#my wonderful idiot little brother figure

[dahliakbs]

꒰Tired in the Dark: Batfam x Toddler! Reader,.꒱

Masterlist

Let's say a criminal decided to attack Gotham's main power source at the dead of night, leaving the entire city pitch black and even more eerier than it usually was.

While Bruce is away dealing with the issue he left you in the care of your siblings.

"Where's the toddler, they were here five minutes ago?" Jason asked as they frantically searched your room.

First it was Tim, then it was Damian, now it's you. They weren't even sure how you managed to get out of your room while keeping absolutely no noise whatsoever.

"Oh God, we lost another one" Dick yelled into the darkness of the manor.

"We're dropping like flies?!!" Dick continued his panicking.

"Shut up" Jason yelled.

Meanwhile the three of you were wondering around the pitch black manor, your small frame clutching tightly onto the fabric of Tim's shirt.

You weren't a big fan of the dark, so when you woke up from your little nap to see that your room went from bright and colorful to dark and scary you immediately burst into tears. (How Dick and Jason didn't hear your crying is a wonder)

Your cries were like a mini bat signal, alerting everyone in the area that you'd awoken from your short nap and making them immediately flocking to the area.

And by them I mean Tim and Damian.

So currently you were rested on the hip of your tired older brother while Damian followed quietly behind you.

"I swear these idiots always forget that we have a generator" Tim mumbled to himself but Damian still picked up on it.

"You seem to be one of those idiots as well, seeing as you've only waited till now to actually turn on the generator" Damian scoffed.

"Just shut up and hold them" he passed you over to Damian with little struggle, your body seems to have exhausted all of it's energy crying and screaming out so it seems that your ready to head off into another nap.

Damian noticing your tiredness quickly rested your sleeping figure on his hip and shifted your head into his shoulder.

"You could've just left them in their room to sleep, I would have been their making sure they were safe while the lights are out" Damian stated with slight irritation.

"You think I'm gonna leave my baby sibling in a room with a trained assassin, not happening"

Before Damian could reply the lights quickly flickered on, immediately lighting up the dark space they stood in.

The brightness of the light making you press your face even further into his chest, effectively blocking out all the light.

The little shift bringing his attention down to your already sleeping form.

"Looks like we gotta get them back to their bed" Tim said finally taking in the tired slump that was your little body

"That's what I've been saying this whole time" Damian sneered at him

[chuulyssa]

jealous monster trio + law and ace x reader

a/n. not proofread!! i wrote this on my phone in the middle of watching a movie ong. idk why there aren't many dialogues in ace and law's part, but im lowkey pleased with how everything turned out

tags. fluffy fluff fluff, established relationship

crack tags. sanji gets a nosebleed (again), sanji tries to steal you away, sanji (that's it, that's the warning), marco bepo and robin are the best matchmakers, nami robs someone 😴

luffy wasn't the type to be overly possessive about the things he liked. growing up with two brothers, he had learned to share all mundane things in his life; his clothes, his blanket, even his toothbrush.

but not you.

luffy didn't understand the feeling that was developing in the pit of his stomach at the sight of you working out with zoro in the crow's nest. it was nice to stay healthy, right? that was what he had thought when he saw you reject his offer to play board games with him. he watched you walk away and up to the crow's nest where the swordsman practically lived, and sulkily climbed his special seat on the head of the sunny.

"oi, luffy! come down," usopp called out from the deck, and he glanced at the latter. "robin's telling us another story of the ancient civilizations of the west blue!"

"i'm not in the mood," luffy shouted back, still gazing wistfully at you.

he watched your face contort into one of pain when you moved to do the crunches, and zoro laughed at you before showing you how to breathe in the position as you lifted yourself back up.

"are you sure? i think you're just hungry!" usopp called again. "robin said we can have some of the special pancakes sanji made for her."

luffy stared back at his friend, his eyebrows furrowing as he thought hard. soon after, he yelled back, "i'll come down, give me one second!"

as you got back up from the crunch you were performing, you saw a long arm on the glass wall of the room and nearly screamed. luffy accidentally slammed his face into the wall, his cheeks comically enlarged as he spoke something incoherent to you. zoro rolled his eyes from beside you.

"i think he's saying break time is over. you've gotta go deal with him now."

.

zoro was rather secure in your relationship. he didn't mind it when other people commented about how nice you are, or about how pretty you look. he let it all slide, seeing as he knew all of the comments were true, and you deserved to know that. so he wasn't one to get mad when such things happened.

except when it came to the idiot cook.

it had been almost fifteen minutes past your usual time and you still hadn't shown up. zoro had gritted his teeth in the middle of a set and set out to find you. it didn't take him long, however, to figure out what was keeping you.

"my dear y/n, you must listened to this acoustic poem i have written in your name," the cook had one of your hands in his, blocking your way up to the crow's nest.

"i'm sure it's lovely, sanji, but i'm in a hurry right now--"

"ah, where, i wonder, must i look to find another beauty such as yourself--?"

"oi, cook! buzz off, will ya? no one wants you around," zoro's voice came from upstairs, and you turned to look at him.

the cook glared at him from behind you, but immediately pouted wistfully when you turned back at him. "don't say that, 'ro," you scolded, and the cook's face lit up at your words, eyes gleaming at the sight of zoro's annoyed look.

"i said what i said," zoro walked downstairs, twirling a strand of your hair around his fingers when he reached you. "buzz off, prince of the perverts."

.

sanji is a little bit of an idiot. insecurity runs in his veins, and thus so does jealousy. you would have felt bad for him too, had he not been making you feel the same way since day one.

his face streamed with tears as he followed you around the marketplace. a few minutes earlier, you had caught him shooting to the sky with a nosebleed because of some poor woman's smile. he had landed right at your feet, the sight momentarily disarming you before you kicked his frame out of the way to walk.

it had been about half a minute of you ignoring him and he was on his hands and knees, begging for you to spare a glance at him. you would have felt bad, had this not been the fiftieth time in a week. you instead chose to turn to usopp, who had grown to learn to ignore sanji and his antics around women ever since they first met at the baratie. sanji's ears turned a bright red at your movement, and he clinged even harder at you

the two of you silently agreed to not wait for nami while she was busy robbing civilized people in a restaurant, and sped up at the looks the passersby were giving sanji, who was practically hanging onto your waist right now.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry, angel, i know that's not gonna cut it but i beg for your humble forgiveness, i will not ever-"

"how do you deal with this moron?" usopp whispered to you, and you whispered back an "i don't know".

sanji kept mumbling things into your hips and pressing soft kisses into your waist, until you gave in when chopper hurried up to where you were, polaroids of your smile hanging around his neck; your boyfriend was just in rehab!

.

ace didn't think you looked half as good with anyone else but him. that is another way to say, he couldn't stand anyone who was within a certain radius from you. he wouldn't talk about it at all, and whenever you would bring it up he would play dumb.

but he hated it; not in a you're-mine-and-belong-to-me way but more in a im-just-a-boy-who-needs-external-validation-to-exist kinda way.

so he didn't like the way you were the only 'daughter' in whitebeard's crew among all the 'sons' who spoke about you like you were a trophy. he didn't like how you were placed under marco's division and not his. he didn't like how both whitebeard and marco laughed at him whenever they caught him looking at you.

after a particularly rough mission, the first division was having a blast with all the treasure they had managed to get back. ace looked at you with a longing pout on his face, about ten feet away from you. you were laughing with thatch at the moment, and he was busy fantasizing about how you would react if he carried you into your shared room on his shoulder, kissed the back of your nape and sucked hickeys to spell his name on your neck--

marco slapped the back of his head and his face fell into his plate with a loud crash.

"thank me later," marco said, eyes unwavering as the man in front of him fell asleep face-first into a plate full of food.

he went away as ace woke up shortly after, his face covered in curry, with men laughing at and mimicking him, but among all of them, his ears only heard the sound of your laughter before you quickly got up to hand him tissues.

.

law did not care. or at least, he pretended not to. after all, it had taken multiple tantrums from bepo to get him to confess to you, and even then he had made it clear he was not a fan of whatever you might have thought to be an 'ideal, loving relationship'.

that was, until today, when you had learned just how far you had to push his buttons to transform him into a romantic man. you could feel law's gaze on you as you laughed at whatever dumb thing luffy had just said, but when you turned around, he was busy conversing with robin about who knows what. once again, you turned to luffy, felt weird, turned back and saw nothing. for every minute you talked to the straw hat about something, you could feel law breathing down your neck, albeit in a subtle manner that no one but you seemed to catch.

"law," you finally came up to him, and he looked up at you as if he hadn't for ages. "is something wrong?"

"what makes you think so?" he challenged, and you could feel robin chuckle next to him. after shooting her a perplexed look, you shrugged and walked back to where the group was having fun, staying a bit closer to chopper this time, for luffy's safety.

it wasn't until the two of you had retreated back to your shared room for the night that you had realised what you felt had not been a hoax. law was on you the moment you lay next to him on the bed, nuzzling up to you and pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and cheeks.

you were confused, to say the least, but you had a faint suspicion that this strange side of law was the idea of a certain archaeologist.

[alchemistc]

Everything's so damn dark when the blindfold slips off that for a second she can't see a thing.

Don't panic. Don't scream. Don't hurt the baby.

Something groans at her feet and she startles straight into the pipe behind her head.

"'lo?" A voice asks, familiar enough to give her pause, and she wonders for a moment if this is a joke, if this is a trick, if this - "s'there?"

His words are slurred. A concussion, maybe, then. Great. Biggest man she knows and he's gonna be a useless pile of puke to her.

Don't panic, Maddie reminds herself, and then she starts giggling.

"Tommy?"

He groans an affirmative.

"Oh good. I feel a lot better about getting overpowered, now."

A hand grabs for her ankle and Maddie bites back a scream. It's Tommy's hand, big and warm and - fully unbound, which feels a little unfair. "Cunt drugged me," he says, then pauses. Squeezes her ankle. "Sorry for the language."

"No, it's, uh - I think it's warranted this time."

Maddie can't remember exactly how it'd happened to her. Had she been hit? Is she injured? She does a mental tally. Her lip feels swollen. Nose and eyes feel fine, though, so maybe she bit it? Neck, shoulders, all good. She's been bending her elbows and wrists just fine, she just doesn't have the leverage to do anything about the zip ties keeping her affixed to the probably pipe behind her. Hips, legs, knees. She wiggles her toes and in the darkness Tommy chuckles. "Everything accounted for?"

He must have done his own check while she was working through hers. She can hear him rustling around. "I'm still incredibly mad at you, but it's nice to hear your voice," she says, and Tommy goes still. "Tommy? All good?"

"...why are you mad at me?"

"Like you don't know?" Oh. Actually maybe she is more mad than she is glad. "You broke my brother's heart, idiot. I don't have any more room in my entire house for the coping mechanism he's come up with." She kicks, a little. Tommy grunts and shifts. "I hope that hit something painful and non-essential to our escape."

"He's - he'll be fine."

"What exactly is your definition of fine? Because it's been a few months and he's still bringing me baked goods on a bi-weekly basis."

"Bi-weekly like -."

"Do not get pedantic on me, Kinard. Two times a week. What's your status? Moving parts all still moving?"

"I think my balls have taken a vacation, but that's more a reflection on how terrifying you are than on this current situation."

Flippant. Sarcasm in the face of Maddie trying to get a full picture. Buck had called him funny and charming. Maddie's second kick doesn't land, but only because he's got a hand wrapped around her foot. "Once we're out of here, I'm gonna punch you in the face."

He hums. "For the balls comment, or the cunt thing?"

Maddie shrugs. Remembers that he can't see it. "Which part of 'broke my brother's heart' are you not getting?"

He sounds like he's moving gingerly. She can hear heavy bulky fabric rustle and she wonders if he's in three layers like usual. She could use something warm. "I - figured he'd be over it by now."

Maddie snorts. If she had to make a guess, Tommy glowers at the noise. "Dumbass."

And then it hits her. "The cunt? Skinny, brunette, pretty? Kind of...angular face?"

Tommy hums and takes her weight as she tries to kick again. "Sounds like her."

"Oh, Buck's gonna be pissed and embarrassed. She's rebound attempt number two."

Tommy's silent long enough that Maddie has to check in. He hums, and goes back to silence. "Rebound attempt?"

"If you hadn't noticed, we've actually been kidnapped, so maybe I can save your relationship afterwards?"

"I think she was trying to kill me," Tommy admits. "Otherwise why am I unbound in this shitty Saw knockoff?"

Maddie feels some extra pieces dropping into place. Oh, Buck is never gonna live this down actually.

"Can you overpower her if she comes in?"

"If she's not quick to try to drug me again. If I can figure out where the fucking door is. If -."

"A yes or no is fine. Pretty sure she's the Bay Butcher, if that helps you answer."

His pause is long. "...maybe," he says, and accepts the kick this time without block or protest.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

My little brother wants to know what it’s like being older, he wants to experience life inside of my fathers body as well as our next door jock neighbor. I was wondering if you could help him out with that?

Be careful what you ask for! Your brother has a reputation for being an irresponsible troublemaker. Who knows what he'd get up to if he had those bodies at his disposal...

"Holy crap!" your brother shouts, seeing his body in the mirror. His jaw hangs open as he runs his fingers through unfamiliarly thick hair, "I'm him...I'm the hot neighbor!"

For as long as you can remember, your younger sibling has lusted after the guy next door. Charlie would spend most of his time peaking out of the window and into Diego's garage, giving him a front row seat to every one of the hot neighbor's workouts.

You always called Charlie a creep for staring at the neighbor, but you secretly understood why he did it. Diego was built like a god. His body was so lean that every vein was visible even from across the street! And now that body is standing in your brother's bedroom, eyes wide with so much disbelief it was comical.

"I'm Diego," Diego gasps softly, a tear of joy coming to his eye, "I don't know how. I was just thinking about him and then..."

"Charlie?"

Diego's head darts away from the mirror and stares at you with glee, "Yeah, it's me idiot! You think Diego would ever be shirtless in our house?"

Your brother turns his gaze back to his new body, licking his lips as he examines the thick round pecs hanging off his new chest. You watch as Charlie raises Diego's heavy arm and gives his muscle-tits a few squeezes. The real Diego would never grope his own body like that. In fact, the real Diego would probably kill Charlie for doing that with his body.

"I think you should give our hot neighbor some appreciation," Charlie purrs, flexing Diego's arms overhead, "I know you like his body just as much as I do big bro."

Your brother is right. Charlie might pull out the binoculars to watch the hot neighbor lift, but you aren't much better. Just last night you were wanking off to the memory of Diego giving you a casual wave as you got home.

"Charlie, this is insane," you try to stay calm, "We need to figure out what's going on."

"What's going on?" your brother uses Diego's sharp voice against you, "What's going on is I have the neighbor's hot body now, and you aren't appreciating it!"

"Please..." you ask your little brother to calm down, but it doesn't do any good. He's only getting more and more assertive with his new body, and it's messing with your head. You have to remind yourself that this is actually your dork of a younger brother and not the incredibly intimidating boy next door.

"Shut up," Charlie snaps, giving you a shove that throws you against the wall.

"Charlie!" you groan, "Don't push me ar-"

"Call me Diego."

Your younger brother swaggers over and sneers down at you. In Diego's body, you have to look up to meet his face, and he seems fed up. Already, he's got a muscled arm pinned against the wall over your shoulder, and already, you feel trapped under him.

"Char-"

"DIEGO!" he barks, slamming his other arm against the wall.

"Diego," your voice shakes, "Aren't you even just a little bit worried about the real Diego?"

"Oh, kiss my ass!" he snorts, "I just liked his body, and now it's right here for me to enjoy."

"But..."

"I told you to kiss my ass, big bro," Diego's intense glare tells you he's not joking.

Your legs feel weak. Somehow your little brother has gone from a loveable rascal to domineering bully! All it took was giving him Diego's shredded body and he's bossing you around like you're his bitch.

He doesn't wait for an answer. Charlie takes Diego's strong arms and pushes you to the floor. Before you know it, he's turned around, and you are face to face with your neighbor's tight bubble butt. You don't want to just give in to your baby bro, but Diego's assertiveness is impossible to ignore. Your face is drawn to that ass, and you lose yourself as you kiss the sculpted glutes beneath the mesh shorts.

"That's more like it," Charlie smirks, "Now that I'm inside Diego, I want some ass kissing from you everyday."

You don't respond. Your lost in the pleasure of the hot neighbor's body, his ass pinning your head against the wall. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad life, after all...

A sudden vibration jolts you out of it. The walls shake as the door to the garage is raised with a buzzing motor. Dad is home!

"Shit," Charlie says with Diego's mouth.

"I'm telling dad what's going on!" you cry, rising to your feet.

"What! No, I was just kidding about the ass stuff," Charlie panics, "Dad won't understand!"

"I don't care!" you shout and stomp out of the room. Your ego is slightly bruised by how quickly you folded for Charlie. It doesn't matter that he's wearing the bulky neighbor like a costume. He's your younger brother, and you just kissed his ass, literally!

Maybe your father can make sense of all this Freak Friday nonsense! He always has a calm decisive answer to everything.

"Hehe, beat you to him, bro!"

Your jaw drops when you see your father in the living room. The man just got home, but he's already waiting for you with his shirt ripped off. His entire beer gut is hanging out in the open, and he's shaking his torso around like he's trying to show it off.

You can't help but recoil from the sight. Your father hates taking his shirt off. The man wears shirts in the pool to keep people from seeing him like this! Yet, now here he is, without a self-conscious bone in his body.

"Dad, what are you-"

"Ooh I like it when you call me dad," his voice lowers, like he's trying to be playful.

"Wait, Charlie?" you gasp.

Your father throws his hands on his hips and smiles at you. He's the kind of guy who's only ever smiled when you scored in a sport or won a game. You can't help but feel like you've earned his approval when you see that grin. It really sucks that this isn't actually your dad.

"How did you even..?"

"I don't know, bro! I just really didn't want you to tell dad, and then I blinked, and then I was here: inside him!"

"Well get out!" you say firmly. Charlie wearing the neighbor's body was one thing, but this doesn't feel right. He shouldn't be playing around with your father like this.

"What, no!" he snorts, "Dad's even more fun to be. I feel so fat and hairy!"

"Dad's not that fat or hairy," you retort sternly.

"Oh come on," your father's voice purrs, "Look at the flab on this guy!" Charlie grabs the bloated stomach with Dad's arms and gives it a playful shake. Your real dad would be mortified if he saw how his body was acting!

"Charlie, don't do that to him."

"Shut up! I feel so big and manly in his body," he explains, "And he's still sore and sweaty from work too!"

You watch in disgust as your father raises his arm and takes a long whiff from his armpit. The real man would normally jump in the shower the second he got back from his day at the construction yard, but Charlie obviously enjoyed Dad's smell of hard work.

"I think I've had a long day of work, son," Charlie suddenly announces, lowering his voice in a cheap attempt at dad's typical monotone, "Grab your old man a beer."

"No," you pout, rolling your eyes.

"No?"

Suddenly your father pounces on you, locking you into a tight headlock with his meaty arms. You try to slip out. His bare skin is slick with sweat, but your little brother holds you there with an unyielding grip, laughing with dad's deep voice.

An hour later and you're washing dad's truck. Charlie released you from the headlock, but only after he'd told you how excited he was to manhandle you again. Apparently, he couldn't wait to use dad's body to keep you in your place.

You grabbed him his beer and massaged his shoulders like he told you, but you didn't do it happily. Your own father was now bullying you around because your stupid little brother somehow managed to hop in his body. He wants you to go upstairs and clean his bedroom next. It's getting late, but you don't want to make Charlie angry, especially now that he's put a few beers in dad's belly. Who knows what your power-drunk little brother will do when he's inebriated!

