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sasheemo · 1 day ago

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When We Collide

Chapter 14

Chapter Summary: You wake to Agatha's unsettling yet impossibly grounding presence, unspoken questions threatening to unravel a fragile moment. And just like that, walls begin to crack.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N (very long, sorryyy): I still can’t believe it, but here we are. After exactly one month since the last chapter was published, I’m officially back! I can’t promise the creative block I’ve been struggling with for When We Collide is completely gone, but I’m really trying, and I’m so happy to continue this story.

Before you dive in, I just want to take a moment to make a small dedication:

Over the past week, I’ve received an overwhelming amount of love and support that I never expected. Moots, strangers, and even anonymous readers stepped forward in the comments of my update posts on Tumblr or slid into my DMs to show their appreciation and encouragement. You know who you are. It’s because of all of you that, in just over 24 hours, I managed to write an entire chapter after being stuck for a whole month. You gave me an incredible boost of energy and motivation. So, this chapter is for you. To my moots, followers, and each dedicated reader of When We Collide. To everyone who messaged me privately or left a comment on a post or a fic. To those who, even without reaching out directly, have always supported me with their thoughts and good vibes, waiting patiently for an update and never abandoning this story. What you’ve done, and continue to do, for me is amazing. You’ve filled me with so much love and support, and I truly hope this chapter (and the ones to come—yes, they’re coming, hehe) can serve as a proper thank-you.

It’s true that writing should primarily be for yourself, but when you receive this kind of support and encouragement, it becomes something truly special to write for others too.

Let me know what you think of the chapter, and thank you from the bottom of my heart! 💜

PS: Spoiler—I literally felt my heart break while writing a certain piece of dialogue. Had to pause, pick up the pieces, and keep going. Sorry y’all, I couldn’t resist 💔

Chapter Index

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You stir awake to the faint glow of the early afternoon, the light filtering softly through the edges of the curtains. For a brief, suspended moment, your mind lingers in the haze of sleep, the kind where nothing feels quite real, and you’re not entirely sure where you are. Then the weight registers.

The warm, undeniable weight of someone pressed against you.

Your breath catches, your body locking in place as you become acutely, painfully aware of Agatha’s head resting on your shoulder.

Her dark hair brushes against your neck, faintly ticklish, while her arm lies draped across your waist.

You don’t dare move. Not even a twitch.

Every nerve in your body stands at attention, screaming for you to do something. But you lie there, frozen, your heart hammering so loudly you’re sure it’ll wake her. The thought of turning your head to look at her fills you with a mixture of terror and curiosity, and you’re too paralyzed to face either.

You try—really try—to focus on the practicalities. How did this even happen? You’d climbed into bed hours ago, stiff as a board, determined to keep your distance. You’d stayed on your side, curled up awkwardly, staring at the wall like it held the answers to every question you were too afraid to ask.

But then sleep had come. Or at least something like it—a restless tangle of half-dreams and unconscious movements, shifting and turning under the weight of the night’s tension.

At some point, the gap between you must have closed. At some point, her arm must have found its way across you.

A thousand excuses rush through your mind, each more fragile than the last, as if rationalizing the moment could make the closeness disappear. But they all crumble, leaving behind one undeniable truth: you don’t want to move. Not really.

You tell yourself it’s fear. Fear of waking her. Fear of the look on her face if she realized the position you’re in. Confusion? Annoyance? Disgust? The thought twists your stomach into painful knots. But beneath the fear, another emotion lingers, quieter and far more dangerous.

It feels… good.

You hate how much you notice it, how your senses seem to betray you with every passing second. The softness of her hair brushing your neck, the heat of her body radiating against your side, the faint pressure of her arm resting on you—it all feels far too natural, far too easy, like some cruel joke the universe decided to play.

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to move, to shift, to put some distance between you. But your body doesn’t listen. You’re too hyper-aware of every tiny detail, of how close she is, of how safe she feels.

A shaky exhale escapes you, your chest rising just enough to disturb the delicate stillness between you. Agatha stirs slightly in her sleep, a soft sound escaping her lips as her arm tightens instinctively around you.

Your heart practically leaps into your throat.

You swallow hard, trying to convince yourself that this is normal. That there’s nothing strange or inappropriate about lying here like this. That it doesn’t mean anything. That it’s just an accident, a coincidence. That’s all.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. Except it’s not.

Because no matter how much you want to believe that this is accidental, that she’s completely unaware, a small, traitorous part of you wonders what it would mean if she wasn’t.

You try to focus on the ceiling, on the faint creak of the house settling around you, on anything other than her. But it’s impossible. Because no matter how still you stay, no matter how hard you try to quiet your thoughts, Agatha’s presence fills every corner of the room—and every corner of you.

Your breath hitches as you finally, finally let yourself turn your head. It’s tentative at first, a small, hesitant shift of movement.

Your chin almost brushes her forehead, and the nearness of her—so close you could count the faint freckles scattered across her skin—leaves you utterly undone.

For a moment, you can’t think, can’t breathe. The sight of her like this, her face so close to yours, is enough to send your thoughts spiraling.

Your gaze moves carefully, tracing her features as if each one might dissolve into smoke if you looked too quickly.

Sharp and soft. The words loop in your mind like a mantra, and you can’t stop staring. The sharp lines of her jaw and cheekbones, the delicate curve of her lips—they blend danger and allure in a way that leaves you off-balance, like she was never meant to be anything less than both.

Your let your thoughts drift, unbidden, to what you know about her. And, perhaps more troubling, to what you don’t.

You’ve spent all your life in the same coven, shared the same spaces, breathed the same air, yet she’s always been distant. A figure just out of reach, admired and feared in equal measure by most.

You sift through your memories, trying to piece together fragments, to make sense of the person sprawled across you now.

Everyone has been speaking of Agatha’s power in hushed tones since you were children—the raw, unpredictable force of her magic. How it brims with potential but defies control. Even the older witches have always been wary of her, watching her like a storm poised on the horizon.

And then there’s the story. The one no one speaks of outright but that lingers in fragments, carried around by rumors and half-truths.

It was just over a couple of years ago. One of the daughters of your mother’s friends—a girl you barely knew, though her name still echoes through the village homes and halls—was found dead in the woods. Cold, lifeless. Drained.

The whispers said it was Agatha.

They claimed she had taken the girl’s power, siphoned it like a flame devouring a candlewick. That she left her there, alone in the woods, to die.

But that girl wasn’t just anyone. She was Agatha’s best friend.

The rumors painted it as a calculated act of power, a way to send a message and solidify her place as the rightful heir to the coven’s legacy. They said her magic demanded sacrifice, and she hadn’t hesitated to give one.

But that version of the story never sat right with you.

Even more so now, with Agatha asleep beside you, her head resting on your shoulder, her breathing slow and even in sleep. The idea of this Agatha—the Agatha who clings to you in her slumber—being the monster the rumors describe feels impossible to reconcile.

You’ve always wondered if there was more to the story. If the truth had been buried beneath layers of fear, jealousy, and Evanora’s carefully orchestrated manipulations.

Because if there’s one thing you know about Evanora Harkness, it’s that she’d burn the truth to ashes to protect her image.

The slow rise and fall of your chest brushes faintly against Agatha’s arm, jolting you back to the present. You exhale shakily, your gaze locking once again on her face.

She looks so… harmless. The thought slips into your mind unbidden, and you can’t stop yourself from clinging to it. Here, now, in your bed, tangled against you, she does look harmless. Innocent, even.

And yet… the stories remain. The danger, the sharpness, the fury—it’s still there, lurking just beneath her momentary serene exterior.

You should move. You really should. Break the moment, pull away, regain the distance you’re supposed to have. But you don’t. You can’t. Because for all the danger and mystery that surrounds Agatha Harkness, there’s something else, too.

Something that keeps you rooted in place, your gaze drinking her in, feeling her presence in every breath you take.

The stillness is interrupted by a faint shift. Agatha stirs against you, her body shifting slightly as her fingers twitch where her hand rests near your waist. Her breathing changes, no longer the even, steady rhythm of sleep but something shallower, more conscious.

You freeze, your own breath caught in your chest. Her head lifts just a fraction before settling again, her hair brushing against your neck in a way that sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. For one agonizing moment, you wonder if she’ll pull away.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, Agatha lets out a soft exhale, her lashes fluttering as her eyes blink open, slow and heavy with sleep. There’s a beat—a single, suspended second where her gaze adjusts, flitting from the faint light of the room to you.

Her arm remains draped across your waist, though her fingers flex slightly, testing their place. Her lips twitch, just barely, into something resembling a smirk.

“Is this how you treat all your guests, or am I just special?” she murmurs, her voice husky and rough from sleep, the teasing lilt sharp enough to make your stomach flip.

The words pull you from your haze of panic into full-blown mortification, heat rising to your face as you open your mouth, then close it, scrambling for a response.

“You—you asked me to stay!” you stammer, your voice breaking as you shift just a little, glaring at her. “Don’t twist this into—”

Agatha cuts you off with an expression so faux-innocent you want to scream, her tone light but laced with mockery.

“Did I?” she muses, her brow quirking as though she’s genuinely pondering it. “Hmm. Doesn’t sound like me.”

Your jaw drops.

Your heart hasn’t stopped pounding since she stirred, and her smirk only makes it worse. The audacity, the smugness. She’s so calm, like waking up tangled together is just another morning for her.

For you? It’s a waking nightmare—or at least, that’s the excuse you cling to as you try to suppress the heat that is completely taking hold of your whole body. Your fists clench at your sides, and your frustration boils over.

“You did! You said—” you stop yourself, huffing in exasperation as her smirk turns into a full-blown grin. “Ugh, you’re impossible.”

“And you’re far too fun to annoy.” she counters shifting slightly, her arm sliding away from your waist as she props herself up on one elbow.

You bite back another retort, your face burning as you turn your head to look anywhere but at her. She’s infuriating. Smug and sharp-tongued and—close. Too close.

The silence stretches for a beat, and you take a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down.

It doesn’t help that she’s still watching you, her gaze a quiet weight against your skin. You can feel it without looking—how her smirk lingers, how her eyes flicker between amusement and something unreadable.

She shifts again, finally breaking the silence.

“Well,” she says softly, her voice still carrying that teasing lilt, “if this is how you handle all your guests, I can’t imagine they stay very long.”

Your breath hitches, and you glance at her despite yourself, catching the faintest flicker of something beneath her grin. She’s teasing, sure—but there’s an edge to it, a quiet discomfort she’s trying to mask.

You huff again, crossing your arms and refusing to let her get the last word. “Maybe they don’t. But you did ask me to stay, so if you have complaints, take it up with yourself.”

Her grin softens slightly, but she doesn’t respond. Instead, she leans back a little, her hand brushing against the blanket as she rests her weight on her palm. Her gaze flickers briefly to the window, her expression almost thoughtful.

You watch her for a moment, your own irritation ebbing away as curiosity takes its place. She’s still infuriating, still impossible—but there’s something else, too. Something quieter.

You should let it go. The tension, the moment—it’s already too much and you both literally just woke up. But the question lodges itself in your throat, unspoken words buzzing like a swarm. You don’t even mean to say it. It just… slips out. “What really happened that day?”

Agatha’s head tilts slightly, her eyes cutting back to yours in a sharp, measured motion.

“What?” she asks, her tone casual, but there’s a sudden wariness in her gaze, the edge of a blade being drawn.

You hesitate, regretting the words almost immediately, but it’s too late now.

“The girl.” you clarify, your voice quieter than you intended. “The one they say you… killed.”

The room seems to still, the air shifting as the words settle between you.

Agatha doesn’t move, her expression unreadable, but the flicker of something raw flashes behind her eyes—a shadow that vanishes almost as quickly as it appears.

Her lips curve into a smirk that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Really?” she drawls, leaning back slightly, the picture of feigned nonchalance. “That’s what you want to talk about? Here? Now?”

Your stomach twists at the sharpness of her tone, but you don’t look away.

“I just…” You pause, choosing your words carefully. “I just want to know the truth.”

Agatha lets out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking her head as she looks away again.

“The truth…” she mutters, her voice low, almost mocking. “You’re the first person to actually ask me for it, you know?”

The words hit you like a slap, leaving you momentarily speechless.

“Wait.” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “No one’s ever—?”

“No.” Agatha cuts in sharply, her tone laced with dry amusement that barely conceals the bitterness beneath.“Why would they? They already think they know. They don’t need my version.”

She scoffs, her lips curling into a sardonic smirk.

Your chest tightens painfully at the words, the weight of what she’s said settling over you like a heavy fog. If no one’s ever asked for her version of the story, if no one’s cared enough to hear the truth… then everything you’ve heard—the whispers, the rumors, the stories—might not be true. Or at least, not entirely.

Agatha’s gaze flickers back to you, piercing and unreadable, as if she can sense where your thoughts are heading.

“I know what they say.” she continues, her voice quieter now, colder. “Some of it’s lies, some of it’s not.”

Your breath catches, her words hanging between you like a challenge, daring you to press further. And you do.

“But if not all of it’s true…” you ask, your voice trembling slightly, “… then why?”

You hesitate, the question twisting in your chest before it finally escapes. “Why do you let them believe those things about you, hmm?”

That stops her cold.

Her gaze locks on you, her expression sharp and unyielding, but there’s something flickering beneath the surface—something fragile and dangerous and far too human.

For a moment, you swear you see something shatter behind the mask she wears so flawlessly. And when she finally speaks, her whispered answer tears through the silence like thunder.

“Because the truth is too awful.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at her. The rawness in her voice, the vulnerability she so desperately tries to hide, steals the breath from your lungs.

But you don’t back down. Not now.

“Maybe.” you say quietly, your voice softening but steady. “But I don’t think it’s worse than the lies, than the stories people tell.”

Her head tilts slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studies you. The tension in her shoulders doesn’t ease, but there’s something in her gaze—a flicker of hesitation, of consideration.

“You’re persistent.” she mutters, the edge returning to her voice, though it’s quieter now.

“And you’re exhausting.” you reply, trying to keep your tone casual despite the knot in your chest tightening with every passing second. “But since it looks like we’re stuck together—and you’re literally in my bed—you might as well tell me.”

You know the truth, though: you’re not really stuck together. Agatha could leave anytime she wanted—she’s clever, resourceful, and probably already thought of four different ways to slip out unnoticed, if she needed or wanted to.

But you also suspect that getting Agatha Harkness to open up requires more than simple patience. She needs to feel cornered—not with malice, but with intent. She has to know that someone is paying attention, that someone cares enough to ask, and that walking away won’t make the questions disappear. So you hold her gaze, refusing to let the moment slip away.

Agatha exhales sharply, the sound laced with frustration as she rubs a hand over her face. For a long, agonizing moment, you think she might retreat entirely. But then her hand falls, and she looks at you again.

And just like that, the walls begin to crack.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x female reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha x y/n #agatha harkness fanfic #agatha all along fanfic #aaa fanfic #when we collide

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dianawinchester03 · 2 days ago

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Season 3, Episode 3 - Bad Day At Black Road (Part Two)

Series Masterlist

Authors Note: This is part two! Make sure to read part one to understand. Enjoy!

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Later that day, they decided to head back to Grossman and Wayne’s place to find some sort of answers after hearing that Wayne suddenly died of a freak accident. Dean pushed the door open, the trio stalking in slowly as Grossman groaned. He was teary eyed, holding up a picture and a beer. “Oh, man. What do you want?”

“What about your friend, that’s bad luck” Dean answered, drawing his gun. “Fuck off” Grossman narrowed his eyes at them, “We know someone hired you to steal the rabbits foot. A woman” Y/N stated. “Oh yeah? Well how do you know that?” Grossman tilted his head, almost sassing her. “Because she just stole it back from us,” Dean told him.

Grossman erupted in a fit of laughter, cackling at the three. They all glared at him, “Listen man, this is ser- OH!” Sam stepped forward, ultimately tripping on the wire to the radio. He tried to catch it but ended up falling face first again, attempting to grip the lamp for support but thanks to his baby gorilla weight, they all went tumbling down.

Grossman was cracking up, his eyes almost swelling with tears as Dean and Y/N shared a look that said, ‘Oh my god’ Y/N breathed heavily through her nose, “Sam, you okay?” Dean asked without looking behind him. “Yeah, I’m good.” Sam sat up groaning and panting, pushing the radio and the lamp off of himself before gripping the couch.

“I want you to tell us her name,” Dean demanded as he stepped towards Grossman. “Fuck you” Grossman smirked, Dean and Y/N snorted in amusement. “It wasn’t a freak accident that killed your partner” Y/N revealed, “What?” Grossman asked, confused. “It was the rabbit's foot,” Dean added firmly. Grossman chuckled, unconvinced by them. “You’re crazy, man”

“You know I’m not. You saw what happened, what it did. All the flukes, all the luck. When you lose the foot, that luck goes sour. That’s what killed your friend” Grossman’s smile faded slightly as he narrowed his eyes at them, “Right” He scoffed, unconvinced. Y/N’s eye twitched, she suddenly lost her patience in a snap, stuffing her gun in Dean’s hand. She marched over to Grossman, snatching him up by his collar.

Sam and Dean both watched with wide eyes as Y/N pinned Grossman to wall, holding him there. “Hey! What’s the matter with you, you crazy bitch!” Grossman complained, trying to wriggle out of Y/N’s grip. “No, you listen to me” She snapped, her voice was calm but firm. But Sam and Dean knew her well enough to know that she was pissed.

Using her telekinesis, she kept him pinned to the wall effortlessly. Her eyes shone white as her veins lit up aqua blue, “My brother here is next on that fucking rabbit foot’s list. And who knows how many more innocent people after that. Now if you don’t help us stop this damn thing, that puts those deaths on your bald shiny head” She growled at him, reeling him back to slam him into the wall once more.

Grossman gulped at the sight of Y/N’s eyes, he began to sweat as she kept him pinned to the wall. “Whoa, whoa, okay!” He exclaimed. Sam and Dean were gawping as they glanced between each other and Y/N. She loosened her grip on his collar, “Now I can read people. And I get it. You’re a thief and a scumbag. That’s fine. But you’re not a killer. Are you?”

Grossman averted his eyes off hers as he mumbled, “No” He shook his head. “No.” He repeated. Y/N studied him for a moment, narrowing her eyes when she realised he was telling the truth. “Good” She nodded before giving his collar a rough tug,.

Dean was equally shocked at her sudden burst of anger but also mesmerized.

They were now exiting the building, Dean was cackling his ass off while Sam looked at Y/N with concern. “Oh my God! That was amazing!” Dean exclaimed, still laughing. Y/N snickered at the sound of his laugh, “It’s not that funny” She muttered. “Not that funny?” Dean replied, raising his eyebrows, “You had the poor guy those close to shitting his pants.” Dean pointed to the door as he cackled.

“Well he pissed me off. You were taking too long” Y/N deadpanned as the three of them walked further down the parking lot. “Yeah, did you see the look on his face? He was about to piss himself” Sam added with a chuckle, he looked over at Y/N. She huffed loudly and folded her arms across her chest.

“I don’t know what got into me, okay? Something in me just…snapped.” Y/N explained. Dean placed a hand on shoulder while he wiped a tear away from his eyes that he got from laughing so hard. “If it makes you feel better, it was hot as hell watching you do that” He whispered into her ear.

Y/N’s face heated up at his words, she blushed deeply at the thought of what he said. “Shut up” She mumbled, shoving him away. “What? It’s the truth” He said through a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows. “You have no shame” She muttered, shaking her head in amusement. “None whatsoever” He agreed smugly.

Sam shook his head with an amused chuckle, rolling his eyes at his brother’s crude comment but chose to ignore it. He then eyed Y/N with the same expression of concern as before. “You okay?” He asked her. Y/N looked away from her boyfriend and met Sam’s eyes, her face dropped slightly. “I’m fine,” She assured him. But even she wasn’t sure how much of that was true.

“Are you sure?” He repeated, he knew her well enough like his brother to know when she was lying. She nodded in response as Dean’s phone rang, “Hello?” Dean answered as he pressed his phone to his ear. “Dean, great news” Bobby’s voice came through the speaker.

Meanwhile, Sam unknowingly stepped on a piece of gum.

Y/N walked towards Dean when she saw his face drop, tiptoeing to press her ear to his phone in order to hear the conversation. “Wasn’t easy but I found a heavyweight cleansing ritual that should do the trick” Bobby told them as Sam grimaced, lifting his foot up when he saw he stepped in gum. Dean and Y/N shared a panicked look.

“Bobby, that’s, uh, great. Except Sam, uh…” Dean’s words trailed when he looked behind him to see his little brother desperately trying to get the gum off of his shoe. “Sam lost the foot” Y/N chimed in, “He what?!” Bobby exclaimed. “Bobby, listen. Listen. This, uh-“ Dean glanced over to y/n, choosing his words wisely,

“This good looking girl stole it from him. I’m serious, she was in her mid 20s. And she was sharp, you know? Good enough with the con to play us” Dean explained as Sam desperately tried to get the gum off of his shoe, scraping it against a sewer grate. “Plus, she only gave the guys she hired a name, probably an alias or something. Lugosi” Y/N added.

“Luigi?” Dean muttered, “Lugosi” Sam and Y/N corrected again in unison. “Lugosi? Lugo-” Bobby thought before it dawned on him, “Oh shit, it’s probably Bela” He huffed, just that moment, Sam’s shoe slipped from his foot and ended up falling into the sewer grate with a loud splash. “Bela Lugosi? That’s cute” Y/N scoffed sarcastically.

“Bela Talbot’s her real name. Crossed paths with her once or twice” Bobby told them. “Well, she knew about the rabbit's foot. Is she a hunter?” Dean asked, “Pretty fuckin’ far from a hunter. But she knows her way around the territory” Bobby scoffed in response. “She’s been out of the country. Last I heard she was in the Middle East someplace” He informed them.

