#i have a whole series planned out for them

[jarofstyles]

Line Work

Hello my ducklings. We’ve got a hefty one shot for you- featuring nervous cutie pie Har, blunt and bold Y/N, a bee tattoo, someone definitely needing to sanitize their whole station, wasted baked goods and a good helping of spice 😋

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WC- 14.1k

Warnings- slight anxiety/people pleasing, tattooing, needles, switch! Y/N and H, mean Dom!Y/N, soft Dom!Har, choking, impact play, pain kink, slight humiliation and degradation, unprotected sex, cream pie

Harry was nervous, and it was silly. It wasn’t like he didn’t have tattoos… he had so many he could barely count them, actually. He liked the pain, probably more than he should, he wasn’t worried about regretting them, but the thing that had him a little anxious was the tattoo artist herself. 

Y/N, or Angel as she was known to most people in the tattooing scene, was intimidating. She was beautiful, so beautiful that it had him feeling like his tongue couldn’t form words. He’d fumbled through his consultation, getting stuck on looking at her black liner that seemed sharp enough to cut, the tattoos covering her exposed arms, the pout of her vampy red lined lips.. it had made him feel like an idiot when she had to ask questions a few times to get his attention.

The thing was, she hadn’t been mean! Not in the slightest. She was just… quiet. More reserved. To the point. She hadn’t fed into his small talk too much, really hadn’t asked him much about himself, kept it only to the tattoo… and maybe he was spoiled for it, but he really wanted her to like him! Sure she was his tattoo artist but they could be friends, couldn’t they? 

…So maybe he had a bit of a crush on her and it was distracting. Sue him! But he just… really wanted her attention. Was that so bad? 

On the day of his first tattoo appointment, he’d tried to be prepared. Doing all the things he’d normally do to prep (this wasn’t his first rodeo even if it felt like it), on top of getting her a few pastries from the coffee shop he’d gotten his drink from. As much of a suck up it probably made him seem to be, he really wanted to impress her, make her feel like he was a good client. Maybe someone worthy of talking to after the tattoo was finished.

The tattoo shop wasn’t exactly like the ones he was used to. It was lighter and brighter, pale green walls covered with neatly framed examples of flash or other tattoos she and the other artists at the studio had in their portfolios. It felt a little more like a zen massage studio than anything else and he knew it should relax him, but he felt the nerves in his throat like a lump, sitting there as he got it together to greet the woman.

Clearing his throat, he held out the pastry box, trying to sound casual despite his racing heart. "Hi! Um, I brought some pastries for you and the team. I hope you like them, I wasn’t sure what t’get so I kept it but free and the separate box is something gluten free." He looked at her expectantly, hoping she'll accept the gesture- not think he was fucking weird for it. "I just wanted to show my appreciation for your time today. I know y’must be really busy, and I know your time is valuable. It was really kind of you to squeeze me in on your off day." He trailed off, catching himself in the babbling.

Her eyes looked him over, then to the box. A pink box with a red ribbon bow tying it all together, some fancy cafe name on the top of it that matched the cup in his hand. The corners of her lips twitched as she took the box, nodding as she placed it on the desk. “Thanks. I like money.” That… hadn’t been the response he had been expecting but then again- Y/N wasn’t exactly predictable. “It’ll just be us today, the studio is empty otherwise.” 

His cheeks turned slightly pink. He'd assumed there'd be more people around. Being alone with her? No one to cut the tension? That hadn’t been a part of the plan either. "Of course," he stammered, running a hand through his hair, trying to fix it. It had definitely been a nervous habit he’d tried to cut but… it still popped up. "I didn't mean to assume..." He trailed off again, cursing himself for being so awkward. Trying to regain his composure, he glanced around the studio again, admiring her taste and the peaceful atmosphere. At least the zen vibe came in handy. "Your studio is really nice. Different from what I expected but... in a good way..."

“Thanks, I think.” She nodded, moving from behind the desk. “I’ve got to get the stencil printed now, but you can get comfortable on the bench if y’want.” Her hair swished behind her as she led him towards her station. “Think we’ll be doing outline today, shading when you come back. Is that something you can do?” Her eyes went over his arms. “You’ve done this enough times, probably know the drill by now.”

Harry nodded eagerly, falling into step beside her, almost tripping over his own feet in his efforts to catch up. "Yeah, absolutely. I've got loads of tattoos but it’s been a while since I’ve gotten one. I went through a phase where I got a ton in a three year span and figured I should chill out before I lost space later on." He tried to sound casual as he glanced at the various supplies laid out on her station, swallowing nervously. Even though he'd sat through plenty of tattoo sessions, the thought of her hands on him sent a little shiver down his spine. He didn’t know what his body was going to do. "So uh, how long have you been tattooing? If you don't mind me asking."

She took a moment to answer, back towards him as she sat at her laptop to send the design she’d drawn up to the printer. Tapping her nails against the counter, she let out a hum in her throat before turning to look at him over her shoulder. “Legally? 5 years.”

He blinked, surprised by her frank response. Finding her through a friend of a friend of a friend, he knew she was exclusive and a bit hard to get into, but he didn’t know much about her apparently. "Only 5 years? That's impressive, though. Your work is amazing." He quickly seated himself on the bench, trying to appear nonchalant despite the compliments bubbling out of him. His fingers drummed nervously on his thigh as he waited for her to finish setting up. "I bet you've seen a lot of weird requests in that time, huh?"

“Legally is the keyword here. I got a shitty tattoo gun online and practice skins when I was in school. Got good enough that I was fairly confident I wasn’t going to completely fuck up people’s skin and have them fight me, started doing them to make a couple bucks at parties.” She shrugged, standing up to go towards the printer, loading the stencil on. “I’ve done a lot of shit. You don’t really say no as an apprentice either, but now that m’taking my own clients I can be picky.”

His eyes widened slightly at her admission. To be fair, he hadn’t asked most of his artists how they’ve gotten started. They were super big talkers, but he felt that pull towards her and wanted to know little things. "You're self-taught? That's insane." He watched as she walked over to him with the stencil, his heart beating a little faster as she came closer. "That's... really cool." He bit his lip, trying to think of something else to say. Anything that wasn’t stupid or cliche- but came up empty. Cliche was better than stupid, he supposed. "So uh, what kind of requests do you usually turn down, if you don't mind me asking? Like... anything too offensive or just..."

“No hate speech or symbols, no neck or face tattoos for someone who’s not heavily inked, try to avoid hand tattoos because they come out like shit, and I prefer not to do the stereotypical shit.” She recited, laughing under her breath. “N’then there’s shit I just don’t like. Clocks, roses, lions. They aren’t bad, but I’ve got no interest in doing them.” She looked back over at him. “Bees are cool. I like tattooing insects. So I accepted your idea.”

A small smile played on his lips as he listened to her standards, appreciating how serious she took her craft. "I get that. I've seen some questionable clock and lion combinations." He chuckled nervously, adjusting himself on the bench as she moved closer with the transfer paper. " I really love bees. We used t’keep them in my backyard growing up." His shirt was already rolled up to expose his upper arm where the design would go. "Although... I have to say I'm happy you don't want to do cliche designs. My last... well, my last girlfriend, she wanted me to get one of those heart and dagger tattoos." He felt his cheeks flush at the admission, wishing he hadn't brought up an ex around her. "Not really my style anymore. I like having... meaningful stuff on my skin, you know? Stuff that actually represents me. I went through the phase of getting random shit for the hell of it. I don’t regret them but they definitely aren’t my favorite. Wanted to be more intentional. Get stuff I really love, or stuff that represents that." He paused before adding quietly, "Like bees. For my mum."

Her smile was ever so lightly on the corner of her lips as she nodded, brushing the hair out of her face. “Good. Don’t get shitty tattoos for demanding girlfriends. Cardinal rule. Shit doesn’t turn out well.” Her hand gripped his muscular arm, turning it slightly to get a view of the gap where he had said he wanted the tattoo. “Alright. Any placement changes, or is here still good?”

"Yeah, that spot is perfect..." His voice trailed off as he watched her face, those dark eyes and lips distracting him from anything else. Probably not the smartest idea but it felt like a privilege to be up close like this.

“Alright. Once it’s on you’re going to stand up and take a look in the mirror. if you want to move it, even if it’s just an angle- tell me.” Her face was serious as she put on her gloves, prepping the skin for the stencil. “Don’t people please. It’s on your body forever, not mine. We can take it off and put it back on again when it’s just a stencil, not when I use the needles.” With a careful hand she used the pink disposable razor over the skin, clearing it completely and wiping it yet again before centering the image. She was precise, making sure it was where she deemed fit before placing it down, running her hand over the sheet to pat it into the skin.

Harry nodded obediently, trying to be still under her touch. "I trust you." He caught himself, realizing how weird that might sound, and cleared his throat. "I mean, I trust your expertise. Obviously." When she was finished with the stencil, he glanced up at her nervously. "Want me to look in the mirror now?"

“Yep.” Her attention was already on cleaning up the station a bit as he stood up, walking towards the full length mirror she had mounted on the wall. Giving him a few moments to see if he liked the placement, she turned back to see him flex slightly to watch how the ink moved with the muscle. Y/N was professional, but she wasn’t blind. Harry was a very good looking man, and the tattoo would suit him well. “Good?”

"It looks perfect." He met her gaze in the mirror, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "You've got a great eye. S’exactly where I want." He turned back to her, hoping he didn't look too eager. "I can't wait to see how it turns out. It looks amazing just on here like this…." His fingers unconsciously traced the edges of the stencil, imagining the bee buzzing to life on his skin under her skilled hands. "So uh, how long until we start? I can try to relax. I don’t want to be in the way."

“You can sit down on the bench and drink your coffee if you’d like. I just need to get the prep started, wash my hands and change gloves.” Said hands made work of it, methodically taking out her supplies, lining up the needles and ink pot she had filled. “You know how it goes, I assume you don’t need the whole speech about how it’ll feel and all that.” Considering how inked he was, she was a bit confused at his questions so far, but she did tattoo some odd clients so it wasn’t anything too off putting. He was cute, in a way. Like an overly excited puppy at a training class. Nervous but eager.

He nodded, a light blush on his cheeks as he realized he was probably asking too many questions out of nerves rather than genuine curiosity. "Right, of course. I'll just relax and enjoy my tea then." He settled back onto the bench, trying to appear calm as he took a sip from his cup. The taste was smoothing, a stark contrast to the jittery feeling in his stomach. 

As hard as he tried not to stare, the way she moved captivating him. Her dark clothes, black liner, and the tattoos peeking out from under her tank top only added to her allure. Even the sterile smell of the shop couldn't mask her own subtle scent - something sweet with a little spice- that made him more excited for her close contact while she tattooed so he could figure it out. He took another sip of his tea, hoping the slight caffeine would calm his nerves, but he suspected the real cause of his excitement was seated right in front of him.

He really did want her to like him, wanted her to think he was a decent client, someone she could tolerate chatting with during breaks. Maybe even someone she'd consider going out with. The thought sent a thrill through him, but he pushed it aside, focusing on his coffee instead. The last thing he wanted to be was one of those guys, but it was hard to ignore her. As he sat there, he found his eyes drifting back to Angel, studying her from under his lashes. He wrinkle in her brow in concentration, the way her hair fell in loose waves down her back, even with it pulled into a ponytail... 

Fuck, he was in trouble.

“I’m going to go wash my hands but did you want t’use the bathroom or anything before we start?” She slipped her gloves off and stretched her arms above her head, trying to loosen her body up before she was hunched over tattooing. It was most definitely, 100% going to cause her issues one day- but at least she loved her job. Rather a creaking back over a creaking soul, her grandmother told her.

"No, m’good thanks." He nodded a bit too eagerly, trying not to stare at how her stretch made her tank top rise slightly, catching the piercing in her belly button. It was far more attractive than he could have imagined. Did he have a thing for piercings? Maybe it was just her.. Clearing his throat, he forced his eyes to meet hers instead of taking advantage of her casual pose. "Should I, uh... where do you want my arm? Positioned I mean. I want to make it as easy as I can." The nerves were making him babble again, but he couldn't help it. Her presence just did something to him. He knew he could get a little sappy over people he had crushes on but this was a whole other story.

“I’ve got the attachment for the bench. Give me a second.” Rolling it over from where she had it parked and prepped, wrapped in Saran Wrap, she placed it next to him and took his arm with her now bare hands to adjust it. “This is how I’m going to have you sitting, so figure out how you’d like yourself situated. I’ll be right back.”

Nodding dumbly, he watched her walk away, admiring the sway of her hips before forcing his gaze elsewhere. Get a grip, he chided himself silently as he settled onto the bench attachment, positioning himself as comfortably as he could. Why did he like when she ordered him around so much? He tried to focus on something other than her, like the sound of the water turning on in the restroom, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the feel of her hands on him.

Harry fidgeted slightly as he waited, adjusting his position again, trying to find the perfect angle. He couldn't shake the fluttering feeling in his chest, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through him. He knew he was being pathetic about the whole thing, but that didn’t stop him from being that way. When Angel returned, her hands freshly washed and gloved once more, he offered her a slightly strained smile. "Ready when you are."

As she prepared to start the process, Harry found himself holding his breath. He could feel her hands on his arm, the gentle pressure as she adjusted his position, and he wanted more of that. Any kind of touch.. When she finally picked up the needle, he let out a slow exhale, watching as she began to work. There was no warning as she started, correctly assuming he didn’t need to be babied over it and given a countdown. At least she thought he was capable of that.  The sound of the needle moving across his skin was almost hypnotic, and he found himself relaxing into the process, his eyes drifting closed as he let Angel's skilled hands take over.

The pain of the tattoo needle was sharp, nothing he wasn't used to. Nothing he didn’t… enjoy. But the real reason he was enjoying this experience so much was the feeling of Angel's touch, the focus and concentration evident on her face as she worked. He couldn't help but sneak glances at her, admiring the way her face looked as she was set in concentration, the way her lips pressed together in a soft pout as she blew a loose strand of hair from her eyes. Fuck, she was pretty when she was working. She had to be pretty all the time.

Harry bit his lip, trying to keep quiet as he sat there. It wasn't easy, especially when the needle kept sending zings of pleasured pain through his body. It wasn’t like it didn’t hurt- it absolutely did. But he had always found himself to like it. Pain was welcome to him. Not many understood. The focus now was on staying as still as he could. The last thing he wanted to do was be annoying or break her concentration. So he just sat there, breathing slowly and trying to relax into the process. Occasionally he'd let out a soft hum or clear his throat if she hit a particularly sensitive area, but he kept his voice low and tried not to draw attention to himself.

After a few minutes of silence, her voice surprisingly broke it first. “I hear feel you thinking.” She laughed under her breath, wiping away at excess ink before peering up at him momentarily. “You alright?”

Harry's eyes snapped open at her comment, his cheeks flushing slightly- again- as he realized she probably heard him making little noises the whole time. "Yeah, I'm fine," he muttered, trying to sound nonchalant despite the heat in his cheeks. He glanced down at his arm, watching as the bee began to take shape. "Just a little sensitive in a few spots, that's all." He hoped that was enough of an explanation to satisfy her curiosity.

 It was impossible to be truly honest with her. Harry liked the pain. He couldn’t tell her that it was arousing to feel the needle more than it hurt. 

The sharp drag of it over his skin, the pain mingling with something else entirely - a warm, tingly sensation that spread through his core every time it hit a particularly sensitive spot. It was fucked up, he knew it was, but he couldn't deny the way his heart raced or the way his stomach clenched each time she pressed down harder. 

He was getting hard, he was getting fucking hard from a goddamn tattoo and he couldn't tell her that, could he?

The feeling was wrong, so fucking wrong. He was supposed to be getting a tattoo, not getting turned on. But every press of the needle, every gentle drag across his skin, sent a jolt of pleasure through him. He shifted uncomfortably on the bench, trying to adjust himself discreetly, praying she wouldn't notice the growing bulge in his jeans. Fuck, no. No, no, no. There was no way this was going to happen. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep his breathing even, to not make a sound that would give him away.

It was humiliating, absolutely embarrassing that his cock was twitching to life under Angel's hands. He'd always had a thing for pain, got off on it in ways he wasn't proud of, but Jesus Christ, this was a new low. An artist this pretty, this intimidating, tattooing him? It was like every fucked up kink of his was colliding.

He closed his eyes tightly, trying desperately to think of anything else. Baseball stats, grocery lists, his grandmother, global warming and its dire acceleration —anything to distract himself from the growing throb in his jeans. But every pass of the needle, every soft exhale from Angel against his already sensitive skin sent another jolt straight to his dick. It was useless. The more he tried not to think about it, the harder he got. He was screwed. Quite literally, it seemed.

He bit the inside of his cheek hard, fighting back a groan as the needle traced a particularly sensitive line. Hell, even the way she'd occasionally wipe away ink with her gloved hands was making him crazy. It was like a teenager again getting hard at nothing. A light sheen of sweat formed at his temples, despite the cool air conditioning in the shop. It wasn’t hot, but he certainly was..

Angel took notice, as much as he hoped she wouldn’t. “Harry, you look a little sick.” Her voice turned slightly concerned as she paused, taking her foot off the pedal. “Do you need a minute or something? Don’t keep quiet about this shit. If you’re going to get sick I’d rather you do it in a trash can or something.”

He blinked rapidly, trying to come up with a proper excuse. It was difficult considering his dick was starting to hurt now from being so hard for so long- it held all the blood, apparently. Licking his lips nervously, he tried for a reassuring smile that he knew probably looked more like a grimace. "Nah, I'm alright. Just... a bit overheated, I think." He shifted again uncomfortably, praying she'd buy the excuse. "Can we keep going? Really don't wanna waste your time." Lie.

Her darkly lined eyes narrowed at his blatant lie, giving him a raised eyebrow as she adjusted herself on the rolling stool. It wasn’t often that a client looked sick and didn’t just admit it after she pressed. “It’s not a waste of time. You’re my only client today. If you need a breather you can take it. I’ll go out for a smoke or something.”

Harry was a shit liar- he could feel the beads of sweat forming on his upper lip. He didn't want a breather, not even a second of not feeling her hands, not even a moment of not smelling her perfume even if it made him feel insane. He was a masochist, plain and simple, sitting there getting tattooed while his body ached with unwanted arousal. Not only that, but he really didn’t want to chance her truly figuring it out. He would be mortified. "No really, I'm fine," he insisted, his voice coming out hoarser than intended. "Let's just keep going, okay?"

Angel's expression darkened, a hint of irritation mixing with her concern as she watched him squirm on the bench, looking flushed and sweaty. She knew that he was lying through his teeth. "You look like you're about to pass out," she snapped, her tone laced with a hint of her natural impatience. "I'm not gonna have you faint or vomit on the bench and waste a whole day because you're too stubborn to take a break. So tell me what’s wrong.”

His eyes flickered nervously as he avoided her gaze, swallowing hard past the lump in his throat. He knew if he told her the truth, she'd think he was a freak. Who gets turned on by getting tattooed, for God's sake? He was trapped in a cycle of lying and sweating, his mind racing with how to explain his strange behavior without sounding like a pervert. "It's just... the pain."

“Is it too much for you?” Her face lightened, looking over his arm. “You have a ton of ink. Is it like this for you every time?” Obviously that was something she could understand, to a degree. She had tattoos in places that really hurt, but the placement shouldn’t be too painful. And considering her casual perusal of his Instagram after their consultation, he had a sternum piece. This should be nothing compared to that. 

"No, no, it's not too much pain," he sputtered quickly, waving a hand to brush off her concern. "I mean, yeah, I've got a lot of ink but that's not... I'm used to it." He shifted uncomfortably again, realizing this wasn't getting any easier. His cock throbbed insistently against his zipper, reminding him of his embarrassing predicament. "It's just... really hot in here, isn't it?" he tried weakly.

She leaned up, gripping his chin with her gloved hand. “Are you on something?” The words were low and frankly, pissed off. That was one of the things in her waivers that she had him sign and she’d told him that when they first talked. “I don’t judge people for taking shit but if you’re high when I told you not to take anything before you came to the appointment I’m going to be pissed. I don’t work with people off their ass in my station.”

He felt his heart stutter at her touch, her dark eyes boring into his with genuine worry - and something else. Something almost intense, almost aggressive. Fuck, she was so close. "No, I'm not on anything!" he said urgently, meeting her gaze. "I swear." His breath caught slightly in his throat, realizing how she could easily mistake his flushed state and strange behavior. "It's... the heat, really." Another fucking lie. His cock throbbed again, seemingly mocking him.

Y/N didn’t buy it. Not when he looked so nervous. He was either high, or sick, or… Her eyes looked over his body, trying to find any tells, any obvious signs of discomfort- and it didn’t take long to find it.

 He was hard. She could see the sizable bulge, making her manicured eyebrow raise again, looking back to his face.

He was busted. Completely and utterly found out. He could see the question forming on her lips, the way her dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. He was screwed. "Angel-" he started, trying to think of any explanation that wouldn't make him sound like a pervert.

“You could have just said you’ve got a thing for pain.” Releasing his chin, she shook her head and moved across her station to get on new gloves- no chancing any contamination. “Stressing us both out for no reason. I like direct communication. Don’t bullshit me anymore. I can handle a bodily reaction.”

Harry stared at her, mouth agape, a bit floored by her bluntness. She just... called him out, no judgment, no disgust, just straightforward honesty. It was the hottest thing he'd ever fucking witnessed. "Shit," he breathed, slumping back onto the bench. "Okay, yeah. I do have a thing for pain." No point in denying it now. "But not like, fucking weird pain," he added quickly. "Just... the endorphins, I guess?"

“I get it. I like it too. It’s fine, I’m not judging you. You haven’t been a creep or anything. Besides.” Placing the new gloves down on her station, she tapped her fingers over his cheek a few times. “You’re not the first to get hard on this bench. At least you’re cute.” Like she hadn’t said anything she moved her hand away.

Cute? He was cute? It was an one off compliment and yet his mind was spinning. Pathetic, his need for praise- How much he liked knowing he was attractive. She wasn't judging him, she understood his thing for pain, and she thought he was cute. He felt like he was dreaming, like this was some kind of bizarre, albeit wonderful hallucination. He watched, entranced, as she put her gloves back on and reached for the needle again. "So... you're used to this?" he asked quietly, his voice shaking slightly.

“Somewhat. It isn’t the most common reaction, but it’s something that happens. You haven’t been making weird comments or very obviously leering at me, which gets people kicked out. I understand why you lied. You didn’t want me to be uncomfortable. But you don’t have to be embarrassed. I can tell you are.” She shrugged her shoulder, picking up her gun with her freshly gloved hand. “You get hard at all your appointments? Or is it just me?”

His face burned with embarrassment, but at the same time, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. She wasn't disgusted, she wasn't judging him harshly - she was actually understanding, even a little amused. He swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. "It's... not just you," he admitted quietly, feeling his heart trying to find its way down and out of his throat. "But you're the first artist I've told. M’usually better at hiding it."

“Yeah?” Pressing the needle back to the stencil, she watched as his eyelids lulled, a slight wince but a dash of what she now knew had to be arousal washing over his face. “Hm… That alright with you?”

Nodding slowly, his eyes fluttered closed as the needle resumed its work. It was alright, more than alright. It was fucking incredible. He felt so relieved, so understood. If it was possible, his crush on her grew tenfold. "Yeah, that's alright," he murmured, his voice deeper than it had been before. There was no hiding the effect it was having on him- and she had said he didn’t have to. "Really alright."

As the tattoo progressed, Harry found himself sinking deeper into a state of blissful discomfort. The needle continued its path on his skin, each pass sending a jolt of pleasured pain straight to his core. He could smell her perfume with every lean- which he was fairly certain was vanilla with sandalwood, maybe a bit of tobacco since she had mentioned taking a smoke- could feel the heat radiating from her body as she worked intently. It was overwhelming in the best way possible.

He squirmed a little bit, making her pause. “Stop moving, yeah? Be a good boy.” It was teasing, really, but she saw the look on his face. Harry liked it. 

Harry froze, his breath hitching in his throat at her words. "A good boy," he echoed softly, his voice filled with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. He felt his face flush an even deeper shade of red as he held still, trying not to squirm. Was she flirting with him? Or was his horny brain just hearing things he wanted to hear? Either way, the command had his dick throbbing in his jeans. “Uh- okay. I can.. do that.” 

Continuing the tattoo, all she could notice was that he was stiff- squirmy. She could tell he was trying his absolute best not to move, but he wanted to and it was distracting. Ten minutes passed, the outline almost done, and she really couldn’t keep up with this. She needed him to be relaxed, still, and calm… and not so distracting to her. Harry was cute. Really, utterly adorable. Hot in the way she liked but in demeanor he was nervous and twitchy. So cute… That she was going to do something about it.

 “Alright.” Turning the machine off again, she crossed her arms. “You’re too stiff. We’re almost done with the tattoo… but I need you to relax.” Moving a hand, she rest it on his knee and curled her fingers around it. “I don’t do shit like this, but you’re cute. Let’s get you off so you can chill the fuck out.”

Harry's eyes widened in shock, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest as she spoke to him in such a matter of fact way. Did she really just... offer to get him off? Right here in the tattoo shop? Or was this a wet dream?  He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. "You uh, you don't have to-" he started weakly, but even as he said it, his body betrayed him, a visible shudder running through him at her touch as soon as she moved.

“You can say no.” She trailed her finger up his thigh. “We don’t have to do anything. But you’re trying to be good, and you can’t help that all you can probably think about is that cock. Whatever you’re gonna do to it after. Stroke it, go find someone to suck it off. Kinda makes me jealous, if I’m honest.” It looked big. That’s something she wanted. She was so tired of mediocre, selfish lays and if anything, it seemed like Harry was the type more than eager to please her. “So if you don’t want me to touch you, I can stop…”

"Fuck," he hissed, his hips lifting slightly at her words, completely failing at maintaining his cool facade. How was he supposed to think straight when she was saying shit like that? Her hand on his thigh was making his head fuzzy, his cock throbbing painfully in his jeans. "No, don't stop," he breathed out, voice trembling. 

“There we go. Finally being honest with me.” She hummed, her other hand stroking over his cheek. “So sweet.” Tapping over his nose, her hands retreated to take the gloves off completely. “Alright, off with your belt then. Let yourself out.”

He stared at her for a long moment, speechless. Something about how blunt she was, how she ordered him around.. it was something he hadn’t experienced much of before, but he had always wanted to try. Never had he imagined it would be today, with his tattoo artist that made him incredibly intimidated and eager to please but he supposed that’s what made it so good. 

Swallowing hard, he reached for his belt, unbuckling it with shaking hands before unlatching his jeans. He hesitated, looking up at her, a faint blush on his cheeks. "Like, all the way?" he asked hoarsely. God, he felt like a fucking teenager again. Nervous and excited and completely out of his depth. "And you're really just gonna...?"

“All the way. Yes, I’m going to touch it.” She discarded the gloves and pushed the tray table to the side- ink was a pain to clean up. “Don’t be afraid. As cute as being shy is, I have a feeling you’re really a needy little thing. Let me see your cock, sweetheart.”

His breath hitched at her words, his face burning with a deep, flush. Christ, she was so blunt, so fucking direct, something he had never dealt with in a woman before… And he ate it up, loving every second of it. With a shaking hand, he slowly pushed his jeans and boxers down, his hard, thick cock springing free. He was big, really fucking big, and the head was already leaking precome. "Fuck," he muttered, looking up at her with wide eyes, suddenly feeling self-conscious about his size.

His cock was long and thick, proportional to his tall frame. The veins were prominent, the head swollen and dark pink, almost painful from how worked up he’d gotten. Precum leaked steadily from the slit, making him a little embarrassed. He knew she’d be able to see just how fucked up he’d gotten from it all. The base was thick, the root of his cock visible under his neatly groomed pubic hair as it pulsed rhythmically, betraying how horny he actually was. 

As Angel wrapped her hand around him, she could feel how much bigger he was than most men she'd encountered. The velvety soft skin was hot under her touch. She couldn't help but run her thumb over the shiny, leaking tip, spreading the bead of precum around the swollen slit. "My god, you are a big boy, aren’t you?” She murmured in a honeyed tone. “Such a pretty cock, Harry. It was aching this whole time?”

Her hand felt like heaven wrapped around him. The most welcome damn relief he’s ever felt. Biting his lip to stifle a moan, he watched as she spread the precome around his tip, the sensitive cock jumping at the contact. "Fuck, yeah," he panted, his hips shifting. "It’s been hard the whole time. I-I didn’t wanna move and fuck up the linework or anything..." He trailed off, watching her touch him with wide, dilated eyes.

