#still sittin over in my figurative corner but i throw this into the middle of the room on a napkin

[rcseadorned]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤi ran so far away ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤi couldn't get away

⤗ an original take on madame web for insomniac's spider-man

[lacontroller1991]

Blue Ain’t Your Color (Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader)

Author’s note: Finding a gif of Obi-Wan that I haven’t used is becoming more impossible as I continue to write fics; Also this one is not a request.

Author’s note 2.0: Based on the song ‘Blue Ain’t Your Color’ by Keith Urban

Warnings: Binge Drinking; angst

Summary: Reader in Anakin’s girlfriend; however Anakin has been seeing Padme behind reader’s back and she finds out, which leads to her drinking problem, then Obi-Wan comes in and admits his feelings for reader.

I can see you over there

Starring at your drink

Watchin’ that ice sink

All alone tonight

And chances are 

You’re sittin’ here in this bar

‘Cause he ain’t gonna treat you right

Being with Anakin had it’s ups and downs. The downs being him sneaking off in the middle of the night to the the Senate building, to upper Coruscant, and to Padme. Although he didn’t know that you knew of his little love affair with the Naboo senator, the weight of keeping his little love affair on the down low weighed down on you, hence why you sat at a bar alone in the lower slums of Coruscant slinging back shot after shot, not noticing the piercing blue eyes that watched your every move.

Obi-Wan cowered in the corner of the dirty bar, hands clasped in his lap as he watched you drink yourself until you pass out; but tonight was different. Feeling the pair of eyes on you, you scanned the room looking for a possible threat only to see the ginger Jedi staring back at you. Turning back to the bartender, you motioned for two shots before making your way over to your lover’s master and sitting next to him.

“What are you doing here Obi-Wan?” You asked as best as you could, the alcohol already changing your motor functions. Politely refusing the drink, Obi-Wan looked at you with sadness as you shrugged and chugged down the two shots.

“I am making sure that you are alright,” Obi-Wan responded as you giggled and placed your head onto the table, looking up at him.

“Fine? I’m perfectly fine,” you stated before letting out a burp before a stream of giggles followed.

“Darling, you’re not fine. Let me help you.”

“No one can help me Obi-Wan, Anakin made sure of that.”

Well, it’s probably not my place

But I’m gonna say it anyway

‘Cause you look like

You haven’t felt the fire

Had a little fun

Hadn’t had a smile in a little while

Baby

Obi-Wan took your hands in his as he pulled you up, throwing you over his shoulder while you pounded against his back.

“Let me down, Kenobi.”

“No.”

Changing your tactics, you remained still as you and him walked up to his speeder. Setting you down in the passenger side, he strapped you in securely as to make sure that you in your drunken state didn’t try anything stupid while he was driving. Crossing your arms, you let out a huff as he began his way to the Jedi temple.

As you guys approached the temple, a familiar figure walked towards his speeder with R2 following closely behind.

“Don’t mind him, he’s not worth it (Y/N),” Obi-Wan tried to soothe your unease as you scoffed at his statement.

“I love him and I thought he loved me, but no it will always be that senator won't it? What is with you male Jedi and falling for a senator.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Obi-Wan stuttered, feeling a pang in his chest when you mentioned that you loved Anakin and when you admitted to knowing about him and the Duchess of Mandalore.

“Anakin with Padme, and you with Satine. Like, no wonder why Jedi aren’t supposed to form attachments,” you mumbled as he sighed, running a hand through his locks before looking back at you.

“I don’t love Satine, (Y/N), I love someone else,” confessing to the very thing he’s sworn to not do, you quirked an eyebrow before a wave of nausea hit you, hunching you over the side of his speeder and spilling out your stomach.

“Come on, darling let’s get you cleaned up.”

Blue looks good on the sky

Looks good on that neon buzzing’ on the wall

But darling, it don’t match your eyes

I’m tellin’ you

You don’t need that guy

It’s so black and white

He’s stealing’ your thunder

Baby, blue ain’t your color 

Stepping out of his refresher in his robes, you smelled tea wafting through the room as Obi-Wan cooked you some food. 

“(Y/N), you need to eat, it’ll help with your nausea,” placing the plate in front of you, Obi-Wan’s eyes lingered longer than they should have and you noticed this.

“Why do you keep staring at me?”

“It’s nothing,” turning away, Obi-Wan focused his mind of the boiling pot of tea that sat on the stove. Getting up, you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Obi, what are you not telling me,” you whispered into his ear as he poured two cups of tea.

“I love you. I hate that Anakin is tearing you down like this. I want to be the one you love, not him. Let me help you, we can be happy together,” Obi-Wan stated, grasping you in his hands as a blush crept along your face.

Well, I’ve had enough to drink

And it’s making me think

That I just might

Tell you that if I were a painter I wouldn’t change ya

I’d just paint you bright

Baby

“Obi, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything, you’re not in the right mindset, go get some sleep,” he commanded as you nodded, laying down on his bed that he insisted you use for the night instead of walking back to your quarters. Quickly falling asleep, your mind began to fill with thoughts of what it could be like with Obi-Wan.

While you slept, Obi-Wan sat on the floor, hovering over the wooden boards, meditating on what to do once you woke up. Thoughts of you rejecting him or Anakin finding out about his feelings towards you plagued his mind as he grew frustrated with meditation. Giving up, Obi-Wan sat on his couch, watching you as you slept peacefully.

“She’s not going to remember any of this,” hanging his head low, Obi-Wan laid across the couch and slowly drifted to sleep.

‘Cause blue looks good on the sky

Looks good on the neon buzzin’ on the wall,

But darling it don’t match your eyes,

I’m telling you,

You don't need that guy

It’s so black and white

He’s stealing your thunder

Baby, Blue ain’t your color

Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered opened, adjusting to the bright lights that shone through the window. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes before turning around and looking for your sleeping form, only to see you missing as his bed make neatly up.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan muttered as he got up and got ready for the day.

Walking down the halls, a loud giggle caught his attention. Turning his head to the noise, he saw you hoisted in the air with Anakin’s arms wrapped around your waist.

“Put me down Ani,” you commanded as Anakin’s fingered continued to tickle into your side.

“Not a chance (Y/N). You broke our promise,” Anakin joked before Obi-Wan cleared his throat, jealousy raging through his veins.

“(Y/N), don’t you have somewhere to be this morning?” Obi-Wan asked as Anakin let you down, noticing how red your face got. You face never got like that near Obi-Wan.

“Something happen between you two?” Anakin asked as you shook your head, whispering a quick goodbye to Anakin and a slight nod to Obi-Wan before scurrying off to the training that your master had in place for you.

“Nothing happened, I drove her home last night. She was at the bar again drinking.”

“She’s always there,” Anakin mentioned as Obi-Wan stared at him with annoyance.

“And that doesn’t concern you?”

“Why should it? She’s responsible, plus Senator Amidala required my assistance last night.”

“Anakin, she has a drinking problem. What did Padme need so desperately at midnight that you could not watch (Y/N)?”

“What do you care anyways Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked with anger as Obi-Wan sighed and began to walk away.

“Because I actual care for her,” walking away, Obi-Wan ignored the perplexed look on his Padawan’s face and ignored the jealousy that surged through his veins.

Blue looks good on the sky

Looks good on the neon buzzin’ on the wall

But darling it don’t match your eyes,

I’m telling you,

You don’t need that guy

It’s so black and white

He’s stealing your thunder,

Baby, blue ain’t your color

Author’s Note 3.0: I hope you guys enjoyed this song fic as much as I did ❤️❤️

[queen-scribbles]

OC Interview

Rules:

1. Choose an OC.

2. Answer as that OC.

3. Tag 5 people to do the same. 

I was tagged by: @haledamage Thanks! (I have so many freaking OCs, I’m always a safe bet for these things xD) Not going to tag anyone else though, unless @captainofthefallen still needs an excuse? Consider this a tag, if so. :D

This time around I’m gonna answer with Jas, circa where she currently is in-game(tail end of 4711, mid-Varnhold Vanishing; tracked down two of the three Defaced Sisters for Along the Cold Trail, so no spoilers, please. I’ve already seen some big ones and wanna avoid any more)

–------

1. What is your name?

She swings her legs for a minute, seemingly tickled by how far they are from the floor, before registering she’s been asked a question. “Huh? Oh! Sorry, Jasiri Swallowtail. But please, call me Jas.”

2. Do you know why are you named that?

“Well, Jasiri’s from a.. ridiculous number of greats-grandmother or aunt who was an explorer” --she waves one hand with a laugh--”and Swallowtail’s the family name.” A wink. “Though that did work out well when I pledged myself to Desna.”

3. Are you single or taken?

The infectious joy dims significantly, and her expression is pensive as she devotes all her focus to twisting one of her rings. “Um.... that’s complicated right now.” 

4. Have any abilities or powers?

She brightens. “Desna gave me a whole bunch of cool stuff I can do through my faith in Her; healing people, curing stuff like poison and blindness, protect people, throw fire at bad guys.... it’s a really long list. And my parents used to joke I’m supernaturally curious and energetic, so maybe those count, too?”

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

She cocks her head, twirling a loose wisp of hair around one finger. “I’m not; I’m Jas. Don’t know anyone named Mary Sue, though I did have a friend named Susanna growin’ up.”

6. What’s your eye color?

“Grey-green, though which one stands out more depends on the light and what I’m wearin’.”

7. How about your hair color?

“Dark red.” She tugs on the wisp she’s twirling as if to emphasize the words.

