#the way my brother is still my brother when I threaten to hunt him for sport when he eats my clearly labeled leftovers.

[patron-saint-of-lesbeans]

Thrilled to see how the tradcaths at the Catholic Club tonight are doing in spite of recent Pope Francis tradcath discourse.

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, childhood bestfriends to lovers, tlou'verse, jackson era, mild hurt/comfort

word count: 4.9k

summary: When your boyfriend is desperate to win back what he lost, he bets on you this time without your knowledge. And everyone knows you don't go back on your word when it comes to Joel Miller.

warnings: okay so technically not cheating because your boyfriend literally gambled you buuut if that's not your thing I totally get it, piv, dirty talk, choking, spitting, size kink, soft!joel & feral!joel, he likes hearing how big he is, affectionate whore calling™, a hint of analplay, oral (receiving and giving)

a/n: another joel fic inspired by p.orn, we love to see it

a special thank you to @nothoughtsjustmeds for the beta! 💕

Joel was never that into gambling. 

Back before everything had gone to shit, that had always been more Tommy’s forte than his own. Joel doesn’t remember the amount of times he’d had to bail his brother out, either by protecting him while putting himself in the middle or by giving him loans he’d never ever see again. Joel hadn’t minded. Tommy was his baby brother after all. As long as he was safe Joel was happy—annoyed, for sure, but happy. 

He was surprised when he learned that Jackson had a pretty heavy gambling scene and that Tommy wasn’t a part of it. He didn’t know why that was, because even on the nights where he had to go bail him out and bring him home all bloodied and bruised, Tommy just made the same mistakes. Not even Sarah’s worried expression, while she peered from between the wooden stair railing, deterred him from it. 

Guess it was different when your own kid was on the way. 

However, despite his lack of interest in gambling, he found himself betting away what little he had for someone else—someone he thought he would never see again. But honestly, he wasn’t half bad at it so he didn’t mind it that much. His only complaint was when he had to get messy hunting down those who didn’t pay up. 

One by one the men around the table folded, only leaving Joel and Liam. A huge stack of weaponry lies in the middle of the table, Liam’s eyes constantly flit between the stack and Joel. They stare at each other long and hard. Joel knows that he’s going to win. He usually did with these face-offs. 

Liam folds. 

A small smile tugs at the corner of Joel’s lips. There’s nothing better than to take what someone he absolutely detests wants. 

“Let’s go again,” Liam grunts, his forehead shining with sweat. 

Joel raises an eyebrow, “You don’t have anythin’ else to bet on.” 

“Come on now, Miller,” Liam leans back into his chair. “There must be something that you want.” 

Joel’s eyes bore into his long enough for the man to grow uncomfortable and nervous. Only then did he speak. 

“You still have that pretty girlfriend?” 

Someone Joel didn’t bother learning the name of pipes up from his right, “I thought we were only betting huntin’ supplies this time.” 

“Come on, let the man try to win his rifle back.” Joel grins. 

“Fuck you, Miller.” 

“Careful now,” he slowly places his elbows on the old table, his weight on it enough to let out a threatening creak. He cocks his head to the side, his smile small but still there. “My kindness wears thin.” 

Liam’s an addict. And of course, he says yes. 

“You fucking gambled me away?!” your voice is shaking, body trembling all over as you pace back and forth in front of the couch Liam was nestled on top of. At least he has the decency to look guilty. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Liam? I’m your girlfriend, not some kind of deer hide you can put on the table.” 

“Look I said I was sorry alright?” He stands up fast enough to make you flinch. He holds you by the shoulders, thumbs moving in a soothing manner. “Won’t happen again, I promise.” 

You scoff, “We both know that’s a lie.” You lift your chin up in defiance. “I won’t do it. I have free will. You can’t make me.” 

That makes Liam sweat. You can’t blame him, you’ve heard of Joel’s. . . outbursts. But honestly, that’s the least of your worries. You’re mostly confused as to why Joel asked for you specifically. You’re positive that he’d been avoiding you ever since he came into Jackson, only talking to you a handful of times. Why now? And why like this?

“Baby,” Liam whines, snapping you away from your thoughts. “You have to. He’s crazy, he’ll kill me.” 

“You should’ve thought of that before.” 

“Please. All you’d have to do is entertain him for the night, make him happy.” 

“So to be his plaything? Is that what you want?” 

“Maybe he’ll ask you to cook him dinner, hell if I know.” 

“Sure,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure he’ll just want something to eat.” 

You give him one more look before slipping away from his gentle hold. Your heartbeat is slow, hours spreading across every beat, making your chest feel heavy and lightheaded.

“Fine,” you cave, wrapping yourself with your shaking arms. “But after this, I’m done, Liam. I’m so tired of bailing you out.” 

“You can’t leave, where would you go?” 

The soft tone he used while begging you to spread your legs for Joel quickly turns into a tone with sharp, dagger-like edges. You don’t say anything. Don’t answer him or agree with him. You’re lost in a broken world. 

And now, amongst all the things you’ve been through, you have to see the pity in your childhood best friend’s eyes. 

You don’t want to be here. You don’t. It’s embarrassing. 

Your boyfriend is in the other room, brooding on his couch, examining his life choices. You’re not doing any better. Your robe loose over your shoulders, the chill of the bedroom settling over your skin. It’s especially embarrassing because it’s Joel for crying out loud. You’ve known each other since you were kids causing mischief all around the neighborhood. You still remember the time you fell and scraped your knee, how he kissed it better and placed a pink bandaid over it because it was your favorite color. 

Why the hell had he asked for you? To humiliate you? Well, he definitely succeeded. 

The door opens and you jolt. His presence is large in the room, making you shudder despite yourself. Your pulse quickens. You shouldn’t be afraid of him yet here you are, trembling like a newborn doe. He closes the door with a gentle click, the wood creaking and solidifying your fate. 

You haven’t known him for years. Even before the outbreak had torn the world apart. You had moved away two years prior and after everything went down you never expected to see him again. When he showed up in Jackson you barely recognized him. He looked rugged, more salt than pepper in his beard, his eyes drained of life. He had scars that ran deep and he had found a kid along the way. You were surprised but relieved to see he still had a big heart. 

You were ashamed the first time you two sat down after years. Everyone knew of Liam’s gambling problem, he couldn’t help it, and you knew that Joel knew. You hated the idea of him pitying you, of him seeing the world weighing down on you. You’ve heard from around that Joel also started to place bets. Nothing too big though, unlike your boyfriend who would bet on almost anything in the house. You knew those bets could turn out violent and people feared Joel. Even in a safe utopia like Jackson, the kind of man he’d become traveled from ear to ear, striking fear. And when someone that owed him money ended up with a bloody nose and broken jaw. . . no one dared to deny him of anything. 

And it seemed like you were no exception. 

Joel stands in front of you, his sleeves pulled up to his elbows, exposing sinewy muscle. He stands close. Close enough that you feel his breath on your lips. Your eyelids flutter before you avert them, tears stinging the corners. 

You drop the robe, the old fabric pooling at your ankles. You’re left in a decent enough-looking bra and somewhat matching underwear. 

“Not interested,” Your entire body goes taut, eyes wide. You hear the blood rush in your ears. Joel moves past you and takes a seat on the bed, crossing his arms over the expanse of his broad chest. You stare at him and a thick knot forms in your throat. He gives you a brief look before explaining. “I only wanted to teach your boyfriend a lesson. He’s reckless. One of these days he’s gonna be in real debt to me and, darlin’, I don’t want you gettin’ caught in the middle.” 

Your heart drops. You don’t know what you’ve been expecting but it certainly isn’t this. Tears blurring your vision, you quickly bend over and scoop up your robe, throwing it over your shoulders. Somewhere along memory lane, you forgot to remind yourself that Joel was your first; first crush, first love, first kiss, first time. But it just hadn’t worked out. You had stayed close friends until you moved away, he had Sarah, you had a promising career. You were planning on getting back to him. It just never came to be. Liam didn’t know you knew Joel, only Tommy knew about the connection you two had, mainly because he was there. 

And now you had Liam—Boyfriend who calls you names because he hates everything, Liam. Shitty boyfriend, Liam. Boyfriend who put you up as a prize, Liam. 

It’s just too much. All of it. Your heart can’t handle how unfair it all is. The pity Joel shows you, the way Liam treats you. He loves you, you know that much, but he just doesn’t care enough to treat you right or tend to you when he’s so broken himself. He doesn’t understand that you would take care of him just as much. 

And now you’re just a shell. A shell of your former self. 

The first salty tear slips from your lashes, it’s followed by another and then another. 

You manage to reach the end of the bed on shaky legs, collapsing, you cover your face, heaving silently into your palms. You don’t want Liam to hear you cry, deep down you want him to think Joel is fucking you this very instant. You want him to feel guilt, or at least a sliver of the way you feel. 

There’s a gentle hand on your shoulder. Your brain doesn’t even register that Joel is pulling you into his chest, wrapping solid arms around your shaking frame. He holds the back of your neck, squeezing tenderly just like he did when your mom yelled at you and he wanted to calm you down. 

“Why are you cryin’?” he mumbles. “I told you I’m not gonna do anythin’ to you. Or to him. I just wanted him to think before he put you in any danger. What if it wasn’t me there? Not everyone is as they seem in this town.” 

After all this time Joel Miller is still looking out for you. 

“It’s not that,” you answer, between sniffled and muffled hiccups. “I’m embarrassed and so fucking tired. I don’t want you thinking I’m some damsel in distress, even though me crying isn’t really helping,” you take a deep breath and peel yourself unwillingly from his chest. “I don’t feel good about myself. I never do with him. I just feel like shit with some more shit thrown over. And well. . . now I know that you don’t want me either. It’s just too much. But I’ll be okay, thank you for looking out after me even though I’m a mess.” 

He suddenly grips your chin and pulls you close enough that your noses almost touch, “What the hell makes you think that I don’t want you?” 

“You. . .” with a sigh, you look away. “You didn’t want to fuck me.” 

“You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

Squeezing your chin, he forces your gaze back to him. His lips are parted, pupils wide enough to hide the chocolate brown of his eyes. He seems just as surprised as you feel. Arousal pools between your legs, heat dripping down the curve of your spine. You press your thighs together and swallow. 

Joel’s hand moves up to your cheek and cups it gently, thumb toying with the corner of your lip, “I just never thought you’d be interested if I’m bein’ honest. Especially not after. . . everything I’ve done.” 

“You’ve done what you’ve had to do to survive,” you kiss the curve of his palm and he shifts, coming even closer. “I always wanted to come back to you, you know? You’re my first love, Joel Miller. Deep down I always wanted you to be the last.” 

Joel was never an emotional guy. He always had trouble expressing what he thought and felt, thinking he always had to hide behind large invisible walls. The outbreak had put a magnifying glass over that quality of his. You can only tell that your words affected him by how the crease between his brows softens and his cheeks gain a subtle red hue. 

He only grunts as he forcefully brings your hand to his crotch, his cock hard and throbbing under your palm. His lips skim down your neck, kissing where your pulse beats frantically. Joel grinds into your palm, “You still want to fuck with your boyfriend waiting in the living room?” 

“God, yes.” 

You stand up and he parts his legs for you, allowing you to take your rightful place between them. Looking up, his fingers dance up your shoulders, pushing off the robe so it once again pools at your feet. The fabric of your bra has worn away with time, meaning that your nipples meet no resistance as they stiffen under his gaze. Joel licks his lips and brings both thumbs to the peaks, rubbing them until they’re fully hard. 

Then he suddenly shoves you closer to him, your aching nipple met with his wanting mouth. He sucks through the fabric. Saliva darkens the color. He sucks and moans each individual nipple until both are hard like diamonds and only then do you find yourself on the bed, his mouth still on you, starving for more. Your back forms the perfect arch, the sheets feeling like silk against your skin despite them being years old—almost rotten.

He drags his lips down your body, rough facial hair tickling your skin, your hips helplessly stutters into the air. Two large hands pin your hips down. You can’t help the noises that tumble from your lips. For the first time, you’re feeling whole. He lays soft kisses against your inner thighs and finally, he reaches where you want him most. 

Joel sucks your clit through the fabric and your body jerks, seeking the heat of his mouth against your bare cunt instead. He smiles, digging his blunt nails into your flesh. 

“Patience,” he licks a stripe down your clothed folds. “I want you to be loud, sweetheart. Make noise for me. If you want me to fuck you, that’s my price—your sounds.” 

Liam never liked the sounds you made. Unless you were mimicking porn and whispering how close you were, which was a very rare occasion. 

Joel slides his hands up to the softness of your stomach, squeezing gently. Like you might fade away at any given second. He kisses the lips of your pussy and his eyes flutter closed. 

“Doesn’t it feel good,” he begins, his southern drawl more prominent as his voice grows deeper. “To have that prick in the next room listenin’ to me fuck you, riddled with guilt because he bet on his pretty girlfriend?” 

It does feel good. “You think I’m pretty?” 

“‘Course I do,” his brows furrow, eyes finding yours. “Prettiest girl I’ve known since the first day my dick got hard.” 

The words send a tingle up your spine but Joel doesn’t allow you to linger on them for long. He slides your underwear to the side. The fabric sticky with slick, he immediately presses his lips deep into your cunt, tongue swirling around your entrance and teasing it by pushing in the tip. You cry out and grip his head, your legs pressing against his ears. Your heart hammers within the confinements of your ribcage. 

“Gonna ruin you,” he groans, licking himself deeper and rutting the bed. Your eyes roll back, your body melting with every fat stroke of his tongue. 

Joel takes you apart slowly. His jaw moves, head lazily going from left to right. You feel so wet, soaked, from both his mouth and your slick. It’s almost like he goes slower the more soaked you are. He draws various shapes around your throbbing clit. You're left withering under him, shaking, begging, and moaning his name loud enough that the entirety of Jackson could probably hear. The wet smack of his mouth is followed by loud slurps and groans, and your stomach coils tight. 

After all these years, Joel Miller had certainly learned a few new tricks. He wasn’t that same teenager anymore, though, neither were you. He feels different, yet he also feels the same. Like a familiar wind stroking your skin. 

“So damn wet and sweet like honey, fuck.” 

He moves away and you nearly cry out of frustration, fingers burrowing into the old sheets. You only move when you hear the deafening sound of a belt buckle coming loose. Joel’s pants drop to his ankles, cock painfully hard and slightly curving to the side. Your mouth waters, “No underwear?” 

“Got too lazy to wash’em last Sunday,” he lazily strokes himself. Today is Tuesday. He’s been going commando all this time. More saliva fills your mouth, you don’t know why but the thought excites you and he seems to notice. “You always did get turned on by the weirdest things,” he mutters. “Now get on your knees, sweetheart. Been waitin’ a long time to feel those lips again.” 

You pout, “Forearms are sexy, ask anyone.”

Joel sighs and shakes his head, his dark gaze makes you clench around nothing. He ignores your comment entirely.  “Don’t make me say it again.” 

You sink to your knees immediately after that. 

He’s so much thicker than you remember. The bulbous head a beautiful shade of red, shiny beads of precome gathered at the slit. You notice the vein meandering down the underside of his cock and you trace it with the tip of your tongue. The blood pumps harder in response, his length twitches and smears the shiny pearls against your cheek. 

You moan as you finally take him between your lips. The corners of your mouth sting from how wide you need to open to accommodate him. You manage to take him half way in, swirling your tongue, you hollow out your cheeks. 

“That’s it—That’s it, fuck—suck me harder, sweetheart, please—” his hips rock forward, his cock filling your mouth until the head is hitting the back of your throat. You choke on him and his head falls at the way your throat constricts around the width of him. He then pulls out, prompting you to look up. His hair is a mess, lips swollen and parted. “Use your spit, need you to wet my cock good if you want me to fit darlin’. I ain’t that teenager anymore.” 

You kiss the soft crease between his balls, rolling them with your tongue. You’re delighted to witness how he shudders at the soft caress of your lips, “I can see that.” 

“Get on with it then.” 

Joel sounds almost annoyed—no, not annoyed, but eager, desperate—to have your mouth wrapped around him with Liam in the other room. You don’t want to make him wait so you slowly allow a thin line of saliva to drip from between your lips. His thighs tense when it touches the head of his cock. 

“Is his dick as big as mine?” he asks, jaw locked, words bouncing off of clenched teeth. 

“No,” you gasp, dragging your lips down the length of him while staring at him through heavy lashes. “No, it’s not as big as yours.”

Suddenly you’re lifted to your feet, your body nothing but a ragdoll as he pushes you to the bed, the old mattress creaking with protest at the added weight.  

“Play with that fuckin’ pussy for me, I want to see it.” He wraps a hand around his weeping cock, his strokes hard and calculated. Your breasts tingle as you push a hand between your thighs, he clicks his tongue in disapproval, approaching the end of the bed. “Spread your legs wide, honey.” 

As soon as you open your legs and spread your folds for him to see how soaked you are, he’s quick to climb up the bed. Turning you to your side, he gets right behind you. Joel wets his own fingers, sucking on them with a loud groan before replacing yours with his own. He rubs your clit with precise movements, each stroke hitting the mark and making you see bright, dazzling stars. Your body moves on its own. Heat pools between your legs, your hips grinding back to feel the heft of him on your ass. 

“Joel, please,” you whimper. “Please, fuck me, please—” 

His lips touch your cheek and he breathes heavily, his chest heaving and rattling with every exhale. You feel the head of his cock slowly sinking into you, stretching you wide as his lips decorate your sweaty skin with fleeting kisses. 

“You’re takin’ me so fuckin’ well, honey,” your eyes roll back, a mild pain blossoming from where you two connect. He brushes his fingers over your clit, the sharp pleasure shortening your breath. “That’s it. That’s my girl takin’ my big cock so well. So good. So good for me.” 

Your jaw drops as you take him inch by inch. He continuously plays with your clit, kissing you and whispering words of praise while his tongue plays with your earlobe. You feel like mush. Like dough that only he can mold. Your lashes grow wet with tears, your heart beating so wild that you swear he can hear it as well. Joel slightly pulls back his hips and pushes back in, your breath catches in your throat, and soon enough he begins fucking you with shallow thrusts. 

“Is this what you wanted, huh?” he mutters into your ear. You nod helplessly, your body burning from the inside out. “Tell me, louder, come on,” a smack echoes in the small room, and pain blossoms over your ass cheek. “Come on, louder.” 

“Yes!” you cry out. In a weak attempt to meet his thrusts, you roll your hips. “Yes, this is what I wanted. I’ve never stopped thinking about it—never stopped thinking about you.” 

“Is this pussy mine?” 

“Yes, it’s fucking yours.” 

Your voice must’ve come out too much like a whisper because Joel’s pace quickens. He fucks you hard, deep, hammering into you until you’re struggling for air. He wraps thick fingers around your neck, squeezing until there’s pressure building under your eyes, your lungs burning. 

He loosens his grip around your throat, “I wanna hear it, come on now, don’t make me beg for it. Tell me, is it mine?” 

“Yours! It’s fucking yours!” 

Suddenly Joel is underneath you and you’re on top, his hips relentless as he snaps his hips up into you. It feels even better now. The way his cock massages your walls shooting crackles of electricity up your spine. He holds your ass with both hands and spreads you for his liking. 

You moan his name and when you look down, seeing him staring at your face, a sudden gush of embarrassment overwhelms you and with a small whimper, you cover his eyes with both your hands. Joel grits his teeth at that. He fucks you harder, the vicious way he presses inside making you gasp and drop your hands so you can brace yourself by flattening your palms over his chest. His eyes flash with anger. 

“Why the fuck—” he growls, “would you cover my eyes?” 

“I–I got embarrassed—” you squeeze your eyes shut and open them back again. You push down your hips, taking him to the hilt as a form of apology, but he doesn’t seem to accept it and holds you still. Your head falls back with his every thrust. 

“If you ever pull that stunt again, I’ll take you over my knee,” he rasps, ignoring the way your pussy clenches at his words. 

His finger teases your asshole and beads of sweat gather at your tailbone. Joel’s grin is dangerous, something you’d run away from rather than run towards. But you can’t help it. A wanton moan rattles your throat, your pussy clenching hard around his cock. He presses forward, burying his finger down to the first knuckle. You shudder over and over, your body building tension and releasing it simultaneously. 

“You like that, wildflower?” he groans, thrusting his finger in and out while snapping his hips up. “You enjoy it when I play with your tight little asshole?” 

“Fuck, fuck—Joel—yes, yes I do.” 

