxan end in a most interesting way, and you have thought of little else since. Eren gave you little cause to think he meant all the things he said then, afterward. In all important respects, it had simply been his attempt at turning the tides to his favor, much like you yourself had done to him earlier. And yet… Warmth prickles up your cheeks. Is it possible to affect that much heat in one’s gaze if he does not truly mean it? Inwardly, you shake your head, annoyed. As far as you are concerned, you have never teased him that badly. Since when did he get a silver tongue?

And if he does mean it… You stuff the rest of your cake into your mouth, downing it all in two bites. That will mean coming to terms with the fact that he wants to-

“Oh, hush, I’m more than certain the thought has crossed his mind more than once,” Historia whispers, voice devious. “As it has crossed yours, I’m sure.”

“Hannah, you’re newly wedded and bedded,” you abruptly address the girl in question. “Was it worth it, waiting for the wedding night? Lady Veronika certainly doesn’t seem to think so.”

The redheaded girl blushes to the roots of her hair, pressing her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, what a question! But,” she glances sneakily at the two Royal Guardsmen standing some feet away from the apple tree you are picnicking under, silent sentinels flanking both sides of the stone stairway that leads back up to the royal gardens, “between you and me-”

You smile as Isabelle and Historia turn to the other girl with exclamations of interest. That got her out of my hair, thank the gods. You hum and react to Hannah’s tale where necessary, but only half your mind is truly paying attention.

It will be a lie to say you do not think about the prospect of an… earlier bedding, true enough. You are no stranger to lust; your flowering saw to that. It has been years since last you’ve known the touch of man, and Roman had not even been a man grown. His clumsy little boy’s fumblings seem feeble now compared to your own touch.

As it is, you do not find much occasion to give yourself pleasure of late. Guilt became a constant bedmaid once you and Eren were matched; the longer you had been betrothed, the less comfortable you had been thinking of other men to bring you to peak. And the thought of pleasuring yourself to Eren seemed discomfiting at the time. Yet now…

You fidget a little in your seat, absently pressing your legs closer together. You cannot remember ever reaching such heights of pleasure as you did that night you first touched yourself to him, the day of that momentous game. You had only to recall those long, slender fingers of his, the green fire of his eyes, and his voice… his voice most of all, and you were arching on your bed, moaning loudly in the confines of your chambers as you clenched hard around your fingers, wishing they were his. Afterward, you lay staring blankly at your ceiling, naked, sated, and marveling at how long it had been since last you'd climaxed.

Your years as a courtier enabled you to face your betrothed the next day without stumbling, adding to the unspoken consensus between the two of you that acknowledging certain avowals made from the previous day’s game was a subject best discussed for another time. When you are both better primed to face it. One thing is for certain, though; that game has irrevocably changed how you see him now, and you do not know what to make of that.

Nor do you know what to make of the other, decidedly less lustful feelings that day brought on. The little girl inside you, who has grown quiet of late, giggles like a milkmaid in springtime.

Once you fall…

“Flo, get back here!”

You turn and receive an armful of particolored fur.

“Flo!” The Princess Florian runs up to the picnicking party, doubling over with her hands on her knees, panting. “When I say seek, I didn’t mean the girls!”

“Hello there, Flo,” you say, petting the little butterfly dog gently and giggling as she stands on her hind legs, placing her paws upon your shoulders and pressing kisses. The pup was a gift from the Ambassador of Aviçon for the royal twins’ sixteenth yearday the earlier winter. Florian, as Historia’s elder by a full minute, claimed the right to give the dog a name and insisted they call the pup after her own royal self.

She straightens up at last and reaches out to you. “Give her here.” Her two companions catch up to their mistress at last, both equally as winded as their charge had been earlier.

The sudden influx of femininity somehow reminds Isabelle of the royal pleasure barge the rest of your party had taken for a sail down your side of the Woodisle, and pronounces her impatience and need to take a turn with the vessel.

As the other girls chatter and fawn over the royal pup, Historia catches your eye and gestures to the riverside with her head.

Sir Stafan inclines his head respectfully as the both of you pass and offers you a small smile, which you return. You are glad to see him risen so high, for one who is secondborn. The Anasenkos are loyal vassals to your House, and true; qualities that will serve him well in the Royal Guard. Sir Julian Halkin is standing on the other side of the stairway, face as still as the monument towering over you all across the waters. Old Blood both, from the North and the South.

Historia sits down upon the stone quayside, legs submerged to the knee within the deep blue waters of the river. You follow suit, hiking your skirts over your legs and toeing off your black leathern slippers; all at once, you grow desirous of the shorter tunics and sandals of home, garb more fitting for such wet pursuits.

The water is cool against your skin, pleasantly so. You wriggle your toes, gazing up at the gray skies above. It does not look to be breaking any time soon, thankfully.

“How is Prince Urklyn faring these days? And the little princess?” you ask after you have both settled.

Historia sighs. “Ah, Gisela, poor mite… she still cries for her mother, they tell me. Urklyn, though…” Her expression dims even more for a moment. “He’s grave, solemn, the perfect picture of a grieving husband but… I know he never truly loved the Lady Mariya, gods rest her soul. It was all duty between the two of them. At least they weren’t a pair at war, I’ll grant them that much.”

The Lady Mariya Tarasava, wife of five years to the future Urklyn Reiss IV, Crown Prince and Prince of Crownglen, had died of the sweats over a week past. The court erupted into panic then; while not immediately contagious, the sweats are almost guaranteed to be mortal to those who catch the feared disease, and the next few days saw the highborn flock to the Gardener’s temples and drain the Healers’ stores of preventative tonics. There have been no further cases of the illness thus far, though the court remains on tenterhooks.

“Father and daughter are healthy enough, thank the gods. But, argh, the vultures! Already circling around my brother, and Lady Mariya not even cold in her grave! The gall, I tell you!” Historia seethes, hands curling into fists on her lap.

You smile sympathetically and reach over, grabbing your princess’s hand and squeezing gently. You know some of those vultures well, as it happens. “They were bound to come out of the woodwork at some point. At least His Majesty is deferring, as he should for the moment.” As is Father, for that very reason.

Amiable and good-natured he may be for the most part, but Lord Alexander Rhyzkov has a streak of ambition in him as high as the most grasping of lords’. If you are not promised to Eren now, you know your father will be planning to offer you up in Lydia’s stead once the king grows more amenable to a new match for his heir.

You would have been content to marry Roman Meledin, if given the choice; you grew up together and are good friends besides, what more can you ask for? Yet it was not only the scandal of having his daughter fondled by his ward that drove Alexander to turn the boy away. Had you fallen pregnant with a Meledin bastard, he would have been forced to wed you off to his erstwhile page, and he has higher plans for his heir. The second son of the second-most powerful man in the realm is as fit a match as he can hope for for the prospective Lady Rhyzkova, for want of a prince. Better that than just a mere son of a vassal.

Historia returns your gentle grip, though the smile that graces her lips vanishes as soon as it has come. She sighs and glances up at the gigantic stone woman looming before you from the side of the building opposite your part of the Woodisle. Some founder of some institute, you think distantly, gazing up at the great gray face with mild interest.

“Speaking of Father…” Historia hesitates a little, then persists, “He’s been acting rather… strangely these days. Well, more strangely than his norm, in any case.” You chuckle slightly, prompting the princess to continue. “You know how I’ve told you about the vaults, yes?”

You sit up straighter at that, intrigued. You do not know how much of the court, outside of the royal family, is privy to this particular pastime of the king’s yet it is no common knowledge. The Conclave knows, for a certainty; Lord Alexander complains enough of His Majesty’s absences on the council’s worst days, that is for sure. The Royal Guard, as the king’s protective shadows, will also know. Perhaps those of the Conclave’s respective circles, like you, are privy as well, along with the handful of Priors His Majesty has employed to better educate him on the new arts, that which they call the ‘sciences’.

“Father’s been spending more and more time down there lately… this deal with the North must be affecting him worse than he lets on,” Historia confides in a hushed voice.

You chew on that a moment, considering. You suppose that is to be expected; if these sciences (apart from his whores) bring the king even some semblance of peace and diversion, as Historia once claimed, it will stand to reason he will spend longer hours in the vaults where he tinkers with his curios, especially in these more troubled times. “Well, I’m not entirely surprised. If I may speak honestly, he made things a great deal more complicated for himself. But I suppose there is no pleasing everyone… he’s bound to offend one side or the other whatever he does. I am surprised that he’s willing to deprive his favorite at all.”

You and the court both, yet none was as spectacularly taken aback as the favorite himself when the king declared a pardon to all the northmen who laid down their arms. To add salt to the northern opposition’s wounds, His Majesty further promised that Tybur’s hold and influence in the North shall henceforth be revoked; he and his folk are expected to cede their foregoing lands and return to the Tyburs’ seat of Herstadt within the year.

The lawyer Robert left court a happy man a week after his arrival. Though the sudden death of the Crown Prince’s wife delayed his audiences, he did not go home empty-handed and returned North laden down with good news and the promise of a royal visit during the summer progress, when the king himself will deliver his written terms to the Lord Skaryn in sight of his folk and formally offer his pardon to the northmen in his own royal person. The lords Kirschtein and Pixis have much to rejoice as well. Egstatten should be well clear of midlanders by year’s end; the added expense of a royal visit to Pixis lands is a small price to pay for that much-longed for boon.

That session at Conclave was as entertaining as a masque, to hear your father speak of it. It will seem that Willy Tybur has overreached himself at last. Apparently wearied by the constant coercions of his Consul (and perhaps having to endure a family funeral), His Majesty chose to deal with the man as he oft dealt with his Magister and put his lot in with the northmen.

When Tybur had the temerity to balk at the final royal decree, the king had, in no uncertain terms, reminded the man of his rightful place. “You forget yourself, my lord. Kin we might be, but you presume much to think that gives you power over me. I am the king. It is my word, my law, my realm. And you would do well to remember that.” This uttered in front of the very man His Majesty had said much the same thing to a decade past, the Consul’s greatest adversary, and an outsider to the court who has little reason to love the Tybur lord.

There is much to be said about this king, but one thing is for certain: he will not suffer threats to his rule, kin or no, real or imagined.

“Ugh, politics,” Historia wrinkles her nose, making you laugh. “You’re right, dealing with all of that at once would drive anyone to the deepest, darkest pit they could find to toy around with magic.”

“This coming progress is sure to be a very interesting one indeed,” you remark, eyes landing on Sir Julian and wondering how he feels about this recent development, before remembering that as a Royal Guardsman he is not permitted to have an opinion about this at all. If he does have one, it’ll certainly be much better than the opposing faction’s. The Midland lords who stand to gain with Lord Tybur’s rise now find themselves greatly diminished. Tybur’s star is exceedingly dim nowadays, to his enemies’ considerable delight.

But this is all for the best. Peace will return to the North once more (for the moment, at least; they always are such an unruly bunch, these northmen) and be made safer for all. Perhaps you may be able to visit the Godsway of Elibai a second time. If the South has the largest godstone in the realm, the North has its godsway in the Forest of Livda in the Province of Elibai, Zheletov’s neighbor to the northeast. It has oft been said that one of the Old Blood has not truly lived if he has not seen these two wonders, and you are fortunate to have seen both. It will be pleasant to walk through the Woods of the Whispering Pines again after all these years and see the hundreds of godstones lining the forest path.

And this time, Eren will be with you. You smile at the thought and paddle your legs dreamily through the cool river waters.

“Flo!”

The princess and her maid turn as one at the shriek. Historia gasps in abject horror. “Flo!” she cries shrilly and stands up in a rush, heedless of your own squeal of shock as a huge wave of water washes over you from the princess’s headlong dash, soaking your dress and lap.

Flo, the little menace, had thrown herself into the river chasing after her errant ball and had to be scooped up by the returning pleasure barge, which fortunately for her was nearby when she made the leap. The riverside party troops back into the castle sometime later with a sodden dog, a drenched princess, and a dripping maid, much to the confusion of the palace staff.

“And bugger off, ya whoreson, if ya know what’s good fer ya! Ya can get yer cunt by the walls.”

Guido the guard lumbers angrily past the gilt and alabaster pillars of their chartered chambers, cursing pricks, sots, and troublemakers all to the deepest level of hell. A pair of whores, swathed in tiny wisps of silk, titter as they walk by, looking back at the man as they whisper. A most familiar face makes itself present moments later, and Eren narrows his eyes over the rim of his goblet as he watches Porco Galliard- Sir Porco Galliard, he mustn’t forget that most illustrious title, mosey by with a whore under each arm.

Eren rolls his eyes to the frescoed ceiling, his left arm resting behind his head as he lays upon a velvet divan, an embroidered cushion bolstering his neck as he takes another sip of his drink and feels annoyance course hot through him like the rum that burns a track down his throat. The Galliard boy is a bellend of the worst kind; the prat has taken it into his head that being knighted much earlier than his peers gives him the right to lord it over all of them, though this is most pronounced in his relations with Reiner, who he holds a special loathing for.

The annoyance mellows in Eren at the thought of that bitter enmity. And its cause.

Loud laughter bursts from Reiner’s lips just then, the sort that can bleed into screams at a heartbeat’s turn. The man has much guff to flee from nowadays, to be sure. So flee he did to the one place he can escape from it all, even for just a moment, bringing the whole lot of them with him. As always.

And, as always, the Timid Cushion does not fail to entertain. Participant or spectator, the place makes sure its distinguished custom of the rich and powerful are well-satisfied by night’s end. It is whispered that the Magister before Lord Grisha, the late Lord Linse, had invested heavily in the pillow trade and owned several houses in the upscale Red Walk, the Cushion being one of them. That will certainly account for the tasteful (and costly) decor and the size of the establishment, second only to the Celesta further down the street (another establishment of his incidentally, and his most expensive, according to court gossip).

Recent court tensions have played upon many a lord’s nerves, including the elder Braun’s, who seems to be foisting his ill humors upon his heir. The heir, in turn, foisted his own consternation to his circle, though they at least are benefiting highly from it.

Bertolt and Bethany are sitting on the wide window seat before the leaded glass window playing at cards. And forfeits. Thus far, Bertolt has lost his coat, his belt, and his right boot; Bethany has lost her shawl and her own beaded belt, and both have undone their tunics to the navel. Connie is off in one of the two rooms in the chamber, making Melody sing. Faint gasps and moans of pleasure can be heard from behind the closed door if one cares enough to listen.

On the divan to the left of Eren's sit Jean and Poppy. Being cunt-struck for the Lady Mikasa has never stopped Kirschtein from flirting with the Cushion’s girls; all the same, it never goes farther than that, to his credit. He lost his virtue to Saskia, nevertheless, a couple of years back, much to his complete and utter devastation. Eren had laughed himself sick at the sight of Jean, naked as his yearday, drunkenly blubbering his grief to the Abhanese carpet he lay on and lamenting his regrets about not remaining pure for his beloved Mikasa. He had forsworn bedding whores ever since.

