#unbeta-d so all mistakes are mine

[kunishirou]

happy early xmas for me, since I really love WinterIron concept so much lately so why not?

Rating: General/Teen Characters: James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers Relationship(s): James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes/Tony Stark, James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes & Steve Rogers Other Tags: Single parent!Bucky, kid!Steve, Family, pre-relationship, alternate universe - modern/no power, Christmas themed

                                                 ・。・゜★・。・。☆・゜・。

“Stevie, take it easy, pal. We still have some time before dinner time. You can choose whichever slowly,” Bucky huffed, shaking his head as he looked at his little spitfire fondly, who seemed so unsure which toy he wanted to get. It had been a long while since they managed to shop together like this, especially as it was getting closer to Christmas holiday. Last year was a lonely one for both of them, as Bucky couldn’t go home from his tour and Steve stuck with his Poppa and Nana. It broke his heart so much when he tried to video call his family, only to see Steve wailed really hard for his Dadda until the boy fell asleep, still crying. But now he came home for real and could spend all time he had with his beloved son. Taking the little guy to the toys store to pick up what Steve wanted for his Christmas gift seemed like a great idea a few hours ago.

And it didn’t even take more than 30 minutes until Bucky completely lost him.

                                        ・。・゜★・。・。☆・゜・。

He knew he shouldn’t go to the store alone without any supervisions or guarding. Even Happy didn’t know that his employer just gone from the office, wearing the best civilian, cheap clothes he got and simply dashed into the said best toys shop in the city. Tony Stark probably could just get whatever he needed right now by ordering online. Heck, maybe even bought five the exact things. Maybe even the most expensive one in the world with just a single click from his tablet.

But no, Pepper would be so pissed if Tony tried to spoil her daughter, Gwen, by buying yet another expensive toy for the lovely baby girl’s Christmas present. But then again, Tony just wanted to be the coolest uncle ever (besides Rhodey, maybe, they could share the honorable title with him) for her. Also, again, Pepper would notice if Tony bought anything suspicious like the last time he bought the $300,000 Barbie doll for Gwen. Or that one time when he bought a dollhouse worth at least $250,000. Partially, it was his fault for just bought whatever caught his eyes in the first place.

It was just a present, Gwen shouldn’t care about how much they worth and simply played with the gifts!

Alas, the parents knew and Pepper banned him to buy anything online or way too expensive anymore. So here he was, at the suburban area that somehow had the best and apparently also the largest toy store in the whole city. Fair enough, since the said store was more like a renovated warehouse anyway. Thus, the adventure began from the time Tony entered the place, which rather packed with families right now because the Winter holiday was approaching fast.

Lucky for him, no one seemed to notice his face yet. So he could quietly slipped deeper into the store while looking around.

What he didn’t expect was that there was a little boy who was sleeping alone. On top of a big teddy bear’s belly. And no one else seemed to see it as a strange scene. Some questions had been inside Tony’s head already: who’s this boy? Why is he alone? How old is he, Jesus Christ, he’s so tiny and very skinny but adorable with those Captain America onesie getup hidden briefly under another layer of warm clothes awww - but where’s the parents? Tony didn’t hear any announcements or a voice of distress parents calling names for their child yet. But there was no way this boy was walking alone, right? Despite how much he didn’t want to get involved and only wanted to look for the presents, Tony could imagine how the parents would feel when they knew they just lost their kids inside the store. It wasn’t like the little boy was equipped with any kind of gadgets for the parents to call as well.

Groaning internally, Tony walked closer to the boy who started to stir awake. Let’s just hope he won’t cry or even wail enough for other people to accuse him as a kidnapper, geez.

“Heya, little dude. Sleep well? I assume you’re not walking around the shop alone, since you look really small and I don’t think any parents should allow you to do that yet.” Welp, that earned the man some sleepy glare, which should look a bit scary, but somehow made the boy looked even cuter. “Not that I think you’re small small, I mean uh - anyway, where’s you parents? Are you here with them, right? You got separated?”

And the little kid - Tony noticed how blue his eyes were - only stared at him, looking unconvinced. Slowly, the boy wiped his eyes with one hand before stepping down from the teddy bear. Blue eyes still looked up at Tony.

“...Dadda said not to talk to a stranger if I’m alone. And I don’t know you.” Oh good, the boy was speaking, yay. Tony was afraid what if the boy wasn’t old enough to even speak proper English yet, but it seemed he underestimated how fast children could grow nowadays. The man grinned, giving his best, mostly not - well, hopefully not that kind of awkward, smile and crouching down to the boy’s level.

“Your Dadda is a good man and you’re such a good kid for listening to him. So I suppose a proper introduction is in order, you know, so we can get to know to each other and we’re no longer strangers. Well, technically still strangers, but at least there’s a progress. So? I’m Tony, what’s your name, little guy?”

Another glare, before the boy said, “I’m not little, I’m 3,” well it’s still too little for Tony, but he won’t argue with that, “....’m Steve.”

Honestly, Tony’s heart melted a little when he saw how brave and yet still so shy this Steve boy acted towards the man. Now he really wanted to make sure the boy returned safely to his parents, almost instantly forgetting his own mission to the store. Well, it was a big store, he could still find something proper later on. Now, back to Steve.

“Oh, wow okay Steve, you’re a big boy then. My bad. Nice to meet you, glad we’re already on first name basis at our first meeting or we had to go through boring and awkward situation before getting where we are,” okay, no more rambling to the poor kid. Tony would just confuse him even more. “So, Steve, Stevie, can you tell me where the last time you see your Dadda? Or Momma? You go together with them, right?”

Tony swore the kid’s expression changed for a brief seconds there before he looked down at the floor, two small hands played with the hem of his sleeve. “Don’t have mommy. Only with Dadda,” Steve mumbled, which made a wonder, and another ton of questions but Tony kept them to himself.

“With your Dadda, then.” the man nodded, “What do you say if we go to the help center and wait for your Dadda there? I’m pretty sure it’ll be kinda pointless to search for him by ourselves in this big place, so we should go and make sure he can find you at one place. What do you say?”

“And how can I be sure that you won’t trick and kidnap me?” Wow, this kid was really perceptive and fully aware his situation could go wrong if he wasn’t careful to who he should trust. Tony absolutely underestimated this little guy so much. Quick, think of something.

“Because,” Tony shushed, looking around before beckoning the kid to come closer. He pulled his right sleeve a bit to reveal a rather gaudy toy watch with Iron Man design on it - courtesy of his lovely niece Gwen, and she insisted Tony to keep wearing it and somehow it became his habit now. Even if he had some proper watches collection. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m actually Iron Man, Cap. I know you’re actually Captain America, right? I can see through you with those kind of red-white-blue outfit you hid inside that jacket, you know.”

“You’re silly,” Steve giggled, and Tony grinned again.

“Oh, am I now? I’m hurt, Cap, I thought you’ll be less judgmental in person.” He faked a gasp, one hand clenching his chest before grinning again, “Us Avengers have to watch each other’s back, no? So why don’t you let me help you for this once? Pinky promise no funny business, I can swear it by my Arc Reactor. I’d say my heart, but I guess my Arc Reactor is one and another my second heart and even more important to keep me alive anyway, so there’s that.”

“You’re still silly, but alright, Mister Tony. My Dadda likes Iron Man too and I think I can trust you not going to do anything funny to me.”

“I probably already said this, but your Dadda is a good man with a good taste,” he laughed, “Now I can’t wait to see what your Dadda looks like, I have a hunch that me and your Dadda can get along just fine with our similarity, then.”

                                       ・。・゜★・。・。☆・゜・。

Turned out Steve’s father had a pair blue eyes as well. Very blue eyes and Tony was entrapped. He probably lost a few first words here and there, okay, maybe a lot of words when they finally met at the customer help desk. The very first part that he was aware was those gorgeous blue eyes and  deep, raspy voice probably roughed up because he shouted too much for his son, and -

“Mr. Tony?”

Oh, oh. Shit. How long he had been staring, again? “Yes? Yeah, uhm, I’m still listening. Got a bit distracted a bit just now. Too much noises around here, don’t you think - what was it that you said again?”

Tony thought the man would be offended at least, but he just gave Tony an understanding smile. “I can sympathize. Not quite a fan of crowded places with too much noises myself, but I’m trying. What I wanted to say was thank you for finding and bringing Steve here for me.” Bucky smiled at the little boy, who curled himself up on Bucky’s arms and wrapped his tiny arms around the man’s neck, looking ready to sleep again. “I was panicking and probably running around the store just to find him until I got back my common sense and went to the customer desk before I started crying myself.”

Oh, dear God, those laughter. Tony was pretty sure that it should be so illegal to laugh or even chuckle so beautifully like that. The father himself in overall had been already illegal. Not only just because of those blue eyes, but that strong jaw, those impressive cheekbones that probably could cut, rather long hair that look quite silky that he tied into a messy bun that suited the man so much, how the corners of his eyes crinkled when he laughed - 

Wait, why was the father still laughing at him?

“Believe me, my hair usually ain’t as silky as you think. Maybe because I took the wrong shampoo rather than my usual one for a whole month and didn’t realize it. Who knows a baby shampoo can do such a thing.”

Tony smacked his face as hard as he could. “Oh, my God. Did I say it out loud in front of you? I said it out loud in front of you and your kid. Oh God. I swear I’m not a creep, I just have a tendency to say whatever came out in my mind and it’s not helping since I have a very big mouth - no other intention intended. I’m so sorry about this. I hope you won’t sue me. Please don’t sue me. I still have to attend the Christmas party with all my friends - which probably can be counted with one hand - and spend more time with my lovely little niece. What would she think if she knew his cool uncle just got into prison because he just accidentally compliments his sudden crush - I’m going to shut up now before you really want to sue me.”

To his surprise, the father didn’t seem to annoyed to the very least. He just simply...blushed and scratched the back of his neck with his free hand. “Uhm, thank you? I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that if you want. And no, I won’t sue you. You just saved my Stevie from getting lost too far. Besides, he said you’re, like, Iron Man?” he teased, starting to sound more confident, “No way I’m going to sue Iron Man who just saved my son, he’s way too cool for being taken into prison for that. And I’m a big fan of Iron Man myself. Isn’t that right, Stevie?” The said boy looked up at both Tony and Bucky, smiled sleepily and continued burying his face to the man’s shoulder.

Tony blinked stupidly, “Really?” he cleaned his throat before smirking at the man, “Really, now. Glad to hear that then, Steve’s father.”

“Bucky.”

“Bless you.”

“No, not that,” the man - Bucky - snorted. “That’s my name. Well, James, actually. But no one calls me that unless you’re my Ma.”

“Bucky, eh? Nice to meet you. I like the sound of it, suits you. I was gonna ask where you got ‘Bucky’ out of James, but I guess you got other people asking you that a lot and it seems like a question for a first date thing - I mean. Shi - shoot, sorry. No, not that I want to pressure you with such a thing. I just like talking whatever came out of my mind, again. This sounds awkward already, sorry about that.”

“No, that’s okay. Well, Mr. Iron Man,” Bucky bit his lower lip, considering, “I was hoping maybe you can join us for tonight’s dinner as a thank you, it’s the least I can do to repay you. Maybe by then we can get to know each other fairly well, don’t you think? Unless if you already had a plan.”

Again, Tony blinked, “Dinner? With you and Steve? You sure I won’t interrupting your family bonding time?”

“Absolutely sure. And I’m sure Steve will be so thrilled anyway. I can see he already likes you enough. He doesn’t trust people so easily like he does to you. Most of the time he will run away as fast as he can if he doesn’t feel safe around strangers, Stevie is intuitive like that.“

Tony was pretty sure his heart just swelled in pride. “S-Sure, yeah. I’d like that very much. So, like, numbers exchange? So you can send me your address and time? Promise I’ll be there on time.”

“Smooth, but alright,” Bucky chuckled, fishing out his phone to exchange his number with Tony.

“It’s a date, then,” Tony said casually when he pressed save button for Bucky’s number on his phone, but froze when he saw Bucky raised his eyebrow, realization of what he just said. “I mean, like, with family. So it’s a family date? Dinner? No? Alright, sorry, didn’t mean to say that.”

“Tony, calm down. You look like you’re about to burst into fire like that,” the brunet chuckled, shifting Steve on his arm. Cheeks flushed red a little. “It can be a family date if you want. We - well, I - I’d like to know more about you.”

“...really?”

Bucky nodded, and it was Tony’s turn to blush as he gave his charming smile.

“It’s a family date, then.”

[kthynes]

the love we have

pairing: chris evans x ex-wife!reader

request: hey, can you do one where the reader is Chris's ex wife and she's about to be married again to a guy she doesn't really love. so in the night of her bachelorette party she's really drunk and she ended up going to his apartment and tell him that she still loves him and that she wants to hate him because he was the one who file for divorce but she can't, then she leaves. on the day of the ceremony their 10 year old kid tells Chris that he should go after her before is too late. - anon

warnings: angst (I need to be stopped), mentions of divorce, some course language and alcohol consumption - there'll definitely be a light at the end of the tunnel

a/n: before I sign off for the weekend I leave you with another saucy request. I love that many of you are onboard this angst train of mine aha! Gotta love a good old win me back troupe. Any who thanks for this request nonnie, I truly enjoyed writing this one 💋

this is unbeta-d so any mistakes are my own

Musical muse: a whole lot of Sam Smith and Breathe Again by Sara Bareilles - I was in my feels while listening to this!

Taglist: @patzammit @mrs-djokovic

this gif is not mine - credit goes to the rightful owner!

-:-

One shot.

Two shot.

Three shot.

Door?

It's the night of your Bachelorette, a wedding tradition that you've certainly grown out especially after encountering it the first time around. But that doesn't stop you. There's a lot to life that you've let up on and not having a good time wasn't one of them.

But after fruitfully knocking back a couple Kamikazes and a shot of tequila; no salt, no lime and no chaser, you find it in you to wander away from the group, going on an uncalled adventure.

Your dancing feet dawdle out of the club to hail a cab. You get in and then hop out of said cab when the meter reaches an undesirable rate. In the conundrum of your actions, you get adroitly yelled at by the cabbie who realizes you are lost cause and another nuisance that'll have him working a long night. He suffers with you and it's unlikely that you'll feel any sort of remorse for your actions. And you don't.

"Oh go to hell!" You tell off the sputtering cabbie who says something in his native language before accelerating down Broadview, a narrowing strip in downtown L.A that you'd frequent on your worst behavior, tonight being of them.

You aimlessly amble through the wet side streets, your lead legs atrophy while being restricted in the confines of your slutty little sequins dress, the top of the line pick that would have many men ogling you as you stagger by.

It's a drag but you're on a unfettering mission, snapping at a few disorderly teenagers on the wrong side of town. They try to catcall, whistle and rally a rouse out of you. You get prissy and mother-like, telling each of them to euphorically choke on a dick.

"Only if you'll choke on ours." One of them snickers and you loose your shit crackers. You fight them, they're harmless little punks testing their bravado.

"You think your father would appreciate that?" You brickbat and that's when a onlooking cop directs them away and retributively waits by you so there's no further ensuing trouble,

"I swear to you officer that I'm up to no good," You mean well, you really do but then the older, defilade man cringes. There's no falling back on your defenses, you were dumb drunk. "Wait. That's not it. I'm fine, I am, look it."

You twirl around in your four inch heels, putting on your own silly version of the sobriety strut, testing him by all means.

"Alright, how about we get you home yeah?" It's like your own father is talking down to you with that harrowing displeasure. "Do you know where home is?"

You're appalled. Of course you knew where you laid your head at night. What did he know?

"I do!" You profess and then snicker while remembering your stupid vows. "I do."

The constable scrupulously watches you order an Uber to much of his own discretion. Your ride arrives shortly after, he’s assured and then solemnly, you wind up at the last place you'd ever find yourself pleading for resistance.

1357 Adelaide Crescent.

The palatial grand towers that you'd make one stop visits on your designated drop off days becomes an impromptu acervatio of reconciliation.

He has to be here. You recollect in the haze of your own drunken thoughts after being ushered up by a small gathering of tenants that live in the complex. Each of them forelay their pity, making way as you hold onto a good, progressive fight up the elevator shaft. Huffing and puffing like the village idiot you were, your breathing becomes shallow and pained, working with the high intensity of your emotions.

You are a heartbroken maudlin who is about to get married in two days to a man who you couldn't love with your whole heart. No one could ascribe to this uncertainty but you. It's a shitty feeling and mixed with alcohol, the whole world is about to know that crockpot of disparity.

"Christopher Evans!" You pound your fist against the wooden panel door, jiggling the knob as you normally wouldn't, making an imposition out of your own debauchery.

Chris is peacefully laid up on the couch when the loud, thunderous knocking interrupts his long awaited slumber. He doesn't sleep much for various, sometimes unknown, reasons. Tonight he's quietly picking his head up to see his son passed out on the loveseat across from him, mouth agape while the TV is slow rolling the end credits to the Princess Bride. It puts an easy smile on the fathers face who sees his sons peace as his own.

"Open up!" You funnel your hands to act as a megaphone while you boom and beckon for your ex.

Your impatience is a chorusing call for Chris as he slowly rubs his tired face. The wall clock tells him that it's 1 am in the morning and not a passing second sends you away or brings you to your senses.

Chris grovels, flips on the foyer lights before finding the door knob and opening the door. Your body reactively lurches forward, bracing the frame and nearly falling over when his full figure comes into view.

It's one of the rare pleasantries that comes at a fraction of the cost and you definitely trouble him for his two cents.

"Oh!" You stand up a little straighter, your blooming chest heaves while you're panicked and out of breath.

You didn’t think this far ahead. You just showed up and Chris simply looks to you all disheveled and pouty, eyes narrowing as your intoxicated pride is strung a mile high.

"Y/N?" He manages to say, his face crumpling up with concern. “What are you..."

“Where’d we go wrong Chris?” You cut straight to the chase. It's a loaded question that has Chris unremorseful, disorienting the pieces of the large jigsaw puzzle before offering his best rebuttal.

“You're drunk.” So you didn't know.

“Can you just answer the damn question.” You meander your words in a exasperated, whiny tone.

“Our son is asleep right now, let’s not do this alright?" Chris warns you.

You only cared about your son. Your entire existence was around him. You fought for him and Chris fought right back. Joint custody as they say, was the underlying dissolution of your marriage, the only reason you came around and the only reason he'd be there.

“You filed for a divorce behind my back.” You state, throwing it right back in his face with the partial truth.

Your union with Chris was a beautiful mess. There wasn't many arguments just doubts and over time, you knew it was inevitable. You saw the separation lines being drawn up. You overheard the hushed, late night phone calls that Chris would have with his manager, publicist and lawyer. A team that once ran you through what it meant to be Chris Evans wife, what it meant to openly walk in his shadow. It was an accumulative process that broke you after coming to a full stop.

With will and way. Everything came undone.

When Chris’s highly esteemed lawyer served you the notice one summer afternoon, you were embittered, painted as the bad wife. To the press, you became the selfishly aloof small town girl who couldn’t handle her famous husbands success, who could’ve possibly had a pandering love affair with one of his friends from Boston. The dilapidated housewife was the common denominator and point of reference that you couldn't seemingly shake off. The odds were stacking up against you when Chris had proven to be the best husband, leaving you behind in the dust.

But then to add insult to injury, the line of communication got staticky. Everything fell out of place, the settlements were being laid out, there was talks of alimony and court briefings. Not a second was spared for a proper explanation let alone a fulsome goodbye. In the dulling moments of your marriage, Chris couldn’t tell you why he had given up and you faithfully let him have his way. Maybe because you were trying to not seem crazy or demanding of an answer, one that you might've not been fond of hearing.

“Why'd you do it?"

"Why?" Chris reiterates with disbelief, slowly loosing his tiredness.

"Yes! Why?" You voice breaks, your clenched phone is vibrating in your hands. You're getting countless incoming calls from your friends who are probably looking for you while you're having an intense standoff.

"It’s been five years Y/N, you never wanted to know why. Where is this coming from?”

"Five years?" You choke. The perception of time is now beyond you. Chris saying it the way he did wasn't meant to hurt you. But sometimes the truth hurts. You and Chris have been separated for five unassuming years now. This would’ve be known to you but then there’s that tunneling sliver of hope you hold onto along with your obliviousness that is convoluted because Chris has always been around, not for you but for your son, his son, Ben.

It’s hard to tell. Your dynamic with Chris has always been cordial, vying for all the good parts that come out of your amicable separation. It wasn’t meant to be an endowing realization but there is that admission, it is harrowing and slightly troublesome.

“Oh my god."

"Y/N." Chris groans, he's inadvertently apologetic. He sees that you're hurting, winces when you retreat with crestfallen tears that spill.

"What am I doing?" You ask yourself as you bury your wet face in the palm of your hands.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow? Please?” Chris insists, a hand grazing your elbow and holding you there.

"I can't believe you." You start up again while standing your stubborn ground, shrugging away his ghosting touch.

"Y/N just come inside."

“You thought it was okay to leave me, to leave us. Our son, because you felt like it? Is that it?" You maliciously prod.

"That's not it. I wanted—“

"No! No you don't get to be holier than thou. You don't get to live your life and then tell me to move on with mine because that's what you think is best for us. You don't."

"So what? This is on me now?" Chris punitively lowers his gaze at you.

"I never got a say Chris! None of this would've been on you if there was some way of choice."

"And then what?” Chris immediately shakes his head, not wanting to spiral into a heated and regretful debate. “Okay, listen, we really can't be having this conversation, not out here and not like this."

"Drunk words are sober thoughts, Christopher. So to hell, we're having this conversation.”

"You're getting married, Y/N." Chris exasperates under his breath. "Everything between us has already been said and done. You can’t just turn up wanting to know how, when or why, it shouldn’t even matter anymore."

"It matters to me. I was served the notice, I signed it, I never asked the questions when I should've and now I just need to know.”

Chris draws in a deep breath and then bows his head with some digressing thought.

“Has it ever occurred to you that we weren't good for one another and that we inevitably saw each other out?”

His rhetoric stuns you but it's instantaneous as you rebut back.

"Oh that’s bullshit.” Chris shakes his head, refusing to meet your eye. “That's... We were talking about having another child Chris! We were working towards something, getting somewhere."

"Somewhere to nowhere." Chris iterates. Pin drop silence.

"I thought you loved me.” You finally hiccup.

“I did and then I realized it was just me.” Right through the heart.

"Wow, okay.” You sway in and out your thoughts. Chris knows he didn't mean that. He would take it back in a heartbeat if he could because seeing you shatter was the last the vial of immanency he felt.

“You know, I could never find it in myself to hate you Chris because you do such a stand up job at being the right kind of man. You’re perfect." You edge away with tears floating in your eyes, words of culpable despair echo for Chris to sink into. "And Ben has only ever gotten lucky with you."

"That's not true." Chris quickly offers, reclaiming the situation with more pity that churns your insides.

"You wouldn't know. You two are basically cut from the same cloth." You pathetically sob.

"Y/N." Chris patronizes.

"Look I shouldn't have come by tonight and you'll remember much of this more than I will so do me solid." You stop to stare him dead in the eyes. "And tell me to fuck off when you see me at the wedding. Or better yet, don’t come.”

You walk away as Chris adamantly calls out your name.

Hurt takes you home and closure puts you to sleep.

* * *

Two lonesome days later, Chris walks around the apartment on the morning of your wedding. Everything is a rush job, a distraction, as he's frantically trying to rally his son out the door. In the midst of the chaos, Chris can't help but think of you. His brain noise keeps relaying your convictions, piggy backing on your pain as his own guilty submission. What was he supposed to do now?

"Can you help me with my tie?" Ben exclaims while skipping out of the guest bedroom. Chris who was polishing his wing tips, looks over his shoulder and eyes his son who looks dapper in his custom made suit. There's a glimmer of emotion that passes Chris's azure orbs as he graces a fatherly smile and then calls the young boy over.

"Yeah sure." The boy hurrahs and bounds his way over, crowing his neck after handing his father the tie. Chris grabs ahold of the silky material and starts to work around the bow tie to the best of his ability.

"Are you okay?" Ben hesitantly begins while watching Chris intently knot each loop, struggling at first but then getting there soon after.

"Yeah why wouldn't I be?" Chris answers, giving him a small passing look that doesn't convince the young boy one bit.

"I don't know." He shrugs haphazardly. Chris stops after adjusting the ends of the bow tie and then notices Ben's long face. Something is up.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He carefully croons, holding the child by the forearms while remaining mindful of the time that clocks on. Ben exhales longingly, lips flapping like any other distressed youngling.

"I thought you'd be with mommy." He whines, eyes filling up with sadness that could stake any father alive.

