#leaving his whole life and faith behind | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sweetangelgirl7 · 4 months

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𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝜗𝜚 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 chris has been your escape from the burden of suffocating expectations you've known your whole life, but you can't ignore the emotional distance that's driving a wedge between the two of you anymore.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: DOM!chris x sub!fem reader au, plot, angst, SMUT, fwb, daddy issues, little use of religious imagery, taboo themes, slight degradation kink, bondange, unprotected, adult language, creampie, hair pulling!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4k!

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: first request! this is inspired by southern gothic aesthetics and ethel cain’s album “preacher’s daughter.” whoever requested this, just know i’m obsessed. i wanna remind y’all the title & visuals are purely for the AESTHETIC! this is 99.9% about daddy issues more than anything, with like one or two lines of ex-religious themes. PLEASE keep scrolling if you want to but i promise the smut is worth it lmao. anyway, enjoy!

you knew christopher sturniolo was trouble, that’s all you’ve been told your entire life. every boy was trouble, for that matter. although, deep down, you also knew that he was no good for you. the feeling of being with him was like the tender familiarity of a sore blistering red on your gums, it hurt but for some reason you just couldn’t stop messing with it.

in a town full of secrets, he was somehow the hardest puzzle to solve. recently it had become more and more evident that you didn’t really understand chris or what went through his mind, leaving you feeling like you were merely scratching at his surface after all this time. however, you constantly had to remind yourself that it didn’t matter what he thought of you or what he thought of anything quite frankly, as it was just sex, after all. although, those days of climbing in through your bedroom window and sneaking around into the late nights were long gone by now.

for weeks, you had desperately tried anything to keep your mind from flashing the memories of your screams and his break lights casting a red glow on your face as he left you in the night. you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the fact that you were so stupidly caught up over him, as he clearly didn’t give a fuck about you or your feelings. not only that but who’s to say he doesn’t touch every single girl in town the same way he touches you. it wasn’t your business anyway, as his deafening silence made that very clear.

pulling into the dusty driveway, you sat in the driver’s seat as your music loudly filled the car. you gripped the steering wheel between both hands while letting out a long, tired sigh before turning the keys in the ignition as the headlights faded out to leave you sitting in the dark. slamming the door behind you, your car was the only one parked out front as your father practically lived down at the house of the lord, by now.

walking up the creaky wooden porch, you fiddled with the keys to get inside and out of the insufferably humid air.

making your way to your room, the ticking wall clock comforted the silence along with the sound of you dropping your items on the bed side table. this was the rest of your night, as it had been for some time. staying in bed and turning through a book that you had already read a handful of times before or watching videos for hours, as the figures on the screen aided what felt like your eternal loneliness. you refused to attend services, trying desperately to escape from the toxic manifestation of “faith” you’d been controlled with your whole life. as the preacher’s daughter’s apparent absence and so-called promiscuity were already the talk of the congregation. around this time, chris would be laying in bed with you but the house remained vacantly still.

pressing your pajamas on the bathroom sink, you tugged your stiff work clothes off and stood in the steam, waiting for the water to run hot.

standing beneath the showerhead, you let the nearly boiling water wash over your face and body to rid yourself of the grime and sweat attained from stepping outside in the sticky summer. quickly washing your hair, you didn’t want to spend too long under the water, as the solitude only led your mind to wander further than you cared for at the moment.

towel drying off, you slipped the thin two piece cotton set over your still warm body before walking back to your bedroom.

rubbing lotion over your arms, the sound of a car pulling up onto the unpaved road across the street echoed outside.

paying no mind to it, as it was assumingly your father, you continued with your nightly routine before a pounding on the door brought you back soon after. walking down the hallway, the wood flooring cooled your feet as you made your way to the front door. working down the locks, you pulled the deadbolt back, opening the door halfway to see who was on the other side.

there stood chris under the dim light of the porch, looking down at you behind the screen door separating the two of you. looking at his face for a moment, you slammed the door shut as you stood behind it, your hand still against the wood.

you stood in silence as he waited on the other side, both of you knowing that you lacked the willpower to actually turn him away. as chris waited for a few seconds, the sound of the locks turning spilled from inside of the house before you finally opened the door, all the way. he opened the screen door and let himself in.

walking past you down the dark hallway and into your bedroom, you followed a few feet behind him. closing the door, you rested your back against it as chris sat on the edge of your bed, scanning the walls with frames and crucifixes that served as a reminder of the life you painfully tried to forget.

“are we gonna talk about this?” he broke the silence, adjusting the messy brown waves beneath his hat as he now pulled it on backwards over his hair. the squeaky overhead fan saturated the room as he waited for you to speak.

your chest rose as you breathed in heavily, exhaling through your nose slowly to find any ounce of self control left in your system. you looked at him in disbelief, your arms now crossed beneath your chest. “are we gonna talk about this?“ you asked as you bit your tongue to hold back the loathsome thoughts racing in your mind.

“all i do is talk. i can’t say the same for you, though ” you scoffed as your back was still pressed up against the wooden door. you watched his jaw clench at your words in the shadow of your lamp, as he leaned his elbows forward on his spread knees. “and what does that mean?” he shook his head before laughing bitterly to himself, looking up at you.

“you know exactly what i mean, christopher” you also let a laugh roll off your lips to disguise the grief in your tone. aimlessly looking for anything around your room to focus your attention on.

“it’s been nearly a month.” you mumbled, shaking your head as you watched chris in your peripheral vision. “god knows what you’ve been doing this whole time.” you muttered beneath your breath as he kept his eyes glued on you.

“what was that?” he asked, sneeringly placing his pointer finger behind his ear as he pretended to not catch that, although he heard every word.

“i said, god knows what you’ve been doing this whole time.” you forcefully raised your voice, now looking at him.

“and what is it that you think i’ve been doing exactly?” he laughed to himself again, now crossing his own arms over his chest.

“oh c’mon christopher, let’s not act dense” you rolled your eyes.

“no really, i’d just love to hear what you think i’ve been getting into these past few weeks” he nodded before pursing his lips as he leaned back in his seat.

“more like who you’ve been getting into” you scoffed quietly as he raised his eyebrows in shock. laughing at your words, he leaned forward again as he shook his head once more, wiping his hands off over his jeans.

“yeah exactly, you can’t even answer that.” you scorned. in reality you didn’t even know if that statement was true, but with him, you didn’t know what to believe as no matter how big of a crowbar you used, he refused to open up to you. you so badly wanted to chalk his communication issues up to emotional unavailability but it was almost impossible to look past that when he constantly discarded your attempts at wanting more.

“what the fuck are you talking about?” he continued to laugh through the disbelief, as if the same mistrust didn’t have you screaming in each other’s faces just weeks ago. “what’s wrong with you?” he continued, letting the frustration get the best of him as your eyebrows knit together in hurt.

“what’s wrong with me?” you questioned, pushing yourself off the door as you stepped closer to him, holding your hands up to your chest to gesture to yourself.

“what the fuck is wrong with you, christopher?” you began, finally letting yourself shout as you tried not to cry behind your words. “you come around here whenever you want, we fuck, for months at that, and after all this time you still can’t just let me all the way in.” you argued as your voice softly cracked, feeling tears starting to well up in the corner of your eyes.

“i don’t even know what’s going on in here half of the goddamn time.” you stepped closer, firmly tapping two fingers against his head beneath the black fitted hat that covered his hair.

he reached his hand up to grab your wrist before he could stand up in front of you, looking down at you as he held onto your skin tightly between his fingers.

“my god, enough. you don’t think i’m fucking trying? i want you, i don’t want anyone else but you. these past few weeks i’ve been thinking about you non-fucking stop” he asserted, thumping his free hand against his chest “but you wouldn’t know that because where were you?“ he questioned, as he leaned down closer towards you while he spoke. “right.” he whispered egotistically in your face.

while that was the most transparent he’d ever been, you couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief as he seemingly proved your point “no! i wouldn’t know that christopher! how could i possibly have known that, when you don’t tell me anything?” you shouted, your face level with his as you flickered your eyes back and forth between his.

“it only took weeks for you to reach out, probably ran through all of your other options by now.” you words were driven by anger, breaking free from his grasp as you turned your back to open the door for him to find his way out.

twisting the door knob between your fingers, he stood up and walked behind you to slam the door closed before you could even pull it all the way open. you squeezed your eyes shut as the heat of the resentment continued to pulse through your head. you felt his chest pressed against your back as the smell of cologne on his clothes filled your senses. god, you missed that scent but you didn’t miss the seething jealousy that came with it, knowing it was probably lingering in some other girl’s nose too.

“look at me” he commanded as you didn’t budge, your back still to him.

“i said look at me” he repeated himself, taking your hips between his hands as you felt yourself begin to melt at his touch. you didn’t want to give in but you fell short as you could never find the strength to ignore him.

you slowly turned to face him, as a stray tear trailed down your flustered cheek. your jaw clenched at the feeling of crying in front him, fighting from letting another tear stream down your face. you kept your eyes forward, glued to the white fabric of his shirt.

lifting his hand, he grabbed your chin between his fingers and pulled your gaze from his chest to his eyes. you two stared at each other, your eyes scanning one another’s features. you sat in silence for a moment before you could break the tension. “what?” you spat, looking at him through your eyelashes.

“you really think i just wanna fuck anything that moves, huh?” he questioned, his hand wrapped tightly around your jaw as you stared up at him before shifting your attention to avoid eye contact.

“look at me” he said sternly, gripping your jaw tighter, forcing your lips to push out between the space of his thumb and pointer finger. you obeyed, looking up at him as he followed your eyes, watching your every move beneath him.

“where’s your proof?” he muttered angrily, leaning closer in the heat of the moment. “besides the shit you stir up inside that pretty little head of yours” using his free hand to tap his fingers against the side of your head, mocking your motions from earlier, as he pressed your back against the door.

the silence became palpable while you stared at him as you visibly had nothing to say to back up your argument. “huh?” he questioned, raising his eyebrows as he waited for you to argue back as you had doing been all night.

you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at your exuding insecurities, as the signs burned red at your cheeks. you didn’t want to ruin things between you two but you couldn’t stay silent and continue to feel hopelessly shut out by him anymore. however, in this case, your mistrust and miscommunication took control of your emotions. you so badly wanted to look away in humiliation but you were trapped in his stare.

“get on the bed” he broke your train of thought as he finally released your face from his hold, your features painting a confused expression.

“go” he stood back and motioned to the bed, forgivingly slapping your ass as he let you walk past him.

sitting on the edge of the twin sized bed, you pulled yourself to the middle of the white sheets as you looked up at him standing in front of you.

“get on your knees and say a prayer, daddy’s girl” chris uttered, nodding at the wooden cross on the wall above your bed. you nodded timidly before turning to face your headboard, sitting back on the balls of your feet.

although you couldn’t focus on anything but the sound of him shuffling behind you. moving to the end of your bed, he reached forward to slip your tank top over your head as you lifted your arms up for him. the lukewarm breeze that the overhead fan was pushing around caused your nipples to stiffen. you rested your hands on your thighs while you waited for his touch, taking your bottom lip between your teeth.

chris trailed his fingers up the flat of your exposed back, pushing your hair to the side as he made his way up your body. he reached forward to unclasp the gold crucifix that had been around your neck since birth, letting it fall down your chest as you leaned over to place it on your bed side table. he pulled his white t-shirt over his head and tossed it to the carpeted floor before moving behind you on the bed.

you sat on your knees while he stood on his, behind you, as your eyes were glued up at the wall. he wrapped his hand around your neck to gently bring your back to his exposed chest, kissing down the crook of your neck as you tilted your head to the side with eyes shut. “dirty girl, thinking about my dick inside someone else” he uttered against your skin hungrily as you leaned into his lips.

he pulled back to rest his hand against your back, pressing your chest down into the bed as your cheek flattened against the white duvet. your ass lifted from the heels of your feet as you arched your back into the bed, feeling the sting of his hand slapping your ass over your shorts. your hands remained at your sides before trying to push yourself up on all fours as chris quickly flattened your upper half into the bed again.

“nuh uh” he muttered, standing to his knees as he fiddled with the belt around his waist, the sound of the clanging metal buckle filled your ears as you couldn’t see anything but a face full of sheets and the haunting willow trees breezing outside of the window. “put your wrists behind your back” chris ordered as you did exactly that, resting your hands behind you as you leaned into the mattress.

you managed to turn your head the other way, looking for the standing mirror in the corner of your room as you watched chris wrap his belt tightly around your wrists. he slapped your ass again as you attempted to adjust yourself farther upwards. chris wrapped his hands tightly around your hips as he pulled you upwards, arching your back down farther.

“we gotta do something about these” he muttered to himself, sliding his hands past your hips with the material of your shorts rolling down beneath them. he pulled the fabric down the rest of the way, dropping them to your legs as he slipped them from beneath your knees.

“already so fucking wet for me” chris laughed to himself as he trailed the pad of his thumb over the damp patch of your panties. you shuddered at his touch, feeling your nerves twitching beneath the fabric.

he continued to tease you over your underwear for a moment before hooking his fingers around the waistband to pull them off. they dropped around your knees as a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, trailing his fingers over your pussy. he teased over your clit, watching your muscles jerk at the feeling as you whined quietly. he took the pad of his thumb between his lips, brushing the taste over his bottom lip.

“you think i’d want any other taste, besides yours, on my lips?” he chuckled at the idea, straightening himself up as he worked on unbuttoning his jeans. dropping them over his knees, he adjusted himself beneath his boxers before tugging them down as his hard cock sprung upward immediately past the waistband.

taking his dick between one hand, chris slapped your ass in the other as he rubbed out the red imprint beginning to spread beneath his fingers. you vulnerably flinched at the feeling, letting a low moan out as you squeezed your eyes shut. he pumped himself a few times before smacking his straining cock between your ass, trailing himself downwards over your folds. rubbing his sensitive tip against your pussy, he hissed through his teeth at the feeling before lining himself up with your entrance. holding your hips in his hands, he gripped his fingers on your skin as he pushed himself inside of you between your folds, equally pulling your hips back on his cock. your warmth instantly wrapping around him as your lips parted at the feeling, letting a moan out into the bed.

“fuuck, there we go” he groaned to himself as he slowly pulled out to thrust into you again, even harder this time as he completely bottomed out causing the side of your cheek to shove into the bed. you whimpered as your body took the blow by suprise, your stomach instantly tightening.

he continued with this pace, allowing you to get accustomed to the feeling as you harshly tugged at your bottom lip to suppress the moans fighting their way out of your mouth.

chris smoothed his fingers up your back to twist the ends of your hair around his hand before pulling your head back as he leaned over your body. your chin forcefully dug into the mattress before slightly lifting off the bed, looking up at the wood paneled walls as he held tightly onto the hair between his fist, pounding into you harder.

“why so quiet? you weren’t this quiet when you were running that pretty little mouth earlier” he breathily groaned into the skin of your neck while he deliberately thrusted into you harder. your lips parted open at the shock as a high moan escaped with the force. “you think i’d wanna bury my cock into anyone else?” he muttered, continuing with the same rhythm, only harder now as his hips repetitively hit your ass.

your body rocked forward as he pounded in and out of you, your lips still agape as he fucked the jealousy right out of your system. “fuck, i’m so sorry chris” you whined, as you could feel his warm breath against your skin.

he laughed at the sound of your whimpers, gripping your hair harder as he pulled your head farther back, moving closer to the side of your face. “if only daddy could hear you beg for mercy now” chris teasingly groaned in your ear while he continued to hammer his cock into your cervix, letting go of his hold on your hair as your chin instantly dug back into the bed.

taking your hips between his hands once more, he continued to exert his cock into you as your moans muffled into the sheets. the sound of his hips slapping against your perspiring skin echoed throughout the house. his grip tightened around your body as you turned your head to press into the bed, watching him through watery eyes in the mirror as he pounded into you from behind.

“chris, i’m gonna cum” you inaudibly choked out as your back arched farther into the bed while he picked up his pace, your face repeatedly smushing into the duvet. the focus furrowing between his eyebrows dissolved as his lips quirked up into a smirk. “louder, baby, i can’t hear you over all that fucking dick you’re taking” he chuckled under his breath as he slapped his hand against your ass, slightly rolling his head back, also nearing his climax.

“i’m gonna c-cum” you moaned loudly, barely being able to form the words as your eyes rolled back, the pressure building in your stomach. chris painfully clutched onto your hips as he buried himself inside of you, deep and hard.

“oh my god” you whined before your walls clenched around him tightly, finally releasing as you felt a warm sensation of euphoria rush through your body. your muscles felt weak as chris continued to thrust his cock inside of you through your orgasm.

“fuck i’m right there” he moaned out before digging his fingers into your skin, pushing himself farther into your hips as he released his warm load deep inside of you with a hiss through his teeth. the sudden warmth causing your eyes to squeeze shut.

he rolled through the high as his cock twitched inside your walls, lazily thrusting before smacking your ass one more time. “god damn” he shouted as his head rolled back, slowly pulling himself out of you.

your eyes remained closed as you tried to catch your breath while chris flopped down on the bed next to you. bucking his hips up, he pulled his jeans back up over his legs before laying down once again. adjusting beneath your weight you finally stretched your legs out and laid down on your stomach. turning your neck, you rested your face in the opposite direction to look chris over as he lay down next to you, your wrists still resting against your back.

“was that enough talking for you?” he mumbled, turning on his side to face you with a smirk. you laughed sheepishly as you shook your head before he could press his lips against yours.

“i’m sorry, baby” he mumbled quietly against your mouth. “i’m trying, believe me. it’s just hard.” he confessed as you nodded, wanting nothing more than to caress his face between your hands. “i’m sorry too.” you apologized quietly, softly connecting your lips once more.

he trailed his hand up your body and over your back as he began to adjust the belt around your wrists before the sound of a car pulling up the driveway broke the kiss as you both turned to look at the door.

chris laughed as he reached over to grab his shirt from the floor, quickly pulling it on over his head as he crept towards the edge of your bed under the window.

“wait, chris!” you called quietly, squirming as you tried to fiddle with the restraints behind your back. leaning forward to plant a kiss against your lips one more time, he swiftly slid the window open before stepping one leg out onto the damp grass. “sorry sweetheart, i’ll come back for you tomorrow.” he winked down at you before completely stepping out into the night, shutting the window behind himself.

WHEWWW hope y’all r up horny on a wednesday night 😮‍💨 i’m a slut for sub!chris but this one had a lil kick to it. i couldn’t help but slip a little soft chris in there at the end SORRY. anyway, i hope whoever requested this enjoyed it as much as i did!

i’m actually working on a taglist, so let me know if you’d wanna be added to that! 💋

#©sweetangelgirl7 #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #smut #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #chris x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo

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marypsue · 5 months

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Was talking with @seiya234 about Sam Vimes and the idea that seems to come up in some fan circles with some regularity that after his death, Vimes will become the 'God of Coppering' or in some other way some part of him will continue to protect the city/the Watch after his death. She mentioned that she thought the idea was kind of king-ish - the whole idea "that someone will keep swooping in and saving the day" - and that Vimes would haaaaaate that, and I agree.

