bruuhky

[kedaliya]

Fandom asks; @jasontoddiefor thank you for thinking of me

3 Ships You Like: shiguang, wangxian, kiamei

First Ship Ever: Likely drarry? Could have been McKay/Sheppard, come to think of it

Last Song You Heard: 偽物人間40号, prod. Wada Shimon, covered by Meychan and Hanamura Souta

Currently Reading: Dungeon Meshi

Favourite Children Book: Percy Jackson

Currently watching: Link Click season two (trying to, at any rate)

Currently consuming: Leftover lantern festival tangyuan

Currently craving: a white peach

I tag @burntrain, @aweekoftodays, and anyone else who happens to see this

[tiptapricot]

Man idk what ppl r talking ab TnB 2 fucking jammed

[fatecantstopme]

Hello! How are you today? I hope you are doing well today! I have read your stories well mostly of Dean and I fall in love with them! Your stories are just French kisses!! I was wondering if you are okay the the idea or available in Season 10 ep 1-3 Dean is the knight of hell but instead of Sam who found him, it has his wife or fiance reader? He doesn't harm her at all but all he wants to do is trap her and rail her all long day and night he willingly goes with her to the bunker. Something like that, I'm very sorry if it's accurate could it but smut and fluff if it's okay with you? If not that okie! Don't worry! I love your stories and Keep up on doing what you do best! Thank you and have a wonderful day!!

OMG STAHHHP. You're so sweet. I'm glad you like my writing--I love doing it! AND I LOVE THIS ASK SO FREAKING MUCH. I love you for giving me the opportunity to write Dean in the most dominating, degrading, aggressive way possible without feeling bad for making him like that. I love my soft!dom Dean...but I am so freaking into this...HOPE YOU LOVE IT!

Fiend

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x wife!reader

Summary: I mean...just read the lovely anon's request. So gooooood.

Warnings: An unnecessary amount of SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), choking, slight degradation, rough sex, oral (M & F receiving), face sitting, orgasm denial, Dean is very dominant. Cursing, canon violence, Mark of Cain bloodlust, use of pet names, slight domestic violence.

A/N: I 100% went overboard on this one and I have no regrets. Fair warning, it's insanely long. It doesn't follow the season 10 storyline perfectly, but we've got the core elements.

"Are you sure about this?" you asked softly.

Sam stared at you, a familiar dark expression on his face. "Do you want to find him or not?"

You closed your eyes and sighed quietly. Of course you did, but you didn't want to lose who you were along the way. "You know I do, but torture's not exactly my thing."

"It's a demon."

"Wearing an innocent woman."

"Fine. You stay out here, then."

You watched Sam enter the dungeon, clearly prepared to do whatever it took to find his brother. The first scream echoed through the hallway and straight into your chest like a knife. You couldn't stay there--didn't wanna hear what happened next.

You went as far away as you could, walking past the bedroom you hadn't entered since the night he'd died. Sam had been the one to discover he was gone--Sam had been the one who found his note. You'd cried yourself to sleep on the couch in the library, heart too broken to even move.

The next morning, you woke to Sam's shouts of your name, but nothing would prepare you for what happened next. Sam's frightened eyes met yours and all he said was "He's gone," before handing you a note.

It was Dean's handwriting. You were sure of it. All it said was "(Y/N), Sammy, let me go."

That was six weeks ago.

Simple as the request was, it wasn't something either you or Sam could do, nor could Castiel. The three of you loved that man too much to just let him go.

At this point, all you knew was Dean was gone and Crowley was with him. Dean's handwriting on the note was the only indicator he wasn't dead...but you'd watched him die. You'd held him in your arms. The only possible answer was that Crowley had gotten a demon to possess Dean's body and rode off into the sunset with him. What you didn't know was why.

**********

Torturing the demon hadn't exactly proven fruitful, but Sam did manage to find a case he thought was connected to Dean. He was convinced the death of a man named Drew Neely was related to demons--and possibly to the missing Winchester.

While it seemed like quite a stretch to you, you were willing to go with him to Wisconsin and find out what happened.

As per usual, you and Sam pretended to be FBI to get inside information on the investigation. Much to your surprise, when the local PD showed you and Sam security footage from the gas station where Drew Neely was murdered, you saw a very familiar face.

You'd know him anywhere--Dean Winchester, seemingly alive and well, being attacked by Drew Neely. You watched as Dean pulled the First Blade from inside his jacket and stabbed Neely repeatedly. As the other man died violently, you watched in horror as Dean's normally beautiful green eyes turned black as night.

You looked up at Sam, whose expression matched your own. It looked like Sam's suspicions were correct--Dean was in fact possessed by a demon. Your only thought was saving him, even though you knew you'd really only be saving his body. You'd be damned if you let some demon scum ride around in Dean's body forever.

When you left the station, Sam turned to you, eyes full of a mixture of sorrow and anger. "Wanna go to the gas station? See if there's anything there?"

You nodded, still a little too upset to do much talking. Sam placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. He knew full-well how difficult this whole thing was for you. This wasn't Sam's first experience with his brother's death, but it was a first for you. He could tell the loss was killing you slowly, especially with Dean's body being defiled by some demon asshole.

When you arrived at the gas station, you were both surprised when the clerk handed you Neely's phone. You wondered why he hadn't given it over to the police, but at the moment, you couldn't be bothered to care. You wanted answers and this phone might be the key.

"There's a text from a number not saved in the contacts," Sam said as he scrolled through the phone's contents.

You leaned forward to look at the screen. "An Abbadon loyalist," you mumbled. "Lovely. But who the hell told Neely Dean was even here?"

Sam shrugged as he pressed the call button, dialing the number on the screen. "Only one way to find out."

When the voice on the other end of the phone answered, the rage that had been simmering inside of you for 6 weeks finally overflowed. "Crowley, you son of a bitch!" you yelled.

The chuckle on the other end did nothing to ease your anger. "Well hello (Y/N). I was wondering when I'd hear from you. Can I assume your avenging Moose is there too?"

You were about to tear into Crowley, but Sam placed a firm hand on your shoulder and shook his head. You clamped your mouth shut so tightly your jaw began to ache.

"Where the hell is my brother, you son of a bitch?"

"Maybe if you were nicer to me, I'd help you."

"Why don't you just start by telling us why you sent an Abbadon loyalist after Dean in the first place?" you growled.

"How else was I supposed to keep the bloodlust at bay? The Mark wants what the Mark wants."

You inhaled sharply, the ache in your chest intensifying at his words. Even in death, the damn Mark of Cain was still torturing Dean.

"Where are you?" Sam tried again.

"Oh please, Samuel, as if I'm going to tell you. Your brother and I are having a grand ol' time together. I quite like this version of him. I'm sure you and (Y/N) are jealous over our new relationship, but I simply can't be bothered to care."

"If Dean wasn't possessed, there's no way he'd be with you," you seethed.

Crowley's laughter echoed through the phone, sending cold shivers down your back. "You think he's possessed? That's not how the Mark works, sweetheart."

The condescension in his tone made you want to crawl through the phone and rip his throat out, but you managed to bite your tongue.

"The Mark twists the soul--darkening it with each kill--until all that remains is darkness," Crowley gloated. "So you see, Dean isn't possessed by a demon, he is one. Not just any demon either—a knight of hell."

You took a step back, suddenly feeling incredibly nauseous. Out of all the scenarios that had run through your mind when Dean went missing, this wasn't one of them. There was no worse way to dishonor his memory--his legacy--than this.

You vaguely heard Sam yelling into the phone, but your mind was spinning too quickly for you to comprehend a single word. Your entire world had just been tipped on its head and you weren't sure how to find solid ground again.

You doubled over, breath coming out in painful heaves. Bile rose in the back of your throat and you found yourself hurling the limited amount of food you'd eaten all over the sidewalk.

You felt Sam's strong, comforting hand on your back as he tried to calm you. After several more dry heaves, you managed to stand back up, eyes bloodshot from the exertion.

Sam's gaze was gentle, but you could see the pain in his eyes. As much as you loved Dean, you knew Sam loved him just as much. You couldn't afford to break down now--not when the two people you loved most in this world needed you.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"No need to apologize, (Y/N/N). This is a lot to take in."

You simply nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

"I think I know how to find them."

Your head snapped up, meeting Sam's gaze with hope for the first time in weeks. "How?"

"I think I can track Crowley's phone."

You shot Sam a weak grin. "Thank god you're a genius. Let's go."

Before heading to Crowley's last known location, you and Sam discussed your findings thus far. You now knew Dean wasn't technically dead--which meant there was a slight chance you could use the ritual you'd tried on Crowley over a year ago.

There was a chance you could make Dean human again--and it was a risk you were more than willing to make. Knowing Dean was still in there--still alive--made you more reckless than you'd ever been. You were determined to bring him home, no matter the cost.

**********

You and Sam decided to split up, determining you had more of a shot at bringing Dean home that way. Sam went one route and you went the other, stealing a car to make your journey.

You didn’t realize it, but this decision would result in a cascade of events that would put you right in the crosshairs of the demon your husband had become—alone.

As you sped along the dark highway towards the Black Spur, you were left with nothing to do but listen to the thoughts swirling around your mind. Without Sam there to keep you occupied, your inner turmoil had begun to rear its ugly head.

Out of all the things you’d expected to happen when Dean died, becoming a demon had not been among them. Being possessed was one thing—being a demon was another thing entirely.

You knew exactly how Dean would feel about it, if he’d actually had the ability to feel, and it broke your heart. He was the strongest man you’d ever known, but this would break him. Even worse, you couldn’t even begin to imagine what you would feel when you found him.

You loved Dean Winchester with every part of your soul. He was your best friend, your lover, your partner, your husband. He was the man who never failed to make you laugh or bring a smile to your face. He held you when you cried, took care of you when you were hurt, and made love to you like you were the only thing tethering him to earth. But you knew that man was gone—all that remained was the beautiful body that once held the most incredible soul you’d ever known.

You felt the tears well up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Crying wouldn’t fix things and you’d done more than enough of that in the last month. Instead, you focused on what you were going to do when you found Dean.

You had no idea how you were going to convince him to come back to the bunker with you. You weren’t even sure he wouldn’t kill you if you tried to force him. You’d come prepared, but you would die before killing him. End of the day, he was Dean—somewhere inside him was the man you loved.

Part of you hoped Sammy would get there first—that he’d be the one to find Dean. Then he’d be faced with the decision of what to do next, sparing you the pain. You knew that wasn’t fair, but if you were being honest, you didn’t trust yourself to do this alone. One single look at his face could very well be your undoing.

You sighed quietly and glanced at your GPS. Only a couple hours to go before you would find out for yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, Sam had managed to get himself kidnapped when his car broke down on the way to the Black Spur, which meant he most definitely would not be beating you there. Unfortunately for you, that meant confronting Dean would be entirely on your shoulders--a weight you certainly didn't wish to carry.

**********

A few hours later, you arrived at the Black Spur, unsurprised and maybe a bit relieved to see that Dean was no longer there. You talked to the bouncer Dean had beat the shit out of the night before, so you knew you weren't very far behind him.

What you didn't know was Crowley and Dean had a rather intense falling out due to Dean's ever-growing aggressive behavior and complete and utter lack of respect for Crowley.

After leaving the Black Spur, you decided to stop at a motel, get some sleep, and wait for Sam. You'd tried calling him to no avail and you were starting to worry, but you knew Sam could take care of himself.

You'd just managed to fall asleep when your phone rang. It was Sam.

"Everything alright?" you asked.

"Got kidnapped by some guy named Cole."

"Sorry, what?"

"Apparently Dean killed his dad when he was a teenager and now he wants revenge. He kidnapped me hoping I would tell him where Dean was. He admitted he was trying to get us both, but he hadn't expected us to split up."

"Great. Just what we need. Some random human hunting the best hunter-turned-demon in history."

Sam sighed his agreement. "Cole called Dean...and he actually answered."

"What?!"

"Told him he'd kill me if Dean didn't give himself up."

You paused for a moment, breath caught in your chest. "And?"

"He refused. Told Cole he'd given me explicit instructions to let him go--and it was my fault for not listening to him," Sam said with a huff. "Then he told Cole if he killed me, he'd hunt him down and kill him."

You chuckled dryly. "That actually sounds like Dean."

Sam chuckled softly with you. "Yeah...it does."

You could hear the sorrow in his voice and you knew it matched your own. Seeing even the slightest sliver of your Dean in this demon version was beyond painful.

"I managed to get away while he was distracted. I'm on my way to the Black Spur now," Sam said after a few moments.

"He's not here. I've looked."

You could almost hear Sam's chest deflate as the hope left him. "Any sign of where they might've gone next?"

"No," you answered softly. "And Crowley turned his damn phone off."

Sam sighed heavily. "We'll find him, (Y/N)."

You wanted to believe him--wanted to have that kind of faith, but you'd lost steam. There wasn't a trail to follow, and even if there was, you weren't sure you should follow it. Dean had left Sam to die all because he'd ignored Dean's instructions. What would he do to you if you found him?

You ignored the tightening in your chest, pushing down your emotions as deeply as you could before wrapping up your call. You told Sam what motel you were in and that you'd see him in a couple hours.

You'd just laid back down when there was a knock at your door. You grabbed your gun and slipped an angel blade into the waistband of your pants before moving towards the door. When you looked through the peephole, your eyes nearly popped out of your skull.

You ripped open the door with surprising force, angel blade pointing at the visitor's throat.

"Watch where you're pointing that thing," Crowley grumbled.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now."

"Because I know where your husband is."

Your expression softened slightly, but the blade remained pressed to his neck. "Are you going to tell me or do I need to beat it out of you."

Crowley laughed mirthlessly. "Oh please, (Y/N). We all know you aren't capable of torture."

He was right, of course, but you would never admit it. Instead, you narrowed your eyes and pressed the blade a little more firmly into his skin.

The demon winced and threw up his hands in surrender. "Fine! I'll tell you. Just put that thing down."

You remained still for a moment before stepping back and allowing him entry into your room. You closed the door behind him, keeping the blade securely in your hand. "Talk."

"It's more that I know how to find him and less that I know where he is."

You clenched your jaw, feeling the simmering rage begin to boil. "This entire thing is your fault, Crowley, so if you want to stay alive, I suggest you speak plainly."

"We're not exactly on good terms at the moment."

Your eyes scanned his face and a small smirk appeared on yours. "He get tired of you?"

Crowley's eyes narrowed. "We had a disagreement over how to handle his bloodlust. Plus, he's even more arrogant than he was as a human."

Your heart clenched at the word 'bloodlust'. You'd hoped it had subsided in his death, but that damn Mark wouldn't quit until it took every last vestige of humanity left in Dean.

"Fine, so he left your ass in the dust. How do you plan to find him?"

"I have several demons watching his every move. I can't have him making too much of a mess. His type of chaos is bad for business."

"Then make a call and tell me where he is."

"Happily," Crowley paused. "On one condition."

"There it is," you grumbled.

"It's a simple request, really. All I want in return is the First Blade."

"Why?"

"I have my reasons, and I'm quite certain you don't want it in Dean's hands."

You thought about it for a few moments. "If you screw me over, I will burn your sordid kingdom to the ground around you before killing you in the most painful way possible."

Crowley almost seemed impressed. "I think you've spent a little too much time with Dean."

"Not nearly enough," you mumbled under your breath. "Do we have an understanding?"

"I tell you where to find Dean, you give me the Blade."

"You take me to Dean, I give you the Blade," you countered.

A look of fear flashed across his face. "I'd really rather not."

"I don't give a damn. You made this mess, so you're gonna help us out of it."

Crowley sighed. "Fine."

You grabbed your phone off the nightstand, but Crowley interrupted you before you could dial.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling Sam."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why the hell not?"

"You will have better luck persuading Dean than Sam will. You've never once betrayed Dean--never let him down. Sam cannot say the same. As such, it's likely Dean will be more likely to have a soft spot for you, even now."

You contemplated his words for several moments, before shaking your head. "Sam's his brother. He needs to know."

Crowley snapped his fingers, sending your phone flying across the room and into the wall with shocking speed, shattering it instantly.

"You son of a bitch!"

"You want my help? We go alone. Sam can catch up."

You glared at him in annoyance, before sighing quietly. "Fine. But I'm driving."

**********

"A piano bar?" you asked in surprise as you parked across the street.

"That's what they said."

Your eyes scanned the street before landing on a familiar black Chevy Impala. Your heart skipped a beat, knowing you were about to come face to face with your worst nightmare.

Crowley's gaze followed yours and he hummed quietly. "As I said, he's here."

"Get out," you hissed. "You're coming in too."

"Pardon?"

"Do you want the Blade, Crowley? Then get out of the damn car."

He huffed, but did as you said. You gestured for him to walk ahead of you, effectively blocking you from sight from the inside of the bar.

The moment Crowley entered, Dean felt his presence. "Didn't expect you to come back," he stated as he sipped some whiskey.

Hearing his voice sent a wave of emotion through your body, having not heard it in weeks.

Dean seemed to realize Crowley wasn't alone and you heard him inhale deeply. "I'd know that scent anywhere." He finally turned around to face the two of you. "(Y/N)."

"Hello Dean," you said softly, a slight blush dusting your cheeks. The idea he could smell you from several feet away was both a reminder of who he'd become, and an uncomfortable turn-on.

Dean glared at Crowley, realizing he had given his location up. Before he could say anything to him, you stepped forward, causing Dean's gaze to snap back to you.

"I suggest you run before I rip your heart out and feed it to you," you growled under your breath, not sparing another look in Crowley’s direction.

Crowley immediately stepped back, exiting the bar as quickly as possible.

"I didn't think you'd be foolish enough to work with Crowley," Dean said lowly.

"Means to an end."

"Hmm." He took a long drink of his whiskey before placing the empty glass on the counter. "I'm surprised you're here alone."

"Glad you asked--Sam's fine. No thanks to you."

Dean's eyes narrowed and he stood up, taking a step towards you. "I gave both of you very explicit instructions to let me go. What happens to you when you disobey is not my fault."

You inhaled sharply, body reacting to his words without approval from your brain. You clenched your jaw, trying to appear calmer than you felt.

Dean had always been extremely perceptive, and his demon abilities only heightened it. He took another predatory step towards you. "I can see your turmoil, sweetheart--you want me and you hate yourself for it."

You scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself--you're not Dean."

He laughed and the sound sent chills down your spine. "That's where you're wrong--I'm 100% Dean, just the new and improved version."

You felt a pang in your chest. "I'll have to disagree on the 'improved' part."

Dean started to slowly circle you, like a predator hunting his prey. "Aren't you the least bit curious, (Y/N)?" Each ring brought him closer and closer to you, until you could feel his body heat enveloping you. "Don't you want to know about all the things I can do now? All the ways I can wreck that pretty little body of yours?"

You felt his breath on the back of your neck--and you were embarrassed when your lips parted and your own breathing sped up.

"I can hear your heart racing, sweetheart." The pet name dripped with condescension--his voice low and gruff, barely above a growl. You felt a wave of arousal rush to your core, thighs rubbing together on instinct.

The movement didn't go unnoticed by Dean, who let out a dark chuckle. His lips brushed against your ear as he inhaled deeply. "I can smell how badly you want me, (Y/N)."

His hand gripped your hip tightly, pulling you back so you were flush against his front. You felt his hard length pressing into you through his jeans, a soft needy sound escaping your lips.

Suddenly he pulled away, leaving you feeling vulnerable and embarrassed. He might be wearing your husband's face, but he was a demon for christ's sake! You should be as far from turned on as humanly possible.

He came to a stop in front of you, close enough to touch you, but far enough to allow you some clarity. "I imagine you came here to talk me into coming home?"

You didn't bother to reply, it was obvious he could read you as well as he did as a human.

"If I'd wanted to be human again, I wouldn't have left. I'm as familiar with the cure as you are, sweetheart--and it's not worth it to me. I like who I am--I like being a demon. All that baggage I carried as a human? It's gone--I've never felt more free, (Y/N), and I'm not giving that up."

Much to Dean's surprise, your expression morphed into quiet understanding, eyes softening as you watched him closely. He felt uncomfortable under your gaze, so he flashed his eyes black in an attempt to regain control of the situation.

You winced slightly, hating seeing those demon eyes obscuring the brilliant green you loved so much. Your expression, however, remained soft. "Your life wasn't easy," you murmured gently. "There was a lot of heartbreak, pain, and loss...not to mention the weight of the entire world on your shoulders for most of your adult life. I can understand why you'd prefer this...you no longer have to give a damn."

Dean wanted to be annoyed--he wanted to be angry, his need for control surging inside him. Instead, he found himself stepping closer to you again--drawn to your soft eyes and sweet expression. Somewhere deep inside, emotions began to stir.

What had once been a deep, unending love for you, had turned to a lust so powerful, it threatened to devour you both. His eyes turned back to green, but the irises were barely visible around his widened pupils. His gaze was hungry, the predatory look having returned with a vengeance.

"How 'bout we go back to my room?" he purred lowly.

You knew you should say no--you shouldn't go anywhere alone with him, but you couldn't bring yourself to deny him.

"Are you afraid of me, (Y/N)?"

"You're a knight of hell," you whispered. "I'd have to be a fool not to be."

He smirked coldly. "Do you think I'm going to hurt you, sweetheart?"

Despite the darkness within him--despite what he had become--you believed in your heart he would never hurt you.

"No," you murmured honestly.

His smirk widened, rough fingers reaching out to grip your jaw tightly. "Oh I will hurt you, baby--but only in the ways you like."

You inhaled sharply, a wave of arousal dampening your panties even further. Your lips parted slightly, eyes never leaving his.

"You're coming with me," he growled possessively, hand gripping your wrist tightly as he dragged you to the door.

He pulled you roughly out onto the sidewalk and practically dragged you to the Impala, pulling the door open and shoving you into the passenger seat.

His aggression was a turn-on, none of his actions thus far having hurt you. You were certain you'd have bruising on your wrist from where he grabbed you, but you were completely fine with it.

He drove in silence at a speed that sent little waves of terror through you. The hotel he was staying at wasn't far, but he still made it there in record time. It was a much nicer place than the ones you usually stayed in, but you weren't surprised that Dean's tastes had become a little more bougie.

He dragged you into the elevator, pulling your back flush against his chest, hands gripping your upper arms like iron vices. You squirmed slightly and he let out a low growl, grip tightening.

"You move like that again and I'm gonna fuck you in this damn elevator," he hissed.

Part of you was into it, but you also didn't want to get caught fucking your demon husband in a public elevator. So you remained as still as possible until the doors opened on his floor and he pulled you down the hall to his room.

Once inside, Dean slammed the door with force, pinning you up against it so your cheek was pressed into it. His body was molded up against yours and his hot breath fanned across your neck. You felt his teeth scrape your pulse point, earning a low moan from you.

"You have one chance to get out of this," he growled. "One chance to say no and walk away before I fucking devour you."

If you'd had any sense, you would have ran away and never looked back, but you were already too far gone. He might not be the Dean you married, but he was still Dean--just the much darker, much wilder version.

"Fuck me, Dean," you begged softly.

He groaned lowly. "Oh I'm gonna do so much more than that sweetheart."

He ground his bulge into your back and bit into the soft flesh in the crook of your neck, causing you to whimper slightly.

"Wanna know the best part about being a demon?" he purred in your ear as he tugged your head back by your hair so he could see your eyes.

You nodded your head as best you could and waited for him to continue.

"I can have multiple orgasms and I've got the stamina of a god," he murmured. "I can fuck you all night long if I want to--and damnit I want to."

He spun you around quickly, slamming you against the wall beside the door. His lips were on yours immediately, tongue invading your mouth before you could even process what was happening.

You whimpered softly as his lips left yours and he began to kiss and nip his way across your jaw, down your throat, and to your collarbone. He wasn't being gentle, but you still found yourself wanting more--needing more.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, unused to the longer locks. It gave you more to grab, giving you a firmer grip on his head--and you loved it. If the groan that left Dean's mouth was any indication, he loved it too.

You felt his hands grasping at the front of your shirt before ripping it right in half. You yelped in surprise, but he ignored you, instead grabbing the edges of your bra and tugging them down to reveal your breasts.

"Oh, I missed these," Dean murmured before leaning back down to pull your nipple into his mouth. He used both hands to massage your breasts harshly, fingertips pinching at your exposed nipple while he nipped and sucked on the other.

You were panting heavily--almost to an embarrassing degree given how little this man had actually done to you. You found yourself falling into a familiar role with him, though he was much rougher than you were accustomed to.

When he switched to suck on your other breast, he slipped one hand down your stomach to the top of your jeans. He unfastened them easily before sliding his hand into them to cup your very wet pussy.

You felt Dean's smirk against your breast a moment before he lifted his head to look at your face. "Your panties are soaked," he groaned. "How long have you been thinking about me fucking you senseless?"

Your eyes weren't entirely focused on him and you didn't respond right away, so he grabbed your chin tightly, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You respond when I ask you a question."

You gasped softly before whimpering out an answer, "Since I saw you in the bar."

He gave you a look clearly indicating his disbelief. "Really?" His fingers pressed more firmly against your pussy, brushing against your clit purposefully. He ignored your soft moan, but you saw the smirk in his eyes. "You didn't imagine me fucking you while you played with your pretty pussy? Don't lie to me, sweetheart, I know you can't go almost 2 months without an orgasm."

You shook your head, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your honest response.

His eyes flashed black and your heart leapt into your throat, a surge of fear sweeping through you. "Don't be a brat, (Y/N)," he growled. "You know what will happen."

Under normal circumstances, you'd play into the bratty role--it always got Dean riled up. But this wasn't a normal situation and he wasn't the normal Dean. Dean had always been a very loving and affectionate dom, but you knew demon Dean was about as far from loving and affectionate as one could be. You didn't want to see exactly how far he'd go if you pushed his buttons.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"Answer my question."

"I did imagine you," you said so softly he almost didn't hear you.

He pretended to have missed your words and he leaned in closer. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."

"I imagined you," you said again, slightly louder.

"I know." He simultaneously bit into your neck and rubbed his fingers against your clothed clit, eliciting a wanton moan from your lips.

