#on episode two and my third eye is wide open | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trippinsorrows · 5 months ago

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looking through your eyes + sixteen

authors note: healing is not linear. regression, sadly, is a part of the process. and ultimately, if someone wants to hurt themselves, they will find a way to do so.

*this chapter contains extremely triggering content. please ensure to read all content/trigger warnings to make an informed decision regarding your mental state and ability to consume the following work of fiction. your mental wellbeing is forever and always more important than any story.*

cw/tw: heavy angst, violence, torture, ptsd episode, victim blaming, reference to childhood sexual assault, thoughts and urges of self-harm, suicide attempt

gentle reminder that you can call or text the free, confidential 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988 anytime, 24/7.

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 8k

“I–I just want to see him. Please—”

It’s got to be the third or even fourth time she’s tried to ask, pleading with her husband’s Wise Man to let her see her husband.

It was hard enough to get Solo to agree to take her to where Roman is, a medical clinic that’s clearly only open to tend to him and any other Bloodline member injured in the shootout. That’s evident by the lack of anyone present outside of an impressive number of Bloodline security.

An uninjured Bayley and Naomi met her at the house shortly after she arrived with Solo, and while she was pleased to see they were okay, to hear that Jimmy and Jey also made it out uninjured, the man she cares about the most is ironically the man she seems incapable of checking on.

She can’t find a way to settle her anxiety, continuing to play the scene of him shot, outside of her head.

That’s why she needs to see him.

She has to see him.

Paul sighs, and there’s irritation evident both in his tone and facial expression. “Solana, I don’t think—hey!”

Fuck it.

He’s silenced by Solana rushing past him, nearly knocking him over in the process. Eyes wide with shock, he stammers, looking just as bewildered as the security guards around him. “Well, don’t just stand there, stop her!”

The men rush to run after her, Solana well aware of the fact that the likelihood of her outrunning them is slim to none.

Doesn't mean she can’t try.

It’s a silly thought though because of course security would be up and down every hall of the clinic, sets of hardened eyes falling on her, ready to attack when they realize who she is. It changes the dynamic a bit. Expressions still stoic and lethal but also confused.

Solana freezes only for a bit as she forces out her request, a poorly delivered demand, really to the guards that line the hall that she suspects house the room Roman is being treated in.

“I need to see my husband.” No one says anything, two of them sharing an expression as Solana decides to try her luck again, knowing that they wouldn’t actually shoot her, trying to sprint past them.

She’s unlucky this time though because one of the guards catches her, restraining her. This makes her tense up almost immediately, fear rising up yet again for the thousandth time tonight.

“Let go of me!” Solana tries to wiggle her way out of the iron grasp, eager and almost needing to get these strange male hands off of her, such a stark contrast to the comfort and safety she feels when it’s Roman who has his hands on her. “I need to see Roman! Please!”

The man holding her and probably pulling her away from the direction of Roman’s room says nothing, just continues to ignore her demands to be released.

“Man, what the hell you doing!”

Solana’s head snaps to the side as she lays eyes on an enraged Jimmy who stalks over, his mere presence and tone causing the man to release her. Solana gasps a bit as Jimmy grabs the man by his collar and slams him against the wall. “Don’t you ever put your fucking hands on her again! You lucky it’s me here and not Roman cause he’d already have a bullet in your head for touching his wife!”

Jimmy looks around, shouting, “that goes to all of ya’ll asses!” He points to Solana. “She asks for Roman, you take her to fucking Roman, alright?”

Bowed heads of shame and a sudden focus on the laminate flooring of the clinic, Solana is relieved when Jimmy walks over, voice calmer, motioning her to follow him. “Come on, Soso.”

Solana wants to ask Jimmy if he’s okay, inquire about Jey, make sure that they’re okay. Bayley and Naomi already told her as such, but they don’t know that. It’s just what’s most polite and appropriate, but all she can think about is Roman and laying eyes on him.

She needs to see him.

And as awful as it may sound, she cares more about making sure her husband is okay before anyone else.

Caught up in her thoughts, she misses when Jimmy knocks on a door in a rhythmic pattern, followed by Jey cracking the door open.

Jimmy sucks his teeth. “Man, open the door. It’s Soso.”

Solana, however, has no desire to wait any longer and finds herself, pushing on the door, forcing Jey to stumble back. “Damn, girl!”

She’s not listening though, uninterested in apologizing because she’s focused on something else.

Focused on someone else.

An older man with blonde hair pulled back, dressed way too casually to be a medical professional seems to be finishing up bandaging her husband who stands only feet away, shirtless, revealing the shoulder tourniquet that conceals the wound. The place where he was hurt.

Where he was shot.

Emotion renews, and a new set of tears reload as she finds herself moving over to him, pressing her body into his, doing her best to avoid touching his left shoulder. Her eyes shut, tears spilling over when she feels Roman’s hand on the small of her back.

“Get out.” It’s directed to the twins and who Solana would guess is the doctor who treated his wound, that last thing being what causes her to pull away, to look over at the stranger.

“No. You—you have to help him—”

The man chuckles and removes the blue latex gloves from his hands. “Lil lady, that’s a job only the big Man Himself can handle.” She frowns a bit as the man with striking blue eyes and an almost country accent explains, “He’ll be fine. Bullet went straight through. Didn't hit any bones, artery, or organs. If he takes it easy for a couple weeks, he'll be good as new. That’s assuming, however, he actually follows the doctor’s orders for once.”

It’s that last sentence that makes Solana wonder if this is the same doctor who diagnosed Roman with high blood pressure and medicated him for it. It makes sense.

But, it’s when they’re alone that the waterworks seem to really come out, Solana unable to hold it in any longer. “I’m sorry—this—this is all my fault.” She cries, Roman gently cradling her face as she shakes her head. “You–you got hurt because of m-me-.”

Roman looks thoroughly confused, asking, “what are you talking about?”

There’s such a heaviness in her stomach and on her chest. She doesn’t want to do this. God, she really doesn’t want to. But, it’s her not doing this in the first place that landed them where they are.

“Roman…..” She closes her eyes. This is so much harder than she thought it would be, and she never thought it would be easy per se, but she also didn’t think it would be this damn painful. “My—my father. He…he wanted our marriage to happen so—so that I—” It’s like knives splitting and slicing the back of her throat as she forces out, “he wanted me to kill you.”

If Roman has a strong or visceral reaction to her dark confession, he doesn’t show it. His expression remains unreadable, maybe a bit of concern, but that was present the minute he laid eyes on her.

“And he said that if I didn’t do it, then he–he would kill me, and that’s w–why you got hurt tonight, because—because of me, because I didn’t say anything.” A fresh set of tears generate as she desperately tries to help him and make him believe her as she explains, “but, I—I was never going to—I could never—I’d rather die than do anything to h–hurt you.”

And it’s the truth.

She would have rather him let the bullet hit her than him.

It’s not fair he had to pay for her actions. Or lack, in this case.

“Solana.” He cuts her off, gentle, voice much calmer than she anticipated in response to such a confession. “I already knew.”

And just like that, she’s back to not breathing again, rendered nearly incapable of speech as she stammers out a response, “w–what?”

Roman sighs deeply, thumb caressing the apple of her cheek. “I always knew your father was up to something. I’m far from stupid. He was too eager and pushy to make the marriage happen. It was obvious he had ulterior motives.” His eyes squint a bit, as he asks her, “why you think one of the first things I did when we got married was cut off contact between the two of you, huh? Whatever he was planning, I wasn’t gonna let him use you to do it.”

Roman’s words together make a logical, sensical sentence, but it’s the processing of it that she struggles with. Roman knew. He knew all along that her father was planning something.

And yet he said nothing.

He has no reaction.

He continues, admitting, “I didn’t know specifically what he had planned, but it doesn’t really make a difference. Murder. Coup d'etat. He wasn't the first, and he won’t be the last.” It’s the casual way he says it that Solana feels so conflicted about, so stunned how he can be so calm about constant threats against his life, against his empire. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been shot, and it probably won’t be the last time.”

“Don’t say that.” She whispers. The trauma and shock of seeing him shot was bad enough, and seeing he appears okay is relieving, but the thought of it happening again feels almost unbearable.

“Solana, you know what I am and what I do. But, it’s like I told you before, I have a tendency to not die, which pisses people off.” His delivery towards the end manages to make her smile. It’s small and sad, but a smile nonetheless. “There it is….” His thumb brushes away some of her tears. “Don’t cry, baby. You know I don’t like seeing you upset.”

She noticed. The same way she doesn’t like to see him hurt. For him to be anything other than okay.

Roman’s eyes shift into something softer as he asks, “why didn’t you tell me?” It’s a question born from curiosity versus the accusatory nature she would expect from someone who was just told their wife was sent to kill them.

It’s a bit of a difficult one to answer too. “I was—I was scared. At the beginning of our marriage, I—I was scared what you would do to me if—if I told you.”

There’s an almost pained look that flashes across his face as he vows, “Solana, you know I would never—”

“I know. I know that now.” She stresses, gently cutting him off. There’s not a doubt in her mind that Roman would never do anything to intentionally hurt her. “But, I—I didn’t then. And….I think I just—I didn’t want to think about it, because things were going good and—and I hadn’t seen him in so long, but I was wrong—and I should have said something sooner—”

“It doesn’t matter.” He’s the one to cut her off this time, shaking his head. “But Solana, your father has crossed a line this time. He tried to kill you.” Roman’s eyes are blazing with with the flame of anger and fury, a desire for vengeance clearly dancing at the forefront of his mind. “I know I told you I wouldn’t kill him until you told me—”

“I don’t care,” she affirms, voice darkening into something also angry. “He—he tried to take you from me. I don’t—I don’t care what happens to him anymore. Him or Wes.”

Because while she doesn’t know the status of her brother and his recovery, Wes was just as involved with the evil plan, so what went down tonight had to have some influence from him in one way or another. It makes him just as guilty.

Roman nods and kisses her temple. He then calls out, “Jey.” It’s loud enough for his cousin to hear, opening the door and asking, “what’s up?”

Roman doesn’t hesitate. “Get me Miller. Just Xavier.” Solana must look curious as he explains, “your brother isn’t well enough yet. I want him back to health, so I can prolong his torture.” It paints a picture of a brutal, gruesome ending, but she can’t find it in her to be repulsed. Whatever hope she had for her brother is clearly long gone, if it was ever there.

“You got it.” Jey nods and closes the door as Solana places her hand on Roman’s forearm, drawing his attention down to her.

“I—I want to talk to him before—-” She swallows, asking, “please?”

Roman nods. “Of course.” She’s thankful for his agreement but not entirely surprised. He breaks away from her, countenance shifts into something stoic and determined.

“This ends tonight.”

________

Solana’s introduction to the place where her husband has probably taken and ended more lives than she’d like to admit is definitely a one and done thing. The atmosphere alone is so dark and depressing that if not for her hand in his and him walking closely alongside her, she might even find herself a bit scared.

But his presence along with her determination to get in her final words to her father manage to carry her over.

She’s also both surprised and relieved when she sees Bayley and Naomi also present. She’s unable to ask them about their presence because Roman is already explaining, “I know you don’t want to be home alone tonight, and I’m not making it back anytime soon.”

She nods, not needing to know why. The edge in his voice is all the telling she needs.

Solana’s stomach drops a bit when she’s taken to her father, strapped to a chair, hands and wrists tied. His face is bruised up, cut, and bleeding. Her eyes must give away her curiosity, Jimmy answering, “he fell.”

Jey suddenly punches him in the side of his head. “Ain’t that what you said when you and your boy was beating on your own fucking daughter?”

Solana swallows. Yes. That’s often what he said to cover up the result of their abuse.

Solana drops her hand and steps a bit closer to him, Roman not once moving or ripping his eyes away from them. It’s virtually impossible for Xavier to do anything to her, but she understands her husband is not willing to take any risks, regardless.

She ignores the weapons and items around her, no doubt intended for unspeakable acts of violence and torture. She just focuses on the man before her, taking in the fact that this is the last time she’ll ever stare into his dark eyes and have to look at his evil face.

“All—all I ever wanted….was for you to love me.” She hates the emotion that chunks up the back of her throat, making it a bit harder for her to speak. “But you never did, and you never will, and—and that’s okay.” She recalls one of the many powerful, profound quotes from her book, reciting it boldly and confidently. “Your inability to love me is not a reflection on my ability to be loved.” She’d like to say she witnesses some type of emotional reaction in her father at her powerful statement, but there’s nothing there.

There never was.

Stepping back, she takes one final look at him, accepting this is the end of this road. The end of all the hurt and pain he’s ever caused her. After tonight, it’s all over. “Goodbye, Dad.”

Solana is back by Roman, taking her hand in his as Xavier’s small, dark laughter draws her attention back to him.

“Didn’t you ever wonder how they bypassed the security system? Both times?”

Solana’s brows are furrowed, confusion dancing in her eyes. Before she can say anything, Roman barks a rough order to the twins, “gag him!”

One glance at him, and she sees something unfamiliar, something that looks strangely close to nervousness.

To fear.

“No,” she finds herself calling out, stopping Jey who was halfway close to doing just that, bandana in his right hand. “What—what are you talking about?”

“Solana, he’s just trying to fuck with your head.” She hears Roman, feels his slight tug on her sleeve as he tries to pull her away, but she also detects something else.

Avoidance.

Roman is intentionally trying to divert her away from this conversation, topic, whatever it is.

Xavier chuckles cruelly, coughing up a bit of blood. “I warned that bitch. I told her what would happen if she tried to take Wesley away from me.”

Now…now he has Solana’s full attention.

She steps toward him, asking again, “what are you t–talking about?”

“Solana, please—”

But, she continues to ignore Roman and instead focuses on whatever it is her father is about to drop on her, something she feels is about to change everything.

Xavier’s bloody smile is cruel and taunting as he reveals, “I was the one who ordered the hit on your mother.” And before she can even sit on that, another bomb is dropped. “And you.”

Solana staggers back, jerking away from Roman as he reaches to touch her. Her mouth is dropped, her heartbeat erratic. She all of a sudden feels dizzy, but it doesn’t stop her from asking again, “what—what did you just say?”

“Shut him up, Jey!”

“No!” Solana shouts both at her husband and his cousin. “I want to know!”

“Your mother was planning to take you and Wesley away from me, and truth be told, if she left Wesley and just took you, I probably wouldn’t have given a fuck. But no, she wanted both of her children. She was a problem, so I got rid of her.” Each word that leaves his mouth has Solana wanting to sink further and further into the ground. “The hit was for both of you, but of course, you fucking survived.” The venom in his voice and hatred in his eyes is almost palpable, further deepening the pain of this betrayal. “I refused to pay them the full amount since they botched the job and didn’t kill you, but that still left the balance for your mother….the balance you paid for me.” And with the most vile smile of all, he adds on coarsely, “who’d have thought a kid’s virginity would sell so high?”

And it’s that statement. That cruel, vindictive statement that breaks her.

Hand to her stomach, Solana almost collapses to the floor but Roman is behind her, catching her fall.

Now that she can focus on him, on anything other than the millions thoughts racing through her mind. Random facts and statements finally coming together, painting a horrific, grim picture.

The failure of the security system both times.

The failed pin entry of her mom’s shaking hands and two years later, Solana’s shaking hand, as they desperately tried to enter the panic room, only for it to flash a red rejection notice.

It was him the whole time.

He killed her mother. He was the one responsible for her rape.

All of it.

Emotions erupt to the surface as Solana tries to break from Roman’s embrace and lunge for her father.

“I hate you!” She screams, unable to think and see beyond her pain. “I fucking hate you!” She can’t stop trying to break Roman’s solid grip on her. She wants to hit him. Wants to stab him. Burn him. Anything and everything that can make him feel just a fraction of her agony. “How could you do that to me!” She cries, wanting, needing an answer. Needing to know why. “I was a child!” She’s never felt something so heavy, so painful. “I was your child!”

As her physical resolve breaks, more diminishes than anything, Solana feels Roman trying to guide her away.

But it’s a mistake, it’s a mistake because she uses that slice of an opening to break away from him and snatch one of the guns on a table, pointing it at her father’s head. But then, she’s not. She’s not because Roman is suddenly standing between her and her target.

Her resolve falters for a bit, as she shouts at him, “move!”

Jimmy’s furious voice calls out. “Man, let her do it, Roman!”

Roman’s gaze is fiery as he silences his cousin with a shout. “Shut up!” But just as quickly as he was enraged, his expression softens almost inhumanly quickly as he pleads, “Solana, listen to me—”

She’s not trying to hear it though. She can’t hear it. “He killed my mother! My mother!”

“I know,” his expression softens into something solemn and sympathetic. “But you don’t want to do this—“

She snaps, her fingers on the gun tightening, her grip firm and focused. “He needs to die!”

“And he will, I promise you that. Slowly. Gradually. In the agonizing way that he deserves, but that can only happen if you let me do this for you—”

Solana cries, shoulders dropping but her aim still intact. “He let them rape me.” Her body trembles, a combination of her heartache and inconsolable rage. “He took her from me! She was my mother!”

If not for the severity and all around heightened tensions, Solana would notice the heartbreaking and furious expressions of the twins, Bayely, and Naomi who now know the exact horror she has experienced. The reason for her disposition. The source of her trauma.

Roman, however, remains focused on de-escalating the situation. “I know, baby, but you’re not a killer, Solana, and I’m not about to let you become one.” If she was thinking straight, capable of thinking clearly in this moment, she’d know he’s only protecting her. Only trying to save her from the thing she told him not even a week ago she could never forgive herself for. Taking someone’s life. “Once you do this, there’s no turning back.”

Solana’s eyes shut as another round of tears makes its way to the surface, heavier and harder to manage with the gun in her hand.

Roman notices this and takes a tentative step forward. “Please, Solana.” His tone is almost desperate, borderline begging. “Give me the gun.”

Eyes still closed and with a weakness she hasn’t felt in years, Solana relents, loosening her grip, allowing Roman to take the gun that he quickly hands to Jey. He moves to catch her as she falls into his chest, sobbing again. Roman cradles her head and kisses the top of her hair while Jimmy and Jey move to jump Xavier, taking that opportunity to get blows in on the old man, both careful to avoid any that could be lethal.

It’s obvious this son of a bitch is in line for a world of suffering that will extend far past tonight.

“Oh, we finna take our time killing you, motherfucker.”

Everything sounds a bit distant. The sound of the twins yelling obscenities at the demon she called a father. Roman trying to comfort her, to settle her. It’s all too much. Too overwhelming. The crying settles into something sullen and solemn, silent tears streaming down her face as she murmurs against him, “I want to go home.”

The emotion is there, but her presence and awareness of everything is diminishing. Solana knows what’s coming, has experienced this state of separation, of dissociating.

She needs to get away.

Roman says something she can’t make out, and before she realizes it, there’s another set of arms around her. Bayley. Naomi is chatting with Roman, the only thing she’s able to make out,

‘Don’t leave her alone.’

Alone.

She’s not sure she’s ever felt that as strongly as she does at this moment.

________

It’s all such a blur.

Such a separate thing. Emotions separate from her. Emotions that are dark, heavy, confusing, overwhelming. Fleeting. There’s an oscillation of all the feelings. Tears that accompany heartache. Sobbing that accompanies grief. Nothing that arrives with nothing.

It’s a brutal, miserable experience of feeling the weight of the world but also the emptiness of the void.

It’s obvious that Naomi and Bayley don’t know how to help her, don’t know how to comfort her, just continue to sit with her, letting her cry when she needs to and scream when she has to. Even Dulce sits by her side, whimpering every so often and licking her.

It’s appreciated. So appreciated.

But….it’s not enough.

Losing her mother was heartbreaking. Losing her in the way she did, so violently and graphically was torture.

Being held down and gang raped by two grown men at twelve years old nearly killed her. They nearly killed her.

But, there’s something about finding out that her father, her biological father, was responsible for those two things that’s almost impossible to believe.

She knew her father was cruel.

She just didn’t know just how cruel until this very evening.

Escape.

Her mother was trying to escape, trying to make a better life for herself and her children. And he killed her for it.

Tried to kill Solana too, and when that didn’t work, he traded her virginity in exchange for payment.

Flashes. Glimpses. Images.

They’ve been hitting her nonstop since the truth came out. Playing in her mind like some kind of sick horror film. It’s torture. It’s painful. It’s unbearable.

It’s too much.

She places her hands on the bathroom counter, having finished using the bathroom after waking up yet again from night terrors.

Her eyes shut.

Solana is tired.

So so tired. Tired of the pain. Of the lies. Of the betrayal. Everything hurts. Everything feels so heavy. She tries to escape in sleep, but the memories haunt her and suddenly, she’s reliving it all, but now with the horrific knowledge that the first man who should have ever loved and protected her was responsible for her biggest traumas.

And it’s impossible to escape those flashes, those thoughts and flashbacks becoming more frequent and intrusive by the minute. She’s suffocating.

Drowning in her own head.

Drowning in her own body.

Solana’s eyes open and fall over to the shower where her razor would have been available if not for her earlier strength and ability to hand it and the brand new box of them over to Bayley and Naomi.

Just an hour or two ago, she was able to do that much. Able to resist that temptation and not break years of sobriety.

But, now…. now she can’t.

She doesn’t even want to.

That would only provide a temporary escape.

She’s just….just so tired.

She wants….needs something longer.

Something more permanent.

Unable to escape the mental anguish, Solana leans down and digs through a toiletries bag from the trip she hasn’t unpacked.

And she pulls out the bottle of sleeping pills.

Roman’s request from months ago returns, smacking into her.

“Any of those thoughts come back, you tell me. I don’t care if you have to paint it on the fucking wall. I want to know.” His intense expression is set right on her, needing to make sure she understands what he’s asking of her. “Understand?”

Her eyes water.

Roman….

Even with his lack of being honest with her, of somehow knowing but not telling her the truth, there’s never been a person that she’s loved more than him. Not since her mom.

It’s why she can’t call him. Can’t continue to burden him with having to deal with all her shit.

All she’s done since entering his life is make shit difficult. She’s done it with him. Bayley. Naomi. Jimmy. Jey.

All of them.

They’ve had to adjust so much just for her, and for what? For her to end up right back where she started?

She can’t….she can’t do that to them again.

She can’t do that to Roman again.

She loves him too much for that, loves him too much to continue to hurt him.

She just….she just needs to remove herself from the equation.

Needs to remove herself from all of their lives.

Forever.

Shaking hands twist off the cap as she dumps a handful of pills into her trembling palm.

There’s the briefest second of a delay, a moment where she reconsiders, where she wonders if she’s making the right decision. But another flashback hits her, the feeling of the knife slicing through her mother’s lifeless body and entering Solana ripping her away from that reconsideration.

Another thought of Roman and her friends having to help her yet again.

Save her again.

She can’t do it anymore. She doesn’t want to do it anymore.

There is no saving her anymore.

This is the only way.

And she swallows, using the water bottle on the counter to force the excessive amount of pills down her throat. A brief glance at her reflection brings on another set of silent tears. Broken. Empty. There’s nothing left for her to do, no reason for her to exist anymore.

Not even bothering to put the pills away, Solana walks out of the bathroom and into the dark bedroom where Bayley is the first to ask, still sitting in the chair in the corner of the room, dedicated to staying awake for her ‘shift’, completely unaware of this being the last time they’ll interact. “Do you need something?”

Solana shakes her head and climbs back onto the bed. Grabbing her phone, ignoring the tears that blur her vision, she types out a simple text to the one person she’ll miss the most.

She’ll miss them all, but none more than him.

Solana: I’m sorry.

Sent and delivered, she locks her phone, placing it on the nightstand, closing her eyes.

Solana just wants to go to sleep.

And this time…..not wake up.

________

Rage.

Fury.

Wrath.

And any word synonymous to anger, yet none of them adequately describe what’s coursing all throughout Roman’s body. Years. It’s been years since he’s felt this much anger, held so much of it that he has a hard time thinking and feeling.

He’s incapable of escaping the sound of Solana’s sobbing, the way she literally fell apart in front of him, breaking before him.

And it’s all because of the son of a bitch currently underneath him on the receiving end of devastating blow after blow of Roman’s brass knuckled fists. How long he’s been hitting the old man is beyond him. Not long enough.

It’ll never be long enough.

Never painful enough.

Not for what he’s done.

A hand on his uninjured shoulder temporarily pulls him away from his newfound life mission to make this piece of shit feel every type of pain imaginable before he takes his last breath.

Roman’s roar bounces off the walls. “What!”

Jey looks unfazed by Roman’s irate tone and instead advises, “he’s unconscious, Uce. Let up or you gon kill him.”

That’s the fucking goal.

But not yet. Death is too sweet for Xavier to receive at this point.

Huffing and suddenly aware of all the energy expended as well as the blood splattered all over his clothes and face, Roman tosses the knuckles to the side and issues an order to Jey even while walking, refusing to acknowledge any appreciation for his warning, “let me know when Jimmy has them.”

Them.

Them being the two men who have no idea what kind of horror awaits them. Men whose names were tortured out of Xavier pretty easily by Roman.

Rapists.

Solana’s rapists.

Reaching the locker room in the back, Roman easily strips himself naked and steps in the shower, allowing the water to rain down his body, red mixing with clear and disappearing down the drain. Hands against the shower wall, he shuts his eyes.

He can’t escape the sound of Solana’s wails. He’s never heard or seen her so upset. Never wanted to. It’s the exact reason he settled on not telling her the truth, because he knew this would happen.

Knew this would destroy her.

It’s just the extent of the destruction that worries him.

Just how far back this has set her that has him feeling something he hasn’t felt in years but has now experienced twice tonight. Once when he saw the hand raised and gun lifted in Solana’s direction and now her breakdown.

Fear.

It has him scared.

And Roman doesn't know what to do with that emotion, doesn’t know how to handle it outside of beating the shit out of and torturing her father and rapists. But even that only does so much.

It doesn’t do enough, because she’s hurting, more than she probably ever has, and he can’t do shit about it.

Because making the fuckers who hurt her suffer doesn’t do shit for the pain she’s experiencing now.

And he hates that shit. Hates that she’s hurting and he can’t help her, take away that pain from her.

With all the frustration in his body, Roman slams his fist into the shower wall, forcing himself to calm down just enough to get cleaned up.

He uses a fresh set of clothes in the lockers to redress himself, redoing his bandages and using a towel to dry off his hair as best as possible.

But, it’s when Jey comes and seems to interfere with Roman starting his next round of torture, a thought of starting to skin the old man sounding more than desirable, that his frustration multiplies.

“Not now.”

Roman continues to walk when he feels Jey forcefully grab his arm, forcing him to turn around. Roman looks at his hand and then back at Jey. “Have you lost—”

“Roman.”

But, it’s the tone that stops the Head of the Table from issuing out his threat. In all the years he’s known Jey, he’s never heard his cousin use such a heavy, spooked tone.

“What?” There’s hesitation, and that only pisses Roman off. “What!”

Jey swallows, answering with an almost pained countenance. “Solana’s at the hospital.” Jey’s frown, sadness seeped and imbued into his usual gregarious voice. “She tried to kill herself, Roman.”

________

Three.

There’s now been three separate occurrences in a single day that have caused Roman to experience the emotion most unfamiliar to him.

Fear.

And this third time, it’s the strongest it’s ever been as he marches into the hospital floor where he was informed she was.

“Where is she!”

And when his gaze lands on a clearly disturbed and crying Naomi and Bayley, the anger only grows as he moves over to them. “What the fuck happened!” Roman doesn’t give them time to respond, too consumed with his anger that’s truly a mask hiding his fear. “Why weren’t you watching her! I fucking told you to watch her!”

Bayley is the first to shoot up from her chair, eyes watery but scowl intact. “We were! She—”

But, he’s not trying to hear shit what she has to say. Not when they’ve failed him in the worst way possible. “Obviously you fucking weren’t because we’re standing in a goddamn hosptal–”

Jimmy, who Roman had completely forgotten came along with him, Jey as well, does his best to diffuse the situation, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Roman, you need to calm—”

But the Head of the Table is too far gone, harshly shrugging off his cousin’s innocent attempt at calming him down. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Roman removes himself from their presence, not even wanting to see these useless bitches as he calls out once again. “Where is she!”

It’s only then he sees a blonde woman walk out from the back, dressed in a white coat, clipboard in hand. She looks irritated which only pisses him off because how the fuck do you work at a fucking hospital and look annoyed. But, when she sees him, or maybe sees how irate he is, her gaze softens.

She steps in his direction as Roman also steps toward her, putting some distance between himself and the group. “Mr. Reigns, can—”

“Where is my wife?” It’s the same question he will keep asking until it no longer needs to be asked because he’s taken to her.

The woman, doctor, probably, frowns, motioning to the back. “Can we talk in private?”

Roman pinches the bridge of his nose, doing his best not to violate his code of never putting his hands on a woman. But, this bitch is really fucking pushing it.

He just wants to see Solana.

He needs to see her.

“You’ve got three fucking seconds to take me—”

She scoffs, relenting and “Fine, we’ll do it here. Your wife is in recovery. We were able to successfully pump her stomach, but we had to sedate her because she was inconsolable upon waking up. I suspect she’s in the midst of some sort of psychotic episode.”

There’s so much in that sentence to process. Roman doesn’t even know where to begin to dissect it, so he starts with the part that pisses him off the most. “She tried to overdose on pills and your solution was to put more fucking medicine in her?”

The doctor, however, seems to show no sign of backing down. “My patient needed to be stabilized, so I stabilized her.” Her voice softens a bit as she adds, not necessarily as something to throw in his face but rather an important note he shouldn’t ignore. “If you had seen how upset she was, you would have understood.”

Roman, however, can’t think about that. Can’t think about how upset and terrified Solana must have been. Somehow a level calmer, he expresses once again, “I want to see her.”

“I understand, but—”

Right away, Roman knows his brief respite from level 10 rage is about to be broken by whatever she’s about to say. “What?”

She takes a deep breath, informing, “I’m putting her on a 5250 hold.”

Roman looks from side to side. “What the fuck does that mean?”

There’s no sign of hesitation as she explains, “it means I’m keeping her here in the hospital for two weeks on a legally mandated psychiatric hold.”

Yeah….he was absolutely right.

Level fucking 10.

“Like hell you are!” Roman is seeing red. Who in the flying fuck does this bitch think she is to say Solana is staying in the hospital? “She’s coming home with me. Tonight. The minute she fucking wakes up.”

And that’s a fact.

“How much do you know about Solana’s psychiatric history?” A lot, and that’s why he knows she doesn’t need to stay here in this forbidding, sterile place. She needs to be home with him so he can take care of her. “This is her second suicide attempt. Now, I don’t know what the hell happened to trigger this psychotic break, but your wife is severely and actively suicidal.” She lowers her voice, softly and almost sympathetically sharing with him so only he can hear. “She was inconsolable because she was upset we saved her life. She was upset she was still alive.”