8. Have any family members?

“Oh, lots,” she nods happily. “Both parents are still kickin’, last I heard, and I have five sisters, all but one older’n me,”

9. Oh? How about pets?

“OH! You haven’t met Ember yet?!” She hops down from the chair and almost skips to the doorway, giving an unusual trilling whistle. “Em! C’mere, there’s a new friend!” A few moments pass before a frankly adorable red panda somersaults into the room, and she beams as she scoops it up, careful not to step on the tail trailing between her feet. “There you are! Say hi to a new friend.” She “helps” it wave one paw, then scratches it under the chin before setting it down again to climb back in the chair. It amuses itself playing in the corner as she continues, “There’s also a cat named Tiger hiding somewhere, and this really cute stray dog that followed Octavia home from one of her ventures out to Spruceheart, but I dunno if that one counts as mine, since he likes her a little bit better.” 

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now, tell me something you don’t like?

She purses her lips in thought and taps one finger against her chin. “The standard stuff, I guess. Y’know, people who hurt innocents or take advantage of them. Also, being stuck inside too long. Snow. And peaches.” She makes a face. “Can’t stand peaches. Don’t ask me why.”

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

“Climbing trees, exploring, reading....” She ticks them off on her fingers. “I enjoy pretty much anything if I can do it with a couple really good friends, honestly.”

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

She shrugs, pick at a scab on one knuckle. “Some, yeah. Mostly good ol’ physical violence if I couldn’t solve things with talking--I’m a really good talker--but I’m sure there’s people I’ve hurt with things I said.” .

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

“Same as I just said; ones I couldn’t talk down, yeah.”Another shrug. “Some people are just lookin’ for a fight. Or I say the wrong thing.” She wrinkles her nose. “I do feel kinda guilty for those.”

14. What kind of animal are you?

“You mean, what would I be if I was an animal? ‘Cause, I mean..” she gestures at herself. “Pretty sure I’m a halfling. But if I was an animal, I’d either wanna be an otter or a red panda like Ember. Look at her, she’s so cute.”

15. Name your worst habits?

She snorts good-naturedly. “I talk too much, leap before I look, and say things without thinking.”

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

She snorts and grins mischievously. “Almost everyone; I’m not even four feet tall.” A pleased wiggle follows the joke. “Or is that not what you meant?”

17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

“Straight,” she says with an airy shrug.

18. Did you attend school?

“Yeah, for a while.” She giggles. “Sitting still was torture, though, and I managed to persuade my parents I could learn just as much from explorin’ the world as I could from a book.”

19. Ever want to marry and have kids one day?

That pensive looks flickers again, and she starts twisting the ring, though she does keep eye contact this time. “I... wouldn’t be opposed if the right guy wanted to.”

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

“Oh, yeah. They almost manage to balance out the detractors,” she says with a self-deprecating grin. “I’m very popular.”

21. What are you most afraid of?

“Drowning, I guess?” She taps her chin thoughtfully. “Yeah. It’s a scary way to go, and between my height and the fact I usually wear heavy plate armor, it’s a.. present concern for me around water.”

22. What do you usually wear?

“Somethin’ comfortable,” she shrugs. “Shirt and pants, dresses, whatever fits my mood. Gotta be bright colors, though.”

23. What’s one food that tempts you?

“What’s one that doesn’t?” a new voice mutters out in the hall--miraculously still loud enough to be heard.

Jas rolls her eyes and twists around to kneel on her chair so she’s facing the door. “No one asked you, Jubilost!” She returns to a proper seated position, flashing an angel-innocent smile, “I do love all things sweet, but there’s an extra special weakness for chocolate ice cream. And kameberry pie.Oh, no, my biggest temptation would be sweet pancakes. Yeah, that.”

24. Am I annoying you?

“Oh, not at all!” She grins. “I love talking to people.”

25. Well, it’s still not over!

“Okay!”

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

“Well, as Baroness, I’m pretty sure I’d count as high class?” Her nose wrinkles. “But I’m still confused by the ins and outs of nobility and politics and all that, so maybe upper end of middle? My family’s pretty solid middle class, though.”

27. How many friends do you have?

“Lots, though the exact number varies by how many people are in the room,” she jokes, toying with the carved butterfly talisman that hangs around her neck.

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

“Give it to me, all of it, right now.” She laughs and half-grimaces. “Unless it’s peach pie. Then the opposite, keep it away from me.”

29. Favorite drink?

“Never really thought about it,” she admits breezily. “I like a lot of things. Maybe milk? Or honeyed mead, that’s really good.” 

30. What’s your favorite place?

“There’s this flat rock that overhangs the river out behind Willowmere that’s the perfect distance from the surface to hang your feet in the water or skip stones.” She starts to smile, then gets distracted by a clearly less pleasant thought. “Up a tree’s always good, too. You can see for miles. It’s great.”

31. Are you interested in anyone?

She clears her throat and fidgets, looking down into her lap as she fiddles with her ring again. “...Yes.”

32. That was a stupid question…

“Not really, everyone wants to know if I’m spoken for.” She flashes a reassuring smile, dazzling as the sun. “I’m used to it, you’re fine.”

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

“Hmm... Lake, I guess. Less chance of being swept off never to be seen again.”

34. What’s your type?

“Quiet’s good, to balance me out. Blond’s nice. And sharing a passion for seein’ the world. Oh, compassionate, that’s a big one...” Her voice trails off, and she looks toward the window as a figure clad in white passes below. “Can we move on?” 

35. Any fetishes?

Her face colors ever so slightly and she clears her throat. “If I had any, I wouldn’t share them with a stranger.”

36. Camping or outdoors?

“Yes to both, as often as possible.” She bounces a little in the chair. “Sleeping under the stars is so much better than indoors. And on that topic, I’ve hit my limit for sittin’ inside when it’s so nice out. Maybe we can talk more later.” 

And with that, she hops down from the chair and darts out the door.

[the-energon-hole]

Hey um I know this may sound a little weird but if you didn't mind um I struggle with Suicidal thoughts and Self Harm would you be willing to write Comfort for it with Team Prime? or is it over the line??

((A/N I don’t mind writing things like this- I just want to let you know if you are starring down that hole and you fell like you could walk over that edge, please don’t do t. Get help- I’ve been there so many times, I’ve been a long time sufferer of depression and anxiety that I know what to look for in yourself when things just become to much for me to handle. You are strong, and I believe in you being able to get through the hard times.

These are all derived from real feelings and are all the wrong ways I’ve tried to cope with these feelings. Once I opened up to people they were almost always willing to help me through the times in which my ind is foggy and I can’t see past my own senses. Support is so important, get help if you need it, no one should think less of you for it.))

Optimus Prime

You were a sobbing mess as you stood there practically bare and raw in front of the illustrious leader of the Autobot cause, and arguably, the most important being in the entirety of the universe. He explained how he bore witness to your self destructive behavior over the last few months, and he was growing with an increasing concern about your well being and emotional situation. You broke down right then and there in front of the Prime, sobbing so hard you began to hiccup and practically choke on your own breath- you were not used to someone as important as Optimus giving you attention, let alone confront you about such sensitive and private things.

You were not ungrateful, just genuinely surprised that someone would even take notice.

“Take all the time you need, young one.”

His baritone voice was soothing as you rode out your small breakdown in front of him, as he not once removed his attention from you even though you were certain his time was better spent elsewhere. You sniffed a few times and wiped your now sticky and puffy face on the sleeve of your jacket.

Explaining things to him was hard, just because you have never had someone to confess your pain to so wholly. At first you were in doubt he would understand- he was an all powerful being, why would he care about the suffering of one measly little squishy like you? You were shocked when he took his hand and gently stroked at your dry and sticky cheek with his digit as he explained a similar situation he faced back home on Cybertron- emotional support was important no matter what species you were, and he promised from now on that if you needed a face to vent to that he was more than willing to help yu work out your problems with you. He even said if you couldn’t work out a solution to your problems right way, it’s always nice to just share and talk about what you are going through.

Your heart melted as he opened himself up to you, no one has ever offered it before, and it made you so grateful that someone in this universe actually cared about you. You hugged his hand tightly as you cried a little bit more as you felt yourself unwinding just a little from the knot you had bunched yourself into on the inside of your mind.

Ratchet

As someone in the medical professional field, especially in his line of work and expertise, mental health if probably one of the most important subjects right up there next to making sure one has a safe place to sleep and a good source of energon. He took notice of you sitting alone in the dark in the base all by yourself and decided to investigate to make sure everything was alright- he didn’t want to pry, but he was noticing dangerous signs in you that he has seen all to often in his fellow bots.

You were displaying self destructive behaviors in a way that gave little or no regard to your own life, and it scarred him a little. He even researched human psychology on the internet to see if your behavior was normal or not.It wasn’t.

He confronted you, and all you could do was stare at the floor and whine a little at what felt like an out of nowhere attack on your character. You aggressively explained how things in your life aren’t going so hot right now, and that nothing you do seems to be working and it was just making your whole situation worse. You were surprised when after you basically yelled and screamed at Ratchet, the infamously hot tempered doctor, he just placed a hand on his chin and looked deep in thought.

He wasn’t going to yell back? THrow something at you? Make you want to jump off of a bridge?

“What you are displaying are classic signs of human depression- from my research it is beneficial for me to tell you that you are very valid in what you are experiencing and feeling.”

He told you Cybertronians have a similar illness, and the best way to cure it is with therapy and drugs, but since you didn’t have access to the drugs you needed to fix the chemical imbalance in your brain- well, Ratchet took it upon himself to go out of his way to do little extra things to make you happy, and to also act as your faux counselor until you can find a real qualified one.

You cried when he said that, you never knew this old rusted bucket of bolts could be so kind, maybe you should bare your soul to people more often- most will understand, ad the ones who don’t are not worth your time.