However. It's true. Part of Sam Vimes will keep protecting Ankh-Morpork long after he dies.

It's the part of him he gave to Carrot, the part that Carrot uses to check himself every time he starts to get frustrated with the limitations of what he can do as a Watchman and wishes he could just - make people be better.

It's the part of him he gave to Angua, the quiet faith that of course the beast within can be brought to heel, of course it's never easy but it's always worth it.

It's the part of him he gave to A. E. Pessimal, a small dull man living a small dull life whose eyes were opened wide one terrifying night to how much of a difference one small dull man's small dull life can make to the great churning wheels of the world.

It's the part of him he gave to the grags and to Mr. Shine, the proof that the truth is worth digging for and worth hauling up into the light, that it's possible to look beyond hatred and mistrust.

It's the part of him he gave to William de Worde, the knowledge that nothing is really worth doing unless someone, somewhere, would really much rather you weren't doing it.

It's the part of him he gave to Reg Shoe, that keeps Reg believing in the necessity of fighting for a better world even when it seems absurd and impossible and foolish to try.

It's the part of him he gave to Sham Harga, who knows every now and then, a man just needs some burnt crispy bits.

It's the part of him he gave to any number of strangers in the street, a sense of what fairness and justice can look like, even in something as small as a night patrol.

It's the part of him he gave to Sybil, the very best part of himself.

And it's everything of himself that he gave to Young Sam, who has a chance now to make his own impressions on a thousand thousand lives.

It's not just A part of Sam Vimes that will linger after his death, protecting the city he loved and hated in equal parts, the city that was his. It's a thousand thousand parts, that he left behind sometimes aware, sometimes intentionally, sometimes without even realising. And it's not something inherent within Sam Vimes and Sam Vimes alone, not something special about him or that only he could do. It's what everyone does, leaves parts and pieces of themselves behind. A thousand thousand parts of Sam Vimes are still out there, still saving the city, little by little, in quiet unglamourous ways, day after day after day.

If anything can be saved by a part of someone who's gone, it's like this.

And I think Sam Vimes would be proud of that.

(And also swear about it quite a lot when he realises this also implies that technically he's a factor in the lives of crime that some of the many, many people he's arrested over his long career have gone on to lead, but alas. We don't get to choose ALL the ripples we make in the world.)

#terry pratchett #discworld

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prentissluvr · 5 months

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sorry won't cut it — sam and dean winchester

pairing : sam and dean winchester x gn!sibling!reader ➖⟢ genre : angst, hurt/comfort ➖⟢ cw : set in season 8 LOL, sam and dean are kind of/definitely assholes to reader, swearing, arguments, crying, use of kid, kiddo, honey, and sweetheart to refer to reader, only light editing ➖⟢ wc : 4K summary : you meet up with sam to discover that dean is back from purgatory, and both have been keeping secrets from you.

when sam answers your call, it comes as a relief. a surprise, but more than anything, a relief. it’s been two and a half months, almost on the dot, since he’s answered a call. usually it’s just one month. he has a single burner phone just for you, but it’s off half the time, and the other half he never answers.

you’ve grown used to his distance, to an extent. it still stings when your phone rings till voicemail sometimes, but you’ve just been too tired to argue with him, to ask him to comfort you, make him keep hashing through the pain of looking for dean and finding nothing but trouble.

you want him to have the normalcy, the girl who loves him and makes him feel alright. you want to have faith that he’ll figure out how to factor you into it all eventually, but you still miss him, and you’re still lonely, so you keep calling, never getting angry or upset when he occasionally picks up. you just act like it’s normal, and you can tell he appreciates it, so you keep it up. in return, he asks you over sometimes, tells you each time how much amelia raves about you after you leave, hugs you tight before you go.

it’s been several months since he’s invited you over, and he doesn’t really talk about her anymore. you figure something must have happened, but you never push anything anymore with him.

this call is different. one, because he finally picks up. two, because he tells you to meet up with him, no explanation or normal talk about what you should bring for dinner. three, he asks you to meet at a random address in kansas.

he sighs deep, “just… get here as soon as you can. i’ll send you the location.” then he hangs up and it feels like the hunting life all over again.

⟢

it’s a seven hour drive, and you’re tired out of your mind, high-strung and worn out from leaving right after your shift at a diner full of sleezes who don’t tip enough. even though this whole thing is strange for the new, hunting-free sam, there’s relief coursing through you at the thought of seeing him, hoping he’ll let your tired feet carry you right into his arms. you pull into a driveway of sorts, no obvious entrance to the unremarkable building in front of you, but your years of hunting and meeting up with your brothers at strange places during strange hours after strange calls help you find the door. it's a bunker, one you've never seen before.

you were always a little bit more like sam, disillusioned to the hunter life and the way your father raised you. you weren’t a fighter like him, but you slipped away at eighteen to go to college and found somewhere near stanford so you’d be able to visit sam often. he loved that, always so glad that you got out too. but you were barely gone a year before dean came back to collect you and sam to look for your dad. you came easier than sam, less attached to your new place and always finding yourself missing dean.

that’s what you’d been doing this past year. missing dean, and painfully. so when you knock on the door, calling out, “it’s me, sammy,” you freeze when it opens several beats later.

because the person behind the door isn’t sam. but it is your older brother. just the one who’s been stuck in purgatory for the last year or so, the one you’ve endlessly searched for to no avail.

“dean?” your voice is small as his name slips from your mouth.

his eyes go soft, the way they rarely get, and the slight smile on his lips is half pained, half pure relief to see you after so long. “hey, kid.”

you launch yourself into his arms, and he catches you easy, right there in the doorway, and you have to fend off tears that you know wouldn’t put up so much of a fight if you weren’t so exhausted. but you were raised tough, and winchesters don’t cry all that often, at least not where someone else can see. so you swallow hard and tough it out, letting dean pull away from you and lead you inside. he moves through the house with a sort of ease he’d only have if he felt comfortable and safe there. this raises questions, along with the fact that he's here at all.

you’re speechless, but not for a lack of anything to say. endless questions stream through your mind, each one pushing to be asked, even more desperate to be answered.

but the only thing you can figure out how to say is “hello” to sam when he greets you in the living room. he pulls you into a hug, letting you linger for a moment before you know you have to ask all of the hard questions. something in his face is unreadable to you, which is rare when it comes to your brothers. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was a hint of guilt. that rings alarms in your mind, but you brush your nerves aside when dean takes a seat on the couch.

you relax a bit when you sink down next to him, curling into his side a little. it makes you feel a bit childish, but you need it after everything this past year. he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you a little closer. sam sits down across from the two of you and you heave a sigh, wondering where to start.

opening your mouth and forcing words out is like a crack in a dam. everything comes out slow at first, but that lasts mere seconds before the flood.

“how did you… dean, how did you get out? i mean, i tried– i tried everything,” your voice breaks at that word, the weight of it meaning something only you understand. you look at him, brows taught and you’re confused by the surprise on his face, as if he didn’t expect you to say such a thing.

“what do you mean, you tried everything?” he asks, voice suddenly gruff and severe. you recoil from his side to get a better look at him. you don’t miss the look he shoots sam. this is already departing from what you expected, which is probably exactly what you should have expected. it’s just that, when dean hugged you back and he was solid and real and alive, when he sat on the couch instead of a chair so you could sit next to him, you thought that maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to stay tucked safe into his side as they told you what happened, as they asked you to stay with them.

“what do you mean?” you shoot back. “what, did you think i’d just kick back and call it someone else’s problem?”

“that’s what sam did. that’s what sam said you did.” his voice is accusatory and when you whirl to look at sam, utter bewilderment evident on your face, you can see him physically grimace. which means dean’s telling the truth.

“sam did what?” the question sounds like it’s targeted for dean, but you’re staring the younger down.

“listen, i– no, you know what, i’m not going to explain myself on this again. what do you mean you did everything, you said you were going to school?” sam looks irked and defeated all at once.

“that is completely beside the point, sam, you lied to me?” you ask incredulously, “but you’re not going to explain to me why? why you lied to me or why you apparently didn’t look for dean, i mean are you crazy?” dean’s hand on your shoulder prevents you from standing as your voice grows louder.

“listen, kid, sam and i, we’ve already hashed this out, okay? it’s uh– it’s fine, alright?” with the way he says the word “fine”, you know that it still bothers dean, so you can’t understand why he’d say so. “we’ve got things to discuss here,” dean tries to reason with you before sam can respond. he’s no peace maker, but a full blown fight between the two of you could have an ugly ending.

“things to discuss?” you repeat, in disbelief of the audacity. knowing them, that means they need something from you, which begs the question of why sam asked you over in the first place. you don’t even want to think about them having ulterior motives outside ofjust wanting to see you, so you brush it off angrily. “well, i’m glad to hear that you two have hashed it out, but i haven’t yet, so we can discuss whatever that is later.” you shrug off dean’s hand, trying to focus on the things you’re already angry about instead of asking the even bigger question nagging at you now. when the hell did dean get back that those two had time to hash out something that major? you turn your anger back to sam, thinking about what it was like when dean first disappeared. “you told me you looked. you told me you did all that you could, that you tried everything in your power. now dean’s telling me that you did jack shit?”

sam sighs heavily. “yes, okay. listen, i’m sorry i lied to you, alright? but i just wanted you to try and live your life for once. i figured if i told you i did everything i could, that, i don’t know, maybe you’d give up and try to move on? go to school, do something you love, have real friends, maybe find someone?” he throws his hands up in the air, a defeated gesture because he knows you don’t agree, while he still thinks he did the right thing.

you scoff, because, god, he really has no idea. arms crossed and face the kind of calm that says run to anyone on the other end of your anger, you nod in false understanding. “yeah, what good that did,” you say, your tone so sarcastic and dry that sam just clenches his jaw and dean’s face turns from concerned to full-blown worried. he wonders if he should ask what that means, because whatever it does, it’s certainly not ��good.”

but you pick up again after a moment of thick, dripping silence. “you know, sam, you have absolutely no idea how this past year really was for me. i’m not saying it was easy for you, because i know it wasn’t. though now i know you also skipped the trouble of looking for your stuck-in-purgatory-brother and really, actually lived that hunting-free life you wanted.” sam cringes at the venom in your voice. “all i’m saying is that just about nothing has been all, i don’t know, rainbows and butterflies like you think,” your voice is practically scathing, a tone so rare to both of your brothers that neither knows what to say, “and you know what, sam? it’s looking to me like i’d be a lot better off if you’d just decided to tell me the goddamn truth.”

sam says your name, tentative like he’s testing hot waters, “i thought you said things were going well. you said you liked school, that you were making friends there? just explain to me what you mean so we can figure this out.”

“figure it out,” you repeat under your breath, sticking your tongue against the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something too harsh. “sam, things were going well! they were!” now you’re feeling desperate to make him understand, “but that night you told me there was nothing else we could do, nothing else to try and that i should just do my best to move on? i couldn’t, sam, i couldn’t do that. there had to be something more we could do, so i gave up on the things you said you did and i went further. i let you think i was fine, that i was doing what you wanted for me because you always sounded so tired. you always sounded like one more thing on your plate would make the sweet little life you built with a girl and a dog come crashing down, so i made sure you wouldn’t have to worry about me.”

dean’s voice is uncharacteristically soft when he does his best to make his interruption gentle. he doesn’t want to upset you more, but you can hear the tension in his voice when he asks, “kiddo? what do you mean by you ‘went further?’”

suddenly you shrink in on yourself, your lower lip caught between your teeth and your eyes shining with fresh tears. “dean–,” your voice breaks before you can even say anything else. his hand is on your back, meant to be comforting, but it only makes you feel worse about it all. you know how much dean would hate the lengths you went to to try and get him back. “i can’t–” you shake your head, “i can’t right now, but maybe… maybe if you’d told me the truth, sam, if i’d just started by reading through all of bobby’s books like you said you did, things would have worked out differently.”

“well, maybe if you told me you were going to keep trying, i could have helped you!” sam fires back.

you let out a strangled, frustrated noise as you stand, unable to keep sitting down. “would you? really? because i really don’t think you would’ve! you were so focused on moving on from losing dean that you distanced yourself from me, too! you barely picked up, never called, only talked about dean in three word sentences to tell me a lie about how you tried and failed to find anything to help! maybe if you paid any attention to me, gave any indication that you wanted to help or see me or be a major part of life like i wanted of you, i would have opened up to you!” it makes you even more angry when your voice turns teary, “and for once, i wanted to try to be the one to take care of you two. i kept my secrets, i never let on how fucking lonely i was, just so you wouldn’t worry about me!” a stunned silence falls over you brothers, sam’s guilt beginning to overrun his natural response of anger, and dean making up for that fading anger with his own. your chest heaves with laboured breath as you stare sam down.

dean’s tone is icy as he breaks the silence, “sam, is that really how you treated them while i was gone?”

sam exhales hard, ignoring dean in favor of looking at you, “i was just doing what i thought was the best for both of us. i didn’t know, okay, i’m sorry.”

“are you kidding me?” you exclaim, voice turning shrill and growing louder by the second, “people got hurt, on my account,” you have to force that part out through gritted teeth, “i got kicked out of school, and i spent three months running from hunters!” both sam and dean want to interrupt at that, but you keep going, your voice quieter now, but harsh and trembling, “but you were doing what you thought was best for both of us? try what was best for you. dean was gone, and i needed you, sammy, i needed you and the second you said you needed to get away, alone, i knew i didn’t have you.”

that shuts him up, has him deflating and his guilt taking over, and you can see it and you hate it. you almost wish he’d get angry instead because that means you can keep shouting at him to try and make him understand. but all you get are his clenched jaw, his sad eyes, and his guilty silence that tell you he knows he fucked up but he can’t figure out a way to make it better since sorry sure as hell won’t cut it.

it’s dean who cuts into the heavy silence again. “sam.” his name hangs in the air, weighed down with unspoken words. “we’ll talk about this later,” you guess is the message. you can feel how angry dean is without even looking at him. you know all he ever asked of sam if he was gone was to take care of you, and now dean knows he didn’t. then his attention is back on you. he says your name, clear and careful. “i’m gonna need you to tell me what you did, okay?”

you wipe at your face angrily as you whirl to face dean. trying to keep the ever present tears at bay, you tap right back into your anger. but it's more tired this time, less convincing with your voice taut from unshed tears begging to be released.

“all that, and that’s what you take away from this? really, dean? you’re gonna need to know what i did? i don’t need you to tell me to know that– that it was wrong and i don’t need you to make me feel any more shitty than i already do right now, okay?”

it’s his turn to wear a look of guilt on his face, but it only sits there for a flash before he keeps going. “kid, that’s not what i’m tryna’ do here, alright? i just wanna understand so i can keep us safe, yeah?” he puts his hands out in a peaceful motion, but something else unresolved floats back up into your focus.

“no. dean, no! because there’s something else here, something both of you have been avoiding this entire time!” there’s a sudden change in the air, like both of them are holding their breath, silently begging you won’t ask the question. “dean, how long have you been back?”

his hesitancy to answer tells you everything. “kid, listen, that’s not imp–”

“don’t you dare say it’s not important! did you hear anything i just said, dean? anything about how shit my life has been since you’ve been gone, how lonely i’ve been?”

“you’re right,” sam relents, forging on before dean can stop him, “he’s been back for three months now. it’s my fault we didn’t tell you. it’s all my fault, and believe me, i am so sorry.” you collapse into a chair with your head in your hands as he continues, “i know that does nothing to fix things, but i am sorry, and i promise i will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you, kiddo. i’m all in now, and i did it all so this wouldn’t have to be your life, but you’re here now and we want more than anything to have you around, okay?”

you lift your head up to stare at him. “three months.” your voice is dangerously quiet. “you two…” your tired mind can’t think of words strong enough, “drive me insane, you know that? dean, you just– you just went along with that and decided, let me guess, that it was best for me? because i was at school, living a normal life and away from the danger of this one? is that it? it’s best for me not to know my brother’s alive? because, you know, that reminds me of something. hm, maybe the time sam hid from us that he was alive for a year because he didn’t have his fucking soul? oh, yeah, it must be that.” you let out a short bark of laughter, but it and your voice are completely devoid of any humor. dean visibly recoils when you mention that. he’s thought of it, and still decided to keep you in the dark. “come on, dean, you know how that feels and you go and do it to me again? really?”

you’ve beat him too. “honey,” he sighs, “i’m sorry. we were wrong to do that to you, okay?”

finally, you think you might be out of things to say, to be hurt about. your voice is quiet and fragile now, and the dam holding back your tears is fractured in a million places, more than ready to break. “i missed you so much. both of you,” you whisper. you meant to make a scathing comment about how “sorry” and “we were wrong” don’t even begin to cover it, but you find that you’re not in complete control of the things coming out of your mouth. you’re just too goddamn tired. dean is crouching in front of you in an instant.

“i missed you, too, sweetheart. so much. i’m so sorry.” he takes it as a good sign that you let him place his hand on your knee. you want to flick it away, maybe shove him away too.

“and i was so, so lonely. i was so scared,” you sob out, wishing you didn’t have to cry when you got angry. “and i’m so mad that you two did this to me.”

“i know, kiddo, i know. i’m sorry.” gently, slowly, he tugs you towards him and into his arms and you slide onto the floor and cry into his chest, shaking and unable to say a thing. you want to tell him this doesn’t make it right, but dean hushes you gently when you try. “shhh, it’s okay, just let it out, alright? i got you. i got you,” he comforts. it’s true that this doesn’t make it right, but it’s almost all you need in that moment.

“sammy,” you choke out, still so angry with him, but wanting him near anyways, knowing that he’s too scared to come close to you after coming face to face with all of the things he did wrong. his hand is on your back a moment later, hesitant at first, then strong and soothing moments later when you blindly grab for the fabric of his flannel to keep him close.

“okay. okay, i’m here. i’m sorry. i’m here now, i promise,” he whispers, silently letting a few of his own guilty tears fall.

utterly exhausted, you stay slumped on the floor in dean's arms when your tears dry up. you can barely keep your eyes open and your breathing is soft and slow.

“let’s get you to bed,” dean whispers, hoisting you all the way into his arms and up as he stands. “sam’ll grab you a glass of water.” you sigh an imperceptible sigh because you know that dean is still pissed at sam. rightfully so, you’re more than just pissed at both of them, but you’re too tired to care in this moment, and the last thing you want is for them to be angry at each other. that’s your job for when you wake up hours from now.

dean sets you down in a foreign bed pulling the blankets over you, and sam is back moments later with the promised glass of water and tissues for your face. you curl up and tug at the covers slightly, eager to fall asleep.

“see you in the morning,” you mumble, effectively dismissing them with your voice hoarse from crying. you close your eyes before either of them can say a thing, but your words are also a whisper of the beginning of forgiveness.