"There are lots of women in this world that'll fall right into my bed with a single look from me, but not a single one has a pussy like yours. Been dreamin' of it for weeks."

His words hurt you, but you pushed those feelings aside and tried to focus on the positive of the backhanded compliment he'd just given you.

He suddenly stepped back, leaving you completely untethered and weaker than you'd expected. Had the wall not been right behind you, you'd be on the floor right now.

His eyes roamed your disheveled body hungrily, possessively. He backed up towards the bed, taking off his shirt as he went. He sat down on the edge, eyes still glued to your body. "Come here."

You did as he asked, too afraid to disobey him.

"Strip."

You started to remove your clothes quickly, but his gravelly voice stopped you. "Slower."

You very slowly removed each article of clothing until you were completely bare. While you'd been naked hundreds of times in front of Dean, this time was different. You felt self-conscious under his hard gaze, afraid he wouldn't like what he saw.

He seemed to sense your discomfort, and to your surprise he assuaged it instantly. "Becoming a demon didn't make me stop loving that body of yours, sweetheart. It's still my favorite thing in the world."

You relaxed instantly, feeling pleased that he liked your body so much. A soft voice in the back of your mind pointed out he'd said your body was his favorite, not you--but you pushed that thought aside for the sake of your heart.

He spread his legs wide and leaned back on his hands, appreciative gaze roaming your exposed flesh. "Now, show me how you like your pretty pussy to be touched."

You bit your lip, keeping your eyes locked on his face as you slid one hand to your breasts and the other to your aching pussy. Dean's eyes watched as you slipped your fingers between your folds, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

You toyed with your clit gently, little moans and whimpers filling the room. You watched as Dean removed his belt and stood up to take off his jeans and underwear. When you finally got a good view of his cock you moaned a little louder, and his eyes flicked up to your face. He smirked when he realized what had caused that noise to come out of your mouth.

He stepped towards you, gripping his large cock firmly in his dominant hand, stroking it slowly. Your own hand had slowed nearly to a stop, but Dean wouldn't have any of that. "Did I say you could stop?"

You quickly sped back up, wanting to please him with an unhealthy level of desperation.

"You're such a good girl for me. My little slut," he said lowly. "Saw the way you looked at my cock, baby--bet you want it in your mouth."

You nodded rapidly.

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against yours. "On your knees."

You dropped to your knees instantly, ready and willing to give him want he asked for.

"Open your mouth. Now."

Your mouth opened obediently, waiting for his next move.

"You gonna let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours?"

You nodded eagerly.

"So fucking sexy like this," he murmured. "Gonna make you choke on my cock."

He gave no further warning before grabbing the back of your head and tugging you down onto his cock. You gagged as his large member slammed into the back of your throat, a burning sensation accompanying it.

His hips moved rapidly as he fucked your face harshly--it was as if you were an inanimate object, only there to give him pleasure.

This level of roughness was new for you, and you were surprised to find how much you were enjoying it. Your eyes watered, spit dribbled down your jaw, and your pussy dripped.

The ache was almost unbearable, so you slipped a hand between your legs to provide yourself some relief.

Dean's observant gaze saw the action and he grinned. "Such a dirty little slut aren't you? Getting off on sucking my cock."

You moaned around him, pulling a surprised groan from deep in his throat. He gripped your head tighter, thrusts speeding up. "Fuck--love this mouth," he ground out.

The force of his thrusts made you pause your own ministrations, attention focused solely on the intensity of his motions. You gripped his strong thighs tightly, nails digging into the soft flesh.

"Oh fuck yes--gonna cum in this sweet little mouth, baby."

You moaned in response.

"Yeah? You want that? Want me to cum down your throat?"

You moaned again and tried to nod.

"How could I deny my little slut?" His grip tightened even further on your head, pulling your hair painfully. With one final thrust, he spilled his load into your mouth, hot ropes of cum filling your throat.

You swallowed every drop he gave you, knowing he'd certainly punish you if even a single drop left your mouth.

Even Dean had to admit, he hadn't had an orgasm that good since he'd become a demon--and watching you swallow all of his cum like that had him wanting more. "Greedy, are we?"

You licked your lips as you looked up at him. "I can't help it. You just taste so good."

He was taken aback by your statement, cock twitching in response. Perks of being a demon, he thought to himself. Already ready for round two. "On the bed, feet off the end."

You got up and laid down on the bed, face up. You weren't moving quickly enough for Dean, so he grabbed your ankles and roughly pulled you towards him. Your ass was now hanging off the bed slightly and your pussy was at the perfect height for him to enjoy from his knees.

There was something incredibly thrilling about seeing Dean on his knees for you. While it wasn't the first time, you doubted demon Dean was the kind of man who'd get on his knees for anyone.

"Now I'm gonna eat this pretty pussy of yours until I get my fill, understand? If you try to stop me, you will be punished."

"Yes, Dean."

"Good girl," he mumbled. He spread your legs as wide as they would go and breathed deeply. He licked his lips subconsciously before diving into you.

As always, Dean knew exactly what to do to drive you wild--he'd learned how to read your body years ago. His tongue felt incredible, large and flat, licking from the bottom of your pussy to the top, giving your clit a gentle flick, then repeating.

You shifted your hips, trying to get him to speed up, which he ignored. Instead, he laid his arm across your lower belly, holding you in place so he could continue his work.

After several more moments of this agonizing pace, he finally relented, lips wrapping around your clit to suck it into his mouth. You cried out in pleasure, legs already beginning to shake.

His motions were rhythmic, sucking your clit and licking it intermittently, as if he couldn't decide which one he preferred. As your moans grew in intensity, he knew you were getting closer. He had plans for you this evening--and your first orgasm of the night was going to be from his mouth and nothing else.

Your fingers had tangled in his hair and you were desperately trying to grind yourself against his face, but his arm prevented you from moving. He switched to focus all of his attention on your clit, sucking it into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue at an insane rate of speed.

You cried out as you came, the orgasm breathtaking in its intensity and pleasure. Dean worked you through the high, but didn't make any signs of stopping.

You remembered his words from earlier, so you kept your mouth shut even though the sensitivity was overwhelming.

When he felt your body begin to relax and the soft moans began to leave your lips again, he slowed his pace way down. He wanted to take his time now, enjoying your taste and the sweet sounds you made for him.

He slid two of his fingers into you, pressing gently against your g-spot before sliding them back out. His tongue laved at your clit, moans of his own giving it the slightest vibrations.

When your pussy started clenching tightly around his fingers and your breathing had become more labored, he sped up. He sucked and licked at your clit, nipping ever so gently at the hood, causing you to yelp softly.

Your fingers had once again found their way to his hair and you were holding on for dear life. You felt your orgasm building--it was so close. You voiced as much to Dean, even though he was already very aware.

You were just about to reach your peak when Dean suddenly slowed down--to an agonizingly slow pace.

"No, no, no--please!" you begged.

Dean ignored your pleas, opting to focus on his activities instead. He sped up just a tiny bit, building your orgasm back up.

The louder your moans became, the faster Dean went. Your orgasm was approaching once again and you begged Dean not to stop.

You were a second away from your orgasm when Dean once again slowed his motions. You cried out in anguish as the blissful feeling faded away.

"Please, Dean," you whimpered.

He lifted his head slightly, fingers still moving very slowly against your g-spot. "I'm not done with this pussy yet. Tastes too good for me to stop."

"But I need to cum," you cried.

"You'll cum when I let you cum," he said harshly.

His mouth dropped back to your pussy, focus once again on enjoying his feast.

Dean did this two more times--denying you an orgasm mere seconds before one was to occur. By this point, you were crying and begging him to just let you cum--you couldn't stand the ache any longer.

Dean decided he had listened to your babbling pleas for long enough. He pulled away from you, leaving you whimpering shamefully.

Dean laid down on the bed beside you. "Get up here. I'm not finished yet."

You were confused, so you didn't move fast enough for him. He smacked your breast harshly and you yelped in pain.

"I said, get up here. Now."

"I don't understand," you whimpered.

Dean sighed in exasperation. "Sit on my face so I can eat you properly."

It's not like you hadn't done this with him before. It was something you'd always known Dean enjoyed, but your brain was so fuzzy with need, it hadn't even crossed your mind.

You pulled yourself up and straddled his head. He didn't wait for you to sit down, he simply grabbed your hips and tugged you down to his waiting mouth.

You moaned in pleasure instantly, the sound spurring him on. He knew you were in for an incredibly intense orgasm and he was dying to taste it--to feel you coat his mouth and face with your sweet juices.

He had you on the brink in an embarrassingly short amount of time, but you couldn't be bothered to feel any shame. You were grinding down on his face, using him for your own pleasure.

You prayed he wouldn't stop this time--the need to cum so overwhelming it was painful. You were gripping onto the headboard for support as you rode his face, moans slowly rising in pitch as you neared climax.

Dean's fingers dug into your upper thighs and hips so tightly there were sure to be bruises. He could tell you were close, so he sped up his motions, desperate for you to cum.

"Dean--I-I'm gonna--"

You finally came with a scream of his name--the sound so loud it likely woke the entire hotel. Your legs shook violently, the pleasure so blinding you nearly blacked out.

It wasn't until you felt someone lifting you and laying you on your back that you started to become aware of your surroundings again.

Dean watched you, a satisfied smirk on his handsome face. He reached out and brushed your hair from your face where it had stuck to your sweaty skin. It was an oddly affectionate gesture for a demon.

He waited patiently for you to re-acclimate to your surroundings--come back down to earth, as it were. When your pretty (y/e/c) eyes met his, you smiled, forgetting for a moment that he was anything but the man you loved.

"That was...in-incredible," you mumbled breathlessly.

He grinned. "Happy to be of service."

You smiled in return, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

Dean crawled on top of you, arms on either side of your body, ensuring you couldn't get away. "I'm no where near done with you yet."

"You give me another orgasm like that and you just might kill me."

He grinned wolfishly, eyes darkening with lust. "Oh sweetheart...you have no idea what I could do to you."

You weren't sure if it was a threat or a promise, but you were incredibly turned-on by it. Dean could see the rapid rise and fall of your chest beneath him...and he knew his words had the desired effect.

He grabbed his cock and rubbed it very gently between your folds. You inhaled sharply at the sensation.

"Do you want my cock?"

You nodded rapidly.

"Come on baby, I wanna hear you say it."

"I want your cock."

"Good girl," he murmured, repeating his earlier motion. "Now beg for it."

Your eyes widened and he gave you a warning look. You knew you had to beg or else. "I want your cock so badly."

"Mhmm."

"I need it."

"Keep going."

"I...I wanna feel you inside me."

"Come on, sweetheart," he chided. "I know you can do better than that."

"I want you to fuck me, Dean. Please--I need you."

He slipped the tip of his cock into you and you whimpered softly. "Give me a little more, baby."

"I want you to fuck me so hard I forget my own name," you begged. "I'll be so good for you--I promise."

He plunged into you without warning, sheathing himself deep in your warm, wet heat. "That's my good girl," he moaned.

He started to move slowly, in and out, each direction painfully slow. "My god have I missed this pussy," he said as if to himself.

You whined beneath him, hoping he'd get the hint and pick up the pace.

He looked down at your needy expression and smirked. "Patience, baby. I'll make those knees weak--don't you worry."

He leaned down to kiss you roughly, one hand tangling in your hair, pulling your head back slightly as he deepened the kiss. His thrusts started to speed up, matching the pace he'd set with his tongue in your mouth.

After several moments, he pulled himself up, grabbing your legs and putting one on each side of his head. The new position allowed him to hit that spot so deep inside you, you'd thought it was a myth until you met him.

He began to piston in and out of you, each thrust hard and fast. Each time he'd pull almost all the way out slowly before slamming back into you with force--cock brushing up against your cervix with each thrust.

It didn't take long before you were a whimpering, moaning mess beneath him. He loved seeing how fucked out you were--knowing that it was all because of him.

"Whose pussy is this?"

Your eyes shot open. "Yours!" you gasped.

"That's right, baby. Mine," he growled. "No one gets to touch you like this but me."

"No one," you confirmed breathlessly.

His eyes flashed black. "I'll kill anyone who even looks at you like he wants to fuck you."

You inhaled sharply. Dean had always been a very protective man--possessive even--but this was a whole new level. You had no doubt in your mind that he was completely serious. He would most certainly murder a man for daring to have so much as an unclean thought about you.

It probably shouldn't have turned you on, but it did--his possessive nature infinitely more intense now that he was a demon. Your pussy clenched down tightly around him, signaling how much you liked his words.

"That turns you on, huh? You like the thought of me owning you? Owning this pussy?"

"Yes!" you cried out as he continued to pound into you.

"Lucky for you, I'm never letting you go again," he growled. His thrusts were fast and hard, his focus on feeling you cum around his cock.

His words had an immediate effect on you, his possessiveness almost affectionate in that moment. It was exactly what you needed to fall over the edge with a low moan of his name.

"Fuck!" he groaned as he tried to maintain his speed. Your pussy was squeezing him so tightly he could barely move. "Jesus, baby--gotta stop squeezing me like that."

"Sorry," you whimpered, trying to relax your body.

Dean's hips began to move again and he leaned forward to kiss your jawline. "Don't apologize--not your fault this pussy feels so fuckin' good--made for me."

You gasped softly, skin flushing at his praise.

He pulled out of you without warning and roughly flipped you onto your stomach. His palm landed on your ass with a firm smack, causing you to jump slightly.

"Lift your hips," he ordered.

You did as he asked and he slid into you, immediately setting a brutal pace. He alternated between smacking your ass, pulling your hair, and gripping your hips so you couldn't move.

Your pussy pulsed and fluttered around his cock, the pleasure becoming unbearable. "Dean--s-so close," you moaned.

"I know--you're squeezing me so tight," he replied through gritted teeth. "But don't you dare cum until I give you permission."

"But, I--"

He grabbed you by the hair, tugging you up so your back was pressed against his chest. He nipped at your ear and pressed his hand firmly against your neck--not enough to hurt you, but enough for you to know he could.

His voice was low and demanding when he spoke again, "Be a good girl for me, (Y/N), and I won't have to hurt you. But if you disobey me, I will take everything I want and give you nothing, do you understand?"

"Yes," you whispered breathily.

"Good." He released you suddenly, letting your body fall back onto the bed as he renewed his painful thrusts.

You used all of your concentration to focus on not cumming until he allowed you to, but the more time passed, the more painful it was not to orgasm.

"Dean, please--I-I can't t-take it," you cried.

"Yes you can, baby. You're already taking my cock so well."

"Ne-need to cum," you begged.

Dean thought about it for a moment and made a decision. His hips slowed and he leaned forward to speak close to your ear. "You can cum after I do."

You whimpered, head nodding your agreement.

Dean's hands gripped onto your hips, holding them in place as he pistoned in and out of you, chasing his own high. He heard your desperate whimpers and felt your pussy spasming around him, but all he cared about was his release.

His hips began to falter as pleasure licked up his spine moments before he came with a guttural groan, spilling his seed deep inside you.

The moment you felt his cum begin to fill you up, your own orgasm crashed into you, making you cry out in pleasure.

Dean worked you through your high before pulling out of you and letting you collapse on the bed. His large body hovered over yours as he pressed kisses into your heated skin.

His cock was still throbbing with need, despite having just had an incredible orgasm. He knew you were exhausted, but he hadn't had his fill of you yet.

He rolled you back over and slid inside of you, slowly bottoming out with a breathless moan. You whimpered at the sensation, pussy too sensitive and overstimulated for another round.

"No--no more, Dean, please."

"I warned you, sweetheart...told you I wanted to fuck you all night."

"It--it's too much."

He slowly slid out of you and slowly slid back in. "I know you can take it."

You shook your head. "I can't--"

Dean grabbed your wrists and pulled them over your head, holding them tightly in place with one hand. The motion forced him lower, making his body weight press firmly against you.

His lips brushed against yours and his voice was almost pained when he whispered, "I'll be gentle."

You saw the need in his mossy green eyes and your resolve crumbled. You supposed you could allow him at least one more orgasm. "Alright," you murmured.

He smiled at you before kissing you deeply, thoroughly enjoying the taste and feel of you. His thrusts were slow and measured, much more gentle than they'd been before.

To your surprise, the friction wasn't as painful as you'd expected. In fact, you found yourself enjoying the slow feeling of his cock dragging against your walls, the thick vein on the underside throbbing inside you.

He let go of your wrists to hold himself up a little, allowing him more room to move. His eyes traced your face as he fucked you, the action incredibly intimate despite the situation.

After several minutes of gentle thrusts, Dean pulled himself up into a sitting position and pulled you along with him. You weren't strong enough to hold yourself up properly, but he was more than capable of keeping your body where he wanted it.

He leaned back, lying flat against the bed, with you now straddling him. You put your hands on his chest for leverage as you began to ride him.

Dean let out a soft moan, which you echoed when he pulled your hips down flush against his so you couldn't move. He pressed his hand firmly against your lower belly and you gasped in pleasure.

"You feel that, baby? Feel my cock so deep inside you? Feels so fuckin' good."

You nodded rapidly, not trusting your voice to actually speak.

Dean released your hips so you could move again, but his eyes didn't leave your body. "You look so fuckin' sexy riding me. Could stare at ya all night."

You blushed deeply, gaze pulling away from his bashfully.

He reached up and touched your cheek, pulling your face back towards him. "I like looking at you."

You bit your lip, but didn't turn away. Having demon Dean compliment you felt so incredibly different than what you were used to. It almost felt wrong to appreciate his words and his gaze--as if you were cheating on your husband. You knew you weren't really, but it still felt wrong.

After several more moments, Dean tired of the slowness of the pace. He grabbed you and pulled you down to him, wrapping his arms around you to hold you tightly. He planted his feet and began to piston up into you, sending shock waves of pain and pleasure through your body.

He loved the wrecked sounds coming from your mouth as he fucked up into you. He knew his current angle would hit your sweet spot with each thrust--and he knew you wouldn't be able to avoid another orgasm.

He'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't want to feel you cum all over his cock again--the sensation was almost as incredible as his own orgasm. He found himself craving it with a desperation he didn't want to dive too deeply into.

"I know you're close, sweetheart," he murmured. "I can feel it--know you wanna cum around my cock."

Your moans and whimpers were all the confirmation he needed.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?"

"Please," was all you could manage to say.

"Cum for me."

His command sent you over the edge with shocking ease. You weren't certain you even had it in you to cum again, and the intensity of the orgasm surprised you.

Dean held on tightly as your body shook, your pussy clenching and unclenching around him as you squirted all over his lower body.

"Holy fuck, you're sexy," he groaned, an intense feeling of pride surging through his veins. He'd made you squirt before, but every single time felt like a gold fucking medal to him.

His thrusts became more sloppy as his own orgasm neared. He was so close he could practically taste it, but it was your aftershocks that finally had him exploding inside of you. He stopped moving, holding you tight to him as he emptied deep in your pussy.

He carefully rolled you over onto your back before sliding out of you. You whimpered at the feeling of emptiness, which made his chest swell with pride.

"Spread those pretty legs for me, baby--spread 'em nice and wide," he murmured, large hand gently rubbing your thighs. "Spread yourself open--wanna watch my cum leaking out of you."

You did as he asked, surprised to find yourself so turned-on by his request. You watched him stare at the apex of your thighs, your mixed spends dripping from your abused hole.

He licked his lips, gaze flickering back up to yours. "You're the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen."

You inhaled sharply, pleased by his praise. "Come here," you whispered, reaching for him.

You were surprised when he actually complied, crawling up your body and placing a soft kiss on to your lips, allowing you to run your hands through his hair affectionately.

After a few moments, Dean pulled away. "Why don't you get a little rest? You'll need your strength."

You looked at him in shock. "Strength for what?"

"You didn't think we were done, did you?"

"Dean, you can't possibly be serious!"

His eyes flashed black, reminding you exactly who and what you were dealing with. "I'm deadly serious."

You exhaled shakily as it finally dawned on you that you had no control over your current situation. Dean could do anything he wanted to you and there wouldn't be a damn thing you could do about it.

But that wasn't the concerning part. The concerning part was how little fear you felt. The idea of him being completely in control felt like a good thing...and that was what really scared you.

**********

You awoke several hours later to the feeling of Dean's rough hands on your soft skin. You were lying on your side, with him directly behind you. It had been a comfortable position to fall asleep in, but it seemed Dean now had a different idea.

You felt his cock tease your pussy and you whimpered softly.

"Need you just one more time," Dean murmured in your ear as he slid into you. He held you tightly against him, still spooning you as he began his gentle thrusts.

"Focus on how my cock feels in that tight little pussy of yours," he instructed. "I know you're sore, baby, but I'm gonna make you feel so good."

You'd lost count of the number of orgasms you'd had somewhere after the 7th one. You hadn't even known it was possible for the human body to have that many. Dean was right--you were sore, too sore to move, in fact.

"I've got you," he murmured, pressing his lips into your shoulder.

The intimacy of the moment surprised you and you weren't sure why Dean was being so soft. You leaned back into him, feeling the taunt muscles of his abdomen flex against you.

He took the movement as permission to continue what he was doing. He slid his hand farther down your body, slipping it between your legs to rub light circles on your swollen clit.

You gasped softly, nails digging into the flesh of his arm.

Dean shushed you gently. "Let me make you feel good--just relax."

You tried to do as he said, willing your overstimulated body to stop tensing.

As Dean continued his gentle thrusts and soft touches, you began to feel the familiar tightening deep in your abdomen. You focused on the feeling, on the need for a release as it rose within you.

"You're doing so good for me," Dean praised. "So sexy--with this fucking perfect pussy. Could stay here forever."

His murmured words of praise went straight to your core, causing it to tighten around him. He moaned softly, continuing his movements.

"Dean," you whispered. "I'm close."

He pressed his lips into your shoulder. "Let go for me, baby. I've got you."

For a moment--just a moment--you felt like you were making love to your Dean. The feeling was fleeting, but it gave you hope, even as it ripped your heart to pieces.

He knew exactly what to do to send your body into overdrive--he'd always known. He had you falling apart in minutes, soft cries of pleasure slipping past your tired lips.

"That's it, baby," Dean groaned. "Gonna fill you up."

Dean came for a final time, deep inside you. You'd lost track of his orgasms long before you'd lost track of your own.

He whispered your name softly, lips brushing against your skin sweetly.

He didn't pull out, but his cock finally began to soften--having reached the limit even for a demon.

After several minutes, he allowed you to pull away from him. You rolled over and quickly fell asleep, too exhausted to even exist for a moment longer.

**********

When you finally woke up, you weren't sure how much time had passed. Your entire body was sore, a dull ache from your head to your toes.

You pulled yourself up into a sitting position, glancing beside you to the empty bed. Your eyes flitted around the room, seeking any sign of Dean. His clothes were still strewn all over the floor, along with yours, but he could very well have put on fresh clothes.

You weakly pulled yourself out of the bed and slowly made your way to the bathroom, bladder pulsating painfully. After using the bathroom, you splashed cold water on your face, trying to revive yourself even a little.

You gazed at yourself in the mirror, taking in the various marks and bruises littering your skin. You would typically wear such marks like a badge of honor, but in this moment, you only felt shame.

You'd had explosive sex with a demon--not just any demon, a demon that used to be your husband. Your heart clenched as images flashing through your mind. You'd loved it in the moment, but now you felt incredibly guilty.

You couldn't help but wonder what Dean would think of you if you were able to make him human again. You were scared he'd be upset with you--ashamed even.

The sound of the hotel room door opening shook you from your thoughts. You grabbed the robe hanging on a hook in the bathroom and threw it on quickly, barely covering yourself before Dean came into view.

"Hey sweetheart," he said with a smile. "I brought food."

Surprise lit up your face as you stared at him. You hadn't been certain he'd come back, let alone bring you food. "Oh, umm...thank you."

He nodded and placed the bags on the small table. "You wanna take a shower first or eat first?"

You were still in shock from his behavior, but you managed to mumble, "Shower." You closed the door slowly and started the shower, but you didn't get in.

You took a moment to try and collect yourself, but you found it nearly impossible to relax. You sighed and dropped the robe from your body before stepping under the hot spray.

The calming feeling of the water washing over you brought you some relief--as if it was washing away your sins. It also gave you some clarity.

At the end of the day, he was still Dean--and you desperately wanted him back. If this was the only way to do it, then you just had to suck it up and do what needed to be done. If necessary, you'd beg for forgiveness later.

When you got out of the shower Dean was waiting for you at the table. You'd thrown the robe back on, having no other clothes with you.

You offered him a smile before going towards where your undergarments lay near the bed. You also picked up your jeans, but your shirt was completely ruined.

Dean's keen eyes followed you around the room, watching in silence. When you made it to the door where the remnants of your shirt lay, Dean chuckled lightly. "Why don't you wear one of mine, sweetheart?"

You held up the ripped fabric. "I don't think I have much of a choice."

He smiled and stood up, grabbing a clean flannel out of the duffle on the floor. He handed it to you and waited--as if he expected you to say something.

You looked down at the flannel in your hand and inhaled sharply. It was your favorite flannel of his--green and black in color, and incredibly soft from all the washes it had endured.

He saw the moment you recognized the shirt and he suddenly felt oddly nervous--he wanted you to be happy, as silly as that might be for a demon.

"I'll just go throw these on," you whispered.

Dean just nodded as you walked past him to the bathroom. You came out a few minutes later, fully clothed.

He let out a soft sound you could only describe as a low growl. "I love it when you wear my clothes."

You blushed. "You always did find it sexy."

He grinned darkly and took a step towards you, but you shook your head gently.

"My entire body is sore, Dean."

He pouted. "A kiss at least?"

You sighed. "Fine."

He leaned down to kiss you with shocking gentleness. It warmed you from the inside out.

"See? I can be gentle," Dean said with a smirk.

"Interesting for a demon," you mumbled, sitting down at the table.

You missed the look of hurt that crossed Dean's face at your words. He sat at the table across from you, expression impassive.