“How sweet. You knew I’d be pissed if you messed up my work.” She cooed. “You‘ve been a mess this whole time, though. Is it because you think I’m pretty, Harry?” She tilted her head to the side as she leaned over, pursing her lips and letting a trail of spit dribble down to his cock. Hand spreading it around him, she wanted an answer. “Hm?”

"Shit," he cursed softly under his breath as the spit slid down his length, her hand moving expertly to spread it around. He nodded quickly, his face flush with embarrassment but his eyes dark with desire. He knew he was kinda into it, kind of liked a bit of humiliation but actively getting it made him feel crazy in the best way. "Yes," he breathed out, totally caught. "I mean, look at you..." He swallowed hard, watching how perfectly her long fingers circled his shaft. "The tattooing, the... the perfume, those fucking lips... god, your whole vibe, you're..." He trailed off, face burning. "Killer."

“Killer, huh?” That got a laugh out of her. “That’s so funny. Big, bad, tattooed Harry… intimidated by me. Got all that muscle, all that money, and all it takes to get you to fold is a pretty woman and some pain?”

"Shut up," he muttered, trying to look stern but failing miserably. His cheeks were on fire, his heart racing in his chest as she laughed at him. But fuck, it was a good laugh, and the way her eyes lit up only made him melt more. "I'm not intimidated," he insisted, but his voice wavered. "I just... appreciate beauty when I see it, okay? And you're fucking stunning.”

“Oh, sweet little baby…” She cooed, squishing his cheeks with her free hand, making his lips pucker. “Better watch the way you talk to me, m’kay? I could make you cum like this…” She squeezed around him, twisting her hand as she stroked his cock. “I could let you fuck me. Bend me over the bench, or get on top of you. I could suck you off, or…” She took her hand away, letting his sticky cock fall back against his stomach. “I could stop. I’m in charge here.”

His cheeks burned at her words, her voice like honey and venom, sweet and dangerous to his well being. She may as well kill him. "Fuck." He panted out, watching her hand leave his dick. It throbbed, aching for her touch again. He knew the game, knew when someone had the power. Angel fucking had all the power right now. "You're a bully," he muttered, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably. "What do you want?" He swallowed hard, eyes flicking between hers and her hand.

“I want you to be nice to me. Where’s my sweet boy gone?” A faux pout painted her lips. “You’re acting like a spoiled brat. Took time away to try and make you feel good and you’re calling me a bully…” Shaking her head, she curled her fingers around the hem of  her tank top, pulling over her head to expose her tits. “You could touch them, if my nice boy came back. But you’re being mean to me.”

His voice caught in his throat as she pulled off her top, revealing her breasts, nipples hard and perfect and… when had he ever been shocked into stupidity? Was this a new record?. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "M’not being mean!” He tried to save, but his voice was hoarse, his eyes glued to her chest. He could practically hear his mom lecturing him, about disrespecting women, about using sweet words and gentle touches. And goddammit, he was gonna lose his hard-on if he kept thinking about that. 

“No?” Holding her tits in her hands, she lightly pinched her nipples between her fingers. “You’re ready to be nice t’me?”

"Yeah," he said quickly, sitting up properly and moving so she stood between his spread thighs. As her hands dropped from her chest, she stepped further between his legs and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to take her breasts in his hands, gently squeezing them. Fuck, they were perfect. So soft and warm, the nipples hard under his thumbs. “M’sorry," he murmured, looking up at her with wide, apologetic eyes. "I'll be nice. I'll be your sweet boy." He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. "Please touch me again, Angel." He begged softly. 

His lips moved lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone and down to her sternum. He worshipped her chest with his mouth as he kissed and licked down to her tits, overwhelmed with opportunity. Lick, suck, bite, leave marks? Harry wanted to do it all. “I’ll be so good f’you, beautiful. I promise.” He wrapped his lips around one hard nipple, swirling his tongue around it before sucking gently. His hands stayed on her tits, palming and squeezing them together as he moved between them, giving attention to both. A big supporter of equal loving, he was.

He moaned softly as her hand pressed his face harder against her chest, the soft flesh yielding under his mouth.  Opening his mouth wider, he took as much of her breast as he could fit, sucking and nibbling gently over the sensitive buds. His hand slid around to her back, pulling her closer almost desperately. More. He needed more. "Fuck," he mumbled against her nipple, the word muffled. "Perfect fucking tits."

“Tell me how beautiful I am.” She requested softly, pulling his mouth from her nipple with a handful of his pretty hair. “If you were so distracted by me before… You should have no problem doing that.”

"You're so fucking beautiful, Angel," he said without hesitation, his voice filled with genuine awe. "Like, breathtakingly beautiful. Those tits, that face, that fucking body..." He trailed off, shaking his head in wonder. "I don't know how you do it, but you're just... stunning." He reached up to touch her face, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. "You're perfect. Please, let me kiss you," he begged, his eyes pleading with hers. "Just one real kiss, Angel. I need t’taste you, to feel your lips against mine."

 He leaned forward, his hands settling on her hips as he looked up at her with the clearest depiction of desperation she had ever seen. "I'll be your sweetheart, your good boy, just please... let me kiss you." He pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to her chin, hoping to wear her down. "Pretty please, beautiful."

“How cute.”’She cooed, tracing over his bottom lip. It was amusing to get men on their knees, to hear them plead and beg for her, but especially when said men looked like Harry. Buff and inked and otherwise looking like he’d be a complete dickhead she’d find at the gym, but so sweet just from his own desires. “Alright. Go ahead, since you asked so nicely.”

As soon as her fingers left his lip, he surged up to capture her mouth in a soft, gentle kiss. Trying his best to be gentle and sweet despite the overwhelming urge to devour her, it was harder to control himself than he’d ever remembered. He kept his hands on her hips, not daring to pull her closer or wrap his arms around her like he desperately wanted to. Breaking the kiss after a moment, he panted softly as he pulled back. "More? Can I have another?" He looked up at her with puppy eyes, already addicted to the taste of her lips.

The softness of it had surprised her, fully expecting him to be completely lost in it. If she was truthful, it only made her feel a little more fond of the man as he asked for another one, pleading almost with the luck he wanted to have. “You really are a sweet little puppy, aren’t you?” She murmured, stroking over his hair. “Want to keep kissing me that badly?”

"Yes, please," Nodding eagerly, he pleaded for it like he hadn’t before. "I want t’kiss you all day, Angel. I'll do anything, just let me keep kissing you." He rested his forehead against hers, clutching at her to keep as close as she allowed. "You taste so good, smell so good... I just can't get enough of you." He opened his eyes again, looking up at her with pure need. It was intoxicating for her, considering she hadn’t met anyone this down bad in her life. The power of it went straight to her cunt, giving her that telltale second heartbeat. 

"Yes, thank you." the words were cut off, already pressing his lips to hers again as soon as she nodded in the most respectful kiss he could manage. This time, he pulled her a little closer, one hand sliding up her back while the other cupped her jaw gently, letting his fingers curl around and hold her where he wanted her- just testing it out. His tongue barely ventured out, just a hint of it ghosting over her bottom lip as he explored her mouth cautiously. Every kiss felt like a privilege, a gift. "You," he broke away just long enough to speak, "shouldn't be this perfect."

“But I am.” She hummed against his mouth, leaning into him as she allowed his hands to hold her. It was strange to feel a possessive hold on her body and yet see such a needy look on a man’s face. The juxtaposition of it all. 

"Your lips are perfect," he mumbled against them, stealing another deep kiss. "So soft, so full..." He pulled back slightly to look at her face, "Your eyes are gorgeous, your nose is perfect, your jaw..." Cupping her jaw again, he angled it where he wanted it. "It's so pretty. Like you’re art, carved from marble or somethin’. I can’t even think straight.” It was hard to when she felt as good as she did. “Your neck." He leaned down to kiss her throat softly, "So smooth. Jus’ want t’bite."

She loved being worshipped, was the thing- And Harry was giving her the taste that she had wanted, completely submitting to her agenda without realizing he was filling the gap she had always wanted filled. It was precisely what she wanted actually, exactly what she needed, and the slight crazed look in his eyes had her cunt hot. “Mm… Thank you, good boy.” Gently running her fingers over his scalp, she felt his teeth graze her skin. “You getting mouthy, Puppy? Trying to bite?”

"Maybe..." he murmured, his teeth grazing her neck again as he tried to suppress a grin. He could feel her pulse quickening under his lips, taste the salt on her skin. His hands tightened slightly on her hips, thumbs rubbing small circles as he tried to restrain himself from outright biting her. "Is that a bad thing? Wanting to taste more of you?" His voice, low and husky, hinted at his building need, his cock twitching against his stomach. There was no hiding how affected he was by her.

“Not at all. Just didn’t know you liked to nibble on people, is all.” She took a handful of his hair, tugging him back with a heavy hand. “I like pain just as much as you do, seeing how much your cock is jumping just from a little tug of the hair. But you don’t have the right to bite me yet, so you have to wait.” Leaning down, she grabbed his cock back in her hand and spit over it again, stroking slow and tight.

Harry groaned, his head falling back as she tugged on his hair again and spoke in that stern, commanding tone that had him putty in her hands. "God you don’t even…. You don’t know what you’re doin’ to me." His cock jumped in her hand, the spit making it slick and easy for her to stroke. He felt a droplet of precum leak out, and he whimpered, his hips bucking slightly into her hand. "Please," he begged, his voice breaking. "Jus’ wanna… Want to make you feel good, too.’

She smirked down at him, her eyes glinting with amusement and a hint of something darker. "Is that so?" she said, her voice low and sultry. She continued to stroke him slowly, her thumb swirling around the head of his cock, spreading the spit and precum around. Messy and sticky, just how she liked it. "And how, exactly, do you plan on making me feel good, hmm?" She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "With that big, thick cock of yours? Do you know how to use it properly?"

His entire body shivered at her whisper, his cock throbbing aggressively in her grip. "Yes," he managed to choke out, every ounce of control slipping away. "Would you let me?" He looked up at her with pleading eyes, a hint of vulnerability. "You're... god, you're making me crazy." His hips bucked into her hand again, desperate for more, more, more. Greediness was overwhelming. "Want to feel those perfect tits against me while I fuck you deep," he breathed, his eyes dark with the ever building lust. "Want to watch your gorgeous face while you cum on my cock. Feel your pussy clench around me, squeezing me so fucking tight, cause I know it will." His words were coming faster now, his restraint slipping. "Been hard imagining pounding into you all goddamn tattoo session. Want to pinch those perfect nipples while I do it, make you cry out-" He stopped abruptly, realizing he was rambling shamelessly. The mixture of his dominate side peeking out with the submissive. A true switch problem, feeling them both rearing their heads.

“Oh no, don’t stop on my account.” She laughed in disbelief. “You’re showing just how filthy you’re gonna be. Thinking about fucking me this whole time? Getting a needle in your skin but you’re thinking about my pussy?” It was filthy, it was dirty, but he had the privilege. She was attracted to him unlike most people, and that awarded him the right. “Keep going then, tell me what you want.”

"Jesus, you really do love hearing me say this shit, don't you?" He asked, a hint of a desperate smile pulling at his lips. Reaching up to cup her breast with one hand, he plucked her nipple lightly between his fingers. "Want me to tell you how I'd fuck you so slow at first, let you feel every inch, but then pound the hell out of that perfect pussy when you beg for it?" His tone was stronger, less nervous as he spoke to her about his hidden desire. She’d been blunt with him, so he was only awarding her the same. 

"And when you're about to cum," he continued, his voice dropping lower, rougher, "I might just flip us over. Pin your wrists down and ride you hard enough to make those pretty tits bounce. Would you like that? Me being rough while I fuck you?" He squeezed her nipple harder, testing her reaction. The pretty noise she let out from the pinch let him know what he needed to know. She was just as much for it as he was. "Do you want a sweetheart who makes love to you slow, or a man who makes you scream?" His cock jerked in her hand, betraying his desire for either outcome.

“Think I want to be fucked hard. I haven’t screamed in quite a while. No one is able to do it.” The smirk on her face said it all, wanting to see just what he was capable of. How his voice had switched from nervous to confident, showing two very different sides of him? She had no idea. All she knew was she liked it. The duality of a man.

His expression morphed from pleading to predatory in an instant, his eyes glinting with a dark light. "You wanna be manhandled, then?" He purred, his hand sliding down from her breast to her hip, his fingers digging in as he took charge. “Alright then.” Standing up, he took initiative without another word- flipping her stance, pushing her over the bench and letting that perfect ass perch up in the air.

Harry was quick with it, calculated. Gripping her waistband in his fingers and tugging it down, exposing her bare body to him. No panties, nothing. Son of a bitch. She’d been sitting there with nothing on under the thin leggings this whole time? Unable to help himself, his hand came down on the soft flesh with a sharp smack to make his palm burn momentarily."Fuck, this ass, baby." he groaned, barely giving her a moment to realize what was happening before he slapped her ass again, harder this time. He admired the handprint appearing on her skin, wanting it to stay on there the entire night. It just looked too good to fade away.

Running his hand over the curve of her, he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "You wanted rough, beautiful. Hope you can handle it." His other hand slid around to her front, directly cupping her pussy. "Already fucking soaked, aren't you?"

“Of course I am.” She laughed breathlessly. “You’re being sweet and then tossing me around. Smacking my ass. Did you expect me to not react?” Turning her head back towards him, she gave him a little attitude. “Do something about it.”

"Such a fucking brat, even after you call me one." he muttered, grinning despite himself. His fingers slipped up and down her cunt, letting out a grunt as he found that how soaked she actually was. Filthy wet, a mess, and he’d been the cause. "Look at that mouth, keep panting like that..." He moved his finger to stroke her clit, quick and firm, causing her to gasp. "Should I stuff it with my cock until you gag? Would that shut you up?" His other hand smacked her ass again as he spoke, leaving another hot mark in his wake. His voice dropped lower, more smug. "Or do you want me to just fuck you? Hm? The choice is yours."

"Damn," she muttered, her body wracking with shivers as his fingers strummed over her clit expertly. He may act nervous, but he knew what to do with pussy. "You talk shit," she threw back at him, "Like you’d actually shut me up with that dick. I'd bite it off." She snarled as she wiggled her ass to provoke him. "And who said anything about choosing? You asked if I wanted you to stuff my mouth or just fuck me. Where's the option to ride your face or have you eat me out?" She smirked.

“Trust me, I plan on doing it all.” He smacked over her clit a few times, feeling her jolt. It was such a pleasure, having her so reactive underneath him. “I have no intentions of this being a one and done. Not when you’ve made such a fucking mess out of me.” She had no idea, did she? “All I wanted was t’get you to like me. Wanted to hang out with you. Made me so nervous.. and then you tell me you want to get me off? Think m’not gonna go crazy?”

Clicking his tongue, he shook his head. The woman really didn’t have a proper clue. He’d wanted to go about it the proper way but she’d been true to her fashion, blunt and to the point. “Got all nervous just tryin' to talk to you. Thought you'd eat me alive, professionally and literally." He chuckled darkly, giving her clit one last firm tap before withdrawing his hand. “Now, m’not so sure I’d mind. Think we’re gonna take turns doing it.”

She let out a breathy laugh at his words, her head falling forward as she relaxed back against the bench. "Oh, you're something else," she murmured, her voice tinged with amusement. "Crazy, nervous, sweet boy who wants to make me like him and then wants to take turns making me cum." She reached back, her fingers threading through his hair as she pulled him down by his scalp as he looked over her body. "Fuck, I think I'm starting to like you, Harry. But I think I’d like you more with my cunt wrapped around that pretty cock.”

His face split into a wide, predatory grin at her words, his eyes flashing dark with desire. "For fuck's sake," he muttered, nipping lightly at her throat where her neck met her shoulder. "Such a filthy mouth for such a pretty face." One hand slapped her ass again, trying to get the skin hot while the other moved to grip his cock, lining himself up with her entrance. Pressing the tip against her, he applied just enough pressure to make her feel the stretch but not entering yet. "You wanna know something, beautiful?" He didn’t wait for her response. “I’ve never been so obsessed with making a woman like me the first fuckin’ times I meet her," he admitted, his voice rasping as he fought to maintain control. "I've never wanted to please someone so badly that it hurts." Flexing his hips forward slightly, he teased her with the tip of his cock. "And I've never, ever been this hard in my entire life."

"Goddamn," she breathed out softly, arching her back slightly to push back against him. "You get all sweet, talking about being scared of pissing me off. Making me laugh. Getting nervous..." She wiggled her ass again, wanting more of him. Just the preview of the stretch made her want more. "And then you spank me and talk dirty." Her voice dropped to a sultry purr. "Do you even have a filter? Answer me one thing, Harry." She asked, making him tense slightly. "Are you this sweet and this filthy all the time? Or jus’ when you get horny from tattoos?”

He chuckled, his hot breath fanning over her shoulder. "Both," he answered honestly, his hands roamed over her greedily, wanting to get very well acquainted with her body. "M’always sweet, always a gentleman when I need t’ve... but I've always been filthy in the bedroom." He bit down gently on her shoulder, his hips bucking forward slightly again, catching the tip of his cock on her cunt again. "And tattoos make me extra horny, so... here's your answer," he continued, his hands spreading her cheeks apart slightly to get a better view.

 "Sweet and romantic most of the time. Dirty talker and versatile in bed." He pushed forward again, this time sliding just the tip inside her wet pussy. "Feeling you tattoo me… made me wanna throw you down and pound into you hard. Was willing to do anything you wanted if it meant feeling this… fuck, just look at that." He muttered, looking down in awe at where his body met hers, watching himself disappear slightly inside her. "No filter when I'm horny."

“Shit.” Y/N winced slightly at the stretch of him, feeling the tip pull back out before popping right back in again. It was the good kind of pain.  “Thought you’d only be a sweet little sub but… You like both?” She wanted to know more, impressed with the so-called ‘versatility’. He’d been so sweet, nearly shaking earlier when she had caught him hard and now he was teasing her poor cunt.

On how the tables have turned.

He grinned against her shoulder, the motion making his hips move again and sending another inch of his cock inside her. "Mhm," he hummed, his hands squeezing her ass. "I like being sweet and submissive, but I also love being dominant and in control." He pulled back again, letting her feel the stretch of just the tip before pushing in further. "It's all about the situation and who I'm with." He nipped at her skin again, his words punctuated by slow, teasing thrusts.

"I can be your cute little puppy one minute, begging for your kisses, your touch..." His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips as he held her steady. "And then flip the switch and fuck you into oblivion the next, depending on what you need." He slid deeper this time, groaning at the tight heat enveloping him. "So is that what you want, Angel? Want me to ruin this pretty pussy with my cock?"

She nodded, her arms relaxing by her sides as she spread her legs further apart, giving him an unobstructed view of her dripping cunt and his thick cock disappearing inside her. "Fuck, look at that," he breathed, his eyes glued to the sight as he pulled back until just the tip remained inside her.. With a low groan, he pushed forward, watching her stretch around him. “S’so pretty. Wish you could see how gorgeous she looks, opening up for me.”

Harry wasn't small by any means, and he was more than aware that his size was intense for most women. He gave another testing thrust, watching her body swallow him up inch by inch. "Goddamn," His voice dropped lower, almost concerned. "You good?" He could feel her stretching around him, her inner walls quivering as she adjusted to his size. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest as he tried to push deeper, trying his best to soothe her. "Talk t’me," he rasped, pressing his lips against her shoulder. "You okay, sweetheart?" He flexed his hips forward again, burying another inch inside her. 

Was it a bit contradictory? Yes. It was. But he knew she liked it- he could feel it, hear it in her little sighs. One thing he would give himself was that he was an observant lover. Her pleasure was above his own and he was paying attention to every shift in her. If she wasn’t loving it, he wouldn’t continue. 

She let out a long, shaky breath, her head falling back onto his shoulder as she felt the stretch with each movement. "Fuck... it's been a while," she admitted, her voice strained. "You're really big." Her nails dug into his forearms as she tried to relax her body, to let herself open up for him. "I'm okay... just give me a second to... fucking... adjust." She hissed, wiggling her hips slightly, testing the feel of him inside her.

He felt her inner muscles clench and unclench around him as she adjusted, her body struggling to accommodate his size. He could see the stretch marks on her inner thighs, the way her pussy lips were spread wide around his thick shaft. He gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to slam forward and bury himself to the hilt. Instead, he held still, his fingers digging into her hips as he waited for her signal. "You look so fucking pretty like this, baby. Unreal." he murmured, his breath hot against her ear.

“Thank you, puppy.” She tried, cooing the best she could as she relaxed her top half over the bench as he adjusted her back down. “There’s that sweetness.”

"Still trying to earn more brownie points with you." he teased lightly, pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder blade as his hand trailed up to brush her falling ponytail away from her skin. "Thought I might've ruined that when I spanked you." His hips gave her a little more, burying himself a tiny bit deeper just to feel her twitch around him.

"Mm?" She hummed softly, her body relaxing more around him. He could see the muscles in her back moving fluidly as she tested the stretch again, spreading her legs wider. He almost whimpered at the view - his thick length disappearing inside her slicked up, puffy lips. "This is all I wanted, baby. Wanted to be real fuckin’ nice to you. You think I’m being nice enough yet?” He tested softly, his voice dropping back to that sweet, almost innocent level..

"You're being a good boy," The reply came softly as she arching her back just a bit. "Sweet talking me one minute, spanking my ass and spreading me open the next. Making me take this cock inside me..." Moaning softly as he widened her thighs, he gave himself better access. "You're definitely being nice." 

He grinned mischievously, his fingers splaying wide over her inner thighs. "Yeah, you like that, Angel?" He cooed, his sweet demeanor belied by the way he was positioning her body. "You like me being sweet while I make you take all this?" Pushing his hips forward again, he pushed the final inch inside her. "You think I’m being gentle enough? Or do y’need something more?"

She moaned again, his words driving her wild as he forced her legs higher. "You're being more than fucking gentle," she panted out, her inner muscles convulsing around him. She shivered, reaching back to grab at him. "Less asking if I like it, more show me how you fuck when you're being sweet." 

"Yes ma'a." Harry echoed obediently, the same smirk playing at his lips as he pulled almost all the way out, leaving just the tip inside her before sliding back in with exaggerated slowness, letting her feel every thick inch keeping her open. He maintained that maddeningly gentle pace, his hips rolling against hers in smooth, controlled thrusts that hit deep but never rushed. “Such a perfect cunt. Christ.”

He peppered her neck with soft, open-mouthed kisses as he continued his slow, deep thrusts, his large hands keeping her right where he wanted her. "This is what you needed t’get you to talk to me, huh? Jus’ needed a thick cock t’fill you up. Didn’t need to be nervous… just needed to give the pretty Angel what she wanted." He murmured against her skin, his voice dripping with fake innocence "I think you’re ready for more." 

"Damn it, you're playing with me," She gasped out, her nails digging into his thigh as she pushed back eagerly onto his cock. "Sweet talk me more like that while you fuck me harder." She purred, her head tilting to give him better access to her neck. "Wanted to shut up that nervous rambling with my pussy, huh? Gave you somethin' better to put your mouth on than words."

"Mmhmm, exactly," he hummed softly, his large hands tightening on her thighs as he continued his slow, rolling thrusts. "Shutting me up real nice with this pretty, squeezing little hole, isn't it?" He sighed against her throat, his hot breath tickling her skin as he spoke. "You’re so pretty, sweetheart. So fuckin’ hot around this cock." He flexed his hips forward, burying yet another thick inch inside her.

"Want more, Angel?" he murmured teasingly, barely moving inside her. "Need me to fuck this greedy little pussy harder?" He punctuated his words with a sharp, quick thrust before returning to his torturously slow pace.

She snapped at him, her voice tight with lustful irritation. "Shut up and fuck me, Harry! Stop teasing and put your money where your mouth is." Her demand was abrupt and harsh, contrasting sharply with the sweet way she'd been talking to him moments before. Harry chuckled darkly as he finally gave in to her demand. Her wish was his command.

He snapped his hips forward abruptly, finally giving her a taste of his full length and girth as he buried himself to the hilt inside her. "Like that, you greedy little thing?" he growled as he began to thrust harder and deeper, filling her completely with each stroke. "You want me to ruin this perfect little hole?" He snarled, his voice laced with a matched aggression as he fucked into into her.

“God, yes. Finally.” She moaned, loving the sting she felt from his cock filling her. It wasn’t the easiest to take and it had been a while but it fit her so well, she knew she needed more. He’d done a decent job getting her worked up, and she needed him to do what he promised now.. “Shut up and fuck me.”

"Christ, baby. Okay. I’ll- I’ll give you anything y’need." he groaned, finally letting go of that last bit of control. His thick length slammed into her again and again, each thrust harder than the last.  One hand moved to her hip, holding her steady as he fucked into her, the sound of their bodies meeting echoing through the room.

The wet slapping of skin against skin filled the air, punctuated by his guttural groans and her own breathy cries. His thick cock slid in and out of her soaking wet pussy with ease, the sound of her coating his dick and making each thrust slick and, frankly,  obscene. It was lewd and hot and he knew that he was living a damn dream. Harry's own moans grew louder, more primal, as he lost himself in the sensation of her tight heat surrounding him. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chanted, his voice ragged with pleasure. “Pussy is so fuckin’ good, baby. I can’t… you’re too good.”

Leaning over her body, his face pressed against her shoulders as he kissed and bit at her skin, seeking comfort and reassurance even as he ruthlessly fucked her. His hands moved from her hips to wrap underneath her, around her waist to hold her in place as he buried himself inside her over and over, his movements becoming less controlled and more desperate.

“There you go, puppy.” her voice was strained as her knees wobbled, clutching onto the bench and his thigh as he filled her right up. He was wrapped all around her, kissing and whimpering into her skin. “Shutting up and giving me that perfect cock. Just like you should.”

"Mmm..." The endearment of 'puppy' combined with her nails dragging across his skin made him whimper softly. His hips stuttered as he continued to fuck her deeply and smoothly, submitting to her praise as his mouth sought more skin to taste. "Makin’  me feel so good, Angel... d’you? Want you to feel so good too..." He was fully reduced to sweet, submissive whispers now, in stark contrast to his intense pace.

"You asked for sweet..." His voice dropped lower, almost shyly. "You like this better? Me being all nice while I pound your cunt?" He spread her thighs wider as he adjusted, changing the angle slightly to make himself go even deeper.

She let out a long, low moan at the new angle, her inner walls clenching around him tightly. "Fuck, yes... just like that, puppy." Her voice was husky with pleasure, her nails digging into his thigh hard enough to leave marks. "You're being so good for me, taking care of me so well with this perfect dick." She pushed her ass back against him, meeting his thrusts eagerly. "Keep talking to me like that, keep being my good boy while you fuck me."

Harry's breathing was labored as she praised him, his cock throbbing inside her. Pressing open-mouthed kisses along her shoulder and neck, he wasn’t able to shut the hell up. "You like hearing me talk like this? Your good boy, fucking you so deep and hard..." His fingers found her clit, circling it slowly as he continued to thrust. He needed to see her face as he did this. As much as he liked taking her bent over- he wanted to watch her face when she came apart on his cock.  

Ignoring her whine when he pulled out for a moment, he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her effortlessly and flipping her over onto her back. Adjusting her so she was laying stead, he stepped between her spread thighs  as he lowered himself back inside her. He wanted to see her face, to watch her expressions as he continued to fill her with his thick length. "Look at me," he whispered softly, his voice laced with submission as he began to thrust again, "I want to see your pretty face while I'm being a good boy and giving you this….cock," he finished, his hips snapping forward to bury himself to the hilt inside her again. 

His eyes locked onto hers, drinking in the sight of her flustered face, her lips parted in a silent cry, her eyes glazed over with pleasure. "So fucking pretty," he breathed, his hands reaching up to cup her cheeks as he began to fuck her with renewed vigor, his thrusts hard and deep. "Look at me, Angel. Look at your good boy while I make y’feel good."

He worshipped her with his eyes as he continued to fuck into her, filling her up again and again. He brushed his nose against hers, breathing her breaths in as he whispered soft, submissive words against her lips. "You're so pretty... so perfect... you deserve this... you deserve me being your good boy and giving you everything you want..." He moaned softly, his hips rolling forward to brush spot inside her that made her eyes roll back. "You like that?"

Her back arched off the bench, her hands flying up to clutch at his shoulders as he hit it again. "Fuck, yes.” she cried out, her voice echoing through the room as she shuddered beneath him. "Just like that, baby. Don't stop, don't you dare stop fucking me." She bucked her hips up to meet his thrusts, desperate to keep that thick length buried inside her as he rubbed against her g-spot in the way he knew she needed.

