#music gumbo

[everoutoftouch]

If anyone ever listens to music I post or recommend I am begging people to listen to The Vincent Black Shadow specifically these two albums for the love of god

[musictyme]

Yung Nudy ft 21 Savage - Peaches and Eggplants

[reckonslepoisson]

GUMBO’!, Pink Siifu (2021)

Pink Siifu doesn’t work in conventional songs, exactly – things with hooks, structures, that sort of thing – but in moods, in sweeping studies of society communicated through sound. As such, his music prompts very pure, instinctive responses. If his 2020 album N**** attempted to evoke pain, fear and violence, GUMBO’! prompts sort of the opposite: joyful, triumphant, carefree.

Pick: ‘Wayans Bros’

[ailurinae]

oh! Jimmy Buffett has a song about him

[jazzdailyblog]

Nicholas Payton: Redefining the Boundaries of Jazz

Introduction: Nicholas Payton, a virtuoso trumpeter, composer, and bandleader, has firmly established himself as one of the most innovative and controversial voices in contemporary jazz. Known for his exceptional technical prowess and his fierce dedication to evolving the art form, Payton has redefined what it means to be a jazz musician in the modern era. His wide-ranging artistic vision and…

[thelensofyashunews]

YTB Fatt Connects With OT7 Quanny For Cross-Regional Banger "I Did It"

YTB Fatt commands a rabid fanbase in the Southern streets, winning fans with his rapidfire flows and ferocious flexes. For his latest single, the West Memphis, AR rapper recruits a kindred spirit from the East Coast, sharing "I Did It," a new collaboration with the red hot rising rapper out of Philadelphia. Though Fatt and Quanny come from vastly different regional traditions, each rapper has accomplished a huge amount in a short period of time...and neither is surprised by their string of successes. The two rappers demonstrate their differing, yet complementary styles over blown-out 808s and a creeping piano bassline, each one listing their hard-earned accomplishments: Fatt boasts about his loyal block soldiers and the 8 cars to his name, while Quanny speaks on owning the "biggest house on the block" like Friday's Uncle Elroy.

In the video, the two rappers flex on stage and in the studio, piling up more cash than they can hold, as they have one of their patented "100 grand nights." "I Did It" continues YTB Fatt's string of fiery singles, including the Usher-sampling "Same," featuring a YouTube Top 25-trending video with cameo appearances from GloRilla and Big Homiie G, and "Brazi Blue Cheese," an ode to the founder of GUMBO. 

With Moneybagg Yo's Loaf Boyz him and over 140 million streams in the bank, YTB Fatt had a breakout year in 2023, highlighted by his recent mixtape Who Is Fatt. His first full-length project, Who Is Fatt charted on Billboard and Apple Music, reaching #4 on Billboard's Heatseekers Albums and charting as high as #12 on Apple Music's All-Genre Album Chart and at #6 on Apple Music's Hip-Hop Albums Chart. The project is home to his breakout hit "Get Back" (19 million YouTube views), and the Pitchfork-praised "Poppin It Hard," plus guest appearances from Rob49, Big Homiie G and FTO Sett. Fatt followed up Who Is Fatt with the no-holds-barred 10-pack Foxes Only, featuring guest appearances from Lil Yachty, GloRilla, and BabyDrill. Both Who Is Fatt and Foxes Only are available on all platforms via Loaf Boy Ventures / 10K Projects. 

YTB Fatt has been rising steadily in the Dirty South since the beginning of last year. Born and raised in West Memphis, Arkansas, just across the Mississippi from the Tennessee rap hotbed, YTB Fatt caught the attention of an impressed Moneybagg Yo with songs like "Played Out" and "Don't Crash." Moneybagg Yo quickly signed Fatt to his Bread Gang label, collaborating with Fatt on the hit "Shot Off Gumbo" (13 million YouTube views) and connecting Fatt with Lil Durk on "Rock Out"–both of Yo and Fatt's collaborations appeared on the Memphis rapper's Hard To Love album. Since then, Fatt has continued to drop more street hits, and has become an in-demand featured artist, working with artists like Trippie Redd, Rob 49, Icewear Vezzo, and many, many others.

With two successful mixtapes under his belt, Fatt is tirelessly working to reach the top of the rap game. Stay tuned for much more.

[yarterhq]

Pink Siifu ft. Valee | "𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞'!!"

[oh-sunny-sun]

― CollaBo GumBos vol.1 ―

今日の音楽の聴き始めはこのアルバム♪

2024年3月2日 土曜日

― Various Artist - CollaBo Gumbos vol.1 -

I started listening to today's music on this album.

Saturday, March 2, 2024

[theamityelf]

Me when it's cold and I have a bowl of gumbo: 🎵 "This is the life, bo-bo-bo-bo-bo!" 🎵

[soulmusicsongs]

Gumbo Jones - Pacific Gas & Electric Starring Charlie Allen (Pacific Gas & Electric Starring Charlie Allen, 1973)

[solomontigcelot]

FIRST LOOK!! This reminds me of the Mashup Shows that I used to have at places like Caffe, Renaissance/Sadie’s, etc. The @freetown_boomboomroom is the spot where @biglohiphop Big Lo’s “The Baron’s Final Journey” Tour combines with @shemightbeabeast She Might Be a Beast, @nightrevival Night Revival, Loaded Team @porchsquad, and yours truly Moose Harris controlling thing under the @magnoliashedseries Magnolia Shed Series banner!! Too much music in one place for you to miss this! If I can go sell beer at @ragincajunsbsb UL Lafayette Ragin' Cajuns baseball then do the show, you have very little excuse to not be there!!!! #magnoliashed #magnoliashedseries #biglo #nightrevival #shemightbeabeast #gumbo #porchsquad #lafayette #louisiana #music #musicseries #freetown #mooseharris #livehiphop #rock #rockmusic #mashup #baron (at The Freetown Boom Boom Room) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpLNG74OrF2/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[amirasainz]

Ooooh can you please do reader is Lewis daughter and she’s a big daddy’s girl and she has everyone wrapped around her finger, including the stoic Toto?

AHH! I had so much fun writing this. I love the idea of Lewis being a girl dad. I hope y'all enjoy reading this and send me some requests!

-XoXo

Daddy's little love

“Who is your favourite Disney Princess, Baby?” asked Anthony, Lewis’ dad, to his 4-year-old granddaughter. Cassie, who was busy getting her beautiful, long, curly hair done by her grandmother Linda, turned to Anthony with the biggest grin on her face.

“Tiana,” she proudly stated. “TIANA? Why’s that, hm?” he asked her, now sporting the same huge grin as the girl in the living room. “Because she is the prettiest of them all. And her prince is better than the other ones. OH, and their friends are so cool, because Ray is a firefly and his wife is a star. And their other friend, the crocodile, Louis, can play the trumpet. Oh, and Mama Odie makes the best gumbo in the whole wide world,” she answered, running towards Anthony.

The older Hamilton immediately picked her up, sitting little Cassie in front of him on the kitchen counter. “Ohh, is that so, young lady?” he jokingly asked her. “UHU,” she answered with a duh-tone. “Really?” “Uhu.” “Really.” Now the game between Cassie and her Poppy started.