“Yeah, well I guess she’s back” Dean sighed as Sam attempted to stick his hand through the grate to retrieve his shoe but came up short, grumbling and sighing in defeat as he stood up. “Which means seriously bad luck for you” Bobby added, “Great” Dean and Y/N muttered sarcastically. “But, if it is Bela, at least I might know folks who know where to find her”

They sighed in relief, “Alright. Thanks Bobby. Again” Dean chuckled as Bobby rolled his eyes. “Just look out for your brother, ya idjits” The line then went dead and Dean flipped the phone before he and Y/N spun around to face a now frowny Sam. “What?” Dean asked. “I lost my shoe” Sam pouted extensively. Dean shot him an unimpressed look as Y/N covered her mouth, trying not to laugh her ass off.

Y/N barely stifled her laughter as Dean raised an eyebrow at his little brother. “You’re complaining about a shoe?” Dean muttered, disbelief and annoyance filled his words. “My shoe!” Sam exclaimed like an upset child while Y/N muffled her amusement behind her hand.

Sam sighed loudly, crossing his arms across his chest in a child-like manner. Y/N was now snorting, unable to hold back her laugh anymore. “Come on, you poor baby” She laughed, walking over to Sam to grip him by his wrist. “I hate you,” Sam mumbled, shooting her an irritated look. “Yeah, sure you do” She snickered, still clutching his wrist.

“Come on, I’ll buy you a new pair of those cheap, crappy shoes as soon as we find this chick” Y/N promised as she started to tug on his wrist. Dean rolled his eyes at the two before stalking over to his car.

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The Impala and Harley pulled up to a crappy motel, “Alright, Bobby, thanks. We owe ya. Another one” Dean spoke into the phone before hanging up as he parked his car, Y/N turned off her own engine besides him as she peeled off her helmet. “What’d Bobby say?” She asked, fixing her hair. “He’s got it on pretty good authority this Bela chick lives in Queens. Now it’ll take us about two hours to get there on Quinn” Dean told her, checking his watch.

“So what are we doing here then?” Sam asked, raising a brow as he scanned the cheap motel. Dean and Y/N shared a look, “You, my brother in Christ, are staying here with an old friend because we don’t want your bad luck getting us killed” Y/N simply said as she smiled widely. “An old friend?” Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Not just an old friend who wants to see you” Dean grinned as he got out of the car, “Come on” He nodded his head towards the motel while Y/N snickered beside him. Sam groaned in defeat, “Ugh” He mumbled under his breath but trudged towards the motel anyway, Y/N walked by his side, still amused by his annoyance.

She checked her phone, making sure she had the right room number the friend texted her. As they approached the door, Y/N brought her knuckles up and knocked against the door loudly. “Open up, skank. It’s us!!” The door opened after a few moments, revealing a blonde girl, “What the fuck, slut? You scared the shit out of me” Jo grumbled, putting away the knife she had in her hand.

Sam’s heart dropped upon seeing his girlfriend, rushing in to hug her. “Oh thank, Go- AH!” He yelped, only to trip on his own two feet, falling directly onto Jo. Y/N burst out laughing, practically wheezing, the moment she saw Sam’s body collapse onto her own girlfriend. Jo grunted in pain from the impact, “Well, that’s not the hello kiss I was looking forward to but it’s better than nothing” She huffed, shoving her boyfriend off of her.

Sam immediately stood up, his face flushed in embarrassment. Y/N cackled from outside, clutching her stomach in amusement. Dean stood beside her with a smirk, “Smooth as ever, Sammy” He cackled, shaking his head fondly at his little brother. “That rabbit foot ain’t no joke, huh?” Jo said tenderly as Sam helped her up, apologizing profusely.

Sam shook his head, as Jo held his face between her hands, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. Dean and Y/N made exaggerated puking sounds behind them, rolling her eyes at the couple in front of her. Dean shook his head again with a chuckle, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close to him as Jo flipped them both off.

“Okay, what are we supposed to do now?” Sam asked, “Nothing” Dean, Y/N and Jo said in unison. Jo then went over to pull a chair, placing it for Sam it sit. “I don’t want you doing anything, okay?” Dean ordered as he pushed his little brother to sit down. “Sit right here and don’t move, okay? Don’t turn on the light, don’t turn off the light.”

“If you need anything, let Jo help you, whether it’s to go to the bathroom or scratch your damn nose, kapishe?” Y/N stated firmly. Sam stared up at them before nodding firmly as he slumped in the chair, “Yeah, got it” He mumbled while Jo chuckled, rubbing his shoulders soothingly. Dean and Y/N left the room promptly as Sam mumbled to himself.

His nose twitched as he suddenly felt his nose feeling it was itchy due to her words. He begrudgingly scratched it, only to get his hand smacked away by his girlfriend. Sam groaned in annoyance, “I can itch my nose and go to the bathroom myself. I’m a grown man” He whined, slumping his head back as he glared at the ceiling in defeat.

Jo rolled her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest, “You also just tripped and fell onto me, so excuse me if I don’t think you can do anything without getting hurt” She deadpanned.

Dean and Y/N shut the door behind them, both of them letting out a breath they had been holding in. “Think he’ll be okay?” Y/N questioned, shooting him a concerned look. Dean nodded, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her against him. “Yeah, he’s got his girl with him. He’ll be alright…he’s got to be” He muttered against her neck.

Y/N sighed, nodding slightly as she placed a small kiss on Dean's lip. “Let’s go” She said. He kissed her back softly, nodding his head as he grabbed her hand and intertwined their fingers together. “Yeah, let’s go” He mumbled quietly as she led him to her bike.

She got his spare helmet from Baby’s trunk, slightly tiptoeing to strap it up onto his head. Dean chuckled lightly at the difference in their heights as he bent down for her, making it easier for her to fasten the buckle. As soon as he was strapped up, she swung her leg over, placing her own helmet on and then patted the seat behind her.

He hopped on the motorcycle, instantly snaking his arms around her waist. She started up the engine before taking off, the roar of her motorcycle filling the air.

____________________________________________

Queens, New York

Dean and Y/N made it to Queens in record setting time the next morning before sunrise, meanwhile Bela was up in her penthouse, quarreling with her benefactor over the phone. “Because you shook on 1.5” Bela argued as she descended her staircase, the sound of her heels clanking against the hardwood. “Well maybe I should just take it somewhere else” She challenged, the British twang rolling off of her tongue.

She gently petted her cat, sitting up on her counter. “Don’t threaten me, Luke. Despite your reputation, you don’t scare me” she smirked as she moved to lean against her kitchen sink, her eyes trained on her security monitor. “Well I’m glad you see it that way. I’ll see you at the airstrip in an hour.” With that, she hung up her phone.

Her cat suddenly began hissing as Dean and Y/N quickly averted from the cameras, Bela didn’t see as she was picking up the rabbit’s foot with a pair of kitchen thongs. She placed the foot down on her counter, now on alert due to her cat’s hisses. She then opened her wine fridge, slowly reaching in to retrieve her stashed gun.

Bela kept her clear and wary gaze at her front door. Slowly inching towards it, her eyes widened when her alarm started beeping saying “ERROR” and a sticky note with the words, ‘Turn Around’ was scribbled onto it by Y/N. The cocking of two guns made Bela spin around to see Dean and Y/N aiming their guns at her. She quickly retaliated, cocking her gun at them.

“You left without your tip,” Dean said smugly. This made Bela’s brow twitch with interest.

____________________________________________

Black Rock, New York

Meanwhile, Sam was growing excessively bored in his seat. Jo went to take a shower as he sat, rocking his chair back and forth. Suddenly, the air conditioner across the room started whirring and clucking, causing Sam’s head to whip in its direction. Then smoke began coming through the vents, “Oh, come on” Sam whined, pointing to it in defeat. “I didn’t- I wasn’t-….” he sighed.

The water was still on in the bathroom and Sam didn’t want to bother Jo, so he cautiously stood up from his seat. Inching towards the busted air conditioner. Suddenly, the inside of the air conditioner burst into flames.

Sam flinched slightly at the burst of flames, backing away as he frantically waved his hands around in a panic. “Oh, crap, crap” He muttered under his breath as he looked around. He quickly snatched a blanket from off the bed, rushing over to the air conditioner. He attempted to put it out with the blanket, slapping it a couple of times until it finally diminished.

As soon as the fire was finally gone, Sam threw the blanket on the floor in exhaustion. He sniffed the air, still smelling fire. Sam exclaimed in terror when he lifted his arm, now realizing his left sleeve was on fire. “AHH!!” He frantically patted at the flames in a panic as he tried to put it out.

“Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!!” He yelled in horror as he continued to smack his arm in hope for the fire to be extinguished. “ANGEL!!!” Sam called out for Jo. In the bathroom, Jo quickly turned the shower off, wrapping a towel around her body as she opened the door to see the room full of smoke with Sam in the middle of it patting at his arm.

“Sam??” She exclaimed in concern as she ran over towards him. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” Jo quickly stripped her towel off, attempting to use it to put the fire on Sam’s sleeve out. Sam tried to use the curtain to pat the fire, panicking as it continued to smolder and burn the fabric of his sleeve.

“No, DONT!” Jo exclaimed, but it was too late, Sam somehow managed to trip, taking her down with him. The naked woman and her oaf of a boyfriend were now both unconscious due to the fall. The curtain ripped down in the process, covering Jo’s body.

Kubrick and his buddy stared at them through the window, wide eyed, amused expressions on both their faces. Kubrick was a friend of the currently incarcerated Gordon Walker. He put out a hit on Sam and Y/N, claiming that they were anti-christs. Kubrick was a fellow hunter friend, who was quite religious.

So he believed that faith led him to Sam after searching for the Winchesters and Y/N for weeks at Gordon’s request. Now staring up at the sky with a content smile.

____________________________________________

Queens, New York

“You’re gonna give it back” Y/N demanded as she and Dean had an intense face off, their guns still aimed at Bela. “Ha, ha. Sweetie. No, I’m not” Bela chuckled smugly. “Yeah, we’ll see. Bela, right?” Dean smirked, narrowing his eyes at her. “That’s right, Dean and Y/N” Bela smirked back in response, “You know the things cursed, don’t ya?” Y/N pointed out as they circled each other.

“You’d be surprised what some people would pay for something like that” Bela snarked, “Really?” Dean cocked an eyebrow. “There’s a lucrative market out there. A lot of money to be made” Dean and Y/N’s brows furrowed with a tinge of disgust at Bela’s words, “You hunters with all those amulets and talismans you use to stop those big bad monsters. Any one of them could put your children’s children through college” Bella chuckled darkly.

“So you know the truth about what’s really going on out there and this is what you decide to do with it?” Dean scoffed as Y/N gritted her teeth, her finger was itching to pull the trigger. “You become a thief?” Dean chastised Bela with a sarcastic smolder, “I procure unique items for a select clientele” Bela defended.

“Yeah. A thief” Y/N stated bluntly, “No. A great thief” Bela grinned widely. Dean clenched his jaw, slightly rolling his eyes, “There’s no such thing as a good thief” He stated as Y/N stepped closer to Bela, glaring at her with fury in her veins. Bela smirked tauntingly in response, “There’s no such thing as a good hunter” She retorted back.

____________________________________________

Black Rock, New York

Kubrick and his buddy, Creedy, were now duck taping an unconscious Sam to a chair. He groaned in annoyance as he slowly came to, “Oh, he’s awake” Creedy mused as Kubrick smirked, “Back with us, eh?” he said as he got off of the bed. “Aye, we didn’t even have to touch you. You just went all spastic and knocked you and your girlfriend out yourself. It was like watching Jerry Lewis ride a stacked chair” Creedy laughed.

Sam squinted, trying to adjust his eyes. “Who are you? What do you- wait- Jo. Where’s Jo?!” Sam’s eyes frantically searched the room, remembering that Jo was completely naked when they got knocked out by the fall. A bile of disgust rumbled in Sam’s stomach.

Kubrick chuckled, walking closer to Sam. “Your girl’s taking a little nap. But you don’t have to worry ‘bout her. We took good care of her. Helped her put some clothes on. She’s in good hands” Kubrick smirked as he pointed to the bed with his gun. A now clothed Jo was gagged and tied to the bed, completely passed out from the chloroform they stifled her with.

Sam’s eyes widened with anger at seeing the state of his girlfriend. He struggled against his chair, trying desperately to break free. “Jo?! Baby, wake up!” Sam shouted, pleadingly. He felt disgusted with himself and ashamed that he touched that rabbit's foot now and pulled her down with him. Now these men, whom he has no idea are, saw the love of his life, passed out and bare.

Kubrick chuckled, moving closer to Sam, putting his face near his, “That ain’t gonna work” He warned smugly. Sam clenched his jaw, swallowing the anger, “What do you want?” He asked gruffly. “I used to think your friend Gordon sent me” Kubrick snapped his fingers, “Gordon? Oh, come on, man” Sam groaned in annoyance. “Because he asked me to track you down and put bullets in your head and Y/N’s.” Kubrick stated as he began to pace the room.

“Great, that sounds like him,” Sam huffed sarcastically. “But…” Kubrick put a finger up. “…as it turns out. I’m on a mission from God” He smirked before backhanding Sam across his face. Sam winced in pain at the force of his backhand. Kubrick leaned down at eye level with Sam, “Gordon said you and Y/N were the most evil sons of bitches there was” Kubrick claimed as he grabbed a handful of Sam’s hair.

Kubrick chuckled darkly, gripping Sam’s hair tighter, “Careful, Samuel. You might burn in hell with them if you keep taking the Lord's name in vain like that” Kubrick teased. Sam winced at his tight grip, grunting in pain. “Fuck you” He spat, rearing his head back to head butt Kubrick in his nose.

Kubrick stumbled back at the head-butt, clutching his now bloody nose. Creedy walked over to Kubrick, helping him up as he stumbled. His face contorted with anger and it was now Creedy’s turn to punch Sam. Sam’s head flopped to the other side, spitting out blood onto the floor as he glared at the two men.

His chin was now covered in blood. It stung badly and he could start to taste the copper of blood. His nose began to bleed, but it didn’t matter. His only worry was Jo on the bed, still passed out, but her eyes were now fluttering, attempting to wake from the chloroform.

____________________________________________

Queens, New York

“Look, Bela, my brother, he touched the foot. And when you took it from him, his luck went from-/” Y/N tried to explain but Bela cut her off, “I know how it works” Bela stated calmly, “So then you know he’s gonna die unless we can destroy it” Dean responded, their guns still trained on her. “Oh” Bela gasped dramatically, making Dean and Y/N’s raise their eyebrows.

“You can have the foot” They looked shocked at this, “For 1.5 million” This made them roll their eyes. “Nice. Yeah. I’ll just call my banker” Dean snarked. “How’d you even find the fucking thing? Stuck in the back of some storage place, middle of nowhere?” Dean asked. Bela then averted her gaze to an Ouija board that was sitting proudly on top of her fireplace.

Y/N seemed shocked, “I just asked a few of the ghosts of the people it had killed. They were very attuned into its location” Bela smirked as she turned back to them. Dean shook his head as he narrowed his eyes again at her. “So you’re only out for yourself, huh? It’s all about number one?” He scoffed. “Being a hunter is so much more noble? A bunch of obsessed, revenge-driven sociopaths trying to save a world that can’t be saved” Bela shot back.

This struck a nerve within Y/N, “Well, aren’t you a glass half full” She retorted, “We’re all going to hell, Y/N. Might as well enjoy the ride” Bela shrugged, this made Y/N’s chest ache when Dean said. “I actually agree with you there” Y/N’s gaze averted to Dean, slightly rolling her eyes to cover up the aching feeling in her chest. “Anywho, this has been…nice, but, uh, look at the time. Oh, and this?” Dean smirked, lifting the rabbit's foot up between his fingers, dangling it with a smirk.

Bela and Y/N’s jaws dropped. “What the fuck, Dean?!” Y/N screamed at her boyfriend, almost dropping her gun in the process. She had been too focused on her growing dislike towards Bela to notice Dean had snatched up the cursed object from the counter. “She’s not the only one with sticky fingers,” Dean shrugged, smiling wickedly. “If it’s any consolation, I think you’re a truly awful person” he snapped at Bela.

Bela had enough, shooting at Dean twice but narrowly missing due to the rabbit's luck. Y/N swiftly ducked underneath, charging towards the woman, spearing Bela in the process. Bela yelped from being slammed onto the ground, Y/N pinning her down and now had a tight grip on her hair, pressing her gun to her forehead as a warning to not try anything funny. Bela grunted in pain, glaring at the woman currently pinning her down.

Bela began to flail, swinging her arms out at Y/N wildly in an attempt to hit her, she knocked the psychic’s gun out of her hand, sending it darting across the room. Y/N growled, still pinning her down with her legs as she punched Bela straight across her face. She then retrieved her knife out of her jacket pocket, the dagger’s ancient powers activating her own as she placed it directly underneath Bela’s chin.

Bela froze as soon as the dagger touched her neck, swallowing in fear as she looked up at Y/N, who had a menacing glare, like she was ready to snap any minute now. She couldn’t move, she felt like her veins were on fire from the magic. Bela instantly recognized the dagger, “Where…did you..get that?” She grunted weakly.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you” Y/N scoffed, pressing the dagger more into her neck, not enough to draw blood, but she wanted to make the threat known. She narrowed her eyes into slits, baring her teeth at the thief. The sounds of sirens in the distance blaring caught their attention, “Princess, let’s go!” Dean shouted.

Y/N gritted her teeth, staring into Bela’s now terrified eyes, before pushing the dagger away from her and standing up. Dean grabbed her hand and they sprinted out the front door, running down the stairs onto the streets of New York.

Bela gasped, gripping her own throat as she attempted to catch her breath, still sprawled out on the ground. She’d know that dagger anywhere, she’d been looking for it for ages. It was nothing but a myth within small circles and minimal people knew of its existence. Most thought it was just a legend, a fable. It was barely documented in any history books and she was stunned.

A relic like that could easily start auctioning at 10 million dollars. The questions that bared in Bela’s mind was,

How the fuck did Y/N L/N become in possession of Maverick’s Dagger? And how would Bela be able to steal it from her?

Meanwhile, Y/N was breathing heavily at the adrenaline of what just happened, her hand still intertwined with Dean’s grasp as they sprinted down the road in the city and over to her bike. They quickly got on the motorcycle and she started up the engine, driving off into the distance at top speed. As they took off, Dean tightly wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close.

____________________________________________

Black Rock, New York

Jo’s muffled screams through her gag echoed through the room as Creedy and Kubrick repeatedly punched a half conscious Sam, now tossing a cold glass of water over his face. Sam groaned, blinking heavily as he regained consciousness and slowly looked up at the men. He squinted, trying to adjust his eyes to the light, still a bit wobbly and dizzy.

“You were part of that demon plan to open the gate” Kubrick narrowed his eyes at Sam, “We did everything we could to stop it” Sam tried to tell them. “Lie, lie, lie. You were in on it” Kubrick insisted, pointing as Sam. “You know what their next move is too, don’t you?”

Sam shook his head, “No, I don’t, okay? You’re wrong about all of this” He whimpered, “Where are they gonna hit us next?” Kubrick asked, Sam just sighed, shaking his head in defeat. “Where??” Kubrick demanded as he slapped the side of his face with his left hand.

Jo continued to struggle and scream painfully, trying to get out of her bindings as she thrashed in her spot. “I don’t know anything!” Sam cried, gritting his teeth. Kubrick took a step towards Jo in the bed, making his intentions clear. “No, please” Sam pleaded, “Don’t hurt her, please” He sobbed, his eyes wide, looking up at the man.

Kubrick ignored him, walking over to her and gripping a handful of her hair, yanking her head back to look at her. She hissed in pain as her eyes met his, a slight fear present behind them but she remained determined, refusing to show them any weakness.

“Gordon told me about you and Y/N, Sam. About your powers. You guys are some kind of weirdo, psychic freaks” Kubrick seethed as he flicked his hunting knife open, pressing it against Jo’s throat. Sam flinched as the blade touched Jo’s skin, his heartbeat thundered in his throat, pounding against his Adam’s apple.

He struggled against the duct tape, “No, not anymore! We have no powers, no visions! Nothing, it’s just-“ Sam pleaded, lying about it to protect Y/N but Kubrick realized so he slid the knife slightly, nicking Jo’s jaw enough to draw blood. “Lie!”

Jo screamed against the gag, shutting her eyes in pain as she felt the blood running down her chin. Kubrick looked over at Sam, narrowing his eyes with a smug expression as Creedy stood with his arms crossed over his chest. Sam looked over at his suffering girlfriend in pity.

“I don’t know anything! I’m not hiding anything!” He sobbed, trying to be convincing. “Now, no more lies. There’s an army of demons out there, pushing at a world already on the brink.” Kubrick demanded, trailing the knife down Jo’s arm. “We’re on deck for the end game here, right?” He smirked sadistically.

“So maybe, just maybe you can understand…why we can’t take chances” He then tossed his knife aside and unholstered his gun, aiming it directly at Sam’s forehead. Sam swallowed hard, his eyes widened as he saw the gun aimed at his head. “Woah, okay, okay. Now hold on a minute-” Sam pleaded, his breath quickening with a mixture of fear and panic as Jo screamed, begging Kubrick not to kill her boyfriend.

Creedy pulled his friend back, trying to stop him. Slapping up Sam a bit was alright by him, but watching Kubrick torture Jo and now try to kill Sam was too far for him. “Kubrick-” Creedy tried to reason, “No! You saw what happened, Creedy. Ask yourself, why are we here? Because you saw a picture on the web? Because we chose this motel instead of another?” Kubrick asked his friend rhetorically.

