#so cas did what he had to then for his family because he loved them

[kerryweaverlesbian]

The Winchester brothers? Oh I think you mean Sam Leahy and Dean Singer <3 I think their mom is Mary Campbell-Winchester so maybe that's where you got confused <3

[tojisteddy]

Ruthless

or: Country!Simon catches you attempting to tag his property, of course he has to teach you a lesson.

cw: 3.6k words, 18+ mdni, Country!Simon, alt universe, no use of y/n, some plot with smut, dub-con, spanking, breeding kink, p in v, creampie, age gap (Simon 29, reader 23), primal play & reencounter (if you tilt your head), pet names (little girl, city broad, lucky), fingering, lite pussy pronouns, degradation, lucky!reader

a/n: a scrapped Drabble turned into a full story cause I love plot

part 2!!! <3

You were running like your life depended on it.

It was dumb for you to even attempt to tag the Riley barn to begin with.

You knew that, your friends knew that, anyone in town would’ve warned you otherwise.

It all started with a little end of college fun, wreck havoc like the good ole days. Nothing out the ordinary. Something that supposed to be a silly little prank, saying goodbye to college and hello to adulthood by spray paint and a little egging.

Was it a little too much for your liking? Yes.

Just plain rude and disgusting because at the end of the day, what exactly did Ghost do to deserve any of this? But peer pressure is a nasty, annoying, bitch. Regardless of age.

The Riley Ranch had been rumored as evil and haunted, the only people who really interacted with the land being other farmers. Even when Simon Riley, the last standing of the family, came to church (on the rarest occasions), people kept their distance. Afraid his families “bad” energy would spread over to them.

They called him Ghost.

There was a fire at the families home, started by Ghosts father who was always in a rage. Your father made sure your family stayed clear of him when you visited, he wasn’t too kind to quote, ‘big headed, posey, no good, city slickers.’ No one thought his rage would grow so large into trying to kill his whole family.

No one one besides Ghost made it out that night, there was rumored to be a large burn mark on his back to prove it.

You’d gotten found too fucking quick, “What the hell do you think you’re doin?” His voice booming on the highway road.

Simon Riley was blessed to have ears like an owl. Heard the car pull up and stop on his property, the rumbling of the engine— a beat passes— the car doors slamming shut and the far off hushed giggles. Nothing new, people had passed his property to spook whoever the hell they were with. Try to show how “evil spirits” ran rampant on his land, even if they were, he hadn’t ask for them to be there. But they’d never stop. They’d do it before.

They’d do it again.

But he heard that can of spray paint shake and his boots hit the floor before he even realized it.

Not the brown farmhouse gate he’d spent so long sanding down as a child with the help of his grandfather. Not the white ranch fence he’d spend so long getting together as soon as the land was properly handed to him and in his name, that’d he hand painted himself and fixed up the grass so people knew better than to drop any litter there.

No fucking way.

Your friends were already in the mustang you’d arrived in, those bastards, revving the engine and zooming off. You dropped the can, more spray getting on the grass fuck, fuck, fuck— your brown eyes slowly looked up, meeting a more than livid pair blue eyes.

You wanted to squeak out, ‘im sorry’ but where would there be room for that? Not in between the ranch fence that already had a squiggly line and crooked smiley face with black spray paint on it created by yours truly. There would absolutely be no room for an apology when his face was already screwed up, jaw clenching from underneath the bandana that hid his face, eyes narrowing into slits.

Well duh, babe. Move those feet!

And you did, turning at a 90 degree angle and sprinting like it was the end of the world. Ghost mumbled a ‘god damn it’, and ran right after you, his boot quickly meeting a carton of unopened eggs.

Oh you were definitely in for it now.

You ran through the Egyptian wheat, tall as the eye can see, green leaves scratching your arms and legs. You prayed to God there wasn’t any crazy animals hiding in there. You were panting, taking a quick glance behind you and you could only hear rustling of the large plants that surrounded you, feet hitting the floor.

Then you heard a distant yell in the field, “[+], you get back here!”

Well it wasn’t exactly the hardest to spot you out, you looked like your mother— who looked like her mother. You came from a family known for actually being good people, never hesitating to help or providing when need be. You’d met Mr. Riley a couple times in your 23 years of life. Quick instances that you vaguely remember. But you knew his face, and he knew yours.

Your mom had been one of the few good people making sure he was well taken care of when he was younger, she couldn’t raise him like she had wanted to with having to travel back and forth from the city for work as a children’s author. But she’d made sure he was taken care of in whatever home he was placed in, encouraged him to join the Boys and Girls club, something to ground him.

“Just needs someone to look after ‘em is all,” she’d ensisted while braiding your hair one night before heading to meet him at his group home, fingers weaving through your curls with purpose, you were around eight. “Some kids need a lil extra love, show ‘em someone’s there for ‘em. Simon’s one of those kids, so is your older brother, even though he’s a pain in my side at times. They’re all good in their core— their heart. It’s important to have someone nurture it. Gods called me to do that.”

Though, the relationship strained when the foster system let him go. “He’s just having boy troubles. Boys go through those weird hormones when they hit a certain age. Wants to prove ‘imself as a man. They get real hard headed [+]. He’ll get over it ‘nd pull through. He always does,” she’d say. So certain. Undoubting. Like a sixth sense.

And Simon did manage well enough, clearly, for him to have a proper farm for himself, one that was properly taken care of and thriving. You’d visited with your mom two years back. It was so clear to you now. Your mother practically smothering him in a hug when she got close enough. Simon was awkward at first, but accepted it. His eyes and whole body softing by her touch. She’d been family when no one else would be.

He looked towards you, you met a gorgeous shade of blue, long blonde lashes to match his short blonde hair, face with a few noticeable scars and half his face hidden under a black bandana. You were standing a ways off so you couldn’t hear what he or your mother was saying, but you saw him nod toward you. Your mother saying something and him nodding in response. She waved you over,

“[+] you know Simon— I mean, Mr. Riley since you’re a grown man now, ain’t that right.” She laughed.

“Whatever you want ma’am.” He looks down at you and extends his hand. You take it, butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and give it a firm shake.

“Good seein you.” It wasn’t just words, he was sincere, caring. Like seeing an old friend.

You nodded, “ ‘S good seeing you too.”

He showed you the farm after that in his truck. The big house that was farther toward the woods, properly fixed after the fire a decade ago, the Egyptian wheat field, the horses and chickens and the new blue barn he was building to accommodate them, the horse training area used to break in horses no one else would. It was a lot of land, a lot of work, but you could tell by the sound of his husk voice, he was proud of himself and the work he’d been able to accomplish. Even more happy when your mom praised him.

It finally clicked: that barn— and right on time, you’d caught sight of it. Not the one Mr. Riley had been fixing when you visited, the old one. Large and in charge that had old wood, and was definitely falling apart. But you made a bee line for it anyway.

What other option did you have?

Your heart was practically beating out of your chest, nerves on a high because you didn’t even notice how close Ghost was to you before you ducked so he couldn’t grab you. Kicking his shin and dashing towards the barn that was bones.

“You damn brat! fuck me!” He cursed, hopping to ease the new pain on his leg before running right after you.

You undid the large wooden latch, sliding the doors open and immediately trying to slide them close. But his hand shot through the opening, a shiver runs down your spin.

Up the steps you went, the only place you could go, and Ghost was right on your heels, quick, almost silent— didn’t call him Ghost for no reason. You tripped and fell on a pile of hay and wild chickens went fluttering and clucking down to the barn floor, clouding your vision. Next thing you knew, Ghost finally caught you. His hands grabbed hold of both of your arms as you rolled around and thrashed underneath him.

“You fuckin asshole! Let me go!” You grunted, trying to kick your legs where the sun didn’t shine but completely missing when the older man closed your legs, gripping them together under your knees in his hands. He had you like a pig about to be roasted.

“You ruin my property but I’m the asshole?” The fucking audacity of you. “Gonna teach you a fuckin lesson cause clearly they don’t teach you city folk manners.”

With ease, Ghost sat himself down on one of the old hay bails, bringing you over his lap. He grunts, keeping you as still as you can, and then like thunder— his large calloused hand comes down to your plump ass, echoing in the empty barn.

“Mr. Riley!” You gasp, your head shoots up, eyes widening— there’s no way- was he giving you a spanking? The next one yanks you out of your thoughts, brutal, harsh, that makes you scream his name again, “Mr. Riley, that’s enough!” But he’s completely ignoring you.

“Spray painting my fences,” SMACK!

“Tryin to egg my house,” SMACK!

“‘Nd Ruinin my fuckin crops?!” SMACK!

“You’ve lost,” SMACK! “you’re damn,” SMACK! “mind! little girl!” SMACK, SMACK, SMACK!

You’re crying and whimpering, as his hand continues forming ripples in your ass. You’d gotten one singular whopping your whole life, from your grandma for breaking her good vase when she told you no ball throwing in the house. Life altering from one incident that made you into the goodest girl there ever was.

And then there’s this predicament, one that ripped your soul in two. One half fueled with hatred for doing something so crude— so audacious. And then the other that’s struggling to keep itself contained. one more hit that meets your tender bottom, one that hits you in a place you didn’t realize was boiling over— a smack to the ass that forces an egregious moan out of your trembling plump lips.

Simon stills, his eyes flicking over the state of you. You’re shaking, head down and legs finally not kicking. But he sees the way you try to hide yourself further into his lap, because you and he both know you just moaned because of a little whooping.

Oh— you're crazy.

You’d unknowingly created a fire and Simon would add lighter fluid to it.

He lifts the bottom of your short flower patterned dress, just to peak, you jump but still, your heart pounding even louder than it had before. And it’s a sight for the man to behold— your underwear soaked like the damn ocean. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to bring the hands down to hide the slick that was ever growing.

“D-don’t look.” You sniffle. Too damn cute.

But there’s a snicker, something that makes you look back at him and his eyes are shining with mischief, “My god, you’re a filthy lil thang, aren’t’chu?” It’s almost rhetorical, he’s not asking you, he’s asking your cunt. “Didn’t know you city broads were like that, learn somethin new every day, don’t you?”

You yelp when he yanks your underwear down to your knees, thrashing around once again, but Simon keeps you still. Your pretty pussys glistening as bright as sun on water, slick all over your fat second pair of lips. He brushes his fingers against them, sending shivers up your spine, you cant help but arch further into his touch.

You whine, “Mr. Riley-“

“—Shhhhh, gotta hear her,” he murmured, slowly slipping a finger in your drenched hole. Your pussys practically sputtering out with every thrust of his finger, slipping another one and coating it perfectly. He takes them out, sucking up the juices on his tongue that you’ve left on them, spitting down on your hole before stuffing his fingers back into you. He hums in satisfaction as you lose your mind, “such a fuckin slut, you just get this wet for anyone, don’t you?”

Your eyes reach the back of your head, breath hitching, “Nooo, I don’t- I wouldn’t!— ooh- agh- Mr. Riley!” your interrupting yourself with your own moans. Whatever anger you had before, folding into nothing.

He finally let’s go of your hands and you grip on to his leg, nails clawing at his jean cover thighs. Your stomach tightens running away as your orgasm builds but Simon follows, thrusting his fingers into your gummy walls even more, curving them to find your sweet spot with determination.

“Eaaasy now, don’t want to hurt you. Be good ‘nd cum. Know you want to, make a mess all over me darlin’.”

And that’s all it takes, with a twitch and a squeal, your cumming all over his hand. Simon thrusts his fingers a couple times, watching the wave of euphoria wash over you before sucking one of fingers clean, then bringing the other to your mouth.

“Come on, don’t be fuckin uppity, taste it lil girl” he tsked, you take the middle finger in your mouth, tasting your own arousol, swirling your tongue around it. Slowly pulling your head back with a ‘pop.’ It all goes straight to the blondes aching dick.

You hear it, the unbuckling of his belt, your stomach touching the tint that had built because of you. your mind finally snaps out of the trance he’s got you in. You barley manage to get out of his lap, scrambling through the hay, tripping over your underwear, on your as knees. Giving Simon the perfect view of your tender ass and the slick that’s dripping down to your thigh before you turn when you meet a wall. Pushing yourself into it.

“We- shit- someone- someone’ll come!” You ramble out, panting, still feeling the after effects of your orgasm. Your eyes avert to anything in this barn besides the man infront of you. But he made his way over to you, slow, stalking. And once he’s on his knees and hovering above you, he springs his cock from from his boxers. The blonde is hung, large and girthy, his tip strawberry red and leaking pre cum.

He bends down, sliding his fat cock between your wet folds, and then smacking his tip on your clit creating a plap, plap, plap. You can’t help but whimper at the sensation.

“You want it don’t you?” he whispers in your ear, taunting you, goosebumps wave over your skin. “Don’t want me all the way,” he traces over your belly, and then pokes right where your uterus is, “up here, hm?”

“Don’t want me to make you feel good pretty girl? Don’t wanna feel it once?”

Maybe it’s the adrenaline that’s pulsing through you, the way he’s looking down on you like you’re pathetic, dick crazed maniac. And maybe that’s exactly what you are, just once— you just want feel him stir your guts just. this. once.

“I do.”

And your soft voice is just enough for the brute to yank your legs open, Simon throwing your legs over his forearms and spreading your pretty hole open with just the tip. The man starts bullying himself inside the tightness of your pink walls.

He’s big. He’s too big. You hiccup, shoving at his shoulder while he’s splitting you in half, “Mr.Riley, ‘s so much! hicc- can’t. I can’t.”

He croons, slowly thrust more and more of his veiny length into you. “Come oooon city broad, thought you could take it? Don’t go runnin. Been runnin from me alllll this time little girl.”

“Bet you won’t do no shit like that again, ruining my damn property,” Simon hissed, smacking down your clit a few times. “Gonna fuck that nonsense outta that lil brain ‘f yours.”

“I won’t! I promise! Mmmph- I’ll be good! S-so good just for you. Always for you.” You mewled, one hands clawing at the wall behind you and other hand at his shoulder. He finally feels it, his cock reaching the very hilt of you, balls smacking your ass crack. The damn obscene sounds your syrupy pussy is making to keep him inside you, and his tip giving your cervix the messiest and he’s sure, the first kiss it’s ever received.

A baby.

You’d look so fucking sexy, being all plump with his fucking baby. He pushes your thighs back to you head further, jackhammering into your heat rough and mean.

“Five,” he mumbles, groping at one of your tits in his hand. Squeezing and kneading it like a vice.

“Wha-“

“You’ll give me five ‘f ‘em, won’t’cha? Make me a daddy.”

He’s talking nonsense, partially. Simon wasn’t dead set on five, he’d wanted a baseball team but he’d settle for whatever you wanted. One would do if it caused you too much strain. He’d take care of you and the baby, buy you whatever you asked for, have you sat on that back porch, in a rocking chair. Your hand on your full belly, watching him as he worked all lovingly.

Simon breath hitches, rolling his hips into yours with a grunt, fucking drunk at the thought of it. The thought of you, all while your pussy was squeezing on him like you were reading his fucking mind.

“C-christ almighty, I got lucky with you huh? A snug lil cunt like this deserves to be up filled up with my cum.”

You still couldn’t believe it, thee Simon Ghost Riley, was with you in this old barn fucking your brains out like you were fucking Eve in that damn garden, on top of a pile of hay. Both of you letting out moans and groans like animals that you’re sure anyone who stepped foot on property would be able to hear. It’s hot, and sweat is forming on both of your foreheads, your skin is sticky. Simon’s big balls hitting your ass every punch of his tip into you G Spot. both of your eyes hazy, stupid off the other getting off.

“Feel so gooood M-Mr. Riley! So much!” You keen, reach for the bandana hiding his face. He always pushes your hand away but then he remembers what you’re about to be— his lover, his wife— the mother of hic children.

“Mamma’s gotta know the face of ‘er children’s daddy right? pull it off.” And you do, tugging it. And god, maybe this whole ordeal got you lucky.

So damn pretty. A scar on his nose, another one at the end of his pink lips, blonde strands swaying everytime he ruts into you, “Mr. Riley’s sooo pretty,” you slur, talking to him like it’s some secret. You’re lucid in his cock, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure while you stomach coils up.

“Uh-uh, eyes on me city broad, look at me!” He squeezes your cheeks together, planting a fat kiss on your smooshed lips. He snaps his hips forward, and your head would’ve hit the wall from how good you feel. But Simons still got your pretty face in his hands.

“Gonna have ya allll bare foot ‘nd pregnant, waddlin yer cute ass ‘round here with a ring on that finger.” He’s telling you, as if this is already happened and he’s seein it with his own eyes. All you can do is moan at his words. You can’t even form a sentence at this point. Just nodding your ditzy little head while he gives you his dick.

“Gonna be a pretty fuckin mamma too, fu- shit baby, your pretty tits all full with milk for our kin— damn, you love the sound ‘f that dontcha? You can deny it all ya wont, but she’s achin for it.”

God, you are. She is too. You didn’t even know how greedy your pussy was being as he pistoned in and out of you, “Gonna— gonna cum, fuck I’m gonna-“

“-Yeah, thaaat’s it lucky, come all over your husbands cock.”

All you can utter is a ‘s-shit’ when your orgasm smacks you, your toes curling in your converses, thighs shaking in Simons hold.

The blonde gets you in a headlock, smooshing you down into the floor further, brushing your curls with hay out of your gorgeous face. rutting into you as your walls clamp onto him, begging for his all milk he’s able to give you.

Simon growls, and the strings of cum fill your womb. Your clammy bodies are still stuck together as he rocks the last bit of cum into. Mumbling while kissing your neck, “take it lucky it’s all yours. Gotta keep you nice ‘nd full if you’re gonna get pregnant.”

It’s quiet finally. The barn itself is old and creaks but you can hear the chickens right down the steps clucking, the cicadas chirping, the breeze passing through the trees. The only think you hear are his and your pants,

Simon scoops you up in his arms, adjusting your dress to cover the mess he’s created thats dripping down on that barn floor with every steps he takes.

“Mr. Riley, where are we- where are we going?” You hiccup, gripping onto his shirt. All you can look at is him, a little in shock, a little blissed out. The only thing your able to focus on is the handsome man holding you against his chest. The way his heart pounds louder as he looks down at you.

“To the house. It just won’t take after one go.”

a/n: a draft that’s sitting since last month. Luv you bubs. Can’t wait to write more country!simon

most recent masterlist

[mickeys-been-staying-at-ians]

So Dean is fucked up after Cas is taken into the Empty obviously, all melancholy, no sleep, drinking too much, you know his gist. Sam probably tries to get him to talk about it, but he would never tell him everything Cas said, you know. So Dean is miserable, and Sam is miserable, but THEY DON'T STOP trying to get Cas back.

And they do, somehow. So Cas appears somewhere in the library or wherever they were Doing What Brought Him Back and there's a second of confused, vulnerable silence because this can't be real don't believe it's real he's gonna disappear and it's gonna suck all over again but he stays, and looks at Dean, and then Dean is hugging him, clutching him like... well, like everything that happened, happened, and they're breathing each other in. Cas hasn't had the chance to think about what it all means, yet, so he's not overthinking it. Then they break apart, and Dean has tears in his eyes and his lower lip is shaking, and while Sam hugs Cas, too, Dean's body is like, shutting down, months of exhaustion (physical and emotional) catching up to him, and he feels it coming, so when Sam gets Cas to sit down, making him drink some water, Dean's like "I'm just gonna-" and he's running into his room and he doesn't even make it inside before he starts sobbing. He's sitting against his bed, his face in his hands, all wet now, when Sam comes in. Maybe he knocked, maybe not, Dean couldn't hear him. And he tries to cover himself a little, but Sam sees anyway, and he's so tired, so he just. Doesn't care.

And Sam says, "Dean, don't hide from him" and Dean isn't sobbing anymore but he's still crying into his palms, saying "I'm so tired, Sammy" and Sam knows. He doesn't know what happened between Dean and Cas but Cas said he did something and now Dean wouldn't feel comfortable around him. So, you know. Sam can guess, a little.

So he says, "He thinks you don't want anything to do with him anymore" and "you should go talk to him" and Dean is like "I can't" and he doesn't know why, maybe because he's exhausted, or because he doesn't know what to say to him , or because Cas sacrifised himself for him again, or because he told him he loved him and turned Dean's world upside down and disappeared, or maybe because he's scared.

And Sam knows this is all happening in Dean's head and he knows some of it is whispered to him in their dad's voice, so he says, "you know nothing in the world would ever change how I think of you," and Dean's head snaps towards him, wet with bloodshot eyes, confused and terrified, but he doesn't say anything, so Sam asks, "what really happened down there?" and Dean knows Sam knows. There's a hand squeezing his heart and lungs and he can't breathe, and Sam knows, and Dean wishes he could go back to when it wasn't even an option.

"He's your best friend," Sam says, and he is, he is, he's Dean's best friend, above all else, it's not just sacrifises and battles and blood and desperate confessions, it's also movies and music and inside jokes, so Dean asks Sam to get Cas. He does, and leaves them in Dean's room alone. And Dean says "don't ever die for me again" and "you think you saved me but i was barely alive" and "next time we die together" which is maybe a little fucked up, but he's feeling so raw. He says, "you're my best friend" and looks at Cas, hoping Cas hears everything he isn't saying, how Cas is the most important person in all the universes to Dean. He's family, but he doesn't say that, doesn't want Cas to think he's family like anyone else, because Cas is more. To Dean, Cas is- something Dean won't say yet, but he is.

And they have a quiet dinner with Sam because they're all tired, and Cas showers while they turn on the TV and bring out a couple of beers, and they act like it's a normal day in their life. Dean's head keeps falling and his eyes keep closing, his temples aching, but he stays, and at some point Sam goes to sleep, and when they're alone Cas tries to get Dean to go, too, but he keeps coming up with lame excuses to stay and Cas doesn't know what to make of it until he thinks maybe Dean doesn't want to be alone, or even - maybe Dean doesn't want to leave Cas alone, maybe he's scared something will happen to him again, or maybe he wants to just - be with Cas longer. And Cas is completely out of his element, because why would Dean- But it doesn't matter. His priority has always been Dean's well-being, so if there's any chance Dean is pushing himself because of - some of that, Cas will step up.

So he asks Dean if he can sleep in Dean's room tonight because he doesn't want to be alone. And there's a blaring red light going off in Dean head, screaming he knows he knows he knows Dean wants him to... what? Dean doesn't even know. Cas is asking as if for himself, for Dean's benefit, and Dean. God. Dean loves him, doesn't he? He's always loved him, but he loves him like... like... but he doesn't think it, still. He feels too open, now, and he wants to lock himself in his room and sleep it off and drink and stop feeling so vulnerable, he thinks he must be an open book to everyone, to Cas especially, and god, could people always tell? Can Cas tell, now? But why does it matter? Cas told him- he told him-

But none of it matters, because Cas is here, and he's offereing Dean an easy way out, and Dean is a weak, weak man, and he's exhausted and all he wants is to breathe Cas' air and know he's here, and not going anywhere.

So Dean puts on an old T-shirt and gets out of his jeans like he always does before realizing Cas is here. He flushes all over, sits down on his bed because he didn't think about how this was gonna go. Cas glances at the desk as if he was gonna sit in his chair the whole night, and Dean doesn't actually know if Cas sleeps now or doesn't, which he maybe should've thought of before, but before he can say anything, Cas says, "Dean, I don't want to make you uncomfortable" and Dean, completely lost, says the first thing that comes to his mind, which is, "can you lie down with me?" which is not exactly how he was gonna tell Cas he's the opposite of uncomfortable with him, but it does the trick. He makes Cas get out of his dress pants and gives him a T-shirt to sleep in, too, and flushes even more when he realizes what Cas is wearing. Dean lies down when Cas steps towards the bed, faces the wall because he doesn't know what to do with himself. They lie in silence for an awkward moment before Cas says, "are we okay?" and Dean says, "of course we are" and Dean knows Cas is still overthinking it, and he is, too, but... Cas took the leap, and he must feel so uncertain about them, and Dean thinks he owes him something, at least. Cas told him he loved him. Nothing felt right since then, because Cas died and because Cas thought he could never have what he wanted and because Cas thought he wasn't the most important person in Dean's life with Sammy, whatever that meant, and because Dean had to come to terms with that reality, a reality where Cas loves him, has loved him, him, Dean, broken and all. A man. A man Cas thought beautiful, and loving, and- and Dean has many issues, but Cas was never one of them, and Cas deserves to feel certain about his place in Dean's life.

So Dean asks Cas to come closer, and there's a still moment before Cas does, still too far away from Dean, and Dean can't see him, can't make himself turn because his heart is beating so loud he thinks if he looks at Cas, it's gonna beat out of his chest. So he reaches behind himself, finds Cas' hand and brings it forward, keeps it between his hands and brings them to his face. Breathes Cas in. "Please don't leave again" he says, in that tone he used when he prayed to Cas. He feels Cas shift, finally, as if he lost some of the tension from his body, feels the bed dip behind him, and he doesn't know how Cas moves but then Dean's back is pressed against Cas' front, and despite his beating heart, Dean is feeling the exhaustion start to take him. "Cas, I..." he tries, but he can't think anymore, can't make sense of anything.

"You can fall asleep, Dean," Cas says, his words warm in Dean's hair and the last thing he hears before sleep takes him is "I will be here when you wake up."

So when Dean wakes up, it's to a heavy arm around his chest and slow breaths against the back of his head. There's no moment of confusion about who he's with, or why. He doesn't even get a second to consider if it was real before Cas says "good morning, Dean" and Dean wonders if Cas slept at all. If he needs to sleep, now. There's so much they need to talk about, all three of them.

"Cas," he tries again, remembereing his attempt from last night. He needs Cas to know, for sure. "Cas, I - what you said. You know I. I've never..." and Cas is like "I know, Dean" but he sounds a little confused, so Dean doensn't know what Cas thinks he knows. So he turns, takes a second to notice how close they are now, and he thinks about Cas' eyes, his lips. Thinks, soon.

"You have to know," he says, as if Cas didn't say anything. "You have to know how I - what I" and he can't get the words out, not sure if it would be easier if there were no words to get out or if there were no voices in his head screaming over them. So he breathes in, Cas' scent overtaking his senses, brings his palm to Cas' face. Closes his eyes. Thinks, soon. Thinks, now, and meets Cas halfway.

[nineteenninety-six]

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ Chocolate Bars and Injuries [3.5]

Pairings: Jack Abbot x Reader

AN: This was just meant to be a little fic that was I planned to post on wednesday but lol, it kinda spiraled but it's been a while since I posted anything from this little family.

Synopsis: Jack and Caspian 'camp' in the backyard.