Linda, who knew that this little game of theirs could go on for hours, called towards the young girl. “Cassie, honey, we still need to do your hair.” “But I don’t wanna, Loveyyyyy,” whined the 4-year-old. “Nuhu, don’t even look at me with those puppy eyes of yours,” she told her. However, Cassie tried to find a way out of the situation. “But why can’t Daddy do it for me?” she whined again. “You know why, Baby. Daddy can’t make those braids that you like,” Anthony answered, sensing the beginning of a little tantrum.

Both Anthony and Linda knew that Cassie hated getting her hair done. If the young Hamilton could, she would always have it open. However, with the hot weather and her playing the whole time with her cousins in the garden, everyone knew it was better to braid it back.

Before anyone could say anything else, a figure appeared in the doorway. “What’s that I’m hearing about Daddy?” asked Lewis, who was finally back home after the Mexican GP. He looked tired but happy. “DADDY!” squealed the young girl, immediately running towards her father with outstretched arms. Lewis, who knew his daughter better than himself, picked her up in his arms and held her close, releasing a sigh of relief now that he finally had his baby back in his arms. Her laughter was like music to his ears, and he couldn’t help but smile as she giggled like crazy while he kissed her cheeks repeatedly.

After a moment, he stopped and greeted her with the biggest smile ever. “Hello, my little love,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and affection. He could feel the stress of the race melting away as he held her.

Remembering the conversation he walked into, he carefully petted her hair and told her, “Go on, love. Let Lovey finish your hair, then we can go outside swimming.” Cassie pouted, her lower lip jutting out adorably. “But Daddy—” she began, her eyes wide with pleading. “Nuh-uh, Honey. Don’t even try it with me,” Lewis said, his tone gentle but firm. Cassie released the biggest sigh on earth before stomping towards her grandmother, her tiny feet making exaggerated thuds on the floor.

Thankfully, her older cousin Willow was also now in the living room, so the two cousins could play a game while Linda finished the two Dutch braids. Willow, always the patient one, smiled and pulled out a board game, setting it up on the coffee table. “Come on, Cassie, let’s play while Grandma finishes your hair,” she said, her voice soothing.

Lewis, who was watching the whole situation with an amused smile, turned towards his father and hugged him. “It’s good to have you back, boy,” Anthony whispered in his ear, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s good to be back, Dad,” Lewis answered while releasing the hug. He felt a wave of gratitude for his family, who always supported him no matter what.

After a moment, Lewis’s face turned serious, and he looked at his dad. “Hey, can we talk for a minute?” he asked. Anthony, sensing the gravity of the situation, turned his full attention to his son. With an encouraging nod, Lewis began.

“Dad, you know how important the Brazil Grand Prix is for me, right? This year, I was thinking of taking Cassie with me. This race isn’t just significant for me, but also for Mercedes. Plus, it’s my last year with the team,” he explained, his voice tinged with emotion.

Anthony took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before responding. “Lewis, I understand how crucial this race is for you, but why do you feel the need to take Cassie with you?” he asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Well, Dad, it’s going to be such a meaningful race for me, and I want my favorite person there with me. Besides, the team and the other drivers are always asking about her. And Gloria, you know, Cassie’s babysitter, will also be there. She can watch over her while I’m racing,” Lewis replied, his eyes pleading for understanding.

Anthony paused for a moment, considering his son’s words. “Okay, I think that’s a really sweet idea. And we both know how much Cassie loves traveling with her daddy,” he said with a warm smile.

“Thanks, Dad. I guess I just needed to hear from someone that my idea isn’t completely insane,” Lewis said, relief washing over his face.

“No, don’t worry about it. Now go tell the little princess the good news,” Anthony encouraged, giving his son a reassuring pat on the back.

After an uneventful flight and a good nights rest, the little trio entered the paddock the next morning. Cassie clutched her father’s hand tightly as they walked into the bustling paddock. The young girl, with her curly hair bouncing in the warm breeze, wore a bright purple cap that read "Daddy's little Champion". It was a sea of activity, with mechanics, engineers, and media personnel buzzing around. This was Cassie’s first time attending a race outside of Silverstone, and her wide eyes took in every detail with a mix of awe and excitement.

Lewis,, was a seasoned pro in this environment, but today he felt a bit different. He was not just a world-class driver; he was an overprotective dad. He kept a close eye on Cassie, making sure she stayed close and safe amidst the chaos. The media quickly noticed the duo, and cameras started flashing, capturing the tender moments between father and daughter.

Lewis’s smile was tight as he waved politely to the cameras, but inside, he was less than thrilled about the attention. He had always been protective of Cassie, and the thought of her being in the spotlight made him uneasy. He bent down to her level, his voice gentle but firm. “Stay close to me, okay, Cassie? There’s a lot going on here.”

Cassie nodded, her curly hair bouncing with the movement. “Okay, Daddy.”

Beside them, Gloria, the babysitter, walked with a calm demeanor. At around 50 years old, she had a reassuring presence that both Lewis and Cassie appreciated. Gloria had been with the family for a while and knew how to keep Cassie entertained and safe. She smiled at Cassie, holding out a small toy car. “Look, Cassie, it’s just like Daddy’s car!”

Cassie’s face lit up as she took the toy, momentarily distracted from the overwhelming environment. Lewis gave Gloria a grateful nod. “Thanks, Gloria. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Gloria chuckled softly. “Just doing my job, Lewis. You focus on the race; I’ll keep an eye on our little racer here.”

As they made their way through the paddock, more media attention followed. Lewis did his best to shield Cassie from the cameras, but it was clear that their presence was a big deal. He sighed inwardly, wishing for a bit more privacy for his daughter. But seeing Cassie’s excitement and knowing Gloria was there to help made it all worthwhile.

“Alright, Cassie,” Lewis said, lifting her up so she could see over the crowd. “Let’s go find a good spot to watch the race. It’s going to be an exciting day.”

Cassie giggled, her nervousness melting away as she felt the familiar comfort of her father’s arms. With Gloria by their side, they were ready to face the day, media attention and all.

As they walked to the Garage, Cassie's wide eyes took in the sight of the famous cars, the hustle of the crew and the vibrant colours of the team uniforms. Other drivers like Lando, Charles, George and Daniel, couldn't help but stop and admire the adorable little girl.

"Hey there, little champ!" Lando said, waving at her. "Are you going to cheer for your dad today?"

Cassie giggled and nodded. "He's the fastes!" she declared proudly, causing the drivers to melt at her sweetness. They all exchanged smiles, and for a moment, the competitive spirit of Formula 1 seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the warmth of Cassie's innocent joy.

As Lewis, Cassie and Gloria approached the Mercedes garage, Lewis introduced Cassie to his team principal. Toto, the usually angry Austrian, was particularly taken with her. "Well, if it isn't the youngest member of our team!" he said, picking her up and placing her on his lap. "How would you like to be the team principal for the day?"

Cassie's eyes widened in amazement. "Really? I can be in charge?" she squealed, bouncing slightly in excitement. Lewis, who was busy talking to Bono, turned towards his daughter and reminded her again : "Cassie, inside voice, ok?" "Sorry Daddy" she apologised cutely, warming Lewis heart at the sight of her.