They stumbled upon a picture of the trio at Biggerson’s on the Internet, which was posted due to Sam winning the millionth customer award. Now the luck had turned sour, they sounded up finding him after hunting them for weeks with no outcome, “Look, I can explain all of that if-” Sam was cut off by a finger from Kubrick pointed at him. “Shut up” He gritted his teeth at Sam before turning back to Creedy.

Creedy sighed, looking conflicted. But Kubrick was stubborn and not going to back down easily, “It’s God, Creedy. He led us here for one reason. To do his work. This is destiny” Kubrick insisted, resuming his gun at Sam, ready to shoot. The cocking of two guns behind them made their heads whip to the side, “Nope. No destiny. Just a rabbit's foot” Dean smirked aiming his gun at Creedy as Y/N stood by his side, aiming her gun at Kubrick.

Kubrick and Creedy looked completely caught off guard as Dean and Y/N stood at the doorway, pointing their guns at them with narrowed eyes. Jo smiled behind the gag, breathing a sigh of relief behind it as she watched the pair stand proudly at the doorway.

Kubrick and Creedy exchanged uncertain looks, as if they were communicating to each other with their eyes on what they should do. Creedy raised his hands in surrender as Kubrick smirked cockily, not taking his gun away from Sam. “Put the gun down, son or you’re gonna be scraping brain off the wall” Kubrick threatened.

“Oh, this thing?” Dean shook his gun, toying with him. “Yeah, that thing” Kubrick smiled menacingly, Dean then handed his gun to his girlfriend (who was still mad at him for touching the rabbit’s foot but hadn’t gotten a chance to chew him out for it yet), “Okay, but you see, there’s something about me that you don’t know.” Dean smirked as he picked up a pen from the nightstand next to him.

“Yeah, what would that be?” Kubrick snorted, now aiming his gun at Dean. “It’s my lucky day.” Dean smiled before suddenly flicking the pen over to Kubrick. The pen got stuck right in the barrel of the gun, shocking both Sam and Jo as Y/N shook her head with disappointment. “Oh my god. Did you see that shot?” Dean laughed, impressed with himself.

Creedy took the chance and lunged at Dean, only to miss drastically when Dean simply ducked out of the way. Then with a wave of Y/N’s hand, she sent him flying into the wall, hitting it back first with a loud thud and heavy grunt. Y/N smirked in satisfaction when Creedy flew back, hitting the wall.

She knew that would’ve hurt a lot. This made Kubrick look at her with suspicion, seeing her use telekinesis on him. He quickly tried to pull the pen out of the gun’s barrel as Dean said, “I’m amazing” before picking up a remote from the table and hurling it straight at Kubrick.

It slammed into Kubrick’s forehead, knocking him unconscious instantly. He fell to the door with a loud thud as Dean smirked smugly, “I’m Batman” He practically mewed as Sam, Jo and Y/N looked unimpressed, “Yeah, you’re Batman” Sam scoffed, “And I’m Catwoman” Y/N added sarcastically, rolling her eyes, harshly shoving her gun into his chest as his face dropped subsequently.

She made her way over to Jo immediately as Dean made his way over to Sam, Y/N took out her butterfly from her butterfly knife from her boot. Flicking it open to cut Jo out of her bounds.

“Are you okay, honey?” She asked as Jo nodded, still gagged, groaning as she tried to talk, which was muffled against the gag tied over her mouth. Y/N cut the duct tape and removed the gag, tossing it aside. Jo coughed, her voice raw and hoarse from the gag and the constant screams she had yelled out.

Dean did the same, cutting his brother out of the duct tape that bound him to the chair. Sam sighed in relief as he felt the tape being cut free, his sore wrists were finally freed. The red marks on his wrists would definitely leave a mark, showing the tightness of the duct tape.

“You alright, champ?” Dean asked Sam, clapping him on his shoulder. Sam simply nodded and immediately crossed the room, over to his girlfriend. Sam rushed over to Jo, checking her over to make sure she was okay. He pulled her into a tight and protective embrace, holding her close to his chest, her head resting on his shoulder.

Jo held onto him tightly as she shivered slightly, her body shaking from the trauma she just experienced but she attempted to keep a brave face. “I’m so sorry, angel. This is all my fault” Sam’s voice broke as he held her to his chest, his stature fully engulfed her small frame.

Jo shook her head, shushing him before pulling away slightly to look up at him, “No, no, don’t say that, Sammy. This isn’t your fault, I promise.” She reassured him, caressing his cheek, her thumb lovingly tracing his cheekbone as he leaned into her touch.

But he didn’t believe it. He didn’t know what he would have done if he was too late to save her, he didn’t want to know what he would have done if she got hurt.

Dean and Y/N watched Jo and Sam interact with frowns on their face but it eased them seeing how much love they were for each other.

Sam leaned down, capturing Jo’s lips tenderly but short. Her fingers brushed through his hair, massaging his scalp soothingly as they stayed in their embrace, holding each other lovingly.

Y/N looked at Dean and nodded towards the door, indicating for them to leave the two to give them a few minutes of time alone before they left to do the cleansing ritual.

Sam and Jo pulled apart, but their foreheads stayed resting on each other, their noses brushing lightly against each other. Sam leaned down to kiss her forehead, his hand on her waist, pulling her even closer, almost as if he was holding his whole world in his arms.

“I love you” Sam murmured, his lips still brushing against her forehead as Jo shut her eyes tight, inhaling his scent, savouring it. The smell of peppermint and coffee soothing her senses. She wanted that smell to fill her lungs. She opened her eyes again, looking up at him, her fingers still playing with his hair and lightly massaging his head.

Sam felt her fingers combing through his hair, massaging his scalp as he leaned into her hand, his forehead still on hers as she said with a small smile, “I love you more, Sammy” She whispered softly, looking into his eyes, getting lost in their hazel-green shade. She felt warm and safe in his arms, her head fitting perfectly in his chest.

They all were now in a cemetery, performing the cleansing ritual for the rabbit’s foot. The only thing left to do was toss it in the fire. Sam knelt down, sprinkling the last bit of the cayenne pepper into the hot pit as Y/N chanted the incantation spell Bobby gave them while Jo stood besides Sam.

“Alright. Bone ash. Cayenne pepper and the spell. That should do it” Sam said to his brother as he pushed himself up to his feet. Dean was still trying to milk his luck, scratching away at the last few scratch offs he bought. On the ride back from Queens, he begged Y/N to stop at a gas station and blew all of his money on tickets.

“One second” Dean mumbled, scratching away. “Dean-” Sam groaned, “Hey, back off, jinx. Daddy’s bringing the bacon home” Dean snapped, blowing away the dust from the scratch off as Y/N grimaced. “You’re seriously doing this now?” Jo asked, crossing her arms. “You did not just refer to yourself as ‘daddy’, gross” Y/N groaned, trying not to vomit.

“It’s a term of endearment, sweetheart. Don’t be a stick in the mud.” Dean mocked as he continued to scratch at the ticket. Y/N narrowed her eyes at her boyfriend, “You know damn well I’m no-”

“Please don’t finish that sentence, I’ve had enough torture for one day” Sam interrupted, a look of disgust on his face. “What? You would prefer mommy?” Jo joked with a smirk, earning a groan from Sam. “Dude, stop” Sam complained, a small laugh escaping his lips.

They were all exhausted and just wanted to get rid of the cursed object, finish this whole mess and get the hell out of here.

“Alright” Dean smiled as he moved over to the headstone he placed his jacket on, he stuffed the winning tickets into his pockets before taking the rabbit’s foot out, dangling it in the air. “Say goodbye, wascally wabbit” Sam sighed, shaking his head, “Dean, you really need to stop watching cartoons” He groaned. Jo chuckled at this but bit down on her bottom lip as Y/N snorted.

“I think you’ll find that belongs to me” Bela’s voice sounded behind them. They all spun around to see her now aiming and cocking her gun at them. “Or, you know, whatever” She smirked, “Put the foot down, honey” She demanded from Dean.

Dean swallowed, narrowing his eyes at Bela with a clenched jaw. “No. You’re not gonna shoot anybody” He scoffed, “See, I happen to be able to read people too. Okay, you’re a thief, fine, but you’re not-” Dean’s smug words were cut short when Bela shot twice, once at Sam’s shoulder and the other at Y/N’s.

Sam fell back at the impact of the bullet, groaning in pain as he clenched his shoulder. Y/N quickly stumbled backwards, her hand pressing against the bullet wound as she gritted her teeth to suppress a scream of pain that was threatening to escape her throat.

“SON OF A-” “YOU BITCH!” Dean and Jo shouted enraged, ready to maul Bela. “Back off, tiger. Back off” Bela gritted her teeth at them. Dean held back a growl of frustration, gritting his teeth to the point it begun to hurt, his fist clenched in anger at the fact that she shot Sam AND Y/N. He felt the urge to shoot a hole right in the middle of her forehead with the rage coursing through his veins.

Jo’s glared at Bela so deathly, you’d think the thief would be six feet under by now. She knelt to Sam’s side, cradling him. She shot Y/N a look of concern but Y/N gave her a thumbs up, indicating she was okay.

“You make one more move and I’ll pull the trigger” Bela threatened. Sam attempted to get up but Jo stopped him, gently pushing him back down as she sat him up and rested his head against the grave. Y/N took the shot pretty well, the pain was still stinging like hell but she was still on her feet.

She was still glaring at Bela, the pain in her shoulder forgotten for a moment with how mad she was. Dean’s heart plummeted as he moved back slightly and held his arms up in surrender, his hands shaking in pure rage.

“You’ve got the luck, Dean. You, I can’t hit.�� Bela smirked before pointing at Sam with the gun, “But your brother?” she then pointed at Y/N, “And your girlfriend? Them I can’t miss” This made Dean snap. “What the hell is wrong with you?! You don’t just go around shooting people like that!” His voice went up and octave as he shouted.

“Relax, it’s a shoulder hit. I can aim. Besides, who here hasn’t shot a few people?” Bela scoffed cockily. Jo glared at Bela as rage coursed through her veins at the woman’s words. The fact that Bela was making jokes and making this whole thing out to be a fun little game was starting to piss her off.

Jo stood up, pushing Sam gently away from her as she stormed up to Bela, “You really think this is just some fun little game you’re playing?” She scoffed, her fists clenched. “Oh sweetie, it’s just business” Bela grinned before turning back to Dean. “Put the rabbit's foot on the ground, now.” She demanded.

Dean felt his heart pounding against his chest. All this was for a damn rabbit foot. He took a deep breath, his eyes fixated on the ground, trying to keep a calm composure but it wasn’t working. “Alright! Alright, take it easy” Dean slowly lowered the foot, pretending to place it down, “Think fast” he smirked, tossing it into Bela’s hand.

Instinctively, she caught it. “Fuck” She cursed, rolling her eyes. Dean smiled sarcastically, “Now, what do you say we destroy that ugly-ass piece of dead thing?” She rolled her eyes, annoyed by Dean’s smug cocky nature that she was beginning to hate more and more. She then looked over at Jo, who was glaring daggers at her. She shifted uncomfortably, swallowing the nervous lump in her throat.

Bela dropped the rabbit’s foot into the fire, allowing it to be set aflame. “Thanks” She scoffed sarcastically, “I’m out one-and-a-half million and on the bad side of a very powerful, fairly psychotic buyer” she grumbled as she stuck her hands in her pockets.

“Wow. I really don’t feel bad about that” Dean deadpanned but his hands were still shaking with anger. Jo just glared at the woman. Sam and Y/N weren’t in the mood for jokes after both getting shot. “Sam? Y/N? Jo?”

“Nope” The three responded in unison. “Not even a fucking little” Jo added, seething through her teeth as Sam and Y/N pressed bandannas to their wounds. “Hmm” Bela hummed, turning away from them. “Maybe next time, I’ll hang you out to dry” Bela smirked, leaning against this headstone Dean has his jacket on.

Y/N immediately went over to her, slapping her hand away from her man’s jacket. Oh, don’t go away angry, just go away” She seethed. Sam watched them from a distance, chuckling softly at the sight of the two woman bickering. Jo held Sam close as he shook his head, his lips in a thin line. Jo felt her anger start to fizzle away now that Bela was leaving.

“Have a goodnight, everyone” With that Bela left as Y/N eyed her suspiciously. She took her Dean’s jacket from the headstone and handed it to him.

They were now walking out of the cemetery, Dean had his arm wrapped around Y/N, who was clutching her shoulder. As Jo did the same with Sam. “You guys, good?” He asked the two. “I’ll live,” Sam nodded, leaning his head on Jo’s shoulder as she pressed a sweet, gentle kiss to his cheek.

Y/N gave Dean a weak smile, “Still hurts like a motherfucker but it’ll be alright.” She grimaced in pain, “Maybe a trip to the hospital would be good, if it doesn’t stop hurting that is.” Dean sighed, nodding in agreement, “We’ll go as soon as we get back to the motel.” He said, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. He held her close, her head rested on his shoulder.

“So I guess we’re back to normal huh? No good luck, no bad luck” Dean sounded almost disappointed when he said this then remembered. “Oh- I forgot we’re up $46,000. I almost forget the…scratch tickets” His words trailed off when he searched his pockets, only to come up empty.

Dean’s heart plummeted as Bela’s car sped off, she honked her horn twice. Sam shook his head at his brother's stupidity, trying not to laugh along with Jo. “SON OF A BITCH!!” Dean bellowed, thinking Bela stole the tickets.

Dean pulled back from Y/N, his eyes widening as he frantically checked his own pockets. He felt around like a desperate man, praying that maybe he had just hidden them in another jacket pocket instead. This only made the three laugh harder.

“Relax, charming” Y/N chuckled, retrieving them from her pocket. She noticed when Bela went over to the headstone with Dean’s jacket, she was getting sticky fingers with the tickets. That’s why she went over and snatched it away from her. While no one was looking, she stuffed the tickets into her own pocket.

Dean’s heart started beating again when he saw Y/N take the tickets out of her pocket. His shoulders relaxed out of relief, his heart rate finally going back to normal. Dean looked down at his girlfriend like she was his hero, “God, I love you” He smiled, peppering her face with kisses.

She giggled as Dean covered her in kisses, feeling his lips all over her face. Sam and Jo made gagging sounds in the background, which earned them looks from Dean and Y/N. “Oh shut up, Sammy”

“You can thank me for saving your ass $46,000 with a new helmet for Quinn and dinner” She joked, her free and uninjured hand resting on his jaw. Dean grinned, pecking her lips, “I’ll buy the helmet and dinner, princess. Whatever you want” He chuckled, squeezing her hip lightly as they all began walking back to their vehicles.

Jo playfully swatted Sam’s chest, “Hey. Why didn’t you win $46,000 when you had the rabbit’s foot?” She teased him, linking her arm into his uninjured one. Sam rolled his eyes, “Shut up” He laughed, shaking his head. Jo giggled at this, rubbing her thumb over his arm as they walked together with an arm around each other.

“He won at least $5000 from this when I forced him to scratch a bunch, don’t worry” Dean chimed in, flashing Jo a grin over his shoulder. “Really?” Jo raised an eyebrow at Dean, her curiosity peaked. “Yeah” Dean grinned, chuckling as Sam rolled his eyes again, shaking his head in embarrassment.

____________________________________________

Aurora, New York

•Two Days Later

Jo rode Y/N’s bike back to her safehouse while she and Sam rode with Dean. They spent the previous day holed up in the safehouse and living on takeout. But the next day, Y/N insisted on cooking since it had been a while since any of them had a proper home cooked meal.

Her and Sam’s bullet wounds were almost fully healed, thanks to a healing balm she made. It was one of her first concoctions she learnt to make from a spell book Bobby gave her, it was originally owned by an old psychic friend of his. It was basically a ‘Psychism for Beginners’ manual. The balm was basic but smelt like crap so Y/N altered it to give it her own twist.

Now, the Winchester boys were passed out in the living room. Everyone fell asleep there since they decided to have a Back To The Future movie night marathon, binging all three movies.

The sun beamed down on them through the windows as the sounds of birds chirping filled the air. Jo and Y/N sat on the patio of the safe house, enjoying the morning sunlight and a cup of steaming coffee on their laps.

Jo exhaled, taking a sip of her drink before humming in satisfaction. Y/N did the same, her eyes shut as she felt the warmth of the sun’s rays on her face. This was a rare sight, to see the two girls enjoying some peace and quiet together, without the boys.

It was peaceful and relaxing. Something they both haven’t felt for a while, enjoying the silence and peace as the birds chirped outside. Y/N exhaled, taking another sip of her coffee as she let herself forget all her worries for a brief moment. Jo was still shaken up after the incident with Kubrick and Creedy but managed to keep her mind distracted, still trying to move on from the trauma.

Y/N noticed the look of despair on her sister’s face, contemplating whether or not to push on the topic. So instead, “Hey, you wanna head out to the grocery now?” She asked her. Jo snapped out of it, nodding as she finished her coffee, placing it on the table next to her. She stood up, stretching slightly, still feeling a tightness in her muscles from the bullet wound in her shoulder.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea, plus the boys will wake up soon” She said, yawning. Jo started walking with Y/N, opening the patio door to head back into the house. They both decided to get a quick shower and fix themselves up before leaving.

Dean and Sam were still sound asleep in the living room, sleeping on the couch and the armchair. Their bodies sprawled across the furniture like dead weight, they were out cold.

After showering, the girls crept downstairs so they didn’t wake up the boys. Y/N tiptoed over to the couch, leaning down slowly to pick up Dean’s keys. When she retrieved it, she quickly stuffed it into her pocket and laid a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Dean stirred a little upon feeling her lips on his forehead but he remained asleep, not showing any signs of waking up. Y/N smiled faintly, his freckles standing out in the sunlight. She could stare at him like this for hours, her heart fluttering at his peaceful look.

Jo did the same with Sam as Y/N tiptoed back to the kitchen. She gently moves his brown locks aside with her finger tips to press a light kiss to his cheek. Sam stirred sleepily, his eyes cracking open. He looked up at Jo, blinking a couple times before giving a sleepy smile. He leaned up to kiss her cheek softly. “Where are you two going?” He asked sleepily. His voice was gravelly and hoarse, sounding sleepy.

Jo chuckled softly, rubbing Sam’s cheek gently, “We’re gonna go to the grocery, we’ll be back soon, I promise. You can take another nap or something, go back to bed, baby” She said softly, her touch comforting. Sam nodded in response, closing his eyes again with a content hum as he got comfortable on the couch.

Jo moved to sit next to him, running her fingers through his hair soothingly. She knew this would help him fall asleep again. It definitely worked as he was knocked out in less than a minute, his breathing even with a small hint of snoring.

“You ready?” Y/N whispered to Jo as she got up from the couch. She went to the kitchen to get her sticky notes, scribbling a note that said, ‘Going on a supply run, brb. There’s coffee in the pot and leftover pizza in the fridge. Make sure you take the coffee maker off after, I love you babe xoxo’

She ripped it out from the pad and stuck it right on his nose, causing Jo to snort. Jo laughed quietly at the sticky note, shaking her head at Y/N. Dean was still sound asleep, unaware of what was happening. She took out her phone and snapped a picture just to show Sam later, knowing he’ll laugh at it too.

Y/N and Jo both made their way out to the driveway, Y/N took out the keys to the Impala, unlocking the car, “Ready to go?” She asked Jo with a grin as she slid into the driver’s seat. Jo nodded as she buckled in her seatbelt, “Yep, let’s go” She said as Y/N started the engine, driving out of the garage, leaving the boys to sleep through the day.

A few hours had passed since Y/N and Jo left and Dean was starting to stir from his awkward position on the small couch. Dean groaned, his back feeling stiff as he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck to relieve the tension and pain in his muscles. He rubbed his eyes, yawning and stretching, making a bone or two pop.

Dean looked around the living room, noticing his brother was still passed out on the other couch. He got up from the couch, his head whipping around to look for Y/N, finding her absent. She must still be upstairs but where was Jo? He looked confused and got up to check, rubbing his tired eyes.

He felt a piece of paper crumple at his feet. His brows furrowed as he lifted it up to see the sticky note Y/N left on his nose had fallen and stuck to his foot. He laughed to himself as he read the note, “She knows me too damn well” He said with a quiet chuckle, finding it entertaining that she knew he would have no problem drinking coffee or eating leftover pizza.

Just as Dean was about to pad over to the kitchen for some coffee, his phone rang on the coffee table. Dean looked over at the phone as the loud ringing interrupted him. He picked it up and answered it, not checking to see who was calling. “Hello?” He answered, his voice still hoarse and groggy from the sleep. His free hand was rubbing the back of his neck, trying to work out the kinks.

“Dean?? Where’s Y/N?!” Bobby’s panicked voice echoed through the phone, in the background, Dean heard items scattering. It sounded like Bobby was tearing his house apart. Dean was immediately on high alert as he heard Bobby’s panicked voice through the phone. He was wide awake now, panic coursing through his body. It was a bad habit of hunters to instantly think of the worst possible scenario.

Sam began to groan in his own spot on the couch, twisting and turning in his sleep. Dean paid Sam no attention as his brows knitted together, his heart racing, his mind going to dark places. “Bobby, what’s going on?” He asked frantically, his heart rate picking up speed.

“I can’t find the dagger, where’s the damn dagger?“ Bobby muttered in frustration. Confusion etched over Dean’s face, “What do you mean? Y/N didn’t tell you it showed up in her bag?” Dean asked. “It what?!” Bobby exclaimed, gripping his head. The way Bobby snapped made Dean flinch a bit, “No, the girl didn’t say a damn thing” Bobby snapped, his irritation growing.

