#tossing out my self respect for this man

[whimsyvixen]

Never underestimate how BAD I need this fucker

[idkwhattocallmyselfs-stuff]

Broski’s, I just watched a movie at my dad’s (and mom’s but my dad is the one who texted me about it) recommendation and I looked it up expecting to find some feminism, maybe some shit about the creepy, grapey* vibe a character (the villain of the story) gave off, maybe some love for the intelligent queen who kept fighting to get herself out of a truly horrific situation, no matter the cost, or especially for her sheer badassery at the end of the movie, and instead just found thirst posts and fanfic for aforementioned villain? :/ because I want some of that previously mentioned stuff on Red Eye, but now I’m just lowkey mad >:-/

[fushiguho]

For eons, I’ve been thinking about sweet, well-mannered, farmhand!Satoru ☀️ who fucks the literal breath out of you and you guys WILL hear me out, okay?

As your father’s one and only employee, Satoru is held to incredibly high standards which essentially boil down to two, very simple rules; never show up to the farm late and never, he means never pursue his daughter romantically. Seems easy enough, right?

Or so Satoru thought.

“Miss,” a thick, meridional voice utters from far behind, “miss, pardon my frankness, but I believe you just might be the prettiest woman I have ever seen.” Satoru admits candidly, briskly jogging to match your fast-paced gait as you trudge up the hill, toward the farmhouse over yonder.

“Oh, don’t be silly now,” you dismiss, waving a banishing hand, suppressing the ever-growing giddiness that threatens to invalidate your dismissal, “my father wouldn’t like that one bit, you know that. He’ll kill you ten times over, Satoru.” Surely he’s kidding, right? Surely he would never disobey your father’s wishes… right?

Now trudging beside you, Satoru nods slowly, adjusting the rusted buckles of his muddy, denim overalls. A dispirited sigh drags from his pretty, pink lips. Of course he knows. Shoulder to shoulder, the two of you plod toward the house, his lingering gaze as subtle as a sledgehammer, but when is it not?

“I’ve been made well aware,” he finally mutters under his breath as if coming to the unfortunate realization all over again, “but you don’t make it particularly easy for me, miss… you must know that.” His voice is a deep, southern drawl — beautifully elongated vowels like silken honey, the perfect melody for battered souls.

“How do you mean?” Your hand is coming up to your face, shielding your eyes from the sun so that you can peer up at the ivory-haired man beside you. “And you don’t have to call me that y’know.”

“What? Miss?” His incredulous tone forces a giggle past your lips. “Just a token of respect is all, blame my momma,” he smiles, cheeks glowing a beautiful crimson from the parching heat, “and it’s fitting… a pretty name for a pretty lady, hm?” He’s nudging you in the shoulder teasingly.

See? Satoru is sweet. So why on this godforsaken planet does he have you painfully spread apart on your family’s dining room table? Why are his large hands pinning your thighs to the stained wood so that he can watch as your desperate, drooling pussy swallows his cock whole? Why is he leaning down to whisper debauched words of praise directly into your ear?

“Look at this wet, little pussy, goddd… you take me sooo fuckin’ well fuuuuuck, miss,” he’s deliriously tossing his head back to dangle between his shoulder blades, subconsciously yanking you closer to the edge of the rustic table, desperate to feel more of you, “like it was made for me, heh. Was this pretty pussy made for me, miss? Is this my pussy?”

It’s like switch has been flipped, like he’s possessed beyond saving and is now only a shell of his former self. Has he always been this way? Has he always had this filthy of a mouth? You’re not sure, not really. The only thing you’re sure of is the repetitive, obscene strike of his swollen balls against the fat of your ass. It’s the only thing you can hear, feel, think.

“C’monnn now… asked you a question, miss,” he’s leaning closer, mockingly cupping a hand over his ear to observe the way he fucks the breath out of you, “talk to meee, pretty, I wanna hear you. This pussy too loud, huh? Is she too wet for you to hear me?”

“It’s yours! Your p-pussy mhmm,” you cry, nodding frantically in your immense rapture, “fuuuck, you fuck me sooo good… s’good!”

“Yeah, sweet girl? You like how I fuck you?” The dark, breathy chuckle that drags from the depths of his chest renders yours mind blank as you nod dumbly. “You like how I give you everything? All of my cock?” A big, greedy hand is slipping beneath the small of your back, pulling you upright and impossibly closer. “Yeaaaah, you like that cock, look at you…” his hungry gaze is scanning over your stupid expression, “eyes rollin’ to the back of your head like that. Can’t even hear me anymore, can you?”

A pool of light washed denim surrounds Satoru’s feet, the hem of his white t-shirt tucked between his teeth, baring the sweat-ridden skin of his chest and abdomen. The bruising buck of his hips as he fucks himself deeper is only scooting the large table further and further across the hardwood floor. Even his deep, guttural moans are like kindle to an ever growing flame.

It’s always the ones you least expect.

[charliemwrites]

Part 4

Mister(s) Steal Your Girl is, somehow, now the official title. Congratulations you little shits (affectionate).

Content: Toxic Behavior, Brief Weight Shaming, Hurt/Comfort

You didn’t expect to see Johnny much after that one night - or possibly ever again. Kyle introduced you two, it was a lot of fun, but you figure that’ll be the end of it. Like introducing a new man to your girlfriends (not that you can really introduce Kyle to yours) you passed the vibe check and now Kyle will keep you and Johnny separate.

That’s how it’s been with Brandon’s friends. (Granted, you don’t really care for Brandon’s friends. And you figure it’s mutual based on the “uptight” comments they pretended to think you couldn’t hear.)

You’re starting to realize that Kyle is always going to subvert your expectations.

Johnny becomes a fixture - a welcome one. While you and Kyle still have your date nights and privacy, Johnny joins you two at least once a week for movies, drinks, dinner, or just silly adventures out and about.

You’re surprised that you don’t mind. Johnny is fantastic company, always respectful, funny, and friendly. Whenever the two of you are left alone, there’s no dead air. In fact, sometimes you could almost swear there’s electricity. Which is… well. It makes it hard to look him in the eye sometimes - and looking at Kyle even harder.

Guilt nips at your stomach until one of them distracts you with another story you’re 70% sure they shouldn’t tell you.

You and Johnny play a game with pub napkins, doodling something on one folded half, then passing it over for the other to scribble on the second half. The trick is not cheating and seeing the first half, then unfolding it to a complete (and usually silly) picture. Gaz always gets to name whatever monstrosity has been created.

You get a month of that good company. Then Kyle sighs at his phone one night.

“Shipping out again,” he explains when you glance at him.

“Will you be gone long?” you ask, shifting.

His brow furrows. “Not sure. They can’t tell us much over the phone.”

You hum in understanding. Still new to this whole military thing, the redacted danger of it all, but you think you’re getting the hang of it. At least, Kyle never seems annoyed when he can’t answer you, only apologetic.

“Is it gonna be the whole team?” you ask.

“Nah, just me and the cap.” He rubs his palm along your calf, a gesture that you suspect is self-soothing rather than for your benefit. “Probably not too dangerous, then.”

You make a noise of protest, nudging at his thigh with your foot. “Bad luck!”

“Sorry, sorry!” he chuckles, tapping his knuckles on the wooden end table. “You’re right.”

You crawl from your side of the couch to his, nuzzling up under his arm. He trails kisses along the side of your face as you snuggle in.

“I’ll miss you,” you mumble into his neck. Still a little embarrassed to be so needy, but you want him to feel appreciated.

“I’ll miss you too, chickadee. I’ll call if I can, yeah?”

You hum in agreement, squeezing an arm around his middle.

“While I’m gone, if you need anything - even some company - you ought to call Soap,” he adds.

The idea is tempting but… “I don’t want to bother him.”

“I promise you won’t,” he laughs. You don’t know what’s so funny, but hearing his voice rumble in his chest like this is always a treat.

“Maybe,” you allow.

“We’ll take it.” Before you can ask what that means, he loops an arm around your waist and scoops you into his lap. “Now then, about my send off.”

Your giggle turns into a moan as his mouth slants over yours.

Kyle’s only been gone three days. You’ve occupied yourself with cleaning up the flat you share with Brandon. Dust has been collecting since you’ve been out and about so much - and god knows Brandon hardly does more than load the dishwasher. Besides, a good bit of spring cleaning is a pleasant enough distraction, humming as you toss out old things to make more room for the new stuff you’ve been collecting.

“Good to see you getting back to normal,” Brandon says cheerfully. You glance up from the laundry you’re folding. He continues, “I was worried with how behind you got on things, but I knew you just needed some time. I told you this would be better for us both.”

You try not to let that sting. Even if things are better now, and continuing to get better, you can’t forget the pain that lingers from the beginning.

“Tell you what,” he adds, hands in his pockets. “When you finish cleaning up, I’ll take you out to the pub, yeah? Put on something pretty.”

You perk up, pleasantly surprised, though hesitant.

“We could leave earlier if you helped,” you point out, hoping for more than just dinner. “Maybe we could walk in the park or something before eating.”

He gives you a weak smile. One you recognize more than his real one by now. It’s almost apologetic, but not quite.

“I would but I’m bloody exhausted from this week, ya know? Big projects coming up at work.”

Your smile freezes. “And some late nights, I’m sure,” you try to joke.

He doesn’t laugh like you expect, but gives you an odd look. “Why would you say something like that?”

Baffled, you shrug. He shakes his head.

“I’m going to take a nap, come wake me up when you’re ready to go.”

You manage to finish the majority of your to-do list by 5. Shower, get dressed, do your hair and makeup with Brandon snoring in the background until 6. By then, he still hasn’t woken up from his nap, so you perch on the edge of the bed and gently nudge at him until he stirs.

“I’m ready to go, babe,” you murmur.

He scrunches up his face - you spare an affectionate thought for how cute it is. You’ve always found it cute.

“Five more minutes,” he grumbles.

You laugh a little. “It’s getting late, we should probably head out.”

He groans. “Five. Minutes.”

You huff in amusement and reach for his phone to set an alarm, but pause at all the notifications from dating apps crowding his screen. There are… a lot. And as you’re looking, a new message pops up, just labeled “blonde” with a peach emoji. Gross.

You set the alarm and slip away to the living room.

It takes him another half hour to finally rouse, shuffling into the living room with a groan.

“C’mon,” he yawns. “It’s going to be bloody crowded by now.”

You follow him quietly to the car, knowing he’s not chatty when he’s just woken up. Hunger only adds to his mood; you can practically see a cloud forming over his head. By the time he pulls up to the pub, he’s downright grumpy. He grumbles about shit parking, and the milling people outside. It looks busy.

“We could go somewhere else?” you suggest.

“This is fine,” he says.

He parks a block away and starts at a swift pace. You try to hold his hand, but halfway there, he pulls away to check his phone and doesn’t take it again.

Surprisingly, it’s only a twenty minute wait for a table - but Brandon sneers something like “of course it is” under his breath. You smile apologetically at the hostess and usher him away.

He doesn’t talk during the wait, at first. Until suddenly he blurts. “We wouldn’t have to wait if you’d woken me up.”

You blink at him. “I did. You asked for five more minutes.”

“Well, why didn’t you wake me up then?”

“I set an alarm?”

You don’t know why he’s so irritated, just that he seems tired and hungry.

“You know I don’t listen to alarms,” he complains, scowling at the sidewalk.

“Okay… I’ll wake you up next time,” you offer.

“Yeah, next time.”

Thankfully, the two of you are called a little early. The pub is indeed loud and crowded, and you’re definitely overdressed. But at least you know what you want - Brandon’s taken you here a million times before.

Wisely, you wait until he’s downed the texmex rolls before trying for conversation again. He hums along as you talk about work, about the books you’ve been reading, about the new movie you saw last week. You think it’s going pretty well, catching up on each other’s lives, when he interrupts you mid-sentence.

“Where was this?”

You frown. “At the grocery store…?”

“You’re still on that? Thought we moved on from that story.”

You don’t bother finishing it, just ask him about his work. It’s like pulling teeth. A lot of “good” and “busy” and “same as usual.” By the time your entree comes, you’ve given up, not sure if you want to cry or just walk away to see if he even notices. He keeps checking his phone. Your fingers twitch to text Kyle, but you don’t want to bother him while he’s working.

The end of dinner can’t come sooner. You decline dessert when the server asks.

“Probably for the better,” Brandon tells you lowly when they’re gone to get the check. “I think you’ve put on a bit of weight. You know how you get.”

You probably have - Kyle has a sweet tooth and practically begs you to split desserts with him. Johnny’s shares his food with you now too, grinning when you express approval for whatever high-protein dish he’s picked and shoving more at you.

As for “how you get”… Brandon’s mentioned in the past when you were heavier that you get mopey, aren’t much fun to be around.

(A small part of you wonders how that would even effect him at this point. He doesn’t spend enough time around you to notice if you’re mopey. Is that why tonight has been such a disaster…?)

You just collect your purse and lead the way out of the pub. It’s a quiet walk back to the car, even though Brandon seems to be in a better mood. He’s still texting, nearly bumps into an elderly couple along the way.

Back at the apartment, he runs his hand down your side, tugs at the lace hem of your shirt.

“Careful,” you chide.

He sucks his teeth and drops his hand. “I’m just trying to be playful.”

“I know, but I like this shirt.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’ve got three just like it.”

You don’t answer, know it’ll lead to more useless bickering. Just tug the stupid thing over your head, ready to go to bed.

“Hey now, that’s more like it,” he drawls, fingertips running down your spine.

You jump, surprised, but play it off that his hands are cold. He makes some crass comment about warming them up, reaching for your breasts, and your stomach churns.

“I-I think I ate something bad,” you lie, all but sprinting for the bathroom.

You close the door behind you - but don’t lock it. Just sit on the floor, the wall cold against your back, while you try to breathe through your spinning, conflicting thoughts.

He’s finally giving you attention, affection. Why aren’t you jumping at this opportunity to spend time with him? Not long ago, you would have been weeping with joy to have an iota of your normal relationship back. Maybe you really did eat something bad.

“Hey,” Brandon calls through the door, “I’m gonna stay somewhere else tonight.”

You stare at the blank white wood, aghast. “But I’m sick.”

“It’s not like I can do much, is there? Except listen to you be sick all night,” he reasons. “And who knows. Maybe it wasn’t something you ate. Maybe it’s contagious. I don’t want to spend the weekend ill.”

Your eyes burn. He didn’t even open the door to check. “Yeah,” you agree, voice robotic, “you’re right.”

Not even five minutes later, you hear the front door close. That almost, almost does you in. You manage to keep your lackluster dinner down, but not the tears.

You let yourself be pathetic for a few minutes, crying into your arms, folded over your knees. When you finally manage to get yourself together, it’s not Brandon you ache for. It’s Kyle. It’s not possible, you know. You just don’t want to be alone even though the nausea is dissipating.

Sighing, you remove your ruined makeup and wash your face, climb into one of Kyle’s jumpers. At least it still smells like him. It’s only as you’re trying to decide on a comfort show, huddled into a ball on the couch, that you remember his advice.

It takes all of fifteen seconds of debate before you scramble for your phone.

I know it’s late, but are you free, you text Johnny.

A response comes almost immediately.

Always for you, lass. You bite your lip on a tiny smile, already feeling better. Your phone buzzes again. What’s up?

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard for a moment as you figure out what to ask - then how to ask it.

Would you want to come to mine for movies? I don’t feel good…

He answers instantly again. Ice cream not-good or Theraflu not-good?

You sniffle when you remember that being sick was a dealbreaker for your night with Brandon.

Ice cream not-good, you reply.

Say no more, hen. Be there in fifteen. Pick a good one.

You watch TikTok’s until there’s a knock at the door. Upon answering, you’re swept up in a bear hug that lifts you off your socked feet.

“Johnny!” you cry, laughing a bit in shock.

“There she is!” he crows, swinging you around. “Been missin’ my best girl!”

You tell yourself the thrill in your stomach is just from him setting you down. (It’s a harder sell when it happens again seeing his wide smile and warm blue eyes.)

“You're ridiculous,” you huff, “I’m not your best girl.”

He arches his eyebrows. “Oh, yer keepin’ track, are ye?”

“C’mon, you must have a partner or something?” you prod as you usher him inside.

“Kyle must’ve told ye, hen, it’s hard in this line of work,” he explains, shrugging. “Tried before but… usually they just end up feeling neglected, ya ken.”

You hum. That’s why Kyle said you and he would work so well with the open relationship - that you’d still have someone at home while he was out. That you wouldn’t be alone if something happened to him.

“Anyway, this is no kinda talk for a cozy night in, now is it?” Johnny says, cutting your melancholy musing short. “Come look at what I brought ya!”

You only notice then the two grocery bags in one hand. He herds you to the couch and sets them on the coffee table for you to root through.

“My favorite!” You exclaim when you extract the tub of ice cream.

The grin Johnny shoots you is proud. “Kyle said so.”

“You two,” you sigh happily.

He’s also brought a squishy stuffed animal, crisps, popcorn, soda, candy, and a small collection of self-care items. You hold the face-masks up with a questioning smile.

“Heard somewhere that it’s good for ye, when yer feelin’ down.” You try not to giggle when the last word comes out sounding like “doon.” He continues, blissfully ignorant. “Hope that’s the right shite, there was a lot to choose from.”

You throw your arms around him, chest warm. “Thank you, this is perfect, Johnny.”

He circles his arm around your waist, holding you close. “Anytime, bonnie,” he murmurs into your hair.

You squeeze his shoulders as you pull away, waving one of the mask packets with a wicked little smile.

“Wanna try this ‘shite’ with me?” you tease.

You expect a resounding and masculine-heavy no. Instead, Johnny tilts his head consideringly for a moment, then shrugs.

“Eh, why the hell not?”

You wake up the next morning to a mess of candy wrappers, discarded moisturizers, and an empty carton of ice cream. And the smell of eggs. Cartoons are playing quietly on the telly. When you yawn and sit up, you’re greeted by a cheerful Johnny at the stove, wearing your pink apron.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” he calls.

You flush and smile back, glad that you called him. “Mornin’!”

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Masterlist

[cressidagrey]

Stars all aligned - Chapter 1

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

Bashing of like...every IC member? I think Rhys gets the worst though, definitely disordered eating, kinda depression?, isolation

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

He found her deep inside the House of Wind. Far enough from the festivities of Starfall that it was startling to find her.

The second oldest Archeron Sister must have wandered off just like he had.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” Azriel asked her as he spied her sitting in a puddle of her skirts on one of the couches, staring at the empty fireplace.

“Why aren’t you?” Zahra gave back drily, not even looking up at him.

What exactly was he supposed to answer to that? Oh, I can't stomach watching your sister dance with her mate? And even if I could stomach that, Rhys's mental commentary to him about it had turned his stomach. Even when Azriel had kept away from Elain just like Rhysand had ordered him to do, ever since last year. So really...what was he supposed to answer?

“Dancing isn’t exactly my favourite activity,” Azriel finally replied. It wasn’t a lie. 

"Yeah, well, mine neither," she answered with a shrug. "Not that I ever learned."

"You never learned?" he asked surprised. Nesta had learned. Elain had learned.

"Bastard, remember?" Zahra said drily. "I am lucky that I got to learn how to read and write and do basic math. I was not going to be molded into a perfect lady, because no self-respecting man would marry me anyway."

The blunt way Zahra was talking stunned Azriel momentarily. There was something harsh, something almost...bitter and resentful in her voice as she spoke.

It seemed like it didn't matter if one was born a bastard in Illyria or the Human lands. It was horrible either way.

"Your sisters will miss you," he said instead quietly. "And you'll miss the spectacle."

"I don't really care for the festivities," she said with another shrug. "I don’t like the holidays. Humans don’t have any. We… they are too busy trying to survive," Zahra corrected herself quietly. "And besides, I am only here anyway so I don't end up being an indentured servant until some of you decide that I am back in your good graces,” she gave back caustically.

He grimaced. That Zahra had vehemently disagreed about their treatment of Nesta was well known.

It had surprised him too because it was just as just as well known that Nesta seemed to not care for her half-sister on a good day. They weren't particularly close, in any way, shape or form.

Something in his chest clenched painfully. Not from the insult she threw in his direction, but from the defeated way she said it. That she thought that they would just…toss her aside like that.

She was one of them.

"We won't," he said firmly. Her eyes slowly turned toward him and there were dark shadows in those eyes. Out of all the Archeron Sisters, she was the only one with green eyes. Azriel wondered if she had inherited them from her late mother.

Zahra was only the half-sister after all. The result of her father’s dalliance with a maid. Her age put her somewhere between Nesta and Elain. 

It was easy enough to pick out the differences between Nesta, Elain and Feyre and Zahra. Dark hair similar to Elain’s, but green eyes. Skin a few shades darker than any of theirs. Lips that looked like Feyre’s but a nose that looked like none of her sisters. 

Zahra seemed to belong but didn’t. 

And right now, these green eyes…something was wrong. Something was off with these eyes. 

"You don’t know that," she said with a humourless laugh. "Do you want to lie to me too, and  tell me that Rhysand has nothing to do with whatever happened between Elain and you?"

Azriel stiffened, a low sound escaping his throat. She knew. She knew.

"How did you-" he croaked hoarsely and Zahra cocked an eyebrow at him.

 "Do you really think that I hadn't noticed the two of you dancing around each other for months? Or the fact that you two can barely manage to be in the same room together?" she asked dryly and Azriel averted his gaze.  "There is no one as beautiful and kind as my sister," Zahra said drily. "I don't fault you for falling for her."

Azriel said nothing, the pain in his chest growing at her words. The pain...and the bitter realization that his feelings were not as well-hidden as he had thought they were. 

"It doesn't matter," he said quietly. "She has a mate. She deserves better than me anyway."

"Did Rhysand tell you that too?" Zahra said drily. "You never tried to hide the fact that your mate was dying from the same, so you have that on him."

Azriel gritted his teeth, the pain in his chest becoming almost unbearable. "It doesn’t matter," he repeated firmly, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "Elain is happy. I would do nothing to put that in danger." 

"Yes, she is," Zahra agreed. "For what it's worth, I am sorry," she apologised to him, her voice honest.

Azriel swallowed, the pain in his chest lessening only to be replaced by something else. Something...much more complicated. Something like…pity.

He pitied her. This young female was so full of bitterness. He couldn’t even fault her for it either. She had been just a bastard. Even when they had first met the Archeron Sisters…Zahra had been working in the household as a maid. Half employee, half part of the family. Like their father couldn’t make up his mind what he should do with his bastard daughter. 

"You don't have anything to apologise for," Azriel finally told her quietly. "Do you really not want to watch?" he asked her. "You are supposed to wish for something when you see the stars fall."

She snorted, the sound bitter. "What I want, I am never going to get," Zahra said, her voice brittle.

He took her in in more detail at that moment.

The simple green gown she wore, high necked and long sleeved...that long gown that did little to hide how thing she was. The dark brown hair, pulled into a braid, obviously trying to hide the pointed tips of her ears and failing...the way her skin, darker than all of her sisters, was nearly ashen.

They had all thought that she was doing well. That Zahra at least was adjusting well.

But she wasn't. She wasn’t doing better.  She hadn't adjusted. Azriel would bet anything that all she wanted in her life was to be human again.

She hadn't adjusted. She just acted in a way that didn't bother anybody, that didn’t spell trouble for anybody.  Zahra had gotten herself a job, managing the accounting at an apothecary in the city.  She had gotten herself a little cottage to rent. She didn’t go out and get drunk. She didn’t use any money from Rhys or Feyre. She showed up for family dinners, staying quiet and polite. 

And if she was miserable…well, then nobody cared, because she didn’t bother anybody. Azriel could understand that. The same was the case for him.

Azriel clenched his jaw, watching her quietly sitting here. The way she was trying to hide away. The dress that was more like a potato sack than anything else. The way her skin was almost...grey. That bitter voice. 

The shadows were stirring and he was unable to look away from her. She looks upset, Master, they told him helpfully. 

"Do you want to go home?" Azriel offered quietly. Home to her cottage? Maybe some peace and quiet would make her feel better. 

Zahra shrugged, not looking at him. Not giving him an inch. That wall of bitterness and sarcasm was so firmly in place, that it was practically a solid wall between them. 

“Don’t want to end like an indentured servant, remember?“ she quipped drily.

“You won’t,“ Azriel said evenly. “You had a headache. I brought you home.“

She still didn’t look at him, her hands tightly knotted into her skirts as she sat there. She was so thin, almost fragile-looking. Her skin was sickly grey. “Come on,” he said finally, walking towards her.

Zahra finally looked up at him. Those green eyes. A bitter and lonely light in them. “What are you doing?“ she muttered. 

“I’m bringing you home,” he said simply, holding out his hand. “Come on, get up.“

Zahra looked at his hand, her gaze wary. “Why?“ she asked quietly. 

“Because you look like you are about to keel over,” he said, more bluntly than intended. 

“Gee, thanks,” she said dryly, her voice sarcastic and bitter. But she placed her hand into his own and let him pull her to her feet, even though he could feel the tension in her entire body. 

Azriel wrapped his arm around her shoulders, steadying her. “Come on. Let’s get you home and into bed,” he said firmly. 

He led her towards the balcony, the last few streaks of light painting the sky, and he grasped her tightly as they shout these few feet into the air until he could winnow to the cottage she rented. 

It’s ugly, the shadows complained. 

He had to agree with them. The cottage was an ugly little thing. Plain. Small. The type of thing that was more of a hovel in the outskirts, rather than anything else. 

“Home sweet home,“ Zahra said dryly, pulling away from him and a key out of her purse. 

That cottage was in serious need of some renovations when the red paint that was flaking off the door was anything to go by. 

As she unlocked the door it became obvious that while she kept it clean and neat.. even that couldn’t help much. This is a hovel, the shadows hissed.

Azriel was inclined to agree. He looked around with a frown, as the shadows scuttered around the tiny cottage. “You live here?“ he couldn’t help but ask. It was a terrible hovel indeed. 

Zahra shrugged as if she didn’t notice the disgust in his voice. “I couldn’t exactly afford anything else at first,” she said drily. 

At least not without taking any money from Rhys and Feyre, and clearly that was nothing that Zahra wanted to do. 

He was struck by how empty it all looked. There was a small kitchen space, a table with a few chairs a fireplace… And the door that led to her bedroom, he assumed. 