“goodnight, kiddo,” dean says, his voice full of a familiar affection that he only uses for his little siblings as he presses a kiss to your hairline, before disappearing out the door.

you drowsily register the sound of sam setting the glass of water on the night stand by your head. “i’m right across the hallway if you need anything.” a moment, then, “goodnight,” and a gentle hand on the side of your head before a kiss to your temple.

you fall asleep coming up with a list of petty ways you’ll have them make things up to you. neither sam nor dean will be pleased to hear that you’re calling shotgun in the impala for the next three months, minimum. sam for obvious reasons, and dean because he’ll know that means you’ll be taking your job as youngest sibling to annoy the living hell out of him very seriously.

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shiny-jr · 1 year

Text

from DIASOMNIA

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader.

- Characters: Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: This is just the first part, only with Diasomnia. I’ll post the rest later once its written. For now, I hope you enjoy this part! Oh, and this was inspired by the mention of letters @qierxing‘s fic inspired by the whole imposter au idea. So yeah. Hopefully I caught all the mistakes in this post because I am not rereading all that again.

Diasomnia | Ignihyde

Among the first letters you pick is carefully sealed in a black envelope. You found it peculiar that Grim, who had offered to use his claws to open the envelopes, hadn’t been able to cause the slightest tear as if it were being protected by some magic. But it opened with ease during your first attempt to rip it open.

You didn’t care much for the wax family crest that had sealed it, or the black envelope itself. Maybe it would feel liberating to just set them all ablaze as soon as you finished skimming over the carefully written words.

To my dearest human,

I understand the pain I have caused you.

Ever since that moment I betrayed you, all I have seen in my vision and in my mind is your expression of terror. It tortures me. Your terror spurred by my actions and my very own hands. I am your most beloved and loyalest of companions in this world, and yet, had my retainers behind those doors not intervened, you would have been gone forever. And it would have been all my doing, all my fault.

I write this letter to apologize, but as I write this, I realize that there is no forgiving what has been done. Ever. No matter how I plead or what comes from my lips. But I will say this: there are no amount of words that can truly convey how sorry I am. This will haunt me for the remainder of my centuries of life.

Agonizing thoughts plague my mind and torment me at all hours of the day and night, at every and each moment. Even now, I reflect on everything I had done to harm you. While, the time I believed in those falsehoods was minuscule compared to the days others knew and acted upon it, the fact still stands that I was too easily deceived by mere rumors alone. I was blinded by my rage when I heard that someone dared to impersonate you and had been the probable cause of your vessel’s malfunction, that I did not even take a brief respite to consider the validity of the information that reached my ears.

Believe me, although I realize you have no reason to hold even a shred of faith in a single word I say and for that I would not blame you, but I will atone for the crimes I have committed. In any way possible. Even if it takes my entire lifetime, I will continue forward until I have achieved this goal and you may smile upon me once again. There is a human saying, which if I recall correctly I believe goes something like, forgive but never forget. Well, I would beg for forgiveness, while knowing full well that my misdeeds will never truly be forgotten. The harm I inflicted will leave scars that will never fully fade.

For every scratch my nails left on your delicate flesh, you may drive vines of the sharpest thorns against my own skin until blood pools all around me. For every bruise from my hand that tainted you, I would hand you an iron sword to use as you wish against me until you believe I’ve had enough. If it pleased you, I would even utilize my magic to transform into a figure with wings, which I would then proceed to sever the wings by my own hand and offer them to you on a silver platter.

Any punishment you can think of, I would readily accept.

Although living with the guilt of my mistakes and knowledge of the weight of my actions against you, is by far the most painful torture I’ve ever known.

If I do not receive word from you soon, I fear I may go insane with my own guilt. Yet I know I bring this upon myself. And if I were to go insane, if I was not insane this entire time already, you are all that would be in my thoughts. You are all that would remain in the part of my mind that is intact. You are currently and have been all that I think of, so perhaps my sanity is already long gone.

I would venture into the deepest crevices of hell and back, just to prove my worth to you. Even if I must be punished for the rest of my life, so be it. But I implore you to allow me to redeem myself, let yourself bear witness to the incredible feats I may accomplish in your name. Redemption... The thought of perhaps one day receiving the blessing of your smile and your grace once more in the near or distant future, is the light at the end of the tunnel in this dark period of my existence. I am yours. Whether you still desire me or not, I will forever be yours, and I will brave through trials of fire to demonstrate my eternal devotion to you.

Just know that I will do everything in my power to please you. Whether it be to fulfill the judgement you cast upon me, to demonstrate my worth and determination to achieve redemption, or simply because you command it so, it shall be done.

For now, I will wait on your response and deliberate over my next course of action. Should you desire anything, anything at all, wether it be something as simple as traveling to the store for a purchase, you have a moment of recluse and desire company, or if you command me to move the island or clear the very heavens, all you must do is speak my name. Then, consider it done. Once my name is upon your lips, I will be there as the last syllable leaves your tongue.

I will await the moment I am summoned.

Forever yours,

Malleus Draconia

That was... unnerving. Your hand unconsciously drifted up to the slight puncture wounds on your neck. They had long since dried, but you vividly remember feeling the thin trail of crimson being drawn and dripping down like a steady stream.

You could remember the way Malleus withdrew as soon as he realized the truth, like he had been burned with his hands on you in that fashion. The blood, your blood, staining his sharpened nails. The red was deeper than any nail polish or ink.

You were nearly sent spiraling, until you felt a tap and the texture of paper against your arm. When you glance down, you see Grim pressing his paws with another crumpled letter onto you. The ink on this letter is red, but the feline’s wide curious eyes are a glowing blue.

“You okay? What’s so interesting about that wall you’re lookin’ at? You’re kinda just staring off into nothing there.”

Offering a grateful nod to Grim who frowned worriedly, you accept the already opened envelope while tossing aside the letter from Malleus. “I’m good. Just... thinking.”

Lifting a hand, you place your palm against his head and scratch the spot behind his ears. Grim lets out a content purr and holds a bag of junk food, which he probably found among the mountain of gifts, and curls up beside you. You continue the slow and soothing scratches as you use your freehand to unravel the letter Grim brought you from the towering stacks.

This envelope was already cut open. It was a light brown and more square-shaped as thin rope kept it tied together. It had a mash of colorful strings that formed a messy bow to top it off. At least, you assumed it was meant to be a bow, but it looked more like a messy knot that would be impossible to untangle. Good thing it was already partially cut by Grim’s claws earlier.

As mentioned, the ink was red, an interesting choice. While the handwriting was not as elegant as Malleus’ letter. Some words were written neatly, before falling off the line and blending with other words. Making it a bit difficult to read, but you managed.

If you’re reading this,

This means that I am not irredeemable in your eyes.

Had I been beyond redemption, you would have not even opened this letter. If this was a lost cause, a merry dance, this paper would’ve been tossed into the trash without a second thought. But, my words have reached you. You’re reading this right now, aren’t you? It’s why I decided to write this. I could predict the actions you’d take. You are different from your vessel, but it’s only natural that you would act similarly to the silly little doll you controlled, the same doll that sparked this whole fiasco.

I truly am so sorry if I frightened you. While I will admit, it was my intention to strike fear into your heart and use you to serve for another dubious purpose, that was when I hadn’t recognized you. Although, I know this doesn’t mean much to you, I figured I should be entirely honest to you. It’s the least I can do. I’m such a fool for being quick to believe the rumors like some sort of senseless child.

All I can do now, is remain true and offer up my loyalty. It’s nothing compared to the mistakes I made, and I’ve made plenty, but I know an apology will never suffice. So, even if you’re still uncertain about redemption, I’ll remain loyal. Among all the beings and creatures I’ve met in my lifetime, you remain an enigma. You’re human, but at the same time, you’re different. There continues to be so much I do not know of you. I wonder, could you hear me whenever I spoke to your plaything? Do you recall the stories I told, of my time as a reckless youth? Foolhardy, wild, that I was. But I was also fiercely loyal. For the Draconias, I razed down all foes like wheat in a field.

Now that I consider it, perhaps it's best if you hadn’t heard me recount those tales. While I had been eager to share with you my experiences and act out my thrilling adventures, perhaps my story telling was much too graphic. I wouldn’t want the vivid details of bloodshed to be cause for alarm as our most recent encounter was far from pleasant. You have to forgive me, sometimes I get carried away when narrating my accomplishments and exploits. I’ll share more light-hearted memories with you the next time we meet.

Our first meeting with your true self really went abysmally, didn’t it? I know that things never really go as planned, so I don’t bother planning such things in advance. But, I had pictured it to be a lovely moment. Silver and Sebek would look at you with shining eyes and proclaim their loyalty as they had practiced vows over and over again for such an occasion, I would get to embrace your true form and unlock your secrets, and of course Malleus would be truly content for once as he finally received the company he deserved.

But, as expected, things didn’t go accordingly.

Those three youths are miserable, thinking of the proper words to pen, a way to apologize for the suffering they’ve caused. But now, we are the ones suffering because we hurt you.

They write and write, but tear their letters over and over again as they believe no words they’ve written so far are adequate. Soon they’ll realize that no words will ever be sufficient for an apology. Even if they were to create new words that are unheard of by any dictionary, it would not come close to being enough. That’s why I’ve decided to stick with this single attempt, because I already know that nothing I ever write will measure up to being acceptable.

There is something about you that always leaves me bemused. Your grace left me feeling dizzy and giddy, like I was experiencing a little crush again, although this was much more intense than any crush. The truth about your vessel controlled by you, had me perplexed as I had never heard of such a thing. And well, the disastrous chase that followed your arrival... you know that part well and could assume how I feel about that from what I’ve told you. At present, all I can do is remain loyal, for what my loyalty is worth to you. Beyond that, despite having an abundance of experiences, there is no such situation that could have prepared me for this moment.

Genuinely, I am stumped once again. I cannot even envision what can be done with my own two hands, that can be worthy of your attention once again and earn me redemption. But, you can be certain of one thing, and that is: my loyalty is undying. I still have a few years left in these old bones of mine, and I will use the rest of my life to serve you.

Whether you want me or not. If you still want me, I will be of use to you. Whatever you are in need of, a soldier, a plaything, a companion, or even someone to take out your anger on. I shall be it. If you don’t want me, I will still be there. I will always be there to smile and lift your spirits like you once did for me through your doll.

I eagerly wait for word from you.

Until we meet again soon,

Lilia Vanrouge

None of these letters were comforting in the slightest. In fact, they only placed you further on edge. For a moment, you considered stopping it here after only two and getting rid of the rest.

Grim by now had settled in your lap, and looked up at you with those watchful blue eyes. Had he been staring at you the entire time?

“Let me guess, they’re not taking it well?”

“No, not at all.” You answer with a grimace. If this was how they were like now, you didn’t even want to know how they acted when they found out your vessel stopped working over a week ago.

“Huh, sucks for them.” The feline stretched out, his claws poking out for a moment before quickly retracting as he plopped back down on his back with his stomach up. Maybe it was his own attempts to fill the silence, or to let you know you weren’t alone, but he eventually groaned. “Hey, read me one. I wanna know what they say.”

Unable to say no to your companion, you nodded slowly and smiled weakly, “Alright, alright, let’s see what we have here...”

You plucked out a random letter with neat packaging. However, just because the exterior was pretty, didn’t mean the interior message would be. You learned that already from the last two letters you had read.

This envelope looked somewhat similar to the last one, square-shaped and tied closed with string. However, instead of the knot of ribbons on it, it held a simpler gift. The brown rope around it was tied in a neat bow, and between the string were lavender stems with a small branch of wild berries.

Grim immediately indulged in the berries and the flowers, staining his little fangs and whiskers with the sweet sticky juice and purple petals. All the while exclaiming, “Oh, oh! I remember this letter. Some bird came to drop it and it flew away just before I could catch it...”

A short laugh escaped your lips as you hear him. “So that’s why you were grumbling this morning.”

Not wanting to be reminded again, he swat his paw at your nose as the feline hissed, “Shh! Just read already!”

Dear player,

I truly am deeply remorseful and I offer my sincerest apologies.

I was to be a knight, that has been something I have strived for ever since I was a child. A knight not just to serve Malleus but to protect others, and eventually I discovered my purpose was to serve you as well. But... all I did was stand idly by and watch the torment. Shortly after meeting your vessel, I had promised to shield you from all danger. I broke that promise.

I cannot imagine how frightened you must have been. Had just one person stop and thought things through, they may have realized the horrible mistake that was being made. Had I acted as soon as I felt the tug on my heart when I saw you weakened and on the dirt, I may have saved you from anymore pain.

Those eyes, your eyes, I see them in my sleep. You were scared, and through your gaze you were pleading for help, were you not? I see it every time I close my eyes. You witnessed it yourself, the very moment when I had failed you. You were right there, so close I could have extended a helping hand. But my grief rendered me sightless, all I could think of in that moment is how my heart ached and how I longed to see you again. Even if it was through your vessel. The rumors didn’t quite make any sense to me, as I wondered how could anyone possibly be so cruel as to tear you away from us?

Father had said that it would all be over soon. That capturing the imposter and bringing them to their knees, would make everything better. But when I saw you on the ground before we learned of your identity, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was alright. Would the player have wanted this? Would they have scorned upon witnessing the scene? Would this undoubtedly end the throbbing pain I felt in my heart? The pain was becoming unbearable, and I was not the only one to feel it. The news made little sense to me. Sebek insisted that it was true, and Father seemed to believe so as well. However, that is no excuse for how I went along as if it were okay.

You were innocent and helpless, you, the player, not only witnessed the scene but were the victim. I’m so sorry, I should have done something... If it were the only way to gain your forgiveness, I would spend every moment of my waking hours writing letters of apology. To do so I would keep myself awake for as long as humanely possible. If asked, I would use every moment to pen these letters, each different from the last. Although after several attempts in redoing this single letter, I realize that it would be a pointless endeavor.

After reflecting, the only way to make up for what I have do is be patient.

Be patient and await for word from you. I cannot force you, I cannot pressure you, I can only pause and prepare myself to do whatever I must in order to earn back your grace.

Please, do not keep me waiting too long. I know I have no right to ask you this. I’m willing to wait years if needed, but part of me has this fear that I will never regain a spot near your heart until I’m frail and feeble with age. Rest assured, even in old age, I would be willing to be your knight. Even if my bones ached, I would raise my sword and shield. If I couldn’t use my weakened legs, I would call upon a horse to be my steed. And if I were to become magicless, I would use the remainder of my physical strength to serve you.

If I may be honest with you? I have no idea what to do. Yes, I said I would wait, but what else can I do? What can I do to eventually secure a place beside you, if it were possible? In times of trouble I normally turn to Lilia and Malleus for advice, however, I am a bit unsettled by their approach to this delicate matter. Truthfully, I am anxious, but while they share the sentiment, they are oddly confident that things will turn out alright in the end. I am unsure how they can muster the self-assurance to quell their fears. Maybe they know something that I do not, and have decided not to share this secret for now...

Nevertheless, for now I’ll eagerly anticipate the day we can reunite just as I have dreamed. I greatly look forward to the second where not only I can see you smile once again and your eyes might finally look at me with content, but also the moment where all those I know might get the opportunity to be in your peaceful grace.

I’ve dragged this letter on for too long. If you were to take something away from this letter, let it be this: I will carry out your wishes. No matter what you may think of me, whether it be a positive or negative image in your mind, I will continue forward in your name. Even if you think me unfit for the title of knight, then consider me a humble servant instead. Nothing will shake my commitment, and I will do whatever it is you ask.

This is a pledge that will not be broken.

Cordially,

Silver

This letter felt a bit lighter than the others. Still, it was slightly intense in its own way, but it was nowhere near as extreme as the previous two were. And, maybe you had a better opinion on Silver, not because he was gentle with his words but because he was one of the very few who hadn’t threatened you, directly harmed you, or treated you cruelly.

But! He didn’t get a free pass just because of that. Yes, he may not have directly caused any harm, but he didn’t exactly help you either.

Grim had taken the letter from you, and inspected the paper in his paws. He held it above his head, scrunching up his nose a bit as he looked it over. “I dunno... he’s okay.”

At that, you roll your eyes a bit as a smirk crept up from the corner of your mouth. “You’re not just saying that because his letter came with a snack?”

“No! You think me easy to bribe? I think not! It would take a whole bucket full of berries just to get me to even discuss it. Then, I’d turn them down and take the berries anyways!” The feline proclaimed his brilliant plan should that situation ever arise. Maybe the gifts you allowed him to take were starting to get to his head. “But... he could be worse. Silver, as dumb as he was like everyone else, he did hear me out after they separated us.”

Silver did that? If that were true, it’s possible that he wasn’t as bad as the others who had wronged you.

“That’s... good to know.” You murmur as you pluck up another random envelope from the pile.

The last envelope you pick up before you planned to take a break was surprisingly plain. It was just that. A plain white envelope, sealed by green wax with what looked like a family crest that depicted a creature with fangs and scales. One of the corners was crinkled, as if it was gripped too tightly there.

As soon as you slid out the folded letter, you were bombarded by the ink. Whoever had wrote this, seemed like they applied too much force. This caused certain parts of some letters to be too round and heavy with ink that made those bits feel damp and stain your fingers the slightest bit. Like whoever wrote this, placed just as much pressure with their hands on the pen gliding across the page, as much pressure as they felt weighing on their mind.

Great Player,

As I pen this, I am on my hands and knees.

I have prepared a multitude of letters which I will send daily, so that now and in the future you will continue to hear my apology and know I truly mean it. One admission of regret is not enough. An apology is only an acknowledgment of an offense, it does not absolve one of their wrongdoings. I know this! So, I, Sebek Zigvolt, will atone by any means necessary!

To you, the player who I wronged and deserves nothing but happiness and perfection, I give my deepest sincerest profuse apology. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m SORRY. Right now when I look at my hands that I use to write, I’m reminded of the vicious way I grabbed you like some... heathen! These hands sullied your flawless self, and for that alone I will never forgive myself!

Had it not been for the wise words of Master Lilia and the bothersome yet logical reasoning from Silver, I would have been at your door everyday, every hour, begging for a second chance. In the midst of brainstorming, I presented my idea of crawling on hands and knees, from Diasomnia to the Ramshackle Dorm, to deliver the letter myself. Then, I would display whatever cuts or bruises formed on my palms and knees which I would receive from the rocky roads or thorns, that way you may see my devotion was true and no lengths are too great when it comes to you! No matter the pain or burden! The idea seems to appeal to Lord Malleus, but I was told that it comes off as too extreme...

But! I beg to differ!! I only consider it so that you may understand what I feel, so that you might comprehend the things I would do for you, and receive me back in your good graces! Additionally, delivering the letter in this manner would cause me as much or more physical pain than I caused you! It is a shame that things have come to this. I had wished so much for our first proper meeting to be one of joy where you might accept me as your knight! In spite of that, I will not falter in shame! If I were to deliver the following letters in that method I had detailed earlier, I would wear the scars proudly! It would be physical proof of my faithfulness towards you!