But tonight, Mikasa is in the palace, far from sight (though never from mind, knowing Jean), and Poppy sits curled up against the horseboy, eating grapes from his hand and giggling as he whispers pertly into her ear.

It is striking, really, how much Poppy resembles his betrothed, especially in this light, Eren thinks, resting the pewter lip of his goblet upon his own flesh one and looking on as the girl tosses her head back, laughing at one of Jean’s anecdotes. It is in her hair, her eyes, even the way she smiles…

Eren averts his gaze swiftly and drains his cup in one. His head swims at the abrupt intake of liquor yet he welcomes it, the better to take his mind off the budding tension in his groin. Perhaps he can drink himself to impotence instead of dwelling on thoughts of you wearing Poppy’s exceedingly short gauzy shift, which hides everything and nothing. He wonders how short your shifts truly are, though. You always wear a bedrobe over them whenever you steal out on your nights, robbing him of the alluring sight of your scantily clad nubile body. He had been blessed by the sight of your shapely legs once, as you clambered atop Klesvar’s forehead; brief it had been but he is thankful for that much, at least.

He tilts his goblet to his mouth and frowns at the miserly drop of rum that coats his tongue. The jug is sitting on the wooden table beside his perch, just within arm’s reach, yet it had as well be on the other side of the room. His body feels like it weighs twenty stone, and the divan is getting more and more comfortable by the hour. It won’t be the first time he’s spent the night in this brothel, but a large part of him better desires the comforts of his own bed.

His arm drops limply to the carpeted floor, still clutching his empty goblet, and his head lolls to the side, watching but not truly seeing Reiner pour wine down the nude front of his girl (Lavender or some such) and slowly lap it off.

“D’you like redheads, milord?” May the Maid leans over the back of Eren’s divan, smirking down at him, all seduction and naked as her yearday. She has clearly come from a tumble, by the look of her. Her hair is artfully tousled, her skin flushed and gleaming under the lamplight; bruises and bites litter her pale throat and full breasts, and she smells of lavender, sweat, and sex. “If I’d known, I would’a dyed me hair for you. Might be you’ll like me better then.”

Eren returns her smirk with his own. “I don’t suppose you’re still a maid?”

“Hmm, 'course I am, milord, why wouldcha think otherwise?” May giggles. “Oh, how much we’ve missed you, milord.” She reaches down to brush back his fringe, giving him a better look at her ample charms. He finds it more than passing droll that the barest hint of your breasts excites him more than any whore’s exposed ones, no matter how plump and pretty.

“Have you changed your mind 'bout fuckin’ us?” May glances at her redheaded peer, who is by now busy devouring Reiner’s mouth on the divan right across Eren’s. “Violet’s new. Came to us a maid, a right proper one this time,” she smirks once more, then continues. “‘Course, Talinia asked twice as much for her but she’s well broken in now and should be cheaper. Not by much, though. I dunno why men love reds so much,” she scoffs, tossing her own honeyed curls back haughtily. “They’re no better’n any other girl here. Hell, I’m better than her. She hasn’t been fuckin’ that long, anyways, not like me. Milord’ll have a better time with me than Miss Half-A-Maid, methinks.” She trails a finger down Eren’s jaw to his chest, partly bared by the loosened laces of his shirt.

“And methinks Milord has no desire to spend his time with the Cushion’s maids, half or whole, as you should know by now.”

The Maid pouts her fleshy bottom lip at him. “Milord’s just cost me me precious lapis flower necklace and Poppy’s emerald bracelets.”

“You shouldn’t be wagering on me, then.” He glances at the forenamed girl and spots her eyeing him and May closely from her place beneath Jean’s arm.

May shrugs one lovely bare shoulder, offhand. “‘S worth a try. Any girl’d want the privilege of havin’ Sir Pretty Eyes’ pretty eyes on her.” She touches the golden pearl upon his chest. “Your girl’s a lucky one.”

The corners of his lips turn up a little at that, and Eren moves his arm from behind his head, gently grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand away from the pendant.

“Oh, my, what’s milord been doin’ with his pretty fingers, hmm? Get in a fight? Trainin’ too hard?” May takes his hand in hers and presses a slow kiss to his bandaged digits, brown eyes dark and inviting.

Eren can feel himself responding to the touch and withdraws, sitting up and swinging his legs off the divan, turning his back on her. He closes his eyes against the spell of lightheadedness that besets him, then slowly opens them again once he is certain the danger of retching half his insides onto the richly carpeted floor is not forthcoming.

“Got in a fight with a knife taking up a new pastime. As you can see, I’m no good at it yet.” He had not thought to enjoy woodcarving so much. What started as a ploy for an Elena’s Day gift for his niece turned into something more personal, and he often finds himself of late whittling away at a block of wood in his slower hours. It gives his hands something to do, at any rate, and skill will come with time, he knows. He will be glad of it, then; mistakes are painful and enduring, as his fingers can attest.

At the least, he can make recognizable figures, according to you, though something tells him that was you attempting to spare him his feelings on the matter (he is still sure Ymir's present can pass for a falcon). The thought of you makes him place his goblet on the table. He reaches into his pocket for his pouch of coins.

“Here,” he says, turning back to the whore and tossing her a silver crescent, which she catches, surprised. “Coin you would’ve made if you actually fucked me instead of talking. I’d hate to have you come out the poorer for wasting your time and attentions on me.” He nods at Reiner, whose girl has apparently vanished to the other room in the chamber. “He’ll make a more willing fuck. Gods know the poor sod needs it. Make him forget his name for the night and teach Half-A-Maid a thing or two.”

The Maid simpers, rolling the coin between her slender fingers. “Always a pleasure havin’ you here, milord.” She leers at Reiner, who responds in kind, and saunters off to join Violet.

“You,” Reiner slurs, pouring himself a cup of rum, “are the best mate a bloke could ask for.”

Eren chuckles. “Happy to please.”

“Truly, you are.” Reiner takes a long, healthy swig of his drink. “Mother’s Tits, that’s good.”

“Easy there, Reiner, you still want to perform for the girls,” Jean puts in, arm draped around Poppy’s smaller form and carelessly toying with the ends of her tresses.

“Ah, sod off.” The big man throws himself against the back of the divan, head tilted to the ceiling. “If it can drown out the image of overbearing fathers, the better.”

Jean and Eren glance at each other. Nothing is more like to sober a man up, Eren thinks, eyes trained carefully at the Braun heir.

“You’re a good lad, Jean,” Reiner continues, still staring at the ceiling. “And I’m glad you'll get to keep what’s yours by rights. We should all just be content with what we have in this world. If only he could see that…”

Jean has tensed a little, Eren sees, and even he himself is starting to feel rather wrong-footed. Neither of them, it seems, truly grasps the depths of their friend’s distress. Bertolt, who is by now shirtless, looks over at them all with his brow furrowed, game and girl forgotten.

“Reiner-” Jean starts, but the older boy cuts him off by getting ponderously to his feet.

“Well, I mustn’t keep the girls waiting. Be free to do as you like. I’ll shoulder it all, as I said.” He vanishes into the second room soon after, leaving the lounge in a still silence.

Jean breaks it with a sigh. “And now’s as good a time as any to leave.” He pats Poppy on the shoulder. “I thank you kindly for the scintillating conversation, my lady, but alas, I must take my leave of your lovely presence.”

The whore giggles as she kisses his cheek and stands. “I’m no lady, milord, but I’m glad you like my yammering. It’s a nice change, it is.”

“A crescent for your time, in the manner of my friend here,” Jean grins, pressing the coin into the girl’s smaller palm and tapping her lightly on the hip.

Since when have we been friends? Eren wants to know, but the thought comes without spite. It isn’t such an appalling notion, that. He knows immediately then that he’s had three cups too many.

“You heading back?” Jean directs at him as he laces on his boots. He nods his affirmation and the two of them are soon departing the grandiose halls of the Cushion, leaving Bertolt and Bethany kissing hungrily over their game of cards as Poppy slipped into Reiner’s room, clearly looking to make most of her own night as well.

“Well, that was… an interesting way to end the night,” Jean comments as they make their way through the Red Walk and into the Golden District proper, home to the richer populace of the capital who just falls short of true nobility.

“I’ll say.” The cool night air is even more sobering than Reiner’s sad little speech, and Eren breathes it in, letting it wash away some of the dregs of his inebriation. He can still walk straight, he is pleased to note. In the distance, the city clocktower tolls Alyrya’s hour, the hour of the cat. “The Northern Matter haunts us all these days. I never thought it would follow me to a brothel, of all places.”

Jean makes a sound of assent. “I’ll be glad when it’s all over. Father’s quite strung up but he’s in much better spirits these days, thank the gods. Summer can’t come fast enough for him.”

“The progress’s only a week away, it’ll come soon enough.” They walk through the Lane of Kings, passing three stone Bertholds, an Ulrich, and an Urklyn before descending a set of steps, which Eren traverses gingerly for fear of tripping over his own feet and rolling down painfully the rest of the way (he does not roll, to his elation). “You northmen and your unruliness. Everything seems to happen because of you lot. Riots, uprisings, sedition, we get those from you every few years. I’m sure there are better ways to warm the blood up there than constant violence.”

“At least we have blood in our veins instead of the milk you have in your little southron bodies,” Jean rags, all northman all of a sudden, complete with brogue and inflection.

Eren blinks at him, thrown. “It’s so strange to hear you speak like that.”

“As opposed to the uppity midland court accent?” Jean laughs, speaking in kind once more.

“I suppose it’s easier to forget where one truly comes from in court.” The towers and turrets of Midford loom ever closer as they walk through the emptying streets.

“Not all the time. Times like this like to remind the lords of where their interests lie,” Jean says, as they slip down the more hidden side street to the west wing of the palace. A surly guard is on hand to greet them at the postern gate, which he swings open irritably with a quick jerk of his head. Eren hears him muttering something about cocksure lordlings under his breath once he and Jean are several paces away.

The palace is emptying as well. Dinner’s last few stragglers are making their way to their respective apartments, trailed by servants extinguishing chandeliers and lamps, and lighting smaller torches for the night. Lord Dot Pixis and Jean’s own father stroll by on the lower landing, deep in conversation. Where their interests lie, huh… “Times like this make you want to step away from all of that drivel.”

Jean follows Eren’s gaze to his father, and something flits across his face. “A pleasant thought but hard to realize. You can’t tell me your own lord father doesn’t have a stake in this whole matter.” He leaves Eren to his own devices then, descending the purple-carpeted steps they have just passed to hail Lord Kirschtein, vanishing into another hall with him and their lord vassal.

All that talk of stakes and matters is enough to turn anyone’s head, Eren thinks, a little peeved. I’m not drunk enough for this. He continues down the hall; he had as well sleep everything off. It is only when he passes a familiar tapestry that he realizes where he is headed.

The sight of the golden orb of Rhyzkov flying above the jagged teeth of a mountain range gives him pause.

He had told you about his night’s excursion with the lads earlier that day so you will not be expecting him tonight. And yet…

Eren presses on. He hopes you are awake and in your rooms, not gallivanting off with the Princess Historia in some obscure corner of the castle, giggling and whispering secrets. He goes down a bypath for a privy and takes a much-needed piss, feeling lighter once he empties his bladder. Sometimes, a piss really does feel better than a climax, especially on days like this.

Your face, when you open your door, is one of surprise. Robbed again. Your bedrobe tonight is a pretty confection of blue and violet satin embroidered with cranes and flowers in gold thread. The blue bleeding into the violet gives off the effect of a night sky, fitting for a nighttime garment, and for a time he stands before Ryneas herself, one half of the Lover’s whole and most beautiful of all the gods. Part of him (the part somewhere below his waist) still laments this very much covered-up vision, dazzling it may be.

“I thought you said you’d be out tonight,” you say, puzzled, one hand on the doorframe, the other on the door.

“Yes, but I decided to head back early.” He places a hand on the frame, just a bit above your own.

You frown at him. “How deep into your cups did you get?”

He pshaws at that. “I’ve only had the three cups.” He pauses, considering. “Maybe four.”

“Right.” You glance down the empty hallway and back at him, expression suddenly wary. Your grip on your door seems to tighten. “Perhaps you should head to bed, I don’t think you're-”

He interrupts you with a slow utterance of your name, leaning closer. His proximity makes you step away from him, and the wary look on your face deepens. You drop your hand from the frame; both hands now clutch at your door, poised to slam it shut if he so much as moves another inch. “I’ve drunk myself to impotence, so you don’t have to worry about me trying anything. And I did ask. My lady. If you would let me,” he adds, smirking a little at your sharp intake of breath. “I won't do anything without your express leave.”

Dragons and rain flash through his mind, as did yours, he can see as you stare at him with that most delectable look on your face, the very same you had given him all those weeks ago when he all but confessed to wanting to fuck you. Not that that went anywhere, he made sure of that, averse as he was to discomfit you with such attentions too soon (and too abruptly). The both of you have yet to address all of that in a more… abstemious environment, but it is more than enough to know that his suit is a long way away from being hopeless. At least, he believes so. If your responses to him then and now are any indication, though… he can trust to hope.

He pulls back at last, but not by much. Your grip on your door loosens. “You have nothing to fear,” he reiterates, more solemn now. “You’re not in danger of any rough wooing from me, I give you my word.”

A brief stillness shrouds the air between you. “I’ll hold you to your word,” you say finally, emerging from behind your door and closing it softly.

He smiles, triumphant. “I’d really like some company while I recover.”

“Recover how?”

“Tea, ice water, brandy, the best remedy for the grape. Or any sort of liquor, really,” he announces in the dimly lit silence of the servants’ dining hall sometime later, cradling his mug of tea as he sits across from you on the cornermost table on the left side of the room. The both of you were fortunate enough to catch Lisa’s girl, Sasha, sending some freckled squire off with an armload of foodstuffs as you entered the kitchen, and she had obligingly fixed you up with your drinks of choice before bidding you a good night, slipping out with a custard bun between her teeth.

“You’re surprisingly clearheaded for someone who’s had three, perhaps four cups of rum,” you observe, your hands wrapped around your own cup of tea, goldenglow as always.

“It’s ‘cause I pissed half the stuff out earlier,” he quips, giggling at your scrunched nose. “I could stand to be more clearheaded, though.”

“Yes, you can,” you mutter, taking a sip of your tea. “Did you leave the Cushion alone or did someone come with you?”

He finishes off his own tea and makes a start on his water. “Only Jean. The others were enjoying themselves too much to want to leave with us celibates.”

“Did you not enjoy yourselves, then? Slatterns weren’t charming enough for you?”