You started to eat, quickly discovering how hungry you really were. Dean watched you quietly, not particularly hungry himself. He noticed some marks on your exposed collarbone and throat and he felt an odd feeling in his chest. It made him extremely uncomfortable, but he couldn't quite place the feeling.

"Dean?" you asked softly.

His eyes refocused on your face. "Hmm?"

"I know what you're going to say, but will you please come back with me? Just--Just come home, Dean--please." You were more than ready to beg, but you found you didn't need to.

"Alright."

You'd opened your mouth for a rebuttal, but his voice stopped you--"What?"

"I'll come back with you."

Your face was a mixture of surprise and confusion. "I, uhh--I was expecting to have to beg you."

"No need," he commented. "After last night, I have no desire to be anywhere else."

"Anywhere else?"

"Perhaps I should have said with anyone else."

"Ahh. I see." Your heart fluttered slightly, even though the words came from a demon.

"So yes, I'll go back home with you...on one condition."

Your heart began to beat faster as you waited for him to continue.

"Under no circumstances will you ever force me to become human."

Your chest ached at his words, your eyes fluttered closed, and your breath exhaled slowly. Dean knew what he was asking of you--knew it was a lot deeper than a simple promise. "Don't make me promise that," you whispered.

Dean's eyes flicked to black and his expression hardened. "Promise me or leave. The choice is yours."

It felt as though time slowed around you. You had never once broken a promise to Dean--never. He knew you prided yourself on that--he knew you would never break one. You couldn't find it in yourself to betray him, even now.

"I have one condition of my own."

Dean raised a single eyebrow.

"I will make you that promise, if you give me the First Blade."

It was Dean's turn to be surprised. "Why?"

"You know why."

His eyes flicked back to green, but he looked annoyed. "And if I don't give it up?"

"Then I leave."

Dean weighed his options in silence. After a few moments, he got up and crossed the room towards the door where his jacket hung. He reached into the inside pocket and pulled out the First Blade.

You inhaled sharply, a ripple of fear surging through you.

He crossed the short distance back to you, placing the Blade on the table in front of you. You reached out for it, but his hand snapped forward and grabbed your arm.

"Do we have a deal?"

You exhaled heavily. "We have a deal."

"Say it."

"I promise I will never force you to become human again," you whispered.

He released your arm and smirked. He was obviously pleased with himself, even as you quite clearly ached from making such a promise.

You pulled the Blade towards you, keeping it as close to you as you could. You needed to call Crowley to come get the damn thing as soon as possible--you wanted it as far away from Dean as possible.

“Maybe we can leave when I’m done eating?”

Dean just nodded. “Better not tell Sam until we get there.”

You couldn't have told him even if you'd wanted to, given that Crowley had broken your phone, so you simply nodded your agreement.

Dean watched you in silence while you finished eating, his face completely unreadable. You were worried about what Dean was planning, but you were more worried about Sam's reaction to all of this.

**********

The drive back to the bunker was uneventful. Dean drove straight through the night, no need for sleep. You were still tired from your antics the day before, so you slept for a large portion of the drive.

Dean woke you 10 minutes before arrival. "How pissed you think Sammy's gonna be?" he asked.

"You left him to die, Dean--he's probably not gonna be excited to see you."

Dean shrugged. "I mean, he didn't die though."

You shot him a glare and he laughed. "It's not funny, Winchester."

"It's not, not funny."

You sighed. "Just let me do the talking, okay? He's not pissed at me."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "He's gonna be."

"Either way," you mumbled. "Just let me handle it."

"Fine."

Dean pulled in to the underground garage and you both got out of the car. You weren't sure if Sam would even be there--you hadn't spoken to him in a couple days. For all you knew, he could have been kidnapped a second time--or maybe he thought you were the one missing.

As you entered into the bunker properly, you found it very quiet and very empty.

"Looks like nobody's home," Dean commented.

"Sam's probably worried about me--god only knows where he is," you muttered. You turned to Dean. "Let me borrow your phone."

He eyed you warily. "What happened to yours?"

"Crowley broke it."

Dean's eyes narrowed, flashing black aggressively. "He what?"

"Easy there killer--he broke my phone, not me."

"I'll kill him."

"Get in line," you mumbled as you stuck out your hand. "Phone, please."

He handed you his phone and you immediately dialed the familiar number. Sam answered on the second ring, hope and surprise in his voice, "Dean?"

"No, it's me."

You heard relief in his voice when he spoke again. "Where the hell are you? Are you okay? I was seriously worried--" he paused, seemingly remembering whose phone you were using. "Are you with Dean?"

Dean leaned in over your shoulder to speak into the phone. "Hiya, Sammy."

You elbowed Dean lightly. "I'm fine, Sam, and yes, I'm with Dean."

"How--?"

"Crowley."

"Why the hell didn't you call me?"

"Also, Crowley. He busted my phone--hence why I'm using Dean's."

"Are you--are you safe?"

You looked over at Dean and sighed. "Yeah, I'm safe."

Sam sighed in relief. "Where are you--I'll come get you."

"We're, uhh--we're actually back home."

"What?"

"We're at the bunker."

"How the hell did you convince him to come back with you?"

"We can talk about that when you get here. Just come home."

"I'm on my way."

You hung up the phone and handed it back to Dean, who gave you a hungry look.

"So...what should we do while we're waiting?"

"I know you're a demon, but I'm not," you said lightly. "I'm still sore."

"Aww c'mon, sweetheart," Dean pouted slightly. "I'll be gentle."

You shook your head with a small smile. "I'm not so sure about that."

"I was gentle yesterday morning, wasn't I?"

"After several orgasms and some very rough sex."

"I thought you enjoyed that," he said lowly, stepping closer to you.

You blushed, taking a step back. "I--I did."

He grinned predatorily. "I can make it very good for you, baby."

You felt a rush of arousal flood your body as he took another step towards you, backing you up against the large table behind you.

He breathed deeply and his eyes flashed black. "I can smell your desire."

You exhaled shakily.

Dean leaned forward, pinning you against the table. He placed one arm on the table and the other very lightly against your throat. "How 'bout I take you right here?"

You weren't opposed to the idea, but you weren't sure exactly how far away Sam was. "What if Sam comes back?"

Dean shrugged. "Then we'll give him a show."

You smacked his chest affectionately. "We will not."

"Then I guess you better hope he doesn't come back while I'm fucking you senseless."

You gasped and Dean leaned down, pressing his lips hungrily against yours. You kissed him back with the same amount of passion, fingers digging into his back to pull him closer to you.

You felt Dean's fingers brush against your chest and you pulled back immediately. "Wait!"

Surprise lit up his face and he released you instantly. "What's wrong?"

"This is my favorite flannel--you are not going to rip it."

Dean laughed heartily. "My apologies, sweetheart. You can take it off yourself then."

You quickly unbuttoned it and slid it off your shoulders, tossing it to the floor nearby. You looked back up at him, a sultry smile on your face. "You may continue."

"Oh, I will." Dean gripped the front of your bra and tore it directly down the center, revealing your heaving breasts to him.

You gasped at the action, but it quickly turned to a moan as his hands began to massage your breasts and pinch your nipples harshly.

Your hips instinctively jutted forward, seeking his body for some relief. Dean immediately noticed, pressing his body firmly against yours, knee sliding between your legs to apply pressure against your core.

You ground yourself down on his knee and groaned softly. You repeated the action, the friction giving you pleasure.

"That's it, pretty girl," Dean growled lowly. "Get yourself off my thigh."

You continued your motions, but it just wasn't enough to get you to your peak. You whimpered softly and Dean chuckled darkly.

"Not enough for you, baby? Need me to help you?"

"Please," you begged.

He made quick work of removing your jeans, but instead of removing your underwear, he simply ripped them right off, practically shredding the lace.

Dean slipped two of his fingers between your legs and plunged them into your core. You gasped and clenched tightly around him.

"Fuck, sweetheart--you're fuckin' soaked," Dean groaned into your neck, fingers thrusting in and out of you hastily. "So damn tight too."

You whined softly as he pulled his fingers out and slipped them into his mouth, sucking them clean. He gripped your hips tightly and lifted you to place you on the table properly.

You wrapped your legs tightly around him and pulled him in closely, desperately wanting to feel him against your skin. You tugged at his shirt, which he quickly removed.

Your fingers grasped at his belt, but he smacked your hand away. He said nothing as he dropped to his knees and tugged your hips forward.

"Spread those legs for me."

You did as he asked, spreading your legs as wide as you could. You waited for him to touch you, but he made no moves to do so. "Dean?" you asked softly, slight desperation in your voice.

His eyes raised up to meet yours, a dark expression on his face. "Touch yourself."

"What?" you asked in quiet confusion.

"You want some relief? Touch yourself."

You supported yourself on one arm while you moved the other between your legs. You were mortified by the wetness dripping down your folds, but you collected some before sliding your fingers between your labia.

Dean watched with dark, hungry eyes as you played with your clit, soft whimpers of enjoyment slipping from your lips.

"Spread yourself open so I can see," he demanded.

You did as he asked, using your other hand to spread yourself, giving him a proper view of your aching pussy.

"Fuck," he muttered beneath his breath. "Keep going."

Your fingers immediately went back to rubbing your clit, desperate to feel that tightening in your core--knowing the pleasure it would bring.

Dean's large hands splayed on your thighs, massaging them gently as he watched, eyes glued to your movements.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he leaned forward and licked into your pussy, making you shiver with anticipation. You moved your hand away and he slapped your pussy harshly, causing you to yelp.

"Did I fucking say you could stop?" he growled, eyes flashing black.

You inhaled sharply and shook your head, fingers immediately returning to your core. You wouldn't admit it to him, but you liked this dark side of him--he would never have let it come out like this if he were human. He was too afraid to hurt you--too protective to even consider it. You hadn't known how much you'd enjoy it until now...and you just had to hope Dean wouldn't notice.

Dean's tongue lapped lazily between your folds as you continued to massage your clit. Every time you felt the pressure begin to build in your gut, your fingers would instinctively speed up. Each time they sped up, Dean would pull your hand away, keeping your orgasm just out of reach.

After several minutes of this, Dean's control had begun to wane. When your fingers sped up, he once again removed your hand, only this time he replaced it with his mouth. You felt his tongue dance across your clit in the most pleasurable way, fingers entwining themselves in his hair.

Your hips bucked up towards his mouth, but he didn't relent. Even as you screamed his name and your juices began to gush, he kept his mouth on you, drinking up everything you gave him. It wasn't until you'd collapsed back onto the table that he finally pulled away and stood back up, licking his lips in satisfaction.

Your breathing was ragged and your vision was slightly blurred as you looked at him, waiting for him to make his next move. He quickly shed his jeans and boxers, tossing them out of the way before taking his cock into his hand.

He watched your chest rise and fall rapidly as he stroked himself, appreciating how fucked out you already looked. "I need you to sit up, sweetheart." His words sounded soft, but his voice was demanding.

You managed to slowly pull yourself into a sitting position, grabbing onto his muscular arms for support. He teased your entrance with his cock and you whimpered softly.

"Lean back on your hands," he murmured lowly.

You did as he asked, the angle allowing him better access to your pussy. He slipped the head of his cock between your folds and slowly began to push forward until he was completely sheathed inside you.

The feeling of fullness had you gasping softly, head tilted back as you tried to catch your breath.

Dean tugged you even closer by your hips so he could get even deeper. You cried out in pain as his first thrust hit your cervix, but Dean didn't seem to notice. His hips snapped forward repeatedly, each thrust threatening to send you flying across the table if not for his death grip on your hips.

The pain soon gave way to pleasure, the room filling with the sounds of your mixed moans, the slapping of skin, and the sounds of your slickness as he fucked you.

He snaked one hand around your back to pull you even closer to him, practically holding you as he kept his pace. Your legs had begun to shake and your arms were weakening--but you knew your orgasm was near.

"Harder," you whimpered, surprising him.

He growled. "You like it when I fuck you like a little slut, don't you?"

"Yes!" you cried out.

His hips moved impossibly faster, the thrusts harder than before.

"Don't stop!" you pleaded.

"I wouldn't dare." He kept the pace as steady as he could, even as he felt his own orgasm rising.

"Please, please, please," you rambled. "S-so close!"

Dean's hand wrapped around your throat, pressing lightly against it. "Cum for me, pretty girl," he growled.

"More!"

He tightened his grip on your throat, but not enough to hurt you. It was all you needed to push you over the edge and into bliss. You cried out as you came, the intensity of your orgasm sparking his own.

He shouted your name in surprise as hot spurts of cum filled you. His thrusts began to slow, but his grip on your body didn't lessen. He held on tightly as you both came down from your highs.

He roughly tugged you forward and off the table. You weren't stable enough to stand, but that didn't matter to him. He spun you around and forced your upper body down onto the table, spreading your legs with one of his.

His cock was already hard again and he plunged into you without warning, earning a cry from your lips.

"Fuck, this pussy is so good for me," he groaned. "I just wanna fuck you until you can't move."

"Dean!" you whimpered, body overly sensitive already.

Once again, his grip on your hips was bruising and his thrusts were almost painful in their depth and intensity. The only thing keeping you upright was the table beneath you, your legs no better than wet noodles.

"You look so fuckin' sexy like this--spread for me, pussy leaking my cum, fuckin' moaning so pretty...fuck." His thrusts sped up, making you cry out.

"Need--shit--need you to cum again, baby."

"I-I c-can't!"

"Yes you can--you've been so good for me. Just give me one more."

Tears welled in your eyes--your body ached horribly, but you wanted to please him so badly. Your hips and thighs hurt from his grip and the force of his thrusts pressing you into the table, but you tried to block all of that from your mind. You focused on the pleasurable feeling of his cock, desperate to give him what he wanted.

"I-I need more," you whimpered.

His hand immediately slipped around to your front and began to rub tight circles to your clit. The sensation nearly pushed you over the edge with how sensitive you were.

"Come on, sweetheart, I can tell you're close."

You moaned in response, focus entirely on reaching your high.

His finger moved faster, the friction sending you into overdrive. You screamed and your nails scratched against the wood as you desperately searched for something to cling to--something to ground you.

"Fuck, yes--that's it. Cum for me, baby."

You screamed again as you came--the pleasure so blinding you passed out for a few moments. When you came to, he was chasing his own high--thrusts becoming more sloppy by the second.

"G-gonna fill you u-up," he ground out, hands tightening on your hips painfully.

Two more thrusts and he was spilling inside of you, hips stuttering as he emptied his seed deep within you. He leaned forward, pressing you even farther into the table, his lips gently caressing your back.

Once he'd regained his breath--and his strength--he pulled out of you and stood up. You nearly slid off the table and onto the floor, but he caught you.

"Woah there--I've got you."

He scooped you up and carried you to the bedroom the two of you shared. He laid you down on the bed with surprising gentleness before climbing onto the bed with you.

"No--no more--please," you begged.

"Easy, sweetheart," he purred softly. "I know you're tired--I just wanna be inside of you."

He laid you on your side and he slid up into you, forcing some of his cum back into your pussy. You whimpered at the feeling of fullness, but even you had to admit you enjoyed the feeling.

He wrapped his arms tightly around you and pulled you close. "Go to sleep, baby. I've got you."

His tone was almost loving--if you didn't know better, you would have thought it was. You were too weak and tired to dwell on it, instead drifting off to sleep with unsurprising ease.

**********

Sam rushed into the bunker like a bat outta hell. He wanted to trust that his brother would never hurt you, but he worried for your safety. Dean was a knight of hell after all.

When he properly entered the war room, he froze. His eyes went to the clothing strewn about the space--a mixture of your's and Dean's. Out of all the things he'd expected, this had not been on the list. He couldn't believe you would be that foolish.

"(Y/N)? Dean?" he called as he walked farther into the bunker.

There was no response, so he made his way to where your bedroom was. The door was shut, so he knocked loudly.

You jolted awake at the loud banging, the movement making Dean moan softly. Somehow he was still hard and buried inside of you--where he'd been for however long you'd been asleep.

"(Y/N)? You in there?" Sam's voice called from the other side of the door.

Dean groaned in annoyance, but you answered anyway. "Yeah--just, uh...give us a minute."

"You coulda told him to go away," Dean mumbled into your shoulder.

"We'd just be delaying the inevitable."

He sighed and slowly removed himself from you, causing a soft whimper to escape your lips. He grinned and leaned down over you, kissing you softly. "Don't worry, we can do it again later."

You kissed him back, before giving him a light push against his chest. "I need clothes."

You dragged yourself out of bed and moved around the room, throwing various items of clothing on to make yourself decent. You wanted a shower, but that would have to wait until after you'd talked to Sam.

Dean watched you from his place in the bed, not making a move to get dressed himself.

"You coming?" you asked.

"I'll give you a head start," he answered. "You can talk to Sam alone."

You nodded. "Alright."

You exited the bedroom, closing the door behind you. Sam was standing at the end of the hall near the entrance to the library. The look he gave you told you exactly what kind of mood he was in. He disappeared into the library and you followed shortly after.

"Sam, I can explain--"

"Explain? Really? You wanna explain why you're sleeping with demon Dean?"

"Oh like you can talk," you shot back. "You slept with a demon several times--and she tried to destroy the world."

Sam's eyes narrowed, but he knew you were right.

"Besides, he's still Dean...just a demon," you mumbled.

"Fine," Sam said with a sigh. "Is that how you convinced him to come back with you?"

You averted your gaze and bit your lip lightly. "Not exactly."

"(Y/N)...what did you do?"

"What I had to do."

"(Y/N)."

"I, uh--I made him a promise."

Sam's face paled slightly. "What did you promise him?"

You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly. "I told him I wouldn't force him to become human again."

"You what?" Sam yelled. "You can't possibly keep that promise."

"I have to, Sam. I've never betrayed Dean before and I sure as hell won't start now."

"Are you kidding me? He's a demon, (Y/N)! A monster! The kind of thing he's loathed for his entire life--you really think he wants this?"

"Of course I don't!" you yelled back. "Do you really think I want my husband to be a demon forever? This was the only way to get him to agree to come back here with me. I don't regret making this promise and I would do it again if I had to!"

"So you'll break it?" Sam asked again, voice still raised.

"No," you answered firmly. "I can't."

"How could you be so stupid, (Y/N)?" Sam yelled harshly. "This is the dumbest goddamn thing you've ever done!"

Dean appeared seemingly out of nowhere, wedging himself between you and Sam. He pushed Sam back aggressively, eyes flashing to black. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a growl. "Don't you ever speak to her like that again, or you won't make it to see another sunrise."

"Dean!" you cried, stepping forward to place a calming hand on his arm. "It's alright--I'm fine."

Dean ignored you, black eyes still trained on his brother's face. "Do you understand me?"

Sam nodded slowly.

"Apologize."

"Dean, that's not necessary," you tried.

He held up his hand to silence you. "Apologize."

Sam swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I shouldn't have said that."

"It's alright, Sam."

"Don't do it again," Dean seethed.

"Dean," you murmured softly. "We're good--I'm good."

He finally relaxed his shoulders and took a step back. His eyes flicked back to green and he turned to look at you. He seemed to scan you, checking to make sure you really were okay.

"I'm fine," you mouthed.

He nodded, finally believing you. He turned back to his brother. "Now you gonna play nice and adhere to (Y/N/N)'s promise?"

"I don't like it," Sam responded. "But fine."

Dean grinned. "Excellent. Otherwise we'd have quite a problem on our hands."

You exchanged glances between the two men and worried they would have some sort of fight sooner than later. You knew you needed to get the First Blade to Crowley before something terrible happened.

"Sam, can I borrow your phone for a moment?" you asked suddenly.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to you. Dean eyed you warily, wondering what you were up to.

"Just gonna make a quick call...outside," you mumbled.

You practically ran towards the steps, taking two at a time to get out of there before someone asked too many questions. You called Crowley as soon as the bunker door closed behind you.

"Mrs. Squirrel," Crowley answered by way of greeting.

You rolled your eyes, opting not to comment on the annoying nickname. "I have the Blade."

"Where?"

"The Bunker."

He appeared a few feet away from you and you hung up your phone. You gestured for him to follow you down towards the garage.

"Stay here," you insisted, before entering the garage as quietly as possible.

You went straight for Baby, popping the trunk to retrieve the First Blade from the demon-proof box you'd placed it in. You made your way back outside quickly, not wanting to alert Dean to your movements.

"Take it," you demanded, holding it out to Crowley. "And for the love of god, hide it--put it somewhere Dean will never find it."

"I can assure you, it will be hidden well."

"Good. Now get the hell outta here before I change my mind about killing you."

Crowley smirked mirthlessly. "With pleasure."

He disappeared, taking the First Blade with him. Relief flooded your body and you turned to make your way back into the bunker, hoping to find both men in one piece.

**********

It had been a week since you and Dean had returned to the bunker. As the week went on, Dean's anger and aggression became more and more noticeable.

He hadn't said anything to you, but you knew Dean was jonesing for a kill. You could tell by the way he'd react to things--even the slightest of annoyances would have him reacting violently.

The other indicator came out in Dean's sexual desires. He wanted you almost constantly, regardless of where you were, who else was around, or what was going on. While that alone wasn't problematic, what was concerning was his increasing aggression during sex--and if he didn't get what he wanted immediately.

There wasn't a single inch of your skin he hadn't marked in some way, and you were beyond exhausted. The one time you'd dared to say no to him, resulted in him punching a dent into a metal wall--an action that frightened you. You still didn't think he would hurt you, but you weren't willing to risk it.

Sam had begun to notice as well, especially as it pertained to the marks on your skin. Dean no longer cared about hiding them and makeup wasn't cutting it anymore.

Sam's gaze was on you as you entered the library one morning, limping slightly.

"You know, I'm really starting to worry about you," Sam said quietly.

"I'm alright," you lied as you lowered yourself into a chair, wincing in discomfort.

"Right," Sam muttered sarcastically. "You can't even sit without being in pain."

"If it keeps him from killing someone, then it's worth it," you snapped back.

Sam fell silent, knowing you were right. He wanted to bring up breaking your promise again, but he knew you wouldn't budge. He worried about how Dean would feel about all of this if he became human again...he knew his brother well enough to know it would kill him to know he'd hurt you like this.

Another week went by in much the same manner, but Dean's urge to kill had only worsened. He still hadn't hurt you outside of sex, but you'd begun to fear him--really fear him.

You'd decided to address the issue with him while Sam was out on a store run. You thought he might take it better if Sam wasn't hovering around.

Dean was sitting in the kitchen, drinking his coffee, when you walked in.

"Hey, D," you said softly. "Can we talk?"

He grunted and gestured for you to continue.

"It's about your behavior the last couple weeks. I-I know the bloodlust is getting bad and to be honest, your temper is starting to really scare me."

He looked up at you with black eyes. "Maybe if you'd let me go out and do some hunting I wouldn't be so volatile."

"You know we can't do that, Dean."

"We," he scoffed. "Since when did you and Sam become 'we'?"

You closed your eyes and sighed, ignoring his question. "You're too unpredictable. You know that better than anyone."

He stood up and took a menacing step towards you. "Give me the Blade and let me go out for a while...one or two kills and I'll be right as rain."

"I can't do that."

"I think you mean won't."

You shook your head. "I can't. I don't have the Blade."

He froze. "What the hell do you mean you don't have it?"

"I-I couldn't risk you getting ahold of it...so I made sure it was safe."

His gaze narrowed, eyes still black as ink. He took several steps towards you, but you backed away until you hit the wall behind you.

He was inches from your face when he growled lowly, "Where is it?"

"I don't know," you whispered.

"What?"

"I don't know," you repeated.

"Where did you put it?"

You were deeply regretting telling him anything at all, but you still blurted out, "I gave it to someone!"

"Who?!"

"I needed to make sure it was hidden where you would never be able to find it," you said desperately.

"Who did you give it to?" he roared.

"Crowley," you whimpered in fear.

Dean punched the wall directly beside your head and you yelped in surprise and fear.

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

You didn't answer--too afraid to push his buttons further. You could feel the rage rolling off him in waves and you felt the cold terror seize your heart.

"Call him and get it back," he ordered.

"No," you whispered. You wouldn't risk Dean getting ahold of the Blade...not for anything.

He pinned you against the wall by your throat, slamming your head back against the wall with enough force to break the skin.

His grip on your throat was painfully tight and you tried desperately to get away. "Dean--" you gasped.

For a moment, you were certain he was going to kill you--you would be the next victim of the Mark's bloodlust and there was nothing you could do about it. Even with his eyes filled with darkness, you could see the boiling rage in them. He wasn't seeing you, he was seeing his next victim.

You struggled against his hold on your throat, trying to loosen his grip enough for you to speak. You smacked your hands against his chest, trying anything to get him to release you.

You suddenly remembered your failsafe--you'd starting carrying it everywhere when Dean became more volatile. You managed to pull the item from your pocket, breaking the lid off as you brought it up and splashed the liquid into Dean's face.

He screamed and released you as the holy water burned his skin. You dropped to the ground, gasping for breath, head throbbing painfully. As you coughed and sputtered, you reached a hand to the back of your head, touching the wound softly. When you brought your hand back down, you saw blood staining your fingers.

At first, all Dean could feel was rage--you'd dared to splash holy water in his face? He'd kill you for it. But then his gaze landed on you as you crouched on the floor, blood soaking your fingers, trying to catch your breath. He looked up and saw the blood on the wall where he'd slammed your head against it and he immediately felt sick.

He stepped away from you, eyes flicking back to green as tears filled them. He hadn't meant to hurt you--even as a demon, he'd never wanted to hurt you. He'd let the Mark's rage get the best of him and he'd nearly killed you.

He backed away to the other side of the room and sank to the floor, dropping his head into his hands. He was ashamed of what he had done and for the first time since he'd become a demon, he felt like a monster.

A few minutes later, Sam came into the kitchen, arms laden with bags. His eyes landed on you first and he dropped the bags as he rushed to your side.

"(Y/N)! What happened? Are you okay?"

Without waiting for your response, Dean spoke up. "I happened."

Sam turned to look at Dean on the other side of the room. He felt angry when he heard Dean's words, but the anger dissipated when he saw the agony etched into his brother's face.