His other hand snakes around the back of your neck and yanks you down. His damp lips touch your ear, “Gonna fuck this hole one day, pretty thing. . . gonna fuck it so hard you’re not gonna be able to stand for weeks.” 

Before you can catch your breath, you’re being hauled towards the closed door, the emptiness you feel sudden and cold. He pulls your hips up, presses your cheek against the barely standing wood. Your hard nipples graze against the surface, a jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine. Again, Joel thrusts forward, filling you to the brim. The mild pain tingles within your lower abdomen and you melt against him, eyes rolling back as you wiggle your ass for him. 

With every rock of his hips, your body hits the door with a thud and you’re sure Liam can hear every forceful fuck, “Tell him how fuckin’ bigger I am than him—I wanna fuckin’ hear, it come on.” 

“He’s so much bigger than you!” you groan, bracing your palm against the door. “You hear me, Liam? Never had a bigger cock in my life, I’m soaked.” 

Liam’s muffled voice follows through, “Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell is wrong with you? You fucking whore!” 

You know it shouldn’t, but his words still jar you. 

“I’ll fuckin’ break his hands for that, don’t you worry darlin’,” Joel mutters into your skin, his words marking you as something untouchable. “And I’ll make it fuckin’ hurt.” He then kisses your shoulder and shouts towards the door, slamming especially hard this time so the thud of you hitting the door echoes. “You’re the one who gambled her like some kind of prize you dickhead. Don’t blame her for feelin’ good about it!” 

“You could never satisfy me,” you say barely above a whisper, like you’re not entirely sure you’re allowed to feel good about this. About finally having him all to yourself. 

“That’s it, tell him,” Joel growls, pushing his cock even deeper. You swear that if you looked down at your stomach, you’d see a bulge, as impossible as that sounds. “Tell him.” 

You desperately grab at Joel’s forearms, feeling the sinewy muscle tense. Your slick drips down his length and wets the inside of your thighs. With a loud moan you repeat your words and it feels delightful. 

You only smile when you hear the outer door close shut. Liam is gone. 

“Yes yes yes,” Joel murmurs into your neck, ramming into you harder. “That’s it, come on my cock, sweetheart, please—I wanna feel it—” 

Your breath catches in your throat, body seizing, “B—Bed,” you manage to choke out. 

If he pulled out, you’re not aware. His body is a constant presence against your back, lips always latched on to a patch of skin, tasting the salt. Joel lays you down gently and pushes your legs high enough that it grazes your forehead with every desperate snap of his hips. 

“Is this what you want?” he groans, the wet noises of him fucking into the tight fist of your cunt bouncing off the walls. 

“Yes, Joel— this is what I want.” 

“My whore,” he leans over and grinds into you. He slips his tongue into your mouth, sucks on your tongue. The back of your thighs ache with protest but you whimper into the kiss anyway. Breaking the kiss, Joel breathes into you, “My good sweet little whore,” and another kiss. 

Your eyes roll back, “So deep,” you groan, breaking the kiss. 

“Deeper deeper deeper,” Joel mocks you by mimicking your dazed tone with his drawl. He slowly pushes in, holding himself there, he halts your breath. “How’s that, wildflower? Deep enough for you?” 

“Oh god, Joel—” you choke. You fist the sheets, your cunt fluttering and throbbing. He doesn’t move, he flexes his cock and the pressure of that is enough to break you. 

Joel wasn’t expecting it, this much your muddled brain is able to realize from the shocked groan he lets out. His lips find purchase on your forehead, kissing and mumbling praise as your entire body clenches and releases, your pussy gushing around him. You feel the trickles of fresh wetness ripping out of you and all you can do is take it when Joel resumes his thrusts, fucking you through your messy orgasm. 

Despite your insistent begging of wanting him to come inside, Joel pulls out, coming undone instantly as he does so. He rubs himself over your mound, thick ropes of come spurting across your stomach and even the underside of your right breast. He releases your legs and they fall limply to his sides. 

Joel kisses you long and deep, his weight comforting above your trembling body. When he finally pulls away, he lets out a low chuckle and brushes your noses together. 

“I think he left, sweetheart.” 

“Good,” you mumble and press a quick kiss to his flushed lips. “All I want is you.” 

Liam’s not your boyfriend anymore. 

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Let You Down

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, John Winchester x daughter!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: after you fail on a hunt, John leaves you high and dry, but Dean is there to help.

“Kill her!”

“Oh sweetie, you wouldn’t kill your own mommy, would you?”

“You-you’re not my mom, you’re not!” You cried. “You’re a monster.”

“Kill her!” John Winchester pushed you forwards, and your machete shook in your small hands.

The vampire that used to be your mother bared its teeth at you. Even as she advanced on you, murder in her eyes, you didn’t go for the kill.

“M-mom please,” you begged. “Don’t-don’t make me do this, ple-“ you cried out when John tackled you out of the way as your mother lunged at you. Once she missed, she gave up, turned and rushing out of the building. John started after her, but stopped when he saw it was pointless; she was too fast.

You heard your machete clang to the ground as your hand went limp. Your shaking legs gave out, and John held you up as he dragged you out of the building.

“What was that?” He demanded, and you flinched when he shook your shoulders. “She was going to kill you!��

“M-my mom…” you began to shiver, and you only now noticed that it was starting to rain.

“That wasn’t your mom!” John growled. “Not anymore. That was a vamp. And now, she got away thanks to you.”

You hesitantly followed John as he started towards his car. Your legs were shaky, and you felt like you could hardly breathe.

“No,” you flinched when John held out a hand to stop you. “No, you’re going back to the motel. I have to track that vamp, and I can’t trust you to help with that.”

“How-how am I gonna get back?” You wrapped your arms around yourself as the cold rain picked up.

“You’re gonna walk,” John opened his door and climbed into the car. “It’s not that far, and I have your mess to clean up.”

Before you could open your mouth to respond, John had closed his door and backed out of the lot, turning down the street and disappearing around a bend in the road.

You were still for a long moment, frozen in shock, until the crack of lightning and boom of thunder startled you into action. You began in the direction that you’d came from, trying to calculate how many miles you would have to walk. It was a fairly straight shot to the motel, so you were almost convinced that you wouldn’t get lost, but with the cold rain beating down on you, you were worried about being out here too long. The last thing John needed was to get back from his hunt only to find you either not back yet, or sick from the cold. You figured you’d burdened him enough for one night, so if you were gonna get back, you had to be quick about it.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been out there, it felt like forever, but you didn’t think you’d gone very far. The wind was against you, threatening to knock you off your weary limbs with every gust. The shaking had gotten worse, and no matter how tightly you wrapped your jacket around you, the soaked material offered you no warmth.

You were just beginning to worry that your strength would give out when the roar of an engine and the glare of headlights made you lift your head. You couldn’t quite make it out in the gloom, until it pulled to a stop next to you and your big brother Dean stepped out.

“You ok?” He demanded, but one look at you answered his question, and without hesitation he pulled off his jacket and wrapped you up in it. “C’mon, get in the car.”

“Why are you here?” You waited until you were safely in the Impala to speak.

“Dad called,” Dean kept his eyes on the road, and the tension in his shoulders was making you nervous. “He told me what happened.”

“He asked you to come get me?” It didn’t seem likely.

“Nope,” Dean said.

“Then wha-“

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Dean turned finally to glance at you. “Are you ok?”

You gave him a feeble nod in return, hugging his jacket more tightly around you as you continued to shiver.

“Words, kiddo.”

“I’m ok,” you cursed the quaver in your voice that revealed the truth.

“Yeah, ok,” Dean scoffed. “Look, we’ll be at the motel soon, and you’re gonna take a hot shower and I’ll get you some dry clothes and warm food.”

“Ok,” you sniffled, trying desperately to hold back the tears building up behind your eyes. The image of your mother, fangs bared, charging at you, wouldn’t stop replaying in your head.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” Dean said.

“I couldn’t kill her,” you ducked your head. “She tried to kill me, and I didn’t do anything. I let dad down.”

Dean was silent for a long moment, as though fighting what he wanted to say. Finally, he spoke,

“He let you down.”

“What?”

“Making you go after your mom,” Dean shook his head. “You should never have had to do that.”

You stared at your big brother for the remainder of the ride. You’d never heard him speak a word against John, and now that he had you weren’t sure how to respond. Was he right?

“C’mon,” Dean led you inside the motel, pushing you towards the bathroom as he went to scavenge food from the fridge to warm up.

“How are you doing?” Dean asked after your shower as he handed you a paper plate of leftovers.

“Better,” you sat down on Dean’s bed, and Dean followed you. You stared at him in surprise when he put his hand against your forehead.

“You’re not getting sick?” He questioned, pulling his hand away.

“I don’t think so.”

“Ok. Finish that,” he gestured at your plate, “and get some sleep, ok?” He wasn’t about to tell you, but he was hoping that you’d be fast asleep by the time John returned. If John put two and two together and realized what Dean had done, then Dean wanted to be the one blamed, not you.

Once you’d finished your food, you stretched out on Dean’s bed and tried to fall asleep. For some reason, you found that you still couldn’t stop shivering. You weren’t sure if it was the result of the cold rain, or of what you’d been through tonight.

“Dean?” You called hesitantly after a while.

“What’s up?” He asked, stepping away from where he’d been researching and coming to stand by you. “You should be asleep.” Then, he noticed your shaking. “Hey, you ok?”

“Can-can you stay with me?”

Dean didn’t hesitate, climbing in next to you and pulling you close.

“Are you cold?”

“Kind of,” you breathed. “I just-I just can’t stop shaking.”

“Hey, it’s ok,” Dean sensed your rising panic; he didn’t blame you, after the night you’d had. “It’s ok, I’m right here. Just try and get some rest, you’ll feel better tomorrow.”

Dean kept you close, and the combination of his body heat and his warm comforter over you managed to ease your shivering.

“You did good today, kid,” Dean kept his voice quiet. “I know it was hard, but you didn’t let anyone down tonight.”

You didn’t respond, you just huddled even closer to your big brother. You breathed in a contented breath as you fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, trusting that no matter what else happened, he would never let you down.

[girls-alias]

Hi I love your work, any chance of an frenimes to lovers smut fic with dean x reader. With lots of sexual tension arguing then hot smut please? Maybe up against bunker wall can’t keep their hands off each other.

Frenemies - Dean Winchester

Title: Frenemies - Dean Winchester

Words: 6,303

Relations: Dean Winchester X Reader.

TW: Arguing, strong language, smut.

I sat at the table in the main room of the bunker, Sam and I had been searching for a new case while Dean was out doing God knows what. Dean and I, like usual had an argument this morning. If it wasn't for Sam I would have left long ago. He was my rock during college and my closest friend. We bonded quickly as he noticed my doorway covered in salt, as he was walking through the dorm rooms. We became best friends instantly. Often disregarding studying to exchange hunting stories. I was called back to the hunting life but kept in touch with Sam. Recounting my hunts to Sam as we often called once a week and always kept in touch even after years.

When Sam went back to hunting we often had many stories to exchange and hearing how Dean hadn't changed his ways only infuriated me. Sam had a lot to say about Dean even when we were in college. Dean was a copied and pasted version of John, his father. I tried defending Dean, assuming he must have some issues too but as soon as Sam was back on the road with him again and Dean was still acting like a prick I couldn't make any more excuses.

Dean and I, much to my dissatisfaction, met. I noticed Sam in the bar when I was on a hunt, I'd just arrived but once I caught up with Sam he had been here a few days and we were here for the same thing. Sam invited me to join him which I was over the moon about, until I remembered he hunts with Dean. I pleaded with him to give Dean the time off, Sam was considering it when Dean walked in, instantly approaching our table.

"Wow, little Sammy's on the prowl," He commented as he took a seat beside me. Facing his chair straight at me. I rolled my eyes sucking my teeth as I quickly glared at Sam for letting his brother in the same room as me. He's a pig. "You want to abandon him and have a good time with me?" He asked but I scoffed. I sat forward, closing the distance between Dean and me. He smirked thinking I was interested. I smirked, happy that I would soon ruin his mood.

"I'm not you Dean. I wouldn't abandon Sammy just because John - sorry I mean- You, told me to." I replied, glaring at him annoyed but smirking as his face dropped. He was instantly irritated. I raised an eyebrow waiting for a snarky remark Sam had often told me he was great at, but Dean sat back in his seat looking at me angrily. I smirked wider knowing I had silenced him.

Something I wish I could do more often, now he just acts childish and if he doesn't have something smart to say he just mocks my voice and pulls faces at me like a 5-year-old. Prick! If it wasn't for Sam I would have killed him. The only reason I started hunting with them full-time was because Dean called me to take care of Sam while he was recovering from drinking Demon's blood. I wasn't going to ignore Dean's plead for help when it was to help Sam.

I didn't look up at the sound of the bunker door opening as I knew it was Dean coming back. I rubbed my forehead, my headache coming on instantly, preemptive of the argument Dean and I always have when we're in the same room. He's just infuriating, I would have killed him a thousand times over if I didn't feel bad for Sam. Sam describes us as 'frenemies' we hate each other all the time but if someone threatened him I would kill them. Dean has done the same, I think we both recognise that it would hurt Sam if he lost either of us so we're simply protecting what Sam loves. Sam finds entertainment in our arguing half the time, it's probably the only reason we don't do it secretively.

Sam doesn't mind us bickering but if he saw us hit one another he would freak. Dean and I often punch each other, body shots, if Sam's leaving the room or he's not around. My favourite was when I lightly punched Dean in the balls as I passed him, following Sam out of the room. I turned back to put the finger up at him, watching satisfied as he hunched over in pain. Dean's favourite was probably when I was having a drink and he pulled my hair so I choked and got covered in my drink. I'd pulled out my gun when he did it but Sam walked in, he must have timed it.

I ignored the conversation as Sam asked where he had been. Dean grunted something in reply. I was getting better and better at not actually listening to him. His voice just sounds like groans to me now. God, I hate him more than I've ever hated anything or anyone.

“I was out. What’s it got to do with you?” Dean snapped at Sam. I instantly raised my gaze to glare at Dean slightly shocked and slightly annoyed. He rolled his eyes, groaning that he had got my attention.

“I know you’re not talking to Sam like that. Try again,” I demanded. My tone showed my short patience for him.

“I’m so sick of you picking fights with me, you hated me from the second we met,” he groaned, clenching his jaw as he noticed my angered expression. It wasn’t as intimidating as my look was of pure rage. I had done that expression to Dean before and he was terrified but he knew if he kept arguing back I would soon have that expression plastered across my face. He just gets under my skin like no monster ever has.

“Yeah, it was a great judgment call. You think you’re god gift but the perfect gift would be for you to be out of my life. Dean, you’re so infuriating,” I retorted. My voice raised and anger raised my heart rate. He rolled his eyes at me. I felt the rage coming up as he diverted his gaze slightly before huffing hot air from his chest and not backing down this time. “Roll your eyes at me again and I will blind you,” I threatened through gritted teeth.

“I don’t think you will.” He tested but I chuckled dryly. I stared at him for a second as he looked at me expectantly. I grinded my teeth slightly as I recognised he had finally grown a pair.

“Sam, leave,” I instructed. Not taking my eyes off Dean. He instantly looked a little hesitant but from the rate of his chest rising and falling, I knew he was almost as angry as me.

“No, I’m-“ Sam started.

“Get out,” Dean shouted. I instantly rose from my seat. I have killed many monsters that raised their voice or even glared at Sam. I have no shame in doing the same to Dean. I’m done with him now. There is no way I can put up with him anymore. I’m done. My chair clattered as it fell behind me. I couldn’t take my eyes off Dean. My vision turned red as my breathing became erratic.

“Don’t you dare shout at him!” I practically screamed at him. He clenched his jaw looking at Sam annoyed.

“Take baby,” he explained throwing Sam the keys. He hesitated to leave but as soon as the door closed behind him Dean looked at me. “Come on then. Blind me, punch me, stab me. Whatever it takes for you to get off your fucking high horse and stop being such a bitch.” He spat. I scoffed, tucking my teeth slightly as I nodded.

“Dean, you’re a pain in my ass. You’re such an idiotic, insensitive and obnoxious dick. You have no idea all the things I have dreamt of doing to you. I have dreamt of killing you so many times, if it wasn’t for Sam you would have died the day I met you.” I screamed now moving around the table to approach him. He scoffed. He may be taller but I’ve never been intimidated by height. If anything it motivates me more. If we’re ever fighting a group of vampires I always go for the biggest and baddest.

“See you say that but you’ve never even made me bleed. I’ve seen you overpower three demons at once when I was hurt. You care for me and I’m sick of you acting like you hate me,” he argued. I chuckled dryly shaking my head as my hands started to shake from the rage. He’s purposely trying to piss me off.

“Oh yeah, says the guy that cried in the back seat while you pulled the bullet from my side and thought I was dying,” I shouted but he clenched his jaw.

“That’s different,” he tried but I scoffed.

“You’re right it’s different, you cried like a bitch because you were going to lose me but when it was you I was angry. Angry that you’d have an attitude,” I retorted. He rolled his eyes. He rolled his eyes at me! Again! My fist connected to his cheek before he even finished rolling his eyes. I moved closer swiping his legs from under him and pushing his chest down as he fell to the floor. He wheezed clearly winded. “What have I told you about rolling your eyes at me?” I asked through gritted teeth. He looked at me furiously. With a swift movement, he elbowed me in the face, overpowered me and was now pining me down. I spat blood from my mouth, aiming my face away from him because I would kill anyone who spit on me, it's disgusting. Well, if they did it maliciously I would kill them.

"Not so big now, are you?" He smirked, thinking he had gotten the better of me. I bucked my hips up, hitting his side so he stumbled over my head. I hurried out from under him wrapped my legs around his and pinned his arms above his head so he was unable to move. He grunted, trying to free himself from my grasp. I smirked seeing how defeated he looked.

"Should have kept that pretty mouth shut," I exclaimed with a smug smirk. His eyes wandered as he thought. He quickly moved up, pressing his lips to mine. Instincts kicked in before I could think as I let go of his hands and moved away from him. He took this opportunity to push me backwards and follow me. He now pinned me and I glared at him as he chuckled.

"If you didn't want me to kiss you, you shouldn't be such a tease," He commented but I scoffed, I tried kneeing him in the balls but his legs kept mine in place, he chuckled at my attempt.

"In what universe am I a tease?" I asked, buying some time to think of how to get out of this. He scoffed as if my question was obvious.

"You mean to tell me, you don't do it on purpose?" He asked genuinely. I could see from his expression he was confused and was no longer speaking with venom in his tone. I stopped struggling beneath him as I looked at him confused. He's being serious. "You really don't know?" He asked, his grip loosening on me. I should take this as my opportunity, he's messing with me. He has to be.

I bent my knee, planting my foot on the ground before pushing off and rolling us. He seemed to not fight it as he was still genuinely confused by our conversation. He seemed to study me as if looking for a hint of me lying. He didn't fight back when I pinned him now. I rolled my eyes as he continued watching me. "What?" I asked annoyed wanting him to come out with it. He looked dazed, blinking a few times and lightly shaking his head.

"Nothing, forget I said anything," He tried, looking awkward and called out. My eyebrows furrowed as I recognised he seemed disheartened or upset.

"What?" I asked again, my tone slightly raised.

"Forget it," He shrugged. I rolled my eyes, my anger evaporating as I was stumped by what he was thinking about. I gave him a final jab to the ribs before getting up. I have to make sure he doesn't attack me when I stand up, this is probably a trick and I'm stupid enough to fall for it. I got up as he groaned in pain. I instantly left, sick of him. We finally fight and he does shit like that. He kissed me and called ME the tease. What is he smoking?

I stormed to the bathroom, checking my reflection as I noticed he had busted my bottom lip when he elbowed me in the face. I ran it under the water, cleaning it as I thought. What did he mean? He called me a tease and was confused that I didn't understand. He asked if I was serious about not knowing. When have I ever been a tease? I make it apparently clear that I hate Dean.

Yeah, there was a time on a hunt when I had to pretend to be his girlfriend but as soon as we were alone I punched his arm for grabbing my ass. He didn't hear the end of it for weeks as I constantly called him an opportunist prick. I rolled my eyes, knowing he was just trying to get in my head because I was winning.