His face broke out into a blissed-out, adoring smile as he felt her clench around him, her cries of pleasure music to his ears. Harry was determined to make her feel the best she ever had, to see her lose control and shatter beneath him. "Gonna make you cum, Angel... gonna make you cum so hard on my cock… tell me what you need." He’d do anything. 

"Choke me," she panted out, her eyes wild with desire as she stared up at him. "Choke me while you fuck me, puppy. Show me who’s making me feel good." Her hands reached up to grip his wrists, guiding his hands to wrap around her throat. "Squeeze... please... I need to feel your hands on my neck while you fuck me..." She didn't even finish the sentence before he complied, his large hands wrapping around her delicate throat and squeezing lightly. “Yeah, like that.” 

His large hands tightened around her throat obediently, squeezing just enough to feel her pulse fluttering beneath his fingertips. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he groaned softly, letting her hear how it made him feel. “Look perfect with my hand around your neck… Makes me want t’cum so badly..” His hips slammed forward, burying himself impossibly deep as his fingers pressed slightly harder against her windpipe. 

His other hand slid down to her clit, rubbing swift circles as he felt her walls flutter around him. "Come on, Angel... fucking squeeze me. Show me how good it feels. I can feel you tryin’ to milk my damn cock.”   Harry could actually feel tears well up in his eyes as the intense pleasure of her tightening cunt mixed with the sight of his hands around her throat.

 Her nails dragging over his wrists sent electric shocks straight to his cock, making him thrust deeper and faster. "So fucking beautiful... gonna cum so hard if you keep squeezing my dick like that..." His hold on her throat tightened slightly more as his cock pulsed inside her. 

She giggled deliriously, her body shaking beneath his as she felt him losing control around her throat. "You gonna fill me up while you choke me?" She pushed up against him with her hips, making him hit that spot again and making her hiccup. "Come on, Puppy... c’mon, you look so sad with those tear-filled eyes... You gonna make a mess in your good girl or not? Give it to me.” She hissed, almost demanding it. “I want it. Show me.”

Harry really couldn’t help it. Her words pushed him over the edge, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep and let out a low, guttural moan. "F-fuck... Angel..." he choked out, his fingers tightening around her throat as he came hard, his cock pulsing and filling her with his hot cum. Tears spilled over his cheeks as he shook and trembled above her, completely undone by her words and the intensity of the moment. "So good, baby it’s… so fucking good..." he was babbling a bit, but he couldn’t control it. She’d nearly fucked him dumb.

"It’s so hot…” feeling his load inside of her only made it harder to keep it together. There was nothing more arousing than a man losing it inside of her, unable to wait. “Keep going, just-," she panted out, her body still shaking. "Don't stop, puppy. Keep fucking me and choking me until I cum." Her nails dug into his wrists, holding his hands in place as she arched her back and pushed her hips up to meet his thrusts. "I need it... need to cum so badly... keep going, good boy... make your Angel cum all over you." 

Her makeup was ruined, her eyeliner smeared and running down her cheeks as she laughed and begged him to keep going. Her hair was a mess, sticks and strands clinging to the sweat-damped skin on her face. Y/N knew she looked utterly wrecked, completely lost in the moment as she rode out the intense pleasure he was giving her, and she didn’t care. Her nails scraped against his wrists, leaving red marks as she held his hands in place, keeping his hand choking her as he listened to her. "Don't stop... don't you dare stop.”

"Jesus..." he gasped, his over-sensitive cock still leaking cum inside her as he continued to thrust, dedicated to her demands. He could feel his messy cum leaking out around his length each time he pulled back, creating a wet, lewd sound that only turned him on more. "Look at you... so messy... cum all over your pretty pussy..." He leaned down to kiss her swollen lips, groaning as his hips moved automatically, fucking her deeply. It was intense and he felt the over sensitivity but the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint her.  "God, you're fucking destroying me..." The whimper was hoarse, hitting that perfect spot deep inside her again and again. 

Her inner walls clenched around him, drawing out another desperate moan from him as he felt her getting close. "Cum baby, cum all over me..." He adjusted the angle slightly, pressing harder against that spot, knowing it would send her over the edge. "You're gonna squirt all over me, aren't you? I want you to give it t’me" He tightened his hold on her throat, hoping that extra pressure would help push her over.

His nose pressed against hers, his breath mingling with hers once again as he begged her to cum. "Please, Angel... please cum for me... squirt all over my cock and make a mess of me with your cum..." His voice was raw and desperate, his hips moving in deliberate, deep thrusts as he held her throat and fucked her with precise, calculated movements designed to make her lose control. "I need to see it, baby... need to feel you cumming all over me..." She was right there. He could feel her pulsing around him, bruising up to it. Taking her bottom lip, he bit down. 

She choked out a loud moan mixed with a scream as she finally gave in, her body convulsing around his over-sensitive dick. She yanked his hair hard and pulled her throbbing lip from his teeth, arching her back and pushing her hips up to meet his thrusts as she let go, squirting hot and sticky all over his lower abdomen and balls. "Fuck, yes... yes... that’s a good girl!" He praised hoarsely, his fingers flexing around her throat to ease up as he felt her clenching around him. "There you go, baby. Jus’ like that..."

He slowly stilled his movements, still buried deep inside her as he reached up to gently wipe away the smeared makeup from her cheeks as she went through the last of it. "So fucking beautiful," he cooed softly, his thumb brushing over her tear stained skin. "Perfect, messy little Angel..." He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead, his other hand resting on her throat without any pressure. "You did so good, baby... took me well." He praised her warmly, his voice filled with the satisfaction he felt.

This was the last place he had realistically thought he would end up today, but it’s his favorite place he’d been in a while.

"Mmm..." Y/N let out a happy, delirious giggle as she wrapped her legs around him, keeping him buried inside her. His forehead rested against hers as they both caught their breath, sharing the same dream, fucked out smile. 

"Look at us..." he laughed softly, one hand still gently stroking her throat while the other traced patterns on her overheated skin. "Messy makeup, sweaty skin..." He wiggled his hips slightly, making them both giggle. "Both fucking destroyed...

"You're like a wet dream," she giggled softly, her legs tightening around him, making them both let out noises. "One minute you're spanking my ass and being all dominant, next you're choking me and being my sweet little puppy..." She nuzzled his nose with hers, laughing softly. "And now you're all gentle and touchy like you didn't just make me squirt everywhere..."

"Well, I think I’m multidimensional." He hummed softly, his forehead resting against hers as he listened to her breathe. "You're on the pill, right?" He asked suddenly, his voice curious. "Not that I'm complaining about not pulling out-but I wanna know if I can just..." He wiggled his hips slightly, making her hiss. "You know... stay inside you all the time..." He blushed softly, burying his face in her neck.

“Mhm.” She replied, stroking through his sweaty hair. “You can relax. M’fine.” It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to go at it raw but… prevailing circumstances. She didn’t regret it. “M’gonna have to sanitize the fuck out of this place now. I still have t’finish your linework”  "Mhm..." He murmured happily, leaning into her touch as her fingers played with his sweaty hair. "Fuck, I'm glad." Pressing a small kiss to her throat, he relaxed a little. "My brains still scrambled from that orgasm, if m’honest..." He flexed his hips gently, making them both shiver. "But you know what?" He looked up at her with those sweet, vulnerable eyes. "I'll behave real nice while you finish my lines. No squirming..." He grinned innocently. "Promise."

[rafesangelita]

♡ when a double date with rafe leads to him feeling a sense of familiarity + you may have revealed your biggest secret yet..

warnings: mean!rafe. enemies to ???, suggestive language, lots of cussing lol, slight angst, mild sexting, light degradation (reader and rafe just like being snarky towards each other), sexual tension, flirty banter (?), slight arguing

a/n: this is part two of this fic right here! if you’d like to be added to the taglist just comment on this post or leave me an ask <3 i do plan to write three more parts to this!

link: mini series masterlist

wc: 2.9k

[1:19 AM] countryclub: we have the same area code.

you felt cold sheer panic run through your veins at the revelation, your heart beating in your ears as you kept rereading his message. you refused to believe what he said to be true. this couldn’t be happening. sharing the same area code could only mean one thing— both of you resided on the island.

sure, the island was small, but it couldn’t be that small.. right? your mind was reeling, everything that you two had talked about, the pictures that you two shared, over the last few months ran through your mind at lightning speed. tossing your phone to the side, you rested your head in your hands, trying your best to piece something, anything, together. this mystery man didn’t talk like anyone you knew, or so you thought. you chewed on your bottom lip, your chest rising and falling as you realized that you hadn’t even confirmed if you two shared the same area code. for all you know he could just be making up some lame excuse for leaving you high and dry.

yeah, that had to be it.

[1:33 AM] brattydiaries: fuck you. i don’t believe that.

[1:35 AM] brattydiaries: i don’t need you to come up with some elaborate lie in order to spare my feelings. if you weren’t serious about reaching out to me in the first place, then you shouldn’t have asked for my number.

rafe was pacing back and forth in his room, the taste of tequila from his earlier activities still lingering on his tongue. he scoffed once your messages came in, his eyes narrowing at his screen as he scratched the back of his neck. insinuating that he didn’t really want to talk to you was just flat out insane. nowadays, all he could do was imagine the way your voice would sound in his ears while he pounded you in, the thoughts and images of you taking up his headspace.

[1:38 AM] countryclub: are you fucking stupid?? i was very serious about wanting to talk to you, you live in my fucking brain.

[1:39 AM] countryclub: 252. that’s the area code for kildare island.

[1:39 AM] countryclub: and judging by the way you post your nail appointments every two weeks, along with all the sexy lil try-on hauls you did for me, i could confidently say that you’re not a pogue.

your eyes widened in horror. only someone who lived on kildare island would know about the whole ‘kooks vs. pogues’ thing. besides the confirmation with the area code, you knew he wasn’t lying. you stared blankly at the screen, having no idea what to say or even do about this situation. having these kinds of blogs and letting anyone you knew in real life find out about them was social suicide. maybe not so much for rafe, but you? you were a totally different person out here. you had a reputation to uphold, you couldn’t risk the scrutiny you or your parents would face if anyone ever found out.

as mad as you were at the mystery man behind the screen for ghosting you without an explanation, you could understand his sudden disappearance now that you currently felt sick to your stomach at the realization. he was far too close for comfort. based off of his username, you knew you two had to be running in the same social circles, your blood running cold at the thought of this person being someone you might’ve had contact with before. figure eight wasn’t big enough to keep a secret like this, it was only a matter of time before you two would unintentionally reveal yourselves to one another.

[1:50 AM] brattydiaries: this can’t go on any longer. sorry not sorry.

you ignored the small pang of hurt in your chest when you pressed send. apart of you hoped that he wouldn’t let you off so easily. you couldn’t deny the thrilling feeling that sat in your tummy at the prospect of knowing who he is but also being utterly clueless at the same time.

[1:55 AM] countryclub: nah.

[1:55 AM] countryclub: i got you right where i want you now.

there was no way in hell rafe was going to just allow you two to go back to not talking. he did it once, but he wouldn’t be able to do it again. especially now that he knows everything he wants is on his side of the island. just in arm’s reach. obviously, he couldn’t physically stop you from blocking him, but at least he knew that if you responded to him then you two were on the same page.

and sure enough..

[1:59 AM] brattydiaries: whatever.

were you scared shitless? yes. did you believe that this was going to backfire in some way? most definitely; but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want this. whatever little sexting arrangement you two had going on, it was the only relatively exciting thing you had going for yourself and you weren’t necessarily ready to let it go.

[2:03 AM] countryclub: so can i call you or what?

you shook your head even though he couldn’t see you.

[2:05 AM] brattydiaries: fuck no. goodnight.

rafe smiled down at his phone before getting ready for bed, both of you finding it nearly impossible to get any kind of sleep. when you woke up the next morning, you were met with at least a dozen messages from chanel.

[8:10 AM] chanel ♡: topper just dropped me off at home..

[8:12 AM] chanel ♡: crazyyyyy night.. but anyways! me and you are going on a double date tonight. idk who topper is bringing but you don’t get to say no because love me, okay!?

[8:12 AM] chanel ♡: LMAO imagine it’s rafe

[8:18 AM] chanel ♡: omg you srsly need to wake up already and come over so you could help me choose an outfit!!

you continued reading through her texts, already dreading tonight’s plans as you decided to go ahead and get the day started so you could get this whole ‘date night’ thing over with. even though chanel jokingly said topper would bring rafe to be your date, you really hoped that wasn’t the case. the last thing you felt like doing was fighting or bickering with him because of your indifferences. after spending the afternoon rummaging through chanel’s closet, she finally settled on a dress that she hasn’t worn out before. “where are we even going?” you asked.

“topper said it’s a surprise so he’s picking both of us up from here.” she smiled, her words making you roll your eyes. you hated not knowing what you were getting yourself into. yet again, here you were, sexting with a stranger who just might not be a stranger after all. by the time topper texted chanel that he was outside, you two were in full glam, ready for whatever tonight may bring you. topper opened the doors for both of you, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of you two. “we weren’t sure how to dress, sooo..” topper nodded, “yeah, i can see that.”

topper had on a casual outfit, a stark difference to the mini dresses and heels you and chanel currently wore. “now is probably a good time to tell us where we’re going.” you quipped from the backseat. at your cattiness, chanel flashed you a glare. “rafe offered up his boat, so i figured we’d just have a couple drinks, have a good time, ���you know?” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest as chanel happily agreed. this was bullshit. not only did you have to spend the next few hours with rafe on his stupid boat, but you were sure this ‘double date’ was going to turn into a third wheeling act real fast.

fifteen minutes later, and rafe was reaching out to help you onto the druthers, an annoyed look written all over his face as you tossed your purse at him first. “what? i don’t want my bag to fall in the water, okay?!” taking hold of your hand, rafe caught a glimpse of your nails, the french tip design looking oddly familar. you squeezed his palm, stepping onto the deck with a sigh. topper and chanel had already made their way inside the cabin area, both of them laughing as they slid the door shut, leaving you and rafe all by yourselves. it was moments like these that made you wish you could be anywhere else.

rafe scanned your outfit, his eyes lingering on your cleavage before you turned around, annoyed. “i guess it’s a good thing topper didn’t mention i’d be spending majority of my night with you. ‘cause i wouldn’t have came.” you snatched your purse back, your heels clicking against the deck as you sat on one of the cushioned chairs near the lounging area. rafe grabbed his cooler, deciding to entertain your antics since all you two had was time. “mmm, i don’t know about that. apart of me thinks you like arguing with me. i know i do.” you scoffed, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips.

“yeah? i bet. female attention seems to be something you lack.” rafe laughed, taking a seat next to you. “oh, i can guarantee you that’s not the case.” he scooted closer, unscrewing the cap from his beer. yeah, right. you knew all about rafe’s inability to hold onto a relationship, rumors of his emotional unavailability spreading around the island like wildfire. “no? i’m sorry, i just assumed since, you know.. you’re a full time asshole.” rafe put his beer down, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed thickly. “only with you, i am.”

you laughed, finally meeting his gaze. he was a lot closer than you thought, his cologne filling your senses as your eyes flickered down to his lips for a second. “so i’m special then?” you had a faux innocent look in your eyes as you blinked up at him, the sight making his jaw clench. “no,” he smiled, leaning in, “but i can be nice. i can be real nice.” the insinuation made your cheeks heat as his face was just mere inches away from your own. tilting your head, you flashed him a sweet smile before shoving him in the chest.

“that’s never going to happen.” rafe acted like you didn’t have any effect on him, but inside? he was fighting every urge to pick you up and take you back to tanneyhill. he couldn’t help but feel like he knew you more than you let on, your demeanor reminding him of a certain someone. “can i ask why?” he watched as you grabbed his beer, your lipgloss smudging around the rim as you took a swig. “why i don’t like you, or why i won’t let you fuck me?” rafe leaned back in his chair, his thighs spreading as he crossed his arms over his chest.

well you definitely had a way with words..

rafe took the time to get a really good look at you. he had a feeling about you that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, the familiarity driving him crazy. he was determined to figure you out. “both.” he answered, taking his beer back from you. slipping your heels off, you brought your feet up and got comfortable in your spot next to rafe. “well i only realized i didn’t like you when i found out you had been talking about me first. so, really, i should be asking you why you don’t like me.”

rafe blinked. all this time he thought that you felt the way you did just because. “how come you never asked me then?” you stayed silent for a few moments before shrugging. “everyone has always made their assumptions about me. about my parents, about my life.. but no one really knows me, or what really goes on in my home. i just let people think whatever they want.” rafe’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “what do you mean?” at his words, you realized you may have said too much.

putting your defense back up, you backed away from him slightly before you scoffed. “you’re the last person i’d ever confide in, rafe.” the man next to you immediately recognized what you did, having veered away from being vulnerable a countless amount of times himself. rafe couldn’t help but keep digging. “let’s go tit for tat, then. you tell me something, anything you want, and i’ll say something in return. ‘that way it’s an even exchange.” apart of you hated him for making this so easy.

“i’m not doing that with you.” your voice sounded different. it lacked that usual bite and now rafe felt bad for opening his mouth in the first place. before the awkward tension could settle over you two again, you got up with your phone in your hand. “where are you going?” rafe watched as you slid the door open to the cabin area. “inside. i need to make a phone call.” you lied, walking past chanel and topper who were aggressively making out on the couch in the corner.

locking the small bathroom door behind you, you sighed, taking a moment to let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding. what even was that out there? unlocking your phone, you sent chanel a text that you wanted to leave even though the chances of her seeing it was extremely slim. you stalled, deciding to freshen up your makeup as you waited for this so-called ‘date’ to end already. you were reapplying your lip gloss when your phone went off, making you mutter a ‘thank god’. instead of the notification being a message back from your best friend who was currently getting her face sucked off, it was from tumblr instead.

[9:14 PM] countryclub: what are you doing right now? i could use someone to talk to rn ngl

you looked up from your screen and stared into your reflection. this message came at just the right time.

[9:15 PM] brattydiaries: that makes two of us. i’m not with the sweet talk rn though, but i could use a distraction right now for sure..

[9:16 PM] countryclub: define ‘sweet talk’ cause i had every intention of asking you for some sexy pics and maybe a phone call if you’re down with that?

you refrained from laughing at his text, his bluntness throwing you for a loop. you couldn’t deny the giddy feeling you had in your tummy when you thought about hearing his voice. biting your lip nervously, you pulled the neckline of your dress down, exposing the lace of your bra before snapping a few pictures.

[9:19 PM] brattydiaries: 3 attachments

[9:20 PM] brattydiaries: here’s the first half of your request. make me wet and just maybe i’ll accept the call..

rafe was outside on the deck looking over his shoulder every two seconds to make sure you weren’t coming back in time to see the explicit photos currently illuminating his screen. he cursed under his breath, his eyes raking over the soft swells of your breasts. you were so fucking perfect, he couldn’t believe you were so close yet so far.

[9:22 PM] countryclub: fuckk you’re unreal.

[9:22 PM] countryclub: i hate that i’m wrapped up with something right now, otherwise i’d be sending you paragraphs about how pretty your tits look for me.

you sighed in defeat, making a mental note to send him a text once you were finally in the comfort of your own bed. with you still in the bathroom, rafe took his time examining the photos, his eyes widening slightly as he zoomed in on the dainty diamond pendant of your necklace, the background looking like something he has seen before.

[9:25 PM] brattydiaries: aww, too bad.

just then, chanel knocked on the bathroom door, her hair looking slightly out of place once you opened it. “i just saw your text. you ready to go?” you nodded, adjusting your dress before stepping out. “sorry to cock block you, i just had a really weird moment with rafe.” you explained, tossing your phone back in your purse. chanel waved you off before interlocking her arm with yours. “don’t even worry about it, we’re going back to his place, anyways.” she reassured you.

topper was already outside on the deck once you two made your way out of the cabin. glancing at rafe, you quickly looked away once you saw that he was already staring at you. “well, thanks for letting us use the druthers.” chanel smiled, in which rafe just shook his head. “ah, don’t even worry about it,” he held your stare, “..i had a good time.” blinking away from him, rafe’s eyes caught onto your cleavage once again, except this time; a sparkle from right above your neckline took him out of his reverie.

that necklace..

before he could piece anything together, you were moving with chanel, not sparing rafe another look as you were getting back onto the dock. the car ride back to your place was deadly silent. all except for the music topper had playing in the background. by the time you had gotten home and showered, you felt your world come to a stand still when your phone started ringing, an unsaved number with kildare island’s area code showing up at the top.

accepting the call, you held up the receiver to your ear with a shaky hand before speaking.

“hello?”

“..you sound pretty.”

taglist: @meallan01 @sf1738 @emeloyy @hmmshhhh @chelzaa @starkeycore @liyah4evaaaa @hnybitches @urbimom @kittenjujusblog @femaholicc @lil-sparklqueen @yktayy9669 @matthewswifeyy @icaqttt @jjasmiineee @lilithblackkk @rafecameronswhoore @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @ditzyzombiesblog @i-love-gvf @blondrafe @wolf-2005 @brianquinnlvr @lightbluebaby @jkrafe @lovemaybankk @xcinnamonmalfoyx @drewstarkeysbabe @issues4him @dahliaparton @slut-4-gojo @luvagirlsworld @nemesyaaa @jwdiaries @midsoulz @drewstarkeyzwhore @urmotherlvr @chillgal135 @wtfisastiles @dollyfiles @annaconscience @rafesluvr @locallyhateddoll @acidfeens @cherubfille @whathechickenstrip @my-name-is-baby @wtfdudesblog @atjlovverr @shoutingcardinal @hshehehe @drewscoquette @callieyanderechan @perfectangeldoll @lunaleah

[infiniteglitterfall]

This seems like it's intended as a "gotcha." Like the obvious answer would be "the Palestinians, who are literally named after it."

But if so, it's a very misinformed "gotcha."

All the different definitions of "indigenous" basically boil down to:

a people that arose in a particular place,

before -- not as a result of -- colonization,

and which haven't assimilated into an invading culture,

but instead have kept their distinct cultural identity, even if forced into diaspora.

For example, the Negev Bedouin are the indigenous people of the Negev Desert, in southern Israel.

They have a long archaeological record demonstrating that they've been there for millennia. They've kept their cultural identity through the present day.

If you look at the archaeological and historical records of either Israel or Palestine, you see that there's been a continuous Jewish presence right next to that desert for over 4,000 years.

There are literally kosher bone piles from some 3,800 years ago.

There are Hebrew place names that have been the same for thousands of years.

When Spain exiled the Jews in 1492, they fled back here.

There are fundamental Jewish books that were written in Safed, in northern Israel, when it became a center of Jewish mysticism in the 1500s (as a direct result of that exile).

Jews were the majority group in the region until about 1100, when the Crusades decimated the overall population.

In 692, the giant golden Dome of the Rock was built where the Second Temple, the center of Jewish life, used to be.

Why, then, was it ever called Palestine in the first place?

Because the Jews there revolted against Roman imperialism. Twice.

And the Romans responded by committing genocide:

killing nearly two million Jews,

enslaving nearly 200,000 more,

building the Colosseum with that labor and with the spoils of war,

erasing Jerusalem and the Jewish state,

and subsuming it all into a large new district called Syria Palestina -- named after the much-hated and long-gone Philistines.

Eventually, the Islamic Empire took the land from them. And ruled it through a series of caliphates, until the last one, the Ottoman Empire, fell in World War One.

And I know, you'll probably blow all of this off with "lmao I ain't reading all that."

But just to go one little tiny bit longer:

The way the supposedly pro-Palestinian movement CONTINUES to treat actual Palestinians who speak out about the far-right fascist movements harming them is HORRIFYING.

The fact that nobody in the movement seems to notice that this movement doesn't listen to, work with, platform, or even mention any activists in Gaza is REALLY horrifying.

This is something the progressive movement has drilled into me for like 25 years: If you want to avoid being paternalistic, and actually get anything DONE, you absolutely HAVE TO work as allies to the people who are actually affected.

Otherwise, you're speaking over and erasing them.

And accomplishing nothing.

The fact that your reaction to "there's an extremist movement that is NOT Islam, and it hurts Muslims more than anyone else," is to claim that's "genocidal racist dogwhistles," is fucking appalling.

TL;DR: all of you need to at LEAST read Hamza Howidy.

He's 24, maybe 25 by now. He lived in Gaza until he was 23. He co-organized a massive movement against Hamas when he was 19.

Hamas has thrown him in prison and tortured him for it. Twice. He has friends who died in its prisons.

We should be looking up to activists like this. Instead, the leaders of the Columbia encampment preemptively blocked him. Many "pro-Palestinian influencers" did too. Or just blocked him and other activists who reached out for support.

And the movement as a whole has ignored him. In favor of, generally, pretending Hamas is the Palestinian resistance, and worshipping it accordingly.

I understand that most of us don't know anything about Middle Eastern history and politics.

I learned almost zero about it at ANY point in school. I think I heard the phrase "the Arab Expansion" a couple times, and that was about it.

But if ANY of us give one tiny shit about anybody across the Middle East and North Africa -- including, especially the genocides in Congo and Sudan -- we have to grasp the fact that JUST LIKE CHRISTIANITY, ISLAM ALSO HAS A FAR-RIGHT FASCIST MOVEMENT.

It should be fucking EASY for anyone in the West to see that Christian Nationalism/Christofascism could have a twin called Islamism/Islamofascism.

SURELY we aren't paternalistic enough to think that everyone oppressed in Western countries is some kind of saintly, childlike innocent who would never think exactly the same way people here do, across the same wide range of ideas and motivations.

Surely it's not that fucking hard to see that there could be people in other parts of the world who execute mass shootings against groups they hate.

Or who seize power through a combination of violence and weaponized bigotry.

Or who hate queers and women and trans and intersex people and go to any lengths necessary to control our lives and bodies.

Like. Do you really think that the people who try to legislate us out of existence in a democracy wouldn't try to stamp us out if they were born anywhere else?

In the wake of 9/11 and in the quarter century since, Muslims in the West have suffered from utterly atrocious levels of Islamophobia. I won’t ever deny that or defend it. It is unconscionable and should be seen as abhorrent as any other kind of racism.

What that doesn’t mean is that we should overcorrect and view any criticism of extremist Islamism as racist. Islam is a religion, one followed by almost 2 billion people worldwide. Islamism is an extreme political ideology, one that uses Islam as an excuse for the appalling horrors they commit. They are not the same.

And the thing is, the people who are most victimised by Islamists, by far, *are* the millions of Muslims living in the countries where they wield the most power, some who very courageously speak out and resist and try to expose the horrific crimes committed against their populations, only to be met mostly with silence and indifference.

Conflating criticism of extremist ideology and terrorism with Islamophobia silences the voices of ordinary Muslims suffering under these regimes, and makes a mockery of their bravery.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

One step, two step, three step, ow! Part 2: Oliver starts taking the reader out on father-daughter dates, and Ollie goes all out (flowers, sweets, cute baskets of things, etc.). The others and Bruce realize this when they try to invite the reader to a family movie night, but she's busy going to Star City to watch a movie with Ollie and Dinah.

I didn't know so many people loved this one, lol. But I'm glad you all enjoyed it so much.

Oliver will honestly spend his time with the reader because the Batfam sometimes forgets to invite you to family events like movie nights, games, or anything really. So, your next best thing is to call up Ollie and spend the day with him, playing board games, destroying Ollie at Uno, and singing with Dinah. The bats will be so confused about where you are, only to find you doing archery lessons with Connor. You'll ask Ollie to take you to school dances, thinking that Bruce is too busy and doesn't care, only to discover he cleared his whole schedule just to find Ollie spending time with his little girl and dancing with him at some silly school dance. It drives the press crazy, and it drives Bruce crazy too. Oliver is stealing his daughter without even trying; he's picking you up for daddy-daughter dates. Bruce is growing more gray hair, and you're already replacing the Batfam with the Arrow family. Damian's rivalry with Connor will skyrocket; the beef they will have will be so one-sided. Like, how dare he steal my older sister, just for Connor to want to hang out with you at the arcade? It starts getting real bad when there’s a picture floating around Twitter of Ollie picking you up in the air while you laugh your face off. This leaves Bruce in shambles for a good few weeks until he literally bans Oliver from picking you up and taking you anywhere, same with Dinah—no, you guys can't bake cookies together It’s finally a night where you were never invited to family night before—no, but you are now—and they'll make you the center of attention, which makes you a bit scared. You're not used to everyone being so nice. It’s like you're on an episode of one of those prank TV series where the camera crew walks out and tells you it's a prank, but there's no camera crew and no boom mic hitting you in the back of the head. There’s no director saying "action." It’s just you guys in this big living room that feels cramped for some reason in front of this big flat-screen TV. Why is everyone looking at you play? Why is Tim pretending to be bad at Tekken 8? He’s a god at Tekken! What’s happening right now? Are you in an episode of the Twilight Zone? 'Cause why is it your turn, and why the hell are they playing to your whims like puppets on a goddamn string? Someone call Roy and get you the hell out of this house before they start gaslighting you into clearing your plans for the day and hanging out with them.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | February 10th-16th 2025

Hope you all had a good Valentine's/Pal-entine's Day! Here we got something like 70cm of snow in four days, which is as much snow as we usually get in the whole month of February 😂

Trying a new formatting, let me know what you think!