That’s it.

The thing that makes Roman’s anger crumble almost entirely.

He wanted to believe it was a mistake, an accident of some sort. Didn’t want to believe that she truly intended to take her life tonight.

But this woman has no reason to lie, and beyond that, he’s innately adept at deciphering when someone is lying and when they’re being truthful.

She’s not lying.

Solana wanted to die.

Solana wanted to actually die.

And he doesn’t know what to do with that information.

At all.

The crack in his harsh exterior must be evident, because the doctor continues to try to convince him what he now knows probably is the right thing to do. “You can get her to sign an AMA and take her home, but I guarantee you that she’ll end up right back in this hospital for another attempt…..and the next time might be too late.”

He can’t.

Roman can’t lose her. He can’t even let himself think about what he would do if he lost her.

Especially if it was because of her own actions.

She continues, desperate, “let us get her stabilized. On a medication regimen. As I said, this presents as a brief psychotic episode, which we can help her manage and treat but only if you let us keep her here to monitor her.”

Roman tilts his head back, eyes closed as he scratches his beard. There’s an unfamiliar weight in his chest and stomach at the thought of having to leave this hospital tonight without Solana. But this isn’t about what he wants, it’s about what’s best for Solana.

It’s about what she needs, and he’ll do whatever he has to do to make sure she gets the help she needs.

“Jey.” His cousin steps up, previously keeping a respectful distance. “Get with security. I don’t want a son of a bitch that’s not Bloodline or Bloodline vetted to step foot on this floor while she’s here.”

Jey nods. “You got it.”

Roman overhears footsteps followed by the woman speaking again, “Thank you.” She takes another deep breath and informs, “Now, it’s standard practice that we not allow visitors the first couple days—“

And just like that, the anger has returned, even more intense now that he knows Solana isn’t getting released tonight. Or anytime soon. “I don’t give a fuck about your standard practice—”

Bayley’s voice suddenly enters the conversation, Roman aware that the remaining group has stepped forward, obviously wanting to be aware of the plan and what happens now. “Roman, can you please just let Dr. Stratus do her fucking job? This isn’t about—”

Bayley, however, chose the wrong time to fuck with him. Because any filter he ever acquired because of Solana certainly won’t be used until she’s back home, with him, where she belongs. “Like you were supposed to? Solana wouldn’t be here if you were watching her like I fucking told you to! This is your fault!”

There’s a small, minute part of him that feels bad when he sees the devastation on Bayley’s face, but it’s short lived, vastly overpowered by his tremendous anger.

And fear.

Bayley is quick with the response though, ready and willing to aim just as low as he is. “Fuck you, Roman! You don’t get to blame this on us! You should have fucking told her! You had no right to keep the truth from her! She’s here because of you!”

The dark irony in her accusation is that It’s nothing he doesn’t already know.

Nothing he doesn’t already hate himself for.

Bayley is absolutely right.

This absolutely is on him.

His attempts to save her only damned her.

“Stop it! Both of ya’ll! This don’t do shit to help, and Solana wouldn’t want ya’ll fighting!” Jimmy suddenly jumps in, moving between the two highly emotional people, even if both are only expressing it as anger. He turns to his cousin first, as Naomi tries to pull Bayley away, also working to de-escalate an already tense situation. “Look, Uce, I know you want to see her, but—”

“I’m not leaving without seeing her.” Roman’s gaze is on his cousin but it’s directed toward the doctor who either takes some type of mercy on him or recognizes that Roman will literally kill everyone who gets in his way if she doesn’t give in to his demand, because she’s switching her tune.

“A couple of minutes,” she relents. “But only you.”

Roman doesn’t care about the rest of them anyway. They can see her whenever they fucking see her.

He’s the one who needs to see her.

But, it’s in seeing her that a part of him wishes he didn’t. Because this isn’t right. She shouldn’t be laid up like this, unconscious, pale, such a sad expression on her sleeping face.

He hasn’t seen her like this since that first night he overheard and woke her up from her nightmare.

A nightmare.

He’d give anything for that to be the case again.

“I can’t lose you, Solana.” It's the first thing to leave his mouth, a plea and prayer. There’s nothing but vulnerability in his voice, and he doesn’t give a fuck. He’ll be as vulnerable as he needs to be for her. He’ll do anything for her. “I need you. I told you that, but I don’t think you understand how badly I need you.”

If there was any doubt before, it’s completely destroyed now. He doesn’t know how honest or comfortable he could be outside of these four walls, if it wasn’t just the two of them, but right now, with nothing but her steady breathing and rhythmic beating of the machines she’s plugged up to, he’ll pour his heart out.

“You can’t leave me, alright?” Roman’s hand moves to her forehead, thumb caressing her skin that feels too cold, doesn’t feel like her. “I don’t care what it takes, what you need, what I have to fucking do, but I need you to get better, and I’ll do anything to help you.”

And he will. It’s why despite how much he hates this notion of having to leave her, the almost anxiety he has at having to leave tonight without her in his arms, he’ll do it. He’ll do it because he just wants her to be happy.

She deserves that, and he’ll do whatever it takes to get it to her.

His voice is thick with emotion. “I just need you to stay with me, baby, okay?” Not being able to see her pretty brown eyes, the curl of her full lips as she smiles, his favorite fucking thing in the world, it’s torture.

He never wants to see her like this again.

He can’t.

He won’t.

Roman kisses her forehead and forces himself to walk out of the hospital room, one of the hardest departures he’s ever had to do. Dr. Stratus is waiting outside the door, and just like that, the infamous stoic, unreadable expression is back.

With Solana, he’s just Roman.

But for everyone else, he’s the Tribal Chief.

There is no other option.

“No men on her care team. Women only.” If she’s going to be here, he’s going to make sure she

has everything she needs. “I want daily updates. Anything happens or changes with her status at all, I want to know. You understand me?”

Dr. Stratus must have also read the section in Solana’s medical records that alludes to her sexual trauma, because she doesn’t object. “Understood.” She swallows, bringing the medical chart to her chest. “You know…I head an inpatient women’s psychiatric clinic about an hour out. It’s not uncommon for patients like your wife to transition there following dis—”

“You can keep her on your two week hold, but she’s coming home with me as soon as that’s up. Try and get in my way, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

She’s wise to not push, smart to not try to stop him from leaving, because as far as Roman is concerned, there’s nothing and no one he’ll stop short from torturing, killing, and maiming if they try to get in his way of being with Solana.

He can’t live without her.

He loves her too much to live without her.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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dianawinchester03 · 3 months ago

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Season 2, Episode 21 - All Hell Breaks Loose: Part 1

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Ahhhh yes, the dreaded episode is finally here😭Just so y’all know, this was not easy for me to write LMAO.

So the song I listened to while rereading and editing this chapter is Dynasty by Miia sooooo, do what you want with that;) listen to it while reading if that’s your thing.

Lmao, GOOD LUCK MY BEAUTIES!!

____________________________________________

Third Person POV

Boston’s ‘Foreplay/Longtime’ boomed through the Impala’s speakers, the quartet was headed to a local diner. The screech of Baby’s wheels dug into the gravel in front of the dingy diner. “Hey, don’t forget the extra onions this time, huh?” Dean said to Sam, handing him some cash between his fingers for the food.

“Dude-” Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes as he snatched the money from his fingers. “-we’re the ones who’re gonna have to ride in the car with your extra onions” Sam sassed, making Jo snicker in the backseat, while Y/N groaned heavily, resting her head on Jo’s shoulder. “Times like this, I miss my girl” She groaned, referring to her bike.

“There, there, darling.” Jo pat Y/N’s head playfully. Dean just smiled widely as Sam and Y/N hopped out of their respective seats. “Hey, see if they got any pie!” Dean called out to them, Sam and Y/N shot him annoyed looks as they harshly shut their doors. “Bring me some pie!” He called out again.

“We won’t forget your cake!” Y/N shouted back with a roll of her eyes, slightly offended that Dean really thought she would forget the pie. Forgetting the pie was more Sam’s thing. “PIE!!!” Dean shouted again. “I love me some pie” He muttered to himself, turning up the radio.

Y/N pushed the door open to the diner, allowing Sam in first, the bell above the door jingling as they entered inside. The lighting was soft and dim, the atmosphere of the diner gave the diner an intimate feel. The place was a typical small town diner, booths with vinyl seats, checkered floor, and counters. A couple of customers sat scattered about, talking amongst themselves between bites.

Jo watched Y/N and Sam walk into the diner through the windshield, her attention turned back to Dean. “I’m starving,” She spoke, rubbing her empty stomach. “All this hunting makes a girl hungry.”

“I hear ya” He chuckled a little in agreement, his eyes still glued to the door where Y/N and Sam had disappeared into. “I swear, if they forget the pie, I’m gonna lose it.” He muttered under his breath, running his hand through his hair. Jo snorted in amusement, “Like she’d forget your pie” She told him, shaking her head.

“True, but Sam can be a little brain-dead sometimes.” He added with a crooked smirk. “Dude forgets the pie every time we stop at a diner. It’s a good thing Y/N always reminds him.” Jo nodded in agreement, “I swear that girl keeps you guys alive.”

Before Dean could respond to that, the music that was sounding through the Impala began going static. The light in the radio deck started blinking as if something was interfering with the frequency. Dean and Jo furrowed their brows, the elder Winchester reaching over to tap the deck but the music shut off.

The two shared a bewildered look upon noticing the surroundings were eerily silent and the once filled diner with patrons and staff was now empty, no sign of Sam or Y/N whatsoever. They instantly bursted into action without a word, Dean exiting the drivers side with Jo climbing out of the backseat.

Both rushed over to the diner door, the jingling of the bell and the sound of country music filled their ears, their eyes widening at the scene in front of them, one of the patrons was now laying facedown in a booth, a bullet wound to the back of his head, his cap laying near the puddle of blood.

Their senses heightened in alert as they stepped in, their eyes scanning the diner for any sort of threat. The atmosphere was eerily quiet, all noise cut to a halt, except for the faint sound of the country music playing on the old radio behind the counter. Dean and Jo cautiously moved further inside, weapons drawn, prepared for danger.

Dean as he gripped his holstered gun at the back of his jeans and Jo retrieved hers from her jean jacket. “Sam?!” Dean shouted for his brother. “Y/N?!” Jo called out for her sister, slowly padding into the diner, Jo’s eyes were trapped on the blood leaking down the edge of the table where the innocent man laid in the pool of his own bodily fluids.

“Y/N?! Sammy?!” Dean and Jo called out for them but no response was given. Jo slightly jumped back when her eyes landed on the two dead cooks of the diner behind the counter, both with their throats slit. Their calls echoed through the silent diner, only returned with silence.

Jo’s heart was racing a million beats per minute, a cold sweat breaking out on her skin. She was filled with panic, fear and anxiety bubbling in the pit of her stomach as she followed Dean through the diner. The sight of the two dead cooks made her blood run cold and she fought the urge to gag at the sight.

Dean’s jaw tightened, his heart pounding as he tried to keep his cool, his hand tightening around his silver revolver. He’d been in tense situations way worse than this, and yet…he couldn’t shake the feeling of pure dread crawling up his spine. “Sam!” He yelled again, his voice hoarse and tense. “Y/N?! Where the hell are you?!”

Dean and Jo walked around the back, stumbling upon the back door. The elder Winchester pushed it open, the rain had come down since they entered the diner, there were no tracks out the back, nothing. As if they had just vanished. Upon taking his hand off the door, Dean felt a weirdly familiar dust coat the side of his hand. His eyes widened as he dusted the yellow sand between his fingers.

His heart rate increased rapidly. Jo turned to him in surprise, her eyes locking on to the dust between his fingers. “Sulfur” They both said in unison. The two rushed out of the diner, screaming the names of their loved ones.

“Sam?!”

“Y/N?!”

“Sammy?!”

“Y/N/N?!”

Their footsteps were heavy through the wet gravel of the parking lot. Their voices echoed through the empty parking lot. Dean and Jo’s breaths were coming out in panicked gasps as they tore through the rain, calling for Sam and Y/N over and over.

“SAM!!! Y/N!!!!”

____________________________________________

Cold Oak, South Dakota

Meanwhile, Sam and Y/N were both passed out on an old board next to each other in a ghost town. Sam’s hand twitched on top of Y/N’s face, accidentally clocking her one in her cheek. Y/N’s eyes shot open, a soft gasp leaving her lips when she found herself woken up to a world rocking punch from Sam and a blinding headache.

"Ow!" She groaned, bringing a hand to her sensitive cheek where Sam's hand had made contact. Her head was spinning and her cheek throbbed with pain from the accidental punch. She shot a glare over to Sam, who was slowly regaining consciousness as well, groaning heavily. "Sam, you stupid fucking idiot." She mumbled, punching him back in his ribcage.

Sam grunted heavily as eyes shot open, his senses slowly coming back to him. His head was pounding, and his vision was blurry with exhaustion. He groaned loudly, rubbing his head before looking down, finding Y/N on the floor next to him, cradling her cheek. "Jesus" He croaked out, wincing, clutching his side. "What...happened?"

“I don’t know” Y/N said in confusion, still gripping her bruised cheek with one hand and her throbbing hand with the other as Sam pushed himself up, struggling to steady himself. Sam took a minute to steady himself, his feet stumbling to keep himself upright. Once he'd stabilized, he turned to Y/N, concern etched on his face as he noticed her holding her hand and bruised cheek.

"You okay?" He asked, his voice gruff yet genuine. Y/N glared at him slightly, clutching her cheek. “Just peachy” She huffed, putting her hand out for him to help her up. Sam looked guilty as he grabbed Y/N's offered hand and aided her up. "Sorry about that." He apologized genuinely, gesturing to her bruised cheek.

Y/N rubbed the tender area of her cheek, wincing slightly as her fingers grazed over the bruise. "It’s fine, I got you back. But I do feel bad for Jo" Y/N teased with a hint of humor in her voice despite the pain. Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes in playful annoyance as they both scanned the deserted town they had woken up in with their eyes. Not a soul in sight.

Panic began to set in for them both as Sam quickly reached into his pocket to fish his phone out. His phone just beeped, indicating there’s no signal. Sam’s fingers trembled as he tried calling for a signal on his phone, but it just continued to display no signal. “Goddammit” He muttered under his breath as he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

“Y/N, where’s your phone?” He asked, his voice growing more desperate in tone. “I left it in the Impala before we went into the diner” She groaned, holding her throbbing forehead. Sam's jaw clenched in frustration and worry. "Dammit!" He exhaled as he began to pace back and forth on the old worn-down board. He tried to think rationally, but panic was taking over.

"We have to find a phone, we need to call Jo and Dean." He spoke, a sense of desperation in his words. Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed Sammy but-” She flailed her arms around. “We’re in the middle of NOWHERE!”

"Oh, I'm so glad you just gave me that update, genius." He retorted sarcastically, his words a bit sharper than he intended. He paused, taking a moment to try and center himself before continuing.

"We can’t just stand here waiting," he grumbled under his breath, his eyes scanning the surroundings. “We need to find some way to contact them, even if we have to walk twenty miles on foot." He said determined, marching off to investigate.

Y/N’s eyes widened at his words. “Twenty miles in these boots?? Come on!” She exclaimed, begrudgingly following behind her best friend.

An hour later, the two still hadn’t found anyone or anything in the town. Going up to old buildings, but most of the doors were locked or barred. That was until they heard the floorboards creaking while outside of an old house.

Sam froze in place as they approached another seemingly abandoned house, their ears perked up as they heard the creaking of the floorboards coming from within. He turned to Y/N and held up a hand, signaling her to stay behind him.

Y/N’s eyes landed on two large wooden ply at the front of the door, she reached down slowly and picked them both up, handing one to Sam. Sam took the board from Y/N, and held it in a defensive position, ready in case they had to fight off an unknown danger.

Sam stood for a moment, listening intently to the sounds coming from within. The footsteps grew louder coming towards them and Y/N instantly aimed to hit the person but pulled back upon recognizing them.

“AHHH!!” Andy screamed, backing up into the old wall, holding up his hands. Sam’s eyes widened, “Andy?!” He spoke, lowering the 2x4 in his hand. “Sam. Y/N.” Andy gasped. “What are you two doing here?!” He exclaimed, fully panicked. “We don’t know!” Y/N said back in equal panic and confusion, lowering her wood. “What am I doing here?!” Andy exclaimed again.

“We don’t know. Just-” Sam tried to tell him to calm down but Andy cut him off. “Where are we?!” Andy panicked, Sam and Y/N shared an exasperated look before both tossing their woods aside. “Andy, honey, look. Calm down” Y/N tried to say soothingly but it didn’t seem to help him whatsoever.

“I-I can’t calm down. I have just woke up in fucking Frontierland” Andy’s voice went up an octave as he hyperventilated. “Okay, okay. What’s the last thing you remember?” Sam asked him calmly. Andy panted as he placed his hand to his forehead, “Honestly. My fourth bong-load” Andy panted.

Y/N let out a little snort of amusement, earning a side eye and a nudge to the ribs by Sam. She winced slightly, shooting him a glare as she rubbed her rib while Andy explained. “It was weird. All of a sudden, there was this really intense smell, like, uh-” Sam and Y/N shared a knowing look at this.

“Like sulfur?” She cut him Off. “How did you know that?” Andy gasped. “Dean.” Sam said as he gulped. “Your brother, is he here?” Andy asked hopefully. Y/N’s heart dropped as Sam shook his head. “We don’t know where he is” Y/N’s tone dropped as she toyed with her charm bracelet. “We don’t know if he’s-” Sam’s heart panged at the thought of something happening to Dean or Jo.

A woman screaming in the distance made their heads snap in the direction of the sound. The three instantly began rushing towards the sound of a woman screaming and banging on a wooden crate. “Help me, please!! I’m locked in here!!” The woman’s cries echoed. “Hello?!” Y/N shouted. They stumbled upon the crate, which was locked from the outside.

“Help!! Help me!!!” The woman cried, banging on the door. “Okay, okay. We’re here. We’re gonna get you out, alright?! Just hold on a second!” Sam assured the woman as y/n picked up a stone from the ground and began hitting the lock. After a few strikes, the lock broke. Y/N quickly discarded the rock as Sam took the lock off.

“Alright, one second!” Sam shouted, pulling the door open to reveal Ava. Sam and Y/N’s mouths dropped, “Ava?!” Y/N gasped, “Oh my god, Sam! Y/N!!” Ava sobbed exasperatedly, her tone going up an octave, rushing into Y/N’s arms. The psychic instantly wrapped her arms around her, burying her face in her hair.

Sam let out a breath of relief upon seeing Ava alive and well. Her disappearance haunted him and y/n for months. Andy stood there awkwardly as the two women embraced. “I guess you know each other” He said awkwardly as Ava pulled away from y/n. “Yeah” Sam nodded, only to let out a low, “Oof” as Ava threw herself into his arm.

“How did you-? I mean- how did you-” Ava stuttered, trying to talk. “Ava, have you been here this whole time?” Sam asked her, bewildered. “What whole time? I just woke up in there like half an hour ago!” Ava exclaimed. “Well, you’ve been gone for months. Sam, Dean and I have been looking everywhere for you” Y/N told her, Ava shook her head.

“Okay, that's impossible, because I saw you guys two days ago” Ava scoffed, Sam and Y/N looked at her as if she had grown two heads. “You didn’t, I’m sorry” Sam shook his head. Ava’s face dropped, “But that makes no sense. It’s-” She began sobbing again. “Oh, my God!” She gasped. “My fiancé, Brady, if I’ve been missing for that long, he must be freaking out!”

Sam and Y/N shared a sideways look as Ava sobbed hysterically, a lump growing in Y/N’s throat. “Well-” Sam’s words got caught in his throat. “Oh-” Ava’s face contorted to confusion when her eyes landed on Andy. “Hey. Andy. Also freaking out” Andy awkwardly introduced himself. “Okay. What’s happening?!” Ava screamed.

Y/N ran a hand over her face, sighing heavily. “I don’t know. I don’t really know yet” Sam sighed. A thought popped up in Y/N’s head. “But I know one thing” Y/N began, putting a finger up. “I know what the four of us have in common.” She stated, Sam nodded in agreement. “Hello? Is anybody there?” The sound of an unfamiliar voice of a man in the distance made all their heads snap in the same direction.

“Maybe more than four” Sam muttered, he and y/n nodded in unison before following the sound of the man’s voice.

The four of them walked through the abandoned town, looking for the source of the voice. They rounded a corner and heard the banging of something, they picked up their pace towards the sound.

They stood in front of a small shop, the sound of something banging against wood echoed from inside. “Help! Somebody, anybody” The man’s voice called out desperately.

“Hello?! Hey!” Sam shouted, stumbling upon an African American man in an army uniform and a blonde woman, all seemingly around their age. “Hey, you guys alright?” Y/N asked. “I think so.” The man responded. “I’m Y/N. This is Sam” Y/N introduced them both, gesturing to Sam.

“I’m Jake.” Jake introduced himself. “Lily” Lily, the blonde woman who looked scared, introduced herself. “Are there any more of you?” Sam asked, looking behind them. “No” Jake shook his head. “How did we even get here? A minute ago I was in San Diego” Lily said. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I went to sleep last night in Afghanistan” Jake countered, making everyone’s jaws drop.

“Let me take a wild guess. You two are both 23?” Y/N asked them. Their eyes widened in disbelief, “Well, we all are. And we all have abilities” Sam added. “What?” Jake asked, clenching his jaw. “It started a little over a year ago, when you found out you can do things. Things you didn’t think were possible” Sam continued. Everyone fell silent.

“Me and Sam have visions. We see things before they happen.” Y/N told them. “Yeah, me too,” Ava muttered. “And I’m telekinetic. I can move things with my mind, like-” Y/N put her right hand out, focusing her energy on the dried dead leaves on the ground. Her eyes flashed white as her veins on her hand ignited to a light shade of aqua blue.

The leaves and small twigs started trembling and floated up a few inches from the ground. The four looked on in awe as Y/N made the sticks fly through the air. Y/N gritted her teeth as she concentrated, causing the dry leaves to fly into the air into a swirling tornado before dropping back down with a heavy thud.

“Okay. That’s cool” Jake muttered, his tone laced with shock. “Yeah, shit took a lot of practice.” Y/N snorted. “Well, that makes my ability to put thoughts into people's heads and make them do stuff seem pretty lame” Andy huffed, Y/N chuckled and patted his shoulder. “Oh, but don’t worry. I don’t think it works on you guys.” Andy added as he walked up the porch.

Y/N’s eyes scanned Jake as Andy spoke, a nagging thought at the back of her head was telling her that she knew him from somewhere but she couldn’t place exactly where. “Oh, but get this, um, I’ve been practicing. Training my brain, like meditation, right? So now, it’s not just thought I can beam out but images too. Like anything I want. It’s like, bam! People, they see it” Andy exclaimed enthusiastically.

Y/N smiled, shaking her head at him. Sam did the same thing, “This one guy I know, total dick. I- i used it on him” Andy laughed as he explained, pointing to his head. “Gay porn, all hours of the day” Andy told them, everyone looked horrified while Y/N bursted out laughing. “It’s just like- you should’ve seen the look on his face” Andy cackled.

Y/N struggled to catch her breath, her sides were aching from laughing so hard. Even Sam cracked a smile at the story, shaking his head, holding back a snort. Meanwhile everyone else was silent, looking at Andy unamused. “Oh, okay…tough crowd” Andy muttered. “So you go, ‘Simon says give me your wallet’ and they do?” Lily asked bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You two have visions? And you can make fucking tornados out of leaves with your mind? That’s great! I’d kill for something like that!” Y/N’s smile faded at the tone of Lily’s voice, sensing the resentment. “Hey. Watch the tone” She warned, an edge to her voice. Everyone fell silent, the air was tense.

Sam stepped in, not wanting Y/N to shank the chick before they could figure out what’s going on. “Lily, listen. It’s okay” Sam tried to calm her down. “No, it’s not! I touch people, their hearts stop” Lily growled. Everyone’s faces dropped and Y/N now felt bad for getting defensive. “I can barely leave my house. My life’s not exactly improved. So fuck you. I just wanna go home” The bitterness in Lily’s tone was evident.

“And what, we don’t?” Jake chimed in. “You know what, don’t talk to me like that-” Lily turned back to give Jake a piece of her mind. “Hey, guys. Come on, whether we like it or not, we’re all here. And so we all have to deal with this” Sam cut her off. “Who brought us here?” Andy asked. Sam and Y/N shared a horrified look, “It’s less of a who. It’s more of a what” Y/N said lowly.

“What does that mean?” Ava asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s- uh-” Sam gulped, y/n was still fiddling with her charm bracelet on her wrist. “It’s a demon,” Sam finally revealed. Lily rolled her eyes, scoffing in disbelief as the place fell silent again.

____________________________________________

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Dean and Jo found themselves back in South Dakota after Sam and Y/N’s sudden disappearance. Upon knowing it’s somehow connected to a demon, they instantly went to Bobby for help. Now in the salvage yard, Bobby had a map pressed against Baby’s hood as Dean and Jo leaned down to get a look of the map. “This is it. All demonic signs and omens over the past month” Bobby told them.

The duo shot Bobby a questioning look, “You’re joking right? There’s nothing here” Dean scoffed. “Exactly” Bobby shrugged. Their blood pressure skyrocketed. “Come on. There’s gotta be something. I mean, what about the normal, low level stuff?!” Jo exclaimed, “You know, exorcisms, that kind of thing”

“That’s what I’m telling you, idjits. There’s nothing. It’s completely quiet” Bobby pointed out. “Well how are we supposed to look for Sam and Y/N?! What do we just close our eyes and point?!” Dean’s frustration boiled over as he ran a hand over his face. Jo’s phone rang, she eagerly took it out of her pocket, hoping it was Sam or Y/N. Disappointment washed over her when it was just Ash.

“Ash, what do you got?” Jo asked after pressing the answer button, putting the phone on speaker. “Okay, listen, it’s a big negatory on Sam and Cupcake” Ash answered, Dean tried to ignore the burning feeling of agony when Ash called Y/N ‘cupcake’. “Come on, man. You gotta give us something! We’re looking at a 3000-mile haystack here!” Dean bellowed through the speaker.

“Listen, guys, I did find something,” Ash whispered into the phone. “Well, what?” Jo urged him to say, but Ash sounded nervous. “I can’t talk over this line, Jojo.” Ash’s voice cracked. Dean was close to punching a hole in Bobby’s windshield while Jo rolled her eyes. “Come on, we don’t have time for this!” Jo yelled, running a hand through her hair.

“Make time! Okay, because this-…What’s up? What’s going on?” Ash’s words stopped when he saw a Hunter near him. When the hunter walked away, “Not only does this almost definitely help you find Sam and Cupcake, this is…no…It’s huge. So, get here. Now” With the last deathly serious words from Ash, the line went dead.

Jo stared wide eyed at the phone as Dean ran his hand over his face, wiping away the stress sweat beading his forehead. “He can’t be serious,” Dean grumbled. “He is, he definitely is. Ash wouldn’t just fuck around, especially not like this” Jo murmured. Dean sighed heavily, nodding begrudgingly. “I guess we’re going to the Roadhouse. Come on” Dean urged them, hopping into the Impala.

Jo went to follow behind Dean but Bobby stopped her, “Jo” She spun around to face Bobby, “Yeah?” She looked at him in confusion. Bobby reached into his pocket, pulling out a set of keys. The keys to Quinn. “Take Quinn, I’ll take my truck. Y/N’s gonna want her bike when we get her back”

Jo gave him a smile, “Thanks” Jo took the keys and hopped into Y/N’s beloved bike, snapping her helmet on. The engine roared to life as it started in the salvage yard, followed shortly by Baby’s engine revving and then the rumbling of Bobby’s truck engine. The three took off down the road, heading for the Roadhouse.

____________________________________________

Cold Oak, South Dakota

“So we’re soldiers in a demon war to bring on the Apocalypse?!” Jake shouted in disbelief at Sam and Y/N, they gave them the rundown of everything and now everyone was freaking out while Lily was a nervous wreck, biting her nails. “When you put it like that-“

“And- and we’ve been picked?” Jake cut Sam off again. “Yes.” Y/N groaned, playing with her lighter in her thumb. Flicking the flame on and off, it was the only way to stop her from twiddling with her bracelet. Jake was getting on her nerves for some reason and she couldn’t really stand the dude, yet, she couldn’t figure out why, or where she knew him from.

“Why us?” Jake asked again. “We’re not sure. Okay, but look, I just know-” Sam tried to reason with everyone. “Sam. I’m sorry, psychos and spoon bending is one thing. But demons?” Ava interrupted him. Her tone seemed overly croaked, Y/N took note of that. “Look, we know it sounds crazy!” Y/N tried to aid Sam's defense, stuffing her lighter in her pocket. “It doesn’t just sound it” Jake cut her off.

“I don’t really care what you think, okay?!” Y/N snapped. “If we’re all gathered here that means something is starting and that we gotta-!” Jake interrupted her again, “The only thing I gotta do is stay away from wack jobs, okay? I’ve heard enough. I’m better off on my own.” Jake shot back, getting up in her face. Sam’s eye twitched, using his left arm to shield Y/N.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Cool it, man” Sam warned, putting his hand up on Jake’s chest to hold him back as he moved between the two. Jake’s eyes flicked from Y/N to Sam before he took a step back, clenching his jaw before walking away. “Jake. Hold on. Jake!” Sam called out for him but he kept walking.

The thunder in the sky rumbled as the place felt heavy, Y/N’s chest felt heavy as a burning feeling at the back of her neck raised. She gasped, a wince leaving her mouth as she clutched the back of her neck. The last time she felt this, it was nothing good. It only meant one thing.

"Y/N?" Sam's worried tone filled her ears but she was too focused on the burning feeling behind her neck. It felt like thousands of needles stabbing through her skin. “Demon” Everyone’s eyes widened at Y/N’s indication, especially Ava’s. “Jake” Sam muttered before rushing behind Jake. The entire group followed behind him.

Sam eventually made it to a house he saw Jake go into to see a demon in the form of a little girl getting ready to maul Jake. He instantly burst into action, grabbing an iron poker near the door, driving it straight through the demon. It disapparated into a cloud of black smoke, causing everyone to gasp and duck as the cloud bellowed through the door and away.

Jake looked absolutely terrified at what he had just witnessed, “Just so you know. That was a demon” Y/N sassed a wide eyed Jake who was struggling to catch his breath.