I walked out of the bathroom, swiftly making my way to my room. I walked a few steps before Dean approached me from behind. I groaned showing I was not interested in his arguments right now, or gloating that he got in my head. He seemed to walk with purpose, I turned my head to look at him but he spun me around and pressed me against the wall. I looked at him confused and annoyed as he seemed angry. I pushed my foot away from the wall so he was now pinned on the opposing wall. He groaned at my movement, he started rolling his eyes but quickly stopped himself knowing how much it pisses me off.

"You haven't been teasing me?" He asked, almost as a statement. My eyebrows furrowed.

"Dean, I have made it abundantly clear that I hate you," I explained but he scoffed.

"So, you walking around in my t-shirt last week was an accident?" He asked but I chuckled.

"Yes, I thought it was Sam's," I argued but he shook his head.

"You continued to wear it the rest of the day," He tried but I scoffed.

"Well, I wasn't going to take it off in front of you," I scoffed, he sucked his teeth annoyed.

"Okay, what about when you give me those eyes you do, or when you bite your lip? There are thousands of times when you've teased me," He urged but I looked at him like he was crazy.

"That's called wishful thinking," I groaned but he shook his head.

"No, that's me being observant," He argued. He pushed against the wall so he was pinning me again, this time pushing his whole body against me so I couldn't move. I huffed as I recognised it would be difficult to get out. "You look at me like you want to fuck me, your heart rate increases and you struggle to speak unless you're shouting at me. You bite your lip at more things I say than Sam. You make pornographic sounds when I enter a room and you avoid being alone in a room with me," He explained but I chuckled dryly.

"All those things are me being angry with you. I don't look at you like I want to fuck you, I look at you like I want to kill you. I groan when you enter a room because it isn't pleasant being around you. I don't want to be alone with you because one day I actually will kill you," I explained through gritted teeth but he smirked.

"Then why did you hesitate when I kissed you?" He asked but I scoffed, slightly laughing in his face.

"Because I didn't expect it," I retorted but he smirked.

"Okay, then here's your warning. I'm going to kiss you," He said before quickly connecting his lips to mine. I didn't move my mouth, trying to bring my hand up to punch him in the face but he caught my wrist as he pinned it to the wall above my head.

I decided to kiss him back, figuring I could distract him long enough for him to let go of my wrist. I moved my lips against him, recognising his smile as I did. His tongue entered my mouth unexpectedly. I played along, giving him access but not allowing myself to enjoy it. He moved my other wrist to his other hand, pinning both of my arms in one of his hands. He moved his free hand down my side before pulling my body against his by my waist. I gasped softly at the movement. He smirked against my lips. I begged myself to stop enjoying it. I hate this man! I hate Dean Winchester!

And yet, he's kissing me and I want more. His free hand danced on the hem of my shirt, moving up to feel the skin on my side. His hand grazed my scar from the bullet he pulled out of me with purpose. I grew weak as my tongue fought his, my mind begging me to fight this but my body craving his touch. He grinded his hips against mine, his hard bulge making me moan as I craved the touch. I'm not the type to sleep with random people so my natural instinct was to get my sexual frustration satisfied. His grip on my wrists loosened as I moaned, my hands falling free. He started pulling away from the kiss expecting me to punch him. Even I expected to punch him.

My hand moved to the back of his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss. My brain frazzled as I recognised that I needed this. I need him. His tongue reentered my mouth as he grinded his hips into me again, smirking as I moaned into his mouth. His left hand moved to my thigh, pulling it to his side as he pushed his hips against me so my back was flat against the wall again. My eyes rolled to the back of my head at his movement. He moved from my lips, kissing down my neck as he began making out with my skin. Open-mouthed kisses were sure to leave hickeys. I breathed deeply, moans escaping me as he pushed his hard erection against my wet and ready pussy.

I gasped as he bit my skin, his grip tightening and nails digging into my skin. "You still irritate me, Dean," I explained, still moaning from his touch. He chuckled softly against my skin.

"Then, tell me to stop," He teased but I didn't have it in me. I need him and he knows this. Maybe I always did need him but didn't want to admit it. I caved way too easily. It would explain why he frustrates me so much. He took my silence as a cue to continue. He kissed my neck with more purpose. His hand on my waist moved to the bottom of my back. "Jump," He explained before leaning back. I jumped slightly. I wrapped my legs around him as he released my thigh and held my ass to hold my weight. I hastily connected our lips.

He moaned against my lips as he walked me down the hall. He kicked open the first door and came down with me as he lay me on the bed. I moaned, knowing instantly we both wanted more than just this. I rolled my hips against him earning a moan from his lips. He kissed me with more passion, his hands travelling to the bottom of my shirt, pulling it up and over my head, his mouth reconnecting with mine as his hands explored my bra-covered breasts. His hips seemed to grind against me out of instinct. He pulled away to pull his shirt from over his head with my help. He grinned widely before his lips found mine again. He's clearly happy we're doing this.

I moaned, my head pushing into the bed as my eyes rolled to the back of my head. He took the opportunity to kiss my neck. His hands moved behind my back to unclasp my bra. I stopped his movements as he started pulling it from my body and leaving me exposed. He pulled back to look at me a little confused.

"Lock the door," I instructed but he looked at me like I was stupid.

"We're the only ones here," He retorted but I rolled my eyes. He's too irritating why did I want to do this? I rolled my eyes, shaking my head as I recognised my mistakes. How on Earth was I stupid enough to believe he wouldn't irritate me? He groaned, getting up and walking to the door. I half expected him to leave but he shut the door and locked it. Turning back with a defeated expression. "Happy?" He asked, his tone showing his disappointment.

"Dean, I swear to God-" I explained as I sat up, arms covering my breasts as I glared at him as he approached me.

"Shut up," He simply stated as he came back on top of me and reconnected our lips.

"You piss me off," I explained against his lips.

"Good," He retorted only making my heart beat quicken and it was unclear if it was because I hated him or needed him. He gripped the bra which was still unclasped but on my arms. He ripped it away from my body harshly. I chuckled, against his lips before his tongue entered my mouth. Our tongues dance in the middle. I rolled my hips into him, and he moaned into my mouth. I smirked slightly.

Dean got up, he watched me with hungry eyes before gripping the top of my leggings and harshly pulling them down. I gasped but smirked at his eagerness. I was dragged down the bed slightly so he could rid me of my clothes. My heart beat so fast I worried he could hear it. I watched intently as his chest rose and fell rapidly, at least I knew he was excited too. He unbuttoned his jeans, his eyes never leaving my face as I bit my lip, watching his hands. I gulped, as he pulled the edge of his jeans apart so the zip came undone. I gulped, biting down harder on my lip as I waited impatiently for multiple reasons, I haven't had sex in probably close to a year, I have no idea how big he will be and I am too wet to think straight.

Dean pulled his jeans down, his boxers purposely staying up to make me wait. I rolled my eyes slightly as I looked into his smiling eyes. He chuckled seeing my annoyance but he soon smirked. He watched me intently as he pulled down his boxers. I looked down, my eyes widening as I clenched my jaw knowing it would have dropped open from the shock if I didn't. Holy shit! His cock is huge. He continued to smirk smugly as he slowly started stroking himself.

"Looks like I've found a way to shut you up," He commented, his tone riddled with sex. He's a slut. I finally looked back at his face, his smirk, the way at me, his eyes. All of it was pornographic and all of it made me even wetter.

"Where are you putting that?" I asked seriously. His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "That's way too big, it isn't going to fit," I explained but he laughed, moving back in. I lay down as he guided me down. His lips curled into a smile as he connected our lips. I pulled away to look at him but he moved his lips to my neck. I moaned from the sensation. "Dean, seriously though. I haven't had sex in a year, be gentle at first," I managed through my moans. He smirked against my neck.

"Y/N," He practically moaned, his tip pressing on the inside of my thigh making me whimper. "You're in charge, tell me when it hurts and when to go for it," He explained between kisses on my neck. I gulped nodding quickly knowing I was ready and almost to the point of begging. My hands quickly found his neck and back as he moved up to connect our lips. I kissed him pleadingly, passion seeping from our lips as our tongues danced. He pulled back to look me in the eyes, his eyes appeared darker in the shadows of the light. His fast breathing came out as something close to growls. "Ready?" He asked genuinely. His voice was deeper and full of desire. I bit my lips, legs clenching for a second as a reaction from his voice. I nodded. He didn't move, he just continued watching me.

"Yeah, yeah. Dean I'm ready," I gulped, wanting him to hurry up so I could feel him inside me. He smirked, and he sat up moving to align his tip with my entrance. I gulped slightly.

"Tell me if you want to stop," He instructed. I smiled softly knowing he didn't want me to feel uncomfortable. I've never felt so safe having sex with someone for the first time. He pushed his tip in softly. His hands on my waist and thumbs rubbing my skin softly. I bit my lip. Whimpering slightly. It didn't hurt yet but I was getting scared of the pain that was about to come. Dean smiled comfortingly as he leaned forward to continue kissing me. I smiled against his lips knowing kissing him would give me a bit of distraction.

I gasped slightly as he slowly pushed in. As soon as the gasp left my lips he stopped, looking at me concerned. "Sorry," I chuckled a little awkwardly.

"You want to stop?" He asked, his hips hesitating to move back. I shook my head with a smile.

"No, It just felt good," I blushed. He chuckled with relief. I placed my hand on the back of his neck to pull his lips to mine. I moved my hand to his back, pulling him closer. He took this as a hint to slowly push inside me. I whimpered, my head dropping back as he entered me. I could feel Dean watching me intently. He stopped the second my eyebrows furrowed, wincing from the stretch. I breathe in through gritted teeth. The pain a little sharp but

"You're doing so good baby," He commented, kissing my cheek as I smiled at his words. Hearing him call me baby seemed to flick a switch inside me, my insides turned to mush and I suddenly had no idea how I'd ever disliked him. "Either you're ready to continue or you like it when I call you baby," He commented, I giggled softly, my eyes finding his as he licked his lips.

"Both," I smirked, he groaned slightly just admiring me. I grinned, leaning up to kiss him. His lips devoured mine, his tongue entering my mouth as if he owned it. He slowly pushed his hips into mine. My moans were muffled by his lips, he hesitated to continue but I wasn't moaning in pain, it was all pleasure. My hand on his back pulled him in, and he smirked against my lips recognising my want and need for him to continue.

His hips continued, my hard cock reaching places inside me I didn't know were reachable. A small fragment of my brain wondered if he was abnormally big or if I had only been with guys who had smaller dicks. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as his hips finally met mine. He groaned, his jaw loosening as he pushed deep inside me. My head pressed into the mattress, my moans coming out soft and slow.

He waited, letting me adjust if I needed to. He started at an incredibly slow pace. His forehead resting on my shoulder, his breaths staggered as he moved agonisingly slow. My nails dug into his back, the feel of his dick slowly gliding in and out with long strides making me weak but his tip hitting my G-spot made me moan animalistically. His strides seemed to be precise and measured, his moans melting with mine as his pace picked up a little.

"This okay, baby?" He asked, his pace never faltering. I nodded quickly, humming a yes as a reply. He kissed my shoulder gently, his smile pressing on my skin. I smiled, simply knowing he was smiling. "Fuck, baby." He groaned as I rolled my hips into his, his cock reaching deeper inside me and almost making me scream instantly.

He bowed his head, bending his neck and adjusting his upper body to suck on my nipple as he continued to fuck me. My eyes rolled to the back of my head from the new sensation. My moans escaped me as if they were expelled from my soul and not breaking through my lips. Dean seemed to take my enjoyment as a challenge to please me more. His hips moved faster, his strides not any less precise and his breathing became more laboured as he too enjoyed the sensations. My pulsing walls clenched around his hard cock making it near impossible for him to not build up.

He sat up, holding my hips in one hand while his other hand moved to where we were joined. I inhaled harshly as his thumb came in contact with my clit. A small chuckle escaped his lips as he watched me, entertained by my reactions and clear enjoyment. I moaned, a little louder than I'd ever moaned before. His thumb rode my ball of nerves and gave me sensations I didn't think possible.

"Fuck, Dean. Don't stop," I moaned, a knot in my stomach tightening and causing my brain to envision fireworks.

"Wouldn't dream of it, baby," He commented, his voice laboured as his breath was quick. I moaned from his voice, the sexy voice that I used to zone out but now know that it's capable of making me almost squirt. I moaned at the thought. I never imagined Dean would be this good in bed. Each push inside kissed my G-spot with force. His thumb works on my clit as if he knows all the things I want without knowing I want it. His voice sent shivers down my spine and clenched my walls around him. "Where's those beautiful eyes?" He asked, deep desire in his tone. My eyes are rolled to the back of my head. I opened my eyes, and instant eye contact had me rolling my eyes again. His green eyes, sharp jaw, light stubble, amazing hair. God! Everything about this man is making my orgasm grow closer and closer.

"Show me your eyes baby," He commented, his breathing almost coming out in growls. I hummed, my orgasm tightening and tensing my muscles. I found the strength to open my eyes, watching as he looked down at me with a dirty smirk. He knows exactly what he's doing to me. I struggled to maintain eye contact as his dick slammed into my G-spot, my orgasm dangerously close.

"Dean, I'm so close," I whimpered, my moans escaping my lips hastily.

"Good, baby. I want you to cum. I want to feel you cum around me," I gulped, my moans escaping more breathlessly. The knot is my stomach almost reaching capacity. "Cum for me, baby. I'm so close," He struggled. Knowing he was close, his sweat beading down his bare chest, his strained expression and unquivering pace sent me over the edge. I gripped the bedsheets beside me, my whole body seemed to tense as the orgasm hit me like a truck.

"Fuck, Dean," I moaned, I gasped before a scream escaped my lips. I hummed as Dean hurried to kiss me. Silencing me as he continued fucking me through my orgasm. My vision darkened, my eyes squeezed shut and my brain turned to mush. My hands found his back, nails digging in as I moaned into his mouth. He pulled back a little, his face scrunched up slightly as he fought off his orgasm wanting to finish mine before he came.

"Fuck. Fuck," He erupted, pulling out of me. His hand pumping his cock as he came up my stomach, I breathed deeply, legs shaking as his thumb never moved from my clit. He groaned, cum spurting out of him as he rested his sweat-covered forehead on mine. I bit my lips, my orgasm subsiding as I watched his orgasm overtake him. His thumb stopped working on my overly stimulated clit. Now resting on the bed beside me. His other hand slowed as the last pump of cum left him and fell onto me. His warm liquid drawing pattern on my skin.

Our breathing was rapid and from Dean's swaying, I knew he wanted nothing more than to lie down. I smiled, admiring him before his eyes finally opened to meet mine. I bit my lip watching as his expression lit up at the sight of me. His lips curled into a smile for a second before he leaned in to kiss me. The kiss was sloppy and slow. Humming as he pulled away, I smiled at him. He chuckled softly as he bit his lip.

"I don't think I've ever cum so hard," He commented quietly, almost whispering. I giggled as I smirked, my cheeks blushing as I admired his details up close. Wishing I could take a mental picture of this moment.

"Me too," I chuckled, he smiled but soon winced with a sigh. I looked at him concerned, wondering if he was in pain, figuring it was a cramp.

"I'll get you a towel," He commented sadly, I chuckled knowing he didn't want to leave this moment as much as I did. His hands holding up his weight seemed to wobble as he was tired.

"Who's room is it?" I asked, not wanting to take my eyes off him for a second. He looked at me a little confused before looking to the side of the bed.

"Yours," I smirked at his reply.

"I'll change the sheets," I shrugged, he instantly understood. Kissing me quickly before moving beside me to lie down. Is it too weird to cuddle? Dean's hand found my shoulder pulling my body in. I chuckled happily as he pulled me into a cuddle, relief overcoming me. I rested my head on his shoulder, my leg draping over his as my arm came up to lie on his chest. My fingers automatically draw patterns on his warm skin. I watched as he smiled brightly. He turned to look at me. Kissing my forehead before admiring me.

We lay in silence for a while, happily catching our breaths and enjoying each other's company. I smiled, just remembering what we had just done and all the emotions that came with it.

"Hey, baby?" His tone was curious. I looked up at him with a smile. He's still calling me baby. "Do you still hate me?" He asked genuinely. My eyebrows furrowed as I shook my head.

"No, I don't think I ever did," I explained, my hand moving to his cheek. He smiled at the contact.

"I'm sorry for everything I've done and every horrible thing I've said to you and Sam when I was angry," He explained, sadness in his tone. I smiled softly.

"I'm sorry too, I promise from now on I will be nothing but nice," I tried but he winced. I looked at him puzzled as he smirked.

"Maybe not all the time. You're really hot when you're angry," He commented, I chuckled as I shook my head. He kissed my forehead with a bright smile. He seemed deep in thought as he played with my hair. "I do want to make this a regular thing though," He commented, his tone showing sincerity. My smile beamed as I nodded.

"Me too," I commented biting my lip as I watched his lips curl into a smile.

"Good, if that's what my baby wants, that's what my baby gets," He added, I blushed as he moved his hand to my chin. He leaned down, and I leaned in the rest of the way to kiss him. His hands played with my hair as our kiss was slow and meaningful. Passion radiates from us. "Can I keep calling you baby?" He asked against my lips. I hummed a yes as I continued to kiss him. His lips smiled against mine, never breaking contact. "Can I take you on a date?" He asked, his lips pushing into mine as if he didn't want words, just actions. I blushed wanting nothing more than to scream a yes. I hummed yes again. I pulled away to smile at him.

"Of course, Dean," I smiled, his lips curled to a smirk. He hummed happily, tucking some loose hair behind my ear.

"I've always loved the way you say my name," He commented, connecting our lips again. I melted into the kiss knowing I would give anything to stay here forever.

Masterlist

[early20sfailingplenty]

Lowkey, I want to see Vincent go insane because his s/o got hurt by a tourist. It’s just something about scary men who get pissed that their partner gets hurt and stops at nothing but get revenge is so 🥰🥰

I love the thought of this!

TW; canon-typical violence, discussion of canon events, dehumanisation of Dalton and Wade (canon-compliant), Bo pukes (unrelated to canon events - I'm not that strong lmfao)

I've always thought that Dalton and Wade got especially brutal deaths because of one simple fact: they messed around in Vincent's House of Wax. It's his domain, it's clear as crystal; it's his hunting ground, it's where he prepares and then displays the best of his trophies.

The House of Wax is his; Wade feigning to burn one of the sculptures was a genuinely asshole move (seriously, who the fuck sees someone else's hard work and starts melting it? Fucking ass) and earned him a place in the House of Wax; he mocked Vincent's work, so Vincent turned him into the very thing as a petty revenge.

Dalton, for his part, destroyed Vincent's latest project, tore the face off of his still cooling artwork and I don't know about you, but if I spend hours making something and then someone deliberately started messing with it, I'd be more than slightly murderous too.

(Though, in Dalton's defence, if I looked up and saw Vincent looming over me like that, I'd lose my head and squirt all over the floor too - I get it, dude).

All this to say... Vincent went apeshit on these two kids because they messed around in his domain. He's possessive, obsessive, deeply passionate and always in control of what he's doing. When Vincent puts his mind to something, he is ruthless and there's absolutely no stopping him.

So now imagine what he'd do, the acts of sheer depravity he'd perform, if his beloved got harmed? He'd be so vicious, so genuinely unhinged, that when Bo later sees what happened to the people he sent Vincent's way, the remains of the bodies would have him stomping outside to throw up in Lester's rose bushes, and even Lester would have to literally scrape them up off the floor with whatever gardening implement he can find. A shovel, maybe. A bucket of water to sluice them away would also work.

There's roadkill, there's roadkill, and then there's... whatever the fuck Vincent did to these people.

There's blood dripping off his twin blades, his overalls are caked in it, he's squelching somewhat in his worn boots as he walks, there's viscera splattered across the wax floor, and somehow there's blood on the ceiling... you know not to ask. But Bo's an interesting shade of porcelain you've never seen before, and even Lester can hardly bear to look.

And you? You're off to the side nursing your injury; nothing life-threatening, and later on you'll be joking with Bo, "'tis but a scratch", but Vincent's reaction has you feeling more than a little loved. Safe, protected, cherished, by the most relentless and brutal of the three Sinclair brothers.

[vodika-vibes]

Hello Vod'ika, congrats for your followers!!