"I-I was so angry..." Dean whispered. "I didn't mean to."

"I'm okay," you rasped, voice hoarse from the trauma to your throat.

The sound of your voice nearly broke Dean's heart in half. "Give me the cure," he said to Sam.

"What?" Sam gasped in surprised.

"Make me human again. Please." The desperation in Dean's voice shocked both of you, as did his request.

"Are-are you sure?" you asked.

Dean looked at you in a mixture of sadness and pain. "I would rather risk death than ever hurt you again."

His words washed over you, warming the ache in your chest. You didn't say anything further--you couldn't find the words.

"Let's go then," Sam said firmly.

Dean stood up and followed Sam down to the dungeon. Sam came back a few minutes later to help clean your wounds. As he cleaned your head wound, he told you he'd secured Dean in the dungeon and he'd called for Castiel.

"We might need some backup for this," he muttered.

You nodded, the simple action making your head throb painfully.

"Try not to move too much," Sam said gently.

"I'm alright."

"What happened?" Castiel spoke from the doorway.

"Dean did," Sam said with a sigh.

"You need to be healed."

"No," you insisted as you held up your hand. "Don't waste what little grace you have left on me."

Cas looked down sadly, but he didn't come towards you. "Where is Dean?"

"Dungeon," you mumbled.

Cas walked away, apparently on his way to see Dean.

Sam finished cleaning your head wound and stood up. "I don't think you need stitches."

"Great," you groaned, standing up slowly.

"Woah--take it easy."

"I'm fine, Sam. We need to do this before he changes his mind."

"Cas and I can handle it."

You shook your head. "I'm not leaving him."

Sam sighed and gave you his arm to hold onto while walking down to the dungeon. When you opened the door, you saw Dean strapped to a chair in the center of the room. Cas stood off to the side, waiting.

"Let's get started," you said softly.

You left the dirty work to Sam--you couldn't bring yourself to hurt Dean, even after everything that had happened.

Listening to Dean's screams and pleas was almost too much for you to bear, but you knew it had to be done. Dean had asked to become human again...and there was nothing you wanted more.

Despite the agony he was experiencing, Dean insisted Sam continue the injections. As much as he would have rather stayed a demon, he was too afraid of what he would do to you if left unchecked.

You closed your eyes as Dean once again screamed in pain. You weren't sure how much more of this you could take, let alone Dean.

Dean noticed your demeanor--could tell your resolve was weakening. "It's okay, baby," he told you breathlessly. "I'm okay."

You opened your eyes and looked at him, unshed tears blurring your vision. He gave you a small, weak smile, which you tried to return. It ended up looking more like a wince than anything else.

"I wanted this, remember? I want this," he insisted.

You nodded tearfully. "I know. I just don't like seeing you in pain."

"We've only got one injection left," Sam cut in gently.

You watched in silence as Sam injected him with the final dose. Dean once again cried out, before falling completely silent, head drooping forward.

"Dean?" you whispered in fear.

When he didn't respond, you worried you had all gone too far...that Dean was dead.

As the three of you stared at the man in the chair, you heard a soft groan escape his lips and he slowly lifted his head. His eyes fluttered open, revealing the beautiful green orbs you loved so much.

"You guys look worried," Dean said softly.

Sam splashed some holy water on his brother, but the liquid had no effect.

You let out a choked sob, beyond relieved to have your husband back.

You thought you heard Sam say, "welcome back Dean," but you were too focused on Dean's face to be sure. His own gaze was locked on yours, tears filing his eyes as he slowly took in the marks littering your skin--especially the bruising around your throat in the shape of his hand.

"(Y/N/N)," he whispered, his voice more broken than you'd ever heard it.

"Uncuff him," you said to Sam, who immediately did as you asked.

Dean stood up, clearly weak from the ordeal he'd just gone through, but nothing would have stopped him from getting to you.

He was a foot or two away from you when you gave in to your own desires, closing the gap between you. You wrapped your arms around him tightly and sobbed into his chest--letting out all the pain you'd kept inside for the last couple months.

Dean's arms held you close, lips pressed firmly into your hair, his own tears streaming down his face. Neither of you spoke--there was no need, not yet anyway.

After several minutes, you finally stepped back, wiping the tears from your face. You smiled up at him and whispered, "I love you."

You saw something flash across his face, but it was gone before you could place it. "I love you too," he murmured.

You stood to the side as Sam hugged Dean, followed by Cas. Everyone was glad to have him back, but you could see Dean was struggling--he clearly remembered every moment of being a demon...and you had no idea what kind of impact that would have on him.

"Alright guys, I think he needs some rest. He's been through a lot today," you interrupted softly.

Dean looked at you gratefully and both Sam and Cas nodded their agreement.

"Come on," you murmured, reaching out for Dean's hand.

He grabbed it and followed you to your shared bedroom. To your surprise, he stopped just outside the door. "I think I'd rather sleep in one of the other rooms."

You looked at him in confusion, but he wouldn't quite meet your gaze. "Okay," you whispered. "Whatever you'd prefer."

You followed him to a room down the hall, waiting quietly as he took off his boots before climbing into the bed.

"Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm alright."

You knew he was most definitely not alright, but now wasn't the time to address it.

"Okay. I'll be down the hall if you need me."

He nodded, but said nothing further. He once again couldn't look at you as you left the room. Sadness laced its icy tendrils around your heart, despite the joy you felt at Dean's return to humanity.

You went to join Sam and Cas in the library, not quite wanting to be alone. You didn't want to talk either, but just being around people you loved made you feel a little bit better.

You knew Dean's road to recovery would be long, as would your own. You weren't sure what trials lay ahead of you, but you knew the two of you would make it through--you always did.

If there was one thing you knew for sure, it was how much Dean loved you--if the last few weeks taught you anything, it was that. Your own love for Dean was equally endless--there was nothing you wouldn't do for him. As cliche as it was, love really could conquer all.

[homunculus-argument]

I don't want a fancy grave, but if I got one, I'd want my tombstone to be a realistic, life-sized statue of me. Not in any particular position, but the key feature of it is that it doesn't have a head. My comical goose neck just ends in a perfectly even, stable platter, whereupon anyone who visits the grave can place whatever object they think would be funny to put there to be my head.

Make it the city's longest ongoing joke, people visiting the grave and sharing on social media whatever my head currently is. Usually it's a seasonal fruit, or something goofy. Sometimes in the winter it's just a snowball, made into a snowman's head. One year a particularly brave or stupid bird couple makes a nest there. Nobody dares to disturb that one for a long while, but once it's clear the birds are gone, the empty nest is gone one day, replaced with the kettle part of a broken electric kettle.

Most people don't know, remember or care whose grave this originally even was. It's just the Headless Man of the Cemetery, whose head is frequently replaced with a completely new and random piece of nonsense, in death just like it was in life.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 13: Taking Out The Trash

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you neve expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.  (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy

Word Count: 13.1K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), Swearing, Mentions of Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Blood, GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF DEATH, DEATH, BLOOD, GUTS, Threatening, Denial, Attempted Manipulation, References to attempted SA in the past, Depressing Thoughts, INSANE REVELATIONS, CONFESSIONS, Talks about weed, Super Manipulative Creepy Trash Man, Sexist comments, Homophobic Comments? Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: I'm not going to lie, at the beginning of this chapter it's cute, but the rest of it gets... UNHINGED. I mean its dark because some things are revealed that I don't know why my mind went there immediately but... Also, apparently foreshadowing with dreams is my thing now 🤷🏻‍♀️?

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

"Are you sure that you're okay to start work today?" Jake asked you for the millionth time from across the large cherry wood table that proudly stood in the front window of the shop. "Because there's no shame in staying home and resting for a few more days."

He was holding a large box filled with golden barrel cactus that were about to be placed in the new window display that Jake and you were constructing. His dirty blonde hair was scruffier today, hanging into his face just over the top of his tortoise shell glasses. The red and navy flannel he wore stretched over his arms with the flexing of his muscles beneath as he watched you with interest, worry seeping into the clear blue of his eyes.

The store was as you remembered, almost blindingly green, with trailing vines that kissed your arms when you walked through the front door as if welcoming you home and the healing energy from the plants within fusing your body with newfound strength. You could feel the subtle push of roots in the earth, the unfurling of bright leaves,  the swell of fruit on outstretched branches, and the gentle bend of each petal on the vegetation inside the shop speaking to you and reassuring you. It was welcome after being trapped in a freezer for four days.

Jake didn't know about any of that.

Annie had come up with a lie that you'd been in a car accident when Butcher loaned you his car for a job. It hurt you to lie to Jake, especially when he had brought all the plants to your hospital room because he knew it would make you feel better, but you were still trying to keep that part of your life separate from him. Honestly, you worried that if Jake found out how fucked up the other half of your life was he'd fire you, so you didn't bring it hurtling in through the front of his shop like a freight train. And you really loved working here.

It felt natural for you, tending to the plants, helping teach other people how to for anything that grew while gently showing the love of gardening and tending the earth.

Jake had been pondering the idea of having workshops on the weekend at the shop after hours and he'd finally said yes.

Hopefully, I'd be able to use both of my arms by then. 

You were beyond discouraged that hadn't been able to do any of your crochet projects and you felt like a disappointment when you couldn't go to your bi-monthly crochet circle/class that you lead at the Assisted Living Facility a few blocks over. The woman on the phone from the facility had sounded so disappointed when you told her that you couldn't come and it only made you feel worse.

But it was nice to be back in the swing of things at the shop and wonderful to be back in a place that you felt at ease, but there was something tugging in your chest. It was an odd feeling, not as if you'd forgotten something, but almost as if you missed something. As if there was something that wasn't here that should be and you couldn’t put your finger on it.

A week had passed since you'd been released from the hospital and you were eager to get out from under Ben's house arrest to start working again even with your arm in a large and almost impossible cast to maneuver. You were calling it “house arrest”, because after your grandmother left, Ben refused to let you leave the apartment, stating that you needed to rest. And when you argued with him that you'd had enough rest, he'd planted himself in front of the door and refused to budge.

You were going stir crazy with nothing to do and you probably could have moved him if you really tried, but you didn't want to fight with Ben. Not when he was the person who'd brought you back from the warehouse and not when he was acting different.

Your lips press into a firm line when you think about the past week that you'd spent at home with him. Ben was going out of his way to do everything for you that he could, but that didn't mean you weren't annoyed. You'd had to practically swat him away with one of the wooden spoons in the kitchen when you were heating up a lasagna your grandmother left after he'd loudly complained that you shouldn't be standing for too long and tried to carry you back to the couch. Ben was acting like you couldn’t take care of yourself and hadn't been taking care of yourself since you moved away from home. It was odd.

And he kept doing little things around the apartment, like picking up his clothes and making sure to remember to put things in the dishwasher. Things that he hadn’t cared about before you got hurt and things that you’d yelled at him to do before everything happened. And he always made sure that the couch was clear incase you wanted to watch a movie or just read for a little while. Two things that you had been doing more often since you got out of the hospital.

But weirder still was that Ben hadn't been on one "date," since you got back. The only time he'd left the apartment was in the morning to get the paper and he always brought you back coffee or the pineapple iced tea you loved.

Yesterday he had finally allowed you to leave the apartment to go to the grocery store, because when you tried to give him a shopping list he'd said "I don’t need a fucking list I’m a man!" but then you’d asked him to repeat everything you'd told him to buy and he couldn’t.

The whole time out of the apartment you’d made plenty of jokes about the healing power of fresh air, while Ben countered by making a joke about the healing power of sex and that he'd be happy to make you feel better.

The trip to the grocery store hadn’t ended in bloodshed, even when you had to keep reminding Ben not to buy the name brand things and he'd ignored you or when Ben complained the whole time about how expensive everything was and how long it was taking you to find everything.

But the weirdest thing that happened was when the two of you were looking a produce there was a woman who kept trying to come on to Ben when you were testing the grapes and he completely ignored her. Surprising you because she looked like his type, and when she'd walked away Ben had dropped to his knees to tie your shoe because he noticed that it was loose.

When you'd teased him about it, he said that he "didn't want you to break your other arm when you tripped and ate shit on the concrete." You'd had no problem flipping him off with your unbroken hand.

But despite your insistences for Ben to try and find cheaper brands none of it mattered, because when you got to the register Ben paid for the groceries even when you’d explicitly discussed splitting the bill. The cashier had noted what a gentleman Ben was and you’d grumbled something impolite under your breath so low that only Ben could hear.

But Ben couldn't help you with everything, well, you didn't trust him to close his eyes when you needed help getting dressed or needed help washing your hair.

For those little things, Annie would come over, but she hadn't been sympathetic to your pleas to make Ben let you out of the apartment. In fact, when you hoped Ben wasn't listening she'd made a comment about exactly what you should be doing with a hot older man while being trapped in an apartment with only one bed. The raspberry vines that cling to the refrigerator had started spitting raspberries at her when she said it. And then Ben had looked over the back of the couch at the two of you and said "that's what I keep telling her."

At least when my grandmother was here she didn’t pry about Ben and me.

Your grandmother had stayed for three days following your return from the hospital, sleeping next to you on your queen sized bed before she went back to Illinois and everyday you were more surprised how much she and Ben knew each other. The easy way they spoke to one another, the jokes, the teasing, and the poker games that always ended in your grandmother winning an almost obscene amount of money from Ben all made your head spin. Especially, because whenever she won Ben would accuse her of "cheating," and she'd only roll her eyes and state that someone as old as Ben should be better at poker. But the way he'd said she was cheating was different, not as if she had cards up her sleeve, but if there was some other reason why she could cheat. It was confusing and a little frustrating, because you were terrible at poker.

You didn't understand how you could be that bad, but then Ben had poked the skin between your eyebrows that scrunched under his scrutiny and stated that you were "too easy to read" while your grandmother laughed at you.

She still wouldn’t answer your questions about how she knew Ben, but to you it appeared to be more than them running into each other a few times, it almost seemed like a friendship. You believed her when she said that they didn’t sleep together, but you didn't understand how they could have been friends. She'd never spoken about that part of her life with you before, just her childhood and when she met your grandfather. Needless to say it was like you were seeing a different person when she was around Ben.

Deep down you wondered if she was a supe, but she'd never said that before and you didn’t know why she would keep something like that from you, not when you were one too.

But when Ben noticed how discouraged you got playing poker, he let you look over his shoulder at his hand and watch him play. He was very much in his element and every few hands he would make a joke about playing strip poker to which your grandmother would reply "If you want to be naked that bad Ben, you might as well just go down to the corner and put it to good use."

When she left you were sad to see her go and even Ben seemed a little more moody than usual, almost as if he missed having her around. You missed her too. While she stayed with you, you hadn't had the nightmare, but the night she left you did. You'd woken up gasping for air, the unnatural flash of whitish blue light that raced towards the windshield from the dream vibrating against your skin. Ben had come in to check on you, without breaking down the door, and he'd sat with you until you calmed down enough to fall asleep.

But it was still unusual that Ben acted like he missed your grandmother. You'd never met any other friends that Ben had besides Legend and you wondered if Ben really was as lonely as you thought he was. In the past you'd ascribed that to the reason why he went out with so many women, but this time it only confused you because Ben hadn't been out with a single person all week. You couldn’t think of a reason why that was or what could have changed for Ben to avoid using Tinder. If anything you'd thought he would be bored sitting around the apartment with you, but he wasn't. He'd sit with you on the couch watching a movie or read the paper when you read your book, not talking about anything in particular.

There was only one subject you wanted to discuss.

The two of you hadn't talked about what almost happened on the couch when you slept together when Darren was visiting or the way Ben gently touched you in the hospital. You'd mentally compartmentalized it to being a fluke and were happy that things were going back to normal or at least normal-ish. 

But sometimes your mind would wander to how Ben acted when you were in the hospital, how he'd cupped and held your face, how he'd touched you so reverently, what he'd said about not wanting to leave you with Elijah, and how angry he looked when he found out exactly what Elijah had tried to do.

But whenever you thought about talking to him about that, you’d only shake off the urge and ascribe it to Ben wanting to try and be friends. The exact thing that you'd suggested to him the night of the party.

He's respecting me. If he wants to be friends I can be friends with him. Even if he is acting weird.

In fact, this morning, he'd walked with you to the shop this morning as if it was a normal day.

*2 Hours Ago*

Ben frowns at you. "Maybe you should rest one more day-"

He'd been saying that the entire walk to the shop, but you weren't going to give him the satisfaction of letting him trap you in the apartment for another day.

“Ben it'll be fine. I've rested enough-" You rolled your eyes at him, confused that he was making such a big deal about this. It was both annoying and frustrating you how overprotective he was acting and it was making you mad.

“What about your arm? You can’t lift anything-“ He presses.

“Jake is here for that.” You gestured with your head to where Jake was hovering behind the two of you at the register counting the till while pretending not to listen.

"That makes me feel a hell of a lot better. You think that fucking twink can lift more than me?" Ben scoffs. “Maybe I should stay.”

"Why?"

"So I can lift things!"

“Stop babying me Gramps!"

“I'm not babying you!" He rolls his eyes at the nickname.

“Yes you are! Why are you acting like a helicopter parent? I'm fine. It's been a week and I am completely and utterly-"

Ben's hand comes up and pushes back a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering for just a second too long against your cheek. The motion makes you freeze, the warmth of his skin like a siren call. "I don't think you need to come back to work so soon." He says quietly, eyes flicking up to where Jake is before he lowers his voice even more. “You were kidnapped and you got hurt. Not to mention that asshole tried to-" Ben's gaze loses any of the softness it held as he remembers what you told him about what Elijah did.

"Ben." You whisper raising your hand to gently touch his wrist. "I promise I'm okay. I'm not doing this to prove anything. I want to be here. I like being here."

"And you don't like being at home with me." Ben whispers it so low that you almost miss it. He withdrawals his hand from your cheek looking angry.

The memory of the day you walked in on Ben talking to Bean hovers over you:

"Why does she hate me so much?"

When you’d heard Ben ask Bean that it hurt you. You didn't want Ben to think that you hated him. He frustrated you and annoyed you, but you didn’t hate him.

Well, he hasn't been annoying me as much lately.

And if anything you were trying not to think about how much you liked being at home with Ben, how much you liked spending time with him. It was easier to try not to focus on that, not when Ben was acting like someone you could love.

Ben doesn't believe in love, not after everything that got fucked up with Countess. I don't think I could ever fall in love with someone like him either. Sure he's attractive, but he's so damn annoying.

"Look at me." You lay your hand on his arm to draw his gaze back to you. Ben almost looks a little embarrassed that you heard him say it and you watch his eyes flick over your head to where Jake is. You pull him through the plants to give the two of you some privacy. "I don't hate you. And I'm not doing this because I don't want to be at home with you." Your cheeks flush with the word 'home.'

Ben kept using it so casually, but to you it always meant something else. Home was the place where you went where no one judged you, where you went to be with the people who loved you unconditionally, and where you felt that you could be yourself with no judgement. Not to mention you believed that eventually your "home" would become a person. Or at least that was what you wanted to happen. Those prospects were looking pretty slim as of late and you were still on the fence about online dating.

Hughie and Annie met the old fashioned way so why should I have to go on an online site only to be rejected based on looks only?

You refocus on the conversation that you're having with Ben.

"I want things to go back to normal, before everything that happened with Darren and Elijah. And this is the only way that I know how." The mention of Elijah's name brings the memory of him on top of you to simmer beneath the surface. You were trying to forget, but every once in a while the memory would come creeping back in bringing the chill of the first frost in its wake to brush against your skin.

Ben's expression softens. "That quack at the hospital said you should rest."

"You mean the man who went to school for over four years to get a degree told me to rest?"

"Then he knows what the fuck he's talking about!"

"Ben-"

"Petals." He sighs the nickname in the soft way that makes a tingle travel down your spine. Ben had been saying it like that more often confusing you further. "You went through a lot and I'm trying to make sure that you’re okay.”

Why does he care about that?

“I am okay.” You whisper. “I’m sick of being on house arrest in the apartment. I can only watch so many of your old films before I go completely insane.”

“They’re not that bad.”

"Debatable."

Ben sighs again, but he seems to realize that you're not going to budge. You were just as stubborn as he was and you knew that he hated that about you. "Fine. I've got to do something today anyway."

"You got a date?"

You meant it as a joke, but for some reason you feel a twinge deep down that you weren't expecting.

"No." For a moment you think Ben almost looks offended by the suggestion. "Butcher's helping me with something."

"With what? You hate Butcher. And why would he want to do you a favor?"

"Because he wants to find the sick son of a bitch as much as I do!" Ben growls, the soft look in Ben's eyes goes dark as you realize who he's talking about.

You hadn't heard from Darren since everything with Elijah. Not that you expected to. Darren's things had vanished from your apartment and he was gone without a trace. Butcher had tried to track the phone Darren had, but it was out of service. You didn’t want to see him and you didn’t want to think about him, not after everything he'd put you through. It was like Darren to suddenly show up with an apology and say everything that you wanted him to. In the past you'd thought it was because he cared about you and didn't want to lose you, but it was becoming more and more apparent that Darren knew exactly what to say to get you to forgive him. He played you so easily that it broke your heart.

It was hard for you to acknowledge that and hard for you to believe that after all these years the relationship you had with your brother had been a lie, a well rehearsed play that Darren performed whenever he was in town.

And this time you weren't going to forgive him. Not when he'd given you to Elijah like a form of payment. Darren was done using you and you were ready to cut him out of your life.

At least, that was what you told yourself anyway. Sometimes when it was dark and you were all alone in your room you thought that maybe you should forgive him because he was your brother and you didn’t want to abandon him. You'd never admit that out loud, and certainly not in front of Ben, but you weren't sure if you were strong enough to turn Darren down if he reappeared.

"Oh." You look down at your shoes for a second while chewing on the inside of your cheek.

There's an awkward silence that passes through the two of you, charged with the same energy that hovered between you when you were back at the hospital. And you can’t help but think that Ben looks disappointed that he has to leave. You again wonder why he was being so overprotective, especially when he said that he didn't care about you.

That was another thing that you were starting to believe was a lie, Ben cared about you even if he didn't want to admit it, because someone who cared wouldn't do everything he had done for you over the past week.

"Petals?"

"Yes Gramps?" You look up at him mentally preparing for him to ask you again if you're okay, but he doesn't.

"Don’t get into any strange cars." Ben's lips tilt up into a smirk.

"Even if they say they have candy?"

Ben only shakes his head, but then he lingers for a second too long, as if he's waiting for something. "And try not to break anything else." He mutters and then he's gone.

Why is he acting so weird?

*Present Time*

"Because Ben said-" Jake says, snapping you out of the memory of Ben saying goodbye.

"When did you guys talk?" You look up at him from the table in shock.

"Well, I tried to come see you three days ago and he didn't let me in. He said you needed rest and that I should come back later." He explains, emptying another box of cacti.

"You came by?" You ask him confused. The cacti are in multicolored pots and you try your best to avoid the spines as you shift them over the table into position.

"Yeah. Ben said he'd tell you that I did."

"Huh."

Ben hadn't told you that Jake came by, hadn't mentioned it once and he'd had plenty of opportunities to tell you. The two of you were practically both living on the couch, because Ben was making you watch all of his old movies. You think that he was trying to impress you with his acting skills, but all it did was make you mock him endlessly for the cheesy lines and the ridiculous helmet they made him wear as a part of his supe suit. You had taken to repeating the lines from the movies at the most inopportune times to tease him and Ben had started teasing you with quotes from the romance novels that you liked.

Your cheeks flushed at the memory.

It had been embarrassing. You were reading on the couch quietly to yourself and were so absorbed in the scene that Ben had snuck up behind you to read over your shoulder. It hadn't helped that you were at a particular steamy part. He'd made a joke of wanting to re-enact whatever you wanted from the chapter and you'd stomped away to take a shower. It was getting harder to deny his requests to sleep with you, especially when Ben was acting different than he usually did and had been acting like a new person since you got back from the hospital.

"He didn't tell you?" Jake looks disappointed.

"Gramps is forgetful sometimes." You frown at the display between the two of you.

Why didn’t he tell me that Jake came by? Jake has been so sweet. He brought me all those plants and he was worried about me. Or at least… You bite the inside of your cheek remembering what Ben said about when Jake came to the hospital:

"He was fawning all over you like a fucking pussy, thought he was going to cry."

You hadn't thought about Jake at all, other than the occasional wave of guilt for leaving him without any help for a whole week. But it was weird that Ben hadn't told you that Jake stopped by, because when Mike brought you a bouquet of yellow roses Ben had let him in and stood with a cup of coffee in the kitchen smirking at you as Mike talked with you for thirty minutes about how nice the weather was outside. It made you want to strangle Ben, but as retaliation when Mike's mother came by later with a basket of wheat grass muffins and something that looked like green sludge you'd invited her in to talk with Ben. She'd sat on the couch in a bright pink mumu, rubbing his upper thigh and talking about her ex-husband while Ben glared at you every chance he got and you sipped a cup of blueberry tea and laughed quietly to yourself.

"Why do you call him that?" Jake asks while putting down a golden barrel and grabbing a fishhook cactus carefully to avoid the spikes.

"Because he acts like a grumpy old man." You snort to yourself thinking of how cute you thought it was when Ben acted all crochety and frustrated by modern day technology.

"He does." Jake laughs. "So…"

"So?"

"Are you guys together?"

"What?" You sputter looking up from the plants to Jake with wide eyes. "Why do you think that?"

"Well he's always around." Jake picks up the empty box and stacks it on top of another one. "And he always acts kind of…" Jake shrugs.

"Kind of what?"

"Jealous. He's always mad at me for some reason."

"That's just how he is. You gotta peel back the layers like an onion when it comes to him." The words are easy, but you can't help but be a little bit surprised. You were defending Ben. You’d never defended him before, made fun of him, apologized for him, but never defended him. "I mean he's-" You prick your thumb on one of the spikes. "Ow."

"Did it get'cha?" Jake snorts.

"Yeah must be losing my touch. Went soft on all my days off."

"You deserved those days off. You needed to rest-"

You roll your eyes. "Please don't say the r word again. Ben's been saying it for the past week."