"I mean that's..." Not a stretch. Chris still yearns to be around you. His heart still reservedly beats for your presence even after the separation. He waits for you on your drop off days just so he could see your warm smile and hold onto the light conversation you'd make about your work day. He tells himself that if he's allowed to have that then he shouldn’t ask for anything more. Loving you from afar was the best he could do and for his child it was never enough.

"Do you love her, dad?"

"I want the best for her, sure." Chris rephrases, pulling on the lapels of Ben's dress coat, patting down his hair and then placing a broad hand on the little boys cheek.

"That's not what I asked." The 10 year old says, just like his mother he's adamant and swelling with knowingness.

Chris smiles apologetically and that's when his phone rings. It's Madi, the wedding planner who is probably wondering where the ring bearer was.

"C'mon we need to get going." The little boy huffs as they both shuffle out the of the unit together giving Chris a lot of time to mull over his thoughts and over to you.

* * *

They say the universe works in mysterious ways. Sometimes it's favorable and sometimes it's the unexpected. No two instances are a coincidence but simply a second chance in disguise.

"What's going on?" Chris breathlessly hurries over to your mother who shakes her head sadly and watches the crowd of loved ones scatter outside of the old Charlottetown church.

"He left." Your mother confesses to your ex. She's never understood why Chris became the one who got away when he's been the right man all along. But like any other mother she tries not voice her reason, only keeping her head tilted back, watchful and reverent of Chris who now has all the wheels turning in his head.

"What?" He unintentionally hisses, looking around to hear the pointed whispers in tune of your misfortune. It's unfair. You weren't owed this. You deserved your peace, your happiness, your moment.

"The scumbag didn't say a word."

"Where is she?" Chris commands.

"Still down at the altar." Your mother sighs, disappointment seeps her form. Chris briefly eyes his former mother in law who presumably had her own ruminating thoughts.

"Hey buddy I want you to stay with your grandmother, alright?"

Ben nods and then quickly holds onto his fathers hand, squeezing it as tight as he could to drive the message home. "She loves you dad. She always has."

Your mother purses her lips as Chris painfully looks up at her. "Just go, I'll keep an eye on him."

"Thanks Etta." Chris frees himself to find his way to you. His heartbeat hammers. It's the first time he's unable to breathe. He doesn't know what to say or how to react but apart of him is thankful and piecing together what he should've said that night.

Chris gradually walks down the aisle and right by the pews, he sees you with your best friend who does his job of wiping your tears. You're gutted. You're deteriorating demise still radiates beauty in a timelessly slim fitting white satin gown. You move animatedly as if you're arguing but then your body language falters, you've given up and that's when Chris appears in the frame.

Your best friend looks at him and smiles wobbly. She’s as distraught but she's also glad that Chris is around, leaving you alone in his care.

You peer up at him through your long, inky lashes. Nothing like this moment prepares you for how you're about to feel. It's a sickening revelation that has you grappling at his mercy and comfort.

“I’m so sorry.” Chris reclaims the seat next you, his hand reaching for yours and you let him.

“It’s fine, I had it coming anyways.”

“You didn’t deserve that.”

“I don't know what I deserve anymore." Your eyes crystalize with tears and Chris studies the proportions of your face that mirrors the brokenness of your soul. "I mean tried, I gave him my everything, I let him in and yet I came up empty handed. But I guess that's how life works, right?"

You sniff and glance at your knotted hands, not willing to cry in front of Chris who is dying to hold you close.

"Is, um, Ben here?" Your voice cracks.

"He's with your mother."

"Lovely." Chris stares at your side profile that quivers with restraint and strong will. "Thanks for, um, coming - I mean this is one way to tell me to fuck off."

You laugh flatly as Chris tilts his head at you and that's when the boughs come breaking down. Your face streaming with hot tears that instinctively has Chris pulling you into his embrace, one hand on the back of your head while the other is situated on the square of your back.

"I would never." Chris whispers in your hair as you calm down and retreat from the familiar warmth of his hug.

"About the other night... I'm so—“

"Can I say something? And please don't apologize, I'm serious."

"Yeah sure." You notice reverend Jackson passing through the mantle, giving you a kind gentle smile. His subtle actions musters your strength as Chris quietly voices his sonance.

"I'm glad you came by that night. I'm glad you said what you had to say. And to answer your question: we went wrong in all the right ways.” Chris softly states, holding you at arms length and watching your face slowly contort. "We did everything by the book Y/N, we got married, had a kid, our careers took off and then we stopped being their for one another."

"We got comfortable and then at some point we became distant. That imaginary spark was gone.” Chris stops himself not knowing if he should continue but with your prolonged silence he flourishes a bit.

“You were the hardest person to love on some days but that didn’t stop me from loving you the same. You know that?” Chris admits. Your tears are free falling, warming your cheeks in remission.

"God was that it?" You finally exhale.

"I'm an idiot Y/N and the truth is that I was trying to be some sacrificial martyr in our marriage, thinking that if I kept you away you'd be happier, fully yourself and not in the shadows of my fame and fortune. I wanted to be the one to give you a way out, an ultimatum, all because of my own relenting fears and insecurities.”

"And how's that worked out for you?" You sniff.

"Horribly because I've realized the best part of me has always been you."

"Chris." You sternly chide him and he shakes his head.

"No you're going to want to hear this, at least before you decide to swear me off for good."

"Okay, fine." You shut your eyes and swallow the growing knot in your throat.

"I want you to know that Ben is nothing like me because he's kind and he's soulful and he reminds me of what an amazing mother you are and what an eternally grateful man I am. He's lucky to have me because you mean the world to him."

"I don't think that's necessarily the case."

"But it is. He loves you so much Y/N and I..." You look at him expectantly and Chris tries not to double down on his words. "I love you too."

"Like a husband should love his wife." He finishes with an underlying proposition. "And I... I don't know how to shamelessly ask you this but marry me again Y/N. Come back home, our home, with me, just us and Ben of course."

Chris laughs, tearfully and choked up.

"Please? Please.”

"This is going to be work. You and I, we're work.” You're full of chagrin as Chris nods, whispers an 'Oh I know' before gently grabbing a hold of your tear stained face and leaning in to seal his affirmations with a kiss.

As your lips slotted over his, the lost spark is reignited.

There is newfound love. Newfound perspective. Love that'll require work but it's love nonetheless. Love that you've both silently fought for and now conquer.

[isamijoo]

Accident

Written for @drarrymicrofic prompt 'star-crossed', which means 'thwarted by bad luck'. Word count: 1111. Rating: General. Features Quidditch Player Harry, while Draco is a chemist/potioneer/pharmacist at St Mungo's. Warning tags: Physical / Quidditch Injuries. Set at Emergency/ER Department.

This is actually part of something longer I wrote for H/D Owlpost that I abandoned to write something else. But I liked this first scene so I'm sharing it. Unbetaed so all mistakes are mine. Please enjoy!

///

The last sensation Harry remembered before he blacked out was the flutter of the snitch's wings against his fingers and the feel of the golden sphere in his fist.

He realised later, upon waking up on a hospital bed surrounded by teal curtains, that in his desperate haste to catch the snitch, he had overreached and fallen off his Firebolt 360.

Everything was too bright even before he opened his eyes. He turned his head to the side with a groan. He raised a hand to cover his face, but the motion caused a sharp pain to shoot from his left shoulder.

His yelp of pain attracted the attention of the medical staff. A mediwitch shoved the curtain aside and hurried to his side.

"Please don't move, Mr Potter," she implored. Her face came into focus when she peered at Harry, who realised that he wasn’t wearing his glasses. "Can you tell me where it hurts?"

It wasn't just his shoulder. He was hurting everywhere. Unable to give a verbal response, Harry shook his head.

The witch frowned. "You need potions. Please wait here for a moment. Don't move," she repeated before backing out, leaving the curtain open.

The curtain must have been laced with Noise-Repelling Charm; it had been quiet when Harry first gained consciousness but now, with the curtain pulled back, Harry's head hurt from the loud noises.

He tried to distract himself from the pain by thinking about the match. He was sure his team had won the game. His team's score was ahead of the opponent's when he first located the snitch and dove straight for it. He had a reason to finish the game as soon as possible. Harry had something very important tonight.

Speaking of that, what time was it?

He was still wearing his Quidditch uniform. He found his wand in its usual spot (in a holster strapped to his thigh) and cast a Tempus. It was half-past five o'clock. Good. Good. Now he just needed to get home and get ready before seven—

"Mr Malfoy!" the earlier Mediwitch's voice exclaimed from outside the curtain, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. "Thank goodness you're here. That patient has been prescribed with Skele-Repair and painkillers. We're short-handed at the moment. Could you please—"

"Thank you, Laila. I have the prescription right here," the voice that often featured in Harry's dreams replied. "Let me handle it."

Draco Malfoy pushed back the curtain and sauntered in, carrying a leather satchel and a clipboard. Harry couldn't see his face clearly, but he recognised that shade of blond hair and stiff posture anywhere.

Harry tried to sit up but stopped when Malfoy snapped at him, "Don’t move!”

Harry could only stare at the ceiling as the blond drew the curtain, cutting off the noise. Malfoy’s blurry figure moved to the bedside table near the head of Harry’s bed. There was a clattering sound of glass bottles clinking together.

Then Malfoy leaned over him and pushed his glasses onto his face. Harry’s senses were assaulted by the musky scent of Malfoy as he blinked to adjust his vision.

Now he could stare at Malfoy properly. The blond's grey eyes were glaring at him, pink lips twisted in exasperation. The harsh light made his hair appear white, and his yellowish green robes took on an unsightly hue.

“I’m amazed you're still in possession of all your limbs,” Malfoy huffed, reaching into his satchel. He worked as he talked, placing a ceramic cup and a couple of multicoloured vials onto the bedside table. He emptied the vials into the cup and stirred the concoction with a glass rod. “A fifty-meter drop! A concussion! Soft tissue injuries all over! At least five closed nondisplaced fractures!”

“I’m sorry,” said Harry.

Malfoy rolled his eyes before casting a spell at the cup. Nodding at the results, he took another small vial from a pocket of his robes. “Painkiller Potion,” he clarified, holding a dropper that contains pink liquid above Harry’s lips. “Open up.”

Harry obeyed, gulping when the potion slid down his throat. Within several seconds, the pain all over his body diminished down to a more tolerable level. He attempted to sit up again, but Malfoy’s hand on his chest pinned him in place.

“Shh, slowly,” Malfoy murmured. He slipped a hand under Harry’s head and held him as Harry drank the potion from the ceramic cup. The brew cooled Harry’s throat and sent a numbing chill throughout his body.

“Better?” Malfoy extracted his hand and put the cup away. He returned to Harry’s side and sat on the mattress, the tension gone from his shoulders now that Harry had taken his potion.

“Yeah, thank you,” Harry said, finally able to sit up and look at Malfoy at the same eye level. “I thought your shift ended at five?”

“It did.” Malfoy shrugged. “But then I heard Harry Potter is at casualty after falling off his broom during a Quidditch game,” — he narrowed his eyes at Harry when he said all this— “and I know my expertise is needed.”

“Thank you,” Harry said again, smiling as he reached for Malfoy’s hand. “You know, there’s still time. If we leave now—”

Malfoy squeezed Harry’s fingers before letting go. “Forget it, Potter. You were injured. And you just finished a game. Get some rest.”

“But.” Harry’s body stiffened in protest. “But I’m really serious about going on a date with you tonight. I even caught the snitch today in record time.”

The corner of Malfoy’s lips twitched as though stifling a smile. “Congratulations.”

Harry’s shoulders sagged. “Are you angry with me?”

Malfoy hesitated for a moment. “I may have been looking forward to our date as well,” he admitted, avoiding Harry’s eyes. “I should have known something would go wrong.”

“Hey, I didn’t want this to happen.” Harry pouted, affronted. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to ask you out?

“Perhaps you can tell me next time,” Malfoy said before standing up. “Let’s cancel tonight, Potter. Go home and rest.” He pulled out a piece of parchment from his satchel and handed it to Harry.

“What’s this?” Harry studied the parchment, which had rows of names and columns with dates for the entire month. Malfoy’s name had been circled with red ink.

“My work roster. So you’ll know when I’ll be free,” said Malfoy. “For a date.”

Harry could only grin at Malfoy before his teammates made an appearance. Amidst the greetings and back-slapping and cheers, Malfoy disappeared past the curtains. But with the other wizard's roster folded neatly in his hands, Harry was assured that he would see Malfoy again.

[waywardnerd67]

The Queen’s Court - Chap 26 Three Little Words

Summary: (Y/N) calls Dean after a session gone wrong. Instead of her meeting his needs, he decides to meet hers leading to an overdue confession. Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Angst/Fluff/Smut Word Count: 502 Squared Filled: Against the Wall A/N #1: This is for @spnkinkbingo​ card A/N #2: As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

Check Out: The Queen’s Court Masterlist

“D-Dean… please come over. I-I need you.” (Y/N) had shakily said when she called Dean while sitting on her couch trembling.

When Lorelei had called into her office saying a client of hers wanted to meet, she had no idea what would end up happening. As (Y/N) started to run through every detail again she heard the front door open.

“(Y/N)?” Dean called out as he walked into the living room.

He rushed over to her when he saw tears streaking down her face, “What happened?”

(Y/N) began to explain how Jeremy stormed into her office, “Hey was yelling about how Lorelei informed him it would be their last session together since she was going to be taking over The Queen’s Court. He grabbed a hold of my shoulders, pushing me against the wall and pinned me there. He called me all sorts of horrible names and threatened me.”

“Did he hurt you?” Dean began checking over her body and then saw the bruises forming on her upper arms, “Son of a bitch I’m gonna kill him.”

Dean got up rushing towards the door with (Y/N) hot on his heels, “No Dean, please I need you...” she called out wrapping her arms around her waist.

He stopped dead in his tracks before turning around and closing the distance between them. Rather it was adrenaline coursing through her body or the primal need to feel close to someone she trusted when their lips collided basic instinct stepped in. (Y/N) stripped off her dress pants kicking them to the side as Dean pushed his jeans and boxers down around his ankles. He picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist and pressing her back against the nearest wall.

His mouth on hers again, he thrusted his cock deep inside her. His body pressed firmly against hers creating a delicious friction between them with each forceful snap of his hips. She clung onto him digging her nails into his t-shirt. His thrusts were coming faster and faster, Dean buried his head into her neck mumbling.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you,” He held her hips firmly snapping against her, bringing her closer to the edge, “Love you so much.”

Pleasure rocked through her body at the exact moment crying out Dean’s name as she felt his own release emptying inside of her. He held her there against the wall holding himself inside of her as their eyes connected.

“I love you, (Y/N).” He whispered as silence fell between them for a moment, “I know you said that to me a while ago and I never said anything in return. You don’t have to say anything back I just wanted you,”

(Y/N) kissed him, keeping him from rambling, “I love you too, Dean.”

A wide smile broke across his face as he leaned in kissing her again, “Say that one more time.”

She started laughing as he hugged her to his body, “I love you, Dean.”

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

My Nerd Herd: @waywardbaby​ @ladywinchester1967​ @akshi8278​ @ericaprice2008​ @deans-baby-momma​ @spnbaby-67​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @carryonmywaywardcaptain​ @-lovepeacenhope-​ @destiel745​ @carribear31​ @srsllydunnodoncare​ @whimsicalrobots​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @starstruckzonkoperatorbat​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @bella-ca​ @drakelover78​ @imascio08​ @pisces-cutie​ @dwgrl1903-blog​ @mannls​ @the-salty-asian​ @winchesterprincessbride​ @xostephanie​ @superromijn​ @witch-of-letters​ @time-travel-bouqet​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @myinconnelly1​ @sister-winchesters99​ @thekatherinewinchester​ @maddiepants​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @sandlee44​ @destielhoneybee​ @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @thefaithfulwriter​ @stoneyggirl​ @supernaturalginger​ @emoryhemsworth​ @wednesdayismyfunday​ @team-free-will-you-idjiot​ @atc74​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @casseythebee​

[marvel-redemption-omega]

Of Outlaws and Family

https://marvel-redemption-omega.tumblr.com/post/620348987402256384/of-outlaws-and-familyChapter Seven: Ride of Passion

A/N: AHHHH I am happy we are here! This was such a treat to write! Being this is a story, obviously things are not at all accurate (you’ll see what I mean once you read it) buuuuut it is a story so, yeah. Shh we’ll just play it off as super high pain tolerance? Yeah, that’s what we’ll do, lol. Don’t judge me for my choices, I’m living vicariously through my own writing okay? Oh, guess I should mention this is High Honor Arthur, it’s the only way I’ve played him. Haven’t done my Low Honor run yet. Unbeta-d, all mistakes are mine.

Warnings: Cursing, gang violence, sexual references/innuendos, domestic violence, threats, character injury, character death (O’Driscolls), worried/protective Arthur, protective John, asshole Jessie, 18+/sexual themes: ADULT THEMES; IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 TURN AROUND; GO AWAY; DO NOT PASS GO; DO NOT COLLECT TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS

Start here: https://marvel-redemption-omega.tumblr.com/post/620167374619951104/of-outlaws-and-family-chapter-one-new-beginnings

Last Chapter: https://marvel-redemption-omega.tumblr.com/post/620348987402256384/of-outlaws-and-family

Please enjoy! Hearts and repubs are greatly appreciated!

My work is not to be posted elsewhere; I will post it to my AO3 and dA if I so choose.

Word Count: 11,300

“Want me to ride with y’all part of the way? I ain’t got nothing to do the rest of today and nothin in the mornin,” Jessie offers as he helps James into the saddle of his grey-blue Arabian between Fancy and Shamrock. Scarlet climbs into her saddle on Shamrock, glancing over at him.

“Can he, Ma? I’d like to spend some more time with Pa,” James asks, chocolate eyes warm and happy. She feigns an irritated sigh and nods, gesturing to Fancy.

“Might as well since you’re here. I hope you know I can’t take that Arabian with us. I have too many horses as is,” she explains as her son’s father slings himself into the saddle, making Fancy prance to the right to keep from stumbling into the Arabian.

“I think I’m gonna call her...Storm!” James cheers as the filly tosses her head.

“I can’t believe you bought him a new horse. I get that you wanna be in his life more but he won’t be ridin by himself anytime soon, surely you know that? An I can’t keep anymore, be it for him or not. I have full stables,” she angrily whispers to Jessie over James’ head. He shrugs and pets Fancy’s neck.

“Come on. We have a long way back from here,” he answers, brushing off her concern. James hesitantly kicks the Arabian and holds tight to the reins as she starts to walk forward. Fancy, seeing James moving, immediately follows and rides beside him. Scarlet gives Shamrock a kick, her spurs digging in more than her heels could, and rides on the other side of the Arabian so James is blocked in by them.

“Yeah, that’s cause someone wants to live in Saint Denis to be close to his parents,” she snips as she unties her hat from the saddle and puts it on. A red neckerchief, her rodeo gift from Arthur, sits proudly around her neck. Jessie sighs, not knowing exactly what life she’s been living, after reading about her burned down house.

They ride in silence from Saint Denis until they reach Rhodes. As they enter Lemoyne, Scarlet notes the Raiders watching them and talking rapidly to each other in hushed tones. One of them points and she feels her stomach twist.

Jessie is currently teaching James how to train Storm to listen to neck-reining, demonstrating on Fancy. The bay mustang snorts and flattens her ears at him, biting at her bit, but listens if only for James’ sake. James follows the instructions and laughs when Storm listens.

The farther into Lemoyne they go, the tighter the knot in Scarlet’s stomach gets. She slows Shamrock, grabs Storm’s reins and halts her too, much to the Arabian’s dismay. Fancy and Shamrock flick their ears and look around, both side-stepping closer to James and Storm.

“It’s too quiet. There’s not even any birds. No owls, no deer,” Scarlet murmurs as she looks at the setting sun. Rustling to their left startles the Arabian and she bolts with James on her back, yanking the reins from Scarlet’s hand.

“James!” Jessie and Scarlet yell as they kick their horses to follow. Fancy and Shamrock sprint after Storm, crossing the border of Lemoyne and New Hanover.

They run up on a small group of riders in front of James, who is trying to see past the horses of the men blocking him from his Arabian. Scarlet tenses as she notes their coats. There’s at least twelve of them.

“Storm? Storm!” James cries for his horse.

O’Driscolls, she thinks. Dread seeps into her bones as she pulls up on Shamrock until he’s trotting. Fancy follows Scarlet’s orders, despite Jessie urging her to a gallop. They stop when one of the riders, the leader of the group, slips off his horse, pistol in hand. Scarlet’s hand grabs her revolver out of reflex, slowly un-holstering it as he steps close to James.

“What’s the matter, Boy?” The man asks, nodding his head to the men behind him. Two of them break off and head to the left, where Scarlet glances and sees Storm eating grass. The duo lasso the Arabian and start to lead her back.

“My horse, she got spooked and ran then threw me. I need her so I can go back an ride with my parents, Mister,” he meekly replies, stumbling back with each step forward the man takes.

“Oi! Leave my boy alone!” Scarlet yells, making Shamrock walk forward. James turns around and smiles, a happy shout of “Ma!” from him as he sees his parents. The man takes two quick steps and snatches a hold of James, gun pointed to his head.

“Mama!” James cries, eyes wide as both his parents ride closer. The man behind him cocks the hammer and presses the barrel into his temple. He whimpers and keeps his eyes on his mother. “Don’t let them take me, Mama.”

“Well, well, well boys, would ya look at what we got here. Miss O’Hara, didn’t know you had a son, nor a husband,” the O’Driscoll man sneers and starts to drag James back towards his horse. The other men laugh as the two from earlier ride up with Storm, filtering into the back of the group.

“Give me my boy and the horse and maybe I’ll let you snakes go,” she seethes, hammer cocked as she brings it up to aim at the man, straight between his eyes. Jessie stares in horror, eyes about as wide as his son’s, as he watches Scarlet slip off Shamrock’s back and walk forward.

Shots ring loud as Scarlet pops off three shots. Three men fall off their horses, who all spook and run off, dragging their dead riders as their feet are stuck in the stirrups. The man with James aims his gun at her and fires, the sound momentarily deafening James. He brings his hands up to his ears, around the man’s elbow grip on his throat; he stumbles as he’s dragged backwards even more. Scarlet slides behind a boulder off to her right, peeking out and aiming at the two who have Storm.

Storm rears and starts bucking, yanking the two men from their horses as she bolts. They grumble and holler, letting go of the rope, figuring the horse a lost cause. They scramble to their feet and draw their rifles from their horses. Scarlet curses the Arabian’s fear and sends her last three bullets into the closest O’Driscoll.

Fancy keeps her gaze on James, ignoring Jessie’s many attempts to get her moving. She stands firm even when he digs his heel into her side, snorting in warning. Shamrock rears and stomps the ground, neighing and riling up the other horses who weren’t spooked by the gunshots. Fancy snorts and neighs angrily as the man shoves James to one of the men in the back who hogties him and tosses him on the back of the leader’s horse.

“Not a chance. You want him, you can join him or come and get him. I’m sure Colm will be rather pleased to see you. We’ll be at Dead Man’s Keep, out by Hanging Dog Ranch,” the leader jeers and shoots at the rock, barely missing Scarlet as she ducks just in time. She pops her revolver open, dropping the hot and smoking shells, and fumbling to add another six. A string of curses flies from her lips as she clicks it closed and spins it. She drags the hammer back and aims at the leader, shooting him between the eyes. There’s a storm raging behind her eyes and she drags the hammer back again, moving to aim at one of the others.

A loud crack echos through the valley and Scarlet tumbles back. Searing, scorching, burning pain races from her shoulder and down her arm and chest. She cries out and glances down to her right shoulder. Blood’s soaking through her shirt and staining the blue material. She looks up and locks eyes with the man who shot her, he climbs onto the leader’s horse and snaps the reins as he turns the horse.

Scarlet stumbles back to Shamrock, left foot in the stirrup as she starts urging him to go. Fancy tosses her head and starts galloping, leading the stallion. Scarlet swings into the saddle and curses as she struggles to holster her gun. Once she does, she snatches the reins and snaps them, kicking Shamrock at the same time. He whinnies and turns his gallop into a run. Fancy follows on his heels, reins pulled from Jessie’s hands. He’s frozen in the saddle for the most part, his reality shattering as the realization dawns on him that his son’s been kidnapped. He grabs the reins and posts himself to Fancy’s run.

“I’m gonna get him back. I need you to get someone for me. Fancy!” She yells, turning slightly to look at the duo. The mustang flicks her ears towards her owner, patiently waiting for orders. Scarlet purses her lips and lets out reverse wolf whistle. Fancy stretches her stride and breaks off from Shamrock, taking the trail to the left.