“How long have you lived here?“ he asked carefully, taking in the bare emptiness. There were no pictures on the walls. No trinkets and little belongings anywhere. It was…lifeless. She shrugged again and kicked off her shoes, making her way towards the bedroom. “A year?“

The room was equally simple and bare. A bed, a few clothes. A little bathing chamber. That was it. 

“You’ve lived here for over a year?“ Azriel repeated, his voice turning sharp as he looked at everything. There wasn’t even a mirror on the wall. 

When she just shrugged again, he was done. He grabbed her arm and towed her back into the main room. “Stay,” he ordered, pointing at the table and one of the two rickety chairs. 

“What are you doing?“ Zahra asked, raising both eyebrows at him. Her irritation had started to rise considerably. At least that had done something to the sickly colour of her skin. 

“Making sure you eat something before you pass out on me,” Azriel muttered, turning back into the kitchen area, looking around with a frown.

There was…nothing. His shadows reported as much. She literally had a few pieces of bread and some cheese in the whole house. He was more than fuming. That was not enough that she was living in…this hovel, she was apparently also starving herself.

He pointed at the chair again. “Sit,” he ordered a little sharper than he had intended. 

The glare she gave him did not surprise him. Zahra hated being ordered around. “No,” she said firmly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not hungry.“

Azriel clenched his jaw, the anger flaring. How stubborn could she be? 

“You clearly haven’t eaten in days,” he said, pointing out the obvious. “You have nothing in your house to eat.” 

“I have what I need,” she retorted, her own anger flaring. Azriel gritted his teeth, the urge to snap at her almost overwhelming.

“You are skin and bones,” he hissed. “There is barely enough fat on you to keep out the cold.“ 

“Why do you care?“ she snapped right back.

The question hit him squarely in the chest. Why did he care? Why, he asked himself for a moment. Why indeed.

He wasn’t going to lie to himself and say that it was just because she was Feyre’s sister. 

Thankfully, Azriel was saved from actually having to answer, when her stomach grumbled.

Loudly. Azriel almost chuckled at the sound of her own stomach betraying just how hungry she really was. “Clearly your body disagrees with you,” he said drily. 

“Shut up,” Zahra snapped, her skin flushing at the sound of her own stomach. 

“I will shut up after you’ve eaten something,” Azriel said firmly, folding his arms across his chest.

Zahra gave him a glare that could strip the paint from the walls, (but then, the paint was already flaking off anyway). Still, she grudgingly sank down on the chair, her eyes avoiding his. 

He turned back into the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers and found absolutely nothing. There was nothing. Not even some fruits or vegetables. 

He slammed the last cupboard closed, almost causing the hinges to break, the anger flaring hotly in his chest. That stupid, stubborn, stubborn woman.

“I will personally come here every day and stuff you full until you burst,” he snapped before he could stop himself.

“Why?” she asked and he could hear the challenge in her voice. Her own anger rose to meet his own. “Why would you even bother?“ 

“Because you are starving yourself,” he said, spinning around to face her. “Because you are so thin, I could snap you in half with one hand. Because I’m pretty damn sure you haven’t eaten a proper meal in at least a year. That’s why.“

“Maybe I don’t deserve a proper meal,” she shot back and something inside of him snapped at the tone in her voice. 

Because he knew that feeling. He knew. For just a moment he froze. They were far more similar than they should be. 

It was a terrible realization. He knew what the self-hatred and bitterness was like. He understood it far better than he wanted to.

“Nobody is going to suddenly show up and care,” he told her quietly. He saw her eyes flare at the words and he knew she got the meaning behind them instantly.

She sat there, her jaw tensed. “And what do you know about it?” she snapped, her voice bitter. 

“I know what it feels like to starve oneself,” he said calmly. “I know what it feels like to have not a single person notice or care.“

The words rang truer than they should. Her eyes widened for a moment, shock flashing through her. 

“I know what it feels like to be the one be always at the edge of the family. I know what it feels like for everybody around me to meet their mate but not me.“

The words slipped out before he could stop them. The pain he had buried so deep, deep down flaring up. The pain and loneliness and bitter realization that would never have what everyone else had.

He realized only then how much they really had in common. How similar they were. 

“I know what it feels like to be the afterthought,” he continued, unable to stop now. “I know how it feels to be shoved aside. I know how it feels to watch everyone around me find someone while I’m the one left behind.“ 

He took a step closer to where she was sitting, towering over her. “And I know how it feels to hate myself enough to deny myself the basic needs I actually have.“ 

The last words made her flinch. He was so close he could almost see the pain and guilt and bitter realization flit across her face. Her eyes were on her lap, her fingers wrapped around the edge of the table. 

“I know what it feels like to feel as if I don’t deserve to eat,” he said quietly. “Because I’m not good enough. Not worthy enough. Not deserving enough.“

He knelt down in front of her, forcing her to look at him. To meet his eyes. 

She tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let her. He wanted her to see. To understand that she wasn’t as alone as she thought. “I know what it feels like to punish myself by not giving myself what I actually need,” he said quietly. 

Her breath hitched at the last words, her eyes widening ever so slightly. She was listening. Really listening to what he said.

“You’re not the only one who hates yourself, you know,” he said quietly. The look in her eyes shattered him. The look of realisation. Of bitter understanding. The realization that they were so much more similar than either of them had thought before.

Zahra bit her lip, the guilt flashing across her face. Her hands started trembling, ever so slightly.

“You don’t deserve to go hungry,” he said quietly, his voice firm and quiet. “You don’t deserve to starve yourself. You don’t deserve to live in this… hovel.

“The cauldron should just have killed me,” Zara said her voice brittle. “I don’t like this life.”

And didn’t that break his fucking heart? 

She laughed bitterly, but there was no humour in it. “I’m not even surviving,” she said, a bitter smile on her thin lips. “I’m existing. There is a difference.“ 

The words hit him hard. She was right. She didn’t survive, she just existed. There was a difference and a huge one at that. “Then stop just existing,” he said quietly.

His hand was still cupping her cheek, his thumb stroking gently over her skin. 

“Says the guy that just keeps moping around,” she quipped.

It was a low blow but also true. Azriel’s jaw tensed at the comment. “I don’t mope,” he bit. “I just..“

He didn’t really have a good argument in his defence at the moment. 

He sighed. “We should both stop rotting away,” he said drily.

“Yeah, well, that’s easy to you to say,” Zahra said and he could hear the bitterness in her voice. 

“Eat your cheese,” he responded.

She rolled her eyes and snatched away the slice of cheese off the table. “Happy now?“ she muttered. 

“Delighted,” he gave back drily, as he moved towards her fireplace.

“You don’t need to do that,” Zahra said quietly. “I can do that.”

“Considering you’ve been too starved to think straight, you are going to let me do this,” Azriel cut across her calmly. “You are more than likely to burn yourself.” 

“Don’t the flames bother you?” She asked him quietly. He froze.

Nobody else had ever asked him. They had just expected him to be over it by now. He had 500 years to be over it. His hands clenched.

“Yes,” he answered quietly. “They still do.” It was the honest truth. A truth he never told anyone before, least of all someone like her. The shadows curled around his shoulders and arms as if to calm him down. The flames still bothered him. They always would. “But I learnt to deal with it a long time ago,” he continued.

“That’s not fair to you,” Zahra said, her voice quiet. “You are always the one in discomfort. And nobody cares.”

Her words hit him square in the gut. It was true. It was painfully true. He was always the one being uncomfortable. Always the one on edge. It had always been expected of him to be over it by now, the pain and the hurt. The fear and the bitterness. 

He finished building the fire. Using a match to light it carefully, then closing the door quickly.

“I can deal with it,” he answered quietly. “You should go to sleep,” he advised her.

“So should you,” Zahra told him just as quietly. “You look terrible.“ He knew he looked like crap. But that didn’t matter. 

“I’m fine,” he muttered, brushing off her comment. Even though he knew it was a lie. Even though he knew they were both terrible at taking care of themselves. 

“You are a terrible liar,” she quipped. He looked at her and was surprised to see a tiny smile on her face. 

“And you’re a very stubborn, very stupid, very annoying woman,” he quipped back just as quietly. 

The smile on her face broadened the tiniest bit at the comment. “I could say the same about you,” she shot back. 

“Sleep,” he told her again.

And then he left that little cottage to get back to the House of Wind. He didn’t bother winnowing, instead, he shot up into the sky with one flap of his mighty wings. He wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.

His mind was whirling as he flew back to the House of Wind. So much had happened in the last few hours and it was all still a lot to process.

He had always been good at keeping a rein on his thoughts and his emotions. But this time, he simply couldn’t. 

Zahra and him, always on the outskirts of their family. Ignored and expected to get on with it.

They were so similar in so many ways. It was shocking to realize just how much they actually had in common.

The loneliness and solitude he had come to live with, she had experienced herself. The pain and the bitterness, he could recognize it on her, for he had felt it himself. 

Where are you, Az? Rhys demanded at that moment mentally. Azriel would like to scratch out his eyes, but he didn’t.

I’m flying back to the House, he sent back curtly. Zahra had a headache, so I brought her home.

A headache, Rhys shot back incredulously. Azriel could almost see the look on his High Lord’s face. You really think I will buy that?

I don’t care if you believe me or not, Azriel responded icily, his temper rising already at the tone. It is the truth and I really don’t wish to have a discussion over it.

There was a pause in Rhys’ mind. Then a slight huff. You can be so unbelievably stubborn sometimes, you know that?

Azriel didn’t bother reacting to that.

Elain and Lucien are figuring things out. So keep away from her, Rhys told him sharply.

I am keeping away from her, Azriel shot back, irritation flaring. You really think I will go and ruin this for her?

I don’t know what you are up to, Rhys retorted, and Azriel knew the High Lord was irritated. But I really don’t have the time to deal with your crap right now. That’s an order.

Understood, High Lord, Azriel snarled back and he felt Rhys chuckle in his mind at the tone. I will keep away from your precious Elain, I promise. 

Damn right you will, he heard Rhys mutter in his mind and the mental connection between the two of them snapped close. 

Azriel snarled in irritation as he landed on his balcony and stalked into his room. It wasn’t enough that he was wrestling with his own emotions, No, he also had Rhys all up his ass about it. 

And he was infuriated about the whole thing.

Nobody will suddenly show up and care, he has told Zahra. It was the truth. Nobody would care.

They only cared as long as they got what they wanted from him.

Chip away the pieces they didn’t like. Mould him into a person they could stomach. 

Either it was Rhys ordering to keep away from Elain…or ordering him to behave around Mor and Emerie… and to be quite honest…Azriel was done.

It was always him that needed to bend to make everybody else comfortable. Nobody bends for him.

So many years of following orders, of keeping his mouth shut, of bottling up the anger.

Even when everyone around him was getting what they wanted. They got their happily ever after. And he was left behind.  Not once did someone ever realize that he was struggling. Not once did someone notice that he needed something…anything. That he was hurting and in pain. Nobody even bothered to check on him, to ask how he was doing. 

They all got what they wanted. Mor, Emerie, even Feyre. They all got the mate that they wanted. Rhys, Cassian and even Amren had Varian. 

He was the one always helping everyone else. Always the one having to endure everything. Never anything for himself. No love for himself.

Orders, commands, demands…that’s all it ever was. He didn’t get a say in anything. They just expected him to be fine. And if he wasn’t…he had to push through it. 

He was the tool that did whatever needed to be done. The spy that got the order to do the dirty work. The shadowsinger that just had to endure everything. 

All for scraps of attention.

Azriel was done.

He was so done. With everything. With everyone. With the one-sided affection that he had given in a desperate attempt to feel…something, anything…. 

He needed to stop expecting to get anything from them.

Zahra did not. She seemed to have given that up a very long time ago

The cold realization that they had been doing the same to her hit him. She was also the tool they used when they needed it. She may not be a spy, but they used her just the same. Expected her to be fine. 

She was alone just as much as he was. 

Alone and isolated, an afterthought to their family just as much as he was. 

***

It was quiet in the little cottage. 

Peaceful. 

Comfortable.

Sie should be happy. Or at the very least…she should be content, should she not?.

Zahra had a roof over her head. And if she wanted to…she could afford food.

Her job didn’t pay that well, but it wouldn’t leave her starving. She just wasn’t hungry. She seemingly never was.

That was a lie and she knew it. Deep down she was hungry all the time. She just refused to give in to eating. She refused to listen to her body screaming for sustenance. It didn’t matter, anyway. Nobody cared.

She didn’t care.

Something inside her had broken during her bath in that cauldron. Her humanity had burned away and with that…with that everything Zahra had ever wanted.

She didn’t crave anything anymore. Not love. Not affection. Not attention. Not food. It was all gone. All she felt was numb. 

Cold, empty and numb. Like her shell had hardened and frozen over.

She had never thought it was possible to feel so damn tired without having done anything. 

Zahra forced herself to get up. Forced herself to heat some water on the stove… to make tea. The cheapest tea she had been able to find at the market.

It wasn’t the best. The taste was bitter and the color was more brown than black. But it was tea and she was thirsty enough to drink it.

It wasn’t very warm and left a bitter aftertaste on the tongue. Like her life itself. 

Maybe just dying would have been easier, she reflected bitterly. Was this how eternity would feel? Alone? Tucked away in this cottage? 

All her sisters had been given a mating bond. They had been given another person who loved them unconditionally…that was at their side. That wanted them around. That wanted to spent time with them. 

And then there was her. 

She had been closest to Feyre during the years in that cottage. Nesta gave her the fault for seemingly everything htat had ever gone wrong in her life, though Zahra privately thought that for Nesta, Zahra was just the evidence of another of her father’s failings…Elain…well, Elain was more embarrassed than anything about Zahra’s very existence. But Feyre…well, Feyre hadn’t cared. And so Zahra had tried to dote on her as much as she could. 

And then clearly she had been replaced in Feyre’s affections. 

She didn’t fault her for that. 

Feyre had made her own life. And she had every right to do that. She was busy with her mate and her son and Mor was her best friend and…there was seemingly no place for Zahra there. 

Which was fine. 

It was. 

But if Zahra was completely honest with herself…she was unspeakably jealous of the mating bond of every single one of her sisters. 

Of that promise of at least one person that would be on her side, come Hel or High Water. 

Clearly, something was wrong with her that she hadn’t been given a Mating Bond.

She wasn’t worth a mate. Clearly, something was broken inside her. Otherwise, the cauldron would have given her a mate, right? 

Maybe she was broken so thoroughly that nobody even wanted her. 

Why would they? She was a shell of a person, a ghost of the woman she was supposed to be.

She was cold, empty and numb. Everything that nobody could possibly want. 

Everyone else got a mate, love and happiness. Not her.

She had nothing.

Her hands clenched around her lukewarm cup of tea. 

Some random sparks of light sparked against the mug. A gift from the cauldron. They didn’t seem to do anything but warm whatever they touched. Maybe that was that random power the cauldron had given her. Neither future or death…but…warmth. She supposed it was something.

She wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, and she had never bothered telling anybody about it. 

Sometimes she allowed herself to play with them when she couldn’t sleep. They were strange and utterly useless. 

It wasn’t the power of foresight or the power of a death god…no. She had the stupid power to create sparks. Useless sparks of light. 

Oh well. 

Complaining about her sparks wasn’t going to help her either. 

So she pulled out her work and sat down to do her work as the sun came up and the day went on. 

Zahra balanced the account ledgers for one of the apothecaries in Velaris. Which meant she had a whole box of receipts to sort through and put into said ledger.

One receipt at a time, one name after the other. 

It kept her busy. It paid well enough. She seemed to have some kind of aptitude for it…maybe the fact that her father was a merchant had come through for once. 

She worked until the late evening. Until her eyes couldn’t concentrate on the numbers anymore.Until her back and shoulders ached with pain. She stretched her shoulders back. 

She wondered if she should eat something. Her cheese was gone, thanks to Azriel standing over her until she ate it…but she still had one or two slices of bread, didn’t she? 

She could go food shopping…buy another bread, another chunk of cheese tomorrow. 

Then Zahra heard a knock on the door. 

Confusion spread through her. Who would knock on her door at that very late hour? It was after 9 pm already. 

She got up, walked towards the door and opened it carefully.

It was the last person she would expected to be standing on the front porch. Azriel. 

“I am making you dinner.“

Her eyes widened at that announcement. “You are what?” she asked him dumbly. 

He just gave her a deadpan look and pushed past her. “I am cooking dinner because I am assuming that you haven’t eaten yet,” he told her plainly. 

It was true. Zahra hadn’t eaten a proper meal in god knows how long. But why did he care?? “Why?” she blurted out. “Why do you care if I’ve eaten?” 

He gave her a sharp look and pushed her towards the kitchen chair. “Sit down,” he simply ordered and she was too taken aback to protest against it. 

He had brought his own ingredients. His own knives, all tucked away in a little basket that he put on her countertop. “Can you peel potatoes?” He asked her as he rummaged through it. 

She could just stare at him. 

“Who do you think cooked the meat Feyre hunted?” Zahra replied drily.

Azriel froze in the process of digging something out of the basket on the counter. “You can cook?” he asked her and she heard the surprise in his voice. 

Zahra let out a snort. “Yes, I can cook,” she retorted. “What did you think I was doing this whole time in the cottage? Twiddling my thumbs?” 

He shrugged. “Honestly, I had no idea what you were up to,” he told her truthfully.  “I thought you were as useless as Elain and Nesta were at that point,” he admitted.

“Nesta did all the cleaning and hacked the wook,” Zara corrected him quietly. “Elain mended. I cooked. Feyre was the only one who hunted. And yes, we should have done more, but I did help run the household. The only one who never helped was our father.” The bitterness bled into her voice at that. 

There was a long pause after her admission. Then Azriel exhaled. “I guess I shouldn’t be as surprised as I am,” he muttered. “You don’t strike me as a pampered useless damsel.” 

“Thank you for that assessment, Shadowsinger,” she quipped back. “I will make sure to remember it when I need a pick-me-up.” 

He put a sack of potatoes in front of her. “I take it I’m peeling potatoes,” Zahra murmured, staring at the sack that was in front of her.

“Yes,” Azriel confirmed in that no-nonsense voice of his. “While I prep the meat. I do hope you like rabbit,” he added drily.

“Oh good,” she muttered, grabbing a knife and started to peel away at the potatoes. “Did you hunt it?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, his voice neutral. Zahra bit back a snarky remark and focused on the potatoes. 

They worked like that in silence. Him preparing the meat, her peeling the potatoes and the carrots.

It was odd. This whole thing was odd. Sitting and cooking with Azriel. She hadn’t even known he could cook. 

And yet…it was comfortable. Like the silence wasn’t awkward and neither of them felt the need to break it. It was a comfortable domestic kind of silence. Like they had done this a thousand times before. 

“How are you with spicy food?” Azriel asked her after he had taken the potatoes from her. 

Zahra blinked in surprise. “I have a pretty good tolerance, why?” she asked, curious. 

“All the food I can cook is Illyrian,” Azriel answered drily. “I learned from Rhys’ mother and later from my own. It’s spicy.”

“I can handle a bit of spice,” she assured him. “It should be fine.” He nodded in response. 

The sound of the fire crackling in the stove and him stirring up the meat were the only sounds filling the kitchen as they continued their work. 

Zahra honestly had no idea Azriel could cook. He didn’t seem like the type of male who spent time cooped up in the kitchen, making meals. It was a little surprising. 

And yet, the scents of spices and rabbit were filling her kitchen right now... It smelled almost heavenly. 

She hadn’t smelled something as heavenly in a long time. And her stomach growled in response to the delicious scents of food. Zahra tried to remember when she’d last eaten something actually decent, but she couldn’t think straight. The food was distracting her.

“You look half starved,” Azriel observed in a deadpanned tone and she snapped her head up only to find him looking at her. 

His eyes were focused on her, a frown playing on his forehead. “When was the last time you actually ate something properly?” he asked her, his voice firm. 

She averted her gaze. “I don’t know,” she muttered, looking away from him and to the pot bubbling on the stove. “Maybe a week ago?” 

He was silent for a moment. “That long?” he asked her, his voice carefully neutral. She just shrugged in response to keep herself from admitting that she actually couldn’t remember exactly. 

He poured hot, thick stew into a bowl for her and then put it in front of her, holding out cutlery for her to take. “Why are you doing this?” Zahra asked him weakly.

“Because I wish somehow had done it for me,” Azriel responded

That simple statement made her blink in surprise. It was not an answer she had been expecting. She bit her lip, not really sure what to say. 

And then he simply said. “Eat. You look like you’d blow away at the slightest breeze.”

She should have been angered by that blunt statement, but somehow she wasn’t. 

So Zahra ate.

The food tasted incredibly good. She had to admit that the Shadowsinger was talented with cooking. The food was spiced just perfectly, hot and filled with flavour. 

Every bite made her realize just how incredibly hungry she was. Her stomach filled slowly and the hunger abated with every spoonful. It was like her insides started to come back to life. The numbness was slowly disappearing, replaced by an odd sort of warmth flowing through her limbs. 

"Thank you," she finally said weakly.

Azriel just nodded at her, watching her eat. “Of course,” he murmured and continued with his own food. 

[kitten4sannie]

ᴀ ꜱᴍᴀʟʟ ᴀᴅᴊᴜꜱᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ

ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ/ᴀᴜʀᴀʟɪꜱᴍ ➠ ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ

pairing: personal trainer! yeosang x fem! reader

genre: pure smut

summary: you love your weekly visits with your personal trainer. he always stretches you out just right.

w.c: 2.4k

warnings: mean(ish) dom! yeo, sub! reader, 15 year age gap, seduction, teasing, sir kink, dirty talk, praise/degradation, pet names/name calling, auralism, groping, half dressed kink ig?, cumming untouched, oral (receiving), fingering, squirting, brief deep throating, unprotected sex on a yoga mat, creampie

a/n: i done lost it guys TT just imagining having messy sex with mean dilf yeo somehow adds and takes off ten years of my life at the same time like some pemdas shit aughhh… i hope you enjoy this filthy mess <33

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ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

“What do you mean you’re breaking up with me?” you gasped into your phone, holding a hand against your chest, personally offended that your boyfriend of six months would suggest such a thing. “And what about my personal trainer? He’s like fifteen years older than me. Baby. You really think I would do that to you?” 

“Y/N, I’ve seen him with my own eyes. I know you’re fucking him, and I’m over it. It’s over,” your boyfriend repeated into your ear, just ripping the bandaid off then and there. 

“You can’t do that. We’re not breaking up,” you scoffed, wrapping a lock of your hair around your finger, your lips forming a pout. “Babyyy, come on, you’re being so dumb right now.” 

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he quickly said, before hanging up. 

“Ugh.” Pissed off, you tossed your phone onto your canopy style bed, knocking one of your limited edition plushies off and onto the carpeted floor in the process. You turned to your full length mirror, glaring back at your scrunched-up face, your hands formed into fists near your tiny tennis skirt. “If he thinks I’m fucking my personal trainer, then I’ll fuck my personal trainer, alright.”

And so, your petty, self-righteous plan of spiteful revenge was set. You were a smart girl. You knew exactly what to do to get your ridiculously sexy personal trainer to break his professional and moral codes. All you had to do was wear something impossibly tight without anything underneath and moan a little louder when he was stretching you out. It was as simple as that. Right? 

࿏࿏࿏

Yeosang was everything a woman desired, all the way down to his persistent ability to respect them. He respected you, almost too much in your opinion. Here you were bent over in a ‘stretching position’ right in front of him, wearing a too-tight pair of gray leggings and the tiniest sports bra known to man, knowing damn well he could see the way you had your tits all pushed together for his viewing pleasure in the mirror, yet his eyes remained on yours. 

“How does it feel, Y/N? Are you tight anywhere like last time?” Yeosang asked, his voice, like dripping honey, filled your body with a comforting warmth. He studied your stretching form, one hand resting comfortably underneath his scruffy chin, the other on his hip. 

Your knees trembled slightly underneath you, urging you to return to a resting position, eventually sitting on your knees. You looked up to him, your eyelids lowering slightly, a pout on your glossy lips. “Really tight, yeah. I think I need help, Yeo…” 

“Then, I need you to lay down on your back for me,” he replied in a soft, though stern tone that made your cunt pulse, getting down onto his knees beside you with a small grunt. “Show me where, Y/N. You can do that, yeah?” 

Just as you laid down on the yoga mat, a fresh wave of slick slipped out of you. Damn him. He should be getting worked up over you, not the other way around. How would it be an act of petty revenge if you were soaking wet just from hearing your personal trainer’s absurdly sexy voice? 

“Nnngh, it’s right here…” you exhaled, feeling out your stiff hips, looking up at him past your lashes. “I need some stretching out, I think.” 

“Mm, I see. Well, let’s get you taken care of,” Yeosang nodded as his lips curled up into a somewhat mischievous smile, positioning himself so that he was in between your spread legs, wrapping his hands around one of your thighs and gently pushing it down towards your body, causing you to gasp. “Just relax for me, sweetheart…that’s it…” 

You were about to lose your mind, trying harder and harder not to let out a pornograhic moan the more Yeosang pushed his body weight onto you, your lower halves practically flush together. You wondered if he could feel how wet you were through your leggings, knowing there were no panties to catch your slick. “Yeosang…fuck…” 

Yeosang pushed down a little further, nodding his head apologetically. “I know, sweetheart, I know it hurts, but it’ll be worth it,” He gave you a charming smile, his fingers squeezing into the flesh of your thigh, pushing you down further, until the ache of your muscles matched the ache inside your cunt. “Still hurts?” 

“No, it feels good now, keep going, Yeo,” you sighed out, your eyes glazing over with lust, gently running your hand over his, sensing a hint of desire when it began to peer through Yeosang’s own lingering gaze, his hands moving towards your other thigh, beginning to give it the same treatment. 

“That’s a good girl,” Yeosang praised innocently enough, pressing your other thigh down against your body, leaning his body weight on you just enough to drive you mad, you cunt clenching around nothing. His other hand slipped around your opposite hip, expertly massaging it around with his calloused fingers. “Mm, you’re almost there. Just a little more…” 

“Yes, sir,” you sighed out, swearing you heard Yeosang’s breath get caught inside his throat just as soon as you felt something hard and heavy forming against your lower abdomen, hoping you weren’t just imagining it with your overheated brain. “I’m still so tight, Yeo…be gentle…” 

Yeosang bit into his bottom lip, coming to terms with your current shared predicament, wondering if you were both on the same page, but not fully knowing if he should cross several professional boundaries or not. Regardless, here he was, already pressing his stiff erection into his very young, very horny client’s cunt through her soaked leggings. What did he have to lose? His license maybe, and the respect of his peers perhaps, but it was worth the risk, especially now that most of the blood in his body had left his brain and filled up his heavy cock.