Complete

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Nightby I_still_dont_understand_13 / @dangerpronebuddie (Prompt collection | 36/? | 23K | Teen): 100 kiss prompts.

37. A kiss on the cheek turns into a kiss on the lips

Will You Be My Valentine? by dylaesthetics (Valentine's Day | 1,7K | Mature):

Buck sends all of his contacts an innocent message asking them to be his (platonic) Valentine.

a glint of you in everything by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S8B, Magical Realism, Getting Together | 3K | Teen):

A year into living in El Paso, Eddie begins to see glimpses of Buck's life when he looks in the mirror.

Buck Naked and Afraid by paleredheadinascifi (Canon Divergent, Sleepwalking | 6K | Teen):

Buck sleeps naked. Buck also sleep-walks. Buck sleep-walks naked out of his apartment and locks himself out. Fate cackles. Enter Eddie Diaz.

best laid plans by coldbam/ @coldbam (Established Buddie, Marriage Proposal | 7K | Mature):

Buck drops the binder onto the kitchen table with an impressive thud. The front is labeled TAX STUFF, 2011-2018 in simple block letters. “You came over to do…secret taxes? In the middle of October?” “Oh, no, that’s—that’s a misdirect. I keep it hidden but just in case anyone’s snooping. Eddie hates doing taxes, and Christopher would think it’s boring adult stuff.” He opens the binder and flips past the first 3 pages which are actual old tax slips to keep up the hoax. He turns it around to show Maddie the page he was looking for: Proposal Ideas * Buck proposes. For real this time. (Part 2 of proposal series)

u/fuckley's Reddit post history. by dylaesthetics (Social Media fic, Getting Together, S2-S8 | 8K | Mature):

r/Relationships u/fuckley • 4 yr. ago 🔞 NSFW HOW DO I STOP HAVING MORNING WOOD WHILE SHARING A BED WITH MY BEST FRIEND??? [URGENT] I don’t know which sub to use for this, but I need immediate help. OR the emotional rollercoaster of Buck’s Reddit posts throughout the history of knowing Eddie.

🔥faded from the winter by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergence, Amputee Buck, Post-Shooting | 10K | Teen):

Eddie struggles to bounce back after the shooting. Buck starts leaving him with his service dog, Cranberry. (Part 4 of 🔥Buck & Cranberry)

Red Sky at Night by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Established Buddie, Future fic | 10K | Teen):

Buck and Eddie's stress levels are put to the test when a series of inconveniences precede Christopher's prom night, and their subsequent wedding.

you cut out a piece of me, now I bleed internally (left here without you) by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Depressed Buck | 11K | Mature):

And Buck is left standing there. In the rain. He stares at where Eddie’s truck used to be, now gone and out of sight. And he stays there for God knows how long, waiting, because maybe Eddie turns back. Maybe Eddie changes his mind and turns around. And he’ll jump out of his truck and laugh at Buck about how he could never leave his home here. How he could never leave Buck. And maybe he’ll pull Buck in one of those dramatic, movie-worthy kisses in the rain. And Christopher decides to come back and they live happily ever after. But this isn’t a fairytale or romcom. This is real life. And Eddie is gone. And he’s not coming back. And Buck… Buck is alone once again. (Or: After Eddie moves to El Paso, Buck copes. Except he doesn't.)

🔥 slaughterhouse by kithmet/ @kithmet (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Kleptomania, Freak4Freak | 21K | Explicit):

Buck keeps him everywhere. He’s smuggling him into every inch left vacant, because like this, he doesn’t lose him, won’t lose him. Like this, he gets to keep Eddie forever, even if it’s just the pieces and the memories attached. The reminder of him will haunt him and this apartment like a ghost. Because Buck can’t trap him in his apartment and force him to stay, he’d never ask that, couldn’t ask that, but he’s going to damn well do his best to salvage it in some form. He’s kidnapping Eddie’s shadow, no matter how much it hurts, and there’s no choice about it. Or: Buck has resolved to be the greatest friend ever. He’s handling this move so well. And not at all being abnormal about Eddie’s house. Or Eddie’s belongings. Or, well. Eddie.

WIP

🔥 Gentle On My Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Shannon Lives, Buck/Eddie/Shannon | 15/? | 91K | Explicit):

In which Shannon lives, tells a lie, and sends hers, Eddie's, and Buck's lives down a very different path.

[dianawinchester03]

Season 3, Episode 5 - Bedtime Stories

Series Masterlist

Authors Note: Hi my beauties! Another late update but it’s better late than never. Work has been a pain in my ass, plus it’s carnival season in my country and that means school projects for my little cousins are piling in. Istg, those teachers basically make us do the projects and not them XD

Though I’m pushing through and taking every little chance I get to write, which is barely any hahaha. Hope everyone likes this one!

Warning: smut, p-in-v sex, oral (male receiving), teasing and angst if you squint really hard.

____________________________________________

Third Person POV

Somewhere in the US

The Impala was casually driven down the desolate gravelly road with Dean Winchester behind the wheel. At this very moment, Sam and Y/N were going back and forth with Dean, trying to persuade him. “We don’t understand, Dean. Why not?” Sam argued as Y/N glared at her boyfriend. “Because I said so” Dean stated firmly, keeping his eyes glued on the road.

Sam huffed in annoyance at his brother’s response, looking over to Y/N for support. “We’ve got the Colt now” Y/N defended, leaning forward from the backseat. “Y/N…” Dean warned. “We can summon the crossroads demon-” Sam added, “We’re not summoning anything” Dean snapped back. “-pull the gun on her and force her to let you out!” Sam continued shouting.

“We don’t even know if that’ll work!” Dean argued back, “Well then we’ll just shoot her, if she dies then the deal goes away!” Y/N yelled, “We don’t know if that’ll work either, guys!” He cried out, he was tempted to throw them both out of the car. “All you’re pitching me right now is a bunch of ‘ifs’ and ‘maybes’ and that’s not good enough because if we fuck with this deal then both of you die!!” Dean exploded.

He was beyond frustrated at his brother and girlfriend for how naive they are being right now. They were determined and stubborn about it but Dean wasn’t willing to listen to their ridiculous plan, the idea of risking their lives to save his was heart wrenching.

Y/N and Sam were both equally frustrated and angry with themselves at how stubborn Dean is being about his whole ‘no to summoning the crossroads demon’. Yet despite their irritation, they care and love for him more than anything and are desperate to get him out of his deal although feeling helpless.

“And if we don’t screw with it, you die!” Y/N retorted, the pain and anger clear in her tone. “Sam, Y/N, ENOUGH!” He bellowed loudly, slapping his steering wheel in frustration. “I’m not gonna have this conversation!!” Y/N clenched her jaw, tightening her grip around her locket. “Why, because you said so?!” She mocked, narrowing her eyes at him.

“YES BECAUSE I SAID SO”

“WELL YOU’RE NOT JOHN OR DAD!!”

He paused and gripped the steering wheel at her words, his whole body went rigid in the driver’s seat. Meanwhile, Sam froze. his jaw falling agape. Right now, he was wishing his seat would swallow him. “Excuse me?” Dean said stiffly. Y/N kept her gaze hard, knowing she had just stepped into uncharted territory, but she never shied from a challenge.

“You heard me” She stated firmly, holding her ground as she crossed her arms over her chest. His head snapped over into her direction, the two lovers holding a heated gaze in which both were not backing down from before he focused back onto the road. “No, but I am the oldest. And I’m doing what’s best!” Sam and Y/N sighed in frustration, rolling their eyes at Dean’s words. “But Dean-!“

“You’re gonna let this go, you understand me?” He interrupted Sam’s protest, his expression as serious as a heart attack, Sam held back a scoff as he nodded stiffly, not really having a choice in the matter. Dean then turned to Y/N, he shot her a stern look, his expression demanding in compliance, “Are we clear?” He stated firmly. Y/N gritted her teeth, raising a brow at him, “Excuse me?” she bit back bitterly.

He looked at her, her stubbornness getting on his last nerve. “I gave you an order!” he snapped. Her head flew up with shock, her heart dropped in her chest. She felt like she was 14 again, forced to listen to her father. Tears welled up in her eyes, staring back at him with disbelief as she practically shrunk into her seat. Sam’s eyes widened, the look on his face said ‘You did not just say that’.

The second those words left his mouth, he regretted them. He went bug-eyed wide when he saw how hurt his girlfriend’s features turned, the look in her eyes told him he messed up big time.

Y/N forced herself to close her mouth, swallowing harshly. She tore her gaze away from Dean, shutting down mentally and emotionally. It was uncommon for her to shut down, usually she’d snap back at her father after she grew a pair and started rebelling with Sam but hearing it come from Dean made her crumble. “Yes, sir” she muttered through a croaky voice and watery eyes.

Right there and then, his heart shattered into pieces at her soft reply, he had never made her use that word before, not even in a sexy way, usually it was reserved for their dads. Hearing her call him like that felt so wrong on so many levels. He never wanted her to ever be afraid of him, that was never his intention. He knew he really screwed up, at a loss for words, feeling guilty and ashamed.

Sam shifted his eyes over to Y/N, who was clutching at the book in her lap, biting her lip to stop her tears from flowing. His face dropped, a painful pang hitting in his own heart before he looked at his brother, glaring at him.

The brothers communicated with their eyes, ‘Apologize’ Sam’s face told him in Winchesterarian.

Dean met his gaze, an expression of helplessness and ‘I don’t know how to’ written on his face.

Sam’s eyes narrowed and he jerked his head toward Y/N, ‘Apologize. Now.’

He could practically hear Sam’s voice in his head, telling him to just apologize to her. He could’ve been able to just do it until he dared to look at his girlfriend through the corner of his eye. Seeing her teary eyes that she was trying to mask over with a cold expression was the thing that had him feeling like he had been shot in the heart.

“Y/N...” He tried, softly, “Baby, look at me” Her nostrils flared at his desperate plea, further turning herself in the corner of the backseat behind Sam. She didn’t dare to look at him, cursing herself internally for getting so worked up. Why didn’t she just snap back? She’s usually good at that.

He swallowed hard, it felt like there was a lump in throat, his heart shattering even more the more he watched her refuse to look at him. “Please? Look at me” he begged lowly, reaching over to place her hand on her thigh. She remained silent, Sam’s gaze burning into the side of his brother’s head. The younger Winchester felt as though he was in the middle of the argument of the parents he never had.

The pain only increased at the action as she practically slapped his hand away, he skulked like a kicked puppy. He had to restrain himself from grabbing her and making her look at him.

“Tell him about the psychotic killer” She told the younger Winchester, her voice wavering as she leaned back into the seat, pulling her knees to her chest, not even bothering to take her off her black knee-high boots. Sam, on the other hand, was pissed at Dean.

‘What? I tried’ Dean responded in Winchesterarian, attempting to shrug nonchalantly. Sam shot him a nasty glare that said, ‘You can try harder, you jerk’ before he looked at Y/N, who was now hugging her knees against her chest, “The what?” Sam asked gently, turning around to face her.

“From the newspaper clipping inside the book” She answered, resting her chin on her knee. Sam nodded, furrowing his brows as he opened the book and started to read over the article. Dean let Sam go over all the case information, his eyes once again glued to his girlfriend’s form in the backseat. He really hated himself right now.

“Psychotic killer: Rips victims apart with brute-like ferocity.” Sam read off of the article, “Okay, any mention of his razor-sharp teeth or his 4-inch claws, animal eyes?” Dean joked half-heartedly, his question directed to Y/N. She simply shook her head, keeping her eyes trained on the droplets of rain running down the window. Dean let out a puff of air. He wanted this conversation to be over so he could just hug her and take it all back.

“Sammy?” he turned to Sam who also shook his head. “But the lunar cycle’s right” Sam sighed, “Look, if it is a werewolf, we don’t have long. Moon’s full Friday and that’s the last time he changes for a month” He added urgent, his tone solemn. “Two days, no sweat.” Dean mumbled, glancing back at Y/N who now was in the middle of lighting a cigarette.

She took a deep puff of her cigarette before letting out a loud sigh, rolling down the window since the rain cleared up. Dean watched the glow of the butt between her fingers, her elbow resting on the window. Her emotions were at war with each other as she inhaled the nicotine.

On one hand, she was boiling with anger towards him but on the other, she longed to just forget about it and be held in his arms. She and Sam just wanted to help him, that’s all.

____________________________________________

Maple Springs, New York

“I’m Detective Plant, this is Detective Page and Lee” Dean introduced himself to the sole survivor of the ‘psychotic killer’ mauling, flashing him his fake badge along with Sam and Y/N before pointing to them. Sam and Dean used the last names of the frontmen of legendary English rock band Led Zeppelin, Robert Plant and Jimmy Page. While Y/N used the last name of Evanescence’s lead singer, Amy Lee.

“We’re with the County Sheriff’s Department” He added as they all simultaneously opened their suit jackets, stuffing them into the inner pockets. Y/N wore a suit this round too, contrasting her usual blouse with a skirt.

“Yeah, uh, been expecting you” Kyle, the sole survivor, sighed from his hospital bed. He wore a blue hospital gown, along with stitches to the side of his face due to claw marks from the ‘psychotic killer’. “Yeah? You have?” Y/N asked, the trio shocked. “All morning. You are the sketch artists, right?”

“Um…” Sam hummed nervously, “Absolutely” Dean chimed in confidently, Y/N glanced over at him raising a brow before nodding along in confirmation. “That is actually who my partner is,” Dean smiled, pointing to Sam. Y/N caught his drift, when Dean nudged her, going along with it, “Oh, man. The things he can do with a pen” Her words caused Sam to panic.

Sam awkwardly chuckled before side-eying the two. “But, listen, before we get started on that, I wanted to ask you…uh, how'd you get away?” Dean asked as he stuffed his hand into his pocket. Kyle’s expression darkened at the question, he inhaled deeply to calm himself down before answering. “I- I have no idea. I was hiding…and he found me. He was coming right for me and then he just stopped”

Dean, Y/N and Sam exchanged looks with each other, all three wearing the same expression of confusion. Kyle’s breathing became labored as he reminisced, “Stared at me with this blank look. After that, he just took off running” Sam and Y/N looked at the man with pure sympathy, their hearts aching for him. His situation hit home since they related to his survivor's guilt.

“Okay…um” Sam cleared his throat, swallowing as he took out his notepad from his pocket. “I’m gonna need as much physical detail as you can remember” The younger Winchester flipped the pad open before clicking his pen. Dean and Y/N peered over his shoulder with amusement, eager to see what ‘drawing’ he was gonna come up with.

Kyle nodded before taking a moment to compose himself. “Uh..yeah. He was about six feet tall. Dark hair” He inhaled sharply. “Um..what about his eyes? What color eyes did he have?” Sam asked, lifting his pen. “Uh…blue? It was dark” Kyle answered, puzzled as Sam nodded. Dean shot Y/N an amused look, taking in how she was smiling at the panic Sam was in.

She glanced over at him, her smile faltering as they made eye contact before focusing back on Kyle. Dean’s face dropped along with his heart. “Did they seem…animalish?” She asked, “Excuse me?” Kyle’s brows furrowed. “What about his teeth? You notice anything strange about them?” Sam chimed in, scrambling to save his drawing that was turning out to be a complete disaster.

“No, they were just teeth” Kyle shook his head, his eyes squinted in confusion. “Teeth. Okay” Sam responded. “What about his fingernails?” Dean asked, “Look, he’s- he’s just a normal guy with normal eyes and teeth and fingernails” Kyle began to hyperventilate, Y/N immediately picked up on the tell-tale signs of a panic attack, having experienced them herself. “Sir, it’s okay, we’re just-” She tried to comfort him.

“No” Kyle became choked up, tears welling up in his eyes as he shook his head frantically. “No. Those were my brothers. This guy…he killed my brothers. The only family I had.” Sam and Y/N’s expression softened, their hearts breaking for the broken man on the hospital bed. Dean had his expression of pure pity as Kyle burst into tears, his shoulders shaking as sobs filled the room. “How would you feel?” He asked them.

He felt as if he had been stabbed in the heart at Kyle’s question as Y/N’s gaze dropped to the ground, biting at her lip to stop herself from becoming choked up also while the images of Sam dying flashed in her head. The two shared a sorrowful look before answering, “Can’t imagine anything worse” Sam replied, swallowing harshly as he imagined anything happening to Dean.

“Agreed” Y/N sighed in agreement, Dean’s gaze shifted over to the two, his expression filled with guilt and remorse. He took a deep breath, “Look, I know this isn’t easy but if you could remember any more details..” Dean said to Kyle gently. Kyle nodded through the sobs before he inhaled deeply, wiping the fresh tears from his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I got- I just” He began to apologize, “It’s okay, hun” Y/N reassured him, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“Just..go back to that night. You were at the construction site” Dean prompted him. Kyle thought for a second, “There was one more thing. He had a, uh…a tattoo on his arm of a cartoon character” Kyle tried to remember. “It was the guy, who- He was chasing the Road Runner” He rubbed his head as Dean and Y/N’s faces lit up. “Wile E. Coyote” They answered in unison, pointing at him in recognition.

“Yeah, that’s it” Kyle confirmed, Y/N bit her lip to stop herself from screaming victory. "That’s the bastard,” Dean smirked. Sam looked at them almost impressed as he continued scribbling on the notepad. “Kyle?” A voice said from behind them, their heads turned to face Dr. Garrison. “Dr. Garrison” Kyle smiled sadly at the man. “How are you holding up?” The doctor asked his patient in concern.

“Okay, considering” Kyle sighed, “You’re, uh, Kyle’s doctor?” Dean asked, taking out his fake badge. “Yes,” Dr. Harrison raised a brow at them. “Can I just ask you a few questions?” He asked, gesturing for them to step outside. “Uh- Sure” The doctor nodded, his expression puzzled at the question.Dr. Garrison followed Dean outside into the hallway before he shut the door behind them as Sam and Y/N stayed with Kyle.

“Don’t I get to see it?” Kyle asked Sam, pointing to the sketch in his notepad. Sam’s eyes widened as he flipped open the sketchpad, Y/N peered over his shoulder again, covering her mouth to stop herself from laughing at the horrendous drawing. “Uh…yeah, yeah” Sam chuckled nervously, handing Kyle the pad. “It’s a, you know, work in progress” Kyle took the pad from him, his brows furrowing as he tried to make out the messy drawing. “It’s really..um-” Kyle responded confused, giving Sam a pitiful look.

-

The trio were now walking back to the Impala, Dean was cackling at the drawing in Sam’s pad as Y/N snickered into her palm. “Boy, this is a piece of art, really” Dean laughed as Y/N snickered into her hand. “Yeah, like you could’ve done any better” Sam rolled his eyes, snatching the pad away from Dean before smacking his brother in the back of the head with the pad. “Ow, hey!” Dean rubbed the back of his head before he continued snickering.

Y/N took the pad out of Sam’s hands, laughing harder at the drawing the longer she examined it, “I’m so framing this” Dean smiled at her laugh, enjoying seeing her laugh after the silence she’s been giving him. He chuckled at her comment, “No” Sam whined in protest, “It’s not that funny” He reached for the pad, but Y/N snatched it away, holding it out of his reach. “Oh, hell yeah it is” she shot back before sticking it in her pants. “But I-“

“Don’t even” she warned playfully, shutting him up. Sam pouted as she reached up, patting him on his head of hair before he turned to Dean. “What did the doc have to say about Kyle’s brothers?” He asked as he sighed in defeat. “Not much, they were DOA at the scene. He did give me the lowdown on the coroner's report” Dean replied, “Let me guess, their hearts were missing” Sam muttered as they continued to pace down the sidewalk.

“Nope, but chunks of their kidneys, lungs and intestines” Dean answered, Sam and Y/N grimaced in disgust and confusion. “Dude, that’s just gross” she mumbled, gagging, “Yeah, also definitely not werewolf behavior” He agreed, feeling a bloom of relief that she sorta spoke to him. Whether it was indirectly or not, he would take anything he got at this very moment from her. Hell, he’d take another slap if it means they’d kiss and make up.

“So, what? A demon? Attacker could’ve been possessed” Sam suggested, “Why would a demon stop halfway through an attack?” Y/N questioned, raising a brow. “I think that- uh…could it-. I got nothing” Sam stuttered, “Me neither” Dean agreed, nudging Y/N with his elbow. She looked up at him in acknowledgment, giving a nod before she sighed.

The hunter smiled back at his psychic as the trio finally approached the Impala and stood in a comfortable silence while Dean unlocked the door. That was quickly disturbed by Sam clearing his throat. They turned to face him, his arms crossed with a raised eyebrow. “Can you two at least talk to each other, or are you gonna ignore each other for the rest of the hunt?”

Y/N and Dean snapped their heads together, meeting each other's eyes for a split second before looking away. Y/N avoided looking at Dean altogether while he shot a warning look at Sam. “Shut up, Sammy” The couple snapped in unison before simultaneously opening their doors, Dean opening the drivers side and Y/N opening the passenger’s side, both climbing in.

Sam sighed, his hands dropping to his sides but a small, smug smirk formed on his lips as he opened the back door and settled into the back seat. Y/N crossed her arms as she stared out the window while Dean sighed, starting the car, his eyes shifting over to her every so often. The silence immediately fell over the car like a thick sheet, and tension was radiating off in waves from the front of the car.

Sam groaned to himself as he sunk into the seat, knowing it’d be another 15 minutes of unbearable atmosphere until they got to the motel room and then another however long this fight was gonna last until they made up.

____________________________________________

The evening was now setting in. Dean went out to get dinner for everyone while Y/N stayed back in their motel room and Sam stayed in his separate one. Now, she was on a phone call with Jo, rambling on about her argument with Dean.

“I-I don’t know what to do, Jo” Y/N sighed heavily through the phone as she laid on her side, staring up at the ceiling. “I know you’re both stubborn as hell, but you’re gonna have to talk to him. This can’t go on forever” Jo responded with a calm, stern tone. Y/N groaned, burying her head into one of the pillows.

“I want to but I can’t!” She exclaimed defensively. “Everytime I look at him now, all I see is dad and it’s so fucking-….UGH!” She screamed into the pillow, her words muffled along with her string of curses and shouts. “Hey- hey” Jo replied with a comforting tone. “I know, the whole ‘Daddy issues’ thing is a huge trigger. But this is Dean, he’s not John or your dad” There was a soft yet stern tone to her words, trying to talk some sense into her friend.

“I do not have daddy issues” Y/N scoffed, pulling her head out of the pillow to prop herself against the bed frame. Jo scoffed right back. “You so do and so does Dean. Hell, all four of us do” Jo responded bluntly, “You have major, unresolved trauma that stems from your dad. You and I both know it” She said gently. Y/N inhaled deeply, biting at her lip. Y/N knew she was right. The two of them had had similar conversations a thousand times before.

“I hate you, sometimes” Y/N bit back, running a hand against her forehead. “No, you love me” Jo chuckled, her laughter brightening the mood. Y/N smiled, rolling her eyes even though she knew the girl couldn’t see her, “Just…talk to him. Yell at him, smack him, whatever, I don’t care. Just end this stupid fight you two are having” Jo continued, growing serious once more.

Y/N chuckled bitterly to herself, the irony of the situation kicking in. “Who knew, our first fight is somehow our dads faults” She scoffed, shaking her head. “Yeah, go figure” Jo muttered, “Listen- I gotta go, Sam’s calling me. But you promise me, Y/N. That you’ll talk to him” Jo told her softly but firmly. Y/N nodded even though she knew Jo couldn’t see her. “Yeah, yeah. I will” She finally caved.

“Good, cause I don’t want to be your guys’ relationship counselor” They shared a soft laugh, “Remind me why we’re friends again?” Y/N joked. “Cause I’m awesome and you love me” Jo deadpanned before both girls burst into laughter, “Alright, love you, be safe” the younger huntress sent a kiss through the phone. “Love you too” Y/N replied with a bittersweet laugh, “Bye”

She hung up and laid it on the bedside table next to her, her smile falling almost immediately. She could still hear Jo’s words playing in her head, echoing through her mind as she groaned loudly. She sighed as she flopped back onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. Jo was right, she needed to talk to Dean. She couldn’t let this go on any longer.

-

Meanwhile, Dean strolled down the halls of the motel. His left hand was loaded with two bags, one bag containing his and Y/N’s dinner and the other with Sam’s. While his right hand held a bouquet of Y/N’s favorite flowers and a bag with her favorite snacks, a carton of her favorite cigarettes and a chocolate chip cookie bigger than his head, you’d swear it was a cake.

He came to a stop in front of Sam’s door, tucking the flowers under his arm gently, ensuring he didn’t crush the delicate fresh petals. He brought his free hand, pounding it against the hardwood.

Sam was sitting at the desk inside, his phone to his ear, his head propped up on his other fist while a coy smile played on his face. “Mmm, I think I’d like th-” His attention immediately turned to the door at the knock, jumping in his seat. “Shit- Hold on baby, I think Dean’s back” He told Jo quickly over the phone, placing it down on the table before standing up to make his way over to the door.

He raised an eyebrow as a smirk appeared on his face as he swung the door open, glancing between the bags and bouquet that was tucked under his brother’s arm. “Trying to butter her up?” Sam snickered as Dean rolled his eyes, pushing past Sam and into the room. “Oh shut up” He muttered, putting the bag with his little brother’s dinner down on the desk. Sam’s eyes flicked to the enormous cookie and cigarettes.

“Dude, it’s like the size of my head” Sam chuckled, moving to open it. “Hands off, it’s not for you” Dean quickly snatched it back, giving a stern look. Sam snickered, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Don’t worry, I got you a salad like a healthy person” He rolled his eyes, “Fucking rabbit food” he muttered. “I’d rather eat ‘rabbit food’ than have a heart attack before I’m thirty” Sam fired back as he sat back down by the desk.

“Whatever, bitch.” Dean scoffed, flipping Sam off over his shoulder as he walked back out of the room. Sam chuckled once more as he shut the door behind him, turning the lock before heading back to his seat in front of his laptop, picking his phone back up off the table. “I’m back” He finally spoke into the phone once he settled. “And you were gone for too long,” Jo replied with a playful tone.

-

As Dean made his way back to their room, he inhaled deeply. She was probably still pissed at him, and rightfully so. She was also stubborn though, and she’d probably just continue to stonewall him until he properly apologized or she blew up.

He paused, looking down at the gifts in his hands as he reached the door to their room. Maybe a peace offering will do the trick? He sighed to himself as he took out the key to the room.

He tried to be as quiet as possible, unlocking the door cautiously and carefully opening it. He found her laying on the bed, her back facing the door. He couldn’t tell if she was asleep or not, but he knew she wasn’t going to be in a good mood by the way her shoulders seemed to be tense.

He shut the door carefully behind him, setting the bags with the food on the table before he slowly approached the bed, hiding the flowers in one hand and the bag with the cookie and cigarettes behind his back. He sighed once more and softly cleared his throat.

“Princess?” He called out quietly before pausing, waiting for her to either acknowledge him or ignore him completely. When she didn’t respond, he moved to stand next to the side of the bed, watching her for a moment. Despite the fact that she wasn’t looking at him, he could still tell she was definitely pissed. Hell, she was radiating it.

But her heart softened at the desperate tone in his voice, her eyes meeting his. Y/N pushed herself up from the bed, staring at Dean intensely as he kept the gifts hidden behind his back. Now that he had her attention, he hesitated for a moment before bringing the gifts into her vision.

“I, um, I got you a little something” He spoke cautiously as he held them out for her. He gave a small smile, an olive branch if you will. He looked hopeful, like a lost puppy, as he held up the bag that held the ridiculously huge cookie inside, cigarettes and then the bouquet of flowers. “These are for you…” He murmured.

Y/N looked from the gifts then back to Dean, she raised an eyebrow gently as her gaze shifted from his hand back to his face. She was surprised, to say the least, “Are you trying to butter me up?” Y/N repeated Sam’s words, her voice firm but not sharp, “You think you can just buy your way out with cookies and cigarettes?” She asked bluntly, not letting him off the hook so easily.