Sam began to stir at the sound of his brother’s voice, becoming more and more aware of his surroundings. Dean then took up a pillow from the couch and tossed it at his brother before putting the phone on speaker.

Sam groaned as he caught the pillow, sitting up slightly and rubbing his eyes, looking like a big bear waking up from his long nap. Dean made a shushing motion with his hand, telling him to remain quiet. “Bobby, just calm down, alright?” Dean said in a calm, soothing tone, hoping to diffuse the situation. “What’s going on?” Sam asked, his voice filled with sleep.

Bobby took a breath as he ran a hand over his face, trying to ease his anxiety, “That knife Y/N found? It ain’t no knife, it’s a damn dagger. It’s Maverick’s fucking Dagger” Bobby told them. “It’s what?!” Sam and Dean asked in unison. Dean’s brows were furrowed again, confused by the name, not recognizing it anywhere but Sam was familiar with the story of Maverick’s Dagger. So his expression was a lot different to Dean’s, his heart pace rapidly growing.

“That’s impossible. I thought that was a myth” Sam gasped. Dean was even more confused. Did he miss a major detail in this mess they were dealing with? “Who the hell is Maverick?” He asked, his face scrunching up in confusion.

Bobby sighed, “Ronald Maverick. He was earth’s first known and widely recognized psychic in the late 1400s. He’s the reason the Seven Deadly sins were banished back to hell. I don’t know how I didn’t put it together when Y/N found that knife on Envy, but the legend goes, he sensed their return to earth in the early 1500s and he became so greedy for more power to send them back to hell. So he crafted the knife, using his own blood in order to exorcise them with the help of a witch, his wife.” He explained, his brows furrowed, the anger and panic was slowly subsiding as his voice became calmer.

“Only, he didn’t know his wife was actually harnessing energy from a ‘yellow eyed demon’ to power the dagger, so, out of anger, hurt and betrayal, he killed her with it. The dagger was never seen again until the Seven Deadly Sins came back on earth. Even I believed it was a myth before Bela called me and told me about it. That woman is a nasty thief and when something pretty valuable catches her eye, she takes it. And if this knife falls into the wrong hands, it’s gonna be hell to pay, boy” Bobby grumbled as he took off his cap.

“That damn hunk of junk makes any creature of nature greedy for power, angry for lost loved ones, it amplifies vengeance in their souls. Tainting it till it’s irreparable. Rumor has it, any full bred-psychic who even breathes too hard near the thing goes berserk if they don’t get enough power or vengeance. Long story short so we need to get that damn thing away from Y/N until it’s late. Good intentions or not, it’s evil beyond explanation” Bobby concluded.

Dean felt the blood drain from his face as he listened to what Bobby was telling them. His stomach dropped as the feeling of dread hit him like a ton of bricks. Dean swallowed the nervous lump in his throat, his heart racing as his thoughts began to race. His mind immediately going to Y/N and her whereabouts, his heart felt like it was going to beat out his chest in that moment.

Sam sat there with his head in his hands, taking in everything Bobby told them, fear and panic coursing through his body. His head was spinning with the thoughts about that dagger and what it can do, the effects it has on psychics who wield it for too long. The fact that Y/N had possession of it right now, just the thought of it made Sam feel nauseous.

“Boys? You there?” Bobby’s voice echoed through the speaker. Either of the Winchesters had yet to say a word. Dean took a breath, shaking his head and forcing his panicked mind to focus again. He cleared his throat, “Yeah, Bobby. We’re still here” His voice was a little hoarse as he spoke.

Dean put one hand over his eyes as he tried to ground himself in the moment, his mind still racing with thoughts. He took slow breaths, in and out, his shoulders rising and falling at random intervals.

The door to the L/N New York safehouse opened and in walked Y/N and Jo. They froze in their tracks upon seeing Sam and Dean practically tearing apart the house, looking for the dagger. They tried getting onto Y/N but she wasn’t answering her phone.

As soon as they realised the girls were back, the boys rushed over like dogs in a hunt. They both crowded the girls, Sam grabbed Jo and Dean grabbed Y/N by the arm. “Where is it?” Dean demanded, “Where’s what?” She asked confused, almost stumbling with the grocery bags in hand.

“The dagger you found, where is it?” Dean asked again, his voice a lower tone, almost sounding like a growl. He was desperate, his heart pounding harshly in his ears, he was panicked. “Oh, it’s in my jacket. Why?” She asked as she and Jo placed the bags on the kitchen counter. She then took it out and handed it to Dean.

Dean snatched the dagger from Y/N’s hand. He grimaced, gripping the dagger tightly in his hand, “We need to destroy it” Y/N’s eyes bulged out, “What the fuck?! No, why?!” She exclaimed, trying to snatch it back from him.

“This ain’t a damn joke Y/N. That thing is dangerous as hell! You need to stay away from that thing!” Dean snapped, his tone sounding angry and desperate. “Charming, it’s fine!” Y/N snapped, her tone rising. She attempted to snatch the dagger back, but Dean held it higher out of her reach.

“Y/N, stop!” Sam stepped in, grabbing the dagger from his brother. “Bobby just called us, it’s Maverick’s Dagger” Sam dropped the ball, “No fucking way” Y/N gasped, recognizing its name. She knew the bare minimum when it came to it, having stumbled upon it when she and Sam were researching on lore sites about her lineage. “Does everyone know about this fucking dagger but me????” Dean rolled his eyes.

All four of them stood outside the safe house in a small clearing, Y/N and Jo clutching their jackets. “Good riddance” Y/N sighed as Sam, Dean and Jo watched her toss the dagger into the fire pit. The fire crackled and sparked, the flames dancing wildly as they consumed the dagger, slowly turning it to ash.

Not a single ounce of the dagger remained as the fire finally died, leaving nothing but ash and charcoal. Sam wrapped his arm around Jo, leading her back into the house as Y/N rested her head on Dean’s shoulder. “Is it terrible to say that I’m gonna miss it?”

Dean laughed softly, “Of course you would say that princess” He joked, kissing the top of her head as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her tightly into his side. Y/N rested her head against his chest, her eyes shutting as she savoured the moment.

Being in Dean’s arms was her favourite place to be, it always made her feel at ease and safe. She felt his lips on her head, her heart fluttering with butterflies in her stomach. His arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close. She wished it could last forever.

Dean hesitated for a moment, thinking of the possibilities. Nothing was easy like this, it felt suspiciously easy as if it was way too simple. It unnerved him a bit but he had to push that feeling down for her and Sam’s sake. It wasn’t something they needed to worry about, not at this moment.

But at least it was gone. He looked down at her, “I don’t know but I’m glad it’s gone for good” He said softly, kissing her forehead again. He held her close, resting his chin on her head as he swayed from side to side with her. The fire had died down, the ashes of the dagger were still fresh. He held her protectively in his arms, savouring this moment before it could be ruined.

“Come on, sweetie. I’ll get started on lunch, you must be starving” She said softly, unwrapping herself from his arms but she took his left hand into her right, leading him towards the house.

Dean nodded, giving her hand a gentle squeeze as his thumb ran back and forth over her skin.

He was starving, food definitely sounded good right about now. Especially with Y/N’s cooking, his mouth was beginning to water.

While she was walking to the house, something at the back of y/n’s mind told her that this wasn’t over yet. She forced herself to leave it there, not voicing her thoughts since they quite literally just burnt the dagger to a crisp.

That meant it was over. That meant it was gone forever. That meant there was no way it could apparently corrupt her now. Right?

____________________________________________

Author’s Note: HEEEELLLLLOOOOO AGAAAINNNN. This was SO long overdue. Once again, I am so sorry for making you guys wait but I really do hope that it was worth it!

This chapter is dedicated to my bestie @nesnejwritings , Maverick’s Dagger is named after him. I love you, sugarbear. I’ve said it once but I’ll say it again, thank you for always giving me the best advice when it comes to Genesis and always listening to me rant about it. I love love loveee you till the day I die❤️❤️❤️

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

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

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

@iloveyou2mia @thelittlelightinthedarkness @lmhf1 @littletomboy2 @zigzoggy

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

@ladykitana90 @strawberrykiwisdogog @barnes70stark

All in all, I hope you guys liked it🥰Be sure to tell me what you liked and hated!

Xoxo

#dean winchester #supernatural #spn #sam winchester #dean and sam #sam and dean #supernatural fandom #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you

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nemesis-writer · 17 hours ago

Text

Five Minutes (Chapter 3)

Masterlist Let the Games Begin TW: mentions of blood, mental illness

The Waynes were waiting in agony for their first game. They were prepared to battle it together. But what they didn't know is that they each of them have to go through it alone.

In the Base...

I'm only known as Eurus in the underground world but my name shall always be (Y/N). I have built myself up all the way just to taste the blood in my hands. I was never gonna be the next Robin nor Batman, so why not create a name for my own.

I was able to send the letter for the first test for them, and have it sent anonymously. Now, I need to sleep as well.

I maybe a concierge of crime, but I also need to be with my baby.

At the Waynes'...

Everyone had to keep their eyes peeled and remain unflinching. Whenever there is a delivery or a package, there is always an inspection with x-rays in order to make sure that it's harmless.

They had to take extra precautions in order to prevent the exploitation of their identities, along with the ramifications of their 'stainless' reputation.

Until it was finally there...

The first game.

It had 'DAMIAN.' Written in capital letters, and in the notorious green color designed. Thanks Riddler.

The letter...

There's a child's life on the line Little Demon. If you try to pull anything, so here's a little riddle.

Here's a riddle based on Squid Game, Saw, and a basement:

'In shadows deep, where fear does grow, A game begins, you do not know. With each step forward, the danger nears, The stakes are high, and so are fears.

Twisted minds, with plans so sly, Trapped in a place where you can't ask why. A room cold, with echoes loud, Walls closing in, no escape allowed.

Through chains and locks, you struggle, fight, But only the brave can see the light. The clock is ticking, time is tight, Where are you now? What’s out of sight?'

"Bruce, what does this mean?", Damian wonders.

"Walls closing in? Trapped in a- Oh shit." Bruce cursed. It was an unusual sight for Bruce to curse since he was usually informed how barbaric it was by Alfred.

"It's a basement of an abandoned factory." Bruce stated.

"A bit more specific since there's like a hundred of them especially in Gotham." Jason says.

"Alright so I need everyone to split up and go through every abandoned factory and if anyone sees any sign of life or a clue then speak in the comms." Bruce commanded.

They all spread out one by one looking for the kid or at least a clue. Factory to factory, street to street, they searched high and low and even the most minute details weren't left out.

Until they finally found it.

The first clue.

"Guys I found the first clue, I'm in Bludhaven Street."yelled Dick.

Everyone rushed and reached the basement. It also showed an old, probably made in the 1900's, telephone. They were too eager to even notice the hidden security cameras.

Damian eagerly opened it and read:

'In a room so small, the walls feel tight, A game is set, but not of delight. No choice, no chance to run away, You must stay sharp and make your play.

The door is locked, the air is cold, Silent whispers of the truth untold. A puzzle waits, a test of mind, With every step, danger you’ll find.

Ticking sounds, a faint warning near, What’s hidden here is crystal clear. Almost there, the end in sight— But tread carefully, or face the night.'

'Room, ticking, no chance, locked door.' Bruce tries to think of it.

"A bomb in an apartment." Jason figured out and yelled. All the the sudden the phone starts to ring.

"Someone answer the phone," Cassandra yelled.

"You answer the fucking phone," Damian replied.

"This is your test Demon Spawn there is a kid on the line and more people with the kid." Jason retorts.

Damian reluctantly answered the phone and heard:

'Congratulations for the first game, Where blood will spill and none’s to blame. A twisted start, a sinister plot, A place where hope is soon forgot.

The faces cold, their eyes wide with fear, For every step, a fate draws near. No room for mercy, no chance to flee, In this cruel game, there’s no decree.

As the doors close, the lights grow dim, The air grows thick with a haunting hymn. A moment's silence, a final breath, The line between life and certain death.

Congratulations for the first game, But it’s too late now to place the blame. Tick-tock, tick-tock, it’s time to spin, Let the games begin.'

Taglist

@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz, @vanessa-boo, @ivyrose9194,@thesehandsarerated-e, @eyeless-kun, @errorunfound1, @gwyneveire, @alishii, @cxcillia

#yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #yandere damian wayne #yandere richard grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere barbara gordon #yandere tim wayne #gifs #assassin reader #psycho reader

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aldermos · 1 year ago

Note

bro you converted me from "surgeamy sucks" to "why did i hate this so much?"

no because at first that was me too 😭 until a couple fanarts and hc dynamics got me like 'wow this has potential', and it eventually lead to this blog

but i totally get it if it's not someone's cup of tea, the ship is going off headcanons and little interaction; still, i think its a fun dynamic for what is technically a crackship 😚

#sth #surgamy #surgeamy #surge the tenrec #amy rose #now we wait for idw 67 intently #thank you for the ask i look forward to reading and answering #asks #i wont lie i first read 'surgamy sucks' and it gave me a mini heart attack #because this blog is mostly dedicated to them 💀#wait would it still be considered a crackship?#art style inconsistency prevails #alex :] rtz

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deoidesign · 7 months ago

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Deo, Deo, Wait Deo.

First of all, HII i love your comic!

And Second of all! What do you MEAN the "vampire hunter" is an "other"??? Was that in the comic? Did i forget about something??? This is very plausible, my memory is horrible. Do we actually know what's his deal? Or was it hinted and perhaps went over my head?? My eyes are wide open, filled with wonder, and ears are listening 👁️👁️

it's not any sort of canon moment you could have picked up on or something you could have missed, don't worry!

That relationship chart is sort of just a little bit of the "what's going on in my head while I'm writing" and a part of that is that to me, I see people like witches and vampire hunters as partially intertwined with the concept of the supernatural. They are human, but they are defined by their relationship to the supernatural, in a way that makes them almost something other than human.

so he is "other" because he's a vampire hunter. Whether this is due to bloodline, his book, some sense he developed or trained, or just a choice he made is up for interpretation, but that's why I marked him as such!

I would also likely mark Eleanor as half other for the same reason!

#I hope this makes sense HAHAHHA #also thank yo so much for reading I'm so glad you like my comic #and also thank you for the extremely fun question #I got TWO really good questions today I'm so excited about them uaughasjkgshakgshgjkas #seriously like looking forward to answering them all morning #anyways yeah much open to interpretation but that was at least my reasoning #I dont have time to update the chart with the new arcs and maybe a cleaner layout today cause I have plans with a friend soon but #yeah like my work hours are actuall just straight up 40 hours a week right now #cause for personal reasons I'm matching my bfs schedule exactly atm #so when he's at work I'm at work #probably healthier for me but also like uhh...#I have more than 40 hours of work every week #cause of fuckin WEBTOON!!!!#its ok its ok its ok #uhm. anyways #thank you so much for the question seriously #exciting and very fun #asks #yoshiintheweb

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cerealboxlore · 2 years ago

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Hello! I saw an ask you'd answered regarding Billy sharing powers, and how you'd seen him do it with the jl before, there was a wizard staff? I was just wondering if you could tell me about it, I'm writing a fic based on that concept and I can't find anything about it! I was so delighted to see your post, it came at just the right time! Anything would be appreciated, I'm still new to dc ^^

Hello hello! I love answering asks! :D

I believe it may be up to interpretation to the writer. From what I saw in the 2019 "SHAZAM" movie, Billy needed the wizard staff in order to share his power with his family members, and with their hands on the staff they needed to speak the name of Shazam as well. However, from the Lego DC SHAZAM: Magic and Monsters, Billy, (from what I remember), didn't need the staff to bestow his power onto them. I believe he only summoned his magical lightning and zapped them with it intensely.

Either way, Shazam (Captain Marvel) can still share his powers with people he trusts or deems as "family" to him. You could even write your own interpretation if you'd like, I know I'd be super interested in seeing what you have in mind 👀

Maybe all it takes is a zap of lightning, or maybe there needs to be a magical ceremony, or even a lightning/lichtenberg tattoo etched onto to skin somewhere (maybe the spine) as a source of temporary power. Anything is possible within the realms of writing!

#I love answering asks #I'm still a little new to DC as well #Don't worry buddy #Thank you so much #With the Champion of Magic there is so much to explore and unexplored magical story line potential #Billy batson #Shazam #dc captain marvel #i'm looking forward to reading your fic!

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remyfire · 1 year ago

Note

slightly afeared (affectionate) but punnihawk sex therapy? and/or the jock strap one. (also YOU are incredible. 💜)

wip title ask meme

Hello!! Thank you again for the tag :D I love this game.

Okay I was mean to Christina in the last one (because to be fair she was the one I exhaustedly typed the synopsis to right before passing the fuck out so she knows Everything) so I will tell you the inciting event of this silly PWP instead.

Sometimes a triad really enjoys roleplaying. That can take all kinds of different forms. But sometimes what it looks like for them is one adorable dynamo of a woman getting to grab her boyfriend and pretend that they are newlyweds who are struggling to seal the deal because they're both too nervous to finally go all the way after all this time of repressing their desires.

And do you know who can be extremely helpful with that? Her darling husban—I mean, a really lovely and skilled sex therapist whose methods are perhaps unorthodox, but never fear! As long as they're willing to open their minds to close observation, verbal guidance, and some thorough practical demonstration, they'll be on their way to a long and happy life positively filled to the brim with sexual intimacy before they know it!

#this is an excuse for bj to do his favorite thing which is be completely in control of a situation #and it lets hawkeye get to act in the hardest role of his entire life which is him not knowing how to sexually satisfy a woman #and peg just gets to be doted on and devoured like she deserves #thank you for reading this silly ask i am looking forward to letting them be ridiculous and over the top and very very needy #ask meme answers

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infinitelilith · 1 year ago

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where does the name infinite Lilith come from?

The "Lilith" part comes from the fact that my name is Lilith and the "Infinite" part comes from the fact that I will live forever and never die

#kind of a joke-answer but I'm not exactly lying either. There are some reasons for the “Infinite” part #but I can't really explain them without getting into some very pretentious personal philosophies #and I dont think anyone's really looking forward to that; myself included. i make the funny KH shitposts #do you really want to read my essay on utilitarianism (actually maybe you do...ask me about it another time if so)#ANYWAY what was the inspiration behind your name “Anonymous”? very curious. and whats with the profile pic? could use some colour imo #thanks for the ask #and to be completely honest with you: I also kind of picked it because I thought it sounded cool #i wanted an edgy and mysterious word next to my name and InfiniteLilith was very fun to say. I think it flows well

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allylikethecat · 9 months ago

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Chapters: 1/4 Fandom: The 1975 (Band) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: George Daniel/Matthew Healy Characters: Matthew Healy, George Daniel, Adam Hann, Ross Macdonald, Denise Welch Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Birthday Series: Part 5 of The Infection 'Verse Summary:

He never thought that was a milestone he would reach, he never thought that he would live past twenty seven. He was a tortured artist, a heroin addict, it had all but been accepted, it had all but been decided that he would be joining the twenty seven club. He would be laid to rest well before his twenty eighth birthday. He wondered how many more birthdays he would have, and he wondered if they were all going to hurt this much.

AKA The Birthday Fic™️

#allylikethecat #Now We're Clean #The Birthday Fic #The infection verse #the infection fic verse #the infection verse fic #infection verse #infection fic verse #infection verse fic #surprise happy birthday matty #low key the other reason the all the king's horses chapter was late #and also the reason ive sucked at answering asks the last few days #also remember when i was all sad about not know when we were going to revisit this little verse?#i was lying lol #happy monday and happy birthday #the big thirty five woot woot #thank you for reading #i look forward to hearing your thoughts!#oh!! this is in fact also that mysterious secret four thing lol

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permanentreverie · 2 years ago

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I've been wanting to try Ocean Vuong for a while- would you recommend him? Of the works you've read of his which was your favorite??? I love seeing updates to your reading list!

Ahhh thank you!!! I've actually have only read two of Ocean Vuong's works so far - night sky with exit wounds and on earth we're briefly gorgeous, I'm planning to read his other works in the next little bit and will definitely get back to you!

I would recommend Ocean Vuong, but I wouldn't say that he's for the faint of heart. I've read books that are more disturbing, but Ocean's writing of his life is very raw and intimate, like there were times where I felt I was intruding and it felt wrong that I was witnessing his memories.

Nonetheless, I do love writers that evoke visceral reactions in me, and Ocean Vuong definitely does that. I would suggest reading on earth we're briefly gorgeous first, as it's novel format provides depth and history for his poems. While his poetry in night sky with exit wounds is very pretty, I did find it a baffling read and hard to decipher the meaning behind the prose and imagery, at the end of it I was left bewildered and wildly shaken.

#I'm actually hoping to read his first couple books - burning and no - tomorrow #they're like 40 pages each so a very quick read #but yeah I'm actually hoping to read all of his books in the next couple days! so look forward to my summaries on my reading list #I also have goodreads if you or anyone else were interested #also thank you???? someone liking my reading list??? skdjsbdb it's just a silly little thing thank you 🥺#answered asks

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dollfacefantasy · 5 months ago

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I WANNA BE YOURS ♡

pairing: logan howlett x puppy-hybrid!fem!reader

summary: logan finds you, a special kind of mutant, out on a mission. when he takes in this puppy girl, you quickly forms a bond to him. he tries to tell himself he doesn't like his new shadow or want the attention, but it gets harder to deny as the two of you grow closer.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), hybrids, breeding kink, praise kink, dumbification, fluff, canon-typical violence, blood, nightmares

a/n: thank you so much to @gor3-hound and @nexysworld for beta reading <33

Adamantium strains against the skin between Logan's knuckles as his fists collide with his opponents' bodies. His claws beg to come out, to slice through his own skin and into the men he's striking. Despite causing himself pain, it would make this little struggle easier.