“Gentle, huh?” he chuckled deeply, pulling back slightly to admire the sight of your soaked cunt through your slick-stained leggings. “Sure you don’t want it rough, considering the way you’ve been dripping for me this entire time?” He ran two fingers down the legging seam that separated your puffy folds, rubbing them into your clit, making you let out another gasp. “Thought you could hide this from me, did you? I could feel how wet you were getting…”

“Fuck– Nooo, Yeo, I just wanted you to see it for yourself,” you answered whinily, spreading your legs open just a little wider, grabbing at the waistline of your leggings to make the shape of your cunt more pronounced, your pout returning. “Do you like it, sir?”  

“Jesus, of course I do. My slutty little client shows off her wet cunt and thinks I wouldn’t like it? Huh? Did you think I would be able to hold myself back?” Yeosang shook his head out of disbelief of his insane luck, taking his time running his calloused fingers up and down your clothed slit, admiring the way the material formed to the shape of it. 

Fuck it. You were too desperate now to reclaim any semblance of control over the situation, your act of personal revenge long forgotten, your mind only having enough space in it to think about Yeosang and getting used by him.

“I did it because I want to be your slut, Yeo. Please? Can I? I’ll be so good for you.” You began to move your hips along with his movements, in desperate need of more friction, more pleasure at your disposal, begging him with your glistening doe eyes. 

“Of course you can be my little slut, princess. You already are. I mean, just look at you, whoring yourself out for your personal trainer like this,” Yeosang groaned out, just as he lifted your ass up into the air by your hips, licking his lips. “I’ll make you mine, sweetheart.” And with that, he tore your leggings open just enough to expose your leaking cunt, leaning down slightly to take a deep inhale of your warm, flowery scent. “God, you’re completely soaked for me, Y/N. You’ve been wanting this so bad, haven’t you? Just dreaming about my tongue inside this tight hole of yours, huh?” 

“Yess, oh my god, please eat me out, Yeo, I’m begging,” you squeaked out from below him, already teary-eyed, ready to beg on your knees for the older man’s attention if you had to. 

Yeosang took an experimental lick up your cunt, already collecting enough slick inside his mouth for him to swallow down happily, idly working your clit with two agile fingers. “Do you play with your little clit like this and think of me before you go to sleep at night, Y/N?” he asked huskily against your cunt, beginning to lap at your leaking hole, teasing it with his tongue. “Huh? Do you think about me stretching you out with my tongue? With my cock?” 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you moaned, just as Yeosang’s tongue fully slid inside you to rub at your inner walls, tongue-fucking you in a ravenous manner, his fingers still flicking at and squeezing your clit, your juices dripping down the lower-half of his face. “Fuck…! Yeosang…!” 

“Uh-huhhh…” he moaned into you, sending pleasurable vibrations through your cunt, eventually replacing his tongue with two more fingers, fucking you so quickly, you couldn’t even get a chance to breathe. “That’s it, baby, you’re so close, aren’t you? Going to squirt for me, yeah? Is my slut going to cum all over my face?” 

“Yes–fuck, Yeo–” you could barely call out, your muscles tightening suddenly, your lower half pulsing more and more until you let out an involuntary cry, clear liquid squirting out of you and pouring onto Yeosang’s face, spilling onto the yoga mat, and soaking into the material of your torn leggings, some dripping along your abdomen.  

“Oh my god, that’s a gooood girl, look at you…” Yeosang praised shakily, gently slurping up your squirt from your twitching cunt, moaning into it, his softening cock resting against his cum-covered inner thigh. “What a good little slut you are, Y/N.” 

“Good enough for cock?” you simply asked from below, reaching up to spread your cunt apart further for him, all while gazing up at him with barely open eyes, still swimming in your post orgasm bliss. “Wanna be stuffed, Yeo. Please?”  

Your adorably filthy behavior alone made Yeosang harder than he’s been in a long time, making him want to join in on the fun. He wasted no time positioning himself so that his knees were on either side of your head, slowly lowering his joggers until his long, veiny cock sprung out in front of your face. “I think you should drool on my cock for me first, princess. Maybe take it down that pretty throat of yours. Sound good?”

“Yes, sir,” you obeyed, opening your mouth wide enough to take what you could of Yeosang’s impressive length inside, gagging immediately when he began to fuck into your throat, dribbles of spit leaking down your chin. “Mmmfff…” 

Gutteral groans routinely escaped Yeosang’s throat, continuing to pump himself into your mouth, unable to release himself from the tight, warm confines of your now bulging throat. “God, you’re taking me so fucking well, princess. Wish I could watch you swallow my load down…” He suddenly pulled out, resting the tip of his heavy cock on your saliva-streaked lips, letting you lazily lap up the beads of pre-cum that spilled from it. “Gotta fuck you, though. I know that slutty cunt needs to be filled with cock.” 

“Fuck, yes, sir, give it to me,” you purred against his cockhead, sucking and slurping on it like it was candy, only stopping when he pulled away to lower himself down your body, until his cock was slowly pressing into your willing hole instead. 

“Doesn’t matter whose cock, huh?” he asked in his low, honey-like voice, wrapping his fingers around your hips, massaging into them like before, only this time he was sliding you onto his pulsing length little by little until he had completely bottomed out inside. 

“Mm-hm. I love cock, especially yours, Yeo,” you admitted breathily, the shame you felt only increasing your arousal, barely able to hook your thighs around his waist when he began to quickly pump himself into you, your hole swallowing his thick cock up each time.

“You’ll let a–fuck–older guy…someone who’s your personal trainer…nnngh…use you like their own personal cum dump and–” He pulled out suddenly, only to plunge himself deep into your cunt, making you cry out. “–pump you full of his cum as long as you’re getting stuffed and bred. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Uh-huh…!” you cried, unable to keep yourself from moaning and whining each time Yeosang slammed himself into you. “Fuck me like the slut I am…Please, sir…” 

“Oh godd, I’m gonna fuck you so hard, Y/N, gonna fuck your goddamn brains out,” Yeosang gruffed out in between brutal thrusts, resorting to grabbing and holding your wrists down so that you couldn’t get away from him, drilling his aching cock into your squelching hole like he was getting paid to do it, which he technically was. Life was good for Yeosang.

Yeosang did indeed fuck your brains out. He fucked you until you didn’t know which way was up or down. The only thing that brought you back to reality was something warm and thick gushing inside you, Yeosang’s calloused hand holding your own down against your abdomen, his nasty words barely reaching your hazy mind. 

“You feel that, princess? All the cum I’m filling this whore-hole up with?” he asked you softly in between harsh pants, a few beads of sweat sliding down his sharp chin and landing onto your flushed face. 

You could hardly move, let alone form a coherent sentence. “Yes, yes, yes…” 

“I want to see it…Want you to see what I’ve done to you.” Yeosang slowly pulled out of you, milking the tip of his cock, groaning softly, leaving a few more spurts of his load on your puffy cunt, a few drops of it getting onto the torn hole inside your leggings. 

He gently turned you around, so that you were facing the mirror on the wall, reaching past your spread thighs to spread open your cunt with his thumbs, laying his lips against your ear, “Look. You got cum leaking out of you, your leggings are all torn up, and you got squirt all over the mat too...Do you see what a mess you’ve become for me, Y/N?” 

“Yeah, I see, Yeo. I love it…” You gazed at his hazy reflection in the mirror with hearts in your eyes, wishing you had seduced your personal trainer at an earlier date. 

Inhaling your flowery scent once more, Yeosang pressed a kiss onto your cheek, nuzzling it. “That’s my girl.” He tilted his head to the side, his hands rubbing into your sore hips. “Same time next week?” 

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[sillyuin]

if your requests are in, I was wondering who in Svt would give u up for friendship and who would fight for u till the end ( if two of the members were interested in someone). I really like your style of writing and think it’s super super cute so I would love it if you could make this idea come to life: thank you and keep writing xxx🫶🏽

Hi anon! Sorry for keep you waiting but here it is. I struggled a little bc is the first time writing something likes this, but it was also fun, thank you ♥

Seventeen reactions (ot13) - Fight or Flight?

Yuin's note: barely proofread. I'm still stuck with write's block so I don't know how my attempt at comedy turned out.

Scoups: He’d be troubled. Seungcheol really, really wants to be with you and thinking about losing you is something that just can’t think of. So, he would just let it flow, no matter how hard it was, and do his best not to lose his mind. (but we all know he already did it and he’d kill to have you just for him).

Jeonghan: He'd be with a "I’ve got this” attitude and like he trust himself, but lowkey, Jeonghan is terrified about what could happen. This is not a Going Seventeen episode (and he hates to admit it) so he just can’t cheat like is a game, but probably will use all the cards he has up his sleeve.

Joshua: Maybe he has too much self-confidence or just don’t want to rush things over, but Joshua would be very chill about it. He will be your friend no matter what happens and will be there whenever you need him, so what happens it’s completely up to you. Good luck!

Jun: That would be a big surprise, not a pleasant one, and saying that he's just distressed is little for how he'd really feels about it. Jun loves you as you are, but he needs some space to collect his thoughts so he might be a distant for a time :(

Hoshi: Okay, this man would do anything for you so he won't give in so easily. Hoshi doesn’t matter anyone but you, so he will exhaust all the resources available to him, but also trying his best not to overwhelm you in the process (and we all know he’s fighting for his life lol).

Wonwoo: He'd prefer staying in his comfort zone and is okay with just a friendship, letting the path clear for the other person but also leaving the door open. (As soon as he's alone he would drown his sorrows by playing animal crossing and dissociating).

Woozi: Just like Wonwoo he'd prefer to keep it as a friendship, a little of you is better than nothing, open to possibilities but also without really looking for them. However, we all know him and would be so blue that will probably write a song about it (the next SOFT if you ask me).

Minghao: Despairing will not help and he knows that, so he'd try to push further than a friendship. Hao is patient but also dedicated, the last thing he wants is to do something that might hurt you, the best option is to walk at a slow and safe pace.

Dokyeom: Ugh, that would break his heart, he can't imagine his world without you but at the same time, Dokyeom knows that he can't tie you. So, whatever makes you happy would make him happy too... At least on the surface (We all know he'd be tossing and turning in bed trying not to think about it).

Mingyu: Sulky Mingyu just entered the chat because yes, a situation like that is very frustrating. But on the top of that is you. So, as long as you follow your heart, he would respect that decision, lowkey crossing his fingers behind his back for you to choose him.

Seungkwan: Probably too much for him to handle. Seungkwan would feel his emotions on the surface, unable to think properly. He'd prefer to step back for a time, maybe some days, at least until he can look at the others without looking like he wants to slap them.

Vernon: He wouldn't flinch we all know that for sure lol. He enjoys spending time with you and your silly jokes always makes his days a little brighter. No matter what happens, Vernon would be there to share more happy memories with you.

Dino: He'd probably freak out and scream on the inside because a love triangle wasn't on his bingo for this year. However, he's not quitting. If you end up just being friends then he will accept it, but no one can say that Chan wouldn't give his best to get you

[prettyg00dtime]

i saw her. my best friends younger sister exiting from a bar she didn’t have any business being in. it’s a coincidence i’d seen her. I was out late and watched her stumbling drunk out the door alone. so i did what any respectable man would do and helped her to the backseat of my car. she didn’t even recognize who i was in that state, practically asleep before i tossed her on the seats.

I was going to take her home, obviously. but i kept glancing at her back there.. on her back, clearly passed the fuck out. i kept thinking about how hot she’d gotten. I’d watched the development myself; i’d been friends with her brother for years and watched her grow. for fucks sake, she was practically my sister as well.

that didn’t stop my dirty thoughts in the slightest. I tried to reason with myself, do the right thing, but next thing I knew i was pulling into a darkened isolated parking lot and stepping out of the car. I opened the back door and looked at her. legs spread, dress tight. I shouldn’t be doing this. I should be taking her home.

Against reason, I turned the overhead light on for a better view. she didn’t stir. slowly, i slid her dress up her thighs and around her stomach, pulling out my phone to take a photo. no harm in this. she would never even know… i snapped a few pictures, then tugged the top of her strapless dress down to get pictures of her tits as well. i rubbed my finger across her nipple and watched it harden, then did the same the the other. this was so wrong but i couldn’t stop taking pictures.

I couldn’t stop myself from rubbing her pussy slightly through her panties with my thumb. she moved a little and i pulled away, but when she remained passed out i continued, taking a video on my phone as I did. i rubbed up and down and across her clit, rubbing in circles, and felt the moistness on my fingers. she was getting so fucking wet I could feel it through her panties. I knew it was wrong but stop when i pulled them to the side, taking a video of my fingers against her slick hole in full view. She was soaking. i slid a finger into her, taken back by how tight she was, then another.

I fingered her for a few minutes, listening to her light moans, but knew I had to stop. this was so fucking wrong. what was wrong with me. my best friend would never forgive me if he found out and neither would she.

I knew this but still set my recording phone on the middle console to capture as I slid her dress and panties off her body and tossed them to my car floor. I looked around to ensure the parking lot was empty and slipped all my clothes of too. I wanted to feel her skin against mine. that was all. i wasn’t going to take it any farther.

I climbed on top of her and slid the head of my cock against her wet little cunt, massaging her clit. what’s the harm in just sliding the tip inside her? she would never know. and i was so hard thinking about her tightness now I could come at any second. I started fucking her with just the tip, and her tight pussy felt like it was sucking me in. I closed my eyes to take her in, and incidentally with each stroke I got deeper inside her until my balls were against her ass. well, i got this far. might as well go all the way.

I let out a deep groan as I started fucking her. I grabbed under each of her thighs and crushed her into mating press, stroking deep inside her. I was so lost in how she clenched around me I didn’t notice her waking up until she had both hands on my shoulders, pushing as hard as her drunken self could.

“carter..? what are you doing! stop get off me!”

I fucked harder into her, unable to grasp even a little regret for my actions. “mhh. I can’t. I’m sorry I can’t. I couldn’t help myself. fuck oh my god you’re taking me so deep”

we both watched my cock slide as deep as possible, and I grinded against her clit as she pulsated around me. she was shaking her head, beginning to cry. “you have to stop please, i don’t want this”

“god sweet little pussy. so tight and fuckable. you feel so good around me. i needed to fuck you. you got so wet when i touched you.”

I stroked into her harder, feeling her cunt wrap around me tighter despite her cries for me to stop. she banged against my chest, pushing with the all her might and i felt her pussy get even more slippery. she could do nothing but cry and watch as I pounded her. i leaned down and ran my tongue over her nipple as she thrashed.

“You like this shit, don’t you? listen to how sloppy your pussy sounds”

she arched against my chest with those words, crying tears of sorrow as she came hard all over my rapist cock. i knew she liked it.

“oh yeah good fuck doll. cum all over my dick.”

she looked humiliated as she rode out her orgasm, accidentally grinding her pussy against me and forcing me even deeper.

I tightened my grip on her thighs, fucking into her with everything I had in me. I could see the remnants of her cum coating my dick. “Creamy little pussy. I’m going to make it fucking creamier.”

When she heard that, she started screaming, flailing her pinned legs and shoving against me. “no no no! carter you can’t! please get off me please! you can’t do this, i’m not on birth control please!”

I didn’t slow down. “fuckk i can’t stop myself. you’re milking me so tight. I’m going to drain my balls in you.”

“please don’t do this! i’m begging you”

“I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant”

I slammed against her and unloaded years of friendly tension into her cunt, pressing in multiple times and not stopping until I was sure it was all stuffed against her cervix. I grinded into her for a few seconds to feel her clenching around me, drinking in my cum. before I slipped off her and grabbed my phone from my middle console, ensuring i’d gotten the creampie on tape. i tossed her dress over her body. she hadn’t moved from on her back.

“get dressed, whore. you don’t want your brother to see you like that when i drop you off at home.”

[pheonixgrave]

Ignore It (18+)

This is really my first time posting a story to here, I usually only do it to AO3, but this is what I made this account for. Might as well start using it?

WARNINGS: Heavy smut, corruption kink, mild blood kink? (not sure about that one) Fem Tav, hetero relationship, stress fucking, not beta'd, angst, use of cunt

Smut blow the cut, please enjoy!!

Trekking through the wilderness was exhausting as is. But the bickering? That was starting to drive Tav crazy. Vampire this. Shar that. Eating magic this. Demons that. It was always something else. No matter what she did, they were always at each other’s throats. Oh the irony in that. Maybe the Illithid worm wasn’t the worst thing. Maybe this, the arguing, was the worst thing to happen to her. If she had to hear any Githyanki phrases in the next thirty minutes, she might kill Lae’zel herself. Tav was at her wits end, ready to beat her head against the nearest tree just to see if that got rid of the tadpole. It would be a win-win if it also got everyone else to shut up. 

They didn’t even let up at camp. Sure, they all had their respective tents and spaces. But the glaring. Oh, the glaring! Not a moment of peace before bed. She sat near her bedroll, closer to the fire Gale had set up. A tankard in hand, her back to the more vocal members of the party. She could practically hear Lae’zel glaring at Astarion. And Shadowheart wasn't exactly quiet about her distaste for him either. It’s not like there was an Infernal being less than ten yards away from him. Or a Warlock just across the flames. 

She very quickly downed the rest of her drink before tossing the tankard near the flames. Curling up in her bedroll, she tried to block out all of the noise and barbed words. It was currently taking everything in her to not scream at her first three companions. They had all been through something insane and deadly. Why could they not have it in them to simply get along? It felt impossible. 

Fortunately, her sour mood was noticed by her party. Not that she’d realize it at the moment. The biggest point of contention, Astarion, managed to get the courage to walk up to their fearless, albeit grumpy, leader. He nudged her with his foot. Which he immediately realized was a bad decision. Taz shot up to meet his eyes in the blink of an eye. “What do you want?”

The bite in her voice was unmistakable. But he knew how to handle it. “I want-”

“Don’t bother,” she cut him off. She never cut him off. She was more than happy to let him talk at her sometimes. The final glare she gave him was intense as she stalked towards the lake, away from everybody else. Astarion watched her walk away. Did he only watch to see her hips sway? Absolutely. But that didn’t change the fact that the Bard needed to relax. He smiled to himself before following her. “Didn’t I say don’t bother? I’m not in the mood to be your midnight snack tonight.” 

He didn’t fail to match her step. “Why darling! Do you truly think so little of me?” He pouted. 

Tav just sighed, “Take your antics somewhere else for now, Astarion.”

“Will you just sit down?” He pushed on her shoulders, forcing her down.

Much to the rest of the party's dismay, she did trust the vampire. Whether that would lead her to her own doom was yet to be seen.

Her knees crumbled under the pressure as she fell on the ground. She shot another glare in his direction but that didn’t seem to dissuade him from his plan.

“You’ve been far too stressed today, darling.” He purred in her ear, his hands never leaving her shoulders. 

“Astarion?” He continued to move her body until she was on her stomach.

“Shhh, do you trust me?” Gods, that man was always far too much for Tav.

“Should I?”

He chuckled as he readjusted himself so he was sitting on the back of her thighs, straddling her. It took every ounce of self restraint he had to not immediately rub her ass. Gods, it always looked so perfect when she walked. He took a deep breath before applying pressure between her shoulder blades. He felt her body tense before slowly relaxing. 

It wasn’t what she expected. Was he giving her a massage? His hands worked slowly from the base of her neck to her waist. And-oh? Did she just moan? 

“It’s alright, my dear, I love hearing you.” He smirked before continuing his work. He continued like that for a few moments, just enjoying the little sounds she was making. “Let's get you out of these clothes, shall we?”

She pushed him off her, rolling on her back and sitting up. “So that’s what this was? Just an excuse to get me naked?” That fire was coming back.

“Darling, if I was trying to get into your pants, I’d try flattering you more first. Unfortunately, it is difficult to get this right over your clothes.” He sat next to her, staring out at the water, just watching the water crash against the coast. “I was taught how to do this a long, long time ago.”

She stared at the rogue before swallowing. The tips of her ears and the back of her neck were flushed. But she did trust him. He would say if this was untoward. Right? With a shaky breath, she sighed but said “Alright.” 

Astarion watched her shaky hands start to untie the little knots holding her bustier. His mouth started to water, but he had patience. As she shrugged the last of her tunic off, she covered her chest and turned the other way. He did manage to lay down her tunic so she wasn’t just laying on the dirt anymore. She laid herself in front of him. He could feel how shaky her breath still was as he climbed on top of her once more. 

He resumed his previous work, addressing the knots in her lower back. The elf’s skin was so soft, so warm. He found himself just getting lost in the feeling of someone trusting him. It was a strange feeling but a welcome one. 

Tav, on the other hand, was getting lost in his touch. His cold hands worked their way up her back and she liked it far more than she thought she would. What started off as little moans slowly became louder. It didn’t help that he was an expert with his hands. And her mind started to trail off to things that were unbecoming of a lady.

But Astarion could feel her thighs clench. No matter how she tried to move without him noticing too much. Gods, he could almost smell her arousal. Over 200 years old and here he was, still trying to keep himself from getting hard. But then she moaned his name. And what little restraint he had disappeared. He put his hands near her head before leaning down towards her ear. “This wasn’t an excuse to see you naked but you are making it very hard to not act on my…baser impulses, my dear.” He felt the shiver go down her spine. 

“Astarion,” she moaned again before grinding back on him. And she got what she wanted when he flipped her on her back without moving from his spot. And there she was, laid out in front of a vampire spawn with her chest bare. She looked up at him with wide eyes, unsure how to go from there. But him? He had far more experience than most. He moved faster than she thought. He captured her lips as he slotted himself between her thighs. And just like that, his hands were everywhere. 

It was like he couldn’t decide where he liked them best. Her throat? Her breasts? Her hips so he could grind against her? He just couldn’t decide. And she tried so hard to keep herself quiet. But then he moved his lips down her neck, his fangs brushing over the still healing marks from the night before. He thought about feeding for a moment, but something far more filling had his attention right now. He moved until he had her nipple in his mouth. Flicking the nub with his tongue, his hand went to massage the other one. He wasn’t gentle. No one that knew Astarion for who he was thought he was a gentle man. It was rough but Tav didn’t seem to mind. 

In fact, Tav seemed to love it. Her back arched into him. “Astarion!” And then her hands were on his shoulders, urging him downwards.

And he didn’t want to fight it. He kept moving, biting and nipping at her stomach. And then he got to her trousers. He sat up, panting and looking wild. His fangs were bared and he was panting hard. He threw her legs on his shoulders, tossing her loafers somewhere behind him. And then he went to work on the knots holding her trousers up. Which he made very quick work of. He shimmied them off her, making sure to keep her underwear on for a moment. He stripped off his shirt before returning to her mouth. 

He needed her. 

“Astarion, please, touch me.”

He was quick to snake his hand towards her cunt. And even quicker to find the spot that made her gasp into his mouth. Gods, he could do this forever. He made his way back to her neck, lapping over those same marks. Her hand tangled itself into his hair and the other gripped his shoulder with far more strength than he expected. His cold hands were a sharp contrast to the warmth of her. Her head was thrown back against the ground as she gasped for air. She was shaking. 

It was already so much for her. She had been so pent up and so angry. But the way he worked her clit? It was a way no one ever had before. Not even herself. In fact, no one had ever touched her like this before. Nothing past shy kisses or heady glances. If she had known, maybe she would have lived her life a little differently. 

But once her back arched and she cried out his name? She clenched around nothing. She felt so empty now and he hadn’t even gotten close yet. He chuckled as best he could, “Already, darling?” he muttered against her neck.

“I-” she gasped once he slid a finger inside her. “Astarion,” his name rolled off her tongue and he swore he wouldn’t mind hearing her do this forever. He could still feel her cunt clench around his fingers and he groaned. He couldn’t wait much longer but she was enjoying herself. “I’ve never-” he curled his finger before adding a second one. 

“You’ve never felt this good before?”

“Done this before,” she managed to gasp out before he curled his fingers again. 

His hands stalled for a moment and she whined. “I’m to be your first?” She nodded, wriggling her hips, trying to will him to move again. “My dear, why didn’t you say anything?” He removed his fingers and she cried out. “Shhh, I have to make a good first impression, don’t I?”

He practically ripped her underwear off. She was a virgin. He couldn’t lie that it made him even harder to think about being the only one who got to touch her. But he had to take care of her if he wanted to be the only one.

He buried his face in her cunt, holding her thighs open with his hands. Tav covered her mouth to hide her cries of his name. But it was his name on her lips. His fingers going right back inside her, where they belonged. His lips on her clit. He groaned again when she came, this time right on his face and hands. He lapped at her for a moment longer and started pistoning his fingers in and out. He couldn’t help but watch her cum make a mess of his fingers. 

“Astarion!” She cried as she came on his fingers yet again. “Please!”

“Please what, my dear?” He wiped her juices off his chin before closing the distance between them. His lips hovered over hers, those red eyes glazed over with a hunger. Her eyes fluttered open. She smiled at him, all too happy to offer herself to him. She bared her neck. And dive he did. His fangs pierced her neck once again as he drank. He knew better than to drink more than his share but he wanted nothing more than to keep drinking as she wrapped her bare legs around his waist and rubbed her cunt against the fabric of his trousers. He released her neck and practically shredded what was left of his clothing. 

He leaned back for a moment, taking in the sight. This elf, a noble from Waterdeep, was laid out before him. Freckles dotting her skin and her blonde hair spread out like a halo before him. It would be angelic if not for the blood slowly trickling out of her neck. “Astarion,” she whispered. Her voice was full of something he couldn’t quite place. Something he had pushed aside a long time ago. 

All he could do was nod before he lined himself up to her. As he slowly slid in, he swore that this was the closest he could get to heaven. 

Astarion wasn’t small. Tav could feel his cock stretching her cunt out. Why did no one ever tell her it could feel like this? She gripped his shoulders and wrapped her legs around him once more. She sighed as he finally finished. “Gods above, you’re amazing.” She whispered, almost too afraid to say it. Too afraid to say the other things on the tip of her tongue. Her eyes traveled down his body to where they were connected before looking back up at him. 