If possible (in advance sorry for my English) I wanted to ask you a Crosshair x Jedi!Reader (angst with happy ending from Cross view?) in a soulmate au (you can't hurt your soulmate kind of au) where chipped!Crosshair supposelly killed reader (then much much later he founds her again, maybe fallen-scarred or something but not heartshoted dead) (they where crushing each other but tightliped/proud/nothing officially stated)

Noble Maiden Fair

Summary: She was his. And He was hers. They were both just too proud to admit it, even to each other. When the order came out, Crosshair shot her. A blaster blot between her eyes. She fell. She died. Crosshair handled the guilt by staying on the move, by not thinking about it, about her. And then he murders an Imperial Officer and his only option is to run, not to his brothers, who abandoned him, but somewhere else.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x Reader

Word Count: 1849

Prompt: Soulmate AU - Soulmates can't hurt each other

Warnings: Some angst

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Thanks! And thank you for your request! I've been bouncing between ideas on this one, and I finally had one that I liked, so I hope you like it too!

“Welcome!” Crosshair frowns at the large Trandoshan man standing just off the landing bay, “It’s been quite some time since we’ve gotten a visitor! Are you the person bringing the seed delivery?”

“Aa, that’s me,” Crosshair replies as he straightens from where he’s checking that his cargo is still in one piece. Honestly, the demotion from soldier to delivery boy annoys him to no end, but it’s better than the alternative. “You’d be the mayor then?”

“Oh, no. Not me.” The Trandoshan says with a laugh, “We’re a bit too small of a community for someone like that. I’m Grrog.”

“I…see.” He doesn’t, not really. But NatBorns have always been weird, “Anyway, where do you want the stuff?”

Grrog gestures to a flat cart near the door, “We’re going to have to make a couple of trips! I hope you’re not on a time crunch.”

Crosshair sighs, “You don’t have any droids?”

“Oh no! Awful things, droids.”

“Of course.” He rips off his work gloves and throws them inside the ship, “I guess we’d better get to work then.”

The Trandoshan looks thrilled and almost bounces over one of the massive pallets of seeds. “Look at it all! Ooh, the farmers will be thrilled!”

“I don’t just have crop seeds. There are also some seedlings for fruit trees. They’re still inside since they’re a bit more delicate.” Crosshair replies as he walks over to the cart and moves it closer to the pallet.

“Perfect! There’s always room for more seedlings!”

“You really are all about this life, aren’t you?” He asks. 

“Oh, yeah. Most of my people are hunters, but, well,” Grrog gestures to himself, and his wide girth, “I’m not made for hunting.” He jokes, “Fruits and Veggies don’t run away at least.”

“Well, there is that.”

“We have a population of a couple hundred people, from all walks of life. We don’t get many new people, though.” 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. People don’t want to be farmers, y’know.” Grrog hoists a couple of bags over to the cart, and then straightens with a groan, “The AgriCorps used to run everything here, but they were wiped out to the last.”

“That right?”

“They were Jedi, you know.” He shakes his head, “Could work miracles with dying planets. Such a shame.”

Crosshair doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. 

But, for half a second, he sees her. He sees her smile and the way her eyes crinkle when she’s happy. He hears her laugh; loud and bright and unashamed. 

His jaw clenches, and he roughly shoves the memory of her away. He doesn’t want to remember her…or the look of confused disbelief when he shot her. Or the way his name fell from her lips as she fell into the ravine.

Still, even though he doesn’t want to remember, it doesn’t make the ache in his chest go away. Or the guilt that threatens to strangle him. 

“You alright?”

Crosshair is ripped from his guilt at the concern in Grrog’s voice, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

He nods, “Sometimes when I think about the Jedi, the grief threatens to overwhelm me too.” He confides, “You’re not alone there, friend.”

“I’m fine.” Crosshair repeats, “Where am I taking this cart?”

Grrog gazes at him thoughtfully, “It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that it’s okay to not be okay, friend.”

Crosshair sighs, “You are incredibly nosy.”

“My wife says that it’s my best feature.”

“I don’t like talking about it. Where am I bringing the cart?” Crosshair bites out.

“Alright, alright. There’s a general store. It’s called General Store.” Grrog says, “The employees there know what to do when you deliver it.”

Crosshair stares at him blankly.

“Ah, right! You’ll go through the spaceport, follow the road until you reach the fountain, and then turn left. The General Store is the first shop on the right. If you see the greenhouses, you’ve gone too far.”

“Alright.” Crosshair pushes the cart through the spaceport, easily side-stepping people. Not that there are many people for him to side-step. Honestly, he’s surprised that this place is big enough to have a spaceport. 

But, then again, they probably sell the excess fruit and vegetables to other planets. 

He pushes the carts through the open doors and stops.

The planet is very green. He should have expected it, it is a farming planet after all. But, for some reason, he wasn’t expecting it to be this green.

For a moment, time slips, and he can hear his kitten’s voice.

“I think, after the war, I’d like to retire.” His kitten says as she absently braids a strand of her hair, her voice soft and thoughtful, little more than a murmur to not wake his brothers.

“Retire?” Crosshair asks, his voice just as quiet, “And what does a Jedi do when they retire?”

She laughs, dropping her braid and resting her chin on the palm of her hand, her eyes glitter with an emotion that Crosshair doesn’t dare name, because naming it would mean that he has to acknowledge it.

“Maybe I’ll become a farmer, move someplace green and alive.”

“You’ll be bored in a week.”

“I think we deserve a little boredom, don’t you?” Her smile is warm and soft, and Crosshair thinks, for a moment, that he would burn the galaxy if it meant that she’d never stop looking at him like that.

With great difficulty, he pushes the memory away.

As much as he’d give anything to go back to that night, with her smiling at him like he hung the stars in the sky for her and her alone. He can’t. 

His kitten is dead.

He killed her.

And the Galaxy is a much darker, and lonelier, place for her absence. 

Crosshair heaves out a sigh and grabs the cart again. He’s not going to stay here. He can’t stay here. All he has to do is deliver the seeds and seedlings, and then he can go somewhere else.

Maybe he’ll move to a desert planet. No green at all.

Not that it’ll help. After all, it won’t change anything. 

He still killed his soulmate.

There’s no coming back from that.

Several hours later, all of the seeds and seedlings are off of his ship, and Crosshair is filling out the last of the paperwork with Grrog. Not to mention, adding some additional fees since he had to unload the ship on his own.

“You sure you don’t want to stay? This place is a lot more welcoming than the rest of the Galaxy.” Grrog offers with a grin.

“I’m sure.”

“You might like farming.”

“I can just about promise you that I won’t.” Crosshair fills the last bit of information on the datapad and then hands it to Grrog, “This looks right?”

“Hm…yep. All of the information is here.” Grrog replies as he scrolls down the information, “Though some of the counts are off, I think. Let me get a count.”

Crosshair rolls his eyes and leans back in the chair, “As you like.”

There’s the sound of a bell behind him as the door to the General Store opens. Grrog beams at the person who just entered, “There you are! We go the seedling shipment in!”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

A voice, soft and female, and so achingly familiar that Crosshair drops the toothpick he’s about to put in his mouth. His head snaps around and he stares, stunned, at the woman standing in the door.

It’s her.

Her hair is longer, braided over her shoulder, and she’s wearing more casual clothes than he’s ever seen her wearing before. 

But it’s still her, his Kitten.

She turns her head slightly and catches sight of him. Her eyes widen, likely just as surprised as he is. Though she doesn’t look afraid, she mostly just looks confused to see him there.

With seeds.

Which, okay, that’s valid.

Grrog vanishes into the back of the shop, and she hesitates, before she turns and walks over to him. 

“Crosshair,” Her voice is soft, and her eyes scan his face. “This is new,” Her fingers, still slightly calloused from years of lightsaber use, brush against the scar on his temple.

He stands and he lightly grips her chin to tilt her head back, “I shot you.” He breathes out.

She meets his gaze evenly, “Yes.”

“You don’t even have a scar.”

She hesitates for a moment, “I figured out what our soul bond is.” She finally says.

Crosshair is silent for a moment, “We can’t hurt each other.”

“No, we can’t.”

He releases her chin, “That’s convenient for us, I suppose.”

“I…” She pauses and then reaches up and presses both of her hands against his cheeks, “We didn’t talk about it. About us. And I know it’s because you were ashamed or—”

“Proud. Not ashamed.” Crosshair corrects, “I was too proud to admit what everyone else already knew. Proud and…a little afraid.”

“Why would you be afraid, Cross?”

“Because. You were so good, Kitten.” He brings his hands to cup her face, “You’re so good and I know you deserve better than me. You always have. Someone as good as you are.”

“I don’t think that’s your choice to make.” She says slowly, thoughtfully. “Not when I’ve been choosing you since the first time we met.”

Crosshair sighs, “You should hate me. I tried to kill you.”

“You didn’t, though.”

Slowly he leans in and bumps his forehead against hers. Crosshair can feel her breath against his face, warm and alive in a way that he never thought that he would feel again.

“I’m sorry.” He says, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please—”

“There is nothing to forgive.” Her voice is soft, yet there’s steel underlying her words, “You did nothing wrong. You and your brothers are as much victims of this war as we were.”

“They made us as weapons,” Crosshair says, his voice thick with grief that he’s never had the chance to put into words, “They made us to be weapons against the Jedi.”

“That’s not your fault.” She whispers, “It’s not your fault, and I can’t think of a single Jedi who would blame you for it. Not when they learned the truth.”

Crosshair shudders, and his forehead falls to her shoulder. 

Gentle arms slide around him and brush through his hair. “Come home with me, Crosshair.” Her offer is soft and warm and so, very, tempting. 

Nothing would make him happier than following her home and making her home. But he can’t put her in danger. He can’t.

“The Empire—”

“—will hunt me whether you’re here or not.” She interrupts, “Don’t leave me again, Crosshair. Please?”

Crosshair melts on the spot, “You don’t play fair, Kitten.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t reply. There’s nothing for him to say. So, instead, he pulls her into a kiss. A kiss that’s been a long time coming. It feels like a missing piece of his soul snaps into place, and his arms slide protectively around her.

He’s never going to let her go again. Ever.

[kitkatscabinet]

Jealousy never looked so good

Pairing: Dean Winchester x gn reader

Prompt request from @crash-and-live: "Hey, is this asshole bothering you?"

Summary: Celebrations following a completed hunt take a turn when Dean gets a little protective.

word count: 1.8k

warnings: oral (m! receiving), slightly sub Dean, cringy smut

The noise filtering through the bar was comforting. Not obnoxiously loud but still lively enough to remind you that the people surrounding you enjoying their night were alive. Free and careless in their mirth, unaware of the dangers that lurked in the dark that they couldn’t even begin to comprehend. 

It was exhausting sometimes, being surrounded by the ignorance of the general populace. But on nights like this one, when you’d finished a hunt and were celebrating a job well done, you could allow yourself to enjoy it. Even Sam hadn’t been opposed to spending an extra night in town, promising to be the designated driver for you and Dean. 

Leaning against the bar you flagged down one of the bartenders, only to recoil in disgust at the stickiness of the wooden tabletop. Grabbing a napkin you dabbed somewhat clumsil, courtesy of the four drinks coursing through your blood, at your arm. Frustration threatens to overwhelm when you can’t seem to get rid of the lingering stickiness and you quickly turned to watch disinterestedly as the man behind the counter poured Dean’s beer. Scrunching your nose up in slight disgust at your friend’s drink of choice. 

“Not a fan of beer?” The masculine voice suddenly speaking up from your left startled you slightly, some remnant nerves from the hunt making you a little jumpier than usual. 

“Not at all,” you snorted, turning back towards the bar and hoping the curt response would give the stranger next to you a clue. Unfortunately, as was common with men in bars he didn’t seem to catch the hint, sliding in even closer to you. 

“You know I’ve seen you around, this past week,” he stumbled over his words a little, rushing to elaborate when you’d raised a brow at his somewhat creepy statement. Your initial outlook on him changed slightly then, and you allowed yourself to turn and face him fully. He was cute, not at all your usual type. Not Dean.

You quickly banish that thought from your mind. Traveling with the two brother’s for so long meant opportunities like this were few and far between and well, beggars couldn’t be choosers. 

“Yeah, its uh, my last night here actually,” you smiled flirtatiously, leaning on the bar once more this time ignoring the lingering sticky feeling on the skin of your bare arm. 

The man faltered a little at that news but quickly regained his nerve, leaning in so there was hardly any space between the two of you. “Really? Guess I better make the most of it then.” You aren’t given the chance to respond, the flirty retort dying on your tongue when a muscular arm wraps around your shoulders, tugging you into his side so you can smell him. 

“Hey, this asshole bothering you?” His words are punctuated with his signature smirk that you both want to knock right off his face and kiss. Dean’s apple green eyes are gazing over your face, not even bothering to look at the now floundering man standing opposite you. He’s trying to be casual but you can feel the tenseness of his warm body against your side and his usually mischevous eyes are painted just a little too dark to be lighthearted. 

“Hey man -” the stranger, who’s name you hadn’t even gotten, was abruptly cut off by Dean finally turning his now deadly glare towards him. The two stare each other down and though you should be offended by the alpha male bullshit show happening in front of you, you can’t help the way your heart beats furiously against your chest because Dean’s the one doing it. 

“You still here?” Dean scoffed and you watched with just a little bit of sick amusement as the man quickly scampered away, evidently not willing to get into it with the larger man. 

Suddenly coming back to yourself you turned with a raised brows, “Um, what was that?”  Dean simply shrugged, grabbing his beer and attempting to eturn to the booth where Sam was waiting but you weren’t willing to let things slide that easily. Grabbing his arm you spun him back around to face you, arms crossed and eyes narrowed like you were scolding a child. “Dean?”

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he grumbled, still barely looking you in the eye and you scoffed in disbelief. 

“The way he was looking at me?”

“Like you were just a piece of ass.” You rolled your eyes so hard at his hypocrisy that you were afraid they’d fall out of your head. 

“You look at people like that all the time!” 

“Well sorry for trying to look out for you.” He turns away, starting to walk back towards Sam in what you know will be his attempt to pretend the conversation never happened. You know how he works far too well and you’re not willing to back down and let him weasel his way out of this. 

“Right because that’s what you were doing. Looking out for me? Not being an annoying cockblock?” He spins around, fire in his eyes and a nasty sneer on his face that you’d never once seen aimed your way. He stalked back towards you and just as you fear he’s going to continue this ridiculous argument he takes your face in your hands and kisses you. 

Your brain stalls for a few seconds, eyes wide and staring at Dean’s unfairly pretty lashes before he pulls away just as quickly. "I don't like when people touch what's mine." He looks at your deer-in-headlights gaze before smirking so cockily that the urge to smack him rises once more. 

If it was anyone else, you probably would have. Jealousy had never been a trait you'd found attractive in a partner. But like most things, you let it slide, hell you enjoyed it because it was Dean.

Channeling all your pent-up frustration and longing, you pull his face back down against yours and mash your lips against his violently. His hands make quick work of grasping your waist, squeezing just a little as he smirks into the kiss once more. Even after wanting him for so long the action pisses you off even more, and you reward him by biting down on his bottom lip hard. 

Suddenly there’s a hand clasping down on your shoulder and pulling you back from your lip locking shenanigans, “Ok. I think it’s time to go.” You want to cuss Sam out for taking over the role as the family cock block but Dean beats you to it. 

Nonetheless, you follow Sam out to the car like a dejected puppy, which in turn makes Dean follow you, one of his large hands wrapped around your own. When you slide into the backseat the older Winchester follows and you let out a displeased grunt when he squishes you beneath him. Though your displeasure quickly turns into a laugh as he manoueveres you until you’re practically sat atop of him. 

From the drivers seat Sam gags a little, though your pity for him quickly evaporates when Dean pulls you into another kiss and you forget everything else outside the feel of Dean’s lips against yours. 

Luckily for everyone involved, the drive to the dingy motel was short and you barely notice Sam’s hasty exit until the impala door slams shut. “Finally,” Dean groans against the skin of your neck, you’re not entirely sure if he’s talking about Sam leaving or the fact your hands are working on freeing him from his jeans, but you don’t particularly care right now. 

His own hands are making quick work of your clothes, a satisfied grunt escaping him when he finally lays eyes on your bare chest. Mouth dipping to nip at the new expanse of skin on show, “gorgeous, fuck, wanted this for so long,” he pants between kisses and bites. 

“Oh yeah? How long?” High on the power his words have given you, you don’t really give him a fair chance to answer before your hand wraps around the base of his cock. You stroke him leisurely for a few seconds before stopping, heat pooling in your gut when he practically whines. “I asked you a question baby.”

“Fuck.” He whimpers into your ear, hips bucking up into your hand until you force him to stay still with your free hand, “years, since I first saw you in those tight ass jeans.” 

“Guess we better start making up for lost time.” It’s somewhat awkward given the lack of space in the back of the impala, of which Dean’s bulk is taking up most of, but you drop to your knees and take him in your mouth with no warning. 

Dean throws his head back so hard he smacks it against the window but it hardly deters him from letting out a broken moan. “Oh, fuck yes. Just like that baby,” he starts to babble, one hand gripping the front seat of the impala like a life line as the other snakes around the lay on the back of your neck. 

Suddenly his hips buck up once more, causing you to gag and pull back, your hand once again pressing down on his waist to keep him still. At the loss of your touch his eyes fly open, looking down at you in desperation. “You wanna cum? Then be a good boy and stay still,” you command. 

To your surprise he nods frantically at your words, “promise. I’ll be good. I’ll stay still, just please touch me.” There’s a slightly pathetic need in his laboured words that has you impatiently taking his cock back into your mouth, suddenly desperate to pull more of those noises from him. 

You can feel him struggling to stay still below you, his thighs trembling as you bring him rapidly closer to the edge. Swirling your tongue over the tip of his throbbing dick, you take notice of the way his body suddenly tenses, pulling back a little as he cums on your tongue. 

Your hands massage his thighs gently and you give him a few seconds before you pull away, swallowing as Dean watched the action with wide lust blow pupils. The impala reeks of sweat and sex already and is filled with sound of you both attempting to catch your breath. 

Suddenly Dean’s pulling his jeans back up and you only experience a few seconds of confusion and hurt as he awkwardly opens the door. Though he’s quick to assuage you as his hands tug insitently at yours, trying to pull you towards the motel door even faster, “bed, now.”

You don’t fight against that and you definitely don’t fight when he all but shoves you onto the mattress in your temporary room, ducking to his knees before you and tearing your pants down your legs like a man possessed. 

You’ll apologise to Sam for the noise in the morning.

Taglist: @ghostslillady @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jumpofmyclif

[loversofthegrave]

My favourite wincest fics recs

(because it's a duty and a service)

Other Brothers by homo_pink

summary: A callow boy can go from infancy to someone’s lover in the space of two wildflower summers.

reader note: top three favourite fic of all time, thinking of that post 'I'm never not thinking about other brothers by homo_pink' me too. Outisde POV, pre-series sam/dean

Flowers in the Impala by Evandar

summary: Kate wants them to be a family - really, she does - but there's something wrong with John's boys.

reader note: oh it's a delicious outside POV of how fucking weird our boys are. Pre-series sam/dean

Squint into the Sunset | Glare into the Gloaming by Dyed_Red

summary: The 70k-word nonlinear coming of age story that literally no one asked for.

"I know you want to give him the world, Dean, but you were never supposed to give him this."

reader note: I feel like this is an underrated fic, I really enjoyed it and I'd put it up there with the invisible boy series!

Howls in my bones by weefaol

summary: When John gets a call to investigate a series of grisly animal killings, he drops Sam and Dean at an abandoned cabin two towns over. The boys find ways to keep busy — playing cards, watching movies, chopping wood — but with a howling winter storm on the way, there’s nowhere for Sam to hide his illicit feelings for his older brother.

As the lure of desire threatens to devour him, Sam must learn to face the wolves that lurk outside and the monsters within.

reader note: so beautiful, one of my favourites. pre-series sam/dean

Letters from a Half-Finished Boy by homo_pink

summary: Dean discovers a secret journal Sammy's been writing in.

reader note: homo_pink again, I love all their spn fics. Oh angst teenage sammy I love you

Hot singles in your area by applecrumbledore

summary: In the video, the camera crawled up the kid’s body like a pair of lascivious eyes. The pan upwards revealed a sweet, pointed nose, and a mole to the left side of that nose.