You just have to accept it. Charlie has your dad's body and you have to do what he says. This is your life now...

These amazing images were generated by @bodyhopper-files

[ericshoney]

Black Eye ~ Brothers!Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: Nick, Matt and Chris are home in Boston so they decide to drive you to and from school, but as they pick you up, they notice you hiding your face.

Warnings: possible swearing, nicknames,a fight, black eye, mentions of bullying, random name for the bully, slight angst, fluff ending

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your brothers were home in Boston for a while and offered to drive you to and from school. You agreed as it saved you from walking. Today was no different for the morning.

"You ready kid?" Chris called, as you ran down the stairs and grabbed your bag.

"Let's go!" You cheered.

You got in the car, where Nick and Matt were already waiting. The guys talked about their plans for the day as you played on your phone for the car ride. Nick, who was next to you, glanced at your phone.

"Hope your not texting any boys." He said.

"Or girls." Matt added.

"Only friends. I'm twelve, not even thinking about dating." You responded.

"Good. Too young for a boyfriend or girlfriend!" Chris exclaimed, making you giggle.

You soon arrived at school and said bye to your brothers. Matt rolled down his window.

"We'll pick you up later and go get some food, sound good?" He suggested.

"Yeah! See you later!" You replied, waving as they drove off.

You walked into school, joined a couple of your friends and looked forward to going out with your brothers later. You thought it would be a good day.

That was until lunch.

You were just sitting on a bench with your friends, chatting and showing each other random TikTok's, when she came over.

Willow Jones.

She was an absolute bitch in your opinion. She walked around thinking highly of herself and her little followers.

"Hi you little troublemakers, burned down the science lab yet?" She teased.

"No, we're waiting till your in there." One of your friends replied, making you laugh.

"What are you laughing at, brat?" Willow responded.

"Sorry, you talking to me?" You called, looking around.

"Who else? Is there another spoiled brat with famous brothers here?" She called.

You laughed and shook your head. You knew you'd encounter your brothers haters at some point, knowing they were just jealous idiots as Nick called them and you knew Willow was jealous.

You stood up as she kept taunting you, walking over to her, your friends watched closely. Before you could even think, you punched her in the face. Her friends winced and screamed as your friends cheered.

"You bitch!" She spat.

Willow pushed you down and punched you in the face, your left eye to be precise. You tried to push her off but she was too heavy and your eyes were blurry from the punch. You scratched her arm as she was pulled off you, both being sent to the principal's office.

After a scolding of the principal, you were free to go. You quietly went to your last few classes, hearing the whispers all around you, whilst your friends tried to distract you.

When it came to home time, you walked slowly, wondering how your brothers were going to react. Would they be angry? Worried? Proud even? You couldn't quite figure it out, so you covered your face with your hair, hoping they wouldn't ask.

"Hey kiddo!" Matt called.

You glanced up and saw the car. You gave a wave as you climbed in the back alongside Nick.

"How was school?" Chris asked as Matt began driving.

"Alright." You mumbled, looking down at your lap.

"You okay?" Nick asked.

"Yeah, just tired and hungry." You responded, it wasn't a total lie.

Nick, Matt and Chris shared a silent look as you kept your eyes on your lap. Chris turned the music up slightly, making you sigh in relief, thinking they weren't going to ask.

But they did.

"Why are you covering your face?" Matt asked.

You looked up slightly and noticed you were parked in a restaurant car park. You sighed and looked out the window.

"It's just how my hair is." You lied.

"No bub, what are you hiding?" Chris asked.

You knew fighting wouldn't work, it would only make all of you angry. You caved and moved your hair out of your face and let them see your black eye.

"What the fuck!" Nick screamed.

"Is it bad?" You asked.

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Chris she has a fucking black eye of course it's bad!" Matt shouted.

"What happened, sweetheart?" Nick asked, gently touching around your eye.

You then explained everything that happened, how Willow was being and how you punched her but she got you back. How she and her friends had been picking on you and your friends for a while.

"What did the principal say?" Chris asked.

"I got lunchtime detention tomorrow and if it happened again I'd be suspended." You answered.

"Well, I'm proud you stood up for yourself, but pissed you got caught." Nick said, making you laugh as Chris and Matt shouted.

"You shouldn't be fighting people, not in school, petal." Matt said.

"I know but she made me angry." You responded.

"We understand, bub. Next time, out of school." Chris said.

You laughed and nodded, letting them have their jokes. You were happy they weren't really mad, but you still had to face your parents yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags:

@lgbtq-girl @mattsfavbigtitties @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @riowritesitall @sturniolo-fann

[jesswritesthat]

can i request a kuroo x reader where reader is bokuto’s sib? that would be so funny and how would he act towards them? and HOW BOKUTO WOULD REACT AT THIS😭😭 love yaa

A/N: omg I love this idea!!!

>>>>——————————>

Kuroo Dating Bokutos’ Sibling Headcanons:

• Ironically Bokuto was the one to introduce you to Kuroo, and he would never have shown you off so proudly if he could predict the future.

Alas - you walked into a busy Fukurōdani Group Training Camp during their second year equipped with a bento box and a string of curses.

“See how amazing my family is Rooster hair? My biggest fan brings me lunch!” Bokuto slings an arm around your shoulder beaming with grateful pride.

“Ugh, yeah yeah. I figured you’d need energy and I wanted to see Akaashi too…” You retort, looking for your fellow first year in the gym.

• Bokuto issued you an expression of feigned hurt, hand on his chest and putting you at arms length as he hunched over.

“You wound me!”

“If that’s all it takes, I need to take notes.” The Nekoma player commented, this leaving Bokuto barking back at him before returning to ‘normalcy’.

“Anyway, this is my wonderful sibling (Y/n) and this is Kuroo Tetsurō. A middle blocker for Nekoma.”

“Nice to meet you Kuroo.”

“Likewise.”

• It was meant to be left at that, and each of you involved in that situation would’ve agreed too. Except, you found that the way he matched your wit magnetic, and how he’d join you when teasing Bokuto became a highlight of your time spent at the camp.

• Akaashi had noticed it too, addressing it rather bluntly since he was the one you lingered around most often.

“You and Kuroo-san get along well.”

“I know, he’s kinda cool. I’m glad I got to met players from other teams, no wonder Kōtarō likes these training camps so much.”

“You’re right, they are fun.” He’d dismissed is as friendly acquaintances. For now.

• It wasn’t until the next practice match between Fukurōdani and Nekoma that you saw Kuroo again (and you’d ensured to come by the gym before the match to see them). This time warmly greeting each other like friends rather than strangers. A ritual that continued very time Nekoma were involved in Volleyball events.

• It’s near the end of second year that Bokuto finally started to notice, this wasn’t how ‘just friends’ acted. Your brother was oblivious to this stuff usually, which is why it had taken an interaction longer to catch on, but when it came to you he was more observant with such things.

• It’s written in the way Kuroo leans in to listen to you; how you refill his and Kenmas bottles; that you seem to be laughing together more often than not; and in the way you look at each other. It incurs a narrowed analytic gaze from the Fukurōdani Ace.

• When you felt hands clasp your shoulders and steeer you away with an intimidating undertone to his upbeat voice, you figured he was on to your little crush.

“I’m taking (Y/n) away rooster hair, my sibling and I have things to discuss. Don’t we?”

“Crap.”

“Oh yeah, you’re damn right.”

• Golden eyes boared into you intently as if expecting you to spill all your secrets, Akaashi also present to such painful tactics.

“This isn’t going to work Bokuto-san.”

“Give it time Akaashi! I‘ve been unbeatable since we were kids.” The Ace dismissed, not breaking stern eye contact with you.

“Kōtarō, you’re an idiot.”

“And?”

“And nothing.”

“Oh nothing about Kuroo hm? That scheming bastard not charming enough huh?”

“Yes he— I mean no— argh this is so unfair!”

“HAHA! See, told you I’d get ‘em.” Bokuto smugly nudged Akaashi who looked far too tired for your sibling antics right now.

• Well at least you’ll only see each other at volleyball events, which aren’t too frequent to build on. Especially a long as Bokuto lives and breathes.

“I got his number.”

“YOU WHAT?!” He’s dramatically shaking your shoulders as of its going to realign your senses.

“He — gave — number — in touch.”

“I’ll spike his stupid face!”

“You’d do that anyway.”

“Not the point (N/n)! I’ll do it 100x harder now!” It was rather eccentric, but you’d like to think he would actually commit to such a thing ‘purposefully’.

• So your secrets out. Bokuto isn’t happy about it. And Akaashi is the embodiment of Switzerland but with more conspiracy.

Oh you want a moment to talk to Kuroo without Bokuto knowing? He’ll distract him. Bokuto can’t supervise all the time? Akaashi is monitoring Kuroos interactions.

• However you manage to meet up in Tokyo without the pretences of volleyball games or training camps. It’s purely to see one another and through this developing friendship, and with each outing creating a level of comfort, it was natural for the flirty banter to start.

• Such a tiptoe game preceded to their third year, and it became dangerously obvious that the pair of you had a thing for each other but neither of you had acted on it. At first Bokuto was relieved and eager to pettily drag you away whenever the opportunity arose. But now he’d kind of understood that the growing feelings were more genuine than he’d originally assumed.

• It’s still a surprise when Kuroo charismatically pulls him away to an empty gymnasium after training, only to take a more awkward and serious tone when the nerves set in.

“Bokuto, you know you’re one of my best friends right?”

“Yeah man, but I’m not into you that way.”

“Woah, you wish frosty tips.” Kuroo breathed out with a smirk, more at ease thanks to that remark. “I was gonna ask for you blessing as lame as that sounds.”

“Eh? What for?”

“To ask (Y/n) on a date…”

That’s when the humour tainting his expression fades, when the amber in his eyes burn, and the muscles of his crossed arms tense up.

“I see.”

• It takes you a moment to grasp the situation too, of Tetsurō actually asking you to hang out with him after the camp ends - with the specificity of it being a date this time. It doesn’t take long for you to accept, even if you did tease him a little.

“Has becoming Captain made you braver?”

“Oya, I asked before you did (Y/n). Let alone the fact you couldn’t resist my offer~”

• Kuroo finds the situation the easiest to deal with you think, he acts natural even if he is a bundle of nerves underneath it all. His existing relationship with Bokuto and teasing personality make it easier to adjust to. Although sometimes you’ll over hear conversations between the two.

“Thanks for asking rooster hair. Anyway… how’s (Y/n)?” Bokuto asks, slightly more apprehensive than their previous conversation about teams.

“Happy I hope, though I annoyed them the other day - ate the last snack from the packet.” Kuroo snickered, only for Kōtarō to cut in.

“Yeah? You should try taking a bunch of photos, that really gets to (Y/n).”

“Hey?! Don’t help him!” You shout down.

• It amused you in the beginning, one specific time when Kuroo came to your door to pick you up only to find an expectant Bokuto.

“Well well well, look what the cat dragged in. I can’t possibly allow my beloved sibling—”

“I have fried chicken.” Kuroo held up a warm takeout bag, conniving smirk in place.

“Deal, take ‘em wherever you want.”

“Kōtarō?!” You explained, your brother accepting the food without a second thought and ushering you toward the door.

“Eh? You haven’t bribed me in a while, rooster hair is my favourite right now. Out you go, don’t keep the man waiting.”

• They also go shopping together whenever it’s a celebration that involves you. They gladly put yen together for a big gift, or give one another recommendations - yet act completely innocent about it when you call them out on it.

• Sometimes you even feel like you’re third wheeling if Tetsurō visits the Bokuto household, their bromance truly was one of a kind. Though you didn’t mind, grateful that your brother and boyfriend got along so well.

• Bokuto still had that big brother protectiveness though and Kuroo was a scheming bastard when exploiting it. He’d playfully kiss you or show affection in front him - Kōtarō immediately pulling you into him with a look of utter disgust.

“How dare you lay your hands on (Y/n)?”

“Kou, he’s my boyfrie—“

“He knows what he did!”

• Overall it’s a positive experience, and it feels like Kuroo is already apart of the family due to the connections you each already share. They both make the effort to ensure you are happy when they can, and keep in touch fairly often. To be honest your certain they let the other know if your in a bad mood… so much for loyalty y’know?

• However, one thing you haven’t discovered yet, is that when Kuroo asked for Bokutos’ blessing, he readily accepted.

“I see.”

A look of contemplation, and then a beaming smile.

“Finally man! Course you have my blessing bedhead, I can tell you care about (Y/n) and would protect them like I would. Plus I know they’d be happy.”

“Thanks Bokuto, I’ll give it my best if they accept.”

“You better. Else I’ll kill you.” This was sinister, it was that deranged look he got when lost in a match, the one before the most earsplitting spikes - suddenly replaced with his usual carefree grin.

“Whatcha waiting for huh? Get out there and ask (Y/n)!”

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

[milaisreading]

Sae acts cold, arrogant, and egoistic but when the reader is around him he turns into a soft and gentle simp for her.

🌱🩷: Someone asked me to do a one shot of that one post I made abt Sae simping for Isagi's sister. So I might as well write it like this! Hope u like it!

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. Requests are open

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura ⚽️

"Sis, can we get these? Mom won't mind, right?" Yoichi wondered, pointing at the box of chocolate that he was holding. (Y/n) looked away from the list Iyo gave her earlier and at the item her brother was holding.

"Hmm I don't know. Didn't you have enough sweets already?"

"Please. I didn't indulge in them for months. Blue Lock is torture." Yoichi pleaded with her for a good minute until (Y/n) ended up sighing and nodding her head.

"Fine. Put it in." She said, showing him the basket.

"Thanks, sis. You are the best!" Yoichi cheered, causing (Y/n) to blush a little.

"Ahh~ me? No, I am not. Don't flatter me too much." She laughed a little, not noticing someone looking at them.

"Ah... You two are here?" (Y/n) and Yoichi jumped in surprise and turned to look at the familiar figure.

"Sae-san? What are you doing here?" (Y/n) wondered as Yoichi raised an eyebrow at that as well.

"Mom wanted us to visit some family friends here in Saitama. I just grew bored of her picking what to buy as a present." Sae shrugged, causing (Y/n) to laugh a little.

"Ah~ it's not easy to pick gifts."

"Wait, is Rin here, too?" Yoichi raised an eyebrow, earning a nod from Sae.

"Yeah. A few isles down." He pointed and Yoichi took off there. The two older siblings stayed rooted to their spots, blinking at each other for a moment.

"So... You are back from Spain." (Y/n) said, trying to break the awkward silence.

"Obviously."

"Hahaha..." The girl laughed nervously at his harsh tone.

"Oh! Looks! Uhm... beans... my mom wanted some..." (Y/n) said as she noticed the cans and went to pick up a few, which wasn'tthe best idea as they were high up and she hhad to tip toe. Sae stared at her back silently.

'Why is he so cold? And what am I going to do with beans?!' She thought while sweating.

'So adorable.' He thought. He was interrupted by a sudden crash being heard to his left.

"What..." He muttered and looked back, only to find that some guy had tripped and the things he was holding fell on the ground.

'Such an idiot. How can one be so stupid to trip on nothing? Losers all around-'

"Ow!" Sae turned to look back at (Y/n), who had fallen on the ground with a can of beans next to her. The boy's heart stopped beating for a moment as he noticed her frown.

'So adorable! She is so cute.' Sae felt his cheeks dust a bright pink as he observed her face.

'That frown... literally could give anyone diabetes.' Sae thought when a boy around their age approached her, extending his hand out in the process

"Miss, are you alright? Let me help you up-"

Before the guy could finish, Sae was already there, hand grabbing onto (Y/n)'s.

"I will help you. Mind your business." The boy looked at Sae and flinched as he noticed the glare.

"S-sorry."He said back as he quickly backed away.

"That was so weird." (Y/n) muttered.

"Yeah, weird." Sae said, going back to his usual stoic face as (Y/n) got up.

"Thank you,Sae-san. Sorry for embarrassing you like this-"

"You didn't. Accidents happen." The words and much softer tone from Sae startled (Y/n) a little.

"Uh... are you sure?" She asked nervously.

"Of course. Come on now. We need to look for our brothers." Sae hummed as he dragged her away.

'Her hands are so soft.' Sae thought as he looked down at the hand he was holding.

'Why is he glaring at my hand?!' She gulped in fear.

A week later...

'This is so awkward....' (Y/n) thought as she looked out of the window, trying to distract herself by looking at the snow falling. Now, why would she be distracting herself? Easy answer! Sae Itoshi was sitting right across from her, staring/glaring into her soul.

'Oh! He is probably mad that Yoichi still didn't agree on joining Re Al! Ahhh, poor me!' She cried inwardly.

'Ahh~ she looks even cuter today! (F/c) definitely suits her! My adorable angel! How can someone so clumsy be so graceful?' Sae put his had over his chest. Heartbeat on an all time increase.

"Here you go, sir, miss. Ice tea and hot chocolate. Enjoy." A waitress said, putting down the beverages.

"Ah! Thank you." (Y/n) smiled at the woman as Sae nodded his head.

'That smile! Nobody compares to it-'

"Ouch!"

"Are you alright?" Sae turned to the couple sitting to his right,curious as to what happened.

"Yeah, it's just that I burned my tongue on the coffee. I wasn't aware how hot it was." The man answered, clearly embarrassing by it.

'Can't these people think for themselves?! It's coffee! A hot beverage, of course it will be hot-'

"Aww, hot hot hot." (Y/n) silently chanted, putting her hot chocolate away. Sae, alarmed, turned to look at her.

"Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah... I just burned my tongue on my hot chocolate." She laughed a little with a flushed face. Sae blinked at her for a moment.

'Ahh! Her cheeks look so adorable! It's alright, (Y/n). Let me help you! She is so cute, I could never be mad at her. It's the hot chocolate's fault anyways. Why was it so hot?' Sae glared at the beverage as he handed her his ice tea.

"Take a little bit of it. The cold will help your tongue."

(Y/n) blinked at it for a minute.

"But it's yours-"

"I don't care, drink it." Sae demanded.

"Ok." She said back, taking the cup and taking a few sips.

'You will be dealt with.' The pro-player thought, glaring at the abandoned hot chocolate.

"So... today's meet up wasn't about Yoichi?" (Y/n) wondered as both her and Sae walked down the street. The boy nodded for what felt like the 10th time. Usually, he would feel annoyed if he had to repeat himself, but that wasn't the case here.

'It's my fault, I should have been more clearer with my answers.' He thought, even if he said 9 times a clear 'no.'

"Oh... Then why did you invite me-" The girl cut herself off as she slipped on the ice. Closing her eyes, she was prepared to hit the ground, but instead felt two arms wrap themselves around her.

"Whew! That was close, are you hurt?" Sae thought, feeling his anxiety spike a little. Opening her eyes, (Y/n) looked up at him and shook her head.

"N-no, I am fine. Don't worry."

Sae nodded his head, keeping his arms still wrapped around her as they stood there in silence for a moment.

"Y-you can let go of me now." The girl said in embarrassment, and Sae was about to agree when something hit him.

'What if she slips again and falls for real?! What if someone pushes her to the ground?! What if she hits herself?! No! I can't let that happen!' The boy nodded to himself.

"What are you doing?!" (Y/n) exclaimed as Sae lifted her up into his arms as started carrying her.

"Just making sure."

"S-sure?! For what? S-Sae-san, this is embarrassing." (Y/n) said as her face turned a dark red.

'So adorable!!' Sae thought, ignoring the confused stares of the people around them.

'She is so soft~' He sighed, looking down at her dreamily.

[obeymeshallwedateaddict]

Can I request some headcaons for the brothers nagging MC yo set up a meeting with their and MC just being like “Okay…but my family isn’t your average traditional family so heads up 🤷‍♀️.” And when they finally do realize MC and their mom are exactly the same. Even down to the point where their mother has her own little harem going on. If this is too weird for you then you don’t have to do it lol. 🫶

I have one thing to say..