Toto brought her attention back to their conversation. “Absolutely! You can help make all the important decisions,” Toto replied, grinning. He handed her a small headset, and Cassie put it on, feeling like a true boss.

“Okay, Cassie,” Toto continued, “let’s make sure the drivers are ready. We need to keep an eye on them!”

Cassie nodded seriously, trying her best to mimic the serious expressions of the adults around her. As she sat on Toto’s lap, she observed the team preparing for the race, her little fingers tapping away on the radio as if she were giving commands.

“Driver 44, are you ready?” she said into the headset, mimicking what she had heard the engineers say. The team chuckled at her adorable seriousness, and Lewis turned to give her a thumbs-up from across the garage.

As the pre-race festivities continued, Cassie found herself surrounded by the other drivers, who were all charmed by her presence. Daniel knelt down in front of her. “So, what’s your strategy for today?” he asked playfully.

“I think Daddy should go really fast and win!” she replied, her face lighting up with confidence. The drivers laughed, and Daniel gave her a mock salute. “A solid plan, Commander Cassie!”

Soon, it was time for the drivers to head to the grid. Toto carefully lifted Cassie off his lap and placed her back on the ground. “Are you ready to watch your dad race?” he asked her.

“Yay! Go, Daddy!” she cheered, waving her arms enthusiastically. Lewis leaned down to give her a kiss on the forehead before heading out to the grid. "I love you, my little love" he called back to her. "I love you more" she yelled. Turning towards his daughter, he said : "Impossible" before continuing his way. Their interaction gained laugher throughout the garage.

As the race began, Cassie was glued to the edge of her seat in the team hospitality area, her small hands gripping the railing as she watched the cars zoom past. With each lap, her excitement grew. “Go, Daddy! You can do it!” she shouted, her voice ringing out amidst the cheers of the crowd.

The race unfolded with thrilling intensity. Lewis battled fiercely against his competitors, maneuvering through tight corners and executing perfect overtakes. Cassie’s eyes were wide with awe as she watched her father, the adrenaline coursing through her tiny body with each lap.

During a particularly tense moment, where Lewis found himself in a tight spot battling for position, Cassie gasped and clutched the railing. “Come on, Daddy! You got this!” she yelled, her voice carrying over the noise of the engines.

Her encouragement seemed to resonate, as Lewis managed to pull off an incredible move, taking the lead. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Cassie jumped up and down, her laughter mingling with the roars of the fans.

“Look, Cassie! Your daddy’s in front!” Gloria said, smiling at her enthusiasm. She was having the time of her life, completely unaware of the high stakes of the race, so focused on her father’s performance.

As the race neared its conclusion, the tension was palpable. Lewis was vying for the victory, and Cassie could feel the excitement in the air. She leaned over the railing, her heart racing as the final laps approached. “You can do it, Daddy! Just go faster!” she shouted, her little fists clenched in determination.

When Lewis crossed the finish line, victorious once again, the roar of the crowd was deafening. Cassie squealed with delight, jumping up and down in sheer joy. “He did it! He won!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

After the race, Lewis hurried to the team area, where Cassie was waiting, her face glowing with pride. He scooped her up in his arms, spinning her around. “Did you see that, Cassie? We did it!” he exclaimed, his heart swelling with happiness.

“You were the best, Daddy! I knew you could win!” she said, her eyes shining with admiration.

As the celebrations continued, Cassie found herself the center of attention. The drivers gathered around her, congratulating Lewis and showering her with affection. “You’re an amazing little team principal, Cassie,” Charles said, ruffling her hair.

Cassie beamed, soaking in all the praise. “I told him to go fast!” she said proudly, and the drivers laughed, each one charmed by her innocence and enthusiasm.

As the sun began to set over Brazil, casting a warm glow over the paddock, Lewis took Cassie aside. “You know, today was special not just because we won, but because I got to share it with you,” he said softly.

“I had the best day, Daddy! Can we come to every race together?” she asked, her eyes wide with hope.

“Of course, sweet pea. Every race, if you want. You’ll always be my lucky charm,” Lewis replied, giving her a warm hug.

The day ended with fireworks illuminating the sky, and Cassie watched in awe, her heart full. She had stepped into a world of speed and excitement, and in doing so, had forged an unforgettable bond with her father. As they headed back to their hotel, Cassie rested her head on Lewis’s shoulder, dreaming of race tracks and fast cars, knowing that this was just the beginning of their adventures tog

[teresalace]

🐸 Prince Naveen x Female Reader (NSFW) 🚩 (smut)

💃Happy marital life after the wedding~

▪︎Words: 2110

▪︎Warnings: Teasing, Cunninglingus, Naveen going down on reader on the dinnertable.