“Now that thing, I’m not sure, but I think it was an Acheri. A demon that disguises itself as a little girl” Sam explained, the group of five six now outside the house Jake was nearly killed in. “Still doesn’t tell us where we are,” Y/N muttered. “Andy, you with us or what?” Sam asked. “Give me a minute. I’m still working through ‘demons are real’” Andy said, his voice going up an octave.

A few hours later, the group were standing near a large bell in town square. Y/N immediately recognized the bell, nudging Sam gently, “Look familiar?” She whispered, Sam’s eyes snapped over to the bell. His mouth slightly hanging open, “I think I know where we are now. Cold Oak, South Dakota. A town so haunted, every single resident fled” Sam told the group.

“Swell. Good to know we’re somewhere so historical” Ava said sarcastically. “Why in the world would that demon or whatever put us here?” Lily asked, terrified. “We’re wondering the same thing” Y/N answered. Lily scoffed, biting her nails. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.” She shook her head before turning away.

“Clearly, the only sane thing to do here is get the hell out of Dodge” She began walking away. “Wait, hold on, Lily. The only way out is through miles of woods” Y/N stopped her. “Beats hanging out with demons!” Lily bit back. Y/N clenched her jaw, internally rolled her eyes. “Lily, look, we don’t know what’s going on yet. I mean, we don’t even know how many of them are out there right now” Sam tried to reason.

“Yeah he’s right. We should just-” Jake added in but Lily snapped. “Don’t say we! I’m not part of we. I have nothing in common with any of you!” She screamed. “Okay, look, look. I know that-” Y/N attempted to be tender with her. “You don’t know anything! I-” Lily shouted, her words dying in her throat, the look of despair and grief etched on her face. “I accidentally touched my girlfriend”

Sympathy filled Sam and Y/N, the younger Winchester felt a bit of relation to what Lily experienced due to the events two years prior. The place fell silent again, the only sound audible was the rumbling of thunder. “I’m sorry” Sam apologized, “Whatever. I feel like I’m in a nightmare and it just keeps getting worse and worse” Lily’s face remained stoic but her voice was filled with pain.

“I’ve lost people too. I have a brother out there right now and my gir- um- friend. They could be dead for all we know” Sam’s voice dropped as he spoke. Y/N’s heart sank as Sam mentioned Dean and the thought of him potentially being dead. Especially Jo, she felt like bursting into tears on the spot at the image in her head.

She tried to push the thought out of her head but she was struggling, they’d already lost so much and she couldn’t imagine losing any more. Clearing her throat, she looked at Sam. “We’re all in bad shape.” She spoke softly, “But I’m telling you. We’re telling you, the best way out of this is to stick together” She said gently, offering Lily her hand.

Lily and Y/N locked eyes, neither breaking contact as everyone waited to see if Lily would take Y/N’s hand. After what felt like a century, Lily sighed heavily before reluctantly, taking Y/N’s hand and squeezing it. “Fine.” Lily agreed.

“We’re looking for iron, silver, salt, any kind of weapon” Sam instructed the four. “Salt is a weapon?” Jake gaped. “It’s a brave new world” Y/N snorted. “Well, hopefully there’s food in your world because I’m fucking starving.” Andy grumbled as they all walked up the porch to an old house, preparing to loot it.

“Amen brother.” Y/N snorted in agreement.

____________________________________________

CE, Nebraska

The Impala, Harley and Bobby’s truck pulled into the Roadhouse’s parking lot to see the once standing hunters bar, now in rubble, burnt to the ground. “What the hell?” Dean muttered, his expression turning to a frown. Quinn’s engine came to a halt when Jo saw her former home in rubble, she immediately took the bike off, practically ripping the helmet off of her head.

“No. No. No. No. No!” Jo yelled out in disbelief, she ran over to the crumbled building as Dean and Bobby hopped out of the Impala. “Jo, no!” Dean tried to stop her from going closer. But it was too late.

Jo pushed past the wooden barrier and began sifting through the rubble. She found scraps of leather and torn flannel, her mother’s flannel. Her heart dropped and she felt nauseous. “Oh my God” Bobby muttered, he felt sick to his stomach as he stared down at the charred bodies of fellow hunters.

The worst came to Jo’s mind, the possibility that her mother and Ash were inhere with all of the dead hunters. Jo fell to her knees in the middle of the rubble, her head grew fuzzy as her world began to spin. “Mom?! Ash!? MOMMY?!” Painful sobs tore from her throat, the huntress clutched her stomach, the grief overwhelming her.

First Sam and Y/N disappear, and now the Roadhouse, the only place she had ever called home, was burnt to a crisp with so many loved ones inside. Dean and Bobby exchanged a look, they were at a loss for what to do or even how to make this situation any better. Jo was breaking to pieces in front of them.

“Jo-“ Dean started to speak only to get interrupted by Jo’s sharp tone. “Don’t.” She snapped, “Just- don’t.” Jo looked up at him through tear-filled eyes, hurt etched across her face. “Just help me look f-“ Her words died in her throat as she began digging through the rubble, hoping beyond hope that there was a possibility her mother and Ash survived.

With heavy hearts and without a word, the two men obliged and began searching the pile of wood and rubble with Jo. It only made the whole situation more dire for both of them as each time they moved a piece, the bodies of a hunter or two became exposed. They could only imagine how Jo felt at that moment.

Upon digging up the rubble, Dean’s eyes landed on the charred arm with a familiar watch on. It was Ash. Jo’s head snapped over to Dean when she heard him say. “Oh, Ash. dammit it.” Her tear stricken eyes wide. “No” Jo whispered, her heart clenching in his chest. Bobby was looking at Ash’s watch, his breath hitched. “Fuck” Bobby muttered quietly.

Jo looked back down at the ground, her body numb as Bobby and Dean dug up Ash’s motionless body. It was a sickening sight. She covered her mouth with her hand, tears streaming down her face again. The fact that the last conversation that had over the phone was them yelling at each other tore into her heart.

She pushed herself up from her knees and slowly padded over to them, sinking back onto her knees in-front of one of her last remaining pieces of family. Now deceased. Bobby put a large calloused hand on her shoulder as Dean and Jo looked down at Ash’s body, no one was exactly sure what to say.

There was no consolation for losing someone. It was a feeling they all could relate to. “Jo, I’m so sorry” Bobby’s voice was gruff, the older man’s grief was evident in his voice. “This isn’t fair” She sobbed out, her chin quivering.

“I know. I know” Bobby was at a loss for words again, he had never seen Jo cry like this, not even after her father died, she was more distant when Bill died. It’s as if everything that was trapped in her was now coming out. It was absolutely heart-wrenching.

Dean placed his hand on Jo’s shoulder, rubbing it slowly. He didn’t say anything. Nothing was going to make anything better than it was in that moment so he didn’t even bother. “Mom. We have to find my mom” Jo croaked out, her head still bowed as she clutched onto Ash’s warm charred hand. “She’s not here, kiddo,” Bobby stated.

Jo’s head lifted up, her eyes wide, “What?” It was a quiet sound but it was so loud and filled with hope.

____________________________________________

Cold Oak, South Dakota

Sam and Y/N were in one room, rummaging through the cabinets for any weapons. “You got your butterfly knife?” Sam asked Y/N. She smirked, reaching into her boot. “You know it” She chuckled, flicking the knife open. “No bastard is taking it away from me this time”

Sam nodded in approval, admiring the knife that Y/N had a death grip on. He wasn’t surprised, she’d always liked knives, hell, he’s pretty sure the only reason she loved it so much is because Dean got it for her.

Ava’s groaning behind them caught their attention, “Hey. You alright, hun?” Y/N asked her softly as the fellow female psychic clutched her forehead. “Yeah. I’m just-…I don’t know. A little dizzy” Ava croaked, holding her head, she seemed to be in pain but to Y/N it looked like she was concentrating on something. Similar to the way Y/N was whenever she manifested her telekinetic abilities.

Sam’s brows furrowed in concern, “Are you sure it’s not some kind of-” Ava cut him off. “What? Some kind of freaky vision thing?” Ava scoffed. “No. More like, I’d kill for a sandwich. I haven’t eaten since-…Well, who knows” She sighed, this made the duo feel sympathetic towards her. “No, it’s- don’t worry. I’m fine, except for every single thing that’s happening” She assured them with a faux smile of enthusiasm.

Y/N and Sam chuckled awkwardly at her tone., “Hey guys, I found something!” Andy called out to them from downstairs. The three made their way down the dirty steps to see Andy next to Jake, holding up two bags with a wide grin. “Salt” Andy almost giggled proudly. “That’s great, Andy. Now we all can s-” Sam’s words died in his throat when he realized someone was missing.

“Where’s Lily?” He asked urgently. Everyone’s faces dropped. “Lily?!” Y/N called out for her in the house but there was no response. “LILY?!” Sam bellowed, his throat rasping, sounding quite similar to Dean. It surprised Y/N and made her flinch slightly along with Ava. Y/N hissed as the heat behind her neck raised and pricked at her skin, this alerted Sam.

The sound of a little girl giggling and Y/N’s sensory going off indicated that there were demons around. The group rushed outside to see Lily hanging from the windmill across the house, dead. “Oh my, God” Ava gasped theratically, placing a hand over her mouth in faux disgust. Y/N’s heart sank at the sight of the broken girl hanging off of the windmill like an animal.

“Okay, that’s officially- Sam! Y/N! She’s dead, she’s dead!” Ava sobbed. “You two said we were chosen for a reason. That is not chosen. That’s…killed!” She continued to ramble as everyone had their eyes locked on Lily’s corpse. “Okay, no. We have to get out of here” Ava insisted, trying to push past Sam. “Stop” He held her back. “Yeah, I second that emotion” Andy murmured.

“Not sure that’s an option” Jake said, shaking his head. “What?!” Ava exclaimed. “Lily was trying to leave. The demon’s not gonna let us get away that easy.” Y/N explained. “We gotta gear up for the next attack” Sam said determinedly. “Oh, gear up?” Ava scoffed. “Yeah,” Sam nodded. “Okay, well, I’m not a soldier. I can’t do that!”

Y/N rolled her eyes at Ava’s words, “Look, if you wanna stay alive, you’re gonna have to!” She snapped at Ava who had tears welling up in her eyes, but Ava didn’t look genuinely terrified. “Let’s go,” Sam pointed to the house, instructing everyone to go inside. Ava was first to run in, whimpering as she entered. “I’ll get her down,” Jake said.

Y/N sighed heavily, her mind running on Dean and Jo. “You know, I’m just thinking about how much Dean and Jo would help right now” Y/N said to Sam and Andy, stuffing her hands in her leather jacket’s pocket. “Yeah, I’d give my arm for a working phone” Sam agreed, “You know, you make not need one” Andy suddenly said, this made their heads snap over to him.

“I, uh, I’ve never tried it long distance before. But, do you have anything of Dean’s on you? Like something he touched?” Andy asked them, Sam frowned, shaking his head. Y/N patted her pockets down, frowning and she came up with nothing. “No, nothing” Y/N sighed. A flicker of frustration passed behind Sam’s eyes, he rubbed his palm against his face.

A thought popped into Y/N’s head, “I’m wearing some of his shirts, would that work?” She asked Andy. Andy nodded, “Yeah, that might work” He murmured. Y/N swiftly pulled off her leather jacket, revealing one of Dean’s flannels that he’d let her borrow a few nights prior paired with his Led Zeppelin shirt she claimed as her own weeks ago.

Y/N shoved the leather jacket in Sam’s hands, “Hold this” She told him. He took it without a word, his eyes locked on the flannel that was draped across her arms. Y/N handed it to Andy, who took it and held the sleeve in his hands, closing his eyes to concentrate.

____________________________________________

CE, Nebraska

“This is-” Bobby murmured as he, Jo and Dean walked off of the burnt to crisp Roadhouse’s rubble. “What the hell did Ash know? We got know clue what Ash was gonna tell us. Now how the fuck are we gonna find Sam and Y/N!?” Dean shouted in frustration as they headed back to their vehicles.

“And we got no way of knowing where my mom is or if-” Jo’s voice cracked, her nostrils flaring as fresh tears spilled from her eyes and down her cheeks. Her mascara smudged from earlier. “Jo, hey. I know it’s scary-” Bobby started. “Scared?” Jo’s voice was strained and hoarse, she was barely speaking above a whisper.

“Yeah. I’m scared, you know why? Cause I don’t know if my mom’s dead or alive. And if Sam and Y/N are okay?” She snapped. Dean stopped and looked back at her, his eyes locking on hers, which were now bloodshot. “Hey, we will find them. And your mom” He tried to comfort her.

Dean suddenly buckled over, clutching his head as a splitting migraine shot through his head. “Dean?” Bobby and Jo called out for him in unison as he grunted, “Fuck!” Dean groaned, clutching into Baby’s hood. “You alright, dude?” Jo asked, rushing over to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. Dean groaned again against the throbbing pain shooting through his head.

“Yeah” He hissed, pushing himself to a standing position, he pushed his hair back away from his forehead. The migraine intensified. Then suddenly he saw an image of a bell appear in his head. “What was that?” Jo asked, confused. “I don’t know. Headache” Dean gritted his teeth in pain as Jo placed the back of his hand to his forehead.

“You get headaches like that a lot?” Bobby asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “No.” Dean gasped out as Jo took her hand off of his forehead, his chest was heaving as he struggled for breath. “Must be the stress” He said breathlessly with a weak chuckle and wiping his forehead. “I could’ve sworn I saw something”

Bobby and Jo’s brows skyrocketed, a look of recognition took over Bobby’s face. “What do you mean, like- like a vision? Like what Sam and Y/N get?” Bobby asked. “What?! No!” Dean exclaimed. “I’m just saying” Bobby put his hands up in surrender. “Come on, I’m not some psychic. I don’t have that ESP shit” Right after those words left Dean’s mouth, he buckled over in pain again.

Clutching his forehead. “Dean!” Bobby and Jo exclaimed as Dean almost fell to the ground. Bobby rushed over to his side of the Impala, helping Jo in keeping him on his feet. The image of the bell again with Sam and Y/N flashed through his head again, Dean was practically clutching his pearls as he grunted from the shooting migraine.

Dean Winchester never felt pain like that in his life, and to be quite Frank, if this is what y/n and Sam felt when they had visions. He felt sorry for them for having to go through this pain. Now he gets why y/n was always so snappy whenever she had her own migraines. They must’ve been worse than Sam’s.

“Are you okay?! What was that, you see something again?” Jo exclaimed as he stood back up after a few moments, panting as he tried to catch his breath. “You with us?” Bobby exclaimed in worry. “Yeah, I think so,” Dean groaned. “I saw Y/N and Sam. I saw them, guys” Dean tried to explain, the migraine still pounding in his head. “It was a vision” Jo murmured in shock.

“Yeah. I don’t know how. But, yeah. Ugh” Dean huffed, breathing heavily as he steadied himself. “That was about as fun as getting kicked in the jewels” Dean weakly chuckled. “What else did you see?” Bobby asked urgently. “Uh….There was a bell” Dean answered. “What kind of bell?” Jo asked, narrowing her eyes. “Uh, like a b-big bell with…uh…some kind of engraving on it, I don’t know,” Dean told them.

Bobby and Jo shared an alarmed look, “Engraving? Was it a tree? Like an oak tree” Bobby asked. Dean’s brows furrowed at them, “Yeah, exactly.” He confirmed. Jo and Bobby exchanged a knowing and alarmed look. “I know where they are”

____________________________________________

Cold Oak, South Dakota

Sam, Y/N and Jake were now chipping away at a steel tank with rocks, trying to break away any bars from it to use as weapons. Jake got tired and suddenly ripped out one of the bars, shocking both Sam and Y/N. “Awesome” Y/N muttered in awe, now wishing she had that ability. Sam’s brows raised in Jake's direction.

The army vet cleared his throat, “I’m- I’m not Superman or anything. It’s no big deal” He chuckled, shooting Y/N a sly wink. “You were in Afghanistan when this started?” Y/N asked curiously, a coy smile playing on her face. Her vibe with Jake was still off, but she figured you catch more flies with honey rather than vinegar.

So being sweet was her go to in order to find out how and where she knew Jake from. “Yeah, I started getting headaches. And then, uh…there was this accident. This guy flipped his vehicle on a bad road. He got pinned underneath. I lifted it off him like it was nothing” Jake explained as Sam and Y/N listened. “Everybody said it was a fluke adrenaline thing-”

“But then you did it again, right?” Sam asked knowingly, “Bench press 800 pounds stone-cold calm” Jake snorted. Sam and Y/N chuckled at this, “I never told anymore of course. It’s just too crazy” Jake admitted, cracking a smile. “Yeah, but crazy’s relative” Sam mused, nudging Y/N in her arm. “I’m starting to get that,” Jake said.

“Yeah” Y/N sighed, the two shared a lingering eye contact, a small smile gracing Y/N’s face. Jake returned the smile. There was an intimate silence between the three as they continued to chip away at the tank. The sound of rocks against metal echoed in the empty room, a sign that they were making some solid progress.

“By the way. I, uh- I appreciate what you two are doing here” Jake said honestly. “What are we doing?” Y/N asked, tilting her head in confusion. “Keeping calm. Keeping them calm.” Jake answered, referring to the other psychics. “Especially considering how freaked to hell you guys really are” Jake called them out.

Sam and Y/N shared a knowing look, knowing that they couldn't hide their growing fear from him. “Is it that obvious?” She questioned jokingly, although the question was somewhat serious. “Yeah” Jake chuckled.

“I’ve been in some deep shit before myself, sweetheart. I know the look” Jake said seriously to them. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as his words. She shook it off and pushed her focus back on the task at hand.

But Sam opened up, “You wanna know the truth? I got this brother, right? He’s always saying how he’s gonna watch out for me, watch out for y/n. Watch out for the both of us, how everything’s gonna be okay, kind of like I’m telling them” Sam swallowed the lump in his throat.

Tears pricked the corners of Y/N’s eyes, her heart ached at the mention of Dean. Knowing that he’d be beating himself up and freaking out for her and Sam as well. “Yeah?” Jake hummed. “But the fact of the matter is, I don’t know if I believe it this time,” Sam confessed. Y/N wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him into her side, resting her head against her his shoulder.

Jake nodded at Sam, understanding and sympathising with him. “What do you mean ‘you don’t believe it’?” The army veteran asked. A beat of silence passed as the two siblings shared a look. “I mean, the size of what’s coming…it’s bigger than anyone’s ever seen. I mean, it’s gonna get bad. And I- I don’t know if-” Sam stammered, trying not to cry as Y/N stroked his back comfortingly.

“If you’re gonna make it?” Jake cut in. “Doesn’t matter if we believe. Only matters that they do.” Jake stated firmly. Sam’s head went to the ground, “Y-yeah” He agreed. Y/N kept patting and rubbing his back in comfort, she tried to keep her tears from streaming down her face as she bit her quivering bottom lip.

The three continued to chip away at the tank in an awkward silence as the room echoed with the loud sound of rocks smacking against metal.

The group were lining the windows and doors with salt, Sam and Y/N were tired from all the hammering so they sat at a table in comfortable silence. “You know, my horoscope said I shouldn’t have gotten out of bed” Ava chuckled dryly as she rested the empty salt bag next to Y/N. The two hunters sighed deeply.

“How are you guys doing? Holding up?” Ava asked them softly. The two nodded, “I’m okay” Sam assured her. “Me too” Y/N responded. “What about you, hun?” She asked Ava. “Not so okay.” Ava admitted, chucking dryly. “Why us, guys? What did we do to deserve this?” Ava asked them, tears pricking at her eyes. “Just lucky I guess,” Sam scoffed.

“Wasn't for bad luck, wouldn’t have no luck at all” Ava snorted as thunder rumbled outside. “I just can’t wait for all this to be over so I can just pretend it never happened.” Ava sighed, looking up to the ceiling. “I just wanna curl up with Brady and watch bad TV” she smiled, Sam and Y/N’s hearts dropped at this. They forgot they hadn’t mentioned that Brady was dead.

Their expressions changed and Ava seemed to notice, “What is it?” She asked them. But they both shook their heads. “Sam, Y/N” Ava pressed. “Do you guys…know something that I don’t?” She asked. Their hearts ached for her, but the words were on the tip of their tongue. They wanted to break the news to her gently, but there was no easy way to say it. Sam and Y/N shared a look, neither one of them wanted to have this conversation with Ava.

“Look, Ava. I’m sorry, I wish I didn’t have to tell you this” Sam began sorrowfully. “Tell me what?” Ava’s voice dropped. Y/N sighed, taking Ava’s hand into hers. “When the demon…broke into your house to take you…your fiancé didn’t make it, I’m sorry” Y/N finally revealed. Ava’s face dropped in shock, her eyes widened in horror as she stared at them.

“No, it’s-?” She whispered, she seemed to be in a state of denial of the news. Ava threw herself into Sam and Y/N’s arms, sobbing painfully. Y/N and Sam held her as she sobbed into their shoulders, they comforted her, rubbing her back as she got it all out.

It was getting late, everyone was tired. Jake was standing guard while Andy was fast asleep on a table and Ava looked distant. Sam was trying to get some shut eye, his head resting on Y/N’s lap as he struggled to get to sleep. “Would you like me to sing you a lullaby, Sammy?” Y/N teased, snorting in amusement.

Sam rolled his eyes playfully and chuckled, “Shut up, Y/N/N” He grumbled in annoyance, opening his eyes to glare at her but there was no heat behind it. Sam chuckled lightly before his face turned serious, “Are you gonna get some sleep as well? You need it” He questioned. “Nah, you go ahead, I’m good” Y/N shook her head.

Sam pursed his lips and hummed, knowing that she was lying. “I’m serious, I’m alright” She told him firmly, sensing the worry in his eyes. “Come on, you’re exhausted, you should get some sleep” Sam pushed, sitting up to look at her.

Y/N rolled her eyes, shaking her head again. She wasn’t gonna admit it, but she was tired. Her head throbbed and her cheek still slightly stung from Sam’s punch to her face 24 hours earlier. “I’m fine, Sa- JAKE!” Y/N exclaimed when her eyes glanced over to see a man, his eyes glowing yellow standing behind Jake.

Sam’s head snapped in the direction. “Jake! Behind you!” He tried to warn Jake but he didn’t seem to hear him. “Howdy, Sammy. Howdy, Y/N/N” Azazel smirked, leaning against the wall. Y/N’s heart began racing, her worst nightmare was coming to life. The yellow eyed demon who killed her mother was once again in front of her, and she was scared shitless.

Sam was on the same boat as her. But they weren't gonna show it.

Their chests heaved as they put two and two together as to why no one else can hear them. “We’re dreaming” Y/N gasped as she and Sam backed into the wall, still sitting by the window still. Azazel chuckled darkly, “Why don’t you say…we all take a little walk?” He ordered, leaning off the wall to move closer to them.

Sam and Y/N shared a look, knowing that they didn’t have a choice. So they stood up, never breaking eye contact with Azazel as they did. He gestured with his hand for them to follow him outside so they did just that.

Sam and Y/N were practically glued to each other's side as Azazel took the lead, walking out the house with them. “You’re awfully quiet Sam and Y/N. You guys aren’t mad at me, are ya?” Azazel mused. Y/N was glaring daggers at the back of the demon's head along with Sam who was trying his best to keep it together.

“I’m gonna tear you to shreds. I swear” Sam growled. Azazel just laughed in response. Azazel continued to chuckle, which made Y/N’s blood boil. “When you wake up, tiger, take your best shot” Azazel laughed. Sam bared his teeth, gritting them together as he clenched his fists. “You find this funny, dickbreath?!” Y/N snapped.

Azazel spun on his heel, a mockingly shocked expression on his face. “Y/N, that’s no way for a lady to talk!” Azazel exclaimed in fake shock. “I’d call you a lot worse things than that, jackass” Y/N snarled through gritted teeth. “Where’s my brother and Jo?” Sam clenched his jaw. “Quit worrying about Dean and your little bimbo. I’d worry more about yourselves”

Azazel’s words sent a chill down Y/N’s spine, she didn’t like the sound of that. “What, you gonna kill us?” Sam challenged, his fear diminishing each second. “Hit us with your best shot, cunt” Y/N snarked as she and Sam opened their arms out mockingly. “That a dare?” Azazel challenged, a dark look in his eyes.

The two of them smirked, “You bet your ass” Y/N and Sam affirmed in unison. Azazel narrowed his eyes on them. “I’m trying to help you two. That's why we’re talking. Truth be told, I think it’s gonna come down to you two.” Their blood ran cold, all color from their faces drained at his words. “W-what’s that supposed to mean?” Sam’s voice shook with fear.

“Welcome to the Miss America Pageant. Why do you think you’re here? This is a competition” Azazel revealed to them, putting up a finger. “Only one of you crazy kids is gonna make it out of her alive.” His words hit them like a truck. Their eyes widened as they stared at him, their breathing quickened as they tried to wrap their heads around what he was saying. “I thought we were supposed to be-” Y/N stammered.

“Soldiers in a coming war? That’s true. You are. But here’s the thing.” Azazel confirmed, placing up a finger to lean in for only them to hear, even though there’s no one around. “I need soldier” His voice dropped, “I just need the one” Sam and Y/N’s hearts dropped in their stomachs, dread filling their eyes as their mouths went dry.

They didn’t like the sound of this one bit. “Why?” Sam croaked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Well, I couldn’t just come out and say that, could I? I had to let everyone think they had a fighting chance” Azazel smirked as Sam and Y/N stared at him horrified. “But what I need….is a leader”

“To lead who?” Y/N snapped, “Oh, I’ve already got my army. Or…I will soon, anyway” Azazels gaze darkened as he spoke. “You sick son of a bitch” Sam growled, “Honestly, I’m surprised you two hadn’t guessed. I mean, why do you think so many children flame out already?” The demon chuckled, pacing slowly in front of them.

“Max Miller and Andy’s brother, what’s his name? They weren’t strong enough. I’m looking for the best and brightest of your generation” Y/N was seeing red, she wanted to knock the smarmy look right off his face. “Our generation” Sam asked, his tone dripping with anger, Y/N’s body started to shake with equal anger.

Azazel nodded, “Well…there’s other generations. But let’s just worry about yours” he chuckled, making her blood boil. “That’s why I’m here, I wanna give you guys the inside track.” Azazel stated, walking closer to them. “You two are tough, smart, well-trained. Thanks to your daddies.”

Y/N bared her teeth, “Don’t you bring my father into this!” She seethed through gritted teeth. Azazel chuckled at her, “Touchy, touchy” he teased, making Sam and Y/N’s eyes twitch in anger. “Sam. Sammy. Y/N. Y/N/N. You’re my favorites.” Azazel’s voice dropped as he spoke. “You ruined our lives. You killed everyone I love” Sam’s nostrils flared, the words leaving his mouth with pure distaste.

“The cost of doing business I’m afraid” Azazel whispered. “I mean…sweet little Jessica. She just had to die. You were all set to marry that little blonde thing. Become a tax lawyer with two kids, a beer gut and a McMansion in the suburbs.” Sam’s eyes further darkened with each word the demon spoke, Y/N was ready to maul the son of a bitch.

“I needed you two sharp, on the road, honing your skills….your gifts. If anything, you should be thanking me. Or else, you wouldn’t have met your little bimbo, Jo” A dark smirk graced the demon's face.Y/N’s entire face went red in anger, she felt her fingers begin to burn. “Don’t you bring Jo into this either!” Y/N hissed, taking a step forward but was held back by Sam’s arm in front of her.

Azazel chuckled at her, the sick bastard was enjoying getting under Y/N and Sam’s skin. Sam was clenching his jaw so tightly, Y/N was worried he would grind his teeth to nubs. “Don’t you say a word about her” he growled in warning, the venom in his voice making Azazel chuckle darkly.

“What are you, a little defensive? A little protective?” Azazel questioned, cocking his mockingly. Sam’s eyes narrowed as he pushed Y/N behind him, taking a step forward, he was now nearly toe to toe with the demon. “You don’t get to talk about her.” He snarled, his hands curling into fists at his side.

“Not when you killed our moms!” Y/N snapped, tip toeing to shout over Sam’s shoulder. “That was bad luck,” Azazel grinned. “Bad luck?” Sam scoffed. “They walked in on me. Wrong place, wrong time” Azazel sighed. “What the fuck does that mean?” Y/N scoffed. “It wasn’t about them. It was about you and you. It's always been” Azazel pointed to them individually.

“What?” Sam and Y/N croaked in unison. “Okay. You caught me in a charitable mood. I’ll show you” Azazel smirked, snapping his fingers.

Y/N gasped as she opened her eyes. She was no longer next to Sam, he was out of sight and the yellow-eyed demon stood next to her. Her eyes widened as she took in the unfamiliar surroundings. It was a nursery. Her nursery. “Look familiar? It should” Azazel whispered into her ear. “Sam?! Sammy?!” Y/N panicked, looking around for him.

Y/N’s eyes were filled with panic when she couldn’t find Sam, a lump was starting to form in her throat. She gasped when her eyes landed on a baby crib with a baby in it. It was her, as a baby. Y/N couldn’t think straight as she tried to take in the surroundings.

Azazel placed a hand on her shoulder, his fingers pressing down on her shoulder as she watched her younger self in the crib. Her jaw clenched when she saw a hooded figure walk into the nursery and pad over to her crib. Y/N instantly went to attack but Azazel pulled her back.

“Relax, Y/N. This is just a hi-def instant replay. Enjoy the show” Azazel said. Y/N snatched the demon by his collar and sent his back barreling into the wall. “Where’s Sam, motherfucker?!” Y/N shouted, her eyes narrowing to slits at Azazel, pure rage fueling through her veins.

Y/N was shaking with anger as she pinned the demon to the wall, her fist curled in his collar. Azazel let out a dark chuckle as he was shoved against the wall, his hands gripped her wrist, trying to pry her off of him. “You’re feisty” he taunted, an amused smirk on his face.

Y/N bared her teeth at him, “Answer me! Where is he?! WHERE’S MY BROTHER?!” She yelled. “Relax, your precious Sammy is safe” He reassured her, although there was a hint of smugness in his tone. Azazel’s words didn’t relax her in the slightest. Instead, Y/N just got angrier. “I don’t believe a word that comes out of your lying, demonic mouth” she seethed, pressing harder into his collar.

The yellow-eyed demon chuckled, he found her anger to be adorable. “Relax, my dear. We have a surprise guest” he cooed, nodded his head in the direction behind her. Y/N’s heart was seconds away from falling out of her chest when she saw her mother’s sleepy face appear in the doorway.

She wore a black nightgown that nearly reached the floor, squinting her eyes at the figure hovering over her crib. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she watched a younger version of her own mother, “F/N?” Her mom’s sleepy voice croaked. “Momma?” Y/N’s grip loosened on the demon's collar, turning to face the door where M/N stood.