Bumblebee

You sighed as you sat in the middle of the desert, just staring at nothing as you were dissociating, but that was better than the other option as those involved letting your anxiety take over you thoughts with intrusive ideas to hurt yourself so badly you can’t recover from your injuries. It made you sick to think that your brain would show you such things, whisper such things, and insist it was the best thing for you to do.

You didn’t notice Bumblebee sitting next to you, and you didn’t notice the sun begin to dip over the horizon.

He beeped at you with concern.

You did hear that though, and you checked your phone to notice you did in fact lose many hours just sitting here in the dusty dirt staring at the same barrel cactus and you couldn’t help but let a few tears fall from your eyes as you sniffed to try to keep your composure together, Bee doesn’t need to see you like this- no one needs to see you like this. This is your problem and no one else’s problem… Right?

He beeped at you sadly and placed a comforting hand behind your back for you to lean into, and honestly, you were happy he did so because it finally hit you how tired you really were.

“Hey Bee, do you ever get like, you know- thoughts of hurting yourself so frequently that you are afraid you might actually do it?”

He beeped at you with concern as he nodded his head yes- he also did his best to give simple beeps in mores code for you to translate explaining that growing up seeing as much war as he has, it was something he thought about often- his method of dealing with it was talking about it with the other Autobots, and allowing them to distract from those terribly intrusive thoughts until before you know it they are just gone and you never have to worry about them coming back.

It was sound advice, and you sniffed one last time as you smiled when he offered you a ride back to civilization- you two can talk about it more once you get cleaned up from all the dirt and dust that has accumulated over you from sittin gut here alone for s long.

Arcee

Your obsessive pacing and muttering was starting to get on her ast nerve as she was trying to focus on the work she had to do in front of her- and since you and her were the only ones in the base she figured she should let you know your behavior was grating on her last nerve. SHe called your name multiple times in multiple tones, but you were unresponsive as you chewed on your thumb and continued to mutter things she couldn’t quite make out.She knew something was really wrong then.

She tapped you on your shoulder and you let out an unholy scream that rattled her to the very core of her being, and once you were done screaming and panting you began to look around as if you were confused as to where you were and what was going on. You asked her what day it was, how long have you been here, were you even still alive or was this the after life in which you had to experience. Ok, now she gets it, that one question made it all very clear to her.

“You aren’t feeling well, are you?” She asked as you looked up to her with tears in the corners of your eyes.

Oh, everything was horrible, you couldn’t sleep at night because the urge to just thrust yourself upon a knife was just so strong you were afraid you were actually going to do it .You tried so many things to take your mind from your pain, but nothing worked- no video game, movie, or task can make you forget what is troubling you. She stopped you right there as you began to pace and mutter once more, and she was genuinely afraid you might lose control of yourself.

SHe transformed and basically forced you onto her seat- and without any words once you placed the helmet upon your head she took you out for one of the longest drives you have ever been on. It was so soothing to just watch the small town disappear in the horizon as you made your way basically to the next state over just seeing how beautiful the world was- this was the distraction you needed form all the noise.

Once you returned you cried a little as she stood in front of you, quite tired herself as long drives always made her sleepy. She insisted that if you need to talk to come to her right away, and that she was mostly down to drive you in any direction at any time if you ever needed it. Long drives have always helped clear her head, and she was pleased to find out that it can help you clear the fog of anxiety in your mind as well.

Bulkhead

You must have been wailing louder than you thought you were, as you dew the attention of the nearest by Autobot, which happened to be one of the biggest gentle giants you have ever come across. He didn’t ask you what was wrong and he just acted on instinct as he lifted you off the ground and pulled you up to his chest to let you finish crying about whatever was upsetting you. He noticed recently that you were a little more sensitive than usual, always ready to fight with the other kids in the group- it was concerning for him as he didn’t want all fo you to lose your friendship over something that can be fixed.Once you were coherent enough to speak, you told Bulkhead all of the things that plagued your mind. He listened and nodded, giving small responses as he let you vent and speak in hopes that maybe it would help you feel better.

It did. A little.

“I know the feeling, I get like that to sometimes- things seem hopeless and sometimes it feels easier to just think maybe if you weren’t here things could somehow magically get better- but they won’t.”

He explained how being thrusted into a war no one even wanted to fight, it always left a sour taste on his glossa to slay and kill other Cybertronians he would have once happily shared a glass of high grade with. Life’s hard- and he was no psychologist or whatever, but he knows how overwhelming things can get when all of those little things stack up and you can feel yourself become so agitated you are screaming at inanimate objects that can’t respond to your bad behavior.

He suggested talking to Ratchet about it, because he was a good doctor and could help for more things than just those of physical ailments, he also offered to be here if you needed someone to scream at-he can take it. He pounded his chest with his fist in a way that made you laugh while he explained his skin was so thick that nothing you can say will penetrate his armor! It was sweet of him to offer to let you scream at him anytime you are feeling frustratingly destructive, but maybe just having nice quiet talks in enough to make you feel better.

What a big and bulky sweetheart he turned out to be.

(04/28/18)

[jetfuel-cantmeltsteelbeams]

Disney Christmas 2k17

Timeline: New Court

Location: The Four Seasons, Orlando Florida

Characters: Braxis Draekmol, Amelie Smithe-Nightengale, Balthazar Draekmol Smithe-Nightengale, // Astor Smithe-Nightengale, Béla Király // Jaxon Mile, Nicolette Blythe-Demmekke, Astraea Demmekke, Alexei Demmekke // Talyn Blythe-Demmekke, Alastyr Delle // Ashlae Summers, Casimir Luce, Logan // Mattea Cross, Luna Luce

Song Used: King Kunta by Kendrick Lamar

Summary: Braxis has just enough time to hide Amelie’s ring before meeting his newest challenge yet // Astor tries to draw a few laughs out of her warrior with a little singing and dancing // Jaxon returns to their hotel suite after a training session to find his beautiful wife taking a nap with her little cousins // Talyn and Alas find a middle ground to finally learn about each other // Ashlae sets up her gear and settles in with some bad news from her devices while watching Casimir // Mattea struggles with Evryn’s infidelity as she shops with Luna and Nicolette on the strip.

Day One

Braxis Draekmol stood in front of the fancy bathroom mirror, towel drying his black hair as he stared at the little black box on the counter. He’d picked it up weeks ago, before all this shit had hit the fan. Ever since, he’d kept it hidden at the bottom of his bags, wrapped and hidden deep in his spare pair of boots just in case his little painter decided to unpack for him.

Amelie had just about been snatched from their room upon arrival by her sisters, leaving the dragon to fend for himself in the large, luxury suite. He’d known that the queens had money, had his own small fortune squired away between mortal bank accounts, but this type of fugle spending, he was still getting used to. Amelie chalked it up to something about dragons and their need to hoard, but he brushed it off due to her fantastic ass. 

Setting aside the damp towel, he reached for a pair of fresh boxers and drug them up his hips, unable to ignore the box that seemed to stare him down. What to do, what to do…

“Bray?”

With a soft curse, the dragon snatched up the offending box, clutching it as if she could see through walls. He could hear her heels on the wood floors as she searched through the rooms for him, getting closer to the bathroom.

“Yeah- one second.” Scowling, he scoured the room for a place to stash the ring, anywhere she wouldn’t look.

Her voice called from just outside the bathroom door. “Bray, come look! I got us a present- you’re gonna love it!”

“Shit,” he cursed on a breath. He’d brought the box with him into the bathroom for his shower, afraid she’d get back and unpack before he was finished. Now he was trapped with the damn thing unless he could find-

On the counter, a small array of hand towels arranged in swans sat in the corner. It took a second to find one big enough to stow the box in, but if he set the others in front, it wasn’t too noticeable.

Satisfied at the temporary fix, he loosed a breath before opening the door to find his beautiful brunette holding what looked to be a small white handbag.

“What did you get, little love?”

Her grin stunned him, even after all this time. The way it split her face, narrowing her blue eyes- his chest tightened at the sight.

Until her arms came out, and she was holding the bag right in front of his face. A tickle began at the back of his throat almost immediately, and the dragon frowned a second before turning away to sneeze.

Once. 

Twice.

“His name is Balthazar and I love him.”

And when he turned back, brows furrowed as he tried to piece together her words, a small pink dot appeared seconds before the white bag leaned forward and licked his nose.

As he focused, he realized that it wasn’t a bag at all, but a small, fluffy, canine.

Black eyes- eyes that were beginning to itch with irritation- narrowed on the queen before him. “No.”

Her smile turned into a pretty pout at the word. She clutched the dog to her chest, petting its head- or what he assumed to be it’s head. It’s body was one puff of white fur. “Love, do they even allow dogs in here?”

That beautiful, glossed bottom lip extended even more as she answered. “They let Astor in, didn’t they? Oh Bray, he’s so cute and I love him and I know you’ll be best friends-”

“I’m allergic to dogs.”

“No you’re not.”

“I can literally feel the hives forming.”

“They make ointment for that.”

“I’ll eat him.“ 

“You wouldn’t dare.“

“Amelie.“  “Braxis.“

“No.”

“Yes.”

By the first dragons, he was going to have to live with this creature.

“Oh, I got a bone to pick. I don’t want you money mouth motherfuckers sittin’ in my throne again!” Astor Smithe bounced her ass in time to the beat of the music she had turned up to a staggering volume. Dressed in one of her warrior’s t-shirts and panties, her face reflected the lyrics she sang.

“Bitch where you when I was walkin’? Now I run the game, got the whole world talkin’, King Kunta.” Out of the corner of her eyes, she spotted her Berserker in the doorway, resting a shoulder against the frame as he watched her with amusement dancing in those hazel eyes. Turning, she pointed at the tall Hungarian as she sang along. “Everybody wanna cut the leg off him, Kunta. Black man takin’ no losses. Bitch where you when I was walkin’?” Barefoot, she made her way over to him, bringing herself to the middle of the front room from the bed. “Now I run the game, got the whole world talkin’. King Kunta.”