“No I-“ He exhaled, sighing. He shook his head, dropping the bag and the flowers on the nightstand. He ran his free hand over his mouth nervously, taking a second to gather his words. This was no time for cute sarcasm and corny jokes. He had to choose his words wisely.

“No, I don’t” He replied honestly, his face going serious. “I just- I just wanted to get you some of your favourites. I wasn’t trying to buy forgiveness” He responded softly. “I just...I just wanted to show that I don’t wanna keep being cold to each other…I’m sorry” He apologized genuinely yet simply, which was hard for him since he wasn’t good at it. “Please just…let me in, princess…I’m beggin’ you”

She felt her resolve falter at his words and his tone, how open and vulnerable he was being. She hated that he knew just what to do and what to say to melt her into a puddle. Damn him.

She exhaled sharply, her shoulders dropping as she shook her head slightly at herself for how quickly he could get to her. “Asshat” She muttered, her words lacking any venom behind them. He let out a soft huff of a laugh, a small grin forming on his lips, “Nutcase” He playfully shot back.

His body relaxed since he was slowly but surely making his way through the wall she’s built up around herself. He took a deep breath, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He shifted his body so he was facing her. He set the cookies down beside her on the bed before reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, “Hey, look at me” He murmured.

She inhaled and exhaled a few times, refusing to give in. “Baby, c’mon, look at me” He pleaded again, his tone serious now. After a couple moments she finally broke, letting out a defeated huff before her eyes moved to meet his own. “I’m sorry, I’m not good at this apologizing stuff. I ain’t no Shakespeare but I really am sorry. I should’ve never said that, I’m not dad and I’m certainly not your father” He emphasized on the ‘never’.

If her heart wasn’t pounding in her chest and melting at his words, she would’ve let out a light laugh. Of course this is when he actually starts to do the right thing and take things seriously.

She let out a sigh, crossing her arms in front of her. “No, you’re not them” She agreed with a huff before her expression softened slightly, “But…you still hurt me, y’know” She told him slowly, trying to word her thoughts without coming off too confrontational.

“I just-“ Tears pricked at her eyes again, she forced herself to swallow them, deferring her gaze to her hands. “I just don’t want to see you go” She whispered, he felt his heart drop to his feet at that. The tone of her voice made it worse.

He shuffled to sit right next to her now, resting his hand on her knee, “C’mere” He murmured, pulling her over into his lap. Once she was settled he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close to his body. He pressed his forehead against the side of her neck, “I’m sorry” He apologized once more, “I just couldn’t live without you”

Her head shot up, “And now I’m supposed to live without you?” She scoffed, pulling herself off of his lap. “Sam is supposed to live without you?!” Her voice raised. He couldn’t find a response. Part of him wanted to be selfish and say yes, but he knew it was wrong. Sam had already lost their dad, losing him would break him, but Dean didn’t realize that.

“Y/N-“ He started to protest, only for her to cut him off. “Why?” She questioned firmly, crossing her arms in front of her, “Why is it okay for you to die in months, huh?” She shook her head, her voice catching in her throat. “It’s not fair, Dean! We can help you!”

He rose from the bed, his jaw clenched, “We’ve been through this already” He told her in a stern tone. She let out a scoff through her nose, “Well I’m sorry for having a hard time swallowing the fact my boyfriend is going to die, just a little” She shot back sarcastically.

His eyes narrowed at her, “You think it’s easy for me?!” He huffed, his own frustration bubbling up. She rolled her eyes, matching his irritation as her arms fell by her sides. “No, actually, I don’t think it’s easy for you! But you’re acting like if you’re okay when clearly you’re not! You’re acting like if going to hell is just a trip to the fucking supermarket!”

She had a point. She was calling him out for his defense mechanism. But he hated how she was making him face how afraid he really was. “And what am I supposed to do, Y/N?!” He raised his voice, “Am I just supposed to walk around being a pansy ass cry baby?!” He snapped, throwing his hands up in the air. “No, you’re supposed to let us help you!”

“Damn it, Y/N, I’m trying to protect you!” He barked out, his expression hardening. “I am the oldest, I know what’s best for everyone else!” He yelled, taking a step toward her. “Is that an order?” She challenged, clenching her jaw. She threw his words straight back in his face and boy, did it hurt like a motherfucker.

They were toe to toe, his expression now soft. She simply raised her chin defiantly, refusing to back down. He bit the inside of his cheek as his nostrils flared, “No, no it’s not.” His head dropped. He took a moment before raising his head back up to just look at her, realizing she wasn’t just mad. She was scared. Terrified of losing him, as he was with her. He sighed heavily, running a hand over his face.

“I’m scared” he admitted softly, his voice cracking slightly, “I’m fucking terrified of what’s gonna happen” His shoulders slumped, no longer trying to mask his vulnerability as he brought a hand up to cup her face.

She stared up at him, her eyes locked on his. Shock glazed through her eyes at the fact that he just confessed. “It’s not fair” She repeated quietly, dropping the defiant tone as she reached out to lay a hand on his chest. “None of it’s fair”. Her voice and touch were now gentle, it was like a switch had gone off. Their argument now over, now replaced by a raw, vulnerable moment.

“No, sweetheart, it ain’t” he agreed with a sigh. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to control himself. He was trying his hardest not to cry in front of her. He swallowed down the lump that formed in his throat as he moved his hand from her cheek to hold her hand, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he spoke softly, his voice cracking as he held her hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

Her eyes softened at the sight of him breaking his wall down. She felt her heart clench in her chest as he held her hand tightly in his grip like a lifeline. She knew he was trying to keep his emotions in check, to keep up his tough exterior, she knew him all too well.

She didn’t want to be fighting with him, she wanted to be holding him close, comforting him. So she snaked her arms around him, pulling him into her. Dean instantly buried his face in Y/N’s neck, finding comfort.

His body relaxed, sinking into her warm embrace. His face pressed into her shoulder, his breath tickling her neck gently. He inhaled her scent, grounding himself. He felt safe in her arms. Just the feel of her against him, the familiar coconut and tobacco scent filling his nostrils, it was enough to soothe his racing heart and the anxiety that loomed over him.

His tears began to fall freely, letting out gentle choked sobs into her neck. It tore her apart limb from limb to hear Dean’s muffled sobs, her arms tightening around him as she bit the inside of her cheek.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you”

She held him close, running a hand up and down his back in a soothing motion. Her eyes shut as she gently pressed her lips to the side of his head. Dean slowly peeled himself out from her neck, his eyes trained on her lips as she brought her hand up to cup his cheek, wiping a stray tear away with her thumb.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he closed the remaining distance between them, gently connecting their lips. With one hand cupping her cheek and the other on her waist, he kissed her with a desperate need and tenderness.

Y/N responded eagerly, her fingers tangling in the short locks of his hair as she deepened the kiss, letting her own emotions and desire show through her actions. The taste of Dean’s salty tears coated her tongue but she didn’t care, she wanted to make him feel better. Their kiss was filled with a mix of passion and desperation, eliciting a light moan from her lips.

The moan was what did it for him. In a swift motion he picked her up. Y/N gasped from the sudden shift as he hoisted her with ease, her thighs residing on either side of his hips. His lips returned to hers. He walked backward until he lowered himself onto the bed, leaving Y/N straddling him.

He laid back on the mattress, his strong arms wrapping around Y/N's waist, pulling her closer. His hands roamed her back, tracing the curves of her spine before settling on her hips. He nipped at her bottom lip playfully, then soothed the sting with his tongue, deepening the kiss further.

Breaking away for a moment, he gazed up at her with heated eyes, "I need you" His voice was husky with desire. He nuzzled his nose against hers, breathing in her scent deeply before capturing her mouth once more in a searing kiss. His hands roamed over her curves, squeezing and caressing every inch he could reach.

Breaking the kiss momentarily, he looked up at her with heavy-lidded eyes, "Make love to me, baby" he breathed, his voice low and pleading. Y/N shivered at his words, her core clenching with need. She leaned down, her breasts brushing against his chest as she captured his lips in another passionate kiss. Her hands pushed off his leather jacket along with his flannel, eager to feel his skin against hers.

Breaking the kiss, she sat up and pulled his shirt open, revealing his chiseled torso. She ran her hands over his pecs, feeling the defined muscles beneath. "I need you too," she whispered, her hot breath fanning over his skin. She leaned down, her lips trailing kisses along his collarbone, her hands sliding lower to unbutton his pants.

As she worked to free him, she looked up at him through her lashes, her (e/c) eyes smoldering with lust. "Tell me what you want…tell me why you need” Dean groaned under her ministrations, his head falling back against the pillow as her lips trailed fire across his skin. His hands gripped her hips tighter, urging her on as she worked to free him from his jeans.

He panted heavily, his voice strained with desire when he finally managed to form words. "Stop being a fuckin’ tease, y/n/n." He hissed. His hips bucked slightly, seeking friction against her palm as she finally freed his straining erection.

Dean's eyes darkened with lust as he watched her lower her head towards his aching cock. He couldn't help but thrust his hips up slightly, seeking the contact he craved so desperately. When her warm, wet tongue made contact with the tip of his cock, he let out a guttural groan, his grip on her hair tightening. "Oh, shit...just like that," he praised, his voice rough with pleasure.

He rocked his hips in time with her movements, pushing deeper into her mouth with each stroke. The sensation of her lips and tongue working together was almost too much to bear, and he knew he wouldn't last long if she kept this up. "Baby, you're killing me here," he warned, his words coming out in ragged pants. "If you don't stop, I'm gonna cum right down your throat." He sounded utterly pathetic, and she loved it.

Dean's words sent a thrill through Y/N, knowing she had him right where she wanted him, on the edge and desperate for release. She doubled her efforts, taking him deeper into her mouth with each bob of her head. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive head, lapping up the pre-cum that leaked from his tip.

"Mmmph," she hummed around his length, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through him. Her free hand slid down to cup his balls, gently rolling them in her palm. Dean threw his head back, a string of curses tumbling from his lips as he fought to maintain control. Suddenly, she drew back, licking her lips as she peeled herself off of him.

Dean's hips jerked upwards, seeking her warmth as she released him from her mouth with a pop. He was left panting, his chest heaving with exertion as he stared down at her, his eyes wild with lust. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice a mixture of confusion and desperation.

Her eyes flashed with a mischievous glint as she began deliberately stripping slowly, taking her sweet time. Y/N bit her lower lip, savoring the anticipation building between them as she teased him mercilessly. She took her time removing each article of clothing, letting the fabric slide sensually over her curves. First went her top, revealing the bra that barely contained her breasts. Next came her pants, pooling around her ankles to expose the lace panties that hugged her hips.

Her hands moved to the clasp of her bra, but instead of releasing it, she simply toyed with the mechanism, keeping herself just out of reach. She leaned in close, her breath hot against Dean's ear as she whispered, "You want these off? You gotta earn it, big boy."

With that, she straightened up and turned around, presenting her backside to him. She bent over slightly, giving him an enticing view of her ass clad in the delicate lace. Dean’s eyes instantly zoomed in on her anti possession sigil tramp stamp, his hand finding its way around his cock as she ran her thumbs along the edge of her panties.

Dean's gaze locked onto the tantalizing sight of her ass, his eyes drinking in every curve and dip, every perfect imperfection. He could see the intricate design of her tattoo, a constant reminder of the powerful woman he loved. His cock throbbed in his hand, pre-cum leaking from the tip as he imagined burying himself deep inside her.

He slowly began pumping himself, his lips parted while she pushed down her panties, finally allowing it to pool at her feet. Y/N stepped out of her discarded clothes, now fully nude from the waist down before Dean's hungry gaze. She turned around to meet his eyes, snatching his hand away from his cock, stopping his self pleasuring.

Dean's eyes widened in surprise as Y/N abruptly stopped his hand mid-stroke. He let out a soft whine as she removed his hand from his throbbing erection, his body craving her touch. He looked up at her with pleading eyes, his voice low and needy. "Please, baby..."

He tried to pull her closer, desperate to feel her bare skin against his own. But she held him at arm's length, a coy smile playing on her lips as she admired his state of arousal. "Patience, charming," she cooed before attaching her lips to his against, straddling him once more. In a swift motion, she grounded her wetness against him, eliciting a soft moan from herself.

As their tongues danced, she ground her hips against his hard length, coating him in her slick arousal. Dean's hands roamed her back, squeezing her ass as he pulled her flush against him, desperate for more contact.

Y/N broke the kiss, her chest heaving as she gazed down at him with hooded eyes. "Please” he whined. She smirked in response, heeding to his pleas as she reached between them, positioning his tip at her entrance before slowly sinking down, enveloping him in her tight heat inch by delicious inch until they were fully joined. They both let out a gasp at the exquisite sensation, their bodies fitting together perfectly.

Y/N began to move, rolling her hips in a slow, sensual rhythm. Dean's head fell back against the pillows as she sank down onto him, his eyes fluttering shut at the incredible feeling of being buried deep within her warmth. He could feel every inch of her, her walls gripping him tightly as she started to move.

"Oh, fuck yes..." he groaned, his hands gripping her hips tightly as she rode him. He couldn't get enough, his hips bucking up to meet her downward strokes, driving himself even deeper inside her.

Their bodies moved in perfect sync, a sensual dance of pleasure and passion. Dean's mind went blank, focused solely on the feeling of Y/N above him, her breasts bouncing with each roll of her hips, her moans filling the room.

He reached up to cup one of her breasts, thumbing over the hardened nipple as he pulled her down to capture her lips in a fierce, passionate kiss. Their tongues tangled, devouring each other. Y/N felt Dean's fingers dig into her hips, urging her on as she continued to ride him with increasing fervor. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by their ragged breathing and moans of pleasure.

She broke the kiss, her chest heaving as she gazed down at Dean with lust-filled eyes. "You like that, baby?" she purred, grinding her clit against him with each downward stroke. "Tell me how good I feel..." Dean's eyes rolled back in ecstasy as she rode him harder, her inner muscles clenching around his cock with each grind of her hips.

“Fuck, yeah," he gritted out, his voice strained with pleasure. "You feel amazing, baby. So fucking tight and wet..." His hands slid down to grab her ass, kneading the firm flesh as he helped guide her movements. "Take what you need, princess. Use my cock however you want."

Dean's hips snapped up to meet hers, driving himself impossibly deeper as he chased his impending climax. "I'm getting close," he warned, his breaths coming in short, sharp bursts. "Don't stop, please..."

Y/N's pace became frantic, her nails digging into Dean's shoulders as she chased her own release. "Yes, yes, yes!" she chanted, her voice rising in pitch as she neared the edge. In a sudden motion, Dean tilted her to the side, flipping them over so that Y/N was pinned beneath him, her legs wrapped around his waist as he continued to thrust into her.

The change in angle allowed him to hit that sweet spot deep inside her with each stroke, sending shockwaves of pleasure through both of them. Y/N cried out, her back arching off the bed as Dean's new position sent her hurtling towards climax. Her legs tightened around him, heels digging into his ass as she urged him on. "Right there, Dean! Don't stop!"

With a feral growl, Dean pounded into her, driven by the urgent need to make her come apart beneath him. He could feel her walls starting to flutter, signaling her impending orgasm. He reached between them, using his middle and ring finger to tease her clit. "That's it, let go for me," he rasped, his own release looming on the horizon.

Y/N's entire body tensed, the added friction provided by Dean’s fingers sending jolts of ecstasy through her veins. With a wail, she shattered, her pussy clamping down on his cock like a vice as waves of ecstasy crashed over her. Her eyes flashed white for a brief moment before returning to normal, her vision blurring from the intensity of her climax. "Dean!" she screamed, her nails raking down his back as she rode out the aftershocks.

Dean threw his head back, a guttural roar tearing from his throat as Y/N's spasming walls triggered his own explosive release. He pumped into her frantically, burying himself to the hilt as jet after jet of hot cum flooded her pussy. "Fuck, Y/N!" he bellowed, his body trembling with the force of his release. He collapsed on top of her, still twitching inside her as they both struggled to catch their breaths.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Dean, holding him close as they both came down from their intense high. She stroked his sweat-dampened hair, nuzzling his cheek affectionately. "Mmm, I love you," she murmured, a satisfied smile curving her lips. After a moment, she carefully unwrapped her legs from around his waist, allowing him to slip free from her still-quivering pussy. She watched as a trickle of their combined fluids seeped out, trickling down her creases.

“We should clean up," she said softly, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. Dean lifted his head, meeting Y/N's gaze with a tender smile of his own. "I love you more, baby," he replied, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. He carefully extracted himself from her body, groaning slightly at the loss of their intimate connection. Rolling to the side, he sat up and stretched, his muscles still humming with satisfaction.

He reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers so she sat up with him. "But first... I think we've earned a little cuddle time." He tugged her close, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as he nestled her against his side.

Y/N nodded, snuggling closer to Dean's warm embrace. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Her fingers traced idle patterns on his abdomen, enjoying the feel of his skin under her touch. Y/N nodded, snuggling closer to Dean's warm embrace. She rested her head on his chest as he threw the blanket over them, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

Her fingers traced idle patterns on his abdomen, enjoying the feel of his skin under her touch. Her eyes glanced over to food he brought early that was resting on the table and the large cookie on the nightstand. “So….about that food…”

____________________________________________

The next morning, the trio found themselves at the hospital again after finding out about another attack, one casualty and one survivor. They were decked out again in their suits and ties, pacing down the halls. The brothers walked side by side to Y/N. Her eye caught wind of a few deputies, yanking them both to the receptionist desk.

The brothers stumbled slightly at the abrupt force but composed themselves quickly, turning to conceal themselves. They were now casually leaning on the desk as the deputies walked by. Once the police were out of sight, they exchanged nods before proceeding back to the hospital room of the victim, Julie Watson. Sam kept glancing over his shoulder, making sure the cops didn’t suspect them.

Once they found the room, they came upon Dr. Garrison trying to aid a hysterical Julie, the blonde woman sobbing and pleading to leave. “Please, please” Julie pleaded, “Hey, shh, shh. We need to observe you. The drugs may be in your system” Dr. Garrison said gently, his hands on her shoulder.

The brothers shared a look as they watched the woman sobbing, Sam felt an instant pang in his heart for the woman. His first instinct was to approach her but Y/N held up a hand, telling him to stay back, a deep frown of pity on her face towards the grieving and traumatized woman. “I have to go, I have things to do. Arrangements I need to make”

“It can wait. Now you need to rest” Dr. Garrison insisted calmly. “Stay. I’ll be back in a few minutes” He advised her, turning to walk out of the room. His eyes connected with Y/N’s, a deep sigh escaping him. “Detectives” Dr. Garrison greeted the trio as he stuffed his hands into his coat pocket. “Dr. Garrison” Dean greeted back, his eyes shifting between the doctor and his patient. “What the hell’s going on here? My whole town’s going insane”

Dr. Garrison shook his head, his shoulders slumped forward, the exhaustion evident on his features. “We’ll let you know as soon as we do” Y/N replied kindly, offering the man a small tight smile. Her sympathy towards the doctor was clear as she responded, and Dr. Garrison returned a tired smile, rubbing a hand over his face, “I’m afraid my patient is becoming difficult. Can you help me talk to her please? Maybe as a female figure, she might respond to you”

“Course, anything to help” Y/N nodded firmly, Dr. Garrison seemed grateful before wordlessly stepping out of the room. Y/N and the boys then stepped in, cautiously approaching the distraught woman. Julie was trembling and looked like she was fighting a losing battle with her own emotions. She sniffled and wiped her tear-streaked face as she saw the three approach her. “Mrs. Watson? Hi” Dean greeted her, reaching into his jacket along with Sam and Y/N to pull out their badges.

“We just need to ask you a few questions,” He added. “Do we have to go over this again? Now?” Julie hiccupped. The brothers nodded, putting their badges away. “We’ll try to be brief” Sam assured her gently as Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, taking a hold of Julie’s hand in hers, while the boys remained standing behind her. “Mrs. Watson, can you tell us how you got away?”

Julie’s bottom lip quivered even more as fresh tears gathered in her eyes, “l didn’t eat as much as KEN did so I wasn’t as out of it” She began, letting out a shaky sigh as she looked from one hunter to the other. “And when the old woman was…” She hiccuped, glancing down at her hand in Y/N’s, her grip tightening around the psychic’s hand.

Y/N’s hand rubbed soothingly over her hand, her own heart clenching in her chest. “It’s okay, honey. Take your time.” Y/N urged her softly, Julie shut her eyes tightly, sucking in a deep breath as she tried to compose herself. “When the old woman was what?” Y/N prompted gently, placing a hand over Julie’s that was gripping her own.

“..when she was carving up Ken, I shoved her and she fell. Cracked her head on the stove” Julie finally forced out, another sob leaving her chest. The brothers exchanged a solemn look, Dean’s jaw clenched. “She’s dead, right? I killed her?”

They all exchanged solemn looks, Y/N turning to the Winchesters before nodding in confirmation to Julie’s question. “Do you have any idea why she would do this to you?” Dean questioned gently, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Julie shook her head frantically, her fingers digging into Y/N’s hand, “No. One minute, she’s just a sweet old lady and the next, she was like a monster” Dean furrowed his brow along with Y/N at Julie’s story.

“Can you remember anything else?” Sam butted in. “Um..yeah” Julie glanced down at her and Y/N’s hands again, sniffling. “Did you find a little girl there by any chance?” She asked them. “A little girl? At the house” Sam asked, looking between Dean and Y/N. They shared an equally confused expression, wondering where this was going.

“I thought I saw her outside the window. She- she just disappeared. Just..vanished into thin air” Julie informed them, taking her hand off of Y/N’s so she can wipe her nose. “Must’ve been the drugs” Y/N’s furrowed her brows at Julie’s words, her gaze flickered behind her, between the boys. They were all thinking the same thing. A spirit. A vengeful one.

“This disappearing girl, what did she look like?” Dean questioned. “Does it matter?” Julie asked. “Yes, every detail matters” Y/N insisted, nodding. Julie sighed before thinking back, “Um…she had this dark, dark hair and really pale skin. She was around 8” She made eye contact with Y/N, “She was a beautiful child. It was…of to see her in the middle of something so horrible” Julie began to sob into her hands again.

The trio shared another look, something akin to a plan forming in their minds. “Thank you for your time, Ma’am” Sam nodded to her kindly before looking towards Dean and Y/N to follow him out of the room, the three gathered in the hallway right outside.

____________________________________________

Now at the scene of the crime, they all changed out of their suits, in their usual outfits now. Sam scanned the house with the EMF meter while Y/N trailed her hands along the edge of a window still, a gaping hollow feeling filling her body. “Well, there’s no sulfur anywhere. How about the EMF?” Dean asked Sam from the kitchen. “There’s definitely some, but it’s faint” Sam answered.

Dean entered the room, his eyes roaming around, noting nothing suspicious at first sight. “Bring it over here” Y/N gestured with her hand, opening her eyes as she opened at the window still. Sam approached her, holding the EMF meter right next to the window. The meter began to screech loudly, beeping more rapid and frantic, the meter confirming the presence of a spirit. Dean chuckled to himself, “Gotta love that ESP” He smirked as he wiggled his eyebrows at Y/N.

She scowled playfully in return as Sam snickered, flipping them both off. "Eat a rag" she quipped before shutting her eyes again, trying to see if she could connect to anything. The brothers watch her, waiting for her to communicate with the spirit. But Y/N's face scrunched up, a frustrated sigh leaving her. "I can see her, I can get glimpses." She said, her eyes opening up again.

"Not enough to connect and get information?" Sam inquired. Y/N shook her head, her shoulders slumping defeatedly. “It’s most intense by the window, there was definitely a spirit here” She confirmed, pushing herself up to her feet before dusting her hands off. “So we’ve got the spirit of a little girl who stood outside the crime scene and watched?” Dean commented, Sam and Y/N shrugged in return, “Looks like” Sam said as he shut the EMF meter off.

“What the fuck do you make of that?” Dean asked, Sam and Y/N shared a look, having had a conversation about the crimes when Dean was taking forever in the bathroom at the motel. “Actually, we do have a theory. Uh- sorta” Sam responded as he rubbed the back of his neck. Dean’s brows furrowed, his curiosity piqued. "Hit me" He was intrigued, arms crossing his chests as he rocked back on his heels. “Well, we’re thinking about fairytales” Y/N began.

Dean’s head shot up, “Oh, that’s- That’s nice” Dean snorted, placing his hands on his hips. “You two think about fairytales all the time?” He teased them. “No, charming, not like that” Y/N sighed, Sam rolling his eyes at Dean, he knew his brother would not make the case easier. “Dean, we’re talking about the murders” Sam answered for her, taking over.

“A guy and a girl hiking through the woods, an old lady tries to eat ‘em. That’s Hansel and Gretel. And then we got three brothers arguing over how to build houses and then attacked by the big bad wolf” Sam explained as he picked up his jacket from the couch. Dean’s face took a moment to process these words Sam had just spoken before the realization dawned on him, “Three little pigs?”

“Yeah” Y/N nodded as she put on her own jacket after taking it from Dean’s extended hand. “Actually, those guys were a little chubby,” Dean commented with amusement. “Not the point, smartass” Y/N playfully flicked the bottom of his chin in retaliation to his sass. Dean smirked mischievously, raising an eyebrow at her.

Sam’s eyes flickered between them, shaking his head. “Oh, wait. I thought those things ended with everybody living happily ever after?” Dean asked as he padded over to the window still, peeling the curtain back slightly. "No, no, not the originals" Y/N corrected him as she too headed to the table, picking up Dean’s duffel bag to sling it over her shoulder, Sam nodded in agreement as he pulled his phone out from his pocket after it vibrated.

“See, the Grimm brothers’ stuff was kind of like folklore of its day. Full of sex, violence, cannibalism” She explained. "Yeah, and then it got sanitized over the years, turned into Disney flicks and bedtime stories” Sam chimed in as he responded to his girlfriend's text message before stuffing the phone into his pocket and stuffing his jacket on. Dean’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, letting the curtain fall back into place turning around to face them once again.

“So you think the murders are, uh, what’s a reenactment? That’s a little crazy” Dean said, tilting his head at them as Y/N placed her foot up on the table to tie her laces. “Crazy as what? Everyday of our lives?” Y/N shot back, Sam snorted in agreement. Dean chuckled lightly and shook his head at them. "Touché" he conceded. "How’s a creepy ghost girl involved?" He voiced his thoughts aloud.

Sam frowned as he zipped his bag up on the table, “Um, well, she must’ve been here for a reason. I’m willing to bet you top dollar she was at the construction site too” he said, Dean internally groaned, looking between his brother and girlfriend. “We gotta do research now, don’t we?” Y/N looked up from tying her shoelace to playfully smirk at Dean.

“You say that like it's a bad thing" she teased, Sam holding back his chuckle, earning a glare from Dean. “Nerds,” Dean scoffed, taking the duffel bag from her as she placed her foot back onto the ground. Y/N rolled her eyes at Dean's comment, her hands finding her hips. "Excuse me, who's been reading romance novels all week?” She shot back, Sam bursted out laughing at the revelation.

Dean pointed a finger at her, a mixture of amusement and annoyance on his face. "That is a low blow" he defended weakly with a grumble, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as Sam continued to laugh. “Burn!” The younger Winchester exclaimed between laughs, lifting his hand up to high-five Y/N.

Y/N gladly high-fived Sam, both of them chuckling at Dean's expense as he grabbed his keys, glaring at the pair but there was no real heat behind it. "Yeah, yeah, it up, chuckleheads” he grumbled, Y/N playfully pouted as she wrapped her arm around her boyfriend’s waist, the three now leaving the crime scene.

-

Hours later, Dean shoved the door open to the Cumberland County Central Library as Sam and Y/N waited outside. Upon seeing him, they both perked up. “So?” They asked expectantly in unison as Y/N flicked her burnt out cigarette bud into the trash can. “Checked every record they had. Found the usual amount of violent childhood deaths for a town this size” He began, the two trailing behind him.

“Okay” Y/N mumbled, stuffing her hands into her leather jacket’s pocket. “Know how many were little girls with black hair and pale skin?” Sam and Y/N recognized that tone, “Zero” They answered in unison as Dean nodded in confirmation. “You wanna know how many were little girls with black hair and pale skin that have gone missing? -Right again: Zip, zilch, nada”

Sam and Y/N shared a look, a bit discouraged at that piece of information. "Tell me you’ve got something good because I’ve totally wasted the last six hours” Dean complained as they walked across the street and into a woodsy area. “Well, you ever hear of Lillian Bailey? She was a British medium from the 1930s” Y/N asked him. “She got a thing for fairytales?”