“Is she hungry?” M/N asked the figure, thinking it was her husband. A six-month old Y/N was crying in her crib. “Shhh” The figure shushed baby Y/N, “Okay” M/N shrugged, not realizing that it was in fact a demon standing over her babygirl’s crib. “No! Mom!” Y/N gasped, her eyes glued to the scene. She wanted to cry out to her mother to run but she found herself frozen in place.

Her mother, completely unsuspecting what was actually happening, slowly turned and padded out of the room. Y/N felt like her heart was breaking in her chest as she watched her mother turn and leave, “No…momma” she whispered, her voice cracking as tears began to sting her eyes. “What did I just tell you, Y/N, she can’t hear you. This isn’t real” Azazel scoffed.

“Watch closely” he whispered in her ear. “Shut the fuck up before I gut you” Y/N snapped, her eyes glancing back to the crib. Her mouth dropped open when she saw the demon cut his wrist open over younger self and allowed his blood to drop into her mouth. “What the fuck are you doing to me?” She gasped, her stomach beginning to churn.

“Better than mother’s milk,” Azazel chuckled. Y/N felt like she was going to be sick, her stomach did backflips as she watched as her infant self drank the demon blood. “Does this mean I have- does this mean Sam has-“ Y/N couldn’t get the words out. Azazel chuckled at her horrified expression. “Oh, it’s not so bad. Sam has it too” he smirked. “We have demon blood in us!?”

Suddenly, M/N ran back into the room. Causing Y/N’s head to snap over to her direction. “It’s you” M/N gasped at the figure, “She knew you” Y/N realized. Her mom’s eyes flashed white, she extended her arm, her veins lighting up a darker shade of blue compared to how Y/N’s would normally glow. With a tilt of her head, she sent Azazel barreling into the wall.

“Mom!” Y/N gasped, watching the scene in front of her. The pain potent in her voice. Her jaw dropped when she saw her mother’s fingertips turn blue- and then push a full-grown man into a wall as if he was nothing more than a small child. She’d never seen her mom using her powers before. It was like a dream.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Feisty mama” Azazel grunted, recovering from being slammed into the wall. He stood up, straightening out his suit, “Bravo” He clapped his hands together in mock applause, although Y/N could tell there was a hint of annoyance in his tone.

M/N rushed over to the crib, her eyes scanning over younger Y/N’s body, checking for any injury. “No!!” Y/N screamed when Azazel's younger self waved his hand in a swift motion and M/N’s back hit the wall. She began grunting as she slid upwards and towards the ceiling. A strangled cry left Y/N’s throat as she watched her mother hit the wall and begin to lift off the ground.

A pained gasp leaving M/N’s throat to show the amount of pressure being put on her body. “I don’t think you wanna see the rest of this” Azazel smirked before waving his hand in the air.

“Y/N!! Sam!!” The two gasped awake to see Andy and Jake standing in front of them. Sam shot up from his position on Y/N’s lap. “Ava’s missing” Jake told them, his tone filled with concern. Sam and Y/N were both disoriented, still trying to piece together what they saw. “What do you mean missing?” Y/N asked, her heart thudding in her chest.

Jake’s face was filled with dread as he spoke, “She’s gone. Just vanished” he explained. “Fuck!” Y/N exclaimed, pulling her knife out of her boot before rushing out the house. Sam and Jake followed behind her after telling Andy to stay at the house in case Ava came back.

Sam was still trying to piece together the fragments of his vision as he and Y/N both burst out of the house. Jake was practically on his heels behind them. “I’ll take the barn and the hotel, you guys take the houses” Jake said to them. “Alright, meet back here in 10 minutes, okay?” Sam responded. “Okay” Jake nodded before heading in the other direction.

Not even five minutes had gone by and the sounds of Ava’s terrified screams came from inside the house they were originally in. Their gazes both went to the house as they heard Ava’s scream coming from inside. “Ava!” Y/N yelled out, her heart thumping in her chest. Before Sam could say anything, Y/N was already rushing towards the house.

Sam cursed under his breath as he saw Y/N run into the house. He quickly ran after her, just as desperate to get to Ava. With heavy feet, the two hunters followed to the sound of her scream to see Ava sobbing over a now deceased Andy’s body. Her face smeared with his blood, the former psychic bleeding from claw marks on his chest.

A strangled gasp left Sam’s throat at the sight of Andy’s lifeless body laying on the floor. Y/N’s blood ran cold at the sight, her eyes going from Andy’s body to Ava, who was sobbing uncontrollably over his body. “Sam! Y/N! I just found him like this!”

“What happened?” Y/N asked, clutching his stomach with a hand. “I don’t know” Ava sobbed. “How the fuck did the bastard get in?” Y/N snarled as she checked every salt line, knowing a demon had done it by the burning energy she felt radiating off of Andy’s body and the room. She was able to feel it since the death was quite recent.

Y/N peeled back the window to see a salt line was perfectly broken. Her jaw clenched as the worst possible reason came to mind. She nudged Sam, pointing to the salt line. Sam swallowed the lump in his throat as he looked at the broken salt line on the window, a wave of anger washed over him as all the pieces finally clicked in his head.

“Son of a…” he swore, his hands clenched into fists at his side. They gave each other a firm nod, communicating with their eyes before turning to Ava. “Ava, where were you?” Sam snapped. “I just went to get some water from the well. I was only gone for maybe like two minutes” Ava sobbed, quite overdramatically.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at her, “Who did that?” She pointed to the broken salt line. “I don’t know! Maybe Andy-” Ava cried, her eyes filling with tears as Y/N questioned her. Sam glanced at Y/N, she clearly had doubts about Ava too. “Andy wouldn’t do that.” Sam snapped again. “Ava. That line wasn’t broken when we left” Y/N stated, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What? You don’t think I-?” Ava asked, her tone suddenly very defensive. Y/N raised her eyebrows, Ava’s tone only added to her suspicions. Sam cut her off again, “I’ll tell you what we think. Five months. You’re the only one with all that time you can’t account for” Sam stated in an accusatory tone.

“But that headache you got, when the demon got Lily” Y/N growled as she moved closer to have. “What are you trying to say?” Ava’s voice cracked. “What happened to you?” Sam narrowed his eyes at Ava. “Nothing!” Ava screamed insistently through tears. But Sam and Y/N didn’t believe her or her act.

“Bullshit!” Y/N snapped, her patience with Ava running thin. Ava’s eyes suddenly darkened, a dark laugh leaving her throat as she wiped away the faux-tear from her eye. “I had you guys going though, didn’t I?” She chuckled, as she continued to wipe away her tears. “Yeah” She confirmed, flicking away the tears from her fingers.

“I’ve been here a long time. And not alone, either. People just keep showing up. Children, like us.” Sam and Y/N’s stomachs dropped at the change in Ava’s demeanor, it was clearly a complete switch up from how she was acting only moments before. Their eyes remained glued on her, every muscle of their bodies tensed, preparing to strike if she made the first move.

“Batches of three or four at a time.” Ava smirked. “You killed them? All of them?” Sam’s tone dropped, the disbelief clear in his voice. “I’m the undefeated heavyweight champion” Ava smirked, her time braggy. “Oh my god” Y/N scoffed in disbelief, shaking her head. “Don’t think God has much to do with that, Y/N” Ava whispered.

“How could you?” Sam gaped, “I had no choice. It was me or them. After a while, it was easy” Ava shrugged as if it was nothing. “It was even kind of fun.” Y/N narrowed her eyes as Ava’s words, allowing her arms to drop to her sides. “You wanna know what’s gonna be fun, bitch? When I rip you limb from limb”

Ava chuckled, her eyes narrowing, “You think you can take me?” She asked, smirking. “I’ll bet I can,” Y/N growled. Sam shot Y/N a quick look, silently begging her to be smart. As skilled as Y/N was, he didn’t want her to get hurt.

“It’ll only be a fair fight when you stop fighting it” Ava whispered with a cocky grin. “Fighting what?” Sam asked as he swallowed harshly. “Who we are, Sam. If you just quit your hand-wringing and open yourself up, you have no idea what you can do” Ava exclaimed, her eyes flickering back over to Y/N.

“I can see you’re almost there” She smirked at her. Sam’s mind was racing at Ava’s words, what did she mean by ‘open up, who they are’? And what could Y/N be almost to? These questions were racing through his mind as he clenched and unclenched his fists with nervousness. Y/N was thinking all the same things.

“The learning curve is so fast, it’s crazy. The switches that just flip in your brain” Ava explained, snapping her fingers before bursting into laughter. “I can’t believe I started out just having dreams” She laughed. “Do you know what I can do now?” Y/N felt a splitting migraine form in her head again, but she ignored it, clenching her jaw.

“Control demons” Y/N snapped, clutching her head. “Ah…you guys are quick on the draw” Ava snorted before placing her fingers to her temples, silently concentrating. Both Sam and Y/N were both still reeling at all the things Ava had told them when suddenly, a black cloud came through the window and through the salt like.

Y/N felt not only the migraine attack her but behind her neck was burning, causing her to stumble back a few steps. Her hand instantly went to her temple as she groaned softly. “I’m sorry guys but, it’s over” Ava smirked. Sam and Y/N glared at her, Sam held up his iron poker and Y/N held up her iron butterfly knife, still clutching her head.

Jake then appeared behind Ava, the army vet pulled her into his chest before swiftly snapping her neck. Y/N’s head was spinning at Ava’s words as her vision began to blur. But she was snapped out of it when she heard the sound of Ava’s neck being snapped. She stumbled slightly backwards, a wave of relief washing over her at the sight of Jake holding Ava.

But her relief was short-lived when her vision suddenly began to blur. “What the-“ Y/N whispered as her knees began to buckle. Sam noticed her sudden stumble backwards, his eyes going wide at the sight of her legs starting to buckle. “Y/N!” He called out, rushing over to her.

He caught her before she completely lost her balance, wrapping an arm around her waist tightly while his other hand came up to her face, gently shaking her face. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s over. I’ve got you” Y/N let out a small groan in response as she blinked her eyes open. But the pain in her head wasn’t going away, it was pounding so hard against her skull she felt like passing out.

“God, my head…” she mumbled softly while weakly grasping Sam’s hand against her face.

The Impala, Harley and Bobby’s truck pulled up the town of Cold Oak. All hunters got out of their respective vehicles and headed to the trunk of Baby. “Looks like the rest of the way is on foot.” Bobby stated as Dean opened the trunk and everyone took out their needed weapons. “Let’s go” Dean said, determined as he cocked his gun.

Sam was helping a very delirious Y/N out of the house as Jake followed behind them. “I’m fine, Sam. You can let go now” She assured Sam who was still holding her up. “Yeah, no chance in hell. You look like shit, dude” Sam grunted as he continued to hold her. He knew she was a stubborn woman so she was going to say that she’s fine when in reality, she’s actually not.

So he ignored her and continued to hold her up, he knew she needed it. Y/N didn’t even bother trying to argue with Sam, she knew he wouldn’t let up. She felt like if he wasn’t currently supporting her weight, she would probably be on the ground. Her headache from hell wasn’t going away, she now had a sore ass headache, and was on the verge of collapsing from fatigue.

“I think we can make it out of here now” Sam told Jake. “But the Acheri demon-“ Jake started. “No, no, no. Ava was summoning it, controlling it. It shouldn’t come back now that she’s dead, we gotta go” Y/N told him as they walked down the porch, “Not we, Y/N” Jake suddenly said in a dark tone. Sam and Y/N stopped in their tracks, turning to face Jake.

“Only one of us is getting out of here. I’m sorry” Jake shook his head. Y/N and Sam stared at him in surprise, neither of them were expecting him to say that. “Excuse me?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “What?” Sam gaped. “I-I had a vision. That Yellow-Eyes demon or whatever it was. He talked to me. He told me how it was”

“No, no, no, no, no, Jake. You can’t listen to him” Sam pleaded with him, “Sam, Y/N, he’s not letting us go! Only one. Now, if we don’t play along here, he’ll kill us all.” Jake pointed out. Y/N peeled herself from Sam and forcefully stood on both her feet. “Now, I like you guys, I do. And y/n, you’re very easy on the eyes. But do the math here. What good’s it gonna do for all of us to die?”

Sam and Y/N shared an unease look, the female psychic swaying on her feet. “Now, I can get out of her. I get close to the demon. I can kill the bastard” Jake offered an ultimatum. “You come with us, we can kill him together” Y/N countered his offer, “How do I know you guys won’t turn on me?” Jake narrowed his eyes on them. “We won’t!” Sam insisted.

“I don’t know that” Jake shook his head, unsure. Sam and Y/N became uneasy. “Okay, look” Y/N held her hands up, taking out her butterfly knife from her jacket. Sam shot her a nervous look as she flicked up open, raised it to the air and placed it on the ground. Showing Jake that they meant no harm.

Jake watched how Y/N dropped her weapon, eyeing it on the ground for a moment before slowly glancing back up at her and Sam. Y/N locked eyes with him, trying to communicate that they wouldn’t do anything to him. “Just come with us, Jake. Don’t do this. Don’t play into what it wants.” Sam pleaded softly, still watching him closely.

Jake nodded before slowly bending down to place his wrench. Sam and Y/N let out sighs of relief before cheapshotting them both, uppercutting Sam and Y/N simultaneously. The hunters grunted harshly as they flew a few feet up into the air and into a wooden fence.

The breath was knocked out of Y/N as she slammed into the fence, she laid there for several moments as she gasped for air. Her chest was burning as she inhaled sharp breaths, her ears ringing. She slowly sat up, blinking slowly as another wave of dizziness came over her, she gripped the wooden fence for support and tried to see where Sam was.

She finally spotted him, he laid a few feet away. He was moving around, letting her know that he was still awake. She slowly started making her way over to him, her vision was a little hazy but she was able to crawl over to him and put a shaking hand on him.

Jake stalked towards them, his feet heavy. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as he walked towards them, she quickly pulled Sam closer to her trying to shield him from injury. Her head was still spinning from the hit, causing her to struggle to stay alert as her vision blurred around the edges.

Jake tried to kick Sam but Y/N swiftly waved her hand outwards, sending Jake barreling into a rusted old car. Y/N winced slightly as her eyes reverted back to its original color and her veins diminished it’s glowing blue. A pain shot through her temples from the use of her powers, but it was worth it to give Sam time to recover. Sam was finally coming to and sat up, blinking repeatedly trying to focus his vision.

Y/N grasped Sam’s shoulder gently, getting his attention. “You okay? Can you get up?” She asked quietly, keeping an eye on Jake who was slowly starting to recover. Jake almost instantly recovered, charging towards Sam and Y/N.

Sam got to his feet quickly and helped Y/N to hers, pulling her behind him. They prepared themselves for Jake's incoming attack, both of them still a little disoriented from being thrown against the fence. The two got into fighting stances, it was two against one. Sam swung first but Jake quickly dodged.

Y/N let out an almost battle cry scream as she raised her foot to kick Jake across the face, her hands glowed blue as she put all her strength into it. The kick successfully landed against Jake’s face, his head snapping back from the force. Y/N exhaled in relief, watching how Jake staggered backwards a bit.

Sam lunged at Jake, tackling him to the ground. Sam and Jake were now rolling on the ground, throwing punches and trying to overpower each other. Y/N stumbled away from the two as they fought, looking for the weapons they discarded, her head pounding and her eyesight slowly swimming. She blinked, trying to clear her eyesight as she leaned against a wooden railing on a porch.

Her eyes scanned the area, finally landing on a wrench Jake discarded a few feet away. She pushed herself off the railing and stumbled over to the tool, her hand grabbed it tightly as she turned around with it in an offensive position. She looked back over at Sam and Jake’s fight, her vision still blurry.

She rushed over to the fighting men and raised the tool above her head. It came down, landing against Jake’s head with a loud ‘thud’ sound. He instantly slumped onto the ground with a groan, leaving Sam to breathe for a moment in relief.

The world was spinning for Y/N after that blow, her head pounding even harder as her vision continued to swim. She stumbled backwards slightly, her legs feeling like they were going to give out. Sam held her up, taking the wrench from her.

He raised it up to finish the job with Jake but he couldn’t. He took a few breaths before dropping the wrench to the ground with a thud. He held Y/N up as she leaned against him, her entire body shaking. Sam quickly looked her over, noticing how she was basically holding onto him for dear life.

“AHHH!!!” Y/N screamed as the migraine returned, her eyes flashing white, her head was splitting open as the vision that was nagging her for hours finally reached its peak, revealing itself to her. Sam jumped in surprise as she yelled, wrapping his arms around her as her body went tense.

“Y/N/N! Hey, are you okay?!” Sam panicked, watching in horror as the familiar sight of her eyes and hands turning white and blue. He knew she was having a vision, judging by the sheer amount of agony she was in. “SAM!!! Y/N!!!” Sam heard the voices of his brother and Jo calling out to them.

“Dean" Sam and Y/N sighed in relief, clutching their shoulders. Dean's heart dropped when he noticed Jake behind his brother. "SAM LOOK OUT!" Dean shouted warningly when he approached Sam and Y/N, wielding a knife.

Sam didn't have a chance to respond before he was stabbed in the back by Jake. Dean ran towards his brother in the field, "NOOOOOOO!!!" Dean screamed painfully.

Jake twisted the knife buried in his spinal cord before Sam fell to his knees, his face contorted with agony.

This was the last thing Y/N saw when she came to, in the middle of the field, gripping her head from the migraine that struck. Her face was contorted with horror as eyes flickered up to Sam as her vision that she forced herself to believe was a dream was seconds away from happening. “Y/N/N, are you okay?” Sam asked, worry etched on his face, still clinging onto her.

“SAM LOOKOUT!!” Dean shouted warningly when Jake came up behind Sam, wielding the knife. “NOOO!” Left her lips. It was as if everything was in slow motion as Y/N acted out of instinct, her hand shining that familiar aqua blue light as she waved her hand, sending her best friend tumbling out of the way with a force, only to be stabbed by Jake instead, sacrificing her life for his.

The knife slid deep into Y/N's spinal cord as Sam fell to the ground, witnessing her demise firsthand, clutching his dislodged shoulder from the blast of power Y/N sent hurling towards him, and Dean's eyes widened in terror.

"NOOOOO!" Dean screamed in despair, his heart shattered as he watched her get stabbed. An ear piercing scream left Jo’s lungs upon seeing Y/N get stabbed. Bobby, Jo and Dean hurriedly approached Y/N as Bobby and Jo ran after Jake, who had already twisted and retracted the knife from Y/N’s back, was long gone.

Y/N cried out in agony, followed by an ear piercing scream from the psychic, the ground beneath them shaking as Dean caught her in time before she fell to her knees, gripping her by her jacket.

"Y/N! Woah, woah, woah, y/n, y/n, hey" Dean exclaims in a panic as he hurriedly lowered her to the ground, onto her knees as Sam rushed over, forgetting his wounded shoulder.

“Hey, come here, come here, let me look at you” Sam sobbed, his hands immediately going to her back, trying desperately to press his hand against the gushing wound as Y/N’s head wobbled into Dean’s shoulder.

Dean's heart broke when he saw the tremendous amount of blood on his brother's hand, holding up y/n to face him. “Hey, hey, hey. Look princess, it’s not even that bad. It’s not even that bad alright?” Dean tried to convince himself, his voice cracking with emotion as he and Sam held her up.

"It’s bad, it’s... it’s bad" Sam choked out, struggling to keep his composure as he held his hand firmly against her bleeding wound, putting as much pressure as he could against the injury.

Dean's heart sank as he held her close, desperately trying to convince himself that it was not that bad, but the sight of so much blood on his brother's hand told a different story. "Just... just look at me, ok? Y/N just look at me."

“Y/N?? Y/N! HEY!” Dean shouted, shaking her, “Hey, you gotta listen to me for once, okay sweetheart? We’re gonna patch you up, okay? You’re gon’ be as good as new? Huh?” But y/n’s head wobbled again, blood leaking from her mouth as a pained smile took her face.

Sam's face contorted with pain as he helped his brother to hold up Y/N's limp body in his arms, the blood from her wound staining his hands and clothes. "It’s alright, you're gonna be okay, you're gonna be okay" Sam repeated over and over again like a mantra, trying to convince himself as much as his brother but Y/N was limp. "She's fading, she's... she's fading!" Sam cried out helplessly. "We gotta... we gotta do something!"

Dean's heart pounded in his chest and he felt a sense of desperation wash over him. He shook her again, trying to get her to stay awake and listen to him. "No, no, no, no, no. Y/N/N, come on, open your eyes! You have to stay with me, alright??"

“I’m gonna take care of you. I’m gonna take care of both of you. I’ve got you. It’s my job right? Watch out for my pain in the ass little brother and his even bigger pain in the ass, sarcastic, ray of sunshine best friend” Dean forcefully chuckled as he pushed her hair aside.

Sam chuckled through his tears, his hands trembling as he tried to do all he could to stop the bleeding, but it seemed like it was futile. "Who’s gonna mouth off Dean when he’s being a dick, huh?” Sam croaked, attempting to help Dean hold her up.

Dean tried to put on a brave face, but his own eyes were filled with tears. He kept his hands on her face, his thumbs gently caressing her cheeks as he tried to keep her awake. "Just... just stay with me, alright?" He pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Come on, stay awake" Dean pleaded as he held her in his arms, his heart breaking as he saw how pale and lifeless she looked. "You have to fight. Please. I can't lose you. I can't lose you too."

But Y/N didn’t respond. Her eyes were closing and her breathing was becoming labored. "Y/N/N, baby please don’t do this to me," Dean begged, his voice cracking with emotion. "You can’t leave me. You can’t do this to me."

Suddenly, a strangled gasp escaped her lips, sending a pang of hope through Dean. "That's it, that's it" he urged her, his voice shaking with emotion. "Just keep breathing, princess. Just keep breathing."

“A-and you two…call m-me…the d-drama queen” Y/N breathed out, a weak chuckle leaving her through, coughing up blood. Dean and Sam let out a small laugh, but there was no joy in it. They both just wanted her to hold on, to fight.

Dean felt a slight pang of relief as Y/N spoke, her voice weak and struggling, but there was a hint of her usual sass that gave him a glimmer of hope. "That's right, there she is, there's my girl," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Sam's face was etched with worry as he tried to keep pressure on the wound. "Just hold on Y/N, please," Sam begged, tears streaming down his face. Y/N's voice was strained as she struggled to speak, her words laced with pain and sadness. "Listen... listen to me. I need to... I need to say something."

“No, no, no, no. You don’t need to say anything because you’re gonna be alright. Okay?!” Dean sobbed, gripping her tightly as she shook her head again. A weak tearful smile on her face,

"Dean... please, just... just let me say this" she whispered, her voice weakening with each word. Sam's tears fell silently as he continued to try to stop the bleeding, but it was clear that time was running out. He could see the determination in her eyes.

Dean looked at her, his expression a mixture of fear and desperation. He knew that she was running out of time, but the thought of hearing her final words was unbearable.

"No, no, no, no, no. You're not... you're not dying. You can't do this to me. You can't leave me." Y/N's hand lifted to touch his face, her touch weak and trembling before forcefully lifting her other hand to rest against Sam’s face.

Y/N took a shaky breath as she looked at them both, knowing that this might be the last time they ever saw her alive. "I... I just want to say... that I'm grateful. For everything" she began, her voice shaky and soft. “You two have been m-my rocks our whole lives, the only reasons I kept going. So t-thank you. I’ll always l-love you fellas.”

Dean and Sam's tears fell freely now, their hearts breaking as they listened to her words. The words cut through Dean's heart like a knife, the realization that this might be farewell sinking in. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. He couldn’t imagine his life without her in it.

"Y/N, please don't do this. You’re going to make it. We need you. I need you," he choked out, pleading with her to stay. Sam sniffled, tears streaming silently down his face as he held her hand on his cheek. "We love you too, Y/N. We love you too. You’re gonna be fine."

But Y/N smiled through her pain, shaking her head as tears stung at her eyes. "No…I’m not. A-and that’s o-…kay. You guys... you two are the only family I ever had. You’ll always b-be...my��fellas" Her voice grew weaker with every word as she slowly faded.

Her eyes flickered over to Dean, a pained expression on her face, “And D-dean…” She sniffled, feeling her body beginning to succumb to her injury. “I lo-….” But she didn’t get to finish her sentence, finally succumbing to her injury, her head plopping for one last time on Dean’s shoulder as she took her last breath.

The brothers sat there in shocked silence for a moment, tears streaming down their faces as they held her motionless body.

Sam sat there in disbelief, staring blankly at her lifeless body. He thought they were both gonna get out of this alive, live to tell the tale. He couldn't believe that she was gone. He couldn't believe that she had just died in their arms. Sam's grip on her hand tightens, his tears falling uncontrollably as he looks at her face, frozen in a peaceful expression.

Dean's mind raced with denial and fear. He couldn't accept that she was really gone. He looked at her face, searching for a hint of life, hoping against hope that she would open her eyes and smile at him. Dean's heart was shattered, the weight of her death hitting him like a ton of bricks. "No... no, no, no, no, no, no" he repeated, his voice growing increasingly desperate.

The pain in his voice was palpable, his heart breaking as he held her lifeless body in his arms. He could barely form any coherent thoughts, his mind a jumble of despair and disbelief. All he could do was hold her tighter, as if trying to somehow keep her with him.

Sam just shook his head in disbelief, his mind trying to process what had just happened. "This can't be happening. She can't be gone" he whispered, his voice betraying his emotions. “Y/N….Y/N/N!!!” Dean yelled hoarsely as she shook her again but she was gone. Dean held her to him, his hand resting to the back of her head as Sam leaned his head on his sister’s shoulder for the last time.

“Oh, God…Oh God” Sam’s voice cracked as they held her. The brothers were both speechless as they held her close, their tears falling silently onto her lifeless body. They knew that there was nothing they could do to bring her back, and the realization hit them like a ton of bricks.

Dean was inconsolable. He held her close, his heart broken and his mind in a state of denial. He couldn't believe that she was gone, that she had given her life for his brother's. Sam was just as devastated. He had grown up with her like his own sister, and now she was gone. The woman he was proud to call his best friend, his sister. Gone, because she loved him more than she loved herself. He couldn't think straight, his thoughts consumed by grief and guilt.

Dean found himself struggling to breath, holding the woman he loved motionless in his hands, having sacrificed her life. “Y/N!!!” Dean bellowed into the empty dark night.

They held her tightly, not wanting to let go. The weight of her death felt like a lead weight in their hearts, and they knew that their lives would never be the same again. As Dean let out another heart-wrenching yell, Sam's body shuddered with his own silent sobs. They stayed like that for a long time, holding her close, begging her to come back.

____________________________________________

Author’s Note: Heyyyy, heyyyyy, how y’all doing???🌚🌚🌚 NOW BEFORE YOU YELL AT ME I- I actually have no way to defend myself😭LET ONE RIP ON ME, YELL AT ME AND CUSS ME OUT BECAUSE THIS HURT MY SOUL MAN (pun intended💀) OKAY OKAY I'M GOING!! Hope y’all enjoyed it! Tell me what you hate and what you lovee. Don’t be shy to ask questions❤️

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

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

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

@iloveyou2mia @thelittlelightinthedarkness @lmhf1 @littletomboy2 @zigzoggy

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

Xoxo

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thenameswinterfics · 7 months ago

Text

HEARTS OF STEEL, LOVE OF SILK

Fandom: The Last Kingdom Pairing: Sihtric x Reader Settings: Season 5, episode 1 Summary: While you and your children enjoy a peaceful, domestic life in Rumcofa, Sihtric comes up with a pleasant surprise for you. Word Count: 3,9 K Warnings: Fluff, domestic fluff, smut, bad smut, very very bad smut, p in v sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), breeding kink, Daddy Sihtric is a warning itself. A/N: This fic was totally unplanned at first. It came out after a month and half of writing's block. I have planned no outline, no general guidelines, so sorry if you see a messy writing and some rushed parts. This is my first time writing smut, so I apologise if you'll find some horrors inside. This is a birthday present for my beloved @foxyanon . Hope you like it. If you're not, as I told you, you're free to cancel me. A special thanks to @zaldritzosrose , @legitalicat and @sylasthegrim for being a continuous inspiration and helping me with the fic, especially for the last part.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header & dividers by @zaldritzosrose

READ IT ON AO3

Winter came to Rumcofa in the blink of an eye, even faster than you could have imagined, unlike the village you once called home. However, you would be lying if you said that the cold season brought nothing but atmospheric surroundings. The white, soft snow covered part of the village streets all the way to the wooden dock, the frost clinging to the planks like delicate lace. The trees had been stripped of their leaves, but their bare branches were adorned with pure white, along with some water plants sprouting along the sides of the dock. The harsh temperatures didn't stop the merchants from coming and going as they reached the village by boat, some even staying the night and enjoying the evening bustle of the alehouse, warming their bodies with a hot meal and ale.

You didn't mind walking the streets at this time of year, the hustle and bustle of the village warming the air with a pleasant buzz. But there were days like this when you simply basked in the warmth of your home, a modest but cosy hut that provided a safe nest from the biting cold outside.

Signe, your daughter, was content to sit on your lap, her legs swinging happily and her eyelids half closed as you ran the palm of your hand through her silky hair, your bone comb gently untangling a few pesky knots. A soft hum escaped your lips, a soothing melody accompanied by the crackle of the fire, as your eyes wandered to your two youngest twins, Kare and Kore, playing peacefully on the warm fur on the floor, with a few wooden toys scattered about.

A buzz of voices outside caught your attention, a deep male voice followed by two shrill ones. And as the door of your hut swung open, you recognised the voices of your husband, Sihtric, followed by your first and third sons, Hindr and Ivar, the latter hoisted onto his father's broad shoulder. You saw the twins raise their heads, run to their father and cling to his shirt, tugging at it as Sihtric's free hand roamed over their small heads, playfully ruffling their hair with a wide grin on his face.

Years had passed, and Sihtric had become one of Uhtred's most trusted allies and friends, and a formidable warrior, earning him the nickname, along with Finan and Osferth, of "Uhtred's Pretty Boys". Yet despite his newfound confidence, you could see in his gaze the same shy warrior you had met many years ago in Coccham, on one of your usual stops on your lonely journeys. You were a warrior not bound to any lord, and Sihtric had been sworn under Uhtred's protection some years ago.

You could remember all the stolen glances you shared that night in the alehouse, and how he looked away quickly when he met your eyes, the flush in his cheeks visible in the dim light. It took some time for you to get to know him better, and at first you thought the Dane didn't enjoy your company, for he fled at the first opportunity.