TAGLIST: @darksparklesficrecs @flyinglama @antisocialfiore @lonelyloomis @impossibleblizzard

PART THREE

After almost a month of begging and waiting, Caspian's backyard camping weekend finally came into fruition, though to his dismay, you were not participating.

You had been invited to a girls night out and after much encouragement and an offer to look after Caspian from Jack, you had agreed to go. You hadn't spent more than just a day away from Caspian since your parents died almost and so this was something new for the both of you.  You were nervous but more than that, you were excited. You needed a day where you could have fun, relax and not have to worry about your brother. Caspian on the other hand, was not taking it well, he glued himself to your side every chance he got, as if to prevent you from leaving and despite your many reminders of how much he liked Jack and loved spending time with him, Caspian didn't budge.

You had just finished packing your overnight bag with Caspian sitting firmly in your lap as you did so. You half expected him to beg you to stay but he remained silent during the whole process to your surprise. Apparently he was giving you the silent treatment for now.

"C'mon bug, let's get a lil snack before Jack arrives" You push Caspian up from your lap, shifting him to his feet before you stand yourself and follow him into the kitchen.

"Are you not looking forward to camping with Jack? I know he is. He can't stop talking about it." You ask Caspian, watching as he nibbles on his apple slices.

"I want you there'' Caspian shrugs and mumbles.

"I know but I'm going out with my friends."

"Why?"

“Because I haven't seen them in a long time and I miss them" You explain.

"You don' wanna have fun with me?" Caspian pouts.

"I have fun with you all the time don't I?" You raised a knowing brow, "You have fun with your friends like Tanner, at school and I want to have fun with my friends too."

"You'll be back tomorrow?"

You nod, "Yes, I'll be back for lunch tomorrow."

Caspian lets out a long sigh before he nods, "Okay…"

"Trust me Cas, you're going to have so much fun with Jack you won't even realise I've been gone."

Caspian didn't look like he believed you but he didn't  have much time to pout on it as the doorbell went off shortly afterwards, signalling Jack's arrival.

You open the door with the usual smile you reserved for him but your smile quickly twitches into a laugh at the sight of him laden with camping supplies.

"Oh…wow" You laugh, "I guess someone is excited for tonight."

Jack gives you a quick nod with a grin, "Uh-huh. Brought everything we need."

You push up onto your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek before you take the cooler and what you could only assume was a sleeping bag from his hands to ease his load.

"Is there more in your truck?" You ask as you lead the way through the house and into the spacious backyard, smiling as a curious Caspian trotted after you.

"Yeah, I've got the tent and camping chairs in there." Jack grunts as he rests his hands on his hips as he surveys the area, mentally planning where to set up the tent, "I got a sleeping bag for Cas as well."

"How much was it? I'll pay you back."

Jack ignores your offer, turning to Caspian instead "I picked up one of those disposable barbeques, how do burgers sound for tonight?"

"Burgers?" Caspian perks up.

"And hotdogs." Jack nods," You excited?"

"What about s'mores?"

Jack laughs at his question, "It was meant to be a surprise for tonight but yeah kid, I got the supplies for s'mores too."

Caspian cheers, mood taking a 180° spin. He claps excitedly as he jumps over to Jack, "We start now?"

"You're gonna help me build the tent?" Jack asks.

"Yea!" Caspian nods.

You decide to leave soon after, figuring the more time Caspian spent the time distracted and with Jack, the less time he spent missing her.

Jack looks almost as excited as Caspian does as he darts off to get the last of the things he brought from the truck.

"You'll be good for Jack okay?" You say as you pull Caspian into a hug and press a kiss to his cheek, "You can ask Jack to call me whenever you want but I'll call you at bedtime."

Caspian's hug is tight and you remained in the hug until he felt ready enough to pull away, "I miss you."

"I'll miss you too," you give him a comforting smile, "I love you lots too."

"I love you more!" Caspian shakes his head making you laugh.

"Hmm, I' m still sure I love you more... especially since I'm letting you make s'mores with Jack"

Caspian pauses for a moment before nodding in agreement, "Okay, you love me more."

Jack chuckles as he watches the both of you say goodbye. You send Caspian off before you make your way over to him, arms wrapping around his neck whilst his arms wrapped around your waist.

"Thank you again for all of this" You tell him, your hand drifting to the back of his head where your fingers play with his curls.

"S'alright, I'm looking forward to it." Jack gives you a small smile.

"I was worried y'know about him not having a good male role model after my dad passed but you're so good with him." You stare into his eyes, finding comfort in his usual unrelenting gaze, "You're so good to both of us."

Jack's eyes flicker away from yours, breaking eye contact as he becomes flustered at your admiration and compliment.

"You're good for me too." Jack confesses, "Robby most definitely believes so."

"Are you ever going to properly introduce us?" You ask pulling away.

"Robby hosts a barbeque every summer, it's in a couple of weeks…he's extended an invitation if you'd like to go."

You grin at him, "I'd love to go."

Caspian had the very important job of holding the pegs as he helped Jack set up the tent in the backyard. You had left not that long ago and Jack was quick to distract Caspian with work before he got too sad about your departure.

"Alright kid, that's the last one." Jack sighed as he hammered the last peg into the ground, "Next we set a few mats on the floor and then blow up the mattresses."

Together they set up the mats and mattresses in the tent, throwing their sleeping bags and the extra blankets you had brought down since you worried about them getting cold over night, in the tent haphazardly and when they had finished, Jack sat into the camping chair with a relieved sigh and smirking when Caspian copied him.

It was only mid afternoon so they had a lot of time to spare but there were loads of benefits of camping in your backyard, including going inside to watch a couple of movies until it was time to cook dinner, which is exactly what they did. Jack flicked on a kid friendly movie that easily captured Caspian's attention while he relaxed on the couch with a beer in his hand as he responded to your messages.

The film captures Jack's attention too, to his surprise the animated movie about the adventures of a young girl and seabeast entertaining him fully until it ends. Now two hours later, it was time to start the barbeque much to Caspian's delight as they were getting closer to night which meant s'mores.

Caspian sat happily in his little camping chair, blanket wrapped around him as he held a skewer with a marshmallow pierced through the top. It was going to take a while since it wasn't a proper grill but Caspian didn't seem to mind. 

Jack took a picture of him, sending off to you and smiling when you instantly responded with a series of emojis. You were always quick to respond to the messages despite being out but Jack knew that stemmed from your anxiety, you were scared of something happening and you were not aware until it was too late so you always read and responded to messages quickly.

'Send me one of both of you' 

You send him a text and instructions on how to set a timer for the photo since you know the older man only used his phone only for text, calls and emails. Jack sets it up so it rests on his chair before he steps back and kneels next to Caspain and they both smile into the camera as the countdown finishes. Jack then lets Caspian take a series of low-angled, blurry pictures of him which you love as much as the good quality ones and he knows it's only a matter of time before you get them printed and add them to the photo album.

Jack can't remember the last time he had a s'more, probably when he was younger but as he bit into Caspian's hard work, he wondered why he waited so long to have them again, they were glorious things.

"These are great Cas" Jack complimented the boy, "Your sister is going to be jealous."

Caspian hummed, chocolate smeared all over his mouth, "We can have more tomorrow."

Jack nods as his phone rings from an incoming facetime call from you and he quickly answers, smiling as your face appears on the screen.

"Hey!" You beam, "Are you two having fun?"

Caspian scampers over, climbing into Jack's lap so that can speak to you too.

Caspian nods, "We had s'mores! And burgers!"

"I know!" You laugh, "Did you help Jack with the tent?"

"Yeah!"

"He was my very important peg handler," Jack adds, "And he helped with blowing up the mattresses."

"See I told you, you'd be having too much fun to miss me." You tease.

"I like Jack," Caspian shrugged, "He's fun."

"Yeah he is" You agree, your eyes on Jack behind him "I like him too. A lot."

"See you soon?" Caspian asks.

"Yeah bug, tomorrow. I'll bring you and Jack something from a restaurant, how does that sound?"

Caspian happily nods before you and Jack continue to talk and before you know it, you have to go back to your friends so you blow kisses across the screen, wish them goodnight before you hang up.

As the night furthered on and the moon rose into the sky, Caspian quickly drifted off to sleep, curled up in his little camping chair, swaddled in at least three blankets that Jack wrapped around him. Jack tucks Caspian into his sleeping bag in the tent and reapplies the blankets on top of him, making sure he's warm before he steps back out of the tent and returns to his chair where he relaxes back and stares up at the sky.

He sighs and takes a sip of his beer as he looks back on his day. It wasn't long, it wasn't stressful, it was fun and fulfilling. He usually felt like this after a busy, extensive day at the pitt, it scratched an itch that settles his nerves and thoughts and so did today in a different way. Spending time with you and Caspian was always great and he was doing things he never expected he would ever do but he enjoyed it immensely. Spending time with you brought out a side he thought he had lost a long time ago and he can't imagine going back to how he once was.

As Jack sipped his beer and stared up at the night sky he wondered if it was too early to ask you about moving in with each other, especially since you hadn't even been dating for a year. 

[plasticflowersinahistorycemetery]

inviolable

part I

Pairing: Ben x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ben's your dad's best friend, his partner in crime, your godfather. You've harboured a secret crush on him for years, and maybe—just maybe—he's got some hidden feelings of his own that he's kept bottled up for too long.

Warnings: 18+!, Ben is his own goddamn warning, age gap, pining/mutual pining, forbidden romance, forbidden relationship, secret/hidden relationship, power imbalance, dubious morality, possessiveness, jealousy, smut (clitoral stimulation, fingering, handjob, cunnilingus/oral, dry humping, p in v, kissing, spitting), dirty talk, mild misogyny, I may have missed some.

Word Count: 7,741

A/N: I'm back. Christ, I'm on a proper mission with writing at the moment. Must be the insomnia. Thank god for it though, eh? Anyways... this is a little something that's been in my head for a long old time, it's based off a weird dream I had a couple months back (I was watching The Boys damn near constantly, like falling asleep with it on and everything, as well as reading a bunch of SB smut) and I just built on it, and it's kinda run away with me a lil bit. <3 Lot of the plot in this first instalment... plot is a term I use lightly. Because—what goddamn plot? Hope you guys like the little Sameo! (see what I did there? Cameo... but... Sam? No? Sorry.) So... this is part one. This one will definitely only have two parts... and knowing me, I'll have it finished by some time tomorrow night. So, yeah, while all the warnings listed above may not be evident here? They will be in the next part. S'gonna be a doozy. Until then? All the love.

Without further ado: INVIOLABLE

There are things in this world meant to remain untouched. Sacred things. Hallowed things. Bound by blood, by time, by unspoken law. To trespass against them is to court ruin—to lay hands upon the inviolable and feel the weight of the world shift beneath your feet.

Some doors are never meant to be opened. Some lines are never meant to be crossed. Some names are never meant to be spoken in the dark, breathless and trembling, as hands that should never touch find purchase in forbidden places.

But the thing about forbidden things? They don’t stay untouched forever.

You don’t remember when it started. Maybe it was always there, a quiet, undisturbed thing, like a seed buried deep beneath the soil, waiting for the right moment to break open.

Ben had been a constant for as long as you could remember. Your godfather. Your father’s best friend, his shadow, his second half in ways that made it impossible to imagine one without the other. There was no family barbecue, no holiday gathering, no Sunday spent in the backyard without him. He was always there, cigarette tucked behind his ear, beer in his hand, voice rough and low like gravel warmed by the summer sun.

And God, he had always been so handsome.

Even as a child, you’d thought so—before you even knew what handsome was supposed to mean. You just knew you liked looking at him, that your stomach flipped when he laughed, that you wanted him to notice you. And he always had.

Where your father had rolled his eyes at your endless energy, Ben had indulged you. When your dad had said no, Ben had smirked, crouched down, and let you climb onto his shoulders anyway, holding you steady as he walked around the yard like you belonged there, like he didn’t mind carrying your weight. He let you hang off his leg, dragging him down with your tiny hands locked around his knee, and he would walk anyway, his booted steps slow and exaggerated as he played along, dragging you through the grass while you shrieked with laughter.

And the gifts. The perfect gifts.

It had been your sixth birthday when he’d given you the lamb. A stupid little stuffed thing, soft and floppy-eared, but from the moment you’d unwrapped it, it had been yours. Clutched in your arms at bedtime, dragged through the house by one matted paw, tucked beneath your chin when you curled into your father’s lap.

"Lamby," you’d called it, with all the solemnity of a child bestowing a title upon something sacred. And it had stuck.

Your father’s friends had made it a joke—called you Lamby just to get a rise out of you, to tease you until you were red-faced and flustered. "Only Uncle Ben is allowed to call me that!" you would snap, every single time. And your father had only laughed, nudging Ben with a knowing grin, muttering something about his little admirer.

You hadn’t understood what that meant back then. You hadn’t known it was anything more than adoration.

But then puberty hit.

And the adoration didn’t go away. It just... shifted.

You told yourself it was still innocent. That it was normal to notice the way his arms looked in his rolled-up sleeves, the way he leaned against your father’s truck, the way his voice melted into you like whiskey and smoke. You told yourself it didn’t mean anything when you hated seeing other women near him. When he brought girlfriends to family parties, when they sat too close, when they ran their hands down his arm or pressed their lips to his cheek, it made your chest ache with something raw and unfamiliar.

He was yours.

Not in any way that made sense, but still. He was your Uncle Ben.

And then came the night after your eighteenth birthday.

You had been drunk. Slurring your words, tripping over the sidewalk, clutching your best friend’s arm as she tried—and failed—to keep you both upright. The thought of calling your father had been enough to send panic clawing up your throat, so you’d called the only other person you trusted.

He had picked up on the first ring.

And twenty minutes later, his truck had pulled up to the curb, headlights slashing through the dark, his expression set in something between relief and exasperation. He hadn’t lectured you. He hadn’t yelled. He had just sighed, tipped your chin up to look at him, and said, "This gonna become a regular thing, Lamby?"

And God, you had hated how warm that stupid nickname made you feel.

He had dropped your best friend off first, watching until she was safely inside, then pulled into your driveway and put the truck in park. He had glanced at you, eyes dark in the dim glow of the dashboard, fingers drumming against the wheel before he spoke.

"I can’t lie to your dad, you know."

"You won’t have to," you had promised, voice soft and a little too sincere.

And that had been enough for him. He had ruffled your hair, just like he always had, fingers threading through the strands before falling away. "Get inside, get some water, and go to sleep. No more stupid shit."

You had nodded, cheeks burning, throat tight. You had felt so young then, under the weight of his gaze. Too young. But you weren’t. And someday, he was going to realise that too.

Then came 4th of July weekend, the year you'd turned nineteen. 

The heat had been unbearable.

Thick and wet and heavy, clinging to your skin, making the air hum with something dense and slow-moving. The whole backyard had smelled like charcoal and cut grass, the acrid tinge of fireworks powder settling into the summer air as your dad and his friends—Ben included—set up the launch station.

You’d spent the whole day running back and forth between the house and the yard, fetching ice-cold beers, mixing up pitchers of iced tea and lemonade, your father muttering something about not letting his old ass friends drop dead from heatstroke. It should have been annoying, but you liked being useful, liked the way they all grumbled their appreciation, knocking back the drinks you handed them, sweat dripping from their temples.

And Ben? You’d liked it most when he reached for the glass.

The way his fingers had brushed yours, barely noticeable. The way he had tilted his head back, swallowing deep, Adam’s apple bobbing, before exhaling with a low groan. "Christ, Lamby. Think you saved my goddamn life."

You shouldn’t have felt it the way you did.

But you had.

And now, as the sun dipped low, casting everything in burning gold, you were perched on the picnic table, watching them finish the setup. Your legs bare, thighs sticky from the heat, the denim of your cutoffs riding too high—not that you were about to fix it. Your father was barking out orders, directing Ben and the others, but you could tell they were moving slower now, the heat catching up with them, exhaustion weighing down their steps.

Then Ben sighed, slapping his hands against his jeans. "Goin’ for a smoke," he muttered, and without much thought, he came to rest right beside you.

Not on the bench, but on the table itself. Perched, ankles crossed, the slight shift of the wood beneath his weight making you acutely aware of how close he was.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, that earthy scent of sweat and sun-baked skin mixed with the cigarette as he lit it, fingers cupping the flame from the breeze before shaking the lighter closed.

And then—he glanced at you.

Just for a second too long.

Just long enough for your heart to stutter, for something low in your stomach to twist itself into a tight, hot knot. He looked away too fast, like he caught himself before it could mean anything, and it made you feel a little sick with wanting.

So you grinned, cocked your head, and asked, "Can I try?"

His reaction was instantaneous. A sharp scoff, a low laugh, and then—"Fuckin’ behave yourself."

Your breath hitched.

You shouldn’t have felt it the way you did. But you did.

Something in his voice, in the rough scrape of it, made the air feel different. You weren’t sure if it was disapproval or something else, but either way—your face burned with the heat of it.

You tried to brush it off, tried to act like it didn’t matter, but as he took another slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling smoke into the humid air, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—he’d felt it too.

The fireworks had gone off like crackling constellations, splitting the night sky into pieces, blooming in colours that made your father’s face glow with the kind of pure, boyish joy that made your chest hurt. He had been beaming, beer sloshing in his hand as he threw an arm over one of his old friends, laughter bubbling from his chest.

The rest of them had been just as bad, slurring through old war stories, cheering every time another explosion thundered overhead.

You had slipped away at some point, away from the heat of bodies and the tang of sweat and liquor in the air. The mosquito lamp buzzed softly from the porch as you leaned against the railing, staring out into the yard, the scent of burning gunpowder still thick in the air.

Then—footsteps behind you.

Ben.

"Knew you’d be hiding somewhere," he muttered, already pulling a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. He perched on the railing, flicked his lighter open, and took a slow, deep drag. Then, without looking at you—without any warning at all—he pulled the cigarette from his lips and held it out.

"Just this once."

Your chest constricted.

For a second, you just stared at it—like maybe if you reached for it, you’d burn yourself on something else entirely. But he was watching now, eyes flicking sideways, and you didn’t want to look like a kid.

So you took it. Put it between your lips. Inhaled, tried not to cough.

Ben chuckled. "Look at you. Lil’ fuckin’ menace." Then—softer, lower, just for you: "Lamby."

That did something to you.

Something dangerous. Something hot and breathless and twisting, your whole body thrumming with something bright and stupid and electric.

Then, before you could even process it, he was holding out his beer. "C’mon. Might as well complete the set."

You took a sip, felt the cold bite of it trickle down your throat, the taste of smoke still lingering on your tongue. Ben watched, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, before he tapped his nose with two fingers and winked.

"Don’t tell your dad."

And just like that—he stood, stretching, rolling his shoulders before heading back toward the others.

You sat there, reeling.

Preening.

Because it wasn’t much, was it? Just a cigarette, just a sip of beer, just a joke. Except it wasn’t. Because it had been just for you. Because you’d felt seen in a way that made something curl and bloom in your chest.

And later, when the house was quiet—when the night was settled, heavy, deep—you still weren’t asleep.

The guys had been too drunk to leave, sprawled across couches, filling up the guest rooms, your father snoring loud enough to shake the goddamn walls. But you were still awake, still buzzing, still aching with something you couldn’t name.

And then—footsteps. Soft. Slow. Passing by your room. You watched the shadow slip under your doorframe.

And then—pause.

Just for a second. Not long. Not even long enough to be real. But you felt it all the same. The moment passed. The shadow moved on. The footsteps faded.

And still—you sat there for the next hour, face buried in your pillow, biting back the giddy, breathless, shaking laughter in your chest. Because whether it had been him or not, it didn’t matter.

You wanted it to be.

And when your first date had come around, you had been so excited.

Not the kind of giddy, fluttery excitement that made you feel small—no, this was something deeper, something that made you feel light on your feet, steady in your chest. It had been a long time since someone had noticed you like that, since someone had looked at you and seen more than just the girl they grew up around, more than your father’s daughter.

And Sam had seen you.

A guy from a couple of towns over, nice enough, awkward but in a way that had made you laugh, spilling beer on you at the bowling alley before immediately scrambling for napkins, his face red as he apologised over and over. He had stayed with you the whole night, ditching his friends without hesitation, choosing instead to sit in a dimly lit booth while the two of you talked.

Not just talked—really talked.

Folklore. Mythology. The things that made your brain buzz, the subjects you had been considering studying in college, but never quite voiced aloud to anyone who might take it seriously.

But Sam had taken it seriously.

He had leaned forward, elbows braced on the table, asking real questions, pushing deeper, not just humouring you, but actually listening.

And when he had asked you out, when he had ducked his head and scratched the back of his neck, waiting for an answer—

You had squealed. You had said yes immediately, heart skipping, stomach twisting, exchanging numbers before parting ways, feeling like maybe—just maybe—you were stepping into something new.

So tonight, you had dressed for it.

Your prettiest sundress, soft and light, swaying when you moved. Sandals, simple but delicate. You had done your hair, your makeup, catching your reflection before heading downstairs, thinking—"I look… grown up. Pretty, even."

The thought had felt strange, thrilling, like shedding something old, stepping into something undiscovered.

And then—you walked into the living room.

Ben and your dad were lounging on the sofa, beer bottles in hand, eyes fixed on the baseball game you hadn’t even realised was on. The room smelled like cologne and sweat, hops and leather, the low murmur of the commentators filling the space.

You had barely glanced at them as you passed, already reaching for your bag, when you said, "Sam’s gonna be here soon to pick me up."

And that was when Ben spoke.

"Who the hell is Sam?"

His voice had been flat, clipped, like he was barely paying attention—but then your dad answered.

"Some guy who asked her on a date. Seems like a good kid. Bit of a square."

You had opened your mouth to protest, to defend Sam, to tell your dad that being a square wasn’t a bad thing, when you felt it—

Ben’s eyes on you.

A slow, sweeping once-over.

Your breath caught, the moment thickening, stretching, twisting into something you weren’t sure you were imagining.

Then he turned back to your dad, muttered, "She’s too young to be goin' on dates."

And your stomach dropped. Not because you were embarrassed—no, because of the way he’d said it.

The rough edge to it. The way his fingers tightened around his beer bottle, the way his jaw flexed, his shoulders tensing where he leaned into the couch. It wasn’t some offhand comment—it was something else.

Your dad had only laughed, smacking Ben’s arm, shaking his head. "She’s twenty now, man. C’mon."

Ben didn’t answer. Not at first. Just took a long sip of his beer, eyes flicking back toward the screen, but not really watching.

And that’s when your heart started pounding.

Because your father had been fine with it. He had laughed it off, joked about it, made peace with it weeks ago.

But Ben? Ben wasn’t fine.

Ben was annoyed.

And you didn’t want to play things up in your head, you didn’t, but he was coming across jealous.

And that—that made your chest feel too tight, too warm, something curling behind your ribs, something you shouldn’t want as badly as you did.

Because Ben had never looked at you like that before.

Sam had been sweet.

That was the only way to describe him. Sweet. Earnest. Polite in a way that most guys weren’t. He had kept his hands to himself all night, opened doors for you, paid for dinner even when you’d offered to split, and had spent most of the drive home talking excitedly about a new book he thought you might like, glancing over at you every so often like he couldn’t quite believe you were still sitting beside him.

And maybe that’s why you let him walk you to the door.

Because it had been nice. Because he had treated you like someone special, not just a pretty girl, but someone he actually wanted to know.

You had stood there on the porch, shifting slightly, fingers curling around the strap of your purse as he leaned in.

Not too fast. Not too forceful. Just slow, like he was making sure you had time to pull away if you wanted to. And maybe you would have let him kiss you. Maybe you would have closed the gap, felt something soft, something simple, something nice.

But you didn’t.

Because the second your lips almost met—

The door swung open.

And there stood Ben.

Big. Broad. Muscular as hell. Arms crossed over his chest, jaw tight, eyes hard and cold and fixed—not on you, but on Sam.

"’Bout time you got home, Lamby."

Your stomach dropped. Not because of the nickname, but because of how he said it. Because it wasn’t warm. It wasn’t teasing.

It was territorial.

And Sam? He felt it too. You could tell by the way he shifted his weight, by the way he glanced at you, rubbing the back of his neck before stepping back, voice soft, awkward.

"I had a great time."

"Me too," you said, voice smaller than you meant it to be.

He hesitated, gave you a small smile, then turned, walking quickly toward his car, never once looking back.

You stood there, arms wrapping around yourself, watching the red glow of his taillights as he pulled out of the driveway and disappeared down the road.

And then—you turned, crossed your arms tighter, and fixed Ben with a glare.

"What the hell was that?"

Ben didn’t answer right away.

He just… looked at you. Really looked. His eyes dragged over your bare legs, the hem of your dress, the soft slope of your throat, the lingering flushed heat of almost being kissed. His gaze swept slow, unhurried, deliberate, before finally settling on your face.

And his nostrils flared.

You shifted your weight to one leg, your jaw tightening, mirroring the way he stood, meeting him with a glare of your own.

And then—he scoffed.

"Get your ass inside," he muttered, stepping past you, brushing against your shoulder as he did, bigger than you, overwhelming in a way that made your stomach twist. "Before I tell your old man you were about to let some lanky fuckin’ two-pump chump feel you up on the doorstep like you’re easy or somethin’."

You bristled. Your whole body went rigid, something inside you snapping.

"If I didn’t know any better," you bit back, sharp, breathless, "I’d think you were jealous or something."

Not your wisest choice.

Because Ben went still. Not in a way that meant hesitation. Not in a way that meant denial. No—he stilled like a predator hearing its prey snap a twig.

Then—he moved.

Not fast. Not aggressive. Just deliberate. Slow. Unavoidable.

Stepping forward, backing you up against the frame of the doorway, dipping his head down just enough so his mouth was level with yours, so his voice coiled low and hot in the air between you.

"I don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight," he murmured, so quiet, so rough, "but it sure as shit better not be that fuckin’ pussy’s fingers."

You gasped. Your body locked up, breath hitching, eyes going wide.

And Ben just smirked.

Like he liked that reaction. Like he had wanted it.

Then—he straightened. Stepped back like nothing had happened.

"Better get upstairs, get into your comfies," he muttered, voice gruff, unreadable. "Come watch the football with me ‘n your dad. Or I’ll take you over my fuckin’ knee for the backtalk."

Your breath shuddered. You nodded. Wordless. Weak. Then you turned, stepping inside, feeling the weight of his eyes on your back as you headed upstairs—

And you knew.

You knew that nothing about tonight had been normal. That something between you had shifted. Twisted. Changed.

You took your time.