Regardless, he reigns in the urge and continues to fight without them. He didn't need them yet. Having a skeleton of impenetrable metal served as the only weapon he needed for right now. These guys taking him on weren't anything special, simple lackeys hired to protect a facility they didn't even understand the operation of.

His unpierced knuckles land a few strikes to one's abdomen, and he pops the other's face with his elbow. He whips his forearm around and slams the first to the ground in a finishing blow. The other man comes crashing down close behind after he connects his fist with the center of his face.

He looks at both of them crumpled up and unconscious on the ground, shaking off the adrenaline from the scuffle with a few rolls of his shoulders. He swipes the set of keys that hang off the belt of one who went down first and reconvenes with the rest of the team at the point of entrance to the next part of this warehouse.

"Did you find a way to open the doors?" Storm asks him. The white-haired woman struts beside him to the large cement doors at the end of the hallway.

Logan holds up the set of metallic keys, giving them a little jingle as his answer.

"Wow, and without shedding any blood. Impressive," Cyclops mocks from behind. Him and Jean walk a couple paces to the back of him, their eyes scanning for any potential hindrances to the mission.

"Night's not over yet, bub."

The four of them reach the door, and fortunately, it only takes a few tests to determine which key is meant for this lock. Before either Logan or Storm can push the barrier open, the door swings back under the force of Jean's telepathy.

They head inside but brace themselves for what they might see. This mission came about after the professor discovered that this building was being used as some kind of location to traffic mutants. The team had dealt with cases like this before, and they were never pretty. Often, the victims were young and struggling, picked up off the street or gathered from false mutant shelters to be sold into a life of experimentation or fetishization.

Upon first glance, this section of the building holds nothing new. The room isn't large in comparison to the others before it and looks more like a connector between the last hallway and another one. It's dark, not much light to get a good look at anything that could be hiding away.

Storm is eager to keep moving along and guides them towards the entrance to the next hallway. His other two teammates overtake him as well and follow behind her.

"I'm gonna sniff around here for a minute. I'll be right behind you," Logan says and waves them forward.

The two women spare him a skeptic glance, but Scott couldn't be more eager to part from him. They head off in the other direction, leaving Logan alone in the quiet between these four walls.

He just wanted to be sure there was nothing here, whether it be something he could help or something meaning to do them harm. Though he kind of hoped it was the latter. He never felt very good at the 'saving' part of being on this team. Let him go in a room full of threats, and he was guaranteed to be successful. He'd take every last one down in record time and not even have to think twice about it. But give him one person to comfort and tell that everything is gonna be ok, and that would have him breaking a sweat. It's not that he couldn't do it; he simply had to work at it. He didn't have to work at being a weapon.

Treading over the pavement cautiously, Logan's eyes sweep over the few vacant shelves and lonely crates. The room truly seemed unoccupied. He could probably only justify a few more feet before having to go join the rest of the team. But then he sees it.

A cage towards the back of the room, a tarp over the top. It sat near a smaller door he hadn't noticed before. He wasn't too concerned with going in just yet. First he wanted to see if anything was confined behind those thin black bars.

It was larger than a simple pet kennel but too small to give the impression that held anything monstrous. He walks closer to it. No sound came from it nor could he see any movement, but his curiosity had been triggered. He had to know why this thing had been secluded.

Once he's close enough, he crouches down and pushes away the rough white material draped over it. His fingers undo the latch and open the door so he could get a better look inside.

He peers in and is met with a pair of eyes staring back at him out of the darkness. His first instinct is to back up and get into a defensive position, but whatever's inside doesn't give him the chance.

You lunge at him and knock him flat onto his back.

He hits the cement with a grunt, and his claws cry out to him again. He could easily unsheathe them and tear whatever you were to shreds. But before he does this, he realizes that this isn't an attack. He's not in any kind of pain. In fact, nothing is really happening to him. All you were doing was... sniffing him?

He could hear your rapid inhales and exhales as your nose trailed along the collar of his white tank top. Straining his neck back as much as he can, he finally gets a good look at you. You were human - smaller than most with wide, curious eyes - but you also had floppy ears erupting from your scalp and a long tail coming from your backside that was whipping back and forth.

Even with all the different kinds of mutants he'd seen, he couldn't help thinking this was bizarre at first glance. He knew it was possible for mutations to express physically even though most were internal. For god's sake he had literal claws and knew multiple people who were straight up blue. But he'd never seen anything like this.

You looked like just a mix of canine and human. In honesty, you were pretty cute. You didn't look like the type of thing someone would shout 'freak' at from across the street. Hybrid was probably a more accurate descriptor than mutant. Either way, he didn't want you on top of him.

"Quit it," he growls before grabbing your waist and pushing you off. Based on the fact that you weren't attacking, he assumes you're a victim rather than a perpetrator. He rises to his feet to stand above you, ready to fight just in case. "What the hell are you supposed to be?"

You sit there, tail still wagging despite his rough temperament. Your eyes have that gleam that likens your appearance to a puppy even more than your ears or tail do. He realizes you might not be able to talk or something, but he doesn't get too far with that thought before you speak.

"A mutant. Like you."

His eyes narrow.

"Yeah? How do you know I'm a mutant?" he asks. He hadn't shown you his claws and you hadn't seen his skin magically stitch itself back together. Maybe you were on the other side of this mission.

"I can smell it," you answer.

That makes his eyebrow slowly raise. "Smell it?" he says.

You nod. "Mutants smell different than humans," you say.

You rise to your feet and stand next to him. Leaning in again, you smell his arm. Your head moves down his bicep and to his elbow and forearm. He pulls his limb away with a scowl, but you'd already had a chance to register the scent that'd caught your attention.

"You smell metallic too," you say.

So your canine traits weren't just physical. Logan knew you weren't lying, having an enhanced olfaction himself. He'd just never met someone else who also had that ability.

"Your mutation is basically just being an overgrown dog then?" he asks with a bemused expression, "You like playing fetch? Want me to call you a good girl?"

You can't help the automatic twitch in your tail when you hear that phrase, but your expression darkens as if a storm cloud had formed inches above those folded ears.

"I'm not a dog. If I'm a dog, are you like a robot since you have metal in you?" you huff and cross your arms.

A sharp puff of air comes from his nostrils at your attempted retort. "Robot isn't exactly what they call me."

You grumble and roll your eyes. Your tail had gone still behind you and hung between your legs.

He continues to stare down at you, trying to decide what to do next. Even though you were a mutant, you didn't seem to be a fighter or have any skills that would be useful in combat. He wasn't just going to leave you here, but he didn't know how big a risk it would be to let you tag along.

"What are you doing here? Did someone lock you in that cage, or is that just where you spend your free time?" he asks.

"Someone took me and locked me in there," you say, your pout deepening.

"For how long?"

You shrug. Logan has the urge to roll his eyes just as you did, but he can tell your lack of knowledge is genuine.

"You don't know how long you were in there?" he prompts.

"No. Maybe like... a couple weeks or something. I don't know. It's hard to keep track."

Of course. Just like a puppy, you had a poor concept of time. He shakes his head and rubs his hand over his face. It did look like you'd been captive for a few weeks. You weren't in the best shape and had bruises littering your body. Your clothes were dirty and torn at the hems. As annoying as he found you in the few minutes he'd known you, he knew you didn't deserve this treatment. Locking a cute little thing like you in a cage was plain cruelty.

"Alright. Well what's your name? I'm Logan," he sighs.

You tell him, but just as the last syllable leaves your lips, footsteps burst into the room from the direction of the hallway.

Scott and Jean round the corner, clearly looking for their teammate. Logan turns around to see the new arrivals and relaxes when he recognizes the man in the visor and the redhead beside him.

"There you are. We thought you took off or something," Scott mocks casually.

He opens his mouth to respond, but the words dissolve when he feels a thud against his back.

You don’t recognize the people who'd just shown up, so you hide yourself behind the man who found you. Pressing yourself against his back, you cautiously tilt your head to his side to peek at Scott and Jean. Your fingers clutch the fabric of Logan's tank top so tight they threaten to poke little holes in the ribbed material.

"What- what are you doing?" he grunts and tries to look over his shoulder at you. The way you were latched onto him prevented him from turning around fully. He lifts one of his arms to see your eyes scoping out the potential danger in front of him.

"Get- C'mon get off. They're not gonna hurt you," he continues, brushing you off by reaching back and lightly tugging your hair.

You stumble to the side, and he manages to grab your shoulders and walk you in front of him. He holds you there, presenting you to Scott and Jean. The way your ears pin back to your head makes him feel a little guilty about making you confront the strangers so directly, but they weren't gonna do anything to you. Assuming they were gonna rescue you and take you back to Xavier's, you'd have to get used to prying eyes and meeting new people.

Both Scott and Jean look at you curiously, Jean with less confusion than Scott. Clearly, he had a similar thought process to Logan while the woman next to him could sense that you were a mutant and what your abilities were.

"I found her in that cage back there," he explains.

The two of them nod. They take a few more moments to simply observe you before they move closer and ask for your name. You give it just like you had to Logan. They nod again and then begin running through a similar routine of questions. Theirs are more detailed though and manage to coax more information out of you.

Your responses give them a quick little rundown of you. You fit the profile of the people they usually found on these missions. You're young, early 20s, struggling because getting a job was nearly impossible with your ears and tail. You had no family. They'd given you up after your mutation began to manifest. Everyone thinks puppies are cute, but apparently, no one wanted a human child that shared features with them. You'd been taken from the shelter you were staying at like most others who found themselves in this situation.

As you answer each one posed to you, Logan feels you subtly sinking back against him. Your back meets his abdomen like two magnets slowly being pulled together. Despite the annoyed look on his face, he doesn't say anything or pull away.

When the brief interrogation comes to a close, Scott relays to Logan that they had found other victims in another part of the facility. Storm was with them now, guiding them to the extraction point where they'd be taken to safety. The four of you just had to follow along.

Scott and Jean lead the way. Logan follows behind and you trot along beside him. He notices you're staying close to him in particular.

"Did the guys who took you say anything else about why they wanted you?" he asks. The fact that you were kept separate was still lingering in his mind. To him it didn't mean anything good.

You shrug and look up at him. "They didn't really talk to me that much unless they were being mean or spitting at me. Or kicking the cage," you say.

You say it like it's casual, but he can tell it hurts. He knows how it feels to an extent. All mutants do. Not many people will openly talk shit about a guy with metal claws, but the sentiment is still there. The idea that you're inferior. That something is wrong with you. That you don't belong in this life.

He just nods, not knowing much else to offer as comfort. "Did you ever overhear them talking about you? Any reason they wouldn't have put you with the others?"

"I think they wanted to figure out if there was more of me. Or if they could make anymore at least," you say after taking a moment to think, "Cause you know. Guys like the whole puppy thing. Makes me worth more I guess."

He cringes at the ugly picture you paint with those words.

The group of you continues walking, footsteps being the only sound in the hallway. Your tail had started wagging again which makes him feel a little better about not offering anything in terms of reassurance. But when you reach the room where the other victims had been, your tail comes to a halt and droops between your legs.

A party of men is spread throughout the area. They walk around scanning the now empty space, visibly incensed at their captives being freed. You slide yourself against Logan's back again, but you don't try to peek at them like you did with Scott and Jean. It doesn't take much to figure out that these are the ones who kept you in that cage.

They hear the team and you approaching and turn to face you. Despite your efforts to hide, they spot you before you're completely concealed behind the bulk of Logan's muscular frame. The one closest scowls at your attempt.

"I'm guessing the three of you know what happened to the things we had in here?" he says, sarcasm lacing each word.

"You could say that. And those people are long gone by now, so it's probably best you move on," Scott answers. His fingers rise to his temple in preparation to operate his visor.

The men don't seem to be threatened. The amalgamation of them tightens, forming a more crowded cluster.

"Yeah, you're probably right. But you're not leaving with that one," the same one says and gestures to you hiding, "She stays here."

"Not gonna happen, bub," Logan responds so quickly it surprises even himself.

His teammates also look interested in his seeming budding attachment to you, but they know better than to squabble in front of adversaries.

You are the only one the words don't strike in any sort of way, but that's because you didn't totally hear them. You're too busy trembling, hoping with everything you had that Logan wouldn't force you in front of him again and then kick you into the group of guys.

But obviously, that doesn't happen. There's more arguing that you don't hear because you choose to tune it out. You can sense Logan becoming more agitated and the air around everyone becoming more tense. Your body grows more rigid, your ears glued back to your scalp. You just want this to be over.

As these thoughts whirl through your mind, the arguing comes to a head, and Logan launches away from you. You feel naked without his large body shielding yours.

Scott and Jean aid him. Your first inclination is to turn the other direction and just try to stay out of the way. You weren't confident in your combat skills. If you could seriously fight, you probably wouldn't have gotten snatched up. You didn't want to be the reason any of these people who were trying to help you got hurt.

But then you see someone coming up behind Logan brandishing a knife. It's out of your control, the way your muscles go taut and your lip curls back. You'd only ever been in a real fight once before in your life, and you don't remember feeling this vicious. You spring up behind the man, finding where his shoulder meets his neck and biting down hard.

The cries of agony and grunts of anger seem to go on forever. The smell of blood invades your nostrils as you deal with your target. He'd fallen to the floor when your teeth sunk into his flesh. You feel him thrashing underneath you as you rip and tear, but you don't stop until he's gone still. You then pull off and wipe your mouth, twisting around to sit on the abdomen of your incapacitated enemy.

Logan also had no difficulty dealing with the men coming at him. There were just more of them, so he took a little longer. After one last thud of a body crumpling to the floor, only heavy breathing sounds through the warehouse.

Jean and Scott seem fine. They stand there checking each other over, and you see them share a brief kiss. You glance over towards Logan next and decide to return to his side.

He's alone. The sounds of panting are mostly coming from him. His body glistens, muscles lightly coated in perspiration. His scent is stronger to you now, and it only grows more overwhelming as you approach him. Men lie at his feet with pools of blood around them, presumably the same crimson liquid that stains his hands, wrists, and forearms in streaks.

You make your next move without thinking. Coming up to his side, trying in vain to avoid getting your ratty socks soaked with blood, you press your cheek against his bicep and snake your arms around his.

He then looks down at you. His eyebrows raise at the blood that coats your mouth and chin and trails down your shirt. You hadn't seemed like any type of predator before. Your presence was more akin to a puppy that'd be torn apart by wolves than anything that could do anyone harm.

"How'd you do that?" he asks.

Your finger rises and hooks under your upper lip, pulling it back to reveal your canines, sharper than a normal person's.

He nods and watches you with some mixture of curiosity, irritation, and fondness.

"Pretty good," he says simply.

You beam at the praise, blood-stained lips parting into a wide smile. He feels your tail wag harder and brush against the back of his leg.

The touch is nice. It makes him more conscious of the way you're still holding onto him, your hand curled around his muscle and your hip against his. He's not sure what it is. A silent thank you, a note of understanding, or a pledge of loyalty.

But he doesn't need a thank you, someone to understand him or devote themself to him. He's just doing what he's supposed to.

He slides his arm out of your clutches and gently pats you on the head.

"C'mon, let's get going," he says and starts walking towards the exit.

You trot wordlessly behind him, which he's grateful for. But more than that, he's just happy Scott didn't have anything to say about your sudden bond to him.

Once the jet picked you up from the extraction point, the trip back to the school was a breeze. You mostly keep to yourself while trying to stick close to Logan. He sits you next to him and cleans up your face, but you sleep for most of the actual traveling time to the destination.

You hadn't realized how tired you were until the seat hit your back and the buckles of the seat belt latched over your chest. With that manifestation of security, your eyes began drooping and your head was drifting to your shoulder like it was your center of gravity.

Logan's voice is what wakes you up. It's unclear to you how much time has passed, but that doesn't bother you. You feel him gently jostling you before unbuckling the straps across your chest. He calls your name a few times until your bleary eyes open and focus on his face.

"There you are," he says, "C'mon. We're here."

You still watch him without saying a word. Your hand rubs over your face to try and pull yourself closer to being awake. He watches you before offering his hand.

"I'm not carrying you, so you need to get up," he says in a tone you were becoming familiar with. It sounded irritated but not directly at you. Like this man was just in a constant state of being pissy about something.

You take the offer regardless and let him pull you to your feet. The two of you exit the jet together, him helping you out to ensure you don't trip on the gap between the ramp and the ground.

Once you're out, your eyes widen. You expected a boarding school to be pretty fancy, but this was nicer than any place you'd ever been. The walls stretched up the sky, crafted with bricks and decorated with large glass windows. The path there was paved and bordered with kept plants. You could see beyond that though. The large expanse of the property. So much space to run and do things.

Logan watches your reaction with amusement. "It's a lot to take in when you first get here," he says.

You nod, and your eyes continue to dart around and absorb the sight of everything. Storm and Jean lead the others who were saved off to another part of the building to be reunited with their families or taken back to their lives or even given verifiable resources. But you don't want to go with them.

You grab Logan's hand and look up at him, shaking your head.

His first reaction is to try and pull his hand free of you, but you have a tighter grip than expected. "What? What's the matter?" he asks you while still trying worm his hand out of your finger's lock.

You don't know how to articulate it because what you want is very simple. You want to stay with him. You want to stay here. You don't want to go back out to the world where people point and laugh at you or turn you away from everything. You just don't know how to say that without it seeming weird.

Luckily for you, Scott gives you a bit of help. You're not sure if that's his intention or not, but either way, you're grateful for the help.

"Maybe we should take her to the Professor. He might want to see about her mutation or ask her about that stuff back there," he tells Logan. You can tell from the way Scott speaks that he doesn't really like him too much.

Logan thinks about it for a moment before nodding. Before leading you there, he uses his other hand to pry your fingers off of him. You frown at the loss of connection and shoot him a glare. That brings an actual smile to his face.

"Follow along, pup. Don't need you getting lost," he says as he turns to guide you down the halls of the school.

The sun hadn't even risen, so not too many people occupied the common rooms. You catch sight of a few. They stare back at you, but unlike what you're used to, they don't look at you with disdain or mocking. It's simple, innocent curiosity. The only thing that seems to worry them is the bright red stain going down the front of your shirt.

Inside the room had been an older guy in a wheelchair. The professor talked the nicest out of all the men you'd been around today. When he looked at you, you felt like he understood you. He didn't even seem perplexed like Scott or Logan had. He'd merely said you were "interesting."

He talked to you for a while. He asked similar questions similar to the ones you already answered, but the third round of them got even deeper than the last two. Once he revealed that he could enter your thoughts if he wanted, that made a lot of sense.

Though he didn't really need his ability to understand you. Your experiences were written all over your face, practically sewn into the seams of your clothes.

He could see how, like every mutant, you led a life dominated by rejection. But in a different way than most others of your kind, you were vaguely familiar. Seeing someone with a tongue ten feet long or with blue skin or claws was jarring. It was weird.

But you - you look like a cute puppy. You walk the line between disturbing and endearing.

Charles can also see how you long for belonging even deeper than most. It's as if your mutation gives you the drive to seek out affection, for someone to devote yourself to. He can tell this by the way you linger around Logan.

If he moved an inch, you followed in the same direction. If he looked away, your eyes followed along. You were only settled if he was looking at you, not in danger of leaving your vicinity.

After talking to you for a while, hearing about your abilities and getting to understand your personality, he offers to let you stay at the school. He tells you it might be beneficial for you, and if you don't like it, you're welcome to leave anytime. It's only meant to give you a chance to understand your gifts and learn to control them and use them for good.

Of course, you accept. It wasn't even a question.

"Wonderful. Scott, show her to the extra rooms she can stay in and the shower so she can clean up a bit," Charles says. He watches as your eyes flit to Logan and then Scott. He also sees Scott's uncertainty as to why he was given this job.

But he nods and gestures for you to follow him, which you reluctantly do.

You trail him silently up the stairs, and he gives you a little guide to where everything is. He gestures at the direction of the student wing and the staff wing and then takes you to the latter. He points out the different bedrooms and grabs you a change of clothes on the way to the bathrooms.

He's nice to you. A little stiff, but he still smiles and laughs softly at quips he makes or your skeptical reactions to things. You want to ask him about his sunglasses, but you figure that'd be rude so you refrain. When he leaves you at the bathroom door, he tells you to just call if you need anything cause he's right down the hall.

Stepping inside, you peer around the expansive room. You'd never seen a bathroom so large. It was nice like everything else was in this place. The counter was spotless and smooth. The tile was sleek with a soft mat beneath your feet at the door and waiting for you in front of the shower.

You undress yourself quickly and turn on the water, waiting for it to heat before stepping inside. There's some products on the shelf inside that you use. You lather the soap on your hands and rub it over yourself fast. It felt really good, especially since you hadn't had a proper shower while being held captive. But you still work at a sped up pace. Although the novelty of everything had impressed you at first, you were beginning to yearn to be by Logan again. It wasn't a need that would make you lose control, just a little itch like a bug crawling up the path of your veins.

Downstairs, Charles kept Logan behind in his office so the two could talk. They briefly recap the mission before moving to the subject that was the true reason for the extended conversation.

"It seems she's quite taken with you," the older man starts simply.

"I guess," Logan responds, his voice unamused with the idea.

Charles huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He goes to say something else, but the other man carries on the conversation himself.

"She'll get over it. She's like a little duck following around the first person she sees," he says and crosses his arms.

"I think you underestimate her intelligence, Logan. She's not a helpless animal-"

"I know that," he interjects quickly.

"She's one of us. She's formed an attachment to you for whatever reason. I would like her to stay here for at least for a little while to examine the traits of her mutation. I've never seen any that so closely mimic an already existing animal," he explains, "But I want to know that you're ok with that."