“You can’t go alone!” Jessie yells at her as Shamrock slows for a moment.

“I have to. You ain’t got any guns! You’d be useless to me!”

“You just got shot!”

“I’ll be fine. I’m goin to get my son back. Just tell’em that O’Driscoll’s ambushed us got James and I went after them. Tell’em to meet me at Dead Man’s Keep! HYAH!” She squeezes her thighs while simultaneously kicking Shamrock. The mustang-thoroughbred tosses his head and sprints away from Fancy, the mare picking her run back up as they separate.

Jessie struggles to keep in the saddle as Fancy only seems to be going faster with each stride. He can hear her panting and tries to slow her a few times, only for her to turn her head and nip his his foot or leg and continue her relentless pace. He throws one arm up as a shield as she runs right into a section of trees. Twigs snap under her feet and brittle branches break on his arm, leaves smacking him in the sides and face. He vaguely hears someone shout out a warning and then he’s on the ground.

Fancy’s bucking and causing a riot. Jessie notices there are other horses that are getting stirred up and joining her in her chaos. He glances around and swallows as he sees all the tents and wagons around, one he recognizes as the one he got Scarlet. He looks back at Fancy.

“What in Sam’s Hill?! Dutch growls as he hears Sean yelling for someone to stop their horse before he shoots. He, Hosea, and Arthur share a look and get up, guns drawn as they head over to the horses. Dutch motions for Abigail to get Jack to the back of camp.

“Hey, that’s Fancy. Where’s Scarlet? And who the hell is that?” Arthur mutters crossly.

“Dunno, but we’ll find out,” Dutch responds and readies both his pistols. Arthur nods and heads over to the horse, knowing Dutch and the others can handle the one man, who he assumes was the one who rode Fancy into their camp.

Jessie feels the gun before he hears the click of the hammer. He slowly stands when instructed and turns to face the assailant. His eyes bulge when he turns and comes face to face with none other than Dutch Van der Linde and his gang. He looks over at Fancy, who’s being called by a man in a tan jacket and black hat, a hat that looks similar to Scarlet’s. He watches for a moment as the man easily grabs Fancy’s reins, pulls her from a rear, and has her calm in a matter of seconds. She snorts and paws at the ground, nudging the man and then pulling towards Jessie.

“Who the hell are you?” Dutch’s voice is thick with malice as he keeps his gun trained on the man.

“Jessie.”

“I don’t care about your damn name, Son. Who the hell are you? Why are you ridin Scarlet’s horse?” He growls in warning, cocking his pistols. Jessie holds his hands up as he backs away from Dutch, into the cold barrel of Sean’s rifle behind him.

“I-I-I, umm, there was this gang! We was riding an one of the horses spooked and we ran from Lemoyne to here but were ambushed. Just outside Emerald Ranch. Please, Mister, you gotta help me get my boy back.”

“That still don’t tell me who you are, Boy. I won’t ask you again,” Dutch warns as he and the others press close in a circle around him. Jessie looks around the group of men, eyes settling on the man who calmed Fancy.

“They said they’d be holding them up at Dead Man’s Keep! I don’t know much about this country. I’m from Saint Denis, honest! Uhh, the name of the gang...she said O’something… O’Malley?” He stutters, trying to remember the name of the gang Scarlet had shouted at him.

“Dead Man’s Keep?” Arthur mutters to himself, trying to figure out why that name sounded familiar.

“Strike one, enamigo,” Javier trains his gun on the trembling man’s chest.

“Umm, O’Desry?” He tries again.

“Strike two.” Sadie states; a few other guns cock as Jessie looks back around the group.

“Fuck! Scarlet said to tell y’all she was goin to get James back! Said them damned O’Driscolls got him!” He snapped and took a step towards Sadie. Dutch lowers his guns, but just barely. Arthur grabs Jessie by the front of his shirt, balling it up and bringing him so they’re face to face.

“So you let her go alone?! What’s wrong with you?! Why didn’t you go after him and send her here?!” He bellows, face red in anger. Jessie blinks and tries to pull himself free of Arthur’s grip.

“I didn’t let her do nothing! She did one of her special fucking whistles and Fancy took off! The damn mare wouldn’t listen to me! I tried to stop her but she almost bit me when I did!” He yells back. He stumbles and falls on his ass when Arthur shoves him away.

“Dutch, please?” Arthur’s hands tremble in anger as he moves to the gang leader. Dutch puts his guns away, everyone else following suit, some reluctantly. “Let me go after her?”

“Go. Take who you need. Get her and that boy back in one piece. And take him with you. I don’t want him left in my camp. Send someone back if you need more people than you’re taking,” Dutch replies, eyes hard and cold as they glare daggers at Jessie.

“John, Sean, Charles, Lenny, Kieran, will you ride with me?” Arthur asks, voice projecting as he stalks towards Smoke. Fancy prances behind him, nickering and nuzzling his back. Arthur turns to pet her, carrot in hand. There’s a chorus of cheers and positive hollers as the five all whistle for their horses and mount up.

“Arthur!” Sadie walks up to him, gun in hand. He raises a brow but waits to see what she’s going to say. “Let me ride with you. I’m a good shot and I can help you. Besides, she’s my friend!” Arthur nods, he knows the duo have grown close.

“Oh alright. Get your horse.” Arthur pets Fancy, stroking her neck. “I need a favor if you can, Girl. Think you can ride with us to get your owner back? Jessie here needs a ride,” he asks the mare. She flattens her ears as she looks at Jessie and perks them up when she looks back at him before bobbing her head in what Arthur takes as a yes. He motions for Jessie to climb back on, who hesitates for a second, and Arthur pulls himself onto Smoke. “Let’s ride. Hyah!”

“Ahah! You really thought we would let you follow us here without se’tin up somethin?” One O’Driscoll laughs at Scarlet. She pulls on the rope that’s cutting into her wrists, throwing her body forward. The man holding her laughs as he easily holds her back. When she stops walking, he shoves her forward, he kicks the back of her knees when she doesn’t budge. Her knees buckle and he lets her hit her knees in the mud.

“Where’s that husband of yours? Some man,” another jeers as she is dragged back to her feet and pushed towards the house. She clenches her jaw as she slowly moves, her whole shoulder throbbing. She takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment, and lets it out slowly. She hasn’t seen James since she got here and she can feel her heartbeat nearly out of her chest.

“Not my husband…just a friend,” she manages to breathe out before she’s backhanded. She grunts and spits out blood as she steadies herself again and readies herself to go up the stairs of the porch. She’s only partially thankful for the man walking behind her, partially disgusted. He keeps brushing his hand on her lower back, hips, and ass and she’s about ready to punch him when the door opens. Colm walks out, dragging James by the arm.

“Well if it isn’t Scarlet O’Hara! What a wonderful surprise! An isn’t he just another great surprise. Tell me,” Colm drawls as he walks up to her after passing James to one of his lackies. He grips her chin harshly and forces her to look at him. “Was he born before or after the first time I met you an you denied me? Is that what that mutt a yer’s come runnin out from the bedroom to bite me fer? He why you shot my men?”

His breath smells of rotten tobacco, so she tells him as such. He backhands her hard enough she falls to her hands and knees. He snatches her up by her hair and brings her close to his face, grinning as his eyes light up with something she can’t quite place.

“How bout you come spend the night with me? After all you did ride into my camp here,” he drags her inside by her hair, stopping momentarily in the doorway. “Make sure he’s taken care of; food, water, whatever he needs. Keep him somewhere for a while. Me and Scarlet here’s gon’ have some fun.”

“Mama?” James whimpers, the man holding him by the arm pulls him back as he tries to run to her. She looks at him, eyes watering from the constant tugging of her hair, and smiles.

“Easy, my son. We’ll be ok soon. We’ll be safe, I promise you. They’re coming, they’re on their way for us,” she bites her tongue as Colm yanks on her hair, pulling her into the house. She tries to keep as close to him as she can so he isn’t tugging so hard she loses hair. Colm thinks she’s slowly caving, finally. He herds her through the hall and up the stairs to the master bedroom.

Arthur puts his binoculars away and turns Smoke to face the others. Sadie sits up straight on the blood bay that Scarlet gave her. John and Lenny look up from cleaning their guns. Kieran, Charles, and Sean all climb off their horses and join the others, all stocked to the teeth with their guns and ammo; Arthur slips off Smoke.

“Alright, they’re takin James to the barn. I’m not sure what they’re plannin on doin with him. Lenny, John, Kieran, and Jessie take the barn. Sadie, Charles, Sean, you’re with me. Remember, we don’t know what they’re gonna do if they find us here. Keep it quiet, move fast, and let’s get Scarlet and James outta here. Let’s move,” he  relays his plan. Jessie furrows his brow as he tries to comprehend what was just ordered. Lenny pushes a pistol into his chest, letting go once Jessie has it.

“You do know how to use that, right?” He asks as he leads John and Jessie down towards the barn. Jessie scowls but nods, gripping the pistol.

“Course I do,” he rolls his eyes. Kieran glances back at him and scoffs at his pompous attitude. John pulls out several throwing knives from his pocket and hands them to Jessie.

“We go in quiet first. Don’t wanna kick any trouble up if we can avoid it,” he tells them as they hide in the uncut wheat, bow drawn.

John leads them around the back of the barn to some wooden scaffolding. He helps Lenny climb up before following, Kieran and Jessie in tow. They slip in through the hayloft door and make their way to the edge of the loft, waiting for the O’Driscolls and James.

It’s not long before the barn doors are pushed open and the man shoves James forward, making the poor boy trip and stumble into the hay. He whimpers and turns to face them, crawling backwards as the few gang members press in on him. “Mama!” He yells, scared. They close the barn doors.

“Now’s our chance! Let’s go,” John whispers, motioning for everyone to get into position. He draws his bow, Lenny his knives, Kieran his hatchet, and Jessie the knives John gave him. “Steady.” He waits for the five men to move into range. “Now.” He releases the arrow, dropping one of the guys, knives and hatchets following and downing three others. The last one whirls around and aims his pistol into the loft, firing four shots into the hay. John and his team all lean against the bales and hold their breath in wait.

“Where are you?! You’ll pay for this! Either with your life! Or the boy’s!” Jessie goes to leap up but John yanks him back down, shirt clenched tight in his hand.

“Listen to me!” John hisses, keeping his voice low to keep their position secret. “He’s trying to draw us out. I understand you want James ba-”

“How could you possibly understand?! You don’t know wh-”

“I have a son!” John snaps, yanking Jessie closer, sneer on his face. “And I know that if Arthur told us to keep quiet it’s for good damn reason! Now sit down, shut up, and let me work on a plan to get your son, my nephew, back!”

Jessie stares wide eyed at John, his words sinking in and striking a nerve. He clenches his jaw but nods as John shoves him back into the hay. He points to Lenny, “go scope out the other side with Jessie here,” he orders and peeks over the bale. He points at Kieran as he drops back down when a bullet flies by. “You’re coming with me. We’re gonna try and flank this sunovabitch,” he urges Kieran to their right as the four split and make their way silently among the hay bales.

“I’ll give ya to the count of three to come out! Then the kid gets lead right between his pretty green eyes,” the O’Driscoll calls as he holds one pistol trained on James and another scanning the loft. He fires another shot as he sees movement between some bales. He quickly reloads his revolver; James is curled up in the stall with Storm, the grey mare nickering and nudging the boy in comfort.

Arthur leads his small group towards the front of the homestead. There’s a cattle pen full to their right and a sheep pen full to their left, Arthur sends Sean and Charles to the right and tells Sadie to follow him through the sheep. They slowly make their way up to the house, silently taking out any O’Driscolls they see.

He has Charles stay behind to guard the door to the house as they move in. Sadie paves their way, checking each room before waving Sean and Arthur through. She halts them as she slowly pushes the kitchen door open, revealing four O’Driscolls at the table, drinking and playing poker. She puts a finger to her lips and draws her knife. Arthur follows her lead and pulls two throwing knives from his pouch.

“Sean, get your knife ready,” Arthur orders as they get into position. Sean nods eagerly and draws his knife as he goes where Sadie tells him. Arthur sinks his blades into the chests of two of the four as Sadie and Sean grab the other two and stab them until they go limp in their arms.

“What the hell?!” The trio whirl around at the yell, an O’Driscoll standing in the doorway. He glances over his shoulder to the stairs and makes a break for it. Sean leaps at him, being the closest one to him, and tackles him. Arthur and Sadie cringe at the loud thud that resounds throughout the house. Sean rams his knife into the man’s neck as he struggles to get free.

“Best ta get goin, Boss. T’at ruckus probably alerted whoever was upstairs, Art’ur,” Sean ushers Arthur passed him and up the stairs.

“Now you know ain’t no one coming for you, why would you say something like that to the boy? Get his hopes up?” Colm coos, though it’s anything but sweet. He runs a hand down her chest, over the dress he’s forced her into. Scarlet scrunches her nose in disgust, looking up at him from her spot on the bed, the rope cutting into her wrists, binding her to the bed frame.

“He needed to know that I would be fine with the likes of you. Needed to be told somethin so he’d stay calm. Don’t want him hurt. Forgive me for tryna keep my son calm,” she snips at him, eyes defiant. Colm turns to her with a glare.

“Don’t you disrespect me!” He snarls and stalks over to the bed. She struggles to pull herself up as he backhands her again, causing her to yelp in pain. He smiles as he leans over her. She leans back as far as she can from him, her back and head pressing against the wall. A loud thud echos upstairs and Colm jerks away from her as the door busts open.

“Colm! You gotta go! Dutch’s Boys are here!” One of Colm’s men shouts. Colm grits his teeth and shoves off the bed, grabbing several bags and his pistols. He turns back to the bed and starts for it, bringing his right hand up. He swings down as his man drops dead in the doorway, intentions set on knocking her out and taking her with him. Arthur, Sadie, and Sean all appear just as Colm looks up, the diversion making his hand move lower than he wanted and cracks Scarlet good in the chest.

She gasps as the air is forced from her lungs and pain spreads like wildfire through her veins. Sean’s the first to get a shot off, missing Colm as the gang leader whistles and climbs out the window. He jumps onto his horse and kicks it, making it rear and run away from them and homestead. Arthur runs over to her, knife making quick work of the ropes as Sadie and Sean cover him, Sadie shooting out the window at Colm’s shrinking figure. She growls as he disappears from sight, several men on his tail.

“How’s the Lass?” Sean asks as he slowly moves towards the bed, hearing Scarlet’s heavy breathing as she tries to get a full breath. She waves the Irish man off and grips Arthur’s jacket tightly as he scoops her up in his arms.

“She’ll be fine. Just cover me,” he barks and makes his way down the steps, cradling Scarlet carefully against him, minding her head and legs as he passes through the doorways. Charles greets them outside and stares in disbelief at Scarlet, earning a glare from her. He chuckles and nods to the rest of the group, all walking from the barn. Jessie has the Arabian mare on a lead and John is talking with James, arm over his shoulder as they bow their heads in conversation.

“James?” Scarlet croaks, pulling Arthur’s attention. He glances at her and nods, gesturing with his chin to their right. She sighs and closes her eyes, breathing still a little ragged.

“Scarlet,” Jessie breathes a sigh of relief.

“Mama?”

“She’ll be alright, but we need to get back to camp. And you need to go back to wherever it is you live,” Arthur growls to Jessie, hold on Scarlet tightening slightly. Jessie glowers at him and gives a stiff nod. James breaks away from John and rushes Sadie, murmuring with her, trying to see what was wrong. Sadie doesn’t tell him, offering comfort by telling him his Ma is just tired. They all follow Arthur to the tethered horses.

Arthur helps Scarlet onto Smoke, the thoroughbred nickering in question to the semi-conscious female. She mumbles something to him, as she slumps down onto his neck, breathing still slightly labored. He follows her quickly, sitting behind her in the saddle, and pulls her so her back is to his chest. She opens her eyes and murmurs something he doesn’t make out.

“Hey, c’mon. Eyes on me,” he tips her head back so he can look at her face. Her green eyes meet his and she smiles, relaxing back against him. “There ya go. You good?”

“I feel like shit. He hit me pretty good,” she rubs at her eye, flinching slightly at the pull in her chest. He takes off his jacket, slipping it over her and takes her hand, leading it to the horn, where he has her hold.

“Yeah well don’t worry bout him. Little shit ran when he saw us comin. Now let’s get you guys back to camp. Dutch was pissed when you sent your….sent James’ father to camp on Fancy.”

“He’ll get over it. I have some information for him anyway. Dumbass O’Driscoll was prattling on bout some money, sounded like a lot,” she murmurs and let’s her eyes close. “I wanna sleep, please?”

“Alright. I’ve got you. It’s a long ride back to camp anyway,” Arthur agrees and takes the reins in his left hand, right arm around Scarlet, hand on hers to help keep her steady. His right hand holding hers on the horn. “Let’s get!” He calls to the rest of the group.

Sadie helps James onto Fancy, takes her reins, and ties them to Buckeye before climbing into her saddle after tying Scarlet’s bedroll onto Smoke. She just winks at John when he gestures to the bedroll. His eyes widen a bit and he tries to cover his slip of laughter into a cough, smirking as he looks between Arthur and Scarlet.

They ride in silence, everyone worn down from the raid. James and Jessie are the only ones talking, well Jessie tries to but James just asks why he didn’t try to help his Ma when they were shooting at her. He asks why he didn’t come after him in place of her. Arthur’s still alert, his adrenaline still rushing as his mind plays over different outcomes that could have been. He tries to slow his racing heart so he doesn’t wake Scarlet.

Scarlet startles awake, having only been in a very light sleep anyway, and groans as she leans back against the warm chest behind her, closing her eyes again. She reaches her left arm back and rests her hand on his thigh; opening her eyes as she realizes it’s not Jessie she’s riding with. Quickly, she tilts her head and shyly smiles up at Arthur.

“Hey, you,” she blinks.

“You alright? Took a nasty hit with that pistol,” he says softly, glancing down at her.

“Yeah, he hit my sternum. Still feel like shit though,” she manages and rubs his thigh, squeezing when Smoke abruptly sidesteps and whinnies. “Shh, hey boy, you’re good. It’s just a snake,” she soothes, letting go of Arthur’s leg to reach up and pat Smoke’s neck. He tosses his head and turns his head a little to see her, ears forward.

“That’s my boy,” Arthur murmurs to him scratching his back just in front of the saddle so he doesn’t lean on Scarlet. Smoke straightens and resumes his trot. “But you’re alright otherwise?”

“Yeah. I’ll probably be bruised but I think I’ll be fine. Bout as bad as bein trampled,” she shakes her head as she leans back into Arthur, grateful for his warmth. “I did get shot in the shoulder though, that hurts like a right bitch.”

“I’ll bet,” Arthur shifts behind her slightly, pulling her closer to him in the saddle. “If you want, we can stop and I can take a look at your shoulder, see how bad it is. You need to get alcohol on it so it don’t get infected.”

“Mm, nah. Let’s get back to camp. Don’t wanna be out here with them still milling about,” she attempts to scoot closer to him, shivering when she feels him, half hard against her rear. Her heartbeat flutters and she lets out something between a whimper and a moan. “Why, your jeans are rather tight Mr. Morgan. Are you alright?” She lets her hand fall back onto his leg, mindlessly drawing random, invisible patterns. Her head slides to his left shoulder, tilting back so she can look up at him. She smiles when she hears him curse under his breath and slows Smoke to a walk. He’s made his decision.

“Hey, Charles! Make sure everyone gets back safely? And make sure he doesn’t follow. You heard Dutch, he don’t want him back at camp. We’re gonna stop so I can tend to her shoulder; she got shot,” he explains as Charles moves up in the formation. Charles nods and takes Arthur’s position.

“Stay safe and stay warm,” Sadie hollers as she passes them, winking at the duo. James waves to them as Fancy follows Buckeye, nickering at her owner. Shamrock’s following easily behind Fancy, nickering and nudging his mother every so often.

Jessie stops the Arabian by them, eyes angry at Arthur before softening when he turns his gaze to Scarlet. John and Lenny bring up the rear, passing by Jessie as they catch up with the group, calling out to be safe and hurry back.

“I’m sorry you were shot. Do you want me to stay and help?” He offers sincerely, prepping to dismount.

“No. No thank you. Why don’t you just go back to Saint Denis? I’ll, uhh, I’ll write you when James wants to see you again. Arthur’s got me covered,” Scarlet answers for him. She squeezes his leg again as he rocks into her back slightly, looking as though he were shifting in his seat.

“Oh, umm, yes. Alright. Okay, I’ll do that then. I’m sorry, Scarlet. This isn’t how this should have gone,” he apologizes before clicking his tongue and kicking the mare.

Once he’s out of sight she rocks back against Arthur, hand rubbing down his thigh to his knee and back. She repeats this as Arthur moves Smoke into the clearing on their right.

“Can I get the tent and our bedrolls set up at least?” He groans, the uneven ground causing them to grind against each other, she whimpers.

“Sure. Maybe that will give me enough time to wash in the creek. I feel dirty, feeling his hands on me,” she retches, sticking her tongue out as she fake gags.

Arthur nods and stops Smoke, slipping from the saddle. He picks Scarlet up and sets her on her feet, handing her one of the shirts he has stored on his horse. She smiles and thanks him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before wandering down to the creek.

The water is just high enough that she can sit comfortably and rinse off the dirt, grime, and blood from her chest and shoulder. She takes her time as there’s still a pull when she reaches too far with her left arm. When she’s done, she shakes the water off the best she can, using parts of the dress she cuts to press against her shoulder as a makeshift bandage.

Arthur sets up the bedrolls and pitches the tent. Once he’s done, Scarlet walks over in just his long sleeve shirt he handed her, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. It’s big on her but his heart still jumps a little at the sight.

“C’mere,” Arthur says, hand held out in invitation as he holds open the tent flap with his other hand. She takes it and follows him into the tent, minding the small fire he has going just out front of it. Arthur shuts the flaps and pulls her to him, catching her lips in a searing kiss. It stuns her for a moment before she’s pressing herself against him, hands roaming his chest above his shirt.

He pulls back and sits down with his back to the back of the tent, a tree just on the other side stabilizing him. He gently pulls her down into his lap and cups her face, kissing her again. She pulls back from him, hands resting on his shoulders as she pulls her knees to either side of his legs, lowering herself to sit back.

“Thought you was gon’ help me with this wound?” She teases, taking his hat and tossing it onto the bedrolls on the side. He lets his head fall against her chest as she runs her hands through his hair. He grumbles and presses kisses to her left collarbone.

“Fine. Come on then,” he pats her thighs, signaling her to get off his lap so he can grab what he needs. She complies and sits on her bed, waiting as he steps out the tent. She can hear him rummaging through his saddle bags, muttering to himself. She laughs as she makes out ‘damn woman’ and ‘why she gotta tease’. He pushes the flaps aside as he maneuvers back inside. He pats his lap when he gets settled, his pouch sitting open beside him. She moves back to him, straddling him.

“Whatcha got there?” She wonders aloud, watching as he takes out an unopened bottle of whisky. He passes it to her and pulls out some cloth and wrap.

“Drink up, I’m gonna need to use some of that to pour in that wound, clean it out,” he explains as she pulls the cork out with her teeth. She stares at him, eyes widening.

“That’s gon’ burn like hell.”

“Unfortunately. Then I’ll cover it and wrap it,” he starts undoing the buttons on his shirt she’s wearing. Scarlet takes a large gulp of the alcohol, coughing slightly at the after-burn in her throat. She passes the bottle to Arthur, who sets it aside for now.

She goes to help him unbutton the shirt, but he lightly smacks her hands away, catching her eye. They stare at each other a moment, the only sound being the rustle of clothes as Arthur continues to pop the buttons. She can see how dark his eyes are, pupils dilated almost completely. He’s staring at her with lust, adoration, and something she isn’t quite sure. She knows he can see lust and adoration in her eyes too, hoping the love and bliss is contained.

Her breath hitches slightly as his hands undo the last few buttons at the top. Arthur murmurs softly to her, keeping her gaze as he slips his hands under the shirt and gingerly slips it off her shoulders and down her arms. She pulls her wrists out and he tosses it by his hat. Arthur tries not to let his eyes wander, but it’s hard when she’s bared to him, in his lap. He gulps and brings his hand up to her right shoulder, resting it on the top as he inspects the bullet hole. She rests her left hand on his shoulder and lets her right hang by her side so he can move it if he needs to.

“It’s a clean shot, went straight through. It’ll scar but you should be fine,” he assesses and reaches for the whiskey. She moves off his lap and leans back, on the opposite side of their beds. She nods when she’s ready and he moves over her, slowly pouring some of the alcohol on and in her wound. She bites her lip as she whimpers at the burn; it’s nowhere near what she felt when the bullet ripped through, but it still hurts. She pants as he dabs at the excess whiskey and puts one of the cloth pieces over the front. “Turn over for me? I need to get the back,” he whispers softly to her, brushing her hair behind her ears.