Her hair fell in waves down to her waist, messy from the quick blow out she’d done after her shower. “When you got the yams- what’s the yams?” Her voice turned up as she sang both parts, throwing her eyes to the ceiling while twisting her face in an innocent, vapid expression. “The yam is the power that be.” Snatching up a shirt she’d discarded over an armchair, she tossed it in the direction of her warrior, letting it fall on the floor at his feet. “You can smell it when I’m walkin’ down the street!”

Her lips exploded in a dazzling grin. Reaching for his hand, she pulled him further into the room, encouraging him to dance with her along to the beat. “Most of y’all sharing bars like you got the bottom bunk in a two man cell.” Pinching her nose, she pretended to be a diver. “Something’s in the water- something’s in the water.” Tapping her chin, she smiled up at him. “And if I got a brown nose for some gold then I’d rather be a bum than a motherfuckin’ baller.”

Jaxon Mile released a breath as he walked down the hotel hallway, fishing the keycard to their rooms out of his joggers. He’d spent the past few hours in the private workout rooms, finally working off the urge to pound away at a bag that he’d felt for days now. He stripped off the gear Ashlae had gifted him to help track his training progress, excited to see the results on his tablet inside.

1145. He slipped the card in, pushing the door open once the light turned green. He frowned as he shut it behind him, taking note of the dim rooms and silence-

Not silence; a soft snore called to him, familiar as the rhythm of his own heartbeat. Satisfaction warmed his chest as he made his way quietly through the rooms until he found it’s source.

In the giant white bed, she’d pulled the covers down halfway. Her black mane had been pulled into a messy bun, as if thrown up in an afterthought before passing out. He could make out her grey tank top, an arm outstretched to lay over the two smaller forms curled up beside her. Astraea hadn’t even been changed from her dress, her face pressed into Nicolette’s chest with her brother sprawled spread eagle on his back, two loose fist laying on the pillow.

Jaxon’s hand came up to rub at the ache in his chest as he watched them doze, amazed at the things that brought him comfort these days. He’d never known his wife to take naps, but the midday exhaustion these days barely kept her from falling out around noon.

This vacation was good for her, good for them all. He made his way to the side of the bed, reaching out to brush a stray lock from her cheek.

Her chest rose, and his wife turned to flicker her lashes up at him. “Jake?”

“I’m here,” he whispered through a smile. “Go back to sleep. I’m going to wash off.”

Her reply was lost to the grogginess, and in seconds she was out once again.

Talyn Demmekke reclined on the patio chair, fully engrossed in the book splayed in his lap. He’d changed as soon as they left for their rooms, exchanging his jeans and t-shirt for a black tank top and grey sweats. On the table beside him, a bowl with herbs smoldered beside a stack of tombs he intended to read. The prince was fully relaxed amongst familiar smells and sights, happy to be left alone with his books for company.

And just when he thought this vacation was exactly what he needed to release some tension in his mind and soul, the double doors to his private patio crept open.

As soon as he glanced up from the page, the tiny redhead was frowning down at him. “Is this how you have fun?”

Talyn’s cheeks flushed red, as they always did when she was around. His child bride, his little mate. Sometimes he even envied his twin, who’s emotionless demoness was barely speaking to him these days. At least Evryn didn’t have to deal with a decade long age gap with his mate- just a moral one.

“I...” He cleared his throat before shutting the book in his lap, marking the page with his finger. “Yes?”

Alas shifted her stance, twisting to read the title over his shoulder. Riotous, red curls fell in his face, and the prince struggled to mask how her scent affected him by shifting the tomb in his lap. “The Art of War, by Sun Tzu.” She read the words slow, like a child that was still learning their pronunciation.

Which, he figured, she was. “It’s a collection of military strategies, written over generations of Chinese war generals.”

She frowned, fixing him with those eerie, mismatched eyes. “Why do you read it?” she asked.

He tried not to notice her low cut white top, or the slim curve to her waist, or the pale alabaster skin of her thighs where her shorts cut off, or those eyes that seemed to soak in everything they saw. So he watched her lips, which wasn’t much better than all the rest in taming the blush he was sure tinted his cheeks. “It’s… a good book.”

Her smile, hesitant and unsure as it was, sent his heart stampeding at an uneven rhythm. She took the seat of the patio chair beside his, hands folding in her lap as she waited.

Talyn’s brows rose. What was she waiting for?

Her smile faltered in the silence, as if second guessing herself. A pale, white hand came up to tuck a strand of fire behind one ear. “Will you tell me about it? I don’t know many things.”

The first lesson he’d learned upon entering the Brotherhood of Scholars; the first, and only true truth a man should speak was the admittance of uncertainty in all things. The quest for knowledge began at the crossroads of pride and ignorance; to pursue it meant forever taking the mindset of a student, foregoing arrogance in favor of humbly asking, always, why?

And so Talyn focused his eyes on the tomb in his lap, furrowing his brows as he called to mind what resided in the pages before him- then traveled to the true definition of war, and took a sideroad to the argument of defining justice. Which, of course, brought him back to his favorite philosophy debate; Socrates’ question ‘what is justice? How do we define it?’

Minutes had passed in silence before he realized she was still waiting for him to speak, and his mind had run away from him once again. “I’m sorry,” he offered on a nervous chuckle. “Do you want me to tell you about the book I’m reading?”

Alas shrugged, a very un-princess like gesture. Her own cheeks heated as she stammered a reply. “I… don’t know many things. My brother has teached me so much, but-”

“Taught.”

She frowned, cheeks burning from a pale pink to a bright auburn rose. “Taught. My brother has taught me so much.”

Talyn smiled, giving her a look of encouragement before setting the book on the pile he’d stacked by the table. “What is one of your favorite things?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. This was beginning to feel a bit easier, he realized.

Her eyes lit up, the colors of green and blue nearly shocking him silent as she spoke. “I like the sky very much.”

“Then we’ll talk about astrology.”

Ashlae Summers turned in place, arms locked around the somber toddler on her hip as she glanced back at the shopping proposal Nicolette shouted to her pink headed mate. Luna looked unsure, worrying her bottom lip as she debated on giving her sister an answer. 

“Ash will watch Cas while we shop, Luna, won’t you? We’ll pick you up a dress while we’re out- you don’t like all that hassle anyway. We’ll take care of it for you.” 

Nicolette had a point- Ashlae hated clothes shopping when it came to fashion versus comfort. Apparently her opinion was always wrong in the eyes of the queens. ‘No, you can’t wear a hoodie and jeans to a ball’ had been thrown in her face too many times for the hacker to really care what went on her body, just as long as it covered the essentials. 

Giving Casimir a soft bounce to get him higher on her hip, the caramelatte nodded once and even meet her partner’s concerned gaze. Fighting down the fury that rose, Ashlae told Luna, “I’ve got him- he needs a nap anyway.” 

Relief lit the Hell Queen’s features, and though she hated it, she added, “Something comfortable, please. And dark colors- don’t put me in yellow again or I’ll shred your ball gowns soon as we get back.” 

1152. “I think this is our room, Cas,” she murmured to the toddler babbling softly in her ear as she fished in her deep pockets for the key card. The plastic revolted her- she knew first hand how easy it was to break through the security with nothing more than a well placed scanner and some patience. 

The light flashed red to green, and Ashlae let out a soft gasp at the room laid out before her. Luxury upon luxury- something she could truly appreciate, given the hovels she’d spent the better part of her adult life hiding in. 

Soon as she closed the door behind her, she flicked the latch to slide the bolt home. “Wanna play with Logan, Cas?” The baby’s giggle of excitement warmed her chest, drawing a smile of her own to play on her lips. “Alright, alright. You’re gonna make me jealous.” 

Setting the toddler in the middle of the California King bed, Ashlae set up a pillow bumper system around him as he waited patiently on the white comforter. 

Drawing the backpack from her shoulders, she flipped through the padlock on the zipper until finally, her hand was fishing deep in the middle compartment. “Ah,” she breathed, pulling out a 6x4 white box. She pressed a pattern into the flat surface until a soft hum brought the box to life. 

“Logan?” 

In her earpiece, a melancholy voice answered. “Yes?” 

“Boot up Mystique software, Casimir’s update, the latest mod. Lets work on our animal names today.” She counted the seconds it took for the hum coming from the box in hand to shift, telling her the upload was complete. She’d only gotten to eight before seamless compartments began to contort and adjust themselves, until she set a white monkey about the same height and size of the toddler on the bed. 

And as he clapped, squealing in excitement as the animal moved around mimicking the real thing, she spoke again into her ear piece. “And find what room Arik’s in. Have flowers sent there tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, Miss Summers.” 

“Make sure he doesn’t fall off the bed, please. Scan the surface, alert me if he gets near the edge.” She didn’t wait for a response before she started to move, digging in the backpack until she found the devices she searched for by texture and touch, setting each piece out in front of her as she needed it. 

Striding to the door, she placed small black bricks on the wall. “Any type of floral arrangement in particular, or should I pick the flowers myself?” 

Drawing a device from her pocket, Ashlae let out a snort of amusement as she unfolded the flexible glass until the flat surface of her tablet snapped into place. Immediately all of her technology came to the screen under their given nicknames, thanks to the print reader on the back that scanned her hand for security. “Set a reminder later tonight to look at your personality code. I don’t remember programming sarcasm into your response generator.” 

A soft bell sounded in the background of her earpiece, and on the tablet a notification for her schedule appeared. “Reminder set. The floral arrangement?” 

“Gardenias. A dozen or so will do.” 

“Miss Summers, if I may I don’t think a man of Merlin’s caliber will appreciate a floral arrangement such as gardenias.” 