Do we love weird? YES

Do we want weird? YES

Do we get weird? YES, OF COURSE >;D

Summary: The brother's reactions to MC and their mother being so similar to the point where both of them have their own male harems.

GN!MC

You can find more of my work here: Masterlist

The apple doesn't fall far away from the tree

It was a regular day in a not so normal Devildom. You were sitting at the dining table with the seven brothers eating breakfast. You were too focused on your food to look at the others.

Mammon: Yo MC! We've been thinkin'.. what's your family like?

The question caught you off guard and you shot the second-born an "Are you serious?" look before shaking your head.

MC: A family. Haven't you seen a family?

You got back at your food.

Asmo: Could we peerrhaaps meet them?

MC: No.

A few hours later you are in the hallway at RAD, leaning against a wall, wondering what your next class was. Suddenly though the twins show up with smirks on their faces.

Belphie: MC? Whatcha up to?

MC: Doeeessss it concern you?

Beel: Yes.

You shake your head before sighing.

MC: Do you know what my next class is? I forgot.

Belphie: we'll tell you if you let us meet your family.

Oh come onnnnn!!! Couldn't you be more oRiGiNaL?! You roll your eyes and push your body away from the wall.

MC: Y'know... I suddenly remembered what my next class was. I'll see you around, boys!

After school you are walking home with Satan. A regular walk? Perhaps not.

Satan: MC? You know.. we do want to meet your family.

MC: Not happening.

You smile at Satan dramatically and continue walking in silence.

At midnight. You were in Levi's room to play games. Though the thing was.. Levi chose a family simulator game? Why?

Levi: I thought we could play something else today.

MC: Sure I don't mind. Though why a family simulator?

Levi: B'cuz.. eh.. I want to meet your family? So I'm trying to simulate it?

MC: Levi you don't make sense. Plus I'm tired. Let's play tomorrow.

You leave the room with the biggest frown on your face.

The next morning at The House of Lamentation! It's nice. It's peaceful. Breakfast is tasty. Until a certain Father figure, I mean... oldest brother decides to open his mouth.

Lucifer: MC, we've decided. We want to meet your family.

MC: Stop nagging and leave me alone. This has been going for too long.

Lucifer: I wasn't asking, MC. This is a demand.

You look over at Lucifer with the most idiotic, dumbest face you could pull up. Really? You too?

MC: Okay. Buuuttt.. my family ain't your regular family.. sooo heads up, guys. I'll call them tomorrow. You better be ready for this.

Mammon: Eh? Why?

Asmo: Hmm.~

(Lucifer staring into your soul)

The next day. The seven brothers are lined up in the hall wearing a bit more formal-ish clothes rather than their regular ones. Confident about meeting your family. Soon enough Lucifer teleports you to the human world right in front of your house. You walk up to the door and violently pull it open.

MC: MOOOMMMMM MY HAREM'S 'ERE. COME MEET EM!!!!

You can practically feel a few of the demons gazes burn a hole through your back but... Do you care?

Your mother came out looking similar to you. Too similar.

Mammon: MC that your twin or somethin'?

MC: Eh twin? I ain't got a twin. This is my mother, guys!

You turn to your mom.

MC: Mom, those men are my boyfriends and part of my harem.

Father and son AKA Lucifer and Satan don't particularly like the word 'harem' apparently.

Lucifer: MC..

Satan: MC...

Mother: Oh my gosh, sweetheart! Like mother like daughter!

She wraps her arms tightly around you.

Mammon, Satan, Belphie: Wait what?

Mother: MC they are so handsome! I'm so proud of you, honey! Personally though I like that one the most. (She points at Lucifer who IMMEDIATELY how do I highlight this more? gets all smug about it.) What's his name?

MC: *turning to look over at where her mom's finger is pointing and nod*

Oh, that one? Ah yes. That's Lucifer, mom. He's nice.

Lucifer: Just nice? And what do you mean "that one" don't you have more respect?

Satan: Yeah it's too kind for you. You are awful. AND you deserve NO respect.

Belphie: Totally agree.

Mammon: Couldn't you choose a better one rather than that asshole? (I don't feel like Mammon's gonna make it)

Lucifer: MAAAMMMOOOONNNN?? (R.I.P Mammon. We loved you.)

Mammon: EEEEEK!!!

Completely innocent Beel looks over at you completely ignoring the banter between Lucifer and his three biggest headaches.

Beel: MC what did your mother mean by 'like mother like daughter'

You look over at the sixth-born and smile.

MC: oh right. Forgot to mention. She also has a harem! Of seven as well I think? *You look over at your mother, waiting for confirmation.

Mother: *Nods head.*

All brothers: WHAT?

Asmo: Can I meet them~

Belphie: Asmo, stop being perverted for a second.

Levi: For real. This is serious.

(Mammon being confused along with our cinnamon roll Beel)

(Lucifer staring dead into your eyes)

(Satan being ready to throw a tantrum)

MC: They have cats. Each of them. A few at that.

(Satan is suddenly very interested and happy.)

Mother: They are such great cooks. Each of them!

Beel: WHERE?

(Belphie putting a hand over Beel's mouth.)

MC: They are rich.

Mammon: Y'know... I suddenly don't mind the fact that you called us your harem and stuff.. could I meet 'em?

(Lucifer angrily steps on Mammon's foot. Repeatedly.)

Mammon: AUGHHHHHHH LUCIFER STOP STEPPING ON MY FREAKIN' FOOT. I DON'T WANNA MEET 'EM ANYMORE!

Lucifer smiles gently. Perhaps more sadistically. (But he sure ain't gentle right now) at your mother before turning to you with a loving gaze (He certainly doesn't want to punish you. Noooo~)

Lucifer: MC we are going home. We are happy that we got to meet your family. We are leaving.

The eldest grabs your hand and before you could say goodbye to your mother you find yourself in The House of Lamentation's entrance hall once again. Let's just say it was a fun night. Lucifer punished~ you. (We know what he did. Right?) Saying he is the only one for you. (Likewise :] ) The rest of the brothers barely talk to you during the rest of the week. Don't worry though. Soon enough all of them remind you that you belong to each of them alone. (As if) And soon enough stuff is left and forgotten.

Everything ends well when everything's well.. right? <3

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Family

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, Sam Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: You’re the Winchester’s little sister, but you don’t look anything like them, which causes some problems occasionally

“Just one room.”

“She legal?” The motel clerk glanced at you, then frowned at Sam and Dean.

“She’s our sister,” Dean said, disgusted, while Sam scowled at the guy.

The man scoffed.

“Your sister? Right, do I look stupid?”

You felt your head droop, and tried to push away the hurt that stabbed at you. You didn’t blame the guy for wondering; you were John Winchester’s daughter, but Mary wasn’t your mother. You took after your mother in looks, meaning you looked nothing like your brothers. That might not have bothered you as much, if you also hadn’t spent the first several years of your life with your mom, away from your brothers. You saw the intense bond they had, and you couldn’t help but feel like an outsider, even though you hardly remembered life before them.

Trying to compete with the years they had before you felt like an uphill battle. And it definitely didn’t help when every new person you met acted like it wasn’t anywhere near the realm of possibility that you were family.

“Just give me the dang room key,” Dean growled. The guy looked skeptical, but you figured he wasn’t paid enough to bother arguing, and he handed over the key. “Thank you,” Dean said a little too aggressively, and the three of you went to find your motel room.

“Sorry,” you weren’t sure why you mumbled an apology to Dean, and he turned to you in confusion.

“Don’t apologize, he’s an idiot,” Dean swung an arm around your shoulder as he led you to the room. “He’s going on looks alone, but blood runs deeper, little sister.”

…

“Hey, sorry, family only,” a nurse held out his hand to stop you as you tried to enter Dean’s hospital room.

“She is family,” Sam insisted, trying to lead you around the man.

“Look sir, it’s just our policy.”

Sam turned to glare at the man.

“I told you, she’s family.”

“It’s ok Sam,” you mumbled. “Just go in, Dean’s probably anxious to see you.”

“No, it’s not ok,” Sam insisted. “Sir, she’s our sister, and she’s going in that room.”

“I…excuse me, you’ll have to talk to one of my superiors,” the man slipped away, and Sam turned to you.

“Dean wants to see you, too. I’m getting you in there.”

“He’d rather see you anyway, it’s really ok.”

Sam’s head cocked to the side.

“What? What are you talking about, Dean wouldn’t-“

“Sam, please don’t lie to me,” your eyes fell to the white tile floor as you avoided Sam’s penetrating stare. “You and Dean are like-like totally inseparable, and I don’t want to get in the way anyway. If they won’t let me in, Dean will be fine, but he needs to see you.”

“That’s ridiculous!” You jumped a little at Sam’s outburst, and he lowered his voice to avoid attention. “Kid, Dean wants to see you just as much as he wants to see me. You’re his little sister, in the same way that I’m his brother. And the same goes for me,” Sam knelt on the ground so that his face invaded your lowered eyes, and you had no choice but to look at him. “Sweetheart, your family. You deserve that title every bit as much as Dean and me.”

“I’m not even a real Winchester,” you blinked rapidly as tears stung your eyes. “We don’t even have the same mom. I don’t look anything like you guys.”

“You think that matters?” Sam sounded so heartbroken. “Y/N that means nothing, ok? You’re our sister, our family. You mean every bit as much to me as Dean does, and don’t you ever forget that. Understand?”

“Alright, what seems to be the trouble here?” A woman asked as she approached you and Sam.

“No problem,” Sam insisted. “I’m taking my sister in to see our brother, if you have a problem with that, too bad.” He brushed past the woman, guiding you with a firm hand on your shoulder as the two of you entered Dean’s room.

“Sam,” you whispered before you got within earshot of Dean. Sam hummed. “I understand. Thanks.”

Sam grinned.

“Anytime, little sister.”

[nymphybae]

Rainstorms with Alastor

It's unusual for hell to rain, yet this time the droplets grow heavier and thunders struck loud enough to make you unease. You shivered, covering your ears as you tried to focus on the television in front of you. Everybody else was asleep except for yourself, how can you when the storm reminded you of how you met your life's end.

The tv lost its signal and soon powered down, leaving you in an unsettling silence in the lounge room. You pursed your lips, feeling restless as you watch the rain pour from the window.

Footsteps were heard, coming closer into the room. You didn't need to second guess who it was, facing the red haired demon who looked down at you with a sly grin.

"Can't sleep my dear?"

"Yeah.. I just-" A loud thunder storm cut your sentence, immediately putting you in an anxious stance. Your hands were shaking, hugging yourself as an attempt to calm the pulsing in your heart.

Alastor puts his hand on your shoulder, giving you a faint squeeze. "Come with me."

You were a little curious, wondering why he's leading you to your own room.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" He asked, pulling the chair of the tea table you had next to the window. 

"I'd love it." You smiled as he motioned for you to sit. 

With a snap of his fingers, he conjured the equipments needed for the drink.

"This is my favourite batch of tea, it's aroma is just purely sweet as if it came straight from heaven, ha!" he brewed the pot with his dark magic. 

"Here." 

You took the cup, thanking him as you took a sip of the warm tea. Who would've thought the caffeine would help you so much. "It's really good! No wonder you order this batch every other month."

Alastor sat across you, holding a cup himself. He had a pleased smile on his face. "Glad to hear. Now, tell me what's troubling you so late at night?"

Should you really tell him? You figured it was too silly, especially for the radio demon himself. Out of all things that could displease you in hell are the vigorous sounds from outside.

"I hate thunderstorms." You admitted. He didn't say anything, as if waiting for you to continue so you did. You took a deep breath. "It reminds me of the little remnant memories I have left of my death. I lived below mountains, you see. My brothers locked me out of the house because I turned in on our family’s illegal trading to the police- which I obviously didn’t. Then a really terrible thunderstorm came, wiped out most of our crops and farmland. The heavy wind threw me down a lake and I drowned till water filled my lungs.” You took another sip of the tea. “I guess it wasn’t the death, it was the fact that my own blood betrayed me only because of their own assumptions, and I end up losing everything in the end. But they got to live, probably thinking that I left and never came back.” Your hand formed a fist at the thought. It was a short silence for a bit until Alastor spoke.

"Hah, Men.” He poured more tea into his cup. You chuckled at his remark. Who taught him that sort of phrase?

“When exactly did you die again?”

You hummed in thought. “Decades ago.. I can’t recall.” 

Alastor’s permanent smile remains plastered on his face. “Men are soulless and willingly disobedient during my time! There were always reports of disloyalty in newspaper. I would know, I broadcasted them in my radio show!” 

You clicked your tongue playfully. “So much for someone who was a serial killer.”

His grin grew. "Haha, But I was not a vicious idiot darling!" 

“Oh? Did you happen to have any experiences with men in your li-“

A lightning struck at the hotel's electric circuit.  electricity buzzed and every power in the hotel was cut off. The only bit of light in your room came from the windows. 

"Shit, see this is why i fucking hate the rain." You panicked, shuffling around in the dark until a pair of hands grasped you from moving and hitting the furnitures. You look up and saw his glowing red eyes. 

When you finally stood still, he pulled his hands off from you. "Don't worry yourself. I'll take care of this." 

"Wait- You can't leave me here." 

Alastor hums a familiar tune, holding up his cane as he gave you his arm to take.

You hesitated at first, taking his arm before you both teleported to his radio station. 

"Why are we here?" You asked, looking around his personal building.

"Who did you think manages the electricity here? I can't let outsiders control our power supply, especially that excuse for a television head!" He opens a large electrical box, taking a glance at all of the smoked up wires. You waited there awkwardly, covering your ears in preparation for the next thunder strike. 

"You’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you~" he sung to himself, working on the wires. 

"Frankie Valli's a classic." You spoke out. He's been humming the song for the whole week now.

“Couldn’t agree more darling! Apologies if it’s bugging you. I suppose the song is stuck in my head for some time.” he turned on the said music on his radio.

“How ironic! I remember my last theatre show was me dancing to this song.” You tapped your feet to the beat.

Alastor walks over to you, taking both of your hands that were covering your ears. “Let’s see if those dance moves are still in tact.” 

The music swept through the room as they danced together, moving enthusiastically while you try to hold in your laughter.

I love you baby! And if it's quite alright, I need you baby. to warm a lonely night.

I love you baby, trust in me when I say

You felt warmth spread throughout your entire being as Alastor spun you around. All the anxiousness from the on going storm washed away as you lead the dance, guiding him through a series of steps.

And there, in the midst of the music and the rhythmic beat, he saw something in you that he had never seen before. A determination, a drive, and a passion that left him chuffed.

The music faded away, and so did the rainstorm. You were quite pleased at this, looking at Alastor with a bright smile. "That was fun. Didn't even realized the power went back on halfway through the dance."

He tilt his head, planting a gentle kiss onto your knuckles. "It's been a pleasure. I suppose now you'll feel much better to lay off in bed?"

You nodded. Why of course, as from now on the heavy thunderstorms will only remind you of this unforgettable night with your beloved co worker.

[maximoff-pan]

ooh! how about a dick winter blurb where they talk about their future? just something short and sweet to get you dipping your toes into the BOB fandom...

this was so cute and fun to think about! and thank you; I’m dipping my toes in quite slowly but hopefully this is an okay (ish) start — if you’d like me to write a little more for the wonderful easy company boys, just let me know! feedback is always much appreciated 🥰

also I maybe have taken liberties making the reader canadian — sue me for indulging

pairing: dick winters x fem!(cwac)reader

word count: 500

note: this is a complete work of fiction and is based only on the fictional representation of the show band of brothers. No disrespect is meant towards any of the men of easy company or those who fought in ww2.

July, 1945: Zell Am See, Austria 

“Have you thought about what you might do after all of this?” 

The question causes your lip to quirk slightly in thought. You never dreamed there’d be an after. “I dunno.” Is your truthful response. “I always figured this war would be it for me.”

Dick’s eyes lock with yours in understanding. He knows the feeling well. 

“Lew has offered me a job at Nixon Nitration.” His voice carries gently across the water, his leg grazing yours, dangling from the wooden dock below you. It’s so quiet you can almost hear the dew drops hitting the surface as the early morning sun catches Dick’s hair. It creates a wonderful glow, like embers dancing through a fire.

He looks beautiful like this, you think. At peace in the bask of the Austrian sunlight. 

“That’s perfect.” You tell him. “I think that’ll be great for you.”

He swallows before speaking, “He said you could come with us.”

“Did he now?” You chuckle. “The ever presumptuous Lewis Nixon. But the offer does sound intriguing.” 

He smiles. “I was hoping you might say that.”

Your eyes lock once again, playful grins gracing both your faces. Reaching for his hand, you grasp it in your own, rubbing your thumb lightly across the skin. It’s rough from battle, but warm and comforting nonetheless. 

You angle yourself forward to face the water better, now purposefully side by side with the man next to you. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you feel him relax, posture sinking in content. 

“I was thinking—” He pauses briefly, momentarily collecting his thoughts.

“That’s never a good sign.” You tease him.

Dick doesn’t react to your jibe, simply taking it in stride as he usually does. “Humour me.” He decides upon.

“Alright, I suppose I can do that.” You say.

“Come with me to New Jersey.”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “I feel like we just had this conversation.”

Dick chuckles finally at your obliviousness. “No, I mean live with me. Buy a house, settle down, spend our lives together.” 

Your head lifts from his body, shifting once again, you raise your legs to sit cross-legged on the dock. Dick turns to face you, much the same. He looks hopeful. 

The words tumble breathlessly from your lips, “You mean together, together? Like—”

“Marriage.” He confirms. “A couple kids, a white picket fence – the whole American dream. If that’s what you’d want, of course.” 

Dick is usually able to read your expressions like a book he’s read an unfathomable amount of times, but right now, the pages are blank. He can’t seem to get a read on you. 

A few beats of silence pass agonizingly slowly, one, two, three, then – a smile breaks out onto your face. “You do know I’m Canadian right?”

He grins in return, but not wanting to push his luck, he asks,“Is that an ‘I’ll think about it?’”

“It’s a yes you idiot.”

It would always be a yes.

[lostinforestbound]

AHHH YOU'RE THE BEST THANK YOU FOR DOING MY REQUESTS 💖💖 YOUR WRITING IS TOP NOTCH

can i come at you with another request, if i could? can i request a human!tav/reader that has never seen a tiefling before the grove, and they get curious about rolan?

- 💛

Aww thank you for the compliment! I'm glad you like my silly little writings! This request was a lot of fun!

Rolan With a Tav Who's Never Seen a Tiefling

When Tav first arrived at the Grove and stared at him in a strange way, he immediately thought the worst. Great, another human who will look at them all in such disdain.

Worst of all, they convinced his siblings it would better for the trio to stay and help the other refugees. Now not only are they irritating, they butted into his family affairs.

He's snippy, when they go to speak with him. Of course he is, he's bitter. How dare they insert themselves in a private argument? How dare they look at him with that weird face? They don't deserve his time.

He doesn't realize that look is wonder until they manage to speak civilly.

They explain, while a bit embarrassed, that they've never actually seen a Tiefling before. Whether it's living a sheltered life, never coming across them, or only seeing them in illustrations, they've just never come across them.

Their weird looks finally make sense to him: they were just curious about him.

When they become a little more comfortable with each other, they'll ask simple questions if he'll allow it. Are his horns heavy? Does his mouth feel crowded with his sharp teeth? How about his ears, are they sensitive? His tail?

He'll answer in vague terms, sometimes because he's annoyed with the questions, other times he's just embarrassed about explaining Tiefling biology.

No, they're not allowed to touch any of his traits.

Sometimes he wonders why him? Why not Zevlor? He's probably more than comfortable explaining their unique traits. But no, they want to talk to him.