She nods and takes a second before rolling herself onto her stomach, holding herself up from the ground. She feels his scruff on her back before the burn, his lips trailing soft kisses along her left shoulder and neck as he cleans the exit side of the wound. She lets out a shaky breath when he presses another piece of cloth to the back, dabbing at the excess liquor and blood, helping her back into his lap.

“Shh,” he soothes, running his hand down her back as the other holds the cloth in place on her shoulder. He removes the cloths and grabs a small, metal file from his bag. He lets her rest on the bedrolls as he steps back out the tent, coming in a few moments later, the file red and hot. Her eyes widen a bit. “I need you to trust me, okay? Come here, this is gon’ hurt,” he soothes as best he can, rubbing her side when she crawls back into his lap.

She rests her left arm around his neck, bringing her shoulder and body close as she waits for him. He presses a few kisses to her face before holding her tight with his left arm about her waist. He works the file into her shoulder, making sure there’s nothing left in the wound. She whimpers and cries out against his shoulder, her muscles tightening as she clenches her stomach and legs, letting out a baited breath.

Arthur sets the file aside and pulls a bullet from his satchel, prying it open. Scarlet lets her head rest against the crook of his neck, her heart racing. She can feel the blood pumping through her veins, feel the rush as it pounds through her head. Arthur shifts her to his side to leave the tent. He returns with a small branch on fire. When she looks at him, puzzled, he gestures to the opened bullet and then to the burning stick. Her face pales a bit and she swallows, her throat feeling dry all of a sudden.

“Hey, it’s okay. Come on, I’ve got you,” he soothes as he pulls her back to his lap, letting her sit with her back to his chest. He dumps a little of the gunpowder in her shoulder, bringing the flame to it. There’s a soft popping sound and Scarlet slumps against Arthur, chest heaving. He soothes her by pressing kisses to her temple, cheeks, and neck, whispering praises and telling her how good she was doing for him.

He turns her so she’s facing him again and repeats his previous steps, cradling her as she loses consciousness for a moment from the shock. He takes the moment to toss the burning stick back out into the fire, readjusting Scarlet against his chest and packing his tools. He leaves the cloth and whisky out.

It’s a few moments before she’s back with him, her body aching, coming off the adrenaline rush. She groans and opens her eyes, looking up at him. She can feel his growing excitement under her legs, as he has her sitting sideways across his lap.

“You ready for me to wrap it?” He asks, voice quiet as he nuzzles his face into her neck, nipping and leaving sloppy, teasing kisses. She shivers in his arms and nods her head once.

“Arthur,” she whimpers, turning so she’s straddling his hips again. “Wrap my shoulder later. Please? I just- I can’t- I need-” she struggles to find the right choice of words. Luckily he seems to understand as he lets his right hand hold her left hip, rolling his hips up into her as he gently pulls her down for another kiss. She whines against his lips, her hands making their way under his vest. He helps her get his vest off,  his bandolier going with it, leaving him in his shirt and jeans.

Her hands are on him again immediately, popping the buttons on his shirt. She pulls the bottom from his jeans to undo the last few, trailing kisses down his neck. He lets his hands fall naturally, one on her hip and the other tangled in her hair at the back of her head, cradling her to him as she grinds down against him. He grunts and pulls her head back, bringing her back to him to kiss. She slows her hands, taking her time in unbuckling his gun belt, minding the pull in her chest when she pulls the belt from the buckle.

Arthur licks her bottom lip, silently asking for permission. She groans against his lips, parting hers for him. He curls his tongue around hers, coaxing her to a fight for dominance. She responds, hand moving to tangle in his hair while the other works on getting his suspenders undone. Arthur pulls back and rests his forehead against Scarlet’s, both breathing heavily.

“We can stop if you want, if your shoulder,” he starts. She shakes her head, removing his suspenders and pushing his shirt back and over his shoulders.

“Don’t wanna stop, wanna feel you,” she breathes, eyes locking with his. His breath catches in his throat, seeing her green eyes blown with lust makes him moan. He nods and toes off his boots, shrugging out of his shirt.

“Okay, okay,” he replies, nodding as he gently pushes her from his lap, “we’ll keep going.” He strips out of his pants and underwear as she moves to their beds, sitting up on her knees.

“Are you okay, Arthur?” Her tone is teasing and she looks as though she’s about to jump him. He nods and moves his shirt to join the rest of his pile of clothes, leaving his hat on the bedrolls.

“Better once you get over here again,” he mumbles, motioning for her to lay with him in the middle of the beds. She shakes her head and lets him lay down first, straddling him again.

“This won’t pull so much,” she shyly admits, eyes bright with something Arthur’s not familiar with.

“You sure you don’t wanna lie down? You’ve been through a lot in the past few hours,” Arthur murmurs against her ear, licking the shell of it. She shivers and he smirks; he knows it’s not from the cool breeze seeping into the tent. He trails his hand down her stomach, but she smacks his hand away lightly, shaking her head.

“No teasin, don’t wanna wait, been too long,” she grumbles, hand slipping between them to stroke him a few times. He groans at the contact, letting his head fall back against the pillow. He pushes himself up onto his elbows, watching her as she pushes to stand on her knees, lining him up with her entrance. He swears as she sinks down onto him, moan slipping from her lips as her hands fall to his chest where she digs her fingernails in.

“Christ,” Arthur breathes as he moves one hand to rest on her hip, holding himself up with the other. “How long is too long?” He slowly rolls his hips up when she grinds down on him. Green eyes meet his for a split second before she’s looking at the bed to the side of him.

“Shortly after James was born,” she quietly admits, raising herself before sinking back down. “Now hush that mouth before I do it for you.” She leans forward to recapture his lips, tugging on his hair when he sucks on her bottom lip. She feels the vibrations of his chuckle through his chest and against her own at her keen moans he’s swallowing.

She keeps her pace in rhythm with their kisses, slow and drawn out. Arthur seems content with it as well, bucking and rolling his hips every other time she lowers herself back onto him. He groans when she shifts her weight and bounces on him, moving one of her hands from his hair to brace against his forearm.

He has one hand on her hips, the other gently stroking up from her navel to her breasts. He runs his thumb over one bud, watching as it hardens when he takes the warmth of his hand away. Scarlet whines when he tweaks it, rolling the hardened bud between his fingers. When she’s mewling and arching her back into his hand, he switches to give her other breast the same treatment.

“Arthur,” she moans, widening her legs to pick up her pace. He lets go of her hip, slowly letting his hands rove from her side up to her shoulder, down to her stomach, finally cupping her breasts, squeezing them gently. She curses under her breath as she looks down at him, nails digging into his arm, surely leaving crescent shape indents.

She grips at his hair, tugging gently to pull his gaze from where they’re joined to her face. He smiles up at her, face and chest flushed with heat. She smiles back at him and leans down, meeting him halfway for a kiss. He gives her boobs a final squeeze before reaching over and grabbing something with his left hand. He holds her gaze until he drops his hat on her head, smirking up at her mischievously.

“Show me how well you really ride, Cowgirl,” he orders, grabbing her braid and tugging. A strangled moan leaves her lips as she stutters above him.

“Fockin’ ‘ell,” she swears, adjusting his hat so it won’t fall off before she shifts her stance to ride him faster. He tugs her braid again, rolling his hips up into her as she moves down. She gasps and tilts her head down at him as he repeats the action, hand tight on her hip. He rocks up into her in time with her movements, one hand cupping her jaw and forcing her to look as she lowers herself down. She lets out a groan at the sight, one hand pressing on his stomach as her back arches. “Fock, Arthur! There,” she whimpers, scratching down his chest. He moans at the feel, watching as her nails leave white streaks on his flushed skin.

“Darlin’, you keep ridin like that an I ain’t gonna last much longer,” he bites out, panting as he meets her eyes. She nods and slams down on him, throwing him off her pattern. He easily picks it back up, yanking on her braid. He slides his hand to the start of her braid and buries his hand, tangling it in her copper strands.

She only hums in response and tightens her stomach muscles as she slips off him, making him yank her hips back down as he slams up into her. She smirks down at him until he clenches the hand in her hair into a first and tugs her head back and to the side. He leans up, pulling her close as he holds her head back, nipping at her throat, teeth dragging across, leaving angry, red marks.

“I don’t know what you just did, but you need to not do that if you wanna finish first,” he growls, kissing her hard, their teeth scraping together. She lets out a few whimpers as their tongues fight for dominance; she gasps when he angles his hips, hitting her just right and dragging sweetly as he pulls back. She allows him the win as she breaks the kiss, panting and opening her eyes to look down at him.

“You mean this?” She asks coyly and clenches her stomach so she tightens around him as he’s pulling out. A string of curses leaves him as he thrusts his hips faster, pulling her down with a little more force when she moves.

“Scarlet, I- where-?” He can’t get his words out, but she seems to understand what he’s asking. She clenches around him again and nods her head.

“Wherever you wanna, Cowboy,” she murmurs, earning a yank to her hair. She curses and stutters above him, losing her pace momentarily. She picks it back up easy enough and licks her drying lips, trying to hold in a moan.

Arthur slips his free hand to cup her jaw, thumb brushing over her lips. She darts her tongue out to brush over the pad of his thumb, contentedly humming when he pushes it into her mouth; she sucks on it, running her tongue over it as she stares into his eyes.

“Gonna make you come undone for me,” he grunts as he bucks into her, earning a meek mewl around his finger. “Then I’m gon’ fill you up, so you remember who can touch you,” he growls into her ear as he sits up with her still in his lap. He tips his hat back on her head so he can rest his forehead on hers, their breaths mingling as he rolls his hips forward.

Maybe it’s the feral look in his eyes, or maybe it’s something about the possessive way he says it, but whichever it is has Scarlet gently biting down on his thumb as she slows down on him, her walls clenching tight around him as her orgasm rips through her. She’s aware of his hands on her hips again, feeling as he pounds into her, whispering praises to her.

“Such a good girl for me. Doing so well. Gonna take it all when I fill you up nice?” He coos to her, lips brushing against the joint of her neck and shoulder. She shivers and he bites down, his hips sputtering as he empties into her, her walls clenching and milking him for all he has.

Arthur holds her close to him as they come down from their high, their breathing slowly evening to a more normal rhythm. He kisses the mark he’s left on her neck, untangling his hand from her hair as he tilts her chin up to look at her. She’s smiling, lips parted in a slight daze, as she meets his eyes. She leans in and pecks his lips, sighing in content as he rubs a hand down her back, the other moving behind him for him to lean on.

“You good, Darlin’?” He asks after their breathing returns to normal. She nods and leans against him, her body pressing to his, her left hand gently scratching down his right side and tracing the path back up. She lets her hand repeat the pattern as she feels him soften and slip from her, a whine pulling from her throat as she feels the evidence of their activity dribbling from her core. She sets his hat by the pillows and shifts so she’s lying on one of the bedrolls. Arthur moves down to lay beside her, on his back.

“Y-yeah. I’m fine, we’re fine,” she murmurs against his chest, placing a light kiss to his collarbone. She wraps her right arm around his torso and snuggles against his chest, listening to the sound of his rapidly beating heart. His hand traces small circles on her back and he sighs as she nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck, laying almost fully on him.

Arthur wakes to a very warm body curled into him, his right arm wound about Scarlet’s waist where she’s holding his hand tight by her breasts, and a very noticeable friend. He kisses slow along her neck until he feels her push back against him, a small gasp leaving her. She rolls slightly so her right shoulder is almost touching the ground and brings her left hand up to his face, cupping his cheek and thumbing over his scruff.

“Good mornin.”

“Mornin, Darlin’,” he greets and presses a kiss to her wrist.

“Thank you,” her voice is quiet as she averts her gaze, cheeks flushing bright red as she remembers what happened last night. She looks back up at him, eyes alight with mischief. “So about that round two?”

“Christ, Woman. We just woke up,” he laughs and rolls so he’s hovering over her, arms caging her head between them.

“Exactly. So I reckon we better call it round one then?” She teases and bends her legs so they’re on either side of his waist. “Besides, you look like you're rearin to go.” She glances down at him, lying thick and angry against her stomach, before meeting his eyes again. She bites her lip and he loses it, capturing her lips in a tender kiss.

They rinse off in the creek before getting dressed. He wraps her shoulder and hands her his blue shirt she partially wore last night along with a spare pair of jeans he had stored in his saddlebags.

The ride back to camp is a silent one, Scarlet riding just as she was the night before; on the front of the saddle, leaned back against his chest. Smoke keeps his gait even as he gallops, ears forward as he senses the utter contentment of his riders.

They make it to camp by noon, Arthur slowing Smoke so he walks up the path, calling out to Lenny it’s just him and Scarlet. They’re greeted by a few of the members, including Dutch, Hosea, Sadie, and Charles. They all flash knowing smirks at the duo as Scarlet slides up the saddle for Arthur to get off first.

She flushes and tips the brim of her hat down to shade her eyes. Arthur chuckles and helps her down, his hands lingering on her waist, something Dutch notes to ask him about later. He also notices she’s wearing a set of Arthur’s clothes, something he definitely wants to breech later.

“Glad to have you back, Miss O’Hara!” Dutch greets, pulling her into a hug by her bad arm. She yelps and pushes against him. He immediately releases her arm, eyes narrowing. “You’re hurt?” He inquires and ushers her to the medicine wagon, despite her protests. The small welcoming group follows, Arthur, Sadie, and Hosea at the front. Dutch gently pushes her to sit on the back of the wagon.

“I just-it’s just a gun shot. I’ll be fine, it’s cleaned-” she tries to assure Dutch but he won’t have any of it. He snaps and points at her, tapping the belt buckle too big for her.

“Shirt off, now. Let Miss Grimshaw an the others take a look at it,” he commands, tone leaving no room for argument. She huffs but pulls the fabric from her borrowed pants and starts unbuttoning it under his watchful eye.

“Yes, Sir,” she sasses, eyes meeting his in challenge until she flinches when she brings her arm up to remove the sleeve. Arthur moves to her side, holding her arm as he gently pulls the shirt from her right shoulder and arm, leaving it on her left side. The bandage he put on earlier that morning tinged red.

“Get those bandages off her, Arthur. We’ll get it cleaned and dressed. Sit tight,” he orders, pointing a knowing finger at Scarlet. When Dutch turns his back, she sticks her tongue out at him and blows a raspberry.

“I’m fine, really. This ain’t the first time I’ve been shot an pistol whipped” she grumbles, holding still as Arthur unwraps her shoulder, cutting the wrap from around her chest in the process. Dutch returns after a few moments, Susan in tow with the other females. Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen gasp at the dark bruising down her chest and the blotchy, red bruising starting around her shoulder.

“What’s that bruisin on your chest from?” Dutch asks, kneeling in front of her, tilting her head up so he can see how far it goes. He lets her go and turns to the females. “Get that gun shot wound fixed up, we can’t do much about the bruises,” he confirms, nodding for Arthur to follow him.

“I’ll find James, let him know we’re back and that you’re busy and will come see him as soon as you can, alright?” Arthur murmurs into her ear as he leans down, removing her hat. “Round three after you’re done here?”

Scarlet pushes his face away, laughing at his question. She shoos him away from them as the small group of females each look at the entry and exit holes. Scarlet slips her other arm out as they move her from the back of the wagon to Susan’s extra bedroll, leaving her chest exposed.

“I saw that mark, Arthur. Anythin you wanna tell me?” Dutch interrogates, pacing his tent as Arthur sits in the chair he provides. The outlaw looks at his father figure, confused at just what he’s getting at.

“Whatchu mean, Dutch?”

“That bite mark ain’t from no O’Driscoll. You do remember I know how you are after an evening of fun, right?” The gang leader questions, chortling as realization dawns on Arthur. He picks at Scarlet’s hat, pretending it’s a little more interesting than Dutch.

“And?”

“How long have you been together?”

“We’re not. Well, we uhh, we slept together last night but we’re not...we haven’t discussed what we are,” he expresses, finally looking up at Dutch. Said man stops pacing and moves to stand in front of Arthur, kneeling with his hands on Arthur’s legs.

“Son, she could be your second chance,” he muses, eyes bright like they haven’t been in awhile. Arthur still isn’t sure what Dutch is completely on about, but nods slightly.

“I don’t want another Eliza,” he whispers in admittance. Dutch leans back on his heels, nodding as he pushes to his feet. He stays silent, not sure what to say. Arthur gestures with Scarlet’s hat.

“I best find James, let him know we’re back and his momma’s alright,” he excuses himself with an approving nod from Dutch. He finds James with Jack by the horses, Kieran showing them how to properly brush a horse. He approaches and tells James the news, calming the excited child with promise to have her come get him when she’s done.

The ladies have Scarlet lay on her stomach but she shakes her head and tries to get away from them, struggling in their hold. She breaks free of everyone but Sadie, attempting to crawl under the wagon.

“What is goin on here?” Arthur’s voice makes her freeze in place. She looks over her shoulder at him, eyes pleading as she scrambles towards the wagon when she sees movement in her peripheral.

“I’ve already had whiskey dumped on this wound and now they’re trying to use moonshine!” She whines, hoping her crying will get him to help her. She sighs in relief when he picks her up and pulls her to his chest. She startles when he lays her back down on the spare bedding, chest up with his hand on her sternum -minding the bruising- and on her hip to hold her. “Traitor,” she says.

“Would ya just let’em help ya?” He asks as he holds her gaze, distracting her as Sadie pours moonshine on her shoulder. A sharp yell leaves her lips as she turns to glare at Sadie, curses flowing freely.

Once Susan and Sadie give the okay, Arthur helps her back into his shirt and he picks her up, carrying her over to his wagon, sitting her on his cot. She rubs her sternum and winces a bit, shaking her head.

“Where’s James?”

“He was with Kieran and Jack by the horses when I left him. Want me to go get him?” Arthur asks, kneeling in front of her, removing her hand from her bruised chest. She nods and lets out a deep breath, closing her eyes.

“He hits like a kid, the gun hurt worse,” she manages as he helps her rest back against his wagon. He hums and pushes to his feet, heading for the horses. James is brushing Fancy down, the mare bouncing her head and pawing the ground.

“Hey, James!” He calls, waving the boy over. James pauses in his brushing, even Fancy looking up at him. “Your Ma wants to see you. She’s over at my wagon, if you wanna go see her,” he offers, patting Fancy.

“Sure! Thank you, Mr. Morgan,” the boy squeals in delight and passes him the brush as he rushes across camp.

“Slow down!” Arthur hollers after James, chuckling in amusement at his enthusiasm to see his mother. He picks up where the boy left off, getting the last of the dirt off Fancy’s back, seeing as how James couldn’t reach. Fancy nuzzles him after he puts the brush away in her saddle bag. “Good girl,” he coos to her before heading back to Scarlet and James.

“You good?” He asks, hands up and holding on the awning railing. James scrambles off the bed and wraps his arms around Arthur.

“Thank you, Arthur. Thank you for coming to rescue my momma, and for sending Uncle John, Bubba Lenny, and Bubba Kieran to get me with my Pa. I was scared,” he whimpers into Arthur’s stomach, hands clenching tight onto the back of the cowboy’s shirt. Arthur looks at Scarlet, whose eyes are glassy with unshed tears, and his arms automatically wrap James up tight, letting the child cry against him.

“Of course, Son, y’all are family now. We’ll always come for you,” he reassures the distraught James. He locks eyes with Scarlet, nodding to her. “Come on, let’s let your Momma rest, alright? How’s bout you an me go play dominoes?”

“S-s-sure. Can I, Momma?” He pulls away from Arthur, drying his eyes with his sleeves. Scarlet holds out her hand, a silent order to come here, and pulls him close when he takes her hand. She presses a kiss to his forehead, then cheeks, then his nose, causing him to laugh.

“Of course. You behave for Arthur, ya hear me? And if you see anyone who was there, send them my way please?” Her request is for Arthur, who nods his agreement. James smiles and thanks her before walking over to the table and setting up the dominoes.

“Here,” Arthur offers, stepping close to her and helping her lie down and cover up with his blanket, “just rest. I’ll come wake you later when dinner is ready.” She grabs his arm when he goes to get up, preventing him from doing so. He turns back to her with a questioning look before she sits up slightly and pulls him down to press her lips to his in a quick kiss.

“Thank you, Arthur. Fer everythin you’ve done the last few days,” she smirks up at him as she lies back down, hand trailing down his arm. He smiles and pats her leg, as he gets up.

“You’re welcome, Cowgirl. Now rest. I’ll be by later, and I’ll watch James. Don’t worry,” he soothes as he goes to join aforementioned child for dominoes.

Swanson stops by to see her, Dutch having informed him of Scarlet’s condition. The reverend sits with her for a while before offering her morphine for the obvious pain she is in. He gets his things set up and has her stretch her arm out for him. He pats her head as she thanks him, arm curling on her chest, pulling Arthur’s blanket close to her as she finally drifts off into a content sleep.

[bella-ca]

An Unexpected Love- A Mobster TRR AU Crossover

Summary: Bella, the daughter of murdered King of New York Adrian Raines, wants revenge. The Rhys family killed her parents to take the throne. Now she will stop at nothing until she gets her revenge.

A/N: This is my first time writing. This is a love story eventually but it does get dark. I was inspired by @katurrade by her Mobster Liam AU and decided to try my hand at writing. This is unbeta. All mistakes are mine. I hope you enjoy. Disclaimer: All characters belong to choices by Pixelberry. I’m just borrowing them. Same with the pics they are not mine.

Warnings: violence, cursing, murder, revenge, assassination. By reading you are acknowledging you are at least 18 years of age.

Word count: 1635

Masterlist

Chapter 11

Bella stands there the room spinning her heart ready to leap out of her chest. No...It cant be...Not Liam! Her knees give out she falls to the floor tears welling in her eyes. All this time….he knew, he knew his father did this to me, to my family, what was I just some joke to him? Did he pretend to love me just to get information for his father?? The tears were coming down harder this time. Her heart broken. How could I be so stupid!! All this time I thought he loved me and wanted to marry me and it was all just a lie. The one person I opened myself to the one I would die for….That I truly loved. Bella just layed on the floor crumpled in a little ball as the tears and pain took over. Maybe somehow I knew something like this would happen. Maybe that is why I forgot about him. My maybe my subconscious was trying to warn me he was no good. I just slept with him…..Oh My God….I just slept with him! She laid on the floor letting the tears and pain overcome her.

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

After speaking with his father, Liam walked back to room. His mind on Bella. It all felt like a dream. A wonderful dream. He was worried his father would notice that he was different, happier, but the footage was a good distraction. His father didn’t even notice. Bella, his Bella is alive! He was so happy. He couldn't help but smile as he thought of the time he just spent with her kissing her, making her his all over again. He could still smell Bella’s scent on him and he just wanted to breathe her in forever. He went to his office and to his desk opening up the drawer. He grabbed the ring box and opened it. He looked at the ring with a smile. He put it in his pocket and went back to his room. He wanted to propose to Bella as soon as possible. He wanted to be with her. He had lost her once and he would make sure he never lost her again. He thought back to her words. “Liam….can you promise me something? “Anything.” “I don’t want anyone to know about me. “I mean, I don’t want anyone to know I’m alive. At least not yet.” “Of course Love. The last thing I want is for your life to be in danger. You have my word.” “Thank you Liam.” He would keep his promise. He would be there to protect her. He was the son of the King of New York. At that moment he decided he would follow in his father’s footsteps if it meant protecting Bella from harm and from the Phoenix. He would gladly accept the role of King of New York and she would be his Queen. Nothing would harm them or stand in their way.

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

After what felt like forever, Bella picked herself off the floor. She got up and went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. She needed to dull the pain. She grabbed the bottle and went back to her room. She had the safehouse to herself and she was grateful for that. She did not anyone to see her like this. As she drank, she threw the file aside not wanting to look at it anymore. The pain was too much. She instead decided to binge netflix and drown her sorrows in alcohol. She needed tonight to get out all out. Come tomorrow. She would need to set her plan in motion.

The next afternoon, Bella woke up with a splitting hangover. She got up to get water and aspirin. She took them and after managing to keep down a smoothie, she started working out. She needed to let out her anger and frustration. The whole time her mind on Liam. On the way he made her feel, how she felt love for him only to find out it was a lie. “Dammit!” she yelled punching the bag with all her might. It wobbled on the stand, almost coming unlatched. She punched and kicked until she couldn't anymore. Then she went down to the shooting range in the basement and let off rounds until her target was completely shredded. She thought back to how Liam answered the phone and said he had to meet Constantine. “Shit! He is going to tell Constantine that she’s alive.” “Fuck!” she screamed. She had fucked up. She needed to go and look at those files again. Maybe there was something that she missed. She would need all the intel she could get. She went back and looked at the folder. According to a file, Liam left to Cordonia after his mother died and did not return to New York until that week she had met him. If that was true, maybe he didn’t know what Constantine had done? She shook the thought from her head. She needed to know more. She grabbed her phone to text Damien

Bella: Hey I need you.