I am sorry, and I will continue to say it. Perhaps, this may be presumptuous of me, but if you consider it, Diasomnia did not torment you nearly as long as any other insolent dorm had! And! We retainers accompanied Lord Malleus every day to check on the wellbeing of your vessel, and watch over it while investigating various possible approaches on how to revive Yuu. We diligently did this until the moment we encountered your true self!

I swear to you, no one shall harm you from this moment forth!

From now on, I’ll march forward and see to it that you are never hurt ever again! This is something I know that my fellow dormmates will tirelessly work toward as well.

Have you realized that we have been guarding you and the serenity of your dorm in the past days? Have you not thought it strange that none have come to needlessly pester you? Yes, that is all thanks to the efforts of those in Diasomnia! Even when you do not realize it, we are insuring your welfare and the tranquility you require to recover! Of course, as much as I desperately want to inform you of the details, I will not. It is best you don’t know.

Now, I must be honest with you. Originally, I had planned this letter to be much longer and have contents that would have been much different than what you are currently reading. I aimed to be honest in my feelings! But before I could sign off on the original draft, I realized that the others may be in the right. It is possible that our devotion, my devotion, may come off as disquieting if I were completely sincere. I’ve had to restrain myself on many occasions, reminding myself to at least appear collected and controlled. That is not as easy as it sounds!

How could it be, when the one I must suppress my emotions and actions for, is you? That’s as if asking to repress part of my very soul and heart! I absolutely detest hiding it!! But when I remember this is for you and your own comfort, it becomes bearable. I can only hope that soon, very soon, I might be able to unveil my true sentiments towards you! As intense and extreme as they may be!

It seems that I’m nearing the word limit that they imposed. Once again, I apologize. I’ll have to contemplate new ways to write ‘sorry.’ I wish I could write a million more words for you! But even a million words wouldn’t be anywhere near a satisfactory amount for me to detail how much I revere you! And it would take more than another million words for me to write a full apology, but even then I wouldn’t be satisfied! No single letter is adequate enough, so be prepared to receive the rest I have written!

I will make sure they are delivered posthaste!

Faithfully,

Sebek Zigvolt

Great... you’re back to being unnerved again.

There was something about them all being so weirdly obsessed, but in vary different ways. Malleus and Lilia puzzled you, they had you feeling the most uneasy by far. Maybe it had to do with the fact that they were both not human, they were arcane beings with enigmatic personalities and objectives that were incomprehensible to you.

Out of the four, Silver was the only one that was fully human like yourself, but even he was a bit of a mystery as he was raised by the fae. It was hard to be wary of him, which was probably because your distrust and fear of him wasn’t as intense as it was towards the others due to his good nature and lack of actions he took during the whole disaster.

As for Sebek, well, he was unnerving in his own right but it was nowhere near on the level that Malleus and Lilia were on. At the very least he wasn’t a complete mystery to you. It was easy to figure out his intentions, because he either said them or wore them on his sleeve.

Your mind was spinning as you looked over the four letters, filled with lines upon lines and more lines of pages. In that moment your breath quickened as you noticed the cloudy sky outside. For a brief second, you feared you would see that familiar flash of green lightning, taking you back to that dark day when you nearly died. It’s like you could feel Sebek’s hands tightly gripping the back of your skull that forced you against the earth, you saw Silver’s sorrowful gaze that spoke a thousand words you didn’t yet understand, you heard Lilia’s words hinting to a doomed fate of becoming some lifeless doll, and god, you couldn’t forget him even if you wanted to. Malleus. He was the worst of all. You felt his nails and fingers constricting around your neck and squeezing out all the air, you saw his haunting green eyes with those slit pupils as he glowered at you with such anger and hate, and you heard what you had thought would be the last words you ever heard come from his lips––

“Hey!”

You were torn out of those dark thoughts by the feline in your lap. A concerned frown tugged at Grim’s lips, but once he saw he had your attention, he mustered a slight grin as he held up what looked like an armful of snacks. At least, as much as he could carry in his small paws. From his grin, you could see his little fangs still covered in the remnants of the berries and flower petals.

“Look, I found your favorite! This is getting boring, so let’s just take a break!”

3K notes · View notes

sargeant-bxrnes · 18 hours

Text

you’re how i pray.

summary: reluctantly, you found yourself reaching out to the church for guidance, to better your “wrongs.” only to meet father charlie and realize there was a whole world of sins you’ve yet to indulge in. [REQUESTED.]

pairings: charlie mayhew x fem!reader

warnings: conversations about religion and moral, blasphemy (?), charlie is a manipulative freak!. SMUT: this is DIRTYYYY, fingering (fem), oral (fem), unprotected sex, manhandling, dirty talk.

WC: 3.6K (sorry, i got into it)

my masterlist! requests are OPEN!

Your steps echoed against the cold stone floors of the church. The towering figure of your aunt walked ahead, moving with self-righteous purpose. You rolled your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek to stifle the irritation that boiled beneath your skin.

Of course, therapy had been a good start. You had actually been making progress, learning to manage your anger, to quiet the voice inside you that urged you to rebel against every rule, every boundary. But your family… they believed therapy wasn’t enough. They had another solution.

Father Charlie. You had heard of him. A young priest, charismatic and well-liked by the community.

Your aunt wasted no time, walking straight up to the office where Father Charlie stood. His presence was larger than life, draped in his priestly robes, and yet his eyes—those piercing brown eyes—held a spark that didn’t quite match the image of a humble servant of God.

“Father Charlie, thank you for meeting with us,” your aunt began, already launching into a tirade about you. Words like rebellious, problematic, and sinful spilled out as though they had been rehearsed. You stood there, arms crossed, glaring at the rows of candles flickering on the altar.

Father Charlie nodded sympathetically but his gaze never left you. He didn’t interrupt your aunt’s sermon, though, and once the woman was satisfied that she had delivered enough holy condemnation, she patted you on the shoulder.

“Father Charlie will talk to you, sweetie. He’ll help you.”

With that, your aunt left, leaving behind a cloud of forced piety. The silence settled in as Father Charlie waited until the doors shut behind her.

“Guessing by your expression, I’m sure this wasn’t your first option, coming to me.” he said, his voice unexpectedly soft.

You shrugged, leaning back against one of the wooden furnitures of his office. “Yeah. My family has unfortunately convinced themselves that I’m a lost cause, and that only God can save me. Or so.”

Father Charlie smiled, and something about it made you feel more cautious than comforted. “Why do you think people see you that way?”

The question took you by surprise. Not the usual condescending lecture, not yet, anyway. “Because I don’t see the point in all these rules they’re obsessed with. I do whatever I want, and that annoys people. We’re born into this world, and instead of living the lives we want, we’re told what to do from the moment we can speak. Doesn’t that sound a little… cruel to you?”

“Rules are there to keep the community together. Without them, society would fall apart.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Maybe. But what’s the point if those rules only help some people? The rich keep getting richer, while the rest of us… we’re always at the bottom. And that’s okay as long as we obey, right?”

“So, you think life is about doing whatever you want? No restrictions at all?”

“Not exactly,” you said. “I just think people should be free to make their own choices. To live without constant guilt and fear hanging over them. This whole idea that we’re supposed to follow blindly or be damned… it doesn’t sit right with me.”

The priest studied you for a moment, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze. “Do you believe in God?”

Your lips pressed together in a thin line. “I don’t know. Maybe there’s something out there, something bigger than us. But the people in this community? The hypocrisy. The way they use their faith to control others. It’s toxic.”

Father Charlie nodded slowly. “You’re not the first to feel that way. But you’re not as alone as you think, either.”

“What do you mean?”

His smile was back, but this time, it held something else. Something darker. “Let’s just say… not everyone in this church follows the rules as strictly as you might think.”

A shiver crept down your spine, but you couldn’t tell if it was fear or something else. His words, his tone—they didn’t match the image of the holy man you had been expecting. You sat down on the couch, to keep some distance.

“Let’s talk more,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “I’m curious about your thoughts on freedom. On life… on sin.”

Your pulse quickened as he took a seat next to you, far too close for comfort, but you didn’t move. There was something magnetic about him. Dangerous, but magnetic.

“You know,” Charlie began, his fingers lightly tracing the soft edge of the couch beneath both, “a lot of people in your position feel trapped by expectations. You said it yourself: you don’t like the way rules seem to be designed to keep some people down.”

You nodded slowly, unsure where this was leading, but already feeling a shift in the atmosphere.

He tilted his head, his gaze holding yours, and there was a glimmer of amusement—something almost wicked—in his eyes. “You’re not wrong to want freedom. To want more. But what you have to understand is that most people… they’re too afraid to admit it.”

“Too afraid?”

“Yes. They bury their desires under obedience, hoping it will make them feel whole. But deep down, they crave… more. They want to push against those boundaries.” He leaned in closer, his tone growing silkier. “Don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” you said, though you did know. It just didn’t feel safe to admit it—not to yourself, and definitely not to him. “I mean, I get frustrated, but… it’s not like I’m going to rebel against everything.”

“What if you did? What if, just for a moment, you allowed yourself to explore that side of you? The one that questions. The one that craves freedom… and maybe, other things?” Charlie’s eyes sparkled with something that felt far more dangerous than faith.

Other things. The way he said it, as if it were an invitation, hung heavily between both. You could feel the tension building, the heat.

“I think…” you started, your voice shaky, “I think people would lose their minds if I did something like that.”

His lips curled into a slow, knowing grin. “Maybe that’s exactly what they need.”

He let the words sink in before continuing, his voice dipping into something darker, more seductive. “You don’t need to live your life based on what others expect of you. There’s power in choosing for yourself.“

This conversation wasn’t going the way you’d imagined. You had expected judgment, correction—but instead, he was… encouraging you.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper now.

You looked away, feeling a flush creep up your neck. “I don’t know.”

“You’re lying,” Charlie said softly, his voice dipping even lower. “I think you know exactly what you want. You just haven’t allowed yourself to feel it fully.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs, and you couldn’t ignore the way his words wrapped around you like a dark temptation. There was a part of you that did want something—something wild, something free, something dangerous. But this? Here? With him?

“It’s okay to admit it,” Charlie said, leaning closer, his lips dangerously close to your ear now. “Sometimes… surrendering to what you really desire is more powerful than fighting it.”

Your breath caught, and for a second, you leaned into him, drawn by the magnetism of his words. It was intoxicating—the way he seemed to know exactly what to say. But you pulled back, confusion warring with the strange attraction that was blooming inside you.

“You’re a priest,” you said, as though reminding him—and yourself—would somehow break the spell.

Charlie chuckled, the sound low and smooth. “I am. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand temptation. Sin is… fascinating, isn’t it? Especially the kind that makes you question everything you thought you knew about yourself.”

There was something so wrong about this conversation, and yet, you couldn’t deny the pull. The way he was making you feel—seen, understood, even desired—was something you hadn’t expected to find in this place.

He held your gaze, his confidence palpable. “You crave connection. An escape from the chains of expectation. You want to live life on your terms, even if that means stepping outside the lines drawn by those who think they know better. I admire that.”

“You really don’t know what you’re getting into,” you said, trying to regain some control.

“Perhaps,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly charming way. “But what if I’m willing to take that risk? To explore those uncharted waters with you?”

“Is that what you do with all the girls who come in here, Father?” you shot back, trying to mask the way your pulse quickened at the thought.

“Most don’t provoke me the way you do,” he said, his voice low and velvety. “They’re afraid to stray too far from the righteous path. But you… you have a light about you that beckons me closer. It’s intoxicating.”

Your cheeks warmed under his intense scrutiny, but you quickly shook your head, refusing to be swayed. “You shouldn’t say things like that. You’re a priest.”

“Ah, but that’s the thing, isn’t it?” he replied smoothly, his gaze unflinching. “What does that really mean? I wear the collar, sure, but I’m also a man—one who understands the darker desires that lie beneath the surface. You’re drawn to them, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I’m just curious,” you replied, attempting to sound nonchalant.

“Curiosity is a dangerous game,” he said, his voice a seductive whisper. “Especially when it leads you to someone like me. You could explore all the answers to your questions, and perhaps even find the absolution you didn’t know you were seeking—if you dare to take that step.”

“And what’s the price for that?” you challenged, not ready to give in but undeniably intrigued.

“Just your trust,” he said, his gaze piercing through your defenses. “Let me guide you. Allow me to show you that the rules can bend, that the lines can blur. And in return, you’ll discover a side of yourself you never knew existed. It’s a fair exchange, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” you finally replied, your voice barely above a whisper, “but I’m not so easily led.”

He leaned in closer, their faces mere inches apart. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He ran his thumb delicately along your lower lip. “Lose yourself in me. Let me be your forbidden pleasure, your dark indulgence. Together, we can create a sin so divine, it will set your soul free.”

You feel his thumb diving inside your mouth. He pressed his thumb deeper, exploring the warm, wet cavern of your mouth as if mapping your innermost terrain.

“Mmmm, so eager to please," he purred, his other hand sliding down your side to grip your hip, holding you steady. "Your mouth was made for sin." With a subtle twist, he coaxed your tongue to swirl around the intrusion, a sinful game of give-and-take that left you breathless and wanting more. "Such a willing little temptress,"

And before you can process, he’s kissing you. And things gets heated, fast. It doesn’t seem to matter that you both were sitting on the couch from his office, inside the church. He claimed your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue plunging in to dance with yours in a primal, urgent rhythm. The scent of your arousal mingled with the musky undertones of his cologne, fogging the air with a heady, addictive haze. His hands roamed your body, possessive and demanding, as he pulled you closer, his own arousal throbbing against the confines of his trousers.

“So sweet," he growled against your lips, breaking the kiss only to nip and suck his way down your neck, leaving a trail of heated, open-mouthed kisses. "Such a delicious little sin."

His fingers deftly unfastened the buttons of your blouse, revealing the lacy bra beneath and the creamy swells of your breasts. You gasped, feeling his lips on your skin. Desperate and wanton, hungry.

He kissed and licked a path downward, pausing to toy with the lacy edge of your bra before tugging the delicate fabric aside with his teeth. His hot mouth closed over the swell of your breast, his tongue swirling to coax forth a responsive moan. His lips slid lower, fixating on your nipple. He suckled, the rhythmic pull of his lips and the scrape of his teeth sending jolts of pleasure-pain shooting through your sensitive flesh.

“Mmmm, you taste so divine," he purred, his free hand sliding up your thigh to brush against the damp fabric of your panties. "Every inch of you is made for sin."

You could foresee his intentions even before he started to move. His lips went lower down your chest, over your stomach, to the waistband of your skirt. With practiced ease, he slid his hands down your curves, peeling away the last of your garments with a hunger that bordered on reverence.

Your skirt and panties joined the discarded heap of your blouse and bra on the floor, leaving you bare and vulnerable beneath his intense scrutiny. His eyes raked over you, drinking in every inch of exposed flesh as if committing it to memory. The sight of you, spread out before him, was a feast for his sinful appetites.

“Exquisite," he breathed, his voice thick with desire. "You're a vision of decadence. I'm going to indulge in every moment of our encounter, savoring every morsel of pleasure you offer me."

With that, he sank to his knees before you, his fingers brushing against your inner thighs as he gazed up at you with a wicked promise in his eyes. He leaned in, his breath a hot whisper against your most intimate flesh.

And he went at it, eager to devour. He started off with a long, languid lick with the flat of his tongue, licking from the edge of your slit all the way to the clit. It was utterly sinful, erotic.

He lapped at you, his long, dexterous tongue swirling and delving with a sinful expertise that made you gasp and squirm. The flat of his tongue glided along your slit, gathering your sweet essence before he darted the tip to tease the sensitive bump of your clit. He licked and suckled, alternating between long, languid strokes and fast, frantic jabs of his tongue, each one designed to drive you a little crazier with need.

“You taste so good,," he purred, his words muffled against your pulsing flesh. "I could eat this sweet cunt all day and never tire of it."

Two fingers slipped inside you, stretching and filling you as his tongue continued its relentless assault. He pumped them in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue's movements as he brought you closer to the edge. His fingers curled, seeking that special spot that would send you plummeting into ecstasy. With each pass, his touch grew firmer, more insistent, as if trying to coax the very essence of your being from your depths. His lips and tongue never ceased their worship of your clit, suckling and flicking against the throbbing nub in a maddening dance of pleasure and desperation.

He could feel you teetering on the brink, your sweet cum flooding his fingers as your hips bucked and writhed in mindless need. His tongue worked frantically against your clit, a dizzying whirl of licks and suckles that left you breathless and begging for more. One last, long lick, and you were sent hurtling over the edge, your orgasm ripping through like a thunderclap.

“Yes," he hummed, his voice a reverent whisper. "Let it happen. Let me feel you cum for me." And as the waves of your climax crashed over you, he remained, drinking in every last drop of your release like a man dying of thirst.

And you thought that would be it, but no. He rearranged you, laying you down as he stripped off his cassock in a hurried tug. The garment joined the pile of your clothes, and he wasted no time unfastening his belt and shucking off his trousers. His massive cock sprang free, the thick, pulsing length already flushed and throbbing with need.

He loomed over you, his thick, throbbing cock jutting out before him like a red-hot brand, burning with the need for release. With a knee, he pushed your legs apart, spreading you in blatant invitation, before positioning himself between your thighs. One hand tipped your chin up, forcing you to meet his burning gaze as he lined himself up with your most intimate entrance.

“Last chance to turn back," he growled, the tip of his cock notched against your aching flesh. "Once I sink into you, there's no going back. You'll be mine, body and soul." He paused, his expression almost wistful. "But I know you won't refuse me. You want this, as much as I do."

With that, he surged forward, burying himself in your warmth with a groan of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

He filled you slowly, deliberately, each inch a decadent slide into heaven as he stretched you impossibly wide around his girth. The sensation was overwhelming, the burn of his intrusion mixing with the sweet, tingling pleasure that only he could evoke. When he finally bottomed out, he paused, savoring the feeling of being completely sheathed within you. He was huge, and you could feel every throbbing inch of him as he pulsed and twitched inside you.

“So perfect," he breathed, his voice low and husky with satisfaction. He took a deep breath, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he fought to regain his composure. "You were made for me. Every curve, every hollow, every inch of your sweet cunt is tailor-made to take my cock."

He began to move, slow and deep at first, withdrawing until only the thick head remained before plunging back in, his strokes growing firmer, more insistent as he lost himself in the mindless pleasure of the joining. — He took you like a man possessed, his pace growing faster, more erratic as he chased his release. The couch creaked in protest beneath both, the sound mingling with the ragged breathing and the obscene squelch of his cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy. Your back arched, pushing your pert breasts toward his devouring mouth as he feasted on one while still pounding into you. He growled against your skin, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation to the maelstrom of pleasure wracking your body.

Your eyes rolled back, feeling him pounding deep into your cunt as he suckled your tit. Wary, you used a hand to cover your mouth, trying to muffle the sound.