“Shit,” he panted, withholding every emotion that came flooding through him. Instead, he snaked a hand underneath her thigh, lifting it up before he began to thrust.

She thought just having her inside him felt amazing. But this angle had her barely able to breath. She threw her head back and arched into his body. It was all she could do to hold on to him as he upped his pace. Tav could barely gasp out his name as she tried to look at him. His eyes were shut and his hair was more than perfectly tousled. “Beautiful,” was all she could get out before she tightened around his cock. 

“Shit!” He followed closely behind her, seemingly unexpectedly. They laid there for a moment, just feeling each other before he slipped out of her. She cried, a palpable sense of emptiness. He watched her breath for a few moments longer, secretly enjoying his cum starting to drip out of her cunt. Normally, he’d leave. He’d get up, put his clothes back together and leave. But Tav? Something told him he couldn’t. So he grabbed his tunic and wrapped her in it before carrying her to the water. 

He tried not to notice her nuzzling his neck. He tried to ignore the praises she said. He tried desperately to ignore the draw she had on him. He tried to ignore her moan as he set her in the shallow water, gently taking his tunic off her shoulders. Instead, he sat next to her and let the water wash away the previous activities. 

[wholoveseggs]

Hello, how are you? Could i request an angsty but smutty and fluff fic of Elijah and reader where they get into a fight but makeup in the end?

Stubborn

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You and Elijah get into a fight about his protective nature. He thinks you are too stubborn, and you think he's too controlling. How will you resolve your issues?

♡♡ Thanks for the request anon! I don't know if this is very angsty, but it certainly is very smutty ♡♡

4.1k words - Warnings: smuttttt, very little plot, Cami being the best, dom!elijah (you like him in control? well... here you go...), fingering, squirting, angry sex...

"I'm not some damsel in distress, I don't need your protection!" You yelled, louder than you meant to. Arguing with Elijah was always a test of your restraint. He made it so damn difficult, he was always calm and composed. Sometimes you just wanted to push his buttons.

"Darling, I have so many enemies, and you're not invincible." He tried to reason.

"Don't patronize me, I know that, but you treat me like I can't take care of myself!" You snapped, pacing around the living room. You tried to calm yourself down, you didn't want to say something you'd regret, but the anger bubbling inside you wouldn't go away.

"I'm not trying to patronize you, I just think you could make better decisions." He said softly, his eyes following you as you paced.

"It's like you're treating me like a child! We're supposed to be equals, and you always talk to me like you're the parent and I'm the kid!" Your voice cracked a little, when you got angry you also would cry. You hated that about yourself.

Elijah could see the pain in your eyes, you were his soft and sweet y/n. He just wanted to protect you. He tried to approach you, to hold you and comfort you, but you pushed him away.

His actions made you feel weak, and foolish, here was a man that faced countless dangers, he was centuries old, he fought vampires and werewolves, witches and even his own siblings. And you were just this fragile thing, this tiny human he had to watch out for. It made you feel so weak and pathetic, all your insecurities bubbling up inside you, the tears falling down your cheeks.

You stormed away from him, and he let you, because he knew if he pushed you, it would just make things worse.

You had been dating Elijah for two months now, and in that time, he had taken on the role of a protective boyfriend. You liked being taken care of, but sometimes it felt like he didn't see you as an equal.

You had been arguing about this a lot lately. You didn't like being treated like you were breakable. You weren't. You had dealt with plenty of dangers in your life, and he didn't give you enough credit.

He was a stubborn man, and you were a stubborn woman, so the tension kept rising, until you finally had to get away from him. So you decided to stay at Cami's for a few days, she was a good friend, and she didn't judge you. She could always use some company anyways.

"So, he's a bit over protective, huh?" Cami asked. You were curled up on her couch, drinking a glass of wine. You were both having a night in, wearing pajamas and doing self-care.

"Yeah, and I know he means well, but I really value my independence, it's not something I'm willing to give up," You admitted.

"Do you feel like he doesn't respect you?" She asked, taking a sip of her own wine.

"No, he does, I know that, but it feels like he doesn't trust me." You said, looking down into your glass.

Cami stood and grabbed some snacks, tossing you a bag of your favorite chips. "I don't think that's it, I think he's scared. Scared to lose you. He's been through so much, and he's lost a lot of people he's loved." She said, plopping back down on the couch.

You let out a long sigh, you knew of his pain, but it was still hard to hear out loud. He held all of his trauma inside him, and sometimes it was difficult for him to share, even with you.

"I love him Cami, it's just hard. I've always had to take care of myself, I guess I just have a hard time accepting someone wanting to do that for me." You said softly, feeling the tears brimming your eyes.

"Have you told him that? That you love him?" She asked.

"No, I... I want him to say it first." You admitted.

Cami chuckled and took a long sip of her wine, then grabbed the remote and turned on a movie. It was one of those sappy romances that were so over the top and cheesy. But that's why they were so fun to watch.

"Just tell him. I'm sure he loves you too." Cami said, her gaze fixed on the tv.

"I know," you sighed, "I just want him to initiate, his so reserved, and I'm tired of always being the one who has to take the first step." You grumbled.

"He's probably worried about scaring you away, or making things awkward, you know how he can be." She said, turning to look at you, giving you a comforting smile.

"Yeah, I guess." You mumbled, curling up further on the couch.

Cami gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and the two of you continued to watch your movie, the sappy love story playing out in front of you.

"So," she said, breaking the silence, "how's the sex?"

You choked on your wine, sputtering a bit before regaining your composure. Cami was a little shit sometimes.

"The sex is amazing," You said, smirking at her. "But... I'm always the one initiating it. Sometimes I think his biggest problem is that he's too gentlemanly."

"Well, what have you done to make him be more spontaneous?" Cami asked, grabbing the bottle of wine and pouring more in her glass.

"Me?" You squeaked. "What did I do?"

"Maybe he doesn't want to take control because you never gave him permission." She asked.

You sat and thought about that. You were usually the one who would start things. You initiated kisses, hugs, hand holding, even the sex. Elijah was so reserved, so proper, he didn't want to overstep. It made you feel like he didn't desire you, which was ridiculous, you had seen him undressing you with his eyes.

"That's fair." You said. "I didn't realize he was waiting for permission."

"Men are idiots." Cami stated, making you laugh.

"Sometimes," you said, chuckling. "I just want to see him be the one to initiate, you know?"

"I know." She said, leaning back on the couch.

You finished the bottle of wine and watched the rest of the movie. It was so sweet, the ending was a happy one, the couple was together and they were in love. You wished life was that simple.

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache and a dry mouth. Cami was already awake, making coffee.

"Ugh," you groaned, rubbing your temples. "I should have drank more water,"

"I tried to remind you." Cami said, smirking at you.

"Well, excuse me for being drunk," You replied.

She handed you a mug of coffee, and you sipped it slowly, letting the warmth of the drink soothe your throat.

"Thanks for letting me stay here," you said.

"You know I don't mind." She replied, sitting on the couch next to you.

You leaned your head on her shoulder, sighing.

"I love him, but I think I need some space. Some time to myself." You said softly.

"I think that's a good idea." She replied.

"Are we doing the right thing? Am I being selfish?" You asked, chewing your bottom lip.

"No, you're not. You're being realistic. You need some space and some time to yourself." She replied.

"I'm going to go to the compound and pick up some clothes and stuff." You said.

"Want me to come with you?" She asked.

"No, that's ok, I think I can handle myself." You replied, smiling at her.

She gave you a reassuring squeeze and you got up, feeling a bit better after your talk.

"Thanks Cami, I'll call you later," You said, grabbing your keys and heading out.

Elijah was sitting at the kitchen counter, drinking a glass of whiskey, and he had a book open in front of him, though he wasn't reading it. His mind was too preoccupied. He missed you terribly, it had only been a couple days, but it felt like an eternity.

He thought back to the last conversation you had had. You had stormed off, and he hadn't chased after you, because he knew you needed time to cool down. He wanted to tell you he was sorry, but he knew you didn't want to hear it right now.

You were the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he didn't want to lose you. He was used to losing people, he had spent centuries running, he had been betrayed, lied to, hurt. But he had never met anyone quite like you.

You were sweet, funny, smart, and caring. He had fallen for you quickly, but he had been too afraid to admit it. Like if he said it out loud, everything would fall apart.

But in your absence he realized his mistake, and how foolish he had been. No more wasting time, he needs to tell you that he loves you, despite how stubborn you are.

You walked into the compound, it was eerily quiet, you hoped Elijah was out. So you could just quickly grab your things and leave.

You didn't expect him to be waiting for you in the kitchen, his face was serious, but his eyes were full of emotion.

"Elijah, I'm just here to pick up some clothes," You said, trying to walk past him. He stepped in front of you, blocking your way.

"We need to talk." He said, his tone firm.

"No, we really don't, I just want my things," You said, trying to move around him. He moved again, his arms crossed, and his face was stern.

"Stop treating me like a child! Let me by!" You yelled. He let you pass him and you ran up to your bedroom, grabbing some clothes.

He followed you and stood in the doorway, watching you, his eyes boring into your skin.

"Stop looking at me like that," You said, throwing some clothes into a bag.

"I hate seeing you upset," He replied, his voice soft.

"I'm not upset, I'm just angry." You said, moving past him to go into the bathroom, grabbing your toothbrush.

He followed you and leaned against the doorframe, watching you gather your toiletries.

"Please, let's just talk." He pleaded.

You sighed, looking up at him, his expression was pained, his jaw was clenched. You could see the desperation in his eyes. Your anger was still in charge though and you pushed past him again and started packing your things on the bed.

"So talk, I'm listening," You said harshly, still not looking at him.

He took a deep breath, his fists clenched, and he closed his eyes for a moment, composing himself. He knew he couldn't get through to you when you were angry like this.

"You're right," He said, opening his eyes and looking at you. "I'm sorry. I haven't been treating you fairly. I've been trying to protect you. But you are being stubborn and you're not letting me explain,"

You turned to look at him, trying to ignore how good he looked. His hair was messy, like he had been running his hands through it, and he was wearing a black shirt, his sleeves rolled up, and his tie was hanging loose around his neck. A part of you wanted to just give in and kiss him, but the other part of you was still pissed off.

He could hear your heart beating faster, your body temperature rising. He knew that he had an effect on you, and he was enjoying seeing you get flustered. He gave you a crooked smirk, and took a step closer to you, and you backed up, hitting the bed.

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady your breathing. You were angry, but his presence always made your body react, and your head spin.

"So stubborn," he growled, pushing you onto the bed.

"Fuck you, Elijah," you hissed, trying to sit up.

"Not today," he smirked, pinning you down with his weight.

"I said, fuck you," You growled, pushing on his chest.

He chuckled and leaned down, his face inches from yours. His eyes were dark, his lips curled up in a devilish smile.

"Say please," He purred, his breath ghosting over your lips.

You let out a frustrated groan, and he kissed you, hard. You whimpered, and he slipped his tongue into your mouth, exploring it, tasting you.

"Is this what you want? To be fucked?" He whispered, his lips grazing your ear.

"No," you lied, trying to squirm away from him, but his grip was too tight.

"Don't lie, darling, your body betrays you," He growled, nibbling your earlobe before leaving a trail of hickeys down your neck.

He suddenly tore the shirt off of you, making you gasp. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, his other hand moving to your waist, pulling your skirt off.

"Eli- my clothes!" You whined, but he just chuckled, his eyes roaming your body.

"I'll buy you new ones," He smirked, nipping at your jaw, then capturing your lips with his.

"You can't just-" you were cut off by him biting your lip. You groaned and he released you, his hands roaming your body.

"Stop being so stubborn," He whispered, his fingers brushing over your lace panties, making you shiver.

"I'm not," you argued, biting back a moan as his fingers teased your clit.

He laid on his side next to you, opening your legs and pushing your panties out of the way. He grazed over your clit with the pad of his index finger, teasing you slowly. He loved this, teasing you, torturing you. You were so beautiful when you were desperate for him.

You whined and pushed your hips against his hand, and he pulled his hand away, smirking.

"You're such a tease," You growled, glaring at him.

"You're cute when you're angry," He smiled, his fingers returning to your pussy. He tapped your clit lightly, his lips ghosting over yours. You tried not to react, but it felt so good, this dominant side of him was driving you crazy.

He slid two fingers into you, and began thrusting them slowly. You gasped and arched your back, moaning loudly. Watching your reaction was thrilling, his cock was painfully hard, but he wanted to make you cum first.

"Listen to those sweet sounds," he purred, pumping his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right. “So filthy and wet, the way your body responds, it's like you were made for me."

"You're a fucking asshole," you moaned, trying to buck your hips against his fingers.

"I can stop, if you want," He whispered, his voice dark. 

"No," You whimpered, "I-I'm close."

"Oh, I know, darling." He smiled, "You're going to cum, and I'm going to make you cum again, and again, until all the stubborn thoughts in your head disappear."

His fingers were pumping fast now, and you couldn't help the noises you were making. Your orgasm was building in such a way that you knew it would be intense. He was right, you were stubborn, you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing you moan, but it was becoming more and more difficult to hold back.

"Eli- wait, your gonna make me-" You stuttered, gasping as he added a third finger, stretching you even more.

"Make a mess?" He purred, curling his fingers just right, hitting your g-spot.

The lewd, wet, squelching noises coming from your pussy were embarrassing, and the fact that he was enjoying them made it worse. He could feel your walls tightening around his fingers, your whole body trembling, you were so close.

He sped up his pace, and he could see the moment when you reached your peak. Your body tensed up, your back arching, and then a loud cry escaped your lips.

Your juices spilled out onto his fingers, covering his hand. It was so much, you had never squirted before, and the look on Elijah's face was pure lust and amusement.

It made you embarrassed and a bit angry and you tried to move away, but he kept his fingers buried deep inside you, not letting you escape.

"Don't be ashamed," He said, kissing your forehead, his fingers moving slowly, causing your legs to tremble.

"I'm not," You panted, glaring at him, trying to suppress a moan.

"Really?" He purred, his eyes locking with yours, "Then why are you blushing?"

He smirked, and you tried to hide your face in the sheets, but he wouldn't let you. He was still smirking, and you were getting angrier.

"I'm not-"

"Shh, love, you can't hide from me," he cooed, his fingers still pumping into you, stretching you out. Building up another climax.

"Eli-fuck," You gasped, the pleasure building.

"That's it, let me hear those pretty sounds," He whispered, his voice husky.

He was still fully clothed, and he hadn't even touched himself, he was only focused on you.

He kept fucking his fingers into you, his thumb circling your clit, making sure every inch of your pussy was being stimulated.

Your body was trembling, and you could feel yourself getting close again, you pushed your heels into the bed, trying to get away, but he didn't stop, he just kept going, his pace relentless.

"I can't- oh fuck-," You gasped, arching your back as the orgasm crashed over you. Your wetness soaked his hand and the bed below.

Elijah pulled his fingers out, bringing them up to his mouth and licking them clean. Then he kissed you, his tongue pushing past your lips, tasting all of you.

You tried to glare at him, but he was now kissing your neck, his free hand moving down to cup your breast, teasing your nipples.

"I'm still mad at you," You panted, trying not to moan.

"I know," He smirked, "And I'm not finished with you."

He grabbed your thighs, spreading your legs, and settled between them, his eyes roaming over your body.

"Such a pretty thing," He murmured, tracing patterns on your skin.

He took ahold of your waist, pulling you towards him, and began to grind against your wet pussy, making you whimper.

"You're so sensitive, baby," He cooed, his lips brushing over your collarbone.

You could feel his erection straining against his pants, and you could tell he was enjoying this just as much as you were. He undid his belt, pulling it out of the loops, and tossing it to the floor.

He pulled your arms above your head, his hand gripping your wrists. He unzipped his pants and took his cock out, pressing it against your entrance.

"You're already soaked for me," He whispered, kissing you deeply.

You moaned into the kiss, and he pushed his cock into you, making you whimper. He was so thick, and his length filled you completely, making your body tremble.

He began to thrust into you, his pace steady, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips grazing over your skin.

"I'm not a toy," You managed to say, your voice strained.

"No, you're not, you're mine," He growled, his hips slamming into yours, his cock hitting all the right spots.

"Fuck," You gasped, arching your back.

His grip on your wrists tightened, and he spread your legs even wider. He grinded his hips slowly, wanting to draw out your pleasure for as long as possible.

You could feel the pressure building, and it was becoming harder to concentrate, all you could focus on was his cock, his weight on top of you, the way he was looking at you.

"Say it," He growled, his hips moving faster now. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," You moaned, your voice cracking, your resolve breaking with every deep stroke.

The sound of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy filled the room, mixed with your moans and gasps, and the way the bed was creaking. He knew you were close, he could feel your muscles starting to clench around him.

"No no stubborn one, you don't get to cum yet," He growled, nipping at your ear.

He wrapped your legs around his waist, pinning you to the bed. His pace increased and he leaned in to kiss you.

"Come on darling, give in, admit I'm right," He whispered.

"Eli, please," You moaned, your fingers gripping his shirt.

"All you have to do is submit," He cooed, pressing his lips to yours.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to resist the urge to give in, but it was so intense and his pace was relentless. He wasn't going to stop, not until you broke.

"Look at the way you open up for me," He said, his voice husky as he grinded against you. "Your needy little pussy, milking my cock, begging to be filled."

You looked down at where his cock was buried inside of you, moving in and out of your pussy. You could see how wet you were, covering his pants and your thighs, making a mess of the sheets.

"Hmm, you like that? Seeing how wet you are, all for me," He whispered, leaning down to kiss you. "Just admit that you are stubborn, and we can cum together."

Your whole body was shaking, your orgasm so close, but you fought it, squeezing your thighs together, trying to close your legs, but he wouldn't let you.

You gave up, you didn't care about the fight anymore, you just wanted to cum, you just wanted him to stop torturing you. You couldn't think straight, everything was too much, his thrusts were deep and hard, his cock was filling you, stretching you out, he knew just how to fuck you.

You couldn't hold back anymore and you finally gave in, submitting to him. "You're right," you gasped, your voice barely audible. "Please, Eli, fuck, I'm sorry, just let me cum."

"Good girl," He groaned, leaning back and spreading your thighs wide, pounding into you. He began to stroke your clit with his thumb, drawing circles, as his hips snapped hard and fast.

It was all too much, and you felt an intense release, your body convulsing, your wetness soaking him, making a mess of the clothes he was still wearing and the bed.

He chuckled, watching your cheeks flush in embarrassment as he fucked you through it. He made you squirt all over him, submitting to him completely.

You were still trembling, trying to catch your breath, you couldn't focus, your whole body was tingling with pleasure, you felt like you were floating.

He kissed you deeply, pressing his body to yours before he let out a low groan and came inside you, his cock twitching. You shuddered, your pussy still sensitive, but he didn't stop, he continued moving his hips slowly.

You could feel the warmth of his cum filling you, his cock throbbing, his breathing uneven. He kissed you softly and slowly, his fingers brushing over your cheek, caressing your face as he pulled out of you.

Now that you had come down from your high, you felt a mixture of frustration and humiliation. You tried to move, but he held you there, a devilish grin plastered on his face.

He shifted onto his back, pulling you on top of him. You straddled him, your body on top of his, your chest pressing against his chest.

"I love you," he whispered, pulling you in for another kiss.

"Eli," you muttered, burying your face in his chest. You couldn't believe he had fucked you in that way, and now he was saying the three words you wanted to hear the most. He was so perfect and so infuriating at the same time. You were angry that he was able to make you give in so easily, but it was worth it. It had never felt so good.

"I love you too, asshole," you replied, making him laugh.

He kissed you once more before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. His hands rested on your lower back, tracing lazy circles.

"I'm sorry for being protective, it's not because I don't trust you, it's because I'm afraid of losing you," he said quietly.

"I know, and I'm sorry for saying that you're a control freak," you apologized.

"No you're not," He smirked, kissing you again.

"I'm getting there," you sighed.

He laughed, tracing the curve of your hips with his fingertips. You could feel him harden underneath you, and it turned you on again. And you slowly ground your hips against his, teasing him.

His eyes grew dark, and he placed his hands on your ass, squeezing firmly. "Darling, don't," He said warningly, his voice strained.

You ignored him, rolling your hips, grinding into his lap, you wanted more.

"Don't be so stubborn Eli-,"

You were on your back before you could finish your sentence, your legs spread, his lips on yours.

You were definitely going to fight with him more often…

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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[howtotrainabraincell]

Head cannons bc I can - Assassin’s body parts preferences (and extras...)

AN: I would just like to say that ALL of the Assassin's will protect their love with their lives, not standing for any disrespect or rudeness toward her in any way shape or form. I may not have put it in the description of every Assassin, but it goes without saying. ALSO, plz don't @ me bc this is my first ever spicy post lol

Altair Ibn La’Ahad - loves burying his face in her neck and grabbing her backside cheekily lol, loves bathing with her but won’t deny that’s it’s hard to control himself around her naked body. Comes to her after a mission (if they didn't go on it together that is or if she's not an assassin) to hold her and just melts against her, grateful to have her and be back in her arms alive. Pulls her away ever so often to a corner where he'll kiss her breathless and then just walk off like nothing happened (this man-), loves to chase lol if she runs from him, it sets something deep and primal off in him, and when he eventually catches her? 😳😳😳

Shay Patrick Cormac - definitely breasts lol and has a thing for waists, also loves thighs & has a thing for kissing from the top of her foot to the inside of her thighs, this man can pick up grown soldiers, flip them over his shoulder and then just toss them to the ground like it nothing so he’s strong - tell.me he doesn’t pick up his love and carry her off for some alone time. She won't have to worry about anyone on the Morrigan getting any ideas because Shay has made it VERY clear that she's his and his only. He'll legit fight for her if someone makes her uncomfortable or harasses her and make them regret the day they were born (that is if they can even think afterward bc they'll probably be dead). It - depending on the mood he's in - makes him feel very loved and cared for or very turned on and ready to pin her down, when she kisses the scar over his eye. Don't even get me started on how naughty this fricken man is in Irish Gaelic. (Sir! Control thyself!)

Edward Kenway - an ass man for sure and he loves the thighs too, stands behind her and glares at anyone who checks her out from his spot behind her where he’ll press a possessive kiss to her shoulder while glaring at them. Why do I have feeling that this man has a thing for women who can shoot guns? If she shoots a gun in front of him all pirate-esque he'll literally beg her to step on him haha. Loves him a mouthy feisty woman because not only does it turn.him.on, he gets a kick out of a lovely woman being able to blow someone out of the water with her insults & statements of self-defense. Will also waylay anyone who disrespects her, he'll actually feed them their teeth (don't test him with her)

Jacob Ethan Frye - both the man’s bi lol he can have both if he wants, he for sure does playful butt pats and grabs occasionally but usually when they’re alone (USUALLY & if a Rook bore witness? THEY SAW NOTHING), definitely into holding his love on his lap and whispering dirty things in her ear to fluster her. Will fight to protect her and God help them because they'll have him and the Rooks to deal with (that is if Jacob doesn't crush them and turn them into dust that blows away in the wind lol). Also loves him a feisty and mouthy woman, if she's sarcastic, witty and goofy on top of that? This man is more whipped than whipped cream. Total gentleman even if she can hand his ass to him on a silver platter, he still treats her with utmost respect. Enjoys lying in bed with her and cuddling (give the man all the cuddles STAT) lazily playing with her hair and believe it not - not all kissing with the amorous assassin leads to *wink wink*. He genuinely enjoys laying there with her on a slow day and kissing her sweetly, over and over again. Man is a genuine romantic sweetheart (and nothing will change my mind). It's not an odd occurrence for Evie to wonder where her younger brother is, only to find him conked out on his love's chest just peacefully snoozing away as she holds him reading a book or some files. Totally see him tracing his fingers down her sternum until he reaches her breasts and tracing the insides of them to get her riled up (if he's feeling mean he'll even give a cheeky kiss haha). Also loves to chase her across rooftops and make bets of a spicier nature...

Evie Frye - loves to kiss her loves hands & jaw (particularly that one little spot…) and trace kisses down her sternum, has a habit of cornering her and making out with her lol then she just goes on about her day like nothing happened, plays footsies underneath table surfaces (CHANGE MY MIND). Loves all of her and honestly don't think she would have a preference, Evie's just grateful to have her at all and be with her. Woman was dedicated to being alone as a result of being in the Brotherhood. Think she would get a kick out of witty and playful banter, the more her love speaks the more in love she falls and the more she desires her. She's good with her hands. I said it. Sue me. She.has.good.hands. The woman tis skilled (in more ways than one...) This also pertains to corsets and buttons whether it be doing them or undoing them... Kind think she would like chasing her love through the city too and if it ends up in a garden? The woman internally swoons.

Kassandra of Sparta - breasts she likes pulling her love against her and then looking down to see them pressed against her armor being gorgeous as usual and she loves to grab hips, she will CUT Alcibiades if he looks at her love lol bc she KNOWS what he's thinking about, only lets her hair down around her love and adores laying in between her thighs while her fingers give her a head a very relaxing massage (seriously they can put the woman to sleep lol)

Ratonhnhake:ton/Connor Kenway - I think we can all agree that this sweet man isn't very sexual BUT once he settles down, he does have an appreciation for his loves figure. Loves to hover over her from behind and kiss the top of her head, and when things get more intimate between them, he loves to give her kisses all over her face. Flowers with him would be a common occurrence, often times she wakes up to beautiful wildflowers on her bedside table or on the pillow beside her. This man is a good provider. And if she takes an interest in hunting with him, more than a few times he'll briefly lose interest in hunting the animal and playfully hunting her instead... Feel like he strokes her legs lovingly and takes his time exploring the sexual feelings he has for her. He would love her breasts because they're beautiful, soft and full of life.

Alexios of Sparta - ass for sure he seems like a butt smacker haha she’ll be minding her own business when he comes out of nowhere and gives her a light loving smack. He comes up behind her and literally sweeps her off her feet - no pleasantries, just "you're mine now" lol

Haytham Kenway - breasts has a thing for tracing the tops of them when she wears dresses to get her riled up all while delivering an “innocent” kiss to her flaming red cheek, will randomly stoop to her level to whisper something 😳 in her ear. Get a vibe that he would spoil her with beautiful jewelry and then woo her until it's the only thing she has on, before taking her to bed... Morning sex seems like the norm for him because he's not always there when she falls asleep arriving home late, but when he sees her in the morning, he more than makes it up to her and greets her in very steamy manner. He reminds her to remain neutral when she stands next to him during a meeting as he sits down with his hand hidden by her dress on her backside gently squeezing and acting completely casual about it the cheeky -

Desmond Miles - breasts & when Shaun stresses him out, he presses his head into them lol it’s stress relieving, comes up behind her and hugs her tightly, definitely into spooning he likes the physical contact, and he melts when she kisses his forehead. Before everything he screwed, but now with the woman he loves? He makes love and thoroughly enjoys every second of it with her. Having her by his side through everything means more to him than he can express.