Eren has to stop himself from grinning too widely lest he further incurs your wrath, but the way you practically spat out the words of your last sentence is most amusing. “Have I told you that jealousy becomes you?”

You shoot him an unimpressed look. “I distinctly recall giving you leave to take your pleasures where you will. If you do decide to make good on that, where you choose to dip your wick makes no matter to me.”

Why does it sound like it does? “And I distinctly recall telling you not to play that hand with me, Lady Rhyzkova.” Your eyes flash up to him, and he presses on, “I already told you, wed or no, I won’t do that to you. And it’s no weakness to admit to those feelings with someone you’re already in confidence with. I can admit the thought of you being that familiar with another man doesn’t sit well with me at all.”

Your little cough strikes him dumb, for some bizarre reason. It is a harmless enough sound but for the way Lady Rhyzkova seems to settle herself more firmly on her seat across from him, where moments ago he had thought her like to vanish at last. It seems a great deal hotter in the room all of a sudden. Dimly, he wonders who lit the furnaces.

“Who was he?”

Lady Rhyzkova takes the measure of him momentarily before answering, “Some boy.”

He lets a few heartbeats pass. When it becomes clear that nothing else is forthcoming, he pushes, “I suppose this boy has a name?”

“Like most boys, he does.”

I don't think this is a good time to play coy with me, my lady. “Dare I ask how far Some Boy got to play around with my lady?”

Your expression freezes over at once. “Not far enough, you can rest assured of that, my lord. Have no fear, I’ll still come to you a maid.” Disappointment flickers across your face so fast he almost misses it. “I didn’t know those things meant so much to you.”

The livid growling beast inside him shrinks back at your words and that briefest hint of dismay on your lovely features. “N-no, it’s not that, I’d never think you spoiled. You’re anything but! It’s just-”

I want you only for myself.

He tenses, his mouth drying more than it already has. In truth, the subject of maidenheads means less to him than a rat’s ass. Yet, somehow, yours matter, but not in the way you think. He is slowly coming to find that the matter of your maidenhead is less about you needing to be as pure as the driven snow for him and more about his need to be your first and only one in all things carnal.

Eren’s fingers tighten around his cool mug, as though the chill may help him sort out his feelings. But the more he thinks about it, the more he finds himself wanting to be the first to kiss you, the first to know every curve and dip and inch of you, the first to have you. And to learn that someone else has the privilege of claiming even one of those firsts for you angers him more than anything else ever has.

“It’s just…?”

Your voice breaks him from his contemplative trance, and he looks up into Rhyzkova’s cool, beautiful mask-like visage. Another sense of stillness settles over you, this one more pregnant than the last.

“It’s just as I said earlier,” he says finally. “You being that familiar with another man doesn’t sit well with me. You can never be despoiled for me, never. A hundred men could have had you and I’ll still call you unspoiled. But knowing someone else had the honor to know you that way… it doesn’t sit well with me at all.”

“He never went that far, Some Boy,” you state, after a while. “Kisses, a touch or two, but he never went that far. He was never bold enough.” The way you look at him as you say those last few words strikes a chord with him. Why, it sounds almost like a challenge…

"I-I see." The mug of water is rapidly losing its chill. He downs it all in a couple of gulps, miraculously never spilling a drop, and tosses back the half-filled glass of brandy. He almost wishes it is stronger.

“It didn’t sit well with me, you visiting the brothel tonight.” You look down at your cup, mouth pursed. “I may give you leave but it will never sit well with me should you choose to take me at my word.” You smile a little then. “I’m glad to know that words are more than wind with you. And that you think me still unspoiled. Most men would turn their noses up at even half-used goods.”

He frowns at you. “You’re not chattel, why should I treat you like it?”

Your smile widens into something more real, and it is like watching the sun break through gray drabness after a week’s worth of rain. The silence that falls then is as comfortable as a feather-down quilt.

“I want to show you something,” he pipes up when you finally finish your tea. At your curious look, he tacks on, “It’s in the kitchens, you’ll see.”

He takes your hand in his and leads you out of the servants’ dining hall into the adjoining kitchens, taking one of the two torches Sasha had lit to guide your way. The faint smell of food lingering about the place makes his stomach rumble. He ought to have asked the girl for some nibbles, he thinks regretfully, but perks up once he notices a barrel marked ‘apples’ beside the very spot he wants to show his betrothed.

The barrel’s lid is already loosened, to his delight. He grabs a couple of apples and pitches one to you. “You wanted to show me apples?” you sally, and grin at his look.

“No, my exceedingly witty friend, I wanted to show you this perfectly made stone ledge.” There it sat between a wooden rack of baking tools and the apple barrel, perfectly gray, square, inconspicuous. A couple of empty wicker baskets perch atop it, adding to its perfect inconspicuousness.

“It is… certainly well-made,” you remark, running your fingers over the smooth stone before looking at him quizzically.

He grins as he searches for that third stone on the right, finding it and pressing; he snatches the baskets off cat-quick, carelessly depositing them atop the nearby barrel as the ledge sinks down into the ground with nary a sound and jerk to reveal the entrance to a dark passageway.

“That it is,” he replies, grin threatening to split his face at your shock as you stare at the passage with your mouth open.

“When did you find this?” You take a step closer, eyes flashing around the black cavern.

He grabs your hand once more and leads the way into the tunnel. The ledge slides quietly back into place as you proceed further forward, plunging you into complete darkness broken only by the orange light of Eren’s torch. “Armin and I found it some years back. We don’t usually go through here since it leads outside of the palace.”

“Where does this one lead?”

His smile, when it comes, is as mysterious as can be. “You’ll see.”

You step out into the blue-white wash of lamplight, on the quayside by the Woodisle, right beneath the royal gardens. You gasp in astonishment. “We’re in the riverside below the gardens.”

Eren mumbles his agreement, placing the torch on a sconce beside the hidden entrance behind the stone likeness of Richard I, the mind behind passages such as the one you just slipped through. The cool night air is refreshing, and it helps ease the liquor’s hold on him just that bit more.

“We just picnicked here the other day, there by the apple tree,” your voice floats back to him as you stand by the riverbank, gazing up at the huge black mass that is some woman’s monument.

“So you said.” He goes to join you, then bends down to unlace his boots and roll up the legs of his pants. “Flo is quite the character.” He sits beside the lamp’s plinth, shins sinking deep into riverwater.

You do likewise, sliding your white silk slippers off and lifting your robe to your knees as you settle down. Eren eyes the smooth perfection of your calves as they dip down into the black waters, and averts his gaze. He reaches into his pocket for his apple and takes a large bite to distract himself. The juice bursts on his tongue, sweet and tart in equal measure.

“Flo’s a sweet little thing but she can be such a handful,” you laugh, starting on your own apple. “Gave her mistresses quite the scare with that lark in the river.”

“If I pass out and get washed away by the river now, will you come and rescue me?” he asks, all guileless eyes and unaffected looks.

“You’re too heavy. We’ll both drown.”

“So you think me fat.”

Your gaze roams down his form a moment, lingering at his partly bared chest, before you look away. “I didn’t say that.”

His apple is now down to its core. Eren chucks it into the river and watches as the current bears it away, bobbing and turning. “Progress starts next week.”

“It’s that close already, huh… before we know it, autumn will be upon us again.” You take your last bite but do not discard your apple, turning the core over your hands slowly as you speak.

“Autumn and home, for you.” Lights still burn amongst the many buildings of Belris, banked and less numerous than its waking hours.

“I can’t wait to show you,” you beam, and your excitement feeds his own. He paddles his legs against the current, the water swirling around his limbs. “Speaking of the progress, though…” You pick at the remaining flesh of the fruit in your hands. “This one’s going to be momentous.”

It really is haunting us all. “And the North’ll finally quiet down and leave the realm in peace for another couple of years until their next grievance.”

You snicker. “If the gods are good, they should.” The wind runs light fingers through your hair and sends the pale ghostly petals of the apple blossoms flying into the air like unseasonal snow. “That lawyer must be an astoundingly good one to sway His Majesty so. That or the king’s finally tired of his favorite pet. That’s better for you and yours, yes?”

“Father did say the man has a silver tongue.” Having been well-acquainted with it himself. There is no doubt that the man is interesting, interesting enough to have a private audience with in his own solar. Eren can only imagine what manner of intrigues and propositions they spoke about then.

You lob your own core into the river, which makes a small splash as it hits the water before tumbling away. “Of course he does. Lawyers can’t do without one of those, after all.”

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

***

A/N:

The Northern Matter is looming larger and lurks in all POVs, no matter what they're focusing on at the time - it'll still be sometime when true hostilities rise but they have to start somewhere...

But I did love getting inside alcohol-affected Eren's mind - he's an entertaining boy when he's had a drop or so, haha. Made him admit to really, truly wanting YN (for himself) - and a jealous Eren is a rather risky thing. Tread carefully 👀

Also, ajsdjashdsdhsks I am REALLY toying with the idea of writing a smutty one-shot about EreYN if they did consummate the relationship much earlier than planned... but then idk if that'll take away from the actual scene when they finally do it... but then The Smut is... a LONG way away, lmao, so would the one-shot matter??? Idk, I'll think about it... I WILL write it, but we'll see if I post, ahahaha... 😅

Oh, and I thought I'd post (finally, idk why I didn't post the thing earlier) a very simple map of Lovaya instead of letting it gather dust in my Trello board. This better gives one an idea of what Tybur has to lose:

And I can't post Lovaya without posting the Known World. Just for scale. We have the 7 living continents (Eldia is darkened out and dead), and a hint of Paradis in the Anderven continent. Basically, think of Lovaya as something like Australia, both a continent and a country divided into 8 States.

Thank you so, so much for reading and taking an interest!!! ❤❤❤ I hope I can still deliver the rest of the story well and I'm really looking forward to what's coming next and I hope you guys are, too!

Tagging: @princess-jaeger @lukepattersin @erentoes

#eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #eren jeager x reader #Eren Jaeger #eren yeager #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin

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zepskies · 7 months

Text

The Miracle Man

Pairing: Boaz Priestly x F. Reader

Summary: The first time you met Priestly was both the worst and best night of your life. He gave you a Miracle.

AN: Here’s the prequel to Code Red! (But this can also be read as stand alone.) I hope you enjoy. And just a note, remember this was circa 2007, still the era of flip phones and iPods, despite the advent of the iPhone.

Word Count: 3,500

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for mature talk. A kind of meet cute, insecurities, angst, breakups, hurt/comfort, sandwiches, fluff and feels.

He was a lone ranger in the Wild West. His weapon of choice?

A dirty mop.

Priestly bopped his head to the music playing from his earbuds. His iPod was tucked in his right jean pocket while he speared the mop across the floor of the sandwich shop. It was three minutes to closing time on a Saturday night, and it was his turn to clean up and lock up.

He was looking forward to getting home, taking a shower, and diving face-first into his bed. But first, he just needed to kill three minutes.

Come on, come on, come oooon, he sang in his mind as the hands on his watch ticked on. While glancing down at said watch, he remembered it had been a gift from Tish for his birthday…

Three months ago. When they were still together.

Priestly heaved a sigh. What were you supposed to do with gifts from your ex that you actually liked? The gifts that made it into your everyday life, not just because they were from the person you thought you loved, but because it was actually hella practical and a nice accessory to keep on your person?

It’s just a damn watch. Don’t make it a big deal, he reminded himself. What was he supposed to do, have a ritual burning of everything Tish had ever touched?

That would take all damn night. And he definitely drew a line at his dick.

“Hello?”

The front door of the shop opened, the little bell Trucker installed chiming with too much cheer and startling Priestly out of his thoughts.

“We’re closed,” he said. But that was before he looked up, and had to pause in his mopping.

You were standing there, holding yourself in the open doorway with the cold breeze hitting your back. You were wearing a red cocktail dress and the highest black heels he’d ever seen, with your styled hair falling around your shoulders.

You were entirely too beautiful to be in this old sandwich shop, he thought. It had Priestly swallowing, frozen in time.

“Really? The sign says 10,” you pointed out. There was a level of desperation in your eyes. “Please, you’re the only place with the lights still on and I’ve been all up and down the block.”

Blinking out of his idiotic state, Priestly looked down at his watch again. It was exactly 9:59 p.m.

Well, damn. Got me on a technicality.

He held in a sigh.

“Okay, come on in,” he waved you over. Setting down his mop, he rounded the counter and went to man the register. He gave you a minute to peruse the menu. He noted that aside from your stunning attire, you had a cell phone in your hand that clearly couldn’t fit in that little purse hanging off your shoulder, bumping along your hip.

He couldn’t help but visually trace the curves of your hips and waist, back up to the sweetheart neckline of the dress, the deeper shade of your lipstick and up to your face.

But then he felt bad for staring, so he looked up heavenward before you caught him.

Meanwhile, your eyes drifted from the menu and dipped to his chest for a moment.

“Too bad I’m not gay,” you said.

What? Priestly frowned in confusion. But following your gaze, he realized you were staring at his yellow shirt, which read in big, 70s-style letters: Be Gay & Proud, Get a Free Drink.

His lips twitched at a grin, and he looked up at you. “D’you know what you want?”

You had a smile starting to play on your lips as well. You went back to considering your choices.

“Not sure, but I’m starving. What do you recommend?” you asked.

Priestly’s lips puckered as he considered the menu he knew by heart.

“Well, if you wanna go classic, I’d do a Spicy Italian on white bread. If you wanna be adventurous, we just added the Jalapeño Buffalo Chicken Club," he said. "But, if you wanna get crazy awesome, I can put on some Zeppelin and make you something special of my own design.”

He colored that last option with a gesture of his hand, a flourish, if you will. You tilted your head at him and smiled.

“Okay. Surprise me, Sandwich Man.”

Priestly snorted while he washed his hands again. “Sounds like the lamest superhero ever.”

“With his death-defying salami summoning powers,” you quipped, with a giggle that had him smiling as well.

“Nice alliteration,” he said. And he made a show of tying his apron back on. “Don’t worry, ma’am. Your late-night hoagie is safe with me.”

You tried to stifle another laugh while he worked his magic. From bread to meats and cheeses and toppings, Priestly was a master of his craft. He had that 12” hero wrapped and sliding across the counter towards you in record time.

“I call this the ‘Miracle,’” he winked. “You’ll see why. But that’ll be $10 even.”

You nodded and turned to the purse on your hip. You opened up the little velvety thing, but your face fell when all you found was your keys, not your credit card.

“No.” Your heart dropped into your stomach. You opened your purse wider and flipped through the satin insides, but you saw that it was empty. “You’ve gotta be shitting me. I know I had my wallet in here…”

And then it dawned on you.

“That fucking asshole,” you growled.