His mouth left your breast with a wet pop, and he sealed his lips over yours in a fierce, dominating kiss. His tongue invaded, claiming yours in a sensual dance that left both breathless. All the while, he continued his relentless pace, his cock pistoning in and out of you with brutal efficiency. He could feel your walls fluttering around him, your sweet cream coating his shaft as you teetered on the brink of another orgasm. With a groan, he broke the kiss, his eyes blazing with a primal intensity as he prepared to unleash his own release.

“Cum for me," he commanded, his voice a raw, desperate snarl. "Take my cock, just like that. Fuck- come for me. Come on my cock.”

The mix of the sensations and the sheer desperation on his voice, how needy it suddenly sounded did it for you. As your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your inner walls clamped down around him like a vice, cum gushing out to coat his cock and balls. The sensation was enough to tip him over the edge, and with a hoarse bellow, he buried himself to the hilt and came, his thick seed pulsing deep inside you as his body shuddered and spasmed.

“Fuck!" he gasped, his hands gripping your hips like an anchor as he rode out the waves of his climax. "Yes... oh, god... yes..." He collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the couch as he struggled to catch his breath.

As you recovered, you started to process. Thinking to yourself. Did you- did you just fuck a priest? Maybe you ARE as troublesome as people claim.

He slowly pulled out of you, his softening cock slipping free with a wet plop. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss, his eyes never leaving yours. "Don't overthink it, my sweet," he murmured against your mouth. "Just enjoy the afterglow."

He leaned on his elbow, his free hand gently brushing the hair from your face as he took in your flushed, sated features.

"We've both crossed lines. Lines we can't simply erase. But perhaps that's for the best. Perhaps this is the key to setting you free." A sly smile played on his lips as he stood, his naked form glistening with sweat in the dim light. "Now, how about we continue this little sin of ours in the bed, hmm?"

And as that idea enticed you… you realized that perhaps you ARE a lost cause.

#grotesquerie #fic rec #nicholas chavez #priest kink #priest mayhew #charlie mayhew #charlie mayhew smut #grotesquerie smut #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez smut #smut #i’m down bad for this man #i don’t even know what to tag this #priest mayhew smut #priest charlie mayhew smut #ahs smut

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spider-chris06 · 1 year

Text

Do you know why Spider-Verse Miles is my favorite Spider-Man?

He, without having a choice, had to do in two days, what took all the other Spider-Sonas in the multiverse weeks, become Spider-Man, all under the unimaginable pressure of being the successor to the previous Spider-Man of his universe, which left the bar too high, having to meet everyone else's expectations, and having to go through a tortuous journey while learning from his mentor.

Even when the spider-gang not only didn't trust him but even seemed to dislike Miles at first (Except, of course, Gwen and Peter B, who are very special cases)

And pressing him to see if he was ready and treating him like just a kid (Even Peni).

All so that he then went to his uncle, who was like a second father to him and someone who truly understood Miles, only to find out that he had always been a hitman, going so far as to almost end with the life of his nephew, until he realizes what he was about to do and... well, tragedy happens.

The death of Uncle Aaron, due to the depth and history behind it, remains the most tragic "death of Uncle Ben" in all of cinema... ever.

Miles stopped being the same since then, and even when a hurricane of emotions possessed him, he learned that no matter what, Spider-Man always gets up and keeps going, at the same time he learned to take his leap of faith. Before becoming Spider-Man he had a normal and happy life, but after being bitten by that spider his whole life fell apart, but of course, Miles is someone truly strong and full of determination thanks to the people close to him.

In two days, he surpassed almost the entire Spider-gang, and in a year and a half he become almost a professional as Spider-Man, even giving lessons to everyone else, and making it clear to Gwen and the others what truly means being Spider-Man, not standing by crossed arms while someone is in danger, but trying to do everything you can to save everyone, doing both things, even when it seems impossible, Spider-Man should always try, because everything it's possible.

At the same time that Miles felt stabbed in the back by the same people to whom he wanted to dedicate his entire future just to see them again since he felt alone and sad inside in the world without them, and, specially, without Gwen.

And let me remind something, Miles actually thinks she doesn't even love him and only sees him as a friend, but he still wants to see her

On the ATSV betrayal, he release all that hurricane of emotions that he had to swallow and accumulate inside during ITSV and during that entire year and a half for not having time for ALL those things said before, leading him to have anxiety and panic attacks (Something confirmed in the synopsis of the short "The Spider Within")

All so that they later reveal to him that he was a mistake, an anomaly, that he should never have been Spider-Man, that he killed the Peter of his universe, causing everything that gave MEANING to his life fell down in just a few minutes, leaving Miles more traumatized, mortified and with more trust issues than he already had before.

He really became one of the most tragic character of all the saga (Along with Peter B and, put it in some way, Miguel O' Hara)

And just because Miles looks with a cool and chill personality doesn't mean he's any less traumatized and mortified on the inside (An example is Andrew Garfield's Spider-Man).

Even though in the comics that nickname is only used because that is what his universe is called, in the movies, on the other hand, even though there are people on the internet who deny the fact that he is currently becoming an unstoppable phenomenon that is marking an entire generation and will mark future generations, Miles Morales proved to be, without a doubt, the Ultimate Spider-Man.

As a bonus, even though she always screwed up with everyone around her, both the living and the dead, Gwen showed that she really loves Miles and that he truly is the love of her life, however, needless to say, she has a lot of work to do in her redemption arc to be able to fix things with Miles, which will be very difficult but not impossible, even more so taking into account all the hate she received for everything that happened in ATSV.

Now she has to PROVE not only to him, but to all of us viewers, that she truly deserves to be with Miles, that they can have a life together by her own merit, and that all the hate towards her after the ATSV release it's truly unfair.

However, I have to be realistic, there are characters like Peni or even Peter B who should not be anything more than simple 'acquaintances' or 'partners' for Miles, since, with what they did, the term "Friend" It's too big for them.

In any case, Miles has the last word.

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spookieloverslittlemind · 1 month

Text

Their favourite part of you (emotionally)…

includes: Michael Myers, Pinhead, Brahms Heelshire, Art the Clown, Sun and Moon (fnaf), Marta (Outlast 2)

Michael

Your warmth - naturally, what Michael appreciates most about you is what he has never received from anyone else in his life: warmth. You look at him and see more than just The Shape; you can dare to look at him and treat him with affection. Tenderness. It’s an alien sensation, and Michael can’t agree that it makes him happy, because happiness isn’t something he really feels, but it does make him feel…at peace. Content. Michael can’t reciprocate your warmth, but he does try to reciprocate your affection in a rigid sort of way, and that’s how you know he appreciates the trait in you.

Pinhead

Your understanding - there is nothing Pinhead loves more than learning new things; you being able to teach him every intricate detail of you: your life, your friends, your family, your job, your body, your likes and dislikes, without judging him for all of the questions he asks of you and instead just understanding that he wants to learn you, means the world to him. Pinhead never wants to frustrate you unless it’s sexually, so you understanding him so deeply and appreciating the layers of his being rather than fearing him at a surface level, opens his eyes to the depth of human beings.

Brahms

Your patience - Brahms is aware that he’s incredibly needy and has been known to act up to get attention, so your patience with him means absolutely everything; that you don’t discipline him with any kind of harsh punishment, instead gentleness, teaching him that he doesn’t need to misbehave or do things he knows will upset you when all he wants is your attention. Learning that he can simply ask for that from you is a monumental step from Brahms, because he is so accustomed to only getting emotional responses from his parents when he did something wrong. Your patience shows him a different way, a more peaceful and loving way, that has him feeling more cherished than ever.

Art

Your skittish nature - to be honest, there is nothing Art loves more than scaring you; to hide behind corners and jump out at you, startle you awake, the fact you never adapt or learn to expect it and continue to just jump out of your skin every single time? Art loves it. And he loves the aftermath, too, when he drags you into his arms to coddle and rock you with silent shushes while he plays with your hair, rubbing your arms to soothe you, like he’s not the reason you just experienced palpitations. It’s a lovely little game of manipulation that Art adores, and you learn to love for the cuddles you get afterwards. Call it aftercare.

Sun and Moon

Your kindness - your ability to amend your kindness to apply most efficiently to both Sun and Moon never fails to amaze them; you so easily switch from being kind and encouraging and fun for Sun, to being calm and reassuring for Moon, and both states are simply examples of the kindness that radiates from you. So few have ever bothered to learn the intricate differences between Sun and Moon, but you have, and you’ve done so out of kindness, to treat them both with kindness that best suits them as individuals. Two halves of a whole, yes, but two entirely separate halves, and when either malfunction, it is always you that is sent to deescalate the situation because only you know how to best get through to them.

Marta

Your submission - not even in a kinky way (though that definitely also applies), but the way you submit both to her and to God like it’s in your nature regardless of your personal belief system; that you don’t judge or question her faith beyond asking what she or God would suggest to guide you with certain moral dilemmas etc. You accept her as she is and you trust her completely to care for you, for both of you, and leave righteous lives down your intertwined paths. Marta’s faith is her only experience and understanding of love, and it is through that she learns a different kind of love, with you. Had you defied her, or held any trait above your submission, she probably would have just killed you (hot) x

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uknowmesblog · 3 months

Text

Waking up was a bit rough for you, scuffed by a masked man and hauled out of the car making you shriek like a banshee. You pleaded, yelled that you're kidnapped and hold against your will. But who will bat an eye at the man that emanate danger and got a palm wrapped around the back of your neck? Not the soldiers around the base that's clear.

He manhandled you with no effort on the hallway and pushed you in an office making you sit on a chair in front of a desk.

“She’s annoying.” He grunted, taking a few steps back.

“You brute”

“Thank you, Ghost.” A voice made you sit straight, shivers dancing along your back and demanding attention. You looked at him, old and rough around the edges with blue eyes that could melt ice. A rugged beard neatly trimmed enveloping his warm smile, but your eyes continue to travel down. Muscles covered by a dark shirt, making him look as deadly as Ghost.

Ghost..

Your fantasy now has a nickname, isn't that cute?

“I don't want to be here” You snapped, even if the definition of “Daddy please” was making you squirm under his intense gaze.

“Hmm, but you enrolled yourself.” He smirked, making you huff “Name’s Price, the Captain.”

You pursed your lips, mumbling your name under your breath and he nodded writing something. He got a speech about you honoring your father’s legacy, being a brave soul and so on.

“Sorry, did you hear her wailing on the hallway?” Ghost interrupted him, saving you.

“I did, good lungs what can I say” He chuckled low.

“Look, I have an agreement for you.” You rushed, ready to try and plead your case.

“Go on”

“Let me leave with no repercussions.” You smiled sweetly, doe eyes watching from under long lashes that fluttered a little faster.

“And what’s in for me?’ He leaned over the desk, watching you closely.

“Saving you a headache.” Shrugging a shoulder, you leaned back against the chair.

“You underestimate my patience.” He laughed, Ghost sighing behind you.

“I can be very annoying, a nightmare.”

“We are soldiers, nothing is too nightmare material at this point.” Oh, he is challenging you with that smirk, isn't he?

“I am spoiled rotten”

“Nothin’ that military can’t shape.” He looked behind you and nodded. “or Ghost”

“I have tummy aches often”

“We got an infirmary and a good nurse”

“I’m weak”

“We will train you”

“I don’t have stamina”

“Oh, we can build that up pretty easily.” He winked, causing a blush to make its way up your neck and your cheeks. That’s a double meaning meant to disarm you.

“I will-” Hand raised, halting you.

“Enough. I have your father word that’s there some faith in you. We wasted time with your application, we are already past the whining.” He pushed a formular in front of you and a pen, one finger pointing the signing line. “Be an adult and own your responsibility, you brought this upon yourself.”

“Or you can beg and we can find a solution love.” You whipped your head so fast, bone cracking while your gaze burned a hole in his head.

“Why, you like it?” You asked sarcastic.

“Verry” Mouth open, you couldn't believe how such a stoic facade can spew so much bullshit. You looked at the paper like it’s personally offending you, grabbing the pen and getting mentally ready to sign away your whole life.

“I will be the worse person you ever meet, sir” You bite, signing furiously over the line.

“Looking forward grumpy, now go and unpack. Later you'll meet the other two muppets” He took the paper, Ghost already waiting in the doorway with a bored expression.

You got up, dragging your feet and mumbling profanities loud enough. You stopped next to Ghost, looking at him with intensity.

“Your mask is stupid.” He quietly laughed and wrapped his palm around your neck again, dragging you.

“Stupid will be if we need to discipline that dirty mouth, now shut up.”

“I can walk!”

“And also, you are sulking and slowing me down.”

You didn't say anything, letting him drag you and kind of enjoying the heat of his hand. Once both of you stopped in front of a door, your troller already waiting with your backpack next to it, you looked left and right.

“This is our space, only 5 rooms and a common room with a tv and kitchen for us. Make yourself comfortable.” He mocked you, opening the door to your room.

Tears burning behind your eyes, watching the dull room. Or prison room? White walls, one dressing, one bed, one desk and one chair. The bed didn't even look comfortable, thin mattress, a harsh looking comforter and one plain pillow. One!

“This is a prison or a joke” You gasped, entering the small space, seeing another door.

“At least you have a bathroom, make the most of it. Home sweet home and shits like that.” Ghost said disappearing behind another door next to yours.

Your mind already working to ask Daniele, your childhood best friend, to have some kind of faith and send you a lot of necessities for this dungeon.

The bathroom of course it wasn't much, the basic with a shower and all that. Everything is so white, harsh and bland.

“Fucking bastards” You grumbled, starting to unpack your things, putting mr. Bubbles on the bed, making the room look less hostile.

You are stuck here for a while, so you better make the most of it. You have a few weeks in front of you to convince everyone that your presence here is a mistake, a big one.

Good luck Soldier!

Yippie

I love that people enjoyed my lil word vomit, I'm an anxious girlie and everyone is so sweet omg!

@nes-kopi this is for you <3

@brxghtlxghtz hope you don't mind the tag, I like hearing your opinion! <3

#soap #poly 141 x reader #141 x reader #ghoap x reader #call of duty x y/n #tf 141 x reader #ghostsoap reader #captain john price #john price #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz cod #gaz garrick #gaz call of duty #141

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strawbeelemonade · 1 year

Note

We need more of spider punk❤️❤️❤️

ROMANTIC HEADCANNONS (Part 2!): Hobart brown

GIF by fizzytoo

SO many requests for this guy,,, i hope you like!

🕷 - hobbie likes watching you stand up for yourself.

🕷 - he knows you have spunk, no matter how deep down, it’s there.

🕷 - it thrills him to see you fight back, fills him with satisfaction. He will back you up in a heartbeat, no matter what it is he will fight with you and for you.

🕷 - he’ll fall back to back with you, you won’t have to worry when fighting along side him, let yourself go and spread CHAOS. He’s got your back

🕷 - he’s very deep thinking. He values your morals, your conviction and who you are in the face of hardships.

🕷 - He thinks real hard about what he chooses to put his faith in. And that includes you.

🕷 - he trusts you with his life.

🕷 - he’s a bit of a wanderer. There isn’t really a reliable routine he follows, so you might go a little while without seeing him.

🕷 - but don’t worry, he’ll always come back to you. He won’t leave you lonely for too long, gorgeous.

🕷 - he’ll pay you random visits just because!

🕷 - and by that I mean he’ll let himself in.

🕷 - its not uncommon for him to show up in the middle of the night, and if your not asleep, he offers to sneak you out for a few hours of fun.

🕷 - It’s alright, beautiful/handsome, there’s no safer place then by his side.

🕷 - If you live here, you’ll know that the UK can get pretty cold, especially at night. he’ll lend you his jacket if he catches you shivering

🕷 - Hobie will take you to concerts. You’re his first choice.

🕷 - he’s got a lot of connections and he can get you in easily.

🕷 - if you think he is anywhere other than right in the front then you are CRAZY. and he wants you right there with him.

🕷 - the music is so loud it’ll shoot through your chests, filling both your senses. sharing that exhilaration with you means a lot to him.

🕷 - he keeps you close to him the whole time, and makes sure you don’t get too roughed up by the other people around you.

🕷 - If it all gets too much don’t worry, he knows a cushy spot in the rafters away from all the people, and its a great view.

🕷 - when Hobie’s the one on stage he’ll be looking for you in the crowd

🕷 - he plays better when your there

🕷 - knowing your eyes are on him makes him more bold.

🕷 - don’t take your eyes off of him. Don’t you dare look away. He wants to see your face.

🕷 - he’s on the run a lot, so he’ll need to crash at your place often to lay low.

🕷 - “thanks, doll. I knew you wouldn’t mind.”

🕷 - if you play guitar he will play solo’s with you

🕷 - if you don’t know how to play he’ll sit behind you and rest his hands over your own, pressing your fingers into the right chords.

🕷 - his chest pressing in to your back are the least of your worries, though. His breathe is hot and his lips are soft. And, oh! your cheek and jaw, which are his favourite places to kiss, are completely exposed.

🕷 - good luck.

🕷 - he’ll give you piggy back rides.

🕷 - wrap your arms around him as tightly as you want. He doesn’t mind. his hair might tickle your face as he turns his head to give you a peck on the cheek, though.

🕷 - when you both sleep next to each other you won’t have to worry about his hair getting in your face. He’ll wear a wrap.

🕷 - his hair is NICE in the movie. those wicks were P R I S T I N E

🕷 - if you play with the little baby hairs poking out from the bundle then he’ll be all over you I bet he’d love that.

🕷 - if he loses his wrap then he might use his mask in a pinch. It’d be really fun if the inside was lined with silk just to keep his hair nice.

🕷 - If he sleeps in that then your gonna have to put something on the spikes to stop them from poking you 😭

🕷 - "nah fam i am not sticking marhsmellows on my head."

🕷 - Honk shoo

🕷 - he will pierce you ears for you.

🕷 - he knows how to sew. mending clothes are more cost effective, and punks have been DIYing outfits since the very beginning.

🕷 - if you don't know how, he can hem or mend your clothes. like i don't he he knows just surface level knowledge either. Hobbie is IN the sewing community

🕷 - he'd get zesty with it too!

🕷 - yeah, he could sew your clothes to look good as new, but have you seen visible decorative mending? there are so many ways to get creative with mending- his personality would really shine through in his work.

🕷 - your favourite pair of jeans that used to have a hole in the knee are now fixed, but with am embroidered spider web spriraling outwards.

🕷 - this is an example of how incredibly thoughtful he is. he spends lots of time and love to turn something broken into something new. and thats one of the ways he'll show you he loves you.

🕷 - you won't really ever be questioning if he loves you though.

🕷 - he's blunt. he'll let you know.

🕷 - tee hee

🕷 - Hobart doesn’t really get Jealous.

🕷 - But he LOVES rubbing your relationship in any clueless suitor’s face when he gets the chance.

🕷 - after watching the movie I am 100% certain that he is willing to clock someone over the head for you.