She tapped away at the screen of her tablet, until the tech blockers blinked twice, a soft green light to alert her of their battery being switched on. That would keep any scanner rendered key from coming within arm’s length from their door without sounding an alarm. “Maybe not, but whatever woman he takes to bed tonight might enjoy them in the morning. What girl doesn’t like gardenias?” 

“Understood. The receipt has been sent to your email, payment taken from your personal accounts.” 

“Thank you, Logan.” She flashed a grin to the bed, where Casimir was giggling at a small white pig that oinked in his face. As she passed, she ruffled the mass of snow white hair on his head before setting the rest of the contents of her bag on the desk. “Start up the security check software, have it scan all the devices in this room that aren’t mine. Alert me of any two-way paths.”

“Yes, Miss Summers.” 

Her projectors took no time to set up in front of the television, extending from three little black boxes she set on the stand. As she waited for them to boot and flicker her screens, she shed the heavy black hoodie she’d worn for the trip, tossing it onto a chair in the corner. 

Her brown gaze took no time scanning the information they displayed, mind running at the outputs as her hand absently scratched at the flexible black brace Arik had fitted to her wrist, which ran all the way up to just before her elbow. 

“Are you ready to see your health summary now, Miss Summers?” 

As her eyes continued to scan the results of what her security scan had turned up, she nodded absently. “First screen, all mobile devices that receive transmissions, please.” As she finished reading the results, the first projector’s content flickered to display a rotating mirror of her body, small blue dots pulsating where the devices on her person were relaying information to be read. 

“Shut down that media connection that’s coming from the television,” she muttered, eyes glued to the green and black text and read off where a potential threat could push through. Her body moved almost on instinct, eyes never straying as her hand tapped twice in the right spot on a grey box, and again on a shiny black one by it’s side. “That’s the transmitter and the router powering on. As soon as they come online have the transmitter block all noise outside my rooms, and use the router’s wifi so that the communications between all devices isn’t lagging.” 

“Yes, Miss Summers. Now, your health status needs some reviewing.” 

“First, I want to be sure this room is silent.” 

“Understood. Countdown to silence in sixteen, fifteen, fourteen...” Ashlae broke her gaze from the displayed information to turn back to the bed, offering a grin to the boy calling out “Lion! Roar!” as a miniature of the animal crouched by a pillow to his side, hide wagging in the air.  

“That’s right Cas, roar!” 

“...Three, two, one. Radio silence from the transmitter. Router has been brought online, and is now in use.” 

“Thank you, Logan.” She turned back to the desk, rolling out a large black mat that had been the hardest to pack and setting all of her devices on it’s soft, warm surface. “Any trouble in charging?” 

She watched every green light come on, but still waited for the sordid reply in her ear before turning away. “No, Miss Summers. All devices are online, in use, and charging. Now, please. The health statistics need reviewing.” 

Ashlae rolled her eyes, even though the software couldn’t appreciate how extravagant an eye roll it really was. Dropping to her knees, she plugged the mat in before speaking. “I’m ready for the report. Go ahead.” 

“Thank you, Miss Summers. Now please, if you’ll face the given displays we can begin.” 

She made a face that, again, went unappreciated before straightening, casting one last look at the bed- a horse now, as Casimir squealed “Pony!” - and turning her attention to the projected displays. All three had merged together to show her miniature floating in space, the seven devices she wore pulsing blue and now red for her attention. 

“Miss Summers, you should know that Mr. Merlin has checked on the status of all devices multiple times since you last asked for a report.” 

A scowl took her lips as Ashlae crossed her arms, the mesh of black on her forearm warm against her flesh. “I had a health report on the plane ride this morning.” 

“My information still stands to be accurate.” 

“How many times did he check, exactly?” 

“Twenty-seven checks as of thirteen minutes and eight seconds ago.” Speaking over her scoff, he continued. “All levels were reviewed from each device and cross examined multiple times. The shortest review log is three minutes, thirty-two seconds. Longest log stands at forty-nine minutes, six seconds.”

“What was I doing during the time of that log, the forty-nine minute one?” 

“Sleeping, Miss Summers. On the plane, I believe.” 

Once again, brown eyes rolled. “He’s such a creep. Is there any way to deny him access?” 

A soft pause sent her brows rising in surprise. “Not unless you’re willing to trash his hardware, I’d say no.” 

“I wrote the software!” 

“He’s not using your pathways to glance in, Miss Summers. There are pre-existing pathways in a double layer of hardware, we’ve been over this.” 

“Are you sassing me, Logan? Do you need another personality modification? It’s been awhile since I really sunk my teeth into that code of yours-” 

“Again, Miss Summers, if you’ll turn your attention to the screen, I’ve brought up the most immediate concerns for your inspection.” As he spoke, her projected miniature shrunk and slid to the right of the screens, making room for the text that read out her results over the past few hours of activity in a quick summary for each device. 

On her body at the moment, she wore a few detachable pieces such as the wristband watch on her right arm, the brace on her left, the earpiece Logan spoke to her from, and the white patch on her right shoulder. All four relayed different health statistics to her health database and could be taken off at any time. But some pieces weren’t so easy to shed, such as the cranial implant, the chip in her left calf, and heart monitor deep in her muscle of her chest. All three had been surgically planted in her body years ago, the software cracked and updated once she left from the company that claimed to own her very thoughts. 

“That’s not so bad,” she whispered to herself as she scanned the data. Her temperature had spiked around three, only by a few degrees and hadn’t lasted long enough for a medical override alert. Other than that, there wasn’t much to worry on-

“Have you gotten to the data relayed from your brace, Miss Summers?” 

Shifting her eyes, she re-read the information displayed beneath the device’s name. Dread crept up the back of her throat as she expanded the synopsis. “It’s spreading, then.” 

“And rising in temperature by a fraction of degrees every few hours. I would have missed it myself, except that’s the device Mr. Merlin spent the majority of his forty-nine minute log pulling up. He’s been monitoring that rash as it spreads- an inch every twelve hours, it seems.” 

Dread turned to cold fear as she watched the display as it zoomed in on her forearm, the brace breaking off her miniature to project a 360 degree view of the mysterious rash that had appeared on her wrist two weeks ago. 

She could only assume that it was a side effect of coming into contact with one of the vials she’d broken in her escape from the lab a month ago. “What about the chemical readings from my calf implant and cranial patch?” 

“Nothing abnormal from what we’ve logged the past three weeks since it was added to the log.” 

Ashlae sighed, taking a step back from the interface and waving a hand as if wiping it all away. The gesture triggered a response from her projectors, erasing the health summary and instead reading her current hacker tag. 

Hell Cat Co. turned in place, the logo colored with a pastel pink and beige undertones. “Are we still silent?” she asked, turning from her tag to watch Casimir give the overgrown white puppy a yank on it’s tail. 

“Quiet as the grave, Miss Summers.” 

Her lips twisted in an amused slant. “Was that a joke, Logan?” 

“I am not programmed to joke, Miss Summers.” 

“Right.” Another eye roll for the ages. “Can I get a party location update, please?” 

“Certainly, Miss Summers. Allow me a moment to find everyone, if you will.“ She murmured that she’d wait, absently rubbing the mesh brace with her free hand as she watched Casimir giggle at the howling wolf before him. “By relevance, Little Love and Hell Cat are together, medical status similar to last logged check.” She grinned at the boy on the bed. 

“Dark Dove, Little Princess and Little Prince status suggests sleep, Cheshire within relative distance that would suggest similar rooms being occupied.” Nicolette, Astraea, and Alexei must be napping then. She’d be surprised if Jaxon left their side at all, let alone the damn room. Overbearing den cat that he was. 

“Raven and Child Bride share a location.” Talyn and Alastyr must be getting along, then. Good, she was glad that they were taking this vacation as an opportunity to learn more about each other. 

“Dawn and Smaug also share a relative location.” Braxis hasn’t left Amelie’s side except to let the goddess piss; if she were less of a logic-centered person and more of a gambler, she’d have bet the house on that part of the update. 

“Twilight and Battle Axe have accelerated heart rates, would you like me to look closer?” 

A sly grin split her lips, and Ashlae shook her head. “No, that won’t be necessary. Continue with the report.” The goddess and her warrior had been going at it like bunnies in heat- she was almost sure she’d caught sight of them coming out of the commode together on the flight over. 

“And that’s all for this level, would you like me to search beyond this floor?” 

Her heart skipped a beat, and she was sure Arik would notice the abnormalcy in his neck check-in.  “Relay location for My Love.” 

“On ground floor, in close proximity to Maleficent, Little Fire and Little Ice.” Relief flooded her as she realized that they must be checking out the play area downstairs. Mattea had been walking around with Daryn on her hip since they landed, Millian’s hand tangled in her shirt bottom as he trailed behind. 

With a sigh, Ashlae ran a hand over her tired eyes. Nicolette must have bailed on shopping last minute for a nap, would probably get up in about an hour and join the others. 

“What about Sparrow and Merlin?” Evryn hadn’t been in the report, but she could assume Arik had already left to prowl for tonight’s main course of tall-slim-and-blonde. Gods she hoped he didn’t get another screamer, she hated those. 

Mattea Cross frowned as she caught sight of herself in the reflection of a shop window, tilting her head slightly. The past few hours she’d spent with Nicolette and Luna, they’d gotten their hair done at a salon in one of the bottom levels of the hotel; they’d encouraged her to cut off nearly half her hair. She’d agreed, simply because tying it back was becoming too tedious these days due to it’s length. Now it sat at the middle of her back, hovering around her cheeks in the front. The girls had taken her along with them as they shopped, determined to get all new wardrobes for themselves and their partners.