Dean froze, watching. The kid’s eyes opened when the camera was still on his face, pupils darting nervously away, and those eyes were hazel green. A specific kind of hazel green that Dean had spent exactly thirty-six years looking at.

readers note: obsessed with the way Dean hunts down the guy Sam did porn with 21 years ago or so it's so canonically dean like that's exactly what he would do

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 31

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 5.1K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

You hated the way these shoes felt. The House of Wind had generously provided a pair of stunning blue pumps, but it had overlooked one crucial fact: you had about as much experience walking in heels as a baby fawn. The woods had not exactly trained you for this. You took a tentative step across your room, feeling your toes smash into the front of the shoes. While you were pleasantly surprised by your ability to balance, each mild shuffle felt like you were torturing your feet. You huffed, plopping down on the edge of the bed, your gown fanning out around you like a defeated banner as you blew a stray tendril of hair from your face.

Leaning down, you hiked the skirt up around your thighs, yanking your already reddened toes from their tiny prisons. From the doorway came a familiar chuckle, and when you glanced up, Azriel stood there, arms crossed, his wings casually fanned out behind him.

Straightening, you sat up with the shoes in hand before chucking them onto the carpet, where one heel clattered over the other. “Those are a death trap,” you declared, pointing at the offending objects.

“I could hear you cursing at them all the way down the hall,” he said, strolling over to sit next to you on the bed.

You dropped your hands into your lap, looking up at him with an exaggerated pout. “How are things downstairs?”

Azriel snorted lightly, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Oh, you know, the usual chaos. Cassian decided to wear a different suit than the one Nesta picked out for him. Now she’s following him around, threatening to kill him in his sleep if he doesn’t change back.”

You laughed quietly, “That’s about what I expected. Anyone else here?”

Azriel rubbed his hands on his thighs, trying to dry some anxious sweat. “Elain and Lucien arrived a little while ago.”

“How’s Lucien?” you asked, curiosity piqued. Lucien had been very quiet about the ball, likely due to the complicated and still-tentative relationship between the Night and Autumn Courts.

Lucien had been navigating the treacherous waters of familial politics, attempting to reconnect with his estranged brothers. Since Eris had taken over the High Lordship—thanks to a mysteriously convenient assassination of their father—he’d been trying to mend fences with the rest of their testosterone-charged family. From what Elain had shared, Lucien and she had been attending various Autumn Court events and “family dinners,” which typically ended in a shouting match between one or more of the volatile males at the table. The couple often left before dessert, much to everyone’s relief.

Lucien’s reintegration into the Autumn Court had been rocky, to say the least. Many courtiers still viewed him with suspicion, especially after the revelation of his true paternity involving Helion. The court, with its rigid emphasis on bloodline purity, wasn’t exactly rolling out the welcome mat for him. His status was a delicate issue, and despite Eris’s attempts to shield him, Lucien was perpetually walking on eggshells.

You hadn’t yet had the pleasure—or the burden—of meeting Eris or any of Lucien’s other brothers. Tonight marked the first time Eris would attend a formal event at the House of Wind, and the stress of this high-stakes gathering was palpable. You could almost hear the collective holding of breath echoing through the grand halls.

Azriel chuckled, interrupting your thoughts. “Lucien’s playing it cool, but you can tell he’s a bit on edge. It’s like watching a fox trying to pretend it’s a housecat.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “What about you?” you asked, peering up at Azriel. He stared ahead toward the door, his usually calm demeanor slightly off-kilter. You could hear his heartbeat pumping faster than its normal steady cadence.

Azriel shook his head, his lips pressing together in a thin line. “I’m fine,” he said, though his tone betrayed a hint of unease.

You kept your gaze on him. This was one of the few times you’d seen Azriel genuinely unsettled, his usual composure slipping. “You sure?” you probed lightly, eyebrows raised in playful skepticism.

Azriel remained focused on the doorway, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Your heart is beating quickly,” you replied, noting the slight rise and fall of his chest as he took a few steadying breaths, clearly trying to keep you from noticing. “You’re being more aloof than usual.”

Azriel’s brow furrowed, and he tilted his head, a mild offense coloring his expression. “Aloof?” He turned to face you, his brows knitting together. “I’m not aloof.”

You tilted your head to the side, your eyes widening with exaggerated incredulity. “Oh, come on.”

Azriel leaned forward, his dark eyes glinting with mock seriousness. “No, what do you mean by aloof? I’m not aloof.”

You pushed yourself up from the bed, rolling your eyes dramatically, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Mr. ‘I use my shadows to eavesdrop on conversations and hide from groups of people’ thinks he isn’t aloof?” You made your way into the closet, hoping to find footwear that didn’t feel like medieval torture devices.

Azriel’s voice followed you, slightly indignant. “It’s my job!”

You squatted in front of the shoe rack, lined with elegant but impractical heels you had no intention of wearing. “Isn’t there a saying that if you love what you do, you never work a day in your life?” you called back, your fingers brushing over the backs of the shoes.

With a soft, almost magical rustle, a pair of midnight blue flats with a subtle orange shimmer appeared at the end of the shelf. You glanced upwards, a smile playing on your lips as you whispered a quiet thank you to the House.

Slipping them on, you sighed in relief, feeling like you’d been freed from a mini prison. You straightened your dress and walked back into the main room where Azriel now lay sprawled out on the bed, his legs dangling over the edge, feet touching the floor, his back and wings spread across the blankets as he stared at the ceiling.

He glanced sideways at you, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You really think I’m aloof?”

You rolled your eyes again, walking over and wrapping your hand around the bedpost. “I think you’re introverted,” you replied, leaning your head against the wood, a teasing glint in your eyes. “And I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“Doesn’t that just make me charming and mysterious?” he asked, winking mischievously.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “If you have to plant the seed of charm and mystery in someone’s head, I think that answers your own question.” You pushed off the bedpost, moving to check yourself in the mirror.

The reflection staring back at you was almost unrecognizable. Your cheeks, once gaunt and shadowed, now had a healthy, rosy hue. Your eyes, once dull and lifeless, sparkled with a light you hadn’t seen in ages. The dark circles that had seemed a permanent fixture had faded. You looked more alive, and it was a feeling you were still trying to get used to.

You heard the rustle of the bed as Azriel sat up. Glancing at him in the mirror, you threw him a small smile. “I just want to make sure you’re doing okay,” you said.

Azriel met your gaze in the reflection, his expression softening. “I should be the one worried about you,” he replied, rising and pulling down the legs of his pants, straightening his jacket over his broad shoulders.

You turned to face him, leaning your hips against the dressing table, hands braced on either side. “Doesn’t mean I can’t also be concerned about your wellbeing.”

Azriel gave a tight smile, a hint of gratitude in his eyes. “I just don’t love these parties.”

Your own amused smile glimmered to your face as you crossed the room to him, your hands reaching up to straighten the collar of his jacket. The fabric was smooth and cool under your fingers, and you noticed the subtle blue threads woven into the dark cloth, catching the light with a gentle shimmer. Azriel’s eyes softened further, following your movements with a warmth that sent a flutter through your chest.

Satisfied with the collar’s alignment, you met his gaze, his eyes lingering on you with a gentle intensity. You patted his chest, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath the finely tailored suit. “That’s the aloof part coming out.”

Azriel scoffed, rolling his eyes and pushing back slightly, though his lips twitched in a reluctant smile. “I prefer enigmatic.”

You laughed lightly, gripping his arm as he tried to pull away. “I’m sorry,” you drawled playfully. “Just was an easy shot.” You held onto his jacket a bit tighter as he pulled you to him, wrapping you in a bear hug. The warmth of his body seeped through the fabric.

“You’re insufferable,” he whispered, shaking you lightly, the vibrations making you giggle.

“And yet you suffer me,” you retorted, your face buried in his chest, muffling your laughter against the soft fabric.

Azriel released you, “Every day is a new day of suffering when you’re around,” he teased back.

From down the hall, the faint strains of violins and piano floated up the stairs, their melodies intertwining in a harmonious dance. 

Azriel sighed, looking down at you with a tight smile, though his eyes betrayed his amusement. “We should go down.”

You nodded as Azriel extended his elbow to you, the gesture almost comically formal. You stared at it, one brow arching incredulously. “Are we really these kinds of fae now?”

“Well, might as well put on a good show,” he responded, his lips quirking into a playful grin.

Wrapping your hands around his forearm, you felt the solid strength beneath his sleeve, the warmth of his skin through the fabric. His muscles relaxed slightly as your fingers pressed into him.

You and Azriel stepped out of the room, the soft glow of faelights casting a gentle sheen on the polished floorboards as you walked down the hall towards the source of the merry strains. The music grew louder, filling the air with a sense of festivity.

“I feel ridiculous,” you whispered, the dress rustling softly with each step.

“You should see how you look,” Azriel taunted, his tone light and teasing.

You gave him a hearty elbow in the stomach, feeling the firmness of his muscles under your nudge, though it barely moved him. “Kidding,” he quickly followed up, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “You look great.”

As you and Azriel descended the sweeping marble staircase, the strains of music grew ever more pronounced, each note reverberating through the grand hall and mingling with the fluttering of your heartbeat. The staircase was bathed in the soft glow of faelight, casting intricate patterns on the polished stone beneath your feet, and the opulent banister, adorned with golden filigree, gleamed in the ambient light. Azriel’s reassuring squeeze on your hand anchored you as you reached the bottom.

You pushed open the ornate double doors to the grand ballroom, your breath catching in your chest at the sight that unfolded before you. While you had been involved with the planning and decorations, the transformation of the space was nothing short of breathtaking. The room was a living, breathing embodiment of elegance, a symphony of colors, lights, and textures that seemed to pulse with a life of its own.

The ceiling soared above you, draped with cascading garlands of autumn leaves, their hues shifting from deep crimson to burnished gold, interwoven with shimmering strands of faelight. Chandeliers hung like glittering constellations, their crystal prisms scattering light in a thousand rainbows that danced across the gleaming floor. The walls were lined with tall, arched windows, their mullions draped in rich velvet curtains of deep blue.

The great hall was alive with movement and music, the harmonious melodies of violins and a grand piano filling the air, their notes weaving through the laughter and conversations of the fae in attendance. Fae of all courts glided across the floor in a whirlwind of flowing gowns and finely tailored suits, the vibrant fabrics swishing and swirling in time with the music. The variety of attire was dazzling, each ensemble more intricate and resplendent than the last.

You marveled at the Autumn Court attendees, their attire reflecting the splendor of their season. Gowns of fiery red, rich burgundy, and shimmering gold adorned the fae, their outfits detailed with delicate embroidery depicting leaves and vines, and accented with gemstones that sparkled like embers. The Night Court fae wore attire that mirrored the midnight sky, with deep blues, blacks, and silvers, their clothing often adorned with subtle, luminescent patterns that caught the light like distant stars. Spring courtiers flashed about in pastels and soft silks, while Day court attendees were drenched in golden jewelry.

You took in the sight of the dancers, their movements graceful and fluid as they twirled and spun across the floor. The room was a kaleidoscope of motion, the fae weaving in and out, their laughter a musical accompaniment to the live orchestra that played on a raised platform. Couples waltzed beneath the glittering chandeliers, their steps perfectly synchronized with the lilting strains of the music, their faces illuminated with joy.

Azriel’s hand tightened around yours, pulling you gently from your reverie. He led you into the room, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the overwhelming splendor. His eyes, always sharp and vigilant, softened as he took in your wide-eyed wonder. “You look like you’ve seen magic for the first time,” he murmured, his voice carrying a note of fond amusement.

Your gaze darted around the room, trying to absorb every detail. “It’s just… it’s so much more than I imagined,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Azriel smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Nesta outdid herself, didn’t she?”

You nodded, your eyes tracing the path of a garland that wove its way around the towering columns, each leaf seeming to flutter in an unseen breeze. “She did,” you agreed, your voice filled with awe. “It’s like stepping into a dream.”

It seemed that merely speaking her name conjured her, as Nesta, the ever-diligent hostess, glided through the throng of partygoers. Her face lit up in a bright smile the moment she spotted you, her eyes sparkling under the golden faelight. Her gown was nothing short of breathtaking: a flowing cream masterpiece with a high neckline and intricate pearl embroidery that darkened elegantly as it reached her neck. Her hair was an intricate marvel of its own, braided into a low bun adorned with tiny golden stars that shimmered delicately between the plaits.

“Y/N!” she greeted, her voice breaking into a smile as she reached out and clasped your hands, her touch warm and reassuring. “You look stunning!” she exclaimed, stepping back to take in your ensemble, her eyes dancing with delight as she looked you up and down.

“Look at you?!” you countered, motioning with a sweep of your hand over her exquisite gown.

Nesta smirked, gracefully lifting the skirt of her dress and giving it a playful twirl. “Isn’t it gorgeous?” she said, her voice brimming with pride and amusement.

From behind you, Azriel chimed in, his tone softer, “You look beautiful, Nesta.”

Nesta’s gaze shifted over your shoulder, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in Azriel’s appearance. Her tongue pressed into her cheek, and a mischievous glint lit up her eyes. “Well, well, well, the Shadowsinger cleans up nicely.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Nesta’s expression softened, her smile turning genuine as she gave Azriel an appreciative nod. “You look great, Az.” Then, her attention snapped back to you. She lifted the upper skirt of your dress lightly, examining the material with a keen eye. “The House really outdid itself, didn’t it?”

You felt a small rush of gratitude, though it quickly turned to mild embarrassment as Nesta’s eyes narrowed slightly, her brows knitting together when she noticed your lack of heels.

You quickly smoothed down the dress, offering her an apologetic smile. “I couldn’t do the shoes.”

Nesta's eyes twinkled with amusement as she tilted her head. “I’m just impressed you convinced it to let you wear flats. The House usually prefers heels.”

You sighed in relief, your shoulders relaxing. “Well, I think it saw me struggling to take steps and decided not to let me scuff the floors all night.”

Nesta laughed, the sound warm and light. “I guess I’ll have to complain more.” She glanced over your shoulder, her eyes catching someone’s attention as she raised a hand to wave. “I have to do the rounds,” she said, already moving away, her attention shifting to the fae she was flagging down. “But I’ll see you a little later?”

You nodded, returning her smile. “Definitely.”

As she disappeared into the crowd, you turned to find Azriel leaning casually against the wall, his posture relaxed yet alert, his eyes scanning the sea of bodies. You joined him, standing close to his side. “I said hi to Nesta. Can we leave now?” you joked, a playful tone in your voice.

“I wish,” he grumbled, though his eyes softened as he looked at you.

You took a moment to absorb the scene, the room alive with color and movement. Gowns of deep emeralds, shimmering golds, and striking crimsons twirled in the warm glow of the chandeliers. The soft strains of violins wove through the air, mingling with the quiet hum of laughter and conversation. It felt as if you had stepped into a painting.

As you turned to comment, Azriel muttered something under his breath, his eyes narrowing. Before you could ask, he gently grasped your arm, pulling you closer with a surprising urgency.

You were about to protest when another male approached, cutting a striking figure in a white tunic with a low-cut V-neck, embroidered with swirling red and orange leaves along the collar, and a deep maroon jacket that framed his muscular frame. His skin, a creamy canvas, was freckled like a dusting of autumn leaves. The voice that crooned like smoldering embers purred, “Azriel. It’s been too long.”

You glanced up, taking in the male’s sharp, chiseled features—a jawline as defined as his toned chest, russet eyes flecked with gold, and ginger curls styled back with a hint of rebellion. His lower lip, full and inviting, curved into a smile that revealed dimples at the corners, adding a touch of charm to his otherwise imposing presence.

Azriel’s grip on your arm tightened slightly, a barely audible growl rumbling in his throat. The red-haired male’s grin was sharp, laced with a poison that seemed designed to provoke Azriel.

“Philip,” Azriel responded, his voice strained, almost choking on the name.

Philip’s eyes flicked over Azriel with predatory ease, sizing him up with a single glance. “You look halfway decent,” he said, his tone dripping with calculated condescension.

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his response terse, “As do you.”

Philip’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes lingering on where Azriel’s hand rested on your arm, as if he were contemplating where to place his own claim. His smile widened into a feline curl. “And who is this,” he paused, eyes sweeping over you, “stunning creature?”

Azriel took a deep, steadying breath, his fingers tracing the length of your arm to settle possessively on your lower back. “This is Y/N,” he said, his voice firm yet restrained, his jaw clenching ever so slightly.

Philip’s smile broadened, his long fingers extending towards you. “Exquisite,” he murmured, lifting your hand and pressing a kiss to it that lingered just a fraction too long. Azriel’s muscles tensed beside you, his grip tightening as Philip’s lips touched your skin.

When Philip straightened, his eyes darted back to Azriel, a flicker of satisfaction in their depths. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you?” he purred, his voice a silken caress.

Azriel exhaled sharply through his nose, his breath a barely restrained growl. “I’m a friend of Nesta’s,” you interjected, your smile syrupy sweet. You sensed the animosity crackling between the two males and refused to become a pawn in their unspoken battle.

Philip’s auburn brows arched, his head tilting in feigned curiosity. “I wasn’t aware Nesta kept such,” his gaze swept over you again, “delectable company.”

Your smile turned razor-sharp, your voice laced with saccharine defiance. “I like to think I elevate her tastes.”

Philip’s eyes glittered with amusement, his smile twisting into something more predatory. “Azriel,” he said, his tone almost playful, as he shifted his attention back to the Shadowsinger, “would you mind if I borrowed this,” his eyes flicked back to you, “most enchanting creature for a dance?”

Azriel’s jaw clenched visibly, his eyes narrowing as he fought to keep his composure. “Actually,” he began, his voice low and measured, “we were just about to—”

You placed a hand on Azriel’s chest, feeling the tension radiating from him. “It’s alright,” you said softly, though your eyes remained locked on Philip’s. “I wouldn’t want to deprive him of a dance.”

You felt Azriel’s fingers flex lightly on your back, a silent plea for caution. Before he could respond, you cut in, your voice laced with a subtle challenge, “I’m sure I don’t need Azriel to give me permission.”

Philip’s smile widened, a wolfish grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Quite right,” he purred, extending his hand with an elegant, yet predatory flourish. You slipped your own into his grip, which tightened more than you liked, a vice masked as politeness. As he led you into the undulating crowd, you glanced back at Azriel. His eyes blazed, shadows pooling around his feet, his jaw set in a rigid line. You gave him a small nod, brows arching in reassurance, though it felt like a lie even to yourself.

Philip maneuvered you through the mass of swirling fae, his hand sliding possessively low on your hip, just shy of indecency. The kiss he planted on your hand was a charade of gallantry, a veneer over his palpable menace. He drew you close, the fabric of your dress whispering as it brushed against his maroon jacket, which seemed almost aflame under the ballroom’s lights.

His gaze pierced yours, an intensity that made your skin prickle. “So, why are you really here?” he murmured, his breath warm and dangerously close to your ear.

You moved with calculated grace, the swish of your dress a soft counterpoint to the music. “I’m sorry?” you replied, maintaining an air of innocent confusion.

“You’re not a court member,” Philip continued, his eyes flicking over you, assessing. “I’ve never seen nor heard of you. Your dancing lacks formal training,” he added, his voice dripping with condescension, “and you’re not even wearing heels.” His gaze flicked to your flats, though you resisted the urge to look down. “But most intriguingly, Azriel seems to have an interest in you. So, tell me, how did you infiltrate this social circle?”

The sugary sweetness in your tone dissipated, replaced by a cold edge. “Are you implying that I don’t belong here?”

Philip spun you into a light twirl, his grip tightening as you moved. “I’m simply saying it’s curious that the Night Court is now taking in strays.”

You swallowed the sting of his words, your voice icy. “Perhaps I’m just good company.”

“Oh, undoubtedly,” Philip conceded, his smile curling like smoke. “But good company doesn’t grant one the right to sit at the high lord and lady’s table.”

You matched his calculated turn with your own precision. “I’m not at their table.”

“But you’re living in their home,” he countered smoothly, pulling you closer, his chest brushing against yours. His eyes bore down on you, every inch the predator.

“Nesta and Cassian’s home,” you corrected sharply, trying to create even a semblance of space between you, though his grip remained ironclad.

Philip’s gaze never wavered, his expression one of calculated menace. “And what exactly is your business with Azriel?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, your heart pounding, your composure slipping for just a fraction of a second.

A low growl rumbled from Philip’s chest. “My initial question was how much he was paying for your company tonight.”

The shock of his words hit you like a blow, but you recovered swiftly, though your pulse thundered in your ears. Your voice as sharp as broken glass. “I appreciate that you think I would be worth paying for, but I’m afraid I’m not in that business.”

Philip's purr deepened, an unsettling sound as he spun you again, his grip unyielding. “How much would you charge?” he asked, his words laced with a sickly sweetness that made your skin crawl.