Stripping out of your sundress, pulling on one of your dad’s old t-shirts—soft, worn, faded, the fabric thin from years of washes, hanging loose over your frame. Bare legs, bare feet against the cool wood floors as you splashed cold water over your face, washing away the night.

Washing away Ben’s words. Or at least, trying to.

But they sat heavy in your head. The way he had looked at you. The low scrape of his voice, the bite of it, the way your whole body had locked up at the filth that had dripped from his mouth.

"It sure as shit better not be that fuckin’ pussy’s fingers."

You shuddered, inhaled deep, let the cold burn of the water centre you before heading downstairs.

The game was still on when you walked back into the living room, your dad and Ben both where you had left them—sprawled out, half a beer deep, yelling at the screen like the players could actually hear them.

Ben saw you first.

His eyes flicked over you, quick, assessing, then—that nod. That slow, subtle nod to himself, like he was fucking appraising you. Like you were something to be measured, studied, cataloged.

You ignored the way it made your stomach twist.

Instead, your dad’s attention finally snapped toward you, and his brow furrowed.

"I been wonderin’ where the hell that shirt went," he muttered.

You just grinned, gave a smug little shrug, before nudging his leg with your bare foot, signaling for him to move over.

"Looks better on me, anyway."

Your dad snorted. "The hell it does." Then, before you could flop onto the couch, he smacked your foot away. "Grab a couple more beers before you park your ass."

You rolled your eyes, but did as you were told, gripping the hem of the t-shirt and curtseying, voice sickly sweet.

"Yes, sir."

Then you saluted him, just to really drive it home.

"Fuckin’ wiseass," he muttered.

Ben just chuckled, deep in his throat, like he was trying not to laugh.

You disappeared into the kitchen, grabbed three beers, popped the caps off, and pressed two of them against your chest as you sipped from the one in your free hand, the glass cold against your skin.

By the time you returned, the game had picked up speed, your dad too distracted to care when you plopped the bottles down on the coffee table and threw yourself onto the couch between them.

"Could have moved your lazy ass, y’know," you muttered.

Your dad just scoffed, didn’t look away from the screen.

But Ben?

Ben side-eyed you, slow and heavy, and when he spoke—you felt it.

"Keep up the cheek, Lamby, and I’ll take that beer off you."

Your fingers tightened around the bottle.

"Don’t know what the fuck you’re so cocky about," he muttered, tipping his own beer to his lips, voice just this side of gruff. "Stealin’ one of my beers like I gave you any kinda permission to."

Your stomach flipped. But you didn’t let it show. You just sighed, long-suffering, exaggerated as hell, before taking another slow, deliberate sip, the bubbles sharp against your tongue.

And then—you settled. Leaning back, letting yourself sink between them, wedged in the space you’d claimed a thousand times before.

Except this time, it was different. Because this time, you felt Ben. Felt the heat of him, so close, so solid, so unignorable. And it took everything in you not to shiver.

Because even if you were watching the game—

He was watching you.

The game rolled on, the low drone of the commentators mixing with the occasional grumble, scoff, or sharp curse from your dad or Ben. You sat nursing your beer, the bottle cold between your palms, the sharp bite of it against your tongue as you stared at the screen, more focused on the way the room shifted around you than on the game itself.

Your dad was getting tired. You could tell.

He tried to pretend he wasn’t—hiding yawns behind his bottle, stretching in that slow, lazy way that meant his body was giving up on the night before his mind was.

You, on the other hand, were stretching out more. Slow. Casual. Your bare feet crossed at the ankles, propped up on the coffee table, legs long and catching the glint of the TV, skin warm under the flickering glow.

And Ben noticed.

You felt it, even if he didn’t say a word. Instead, he reached for his cigarettes, shaking the pack once before holding it out toward your dad.

Your father just waved a lazy hand, shaking his head. "Not for me, but might as well light one up in here. Don’t drag your ass outside on my account."

Ben just nodded. Grunted. Then—he lit up, fingers steady, bringing the cigarette to his mouth, holding it between his lips as he inhaled, slow and deep.

The scent hit you instantly—smoke and something deeper, something heavy and masculine, something that made the air feel too thick.

Then your dad yawned—loud and unrestrained.

"Shit, I’m beat," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "You’ll gimme a ring tomorrow or somethin’, tell me how it ends?"

Ben just grunted again, smoke curling from his mouth as he nodded.

Your dad turned to you next. "Lock up after him when he heads out, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah," you murmured, waving him off.

He just rolled his eyes before disappearing upstairs.

And then—it was just you and Ben.

You went to shift over, to slide into your father’s now-empty spot, but—

Ben clicked his tongue.

Your breath hitched.

Not because of the sound—but because he didn’t even look at you when he did it. Just sat there, lips still wrapped around his smoke, one arm swinging lazily over the back of the couch, his whole posture relaxed, commanding.

"Stay put."

So you did.

But the shift in weight, the pull of gravity, had you falling into his side—your shoulder brushing up against the heat of his broad chest, pressing up into the space right under his arm.

And that was when it hit you.

The smell of him.

The mix of soap, sweat, beer, and smoke, clinging to his skin, wrapping around you like a hand at the base of your neck. It made your head feel light, your skin too tight, your thighs press together just a little too much.

You took a sip of your beer, trying to steady yourself, trying to act normal.

And then—without really thinking, without really meaning to—you turned to him.

"Can I have a puff?"

He scoffed. Didn’t answer right away. But that was fine, because you were already reaching up, already plucking the cigarette from his lips, bringing it to your own before he could stop you.

And when you took a slow, deep drag, before reaching up and placing it right back between his lips—

The eye contact?

Was fucking unbearable.

The kind of slow, steady hold that made the air thick and stifling, the kind that felt like something physical pressing against your chest.

Your lips curled into a slow, shit-eating grin. And then—you exhaled. Blew the smoke right into his face.

Ben didn’t move. Didn’t react. Not at first.

Just let the smoke roll between you, let the weight of it settle as he stared right into you, eyes heavy-lidded, dark, unreadable.

And then—he smirked, slow and knowing, that cocky, heavy-lidded thing that made your breath hitch even though you refused to let it show.

"You’re fuckin’ trouble."

You just smiled, all sweetness and venom, voice syrupy smooth.

"Learned from the best."

His expression twitched—just a fraction. He let out a slow breath, dragging a hand down his face, before finally pulling the cigarette from his lips. His fingers curled around it loosely, letting the smoke rise, twisting in slow tendrils toward the ceiling.

Then—his voice dropped.

"Nah."

His eyes dragged down over you, slow, tracking every inch. His gaze stopped at your thighs, where your dad’s old t-shirt had ridden up, baring just a little too much of your skin.

Then lower. Down your legs, down to your feet.

"I mean it," he murmured, voice gravel, something heavier lurking beneath it. "You are trouble."

Your mouth went a little dry. But you tilted your chin up anyway, feigning innocence.

"Oh yeah?"

He hummed, a slow, lazy sound, before shifting in his seat.

"Didn’t like the way you looked at me earlier."

That threw you. Your brow furrowed, beer bottle cooling between your palms.

"What?"

His jaw ticked. He flicked the cigarette into the ashtray, exhaling through his nose.

"After that little cocksucker left," he muttered, voice low, cutting, "you looked at me with a sharp little glare. Didn’t fuckin’ like it. Not one bit."

That made your lips twitch.

"Maybe that’s because you were acting like an overbearing ass."

The moment the words left your mouth—

His palm cracked against your bare thigh.

Not hard. Not painful. But sharp. Sudden. Enough to make you yelp. Your whole body jerked, legs snapping together, feet moving off the coffee table—

But before you could fully pull away—

Ben grabbed them. Big hands, rough hands, curling around your ankles as he shifted you in one easy movement, and the momentum sent you falling back against the arm of the couch, spine hitting the worn fabric, breath catching in your throat.

By the time you realised what had just happened—your feet were pinned in his lap. And he was staring at you. Sharp. Knowing. Unreadable.

Your stomach flipped. You squinted at him, eyes narrowing in accusation, your body already on edge, already tense. Because you knew. You knew exactly where this was going.

And Ben knew you knew.

His smirk shifted—turned into something smug as fucking sin. And then, he moved. His free hand dragged along the sole of your foot, fingers skimming, featherlight. A slow, deliberate touch.

Your whole body jolted.

"Ben—"

His fingers danced over your skin again, dragging across the arch of your foot—and you burst into laughter. Sharp, breathless, uncontrollable.

"Shove off, you big asshole—"

He only chuckled, voice gruff, satisfied.

"Better keep your fuckin’ voice down," he muttered, pinning your feet harder, his other hand relentless as he tickled along your soles, grinning as you squirmed. "Or your old man’s gonna come down and bust some heads."

You tried to snap your foot back, tried to twist away, but he was too strong, too big, too fucking relentless.

"Dad’s snoring like two bears having a fight up there—" you gasped between giggled curses, thrashing uselessly. "Not even a nuclear blast’d wake him right now—"

Ben let out a bark of laughter.

"Christ," he muttered, still grinning, his fingers raking over your skin again, making you kick and writhe. "You got a fuckin’ mouth on you."

You writhed in his grip, half-giggling, half-breathless, your muscles burning from the struggle as he pinned your feet down like it was nothing. Like you weighed nothing.

"Gonna fucking kill you," you gasped, still kicking uselessly, your ribs aching from the laughter that you hated, that you didn’t want to be enjoying as much as you were.

"Oh yeah?" Ben drawled, voice low, amused, unbothered as hell. "You ‘n what army, Lamby?"

Your frustration surged, and before you could think—before you could talk yourself out of it—

You got a leg free.

And with one smooth, defiant movement, you lifted your knee, stretched your leg out, and pressed your toes against his jaw, pushing his face away.

"This one," you muttered, breathless, still flushed from the tickling.

And for a second, everything stopped. Because Ben froze, his fingers locked around your ankle, catching it before you could pull away, holding it there.

And then—his gaze dragged down your leg. Slow. Deliberate. Lazy in the way that only meant he was taking his time.

You felt it.

Felt his touch, felt the way his fingers tightened, felt the way his eyes swept over your thigh, over your skin, the places where your dad’s old t-shirt had ridden up, the hem curled high from how you’d been squirming—

And then, he saw.

His stare landed on the place between your thighs, on the thin, soft fabric of your panties, barely visible from the angle you were sitting at.

And your entire body lit on fire. Your stomach plummeted, heat spreading up your spine, over your chest, over your face, until you felt like you were glowing under his gaze, burning under it.

And Ben sucked in a sharp breath.

One second. Two.

Then, suddenly, violently, he shoved your leg back down, his fingers gripping too tight for a beat too long before letting go.

He sat up straighter, bracing his elbows on his knees, reaching for his beer like it was the only thing in the room that made sense.

The bottle tipped against his lips. He took a long pull, his throat working, his jaw tight, his whole body stiff.

You just stared at him. Stared at the way his shoulders rose and fell, the way his fingers twitched against the glass, the way he muttered something too low to catch, barely audible under his breath.

And you wanted.

You wanted so fucking bad—

To crawl into his lap, to trace the sharp edge of his jaw, to tangle your fingers in his hair, pull, make him look at you the way you needed him to.

Because he looked so fucking good like this. Like a mountain of a man, big and broad and sturdy, something you wanted to climb, sink onto, plant your flag in.

Your fingers tightened around your own beer bottle.

You tipped it back, taking a long drink, letting the liquid burn its way down, grounding yourself, steadying yourself.

Then—without a word—you shifted, leaning forward to set the bottle on the table, before settling back into your new spot.

Your feet still in his lap.

Ben didn’t react. Didn’t flinch at the contact, didn’t shove you off. He just watched the game. And after a moment, his hand—big, warm, heavy—started rubbing absentmindedly over the arch of your foot.

The game had all but faded into background noise.

The occasional roar of the commentators, the distant sounds of the crowd—none of it mattered. Not when his hands were on you. Not when he had been absently kneading his thumbs into the arch of your foot for the last ten minutes, rolling slow circles into your skin, his grip firm, practiced, easy.

You could feel the rough heat of his callouses, the way they pressed just right, the way his fingers flexed, working the tension out of your muscles like it was second nature.

And he wasn’t even thinking about it.

That was the best part.

Ben was just sitting there, cigarette balanced between his lips, rubbing slow, absentminded strokes over your skin while he watched the game, like he hadn’t once stopped to consider how fucked this was.

So you smirked.

"Let me bum one."

His fingers paused. Then—a glare. Sharp, lazy, warning.

"Cut it with the fuckin’ lip."

But you weren’t done. You tilted your head, batting your lashes, voice turning syrupy-sweet.

"Oh, come on, Uncle Ben..."

That made his jaw clench.

"Let me bum one," you pressed, pouting, teasing, just to see how far you could push. "You know you wanna."

And then, just to twist the knife—

"Corrupt me a little bit."

That did it.

Ben sucked in a sharp breath, something dark flickering through his eyes, his whole shoulders locking up—

And then his cigarette fell. Right into his lap.

"Shit—!"

He jerked upright, cussing, ash scattering over his jeans, pushing your feet off his thighs, slapping at the embers, brushing at the fabric as he snatched up the cigarette and stubbed it out fast in the ashtray.

You should have felt bad. You didn’t. Because you saw it. The shape of him. The press of something thick and stiff against his thigh. And suddenly—your whole body went hot. Because you weren’t imagining it. He was affected.

You were getting to him.

Your stomach coiled tight with satisfaction, your pulse thudding at the base of your throat, and you barely even thought before you moved.

You sat up slow, shifting forward, reaching for the cigarette in the ashtray, fingers just about to brush it when—

Ben’s hand shot out. Grabbed your wrist. His grip was strong. Firm. Tight enough to hold you in place, but not tight enough to hurt.

And when you turned to look at him, his face was dark. His eyes were on fire.

"Fuckin' quit it," he muttered, voice rough, almost wrecked, something like threat and warning and desperate restraint all tangled together.

And then, just low enough that it sent heat licking down your spine—

"Or I’ll tan your fuckin’ ass and send you up to your bed snifflin’ and sobbin’ like you fuckin’ deserve."

Your breath hitched. The air between you thickened.

His fingers burned into your wrist, his body coiled tight, his chest rising and falling just a little too hard, a little too sharp.

And you? You should have backed down. You should have apologised, pulled away, let the moment die.

But instead—

You just tilted your head, blinked up at him with wide, mock-innocent eyes, voice so quiet it could have almost been sweet.

"Promise?"

Ben went still. Not stiff. Not tense. Just—still. Like a predator right before it pounced.

And you felt it—the moment he cracked. The moment you broke him.

Ben didn’t say anything. Not at first. He just sat back, spine sinking into the couch, exhaling slow and deep through his nose, his fingers still wrapped tight around your wrist.

Then—he shifted. His body sprawled wider, his legs spreading, one arm draping across the back of the sofa, his whole presence turning into something vast and unavoidable, taking up space like he was daring you to crawl into it.

And he patted his lap.

"C’mere."

Your breath stuttered. You should have hesitated. You should have played coy, drawn it out, but you didn’t. You scrambled. Too fast. Too eager. Hands bracing against his shoulders, knees pressing to the outside of his thighs, you climbed into his lap, straddling him, settling into the space he had made for you.

And fuck—he was warm. Solid. Unshakable beneath you. His hands landed on your bare thighs, big and hot, fingers spreading, gripping you just enough to make you feel held.

And then—his eyes lifted to yours.

"You," he murmured, voice low, steady, edged with something raw, "are workin’ my last fuckin’ nerve."

You grinned. Syrupy-sweet, saccharine, the kind of smile that could make a saint burn alive.

"I’m happy to work something else, if you want."

The slap came fast. Sharp. Sudden. His palm cracked against your thigh, just enough to make you jolt, your breath hitching, your fingers tightening where they had settled against his chest.

"Where the hell’s this fuckin’ attitude come from?" He muttered, jaw tight, eyes dark, heavy.

You shrugged, playing at innocence, eyes lidded, mouth curling.

"Dunno." Another shrug, slow, deliberate. "Probably frustration."

That made him squint. Accusing. Waiting. Expecting.

So you tilted your head, batting your lashes, voice dropping into something honey-thick and dangerous.

"I mean…" A pause. A breath. A glance down at his lips before dragging your eyes back up to his. "You ever thought about how hard it’s been for me?"

He didn’t blink.

"Enlighten me."

You leaned in just a fraction, your fingers smoothing over his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath, the warmth of his skin even through his shirt.

"How I’ve had to spend the last few years," you murmured, voice soft, feigning confession, "watching you walk around with your tight shirts, and your big arms, and that beautiful fucking hair and beard that could give a saint bad thoughts."

Ben huffed. Lips parting, breath sharp, eyes dragging over your face like he was looking for something. Then—his fingers squeezed, pressing into your thighs, holding you just a little tighter.

"One to fuckin’ talk," he muttered.

Your stomach flipped.

"Oh yeah?"

Ben scoffed. And then—he let it out.

"Had to put up with you swayin’ around in those little cut-offs—"

His hands slid higher, fingers flexing just beneath the hem of your dad’s t-shirt, thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

"—watchin’ your ass eat ‘em up every time you walked away from me—"

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

"—legs on fuckin’ show, flutterin’ those big eyes at me like you’re fixin’ to get fuckin’ stuffed."

Your whole body flushed with heat. You sucked in a breath, sharp, uneven, lips parting before your tongue darted out, wetting them.

And then—you mock-gasped. Eyes wide, voice soft, laced with something insidious.

"You’re my godfather," you whispered, tilting your head, watching him twitch at the words. "You’re having impure thoughts about me?"

Ben exhaled hard. His grip tightened—just for a second, just long enough to send a pulse between your thighs. Then he groaned. Long. Frustrated. Dropped his head back against the sofa, dragging a rough hand down his face, looking up at the ceiling like he was praying for salvation that wasn’t coming.

And then—his voice. Low. Wrecked. Raw.

"Christ on a cross."

A breath. A sigh.

"Don’t fuckin’ remind me. Your old man’d fuckin' kill me."

Ben’s voice was low, rough, edged with something like guilt—but not enough of it to stop him. His fingers flexed against your thighs, thumbs brushing higher, the pads of them teasing dangerously close to where you wanted him most.

"If he knew the kinda shit I’ve been thinkin’ about you since you turned eighteen—"

Your stomach flipped. Your breath caught, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your whole body going hot at the admission.

Since you turned eighteen. Since you’d beenlegal. Since the world had decided you were fair fucking game.

You gasped, mock-shocked, but real heat licking through your veins.

"What kinda stuff?"

Ben stilled. For a second, he just looked at you, his green eyes burning, pinning you in place. And then, low, quiet, wrecked—

"Stuff that makes me feel like a fuckin’ pervert."

Your stomach dropped. Your whole body tightened, throbbed, ached. And then you laughed. Low. Sweet. Dangerous.

"I’ll show you mine if you show me yours."

Ben grunted, his grip tightening on your thighs, squeezing, pressing.

You tilted your head, grinning down at him, teasing, watching the way his jaw flexed, the way his fingers itched to grab you harder.

"I’ve been thinking about you when I touch myself."

He groaned. His head tipped back, his whole chest rising and falling too fast, too sharp.

Your hands slid up his chest, nails scraping lightly over fabric, feeling the way his body locked up beneath you.

"I think about how your hands would feel between my legs," you whispered.

Another grunt. A sharp inhale, his fingers twitching, his grip bruising, branding.

Your breath shuddered, your body buzzing, your mind spinning with the filth of it all. But you weren’t done.

"I wonder if you’d let me sit on your face."

His whole body went rigid.

"Wonder if I’d feel that nice, clean beard between my thighs—"

Ben rutted up into you.

A sharp, unconscious thrust, his cock pressing up through denim and cotton, so fucking solid that you felt it pulse against you.

You gasped. Your fingers dug into his chest, your whole body throbbing.

But then—his head snapped back up. His eyes met yours again. Dark. Hungry. And then his lips curled.

"You wanna talk about confessions?"

You swallowed, hard.

"Few months back."

His hands slid lower.

"Stole a pair of your panties outta the bathroom."

Your heart stopped. Your breath hitched, caught in your throat, pulse hammering between your ribs.

"Pretty little pink ones," he murmured, low, knowing, like he was fucking testing you. "Little bows on the sides."

You gasped.

"I’ve been looking for those—!"

His smirk deepened. Then—he rolled his hips into you again. The pressure made you whimper, made your head drop forward, your forehead nearly brushing against his.

"You ain’t gettin’ ‘em back."

Your stomach coiled, tight and hot and pulsing.

"Been using ‘em."

Your fingers curled into his shirt, knuckles going white.

"At first, just sniffin’."

Your whole body burned.

"Then the scent went."

Your nails dug into him.

"So I started usin’ ‘em to jerk off."

A sound escaped you, something breathless, wrecked.

His smirk turned downright wicked.

"Not a trace of your scent left in ‘em now, Lamby."

He ground up into you harder, your panties soaked, pressed against the thick ridge of him through his jeans.

"They’re mine now."

You whimpered. Writhed. Because fuck. He was just as wrecked for you as you were for him. And now—neither of you could take it back.

You shouldn’t have said it. You knew it was cruel, knew it was the final fucking push, knew it was only going to break him more—

But you said it anyway.

"If I’d known that sooner," you purred, voice silky, sinful, designed to ruin him, "I would’ve left more out for you."

Ben groaned. Deep, guttural, wrecked, his fingers clamping tight around your thighs as he dragged you along his cock. Slow. Deliberate. Heavy. The ridge of him pressed up against your cunt through your soaked panties, denim rough, thick, a perfect contrast to the slick heat between your thighs.

"You’re a fuckin’ menace," he muttered, gritting his teeth, his hips shifting up just enough to make you gasp. "Been temptin’ me too much."

You gasped. Let your nails scratch over his chest, let your mouth part into a mock-pout, breathless, needy.

"That’s not fair."

Ben huffed, blinking hard, like he was trying not to look at your lips.

"What’s not fair?" he muttered, voice gruff, strained, thick with restraint.

"Knowing I’ve been batting my lashes at you—" you breathed, voice sickly sweet, ruined, eager, "and you’ve been stringing me along."

His fingers twitched.

"Not giving in."

His thighs tensed under yours.

"Not giving me what I deserve."

The slap came sharp. Not as hard as before, but closer. Higher. Right at the crease of your thigh, just barely missing where you wanted it most.

Your whole body jolted. Your breath hitched. Your nails dug into his shoulders, clinging to him.

And then—his voice.

"If I gave you what you deserved," he muttered, voice low, deep, dangerous, a fucking promise, "you wouldn’t be walkin’ right for a week."

A slow, agonising pause.

"And your dad’d know it was me."

Your stomach dropped. A full-body shiver ran down your spine, curling at the base, settling between your thighs. Your fingers twisted in his shirt. Your mouth parted, a small, helpless sound escaping before you could stop it.

And Ben?

Ben felt it. He heard it. And it made him fucking crazy.

"You scared my date off earlier," you gasped, voice small, teasing, ruined. "You owe me now."

Ben’s jaw clenched.

"Should at least make up for it," you whispered, barely any breath behind it, "by letting me touch your cock."

He cursed. Low. Filthy. His fingers dug into your thighs, a full-body shudder raking down his spine, his chest rising and falling like he was barely holding himself together.

Then—his eyes snapped to yours. Dark. Sharp. Unforgiving.

"You sure?"

The words came gritted, strained, wrecked.

You nodded. Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t second guess. Just nodded. And that was it. That was the final straw.

Ben moved fast.

His hand shot up your thigh, rough and unhesitating, fingers hooking under your panties, yanking them to the side—

And then he was inside you. Two thick fingers, stretching you, filling you, sinking to the knuckle in one sharp, devastating push.

You gasped, body arching, your forehead nearly bumping into his.

Ben groaned. His other hand snapped up, tangled into your hair, gripping the back of your neck, pulling you down, down, down—

And then—

He kissed you. Hard. Desperate. Ruining. His mouth slotted over yours like it belonged there, like he had been starving for it, like he couldn’t fucking breathe without it.

His fingers plunged deep, curling, pressing up against the spot that made you quake, made you whimper right into his mouth.

"Keep your fuckin’ voice down," he muttered against your lips, licking into you, filthy, hot, deep.

You moaned, soft, helpless, rocking into his fingers, clenching down on them, your breath shuddering, uneven, wrecked.

"That’s it," he breathed, groaning, his teeth catching your bottom lip, tugging, biting.

His hand tightened at the back of your neck, holding you in place, keeping you locked against him.

"You’re a soaked little thing, huh?"

You whimpered.

He dragged his fingers deeper.

"All this for me?"

Another groan, another thrust of his fingers, sharper this time, rougher, working you open.

"Fuckin’ hell," he rasped, swallowing your moans, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, groaning as he sucked, wet and hot and desperate.

His tongue slid past your lips, licked into you, a full-bodied claim, filthy, unrelenting.

And you—

You couldn’t think.

You could only cling to him, whimper into his mouth, lose yourself in the feeling of his fingers inside you, wrecking you, coaxing you closer to something you’d never felt before.

@mostlymarvelgirl <3

[iheartsophie]

Surprise!!

Harry Lewis (W2S) x Fem!Reader (3.6k words)

Summary: Reader surprises Harry during the Sidemen’s “$20,000 VS $200 HOLIDAY” after not seeing eachother for a month

Warnings: Swearing, PDA, small panic attack, NOT PROOF READ!!!!

Author note: i linked “I Got U” as a song because i feel like that is the most summer feeling song i know and im missing summer rn

So a bit of backstory, Josh has planned a $20,000 vs $200 holiday an he called me around two weeks ago asking if I would join in the video and surprise Harry as well as the other lads- of course I said yes! I’ve currently been away on a business trip for the past month and I haven’t been able to see Harry, the only way I’ve seen him is on FaceTime which isn’t the same as seeing and hearing his voice in person. Every week when the boys have been recording they’ve secretly been messaging me and sending me photos of Harry moping around and complaining about how he won’t see me for an extra week due to the holiday video. The only people who do know are Josh, Kon, Kirsty, Cal and Freezy. Cal and Freezy are also tagging along to surprise the boys.

As soon as my last business meeting was over I rushed out of the doors and directly onto the train home because I needed to pack as soon as possible because I would not have time to in the morning because Mr. Josh Zerkaa decided to book the earliest flight in existence, Cal and Freezy were fine with it; me on the other hand, I was fuming… because that means I’m missing out on my beauty sleep!