And they’d made her change at the first store they found with clothing tasteful enough for the queens delights. They’d tossed her black leather trews and t-shirt into the bin, and now she wore a white swatch of cloth that came down to just above her navel and dipped low on her bust, crossing in the back to be tied by the raven angel. She’d been given shorts as well, a light colored denim that frayed and ended just below her bottom. The sneakers and sunglasses were small comforts, and she was beginning to adjust to the clothing.

As they walked down the sidewalk, Nicolette and Luna’s arms linked with Mattea trailing behind, she began to notice the stares of men. Before, they’d found somewhere else to put their gaze when she’d been clad in fighting leathers. But now their eyes were hungry for the golden brown of her skin, roaming over her body like an unexplored territory they wished to visit to their heart’s content.

Mattea kept her face impassive behind the tinted glasses, her lips never straying from their designated flat line. Even as her mind wandered to the possibility, she never gave any of the mortals a real chance- she was a kingdom in her own right that they would never gain citizenship of, never touch or kiss or warm.

Lost in the land of her thoughts, she didn’t notice she’d been spoken to until Nicolette glanced over her shoulder for an answer. The blonde raised her brows in a silent request for the queen to repeat herself.

“Do you like the new clothes you picked out?” Hope flickered in the kind regent’s gaze, curiosity coloring the grey hues. They had all agreed to attend a dinner reservation together tonight, and while that had been what prompted the three to go hunting for appropriate apparel, it had soon turned into a wardrobe excursion.

She nodded her answer, casting her mind back to the many pieces of clothes the two lunatics ahead of her had pressured her to buy. Maniacs with black cards, she deemed them.

Scrunching her nose, Nicolette turned to the Queen of the Hell Realms. “I can’t wait to see Evryn’s face tonight when she comes out in that dress.” A squeal that Mattea was certain didn’t befit a queen exploded from the raven’s lips. “That should fix whatever’s between the two of you.”

As if her mate’s adulterous antics could be expunged by the correctly colored fabric hanging in one of these vapid shops- only if she searched hard enough. As if she’d find a shawl that could cover that scene from her memory- if only she found it in beige instead of midnight blue. Would a strappy camisole succeed in covering her nausea every time she relived the horror of that night, or would an off-the-shoulder halter top do? Heels or sandals; infidelity or ignorance.

Behind the glasses, Mattea’s green hues found a shop on the other side of the street, distracting herself with the colors she could see through the large windows.

[theas-bedtime-stories]

Drunken Mistakes

Summary: Dean gets mad at reader one night when he has had too much to drink

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 6,044 (this one ran away from me a little)

Warnings: mentions of cheating, physical fight, implication of smut? or soft smut (idk what to call it)

A/N: Okay so this is my entry for ‘Michelle’s 2K follower challange’. Congrats @luci-in-trenchcoats​ on 2k and I hope you like this. Quote I got “Your problem is that nobody hates you more than you do”. I hope you guys like this, first time writing in this ‘x reader’ style so feedback would be much loved

It had been an exhausting hunt, the djinn you and the boys had been hunting down had managed to get a hold of Dean. He had refused to tell you what his dream had been off, saying it was ‘nothing special’ and that he didn’t really remember it. You knew he had lied though; on your drive back to the bar opposite your motel the boys had started talking about the hunt as soon as they thought you had fallen asleep on the back seat of Baby. You had heard snippets of their conversation through hushed whispers, they spoke of how Dean had been living in a white picket fence neighbourhood, with the two of you caring for your first child, Bobby, whilst Sammy was living across the road with Jess. It sounded like a beautiful world, where the family business was ‘shaving people, styling things’; best of all there were nothing going bump in the night which meant that Mary was still alive and had moved to Texas with John.

Sammy had made the decision to drop you off at the motel without waking you so that you could sleep whilst the boys went to the bar. It was then that you chose to announce your mental presence, yawning, unnecessarily loudly, as you over stretched your arms and sat up; there was no way you were missing out on the celebratory beer, besides, this was your hometown and you would be damned if you didn’t make the most of the night here…

The gentle roar of the impala faded out as Dean pulled into the only free space around. As you get out of the car you lean against the door for a second, taking in the environment. Directly in front of you is an old bar in which you spent many of your weekends with your closest friends. The wooden door still had a splintered hole which was just to the right of the doors centre; an accessory which was a result of Rob eagerly showing off his dad’s new shotgun before he accidentally fired it – almost killing the owner’s cat. The fluorescent lettering was flickering, what should have spelt “The Drunken Angel” now read “Th D unk   An el”, not quite the same thing but it made you and the boys laugh. There was silver tape haphazardly strewn where a window should have been, allowing the smell of pie and beer to float out into the surrounding air, teasing those who stood outside; tempting them to come in. The inharmonious racket that was breaking out from within the four walls told of the boisterous individuals inside. From the corner of your eye you can see that Sam and Dean have overly-enthusiastic smiles plastered across their faces, the excitement poorly restrained. Pushing yourself off of Dean’s pride and joy you begin to make your way into the all-too-familiar stench of alcohol with the boys hot on your tail.

It isn’t long before Dean has drunk enough shots for the entirety of the Dallas Cowboys team. Calling to the bartender to put on some tunes, he begins dancing before the music has even started, swinging his arms back and forth before him as he shimmies his chest whilst simultaneously rocking his hips from side to side. Looking over to you then Sammy for encouragement with a proud grin, once he realises that you and Sam are laughing at him rather than with him he pretends to throw a fishing line at you, reeling it in in hope you will do the oh so cheesy fish move. It is at that exact moment that the music starts up, as though Rick the bartender felt sorry for you. Gasping at the realisation that it is one of your favourite songs, Dean grabs your wrist and pulls you against him on the dance floor. Leaning on you to help hold him upright he places your hands around his neck before gently resting the flat of his palm on your lower back. Slowly you sway together, not quite in time to the music but you are more focused on the warmth radiating from Dean. You can feel his hands begin to slowly slide down your body, the rest of him follows as he loses all coordination and control of his limbs. Straightening your arms into a rigid position below each armpit you look to Sam for support, Sam only laughs before finally giving in and offering up his assistance.

“Why don’t I look after Dean in the booth over there” he says, gesturing with his head to the nearest, vacant, booth. “Go relax, have fun!”

Raising an eyebrow in response, you watch on, bemused as Sam heaves his lump of a brother into the seat; or at least tries to. You reach out to help but Sam just grunts an “I’ve got this!” before attempting to bat your hand away with his left hand. An action which causes Dean to fall a little closer to the ground, Sam catching him just before he could actually make contact. Shrugging your shoulders you look around the room, there wasn’t really much to see or do, you don’t recognise many of the men in the establishment and those that you do recognise you aim to avoid at all costs. Therefore you decide the best thing to do is to just dance in the middle of the area on your own; your natural rhythm kicks in as your hips glide in a figure of eight to the velvety tones of Jason Manns’ vocal chords smoothly drifting over the notes. You allow the words of ‘Sittin on the Dock of the Bay’ to take over, your fingertips running over the tops of your thighs and your hips, losing yourself to the music you don’t notice how the eyes of every man in the bar are on you, everyone’s except Sammy’s who’s back is turned to you as he attempts to force his brother to drink something other than beer. His mission fails miserably as Dean’s green eyes are glued to you with a look of pure adoration, as the song begins to draw to a close you saunter over to your hammered boyfriend and his slightly less hammered brother. Just as you are about to kiss the smirk off of his face you hear the ceasing of footsteps behind you followed by a “Y/N?” and you can feel Dean’s shoulders tense under your fingers at the newcomer.

Turning to face the voice’s owner, ready to pounce, you are stunned into silence at the vision before you. A full grown man, which was a mere shadow of his former self, loomed above you. His sweet brown eyes were accentuated by crow’s feet, he had stubble around full lips, his dimple below the mole on his left cheek gave him an even deeper beauty, the beaming face was framed by wisps of thick black hair which looked like he had a taken a page right out of Sam’s book. A soft hint of an Australian drawl could be heard as he once again addressed you “I knew it was you! I would recognise that dancing anywhere!” You throw your arms around his neck with enough force to cause him to rock back on his heels.

“My god how long has it been?”

“Feels like a lifetime! But in reality about 9 years”

“Gosh I have missed you Mattie” You turn to Dean to introduce him, you spot the look of utter confusion making up his physiognomy. You decide he is far too gone for you to even attempt to fill him in on your history with Mattie.

“Sammy you mind babysitting this one?” You ask as you jab your thumb in Dean’s general direction

“Nah, couldn’t think of anything better” Mocking disgust at his sarcasm you turn to Mattie who is doubled over; one arm behind his back and the other folded across his stomach

“May I have this dance malady?” He says, extending his hand for you to take.

“Why of course kind sire” And with that he lifts you into the air, placing you down in the middle of the floor. The two of you begin to jive as ‘Baby Like to Rock It” by The Tractors draws to an end, giggling at your poor timing the two of you fall into an embrace as “When a Man Loves a Woman” begins to play. His chin lightly rests on the top of your head as you lean into his lean body, the last time the two of you danced like this was ten years ago at your 18th birthday party. It had been about eleven in the evening, the majority of your friends were passed out on the couch or silently dancing together to this very track, you had felt just as safe in his arms then as you did in this moment. It was the thought of this safety that led you to act without thinking of the consequences; it was then that you kissed your best friend on the cheek.

You hear a loud thump followed by a “Fuck. DEAN!” The next thing you know Mattie is throwing you to the floor, landing besides a dishevelled Sammy, and Dean has got his hands around Matt’s throat. You can tell that Dean has sobered up entirely, as steady on his feet as he is on a hunt, he has got Mattie’s feet desperately trying to find solid ground whilst his fingers scratch at Dean’s hands. Never before have you frozen in the midst of a fight but this was different. This time, the man that you love isn’t attacking a monster or a killer, he is attacking your best friend and you had never seen such pure desire for destruction of something that posed no threat. In all honesty it scared you a little, and it would have turned you on were it not Mattie who was at the receiving end of Dean’s incredible strength.