😭💕 Wrote this two weeks ago, I'm getting more comfortable with smut writing. Hope y'all enjoy! This is my second instalment of the 'Disney x reader' series 😁 first was Prince Philip. Please enjoy!

~~~~

Cooking is a part of your love language, anything to do with taking good care of your loved ones never tires you out.

Firmly handling a long wooden spoon, you swirled through a bubbling pot of gumbo, nice and slow in the thick stew. The rich meaty mixed vegetables flavor filled the entire kitchen, every breath you'd take in would be a delicious meal as you hummed a jazz tune to yourself. 

Even from afar, there was a lovely shine on your slightly sweaty skin casted down from the golden crystal lights fixed to the ceiling. Popping your hips out to every few beats of the boiling pot you continuously stirred. Oh, you couldn't wait to eat right after your husband comes back from his music band, dinner always tasted better with a loved one. 

.   .   .

Click. 

Right on time, you heard the soft thud of the front door knob opening and a faint scuffle of shoes being taken off. At that familiar sound, a happy tingly feeling rose from your stomach, not just because you were starting to feel a little peckish but you were looking forward to seeing someone...

A pair of muffled footsteps led towards the kitchen and gave you a lovely surprise.

Hearing a low melodic whistle from behind, you instantly smile and throw back a glance over your shoulder. "Oh you're absolutely glowing, my evangeline. Glowing!" Naveen said enthusiastically, leaning his side against the doorway, his sparkling teeth and wide smile never failing to lift the tiredness within you from a good day's work, his princely presence alone cheering your spirits.

Your lips spread into a loving warm smile as a chuckle rose out of you. "Why thank you, Naveen, you're looking more handsome than usual." And goodness gracious he really was, wearing sleek long pants with that favourite white polo shirt of his, the sleeved clumsily rolled up at the elbows and revealing his firm arms crossed over each other. Emphasizing the muscles there, like he was barely containing himself from springing his arms around you. 

"Of course, of course. It is both a burden and a treat to be as unbelievably handsome as I am~" He eagerly ran a hand through his luscious hair and kept it behind his head, posing unashamedly for your eyes. Never failing to reel chuckles and laughter out of you, anytime and any day.

“Uh huh, right. It must be so hard for you, baby.”

He nodded in an exaggerating fashion. "It IS very hard to have a beautiful person such as yourself by my side…” His eyes shut as he loudly breathed in the air, pausing dramatically. “Mmmmm, it smells delicious… Absolutely divine." His eyes reopened and stayed on you like a target, hardly sparing a glance to your side where the stew you cooked was. "Why don't we get comfortable and…” 

“-And miss out on dinner? Naveen, we best keep our stomachs full before anything else.” You lightly said, a scolding tone as you shook your head for good measure at his teasing expression. 

Putting down the wooden spoon on a plate, you heard a deep, almost mischievous chuckle. 

"Oh, I know a way to get full…" 

As if he couldn't wait any longer, Naveen gleefully leapt and wrapped his strong arms around you, lifting you off your feet with little effort as you yelped being brought out of the kitchen, his grip slightly crushing your breasts and you grumbled when your toes barely grazed the ground. 

Like a floating water lily unable to move as easily against rippling water, you felt like you were floating as he carried you onto the dining table. 

"Naveen–" Before any protest could come out of your mouth, his lips mashed into yours and sent your body an explosion of tingles to course through.

Not wanting to fall, you had your hands propped behind you on the table surface and continued the harmonic kiss as his warm firm hands fondled the fleshiness of your thighs for his own pleasure. Inching higher and higher towards your hips, massaging gently as his hands dipped underneath the elastics of your underwear and tugged downwards.

Any and all protest disappeared from your mind when a breeze flowed by as your underwear was gone, and you heard a slip of fabric followed by an undone belt falling to the floor. 

"I've been looking forward to this meal, princess." His mouth latched to the sensitive nub, with little pressure at first while his fingers rubbed and probed around your vulva in lazy circles to get you worked up. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer for better pleasure.

And it was working.

Round and round your labia, working up a slow rhythm that build up a delicious heat in your tightening core, but his chuckles added a cherry on top vibration onto that

It didn't take long with the help of his fingertips, like the skilled musician that he is, played you like a fiddle to spur on your release, your tensed thighs relaxing around his head, an audible sigh of relief letting out from you.

Wow…

"So, how was it, (Name)?" 

A slightly sweatier Naveen smirked sweetly up at you, breathing a little heavier, his long tongue running over his glistening wet lips in a smug fashion as if he was savoring your taste and to get a reaction out of you.  

You wheezed out an answer with a dazed smile, weakly rolling your eyes at his display, trying to glance down to his handsome face in a pearly sheen from the sweat. 

"Very… Very satisfied." 

That would be enough for a long while until the next time you'll make love with him.

"Then I'm about to do it again," his happy response was swift like his readied tongue when he dove back down in between your thighs, to your dripping entrance, continuing his expert strokes and rapid flicks on your vulva. 

Hardly appearing to be exhausted though you were sure his jaw would've been sore and aching now as his flicking tongue twisted and turned in so many different angles you never knew was possible, worked another explosive orgasm out of you. 

 Your curling toes, calves tensed as he never stopped his tired tongue from lapping up your juices. 

"Ah. I-I already came," half-mewls kept slipping from your lips. "You can rest," you breathed hard and heavy and called out to the head deep in-between your thighs, your fingers interlaced with his dark locks of hair tugging a little to get his attention. "Naveen!"

"I'll stop once you've begged for more~" Now that isn’t fair, that logic of his never helps you at all and he knows that! What a greedy prince.

"Please, don't give me more," you gasped at his sped up tonguing, like adding firewood to a burning furnace. He kept firing you up.

"Naveen! I won't kiss you today if you don't take a break," you grumbled a warning, sweating like rain, meaning every word you said.

Hearing you, he paused, cool puffs of breath closely fanning over your slit and making you twitch but giving you a chance to take in a proper deep breath. 

"Fine by me, princess�� I'll just kiss your other lips, they look more lonely." The pounding in your chest intensified as your hands clenched onto the table edge, mentally you weren't prepared for his determination in peppering you in ravenous affection.

His tongue resumed drawing all over your intimates, specially licking up any essence of your obvious arousal glistening under the chandelier lights like a pearl.

"From my glorious time being a frog, I have learned to never underestimate what nature can teach you." He added before lowering his entire face down, your hips involuntarily jolting at feeling the sudden pleasures multiplying the second his lips began to kiss your very clit, no doubt swollen from his previous workings.

Almost making you feel jealous of your own…. Self. 

Then came his tongue. Oh gosh, his tongue! 

It penetrated your stickiness, lava hot, made you squirm involuntarily on the edge of the dinner table. Twisting and turning inside of you skillfully, inch by inch, scissoring you while his fingers prodded around your labia teasingly like he didn't know what to do.

Pleasurable torture is the only way you could describe it as you breathed in through gritted teeth, eyes barely focusing on the chandelier above, your shaky hand pulling onto a tuff of his hair gently.

Every time you even tried to move away from his tongue, his other hand slipped around your waist and secured you in place while his silken tongue kept dancing along your inner walls, his soft lips brushing against your lower ones.

He was french kissing you in another way, gosh. And you were so weak to him.

Finally, your whole body froze and shuddered as you climaxed, locking Naveen's face against your slick for a few seconds until your limbs slackened. 

A quiet gasp for air came from below you before a small burst of laughter came.