But Sihtric loved you, of course he did. A love so fierce and sincere that it would move even the hardest of the gods. And because he loved you so much, he feared to disappoint you: he was born a bastard, with nothing to give you in return but his skill with the sword. It was not until you joined Uhtred's warriors a few months later that you got to know each other well, and the spark of love exploded like a fire in the middle of the forest. After a short courtship, Sihtric asked his lord for permission to marry you, and he eagerly agreed.

The gods blessed your union with the arrival of your first child, a boy you both named Hindr. Three years later, your union was blessed again with the arrival of Signe, who Sihtric affectionately called "my little princess". While you loved your two children dearly, you both agreed that there was room in your love nest for one more, and a few years later Ivar was born.

Your fourth pregnancy came as a surprise, as neither of you had planned to welcome another child into your family. Sihtric was reluctantly forced to leave his family to follow Uhtred in his attempt to retake Bebbanburg, and while he was busy defending the borders of Mercia, you gave birth alone, bringing two healthy twins into the world. You were reunited after the Siege of Winchester, and after shedding tears of joy for his children, he vowed to be a more present father and husband and make up for lost time.

"Let me come with you, Papa!" was the whining voice of Hindr, tugging at his father's sleeve to get his attention. The Dane lowered Ivar to the ground, and after he both kissed his sons' foreheads, he bent over his firstborn.

"It's still too dangerous for you, Hindr," Sihtric chided in a calm but firm tone, his calloused fingers stroking the child's cheek and chuckling at his son's little pout. "One day you will join me. I promise you." He finished, kissing the top of his head.

Then he rose and approached you and Signe by the fire. As soon as he was in your presence, he bent over you, holding two small flowers in one of his hands.

"One for my little princess," the Dane said softly, placing one of the flowers in his daughter's hand and gently pressing his lips to her forehead, to which Signe responded with a shy, silent nod. "And one for my queen," he added, leaning his face over yours and sealing your lips with a tender and lingering kiss. You closed your eyes, savouring the moment as a pleasant and familiar warmth spread through your chest. It had been a long time since you and Sihtric had shared an act of intimacy, and caring for five children took time away from even a brief kiss.

But the time was up, and soon you were forced to break the kiss and watch as Sihtric hurriedly took his sword. "Are you leaving already?" you asked, a hint of disappointment in your voice. Sihtric looked over at you as he took one of the twins in his arms.

"The Blood Month, my love," the Dane said, content to be surrounded by his wife and children, "Our boy Aethelstan is ready for his first hunt and we will join him.”

You hummed in understanding, your body mechanically combing Signe's hair while your mind was elsewhere. You loved your children, they all had your blood and Sihtric's running through their veins. But you were a warrior before you were a mother, and the time you spent on the battlefield with your husband was a distant memory. But Sihtric seemed to sense your discomfort, and he approached you once more before putting Kore down.

"I swear we will celebrate the next Blood Month together, my love," the Dane reassured you in a soothing voice and gave you a final kiss before saying goodbye to his children one by one. Before leaving the hut, he stroked Hindr's hair once more. "Protect your Mama and siblings while I'm gone, little warrior."

"As if his mother could not protect herself," you scolded playfully, rolling your eyes dramatically. Sihtric replied with a loud chuckle, his eyes sparkling with affection as he crossed the threshold of the door.

"I know you can, my fierce shield maiden," he replied with a grin, closing the door behind him.

You quickened your pace as you reached the alehouse, holding the twin's small hands in yours. Sihtric followed ahead of you, a small axe taken from Hindr sheathed in his leather belt, as he watched his three eldest children run through the building.

The hunt had gone well, except for one unforeseen event that no one had anticipated. Sihtric told you how Aethelstan had been attacked by three men, but had somehow managed to kill one and survive almost unharmed. It was not a boar they had sacrificed, but at least the Blood Month tradition was somehow expected. But it was the unexpected arrival of Eadith that took everyone by surprise: Uhtred and his men knew she had left after the events in Mercia and Winchester, but no one expected her to pay a sudden visit to Rumcofa.

The alehouse was warm, the flickering fire of candles dancing through the tables and casting a cosy glow on the wooden walls. The aroma of ale filled the air, the clatter of mugs and the cheerful chatter and laughter of the men adding to the convivial atmosphere.

With each mug of ale in hand, the whole group stood still and circled around Eadith as she told them the stories of how she had come to Frankia and how she had learned and honed her skills as a healer. As the conversation continued, you could see the surprise in the redhead's eyes when she recognised Aethelstan among the men, and you couldn't blame her.

You remember how King Edward's bastard son was taken under Uhtred's protection and raised among you: the child knew nothing of the dangers of the world, spending his early years in a monastery, his cocoon shielded from the outside world. Most of the time he ended up in your and Sihtric's care, and together with Cynlaef you raised them as your sons, the boys calling your own their little siblings. But now they were grown men, and you looked at them with pride and emotion: you and Sihtric still had your own children to love and cherish, but you would be lying if you said you missed those moments.

"This is Sihtric's wife," Uhtred said to Eadith, pointing to you with the mug in his hands, "and all of her and Sihtric's little pack that populate this town."

"Five children can hardly populate Rumcofa, Uhtred," you replied with a smile, your fingers gently stroking Signe's hair.

"Perhaps the gods will be on our side and bless our union again," Sihtric added, his hand slipping from your shoulder to your flat stomach. It was no secret that you both longed for another child, but you both knew that you were not the young and fresh couple you once were, and your ageing bodies made that dream distant and uncertain.

"Perhaps you should ask your gods for a little nudge," Finan snorted lightly, holding Ingrith by the waist and your son Kare in his arms. In the midst of the laughter, you could see Finan and Sihtric exchanging a knowing look that surprised you, but did not carry much weight.

The conversation continued until sundown, when the sun set, giving way to the moon, and the orange of the sky was replaced by a deep blue dotted with stars.

As you entered your hut, you threw your cloak and boots onto the nearest chair, tossed your hair aside and tried to undo the laces of your dress. Sihtric was the last to enter, closing the door behind him, unbuckling his belt and placing his weapons against the nearest wall.

When you turned to look at him, you noticed that something was wrong: everything was quiet, too quiet for a family with five children. You would expect chaos after a day at the alehouse, your husband running over his children in a playful catch, or just you and Sihtric sitting by the fire playing with them before tucking them into bed. But they were nowhere to be seen.

“Where is our little pack?” you asked with a hint of worry in your voice, frustration rising as you struggled to untie your laces.

"With Finan and Ingrith," Sihtric replied casually, his voice dropping as he approached from behind. Had you listened more closely, you would have heard a bit of hoarseness in his voice. "I asked them to look after our children for the night."

The Dane put his hands on your waist and pulled you gently from behind, pressing your back against his chest. You could feel his hot breath against your skin, his facial hair tingling your skin as he planted soft kisses on the side of your neck.

"I would have preferred to be informed of this idea of yours, Sihtric," you sighed, lifting your head to give him better access to your neck. You felt a shiver run down your spine, a strange but familiar warmth blooming in your lower abdomen: you could not remember the last time Sihtric had made your head spin and your body tremble with pleasure, the sounds of your moans echoing in your head.

“Is it so wrong to surprise you, little wife?” he whispered in your ear.

His teeth slowly grazed the skin of your neck. It was only meant as a tease, a way to have you fully entranced by him. Your words began to come out in broken, stuttered responses as you tried to think of anything coherent.

"Help me undo these laces and you will see how wrong you are," you replied courtly and sharply breathed, feigning offence in that remaining moment of lucidity. But your veil of resoluteness soon fell as you felt his rough hands cross your back, one of his tattooed fingers tracing your spine in a fluid motion. And as you sighed at the sensation of him touching the laces of your dress, a loud gasp escaped your mouth as you heard the muffled sound of a tear, the movement so unexpected that you lost your balance and were forced to place your hands on the table.

"Ah, m-my dress!" you hissed, your eyelids half open at the feel of his mouth kissing and nibbling your exposed skin, from the nape of your neck to your shoulders. "You tore one of your gifts-"

"I will buy you another one," Sihtric cut you off with a low murmur, savouring every inch of you with his mouth, "I will buy you the finest gown in all of Northumbria, if you allow me," the Dane continued, working his way up from your shoulder to your earlobe, nibbling gently, "but you know I will always prefer you without your clothes on."

All hope of maintaining self-control was lost when his hands began to squeeze your breasts as he sank his teeth into your tender flesh. You moaned loudly, your mind clouded with too much pleasure as you pressed against his body: Sihtric let out a low, guttural moan as he felt his throbbing cock pressed against your arse, sinking his teeth deeper into your shoulders.

He had waited too long for this moment, and had he had the chance, he would have stripped you naked and humped you on the kitchen table. But in his eyes you were his queen and goddess, ready to throw away his pleasure to satisfy yours first.

Instead, Sihtric spun you around and sat you on the table while he quickly revealed your breasts, slightly swollen from all the time you had spent carrying and feeding your children. His lips trailed down your throat, his tongue tasting the saltiness of your skin as he finally reached for your breast, his mouth enveloping and sucking gently as he cupped the other one in his hand, teasing your hardening nipple with his fingers. Shrieks and whimpers were your only sounds, accompanied by your soft moans as you rolled your eyes back, your back arching as you surrendered to the pleasure of the moment, the warmth in your abdomen spreading uncontrollably.

You could feel your core pulsing with excitement, a burning sensation that felt like sweet torture to you, loud sighs mixed with your screams as you desperately searched for something to relieve you. The wetness between your legs only increased as you felt one of Sihtric's hands push up your skirt, his fingers trailing up your inner thigh as they reached your warm cunt.

"Already so wet for me, my love?" the Dane asked in a hoarse voice, teasing your core with a few strokes before pushing a finger inside you, the intrusion unexpected but pleasurable at the same time. You almost forgot how thick his fingers were as he stroked inside you, how often he let your body float and how much your legs trembled at his touch.

Babbling and rambling words were the only thing you could say, your rational self temporarily gone. His name, called out like a ritual chant in a breathless voice, was the only word you could manage, your low throaty voice reaching his ears like a distant melody, frustrating him as his cock grew impatient in his breeches. But he knew he would postpone his pleasure for much longer, not before he made you squirm and scream his name loudly until your lungs were empty of air.

"How much I missed this," Sihtric whispered, leaning his head towards you, "how much I missed us."

"Sihtric," you sighed as his lips met yours, the kiss far from the gentle one you had shared in the morning. It was a needy, bruising kiss that told a story of longing touch and pent-up passion, of two souls locking their primary desires for the sake of their family.

Sihtric's tongue parted, the tip finding an entrance into your parted lips. You allowed him to enter your mouth, your tongues meeting in a frenzied dance as you swallowed another loud moan and felt another finger penetrate you. You inadvertently moved your hips towards him, moaning at how perfectly his thick fingers stretched inside you, his wriggles teasing and rubbing your tight walls.

Your husband could feel your hips moving frantically against his hand, your arse slapping against his open palm and your walls tightening against his fingers, a signal that your climax was reaching its breaking point. But he had no intention of letting you finish like that: he needed to remember how you tasted, to savour you and drink you all up.

He gently pushed you back, wanting to lay you down and bury his head in your thighs. But you quickly grabbed his wrist and stopped him, a frustrated moan escaping his lips.

"Not here," you murmured breathlessly, your body still trembling from the pleasure you had just received. For as much as you could not wait to release your own excitement, you would never let him take you on the table.

Sihtric's impatience grew as he scooped you up in his arms, carried you in front of the fire and laid you on the warm furs. Your lips entwined again in hungry and lustful kisses as you both undressed, Sihtric tearing your dress to shreds while you removed his with gentle movements, letting them fall with a soft thud.

You both stood naked by the fire, his lips moving quickly down, tasting and biting your skin from throat to belly, until he spread your legs in desperation, his head trapped between your thighs. His breath was hot against your folds, the heat from his mouth so pleasant and arousing that you would have closed your legs and found some friction had Sihtric not spread them with his hands. He teased your wet core with the tip of his tongue, but the taste of you was so intoxicating that all restraint was lost. First a lick, then his tongue penetrated your folds, devouring you like prey after a day's hunting. Your head began to spin, moans and whimpers escaping your lips as your fingers trailed over his curls, tugging wildly at them, causing the Dane to grunt and moan in return.

You reached your peak quickly, coming on his tongue as he eagerly lapped up your release. Your thighs trembled under his grip, which caused Sihtric to chuckle next to your folds.

“Good girl, such a pretty wife I have,” he said quietly with a kiss to each thigh. “Are you willing to give me one more?”

Before you could even answer, he allowed you to taste yourself on his lips as he positioned himself between your legs, his cock twitching painfully as his own arousal desperately needed to be released. Keeping your legs spread, he spat on his tip and after a few strokes, he positioned himself at your entrance and thrust into you in one swift motion. It took all his willpower not to fuck you at speed: instead he chose a slow approach, his length stretching inside you like a sweet torture. He was slow at first, creating a careful rhythm, knowing how sensitive you were.

“Do not be so gentle now, husband,” you said softly as you leaned up. Your lips ghosted across his chest, then his collarbone, creating a trail of chills as you went. His thrusts faltered a bit as he shuddered with each kiss. “I am not some fragile flower, I can take it.”

Your leg wrapped around his hips, allowing him deeper inside you as you angled your hips up. One hand gripped your thigh, holding your leg tightly around him, while the other braced itself on the furs, holding his weight. A string of curse came out with every thrust, now deeper and harder.

The crackling of the fire could not hide the vocal chaos you two were making, the room filled with your whimpers and moans, Sihtric panting and grunting as he fucked you deep and hard, hissing under his teeth every time you tugged at his curls wildly. One of his hands moved from your hips to your flat stomach, the circling movements gentle in contrast to his rough movements.

“How good would it be to see you round with my pup again,” he whispered with an animalistic growl, never faltering his pace as you both rocked against each other’s hips.

“I would like to, husband” you whined, arching your back and head as he hit a sensitive spot. “But I am afraid my body could not bear another pup inside me,”

Upon hearing your words, Sihtric lowered over you, kissing the contour of your jaw gently, “Never underestimate the workings of the gods, my love,” he whispered with a hoarse voice, “We do not know what-”

A choked moan escaped his throat, grunting against your neck as he quickened the pace once more, his own climax on the verge of the release. The grip on your hips tightened into a bruised vice, your walls clenching around him, eagerly awaiting his release.

"Fuck, please," you let out a sharp breath as you clung to him, your nails digging into his back until they left scratches. Your senses were sharpened by the growing wave of pleasure, leaving you temporarily stunned as you felt your own release coming.

"Come to me, my queen," was the gruff voice of Sihtric you heard, praising you and whispering honeyed words before you both came simultaneously, wetting his cock with your fluids as your walls milked him of all his seed. When he pulled himself out, you both collapsed on the furs, both a terrible mess, but neither of you wanted to leave each other's embrace. You remained entwined for minutes that seemed an eternity, your fingers intertwined as you opened your eyes.

"Sihtric," you called out breathlessly, feeling the Dane's head rise against your neck, "What if the gods do not bless us with another pup?"

Your question made Sihtric smile fondly, his rough hand resting on your cheeks as your lips met in a tender kiss.

"Then I will thank them for giving me a beautiful wife and five loving children to love and cherish with my whole heart."

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it!

Taglist: @whitedarkmoonflower @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @foxyanon @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose

@alexagirlie @sylasthegrim @lord-aldhelm @sihtricsafin @arcielee

#sihtric x reader #sihtric kjartansson x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson x you #sihtric smut #sihtric fic #sihtric kjartansson fic #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fic #tlk fanfic #tlk fic

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604to647 · 9 months ago

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Barón Tovar Takes a Wife

Third Movement (Presto agitato)

11K / Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero Tovar x fem!reader, a childhood best friends to lovers story

Summary: What do you do now that you realize you have feelings for the Barón?

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Pining and Angst. Semi public kissing, groping and sex. Someone comes in his breeches 🤷🏻‍♀️. F!oral, fingering, thigh riding, unprotected PiV. Pet names (spanish), Pero catches reader and gives her a little twirl once.

A/N: I'm sorry for the word count 😅😅 I feel like the pacing of this final part is kind of like season 1 of Bridgerton where it was like 5 episodes of flirting and then SMUTSMUTSMUT 🤭🤭 Just wanted to give our Spaniard and his Dulce a HEA, that's all! Please please correct my Spanish!! Google won't be offended! Thank you for reading along and hope you're looking forward to Season 3 of Bridgerton next week!

Series Masterlist 🎼 First Movement 🎼 Second Movement 🎼

The following morning you wake to your ladies’ maid gently shaking you and a massive headache. Barely able open your eyes, so puffy from crying, you’re sure you gave her a terrible fright. After asking for and drinking some water, you try using the cool glass to depuff your eyes and alleviate the pounding in your head, but no difference is made; you continue to feel positively awful. Daphne comes into your room at the behest of the maid and immediately sees you’re much too unwell to entertain visitors today; it’s an easy decision to send all your suitors away and have them come back when you’re better. When you start to apologize for causing a fuss, she immediately shushes you and insists you get rest - she will have the maids bring up some soothing tea. You lay back down, exhausted, and drift off in the middle of telling her how much you love her.

---

Pero steps into Bridgerton House just as several young men are leaving; as they brush past him, he spots Colin speaking with a maid in the main foyer.

“Tovar! It’s been ages – how have you been?” Colin beams when he sees his friend.

In truth, Pero is here to see you; he can’t quite get over the look of distress on your face when you left him last night. Not for the first time, Pero silently curses Lord Ridlington for having sent over women to his house unsolicited last night, his apparent idea of a prank. Leaving the women to themselves in a waiting room, Pero had been discussing with his butler the next course of action when you had surprised him beneath his window. After you left, he made the proper arrangements for the women to leave discreetly, and had gone to bed thinking of you as usual.

“I’ve been well, thank you. Hope things have been going well here? Have today’s suitors started their visits earlier than usual?” He gestures to another three men now descending the stairs and making towards the exit in an orderly line.

“No, my Lord,” the maid explains, “Miss is ill today. Her suitors have been sent away and asked to return when she has recovered and is ready to receive visitors again.”

“Ill?!” How could you have taken ill when he just saw you? Instantly Pero admonishes himself for having kept you standing outside last night - the night chill must have disagreed with you. “Please,” he begs, “take me to see her.”

The maid looks panic stricken. Surely this Spanish nobleman must understand the impropriety of a man being let in to the bed chambers of an unmarried woman.

Colin diverts her attention, “Marie, it will be okay. Barón Tovar is an old family friend of the Count’s. There is nothing improper afoot. The door will remain open and you and I shall both be but a step away.”

With Mr. Bridgerton’s assurance, Marie the maid leads the two men to your door and opens it wide before stepping back to wait outside with Colin. Pero walks into darkness, the curtains still drawn to help you sleep and ease the pain of your headache, but your magnetic pull leads him to you with no issue.

Kneeling by your bedside, Pero says your name softly, but you do not stir. He goes to push aside some hair that’s fallen across your forehead and is alarmed when it feels hot to the touch; using the back of his hand to check your forehead and cheeks, he finds you clammy and feverish. Shouting for Marie, both Colin and the maid rush in to Pero’s call, “Please find the Duchess! Her friend is running a fever and a doctor needs to be called. And please bring me a basin of cold water and a clean washcloth at once!”

Daphne rushes in minutes later to find Pero dabbing your forehead with the wet cloth that Marie procured, “Oh no! I saw her this morning and knew she was unwell, but I did not think to check for a temperature!”

Shaking his head softly, Pero entreats the Duchess, “Do not blame yourself, your Grace. Likely this morning she was not feverish when you saw her. Please, has a doctor been called?”

The Duchess nods tearfully, grateful for Pero’s kind words and feeling a kinship with this man who clearly shares her tremendous concern for your well being.

When the doctor arrives, Daphne stays in the room and gives Pero a nod of reassurance; he leaves begrudgingly though he knows you are in safe hands with the Duchess. Hovering impatiently never more than a step away from the door, Pero breathes a sigh of relief when he overhears the doctor say that your temperature is no longer increasing, and that if kept cool and comfortable, your fever should easily break over the next day or two. He vows to ensure both conditions are met to the best of his abilities until the moment you awake.

After the doctor leaves and Daphne has gone in search of a servant to fetch your father, Pero stays by your side, continuously stroking your hair gently and dabbing your hot skin with a cool cloth. Every time Daphne passes by the open door of your room, she looks in to find Pero watching over you, brows furrowed, eyes full of concern and worry. Sometimes the Duchess will see Pero’s lips moving, speaking gently to you - though she never hears the words he says, she can tell they’re heartfelt. It becomes crystal clear to her that two weeks ago she had simply asked the Barón the wrong question; instead of “Do you intend to court her?”, she should have asked Pero: “Do you love her?” The answer obvious.

Pero never leaves your side, not when the Bridgerton women visit, or even when your father comes. He just tucks himself into the corner of the room until their visits are over, as if afraid to leave you. When it’s just him and you alone, he tries his best to make sure you’re comfortable, arranging your blankets nicely and propping up your pillows so that your sleep is restful and serene. He requests that cool water and clean cloths are at his constant disposal, and makes sure to dab your face, neck, and decolletage at consistent intervals in order to keep your temperature down. And while he does so, Pero continuously talks to you, encouraging you to get better, coaxing you back to him.

He calls you carino, hermosa, princesa, mi reina, mi amor, and all the other endearments he doesn’t ever let himself call you save for in his head. He lavishes you with compliments and words of praise that he's never allowed to slip past his lips - how perfect you are, how sweet and smart, that he doesn’t know anyone else like you and that your cheerful demeanor and melodic voice are the only things that can ever make him smile. He tells you how he hasn’t smiled as much as he has since he reunited with you at the Danbury ball in years. He confesses that every time he holds you while you dance, he has trouble letting go when the music ends, and when he sees another man take your hand and spin you around the room, he has to hold himself back from physically stepping in and pulling you back into his arms. He tells you that he finds you beautiful and intoxicating, and describes every last inch of you that he can’t stop dreaming about, but lingers the longest in his description of your eyes and the richness of expressions they make that leave him breathless. He tells you all these things because if he doesn’t say them out loud, he thinks he will burst from having to hold his feelings in all the time. He tells you these things because he knows you will never hear them.

As the doctor predicted, the fever breaks late the following day and you start to stir shortly after. Blinking your eyes open slowly, they come into focus to your father’s worry lined face and you watch as it cracks with relief, “Welcome back, dearest. How do you feel?”

Not sure you can trust your voice right now, you give your father a small smile and nod when he says he needs to get the doctor. In the few minutes you have alone, you try to get your bearings; the last thing you remember is waking to a terrible headache and falling back asleep after Daphne told you she would be sending your suitors away. You swear you have vague memories of Pero’s voice and soft touch, but that couldn’t have been real. Pero. Oh. You remember now the reason for having woken up before feeling empty and sad, but you don’t have too long to linger on it because your father returns swiftly with the doctor.

After declaring you well on your way to a full recovery, the doctor leaves you with your father; the Count, looking like the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders, hugs you tightly and clasps his hands tightly over yours, “I am so glad you are better, dearest. Now, will you please tell your suffering father what is troubling that heart of yours?”

You’re shocked. How could your father know about your feelings for Pero when you only realized them a few nights ago? Your surprise must be written all over your face because the Count gently explains, “My dear, in the entirety of your life, you have only ever had such a fever twice, both times due to crying yourself sick from heartbreak. The first time was when you were a young girl and I read you The Little Mermaid - the ending saddened you to tears. The other was when we were leaving Portugal and I didn’t let you keep the stray puppy you had been feeding for a month. This is how I know something ails your heart terribly. Please. Tell your father so he can help you.”

Your heart swells with affection for your father - he has always been the most loving and caring man, attentive to your feelings and understanding of your nature. There is no one on this earth who you trust so whole heartedly and with whom you feel so safe. Except for Pero, you suddenly realize.

You tell your father everything. You tell him about how Pero lets you be yourself without reservation, and that with him you don’t need to temper down your enthusiasm for your interests or make your experiences seem smaller than they are. How he encourages you in everything you do and makes you feel like you’re capable of anything and everything. He respects you and approaches you with kindness, always making you feel safe and taken care of. That he makes you laugh all the time. And that you’ve taken Pero and his wonderfulness for granted, not realizing just how rare and valuable all his amazing qualities are because if you had you would have figured out earlier that you’re completely in love with him. You cry softly and confess to your father that your heart is broken because you’re in love with a man who will never see you more than a childhood compatriot, and that you may never get over this sad truth.

The Count listens to you sympathetically, and when you’re finished, he simply tilts his head thoughtfully and asks, “How do you know he does not care for you in the same manner?”

You can hardly tell your father that you snuck out of Bridgerton House and interrupted Pero when he had company over, so you have to cite another reason you’re so certain of how Pero feels about you. But you find yourself struggling to come up with any concrete examples or reasoning that satisfy even yourself; all you can say is, “Because he wishes for me to find a husband. He encourages me to do so. I’m simply the daughter of his father’s friend.”

Something like bemusement dances over your father’s face, “It seems to a me that a man who thinks of you as simply the daughter of his father’s friend would not have purchased my shares in the fleet.”

You’re absolutely stunned. Pero purchased your father’s shares? But why? There was no inherent income from the investment, the dividends benefitted you and your future children only, “Why would Pero do that?”

“You will have to ask him yourself, dearest. It shouldn’t be too long before he visits himself now that he’s likely heard you’re awake. He had not left your bedside for nearly two days and it was only at my insistence that he let me sit vigil so he could go home and change his clothes.”

Again, you’re astonished; is it possible that your vague recollections of Pero’s voice and gentle touches while you were ill are real?

“I will say, when I asked him the same question of why, his answer was that he did not want the hard work you and I put into our happy venture to be squandered. He said he knew that would break your heart.”

It’s true, it would.

“With his experience, I know the fleet would be in good hands.”

Nodding, you have to agree.

“… and you would be in good hands.”

You look up to see your father looking at you with an expression you can’t quite place. You’re about to ask him about it when you hear a quiet knocking and you look over to see Pero standing in the open doorway, as if you had summoned him with your conversation.

“My apologies, I do not mean to interrupt. I thought I heard your voice and wanted to see if you were awake,” Pero looks tired, but hopeful.

The Count waves him in and gets up, whispering in your ear, “Be kind to him, dearest. The man has been in anguish and has not left your bedside for more than a few minutes these past two days.” Kissing you on the cheek, he tells you he will go and find the Duchess to give her the good news of your recovery if the doctor has not yet done so himself. After he pulls away, you notice for the first time that your room is filled with peonies, every flat surface covered with the most splendid displays in the prettiest pastel colours – your heart soars at the sight. When Pero takes your father’s place in the chair across from you, neither of you notice that the Count closes the door behind him.

“Dulce, how are you feeling,” asks Pero with as much feeling as you’ve ever heard from him.

You tell him you’re much better, and that although no one has said so explicitly, you suspect that much of your recovery is due to his diligent care and watch over you.

“It was nothing, Dulce. I was worried about you. I am glad you are okay now,” he says, relief evident in his voice.

“Thank you for taking care of me. I really don't know what I have done to deserve your kindness, Pero. And not only these past two days when I’ve taken ill, but over the entire course of this season – I do not think I have ever properly thanked you for being there for me, supporting and encouraging me, and bringing me such peace and joy so that I did not buckle under the pressure of my debut. Please allow me to do so right now. Thank you, Pero,” you look at him with adoration and admiration, pouring all your feelings out and disguising them as simple gratitude.

“It has been my absolute pleasure, truly. I am so very proud of the woman you have grown up to be: beautiful, smart, funny, and so, so very caring. You are one of kind, Dulce – and the lucky man who marries you needs to know just how special you are. There isn’t anyone else who has your vibrant spirit, your sweet disposition, your fun-loving heart. He needs to know and nurture all these wonderful qualities so that your light never goes out,” Pero espouses your virtues and merits with eyes fixed upon yours, wishing he could express just how deep his admiration truly runs.

To say you’re affected would be an understatement, and it makes you bold and brave.

“Pero, I cannot tell you how much your kind words mean to me. I have never known a man to be more genuine and earnest that you; when you say something, you mean it. I find you so very thoughtful this way. And in other ways as well – I know, for example, it must have been you who filled this room with my favourite flowers.” Pero nods indulgently and you carry on, “… and I know you purchased the shares in the fleet from my father. Thank you, Pero.”

Pero is surprised, although he had not asked the Count to keep the sale from you, he didn’t expect you to know already.

You’re looking at him with an expression he won’t let himself name, eyes soft, almost pleading, “Why would you do something so generous, Pero?”

Pero remains quiet, as if wrestling with how he wishes to answer and you wait patiently, not sure what to expect.

“The owner of the shares has custody of a great gift. The fleet is an impressive venture - it has potential to do considerable good in this world, and much of that is thanks to you and your father’s dedication and contributions – the holder of these shares cannot squander that opportunity; he needs to honour you and your father’s legacy by carrying on the good work you’ve started together. But that in and of itself is not the gift. The man who holds these shares is also given the gift of being able to take care of you, to have a small hand in ensuring a prosperous future for you and your children. I… could not take the risk that someone who did not understand the honour of this charge would hold these shares. I hope you can understand and not think it imprudent of me.”

You don’t know what to say. Pero is so generous and considerate – how could he ever think you would view his gesture as anything but deeply caring? Unsure of your silence, Pero attempts to lighten the mood, “This way, I can still be in your life. I can come to see you when I need to discuss matters of the fleet.”

“Pero, you’re my friend! You do not need to have a business pretense to see me.”

He shakes his head sadly, “You will be married, Dulce. Your husband would not like a man like me visiting his wife frequently.”

“A man like you?” you’re not sure what he means.

“A man who looks at you the way I look at you.”

You inhale sharply, hardly allowing yourself to breathe, “And how do you look at me, Pero?”

“Like you are the sun, Dulce. Like everything you touch is made brighter and better from the light of your smile and the warmth of your sweet laugh. As if under your care and attention, everything and everyone, including me, grows – stronger, brighter, better. I look at you like I dream about the graceful notes of your voice every night and wish to hear your melody of thoughts and opinions on all things. I look at you like I am hypnotized just by the sway of your hips and even the lilt of your fingers. Everyday, I’m ever more enchanted with the tilt of your head and curve of your mouth. I look at you like I could never get enough.”

“And what if I don’t want that?”

“Then I will stay away, mi reina. Anything you wish,” though crushed, Pero knows that he would do whatever you asked.

“No, Pero, you misunderstand. What if I don’t want a husband who does not want you looking at me like that? What if I want you to look at me like that? What if I do not want a husband who isn’t you?”

“Dulce…” Pero’s heart has leapt into his throat, he can hardly allow himself to believe what he’s hearing, “… you do not know what you’re saying. You would not want me for a husband.”