Matt’s hands were no longer fighting as enthusiastically as they had been, you could see he was turning a very pale, very unhealthy, colour. Luckily Dean saw this too, so decided to relieve the pressure a little, slamming his target against the floor of the bar, kneeling over Matt’s weak body. Turning to look to Sam for assistance you could see he was already standing, assessing the best way to stop Dean, he decided just to go for it and wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist, pulling with all his strength. Though Sammy was taller, Dean was the more stubborn, elbowing his younger brother in the face before continuing to pummel his fists into Matt’s torso; using the same patterning he had taught you. You watched on in desperation, barely aware of your own voice screaming stop, as Dean’s right hook crashed into the base of Mattie’s ribs, barely a second went by before he repeated this but on the other side. Dean repeated this, left right left right, until he grew bored, or felt that is was no longer inflicting enough pain, you breathed a sigh of relief as Dean sat up, breathing heavily with his fists hanging limp at his side, with his eyes now vacant there was a calmness to him which gave you hope that he was finally finished. Cautiously you rose to your feet, taking those few short steps over to him, tentatively you reached out, touching Dean’s shoulder lightly. Slowly he lifted his head, looking you in the eye, instead of finding comfort in your presence like he usually did, he saw something that sent him overboard; his expression twisting into one of unadulterated rage as he battered his cracked and bloodied fist into Mattie’s face.

Sensing that Dean would not be stopping anytime soon, Sam once again attempted to prize his brother of off your best friend. This time he was successful; putting an end to this sanguinary event. Dragging Dean out of the bar and into the backseat of the impala whilst Dean flailed about, fighting to break free, but Sam had a stronger grip than before. You could see the mental and physical concentration that the task was requiring, as Sam’s brows were deeply furrowed and his lips were curled up into a snare. You knew you should go give Sammy a hand but there was no way you were abandoning Mattie when he was in this state. Gently elevating Matt’s head, you tuck your knees under him so that he won’t choke on any blood in his throat and really for your own comfort as much as his. You gently run your fingers through his hair, whispering “sorry” over again in between promises of “it will be okay” and reassurance that you won’t leave his side no matter what.

You’re on your hundredth repetition of an “I’m right here baby, you are going to be okay” when Sam came running back in asking if there was anything he could do to help. You knew he was only trying to help but you couldn’t have Dean anywhere near you right now, sobbing you beg him to “just get him out of here”, thinking you meant Matt, he goes to scoop him into his arms but you point in the general vicinity of the car. “Him! Get that Demon away from me!” you scream, your strength collapsing as you whisper go. With that Sam nods, understanding that it is not him you are angry with and the shouting is directed towards Dean but he is too far away so Sam is happy to step in as the punching bag. You don’t even see him leave as you hang your head in defeat, tears streaming down your face, hair tickling the already forming patches of blue and purple on Matt’s cheeks. Somewhere behind you, you can hear Rick on the phone to 911, giving them the address of the bar to pass onto the paramedics. Yes an ambulance is on its way, no it won’t be long, just hold on they are only 20 minutes away, no there is no ambulances in closer proximity, try not to move him any further, don’t let him go to sleep. Just as Rick confirms that he saw the attacker you shoot him a look, one he recognises immediately as meaning to keep that piece of information between you, therefore all he tells them is that the man responsible was a white man in jeans and a black shirt and that he is sorry he couldn’t give a more helpful description. You mouth a silent thank you, receiving a nod in response as he finishes answering the respondent’s questions.

All you can do now is wait, praying to Castiel in hope that he will heal Mattie, or keep you company at least.

You had waited at the bar until the ambulance came, insisting that you rode with him to the hospital. Holding his hand the entire way, whilst his was limp and unresponsive in your own. Sam had called you begging for you to come home, insisting that Matt would pull through and that you were no good to him or yourself whilst you were exhausted and angry. It was more for Sam’s sake than your own that you had decided to hitchhike your way home, not that you told him that was what you were doing, it was for the benefit of your best friend that you swallowed your anger as you stood outside the bunker.

As you made your way down the stairs you could see an exhausted Sam, presumably passed out, with his head in the crook of his arms laid out on the table. A mop of brown hair was the main identifiable aspect of the slumped figure before you, logically it would seem as though Sam had waited up for you, for the entire three hour drive from Nebraska, and that wasn’t including the time it took to find people who were willing to take you small sections of the journey. What you couldn’t see though was a sign of the other Winchester. Deciding not to think too much about it, about him, you decide to wake Sam so that he can move into his real bed and relax a little.

Reaching out to lightly tap him on the shoulder, you haven’t even crossed half the distance before Sam has his wrist gripped tight around your wrist. His fingernails cutting into your thin skin, a predatory growl rises in his throat it was the sort of sound that you thought would come from a lion if poked with a stick one too many times. You couldn’t quite tell but none the less you were certain that his eyes were still closed beneath the now, demonically, dishevelled locks; despite this it was as though you could feel the fire in his eyes directed towards you. Convinced that even a twitch of the toes might send him into attack, you held your breath, as you watched the heavy pattern which his chest appeared to follow whilst small bursts of air were sharply exhaled through his flared nostrils with every fall of his chest. You could feel the blood starting to rise to the top of your skin as Sam’s grip tightened, cracking your bones slightly. Despite this you remain calm, observing that his sporadic breathing had slowed a fraction, interpreting this as a chance to act your quietly whisper his name, one this doesn’t seem to worsen his state you try again but this time with the term of endearment both you and Dean use specifically, the only people who are allowed to; “Sammy?” you purr. It appears as though he recognises your voice, or the name, as his grip loosens slightly. Still afraid to move you remain in your exact positioning as you start to talk him out of his attack; “Sammy? Baby? It’s Y/N, I’m right here…” trailing off you notice his shoulders are no longer so dramatically hunched over. “It’s going to be okay, I won’t let anything happen to you.” His breathing has returned to almost normal, deeming it safe enough you slip your hand out of his grasp, re-positioning it above his head. Tenderly you begin to stroke his hair, humming promises of safety. “Shhh, don’t worry, Little Winchester is home and she’s going to make you coffee and pancakes”, as he rests his head against your stomach you continue to sooth him with hushed tones, the same way you had comforted Mattie almost a day ago.

Regaining his composure he pulled away, running his hand down your arm in gratitude, knowing that right now you could really do with someone taking care of you instead of the other way around. Smiling sadly, he informs you that he had given Dean a time out. “I locked him in his room, he is probably sulking, probably still a little drunk, I’m not too sure of the situation if I am honest…” he started explaining, but realising you really just needed a distraction he switches up the atmosphere, returning to his bubbly self instead of the serious quiet of a concerned brother. “I know exactly what you need!” Without warning he tucks when arm under the back of your and places the other against your shoulder blades, scooping you into his arms he carries you into the kitchen. Plopping you down on the counter-top he points a finger at you as he tells you to ‘stay’. Doing as you are told, you sit still, the only things moving were your legs which were swinging back and forth against the counter and your head which was following Sam around the kitchen as he flitted from one cupboard to another. Next to you a mound of ingredients was beginning to form; two glass bottles of the best Maple Syrup around, three lots of 250 ml tubs of ice cream in chocolate, honeycomb and vanilla accompanied by two silver serving spoons, a selection of chocolate bars and a bottle of red wine to top it off. Cocking an eyebrow in Sam’s direction he just shrugs “you mentioned pancakes”.

This was certainly not pancakes. This was diabetes and heaven combined.

You hadn’t expected wine mixed with ice cream to taste so sweet, the two of you were sat at the table, shovelling scoops of ice cream out of the tubs and into your mouths, before swallowing you would drop broken up bits of chocolate into the others open mouth and squirt a dollop of maple syrup on top. It was the moments like this that you loved, you and Sam had always had a good relationship, way before you and dean had. As you were placing another spoonful of honeycomb on your tongue, you noticed a mischievous gleam in the eyes of your partner in crime, running the spoon along your tongue to get the remainder of the ice cream of, you studied him. As soon as you placed the spoon back in the pot Sam had his arms around your waist and was pulling you onto his lap, he allowed you to reach for your spoon and bring the food slightly nearer before he gave you a massive bear hug; it the kind that made you melt into his body, seeking the comfort and safety that his giant form provided. You sat like that in silence for a moment, with his chin resting on your shoulder and his hair tickling your nose, you were content to just remain this way but he had other ideas. You felt the muscles in his arms tense as his arms around your waist tightened their grip to hold you in place. “Y/N…” He sounded cautious, as though he didn’t know how to proceed, you could feel his jaw shift as he chewed the inside of his cheek, searching for the right words.

Just as you thought he had decided not to say anything more, his posture changed as his back straightened, allowing him to reach his full height and tower above you. Damn this was serious. With a clearing of the throat he continued. “You really should go talk to him”

“I know, but I just can’t right now.”

He responded whilst rubbing his thumb in small circles on your waist. “I know you’re mad and upset. What he did was unacceptable…”

“Damn right it was!” You interrupted.

“BUT, if you guys don’t talk about it, it will eat you alive.” You pulled away slightly to get a better look at his face. His eyes locked onto yours, nothing but pure concern for you was in them, you got the feeling he wasn’t doing this for his brother bu1t instead for you.

Ducking your head, you whisper out a confession. Your stomach tying into knots as you finally allowed the truth to be revealed. “I’m scared Sammy.”

“I know Y/N. I know. But it will get better I promise.”