Both of you needed a moment to breathe deeply, your face flushed in a light sheen of sweat, which was laughable in comparison to Naveen's overly pleased smirk as he rose to his feet, his chest equally as heaving as yours. 

Another comfortable moment passed by.

I… really appreciated it. You didn't have to do this so soon, Naveen…" You caressed his cheek, your thumb gently rubbing his cheekbone, watching the warm dark skin turn shades darker beneath... And your wetness shining around his mouth.

He smiled in full satisfaction and leaned into your touch, his blushing never gets old, you knew he really was a sucker for compliments especially from you. "But I really enjoyed it, thank you, honey."

"Oh believe me, it was my pleasure, darling." Yeah you believed him, a certain hard poke at your thigh from below his waistband reminded you that it's going to be your turn to satisfy him.

"Well, It's about time I give you a reward," you smiled wide teasingly, slowly unbuttoning your shirt underneath the apron, his eyes sparkled, you could almost hear his anticipating excitement, following every inch of exposed skin before your apron blocked him. "But first, dinner. I made some good o' gumbo, and we should eat it while it's piping hot." You said smoothly, pushing yourself off the table and stabilizing on wobbly legs.

Naveen laughed out hard and rubbed his belly, joking. "I think I've already eaten plenty—" Oh the gull on this man.

"—Oh no you don't, fun comes later, I will not let you be with an empty stomach no matter how 'full' you say you are. Now come on, honey." You gently cut him off with reddened cheeks, shaking your head in disapproval at him. "There will be no skipping dinner while I'm here, not on my watch." 

He jokingly rolled his eyes when you placed a hand on his hard chest and lightly pushed him for you so you'd be able to get unstuck between him and the dinning table. 

Smiling, he let you push him to the side as you sauntered into the kitchen, him naturally following you to provide some help in bringing out the plates and utensils to the table. Teamwork always sped things up.

Using two hand towels to grab the hot handles of the still boiling pot, you heaved it onto a pre-prepared thick cloth on the dining table. Naveen already set up the soup bowls for both you and him, large plates and tall glasses for water. All that's left was to bring out the fluffy rice and dinner would be served at last.

Out of nowhere, your husband nervously blurted out as you were about to sit down. "I love you, my princess, I adore you." His glimmering eyes seemed to stare straight into your soul and captured your love all over again.

You paused mid-way and smiled lovingly, "I'd say the same in a heartbeat if I wasn't starving, but I do too. I love you, Naveen." 

And just like that, both you and him leaned in over the dining table and kissed briefly... Which turns into one long smooch, leading to three then the loud rumbling of his stomach interrupted the moment right on cue. He sheepishly grinned, "guess I'd better eat before loving."

"My stomach agrees," you giggled, the powerful smell of the gumbo stew making your mouth salivate, and you weren't the only one, looking at Naveen eyeing the soup across from you. 

Dinner that evening was a lovely overflow of laughter, praises, conversations and much later a lot of fun loving. 

[noraantilles]

Breaking Point

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader, Sam Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: A secret monster fight club pulls you, Sam, and Dean into the dark underworld of New Orleans. When your name is called to fight, survival means stepping into the ring — but the real battle might be against the ones you trust most.

Warnings: violence (hand-to-hand combat, graphic fight scenes), blood and injury descriptions, emotional manipulation, themes of guilt and self-doubt, harsh language, angst with a touch of hurt/comfort, brief mentions of trauma (implied, not detailed), intense emotional conflict, reader has increased healing

Word count: 4.8k

New Orleans wasn’t the kind of city where you expected peace. It thrived on its chaos— the music, the people, the dark corners that felt like they hadn’t seen daylight in decades. But even in this city of whispers and shadows, what the djinn described felt… wrong.

It started the usual way. A bar on the edge of the French Quarter, where the air smelled like spilled beer and gumbo. The djinn, Kael, found you in the middle of a quiet drink, tumbling through the doorway of the bar. His appearance didn’t scream “monster.” No glowing tattoos or deadly aura. Just a guy in a worn hoodie, his hands tucked in his pockets like he was ready to bolt.

“You’re hunters, right?” he asked, his voice rough, like he hadn’t used it in days. His eyes flicked from Sam to Dean to you, sizing you up. “I need your help.”

Dean didn’t even look up from his whiskey. “Yeah, no. We’re good.”

Kael sighed, stepping closer. “You don’t even know what I’m asking yet.”

“And we don’t care,” Dean shot back, his tone sharp. “Djinn don’t exactly have a great track record when it comes to asking for help. Usually, you’re too busy stuffing people into nightmares.”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Kael said quickly, holding up his hands. “This isn’t about feeding or whatever you think we do. This is… different.”

“Different how?” you asked, crossing your arms.

Kael hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the door. “There’s a fight club,” he began, his voice dropping. “For monsters. Underground, secret, brutal. They’re not just fighting each other anymore. Humans are starting to show up - hunters. And not willingly.”

Dean’s jaw tightened, and he finally looked up. “What do you mean, ‘not willingly’?”

“They’re being taken,” Kael said simply. “Dragged into the ring as trophies. They don’t stand a chance.”

“And you care… why?” Sam asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

Kael’s shoulders stiffened, and his jaw clenched. “Because they’re taking my kind too. Not all of us want to be killers. Not all of us want… this.” His voice cracked, and for a moment, you thought you saw something raw in his expression. “I tried to stop it on my own, but I can’t. I’m not strong enough.”

Dean snorted. “And you think we’re just gonna trust you? That you’re some kind of saint? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“It’s not about trust,” Kael snapped, his voice rising. “It’s about survival. They’ll come for you too, eventually. Hunters are the biggest prize. You want to wait for that, or do something about it now?”

Your table went quiet. Sam leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed, deep in thought. Dean’s eyes narrowed, his fingers drumming against the table.

“This could be a trap,” Dean muttered, his voice low. “For all we know, he’s setting us up to be the next act in this freak show.”

“Maybe,” Sam admitted, his gaze fixed on Kael. “But if he’s telling the truth… we can’t just ignore it.”

Dean scoffed, pushing his glass away. “You realize how insane this sounds, right? An underground fight club for monsters? What’s next, monster karaoke?”

You couldn’t help but smirk at that, but the tension in the room was palpable. “Dean,” you said, your voice steady, “if there’s even a chance he’s telling the truth, we have to check it out. People’s lives are on the line.”

Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fine,” he muttered, glaring at Kael. “But the second you so much as blink wrong, you’re dead. Got it?”

Kael nodded, his expression grim. “Got it.”

Sam stood, grabbing his jacket. “So where do we start?”

Kael gestured toward the door. “I’ll take you there.”

As you followed Kael out into the humid New Orleans night, the tension between the three of you lingered. Sam and Dean exchanged wary glances, their hands hovering near their weapons. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was going to be one of those cases that left scars — physical or otherwise.

The warehouse loomed like a forgotten relic, tucked between crumbling brick walls and the darkened riverbanks of New Orleans. The air smelled of mildew and oil, and faint vibrations of bass-heavy music thudded through the ground. Kael led the way, silent but tense, his shoulders rigid as though bracing for a fight before it had even begun.

The bouncer at the door was a demon, massive and his eyes blackened when the four of you approached. His arms were crossed over his chest, muscles bulging beneath his black T-shirt, and he had an expression that said he wasn’t here to negotiate.

Kael approached him with careful confidence, pulling a small coin from his pocket. It glinted faintly in the dim light. “Morrick,” Kael said, his voice steady. “Let us in.”

The demon raised an eyebrow, eyeing Kael like he was a bug he might enjoy squashing. “What’s this?” Morrick rumbled, his voice deep enough to rattle your chest.