You smile kindly, “And why not?”

Pero looks at you so sadly it breaks your heart, “You would not wish to separate from your friends and leave England to be mistress of a lowly Barón’s estate in a foreign land where you know no one and do not speak the language. Not when you have suitors with much grander fortunes, with estates nearer to your friends, and where you and your children would grow up in the style befitting the daughter of a British Count. You would not want a husband who is never home and spends more time on the seas and in far off lands than he does on home soil; one you never see and for whom you would worry all the time, not knowing where he is or what he is doing.”

“Would you not be willing to take me with you on your travels, Pero?”

“Of course, I would,” Pero never second guesses his answer.

Heart still aflutter at Pero’s romantic declarations, you press ahead, determined. “Well. It seems then that no one would be better suited to be my husband than you! You must know me well enough to know that I do not care for grand fortunes and estates, and my dear father and now you have made sure that I will never be financially dependent on any husband. What I care for is freedom and adventure! And exploration and not being kept from the joys this life has to offer because I am a woman, or just somebody’s wife. As for my friends, I can always visit! And I am fortunate enough that the strength of our bonds is not dependent on having to see each other constantly. Honestly! This would not be the first time in my life I have gone to live in a foreign country where I do not speak the native tongue – it’s practically second nature to me now! But I can see how it would be useful to be able to fluently converse with servants and locals - I suppose I would just have to commit myself to learning Spanish. That is,” you’re suddenly embarrassed upon realizing that Pero hasn’t actually asked you to be his wife, and instead, you’re espousing all the reasons you find the match to be agreeable when he himself hasn’t expressed any desire for it, “if you would wish to have me.”

“Dulce, all I have done since the moment I laid eyes on you at the Danbury Ball is wish to have you. Do you know how hard it was for me to see you entertaining all those suitors when I was certain none of them could ever appreciate you for even half the wonderful person you are? None of them had any idea what a smar-“

You crash your lips to his, and after the initial surprise, Pero kisses you back with the fervent need that’s been building in his soul the past few months. Throwing your arms around him, you open your mouth to his just as his hands pull you flush to his chest; it’s the warmest, hungriest first kiss to have ever been kissed. Your mind having only recently caught up to your heart, and Pero’s constrained feelings finally being set free, your tongues press together over and over, spilling all the unspoken words between the both of you. On instinct you fist Pero’s shirt and pull him down with you onto the bed, Pero’s eyes darkening as he climbs on top of you, placing one knee in between your legs while keeping the other on the ground. You finally run your hands through his soft curls and it feels as incredible as you had imagined two nights ago; you both moan softly at the sensation.

“Dulce, you make the prettiest noises…”

You purr softly at Pero’s praise, leading him to groan deeper into your mouth and you feel the hand that isn’t braced on the pillow next to your head start to skate up your side, landing near your breast and tentatively drawing circles on the underside of your plush curves with its thumb. You arch into Pero’s hand to encourage him to touch you, and he responds as he always promised he would if he had the chance which is to give in to your every desire. Groping your breast and finding your nipple between his fingers, Pero rolls and pinches so expertly that you can’t help but writhe beneath him. He shifts to kiss down your neck as he continues his attentions on your peak and when his knee brushes your throbbing centre, you gasp loudly before covering your mouth with your hands. Still breathing heavily, the two of you giggle and smile stupidly at each other in the tender moment. Pressing his forehead against yours, Pero whispers, “Mi reina, we should stop, I still need to ask your father for your hand. Tomorrow, I am sure he will come here for breakfast and I will ask to speak with him after.”

Looking deep into is eyes, you nod; you know Pero’s right, though there’s a warmth radiating from your very being that wishes to invite scandal and tell him to never stop touching you, knowing by the way he’s making you feel right now that it would be worth it.

Not without regret, Pero pulls himself off of you and stands; after he helps you sit up, Pero tips your chin with his finger so you look at him squarely. A seriousness takes over his face, an expression he usually reserves for others, “Are you sure you want me, mi amor? You have so many suitors, so many options.”

Your eyes shine with sincerity and so much softness for this man that does not seem to understand just how much you love him. You vow to spend the rest of your days showing him, “There are no options when there’s you, Pero.”

You can’t help but shriek a little in laughter as Pero falls on you and crushes his lips to yours, pinning your body to your bed with his large and solid frame. Kissing you over and over, Pero punctuates his affection with barely strung together words of love - So perfect. So perfect. Can’t believe it. How. How did I get so. Damn. Lucky. Beautiful. Perfect girl.

Right before your giggles can turn into moans, a knock on your door freezes you both. The noise is quickly followed by the Duchess’ slightly amused voice, “Is everything okay? We have brought up dinner. Please let me know when it is decent for us to come in.”

Giving you one last peck on your lips before chuckling lightly, Pero pulls you up and whispers, “Tomorrow,” before going to open the door for Daphne.

The next morning you find Pero waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs when you come down. Checking quickly to make sure there aren’t any lingering servants, you step off the third to last step and fling yourself into his arms. Pero catches you easily and gives you a twirl before placing you gently on your feet, then places a less gentle kiss to your lips. With a few hurried murmurings of devotion - I missed you. You look beautiful. I still can’t believe you’re mine - you break apart and head to breakfast.

When the two of you enter the dining room, you’re greeted exuberantly by your friends congratulating you on your recovery and expressing their delight that you’re well enough to rejoin them. Your father hugs you and you think you detect a knowing smile gracing his face, but you’re too soon seated with platters of food being offered and pushed towards you for you to be sure. It’s a happy occasion but also slightly awkward – you’re seated next to Pero, but you have to pretend that nothing has changed between the two of you. Trying to cheerfully chat with your father and friends, you find yourself unable to give the conversation your full attention because you trying with all your might to hold in the most wonderful news of your life, and with it, your overflowing happiness. It doesn’t help that Pero finds increasingly mischievous ways to secretly touch you throughout breakfast: foot reaching over to playfully nudge yours, gently squeezing your thigh under the table. When he purposefully brushes his hand down your arm and over yours in order to reach for the butter dish, you gasp in surprise - his touch out in the open sending a warm thrill through to your heart. In response to your friends’ concerns, you have to lie and say you may still be feeling fatigued, and Pero, ever the menace, pats your shoulder affectionately and reminds you not to overexert yourself before buttering his scone with a smirk.

After your father finishes his meal, you nervously watch Pero hastily shove his last piece of food into his mouth before asking the Viscount for use of his office, and entreats your father for a word. Finishing your own breakfast as quickly as you can without drawing suspicion, you find your way to the closed office doors and pace outside impatiently. Try as you may, you cannot make out any of what is being spoken in the office, even when you press your ear up to the door. After what feels like an eternity, the door opens and Pero exits; not the least bit surprise to find you outside, he whispers in your ear as he walks by, “Your father wishes to see you now, Dulce. Come find me afterwards. I will be upstairs writing a letter.”

The Count welcomes you into the office with open arms and you immediately fly into your father’s loving embrace. As he continues to envelope you in the warmth of his joy, he chuckles, “Well, dearest, I think your old father deserves some acknowledgement for being right.”

Pulling away from him, you look at the face that’s so much like your own, eyes crinkled in mirth and a smile big enough to rival yours, “I concede, Father - you were right. And I have never been so happy to have been wrong!”

Your father’s already expressive eyes shine with an extra brightness, “All I have ever hoped for is your happiness, my dear. Pero is a good man, like his father before him and he has given me every assurance that he will cherish and take care of you the way you deserve. I shall rest easily knowing that you will be in his capable hands… and he in yours.”

What did you ever do to deserve such a brilliant father who has given you the most wonderful life? You ponder this as you walk up the stairs after telling your father that you love him and saying goodbye for the day. You suspect you’ll never discover a satisfactory answer, but can only hope you can one day bestow the same unconditional love and support upon your own children.

You find Pero sitting at the corner desk in the drawing room where some of the Bridgertons are relaxing: Eloise and Colin reading, Francesca tinkering at the piano forte, Daphne looking over some correspondence of her own. Approaching him silently, you look over his shoulder and whisper, “Mi rey, to whom are you writing?”

Smiling at your Spanish endearment of choice, Pero responds without looking up from his task, “I am writing my king, Dulce, and asking him for his permission to marry.”

Ah right, you consider that the Count could very well be penning a similar letter to the queen at this same moment, “What happens if he refuses, Pero?”

“Then I abscond with my new bride and we live like pirates on the run,” smiles Pero, still not looking up.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” you grin.

Pero finally sets his soft gaze upon you, “Nothing can be so bad if you are by my side, mi reina.”

He looks at you with such devotion and affection, you can’t help yourself - you cup his perfect face in your hands and bend down to kiss him. Pero returns your soft, gentle kisses with his own, nothing urgent, nothing hurried – just a moment of tenderness that couldn’t have been restrained.

You don’t break apart even when you hear the successive gasps of your friends or even when Colin cheers, unable to part from Pero’s lips even a moment sooner than you need to. When the two of your finally look up, it’s to the sight of the Duchess standing with her hands on her hips and a beaming smile on her face, “Do you two have something to tell us?”

You and Pero attend all of the remaining season events as a happily engaged couple. Pero, no longer scowling all by his lonesome against the wall, but standing tall and proud next to you; his hand laced through yours or comforting and firm on your lower back as the two of you receive congratulations from the ton. He drinks in the jealous looks from your former suitors and inwardly chuckles a little at the conceding grumbles from the mamas who proclaim with surprise that they didn’t know he had been looking for a wife. His stoic countenance cracking just a little at their poorly concealed scandalized faces when he replies that he hadn’t been. For your part, you don’t notice any of this; you only have eyes and ears for Pero. Your face hurts from smiling so much – it’s all you can do to tear your eyes away from your handsome fiancé in order to respond politely to the questions you receive from curious members of the ton.

You still dance every dance, floating on air as you traverse the floor in the strong arms of your dashing Spaniard; now that there is no danger of some other man whisking you away from him for the next dance, Pero quite enjoys the dance floor. He holds you closer than he probably should, chests touching and faces so close that the gentle fan of your breath curls over his lips; his hands find themselves placed low on your back during the waltz, dipping scandalously close to where he really wants them to be, itching to squeeze the plush globes of your ass. If anyone was to make a comment to you about it, you would giggle and simply say that your fiancé is a passionate man.

And he is. A passionate man, that is. Under his grave and steely visage, Pero is a man who yearns for and craves the woman he loves, hungry for you at all times. Such a man is not made of infinite restraint - the limits of Pero’s self control having already been sorely tested for the past few months. As such, whenever an opportunity to escape the rigid formality of these events would arise, Pero wasted no time whisking you away for himself.

At the Grand Picnic, he steals you away to a secluded spot in the gardens where he proceeds to kiss you so fervently and passionately that you actually get dizzy. He presses you against the base of some winged sculpture and hungrily licks and sucks down your neck, all while you cover your mouth with your hands, hoping against hope to contain your moans and soft whimpers. The stone angel watches from its perch as Pero trails his mouth down past your collar towards the swell of your breasts, already rapidly rising and falling. Pressing feather light kisses to the tops of your breasts, Pero drinks in your breathy giggles when his scruff tickles you, before diving in devilishly, lapping at your ample curves and the valley in between. As you start to pant from arousal, Pero finds himself most ardently wishing that your tits would break free of their fine silk confines and spill into his mouth.

A la mierda, he thinks and glides his tongue into the sliver of space between your dress and skin, dragging it across your chest until he hits your hardened nipple; having found his prize, Pero dives in, straining with his tongue to stroke your peak harder and faster. When he leverages enough space with his chin to wedge in between your soft skin and the fabric of your dress, Pero takes your breast into his mouth and sucks while groping your other breast with his hand, finding the twin nipple already straining against your gown, aching to be played with. The combined sensation has you grabbing at Pero’s hair and pressing him closer to you; with your hands now otherwise occupied, your gasps and moans spill unfiltered from your open mouth. The obscene sounds Pero pulls from you must start to carry, because soon you hear voices getting nearer to where you and Pero have now frozen, his mouth buried in your chest; he places one last chaste kiss to tops of each of your breasts before the two of you giggle and run hand-in-hand out of the gardens.

At the Opera, Pero secures a box on the second mezzanine for the two of you. With most of the ton preferring the orchestra seats or boxes closer to the stage, you find yourselves alone in the secluded alcove nearer to the house balcony. Once the lights dim and the overture starts, Pero takes your hand in his and you lean on his shoulder, relaxing into his closeness. By the time the audience is enjoying the soprano’s heart-breaking aria in the third act, Pero has his left arm thrown around you and the knuckles of his right hand are ghosting over the front of your panties where he finds them already damp from want.

“Keep your eyes on the stage, Dulce,” he whispers in your ear as his thumb draws slow circles over your clit. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from crying out, trying with all your might not to let your whole body react to Pero’s teasing lest it draws the attention of the opera house attendees sitting on the balcony or in the boxes on the opposite side of the hall.

Pero is patient. And thorough. He takes an inordinate time exploring the shape of your pussy - running his thumb then fingers over the outline of your slit and the hardening form of your clit, eventually cupping your mound and letting you grind down on his palm to give you some of the friction you so desperately seek. He toys with you over the fabric of your underwear for the remainder of the 3rd act until your panties are completely soaked through. Only once the 4th act is underway does he slip his hand down the front of your underwear and start to run his forefinger through your folds.

“Pero…” you sigh, spreading your legs wider to allow him more freedom of movement.

“Doing so good for me, mi amor,” he whispers back, continuing his smooth, teasing strokes, dragging your sticky arousal through the valleys of your seam and trailing it up to your clit, spreading it over and around your bundle of nerves before returning his fingers to your wet core. He repeats this over and over, alternating the speed and pressure of his fingers, never letting you settle into a complacent state. Quite the opposite – you feel like your body is on fire.

Willing yourself to breathe through your nose as evenly as you can, you focus on the soprano’s finale song before the ensemble gathers for the finale; just as the singer hits the high notes of her solo with a warm vibrato, Pero pushes a finger straight into your heat and you whine in harmony with her. Slowly he pumps his finger in and out of your tight hole, nearly losing control with the way you clench as he drags along your warm warms; Pero feels you hum around him as pleasure you’ve never felt before radiates throughout your entire body. The squelching sound of Pero working your cunt are thankfully masked by the musical drama unfolding on the stage, and Pero uses the opportunity to ask you if you’re ready for another.

Seeing you nod as subtly as you can, Pero murmurs, “Good girl,” before adding a second finger to join the first. Oh. You’re so full. It’s a stretch, but the sting pairs perfectly with the devastating pleasure now coursing through your veins as Pero slowly drives his fingers into you. Staying with a slower pace until you start dripping down his wrist, Pero’s fingers now start to thrust faster, keeping tempo with the musical build that the ton in the orchestra is enjoying, clueless to your lascivious activities above them.

When Pero presses his thumb to your slippery clit, you surge forward and grab onto the balcony banister for stability, nearly in danger of drawing the attention of unwanted eyes. Refusing to ease up in his efforts on your cunt, Pero continues to push you closer and closer to your high, his fingers never faltering from their punishing pace until you come and cry out in tune with the finale’s final chorus. While the rest of the audience applauses when the curtain falls, Pero’s praise is only for you - purring that you did so good for him and kissing you gently as his slips his slick covered hand back into his glove.

At the Hastings Ball, you’re the one feeling bold. Having arrived at your friend’s estate a week prior to help the Duchess with preparations, you familiarize yourself with the grounds and all the intimate, secret corners perfect for intimate, secret things. Once all the guests have arrived and the festivities have begun in earnest, you sneak off with your fiancé, leading him down a hidden staircase into the Duke’s impressive wine cellar. With all of tonight’s refreshments having already been pulled from inventory, you know no one will be coming down here during the ball; you’re free to touch, feel and love on Pero in all the ways you desire. Once Pero realizes the amount of privacy you’ve been afforded, he’s like a dog unleashed, stalking and cornering you into a wall with a growl, sniping at your neck with his teeth and lips, pawing at your soft curves already on display for him in your pretty ballgown.

Here in the cellar, while you still cannot be loud, but you don’t have to be quiet – the cavernous room echos your quiet moans and Pero’s deep grunts like a soundtrack of pleasure that’s percussed by heavy breathing as the two of you drown in one another. Lips attached to yours, but eyes kept open to take in your lustful expression, Pero spies an unopened crate out of the corner of his eye and smiles against your mouth, “Come here, Dulce. Let me show you something.”

After letting him lead you to the crate, you allow Pero to help you on top before scooting you back so your legs no longer dangle over the edge. Grinning, you ask playfully, “What, pray tell, do you wish to show me, Barón?”

“Want to show you how I’m going to make my pretty wife feel good every day we are married,” Pero looks at you, eyes dark, as his starts to ruffle up the many layers of your dress. You giggle as his pushes through the yards of fabric with a feigned annoyance, bunching it up for you to hold against your chest like an overstuffed pillow. Once Pero is satisfied with his unfettered access, he gently pushes you to lean back on your elbows, hands still laid prettily on your pillow of dress skirts, eyes watching your handsome fiancé’s movements. Pero leans over the edge of the crate and rubs your silk stocking covered calves with his big firm hands as he starts kissing up your leg starting from where your stockings end mid thigh. Every kiss he leaves on your skin gives you a shiver as the cool cellar air hits the imprint his lips leaves behind; then, as he gets closer to your heat, he starts to open mouth kiss where you’re the most sensitive, dragging his tongue back and forth over these tender spot and leading you to throw you head back and close your eyes in heady desire. When he repeats this fog inducing pattern on the inside of your other thigh, you start begging, “Pero, please… please, my Lord, ple-pl-please!”

Nipping at your sensitive flesh with his teeth, Pero smirks against your leg, “What do you need, mi reina?”

Opening your eyes, you nearly buck into his face when you see Pero’s roguish expression peeking up at you from between your wide spread legs, “Touch me please, mi rey.”

“Here?” he asks, with pretend innocence before he dives in and starts devouring your pussy over the fabric of your underwear without waiting for your answer. This feels different. So much like his fingers but even more sensual, intimate, wild. Pero mouths and nuzzles your cunt with a precision only rivalled by that of his tongue; his tongue has a mind of his own, gently prodding, exploring, reaching where his lips can’t. Pero's hands reach up your legs and hook under the band of your soaked panties and you catch him look at you before he murmurs “May I?” directly into your cunt. The vibrations of his question run through to your chest and it’s all you can do to nod quickly before you watch him pull the frilly undergarment down your legs and have them drop to the ground. Already completely wrecked, Pero takes in your glistening folds, wet and primed, and growls, “Look at this perfect pussy. And she’s all mine.”

You run one hand through his soft curls and grip his hair so he’ll look at you, smiling lazily, already unbelievably blissed out, you promise, “All yours.”

“Mine,” Pero repeats, and then he buries his face into heaven.

The sensation is overwhelming in the very best way. Pero is eating you, no, devouring you like a man starved; every press of his lips to your pussy somehow deeper and hungrier than the last, as his tongue licks every crest and wave of your core and marks them for his own. Your slick pools from you, down your backside and dampens your gown beneath you; the wet noises from Pero’s mouth against your folds echo obscenely around you and your voice cannot help but try to add in its own harmony. All of this makes you feel like a worshiped goddess about to ascend her alter and simultaneously like a wanton whore who knows that true heaven lies in the bodily pleasures of this mortal realm. Then, as Pero’s mouth closes over your clit and he starts to flick your throbbing nub with his tongue, you realize in your daze that no, what you are is something better than either of those two things: you’re the woman who is marrying Barón Pero Tovar. That’s the thought that overflows from your thumping heart and pushes you over the edge, coming on Pero’s face as you chant his name in a grateful prayer.

After the Ball, you’re positively exhausted from purposefully overdoing the socializing after returning from the wine cellar so no one would recall your long absence. Yawning, you’re giving your hair a final brush when you hear a soft clink against your bedroom window, followed shortly by another, then another.

Confused, you approach your window with slight trepidation, and upon looking out, you think at first that your tired eyes must be deceiving you. Below your window, gazing up at you, is Pero. He looks devastatingly handsome; yet to undress – Pero is still in his formal breeches, but his white shirt has been unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, exposing his smooth, tanned skin to your admiring gaze. You might lick your lips at the sight. Giggling as you tiptoe down the stairs, you walk out onto the terrace that hangs off the sitting room directly below your bedroom, greeted by Pero’s blinding smile, “Barón, what are you doing here?”

It's an easy climb up the side of the wall to the terrace level for Pero and his long legs; once he’s standing directly in front of you, he answers, “I could not sleep without seeing you one last time, Dulce.”

Where did this man who adores you so openly and without reservation come from? You throw your arms around his neck and pull him in for a gleeful kiss; you adore him too, after all.

Still grinning, Pero jokes, “And as I recall, it is my turn to call upon you in the dead of night from beneath your window in order to rouse you from the comfort of your bed chamber.”

Although he has no such intent, Pero’s words immediately transport you back to the night you realized your feelings for him… and how you had left his house, devastated upon the discovery that he was not alone. Stilling in your movements, you shrink away from Pero a little; none of this goes without notice.

“Dulce, are you okay? I’m sorry, I did not mean to imply there was anything wrong with these late-night meetings, but if you prefer to go back inside, I understand.”

You shake your head to let him know you’re not upset by that, but still your expression remains slightly sad and hurt. Pero bends at the knee to meet your eye, “Mi amor?”

You’ve never lied or kept anything from Pero in all the time you’ve known him, and now that you’re his fiancé, you’re not about to start. Looking at the ground next to you, you mumble, “I’m sorry, I was just remembering the night you’re alluding to; when I interrupted you… with those two women.”

When Pero doesn’t answer, you wonder if he’s upset with you for having disturbed him that night, and you look up to meet his eye finally, trying to give him a brave smile, “Please do not be upset with me. I did not know you had company, which would have been entirely your private business, to which I know I am not entitled. But if I must be honest, I do not particularly enjoy imagining you with other women.”

Pero has to stifle a laugh; if only you understood the war that raged in his chest every time a suitor placed his hand on your waist for a dance or when you would laugh at their jokes with that twinkle in your eye he loves so much – then you would not feel as if you had to hide these feelings from him.

Stroking your jaw gently, Pero tips your face to his, “Dulce, I could never be upset with you. Firstly, you are entitled to all my business, private or not. Secondly, the women to which you refer were not there by my invitation – Lord Ridlington had sent them to my house that evening as some sort of prank. In his words, maybe if the Barón got laid, he would not be such a stick in the mud. Nothing happened with those women, I promise, mi amor. When you arrived, I was right in the middle of arranging for a carriage to take them home. And thirdly,” Pero walks you backward until your back hits the wall; he braces an arm above your head, and towering over you, grips firmly onto your waist with his other hand, “how could I ever even think of another woman when there is you? You with your pretty face, and your sweet smile, and your heavenly laugh. You with your witty quips, and your melodic voice that says the smartest things, and this gorgeous body…”

Pero’s voice trails off as he starts to kiss down your neck and his strong hands start to move up and down your sides in unison, then separating so one can reach up to massage your breast and the other down to grope your ass. Your head tips back to allow Pero more access as you melt into his touch - he’s everywhere at once, overwhelming all of your senses. Kissing down to your breasts, Pero finds them available to him in a way he has yet to experience, your thin night dress much flimsier than the gowns you wear during the day; he can already see your nipples poking up through the fabric, hard and inviting. Without warning, he ducks and takes one in his mouth, teasing and sucking in tandem with your loud gasps and moans.

“Oh Pero, right there, oh- nghhh, please that feels so good!” you cry out breathily. Spurned on by your praise, Pero frantically rucks up the skirts of your nightgown and slots his thigh between your legs, pulling you down to sit. The pressure and friction on your cunt sends a wave of pleasure through you, amplified and extended by Pero’s tongue and lips laving their attention on your breasts. He encourages you to rock against his thigh, using his grip on your waist to help you find an enjoyable rhythm, and once you’ve found one that catches your clit on the flex of his leg, his hands leave you to your work and travel up your body to pull down the front of your night dress, exposing your tits to the cool night air and Pero’s darkened gaze.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, as he leans back to admire everything before him: your naked curves, your hardened peaks begging for his attention, and the sight of the woman he loves getting off by rubbing her pretty pussy all over his thigh. He thinks he’s minutes away from combusting.

Instead, he dives right into your chest, mouth and tongue licking, kissing and nibbling, hands groping, pinching and pulling all your delicious parts so that he can bring you to your second orgasm of the night. While tugging at your nipple with his teeth, he hisses low, “Were you jealous, Dulce?”

Half out of your mind from pleasure you gasp back, “Yes!”

Growling, “Good,” Pero sucks in a mouthful of your breast and kneads what he can’t fit into his mouth with his hands, panting out words when he should be taking in breaths of much needed air -

Now you know how I felt.

When some other man would touch you.

When you would smile at your suitors.

When you didn’t know I would burn the world for you.

You cry out at his confessions, gripping the back of his head and pulling him closer to you still; increasing your rocking, you’re chasing your own high when your knee brushes up against something hard, something big. When it jumps at your touch, you use your knee to stroke Pero’s length with every pass of your pussy over his thigh.

Your breasts now wet from Pero’s mouth, the cool night air’s chill against your skin causes you to tighten in Pero’s arms as he continues to electrify you with his hands, his mouth, his tongue, his words -

Never need to be jealous ever again, Dulce.

There’s only you.

Never want anyone else.

Don’t need anyone else.

You’re my everything.

Mine.

You come to his loving and possessive declarations, singing back your own - Yours, yours, yours. Body violently seizing and shuddering, Pero holds you close as you ride out your high. As you continue to buck against him, he crests to your desperate whimpers and breathless panting – his eyes never leaving your face, mesmerized by the sweet blissed out expression that he pulled from you. Finally opening your eyes, you grin lazily at the sight of your lover smiling at you, calming down from his own summit; and when you feel the dampness of his trousers against your bare knee, you giggle in pride and pull Pero back to you lips for a flutter of happy kisses. As he walks you to the door to the waiting room, you hardly give him a moment without a light peck on his lips, cheeks, neck – not sure you’ll be able to stand being apart from Pero for even a few hours of sleep.

Before he leaves you, Pero cups your face in his large hands, whispering against your lips, “I’m yours,” and you smile back and press your mouth to his before returning, “Mine.”

You marry at the end of the season in late June with the blessing of the Spanish king to do so in England. The ceremony itself is wonderful and your gown is gorgeous, but you hardly remember anything save for how handsome Pero looks waiting for you at the end of the aisle and how he and the Count both had tears in their eyes for most of the wedding. What you remember much more vividly is the fun you and your friends had when preparing for the nuptials. Days and nights filled with laughter, play fighting over flower arrangements, tearful promises to never let distance impact your friendship – you thank the Bridgertons over and over for their love and support during this season and bringing you to Pero; you can never repay them. When you board the ship to your new home, it’s not without tears as you say goodbye to your friends and father; everyone sends you off with mirroring sentiments and promises to visit soon.

If the Tovar estate servants had any concerns or misgivings about having a foreigner as mistress of the house, you soon win them over with your kind and gentle nature; your cheerful and easy-going demeanor overriding any language barrier, which with their help and your dedication, you were overcoming more and more every day. And if there were any remaining whispers, be they among the members of the Spanish court, villagers, or any one else, they were quickly quieted once the concerned party bore witness to the ferocity of your love for your husband and his obvious and complete devotion to you. The older house staff observed quite readily that they hadn’t seen the Barón smile as much as he did since he was a boy. The newer servants declared that prior to his marriage, they had not seen him smile at all.

One morning, only two months after landing in Spain, you wake to find yourself alone in bed for the first time since you and Pero got married. Deciding it unnecessary to ring for your ladies’ maid (Lucia, a delightful woman whose English was improving as much as your Spanish), you throw on a dressing robe over your night dress and pad downstairs, sure you’ll find your husband in the dining room having breakfast.

As usual, you’re right; for a few minutes you remain standing in the doorway, admiring your handsome hulk of a husband as he shovels the remainder of his breakfast into his mouth. You love the way he eats… everything - with voracity, unabashed hunger, like he can never get enough. Strolling in only when you see him push aside his empty plate in favour of a pile of letters and paperwork to begin reading, you thank the footman who had already seen you and plated you a warm breakfast, before you approach Pero’s chair. Dancing your fingers across his broad shoulders, you slide onto your husband’s lap before laying a soft morning kiss to his lips, “Buenos días, mi rey.”

“Buenos días, mi reina,” Pero kisses back, turning his full attention to you as he always does.

“Te echo de menos esta mañana (I missed you this morning),” you pout, although you’re not really upset with him in any way.

Pero smiles at you indulgently, “I thought you might like to get some extra sleep.” He nuzzles your ear and you can hear him smile, “Considered you might be tired after your activities last night, Baronesa.”

You giggle and pull him in for another kiss, your cheeks get hot just thinking about the multiple orgasms that Pero pulled from you with his talented fingers, mouth and cock; you purr back and pepper his scruff with kisses, “Very thoughtful of you, Barón.” Your eyes soften, “No me gusta despertar sin ti, Pero (I hate waking up without you, Pero).”

Pero kisses your temple, “My apologies, Dulce. How can I make it up to my pretty wife?”

You squirm in his lap; a thrill still runs through you when you hear him refer to you as his wife, and you start to plant breathy kisses to the spot right behind his ear that you know drives him crazy.

“Already? Is my wife so insatiable?” chuckles Pero, though his voice his has dropped to that low baritone register that makes your stomach flip. You nod into his neck and start to run your fingers through his soft curls, tugging impatiently at the ones at the base of his neck.

“Déjanos por favor (leave us please),” Pero calls out politely. The servants in the dining room leave at once and close the doors, some smirking - all the servants having gotten used to their master and new mistress’ voracious appetite for one another. The younger servants were mainly amused and some even found it romantic; the older servants acting scandalized, but secretly pleased to see such a happy marriage on the estate after so long.

“Sit up here, mi amor,” Pero pulls you off his lap gently and directs you up onto the dining room table; you move his papers aside and push his flatware out of the way. Teasing him, you quip, “I thought you already had breakfast, my lord?”

“I’m ready for seconds,” growls Pero as he pulls up his chair and seats himself between your legs. Licking his lips greedily, he unties your robe and peels it open to reveal your lacey nightgown underneath. Lifting up the skirt to reveal your already wet and waiting naked cunt, he murmurs, "Delicious," before lowering himself to meet you where you already need him so desperately. Aware that you might still be sensitive from the previous night’s sex, Pero is careful with you – his licks and strokes to your folds are gentle and slow, he mouths and sucks your clit with tenderness and reverence, and when he presses two, then three fingers into your tight hole, he does so with restrained worship. It’s only when you cry out for more, more, more, that he quickens his pace and fully presses his mouth to you, tongue tangling with your sensitive bud before nibbling it between his teeth. Your moans and debauched sounds of rapture have never been restrained in this house, your house – and you come with a desperate and enchanting scream befitting the blinding pleasure now electrifying your body.