(The night before surprising Harry… )

After the excruciatingly long train ride from Manchester to London I was finally back home at mine and Harry’s shared apartment, it was weird walking in through the doors and not having Harry greet me at the door was a hug and a kiss.. but I reminded myself I would be in the same country as him in just short of 17 hours. I headed towards our bedroom and threw on some pjs which consisted of one of Harry’s t shirts and some shorts. Packing was a nightmare, let’s just put it that way. I had not been on holiday in so long and I had forgotten how stressful it is making sure you have enough necessities to last you the time you’re away and also making sure you have not forgotten anything… So I just grabbed all of my clothes that were in my “summer side” of the wardrobe and tried to stuff it into one suitcase and that did not work, so I ended up with two family sized suitcases almost bursting at the seams full of my things.

As soon as I had finished packing I went to make a quick pot noodle in the microwave as I knew I wouldn’t tend to the dishes in the morning and I don’t want to come back to messy dishes after the holiday and I definitely don’t think Harry would either. As I was eating my pot noodle my phone started buzzing, I looked at the contact “Bog 💙” - I answered straight away

(Italic- Harry)

“Hello (y/n/n)”

“Hiya babe you okay? How’s the trip so far?”

“Could be better… The trip is alright , I’m on the good team so that’s good I guess, could be better if you were here”

“Aww I’m missing you too, don’t get yourself down love, only 5 more days left! Then you’ll be back home and we can go see that movie you wanted to see if you’re up for it”

“I know and of course I want to go to the movie are you mad! My all time favourite movie franchise ever”

(I giggled as I heard JJ, Tobi and Josh in the background telling harry to get off the phone and go to the sauna with them)

I shouted down the phone

“Oi you lot shut your mouth we are talking over here! Anyways, I best get going I need to call Cal and Freezy to make sure they’re up and ready early in the morning tomorrow”

Shit, I’ve slipped up…

Harry frowned at me through the phone

“What do you mean? Why do you need to do that?”

What do I say? Think y/n. Think!

“Oh! Did I not tell you? We’re going on a hike tomorrow, yeah! To the Lake District?”

“Ohhh okay, yeah best let you go then. Love you!”

“Love you too, bye!”

That was close… I can’t believe that just happened. How did I manage that? Anyways, I put my empty pot noodle in the bin and put the fork in the dishwasher to deal with later. I went into the bathroom and completed my night routine and got into bed, and quickly messaged Cal and Freezy to have their alarms set and where we will meet at the airport in the morning. Soon after that I dozed off…

(Time skip to the getting off the train)

As I was getting off the train I got a message from harry:

“Bog 💙: Have a nice day with the boys, please don’t push them off the mountain🙏, love you”

I sent a quick message back:

“I’ll try my hardest, love you too”

I somehow bumped into Cal and Freezy at the train station instead of at the airport, they both brought their cameras to get footage of us on the way their so the editors can put it in and we have our own little segments in the video. “Look who we have here…” Cal teased, “Mrs. Harry Lewis”. “Not a mrs yet, I’m still waiting” I corrected while holding up my left hand beholding my empty ring finger. After that small segment they put their cameras away and we caught a taxi and made our way to the airport. Getting out of the taxi was a struggle not for the boys, just for me, because of my two huge suitcases it was hard trying to pick them up and out of the boot of the taxi. And instead of the boys ,who are meant to be like brothers to me, helping me get them out they just filmed me while laughing in the background and caught a clip of my tripping over the suitcase which was behind me. “You’re both such dicks, wait till I tell Harry”, “What is Harry going to do? Cause I can bet you £100 right here that he will laugh too.”

We finally made track down the road to the airport and Freezy started filming a little bit with Cal next to him and me behind them still struggling with my suitcases, which you can imagine is causing me some unneeded anger. “As you can see y/n finally got her suitcases out and we are on the way to the best holiday, we are going to the best destination. Thank you sidemen for this holiday, we really appreciate it”, “Bro you’re such an arse licker, you just want to be on the good team if you’re invited again!” I pointed out, Cal turned around to me “Now, now, y/n don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same thing.” I stayed silent and they both laughed.

“We are on our way to meet- surprise them, they have no idea that we’re going I’ve been playing tricks with Harry all week, y/n told us that she nearly slipped up on the plan”, “I didn’t mean to! I feel so bad lying to him, he told me to have a good day in the Lake District and to message him when we get there.. he’s going to be so worried when I don’t message him.”

(Time skip to when we’re in the airport)

Poor Cal is not having a good time, he’s left his phone on the train and now his bag has been chosen for a search and I know this isn’t about me but I just want to get on that plane now, and all of this messing about is causing me to stress so bad and I can’t talk to harry about it because it will give away our secret so I just keep to myself and put my headphones on.

We’re finally on the plane, at last! But the only problem is I haven’t told the boys I’m scared because whenever I’m on a plane I’m usually with Harry and he can just sense my worry and comforts me without me having to tell him or ask him to. Though only Freezy is aware because of when I went skiing with him and Harry and started crying when that plane took off. When plane started to move my breathing started to pick up and I leat my elbows on my knees and looked down. Unbeknownst to me Cal and Freezy looked at each other over my body and mouthed to eachother “Is she alright?” Cal asked, “She’s terrified of flying” Freezy pointed out. Freezy tapped my shoulder for me to look at him and when I did he opened his arms for me to go into and he hugged me while I cried into his shoulder, and whilst I did he was rubbing my back and trying to soothe me the best he could.

It took me a few minutes to calm down and when I did Cal let me watch a movie on his laptop, which lasted almost the whole flight. We finally landed and all three of us made sure we turned out locations of for the boys, whilst we were doing that all the messages that didn’t send because we were on the plane we’re coming through, all of mine were from Harry and a few of the boys..

Bog💙: message me when you arrive so I know you got there safely x

Bog💙: and don’t forget to tell me if Cal slips up the hill again

Bog💙 hello? It’s been 3 hours now surely you’re almost there by now

Bog💙: why aren’t my messages going through are you okay?

Bog💙: babe please tell me you’re okay

Tobi: Harry’s freaking out are you okay? Please let us know

JJ: Fam what are you playing at, are you alr??

(Time skip to getting to the harbour)

I quickly replied to them all reassuring them I’m okay and that I forgot about telling Harry I arrived. Josh messaged us to tell us to meet at the harbour with our suitcases because we can leave them on the yacht when we get to it. So while we were waiting for Josh to get here we found a British bar and we ordered a nice English breakfast each, though while we were waiting I went to the bathroom and got changed into a bikini and put some denim shorts over the top and some of my nice sandals on. We finished our breakfast and Josh arrived outside the bar.

Josh took us to the yacht they had rented and where we were going to surprise the boys, and we chose were we were hiding and a code word Josh will say for when we were to jump out which was “chips”, though they told me to come out a little bit later as an extra EXTRA surprise for harry. Cal and Freezy hid behind the seat were the wheel was and I was at the bottom of the stairs on the lower deck, enough to hear Josh but also enough so Tobi, JJ, and harry walk last and don’t suspect anything.

Everything was in place and ready to go. Now we were just waiting and anticipating the boys’ arrival. Josh mumbled that he could see the boys and I slightly looked over the steps to make sure Cal and Freezy were hidden and I couldn’t see them so I did I little nod to myself and ducked back down because they finally listened to something for once. I could started to hear the boys, I could hear Tobi repeating “you’re a king, you’re a king” to Josh and JJ saying “oh my god” and the nervous laugh I could recognise anywhere, harry. I started to get butterflies in my belly coming to terms that I’m seeing harry for the first time in a while.

“I’m buzzing to eat these chips”

All you could hear on the yacht was cheering and laughing. And Harry’s infamous screams. All the boys ran to hug each other and tackled each other. When it all calmed down Harry went silent as if piecing things together, “Whats the matter Harry?” Tobi questioned, “If Cal and Freezy are here, where’s y/n then?” and I took that as my queue to come up the stairs with a tray of drinks. “Hello? Special delivery” ( yes when I was in the lower deck I found the bar and made everyone drinks) Harry just stood up and stared at me, while Tobi and JJ ran up to me, I was quick to put the drinks on the closets surface to save them from being spilt everywhere. I welcomed Tobi and JJ with a hug. When they let go Harry had finally took it all in and realised I was here and ran towards me and tackled me onto the large sofa and gave me the biggest hug and repeating how much he had missed me.

The boys went up to the other side of the boat to give me and Harry some space to speak a bit and catch up, I told him about how my business meeting went well and how my brand is expanding and he was telling me about how the shoots were. We sat in comfortable silence after our conversation and I looked down at his legs and realised he was wearing sweat shorts and frowned, “You know I don’t think those are the best shorts to swim in”, “Don’t worry I’ve got some swim trunks with me”, “Where?”, He reached to his shoulder to prove that he has them and that they’re slung over his shoulder, I started laughing “I think you’ve flung them off the boat in excitement. We both looked over the side of the boat and low and behold there they were, bobbing along in the water. “Oh for fucks sake”

(Time skip)

It was soon time to have a bit of a feast on the boat me and harry sat next to eachother. Cal, Freezy and I weren’t that hungry considering about an hour and a half ago we had a full English, so we just stuck to some picky bits. There were many laughs and stories exchanged at the table mainly questions towards me cal and Freezy about how long we knew about this and how I managed to keep it a secret from harry.

Josh excused himself from the table to answer a phone call from Ethan which we all predicted was him complaint about the conditions he was currently in, we all told Josh to put it on speaker phone so we could hear his complaints and we were all creasing in laughter, at one point I wheezed which all the boys could recognise anywhere. Ethan picked up on it and shouted down the phone “Oi! Was that y/n? What the fuck, traitor! You said you would never go to the good team.” , “I fear you heard me wrong Behz, I said “I would never go to the good team if you were on it” “, my answers errupted in laughter and screams of shock from the boys. I then left and walked away to go a sunbathe and enjoy myself for a while.

With my headphones on and music playing I spent at least an hour sunbathing, unaware of the carnage going on around me. So when I took my headphones off and heard screaming and jet ski engines blaring I was very confused of how they did all this without disturbing me. I got up out of the deck chair and the whole top deck was soaked in wet foot prints and discarded towels, I watched over the side of the boat as the boys were jumping into the deep blue sea. Though all of a sudden I heard wet feet plodding behind me and I turned around to harry creeping up on me. “Harry, no!” “What are you talking about? I’m not going to do anything” I was then picked up and thrown into the water, harry still clinging onto me, “Harold! Why would you do that!” I scolded. “Just helping you cool off,” he shrugged. While all this happened the boys were looking down at us pointing and laughing.

I stayed in the ocean for a while until they started circling me with jet skis and trying to peer pressure me into going on the surf board, which i declined straight away and also the fact I was getting tired from the travelling and then sun beaming down on me. So I climbed back up the ladder and propped a nice parasol up to give me some shade and I decided to have a nap. A couple of minutes later I was woken up by Harry sitting next to me, “Why aren’t you laying down?” I asked, “I didn’t want to wake you and get you wet because you’ve seemed to have dried off and caught the sun already!”, “Don’t be silly come here.” I told him and opened my arms for him to cuddle into, and I started to play with his wet and tousled hair which he hummed in reply to. We both dozed off in each others hold, I did hear a camera shutter near by though I thought nothing of it a just thought it was Kirsty taking pictures of the boys on the jet skis. I jolted awake when I felt this large weight on top of my body and opened my eyes to see all the boys piling on top of me and harry, “what are you doing!” I exclaimed, “we’re basking in the love!” One of them replied and started making kissing noises to eachother, which me and harry both laughed at.

(Time skip to the villa)

Freezy pulled out his camera and started speaking “Lux, y/n this is the first time we’re gonna see it [the villa], we know it’s sick though because we know we’re in the good team.”

We got out of the car and I held Harry’s hand and walked up to the gates, waiting for them to open. Me and harry stayed behind the group because we haven’t had much alone time together since I arrived so we just distanced ourselves a little. I yawned and rubbed my eyes, “You tired?” Harry asked me “oh my gosh yes, I can’t wait to go to bed.” I groaned. When the gates opened my jaw dropped, this place was stunning, I want to live here!

“One thing is though these aren’t filled with water,” harry pointed at the small fountain at the front door, “I may have to leave a four star review because if this.” I slapped Harry’s shoulder jokingly “Don’t even start!” We walked through the front doors and me and JJ looked at eachother and immediately knew what to do, and I let go of Harry’s hand i quickly stood next to JJ and we started to sing the halo theme tune together in the large foyer. As we finished the boys laughed and and Freezy said “Ayy that’s the halo soundtrack!”

The boys started to give us a tour round the place and I was shocked at the size of the kitchen and the the large living room that looks out into the garden and also there’s a lift! They took us to the garden and told Cal, Freezy and I to face away and then turn around. JJ counted us down from 3 and when we turned around my eyes widened- the view was breathtaking…”you’ve got a mountain, in your back garden!” I exclaimed. The tour lasted awhile which I wasn’t surprised about because look at the size of this place. When they mentioned the poker table, mini arcade and the sauna I decided to find mine and Harry’s shared room and unpack my things because those things don’t interest me at all.

I had to memorise the route to mine and Harry’s room and started to unpack and when i finished I plopped myself onto the bed and let out a large sigh out of exhaustion. I heard the bedroom door open and close ,but I was too tired to lift my head up, and I felt the bed sink next to me and someone started to play with my hair. I opened my eyes to see Harry smiling down at me, “Did you see Freezys instagram story?” Harry questioned, “No not yet why?”, “Look..”

Calfreezy posted an instagram story…

“Aww they’re so cute! - even though I’ve been here for half a day already I’ve had so much fun.” I told harry, “I’m glad, because I’m really happy you’re here because you don’t know how much I’ve missed you, it’s been so boring and lonely coming home to no one for a month!”, “Don’t worry I couldn’t handle it either, I even told them at my meeting that from now on I’m working from home, so I can be with you more often.” Harry smiled and kissed my forehead. “Shall we get a shower and into some pjs and chill downstairs or do you want to watch a movie up here?” He asked me. “I think I want to watch a movie with you!” We went and got our shower and into some pjs which mine -again- consisted of one of Harry’s shirts and some shorts. We got tucked into bed and chose a movie that we both enjoy and I laid back and cuddle into harry and laying my head on his chest. We both fell into a deep slumber, not without saying “I love you” to eachother.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Picking Sides

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader, Cas & Winchester sister, Jody & Winchester sister, Mary & Winchester sister (all obviously platonic)

Synopsis: you get in a fight with Mary, and when Sam and Dean take sides you go to find someone to be on your side.

Warnings: feelings of abandonment, angst with a happy ending

You were hiding again. These days, it felt like you were always hiding. The bunker used to feel like home, but that home got smaller and smaller until the only place that truly felt like a sanctuary was your bedroom.

It didn’t feel fair to think that the arrival of your brothers’ mom took away your home, but that’s how you felt nonetheless. You wanted to be happy for them more than anything—your big brothers were everything to you, and they got back someone they had lost, someone they loved.

But that someone just so happened to look at you and see only the result of her husband with another woman. You knew it had to hurt—from her memory, it must feel like she’d last seen John only months ago, even though it had been over twenty years. So seeing his daughter—the one he had with another woman—being treated like family by her boys…that had to hurt. You understood that hurt, and you felt sorry for Mary because of it. But what you didn’t understand was why she had to make you hurt with her. Maybe she didn’t mean to—you couldn’t believe the worst about Sam and Dean’s mom, you just couldn’t—but it felt like she never wanted you there. And that disdain was starting to affect Sam and Dean. They could tell when their mom wasn’t happy, and it put them on edge. Because of that, tensions just kept rising until finally you decided that hiding out away from the common areas was best for everyone when Mary was around.

This strategy worked out well back when Mary wasn’t around much, but she’d been hanging around the bunker a lot more now, and it just wasn’t working. You couldn’t be in your room all the time, but any time you bumped into Mary the two of you seemed to get into a fight about something. Today was no different.

You only ventured out to get some food from the kitchen—but of course Mary had to be there.

“Where have you been?” She questioned, though she kept her voice low.

“Just my room,” you mumbled as you started to assemble a sandwich.

“The boys could’ve used your help, you know. They’re doing a lot of research.”

“I’ve got a laptop, I’m doing my own research.” You tried not to sound too snarky, but you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that it came out that way…just a little.

“Well it would make things a lot easier if you’d join the group,” Mary chided. At this, you scoffed—you couldn’t help it.

“Like you even want me as part of the family,” you challenged.

“I said group, not family. You’re not family,” she insisted, her tone still neutral and her voice still low. Something about her trying to keep this horrible conversation nice and quiet just made you want to scream it all the louder. Unfortunately, you did it at the wrong moment.

“Says the one who hasn’t been here for twenty years! Don’t pretend you’re more of a family to Sam and Dean than I am!”

“Hey now!” Dean’s voice snapped you out of your anger for a split second, and turned it to shock—you didn’t know he was so nearby. “That’s enough!” He directed his anger towards you—of course he hadn’t heard Mary’s words.

“But I was just—“ you began, but Dean didn’t let you get far.

“I don’t care what you were doing, I heard enough! Now I think you should go to your room.”

You took a deep breath, desperate to tell your side.

“But you didn’t hear—“

“I heard enough!” Dean was yelling now, and his sudden rise in anger had you taking a surprised step back. “Now go to your room! You’ve done enough damage.”

“B-but De—“

“I said go! And don’t you come out. I’ll come get you when I think you’ve had enough time to think about what kind of consequence your words have. Go!”

It wasn’t often that Dean looked so tall—he was always the “short one” compared to Sam. But now—looming over you like the shadow of a mountain, nothing but anger written on his features—no one had ever looked bigger, and you had never felt smaller. Just when you thought you couldn’t feel more pathetic, you felt tears start to prick behind your eyes. You twisted around and ran for your room before Dean could see them.

You made sure you were well behind your door with the lock in place before you felt safe enough to let the tears fall.

…

Mary was silent as she watched you run. There was a cacophony of thoughts banging around in her head, and it was so distracting that it took a moment for her to hear Dean talking to her.

“Mom? Mom?” Dean was right in front of her when she finally snapped out of it. “I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what’s been going on with her lately, but she shouldn’t have said that to you. I’ll talk to her.”

But Mary didn’t want that. In fact, she felt sick to her stomach. Ever since she had learned about your existence, she had felt almost in competition with you. Somehow, you being the result of John’s relationship with another woman made Mary feel as though you were somehow responsible for it, or complacent with it. Deep down she knew that that was wrong, but she couldn’t help the feelings. So instead, she had been justifying them, and using those feelings as an excuse for how she was trying to win the boys’ affection over you.

But just now, she had seen you for what you really were—not competition for her sons’ affections, not some sick reminder of John’s love being given to someone else taunting her; no. She had seen a scared little girl being rejected and reprimanded by her big brother and father figure, and it had been Mary’s fault.

“No, Dean…” Mary sighed. “I wish you hadn’t done that. She didn’t deserve it.”

Dean was confused. “But she—“

“I said some things to her that…well, let’s just say I deserved what she said. I mean it Dean, I screwed up, not her.”

Dean looked torn for a moment—after all, the only part he had heard were some awful words on your part—but then the scene replayed in his mind, and he saw you; your hands were shaking, your lip was quivering, and Dean had just kept on yelling.

“Oh man,” Dean sighed. “I need to talk to her.”

…

You didn’t let the tears fall long before you made a decision; you couldn’t stay here. You could deal with Mary not wanting you here, but you couldn’t deal with your brothers choosing her over you. That was the last straw.

You had a bag packed far too quickly, and you found yourself lingering in your room, trying to find an excuse not to go. This was your home—you didn’t want to leave.

Then an image of Dean screaming at you flashed in your mind—

“I said go! And don’t you come out.”

This wouldn’t be a one-time thing—it couldn’t. Dean had picked Mary over you, and it would only get worse. You had to go.

You slung your bag over your shoulder and went straight for the door.

“Hey.” Sam’s voice broke your stride for a moment, but you didn’t stop. “Hey, where are you going?”

“Out for a walk,” you huffed.

“I thought Dean told you to stay in your room,” Sam challenged. You froze for a moment.

“You heard?” You asked, hope sparking in the back of your mind. Maybe Sam would be on your side!

“Not everything,” Sam admitted. “But enough. I think you should stay in your room.”

Disappointment didn’t begin to cover what hit you then—Sam, taking Mary’s side too, without even knowing the whole story!

“And I think you should mind your own business,” you grumbled, going out and slamming the door behind you.

…

There was a cab waiting for you—you’d called one while you were packing—so you were already being carried away from the bunker by the time Sam followed you out the door.

The cab took you as far as the bus station, and from there you got on the first bus that would take you to Sioux Falls—to Jody.

You’d been praying to Cas since you’d left, but he must’ve been busy in heaven or something, because he hadn’t come. So Jody’s it was.

…

“I was wondering if you were going to show up.” Jody’s greeting when you arrived on her doorstep was less than conventional.

“What?” You questioned as she let you into the living room.

“Your brothers have been calling me every ten minutes for the past two hours, hoping you’d find your way over here. They’re worried about you.”

“I don’t know why,” you muttered under your breath, but Jody caught it.

“What do you mean you don’t know? Those boys worry over you like mother hens, they always have.”

“Not lately,” came your dull response. “Lately Mary’s more important.”

“Hey, now that isn’t fair,” Jody argued. “They just got her back from the dead. Just because their attention is a little divided—“

“It’s not that.” You huffed. “She doesn’t want me around. And they’re starting to take her side. They used to treat me like their sister, and now they…” you cleared your throat, blinking fast suddenly. “And now they treat me like…just John’s illegitimate kid. And I know that’s what I am, I just…I never felt it before.”

“Wait, kid…” Jody sighed, her hands coming up to hold onto your shoulders. “Kid, that is not who you are. You are so much more than that, and I’m sure if we talk to Sam and Dean, they’ll—“

“No,” you insisted, starting to panic. “I don’t want to talk to them right now, I just can’t. Please, you can’t tell them I’m here.”

“They’re gonna call again,” Jody said.

“You can’t—“

“Y/N.” You were interrupted by a flutter of wings and the deep voice of your favorite angel. “I heard you, what’s wrong?”

“Cas.” Your panic ebbed as you lurched forwards and wrapped your arms around Castiel. He held you close, quick to ask again—

“What’s wrong, what happened?”

“She ran away,” Jody spoke up. “Problems with Mary.”

“Oh, little one…” Cas sighed. “You—“

“Don’t tell me to go back!” You said as you pulled away from Cas. “You haven’t been here, you don’t know what it’s been like!”

“They’re your brothers,” Cas argued.

“But they don’t want to be. They want their legitimate family, and I’m not gonna get in the way anymore.”

“Hey.” Cas bent down to better look at you. “What makes you say that?”

“They just took her side.” You found it suddenly hard to speak around the lump in your throat. “De just-just took her side without even asking me what happened. He screamed at me, I’ve never-I’ve never seen him so angry before. He wanted me to go away, so-so I went. And Sammy didn’t even know what happened either, but he took her side too!”

“What did happen?” Cas asked gently.

You shook your head, “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Cas reached down and hooked his fingers under your chin, tilting your downturned head up to look at him.

“It matters to me.”

Your lip was quivering and your hands were shaking by the time the first tears fell.

“She said that I’m not family. I mean I-I always knew she didn’t want me around, but…” you swallowed and took a deep breath, trying to stifle your tears. “But she’s never been this mean before. She said I’m not family, Cas. And Sam and Dean took her side.”

“They agreed with her?” Cas’s face was scrunched slightly in confusion.

“N-no,” you admitted. “But when I tried to argue with her, Dean yelled at me.”

“You should talk to them,” Cas suggested. “I’m sure that’s not what he meant.”

“I don’t want to talk to them. Cas, please,” you pleaded.

“Alright, alright,” Cas relented. He was going to make you talk it out with your brothers…later. Right now you were too angry, too hurt. You just needed someone you could trust, and Cas would be that for you for as long as you needed before he could fix your relationship with your brothers.

“They’re going to keep calling,” Jody spoke up.

“Don’t answer, please,” you begged.

“Then they’ll just come here,” Jody said.

“I’ll talk to them if you don’t want to,” Cas said. “Please let me talk to them. I know we can fix this.”

You were silent for a moment, letting yourself process before you spoke.

“I don’t want to see them right now.”

“Then you won’t,” Cas promised. “Just let me talk to them.”

“Ok,” you sighed after another long moment. “But…Cas? Can you…will you…please just don’t take their side,” you pleaded. “Maybe it’s not fair to ask, I just…I just need someone on my side.”

“I’m on your side,” Cas assured you. “Always.”

…

“They’re here.” Jody’s announcement had you more nervous than you thought you’d be. The fear that Dean might yell at you again—this time for running away and disobeying him—was suddenly very real.

It was weird to be afraid of your big brother; it was unnatural for you. But you couldn’t get the image of him screaming at you out of your head, neither could you get the feelings it gave you to go away.

“Y/N?” You snapped out of your thoughts to see Cas standing in front of you. “I’m going to go talk to them, alright?”

You glanced out the window, hoping the sight of your big brothers might somehow give you a different—better—memory to focus on. Instead, you saw a third figure exiting the Impala with the boys; Mary.

“They brought Mary.” Your voice came out barely above a whisper, but still Cas heard and turned to look out the window.

“I’m going to talk to them,” he repeated, only this time his tone was devoid of comfort and filled with rage.

…

“You should wait in the car.” Cas directed his order at Mary, who looked taken aback.

“I came to—“

“If you value your immediate safety, do what I said.”

Mary retreated to the Impala without another word.

“What was that?” Dean demanded. He hadn’t heard Cas talk like that in long time—unless it was to a demon.

“Don’t question me,” Castiel barked. “Not after what you did. And especially not after you brought her—“ Castiel gestured towards the impala, where Mary was waiting— “here. Do you know what she said to your little sister?”

“I don’t—“ Dean began, but Castiel interrupted him.

“No, you don’t, because you didn’t ask. You didn’t get her side, you just yelled at her.”

“And I’m trying to fix it,” Dean said.

“Well she doesn’t want to talk to you.” Castiel crossed his arms in front of him, all but blocking the doorway. “You did that, Dean. Your own little sister is too scared to talk to you, because she thinks you’ll yell at her again. She thinks you’ll pick Mary over her—again.”

“Cas, c’mon,” Dean pleaded. “I want to tell her I’m sorry. Just let me talk to her.”

“I already told you—she doesn’t want to.” Cas left no room for argument.

“Look,” Dean sighed. “Just tell her I need to talk to her. Tell her—“

“Tell her I’m sorry.” Both Dean and Cas turned at the sound of Mary’s voice as she stepped out of the Impala. “Please Castiel. Tell her I was wrong, and that I’m sorry.”

Cas stared at Mary long and hard before seemingly coming to a decision.

“Come with me.” Cas led them into Jody’s house, but stopped them firmly in the living room. “Stay right here. I’m going to go talk to her.”