Arno Victor Dorian - this man feels like a worshipper he would love all of her body and take his time with her, but he does tend to go for breasts more coming out of nowhere and kissing the tops of them reverently throughout the day, definitely takes her hand in his and kisses it with full eye contact to the point where it makes her blush, earning a chuckle from him. Tell me that this man doesn't pull her away to corners throughout the day or on a mission and kiss her before walking away casually like nothing happened lol. Got a feeling he's very into whisking his love away just getting her attention and pulling her away to wherever they can have a few moments alone together. Good kisser. I refuse to believe anything else. He swoops in gives a sweet kiss that leaves her flustered, and he stands there watching her with a smile on his face. For some reason I think he's into the whole secret lover rendezvous thing, aka coming in through his love's window or meeting her secretly (it's exciting and he gets her all alone...)

Ezio Auditore Da Firenze - also feels like a worshipping type of man except everywhere, everything, all the time lol, but he does have a preference for breasts often times hugging his love around the waist and burying his face in them. We've all seen how this man has thing for pinning his lady to the wall...do with it what you will. But he does it to her and OFTEN lol. A little more promiscuous in public - stopping of course if she gets uncomfortable - than others and is not afraid to show how he feels about her. Also, a good kisser. I mean COME ON.

Bayek of Siwa - he loves her breasts because beneath them lies her heart and he cherishes the fact that she has given it to him, loves to star gaze with her - they lay there together peacefully as he tells her about the constellations and their meaning. Loves bathing with her just laying back and relaxing, eyes roving her form as she cleans him and gives him a shave (he refuses to shave unless she does it for him bc he loves her touch and how great her handiwork is). Gives the kinds of kisses that melt her like a stick of butter lol, a kiss from him has a lot of emotion poured into it telling without words how much he loves her.

[harveysweakness]

a fic about jealous harvey?

..thoughts?

A/N: jealous Harvey has me

Harvey didn’t often feel the need to prove himself. He was a self-assured, confident, successful man. He got what he wanted and his biggest desire was you. You two had known each other for years, only realizing you would be a perfect couple in the last year. And in that time, Harvey had never felt jealous.

Except for now.

You were incredibly respectful of the relationship you had with Harvey. You used to flirt (among other things) with clients in order to get what you needed. Ever since you and Harvey had made things official, you’d stopped doing anything of the sort. But that didn’t stop clients from attempting to make advances on you.

Your boyfriend didn’t often feel concerned about the advances they attempted, because you respectfully always declined their offers for dinner, declined their offering of their arm when walking into the court house, etc. But Harvey couldn’t stop the anger bubbling inside of his chest when he saw Mark Daniels.

Mark Daniels was CEO of Harper National, a newfound AI company that had gained an enormous amount of legal attention in the past few months due to a battle over company rights. He was arrogant, charming, good-looking, and beyond wealthy. He was similar to Harvey, which is why your boyfriend was so angry.

Daniels was constantly trying to beat Harvey, holding your coat open for you when meetings had finished, grabbing you a coffee, tea, or water at the start of depositions, and buying you dinner every time he saw you, even if he had left the building before it was close to dinner time. The man had it delivered to your office, once even as you had sat down in Harvey’s office with the dinner he had bought for you.

The problem seemed to be that Harvey couldn’t just discuss his feelings with you, but instead decided he had to beat Mark at his own game, which meant that you were in the middle of a stupid men’s war.

“And can you be sure that-“ You stopped talking, confused as Harvey entered the conference room.

“I’m heading out, just wanted to quickly say ‘goodbye.”

“Oh, okay, goodbye Harvey,” you replied with a polite smile. It faltered when he moved around the conference table to bend down and press a kiss to your cheek.

“Harvey-“you began, a little shocked at the display of unprofessionalism.

“We’re in the middle of something, here,” Daniels spoke up.

Harvey opened his mouth to speak, but your eyes flashed dangerously at him and he shut his mouth. You watched as he sent a smirk towards Daniels as he walked out. It took everything you had in you not to yell at the two men. Sighing, you refocused on the documents in front of you.

——————

“Hey, sweetheart,” Harvey greeted as you walked into his apartment. He took one look at your face and furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” You asked, anger growing as you threw your bag into a nearby chair. “How about that display of ridiculous toxic masculinity you decided you needed to show earlier?”

“You mean in the conference room? I was just saying goodby-“

“No, you were trying to prove to the man what you think is yours, which I am not. I am not yours, I am not anybody’s and I know that man gets under your skin but you-“

“Get under my skin- the man tries to shove the fact that he wants you in my face!” Harvey argued, tossing the dish towel angrily onto the counter.

“But I don’t want him!”

“How am I supposed to believe that?”

“Because I am not going to leave, Harvey! Mark Daniels is not in your league! And he is certainly not attractive to me! He is not my boyfriend and I know that you are scared of losing me, scared that what we have will mean nothing, and I know why, but I am not what happened in your past. And I know you love me, even if you haven’t said anything.”

“How can you know that?” Your boyfriend asked, fear quickly flashing in his eyes before he masked it once more.

"Because I know who you are. I just know, Harvey," you deadpanned, your anger softening. "I know that you tell people we met at a bar because you want our meeting place to be intimate to just us. I know that you were sick when we went up north, but I knew you weren't ready to be that type of vulnerable with me that early in our relationship. I know that your favorite show isn't that law one you like, but actually Will and Grace. I know when you ask me to marry you, it will be because you can't hold it in anymore, and I know that on our wedding day you will say something ridiculous that will make me laugh and two seconds later you will say the most romantic thing I've ever heard. I know that you look not only at my ass and boobs, but at my stomach. I see the way your eyes soften, the way you stare, imagining me pregnant with your child. I know you, I know Harvey Specter. And the next time you get jealous, you remember that."

You finished your rant, slightly out of breath, chest heaving. A flurry of emotions crossed Harvey's face. He looked as though he was about to say something, but thought better of it. Instead he quickly crossed the few steps to you, his lips slamming into yours, arms coming around your waist, bringing you into him like his life depended on it.

Your hands moved up to his neck and hair while he picked you up easily. You could tell he was trying to do anything to get closer to you, like nothing would ever be close enough for him.

“You are the most amazing woman I have ever met,” he murmured against your lips.

“I know.”

[kitashousewife]

“so, what was it this time?”

“osamu!” you shriek, nearly jumping out of your skin when you round corner and find the grey-haired miya leaning against your kitchen counter.

eating your chips.

“i thought i locked the door,” you mumble, throwing the fridge open with a huff. your eyes land on a bottle of wine from a week ago, one you got after your last date.

“i have a key,” he says, mouth full of chips. “besides, ya texted me to come over, remember?”

you’re drinking straight out of the bottle, rolling your eyes at both his attitude and the dribble of wine that falls down your chin and onto your pajama shirt. he’s right, you texted him the second your date dropped you off. it was awful, and who better to complain about it to than your best friend.

“yeah, i do.” you put the bottle down, sliding it across the counter to osamu who slides it back and shakes his head.

“well, let’s hear it then.” osamu picks a couple more chips out of the bag, gesturing toward you. only then do you realize he’s still in his work clothes, black t shirt and onigiri miya, even his apron is loosely wrapped around his hips.

“it was awful, worst one yet. he didn’t even pick me up. sent an uber to get me,” osamu interjects with a snicker. you continue. “i get to the restaurant, and he didn’t even acknowledge me when i sat down! just nodded at like like some dog while he talked on the phone to who knows who for at least 10 minutes.”

osamu nods, seemingly unamused.

“then he spent the entire dinner telling me about how much money he makes, the cars he owns and his latest vacation.”

“business man?”

“actor.”

osamu laughs out loud. “in anything good? anything i’ve seen?”

“well if it’s good, we all know you haven’t seen it,” you hoist yourself onto the counter across from osamu as he shakes his head. “but no, commercials mostly. he said he was really hoping to get on that one soap opera, the-“

“so he was a self absorbed asshole?”

“pretty much,” you nod, picking at your nails. “such a waste of my time! i couldn’t believe it. by the time i finished my food his was untouched! he was yapping the entire time.”

you continue on, gesturing wildly about yet another guy who took up your friday night. and it ended the same as all the others: you, sitting in your pajamas while osamu listens, eating your snack. usually, after an hour or so, you let your feelings out and head to bed, leaving osamu to head back to his own place.

tonight though, he doesn’t want that outcome.

truthfully he’s had it. he’s sick of these guys, tired of hearing about how you’re getting treated when he’s fully capable of doing it himself.

“stop spending your nights with these losers, let a real man take ya out.”

you exhale. “i’ve been trying! not my fault i keep getting set up with them.”

osamu groans while he chews the remainder of the chips, tossing the once full bag into the trash.

“i have someone to set ya up with,” he returns to his spot, directly in front of you and crosses his arms.

“please, who is it? after all this time you finally have someone?”

he nods. “he’s tall, dark hair, has a good job. his own business, actually.”

you hum, kicking your feet back lazily off the counter. he takes a step closer.

“he loves his momma, a real mommas boy type. he’s on time, respectful, and knows how to treat ya like a real woman.”

you raise an eyebrow. “and just who would that be?”

he places his arms on either side of your thighs, trapping you on the counter.

“yer lookin’ at him, sweetheart.”

[drivinmeinsane]

Witness in the Dark

※ Sierra Six x Claire's Older Sister!Reader ※

{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 } ※ { requested fic }

※ Summary: Don't we all just want to feel the companionable reassurance of another human being?

It only takes a single tragedy to tear your life to shreds and make it to where you're unable to sleep through the night. You tell yourself that you will never trust a bodyguard again, but things don't go according to plan when a man with a number for a name is assigned to the Fitzroy household while your uncle is away

※ Rating: T for suggestive themes and canon typical violence.

※ Content/Tags: Slow burn, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Night terrors, Pining, Unspecified age gap, Movie based - Alternate Universe, No use of Y/N, Obsessive behaviors from both parties, Descriptions of injuries, Mentions of parental death, Mentions of past kidnapping, Mentions of past torture, Implied death of minor character(s)

※ Word count: 12,637

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

※ Author's Notes: I don't know what came over me. This really got uncontrollably out of hand and ended up being wildly self indulgent. Huge thanks for @danime25 for proofreading this. I owe you my life.

"Ladies!" Your sister's nurse calls as she walks into the room. "I want to introduce you to Six. He'll be looking after the house while Mister Donald is away."

You look up from your position next to Claire on her bed only to meet the eyes of the man following the nurse. They're startlingly blue. His face is impassive as he turns away and surveys the room. He carries himself with an easy grace that hints at the violence that his body could produce. He reeks of danger. You instantly don't appreciate his presence. You had fought with Uncle Fitz tooth and nail over hiring a bodyguard for the duration of his trip away from the home. This man’s presence here means you have clearly lost that argument.

"Only the two exits?" He questions, moving past the bed to stand at the ceiling to floor windows. 

"Yeah." Your tone is hard, biting. The nurse gives a small gasp at your rudeness and says your name disapprovingly.

The man, Six, turns away from the window to look at you with a raised eyebrow. You stare at each other silently, sizing the other up. There’s a flicker of some emotion that you might label as respect in his eyes before Claire, picking up on your hostility, throws her hat in the ring.

"We don't chew gum in this house." You've never loved your little sister's faux-snob act more than in this moment. She snaps a photo of him with her Polaroid, staged records forgotten. He doesn't look particularly pleased about it. It’s more exasperated acceptance than anger though.

He's silent for a moment before speaking. "I'm sorry. I wasn't briefed." 

There’s a trace of a smile on his face. It’s irritating and you have to look away from him. You stare at a record sleeve like your life depends on it. He asks for the photo and picks it up. You see a flash of a tattoo on his hand as he plucks the Polaroid off of the bedspread. Poorly done and worn with age. He’s definitely one of Uncle Fitz’s prison recruits then. One of the most morally dubious options he could have saddled you with in his absence. Perfect.

He says his goodbyes to you and Claire before leaving the room. Your heart is beating irrationally rapidly and your mouth is dry. The man with a number for a name is stirring up nothing but bad memories. You know you won’t sleep well tonight. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

“What kind of name is Six anyway?” Claire asks first thing in the morning after she tosses herself into a chair at the kitchen table. The man in question gives her a long look. 

"007 was already taken so…" He says with a relaxed shrug, coffee mug in hand. He's leaning against the kitchen counter in the same suit as yesterday.

You choke back a laugh at the sight of your sister's expression. You accidentally meet Six's eyes over her head. There's warmth in them that douses your amusement immediately. You sober up and turn back to your breakfast. Softness in someone doing his line of work felt… wrong. He isn't trustworthy, you decide, no matter how kind he acts. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

You wake up with a start. The coppery tang of blood mixed with the dry powder of concrete lingers in your subconscious. It takes several heaving breaths to clear your airway and bring you back to the present. You shakily sit up. You press your palms into your eyes. You try to forget the sensation of a knife in your skin. You're here. You're safe . You're one of the last people your sister has. You're the stable one.

You get to your feet in the dark bedroom and open your door to step out into the hall. You trail unsteady fingertips down the plaster and paint as you make your way to the kitchen and living area. 

There's a barely audible scuffle and you peer through the gloom to see Six stalking you. You catch the barest glimpse of his face in a strip of moonlight. It's intent. Predatory. There's no hint of recognition, not while you move through the darkest parts of the room.

You feel cold. Your pulse starts to hammer in your veins. Your throat works uselessly. Words won't come out of your mouth. You forge along to the kitchen and fumble for the light. The kitchen is awash in a blinding glow right as you feel heat against your back. It immediately withdraws as the bodyguard removes himself from your personal space. You don't turn to face him while you get a glass from the cupboard and fill it with ice and water at the fridge's dispenser. You stare blankly at the burnished steel while you take sip after sip.

You refill your glass. You blink. You take a drink. You pretend like your mind isn't shattered. You pretend like the man your uncle hired hadn't been about to…

"Are you alright?" Six's voice cuts through the fog in your mind. It's like a lantern has been lit to guide you back into the waking world.

You find yourself then and turn to look at him. You study him. He looks slightly rumpled and tired. There's tension around his eyes and his mouth is set in an almost apologetic frown. 

"Just another nightmare. Sorry for disturbing you."

The frown deepens. "You didn't. I was caught by surprise, that's all."

"Fair warning, me out here like this is probably going to be a regular occurrence." You smile wanly. "I know you want us in bed, but I don't do the whole staying put thing so well most nights."

He just nods. He's accepted your words without protest. The frown fades away.

You gesture with your glass in the vague direction of your bedroom. "I'm going to go ahead and excuse myself. Goodnight, Six."

"Goodnight." 

───※ ·❆· ※───

Weeks go by. The household falls into a comfortable enough routine. Claire ribs him good-naturedly every chance she gets. He's always got a faint aura of amusement every time she takes a shot at him. You hadn't yet seen him get angry. Pretending to be annoyed? Yes, but never actually expressing any negative emotion beyond mild exasperation. Not yet, anyway. 

He sends the both of you to bed every night after Claire's nurse takes her leave. You inevitably get up in the middle of the night after another vivid nightmare. Six is always either watching the camera footage or doing his rounds. He's stopped being surprised by your presence after the night he hunted you. You linger in the kitchen doorway night after night, watching him keep vigil. He's got a soft face, you've decided. There's tension there, likely from worry and lack of sleep, but not cruelty. You've begun to wonder if he has the capability for it. You know he must. Uncle Fitz has kept you in the dark about a lot of the work he does, but you know a kind man wouldn’t have been a candidate for whatever program your uncle runs. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

You're woken up a few nights later by the sound of hands scrabbling on your door. Your eyes snap open and you remain frozen for a second before you hear Claire's muffled voice. You're immediately out of bed so fast you stumble and twist your ankle painfully. You fling the door open and next thing you know, your little sister falls wheezing into your arms. "Something's… Something's wrong." She gasps out.

She can't breathe and is clutching at her chest with weak hands. Horror races down your back and you're pulling her into your arms in a clumsy embrace, desperately trying to keep her upright.

"Six!" The name is torn from you in a shout. You never thought you would be screaming for a man you'd told yourself you couldn't trust.

He's there in an instant. He puts a steadying hand on your back before he gently pulls Claire away and lifts her up into his arms. She wheezes again and both you and Six freeze.

"I'm okay." she whispers. She looks so small and breakable in the bodyguard's thick arms. Like a bird plucked from the sky, held the mercy of a giant's hands.

"Can you get the keys for the car and unlock it?" His voice washes over you. Its steadiness anchors you to reality. You manage a "Yeah." and take off through the house to the garage, making a pit-stop to snag the keys from their bowl. Your ankle is throbbing. Six is close behind, his brisk stride and long legs keeping time with your hurried scrambling. You mash the unlock button on the fob and throw yourself into the backseat. Claire is gently deposited in after you. Her head is resting on your lap. You comb through her brown hair with shaky hands. 

"Mount St. Mary's." You tell Six the moment he's halfway into the driver's seat. "They're the ones who put her pacemaker in."

He grunts in response, backing out of the garage. You don't remember when you handed him the keys or when the garage door was opened. You don't think about anything other than your little sister. You can't lose her too. You've already lost so much of your family and of yourself. The ride passes in a blur. You're only fleetingly aware of the passing lights. Your heart is hammering in your chest like it's beating for Claire and you both. You whisper pleas and promises to her, stroking her forehead with shaking hands.

You're pulled out of your trance by Six yanking the passenger door open, and you help guide your sister into his capable arms. The medical team whisks Claire into the back immediately the moment he has her on the stretcher. You're left in a stiff, vinyl chair in the waiting room. Bodies haven't been in it long enough to soften the material. You're filling out intake paperwork on your sister's behalf. Six stands next to you, hands clasped in front of himself. You glance over, checking his watch every few seconds, your leg bouncing in place. Nervousness and fear wash over you in all-consuming waves. 

He catches your glance as your eyes dart over yet again.

"You holding up alright?'' His questions surprise you. He rarely is the one to initiate conversations. His gaze is steady, grounding, blue eyes watching you intently.

"Not really." You admit, inhaling and exhaling jaggedly. He nods. There's tension around his eyes. Is he worried too? You have to look away from his face and instead talk to his watch. "She's my sister. I need to keep her safe. I can't lose her too."

You hear him make a noise in response. You watch the seconds tick by one by one on his watch. The two of you are silent for approximately thirty-seven of them before Six breaks the moment by undoing the metal clasp. He pulls the watch away from his skin, revealing a bar of ink across the underside of his surprisingly delicate wrist before he's handing it to you.

"Here."

You stare at the dangling watch blankly before looking up at his face. "What?"

"Keep it safe for me for a while." His tone leaves no room for argument. You reach out with hesitant fingers and take it from his grasp. The steel is warm in your hand. You swallow thickly and drape the watch over your wrist, waiting for the sickening feeling of having your hands bound to hit you. It doesn't. You clumsily latch the buckle. It's sized perfectly for the man diligently standing at your side, no possibility of tightening it without it being resized altogether. It hangs off your wrist like a loose bracelet and you realize then just how big Six is. 

He hides his mass well. His muscles are concealed discretely enough underneath blazers and tailored trousers. He simply doesn't take up space in whatever room he's in, always the expert at being unremarkable, unobtrusive, and not worth remembering. But this… this is a dead giveaway. You cast a sideways glance at his hands and, for a dizzying moment, you wonder how your hand would look pressed palm to palm with one of his.

"Miss Fitzroy. Your sister is cleared for visitors now if you would like to see her." A nurse's voice cuts into your illogical musings.

You stand up so abruptly that the chair you were just sitting on screeches agonizingly loud on the polished vinyl flooring before it thuds into the wall. The nurse flinches slightly, but Six is steady at your side. He falls into step behind you as you follow the man through the winding hallways to Claire.

The doctor stops you at the door, arm barring you for a moment before letting it drop. "She's stabilized. Tell your uncle there was a programming glitch. We were able to repair it. Non-invasive." She pauses for a moment, giving the man hovering behind you a hard look before continuing. "The remote system flagged it ten minutes before he pulled up."

"You're able to monitor from that distance?" You interrupt. 

"We can keep track of her pacemaker from just about anywhere. You may see her. She can be released later tonight after we have her under observation for a while longer.” The doctor catches your pinched expression and adds. “Just to be safe.”

You nod, gaze bypassing her to focus on Claire. She’s been watching the exchange and, at your attention, she pulls a weak smile under her oxygen mask while raising a pale hand to flash the rocker sign. The doctor finally steps aside but not before blocking Six as he makes to follow you into the room. “Only family allowed.”

You look at her incredulously and open your mouth to protest before Six cuts you off. “I understand. Thank you, Doctor.” His tone is bland, unemotional. He arranges himself to stand with his back to the inside of the open door. He’s obnoxiously in the way of anyone that would need to come or go. He spends the passing minutes as they bleed into hours standing there like a steadfast sentinel. Back straight, hand clasped over his right wrist, left wrist startlingly bare, head lowered in waiting supplication; he’s the very image of patient servitude.

You sit at your sister's side in your own vigil. The three of you wait in tired silence until a nurse finally announces Claire is free to be discharged. 

She fusses as she's helped into a wheelchair. You and Six stand aside, letting the staff fight the battle. They win, but as soon as everyone spills out of the automatic doors, she's pulling herself out of the mobility aid. She gently slaps away yours and Six's reaching hands when the two of you try to steady her. "Don't you dare."

"But-" you start to protest before you're immediately shut down. "I can walk to the car. I'm not that much of an invalid."

Six doesn't even try to say anything, just forges ahead through the parking lot like nothing happened. He's learned by now that there's no arguing with your little sister. The traitor. You and Claire make it to the vehicle after him and you move to slide into the back seat with her but she pulls a face.

"You're smothering meeeee." she exaggeratedly whines. You give her a flat look. "Smothered." she insists. She dramatically points at the front of the car and raises insistent eyebrows.

You end up buckling yourself into the front passenger seat with an exasperated sigh. You look over at Six. The tension has bled away from his face. He looks more relaxed, relieved even. He notices your stare and the two of you make eye contact. You roll your eyes pointedly at your sister’s antics. Six maintains a serious expression until it cracks and you’re rewarded with the bodyguard's smile.

Six's arm brushes ever so slightly against yours when he puts the vehicle into reverse and then into drive. The feeling of his warmth lingers like a brand on your skin. His watch hangs heavily around your wrist. You fight the urge to gently touch the gleaming metal and instead interlink your own fingers together hard enough to hurt.  

You spend the car ride sagged against the leather of the passenger seat, desperately trying to focus on the passing scenery and not the man seated next to you. Not his kindness, not the way he had kept you grounded. You tell yourself he was just doing his job. Any bodyguard would have been tender and careful with your sister…  and with you. You try to not read into what Six offering his watch to you for "safe keeping" might possibly mean.

Soon you're back at the house, waiting in the garage with your little sister while the hired man does a sweep of the building to make sure no one has breached the perimeter while it lay vacant. Claire is tucked against your side. She's bleary eyed with exhaustion. 

"Clear." Six's voice cuts into the silence of the garage.

You tow Claire along with you and sit her down at the table. She slumps with her cheek resting in her hand. You busy yourself with getting a bowl of ice cream set in front of her.

She gulps it down in huge mouthfuls. Six sits to your right at the head of the table while she eats. His eyes are focused on the screen of his laptop. You're sitting across from your sister, half curled up in the dining chair. The adrenaline has long since left your body, leaving you feeling heavy with exhaustion.

"You feeling better?" Six directs at Claire.

"Just another Thursday." She says with a shrug. "Uncle Donald and my sister say this is the best medicine. Ice cream. I tend to agree."

"They're smart people."

"Only family I got." 

Six’s response is instant, like he’ll choke on the words if he doesn’t get them out of his mouth fast enough. “Fitz’s the closest thing to family I’ve had in a long while.”

"Maybe that kind of makes us family." 

You catch the way that he smiles. He ducks his head to hide it, but you see the hopeless spread of it across his face. There’s something so tender and vulnerable in his eyes that you get stung by a pang in your chest. Your heart aches for the people sitting at the table with you. Claire for carrying the loss of your parents and Six for whose closest hint of a familial tie is his boss. You get pulled out of your spiraling thoughts by Claire yawning. 

"You should go to bed." His voice is soft.

You haul yourself to your feet, exhausting hanging on you like a blanket. You whisk Claire’s empty bowl away and gently touch her shoulder. “C’mon, you heard the man.” 

She grumbles a little and stands up with you. You’re about to guide her to her bedroom but she pauses and turns. “‘Night, Robot.”

“Goodnight, Claire.” He sounds exasperated with an undercurrent of amusement.

He doesn’t look away from the screen as you and your younger sister retire for the night. You fall into bed, wrung out from the hospital trip. It’s not until you’re firmly under the covers and settled into bed that you realize you’re still wearing Six’s watch. You stare at it, warring with yourself on if you should scrape yourself off of the mattress to go give it to the bodyguard keeping vigil at the table or to just set it aside to give to him in the morning. You do neither of those things. You fall asleep watching the silver metal reflect the moonlight peering through the shivering curtains. You do not dream of your past captors and their leering smiles that night. Instead, you dream of a comforting hand on your wrist, the gentle hum of a deep voice. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

The three of you settle back into routine following Claire’s hospital visit, but things have shifted slightly following that night. You gave Six his watch back the following morning before your sister got out of bed and before her nurse arrived for the day. He took it from your hesitantly offered hand. His thick fingers gently brushed your palm as he lifted the piece from it. Your wrist has felt desolate, too light ever since you took it off. You try to ignore it all, try to regain the distance you had before. You don’t succeed. Something about Uncle Fitz’s hired man keeps eroding the walls built from mistrust and agony. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

You snap awake, soaked through with rapidly cooling sweat. You’re certain you didn’t scream out. Your throat isn’t sore, but your face is wet, moisture clinging to your lashes. You must have been silently sobbing through your nightmare. You uncurl yourself from your tensed position and drag yourself out of bed. You walk through the darkened hallway to the kitchen. You make sure to roughly trail your hand along the wall and clear your throat. It won’t do anyone any favors to startle Six. 