Kissing up your nightgown and planting loving open mouth kisses to your breasts before letting you taste yourself, Pero licks into your mouth and whispers, “Te amo, mi reina,” before standing back to unlace his pants.

Your mouth waters as you watch your husband free his cock; no matter how many times you’ve taken him in your hands, your mouth, your cunt, you’re still in awe of its size and the things that Pero’s length can do to you. Whenever you feel the stretch of him entering you, you always recall the first time and how gentle he was as he pushed in. When you remember the tenderness in his voice and face as he made sure you were comfortable, putting your pleasure before his – your heart always blooms with overflowing love for this man. How did you get so lucky? Pero would of course always say that he’s the lucky one, and then show you just how deep his affection for you runs by thrusting with intensity, punching that spot inside that makes you see stars, over and over – the exact way he’s doing so now. “¡Cómo te amo, Pero!” you whimper again and again, and by the way he continues to drive into you, you know he believes you. Folding himself over you so that he can bury his face into your neck and nip at the delicate spot at the base, Pero's pants and groans have you arching your back and fisting his hair just for something to hold on to lest you float away.

“I’m close, Dulce. Come with me,” Pero growls, snaking a hand between your bodies and finding your clit with ease. Drawing quick circles over your swollen nub, you feel the coil beneath your belly tighten and tighten until it snaps and you throw you head back chanting your husband’s name as you fall over the cliff. Not far behind, Pero’s pace falters before he spills into you with a long and low grunt in your ear that shoots straight to where you’re joined as one.

Weak, limp and perfectly satisfied, you let Pero pull you into a sitting position and kiss him deeply and sweetly as both of your breaths start to even, the heaving of your chests slowing in unison.

Forehead resting against yours, Pero catches your still dazed eyes and gives a small nod towards the papers that had been pushed aside and forgotten, “Dulce, I’ve been charged with accompanying His Majesty’s naval fleet to Naples, Italy. Would you join me?”

Smiling because you know he already knows the answer, you nod, “Of course, mi amor. I’ll start making the necessary arrangements today.”

Pero tilts his head, eyes soft and reassuring, “Are you okay with leaving? We will have only been home for a few short months.”

Cupping your husband’s face in your hands, you gaze adoringly into his eyes, “My home is where you are, Pero.”

Pero closes his eyes and pulls you flush against him, with him still softening inside you, you’re as close as two people can be. He tips your face to his and whispers, “You’re my home, Dulce,” and all you can do is sigh in unsurpassable happiness as he presses his lips to yours once again.

I've never done a tag list before so please let me know if it doesn't work, or you don't/do want to be on it, or it sets your phone on fire 😅 @drewharrisonwriter @inept-the-magnificent @tuquoquebrute @stcrrjoon @anoverwhelmingdin

@callsignmedusa @wintersquirrel @toobsessedsstuff @starwarslover-81 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29

#pero tovar #regency!pero tovar #bridgerton au #pero tovar fic #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar smut #pero tovar series #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #no y/n

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delimeats-000 · 1 year ago

Text

Just the Editor

summary: chris teasing the podcast editor takes a little turn

warnings: language, make outs, dry humping

requested.

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im editing a podcast for THE sturniolo triplets. this is big, like huuge. these guys got me through senior year of hs, and now im their editor, like wtf.

on the set beyond the wall that divides us i can hear the guys laughing with one another.

they’ve been recording for about 2 and a half hours. they should be done soon and come check the final product of the last pod i edited.

soon enough they finish their current recording and come to the editors office.

“Hey y/n/n.” nick says.

“Hey nick.” i get out of my chair to hug him and greet the other boys. “Im pretty much done if you guys wanna take a peek on the last episode.”

“Oh i have a meeting with madi and laura that matts gonna drive me to.” nick hesitates. “If chris is up for it he can stay and watch.”

“Yeah i can come pick him up after the meeting.” matt chimes in.

“Ok sounds good.”

no it doesn’t, two of three triplets gone leaving me with the third that i just so happen to be absolutely smitten over.

matt interrupts my thoughts, “Alright cool. We’ll be back.”

“Be good Chris.” nick laughs before heading out the door and closing it behind him.

i turn to face chris. i hope to god he doesn’t see how nervous i am.

“Ok so you ready?”

“Uhh yeah, you got pepsi?”

“Yeah there should be some in the fridge downstairs.”

“You wanna lead me over there? Please?”

“Of course.” i stand up and quickly walk to the foor opening it for him.

“No no, ladies first.” he winks.

fuck.

“Thanks.” wtf, THANKS, dumbass.

he laughs tho, ok cool, play it cool.

we walk down the stairs and into the kitchen in silence.

“Do you want one or two?” i say bent over in the fridge reaching for his pepsi. he steps close behind me, resting his hand on my lower back.

“Lemme get two, just in case.”

“ok.” i feel weak, his hand feels so firm and strong.

compared to the cold room i was in his hand is hot and the temperature change makes me shiver.

“Are you ok?” he asks as i stand up.

“Yeah just cold.”

“Here take my sweatshirt.”

before i can decline the offer he’s already taking it off revealing a wife beater that lifts halfway up his torso as the sweatshirt comes off. my eyes go wide and i dont get the chance to fix my expression before he notices the blush on my face.

he laughs softly, “Here goof, put it on.”

i take the sweater and put it on.

“You look good.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem, lets go watch the pod.”

“Yeah.”

my face is most definitely flushed, im hot, genuinely burning up and the sweater is making this worse now, but it smells so good. i cant take it off, not yet.

“Ok here you go.” i pass him my laptop and headphones so he can watch the pod on the loveseat in the office.

“Yo, you’re not gonna watch with me?”

“Uh, i guess i can.”

he scoots over and hands me the other headphone. he presses play. i cant even focus on the video in front of me, all i can think about is the fine ass man right next to me. shoulder to shoulder i swear i can feel his heart beat. there’s no way in hell im playing this cool. i just know im shaking. please god dont let him notice.

but he does anyways.

he pauses the video, “Is everything ok.”

i dont want to look him in the eyes, im gonna give it up. “Mhm, yeah.”

“Look at me.” he says quiet and gentle. but i dont look.

he grabs my face turning me towards him.

“I said look at me.”

he’s serious this time, his tone still quiet but now firm.

“Sorry.” i mumble.

“Shh, don’t apologize.” a smile grows on his face. “Whats on your mind?”

i shrug, struggling to make eye contact.

“Tell me, baby.”

im sure he could see the shock on my face because his subtle smirk turned into a soft chuckle.

“you’re pretty, chris.”

“You think so?”

i nod my head quickly.

“You’re beautiful, y/n.” he leans closer. “Can i kiss you?”

i nod once more before his lips land on mine.

he starts slow speeding up the kiss getting more rough. his tongue now caressing mine. he slowly runs his hand down to my neck and lets the other rest on my hip.

his sloppy kisses lead down my neck and i feel him leaving his mark. i let out a moan from the sharp pain, as i reach to grab his hair.

he bites harder making me let out another moan before he lets go, breathing hard he says, “Keep moaning for me, baby.”

“Yes sir.” i say as he goes back to making out with me.

i straddle his waist taking control grinding on his dick feeling the bulge grow larger.

“Fuck. Ke-keep going.”

now kissing down his neck and grinding against his hard cock, ive got him moaning for me.

then.

there’s a knock.

“Heeeyy.”

its nick. he opens the door to me struggling to get off chris. chris is completely unfazed as im absolutely embarrassed.

“Chris.”, matt laughs. “You didn’t.”

Nicks jaw completely dropped he turns around and walks out of the room.

Matt daps up chris before leaving too.

Chris stands up walking towards me, “Call me ok?”

i nod and he kisses my cheek before heading out the door.

i fall back onto the loveseat in utter disbelief.

“He forgot his sweatshirt.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅��⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

dialogue key: nick - matt - chris - y/n

hope you like it, love you 🫶

EDIT: Pt 2 Out Now

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #new writers on tumblr #reader insert #requests are open #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #fanfics #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo

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daniclaytcn · 2 years ago

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BUCK & EDDIE IN EVERY EPISODE ↳ 6.13: mixed feelings (2/3)

[Image Description: 10 gifs of Evan Buckley and Eddie Diaz from 9-1-1, season 6, episode 13.

Gif 1: Two gifs on a large canvas. The first gif, a shot of Buck and Eddie standing amongst the other firefighters in the loft in the station, looking satisfied as they wave their hands. Eddie says, "Okay. Come on, pay up." Buck says, "Let me see it. Yeah." Second, a shot of Buck and Eddie walking close together as Eddie neatly snatches the money out of Buck's hand, saying, "A fool and his money are soon...parted."

Gif 2: Two gifs on a large canvas. The first gif, the camera panning down to reveal Buck and Eddie, walking through an alley. Eddie is dressed in a blue suit jacket and a black turtleneck; Buck is wearing a burgundy suit jacket over a black button-up. Buck adjusts his jacket as he asks Eddie, who is on his phone, "So, what's with the fancy dress code?" The second gif, Eddie tucks his phone into his inner pocket, saying, "It's a nice place," as Buck continues to stare at him in confusion.

Gif 3: Two gifs on a large canvas. The first gif, looking hesitant, Buck stops Eddie, who turns around to face him with a sigh. Buck says, "Wait, wait. H—Hey, a—are we sure about this?" The second gif, Eddie reassures Buck, "Relax. It's a good place to put your new skills to use. Then maybe we can put 'em to use in Vegas."

Gif 4: Two gifs on a large canvas. The first gif, standing with his back yo the delivery entrance of a restaurant, Eddie says to Buck, who has just said that this is not gonna end well, "It's a low-stakes game." The second gif, a shot of Buck and Eddie next to each other, Eddie with a small smile, Buck looking startled, at the sight of Julie Rosen, who opened the door for them.

Gif 5: 2 small gifs, and one larger one on a large canvas. The first gif, while following Eddie and Julie into the restaurant, looking slightly alarmed, Buck whispers to Eddie, "Uh, hey, this isn't some kind of mob establishment, is it?" The second gif, Eddie looks over his shoulder at Buck, amused, and says, "It's a different kind of family." The third gif, the scene opens into a fancy-looking bar with warm and muted lighting. Buck pauses at the foot of the stares, smiling in surprise. Eddie walks over to greet the others with a wide smile.

Gif 6: Two gifs on a large canvas. The first gif, a shot of Captain Mehta, who winks at Eddie as he shakes his hand. The shot cuts to Buck, watching them, his smile fading slightly. The second gif, Eddie is already seated at a poker table, next to Julie. Buck makes to sit down close next to him.

Gif 7: Two gifs on a large canvas. The first gif, Mehta has just said that he can't believe Buck survived the lightning strike, to which Chief Williams replies, "Let's see if he survives tonight." Eddie smiles fondly at Buck, scrunching up his face when Buck turns his head to look at him. The second gif, Eddie in focus in the background of the shot as he corrects Chief Williams by saying that Buck was dead for three minutes and seventeen seconds. Buck is blurred in the periphery of the shot, looking serious and somber.

Gif 8: Two gifs on a large canvas. The first gif, a shot of Buck and Eddie sitting close together, Eddie raising his eyerbows at Chief Williams and Buck looking up at her, slightly alarmed. The second gif, Eddie watches intently as Buck pulls over a pile of chips to himself after winning the first round.

Gif 9: Two gifs on a large canvas. The first gif, Chief Williams has just said, "I've heard people that get struck by lightning sometimes develop special skills." Buck's eyes slightly widen and he glances over at Eddie before asking, "Uh...skills? Like, uh...like what? Woodworking?" The second gif, Buck looks over at Eddie again after Chief Williams says, "High-functioning stuff, like languages or music. Or math. You know, counting." The shot cuts to Eddie who swallows slightly as he says, "I'm out. Too rich for my blood."

Gif 10: Two gifs on a large canvas. The first gif, a shot of Buck leaning his head on his hand, smirking cockily at Williams and Mehta. It cuts to Eddie, now standing behind him, a gentle smile on his face. The second gif, after Buck sweeps the table yet again, it pans to Eddie smiling brightly and then turning and ducking his head.

/End ID]

#scheduled post #911edit #911 fox #*#tuserksn #userisha #usermaripal #userkourt #useralie #userceecee #usertriz #userpaolo #usercorinne #alielook #evanbuckleyedit #eddiediazedit #*buddie #buddiedit #tuserdaria

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piracytheorist · 5 months ago

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Welcome to the Twilight Eyes Project!

This is basically my excuse for yet another rewatch of the entire anime, with parallel comparison with the manga :D My point during it is to get screenshots of Twilight's eyes during crucial moments, and sort each one of them into one of three categories, with a bonus fourth:

Twilight eyes

Loid eyes

Real eyes

Sad eyes

Based first and foremost on Endo's styling choices in the manga:

First:

"Twilight eyes": They're narrowed, focused, even at times that he's alone and not directly facing a threat. They're meant to show us he's fully alert.

Possible sub-category, focus on investigative eyes:

Second:

"Loid eyes": They're wide open, usually accompanied by a crafted smile, portraying a willingness that looks almost uncomfortable if you know better, as the audience does. They're meant to show us that he's making himself look nonthreatening, welcoming, trustworthy, pleasant enough for someone to spill all their secrets to. A clear manipulation tactic.

Third:

"Real eyes": Moments when, most likely unbeknownst to him, his eyes lose both the narrowed, calculating look and the over-willing, forced smiling look. Instead, his eyes pick up on his emotional state and express it fully.

Bonus:

"Sad eyes": Panels and shots focusing almost exclusively on his eyes, that usually portray a deep sadness. They're separate from Twilight eyes, because even though they're narrowed, it's in emotion and not focus, and they're separate from the "Real eyes" category because in their particular case there's direct focus on his eyes. And it's usually a sad expression, therefore the title.

Of course, there are times that his eyes have a neutral expression, or an exaggerated comical expression. Those won't be featured here, this is mostly a study on how he swifts between focus and cover, and on the times some emotions slip through his look.

This post series will be tagged "sxf tep" along with related fandom tags, if you want to follow through it, and I will mostly analyze one anime episode per post, unless there's too little content (where I'll combine two or more episodes in one post) or too much content (where I'll break the post in two parts).

Reminder that I am anime only, I don't want manga spoilers, and I won't analyze screenshots from manga chapters that haven't been adapted yet, as I haven't actually read any past chapter 59, which was the last to be adapted. I will post my usual reminder at the end of each post.

#note: I haven't actually started any posts lmao #as soon as I post this I'll start with the first episode #wish me luck lol #Spy x Family #sxf tep #sxf Twilight

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sassenach77yle · 5 months ago

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||COUNTDOWN ||SEASON 2 EPISODE 02 || NOT IN SCOTLAND ANYMORE||

#83daysofoutlander☆

I closed the door of the drawing room quietly behind me and stood still a moment, gathering courage. I essayed a restorative deep breath, but the tightness of the whalebone corseting made it come out as a strangled gasp. Jamie, immersed in a handful of shipping orders, glanced up at the sound and froze, eyes wide. His mouth opened, but he made no sound. “How do you like it?” Handling the train a bit gingerly, I stepped down into the room, swaying gently as the seamstress had instructed, to show off the filmy gussets of silk plissé let into the overskirt. Jamie shut his mouth and blinked several times. “It’s … ah … red, isn’t it?” he observed. “Rather.” Sang-du-Christ, to be exact. Christ’s blood, the most fashionable color of the season, or so I had been given to understand. “Not every woman could wear it, Madame,” the seamstress had declared, speech unhampered by a mouthful of pins. “But you, with that skin! Mother of God, you’ll have men crawling under your skirt all night!” “If one tries, I’ll stamp on his fingers,” I said. That, after all, was not at all the intended effect. But I did mean to be visible. Jamie had urged me to have something made that would make me stand out in the crowd. Early-morning fog notwithstanding, the King had evidently remembered him from his appearance at the lever, and we had been invited to a ball at Versailles. “I’ll need to get the ears of the men with the money,” Jamie had said, making plans with me earlier. “And as I’ve neither great position nor power myself, it will have to be managed by making them seek my company.” He heaved a sigh, looking at me, decidedly unglamorous in my woolen bedgown. “And I’m afraid in Paris that means we’ll have to go out a bit in society; appear at Court, if it can be managed. They’ll know I’m a Scot; it will be natural for folk to ask me about Prince Charles, and whether Scotland is eagerly awaiting the return of the Stuarts. Then I can assure them discreetly that most Scots would pay a good price not to have the Stuarts back again—though it goes against the grain a bit to say so.” “Yes, you’d better be discreet,” I agreed. “Or the Bonnie Prince may set the dogs on you next time you go to visit.” In accordance with his plan to keep abreast of Charles’s activities, Jamie had been paying weekly duty calls on the small house at Montmartre. Jamie smiled briefly. “Aye. Well, so far as His Highness, and the Jacobite supporters are concerned, I’m a loyal upholder of the Stuart cause. And so long as Charles Stuart is not received at Court and I am, the chances of his finding out what I’m saying there are not great.

Jacobites in Paris keep to themselves, as a rule. For the one thing, they haven’t the money to appear in fashionable circles. But we have, thanks to Jared.” Jared had concurred—for entirely different reasons—in Jamie’s proposal that we widen the scope of Jared’s usual business entertaining, so that the French nobility and the heads of the wealthy banking families might beat a path to our door, there to be seduced and cozened with Rhenish wine, good talk, fine entertainment, and large quantities of the good Scotch whisky that Murtagh had spent the last two weeks shepherding across the Channel and overland to our cellars. “It’s entertainment of one kind or another that draws them, ye ken,” Jamie had said, sketching out plans on the back of a broadsheet poem describing the scurrilous affair between the Comte de Sévigny and the wife of the Minister of Agriculture. “All the nobility care about is appearances. So to start with, we must offer them something interesting to look at.” Judging from the stunned look on his face now, I had made a good beginning. I sashayed a bit, making the huge overskirt swing like a bell. “Not bad, is it?” I asked. “Very visible, at any rate.” He found his voice at last. “Visible?” he croaked. “Visible? God, I can see every inch of ye, down to the third rib!” I peered downward. “No, you can’t. That isn’t me under the lace, it’s a fining of white charmeuse.” “Aye well, it looks like you!” He came closer, bending to inspect the bodice of the dress. He peered into my cleavage. “Christ, I can see down to your navel! Surely ye dinna mean to go out in public like that!” I bristled a bit at this. I had been feeling a trifle nervous myself over the general revealingness of the dress, the fashionable sketches the seamstress had shown me notwithstanding. But Jamie’s reaction was making me feel defensive, and thus rebellious. “You told me to be visible,” I reminded him. “And this is absolutely nothing, compared to the latest Court fashions. Believe me, I shall be modesty personified, in comparison with Madame de Pérignon and the Duchesse de Rouen.” I put my hands on my hips and surveyed him coldly. “Or do you want me to appear at Court in my green velvet?” Jamie averted his eyes from my décolletage and tightened his lips. “Mphm,” he said, looking as Scotch as possible. Trying to be conciliatory, I came closer and laid a hand on his arm. “Come now,” I said. “You’ve been at Court before; surely you know what ladies dress like. You know this isn’t terribly extreme by those standards.” He glanced down at me and smiled, a trifle shamefaced

“Aye,” he said. “Aye, that’s true. It’s only … well, you’re my wife, Sassenach. I dinna want other men to look at you the way I’ve looked at those ladies.” I laughed and put my hands behind his neck, pulling him down to kiss me. He held me around the waist, his thumbs unconsciously stroking the softness of the red silk where it sheathed my torso. His touch traveled upward, sliding across the slipperiness of the fabric to the nape of my neck. His other hand grasped the soft roundness of my breast, swelling up above the tethering grip of the corsets, voluptuously free under a single layer of sheer silk. He let go at last and straightened up, shaking his head doubtfully. “I suppose ye’ll have to wear it, Sassenach, but for Christ’s sake be careful.” “Careful? Of what?” His mouth twisted in a rueful smile. “Lord, woman, have ye no notion what ye look like in that gown? It makes me want to commit 💥 on the spot. And these damned frog-eaters havena got my restraint.” He frowned slightly. “You couldna … cover it up at bit at the top?” He waved a large hand vaguely in the direction of his own lace jabot, secured with a ruby stickpin. “A … ruffle or something? A handkerchief?” “Men,” I told him, “have no notion of fashion. But not to worry. The seamstress says that’s what the fan is for.” I flipped the matching lace-trimmed fan open with a gesture that had taken fifteen minutes’ practice to perfect, and fluttered it enticingly over my bosom. Jamie blinked meditatively at this performance, then turned to take my cloak from the wardrobe.

“Do me the one favor, Sassenach,” he said, draping the heavy velvet over my shoulders. “Take a larger fan.”

9 THE SPLENDORS OF VERSAILLES

#outlander #the frasers #outlanderedit #outlander starz #jamie fraser #outlander series #outlander fanart #samheughan #jamie&claire #jamie and claire #outlander books #dr claire randall #claire beauchamp #claire fraser #caitrionabalfe #outlander season 2 #outlander 2x02

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kining-the-evil · 2 years ago

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Can i request a James Wilson x f!reader where they’re married and the reader takes the place of House in the episode where he gets shot.

Heartbeat

Summary: Nothing brings a fighting couple together like a life threatening event

Warnings: being shot, arguing between reader and Wilson, angst, house being a bitch, reader is House’s sister

“I really don’t know what you want y/n,” James mumbled through his hands. His desk was a mess, something that always drove you crazy. The entire time you’d known the man you went out of your way to clean it and eventually he got used to it, even poking fun at you when you did. Today would not include that sort of teasing.

“You know exactly what I want, you just don’t want to actually do it.” You argued back. This was the third time James had stayed at the hospital over night, except last night he didn’t stay here. He went to your brothers.

“I- I had work to get done-“

“Thats what you were at Greg’s?” You watched as his face morphed slightly. He knew you’d caught him in his lie.

“He told you?”

“No. I was tired of sleeping in an empty apartment so I went to see my brother. Your car was parked out front.” The silence made the room feel heavy, and your husband was looking everywhere but at you.

“I don’t… i didn’t mean…I was going to come home. But…I just ended up there,” he attempted to explain.

“Thats why you told me you wouldn’t be home before I went home?” He didnt answer, fully aware it was a rhetorical question. “Its nice to know we are no longer in the ‘honeymoon phase.’ How else was I ever going to know when you were going to start trying to make me ex wife number 4?”

“Thats a low blow.”

“No, its a low blow for others. For your wife, its a perfectly reasonable concern!” He finally pushed himself away from his desk to stand up, reacting to how your voice was raising.

“Please just, calm down for a moment.”

“I have been calm! How many times have I defended shit you do? How many times have I forgiven you!” You yelled at him. “You promised you would be better this time!”

James just stared at you. It could have been because he didn’t know what to say, or because you’d never yelled at him like this; but you didn’t really care.

“You know what James, if you want to be like this then you can stay at Greg’s house for a while. I don’t want to see you.”

You didnt wait for an answer this time, simply leaving his office in a huff. Your next stop was your brothers office so you could chew him out.

“Gregory House!” You yelled, throwing the door open. All three of his lackeys turned to look at you while Greg made a face.

“Full name, that cant be good.”

“Why the hell did you not tell me?”

“Tell you what?” you gave him a look, making him sigh. “I assume you just got done yelling at Wilson?”

“I told him he could stay with you for a while, seeing as you didn’t have an issue with it last time.” The other three doctors watched the two argue, unsure of what they should do. It felt wrong to watch, but they didnt want to draw attention to themselves by leaving either.

Before you could continue yelling at him, the door to the office opened and another man walked in.

“Are you Doctor House?”

“No, he is.” Greg pointed at Forman, not looking away from the obvious staring contest happening between the two of you.

“Im an old patient.”

“You can leave the gift basket on my desk-“ he stoped talking, eyes wide, making you turn to see what was happening. You didnt even see the gun before you felt a sharp pain in your neck, and then your abdomen. You felt yourself run into your brother as you stumbled backwards, and he quickly helped you to lay down.

He was talking to you, but the ringing in your ears was to loud to hear him. You brought your hand to your stomach, bringing it up slightly to see your hand covered in blood. You must have been shot.

You let your eyes slid shut for a moment, and when you opened them again you were laying on what felt like a bed and the ceiling was flying by. You caught a glimpse of Cuddy, and you could feel hands on both your neck and stomach. Your breathing was labored, and blood was stating to fill your mouth. You coughed, attempting to expel the liquid, and Cuddy glanced back down at you.

“Your going to be ok y/n.”

You nodded slowly, but the pain in your neck quickly put a stop to it. You let your eyes slip closed again, and when you opened them again a few doctors were surrounding you and you were no longer moving. In the corner of your eye you saw James, and you attempted to say something. Though you weren’t sure what. Instead, a mask was put over your face and the already fuzzy world got even fuzzier.

You attempted to reach out in James’s direction, but your arm felt to heavy. You let your eyes slip closed for a third time, knowing you wouldn’t open them again for a while.

•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

Everything hurt. That was the only though you had as you woke up a bit. Every part of your body was soar, and your head felt like someone had been beating on it with a hammer. After a few moments of laying there, you opened your eyes slightly. Thankfully, the lights in the room were turned down making it slightly more bearable. A glance around the room told you you were alone.

You reached up, feeling around your body a bit. Your neck felt the worse, which made sense since there was multiple bandages and a draining tube sticking pit if the side. Your stomach also had bandages, and there was a small bit of blood on it.

“You look like shit.” You glanced up to see your brother leaning against the doorway.

“Funny,” you groaned. “How bad?”

“You got a bullet lodged in your neck and abdomen. They removed them, but you lost a lot of blood and you flatlined for two minutes.” You listened, calculating what that would mean. Two minutes without air could cause brain damage.

“He was trying to shoot me.” You glanced back at your brothers face, seeing an emotion that was rare for him. Guilt. “He had an std after cheating on his wife and I had to tell her. She ended up killing herself; he wanted to kill me. You got in the way.”

You weren’t sure what to say. One thing the two of you didnt have a lot of practice with was sharing emotional moments together. No mater what the emotion was. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know.”

It was silent for a few minutes after that. Neither of you really knowing where to go from there. “Where’s James?”

He smirked lightly at your question. “He snuck off to see his mistress, he’ll be so disappointed that you pulled through.”

“Im not in the mood Greg.”

“Relax. He should be back any second.” He leaned back to glance down the hall. “Speak of the devil.”

James pushed past his friend, slightly out of breath. “Is she ok-“ he stoped when he saw you awake. “Thank god.” He mumbled, a smile in his face.

“Hi,” you whispered, a smile of your own on your face.

“I’ll give you some space, but don’t go to crazy.” You couldn’t help but role your eyes at your brothers sarcasm, but he did leave the two of you alone.

“Im sorry.”

The words were out of his mouth before you even had a chance to think about saying something to him.

“What?”

He walked over, sitting in the chair next to your bed. He reached out taking a hold of your hand, careful of the iv in it. “I have been, awful the past few weeks. My own insecurities got the best of me, and because of that you’ve suffered. When Cameron got me, I immediately thought, ‘what if I lose her?’ When they told me you flatlined-“ he cut himself off with a shaky breath. You let go of his hand, reaching up to touch his face; whipping away a tear. “When they told me that, all I could think about was that the last moment I would have spent with you was arguing. Not say I love you, not seeing you smile; that last time I would have seen you was with you glaring at me.”

“James,” you whispered to the man. “I’m ok.”

“I know, but what if you weren’t?” He had tears running down his face, which told you just how upset he was. James took after your brother, his emotions being just as hard to read at times.

“Im sorry for yelling,” you apologized. “I’m just scared to be another one of your ex wife’s.”

“I messed up my other relationships, Im not doing it again.” He assured you. “And I will do anything to show you.”

“I just want honesty. Dont hide, or go running to my brother. Talk to me.”

“I will.” He promised, letting his head lean into your hand as he rubbed light circles in your wrist. He leaned down, intending to kiss you but you turned your head away.

“I can not possibly look kissable right now.”

“You Look beautiful.” He tried, but you shook your head.

“I have a tube in my neck draining a mix of blood and puss. I can promise you that’s not attractive.” He just smiled at your words, shaking his head.

“You could throw up blood on me and id still kiss you.”

“Liar.” He laughed at the look you have him to accompany the word.

“Ok, ok, that may be an exaggeration. But I still want a kiss.” That time you let him lean down and connect your lips. It wasn’t long, but it left the promise of more later.

“Oh come on, you can do more then that.” James exhaled on your face, making you chuckle as Greg walked in. “If you go a little further then I get $100 from Forman.”

“You could always not make bets on our person life,” James offered.

“But what’s the fun in that?” He pushed a few buttons on your iv, making your frown.

“What Are You Doing?”

“Uping your Morphine, dont tell cuddy.” He Held a finger up in a shushing motion.

“God, I love you,” you smiled. If you were going to be shot, you might as well feel good for the night.

“Now that you’ve done your little crying make up thing, you should go shower.” James started to argue, but Greg just cut him off. “You haven’t moved to two days. How am I going to make the $100 of you stink?”

“Ill be fine,” you assured your husband. He didnt say anything, but nodded and stood up. He placed a small kiss on your forehead before leaving the room. Greg watched him walk away before look back at you.

“Thank god you made up, he is the worst roommate.”

“Shut up before I throw something at you.”

#house md #house md x you #james wilson x reader #james wilson #greg house x sister!reader #gregory house x sister!reader #request

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galaxysupreme17 · 2 months ago

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Grey's Anatomy Saturday

Y/n = Your Name

AgathaRio x daughter!reader!

The early morning sunlight spilled through the windows of the Harkness-Vidal household, bathing the living room in a soft, golden glow. Despite the early hours, the space was already alive with bustling energy. Y/n and Agatha were on a mission, and that mission was transforming the room into the ultimate binge-watching haven.

Blankets were draped over the couch and piled on the floor in an inviting chaos. Plush pillows of every size and color formed a makeshift fort, creating a cozy nest. The coffee table groaned under the weight of snacks: bowls of popcorn, chips, candy, and an almost comically large jar of pretzels. A cooler sat beside the couch, stuffed with sodas and bottled water, within arm's reach of their soon-to-be-claimed spots.

"This," Agatha announced, standing back and surveying their handiwork, "is how you properly prepare for Grey's Anatomy. Snacks, comfort, and an open heart ready to be crushed by drama."

Y/n laughed, tossing yet another blanket onto the couch. "You make it sound like we're performing some sacred ritual, Mama."