Logan scoffs. "Why wouldn't I be? That doesn't have anything to do with me."

"While she's here, she's most likely going to want to be around you. I just wanted to make sure that's not something you're wholly uncomfortable with."

"Please. I can handle it," he dismisses.

Charles watches him, ever-entertained by how hard he tries to present the idea that he's unaffected.

"If you say so," he says, "Just try not to scare off too quickly."

"I'll play nice," he says.

A few more words, and he's dismissed. He turns on his heel and heads out the same doors he entered. Just as he does, you glide down the stairs into his field of vision, tail wagging lazily behind you over the waistband of the sweats Scott gave you.

When you see him, it swishes a bit faster and your ears perk up. His eyes narrow.

"What are you doing down here? Didn't Scott show you where to go?" he asks.

You nod and prance down the remaining steps. Truthfully, you'd been seeking the man before your eyes, but you couldn't just say that.

"Am I not allowed to look around?" you ask.

His eyes remain hard on your face. "Aren't you tired? Mauling that guy didn't take anything out of you?"

A subtle pout forms on your lips, and you consider retreating back to the bedroom you'd been given. He clearly wasn't in the mood for you right now.

Logan sees the reaction his words brought on. He feels that little sliver of guilt shifting around inside him. Maybe his phrasing hadn't been the best... but then again why did he give a shit?

"How about we just get you back to bed? I'll show you around more tomorrow," he suggests.

You take what you can get and nod, your features slightly elevating at the form of peace he offers you. He retraces your steps up the stairs and down the hall with you on his heels. He spots the room Scott had picked for you. The door was ajar from how you'd left it to go find him.

He leads you inside but remains in the doorway himself. There really wasn't any reason to stay, so he should probably be leaving...

"Have you been here a long time?" you ask suddenly.

His eyes land on you again. You were perched on the end of your bed that was still fully made up, the comforter tucked in and everything.

"What?" he asks.

"Have you been here long? Scott said he's been here since he was a teenager," you say.

"Oh. No. Only a little while," he says. "I'm still pretty new here too."

That makes you happy, it's obvious from the hope that gleams in your eyes. "Are you like a teacher too? Or... something else?"

"What would that something else be?" he asks with a smirk, taking a few steps into the room with you, "Having a hard time picturing me teaching?"

"Well I just mean-" you try to justify before laughing a little, giving in, "Yeah. I can't really see it."

"Me neither. I'm not a teacher. I just help out sometimes," he says.

He walks even closer to you, causing your head to tilt up to look at him. Now you really looked like a puppy.

This close, he was all you could smell. You could see every individual hair on his forearm. It felt as though you could hear the strong beat of his heart. His eyes pierced into you from above, and you wondered if he was observing you in a similar manner.

"You gonna sleep on top of these blankets?" he asks.

The mention of something else besides him snaps you out of your little Logan-centric daze. You look around at the bedding and then back up at his head. The two styled points of dark hair look like he has two ears of his own mirroring yours.

"No. I'll fix them," you say and stand up to tug them free, "I don't need you to tuck me in."

"I wasn't offering to. I just don't want you getting up and trying to 'look around' again. Don't need you getting lost and wandering to my bed."

The idea brings heat to your cheeks and neck. It sounded nice for so many reasons. But the bed you had now outmatched the hard bottom of the cage you'd been sleeping on, so you weren't going to try and swing for more.

Once the comforter and sheets are peeled down, you climb back on the bed and sit against the pillows. There's a small pause. A puddle of silence pooling between the two of you. You don't know what else to ask, but you feel if you don't say anything he's gonna leave. So you pull out the first thing you can think of.

"What is your actual mutation?"

His brows rise with interest, and he closes the gap between you by sitting on the edge of your bed. Curiosity shines from his eyes onto you, silently questioning why you wanted to know.

"I know you're not actually a robot, but I can still smell the metal and stuff. What does it do?" you ask.

"The metal isn't my mutation," he says.

He raises his fist about a foot away from your face. His fingers are balled up tight against his hand. You cock your head, wondering what he's showing you.

Before you can ask any questions though, three shining metal claws emerge from between his knuckles. They come out slowly, a pace prolonged enough to be considered teasing. Your eyes widen at the sharp points and you scoot back, smooshing the pillows against your head board. All you can wonder is if he didn't take them out earlier or if you really had missed something so monumental.

His laugh rises in volume. "Relax, I'm not gonna cut you."

The claws come to a halt when fully extended. You wait just in case something else is going to happen, but nothing does. You bring your finger up and poke at the hard surface. They were so beautiful but unnatural too. You'd never seen anything like them.

"But I didn't see anywhere for them to come out?" you say softly.

He flexes his hand and extends his fingers, retracting the claws much quicker than they appeared.

"There is no place for them to come out of," he says and offers you his hand.

You frown at the little cuts the sharp rods left in their wake, but like little zippers, they close up. You blink at his hand. All evidence of his mutation was gone.

"So you can heal? And you have claws?" you say more to yourself than him, "Does it still hurt when they come out?"

He nods and watches you examine his hand.

Upon seeing his confirmation, you can't even help what you do next. You pull his limb a little closer and kiss each spot where a claw had emerged. Every phantom cut gets a soft smooch left where it would soon reappear.

"What are you doing?" Logan asks, her arm tensing up on instinct.

You glance at his face before releasing his hand. "Oh... sorry," you say and shrug sheepishly.

To your surprise, he doesn't scold or chastise you, doesn't get up to leave in a hurry. He simply pulls his hand back and gives you another look before saying good night.

"Get some good sleep. Like I said, I'll show you around tomorrow," he says.

You slip down in the bed, resting your head on the plush pillows and pulling the blanket up over your form. He heads out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

A deep exhale leaves his lungs. He shakes some of that tension loose. What had he been doing? It almost felt like some different person had taken over him in there. Another version of himself that didn't have to be reminded to 'play nice.'

The few weeks you're supposed to stay at the school stretches out into a longer timeframe. It'd now been a few months since that day he found you in the cage and set you free. Though that month or so you'd spent locked up turned out to be worth it because you now had a place that made you happier than anywhere you'd lived before. You had a family.

You had Jean and Storm who were helping you train so you could one day go on missions with them. You had the Professor who taught you more about yourself than you had ever thought to ask. Scott was there too.

And of course, you had Logan.

Logan. As much as he tried to seem reluctant, to appear uncaring and nonchalant, he had grown to enjoy your company more with each passing day that you followed him like a shadow.

It was irritating at first. Before, he'd been able to drift through the school relatively unnoticed. Now, every single place he went, he was trailed by whoosh whoosh whoosh. The sound of your tail going back and forth. Anything he tried to do was accompanied by the feeling of two glimmering eyes trained on him. He'd tried to brush you off, but you didn't waver.

"Don't you have anything better to do than stalk me?" he'd ask, shooting a side eye your way.

"No," you'd respond.

"Well, find something."

"I don't wanna."

And who was he to argue with that?

In a way, the bond you seemed to have formed with him was flattering. It seemed like he could do anything, and you'd never view him as anything but the greatest creation to grace this earth. So he just lets you follow him around. He assumes after a while, you'll see him for what he is and lose interest, or you'll just grow bored of him and find something else to be the object of your obsession. Though so far that day hadn't come.

After a while of you always at his side, he started to cave and include you in his little routines.

One day he was doing sit ups at the foot of his bed while you sat nearby. His body rose and fell, abdomen kissing his thighs in regular intervals. But every time he came up, he found himself looking over at you.

"Hey, pup," he said, the nickname he developed for you coming out effortlessly, "C'mere for a second."

Your ears perked up. You weren't usually involved in what he was doing. You scoot over to him and kneel at his feet, awaiting a command. You could be so obedient sometimes it nearly made him feel guilty.

"You wanna help me with something?" he asked. As he expected, you nodded right away, so he continued, "Just hold my feet down. These only work if your feet stay flat. So just make sure they do."

You gave him another dutiful nod and got in position. Your hands held his feet down as he worked out just like he asked. Each time he came up off the ground, you looked at him with a big goofy smile.

That was just the first thing. From then on, the two of you actually did stuff together rather than just going about your things nearby one another. He'd help you train, and you'd help him clean Scott's bike when he finished using it.

Tonight, exhaustion aches in your bones after running around all day. On top of that, you'd had so much stuff to do yourself that you'd barely even seen Logan all day.

When the sun's finally down and the students have all retired to their bedrooms, you find him in the living room. He's leaned back into the couch, nursing a bottle of something. You assume it's not beer since you're at a school, but with how often he lamented about that limitation, you wouldn't put it past him to sneak one in.

You hop over the arm rest and curl up on the opposite side of the couch from him. He looks over at you, not displeased with your presence.

"There you are. I thought you finally got tired of me and found someone else to bother," he teases.

"I could never do that," you reply with the same playful cadence. You scoot a little closer. "I was just super busy today. The Professor was having me talk to some of the students, and then Scott needed me to grab something for him from the shed. It was really hard to find, so it took a while. Then I had to do my own training, and Jean made me try on some sizes for my suit..."

As you chatter on about your day, Logan finds himself nodding along, even occasionally reacting to what you say. He's not rolling his eyes or telling you to leave him alone. It's weird, but he can't say he wants to feel differently.

"Sounds like they're working you like a dog," he says when your story has reached an end.

Your face darkens like it had on the day he met you, shooting him a quick glare as a reminder not to say the forbidden d-word.

"Right, sorry," he corrects, "It just sounds like they're running you ragged. Don't let 'em work you too hard. Scott can get his own shit."

He still didn't understand your hang up about that word. He could call you pup, puppy, or any variation of that, and you'd react with nothing but joy. But utter d-o-g in your vicinity, and he felt like he was at risk of getting his throat chomped on. Luckily, it only takes his small apology for your normal demeanor to make its return.

"It's ok. I don't mind helping. I like having stuff to do," you say and shrug.

"I thought your 'stuff to do' was watching over me," he jokes and leans forward, placing his bottle down on the table.

You're not sure why, but you take that as an invitation to scoot even closer to him.

"I thought you wanted me to find better stuff to do."

"Fair," he chuckles, "Maybe this is one of those things where I'm not gonna realize I miss something until it's gone."

He brings his hand up from the back of the couch to massage the base of one of your ears. The soft fluff feels almost luxurious against the rough pads of his finger tips. He knew you loved the sensation. It had been an accidental discovery, something he did one time as a joke. But the way you melted into the touch had been more than just funny to him.

You lean into it now and nuzzle his palm.

"It was just one day. It's not like a permanent new routine."

"For now. Then soon enough, I'm gonna catch you trailing somebody else with hearts in your eyes," he says and gently tugs your ear.

You laugh at the tug and the stupid words. "You will not. Plus, I don't have hearts in my eyes for you."

"Oh really?" he teases. He leans in, his face hovering a couple inches away from yours. "I think I can see some now."

The two of you stay locked in a stare for a few lingering seconds. He'd never been this close to you before. You'd never heard his voice lower in that way, sounding almost desiring. Heat starts to crawl up from your belly through your chest to your neck. Before it can reach your cheeks, you turn your head to face the tv.

"Shut up," you huff, choosing to play the interaction off as a joke.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see his grin. He chuckles and his arm returns to its place behind you, above your shoulders. Quiet blooms between the two of you, kept from being total silence only by the hushed noises of the tv set across the room. It doesn't feel awkward though even with the sudden shyness he'd brought over you.

You angle yourself and lean in so that you're sitting against his side. No words come from him, he simply lowers his arm to sling around your shoulders and keep you there. His thumb idly pets back and forth over the smooth skin of your forearm.

The heat of his body radiates from his side and into you. Makes you feel safe and comfortable. Like you're where you're supposed to be. It's easy to sink into him further and tilt your head to rest on his chest. Before long, your eyes feel a little droopy. Blinking feels sticky, and your mind just wants to retreat to the soft embrace of sleep.

Logan can tell. He's not sure of the feeling this knowledge brings him. Pride? Contentment? Affection? Instead of thinking about it harder, he just pulls you a little closer and lets you drift off. He considers saying something, letting you know he doesn't mind and that you don't have to try and stay up. But nothing comes from him and the quiet continues.

He watches you slowly slip away. Your neck loses the wherewithal to stay upright, and your breaths soften, blowing in and out in a thoughtless rhythm.

The feeling that flows through him takes him by surprise. Pure endearment towards you, not a hint of anything else. He lets you sleep there for the next hour or so. When you're still out cold after that time has passed, he's unsure of his next move. He doesn't want to wake you and shatter the peace that had settled over the room, but he had to head to bed himself and wasn't going to leave you stranded on the couch in the common room.

The light of the tv glows across the two of you as he mulls over his options. When he finally decides, he grabs the remote and shuts the device off, cloaking the room in darkness, spare the distant blinking lights that could be seen through the windows. He rises from the cushions that had molded to cradle his weight, making sure to keep a hand on you to prevent you from slumping over.

This time he doesn't shake you or offer a hand. He reaches around and tucks an arm under your legs. His other supports you across your shoulder blades as he lifts you into his arms. He traverses the furniture with caution, making sure to avoid bumping into a stray corner or tripping on a catch in the rug. Then he moves up the stairs. Your limp body bounces with each step.

He nudges the door open to your bedroom and takes you inside. Your scent seemed to fill the entire room. Every time he took a breath, he got a lungful of the heady smell. Your bedroom was so you now. The way you'd decorated it and splashed your personality over every inch, it'd be hard to believe that just a few months ago it had been so sparse.

What had been a blank bed, covered only by a plain duvet and thin pillows, now held your extra fluffy cushions, a nest of blankets, and your steadily-growing collection of plushies. Trinkets lined your shelves and tables, and you even displayed a few posters over the walls. It was you, all around him.

He walks the few paces to the edge of the mattress before laying your body down on the foamy surface. He drapes a nearby blanket over your form. Even though he's technically accomplished what he meant to, he doesn't leave yet. He lingers like he can't seem to help doing around you.

You're still fast asleep, unaware of the change in locations. He watches a haphazard swallow move through your throat before you settle into the familiar setting.

He finds himself not wanting to go back to his room. He'd been at the school longer than you and never made his own so nice. Really, he didn't think he could make it as nice. But that was just because nothing about him was as nice as you.

When the resolve to leave finally surfaces in him, he reaches out and rubs the base of your ear.

"See you in the morning," he murmurs. Unlike before, the rest of what he wants to say doesn't get tangled up in his throat. "My little puppy girl."

That night won't leave your head for the next week. It almost feels like a dream. You'd woken up in your bed the next morning, assuming that's what it was. The undeniable change in location was the only thing that made your mind accept it as reality.

In the following days, things stayed the same for the most part, though you would have sworn, Logan acted a little less grumpy around you. Only by a microscopic degree, but enough for you to note the shift.

Nothing that big happens though. You don't even repeat the cuddling incident again. You kind of just assume that it was a one time thing. A nice experience, but not one to be repeated.

The memory of it floats through your mind often though. The pulse of his heart beating against your cheek, how you could hear it in your ear clear as day. Your stomach flutters at the thought of him actively pulling you closer, wanting you that close. You can feel your dedication to Logan blossoming into something more. It was already rooted so deep inside you that you didn't think it was possible, but you could feel it. The branches of reverence spreading in your chest and growing into something closer to adoration.

You could feel it now, sitting next to him on the bench in the school's spacious yard. He'd been tasked with watching some of the students for the afternoon, so of course, you tagged along. Shade speckled his face with alternating blotches of sunlight and gray. The stray beams of light made his eyes glow, and his hair shine all pretty. The sounds of the students practicing their abilities clouds the background of your focus, and they become even more distant when he suddenly turns to you.

"You're staring," he teases with that little smirk of his.

Your eyes flutter at the accusation. "No... I was not."

"Yeah you were. Even worse than usual."

"I just was thinking and zoned out," you defend, turning to face forward.

He hums in acknowledgement, obviously not believing your excuse. "Were you thinking about me?"

"You wish."

"I don't have to wish, puppy. You're not a very good liar."

You really weren't. Your tail swished with each beat of this little back and forth. Your ears pinned back to your head, folded over by the guilt of being caught. Everything you were feeling was made apparent by your supposed 'gifts.'

"Well whatever. Even if I was, it's none of your business," you say. A smile pulls at your lips. Your tells weren't solely from your mutation.

"If you say so," he taunts, one last jab before he returns his attention to the kids he was supposed to be supervising.

Nothing he said hinted at anything more than playful banter, but the way he spoke had them wrapped around your heart like unbreakable restraints. The way he said them made you feel like he wanted it this way. Wanted you to hear that smug cadence in your mind for the next few days. Maybe he found you entertaining. Maybe your emotions were a new game he discovered he liked to play with.

Hours later, you're curled up in your bed, by yourself as per usual. Everyone in the school had gone to bed, you and Logan had parted a while ago yourselves.

Sleep weighs you down to the mattress, but your ears perk up automatically when they register a distant sound of distress. It's faint. If it happened alone, you would've just assumed it was part of your dream and not done anything else. But more follow it.

Your eyes crack open, still glazed with drowsiness as you come to. You listen for the sounds that disturbed you. For a moment, there's nothing. Just the gentle breeze outside your room and the crickets chirping in the cut grass in the yard.

Then it happens again. A normal person wouldn't be able to hear these sounds. They were reserved for you with your enhanced senses. It sounds like grunting and groaning though you can pick up the pained undertone of fear. The worst part of it to you is that immediately you know it's coming from Logan.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, freeing them from the fleece warmth of your blankets. Padding out of the room, you cross the hall to his. You open the door in the specific way so that it doesn't creak and then shut it behind you. Your feet are gentle on the hardwood as they bring you closer to the source of the noise.

Once you're in, it's no mystery. Logan lays on his back in the center of his bed, shoulders twitching in agitation. He mumbles to himself, different words you can't make out. Your head cocks at the sight.

Approaching the side of his bed, you just watch him for a few more moments. When he doesn't wake up, you feel the urge to intervene. It felt wrong watching him suffer. Something pulled at your insides to help him.

You reach out and nudge his bicep. There's no effect. You do it a few more times but still nothing happens. Finally, you actually grip his shoulder and shake him gently, whispering into the darkness a simple "Logan."

That wakes him. No mistake about it. He gasps and snaps up. His claws come out from his hands without a second thought and slash at you. You hop back right away, tripping over your own feet and crashing onto the ground.

Your pulse thunders in your ears. The adrenaline coursing through you wasn't so much out of fear but rather confusion. Your mind was still a bit bogged by sleep itself, and at this moment, you're less concerned with Logan's reasoning and more so the logistics of a potential fight with him. Even though you had been training for the past several months, you had absolutely zero belief that you'd be able to beat him in a fight. Or even really compete for that matter.

Fortunately for you, it doesn't come to that. His eyes recognize you not long after his fists took the swing. You watch as his face morphs into a handful of different emotions in the span of about five seconds.

"I- what- how- I didn't-" he starts before getting a handle on his ability to speak, "I'm sorry."

Your body starts to come down from the brief high when it's clear he's not going to attack. You feel less wound up and let out a sigh. Your eyes remain inquisitive while gazing at him though. What did he dream about that made him freak out like that?

You guess it's not the best time to ask, so instead of pushing your luck, you push up off the ground and get your footing back. You step up to him at the edge of the bed and stand between his thighs. You plan on asking him if he's ok, but his arms reach out and yank you to his chest before you have the chance.

His hold is tight on you. The little half-hugs he'd given you a couple times before didn't compare at all. His arms were locked around you like they never intended to let go. You could hear him panting in your ear, and you could feel his heart thundering against both of your rib cages like it wanted to be released from its chamber.

"You're not hurt, are you?" he whispers.

You shake your head and wrap your arms around him too. The gesture relaxes him a lot, you can feel the tension seep away.

"Are you ok? I didn't mean to bother you, you just sounded like you needed help," you say at the same volume.

"You didn't bother me. I'm ok. I'm sorry. You don't have to worry about me like that."

His skin is warm and clammy against your own. You gently pat his back as some form of silent reassurance. Even if he wasn't as distraught as he had been a few minutes ago, you could tell the events that occurred were gnawing at him.

One of your hands drifts up, and you thread your fingers in his hair. It's like pulling a lever. He exhales deeply and pushes his face more against your neck.

"I'm sorry, pup," he murmurs.

You nuzzle the side of his head, and your heart nearly stops because he reciprocates this gesture with a few of the softest kisses you've ever felt, placed on your throat.

"I'd never hurt you on purpose. You know that."

You nod. Of course you knew that. And you would never say this to him out loud, but you felt so deeply for him, you weren't sure that your perception of him would have changed had his claws landed the strike on you.

Pulling back your head a little, you nudge his so you can see him. Both of your eyes connect for a moment before you lean in and kiss him. His lips are softer than you'd expected. His scent permeates your senses, but it's not one of booze or the brand of cigars he smokes. That's there, but your nostrils sense deeper. You could smell his essence. The way his blood runs hot as your tongue swipes into his mouth.

The kiss grows deeper. No words are said. Neither of you need them. Your fingers tighten on the dark locks of brown hair, and you climb into his lap. His hands land on your hips almost instantaneously. The only sounds between the two of you are sharp exhales and shallow inhales.

"What are you doing, bub?" he murmurs against your lips, breaking the silence. Despite his questions, he wasn't stopping you. Not at all. His fingers dig into your flesh and pull you a little closer.

"Wanna make you feel better. And show you that I know."

You weren't sure what you and Logan were after that night. Boyfriend-girlfriend, friends with benefits, or maybe simple companions. You didn't really care because regardless of the answer, you were happy.