Damien: It’s good to feel needed ;) What’s up?

Bella: Can you meet me in an hour at the bar?

Damien: Actually I have a meeting in an hour. How about in 20 mins.

Bella: Ok see u in 20.

She takes a quick shower and goes to the bar. She beats Damien there and orders 3 shots of rum. Bella finished one and saw Damien walk in to the bar. He spots her and heads over. She gives him a hug and he looks at her surprised. “Damn Bella, you look like shit. You okay?” “Just peachy.” She tells him as she takes the second shot. She hands him the third shot. “No, Im meeting an important client soon, I can’t drink.” You shrug and down the third shot. “Bella seriously, you ok?” Damien asks concern in his eyes. “I will be ok.” She tells him. I need you to get me everything you can on William Rhys, and the death of his mother. Can you do that?” “Of course, but it might take me a few days.” he says. “The sooner the better. I will pay you.” “Come on Belle it's not about the money.” he tells you. “I know, but I will feel better if I do.” “How about you just take me out for drinks again.” “Okay, deal.” “I have to go. I will be in touch.” He says getting up to leave. “Thanks D.” She tells him hugging him goodbye. Bella watches him leave and then heads home. Her mind going back to Liam and his betrayal. She were going to make him and his family pay for everything they did to her.

Liam had been calling and texting her and she had been avoiding his calls. The heartache still too much. Bella texted him once letting him know that she had to leave the state on important business and would call him when she was back. She told him that she had limited access to a phone and would not be able to reach out to him.

A few days later she got a text from Damien telling him to meet her. He handed her a fat folder of information and she bought him drinks. He even managed to make her do a Nazaro Chug. Bella hadn’t had that much fun in a while. She missed hanging out with him and vowed to do so more often. Bella needed a friend she could trust. They were starting to text more often. He could tell she were going thru something even though she did her best to hide it. He was constantly texting Bella to make sure she was ok. It felt nice to have someone care about her again. Bella went home drunk and happy. She texted Damien to let him know she got home okay and passed out.

The next day after her workout, Bella went thru the folder that Damien had given her. She tossed the pictures of Liam aside, his face causing her heart to break all over again. She read up on his brother and his best friend. She read the paperwork regarding Constantine’s deals and also quite a bit of money he paid off to certain people. It seems that he did in fact blackmail or pay off quite a few of her dad’s friends. The most loyal that couldn't be paid off met their untimely deaths. She read on how Liam’s mother was poisoned and how he had gone to live in Cordonia shortly thereafter. There was speculation that Liam’s mother knew Constantine was planning a hit. She was planning on outing Constantine to Adrian. She threw the papers down in disgust. She knew Constantine was evil, but to kill his wife, the mother of his children? That was a new low. She wondered if Liam knew that it was his father that killed his mother. Bella had a few flashbacks of Liam and from what she remembered, he hated his father. If that were true then why would he be working for him? It didn’t make any sense. Bella knew then what she had to do. She would have to see Liam and pretend that everything was ok. She needed to know if Liam did in fact have something to do with her parents murders. If he did she would have to kill him. That thought hurt her heart. But what if he didn’t? Then maybe he truly did love you? NO! Dammit Bella get your shit together! She told herself. She was out for blood and it would not matter if Constantine was Liam’s father. Liam would not stand in the way of her revenge.

Chapter 12

Thank you for reading!! Reblogging and comments are appreciated. It will keep me motivated to write 💜💜

If you would like to be added or removed from the tag list, let me know.

An unexpected love tag list:

@katurrade @bobasheebaby @elles-choices @furiousherringoperatortoad @hopefulmoonobject @stopforamoment @tornbetween2loves @indiacater @annekebbphotography @gibbles82 @blackcoffee85 @ownworldresident @marietrinmimi

[hidden-treasures21]

Prompt 19: “What’s Cooking, Good Looking?”

Erik/Black Reader

College AU: No Warnings

Story is Unbetaed, so All mistakes are my own!

—————————MGST——————————

It was a fantastic day in Queens. The sun was shining, the sky was clear, and your only class was canceled. So, instead of studying for finals in your cramped room, you decided to venture outside and relax on the Great Lawn of your university.

As you stretched out on the thin blanket on the ground, you people watched. Even though it was the mid-morning, the lawn was nearly filled to the brim with a variety of people. Students were tossing frisbees, playing soccer, or just sunbathing on blankets like yours. There were even a few teachers at the few tables adjacent to the lawn, grading papers or just chatting with their peers.

Glancing over the next tables, a small group of beautiful black men caught your eye. Thankful for your reflective shades, you were able to glance in their direction without them suspecting a thing. All varying shades of brown, each guy was dressed for the weather in wife-beaters, Nike shorts and slides. Even though they were all snacks, the one in the middle had your full attention.

His skin was a tawny brown, glowing in the sun from the light oil on his face. He threw his head back in a laugh, mouth wide with a laugh you clearly heard from across the grass. His thick lips were so bitable that you had to pause your staring and get a sip of water.

Thirst calmed, you went to look back only to meet his eye. A smirk curled his lips as his gaze traveled over your large backside. Warmth spread throughout you, having nothing to with the overhead sun and everything to do with those chocolate eyes in the distance.

“Y/N, is that guy over there trying to will you over there or is it just me?” Kiki laughed, bringing your attention back to your friends.

“I don’t know, but damn he’s sexy,” You replied. “Making a sista wanna holler at him, ya know?”

“Go over there and say something, then. You’ve been looking in his direction for five minutes now,” your other friend Grace urged.

With a roll of your eyes, you pushed your shades on top of your braids and stared hard at them in surprise. “Me? My scaredy ass? Nah, I’m good. Nigga ain’t that good looking.”

“Come on, stop playing around. Say something corny, get his attention. Shit, what’s the worse that could happen?” Kiki asked.

Your mind filled with scenarios of options, including having to avoid the Dining Hall for the rest of the semester and eating takeout for the remaining weeks by yourself. A sigh left your lips as you replied, “So many things. But alright! It’s the end of the year, can’t fuck up much more.”

“Yes bitch!” Kiki exclaimed, clapping her hands. “How you gonna catch that dick? What’s your plan?”

Pushing up from the ground, you dusted your ass off before striking a pose. “These healthy hips and thick lips are 60% of my plan, to be honest. After that, I’m winging it!”

You turned away from your girls, tugging up your high-waisted jean shorts and smoothing down your red tank top. Flipping your glasses back down, you made your way across the lawn towards the guy’s table, doing your best to sway your hips as you approached. As you dodged the various blankets and occurring games, you didn’t notice the guy was standing until you nearly plowed into him.

“Shorty, you good?” He asked as he caught you mid-fall. “Knocked yo braids outta the bun, goddamn.”

You could hear his friends in the background joking, “Women always falling for your ugly ass,” before he barked at them to be quiet. He was tall up close, dwarfing your five foot-four frame entirely. The warmth of his palms seeped through your jeans, leaving a tingly feeling forming between your thighs.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you answered back. You swiped a loose red braid away from your face before continuing, “What’s cooking, good looking?”

A cheeky smile graced your lips as a short bark of laughter left him. You continued, “Figured, with you looking like a whole ass meal, obviously you got something going on over here.”

Dragging a hand over his mouth to hide his smile, his eyes slid over your voluptuous figure, lingering on your perky double-d’s—specifically, the piercings showing through the thin top. Finally he met your eyes behind your shades, before removing his palm from his mouth. A flash of gold-capped canines glittered in the sunlight.

“I like yo style, ma,” he replied. With a sly smirk, the guy carried on, “I’m Erik. What’s your name, with ya corny-ass?”

“Y/N. These jokes got me far, you know,” you retort. Bravado fueled the next statement from your lips. “I’m hoping it’ll get me a date with yo sexy self.”

Going into the large purse on your shoulder, you removed a pink pen and scribbled your number across the palm of his hand, adding your name with a winky-face at the end. With a quick grin, you said, “Call me, hot stuff,” before sashaying away.

In the distance you could hear his boys losing their minds at him being stunned into silence. Then you knew the day couldn’t get any better than this.

Later that night, your phone pinged with a text from an unknown number. All it said was “I like a girl with a quick tongue; wanna see what mine can do? 👅” At that moment, you were gladly proven wrong.

—————————MGST—————————

Sooo... I’m a goofy person, unable to hold a post up for more than 5 minutes. 🤦🏾‍♀️ Bless y’all for dealing with me!

Tag List: @wakanda-inspired @curls-and-crosses

Thank you again! ❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙

[justfangstvdto]

Open Coffin | Chapter 09: “Fury Rising”

Pairing: Kol x Salvatore Sister!Reader

Chapter Summary: The reader and Stefan stole Klaus precious coffins on their retaliation trip and for once have the upper hand against their nemesis. Unlikely allies are made as they try to protect the precious cargo, that for some unknown reason is spelled shut by a witches spell.

Warnings: unbeta´d all mistakes are mine, canon divergence, typical tvd violence, swearing

 Word count: 2978

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Open Coffin Masterlist

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Samuel Johnson once wrote “Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged.”

But revenge is not always solely passionate, most times it is acted out of desperation.  The need to avenge wrongdoings with the most primal thought in mind; An eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, blood must have blood - whatever you prefer to call it- with no other alternative in near sight.

People would argue that forgiveness, the common ground for the combat between past grievances and future healing, is the noble high ground, and while that might be true, one, you have never considered yourself as particularly noble and second, in your experience the taste of revenge, however fleeting it is, is undeniably sweet.

And lucky for you, forgiveness is the last thing on your mind...

“Open up you wooden piece of shit!” You clutch the axe in your hand before bringing it down, the blade ever so barely stopping right before it would scratch the coffin´s surface.”FUCK!!”

“Are you done?” Stefan asks, leaning against the cold stone wall.

It has been two days since you and Stefan snatched Klaus precious coffins he had been driving around in his very suspicious white van.  

It's safe to say that you have never been this close to one, playing Klaus like a puppet and second, to Kol.

But like everything in your life, something has to get in your way. For whatever reason, the coffins are spelled shut, and there is no way to open them.

Which does not mean you won´t try your hardest.

“Does it look like I´m done?”

“Kind of.”

“Haha, you´re so funny. You know, I don't even understand why these witches decided to screw with me anyway. I was an ally to their kind back in the day.” You bring the axe down once again, hoping that your persistence would make a difference, when clearly, it won´t “Where's your loyalty now, huh?”

Even Bonnie, your newly made ally tried to get it open when she showed up after her dreams led her to the burned down house.Whatever is going on, witchy dreams are never a good sign.

At all.  

“You and witches? You hate witches.”Stefan asks surprised, the sheer thought of you working with witches hard to grasp. You always seemed unsympathetic towards them. Or so he thought.

“I don't hate witches. I just hate what they can do to me. Especially the aneurysm. Ouch.” You remember the first time a witch gave you an aneurysm, it felt like your head was about to explode like fireworks. And not the good kind. “But I do have to say, I like Bonnie. She hates Klaus almost as much as we do. I like that in a person.”

You decide to give the axe one more try. You bring it over your shoulder, ready to break this coffin in half if you have to. You swing the axe down for the millionth time but as expected, it didn't hit the surface.

“I give up.” You throw the axe aside and let yourself fall on the floor, your back resting against the wall next to Kol’s coffin.   

Stefan joins you on the cold floor, his jacket scratching against the textured stone wall. “Tell me about him,” he says glancing over at the coffin.

“About who?”

“Your boyfriend. Klaus brother.”

And there it is. You knew he must've eavesdropped.

“So you did hear my conversation with Klaus. Why didn't you say anything? You ask.

You knew Klaus didn't just start talking about Kol just for the fun of it. He must´ve seen

“I don´t know. Busy saving my buddy Klaus I guess.” He jokes.

To other people I might seem like his forced flipped switch is done and dealt with, but if your family is known for something is definitely to bury feelings under any form of wit.

“Ugh, don't remind me.” You roll your eyes, the thought of the epic failure that was supposed to be Klaus downfall makes you want to dig a hole and never come out.  “Look, I know how this must look for you, but Kol is different. He's no-”

“Is that his name? Kol?” You nod “Do you know who the others are?” Stefan asks. He has been wondering who he's been carrying around.

“These two are either Elijah or Finn. Only this one, I don´t know who that is.” You say pointing to the coffin It's true you don't have the slightest idea who might be in that coffin. Perhaps its the spare coffin for Rebekah?

“How can you tell who is who?”

“I´m not sure with Elijah or Finn. But with Kol...I just feel it.”

“You...feel it?” he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He must think you´ve gone completely mad.

“Never underestimate the intuition of a woman, Stef.” You joke, earning the most exaggerated eye roll from your little brother. “Look, I know it sounds impossible to love anyone close to Klaus after everything he has put you through. But Kol hates Klaus as much as you do. Maybe more. No, definitely more. And I love him, Stefan. I really do.”

“So he's the reason you came back? Because Klaus has him?” He asks, his gaze evading yours by fumbling with his daylight ring.

For a fleeting glimpse there, young and vulnerable Stefan seeped through the cracks of his mask of bloodshed and vengeance. He must be worried that he's just a stepping stone to get Kol back. But of course, that's not true. You are glad you get to spend time with him after all these years. Even under these circumstances.

“Yes and no. he’s a very big factor as well, but you were and will always be my number one priority. If I had to run into a burning building to drag you out I'd do it. Again.” You say, the memories of that incident still so fresh in your memory as if they happened yesterday.

“But while we´re on the topic of me coming back to this god awful town, there is something you should know about that involves Elena and you're probably gonna hate me fo-” You stop midsentence, as two very familiar voices reach your ears. You always use your vampire hearing once in a while just to be safe of anyone that might be coming for you “Oh Jesus Christ.”

“What?”

You gesture to your ears and then upstairs, the chattering of Damon accompanied by Elena as they approach the ruins, reaching Stefan's ears. He looks at the coffins, the moment he lays eyes on them they disappear. These witches think fast.

Stefan?” Elena approaches the dark room with caution. Damon had to wait outside because the witch spirits resting in this house hate his guts and screwed with his daylight ring. Honestly, you can't blame them.

“Buh!” You whisper in her ear. Even a blood-sucking monster has to have fun, right?

“Y/N?! She jumps back in shock “What are you-” Elena begins, but Stefan's dramatic appearing from the shadows startles her.

“Elena, go away, you shouldn't be here,” Stefan tells her, his voice indifferent and cold.

“Stefan, I need your help.” She says, her voice shaking with worry and anticipation “Bonnie said that you would be here.”

“Well, Bonnie sucks at keeping secrets,” Stefan replies.

“Listen, you two need to give Klaus his family back.”

“Oh, really? Is that what we need to do?” You scoff. There is no chance you will let any of these coffins out of your sight again. Not until you know how to open them.

“Klaus compelled Jeremy to stand in front of a speeding car!” Elena argues.

“I don't really see how that involves us.” You shrug.

While you understand the need to protect your little brother, if Klaus resorts to such methods he is beyond desperate.

“Don't you get it?”You shrug again “Stefan, he's not gonna stop until he gets what he wants.”

“Elena, stop talking.” He rolls his eyes and you chuckle at his annoyed undertone he developed ever since Elena entered the room. “I'm not giving Klaus anything.” He shakes his head.

It must be hard for her to acknowledge the fact that even though Stefan flips his switch, and you're certain he did after Klaus set him free, he is not running back to her immediately.

“Are you listening to me? He's gonna kill Jeremy!”

“Not really my problem.” Stefan shrugs his shoulders.

Elena raises her hand and slaps Stefan with all the force her mortal being possesses.

Interesting. There is some fire in her after all. Who would´ve thought?

“And you can go to hell!! She yells at Stefan, then turns to you “Both of you.” she says on her way out.

“Already there, Elena. Already there.” You mutter, not caring if she even hears it or not.

You and Stefan only have the chance to share a look before Damon rushes through the house, his skin sizzling like bacon in a pan.

“Wow! That was impressive.” Stefan says in a sarcastic tone, almost sneering “But the coffins aren't here, so...You can go away now.”

“I don't care about the coffins.” Damon winced as his skin heals from the sunburns.”We need to talk.”

“Okay, let's talk.” You lean against the wall to your right “Tough, If you prefer a punch in the face again, let me know.”

“Nothing's ever easy with you two, is it?” Damon says before he attacks Stefan, vamp speeding him out of the house, so he doesn't have to watch out for the light shining through the windows.

You hurry after them, pushing Damon off of Stefan when he tries to hurt him with a wooden stake. Instead he plunges it in your chest, several inches away from your heart. Of course, he's not trying to kill you, just to hurt you.

Stefan punches him in the face as retaliation, but Damon is quicker and stakes him in the stomach with a tree branch.

Perhaps Stefan even wants him to let out his anger Damon has every right to be angry. From his point of view, Stefan blew the only chance of getting rid of Klaus. However, he doesn't know the whole story.

“That is for screwing up my plan! You stop me from killing Klaus and you steal his family! Why?? Doesn't make sense!” He yells and twists the branch and Stefan groans in pain. “Answer me!!”

“Stop it!!!!” You throw the piece of wood you retracted from your chest into Damon's shoulder before pushing him off of your little brother.

You wrap your hand around the branch and pull it out of Stefan's chest with one tug.

“Piece by piece Klaus took everything from me.” Stefan groans as you reach for his hand to pull him to his feet. “I'm doing the same to him. We both are.”

“But I had him, Stefan!” Damon snaps, pointing an accusing finger at Stefan “Why did you screw it up?”

“He did it to save you, you dumbass!!” You yell at him.

“What??” Damon freezes, the sickening feeling of realization settling within his bones “No. No way! You didn't do this for me.”

“He was one step ahead of us.” Stefan explains “If Klaus died, his hybrids would have killed you.”

“When are you going to get it through your head? Stop saving me!!” He yells at him and walks back to the house, his shoulder purposely colliding with yours.

But then he stops.

“Do you know what I can't figure out? Why steal the coffins?” He asks and faces both of you again.

“Even if it doesn't seem like it, Klaus´ siblings are a weak point we can exploit and use against him.” You tell him.

“Use against him to do what? You're not gonna kill him, you know how I know? 'Cause there was only one way to kill him and you blew that to save me.”

“You're wrong Damon.” Stefan shakes his head, reflecting Damon's usual denial “Klaus doesn't just get to live forever. There's another way. There has to be.”

There is. Two ways actually, one deadly one non-fatal but equally painful. But telling them isnßt an option. They would use the same weapon to get rid off all of them.

You can´t let that happen.

No, you won't let that happen. Even if it means you have to lie to them. Again.

“Fair enough.” Damon nods “But whatever you two are doing, I want in.”

“We don't need your help.” You shake your head. Planning anything with Damon most likely ends in a disaster. History speaks for itself.

“Really? Last time I checked you're hiding in a haunted house.” He argues and cocks his head towards the burned ruins.

“So? We like spirits. And not only the alcoholic kind.” You

“You're going after Klaus; Y/N.” Damon needles reminds you, as if you didn't know that already. “You have to be cutthroat and devious. I'm so much better at that than you two.”

Oh if you only knew, brother. If you only knew...

“Come on.” Damon continues “What do you say? If you're gonna keep saving my life at least make it for a good reason.”

“You want in?”

“Yeah.”

Stefan looks at you, waiting for your reaction. Having Damon on board would certainly be easier as facing his fury, but there is also the risk of Damon being….well Damon.

“Okay, fine.” You sigh “But it's just us three. Your precious Elena stays out of it, alright? Completely. If this is going to work we have to stick together.  No matter what happened or will happen. This is the only advantage we have on Klaus. We can´t let anyone screw it up.” You look at both of them and while Stefan nods, Damon rolls his eyes. How typical “No matter the consequences”

“Fine. Whatever, it's a deal.” Damon sighs, his foot impatiently tapping on the floor.

“Good.” You nod your head; ”Follow us.”

“Wait. I'm not so...welcome in there.”

“Don't you worry Damon. We all want the same thing.

You and Stefan lead him to the bad lid and dusty room and Damon follows close behind eager to know where you might have hidden the coffins.

“Have a look.” Stefan gestures to the empty room.

“What? Klaus is allergic to dust?” Damon jokes and looks at Stefan with a questioning look on his face.

“Hm...Look again.” You tell him and he promptly does as you ask, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

“Witch spirits hate Klaus as much as we do. They're using their powers to hide the coffins.” Stefan explains.

“So even if he comes in the house…”

“ ...he won't be able to find them.” Stefan finishes his sentence and Damon smiles, enjoying this hide and seek already.

While Damon ran back to bring Elena the news of his epic misjudgement, Stefan decided to dig deep into the lore, trying to find a way to open the locked coffins. And you, well….you don't want to let the coffins out of your sight. Especially, of course, the one with Kol in it.

He has been lost for decades upon decayed and now he's so close, so undeniably close with only a wooden barrier separating you.

You close your eyes for a mere moment, perhaps for a breath or two, leaning on the coffin supports. The air suddenly feels heavier as questions upon questions fill your head, the silence forcing them out of the shadows.

Why would the witches close the coffins? Will working with Damon work? Will they forgive you if they found out what you did? Will you ever see Kol again´?

But when you open your eyes again, instead of the pale, rigged surroundings, a different view lies before you. A beautiful night sky stretches itself above your head, the stars twinkling in shining as bright as they can while a street parade strolls through the streets, the music filling the silent night air.

You don't have to turn around to know where you are. How could you ever forget this night? But how the hell did you get to New Orleans, on the same rooftop of the Mikaelson house? Is this a dream?

You smile as the song you and Kol danced to start playing on the old Grammophon. You breathe in the feeling of tranquillity and wholesomeness spreading throughout your body.

This has always been your happy place. No matter what your immortal life threw at you, you always had this memory to come back to.  And being here in person, or whatever this is, couldn´t be more perfect.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” Your heart jumps at the familiar voice, you can feel it hammering in your chest. This great pounding, this great pressure, every beat now magnified.

Could it be….

You turn around and your heart now completely sinking to your knees, your eyes fixated on the person in front of you.

“Kol?”

To be continued….

A/N: Well isn´t this a mean cliffhanger ;) Sorry not sorry.  I do hope you liked this chapter though!! I know it was a long time coming again, but I promise I will post the next chapter a lot quicker now that I seem to be out of the bad writing hole.  Please PLEASE let me know what you think. Feedback fuels my writing like nothing else!! Also, I hope to see you next chapter as well! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day/night!

Open Coffin Tags:   @shadyladyperfection @laitalianax3 @newurleans @originalbish98 @christinalibertymikaelson @acourtofhopeanddreams @bonniebird @imnoaingeal @onlygodcanjudgeme-sh @vaniileiinkeks  @relmi-llorrac @piercethepottorff @maliae14  @5-seconds-of-animals @captain-amelia-bradley  @rock-n-magick @flymeawayworld @givemesomehybrid @mikealsonlover @nuteller28 @fandoms-fandoms-everywhere99 @drkplum @fandooomqueenforyou @free-the-fangirl @clockworkballerina @twisted1ginger @superwholocksociopath474   @pacifyprincess @mustachio1616 @thealyana   @sandyclaws @unicorntrooper @buckysummers @sanity-is-overratedxp @akshi8278 @graysonmalfoy @woodworthti666 @elenavaldez09 @akshi8278 @sincerelystiles

[thing-you-do-with-that-thing]

Flustered

Word count: 313

Pairing: Misha x Reader

A/N: Gif Submitted by @ruined-by-destiel

Unbetaed - All mistakes are mine.

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

A rather nervous looking fan stepped up to the microphone, making Misha smile a little. He’d never get used to how flustered some of the girls seemed to be by his presence even if it was fun to mess with them every so often… okay all the time.

“Hey Misha my name is Suzanna. I was wondering… We all know you met Y/N on set, but what did you say to her the first time you saw her?”

Misha looked straight at the girl, tilting his head ever so slightly speaking in a low seductive tone into the microphone, “Hi.” Misha could help but laugh when he saw the immediate blush in the girl's cheeks and he was just about to make a comment about it when Y/N’s voice sounded across the stage, causing the audience to erupt into a roar of applause.

“Misha stop lying to the girl,” Y/N confidantly strudded across the scene leaning over Misha’s shoulder speaking into the microphone. “Actually he didn’t say a word to me for two days. I was sure he hated me. He just glared at me every now and again.”