“Payment,” Kael said shortly. “And a promise that we’re not here to cause trouble.”

Morrick’s gaze shifted to the three of you, lingering a little too long on Dean, who stared back with that signature Winchester mix of defiance and irritation. “Hunters,” Morrick said, his lip curling into a sneer. “Interesting company you’re keeping these days, Kael.”

“They’re with me,” Kael said quickly. “And if anyone asks, they’re… participants.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, not happening.”

Morrick gave a low chuckle, stepping aside as the door creaked open. “Good luck,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “You’re going to need it.”

The warehouse opened into a massive, dimly lit chamber. Neon lights flickered, casting an eerie glow over the crowd. Monsters of all kinds filled the space—vampires with sharp grins, werewolves with twitching ears, ghouls hunched in shadowed corners. The air was electric, buzzing with adrenaline and bloodlust.

At the center of it all was the cage—a brutal structure of rusted metal and electrified fencing. The pit was stained dark, and the crowd roared as two figures inside clashed violently, their movements a blur of claws and fangs.

“This is it,” Kael muttered, his voice barely audible over the din. “Welcome to the ring.”

Sam’s expression hardened as he scanned the room, his jaw tight. “This is worse than I thought,” he said.

Dean grimaced, his hand resting instinctively on the knife hidden beneath his jacket. “Yeah. Real cozy.”

“What’s the deal here?” you asked Kael, keeping your voice low. “How does this work?”

Kael sighed, motioning for you to follow as he navigated the crowd. “The fights are arranged by tiers. Winners move up; losers… well, let’s just say they’re not walking out of here. Every monster here is either a fighter or a gambler. They come for the blood and the chaos, but mostly for the money.”

“And the humans?” Sam pressed, his voice edged with anger.

“They’re the showstoppers,” Kael admitted, glancing away. “They save them for the big rounds. Hunters are a rare catch. Makes for a good spectacle.”

Dean stopped in his tracks, grabbing Kael by the arm. “You didn’t think to mention this before?”

Kael pulled free, his expression guarded. “Would it have changed anything? You’d still be here.”

Dean looked like he was about to deck him, but the sound of a loud buzzer cut through the noise, followed by the announcer’s booming voice.

“Attention, ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer growled, his voice echoing through the cavernous space. “We have a special treat tonight! A fresh contender has entered the ring — an unexpected guest. Give it up for…”

The announcer paused, letting the suspense build.

“[Y/N]!”

Your stomach dropped as the crowd erupted in cheers and jeers, monsters craning their necks to get a look at you. Sam and Dean turned to Kael, their faces a mix of confusion and fury.

“What the hell is this?” Dean hissed, stepping toward Kael.

Kael put his hands up defensively, backing away. “You needed a way in, remember? This is it.”

“Are you kidding me?” Sam snapped. “You used us?”

“I didn’t have a choice!” Kael said quickly, his voice rising. “This is the only way to get close enough to stop it. You wouldn’t have gotten through that door otherwise.”

“You son of a—” Dean lunged, but Kael was faster, slipping back into the crowd before Dean could grab him.

“You’re dead, Kael!” Dean shouted after him, his voice seething with rage.

Sam turned to you, his expression pained. “What do we do?”

You took a deep breath, your hands balling into fists. “We go along with it. For now.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “No way. Absolutely not.”

“It’s not like we have a choice,” you shot back. “They’ve already called my name. If I don’t go in, they’ll kill us all.”

Dean’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. His fists tightened at his sides, the anger radiating off him in waves. “This isn’t over,” he muttered, glaring into the crowd as you stepped toward the ring.

The cage door creaked open, and the crowd’s noise swelled. Your opponent — a hulking werewolf with a cruel grin — waited in the center, claws glinting under the dim lights. The cage door slammed shut behind you with a resounding clang, the sound echoing through the warehouse like a death knell. The crowd surged closer, their roars a frenzied mix of bloodlust and anticipation. The electrified fence hummed faintly, casting a faint blue glow over the ring.

Across from you, your opponent stepped forward. He was easily six and a half feet tall, his muscles straining against the ragged remains of a shirt. His yellow eyes glinted under the dim light, and his grin revealed rows of sharp teeth.

“Well, aren’t you just a snack,” he snarled, his voice low and guttural.

You tightened your fists, planting your feet firmly on the bloodstained ground. “I’m a lot tougher to chew than I look.”

The announcer’s voice boomed overhead. “Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets! Who will take the first win of the night—our reigning champion, Garrick the Wolf, or our newcomer?”

The crowd erupted, jeering and shouting. Dean’s voice cut through the chaos: “You’ve got this, [Y/N]! Stay sharp!”

Sam was quieter, his gaze locked on you with the intensity of someone already calculating the odds.

The werewolf didn’t wait for the bell. He lunged at you with startling speed, his claws slashing through the air. You barely ducked in time, the tips grazing your shoulder. The crowd roared in approval as you rolled away, springing to your feet.

“Fast,” Garrick sneered, circling you like a predator. “But not fast enough.”

He came at you again, this time aiming low. You sidestepped, landing a sharp kick to his ribs. The impact sent him stumbling back, but it didn’t seem to faze him. Garrick grinned, licking his lips like he was enjoying the challenge.

The next hit came hard and fast—a clawed hand slamming into your side. Pain shot through your ribs, and you staggered, barely managing to stay upright. Dean’s voice rang out from the sidelines, sharp and panicked. “Stay on your feet!”

Sam leaned forward, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the cage. “Come on, [Y/N], you can do this!”

The werewolf pressed his advantage, throwing a flurry of punches and swipes. You blocked most of them, but a few slipped through, leaving your arms bruised and stinging. The crowd roared louder with each hit, the bloodlust palpable.

But you weren’t out yet.

As Garrick reared back for another swing, you saw your opening. You ducked low, dodging his claws, and drove your elbow into his stomach. He doubled over with a grunt, and you followed up with a sharp uppercut to his jaw. The force of the blow sent him staggering, blood dripping from his split lip.

The crowd quieted for a moment, stunned by the sudden shift. Dean let out a low whistle. “Hell yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!”

Garrick growled, his yellow eyes blazing with fury. He charged again, but this time, you were ready. You sidestepped his attack, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back. With a swift kick to the back of his knee, you sent him crashing to the ground.

He tried to get up, but you didn’t give him the chance. You drove your fist into his face, then another, and another, until he slumped unconscious beneath you. The crowd erupted in chaos, half cheering, half booing.

The announcer’s voice boomed overhead. “Winner: [Y/N]!”

You stood, breathing heavily, your knuckles throbbing. Blood — his and yours — splattered your clothes, but you barely noticed. Your gaze flicked to Sam and Dean, who were both watching with a mix of shock and pride.

“Holy crap,” Dean muttered, shaking his head. “Where the hell did she learn to fight like that?”

Sam smiled, his relief evident. “You did good,” he said simply, his voice warm with pride.

You gave them a small nod, your lips curling into a faint smile despite the ache in your ribs. The fight was over, but you knew this was just the beginning.

As the cage door creaked open and the crowd shifted its attention to the next match, you stepped out, already preparing for what came next.

The air in the club grew heavier with each match, the metallic tang of blood mingling with sweat and the faint, acrid smell of fear. After your first win, the announcer wasted no time calling you back into the cage. No rest, no reprieve—this place thrived on brutality, and the crowd was hungry for more.

Your second opponent was a vampire, lean and fast, his fangs glinting under the flickering neon lights. He smirked as he entered the cage, running his tongue along his teeth. “You’re dead meat,” he hissed, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