They chuckled in amusement, “No, trances” Sam informed him, “See, she would go into these unconscious states where, um. Get this: her thoughts and actions were completely controlled by spirits” He explained, “The ghost Puppet Master” Dean pursed his lips, “Yeah” Y/N nodded, “Think that’s what this kid is doing? Sending Wolfboy and Grandma into trances, making them go kill crazy?”

“Could be” Sam shrugged, “It could be kind of like a spirit hypnosis or something” Y/N suggested, all continuing down the trail. “Look, trances I get, but fairy-tale trances? That’s bizarre even for us” Dean shook his head. They all came to a halt in their steps when they heard a frog croaking, their heads simultaneously lowering to the ground to see a toad.

Dean scrunched his nose at the sight of the little creature, the toad ribbitted loudly at him. “Yeah, you’re right. That’s completely normal.” Sam deadpanned with sarcasm, as Y/N shot Dean the classic Winchester bitchface in her own form, her hands resting in her hips.

“Alright, maybe it is fairytales. Totally fucked-up fairy tales” Dean responded in defeat, tilting his head at the frog. “I’ll tell you one thing though, there’s no way I’m kissing a damn frog” Y/N gave him a cheeky smile, her eyes playful. "Not even a little peck?" She teased. Dean made a face at the suggestion, but a smirk was tugging at the corners of his mouth. Sam groaned, rolling his eyes and mumbling under his breath. "Please don't encourage him," he implored.

The couple chuckled as Y/N eyes flickered across the street, her eyes catching a pumpkin that was sitting on the porch of a house. “Hey, fellas. Check that out” She pointed to the pumpkin. Dean and Sam’s eyes followed the direction where she was pointing to, curious. “Yeah? It’s close to Halloween” Dean asked with his eyebrow raised.

Sam caught on, shaking his head. “You remember Cinderella? With the pumpkin that turns into a coach and the nice that become horses” Sam told him as a mouse ran across the porch. Dean’s eyes held horror, his head slowly peering over to the duo. “Dude, could you two be more pansies?” Y/N rolled her eyes at him, her hand finding her hip once more.

“Could you be less of a jackass?” She retorted, not missing a beat. Sam chuckled beside her, earning a playful glare from Dean. Dean put his hands up in surrender. "Just saying," he said with a shrug, "We got a possible Three Little Pigs scene, a Hansel and Gretel case, and now we've got a Cinderella deal" Y/N added, her fingers curling into the sleeves of her jacket.

"Next we're gonna have Snow fuckin’ White" Dean mumbled, causing both of them to chuckle.

-

After picking the lock to the house, Y/N rose from her knees, allowing Dean to stretch next to her and open the door. The trio peered in simultaneously, their eyes darting around the eerily quiet house, “Well who knows, maybe you’ll find your fairy godmother” Dean mused, chuckling as he smiled widely at Y/N and Sam. The duo side eyed the elder Winchester, choosing to ignore his comment as they stepped into the house.

The three fanned out, cautiously peering around every corner to search the place. The sound of a creaking in the house caused them to look at each other with suspicion. All pulling out their guns from their jackets in perfect unison. "This is the beginning to a bad, low budget horror movie" Sam mumbled, his eyes flickering around the seemingly empty house.

Y/N bit back a chuckle, but couldn't help the slight smirk forming on her lips at the comment. "Yeah, or an episode of Scooby-Doo" She chimed in. Dean let out an amused scoff. Another sound of clatter drew their attention to the kitchen, Dean jerked his head towards it. Pointing firmly, “Help, I’m in here” The sound of a woman’s terrified voice garnered their attention.

The three of them made their way to the kitchen, guns raised once again, the young woman coming into their view. She was battered, bruised and cuffed to a drawer handle, Sam and Y/N immediately dropped to the floor, the huntress digging into her hair to take out her pin. “Hey, hey. Don’t worry, it’s okay.” Sam assured the beaten girl, “You have to help me, she’s a lunatic” The girl sobbed as Y/N began picking the lock to her handcuffs. “What happened, sweetie?” She asked her gently.

“My stepmom, she just freaked out, screamed at me, beat me, chained me up” The young woman croaked, tears running down her battered face. “Where is she now?” Dean asked firmly, he could’ve sworn he saw a little girl peering from the other room at the corner of his eye. “I don’t know” Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed together, her hand still working on the cuffs. "Sam. Y/N” Dean kept his eyes on the little girl, indicating to Sam and Y/N of her appearance.

The trio’s eyes widened, “That’s her” Y/N informed them, recognizing the girl from her visions back at the house. Dean nodded before pushing himself up, following behind the girl. The little girl seemed to float away, Dean’s feet quickening their pace after her. “Hey!” He called, reaching out his hand to try to grab her but he fell straight through her. “Dammit” He cursed to himself, sprinting after her once more, only to get the same outcome.

He stopped in his tracks when he heard the floor boards creaking behind him, spinning around to meet eyes with the little girl. Her red hair hand placed neatly at the top of her head, pulling back her dark hair. Her white flowy dress made her seem more eerily, “Who are you?” Dean asked calmly but the little girl didn’t answer. Her blue eyes pierced his green ones with intensity, fear and almost desperation.

Her spirit simply flickered, leaving a bright red apple on the floor in her place. Dean’s expression twisted in confusion and suspicion as the little girl vanished. He knelt down to pick it up, examining it in his hand.

Sam and Y/N were too busy with the girl in the kitchen to notice that Dean had wandered off, their attention solely focused on the abused young woman.

-

“Paramedics picked up Cinderella” Sam told his brother as he and Y/N reapproached the Impala, Dean was still leaning against the hood, his gaze trapped on the Apple in his hand. “That’s good” He sighed in response, before tossing the apple for Y/N to catch. “So little girl, shiny red apple. I’m guessing that means something to you, fairytale boy and girl” Dean half-joked.

Y/N’s hand caught the apple, her eyebrows furrowing together in thought, "We think it’s Snow White." she said, looking over to Sam, "You remember? The wicked queen gave Snow White a poisoned, red apple?" Her fingers gripped the fruit in her hand and she leaned against the Impala, right next to Dean. Dean nodded, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Snow White? Aw, i saw that movie” He responded, “Well, the porn version anyways” He smirked as a disgusted look appeared on the younger Winchester’s face and Y/N rolled her eyes. Dean pushed himself up from the Impala, opening the passenger side for Y/N as he spoke, “There was this wicked stepmother, phew. She was wicked” He said skittishly as he made his way over to the driver's side door.

Sam ignored his comment, bracing his arms at the top of the Impala at the back right side. “There is a wicked stepmother and she tries to kill Snow White with a poisoned apple.” He informed his older brother as Y/N tossed him the apple. Sam caught the apple, his fingers curling around the fruit’s surface. "And then the step-mom disguises herself as an old woman and offers Snow White the poison apple." He added, eyeing the red fruit with intrigue.

Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam, "But the Apple doesn’t actually kill the girl, right?” Y/N shook her head at Dean’s question. “Nope, puts her into a deep sleep. So deep it’s almost like she’s dead" Y/N responded, “See, I knew you remembered” She half-joked. Dean rolled his eyes, but a smirk managed to find its way on his lips. "Yeah, yeah, whatever" He replied as they all hopped into the Impala.

____________________________________________

Now back at the hospital, “No, sorry. We don’t have any comatose little girls” The receptionist informed them, “Are you sure?” Sam asked as Y/N frowned. “Totally. It’s mostly old guys” The receptionist assured them, “And, well, Callie. She’s been around since before I started here” she added, earning intrigued looks from the trio. “Callie?” Dean asked, “Yeah, it’s so sad” The receptionist said sympathetically.

“And poor Dr. Garrison, he just won’t give up on her” This made Y/N cross her arms over her chest. “Was Callie one of his patients?” She asked, curiously. “No, his daughter” The receptionist told them, they all shared looks that said, ‘Worth a shot’ before thanking her and excusing themselves.

-

They found themselves in Callie’s hospital room where Dr. Garrison was reading a fully grown and comatose Callie ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ from ‘The Brothers Grimm’ Book. “The huntsman stepped inside and in the bed lay the wolf. So the huntsman took a pair of scissors and cut open the wolf's belly” Dr. Garrison read. The trio shared looks of horror as the doctor’s eyes flickered up to them.

He closed the book before laying the cloth bookmark in its place, taking off his glasses. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to his daughter’s forehead before making his way over to the three, clearing his throat. “Detectives, can I help you?” Dr. Harrison greeted them politely. “We just heard that Callie is your daughter” Dean began, “And we wanted to say how very sorry we are” Sam added sympathetically.

Dr. Garrison rubbed his eye in frustration, his expression weary as he nodded in acknowledgment, “Well, um, thank you” He breathed, a beat of silence stretching between them before he spoke once more, “If you’ll excuse me” He attempted to make his exit, passing through the space between Dean and Y/N. Dean stepped out of the way for the doctor, his gaze watching the dejected man walk away, an expression of pity on his face.

“Oh, well we’re headed this way, we’ll walk with you” Y/N said casually as they all walked beside the doctor. “How long has Callie been like that?” she asked, trying to keep a tone of sincerity so she didn’t sound too nosey. Sam shot her a look, since her tone didn’t help much and indeed did sound nosey as hell. “We don’t mean to intrude, we can’t possibly know how hard it must be for you seeing her like this” Sam assured Dr. Garrison.

Dr. Garrison gave Sam another nod of appreciation before turning to Dean, “Yeah, it’s not easy” Dr. Garrison sighed, his back turned to Sam and Y/N. The younger Winchester took the opportunity to give his Y/N a smack to the back of the head along with a look that said, ‘Really, dude? Really?’

Y/N let out a silent hiss of pain, rubbing the spot where Sam had smacked her, “Dipshit” She muttered under her breath, a small pout forming on her lips. Dean suppressed the urge to laugh. “She’s, uh, been here since she was 8 years old” Dr. Garrison told them as they began walking again, “That’s when she was poisoned?” Sam asked, “Yes, swallowed bleach,” Dr. Garrison confirmed. “Never figure out how she got her hands on the bottle. My wife found her, brought her to the ER. Here, I was on call”

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed in concern, his demeanor becoming more serious. Sam and Y/N took a moment to process the information, “Your wife was, uh-? Was that Callie’s stepmother?” Dean asked, Dr. Garrison’s eyes glanced over to Dean with surprise, stopping in his tracks. Everyone came to a halt as the doctor’s eyes flickered between them all, “Actually, yes. How’d you know that?”

“Lucky guess” Y/N came to Dean’s rescue, Dr. Garrison nodded hesitantly, seemingly taking the bait. “Julie was the only mother that, uh, Callie ever knew” Dr. Garrison’s tone was solemn as he stuck his hands into his labcoat’s pockets. Sam and Y/N narrowed their eyes, sharing a look as they mentally put two and two together. “My wife passed away last year and, uh…it’s just my daughter and me now” Dr. Garrison’s voice broke as though he was holding back tears. “She’s all I got left”

A sympathy coursed through Y/N and Sam's veins and Dean's eyes softened a bit. Dr. Garrison cleared his throat, “Um, excuse me, I’ve gotta get back to work” Dr. Garrison excused himself, checking his watch. The trio of hunters watched as Dr. Garrison walked away, heading back towards Callie’s room, “Well, you guys were right. It’s Snow White in spades” Dean said as he shoved his hands into his pockets. They all turned on their heels, headed in the other direction.

“Yup. Stepmom poisons the girl, puts her into a deep sleep.” Sam nodded in agreement. “What’s the motive, you think?” Y/N chimed in between them. “Could he like Mischa Barton, Sixth Sense. Not the O.C” Dean shrugged. “What?” Sam asked, beyond confused. “Hey, we know fairytales, he knows movies” Y/N snorted, nudging her boyfriend to continue explaining. He shot her a sly wink in return, “She played the pasty ghost. You know, remember the mom had that thing where you know, uh, you keep the kid sick so you get all the attention?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. Uh…” Sam nodded in recognition, “Münchausen syndrome by proxy. Huh, could be” He agreed, “So say all these years, Callie’s been suffering silently because nobody knows the truth about what Mommy Dearest did” Y/N began, “And after all this time, her spirit just gets angrier and angrier until it finally just starts lashing out” Sam added as they reached the building’s paramedic entrance. “Meanwhile, she has to listen to Dad tell her all these deranged stories about a rabid wolf or a cannibalistic old lady, it’s enough to drive anybody nuts” Dean chimed in.

“Okay, but how are we gonna stop her? I mean, Callie’s stuck here. Her father’s keeping her body alive” Y/N questioned out loud. “It does make it a bit hard to burn the bones” Dean muttered, “Ya think?” Sam shot back sarcastically. “Coming in” a paramedic’s voice boomed through the sliding door as two EMTs wheeled in a gurney with an old woman’s feeble and beaten body on it. “Hey, what’s the status?” A doctor asked urgently as the three watched on.

“Seventy-two-year-old female. Sustained multiple lacerations and puncture wounds. BP is 80/40 and falling. Sinus tachycardia” The EMT informed them as the three followed behind them at a distance to hear what they were saying, “is that a…bite?” A doctor gasped, checking the side of the elderly woman’s blood soaked wrinkly neck. “Looks like she was mauled by a mad dog or maybe a wolf” The EMT suggested.

Dean instantly recognized it, “What was the last story Dr. Garrison was reading Callie?” He asked Sam and Y/N. “Little Red Riding Hood” They responded in unison, sharing wide eyed looks in realization. Their hearts pummeled when the elder woman’s pulse dropped, the doctor declaring the time of death in the process.

-

“Excuse me.” They all approached the paramedic who wheeled the old woman in after a few minutes when he was making his report of the death, flashing him their fake badges. “Was she the only victim?” Y/N asked as they pocketed their badges, “she was found by the side of the road, barely alive. Alone” The EMT sighed, “We need to find her next of kin” Dean said urgently, the EMT nodded, flipping through the file in his hands. “Uh, she has a granddaughter” he informed them

“Do you have an address?” Y/N asked quickly, the EMT gave it to her without hesitation. She instantly snatched it away from him, “Thank you” she said gratefully as Dean peered over her shoulder, following behind her. “Thanks” Sam thanked the EMT. Dean took the paper from Y/N’s hand, “Okay, you guys find a way to stop Callie, alright?” He gently ordered them, “What about you?” Sam asked, furrowing his brows, “I’m gonna go stop the big bad wolf” He said firmly, earning a raised brow from his girlfriend and brother.

“Which is about the weirdest thing I’ve ever said” he scoffed, “No it ain’t” Y/N smirked, a glint of worry in her eyes. Dean noticed the look of concern in her facial features as they all stood together. “Be safe,” she said seriously. A charming smile made its way onto Dean’s lips, his green eyes flickering over to her, “Ditto” he responded as he watched her roll her eyes at his typical response. He leaned down to press his lips to hers. Sam averted his gaze, giving them privacy for a moment, suddenly finding the coat rack at the corner of the hallway interesting.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut as Dean’s lips touched hers, their kiss sweet and brief. Dean pulled away, his eyes locked on Y/N’s, “I love you” he whispered against her lips. Her eyes reopened, a tender expression on her face as she looked into his eyes, “Ditto” Y/N murmured back, a subtle smile on her lips. Dean gave her one last lingering glance before forcing himself to pull away from her and head out the automatic hospital doors.

-

It had been about 15 minutes since Dean left, Sam and Y/N had been looking for Dr. Garrison since. Finally stumbling upon him in the east wing, the two hunters began jogging towards him. “Dr. Garrison, we need to speak with you” Sam said urgently. Dr. Garrison turned as they both approached him, a tired expression on his face. “Yes, detectives, what can I do for you this time?” He inquired, folding his arms across his chest.

Sam and Y/N shared a nervous glance, “Well, um….It’s about Callie” Y/N said cautiously, fiddling with her thumbs as she interlocked her hands. Dr. Garrison's tired expression turned to one of concern, "My daughter? What about her?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowing in worry as he took off his reading glasses.

“You know, maybe- maybe we could sit down for a minute” Sam suggested calmly, shoving his hands into his pockets to ease his nerves. “No, what about her?” Dr. Garrison insisted firmly. Y/N took a shaky breath, the anxiety in the air was tangible. Sam and Y/N shared another look, both knowing the information was going to hit Dr. Garrison like a ton of bricks. “Okay, well, um- doctor, this isn’t gonna be easy” Sam began. “But…what happened to Callie was not an accident”

“Excuse me?” The doctor scoffed, his face contorting with confusion and unease. “We’re sorry, but it’s true” Y/N tried to convince him gently, placing a hand up in surrender. “You two have no idea what happened to my daughter” With that, he began walking away but Sam and Y/N followed behind.

“There are things you don’t know, doctor- about your wife” Sam stated as they kept on walking behind him, “My wife?” Garrison scoffed, padding faster, “Doctor, your wife poisoned Callie” Y/N finally said, this made the doctor spin around and the two hunters to stop in their tracks. Garrison's face was filled with shock, anger and pain all at once, “Why would you say something so horrible to me?” he asked vehemently, his voice beginning to crack.

Y/N felt her heart drop in her chest but he needed to hear it, is what she convinced herself. “Because we need your help” Sam pleaded, “You two stay away from me and my daughter, you understand?” He pointed firmly at them before heading into Callie’s room. Their faces dropped, “Doctor, this isn’t- Please, if-“ But the door slammed in their faces. “Fuck” Y/N cursed as she stared at the closed door for a few moments.

A hand came up to rest on her shoulder, she looked up to find that it was Sam’s. “What do we do now?” he inquired, removing his hand and stuffing it into his jacket pocket. Y/N gave him a look that Sam immediately recognized, “Y/N/N, no-” She had already opened the door to Callie’s room, “Guess we’re doing it” Sam mumbled as Dr. Garrison’s head snapped up from his comatose daughter, his eyes hardening as Y/N trudged in with determination as Sam followed behind her.

“I’m calling security” Dr. Garrison spat, pointing a finger at the psychic, looking from the comatose teenager then back at them. He immediately headed for the phone but Sam quickly snatched it from his hands, causing him to flinch, “No, we don’t have time to do this gently” Y/N retorted firmly as if she was scolding a child, “If you don’t listen to us, more people are gonna get hurt. Because Callie is gonna hurt them” Sam added, matching Y/N’s tone.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dr. Garrison said in defiance, placing his hands on his hips. “You’re going to think we’re crazy but just understand us….Your daughter, Callie, is still here. She’s a spirit” Y/N explained. Dr. Garrison’s eyes dropped to the floor before shifting over to his daughter. He slowly made his way to her bed before sitting at the feet of the hospital bed, a look of despair on his face. “So you’ve seen her too?”

Sam and Y/N stood rooted to the floor for a handful of moments, eyes widened at the surprise of the question. Y/N cleared her throat, “You see her, too?” She asked cautiously as they inched closer to the father. Garrison nodded as his fingers found Callie’s hand on top of the bed comforter. “I’ve sensed her. Callie.” He began as he pushed himself up from her bed, “Her presence, her scent. I even saw her standing at the foot of my bed, but I never…” He blinked rapidly.

“…believed it. I thought I was dreaming- I-” his breathing increased. “It wasn’t a dream” Sam cut him off, burying his hands into his pockets as Y/N crossed her arms over her chest. “She looks like she did when she was 8. White dress. Red ribbon in her hair…she’s been trying to talk to you” Y/N said softly. The room filled with silence for a few moments as the doctor tried to process this new information- that he had been actually seeing his daughter.

He shook his head with a gentle scoff, “You’re not cops, are you?” He questioned, “No” Sam and Y/N answering in unison, both glancing down at Callie on the bed. “Then who are you?” They shared a look. “People who know a little bit about this kind of thing,” Sam answered hesitantly. “But what you said about my wife poisoning Callie, that-” Garrison tried to defend, “Sir. Callie told us” Y/N cut him off.

“What?” Garrison bit back. “But in so many words. But in her own way…she told us” Sam responded calmly as Dr. Garrison shook his head frantically. “My wife loved Callie! So how i- how is that possible?” Sam sighed deeply, “We don’t know, but it is” He said firmly. “It doesn’t make sense, we know. And I’m so, so sorry” Y/N’s voice was barely above a whisper as the doctor’s gaze lowered back to the girl on the bed.

“No. No, I don’t believe you. She wouldn’t-“ Garrison couldn’t finish the sentence as Y/N and Sam both felt their hearts ache for a father trying to deny his wife doing such a thing. “Look, Callie is killing people. She’s angry, she’s desperate because nobody will listen to her. So you have to listen to her” Sam insisted, pleading with Garrison, “Please….as her father…listen to your daughter.” Y/N said softly, extending her hand out towards the doctor.

Garrison stood there, frozen, as the two hunters stared hopefully at him, anticipating his answer. A moment of silence seemed to be an hour before the doctor broke it, “What- what do you need me to do?” His voice cracked, “I can help you, take my hand and I can sorta anchor you to see her” Y/N explained, Garrison glanced down at her outstretched hand, his hand slowly lifting to reach out.

Once he placed his palm in hers, Y/N guided him over to Callie’s bed, placing her free palm onto the crown of Callie’s head. “Don’t freak out” She closed her eyes, focusing her energy on connecting him to his daughter. Garrison began to feel a strong, yet gentle energy flow through his body, he looked panicked for a second before Y/N gently reassured him, “It’s okay, relax” Her eyes stayed close tightly but her hand stayed on Callie’s head.

“Call out to her” Y/N instructed, reopening her eyes, which shone white and the veins in both her arms ignited its usual blue light. Sam watched on in awe, the sight familiar but still so fascinating to him. Garrison nodded and shifted his gaze to his daughter, “Callie.” He called out tenderly, his heart swelling at the sound of her name rolling off of his tongue. “Callie, it’s Daddy, it’s me, Daddy” he breathed heavily as his hand tightened around Y/N’s.

His breath shuddered, “Is it true? Did Mommy do that to you?” The doctor began crying, using his free hand to place it on his daughter’s. Not letting go of Y/N’s. “I know I wasn’t listening before, but I’m listening now” Suddenly, there was a change to the room, the air felt lighter, like a presence was watching. Sam saw her at the corner of the room and Y/N felt her presence.

“Daddy’s here. Please honey, is there any way you can tell me?” Garrison pleaded with his daughter’s comatose body. “Doctor. Y/N” Sam’s voice broke through, their heads turned to him as he nodded to the corner of the room. Garrison spun around, his eyes landing on the spirit of his 8-year old daughter. Her white dress was radiant, her red ribbon tied perfectly in her hair, a sad smile gracing her lips.

Garrison’s hand slipped from Y/N’s, her veins and eyes reverting back to its usual color. “Is it true?” He asked his daughter, trying to keep his voice from falling. Callie’s spirit simply nodded as Y/N took her hand off of the crown of her comatose body’s head. Garrison’s knees wobbled, but he kept to his feet. He shook slightly, “Why did she….” His voice trailed off, he gulped hard as he kept his gaze focused on his daughter.

“Why did Mommy do this?” Callie’s expression saddened, her smile faltering as her dad pleaded for answers. Her little spirit lifted her hand up as if to point at someone, her father’s head spun to a picture above the bed. The photo of his wife and daughter, smiling and happy in a park. Sam and Y/N frowned deeply upon seeing the heartbroken look on Garrison’s face. “Oh, I’m so sorry, baby”

“But listen to me, you gotta stop what you’re doing, okay? You’re hurting people.” He pleaded with his daughter as he leaned forward, “I know everything now….I know the truth” His breathing shuddered again as Callie’s stare pierced into his soul, “It’s time for you to let go…..it’s time for me to let you go”

Y/N felt a sudden pain in her chest, it ached and made her breath hitch. She had seen the look on a parent’s face before, saying those words to their child, but she never thought that she’d see it happening in front of her. Garrison wiped his face, his mouth quivering as he tried to hold in his sobs. Her eyes connected with Sam’s, who wore a mirrored expression to hers as Dr. Harrison padded over to his daughter’s bed. He leaned down and placed a tearful kiss on her forehead.

Almost immediately, the EKG flatlined. The long solemn beep filling the room with dread, Sam and Y/N both watched on, holding back tears as the father pressed his face to his comatose daughter’s shoulder. His shoulders started to shake violently as he cried into her shoulder, his own hands coming up to clutch the edges of the thin hospital blanket.

Garrison spun around to face the direction his daughter’s spirit was, her image now gone as the heavy feeling on Y/N’s chest finally rolled off. Her body slumped as the air returned to her lungs, she felt a large hand on her back, steadying her. “She’s gone” Sam softly whispered, rubbing her back gently. “Yeah…she’s gone” Y/N repeated shakily, nodding her head slightly. The pair both stared at the weeping man clutching his deceased daughter’s body, the sound of his desperate sobs echoing through the room.

____________________________________________

Now in the reception area, Dean had made it back to the hospital after saving the little girl who had been kidnapped from her captive, once Callie passed, the trance she had her victims in broke. “And the girl’s okay?” Dr. Garrison asked Dean, who nodded in return. He was a bit beat up from the fight with the little girl’s capture but he’d live….for now, “So, it’s really over” Garrison sighed deeply.

“Yeah, all thanks to you” Sam responded. Garrison’s lips turned into a slight smile, “Callie was the most important thing in my life….but I should’ve let her go a long time ago” He admitted, “See you around, doc” Dean offered the doctor a half smile, “I sure hope not” Garrison responded with a half-joke before patting Dean on his shoulder and making his exit.

Y/N’s hand found Dean’s, her fingers intertwining with his as she felt a slight sting in her eyes. The events of the day took a toll on her, her energy was drained, she was tired and sad. Seeing a father lose his daughter was not something she wanted to be used too. “You know, what he said….that’s some good advice” Dean’s voice broke the silence.

Y/N raised a brow at her boyfriend’s insinuation as Sam scoffed, “Is that what you want us to do, Dean? Just let you go?” Dean didn’t dare to look either of them in the eye. With a scoff, Y/N pulled away from Dean, staring directly at him as he looked away, “Stop” She huffed in frustration, she was exhausted and definitely not in the mood to deal with his self-pity.

Dean’s eyes met with Y/N’s and then Sam’s. The trio didn’t say a word, so Dean simply trudged off, making his way to the exit of the hospital. Y/N’s jaw locked, eyes narrowing in irritation as she watched him walk away. She looked over at Sam, he met her gaze, as they both understood what the other was thinking. They both followed after Dean, walking at a brisk pace to catch up to his brisk form.

____________________________________________

Later that night, it was nearing midnight. Dean was swaddled into Y/N’s arms. His head nestled into the space where her neck and shoulder meet, his nose burying itself into the crook of her neck. Her eyes were shut, her breathing was low and steady, he could tell she was fast asleep by the way her body felt limp against his.

So she took the opportunity, gently prying herself away from him. Her movement was careful as she peeled herself away from his warmth, he stirred slightly. She froze in her spot but Dean fell back asleep, his arm over her spot in the bed. Y/N let out a breath of relief as she pulled the blanket up further to cover his naked form.

With as little noise as possible, she shoved her clothes onto her body and placed a kiss to his temple. A look of despair was on her face as she tiptoed over to his bag, retrieving the Colt. Y/N sighed to herself, her eyes on Dean’s sleeping form.

“I love you, charming”

With that and one last look at the man she loves over her shoulder, she walked cautiously to the door and quietly opened it before exiting. The hallway was dark but it was easy to spot Sam, he stood there in his usual clothes, already awaiting her. Y/N made her way over to him, closing the door behind her.

“Ready?” She asked as she came to stand next to him, her voice was low and hushed. Sam nodded at her, his lips thinning in determination, “Yeah” He responded, his hands shoved into his pockets. Y/N offered him a small smile, holding up the keys to the Impala she snaked from Dean’s bag before the pair started walking down the hall.

-

Sam knelt in the middle of a crossroads, a wooden box and its needed contents in one hand and a fake ID in his other. He took a deep breath, glancing up with Y/N who held the Colt firmly in her hand. The crossroads was dark but Y/N could make out the sound of crickets in the distant cornfield behind them and smell the rich earthy scent of dirt. She stood beside Sam, her nerves on high alert as he shut the box and stuck it into the hole. Using his hands to toss the gravel onto it, burying it into the hole.

Her ears strained to sense any sudden movement around her. Y/N’s free hand went to the bottom of the shirt she had borrowed from the man sleeping in the motel as she subconsciously gripped the white material tightly. Sam dusted his hands, sighing heavily as he stood up, their eyes darting to every corner of the crossroad. Suddenly, that burning feeling at the back of Y/N’s neck made her head snap in the direction of the present demon.