“More than you could afford,” you snapped back, your smile a brittle veneer as he pulled you into him once more, the heat of his body oppressive.

“You may underestimate my affluence,” Philip countered, his voice a dangerous whisper.

“Philip,” you retorted, spinning out and back in, your movements more forceful. “There’s no amount in the world that would make me climb into your bed.”

For a moment, his mask slipped, irritation flashing across his face before he smoothed it away, his predatory smile reasserting itself. “You think highly of yourself.”

You lifted your chin defiantly. “Like I said, I elevate Nesta’s standards.”

“Indeed,” Philip said, his teeth flashing in a grin that was all sharp edges.

The music tapered off, the notes fading into a hum as applause rippled through the ballroom. Yet, Philip’s hold on you didn’t loosen, his eyes locked onto yours in a predatory stare, each of you testing the other’s resolve.

A familiar voice, deep and commanding, cut through the tension. “Philip,” Cassian announced, his presence a sudden, imposing shadow behind you.

Philip’s eyes flicked up above your head, his cocky grin faltering as Cassian loomed behind you, a massive figure even compared to the imposing Autumn Court heir. “Cassian,” Philip greeted, his tone strained but polite.

“I’ve been sent to retrieve this one,” Cassian announced, his heavy, reassuring hand settling on your shoulder like a comforting anchor.

Philip’s gaze returned to you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he was trying to find a reason to hold on just a bit longer. The rumble of his voice vibrated through you. “Well then, thank you for the dance,” he purred, the murmur originating from deep within his chest where it pressed against yours.

You felt an odd mix of relief and lingering discomfort as Philip finally released you, the phantom sensation of his hands still lingering on your hips and back. You stumbled slightly into Cassian, who steadied you with his hands, broad and firm, gripping your shoulders. “The pleasure was all mine,” Philip finished, his voice dripping with false sincerity.

Cassian turned you from Philip, effectively blocking him from your view with his substantial frame. The sensation of taking your first full breath in what felt like ages was almost overwhelming. Had you even breathed since you set foot on the dance floor? You weren’t sure.

Cassian leaned in, his voice low and reassuring, “Way to hold your own out there.” You could hear the amusement in his tone, a contrast to the dread still buzzing in your veins.

As you navigated through the crowd, which parted effortlessly before Cassian like waves before a ship, you scanned the sea of faces for Nesta, expecting her to be at your destination. But instead, the crowd parted to reveal Azriel, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a shadow of tension easing from his features as his eyes found yours.

Turning to Cassian, who, you now noticed, wore a suit that clashed hilariously with Nesta’s meticulously chosen ensemble, you asked, “Didn’t Nesta need something?”

Cassian chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through his chest. “I have no clue. I’ve been avoiding her all night.” He steered you right up to Azriel, flashing him a triumphant grin. “Mission accomplished.”

Azriel merely rolled his eyes, though his posture relaxed a fraction. “What mission?” you asked, still feeling the residual tremor in your voice.

“The one where I get you away from Philip so Azriel doesn’t rip his spinal cord out and beat him with it,” Cassian replied cheerfully, clapping a hand on your shoulder as if you’d just completed a particularly grueling training session.

Azriel let out an exasperated scoff, his eyes darting to you with a mixture of apology and frustration. “No, I asked you to see if they were almost done dancing.”

Cassian shrugged, holding out his hands in mock innocence. “You asked me to ‘check in’ and ‘intervene’ if I thought things were going poorly. With my expert training,” he puffed his chest out slightly, a theatrical gesture, “I assumed things weren’t going well.”

You felt Cassian’s grip loosen slightly as he craned his neck around. “I gotta go,” he said hurriedly, his eyes wide with a flash of panic. He quickly melted back into the throng of party-goers.

Turning to see why he left so abruptly, you spotted Nesta bearing down on him with a glare that could cut diamonds. Her eyes were narrowed, a storm brewing behind them. It was clear that Cassian had sensed the oncoming tempest and had wisely chosen to make a swift exit.

You shifted your gaze back to Azriel, who was chewing on his lower lip, his leg bouncing restlessly against the wall. His eyes met yours, concern etched into his expression. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and gentle.

You nodded, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you. “Yeah.”

Azriel’s gaze sharpened, reading the unease in your stance. “Need a break?” he suggested, his tone laced with understanding.

You nodded again, more fervently this time.

“Let’s go get some air,” Azriel said, his voice soothing as he pushed off the wall. His hand found its way to your lower back, guiding you gently but firmly. The warmth of his touch was a stark contrast to the lingering chill left by Philip, and though you flinched slightly at first, you allowed Azriel’s hand to remain there.

He steered you through the crowd, his path straight and purposeful. The swirl of colors and the murmur of conversations blurred around you as you focused on the cool promise of the outdoors. Azriel navigated through the sea of fae with ease, his hand never leaving your back.

Reaching a set of glass balcony doors, he pushed one open, and the rush of cool air hit you like a soothing balm. The tension that had coiled around you inside the ballroom began to unravel. You stepped out onto the balcony, the night air crisp and refreshing against your heated skin. The moonlight bathed the balcony in a soft glow, casting long shadows that danced gently with the breeze and as you took a slow breath out, the tendrils of mist curled out into the night. 

To my readers, I promise I will get consistent with my 12:00 posting again. Life has just thrown a few curveballs my way: @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @405rry @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra @skylarkalchemist @darling006 @rhysandorian @loglady00 @caninne

[beingsuneone]

Tragedy

PART ONE | PART TWO

SYNOPSIS: You hadn’t lived in the Spring Court for a long time, not since the Night Court murdered your entire family except yourself and your brother, Tamlin. You don’t think about it much, except when you argue with Rhysand, when it becomes a threat. You always promise him that you’re sick of him and you’re going to return to Spring but you never do. Until you do.

FANDOM: A Court Of Thorns And Roses

PAIRING(S): Rhysand x Tamlin’s Sister!Fem!Reader

RATING: G

CHARACTERS MENTIONED: Cassian, Azriel, Tamlin, Mor, Amren

GENRE/AU: Pre-Amarantha/cusp of, some fluff, some angst, Lost Royalty Au (Tamlin’s lost Sister)

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

WARNINGS: Physical Violence (thanks Tam), mentions of arguments. LITERAL PHYSICAL ABUSE. TAMLIN SLAPS YOU.

A/N: the dividers looks best on dark mode, also dividers and header made my me :) also, this is both the first thing I’ve finished and the first fic I’ve posted since last year!! (My old fics aren’t up anymore) I reeeallly wanna write a pt 2.

DEDICATIONS: n/a

CREDITS: n/a

The snow crunches softly under your feet, which are already halfway to freezing and you’re only fifty paces outside of the townhouse.

You’d just had another fight with Rhysand and had threatened— for the millionth time— that you were going to return to Spring Court and live with your brother, Tamlin. The only member of your blood family still alive.

Both Rhysand and yourself know it’s not true. You’ve never made it down the first street in Velaris before you’re crawling back and begging Rhysand to forgive you. (Or visca versa)

Partly because you love him and largely because you’re terrified to return to Spring, No matter how petty your pride wishes to be.

When you were a young Fae, you had gone for a walk in the garden with your guard; It was late at night and you had been up due to nightmares. However, when you got closer to the Manor in Spring you heard a distinct scream and several loud noises, and your guard had immediately herded you as far as he could from the manor. All the way out of spring, and through the wall.

There, you were shunned by humans, and hunted by many; until a small family took you in, not caring about your pointy ears or inhuman beauty. They didn’t mind the flowers you magicked into existence or how you made their human babies laugh by shape-shifting. You were never dangerous to them, so they protected you until the day they died.

That was the day you returned to Prythian, mourning the loss of the only real family you had ever known.

Eventually you ended up in Night Court, wandering aimlessly around the vast nothingness of the court; you wondered why such a large and powerful court would seem to have almost no Fae in it— or even civilizations, for that matter. All you could see for miles and miles was mountains, trees, grass… anything in nature but no Fae.

You settled into a cave on the side of a cliff and foraged whatever food you could find. It wasn’t much but it kept you alive.

Until one day, a large winged man at the entrance of the cave, scared the ever-loving shit out of you.

“Oh- my Cauldron!” You had exclaimed, staring at who you now know to be Cassian.

He had given you a weird look and rudely remarked. “You’re awfully small for a Fae.” Then he amended, “although Amren is much smaller.”

You hadn’t known who Amren was, or what in the world he was talking about. “Who are you?” You asked him skeptically.

Cassian had opened his mouth to reply but then Rhysand walked through the door.

“I feel we should be asking you the same question.” He said smoothly. You had been immediately taken by him, his Deep Purple eyes and shadowy aura.

So much so, you almost hadn’t noticed the Mating Bond snapping into place.

Your eyes widened and one of his twitched as his cool expression dropped a moment. Rhysand, as good as he is at masks, wiped his emotions from his face a moment later.

He said, “Why don't you come along with us and tell us along the way.” He had paused and looked you up and down. “Certainly, it will be better than staying in this cave?”

You had just stumbled to your feet and nodded, taking Rhysand’s hand when he had extended to you.

That’s the moment that breaks you every time, what makes you turn right back around into Rhysand’s arms.

You remind yourself that he’s been with you for centuries now and he’s helped you heal more than you ever could on your own.

He’s the one who told you, despite his history with your family, that Tamlin was still alive; he was honest about his Family’s and his involvement in your family’s murder.

It had been hard not to hold it against him but you eventually forgave the man he is, not the kid he used to be. Besides, Spring had killed his family first, so, you supposed it had become an even playing field.

“Love,” Rhysand’s voice comes from behind you. “Please come back, I’m sorry.”

You turn around slowly, your eyes stinging with tears that threaten to flow. “Why do I do this every time?”

He sighs, and gently laces his fingers with yours. “We don’t think rationally when we’re arguing, Darling. It’s okay,” He pulls you closer and you feel yourself relax.

“Besides,” he continues. “I think you should go visit your brother— as much as I hate the thought of it.”

You pull back and look up at him. “Surely, he can’t have grown to be that terrible, Rhysand, he was a good brother when I left.” You think back to before you’d left but it’s so long ago it feels a bit blurry and out-of-reach. “Maybe inattentive but certainly not mean.”

Rhysand looks into your eyes, there’s an emotion loaded in his that you don’t take the time to decipher it because you aren’t sure you want to know. “My personal feelings skew how I see him, Darling, you have to see for yourself.” He pushes a stand of hair out of your face, and gently kisses your forehead. “Maybe it will be different with his own sister.”

You rest your forehead on his chest and he wraps his arms around your waist.

“Can we go back inside now?” You ask quietly. “My feet are freezing.”

Rhysand just chuckles and disconnects from you, save for taking one of your hands and leading you back towards the townhouse. “My love, next time you threaten to run away, please wear a coat and proper shoes.” He says playfully, flashes you a teasing smile.

You mock-glare at him, but can’t stop the smile that spreads on your face. “No, actually, I think I’d quite like to freeze to death before I ever make it out of Night.”

“Of course you would.”

…..

“How far you make it this time?” Cassian smiles when you and Rhysand walk in the door, Azriel is already building a fire and Mor is smiling brightly in a chair in front of the budding flame. Amren is sitting in one of the other chairs grumbling about the lack of good blood to drink or something— you loved her but she’d always confused you.

“Didn’t make it down the block.” Rhysand says back to Cassian, before he sits you down in front of the fire to warm up.

You shrug him off, not needing him to baby you. “Knock it off, Cassian.” You say roughly, not actually mad but feeling even colder now that you’re in a warm space. You turn your head back to Rhysand, who's already leaning on a wall across the room. “And you, Mister Automatic-Heater, come back here.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He says as Mor snickers at you. Rhysand sits down next to you and pulls you into him, using his magic to warm you up. You both know the fire never works fast enough.

You sit there for a long time, just lost in Rhysand’s presence, long enough that the others clear the room and go off to do their own things.

It’s only when everyone is finally out of earshot that Rhysand leans down, brushes his lips against the shell of your ear and whispers, “I love you, darling.”

You shiver and turn your head to face him before you place a kiss on his cheek and whisper back, “I love you more.”

“Impossible.” He shakes his head, pulling your face upwards, with two fingers under your jaw and his thumb under your chin.

You reach a hand over his and brush his hair out of his face, before you push his arm down and settle your hand on his cheek.

Then, you press your lips to his.

…..

“Okay,” Rhysand sighs, you know he’s nervous about leaving you here. “I probably shouldn’t enter Spring, so I’ll wait here. Use the bond if you need me, please.”

You place a hand on his cheek, and get closer to him. “Rhysand, I promise you, I’ll be okay.” You swipe your thumb soothingly on his cheeks. “I have to do this.”

He nods, placing his own hand over yours, while nuzzling into your hand. “I know, my love, you can absolutely handle yourself.” He pulls back, and gives you a reassuring smile. “Alright, go.”

You nod your head once and walk over the border to Spring; before you take another step, you turn back. “I love you, Rhysand.” You say, assuredly. The words have more weight to them than normal, like you’re trying to convince both yourself and Rhysand that everything is going be alright.

Luckily, the Manor rests right on one of the edges of spring, so it’s easy to find after all this time.

After a few minutes, you reach the front gates. A guard tilts his spear into your path so you have to stop.

“What is your business here?” He says gruffly.

You straighten your back and try to find the most regal parts of yourself. “I am Y/N of spring court, High Lord, Tamlin’s sister.” You're sure you said it so demandingly that he’d just let you in but the guard just looks you up and down.

“Spring Court High Fae… In Night Court Clothes?” He shakes his head. “Plus our Y/N died several Centuries ago.”

You sigh. “I don’t need to convince you, I just need to speak to Tamlin. Please.”

The guard stamps his spear, as if to tell you to go away.

So, you pull out your last playing card. “Okay, Fine. As the High Lady of the Night Court, I demand a meeting with your High Lord.” You pause. “Unless you’d like to directly deny both myself and my High Lord?”

This sends the guard into a tizzy. He opens the gate and leads you inside. He abandons you there though, and leaves you with a red-haired man.

“Who are you?” You ask.

He raises an eyebrow. “I am Lucien. Who are you, and how did you convince the guard to let you in?”

You straighten up once again. “I am Tamlin’s sister, Y/n.”

He looks you up and down and gives you a ‘you’re joking, right?’ Look. “You’re in Night Court clothes.”

You throw your arms in the air and let them fall back down. “Yes, thank you for stating the obvious. Obviously, I believed all my family to be dead and sought a home elsewhere.”

“In the Night Court. The home of the people who killed your family.” His voice is flat.

“I ended up there, but it is not where I originally went. My personal guard, Claude, took me to the human world to keep me safe from the previous High Lord of the Night Court. He was hunted down for being Fae.” You stop, feeling the annoyance bubbling under your skin; still, Lucien looks as though you’ve just spun an elaborate story. “Just let me see Tamlin, he will recognize me.”

Lucien doesn’t move.

You continue. “Do not make me use my status again please.”

This catches his attention. “What status? because if you really are from Spring Court, you certainly don’t have any.”

Rolling your eyes, you pull out the ‘High Lady’ card, once again. “If you must know, and I’d much prefer you leave me to tell this to Tamlin, but I am the High Lady of the Night Court, and that is how I got inside.” You stare at him for a moment. “Can I see my brother now, or must I find him myself?”

Lucien practically scoffs at this point. “Now I really don’t believe you. It’s unbelievable enough that Tamlin’s sister would live in Night Court but, High Lady? That is not even a real title.”

You are really starting to get annoyed. “Okay, well, first, I didn’t even know that Night Court was the one to kill my family until I’d already met Rhysand, and second, we’re mates! I don’t really get to choose that, do I?”

You’re about to say something else but you stop. “Why in the world am I arguing with you. I don’t even know you. Where is Tamlin?”

“I’m right here.” A new voice enters the conversation; it’s deep but familiar, and there’s a new edge to it that makes your skin crawl.

When you turn to face him, he stops in his tracks. His eyes widen a fraction, and his lips purse.

“Y/n?” He says, taking a tentative step towards you. “Is that you?”

You sigh in relief. “Yes, it is. Although I’ve had a hard time convincing everyone else of that.” You close the gap between yourself and your brother and hug him.

“I thought you were dead.” He says quietly. “We never found your body. I assumed the awful Night Court took your body just as our father took their wings.”

You freeze at the mention of the wings. They are Rhysand’s Mother’s and Sister’s wings. Then Tamlin seems to notice my attire. The air turns cold, a power you thought only Rhysand and maybe the Winter Court possessed.

“Why are you wearing Night Court clothes?” He says, tugging on your sleeve. You pull away from him, just a few paces.

“When I escaped,” you start, feeling inexplicably nervous as Tamlin stares down at you. “Claude took me to the human world. I lived there for at least a century before my human family died and I came back here.” You stop, gauging his reaction. “Then, I assumed everyone else had died that night and couldn’t bear to come back to spring, So…. I just walked, and walked, and— you get the point.

“Eventually I ended up in the Night Court and I lived in a cave for a long time before Rhysand found me and—”

Tamlin cuts you off. “Rhysand? Why do you talk about him with so much familiarity?” His teeth grind and he looks positively fuming. “You do know that he’s the reason our family is dead, right?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“You would betray our family like this and become part of the Court who caused our demise?”

“No, Tamlin—”

He turns his face away from you, his fists clenched. “No sister of mine would behave this way.”

Your mouth drops open, but you snap it shut. “Tamlin, when I met Rhysand, I didn’t know who killed our family.” You explain calmly. “I was just a starving woman, living in a Night Court cave.”

He glares down at you, an air of superiority hanging around his head. “And how did you learn that it was Night Court? Who killed them?”

You take a deep breath. “He told me. Honestly, truthfully, he simply told me.” You stretch your shoulders nervously, and prepare to tell him that thing that you suppose will anger him most.

It's a reasonable reaction, you think; after all, if you’d been in his place, you’d be plenty angry that your sister was conversing with people who killed your entire family.

Before you can get out though, Tamlin speaks again. “You will come live in Spring with me.” It’s not a question, he is telling you what you must do.

Your eyes soften. “I cannot do that.”

“You can and you will.” Tamlin says with a finality in his voice.

You give him a pointed look now and reiterate, “No, I cannot and I will not.” A tug on the bond pulls your attention away briefly, and you realize how sick with worry Rhysand must be. You tug back to reassure him. “Tamlin, I live in the Night Court, that is my home.”

You know sugar coating your situation will not help, but based on his reactions, it’s becoming hard to get out.

“This will be your home again.” He says it so plainly, and though he tries to leave no room for argument, you know that you must argue.

“I’m the High Lady of the Night Court, Tamlin. This cannot ever be my home again.” You say sternly.

He falls quiet and unmoving for just a moment before he explodes.

“Not only have you been cohorting with our enemies, but you have married the worst one of them all?” He roars, you haven’t heard someone yell at you so thoroughly for a very long time. Even when you argue, Rhysand never yells.

“Rhysand is not a bad man, Tamlin, no matter what you may think!” You snap back.

It takes you a moment to register what happens next, but, before you can, you're on the floor and your cheek has a harsh sting.

When you compose yourself and realize what happens, you whisper. “Rhysand was right about you.”

His face goes red once more but he just releases a strained breath and spits, “High Lady’s do not exist, no matter what he tells you, dear sister.” Then with the meanest sneer you’ve ever seen in your life, he says, “Do not come crawling back to me when your life falls into shambles.”

You rise to your feet, dust off your pants, and try to retain your composure. “You are not the brother I remember, Tamlin.” Then, you turn and begin walking to the door. “In fact, I am not sure you are that brother at all.”

The manor’s door shut behind you and you tredge back to Spring’s edge where you know Rhysand’s comforting arms will be waiting.

You see him before he sees you, but his jaw clenches as soon as he does.

“What did he do to you.” He says it so flatly it doesn’t sound like a question; he closes the distance between you two and runs his thumb over what you assume is a mark on your face.

You try to make light of the situation to hold back the tears that are gathering in your eyes. “Things got a bit physical.” You amend, “on his end, at least.”

Rhysand does not appreciate the joke. “I should’ve gone with you, he never would have tried anything in front of me.”

You shrug. “I suppose that shows the kind of man he is.”

Rhysand turns your cheeks to get a better look at the mark. “No, Darling, I think this does.”

He lets his hand fall from your face, and so you wrap your arms around his waist, burying your stinging face in his chest. “You were right, Rhys. I should have listened to you.”