Priestly’s eyes widened. “Uh…”

Your head snapped up to his. “I had a different purse picked out for tonight. You know, one that actually had my wallet in it? But my know-it-all boyfriend had the nerve to say, ‘That one’s too shiny, looks kinda cheap. This is a restaurant at the Ritz-Carlton, not a hooker hangout.’ Can you believe that?”

Priestly blinked in confusion, but he realized that in your purse shuffling, you had no way to pay for this amazing sandwich he’d just concocted.

And now, you actually had the beginnings of frustrated tears in your eyes as you took in a shuddering breath.

“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I can’t—I can’t pay for this. I don’t have my wallet… Hold on, let me see if he’ll…”

You held up a finger and started dialing manically on your phone. You held it up to your ear and waited. Your tears sprang forth anew when the line just kept ringing until it sent you to voicemail.

“Figures,” you scoffed. “The one time I actually need this douchebag to answer, he ignores me!”

You slammed the phone down on the counter and covered your face with your hand as you sniffled. Priestly softened with sympathy. You seemed to be having a harder night than he thought.

He slid the sandwich your way, making you raise your head.

“It’s okay. This one’s on the house,” he said. “Looks like you could use a pick-me-up.”

Your watery eyes met his. “Really? You don’t have to…”

“No worries,” he replied, giving you a bit of charm in his grin. “I’ll even throw in a soda. Lady’s choice.”

Your lower lip trembled, but you were able to smile. With a quiet thank you, you wiped under your eyes carefully so your mascara wouldn’t run. Then you grabbed a Coke from the machine along with your sandwich from the counter.

“Do you mind if I eat here?” you asked, gesturing at one of the tables. “I promise I won’t leave a mess. I know you’re trying to close up.”

Priestly waved a dismissive hand. “Sure. Don’t worry about it.”

He went around the counter to take up his mop and continue where he left off in the cleaning process. But he couldn’t help but eye you every now and then. Curiosity was starting to eat him alive.

Had your boyfriend just dumped you here? Had you gone off alone? Somehow, he couldn’t see the first option happening. If you were his girlfriend, he would do his best not to let you walk away angry at him, let alone this late at night, without any money or even your ID.

“Are you coming from a party or something?” he found himself asking. You looked up from your second bite of the sandwich. You’d looked to have been truly enjoying it, uttering a moan that’d caught his attention.

“No,” you chuckled humorlessly around a mouthful of bread. “I was supposed to meet his parents. His rich, very bougie, hyper-critical parents. Somehow it didn’t occur to me that he was just like them.”

Priestly paused and leaned on his mop. He was hesitant, not wanting to disturb you while you were eating, but he was too damn hooked.

“So…what happened?” he asked. You scoffed and took another massive bite of your sandwich.

“Okay, you want to hear this? Fine,” you began. “So, I’m a stress eater by nature. Let’s just start with that.”

“Who isn’t?” Priestly supplied. Pursing your lips, you raised a black olive at him in a thank you gesture.

“But when I tell you I spent three months depriving myself to fit into this dress. No carbs, cheese, chocolate, or happiness.”

He grimaced. “That’s no way to live.”

“Exactly!” you concurred. “But I did all that so my boyfriend would have nothing to say when I finally met his parents for this dinner—to celebrate him graduating from med school.”

Priestly found himself dimming inside. Not only were you spoken for, but you were with a future doctor, no less. The only title Priestly had to his name was Sandwich Man.

“It started with the purse thing when he picked me up. Then when we get there, he keeps telling me how stuffy his dad is and how judge-y and critical his mom can be and how I’m a reflection on him,” you mocked in an impression of his voice.

“Then I find myself second-guessing every word that might come out of my mouth, and I’m too nervous to even eat the $60 plate of Chilean sea bass in front of me, and not to mention, there’s a glass of wine in my hand. I don’t even like wine!”

By now, it was all Priestly could do to keep up with your verbal spitfire. You were also gesticulating wildly with your sandwich the more worked up you got.

“I mean, I’m saying things I don’t say, and suddenly I realize that I’ve wrapped myself up in so many knots for this man, I don’t even recognize myself,” you confessed. Your eyes lit up with a gleam of clarity. Your hands lowered down to the table, and after a beat, you continued eating.

“But then my boyfriend of over a year turns to me and says, ‘Why are you being so weird and frigid?’” you said. You met Priestly’s eyes. “I just, I got so mad. I wanted to choke him out with my napkin, you know?”

He bit his lip to stifle a laugh.

“So instead of violence, I grabbed the glass of pinot noir, or chardon-perignon-whatever-the-fuck, and I poured it in his lap,” you concluded. “Then I walked out. And I ignored his calls. And I kept walking. Then a nice guy made me a sandwich.”

Priestly had to smile at that. He knew there was a Ritz-Carlton in the area, but that had to be almost a mile down the street. You’d walked a long way in those crazy-ass heels.

He propped his mop against a nearby table and sat down across from you. He shook his head in wonderment. And inside, your words kind of rattled him.

I’ve wrapped myself up in so many knots, I don’t even recognize myself.

“You know, sometimes I really, really wish I was gay,” you said, gesturing at his shirt.

“O-Oh…really?” he asked, raising his brows.

“Yeah, I do,” you answered. “I’m a quick study. I could learn to eat pussy.”

If he had been drinking something, he would’ve spat it out. He mentally fumbled for a moment before he could articulate a response.

“Well, I don’t doubt you, but it can be an acquired taste. Though I happen to like it,” he replied, grinning mostly to himself. He didn’t even think about how it might come out though.

As soon as he realized what he was saying to a perfect stranger, his eyes widened and met yours.

"Uh, sorry," he said.

But you just chortled in amusement. Your blush intensified though, along with your smile as you took a sip of your soda.

“You’re uh…you’re pretty awesome,” he said. And he meant that.

You blinked in surprise. Your lips twitched upwards, a blush rosy in your cheeks.

“Yeah?” you asked. His smile deepened.

“Yeah,” he replied. “And for the record, I know I just met you, but…I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Your face softened with a certain shyness, but you smiled at him through your lashes.

“Well, I appreciate that…” you trailed, realizing you didn’t yet know his name.

“Priestly,” he offered, along with his hand across the table. You slipped your smaller hand in his and gave him your name.

Though you quirked a brow at him. “Priestly? That’s your first name?”

Now it was his turn to get a little embarrassed.

“Uh, no,” he said, his gaze falling from yours. He scratched the back of his head, under the blue mohawk.

“Oh. What is it, then?�� you asked.

“You don’t want to know,” he chuckled wryly.

“I think I do, or I wouldn’t be asking,” you countered. Your smile was playful though. Disarming, even.

“It’s um, it’s Boaz,” he admitted. You tilted your head, as if swirling the name around in your head. But you didn’t say it was weird, or stupid, or too biblical. You just smiled.

“Boaz Priestly. Interesting,” you nodded. Then you wrapped up your garbage, having eaten all of your sandwich. You made sure to collect every crumb, even though he’d told you not to worry about the mess. You got up to take it to the trashcan near the door.

“How’re you getting home?” he asked.

You bit your lip. The anxiety in your eyes told him you’d been pondering that same question. You let out a deep breath.

“I guess I’ll have to walk back to the hotel, try to get a ride from my b…my ex-boyfriend. Gotta get used to saying that,” you said. “I promise I’ll pay you back for the sandwich.”

“Didn’t I tell you it was on me? Don’t worry about that,” said Priestly. “But I’ll tell you what, let me give you a ride.”

You shook your head. “Oh, thank you, but we just met, and I—”

Just then, Priestly realized how his offer sounded. He didn’t want to creep you out.

“Ah, or I can get you a cab,” he said. “I doubt you want to see that guy again tonight, do you?”

You bit your lip, smudging some of the scarlet red lipstick there. It distracted him for a moment, but he returned his gaze to your eyes.

You sighed. As much as you didn’t want to impose again, you let Priestly call you a cab. He paid for it in advance after you gave the cabbie your address. Before you got in the car, you turned to Priestly and touched his arm.

“Thank you,” you said. “I promise, I’ll come tomorrow and pay you back.”

He smiled. “You can try.”

He earned your sweet smile back, and he watched you get into the cab. He tried not to raise his hopes up, but he really did hope he’d see you tomorrow.

And yet, he should’ve known it was too good to be true.

“Maybe she got caught up at work or something,” Jen tried to console him the next day at closing, after you didn’t show up.

“It’s Sunday,” he pointed out grumpily. He continued to wipe down Table 4 of some nasty residue of mayo and pickled radish.

“You don’t know what kind of job she has,” Piper interjected. She was making a tuna salad sub on wheat for the last customer, which she then passed on to Tish at the register. “Maybe she’s in retail, or she’s in the restaurant business too—or hey, a lifeguard! This is a beach town after all.”

“Or maybe, she just played you into getting free food and a ride home,” Tish suggested, with her usual brand of cutting sarcasm. It just tended to cut a bit deeper these days, whenever it was leveled at Priestly.

The post-breakup thing had been tense and awkward for everyone, and it still hadn’t normalized just yet in their little sandwich-making ecosystem. Jen shot her friend a look though, one that told her she was being bitchy.

The problem was, she’d only voiced what Priestly was thinking anyway, deep down.

“Amazing, serendipitous things don’t happen to me, Piper,” he said. “Not anymore.”

He continued cleaning.

Three weeks later, it happened on a Friday afternoon.

It was one of their busiest times of the week. Tish was at the register as usual, Jen was sorting through the inventory and bussing tables, and Priestly was making hero after hero like a fiend, alongside Piper. He was definitely living up to his name of Sandwich Man.

He was still able to recognize your voice near the register.

“One 12” Miracle, please,” you requested.

“Um…we don’t have that on the menu,” Tish replied. But Priestly looked over with a grin. He met your gaze, and found you smiling back at him.

Tish followed the exchange with suspicion.

“One Miracle, coming up!” Priestly called out.

He had the order ready within minutes, but he was painstaking about it, not an olive out of place. He wrapped it up nicely and walked it over to the register himself, placing it in front of you on the counter.

“Well, hi there,” he greeted.

A familiar blush spread across your face, just as endearing as he remembered. The only thing different about you so far was your clothes. No longer dressed to the nines, you were more casual in your jeans, ankle boots, and V-necked top.

In every other way, you were the same. It might’ve been making his heart trip up.

“Hi,” you said. “Got a minute, Miracle Man?”

Priestly ducked his head, hiding a more bashful smile. Before he could respond, Tish interrupted, “That’ll be $10.”

You nodded and handed her a $50 bill. She looked at you in confusion.

“The rest is a tip, for the hero makers,” you explained, glancing at both Priestly and Piper. He gave you an incredulous smile.

You little minx, he thought. He couldn’t say no if you were tipping Piper too.

But he did ask Jen to help fill in for him while he made his way around the counter to go to you. Tish just watched the scene unfold with a silent frown, like she was trying to make sense of what was happening. She always thought she’d be the first one to move on.

“Let’s talk outside. Little more privacy from the peanut gallery,” Priestly said to you, tossing a knowing glance over his shoulder. You spotted all the employees now watching you and Priestly closely.

You became a touch more shy as he led you out of the shop with a hand resting on the small of your back. You slipped your sandwich into a larger purse than last time. Then you looked up at him with apologetic eyes.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to come back here,” you said. “It got a bit…ugly, after that night.”

Priestly’s brows furrowed in concern. “Ugly?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you assured him. “Lots of shouting and empty threats, then half-assed apologies. But I’m done with all that.”

Priestly considered that with a nod. “Well, good. I’m glad to hear you’re doing better.”

You stared up at his face, and you thought he really seemed to mean that. You knew you shouldn’t be feeling that familiar flutter in your stomach, not three weeks after breaking up from a year-long relationship. Even so, the night you walked out of this shop, you felt free. Like you could breathe again.

You felt like you.

So now, you leaned up and kissed Priestly on the cheek.

His eyes widened a fraction as he stared down at you. You smiled and grasped his hand.

“Would you maybe want to…ask me out sometime?” you asked. A nervous giggle escaped you, making him smile.

“Y-Yeah, I would. If you’re sure you want me to,” he replied. In the past, maybe he would’ve let his excitement get the best of him. He’d be trying to jump at this chance. Experience had taught him not to hope too hard though. Sometimes, getting what you wished for backfired in your face.

You squeezed his hand, earning his attention.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked. Your smile became teasing before you used his words against him. “From what I’ve seen so far, you’re pretty awesome. But mostly pretty.”

He had to laugh at that. Pretty was not something he’d ever been called in life. Weird, freak, try-hard goth—that was all familiar territory. His tattoos and piercings tended to bring that out in people.

But he gathered some courage and squeezed your hand back.

“Well, you’re beautiful,” he said, thumbing at your chin. His eyes met yours and got lost there for a moment. “Uh, really beautiful.”

You blushed further and bit your lower lip out of habit. It drew his gaze, and he gained a little more courage. He tilted your chin upwards, so he could find those lips easier in a kiss. Your fingers curled in the front of his shirt and brought him closer. His hand found your cheek as he angled deeper into the kiss.

Despite the chill on the air, the California sun was warm and beating down on you both.

It was the perfect day for a Miracle.

AN: How I love Priestly lol. If you liked this, let me know! 💜

Priestly Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BP Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28

@charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @siampie @sanscas @kaleldobrev

@waters-2567 @pieandmonsters @akshi8278 @deans-spinster-witch @jackles010378 @idiotdyslexic @heartlessdelusions @chriszgirl92

#The Miracle Man #Code Red Prequel #10 Inch Hero #Boaz Priestly #Boaz Priestly x reader #Boaz Priestly x female reader #Boaz Priestly x you #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles #Priestly x reader #Priestly x you #Priestly #Priestly x female reader #zepskies writes

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eiressofinspirationwrites · 5 years

Text

Of Heaven and Hell - Attacked

Pairing: Crowley x Female OC/Reader x Aziraphale

Word Count: 2617

Description: What happens when a priest knocks on the door of a home where heaven and hell live side by side?

Note: So, this is a bit different than some of my fics since it’s written in second person POV but uses the name and pronouns of an OC of mine. I wanted to give this a shot and see what you guys think of it. I really enjoyed writing this way and might write more of my OCs like this. I would obviously still write all of my requests (unless otherwise specified) the same way I’ve written all other reader inserts. This is just something I’m experimenting with for OCs. Hope you enjoy!

Warning: There is some violence in this chapter and a few disposable characters I made up die. So proceed at your own discretion. Nothing is really overly graphically descriptive.

********************

“Are you Azalea Fell?” a smartly dressed man asked after you opened your front door to greet him.

“That depends entirely on who you are,” your eyes narrowed as you appraised your unexpected visitor.