Lia and Cal know exactly why, giving each other amused looks anytime those two talk. They love their brother, but sometimes he's an idiot; they hope he figures it out, for all of their sakes.

Writing Blurb

"So the base of the horns would be more sensitive than the tips? Would that apply to the tail as well?"

Someone please kill him.

He feels as though they're driving him into insanity. Why are they even interrogating him with these questions? He was sitting peacefully with shitty wine before they decided to saunter over. Why him? Zevlor would be more receptive. What is their game?

They don't seem discouraged by his lack of response, chatting away as he stares longingly at his now empty wine bottle. "How about the ears? I actually heard Elf ears are sensitive at the tips and use that advantage during foreplay."

He wants nothing more than to sink into the ground. Or get drunk, whichever comes first.

"What about-"

"Can you not ask your Tiefling friend these questions?!" He shouts, dropping the empty wine bottle.

"Oh, I could."

"Then why don't you? Surely she would be happy to explain things to you."

"I want to hear it from you!"

"I'm not answering these idiotic questions of yours, you absolute degenerate!" He hisses, not noticing how flushed his face is, "Gods, it is not helping that you're asking these so damn loudly."

"Would you answer them if I get you another wine bottle?"

"No."

That makes them burst into a laughing fit, and Rolan's blush gets even worse. He's embarrassed, ashamed, pissed, and flustered all at once. They're clearly making fun of him, and he doesn't appreciate it one bit. He's tempted to bare his teeth at them but they manage to calm down their laughter.

"Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"Clearly." He states sarcastically, tail thrashing in his irritation.

"I mean it, I swear. I enjoy talking to you. A lot."

He looks at them in confusion, almost exasperated. "What?"

"I like hearing you talk."

Before he could respond, they gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek, which silenced him on the spot. He had no idea what to say, and they didn't even give him a chance to speak before they got up. "Let's talk later, yeah? I have plenty of questions for you."

As they walk away from him, he idly touching the place they kissed. Hells, he's done for. He internally prays any god willing to listen for their strongest alcohol as he goes to search for another wine bottle.

[gingerteafairy]

veins of the forgotten (dean winchester x reader)

You felt a rush of determination, but also a flutter in your chest. You had a challenge ahead of you, but you weren’t alone. And that, somehow, made all the difference.

word count: 4.8k

⟵previous chapter. next chapter

"Okay. Let's slow down a bit…" You laughed nervously, rubbing your temples while pacing back and forth. Your shoes clicked against the pavement, each step adding to the growing tension. Stopping in front of the two brothers, you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. They were staring at you with a serious intensity that made you feel small—like they were waiting for you to figure out some huge cosmic puzzle. "You guys... you showed up in London with... this car... and no backup plan?"

Sam shifted on his feet, awkwardly glancing down, then back up at you. "We were teleported."

"Don't. Say. That. Word." You raised a finger, cutting him off. Your laugh came out a little louder than you meant, but it helped calm your nerves as you looked over at Dean. He just pressed his lips into a thin line.

"We have a friend…" Sam started again, gesturing like he was measuring every word carefully, trying not to scare you any more than you already were.

"Castiel," Dean interrupted, his voice matter-of-fact. "He’s... an angel."

"An angel?" You crossed your arms, giving them a look of disbelief, as if they were trying to prank you. "And this somehow explains your free ride from Kansas to London?"

"He said he had something important for us. Well, for Dean," Sam explained quietly, pointing toward his brother. Dean nodded, the usual smugness in his demeanor replaced by something closer to mild embarrassment. "We were on a hunt, and next thing we know, we’re parked in front of this house."

"And a half-baked story about creepy bugs," Dean added with a crooked smile, scratching his head like he was still trying to make sense of it all.

"Why didn’t you guys just say that earlier?" You threw your hands up, uncrossing your arms and putting them on your hips, your patience starting to run thin but with just the right amount of amusement in your voice.

"Wait, you believe in angels but not ghosts?" Dean raised an eyebrow, giving Sam a look like he'd lost his mind. "Cut me some slack. We've been living with Castiel for months, and I still don’t get that guy," 

"It’s not crazy. I’ve seen an angel before," you replied, the words almost slipping out before you could stop them. You could feel both of them turn toward you, surprise written all over their faces.

"Really?" Sam asked, leaning in with curiosity.

"Yeah. When I was 16, an angel woke me up in the middle of the night and said he had a message for me." You smiled faintly at the memory, but there was a sense of wonder in your voice, even now. "I knew he wasn’t human right away. He had the strangest features and this intense, glowing light that made my room look like it was on fire."

"Whoa," Sam said, a low whistle escaping his lips. "Okay, now this is getting weird. So you understand our situation and… you know, our job."

"Yeah..." You smiled, but there was a thoughtful look in your eyes, the memories flickering back to you. "But back to this—how do we get Castiel to show up so we can go to South Dakota and find your buddy Bob?"

Dean threw his head back with a chuckle, shaking his head as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "That’s the thing. The idiot only shows up when he feels like it."

"Why am I the idiot?" A voice suddenly came from behind you, low and gravelly, so close that you nearly stumbled forward, your breath catching in your throat.

"Jesus!" You gasped, spinning around. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

Castiel stood there, his light trench coat fluttering slightly in the breeze, his intense blue eyes fixed on you with that unreadable, angelic stare. "Hello. I am Castiel. It seems the mission was a success."

You blinked, still caught off guard by his sudden appearance, but then something familiar hit you—the warmth in his gaze, the calming presence he exuded. You felt your heartbeat slow, and without thinking, you reached out to shake his hand.

"It’s you..." you whispered, your voice softer now. A lump formed in your throat as you looked into his eyes. "That night… If it weren’t for you..."

"But you are here, aren’t you? You're strong." Castiel smiled slightly, his voice deep and soothing. He let go of your hand and moved into the center of the group, a quiet authority settling around him. "We need to get moving. There are things we need to discuss. And my friend here could use some rest."

You smiled faintly, nodding, your voice soft but grateful. "Yeah. Thanks, Castiel."

Dean muttered under his breath, crossing his arms as he watched you and Castiel. "With him, you're all sweet and polite, huh?" He rolled his eyes, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he grabbed the keys from his pocket and headed toward the car.

"Jealous much?" Sam teased, nudging his brother with his elbow, laughing at Dean's clear annoyance. Dean shot him a look that could melt steel.

"Shut up," Dean grumbled, opening the car door with a little more force than necessary. "I’m choosing the music this time."

"What is this, a therapy session for your little jealous?"  Sam said, laughing. 

Dean’s lips twitched into a smirk. "I don't need therapy. But you all might after this drive."

"Heavy, angry lyrics. Hope you like it, folks," Sam joked, looking at you and Castiel  in the rearview mirror.

"Metallica or Black Sabbath?" you asked, fastening your seatbelt as you shot Dean a grin.

"Iron Maiden, sweetheart. Wasting Love," Dean replied, then cranked up the volume. The guitar riff thundered through the car’s speakers, filling the space with the heavy, unmistakable sound of classic metal.

Castiel glanced at you, his expression unreadable, but something soft flickered in his eyes. "This is… an interesting choice," he remarked, sounding almost intrigued.

"You’re telling me. Buckle up, it’s going to be a ride," you said, leaning back in your seat, settling in as the music filled the car, blending with the strange calm that had fallen over you all.

The engine of the car roared to life, its deep growl echoing in the still night air. You could feel the vibrations under your feet as Dean slammed the gas pedal down, pulling the car onto the road. The landscape outside was vast, dark, and open. You leaned back in your seat, glancing at Castiel, who was still sitting in the back, his hands folded calmly in his lap. He seemed oddly out of place here, in the midst of the heavy metal blasting through the car’s speakers.

Dean grinned, eyes focused on the road. "Hang on tight, we're about to make this a speed run." He tapped the steering wheel in rhythm with the music, his body moving with the beat, as if the car was an extension of his own self. His eyes flicked over to you in the rearview mirror

 The night air blurred past, and in the distance, a lone house came into view. It was isolated, perched on the edge of a field, almost too perfect for a place to hide some deep mystery.

“Here we are,” Dean said, pulling into the gravel driveway with a squeal of tires. The car bounced a little, but he handled it with ease, coming to a smooth stop in front of the house. "South Dakota, baby."

You smiled, your heart fluttering just a bit. The house was nothing like you expected. Small, rustic, surrounded by tall grass and wide-open space. It looked almost too quiet, the kind of place where secrets could easily linger.

Dean killed the engine, and there was a brief moment of silence, just the sound of the night filling the air. 

You unbuckled your seatbelt and stepped out of the car, your boots hitting the gravel with a soft crunch. You turned to face the house, feeling a strange sense of calm wash over you as you stretched. You couldn’t help but feel that this was somehow exactly where you needed to be. You glanced toward the backseat and saw that Castiel was gone. Not a sound, not a sign of movement. Just… vanished.

You raised an eyebrow, looking at Dean, who was already stepping out of the car with his usual cocky swagger.

"Well, that’s just typical," he muttered, tossing a glance at the empty backseat. "Always vanishing on us when we need him." He slammed the door shut with a little more force than necessary, his frustration obvious. "Must be nice to just  pop in and out whenever you want. No traffic, no waiting for lights. Damn angel’s living the dream."

You rolled your eyes and smiled. “It’s Castiel. You know he works in mysterious ways.” You shrugged, pretending not to care, though you secretly admired how easy he made disappearing seem.

Dean just grunted and led the way toward the door, kicking up dust as he walked. "Whatever. Let’s get inside. Bob’s waiting."

The door creaked open, and you stepped into a dimly lit hallway. A faint smell of wood and old leather filled the air. The floorboards creaked underfoot as you followed Dean through the narrow hallway.

Dean knocked on the door at the end of the hall, then opened it without waiting for a response. Inside was a man—short, stocky, with a thick beard and an easygoing smile. His presence was warm, like an old friend, and he immediately extended a hand toward you.

"You must be the one they’ve been talking about." His eyes twinkled as he shook your hand. "Name’s Bob. But you can call me Bobby. Everyone does."

"Bobby," you said, returning the handshake with a smile. "Nice to meet you."

Dean rolled his eyes from behind you. "Yeah, yeah, can we get to the part where we can crash?"

Bobby chuckled, his voice rough and raspy. "Always in a hurry, aren't you, kid?" He waved toward the far side of the room, a small hallway leading to the next door. "Your room’s through there. Take a load off. I’ll catch up with you guys in a bit."

Dean grunted his thanks and waved toward you. "Go on. I’ll be in in a sec."

You nodded and made your way toward the room Bobby had indicated. The door was slightly ajar, revealing a simple bed, an old wooden desk, and a window that looked out over the field. It was quiet, peaceful even.

You walked in and sat on the edge of the bed, your fingers running along the rough quilt, the cool air from the open window brushing against your skin. A sigh slipped from your lips, and for a moment, you just let the silence take over. But before long, you heard footsteps behind you.

Dean stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his usual smirk creeping onto his face.

"So, what’s the deal?" You looked up at him. “Are you worried?”

Dean’s smirk fell apart. "I’ve been right more often than you know. It’s a curse." He sighed, then ran a hand through his hair. "You’ve been through a lot and I'd keep an eye open  if I was you."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What do you mean?"

Dean’s tone lowered, his eyes darting toward the door as if he expected someone to be listening. "I don’t know, creepy foster dad. Powers. Something’s off. But Sam’s talking to Bobby right now, so we’ll see what shakes loose. You stay sharp, alright?"

"Always," you said, giving him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. 

Dean returned the grin with a sarcastic snort. "Good. That’s what I like to hear."

Before you could respond, you heard a knock on the door. It was Sam, his usual calm expression on his face. "Hey, I need to have a word with Bobby. You two good here?"

Dean stood up straight and nodded. "Yeah, we’re good. Don’t worry about us."

Sam gave you a look, a silent question in his gaze. You nodded in return, and with that, Sam disappeared out the door, leaving you alone with Dean once more. 

The silence that followed felt heavy—charged with unspoken things, questions, and doubts—but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you flashed him another smile.

"So, what’s your plan, tough guy?" You leaned forward, playfully tapping your fingers on the bedspread. "Going to interrogate Bobby while I get some sleep?"

Dean rolled his eyes again, but there was a warmth to his gaze as he moved to sit on the bed next to you. "Maybe. But first, we’re going to make sure you’re alright. We got a lot to figure out."

“Yeah…” You nodded, locking eyes with him. Your heart sank slightly as your gaze flickered to his lips. The memory of the kiss in that house was still fresh in your mind. It was just to break the curse, but the idea of it lingered. What would it be like if that kiss hadn’t been about magic? If it had been something real, romantic? 

He sighed, his eyes betraying a flicker of hesitation as they lingered on your lips, before quickly shifting back to meet yours. "Lame we brought you here without an extra pair of clothes."

"I'll figure something out. Maybe Cas could help me. Maybe he can hear my thoughts. " You said it with more confidence than you felt, forcing a lighthearted smile as you sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Cas,” he repeated, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place—was it irritation or something else? He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching you as you unbuttoned your coat. He didn’t look away, but his expression was guarded, lips tight as though he were working through something in his mind. 

“Where are you sleeping?” You asked, folding the coat carefully and setting it aside. Your fingers trembled slightly as you bent down to untie your boots, a little self-conscious under his watchful gaze.

“Couch,” he replied with a small, almost apologetic smile, though his eyes still held that edge of teasing mischief.

“Ouch.” You cooed playfully, tilting your head to give him a sympathetic look. His chuckle was low, the kind that rumbled in his chest, and it made your own lips curve upward. “Why don’t you sleep here?”

“What? No.” He straightened, his eyes wide with exaggerated surprise. His face flushed slightly, and you noticed his posture stiffen as if he wasn’t sure whether you were joking or being serious.

“Oh, the ultimate loverboy, Dean Winchester, is shy about sharing a bed with a woman?” You teased, standing up and taking a few steps closer to him. You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow, watching his reaction carefully. 

“We won’t sleep if we do, baby,” he smirked, voice dropping lower as he leaned in slightly, a playful but knowing glint in his eyes. You nudged his shoulder with yours, giggling despite the annoyance that bubbled up at his teasing.

“You ruined the moment,” you laughed, your shoulders finally relaxing, your gaze softening as you met his. You let out a sigh, standing a little closer to him now, the space between you both feeling oddly charged.

“Saw an opportunity, I grabbed it,” he shrugged nonchalantly, his smirk widening into something more genuine. You couldn’t help but laugh again, feeling a little lighter, the tension melting off you as you sat back down on the bed.

“Fine,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “But seriously, you don’t have to sleep on that couch. Bet it’s gonna give you a terrible backache.” You gestured toward the outside with a teasing glance, the worn cushions looking too uncomfortable for someone like Dean to endure for long.

“Thanks, but I’m used to it.” He gave a small shrug, his tone light but somehow a little distant, as if he was brushing something aside. “Sleep tight, okay? Good night.” His words softened, and you could hear the faint sincerity behind them. His smile was gentle, not the cocky one he usually wore. He took a few steps back, heading toward the door.

“Good night.” You waved, offering him a smile. The door clicked shut behind him, and you were left alone in the room, the silence settling in. The weight of the events from the day suddenly seemed to hit you all at once. You sighed, letting the tension in your body slowly release as you pulled the blanket over yourself. The soft fabric felt comforting against your skin, and you nestled into the bed, your body sinking into the mattress.

The room was quiet, save for the distant hum of the house. Your mind buzzed with questions and thoughts, but they faded as the warmth from the blanket enveloped you. Slowly, your eyes grew heavy, the exhaustion of the day catching up with you. The last thing you remembered was the sound of your own breathing, the soft rustle of the blankets, and the faint feeling of his presence lingering in the air.

---

"Have you noticed how high the ceiling is?" you ask, narrowing your eyes as you trace the details of the old house with a slight tilt of your head.

"What’s wrong with her?" Bobby’s voice is tinged with irritation, clearly uncomfortable with the new figure lying on the rug instead of the comfy couch behind him.

"She… doesn’t leave the house much," Dean responds smoothly, flashing a polite but slightly strained smile. His gaze lingers on you as you stretch your finger toward the roof’s imperfections, and then his eyes flicker to Bobby, sensing the tension building. Bobby shifts his focus between you and the two brothers, a deep furrow between his brows.

"So your idea is to bring that thing to my house?" Bobby asks, voice low but heavy with disbelief, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. He watches as you lie on your stomach, your face inches from the wooden floor, observing the ants marching in their steady rhythm.

"It’s the best we can do," Sam speaks, voice dropping just enough for only Bobby to hear. "She’s been through some things, we told you yesterday. Doesn’t have a home, and we think she might be in danger."

"My house isn’t a hotel," Bobby grumbles, his voice gruff as he crosses his arms, glaring at both brothers. "Especially not for her. She’s not even human."

"She’s not dangerous. She..." 

"She almost killed her own father," Bobby cuts him off, his tone sharp and direct. "I’m sure she knows how to defend herself."

"Bobby, you’re our only option," Sam continues, glancing back to make sure you’re not listening—though you’re too busy watching a crack in the wood, lost in your own thoughts.

"I don’t like this…"

"Please," Dean’s voice is low but intense, his eyes locking with Bobby’s. For a brief moment, his gaze holds an almost desperate intensity, something Bobby rarely sees in the older Winchester. There’s a warmth in his eyes, a burning need to protect you.

Bobby swallows, taking another glance at you before turning back to Dean. His voice softens, almost reluctantly. "Fine. But if she does anything out of line, I swear to God, I’ll kick her out."

"Thanks," Sam and Dean both reply, their words in unison, and Sam’s hand grips Bobby’s, a final seal on the deal.

Dean pulls away from the conversation, leaving Sam and Bobby to discuss the details of your stay. He moves closer to you, sitting down on the floor beside you, his presence like a silent shadow. You shift slightly, trying to make yourself comfortable, but you’re cautious—careful not to aggravate the injuries still fresh on your skin.

"So, talking to the birds? They're not exactly the friendliest here," Dean jokes, his voice light, but his eyes still intense.

"Can you believe that a passerine woke me up saying that I drool when i sleep?" you reply with a small smile, sharing the moment with him, but it’s more a distraction than genuine amusement.

"You... okay?" His voice softens, hesitation in his words as his eyes flick over you, noticing the discomfort in your posture.

"I’m trying," you smile weakly, but your eyes fall to your scratched-up hands, a reminder of everything that’s happened. 

Dean moves closer, so close that you can feel the heat radiating from his body. His fingers brush over your palm, sending a shiver up your spine. The contact is almost too brief, but it leaves a tingling sensation in its wake. His fingers trace the lines of your hand, brushing over the scars, as if silently studying every mark and injury. His touch is deliberate, gentle, but there’s something deeper beneath it.

"And you? You okay?" you ask softly, your voice low as your eyes meet his. The space between you seems charged now, the air thick with unspoken words. 

"I’ve been better," he answers quietly, leaning back against the couch behind him. He tilts his head to look at you, his eyes scanning your face, as if reading something there he can’t quite understand. "It’s... strange. I’ve been on worse hunts, but something about this one’s got me off. Maybe it’s just paranoia, I don’t know."

"Being tied to me that bad?" you tease lightly, watching him snort softly through his nose, leaning closer to the couch as though he doesn’t notice how your faces are inches apart.

"No," he replies quickly, more quickly than he expected, and then clears his throat, realizing how close the two of you are. He’s trying to hide the blush creeping up his neck but fails. "I mean... this whole ‘marriage’ thing’s pretty... weird, don’t you think?"

"Oh, we’ve already skipped ahead to marriage, huh?" you respond, voice playful yet teasing. "Getting a little too hasty for someone who’s not looking for a commitment, huh?"

"Is there gonna be a honeymoon? ‘Cause if there is..." Dean leans in a little more, his tone suggestive, the teasing smile curving up his lips as his eyes darken with playful mischief.