Cas’s departure brought silence into the house for several long seconds.

“Do you mean it?” Dean’s sudden question threw Mary for a moment.

“What?”

“The apology. Do you mean it? Because on the off chance that she actually lets us in there, and you get to say that apology, you’ve gotta mean it, because she’s going to know.”

Mary was silent for a moment.

“I do mean it. Look, things have been…hard for me. I know to you guys, your father had years to mourn me before your little sister happened. But for me—it feels like I just woke up, and suddenly I find out my husband had a child with another woman. It feels so wrong; but I know that it isn’t Y/N’s fault, and I know that I was wrong to blame her for it. And I see how close the two of you boys are to her—and how close she is to you; that’s going to have to be enough for me. So yes, I do mean my apology—I truly was wrong.”

“Ok.” Your voice startled mother and son, who both whirled to face you.

“Ok?” Mary asked tentatively.

“Well, no,” you amended. “It’s not ok. But I do forgive you.”

“Understood,” Mary said, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “And thank you.”

“Things can’t stay the same,” you continued. “I can’t be treated like an outsider in my own family anymore.”

“I understand that too,” Mary promised. “Things will change—I will change them—I promise.”

“Ok then.” You sighed, your eyes flickering over to Dean. The silence went from contemplative to awkward very quickly.

“I’m going to go wait in the car,” Mary said quietly, slipping out the front door to give you and Dean some private time.

“That went well,” Dean said awkwardly.

“Don’t make jokes,” you commanded.

“I’m sorry.”

“You hurt me.” You forced your gaze not to waver as you confronted your big brother. “Not just because you yelled at me; because you picked her side without even listening to me. It was like I didn’t even matter.”

“Y/N—“

“No. It’s my turn now. It’s not just Mary that has to make things better at the bunker. I-I can’t live with being walked over or ignored because you guys choose her. I know she’s your mom, and I would never, ever ask you to choose me over her. But she would, and she has. And you’ve picked her. And that hurts, De.” The tears in your eyes were threatening to fall, but you refused to let that stop you. “It really, really hurts.”

“Sweetheart…” you were in Dean’s arms before you could even think about protesting—not that you wanted to. It felt like it had been forever since his arms had been around you—since you had felt so truly at home. “N/N I’m so, so sorry. I’m not gonna let that happen again, ever. Even if Mary goes back on her promise, and she doesn’t change things, I will. I’m not gonna let anybody walk over you again. You’re important to me—I’m never going to let anyone tell me to choose someone over you, never. I know that doesn’t take back what I did—what I said to you—but…but can you forgive me anyway?”

Your grip tightened on Dean, and he didn’t try to pull away.

“Of course I forgive you.”

“So…” you let Dean pull away from you, but he kept hold of your hands. “So you’ll come home? Sammy’s waiting with some ice cream and another apology for you.”

You giggled, wiping the remaining tears off of your cheeks.

“Yeah. Yeah I’ll come home.”

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee

[colorlessjay]

Epic the musical and Supernatural mesh together so well, it's ridiculous -

Personally I've always imagined it as Cas trying to escape the empty to get back home to Dean, and he has to face a bunch of trials along the way, like confronting Circe (Rowena), finding the blind prophet (Pamela or Kevin), so on and so forth, meanwhile Dean and Jack are back on earth holding out hope he'll come back-

There's more but I don't wanna dump all this on ya' lol, I just saw you mention it in a post and saw an opportunity to give my 2 cents :p

-Jukebox 📼

Jukebox, look at me

I have a vision. I need to communicate telepathically

Remember the Demon Dean arc? Mark of Cain? All that carnage?

You know the Itheca Saga?

Imagine this:

Dean's been having his summer love with Crowley, when he hears word about demons going after Sam. Instead of being apathetic and dismissive, Dean looks into it only to find out that someone within Crowley's circle has somehow found an entrance to the bunker. A way to slip in.

And I want this to be at least two years since Dean disappeared.

He hears about what's happened to Sam, and his instincts to kill kick in. Like how he went after the Frankenstein family after they killed Charlie? Yeah, that energy, but with Sam, because that makes just as much sense. And honestly, if the show wanted more carnage, they should've started here, BUT ANYWAYS

Blah blah plot, that's too many details for me. Cut to the bunker, the demons are out hunting Sam, destroying the bunker room by room in the process

Cue the song "Hold Them Down" as the demons mock Crowley's fondness for the Winchesters and talk about how they will be the ones to take them down.

And just as it hits the last lyrics, the demons are in the library, absolutely desecrating ancient knowledge, an angel blade fucking launches into the back of one Demon's head and kills it

Cue the song "Odysseus" as Dean stands at the archway of the library, gun in one hand. The line "I have had enough" is said before Dean shoots at the ceiling, and the whole bunker goes dark for a second, the lights of the lamps flickering before it all goes out

Carnage

A full massacre happens as Dean hunts down every demon, closing off the bunker so no one can get in or out. Meanwhile, Sam tries to deal with the ones who were still after him. Even with a broken arm, he's holding his own, but they outnumber him

And I need Sam to watch as Dean lets the demon in his take over and protect his brother

After the chaos, we cue in "I Can't Help but Wonder" as Sam and Dean reunite. Fuck you, power of love and brotherhood WINS. I need Sam to just tell Dean how he never stopped trying to find him again, that he's not making the same mistake like when Dean got sent to purgatory. How he always hoped Dean would come home again.

Dean saying he's proud of Sam, that Sam grew into his own hunter, that he's been doing good, and that he did miss him, he just didn't want to come home a monster. But he's back now, and they hug, and it's sweet

And Sam says he has to go tell Cas

And then we cue to "Would You Fall in Love with Me Again"

Cas gets the call that Dean is back, as Cas was already driving back to the bunker when he got the SOS

The bunker door opens

Dean says Cas' name

And Cas can't help but stare as he walks down the stairs hesitantly. Cause he sees Dean's demon form, but he can still see remnants of his soul in there too

"Is it you? Have my prayers been answered?"

Cas is looking Dean over, trying to see past the demon while Dean gets a look at Cas' true form for the first time

Dean says he's not the righteous man Cas knew. That he's not the same man. That his sins run so much deeper now than ever before, and he's beyond who Cas can even consider a friend

Cas asks what he's done, and Dean just tells Cas about every regret and pain he's had. How he feels irredemable before he doesn't feel bad about everything he's done. How a part of him left and did it for his family's safety. And he asks Cas if he'd still take Dean back

words words that someone smarter and more literate than me will figure out

Cas tells (confesses) to Dean that he'll love him over and over again, no matter what. That he's still the same person. He'll always be Dean, and that Cas has been waiting for him to come home

Cinematic rotating shot of their POVs with Cas' true form and Dean's demon form wrapping around each other as their physical bodies hug, forehead to forehead

Dean "How long has it been?"

Cas "Too long"

And then Sam is waiting in the kitchen, waiting for them to finish

fuck this was badly written. No one read this

[prythianpages]

There She Goes | Cassian

cassian x love witch reader | summary: You're determined to help Cassian find love. It is your specialty, after all. But Cassian finds himself falling for you.

warnings: none? this is fluff, I guess?

a/n: Though this is part of a series, it can be read as a stand-alone. Jumping a little ahead here to established friends (:

Cassian and Azriel strolled through the cobblestone streets of Velaris, the familiar warmth of the city wrapping around them like a comforting embrace after their trip to Windhaven. As they passed by the bakery, the irresistible aroma of freshly baked goods wafted out, tempting them and slowing their steps. 

"Well, since we're passing by, we might as well indulge. " Cassian said, flashing a grin at Azriel.

“Support our local businesses.” Azriel nodded his head in agreement, mirroring his grin as if they had not purposely taken the longer path back to the town house. His shadows wrapped around the shop’s door handle, pulling it open and he gestured for Cassian to step inside first.

Cassian’s eyes lit up at the sight of the display case filled with pastries, his stomach rumbling in response. There was so much to choose from—from savory to sweet—and he craved both. But then his gaze fell on the heart-shaped strawberry tarts, and it was almost embarrassing how quickly his thoughts drifted to you.

Strawberries and heart-shaped objects were among your favorite things. 

Granted, you had many favorite things, especially if they were pink. And if they were that tickle-me-pink shade—because yes, there are different shades of pink as you passionately taught him one night—well, that made them even better.

After buying a couple of tarts among a handful of other pastries, he could almost picture your delighted expression, and a warm, fuzzy feeling spread through him. Something that did not go unnoticed by Azriel. “Didn’t know you liked tarts so much,” he commented.

“I always liked them.” Cassian replied, brushing off his friend’s curiosity.

Azriel’s gaze narrowed. “Since when?”

“Since now.”

Cassian shrugged, pulling one of the tarts from his bag and eagerly taking a bite. He closed his eyes for a moment, making a dramatic show out of proving his point right as a contented sigh escaped his lips.

Azriel’s eyebrows knitted together in a skeptical manner, but Cassian was relieved he didn’t pry further. His shadows, however, began to pulse with sudden craving, and Cassian glared at the one that curled itself around Azriel’s ear. Centuries of friendship with the Shadowsinger have given Cassian some insight into the behavior of Azriel’s shadows. Those sneaky little tendrils could be just as meddlesome as he was.

And Cassian has yet to tell his family about you.

Though you’ve been friends for a while, he’s hesitant to share this part of his life with them. It's not because he is embarrassed, but because he knows they’d bombard him with questions about you. They’d also be eager to meet you, undoubtedly curious about the person who has captured his attention. Cassian is sure they already suspect something is going on, and the way Azriel’s shadows keep eagerly fluttering around him makes him wonder if Azriel has already figured it out.

A selfish part of Cassian just wants to keep you to himself. For you to be his person—Cassian shakes his head at the thought, quickly correcting himself. He wants you to be his friend, and only his friend, for now.  He isn’t ready to share you just yet.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he catches a glimpse of pink and his heart skipped a beat. His heart settled with a hint of disappointment when he realized that the pink had come from the cotton candy a vendor was selling. 

Get a grip, Cas.

He heard your laughter next—or what sounded like it.

There she goes, Cassian thought, his lips curving into a fond smile as his mind formed the image of you laughing. The way your eyes would light up, crinkling in an endearing manner as you tilted your head slightly back. And there she goes again, racing through his mind...

He could even picture you in this moment, walking gracefully through the plaza in another one of your pink outfits. A pink strawberry cardigan with light-colored pants and matching pink ballet flats. Wait a minute...

Cassian realized he wasn’t imagining things. That had been your laughter he heard. And you were, in fact, wearing a pink strawberry cardigan. Like a vision straight out of a dream.

You must’ve sensed him too because in a heartbeat, your head turned in his direction. A bright smile spread across your face. Cassian’s smile widened, his eyes softening and he couldn’t bring himself to care over the way Azriel’s gaze immediately shifted between you two, shadows whispering madly.

If there was one person that could keep a secret in the family, it’d be Azriel.

“Hey, Cas,” you greeted as you approached them. Your steps came to a stop and gaze shifted to Azriel.

A sense of panic had Cassian’s wings tensing as you regarded his friend.

Azriel had always been the most beautiful of their group. Many fae—females and males—flocked to him on the nights they’d successfully dragged Azriel to Rita’s. He was never short of suitors, and it seemed that he was always the first choice. It was something Cassian couldn’t help but be envious of, and the longer your gaze lingered on Azriel, the more his wings tensed.

“Hello! You must be Azriel. Cassian talks a lot about you and of Rhysa–the High Lord as well.” You corrected yourself, extending your hand out toward Azriel.

“Yes,” Azriel replied, side-glancing at Cassian as he politely shook your hand. “That’s funny actually because—”

Cassian elbowed Azriel, giving a subtle shake of his head. Don’t say anything, his eyes screamed at him. Azriel fought the urge to roll his eyes, choosing to clear his throat instead. “Because I am Azriel…”

“Right…”

“Anyway, it’s nice to finally meet you…,” Azriel trailed off, the corner of his lips tugging upwards into a faint smile as that sneaky shadow of his curled around his ear once more. “The one Cassian has been running off to a lot...”

Cassian turned his head to glare at Azriel in warning. He then turned his attention back to you. He watched as your gaze flickered between them both, then to the bags full of pastries they carried, before settling back on Cassian. He let out a small exhale, not realizing he had been holding his breath. The panic that had begun to seep in was now pushed away by relief.

You had not fallen victim to Azriel’s effortless charm. He wouldn’t have blamed you, if you had.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Not at all.” Azriel replied for them and your eyes lit up.

You clasped your hands behind your back, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“Does that mean you’re free then?”

“Yes,” Azriel answered for Cassian again, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Mind if I steal him from you?” You asked Azriel, though your gaze had not wavered from Cassian.

“No, take him,” Azriel said, playfully shoving his friend your way. “You can keep him too.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ★ ˏˋ˗ 

The sounds of children laughing and playing filled the air, and the vibrant energy of the city seemed to mirror the tumult in Cassian's chest. “So, what did you need to steal me for?” 

“Your company,” you replied simply, your smile warm as you watched the kids in the park. You missed the way your words made Cassian blush. “I missed you and was thinking about when you’d return. I got some updates for you…”

When he didn’t respond, you turned your head toward him, catching him staring at you with an intensity that took you aback. Your eyes met his with a curious, questioning look. Cassian quickly cleared his throat, attempting to mask his racing heart with a facade of nonchalance.

“I got you something.”

“You did?”

Cassian held up the pastry bag before opening it. He pulled out one of the strawberry tarts and that delighted expression he had imagined earlier came to life.

You gasped, drawing a genuine smile from his lips. “How did you know I love these?”

“I had a feeling,” Cassian said, nodding towards your cardigan, the shade of pink he had come to associate so closely with you.

“Well, thank you. You’re the best!”

Cassian’s wings fluttered behind him and he was grateful for the way you were distracted with the pastry to notice. But as you lifted your gaze back upwards, your eyes widened at something behind him. His muscles tensed when your hand suddenly gripped his arm, shorter form moving behind him. 

“Hide me!” You hush-whispered and Cassian’s instincts were quick, using his free hand to push you further behind him, your forehead pressing into his back.

His gaze sharpened, senses on high alert, as he searched the area for danger.

“What is it?”

“See that fae over there? The one with silver hair and wearing bright green? That’s my ex. And the other fae right next to him is his mean wife, who is always unpleasant to bump into.”

Cassian’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at the couple you pointed out, who were slowly approaching where you both stood. He turned, keeping you hidden behind his broad form as they walked past you. Only when they were out of sight did you step around Cassian, resuming your place by his side. You let out a long breath, wiping the nonexistent sweat from your forehead that had him resisting the urge to chuckle.

You finally indulged in the sweet pastry in your hand, struck by the need of a sweet distraction from the stressful situation you narrowly avoided. You waited until you swallowed the first bite completely before speaking again. 

“We dated for almost a year. He broke up with me because I was ‘too much.’ Guess he couldn’t handle me. Yet he can handle that crazy wife of his. Amazing what love does, isn’t it?”

There was no hint of bitterness in your tone. Only a soft, dreamy one that had Cassian’s jaw tightening slightly. “Amazing,” he echoed, though his thoughts were far from the admiration you harbored. 

He couldn’t fathom how anyone could think you were too much. To him, you were just right. Perfect, even. He could never get enough of you. The idea that someone else had the chance to experience that, and had let you go, was… infuriating.

“They give me hope.”

“What?” Cassian couldn’t help but let out a snort, pushing past the emotion he dared not name as he looked at you.

You looked back at him in an incredulous manner. “They give me hope,” you said again. “They remind me that there is someone for everybody. That there will be someone for me too one day…Hey, don’t look at me like that.”

Cassian shook his head, forcing a smile to his face as he reached into his bag of pastries and pulled out a macaroon. “You just don’t talk about your personal love life much.”

Your eyes softened as you gazed at him, missing the conflict in his. “Well, there hasn’t been much to talk about lately. I’ve had relationships here and there.”

“I actually dated the bakery owner’s son awhile back. It only lasted three weeks. Biscuit bit his ankle when I first brought him to my place. Worked in his favor, though–he met the love of his life at the healing clinic. They make a really cute couple.”

Cassian’s eyebrows raised in surprise, thinking back to the blue-skinned fae with delicate features he’d seen occasionally at the bakery. He would often help his father during the winter season but he hadn’t seen him lately.

“I’ve opened my heart to many but none of them have wanted to keep it.” You said with a shrug and then took another bite of the strawberry tart. “My love life is quite eventful but it leads to nowhere. I don’t talk about it much because it’s not good for my reputation, you know? A love witch who cannot find love herself…”

Cassian's heart ached at your words. He stared at you again, not knowing what to say to sweeten the bitterness that had befallen upon you. It was then that he noticed some of the pastry’s cream on the corner of your mouth. Without thinking, he leaned in and reached out, his thumb gently brushing against your skin as he wiped it away.

The sudden closeness made your breath hitch, and he realized just how close he was to you. Your eyes locked and his hand lingered on your face, the warmth of your skin sending a shiver down his spine.

“Sorry, you had some of the pastry on your lips, ” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He was close enough to see the flecks of color in your eyes, to feel the warmth of your breath against his skin. 

Something deep inside–like a hidden instinct– screamed at him to close the distance.

But instead, he let his hand drop, the moment slipping away like sand through his fingers. He brushed his thumb against his leathers to wipe off the cream before popping another macaroon into his mouth as if nothing happened.

“Maybe you should just date me.”

 Cassian choked on the macaroon. “Date—” he managed between coughs, “you?”

His eyes widened, and for a moment, he thought he had seen a flicker of hurt flash through your eyes. But he must’ve imagined it because you were flashing him a grin, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’m just joking,” you said with a small laugh. “It’s just that people tend to meet their soulmates after breaking up with me. In a weird sense, I’m like a good luck charm. To all, except myself, that is.”

He felt a pang of disappointment, the feeling threatening to sink his heart. Of course, you were joking. He thought back to the fae you just told him about. Both males were tall and elegant with soft and beautiful features. They were so different from him, a stark contrast to his rugged warrior persona.

It was clear you had a type, and he was far from it. Just as he was convinced he was way out of your league. You would never date someone like him.

“Don’t worry! My love life might be a mess but when it comes to others, I am an expert. I have brought soulmates together. I made a vow to you, Cassian, and I intend to keep it. I’ll help you find your special someone, magic or no magic. Which brings me back to the update I wanted to share with you. I made a new friend the other day! Her name is…”

Cassian allowed you to tug him toward a quaint iron bench beneath a blooming tree as you rambled on. He settled down first, stretching his wings out to their full span to make room for both of you. As his wings curled around you, his heart raced at the accidental brush of his wing against your arm.

 You continued to chatter excitedly about the new friend you thought Cassian might be interested in. “She’s beautiful, weight-lifts, is interested in Valkyrie training, and—are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah, of course,” Cassian replied noncommittally, drawing a small frown from you. In truth, he hadn’t been listening.

Something bright flashes in your eyes, the frown leaving your lips as quickly as it had come. “Did you meet someone in Windhaven?”

“No.” Cassian let out a snort. His trip to Windhaven consisted of solely dealing with the grumpy war camp lords. It was anything but pleasant. “I doubt I’d find love there.”

“Nonsense! Have you learned nothing from me?” You exclaimed, shifting in your seat so that you leaned forward slightly, palms of your hands placed on either side of your thighs. “Love can be found anywhere!”

Your eyes danced with excitement, searching around the plaza. He recognized that look on your face and leaned back, preparing for another impromptu love lesson. 

“Just look,” you said, your voice soft as you pointed to various scenes around them with tilts of your head. “There’s love in the way a mother pushes her little girl on the swing—just the right amount of force to send her soaring but gentle enough to keep her safe.”

Cassian watched, mesmerized, as your pupils dilated into heart shapes, pink magic beginning to dance from your fingertips. “There’s love in the way the elderly couple walks hand in hand, their steps in sync as if they’ve been together for multiple lifetimes.”

“There’s love in the way the flower merchant sneaks an extra rose into the bouquet she just wrapped for her customer. There’s love in the way the customer’s hands brush against hers as he takes the bouquet, his touch lingering for a moment longer and oh, would you look at that—”

Pink stardust soared through the air, forming little butterflies that fluttered around the female and male at the flower stand. They circled around them, drawing them closer to one another, shimmering over them. “—He actually bought those flowers for her to ask her on a date and she said yes!”

“There’s love in the laughter of children playing in the park, their joy infectious...”

Cassian listened, but his focus was less on the people you pointed out and more on you. The way your eyes sparkled with passion, the soft glow of your smile, the gentle manner in which you observed the world—everything about you was enchanting. 

It all made him yearn for something more, something he feared to admit. And in that moment, he realized that he didn’t need to find love in Windhaven or anywhere else.

Because what if...

What if it was right there, sitting beside him, wrapped in pink magic and heart-shaped pupils?

“Uncle C–”

A high-pitched, familiar cheerful voice drew Cassian out of his thoughts. He blinked and then he was looking around the park, keen eyes searching for the voice that sounded just like his nephew’s. But there was no sight of the adorable toddler that held a special place in his heart.

“Love is in the air, Cas.” 

You were looking at him now, eyes filled with warmth and affection. He wondered if you could see the longing in his gaze, if you could feel the depth of his feelings. 

But then you smiled, a smile so pure and bright that it took his breath away, and he knew he couldn’t risk losing you.

How could he ever hope to be worthy of someone as extraordinary as you?

a/n: I hope y'all didn't mind the time jump. I do intend to post more fics that occurred between the tarot love reading and this one! One of them is a bit angsty and gives more of Love Witch's POV since these have mainly been in Cassian's. I just had the inspiration to write this thanks to the song it was titled after.

Guess Azriel couldn't keep a secret, after all. This part leads right into the next, which was from a suggestion of love witch meeting the IC and also inspired by the song She's So High. If there is anything you'd like to see in that part, just let me know! <3

Biscuit is the name of Love Witch's pet snake btw, who will be introduced soon.

series masterlist

series taglist: @mrsjna , @shadowsingercassia, @acourtofbatboydreams, @rcarbo1, @mvidaaaa ,

@stuff-i-found-while-crying , @lipstickmarks, @yamisukehoe , @mp-littlebit , @thecraziestcrayon, @talesofadragon, @ceoofyearning

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna

[deadghosy]

🪓 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑|| 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐗 𝐆𝐍! 𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

Diagnosis: fearing to harm your lover, you drink blood from another. Making the riddle himself feel jealous and angry at how you could think he can’t take it.

Warning: possessive behavior, possessive!mattheo, death/blood/killing mentions, slight maybe, suggestive.

Being a vampire in Hogwarts was and is a dangerous game to play. Especially when you had fallen inlove with a mortal human from a rich Slytherin family. The Riddles. Mattheo Riddle was a Slytherin boy who had taken a liken to your “cold” & “loner” personality. He liked how you kept to yourself when really you were trying not to hurt people.

Mattheo did a slow, and friendly approach. Which slowly but surely turned into flirting banter between you two. Gaining your heart, and gaining your trust after almost a year of dating each other. You finally told him that you’re a vampire. You thought the worst, the worst being that he would tell everyone and break up with you. Only for you to gain the opposite of your imagination. He was supportive and didn’t tell a soul.

But he mostly definitely asked a lot of questions.

But last night, you killed a student. Hungry. You were so hungry you lost control and killed a former Hogwarts student that happened to run into your clutches for it to be a death trap. You were lost in a daze, sinking your fangs into their neck and draining them dry til their life and blood source was destroyed. And gone. You could’ve drunk from Mattheo, he had told you to drink his blood if it was serious. But the thought of harming him made you wanna throw up. You felt terrible, so terrible you didn’t talk at all today. Gaining attention from some students and mostly Mattheo. He walked into your dorm seeing pacing back and forth until you seen him. He stared seeing your slight baggy eyes.

“What’s wrong? You look like you had a crazy night or somthin'” he said jokingly. You stayed quiet before nervously laughing. “Yeah…” Mattheo stopped laughing hearing that laughter. He heard that laughter enough to know something actually did happen. “What happened?” You immediately tried to walk past him. You felt scared, you didn’t want him to know you lost control and killed a student.

He pulls you by your arm, gripping it slightly as his eyes darken at your nervous gaze. He hated how he can tell that you’re lying. “The fuck happened last night?” You kept avoiding eye contact making him pull your face close to his with his other hand. “What. Happened.” Breaking the last thread that held you in, you started to ramble from the events. Closing your eyes shut you spilled it, “I drunk another person’s blood and accidentally killed them because I didn’t think you could handle me sucking your own blood, and I’m so sorry!”

Mattheo let out a deep breath and let your arm and face go. Feeling a bit guilty at how he grabbed your arm and stated to massage the arm he held. Worried it might bruise. “Darling…it’s okay. I’m a Riddle for a reason. I can handle you sucking my blood. Plus killing someone isn’t a shock to me much.” You smiled at his words. “But.” Your smile dropped looking at his darkened eyes. It was like an empty void as he tilts his head at you. “But I’m yours, and you’re mine. I can’t let you drink some filthy blood that’s not mine.” You gulped as he moved his hand towards your lips.

He uses his thumb to pull your lower lip down, showing your bottom sharp fangs. There was emotion hidden behind mattheo eyes. You felt fear for a little before he leaned into your ear. “Drink my blood baby. Drink it til it make us dizzy together.” And there goes that crazed smile you fell in love with as he withdraws from your ear and looks at you. Completely towering over you. Your heart felt it was going to leap.

“Cmon. Don’t be scared love. I promise I can take it.” He smiles again, but this time his eyes are different. They soften as he undo his tie while keeping eye contact with you. With one hand it came undone. You felt your mouth water at the sight of his naked neck. Mattheo smirked seeing your eyes dilate. He knew that you were now hungry. You inch closer, and closer. Leaning your head, but your consciousness kept telling you that you were gonna hurt him.

“I..I can’t—” “but you can.” Mattheo quickly interrupts you. “I know you can. I know you’re strong enough to know you can’t hurt me. I can handle it.” Bringing his hand and caressing your cheek. You nodded, you trusted Mattheo to tell you if you are hurting him. You bit into his neck.

With a hiss, Mattheo puts his hand on your waist. Bring you closer as you sink your teeth in deeper. Breaking the flesh and sucking in his blood. You could hear Mattheo chuckle lowly, but what you didn’t see was the light blush and euphoric look he had on his face. His low eyes as he grips the side of your waist. You hummed at the delicious iron taste. Filling your mouth while Mattheo let out a small moan. “That’s right baby…drink as much as you can. Drink it all..” he whispers as he lowers his eyes at you. You hummed and finished the last drop you could drink.