"I'm serious." Jake picks up another golden barrel and arranges it on a higher platform on the display. "There's something going on between the two of you."

"You mean Ben driving me to the point of insanity?"

"No. I mean the guy is always watching you-"

"He likes to stare at my ass." You roll your eyes at Jake. "What else is new?"

His cheeks flush with your mention of Ben's interest in your body. "I don’t mean like that. He always looks at you when you're working."

Your straighten up from the floor with a fresh box of Christmas Cactus, arranging the long tendrils so that they are hanging down over the edge of the table. "What do you mean?"

"Sometimes I see him walk by later in the day when you're reading at the register."

What? When has Ben been walking by and why? Is he spying on me?

"What? When?"

Jake shrugs. "I don't know just sometimes. He never comes in. One time he walked by with two cups of coffee, but he just kept walking."

Probably for one of his dates.

"Ben isn't interested in me like that. We're just friends and roommates." When you say that your chest gets a little bit tighter. "Ben doesn't have relationships, he has flings. The guy is basically a walking Trojan ad."

Jake runs a hand through his shaggy dirty-blond hair, to push it out of his face and away from his glasses. "I don't know, you didn't see him when you were asleep in the hospital. The guy was practically daring anyone to get close, like he was trying to protect you from something."

His words make you chew the inside of your cheek remembering what your grandmother said about Ben yelling at the doctors and the nurses and make you think about how overprotective Ben seemed to be acting over the past few days.

Ben is just trying to be a better friend. He knows that I went through a lot.

Annie had also been acting overprotective as well. She kept bringing things by the apartment to make your life easier with the cast and she kept bringing by food. She'd also brought by a big bag of thrifted romance books that she had found at your favorite used bookstore Inky's Inspirations and the two of you had spent the better part of a day devouring them. She was making more time for you because you knew that she felt bad about you getting hurt, and Hughie came by too. Ben didn't share the same enthusiasm that Hughie had for conversation, but whenever Ben was mean you would glare at him and Ben would huff out something under his breath and try to contribute more to the conversation.

"That's just how he is. Ben is kinda," You wave a hand. "Protective of his friends."

"I noticed." Jake frowns. "But I guess I'll take your word for it."

An awkward silence follows and the two of you finish the display, but you can't stop thinking about Ben walking past the shop.

How many times did he do that? And why? He always seems to hate walking and makes a big deal about me walking by myself. Why would he want to walk here all the way from Butcher's?

"Why don't you go check out the display of herbs by the register? I'm not sure how to arrange the Rosemary and the Oregano."

"Sure." You shrug heading back through the aisles that spill vines onto the concrete floor, your hand sliding through the leaves as you walk, feeling the plants begin to perk up with your gentle touch. The browning leaves vanished, the drooping stems straightened, and the plants turned up to you as if you were the sun.

Being here again and having a normal day was making you feel better. At home your plants had needed some TLC after you were gone for so many days and as hard as Jake tried to maintain every single plant in the store, you knew that it was too much for him to contain. Things like that were easy for you.

The day passes by slowly. Ben had told you that he'd be there to pick you up at closing and you found yourself checking the clock. You'd never done that before. When you were working in the past you never wished for the day to be over, but for some reason the idea that Ben was going to pick you up made you almost happy.

The shiny metal bell above the door jingled as the last customer of the day entered the shop, but you don't look up from the bouquet of flowers you were arranging for a last minute birthday order that someone called in for tomorrow morning. You didn't often do them, but Jake was busy breaking down the display of flowering plants in the other window and you were more than happy to help out.

Even if it was difficult with one hand.

You could hear whoever it was coming closer to the register, the sound of their shoes clunking against the weathered gray concrete floors with every step.

"Welcome in. Can I help you with something?" You don't look away from the sunflowers in the vase in front of you, using one hand to place some holly ferns to give it a bit more green before you reach for the baby's breath that sits in a bundle on the vintage wooden bar that served as a desk for the register.

"Well I'm not sure. Do you have anything that says 'I'm sorry my friend kidnapped you?'" A familiar voice asks.

Your head jerks upwards at the sound of the voice, but you already know who it is.

Darren stands there in his traditional black army jacket. His blonde buzzed hair is blindingly white in the sunlight that comes through the wide glass windows at the front of the shop, catching the glint of the gunmetal colored hoops in his right eyebrow. His smile is sheepish, apologetic, and if you hadn’t been through what you did, you might have believed that it was genuine.

"Darren?" Your voice is no more than a whisper, surprise leaking into it as you utter your brother's name.

You didn’t actually think that he would come to see you, not when he knew who Ben really was, and not when he knew that you knew he sacrificed you to save his own skin.

"Hey sissy. Did you miss me?"

The nickname strikes a nerve deep down.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Jake glances over from the front window his eyes widening at your sudden outburst. He'd never met your brother before and he knew that something must be wrong if you were angry. Jake knew you well enough to know how composed you were most of the time and knew that for you to be angry something must really be wrong.

"I wanted to see you. Can I give you a hug?" Darren holds out his arms towards you.

"What do you think?"

"But you love hugs." He makes a step towards the end of the register.

"If you take another step I'm going to scream. What are you doing here?" You say again.

"I told you. I wanted to see you. I haven't been able to see you since-"

“Since you handed me over to Elijah to pay off your fucking gambling debt?” The baby's breath in your hand crumbles into a ball, but you barely feel it.

“See." Darren rolls his eyes and holds up a finger. "I knew you’d overreact. You’re way too sensitive.” 

“Overreact? OVERREACT? He locked me in a fucking freezer!” You spit. “He tried to-“ A cold feeling rises and prickles against your skin when you remember the weight of Elijah’s body on yours and the way his hand squeezed your throat. The purplish-black marks were still there, but hidden under a burgundy ribbed turtle neck sweater that you'd put on this morning. You figured it would be hard to explain those marks to Jake, especially when Annie had told him you were in a car accident.

“Hey, is everything okay over here?” Jake interrupts. He wipes this dirt covered hands on his jeans as he gets closer to where Darren is leaning against the front of the register.

"Yeah." You clear your throat. "Darren was just leaving."

"No, I'm not." Darren hasn't looked away from you and hasn't acknowledged Jake's presence. "I want to talk to you."

"Too bad. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say." You breathe, but you could feel a twinge in your heart. The love you had for your brother was ebbing just on the edge of the rage and heartbreak that you felt every time you think about what he did to you. It was difficult to treat him this way, not when you'd given in to whatever he wanted for so long. You hated that about yourself, hated the piece of you that wanted to forgive him.

But Darren does not move, in fact you can see the way his eyes flick over you as if he can sense that you're unsure.

"I want to talk this out." He says a little more forcefully.

"If she says that she doesn’t want to talk to you, I’m going to have to ask you to leave." Jake replies continuing to frown at your brother. They were both about the same height, but where Darren was rail-thin, Jake had a little bit more muscle to him. Not as much as Ben, but enough that he was bigger that your brother.

But you knew that it would do little good. Darren was even more stubborn that you were, and you could see the dangerous glint in his eyes that got him into trouble more times than you could count when the two of you were growing up.

“Try it four eyes." Darren's lips pull back in a challenge.

The lights overhead flicker for just a second, almost imperceivable to the eye. Jake crosses his arms over his chest in a way that you think he must believe is intimidating. “I’m going to ask you to leave one more time before I call the police.” 

"And I said that I'm not going to fucking leave without talking to my sister."

"Sister?" Jake falters looking at you, his blue eyes wide in surprise behind his glasses.

You stand there for a moment trying to think of a way out of this. There's a little voice buzzing in your ear telling you that something is wrong, but you can't put your finger on it. And an even smaller voice whispering that you should call Ben.

I don't need him to handle this. Darren and I have to talk eventually and might as well do it now.

"Fine, but let's take this outside." You walk around from behind the register. "Jake has to lock up in fifteen minutes."

"Perfect! I just need five." Darren smiles at you the same way that he always has, the smile that you'd laughed with and allowed to reassure you, but this time all it does is make all of this worse.

When the two of you get outside, the sun is just starting to sink behind the buildings, bathing everything in a golden glow. Despite the situation it is a beautiful day. The smell of the bakery next door sent the soothing aroma of cinnamon and brown sugar each time it's door opened, the warmth of the sun was on your back and shoulders, the wind had picked up just enough to rustle your hair where it was pulled back from your face in a ponytail, and you could hear the children playing in the park just around the corner where the trees sent their long shadows over the playground.

Darren shifts from foot to foot and you can see the way he's trying to think of something to say, as if he's pretending that he didn't rehearse this in his head. You wonder if he's always done that, if he'd rehearsed everything he ever said to you because he knew exactly what to say to get you to agree for so long.

"Look Darren, I don't want to talk about this. Nothing that you're going to say is going to make any of this okay. Nothing that happened was okay! You left me there with him, you brought me to him, and then you lied about why I was really there."

"I'm sorry about that." Darren's gaze softens, eyebrows furrowing in mock sincerity. "Believe me, I wouldn't have taken you there if I knew that Elijah was going to do any of those things to you honey."

"Oh that is such-"

"I will admit that I did lie about why you were there. But I knew that you wouldn't come if I told you that it was for weed and Elijah really said he just wanted you to look at the plants for a few minutes. He didn't say anything about a freezer." Darren holds up his hands as if surrendering.

"And there it is! You admit that you lied to me, that you manipulated me to get me to go with you. And then you had the audacity to say that if I was uncomfortable we could go home!" You shout at him, narrowing your eyes. "Well Darren, I gotta tell you I was fucking uncomfortable in that damn freezer and in his damn office, and where were you? Oh right…" You tap your lips with the tip of your finger. "You left me there with that fucking psychopath!"

"I didn't leave you there! I called Richie and when I came back into the office, you were gone. Elijah told me that you left! I went back to your apartment and-" Darren frowns at you. He didn't like that you weren't listening to what he had to say.

"Do you expect me to believe any of that bullshit?" You plant your hands on your hips as you interrupt him, feeling a surge of anger swelling in your chest.

Even though the two of you are technically standing outside of the shop, you can still feel the energy from the plants inside, intertwining with you, strengthening you, and waiting for your command.

Truthfully ever since you'd killed Elijah you hadn't been able to forget it. You'd never used your powers like that before, never knew that you could, and never had fanaticized about that. But now, standing outside of the shop with your brother you could feel the plants calling out to you, asking you to command them, begging you to free them. You could feel them clawing in the dirt, the roots beneath writhing and unsettled, the flowers turning to watch Darren and you. Even the trees down the street that stood as stoic protectors over the children playing beneath their feet began to bend towards the two of you.

Sure in the past you'd been connected to the world around you, but ever since everything that happened with Elijah, your powers felt different, as if there was something else brewing and prickling beneath your skin that begged to be unleashed.

"I'm trying to apologize and you won't even listen to me!" Your brother shouts. Darren was leaning down over you, not as tall as Ben, but tall enough to be bigger than you.

You'd never feared him in the past, but you saw something flicker behind his eyes, something predatory, something that you'd never seen before in all the years that you'd spent with your brother.

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say Darren. I want you to leave-" You reply, hands still planted on your hips.

"No."

"No?"

"No. I can't stop by your damn apartment because you have that asshole hovering around. He would tear me to pieces before I got a chance to talk to you. And I want to explain what happened." Darren snaps back, eyes dark.

"I know what happened! Elijah told me exactly-"

"You're going to believe him over me? I'm your brother! I'm your blood, do you really think that I would have let Elijah do any of those things to you if I knew he would?"

"I don't know anymore."

It broke your heart to admit that aloud, but it was true. You didn't know if Darren cared about you at all and if he loved you the way that you loved him, if he ever had.

"What do you mean you don't know?" He looks hurt, shoulders slumping downward. "Sissy-"

"I-" You falter.

For just a fleeting moment the anger and heartbreak you feel towards your brother recedes just enough for the love you have for him begin to trickle back in. You wanted to believe that he cared about you. Frustrated tears burn in your eyes, because a part of you wants to push him away but there's another part that clings on with bloody fingertips and asks you to listen to him.

Because Darren was your family and all you could think of was if your parents were here what would they do? All those years that you supported your brother you'd thought that you were honoring their memory by refusing to turn your back on him. You wanted to love your brother, wanted to believe that everything he was saying was genuine, and all the years that you gave in to whatever Darren asked you were bearing down on you.

"Come on sissy. I love you. You're the only family that I have left." Darren soothes taking a step closer to you when he senses how hesitant you are to push him away.

"Well-"

"Please listen to-" Darren begins to say, but his entire body is yanked backward by something.

"She doesn't need to hear another fucking word you have to say." Ben snarls, holding Darren tightly by the throat above the sidewalk.

You hadn't seen him walk up. Ben could move silently when he wanted to and right now he looks murderous. There's a fire blazing behind his eyes turning them into heated furnaces of pure emerald, practically glowing in the last slips of the sunlight that peeks behind the buildings and stretches the shadows long over the almost empty street. His mouth is pulled back in a snarl as he stares at your brother, the grip he has on his throat tightening.

The couple across the street gasp when they watch Darren struggle in Ben's unbreakable grip, but Ben doesn't acknowledge them.

"I made you a promise." Ben's voice is a low growl as he holds Darren up so high off the ground that Darren's feet kick helplessly in the air. "You should have stayed gone you insignificant piece of shit."

Darren's eyes flash to yours. "Are you really going to let him treat me this way? I'm your brother!"

Ben's grip tightens on his throat and Darren grabs on to Ben's wrist.

You stand there frozen in horror unable to speak. A part of you is screaming for Ben to let him go and another part of you is begging for Ben to do what you don't think you can. You felt so weak in that moment, unable to turn your back on your brother, on the abuser, the manipulator, and the man who used you for years.

Ben's eyes flick to yours for a moment, something passing through his gaze that you can't understand, but it gives you strength.

"Sissy?" Darren's voice sounds so broken.

"Ben. Put him down." You say.

"What?" Ben snaps, eyes flashing.

"Please. Put him down." You breathe, your eyes catching Ben's for a moment.

Ben's jaw is tight, the muscles in his torso tense, but he does what you say with a grunt. Darren's body falls onto the sidewalk and he gasps for air, touching his throat as he gets to his feet.

Darren smiles at you through the deep breaths. "I knew you wouldn't let him-"

"Leave" You say as calmly as you can, but there's a slight tremor on the edge of your voice.

Ben takes a step closer to you when he hears it, but he doesn't touch you. He's still staring down Darren, eyebrows pulled tight together, and his mouth turned down into a frown with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. You know that he's probably a little pissed at you that you told him to put Darren down, but you also couldn't believe that he listened to you.

"What?" Darren stutters.

"Leave." You repeat. "I never want you to come back here ever."

"But I'm your-"

"If you say that you're her fucking brother one more time, I'm going to rip you in half." Ben's hands clench at his sides and you know that he's holding himself back from grabbing Darren again.

“You’re my family. I love you.” Darren says, the edge of his voice cracking just a little bit, but there's something behind his gaze that makes you pause. You're not sure if it's because he's trying to hide how mad he is at Ben or what, but there is something unsettling about the way he's looking at you.

“I don’t think you do.” It broke you to say it, to admit it out loud. “I’ve let you use me all these years, sacrificing my own happiness, my own success for you, because I loved you, but I don’t think you’ve ever once loved me. All you’ve done is look out for yourself.”

“That’s ridiculous-“

“When’s my birthday Darren?” You ask him, throat tight.

He freezes. “You're kidding right? You really think I don't know when your birthday is?"

"What have I been dreaming of doing since I was ten years old?"

"Sissy-"

"Your birthday is June 12th." You reply without stuttering. "Since you were thirteen years old your dream has been to own a blue 1970 Chevelle with black racing stripes. But you can never seem to scrape together enough money to get one."

Darren visibly pauses with your answer.

"I pay attention to everything you tell me Darren. I remember everything because I love you. And if you loved me, you would know those things about me. You would actually care enough to remember that I hate surprises, that I hate that insipid nickname, and since I was eight years old the only thing that I've been dreaming about is to open up my own farmer's market."

"You're kidding right?" Darren snorts. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"And that's exactly why I don't believe that you love me. Because if you did you would support me the way that I've supported you for years."

"I-"

"No. I have sacrificed so much for you and you have never once done anything for me! So I'm asking you to leave, because as much as I love you, I can't do this anymore." The tears were blurring your vision, but you were holding it together the best you could. Ben was now standing so close to you that his arm was almost touching yours and you feel his fingertips brush the back of your hand just for a second, as if he wants to hold your hand but he doesn't.

"But-" Darren gapes, mouth wide open.

"She told you to fucking scram Dipshit." Ben snarls his eyes narrowing at your brother.

You could tell that it was taking a lot of effort on Ben's part not to turn Darren into mush and it made you grateful that he was here. Because Ben was letting you handle it, but he was there for you if you needed him to be. It was the first time that you realized how much you needed him with you.

Darren stands there for a minute eyeing Ben and you, emotions running together across his face merging with one another, his eyes darkening. And then he does something you didn't expect.

Darren begins to laugh.

 Not just a little giggle or a snort, a deep throated rumble that shakes his body as he doubles over laughing so hard that he begins to wheeze.

"Oh sissy. I've been waiting for this for years. You have no idea." Darren continues to laugh, gasping for air and putting his hands on his thighs to hold himself steady.

What the hell is happening?

"What?" You ask tentatively. Even Ben is looking at him in surprise.

"Man. I've been wondering for years how long it would take you to finally grow a fucking backbone, but wow. I never thought it would be now." He starts to slow clap. "I'm impressed."

"What are you talking about?"

The glint in his eyes was back and Darren was smiling wide, so wide that you could see all his teeth. It reminded you of when Annie and you used to watch Crocodile Hunter on tv when you were kids and would huddle together watching Steve Irwin fearlessly handle them.

Darren's smile turns more into a smirk. "Kinda a good thing too, because I don't need you anymore, not with the way business is going. Honestly, I should thank your boyfriend. He solved a major problem for me."

"What problem?" Ben snarls.

"Elijah." Darren laughs out the name. "When I found out that you were Soldier Boy and saw how friendly you were with my sister at that ridiculous fundraiser. I knew that you'd come save her and kill Elijah. Poisoning his plants and letting it slip at that my sister just happened to be a plant supe at a poker game was the only way that I could get her involved and Elijah jumped at the chance.

He was at the fundraiser? When was he at the fundraiser?

"Why would you do that?" You ask in surprise.

What in the actual fuck is going on? He planned for Elijah to take me? He purposely poisoned the plants?

You were seeing a different side of Darren. Growing up he'd always had a temper, but Darren was never conniving or cunning. He never planned ahead more than an hour. It was always you that had to remind him to do things and you that begged him to at least think ahead for the entire week.

He's not some criminal mastermind. The guy doesn't believe that pickles used to be cucumbers for fucks sake.

"He was bad for business, he was already encroaching on my territory with the weed and then he said he was going to expand into cars and I couldn't have that. So." Your brother shrugs.

"But I don't understand why?"

Ben looks just as confused as you do, but the anger has not vanished from his eyes. You realize that Ben is waiting for you to say the word for him to start in on Darren. And it made you feel grateful again that he was here with you.

"Oh sissy you're still so innocent. I almost feel bad for you, not really. But" Darren flashes another brilliant smile that doesn't seem to fit the conversation the three of you are having. "I guess I should thank you. I would have never been able to build an empire without you."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Ben spits.

He was getting tired of Darren's monologuing and frankly so were you. An odd feeling prickled against your skin, splattering and splashing like oil in a skillet and the plants in the shop behind you pressed themselves against the windows as if trying to warn you. There was something wrong about this whole situation, something that you knew that you were missing, but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

"And to think I was so upset when you survived that night." Darren looks disappointed, but he chuckles. "Of course my aim now is a little bit better than it was then." His eyes pulse a dangerous electric blue and an unnatural hum fills the air. "I've had the practice."

He's a supe? How long has he been a-

The thought stutters to a halt when you realize what he said.

"Your aim? What do you-"

The words are barely out of your mouth, when the cold shock of what he's talking about hits you like you'd been dunked into a bucket of cold water. The memory of the night your parents died comes crashing over you in a wave and you're transported into the backseat of the car. The supple leather beneath your fingertips, the chill of the air conditioning, the melding of your parent's voices to "Nights In White Satin," the patter of rain against the metal roof that streaked across the glass windows, and the sticky remnants of chocolate ice cream on your cheeks. The unnatural flash of white light illuminates the interior of the car, the light that seemed to crackle and pulse across the space in front of the vehicle and seemed to come from in front of the car and not above the way the cops said it had.

The same flash of light that everyone said was lightning, but now you knew better.

You remembered it all, the hum of electricity in the air as the bolt hit the car and your dad jerking the wheel and sending the car over the bridge, and the sound of your mother's scream ringing in your ears just before the jolt of the car hitting the water and everything went black.

"No." You whisper taking a step back from your brother. "It was you?"

Horror and shock clamps down around your throat making it difficult to breathe.

Why would he do something like that? They were our parents. Why would he want to kill the two people who loved him as unconditionally as they loved me?

You didn't have one unhappy memory from the childhood you spent with your parents. The house was always warm, filled with the smell of baked goods, and the love your parents had for one another and for Darren and you. Every day was fused with wonder and excitement, and the weekends were filled with surprise trips to places that you’d never been before. They cared so much for the two of you, sacrificing the big things in their lives so they could be around Darren and you.

Darren wasn't with us in the car, he said he had homework and that he couldn't come with us to my recital.

Darren smiles wider, proud that you figured it out. "I was worried that you saw me standing on the road that night in the rain. That's why I left for a few days after the accident, but when I showed up again  and you were so happy to see me, I saw my chance. You didn't know that it was me and there wasn't a need for me to stay gone."

"But why? Why would you do that?"

Darren's expression turns murderous. "Do you have any idea what it was like being second best to you my whole life?" Electricity jumps from his fingertips, flashing a dangerous blue and crackling in the air. "What it was like to be your brother?"

Holy fuck he's the electric supe. And the empire that Elijah was encroaching on was his chop shop.

The thought blazes through you and you remember what Elijah said about "expanding into automotives."

Of course Darren needed us to take Elijah out. Elijah had money and had the means to destroy Darren, but without the competition then…

You blink to bring your thoughts back together, realizing what your brother just said to you. “What are you talking about? You were never second best-"

"Yes I was!" He seethes. "You’ve always been the special one. The supe, the favorite, the golden child. I could never touch you! You're the one that mom and dad were so proud of.”

Darren takes a step forward and Ben mirrors the move, shifting his body in front of you to protect you from Darren, but Darren doesn't take his eyes off you. His face is contorted in hate, anger flaring white hot in his eyes that still glow an unnatural and dangerous bright blue. The air is full of the energy, popping and crackling along Darren's skin with every pulse of electricity.

"Darren-" You begin to say, but he interrupts.

"No." He snarls. "I'm talking now. You can't shut me up. Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this? They put you on a fucking pedestal for years. You were the one with all the toys all the talent. You're the one that they gave the Compound V to. I had to scavenge and scrape together enough money to bribe a friend of mine to swipe some from his mother's hospital."

So that's how he got it.

Anger, rage, heart break, and shock were fighting in your chest for dominance. You could feel the burn of tears in your eyes understanding that the brother you thought that you'd loved for all these years was also the man who murdered your parents in cold blood.

He tried to kill you too.

The thought was everywhere, ricocheting around in your head, the truth that Darren hid for years finally coming out.

"I was made for more. You. You're nothing." Darren spits. "You're a disappointment. Mom and dad gave you the powers and all you do is sit in a fucking plant shop all day long. What about me? I can fucking fly! I can fry someone from thirty fucking feet away! I amounted to something. All you do is make the fucking flowers bloom."

You'd heard the insult before on the lips of the men Elijah employed, the men who underestimated you. You'd heard it before in the tone of voice your brother had when he spoke to you the other night when he came to crash in your apartment and took your bed.

The energy in the air was reaching a dangerous peak and you could still feel it scraping against your skin. The plants in the shop behind you are pressed tight against the window and you have no idea where Jake is, only that you hope he's far away from whatever is about to happen.

Anger pulses hard and fast in your chest, sending a bitter taste into your mouth.  "Oh you amounted to something? You didn't amount to anything! You’re still just a sack of shit that’s I’ve been dragging around. And I can't believe that I let you do it to me for years! You don’t care about me you don’t love me-"

"Of course I fucking don’t! I never have!"

"And then you killed the two people who loved you unconditionally-"

"They didn't fucking love me!" Darren snarls. "The only thing they loved was you. A pathetic little bitch who should have just keeled over and died like a good girl."

Ben's hand comes out and grabs Darren by the front of his jacket hauling him up into the air. "Don't you fucking speak to her that way." His voice is no more than a growl, rumbling low in his chest, his own eyes flashing a deep green, darker than you'd ever seen before. His skin has taken on a golden glow, coming through the dark t-shirt and pair of jeans he was wearing and the smell of ozone fills the air around the three of you.

"What are you going to do Benny?" Darren's body is glowing a blue beneath his outfit. "Show me that famous Soldier Boy temper? Fuck, you're just as pathetic as she is, nothing more than a washed up-"

Ben isn't holding on to Darren anymore, Darren's body is flying back into the street with the force of Ben's throw, but it doesn't strike ground, it gets hit mid-air by a passing bright red minivan. Darren's body flips backwards over the top of the car and lands in the street in a broken heap.

You're still frozen on the sidewalk as Ben sails in to beat down Darren's body where it lies, but there's an awful flash of bright blue light and an SUV that was parked on the street goes flying into Ben, propelling both of them into the bakery next door to the plant shop. The loud crashing of glass and brick with the force of the hit rings in your ears.

"Ben!" You shout, but he's no where in sight.

Darren stands from the ground, one of his arms hanging limply at his side and there's a bloody gash on his forehead that drips blood down into his eye, but and when Darren smiles, blood smears the inside of his usually white teeth.

"Goodbye sissy."

You don't have time to react. The bolt of lightning catches you in the center of the chest and throws you backwards into the plant shop. There's a terrible feeling of weightlessness, before your body hits the glass windows and slams into the flowering plant display that Jake had been working on when Darren showed up.