“I was admiring. Not glaring,” Misha corrected her with a smirk and Y/N instantly pulled a face at him.

“Well how was I supposed to know that?” she teased, “actually I am pretty sure your first words to me was: So about that make-out scene…” she rolled her eyes loving as the crowd laughed.

“Well jokes on you. You still married me,” Misha scrunched his nose at her, making her laugh, pulling the microphone and his hand closer to her face whispering into it.

“Well it was hell of a make-out scene,” Y/N threw Misha wink, leaving him blushing in front of the cheering crowd as she ran off stage. Oh she was going to pay for that one…

Misha Tag Team

 @mysupernaturalfics @blacktithe7 @percywinchester27  @docharleythegeekqueen @hexparker @fellmyroarrrr @starswirlblitz @d-s-winchester @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @fuckyeahfeysand @winchesters-flannels @tennesseewhiskey-and-pie @supernatural-jackles @adriellej @dance4angels @jayankles @mouselovesmusic @twistnshoutx @redunicorn10 @atc74 @sandlee44 @gecko9596 @jensen-jarpad @deansleather @phoenixia67 @chaos-and-the-calm67 @aiaranradnay @castiels-broken-fool @bemyqueenofdarkness @bbgmichael @ashleydivine @smoothdogsgirl @maui137 @itsbubbaog @trashforwinchesters @gemini75eeyore @supernaturallymarvellous @beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep @queencflair @ruined-by-destiel @devilgirlsarah @awesomenursingstudent @fallen-castiel @ledzeppelinrules @internationalmusicteacher

[sonicenvy]

The Puppy From Hell: a Lucifer fic

so i posted this ages back on ff.net and AO3 but never got around to posting it here bcs im sometimes lazy all the time disorganised. plus im still not sure what the good tags are for lucifer fic as im new to the fandom. 

words: 3K | deckerstar established relationship | All Ages 

summary: In some vaguely defined future where Chloe and Lucifer are (finally) together and Chloe knows, Lucifer gets Trixie an unusual puppy.

as always i own nothing | unbeta-d so all mistakes are mine

“Lucifer?” Trixie asked, tugging at the bottom of his sleeve. She had somehow managed to get up from her seat on the other side of the breakfast table and over to Lucifer without Chloe noticing. Chloe suspected that her daughter had ducked under the table when she’d gotten up to go and get more bacon.

“What is it child?” he said, gently shaking her hand from the fabric of his shirt. Trixie had definitely crawled under the table to get to Lucifer.

Chloe did her best to stifle a laugh. It still cracked her up that the one thing that managed to shake the ever confident, Lucifer was her child. He pulled a look of mock displeasure at Trixie’s invasion of his space.

“Can I get a puppy?” she asked, focusing all the power of her sad doe eyes on him. Chloe was half-sure that Trixie had to have some kind of supernatural power, because no one seemed to be able to resist those eyes – not even Mr. Big Bad Devil.

Lucifer didn’t answer Trixie right away, it seemed that he was doing his best to resist her; unfortunately, he was losing. Chloe could pinpoint the moment that Lucifer had given in: he swallowed and released a loud breath and met Trixie’s eyes.

“Perhaps,” he said. It seemed he was doing his best to hedge his bets; Lucifer never promised something if he couldn’t deliver.

“Please?” Trixie asked again. Really, she should be asking Chloe, but Trixie was clever enough to have figured out that Lucifer was far more likely to fall for her pleading doe eyes and innocent charm; it was almost funny how easily he seemed to cave to her.

“You should be having this conversation with your mum,” Lucifer said. It pleased Chloe, just a little bit that he had learned to let her lead in all things Trixie.

Then, he continued on, “While I’d like to help you acquire a puppy, this is out of my jurisdiction.” Both Lucifer and Trixie turned to face Chloe.

She groaned, “Really?”

“Mooommy,” said Trixie, doing her best to lengthen the two syllable word.

It was way too early in the morning for this conversation, even if she’d already had three cups of Lucifer’s fancy, strong black coffee. She’d had the puppy conversation with Trixie several times before, but this was the first time that Trixie had ever brought Lucifer into the conversation. Come to think of it, this was the first time that Trixie had asked about puppies in almost a year. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion at her stupid boyfriend – a man who was doing his best to project the image of angelic innocence.

“Lucifer,” she said, her voice low and laden with warning in a I-know-what-you-did way.

“What?” he said, his voice raising just a hair.

Busted.

She glared at him again.

He let out another loud puff of air, “I might have been telling Beatrice about the Hounds of Hell last night,” he said, “but I certainly didn’t intend this to be the outcome.”

She kept looking him in the eyes.

“She asked me to tell her a story,” he said.

“Uh huh,” she said, “So, stories about Hell?”

“Darling,” he said, “Most of my stories are about Hell. You know that.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Would you prefer if I tell her about my Den of Debauchery?”

Asshole.

They were looking at each other now, and Lucifer was doing this thing with his tongue… guh. He smirked then, because he, the asshole, knew exactly what he did to her, exactly where she was trying to keep her thoughts from going.

“Guys!” Trixie said, obliviously cutting through the tension between them, “What about my puppy?”

Chloe sighed again. The she downed the rest of her coffee like a shot, “We’ve talked about this before baby,” she said.

“Yeah and you said that if I was ready to be responsible I could get one. I’m ready mommy,” she said.

“I’ll think about it,” said Chloe. Was she going to think about it? Yeah. She just had, and the answer was still no, so it technically wasn’t a lie…

“Well then,” Lucifer said, “I’ll see what I can do spawn.”

Chloe wasn’t sure that she liked where Lucifer seemed to be going with this, but her objections were a part of a conversation best had, far, far away from Trixie.

Lucifer vanished for two days, with almost no explanation other than I have business to attend to darling . She might have been repeating his words under her breath in a terrible imitation of his stupid, stupid, beautiful accent. She’d always hated when he got all vague and mysterious on her; she hated it even more now that she Knew . Usually when he got all weird and cagey, it meant that he was off to do something stupid, and he knew it. He never lied to her, but she could tell when he was hiding something from her because he would suddenly become a wall of silence on the topic. Stupid, smarmy, vanishing asshole.

Then, on Wednesday night, he returned, acting as though he’d simply popped off for a smoke. She and Trixie had been working together on one of Trixie’s school projects when they’d heard the door opening. Instinctively, Chloe reached for her gun, but pulled her hand back when she heard Lucifer’s voice.

“Chloe!” he called out, “Spawn!”

Trixie jumped up immediately, running to follow the sound of Lucifer’s voice. Before Chloe could decide what she wanted to say to Lucifer, Trixie had disappeared into the front hall. Chloe let out another breath, and decided that she would wait on the sofa for Lucifer to come into the sitting room. Then, she heard the bark.

There was a dog barking.

A dog was barking, very, very, closely.

Inside the apartment.

There was a dog.

Lucifer, had brought a dog into the apartment.

Chloe felt a mixture of overwhelming fondness, and annoyance. The sound of Lucifer’s voice all soft and gentle, his words quiet enough that she couldn’t quite make them out, followed directly by a joyful whoop from Trixie certainly stoked the fondness.

Finally, she decided to get up and make her way to the front hall.

Lucifer was crouched at Trixie’s level, and a small, pure black pitbull puppy was wriggling in his arms, wagging its tail exuberantly. Trixie was smoothing her tiny hand over the puppy’s head, petting it gently.

“She’s so pretty,” Trixie was saying.

Lucifer smiled a warm, open smile. “She is, isn’t she?” he said.

“Does she have a name?” Trixie asked.

“Not yet, spawn,” he said, “Her mum didn’t want her so she didn’t get one.”

Trixie looked almost heartbroken, “Why didn’t the mom dog want her?” Trixie asked.

“I don’t know child,” he said, “Perhaps because she’s a runt.” He stroked gently behind the puppy’s ear with his finger.

“What’s a runt?” Trixie asked.

“It just means that she was the littlest, sickliest pup of the lot,” he said. He sat down fully on the floor, and Trixie followed suit.

Her face crumbled again, for a moment, and then she brightened, “But we can take care of her, can’t we?”

Lucifer smiled again, “We can,” he said, softly.

Chloe had originally wanted to barge right into the hall, drag Lucifer away and have a word with him, but the sight of the two of them together on the floor with the puppy was too sweet to disturb. So here she was lurking in the doorway, a silent observer; both the Devil and the child were completely oblivious to her presence, completely wrapped up in the plight of the tiny puppy.

Lucifer held the puppy out to Trixie, but stopped her before she could take the puppy.

“Beatrice,” he said, voice solemn and serious, “If you take this puppy now, she’s yours. You will be completely responsible for her.”

Trixie’s eyes widened, “Completely?”

“A Hellhound only has one master, and she hasn’t chosen hers yet,” he said, “If you take her from me now, you’re choosing to be her master. She will protect you for all eternity Beatrice, but you are making a deal,” he paused, giving Trixie a moment to take his words in before continuing, “She will serve you faithfully and protect you, but you must protect her and care for her in return. Can you do that?”

“Yeah,” Trixie said, “I can do that.” She put on her most serious face and nodded. The whole scene had an air of ritual to it.

Then she took the puppy from Lucifer’s hands. It licked Trixie’s face and she giggled.

“Hi,” she said, “I’m Beatrice Espinoza, but everybody calls me Trixie,” she glanced at Lucifer for a moment before returning to the puppy, “well, almost everybody. I’m going to be your new mommy, since your old one isn’t here. Is that okay?”

The puppy barked excitedly.

“I think you look like a Bella to me,” she said, “I’m going to call you Bella, okay?”

The puppy licked her face again.

“Lucifer says that you come from Hell, just like Maze,” she said, “But you don’t have to go back there again.”

Chloe finally stepped into the room and made her presence known. Lucifer and Trixie both looked up at her, somewhat guiltily. She burst out laughing, not even sure why, and then she found herself plopping down on the floor next to Lucifer.

“A hellhound?” she asked him.

“They make excellent guard dogs, and as an added bonus they come pre-house trained,” he flashed her one of his signature I’m-so-great-aren’t-I grins, “Win-win wouldn’t you say darling?”

She shook her head gently, squashing down her annoyance – Trixie looked so happy to have a puppy. Lucifer was often unclear on the more delicate facets of proper human etiquette but she’d never let it be said that he wasn’t trying. He certainly had a keen interest in doing things that would make Chloe and Trixie happy, even if he was clumsy about it. What did it say about her life now that a literal Hellhound seemed practically mundane?

“Mommy!” Trixie said, “You need to meet Bella.” Trixie held the puppy out to Chloe.

“Go on, darling,” Lucifer said, “Say hello to the puppy.”

Chloe took Bella into her hands, “Hi there Bella,” she said, “I’m Chloe, I’m Trixie’s mommy.”

Bella licked Chloe’s face. Then she set Bella down, not entirely comfortable with dog saliva on her face. The puppy immediately scrambled her way back into Trixie’s lap.

“Trixie babe, don’t you think you should go off and get ready for bed? You do have to go to school tomorrow,” Chloe said.

“Can I take Bella to see my room?” Trixie asked.

“Of course baby,” Chloe said, “She’s going to be sleeping in there with you isn’t she?”

The dog would not be sleeping in her room Chloe thought. The only invited guest was Lucifer, though for the moment even that was uncertain – Chloe was seriously considering making him sleep on her couch tonight if he was planning on staying over; it would serve him right for disappearing without an explanation for two days.

“Yay!” Trixie said, running off to her room, puppy in arm, “You’re going to really like my room Bella,” trixie said to the puppy.

Bella barked in response.

Now Chloe was alone in the front hall with Lucifer, the two of them still sitting on the floor. He looked especially pleased with himself, but his smile faded when he realised that she was no longer smiling at him.

“Darling?” he asked, “What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong? The child seemed quite happy with her gift?”

He seemed genuinely confused; with Lucifer there was no doubting his sincerity on anything – he was truthful to a fault, a trait that occasionally landed him into trouble. Chloe let out a deep breath and shifted closer to him.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

He blinked in confusion, “Why I’ve been out acquiring Beatrice a puppy,” he said it like it was the most obvious answer in the world, “She did say she wanted one and you indicated that you were open to the idea…” he trailed off.

“I said I’d think about it,” Chloe said, “not that we were going to get her a puppy.”

“Oh,” he said, “I thought - the spawn seemed very pleased - I…”

Chloe couldn’t help laughing this time; his look of confusion was pretty funny.

“Chloe, darling are you okay?” he asked. His eyebrows were scrunched up, his face carrying a look of deep genuine concern.

“Yeah,” she said, gasping between giggles, “I’m perfectly fine Lucifer.”

And he was stupidly adorable when he was confused. Not that she would admit it; he would be horrified. She could just imagine him: the Devil is not adorable darling . And his face! The faces he pulled when he was mock offended were hilarious, probably intentionally.

“If you say so darling,” he said, looking dubious.

It took her another minute or so to calm herself down. All the while he continued to look at her with deep concern.

Finally she took a deep breath and straightened herself out.

“Look,” she said, “It’s sweet that you got Trixie a puppy, it really is -”

He smiled. His smiles always warmed her, “I’m glad you think so,” he said.

“But, you should have asked me first,” she said, “Especially since I’ll be the one who will end up having to take care of the puppy once the excitement wears off.”

“Oh,” he said, “But you won’t be,” he added, “Trixie entered into an agreement with Bella; she will be the one taking care of her.”

Chloe was confused, “So, what? My daughter signed a contract with a dog?”

“Essentially,” Lucifer said, “I told the child what she was going into before she took the hound.”

As was often the case Lucifer seemed to deal with Trixie as though she were a mini adult; his knowledge of the proper way to handle children was, well, lacking at best.

“My daughter entered into a magical contract with a hellhound,” Chloe said.

“Yes, I already said that. Do keep up darling,” Lucifer said.

Sometimes his misunderstandings were incredibly frustrating. Unfortunately it was way too late at night for her to be dealing with her frustrations when she had to be up bright and early in the morning to head off to the precinct for an all hands staff meeting. Later. She would be having a more in depth conversation with Lucifer later.

“Okay,” she said, “So is there anything special about the Hellhound that will make her stand out from regular dogs?”

“Bella is hellspawn, so she’s quite long lived. Hellhounds have ten-thousand year lifespans,” he said, “and they’re some of the most loyal creatures in existence. Once they have found a master they will serve and protect their master to their deaths.”

“Oh-kay,” she said, drawing the word out, trying to wrap her head around what he’d said.

“They are also completely obedient,” he said, “Bella will do anything that Trixie asks of her. And Bella can track Trixie’s soul and body to anywhere in existence,” he added.

“Huh,” she said, not sure how else to respond.

“I thought a hellhound would be an excellent companion for the spawn, Beatrice now has a constant protector – an obvious plus given our line of work,” he said. He flashed her another one of his patented aren’t-I-the-greatest smiles.

Chloe didn’t respond, so he just plodded forwards.

“Oh and there’s the preternatural strength, handy in a fight. And she can do the, fires of hell, glimpse of screaming souls of the damned, drive humans crazy look, brilliant really.” He was grinning broadly.

“That all?” Chloe asked.

“For the most part,” he said.

“And what does she eat?” Chloe asked.

“Dog food,” he said, his tone dripping with well duh .

“Okay,” she said.

“Oh and the souls of the damned,” he added brightly, “They need to be dead of course.”

“Are you just screwing with me now?” she asked. He looked as though he were about to answer, but she stopped him, holding up a hand, “Wait- don’t answer that,” she said, “You don’t say anything that you don’t mean.”

“I promised I would never lie to you,” he said, “and my word is my bond. I am a great lover of the truth after all.”

Chloe sighed.

HIs face was bathed in warm, yellowing light and it looked soft and hopeful.

“I just wanted to get Beatrice what she desired,” he said.

She laughed again, “Of course you did,” she said, giving him a soft smile, “how could I fault you for that? Besides we both know how difficult her doe eyes are to resist,”

“Truly, I sometimes wonder if she has some kind of God-given gift of her own detective,” he said wistfully.

She kept smiling at him, warmed by how much he wanted to make her and Trixie happy. She snuggled herself closer into him, breathing in his comforting and familiar scent.

“I’m not mad,” she said, “I was, at first. But you made Trixie so happy, and I can’t fault you for that.”

He wrapped his arms around her, tugging her even closer. “I’m glad that you’re not mad anymore,” he said. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

They sat there for a while longer, and Chloe found herself drifting off in his arms. She was almost asleep when she heard his voice her sleep fogged mind making sound far away.

“Up you get darling,” he said, “can’t have you falling asleep on the floor.”

Her eyes weren’t open but she could tell by the sound of his voice that he was smiling. Then before she could shift around she felt him picking her up. He brought her to their bed and tucked her in, smoothing his hand over her forehead before placing a gentle kiss to the crown of her head.

“Do dream of me,” he said. If she’d been more awake, she’d have gently slapped him.

He left their room, and she let herself fall into morpheus’s arms. When she woke the next morning she was still alone in bed. Had Lucifer gone and disappeared again? It would be just like him, he still had great difficulty with emotional intimacy and tended to disappear for a few hours when he was overwhelmed – though he always came back. She grabbed her cellphone from her nightstand and checked the time – it was already six-thirty! Moreover, it was suspiciously quiet for six-thirty in the morning.

She got out of bed and padded down the hall to Trixie’s room. The door to her daughter’s room was wide open. She peeked in and found her daughter still fast asleep. With her on the bed was Lucifer, who Trixie was laying on top of and and Bella the Hellhound who was buried in Trixie’s arms. It was possibly the cutest thing that she had ever seen. A stupid grin formed on her face.

She took out her phone and snapped several quick pictures to preserve the scene and to use as blackmail against Lucifer, who would be horrified if anyone else saw the pictures. She set the best photo as her phone wallpaper. And she couldn’t help herself – she sent a copy of the photo to Linda.

[manus-multae-cor-unum]

Reminiscence

Prompt Fill for @juldooz, who requested Sherlolly + Waking Up With Amnesia AU from this  Prompt List.

This is unbeta-ed and all mistakes belong to me! :D

Please tell me what you think! :)

AO3

Her head is throbbing. Slowly, her eyelids flutter open. Her vision is blurry; bright lights, people crying, blood stains on the asphalt.

A painful sting coming from the back of her head forces her to close her eyes again.

“Molly.” is the last thing she hears before she loses her consciousness.

He clings to her hand, tracing his fingers over her soft skin, -halting for a moment to feel her blood pulse underneath his thumb.

Sherlock stops and leans forward to brush a strand of hair out of her face. Molly sighs in her sleep, slightly shifting.

He sinks back down into the chair next to her bed. His back aches, and his stomach is grumbling, but nevertheless he takes her hand again.

The beeping of the monitors and her quiet snorting make him drowsy and soon he falls into a deep sleep.

The sun rises, dipping the cloudy sky into a deep orange. Molly wakes up, feeling the warm rays dance over her face. She stares up at the ceiling, blinking away the tears that are welling up in the corners of her eyes. Her body hurts from exhaustion. She breathes in and out, trying to calm herself down.

“Molly?” a sudden grip on her hand rips her out off her thoughts. “Oh my God, you are awake.”

She turns her around to inspect the person behind the rich baritone voice. A man with a wild mob of curls and storm gray eyes looks down on her. His lips curl up into a wide smile before he presses his mouth to her knuckles.

Molly’s eyes open in bewilderment. Fast, she draws her hand away and hides it under the dotted blanket.

“I do not know you! Who are you? What are you doing in here?” her head is aching again. She winces in pain and reaches out to scale up the dose of morphine she is receiving.

“Molly, it is me Sherlock.” the stranger says softly, yet slightly confused.

“I have already told you, Sir: I do not know you! And if you do not leave I feel urged to call for help.” her voice is low. She stares up at him, for a moment she thinks that there are tears shimmering in his eyes.

He straightens his back, nods, and heads out the room. On the doorstep, he stops to look at her once more. He opens his mouth – as if he is to say something – but closes it again. Instead, he smiles and then he is gone.

“Temporary amnesia is very common after a head injury, Mister Holmes.” the nurse behind the counter says while sorting files.

“I know that, but what if she does not remember me?” he does not even try to hide his worry.

The nurse looks up from her work and smiles, “I am sure she will.”

Sherlock nods silently before heading over to the waiting area. He falls down into one of the plastic chairs. The phone in his coat pocket starts ringing and he pulls it out fast, checking the display.

“Mycroft.”

“Brother of mine, I am sorry to hear about Miss Hooper. How is she doing?” Mycroft asks.

“She is awake,” Sherlock sighs and closes his eyes for a few seconds, “- the doctors say that the worst has passed by now.”

“Does she remember the accident? My men have been doing the best they can to find the driver but it seems like he has disappeared completely.”

“She does not remember anything, not even me.” his voice cracks but he does not care.

Mycroft inhales sharply “I am positive that it is only temporary; do not worry too much.”

“I do hope so as well. Thank you for your call, Mycroft.” Sherlock is about to hang up when his brother interrupts:

“Shall I come over?”

The tears in Sherlock’s eyes burn horribly and he tries to suppress a sob.

“Yes please,” he answers in a whisper.

Mycroft finds his brother in the waiting hall, face buried in his hands; his entire form shaking. Fast, he sinks down in a chair next to him, grabbing him by the shoulders to hold him.

“Everything will be all right,” Mycroft promises, softly rocking his brother in his arms.

Sherlock sobs uncontrollably against his shoulder.

They continue to sit like this for a while until a nurse approaches them to inform Sherlock that Molly has asked for him.

“She wanted to know where the stranger from this morning had gone,” the nurse explains.

“So she still does not remember anything?” Sherlock rubs his eyes.

“I am afraid so, Sir. But let’s not lose hope.”

Molly watches him moving slowly towards the door. He seems insecure, worried, a little frightened. She smiles when he ruffles through his hair one last time, making sure that he looks at least somehow acceptable. The purple shirt he is wearing is wrinkled but it suits him well, she thinks.

When he enters the room, she sits up straight, greeting him with a warm smile.

“Hello.” she says and points towards the empty chair next to her bed.

He crosses the room and sits down. “How are you?” he asks.

“Well, my head is still hurting. But apart from that, I am fine.”

Sherlock stays silent, for once in his life he does not know what to say.

“I am sorry that I cannot remember you.” her voice fills the silence, “I barely remember my name and where I am from. I do not even know why I am here, what I do for a living, or where I live.” her voice trembles, “What if I never regain my memories?”

He takes her hand at those words, “You will, I promise,” he says.

Her eyes lock with his. Carefully, she touches his cheek, her fingers tracing along his cheekbone. He leans into her touch, closing his eyes.

 “I love you,” he whispers and presses a short kiss to the palm of her hand.

Molly tosses and turns in her sleep this night. She is haunted by nightmares; she is sitting in a car cheerfully singing along to a song, it is dark outside; the stars are glimmering through the big woolly clouds, but suddenly there is a flash of light. A car is racing towards her. Molly tries to hit the brakes, but it is too late already. A loud crash; the sound of metal rubbing against metal; glass shattering, then silence. She is paralyzed, her body is screaming in pain; her hands are shaking when she tries to open the car door. She falls outside, hitting the cold asphalt. Molly tries to focus; her head hurts and there is a ringing in her ears. Her vision is becoming blurry. She groans as she attempts to get up on her feet, but she is too weak. Sirens are going off in the distance, people are shouting her name.

“I am here,” she says, barely audible. Tears are slipping from her eyes before they fall close.

Everything around her is black, his voice is like a ray of sunshine on a rainy day, “Molly.”

She wakes up with his name on her lips, “Sherlock.”

Her mind is overwhelmed when her memories are slowly restored; names, places, faces, smells, feelings.

She remembers the day her dad died, it was a sunny day in August; the day she finished university; the moment when she first held Toby at the animal shelter, immediately falling in love with the tiny ball of fur in her hands. She recognizes the melody of the song, that was playing in her dream, it was her mothers favorite.

Then, she starts to remember him. The first day she met him, their first date; their first kiss; the look of hurt in his eyes as she left his flat in anger after their first row. She remembers the softness of his skin against hers, his eyes, his smile; the way his nose crinkles when he is concentrating or how the light illuminated the scars on his back each morning when they woke up next to each other.

Molly rolls over to grab her phone from the nightstand. She stares at the lock-screen; a picture of him and her in front of his parents house. She starts to giggle as she spots Mycroft in the background, looking through the curtains of the kitchen window, an expression of confusion on his face.

Fast, she unlocks her phone, now being able to recall the PIN.

She goes through her pictures, most of them are random snaps of Sherlock at different times of the day, in some he is asleep on the couch after a long case, in others he is holding Rosie or playing with her in the park.