“My name is Arthur Priestly,” your visitor smiled kindly, “I’m a patron of St. Matthew’s Church just down the street. I’ve been going around trying to spread God’s word and invite our neighbors to a community appreciation service we are hosting next week.”

“I’m sorry to have wasted your time then, Mr. Priestly, you said stiffly, “but God’s word isn’t exactly my cup of tea.”

“Nonsense, God’s word is for all of his children,” Mr. Priestly insisted.

“I’m a very busy woman, Mr. Priestly,” you bristled, “I really need to get back to my work.”

“Of course,” he acquiesced, “before we part ways, would you mind if I came in for a drink of water? It is rather hot today and I have many more houses to visit.”

You carefully considered for a few moments before opening the door wider to allow him entry, “Fine, but make it quick.”

“You are very kind, Ms. Fell,” Mr. Priestly smiled gratefully.

“Follow me,” you jerked your head towards the kitchen, “and you can call me Lia.”

After he closed the door behind himself, he lingered for a moment before he followed after you. What he didn’t know was that you heard him lock the deadbolt on the door.

“Do you prefer sparkling or still water, Mr. Priestly?” you asked sweetly, once he joined you in the kitchen.

“Still water is just fine, my dear,” he replied.

“Coming right up,” you chirped and reluctantly turned your back to him to grab a glass from the cabinet, but you kept your senses wide open in case he tried something funny.

“Do you have a boyfriend, Lia?” Mr. Priestly asked as you filled the glass with tap water.

“Oh, yes,” you replied, given the nature of this visitor you decided keeping your second partner out of the conversation would be wise, “Anthony is quite lovely, but he’s got a devilish streak in him.”

‘I’m sure he does,” Mr. Priestly said, but the sudden change in the tone of his voice gave you goosebumps.

“He should be-,” You’d turned around to hand your guest his water but was taken by surprise when his fist connected with your face.

The glass fell from your hands and shattered on the floor sending shards of glass and water everywhere. You were too busy clutching your aching jaw to care about the mess.

“Son of a bitch that hurt!” you cursed.

“I don’t believe it,” Mr. Priestly stood wide-eyed in front of you, a set of brass knuckles with strange sigils carved into its surface hung loosely from his fingers, “I was right. You are a demon!”

“What the hell gives you that idea?” you growled.

“Your eyes are that of a serpent and they burn with hellfire,” Priestly said angrily.

You cursed under your breath when you realized your sunglasses had been removed from your face by the force of the punch you’d received.

“Alright, you caught me,” you said, summoning as much irreverent confidence as you could in an attempt to intimidate him, “Now what do you plan to do? From what I can see you’re outnumbered. I’m not your ordinary demon, Mr. Priestly. I’m not even sure anyone's got a proper word for what I am. My parents were an angel and a demon.”

“You’re even more of an abomination than I thought!” Mr. Priestly took a horrified step back.

“Ah, so you are familiar with my kind,” you smiled, satisfied by the proper fear emblazoned in his expression, “So, Mr. Priestly,” you hummed, “I just have one more question for you.”

“And what’s that?” he asked.

“Have we stalled long enough for your reinforcements to finish breaking in through my bedroom upstairs?” you asked.

“I-I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he stammered.

“Now there’s no need to lie,” you tutted, “I can hear your heartbeat from across the room.”

“You truly are wicked,” he snarled.

“Love, you haven’t seen wicked,” you laughed, “and you never will.”

Before he had a chance to react, the man fell to the ground gasping for air at a snap of your fingers.

“What the hell have you done?!” a new voice barked at you when he saw you standing over the body of your first human kill in over a century.

“Oh, I’m afraid he ran out of air,” you sighed as you stepped over his corpse, “I’m hoping you’ll be more challenging to kill. I haven’t had the chance to really stretch my powers in quite some time. I’ve made it a point to only kill truly horrible people. I do have morals.”

“That’s priceless,” the newcomer laughed heartily, “A demon who thinks they have morals.”

“Oh, I really don’t want to repeat myself,” you whined, “So, I’ll just fight you instead and show you that I’m not your run-of-the-mill demon.”

"Bring it, beast," the man snarled.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” you grinned wickedly as you peeled off your jacket, “What’s your name by the way? So, I know what to put on your headstone.”

“Die, demon!” the man bellowed as he charged towards you.

“How dull,” you sighed before sidestepping his bulk and allowing him to sail past you.

What you didn’t anticipate was the knife he’d pulled from its sheath during his charge. You hadn’t accounted for its length, so it grazed your bicep, which elicited a hiss as the cold metal drew across your skin.

“Interesting,” you said through gritted teeth as you watched the wound bubble.

“I had it blessed,” your attacker explained as he loomed over you, “It will kill your kind dead.”

“That’s just dreadful grammar,” you rolled your eyes, “I’m bored with you already.”

You waved your hand and sent the man flying across the room. He hit the wall with a sickening crunch and crumpled to the floor in a heap, where he lay motionless.

“Wicked bitch!” a third voice yelled from only a few feet away.

“Not many people could sneak up on me like that,” you whipped around but were mildly impressed, “but to be fair I was distracted.”

“Your reign of terror is over,” the man declared as he hefted a bucket off the floor. Liquid sloshed over the lip of the bucket as he prepared to throw it at you.

“No!” your eyes widened when you realized what the bucket must be filled with but you had no time to react in any way other than to throw your arms in front of your face and cringe away from the wave of water.

You’d avoided holy water like the plague your entire life. At first, it was because you were unsure of what effect it would have on you since you were only half-demon and never had the desire to find out. Then a few decades ago a band of angels abducted you to experiment on you. During those experiments, they injected small amounts of holy water into your veins. That pain had been excruciating but you'd survived. That experience didn't prepare you one bit for the pain that washed over you as the skin exposed to the holy water started to bubble and burn.

Almost immediately after your exposed skin started to bubble and burn it turned black and began sloughing off of your body in globs of black goo that squelched sickeningly as they hit the ground.

“Die, Demon!” the final attacker howled as he charged at you, his knife raised high to land the killing blow.

He thought you were incapacitated by the pain and maybe a lesser being would have been but your anger and pain mixed into a rage unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

“ENOUGH!” you bellowed as you uncurled your aching body and stood as straight as you could.

You mustered your waning strength and allowed every ounce of your considerable power to manifest.

“W-what are you,” the man stopped dead in his tracks, terrified by the energy that crackled around you.

“My name is Azaliaphael,” your voice took on an eerie and deep tone that was layered over your regular voice, “and I am the only living child borne of both heaven and hell and you will suffer.”

“N-no, please!” the man begged but you were past the point of caring

You weren’t sure what was going to happen to him when you shot every bit of your power at him but in the moment you didn’t really care.

The only thing you could feel was complete and utter agony as your skin continued to burn. You just wanted the attack to end and end it did. The man was stopped in his tracks just a few feet away from you as he burst into violet flames and collapsed into a heap of flailing limbs and screaming.

You didn’t allow yourself to relax until his blood-curdling wails stopped and you were left in an eerie silence broken only by the crackling of the remaining flames licking at his corpse.

Relieved the fight was over, you stumbled away from the burning body and sagged to your knees in the middle of the room. Your chin fell to your chest as you sobbed while the pain continued to ripple through your body and intensify. You were unsure how long you sat there but were aware enough to cringe when the front door burst open and slammed against the wall.

You bristled, prepared to fight if you had to but you felt nothing but relief when your eyes fell upon a familiar face.

“Lia?!” Crowley cried when he saw the state you were in, “What happened, love?”

He started to rush towards you but your panicked scream stopped him in his tracks, “NO!”

“Love, let me help you,” Crowley begged, “You’re hurt.”

“I know,” you growled through gritted teeth, “but my clothes are soaked with holy water.”

“Shit,” Crowley cursed as he realized there were still small tendrils of smoke curling off of you where the holy water on your clothes continued to burn your skin.

“You can’t help me,” you sobbed, terrified by the thought of what would happen to him if he touched you.

“Tell me how to help you, love,” he pled.

“Clear away these bodies,” you gestured vaguely towards the three corpses strewn about the large foyer of the home you shared with your angel and demon

“Did you do all this?” Crowley gaped at the carnage, “You haven’t-,”

“I know,” you hissed, “just clean it up.”

“Alright,”

Crowley followed your request, making sure to avoid the holy water still pooled on the floor in places.

You watched him through drooping eyelids as you struggled to stay conscious. Soon enough you lost the battle. The last thing you could remember was Crowley’s voice yelling your name and you sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening that he wouldn’t touch you.

********************

The first thing you registered upon regaining consciousness was the pain throbbing through all of the burns the holy water had inflicted.

The second thing you registered was that all of those burns had been covered in some kind of salve, that numbed a fraction of the pain, before being carefully bandaged. Unfortunately, that meant most of your torso, arms, and legs were encased in bandages which restricted movement. Thankfully, your arms had spared most of your neck and face from the holy water but there were a few small patches that had been splashed. So, they were treated as well, but they weren’t as serious as the rest of your wounds.

The third thing you registered was that you had been dressed in light pajamas and brought to your bedroom.

The final thing you registered, which brought a small smile to your face, was Crowley’s sleeping form slumped beside your bed. He’d pulled up a chair beside the bed, but had obviously fallen asleep and ended up in a position that had him half in the chair and half on the bed.

You smiled slightly and gingerly lifted a shaky hand to run your fingers through his long hair, which had provided you with many hours of joy since he’d grown it in the months since the failed apocalypse.

Surprised by the sensation, Crowley jolted awake. Regrettably, the jerky action made you jump as your partner shot upright. Every muscle in your body revolted against the action and sent intense waves of pain through you.

“I’m so sorry, love,” Crowley apologized, his hand immediately finding yours, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I wasn’t expecting you to wake up so soon.”

“It’s okay,” you hissed as your muscles started to relax and the pain subsided a bit, “What happened? How did you get me in here?”

“After you passed out, I called Aziraphale,” Crowley explained as he reached out to gently brush a strand of your hair out of your face, “He rushed home. He was beside himself but he got you dried off and patched up.”

"Where is he?" you asked glancing around the room.

"He popped out a bit ago," Crowley explained, "He should be home any minute."

“D-did he see?” your eyes fell as you asked meekly, “What I did to those men?”

“No,” Crowley shook his head, “I’d finished cleaning the bodies up by the time he got here. I managed to get most of the damage to the house repaired as well.”

“I didn’t want to hurt them, Crowley,” you whimpered as tears started to fall, “I said horrible things to them and acted like the demon they expected me to be but I didn’t want to do any of it.”

“I know you didn’t, love,” Crowley reached out and cupped the uninjured side of your face, “You would never hurt anyone if they hadn’t forced your hand. You’re not the monster here, Lia.”

“I didn’t even give them a chance to change their minds,” you sobbed, “I just rolled with the demon thing and attacked.”

“You were scared,” Crowley tried to reassure you, his thumb rubbing circles on your hand that he held in his, “None of this is your fault. They brought this on themselves.”

“I could have been better,” you argued tearfully.

“Maybe,” Crowley agreed, “but there’s nothing we can do now, love. We can only focus on getting you back on your feet. You’re pretty badly hurt. It’s honestly a minor miracle that you’re even alive.”

“My angel half must have spared me from being completely dissolved like Ligur was,” you shuddered recalling the puddle of goo that demon had been dissolved into when he and Hastur had come for Crowley.

“Thankfully,” Crowley gave you a small smile. It was clear to you he was trying so hard to hide just how scared he'd been, “I’m not sure what I would have done if I’d come home to find one of those men standing over a puddle of goo. I don’t even want to imagine it.”

“Oh, Crowley,” your heart broke when he turned away from you trying to keep himself from crying, “It’s alright. I’m okay.”

“I know you are, love,” Crowley gave you a weak smile when he faced you again, “I know. I just… I just don't know what I'd do if I'd lost you."

"Good thing you're still stuck with me then, eh?" you teased.

That earned a small chuckle from your demon, "I guess so."

"Crowley?" you asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Yes, love?" Crowley asked.

"Will you hold me?" your voice was hesitant, afraid that he'd be too scared to hurt you.

"I'm not so sure-"

"Please?" you asked again.

"One of these days I'm going to be able to tell you no," Crowley rolled his eyes as he carefully scooted into the bed and arranged you into his arms.

"I'm glad that isn't today," you sighed contentedly as you sank into his embrace, happy to be safe in your lover's arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Link to a kind of part 2 set during season 2: Traitorous Heart

#crowley x reader #crowley x oc #crowley x oc!reader #crowley #anthony j crowley #anthony janthony crowley #good omens #good omens fanfic #violence warning #Eiress: Of Heaven and Hell

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thebiggerbear · 2 months

Text

"What do you see in him?" "Everything you don't." - Jake Gray Prompt Response

Summary: When you go with Jake to visit his mom, you encounter a young woman who inexplicably sets you on edge and has you sticking that much closer to the boy who has your heart.

Pairing: Jake Gray x Female!Reader

A/N: This is part of the Soldier Boy/Beau Arlen/Dean Winchester/CJ Braxton/Alec McDowell/Jason Teague/Tom Hanniger/Russell Shaw/Boaz Priestly/Jake Gray/Jensen RPF prompt response project I’ve been working on the last month. This is the idea that popped into my head for it. It's my first time posting for this character so I'm a little nervous. Hope it turned out okay.

All unbeta'd.

Warnings: angst; mild smut; a smidgen of horror (kind of)

Word Count: 6894

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel; @hobby27; @impala67rollingthroughtown

Jake Gray Taglist: @call-me-mrs-winchester; @solacedthistest; @deansimpala; @foxyjwls007; @onlyangel-444

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx; @lyarr24; @bts24; @deans-spinster-witch; @rebel-paladin; @nancymcl; @c1gs-coffee; @peachhiz; @kickingitwithkirk

You smiled as you watched Jake talking with his mother a little bit away from where you stood. You had offered to go get drinks from the vending machine to give them some time alone to catch up. Jake’s birthday had just passed and you knew it had been a bit of a rough one for him on the homefront. He and his dad didn’t really get along or have too much to talk about when they occasionally did, though Jake tried his hardest to make it work.

Out of the corner of your eye, someone came to a stop next to you. You could see it was one of the nurses, a young woman, staring in the same direction you were.

After a moment, you heard her ask, “What do you see in him?”

Your head snapped towards her and you could see the nurse was younger than you’d initially thought, perhaps only a year or two older than you. “Excuse me?”

She turned to look at you and you immediately felt an icy chill run down your spine. She was beautiful but her hazel eyes…there was something about those eyes and the way they were intent on you that made you feel as if she were a predator assessing her prey. Even the small disarming smile she gave you was anything but. “Him.” She gestured towards Jake with an inclination of her head. You felt frozen to the spot. “Your boyfriend, I take it?”