"It is a ritual," Agatha shot back, fluffing a pillow for the third time. "And don't forget, young lady, this was your idea. You're the one who suggested we relive all the heartbreak and medical mayhem."

"Because it's our thing!" Y/n declared, plopping onto the couch with a satisfied grin. "We've been planning this for weeks."

"Which is why everything must be perfect," Agatha replied, her tone dramatic as she smoothed the corner of a blanket.

As Agatha stepped back to admire their setup, Rio strolled into the living room, drawn by the commotion. She stopped in her tracks, her hands resting on her hips as she surveyed the scene.

"What on earth are you two up to?" Rio asked, her dark brows arching in amused disbelief. Her gaze flicked between the mountain of snacks, the tower of blankets, and the meticulously arranged pillows. "And why does it look like you're preparing for the end of the world?"

Y/n grinned at her mom, completely unbothered by the critique. "We're binge-watching Grey's Anatomy! It's our favorite show."

Rio's skeptical expression deepened as she folded her arms across her chest. "The one with the overly dramatic surgeons who spend more time hooking up than actually saving lives?"

Agatha gasped, clutching her chest in mock outrage. "How dare you insult Grey's Anatomy in this sacred space? It's not just a show, Rio—it's an emotional journey. It's about love, loss, resilience, and fighting for what matters."

"Sure," Rio replied, smirking. "And absolutely no medical accuracy. I've seen enough clips to know that much."

"Mami," Y/n said, stepping toward her with a playful pout. "You can't judge it by a couple of clips. It's amazing. And we're starting from the very beginning—prime TV."

Rio tilted her head, the corners of her lips twitching upward despite her best efforts to look unimpressed. "So, you're telling me you two woke up at the ass crack of dawn to set this all up for a melodrama about attractive people pretending to be surgeons?"

"Exactly!" Agatha said, nodding enthusiastically. "And we're inviting you to join us. Just think about it—a whole day of food, blankets, and top-tier storytelling."

"I don't know," Rio replied, her tone teasing as she tried to play coy.

Agatha didn't have it. She crossed the room and looped her arms around Rio's neck, looking up at her with a playful smile. "Come on, my love. Don't knock it until you've tried it. Stay and watch a few episodes with us."

Y/n clasped her hands together in an exaggerated pleading gesture, her eyes wide. "Please, Mami? Just a couple of episodes. You might actually like it."

Rio sighed dramatically, but her resolve was already crumbling. Her gaze softened as she looked at her daughter's hopeful expression and her wife's mischievous grin. "Fine," she relented. "But only a couple of episodes. Don't get carried away."

"Yes!" Y/n and Agatha cheered in unison, grabbing Rio's hands and practically dragging her toward the couch before she could change her mind.

By mid-morning, the first episode was rolling, and the iconic theme music played as the opening credits faded into Meredith Grey stepping into Seattle Grace for her first day. Y/n was curled under a blanket, nestled against Agatha's side, her head resting on her mama's shoulder. Agatha had her arm draped comfortably around her daughter, her fingers occasionally brushing Y/n's hair. Rio sat at the far end of the couch, her arms crossed and her expression carefully neutral, though her gaze was fixed on the screen.

"Who's that?" Rio asked, gesturing toward Meredith as she walked into the hospital.

"That's Meredith Grey," Y/n explained, tilting her head slightly to get a better look at Rio. "She's the main character."

Rio tilted her head, narrowing her eyes at the screen. "She looks like she's either about to cry or perform surgery."

"That's her whole vibe," Agatha said with a chuckle, reaching over to grab a handful of popcorn from the precarious bowl on Y/n's lap.

Y/n laughed, adjusting the blanket to keep it from slipping off. "You'll get used to it, Mami. She's dramatic, but that's part of what makes her great."

"Hmm," Rio replied, clearly unconvinced but still watching.

As the episode unfolded, Rio's initial indifference began to crack. By the second episode, she had shifted closer, leaning slightly forward as her curiosity got better.

"Who's the guy who's acting like a complete jerk?" Rio asked, gesturing toward the screen where Alex Karev was making yet another snide remark.

"That would be Alex Karev," Y/n said, her voice tinged with amusement. "He's insufferable in the beginning."

"In the beginning?" Rio repeated, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not sure there's any redemption arc big enough for that guy."

"Don't count him out just yet," Agatha said, tossing a piece of popcorn into her mouth. "Grey's loves a good character turnaround."

Rio snorted. "We'll see about that."

"And what's George's deal?" Rio added a moment later, gesturing toward the screen again. "Why is he so awkward?"

"Because he's George," Agatha replied simply, her tone light but affectionate.

"Poor guy can't catch a break," Y/n chimed in, shaking her head as George stumbled over his words in yet another awkward interaction.

By the middle of the season, Y/n had slid off the couch and onto the floor, leaning against its base with a pillow propped behind her back. She had brought the popcorn bowl with her, though Agatha occasionally leaned down to grab a handful.

Agatha, meanwhile, had drifted closer to Rio. Rio's arm was wrapped securely around Agatha's waist, her thumb absently stroking small circles on her wife's side as they exchanged quiet comments about the show.

"This is ridiculous," Rio muttered as Derek and Meredith shared a lingering glance in the hospital hallway, tension thick in the air. Her voice was skeptical, but her eyes never left the screen.

"You love it," Y/n teased, glancing back at her mom with a knowing grin.

"I didn't say that," Rio replied quickly, her expression defensive. But the way she leaned forward slightly, her brows furrowed in concentration, betrayed her growing investment.

Agatha smirked, leaning into Rio and pressing a soft kiss to her temple. "Admit it, cariño. You're hooked."

Rio sighed dramatically, though a faint smile was tugging at her lips. "Fine," she muttered. "It's not the worst thing I've ever watched."

"Progress!" Y/n said with mock enthusiasm, earning a laugh from Agatha.

As the next episode began, Agatha strode a strand of Y/n's hair away from her face. "How are you doing, darling? Not too bored down there?"

"Not at all," Y/n replied, tilting her head to look up at her mama. "This is perfect."

Agatha smiled, her eyes soft as she gently ruffled Y/n's hair. "Good. I was worried we might have overhyped it."

"Never," Y/n said with a grin. "This is exactly what I needed."

Agatha leaned back into Rio, her hand resting lightly on Y/n's shoulder. "Well, we're not stopping now. We're in this for the long haul."

Rio chuckled, her tone teasing. "Speak for yourselves. I'm still deciding if I can survive all this melodrama."

"You'll survive," Y/n said with a laugh. "And you'll thank us when you get to the good stuff."

Rio rolled her eyes but didn't argue, her attention already back on the screen as another dramatic moment unfolded.

Agatha leaned her head against Rio's shoulder, her hand still resting on Y/n. "This," she said softly, her voice carrying just enough for both of them to hear, "is my kind of perfect day."

Y/n smiled, letting herself relax completely.

By the time they reached the final episode of the season, the sun had set, and the room was bathed in the soft, flickering glow of the TV screen. Once brimming with snacks, the coffee table now held empty bowls, crumpled candy wrappers, and a few lonely pretzels at the bottom of the jar. The three of them were bundled under blankets, their faces illuminated by the drama unfolding on the screen.

The tension in the episode hit its peak as Meredith, standing in the hospital hallway, was blindsided by the arrival of a striking red-haired woman who introduced herself with a jaw-dropping revelation: "Hi, I'm Addison Shepherd. And you must be the woman who's been sleeping with my husband."

The screen cut to black, and the season-ending cliffhanger left the room in stunned silence.

"What the—" Rio broke the silence, sitting upright and throwing her hands into the air. "That's it? That's how they end it? Are you kidding me?"

Y/n clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh while Agatha smirked, clearly enjoying Rio's reaction.

Rio gestured at the now-blank screen, her expression a mix of disbelief and indignation. "He has a wife? And he didn't tell Meredith? And then the wife just shows up like that? Who writes this madness?"

"It's iconic," Y/n said, unable to keep the grin off her face. She slid out under the blanket and gathered the empty plates and wrappers.

"It's cruel," Rio shot back, flopping dramatically back against the couch. "Who ends a season like that?!"

Agatha chuckled as she leaned over to pick up a soda can, shaking her head in amusement. "It's called a cliffhanger, cariño. Keeps you coming back for more."

Rio let out an exaggerated groan, sinking deeper into the cushions. "This is psychological warfare. How do people live like this?"

"You get used to it," Y/n teased, stacking bowls on top of each other. "Besides, you said you'd only watch a few episodes. Look at you now—hooked and ranting like a true fan."

Rio muttered something under her breath, though the twitch of a smile at the corner of her lips gave her away.

Agatha leaned into Rio's side, her arms wrapping loosely around her wife's waist. "Don't worry, mi amor. We'll pick it up right where we left off tomorrow." Her tone was warm, but a teasing edge made Y/n chuckle softly.

Rio crossed her arms, pretending to pout. "You'd better. I'm not going to sit here and wonder what happens next. I need answers!"

Y/n carried the plates to the kitchen, glancing back at her mom's as she passed the threshold. The sight of Agatha tucked against Rio, her laughter mingling with Rio's playful complaints, warmed her chest.

When Y/n returned, she plopped back onto the couch and pulled the blanket to her chin. "Well, Mami, now that you've survived a full season, what's the verdict?"

Rio gave her daughter a long, measured look, trying to appear unimpressed. But her resolve didn't last. "Fine," she admitted with a dramatic sigh. "It's ridiculous, over the top, and completely unrealistic... but I'm invested."

"Yes!" Y/n cheered, throwing her hands in the air.

Agatha chuckled, leaning her head against Rio's shoulder. "I knew you'd come around."

"I haven't come around," Rio argued, though her tone was lighter now. "I'm just curious. There's a difference."

"Sure, Mami," Y/n said, her grin widening.

The three of them settled back into the couch, the day's excitement giving way to a warm, relaxed atmosphere. Agatha's hand found Y/n's hair, her fingers combing through it absently, while her other hand interlaced with Rio's.

"This," Y/n murmured softly, her voice heavy with contentment, "is exactly what I needed."

Agatha kissed the top of her daughter's head, her voice equally tender. "Me too, darling."

Rio glanced between them, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You two have a knack for making the simplest things feel special. I like that."

Y/n grinned, her eyes closing as she let herself fully relax. "It's because we're awesome."

Agatha laughed softly, leaning further into Rio. "That we are."

As the house grew quiet, their bonds felt stronger than ever. It wasn't just the show that made the night memorable—it was the love, laughter, and shared moments that turned an ordinary binge into something extraordinary.

And no one needed to know if Rio was secretly counting the hours until tomorrow's binge.

#x reader #reader insert #agatha x daughter! reader #agatha all along #agatha x rio #rio vidal #agathario x daughter!reader #agatha harkness #agatha all along season 1 #agatha harkness x daughter!reader

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sonkitty · 7 months ago

Text

The Sideburns Scheme Post #102

(For reference: The Sideburns Scheme)

Crowley, Good Omens 2, Episode 6, Every Day, The Door Trick

...

Sideburns Check

The sideburns are longest-length.

My theory goes that it is mainly from a combination of stillness and Crowley's left arm being so focused on touching the threshold of his car that is his home.

...

Brighter Red Streak Check

For the first cut, I can't really confirm that the streak is a streak since Crowley's left-side hair tends to be more saturated anyway.

In the other two front-facing cuts, there does seem to be a thinner, findable streak.

...

Hairstyle Changes

Instead of the top hair above Crowley's left eye going more straight and upward, his overall top hair tilts to Crowley's right and curves upward. The streak is not as clearly defined for where it is.

...

Earthly Objects

(For reference: Earthly Objects | The Door Trick Visual Representation | The Pocket Chain Rainbow Connection Part 4: The Door Trick and The Door Catch)

Well, this is it.

Finally.

I am going to go over The Door Trick in detail after a lot more thorough play in trying to grasp the more advanced pocket mechanics of this game.

I'll start by saying I believe quite firmly that the core Trick of The Door Trick here is as follows:

Single accessory touch with the watch.

Double clothing touch with the jacket and pants. Double multiplier because the legs are crossed.

Triple skin-contact touch with the left hand. Triple multiplier because three fingers are touching each other.

These touches are considered simultaneous in the last video frame of the third cut of Crowley from the front.

There's a Rainbow Connection and imaginary Tied Hands doing more because of The Door Trick linking to The Door Catch, but that's the core nonetheless.

This Threshold Trick was the first one I found and when I started to grasp that the sideburns respond to thresholds.

...

Because of that pocket touch, Crowley is using the Pocket Chain found within The Pocket Trick.

The pocket touch itself resembles most of the touches within The Pocket Trick. It has the right hand fingers pocketed but keeping the thumb outside the pocket.

Since there are a million things happening, let's try starting from the bottom and working our way through where things take us in the first video frame.

There is a mirror on the lower left side of the screen. That means Crowley can see that his sideburns are the length they should be for this Threshold Trick. They are longest-length.

The mirror is also part of his Pocket Frame of Car Mirrors. This mirror is to his right. The rear view mirror inside the Bentley is to Crowley's left. The hood ornament of the car is drawing attention to itself and that mirror.

There are four humans to Crowley's right.

The one closest to Crowley just so happens to have their heel aligned against some lighting on Crowley's own shoes. The lighting is a hint that something is happening or being allowed. At a guess, there is a mirrored touch between the lower legs and one foot between this pair of characters.

This mirrored touch is captured into the wide open pocket Crowley has constructed between himself and his car.

The human's other foot then creates another pocket between it and Crowley's shoes.

Since Crowley is aiming for a double-clothing touch and the episode does not show his shoes again after this camera shot, my play and imagination goes with saying this human is taking Crowley's shoes to get them out of the way for the touch. Unlike Crowley's upper apparel with the jacket, the shoes are outside the pants.

There's a shoe locker idea I have, but let's put that idea on hold for now.

One of these four humans is carrying an orange bag. Orange is the current color in the Rainbow Connection. For this Threshold Trick, my play guesses that there are Bullet Catch magic word references. I think this one is "Fish" because the pattern on the skirt reminds me of fish scales, and I can't find any other visual references that I think are better.

Of note, the magic words are supposed to go, "banana, fish, gorilla, shoelace with dash of nutmeg," so they are out of order though the last will be ensured to be "dash of nutmeg".

The car door handles are visible on either side of the car, and I assume these door handles are the car's equivalent of doorknobs, which will be the Pocket Frame for the Metatron.

I think Crowley's crossed legs are reflected in the Bentley.

On Crowley's right, due to the design of the coffee shop, there are flames represented on that nearby structure.

Inside the car, his plants are visible. Due to the lighting, their green does not actually look all that green yet.

Over to Crowley's left are more humans. Eventually, we'll see some hats.

Crowley's left hand fingers look to be claiming Yellow, Green, and Black for use. The index finger is visually over a Green and Yellow sign. Zoomed in, I can't actually tell if the index fingertip is on one more than the other. His other fingers are visually over a human's Black attire.

Because of how things work out, my guess is that's to help Crowley's use of Black do things other than block and what he wants from his own imagination.

The face of his watch is visible.

His right hand CMC thumb joint is lined up with a jacket edge and Crowley's belt.

He has a self-made pocket of hair, and his left vest tip is near his Belt Head, probably to alert us that the Belt Head is active and playing its role in this Threshold Trick.

The sun can be found in the upper right corner of the screen and is to Crowley's left, above his left ear.

I have noted many times that I am left with the impression the sun here is supposed to be significant and acting as Crowley's Overhead Light for this Threshold Trick.

The sun is the most powerful source of light on Earth without actually technically being on Earth.

As the camera pans up and zooms closer, some things change.

In an earlier video frame, I suspect that the imaginary mirror of the Tied Hands has a Rainbow Connection Reflection and flips. A flip does not usually mean a switch to a new color, so I assume the Rainbow Connection is still on Orange.

Shoes on humans are shown as walking away in the car window pane behind Crowley.

There is an actual rainbow found between the left side of Crowley's torso and his left forearm. That's the official rainbow for this Threshold Trick. The rainbow places itself over the closed rear car window, the open front car window and well past the edge of the left forearm, questionably all the way to the other edge. This rainbow helps emphasize those shoes that are walking away in the window pane.

Time to play with some words for the shoe locker theory.

The word "locket" rhymes with "pocket". The word "locket" is associated with hair. Taking note of the "r" in "hair" and "rainbow," I'm going to change that "locket" word to "locker," so that the people on the sidewalk for this side of the street and passing by Crowley have a place where they can put their shoes until later.

It becomes evident that the Bentley's driver window is open. In The Pocket Trick Triple Part 2, my guess for a Rainbow Connection Reflection with Yellow happened with a human pocket user near an open window. Since Crowley is going to be stuck standing still and receive a lot of human assistance, including from pocket users, that is theoretically the reason that window is open, besides being useful for The Window Trick later.

For the rainbow mentioned earlier, that looks to be the game's cue that this rainbow is either what allows the incoming flips or is telling an audience player that the over-the-rainbow touches are due to how Crowley's apparel-to-car pocket is structured.

According to this post, the rainbow "doubles up," and there are two of them. Honestly, that's not what I see. The second seeming-rainbow is almost certainly contributing for whatever it is because great care is taken with the lighting overall, but I personally would not fully qualify it as an "official" rainbow because I can't distinguish its color set well enough, even with some tweaks in trying to edit the screenshot with brightness or saturation. Still, there is going to be a link to the Pocket Chain, and two characters are going "up" later.

Another thing that happens as the camera pans up and zooms in as that a car with headlights shows up on screen. That looks to be at least a general callback to The Pocket Trick Triple Part 2 and giving the Belt Head an Overhead Light, before the belt is fully obscured from view with the zoom.

Crowley's left thumb and its thumb joints are cast in shadow, but they are there. He's going to be relying on a different human for the usual hinge touch that his own actual thumb joint manages.

This cut is front-facing view of Crowley #1 out of 3. He will get 3 shots for his part of this double act with Aziraphale.

...

Up next is a back view of Crowley as we see the Metatron and Aziraphale walking.

This cut has both Aziraphale and the Metatron with their feet visibly on the ground as they walk toward the pub.

There is a human wearing all black. She has a black bag and a black hat. As she hurries along, she is slightly hunched over. She passes along the sidewalk near the pub before Aziraphale and the Metatron reach that area.

As she passes, yet another human visually passes in front of her.

The one in black is my guess for the "Gorilla" of the magic words.

The other is wearing a striped shirt and has some brown. She'll be swinging her arm as a visual representation for the Tied Hands since they'll be aiming to use Rainbow Connection Reflections twice for Yellow.

Through basic word association of Gorilla, Tarzan, Jane, I name this human, "Jane."

Another notable human rides along a scooter. I don't know if they're doing anything really important besides the general clue about the shoes and Ground Zero or helping to handle the Rainbow Connection, but they do stick out as someone with a self-made pocket using their legs.

Eventually, another human appears in front of Crowley. She is wearing a mostly black hat and black jacket or sweater. I call her "Nutmeg" since she will eventually be the "dash of nutmeg" to link Aziraphale into the Pocket Chain.

When she appears is when a red alert seems to happen, but like I said, I'm hoping something somewhere is stalling the switch because of other things found in the upcoming cut.

Oh, I have an idea, given what happens frame-by-frame. The red alert can hold out and be stalled because when it appears, that's also when the Metatron's and Aziraphale's shoes are obscured from the camera by the car with that alert.

...

Now it's time for shot #2.

We are back to Crowley. His watch and left hand fingers are obscured by the car.

A lot is happening for the Rainbow Connection here.

Nutmeg has moved from being on the street to being on the sidewalk. She has some of her boots in the cut but not the actual bottom of those boots. She has her right hand aligned specifically with its thumb joints along a red line that's part of her attire. My guess is that's something hinge-related to pass along to Aziraphale. Her Black is blocking out anyone or anything from taking it until that "dash of nutmeg" later.

Behind her is another human with an orange jacket. This one is my guess for "Shoelace."

The type of shoes she wears are what we U.S. English speakers call....sneakers.

Why would the scene hide everyone's shoes but let that one lady show her sneakers? Oh...oh...it's because the sneakers sneaked by the shoe locker. Haha.

Because the shoes are sneakers, her shoelaces are visible.

Based on what I've read, British English is more likely to call them trainers, so they could alternatively be trained enough to sneak by.

Speaking of silly puns that appear here, I can finally share this one that I've been sitting on for months.

Take a look at this image with the red lines:

Do you know what those are?

Can you guess?

Do you know how I "know" that Crowley's the one who's going to summon the elevator?

Those are...Holey Crowley pockets to help Aziraphale get into Heaven.

Ba dum tss.

This game is so ridiculous. How dare they make such a joke with all this ~drama~ happening.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh yes, the Rainbow Connection.

A lot of it is covered here, The Pocket Chain Rainbow Connection Part 4: The Door Trick and The Door Catch, so I'll be simplifying things some.

Shoelace has her left thumb joint aligned with a lapel edge of the jacket. Crowley will be using that hinge touch instead of having his actual left thumb joint do it.

After Shoelace shows off her shoelace, reflection trickery takes in her hinge touch and switches the Rainbow Connection to Yellow #1 while also flipping the mirror for the Tied Hands. Yawning Yellow and Banana contribute to making it happen.

Shortly after that, more reflection trickery causes a skip to Purple and back so that Yellow can be hit twice. As such, the Connection reaches Yellow #2 and another mirror flip. There's something akin to a color wheel involved with humans and their bags fully pocket-framing the "Life begins after coffee" sign.

Part of such trickery involves the human most directly behind Crowley. That human is wearing a hat. He has a brown jacket and an excellent alignment of his arm with Crowley's existing pocket between himself and his car. That human's elbow is like the other side of a diamond from what can be seen of Crowley's left hand. I think of him as "Diamondback". He's also a pocket user himself.

Yet another significant human to the reflection trickery is one wearing a yellow shirt and dark gray vest. He has his left hand pocketed and his left arm making a pocket with his body. He is my guess for "Banana" with the magic words. His reflection appears in the two different window panes of the coffee shop during this cut. I assume he's helping out Yawning Yellow, Crowley, and ensuring there is a reflection involving the color yellow for the Rainbow Connection switches.

Because of the color skip, that means the Rainbow Connection is going up instead of down.

The goal for Crowley and Aziraphale is to actually switch to Green next, not Orange again.

So, along comes inadvertent assistance from the Metatron.

...

The next cut has Nutmeg link Aziraphale into the pocket chain due to how her bag strap aligns with another human pocket user near Aziraphale.

As this action happens, humans and Aziraphale pass by his ears in particular ways. Aziraphale places the something Crowley gave him back in his mouth.

...

Aziraphale stalls the Rainbow Connection by talking to the Metatron and asking a question.

Due to the mistakes in the Metatron's play, he enacts deflection, redirection, and disconnection. He's also lacking any Overhead Lights.

In the process, a miracle sound is heard for the elevator, but it's not clear who summoned it. The Metatron gave no indication he did it. Most of the miracle sound is similar to Aziraphale's though a little different. There's an extra hiss at the end that's more like something one would hear from Crowley.

Aziraphale himself seems surprised by it and turns his head in Crowley's direction.

I suspect Crowley due to his supernatural zone work that's been happening with the sideburns game and that silly pun mentioned earlier. Back in The Pocket Trick Triple Part 2, Crowley asked, "Do you need a lift somewhere?" Aziraphale declined.

But now, Aziraphale does need a lift somewhere, and Crowley has one ready by using the double meaning of "lift" for elevator.

Aziraphale looks over to Crowley.

Thanks to the word play with the advanced pocket mechanics, that look is Ground Zero of The Door Catch. There is zero ground in it. No one's shoes are on screen. We can't see the sidewalk, the road, or the floor of the elevator. Green is on screen with him, and the nearby humans are, I assume, assisting with getting that Green.

I've already mentioned the hidden message many times by this point, but nonetheless, there is one.

Aziraphale's thinking or saying, "Here goes nothing," because here we are at Ground Zero.

...

Now it's time for Crowley's shot #3 to finish The Door Trick.

A lot of the humans have cleared out of the way.

During this cut, Crowley's Green is ready.

One human is walking from behind Crowley and toward him. She will not pass him in this cut.

Instead, the cut will finish when Crowley's index finger is between the edges of of a black strap on her bag.

That's the Touch Point of The Door Trick. Most Touch Points in The Pocket Trick happen before the last video frame of the cut, but this touch is different since Crowley is working with Aziraphale.

His Pocket Chain reference of Door Windows from the Single of The Pocket Trick is actually all the way across the street with Aziraphale.

The watch is visibly touching the door.

Mainly through my own imagination and guessing at how games generally work, that's when the index finger and thumb are considered to touch his pants together.

Crowley's skin is visibly touching the door. Thanks to a pocket, the skin contact touch is separated into three parts.

It's the front edge of the door for the accessory skin contact touches, but still, he's touching the threshold of his own car door and avoiding the earthly object parts of it in the process.

Thus, he earns his Single, Double, and Triple at the same time here.

Because his legs are crossed, he earns a Double multiplier with the Double.

Because he has his pinky, middle, and ring fingers touching each other as they touch the door, he earns a Triple multiplier with the Triple.

This Threshold Trick was done by Crowley for Aziraphale.

...

I may as well cover The Door Catch since the two Tricks are linked.

Aziraphale's shot #1.

Aziraphale's shoes are shown on the sidewalk now that we're no longer at Ground Zero.

Before Aziraphale enters the elevator, his Green is ready.

Due to a pocket of light and two humans reaching it together at the same time, the Rainbow Connection switches to Blue and Purple at the same time.

...

Aziraphale's shot #2.

Aziraphale takes a breath. His bow tie touches his skin. He has his own Tied Hand(s) now. There's a little shine in the lower middle area of his teeth, that I assume is what Crowley passed to him through the kiss.

I don't know what happens to Blue for going back up, such as being nullified or accounted for through the Metatron's play or what, but the Rainbow Connection is starting to go up again.

...

Aziraphale's shot #3.

As Aziraphale walks forward, the shadows of the green leaves on his coat are visible.

Somehow, he's able use the shadows to stretch back, or something, to use them and switch to Green again.

A contributing factor is likely that Door Windows were the previous link in Crowley's Pocket Chain from The Pocket Trick Single. Aziraphale's collar is visually at the corner of one of the pub door windows in the first video frame of the cut.

In the last video frame of the cut, he has precise alignment with edges that are very reminiscent of what happens with touches in The Pocket Trick.

This last video frame is the Touch Point for The Door Catch.

For Aziraphale, he has a Pocket Frame of Elevator Edges.

As he moved forward, due to his play, the Metatron's reflection switched from having the Metatron's head reflected in both window panes to instead be in the window pane closest to Aziraphale and on Aziraphale's left.

This reflection is caught in a Magic Trick named The Door Catch, so that's supposed to matter even though I don't have better words or ideas besides this basic one. Clues are likely found in the 1941 minisode with the three-rope trick, but my play isn't good enough to put the pieces together.

My play is good enough to see that this video frame has Aziraphale with vertex touches involving his right arm and the Metatron's right arm. While no thumb joint is aligned with an edge, Nutmeg had one, and Aziraphale has that thing in his teeth. Somehow, those things are supposed to assist for what he needs of a hinge touch, while managing to not pass it to the Metatron, I am guessing.

Meanwhile, the Metatron has no such hinge involving his own thumb joints or anything I can find from human assistance or Aziraphale.

Because I'm familiar with the framing and types of things to look for, something else that I take note of is that his coat does not have its edges meet and avoids creating a pocket of itself.

For the Metatron, he has a Pocket Frame of Doorknobs.

He is pocketed between the doorknobs of the pub doors. However, in the elevator, its buttons are the equivalent of doorknobs so still considered his Pocket Frame. Possibly related, we never saw him cross the threshold from the street into the elevator. Crowley and Muriel both showed themselves to cross for entry. Aziraphale did here for his own entry.

The Metatron's index finger is touching his Pocket Frame.

Crowley has touched his Pocket Frames as well but usually avoids skin contact. His turtleneck made sure skin contact was avoided with Cars in The Pocket Trick Triple Part 2. His tie tassels were what touched the window pane of the Door Windows in The Pocket Trick Single. He did have some fingers touch door frames in the Double, but the index finger was not among them. Additionally, that was a rather different touch since it involved soon pocketing only his thumbs.

The Metatron doesn't care about his thumbs with his pocket touches. The whole hand goes in with his play.

...

Aziraphale's three shots are done, but there's one more thing to close out the whole Trick.

The Metatron uses a close-up touch of his index finger touching the button.

I am reasonably sure that Crowley has never used a close-up touch for his hand touches in The Pocket Trick.

Because of assorted clues about non-rainbow colors, my play interprets this overall move as the Metatron making a mistake.

Here's a findable poem about the non-rainbow shades.

Black blocks.

Brown borrows.

Gray shades.

White keeps.

The "H" of the Heaven button is gold, so it is not considered a proper Yellow by itself.

The gray in the elevator could shade it to Yellow, if the Metatron could do something like use his Brown to borrow it.

Crowley and Aziraphale want their Rainbow Connection to stay at Green and not switch to Yellow.

The design of the button itself is such that Black blocks out the Gray, and White keeps the gold as gold.

Thus, the gold is disqualified to allow a switch up to Yellow.

The really big mistake, I think, is supposed to be that the Metatron's left thumb CMC joint is not visible.

There might be other mistakes, such as using a close-up touch at all or the index finger touching the gold and the white at the same time so being over edges of a disqualified color.

But the main mistake I'm sure of is the left thumb CMC joint.

Only a little bit of his skin near his MCP joint is visible, so I suspect that that thumb joint is disqualified too.

The Door Catch is done.

The Rainbow Connection ends at Green thanks to a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

There are two more cuts before we get back to Crowley.

The Metatron breathes a sigh of relief, so that suggests he either doesn't know the game is happening or didn't pick up on the advanced pocket mechanics in play, if he does know the game is happening.

Aziraphale also takes a breath and possibly swallows that something that Crowley passed to him.

...

Story Commentary

The first time I watched Good Omens 2, this scene confused me so much, especially with the Metatron entering the elevator.

I didn't know who summoned it. I didn't know if I was supposed to know.

Things were happening too fast, and I had a lot of questions.

I had too many questions and too much confusion for the drama to hit me.

What's with the Metatron touching that button anyway? What is he, human? I see clues of both demon and human with him so am not really sure either way.

...

After months of play, I'm glad for the confusion and questions because I have a deep appreciation for the Threshold Tricks through playing The Sideburns Scheme and Earthly Objects.

I'm not sure season 3 will explain things to anyone's satisfaction, but I've found the games worthwhile enough to play nonetheless.

...

That's it for this post. Sometimes I edit my posts, FYI.

...

Main post:

The Sideburns Scheme

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