You land on your back hard, head hitting the concrete with a sickening crack that you feel vibrate through your entire body. Pain is everywhere. There's glass imbedded in your back, the cast on your arm is cracked open, your leg is burning and you're afraid to look down to see what you'll find. You can taste blood in your mouth and feel something sticky underneath your head that you're sure is the same.

You stare up at the florescent lights of the shop for a moment, the revelation of everything your brother had done beginning to finally sink in.

He killed our parents, he tried to kill me.

Tears burn and fall down your cheeks with the thought. Emotions swirling in your chest too fast to name.

I spent years taking care of him, letting him berate me, manipulate me, use me for whatever he needed and not once did he love me. I was so stupid. How could I have been so stupid?

The plants were circling around you, calling out to you, brushing against your broken body as you continued to lay there staring up at the ceiling. Black was starting to close in on the edge of your vision, making everything go a little bit fuzzy, but your mind was awake.

He killed our parents, he tried to kill me.

You think again, but you still can't move. You feel the trailing vines of the plants touching your legs, wrapping over them, laying down over your chest, and creeping up towards your broken arm and your face. They were whispering to you, asking your permission, begging you to let them free.

He killed our parents, he tried to kill me, and he tried to kill Ben.

And with that thought, you feel the rage begin to take over, burning hot and beating against your rib cage like a drum.

The plants around you begin to glow a vivid green, binding around your limbs, their strength flooding into your body as you call them forth to help you. The healing energy wrapping you in a cocoon of energy and life, taking away your pain. Pieces of glass fall from your skin, your bones knit back together, your skin closes and the scars left behind disappear as if they never happened.

You rise from the ground, the plants that wrapped around you no more than blackened tendrils of what they used to be, crunching underfoot as you make your way towards the front of the shop. You could feel the energy thrumming through your veins, the wounds you had were gone, the exhaustion and fatigue washed away by the plants that gave what life they had to make you whole.

You'd only ever given life to things that needed you, you'd never once considered that you could take it away.

Darren is still standing in the street, looking proud of himself, but when he sees you reappear in the broken window his smile falters.

"Guess you can take a hit." Darren shrugs. "I'm a little impressed-"

"Our entire lives you’ve never appreciated me. All I did all was listen to you, do everything I could to love and support you. I did whatever you asked without question. I spent so much of my own money, sacrificing little things in my life, doing ridiculous jobs to make a little bit extra, because I thought I was helping you.”

“You did.” Darren sneers. “I never had to work-“

“I’m not finished.” You snap. “I have given so much of myself to you and all it did was enable you. Annie was right and our grandmother was right. You are a leech. All you do is take and take until there's nothing left, and you don't care who you hurt."

"Look who's finally seeing the bigger picture!"

"I am." Your heart was running a mile a minute and you could still feel the remnants of power from the plants thrumming in your veins. "You're a parasite and Ben was right, I was too stupid to see it, too conditioned to believe that you cared about me. But you don't, the only person you care about is yourself." Your voice trembles just a little bit as you say those words, but you knew it was true. "I'm sorry that you spent your entire life believing that our parents didn't love you, I'm sorry that I wasted so much of my own money and time taking care of you, and I'm sorry that after all this time there's still apart of me that wants to forgive you even though you don't deserve it."

"Oh no sissy did I hurt your feelings?" Darren puffs out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. "What are you gonna do? Throw a spinach puff at me?" He cackles. "You're so pathetic. You really think that Mr. American Dream and you can beat me? Please." Bluish white arcs of energy illuminate the air around him, catching in the long shadows, emanating out from his body. His skin has gone an even paler shade of white, his veins a dark blue beneath. "In Greek mythology Zeus is the king of the gods. And all the others bow to him." He raises a hand and the electricity dances across his palm. "Have you come to bow?"

“No, because you were wrong about one thing.” You feel your eyes shift to bright green with your words, the plants in the store behind you screaming for blood, writhing together in a tangled mass in the depths of the shop.

"And what’s that sissy?” Darren snorts.

“Ben didn’t kill Elijah. I did.” 

The building that housed "Please Don't Die" explodes behind you raining brick, mortar, and rubble on the street around where you stand. The creature that crawls forward on broken limbs and tangled roots from the remnants of the store is the size of a city bus. It looks like a large lizard, the claws easily the size of your forearm, it's head the size of a washing machine, and the body rippling with muscle woven from stems, leaves, and vines to claw it's way from the rubble on four legs.

Darren stares up at it in shock, confused at it's sudden appearance.

It opens it's mouth, revealing a mouth full of broken sticks fashioned into points, and lets loose a roar that shakes the parked cars that line the street. You could feel your body intertwined with it, the creature an extension of yourself, the rage, anger, and frustration you felt pouring through the veins of the behemoth that towered over the empty street.

This has never happened before, but it felt right. As if everything inside of you had been building from this, since the moment you used your power to kill Elijah your powers had felt different, amplified. And now standing in the street with the creature at your command it feels cosmically correct. There's a switch inside that flipped the right way and for the first time in your life, you feel powerful.

Darren tries to blast you backward again, but the lizard is faster than he expected it to be absorbing the bolt of electricity. It plows head first into Darren, knocking him back into the pavement. He lets out a yell of surprise, the sound of his head hitting the pavement echoing down the street.

You could feel your body thrumming with power, electrifying your veins, exploding from every nerve ending, and charging through skin and sinew to recreate you into something that you never knew existed and never knew you could be.

The creature's clawed hand is on Darren's chest, flattening him down into the street, and he struggles beneath it electricity crackling in the air. The lizard stares down at him with unblinking eyes, not reacting to the arcs of bluish-white light that pulse from Darren's hands.

It looks over it's massive shoulder at you, the plants that formed it’s body asking your permission, bending to your will, opening it's mouth to click in a broken language that only you understand. You can hear the little whispers of the leaves against your ears and feel the roots and vines that knotted together to form the behemoth that takes up most of the street.

"Sissy-" Darren begins to say, his eyes wide. You could see him mentally calculating his mistake, his misinterpretation of what you were capable of, and see him trying to switch tactics to save his own skin.

But you don’t want to hear any of it anymore. You didn't want to waste another second of your life listening to anything he said.

"I'm your brother." He wheezes the clawed hand heavy on his chest, pushing him down into the pavement. 

"I don’t have a brother." Your voice is cold and emotionless. "All you are is the asshole who killed my parents and used me in every way he could. And you're never going to use ever again.  Goodbye Darren."

"Wait-"

The creature's jaws fasten onto Darren's head and his last words are cut off in the rip of teeth and crunch of bone.

You stand there watching the lizard tear at his body, gazing at the bloody mangled mass that was your brother and your creation that crouches above him. Blood drips from it's bloody maw onto the pavement, staining the street red and it looks at you as if waiting for your next command, but you can't move.

"Petals?" You hear Ben say from somewhere to your left, but you don't acknowledge him. "Are you okay?"

The rush you felt from the plants is gone, the green fading from your eyes, and the sound of Darren's final gasp still vibrating against your ears. The energy is slowly ebbing from your body and you're scared by what's left behind, because that meant that everything was about to come crashing back down on you.

The creature turns and moves closer to you, pressing it's giant head against your torso as if trying to comfort you. And you raise a hand to rub the top of it’s head you can't stop staring at the body, not quite comprehending everything that has happened in the past fifteen minutes.

Darren killed my parents, he deserved this, he tried to kill me, he tried to-

There were tears in your eyes, bubbling over, as you exhale a gasp and a bone shaking sob. Everything was crashing down over you quickly and you sink to your knees.

The creature seems to follow you down, growing smaller and smaller until it's no more than the size of your hand, and clings to your jean's pocket.

Darren's body is unrecognizable, lying in pieces, and scattered over the street. People were running and screaming in terror, but you couldn't hear them. You knew that the police would be coming quickly and you didn’t know how the fuck you were going to explain any of this. Not the giant lizard, not the destruction of the building behind you, and especially not explain any of this to Jake who you hoped wasn't hurt or worse.

You feel Ben's hand come down on your shoulder. "Petals look at me, come on."

"He killed them." You murmur, the memories of your parents flashing through your mind, all of them happy and in love. "He killed them because he thought they loved me more. It's all my fault."  The memory of the nightmare grates across your skin sending a shudder through your body.

"Petals." Ben turns your face to look at him. His eyes are still filled with the force of his rage, but they are softer now, looking at you with an unreadable emotion that you'd only seen in the hospital when you woke up and Ben sat with you. His hand gently traces the curve of your cheek. "That was not your fault. Everything he did wasn't your fault. He was fucked in the head. He-"

"I can't do this." You swallow, pulling yourself from Ben and standing up on shaky legs.

"What?"

"I've got to get out of here." Your feet stumble slightly on the cracked pavement, and Ben catches your now unbroken arm to stabilize you, but also to stop you from leaving

"Let me make sure that you're okay first-"

"I'm not!" Your voice breaks. "None of what happened is okay. I'm not okay Ben I-" The sobs were coming closer together now, everything coming down hard and making it difficult to breathe. "I can't breathe. I-"

"Hey. Shhh-" Ben tries to step closer to you.

"No Ben." You shake your head, tugging your arm to tell him to let you go, but he doesn't. The tears fall faster, soaking through your bloody shirt.

Emotions were pummeling you, overwhelming you, and were making it difficult to speak and to think. The only thought you had was that you had to get the hell out of here, that you couldn't look at what used to be Darren anymore, and that you couldn't look at what used to be the shop you loved so much.

"Just wait a damn minute-" He says more forcefully, tightening his grip.

"No. Let me go."

"Petals-" He's saying it in the soft concerned way that he did whenever it was the two of you, but you couldn’t listen to it. All you could feel was the jumble of emotions in your head and the events of today beginning to press down over you. Darren's confessions and his death were crushing you into oblivion.

"Let me go Ben." You shout again, through a sob.

"I don't want to. Let me help damnit!"

"No, please." You shout, tears streaking down your face as he finally lets you go. "I need to be alone. I need to-" You gasp. "I need to go home."

The darkness was closing in quickly and you didn't know what to do. The tide was overwhelming, pulling you under with every passing second.

"Then let me take you home."

"No." You shake your head. "I have to go home." You say it again for him to understand what you mean. "I can't be here right now with this. With any of this I-"

"Please-" Ben's voice is thick and it's the first time you've ever heard him sound that way.

"No, I have to go."

And you run, leaving the body of your brother and everything you know behind, while Ben watches you go with a twinge in his own chest that he can't understand.

A/N: Lots happened in this chapter. I know the revelations and the twists were WILD. But it finally happened, Darren got what he deserved. I know we don't see too much of Ben and the reader, but in the next chapter things between them are about to become less blurry. And we get a re-appearance of Granny Di in the next chapter!

As always, thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, Comments, and Likes are not required, but are always appreciated. I love hearing what y'all think! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this series please let me know! :)

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[fangedhorizon]

I absolutely love the idea that Claudia’s actress change between s1 and s2 is also because of Louis as an unreliable narrator. While yes, it can be said that it was due to Bailey Bass going to work for avatar, I think it also does wonders for the story.

Through the interview, Louis is beginning to piece his memories into a more full, coherent picture. He is losing some of the bias from emotion and inconsistency from memory as he relives his past. Therefore, the change of Claudia between seasons could still be relevant for the plot.

In the first season, Bass’ Claudia looks more like their child. Of course, interracial couples can have kids of all different shades (I am mixed myself), but it’s interesting to consider this Claudia as an unreliable construction within his memory. This Claudia, the one he reminisces during his ‘golden years’ before everything went downhill, looks like she could be their love child if biology allowed it.

As the fruit of the disaster that is them, the peeling band aid holding together a dying marriage, it wouldn’t surprise me that Louis remembers Claudia as looking like both him and Lestat. She is both the best and worst parts of them, sharing a mental connection with Louis (literally) and an emotional one from his coddling. Yet, she inherently acts like Lestat as well. Much to Claudia’s dissatisfaction, she cannot escape his likeliness, cannot help but think like him. She uses this to her advantage at the end of season one, but knows he will return because of Louis’ fragility.

After being turned while grieving Paul, all Louis knows how to do is love, and protect. But he cannot protect Claudia from her fate, which Lestat tries to tell him. By possibly envisioning her as a more traditional mix of the two of them, perhaps Louis is trying to offload some of the blame and guilt to Lestat, while simultaneously knowing subconsciously that he still played a major role in her doomed existence. Claudia is the byproduct of two broken hearts desperately trying to heal, which the dark gift does not allow.

It was never about her.

In the second season, she resembles him more as he comes to terms with his involvement in her death. Or, she has taken on a less biased appearance as Louis becomes less unreliable. Or, the memories are so vivid that no amount of self-preservation could alter her, leaving Louis’ guilt to construct her image. Perhaps he sees himself in her, or sees his family in her, sees Paul in her. He couldn’t save her, just like he couldn’t save Paul.

His nurturing nature within his retelling is thrown into question as he experiences neither her birth nor death, yet Lestat witnesses both. Louis is blinded by his pain, the ache left in his heart from his inability to protect, whilst Lestat must watch as the child he loved and detested (not in equal parts, I will die on the hill that Lestat loved Claudia in his own fucked up way, one that he learnt from Magnus’ torture) be birthed without her consent and die without her consent.

He must watch on as his fledgling achieves what he never could - true love. He must watch her sing, still serving a performative function in her last moments. She is nail glue for their dying relationship, then she’s a crowbar from a shitty marriage, she is a weapon to protect Louis from the world and himself, only to be a doll, positioned on stage as the crowd puppeteers her demise.

Claudia was never her true self in Louis’ retelling, nor will she be in Lestat’s. Even in death, Claudia only serves a function for storytelling, unable to give us her side of the story. But how could she?

It was never. about. her.

[enden-agolor]

i fucking LOVE the way you draw/write jesse, as someone with a chubby/buff build i kind of struggle with insecurities about my size but the way you draw him makes me feel very good. idk im describing it badly but i wanted to ask if your design for him is more chubby or muscly?

Dude thank you 🥺🩵 You described it very well.

It really depends on which time frame I'm drawing Jesse in actually.

In the beginning, I imagine Jesse is quite scrawny. I mean did you see his work out routine in the beginning? He was was doing sit ups and punching flowers. He was definitely lacking muscle (but had enough to be able to lift Reuben up and down that ladder) and as the first couple episodes progress, he stays scrawny but progressively becomes more scarred up until the Portal Hallway episodes.

The Portal Hallway episodes, it takes place many months after the events of the Witherstorm. Jesse and his friends are going on many more adventures, really honing their skills that they acquired over the past few months. Jesse is much more built now. He's buff and tough with the true heart of a hero. Although, once he and his friends get stuck in the Portal Hall, that's when things take a really devastating turn for him. Feeling hopeless and lost for weeks on end, he begins to feel withdrawn from the positivity he was feeling before he ended up stuck here. Traumatic events keep occuring, and with these events, Jesse is of course drawn to remember and replay the events of Reuben's death in his head. He keeps the most of these feelings to himself because his group is already feeling so disheartened about their current situation that the last thing he'd want for them is to know that he's breaking emotionally, so he ends up taking less care of himself. He starts eating with the idea that he has to stay strong for his friends, but even those moments are rare. Food is scarce depending on what portal they are in, so when he finds food, he'll take anything that will keep his energy and strengths up.

By the end of it all, he's actually put on a significant amount of muscle. But it's kind of like a 'at what cost?' scenario.

Things get a bit better for him between then and Season 2 where he's eating better again and keeping all that muscle, but once Season 2 comes and goes, and with everything that happens in the Sunshine Institute and the Underneath, he loses a lot of weight.

It's only after Season 2, where he stays in BeaconTown and eventually finds a love life with Lukas when he really begins putting on weight once again. He's done with hero work. He's done with going on crazy life threatening adventures. Now he just wants to live life for himself rather than putting others first. Lukas helps him a lot through this, with body positivity and lots of love and affectionate touch, it's all the reassurance Jesse has ever needed to feel okay with being himself again. So he ends up putting on that happy weight that couples typically adopt over time when they're in a healthy relationship. Lukas treats him so, so unbelievably well. Finally Jesse gets to eat food for himself without the idea of needing to keep himself strong and powerful once he's finally retired. He indulges himself in his sweet tooth and loves to eat cookies, cakes, and other baked goods that Lukas will bake or bring home. He also really enjoys the fact that he doesn't have to eat alone anymore. He loves sitting at the table and enjoying a meal with his hubby. And the best part, which is something Jesse was horribly self conscious about, is that Lukas loves and adores his pudge. He is so supportive of Jesse's eating habits, but he doesn't hesitate to sneak veggies and fruits into Jesse's lunch box for work.

So yeah uh Jesse is chubby, buff and loved at the end of it all 😍

Here's some lil doodles of him I have lying around. The first one is pretty old and could probably use a touch up since now I don't see much of a difference, but you get the point ☠️

[kitchenisking]

March Fic Rec

back to back recs cuz I wasn't paying attention to the weeks fly by😅

Obsession by Rae666 - (Rating: Mature, Words: 2,399, sterek)

Derek gets hit by a witch's curse and is confined to his loft as his uncle searches for a cure and Isaac stands guard. But as the curse grows worse and Derek's obsession with a certain pale skinned person becomes increasingly intense, how long can the team keep Derek and Stiles apart, especially when Stiles decides to take matters into his own hands?

The Wolf by rororowyourboat - (Rating: G, Words: 3,901, sterek)

Stiles and Derek haven't seen each other in years, but after talking on the phone nonstop for months now, Derek is finally moving back to Beacon Hills. The day he's supposed to arrive, he stops responding to Stiles' texts, and then a blue-eyed wolf shows up on his porch steps. Obviously something has happened to Derek, and Stiles needs to help him out... right?

Tease by katrint - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 4,852, sterek)

Stiles is used to Derek being all growly, claiming and rough when he gets jealous, but when something that usually would make Derek all the above happens, and Derek shows no interest in Stiles whatsoever, Stiles starts to worry.

Ulterior Motives by useyrwordsderek - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 11,082, sterek)

In which Stiles is warm for Derek’s form, Derek is repressed, and Erica is awesome. (Lydia is also awesome, but that goes without saying.) Author’s notes: Set after Season 2; mild spoilers for all of S1 and S2. Previously posted to LJ. My first Teen Wolf fic! Be gentle!

It feels like a perfect night (for breakfast at midnight) by princecharmingwinks - (Rating: G, Words: 1,068, sterek)

Stiles is floating on cloud nine. He is absolutely living his best life. It's a Saturday night, he's out with his friends and he's dancing like it's his birthday. Because it is! (Or it will be in 20 minutes, once midnight ticks around). And what better way to celebrate the respectful age of 22 than a night out?

The Hale Beast by secretfanboy - (Rating: Mature, Words: 17,707, sterek)

Stiles would rather be at home playing X-Box than attending the ceremony inaugurating the Wolf nation's sovereignty over the Argent kingdom, but he's the Sheriff's son so those are the breaks. What he doesn't expect is the feral werewolf Prince Derek AKA The Beast to take an interest in him.

He was alone with the Beast. His heart started pounding its way up into his throat. A burst of static came from his cell phone. "Scott! Oh my god! He's here! The Hale Beast is here with me and I'm alone and no one is here to witness when he kills me...to death!"

Treasure by Hedwig221b - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 71,231, sterek)

“I know you don’t trust me,” Derek grunted. When Stiles inhaled to retort, Derek caught his chin and pressed a finger against his lips, making the boy freeze in place, eyes impossibly wide. “Don’t argue. I expected it. Wolves don’t trust easily, too. I just wanted you to know that… I’m sorry. I was selfish and didn’t see what was in front of me. You don’t need to worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

It was a thought that grew in his mind, spread to his heart and took root there, reincorporating into a deep desire and a vital need. Derek will take care of him and his little pup, he’ll bring the hearts of his enemies and put them at the boy’s feet. He’ll court and he’ll conquer.

The Mending That You Need by torakowalski - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3,861, sterek)

“He’s not my boyfriend, Stiles. He’s a man from a club. I couldn’t call him, if I wanted to.”

Even Forbidden Fruits Get Picked by flitterflutterfly - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 18,658, sterek)

When Stiles’ best friend gets himself bitten by a rogue werewolf, Stiles convinces him to seek aide from the local pack. Stiles tags along, ready to help Scott despite the knowledge that he likely wouldn’t be welcome. After all, Doms rarely ever approved of Stiles and he thought the Hales would be no exception. So he was surprised to find that not only had the rogue seemed to develop some kind of creepy fascination with him, the young alpha wolf, Derek, seemed to want him as well.

Transformation by sffan - (Rating: T, Words: 1,885, sterek)

“Dude. You turned into a wolf. What the hell? When did that start being a thing?”

[thecapricunt1616]

Dragon Fruit (c.b. one-shot)

Blurb (More BTC!) : It wasn’t that Carmen wanted to have such a raunchy, probably downright perverted dream about using your mouth to keep himself warm while he does paperwork at The Bear. He chalked it up to the fact that his brain was a dark scary place, he didn’t know where these images of forcing your face down until there were tears leaking from your eyes and you were drooling down your chin as you gagged with your nose against his pelvis came from.

♡ One Shot Inspo: Based on ♡this♡ ask from a dear sweet anon, I hope you enjoy it! Dragon fruit, with its vibrant appearance and exotic flavor, holds a special place in ancient mythology across various cultures. In ancient Mayan mythology, dragon fruit was considered a sacred fruit symbolizing fertility and abundance. The fruit’s striking appearance, with its bright pink or red flesh speckled with tiny black seeds, was believed to represent the balance between life and death. ♡ Summary: You tell Carmy about your fantasies of being woken up by him while he uses you, he takes it upon himself to bring that to life. ♡ W/C: 1.5k+ ♡ A/N: WOW 2 one-shots in one day?! it's one of those days yall!! What can I say I am literally anxiety from inside out personified and I think there will be a rush of folks after today due to the new season so I wanted to clear out my inbox as much as I could, I hope you all enjoy this!!! I can't freaking wait for the new season tonight i'm literally writing to distract myself hahah ♡ Warnings for BTC: Smut, Somnophelia, Swearing, Dirty talk, Wet dreams, Ownership kink

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡ ➵ My 300 Follower Celebration Bingo!

It wasn’t that Carmen wanted to have such a raunchy, probably downright perverted dream about using your mouth to keep himself warm while he does paperwork at The Bear. He chalked it up to the fact that his brain was a dark scary place, he didn’t know where these images of forcing your face down until there were tears leaking from your eyes and you were drooling down your chin as you gagged with your nose against his pelvis came from. 

Well, he did. He did actually know where his dark perverted brain found the fantasy of using your body as a toy. You. You. It was your fucking fault. He never thought before that he would really enjoy something so… masochistic? He wasn’t sure if that was the word, but he knew it made him feel strange at first when you told him sometimes you wish instead of jacking off in the shower before work, that he used your body instead to get off. 

He chuckled and told you it was too early for you and he would feel bad waking you just to get off, and you told him again to just use your body to get himself off. He was dumbfounded for a moment, and asked “while you’re- like…when y’sleepin’?” And when you nodded, his eyes widened a bit. 

“I trust you, and I love you, and I always want to make you feel good. I don’t mind if you use me when I’m asleep… I actually think that’s really hot. I’ve had this dream where I woke up and you were inside me…or that I woke up and you were cumming on my face-“

“Christ babe y’cant…” he adjusts himself in his sweatpants and crossed his ankles over “y’cant say shit like that” he blushed a bit causing you to giggle

“What? Why not! It’s the truth. Remember when I told you I want you to own me? I was serious. That’s so sexy, I love belonging to you” you said and kissed his neck gently. He hummed in response, shrugging. 

“I’ll think about it” he said and went back to scrolling on his phone to avoid any more tenting in his pants. You could hardly fall asleep that night, this being- because when Carmy told you he’d think about something it meant he wasn’t ready to say yes yet, so you hoped that soon you would wake up to being painfully yet euphorically stretched from the lack of preparation, or to cum covering your lips and eyelashes. It actually made it hard to fall asleep, and Carmy already fell asleep, so it’s not like you could ask him for help. 

Instead of rectifying your issue, you just decided to continue pressing your thighs together until you were right on the edge, and then stopping, and working yourself right back up again, then stopping again, until you were so uncomfortably wet you had to allow yourself to cum, and then fell asleep in exhaustion with the hopes or dreams more like it that it would make it nice and easy for Carmy to slip his hard cock inside you come morning. 

It was as if the two of you were on the same horny wavelength - or there was something in the water? Because Carmy woke up the following morning impossibly hard after his dream. The clock read 3:22, great. 48 minutes until he was meant to be up, and his cock was achingly hard, so hard it was pulsing. The kind of ache that said he wasn’t hallucinating and he was on and off having intense vivid wet dreams all night long and had been cycling between hard and half hard all night long. 

He looked over to see you had tossed off your blanket in the night, figures - it’s hot as shit. He hadn’t even bothered with his, he just wore sweatpants to bed and he was fine with that. His eyes rake over your body, you were laid on your back, likely to keep cooler. You were wearing a tight cropped tank top that showed your peaked nipples, he swore at the sight he felt a bead of pre leak out of his tip. He looked down to see.. how fucking embarassing. He’d already cum tonight at least once, in his fucking sleep. There was a large milky white stain covering his tented cock in his sweatpants, standing tall and at attention, ready to go again. 

He shook his head a bit, sighing softly to himself and looking back over at you. His eyes continued trailing down, down, to your panties and woah. He leaned in, ever so carefully brushing his middle finger over your panties to gauge if they really did have a huge wet patch that went all the way up to your mound, and to his demise, in your sleep- still needy as ever attempt to grind into the touch, a soft, satisfied sigh leaving your lips at the found friction. 

He quickly moved his hand back, but remembered what you had said last night, the words bouncing around his skull like a broken record. 