🕷 - intimidation tactics work great to ward off most creeps. But some people need a demonstration.

🕷 - his hand will snake around your lower tummy or waist, and he pulls you flush against himself

🕷 - he’d lean down to whisper “is this one bothering you?”. Real quietly so no one else can hear.

🕷 - if your friends with Hobart, your friends with Pavitr.

🕷 - and if your dating Hobart, then your basically gonna date him too LMAO

🕷 - Pav thinks you're both so cute! You have his full support. He is INVESTED. The moment he sees you after rough housing with Hobie he gasps! Hello you!

🕷 - he’s all over you.

🕷 - Pav thinks you’re a sweetheart. If Hobie isn’t there you can count on him to have your back.

🕷 - I’ve said this before but he’s canonically got a good read on people, and that’s probably especially so for his best friend.

🕷 - and so he sees how happy you make him. Pav absolutely treasures you.

🕷 - Chances are you'll end up getting close with Gwen too! she stays over in other universes since her situation back in her own isn't great. you guys end up hanging out because of it and ya'll grow close.

#spider man #across the spiderverse #spiderverse x reader #into the spiderverse #into the spider verse #spiderman x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobart brown x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk #hobie brown #into the spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse x reader #itsv #itsv x reader #atsv #atsv hobie #atsv x reader

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gaysindistress · 3 months

Text

Idk why but alibi seems so Simon Riley coded.

Simon Riley masterlist

Simon Riley is a reformed man. The military broke him down and rebuilt him into a machine of unknown limits. His enemies thought him to be invincible, indestructible even. Since leaving the military behind, he’s done what he can to be normal or whatever version of normal he can achieve while knowing how to end a man’s life with his bare hands.

His hands may be calloused but they are gentle as they caress your body at night and when he picks berries in your garden. His voice may be coarse but it carries reassurance when you’re sobbing after the 6th orgasm that night and when your dogs are scared of the rain storm. His gaze may be hardened but it holds love for you when you move against him, chasing your joint releases and when you excitedly show him your new book. His body may be scarred but it matches yours perfectly when he’s pressing you against the shower wall and when you pick out his outfit for a date.

You are his everything and so much more. When he’s lost faith in himself, he looks to you and is reminded that even when the light looks like it’s dimming, you will always be there for him. When his demons become louder than his voice, he focuses on yours to bring him back and make him feel safe again. When he catches someone making you comfortable, he finds serenity in your eyes and promises to leave as soon as he goes to the bathroom. When his hands are cut and his eyes have that Ghost look, he trusts you to care for him and being back Simon. When the police show up asking where he was three nights ago, he tells them that he was with you the whole night because it’s the truth.

He was with you and you’ll tell them that too. You are his alibi, his light, his heart, his soul. He’s become a different man for you.

#simon riley x female reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x female reader #ghost imagine #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost #cod x reader #cod

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bots-and-cons · 11 days

Note

Just saw that your requests are open and would like to request an angst/no comfort scenario for Megatron.

Imagine his romantic partner defected to the autobots because of the violent behavior of the cons and was presumed MIA. Once both fractions are on earth, the s/o shows up and both meet each other again after a long time during a fight.

I hope everything is understandable. (Sorry for grammar mistakes, english is not my main languages)

A/N: Oh boy, I love writing angst and the little sprinkle of “no comfort” is just great lol. I also have this scenario which I wrote like years ago, but it’s also total angst with Megatron. I also got an idea for a part 2. Idk if I’ll ever get around to it, but we’ll see

He couldn’t believe his optics. It was you, it was really you. The video from his troops' first battle on this puny planet was playing on the screen and you were right there. You were fighting against the decepticons you had once been a part of, alongside the autobots and that damned Prime.

“Turn it off” Megatron growled at Starscream.

“That traitor, I’ll have them disassembled for this” Starscream hissed as he paused the feed.

“You will do no such thing! Now leave me!” Megatron raised his voice, not even glancing at the seeker.

His optics were fixed on the screen. It couldn’t be anyone else, he knew that frame as well as he did his own, or at least he did in the past. How many more scars had you acquired during your time away from him? How much had you changed? How much had the autobots managed to brainwash you for you to fight alongside them?

Back when you had joined the autobots, you had been lost. You couldn’t stand the decepticons and their cruelty anymore, but above all you couldn’t watch what Megatron was becoming. He wasn’t the same mech you had fallen in love with so long ago. You had tried to reason with him so many times, but it always seemed to fall on deaf ears. Even the way he looked at you wasn’t the same as it had been. There was something dark about it, something wrong. You weren’t even sure if there was love in his optics anymore when he looked at you. It was such a drastic contrast to the warm, loving gaze the two of you once shared. So you left, you left behind all your friends, everyone you knew and your whole life. You hoped that maybe you could make up for some of the pain you had caused by joining the autobots.

You had a reputation among the autobots of course. The partner of Megatron, the mech that was the root of all evil. The one who had stood by the most terrible warlord the galaxy had ever seen, while he had destroyed your home planet and slaughtered countless of your fellow cybertronians. You knew you had a responsibility to try to balance the scales. You just wished you’d realized it sooner.

Megatron needed to find you, he needed to know why and how you disappeared. The thought of you leaving him of your own free will had never really even crossed his mind. He had been sure you’d been captured by the autobots, that you hadn’t just left him, but now his faith in that was wavering. He needed to know the truth, and he needed to hear it from you.

Megatron was on earth. That certainly explained the uneasy sense of dread you’d been feeling, but when you heard Ratchet say the words, it didn’t make you feel better. If anything, you felt even worse. You had never wanted to see him again, but now he was here. You were on the same planet as him again, and you didn’t know what to do or how to feel. You would have to face him eventually, probably in the field of battle, and you didn’t know if you could handle it. You didn’t give him an explanation, you just left during one mission and never went back. You would never go back. The autobots, even during war, had shown you a world of empathy, kindness and true friendship. They were your family. Something you never really had with the decepticons.

Even though you wanted to, you didn’t hate him. Somewhere deep inside, you might’ve still even loved him, but you had pushed those feelings aside long ago. When the time came, you would be willing to pay for your sins with your life if that’s what was needed. If it would save others, you would give your life to save your allies from the one you once called the love of your life. If someone had to die by his hand, you’d rather it be you than anyone else.

It took weeks, but when Megatron finally got word that you had appeared at an energon mine with a couple of autobots, he rushed there, not wasting a second. When he finally saw you on the battlefield, you looked the same as you did the day he lost you. The two of you looked at each other, and for just a second, it was like there was no one else there. For a moment, it was just the two of you, and for a moment Megatron was convinced things could be like they had once been. Then it happened, you turned your blaster towards him and the look in your optics was one he’d never seen before.

You hesitated, just for a split second, but that was enough for him to dodge your shot. You could see his expression change as you fired. He looked like he couldn’t believe what you’d done. That you would turn your weapon against him. Then it came, that look of rage and that the burning hatred you’d seen him aim at so many others. There was a time you’d been sure he’d never look at you like that, but here you were. You were aiming to kill the one you used to love more than anything, and you almost couldn’t bear it.

Megatron couldn’t believe that it had come to this. The one he had loved and still loved was attempting to kill him. He had given you everything, and you were trying to take his life. This must have been the work of the autobots. There was no other option, you would never try to hurt him of your own free will. He looked around frantically with a crazed look in his optics and pinpointed the Prime in the middle of the battle.

You could see Megatron looking at Optimus and you knew what he was thinking. You moved before you could even really think. Megatron was so laser focused on Optimus, that you managed to tackle him and make him fall off the cliff behind him. You fell with him.

Megatron didn’t even realize what he’d done before his back hit the ground. The fall wasn’t long, so it didn’t really affect him, but when he noticed he had wrapped his arms around you in a protective manner to shield you from the fall, he didn’t know what to think. The anger that had just been burning in his chest was gone, and all he could think about was having you in his arms again.

“Let me go” you said quietly as he kept holding onto you, while laying on the ground on his back.

He couldn’t help but ask. He had to know, he had to hear it from you.

“What happened to you?” Megatron asked, still holding you so you couldn’t get away. Your arms were pinned to your sides, and you were laying on his chest, facing him.

You couldn’t look at him. You were afraid that if you did, you would throw away everything you had built with the autobots just because he looked at you lovingly again. You were afraid you would give in and go back to him. You didn’t want that. You would never be treated like that again. You wouldn’t be treated like an object, or a trophy he could parade around.

“Let me go” you repeated, forcing the words out of your mouth.

Megatron hesitated for a moment, but he decided to let you go. He wanted an explanation, but no matter what it was, he was going to take you with him.

You got some distance between him and yourself, but you still didn’t look at him. Not in the optics anyway. He looked the same he had the day you left, but there was a different, more destructive air about him.

“What happened to you?” he repeated.

You weren’t going to answer, and you didn’t owe him an explanation, but you still opened your mouth, but before you could say anything, a nearby explosion interrupted you.

“Come on (Name), we have to go!” Arcee yelled from on top of the cliff.

You looked up at Arcee and then glanced at Megatron, who took a step towards you. You could guess what he was thinking. He surely wanted to take you with him, but you couldn’t allow that to happen. You swiftly started climbing back to the top of the cliff.

Megatron took another step forward, but froze as he noticed a few of the autobots standing on top of the cliff, pointing their blasters at him. He considered his options for a moment, and no matter how much he wanted to drag you back to the Nemesis with him, it wasn’t worth a potentially serious injury. All he could do was watch as you climbed up and got to the top of the cliff. You were going to slip away again. You were going to be taken away from him again.

You were about to leave, but you finally gave into the desire to look back at Megatron. This time you met his gaze, and you could feel yourself growing confused as soon as you met his optics. You weren’t sure what to make of his expression. For a second, just a second, you thought you could see the old him. The one before the war started, the one you’d fallen in love with so long ago, but that thought faded as his optics grew colder and his expression hardened. Now all you could see was that same jealousy and possessiveness you’d seen before you left him. He looked at you like a possession, something he owned, something that he thought had been stolen from him and something that he would tear through anything to get back. That thought terrified you.

He would get you back, and he would do anything to make that happen. He would rip apart the autobots to get to you and make sure you could never be taken from him again. You were his, and he would get you back and never let you go again.

#transformers #tfp #transformers prime #decepticons #megatron #tfp scenarios #transformers angst #reader insert #tfp x reader #transformers x reader

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portagas-chan · 6 months

Text

Yours Forever and Ever : Part 2

Yandere Katakuri x Isekai Reader

Things to note: Angst, Manipulative Behavior - where Katakuri gaslights [Y/n] and guilt-trips her.

Part 3: https://www.tumblr.com/portagas-chan/750092733174169600/yours-forever-and-ever-part-3

Much to her surprise, Katakuri has been very nice to her. His behavior towards her was like a slap to her face when she compared it to the possible worst-case scenarios she had of him. It's not like she was complaining though.

"Are you bored?"

Katakuri's voice snapped her out of her daze. She was sitting on the edge of his bed and was daydreaming. Katakuri sat on what seemed like his working desk, writing something. It probably has something to do with the wedding preparations.

"Kind of?" [Y/n] tilted her head.

Katakuri looked at her before dropping his quill pen and walking towards her. The bed shifted a little when he sat beside her.

"I've been wanting to ask you something," Katakuri started. [Y/n] stared at him silently, waiting for him to continue. "How do you feel about this whole thing?"

"Which one? Being kidnapped and held as a hostage or my friend's wedding with your sister?"

"Everything," Katakuri answered.

"Sure, this whole thing was unexpected but I'm not bothered at all," She shrugged.

"And why is that?"

"Well, when you have someone like Luffy as your captain, crazy things always happen which is normal. Plus, I have faith in Luffy. I know we will always find a way out of difficult situations," Katakuri noticed how her lips curled up into a soft smile, how her eyes looked innocent and overall, a gentle expression she has on her face.

Katakuri was jealous of Luffy. He didn't like how she was so devoted to Luffy. How much she trusted him and her loyalty towards him. What does that damn straw hat has that he doesn't? What should he do to make her act the same towards him? He didn't know but one thing for sure, no matter what, he would never let go of her.

Katakuri hesitated to ask but did it anyway, "Does that mean... you will leave me?"

[Y/n] paused not knowing what to say. Katakuri had been sweet to her. He was kind and she felt grateful towards him but staying here forever? She couldn't see that happening. She didn't mind visiting him occasionally but being stuck in a place forever? Joining a crew as worse as the Big Mom pirates? Yeah, no.

Katakuri was such a sweetheart and a good friend of hers. He'd probably be happy if she accepted his offer to join his crew but that was only him and maybe Brulee too but the others? She'd probably spend the rest of her life being bullied by them whenever Katakuri wasn't around.

"[Y/n]?" Katakuri called her. She looked at him in the eyes and sighed, "Katakuri, you're a very nice person and I'm thankful for that. I honestly don't know what would have happened to me if your siblings were the ones I'd be held hostage by."

Katakuri smiled under his scarf, "It's not a problem at all."

"But I don't think I can abandon my crew for something like that," [Y/n] didn't dare to look at him in the eyes. She knew Katakuri would be upset.

"Am I not important to you?" His voice was cold and there was a hint of sadness behind it.

"You are!" She quickly denied him. "It's just.. you know, I don't know how to explain it but I will come by and visit you often," She tried to reassure him but it didn't help. Katakuri was still gloomy.

[Y/n] was met with silence. Katakuri didn't even look at her. He just stared into space not saying anything which worried her. She placed her hand on his and squeezed it lightly, "Katakuri? I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? I wish we met under different circumstances."

"I don't want that," Katakuri mumbled but [Y/n] couldn't make out what he said.

"Come again?"

Katakuri slowly took off his scarf, dropping it on the floor. He finally faced [Y/n] but this time his whole face was exposed, allowing her to see his expression.

When she saw her face, it shocked her. His mouth turned downwards, frowning. His eyebrows knitted together and his eyes reflected desperation, frustration, and sadness. [Y/n] had never seen Katakuri like this. The only time she had seen him with this kind of expression was when he was younger and Brulee got hurt.

"I don't want that, [Y/n]!" He hugged her. "Please don't leave me."

[Y/n] didn't know what to say. Why was Katakuri acting like this? She couldn't think of any other reason but one. He liked her but why? They haven't known each other for long. Was it love at first sight? No, that was absurd and out of character for him.

[Y/n] remembered something and wanted to make sure what she thought was right. She pushed Katakuri away and looked at him.

"Why did you take off your scarf?"

Katakuri was taken aback by her sudden question.

"You never took it off so I assume that it's your biggest insecurity," She continued. "So, why?"

Katakuri sighed, "Because I trusted you. I had a feeling you wouldn't judge me." Well, he wasn't wrong but he literally killed people if they saw him like this even if it was unintentional, and yet here he was, taking it off and showing his weakness to her willingly.

So, she was right. Katakuri liked her but what about her? She didn't know how to feel about this. She knew about Katakuri but never got to know him personally.

"Or am I wrong? Do you hate me now because I look like this?" Katakuri said which made her stare at him in disbelief. "What? No! Are you kidding me?"

Katakuri smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear, "Then, I don't see the problem here."

[Y/n] avoided his eyes and sighed, "No, you are not getting it, Katakuri. I can't just abandon my crew. I have friends out there and I can't leave them like-"

Katakuri cut her off with a groan, "It's always about your crew. What about me? Do you not care about me? Then all those words you said were just words that meant nothing. You're lying to me, [Y/n]."

"No, Katakuri, that's not what I meant," But she was cut off by the knocks from a servant.

"Katakuri-sama? Mama would like to see you," He said before leaving.

"It's okay, you can stop pretending to care. It hurts more if you act like you care. I would prefer if you didn't and just be honest with me," Katakuri said as he got up from the bed and put on his scarf.

He started to walk away but [Y/n] immediately followed him.

"Wait, no! You've got it all wrong!" She grabbed his arm to stop him but Katakuri shook it off. With his strength, [Y/n] fell onto the ground and yelped in pain.

Katakuri looked at her and for a moment, he felt bad for hurting her. It wasn't his intention to hurt her and never will he hurt her. He walked back to her and crouched down.

He took her wrists in his hand and destroyed those cuffs. [Y/n] closed her eyes waiting for the explosion but it never came. She opened her eyes and was met with Katakuri's cold ones.

"It was just a fake to scare you off."

[Y/n] looked at her now free hands and looked back at Katakuri.

"You're free now. You can run back to your crew that you love so much and leave me behind," Katakuri said making her feel a pang of guilt.

[Y/n] didn't move an inch. She stayed in the same position.

"What's stopping you, [Y/n]? I don't matter to you and nothing is holding you back so what's stopping you?" Katakuri repeated before standing up and turning around to leave.

"Katakuri! There's been a misunderstanding. Please, hear me out!" [Y/n] pleaded but Katakuri ignored her pleas slamming the door in her face.

"Katakuri..." [Y/n] whispered sadly.

[Y/n] felt guilty. Had she gone too far with rejecting him? But it was all too sudden for her and she didn't know what to do. She didn't know Katakuri was feeling like that.

She felt like crap. She felt like a horrible person. She didn't want to leave her crew. She had stayed with them for a long time and grew fond of them but she didn't want to leave Katakuri too. Especially, now that she knows he felt hurt and betrayed by her.

[Y/n] didn't know what was the right decision to make.

Should she stay?

#one piece #yandere one piece #yandere katakuri #yandere x reader #charlotte katakuri x reader #op katakuri #katakuri one piece #katakuri x reader #charlotte katakuri

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bunny584 · 5 months

Text

For I Have Sinned ୨୧ Chapter III

“Abstain from sinful desires, which wage war against your soul.” 1 Peter 2:11

Priest Geto has unfaltering faith in his hands. They have traversed deadly straits. Blossomed gardens. Taken and given life.

Can he trust his hands to mold you for another man?

Pairing: Geto x Female reader

Art credit: Grartss on tumblr/insta

A/N: someone needs to peel me away from I wanna Be Yours x Artic Monkeys and the third scene. That song fits TOO perfectly to my ears. I hope this chapter edges you just as much as it did me.

Previous | Next

CHAPTER III: Courtside

Duchess,

Allow me to apologize. It was inappropriate to end our session so abruptly.

You have been on my mind. It will serve your marriage best for you and the Duke Ahriman to pursue individual counseling prior to pre-marital counseling.

I cannot guide you to love one another, your hearts will make that determination. But I can help unravel your layers; to allow for independent growth. Having a strong sense of self, above all, is paramount for successful matrimony.

Think on this proposal. If you both accept, we will proceed.

Warmly,

Suguru Geto

Suguru Geto.

His name tastes just as rich as it reads.

Elegant.

Too ethereal to be bound by ink and manila paper.

A name like that is meant to be said out loud. Shouted from the mountain top. Meant to be worshipped.

Praised.

“Darling? Are you decent?” Ezra calls from the other side of your heavy chamber doors.

You flicker down to your robe. Technically you aren’t. But your continued attempts to avoid your betrothed — conscious or not — remain futile.