“Well, little Sammy Winchester and Y/N/N L/N. I’m touched” The female crossroad demon announced her presence, her eyes flashing red at the duo. Y/N’s grip on the gun tightened, hiding it behind her back. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to get a better look, “I mean, Dean’s been to see me twice but you two…” The crossroad demon chuckled, “I’ve never had the pleasure”

Sam’s gaze hardened with hatred directed to the crossroad demon who bore the contract to his brother’s soul. “What can I do for you Sam and Y/N?” The demon asked with a smirk as Y/N gritted her teeth, she made eye contact with Sam who nodded in agreement. Without hesitation, she raised the Colt, pointing it straight to the demon’s forehead. “You can beg for your life” Y/N quipped cockily.

The demon raised her hands in submission, her smirk never leaving her lips. “We were having such a nice conversation. Then you had to go and ruin the mood.” The demon purred, her eyes flickering from the barrel of the gun to Y/N’s face. “If I were you, I’d drop the wisecracks and start acting scared” Sam snapped back. The demon scoffed cockily, shaking her brunette head, “It's not my style” her eyes went back to the gun and over to the duo, “And that’s not the original Colt” she pointed out, smirking at them.

Y/N’s mouth formed a firm line as she and Sam’s confidence faltered. “Where did you get that?” She questioned as Y/N kept her weapon pointed at the demon. The two didn’t answer and their silence alone answered the question for them, “Ruby. Had to be” The demon shook her head, “She is such a pain in my ass” she scoffed as Sam and Y/N kept their narrowed eyes on her. “She’ll get what’s coming to her. You can count on it”

“That’s enough.” Y/N interrupted with pure venom in her tone, “We came here to make you an offer” The psychic stated, causing the demon to chuckle humorlessly. “You two are gonna make me an offer? That’s adorable” Y/N’s jaw locked as she inhaled deeply through her nose, “It’s in your best interest to hear us out” She replied evenly as Sam gave her a look from the corner of his eye, keeping his mouth shut.

The demon scoffed cockily once more but her confidence wavered, “Well then, let’s hear your offer” as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You can let Dean out of his deal right now.” Sam began, tilting his head as he shoved his hands into his pocket, “He lives, Y/N lives, I live, you live. Everyone goes home happy. Or…” Y/N cocked the gun, challenging the demon. “My sister is gonna put a bullet into your head, and you stop breathing. Permanently.”

The demon stared down the business end of the gun again, the smirk now slipping off her lips. “Well, that’s a tempting offer” She replied sarcastically. However, the duo caught the small look of hesitation etched on her face for a brief moment. “All this tough talk, I have to tell you, it’s not very convincing” She began walking around them but they circled in return, Y/N keeping the Colt aimed at the demon.

“I mean, come on guys. Do you even want to break the deal?” She chuckled, her back facing them, “What do you think?” Y/N spat, gritting her teeth again, a bad habit she couldn’t seem to break whenever she was angry. “I don’t know. Aren’t you tired of cleaning up Dean’s messes, Sam? And Y/N, aren’t you tired of dealing with that broken psyche of his?”

Y/N’s knuckles turned white, her grip on the gun tightening as she swallowed dryly, “Aren’t you tired of being bossed around like a snot-nosed little brother?” The demon taunted Sam before turning to Y/N. “And you,” she paused, her eyes meeting with Y/N’s wide angry ones.

“You’re fed up with being his caretaker, aren’t you? Making him soup when he’s sick, listening to his problems, putting his broken pieces back together. Yet he still treats you no better than your daddy did. Like a weak, broken, immature little girl. It’s exhausting, isn’t it?” The demon said with a look of mock-sympathy, a look that made the psychic’s skin crawl. Y/N’s jaw ticked, biting the inside of her cheek, both her and Sam struggling to control their facial expressions.

“Watch your mouth” Sam warned, “Admit it” The demon stepped towards them, “You two are here, going through the motions. But the truth is, you’ll be a tiny bit relieved when he’s gone” The demon insisted, “Shut up” Y/N warned, her finger hovering over the trigger. She shut her eyes, trying to ease her anger as Sam pulled her back slightly.

“No more desperate, sloppy, needy Dean. You can finally be free” The demon continued to taunt, “We said, SHUT UP!” Sam bellowed his patience breaking, the demon simply tilted her head with a smirk. “Huh. Doth protest too much if you ask me” She quipped, “Alright, I’ve had enough of your shit. You let my man out of his deal right now. Or so god help me, I will put a bullet into your skull” Y/N demanded, her tone dark and low.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but your man’s an adult. He made that deal of his own free will. Fair and square” The demon denied as she stepped around the two. The demon had a condescending smile plastered on her face as Y/N bit her bottom lip, trying to control her temper. “It’s ironclad” The demon smirked, her back turned to them. “Every deal can be broken” Sam scoffed as Y/N still held the gun in the demon’s direction.

“Not this one” The demon turned to face them once again, they refused the believe it. Desperation filling them. “Fine, then she’ll kill you. If you’re gone, so is the deal” Sam bluffed, but Y/N wasn’t bluffing about killing the demon. “Guess again” The demon smirked. Their faces dropped, “What?” They gasped in unison. “Sam, Y/N. I’m just a saleswoman. I got a boss like everybody. He holds the contact, not me.” The demon explained.

Their gazes remained hard, “He wants Dean’s soul, bad. And believe me, he’s not gonna let it go” She shook her head, “You’re bluffing” Y/N prayed to god she was right, “Am I?” The demon scoffed, the cocky look not leaving her face. “Shoot me, if it’ll get you off” She tempted them. “But the deal still holds. And when Dean’s time is up, he’s getting dragged into the pit”

“Then who’s your boss? Who holds the contract?” Sam demanded as Y/N lowered the gun, giving the demon some hope she’s getting out of there alive. “He’s not as cuddly as me, I can tell you that” The demon responded as Sam and Y/N’s rolled their eyes, “Who is he?” Y/N demanded, her nostrils flaring. “I can’t tell you” The demon shook her head, their eyes filled with anger again but they managed to keep a calm demeanor. “I’m sorry Sam and Y/N, but there’s no way out of this one…..Not this time”

The two exchanged a look, neither of them wanting to accept her answer but not knowing what else to do. They communicated with their eyes, Y/N raising her brow, ‘We gonna kill her?’ she asked in Winchesterarian.

Sam shrugged before nodding, practically saying, ‘Kill the bitch’

So, in a swift movement, Y/N raised the gun again and shot the demon in the middle of her forehead. The demon’s face fell slack, her eyes empty and glazed over as she fell to the ground. Silence blanketed the area. Y/N lowered the smoking gun, her face stone cold, no emotion or expression on it.

For some reason, she found herself itching for Maverick’s Dagger, the need to place her hand on that godforsaken and ‘destroyed’ knife growing on her again.

A guttural sound left the demon’s throat before a sulfuric smell filled the empty area, filling Sam’s nose, he grimaced in disapproval. His expression mirrored Y/N’s as the demon’s body twitched with an orange glow, his face as cold as ice.

____________________________________________

Author’s Note: Heyyyyyyy, heyyyy, how y’all doinnnn☺️ Hope everyone enjoyed it!❤️

I mentioned in my first author's note that it’s carnival season in my country and it made me wonder, where is everyone else from? It’s totally up to you buttt, why don’t you guys drop your flag/state??? I’d love get to know where all of my wonderful and loyal readers are based, just my way of feeling more connected with with everyone <3

I’ll go first🥰 I hail from the beautiful (and bacchanal filled💀) twin islands of Trinidad and Tobago🇹🇹

Sometimes I feel as if I’m the only Caribbean writer for Supernatural so I’d love to know if there are any other fellow Caribbean’s who share my love🫶

Anyways, enough rambling. I hope everyone is having an amazing February and you all had an amazinggg Valentine’s Day. Much love! See you in the next episode🥰

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

@juwu-theliciosa @magiccliopleurodon @nesnejwritings @karrah89 @whattheduckisupkyle

@iloveyou2mia @thelittlelightinthedarkness @lmhf1 @littletomboy2 @zigzoggy

@hey-its-zoe @modiddys-blog @thvxr @tommysaxes @cookiemonstermusic258 @elite4cekalyma

@ladykitana90 @strawberrykiwisdogog @barnes70stark

Xoxo

[averagepossumenjoyer]

"Tag nine people you want to get to know better" thing. (I'm not against such things, on the contrary, I would like more of them, I don't know, for some reason I've been very sociable lately.)

Tagged by: @macaron-jester

Favorite Color: Purple. It's always been purple. Idk why.

Currently Reading: "Five books of the lives, heroic deeds and sayings of Gargantua and his son Pantagruel". We are currently studying medieval literature in lectures, and I decided to start with this one from the whole list. But I like it and I didn't regret this decision at all. I think I'm going to be obsessed with medieval literature in the near future anyway, I think I'm going to be too interested in this topic the more I start studying it.

Last Song: Hush -- Deep Purple. It's been about an hour since I listened that song on my playlist, lol.

Last Movie: I watched a lot of movies during the holidays, but I remember that the last ones were "The Mask" and "Shrek the Third".

Last Series: Honestly, I'm not a fan of series just because I'm too lazy to watch them, although sometimes I really want to. But at the same time, I've often felt gusts of nostalgia lately and I've been watching some animated series because of the memories and the fact that they sometimes inspire me. "Adventure Time" was one of them.

Sweet, Savoury, Spicy: Sweet things can't be without savoury things, just as savoury things can't be without sweet things. They are complete opposites, but at the same time they exist in harmony. I can't choose one thing, I need this damn balance every day, sorry.

Craving: I usually don't eat for half a day, so when I get home, I'm ready to eat anything. But sometimes I think about cinnamon bun, garlic bread, or ciabatta. Or schnitzel with pickled cucumbers. Or about cranberries in sugar. I'm not picky about food.

Tea/Coffee: Once upon a time, I couldn't live without tea. Now I can't live without coffee.

Currently working on: That's where the fun begins. A comic that I plan to release either on October 31st or November 24th (I even thought about rescheduling it to December.). It's actually a long story, because I want to do it probably from 2021 or 2022, (I even have some kind of storyboard of some moments from then and one concept art or something like that. Actually, that's not all, there are more such things, it's just what I have access to now) but then I lacked the skills, 2023 was a big shock and disappointment for me, which caused me to be in a kind of stagnation for a long time, and in 2024 I may have recovered from that year, but I was just exhausted. I think this year I will finally create what I wanted and I will have to start in the near future to make it.

I'm currently making concepts for the main characters, and so far 3/8 of the main and minor ones are coming out. There are a lot more secondary characters as well as the main ones, but I can't show some of them in the way I would like. I can't post the finished part now because I want to show them all together.

Sometimes I open FL Studio, but for this I definitely need to catch the moment when some annoying melody starts playing in my head. A couple of days ago, I didn't have time to save that kind of the melody. But maybe I'll recreate it someday if I remember. I used to have a guitar and I could play the first half of "Killer Queen" before the chorus according to some tutorial. Basically, I'm just drawing, rather than doing music thing.

Beware of this, y'all, more than half of my subscribers! But I'm not insisting, I'm just suggesting.

@flowuraa @c00kietin @artsandstoriesandstuff @bvannn @owlthatnestslow @hyperiinked @lavendercheesecake @ridiculouslyaverageguy @tobyfoxfacts

rules: tag nine people you want to get to know better

Tagged by @indrid-hot - thanks a bunch!

Favorite Color: A nice, warm, sunny orange - but also honestly most other colors of the rainbow and then some.

Currently Reading: The Tevinter Nights Dragon Age short story collection.

Last Song: L'appuntamento - Ornella Vanoni

Last Movie: Ah, gosh. HM. I haven't watched anything that's not a TV show in a while. I semi-voluntarily caught the last fifteen minutes of Scrooged over the winter holidays I guess?

Last Series: Last series I watched any part of is, as always, "Emergency!" because I will never not be stuck in 70's paramedic hell. If we're talking new-to-me shows, a friend's making me watch Grey's Anatomy (early seasons) once a week, probably because observing my growing despair about the characters' poor life choices is fun. I don't even normally watch medical shows, and yet here we are lol

Sweet, Savoury, Spicy: Savory if I had to pick

Craving: Some good spaghetti with olive oil and obscene amounts of lightly toasted garlic.

Tea/Coffee: Yes please, lol

Currently working on: OH BOY WHAT A QUESTION.

Spinning: Gotland on my spindles (4-ply, one single per spindle, for funsies - except I accidentally mixed up which bits of fiber go with which single on which spindle, so that'll be fun to sort out...), 7oz/200g of red Merino on the wheel (for a crochet hat, followed by 9.5 oz of red and black Merino for a woven scarf). But also 24.5oz/700g of grey Merino. And cotton on the supported spindle. And I've got some laceweight viscose on the mini turkish spindle that I should really work on...

Crocheting: Half a dozen things, including a lacy collar that needs buttons and blocking, a gigantic star-shaped wrap-around shawl, an incredibly boring granny square top for my little sister, and too many others to count.

Art: The Emergency! tarot as the eternal never-ending WIP; I also have some Dragon Age Veilguard related plans revolving around the Grand Necropolis and irl Catacomb Saints and I'd love to get some DA-style tarot cards done for all my player characters.

Writing: I still have a couple unfinished fanfics that need another chapter, as well as two deeply self-indulgent OC/Emergency! crossovers that friends are making me write, and I also have some Dragon Age stuff in the works - though if anyone will ever see that is another question entirely.

Music: Practicing various stuff for LARP; also slowly chipping away at Hozier's Work Song because my partner asked nicely.

With no pressure, I will tag: @geminyde, @caseyscraftycorner, @swords-n-spindles, @alpacazappa, @rosesonneptune, @rose-of-pollux, @zooarchaeologyatdinner, @kalikatze aaaaand I can't decide on a 9th person to tag so whoever wants to do this: You're It!

[jellyvibes710]

A year progress (or two, I’ve lost track)

I know I’m two months late since the new year but thank you all so much for reading my comics!

I have a few plans for the future and one of them is I’m going to rewrite “little baby blue” I never fully planned it out before I had jumped into it, the story had a lot of plot holes and it was hard to follow with how frequently it’d jump between parts. It’s not dead! After I finish the “parasite” storyline little baby blue will be set in motion again

The next part in the parasite story is planned to be animated with voice actors and sound effects, it’s a big project I am very excited for! Hopefully, if all goes well, there will be 2 fully voiced and animated parts for the whole series

Last project is still a secret, I’ve been working on it for about 2 years now(I took a short break because of turtles XD), it’s not a tmnt story but it’s an eddsworld story, I won’t bore you guys with those details though

The two newest drawings of Donnie and Leo are from a rough draft story I’ve been considering working on again, the twins are stuck in a loop that was caused after a battle with some bad guys goes bad, after Donnie was able to secure one of the bad guys he doesn’t realize that their battle had caused the building to start collapsing, Leo was able to portal himself and kick Dee out into safety but wasn’t able to get himself or the pinned criminal out in time and ultimately loses his life when the building caved in on him. The villains buddy uses an artifact (that they were stealing) in an attempt to save his buddies life but ultimately trapped themselves and the twins into a time loop, they eventually have to work with the criminals to fix this problem they’ve gotten into. This story has no happy ending and is VERY dark. There is only one way to stop the time loop and Donnie isn’t sure he can go through with it. Cheesy I know but I’m a sucker for a good time loop story, plus it was planned to be a very short comic

Just in case I do decide to pick that one back up I won’t put a lot of details or spoilers

Additional doodles under cut

Some screenshot redraws of Leo , I wanted to try out a few different color palettes and I really like how they look

My first time drawing big mama, I think I did good for only having one reference photo of her, though I learned that I can’t draw crop tops for the life of me 😆

[thebunnednun]

Cherry Blossoms

★Pairing:Aged up!Pro Hero!Boyfriend!Eijirou Kiirshima x Ex Yakuza!Girlfriend!Reader

Synopsis: It's Valentines Day and Eijirou's determined to give you the night day ever.

Warning: MDNI!!! Extreme Flirting/Fluff, suggestive themes, non sexual nudity, touching and kissing, undressing together, bathing together, Wc: long, No ageless blogs!

Make sure you read till the end! This is the 2nd installment of a Valentines day series. I also want to clarify that the pictures are to give inspo as to what your tattoos look like. They in no way shape or form are to indicate what you look like.

Update: Due to low likes but high reading volume, I replaced the original picture.

Taglist from both of my master lists because I need to feed the cats: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, @the-dumpster-fire-of-life, @raendarkfaerie, @bunny-b34r, @icey-wonders, @adherethecomingofage, @karaartioli-blog, @meoweoeoeosme, @faithisxreading, @faithisidking, @oh-kayyy-stan-bts, @shortie-chocolate, @rosaline756. @sweetlike-sugarplum. @aespie, @dancingqueen276, @erensbbg, @lillizxzz, @1chaerry,

@valscodblog, @willnetries

"Careful there bud."

You wake up, the familiar weight of the past pressing down on you before your mind fully catches up. Instinct kicks in before reason does—your fingers twitch, reaching beneath your pillow, brushing against the cool metal of the bat always tucked there. Just in case.

But something’s different.

The sheets are softer, the air warmer. The scent of something rich—coffee, maybe cinnamon—lingers in the air. You blink against the sunlight filtering in through the curtains, the disorienting comfort throwing you off balance. Your breathing evens out as your senses adjust, and that’s when you realize—you’re not in your old place.

You’re here. In a different home.

A safe one.

A Red Riot T-shirt hangs loose on your frame, his scent still clinging to the fabric, and the basketball shorts you borrowed (stole) sit comfortably on your hips. The room is quiet for a moment before you hear it—hushed, eager whispers from beyond the door, barely containing excitement.

"Ready gang?"

"Ready!" "Ready!"

And then, the door swings open.

Your little brother steps in first, grinning as he carefully balances a tray of food. The youngest follows, practically bouncing in place, waving a bundle of handmade cards. And standing behind them, hands full of flowers and the softest smile on his face, is Eijirou.

"Good morning, and happy valentines day beauty cool," he greets, stepping closer.

"We come bearing breakfast and affection!"

You exhale, pressing a hand over your heart, as relief melts into something warmer. 

They're here. They’re safe.

You’re safe.

"You little punks ate already, right?" you ask, quirking a brow as you sit up against the headboard.

"We did!" your little brother insists, setting the tray beside you. "But we saved the best for you!"

"And," the youngest pipes up, eyes alight with mischief, "Aunt Hatsume is watching us tonight so you and your boyfriend can go out!" Kirishima chuckles, rubbing the back of his head as he sits at the edge of the bed. "They’re really excited about it."

You cross your arms, tilting your head. "Oh, are they now?"

The boys nod eagerly before bolting off, already shouting about what they’re going to do with Hatsume. You watch them go before turning to Kirishima, suspicion laced in your voice. 

"Alright, Red, what do you have planned?" 

He grins, leaning in close to press a quick kiss to your cheek. 

"If I told you, it’d ruin the surprise. Just eat, sweets. I got everything covered."

You huff, rolling your eyes, but the warmth in your chest makes it impossible to fight the smile creeping onto your lips. You pick up your fork, letting yourself relax, because for the first time in forever—there's no need to rush.

The bedroom is something out of a dream, though you still don’t know if it’s yours yet. It’s too big, too pristine, too… safe. The king-sized bed swallows you whole, the sheets softer than anything you’ve ever owned. A massive window lets in golden morning light, casting warm patterns over sleek, modern furniture—definitely Eijirou’s style. The walls are decorated with framed photographs, small reminders of the life you’ve built, the people you love.

It’s lived-in now, a place that belongs to you and yours.

And right now, it's also full of boxes.

A ridiculous number of them, stacked on the floor, covering the bed, torn open in a frenzy. Dresses—some conservative, some flashy—spill out of tissue paper, their fabrics pooling over the sheets. Accessories glimmer inside sleek black boxes, while designer heels still wrapped in plastic sit in an organized row.

All because your boyfriend—your ridiculously sweet, overly thoughtful, and kind-hearted boyfriend—left his credit card on the nightstand with a simple note:

Get whatever you want, babe. Express shipping is covered. I Love You!<3

And well… you had.

Now, standing in the middle of the chaos, you sigh, rubbing your temples before calling out, 

"Eijirou!"

It takes less than five seconds.

A thump, followed by hurried footsteps, and then—there he is, appearing in the doorway like an excited puppy, all bright eyes and an eager grin. 

"Yeah, babe? You callin’ me?"

You look at him, taking in the sheer size of the man standing before you, all muscle and warmth, spiky red hair still damp from a shower. It always catches you off guard—how someone so big, so powerful, can be sweeter than sugar. How someone built like a college refrigerator has the grace and patience of a saint. 

How someone like him could be yours.

And for a moment, just a moment, you think about pouncing on him.

But you shake the thought away, lifting up the hem of the oversized T-shirt you’re wearing—his T-shirt. 

"Are we gonna be out in public?" you ask.

Kirishima blinks, clearly confused by the question. His gaze flicks down for a second, as if he’s just realizing what you’re wearing, before snapping back up to your face.

"Uh… yeah? Why?"

You nod toward the art decorating your body—the cherry blossoms trailing your back, curling over your hips and down your arms, the names inked onto your shoulders. His gaze softens immediately as he follows the intricate patterns, taking in every line and curve.

"Ah," he breathes, understanding settling in.

"Your ink."

"Yeah," you say, tugging the shirt back down. "People already get scared when they see me. I don't wanna deal with the whole ‘Oh no, it’s the Yakuza!’ thing today if I’m gonna be out with you. Especially if we’re gonna be photographed."

Eijirou frowns slightly, but not at you—at the thought of you feeling like you have to hide. He steps closer, reaching out, fingers brushing over your wrist, careful and warm. "Babe," he says, voice low, steady.

"We don’t have to go anywhere people are gonna make you uncomfortable. I just want you to have fun."

You huff, shaking your head. "I know that, Red, but it’s not just about me. If we’re out together, I don’t want people talking shit about you either. ‘Cause I swear, if some reporter tries to paint you as some underground criminal because of me, I’ll—"

"Heyy," he interrupts, grinning as he tilts your chin up. "Let ‘em talk. You think I care? I’d walk into any room with you on my arm and be proud as hell about it!"

Your chest tightens, heat crawling up your neck. 

‘Damn him.’

You roll your eyes, huffing. "That’s not the point."

"Maybe not," he says, teasing, "But it’s my point."

You shake your head, trying to fight the smile threatening to form.

"Just help me pick a damn dress."

Kirishima beams. "Yes, ma’am!"

The next thirty minutes are pure hell.

Dress after dress, outfit after outfit, you strut out of the walk-in closet like it’s a damn runway, each piece a different cut, color, and style. Some dresses hug and highlight your curves, others flow with soft elegance. Some show off your tattoos, leaving your ink fully visible, while others cover them completely.

And Eijirou?

He's having the time of his life.

"Okay, okay, that one is sexy as hell, sweets," he grins, arms crossed as he leans against the dresser. "But do you have shoes to match?"

You roll your eyes. "Of course I do."

Another dress.

"Shit, that one makes you look like royalty," he whistles. "You got jewelry for it?" You narrow your eyes.

"I—maybe. Shut up."

Another dress.

"Now that one is straight-up dangerous. I feel like I should be worried."

"You should always be worried."

It goes on like this—him hyping you up, making you twirl, asking about accessories, all while looking at you like you hung the damn moon. And honestly? It makes you a little too hot, a little too breathless, and after one final outfit change, the heat catches up to you.

"Alright, I need a break," you pant, swiping at your forehead.

Eijirou is already moving. He disappears for a second, then returns with a bottle of ice-cold water, cracking the cap open before pressing it into your hands. "Here, baby, drink."

You take a few gulps before sighing, and before you know it, you’re flopping onto the cool tile of the bathroom floor, flipping on the fan to full blast. 

"This is where I live now," you mutter. "I’m done. I stay here."

Eijirou chuckles, kneeling beside you. "Dramatic," he teases, before settling down too, long legs stretched out as he watches you. But when you crawl over and settle between his legs, resting against his chest, he doesn’t say anything. He just wraps his arms around you, warm and secure, like he was waiting for you to do just that.

You exhale, letting the cool air from the fan hit your face as he lifts the bottle of water back to your lips every few seconds, making sure you drink. 

And you let him.

For a while, you just sit like that, tangled together on the floor, talking about nothing and everything.

He tells you about a dumb joke Kaminari made that morning. You tell him about the time you nearly broke your pinky toe dropping an engine part on it. He snorts, rubbing circles into your back.

Eventually, your breathing slows, your body relaxes, and the heat fades.

And Eijirou, with all his warmth and patience, just holds you.

"Ei?" 

"Hm?" 

"Tell me a story, a good one." 

He chuckles, the sound deep and warm in his chest as he easily lifts you into his arms. 

"Ah, as my queen wishes," he teases, though there’s nothing but pure affection in his voice. You scoff and pinch his hip lightly, making him jolt and laugh harder, but he doesn’t waver as he carries you toward your bathroom.

The lights are dim, a soft golden glow flickering against the marble tiles. Kirishima nudges the door open with his foot, shifting you in his grip effortlessly. The room is already warm, the air thick with the scent of vanilla and something slightly musky—motor oil lingering from earlier. He sets you down on the edge of the tub, reaching over to twist the faucet. Water rushes in, steaming up the room as it fills.

“You went all out for this place,” you muse, glancing around at the massive soaking tub, the gleaming fixtures, and the ridiculous amount of space. It’s a far cry from the dingy apartments and makeshift homes you’ve known. Kirishima shrugs, kneeling down in front of you. 

"Only the best for my girl." His hands find your calves, thumbs tracing absentminded circles against your skin.

"Now, what kinda story do you want? Action? Comedy? Romance?"

He grins, showing just the slightest edge of those sharp pearly whites.

"I think we’re living that last one, though.~"

You roll your eyes but can’t fight the warmth spreading through you.

“I said something good,” you murmur, watching as he reaches up, calloused fingers brushing against your shoulders before he helps you out of the dress.

His movements are unhurried, careful. He treats the fabric with more gentleness than necessary, as if the dress itself is something delicate, something important just because it touched you. It pools around your waist for a moment before he lifts it away entirely, setting it aside.

“There,” he says, voice low, the heat in his gaze unmistakable, though he keeps himself in check. A true gentleman through and through. He runs a hand through his hair, his other brushing down your arm before resting against your back. “Now, in you go, Firecracker.”

You let him guide you, stepping into the bath and sinking into the warmth with a quiet sigh. The water laps at your skin, tension melting away as soon as you lean back against the curved edge. Kirishima follows soon after, sliding in behind you with ease, his arms bracketing you on either side as he settles in.

The weight of him, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers ghost up your arm before tangling with yours—it all feels so natural. So right.

“Alright,” he hums, squeezing your hand. “Once upon a time, there was this tough-as-nails, impossibly badass beautiful woman who could outfight, outdrive, and outthink just about anyone—”

You snort. “Wow, sounds familiar.”

“Oh, does it?” He chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your shoulder before continuing. “She was used to fighting her battles alone, always looking over her shoulder, making sure the people she cared about were safe. But then, one day, she met this guy—kinda big, spiky, maybe a little too loud—”

“You don’t say.”

“—and even though she tried to shake him, he stuck around,” he murmurs. His fingers trail along your arm, tracing the water droplets clinging to your skin.

“Because he saw her. Not just the tough exterior, not just the sharp edges, but all of her. And he wasn’t afraid.”

Your chest tightens, heart knocking against your ribs as you glance up at him. He meets your gaze with something so earnest, so devastatingly real, that you have to swallow down the lump in your throat.

“He loves her,” Kirishima says simply, his voice softer now. 

“Every part of her. The fire, the scars, the past, the future. Everything.”

You exhale slowly, squeezing his hand. 

“That’s a good story,” you whisper.

His smile is small but radiant, his free hand coming up to brush a damp strand of hair from your face. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs,

“This really is.”

Your chest feels tight, heat creeping up your neck at the weight of his words, at the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters. You don’t know what to do with all that emotion swirling inside you, so, like the absolute menace you are, you flick a handful of water right at his face.

Kirishima lets out a very undignified squeal—high-pitched and utterly uncharacteristic for a man as massive as him. He squirms around and you have to hold onto his knees as the water knocks about the tub. Your eyes go wide for half a second before you burst out laughing, nearly slipping under the water.

"Hey!" he sputters, shaking his head like a dog and sending water droplets flying. 

"Oh, you’re gonna regret that, Firecracker!"

You don’t, not even a little, grinning as he retaliates with a wave of water, drenching your face and shoulders. You shriek and splash him back, the two of you making an absolute mess of the pristine bathroom.

Right now, there’s no past, no future—just laughter, water sloshing, and the warmth of each other’s presence.

Eventually, Eijirou holds his hands up in surrender, still chuckling.