Your eyes were glossy when you pulled back from his neck. Licking the bites that threaten to spill more from Mattheo. “Sorry if I hurt you…” you say lowly, embarrassed at how you also feel on cloud nine from drinking his blood. “You didn’t hurt me.” He kissed the temple of your head then wipes your red stained lips. “Didn’t even feel a pinch.” He smiled while you just roll your eyes. “Whatever…”

At least you knew how he feels if you don’t drink his blood.

[websterss]

AT THE SAKE OF YOU (1) CLIFF SIDE – AZRIEL

SUMMARY: When a text from his Captain has him going back into work for a search and rescue, he wasn't expecting the personnel in distress to be you and your kid.

WARNING(S): angst, extraction from a car, mentions of car rolling off a cliff, unlabeled relationship lol, and fluff at the end.

WORD COUNT: 4,117

PAIRING: S&R Officer!Azriel x fem!Reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed. So I watched Twisters on a shitty cam version, then watched San Andreas and this was the result of it! Lmfao.

MASTERLIST

Azriel had dazed off, tuning out Cassian’s rant about another successful rescue. A family of four was trapped in a house fire. What were the odds of that happening?

Seeing Cassian wave a hand in his face, Azriel snapped back to reality. “What?” He asked, his tone bored.

“Did you even hear a word I was saying?” Cassian asked, rolling his eyes. “Or was your mind elsewhere again?”

“Leave him Cas. It’s his brooding time before heading back into work.” Rhysand lifted his glass up to his lips.

Azriel shot Rhysand a glare. “I don’t brood.” He said with a scowl, sipping his glass of water.

Cassian snickered. “Oh, you definitely brood. You brood more than any of us. It’s like a specialty of yours.”

Azriel grumbled under his breath. “Remind me why I still bother to come out to lunch with you two?”

“Because you love us.” Cassian said, wrapping his arm around Rhysand’s shoulder. “And we always have your back.”

Azriel rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. Maybe they were right… Maybe he did brood a bit.

Before he could say anything else, his phone went off. He picked it up and read over the text his captain sent him. His smile was long gone as he looked over the short message.

Sensing the shift in Azriel’s demeanor, Rhysand and Cassian exchange glances. “What’s up?” Rhysand asked.

Azriel pursed his lips, still staring at the phone in his hands. “Another extraction….” He said, frowning. “Car went off a cliff. A mom and a kid.” He cleared his throat as he downed his water and started getting up to leave.

Cassian and Rhysand both winced at the news. “How bad….” Cassian mumbled.

Azriels grimaced in the slightest bit. He shook his head. “I won’t know till I get there Cas. Besides Caps orders were…brief.” He furrowed his brows. He looked down at the text again making sure he was reading it right. Call in immediately. “It’s probably not that bad.” Azriel said, more to himself than to Rhysand and Cassian. He tucked his phone away and glanced at the two of them. “I have to head out.”

“Be careful yeah.” Rhysand warned, his eyes filled with concern. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“That’s all Cassian!” Azriel beams as he grabs his helmet from where it sits on the table.

Cassian rolled his eyes, but a smirk crept onto his lips. “Dick.” He quipped.

Azriel chuckled. "But you love me and always have my back." He said, mocking Cassian's words before donning his helmet and heading towards the door.

It wasn’t long before he mounted his bike and rode off to work. Wondering what the hell he was walking into. His mind raced with possibilities of what could have happened to the mother and child. Maybe a tire blew out. Maybe a brake malfunction. The list was endless, each scenario more grim than the last.

-

"Cap..." Azriel nodded as he met him in his office for a debrief before he was to take off. "How bad is it? It sounded serious in the text."

"If it wasn't personal kid, I would have sent in Tarquin in your place, but because it is and because you are my damn best officer in the field to get the job done in and out. It has to be you."

Azriel felt a pang of trepidation. Personal and dangerous, a deadly combination. "Give it to me." Azriel urged, his voice firm but edged with a hint of unease.

His captain sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. "Car went off a damn cliff. We get a lot of calls from time to time about one, they’re common." His voice was grave.

"Tell me."

"Gwyn answered a 911 call over at the center..." He inhaled deeply, then exhaled. "She answered to Hazel. It's Hazel and Y/n."

Azriel's blood ran cold through his veins, suddenly feeling like he'd been doused with ice water.

No, no, no. His mind screamed but his body moved and his voice spoke on its own. “If Hazel called-” He trailed off.

"Hazel called after the car rolled to a stop. Said the car got caught on the side… She was coherent, crying, in a panic. The call was a little spotty but…she's alive. Gwyn tried keep her on the line but the call went dead. They’re alive Azriel, and so is Y/N, but from what Gwyn got out of her. Y/n is in and out of consciousness…"

Azriel's heart clenched. Hazel and you. Both trapped. Both hurt. He pushed down the panic building within him, his mind focused on the goal - to get you both out of there as quickly as possible.

"We're wasting time then…if Hazel said that the cars stuck on the side…who knows how long it'll hold before it gives."

His captain nodded in agreement. "I'm sending Eris with you. Only one you won't bite his head off." A hearty chuckle rumbled through him. As much as he was trying to lighten up the mood, he knew it wasn't gonna change the situation. "I wouldn't want anyone else if it were my girls. It’s just another Wednesday, Azriel!"

“But it’s not…” Azriel nodded curtly in response. He pushed away his personal feelings and focused on the mission at hand. His captain was right. Hazel and you needed him, and he wasn't going to let anything happen to either of you. But…it was hard. So damn hard.

He turned away and walked out of his office. He saw Eris making his way to him down the hallway, his face set in a serious expression. "Ready to go? What are we dealing with? Cap wouldn't tell me anything?"

Azriel clenched his jaw as he tossed a duffle to him. He'd give him the rundown on the helicopter. They were wasting time still being at the base. "It's Hazel and Y/n." It was all he gave Eris, yet it was enough to have him get his shit straight and resolved. He didn't need to know much of anything else in that moment. It was serious. It was a personal matter at hand and you and Hazel were at the sake of it.

The journey from the base to the accident site was a test of nerves. The helicopter ride was jarring, but Azriel and Eris were focused on the task at hand. His mind raced with thoughts of what he would find when they finally reached you both.

As the helicopter hovered the area the car toppled over, Azriel's gaze fell upon your grey Honda. His heart clenched. The car was precariously positioned on the side of the hill, stuck halfway down the embankment, hanging on by what appeared to be some branches and rocks.

Your car was battered and scratched and had indents all around it. It looked something straight from his book of nightmares - bent metal and shattered glass mingling with the rugged terrain of the hilly landscape.

"Holy shit..." Eris muttered, echoing Azriel's own thoughts. The sight was nothing short of a disaster.

Azriel's hands clenched as he looked at the carnage. He wanted nothing more than to rush out and descend from his line to you.

"Talk to me Azriel!"

"We need to stabilize the car. Secure a line to it so it doesn't slide. That car goes…and they go.” He shuddered. “We'll extract them one at a time. Hazel first..." He swallowed. "Then Y/n..."

"Who gets who?"

"Get Hazel out...She knows what's expected of her in the event of an accident..." Eris cocked a brow at him in disbelief.

"And she's how old-"

"She's six Eris. Six, okay! Y/n thought we should teach her simple things she could manage like calling 911 and giving directions or making out what she can to help her out...And it paid off, now I'm here, trying to save the two people who I can't live without...It paid off, we're here to help them, so you get Hazel after you stabilize the car." Azriel said curtly as he began descending to where you both were.

Eris nodded once in understanding. His heart clenched at Azriel's words, feeling the weight of the situation. He could hear the worry and fear in Azriel's voice, a stark contrast to his usual stoic broody and calm demeanor. He knew this was personal and it was more than just a routine rescue.

"On it." He affirmed and began descending himself, heading towards the bottom of the car to attach a line, securing a stable base to the car.

As Azriel and Eris lowered themselves to the car, their movements measured and cautious. They could hear soft cries coming from inside the car.

A voice so small, pleading, calling out.

Azriel's heart ached at the sound. It was a mix of Hazel crying and yelling out, he couldn’t quite distinguish until he lowered down closer. He wanted to hurry, but he knew he had to be patient and take it slowly to not cause the car to go with you both still in it. He called out to you both, his voice steady but gentle. “Hazel? Y/n? Can you hear me?”

There was a moment of silence before Hazel's wobbly voice called out. "Here!" Her voice was small, and he could tell by the way she called out to him that she was scared. "Azriel?" Hazel's eyes widened in relief when his face appeared in front of where she remained situated. He immediately took notice that she was out of her seat. Sitting idly on top of the passenger seat.

She must’ve unbuckled herself and climbed to reach your phone.

"Hi, bug..." Azriel breathed out giving her a once-over for physical signs of injuries. He could only make out the cuts on her little face. "Does anything hurt? Do you have trouble moving your arms, or legs? Maybe your neck, or back?"

"No...I-I called 911 like you and Mommy taught me!" She exclaims. “I couldn’t hear the nice lady anymore...” He remembers Cap saying how the line cut off.

Azriel felt a wave of relief wash over him at the sound of Hazel's excitement though. He couldn't help the small smile that crossed his face at her words. "You did, bug. I'm so proud of you for being so brave and remembering what to do." He could see that she was visibly shaking, no doubt a combination of fear and adrenaline. Azriel's gaze then shifted towards your unconscious form, his heart clenching once more at the sight of you strapped into your seat, unmoving.

Hazel had looked over at you as well. "Is mommy gonna die?"

Azriel's heart squeezed painfully at Hazel's question. "No, bug, mommy's not gonna die," He said, his voice quiet and steady. He hoped to all the Gods he could keep that promise. "She's just unconscious right now, okay? She's gonna be okay…You guys are gonna be okay." He said, his voice shaking only a little. "You were so brave, bug. So, so brave, without you we would have never known where you and mommy were." Azriel reassured her, his voice gentle and calm. "I'm here now. We're going to get you and mommy out of here." He then gestured to Eris. "This here is my friend Eris, okay. I need you to go with him, he's gonna get you out of here and safely onto the loud helicopter."

Hazel looked at Eris, her eyes wide with trepidation. Eris lowered down so that he was at eye level with her and gave her a warm smile. "Hey there, Hazel," He said, his voice soft. "I’m gonna get you out of here, okay? It's gonna be loud and a little scary at first, but I promise you'll be fine."

"Why can't I go with you?" Her gaze shifted to Azriel.

Azriel’s heart clenched at Hazel’s question. He wanted nothing more than to take her with him, to keep her safe with him. But he knew that it would only endanger both of them. He looked at Hazel, his gaze gentle yet firm. "Because I need to make sure mommy is okay, bug." He explained gently. He knew this wasn't going to be an easy conversation, and it tore him apart. "I can only carry one of you at a time. My arms are not big enough to carry you both. That's why I need you to trust me...If you go with Eris then I can get mommy, and get her out safely, okay?"

Hazel's bottom lip quivered as she considered Azriel's words. She looked over at you, lying unconscious in your seat, and then back at Azriel. She was terrified, but she trusted Azriel, and she knew that he was trying to keep both of you safe. She looked back at Eris, a small pout on her face. "Okay…"

Azriel let out a small sigh of relief, grateful that Hazel was willing to trust him. He reached over and stroked her hair gently. “That's my brave girl. I’m so proud of you.” He said, his voice thick with emotion, ruffling her hair softly. He then gestured for Eris to take her, and with a nod, Eris lifted Hazel into his arms. She clung to him tightly, her little arms wrapping around his neck.

Eris offered Hazel a reassuring smile. "What a brave girl you are kiddo." He said, holding her to him tightly and securely. "Come on, let's get you out of here. Your mommy is in good hands." Hazel bit her lip again, still looking unsure, but one look over at Azriel was enough to know he'd get you out. He quickly reached over and pressed a kiss to her head.

Azriel watched as Eris began to make his way up towards the helicopter. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what came next. With Hazel safe with Eris, he turned his attention to you. He slowly rounded the car steadying himself as he reached the side of your door, trying to assess the damage and figure out how to extract you safely without destabilizing the car further.

He could see that your airbag had deployed which was a good sign. It meant that you were somewhat protected from the initial impact. But you were still unconscious and tangled within the seatbelt, and the car was balanced on a angle, making it even more challenging to move you.

Azriel's heart clenched with worry, but he pushed his emotions aside and focused on his training. He needed to stay calm and move carefully. He reached through the shattered window and gently touched your neck, checking for your pulse.

He let out a small sigh of relief as he felt your pulse, weak but steady. He then began trying to unbuckle the seatbelt, making sure to support your head as he worked. With each movement, he felt the car shift slightly, causing his heart to skip a beat. "Y/n baby can you hear me?"

For a few agonizing moments, there had been no response. But then, suddenly, he heard a soft moan coming from your lips. It fared any worry he had. "Y/n? Baby?"

Your eyes fluttered open, your vision blurry and hazy. Azriel's face swam into view, his expression a mixture of worry and relief. You tried to speak, but the sound came out as a soft croak instead.

Azriel let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "That's it, baby. You're doing so well. Just hang in there for a little longer, okay?" He spoke gently, trying to keep his voice steady. He had to get you out quickly, but he couldn't risk moving you too fast, or the car might give way.

You could feel the pain now, your whole body ached and was screaming at you to stop, but you tried to focus on Azriel's voice. You knew that he was here, he was rescuing you. "A-Azriel.." You managed to rasp out, your voice hoarse and weak.

Despite being disoriented and groggy, you had recognized his voice immediately and it brought some comfort. You tried to push yourself up, but Azriel steadied you with a gentle but firm hand on your shoulder. "No, no. You need to stay still. We're going to get you out of here, baby. Just stay still for me, okay? Squeeze my hand if you need to."

You tried to nod your head, but even that simple movement sent pain shooting through your body. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you fought them back, not wanting to make Azriel more worried than he already was. He could see the pain etched on your face and it tore at his heart, but he knew he had to stay focused.

The sound of the helicopter hovering above seemed to stir you a bit more. You groaned softly, struggling to make sense of the situation. “Where..." You managed to croak out. "H-Hazel?"

Azriel's heart ached at the sound of your soft groans and the fear in your voice. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "Hazel's safe. We got her out. She's okay, baby, now we just need to get you out. Can you unbuckle yourself? Can you reach the release?”

Your heart raced with relief at the news that Hazel was safe, but your body was still in so much pain that it was hard to move. You attempted to unbuckle the seatbelt, but it wouldn't budge. You let out a soft whimper, tears of frustration prickling at the corners of your eyes, when you pressed down on the release again, it finally gave. You cry out in relief, slumping into your chair.

Azriel reached in through the shattered window, his touch gentle and tender as he cradled your head. "That's it, baby. Just take a second to breathe. We're almost there," he reassured you, his voice soft yet commanding. The car shifted slightly again, and Azriel's pulse quickened. The thought of losing you now was unbearable. "I'm gonna reach my hands in. I want you to try and wrap your arms around my neck as best you can. Baby, I know you're in pain and you're scared but I need you with me, okay?" He instructed, cupping your face gently with his gloves. You mustered a small nod for him.

Azriel took a deep breath as he extended his arms inside the car, steadying himself and maneuvering you as carefully as possible. He watched your expressions closely, looking for any sign of pain or discomfort. He could see that the pain was intense - your face creased with it, the sweat on your forehead. "You're doing so good, baby. Just a little more." He whispered, his voice steady but his heart on the verge of breaking.

Your body felt heavy and weak, but you forced yourself to trust Azriel completely. You steeled yourself and braced for what came next. You took a deep breath and lifted your arms, reaching out cautiously for his neck. Azriel felt you gripping onto him, and he held your trembling form as delicately yet securely as he could, taking care not to jostle your body too much.

As soon as he felt he had a good hold on you and your waist, the car began sliding. He didn't hesitate to pull you out from the driver's window.

Azriel clenched his jaw as he watched the car slide beneath you both. Falling further into the abyss. The car smashed into the ground causing his stomach to stir knowing that if he'd been a second late you would have gone with it. He held you close as you both swung, your body pressed against his chest. He could feel your heart racing, beating against his own. "Shhh, baby. You're safe now. I got you." He whispered, trying to calm down your cries with pressed kisses against your head. "I got you now."

"Az!" Eris poked his head out the chopper, having heard the car give before he saw it fall. Azriel looked up. Tapping his helmet twice, then shooting him a thumbs up.

"We're good! All good! Bring us up!" Eris looked over to a frightened Hazel, his shoulders relaxing. He felt like he couldn't breathe the whole ride here. Now he could.

"Did he get her...?" Hazel tugged the blanket Eris wrapped around her closer.

"Yeah...he got her kiddo." He offered her a lopsided grin before he got to work reeling them back up.

Azriel held you firmly as the winch began to pull you up. The sound of the helicopter blades thudding in the air, cut through the silence. The wind whipped your hair around your face, but Azriel shielded you as best he could. His body curled around you while his hold on you stayed strong and steady. One hand holding onto the line. He could feel your body shivering against his, the shock settling in.

When you reached the edge. Eris was there offering his hand to you, hauling you safely into the carrier. "Mommy!" Hazel rushed to you. You choked back a sob as she cradled her arms around your neck. You hold back a wince knowing you are still in need of a proper examination.

Azriel climbed up with Eris's help and slumped against the floor, his eyes never leaving you and Hazel. He wanted to wrap both of you in his arms and never let go. But his eyes noticed the blood on your face, a cut on your forehead, and the way you were sitting stiffly, your body trembling. He knew you were hiding the pain. He knew you were trying to be strong for Hazel. Eris smirked patting his chest.

"Alright?"

"Y-Yeah..." Azriel huffed.

"You sure?"

“Uh huh.”

"Yeah?" Eris teased.

"Yeah." Azriel swallowed as he sat up and scooted over to you both. His hands pressed against the sides of your head before he pulled you both into his embrace. A kiss followed his affection. "My babies..." He muttered as you melted in his arms. Your body slumping against him, in defeat. The tension and fear that had gripped you slowly ebbed away as Azriel's touch washed over you.

Eris awed silently to himself in his seat at the sight. He secretly wished and wanted for his family of his own. Knowing how Azriel found you two along the way and stayed, warmed his heart.

"Ten minutes. Good work!" He praised. A shit-eating grin on his face to help lighten the mood.

Azriel chuckled. "Shut up." His voice was tight and hoarse. He held both Hazel and you close to him, his arms surrounding you in a protective and loving embrace. He could feel the relief and comfort flowing through him as his muscles relaxed and he let out a shuddering breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"No seriously. I think it's a new record-" Eris chimed.

Azriel huffed as he shot Eris a glare, the corner of his mouth ticked up in a small smirk. "Shut up." He muttered, closing his eyes.

"We got to get you on one of those Worlds Guinness record books. I know a guy who could set it up-"

Azriel let out a soft huff of laughter. "Thanks, Eris." He muttered. Despite Eris's cocky attitude, Azriel was grateful for his help. Azriel rolled his eyes, but he grew amused at Eris's comments. He shook his head, burying his face in your hair and squeezing you both tighter.

Eris laughed, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Hey, someone's gotta bring the humor to these tense situations. You know cause you got that whole brooding dark prince thing going on, it isn't really your best look by the way."

"Cassian?" Azriel presumed with a hum.

"Called me right before you got to base."

Fucker, Azriel thought. "Of course he did..."

You couldn't help but smile at Azriel's banter and roll your eyes at Eris' comments. Even through the fear and pain, his presence was such a comforting force for you. You leaned into Azriel's embrace, feeling his chest rise and fall against your body. It wasn't long for your gaze to meet Eris. A tired smile marks your features. You mouthed a 'thank you' in return. For everything he'd done to help rescue you both. Eris tipped his chin in understanding. Azriel pressed his lips to your head once more before reassuring you it was okay to rest now. That they got you both out. That nothing would hurt you two anymore. So you did, you allowed yourself to succumb to your tired state, and closed your eyes.

[adderallinfluenced]

thorns

gabriel x reader

TW WARNINGS: violence, torture/manipulation, cursing, blood, drugging

When her brothers find out about her and Gabriel’s relationship, they get into an argument. She storms out, finding herself in a bad situation, and Gabriel saves her.

——————————————————

Dean paced the motel, anger written all over his face. Sam sat in the chair across her, brow furrowed. They’d found out about Gabriel, or rather, her relations with him. Needless to say, they weren’t happy.

They were working on a rather tricky demon case at the time, planting them down in the middle of nowhere. Gabriel’s company while she did research was a welcome one, until Dean had walked into the two of them getting busy.

Her brothers harsh voice cut her through her thoughts.

“Have you got anything to say? At all?” He snapped, “I mean, fuck, Y/N. After all the freakin’ bullshit his feathered ass put us through?”

“What he put you through.” She snapped, “Not me. He’s not like that, Dean.” He really wasn’t. He cared about his family, and he sure cared about her, as far as she knew. Bringing her little gifts, taking her to different places and giving her the chance to finally unwind from constantly moving from city to city.

Dean scoffed, “How long have you been fucking around behind our backs, then?”

“God, what does that matter? It doesn’t change anything.”

He didn’t reply, staring daggers at her. He gritted his teeth, biting back something harsh. If looks could kill, she thought to herself. She rolled her eyes, “Just under two years,” she muttered.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Her brother stared at her. “Two freaking years?”

“Do you even know what he’s capable of?” Sam’s voice cut in. He’d stayed mostly silent up to that point. “I can’t even count how many times he killed Dean; and I lived through it over and over and over. He’s immortal, Y/N, with the power to do nearly anything if he just thinks it.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” She threw back sarcastically. He rolled his eyes and sighed.

“My point is, he’s going to get bored at some point. They all do. As much as I love you, I really doubt you’re the exception here.” He finished.

“You guys hang around Cas.” She pointed out.

“He’s.. Thats different. It doesn’t matter. He’s bad news, sis. Nothing good happens when he’s hanging around, and you should know it.” Dean added. That fucking hypocrite, she thought.

“Can’t be that different, I’d almost say it’s very similar. Especially for you, Dean.” She retorted. Her patience was paper thin.

Hues of red crept up his face. Her jab had clearly hit the target, but it only pissed him off further. “That has nothing to do with this.” His voice was low, dripping with anger. “Why can’t you just listen to me for once? After everything I’ve done for you, I feel like you owe me this one.” He added.

“Like I owe you- Christ, Dean. Quit acting like dad. Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you’re in charge.” She hissed back at him.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Y/N. We’re just looking out for you.”

“Yeah? Controlling who I can and can’t see is looking out for me?” Her blood was boiling.

“Yeah, it is. Would it be so hard to listen? Are you capable of that?” How dare he?

“Dean-” Sam began, but her harsh tone cut him off.

“Screw you, Dean. I’m out. You can figure this out-” she motioned towards the mess of research papers on the coffee table, “by your damn self.” She stood up, and despite their protests, grabbed her keys and slammed the door behind her. She was hot with anger.

Making her way out her car, she unlocked it and slipped inside. It was a dingy old thing, but at least it was hers. She turned the key, and the engine rolled over, hesitating to start. Not now.. A couple more tries and it finally roared to life. She sat there for a couple minutes, thinking.

She pulled out, deciding an aimless drive was what she needed. Are you there, Gabe? She prayed out to him, I need someone to talk to. Silence. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting. He rarely did answer her prayers.

She turned the music up, allowing that to distract her further. She tapped her fingers against the wheel to the beat. The sun was setting, casting hues of purples, oranges and pinks across the sky. It was getting late.

Ahead in the road was a small bar and grill, and her stomach rumbled. She didn’t see herself going back to the motel anytime soon, so dinner sounded like a good idea. Grabbing dinner if you want to join, Gabe, she prayed to him, pulling into the parking lot.

The joint had definitely seen better days, but that wasn’t going to stop her from enjoying a few drinks and food. Letting out a sigh, she parked the car, waiting. Thoughts ran rampant in her mind. He wouldn’t get bored, she assured herself. Would he? She shook her head, trying to clear it. Briefly, she wondered if she should just head back to the motel. Demons were crawling through this town like termites to a tree. And it’s getting late, she added to herself; but she didn’t even want to think about her brothers at that moment. I’ll sleep in the car if I have to, she decided, stepping out onto the pavement.

She stepped inside, finding a seat at the bar. The bartender slid a menu over to her, flashing a friendly smile, “Haven’t seen you in here before. Just passing through?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” She replied, looking through the menu. “I’ll start with a vodka cran, tall. Thanks.” Sliding the menu back to him, he took it and nodded. She took in the surroundings of the small diner. It was rather slow; a couple folks took up the corner table, a pair played cards, another couple enjoying a dinner. Apart from chatter, and the dusty jukebox in the corner, it was relatively quiet. Almost peaceful.

“Tall vodka cran for the lady.”

The bartender was back. “Name’s Dusty, by the way.” He added, leaning against the bar. He eyed her curiously.

“Nice to meet you.” She wasn’t necessarily in the mood to talk, much less personalize with someone. “What do you recommend for a bite here?” She added, hoping he took a hint.

“You can’t go wrong with our burger.” He replied. “Want me to put one in for ya?”

“That’d be great. Thanks.” She sighed in relief when he turned back. Normally, simple conversation didn’t bother her, but she was too fed up with nearly everything to care.

She pulled her hand up to her forehead, rubbing her temples in frustration. Everything’s been going good for her thus far. They’d moved from hunt to hunt, executing each one damn near flawlessly. Her and Gabriel had grown close, too, and she felt as if she was in deep with the archangel. It was nearly every other day they’d see each other, the two dodging around her nosy brothers. Until that last time, she reminded herself.

Dusty made his back over, plate in hand. She turned her attention over to him. “Here’s that burger for you, Y/N.” He smiled, sliding the plate over to her. She froze, I never told him my name.

“I- Uh, thanks.” She tried playing it off. I need to leave. She wasn’t about to take any chances. All she had was her knife.

“I left something in my car. Keep an eye on that burger for me?” She attempted to lighten the awkward mood with a laugh, lifting herself up off the barstool, she made her way for the door. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, her heart pounding.

The man who had been playing cards stood at the door, blocking her way.

“Leaving so fast, Y/N?” His eyes were swallowed in darkness. Fuck. She reeled her arm back, swinging and making contact with his jaw. Surprise lit up his face, clearly not inspecting that from her. She pivoted around him, reaching for the door when another hand grabbed her arm, yanking her back.

Grabbing her knife, she twisted around to meet Dusty, only his eyes her black as well. She tried to stab through to his side, another demon grabbing her from behind. She struggled against them, shooting a glare up at Dusty.

“I’m betting you aren’t really Dusty, are you? Let me go.” She hissed at him. He laughed.

“Name’s Acteus, sweetheart.”

Acteus? That was the ‘ringleader’ of the demons they’d been tracking. She was in way over her head. Gabriel? Please help me, she prayed desperately towards her archangel. No response, yet.