‘I’ve had this dream where I woke up and you were inside me…or that I woke up and you were cumming on my face, I want you to own me’

He swallowed thickly, squeezing his eyes shut, telling himself it was wrong and that you couldn’t really know if you wanted that. But his pounding heartbeat felt like it was everywhere, and it was getting stronger in his cock. He had to do something. He thought about getting up and going to hide in the bathroom and jack off, but no - he figured that could offend you or make you more weirded out then if he was just jacking off. 

Then, he told himself in his mind how he was a man who paid bills in this house so if he wanted to play with his dick in his own bed then he absolutely could and there should be no consequence. But then he told himself that sounded assholish and was back at square one unsure of what to do. 

He knew he had to let his dick out of this cloth prison, though. The pressure was starting to actually hurt. He pulled down his waistbands just enough for his cock to spring out, and it did so in such an aggressive manor that there was a audible small slapping noise when it slapped his happy trail that Carmy didn’t even notice because he was too busy sighing in relief.

The thought of you saying you wanted to be fucked awake crossed his mind, so he figured you couldn’t get mad if he was just looking at you while he fisted his length. So that’s what he did, at first. He reached over to the bedside, pumping lube into his hand from the big bottle he kept on deck for the two of you, and got to work. 

He looked at that wet spot on your panties, wondering what had gotten you all worked up while you were asleep. He wondered if it was one of your dreams that you woke up to being filled with his cum, leaving you dripping the rest of the day. Maybe you were dreaming about him using your folds and your clit to get off, humping you in a spooning position while he whispers in your ear how fun your body is to use. 

He was quickly spiraling down this rabbit hole and not even noticing that he’d sat up, and was looking down at your peaceful sleeping form as he jerks his cock roughly over your stomach, grunts and breathy groans leaving his throat quietly as to not disturb you. He sat on his knees, knuckles brushing your stomach just barely as he fisted his length, breathing getting more ragged. 

You were drawn from sleep to see your beautiful boyfriend, head thrown back in euphoric bliss, veins in his neck popping out “well good morning to you too” you said sweetly and lifted your shirt a bit more so he’d spill straight on your skin. 

“Mm-fuck- morning- let me see y’tits” he rasped the order, slowing down his strokes as his cock stiffened to make sure he lasted a bit longer. 

“Of course” you eagerly took off your shirt, sitting back on your elbows “glad I could wake up to join the party” you spread your thighs, trailing one of your hands down to play with your clit 

“S’not a party- markin my property, remember? Move y’arm wanna cum on y’stomach” he brushed your hand away from playing with yourself which just got you all the more turned on by the way he was using you as you asked him to so many times before. You made sure you angled yourself so when he came just a few more pumps of his broad hand later, it coated your stomach and ribs in white creamy puddles. 

He groaned as he continued pumping his cock to milk out any last dribbles of cum, before dipping his middle finger in the biggest puddle and getting a scoop of the milky seed on his finger. You carefully watched as he drew ‘CB’ on your tit in the arousal, before getting up and heading to the bathroom for his morning shower like it was just any other Thursday morning. But not without ordering you- 

“Let that dry” 

[inkdrinkerworld]

just a little thought but casual dom!remmy who opens those tough jars or bottles for you when cooking/baking, casual dom!remmy who ties your shoes for you or helps you put on your heels 🫣 or casual dom!remmy who buttons up your coat and wraps you up in a cozy scarf when the seasons change 😫

You’re panicking as you realize you can’t find your leg warmers.

It’s crucial to your health, for the mere fact that it ensures that you don’t freeze to death when you go into work and that it always looks good with your brown corduroy overall dress and long sleeved cream sweater.

“Remmy,” you rush down the stairs, strides only slowing when Remus raises an eyebrow at you.

He’s in the kitchen wrapping your breakfast bagel up in parchment and getting your lunch from the fridge.

“What’s missing, dove?” Of course he already knows something is wrong.

You pout as you stand before him, frustrated to have misplaced a crucial part of your outfit.

“I can’t find my leg warmers! The white knitted one Lily gave me last autumn.” Your voice is a whine, a little bit of hopelessness leaking into it as Remus sets your bowl and wrapped breakfast into your lunch bag.

“I put them in the dryer while you went to shower. Go sit down and I’ll get them,” he kisses your forehead, begins to walk and then pauses. “Your coffee’s in your bag.”

Your chest and stomach fill with a fondness that’s sweet and sticky like honey. It makes you all gooey inside when you take your to-go cup out of your bag and smell the cinnamon-y coffee that only Remus can get right now.

You melt even more when he comes back with your leg warmers, fluffy socks and your doc martens.

“Alright dovey, sit still.” Remus’ touch is delicate as he slides the leg warmers up, then fits your socks and finally your shoes. He kinases both your knees before he stands again.

“Did you take your fruit from the fridge?” You ask him, leaning up to kiss his lips as he reaches for his scarf.

“I did, and I took my vitamins. Yours are beside your breakfast, please take them honey.”

You nod, taking Remus’ extended hand to help you stand.

“Ready?” He asks, and you nod gathering your bags before pausing. You look around the living room and frown.

Remus is already two steps ahead of you, “Ve’got your scarf and coat. I’ll put it in for you when we’re closer to work.”

[spiritseeeker]

This singular frame was all it took to undo my very extreme hatred of Adam, Vivienne Medrano how dare you make me feel sympathy for this man-

Like, Adam before this scene? A blatant misogynist and a hypocrite who unabashedly revels in sinners' suffering. A guy who has no regard for anyone else, and who pisses pretty much every viewer off with patronizing jabs like "sorry sweetie" and "try to chillax, babe." Ugh, disgusting.

As the first man, it seems like he got an easy pass into Heaven. Maybe the angels were just saving face, given that their core pair of humans both took the fruit of knowledge of good and evil willingly, ordaining Adam on the technicality that "Eve did it first." But I think we can all agree that it was not on the merit of Adam's virtue.

And then Charlie draws blood during their fight in Episode 8, and, for the first time, Adam genuinely realizes he can be hurt. Like, for the first time in the duration of the show, in his entire fucking existence, someone shows him that he is not, in fact, an all-powerful symbol of power and superiority. He's just a guy with privilege who is just as vulnerable, just as flawed, just as human as the rest of them.

But once the mask is shattered, revealing the rather unexceptional man underneath, does Adam back down? Of course not—he doubles down. There's nothing worse than a narcissist who is virtually incapable of seeing the error of their ways, even when they're clearly backed into a corner. Bruised and bloody, he bellows that he's THE man; everybody should worship him.

For me, that pretty much hit the nail in the coffin. There was no redeeming a character like Adam (ironic, since he's one of the few characters in the show not in need of redemption).

So isn't it fitting, then, that his death didn't happen in some grand display requiring all of Lucifer or Charlie's might? Isn't it fitting that Adam falls to Niffty—not Lucifer, not an overlord, but a common sinner, who sees him as nothing more than a foot soldier that needs to be eliminated, a pest as easily squashed as a roach? For someone as self-aggrandizing as Adam, this has to be one of the most humiliating ways to die. The perfect end for an insufferable antagonist.

But nooo, Vivziepop didn't end it there.

Because INSTEAD, we hear Lute's heart-wrenching screams as she realizes that Adam has just been defeated; we see the look on her tear-streaked face when it registers just how badly he's been injured. The fear in her eyes at the prospect of living in a world without the angel she idolizes, the man she serves.

She's not concerned that she's just lost her arm, or that Vaggie is standing right there. In that moment, the only person in Hell is Adam, and all she wants is for him to stay with her.

Adam could have easily dismissed her feelings entirely. He could have spent his last breath hurling one last insult at Lucifer, getting the satisfaction of having the last word before his death. He could have thrown himself a pity party and cursed his fate.

Instead, this greedy, selfish, murderous fiend has the audacity to see Lute in his field of vision and flash her one last, tender smile.

We don't know for sure what Adam was thinking in this shot, but personally, I think it was something along the lines of I lost. Proud of you, Lute. I'll miss you. Goodbye.

Whatever his final thoughts are, we can surmise from his expression alone that he's accepted his fate, and that he's grateful his last seconds alive are locking eyes with someone who's important to him. Someone he cares about.

And THAT—that was enough to crack through that thick shell of hatred I'd developed for Adam and shatter it like the mask he wore for seven and a half episodes of the show. THAT 8-second moment was enough to make me reconsider my stance on Adam as an irredeemable villain.

(CURSE YOU, VIVIENNE!!!)

Does this scene cancel out all the heinous things Adam does throughout Season 1? All the lives he destroys, all the pain he causes to thousands upon thousands of souls? Absolutely not. But it does change my perception of Adam from "obnoxious egomaniac with no self-awareness" to "obnoxious egomaniac with no self-awareness that is a product of the flawed system he perpetuates."

And, I gotta wonder, what would Adam have been like if Heaven had been different?

[baronessvonglitter]

The Haunting of David York

Dave York x ghost!reader

Word count: 2.6K

Summary: It's a typical Halloween night for Dave. The last thing he expects is for you to come back and get your revenge.

(Spoilers below the cut, so resume with caution)

WARNINGS: Rated M; Dead Dove Do Not Eat; mentions of wet work, murder, brief gore, threats of violence towards family, major character death (don't hit me)

Author's Note: this fic is for @mermaidgirl30 Jamie's Halloween Writing Challenge 👻 thank you for hosting this lovely fic challenge!

The idea for this started out as a random discussion about why we're afraid of ghosts if they can't really hurt anyone.. then I wanted to add our favorite suburban murder daddy to a ghost story and got some inspo from watching old school stuff like Creepshow and early seasons of AHS. (I haven't written horror in a very long time, so gimme a little break)

Shoutout to @yorksgirl for the Dave chit chats-- there will be a sweatpants scene in another fic, promise!

"Dave, not again!" Carol whines from the front steps.

"What?" he asks innocently, hefting the human-sized 'body bag' consisting of garbage bags stuffed with leaves and tied up with duct tape to fashion a corpse decoration in the yard for Halloween. Dave has been working on them all day. He's now up to seventeen.

"The HOA is going to complain," his wife shakes her head. "We got away with a warning last year. This time they'll definitely fine us."

"It's worth it to see the looks on everyone's faces," he insists. "Besides, I'll have them picked up and out of sight by the end of the night. I promise."

Dave doesn't love Halloween, but neither does he mind it. People dressing up to be anything other than themselves for one night only? Try doing that 24/7.

He doesn't get to parade around the Mr. Hyde aspect of his life. He doesn't get to knock on doors while in tactical gear, sniper rifle resting in one arm while he sticks an orange jack-o-lantern bucket out to get a handful of tooth-rotting sweets. He doesn't get to wake up on November first and pretend it was all for fun.

It's a silly holiday, but he likes scaring the shit out of the neighbors with the decorations. And his kids love planning their costumes months in advance. Alice is going as a zombie cheerleader (he never understands where these ideas come from) and Molly is some type of Pokemon Dave thinks is a squirrel but she insists is something called an Evoo or Evie or something completely asinine.

Carol usually insists on taking them out trick-or-treating, dressing up herself in a last-minute Minnie Mouse getup, a red sweater and black leggings, and a headband with sequined mouse ears to complete the look.

"You'll be okay here by yourself?" she asks, putting the finishing touches on her mouse whiskers and nose with liquid eye liner in the hall mirror as the girls wait impatiently to leave.

She asks that every year, as if something bad will happen on his watch, as if he can't hack it alone for a couple of hours.

"Unless Michael Myers or Pennywise show up, I'm pretty sure I'll be fine," he says, giving the girls a quick kiss before they go.

"What's Pennywise?" Alice asks as Carol herds them out the door, and she shoots her husband an annoyed glance.

There aren't as many trick-or-treaters this year, and Dave regrets that he'd bought so much candy. He dips his hand into the large tub of mini chocolate bars and fruit-flavored chews that stick to one's teeth and selects some Nerds, eating them straight from the tiny box. With barely concealed disgust he finds the candy corn, plucking the small packets of the hated sweets out from the bowl. He doesn't know how anyone can eat these. These can go to the next kids who ring the doorbell. When the next round of costumed kids come around he gives out huge handfuls. The less sweets they have in the house, the less sugar-fueled meltdowns he's likely to experience from his kiddos.

When there's more of a lull he relaxes on the sofa, mindlessly unwrapping a chocolate bar as the Halloween song hums from the TV, The Nightmare Before Christmas playing where the girls had left it on:

Boys and girls of every age wouldn't you like to see something strange? come with us and you will see this, our town of Halloween

He finds his glass of Macallan pairs nicely with a mini Hershey's Special Dark chocolate that he knows the little trick-or-treaters won't appreciate. The candy rests on his tongue as he savors the lingering taste of the scotch while the movie keeps playing. He absorbs a little of it, a now thirty-year-old film that came out when he was his kids' age. He watches idly, letting the scotch lull him into a nice semi-rest.

This is Halloween, this is Halloween pumpkins scream in the dead of night this is Halloween, everybody make a scene trick or treat, 'til the neighbors gonna die of fright

Enough of the singing. He changes the channel. There's postseason baseball on TV, but his favorite team isn't in the playoffs, and the announcers are annoying. Click. Of course there's a horror marathon on every channel. All the Scream movies, which he can appreciate for their ingenuity, Psycho, Shaun of the Dead, the entire Friday the 13th franchise even though it's Thursday, the 31st.

He flips channels, mindlessly, watching tidbits of each, digging into the leftover candy once again when he hears a thud.

With feline alertness he mutes the TV and sits up straight in one swift move. He zones in on where the sound came from, waiting, his racing heart the most audible sound in his ears.

Most people listen for a sound and relax when they don't hear it again, chalking it up to the house settling, or a rodent in the attic. But Dave knows better. He's been on the opposite side of this type of situation countless times. He doesn't relax and just chalk it up to mundane things like other people, because he knows there are guys like him out there-- becoming one with the shadows, as silent as possible--

It's coming from the back door.

In stealth mode, he grabs his gun from the safe in his study and quickly, skillfully, loads it. Adrenaline sings in his veins, carries him towards the danger. He flips on the light switch for the patio and the lights glare into the dark, lighting up nothing. His gun is still in his hand as he slowly opens the door, listening for footsteps.

Quiet.

A little disappointed that he's gotten riled up for no reason, he sighs as the rush of adrenaline dissipates and leaves him weak for a brief moment.

He keeps the gun in the holster at his side as he returns to the sofa, a little more on edge. It could be just teenage assholes playing pranks out of boredom, but he doesn't want to risk it.

He shuts the TV off and the silence becomes the largest thing in the room, even louder than his thoughts. He's taut as wire, not allowing himself to relax just yet. He's listening for more sounds. Most are explainable: a slow drip in the kitchen sink that Carol told him about just yesterday, the notification pings on his daughter's tablet that she left on the dining room table.

"Fuck!" he curses in surprise as the TV turns on, The Nightmare Before Christmas still playing where it left off:

I am the one hiding under your bed, teeth ground sharp and eyes glowing red I am the one hiding under your stairs fingers like snakes and spiders in my hair

Dave quickly snaps the TV off, removing the batteries from the remote.

It's just some electrical glitch he tells himself. And then the power goes out completely.

"Shit," he mutters, using his phone to light the way to locate the real flashlight. It's not in the cabinet beneath the kitchen sink where it's supposed to be left. Carol must have moved it. He checks the garage. Through the windows he can see the neighbors still have power, so he grabs the trusty flashlight and checks the breaker box. After fiddling with it, it won't reset. The flips do absolutely nothing.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, he pinches the bridge of his nose, taking out his phone from his pocket. The battery shows 1% before fizzling out to a black screen with the gray spinning wheel before dying.

"You've got to be shitting me," he grumbles. With another curse, he shoves the useless thing back in his pocket, letting the flashlight guide him out of the garage. He may as well get the keys and go try to find Carol and the girls, who are probably several blocks over by now, maybe get them to stay at her mother's place while he gets things sorted out with the power issue.

And then..

he hears the sound of his name spoken, a sharp. accusatory whisper, as if it's right next to him. It's so real he can feel the cold breath against his ear. It makes him jump out of his skin.

Alert, his body tense and ready for action, his eyes dart around the room as he begins to get his bearings back and his heart goes back to its normal rhythm.

Stupid.. he curses himself, sitting upright again. Annoyance colors his face.

But the sound of it.. of your voice still rings in his ear. And he'd know your voice among a thousand others.

Now he knows he's imagining things, because it couldn't have been your voice at all.

You're dead.

He doesn't want to think about that day, a cold autumn day just like this. In fact it'll be one year exactly on November 14th. The last day you saw sunlight, the last day you ever breathed.

It's not that you were bad, you were just in the way. There was no room for you in Dave's perfect, clock-precision life. He tried to make your end painless, make sure you didn't see it coming.

Some secrets don't stay buried forever..

Nobody knows he assures himself. It's impossible.. He'd even kept it from his teammates, and they knew nearly every damn thing about him.

No, this particular job.. the handling of you, had to be done on his own.

Casting a glance at the backyard patio again, the light from his neighbor's back porch glows eerily, spotlighting the patch of earth Dave had avoided until finally he'd caved and erected a bird bath with a small garden, a surprise for Carol's birthday. His wife never suspected that you were buried there, beneath her gift.

Without thinking, he's already walking outside, gun in one hand, flashlight in the other, leading the way to your grave. He never comes out here anymore. The guilt has become too crushing and he's not a man who dwells on guilt. He does what he has to and revisits the issue if problems arise.

You won't arise, though. When he closes his eyes he can still see the bullet hole in your temple, the blank look as the light left your eyes.

Forgive me, he'd thought, unable to speak it aloud as he stuffed your body in a bag and placed you in the dirt on a moonless autumn night.

When he reaches the stone path that leads to your innocent-looking grave marker, he has to process what he sees:

there's a hole in the ground, where some of the rocks and flowers around the bird bath have been upheaved, and in the breeze his flashlight shines on a tattered, empty black body bag. The scent of death greets his nostrils as he pales, trying not to vomit.

He goes back to the house, immediately on the defensive, irrationally expecting to find you there, clothes dirty and hair caked with mud and blood, a specter of his own paranoia and guilt.

It's still shrouded in darkness, the home that is supposed to be his shelter from such dark things as yourself. It's his domain, his castle, and in this trouble, without his family, he feels like less of a king.

"There's no fucking way," he mutters, stomach roiling with fear and suspicion. He opens the patio door and steps inside.

The whole place smells of death, of the grave.

You're in every corner, quiet, waiting, watching. But not impassive.

He feels you everywhere, himself made small by your ubiquitous pall. The gun in his hand feels useless, and this makes him angry.

You feed off his anger. You love it. It's the only thing you can feel anymore. Pure, unadulterated hate.

You slither towards him, wicked grin growing bigger as you approach him. Dave gets the chills down his back, not knowing just how close you are to him.

"Boo" you whisper lightly, ghostly breath caressing the shell of his ear.

Your cackling thunders in his ears as he whips around, eyes wide with fright. You delight in the fear he's giving off. The scent of it it so intoxicating. It's the only good thing about being dead.

"I should make your death as nice and quick and clean as you made mine" your voice echoes all around the room. Dave looks equal parts pissed and afraid as he tries to track you.

"But I won't."

You've been waiting for this night, this one unholy night where you'd be allowed to come back, to gather the unearthly powers granted to you. Halloween: the one night of the year when the living come back to haunt the dead.

And the son of a bitch had the gall to kill you in November. You had to wait almost a whole year for your revenge.

Gonna make it sweet.

It takes a lot of energy to assume something of a human form, but as you grab onto the fear he's giving off, as you use the most ancient of forces to pull your corporeal parts together, it gets easier. You don't feel afraid. You haven't, not since he killed you.

"Consider yourself lucky it's only you I'm after. If I had my way your family's blood would be splattered on these walls along with yours."

Dave shivers violently. "Please, don't!" He's not used to begging or pleading. He's actually on his knees. He tries not to look at you; your visage is too grotesque. Your flesh is falling off your face and your eyes are sunken into your head, giving a ghoulish appearance.

You force his gaze upon you with the ice-cold touch of your hand. "Your family is safe. For now. Hell, there's always next Halloween."

With the cracking open of his ribcage and the spilling of his guts you reach into him, finding the fullness of the heart, the organ he uses the least.

All Dave can do is scream and scream and scream.

The next day Carol sits at the dining room table, two detectives with her. Her coffee has grown cold, barely touched. She still bears the remnants of the makeup she'd put on to complete her costume last night. The girls are upstairs. She couldn't bear sending them to school, having them apart from her. Not while Dave is missing.

"He was fine last night. Normal," she adds, shrugging as she dabs at her eyes with a Kleenex.

Because of his position as a government agent, his disappearance is being taken very seriously. Officers are en route, dispatched to start searching the area, especially the nearby woods, which Carol has always feared.

Dave's gun is there, his wallet, phone, and keys also left behind.

One of the field officers comes in (there have been many people coming in and out of the house today) and motions to the backyard. "Halloween decoration?"

"Yeah," Carol sniffles, smiling just a little. "Dave likes to shock the neighbors. He promised he'd put them away before the morning.. but he never puts them out back.."

Out of guilt, or maybe just to give herself something to do, she gets up and goes to put the decorations away. The detectives follow.

Funny. There's just one.. she thinks, looking at the lone body bag on the lawn, tossed haphazardly next to her bird bath.

It's heavier than she expects. She's too petite to pick it up. Sighing, she kneels, the crunch of the fallen leaves beneath her knees. She'll just take the leaves out and throw the bag away.

Ripping it open with her nails she's stunned a moment, not processing what she's seeing before she lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

Wrapped up in the duct taped body bag is what's left of Dave.

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

tagging @almostempty @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milla-frenchy @salingers @zascal

[roxi-chan]

Me: feel like watching Fruits Basket again, but I can't deal with the angst rn, so I'll just watch season 1.

My brain: Kyo knew since the beginning who Tohru was, and when he meets her, he has just come back from four months of grieving her mother's death and blaming himself for it.

OK, I'll watch something else.

[dangermousie]

2023 End of Year Post - kdrama edition

Yes, we have a some of December left, and I want to check out Death's Game but whatever. I got time for this now and not sure if I will have later so here goes.

This is only going to cover kdramas that aired in 2023; if I watched it but it was made in a different year, it’s not on the list. This was an excellent kdrama year, the likes of which we hadn't had in a long time.

DRAMAS WATCHED

In order of liking from least to most as opposed to pure quality so pls don't come for me, fans of some popular dramas that are on my nope list. Also, I am including if I’ve seen enough to make up my mind; yes I realize that’s inaccurate, but that’s my list.

33. The Escape of the Seven - this is so aggressively stupid and mean that it feels like the makers are playing a practical joke seeing how much their audience will take. This has a season 2 coming, so the answer is a lot.

32. Behind Your Touch - the FL gets superpowers by touching people's and animals' butts. Yes, you read this right. Do I really need to add anything?

31. King the Land - yes, it was a hit. Yes, it stars popular actors. I HATED IT LIKE IT TOUCHED MY BUTT TO GET SUPERPOWERS!!! Plastic people in paint by the numbers story, with about as much genuineness or retability as a barbie aisle in walmart. I never expect much from Yoona so whatever, but to have LJH go from The Red Sleeve to this boggles the mind.

30. Mrs Durian - this is so dumb that I think I lost a few IQ points watching this, but its insanity becomes entertaining - I mean what kdrama can you name where a daughter in law declares her love and lust for her mother in law at a family dinner?

29. The Matchmakers - there is nothing offensive about this drama at all. But there is nothing in the least interesting either. If elevator music took drama shape, it would be this show.

28. Destined with You - sorry, Rowoon, I am still fond of you, but you are two for two in drama duds department this year. This is a drama where I loved ep 1, liked ep 2, was indifferent to 3 and...you get the point. Each ep was worse than the one before, and I bailed before I was dragged into a cosmic singularity.

27. Oasis - great first two episodes. Unfortunately it was not a two ep show. The performances are solid but the story is just not there - the effect is like a fancy chef making an amazing sauce to put on pig slop.

26. Boyhood - it's not you, it's me in action. I can see why people would like it but a 34-year old playing a high schooler in a Weak Hero Class 1 Slapstick Edition is no go for me.

25. Castaway Diva - it's so precious and kooky in the most annoying ways, with the most well-adjusted abused castaway in history. I like magic realism when done by Jorge Amado, but this ain't Amado.

24. Island - it had a good concept, good cast and fun visuals but the execution deserved one of ML's swords through the neck.

23. The Worst of Evil - if I wanted an American show, I'd watch one. Very solid performances though.

22. Song of the Bandits - period edition of what I said about The Worst of Evil.

21. Welcome to Samdalri - and goodbye to any hope of emotional involvement.

20. Joseon Attorney - I have yet to like a single sageuk centered around a profession and this was not an exception. I guess it could be worse but it also could have been so much better.

19. Twinkling Watermelon - everyone loved this drama. Everyone except for me. It's the kind of precious that sets my teeth on edge and I couldn't stand half the main characters we were supposed to root for. I guess I like my fruits to shine steadily.

18. Our Blooming Youth - probably the biggest disappointment on this list. This is not a bad drama by any means, but with that cast and that story (I loved the novel), I was hoping for a memorable sageuk not merely all right.

17. Vigilante - it has the emotional complexity and nuance of a punch to the throat but it gives us quasi-gay openly-murderous dudes going after psychos and Yoo Ji Tae holding feral Nam Joo Hyuk by his hoodie at his feet.

16. The Forbidden Marriage - expected nothing but it was a surprisingly enjoyable trifle of a costume drama that was also quite pretty.

15. Arthdal Chronicles: Sword of Aramun - a hot mess but such an entertaining epic one. And it gave us TWO Lee Jun Kis in period gear and who am I to cavil at the bounty of God?

14. The Story of Park's Marriage - it's a trifle, a souffle, so light it might blow away, but it keeps my attention and is so fun and sweet.

13. My Lovely Liar - a huge surprise, that manages to mix a murder mystery and a romcom, and shocked me by showing Hwang Minhyun can act.

12. Tale of the Nine Tailed 1938 - the original ToNT was my fave drama of its year and I did not think it needed a sequel. But this is not a sequel but more of a side-quel and is such a total delight with brotherly love, adventures, romance and hijinks. It's a joy.