The fight was harder than the first. He was quick — almost too quick — and his punches came in rapid succession, each one a blur. But you held your ground, focusing on your footwork, waiting for an opening. When it finally came, you struck with precision, driving your knee into his chest and landing a series of blows to his face. By the time he hit the floor, the crowd was roaring your name.

Sam and Dean watched from the sidelines, their expressions a mixture of pride and unease.

“She’s wiping the floor with them,” Sam said, shaking his head. “How is she doing this?”

Dean crossed his arms, his eyes never leaving the cage. “I don’t know, but it’s starting to freak me out.”

The fights kept coming, each opponent more dangerous than the last. A hulking shapeshifter. A snarling hellhound. Even a demon who fought with a kind of reckless fury that left the crowd on edge.

Your movements became sharper, more calculated with each match. You dodged blows that should have flattened you, landing punches and kicks with surgical precision. Blood smeared across your knuckles, your clothes, even your face, but you didn’t stop. The adrenaline coursing through your veins drowned out the pain, the exhaustion.

“You see that?” Dean muttered as you took down the demon with a final blow to the head. “That’s not normal.”

Sam nodded, his brow furrowed. “She’s in the zone. But how long can she keep this up?”

Dean didn’t answer. His jaw tightened, and his fingers curled into fists at his sides.

They didn’t let you leave the cage after each fight. Instead, a group of medics — ghouls with steady hands and empty eyes—patched you up as best they could before shoving you back into the ring. Dean paced outside the cage, his frustration mounting with every match.

“This isn’t right,” he said, glancing at Sam. “She’s good, but they’re going to wear her down. It’s not a question of if—it’s when.”

Sam put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, his voice calm but firm. “We’ll figure something out. Just… trust her for now.”

Dean didn’t respond, but his scowl deepened as the announcer’s voice echoed through the club once again.

The fights became a blur, each one blending into the next. Your body moved on autopilot, ducking and striking, blocking and countering. The crowd’s chants grew louder, more frenzied, as you kept winning.

By the time you finished your latest match — a brutish ghoul with fists like sledgehammers — you could feel the wear and tear on your body. Your ribs ached with every breath, and your legs threatened to buckle beneath you. But when the cage door opened, you walked out with your head held high, ignoring the blood dripping from your temple.

Dean met you at the edge of the cage, his eyes scanning your injuries. “You good?” he asked, his voice low.

You nodded, wiping the blood from your face with the back of your hand. “It‘ll heal, soon.”

Dean didn’t look convinced, but he stepped aside as the medics pulled you away.

“You’re unbelievable,” Sam said, his tone somewhere between awe and concern. “But you need to pace yourself. These things… they’re not human. They don’t tire the way we do.”

You gave him a faint smile, the adrenaline still buzzing under your skin. “Good thing I’m not normal, either.”

As you sat on a splintered bench, waiting for your next match, you noticed Kael watching from the shadows. He gave you a small nod, but there was no satisfaction in his expression—only guilt. You didn’t have the energy to glare at him, but you made a mental note to settle the score once this was over.

The announcer’s voice rang out again, pulling you from your thoughts. “And now, the champion of the evening, the one you’ve all been waiting for… [Y/N]!”

The crowd erupted, their cheers echoing through the warehouse like thunder. You pushed yourself to your feet, ignoring the ache in your muscles. You had a faster healing factor than normal humans but this was a challenge even for you. Sam and Dean watched you closely, their expressions unreadable.

“This is it,” you thought to yourself as you stepped back into the cage. “One more fight.”

The cage was eerily quiet after your last fight. The crowd, normally a cacophony of cheers and jeers, seemed to hold its breath. Even the announcer paused for a moment longer than usual before stepping back to his microphone.

“And now, for the final match of the night…” His voice boomed through the warehouse, and the crowd leaned forward in anticipation. “A battle you won’t forget. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s welcome Y/N’s last competitor,

Dean Winchester!”

The roar that followed was deafening. You froze mid-step, your blood running cold as your name was called alongside Dean’s. Turning toward the sidelines, you saw Dean standing there, equally stunned, his face a mask of disbelief.

“What the hell?” Dean growled, shoving past a group of onlookers to approach the cage. “This has to be a mistake.”

“It’s not,” Kael muttered from the shadows. He avoided eye contact, his posture tense. “They want to see a fight. A real fight.”

Dean’s fists clenched. “You think I’m gonna hit her? You think I’m gonna just—”

“Dean,” you interrupted, your voice calm despite the storm brewing inside you. “We don’t have a choice.”

His green eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the chaos of the room faded. “Like hell we don’t,” he spat. “I’m not fighting you. End of story.”

The announcer’s voice cut in again, dripping with amusement. “Come on now, folks, don’t keep us waiting. Let’s see who’s really the best.”

The crowd grew restless as Dean followed you into the cage. He followed reluctantly, every step heavy with tension. Once the door slammed shut behind you, the jeering started again, chants rising for blood.

Dean turned to you, his jaw set. “I’m not doing this.”

“You have to,” you said firmly. “It’s the only way out.”

“No,” he snapped, his voice louder. “I’m not gonna fight you. End of discussion.”

The crowd booed, some even throwing bottles against the electrified fencing. The announcer’s laughter echoed overhead. “Looks like Dean Winchester’s gone soft!”

Dean’s scowl deepened, and his hands curled into fists at his sides, though they stayed by his hips. “Shut up,” he muttered under his breath.

You stepped closer, lowering your voice so only Dean could hear. “Dean, listen to me. They want a show. If we don’t give them one, they’ll kill us. All of us. You, me, Sam—everyone.”

His nostrils flared, and he shook his head, pacing like a caged lion. “There’s gotta be another way.”

“There’s not,” you said, your tone soft but unyielding. “So hit me.”

Dean stopped pacing, his eyes wide with disbelief. “What?”

“Hit me,” you repeated, stepping closer. “Start the fight. Make it look real.”

“I’m not hitting you, for God’s sake!” he shouted, his voice echoing over the noise.

You sighed, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “Fine. Then I’ll hit you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he muttered, but there was doubt in his voice.

You raised your fist, but before you could swing, he grabbed your wrist mid-air. “Don’t.”

The crowd roared again, and the announcer taunted over the microphone. “Come on, Winchester! Show us what you’ve got!”

“You’re not leaving me any choice,” you said, pulling your hand free. “If you won’t fight me, I’ll make you.”

And then, you did it. You said the words you knew would hurt. The words that would cut deeper than any punch.

“Look around, Dean.” Your voice was low, sharp, each word slicing through the noise of the crowd. “All this time, you act like you’re the hero. But now, when it matters most? You can’t even throw a punch.”

Dean shook his head, his expression hardening. “Yeah, real classy of you.”

“You’re no hero, Dean Winchester. Everywhere you go, everything you touch falls apart. And you know it.” You paused, letting the weight of your words sink in. “Ever wonder why Sammy’s still with you?”

Dean froze, his shoulders stiffening. “Don’t.”

“It’s because he feels like he has to,” you continued, your tone colder now. “He’s cleaning up after the mess his failure of a brother keeps making.”

His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing, but he didn’t move. You stepped closer, driving the knife deeper. “You think you’re better than John, don’t you? But deep down, you’re terrified you’re exactly like him.”

“Stop,” Dean warned, his voice trembling with restrained fury.

“You’re a mess, Dean. And the worst part is, you know it. You think Sam looks up to you?” You leaned in, your voice dropping into something almost mocking. “He pities you.”

That was it. The punch came fast and hard, like a freight train you didn’t see coming. It landed squarely, pain exploding in your nose as the world spun. The crowd erupted, their bloodthirsty cheers ringing in your ears.

You stumbled but didn’t fall, spitting blood onto the ground. A dark, jagged laugh bubbled up, cutting through the chaos. “Finally,” you muttered, just loud enough for Dean to hear.