Especially, today. Your formal introduction to court. The future Duchess Ahriman. You will be fused to Ezra’s side for hours on end. Grateful to have been bestowed the honor. An honor you will spend your life upholding.

Pro Deo et patria.

For God and Country.

“Yes, I’m decent.” Hoping whatever he needs can be addressed from behind your barrier.

“May I, my love?”

A bitter scoff glides down your throat, but your words seep sweet. “Yes of course!”

Arella, who is diligently arranging your formal attire on the golden rack, fetters over to welcome the Duke.

Instinctively, your hand tightens the silk knot as he steps into view in your mirror. Ezra’s emerald gaze is warmer than the Grecian sun. Excitement buzzing off of his boyish grin and short strides to your vanity.

The Priest’s letter finds its away into your pocket, just as strong hands land on your shoulders.

Ezra didn’t notice. And why would he? The letter isn’t illegal.

“How are you feeling?” Like plush Evergreens withstanding all seasons, Ezra peers into you and roots you in place.

He’s unwavering, your fiancé. He doesn’t yield so easily.

“Are you ready for tonight?”

“Not like I have a choice in the matter.”

Almost instantly you regret the response. The Duke offers you a pained smile and tender kiss on the crown.

A sudden gust of wind brings the bouquet of fresh Dahlias to everyone’s attention. Ezra rubs a soft petal between his fingers.

“These are outstanding, darling. Who brought them to you?”

Before a half truth drips off your tongue, Arella speaks up, taking stride toward where you sit.

“I picked them this morning. From the garden.”

She grazes over your empty, half parted mouth. Planting her own kiss on your warm canvas.

“We should get ready for the ball, yes little Dove?”

Ezra’s good natured laugh overflows. He raises both palms in feigned retreat.

“I suppose that is my queue. I’ll take my leave.” Your handsome fiance keeps his word. Shutting the heavy doors behind him.

“Arella!” Your head whips around to face your beautiful handmaiden.

She is swanlike. Coordinating the intimate pieces of your gown. Not another word on her lips but a whole diary on her face.

“Why did you lie for me?” Your hands steady her busy ones.

Arella’s voice is small enough to fit through the cracks in the walls.

“My allegiance is to you and only you, little Dove.”

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

“Under His Eye, Father.”

“Under His Eye, Rhea.”

“Blessed Be The Fruit, Father.”

Of course. The greeting used when women are trying for child, the handmaiden chose to use with him. Suguru offers a polite, but pointedly distant smile.

Since his arrival to the compound, there hasn’t been a shortage of high court handmaids and the women they tend to ‘greeting’ him in a similar way.

Well within the unspoken rules of engagement, but a message served loud and clear.

“May The Lord Open, Seren.” Suguru returns the pleasantry as scripted.

The pretty maiden smiles like a Cheshire kitten. Taking her position in line behind the clergymen. Suguru keeps his gaze ahead. Remaining neutral in the midst of hushed giggles and whispered praises.

His index finger wires beneath the formal collar. Tonight is the first of a long line of celebrations he will have to stomach.

A commemoration of a new contract between families. A new marriage of countries. A long awaited treaty as precarious as the peak of Mauna Kea.

And as the appointed Chaplain he is tasked with praying over each event. Handing out blessings to the soon-to-be-wed and those that wish them no harm.

He’s already exhausted.

The processional begins and all extraneous chatter settles to the ground. Just in time for you and the Duke to step into view. At the height of the sprawling staircase, there you stand.

Regal.

Breathtaking.

Not a single strand out of place. The rigid corset digs into the small of your waist — accenting the feminine swell of your hips. Sage satin drips off the rolls and hills of your mind-altering lines.

Curve and dip.

Your figure could render the most veteran fishermen seasick.

Then your eyes collide with his and Suguru nearly falls backward. Knocking more air out of his lungs than any sea storm ever has. Ten times more deadly than the waves he rode along Drake’s Passage.

The infamous strait holds legend amongst seamen, old and new. The lethal dance between the South Atlantic, Pacific and Southern oceans gives way to the notorious Ship’s Graveyard.

At 60 degrees south of the Equator, Suguru’s father tweaked his usual saying before he dove off their vessel.

“Below 40, there are no laws. Below 50, there is no God. Don’t go trying to find One, Son.”

Suguru strips his eyes away from you. Currently plunging well below 60 degrees south, he will drown in you if he keeps gawking up like that.

Focus, Suguru.

Lines from tonight’s production begin circulating in the Chaplain’s mind. Every moment rehearsed down to the breath. The night is already stifling. And he still has to look you in the eye and bid you a lifetime of love and prosperity with Ezra Ahriman.

He’ll have to repent for the lie tomorrow.

Patent leather dress shoes echo a path into the ballroom. Suguru and the rest of the priesthood fall behind the last line of noblemen. His stomach suddenly plummets lower than its usual residence.

Public speaking isn’t the issue.

A room full of eyes trained on his every word has never shaken his nerves.

The problem is the air around him suddenly deciding to shed its layers.

Leaving one, thin strip of sustenance left for Suguru to breathe in. While he rehearses the lies he has to spew in front of a congregation.

Half of which is so forbidden. Basking in the thrill of lusting after a “Man of God” bound by law — biblical and not — to remain pure in the face of temptation. It’s thrilling for that half of the congregation.

Then there’s the other half.

Seeing him for the foreigner that he is.

The other. A man with eyes more inclement than the worst of Heaven’s rainfall. Who bares tattoos of a past life. Acting as if that part of himself is so far lost at sea.

That half of the congregation is counting the seconds until Suguru can be properly burned at the stake. Words he reads directly from the Bible sound like lies to their ears.

Which half of the congregation do you reside in?

“Father, I have a hard copy of your speech if you want it.” Noel whispers, just a few paces away from entering the ballroom.

And Suguru is so fond of the boy. The little brother he never got to grow up with.

“I think I have a handle on it, Noel. Thank you.” The Chaplain flashes a brief smile his way before taking in the last gust of oxygen. Praying that it gets him through the dreaded speech.

Violin notes reverberate in sync with Suguru’s footsteps toward the podium. You are somewhere behind him. Probably 20 paces or so. Polite about your wave. Genuine about your smile. Convincing the masses that you are one of them.

The decades your home country spent in war with them mean nothing.

Welcome home, Duchess.

Suguru’s deft fingers wrap around the microphone.

“Welcome in.” He starts. It takes nothing for the room to come to an obedient silence. Listening intently. Taking in every word.

“Please, may the congregation rise? To give and receive blessings this evening.” Suguru prompts the room, a gentle up-flick of his wrist, raising all to their feet.

“I’d happily kneel, Father.” A muffled comment from the pretty handmaiden that made a point to greet him a few moments earlier.

Normally, Suguru wouldn’t entertain it. But something about this being his first formal engagement strips his usual restraint.

“Such a dedicated servant of the Lord, Seren.”The Chaplain glances over to the blushing crowd of women at his right.

Seren’s outburst crumbles to nothing under his pointed gaze. And a collective chuckle fills the room.

That should be enough to stifle any additional outbursts.

Here he goes.

“To the Duke Ahriman, and the Duchess-To-Be.” Suguru tilts his glass of water up at the noble pews — everyone else holding goblets of red wine.

Beauty and grace lock his eyes into place. Coaxing words out of his parched throat. He couldn’t deny you his voice if he wanted to.

“I pray the Lord brings you unwavering love,” A lie whipped sweeter than cream rolls off his tongue. Suguru’s eyes float from you to the Duke. An eager smile on his face.

But, what is the expression you’re currently wearing, Duchess?

Are you desperate to come up for air, too?

“A never ending fountain of peace.” Suguru continues to bless the ‘happy’ couple. With eyes that can see with inhuman clarity below the level of sea that receives penetrance from Helios.

The Midnight Zone may as well be daybreak to the Chaplain. And those same sharp eyes see something other than joy in your face. Something other than peace.

But he continues his script, nonetheless.

“An unconditional well of prosperity.” Suguru shamelessly sips from your tantalizing presence. If someone whispered to him that you two were the last beings on earth right now, he’d believe it without question.

The finishing lines cause physical pain.

“And most importantly, to an Ahriman heir.” Suguru chokes out. “For God and Country.”

The room erupts in near uncontrollable cheer.

“For God and Country!”

“For God and Country.”

You mirror the Preist’s words and he memorizes every twitch in your lips. Every intonation of your voice is burned into the most permanent part of his mind.

Festivities flicker past Suguru’s short term memory. The night is a complete daze. Hundreds of courteous smiles. Dozens of handshakes. A handful of empathic stares and one all-consuming gaze that halts the Father in his tracks.

How are you allowed to exist when lust is apparently a sin?

The answer to that never comes.

Boisterous music. Drunken celebration. Complete disinhibition comes in full force instead.

Suguru wires around the women flinging themselves into his embrace.

No matter the intention, he wants no part of it. In fact, if he could make it home to steal a few hours of uninterrupted sleep he would consider the night a roaring success. There’s no telling how many seconds, minutes, hours have passed since the start of the celebration.

Not until his eyes find you swallowing more than a mouthful of red wine at the edge of your seat. Avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room as if the clouds are your native home.

“Blessed be the fruit, Duchess.” An inebriated noble nearly trips into your arms.

You narrowly miss his impact. The flame in your campfire gaze ascends high enough to singe the crescent moon.

“May the Lord open.” Each one of your words sharper than swords made of dragonstone.

Suguru starts to make his way over to flailing man, to rip him away from you at the very least.

But you are more skilled than he is in still waters. Beneath your fiancés nose and a host of prying eyes you find an exit to slip past.

The Chaplain’s feet move before a knowing smile tugs on his lips.

Suguru knows exactly where to find the woman who doesn’t want to be found.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Saline seabreeze intertwines with your loose mane. Erupting goosebumps along your exposed décolletage. Expanding the lungs imprisoned by your steel-boned corset.

Breathe.

The moon is curved and high. Super-terrestrial hands knead the low tide crashing along the cliffside.

To what end?

Your mind searches for a finish line to the marathon. Desperately seeking refuge from the journey with no endpoint. Traveling further than Pheidippides, who ran hundreds of miles from the battlefield to the citadel to deliver news of victory.

All before dropping dead.

A chuckle more bitter than the goblet of wine escapes you.

You would travel further just to be home. Even if it meant instant death in return.

“For God and Country.” Sharp words through terse lips. “For God and Country.”

Thick, unforgiving fog fills your brain space. Heels echo through the chapel garden, pebbling the stone path to the rocky edge. Red wine powers your clumsy stumble. Chasing an ever elusive clarity.

The marathon continues.

“What if…what if I don’t serve your God.” You hiss at the stars above.

Resentment more potent on your tongue than the spirits you ingested tonight. Before rules of conduct blare through your drunken haze, rolls of sage satin fill your balmy fists and you take a seat on the ground. Legs dangling over the edge. Enticing the dangers below.

“For God and — what if I think your God is deaf and dumb and…and—“

“And He loves you all the same, Duchess.”

Oh, that voice.

That voice that smells like honey. And tastes like a dream. And sounds like lilac.

No.

Violet.

Like the eyes of its owner.

“Suguru!! I-I mean Father. Shit. I’m sorry.” Bitter resentment is replaced with sour regret.

Did you really need that last serving of truth elixir?

The Chaplain lets out a deep, velvet chuckle. It runs smooth along the curve of your flushed cheeks. He takes a seat on the ledge. A full hand width or two away and yet, his presence kisses you in the way sun rays do, when they tuck in for the night.

“You must think I’m a petulant woman, Father.” Shockingly sober words, thanks to the company beside you.

Another rich, truffle laugh. You cant help but notice his prominent Adams Apple gliding down the muscular column of his throat.

“My name sounds like a ballad when you say it.” Irises softer than an oil painting cement you in place.

“Please use it.”

Because it is, Father.

His name is a ballad. A sonnet. A monologue in its own right.

A love letter.

“And what of my name, Suguru? When will you use it?”

Sobriety flutters away as quickly as it cloaked you in the first place. Cobalt winds lift the hem of your dress. A sheet of goosebumps along your bare thighs now on display.

From the glacial breeze? The damp earth beneath you?

…Or is it the way the Chaplain’s Adam’s Apple and gaze descends?

“When I’ve earned it, Duchess.”

Long, deft fingers reach over to re-drape the satin over your knees. You swallow a gasp before it erupts.

Of course he fixed your dress. It’s where your hem belongs. Especially around a man who has taken a vow of celibacy.

No, no.

Especially as a woman who is engaged. Spoken for. Under the God he serves and the law you abide by.

“I trust you’ll have enough..” Suguru’s lips curl up at a thought reserved for himself only.

And somehow, the perfectly centered dimple on his appled left cheek comes to your attention for the first time.

“Enough what?” You probe, sinking in the cavern you’ve discovered.

“Conviction.” Volcanic eyes trail up to the moon. “To tell me the exact moment when I’ve earned the privilege.”

Suguru gives you ample space to bathe in him while he bathes in moonlight.

It’s uncanny.

How the Priest exists in two different places at once. Down here, with you on the cliff edge. He’s tangible. Thick locks in a poetic cascade down his back. Limbs nearly twice as long as yours, beckoning creatures that only break the surface of Leviathan’s playground to wreak havoc.

Sure, he’s down here.

But he’s also up there.

Somewhere in the ether. Traversing altitudes well above the average, simple minded being. High enough for the Gods to confess their sins. Because Suguru is the only one worthy enough to forgive them.

“You’re staring, Duchess.” His voice holds a grin, and that grin has fingers.

Cruel, torturous fingers that pet and stroke and tease your throbbing core until it’s plush. Your cunt is more intoxicated than you are.

“Eyesight is not a sin, Father.” You retort, crossing your legs before any more arousal leaks from your warm sex. Your gall entirely fueled by Arella’s quote imbedded in your mind.

“Suguru.” The Priest corrects. His sleek, jet black brow elevates. You must be an amusing drunk.

“Suguru.” You acquiesce with a bashful nod.

“So demanding.”

He gifts you his left dimple once more. A feature that is rapidly soaring through your mind’s construct. Undoubtedly the only boyish thing about the stallion of a man next to you.

Straight from Poseidon’s steed.

“Very.” He agrees. “Only when the time calls for it.”

And what time would that be?

“The Dahlias I sent, did you enjoy them?” Suguru deftly redirects the conversation like a captain navigating treacherous waters. As if he heard the blasphemous thoughts starting to brew.

“They are gorgeous.”

Stifling heat emanates from your cheeks. You were so fond of the bouquet that you felt compelled to lie to your betrothed about the source.

“Good.” His eyes capture a moon ray and holds it hostage.

“And the letter?”

“I loved it!” A slurred confession. “I’ve re-read it more times than I can count on my fingers and toes.”

How does his laugh sprint down your spine the way that it does?

Unraveling you bit, by bit. You would stay drunk and stupid if it meant you could keep drawing that addicting sound out of his full lips.

“I was referencing the proposal in the letter, Duchess.”

Suguru’s eyes drop to your bottom lip, now rolled under your teeth. Not even a second passes before he flickers back out to the sea. And you’re grateful for the privacy to darken like Pinot Noir on a corkscrew. Both hands cup your reddened cheeks.

“Yes, of course.” You wave, a matter-of-fact, of course.

“I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”

That response draws something new from the enigmatic Priest.

Raven locks lift off his back from the speed at which his gaze recoils back to you. Lightning strikes the volcanoes in his eyes. A clenched fist and tense arm drops between his legs.

Is he…steadying himself?

You can’t quite name his expression. Wine or not, you’ve never seen anything like it.

It’s dark. Ominous. Full of bloodlust.

And you’d gladly offer up a vein.

“Pardon?” He rasps, completely fixated on your lips. As to not miss a single word of your answer.

Your hips roll around under his unrelenting stare. “I-I mean, you know best. I will do whatever you think is best for my marriage.”

Suguru barely hears your repeated answer, judging by the way he briefly makes eye contact, before re-settling on your mouth. Heat swells in your puffy cunt. Already hugging your thin, sodden undergarment.

The Priest offers no words.

Just a heady, quiet that pins you to the ground. And your mind, suddenly promiscuous, wonders if this is what it feels like to be beneath a man’s weight. Caged in by muscular arms. Scalded by fiery eyes tracing inch by inch.

Not that you would know.

Not that you know anything about making love. Or men. Or loving a man.

“Will you…can you teach me how to love a man?” The tips of your ears threaten to melt off your head the second your sentence is complete.

Another shocking blow to the Father. His lips hang open in disbelief. For one, two, three seconds before he zips back up. Concealing his thoughts behind a courteous but very present steel barrier.

“I—“ He starts carefully, averting away. “Surely you don’t need to be taught—“

“But I’m pure, Father.” You counter. Searing into his angular profile. “I’ve never…I don’t know how to—“

Cool fingers gently tilt your chin upward. To brand his correction into your memory.

“Suguru.” The Chaplain’s voice glides lower than your inhibition.

Something says that he won’t correct you a third time.

Despite the temperature maintaining the same degree, a sharp jolt of pleasure straightens your spine as your nipples pebble against the silky fabric. You gnaw your cheeks to keep from physically squirming.

“S—Suguru.” You repeat. Subservience wets your drooling sex in a way that makes you want to keep following commands.

Suguru’s tone rubs the folds in your brain smooth.

“Good. Quick learner.” A pleased grin blooms across his lips. “I’ll start with focusing on you.”

The two of you slowly peel away from one another. Crashing waves replace the heady silence.

Well, silence other than your heartbeat rattling between your ears. In your periphery, the Chaplain is now peering outward, at his true home. The coast is clear to return your greedy eyes back to his acute, feline features.

Just enough of his mane is tied back to reveal a pretty mulberry dusting his high cheekbones and pointed nose.

A pleasant surprise to know the demigod warms like the mortals he walks amongst.

“You’re blushing, Suguru.” Girlish satisfaction heavy on your tongue.

Another decadent chuckle pets your womanhood. And this time you have to swallow a moan.

“As are you, Duchess.”

“Darling? There you are!” Ezra’s voice is just as, if not more sobering than his footsteps approaching.

Too soon.

Time bows at Suguru’s feet. The concept doesn’t exist around him. Someone, be it Arella or Noel or now, your soon-to-be husband, someone always has to physically draw you back to the present.

Reality never comes on time. Always too late. Or in your case, always a little too early.

The Chaplain is on his feet in seconds. He swiftly lifts you from the edge and sets you on solid ground. Leaving you dizzied and breathless on the surface.

Guilty and red-handed beneath it.

“Oh sweetheart,” Ezra paws at the soiled fabric, concern etched into his face. “Your dress is completely ruined.”

“I’ll live.” You’re sharper than intended. Surely, from the spirits still thrumming through your veins.

Ezra falters like a wounded puppy. And it tugs on your tattered heartstrings.

“Thank you for the concern, Ezra.” You soften, thumbing his cheek. Purposefully avoiding the violet beams aimed at your face. And shoulders. And hands.