11. Perfect Marriage Revenge - it's actually very hard to do a soap right but this slim 12 ep drama managed. So fun, so crazy, such a good ship!

10. My Lovely Boxer - not really about sports, but about two broken people finding salvation because of and in each other. Also, if you like age gap romances, this is delicious. Sort of loses steam by the end but c’est la vie.

9. The Secret Romantic Guesthouse - this was a sageuk that was not on my radar with a bunch of actors I was not familiar with but it took my heart away. A good plot that was perfectly paced, characters and ships I adored, a logical ending. This is one of the biggest positive surprises of the year for me.

8. Tell Me That You Love Me - a slice of life remake (sort of, it's more "inspired by") of my favorite jdrama of all time. It's not as good as the jdrama because nothing could be, but it's an aching lovely story with some incredible performances.

7. See You In My 19th Life - funny and romantic and haunting and hopeful and odd. This was one of my favorites of the year.

6. Alchemy of Souls: Light and Shadow - it's rare for me to like a (1) sequel (2) with FL actress change (3) that is a Hong Sisters drama. But this was such a gorgeous, surprisingly achy story of love and loss and love regained with some cool monster fighting in the middle. Between the two seasons, this is the first Hong Sisters' drama I enjoyed from beginning to end in well over a decade.

5. My Demon - so tropey (chaebols, supernaturals) but it proves that these tropes are popular for a reason. The chemistry is fire, the story is unpredictable and the whole thing is an addictive delight. A rare drama where I like each new ep more than the last one.

4. Goryeo Khitan War - an old school sageuk in every meaning of the term (no romance, no eye candy, lots of bearded men, battles and politics), this feels like watching an epic movie more than a drama. The vast cast all earns their place and the performances (mainly from character actors given a chance to shine) are incredible.

3. Call It Love - two very very damaged people finding love and healing with each other. This is a narrative very hard to do to my satisfaction but when it's done well, as here, there are few things that can hold a candle to it.

2. My Dearest - a masterpiece of cinematography, narrative, performances. This is an old-school epic romance in the best sense of the term. If it doesn't make you swoon or break your heart, there is something wrong with you. A story of two untraditional, strong-willed, flawed people who fall in love in the middle of the horrifying Qing invasion of Korea and have to deal with all that the world throws at them, this is a bona fide masterpiece.

1 - Moon in the Day - who knew my favorite kdrama of the year will star a store brand Domyoji from Extraordinary You and an actress I was never familiar with. But this part period/part modern fantasy tale of doomed cursed lovers is everything I knew I wanted and everything I didn't know I wanted but did. Two lovers where their love did not save them and in modern day it might not again, has got me obsessed the way I haven't been in years.

FAVORITE DRAMA

Moon in the Day - if there is such a thing as a drama made perfectly for me, this gorgeous, emotionally haunting, utterly romantic, twisty tale is it.

WORST DRAMA

The Escape of the Seven. This drama is proof that demons exist and not sexy ones like Song Kang but horrible nasty ones who delight in the torment this hot mess inflicted on its viewers.

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER

Do Ha, Moon in the Day - a Silla general and a consummate killer who committed atrocities on the orders of his monster father and yearned to die for them, who found the meaning in life in loving his enemy but it did not make him better, a man so obsessed he literally was around for 1500 years of horrifying ghostly existence and still went "worth it" for a woman who killed him as long as he knew she loved him while she did it. He's intense and competent and beyond fucked up and has never had a normal day and I love him so so so very much from a safe distance.

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER

Gil Chae, My Dearest - she starts out as vain and spoiled but the horrors that break so many others bring out all her fierce survivor potential and she becomes such a force of nature - capable of incredible love but also sacrifice and strength and compassion.

Runner Up: Shin Hye Sun's reincarnator in See You In My 19th Life - quirky, damaged, strong, so odd and so vulnerable at once.

NEEDS TO BE MURDERED

There are a lot of characters who fit that category (King Injo in My Dearest? My God) but the crown belongs to So Ri Bu from Moon in the Day. You think you've seen abusive parents but until you've seen a man abuse his son his whole life and then continue for 1500 years after his death, you ain't seen nothing!

FAVORITE SHIP

The doomed by the narrative OTP of Moon in The Day. Only thing that's better than enemies to lovers is enemies while lovers and their impossible relationship where her killing him is a supreme act of love and his refusing to let go is so strong that he stays around for 1500 years watching her, helpless as she dies over and over again, is everything you ever want.

Runner up: Jang Hyun/Gil Chae, My Dearest. They are so strong and so damaged and it takes them so long to figure out what they feel and what the other person feels but their love and sacrifice and complexities are perfect.

FAVORITE SECONDARY OTP

Kim Shi Yeol/Hong Joo, The Secret Romantic Guesthouse - an assassin bodyguard pretending to be a carefree scholar and a widow of the man he killed to protect his king (and whose life was destroyed as a result.) I enjoyed the main OTP of this drama but I was utterly and completely unhinged for the secondary couple.

I'd have probably picked Rang and his mermaid from TotNT 1938 even over them, but they really were the main OTP of that drama.

NOTP

King the Land couple seems like an easy target but honestly, they are both so terribly bland and antiseptic and marketing by committee, they kinda deserve each other. So I am gonna go with Destined with You, one half of which thinks supernaturally roofying someone into loving them is cute and the other half thinks dating one woman while wooing another is totally a-ok. Ugh.

FAVORITE SCENE

There is no competition for the scene in the slave market in My Dearest, where Jang Hyun finds Gil Chae - the way he screams and tries to clutch the hem of her skirt will live in my head forever.

And the scene where he 'wins' that horrifying bet, or the scene where she finds him in a pile of bodies - they are as good also. Or when he fights off a squad to protect her even though he's sick. That whole drama is perfect.

Runner up: the scene of Do Ha executing Ri Ta's family, covered in blood, as she looks at him from the crowd in Moon in the Day.

Or the scene where he talks about how he cannot live as a person but at least maybe she will kill him and he will die as one. Or when her confession in the past intercuts with his walking in the present, or when he comes home in his bloodied armor and she finds he has a fever and it's the first tender touch he's probably ever known. Her murdering So Ri Bu saying she knows she's going against filial piety in loving her parents' murderer, the way they hug, both bloody, as he says "let's live." The way she says she can't go on as she's hit rock bottom and he replies she cannot quit because she must accompany him to his rock bottom now. Honestly, the drama is a font of amazingness.

Also, the opening scene of Goryeo Khitan War or the scene of Yang Gyu ordering to shoot the captives and having to do so himself.

The OTP meeting again at the intersection at the end of ep 1 of Tell Me That You Love Me. SHS comforting ABH as he's having a traumatic breakdown in 19th Life. The love-making scene in Call It Love. There were a lot of great scenes this year.

BIGGEST CRUSH

Lee Jang Hyun, My Dearest - is that even a competition? He's flawed - vain, often emotionally closed off, not great at processing emotions, lashing out when hurt. He is also incredibly heroic in a real, knows the cost but bears it, kind of way. Whatever he does, he commits utterly but it's never without understanding the cost. He felt both larger than life and utterly real. He went through hell and maintained his soul and the way he loved Gil Chae was breath-taking to behold.

Runner Up: Yang Gyu, Goryeo Khitan War - an experienced military commander who wins an impossible victory even as it ravages his soul. Competence is sexy as fuck.

BEST SCENE STEALER CHARACTER

Rang, Tale of the Nine Tailed 1938 - 1938 really was Rang's chance to shine and he took it. For a character I started out disliking in the original, he really stole my entire heart in this drama. I am so glad he got his happy ending with his brother and his girl.

Runner Up: Crown Prince, My Dearest. He started out as a sheltered, spoiled aristocrat, convinced the world owed him for existing. He grew up slowly and painfully into an amazing man. And then was murdered for it and I cried.

NEEDS A SEQUEL

Arthdal - it leaves the story at a good stopping point but it's very much a "world in flux, adventures and conflicts continue" ending and I would love to see more of these characters. I know we won't but it would have been nice.

NEEDS SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

Behind Your Touch - should have been snipped at birth.

TOO MANY SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

Vigilante - I don't mean it had scissors taken to it because it's not cdrama and there is no NRTA, but this drama would have benefitted from being longer. I mean, I love fights and gay polycules as much as the next tumblr person but a bit more character development would not have come amiss. (ahaha - I said come. Leave me alone.)

TROPE THAT NEEDS TO DIE

I don't care about cops/doctors/trash collectors/whoever - workplace drama centering on their "cases" needs to die. I hate procedurals from any country and Korea is no exception.

FAVORITE TROPE WE’VE SEEN A LOT OF

Supernatural critter devoted to their OTP with all the power of their long life.

BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT

Our Blooming Youth - it was far from terrible but it was a giant meh. I was so excited to see Park Hyung Sik in a sageuk (that wasn't the hot mess that was Hwarang) and I adored the source novel. It actually started well and then...it's like Revenge of the Beige!

BIGGEST GOOD SURPRISE

I want to say Moon in the Day but to be honest, I was excited by posters and trailers so it wasn't wholly a surprise despite not having much of an opinion on the actors before I saw them. So I am going to say My Demon. I was bored by the trailers, I can't remember the last time I enjoyed a Kim Yoo Jung drama and before this year I would have said Song Kang was an incredibly limited actor in everything I've seen him in and not appealing to me at all. And here I am rabidly rabiding for this drama!

If I am not limiting myself to dramas but can use this for actors - Hwang Minhyun in My Lovely Liar. I genuinely did not think the man could act and then he gave such a pitch-perfect, nuanced performance out of nowhere!

2023 DRAMAS I HAVEN’T SEEN THAT I MOST WANT TO WATCH

I have actually watched all the kdramas that aired this year that I wanted to check out except for Evilive. I am saving this for when I have time.

BEST NON-2023 DRAMA I’VE WATCHED IN 2023

I don't know if I'd say it's the best but Say You Love Me (2004) with Kim Rae Won as a quasi monk seduced away from his true love by an evil older woman was a hell of a ride.

MOST ANTICIPATED

Love Song for Illusion (Lady assassin falls for her royal target who has two personalities), Captivating the King (lady spy falls for her royal target who is tormented) - notice a theme? Also Flower that Blooms at Night because Honey Lee in a sageuk, The Life of Mrs Ock (Lim Ji Yeon in a sageuk), The Love Story of Chun Hwa (an "erotic" sageuk, hmmmm, what?!), Hong Rang (Lee Jae Wook in a super angst sageuk), Queen Woo (that cast and set in Goguryeo!), Wong Kyung (about Lee Bang Won's wife and I love the cast.) Basically, if it's period, I am there with bells on.

[joannechocolat]

On Turning 60

When I was a child, someone told me: “Every life is a story.” I used to wonder what mine would be like; what adventures I would have. My favourite stories were from Rudyard Kipling’s Jungle Book, which my grandfather used to read to me:  thus I imagined my own story as a forest adventure in which I would run wild with my friends, and pick fruit by the wayside. I never imagined growing old, just as I never imagined the adults around me ever being young. And death, if I thought of it at all, was a monster that kept to the shadows, and never dared to show its face outside of the scariest stories.

I was four years old when I first encountered the monster. It was in France, when my great-grandmother died, having been taken suddenly ill as she and I were playing a game. I still remember that suddenness, and my mother’s tears, and the whispers of “not in front of the children”, and the various well-meaning relatives trying in their different ways, to explain to me why I shouldn’t be sad, how at sixty-five, Mémée was old, how death was completely natural, and that she was watching us from above. These stories varied considerably, from the fanciful to the macabre. Even at four, it didn’t take long for me to understand that the grown-ups were as much in the dark as I was about the whole affair. Children are analytical. They process information according to what they have been told. And at four, I concluded, both with certainty and a singular horror, that Mémée’s story was over, that death happened to everyone, and that I had more or less sixty years of life before it happened to me. For years after that, I would lie awake at night and think of the monster waiting for me in the dark, and tell myself that sixty years was a very, very long time, and that this suffocating fear would pass with age and experience.

Now I’m approaching sixty. At sixty, we’re meant to examine our lives, and think about mortality. And yes, it seems like a very long time. It also feels as if no time at all has passed since the night my great-grandmother died, and I first encountered the truth that lives at the heart of all fairytales. That was when I decided, with relentless, childish logic, that if death was the ultimate monster, then perhaps I could only hope to keep them at bay with stories.

And so I began to tell stories, first to myself, in secret, and then to anyone who would listen. Of course it took me a long, long time to understand that what I was really doing was trying to make sense of the world. In a universe of chaos, stories give a shape to our lives. They teach us to believe in love; to mistrust what is too easily won; to know that every stranger could be a deity in disguise. They teach us that happy endings exist; that kindness can sometimes bring reward; that life, like so many of the stories we read as children, is a journey through the woods, where anything can happen.

This is the advice I’d give my younger self, if I could. Life is like a story with a beginning, a middle, an end. It is not always as structured or as ordered as a story might be, and some are longer than others, but the journey is ours in part to direct. We can choose the paths we take, the places in which to linger. We can choose the people we travel with, the ones we make a part of our lives. Choose wisely, I would tell my younger self at the start of my journey; not everyone who seems friendly is a friend. True friends are not easy to come by; always cherish the ones you find. And bear in mind that the journey matters more than the destination. We live in a world where everything seems focussed on the future; events to plan; deadlines to meet; months and seasons flashing by. Time seems to accelerate as we get older; and yet there are ways to slow it down. We don’t have to rush through everything in order to rush through something else. We can exist in the moment. Stop. Pick the flowers. Feel the sun. Remember we only pass this way once, and that every step is a privilege.

These woods are filled with obstacles, and challenges, and wonder. Not all paths through it are easy. Stay curious, I would tell myself. Never stop asking questions. Wear your achievements lightly, and don’t be afraid of failure. Failures are a sign you tried; markers on the road to success. And as a teacher of 15 years, one thing I have learnt is this: There are no teachers, just pupils. We are able to learn from every angle, every stage of our lives. Elders may speak from experience, but some of the most important things I have learnt have been from younger people. Bringing up my son has been the lesson of a lifetime; I learn new things from him every day. So take your lessons where you can, and pay them back to others in kind. And don’t be afraid to make mistakes: mistakes are part of your story too, every one a lesson learnt, every one a challenge.

Nor should you fear the changes that time imposes on us. Change is what drives your story. Sometimes it brings grief and loss; sometimes, unexpected joy. And don’t be ashamed of the signs of age: in a world in which youth is prized far above experience, it’s all too easy to feel diminished by wrinkles and imperfections. But your body is a living map of everything you have experienced. Everything leaves marks on you. Childbirth; laughter; damage; grief. Be proud of those marks. They are proof that you have lived. When I look at my face now I see the faces of my family. I see my mother, my grandmother. I carry their stories inside me, coiled as tight as DNA. And I have told them again and again, just as they were told to me. We process the world through stories. We learn to live through stories. Through stories we connect with the past and understand where we came from. I mostly know my great-grandmother from stories my mother told me. The story of the day she died; her life in rural, wartime France; her recipes; her sayings; her jokes. Through stories, my son can know her, even though they never met. And of course, you know her too: she was the prototype for Armande, the fierce old woman in Chocolat. Through stories, people can live on, and be loved and understood. This is one of the things I have learnt on my journey through the woods; perhaps the most important thing: Remember to tell your stories.

Now, after many stories, I’m reaching that part of the forest where monsters lurk in the darkness. Three years ago, I had a brush with a monster I called Mr C - an aggressive kind of cancer, which luckily was found early. I survived that encounter, thanks to the care and vigilance of the NHS, but one of the lessons it taught me is that life is fragile, and precious, and short - much shorter than we imagine. Over the past few years I have lost too many loved ones to Mr C. One of them was my grandfather. Another was my oldest friend. Some were writers: Iain Banks, Jenny Diski, Graham Joyce. I have carried their stories with me, just as I carry the stories of my parents and grandparents. I hope my son will do the same. We stay alive through stories.

But right now, at sixty, I don’t feel old. I doubt anyone who loves stories really ever does. I remember Ray Bradbury telling me, at 81, that when he looked in the mirror, he saw a ten-year old boy with inexplicably white hair. And he was still writing–furiously, sublimely - till the day he died. I can relate: time is speeding up, and there are stories left to tell. I sometimes find myself trying to calculate how many I’ll have time to get down, especially as they’re still popping up like mushrooms all around me. I am more conscious of time passing by. I feel the change of the seasons in a way I didn’t before. But my walk in the woods has been beautiful. I have fulfilled my greatest dreams. I do what I love for a living. I’ve travelled the world, and had many adventures, and met many interesting people. I’m married to someone I love, who loves me. I have a son who makes me proud, and who I love more than words can say. I’ve faced down monsters, and survived. I’ve learnt a lot, sometimes the hard way. But as the French author Jules Renard (a favourite of my grandfather’s) once said: “Aim to die with regrets, not remorse.” I think I’m on the right side of that. And in spite of what I thought at four, approaching sixty is nothing to fear. There are still unwritten chapters to my story to be lived; places to discover, new things to learn. I mean to explore all those things, and more. I want to climb mountains. To travel through space. To see the depths of the ocean. Some of those things I may never know except in stories, but books are the way in which we live our many alternative, possible lives. I feel I’m just beginning to understand what matters to me; to find my equilibrium in this vast, bewildering world. For so many years, being sixty felt like the end of a journey. Now I see that it’s only another clearing in the woods. Maybe I’ll sit here awhile. Enjoy the sunshine. Pick the fruit. But soon I’ll be on my way again, picking up stories wherever I go. Because no story ever ends, not really. It just travels somewhere else, picked up by another storyteller. So, to whoever picks up my story, good luck with it. Maybe give me a wave. But for now, I think I’ve seen a path at the end of the clearing. It’s new, and therefore exciting, and promises adventure. I think I’ll follow it awhile; see what fruits are growing there. Stories flourish along these paths. Let’s see which ones I can find. After all, that’s what I do. And those monsters won’t defeat themselves.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - I'm DELIGHTED by so much goodness, also I lust after a boy's robot's pants

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Feb 2024 Wk 1

Ongoing Series - Thai

The Sign (Sat YT) ep 11 of 12 - I support the fact that the producers seem to have decided that even in uniform Yai never needs to wear sleeves. Hear hear.

No sleeves for Yai ever again!

On the other hand, why doesn’t anyone ever wear gloves? Going around touching evidence all willy nilly like that.

No to sleeves. Yes to gloves.

People. Sheesh. Get with the program.

Anygay, this is such a fun show. I could watch 50 episodes of this abject nonsense. I’m sad it’s gonna be ending. And I don’t say that often about Thai BL. 

Pit Babe (Fri iQIYI) ep 12 of 14 - Oh has Jeff been kidnapped again? Here, let's throw fruit at Babe and think about it for a bit. Tra la la. Trash watch happening here.

Cooking Crush (Sun YT) ep 9 of 12 - They are such very good boyfriends. Also, this is a ton of kissing for OffGun. I’m at a loss as to how they are going to turn this into a decent 12 ep show. Unfortunately, I’ve foresee it going off the rails - pacing seems off. 

For Him (Thurs iQIYI) ep 10 of 12 - We have our little No Comebacks twist. The sides are growing on me, but now the mains are boring me. The sudden gun-toting new characters are just weird. It’s like they took the script and just threw it down a staircase, gathered it back up again, then filmed that. 

City of Stars (Fri iQIYI) ep 1 of 12 - Fueang is an actor in the midst of crisis and scandal. Normally I don’t like Thai BL when it’s tackles celebrity and this is... yep, the same. Our actor is pitted against an older worried nerdy app developer, Krom. And I feel that dynamic - hyung romance, jock/nerd? Very nice. But it’s also very Star Hunter. Never met a trope they didn’t wanna do a million times over - in the very first episode. Also I think I’m not a fan of the actor playing the lead. 

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) ep 24fin - The blond who comes to get his hair shaved looks just like Fluke T (SOTUS et al). And even more like him after the shaving (My Bromance et al). Is that him? MDL doesn't say.

Anygay... something something: Orphan. Cancer. Kisses. Dream. Death. 'Bout what I expected. 2/10 even with a decent kiss I don’t do dream sequences and I don’t like death in my BL 

All in all, I’m relieved that that’s over. The series is a slog. And in general I don’t recommend it. I plan to promptly forget its entire existence. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Love For Love's Sake (Korea Weds iQIYI) eps 3-4 of 8 - There is so much to adore about this show. The two younger guys who are suddenly in competition for the one older one. You know hyung romances are my favs. A hyung love triangle? COME ON. Also, I got to say this one’s giving me second lead syndrome. I do love me a brat. Add in all this on honorific play and linguistic flirting (as their should be in age gap). This is just THE BEST show. 

Look I gotta say this: the "Who did this to you?" trope (AKA who hurt you?) is the single most popular romance trope right now, remarkable to see it turn up in a BL. And pleasing. Trust Korea to be ON TREND. It's their national agenda. *respect*

Perfect Propose (Japan Fri Gaga) eps 1-2 of 6 - From Fuji TV (who brought us the Pornographer series) adapted from Mayo Tsurakame’s manga, production team includes Tadaaki Horai (My Love Mix-Up!) and Takeshi Miyamoto (scriptwriter for Old Fashion Cupcake). Hiro’s so stressed at work he barely has time to eat so he passes out on the sidewalk. An unfamiliar face saves him and insists that they once promised to marry each other.

Ready?

Oh I fucking love it. Sullen, out gay, younger seme with serious grumpy overprotective tendencies and beautiful possessive cat eyes? Well, it’s not dimples, but it’s still my catnip. Also they are moving very quickly. Hand jobs already? + dub con seasoning? Say it with me everyone:

Oh Japan, must you? 

Apparently, you must. And I must enjoy it. Carry on.

Please reread those producer creds and understand what we are in for. Okay? I would urge you to avoid this one if you get squeamish when JBL does what... JBL does.

AntiReset (Taiwan Fri Viki/Gaga) eps 1-2 of 10 - I really enjoy the character of an OCD intellectual automaton professor, contrasted to a warm and sunshine actual robot. Out the gate, this is oozing Taiwanese domesticity, we can only hope they juice it with their usual standard of heat too. 

All puns aside: It’s charming and I’m charmed. Does Taiwan finally have another winner on its hands?

I do adore Taiwan's aesthetics: The house designs, the suit designs, the human designs. I wouldn't say no to the robot’s pants either. Very cool. Can I order them in black?

Although I Love You and You AKA Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 4 of 10 - The birthday confession was a bit much. But I love how mature the reactions were. It reminded me a little bit of I Cannot Reach You. Always a good thing. 

Girl: I like you. 

Sakae: sorry, not intersted 

Girl: what am I lacking? 

Sakae: a dick 

What you mean it didn’t go that way?

Happy Ending (Korea Tues YT) 2 of 3 - Oh it’s lovely, exactly as I expect from Strongberry.

I gotta say all of the above are pretty neck & neck for top spots for entirely different reasons. BL is seriously giving right now!

Sahara-sensei to Toki-kun (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 8fin - In the end this is mostly a piece about courage, and the rewards and disappointments that being courageous entails. Sadly, I personally didn’t have the courage to enjoy it. Featuring a chaos nugget bad boy student who falls madly in love with his teacher, this should’ve been My Thing. But Japan failed me. It happens sometimes. The leads had no chemistry, and the age gap rather than being a narrative driver and source of conflict, was just ignored. 7/10 

It's Done

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - will binge when I have any spare time. 2024 is crazy busy for me so far.

The Servant and the Young Master - from Vietnam so I assume it's on YouTube. I never even noticed. Anyone got a link?

Began Beginning (Myanmar YouTube) - Is TRUST Entertainment bringing us the first ever Burmese BL? I don't know if it's really the first, but @heretherebedork vouched for it, so I will give it a watch through.

The Whisperer (Thai Horror) - @all-you-had-to-do-was-neigh commented with the following: "MASSIVE content warning for extreme ableism, homophobia, and rape plots done for shock value. I don't recommend it, and if any of your followers decide to watch it proceed with caution."

So... yeah, I won't be watching it.

It's Airing But...

[NO INTERNATIONAL] Cherry Magic (Sat YouTube) ep 3 of 12 - yeah Japan put the smack down on our boys. Sadness. You can use a VPN if you like. Read all about it here.

Ossans Love Season 2 (Japan Gaga) - 5 years later, will anything have changed? This is Japan so… probubly not. I won't be watching this. I disliked Season one and actively hated the follow ups. No thank you.

Playboyy (Thurs Gaga) 14 eps - Dear Playboyy, it's not you, it’s me… I hate you. You’re about as deep (and as palatable) as a shot glass of cum. While I'm sure you’re someone’s kink, you're my weakest link. Goodbye. I DNFed this at ep 5. Frankly I'm impressed with myself for getting that far.

7 Days Before Valentine (Weds WeTV) 12 eps - Giving me Luminous Solution vibes. I'm waiting to binge if safe.

Dead Friend Forever (Thai Sat iQIYI) 12 eps - horror, meh, tell me if it's worth my time?

Time the series (Tue Gaga/YT) 10 eps - dropped it at ep 4.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Still Coming in Feb

2/17 A Secretly Love (Thai WeTV) - Khonprot, a third-year head hazer of the engineering faculty, has a secret crush on Pluem, a tsundere fourth-year head hazer. Over the years, he's seen Pluem cycle through many girlfriends. Recently, after a public breakup, however, Khonprot thinks maybe a boy has a chance.

2/24 Unknown (Taiwan Youku) 12 eps - Older brother tough guy criminal breadwinner looks after his sister and defacto adopted little brother. Little bother falls in love with him and is sent away after a stolen kiss. But when he comes back…

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

GMMTV is officially stalking me.

I do love OffGun's particular brand of domesticity. It's fun that they and TayNew are both getting to be so soft on our screens. It's very comforting, like a family favorite warm toddy. (Cooking Crush)

Korea, what's gotten into you? Are you feeling okay? Such bold weaponized gayness isn't like you at all. (Love for Love's Sake)

The Sign, forcing me to ask the eternal question.

I LOVES THEM YOUR HONOR. (Pit Babe)

(Last week)