“So now what? Kill me?” She snapped back at him.

“Kill you? No, I’m just here for some fun. You Winchesters are a pain to kill anyways.” He chuckled. When he stepped closer, she brought her foot up in a kick, meeting with his groin. He doubled over, and she tried to pull herself free.

“You bitch.” He looked up at her, pissed. Pulling his arm back, he hit her square on the side of the head. The world spun, and she slumped over, darkness shrouding her vision.

————————————————————————

When she woke, she had no idea where she was. The room contained a rickety table, a thick door and concrete made up each wall. Her skull itself felt as it was throbbing from where she’d been clocked over the head.

Dusty- No, the demon; Acteus, circled around her. The dirty concrete stung on the cut across her cheek, the ropes digging into her wrists. This is fucked. He twirled a fancy knife around in his hands, and dropped to a crouch in front of her, a smile plastered across his face.

“You don’t have to make this hard, sweetheart. We just have a couple questions for you, that’s all.” She didn’t respond.

He reached down and grabbed her face, directing her attention on him. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to tell us what we want to know. Cooperate, and we won’t have any problems. Got it?” He let go of her, pushing her head back into the floor. Her head collided with the concrete, sending dizzying stars into her eyes, and a groan escaped her throat. He stood up, and she remained silent.

“Got it?”

She flicked her gaze up to meet his. “Fuck off,” She hissed, and before she could say anything else, his boot collided with her ribs harshly. A loud crack echoed through the room, knocking the wind out of her lungs. She tried to catch her breath but all that came out was a weak wheeze, and she whined in pain. Gabriel? I really need your help here.

“You Winchesters are so stubborn.” He scoffed. “Speaking of, where are those brothers of yours? Where there’s one pest, there’s more, and I will not be taking ‘I don’t know’ for an answer.” He growled. He paced around her again, waiting for an answer.

She opened her mouth to say something snarky, and was cut off by another sharp kick to her side, and yelped. She looked up at him with rage in her eyes, and he clicked his tongue at her.

“You’ll have to be quicker than that, Y/N.” He drawled her name out mockingly, “my patience is very thin right now.” He crouched over her once more, pulling his blade back out. He lifted her shirt up slightly, revealing deep bruises already forming over her side. “That’s going to be a bitch to heal,” and he placed the tip of the blade over her skin.

“I won’t ask you again.” His gaze was fixed on her.

“They were at the motel down the road. How the hell am I supposed to know where they are now? We finished up our hunt here.” She lied. He cocked his head to one side, not breaking eye contact, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Is that so?” He lifted the knife up off of her, and her confidence grew.

“Liar.” He pushed the blade deeper, drawing blood, and in one swift motion, sliced down her side. She cried out in pain, her vision blurring. Gabriel, Cas, anyone. Please help me, she begged silently. She refused to give him any information. He stood back up, his boots making contact with her fingers, and they cracked under the pressure, sending white hot pain through her hand. When he stepped away, two of them were at an awkward angle.

“Oops. Did I step on you?” He sneered. “You don’t have to make this hard. You want out of here, I want answers.” He started, “I think we can make a fair compromise here, hm?”

Between her head, her side, and her hands, the pain was unbearable. Tears welled at her eyes, betraying her monotone expression.

“I hate you.” She hissed through her teeth. Another harsh kick.

“Wrong answer.”

He retreated back a couple steps, and threw the knife onto the table. “I’m not done with you yet.” He headed for the door, and paused, “If I were you, I would heavily consider cooperating.”

He was gone. Her mental walls broke down, tears falling down her cheeks, her whimpers echoing around the room. She was growing weaker by the second, and she knew it.

Everything hurt. Blood was oozing down her side, welling into a puddle on the floor. She couldn’t move her fingers, and her head felt as if it were about to split open. Exhaustion clung to her every sense, and she closed her eyes. I’m so sorry, Gabriel. For a moment, there was peace. The pain subsided, briefly.

In another flash, she was yanked back to reality. On one side of her, a man- no, demon, held her down. In front of her, she was face to face with Acteus, a syringe in his hands, injecting her with.. something. Her veins felt as if hot lava were running through them, and she struggled to catch her breath. He slapped her across the face, hard.

“You think you can die and have an easy way out?” He laughed, “I will bring you back over and over again until I don’t need you anymore.” They both let go of her, and she flinched away from them. Her heart was racing, it felt as if it her about to pound out of her chest. Her senses felt sharper, and she felt the aching pain of her wounds intensify. What the fuck did they give me?

“How about this Gabriel?” He asked curiously. “Word through the grapevine says he’s grown quite fond of you.” He eyed her, looking for any sort of reaction.

“What.. about him?” Her lungs felt like they were lit on fire, each word was a struggle.

“Don’t play stupid with me.”

“Does it matter?” Why does he care? She wriggled against the rope restraint on her wrist, casting a glare up at him. I won’t give him the satisfaction of breaking me.

“Oh, it does. He’s been quite a pain for us lately. Do you realize how much that archangel is worth?”

He smirked, placing his now bloodied boot over her side, applying pressure. She tried to move away, but he had her pinned. The pain was dizzying, icy cold darkness blurring the edge of her vision. Gabriel, if you can hear me… She silently begged, please help me.

“Come on, at least put up a little fight. I almost feel bad for you.” He stepped off of her, retreating a couple steps. The lights flickered, briefly, catching his attention. She could hear glass shattering from behind the door, the sounds of a fight filling the silence. Gabriel? Acteus stalked over to the door, locking it. He grabbed his blade from the table and turned back to her. He bent down and grabbed her by the hair, holding her down against the concrete.

“Those brothers of yours just can’t stay away, can they?” She flicked her attention up to him, with a more bewildered look in her eyes. No, it can’t be them. There’s too many demons up there. What if they.. She cleared her thoughts. I can’t think about that right now.

“Expecting someone else, Y/N?” He tightened his grip on her, pushing a knee into her side. “Come on, you don’t think we’re dumb enough to leave the place unwarded, hm?”

He clicked his tongue, “Well, I can’t imagine they’ll get too far. But just in case,” He pushed into her side more, deep pain causing darkness to cloud her vision as she cried out. “It might be best if I make sure there’s nothing left for them to save, hm?” He pulled his blade back out, pressing it against her throat. She tried to struggle away, but there was nowhere to go.

The lights flickered once more, and the door behind him splintered apart. Acteus jumped up, kicking her harshly to the side to face the intruder. He held his knife up, but faltered. Shock was evident in his face, but just briefly. His confident demeanor returned.

“Gabriel! What a surprise-” His voice was cut off as the archangel grabbed him by the throat, slamming him up against the wall. He swung his knife out towards his attackers side, stopping when Gabriel grabbed his wrist,

“How’d you get in here?” Acteus choked out, his hands struggling to pull Gabriel’s own off of himself.

“Wrong wards, dumbass.” His voice was laced with venom. She’d never seen him this pissed off before; angry, upset, irritated, sure. But this was a level of pure, unbridled rage she’d never seen.

“Hey- Come on, this is all a huge mistake. I’ll let her go, you can let me go and we’ll be on our way? This won’t happen again.” He rambled, and for once, there was fear behind his eyes.

“You’re right, it won’t happen again.” Gabriel righted his grip on Acteus’ throat, and the air crackled with energy. Sugar, close your eyes. Gabe’s voice echoed through her skull, and she screwed her eyes shut. The room lit up harshly, she felt heat radiating from the two. Acteus’ screams filled the room, filled with fear and pain, worse than nails on a chalkboard. As awful as the echoing sounds were, she had no empathy for him. Between the chaos in the room, her injuries and exhaustion, it was too much.

The light died down, and she opened her eyes to see Gabriel, and what once was Acteus. There was nothing left of him. Sleep and darkness lulled along her senses, and she couldn’t bare it further. She closed her eyes, the last thing she heard was Gabriel’s voice, begging his father to spare her, and comforting her as he desperately worked on her wounds. She slipped into nothing.

————————————————————————

Sunlight filled the room. She groggily opened her eyes, finding herself on her bed. Gabriel was sat on the of the bed, eyes fixated on the door. Keeping watch, maybe? She tried to sit up, groaning as her weak and sore muscles protested. His head snapped towards her direction, and he moved to her side.

“Woah, easy sugar,” He murmured, resting his hand on her shoulder. “I couldn’t heal you completely. You…” His voice trailed off. “The damage was too extensive. It’s been just under two weeks.” He finished carefully.

“Two weeks..” She echoed. Then it hit her. Her memories came crashing down, Acteus, that room, her fight with her brothers, the… damage he’d done to her. She lifted her cover up, and then her shirt, inspecting her side. Apart from light bruises, there was no evidence of any trauma. She looked up at him, “You came.”

“I almost lost you.” He whispered.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Gabe.” She replied with a weak laugh. His concern didn’t falter. She reached her arms out to him, pulling him closer to her. “I thought I was going to die in there.” She admitted. He moved to where he was lying next to her, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

“You almost did. I mean, fuck, I almost lost you. What if I had showed up a few minutes later?” He murmured.

She sighed, “I don’t know, Gabe. I’ve been able to take care of myself up until now. They took me by surprise, I guess.”

He stared at her, his golden eyes reflecting his emotions like panes of glass. He pressed a soft kiss on her forehead.

“How did you find me? I thought he had wards up.” She asked.

“He did, he just did a shit job at it. Your muttonhead brothers could do it better blackout drunk.” He replied, slight amusement edging his tone. Oh my god, my brothers. She hadn’t spoke to them since she’d stormed out of the motel, she realized.

“I was getting your prayers, sugar. I just couldn’t find you. Do you know how many buildings I tore up looking for you?”

She didn’t reply. She thought he’d just been busy, or ignoring her. No wonder he was so pissed, even before finding her.

“Sam, Dean- where are they?” She asked. Had it really been two weeks?

“Oh, they’re here. They weren’t happy to see me, and that’s an understatement. They won’t leave, something about not trusting me, or something.” He mumbled that last part.

She suppressed a giggle, “I can’t imagine why.”

“Do you want me to grab them?” He asked. She really didn’t, not yet. She wasn’t quite ready to talk to them. The comfort of her bed, along with Gabriel holding her was not something she wanted to abandon yet.

“No. I think I’m too tired.” She laid her head against his chest. “Rest with me?” She asked, peppering soft kisses along his neck. He sighed, melting into her touch.

“Sugar, you’ve been resting for two weeks, and archangels don’t sleep.” He replied, matter-of-factly.

“Okay, alright. But I can’t imagine you’ve done anything short of stressing and sitting right at the edge of my bed for the last.. two weeks.” She threw back at him. She knew she was right when he didn’t respond.

“That’s what I thought.” She added, stifling a yawn. “Just for an another hour or two?” She kissed right below his jaw again, and he took a deep breath.

“You drive a hard bargain, sugar.” He murmured, running his fingers through her hair.

“Thank you for saving me, Gabriel.”

He didn’t respond, humming and pulling her body close. She closed her eyes, the rising and falling of her angel lulling her to sleep.

[itshelfiredean]

Being Dean Winchester’s Daughter Would Include

1.) Dean teaching you how to drive in the impala, but he’s scared that either of his babies would get hurt so he would make up any excuse for you never to get behind a wheel. This of course ended with Dean catching you and Sam in a driving lesson and you both got yelled at for hours.

2.) Ever since you were in pigtails, Dean would always call you nicknames like “Kiddo”, “Rugrat”, or “Princess”. Your Uncle Sam would keep it rather traditional with “Sweetheart”,“Honey”, or your least favorite “Lil’ Dean”.

3.) Your dad and uncle would make lasting friendships through the years, but would hide them from you because they know that if you get attached, then it’ll break your little heart if they died.

4.) Dean taught you his music taste and basically forbid you to obsess over Bieber or Katy Perry, but you didn’t necessarily ‘love’ his hard rock music taste. You tended to favor Sam’s favorites such as The Beatles, Wings, and the Traveling Wilburys, but Dean got you hooked on Queen, Creedence Clearwater Revival, and David Bowie.

5.) If either your dad or uncle were killed on a hunt or by whoever, they made a deal to take you in no matter what the circumstances were because they would never abandon you like John would.

6.) If you were ever hurt or sick, Dean and Sam would put on this whole show of Dr. Dad and Nurse Sammy. They would dress up in scrubs and check you over all while keeping a playful charade. Your final treatment would always be 20 extra cc’s of tickles and of course rest. Unlucky for you, this carried on well into your teenage years even if they had to drag you down to the infirmary to do so.

7.) You always understood that family doesn’t end in blood. When you were a little girl that reached up to just below their knees, you had the best family you could remember. Uncle Cas was always around and would let you put makeup on him and style his hair, but little did you know that you taught Castiel how to open his heart to people especially to a little girl. That came in handy when he sacrificed himself for the sake of you and Jack against the empty. Then of course you had Grandpa Bobby, or “GrandBob”. Bobby would come off as a nasty old grump to everyone else, but to you he would do anything you said. He practically raised Sam and Dean, but you were different than they were at your age. Bobby saw you as Dean’s precious baby girl who deserved the sun, moon, and stars. And damn-it, he would lasso the biggest star in the sky if you asked him to. You grew up with many amazing men who would do anything to keep you happy, but no one compared to Jack. You were 16 when Jack was born and unlike your dad and uncle in the beginning, you did everything in your power to protect him from your family. You actually helped Jack run away when he was first new, but you knew damn well and Dean dragged your ass back to the bunker once him and Sam tracked you both down. After Dean finally cam around to your side and chose to accept Jack as a member of the family, it made it easier for you to get closer with the devils son. You both were never romantically involved, but your were destined to the two half’s of a whole. He was your Westley and you were his Buttercup. However, Dean wasn’t too happy with seeing you and Jack getting all buddy-buddy, but Sam convinced him that this was really the first friendship you ever had. All through your life, you realized that you had a huge family that loved you, and you loved them in return always.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Y/N age 6

“Daddy, would you still love me if I was bad and mean like Lucifer was to you and Uncle Sammy?”

“Kiddo, I would still love you if you told me that you completely wrecked the Impala”

“That must mean a lot because Sammy told me that you love ‘Baby’ more than anything.”

“You’re my real baby. I will always chose you over a stupid car. But don’t tell Sammy that because it always makes him mad.”

“I love you too, Daddy. I love you more than all of the stars in the sky.”

“I love you more, Princess. With all my heart and each and every grain of sand”

[destiel-wings]

Could you tell me what happens to Dean in The Winchesters?I watched SPN up to episode s15ep18 and gave up watching the end because I was so angry with what they did to Cas and what Dean had become, a big idiot.But I watched the end today and it made me curious about the future, even though I hated the end and Jack never saw Sam again and Sam didn't know Cas was alive.

Hi!

*SPOILERS AHEAD*

So, basically the Winchesters is set somewhere during Dean's drive in Heaven, before he gets to the bridge to greet Sam. After meeting Bobby he gets into his car and has a little detour, a trip in the multiverse to take a peek and see if there was one universe where his parents were/could be happy and things might've gone differently for all of them. So he drives there and changes some things when he gives a letter to his young father, who had just been back from the war and was starting to face some of his inner demons (PTSD), and that letter leads him to meet Mary. I don't remember exactly how and how much this changes things from what supposedly happened in "our" universe, but the vibe that it creates in the Winchesters is very much cozy and nice. Like, John meets Mary, but also Carlos and Latika, whom he befriends and they form a scooby-gang kind of group. He also has a close positive relationship with his own mother Millie Winchester, so basically he doesn't resemble much (or at all) the John Winchester that we got to know in Supernatural (not yet at least - although there are hints at how me might become).

But anyway, power of friendship aside, Dean basically only appears in the pilot and in the season finale, and that's where his character shines and the story of how this show entangles in the SPN universe is explained, so I would encourage you to watch that one episode if you're curious. Bobby and Jack appear there too, to help and then urge him to get back where he belongs (if I'm not mistaken) and so he greets his family (without telling them who he is) and gets back to heaven with the two of them.

What i love about all this is it demonstrates clearly that Dean didn't just take one long drive from the Roadhouse to the bridge to meet Sam *and bye bye greetings from the cast* --Stuff has happened during that long drive: he detoured to do a freaking trip into the multiverse to see if there was one version of his family where they could have it all differently, where his father didn't grow up to become a hard revenge-driven homophobe (last part never canonly confirmed but heavily implied), where he could maybe grow up with two happy parents (we can see John trying to meditate here to face his ptsd and latent darkness issues), where they could all have a future. The future that he was denied in our version of the story.

What i love about this Dean is how sad and mature he seems, but not sad as in depressed -mind me-, sad as in finally aware.

And i know that's unconfirmed of course and it's all just up to interpretation based on Jensen's incredible acting, but i feel like he conveys a Dean in heaven that seems to know and possibly accept more about himself. He just has a look on his face, I can't explain it, but that's how i see it (I've made posts about all this).

And also if he did this detour, who's to say he didn't do other ones?? Who's to say he didn't go look for Cas too, before he finally went to that bridge???

So basically what I love about The Winchesters is how it took that tiny bit of story (Dean's drive) and made it breathe, opening the story to a whole wide range of possibilities that are (yes, again) up to imagination, but at least now supported by canonical proof. It couldn't change Supernatural's ending, of course, but it did make it, in my personal opinion, just one tiny bit more tolerable. And that's saying a lot, given how shitty it was.

[firecurls-27]

Team chaotix headcanons bc I adore them and I’m fandom trash.

Charmy bee

6 - 9 yo. Realizes he’s pansexual when he’s older, he/him. Audhd.

(If human) I imagine him as Afro-Latin. Do I have evidence? No. But I feel it.

Has trouble reading (possibly dyslexic), but refuses to acknowledge or tell anyone and it bites him in the ass. “Hey man, what does that say?” “Uh…chicken kebab.” “Chicken keba- -that says ‘restroom’.” “Does it??” “Where’d you get ‘chicken kebab’ from???” “I dunno????”

Has no idea who his family or parents are or were. He doesn’t care. Vector and Espio are his family, and that’s that.

Used to call vector “dad” when he first started talking. Vector pretended not to like it. After he was officially hired as a member of the detective agency, he stopped calling vector “dad” and just called him by his name to sound “more professional” as Charmy called it. He started calling vector “dad” again when he turned 12 or so.

There was one time the Chaotix went on a dangerous mission and charmy almost got badly hurt. They thought it’d be a good idea to put him in daycare for a bit during the day so he’s somewhat safe and he gets to learn things.

It took 3 people to drag charmy inside the daycare. He did NAWT wanna go.

Normally is very polite and kind but will absolutely throw hands if you insult his friends/family or are mean in general. He’s got a 0 tolerance policy for bullies.

When he gets into a serious fight, he takes off his helmet. He headbutts.

Enjoys boxing and watching the boxing channel. He tried to train with some friends but it got out of hand and needless to say to say he sent 3 kids to the hospital. But at least he was victorious.

Knuckles is his boxing coach when they have time together.

Doesn’t have a lot of actual friends his age. He claims his best friends are Espio and vector. Which concerns them both because they want charmy to have friends his age.

Occasionally vector gives him days off and lets charmy roam the neighborhood to hang out with neighbor’s kids. Charmy isn’t really close friends with any of them, but at least it’s something.

But charmy ends up hanging out with cream and tails the most.

The minute charmy and cream met they saw each other as siblings. Like they both believe they came out of the same woman. When they get time to themselves they like to cause slight mischief around town.

Vector teaches him a lot about money, so charmy hosted a whole ass class to the neighborhood kids about how to commit tax fraud. You can imagine some parents were not pleased.

In real life, bees are known for being excellent dancers. You know damn well my boy charmy is tearing it up on the dance floor. You name a dance and he can dance as if he invented it. The moonwalk, the Prisiadki, the Charleston, any. Vector and Espio are insanely impressed.

If he didn’t love detective work so much, he’d be a food critic. He’s got a good flavor palette.

He likes to help tails test-drive with some new robotics if Sonic is unavailable at the moment.

He and kit have unspoken beef.

Speaks a little Spanish. He, Espio, and Ray like to shit-talk their coworkers speaking Spanish and none are the wiser.

Teaches cream swear words in Spanish.

When he got older and became a dad he called vector every 5 minutes to ask baby questions and to see if he was doing everything right. Vector had to come over several times for it to only be a minor fix. But he assures charmy that he’s doing a great job.

Espio

17 - 21 yo. Bisexual, he/they. Autistic.

(If human) Japanese.

Mommy issues. She genuinely does care for him, but is so insanely strict and uptight and it’s suffocating and one of the only people that gets Espio really riled up.

Close with his father, but he died under mysterious circumstances when Espio was around 12 or so. Espio still wonders what happened.

Has a couple younger sisters, but was never very close to them, as he was busy with ninja training.

I have some more backstory for him but it involves oc x canon and ik no one gives a shit lol /hj

left home at 15 and stayed at Angel island for a while.

I said it before in a personal hc and I’ll say it again. He unintentionally pulls bitches. Male, female, doesn’t matter. A client comes in, the job gets done, the client gives Espio their phone number personally. He doesn’t know why.

Espio has a whole drawer full of these numbers he keeps because he thinks they could be used to call previous clients for future cases. Vector seethes with jealousy and frustration.

Too young to be considered a co-parent, but too old to be considered vector’s son. So vector just refers to him as “family”, he doesn’t need a label.

His favorite food is dumplings, but this specific recipe his mom made. They aren’t on speaking terms, so he can’t get the recipe. Every time he tries to re-create it, it comes out wrong.

He can cook excellent Japanese cuisine, but because the ingredients are so expensive he can’t make any for vector and charmy.

Canonically speaks 17 languages, so if he’s pissed at his coworkers he speaks only a certain language they can’t speak. It drives them up the wall.

Has the potential to sing really really good, if he used his talent he’d be more popular than Elvis.

Learned shamisen from his father. He has a few sheets of music his father would play when he was younger, and tries to recreate the music.

Hopes to open his own tea house one day.

Looooves tea. Likes to drink it after a long day. Or sake. Depends on what kind of day he’s had.

Vector

21 - 35 yo. Straight, he/him. Adhd.

(If human) African-American, but he’d be from Louisiana specifically.

Momma’s boy. Learned from her to be kind to others without reward. He was closest with her.

Youngest of 30. The most picked on and got everything last. Thankfully, his momma made sure he gets food at every meal.

His pop was very hard on him, trying to toughen him up, but also never took vector seriously.

He ran away from home when he was 13 and lived in Downunda till he was 18 and met the other chaotix.

Writes to his mother every day.

Used to smoke until he adopted charmy. He’s done a good job at quitting!

Used to partake in Mary-Jane and lots of drinking. Stopped 1, bc of charmy and 2, bc he couldn’t afford it anymore. He saw it as his wake-up call in order to quit. …but every now and then if offered…

Babysat cream once in hopes of gaining vanilla’s favor. He spent the evening teaching cream tax fraud. Vanilla was not impressed.

Scruffs anyone shorter than him when arguing. Oh, talking shit? Get scruffed, idiot.

Cream is basically his daughter now, he’s such a girl dad. But doesn’t forget to give charmy equal amounts of love and attention.

Would die and kill for his kids. Don’t think he won’t.

Loves to DJ, and occasionally DJ’s for big events of the price is right.

Looooves jerky. If you give him some he’d kill for you. But if you give him one of those gross fake-jerky’s he’d kill YOU.

Used to have an awful swearing problem, and tries to keep it on the down-low after he had charmy. It was hard to stop swearing, but he did a good job. But of course the one time he swore, charmy’s first word became “shit.”

Chaotix

They once took a job at club rouge in hopes of getting some extra cash, but they were all fired after the first day. Vector was too aggressive with mean customers, charmy kept messing up orders and spilling food, and espio kept running off to use the slot machines.

They genuinely have no idea what happened to mighty and ray.

There’s a group of mean kids in their neighborhood that like to pick on charmy. Normally, charmy doesn’t say anything about it and takes care of it himself by trying to fight against them. He always loses and comes home with some bruises or cuts.

But there was one time he got roughed up a bit too much and broke his arm. Obviously Espio and Vector took him to the emergency room, but afterwards they decided to try and take care of the punks themselves. Then the parents.

After that they got arrested for aggravated assault. Vanilla had to bail them out.

They loooooooove the beach. They try to go as much as they can during the summer and spring.

During the winter, because Espio and vector are cold blooded, they get rather sluggish and more tired. As an addition to that problem already, their building doesn’t have good air conditioning, leaving them very cold and unable to do a lot around the agency.

it’s up to charmy to try and pick up the slack, and solve cases while he makes vector and Espio rest.

Turns out he can’t do every single job in the agency by himself, so he desperately asks cream and tails for help with cases. While vanilla helps trying to keep espio and vector from freezing to death.

When the temperature gets warmer and Espio and vector can move again, they give charmy a few days off so he can relax for all his hard work.

They have the dumbest conversations if there’s nothing to do. They once got into a fight about what color an orange is. Don’t ask.

They have a rinky-dink box tv they all have to share. If someone wants to watch a different channel they rock-paper-scissors for it. Vector always loses.

When charmy’s asleep, vector and Espio drink Sake together and discuss further finance decisions and business problems. But it ends up turning into stupid conversations either about childhood trauma or something funny they saw on the street.

Vector’s room consists of a twin bed way too small for him that only has one pillow and a blanket, a broken down record player, several draws of tacky jewelry, posters from bands and musicians that were popular in the 90s, a boombox, a closet of old clothes that don’t fit him anymore, and several dirty clothes on the floor.

Espio’s room consists of a futon he tried to diy but it’s lumpy and uncomfortable, a bunch of mix-n-match furniture he bought in attempts of trying to make it a somewhat not-sad living situation, several ninja stars and Shuriken’s stuck on the walls and ceiling from practicing and night terrors, said ninja stars and shurikens are also hid under his pillow and his futon, a few katanas are hung on his wall, and a closet of traditional kimonos, ninja outfits, and disguises.

Charmy’s room consists of a twin bed that’s a bit nicer than vectors but still messy, a baby blanket his parents gave him (the only thing he has from them), knock-off toys vector bought at the discount store, miscellaneous objects (such as wrenches, staplers, sticks, etc) that Charmy claims as toys, drawings he’s made, photos of the Chaotix’ on various adventures, several board games for “family game night” they’re all just different editions of the game Clue, and a closet with toys he claimed he put away, a couple winter coats, and several swimwear because he forgets where he puts them and ends up buying a new pair.

Bonus fella’s:

Mighty

16 - 22 yo. Omnisexual (masc pref), He/him. Audhd.

(If human) genuinely don’t have any idea, but he’d be from Texas no matter the ethnicity.