"Alright, alright, truce!" He snorts, pushing wet hair out of his eyes.

"Man, who knew my badass girl was such a menace?"

You smirk, wiping water from your face. "You should’ve known better."

"Oh, I do. But now I gotta ask—" he leans in, voice dropping to something softer, more familiar, more intimate—

"Can I wash your back?"

You blink at him, thrown off by the sudden shift. He’s still got that boyish grin, but there’s a tenderness in his expression, an unspoken promise behind the question. Your breath catches, and for a second, all you can do is nod.

Eijirou doesn’t hesitate, reaching for a bottle of body wash, pouring some into his palm before rubbing his hands together. Then, with deliberate, featherlight touches, he runs his hands over your shoulders, smoothing down your back in slow, careful strokes. His fingers trace over the curve of your spine, massaging out tension you didn’t even realize you were holding.

"You’re always so tense," he murmurs, pressing his thumbs gently into the knots near your shoulder blades.

"Occupational hazard," you quip, but your voice is softer now, your body already melting under his touch.

He hums in response, continuing his slow, methodical work, the only sounds in the bathroom now the occasional drip of water and your quiet exhales. It’s not just washing—it's care, it's reverence, it's him showing you with his hands what he’s already told you with his words.

And you let him. Because, with Eijirou, you don’t have to carry everything alone.

Kirishima hums, fingers still tracing slow circles into your back, the warm water lapping at your skin. Then, out of nowhere, he chuckles, his chest shaking lightly behind you. You tilt your head slightly, glancing back at him. 

"What’s so funny?"

Still grinning, he grabs a towel and folds it, placing it at the edge of the tub for you to lean on before smoothing his wet hands down your shoulders. "Just remembering the first time I went to the junkyard looking for you." You groan, already knowing where this is going. 

"Oh God."

He snickers. "I seriously thought you were a guy."

You roll your eyes, resting your chin on your arms. "Yeah, well, I had a bandana wrapped around my hair and neck, goggles, a mask, and a whole damn jumpsuit on. Anything remotely female was covered up."

"And you still managed to cuss me out like I ruined your whole week."

"You did!" You huff, shaking your head. "If the guys down there and Gramps hadn’t all but forced me to call you, I would’ve ignored your ass." Kirishima laughs, the sound deep and full of warmth. 

"Damn, so I really had to work for my shot, huh?"

"You still do."

"Oh, yeah?" His hands pause for a second, then he leans down, his breath warm against the back of your neck.

"Good thing I don’t mind putting in the effort, huh, Boss?"

You shiver slightly, not from the temperature but from the way his voice dips, how easily he makes simple words feel like promises. Still, you don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

Instead, you smirk.

"Damn right."

Eijirou grins against your skin before pressing a quick, barely-there kiss to your shoulder, his hands resuming their gentle work. And just like that, the tension in your muscles eases again, the familiar comfort of him settling in your bones.

He notices the way your lips twitch up, and his hands pause for just a second before resuming their gentle work against your back.

“What’s got you smiling like that, pretty girl?”

You shake your head, letting out a quiet chuckle. “Just remembering the first time I met you.”

Eijirou grins. “Oh yeah? Which time? When I showed up at the junkyard and made an ass of myself, or—”

“No, no.” You wave a hand, snickering. “I mean when you came barreling into the ER and I was the only medical staff available to take your vitals.”

Kiri groans. “Oh, man. That was not my best moment.”

You smirk, turning slightly to look at him. “Not your best? Ei, I almost killed you that day.”

He laughs, rubbing the back of his head. “You saved my life.”

You roll your eyes. “By beating the hell outta your chest and slapping you back to life.”

“Which worked,” he points out, grinning.

You shake your head, the memory flashing before your eyes. 

The hero had been rushed in, already on the verge of a medical coma from blood loss. You’d barely had time to get a read on him before realizing his heart rate was dropping—fast.

You didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. You climbed right up on top of him, straddling his near-lifeless body as you screamed for help, cursing at him not to die.

“People need you, dammit! You got a family to go home to! Friends who are waiting for you!”

Your hands locked together as you started delivering the hardest chest compressions of your life, fighting to keep his big, stupid, reckless heart going until backup arrived. But when help did arrive and the oxygen mask and defibrillator didn’t work, the medicine and healing quirks—when nothing did—you’d pulled back and, in pure desperation, slapped the ever-loving shit out of him.

And somehow, that did the trick.

Eijirou grins down at you, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“I swear, that was the best wake-up call of my life.”

“It’s a miracle I wasn’t fired right then and there,” you mutter, shaking your head.

“Nah, c’mon,” he says, his tone warm. “You were the only one who reacted fast enough. No hesitation. You saved my life, Boss.” You scoff, but a tiny smile tugs at your lips.

“Yeah, well. You were an idiot for letting yourself get that bad in the first place.”

He chuckles, then tilts his head. “You know what I remember?”

You hum.

“What?”

“The first thing I saw when I woke up.” His voice drops just slightly, turning softer.

“Was you.”

You pause, and suddenly, you’re back in that sterile hospital room. 

Eijirou’s eyes had fluttered open, unfocused and dazed from blood loss, but they found you almost instantly. Through the medical haze, through the chaos, he had smiled—big and sweet and dumb and loopy—and tried to reach for you.

And then, every damn shift after that, he had called for you.

At first, he claimed it was just to thank you, but you quickly caught on. Every time he tried, you cut him off—telling him to eat, to sit up, to lay down, to go to the damn bathroom, anything to keep him from getting sentimental.

But even when he was transferred from your unit, Eijirou never, stopped, trying. 

Never stopped showing up.

Your throat feels weirdly tight all of a sudden, but you swallow past it and turn back toward him, flicking water at his face. Eijirou yelps, spluttering as he wipes his face with both hands. 

“Baabe! What was that for?!”

“You were getting sappy,” you say, smirking.

His hands drop, revealing the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen. “What, don’t like hearing about how crazy I was for you even back then?”

You scoff. “You were loopy from drugs and blood loss.”

“Yeah.” He nudges his forehead against yours, garnet eyes bright.

“And I still locked in and chose you.”

Your breath catches, but before you can say anything, he leans back, flashing you another sweet grin. “Now c’mon, let me finish washing you. We’ve got a date to get to.” You huff, but as you settle against him, letting him continue those soothing circles along your skin, you can’t fight the warmth spreading through your chest.

You had saved his life.

And somehow, along the way, he had saved yours.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡ ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡ ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+

The night air is cool, seeping in through the cracked window, but neither of you are cold. Not with the way Eijirou has you wrapped up against him, his warmth seeping into your bones as you lay tangled together on his bed.

Your stomach is full, satisfied from the hearty dinner he’d taken you out for, and somewhere across the hall, Hatsume is passed out in your room, snoring softly. You made sure she stayed the night—no way in hell were you letting her drive back this late, no matter how much she insisted she could modify her damn car to autopilot.

The boys are asleep too, their dessert sitting safe in the fridge for them to devour in the morning. 

Everything is settled.

Everything is quiet. 

And you let yourself just breathe.

Eijirou’s hand is large and warm where it rests on your hip, tracing absentminded circles against your skin. You shift slightly, letting your fingers drift over the ring on your hand—the one he gave you long before any legal papers were drawn up, before any of your old life could be settled properly.

“I still can’t believe you went all out for this,” you murmur, twisting the ring slightly in the dim light. 

“You know I would’ve been happy just getting married at the courthouse in whatever, right?”

Eijirou gasps dramatically, clutching his chest like you just stabbed him. “Firecracker! How could you wound me like this?” You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch.

“I’m just saying—”

“No, no,” he continues, shaking his head. “The audacity of my own fiancée, telling me she’d be okay getting married in some boring-ass courthouse with no celebration, no grand moment?”

“You’re such a dork,” you say, smirking. He grins, then sobers slightly, his expression softening as he tugs you just a little closer.

“I meant what I said when I proposed to you, Diamond.” His voice is warm, steady. “I want to wait until everything’s settled—until you and the boys never have to worry about that old life again. No shadows, no ghosts. Just us.”

You exhale, something in your chest loosening at his words. He’s always been like this—always so patient, so damn determined to give you a life that’s truly yours. A life where you and your boys are safe, where the past can’t sink its claws into you anymore.

He shifts, taking your much smaller hand in his, the calluses on his fingers rough against your skin. A gentle killer, truly, he always amazes you.

Gently, Eijirou turns it over, bringing it to his lips.

The first kiss lands at the top of your wrist, soft and lingering. Then another, just below it. Slowly, carefully, he works his way down, his lips brushing over the lines of your palm, warm and reverent, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

By the time he uncurls your fingers and presses one final kiss into the center of your hand, his eyes flutter closed, and damn—damn does this man know exactly how to work your every nerve.

Your breath hitches. Your fingers twitch. You swear you can feel every point of contact like a brand against your skin. He opens his eyes then, ruby-red and shining as he grins at you. 

“Still think you just wanna sign some papers at the courthouse?”

You swallow, staring at him, then huff out a laugh, shaking your head.

Yeah. He’s got you wrapped around his damn finger.

You sigh, stretching your arms above your head as you lean back against the bed. 

“Ei, help me outta this dress?”

Eijirou groans dramatically, rolling onto his side to face you, his palm pressed against his forehead like you just asked him to commit a terrible crime.

“Babe, while I love your dark feminine energy—y’know, all that ‘I wear a dress and heels one day and then dress like a 12-year-old boy the next’ style—I really wish you’d wear dresses like this more often.”

You arch a brow, smirking as you tilt your head.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, sitting up and running a hand through his wild red hair. “They show off your ink so well.” He exhales like you’re a masterpiece hanging in a damn museum. 

“You’re one work of art I’d memorize forever and ever, my love.”

Your face heats up, but you refuse to let him get away with making you flustered so easily. So instead, you lift your foot and nudge him lightly in the thigh with a huff. 

“Simp.”

Eijirou grins—before he catches your leg with that ridiculous strength of his, his calloused fingers wrapping easily around your ankle. Before you can pull away, he tugs you toward him, slow but deliberate, just enough to make you lose your balance and fall back onto the sheets with a soft oof.

You gasp, glaring at him playfully, but he just chuckles, sliding a hand up your calf before pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your knee. The heat of it makes your breath hitch, and before you can recover, he shifts, helping you sit up as his fingers find the zipper of your dress.

He works slowly, deliberately, peeling the fabric away inch by inch. The cool air kisses your skin as he slides it from your shoulders, and his hands follow the path, rough palms gliding over your arms, down your sides, until the dress pools around your waist.

“C’mon, cutie,” you tease, tugging at his tie. “If I’m getting out of this, you’re getting out of that.”

He grins, tilting his head. “That so?”

“Fuck yes.”

With a chuckle, he leans back, letting you loosen the knot of his tie and slide it from his neck. His suit jacket follows, then his dress shirt, each button undone with slow, deliberate care. You let your fingers graze the ridges of his abs, watching as his muscles flex beneath your touch.

His breath stutters when you press your palm against his chest, right over where your name is tattooed, inked into his skin forever. You trace the letters softly, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. Eijirou watches you, eyes warm and lidded, his voice lower now when he murmurs, 

“Told you I’d memorize you forever.”

And you believe him.

Eijirou's fingertips move in slow, deliberate circles beneath your left breast, tracing over the small, neat lettering of his first name inked there. His touch is light, reverent, like he’s memorizing the way it feels under his calloused fingers.

You, in contrast, let your own fingers graze over the deep black letters adorning the muscles of his chest, where your full name stands out in bold, unshakable permanence. It’s in your handwriting—because you were the one who did it. The tattoo gun had hummed steadily under your practiced hands, the lines clean and precise, your name etched over his heart like it had always belonged there.

Eijirou has more tattoos—each one a story, a tribute to the people he loves. His mother’s name is inked on his left shoulder, a quiet homage to the woman who raised him. Between his fingers, small and precise, are the names of the boys and their birthdays—the two kids who have become children to him. And on his right wrist, in bold, defiant lettering, is Katsuki’s name.

You smirk at that one, letting your fingers brush over it.

“I still can’t believe you got this.”

Eijirou chuckles, rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah, well, the tsundere tried to scrub it off with a Brillo pad at first. Said it was ‘stupid.’” 

You laugh. “Sounds like him.”

“Mm. He came around, though. Went to the same parlor you recommended—got my name on his wrist after he went with his girl.” Eijirou grins. “He’ll never admit it, but he’s got a soft spot, too.”

You hum, studying him in the dim light. The way the shadows dance over the strong lines of his face, the way his eyes—sharp and knowing—always soften when they land on you. You exhale, letting your fingers drift over his shoulder, tracing the scars and stories written into his skin.

“What’s up?” he asks, voice low, warm. You hesitate for only a second before speaking, your voice softer than before. 

“I think you’re like an oak tree.”

He blinks, caught off guard, but his lips twitch into an amused smile.

“Yeah?”

You nod, your fingers still idly tracing his ink. “But not just any kind. You’re an old-world oak. The kind full of stories and wisdom. Full of strength. The good kind.” You pause, your chest tightening slightly as you admit, 

“I never expected my life to turn out like this.”

Eijirou studies you for a moment, then reaches up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with all the care in the world. His smile is gentle when he murmurs, “You changed my life for the better. Whatever I can do to repay you, I will.”

You know he’s not talking about money. 

He’s never been that kind of man.

So you laugh, warmth blooming in your chest, and without thinking, you throw your arm over his neck, yanking him down against you in a tight, full-body hug. He lets out a surprised grunt, the breath knocked from his lungs as he collapses against you, his bare chest pressing against yours, skin to skin.

“Damn, wifey,” he wheezes, groaning into the crook of your neck, but you can hear the laughter in his voice.

You just squeeze him tighter.

Eijirou shifts then, strong arms sliding under you, gathering you up like you weigh nothing, cradling you in his arms as though you’re delicate. But his touch—firm, steady—isn’t careful because he thinks you’re fragile. It’s careful because he knows exactly how much you’ve had to carry, how much you’ve had to survive.

And he wants you to know that, with him, you don’t have to carry it alone anymore.

When you finally pull back, your arms still draped over his broad shoulders, you take a moment to just look at him. Eijirou lets you, his garnet eyes soft and patient, like he knows exactly what’s going through your mind but won’t rush you to say it out loud. He doesn’t need to.

Maybe that’s what makes your chest tighten—the quiet understanding, the steady presence, the way he’s always there without demanding anything in return.

You swallow, your fingers tightening against his skin for just a second before you lean in, hesitant but certain. The kiss is slow, deliberate, a quiet conversation without words. Eijirou meets you in the middle, his lips warm and firm against yours, his grip on you tightening just enough to let you know that he’s here—with you, for you, no matter what.

And in that moment, he knows.

Knows that you understand. Knows that you trust him—really trust him—to carry the weight with you, even if you’re still shy about leaning on him completely.

He doesn’t rush you. He never has.

Instead, Eijirou just pulls you closer somehow, holding your soft body against him like he’s got all the time in the world. 

Because for you?

He does.

Who wouldn’t give their all to the love of their life?

I DON'T OWN THE IMAGES!!!!

For Valentines day, I hosted a poll about the fic's I have cooking in the oven from my mha 'Fuck it, I got you,' series and this was the 2nd winner. As promised, some info about the relationship between you and Kiri:

You grew up in the yakuza but refused to get your back tattoos, never fully belonging. Your best friend, Michelle, was part of it too, but everything changed when you discovered your ex’s father planned to recruit your little brother to sell drugs. At the same time, you found out your ex had been cheating, and when you saw how neglected his mistress’s son was, you took him with you and ran.

Because you once designed weapons for them and knew too many secrets about their operations, you and your brother were marked for death. Your ex, now the head of that yakuza, ordered your execution the moment he knew you left. You and Michelle ran, creating new identities to protect the boys. This was all just one week after graduating UA.

Now, you work as a mechanic, designing custom weapons and cars while distrusting the police and Japan’s complicated abuse laws. You pose as a medical assistant for a while but are terrible at it—almost killing Kirishima by accident when you meet.

Big ass fucker wouldn't stop trying to thank you and one evening after patrol he ran into you and your 'kids' at the supermarket after school. He initially thought you were a single mother, but the truth was much more complicated.

Did I also mention that you work in a illegal fight club at night to pay your bills as a bottle girl where he was supposed to gather intel on the underworld but got you as his hostess and boxer of the night instead?

You gave Eijirou a hard time getting close to you, but eventually, he won you over—especially when he offered his personal residence to hide you and your family after your location was discovered. Your little brother and adopted son had been taken hostage, and Japan’s police refused to help.

So, you’re working with the heroes you never thought you’d see again, including your best friend Hatsume, who picked up right where she left off with you.

Your first dance together was at the Club After Dark to John Ledgend's 'All of Me.' The road was rocky, and mistakes were made, but in the end, you and Eijirou get your happily ever after. Not after some heartbreak and bloody horror tho.

My master list is a work in progress but there's plenty more fic's and other characters if you request them. Ao3 is sexy too. I haven't posted the story yet because I need to Finish my Katsuki one first at least, but all the support and comments I receive help give me the motivation to finish!

You can also tip me a coffee if you want.

Remember: Comments and likes, they really help. Don't be afraid to leave me a sexy little reblog too.

Stay tuned for the rest!! If you wanna be tagged, lemme know.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!! <33

-Angie (✿^‿^)

I do not own My Hero Academia or its characters. However, the original plot, storylines, and any original characters in this work are my own creation. Please do not copy, repost, or claim my work as your own. Respect the effort and creativity that went into this story—thank you!

[koigs]

psychoanalyzing chase cause i dont wanna study calculus

ENFP for sure - he is clearly directed by his Dominant Ne. In many episodes, we see his quick thought process in problem-solving (see Toffee Break VI/ep 23 as an example). He quickly musters a solution as to how to solve the problem at hand, at which Deacon says "How did you know she would save him?" and Chase responds "I didn't, but I had a hunch." He explains his thought process, which demonstrates his proficiency in reading between the lines and his people-reading skills. In this arc, we see the disparity between his and Deacon's thought processes. While Deacon works more with linear thinking and organized plans, Chase follows his intuition of what could be the best approach, working with his perception - many times unorganized, but undoubtedly more creative.

He is very directed toward the future, optimistic and, at times, naive. In almost every arc, there is at least one scene of him daydreaming about the future and its possibilities. He doesn't have a "plan" for it, mostly working for it as it comes. Even if his interests seem more physical and tangible (dancing, music, fashion, etc., which is a stereotype for ESFPs), this does not mean he is a Se Dom. Se users are usually more grounded, appreciating the present over future possibilities. Also, Chase is constantly distracted by his own thoughts, to the point of ignoring things around him, which is rather uncommon for Se Doms.

The Aux Fi is obvious - the dude is absurdly connected to his feelings, and they dictate his goals, but not in such a way that negates Ne dom, as his values are more flexible than a Fi dom's. Fi doms usually have a more guarded personality as a way to protect their values and avoid criticism. They perceive their reality through their feelings before leaping into action; ENFPs do the opposite. His values are strong, and he puts them above harmony with others (see his relationship with his aunt as an example, and his fight with Deacon in Toffee Break - his stubbornness in recognizing Deacon's perspective is a great example as well). This rules out ENFJ as well.

He also fills out the ENFP bingo, so there's that - dude is a complete manic pixie girl (boy?). Can relate.

For enneagram: 7w8 - by the Enneagram Institute: "Sevens are extroverted, optimistic, versatile, and spontaneous. Playful, high-spirited, and practical, they can also misapply their many talents, becoming overextended, scattered, and undisciplined. They constantly seek new and exciting experiences but can become distracted and exhausted by staying on the go. They typically have problems with impatience and impulsiveness. At their Best: they focus their talents on worthwhile goals, becoming appreciative, joyous, and satisfied.

[…] The root of their problem is common to all of the types of the Thinking Center: they are out of touch with the inner guidance and support of their Essential nature. As with Fives and Sixes, this creates deep anxiety in Sevens. They do not feel that they know what to do or how to make choices that will be beneficial to themselves and others. Sevens cope with this anxiety in two ways. First, they try to keep their minds busy all the time. As long as Sevens can keep their minds occupied, especially with projects and positive ideas for the future, they can, to some extent, keep anxiety and negative feelings out of conscious awareness. Likewise, since their thinking is stimulated by activity, Sevens are compelled to stay on the go, moving from one experience to the next, searching for more stimulation. This is not to say that Sevens are 'spinning their wheels.' They generally enjoy being practical and getting things done."

This can be seen throughout the whole series. It is clear his impulsivity is also a way to cope with his feelings of lack of autonomy in his life's ordeals - he can't help his mother, he is subdued by his family members, he is isolated in a small town with no money or connections to follow his dreams - this leads him to make mistakes and overexert himself (seen in all of the Sick Day arc and the beginning of Beach Boys). He copes with this (and also masks this anxiety) by focusing on his enjoyment and keeping an upbeat persona.

I will write more later of his enneagram wing (im not sure yet of it, but i think it might be 8, he is not the most security driven person, and his tritype is still incognito to me)

i dont know nor care if mbti is pseudoscience or not it is fun to read and write about lmao

also buddy is intj for sure

[the-wip-project]

February 16 17

Hello writerly friends! Yes, today's post should have been up yesterday, oops. We took a little trip to Köln for a concert on Friday and that just fucked with my whole feeling of time. There was also no writing, but the concert was awesome and we met friends, so it evened out.

Today I want make a little book list of craft books for you. I have a lot of those, I read some of them, and only a few of these books I read all the way through. This is the list of my favorite books I actually read through.

The list:

If you want the one book that shows you everything you need to know about writing, about structure, about finding your way into the story and the characters, you need this book: 

"Fast-Draft Your Memoir" by Rachael Herron. 

Now, I hear you say "But Barbex, I'm not writing a memoir! Why would I need a book about memoir writing?" Because the advice and the tools and methods in this book apply to every type of story. This book contains everything Rachael Herron knows about writing and she has been coaching writers and teaching writing for years. Trust me, this book will work for you.

I already mentioned my favorite writing advice book "Survival Kit for Writers Who Don’t Write Right" by Patricia McLinn 

If you're a discovery writer, this book will give you gentle guidance and useful advice for your writing, without trying to force you into a method that won't work for you.

"Dear Writer, Are You Intuitive?" by Becca Syme. 

This is less of an advice book, and more like a warm blanket telling us stressed discovery writers "you are not alone, this is how you work and it is fine". A great book, just like the whole "Dear Writer" series, to work on our mindset and our mental stability as we write.

"2k to 10k" by Rachel Aaron. 

This is a classic writing advice book, grown out of a series of blog posts about getting more prolific as a writer. It shows you how to plan and plot, so that the writing itself can happen faster. Highly recommended.

"The Heroine’s Journey" by Gail Carriger. 

I recently wrote a post (https://www.tumblr.com/the-wip-project/774390491671347200/february-2) about this book and I have a longer explanation on my writing advice blog (https://the960writers.tumblr.com/post/759780252755083264/hello-writers-i-want-to-introduce-you-all-to-the). In short: you need to know about the Heroine's Journey, because it's the structure of our favorite stories.

"The Anatomy of Prose" by Sacha Black.

This book goes into the nitty gritty of writing good words (with this fucking language, I feel like I need all the help I can get). This is a book more for the editing phase than the drafting phase. Even if you have a great grasp of language, it has a bunch of tools to analyse and improve one's writing. 

So there you have it, the shortest list of writing advice books I could make. There's so many more, good and useful books, but I had to narrow it down somehow. If you have a favorite writing advice book that should go on this list, let us know!

@creativelyfueled @wildswrites @pheita @koiwrites @wickedwitchofthewilds @theburnedoutnerd @fontainebleau22 @illegalcerebral @incognitajones @theglitchywriterboi @sashakielman @satashiiwrites @lilliebellfanfics @jeaniefranklins @iressails @lastelle21 @sgam76 @tryingtimi @randomquadballpun @dragonnan @mclavellan @bisexualdawnsummers @hiraethwritings @523rdrebel @thebonesongs @gewhanaa @broodwolf221 @batteredrugosa @quilleth @exceedinglyfilledwithfolly @vigilskept @drowsy-quill @i-had-bucky @direquail @jacqueswriteblrlibrary @bogunicorn @bluejay-in-write

[moonibinbon]

Missing writing them (blorbos) but need to focus on other things (life under capitalism)

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

I'm slowly making my way through a new project- editing the entirety of the album PUNCH by Autoheart to the Life Series.

I was originally planning to post all of the edits in order of the songs on the album, but I instead made the Lent one first and am too excited to keep it in my drafts any longer while I work on the first four songs of the album (especially since we're coming up on finals seasons and the amount of time I'll have to work on these is gonna plummet so fast). So instead, I'll be posting them as I make them and make a masterpost of them all in order at the end.

That being said, I hope you enjoy this! I'm really proud of it and a lot of work went into it.

[fayeblackburn]

Faye couldn't deny her injuries. It was bad, the whole thing was bad. The bead of anticipation kept gnawing at her. Faye's mind slipped to the scabbed brand on Noah's chest. She knew there were bigger things in play in this town, she'd always known but the scabs on his chest was a confirmation she was not ready for. "I have no idea," Faye's hands splayed. "I just... if there was something more to this, don't I owe it to Stumpy at the very least? Don't I owe him an answer on why he had to end his life like that?" Her voice was a whisper. "All the plans I had for him, that was not one of them, and I can't forgive myself if I look away..."

Faye's eyes were distance, caught in the past, in a series of memories of the last few months. "What if all that was because..." her eyes flicked away from even Julie's direction as she tried to make sense of it all. She couldn't believe that an organization that called themselves cowboy anything would put horses into jeopardy. But, what if it was to get to Noah? How often was he in that truck with her? Julie's next question had Faye come back to the present. "I mean, you're a popular lady, so, you might have met him," Faye smiled, a genuine one, "but, he helped me out when my masters were bought, which benefitted him exactly none, so I do trust him. I think his intentions benefit him a lot more, but... the truth is the truth." Faye's eyes searched Julie's face for a moment, like was searching for the answers in her friend's face that she couldn't make sense of on her own. Maybe if she found out the truth, maybe then she could sleep at night.

"If it comes back like my memory has it..." Faye was getting more comfortable in the idea that her memory was actually right. "That means someone tried to kill me." There was something she needed to know, but she couldn't figure out how to word it. "Do you believe in the legends of this town, of men getting branded and stuff? Like what if it's... true, you know?" Faye tried to pass it off like it wasn't a big deal.

As Faye paused for a moment, likely trying to shove her emotions into a bottle to cover them up, Julie reached out and patted her hand. The cast was recently replaced with a sling, but she knew better than to squeeze Faye's wrist. Instead, Julie picked up her cup as Faye explained the rest of the situation. "Just because he says you should doesn't mean you have to," Julie pointed out after a moment.

"I can understand that -- neither options are great. I will say this, though. I don't know if you fell asleep; look at your injuries. Joanne once," Julie remembered the Camaro drifting off the road. Wynn had been balled up in the backseat. Without her seatbelt on she had slid off to the floor as some of Joanne's belongings fell. Julie, face stinging and blinking back tears, had gripped the wheel and managed to get them back onto the asphalt.

Wynn was bruised like a peach. Julie's face had hit the dashboard. Joanne, once she finally woke up, realized she bit her tongue. Compared to her kids, she was in a great state.

Julie unconsciously rubbed at her eye at the memory. "I'm not trying to scare you, I'm sorry. If someone did, though, what do you do from there?"

She asked because the thought of someone purposely running Faye off the road filled her stomach with dread. How much worse would Faye feel? Technically, Julie was in a bit of a similar state. Did she care to find out who burned down the salon? Not really. Could she truly say she felt completely safe in her hometown. Also, not really. "This friend; do you think their intentions are good?" She asked after a moment. "I'm assuming I've never met them if you're not giving their name, but I have to ask."

[arovalentines]

time to make your choice only you can be the one

[natjennie]

i think mostly we as a culture need to stop pretending media is for us and instead recognize that it's for the people making it. "the show didn't do the thing I wanted it to" is so not the point. did it do what the people making it wanted it to do? did it tell the story they were trying to tell? than it was successful. if that doesn't align with what you wanted to happen, don't get up in arms about it. don't badmouth the creators and throw a tantrum. that's what fan works are for. the text is the text, and it told the story it was telling. you wouldn't be like "ugh shakespeare is insane for act v btw like there was no reason for juliet to kill herself she should've just waited and then her and romeo could have been together wtf this ruined the whole play" like no!!! the themes were there the set-up was there the foreshadowing was there shakespeare did what he intended to. just because it wasn't a happy ending and just because you thought it should've went differently doesn't mean it was bad. read a fic where juliet lives and move on.