You couldn’t help but nod, still not sure what to make of why you were suddenly consumed with something that felt an awful lot like fear. Was this woman a serial killer perhaps? Didn’t people say that if your instincts felt off about someone, if they were screaming at you like yours were, to get away from the person as fast as possible?

“So, what do you see in him?” She asked again.

You worriedly glanced in Jake’s direction. You watched as he laughed at something his mom said and rubbed her arm.

“Well?” The woman demanded impatiently.

Any other person you might have walked away from or politely told them that it wasn’t their business, but you didn’t feel you could do either. So instead, you did exactly what you’d been raised to do, from imaginary monsters in your closet to school bullies — never show the fear you were feeling. You turned to look her dead in the eyes no matter how uncomfortable it made you and lifted your chin. “Everything you don’t.”

Her eyes flickered in Jake’s direction but you didn’t look away from her. After a moment, her gaze returned to you and roamed over you in a final assessment as she slowly nodded. “Pity.” And with that, she finally walked away.

But instead of the air feeling lighter without her in it, the dread you felt only increased. Something told you that you and Jake were on her radar now and that was not a good place to be. The logical part of your brain thought it was ridiculous to feel that way but you had learned to always listen to your instincts. So you settled for a healthy dose of caution, mentally said a small prayer, and hightailed it back to Jake and his mom. You hadn’t wanted to interrupt their time together but you also didn’t feel it was safe to be out here on your own, even though you were just a few feet away in a semi-crowded courtyard.

Jake warmly smiled up at you as you approached. “Hey.”

You returned his smile though you knew yours was strained. “Hey.” You handed him his soda and turned to greet his mom as you sat down next to him. “Hi, Kathy. How are you?”

“Oh, you know. Still dancing.”

You chuckled and Jake shook his head. “She’s quite the comedian today, isn’t she?”

“She is.” You forced your smile wider for their sakes.

His brows furrowed as he studied you; he knew something was wrong. “Hey, you okay?” He asked quietly after leaning in a bit.

You nodded and opened your soda to find something to do. Despite the interaction with the nosy woman shaking you up, it amazed you that this cold dread continued to plague you. You wondered if you should tell Jake about the strange encounter; she had been wearing a nurse’s uniform after all. Should both of you really leave Kathy here in her care? Anyone here really?

Jake wasn’t buying your response but he let it go for now, opting to throw an arm around your shoulders instead and pull you into him, kissing the side of your head. You nearly sighed in relief when he settled you against him. The bad feeling never really went away but you felt slightly better having him hold you, like as long as he had you in his hold you both would be safe. Despite the oddity of the interaction you’d had just moments before, you had meant what you said to the woman.

You loved Jake and you knew he loved you. It had taken you both a while to get here, what with the whole Dakota thing and your parents not being a fan of his father. They thought Jake was nice enough and they even felt badly for him when they discovered how strained his relationship with Paul really was. That had resulted in them extending several invitations to the younger Gray for family dinners throughout the years and even your dad attempting to bond with Jake more once you two began dating.

Your friends weren’t crazy about him, though. They’d seen him partying a few times with Conrad and Dakota back in high school and sadly, they had already formed their own opinions of him that weren’t likely to change anytime soon. They didn’t believe he cared about you as much as you cared about him, that you were only a convenient placeholder for him until he found what he was really looking for — though what that could be they had no idea when you questioned them on it. They just didn’t trust him and they were convinced he and Dakota still had something going on when you weren’t around. You knew there wasn’t and that Jake would never do that to you or use you as they claimed — not you. You also knew he wasn’t bored with you as one friend of yours, Janine, had insisted. She had even told you that you were too much of a good girl for him, being a reverend’s daughter and all. Needless to say, you and Janine hadn’t spoken in a while; her assertion had hurt more than anything else your friends had thrown at you from the minute you told them that you and Jake were together. So even if the nurse hadn’t freaked you out just before, you still would’ve given her that same answer. You were used to defending Jake and your relationship with him.

You saw the good in him, how hard he tried to be what his parents wanted him to be, to live up to their vision of the future for him. He was smart — you couldn’t even begin to count the amount of times he had worked on your parents’ home computer without complaint. He had incredible patience, fielding any and all questions your dad threw his way the night he picked you up for your first official date though the man had known him for years. He respected all of the rules you two had been given, your curfew (despite your being a full-fledged college student), and your mom and dad in general. He was kind, generous to a fault, and he was good to you. He never pushed for more than you were ready for and he was always there for you.

Kathy smiled as she studied the two of you. “You two are cute together.”

You returned her smile; this time it was a genuine one.

Jake chuckled and kissed your head one more time. “Yeah, yeah,” he joked, taking your hand and intertwining your fingers as he turned to look at his mother. “Speaking of cute, the picture you sent me yesterday was a good one.”

You tried your best to focus on the conversation between mother and son but in your peripherals, you could see the nurse again. She was there on the edge of your vision, watching, waiting — waiting for what though you couldn’t be sure. You wrapped your arms around Jake’s torso and hugged him to you, laying your head on his shoulder. He grinned down at you and pressed his lips to your forehead, wrapping his arm around you tighter and pulling you closer, before resuming talking to his mom. As you watched Kathy, who gave you a kind smile before looking back to her son, you felt guilt begin to swallow you up inside. How could you leave here without telling Jake what you’d felt? When there was a break in the conversation, you compulsively swallowed and you were about to murmur to Jake that you needed to talk to him privately for a moment when he called out to someone in the distance. “Excuse me, Nurse! Can we get a blanke—”

When he stopped, you glanced up at him, seeing an altogether different smile on his face — one you had never seen before in all of the time you’d known him. Your eyes flickered in the direction he was looking and not only did your heart drop to your feet, but that cold dread was back in full force. It was the nurse from before and her smile matched his. She approached and your stomach clenched. Jake removed his arm from around you and you attempted to grab onto him tighter in your inexplicable fear but he gently broke out of your hold and leaned forward eagerly. “It’s you.” You worriedly glanced back and forth between them; they knew one another.

The woman smiled wider as she got closer. “It’s me.”

Your jaw practically dropped as Jake seemed to forget all about you and his mom while he spoke to the nurse whose name turned out to be Marisol. They had met before at Jake’s job and you could clearly see a spark between them that cracked your heart inside your chest. This time, Kathy gave you a sad and knowing smile; as well as you knew Jake, she knew her son better than anyone.

“Jake?” You choked out in a whisper.

His head snapped back in your direction, his beaming smile dropping when he saw the tears building in your eyes. It was as if your Jake had suddenly returned. He immediately cupped your cheeks, his brows furrowing. “Hey,” he murmured. “What’s wrong?”

Before you could answer, Marisol added, “I’ll just go get that blanket for you.” Jake looked up at her, nodding, before turning back to you. The nurse patted Kathy’s shoulder as she passed, sending you a wicked smirk that neither mother nor son saw. It was one you never wished to see again, especially when the icy dread traveled down your spine once more.

When she was gone, you found Jake watching your expression, concerned. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“You know her?”

His lips parted in surprise, obviously not having expected you to ask that question, and you didn’t miss it when he pulled back from you. You now felt cold from where his touch had been moments before. “Uh, yeah. She brought her laptop into the shop. There was a piece of wax stuck inside near the motherboard.”

Your eyes widened slightly when you heard the wax mention but Jake mistook your reaction for something else and he immediately took your hand in his, giving you a reassuring smile. “You know you’re my girl, right?”

You noticed Kathy watching you two closely out of the corner of your eye and you forced a smile onto your face. “Right.”

Jake’s grin grew and he wrapped his arm back around you and pulled you into him, rubbing your back as he continued his conversation with his mother. You tensed against him when Marisol returned with the promised blanket and a warm “Enjoy the rest of your visit” to Jake. He must have felt your reaction because he politely thanked her and held onto you tighter, waiting for her to leave before he kissed your forehead and let you go to spread the blanket over his mom. Over her son’s head, Kathy gave you a reassuring smile of her own — right, you had nothing to worry about. Jake loved you; you were the one he had asked to accompany him to see his mother who meant the world to him. Not Dakota, not any other girl, and not even this Marisol, despite their meeting outside of here and the obvious chemistry between them.

But when you felt compelled to look across the courtyard and you saw Marisol’s wicked smirk from earlier still pointed in your direction from over her shoulder, you suddenly realized that Jake’s loving you wasn’t what you were worried about. His obviously warm reception of her wasn’t the threat you felt. Almost as if she knew what you were thinking, Marisol’s smirk grew when her eyes briefly dropped to Jake leaned down next to you, still covering his mom to keep her warm. She stayed focused on him for a moment, her features reflecting something that looked a lot like determination, before she set her gaze forward and continued on her trek away from you all.

You placed a hand on Jake’s shoulder, causing him to shoot you a quick smile before focusing back on his mom. You said a silent prayer, asking for divine protection for Kathy, Paul, everyone here, you and your family, and of course, the boy underneath your touch — the boy who had always held your heart. No, Jake’s turning from you was the least of your worries, because that grin of Marisol’s had been accompanied by a whisper deep within you: Evil. You weren’t sure why you had that thought, why you were so certain it wasn’t an irrational one that could be rooted in jealousy or insecurity, but you knew enough by now to listen to what your instincts were telling you.

So when Jake sat back up and informed his mom that he unfortunately had to leave for work, you quickly said goodbye to Kathy, stooping down to give her a hug and kiss on the cheek, and eagerly followed Jake out of the courtyard. You kept your hand in his, holding onto him, while you scanned the path in front of you. Thankfully, neither of you encountered Marisol again and you were only able to breathe more freely once Jake’s Jeep was back on the road, headed far away from that place.

You kept Jake’s hand in your lap as you stared out the passenger window at the passing scenery. You fully intended on talking to your father about this experience and asking for his guidance. You just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something dangerous about that woman, almost in a spiritual sense, and that she posed a serious risk to Jake and even to you.

You briefly remembered his reaction to the woman, how he had willfully entered the bubble between them and forgot about everyone else. You forced the quickly forming lump down your throat. And to think, you had thought Dakota would be the one to come between you back in the day.

“Hey.”

Jake’s voice jarred you from your thoughts and you realized he had pulled over on the side of a quiet back road. You had been so focused on wondering what could be done to protect Jake, to keep him from Marisol, and what you could even say that wouldn’t have you sounding like you were crazy or jealous, that you hadn’t even noticed the car had come to a stop.

Your boyfriend’s brows furrowed as he studied you. “You sure you’re okay?”

You attempted to give him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Because you haven’t said one word since we left.”

The concern you saw in his green eyes had you wanting to tell him everything. You always had been able to, ever since you were kids. Ever since you had decided in all of your five year old wisdom that he was going to be your best friend when you saw him sitting alone on the kindergarten playground and watching the other children play. But you had seen the delighted smile he had given Marisol, the way he had carefully pulled away from you and centered all of his attention on her despite your presence and Kathy’s…you weren’t so sure he would believe you.

“I guess I’m just a little more tired than I thought.”

After seeing Jake the night before for a birthday dinner with your family, you knew Conrad and Dakota were itching to get him to themselves to properly celebrate his 21st, so you kissed him, told him to be careful while also having fun, and sent him on his way. You had a paper for your Behavioral Psych class to finish which would mean a late night for you, and you weren’t much of a partyer but you wanted him to enjoy himself. He had told you quietly before the food had been served about his dad’s somewhat indifferent attempt to acknowledge the day. You had seen how much it still bothered him, even when you all sang “Happy Birthday” to him and cheered when he blew out the candles on the cake you and your mother had made. Afterwards, when he was saying goodbye on your front porch, you had hugged him and whispered in his ear, “I know it’s your birthday but I’m grateful every day that you were born. I love you, Jake.” He had tightened his arms around you and buried his head into your shoulder for a moment before lifting up to tenderly frame your face with hands and kiss you deeply.

So, you leaned into the tired claim as a plausible explanation for your keeping quiet…for now.

Jake obviously wasn’t buying it. He undid his seat belt and turned in his seat to face you, cupping your chin and staring into your eyes. “You know how much you mean to me, Y/N, don’t you?”

Your smile grew a little and you nodded.

His gaze continued searching yours for a few extra heartbeats before he leaned in to kiss you. As his lips moved with yours, you felt his other hand suddenly on your bare thigh, beginning to slowly inch upwards underneath the material of your dress. His thumb brushed against your inner thigh, making you gasp into his mouth as fire quickly traveled throughout the lower half of your body. You marveled that a single touch from him in that particular area could set you aflame so quickly. It wasn’t that you hadn’t made out before — with him and two others — and done some light petting here and there, but you usually stopped short of allowing anyone to touch you there. Which is also probably why Jake froze for a moment at your reaction and when you didn’t immediately pull away, he tilted his head and kissed you more fervently, slipping his tongue past your lips. His hand quickly slid upwards and his fingertips brushed against your panties, eliciting a tiny moan from you.

Before you knew it, your seatbelt was undone and he had you in his lap, moving the material of your dress out of the way to push you down onto a quickly forming bulge in his jeans. It was something you had felt before but not right up against you like this. You broke the kiss, gasping in shock at the feeling, and stared into his eyes that were a shade darker than a mere minute ago. He watched you back as you both gulped for air, neither of you moving and waiting to see what the other one would do.

He gently moved your hair away from your face and you could see the adoration in his gaze that he had always held for you, though it seemed to be bordered by something you had recently come to know as lust. You could only wonder what he was seeing in your own gaze right that second.

“This okay?” He asked quietly, checking in with you.

You slowly nodded. Normally, by now, you would be pulling back with the intention of cooling you both down before you went too far. However, any sensical thinking on your part had gone straight out the window — you just wanted.

He gave you a smile and then his hands traveled down to your hips, applying pressure and pushing your lower half closer to his before easing up. He repeated the motion a few times, causing the breath to catch in your chest. Oh, that was very pleasant. You moaned when he did it again and then launched yourself at him, kissing him passionately and your hands gripping at his hair. You began moving your hips yourself without any assistance from him, desperate to pursue the feeling he had started within you, and he plundered your mouth mercilessly. When he let out a deep groan, you increased the speed of your rhythm and pulled away from him to gasp when you felt his body begin to move to meet yours. He leaned forward and latched his lips onto your neck, in that one spot that was always the most sensitive, and you hummed your approval.

The car was slightly rocking around you and Jake’s mouth had trailed down to the neckline of your dress. Before he could pull the material down to expose your cleavage, you grabbed at his hair and pulled him back. That’s not what you wanted right now; what you wanted was to keep this feeling going. You lowered your hands and ripped his shirt open, sending buttons flying everywhere and exposing the t-shirt underneath.

He grinned up at you, chuckling. “So much for that shirt.”