Your only reaction is to shove him back, laughter bubbling out of you in disbelief. "You’re something else, you know that?"

"You think you can provoke me and get away with it? You’re mine now," Dean grins, his voice full of challenge, but deep down, he knows that the words stir something inside him.

Mine.

The mood shifts as his playful smile falters, the weight of the words hanging in the air between you both. Something flickers in his gaze, a heat that lingers long after the joke’s over. For a moment, it feels as if the space between you both has shrunk, tension filling the air like electricity.

Before either of you can say anything, Bobby appears in the doorway, breaking the moment. Without thinking, both of you instinctively pull apart, the distance between you suddenly unbearable, your cheeks flushed, and you both smile awkwardly, trying to mask the unspoken charge that lingered.

"So, what’s the plan?" Dean asks after clearing his throat, trying to focus, but his clenched jaw betrays the frustration he’s trying to hide.

"A hunt," Bobby announces, his tone firm, and you exchange a glance with Dean.

"A hunt?" Dean echoes, his brows furrowing, his posture tense. He stands up, and you follow suit, your own muscles stiffening as the situation begins to shift.

"There’s a powerful witch terrorizing some people in town. Kids," Sam explains, drawing everyone's attention. "15 victims in just three days. We think she might be able to help, so we’re all gonna—"

"I never said all," Bobby interrupts sharply. "She goes alone."

"What?" you all ask in unison, confusion and disbelief flooding the room.

"No, wait," Dean says, exhaling sharply, trying to keep his cool. "She’s not going alone. You know what she’s been through, and honestly—"

"I don’t care," Bobby cuts him off, his shoulders shrugging nonchalantly. "She needs to bring me that witch, intact."

"I can do it," you step forward, voice steady, your confidence shining through. 

"Are you sure?" Sam asks, his voice filled with concern. "If you want, we can help. You don’t have the experience."

"It’ll be a walk in the park," you reassure him, shaking your head. "I know what I’m doing. I just need a few things."

You move toward the living room, looking for some books and paper. The men follow, but Bobby stays back, watching you with a piercing gaze. Dean stays right behind you, his presence like a shadow as you gather your supplies.

"When I studied with Buckley, he told me a few things. Actually, I read a lot of his stuff in secret, and then he explained it to me," you begin, finishing the first list on a sheet of paper.

Sam reads through it, narrowing his eyes. "Pistol, empty shells, salt, cotton, herbs, and... fried chicken?"

"What is this, halloween party?" Bobby mocks, stepping closer.

"No, the fried chicken is for me," you joke, laughing softly with Dean. But Bobby doesn’t seem amused.

"From what I understand, this is an ancient type. Not a witch. More like a wild animal with hemophilic tendencies."

"You need to stop thinking everything’s biology, doll" Dean interrupts with a playful grin, his voice smooth, but his eyes gleam with mischief. You raise an eyebrow, intrigued but skeptical.

"Doll?" you whisper, rolling your eyes at the nickname. Dean winks at you, unfazed.

"Sorry. But I know you liked it," he teases, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

"Dean’s right," Sam interjects, his tone serious now. "What we’re dealing with isn’t easily explained. We can try what you’re suggesting, but you’ve got to realize that we deal with things that aren’t... normal."

"I’ve heard your stories. I trust you guys. But I still don’t think it’s a witch," you insist, your voice steady but uncertain.

"Witch or not..." Bobby steps forward, his expression hardening. "You’ve got five days."

"I can do it in three," you retort confidently, arms crossed in defiance, daring him to doubt you.

"Deal," Bobby says with a rare smile. "I’ve got high expectations."

“Hey, doll. Can you come with me for a second?” Dean’s voice cut through the air, low and urgent. He pulled you into the kitchen, his hand gripping your arm just a little tighter than usual. The way his fingers wrapped around your wrist was firm, but there was an undercurrent of something else—a tension that wasn’t lost on you. “You outta your mind?” His whisper was barely audible, but it sent a shiver down your spine. His breath was warm against your ear, the proximity making your pulse quicken.

"I can do it, Dean," you reassured him, meeting his eyes. Your fingers instinctively intertwined with his, offering a silent promise of trust, something unspoken but deeply felt. It wasn’t just about the challenge anymore—it was about the two of you.

"I know you can," he replied, his voice calm, almost surprisingly sincere. His grip softened for a moment as he met your gaze, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes—concern, maybe, but also admiration. “But three days? That’s crazy. How are you supposed to do it if we take a whole day just to get there?”

“Oh.” You froze for a split second, biting your cheek as you processed his words. Then, a sly smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “So, we gotta hurry.”

Dean chuckled, his shoulders shaking slightly as he let out a breath. “You’re freaking competitive,” he teased, the grin spreading across his face like a wildfire. “But I’m going with you. You still need someone to drive, or, you know, hold you together in case you freak out and kill the witch.”

You smiled brightly, squeezing his hand in return. “Thanks,” you said softly, grateful for his support. You gently pulled him back toward Sam and Bobby, both of whom had been quietly observing the exchange. They caught sight of your clasped hands, and a brief, knowing glance passed between them. It wasn’t anything overt, but it was enough to make you feel like you were on the edge of something more.

“Luckily, everything you need’s in the house,” Bobby remarked, his voice steady but his eyes narrowing slightly, as though sizing you up. “The fried chicken? You’ll get that with Dean on the road.” His tone was gruff, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—a hint of approval, or maybe just a begrudging acknowledgment.

With a curt nod, Bobby handed over the requested items—several tools, a map, and a few supplies you might need—and gave you a few quick instructions. He was all business, but there was a sense of finality in the way he spoke, like he knew what this would mean. Then, without another word, you both headed out of the room.

[chaoticbardlady99]

Maryë (Astarion x GN! AFAB Reader) MDNI 18 +

Synopsis: Astarion left to explore the world and himself following the death of the Netherbrain. You remain in Baldur’s Gate with your brother, Gale, resigning yourself to your fate as Astarion’s friend until you die. Until one day, you and Astarion begin to write letters back and forth. Except there is one letter in particular that you suspect isn’t from Astarion…

CW: minimal mentions of violence, smut, Oral (Female Receiving), PIV, Tav’s also just an oblivious idiot who apparently doesn’t think very hard about words (it’s me, I’m Tav the idiot and this is like my Fiancé and I’s friendship prior to ya know, dating lmfao)

Author note- I might also write this in AMAB! Format, but I need to do some… research first for accuracy. This is lightly edited and just some silly little thought I had. I wanted to write something not so detailed for once while I work on my drafts for Lethal Woman and She’s Not Acid Nor Alkaline. Also def stole a line from Tolkien and added to it at the end (this is me crediting).

You’ll either love this or hate this idk.

The title literally translates to Home in Elvish.

Photo belongs to idk who so please reach out if it’s yours!

As always- likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, I am just terrible at responding.

Tav,

As much as I enjoy our current form of communication- I was wondering if I could come to see you in person.

I have so much I need to say to you and I want to be able to do it in person- the proper way.

I hope to hear from you soon.

Yours,

Astarion

You sit and stare at the letter like you have been doing for the last week since you received it. Unlike your half-brother, Gale, you are not one for words. It was hard to respond to Astarion’s letters initially until Gale “doctored” your responses- often putting whatever silly accomplishment you have achieved lately or stories Gale found interesting from your recent solo adventures.

“Are you going to write the letter or are you hoping it’s going to write itself?” Gale teases.

You scowl at him and shake your head.

“I don’t know what to write back.”

“I could come up with a couple things!” Gale clears his throat, “‘ Oh Astarion- I’ve missed you terribly this whole time! I regret telling you that we should be friends until you figure things out! Despite my VERY WISE BROTHER’S ADVICE TO NOT DO THAT! I wait like a lovesick puppy at the mailbox every week hoping a letter may arrive!’”

You roll your eyes at him and throw one of his many decorative couch pillows at his head. He certainly has your mother’s flair for the dramatic. However, you can’t necessarily say he’s wrong- you have been nothing less than a smitten school girl waiting for letters non-stop.

Astarion had gone back to the Underdark after the last battle with the Netherbrain. He told you that he wanted to go and explore who he is- the world too.

You had been as enthusiastic as you could about the decision considering you had come up to him at the party with a letter in your hands asking if he would like to continue traveling with you after this- you had been too scared to say it outloud. A part of you hoped it may allow your romance to blossom without the impending threat of death at every corner. Well, if he still harbored any feelings for you at all.

You had merely smiled and told him how excited you are for him. It answered the silent question that had been there- was there still room in Astarion’s heart for you after you said you should just be friends and try again later?

The answer was ‘no’, despite Gale’s perplexed face and lecture when he found out you gave the spawn a send off with a ‘long’ hug (he made you describe it in detail). You refuse to give yourself any hope- you will remain a dutiful friend since you resigned yourself to this fate.

Then you received a Sending spell with him requesting your address and the letters began. You squealed like a schoolgirl when the first one came in and ripped it open enthusiastically. You didn’t realize Gale was home, otherwise you wouldn’t have read it out in the open- Tara snitched on you!

You had only truly met Gale around a couple months prior to your mutual abduction. Your mother had asked you to assist a brother you never knew about in finding magical artifacts- you quickly learned it was because the man was becoming a damn recluse.

You had worried he’d slam the door in your face or turn you into a sheep for all of eternity- the minute you told him your name was Tav Dekarios, he pulled you in for a hug and told you he had been awaiting your arrival. Gale was thrilled to know that, like him, you were also a prodigy in your craft.

You are a virtuoso master with any instrument you touch and you cast spells that are almost far too good to be true. You became Oghma’s Chosen in your teen years after spending many years practicing under his mentorship (which is why you and Gale had a very weird, serious talk one night about how Mystra is kind of a fucking pedophile) and that allowed you to do incredible things.

Your notes could create shimmery images and tell stories- Arabella and the other tiefling children (even the very tough Mol) enjoy coming over and watching war tales be told with nothing but a drum and a rain stick. Sometimes you let them tell tales and you come up with a tune to match it- eventually finding a rhythm to put your mind into and create the picture.

It was one of the many things Astarion mentioned in his note- he stated that none of the other Bards even begin to hold a candle to your talent. You blushed deeply when you read the line.

He told you about everything he had seen, everyone he had met, what he’s found out about himself, and shockingly enough- how much he misses you. It had taken you by total surprise, but you responded saying you missed him too.

Pet names began to flow easily into inked lines and it felt like you had a tiny part of him back in your life- your friendship is still as strong as it was before he left.

The letters have quickly become the best part of your week and occasionally you’ll read them with Arabella. She ooos and awwws, then attempts to bully you into tell Astarion your feelings. You cast a mini rain shower over her head with a few poetic words for the suggestion. You don’t want to ruin what you have and there is always the possibility that he found someone else.

However, you weren’t unsure of this particular note because you didn’t want to see Astarion- you would love that. The issue is that it doesn’t look like his handwriting, it isn’t the paper he uses (he’s ridiculously particular), and it doesn’t flow. Gale thinks you are over analyzing it, but you are pretty sure that this isn’t Astarion’s writing. He also addresses you as “Darling” not Tav and signs the letter of with “‘Órenya ná órelya” (my heart is your heart) not “Yours”.

You’ve waited for another note to come in since, but nothing has. You are beginning to wonder if Gale is right and you really are just being paranoid.

“I already told you, Gale,” you say with annoyance, “something isn’t right about this note. I don’t think this is from him which is worrisome because that means I haven’t heard from him in two weeks WHICH could MEAN-“

“For the love of Gods- TAV,” Gale yells, effectively shutting you up, “my young, oblivious little sibling. Just say yes and let him come visit.”

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

It had been two days since you sent the sending stone and there was no response. Not that it would have mattered anyway considering you are somewhere in the Underdark in a very beautifully lit cave. Neon, blue veins of magic run through the rock. The pathway is lit with glowing flowers and…. Benches?

It had all happened so fast. One moment you were walking home from the market and the next- Astarion had come up to you from an alleyway and said he needed help. He had told you that he would love to catch up, but there is an injured child around the corner and since he can only stay in the shadows, he needs you to help them. Before you knew it- someone hit you with a sleep spell and the last thing you remember seeing is stars as your head slammed into the pavement. Oh and a, “oooooffff my bad” before you blacked out.

You blink your eyes a few more times, trying to figure out what in the wretched hells is going on.

“Oh for the love of- I told you to talk to Oghma’s Chosen! Not kidnap her and give her a serious concussion!”

A hazy, short figure comes into your vision. Is that…. a Deep Gnome?

“You told us it was imperative for the wedding! We intercepted the real letter and wrote this one,” another Gnome says, “and it worked! They showed up and everything! We’ve been watching since you told us to talk to her two weeks ago! We were running out of time for talking and bargaining so we just-“

“Kidnapped them!” the man yells, “you kidnapped them!? You- you imbeciles! They are supposed to want to perform for the wedding- you had at least six more hours! AND I GAVE YOU TWO WEEKS!”

“But Walby-“

Walby.

You know Walby! He and Barcus have been dating for a while now and the two are over the moon smitten. You are very happy for Barcus- this man is everything Wulbern could never be.

“No! I have had enough of your silliness! Leave me at once!”

You hear the three Gnomes that supposedly ambushed you walk off in angry huffs. A flash of healing magic fills the air and your head is finally clear- your ears no longer ringing like a triangle.

“My apologies, Ms.Dekarios,” Walby, says, “I wanted them to give you an invitation to come to Barcus’ and I’s wedding this afternoon, but as you heard, they are not the brightest bunch.

“It’s a very last minute ceremony- my mother is ill and she wants to see her ‘baby’ get married before she goes. We wanted to wait another year to plan, but oh you know how it goes!”

Walby looks at you sheepishly as you blink a few more times and let his words sink in. You look at the man and try not to throw up from sitting upright. You must have been out for a while, but not in a “oh that was a wonderful beauty nap” kind of way. You are pretty sure you have a decent amount of blood caked to the side of your head and neck right now.

“Oh, well in that case,” you offer a good natured smile, “I’ll consider this the most unique wedding invitation I’ve ever received and one I may not even have the privilege of remembering.”

The man laughs heartily as you stand up and brush your clothing off. You’re glad you wore a nicer outfit today and decided to bring your violin along- Oghma must have wanted to make sure you were prepared.

“I also wanted to ask a favor,” he says meekly, “if I haven’t fallen out of your good graces before I even stepped foot in them- that is.”

You smile and just roll your eyes.

“Consider it water under the bridge. How can I be of service?”

“Well, you see- we had asked an acquaintance of ours to play music and uh. There’s no easy way to put this, but he was run over by a herd of Deep Rothé.”

“Hmm,” you say with a snort, “tough crowd- Deep Rothés.”

Ultimately, you agreed to perform for the ceremony and the little dinner party afterwards. Your music decorated the air with golds and silvers. Barcus was thrilled to have you there and thanked you immensely for allowing his mother-in-law to “witness true magic” before she leaves this plane.

By the time you were finally leaving- you hear two very familiar voices scream your name and come barreling towards you.

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

Astarion and Gale are practically sprinting as they try to track your location through the streets of Baldur’s Gate. They had just found a large spot of your blood sticking to the cobblestone and leading to the sewer. Astarion feels sick when he notices the path leads back into the Crimson Palace. Thankfully it was through the sewer and straight to the tunnel of the Underdark.

He had sent you a letter a few days ago and he had confessed his feelings. Instead of waiting for you to respond like a sane person, Astarion got the hell out of the inn he was staying at and began the four day trek to Baldur’s Gate. The nice part about traveling alone and not needing to breath is that Astarion could run from place to place if he was in a hurry or was just fed up with traveling already.

Astarion quickly learned that it was boring to be alone and it’s far more fun to share adventures with you. He also learned that he might be a semi-decent person on his own because, in spite of being without your physical presence, he continues to fucking help people. Astarion is really over this whole moral compass thing (it only extends so far though, he’s still a proud Bastard at heart).

When he arrived at your home about an hour and a half ago, Gale had informed him that you had gone out to the Market and was confused when Astarion said his letter shouldn’t have arrived yet. It took longer than usual to write for… reasons.

Gale showed him the note you received and the two of them pieced together that someone had definitely set up a trap- just not a very good one. Astarion pinched the bridge of his nose when Gale told him that you definitely figured out the letter wasn’t from him, but Gale encouraged you to respond anyway.

A part of him is incredibly worried that some of the remaining Bhaal cultists have taken you since they are the only people he could think of that would be able to mimic his form. His stomach still turns when he thinks about the time they realized Orin had taken you. This is giving him the same queasy feeling.

So imagine his and Gale’s surprise when you are walking away from some random spot seemingly unscathed. Except Astarion won’t believe that until he has inspected you for injuries himself.

You look positively shell-shocked to see him and even more surprised when he’s taking your face gently in his hands and begins to check for injuries.

“Are you alright, Darling?” He says in a far more panicked voice than he means to, “we found blood- I thought the worst and your idiot brother! Of course that letter wasn’t from me! I have class, my Dear! I would never use that paper and WHY IN THE HELLS WOULD YOU FOLLOW ME OF ALL PEOPLE!?”

He knows his ‘rage’ doesn’t sound like rage- it sounds like a man who thought his only love had been on the brink of death only moments ago. Astarion is trying to keep a serious face, but the adoration and love in your eyes when you look at him is making him want to dissolve. He’s thrilled to see that after a whole year of not being together that your feelings haven’t waivered. Neither have his, obviously, but that’s why he’s here.

“I will say, Tav,” Gale says with exasperation, “you even gave Tara a fright- you should be expecting a very long lecture when we get home.”

“Oh I’m sure I will,” you say with a beaming smile, your eyes never leaving Astarion’s, “but I do have quite the story if you would like to hear it?”

Astarion’s grin stretches across his entire face.

“I think a good story, better company, and some wine would make for a fine evening, my Dear.”

“Gross!” Gale says, “but I’ll tag along for some wine.”

Oh dammit.

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

If Astarion wasn’t so busy feasting upon you- then he probably would have already hunted down those stupid Gnomes that gave him a fright and found a windmill to fling them from. Gale had left only 15 minutes ago, but Astarion had made quick work in getting you up to his room and having his way with you.

The minute Gale left, the conversation became flirty and teasing- all the want that has been pooling in his body is finally getting the release it needs. You, like always, are a sight to behold.

Your back arches when his tongue drags along your clit and Astarion pushes your hips down into the mattress as your arousal paints his lips. Your moans and desperate cries of pleasure are so delicious and his cock is painfully hard, straining against his leather pants.. He is fighting between taking his time and being selfish- chasing his own pleasure inside of you.

The moment you clench around his fingers is the same moment he unlaces his own pants and begins to remove them. You keen and whine underneath him- Astarion’s name sounds the best coming from you in this state.

Astarion should be a gentleman, hypothetically, and maybe give you a half a second to be a little less dazed from your orgasm. Except Astarion isn’t a gentleman and he isn’t patient- at all.

Astarion lifts your hips up to his until the head of his cock is aligned with your entrance and he thrusts himself inside of you. You immediately wrap your legs around his hips with a yelp of pleasure and your eyes flutter wildly as you take his whole length. Astarion smiles down at you as he slowly rocks in and out of you.

Your fingers find their way to his hair and you pull Astarion’s face down to yours- stunning him with a mind numbing kiss. He snaps his hips at the sensation and the moan you let out causes whatever resolve he had to break. Astarion releases the hold you have on his lips and kisses along your jaw up to your ear.

“Did you like that, my Love?”

You hum in approval and try to pull his mouth back to yours. He interrupts you by thrusting into you two more times with more power than the first one.

“Asta-,,” you attempt to say his name between thrusts, “Astarion please.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Pet,” he teases, “I don’t even know if I know what you like anymore- maybe you don’t even like thi-“

Your legs tighten around his hips as he goes to pull completely out of you. Astarion quirks his eyebrow at you with a smirk as you look at him with desperation.