You get your glass of water and make your way into the main sprawl of rooms. The bodyguard is sitting at the kitchen table, laptop open, as he is most nights. You pull out a chair and sit down with your glass. You look at it hollowly, trying to ignore the lingering terror from your nightmares. You can't but notice Six’s eyes flickering over to you now and again. There’s a concerned crease between his eyebrows.

“Rough night?”

“The usual. As Claire says, it’s just another Thursday.” Your voice comes out more bitter than you intend. You tighten your grip on your cup until it feels like it might shatter in your hand. You force yourself to loosen your clenched fingers. 

The man seated at the table with you gives an acknowledging hum, sedately chewing his gum. He doesn’t press, doesn’t try to force any explanations out of you. You relax a little in your seat. Having another human being awake and nearby is a comfort. You rest your cheek on your hand and observe him. He looks tired. The light coming from the screen serves only to highlight the weariness weighing down his face and stooping his usually rigid shoulders. Looking at him like this reminds you of the night you watched this man and your sister interact after he drove you both home from Mount St. Mary’s. 

“She’s happier with you around, you know.”

There's such a long silence following your unprompted comment that you don't think he'll respond but he finally does. "She's a good kid."

"Yeah. Yeah she is." You don’t think you could have clung to life in the wake of the incident without her there to be strong for. Most weeks, she was the only reason you bothered to try to function.

You drain the rest of your glass and stand up. The ice clinks. You dump it in the sink and put the cup in the top rack of the dishwasher. You felt wrung out enough to attempt sleep again. You pause in the doorway and look back at the man at the table. "Six."

He looks up, eyebrow raised. His lips are slightly parted. 

"'Night."

"Goodnight." You can’t decipher his tone.

Your nightmares don’t return that night. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

About a month later, you’re screaming and thrashing in your bed. You’re choking under your captor’s hands, the sensation of soaked cloth over your face. You feel the pressure of those cruel fingers on your throat, over your mouth. Water moistening every ragged inhale. You can’t breathe.

Six’s response is all but instantaneous from the moment he hears your first scream. He pushes your door open, one hand on the knob and the other wrapped around his drawn gun. He’s sweeping his eyes across the dark room, There’s no attacker to find, there’s only you writhing on your bed, plagued by your own mind. He holsters his weapon and goes to your side. He tries calling your name, but there’s no acknowledgement, only your panicked wheezing. He puts one knee on the mattress for stability and grabs your upper arms. He tries to shake you awake. That gets a reaction. You start fighting him. Your hands claw and hit at him. He ignores it and repeats your name, asking you to wake up with an edge of desperation to his voice. He’s wildly unprepared for this. A physical enemy he can handle, but this…

You come out of it, going limp in his hold. Your chest is heaving. You blink away the lingering horrors of your dream and look up at him, horrified. For a split second your panic flares anew until you focus on his face. You remind yourself that you know this man, that you trust him with your sister’s life. He releases his grip on you and leans to turn on your bedside lamp. You wince against the explosion of light before bolting upright to reach towards his face. He’s scratched and you wonder if he’s going to be sporting a black eye. He lets your fingertips rest on his cheek for a heartbeat, something unreadable in his eyes before he’s withdrawing his knee from the mattress and standing at the side of your bed. He’s the picture of composure.

“I’m so sorry.” Guilt is suffocating you almost as much as the man in your nightmare. 

"You don't need to apologize. I should. I wasn't briefed about how to handle it." He sounds genuinely sorry, a touch of distress bleeding into his tone. It twists the knife of guilt deeper. You feel your eyes start to well. 

"No, no it's not your fault.. I don't want to be like this, I'm sorry." The tears spill over. You turn your face away and scrub your hands over your cheeks.

He hesitates and sits down on the bed next to you. There's a yawning span of distance between the two of you. There's not a hint of anger or frustration coming from him, not even pity. just.... sorrow. Understanding.

"Fitz briefed me on your history." It's blunt. matter of fact.

"Then you know about the...." You hesitate. 

"Yeah.” He answers before continuing. “Does he know how bad it gets?"

"No… I never told him all the details. I didn't want to burden him. He's got enough to worry about." You shrink into yourself. Your eyes focused on the items cluttering your nightstand.

"Your wellbeing isn't a burden." There it is. There’s a taste of the anger you’d been waiting for in his tone. You squeeze your eyes shut.

"I'm the stable one, Six. I can't let everyone down again ." You laugh a little, self-deprecating. You press your palms against your eyes. Baring down until stars explode behind your closed eyelids. 

He hums, and you feel the shift of the mattress as he stands up. You think he’s leaving, disgusted with you and your emotions, but the heat of his presence doesn’t go away. The warmth of him bleeds through your sleep clothes. You can feel him looking down at you. You nearly jump out of your skin when he nudges your arm. You look up at him, startled. He quirks an eyebrow.

“Come on.” He says, offering his hand to you. You take it. He easily guides you up onto shaky legs.

He has you follow him down the hallway and to the dining table. A path as familiar as an old friend by now. He motions for you to sit at the table, and you mutely follow his direction. You hear him move around in the kitchen. He returns with a bowl of ice cream and a full glass of water. He sits both in front of you.

"I have it on expert authority that this should help. All the smartest people I know support it." He's so serious sounding. You look at him flatly. He holds his grave expression for a beat before he winks. You crack a teary smile and lay into the ice cream like it personally insulted you.

He settles into a chair across from you while you eat. He occasionally glances over at the open laptop’s screen to check the security footage, but his main focus is on you. You feel a little self conscious under his gaze. You scour your mind for something to say, anything to lessen the intensity he’s directing towards you.

"Do you ever sleep? Like… go to bed sleep?" The question comes out of nowhere. a flash of surprise crosses his face. You'd seen him cross his arms in his chair and tip his head back. Caught him leaning  against the wall, hands in his pockets, hip cocked for stability. But the thought of him actually dressing down into pajamas and tucking himself under the blankets  seems.... implausible. too soft for this man who is alert and buttoned up into his crisp slacks and fitted shirts no matter the hour of the day. You half supposed he showered in the damn things.

"Not as often as I should. I don't sleep easy either." The honesty surprises you. 

"Why?" It's probing but you're too exhausted and raw to care.

"Too many memories. My line of work isn't exactly conducive to pleasant dreams." You wonder if he would have been willing to be so open this entire time or if something changed between the two of you. When would it have changed? Were the moments you found significant also important to him? Was he starting to crave your company in the inexplicable way as you’ve begun to crave his?

You almost apologize to him for prying, but you stop yourself. You nod instead. You understand how it is to have a beast pacing the maze of your sleeping mind, pulling out the threads of your worst memories like entrails for you to witness over and over again. 

"I still think about it… About them." You admit. Your eyes skitter across the table like a frightened mouse, focusing on Six's watch face before darting away. You can’t tell the time from this distance. There is a pressure welling up in your throat. Something is clawing its way out into the open.

“Talk to me.” His request is firm, paving the way for your words. He takes his watch off, a mirror of the other night. It slips free of his arm in the same way, inky black revealed on the underside of his wrist, tendons shifting, the movements delicate. He sets the watch on the table in front of you. The metal links clatter on the polished wood surface. You glance up at his face, shadowed in the dim light. “For safekeeping.” He remarks.

You reach out and lift it from the worn surface, running your fingers over the band. The weight is soothing in your grasp. The seconds tick by and it feels as though your heart is trying to race them. You finally open your mouth and release your burden.

“Claire had her birthday party that day. It was the last good day we had with our parents. It was hard to keep the security straight since there were so many people in the house. I didn’t think anything was wrong when two men came up to me and introduced them as part of the security detail. I still didn’t think it was weird when they asked me to come with them. How could I have been so stupid ?” Your breath catches, anger palpable in your voice. Six twitches like he might reach out, but he stills and you continue.

“They got me out of the house. I wasn’t strong enough to fight them off when they put me in the back of the SUV. They… they kept me for days asking questions I didn’t know the answers to. They didn’t like that I didn’t know anything. They tried to be more persuasive… so I started making up things. I just wanted them to stop but they wouldn’t. The wrong answer or the right answer, it didn’t matter. They offered me in exchange for a ransom and eventually they pulled me out of the basement. My parents were there to do the handoff. The guys wouldn’t let anyone else do it. We made it about three miles down the highway before they caught up with us and shot out the front tires. I don’t think they expected anyone to live after we went through the guardrail, so they just.. drove off. Left. I don’t know how long I was in the car staring at my parents. Claire was too young to understand that I ruined her life. I’ve been waiting for her to realize what I did. She hasn’t yet but she will.”

“How did you ruin it?” Quiet, disbelieving.

“I got our parents killed. I shouldn’t have gone with those men. I should’ve known better.” You hear a noise like a wounded animal. A creature left for roadkill, great heaving breaths rattling in that damaged chest. It’s you, you realize dully, you’re the animal. There’s a large hand enveloping your wrist. It’s Six and he’s holding onto you. 

“How could you know?” He asks. You shake your head, a sob escapes you. You feel shame. Grief. Six’s hand squeezes almost tight enough to hurt. It grounds you, you can’t escape into your own mind. Not with that insistent pressure to stay . You feel the metal of his watch biting into the skin of your palm. It’s a good kind of ache.

“It wasn’t your fault. You trusted people you were meant to trust. Who could blame you for that?” he insists. His eyes are too soft, too kind.

“Uncle Fitz.” It slips out, involuntary. You would bite your own tongue off if it could take back the betrayal. You don’t dare to look at the man seated across from you. You had all but swung a bat at the person who he said was the closest thing he had to family. 

His hand withdraws from your arm, and for a moment you’re certain that he’s going to walk off and leave you sitting here by yourself. He doesn’t, he surprises you once again. He simply leans further over the table, capturing your hands with his before plucking his watch from your ironclad grasp. He lays it over your much smaller wrist. He handles you with so much gentleness it almost hurts. He secures the clasp and simply… holds your hands. He says your name and you look up 

“Your family loves you.” He states simply. He says it like it’s an indisputable fact. Like it’s something as true and honest as the rotation of the Earth. You nod mutely. You can’t argue, not when he says it with so much assurance. He gives your hands a final, comforting squeeze and stands up. He gathers up your dishes, bowl, spoon, and glass. The bodyguard makes a soothing gesture to stay seated when you make a motion to rise and help him. You listen to the domestic sounds of him running the sink and loading your used dishes into the dishwasher. Your eyes start to drift shut. There’s a weight off your lungs, your burden has been dispersed, even just for a little while.

There’s a soft touch to your shoulder. It’s Six and he wants you back in bed. You get to your feet and let him escort you to your bedroom door. You feel oddly nervous, fidgeting with your fingers and avoiding meeting the hired man’s eyes. It feels like the awkward end of a weird date where everyone was too uncomfortably honest.. No matter how delusional that sounds even to yourself.

“Goodnight.” he’s the one who breaks the silence first. You feel relieved. 

“‘Night, Six.” is your response as you put your hand on the doorknob and slip into the room, away from his unreadable gaze. When you fall asleep for the second time that night, you dream of steady hands marked with prison tattoos.

───※ ·❆· ※───

The morning dawns without preamble. It feels like you have barely laid your head on the pillow. You check the time on the watch hanging loosely around your wrist. Less than four hours have passed since your night terror and subsequent comforting via the household bodyguard. Your morning routine feels more laborious than usual. Every movement feels like crawling through tilled soil. 

You’re dressed for the day and walking into the kitchen when you hear your little sister badgering Six. 

“What happened to you, Robot?” she asks.

You pop your head around the corner to take a look at the man she’s addressing. You stop cold. It’s a mess. He’s a mess. The skin around his left eye is puffy and bruised. There's clear nail marks on his cheeks and down to his neck. Any exposed skin had taken the brunt of your panic. You can even see some redness through his facial hair. You feel sick, betrayed again by your body. Your own hands had tried to tear him apart. 

"Well..." he starts and shrugs his jacket off. He folds it and drapes it over the back of one of the chairs.

He's about to go on his outdoor rounds, which you and Claire have secretly dubbed ‘enrichment time’, and continue wearing a trail into the yard. If he’s feeling particularly comfortable, he might sneak a nap in one of the lawn chairs now that the sun is up. Provided that he’s sure the two of you are secure and can survive without him awake for an hour or so. 

"Your sister beat me in a fight. I'll have to hand in my championship belt." It's relaxed and easy. He gives you a conspiratorial wink when Claire rolls her eyes with a scoff.

You match his earnest tone with your own. "You should have seen it, I was about to get the folding chair and everything."

“Ooh-kay, I’ll just assume it was a weird sex thing,” she comments, turning back to her breakfast. “Looks like you already won his watch though. Congrats.” 

Silence follows. Claire smugly scrapes her spoon around in her bowl, capturing every last shred of cereal. There’s a self-satisfied smile on her face. Neither of you protest. Either you let it go and hope she loses interest in the bit, or you launch into a defense that will only get her to double down. No matter what, you’ll be the losers. 

Six pushes a heavy exhale through his nose and walks out of the room. You follow him right out the back door and onto the deck. The two of you stand there for a moment in companionable silence. It’s beautiful out here. The sun is a sedate creature in the sky. She's lazily casting her rays over the yard. The water in the pool is sparkling in it, lapping playfully at the concrete walls. Six’s shoulders are still tense in your field of view. He looks as though he’s holding himself up through sheer force of will.

“I’m sorry again about last night.” You say to his back.

“Please don’t be. Things happen.” He says with a sigh. You falter. He sounds as exhausted as you feel.  You don't want to push the issue. 

He gestures for you to sit in one of the deck chairs by the pool. You don’t, instead choosing to trail him as he does his rounds. He’s lit by the sun. You’re in his shadow. His hair looks like a field of golden wheat. You almost want to run your hands though it in order to feel the softness for yourself. You instead soothe the urge by toying with the band of his watch still loosely encircling your wrist. He looks back at you every once in a while, eyes dazzlingly blue in the bright sunlight. You had never noticed the angles of his face before, the curves of his nose with its distinctive bump, the set of his cheekbones, how his facial hair is darker than the hair on his head. You hate that you're noticing these details now. After the events of last night, any tentative bond feels tainted.

The morning grows warmer as you drift behind him like a ghost. Eventually he rolls his sleeves up to reveal his forearms. You start to understand why people in bygone eras got so flustered at the sight of a lady's ankle. His wrists are bodice ripping enough, you suppose, but the space from his fingertips to the crook of his elbow? That is home to so much previously unseen skin. Had he been rolling up his sleeves every morning? If you had simply looked out one of the windows, would you have seen the sight that you’re witnessing now?  Would you have seen the distinct veins trailing up the insides of his muscular arms? What about the tattoos whose mere existence beg to have a finger trace along his skin? You avert your eyes, not wanting him to notice you staring. You tell yourself that it’s just the novelty of it all, that the surprise at seeing him less buttoned up will wear off.

With the rounds done, the two of you are back at your starting point. The bodyguard settles onto one of the deck chairs. He lets out a borderline obscene groan as he lets his body relax against the wood. His eyes flutter closed. He shifts slightly, another noise escapes his throat as he does. You make your way to the chair next to him on shaky legs, and drop into it. He doesn’t stir. You debate on standing up, you don’t, the thought of leaving his side makes you anxious. You make yourself comfortable in your seat. 

Through the open window, you can hear Claire’s record player. You hear the notes of Feel the Warm. She’s playing Mark Lindsay again. You let it wash over you. The sunlight is dappled across this part of the patio. You cast a glance over at your companion. His arms are crossed and he looks dead to the world. Your own eyelids are drooping, He’s the last thing you see before you drift off.

You wake up gradually, it’s an easy kind of waking. No wild jerk of consciousness, just the soft trickle of awareness. You’ve managed to curl on your side in the deck chair. You squirm upright and feel cloth slide down into your lap. It’s the hired man’s jacket. He must have gone back inside to get it. You touch it with hesitant fingers and look up, scanning for him. He’s currently out of sight, but you do see Claire in the hammock chair across the way. She’s engrossed in her phone and frantically tapping at the screen. You check the time on the watch in your possession before you catch a glimpse of Six coming up the patio steps from the lower yard. He’s got a sandwich in one hand and his own phone in the other. He’s intent on the device. He glances up and accidentally meets your eyes. He jumps slightly as if startled you’re awake. He recovers and gives you a nod.

“‘Morning.” His mouth is full. You know Claire will give him the tongue lashing of a lifetime if she notices.

"It's after twelve." You playfully retort, watching unimpressed as he fights to swallow the bread in his mouth. He’s really struggling for a second before he gets it down, his throat working roughly. You get to your feet, carefully folding his jacket over your arm. You approach him with it. 

"Good afternoon then." He says quietly. You swear you catch the ghost of a smile on his face as he looks at you. 

“Thanks for the blanket.” You say, offering it to him. He takes it with his unoccupied hand before shrugging it on, doing a quick change of hands with his lunch. 

You move to take off the watch and return that as well, but he stops you with a disapproving noise. “You’re keeping that safe for me, remember?”

You pause for a moment, mind racing wildly with the effort to make sense of his words. To find meaning in them. Your hand falls away from the metal and you surrender with a mute nod. If he wanted you to keep it for him for a while longer, who were you to protest? It’s a strange kind of comfort to have it. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

Things come to another disastrous head some weeks later. It happens after the nurse sees Claire tucked into bed before heading home for the evening. It happens after you give your sister your own goodnight wishes. You had gently brushed her hair from her face and gave her a kiss on the forehead even if she scrunches her face in mock disgust each time you do. There’s no telling which moment between the two of you will be the last. You hadn’t had the luxury of knowing that your mom’s wet pleas for help would be the last gift from her in that twisted hunk of metal. You wanted your little sister to have a happy memory of you if a goodnight ever turned into a goodbye. Less nightmares that way.

You had stood up from your seat on the edge of the bed, made sure to smooth her blanket out. “Sweet dreams, Claire.” you said before you extinguished the slow glow cast by the lamp on her nightstand. 

“‘Night,” she had said to you before yelling. “‘Night, Robot!” in the direction of the door. 

You heard a weary sounding response from the ‘robot’ in question. Six was hovering in the hallway, patiently waiting to escort you to your bedroom door. He’s been diligent in performing the action every single night without fail since your impromptu wrestling session with him. He also hasn’t let you return his watch to him yet. You closed the bedroom door behind you, stepped into the hall and nearly brushed against the tall man. He moved back only enough to give you the barest clearance to get past him so he could trail after you for the scant few steps to your own door. It seems lately that he’s been standing closer to you. It also seems like his eyes have been lingering more on your face than the surveillance feeds at night when you emerge from your room, wide eyed and shaken from whatever terror that had gripped you. Your exchanged goodnights haven’t been anything out of the ordinary though, even if his voice was lower… more intimate than it used to be.

The bubble officially bursts for you when you abruptly jerk awake. You assume it was a nightmare you can’t remember, though you don’t feel any of the usual symptoms. There’s no tremors or wild breathing. You’re just… awake. You think about laying in bed and trying to drift off, but there’s a sense of unease you can’t shake. You make up your mind and shuffle over to the door. Like any other night, you turn the knob and walk out into the hall.

Like a snare snatching a rabbit, rough hands seize you. Your mouth is covered, fingers digging in harshly. And with a sudden drop of your stomach, you register the sensation of a gun pressing into your side. The metal’s coldness burrows though the thin layer of your sleep shirt. You’re frozen in shock, mind racing. Where's Six? Where's the bodyguard uncle Fitz had hired? He was supposed to protect you and your sister. Keep you safe. Why wasn't he doing his job? Why was this man in the house? 

Tears start running down your face without your permission. Your sobs are broken off against the inside of your mouth. They can’t escape the crushing pressure. A scream you can’t release is building in your throat. What if this man did something to Claire?

The gun digs in deeper, grinding against your ribs. He drags you down the hall and into the living room. It’s dark and you flinch as you feel something sharp dig into one of your feet. You whimper. The floor is littered with broken glass. The sound of it shattering must have been what woke you up. 

“Shut up.” the man holding you hisses, giving you a tooth rattling shake while he leans over your shoulder to see where he’s steering you. His breath is sour. “Where is he?”  He must mean Six. 

The bodyguard must still be able to present a problem if this man is asking about him. You’re not completely alone in this. It’s enough to sharpen your mind. To direct your focus. Your eyes are straining to make out anything in the darkness. It’s a mess of shapes that are so familiar in the daylight, but they look like strangers in the darkness. You manage to recognize the coffee table before the attacker does and you pull your leg out of the way. He slams into it and stumbles. He curses loudly through the pain of hitting his shin on the corner. You see your opportunity and savagely bite the hand covering your mouth. The saltiness of blood washes over your tongue but you bury your teeth in deeper. The tendons and nerves give way beneath your teeth. You go until you hit bone and hang on. Even if you don’t make out of this alive, you’re going to make damn sure this fucker doesn’t get to keep full use of his fingers.

He’s groaning, blinded by the shock of pain. You dare to release your hold on him in order to slam the back of your head into his face as hard as you can, throwing yourself into a backwards jump to do so. He lets out a wounded noise and clutches his face. He’s completely let go of you to do so. The gun is on the floor now, dropped in the surprise of your retaliation. You skate awkwardly on the glass as you make a run for it. The floor feels wet under your feet as you sprint for the hall. You’re leaving a trail of bloody footprints in your wake. The scream you’ve felt building weakly escapes. It’s a too quiet utterance of Six’s name. You can’t find the ability to yell as loud as you need to. You’re nearly sightless from a lack of light and terrified tears. You’re battering against the walls and furniture like a moth around a lightbulb. You make it halfway down the hall to Claire’s bedroom when you feel it. A brush of the assailant’s hand against your back. He shouts when he misses you, and you jitter to the side, making contact with the wall right as he slams into the floor. You put your back to it and look down, eyes wide enough in terror to make out the shapes of two struggling men. 

Six is on top of the man who had grabbed you. His silhouette is identifiable even in the murky dark. Relief turns your legs into jelly. He’s come for you after all. You allow yourself to go limp and slide down the wall, curling up on the floor. You squeeze your eyes closed so you don’t have to put a visual to the violence you’re hearing. It’s wet, crunchy. Eventually you only hear the heaving breathing of one man. You don’t know how long you sit there shaking. 

You’re coaxed into opening your eyes by Six’s voice saying your name. Your bedroom door is ajar and the light is on, illuminating the hallway enough to comfortably see, but not enough to where you can’t pretend the dark smears and streaks are shadows. The attacker isn’t in the hall any more. Six is kneeling in front of you. He’s got a cut on his cheek but otherwise looks unharmed.

“Are you with me?” It’s said with aching concern.

"Yeah… Yeah I'm here." You’re all too aware of your stinging feet, the ache of your muscles, the pain in the back of your head. 

Relief floods his face at your words. He reaches out but stops himself before making contact with you. You notice that his knuckles are split open and already bruising. His hand hovers in the space between your bodies, trembling slightly like he can’t bear to touch you but withdrawing is equally torturous. You rock onto your knees and shove yourself into his arms instead. They’re instantly around you. He holds you to himself. It’s all you can do to cling to him in kind. If you could nestle alongside the lungs in his chest, you would make a home in his rib cage. 

"You did well. I'm sorry I wasn't able to keep him from you. His pals kept me busy." His voice is full of bitter frustration. 

You shake your head and speak against his collarbone. “Is Claire okay?”

"She slept right through it. She's still asleep. I just checked on her." He soothes, running a hand up and down your back.

“Good…” you respond, unspeakably thankful. You could cry.

“Do I have your permission to pick you and take you to your bed? I don’t want you walking with your feet like this.” 

“Yeah, but I’m too heavy?” You’re surprised and uncertain. Sure, he had slammed around a grown man like a rag doll, but what if….

“Believe me, you’re not.” He sounds almost amused.

He eases you up onto your knees and over his lap. He encourages you to put your arms over his shoulders. It’s startlingly intimate. You can easily see the fine lines around his eyes at this distance. His breath is warm and against your face, smelling faintly of the watermelon gum he chews. You have just a second to try and process it before he’s gaining a foothold. He stabilizes you with one thick arm under your thighs and his hand on your back. You reflexively gasp and clench the back of his jacket in your hands. Each of his steps is steady. There’s no sign of strain even as he navigates your bedroom doorway. He carefully lowers you to the edge of your mattress and withdraws his arm. Your thighs release their death grip against his hips and you settle into place, feet off the ground. You avoid looking at his face, you know yours feels like it’s on fire. 

You notice that he had already moved your trashcan to your bedside and collected the first aid kit and a roll of paper towels. He must have known you’d cooperate with him. He drags your desk chair over and takes a seat. He pats his thigh encouragingly, and you place your heel right above his knee. He steadies you with a firm hand around your ankle. He removes the shards of glass. He doesn't let you jerk away, not with the grip he has on you, even when the tweezers catch on a particularly deep piece. He works in silence and you eventually allow yourself to lay flat on the bed while he does his task. You don't ask what happened to the man in the hallway. You don't ask how Six got detained in the first place. He doesn’t volunteer the information. The time passes and you’re halfway asleep by the time he’s tying off the wrap securing the bandages on your other foot and carefully easing your leg back down from its elevated position on his thigh. 

"Please stay." You ask the ceiling. You feel more than see Six freeze in response to your question.

“I shouldn’t.” He sounds conflicted. You prop yourself onto your elbows to get a better look at him.

“Do you not want to?”

“It’s not that. It’s anything but that.”

You bite your lip and decide to throw all your cards on the table. “I sleep better when I'm around you. You keep the nightmares away.”

He looks surprised, devastated even. His demeanor couldn’t have been any different than if you had asked him to bare his neck and slit his own throat. Resigned, but he would still pick up the knife for you.

"Give me a minute," is his response. 

He gathers up the supplies and turns off the light on his way out of the room, plunging you into the familiar dark of your room. You're not sure what exactly he does while he’s away, but he comes back sans jacket and with his sleeves rolled up. He carries the acidic tang of cleaning chemicals. He settles back into your chair after tossing the laptop on the desk. The two of you watch each other for a moment 

"Are you okay?"

"Emotionally? I've been better. Physically? I'm fine. Just a few scratches and a bruised ego. " He's soft. You nod, reassured.  