Her smile grows wider when she spots the picture of them in Paris. She remembers that he did not want to pose in front of the Eiffel Tower, like couples always do. Mary and John were enlightened to see Sherlock finally obeying, and happily took a picture of them. Sherlock held her in his arms, and while Molly was smiling into the camera, his eyes rested on her; a fond smile dancing upon his lips.

Molly shoots a quick glance towards the clock, 4 AM. She hesitates for a moment before she presses the call button. He answers immediately.

“Hello?” he sounds sleepy.

“Do you remember the night you first told me you loved me? It was raining and I had forgotten to bring my jacket, so you handed me your coat, and walked me home. We were on London Bridge when you suddenly stopped. I asked you what was wrong and you just stared at me, I could see how your mind was rattling, and then you simply said: I love you so much, Molly Hooper, please do not ever leave me.” her voice is wobbly.

Molly patiently waits for an answer; time passes and she fears that he might have fallen asleep again.

“Sherlock?” she asks and presses the phone closer to her ear. Silence.

Suddenly the door of her room is teared open and he bursts inside, rushes over to her.

“You remember,” he breathes out. His cheeks are red from the cold.

She nods and puts the phone aside. He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of her hair. Molly shifts in her bed, so that there is enough space for the two of them. Fast, he slips out off his coat and shoes and sinks down beside her.

“I thought I had lost you,” he mumbles.

Her head is pressed against his chest; she inhales his scent as she listens to his racing heart.

She moves so that she is able look into his eyes. “You will never lose me, Sherlock Holmes.” she whispers against his lips.

He smiles at her like he did when they were in Paris, before he leans in to kiss her.

[waywardnerd67]

The Queen’s Court - Chap 16 Same Difference

Summary: Dean calls on (Y/N) after a disagreement with Castiel. When she is unable to take care of him, she figures out a way for someone else too. Characters: Dean Winchester, Cassie (OFC), Reader Pairing: Dean x Reader / Dean x Cassie (OFC) Warnings: Fluff/Smut/Age Difference (OFC is 20/Dean is 34) Word Count: 2554 Squared Filled: Age Difference A/N #1: This is for @spnkinkbingo​ card A/N #2: As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

Check Out: The Queen’s Court Masterlist

“(Y/N), I’m ready to move up to my own room.” The petite brunette stood her ground which (Y/N) admired about her.

“I’ll make you deal Cassie, if you let me pick your clientele for the first year then I will arrange for you to have the vacant room on floor seven next to Morgan.” she offered hearing her phone buzz on her nightstand.

Cassie’s bright blue eyes widen, “Really?”

(Y/N) nodded hearing her phone go off for the second time, “Really. I will be monitoring you closely as well as Morgan. Deal?”

“Deal! Thank you (Y/N).” Cassie threw her arms around (Y/N)’s neck hugging her tightly making her chuckle.

“You’re welcome, now take this card and get whatever materials you need for your room. Your budget is five thousand to get furniture and whatever else you want. I will let you know within the week when I have a client picked out for you.” (Y/N) handed her the business credit card when there was a loud knock on her door.

Dean walked in his jaw clenched and brows furrowed looking up to see (Y/N) and Cassie, “Oh… sorry pretty girl. I’ll just wait in your room.”

She watched as Cassie’s eyes never left Dean, “Is he available for being a client?”

(Y/N) laughed walking Cassie towards the door, “Sorry, he’s a special client of mine. Enjoy your shopping spree and check in with Morgan before going out.”

As she shut the door, Dean came walking back out. Before she could say anything his lips were smashed against her while his hands were making fast work of her jeans. Gently, she pushed him away just enough to speak.

“D-Dean, what’s going on?” she asked as his lips traveled down her neck.

His hands slipped beneath her ass scooping her up and wrapping her legs around him, “My friend is being an idiot, we fought and I need to get some of this energy out of my system. No better way of doing that then making you come over and over again.”

Her tights squeezed against his waist making him chuckle, “Dean… I can’t.”

He stopped in the middle of her bedroom putting her feet on the ground. The rejection in his green eyes broke her heart, “What? Do you have another client coming in?”

“No, of course not. I told you I would stop seeing my other clients.” she said as he sat on her bed her eyes traveling to the hard outline of his cock.

“Then what?” He asked, running his hands over his thighs.

(Y/N) said next to him taking his hand into hers, “I’m sorry pretty boy, I want nothing more than for you to fuck my brains out…”

“But?” he looked up at her.

“But, I’m on my period and not into that kind of sex.” As the words came from her mouth, Dean’s shoulders visibly relaxed.

He placed his arm around her shoulders then pressed his lips to her temple, “No problem. I’m sorry I just rushed in here.”

(Y/N) crawled up to the head of her bed and patted the spot next to her, “How about you tell me what has got you frustrated and we’ll see if a little mouth exercises would help your situation.”

Dean stood up shrugging out of his jacket then sitting next to her on the bed. (Y/N) listened to him detail the fight with Castiel that led him to coming to The Queen’s Court. As she listened, she noticed the subtle changes in his tone from frustration to worry.

“Boil it down, you’re just concerned for Cas and want him to stay safe.” (Y/N) said running her fingers along his thigh.

He threw his hands up, “Exactly! Finally someone understands.”

“You love him.” she stated as Dean’s gaze snapped to hers.

He shook his head, “I mean in a brother sort of way…”

(Y/N) chuckled, taking a hold of his hand, “Cut the crap, Dean. Of all people in this world, you can be open and honest with me. No judgements. No opinions. Nothing but an ear to listen to you and support. If you’re attracted to Cas then so be it. Doesn’t mean you have to act on it. Doesn’t mean you’re any less of the handsome, strong man you are. You wouldn’t be the first man to admit to having feelings for a man they are close to.”

Dean leaned back against her headboard sighing, “Cas says we have a profound bond. I don’t know what that means but I do know I’ve changed since he’s been in my life. I would do anything for him just like I would for Sam and for you. If that means I love him then sure.”

“Can I ask you a blunt question?” (Y/N) squeezed his hand as he nodded, “Given the chance, no questions asked, no repercussions, would you sleep with Cas?”

There was a long moment of silence before he spoke, “I don’t know. I’ve never allowed myself to explore those thoughts. I think I would be more comfortable exploring those feelings with a chick that looked like him.”

As he chuckled an idea popped into (Y/N)’s head, “Wait here pretty boy, I’ll be right back.”

She got up going into her office shutting the bedroom door behind her. Quickly sending a text from her phone it was a few minutes later Cassie was walking back through her door. After explaining what her idea was, Cassie excitedly agreed to help her.

(Y/N) walked back in to find Dean stretched out on her bed. His head resting on his folded arms and his eyes closed. She crawled onto the bed leaning over to kiss him. A soft moan rumbled in his chest as his fingers went up into her hair. Kissing down his neck, her hand slowly stroked his denim covered cock.

“Sweetheart, as much as I would love your mouth on my cock, I think I would rather wait to bury myself deep inside of you.” Dean said gently moving her hand to his chest.

Though turned on and surprised she continued with her plan, “What if I had an idea for you to work through some of your Cas feelings while working off some of your frustrations.”

He looked at her curiously just a knock came from her door, “Trust me, please.” she said getting up to answer it.

Cassie was dressed in a modest pleated skirt falling to her knees, a white button down shirt with a striped blue tie that (Y/N) happened to have a Castiel’s and a tan trench coat (Y/N) happened to have been ordered a few months early. Her long, chocolate hair was braided over one shoulder and her blue eyes shined against her fair skin. If Castiel were to have a twin angel sister then Cassie would be it.

“Dean, I would like for you to meet Cassie.” (Y/N) stepped aside giving him a full view of her.

His eyes widened while his full lips parted, “H-Hi…”

“Hello Dean.” Dean let out a small gasp getting off the bed.

(Y/N) could tell her was about to bolt, “Dean, Cassie is being promoted to one of the rooms to take clients full time in person. She has only been taking phone clients for two years and I would be grateful if you could be her first client tonight so I can show her the ropes per se. It would be a one time thing and a huge help to me.”

His eyes narrowed in on her before sighing walking over to them, “Not a word to anyone.” he whispered to her.

“Promise on my heart. Are you okay with me watching?” she asked, seeing a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“I would have it no other way pretty girl.” He turned towards Cassie, “Cassie?”

She nodded, “Yeah. Honestly, I prefer Cas unrelated to whatever this is, but whatever makes you more comfortable.”

Dean nodded stepping in front of her. His broad, muscular body made Cassie seem even smaller in size. (Y/N) wondered if that was how she looked standing in front of him. She watched the way he spoke to her softly and with a warmth that he buried deep inside of him. It was the way he talked to people he was showing care to. Watching Cassie nearly melt into his embrace almost made (Y/N) chuckle.

“Charmer.” she whispered to herself watching them walk towards her bed.

The back of Cassie’s thighs were against the edge of the bed as Dean leaned down to kiss her. Just before his lips met hers, his eyes connected with (Y/N)’s asking silent permission. She nodded giving him a reassuring smile then his lips pressed against Cassie’s.

(Y/N) watched as Dean took his time removing each layer of clothing while leaving no patch of skin untouched by his lips. (Y/N) felt her knees getting weak as the memories of being on the receiving end of his slow torture and she sat on her oversized chair. As Cassie pushed herself towards the head of the bed, Dean began stripping his own layers of flannel and denim off.

The moment his hard cock was free from his boxers, (Y/N) could not help the low groan escaping her lips. As if he had heard her, Dean looked up gripping his length and slowly stroking himself while making eye contact with her. In a weird way, she felt as if he were letting her know that he was hers and he was only doing this because she asked.

Dean began kissing down her body and soon soft moans were filling her room. (Y/N) admirer how attentive Dean was to Cassie’s wants as he found she loved her nipples being sucked on. Soon his head was nestled between her legs as she cried out from the first swipe of his tongue over her sensitive mound. Her fingers racked through his thick hair as his mouth worked over her. Cassie’s back was arched, her body shaking as he brought her first orgasm washing over her body.

“Oh god Dean! Right there… yes, yes, Dean!” her body relaxed as he kissed his way back up to her.

Rolling them so she was on top, Cassie quickly made her way down to his cock. Her mouth covered his swollen heard as he grunted, “Fuck.”

As Cassie’s head began to bop up and down, the tightness in (Y/N)’s belly was getting to her. She watched as Dean’s hand gently guided Cassie over his cock with his eyes meeting (Y/N)’s. She found herself unbuttoning her shirt just enough for her hand to slip over her breast.

“Yes, just like that. Fuck.” Dean moaned, never looking away from (Y/N).

She knew it was more for her than for Cassie and that could be their little secret. (Y/N) massaged and pinched her nipples just like he would if they were in bed together. Instinctively, her other hand slipped between her legs rubbing lazy circles against her covered pussy.

Dean swiftly pulled Cassie up to him rolling back over her, angling himself and pushing deep inside of her. (Y/N)’s lips parted seeing this magical moment from a far. The control Dean exerted from just not pounding into her. Every muscle rippling down his back, his arms and legs. The sheer strength that flowed through him was awe-inspiring.

Her own hands stilled against her body mesmerized by Dean in the moment. She could tell Cassie was close to her release as her moans echoed throughout the bedroom. Dean had been silent except for a few grunts. His body was more rigid as he thrusted into her.

“Shit Cas, you feel so good. I-I’m almost there… come with me, Cas.” Dean bent down pounding into her hard as she wrapped her limbs around him.

“Oh… Dean, I’m coming! Fuck!” Cassie cried out her body shaking beneath his.

That is when (Y/N) watched the most beautiful moment. Dean’s body tensed briefly with every muscle seizing and then she watched him let go. Pumping into her as his body trembled from the pleasure coursing through his body. He pushed inside her once more holding himself deep within her as she clung to him. He was letting her ride out her own release squeezing that glorious cock for every drop of pleasure.

She watched as Dean kissed Cassie as he pulled out of her swallowing the groan escaping her lips. Rolling onto his back, he pulled her close whispering something in her ear. Cassie nodded, kissing his cheek and getting out of bed unsteadily.

She walked up to (Y/N) clenching the trench coat around her naked body, “No client will ever be as good as him.”

(Y/N) shook her head knowing Cassie was not asking for an answer. She kissed Cassie’s cheek as she left the room and looked back to Dean. He was slipping underneath her sheet and patted the bed next to him. She gladly joined him even though her body was aching for a release of her own. It was worth it though seeing a new side of Dean.

“Please tell me she was over eighteen.” he whispered as his lips pressed against her ear.

She smacked him softly on the chest, “Of course she was, Dean Winchester! The only employees I have under eighteen work a teen help line for kids who are having mental health issues. The only reason why they work here is to keep them safely off the streets.”

“You are an amazing woman, (Y/N). But seriously, how old was she?” she could hear the nervousness in his voice.

(Y/N) glanced up at him from her resting spot on his chest, “She just turned twenty a week ago.”

Dean groaned running his hand through his hair, “Fuck… no wonder she could come instantly. She could have kept going all night long.”

(Y/N) started laughing, “What? Wouldn’t have been able to keep up with her old man?”

He scoffed, “I bet I could have but then what kind of state would have that left you in. Pretty girl, I bet you’re aching for some relief.”

“I’m fine.” she said averting her gaze back to his chest. She hated how he could read her body so clearly.

“No you’re not. Your body is tense from being worked up. I know it’s that time of the month but is there any way I could help you?” He was genuinely concerned about her which melted her heart.

(Y/N) lifted herself up straddling his thick, muscular thigh, “What if you get worked up again?” she asked, grinding herself against him.

Dean rolled her onto her back settling between her legs. He was not hard but could feel he was well on his way to getting there. Rolling his hips against her, (Y/N) groaned allowing her head to press against the pillow.

“Oh, I think this will be a mutual release that we both are in need of.” He snapped his hips against her making her cry out before taking her down a path of pleasure of the next hour.

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[valeriaanne]

Access to You - Sherlock fanfic

Fanfiction      Ao3

Summary: Sherlock already has access to the pathology lab and the morgue, what could he possibly need more than that? One-Shot, Sherlolly.

Words: 1915, Rating: T Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper. Category: Romance / Humor

This story takes place after Sherlock came back from the "dead".

This story is unbetaed, so the mistakes are all mine. Wish the characters were, too ^_^

"Sherlock. Stop following me. I am busy." Molly said, almost shouting.

She just walked into the pathology lab, coming from the morgue. She was running three different tests simultaneously and she needed her full attention. It was for a murder case.

"It is not a case I am working on." Sherlock said indifferently. He has been hovering over her in the morgue, and when she left to check the test results in the lab, he followed her.

"Yes, I know. But, it is still a case."

"It is only a 4." he shrugged.

Molly turned to face him, "Have you solved it already?"

"Nope. I didn't bother. I am quite sure Lestrade and his incompetent officers will solve it without my help."

Molly turned her attention again to the microscope, "Well, Mr. Genius, Lestrade needs to get these results asap, and just because you are not working on this case, doesn't mean it is not important."

Sherlock froze and stared at her, "Since when do you work with Lestrade?"

"I am sorry?" she asked quietly, concentrating on the sample she was testing under the microscope.

"You work with me." Sherlock said, almost shouting.

"No."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I definitely don't."

"Of course, you do." he insisted.

"Mmm, I think I will remember if I ever made such an arrangement with you." she said, turning to the computer screen to check something.

"Molly, have you been hit on your head? You always work on my cases." He stared at her as if she was sick.

"Yes, I always work on your cases, but I also work on other cases that you don't work on. Because guess what, Sherlock?" she turned her head to look at him, smiling.

"What, Molly?" he mimicked her.

"I am not your pathologist on-call, and I am definitely not your lab assistant." She smiled again, and then turned her attention to the computer screen.

Actually, I am his pathologist on-call. I am the only pathologist he works with. Anyway...

Sherlock stood still for about ten seconds before saying, "Alright, no problem. That's not why I am here."

Molly's eyes were still glued to the computer screen, and he did not like that.

Why didn't she ask me why I am here? When did she learn how to ignore me like that? I am here and she is gazing at that screen? How dare she gaze at the screen when I am standing right next to her? Am I jealous of the screen? How is that even possible? No, I am not jealous; I am just… anyway, time to get Molly's full attention. I have every right to get her full attention because...I am me and she is...her?!

"So, Molly, do you know that this new hairstyle really suits you?" he said, smiling, trying to get her to talk to him.

Molly turned her head slowly to look at him, narrowing her eyes.

Oh, no. Did I say something wrong?

He quickly continued, "The ponytail really suits you, of course, but I always find the braid to suit you better."

She stared at him for a few more seconds before looking at the computer screen again and calmly saying "Thanks, Sherlock."

"And your lipstick..."

Molly raised an eyebrow in surprise and turned her head sharply to stare at him, "What lipstick? I am not wearing any."

"Exactly, that's my point." He shouted happily.

Why am I shouting? And why am I happy?

"You don't need to wear it. Your lips are...perf- no, I mean...good. I mean...perfect."

Stop stuttering, Sherlock. Since when do you stutter?

"Thanks, Sherlock." she said again, moving to check another sample on another microscope.

Am I not convincing enough? I have always been convincing enough.

He walked to where she sat on a lab stool and said, "I mean what I said by the way."

"Yes, of course." Molly said, without raising her head.

He pouted his lips in annoyance. She didn't believe him.

Time to change the plan, or maybe stick to it?!

"Molly..." he said in a lower voice.

"Yes, Sherlock?" she said, still not looking at him.

Since when did the microscope become more interesting than me?

"Did you change your perfume?" he said, trying to sound casual.

Alright, that was it.

Molly raised her head from the microscope sharply and shouted, "Oh, for God's sake, Sherlock. What's wrong with you today?"

"Nothing is wrong with me. I am perfectly fine." he said calmly.

"No, you are not."

"I feel fine." he said, waving his arms dramatically.

Maybe John is right. I am a drama queen.

Molly took a deep breath, stood up and said in a calm yet firm voice, "I thought we agreed, Sherlock."

"On what?" he said, looking puzzled.

"No more buttering me up." she said, like she was explaining something to a child.

This time, Sherlock was really puzzled. "Buttering you up? I am not butter..."

Molly took a step forward and shouted, "You are, Sherlock. First, my hairstyle, which is actually a very plain braid, by the way, in case you haven't noticed. Then, my lips, and now my perfume."

"I meant what I said."

"No, Sherlock, you didn't."

"Of course, I did. I know that because I said those words."

Molly closed her eyes for a couple of seconds, then opened them and looked at him, "Sherlock...we agreed. No more fake flirting. No more flirting at all."

Is she sad? Why does she look sad?

"It is not fake." he said, trying not to shout in frustration.

Why can't she believe me?

Maybe because you used to fake-flirt her before, you idiot.

Get out of my head, John.

She turned her back to him and continued like she didn't hear what he said. "You don't have to keep commenting about my hair and my perfume. I mean, you already have access to the morgue and the pathology lab. What more access could you possibly gain by saying those...words?!"

"Oh, for God's sake, woman!"

In one swift motion, Sherlock put his strong hands on Molly's shoulders, turned her around, and before she can even comprehend what was happening, his lips were on hers.

It wasn't a rough kiss; neither demanding and needy, nor tender and chaste. It was passionate, emotional and sensual, and before Molly could react properly, he broke the kiss, gazing at her eyes, and saying in his husky voice, "Access to you."

Molly stared at him with her wide brown eyes, not believing what she was hearing.

Is that a trick? No, he didn't need that. He already had access to the morgue, the pathology lab, and I still smuggle body parts to him for his experiments. Then why?

Molly took a step back and stared at him, "Sherlock, why are you d-doing this?"

"Doing what?" he asked innocently.

"What you just did." she said, still trying to calm her strong-beating heart down.

"Oh, you mean this?" and he leaned again to kiss her on the lips, this time a more tender kiss.

When he broke the kiss and looked at her, her eyes were closed and she was heavily blushed.

"Molly?" he muttered in a low voice. She didn't answer.

"Molly?" He raised his fingers to touch her face, and as soon as his fingertips touched her cheek, she gasped and opened her eyes widely, as if she just woke up from a dream.

"Alright, Molly, you need to say something, because you are starting to scare me." He wasn't actually scared. He was worried that he did or said something wrong. He really meant what he said and he really wanted her to believe him.

"Sherlock...if you are d-doing this to get more body parts or to...to?" she stuttered, trying to gather her thoughts.

"To what?" he asked, suppressing a smile.

"I don't know. You tell me." Molly shouted in frustration.

"I already told you." He said calmly. Molly peered at him, frowning.

"I want access to you."

Molly took a sharp breath, and stared at him like she was witnessing a supernatural phenomenon.

"And in the meantime, I don't mind giving you access to me, although I think you already have that."

"I do?" she asked, blinking.

He smiled widely and said in his sexy voice, "Oh, yes. Yes, you do."

Molly grinned, because that was all she needed to hear from him. He was right; he didn't need to trick her, at least not anymore. He already had access to the lab and the morgue. He didn't need her permission. Maybe he needed something else. Maybe he needed her...just her.

"Sherlock?" Molly said, almost whispering.

"Molly?" Sherlock said, grinning.

"Can I kiss you?"

"By all means, be my guest."

This time, she initiated the kiss. She stood on her tiptoes, cupped his oh-so-handsome face with her hands and brushed her lips against his one...two...three times, before he raised his left hand to cup her face, while encircling her petite waist with his right arm to pull her closer to his body and...

"Molly, did you finish the ...?"

Lestrade just stepped into the pathology lab to check the lab results, but he was greeted by different kind of results. Once he set his eyes on them, he froze and choked on his own words.

"What the...?", he mumbled.

Without breaking the kiss, Sherlock raised his left hand and waved it towards the lab door, silently telling Lestrade to shoo away, while pulling Molly closer to him when she tried to break the kiss after hearing Lestrade's voice.

Lestrade swallowed and without saying another syllable, he shook his head in disbelief, turned around and closed the lab door behind him, still trying to wrap his head around what he just saw.

Inside the lab, Molly was the first to break the kiss; she desperately needed to catch her breath. Her heart was beating rapidly and she really needed to calm down. Sherlock looked at her, smiling widely. This time, the smile did reach his eyes. It was a true smile.

"That was Lestrade, right?" Molly asked, taking deep breaths.

"Right." he answered her, still smiling widely.

"He probably needed the test results... you know...for the...for the case."

She pointed her finger towards the door, as if telling him that she needed to go after Lestrade.

Molly turned to leave the lab, a part of her embarrassed that Lestrade caught her kissing Sherlock, but sooner or later, she was going to talk to him about the case.

Better sooner than later, then.

Molly managed to take exactly two steps before she was pulled back to Sherlock's arms.

"The case can wait. I can't." Before she could even utter a word of protest, his lips were on hers again.

The End

All reviews are welcome.

[waywardnerd67]

A Balanced Life: Chap. 5 - Hot for Teacher

Summary: Dean and (Y/N) have secretly been dating for a while and it is getting harder to keep it secret. (Y/N) spends the night with Dean and they get caught by Sammi who has harsh reaction to the whole situation. Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Sammi Winchester (OFC), Reader Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Fluff/Slight Angst/Lite Smut Word Count: 2292 A/N: As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

Catch Up Here: A Balanced Life Masterlist

Four months. It had been four months since Dean and (Y/N)’s first lunch date. That lunch turned into dinner a couple nights a week then overnight stays at her house on the weekends. The only two people to know about their relationship was Sam and Castiel, who both disapproved of it. For the first time since he loss Lisa, he felt like he had someone who can handle the life he led.

Dean nervously paced in the library waiting for his phone to chime with a text. Sam came walking out with Sammi carrying a weekend bag for her. “Dad are you okay?”

He looked down at her smiling, “Yeah sweetheart, I’m fine. You know how I am when you’re not in the Bunker. I get lonely especially since Sam and Cas will not be here either.”

Sammi laughed softly before wrapping her arms around his waist, “I’ll be home on Sunday after hanging out with Miss (Y/L/N). You can text me if you want.”

The fact that she even offered that to him filled his heart with joy, “Thank you, I appreciate that.” He hugged her tightly, “Have fun this weekend and I will see you on Sunday.”

He looked up to his brother seeing the disapproving scowl on his face. Sammi pulled on his arm, “Come on Uncle Sam or I’m going to be late.”

Dean watched as they walked up the stairs and out the Bunker door. Castiel was doing some angel thing while Sam was going to go to Sioux Falls for the weekend. Leaving him alone in the Bunker in order to invite (Y/N) over. Tonight, he was going to do the one thing he had vow never to do again after Lisa. He was going to tell her who he really was.

Making sure one of the wooden tables was set for dinner and their food was warming in the oven. He began pacing again awaiting her text. Dean jumped slightly when his phone chimed, and he quickly pulled it from his pocket.

“Okay, I’m here… I think lol.” Her text said.