You returned the smile before grabbing him and kissing him again, moaning into his mouth as you rocked back and forth on him. He started unbuttoning your dress but you immediately pulled away to peel it off of you and toss it aside, leaving you in your slip. He watched you intently and immediately began placing kisses on every inch of exposed skin he could reach, his fingers greedily pulling the straps down your shoulders along with your bra straps. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip as you felt his warm breath skate across your chest in between kisses. Once he reached your collarbone and moved his way back up to your neck, you hummed in appreciation and pressed a tender kiss to the side of his head.

“God, I love you, Jake,” you breathily moaned. “So much.”

Jake suddenly pulled back, grasped your face, and rewarded you with another deep kiss. He yanked up your slip as high as it would go without tearing and then gripped your hips, moving you more expertly against him. You gasped and grabbed at him, burying your face into his neck as he panted and moaned against your shoulder. You felt a foreign feeling rising within you, one that you had only ever had in dreams before where you and Jake were in a bed and there were far less clothes involved. The lower region of your body began to have its own pulse at the same time, throbbing more intensely with every meeting of your hips. And now all of these feelings were about to wash over you; you felt as if you were on the edge of something — something massive. This was the farthest you and Jake had ever gone; this was the farthest you had ever gone with anyone. Jake raced you both to that precipice, his sounds echoing in your ear only continuing to escalate that feeling within you.

Just as you were about to give into that sensation, just as you were about to fall over that edge, Jake pulled back, breathing heavily and staring intently into your eyes. You cupped his cheeks and placed your forehead against his, knowing exactly what he needed to hear at that moment even if he didn’t. “I love you,” you moaned. “And I will never leave you.” Had you been thinking in that second, you might have thought that was an odd statement to make. Not that you hadn’t told him these things in one form or another and you deeply meant the sentiments but why now? Why was that what he needed to hear from you right then? And as well as you knew him, how did you just know the exact words to say that he had subconsciously been looking for from you?

The lack of a rational answer ceased to matter when he immediately tensed and gasped, pushing himself up against you one final time by lifting his hips slightly out of his seat and letting out a loud grunt. Watching him in fascination and feeling something warm and slightly damp through the thin layer of your panties that had nothing to do with your own body finally pushed you off of that cliff. You tensed as well and before you could close your eyes, Jake’s hands were on your face and he watched you with rapt attention, never letting you look away from him once as his chest heaved in and out rapidly. The cry you let out might have embarrassed you in any other situation but the body-wide explosion you were currently experiencing didn’t make room for you to be worried about such a trivial thing. Especially when Jake graced you with an adoring smile and tenderly moved your hair away from your face, staring at you as if you were everything to him in that moment.

Once the fireworks stopped, you collapsed against him, breathing heavily, your body feeling completely boneless. You were even trembling slightly. So, that was what an orgasm felt like. You could see what the big deal was, why people enjoyed chasing the feeling, even why some risked everything to reach that height only to fall off of it repeatedly. Your body tingled, from your scalp to your lower extremities, and chills ran through you, prompting you to cozy up to him a little more.

Jake tightened his arms around you and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. After a moment, he tenderly rubbed your back with both hands and gently nuzzled you. “Are you okay?”

“Better than okay,” you murmured.

A happy smile blossomed on his lips. “That was amazing.”

You gave him a tired one in return. “It was. Though it’s very…damp.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled and kissed your nose, pulling you more into him and sighing contentedly into your neck. You closed your eyes and reveled in the feeling of being this close to him. You carded your fingers through the back of his hair in a tender and soothing gesture.

You stayed like that for however long until you remembered you would have to let him go so he could continue driving to drop you off before work. “Are you still coming to movie night after your shift?” You murmured.

“Depends. Are you going to fuck me for real this time? Or do I need to go to Marisol for that?”

Your eyes snapped open in shock. You sat back up to look at him, wondering where that had come from and beyond hurt, when your heart stopped inside your chest. In Jake’s place was a horrible looking beast with horns, pointed teeth in a shark-like smile, and dark eyes — eyes that were sharply focused on you. Your blood froze when a horrifying and monstrous hand reached for you, the smile widening. You gasped loudly in terror and immediately moved away, your back hitting the steering wheel while a scream was stuck in your throat. The hand was inches away from your face when it suddenly dropped and covered your bare knee, shaking it. You flinched from the contact, your eyes clenching shut, as you tried to get the scream out, to get away from whatever this horror was.

“Hey,” Jake’s voice gently called.

You jumped at hearing him in such close proximity and your eyes suddenly opened. Jake had his hand on your knee and he was giving you a small smile. You immediately realized that you were back in the passenger seat, fully clothed, and so was he, buttons and all. You worriedly glanced around, noting that you were parked in front of your house, your dad was pretending to water the lawn, and there was no horrifying beast in sight. You sat up fully and quickly scanned the back of the car and around you both, your wide eyes coming to a stop on Jake.

His brows knitted together in concern as he watched you. “Bad dream?”

“Dream?” You whispered.

His smile turned into a reassuring one. “You fell asleep on me.”

You cautiously checked your peripherals but still no horns, no razor-sharp teeth, and no terrifying dark eyes. Oh God, those eyes. You shuddered at the memory of that penetrating gaze, as if it could see into your soul, wanting to gleefully rip apart whatever it found.

“Yeah. Right after we left. I knew you didn’t get much sleep last night so I didn’t want to wake you until we got here.” Jake’s smile grew as he squeezed your knee.

“S-So, we never pulled over?”

Confusion blanketed his expression before he chuckled. “No. Why? Did you dream that?”

You still felt disoriented, almost in disbelief that this was the reality you found yourself in. That dream had felt very real; you still felt the evidence of it down below. One discreet glance at Jake’s lower half, though, was the final evidence that it had indeed been a dream. You held a hand up to your forehead, subconsciously checking for any sign of injury there or a feeling of heat against your skin, still uncertain why your dream had such a terrifying ending, and closed your eyes when you found neither. “Um, yeah, I guess,” you mumbled.

Jake chuckled again and you felt him place a kiss to your left temple. “You’re cute when you first wake up, you know that?” He then dropped his lips to your ear. “Next time, I will definitely pull over and make sure you stay awake.”

Normally, his flirty tone laced with implication would make your cheeks burn a little and prompt you to tease him back, but not this time. You were still too disturbed by your dream for any light-hearted banter. Why had you dreamed about that monster? Where did it even come from?

Jake lifted his head and glanced out your window. “Your dad’s been watering the same section of the lawn for the last five minutes. I guess I’d better get going.”

You followed his gaze and noted the rigid posture of your father, looking in your direction out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah,” you agreed with a sad sigh.

“Hey.” Jake cupped your chin and forced you to meet his assessing gaze. “Are you really okay?”

You wanted to tell him about what you had seen, what you’d felt, but for some reason, you felt as if you couldn’t. That bothered you; you usually told Jake everything, but it would make you sound crazy. So instead, you forced your mouth into a reassuring smile. “Yeah. Just a…bad dream like you said.”

He studied you for a moment, not really seeming as if he believed you, but he appeared to decide not to press further. He nodded and leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a brief but tender kiss before letting you go and moving back into his seat. “Thanks for coming with me today. My mom always enjoys seeing you.”

You reached for the door handle. “I always enjoy seeing her, too.”

A hint of an affectionate smile formed on his face and he squeezed your shoulder. “I’ll see you around 8 for movie night.”

You froze at the familiar words that prompted your nightmare to come back to you. You involuntarily shuddered once more and an immediate inexplicable fear overwhelmed you. For some sudden unknown reason, you didn’t want Jake out of your sight. You wanted him with you, in your house, surrounded by your family. Your instincts were gnawing at you once more.

You took his hand in yours and intertwined your fingers. “Jake.”

His brows furrowed once more, his gaze flickering from your joined hands to you.

“Do you think you can call in sick and stay here with me? Just this once?”

His eyes widened slightly in surprise. You never asked him to miss work or play hooky when it came to his classes. Not once. Guilt fleeted across his expression, making you the suddenly confused one, until you saw the reassuring smile from earlier make a reappearance. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’ll stay.”

You responded with your own smile, feeling relief blooming in your chest, and released his hand to tenderly stroke his cheek. “Thank you,” you murmured.

He turned to press a kiss to your palm and shot you his adorable yet devilish grin that made your heart leap inside your chest, right before he climbed out of the car. You did the same and he met you near the hood of his Jeep, wrapping an arm around you and kissing the side of your head.

“Hey, you two,” your dad loudly greeted, all pretense of being fascinated with the grass over. “You’re just in time. Joan wants to order sushi for movie night but I’ve been trying to talk her into getting pizza instead.” You knew your mother was trying to get him to eat healthier after his latest doctor visit. It was a constant battle since your dad was a creature of habit, but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t keep trying, though. “You both can help me convince her.” He adjusted his glasses, turned the sprayer off, and began moving to coil up the water hose.

“Okay,” you called, still distracted.

Jake took note of your easy agreement, something that was uncharacteristic of you since you had been trying to provide support to your mom in her mission to keep unhealthy food from making its way into the house on a daily basis. He peered down at your face, really studying you. “Hey, are you really okay?”

You could see the worry staring back at you and you framed his face with your hands. “I’m okay,” you reassured him. “Just…stay with me tonight…okay?”

He nodded, his green eyes searching yours, uncertainty mixing with concern lining his expression. After a moment, he murmured, “You know I love you, right?”

You couldn’t help the smile that fought its way onto your face in response. “I know and I love you, too,” you whispered in reassurance before moving him to meet you in a sweet kiss. Something else that had Jake holding you a little closer and burying his fingers into your back as if he was afraid to let go of you; you never kissed Jake in front of your parents — not like this.

Your dad’s purposeful loud clearing of his throat following your action served as a reminder why. “The pizza?” From his annoyed tone, you knew that the food was the last thing on his mind.

Truthfully, it was the furthest thing from yours and Jake’s as well. Neither of you pulled apart, your lips still moving together, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you as his snaked around your waist to do the same. Only when your dad let out an extremely loud and clearly forced cough did you both move back a couple of millimeters, but you still remained within a hair’s breadth of each other, unable to stop smiling.

“Pizza?” You quietly asked.

“Pizza sounds good.” He affectionately bumped your nose with his, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Great,” your dad mumbled somewhere in the distance. You were still stuck in your bubble with Jake, feeling much better and lighter than you had all afternoon, and your disturbing nightmare quickly became a distant memory the longer you stared into that loving green gaze of his. The only remnants left that your brain chose to focus on were his touches, his kisses, the feelings he enticed from your body, and just Jake.

“Now that it’s settled, let’s go in and place the order,” your dad continued. “Jake,” he barked out when your boyfriend’s lips pressed against yours once more.

Jake’s head snapped up in his direction but he didn’t move away from you. “Yes, sir?”

“The pizza?”

Jake quickly cleared his throat, trying to smother the grin that wanted to remain on his face. “Right. Uh, I’m good with anything you guys choose.”

“Good to know.” You could hear the snark in your father’s voice that normally would have made you frown over at him, but right now you didn’t want to focus on anything that was outside of Jake’s embrace.

Jake’s expression suddenly lightened with realization and he gave your father his most charming smile. “If you want to call in the order, Y/N and I can go pick it up.” Usually, you would have been more than game for that idea, but something deep down inside of you immediately protested. Not because you were afraid of what might happen between you and Jake, but because of something else. An all-too familiar dread growing in the pit of your stomach and you had the sudden urge to grab Jake and hurry inside. It coincided with the urge you’d had moments ago to get him to stay with you.

Your dad snorted. “Nice try. We’ll have it delivered. Now, come on. Joan’s probably hiding the pizza place menu as we speak.” He waved a hand, indicating you should be following him.

Jake smirked down at you, you having made sure to keep the worry from your face, and gave a half-hearted shrug. “I tried.”

You returned his smirk and since your dad had his back to you, you whispered, “The movie he picked for tonight is Pearl Harbor. Mom will probably beg off and he’ll be asleep in no time. Then you and I can sneak upstairs for a little while.” His eyes lit up as you knew they would and you quickly lifted up, pecked his lips, and grabbed his hand to lead him up to the house. As you both followed your father, Jake’s gaze never left you and his grin never faltered. And you were finally able to sigh in relief once you both made it across the threshold and Safe whispered through you, right before Jake squeezed your hand and snuck a kiss to your cheek before following your impatient father into the kitchen. You watched him go, your heart full and your spirit light once more. Only when you turned to close the door behind you did your smile freeze before dropping completely.

There stood Marisol, right next to Jake’s Jeep parked at the curb, a jacket covering her nursing scrubs. That same smirk from earlier was plastered on her face and those hazel eyes mocked you, almost as if whatever feelings of love and overall goodness you’d just experienced was purely temporary. Then, within the blink of an eye, she was gone. You looked every which way for her, but she was nowhere to be found. Before worry could continue to consume you, you hurriedly shut the door, hit the lock, and encased yourself in your arms. Had Marisol followed you and Jake here? Or was her image just something your mind would now start hallucinating anytime you felt the slightest bit of fear? In relation to Jake?

Unsure of the answer, when your dad and mom started harmlessly bickering in the kitchen and the former called for you, you dropped your arms and pasted a smile on your face before walking in to join them. And when Jake’s hand absent-mindedly trailed along your arm during the movie later, you snuggled further into his side, making him smile and kiss your forehead while your father frowned at you in disapproval from his recliner. You didn’t care, though; you held onto Jake tightly, afraid that if you loosened your grip at any moment and let your guard down, he’d slip right through your fingers and vanish. And Jake, the boy who you had given your heart to so long ago, would be gone to you forever. When an unbidden tear rolled down your cheek at the thought, you didn’t bother wiping it away, only pressed a fiercely protective kiss to where Jake’s heart beat steadily underneath your ear, making him quietly hum in approval and place his lips to your forehead. The action set free another tear but you refused to wipe it away as you stared blankly at the TV screen; you silently vowed you would do whatever it took to keep the love of your life safely out of Marisol’s grasp.

Please let me know if you would like to tagged for this character.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

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mlovesstories · 6 years

Text

Bear Bitesize 7.5

Release 7/16 9pm

Bitesize 7.5 prompted from @cherryblossom1997! Thanks, so cute (and hilarious!)!

cherryblossom1997 said:

Omg I have the cutest idea. For Bear Bitesize 7, you could do a part 2 where Dean and the reader go to the store trying to figure out what to get, but like the reader gets more embarrassed about it with Dean. Like if you've seen Ten Inch Hero, there's a scene where Priestly (Jensen) has to buy tampons and it's such a funny scene! Just random thoughts in my head though 😁

YN age 12

Dean age 35

Warnings: awkard period talk, nothing gross

(If you find the reference(s) to Ten Inch Hero, comment below!)

AN- Thanks for the suggestion! This was really funny. :D

Other Bitesizes here.