As if the Priest is daring you to keep provoking his searing gaze.

But your fiancé unravels under your rare display of affection. He eagerly leans over to kiss your forehead. Meanwhile your hand desperately magnets to your side.

“Sorry for leaving so abruptly Ezra, I—I had a bit too much to drink and I needed air then—“

“Don’t give it a second thought, my love.”

Your fiancé is gentle with you. Little strokes along the small of your back. And maybe…just maybe your reaction time is dulled because you don’t immediately flinch away.

“Individual counseling starting early then?” Ezra jests. Pristine jade eyes dance between you and Suguru.

The Priest offers a smile about as warm as the Siberian tundra.

“Hardly. Just ensuring the Duchess is out of harm’s way.”

Like your fiancé did with you, you flower under the pad of Suguru’s thumb. A brief swipe, to remove a stray saltwater droplet. But your skin scorches all the same. Unreasonably missing a touch that lasted all of half a moment.

Ezra clears his throat and drops his broad, but not nearly as broad, shoulders.

“I received the memo from your office staff, Father. Please accept this as my formal agreement to proceed with individual counseling.” He reaches out and Suguru takes his hand firmly.

“Duchess,” Suguru beckons without breaking focus on Ezra.

“We will be begin your sessions in three days. Meet me around 8:00 AM in our garden. Yes?”

Our garden.

You are a dirty woman.

The way your core aches at his meaningless, frivolous, harmless words.

“Y-yes. I will be there.” A half-baked attempt at maintaining neutrality.

Your agreement earns you Suguru’s left dimple again. You toss your gaze elsewhere before your knees commit treason.

“Duke, is there an activity you enjoy?” Suguru probes Ezra.

“Sailing.”

“Sailing…?” Suguru lifts an incredulous brow. Blatantly amused by his automatic response.

Granted, you don’t know your future husband that well, but he’s never made mention of any maritime activities.

Meanwhile everyone in this country, two countries over, possibly your home country knows that water belongs to the Chaplain. The element bends to his will.

“Are you certain about that, Duke Ahriman?”

“Yes, Father. We have quite the fleet. I think you would be impressed.”

“Understood. You and I will set sail before Sunrise the day after tomorrow.”

The men exchange pleasantries as they do. Ezra intertwines his loving fingers into your reluctant ones. He ushers the long night to a welcome end.

Five steps into your path home, a blistering heat snakes up your spine. Fanning your shoulders like high noon during summer solstice.

You don’t have to do it.

You know the source, already.

But you do it anyway.

Over your left shoulder, you find the Naval Prince strolling along the unstable rocky ledge with as much grace as he does flat terrain. Eyeing the tide. Searching for the perfect entry home.

Suguru’s trident reflects stark against the moonlight. Upper body completely shed of clothing, lower body with a long, black compression garment. Heavy locks now woven in the same singular braid you met him with. Dark overhead skies somehow illuminating the ridges and shadows of his sculpted arms, and back…and chest.

A glimpse of heaven.

…is staring right back at you.

Possessing you.

“Enjoy your swim!”

The words string together without your consent. Ezra lands his attention on you, startled by the sudden crack in silence.

And the demigod shakes his head. One part disbelief, two parts fond.

“Enjoy your dreams!” Suguru calls back before turning his trident to you. His night has just begun.

You walk away with your betrothed, cloaked in soiled satin and guilt.

Were you in the wrong? Maybe so.

But your heart didn’t choose Ezra. Not yet. You aren’t sure if your heart has even chosen you.

Arella’s gentle wave from the patio welcomes you home. Sleep suddenly descending on your heavy lids.

At least you’re safe, here in your mind’s haven.

For now.

· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

“Fuck.”

A tormented hand swipes the bead of moisture tickling a path down Suguru’s temple.

0345

Obscenities seem to spill from his lips a little too easily these days. And his usual coping mechanisms are falling a little too short.

The chaplain drags the hem of his sleepwear down to his thighs.

Each bone, muscle and tendon is utterly spent after tonight’s swim. Every part of his body except the thick rod that springs free from its cage.

Glistening with beads of lust. Taunting him. Making a mockery of his code of conduct.

Thou Shall Not Covet Thy Neighbor’s Wife.

“Really?” Suguru scoffs and screws his eyes shut. His nails dig into the abused sheets to keep from gripping his cock and tugging himself numb.

How convenient.

The Holy Book of Answers and all of its rules makes no mention of how to survive the likes of you.

How does one circumvent murky waters when Thy Neighbor’s Wife is Aphrodite’s reincarnate?

Suguru’s heavy, oversized length pulsates. Its blushing head lays flush with his abdomen, a few inches past his belly button. Leaking pearly arousal onto his damp skin. Still not fully air-dried from the second icy bath since returning to his quarters.

‘I’ll do whatever you ask of me.’

You dangled your submission in front of him.

Him, a red-blooded man.

A ravenous, touch starved, cunt-drunk beast of man. And you sat there. With your dizzying silhouette. And puffy lips. And pert nipples, pebbling from his gaze alone.

Did you think he couldn’t see?

How you pressed your mouth-watering thighs together? With wide, gorgeous eyes. Desperately trying to deny yourself the indulgence.

What if he asked you to spread your legs then and there, pretty girl?

What if he asked you to watch his fingers pet that weeping little cunt of yours? Watch how much honey he could coax out of your needy opening.

Because you were.

So fucking needy.

Suguru could see it from a mile away much less sitting next to you. Tensed legs. Short gasps. Studying his features when you thought his attention lapsed.

‘Can you teach me how to love a man?’

“Oh, sweet girl,” Suguru rolls over to settle a plush pillow between his thighs. The cool, soft cotton rubs blinding friction against his aching length.

This is wrong.

Immoral.

He’s a filthy, disgusting, pervert.

Suguru lurches his hips forward in a deep thrust against the cushion. A shattered groan pushes past his clenched jaw.

It’s a disgrace, the way saliva pooled in his mouth and cum drooled from his cock when you unveiled your purity.

Suguru’s hips rut faster. Brutalizing the pillow. Animalistic sounds bubble out of him.

“Fuck…fuck no..don’t..” Pathetic pleas contradict the pace he humps the fabric. Chasing the whirlpool of lust in his groin.

Demons in hell couldn’t concoct the vile things his mind is showing him. The intricate ways he wants to violate you.

A moral stain for the church

The priest tilts up on his knees. Fucking the pillow in earnest. Picturing its your precious, dewy center that he’s defiling.

He could teach you, gorgeous.

He could shape your untouched core to fit his cock like a sleeve. Perfectly molded to his veins. Slotting into your warm, wet, noble sheath with ease.

He would have you sit on his lap for your first lesson.

His swollen length buried inside you to the hilt. He wouldn’t thrust, not yet. Your body would just clench and squeeze and leak around his intrusion. Suguru wouldn’t retreat out of your cunt until you were begging him to. Teary eyed and drooling from every single opening.

He could teach you. Break you. Turn you into a pretty little cockdumb puppet at his touch.

“God..nngh fuck.” Opaque fog fills his head and lungs.

Sordid moans echo against the walls. Reflecting his sinful behavior, but Suguru is too intoxicated to care. He curls around his swollen cockhead. Feverishly jerking his abused sex. Grinding so pitifully into his hand.

Suguru drops his head. Mumbling your name in full before spewing himself empty into his grasp, the sheets, his pillow.

Shame warmer than the mess of cum he’s currently laying descends. Filling the fuzzy corners of his brain.

Is he really so weak?

“Be stronger than this.” The priest hisses angrily.

Unable to lay in filth for another second, Suguru rockets out of bed. Pulling his sheets, folding his sins away. To be cleansed in the next load of laundry.

A third, icy shower serves the same purpose for him a few minutes later. Glacial droplets soak the length of his mane, again. His manhood hangs away from his body, bucking every couple moments. Threatening to steal his virtue for a second time.

He’ll be a better man when the sun rises.

A tired sigh escapes his lips. At least Suguru is safe, here in his mind’s haven.

For now.

E/N: Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Chaplain, you really have to get a handle on those pesky hands of yours. 🤭

Taglist: @blkkizzat @hayakawalove @rotteneyess

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prentissluvr · 2 months

Text

sorry won't cut it (rewrite) — sam and dean winchester

cw : gn!winchester!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, barely different from the original but slightly adjusted to fix some canon details i got wrong and adjust to my changed perspective of the whole purgatory situation, sam and dean did reader wrong, swearing, arguments, crying, nicknames (kid, kiddo, honey, sweetheart), 4.1K words.

summary : since dean disappeared, sam has been distant. when he calls you and you find out dean's back, you also find out that both of your older brother's have been lying to you.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

it’s been several months since he’s invited you over, and he doesn’t really talk about her anymore. you figure something must have happened, but you never push anything anymore with him.

he sighs deep, “just… get here as soon as you can. i’ll send you the location.” then he hangs up and it feels like the hunting life all over again.

⟢

that’s what you’d been doing this past year. missing dean, and painfully. so when you knock on the door, calling out, “it’s me, sammy,” you freeze when it opens several beats later.

because the person behind the door isn’t sam. but it is your older brother. just the one who’s been who knows where and presumed dead, for the last year or so. the one you’ve endlessly searched for to no avail.

“dean?” your voice is small as his name slips from your mouth.

his eyes go soft, the way they rarely get, and the slight smile on his lips is half pained, half pure relief to see you after so long. “hey, kid.”

you launch yourself into his arms, and he catches you easily, right there in the doorway, and you have to fend off tears that you know wouldn’t put up so much of a fight if you weren’t so exhausted. but you were raised tough, and winchesters don’t cry all that often, at least not where someone else can see. so you swallow hard and tough it out, letting dean pull away from you and lead you inside. he moves through the house with a sort of ease he’d only have if he felt comfortable and safe there. this raises questions, along with the fact that he's here at all.

you’re speechless, but not for a lack of anything to say. endless questions stream through your mind, each one pushing to be asked, even more desperate to be answered.

but the only thing you can figure out how to say is “hi” to sam when he greets you in the living room. he pulls you into a hug, letting you linger for a moment before you know you have to ask all of the hard questions. something in his face is unreadable to you, which is rare when it comes to your brothers. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was a hint of guilt. that rings alarms in your mind, but you brush your nerves aside when dean takes a seat on the couch.

opening your mouth and forcing words out is like a crack in a dam. everything comes out slow at first, but that lasts mere seconds before the flood.

“where… dean, where were you? i mean, i tried– i tried everything, i looked everywhere,” your voice breaks at that word, the weight of it meaning something only you understand. you look at him, brows taught and you’re confused by the surprise on his face, as if he didn’t expect you to say such a thing.

“what do you mean, you tried everything?” he asks, voice suddenly gruff and severe. you recoil from his side to get a better look at him. you don’t miss the look he shoots sam. this is already departing from what you expected, which is probably exactly what you should have expected, given your brothers. it’s just that, when dean hugged you back and he was solid and real and alive, when he sat on the couch instead of a chair so you could sit next to him, you thought that maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to stay tucked safe into his side as they told you what happened, as they asked you to stay with them.

“what do you mean?” you shoot back. “what, did you think i’d just kick back and call it someone else’s problem?”

“sam did what?” the question sounds like it’s targeted for dean, but you’re staring the younger down.

“listen, i– i’ll explain it to you later. what do you mean you did everything, you said you were going to school?” sam looks irked and defeated all at once.

“that is completely beside the point, sam, you lied to me?” you ask, voice tired and bordering on distressed, “but you’re not going to explain to me why? why you lied to me or why you apparently didn’t look for dean, i mean what– what’s up with that?” dean’s hand on your shoulder prevents you from standing as your voice grows strained.

“well, i’m glad to hear that you two have hashed it out, but i haven’t yet, so we can discuss whatever that is later.” you shrug off dean’s hand, trying to focus on the things you’re already angry about instead of asking the even bigger question nagging at you now. when the hell did dean get back that those two had time to hash out something that major? you turn your anger back to sam, thinking about what it was like when dean first disappeared. “you told me you looked. you told me you did all that you could, that you tried everything in your power. now dean’s telling me that you did nothing?”

sam sighs heavily. “yes. okay, listen, i’m sorry i lied to you. but i just wanted you to try and live your life for once. i figured if i told you i did everything i could, that, i don’t know, maybe you’d give up and try to move on? go to school, do something you love, have real friends, maybe find someone?” he throws his hands up in the air, a defeated gesture because he knows you don’t agree, while he still thinks he did the right thing.

but you pick up again after a moment of thick, dripping silence. “you know, sam, you have absolutely no idea how this past year really was for me. i’m not saying it was easy for you, because i know it wasn’t. though now i know you also skipped the trouble of looking for dean and really, actually lived that hunting-free life you wanted. and–” you pause a moment, purposefully not looking at dean. “and it’s not– not bad that you got that, sam, all i’m saying is that just about nothing has been all, i don’t know, rainbows and butterflies more like you think,” your voice takes a scathing edge, a tone so rare to both of your brothers that neither knows what to say, “and you know what, sam? it’s looking to me like i’d be a lot better off if you’d just decided to tell me the goddamn truth.”

“figure it out,” you repeat under your breath, sticking your tongue against the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something too harsh. “sam, things were going well! they were!” now you’re feeling desperate to make him understand, “but that night you told me there was nothing else we could do, nothing else to try and that i should just do my best to move on? i couldn’t, sam, i couldn’t do that. there had to be something more we could do, so i gave up on the things you said you did and i went further. i let you think i was fine, that i was doing what you wanted for me because you always sounded so tired. you always sounded like one more thing on your plate would make the sweet little life you built come crashing down, so i made sure you wouldn’t have to worry about me.”

dean’s does his best to make his interruption gentle, though he’s not the best at hiding his frustrations sometimes. he doesn’t want to upset you more, but you can hear the tension in his voice when he asks, “kiddo? what do you mean by you ‘went further?’”

suddenly you shrink in on yourself, your lower lip caught between your teeth and your eyes shining with fresh tears. “dean–,” your voice breaks before you can even say anything else. his hand is on your back, meant to be comforting, but it only makes you feel worse about it all. you know how much dean would hate the lengths you went to to try and get him back. “i can’t–” you shake your head, ignoring your oldest brother, “i can’t right now, but maybe… maybe if you’d told me the truth, sam, if i’d just started by reading through all of bobby’s books like you said you did, things would have worked out differently.”

“well, maybe if you told me you were going to keep trying, i could have helped you!” sam fires back.

a stunned silence falls over you brothers, sam’s guilt beginning to overrun his natural response of anger, and dean making up for that fading anger with his own. your chest heaves with laboured breath as you stare sam down.

dean’s tone is icy as he breaks the silence, “sam, is that really how you treated them while i was gone?”

sam exhales hard, ignoring dean in favor of looking at you, “i was just doing what i thought was the best for both of us. i didn’t know, okay, i’m sorry. i really am.” he looks sorry, and sad, like this is the opposite of what he wanted. under your anger, you know it’s true that he never wanted this. you know that sam thinks people are better off distant from him. but it hurts that he let you be one of those people.

“are you kidding me?” you exclaim, voice turning shrill as your composure slips further and further. “people got hurt, on my account,” you have to force that part out through gritted teeth, “i got kicked out of school, and i spent three months running from hunters!” both sam and dean want to interrupt at that. but you keep going, your voice quieter now, harsh and trembling, “but you were doing what you thought was best for both of us? try what was best for you. dean was gone, and i needed you, sammy, i needed you and the second you said you needed to get away, alone, i knew i didn’t have you.”

it’s dean who cuts into the heavy silence again. “sam.” his name hangs in the air, weighed down with unspoken words. we’ll talk about this later, you guess is the message. you can feel how angry dean is without even looking at him. you know all he ever asked of sam if he was gone was to take care of you, and now dean knows he didn’t. he tried, the way he thought was right, but he didn’t. then his attention is back on you. he says your name, clear and careful. “i’m gonna need you to tell me what you did.”

his hesitancy to answer tells you everything. “kid, listen, that’s not imp–”

“don’t you dare say it’s not important! did you hear anything i just said, dean? anything about how shit my life has been since you’ve been gone, how lonely i’ve been?”

“you’re right,” sam relents, forging on before dean can stop him, “he’s been back for three months now. it’s my fault we didn’t tell you. it’s all my fault, and believe me, i am so sorry.” you collapse into a chair with your head in your hands as he continues, “i know that does nothing to fix things, but i am sorry, and i swear i’m gonna spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you, kiddo. i’m all in now, and i did it all so this wouldn’t have to be your life, but you’re here now and we want more than anything to have you around, okay?”

you’ve beat him too. “sweetheart,” he sighs, “i’m sorry. we were wrong to do that to you, okay? i– i was in purgatory. i can explain the rest later.”

“i missed you, too, sweetheart. so much. i’m sorry.” he takes it as a good sign that you let him place his hand on your knee. you want to flick it away, maybe shove him away too.

“and i was so, so lonely. i was so scared,” you cry out, wishing you didn’t have to cry when you got angry. “and i’m so mad that you two did this to me. three months…”

“i know, kiddo, i know. i’m sorry.” gently, slowly, he tugs you towards him and into his arms and you slide onto the floor and cry into his chest, shaking and unable to say a thing. you want to tell him this doesn’t make it right, but dean hushes you gently when you try. “shhh, it’s okay. i’m here now,” he comforts. it’s true that this doesn’t make it right, but it’s almost all you need in that moment.

“sammy,” you choke out, still so angry with him, but wanting him near anyways, knowing that he’s too scared to come close to you after coming face to face with all of the ways you were hurt. his hand is on your back a moment later, hesitant at first, then strong and soothing moments later when you blindly grab for the fabric of his flannel to keep him close.

“okay. okay, i’m here. i’m sorry. i’ve got you, i promise,” he whispers, silently letting a few of his own guilty tears fall.

utterly exhausted, you stay slumped on the floor in dean's arms when your tears dry up. you can barely keep your eyes open and your breathing is soft and slow.

“let’s get you to bed,” dean whispers, hoisting you all the way up as he stands. “sam’ll grab you a glass of water.” you sigh an imperceptible sigh because you know that dean is still pissed at sam. rightfully so, you’re more than just pissed at both of them, but you’re too tired to care in this moment, and the last thing you want is for them to be angry at each other. that’s your job for when you wake up hours from now.

dean leads you to a foreign room and foreign bed, and you sink down onto the edge of it. sam is back moments later with the promised glass of water and tissues for your face. you cave to your exhaustion, climbing all the way into the bed. you curl up and tug at the covers slightly, eager to fall asleep.

“see you in the morning,” you mumble, effectively dismissing them with your voice hoarse from crying. you close your eyes before either of them can say a thing, not wanting to look them or your remaining problems and anger in the face.but your words are also a whisper of the beginning of forgiveness.

“goodnight, kiddo,” dean says, his voice full of a familiar affection that he only uses for his little siblings as he presses a kiss to your hairline. he lingers at the doorway before

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