You can feel him shake his head. “No, you needed to see for yourself; I should’ve been there to prevent the worst of it.”

You pull away from him and look back towards the Manor. You spot Tamlin watching the two of you from a balcony, but you are far enough away, you can’t make out his expression.

Rhysand stares back, a silent promise for retribution, one way or another.

“Can we please just go home?” You tug on Rhysand’s sleeve. “I want to rid my mind of this interaction.”

He looks back down at you and smiles tenderly. “Of course, my love.”

…..

You had fallen down into your shared bed with Rhysand and let the tears silently fall while Rhysand goes off to do whatever it is he needs to do.

You had told him you wanted a minute alone; after probably only ten minutes you had drifted off to sleep.

Now, you’re being shaken awake by Mor.

“Y/n, wake up.” She sounds panicked so you shoot up.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” You say, as your heart pounds, every fear you’ve ever had races through your mind.

She looks deep into your eyes. “We can’t leave Velaris,” her expression reflects sorrow. “And Rhysand is gone.”

All content belongs to @beingsuneone , do not repost, copy or post on other platforms without my permission.

[redrobinhoodrat]

BABY BOO CHAPTER ONE

Jason is out patrolling and for some reason he’s got random noises coming through his coms. 

Well, not random. It’s only been the one noise that he’s been hearing over and over. He can only hear it at random intervals but the pitch is enough to make his teeth ache- the green that flashes in front of his eyes isn’t very reassuring either.

To top everything off, Red was watching him like a hawk. The paranoid little shit already picking up on how tense he was. He rolled his shoulders as he landed the next swing, trying to keep his flinch at the noise minimal. It shouldn’t even bother him. He’s never been sensitive to loud noises, he uses guns for god's sake! Usually, he’d pass this off as something fucked up with his helmet.

It was grating on him though. It made his chest feel tight, like he was about to panic. The weird staticky chirp played over and over as he stood there trying the figure it out. It had to be getting louder, right? Why was he constantly hearing it now? Where was it coming from? Why-

“-Hood!” He gasped as he felt someone grab his shoulder. He hadn’t even noticed he’d closed his eyes and gripped the sides of his helmet. He looked up into Red Robin’s mask as he tried to relax. He could see the worry across his face and tried to straighten up from his slightly crouched position.

“Red Robin, report.” Batman’s voice came through the coms and Jason was too slow to catch Tim’s attention as he shook his head and made a slashing motion at his throat. He watched as the kid straightened at the command and hurried to reply before his brother could get everyone riled up.

“Everything is fine.”

“You weren’t responding.”

“This,” he said harshly, “is me responding. Everything is fine.” Jason continued making vague threatening motions towards Tim since he seemed like he was about to chime in. He thought the last threat really hit home since the kid’s shoulders hunched up and he looked a little huffy as he responded.

“Everything’s fine Batman. Just a communication error.” Jason gave him a short nod as he tuned everything back out. The noise hadn’t happened in a second and instead of feeling relieved he felt his anxiety kick up. He glanced around as he tried to contain the urge to hunt for…something. He still wasn’t sure here.

“Hood, B’s not going to be happy when we get back if you keep ignoring him. What’s going on?” Tim had moved to be in front of Jason. Not too close though, he’d noticed him cocking his head and he could barely see the slight sheen of green shining from beneath his eye lenses. Something was up and he was going to figure it out. He watched Jason’s head snap towards him as he moved a step closer. He seemed to be twitchy but resigned as he sighed before answering.

“There’s a weird noise coming through my helmet. I’ve been trying to figure it out but I can’t. It’s making the pits act weird.” He crossed his arms as he said it, he couldn’t help the hint of defensiveness in his tone. He rolled his eyes as he noticed that Tim had a hand on his panic button.

“When you say it’s messing with the pits…?”

“I'm fine,” He huffed. “It’s more like a humming, greenish feeling.”

Tim hummed as he typed the symptoms into his computer. Taking notes just in case. As he finished he moved a little closer to his brother.

“Still, why don’t I take a look at your helmet. It could be nothing but you could’ve been hacked.” He gestured for Jason to pass him the helmet. He raised his brow however, as Jason took a step back defensively.

“No way! I won’t be able to figure out what the noise is if I can’t hear it.”

“That’s the point Jason,” Tim rolled his eyes. “You don’t know what’s causing this. What if Ra’s or someone has a way to induce an episode of madness in people affected by the pits? It could be mind control. It might be nothing. Just let me listen to your coms and I’ll see if I can hear it.” He held out his hand again.

Jason huffed as he thought it over. Letting his brother check wasn’t going to hurt anything, especially since the chirps had gone silent for some reason.

He scowled as the thought crossed his mind. Why was he so freaked out that the noise was gone?

Time watched as Jason tensed up before sagging and taking off his helmet. He took it from his brother's reluctant hands and quickly started a scan. He was so focused that he almost didn't notice as Jason's head snapped up. He quickly took more notice as the green sheen beneath his mask seemed to turn into a bright glow. The expression on his brother's face wasn't encouraging either. Panic and rage were crossing his face in equal intervals. He ducked behind an AC unit as Hood started looking around. Like hell he'd be getting near him like this, he'd already had one pit accident with Jason. He had the scars to prove it too.

He quickly pressed his panic button as a horrible thought occurred to him.

There's no way for the sound to be affecting Jason without the helmet if it'd been coming through the coms. If he was right, then the helmet had probably been filtering the noise. If he could just get him to put the helmet ba-

"Chirp!"

He cut his thought off as he heard a weird noise.

"Chirp!"

He scrunched his nose as he heard it again.

Was-? Was Jason chirping? Like a bird?

"Red, what's going on?!" Nightwing's voice came across his com as he watched Jason frantically call out with his weird noises. Honestly, how was he even making them, his mouth wasn't opening!

"We've got a green eyed situation with Hood, possible mind control, heavy emotional influence. Cause undetermined. Hood was talking about a weird noise earlier and now he's making odd noises."

"Copy that. Back up is four minutes away, is he hostile?"

"So far, no. He's just standing there. Menacingly."

"Red."

"I'm being serious B! All he's doing is making weird noises and looking around. It's like he's using echolocation or something." Tim watched closer as Hood let out an even louder chirp before tilting his head like he was listening. Could he really be hearing it echo back to him? There's an echo for sure but to a regular human the feedback wouldn't give them much information. What could he be listening to then? Tim isn't hearing anything unless...!

"Guy’s, it's possible the noises are a form of communication. He acts like he's listening for some type of feedback." He watched as Jason's expression suddenly changed to determined.

"Shit! He's on the move. I'm following at a distance."

"Alright Red, don't let him notice you. I’ve got eyes on you." Bab chimed in. Tim cringed at the thought of getting in Hood's way right now. Based on past experience with the expression on his face, someone was getting hurt tonight.

“Red Robin, update.” Batman said gruffly.

“He’s crossing over into the Upper East Side.” Tim had been reporting to the bats as he followed Jason. They’d been patrolling towards the North docks so he’s guessing it’d taken them maybe ten minutes to get to the river. Where the hell was that backup?

Jason had been going in the same general direction since he took off. His movements were almost mechanical as he would go in a direction for a while, stop and chirp like a bird, listen for a second, then take off again. 

He was so never letting him live this down. He’d already gotten Babs to duplicate all the footage and audio from his mask cam. He spotted a flash of purple to his right. He shook his head as he pressed his com button.

“Where the hell you been, loca?” 

“Had to make a pit stop and grab BB, Red. Couldn’t leave her out of all the fun!” 

Tim scanned his surroundings a little better and was rewarded with a flash of black slightly to the left and ahead of him. He couldn’t help but relax a little as he did, if Cass was here the chances of everything working out easily doubled. He might also be a little biased when it came to his favorite sibling though. 

He grinned as he sped up a little. The wit and teasing of Steph along with Cass’s short hand signs was a welcome change to his anxiety over Jason’s situation. As long as they could stay with him tonight and snap him out of it everything would be okay. 

Sadly, his upbeat mood plummeted as Jason suddenly changed directions. He was heading towards Robinson Park. 

“We need to intercept him, he’s heading to the park.” Batman made a small disapproving noise over the coms. He could hear the Batmobile roaring in the background, he could tell just from the noise he was going as fast as he could to catch up with them.  

“ETA is 2 minutes, do you think you can hold him off?”

He shared some quick glances with Cass and Steph. 

“Take your time B, we can handle him.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

“The updates are making me like Idia more, but in the same way you'd like a character for being pathetic” I’m shocked you didn’t like Idia at least from what I remember? He’s basically the same as Rollo (a character you do like I think) and in more ways than one. They’re both gloomy looking guys and traumatized big bros that are self righteous and pathetic. What kept you from liking Idia before if you don’t mind me asking?

[Referencing something I said in this post!]

Okay, confession time: when I was a little kid (I’m talking like 7-10 years old), I was SUPER into Greek mythology and more specifically the story of Hades and Persephone. I ate up ALL the Hades and Persephone retellings/reinterpretations I could find and actively hunted for more 💀 so you’d think I’d like Idia, who is twisted from Hades, given how I gravitated to Octavinelle because of my attachment to The Little Mermaid in my childhood…

I think what puts me off of Idia in spite of his similarities to Rollo, a character I do really love, is a combination of Idia's appearance and his attitude.

To tackle the shallower aspect first, I actually don't like characters that look "too" gloomy. I would say Rollo is stoic-looking, but not gloomy? He has a pretty neutral face most of the time and the only gloomy thing about him at a glance is the dark circles under his eyes. With Idia... There's a LOT going on here. The hair is definitely unique, but I've never been into super long hair. The nature of it kind of overshadows his face and Idia usually looks miserable as a default. I've mentioned before that I'm unnerved by his coloration too; the super pale skin plus the blue lips is reminiscent of a corpse and, well... while I do see there being an audience that finds him beautiful, I don't think that's a cute look for him.

Now, his attitude. I'm not going to fault Idia for being passionate about his hobbies, as we all have our niches that we're super into. What irks me is how Idia expresses himself and acts out on behalf of those interests. He talks down to people who "don't get it" and takes other measures to defend the things he likes that I think is crossing a line. For example, he tracks down the IP addresses of Ignihyde mob students that defaced his favorite idol group's website. In the EN version, Idia threatens to doxx the mobs too (though he never does, this was just a localization decision). Yeah, you could do that I guess... but should you? 😭 The other characters also do questionable things (as a J word fan, I cannot deny this) but those actions are usually so outlandish no one irl would do it (like how Azul is a high school student that runs his own shady business). Idia's behavior, meanwhile, embodies some very real and very toxic aspects of fandom culture. I think part of why I disliked Idia at first is also his manner of speaking; it's riddled with so much internet lingo that it's hard to take him seriously sometimes. This is even more true of the EN version of the game, which has added even more slang than was in JP. Like... sorry, am I NOT supposed to be giggling when OB Idia is making threats while talking like an enraged gamer (both in EN and JP)? There is a ceiling on how much pathetic I can take in one sitting, and Idia far exceeds it every time he talks. Other characters (like Rollo making cheesy villain speeches, Azul being teased, Jamil's DOKKAN, etc.) have their moments of funny ha ha-cringe as well, but at least I can still see them in a serious light.

Books 6 and 7 are enhancing my opinion of Idia solely because they focus on the "traumatized big brother" part to his character. In Glorious Masquerade too... Idia gets the courage to call Rollo out because he knows their experiences are so similar. I think the storyline was done very well, and I loved seeing how Idia grows from an event that no doubt affected him deeply and still continues to influence him to this day. It's clear that he cares deeply about both Orthos and will step up to protect them. I LOVE THAT FOR HIM, it's not as though Idia is completely throwing aside one brother for the other, he's acknowledging them both as his "true" brothers. The way he goes from laughing to crying in his post-OB flashback... Idia getting so mad at us attacking Phantom Ortho with lightning... the willingness to "go" with OG!Ortho to the world beyond... apologizing to Robo!Ortho for falling for the dream's promises of eternal happiness... Aaaah, it's just too good 😭

DIHLBASOFYIAYVYEBfsWPYWPF WHAT CAN I SAY... I like me a reliable onii-san character 🤡 I'M NOTHING IF NOT PREDICTABLE

[avesque]

hi sweet darling my my myyy i adore your writing so very much and wanted to know if you are still taking requests from that one post you linked? if so i would love to see something with tsu’tey for the “i am in love with a moment we never had” + angst? something about him with some angst just scratches an itch in my brain idkkk lots of love btw mwah !<3

across the stars — tsu’tey

INCLUDES fem!reader, human!reader. angst. 1.1k words.

NOTE anon you are so sweet omg thank you so much! <3

jakesully hands tsu’tey a note one afternoon after the battle, a crumpled piece of folded paper with specks of dirt on the edges. it looks tiny and, tsu’tey admits, unimportant.

he refuses to take it.

the olo’eyktan sighs, pushing the scrap back in his direction. “come on, brother. it’s important.”

tsu’tey begs to differ, taking a step back and scowling at the chief. a small, immature part of him is still stingy about the turn of events; how he had no choice but to pass his title to jakesully when he was on the brink of death.

“it’s from y/n.”

tsu’tey stills. his ears fall back in his hair at the mention of your name, tail swishing in curiosity.

you were one of the researchers — a biologist, he remembers you saying — alongside grace who studied pandoran flora and fauna. before the war, you had wormed your way well into the clan with your bright smiles and tinkling laughter. despite being one of the sky people, no one was able to resist you.

you were magnetic.

tsu’tey prides himself in his great resolve, his firm judgment. he is as untrusting as one can be; calculative when needed and always skeptical.

though he cannot deny how even he was left defenseless to your charm. it pains him to admit it but he grew fond of your excited chatter, especially the way your little demon face would light up at the mere mention of new plants, among other things.

he snatches the paper in jakesully’s hands and leaves without a word.

the note has been tucked under the woven mat in his hut for days now. tsu’tey has convinced himself there are far more important things to focus on than your flimsy little gift, and as dawn breaks over the moon, he finds himself grappling for excuses he can tell himself to prolong the inevitable.

a frustrated scowl mars his face, jumping off his hammock and kneeling on the floor, lifting the carpet to reveal the folded scrap. it seems almost threatening as it sits there, staring back.

he chooses to get it done and over with.

he turns it over a few times, looking for something; anything, but all there is is smeared dirt. finally, with bated breath, he slips a finger in the crease and unfolds it.

the paper is filled with your neat handwriting, dark ink nearly glowing on the white background. his heart sinks a bit as he sees how little you wrote but he ignores the feeling.

my dearest, tsu’tey, it reads.

his hands shake and the paper crumples beneath his fingers.

you may be reading this while i am already off this moon, or you may be reading this with a scowl perfectly painted on your face with me in front of you. either way, i just hope you’re reading this.

i would first like to thank you for your warm welcome.

tsu’tey grunts at that, shifting on his haunches, something ugly bubbling in his chest, one he cannot name.

i know how difficult it must be to accept someone like me yet you did not push me away. (you did, but you are unsuccessful! i am just stubborn, and i’m glad i am.)

the countless moments i have spent with you are everything to me. i will hold them close to my heart forever.

from the deepest crevices of my heart, thank you. i appreciate all the things you’ve done for me. for showing me the flowers and telling me about them, letting me come with you on hunts, and for merely walking with me in the forest. i hope you enjoyed those moments as much as i did.

the sky people are going back on earth soon and i have decided to come with them. before i go, i will tell you a secret.

my heart has grown too fond of you. sometimes, i fear you can hear the way my heart beats a little faster when you’re near. you have enraptured me. you are the most beautiful creature i have ever laid my eyes upon.

but i —

the letter is cut off, scrawled over by strings of ink. it starts again below, and the words sends an arrow straight through his heart.

i am in love with a moment we never had. not entirely, i suppose, since i do not go over our moments the way you do. i do not experience them in a… friendly way, shall i say? the way you do. it does not translate the same way between us.

i have spent nights with you clouding my mind, the sound of your voice a hazy lullaby in my head. i have dreamt of holding you, of kissing you, of telling you i love you.

i see you, tsu’tey. even when i am no longer in this moon, remember that somewhere in this vast universe, someone out there sees you.

thank you for sharing a part of yourself with me.

yours, y/n.

the letter is nearly balled up in tsu’tey’s firm grip. it is miniscule compared to his hand, and it is a reminder of how small yours had looked in his when he guided you over rocks that one time he showed you around.

something sits heavy in his heart. guilt, he’s come to know. the sky people left just two days ago and jakesully had given him your letter a week before.

he falls back on the floor of his hut, the mat digging under his left thigh.

had he known of your feelings… had he conquered his fear and read your letter earlier…

because tsu’tey may be known for his great resolve but all it took was your blinding smile to spear through his walls. he was untrusting as one can be but the trust you have shown you had in him had him wavering.

he suppose it is just right that he was stripped of his title. one so mighty will not cower before a piece of paper, but he had, and he missed the one chance eywa has given him to let you know of his feelings that had grown and bloomed over the course of your moments spent together.

he has nothing of you to remember by except this letter and the guilt that has taken root over his chest. he knows it will stay right there as long as he lives.

[loveandmurders]

I read I wish I was better for you and it made me crave angst. Could I request a concept of Bo and his s/o getting into a huge fight, then asking the brothers why their not just another victim? Why haven’t they just killed them off already? Fem reader is preferred, but gn is absolutely fine. Keep on being lovely. <3

Hello love, thank you so much for this request. I absolutely adore angst & hurt/comfort fics, so it had been very fun to write for this. I really hope you’ll enjoy this. <3

Female reader without physical description.

WHY AM I NOT DEAD ALREADY?

Warnings: Bo being Bo (aka an asshole but he loves you), mentions of murders, angst/comfort.

Even if life wasn’t all soft and peaceful in Ambrose, you weren’t often getting into such a huge fight with Bo.

Of course, you often were arguing with the man because of his anger issues and the risk he was taking in the hunting of victims and because he was paranoid you would try to run away from him one day, even if you knew you wouldn’t because you truly had fallen in love with him.

And because you loved him, and his brothers, you were always trying your best to stay calm and to talk, instead of yelling.

You were the appeasing presence in the house, even though you always stood your ground when you thought you were right, which Bo found both hot and very annoying.

This time, however, he pushed all your buttons in the worst way possible, even reminding you that if you were alive, it was all thanks to him, and that you should be obedient to him, especially because he could so easily turn you into a wax statue if he wanted to. After all, he only asked you to be pretty, not to open your mouth.

It was the first time he talked to you and threatened you that way. 

And you would have lied if you had said you weren’t afraid.

It was true, why didn’t he kill you?

He could have so easily put you on his chair, down his garage, and played with you to his heart's content, and then killed you and asked Vincent to turn you into a wax sculpture for the pleasure of his eyes, this time.

He didn’t need you alive.

No one here needed you alive.

Actually, you were probably a problem because they all had to keep an eye on you in case you wanted to run away.

“Finally found what to say to make ya shut up, hmm” Bo commented before leaving you on your own in the living room.

It was true that it was the first time you fell silent in front of him.

You sat on the couch, and took your head into your hands.

What has become of your life?

Did the man really care about you?

No, he was just bored and one day he would kill you, and you could only pray for it to be fast, but knowing Bo…

To be fair, Bo was already regretting his words but he was too proud to get back to you and hug you to reassure you. He was silently cursing himself, thinking he was an asshole (which he was, indeed).

He had no intention of killing you.

At all.

And his brothers either, because Bo was a lot more manageable now you were around.

Vincent got from the basement, a bit thirsty because of the heat downstairs. He was about to head to the kitchen when he saw you.

He tilted his head to the side, not too sure what to do.

He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but at the same time he didn’t like to see you like that, because you were now part of the family.

He finally walked to you and you looked up when you felt his presence.

He didn’t even have the time to sign and ask you what was wrong, that you asked him: “Why am I still alive? Why haven’t you turned me into a wax statue like the rest of the group I came here with?”

You waited for an answer and Vincent could only stare. He could tell you were pretty serious about your interrogations and it worried him.

What did Bo say? He signed because he knew it could only come from Bo and he had to stop himself from rolling his eye at how stupid his twin could be.

“He said he could so easily kill me, that I owe him my life” you replied “I mean you all could kill me actually. I really don’t understand why I’m still there” you continued.

Vincent groaned and took a chair to sit in front of you. 

He always had to put the pieces back together after his brother had broken something. And he really had hoped it would never happen with you. And now he could only hope, it would be the last time.

When he saw you among the tourist bus that came by, he instantly noticed you and he sent me a message to tell me to not touch you Vincent told you, and you could only arch an eyebrow at that. 