“I more than liked it- I loved it,” you whisper with your cheeks burning from your shyness.

Oh and how Astarion loves your shyness. His hands fist the sheets as he starts his agonizingly slow rhythm inside of you again- whimpers falling from deep within your chest.

“See, Darling,” Astarion says as his face falls into the crook of your neck, “that wasn’t so difficult, now was it?”

He doesn’t even give you a chance to respond before Astarion’s hips begin to pick up speed and his mouth covers yours. As much as he loves to hear you moan- he doesn’t care to share that experience with any of the patrons that had been obviously checking you out while you were catching up.

Astarion groans against your lips as he continues to fuck you relentlessly- his fangs nip at your lower lip and lap at the tiny droplets of blood that seep from the punctures.

You are a mess underneath him and you feel incredible in every way possible. Astarion never wanted this to stop in the first place- back when he had told you his feelings and you said it would be best to be friends for the time being.

Perhaps that’s what causes him to slow down and kiss you deeply- making up for the lack of speed with more force. One of his hands trails along your chest and begins to tease your sensitive nipples- your walls clench around him hard when he begins to pinch and roll the right one and your orgasm coats him as he moves to play with the left.

You kiss him sloppily and he’s lazily thrusting into you- his own Little Death following yours within seconds. Astarion collapses on top of you as he begins to soften inside of you. The smell of you and him mixed together is intoxicating and your heartbeat is hammering from the pleasure- your eyes glassy and tired with bliss. He laughs breathily before placing a kiss on your swollen lips.

Astarion lifts you up ever so slightly so that he can pull the blanket down and over you, then he adjusts himself and you so that you are curled up with your ear pressed against his chest. He strokes your hair absentmindedly and you lightly draw shapes on his chest.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” you say sleepily, “I’ve missed you so much.”

I’ve missed you too, Darling,” Astarion says while pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I’m happy to be home.”

“Oh I’m sure Baldur’s Gate is-“

“You are my home,” Astarion interrupts you, “I’ve come to realize that wherever you are is where I want to be.”

You look up at him with tears in your eyes and happiness in your heart.

“But what about exploring your new life and all of that jazz?”

“Darling, I wouldn’t have a life if it weren’t for you,” Astarion states, “you helped me kill Cazador and break the cycle of ongoing abuse. You gave me life so I could live it and I want to live it with you. I’m tired of pretending I’m okay with just being friends and holding back my feelings. I want to share my life with you.

“I know this may all seem very fast, but” Astarion grabs his pants off the ground and he feels his stomach turn as he pulls the box out of his pocket, “I know I love you- that’s probably the only thing I’ve ever been sure of in my entire 239 years of existence. I- I wanted to know if you would… marry me?”

Your lips are on his within seconds and the two of you become entangled in soft kisses until you have to pull back for air. You lean your forehead against his and meet his gaze.

“I love you so much, Astarion. Yes- yes I will marry you,” you say tearfully, “I want to share my life with you too.”

[peachhcs]

how do i get the girl back?

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will blurb)

after coming home from the combine, will confides in his mom and older sister about the breakup + getting samy back.

1.2k words

hiii this blurb was cutie to write since i don't write a lot about will's family. again, if you want smaller blurbs of the new breakup timeline let me know!! :))

au masterlist

with will’s back to the back door, he didn’t see or hear his sister trailing out behind him. her footsteps were always too soft for the boy to hear so that’s why she always scared him whenever she came up behind him. 

“i feel like i’m getting deja vu finding you out here,” grace said, making will jump hearing her voice. the boy spun around, his older sister standing a few feet away from the step he was sitting on. 

a tiny frown fell across his lips, “is that a bad or good thing?” 

“well, the last time i found you out here, you and samy just broke up,” grace hummed, but not in a way like she was trying to mock her brother, she was just simply stating it. 

when will didn’t respond grace found a spot on the step next to him. the siblings didn’t say anything at first, just enjoying the comfortable silence they sat in because sometimes it was rare being alone together and not playfully bickering about something. 

“you’ve been kind of sparse since you got back,” the older blonde said, her eyes on their yard. 

“oh, sorry. i don’t really mean to be,” will shrugged some. his little panic attack of realization he had last week was still fresh in the boy’s mind and he actually couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

“wanna talk about it at all?” grace wondered, knowing there was something on her little brother’s mind that kept him from being around much. 

“you’re gonna call me an idiot,” the boy mumbled, looking away. 

“no, i won’t. i promise,” grace shook her head. sure, her brother has made terrible decisions, but she still loved him above everything and wasn’t gonna call him stupid. 

“last week..i told myself i was gonna try and forget about samy. i met this girl and i tried talking to her until i had the very hard realization that i was just pretending she was samy in my mind and i found myself still talking about her even when i wasn’t trying to,” will explained. 

grace watched her brother’s head fall into his arms, hiding his facial expressions from her. she’s never seen him like this before—so sad and vulnerable. he was always the tough one and she was usually the one ranting to him about all the terrible guys she’s been on dates with. this was new and a bit unfamiliar territory for the older girl. 

“so what does this mean?” she wondered gently. 

“i think it means i fucked up, but i don’t know how to get her back,” the younger blonde admitted in a muffle through his arms. 

the older smith sibling sat there for a moment, conjuring up a proper response in her head. “what made you wanna breakup with her in the first place then?” 

“a mix of bad decisions and my own insecurities,” now that was a surprising one. if grace could describe her brother, she’d definitely tell people he was sometimes very arrogant with a little too much confidence, so hearing her brother say himself that he had insecurities made the girl question everything she’s known. 

“you’re insecure? about what?” 

“a lot of things and it got into my head too much where i thought i wouldn’t be good enough for samy being so far away. i started overthinking how she’d find someone new who was way better than me and dump me for him, so i figured i’d save myself the trouble..” the younger boy explained a bit weakly. 

“oh, will..” grace sighed. “you know that’s not true, right? you know samy doesn’t think that. you are good enough for her. actually, you’re perfect for her,” watching the two grow up, grace’s seen their relationship change and develop through the years. 

her brother had a hard outer shell, so seeing someone completely crack it open was somewhat of a miracle. she’s never seen her brother so happy before whenever samy was around and she saw the big smile will brought to samy’s lips too. 

“yeah, i get that now, grace,” will mumbled. 

“you’re not an idiot, will. i promise. you made a rash decision, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be fixed,” she reached out to touch his arm where he finally found her gaze again. 

“i wouldn’t be too sure about that. she doesn’t ever wanna talk to me again,” the boy sighed. 

before grace could answer, the back door opened again. this time colleen came out searching for her two kids, surprised to find them together on the back steps. 

“there you two are. i’ve been looking for you guys,” the older woman smiled, but it faded seeing the gloomy looks. “what’s wrong? you guys look sad.” 

will hadn’t really talked to his parents about the breakup and this was grace’s first time getting him to open up about it more since it happened. the boy’s gaze slid to his sisters where she gently nodded, telling him to tell her. 

“how do i fix a really bad mistake i made?” will squeaked out. 

“what do you mean, honey?” colleen drew closer to her kids. 

“how do i get back the girl i love?” the mom finally understood what her son was trying to say. she frowned even more when will’s teary eyes returned and she took that as her sign to wrap her arms around him in a tight hold. 

“oh, baby, it’s gonna be okay. i promise,” colleen cooed into wil’s ear as if he was five years old again. 

“i’m such an idiot, mom. i don’t know how to make any of this better or attempt to fix it,” will cried a bit. 

“you’re not an idiot, will. i’ll say that first. you had a lot on your mind and i get that. i’m not excusing your behavior towards her, but i understand the pressure of everything. you really love her and want her back?” 

the younger blonde nodded, “i really do.” 

“it’s not gonna be easy. you broke her trust, so you’re gonna have to earn that back and be okay with the fact of her being stand-offish at first whenever you do start talking again. i don’t think it would be a bad idea to reach out to her though. try talking to her before our family vacation coming up? she will be there, you know,” colleen suggested. she’s heard the story from samy’s side from ellen and from the looks of it, it just seemed like the two needed some space to cool off before trying to talk again. 

“i don’t even know what i would say to her if i did reach out. i have no way of doing so anyway,” the younger blonde shrugged. 

“why don’t you sleep on it. is ryan around or something? you two could go hang out to get your mind off of it for awhile,” mrs. smith said and grace nodded in agreement. 

“yeah, i guess so,” will dug through his pocket for his phone. 

“it won’t feel like this forever, willie. it’s gonna work out, i promise,” grace squeezed her younger brother’s arm. he managed a weak smile in her direction, but he had a hard time believing his mom and sister’s words. 

the history him and samy had didn’t mean that would be the magic fix to everything. he’ll be lucky if he can even get her to talk to him again. 

[loverslantern]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: Sam is abducted by a family of cannibalistic hillbillies while he, Dean, and reader are investigating several decades' worth of missing people.

Warnings: Cannon violence, talk of kidnapping and crime, cannibals, cursing, detailed blood talk, again all cannon violence and so forth. Dean and reader bickering like friends or idiots in love you decide 😊

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 , @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn , @crazyunsexycool , @onlyangel-444 , @seninjakitey , @mystic-mara , @mxltifxndom , @stilesxreid , @chaotic-luvrs , @tiggytaylor

Word Count: 10,711

The Benders

(Masterlist, Previous Ch, Next Ch)

“I know you’re just doing your job, but the police have been here all week already. I don’t see why we have to go through this again. The more he tells the story, the more he believes it’s true,” Mrs.McKay points out, positioning herself closer to her son. Even in the dark living room, the curtains closed to block the bright sun, they looked alike, with similar big brown eyes and dark brown hair.

“Mrs.McKay, we know you spoke with the local authorities,” Sam acknowledges, looking quite intimidating in his Sheriff get-up, the large brown jacket adding to it all. I’m glad I don’t have to be stuffed into those jackets, they don’t look super comfortable or flexible, and having to wear a khaki button-down was restricting enough. Somehow button-downs always wind up being tight for me in the chest area, this time no different. “But, uh, this seems like a matter for the state police, so….” Dean adds.

“It’s okay if it sounds crazy, we’d rather get the full story,” I finish. The young boy looks at his mother for approval before answering, “I was up late, watching TV. When I heard this weird noise.”

“What did it sound like?” Sam asks.

“It sounded like…” he hesitates for a moment, either scared or worried we won’t believe him, “a monster.” His mother rolls her eyes and purses her lips, crossing her arms across her chest she says, “Tell the officers what you were watching on TV.”

“Godzilla Vs. Mothra,” Evan answers. A wide, beaming smile places itself on Dean’s face, “That’s my favorite Godzilla movie,” he excitedly tells the kid, “It’s so much better than the original, huh?” He’s so cute when he gets all excited like this.

“Totally,” Evan nods, his eyes wide in that sweet childish way. “Yeah,” Dean nods to Sam, “He likes the remake.” A small laugh escapes my lips, of course he would take any chance he could get to poke fun at his brother. “Yuck!” Evan exclaims, causing me to laugh more. Sam glares at his brother, clearing his voice he gets us back on track, “Evan, did you see what this thing was?”

“No. But I saw it grab Mr.Jenkins. It pulled him underneath the car,” he answers, looking a little scared again. “Then what?” Sam pushes.

“It took him away. I heard the monster leaving. It made this really scary sound.”

“What did it sound like?” I ask carefully.

“Like this…whining growl,” he answers and I make a mental note.

Sam nods, “Thanks for your time.”

I sip my Shirly Temple, a perfect mix of cherry syrup and soda. Meanwhile, Sam sips a beer before me, and Dean plays darts just behind me. Surprisingly he didn’t really touch his beer, I figured by now he would be on his second, but no he was just a little more than halfway done with his first. I wonder if it has to do with our conversation the other day, not that I didn’t trust him when he drank. I hope he knew that. I just didn’t like drinking, and bars weren’t my favorite place but as long as I was with others then I was fine.

I push my hair behind my ears and with it push those thoughts out of my head, “Okay, so, local police haven’t ruled out foul play because there were signs of a struggle,” I inform, looking down at the research papers that Sam had circling him.

“Well, they could be right, it could just be a kidnapping. Maybe this isn’t our kind of gig,” Dean says, another dart swooshing past.

“Yeah, maybe not. Except for this–” Sam points out, rearranging the papers so that he could push his Dad's journal closer to me and subsequently Dean, “Dad marked this area.” Dean looms closer, standing right behind my chair with his hands on the back of it; his hands dangerously close to my exposed arms or more specifically, shoulders. It isn’t a big deal I remind myself, it was perfectly normal in fact. I took off my cardigan because it had gotten warm in here so naturally with the short-sleeved dress I was wearing my arms were exposed.

He leans forward slightly, peering at the book from above my head, his body heat radiating around me. “Possible hunting grounds of a phantom attacker,” Sam continues.

“Why would he even do that?” Dean asks.

“Well, he found a lot of local folklore about a dark figure that comes at night,” Sam explains, “Grabs people, then vanishes. He found this too–” he turns to a different page, “this county has more missing persons per capita than anywhere else in the state.”

“Alright, that’s weird. But if that’s the case how aren’t there more leads on any of these especially if there’s a pattern?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Sam answers truthfully.

“Don’t phantom attackers usually snatch people from their beds? Jenkins was taken from a parking lot,” Dean points out.

“Well, there are all kinds. You know, Spring Heeled Jacks, Phantom Gassers,” Sam reminds, “They take people anywhere, anytime. Look, I don’t know if this is our kind of gig either.”

“Yeah, you’re right, we should ask around more tomorrow,” Dean plans.

“Right,” Sam says as he pulls out his brown leather wallet, “I saw a motel about five miles back.”

“Whoa, whoa, easy,” Dean says, holding his hands up, “Let’s have another round.”

“We should get an early start,” Sam counters, placing a twenty on the table.

“You’re very responsible,” I point out.

“Someone has to be,” he smirks, sassy as always.

“Yeah, you really know how to have fun, don’t you, Grandma?” Dean remarks. I turn around in my seat to peer up at Dean, he meets my eyes looking down at me, “I’m pretty sure you could still have fun at a motel,” I say, confused. I mean motels were fun, sort of, as long as there were no bed bugs and it was like a game of ‘how poorly designed will this be!’ Dean cocks an eyebrow, a devilish smile on his face, “‘That so?” he eyes me, teasing me.

The implications of my sentence hit me…I laugh nervously, “No...I mean…cause, like, I didn’t me…I mean–” I stammer but his smile only widens. I whip my head towards Sam for help but he’s also smiling, “You’re on your own with this one,” he shrugs. I turn back, slowly, to Dean to find him still staring, “You know what I meant” I say.

“Do I?” he counters. My face feels all warm, I hear Sam’s chair move and the collecting of papers. He was leaving me! My nervous laughter continues as I try to come up with something but it’s broken letters that leave my mouth instead, I stand up abruptly, tugging down the skirt of my dress as I do so, “I’m gonna go…”

He removes his hands from my chair, and I grab my cardigan, throwing the soft material on. I meet his gaze again but this time he’s just smiling softly. “Wait for me, sweetheart, gotta take a leak,” he says, finished with his teasing. “Ok,” I answer, and he heads to the back of the bar. If I hadn’t embarrassed myself I would have commented on his gross choice of words, but I did so instead I down the rest of my sweet drink.

Hardly two minutes later Dean is back, he throws his jacket on and swings an arm around my shoulder pulling me into his side as we head to the front, “So, about that motel…” he tries to continue his teasing.

“Dean!” I groan, “Stop, alright I get it was funny, whatever, it’s over now.” He laughs, swinging open the door for me. I roll my eyes, he was never going to let this down.

The chill Minnesota air cools down my warm cheeks as I exit the bar, Dean following behind, “No, no, I think you were on to something, sweetheart,” he muses and I can hear that stupid smile on his face. I turn around swiftly, facing him, “I am going to beat you up,” I threaten despite the smile on my face. His stupid, cute, smile drops all of a sudden, his eyes somewhere over my shoulder. I frown, “What?”

He doesn’t answer, his eyes focused behind me, he moves around me and I spin around immediately noticing the cause of his changed demeanor. There’s no Sam. He’s not by the car at all, and if he went back into the bar we would have seen him. I follow Dean to the Impala, my tall boots clicking against the asphalt, he picks up something from the roof holding up his Dad’s journal which Sam had in his possession when he left. That’s not good.

I pull my phone out of my cardigan pocket, immediately scrolling down to Sam’s contact. Dean opens the car door, peering inside before shutting it and shaking his head. I click call, waiting impatiently with the phone to my ear, it rings a couple of times before going to voicemail. “Frick,” I redial his number and this time it goes straight to voicemail, was it shut off? Why would he shut it off?

I shake my head at Dean, this was bad.

Dean moves away from the car asking a drunk couple by the bar, but they have no answer. I call his phone again as if this time would be different, but it isn’t.

“Sam!” Dean suddenly yells, frantically calling for his brother. “Sammy!”

“So, what can we do for you, Officer Washington and Officer Greene?,” Deputy Kathleen asks, looking at our fake IDs. She didn’t seem so amused as she looked at us with those piercing grey eyes. “We’re working a missing persons,” Dean answers, worry still etched on his face.

“I didn’t know the Jenkins case was being covered by the state police,” she acknowledges, perhaps growing suspicious.

“No, we’re here about another missing person. ‘Could be related though,” I reply. Dean adding, “It’s my cousin. We were havin’ a few drinks last night at this bar down by the highway. And I haven’t seen him since.”

“Does your cousin have a drinking problem?” she asks logically.

“Sam?” he scoffs, “Two beers and he’s doin’ karaoke.”

“He wasn’t drunk. And the time frame in which he was left alone was far too short for any wanderin’ off, if by chance he was intoxicated more than my partner here witnessed,” I inform, adding on. Dean looks at me with a little surprise, as if I wasn't capable of being serious and professional which was stupid because I knew more about criminology than he did and as of right now we had to look at this in that frame of light. Kathleen nods, moving to her computer and turning it halfway so that we could see too, “Alright. What’s his name?”

“Winchester. Sam Winchester,” Dean answers.

“Like the rifle?” she asks somewhere between skepticism and amusement. “Like the rifle,” he confirms.

She types away, pulling up his police record, and she scans the file before clicking on Dean’s file (thank god there were no pictures with it). “Samuel Winchester, so, you know that his brother, Dean Winchester, died in St. Louis. And, uh, was suspected of murder.”

Memories of that hunt creep into the back of my mind. The slimy remains of its shedding, his hands on my neck, losing my abilities to iron…Dean’s awkward laugh knocks me out of my thoughts, “Yeah, Dean. Kind of the black sheep of the family…Handsome, though.” I try hard not to throw a look at him, even now he still has to be cocky. “Uh-huh,” she hums, not amused. She types something else in, bringing up more results on the computer, “Well, he’s not showing up in any current field reports.”

“Oh, I already have a lead. I saw a surveillance camera by the highway,” Dean informs.

“Uh-huh, she hums, “The county traffic cam?”

“Right. Yeah. I’m thinking the camera picked up whatever took him…or, whoever” he corrects with a smile.

“Well, I have access to the traffic cam footage down at the county works department, but—well, anyhow, let’s do this the right way,” she goes to a filing cabinet and pulls out some paperwork, “Why don’t you fill out a missing persons report and sit tight over here,” she hands Dean a clipboard. “Officer, look, uh, he’s family. I kind of–I kind of look out for the kid. You gotta let us go with you,” he reasons.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that,” she answers.

“Sam’s my responsibility. And he’s comin’ back. I’m bringin’ him back,” he says again, this time more demanding than pleading. But she shakes her head, “I’m sorry” she repeats moving away from us.