Kissing was the only thing that transpired that night, but that was ok with you. It didn't dampen your outlook on your relationship with him in the slightest. You'd made out for a while, tangling up with each other and the sheets before he pulled back. He didn't want to go further when you both were coming down from all that emotion. And you agreed. You didn't need more. You felt elated from receiving that much affection in the first place. Your tail whacked against the mattress as you curled up to his side and put your head on his sternum to rest.

The next morning though, he had been ready for more. Once he fell back asleep, his dreams had been much more pleasant. He woke up stiff and aching for you, and you were more than happy to provide some relief.

You alleviated that throbbing between his legs multiple times that morning, and you'd been taking care of it at least once a day every day since then.

The team could tell something was going on between the two of you, a deeper bond than your initial affinity for Logan. You walked with a faster wag in your tail, and he seemed less jagged at the edges. Others were less likely to get cut now if they reached for him the wrong way.

Each of your steps also came with a small jingle now since Logan had given you his dog tags. You'd been lying against his side, basking in the afterglow of one of your escapades when he dangled the metal chain between the two of you.

"Want you to have these, pup," he rasped.

You'd looked at him with curiosity swimming in your eyes. Excitement mingled there too though.

He chuckled at the look before boosting your head so he could put them on you.

"I know my pretty puppy doesn't want to wear a collar for me yet," he teased, getting a pout out of you, "I just want you to have something of mine. You don't even have to wear 'em if you don't want to."

You'd worn them every moment since he gave them to you. Wouldn't take them off for anything. The physical representation of your attachment stayed secured around your neck at all times. The way it made you feel had you thinking a collar would be a pretty nice next step.

It'd been just over a month since you became something more with him. Your tail zips back and forth as you clean up the training room, thinking all of this over. A little smile rests on your features too. Jean helps out nearby, laughing gently at your mood.

"You have it bad," she teases.

Your head turns, and you grin, exposing those elongated canines. Shrugging, you prance over to help her finish the area she was tidying up.

When the two of you get everything back into shape, you head out into the sleek hallway back towards the main part of the mansion. Your shoes squeak against the tile as you bound towards the doors.

Entering the primary floor from the rooms below always brought a bit of adjustment for your eyes. The lights downstairs shone bright, fluorescent white. Coming back to the soft lamps of the common rooms had you blinking while your pupils scanned the room for Logan.

You catch sight of him standing near the two large doors that acted as entrance to the school. Right now, you can only see him from behind, but you spot Charles next to him. It looks like they're talking to someone, though the former's bulky frame prevents you from seeing who.

Your legs carry you over to the pair. You come up on the side of Logan that Charles doesn't occupy. Tucking yourself under his arm, you look up at him first before your eyes land on the other person speaking.

The sight of her makes your head tilt to the side just the slightest. Every feature on her embodies beauty. Her red hair, similar to Jean's in color, sits slicked back on her head. Deep blue coats every inch of her body. Seductive yellow eyes flit between the two men she's conversing with, and now that you had appeared, they cast to you as well.

You'd seen her before around the mansion once or twice, and you didn't really trust her. She didn't seem like a bad person, but she worked opposite the team. Even though Logan had assured you she was just offering some information about a common goal, you didn't feel confident that Mystique's motives were of such pure intent.

Still, you don't interrupt the in-progress discussion. You stay quietly pressed to Logan's side, tail coasting against the back of his leg. He doesn't wrap his arm around you as tight as normal or rub between your ears like he often did, but he gives you a little pat on the shoulder to acknowledge your presence.

Mystique finishes listening to Charles' point before directing her full attention to you.

"I knew you all wore uniforms, but you two didn't tell me your team had a little mascot too."

You bristle at the comment but try to remain composed. You were better than a thoughtless animal that snapped at a little poke. Charles hadn't even noticed your presence. He looks over at you and realizes what Mystique's quip referred to. He introduces you briefly.

"She's new to the team and is still training, but she's not a mascot," he concludes.

"So more like a stray then? Cute. I never would have guessed you wanted a pet," she says to Logan.

Tension creeps up your spine, and you stand up straight, pulling away from Logan's side.

"I'm not his pet," you huff and look at her. Your pouty way of asserting yourself probably didn't do much to project the image of independence you wanted. "I'm-"

You go to continue, but she cuts you off.

"You really should teach your dog not to bark, Logan. It's not polite."

That sparks a small growl in your throat before you can shut it down. Her eyes widen in amusement which only makes it feel worse for you. The most humiliating part is that you know all of this is inauthentic. She's doing it for the purpose of riling you up, getting you upset and making you feel bad. You know this, but your reaction gets the better of you.

Before you can do anything regrettable, Logan's hand curls over your shoulder. He keeps you rooted where you stand, quelling the flames of conflict before they have a chance to spread.

"Back off," he says, quick and curt with Mystique. He turns to Charles next, still keeping his voice firm. "You don't need me to hear the rest of this. I think I'll let you wrap it up."

Charles nods, knowing it would be better for him to focus on removing you from the potentially volatile situation instead of being another observer for some intel.

Logan guides you away from them, hand moving from your shoulder to the back of your neck as he takes you upstairs. The anger inside you melts away with the growing distance between you and Mystique. Only the stain of embarrassment remained.

"I'm sorry," you say. Your words sound compressed, the weight of your shame hanging off them.

"Don't be. You didn't do anything wrong. She wanted you to get upset, so that's what she got."

The pair of you move through the rest of the hall without another word. You go into your room. Once the door is shut and it's just the two of you between the four walls, you stomp over to the bed and flop down onto the mattress.

Darkness clouds your vision while your face rests against the blankets. Your tail rests against your thigh limply. You hear him coming over and then feel his hand rubbing your leg near the lifeless appendage. The mattress dips as he sits next to you.

"C'mon. You're ok."

You shuffle around so your head is resting in his lap. "I looked pathetic."

He sighs. One of his hands rubs your back while the other pets your head. "You did not."

"Yeah I did."

"No. You didn't," he says, "You didn't do anything that bad. No one's gonna think less of you cause you got a little mad about someone talking shit to you."

You know he's right. Everyone here had an experience like that. It's how most of them ended up here, reacting even worse than you had. It still doesn't make you feel any less dumb. A deep exhale seeps from your lungs.

"I just don't understand why everyone looks at me like that. We all get it bad enough from humans, but then some of the others look down on me too. I'm the same as all of you. I don't say Mystique looks like a smurf cause she's blue, so I don't see why I have to get called a pet," you huff.

He smiles a little and scratches your ear, letting you vent.

"Even you guys looked at me different at first. I know you did. I'm not the only mutant with physical stuff. Why does it have to be a whole thing with me?"

"You're just a little different, bub. You confuse people, but it's not your fault. Nothing about you is less than any other mutant. Mystique doesn't even think that. She was trying to get under your skin."

"Yeah..." you say with a little dejection in your tone, "I still just wish people would treat me like normal. Or at least normal for a mutant."

"I know you do, baby," he hums and pats your arm.

By this point, you're far enough away from the harshness of what happened downstairs. You sit up and scoot closer to him crawling into his lap. He wraps his thick arms around you and rubs your back.

"There's my girl," he murmurs and pecks your temple.

You nuzzle him like a puppy seeking more affection from its owner. Your backside rests on his lap, your arms snug around his abdomen.

"I'm just curious though, pup. What's the big thing with being called dog? It's not that different than puppy," he says, a hint of caution in his voice. He figured now was as good a time as any to ask. He knew it was the main part of what Mystique said that set you off.

You don't react with anger or defensiveness which pleases him. Instead, you shrug.

"Cause. Puppy sounds cute. Dog is just so... bleh," you say, "It makes me sound like a gross animal that someone has to wrangle."

His eyebrow rises. You can see the amusement in his eyes, but he successfully kills his laugh before it leaves his throat.

"Mmm. Makes sense. Can't have anyone thinking you're gross."

"Exactly," you say and kiss his cheek, "You get it. I just... I don't wanna be your pet, I wanna be yours."

You breathe out the words and push yourself closer on his lap. He appeases your desire for less space and pulls you to his chest.

"You are mine. You don't have to worry about that," he says.

"And I still wanna be your little puppy."

He chuckles. His head ducks down to your neck to lay a few kisses there. One of his palms drifts down to gently knead the dough of your ass.

"You also are my little puppy. My little puppy that follows me everywhere. Mine to hold and love on. Mine to play with. Mine to deal with when she gets bratty."

The last word comes out teasing and brings a happy sound out of you. "I wasn't being bratty before. She started it," you say, playing along.

"Hmmm, you're right. Maybe fussy's a better word," he mutters and nips at the soft flesh of your neck.

"Nuh uh. I was being totally normal," you say and nudge at his face with your nose, getting a little squirmy on his lap.

He responds by flipping you over onto your back. The mattress creaks with the bout of pressure and a squeal leaves your throat. You can feel his length against your hip, half-hard already from how you had wiggled on his lap.

"Oh please," he says, "Why do you think I brought you up here? I can tell when my pup needs to calm down. And I know just how to do that, don't I?"

You whimper and nod. He grins before returning his lips to your neck. He nips a few love bites onto the delicate area, drawing little whines from you. His hands hold you in place and move with your body's wriggling. He gropes at your hips and waist, paws at your tits, and slides them around to massage your ass.

"Such a good girl. So responsive for me," he coos.

The condescending affection sends a pulse down to your clit, and your hips roll up to meet his. One of your legs hooks around his waist to pull his body closer.

"Logan. Don't tease," you pout.

Your whiny plea doesn't garner any sympathy from him though. He laughs against your neck and pulls back to smirk down at you.

"My little puppy needs to learn some patience. You think if you don't get my dick in seconds that it's teasing," he taunts.

You whine again and press your leg down on him. He doesn't make any move to pull his cock out though. One set of his fingers comes up to your jaw, directing your lips to an angle where his can land on yours. He kisses you nice and deep, swallowing up any bratty urges that were springing around inside your head. His tongue is warm and soft, gentle against yours.

Meanwhile, his freehand does start to slide down below. It travels beneath the waistband of your bottoms. His warm fingers glide over the plush skin of your pelvis and slot between your lower lips to find your swollen nub. He flicks at it, instantly getting a mewl from you.

You can feel his smug smile against your mouth, but you don't have much time to react to it before his middle finger starts swirling around your bud. Your leg releases his body as it squirms with your other on the mattress. You moan into his mouth and boost your hips into his touch, wanting more of that blissful friction.

"Sweet girl," he coos. The words are muffled by your skin, but you could pick those syllables out of any lineup. "That's your favorite spot, isn't it? Always gets you wriggling for me like a little puppy."

"Mhm," you whimper with a faint nod.

Your heels dig into the mattress to give you some leverage to push your hips up so he can tug your pants off. He takes the opportunity and flings them off the bed. With you bare to him like that, he leaves your lips and moves down. He pulls your top off next and smooches between your breasts and over your tummy before landing between your legs.

He kneels on the floor at the edge of the mattress. His hands hook around your thighs and pull you in his direction.

"C'mere, baby. Give me that puppy cunt. Gotta get it all wet, so it can take my cock."

With that, he buries his head between your thighs. You gasp and throw your head back. Your hands fly to his head to grab at the two dark points of hair.

Logan gives his all to the task of pleasuring you. Whether it was his cock or his mouth, you were never getting anything less than his best. That's obvious right now as he eats you out like it's all he has to live for. He laps at your poor little clit before sucking it into his mouth. It gets some good suction from his lips before he pulls away and licks a broad stripe over your cunt.

He prods his tongue at your entrance, pushing the soft appendage against your hole. You whine more, and he feels your heels dig into his back as they had the mattress. Little expletives float from your mouth into the air as you experience such a rush of euphoria.

"Taste so good, pup. So fuckin' sweet," he mumbles. His lips open and close over your pussy, making out with it.

You rock your hips back and forth, essentially humping his face. He groans and only works harder. Your cute reactions only spurred him on. He twists his tongue just how he'd learned you liked and uses the perfect amount of pressure to get you gushing for him. Your arousal begins to coat his chin, his dark facial hair glistening with your wetness.

"Nice and wet. I'm just gonna slide right in, huh baby?"

"Yeah," you pant. Your hips buck when his nose bumps your clit, but he keeps you held in place.

He kisses your clit before dragging his tongue over you anymore. The soft touch pulls a whimper from you. Your brain starts to get all muddled and hazy. The dreamy feeling always took over when he had you like this. He knows it's coming on too. He can tell by the sudden softening of your movements. You're less jerky and more fluid in how you fidget.

"Oh, that's it. I think my pretty puppy's ready for me," he says, voice smooth on your ears.

He wags his tongue over your little bundle of nerves a few more times before standing to undress himself. His shirt comes off first, dropped to the floor with your garments. His pants are next to go, crumpled on the ground and kicked off his ankles.

Crawling back on top of you, his larger figure boxes you in on the soft surface. His cock is fully hard by now, red and angry, leaking desire from the tip. He guides it to your center and rubs it through your soaked folds.

A soft grunt leaves him as your nectar coats his shaft and drips onto his balls a little too. He only slides it against you a couple times, not wanting to waste the stimulation humping when he could be nestled deep inside.

He brings his tip down to your hold and pushes it in. Your walls accept the familiar intrusion and he groans at the comfort of your velvet walls contracting around him. He pushes his length in all the way until he bottoms out.

Then, adjusting himself and gripping at your hips, he starts to thrust. The motions start as gentle rocks. Taps of his pelvis against your ass. You flutter around him. Moans leak from you, and he smiles at the obvious pleasure coursing through your body.

He fucks you deep, just how you always asked for it. You weren't concerned with whining for harder and deeper right now. This was enough. The feeling of his cock buried in you soothed you like nothing else. Your eyes roll back and puffs of air come from your nostrils.

"Fuck, honey. Feels like I can barely last with you," he grumbles.

"Can't even think when I'm with you," you babble.

Your arms come up to pull him closer, and he lets you. He presses his body into yours, in-turn, shoving his cock as far into you as physically possible. You cry out with the pressure. It was the best kind. Deep and satisfying. To the point that you can feel it in your tummy every time his belly pushes on yours.

"You may not be my dog, baby, but one day you're gonna be my perfect breeding bitch," he grunts.

Your jaw goes slack, eyes drooping with lust. Your head tilts back and he leans into yours more.

"Gonna have you full of me forever. Always gonna be mine."

You can't even respond. Your mind isn't coming up with any coherent response. All you can do is whimper and whine like the needy pup that you are.

"This is what you need sometimes, puppy. Need me to stretch you out on my cock. Get all those thoughts out of your head. Cause puppies don't have to think. Not when you have someone like me taking care of you."

Your thighs start quivering, a sign you were reaching your peak. He knows this and drills into you harder. His balls slap against you every time he pistons his hips. His heated skin rubs against yours. He occupies all your senses, overloading you with him.

"Logan... gotta... gonna cum," you whine.

"Then cum for me," he mumbles simply, "Cum all over my cock, and I'll be right behind you."

You nod. Your back arches up. It takes you a little more, but when you get there, you crash into the throes of release. A sharp yelp bursts from you. Your feet kick a little and your legs press against his sides in an attempt to shut him out.

You get so fucking tight when you cum. Your hole clenches around him, calling out to him to spill every drop of his seed inside your wanting orifice. He growls and drops his head in your neck. He feels it building between his hips. The pressure grows until he can't take it anymore. It snaps and the flood gates open.

He bites at your neck, not hard enough to break the skin but with enough need to leave a little mark. Hot, sticky cum shoots out of him in thick ropes. Warmth fills your insides and you feel like you're sinking into the mattress below you. Both of you are panting with the intensity of the high.

You've already come down by the time he's starting to. After he nuts, Logan tends to get a little sappy. His arms pull you in tighter and he pecks at your neck a few times more muttering something unintelligible about his baby puppy.

"So what do you think?" you ask and twirl into the room, showing off your new outfit.

It matched his. Black leather snug on your body, lined with the same gold on the seams of Logan's. The bold X that shown on his belt could be found on the zipper of your top, dangling against your chest.

He smiles at you, standing from the bed to walk over and get a better view.

"Looks pretty good," he says upon approaching, "Seems a little tight though. You got room for your tail in that thing?"

You laugh at his joke and spin around again, showing the back where the suit had accommodated for your tail to poke through. It whips back and forth before you turn to him again.

"Just perfect for you then," he says and pulls you close, patting your ass and kissing your forehead, "Look at you. An official member of the team."

You nod and struggle not to bounce all around the room with the excitement vibrating through your cells.

"We're gonna be like so totally cool together," you say.

"Yeah. Totally," he imitates affectionately. He cups your jaw, watching your cheeks squish in and your lips puff out. Leaning down, he puts his mouth on yours in a soft kiss. "You're gonna do great."

The words come out as a whisper against your lips. One of your canines slips over your bottom lip as you take it between your teeth. But the display of timidity only lasts a second.

"I know," you beam.

Locking your fingers around his palm, you drag him to the door and out into the hall. Your arm makes his swing as he walks along behind you. He rolls his eyes lovingly at your confident display, but he can't keep his gaze off your happy self. He lets you pull him without resistance.

Now it would be his turn to follow you.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fluff #wolverine x reader #wolverine imagine #wolverine fluff #wolverine x you #wolverine smut #marvel x reader #marvel smut #ch: logan howlett 💌

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mywaywardcupcake · 1 year ago

Note

For the meme: 2, 3, 8 and 28 (about Ryo) for Tristan?

(I'm still working on yours I promise 😅+😭 I've got three out of five questions finished already)

2. A canon or headcanon hill I will die on

Headcanon hill I would die on is a bit hard, I will be honest. Mostly because I know as I learn about characters and interact with the fandom, I tend to change their headcanons a bit. Maybe one will be that he is gay, like he has absolutely no interest in girls whats so ever. That one is lame but also the one that has never changed for me so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

3. Obscure headcanon

Oh, that he 100% works in a museum. He absolutely loves being able to handle and work with occult or creepy artifacts. (Was the obscure? Probably not)

8. Unpopular opinion about them

Again, I am terrible at answering these. I don't think I have any unpopular opinions of him? Maybe that I can 100% see how he scored higher on the narcissistic and nonsensical traits list than y.bakura? Though I don't think that's an unpopular opinion. Or may it will be that I absolutely love that damn British accent and prefer it over any other voice???

28. How they feel about Honda.

Oh, so in my ship brain, it's he absolutely loves and adores this man. Canon (ish cause, honestly, still HC territory) I think Ryou still really appreciates him so much. If I think back (still rereading the manga), I don't think there's a ton of interactions between these two as a lot of Honda's interactions are with y.bakura. Honda was one of the few who seemed to always catch on when there was that change in Ryou and also definitely would fight for Ryou. Even though Ryou may have never been conscious during these times, I think he knows either from others telling him or maybe a weird intuition about it. I think that Ryou honestly truly appreciates Honda for all he has done and truly cares about him for it.

#thanks for the ask!!#it was fun to answer #sorry my answers arent super interesting #also dont worry about it!#I look forward to reading yours whenever you are ready but don't stress about!

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winxanity-ii · 3 months ago

Text

DAMNED DEVOTION [3/3]

ship: father charlie x fem!nun!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 ( m. receiving oral/handjob; fem. receiving oral; p in v; overstimulation; creampie, wrap before you tap kiddos; breeding kink; degradation/praise kink; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery ) word count: 5.4k a/n: ahhh, i can't believe i finally finished the final part to this little 'devotion' piece. to thank you all for following along with this series i may have gone a little filthy 😅 also, don't know if you guys care to know, but it's my twin (@k-nayee) and i's 20th birthday today, wheeewwww 🎉🥳! i'll see you all in the next update, and don't be afraid to shoot an ask/request or check out my other works! this is a continuation of my previous one-shotS, '𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍' and '𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.' If you haven't read those yet, I recommend starting there to understand the progression of their relationship….

★·.·´ɢʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇʀɪᴇ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

It was a bright afternoon, the sun hanging high in the sky, its rays filtering through the branches of the old oak tree that stood at the edge of the courtyard. The air smelled fresh, filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the distant murmur of conversation.

A group of young nuns-in-training, dressed in their modest habits, sat on the grass, their voices soft with laughter. You were among them, sitting with your legs tucked beneath you, your Bible open in your lap, a pencil in your hand as you made notes from the earlier service.

The warmth of the sun on your skin made you feel content, almost peaceful, and you were momentarily lost in thought, the words on the page blurring slightly as your mind wandered.

"Sister ____!" a voice called, breaking through your concentration.

You looked up, startled, to see one of the younger nuns smiling at you, her eyes bright with curiosity. She had a round face, still clinging to the softness of her youth, her cheeks flushed from the sun. Her name was Sister Olive, and she was always one of the more talkative ones, her energy infectious among the group.

"Yes?" you replied, giving her a gentle smile. The group of nuns-in-training giggled amongst themselves, their eyes flickering between you and something—or rather someone—further down the courtyard path.

You followed their gaze and saw Father Charlie walking alongside another priest, his expression focused, his hands clasped behind his back.

The sun seemed to catch on his features, highlighting the strong line of his jaw, the soft waves of his hair. He looked every bit the holy man, yet there was an undeniable handsomeness to him, something that drew eyes wherever he went.

Sister Olive leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Sister ____, does Father Charlie have a wife?"

Your brows furrowed slightly, confused by the question. "Pardon?" you asked, blinking as you looked back at her.

The group broke into another fit of giggles, Sister Olive glancing towards Father Charlie again before continuing. "I heard that priests can be married if they were married before being ordained..." she trailed off, her tone curious, her gaze turning back to you. "I just wondered if Father Charlie was ever married. He seems like he could be, doesn't he?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks at the implication, and you quickly shook your head, trying to keep your voice steady. "No, Sister Olive, he isn't married," you answered, your tone soft but firm.

The young nuns exchanged glances, and another wave of giggles spread through the group, their laughter light and full of the innocence of youth.