You had never heard about this before, and it was sometimes hard to tell when Vincent was saying the truth or not, in order to make you do what he wanted you to.

“And?” you asked for him to continue “He could have simply wanted to kill me himself”.

I don’t know all the details of the story, because Bo doesn’t share a lot. What I know is that he wanted to play with you and kill you himself, indeed. But you are alive because Bo isn’t an idiot, sometimes, and he saw you were what he needed in his life.

“I don’t understand, Vince” you shook your head. 

You had no idea how you could be what Bo needed in his life; it felt like Bo didn’t need anything but his family and you weren’t really family.

When you were in the House of Wax, the two of you, and that he was flirting with you, you said something that made him change his mind. I didn’t hear all about it, but you talked about how you hated your relationship with your parents and how you wished to have your own family, with a husband and maybe one day, kids, even though you weren’t totally sure about that. I got distracted with one of the tourists after, but each time he was asking you a question, I could tell by his eyes that you were saying exactly what he wished you would say.

You stared at Vincent, completely taken aback.

That day, the day he didn’t kill you, you had indeed talked about a lot of things with him. You had no idea why, but the conversation was quite easy with him and he had been so eager to ask you all kinds of questions.

You had indeed told him you wished to have a real family, and a husband and maybe kids.

You also said that you wouldn’t mind living in a small town and to be a housewife, as long as you had stuff to do in the house but also in town. You needed responsabilities and freedom, as well as a home.

And that you needed your husband to be protective of you, and sometimes a little bit possessive.

You also remembered how right after, Bo seemed to soften for a few instants before he started to think very fast. He gave you his best smile and guided you to his house, and you had followed because something made you trust the man. He had sat you in the living room and had asked you to not move.

And you had obeyed, and when he came back all bloody, you took care of him, without understanding he had killed the tourists you were with (they weren’t your friends, you were travelling on your own with a tourism agency and you were among others in a bus).

But when you had understood what Bo did, you hadn’t tried to run away because there was something about this man you needed.

“Are you saying that I’m not dead because…”

You're his dream girl, yeah.

You stayed silent for a few moments, trying to think.

“So, he won’t kill me?” you asked, still a little bit unsure of it but Vincent was quick to shake his head

You're the first girl he kept around, and he is just trying to pretend he doesn’t need you that much. But you can ask Lester if you don’t believe me; Bo is wrapped around your little finger.

You smiled at that, because you enjoyed the idea of someone as dangerous as Bo being in love with you that much. 

You thanked Vincent and felt better about all of this. 

You still wanted to talk to Lester, but also because you had an idea.

You called the man you considered like your little brother and you told him about your argument with Bo.

No need to say, he wasn’t impressed at all. 

“Ah yeah, he’s always tryin’ to fuck what makes him happy. But don’t get fooled, he’s always askin’ us to keep an eye on ya in case someone tries to hurt ya, or in case ya’d like to leave his sorry ass. He’d lose it, ya know.”

You didn’t need to know more, knowing Lester wouldn’t lie to you.

You asked him to go to the antiquity store in which you had seen two wedding bands a few days ago, as you had wandered around with Lester, and to buy them. 

Lester didn’t comment and obeyed you, like the big sister you were for him.

Once you got the two rings, you went to see Bo in his garage.

The music was blasting out and he didn’t seem in the best of mood, and it probably was because of your argument.

He was feeling bad about it a lot more than he would admit it.

The idea of losing you was eating him up, and he hoped he hadn’t scared you off.

He looked up from his truck when he saw you and he arched an eyebrow, silently asking you what you wanted from him now.

You moved closer to him, a little more confident around him now you knew what he truly felt about you.

“You wouldn’t kill your wife, right?” you asked him with a little smile and he frowned without understanding what you meant.

You took his left hand and placed the ring on his finger.

“Because I wouldn’t leave my husband” you smiled even more.

You had no idea what was going on inside his head, but when you showed him the second ring, he didn’t hesitate to put it on your finger.

“That’s true, girl, my wife’s off limits” he finally said.

“Hmm, that’s what I thought” you hummed and you tiptoed to kiss his lips.

Before you knew it, he sat you on his truck, and his hands were roaming your body with renewed desire and possessiveness.

Gosh, he fucking loved you.

Taglist:

@feathery-ass

[moondrop-writes]

Okay okay I know you JUST wrote something for me but I also JUST got an idea! What about either Connor Stoll or Percy dating a daughter of Dionysus!? He doesn’t know initially but when he noticed them spending more time together he gets suspicious and then when he walks into her cabin without word one day and catches her kissing him he realizes that his precious daughter is dating the guy…which he’s not pleased about. So he threatens his daughter’s boyfriend and is all “if you so much as look at her the wrong way I WILL hunt you down and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life” but ultimately approves because he sees how happy that he makes the reader? And so he goes back to reader and tries to make the threat not seem as bad and they just have a cute little picnic or something together.

If you choose to ignore that’s fine cause you did JUST write something for me, but I think it might be interesting.

hi hi! and no worries about the amount of requests ill take em all! because i just wrote something with percy, i'll go with connor + i love the stoll brothers so...thank you for the request!

edit: i just realized i completely forgot the picnic part...im so sorry :(

You sat on a bench on the porch of your cabin, bending grapevines and leaves amongst twigs to fold it into a crown. Connor, amused, sat at your feet, chin hooked on top of your knee.

"Just wait," you murmured, tongue poking out from your lips as you tie the twigs with a few stray pieces of string, "it looks better when it's on your head."

Connor hummed, raising an eyebrow. You've pricked your fingers about five times, and it'd been an hour of you carefully crafting the crown, but he'd stayed there at your feet for every second of it.

"Aha!" you grinned and leaned down to place it in his curls. Immediately, his dark curls seemed to swallow it up. He winces, as pulls on one curl that had been tugged on uncomfortably when it was placed in his head.

You'd been right, it did look better on his head. The leaves stood out in his dark hair, and the wood of the twigs was a lighter shade than his hair.

You smiled, cradling his cheeks in your hands. "See? Perfect."

He giggled, "me or the crown?"

"Both."

You leaned in to kiss him, when your name was sharply called.

"Y/N!" Your head shot up to find your father, Dionysus, making his way towards you. Connor's eyebrows furrowed, showing his distaste at the intrusion, but stood up and shuffled away a bit. Not even he would dare face your father.

"Papa," you greeted, standing up. He glanced at Connor, but looked over it and waved you forward. Nervously, you hopped down the steps to greet him. Even if he was your dad, and you were around him frequently, he was still a god and could very much turn you into a shellfish if he pleased.

"Yes?" You asked, hands folded behind your back. Your father rubbed his temple, can of coca-cola in hand.

"I need you to overlook the new campers in the archery range. I would ask somebody else, but they all made up excuses and I don't have the energy to do it," he looked genuinely sympathetic for you, knowing very well how much of a pain some new campers could be. It wasn't new to you, for him to treat you so kindly, but Connor made a noise of surprise in the back of his throat.

"Yes, papa. I'll be there in a moment, let me grab my bow," you ran back into the cabin, and exited just in time to hear your dad dismiss your boyfriend.

You gave Connor a brief wave, which he grinned and returned, but stopped and ran when your father stared at him.

"God, I hate Hermes' kids," he said before taking a sip of his drink.

You chuckled weakly, shouldering your bow. "Yeah..."

He walked off, and you blew out a puff of air.

Guess telling you dad about the status of you and Connor's relationship was once again put off.

--

Dionysus knew there was a problem with his eldest child, he just couldn't figure out what.

Castor and Pollux were easy, both boys barely into their teenage years. You were a different story. You showed a whole new set of emotions and talents that Dionysus couldn't figure out. It's why he and your mother hadn't worked out very long (other than the fact he was already married). You and your mother were very similar, but you were both very stubborn.

You obeyed, most of the time, but there were certain things you just refused to bend to. It was what had intrigued him of your mother, but now, while he was attempting to raise you well, it was a struggle.

But even then, you'd become more closed off. You used to greet him daily, whether it was a wave or coming up to say, "good morning!" you always gave him some sort of hello. And sometimes, you'd even join him to play card games, which is more than what he could say for your brothers.

Now though? Each morning when you walked by the big house you were talking to either Connor or Travis, sometimes even both, and it'd been weeks since you bothered to come play games, or even hang around with him.

He didn't want to say he missed you, because it didn't bother him that much. But he was a literal manifestation of entertainment and got bored rather quickly. He loved his boys, but he'd always had a closer bond with you than them. You were a form of entertainment to him, but you were also his daughter and such a shift in behavior concerned him.

Hate to say it out loud or not, he loved you dearly. You were his only little girl.

And it wasn't just the fact you'd stopped talking to him, it was the fact you stopped talking to your brothers too. Castor had approached him on the verge of tears because he'd thought he'd done something to offend you. But, when he payed more attention, he found it was because you'd taken to following the Stoll brothers around.

But teenagers did that right? Leave their annoying little siblings in order to hang out with friends? Gods, he's watched too many romance movies with you.

The number of times he's stared at a TV screen and seen the whiny little sibling snitch on the older sibling after they'd snuck out to talk with their partner should be a crime.

His thoughts flit back to Castor, sniffling in front of him because his older sister was off with Connor Stoll somewhere.

You, with Connor Stoll, somewhere.

Oh, my gods.

He stood up abruptly, just narrowly avoiding knocking over the table as he stormed down the steps of the big house. You had some major explaining to do.

It was easy to see why'd you been dating someone. He cherished you for a reason, so it isn't hard to see why someone else wouldn't. But you were still his daughter.

Connor Stoll? Really? He didn't want you dating any of these brats but there were certainly better options than Connor Stoll. Like that one Apollo boy, but Dionysus is pretty sure he's gay.

He approaches the cabin quickly, and he watches the camper's part to let him walk through. It's easy to anger a god, but it's not easy to soothe that anger.

Dionysus swings the door open and pauses. He doesn't know why he was so shocked, but he supposes it was just the confirmation that stopped him.

There were only three beds in the rather large cabin, so he found yours with ease. There was you, lip locked, with Connor Stoll. He felt his veins light with rage as the two of you jumped apart.

Connor's hand was still on your thigh, and yours on his arm.

"Hands off," he grumbled, swatting at his arm. Connor pulled back as if he'd slapped him.

"Papa!" you cried, jumping up. He didn't touch you, but he held out his arm and you understood. Quietly, you took a step back, staring at the floorboards.

He turned back to Connor, staring at him with wide brown eyes. He raised a finger to jab in his chest.

"Listen, Stoll, because I'm not going to repeat myself," he leaned back, gesturing to the space between you and him. Connor nodded shakily.

"Yes, Mr. D," he stuttered out, glancing over to you.

"Ah, ah, ah. No, eyes on me," Connor's eyes flit to him.

"If you even look at her again, I will make sure you and your future kids regret it for the rest of your small mortal lives. Understood?"

"Yes," he repeated, struggling to make eye contact.

"Good," Dionysus said and then he points to the door, "now get out."

Connor does, only after pausing at the door. He doesn't look back though, and Dionysus turns to you.

He sighs when he sees your tears, and you sniffle softly. "Y/N," he calls gently, raising his hand to wipe at your tears. You turn your head, and his hand brushes your shoulder instead.

You wouldn't dare say anything, so that meant it was all up to him.

"You know I'm doing this for you. Connor...he's just, not the right fit--"

"I loved him though!" you shouted, hiding your face in your hands, "he made me really happy, Papa, and you ruined it!" You sobbed, loud and noisy, and it reminded him of when you were young and wailed over things such as scraped knees.

"You're still young," he tries to reason, "there will be others!"

"Not like Connor," you say, "and besides, I doubt you'd approve of them either."

He pauses at that, hand hovering midair. He never knew what to do to please you anymore. You'd moved away, grown more distant, since your childhood. You'd grown up. He hadn't changed, you had.

Maybe he had to change with you.

His hand grabbed your wrists and pulled them from your face. Then, he wiped at the tears on your cheeks and pulled you close. You fought at first, but melted into the touch once he rested his hand on the small of your back.

"I just want you safe, you know that, right?" he whispered, like it was a secret.

Slowly, you nodded.

"I mean it, Y/N. I love you, and your brothers a lot."

Still, you weren't satisfied.

"And," he said, taking in a deep breath, "if Connor makes you happy then...you can pursue him further."

You jumped back, a grin on your face. "Really?" you asked, a small hint of doubt in your tone.

He sighed, "yes, really."

You threw your arms around him. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Dionysus ran a hand through his hair. "Mhm, yeah, whatever.

You pull back again, your wide grin softening into a shy smile.

"Papa, I can handle myself. I mean it. Thank you."

Finally, a smile makes its way onto his features too.

"Yeah, you're welcome."

[sleepyfan-blog]

Cuddling

Author’s note: The fifth fic for Nadesir! First. previous. Next. “Blah.” Gothic “blah” english

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @whorety-k @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@the-pure-angel

Warnings: cops, emotional breakdown, 

Summary: You and Nadesir speak to Relevant Authorities post-kidnapping, and then cuddle in a safe place. 

“-and that’s when I felt her distress. I hunted the vehicle that was holding her hostage, popping the tires and tearing in through the roof. I killed the baseline who dared threaten her with a gun and left the rest for the Salamanders to deal with.” Nadesir explained to the Dark Angel Interrogator chaplain, his wings resettling irritably on his back as he stares the loyalist down. He is holding onto your hand as tightly as he knows won’t hurt you. He wants you in his arms, but you’re talking to the human police officer not far from where you and he are standing, so this is what he’s going to get for now “Given the mood the Dragons are in, if you want to talk to any of the kidnappers while they still live, you should do so now. The Dragons’ Wrath is well known, after all.”

“Do you have any idea as to why your bonded might have been kidnapped? Does she have any living enemies who might want to capture her for whatever reason?” The Chaplain asks, a concerned frown appearing on his face “This is not the first couple of times that bonded baselines have been attempted to be kidnapped while their astartes are away from their side.”

Nadesir’s wings flare open and his eyes begin to glow a furious red, his thin, long tail whipping back and forth before wrapping around your waist, yanking you to his side, a low, unhappy growl in his voice as he speaks "There have been what?” His distress skyrockets. “I thought this had to do with whatever the hell the Hydra have been up to in this area for the past several months. A pack of them tried to kidnap my bonded weeks ago, but only the once. I don’t know why they would want her, other than that she is amazing, wonderful, beautiful and talented.” 

“... I hadn’t been informed that there was an active Hydra cell in this area.” The Chaplain murmured, the frown on his face deepening.

“I was tracking one of the Hydra before I felt my beloved bonded’s distress and fear and went to rescue her.” Nadesir explained. Part of him knew that the Salamander patrol wouldn’t have let the kidnappers get far… But he couldn’t let you fester in your fear and distress, not when he could try and alleviate it. Was it possible that was done by the Hydra in order to keep him from getting one of the injured fuckers and dragging him to base to be slowly roasted on a spit by irritated Salamanders? Possibly. But he couldn’t muster up the ability to care, not with the scare that both you and he had. “The Hydra was injured, or at least feigning an injury to one of his legs.” Just in case a random brother showed up injured in the same way for treatment, it was possible that he was an incognito Hydra. Nadesir reported where he’d followed the Hydra to, before rushing off to go rescue you. “Is there anything else you needed from me in this investigation?”

The chaplain shook his head “No, if your bonded is done speaking with the investigator-baseline you may retreat to your personal nest, or to the nearby base.”

Nadesir did have a room assigned to him in the relatively small Astartes in the little town  you lived in. It was well fortified and largely unlived in, as your cozy home was usually adequate for a place to sleep and spend time together in… But as it was possible you’d been taken from there… His wingtips twitched and his tail tightened around where he’d curled it around you, a low rumble leaving him. “Very well.” He turns and scoops you up, switching to English “Are you ready to go home?”

You sigh, leaning into his familiar warmth, grateful beyond words to have his steady presence with you in this awful time. “I would love to say yes, but I was kidnapped from our home, and the police have cordoned it off as one of the crime scenes to investigate. We’re going-”

“-to be staying in the Astartes base. I have an assigned room there, as I am a permanent resident of our home town. I do have some things stashed there for extra comfort. It is safer than a hotel.” Nadesir offered firmly. Part of him wanted to make it a demand, but you could get prickly about such things. “It is much safer. Please?”

You sigh and hug him tightly. You can see the anxiety in his big, midnight black eyes, the tension in his wings, and of course, his tail rarely squeezes you this tightly unless he’s terribly anxious. You also know that you’re in shock after being kidnapped, and that when the adrenaline and emotional numbing wears off you’re going to be a complete mess. “Alright, we’ll go to the base. I’m going to need clothes for work, once I’m ready to go back.” You’ll need to talk to your shift lead about taking time off to process being kidnapped… and you’ll probably have to talk to the (ugh) police again… You feel your lower lip tremble a little and your voice hitches “Okay, we can go n-now.”

The police officer asks “Do you want to take a ride back to town in my car? With your Astartes it’ll be a tight fit.”

You flinch at the thought of getting into another car, but Nadesir speaks up before you can try and figure out what to say.

“I’m going to carry her back to the Astartes base. Astartes can run as fast as most standard cars, and with my wings, I can fly her a more direct path there. There are other humans who were briefly taken.” He also doubted that the Salamanders were going to let their humans out of arm’s reach, much less driven by car back to base, but that was their conversation to have, not his. 

“Alright then.” The officer nodded, heading to the next freshly traumatized human to speak with.

~

You enjoyed the flight to the Astartes base, despite the adrenaline crash causing you to start sobbing and shaking as you cling tightly to Vanya, burying your face into one of his broad shoulders, your body shaking violently from the force of your sobs. You’d been terrified when the armed kidnappers had dragged you from  your home, threatening worse than death if you didn’t comply with them. 

You had no idea why you’d been kidnapped, and had desperately hoped that Vanya would somehow be able to find you. And find you he did. The strength it took to rip open a van was… It was incredible. He was incredible, and you loved him so much. You were so, so grateful to have met him, that he’d decided to stay, despite your frequent nightmares and long working hours as a medical professional. 

“I’ve got you, beloved. There is nowhere on this world where you could be taken where I would not eventually follow and free you. I do not know who tried to take you, but I will guard and protect you more vigilantly. I just… I hope you can forgive me for being away when you were under threat.” Vanya apologizes, dark eyes filled with guilt and determination as he landed lightly in front of the base, silently showing the door guards his id and you and he being waved through. “Do you need to be seen by an apothecary?”

You shake your head “I wasn’t physically harmed… and me being kidnapped wasn’t your fault, wasn’t due to some failing on your part, Vanya. It was the fault of the kidnappers who tried to take me away, for whatever reasons they thought they had.” You lean in closer to him, hugging him tightly as he brings you to a midnight blue door with red trim.

He opens the door, revealing a sparsely decorated room, with astartes sized furniture. It did have little touches that made it clear that this room belonged to Vanya, but it was nothing like yours and his bedroom in your home. “What do you need, my love?”

“I… Hold me? And… I’m starting to get hungry, now that the adrenaline has worn off. Something mild and filling.” You ask, feeling timid and exhausted. “And something to drink. I should drink water…” though the idea of having a stiff drink was appealing.

Nadesir nodded, carrying  you over to his bed and setting you down. He gives you a gentle kiss on the lips before kneeling down and dragging a small (to him) chest out from under his bed, pulling out two boxes of your favorite kinds of granola bars, and several plastic bottles of water. “I’ve some nonperishable food stashed in here for the both of us, so eat as much as you like.”

“That’s… that’s really thoughtful of you. I’m glad you didn’t have to leave to get me food.” You respond, grateful beyond words. You were hungry, but the idea of going to the communal cafeteria in the base, or him going out to grab you something to eat outside of the base… Away from you for who knew how long, filled you with a nervous anxiety that you did not want to deal with. Nor did you want to be perceived by others right now.

“I figured if I brought you here, it was likely due to an emergency situation of some kind, since our usual nest is much more comfortable, and planned accordingly.” He explains, preening at the praise as he sits on the bed, leaning into you, one arm curling around your waist as you open one of the granola bar’s packaging and biting into it. He pulls a blanket and drapes it around both you and him, humming softly, eyes partially closed.

You pause eating long enough to crawl into his lap, giving him a kiss on the cheek before settling down in his warm, familiar, safe lap, nibbling on the food he’d thoughtfully provided for you until the post-adrenaline energy crash dragged you into sleep.