“The first 72 hours of a missing person's case is the most important!” I call out and she stops in her tracks, “We know Sam didn’t just run off, so we can eliminate the statistic that in 48 hours he will show up,” but still she doesn’t turn. “In this case, 72 hours would be lucky, you know considering the fact this county has had no leads and has yet to find a single person related to the serial kidnapping going on,” she turns and stares at me with a frown.

“So for all of our sakes and our jobs, let’s say a safe 48,” I continue, “I’m sure you’re well aware that the second you go over that time the chances of you finding the person, let alone alive, is extraordinarily low. It is currently,” I look at the clock on the wall, “9:36 am,” I meet her eyes again, “So in less than 30 minutes we will be down 13 hours. Now I don’t think I have to do the math for you to understand how badly you are screwed,” I challenge, “Now, how long do you think you have before the feds get involved? ‘Cause I’m sure that will look just great for you.” I know I’m being harsh but I’m also being entirely serious.

She sighs, nodding, “Okay.”

Dean picks at his nailbeds as we wait on a bench across the street from the County’s Work Department. The bright sun shines down on us making his dirty blonde hair glow. I place a hand over his, he needs to break this habit, “We’ll find him,” I say softly. He shakes his head, “You said it yourself, every minute that goes by the chances of finding him–”

“But we’ll find him,” I cut him off. Maybe being positive about this wasn’t the most logical thing, we don’t know how big of a lead we have yet and if it’s nothing then we really are screwed. I know the odds are not in our favor, but to remind him of that wouldn’t help either.

“Greg, Kayla,” Kathleen says from behind, using our fake first names. We turn to her, getting up from the bench we were waiting on, “I think we’ve got something,” she hands us printouts of traffic cameras. “These traffic cameras take an image every three seconds. As part of the Amber Alert program,” she explains, “These images were all taken around the time that your cousin, Sam, disappeared.” But it's just images of a dark road with no one on it but the soft light of street lamps illuminating the pavement.

“This really isn’t what we’re looking for,” Dean voices.

“Just wait, wait—next one,” she insists. He turns to the next image, tilting it to show me the image of a rusty run-down truck driving down the road, “This one was taken right after Sam left the bar. Look at the back end of that thing. Now, look at the plates.” He turns the page again, this time the image is a close-up of the back of the truck or more specifically the not rusty or old license plate. “Oh, the plates look new. It’s probably stolen,” Dean points out, confirming my thoughts.

“So, whoever’s driving that rust bucket must be involved,” she adds and I'm ever so glad this lead was something. Maybe we could let other officers know to be on the lookout for it.

Suddenly there’s the horrible noise of a loud grumbling and whining engine passing by, I cringe at the screeching noise, looking up to find a beat-up van stopped at a red light. “Hear that engine?” Dean asks.

“Unfortunately,” I mumble, trying to resist the urge to cover my ears. He looks at me, meeting my eyes, “Kind of a whining growl, isn’t it?”

My lips part. He was right. He didn’t need to say any more for me to understand exactly what he meant, it’s what Evan heard. And if we assume that the rusty truck on the cameras is involved, they might even make a similar noise considering they're just about the same on the beat-up level.

The squad car rolls down the highway, Kathleen in the driver's seat pointing to a passing traffic camera, “Okay, the next traffic cam is fifty miles from here, and the pickup didn’t pass that one, so…”

“So, it must’ve pulled off somewhere,” Dean finishes her sentence, adding, “I didn’t see any other roads here.”

“Well, a lot of these backwoods properties have their own private roads,” Kathleen points out. I sigh, “That’s not very helpful,” now we have to figure out how to narrow it down with no other information. Dean grumbles something, looking out his window while I keep my eyes trained out the windshield trying to think of our next move.

Kathleen clicks something on the little tablet on a stand, in the corner of my eye I see her look at us strangely. I drop my eyes to the tablet, picking up on enough words to know it was trouble for us, I unbuckle myself swiftly, thanking my past self for choosing to sit in the middle and that this was a squad car meaning there wasn't the gate between the back and front. I lean forward my hips hitting the end of the center console as I practically weasel myself between the passenger and driver seats, my hands flat on the front of the console. My hair curtains my face but even so I can feel both their gaze on me, just like I wanted.

I don't know how much she was able to read the document but it doesn’t matter now as I carefully lift my pointer finger, hands still flat on the console, towards the tablet letting just a little spark of energy leave my finger and interfere with its programming. I push my hair out of my face, her eyes drop to my chest which was practically pushed out and perfectly visible in this position, I laugh lightly, “Sorry, I thought I saw something.”

I lean back, sitting on the edge of my seat putting my arms on the end of the console near me but close enough that it frames my boobs perfectly. Her eyes had been following my movement back through the rearview mirror, even girls were guilty of staring. Her eyes finally drag up to my face and I smile sweetly at her in the mirror, tilting my head a little for extra measure, her eyes drop down again before she blinks looking away from the mirror. She blinks again shaking her head as if it would shake the image away, “Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to pull but I ran your badge numbers. It’s routine when we’re working a case with state police. For accounting purposes and what have you.”

I curse internally, so much for a distraction. “And, um,” she continues, her eyes dropping to my chest just one more time, “uh, they just got back to me,” she pulls the car over to the side of the road, “It says here both of your badges were stolen. And there’s a picture of you both,” she turns the tablet. Dean looks at her shocked before dropping his eyes to the screen, his face falls with confusion as we both stare at the same thing, “It’s blank,” he points out and I have to hold back a smile at my work. She turns the tablet towards her, confused, she hits the thing and of course it doesn’t make a difference. “Well it was a picture of a heavier African American male and a (different ethnicity than you) female,” she explains instead.

“I lost some weight,” Dean chuckles awkwardly, “And I got that Michael Jackson skin disease.”

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose, did he really think that was going to work?! Kathleen takes off her seatbelt, “Okay, would you both step out of the car, please?”

“Look, look, look,” Dean spews quickly halting her movement, “If you wanna arrest us, that’s fine. We’ll cooperate. But, first, please—let me find Sam.”

“I don’t even know who either of you are. Or if this Sam person is missing,” she counters.

“Look into my eyes and tell me if I’m lying about this,” he reasons. But she scoffs, “Identity theft? You’re impersonating officers.”

“How much do you care for your people? Those who live in the county?” I ask her. She doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look at me. “You can bring us in now, sure, but there’s still someone out there kidnapping and likely murdering people. And we are your best chance of finding them, we got you this far.” She purses her lips, shaking her head firmly.

“Look, here’s the thing,” Dean tries, “When we were young, I pretty much pulled him from a fire. And ever since then, I’ve felt responsible for him. Like it’s my job to keep him safe. I’m just afraid if we don’t find him fast—please,” his voice breaks, “He’s my family.” He was putting it all out there, he wasn’t the emotional type let alone with a new person like this, but he was more than worried

“I’m sorry. I have to take you in,” she says her gaze elsewhere. But then she frowns, sighing, her shoulders dropping in defeat, “After we find Sam Winchester.” She fastens her seatbelt and Dean looks at me confused but I just shrug, maybe it was better if we didn’t question it.

Despite Kathleen's clear distrust for us, she did suggest stopping for coffee before continuing our search. I cradle my to-go cup between my palms, the sun perfectly warm on my skin and the wind in perfect time with a cool breeze now and then. “Hey, Officer? Look, I don’t mean to press our luck,” Dean starts.

“Your luck is so pressed,” she retorts and her remark makes me laugh. She throws me a sharp glare and my smile drops, burring my face behind my cup as I take a sip.

“Right. I was wondering…why are you helping us out, anyway?” Dean asks, “Why don’t just lock us up”

Kathleen frowns, rounding the car as she answers, “My brother, Riley, disappeared three years ago. A lot like Sam. We searched for him, but…” she sighs, “nothing…I know what it’s like to feel responsible for someone.” The memories seem to flash in her pupils, her gray eyes hardening again. It was like seeing her in a different light, I think in the rush of this hunt we, or rather I, forgot that she was more than her badge she had her pains and losses like us. I make a mental note to apologize later for my previous harshness, I know I could’ve been kinder and that’s true with or without this newfound information.

“Come on,” she beckons, opening the driver's door, “Let’s keep at it.”

****

We drive close to the edge of the forest on the lookout for private roads, but tree after tall tree there is nothing. “Wait, wait, wait,” Dean suddenly says, “pull over here. Pull over.” And despite Kathleen's questioning gaze, she abides, pulling the car over and onto the soft grass beyond the shoulder.

We get out of the car, getting closer to the tree line. “You guys stay here, I’ll check it out,” Kathleen commands leading us into the forest.

“No way,” Dean scuffs.

“Seriously,” I reason, “You have no idea what you're walking into, you could use our help.” I mean did she really want to walk in alone?

“Hey,” she stops before us, preventing us from going further, “You’re civilians. And felons…I think. I’m not taking you with me.”

“You’re not goin’ without us,” Dean answers firmly. She stares at us as if to see how serious we are when finally she sighs, annoyed, “Alright. ‘You promise you won’t get involved? You’ll let me handle it?”

“Yeah, I promise,” Dean half shrugs. I nod, “Promise.”

“Shake on it,” she challenges, extending her hand. Dean and I raise our hands for a shake, but jokes on her for a promise to be serious you need to pinkie promise. She raises her other hand to extend to mine at the same time. She's firm with it when cold metal clinks against my wrist immediately followed by another clink against Dean’s. We’re cuffed to each other. I stare at our cuffed hands confused, the joke was supposed to be on her, not on us. And it certainly was on us. “Oh, come on,” Dean grumbles.

Holding on to the links between each cuff, she dragged us back to the car; no amount of dragging my feet was helping. She uncuffs me twisting both my hands behind my back, holding firmly with one hand as she puts the other cuff through the door handle pulling it back up and on my wrist; leaving Dean and I both trapped to the door handle. It was hard to be totally mad when it was quite clever. Now satisfied with her work, she walks back into the forest, “This is ridiculous. Kathleen, I really think you’re gonna need our help,” Dean calls after her.

She lifts a hand, beeping the car locked as she throws back a, “I’ll manage thank you.” I watch her leave until I can no longer see her past the tree line, I still can’t believe she tricked us. “That was an interesting show you put on before,” Dean says, leaning against the car door, apparently not too concerned about our current position. “What do you mean?” I ask, meeting his eyes.

“What do I mean?” he mocks, “Oh I don’t know maybe the,” he places his free hand below his chest lifting an invisible boob, “‘I thought I saw something’” he says in a girlish voice. I give him a pointed look and with my free hand I hit his chest, he drops his hand laughing. “One, I did not sound like that! Two, I was not doing that, and three! I was tryna save us, she had pulled up incriminating evidence and I figured I could distract her enough to buy us time.”

“Well she still got us,” he points out, green eyes dropping to our cuffed wrists.

“Yeah I know, it was more of an in-the-moment thing and it worked better in my head,” I reason.

“You got the distracting part right though,” he responds, his voice slightly lower. Maybe it was the stupid bickering or the fact he had teased me last night that brought up enough confidence to ask, “Are you insinuating you were looking too?”

His eyes snap up to me his cheeks looking warm, “What?! No, no, I wouldn’t…I–no.”

I smirk though my cheeks burn hotter than the sun and my heart is rapid against my ribcage, I open my mouth to say something clever when I hear the screeching of tires, “Never mind that” I say quietly instead. With my free hand, I hold the cuffs using very little energy to unlock them. I smile triumphantly, discarding the cuffs to the grass. “You’re lucky I don't just leave you here,” I point out.

He looks taken aback as he scuffs, “You wouldn’t.”

I purse my lips, “But I could’ve, I really could’ve.” He scuffs this time with more humor as he rolls his eyes, “Right. Let’s go.” He leads the way, walking quickly into the forested area.

We pass by wagon wheels strewn across the overgrown grass, followed by a rundown barn. Dean carefully opens the creaky barn door, exposing the dark inside to the shining sun. The barn reeks of sweat, and a combination of human and animal waste. The light creeps in behind us revealing at least four cages with thick metal bars, the cage wasn’t too wide and couldn’t have been more than three feet tall. Either way, it was solidifying the idea that this had to be the correct place because why would cages like these be in a rundown barn? And…there were figures inside said cages, very human figures. “Sam?” Dean calls out as we approach. Then they become more than dark figures, Sam smiles from his crouched-down position. “Are you hurt?” Dean asks even though he didn't look harmed, sweaty and dirty, yes, but not harmed.

“No,” Sam answers. Dean grins putting his hands on the bars, “Damn it's good to see you.” 

“How did you get out of the cuffs?” A now familiar voice asks. Dean and I seem to turn around at the same time, and I’m taken aback by Kathleen’s appearance. Her dark hair was down, cascading down her shoulders only making her blue eyes more entrancing, the khaki button down she wore as uniform was gone leaving her in a dirty white t-shirt, black splotches on it as well as some on her skin accompanied by a bloody bruise in the corner of her forehead. 

“Oh, she knows a trick or two,” Dean answers with a playful smile, “Speaking of which, you should do it again.”

I force a tight-lipped smile. “Right.”

I approach the door of the cage where Sam is held, the thick, heavy lock resting in my hands. The lock looks like it belongs in a medieval dungeon, its surface cold and unsettling. As I clutch it, an eerie emptiness spreads through me, a hollow sensation that chills me to the core. The memory of an iron bar around my neck flashes through my mind. I drop the lock as if it burned me, stumbling back. I rub my hands down the sides of my legs, trying to erase the lingering coldness. Gradually, the tightness in my chest eases, replaced by the familiar warmth of my abilities flowing through my veins. “What’s wrong?” Dean and Sam ask in unison, Dean’s hand suddenly gripping my upper arm.

“Iron,” I manage to get out around the cotton that seemed to fill my throat, eyes focusing on the barn floor. He curses under his breath before he steps in front of me, blocking me from the other's view. He squeezes my upper arm silently asking me to look at him, I meet his eyes the familiarity of him easing the leftover panic. “‘You okay?” he asks quietly enough for only us to hear. I nod and he doesn’t push me to confirm it verbally, he gives a quick nod in response and squeezes my arm once more before his hand drags down my arm before leaving altogether. Suddenly I miss his touch even though I know I shouldn’t. It’s a strange thing when your brain and heart want two different things. My mind pleads for logic, bringing an end to our casual touches to save my heart the grief. But then my heart wants nothing more to latch on to the feeling and exceed just a little more hope. He moves to the lock himself, studying it, “These are gonna be a bitch” 

“Well, there’s some kind of automatic control right there,” Sam points to a control panel on the other side of the barn. 

“Have you seen ‘em?” Dean asks.

“Yeah. Dude, they’re just people,” he answers voice dipped in disbelief. Our hunts rarely ended up being people; with something like this, they must be seriously messed up. “And they jumped you? Must be gettin’ a little rusty there, kiddo,” Dean remarks as he walks over to the control panel.

“I bet they’re rednecks, and that’s, like, an entirely different breed of human,” I comment.

“How do you know their rednecks?” Kathleen asks as if she’s still suspicious we’re in on this.

“I wouldn’t know anyone else who would keep captured people in a barn in the middle of nowhere, in cages no less. I feel like that has psychotic redneck all over it,” I explain like it’s obvious.

“What do they want?” Dean asks as he clicks different buttons on the panel.

“I don’t know,” Sam answers, “They let Jenkins go, but that was some sort of trap. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Well, that’s the point. You know, with our usual playmates, there’s rules, there’s patterns. But with people, they’re just crazy,” Dean points out.

“Well, there are certain patterns with humans too, especially criminals,” I explain, “They most likely get off on the thrill of the hunt. They let you go. Give you false hope, and get you running. But like you said it's a trap. You’re just prey to them, they might even have actual traps hidden around as extra measure though it doesn’t matter when they catch you anyway. It’s kind of a whole dehumanizing act too, cages and the hunting like you’re animals.”

All three pairs of eyes stare at me, “What? I thought that was evident,” I shrug defensively.

“...Anyways, ‘see anything else out there?” Sam asks.

Dean creeps open the other barn doors, different from where we came in from, “Uh, he has about a dozen junked cars hidden outback. ‘Plates from all over, so I’m thinkin’ when they take someone, they take their car, too.”

Kathleen scurries closer to the bars of her cage, hands clutching the bars, “Did you see a black Mustang out there? About ten years old?” She looks desperately at Dean. “Yeah, actually, I did,” he answers and she frowns, her chest depleting with hope, “Your brother?” he asks, taking a good guess. She nods, shoulders dropped, something passing in her eyes, “I’m sorry,” he apologies, “let’s get you guys out of here, then we’ll take care of those bastards,” he points to the control panel, “this thing takes a key.”

“Then please say one of you, by chance, happened to see the key,” I add.

“No, I don’t know,” Sam answers. I nod, “Right. That’s fun and awesome, we get to venture into the home of serial killers.” I turn on my heels, heading back the way we came, hearing Dean’s steps right behind me. “Hey,” Sam suddenly calls out. We stop, turning around, he adds, “Be careful.” 

My lips curve up into a half-smile, “We will!” I answer enthusiastically. “Yeah,” Dean responds in the only way he knows how. I don’t think he understands that people care and worry about him, especially when he sees himself as the protector I wish there was a way to help him unlearn that and if one already exists I want to know it.

****

I pull myself up, my hands holding firm to the window sill, we were lucky to find an open window. Scooting myself into the dark room, I turn back leaning out the window to take the flashlight from Dean. He lifts himself up and in with ease, taking the flashlight back from me. He flicks it on, scanning the room with the light, revealing shelf after shelf of specimen jars. I move closer to one of the jars, a severed hand with a star tattoo by its thumb floating in the alcohol. “You know what they say, people with tattoos taste bad,” I mumble.

“Who says that?” Dean whispers in disbelief.

“Cannibals,” I whisper back, “They say it makes the flesh taste all weird. They also say the hands are the worst to eat, ‘not a lot of meat there.”

“You think these guys are cannibals too?” He asks, flashlight shining over the various jars and bottles.

“I don’t know, maybe,” I shrug, if they weren’t then I wonder why they would keep only some body parts but get rid of the others. He nods slowly to the possibility, flashlight gliding over a wall of Polaroid pictures each with the same two boys with long noses, beards, and hats, standing beside a dead body. “I’ll say it again, demons I get. People are crazy,” Dean says pointing to a particular photo, one with them holding Jenkin's corpse. I wonder how late we were, maybe we could’ve saved him too.

Carefully I creep my way to the closed door, opening it slowly just a crack, I peek out viewing the hallway for anyone. I wait one, two, three beats before opening the door more, signaling to him that the coast was clear. I exit the room first, Dean close behind me, I motion towards the old wooden stairs in question and he nods taking the lead once more. He creeps up the stairs careful not to step on something that looks like it would creak, I follow behind walking on my tip-toes for extra measure. The stairs continue up one more level but we stick with the second floor. Reaching the landing we stepped into the living room, the room was grey and dark with no furniture around just a big empty room. I step deeper into the room, the wallpaper is peeling and the room smells like mildew. The only pleasant thing was a soft tune coming from a room nearby, instrumental but not quite classical, a hacking sound interrupting the melody every few seconds.

Suddenly something in the room clacks together, hitting each other repeatedly. I turn quickly to the noise, guard up. Dean moves away from the object he must have hit as he mutters, “What the–.” A windchime of bones hang from the ceiling down by the window, the bones were clean and white–clearly well taken care of, some bones slightly longer but they were mostly smaller bones. I watch as he brushes it off with a slight shiver before moving to a different part of the room picking up a miscellaneous plank of wood. He notices me staring and motions with his head to follow, he leads us to the next room close to the kitchen towards the hacking. We reach the archway and he peeks in before making a hand signal for me to stay where I am as he riskily moves to the other side of the archway.