“Of him…”

To that Sam had no response, speechless with shock, he looked you over with his mouth agape. Cupping your head in his hands he pulls you against his chest, kissing the top of your hair, rubbing his free hand along your arm. Grateful that he didn’t push it any further you decide that, if you are unable to trust your best friend, with the things that were worrying you, than how the hell were you going to survive this lifestyle. Sure there was Dean but that was different. He never stood back, he was never able to just listen. You knew that this was a safe space, that Sam would never push you to tell him more or start an argument or get over-protective. He just let you do whatever you needed to too get by.

“I know Dean and I fall out a lot, over the little things, but that’s never like this. It’s over in a handful of minutes. It’s usually all words or the silent treatment. But this, this is different.” Stroking your hair to let you know he was still listening, you took it as encouragement to carry on. “He almost killed someone Sam!” “I just, I am scared he will hurt me…”

Holding you closer to his chest Sam finally said something in response, “He would never dream of hurting you Y/N. I don’t think he physically could even if he tried.”

“The only other time that I have seen him so violent was when he had the mark, and even then he was able to focus it on the bad guys.”

Pressing his lips into a firm line, you can practically hear the gears churning away in Sam’s head; an audible ding sounding as they settle into place. “He won’t hurt you, I promise he won’t. If you go talk to him I will be right outside waiting to come a distressed damsel. You can use our code word if anything goes wrong. How does that sound?”

“Logical.” You laugh before adding to your response. “I think you’re right. I should go talk to him…”

Sam nodded encouragingly as you paused with one hand wrapped around the door knob, the other ready to turn the key to unlock the door. With a deep breath you opened the door. You were greeted by sight of a very angry, very tense, 6 foot 1 monster who was pacing in the corner of the room. Clearing your throat, you take a step forward, pausing as the man turned around, catching sight of you. You could see his fists forming a ball as his eyes searched yours for a moment. Within a split second he was slamming the door, too pissed off with you to see Sam stood to the left of the doorframe, his voice was hoarse as though it had been unused for the past handful of days. Though gruff there was no weakness behind the deep rumble which you had fallen in love with. “How the hell could you do this to me Y/N!?” As soon as you opened your mouth to respond, he waved dismissively, deciding he wasn’t done just yet, his voice was at full volume in a mixture of desperation and anger. “How could you have the audacity to come in here as though you did nothing wrong?”

Refusing to give in to the bait, you force yourself to remain calm. “Dean. What did I do?”

“You know” he growled, rocking on to the balls of his feet before taking a step back, his index finger jabs in your direction as he scoffs; repeating himself.

“I don’t. If I did I wouldn’t have asked”

“You cheated” He laughs, throwing his hands up in mock-disbelief “Right in front of me!”

He stares at you, waiting for an excuse, but it takes you a moment to process the accusation. “I did no such thing Dean… and you know it”

Once again Dean resorted to elevating his voice in order to get his point across, a flush of red was creeping up his neck, tinging the base of his earlobes. “You’re a lying whore who cares about no one but themselves” he spat, stalking around the bed to get closer to you. His words hurt and he knew it so you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break.

“Dean you -”

“I what Y/N? Don’t try and twist this like you always do” he snarled.

It was below you, you knew that, but you had had enough of this bullshit and you just wanted to skip the shouting, skip the cutting words and hateful looks, you just wanted to fast forward to the inevitable makeup. Rising, well sinking, to his level you began to shout back “THE HELL ARE YOU ON ABOUT DEAN?! He is my friend!”

“Friends isn’t exactly the right word…” he scoffed “I know you feel trapped here. And I know you hate me! All you had to do was tell me, you didn’t have to go make out with some stranger at a bar!” His breath was audibly laboured, laced with emotion, no longer pure anger, instead you could feel his heart breaking as he retreated to his core emotion of self-hatred.

Scared of him returning to the bad place you know he always does in these situations you try to calm yourself, breathing deeply to balance out his shallow puffs. Your voice was still shaky as you reached out to him, your fingers stopping short of his jaw as he flinched away from your touch. Letting your arm fall, heavy, against your side before muttering his name. He continued to shout over you, no longer forming coherent sentences, instead just trying to express his pain. Repeating his name, once, twice, on the third time he stops for a split second, looking at you intensely before continuing his rant. Clearly you were getting nowhere and the only way to get through to him is to play him at his own game.

Raising your voice to match the ferocity of his, you let loose “I HAVE KNOWN MATTIE SINCE HIGH SCHOOL DEAN! ALL HE HAS EVER BEEN TO ME IS MY BEST FRIEND! AND YOU ALMOST KILLED HIM. So tell me that I have no right to be here, no right to be angry, because lord knows I have more right than you do.

“You hate me! I know you do. But you didn’t need to be so cruel Y/N”

You may not have used the code word that Sam had assigned you, but somehow he knew that things were the opposite of okay, you caught a flash of brown hair out the corner of your eye as Sam popped his head round the door frame. “Gu-” he hasn’t even finished the first word of his sentence before you and Dean shout “not now Sammy!” in unison. The comforting smile that had revealed the younger Winchester’s dimple quickly fell away, a deep sadness taking its place in his viridescent eyes. Defeated he turns away, his head bowed as he walks back to what you presume to be the library.

Ignorantly you look at Dean for guidance, searching his face for some sign of whether or not you should leave Sam to have some space or not. Unsurprisingly, there is no help being offered, instead, Dean is rubbing his jawline, sighing he gestures with his right hand towards the now empty hallway. “Now look what you’ve done Y/N”. His hand falls back against his side, in response you just stare at him, mouth agape as your head shakes in disbelief. Granted you weren’t innocent, but you weren’t holey responsible either.

Spinning on your heel you follow in Sam’s footsteps, determined to go apologise for your behaviour, stopping in the entrance with one hand on the door frame, you hang your head before looking over your shoulder towards the man you loved. “Your problem is that nobody hates you more than you do. It’s that self-hatred that prevents you from letting anyone love you”. With that you carry on down the hall, past the dungeon in the direction of the library. No longer full of anger your brain is now running over what happened with Sam and what happened to Mattie. You are in the middle of making a mental note to drive back to the hospital after you have checked on Sammy when you feel a strong grip on your wrist.

Holding your breath you hope to Chuck that it is just Cas, finally making an appearance, the man behind the interruption spins you round to face him, doing so with such force that you almost slam into his chest. Looking up, expecting to find the comfort of bright blue eyes and furrowed brows, your heart drops into your stomach as you are met instead with intoxicating Green eyes. “My brother was right Y/N. We need to talk this through”. Disgusted but exhausted all you can muster in response is “What is there to talk about Dean? I’m tired of fighting and I just want to go look after my friends.” With that you pull your wrist free, storming off to your room, Sam could wait – you were no good to him like this. You text him an apology instead, accompanied by the promise of a real one when you have calmed down.

Your phone vibrates with a response a second after you have jumped onto the bed. “It’s okay, I understand it was just bad timing. I hope you are okay x” Smiling to yourself at the selflessness of his words, you barely notice Dean now standing in the doorway, looking at you with a combination of adoration and pain. Catching sight of his bowed legs you adjust to increase your sense of power; Straightened back, arms crossed, chin tilted towards the sky. Refusing to speak your gaze holds his, unless an apology was going to be the next that thing out of those plumps lips, you weren’t interested in hearing it. It was the sight of his tongue rolling over his bottom lip which cracked your façade, not enough to be noticeable but you could certainly feel yourself growing angry, not only at your boyfriend but also at yourself. The next thing you know you are stood between the door and the bed, you could hear your voice telling Dean to leave, could feel your lips moving without your instruction. In response Dean slams the door, his brows furrowed as he continues to stare you down. “You’re meant to be on the other side of the door” you snap in frustration.

“You just can’t help yourself can you Y/N?” Striding towards you with some surely dark intention, “Can’t keep your eyes of other men.” You felt your back come into contact with something hard, running the palms of your hands against the object, the heaving of your chest became less rapid, deeper almost, as you realised you were pressed up against the wall. “You look at them with that same hungry gaze you used to look at me with.”

Unwilling to lose this battle of will, you elect to stare him down with your chest heaving in anticipation as the adrenaline pumps through your veins. Beneath furrowed brows were green eyes, dark with anger, or perhaps it was lust. Your eyes wander to his lips just as his tongue darted out, flicking over his bottom lip. Neither of you wanted to be the one to break the silence but Dean finally gave in to his anger snapping at you; “You know what Y/N?”

“WHAT?”

“I can’t fucking stand you” and with that his calloused hands were grabbing your face as his lips carelessly crashed against yours. You could feel the hunger emanating off him as your fingers instinctively wove their way into his hair, pressing your lips against him even harder than they already were. You roll your hips against his thigh which was between your legs, the blatancy of your craving for contact drew a moan from his throat. With that Dean was pulling his hands away, you groaned at his sudden absence, he repositioned them on your hips before parting your lips with is tongue. His hands made quick work of your jeans, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull your shirt over your head, dipping his head to kiss along your jaw and collarbone as he stripped you of your bra.

Running your fingers down from the back of his head you tug his flannel shirt of his shoulders; the lean muscles of his back were soft beneath your touch as you dug your nails into his exposed torso. Growing impatient he works on his own belt, throwing it to the side haphazardly, Dean never once breaks contact with you. Once he was fully exposed, his body still pressed against yours, you felt his hands running down the back of your thighs. Hearing his unspoken words you jump, wrapping your legs around his waist as he supports your lower back. It isn’t long before he is throwing you on your bed, growling as he leans over you with his hips slotted between your legs.

Perhaps arguing wasn’t the worst thing the two of you could do.

A/N: Thank you to @the-petite-lion​ and @rosey-persephone for keeping me encouraged and helping me workout what the hell I was doing with this <3