Sister Olive sighed dramatically, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Ah, I thought so. He's too serious to have a wife, don't you think? But still... he's quite handsome."

You swallowed, glancing back towards Father Charlie, who was now nearing the edge of the courtyard, his eyes scanning the area as if searching for something—or someone.

You quickly looked away, your heart fluttering in your chest, a strange mixture of emotions churning within you. You knew you shouldn't think of him in that way, shouldn't let the words of the younger nuns affect you, but it was impossible not to.

The memory of his touch, his voice, the way he had looked at you in the confessional—it all came rushing back, making your pulse quicken, your hands trembling slightly as you closed your Bible.

A second later, a shadow fell over the group; the young nuns quickly quieted, their giggles turning into soft murmurs. Looking up, you saw Father Charlie standing before you, a small, knowing grin on his lips.

His eyes locked onto yours, an intensity in his gaze that made your breath catch. He gave a short, polite bow of his head. "Good morning, Sister ____," he said, his voice smooth, almost gentle, before his gaze shifted to the rest of the group. "Good morning, sisters."

The young nuns responded in unison, their voices a mix of giggles and greetings. You looked down at your Bible, mumbling a quiet, "Good morning, Father Charlie," along with the others, your face heating up under his watchful eyes.

You thought that was the end of it, that he would move on and let you be, but then he spoke again, his voice calling your name.

"Sister ____," he said, his tone still polite, but there was something in it that made your heart skip a beat. "I was hoping I could have your assistance with preparing for next week's sermon. I need some help organizing the notes and scriptures. Would you be able to spare a moment?"

You felt your heart race, already knowing that this was a lie, that his request had little to do with the sermon and everything to do with the tension that lingered between you.

Clearing your throat, you forced a smile, nodding as you closed your Bible and rose to your feet. "Of course, Father," you replied, turning to the young nuns. "I'll see you all later."

They nodded, their eyes wide with curiosity as they watched you walk away with Father Charlie. He led you across the courtyard, his pace measured, his hands clasped behind his back.

You followed him in silence, your heart pounding, your mind racing with a mix of anticipation and fear.

He brought you to the sacristy—a room in the church where sacred objects and vestments were kept and prepared for use during rituals.

The room was medium-sized, its thick concrete walls lined with shelves that held ornate chalices, gilded candlesticks, and other sacred items. A large wooden table stood in the center, covered with cloth and a few open books, the sunlight streaming through the small window, casting a warm glow over the space.

The air smelled faintly of incense, the scent comforting yet heavy, reminding you of the solemnity of the church.

You turned around just in time to see Father Charlie shut the door, the soft click of the lock echoing in the quiet room.

Your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in your throat as he turned back to you, his eyes dark, filled with something you couldn't quite name—something that made your pulse quicken, your hands trembling slightly at your sides.

You swallowed, trying to steady yourself, and turned back around, your eyes roaming over the various sacred objects lining the shelves. You busied yourself by adjusting the cloth on the table, pretending to study the items, anything to keep yourself distracted from the tension filling the room.

You could feel him behind you, his presence heavy, the air thick with something unspoken.

A shudder ran through you as you felt his hands on your shoulders, his fingers rubbing gently against the fabric of your habit, caressing your shoulders with a slow, deliberate touch. You closed your eyes, trying to suppress the tremble that ran through your body, your breath catching in your throat.

"F-Father Charlie..." you began, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.

Before you could say anything more, he spun you around, his hands firm on your shoulders. His eyes were intense, dark, filled with a hunger that made your knees weak. His face was inches from yours, and you could see the way his pupils were blown wide; his lips parted slightly as he looked at you.

"Shhh," he murmured, one of his hands moving up to cup your face, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. His touch was gentle, almost tender, but there was an intensity behind it that made your heart race. His gaze bore into yours, and for a moment, you felt like you were caught, trapped in the depth of his eyes, unable to look away.

You took a shaky step back, your eyes dropping to the floor as you tried to gather your thoughts. You turned away from him, your hands gripping the edge of the table, your knuckles white as you spoke, your voice trembling. "Father, I... I find myself at war. What we... what we have, it's wrong. It's against everything we believe in, everything we stand for. I can't... we can't keep doing this."

You heard him let out a soft, frustrated sigh, and a second later, his hands were on you again, spinning you around to face him. There was a tension in his jaw; his eyes narrowed slightly, frustration evident in the way he looked at you.

"No," he said, his voice firm, his gaze intense as he held you in place. "No, Sister. You're wrong. This... what we have, it's not wrong. It's not some sin that we need to be ashamed of." His voice softened slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Do you think the love between Jesus and Mary Magdalene was wrong? Do you think He loved her any less because of who she was? Love is not something to be condemned, not when it's real... not when it consumes you the way this consumes me."

His voice dropped lower, almost a groan, his eyes darkening as he stepped closer, his chest brushing against yours. "You have no idea what you do to me. The way you look at me, the way you move, the way you speak—it's made me delirious. I can't think of anything else but you; I can't focus on anything but this need, this hunger for you. You've taken hold of me, body and soul, and I can't... I can't let you go."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your cheeks flushing at the intensity of his gaze, the raw need in his voice. You could feel your resolve crumbling, the conflict within you fading beneath the weight of his confession, the depth of his longing.

"Please," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly, a desperate edge to his words. "Please, just let me have you, one last time. If you're sure—if you really mean it, I'll let you go. But please... just one more time."

A soft, almost mousy, "Okay," left your lips before you could stop yourself, the word barely audible, but it was all he needed.

In an instant, he was on you, his lips crashing against yours, his hands pulling you close, his fingers digging into your waist as he kissed you with a hunger that took your breath away.

Your steps staggered back, your body unsteady as he moved with you, following you, his lips never leaving yours. Your back hit the edge of the table, and he pressed against you, his body warm, his touch insistent, his kiss deepening as his tongue slipped into your mouth, coaxing a soft moan from your throat.

His hands moved to your hips, lifting you slightly as he guided you onto the table, his lips trailing down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You could feel the intensity of his need, the way his body pressed against yours, his hands exploring, claiming, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

His fingers were frantic as they pushed up your habit, his touch rough, almost desperate. His lips never left your skin, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your collarbone, across your chest.

You could feel his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts, his need evident in every hurried movement, every touch. He kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours, swallowing your soft moans as his hands moved beneath the fabric, lifting it higher, his touch hot against your bare skin.

You gasped when he dropped to his knees before you, his lips brushing against your inner thigh, his hands holding your legs apart. Just as he was about to continue, you panicked slightly, your hands flying to his shoulders, gripping them tightly. "W-Wait," you stuttered, your voice shaky, your heart pounding in your chest.

Charlie looked up at you, his gaze questioning, his breath hot against your thighs. His eyes were dark, filled with desire, and his lips were parted, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

You swallowed, licking your lips nervously as you avoided his gaze, your fingers still gripping his shoulders. "I... you always... I mean, you always... please me with your mouth," you stammered, your face growing hot, your voice barely above a whisper. "I-I was wondering if... if I could... return the favor?"

Your words were awkward, your innocence clear in the way you spoke, the way your eyes flickered everywhere but at him. You cleared your throat, trying to steady yourself, your voice going quiet. "I mean... if you want, Father..." You finally forced yourself to meet his gaze, your eyes wide, nervous, and hopeful.

For a moment, there was silence between the two of you, the air thick with tension. You began to worry that you had said something wrong, that you had crossed some line, but then Charlie let out a low groan, his hands tightening on your thighs, his head dropping against them. He muttered something, his voice muffled, and you barely caught the words, "Are you truly an angel, or a devil sent to test me?"

He stood slowly, his hands sliding up your thighs as he rose, his eyes never leaving yours. When he reached you, he cupped your face, pulling you into a deep, lingering kiss. His lips moved slowly against yours, his tongue teasing, tasting, and when he finally pulled away, he left a soft peck against your lips. His eyes were softer now, the intensity replaced with something gentler, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip, his touch tender.

Then, his expression shifted, his eyes darkening, a low, commanding tone entering his voice as he spoke. "Get on your knees," he said, his voice almost a growl.

You felt a shiver run through you, your body reacting instinctively to his words. You stared up at him, your heart pounding, your pulse quickening as you saw the way his eyes had darkened, the hunger there almost overwhelming. His breathing was shallow, his gaze so intense it made your knees weak.

Slowly, you moved, slipping off the table, your feet touching the ground as you lowered yourself to your knees before him. You didn't break eye contact as you descended, your gaze locked on his, the intensity of the moment making your heart pound.

There was something electric in the air, something that made your skin tingle, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

Father Charlie's eyes were dark, his gaze fixed on you, his lips parted slightly, his chest rising and falling as he watched you. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension between you almost unbearable.

You knelt there, looking up at him, your hands resting on your thighs, waiting, anticipating.

Slowly, Charlie's hands moved beneath his robes, the rustling of fabric almost deafening in the silence of the room. You heard the soft clink of his belt buckle, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes widened slightly, your breath catching in your throat as you watched him, expecting him to pull his robes up and over his waist, but instead, he began slipping off the entire robe, his movements slow, deliberate.

Your gaze was drawn to his chest as the robe slid off his shoulders, revealing smooth, tanned skin, the muscles beneath rippling with each movement. He pulled the robe over his head, his arms flexing, the fabric falling to the floor behind him.

Your eyes trailed down his body, taking in every inch of him—the broadness of his shoulders, the way his chest rose and fell, the dark hair that started at his navel and led downward, disappearing beneath the waistband of his unbuckled trousers.

There was a dark line of hair, a happy trail that made your breathing stutter, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

Charlie's eyes never left yours as he reached down, his fingers brushing against your cheek, his touch gentle, almost affectionate. His thumb caressed the bottom of your face before his hand shifted, his fingers gently squeezing your cheeks until your lips puckered slightly. His eyes darkened, his lips curling into a faint smile.

"Pull it out," he said, his voice low, almost a growl. He dropped his hand away, his gaze heavy as he watched you.

With shaking hands, you reached up, your fingers trembling as they found the button of his trousers. You fumbled for a moment, your breath shaky, your heart pounding in your chest.

You unbuttoned his trousers, your fingers brushing against the zipper, pulling it down slowly, the sound loud in the quiet room. You tugged the fabric down his hips, the trousers falling to his ankles.

Your eyes widened as you saw the large bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers, the outline of him clear, the sight making your breath hitch. Slowly, you reached forward, your fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down, your gaze fixed on him.

His length sprang free, bobbing slightly before settling against his thigh. You couldn't help but stare, taking him in. The veins along his length stood out, thick and prominent, the head flushed a deep pink, glistening slightly.

You swallowed hard, your eyes tracing every inch of him, the reality of it sinking in. He was bigger than you remembered, the sheer size of him making your breath catch, your heart pounding even harder.

That... that was inside me...

Your cheeks flushed at the memory, the thought of it making your thighs press together, heat pooling in your belly.

"Sister," Charlie's voice broke through your thoughts, his tone soft but commanding. Your eyes snapped up, meeting his gaze, his dark eyes watching you intently. There was something in his expression, a mixture of desire and tenderness that made your breath catch. "Give me your hand," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated for only a moment before you extended your hand to him, your fingers trembling slightly. He took it gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, and you watched as his other hand moved down his chest, his fingers gliding over his smooth skin, tracing the lines of his muscles before finally wrapping around his length.

He let out a shaky breath, his chest rising and falling as he began to stroke himself, his thumb rubbing over the sensitive tip. His eyes never left yours, watching your reaction, his lips parted as he sucked in a breath, a shudder running through his body.

The sight made your mouth go dry, your eyes widening as you watched him, unable to look away. After a few seconds, he shuddered your name, his voice rough, needy. "Touch me," he panted, his eyes half-lidded, his gaze filled with desire.

You allowed him to guide your hand, wrapping your fingers around him, his own hand covering yours, his grip firm. A low, broken moan left his lips at the contact, his head tilting back slightly, his eyes closing for a moment.

You could feel the warmth of him, the way he twitched in your hand, the weight of him almost overwhelming.

Sitting up on your knees, you moved closer, your other hand resting on his strong thigh to steady yourself. Your thumb unconsciously brushed against his leg, the muscles tensing beneath your touch as you focused on holding him in your hand.

You looked up at him, your eyes questioning, unsure of what to do next. Charlie's gaze dropped to meet yours, his thumb reaching out to pull down your bottom lip, his eyes darkening as he dipped it into your mouth for a brief moment. He let out a soft sigh, his voice almost a whisper. "Open wider," he instructed, his eyes fixed on you. "Drop your tongue, just like you're about to eat a popsicle."

You followed his instructions, your jaw dropping open, your tongue hanging out slightly, your eyes still locked on his. He hummed in approval, guiding your hand up, moving his length towards your awaiting tongue.

The tip of him brushed against your tongue, the taste salty, musky, as he rubbed the head across the surface, letting out an appreciative hum. He did this for a few seconds, his eyes watching every reaction you made, his lips curling into a small smile.

Slowly, he pushed himself further into your mouth, just an inch or two, his breath hitching as he watched you. "Close your lips around it," he murmured, his voice strained. "Suck."

You closed your mouth around him, your lips sealing around the head of his length, your tongue pressing against the underside. He let out a deep groan, his hand moving to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he held you in place. "Just like that," he whispered, his voice thick hoarse. "That's it... good girl."

You began to suck gently, your cheeks hollowing as you moved your head slightly, taking him in just a bit more. The taste of him filled your mouth, salty and slightly bitter, but not unpleasant.

His hips jerked slightly, a low moan escaping his lips as he watched you, his eyes dark, filled with lust. He guided you slowly, his hand on the back of your head setting the pace, his breathing growing more ragged with each passing moment.

"Use your tongue," he panted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Swirl it around the tip... yes, just like that." You did as he instructed, your tongue moving over the sensitive head, and he shuddered, his grip on your hair tightening, a deep groan rumbling from his chest. "God, you have no idea what you do to me," he muttered, his voice strained, his eyes locked on yours.

You continued to move, your hand stroking the base of him as you sucked, your other hand still resting on his thigh, your thumb brushing against his skin in a soothing motion.

His breaths came in short gasps, his chest heaving as he watched you, his eyes half-lidded, his lips parted. He whispered your name, his voice filled with need, his hips rocking slightly, pushing himself deeper into your mouth.

"You're perfect," he groaned, his head tilting back, his eyes closing as he lost himself in the sensation. "So good... just like that. Don't stop." His words were slurred, his voice thick with pleasure, and you could feel him throbbing in your mouth, the taste of him growing stronger as he neared his peak.

His hips began to move more, his breathing turning into short, desperate gasps, his hand guiding you, holding you in place as he chased his release. He muttered your name, his voice breaking, a mixture of moans and whispered praises filling the room as he lost himself to the pleasure.

When he finally came, the taste of him filled your mouth, his hips jerking, a deep groan escaping his lips as he held you there, his fingers tangled in your hair. He panted heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looked down at you, his eyes dark, filled with something raw, something possessive.

Charlie reached down, his hand wrapping around your arm, pulling you up from your knees with a strength that left you breathless. He yanked you into a kiss, his lips crashing against yours, his tongue licking into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue.

He groaned against your lips, his hand moving to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he devoured you, his kiss deep, consuming. His tongue moved against yours, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he pulled back slightly, licking across your lips before placing a softer, lingering kiss there.

He pulled away, his eyes locking onto yours, a small, satisfied smile on his lips. Without a word, he lifted you, settling you back onto the table, his hands pushing up your habit, his gaze dropping between your legs as he knelt before you once again. "I need to prep you," he murmured, his voice husky, his hands sliding up your thighs.

His fingers reached between your legs, expecting to find the fabric of your underwear, but instead, they came in contact with your soaked folds. He let out a surprised sound, his eyes shooting up to meet yours, a brow raised in question. You released a huff, your cheeks flushing as you looked away, muttering, "It's laundry day..."

Charlie let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly, his lips curling into an amused smile. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your knee before his hands moved to push your thighs further apart, the stretch making your muscles burn slightly, the sensation both uncomfortable and thrilling. He held your legs open, his eyes fixed on you, watching your every reaction.

Before you knew it, his mouth was on you, his lips pressing against your sensitive flesh, a silent gasp falling from your lips, your eyes closing, your head falling back as your back arched off the table.

The feeling of his tongue moving against you, licking, sucking, made your thighs tremble in his hold, your fingers gripping the edge of the table, your knuckles turning white.

He worshipped you with his mouth, his tongue moving with purpose, teasing your entrance, his lips closing around your clit, sucking gently.

One of his hands moved up, his fingers brushing against your entrance before slowly pushing inside, stretching you, his mouth never stopping, never hesitating. He worked you with a skill that left you breathless, every flick of his tongue, every gentle thrust of his fingers pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your orgasm built slowly, a steady climb that made your whole body tense, every nerve ending alive with sensation. Charlie seemed to know exactly where to touch, where to kiss, how to move his fingers to bring you to the brink, his name falling from your lips in a breathless whisper, your body trembling, your thighs shaking around his head.

But just as you were about to fall over the edge, just as the pleasure was about to consume you, he pulled away.

A frustrated whine escaped your lips, your eyes opening, a mixture of confusion and need in your gaze as you looked down at him. He stood slowly, his eyes dark, a small smirk playing on his lips as he watched you, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your body aching for release.

Charlie licked his lips, his eyes never leaving yours as he reached up, his fingers tilting your head back, exposing the line of your neck to him. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss just below your jaw, his breath warm against your skin. His other hand moved to wrap one of your legs around his waist, his fingers digging into your thigh as he held you against him, his body pressed tightly to yours.

He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Don't worry, Sister," he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'll fill you back up and give you what you need." The words sent a shiver down your spine, your core clenching at the promise, a whimper escaping your lips.

Charlie reached between your bodies, his hand wrapping around his length, positioning himself. He rubbed the tip against your clit, the sensation making your body jerk, a gasp falling from your lips.

He moved slowly, dragging the head of his length up and down your slit, teasing you, your body trembling in his arms, the anticipation almost too much to bear.

Then, without warning, he pushed forward, bullying his way into you, the stretch almost unbearable.

You arched further into his arms, your mouth falling open in a silent scream, your body struggling to accommodate him. He let out a deep groan, his fingers tightening on your thigh, his other hand moving to grip your hip, holding you in place as he filled you completely.

His pace was brutal, each stroke long and deep, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in, his hips slamming against yours. His breath was hot against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke, his voice low, rough, filled with need. "You... You feel so good... so tight around me," he panted, his words broken by soft moans. "I'm going to fuck you, fill you up until you can't think of anything else."

His hips snapped against yours, his movements rough, desperate, his body pressing you down against the table, his weight holding you in place. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Imagine it, Sister," he whispered, his voice dark, almost a growl. "A secret child... a product of our sin, of our blasphemy against the church." His words sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your core clenching around him, your body reacting to the forbidden promise, the thought of it pushing you closer to the edge.

Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your entire body tensing, your back arching as the pleasure consumed you, a silent scream on your lips. You could feel Charlie shudder above you, his thrusts growing erratic, his breath coming in short gasps as he chased his own release.

After a few more brutal strokes, he let out a deep groan, his hips pressing against yours as he came, his body tensing, his fingers digging into your skin.

He stayed there, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath hot against your neck as he tried to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling heavily. You could feel his heart pounding against your own, the room filled with the sound of your ragged breathing, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex.

You shivered as he began to pull back, the movement making you wince slightly, your body still sensitive from the intense pleasure.

His softening length slipped out of you, the feeling making you gasp softly, a mix of relief and emptiness settling in your chest. You felt the warm, sticky sensation as globs of his cum poured out, slowly dripping down your inner thighs.

You began to close your legs, thinking he was done, that he would put his clothes back on, but his hand stopped you, his fingers pressing against the inside of your thigh, keeping you open.

Charlie lowered himself to his knees once again, his eyes fixed on you, a dark hunger still present in his gaze. Before you could understand what was happening, his mouth was on you, his lips pressing against your sensitive folds.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you felt his tongue, warm and wet, sliding through your slickness, lapping up the mixture of your release and his own. His groans were sinful, vibrating against you, his eyes fluttering closed as if savoring the taste.

Your brain raced, unsure of what to do or what to say, your body twitching beneath his touch, your legs instinctively trying to close, still overly sensitive from your previous climax. But Charlie's hands were strong, his grip firm as he held your thighs apart, his fingers digging into your skin, keeping you open for him.

He was relentless, his tongue moving with purpose, his lips closing around your swollen clit, sucking gently, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

Your breaths came in short, desperate gasps, your fingers gripping the edge of the table, your knuckles white. You could feel the pleasure building again, a slow, steady climb that made your whole body tense, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

You couldn't hold back the soft whimpers and moans that spilled from your lips, your head falling back, your eyes closing as the pleasure consumed you.

When you came, it hit you like a final, blinding wave, your body arching off the table, your thighs trembling in Charlie's hold. A broken cry escaped your lips, your back arching, your eyes squeezed shut.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Your mind was clouded as the pleasure consumed you, the feeling like the flames of damnation licking at your skin. For I am burned by the fire of desire, a sinner in the eyes of heaven.

And you weren't sure if you minded at all.

A/N: ya know, i think my smut has gotten better, what do you guys think??? and to answer the upcoming question(s) i know will be asked: yes, this is the final part, i won't be continuing the 'Devotion' series/making it into a book 😔 i know, i know. i promise i want too, but knowing me, i tend to bounce around/start new projects out of nowhere, so if i didn't spend weeks planning before hand, it'll grow cold eventually, and i don't wanna put you guys through that 😩 but never fret, i will continue writing for father charlie 😝, he's just too versatile not to. see you guys soon ❤️❤️❤️.

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