Masterlisit of Masterlists here.

If you want to be tagged in any of my work, tell me here!

“Come on, let’s go, bear.”

“Dean-“ YN started.

“It’s weird, I know. But we have to do this. Get in the car.” He hated the fact that she didn't have a female role model close by to help her with this. He felt awkward, but he also knew that it was more difficult for her.

————-

“Jody?” Dean was glad his friend picked up. “YN and I have some questions for you.” As they sat in Baby, he and YN talked on speaker phone with Jody about what ‘supplies’ to get. When it became more personal, Dean gave YN the phone and let her walk ahead of him into the store.

While Jody was talking, YN looked at all the options.

There are so many.

When Dean saw that she was overwhelmed, he tried to help.

“What about these?” He used his normal, commanding, deep voice.

“Shh! Shut up, Dean! I’m listening to Jody!” After she and Jody discussed YN’s preferences, YN went to that section and scrambled to find something that would work.

“Don’t worry, YN. This stuff takes time. You know what kind you want, now find a few from that kind. You’ll have to experiment. Everyone does, that’s how this works. You’ll thank yourself later.”

“Okay, Jody. Thanks,” YN hung up and gave the phone back to Dean.

“So tampons or pads, my little grasshopper?” He raised a brow with sincerity.

“Why IN THE WORLD are you so loud?! This is already hard! Don’t be embarrassing!”

He blew her off.

“These ones,” she took some slender regulars off the shelf. “And these, in case the first ones don’t work.”

“Slender regulars? Isn’t bigger better?” Dean tried to problem-solve.

“This is hard enough, knock it off! Here, carry this.” YN handed him a box.

“Uhhh…” he didn’t want to hold anything from that aisle. A very pretty woman walked by. “Well, hello,” he said under his breath as he hid the box behind his back.

“We’re leaving, renaissance man. Now.”

Forever Friends:

.@katymacsupernatural .@unicornblood4ever .@ellie-andthemachine .@fangirl-moment-x .@empirialwolf .@winchesters-favorite-girl .@super100012 .@waywardnewcomer .@percywinchester27 .@waywardsuns .@supernatural-jackles .@mcallmestiles .@mandyreese .@sdavid09 .@kingandrear .@bellero .@sleepylunarwolf

@rosie-winchester @iliketowrite02 @seality @blogsnowflakeme @jaycc7983 @luci-in-trenchcoats @cherryblossom1997 @because-you-never-know-when @lauren-novak @justsomerandomarchangel

#supernatural #bear bitesizes #mlovesstoriesseries #mlovesstories #dean winchester #dean winchester x sister

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teamfreewill-imagine · 7 years

Text

A Real Family

Summary: For the first eight years of your life, it’s just you and Jensen against the world. He had you at quite a young age, and you were very much a daddy’s girl, but you welcome Danneel into your family as you witness your father falling in love. Jensen’s Daughter!Reader, Jensen x Danneel Words: 2.2k Warnings: fluff Beta: @blacksiren

A/N: this was written for @winchesters-favorite-girl’s one year celebration! My prompt was “Is it supposed to look like that?”

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You were eight years old when your father fell in love with a pretty girl.

You’d known her for a couple of years before that, and you’d always really liked her.

You first met at a casual CW event that you had begged your father to take you along to.

“It said ‘casual’, Daddy,” you had reminded him, with all the sincerity a six and a half year old could muster, “That means you’re allowed’ta take me.”

“I think it just means I don’t have to wear a fancy suit, pumpkin,” he’d tried, but you shook your head defiantly, insisting he bring you with him.

Unsurprisingly, the little girl in the yellow sundress with white Chucks and cute braids drew a lot of attention in a room full of twenty-somethings.

You could remember seeing her approaching, looking at your father as if they knew each other but were no more than acquaintances; smiling sympathetically when she saw you holding tightly onto his hand.

Admittedly, it had been a bit intimidating being a young child surrounded by adults you’d only ever seen on TV before, so for the first half-hour you had been clinging to him like a vice.

“Jensen,” she had greeted, kissing his cheek as you realised was customary at these things, “And who’s this little one you’ve brought? You get put on babysitting duty?”

Your father had laughed, blushing slightly as he picked you up onto his hip even though you were really getting too big for that.

“Uh, no, this is my baby girl,” he explained as you wrapped an arm over his shoulders, your legs clinging to his waist. “Y/N, do you wanna say hi?”

You had blushed, a little embarrassed at being the topic of conversation.

“She’s a little shy,” your father had apologised, but she shook her head, focussing her full attention on you.

“Hi, Y/N,” she smiled warmly, and instantly you were put at ease by her soft tone and kind eyes. “My name’s Danneel, but you can call me Dee if you want?”

“Daddy’s friends call him Jay,” you had informed her, causing your father’s blush to deepen, “So you can, too.”

She’d told you she loved your shoes and you’d told her she was very pretty before Uncle Jared came and stole you away, keeping you entertained and showing you off to his friends.

You met Danneel a few times over the next couple of years, and each time her smile grew fonder.

She would comment on how much you’d grown and ask you about school. She’d really listen when you answered, checking up on how you did in your test even if it had been months since you’d mentioned it.

When your father told you that he was taking a role in a movie alongside her, you were ecstatic.

You loved being on set with them, and you especially loved when Danneel helped you convince the hair and makeup team to use the leftover temporary hair colour to make your hair bright, like your father’s character.

His face had been priceless when he saw you, your hair striped with bright green and a fake ring on your nose.

“Baby Priestly!” he’d laughed, his eyes glistening with mirth as he tapped your nose. “No facial piercings until you’re at least sixteen though, ‘kay?”

“‘Kay,” you’d agreed. “Dee says I look badass.”

His eyes met hers above your head, his amused smile melting into something softer, warmer.

You noticed it but didn’t bring it up until you were getting ready for bed that night.

“You should ask her out for coffee,” you had told him as he brushed through your hair in the bathroom after you’d washed all the colour out.

“Who?” he’d asked, pretending to be oblivious.

“Danneel,” you sighed. “Daddy, I’m not blind. You like her.”

“Of course I like her, we’re friends.”

Even at eight years old you knew that was a deflection.

“No you like like her,” you rolled your eyes. “And I like her too so you gotta ask her out.”

He’d huffed an amused laugh, sitting on the closed toilet lid so that you were looking down at him from the countertop.

“She doesn’t want to go out with me, pumpkin,” he had told you, and you frowned.

“Did you ask?”

“No- I-,” he’d laughed again, blushing a little. “What makes you think she’d be interested in getting coffee with me?”

You rolled your eyes again, hopping down from the counter and walking through to your bedroom.

“She asked if you had a girlfriend,” you had informed him, aware that she’d be embarrassed that you told him but needing him to realise that they were both on the same page, “Or if I had a mommy. So I said not yet and not anymore.”

His expression had faltered, it always did at the topic of your mother, but you just wrapped your arms around his waist, pushing your cheek against his stomach in a tight hug.

“I really like her, Daddy,” you’d murmured, “And I know you do, too.”

“Alright, baby,” he sighed, lifting you up and kissing your cheek before tossing you onto the bed, making you laugh. “Get some sleep, my little matchmaker.”

“M’kay,” you’d agreed, getting under the covers and smiling to yourself.

He had waited until filming was over to finally ask her out, and it came as no surprise to you that she said yes.

It was kinda weird, sharing your father’s attention for the first time since you were too young to remember, but you never resented it.

If anything, you loved having Danneel around.

The only snag in your relationship came just after they got married.

You were twelve years old and up until then you’d lived with your father wherever he was working.

Once they bought their Austin house together, you were expected to stay there with Danneel while your father was filming in Vancouver.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to stay with her, it was more the fact that you’d never been away from your father for more than a few days at a time.

It was no secret that you were a total daddy’s girl, but he insisted that this was best for you.

You could be enrolled in the local school and not have to be tutored on set, you could make more friends your own age, and you could bond better with Danneel.

After a few too many tears and a couple of totally unnecessary tantrums, you realised that your protests weren’t getting you anywhere and agreed to stay in Texas.

As it turned out, a strong female influence who didn’t take any of your father’s crap was exactly what you needed to grow into the young woman that you were today.

You were in the kitchen making yourself a snack when you heard your father arrive home.

He was later than usual, but you decided to wait up after he’d called to say that his flight had been delayed.

“Babe?” he whisper-called through the house. “Anyone up?”

“Kitchen,” you called back, licking peanut butter from the side of your thumb as you placed the lid back on the jar.

You could hear him locking up the house and leaving his bags by the door before he finally made his way through to you.

“Welcome home,” you smiled as he walked over, wrapping his arm around you.

“Thanks, pumpkin,” he murmured, bringing you close and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Where’s Dee?”

“Upstairs with the babies,” you told him, pulling back and grabbing one of the celery/peanut butter sticks you’d prepared.

You took a bite while putting the jar in the cupboard, turning back to face him to find him watching you curiously.

“What?” you asked, swallowing your bite. “Something on my face?”

“Your hair,” he murmured, motioning with his hand. “Is it supposed to look like that?”

You frowned, moving your hand to your head to figure out what he was talking about.

“Oh,” you laughed softly, remembering that you let JJ braid your hair before she went to bed. “You don’t like it?”

He smirked.

“I didn’t say that,” he told you, evading the question.

“You think it’s ugly,” you gasped, feigning offence.

“I think… Let’s just say, I’ve seen it done better,” he offered, and you took another bite of celery in mock-irritation.

“This kinda negativity is counterproductive to your daughter’s learning,” you told him, and he raised an eyebrow.

“You’re gonna be twenty soon,” he reminded you. “Plus, you did better braids than that when you were like, six.”

“Not me, you idiot,” you scoffed, taking another bite. “Your middle daughter. We’re teaching her.”

His entire demeanour changed from teasing to proud as he stole the other celery stick from the counter.

“JJ did that?” he asked, and you nodded. “Impressive.”

You laughed, wiping your hands on the front of your pants as your father devoured the other half of your late night snack.

“Just a second ago you thought it was bad,” you mentioned, and he shrugged.

“Just a second ago I thought your braiding skills had regressed by a decade and a half,” he reasoned, and you smiled, walking over to hug him properly.

“What’s this for?” he murmured, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“Just missed you,” you told him, taking a deep breath before pulling back.

He smiled fondly, cupping your cheek in a comforting palm.

“Missed you more.”

You smiled back at him, leaning into his touch.

“You guys are gonna give me a cavity.”

Danneel’s voice made you jump and you laughed softly as you turned to see her leaning against the doorframe, a fond smile pulling at her lips.

“I’m not kidding,” she continued, walking into the room. “That was the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

She kissed your cheek before carding a hand into your father’s short hair, pulling him into a soft, ‘welcome home’ kiss.

“Gross,” you teased, pulling away from them both and sitting up on the counter.

“What’s gross is that you’re putting your butt where we prepare our food,” your father sassed back, causing you to roll your eyes.

“I’m wearing jeans,” you reminded him. “I’ll disinfect the counter before we have to cook next.”

Danneel laughed, pecking your father’s lips once more before walking over to the fridge and retrieving three beers.

“The babies are all asleep so I say we go put on a movie until we can’t keep our eyes open anymore,” she suggested, and your father raised an eyebrow at the three bottles in her hands.

“Two for me?” he asked, and she shook her head, handing a bottle to him and another to you.

“One each,” she confirmed, and your father looked unconvinced.

“She’s nearly twenty,” Danneel reminded him, and he huffed.

“Which is still a year too young.”

She rolled her eyes, holding a hand out to you.

You hopped off the counter, letting her wrap her arm around your waist as you made your way through to the front room, your father trailing behind.

“Babe, don’t be a hypocrite,” Danneel told him, “You were drinking at her age.”

“You already had me at my age,” you added, and she nodded.

“If we let her drink small amounts in a safe environment then she’s less likely to go out and get wasted underage.”

“Alright, damn,” your father laughed slightly. “You guys are ganging up on me.”

You smiled, settling into the armchair and leaving them the couch.

“We’ve been ganging up on you since 2007,” Danneel laughed, and you nodded in agreement, twisting the cap off of your beer.

“You’re a bad influence,” your father teased, flopping down onto the couch and pulling Danneel down to curl up next to him as he grabbed the remote.

“Mom, don’t listen to him,” you told her when she feigned offence, clutching her hand over her heart like you had just minutes ago. “You’re the best influence.”

“Jeez, anyone would think you guys were related,” he joked fondly, and you nodded, biting your lip.

Your father raised an eyebrow at you, and you looked at Danneel waiting for her to nod slightly before continuing.

“We’ve been thinking, and-”

“This doesn’t sound promising,” he teased, and Danneel slapped his thigh in chastisement. “Sorry. Carry on, kiddo.”

“We think it’s about time that Dee adopted me, don’t you?” you asked your father, and his jaw went slack as he looked between the two of you.

“Really?” he asked, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“She’s just as much my mom as she is the twins’ and JJ’s,” you shrugged. “Why not? It’d finally make us a real family.”

“Hey, we’re a real family anyway,” Danneel reminded you and you nodded.

“Yeah, of course,” you agreed. “But, y’know. Officially.”

Your father was watching you carefully, his expression giving nothing away.

“So?” you prompted. “What do you think?”

You twirled one of your messy braids around your finger to give your hands something to do while you waited for his response.

Danneel looked across at you, her calm smile letting you know that, no matter what he said, she’d always be your mom.

“I’d… I’d like that, pumpkin,” he eventually murmured, smiling and resting his temple to the top of Danneel’s head as she leant on his shoulder. “I’d like that a lot.”

Please leave feedback! This was a totally new style for me so it’d be great to know what y’all think!

@raes-dream1and, @kittycat-cas, @starswirlblitz, @wicked-gen, @sunflowerbouqet, @un-amoosed-padalecki, @duckiburns, @ofloveandlonging, @niallandsebastianaremylife, @itsmyeffingstory, @xoxokokooxox, @ruined-by-destiel, @hillface89, @prideandprejudiceandbrendonurie, @fandomoniumflurry, @itsarandomsparkle, @fallencastiel, @riverdaddiess, @27bmm, @1amluke, @avengingthesupernatural, @pinkbunnies2001, @fandooomqueenforyou, @sgtbxckybxrnes, @yvngkinggchristyy, @padackles2010, @loveyourmockingbird, @danijimenezv, @blanca-stilinski-caffrey, @tiffanycaruso, @bradygabrielle-blog, @michelllewarren, @reachforthestarsgirl, @professionally-crazed, @unidentified-failing-object, @nippleemma, @plaid-lover-bay25, @kam731055

#jensen ackles #spn rpf #danneel ackles #supernatural #spn imagine #jensen's daughter!reader #daughter!reader #jensen x danneel #jensen x daughter!reader

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