You keep your eyes on his face. It’s lit by the soft glow of the screen. It’s become an unhealthy habit, observing this man. You drift off to sleep facing in his direction. He's there when you wake up. He's clearly gotten up at some point to shower, but he did come back to resume his sentence at your side. You greet each other and he excuses himself back to the common areas of the home.

───※ ·❆· ※───

It becomes a thing, you spending time in his presence outside of what follows your nightmares. Something changed in you after the attack. It has culminated in a strong desire to be near him, to be within the frame of his reassuring gaze. Most of the time but not always, you go with him on his surveillance rounds. You walk with him through the yard. It always feels a little like you’re two society members having a chaperoned walk, but it’s soothing. Routine. You’ve also begun sitting with him in the hours before bed. At the table or on the couch while he watches the TV. The two of you simply exist together. 

You rarely return to your room most nights, choosing instead to make your bed in the living room. If you lay just right on the couch, you can spot the bodyguard keeping watch throughout the night. His presence in the room eases your mind enough to allow you to peacefully sleep. You wish that he hasn’t become so essential. You don’t want to think about what your uncle’s return will mean.

He accepts your new routine without question. You notice that he always has the throw pillow moved from the armchair to the couch on the nights you don’t tell him you’re going to bed. There’s no blanket in the living room, but you usually wake up with his jacket of the day draped over you in lieu of one. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

One night, you and Claire manage to bully him into a game of monopoly after the nurse leaves. You’ve been made the banker because Six doesn’t trust your sister and she doesn’t trust him enough either. 

“You just landed on my boardwalk. That’s fourteen hundred bucks.” Claire announces.

Six takes his hand off the game piece and gives her a look . “I thought you owned the brown properties, not the blue ones.” 

She picks up the deeds for Boardwalk and Park Place and waves them pointedly in his direction. “Nope, fourteen hundred. Fork it over.”

Six lets out a genuinely flustered growl. You have to smother your laugh. He counts out the remainder of his money and tosses it in front of your sister. He’s woefully short and out of assets. You and Claire had run him ragged the course of the game until she managed to bankrupt you with some suspiciously underhand tactics. Looks like she got to Six as well. 

“I’m out.” He says, resigned. 

Claire stretches her arms over her head and lets out a satisfied sigh. She then slumps back into her chair in smug victory as the bodyguard extracts himself from his seat at the table to do his nightly check of the doors and windows. She leans over and taps the watch on your wrist. 

“He hasn’t won this back yet?”

“Oh… uh. No.” Your answer sounds flustered, even to you. 

Your little sister raises her eyebrows. There’s a mischievous gleam in her eyes and she opens her mouth to say something before pausing. She instead gets up and gives you a squeeze around the shoulders. You return it with a one armed hug. “‘Night, sis.” 

“‘Night. I’ll see you in the morning.” You return affectionately, letting her go. 

“‘Night, Robot!” She cheerily shouts. There’s a responding grumble from the direction of the garage. Claire flashes you a grin and a thumbs up. 

She’s in her room by the time Six finishes his checks. You’re in the middle of putting up the game when you feel the weight of his eyes on you. It’s just the two of you alone.  He sits back down at the table to help you with it. He’s like a fire against your left side. You’re surprised he didn’t sit in his usual spot at the head of the table.

He lets out a yawn that he can’t suppress. He’s more undone tonight than you’ve seen him yet. He’s wearing a t-shirt tucked into slacks today. No blazer. His hair is tousled, not smoothed into place with product like usual. You think he looks more approachable like this. Your hands touch when you both go to scrape the same pile of deeds off the table. You both freeze. You hear your heart pounding in your ears and with it muffling every other sound, you trail your fingers over the top of his. He shudders when you brush over his knuckles and skim over the dots tattooed into the meat of his thumb. He doesn’t move, staying perfectly still for your exploration. You reach the horse on his forearm and you think his breath hitches in response. You linger on the horse, using your pointer finger to trace its outline. You follow the swoop of its tail, down the outstretched hind leg. 

A soft groan from the man you’re touching makes you remember yourself. You withdraw your hand like you’ve been burnt. He twitches and jerks his own hand towards you like he’s about to reach out and stop you, but he doesn’t. You can still feel the sensation of his skin under your fingertips even as you glue your eyes to the remaining monopoly money and sort it into the tray with unsteady hands. You finish putting up the game in silence. You sleep in your own bed that night. He escorted you to your room. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

You wake up weeping the next night. You lay on the couch staring at the living room ceiling while tears involuntarily run down the sides of your face. The imprint of spider webbing glass still swirling around in your mind. You must have made some kind of noise, because Six is making his way across the room. 

You sit up and take a swipe at your face. “I’m sorry.”

"You have to let it out somehow. May I?” He asks, gesturing to the space next at your side. You nod and scoot over to give him slightly more space.

He puts the ever present laptop with its surveillance feed on the coffee table before sitting down. You feel your cushion dip. Against your better judgment, you lean against him. He’s solid. He relaxes underneath the pressure of your body. You instantly feel better. You watch the cameras with him for a while, sighing along with him as the local monkeys throw the lid off the trashcan at the curb in search of a meal. You’ll have to clean up after them after the sun rises. It’s one of the downsides to living in Hong Kong. 

You stay leaning against him for a while, but a stiffness in your neck gets you to change position. Moving slowly so he’s fully aware of your movements, you carefully lay down. He’s taken the place of your improvised throw pillow cushion. Your head is resting on his thigh. He puts his hand on your upper arm and gives it a reassuring squeeze. He leaves it resting there, heavy and warm. 

You wake up a few hours later. The sun is cascading through the living room, throwing rainbow hues on the floor thanks to the decorative glassware. You’re comfortable, too comfortable you realize. Your eyes widen in horrified surprise. You’re still using the bodyguard as a pillow. He's shifted slightly through the night, more slumped and relaxed. He's slid down further, and your face is firmly pressed against his hip now instead of his thigh. You know that you’re going to have the imprint of one of his belt loops on your cheek. His arm is loosely draped over you with his hand tucked underneath your side, a bastardized attempt at spooning. You crane your neck to catch a glimpse of his face. He’s sound asleep. 

You try to sit up without disturbing him, but his arm tightens around you and applies pressure. You’re locked into place. Your mind races. If the nurse or, worse, Claire comes into the room and sees you and Six like this… You have to get up. You put a hand on his thigh and use it as a support to push yourself up. He’s instantly awake from the overt movement. He lifts his arm off your body and lets you sit up. You turn to say something, but find him already staring. His blue eyes are focused on you, they’re sleepy and confused but quickly sharpen to alertness. He looks vaguely distressed. All you can do is offer him a smile and squeeze his leg. You stand up and he follows. Your day goes as usual.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Your nights are largely the same, except that Six seems more distant. He doesn't linger as closely or as comfortably as he did before. Your interactions with the man are more professional. It’s as though weeks, months , of getting to know each other have been erased and you’re back at the beginning. Strangers again. It hurts. You miss him like hell even though he’s right there. Your sleep is worse. It’s almost as bad as in the weeks following the incident that started them in the first place, but they’re different. Amongst the disjointed scenes, there’s a broad shouldered man with dirty blond hair walking away from you in your nightmares now. You scream for him but no sound ever escapes you, just noiseless air. You never see his face. 

You finally have enough when he escorts you to your room one night. You haven’t slept on the couch for over a week, and he’s taken that as his cue to resume seeing you to your bedroom door. You turn to face him as always in the doorway. Instead of saying goodnight like you do every night, you confront him. It even catches you by surprise.

"You're avoiding me.” He doesn’t deny it and you think that hurts more than the newfound distance itself. 

“Why?” You ask only to get more silence. He won’t look at you. 

”What did I do wrong?” Your voice trembles and you hate it. You fumble to take off his watch, to return that final tie between the two of you. He reflexively clamps down on your wrist before you can undo the clasp, pinning your hand to your own wrist. He releases his near crushing grip almost immediately, but the ghost of it lingers. Point taken. You let your arms fall to your side in a clear display of frustration, willing him to talk.

“It wasn’t you. I  overstepped. Your uncle hired me to do a job and I've stepped beyond my purview. " The confession is rough. Torn out of him. The corner of his mouth pulls down in a grimace.

You stare at him blankly. "What?"

"I allowed myself to be too close with you. I apologize. I was unprofessional." He explains, but he won't quite meet your eyes. He hasn't for a while. Not since the morning following the night you fell asleep on him.

"You were... unprofessional?” You question, absolutely lost.

"Yes. I let my feelings about you affect me and my work.. I’ve become… compromised." It's matter of fact. It’s said like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on you.

You reach out and grab his jacket lapels. He looks at you like a beaten dog might, as though you might strike him. He makes no motion to pull himself from your grasp. You swallow hard and let out a breath.

"What about my feelings for you?" You ask. His breath catches and he shakes his head, disbelieving. 

“It would be better if you didn’t feel anything for me.” There’s heartbreak in his blue eyes even as he looks at you like there’s nothing else in the world he would rather be seeing. 

“Better for who?” Your mouth is unbearably dry as you ask the question.

“You. I’ll only jeopardize you.”

”Six…” 

You pull him down and you press your mouth against his. He's rigid and unmoving for a moment before he's kissing you like a dying man who has just been offered immortality. His hands come to rest on your back. He grips your clothing like it’s a lifeline keeping him from going under. You gently nip at his bottom lip and he gasps against your mouth, a broken little noise. He tastes like watermelon gum.

 You pull away. “Jeopardize me then.

That forces a quietly helpless laugh from him. "Now that was unprofessional." His voice is hoarse.

"I had to give you a proper example." 

"Good job. I feel exampled.”

" Good ." You say and kiss him again. He's ready for it this time. He keeps it slow. His hands gently trace your body. He's slowly rubbing his thumb back and forth against your side. You step back, walking him into your room. His breathing is ragged and he's gripping you with a desperation you can’t put your mind around. You stand there, intertwined in each other. His facial hair is rough against your skin but the burn feels good. Your hands make their way around his neck and you gently card your fingers through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He makes a wounded sounding noise in response before he pulls away. His hand is cradling the side of your face to keep you in place while his eyes roam across your face. It's as though he’smemorizing you, imprinting the fine details of this moment into his mind. As though he’s preparing to say goodbye. He trails his fingers gently down your jaw before he lets his hand drop.

"Will you stay? Can we sleep?" You ask before he can make up a way to excuse himself.

There’s a dizzying moment of silence before his face softens. “Okay. Yeah.”

The two of you are left to navigate the awkwardness of getting ready for bed. You spin your finger around in a circle and Six immediately gets the idea. He puts his back to you while you change into your sleepwear as quickly as you can. You turn around after giving him the verbal ‘all good’ in time to see him pull off his jacket and toss it onto the desk chair he had occupied when you first realized how addicted you were becoming to him. He pulls his belt off, coils it around his hand before setting it aside. You watch him unbutton his dress shirt. His fingers work deftly to slip the buttons through the holes. He shrugs the shirt off and lays it over the jacket. He’s in his undershirt and slacks. He bends down to untie his shoes and sets them aside. He straightens up and there’s nervousness on his face. You’ve never seen him nervous before. Worried? Yes, but not nervous. 

You slide into the bed and fold down the other side of the blanket for him. You gesture for him to come lay down beside you. He approaches warily and settles in stiffly at your side. His head is on the pillow, hands overlapping on his stomach. He looks like a body in a coffin. You gently touch his hands. He jolts.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly, letting your hand rest on top of his.

“I haven’t slept in the same bed as someone since I was a child,” he admits.

“Oh… and that was…?”

“Over twenty-five years ago.”

You allow yourself a moment to grieve for this man before you pull away to shut off the bedside lamp.. You roll onto your back and flop your arms to the side. “Come here then. I’ve used you as a pillow. It’s time for me to return the favor.”

You feel the mattress shift under his weight and he hesitates, hovering over you with arms braced on either side of your body. It’s intimate, having him over you in this way. It’s enough to make you want to kiss him again.You hear him draw breath to raise some kind of concern so you just wrap your arms around him and pull him down on top of you. The weight of him pins you into the mattress. It’s comforting. He’s heavy and warm, akin to a weighted blanket. Granted, a weighted blanket wouldn’t have a muscular thigh wedged between your legs or be breathing against your neck in a way that makes you want to shiver. You fight to ignore your body’s response to him and work on easing the tension that’s holding him rigid against you. 

He gradually relaxes as you trace your hands over his back. You feel more than hear him groan when you pass over a particularly sensitive spot. The rumble feels almost like a purr against your chest. You narrow in on that location, working your fingers into the tight muscle. He allows himself to go limp on top of you, no longer stiffly trying to spare you the brunt of his mass. You run your fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp as a reward for letting himself relax. It earns you a low moan and an involuntary shift of his hips. You’ll have to keep that reaction in mind for later. 

Six’s breathing soon evens out. Years of exhaustion and sleep deprivation have him rapidly sinking into the oblivion of sleep when offered such a precious comfort. You fall asleep with your hand still in his hair. You have the most peaceful rest of your adult life. There’s no night terrors, no pain, no fear, no longing, you just sleep .

The bodyguard is still asleep on top of you when you wake. His breath is whistling slightly through his nose. Not quite a snore, but it’s a sound that gets a fond smile out of you. You wish you could wake up like this every morning. Just this once has given you an insatiable longing for more. You bite the inside of your cheek at the thought of the future. Uncle Fitz is due to return from his trip soon, which means the dismissal of Six from the Fitzroy home to complete whatever assignment is next on his task board. You don’t figure him for the abandoning type though. That way of thinking about him doesn’t fit in with the loyalty and thoughtfulness you’ve seen him exercise in his time spent with you and your sister. You’re sure that he’ll find a way to stay in contact after this job ends. 

You gently smooth down his hair. He shifts and buries his face against the hollow of your throat more firmly. You pause, hoping you didn’t wake him, but then you hear a sleep roughened voice say, “Don’t stop on my account.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

[itsspiiit]

Unexpected…

Parings: Hobie Brown x Reader

Summary:You’ve been staying up at ungodly hours due to the bountiful amount of work you had from school. Your good friend Hobie comes over one night to help you stop your stressing and sleep. But the night had different plans for you both.

Inspo: Wet by GRLWood

Warning(s): NSFW (mdni), mutual masturbation, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, mentions of sex work, NOT proofread (cause I didn’t feel like it). If you see any errors… no you didn’t.

Thursday, 3AM

You sat at the desk in your room typing away on your laptop with a bowl of various fruits next to it. The flexi rod curls you put every ounce of arm strength you had into almost didn’t exist anymore. Your reading glasses slid from the bridge of your nose to the tip of it, making it easier to see the chanel bags slowly forming under your eyes. Unknowingly, your back hunched over the longer you sat down and tried to complete the third essay assigned to you this week.

You were exhausted. But you had a fuck ton of english work to do and insomnia kept you awake. Your regret for majoring in psychology grew with every indentation and word you typed on the keyboard.

Just as you were about to start typing the third to last paragraph, a soft rhythmic knock on the window startled you. Your body jolted at the unexpected sound causing your glasses to slide further down your nose. Using your middle finger to push them back to their proper position, you turned your head in the direction of the window and almost all of your stress left your body when you saw him.

Hobie, your best friend with the cool hair, stood outside with his contagious smile painted across his face as he waved at you with his long, slender, ring decorated fingers. His torso was covered halfway with a black crop top you ripped and designed for him and a spiked leather vest you spray painted the anarchy symbol on the back of. He wore black ripped jeans that were secured on his hips by a spiked belt and chains dangling from the belt loops.

Fuck, he looks so good.

Pushing your thoughts to the side, you pushed your chair back and stood up to open your window for for the 6’5 man. “Hey, Hobie.” You greeted him with a soft smile, watching him climb into your room and start to take his boots off before closing the window. He walked towards your bed and threw himself on it, placing his hands behind his head and crossed one leg over the other.

“Wagwaan.” He greeted back with a lopsided smile. His smooth, deep voice and british accent always sounded so sultry to you. Every time you guys talked it felt like a challenge to see how long you can keep your self respect before you up and pounced on him.

“Well,” you began to respond as you sat back in your desk chair and tossed a grape into your mouth, “it’s three in the morning and I’m trying to finish… what? Like… the third, fourth essay I was assigned? Been working on it since probably ten or eleven.”

His beautiful pierced face immediately fell into a shocked expression with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and frustration. “You haven’t taken a break, have you?” All you could is shake your head and let out a long stressful sigh as you looked at your computer screen with visibly tired eyes.

“Not only is it because I can’t sleep, but I wanna get everything done ASAP. My work is do on Sunday an-”

“It’s due Sunday?!” He cut you off, his tone bursting with disbelief. You felt a laugh bubbling up in your chest hearing his thick accent but held it in, reaching into the bowl and eating a pineapple chunk. “You know that’s in three days, right?” He continued as he pressed his elbows into your soft mattress and sat up giving you a look that read “are you serious?”

“Of course I know that, but-”

“But nothin’, mate. Close the computer.” He cut you off again, gesturing his head towards it.

“Hobie-”

“Close it.”

Not having the energy to go back and forth with him, your eyes rolled in annoyance and you shut your laptop. You turned your head in his direction and saw that a closed mouth smile was painted across his face. “Oh, you’re happy now?” You asked with a deadpanned expression.

A low chuckle escaped his throat watching you mug him as he nodded his head. The sound had you doing backflips mentally as your face began to heat up slightly. “Knowin’ that you aren’t nose deep into a screen goin’ mad about somethin’ that’s due in seventy two hours? Yeah, I’m quite happy.”

He swung his legs off your bed and sat up, reaching over to grab a mango chunk and tossed it into his mouth. As he chewed he saw your face drop into a “are you deadass?” look. He stopped chewing for a moment, awkwardly looked to the side and back to your face.

“Yeah, Hobs! You can take one!” You voiced with sarcasm as you threw your arms up and back down to your sides. He gave you an apologetic smile as he started to slowly chew the sweet and refreshing fruit again. “What made you come here at this time of night though? Can’t think of anywhere to steal from?” You asked playfully with a teasing smirk.

A light laugh came from him as he finished chewing before he responded. “I actually didn’t feel like stealin’ until you mentioned it.” You chuckled and shook your head at his antics. “But, nah. I couldn’t sleep and I knew you’d be up so I thought why not come over and bother you.”

“Ahhh… so what you do almost every day!” Both of you erupted into laughter at your comment. He knew that you were joking, and you knew you enjoyed his presence a little too much.

“Oh, come out of it. You know you love when I’m around.” He spoke as you guys’ laughter died down. Placing his hands on your bed, he leaned back bit and gave you a cocky smile.

Oh, he know he fine.

“Eh, sometimes.” You shrug playfully, reaching into the fruit bowl and munching on another grape. He reaches for the bowl again and takes a kiwi slice, but you don’t mind this time.

Once he done chewing he begins to speak. “Are you saying that because I always beat you in Uno?” You gave him a bored expression as you watched the smile on face grow.

“Hobie, please. You beat me that one time-”

“And I beat you three times in a row.”

You scoffed at his cocky behavior and crossed your arms. “I bet it won’t happen again.” You eyed him up and down with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

He gave you the same look as one of his eyebrows lifted in feigned curiosity. “Is that a challenge?”

It was now four in the morning. You sat on your bed with your back against the headboard and the gorgeous punk sat in front of you with crisscrossed legs, his leather vest now off his shoulders and hung on the back of your desk chair. You guys were two intense Uno games in, Hobie being the winner of both of them.

“Uno.” He announced with a lopsided grin as he placed a yellow three card and red three card down at the same time. You were starting to lose hope. You held the two cards you had thinking hard about the multiple possibilities of how this game could end. Until…

“UNO OUT!” You exclaimed slightly with a proud grin as you slammed a red skip card and red eight card down. You finally won a game after what felt like hours of playing.

He also gave you a proud smile as he began to pick up all of the cards that were piled on your mattress. “You finally beat my streak. ‘M proud of you.”

The voice. The Smile. His Confidence. Now the praise. It was all slowly becoming too much. His comment made your heart beat a bit faster, waves of heat traveling from your head and down to your lower region. It caused your sensitive bud to throb gently, and you crossed one leg over the other to somehow bring it to a halt.

He’s gonna be the death of me, I swear.

“Wanna play another game?” He asked when he was done picking up all of the playing cards. You sighed softly as you crossed your arms and shook your head.

“Nah, I just wanted to beat you in at least one game of Uno. Got tired of you talking shit.” He chucked at your confession and wrapped the rubber band you used to keep the cards together back around them. “But we can play connect four if you’re down. I’ll definitely win the first game.”

“Oh, I’ve got to see this.” He spoke with a sarcastic laugh. “I’ll go get the game.”

He got off your bed and walked towards the closet, opening it and instantly scanning the top shelf for the box. You pulled your phone from underneath your pillows and scrolled through instagram as you waited for him to come back with the second challenge for the night. Your cluttered top shelf slipped your mind as you thought you wouldn’t even have company today.

When he found the game, he tried to pull it out of its position without knocking anything down. But it all happened so quickly. As he began to pull the Connect 4 box out, so did Candy Land which was right beneath it. He reached his unoccupied hand out to make sure that game didn’t fall in the process, but he didn’t know that these two board games were keeping a pink Shoe Dazzle box from falling as well.

He successfully got Connect 4 from your top shelf without another game falling, but he didn’t see the pink box making its way out of the closet as well. When it fell, it landed on the side which caused the top to fall off as it hit the floor. He looked down and watched what was inside of the box roll out in awe.

Various sex toys with different shapes, sizes and functions were now scattered across the floor in front of her closet. A pink massage wand, black seven inch dildo and a black silicone butt plug with a blue gemstone on the bottom of it were the main toys that caught his attention since they were so close to his feet. He wanted to speak. He tried to speak. But he was too stunned to try and even utter a word.

There’s no way she has all of this. Am I dreaming?

The sound of the box hitting the floor made you look up from your phone with a confused expression, but it was immediately taken over with disbelief and shock. Your eyes were so wide you’re surprised they didn’t fall out of your head. Your jaw hung so low it would probably hit the floor if you were standing. The gasp you let out was so sharp and loud it made Hobie turn his head in your direction. You can see the disbelief in his face as well and that alone made tears start to form into your eyes.

All you could do is grab a pillow and sit it on your lap, plop your head on it to hide your face and scream. Your face was so warm in embarrassment that it felt like it could melt off any second now. You can feel your friends stare on you, searching for answers in a way, but you couldn’t even look at the man.

There was a long, unbearable silence between the both of you. So much tension in the room that it could be cut with a knife. You sat with your face buried into your pillow, take deep breaths to calm yourself down before you finally built the courage to get off your bed and walk towards the “mess” that was created. Without looking at the handsome man next to you, you squatted down and placed the box down with the opening facing the ceiling and began putting everything back where it was before.

“Uhh… you need help with tha-” Hobie spoke awkwardly in attempt to break the loud silence. He put his hands up in surrender and backed up a bit when he saw you side eye him with a displeased expression.

(I had to use the picture this was the PERFECT opportunity to do so 😭)

You continued to pick up your toys, still without uttering a word or even looking at him. From your peripheral vision you saw his feet step away from his position next to you and heard his footsteps stop where your bed was located. You assumed he sat and your bed again, maybe to give you some space. You picked up the cardboard top and slammed it onto the box when you were done picking everything up, instantly getting up and putting it back on the top shelf in your closet.

You kept your head down as you closed the closet and walked to your previous spot before all of this: your desk chair. Still not being able to look at the company on your bed, your hand reached for your closed laptop until…

“Don’t even think about it, bruv.” Hobie stopped you with a playful scowl in his tone crossing his arms. All you could do is let out a dramatic sigh, cross your arms on the desk and place your head on them, hiding your face once again.

Hobie eyed your movements the entire time. He understood why you were embarrassed, wanting to curl yourself into ball and just hide. But he didn’t understand why you were acting this way towards him. Of course he was shocked that you out of all people had all of this… material. You’re the introverted, shy, kind of nerdy and laid back friend. Always at home with your head stuffed into a comic or manga, loved sleep more than anything, would rather write than talk. Just the opposite of him and he didn’t mind that.

But he didn’t understand why you thought he cared about your secret box so much. This wasn’t gonna make him think about you any different. If anything, he was more curious and a bit turned on after finding out such covert information.

He decided to try and break the silence again. “This isn’t as bad as you’re makin’ it seem, love.” You can hear the sincerity in his tone, his sultry voice and the pet name he used still had your sensitive bud aching for attention.

He couldn’t see it, but your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his statement. “What do you mean?” You questioned without lifting your head.

“It was a little unexpected, but it’s not botherin’ me in any way. Your personality isn’t in that box.” His honesty never faltered as he let out a light chuckle, gesturing his hand in the direction of your closet.

You scoffed at his statement in disbelief, finally sitting up and crossing your arms as you gazed at the wall in front of you. He was starting to get annoyed at the lack of eye contact and he sucked his teeth, glaring at the side of your face. “Look at me, mate.”

You heard the seriousness in his voice, and you closed your eyes taking a a deep breath before opening them and turning your head in his direction. Finally locking your eyes with his, you searched for any vacillation that could be hidden. But there was only sincerity. He meant every word he said.

“I’m sorry, Hobie. It’s just…” You trailed off looking to the side for a moment before looking back him. “You saw everything in that box. My childhood best friend doesn’t even know what’s in there. How am I supposed to believe that you don’t care about what you just saw?”

“Because I don’t.” He shrugged with a sarcastic laugh. “If I’m bein’ completely honest, the only thing I’m wonderin’ is how and why you have so many. I’ve never met someone with a box full of sex toys. Shit, I don’t even have that many.”

Your face fell into a curious expression as you listened to his words. “You have sex toys-”

“It’s not about me right now.” He spoke quickly shaking his head.

You chuckled at his quickness to dismiss your question. “Well, to stop your wondering…” You trailed off again with a sigh, scratching the back of your head nervously.

Am I really gonna tell him this?

You saw his eyebrows raise, eager to hear what you had to say.

Might as well just tell him. It doesn’t make sense to hide this now.

You blew a raspberry, preparing yourself to inform your friend of your biggest secret. “Long story short… I’m a sex worker. About a year and some change now. The financial aid package I receive from my college falls short on covering the cost of the tuition and other expenses. I don’t wanna put myself through five hours of class and then seven to eight hours of labor to make ends meet. So, I started looking into sex work. Seeing how much I could possibly make, the different types of content that people would pay for, the fact that I’d be working any time and anywhere I wanted was a plus as well. Now, here I am: I make about eight hundred dollars weekly, two to three thousand monthly. It’s enough to make sure I can pay for college and still do what I want.”