Grew up on a desert farm with his Pop and a few little siblings. Country boy. Left to peruse a life of adventure, but still keeps in touch with his dad.

Has an accent he tries to hide because the others tease tf out of him for it. “Hey have y’all seen-“ “y’all??” “Y’ALL???” “Stop.” “Y’ALL C’MERE N HELP ME WITH THE CHICK’N KOOP!!” “Stop it.” “BERNIE COME GIT THE DAYUM CATTLE ‘FORE IT EATS ALL OUR CROPS!!!”

Gym enthusiast. Loves to work out every day he can. And likes to help out people in the gym who struggle.

Used to have teeeeerrible anger problems, but he’s gotten so much better. He learned to calm down when he began taking care of Ray. Ray taught him patience, quiet, and self control.

Sweetie pie. Is the best to come to for comfort, he’s so polite.

Gives. The. Best. Hugs. Why do you think he works out so much?

Amazing with kids, likes to read them books if he ever babysits. And used to read storybooks to Ray.

After several years of practically raising Ray, he knew he wanted to be a dad. Problem is, he doesn’t have a partner he wants to raise kids with…

Ray likes to make homemade gifts, mighty keeps every single one no matter how misshapen it is or how shitty it’s made.

Ray

6 - 12 yo. Genderfluid when older, he/she/they. Autism.

(If human) Mexican.

Was about 3 - 4 years old when he met mighty, and has stuck by him ever since.

Ray used to call him “dad” but began calling him “brother” when he was 5. Mighty misses when he used to call him dad.

Can kick your ass in go-fish.

Not as smart as tails, but not as dumb as charmy.

Loves kickball. Is the best out of the entire group.

He, charmy, tails, and cream have flying races to see while fastest. He and tails tied.

Really good chef. Give him miscellaneous items in your pantry and he’ll give you a 5-star meal. Charmy is the taste tester.

He’s a real sweetie, but has a mischievous and sassy side that only comes out when he’s with kids his age.

His blue shoes were the first gift mighty ever gave him.

Spanish is his first language. Mighty taught him English, and he teaches mighty Spanish.

Becomes a professional chef when he’s older.

[jjscrybaby]

teenage fantasy masterlist.

CHAPTER ONE - pilot.

warnings: a few mentions of y/n, grief, smoking, drinking, language, kissing, gun violence, mentions of drowning, not proofread.

———

Arriving in the Outerbanks always feels like coming home. The sun is shining, birds are chirping, it’s like a scene from a movie. This time is different; this time, you and your brother aren’t bickering in the back seat over the last chocolate left in the packet, this time your dad isn’t snoring in the passenger seat because he stayed up late watching the football — even if he said he was working — the biggest difference of all is the lack of your mother, singing along to the radio, telling you and your brother to shut it and slamming on her brakes to wake your dad up.

This time, it’s just you.

Tannyhill always astounds you, no matter how many times you’ve driven up the driveway, you always feel your jaw fight the urge to drop at the size of the house. Your friends back home say that your house is big, they’d have a heart attack if they ever stepped foot in the Cameron’s home.

“Better late than never!” You heard a loud, teasing voice come from the front porch; your head turned to be met with a grinning Sarah Cameron.

Sarah had been your best friend since you were born. Two weeks apart but miles away. She grew up in the Outerbanks, paradise on earth, whilst your family lived in Charleston. Approximately 439 miles away.

“I’ve been driving all day, dickhead,” you called back as she came skipping down the stone steps, her white sundress swaying.

“I meant that we’re already a week into summer!” Sarah argued, barrelling into you. You squealed, giggling as her arms wrapped around your middle and yours around her shoulders.

Your dad had grown up in the Outerbanks, alongside Ward Cameron. He’d told you plenty of times he’d imagined raising his children on the same island he grew up on, but meeting your mom had changed that. They met on a night out, he just so happened to be in Charleston for the weekend and within the next couple months he was living there. Love changes things, or so he says.

“No Josh?” She questioned, pulling away from the hug to open up your trunk and retrieve your many bags.

“He’s heading here for Midsummer’s with dad,” you explained. Your brother and father hadn’t been set on the idea of spending the summer in Outerbanks, not without a missing piece of the puzzle, but you’d come to a compromise. You would head over a few days before Midsummer’s, they’d come for a week and then head home. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing.

“You’re just in time for dinner,” Sarah stated, changing the subject once she saw the light in your eyes start to dim. “Rose made spaghetti.”

“Lucky I didn’t stop at that In-N-Out then, huh?” You joked, making her snort.

“Idiot.”

The inside of the house looked the same as always, at least that hadn’t changed. Wheezie hardly nodded at you, she was thirteen now and most definitely taller than she was last summer. You remembered being thirteen, nothing was more interesting than your phone and the people inside of it.

“Nice to see you too, Louisa!” You yelled after her as she disappeared upstairs.

“She’s going to put a hex on you now,” Sarah murmured. “Rafe! Y/N’s bags are outside and you’re needed to bring them inside!”

“First of all, what did I say about yelling?” Ward appeared in the doorway, an annoyed yet fond look in his eyes. “Secondly, Rafe isn’t here.”

“Isn’t that a shame?” Sarah joked, making you scoff.

She was obsessed with the idea of you and Rafe getting together. It wasn’t necessarily because she thought he’d be a good boyfriend, but it would make the two of you sisters and if that meant you had to put up with her brother then so be it. You didn’t share that same fantasy.

“How was the drive, kid?” Ward asked, walking over to embrace you in a tight hug. “I did tell your dad I’d be happy to have come and got you.”

“And spent nine hours in a car with me? I doubt it,” you teased, making him chuckle.

His arms lingered around you. The last time you’d seen him was the funeral, but there were so many people around you’d hardly had time to breathe let alone communicate with the few there you actually cared about. It was lucky he was there, otherwise who would have gotten your dad out from the bathroom at the wake?

“I’ll have someone get your bags, don’t worry about that. Your rooms all ready for you,” Ward said, finally pulling away. “You got here just in time, there’s a hurricane tonight. Definitely not safe to drive in.”

“I heard, Josh was panicking about it. Probably why he didn’t come with me today,” you joked.

“I’m sure Michael will enjoy the company,” Ward shrugged. “Dinner’s ready, but we were going to wait for Rafe if you’re not too hungry. He’s been looking forward to you coming back, maybe a little too much.”

You just shook your head in amusement as Sarah muttered the word simp. Rafe was a gentleman, at least he always had been towards you, but he was also a snob. He cared too much about his appearance and too little about anything else. He was a nineteen year old college dropout who you were fairly certain was doing hard drugs from the random 3am phone calls you’d received over the last six months. If Rafe wanted to be with you, he was going to have to do better.

“I can wait,” you reassured.

“We’ll go for a walk. But if he’s not back by the time we are then we’re eating,” Sarah threatened.

“Did you not hear the part about the hurricane?” Ward sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

During the summer he doesn’t just have two daughters, he has three. Especially now that your mom isn’t here, and your dad won’t be for a few more days.

“I’ve been working all day with Scooter, daddy,” Sarah pouted. “C’mon, a ten minute walk along the beach hasn’t ever killed anyone.”

“Fine. But if you’re not back in twenty I’m coming to look for you myself. I’m sure that you don’t want that,” he teased, ruffling his daughters hair.

Sarah’s arm was linked through yours as the two of you walked along the sandy ground, shoes in hand and giggles leaving your lips as she told you about her new boyfriend. You’d heard a little about him during your FaceTime calls, she’d also posted countless pictures of him on Instagram. He sounded like a dickhead, but you weren’t one to jump to judgements.

“So, what happened with Denny?” You asked, hardly remembering her ex’s name. Sarah Cameron was a man-eater, she had been since you were eleven and starting realising boys weren’t that gross.

“He was insecure,” she shrugged. “Topper’s not like that, I mean, not really.”

“I’m already planning his goodbye party,” you murmured.

She laughed, swatting at you as she took a seat on the dry sand. You sat down next to her, taking a cigarette from your handbag and lighting it.

“Thought you quit,” she muttered, narrowing her eyes at the stick between your lips. You just shrugged in response, earning a sigh. “What about you, then? No men back home?”

“Fuck men,” you said, taking a long drag before lying down.

“You seem to be doing a lot of that,” she teased. You gasped in mock offence, holding a hand over your chest.

“Is the Sarah Cameron slut shaming me right now? Because I most definitely haven’t had six boyfriends this year,” you smirked back at her as she reacted similarly to you.

You didn’t do relationships. The last time you’d had a boyfriend you were twelve years old and you dumped him after two weeks over text. You knew how men were, especially teenage boys. All they care about is sex, the boys and beer. They don’t want relationships, they want someone to hang onto their every word and follow them around like a lost puppy. You refuse to be that girl, so sex and ghosting is your best bet.

“Maybe you’ll have a summer romance. Or maybe you’ll realise my brother is head over heels in love with you. Honestly, you being here is my favourite time of year; he’s always in the best mood,” Sarah grinned.

“Probably because he wanks off in his bedroom constantly,” you muttered.

Sarah gagged, smacking your arm as you started to giggle at your own joke. “You are disgusting. If you ever say something like that again I’m sending you home.”

“Yeah, right,” you snorted. It was probably the best threat she could come up with, but going home was the last thing you wanted to do right now. You’ve only just got to Outerbanks and you’re already dreadfully counting down the days until you’ll have to go back.

“C’mon, it’s been longer than twenty and I have a feeling my dad actually will come looking for us,” Sarah sighed, forcing herself up from the sand.

When the two of you arrived back to Tannyhill, a bike was parked down the side of the house. Only one person in this family would ride something like that. His voice echoed through the halls, he was complaining to Ward about something. For as long as you’d been coming here, Rafe and Ward never seemed to get along. They’d have their moments, like when Rafe got into college and Ward posted an appreciation post on Facebook that had you and Sarah giggling over FaceTime for hours, but for the most part they’ve just never seemed to click.

“And here I was thinking you’d be in a good mood for once,” you tease as you walk into the room, Rafe’s head snaps over to you.

A genuine smile breaks out on his face. “You look different,” he stated, walking towards you.

“So do you. What’s with the hair?” You snorted as his arms wrapped around you. He lifted you off the ground, making you laugh in amusement.

Rafe’s most definitely in love with you, that’s no secret. Ever since you were fifteen and grew boobs he’d been eyeing you up; but over time it seemed to change from an attraction to a real crush. Last summer you’d spent a lot of time together, Sarah had her first real boyfriend and she was infatuated — for a few weeks — so you went for the next best thing. One night the two of you had gotten high in the backyard and he’d opened up, telling you about how un enjoyable college was, how his relationship with his dad felt like it was never going to get better. It was the first time you’d really seen him.

“Wheez! Dinner!” Ward yelled up the stairs.

“I thought you didn’t like yelling,” Sarah smirked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Ward pointed at her, narrowing his eyes playfully. “I’m allowed. I’m the adult.”

Sitting at the dining table in between Sarah and Rafe as Wheezie told you all about the fallout she’d had with her ‘best friend’ felt like home. There were three empty seats, and your heart felt a little more heavy, but the smile on your face was genuine. You never knew how much you missed Outerbanks until you were there, but for the last seven months the only place you wanted to be was there.

———

The hurricane kept you awake for most of the night. The power went out pretty quickly, so you and Sarah just stayed up gossiping until you fell asleep. It was about 11am when you woke up and made your way down the stairs, plaid shorts and white t-shirt covering your body as you walked into the backyard.

“Whatcha doin’?” You asked with a smirk, arms crossed over your chest as you watched Sarah run and jump to chase away the birds.

“They’re trying to eat the mice!” She called back.

“You hate mice,” you said.

“I hate rats. Mice are different,” she retaliated, continuing to run and jump.

You giggled to yourself, watching in amusement before a clearing of a throat caught your attention. Rafe stood behind you, your signature mug in hand; lilac coloured with your initial on it.

“Made you coffee,” he stated, handing it over to you. “Could hear you and Sarah talkin’ all damn night, kept me up.”

“How chivalrous,” you teased, taking a sip. “Thanks, Rafey.”

“No worries.” He’d grown used to the Rafey a few years ago. Once you realised how much he hated it you’d started the nickname, it seemed to have become a part of your natural vocabulary now. “What the hell is she doing?”

“She’s saving mice,” you replied fondly.

“Of course she is,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

You swatted at his chest. “Don’t be mean. It’s cute.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured. “Any plans for today, then? You’re gonna have to actually get outside now that the powers out.”

“I think I’m meeting Topper. What’s he like?” You sighed. Sarah had told you last night that she’d made plans with Topper for the afternoon, but she wanted you to come.

“He’s a pussy,” Rafe responded bluntly, making you giggle into your mug. “I doubt it’ll last. But he’s been obsessed with her for a long time now, he asked for my blessing too long ago.”

You tilted your head at him, swallowing the sip of coffee. “So, you’re friends with him?”

“Friends is a strong word,” Rafe smirked. “I’m headin’ out, just thought I’d say morning. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, see you later,” you replied, giving him a smile.

Just as you were about to give up on watching Sarah try to save mice, Ward came outside with a woman you didn’t recognise. “Morning,” he greeted you with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sarah!”

“I’m busy!” She yelled back.

“What are you doing?” Ward questioned.

“The burrows filled with water from the surge. The birds are having a field day!” Sarah explained.

“The birds have to eat too, Sarah,” Ward sighed.

“No, it’s a mouse genocide out here. No!” She exclaimed, chasing off another one.

Ward looked at you, exasperated. You just shrugged your shoulders. “Just let her have it.”

“It’s the cycle of life is what it is, sweetheart. Now, come on,” Ward carried on, stepping closer to his daughter.

“Good luck with that,” you murmured, patting him on the arm before disappearing inside.

You got ready for the day, showering and washing your hair with Sarah’s expensive shampoo before getting dressed in a white bikini top and a tennis skirt. Sarah came up shortly after, she laid down on your bed and read a magazine as you finished up.

“Who was the lady? Ward having an affair?” You asked, in the middle of applying mascara.

“Scooter Grubbs’ wife. He’s one of dads… friends? I don’t really know. He hasn’t been seen since he helped out around here yesterday,” Sarah explained with a sigh.

“Jesus,” you murmured, looking back at her.

“I’m sure he’s fine. C’mon, we have to be at the club in half an hour,” Sarah explained.

You were meeting up with Topper and one of his friends, Kelce, for lunch and drinks — hopefully. Apparently Kelce was cute, so maybe you would have a summer fling, as long as he wasn’t going to expect any kind of commitment.

Sarah drove the two of you down there, she had a few warnings for you. Everything that’s said to Topper and Kelce gets back to Rafe, the two boys are quite snobbish towards the Pogues, they may come across as sexist but they’re just joking! Stuff like that.

Maybe you’d find someone else for that summer fling.

“There they are,” Topper grinned. Just his voice had you ready to flee. He stood, giving Sarah a kiss on the cheek before he turned to you. “And you must be the famous Y/N.”

“That would be me,” you nodded, accepting the hand that he held out towards you.

“I’m Topper, Topper Thornton. This is Kelce,” he introduced, nodding to his friend whose eyes hadn’t left you since you’d walked over.

“Nice to meet you,” you replied — lied — as you sat down in one of the spare seats.

Once you’d had a few margaritas, the two boys weren’t so unbearable. Topper’s unfunny jokes started to make you giggle and Kelce’s far from subtle flirting didn’t make you cringe quite as much. It was all fine, until a girl you didn’t recognise came over to the table.

“Have you guys heard about Scooter?” She asked, not even bothering with an introduction.

“Yeah, his wife came by earlier looking for him. Have they found him?” Sarah replied, sipping on her drink.

“Yeah, yeah they found his body. He washed up on shore earlier!” She exclaimed.

Everyone around the tables jaw dropped, even yours and you had no clue who the man was other than Sarah’s vague description. “What?” Topper questioned. “How did he die?”

“Drowning, I think. They haven’t found his boat yet, but he was out there last night,” she explained.

“God,” Sarah murmured, shaking her head as she looked down at the table. “That’s awful. Why would he got out during a hurricane?”

“Who knows,” she shrugged. “There’s a kegger down at the Boneyard, if you guys fancy it.”

“Who’s throwing it?” Topper asked quickly.

“Who cares? It’s free booze. Me and the girls are heading there soon if you guys want to join us,” she offered, eyes on Kelce. It seemed he had a few fan girls.

It took only one more drink for you guys to decide that the Kegger could be fun. The parties back in Charleston were usually thrown in a house, and the people that you knew weren’t all that into it so it had been awhile since you’d been able to let loose. Sarah’s arm was linked through yours as the four of you made your way to the Boneyard.

There were already dozens of teens there, covering various areas of the beach. There were certain people that you recognised from your years spent on the island, including non other than Kiara Carrera. There was a time her and Sarah were tight, so you’d spent almost an entire summer with the other girl. It was when you were back home when the two of them fell out, although you never fully found out why.

“What’re you doing, weirdo?” You laughed as Sarah climbed up on the phone booth.

“Looking at the view!” She exclaimed, giggling to herself as Topper stood underneath with his arms held out ready to catch her. He lifted her down and you smiled; maybe he wasn’t so bad.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” you stated.

“Want me to come?” Kelce offered, already taking a step towards you.

“I’m sure I can find my way,” you responded before turning around and heading into the crowd. You weren’t that easy, at least not for someone as snobbish as him.

You found the keg easily, due to the crowd that stood around it. There was a blonde sat behind it, his back to you as he called after a brunette boy. As you came in front of it he turned, and you swear your heart stuttered in your chest. He was utterly gorgeous, a charming smile played on his lips as he stared into your eyes.

“You’re new,” he stated. “Although… you’ve got a familiar face.”

“Is that a line?” You asked, tilting your head at him.

He held his hands up in surrender, chuckling deeply. “Nope. Not a line. I’m serious, I feel like I recognise you from somewhere.”

“I’m here every summer,” you explained. There was a high chance this mystery boy had seen you around before, but you were sure you’d never seen him. You’d remember a face like that.

“Well, I was going to say I coulda sworn you were in my dreams last night but now I’m thinkin’ I must’ve seen you around,” he responded.

A line like that from anyone else would’ve had you turning and walking away as fast as possible, but for some reason you found yourself laughing. “That was awful.”

“I know,” he chuckled, grinning at you. “So, you come here every year? What’s the occasion.”

You shrugged your shoulders, running your hand through your hair. “Nice place to spend the summer, right?”

“Can’t argue with that. Now, what can I get you? A beer or… a beer?” He smirked, tapping his fingers on top of the keg.

“I think I’ll go for the beer,” you laughed.

“A fine choice,” he nodded, grabbing a red-solo cup to fill up. He held it out to you, fingers brushing against yours as you took it. “On the house, you’re too pretty to charge.”

“Isn’t it on the house for everyone?” You teased.

“You’re really not lettin’ me get away with any of these lines,” he said, a smirk on his face.

“Okay, okay, try another one,” you giggled, taking a sip from your drink.

“It’s pretty loud ‘round here, why don’t we go somewhere quieter?” He suggested. You weren’t sure if that was a line or if he was serious, but you’d hope for the latter.

“I’ve always been told not to walk off with strangers,” you responded.

He stood up, holding his hand out for you to shake. “JJ Maybank.”

You didn’t intend to end up pressed against a tree with his tongue in your mouth, but it wasn’t your fault that he was so attractive. Maybe it was his goofy charm, or the fact he’d tripped within two seconds of the two of you wandering away from the crowd.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he murmured against yours lips, hands tight around your waist.

You hummed, hands in his hair. He groaned as you tugged on the ends of his hair, making you giggle. “I should get back.”

“What?” He pulled away, looking at you in surprise.

“What? Thought you were gonna get lucky against a tree?” You mocked. He narrowed his eyes at you playfully, pinching your waist to make you squeal.

“Can I at least get your number?” He asked hopefully.

“I’ll think about it,” you replied, pecking his lips before you began walking away from him.

“Your name?” He laughed.

You turned around and grinned at him, laughing as you carried on walking. He was cute, too cute. That’s not something that you can get yourself into, as much as you may want to.

“Where the hell have you been?” Sarah asked as you wandered back over to the group.

“Mingling,” you shrugged.

“I thought you were getting a drink,” Kelce stated, nodding to your empty hand. JJ had ended up kicking it over after you placed it next to the tree.

“I drank it,” you replied, taking a seat next to Sarah.

“Your lipstick is smudged,” she snorted quietly.

A couple more hours went by and you were ready to go home. Kelce had been trying it on with you all night, but every now and then you’d catch JJ’s eye and the thought of kissing Kelce made you feel a little ill. Sarah and Topper got up with you, the three of you started to make your way down the beach when a now familiar blonde stopped you.

“Hey, hey. Hey, Sarah!” JJ called, stopping the three of you. “Sarah, can I interest you in a tasty Milwaukee beverage?”

“No, thanks,” Sarah replied.

“C’mon. Is it not fancy enough for you?” He asked. He was most definitely more drunk than he’d been earlier in the night, his voice a little slurred.

“No. We were just leaving,” Sarah explained.

“How ‘bout you Miss mysterious? Want a drink?” JJ asked, turning to you with a charming smile.

You were going to accept, or maybe flirt a little, but Topper interrupted. He held his hand out towards the drink. “Hey, you know what? I’ll take it. I’ll— thank you, man. I appreciate it.”

“That’s a nice suggestion, Topper, but I didn’t ask you,” JJ replied, pulling the drink out of reach. “Now, if you said pretty please, maybe.”

Having come here so many times, you knew about the Pogues v Kooks war that went on. From what you could tell, JJ was a Pogue. You had no problem with that, honestly the whole thing felt a little pathetic, but clearly these two boys didn’t get along.

“Oh, pretty please,” Topper responded sarcastically.

“Yeah. So, Sarah?” JJ repeated.

Topper shoved JJ’s hand, causing the drink to splash over him. “She doesn’t want it, you—”

“Okay,” Sarah tried, and failed, to mediate.

JJ shoved Topper backwards, but he didn’t get far before his friend was jumping in front of him. “No, no, no, no.”

“You’re so funny, man!” JJ yelled towards Topper.

“Hey,” JJ’s friend said, trying to calm him down.

“Dirty Pogues!” Topper shouted.

“Topper,” you sighed, shaking your head. It took all of two seconds for JJ’s friend to come storming over, pushing Topper.

“John B,” another friend warned, giving you the name of the now angry looking brunette. “We’re supposed to be incognito, remember?”

“Babe, babe, babe, babe—” Sarah repeated just before Topper threw the first punch.

John B fell straight into the water, the crowd started to grow as people let out gasps and Sarah carried on trying to intervene.

“Come here,” you ordered, grabbing her arm before she could accidentally get a smack.

“Hey, John B, don’t make me drown you like your old man, alright?” The words that left Topper’s mouth had your stomach turning.

Sarah had told you about the older man that went missing. Big John, if you were remembering his name correctly. His body hadn’t been found, but he was presumed to be dead and long gone at the bottom of the ocean. You didn’t know he had a son, but clearly this boy in front of you is him.

This boy in front of you was far too similar to you.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” The crowd chanted, like immature teens. Maybe it was a good thing you didn’t go to many parties back home.

John B got to his feet and charged at Topper, you couldn’t bring yourself to blame him. There were people back home, at school, who had made comments about your mom, you understood how that felt.

“Give it to him, man!” JJ exclaimed. You shook your head at him and he shrugged. “You want me to root for Topper? No one’s hot enough for that.”

For a moment, it felt like John B was winning. He had the upper ground, and every time he fell he got back up, but soon enough things took a turn. Topper flipped him into the water, but he wasn’t letting him up for air. His hand rested on the back of John B’s head, holding him under.

“What the fuck is he doing?” You exclaimed, looking to Sarah in shock.

“I don’t know,” she replied anxiously. “Topper, stop! No!”

“Sort your friend out!” You yelled to Kelce, who was stood there doing absolutely nothing. You definitely didn’t regret not kissing him.

“He’s drowning him,” one of John B’s other friends said to Kiara.

You watched as JJ made his way over, but instead of him pushing the Kook like you were expecting he held an object to his head. It took you a second to work out what it was, but when you did your stomach dropped.

A gun.

“Yeah, you know what that is,” you heard JJ say confidently. “Your move, broski.”

“JJ!” Sarah exclaimed, panic all over her face.

“He’s got a gun!” The crowd began to disperse, leaving behind just you, Sarah, Kelce and John B’s friends.

“Put the gun down!” Sarah pleaded.

“Did you say somethin’, Princess?” JJ asked sarcastically, not even bothering to turn and look at her.

“We’re good. We’re good,” Topper stated as he began to stand up, hands in the air.

“Kie! Can you check your psycho friend, please?” Sarah exclaimed, briefly turning to look at the other girl.

“Okay, everyone, listen up! Get the hell off our side of the island!” JJ yelled, holding the gun in the air before shooting twice. Panic ensued, groups running off in different directions to get away from the boy waving a gun around.

“Are you crazy? You idiot! Why would you do that?” The other boy yelled as Kiara shoved JJ.

“I’m saving his life, okay?” JJ argued.

You turned to look at John B, watching as he fell back into the ocean. You cursed under your breath. Sarah was helping Topper walk away, as if he’d actually been shot. You ran over, grabbing the boys head and yanking him up. He groaned, eyes opening.

“C’mon, can you stand?” You asked, looking down at him.

He winced, but nodded his head as he allowed you to help him up and out of the ocean. As soon as you were on the sand he collapsed to the floor and coughed up a lung. You cringed, but patted his back nonetheless.

“It’s alright,” you mumbled, looking around for some help. Kiara caught your eye and her face fell, in the midst of the chaos it seemed she hadn’t noticed you yet.

She rushed over, kneeling down beside John B. “You okay? Huh? Still breathing?”

“Yep,” he replied, giving her a weak thumbs up.

“I didn’t know you were here,” she stated, turning to look at you in annoyance.

You hadn’t even done anything to her. Sarah and Kiara had fallen out and therefore the two of you weren’t friends anymore. It wasn’t like you lived there and had to choose, not that there would be much of a choice. Sarah had always been your best friend, so if she didn’t like someone then you didn’t either — in most cases

“Well, here I am. I guess you have this sorted, so I’ll be going,” you muttered, standing up. “Uh, feel better soon.”

“Thanks,” John B replied, giving you a small smile.

“I didn’t know you were friends with them,” JJ said, face upturned in disgust as he wandered over to the three of you.

“She’s friends with Sarah,” Kiara explained quietly.

“We’re like Romeo and Juliet,” JJ smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You didn’t answer, just rolled your eyes and began to walk away. “See you later, Juliet!”

You flipped him off over your shoulder. You don’t date, but you especially don’t date men that run around with guns.