Dean’s face twisted with anger, his eyes blazing. “You want a fight? Fine.”

The punches came hard and fast, each one heavier than the last. You blocked a few, letting him land enough to make it look real. The crowd screamed with excitement, their bloodlust fueling Dean’s rage.

Your ribs ached, your vision blurred, but you didn’t stop. You threw a few half-hearted punches, enough to sell the fight, but not enough to hurt him. You could see it in his eyes — he didn’t want to do this, but the anger you’d provoked in him gave him no choice.

Finally, with one last punch to the side of your jaw, you went down. The world tilted as you hit the floor, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The announcer declared Dean the winner, but you barely heard it over the ringing in your ears.

Dean stormed out of the cage without looking back, his fists still clenched, his shoulders heaving. The medics swarmed you, their cold hands dragging you to your feet. You waved them off, stumbling toward the edge of the cage where Sam was waiting.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice thick with worry.

“It‘ll heal,” you muttered, wincing as you reset your broken nose with a sharp crack. The pain was fleeting, already fading as your body began to heal.

Sam’s eyes followed Dean as he disappeared into the crowd. “He’s not okay.”

You nodded, wiping the blood from your face. “I’ll talk to him.”

And with that, you pushed past the medics and toward Dean’s cabin.

You found Dean in the corner of the dimly lit cabin, sitting on a rickety chair with his head down. His hands were wrapped in bloodstained bandages, fingers twitching slightly, and his right leg bounced up and down in restless rhythm. He didn’t look up as you entered, the tension in the room almost suffocating.

“Dean?” you said softly, taking a tentative step closer.

“Get out,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and low.

You stopped in your tracks, the weight of his words hitting you harder than the punch he’d landed earlier. For the first time, it occurred to you that maybe you’d hurt him more than you intended — not physically, but in ways far harder to heal.

“Please, let me explain,” you said, your voice gentle but firm.

“No.” He finally looked up, his eyes tired and red-rimmed. “You said enough.”

“Whatever I said out there, it’s not what I think about you,” you began, your words rushing to fill the silence.

“Oh yeah?” His voice was louder now, sharp with frustration, his gaze locking onto yours. “Then why the hell did you say it?”

“Because I knew you think those things about yourself,” you replied, stepping closer. He stiffened but didn’t stop you. “I had to find a way to push you, Dean. You’re stubborn as hell, and I knew you wouldn’t fight me unless I made you angry enough.”

You dropped to your knees in front of him, your eyes level with his. His leg stilled, but his fists remained tightly clenched.

“And it was a mean move. I know that. But the person you fought out there wasn’t me,” you said, your voice softening.

Dean’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of confusion breaking through the storm of emotions on his face.

“You fought yourself, Dean,” you continued. “Every punch, every ounce of rage — it wasn’t about me. It was about the things you believe about yourself. And you fought like a damn king because deep down, you don’t want those things to be true.”

His breathing hitched, but he didn’t look away.

“And you’re absolutely right for it,” you said, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. “Because none of it is true. Not one damn word.”

Dean’s eyes glistened, and he blinked rapidly, like he was trying to keep it together.

“I could give you a million reasons why everything I said is false. You’re not John. You never were. You’re Dean Winchester. The man who always puts others first, even when it tears him apart. The most skilled, pie-obsessed, Led Zeppelin-loving hunter I know.” A faint smile touched your lips. “And the best older brother anyone could ever ask for.”

A single tear escaped down his cheek, and he looked away, his jaw trembling. But you didn’t move, holding your ground.

“I’m proud of you, Dean,” you said quietly. “And you should be proud of yourself, too.”

His shoulders slumped, and for a moment, he just sat there, staring at the floor. Then, slowly, he leaned forward, pulling you into a hug so tight it knocked the air from your lungs. You wrapped your arms around him without hesitation, holding him just as tightly.

The two of you stayed like that, silent, the weight of the night slowly lifting.

Finally, you broke the quiet. “And don’t think you have to apologize for hitting me,” you said, your tone light, teasing.

Dean pulled back slightly, a small chuckle escaping him. “Nah, you deserved it.”

You smiled, a genuine warmth spreading through your chest.

Maybe you both had your scars, but in this moment, you knew they’d heal.

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Hi hi I was just wondering if ur taking requests could u do a 97!Remy LeBeau x fem!mutant!reader headcanon list of going on a date in New Orleans 👉🏼👈🏼

I don't think I've ever done a headcannon list before so I'LL TRY.

Remy, ever the charmer, surprises you with an invitation in true Cajun fashion—leaving a handwritten note with a single red rose at your doorstep. The note simply reads, "Dinner à New Orleans, chérie? Pack y'self a lil' dress, we gon' have some fun."

Remy picks you up in a sleek black convertible, the engine purring as music plays softly in the background. He's dressed in a tailored dark suit with a hint of his usual flair—a red silk shirt peeking through. He gives you a once-over, eyes sparkling as he says, "Mon dieu, chérie, y'lookin' like a dream come true."

He takes you on a leisurely walk through the French Quarter before dinner, guiding you by the hand through cobblestone streets. Remy points out little historical tidbits and shares colorful local legends, his arm occasionally brushing yours. He loves showing off his city, and his accent grows thicker the more excited and animated he gets. His pride in his roots is infectious, and you can’t help but feel enamored by his passion.

Remy makes sure you stop for a moment to enjoy the vibrant street performers—a lively jazz band plays under the glow of old-fashioned street lamps. Without warning, he spins you into a playful dance right there on the sidewalk, leading you in a few smooth, flirty moves. He chuckles when you stumble slightly, pulling you closer and whispering, "Just follow m'lead, chère."

He takes you to a hidden gem restaurant known only to locals—tucked away, intimate, and filled with the aromas of Cajun spices. You’re seated in a cozy corner, candles flickering softly on the table. Remy orders in flawless French, his eyes never leaving yours. The conversation flows effortlessly between playful banter and deeper confessions, with Remy listening intently whenever you speak.

Remy insists on ordering a variety of dishes for you to try—gumbo, crawfish étouffée, jambalaya—each one more delicious than the last. He teases you about the spices, but when you handle the heat with ease, he raises an impressed eyebrow. "Didn’t think y’could keep up wit’ a Cajun’s palate, chère. Guess y'full of surprises, huh?"

At one point, Remy uses his powers in a subtle yet impressive display. With a flick of his wrist, he charges a small card, letting it glow softly in the dim light before tossing it away, harmlessly discharging the energy. It’s his way of showing off, but also a reminder that beneath the charm and the smiles, he’s got an edge that’s both thrilling and dangerous.

After dinner, Remy whisks you away to a riverboat cruise along the Mississippi. The boat is old-fashioned, with a big paddlewheel and a lively jazz band playing on the deck. He takes you out onto the balcony where the city lights glitter on the water. As you lean on the railing, he wraps his coat around your shoulders and stands close behind, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs about the sights.

Near the end of the night, Remy takes you to a little antique shop that’s open late. He insists on buying you a small keepsake—a delicate locket with a tiny flower engraved on it. He fastens it around your neck, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary as he gazes into your eyes. "Now y’got a piece of New Orleans wit’ ya, wherever y’go."

He walks you back to your door, the night air still warm and filled with the faint scent of magnolias. Remy leans against the doorframe, smirking as if he’s in no rush to leave. When the moment finally feels right, he steps closer, tilting your chin up gently. His kiss is soft and slow at first, filled with unspoken promises of more nights like this. As you part, he whispers, "Bonne nuit, ma belle. This ain’t gon’ be our last rendezvous."