Dean leaped up the stairs two at a time making his way out the heavy Bunker door. Taking a deep breath before opening the exterior door he found (Y/N) shuffling from foot to foot on the other side of it. “Welcome to my humble abode.” He said opening the door wider.

“Not going to lie Winchester, I’m a little freaked right now.” She confessed making him chuckle nervously.

She walked in looking around the dimly lit corridor waiting for him to lead the way. “I promise, it’s much nicer on the inside.” He was going to make a joke about their dungeon but decided against it.

Once he opened the door leading into the main room of the Bunker, (Y/N)’s face lit up. She stood at the railing overlooking the war room and part of the library smiling in awe. “Ho-ly crap…” she whispered looking up at him.

“Come on I will give you the grand tour.” He said as she followed him down the stairs.

He took her around all the main parts of the Bunker leaving out the dungeon and armory. When they circled back around towards the kitchen she helped him bring in dinner which was Chinese from her favorite place in town. They sat chit chatting about their week and how much she loved the library.

“Okay, so tell me how you came to live here.” She said as he cleared their dishes and brought in a bottle of wine.

Dean knew this was the moment. The moment that had his stomach in knots and palms constantly rubbing against his thighs to dry off. He poured her another glass filling it with a little more than before and then grabbed himself a glass of whiskey.

“My grandfather, Henry, was apart of a secret organization called the Men of Letters. They were scholars who studied supernatural related phenomena. Our father was in line to also be a Man of Letters, but my grandfather disappeared before he could.” Dean decided to skip over the time traveling bit and save it for another time if there was one.

(Y/N) took a drink of her wine listening intently to him as he continued, “We were left this Bunker because we are legacies. Sam and I did not have a traditional childhood nor does Sammi. I do my best to give her as much as a normal childhood as possible, but my job kind of messes with that.”

He downed his whiskey pouring another glass. “What do you mean by that?” (Y/N) asked genuinely curious.

Dean threw up a small prayer to whoever would listen and began telling (Y/N) all about his day job and his life. Seeing her facial reactions had his stomach clenching in fear that at any moment she would start running for the door. When he finished telling her everything she sat there in silence staring at him.

“You hunt monsters?” she asked just like everyone else did when they found out what he and his brother did.

“Yes. We have saved this world more times than I can count.” He answered leaning forward slightly on the table.

(Y/N) nodded slowly letting out a long breath, “Wow.” Was all she said.

“Look, after Sammi’s mom passed, I swore I would never tell another woman who I really was. The fact that you’re even inside this Bunker, hearing this is a small miracle in my book.” Dean nervously ran his hand over the back of his neck.

“I’m a pretty open-minded person, but this is a lot to take in. I knew something tragic happened to Sammi’s mom because she writes about it all the time in class. I knew your family was special but this… this is completely…” she drifted off with her mouth slightly opened.

“Nuts?” he asked as she chuckled nodding, “Yeah I know it is, but this is our life. I would completely understand if you do not want to see me anymore, but I care about you enough to be honest. I would just appreciate if you did not call child services on us. As you can see, Sammi has perfect attendance, well fed and clothed.”

(Y/N) smiled getting up making Dean’s heart stop briefly until she sat across his lap wrapping her arms around his neck. “Dean, it will take more than a weird job to scare me away. Especially since you ‘care’ about me so much.”

She ran her fingers through his hair as he chuckled, “So, you think you can handle dating a hunter who goes out and kills vampires, werewolves and demons?”

He looked up into her (Y/C/E) eyes as she leaned down kissing him, “What woman could pass up on the chance of dating a real-life superhero.”

Dean watched as she drew her bottom lip between her teeth and could not keep from kissing her deeply. (Y/N)’s hands went up into his hair as he kissed down her neck, “D-Dean…” she said breathlessly.

He stood up carrying her down the hallway towards his room. He set her feet on the floor kicking the door shut as he pulled her shirt over her head. Their lips crashing together as she ran her hands up his stomach and chest tossing his shirt to the side. Within in minutes, they were both bare and falling into bed together.

The whimpers and cries tumbling from her lips spurring feelings deep down he thought he would never have again. Watching as she sank down onto him throwing her head back pressing her breasts further into his calloused hands. When the moment came they reached their release it was the way his name came off her lips sending him over the edge.

That night laying with her curled up beside him, Dean felt it in his heart that he wanted this all the time. He need her in his life to balance out all the horrors he witness. For the first time in his entire life, he fell asleep with no dreams or nightmares haunting him. He slept peacefully and deeply knowing he was safe with her by his side.

Dean slowly opened his eyes to see (Y/N) smiling down at him. She was covered by one of his flannel shirts only and her panties. Her hair was beautifully cascading down over her shoulders and her hand was drifting further and further down his body.

“Good morning gorgeous.” He said as her fingers toyed with the edge of the sheet covering his lower half.

She bit her lip, “Mornin’ handsome…” he sing-song tone having a mischievous hint to it. She brushed her fingers over him and that was all it took for him to roll her onto her back and have his way with her.

After their morning love making, (Y/N) decided she wanted to get up and make him breakfast. He watched as she slipped his shirt back on along with her panties heading out his door. “Oh!” he heard her call out.

Dean quickly slipped on his boxers heading right behind her. His eyes wide in shock seeing Sammi in the hallway staring at (Y/N) barely covered by his flannel. “Sammi, w-what are you doing home?” he asked.

“My friend got sick and Uncle Cas brought me home late last night. What is Miss (Y/L/N) doing here?” she asked placing her hands on her hips.

(Y/N) slipped behind him, “I’m going to get dress now.” Dean nodded as Sammi began walking away.

He grabbed his jeans and a t-shirt hastily putting them on as he followed his daughter down the hallway to the library. Castiel was sitting at one of the large tables looking up curiously as Sammi stomped into the room.

“Sammi, stop and let me explain to you.” Dean called out as his daughter whipped around facing him. She looked so much like Lisa that his heart ached.

Her lips pursed into a thin line before speaking, “Are you dating my teacher? Is that the only reason why she allows me to hang out on the weekends? To get in your pants!”

“Whoa! Hold up a second, that is uncalled for. (Y/N) and I have been seeing each other for a few months. After the fact that she wanted to be a positive role model in your life.” Sammi threw her hands up in the air before crossing them over her chest.

“Oh my god, for months! I thought we had no secrets dad! This could ruin my life if things go south and how did you even explain our ‘home’ to her?” she yelled.

Dean stepped closer to her holding out his hands to her, “I’m sorry I kept it from you. I wanted to tell her about our lives to make sure she wanted to even be apart of it. I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

“Get my hopes up? Dad, I never wanted you to DATE MY TEACHER! Do you know how weird this is for me?” Sammi’s eyes snapped up to his, “Wait… Miss (Y/L/N) knows about our family?”

Dean nodded as her jaw dropped, “Everything?” she asked as he nodded again. “Oh my god, now she knows how much of a freak I am…”

“Sammi, she doesn’t think that at all. Please just calm down and hear us out. Let’s all go out for breakfast and talk about this.” He suggested as she shook her head.

“I-I need some time to think. I’m going to go to my spot for a little while.” She said walking back towards her room.

Dean stepped in front of her gently taking a hold of her shoulders, “Sammi, I think it would be best if you stay here and heard us out.”

She shook out of his grasp, “Right now, I can’t even face her or you. I need my space and you promise whenever I needed it you would respect that. That is why I have my spot.”

Dean stepped back defeatedly watching his daughter take off down the hallway. He looked over to Castiel who was giving him a sympathetic look. He slumped down into a chair running his hands over his face. That is when he felt (Y/N)’s hands come over his shoulders.

“I think I should go ahead and leave.” She whispered as he looked up at her with tear filled eyes.

Dean encircle her waist bringing her down onto his lap and burying his head into the crook of her neck. “Please stay… I need you to stay.” He whispered.

He felt her rest her cheek on his head and ran her hand down his back soothingly. Castiel got up after several minutes saying he was going to check on Sammi. Dean nodded looking up at (Y/N) as he walked away.

“There is a spot on the roof of the building that Sam and I built for her. It is a spot for her to listen to music loud and have privacy whenever she needed to be alone.” Dean explained as (Y/N) slipped off his lap and into the chair next to him.

(Y/N) gave him a soft smile, “That is a great idea. Kids need space sometimes in order to process things. You really are a great father, Dean.”

Her reassurance made hope rise in his chest as he smiled at her, “Thanks because right now I feel like I’m failing. Epically.”

Castiel came running in from the garage entrance out of breath and Dean’s body went rigid, “Cas what is it?”

Castiel blue eyes were wide with panic sending a chill down his body, “Sammi, she’s gone. She’s not in her spot or anywhere in a five-mile perimeter of the Bunker. Dean, s-she’s missing.”

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[waywardnerd67]

The Void

Summary: (Y/N) does everything in her power to fill the void that was created on one drunk night of bliss. When nothing works, she must be rescued by the one she desperately wants to forget. Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Angst/Sexual Assault/Smut (Consensual)/Fluff Ending Word Count: 2137 GIFs Submitted by: @dean-winchesters-bacon (because she is my go to person for inspiration) A/N: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

(Y/N) gave herself one last look in the mirror satisfied with how she looked. This was her fourth weekend out with the girls trying to catch the attention of any man she could. Her black, leather mini skirt barely covered her ass and the cherry red heels she had on made her legs go one for models. She paired it with a cherry red tank top a size smaller than normal to show off her boobs and curves.

Her hair cascaded down her back and she put the finishing touches on her dramatic make-up making her (Y/C/E) eyes demand attention. Her lips were a deep red begging for someone to kiss her hard and smear it right off. (Y/N)’s heels clicked on the concrete floor as she passed by the one man’s bedroom who could make her instantly weak in the knees.

A loud whistle called to her from his room and she smiled leaning against his door frame. He was sitting at his desk reading something on his laptop, “Damn sweetheart, you don’t have to get all dolled up for me.”

She rolled her eyes, “Ha. Ha. Why would I get all dolled up for you? You’ve already seen my goods and passed on them. You’re loss, sweet cheeks.” (Y/N) put on a good front but deep down the void she had been trying to fill this last few weeks with one-night stands and booze was all Dean Winchester’s fault.

“Ohhh, alright, alright. No need to kick a man when he’s down.” Dean said standing up holding his hands up. His piercing olive eyes bore into hers, “Seriously please be careful going out tonight. I really don’t want to have to come out and beat some guy up for disrespecting you. Hear me?”

His genuine concern soften her tough girl act, “I promise Dean, I’ll be careful. Don’t wait up.” She said touching his forearm affectionately.

“I always do for you, (Y/N/N).” he called out as she smiled walking off towards the garage.

Their usual bar was packed since there was a band playing. They were dancing and drinking the night away. A tall, dark and handsome man made his way over to her laying down a cheesy pick-up line that made her laugh. (Y/N) and mystery man were going shot for shot in between grinding against one another on the dance floor.

He led her outside to the small parking lot behind the loud bar. She needed to tell her friends that she was out there, but he had her pinned against a car within seconds of being outside. “Hey handsome… I need to go back in for just a moment.” She said sweetly kissing his cheek.

The moment she tried to move he slammed her against the car, “How about you stay right here and take care of me like the good little slut you are.”

Panic flooded her body as he held her against the car while undoing his pants. “Get off me! Let me go!” she yelled out praying someone would hear her.

The feeling of his hand hitting her cheek bringing a metallic taste into her mouth stunned her into silence, “Shut the fuck up, bitch. Damn it, I have blood on me now. Useless piece of ass anyway.” He pushed her to the ground putting himself together leaving her there.

(Y/N) did not know how long she was sat on the ground shivering until one of her friends found her bringing her back inside. She sat at the bar until after closing, the bartender promising her friends to get her home safely. The bar was completely empty until the door slammed open revealing a worried Dean charging in.

“(Y/N), what happened?” he asked looking her over. Gingerly touching her bruised cheek, she winced unable to speak. Tears were slowly slipping down her face as Dean spoke to the bartender.

“One of her friends saw her go out with a douchebag and when they were leaving one of them found her curled up on the ground. I don’t know who the guy was, but I sent everyone else on their way and called you. She hasn’t spoken a word, Dean.” He explained tossing keys at him and grabbing his jacket.

Dean walked behind the bar grabbing a bottle and pouring two drinks, “(Y/N/N) you have to talk to me. I know something has been going on with you lately and I can’t help unless you talk to me.”

(Y/N) snapped her eyes up at him a million thoughts running through her head and suddenly they were spewing from her lips, “Help me?! HELP ME! It’s your damn fault I’m even in this mess to begin with!”

He stopped mid drink from her outburst, “How is this my fault? I didn’t hit you but if you tell me who did then I will take care of the son of a bitch!”

(Y/N) shakily stood up kicking off her heels in order to keep her balance. “You don’t even remember! One drunken night of sex with your live in best friend wasn’t even all that rememberable! Except for me because I remember every touch, moan, word you said. Then you acted like it never happened leaving me with this huge void to fill!”

She was breathing heavily as she leaned over the bar, “And you know what? I can’t fill it! No amount of booze and one nighters will fill the emptiness you left me with! Now, I’m just some useless piece of ass that no one wants! Especially YOU!”

She was breathing so heavy that she was dizzy gripping the bar tightly. Dean stared down at her before speaking, “I remember everything.”

Her hands began to tremble as she became light headed, “That makes it even worse.” Everything went black.

(Y/N) woke up with her head pounding and her cheek aching. When she tried to move she felt a weight tighten around her waist. Blinking a few times, she looked down to see an arm wrapped around her and she followed it up to see Dean’s peaceful sleeping face. A dreadful feeling washing over her as she realized she was in nothing but a t-shirt of his.

“Five more minutes…” he mumbled as she tried to remove his arm from her.

She swallowed hard, “Uh… Dean, I think I should go to my room.” She whispered feeling him shake his head against her.

“Nope.” He muttered pulling her closer to him.

She rolled carefully over to face him as he slowly opened his eyes. Dean was the fiercest hunter in the world but also the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on. Her heart painfully started to ache the longer he held onto her.

“Dean, y-you’re just making this tougher for me and breaking my heart more.” She whispered looking down at his bare chest.

Gently he lifted her chin, “How am I breaking your heart?” he asked with a pure curiosity.

(Y/N) took in a shaky breath, “I know you don’t have feelings for me. Our one night together was nothing, but to me it… it was everything. It was everything I’ve ever been missing in my life and the fact that those feelings are not returned breaks my heart.”

Tears formed in her eyes as he stared at her silently. Her heart began to pound in her ears as he leaned in towards her, “D-Dean…” she said cautiously backing away.

“(Y/N), I’m not go at expressing myself with words. Please let me show you how I feel. Let me take away all this pain I’ve caused you.” He whispered before pressing his lips to hers.

She melted into his embrace as he rolled her over onto her back. He gently kissed her bruised cheek making his way down her neck. His rough hands drifting up her shirt as she lifted up for him to take off of her. “You’re so beautiful.” He murmured against her skin.

His warm mouth covering her nipple as his hand kneaded her other breast. She arched her back pressing them further into his touch. He switched making sure each one had equal attention from his mouth. (Y/N) ran her hand down his firm body slipping into his boxers and slowly stroking his hardening length.

“Oh… Dean.” She moaned as his fingers leisurely ran along her slick lips.

He was kissing under her ear uttering, “I missed your touch so much, sweetheart.”

“Dean!” she cried out as he slipped two fingers into her aching core.

Nothing he was doing was hurried. He pumped his fingers in and out at a steady pace building the pressure up deep within her. She was trying to keep pace with him stroking his thick cock. He would nip at her neck and push himself into her hand.

“(Y/N), I need you. I need to feel you all around me. Please sweetheart.” His eager beg had her nodding her head adamantly.

He withdrew his fingers making her whimper as he quickly pulled off his boxers before settling between her legs. She watched as his tongue darted out the corner of his lips in concentration as he aligned himself with her. His head rested against her shoulder as he groaned pushing slowly inside of her.

He was still as he panted against her neck, “This moment scared me when it happened a month ago. This feeling of being complete and happy terrified me.” Dean rolled his hips against her.

She gripped his shoulders tightly moaning as he continued to confess his feelings, “T-To feel this full and perfect with another person who is my best friend. The one person I care more about than even my own brother.”

His pace was picking up as he held her closer slipping his arms around her back. Suddenly, she was being lifted up as he sat back on his knees. Sitting her down, sinking deep within her. “Oh… god, Dean…” she called out.

“I’ve never wanted anyone else more than you. I don’t want to disappoint you or hurt you. But I knew I was in love with you in the moment and things could never be the same.” He was moving her along his shaft and she began meeting his thrusts.

“I love you, (Y/N). I was scared to ruin us so I ran, but not now. I need you so damn bad.” He was holding her so tightly laying her back down thrusting feverishly into her. “I just need you, right now. Need you…”

(Y/N) could feel he was close as she was too. The coil in her core ready to snap at any moment. His whole body was moving against hers creating a wonderful friction pushing her further to the edge. “D-Dean… need you please! Oh god, need you now!” she cried out coming hard.

He was snapping into her chasing his own release as she rode out the waves of her own orgasm. “Fuck, (Y/N)… FUCK!” he called out against her neck as his body trembled through his release. They were both panting as he lifted himself slightly pushing into her again making her whimper.

“I love you.” He said his eyes wide and vulnerable.

She pulled him down kissing him as he pulled out of her making her groan into his mouth, “I love you too, Dean.”

Two weeks later (Y/N) and Dean were out with a couple of her friends along with his brother, Sam at their usual bar. Her friends were gushing over how gorgeous Dean was and how jealous they were of her landing a boyfriend like him. She was grabbing another drink when she spotted the guy who roughed her up.

“Holy shit, Dean that’s the guy.” She said pointing over the man hitting on the woman at the other end of the bar.

Dean’s eyes narrowed, and he pulled out a wad of money handing it to the bartender, “Sorry you’ll need this later.” He said making his way down to the other end.

(Y/N) watched as he hauled back and punch the man in the face. “That is for hitting my woman.” Another punch landed in the man stomach, “That is for trying to force her to have sex.” Finally, blow came from his foot connecting with the man’s privates, “And that is so you will never hurt another woman again.”

Dean dragged him out of the bar tossing him out onto the sidewalk and walked back in with a crowd clapping for him. (Y/N) was standing with her hands on her hips trying to look mad, “Was that necessary?” she asked.

“Yes, yes it was, and you know what you love me even more for it.” He said with a cocky smirk on his face.  

She laughed throwing her arms around his neck, “You’re damn right I do.”

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[waywardnerd67]

Saving Me

Summary: (Y/N) has relapsed back into a dark place. As she makes one final decision fate steps in with a hero to save her.   Characters: Jensen Ackles, Reader Pairing: Jensen x Reader Warnings: Fluff/Angst/Mentions of depression, suicidal thoughts & plan, self-harm, wounds, scars Word Count: 1467 Squared Filled: Mistaken Identity (Fluff) A/N #1: @spnfluffbingo A/N #2: READ THE WARNINGS!!!! As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

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I ran my hand over the railing as I looked down at the dark water below. The city was truly beautiful at night. There was no better sight than the skyline of Austin shining against the midnight sky. I was truly unworthy of being in such an amazing city. Which is what brought me to the very bridge in the heart of the city.

For the first time in months, my arms and legs were free to be seen to the world. The scars of the pain I buried deep within me stood out against my skin. Looking down, I let my fingers gingerly touch new wounds that I had inflect just hours earlier. The pain I infected in order to feel something was no longer working pushing me ever so closer to finally making the decision I always knew I needed to make.

The cool night air stung my blistering skin as I looked over the railing again. In the dead of night there were little to no people walking the streets. A few homeless people were sitting down the street, but I knew they would not be quick enough. My mind was made up and now was the time to fall through on at least one thing in my life.

I crawled over the railing holding on with my hands I extended my arms out so I was could look straight out into what future. I was about to let go when an all too familiar voice sounded behind her. “Ma’am are you okay?”

I looked over my shoulder the sleeping pills I took starting to work their way throughout my body, “I’ll be fine. Please leave me be.” I said to him.

He was moving closer to me and I was beginning to lose my grip on the railing. “I can’t leave you. You need some help and I want to help you.”

Turning toward the man my hand slipped and my vision blurred just as he reached out grabbing me. He pulled me over the railing and into his strong arms. Looking, the last thing I saw was the face of the only man who she believed could save her.

“D-Dean Winchest-chester…” then everything went black.

I could not open my eyes, but I could hear voices next to me. My body felt heavy, too heavy to move. Both voices were male and familiar as I lied there listening to them speak.

“Dude, I get why you saved her. Do you really think it’s a great idea to stick around here? She may recognize you.” I could not quite place the man’s voice but the other man’s voice I knew clearly.

“I don’t know how to explain it. I’m drawn to her for some reason and it goes beyond saving her life. Something deep down is keeping me here so when she wakes up.” Wherever I was it must have been a dream or Heaven because that was the only Sam and Dean Winchester could be at her side.

I have no idea how long I kept coming in and out on consciousness but eventually my eyes opened to a bright light shining in the room I was in. I could hear beeping noises and looking over I saw wires hooked from me to machines. I could feel the darkness deep within me trying to flood my body as I realized I could not even follow through with ending my pain.

“Hey there, you’re awake.” The familiar voice came from at the end of my bed. Blinking a few times to clear my vision his face came into clear view.

“I did it, didn’t I? I’m dead and my heaven is Dean Winchester saving me.” I whispered my throat burning from being so dry.

He chuckled giving that famous Winchester smirk and handed me a cup with ice chips in it. Taking a few in my mouth I let them melt on my tongue coaxing my aching throat. Looking around the room, it seemed like a normal, real hospital room. I could not wrap my brain around Dean Winchester being at the end of my bed.

“I guess Dean kind of saved you. I’m not Dean but I do play him on TV.” He said dragging a chair over to the side of my bed.

My mind was reeling not only from Jensen Ackles sitting next to my bedside and saving me but the fact that it was all real. Disappointment overwhelmed my heart realizing that I was in fact still alive in the world. Tears sprung to my eyes as I turned to look away from the man I had admired for so many years.

“You saved me and shouldn’t have. This world is better without me in it. I’m just a waste of space.” I said as the tears fell down my cheeks.

I felt the edge of my bed dip down and a large hand covering mine. “I know I don’t know or what you have been through, but I can tell you this with all the certainty in the world. Your life matters. The world would not be a better place without you in and you’re not a waste of space. Even if you think no one cares about you, I want you to know that I do care about you.”

Looking over to him, I could see tears of his own shining over his beautiful mossy eyes. Hearing someone who I admired tell me that I was cared about and that my life mattered was too much for me to handle. I began sobbing, my whole body shaking. That is when Jensen, moved closer to me bringing me up into his arms holding me close. He sat there until I had finally cried all the tears I could.

Looking up at him, he wiped away the last few tears running down my cheeks with his thumbs. “I-I don’t know if I can get through this.” I said quietly looking down at my hands.

Jensen’s arms wrapped around me tighter as he rested his chin on top of her head, “You can get through this because you’re not alone in this. I will be there every step of the way.”

I looked up at him to see he genuinely meant what he was saying, but my mind would not let me believe fully that someone like Jensen Ackles would care about me. I simply nodded resting my head on his shoulder enjoying the little time I did have with my favorite actor.

Five Years Later

“We all know your wife is here and I was wondering is it true you met her by saving her life?” a fan asked Jensen during his solo panel in Rome.

He looked over to me silently asking if he could answer honestly which he already knew he could. I was open about my depression, self-harm and suicide attempt. That is when he came to the side of the stage holding his hand out to me. Never being able to say no to him, I took his hand as he led my up on stage. The fans were cheering as I sat on his chair and he stood next to me.

“Hun, do you want to answer this question?” he asked me handing the microphone over.

“Yes, Jensen really did save my life. Not only by catching me before I fell but more importantly he saved me by staying at my side throughout my treatment. He would visit me everyday while I was in treatment for depression. When I was released from treatment, Jensen helped me slowly get back in a routine and a sense of normalcy.” I paused looking up at him seeing he was smiling proudly at me.

Jensen took the microphone back, “Helping her was my main priority and the fact that I was falling for her was pushed on the back burner until I knew she was okay.”

I nodded, “It’s important when you are in that dark place that you know you’re not alone. That is why I have always been open with my mental health battles. I love that Jared and I can share with all of you what we have been through, our own struggles and coping skills we have learned along the way. We want every one of you to know that if you are battling darkness that we are there with you.”

Jensen leaned down kissing her cheek as the fans awed. I stood up returning his for one of his own. His hiatus beard tickling my lips as I pressed it against his cheek. “Ladies and gentlemen, the amazing (Y/N) Ackles!” he said as I waved and walked off stage to watch the rest of the panel of the man who saved my life.

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