Perhaps stupidly I take a quick peek before resuming my place flat against the wall, taking a moment to go over what I saw in the quick glimpse. An older man at a kitchen counter, his back to us, nothing reflective in front of him that's visible from this angle, cluttered room, windows bordered up, a bag of tools positioned behind him with at least a meat cleaver in it but guessing by the shape there were more objects- maybe more knives, the meat he was working on wasn’t visible but the likelihood of it being human remained pretty high.

I look over at Dean, some jar full of teeth in his hand, his face scrunched in disgust. “What are you doing?!” I mouth. He puts the thing down on a little stand that stands across from him, and he opens his mouth to respond when the floor creaks behind him, he turns quickly and I try to see behind him with wide eyes but he’s too tall to see anything from this position. I look to the floor instead, trying to look for another pair of feet. I hear him say something softly with his hands raised, but from where I am I can’t hear. Between his own feet, I see small bare ones, perhaps belonging to that of a child.

Then before another beat passes the child says something and Dean is pushed up against the wall with a groan, a choked noise escaping him as he lifts a hand to his abdomen. The girl smiles wickedly, but before her lips can part, I launch myself at her, wrapping my arms around her from behind and pinning her arms to her sides. “DA–” she manages to get out before I clamp a hand over her mouth.

She thrashes against my grip, knocking me against the little table. Objects rattle behind me, but I hold firm. Dean pulls the knife out of his stomach as he slides down the wall, blood staining his shirt. I force the girl forward, her large matted hair obscuring my vision. She kicks wildly, nearly breaking my hold.

“Okay,” I breathe, “Okay, it’s alright, go to sleep.” I focus, letting my abilities surge, the familiar energy coursing through my veins. It flows down my arms into my fingertips that grip her. 

I reach into her mind, a violent sea of chaotic thoughts and emotions screaming back at me. Her fear and anger lash out like storm-driven waves. I step into it, the wind of internal screams and panic parting for me. I step in deeper, my steps gentle. I echo the words I said out loud to her, my voice soft like a lullaby once lost. The storms begin to quiet. Her physical struggles begin to slow as she subcomes to my soft insistent voice. Her thoughts slow, the waves turning to ripples until they are still. I creep out of her mind, gently lowering the unconscious child to the floor and leaning her against a nearby wall. It was the best I could without harming her and I would not harm a child.

Quick footsteps adjourn down the staircase. I reach Dean, kneeling in front of him, replacing his hands around the wound. He watches me carefully, quietly, eyebrows pinched together slightly. I know I must work quickly. With a breath, the purple glow of my powers seeped into the deep stab wound. Slowly the torn flesh and tissue knit back together, “You’re either gonna have to hurry sweetheart, or stop,” he warns. It was a deep wound and it would take longer than what we had, “But stopping would be stupid, and dangerous especially since you’ve already taken the knife out which you should never do ‘cause it only makes you bleed out more,” I answer quickly. I can practically feel the roll of his eyes without having to look. 

A floorboard creaks a foot away. I curse under my breath, reluctantly pulling away from Dean and standing up just as a hard hand grips my shoulder. I turn quickly, throwing a punch, my knuckles hitting a hard face. The man stumbles just slightly, loosening his grip on me. A fistful of my hair is pulled, forcing my neck back uncomfortably as my scalp burns. A choked grunt leaves my lips as the person uses my hair to drag me away, with a snap of his wrist I’m thrown to the floor. I land on my hands and knees hard, “Bitch,” the man spits. I get up with a single laugh. He charges at me. I throw a hand out, energy shooting from my hand. He goes flying hitting the wall hard, his stupid baseball cap falling off as he slides to the floor. His long face drops, fear filling his dark irises, he scurries to sit up. “W–w-witch!” he yells with a shaky pointed finger, getting the attention of his partner. The other long-faced man stares at us, distracted, giving Dean the leverage to push the man off of him followed by a punch to the face.

I return my attention to the accusing man. I return my arm to my side, and with a small shrug and a smile I answer, “Guilty.” His face seems to pale, and with a newfound determination, he picks himself up. “Do you really wanna do that? You can stay down,” I offer him. But he snarls and suddenly I’m thrown to the side, a separate body on top of me, my upper arm scraping against the wooden floor. I grunt as the person turns me over and lands a smooth punch to my nose, I catch a glimpse of Dean straddling the guy I had been dealing with serving punch after punch. They had switched people and it worked. Warmth trickles down my nose as I lift my legs around the man and in one fair sweep turn us over. I land punch after punch until a weird metal noise echos against the walls followed by a heavy drop. Stupidly, I look over. Dean’s on the floor unconscious, the tall man who was in the kitchen standing over him with a pan. The dots connect quickly as the man below me pushes me off and stands up with a stumble. I follow his lead and stand up too, wiping the back of my hand below my nose, dragging away blood.

All three men stand together. The one I was just dealing with speaks, “You’re partners down why don’t you be a good girl and give up.” My skin curls, my spine chilling, “Why don’t I rip out your eyeballs and feed it to you’re friends over here, ‘m sure they’d enjoy it,” I reply. The man laughs, “Oh,” his dark teeth exposed, “ I like you.”

My lips curl in disgust, “The feeling is not mutual.” The man in the middle with the pan, the oldest, nudges the man who lost his hat. Silently he moves away, into another room. Now left with two men, I wait for them to make a move as charging them would be stupid and I’d likely be overpowered in seconds. The man returns with a butcher knife and a fire poker. He hands the knife to the other, all three now armed with weapons. The knife and pan weren't much of a worry, not compared to the fire poker. Fire pokers were made from iron, a material made to withstand heat, and apparently witches too. I eye the weapon hoping they could not smell the fear on me like Hannibal.

The two younger men come forward, rushing me. I duck out of the way of the butcher knife, nearly cutting my cheek in the process as I kick the man with the fire poker in the chest. He stumbles and I grab the arm of the knife holder pulling him closer before kicking him in the balls. He bellows as he falls to his knees. The fire poker soars in front of me, one of the little hooks catching on the top of my shirt. He pulls it back, the material ripping slightly and biting into my skin. I turn my attention to him, brows furrowed. He seems to regret his decision as I take a step closer to him. His grip on the fire poker is loose as he takes a step back. I follow after him, easily hitting his wrist. The poker clinking to the floor. Heavy footsteps shuffle behind me. I throw a hand up, flicking it back. Sending the knife man flying. All the while I keep my eyes on the man in front of me. I tilt my head slowly. He throws a punch. I catch it. Twisting his arm until it's behind his back, I walk him a few steps in front of me before throwing him to the ground. 

Suddenly, the eldest man is hitting me across the face with the back of his hand. I stumble back, a familiar memory flashing in my mind. I blink rapidly pushing the memory away just as I’m hit on the side of my face. The pan is suddenly hard against my stomach. I land on my butt with a choked noise. He motions and suddenly the knife man is holding down my arms and the poker man is holding down my ankles. I struggle against their hold. Energy surges in my veins, eyes wide. The fire poker has replaced the pan. He lifts it above his head. Energy is at my fingertips. The fire poker is stabbed through my thigh, through the jeans. A scream erupts from my throat. The energy disappears at once. The room tilts. Everything disappears.

Deep voices flow in and out. The room in blinks. My head spins. Heavy, so heavy.

Heavy eyelids open. Hardly awake. Glimpses of Dean across the room, tied to a chair, his eyes just a bit more aware than mine. 

“Come on. Let us hunt ‘em,” one of them says. My head lulls back, catching a glimpse of the poker sticking out of my leg. My eyes shoot open, suddenly more aware of the predicament. “Yeah, they're both fighters. Sure would be fun to hunt,” the other one adds. Pain surges to my thigh as I sit up straighter, rope binding my hands behind my back and rope to keep my ankles to my chair–matching Dean from what I could see. Their tall frames acted as a wall between us. The eldest laughs a hideous laugh. 

“Oh, you gotta be kiddin’ me. That’s what this is about? You–you yahoos hunt people?” Dean comments, his voice gruff. I huff, “This is one of those times I hate being right.”

Suddenly, the little girl from before, now awake, walks past me knife-drawn. I trace her movements with my eyes. She comes close enough to drag the blade across my cheek in a straight line. I clench my teeth to keep from giving them gratification. She pulls away, seemingly satisfied as blood drips down my cheek, “You having fun there?” I mock. She spits at my feet, all retaliation for invading her mind. The eldest turns his attention on me, stalking closer, “You said you’s one ‘em witches?” he asks.

“Sure,” I reply plainly.

“Thought we burned all of ya at the stake.” 

“Guess you missed one,” I muse instead of giving a history lesson to correct his statement. 

“Why don't you show us a trick?” He tests, eyeing me.

“How about I kill you instead.”

“You ever killed before?”

“I can make an exception for you lot,” I answer. He chuckles before turning to Dean, “What ‘bout you boy, you ever killed before?”

“Wh–” Dean laughs uncomfortably, “Well, that depends on what you mean.” 

“I’ve hunted all my life,” the eldest starts, “Just like my father, his before him. I’ve hunted deer and bear—I even got a cougar once,” he sighs almost dreamily, “Oh boy. But the best hunt is human. Oh, there’s nothin’ like it. Holdin’ their life in your hands. Seein’ the fear in their eyes just before they go dark. Makes you feel powerful, alive.”

“You’re a sick puppy,” Dean replies.

“You need therapy…” I add, “And jail time.” He ignores our commentary to continue his demented story, “We give ‘em a weapon. Give ‘em a fightin’ chance. It’s kind of like our tradition passed down, father to son. Of course, only one or two a year. Never enough to bring the law down, we never been that sloppy.”

“Yeah, well, don’t sell yourself short. You’re plenty sloppy,” Dean interjects. Not so much ignoring it he asks, “So, what, you two with that pretty cop? Are you cops?” he asks.

“If I tell you, you promise not to make me into an ashtray?” Dean teased. The eldest tenses. The man whom I had scared before walks over to him and punches Dean square in the face. “Only reason I don’t let my boys take you right here and now is that there’s somethin’ I need to know,” the father informs ever so kindly. He turns his back on Dean and stalks his way towards me. “Yeah, how ‘bout it’s not nice to marry your sister,” Dean mocks from behind him. The father doesn't flinch even as I laugh at Dean's joke. Suddenly, he grabs the fire poker sticking out of my thigh, moving it around inside as he keeps eye contact, silencing my laughter. I try not to give a reaction, clenching my teeth until it feels like I might break a tooth. But in one movement he pulls the poker from my leg, my nails digging into the chair, a rugged scream erupting from my throat. The room rattles. Blood gushes from the wound, soaking my jeans. Something on a mantel clatters to the floor. He grabs hold of my chin, forcing my face up. “There it is,” he murmurs, voice gravely, as he peers into my pupils that are no doubt purple. He lets go of my face roughly, he adjusts the fire poker in his hand and I expect him to shove it back in, instead, he moves to the old fireplace near me. I force my powers inward, containing them, I would not be a toy for someone. 

I turn my head towards the man, desperate to track his movements, my chest heaving–breath uneven. With a steady eye, he holds the poker over the fire, waiting for the tip to get hot, “Tell me…any of the cops gonna come lookin’ for you?” he asks, the warm glow of the fire illuminating the side of his grimy face. “Oh, eat me,” Dean responds gruffly, “No, no, no, wait, wait, wait, you actually might.” One of the goons walks over to Dean and holds his head in place as the father walks over, the hot fire poker at his side. “You think this is funny? You brought this down on my family?”

“Buddy,” I breathe, cutting him off, “You brought this upon yourself.”

“Alright, you wanna play games?” he mocks, “We’ll play some games.” He looks at the others as he announces, “Looks like we’re gonna have a hunt tonight after all, boys,” a horrible smirk on his face. He turns his attention to Dean, “And you get to pick the animal. The boy or the cop?”

“Okay, wait, wait—look, nobody’s comin’ for us, alright? It’s just us,” Dean answers, all humor gone from his voice. But his response doesn’t satisfy the father, “You don’t choose, I will,” he threatens as he places the hot poker on Dean’s chest, right near his shoulder. A deep piercing scream erupts from his throat. I try to lunge at the man despite my restraints, the other goon comes around to hold my shoulders. The father removes the poker. The screaming silents as Dean curses him out, “Ah, you son of a bitch!” He holds the poker hardly an inch from Dean’s eye, “Next time, I’ll take an eye.”

“Alright, the guy, the guy! The guy!” Dean yells. The goon holding his head lets go, and the father moves the poker to his side again before pulling a necklace from beneath his shirt, a key dangling from it. He pulls it from around his neck and throws it to the man behind me. He releases my shoulders as he catches it, “Lee, go do it,” the father orders, “Don’t let him out though. Shoot him in the cage.” Lee walks to the door, the key clutched as he picks up one of the many guns by the doorway. “What? I thought you said you were gonna hunt him. You were gonna give him a chance!” Dean shouts at the man. But the father ignores him, “Lee, when you’re done with the boy…shoot the bitch too.” Lee nods and leaves.

“Better clean this mess up before any more cops come runin’ out here,” the father explains. I struggle with my restraints again, I would not be useless even as my body works hard to heal the gaping hole in my thigh. But the battle against the simple ropes is fruitless, it's tied too tight and adrenaline is only bringing my energy levels so far. I don’t want to be useless, I could manage the ropes off and get up and fight.

The father spins around, eyes on me. He grabs my chin again, forcefully moving my face as he studies my eyes. “I think we’ll keep your eyes,” he remarks and it feels like a mockery of my previous threat. In a clean movement, the fire poker is shoved back in. It rips through the minute works of healing my body had managed. A scream chokes in my throat. My abilities out at once. “Lo–” a distant gunshot cuts him off. He stands away from me, his face dropping. “You hurt my brother, I’ll kill you, I swear. I’ll kill you all. I will kill you all!” Dean yells. The father ignores him as he calls out for his son, “Lee!” No answer comes. “Lee!” he calls for him again and again no answer comes. He turns to his other kids, “Jared, you come with me. Missy, you watch ‘em now.” Jared works quickly, grabbing two riffles before handing one to his father. And just as quickly they leave. Missy moves closer to Dean, knife drawn and held dangerously close to his eye.

****

I force my eyes to remain open and focused on the ceiling as I lean my head back. We heard multiple gunshots but it was impossible to know who they hit or if they hit at all. And I was growing tired. I may have my tetanus shot but I’m bleeding out…slowly.

The floorboards creak outside the room with particularly placed footsteps. Missy looks between us before scoffing and walking out of the room. Just out of sight, there's shuffling, something clinking to the floor, a door rushed closed, and the dragging of furniture. Seconds later a familiar tall figure steps into the room, “Sam!” Dean laughed. He was battered and bruised but not terribly hurt. He eyes us, our condition, but doesn’t comment on it as he moves to Dean, easily cutting off the ropes. He rises from the chair, hand pressed to his marked shoulder, hunched over just slightly. 

Both boys cross over to me. Sam kneels, cutting away on the rope. Dean removes his hand from his shoulder, the burn mark looks worse up close and would undoubtedly leave a scar. I’d have to heal him. “Gonna have to pull that out, sweetheart,” he remarks. I frown, “That’ll make it worse.”

“You’re not better off this way,” he points out and I know he’s right…unfortunately. I give him a single nod, grounding my teeth as I await the pain. “It’s gonna hurt,” he warns. He wraps his hands around the poker, eyes tracing my face as he pulls it straight out. I groan, biting down on my teeth hard enough to break one. “I am going to rip his throat out and shove it up his ass,” I grumble through clenched teeth. Blood drips down the tip of the poker before he drops it to the floor, blood gushing from the wound.  I take several breaths in and out, in an attempt to calm myself, and with a single thought, I make a roll of gauze, alcohol pads, and a large medical bandage form in the palm of my hand. I handed the small packets to Dean, “For your forehead,” a small cut and dried blood stained the corner of his forehead no doubt from being hit with a pan. 

“You’re not gonna heal your leg?” he asks as I wrap the gauze over the hole in my thigh, blood immediately soaking the bandage. I shake my head, focused on the task and not the pain, “‘Take too long, we’ll have a healing party later.” He seems to accept the answer as he helps me out of the seat, restraints gone. Sam’s hands circle my waist as I steady myself upright, both boys aiding me in the endeavor to walk. We shuffle out of the room that could only be remembered as a part of a torture house. Something bangs on a passing door, hitting the door repeatedly. I spared the noise a glance, it was likely Missy trapped behind the door which would explain where she went and the shuffling before Sam found us.

The porch steps creak beneath our feet. Kathleen emerges from the barn, a thin layer of sweat sticking strands of her dark hair to her face. She walks over to us, meeting us in front of the cannibal house. “Where’s the girl?” she asks, eyeing our condition with careful eyes. “Locked her in a closet,” Dean answers, looking behind the cop and to the barn, “What about the dad?”

She pauses, lips parted, her expression hardening, “Shot. Trying to escape.” She doesn’t have to say anything more for us to know she’s half lying. There’s no doubt he’s dead, the blood splatter on her shirt proving that fact, but during escape was up in the air—not that it matters much to us. He’s dead. Good riddance. 

****

Sam nurses a bottle of water, slowly sipping the contents. He’d gone too long without water and food, we’re lucky Kathleen had at least a bottle in the trunk of her car. Kathleen had moved away from us to call for backup, her figure lingering a couple of feet away.

I gently place a hand over the burn mark near Dean's shoulder, his hand immediately holding my wrist, “You should really work on yourself first,” he points out. I hum in recognition, warmth igniting from my hand and seeping into his skin. He takes a deep breath like his lungs are filling up with air for the first time. “It would scar and a burn mark is harder for the body to heal than just some regular wound,” I reason, the gentle hues of sunset reflecting in his eyes. “There’s a hole in your thigh. That’s not a regular wound,” he argues. I smile, knowing he’s right, “Well I wouldn’t finish by the time we left meaning the chance of the wound reopening is high.” He sighs, “And… the car’s at the police station.”

“Exactly,” I nod, lifting my hand from its place on him. The burn mark was gone, his skin clear and smooth like nothing had happened. “So, state police and the FBI are gonna be here within the hour,” Kathleen suddenly says from behind me. I move to the side of Dean, my hands clasped behind my back as if I hadn’t been touching him. “They’re gonna wanna talk to you. I suggest that you’re long gone by then,” she adds.

“Thanks,” Dean replies, “Hey, listen, I don’t mean to press our luck, but we’re kind of in the middle of nowhere. Think we could catch a ride?” 

She gives him a pointed look, “Start walking. Duck if you see a squad car.” 

“Sounds great to me. Thanks,” Sam says quickly, not pushing it further. “Oh, I, um, I’m sorry for acting like a jerk earlier. I know I could’ve been way nicer,” I apologize, thinking back to my harsh words. “It’s fine, I get it, I would’ve done the same,” she replies and I hope she really does accept my apology.

 “Listen, uh…” Dean starts, “I’m sorry about your brother.” Kathleen swallows roughly, “Thank you,” her eyes tear up, “It was really hard not knowing what happened to him. I thought it would be easier once I knew the truth—but it isn’t really,” she pauses, her words hanging in the air, “Anyway, you should go.” The boys nod and I wish there was more we could do for her as we walk away.

****

“Never do that again,” Dean warns, breaking the silence that had enveloped us on our walk. “Do what?” Sam asks, oblivious. “Go missin’ like that,” he elaborates. 

Sam laughs, “You were worried about me.”

“All I’m sayin’ is, you vanish like that again, I’m not lookin’ for ya,” Dean deflects, poorly. “Sure, you won’t,” Sam muses. We all knew it was a lie, Dean would go looking for Sam till the end of time. “I’m not,” Dean argues. Sam chuckles, “So, you got sidelined by a thirteen-year-old girl, huh?”

“Oh, shut up,” Dean shoves his brother. “Just sayin’, gettin’ rusty there, kiddo,” Sam teases, using his brother's words against him. I laugh, “He’s got a point.”

Despite himself, Dean laughs too, “Both of you, shut up.”