When you finished your confession, Hobie was left speechless with a slack jaw. He blinked a couple times to try and process the information he was given. His friend who couldn’t even socialize for more than two hours… Is a cam girl?

…Why is this kind of hot?

He picked up his jaw and cleared his throat, shaking the thoughts out of his head with a deep sigh. His behavior made all of the negative feelings you had before resurface. You looked down at the floor with shame as you shook your head.

“I knew I should’ve just kept my mouth shut-”

“No, no, no, no, no!” He quickly stopped you from finishing your sentence waving his hands. “I meant everythin’ I said before. None of this is gonna change my perspective of you. It’s just…”

He trailed off, the naughty thoughts he had slowly clouded his mind again. He felt his blood slowly rush to the head of his member thinking about the fact that he was sitting on the bed that you made some of your content on. You could’ve made yourself cum on the sheets you currently have on your mattress today, and thought of him sitting in the spot where you probably left a big, creamy mess was driving him mad.

“Hobie?” You spoke with a bit of worry as you noticed him zone out. You watched as he swallowed thickly and blinked twice, the leg that hung off your bed beginning to sway from side to side. You bit your lip to hide the smile that was threatening to paint your face at the scene.

Ahh, I see what’s up.

He felt his length throb softly, the feeling made him groan but he attempted to hide it with a deep, throaty chuckle. The sound not only made your entrance clench with need, but it gave you a bit of confidence to say your next words.

“Do you wanna see how I make my content?” The slight seduction in your voice caught him off guard, his head shot up to look at you with a shocked expression. You could see the desire in his eyes start to expand at your question.

“Wai- what?” He stammered breathlessly. He didn’t know where your sudden boldness came from, but he didn’t mind as it made it him throb again, his manhood slowly becoming erect.

“I know you heard me, Hobie.” You answered teasingly with a voluptuous grin and. “It’s a simple yes or no question.”

There goes that silence again. Sexual tension building as you eyed each other down. Once you both saw that y’all were on the same page, you smiled at each other with a knowing glint in your eyes. Y’all began to stand and walk towards each other with only one thought in mind:

“Finally.”

You were now laying on your bed with your torso completely exposed, showing off the nipple piercings that Hobie didn’t know you had. He swore it was as if he was finding treasure with every second he spent with you. Your legs were spread wide open to expose the red lace thong you’ve been sporting, revealing a small wet stain that your aching core left on it.

Hobie sat in your desk chair that he moved to the front of your bed, his torso also completely on display. The sight of his lanky yet toned and muscular physique only made you wetter. His boxer briefs were still attached to his lower half, his erection very prominent and aching to see what was next. Your tripod stood next him with your phone placed on it horizontally as it recorded.

“I’m so wet for you already. Dripping through my thong for you.” You spoke seductively, moving your body closer to the tripod and gorgeous man in front of you. Even though you looked into camera the whole time, he knew every word was meant for him.

“I only get this wet for you, baby. I’ve been waiting so fucking long to show you how I make myself cum when I think about you.” As if read each other’s minds, both of you placed a hand on your chest and slowly dragged it down to your most sensitive parts. Your hand slid inside your thong as his began to gently palm his shaft over his boxers, biting his lip to hold the groan that was ready to escape his throat.

The hand you slipped into your underwear made it’s way to your throbbing clit, your natural juices already coated all over your flower. You slowly and gently began to rub your sensitive button in circles, a low moan escaping your lips at the smooth feeling. The sound of your arousal squelching echoed off the walls in your room, drawing a low grunt from the half naked man at the foot of your bed as he continued to palm himself.

“I’ll show you how pretty she is, only if I get to see how hard the sound of my needy pussy made you first. Can you do that for me?” You continued to play with yourself, applying the tiniest amount of pressure. He immediately lifted his hips and slid his boxers off of his hips with ease.

His length was finally revealed to you, springing out effortlessly with him sighing blissfully at the feeling. Watching it slap his stomach gently, the tip going past his belly button, had you moaning at the sight. Your leaking entrance clenched with need as you thought of his member thrusting into you slow and hard, the prominent veins rubbing against your smooth, wet walls deliciously.

“Mmmm~ that dick is so pretty.” You admitted as you lifted your hips to remove your thong. You slid it off your legs and threw it in a random direction away from you. Your other set of lips spread slowly as you opened your legs again, showcasing your beautiful sensitive flower glistening with your wetness. “It’s so hard for me already, babe. I know you wish you stretching this tight, wet, warm pussy with every inch.” Your hand reached for your slit, spreading your labia to display your opening.

It was already starting to become too much for Hobie. The way you uttered such naughty words with ease, how you played with your beautiful pussy so delicately, the way you looked into the camera with such lust and longing desire. He bit his lip at the alluring sight before him, eyes rolling back as they closed for a moment when his shaft throb for attention.

You moved your hand so that you were touching your delicate bud again, letting out a pornographic moan as you started to rub it in circles again. “I wanna watch you make yourself feel good too, baby. Spit on your hand, get that aching cock nice and wet for me, and stroke it nice and slow. I don’t want you getting close too fast, okay?”

He instantly did what your smooth, gentle voice commanded him to do. The sensation of his moisturized hand slowly sliding down to the base of his length made a deep groan fall from his lips. He slid his hand up to his tip with the same pace, hissing at the feeling of himself softly pulsate in his grip. He found a rhythm rather quickly, a rhythm that already had his head lulling back in bliss as he imagined it was your pretty, dripping hole gripping him gently as you rode his erect member.

“Mmn~ fuck.” You whimpered as you felt your opening leak more of your sweet extract at the lustful view of his now glistening girth pulsate in his slender hands. The friction of his hand spreading his spit around him could be heard as he watched you play with yourself. “You’re throbbing so hard for me already. You like watching me play with my needy pussy for you, baby?” Your hand moved downward to tease your leaking hole, and you let out a short, low purr followed by a sharp gasp when you felt the tip of your middle finger almost enter.

The pretty boy in front of you analyzed your face and body with hooded eyes clouded with hunger and eagerness to cum with you, wishing it was the tip of his dick teasing your entrance. A deep, animalistic growl escaped his throat as he began to thrust his hips into hand at a steady pace. “Shit.” He moaned when he started to flick his wrist as he continued to caress his length, stroking at faster pace.

“Ooh~ my finger slides in so easily.” You moaned breathlessly when you felt your smooth, greedy walls suck your digit into yourself. You slowly thrusted your coated finger in and out twice before pulling it out, watching a string of your arousal stretch from your core attached to your digit. The strand of your extract broke when brought your hand to your face, sucking the juices off but making sure your finger was still moist enough so you can slip it into your hungry opening again.

Hobie grunted eagerly as he watched you. His release was building up slowly, but he held it in. “So fucking good.” He groaned lowly feeling his pleasure intensify, the pace he stroked his girth never faltering.

You eased your index finger in after penetrating yourself with your middle for a while, your mouth falling agape at the delightful feeling of being stretched out slightly. Curving your slick digits upwards, another sharp gasp escaped your mouth as you felt the tip of them gently press again a spongy spot inside your dripping core. “Oh, yes, right fucking there.” You whined desperately at the new feeling, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you continued motioning your fingers upward.

At this point you and Hobie forgot about the phone that was recording your sinful actions and naughty sounds. You were both in a state of euphoria— the sensual noises coming from guy’s mouth, your arousal squelching and leaking nonstop with every thrust of your fingers, the sight you both had as you watched each other masturbate intensely with the same amount of eagerness. It was enough to bring you both closer to that release y’all were so desperate to receive.

Your hips bucked into your hand as the pace you thrusted your dripping fingers became faster and sloppier, your free hand gripping the covers on your bed tightly as you felt the small pressure in your stomach start to expand. “Fuck, Hobie, I’m gonna cum so hard for you. I’m so close, baby~, i’m so close.” You babbled mindlessly as you brought the hand that was gripping your sheets to you aching clit, rubbing it in steady circles to quicken the arrival of your powerful orgasm.

“M’ right behind you, love. Get that nut, baby. Fuck… I’m right there with you.” He encouraged you with a growl. The pet names, his seductive voice, and seeing the pace of his thrusting hips increase as he watched you bring yourself to the most mind shattering orgasm was all you needed to make the pressure in stomach pop as you made a delicious mess on the bed and floor below you.

Your eyes slowly rolled to the back of your head and jaw fell open as you came with a long, loud, moan. Your juices flew out of your pulsating entrance when you quickly removed your fingers from inside of you, rubbing your clit in circles rapidly making your squirting essence fly in any and every direction.

Hobie watched the voluptuous scene in front of him with a slightly gaped mouth, breathing heavily and rapidly as it brought him to his climax. His eyebrows furrowed in bliss, his stomach and testicles tightening as he milked himself with his hand. A loud groan exited his throat as he angled his girth towards his stomach and released, ropes of his seed painting his beautiful melanated torso. The hand he used to jerk himself off reduced its speed as he slowly came down from his high.

You both sat in your current positions regulating your breathing after the intense mutual masturbation session. When your breathing began to balance out, you heard a quiet whimper come from the attractive man in front of you. Your eyes made their way to him, seeing him slowly stroke his still erect girth with his head thrown back.

You threw your legs off your bed and got off of it, walking towards the tripod and stopping the recording. You sent the video to Hobie before making your way in front him, kneeling down and gently placing your hand on his thighs as you looked up at his pretty fucked out face. He felt your hands run up his thighs and to his hand to remove it from his length.

He looked down at the beautiful woman in front of him with a raised eyebrow, wondering what she planned on doing. All of his wonder went out the window when he watched her bring one of her hands to his thick, long member jerking him up and down once just to feel him throb. She then brought her head down a bit, slowly licking a wet line from his balls to the sensitive spot below his tip as she looked him in his eyes with hers feigning innocence.

“Fuck. Baby, don’t tease me like that.” He he groaned breathlessly at the sensation. She chuckled seductively at his words, kissing the head of his dick before spitting on it. She brought her hand back to his length to spread the moisture around him, feeling her lower region begin to ache for attention again when she heard him whine at the feeling of her warm fist starting to jerk him off at an agonizingly slow pace.

Hobie’s eyebrows creased in confusion when he felt her stop her movements, but his confused expression was immediately replaced with a slack jaw and his eyes rolling back when he felt her lips wrap around him gently. “Mmm~ so soft.” He moaned as she pushed her head lower onto him with her humming at the taste of him taking over her tastebuds.

“Oh- ooh, shit. What the fuck?” He moaned blissfully in bewilderment as she immediately slid his girth down her throat. She contracted the walls of her throat around his manhood as she started moving her head up and down.

The feeling of her warm lips and wet, tight throat wrapped around him has his eyes behind his head for the thousandth time tonight. One of his slender hands made their way to her soft, messy hair, gripping it gently as he held her head down and began to thrust his hips into her face. “Your throat feels so good, doll. Oh, my…” He trailed off with a needy whine.

He thrusted his hips faster, her eyes beginning to water as he slid further and further down her esophagus. She felt him gently throb in her mouth as she mentally thanked the man above for not having a gag reflex. She hummed around him once more to bring him closer to his second release.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes! Oh, f-fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum. I’m-” His babbling stopped abruptly due to his climax crashing down on him. He groaned breathlessly as he throbbed repeatedly and came down her throat, still holding her head down and keeping his hips still.

Once she felt his member slowly start to become flaccid, she pulled her head up and removed her lips from him with a pop. She looked up at him with innocent eyes as she swallowed every drop of cum he fed her, opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out to show him afterwards.

He smiled proudly at the sight, watching her come up from her position on the floor and straddle his laptop. He wrapped his arms around her waist and hers made their way around his neck and rested on the back of her chair. “I didn’t think you had that in you, love.” He spoke teasingly as he looked up at her with his bright, gorgeous smile.

She chuckled at his comments before responding. “You didn’t think I had a lot of things inside me. Now look at where we are.” You both laughed lightly at your statement, Hobie pushing you down towards him by your back and gently pressing his lips onto yours.

You instantly melted into the kiss as he gripped your thighs and stood up with your legs wrapped around his hips. He walked towards your bed and laid you down on it, him laying next to you as you guy’s lips separated. You faced each other, one of your hands making their way to the back his neck as you started to playing in his hair.

“So, about those sex toys you mentioned earlier…” You spoke with a playful grin.

“Oh, my days- no. Good night.” He responded with playful frustration, Shuffling his body closer to yours and stuffing his face into your neck and wrapping his arms around you. You laughed at his tone and words, holding him close to you as you rubbed his back gently.

Both of you enjoyed the fact that after engaging in such sinful activities, you can still joke around like nothing happened. You also really appreciated how he didn’t judge you and made sure that you knew his intentions and perspective of you were still pure… kind of. He really enjoyed what went down tonight, and he hoped that you guys could do it again sometime.

And you felt the same exact way.

I know the ending seems rushed I apologize guys 😭 I said this was gonna be posted Thursday night and I MEANT IT okay. But I hope you guys enjoyed!! My first smut on tumblr and more to come 💕

[dianawinchester03]

Season 3, Episode 1 - The Magnificent Seven

Series Masterlist

Author’s Note: ITS FINALLY FUCKING HERE (saying this as if I haven’t written their sex scene for months now LMFAOOOO) This chapter is LONGGG overdue and for that I apologize once again, thank you my beauties for being so patient and understanding❤️

So the song inspos for the first part of this chapter are One Of The Girls by The Weeknd, JENNIE and Lily-Rose Depp and Good For You by Selena Gomez.

I would 100% suggest listening to the remix version of the songs smashed together while reading for the full experience :) (if y’all know me, I don’t have to say that I’m obsessed with that song LOL)

Don’t be too harsh on me, I’m not versed in writing smut scenes yet so😭be gentle! (unlike dean to y/n hehe) In this scene, you’ll find out where Dean’s nickname ‘Charming’ comes from🙃

Also heads up, you’re probably gonna cuss at me a little for this chapter but it’ll be fineeee XD

WARNINGS: smutty smut smut, fingering, oral (female receiving), p-in-v intercourse, praise kink, dom!dean (minor sub!dean) ENJOY❤️

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Y/N’s POV

Lake Preston, South Dakota

Currently we’re all at one of my safehouses in South Dakota. Sam’s downstairs doing god knows what while me and Dean are upstairs…putting the wand in the chamber of secrets.

Third Person POV

Y/N and Dean were up in her room getting hot and heavy, tongues colliding, bodies bumping. Straddling him while in a passionate make out session, he pulls back, out of breath, his calloused hands resting gently on the sides of her face, “You sure about this princess?? You don’t gotta do anything just because-” His voice is gentle.

Y/N cut him off with a kiss. “Baby I’ve been waiting too long for this and now I know you have too. You asking consent however, is sooooo fucking hot” She said, out of breath, causing a smirk to widen on Dean’s features.

He leaned her back slowly on the bed, both hands bracing the small of her back as she lowered, her back finally hitting the cotton sheets. “Oh yeah?” He teased, kissing along her jaw and down her neck, running one of his hands inside her shirt, unclasping her bra with one hand from behind expertly. She’s stunned by the skill.

He pulled her shirt fluidly off, then her bra by each arm, tossing them both aside, taking his time to gawk at her exposed chest. “Goddammit Y/N” He groaned amazed, peppering kisses all over her chest, then taking a nipple into his mouth, playing with the other between his fingers. “Fuck..” She gasped, throwing her head back into the pillow, Dean’s mouth latched into her nipple.

“See something you like, Winchester?” She teased him. He growled in response. Taking that as a yes, she tugged at his shirt and peels it off of him to reveal his chiseled toned chest. Y/N sucked in some breath between her teeth when he reattached his lips to her sensitive nub, sucking like a starved man on her tits.

She felt a sense of deja vu wash over her.

“You’re so fucking beautiful” He groaned in pleasure, kissing down her body. “Deeann” She moaned his name and he snapped his gaze up at her, his eyes clouded with a mixture of lust and love. He felt that, ‘Deannn’ in the pit of his stomach, and son-of-a-bitch, did he love it. “Fuck you sound so hot moaning my name” He tugged at her jeans, pulling it down to reveal her lacy black panties.

She made sure to put on a pair after both showering separately at Bobby’s house just for this. As much as she would’ve liked Dean to join her, she refused with every bit of self-control she had, ensuring him she’d rather do it here and he respected that, of course.

Dean moaned at the sight and she smirked at his reaction. “Fuck, baby. You’re gonna kill me” He groaned, trailing his fingers along the slit of her clothed mound. “Oh shit” She moaned as he teased her.

He slid her panties to the side, revealing her glistening wet folds. “All this just for me?” He smirked at her, his voice husky and filled with lust. Teasing her clit a bit, a long breathy moan escaping her throat.

“Only for you, charming” She winked back with a moan as he slid her panties off. Positioning his head in-between her legs, he kissed her inner thigh, teasing her and she groaned impatiently. “Dammit Dean, don’t be a tease” She whined, thumping his head lightly, earning a chuckle from him in return.

“Patience Princess” He dove straight in, teasing her sensitive folds, circling around her entrance and now swirling around her clit. She let out a loud breathy moan.

Throwing her head back and grabbing onto the back of his head with her hand. “Oh god Dean!” She moaned his name loudly, arching her back off the bed, burying her fingers into his hair, pressing her pussy deeper into his mouth. “You taste so fucking good” He moaned into her pussy, turning her on even more.

Dean growled around her clit, sending shivers up her core like electricity in a socket, sucking gently as she moaned his name. His fingers trace the outline of her pussy lips, dipping inside of her. “Fuck, you're so tight” He whined, looking up at her, thrusting his fingers in and out of her at a steady pace.

She hissed lightly at the cold feeling of his ring brushing her lips. “Oh fuck oh fuck! Dean!” She cried out in pleasure as he hit her g spot with his fingers, already feeling to cum. “Scream my name, princess” he bellowed out, his voice gruff, almost animalistic. Usually she’s not an easy woman to please but somehow it’s like Dean already knew her body.

“Don’t stop please don’t stop I’m gonna cum” Y/N pleaded, begging for release. Dean whined as he felt her tighten around his fingers, milking his hand. He continued to pleasure her, pushing her further and further over the edge until she’s screaming out his name in ecstasy. “Fuck yeah. That's it. Soak my fingers” He ordered her with a growl.

With that, she heeded to his command. “DEAN!!!!” She bellowed into the empty room, drenching his finger with her juices as he continued to tease her clit. “That’s a good girl” He praised her softly. He slowly retracted his fingers out of y/n’s pussy, slick with her juices. Inching it closer to his mouth, wrapping his lips around his fingers, swirling his tongue like a starved beast.

Sucking off all of her from it. His eyes fluttered shut as he did this. She’s dazzled by the sight of him enjoying the taste of her on his tongue she couldn’t help but say “I need you please” She begged him to fuck her, needing the feeling of his cock filling her up.

Dean's eyes flashed with lust as he crawled up her body, his hot breath tickling her neck as he whispered mockingly. “You want my cock, baby?” His dirty mouth just turned her on more, he seemed to notice the way his dirty talk added fuel to her pleasure and he basked in it.

Y/N had a fair idea Dean would be vocal in bed but THIS. This was just perfect. She nodded slowly, biting her lip as she looked up into his lust filled eyes, “Please…” Y/N pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper, not caring how desperate and slutty she sounded. Her voice was needy and whiny. The tone added to Dean’s desire.

Dean smirked, his eyes full of desire. He threw his legs off the side of the bed, y/n followed, sitting at the edge reaching for his belt, undoing it and sliding his pants off. Her eyes never left his as she did this, a playful smile playing on her lips while Dean’s were parted.

He helped her pull down his boxers, fully taking them off before tossing them aside. Revealing his hard cock, bobbing eagerly. Y/N licked her lips, desperate to know how he felt inside of her, he wanted to know too but she wanted to taste him.

As fucking weird as it sounds, his cock was so damn pretty.

The smile on her lips told him exactly that as Y/N playfully kissed right below his stomach, before licking his trail, earning a desperate whine from Dean. The sound from him practically had her soaking the sheets.

“As much as I would love to feel your mouth on me…” He groaned as he leaned towards her, she moved back, lowering herself onto the back again.

Dean then positioned himself between her legs, teasing Y/N’s entrance. “…I wanna feel you so fucking bad” Staring into his eyes. Her lip tucked between her teeth, “Fuck me” Y/N’s never been so vulnerable with anyone before, so needy, so comfortable. Sure she’s had sex many…many times, but never with this level of tension. Little did she know, Dean was in the same boat.

He shook his head. “No sweetheart, I’m gonna make love to you” Dean whispered into her ear, chuckling darkly as he lined up his cock to the entrance of her pussy.

He thrusted in, claiming y/n as his own, earning a loud gasp from her as her eyes rolled to the back, tilting as he slowly inched inside of her. “Sooo much better than I imagined” He gasped as he entered her, throwing his head back slowly. “Oh god yes!” Y/N’s back arched off the bed as he fills her up slowly. Dean's hips roll smoothly against hers like water, his cock filling her completely.

“That's it, baby. Take it all.” The second he filled her up, allowing her to adjust to his size. Y/N knew it wasn’t anything like what she’s had many times before. With Dean it was so passionate, so raw, so fulfilling, so….real. He groaned, the sound vibrating through her body. “God Y/N. You feel so good” Dean winced in her ear as he kissed her neck sloppily, nibbling on her collarbone.

“Fuck Deaaannnn” Y/N gasped, as she cried out in ecstasy, her mouth agape. “Shit! You’re so fucking big oh my god!” His muscles tense up when she moaned his name, grunting in sheer pleasure. She could feel herself clenching around his big hard cock, grazing over her g spot.

“Faster, please” she whined, Dean immediately picked up the pace, fucking her hard and fast. His hips slam into hers, driving his cock deeper into her pussy. “You're so wet, baby. I can feel how much you love my cock.” He moaned shamelessly.

“Don’t get cocky now, Winchester” she growled at him, gripping onto his bicep, her nails digging into his arm. Y/N’s tits bounced out of control with each thrust. “You mean like the one you’re taking right now, L/N?” He countered, smirking, rolling his hips into hers.

Even having sex these two are flirting relentlessly. Her heart skipped a beat at this, but she’s too turnt on and filled with desire to answer. Dean pumped his hips faster, hitting that spot inside her directly, over and over. She gasped loudly when he did this, practically made of jello under him.

“Oh my god, Dean! Don’t stop pleas- Oh fuck, Deaaannn!” She screamed his name shamelessly, eyes screwed shut from pleasure. “Found it” He growled, the sound sending shivers down her spine. Proud of himself for finding her g spot so quickly. “Oh shit OH SHIT RIGHT THERE!” She gasped, lips parted.

The sounds of their skins slapping against each other in a wave combination of passion, love and lust. Butterflies rising in Y/N’s stomach, her pussy clenched around his cock as his deep moans fill the room along with her moans of pure ecstasy.

“You like that, don't you? You like how hard and deep I fuck you?” A gasp escaped her throat at his wicked tongue. “Yes yes YES!!!” She screamed, not caring who heard her. To hell with who hears, Dean wanted the world to know that Y/N was now his and his alone.

“Deannnnn!!!” She whined needily, a pornstar worthy moan leaving her throat. Dean growls, unable to contain the sound. His body shudders as he feels himself getting closer. “Fuck, Y/N. You're so goddamn sexy. I'm gonna make you scream for more.”

Dean slid cock out of her dripping cunt before yanking her by her feet to pull her back to the edge of the bed, flipping her over her stomach before gripping her hips and pulling her onto all fours, He spanked her ass cheek, leaving a red handprint. The yelp that escaped her was embarrassing but so soooo hot from the way it made her soak.

The dominance radiating off of him, usually y/n’s dominant in bed. But right now, she’s loving the way he’s taking control. He lined his cock up with her pussy again, teasing her entrance then thrusting in, slowly. “Shitttttt” Her back arched as he slowly fucked her from behind. Dean groaned, his cock sliding in and out of her glistening cunt.

Currently it’s taking all in his power not to cum already but he’s loving pleasuring his girl. His hands grip onto her hips, holding her in place as he fucks her harder from behind. The sight of her tattoo on her lower back was adding more fuel in his engine.

“God you feel so fucking amazing princess” He whined, throwing his head back, gripping her hips as he moans, his eyes closed while he guides his cock in and out of her wet pussy.

“Mhhhmmm just like that. Fuck me just like that, just like that baby. You’re doing such a good job” She urged him on, praising him. This encouraged Dean to pick up the pace, his cock slamming against her cervix with each thrust. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her up. Y/N’s back now against his chest. His teeth grazed her earlobe as he growled. “You like that? You want more?”

“Yes! Please!” She begged shamelessly. “Fuck yeah, make a mess all over this cock” He grunted as he slams his hips against her ass, his cock filling her up to the brim. Dean gives her perky ass hard slap before pulling out of her.

He flipped her over onto her back, his cock still hard and glistening with y/n’s juices. “Now, who's in control here, huh?” His tone is filled with authority and dominance. She stared back at him smirking, not answering.

Dean grinned wickedly as he lined his cock up with her pussy again. “If you want this cock, you gotta use your words, princess” He whispered menacingly in her ear, nibbling on the lobe. She whined at his teasing.

“You’re really gonna make me say it? Come on charming, don’t be a teaseee” She whined, making him chuckle deeply. He slowly sunk back inside of her, taking his time to savor the feeling. “I think we both know who's in charge here.”

“You sure about that?” She quipped, egging him on. Knowing that the more she teased him, the better he’s gonna fuck her. Dean growled, his hips slamming into Y/N hard. He snatched her legs and spread them wider, taking more of her pussy each time he thrusts.

She gasped loudly, moaning relentlessly as he ravaged her. “You better believe it, sweetheart.” He growled. Dean slams into Y/N harder, his body covered in sweat. He gripped her hips and yanked them towards him, giving her an extra deep thrust.

“That's it, such a good girl.”

“Deann baby”

“Say it again”

“Deaaaannnnn!”

“Oh fuck, Y/N!”

“Yess. Fuck me just like that! Just like that, oh god!!” She screamed out in pleasure as he claimed her as his own. Dean groaned, his body trembling with pleasure. “This pussy is amazing. You're amazing. I love you so much” He moans into her ear lovingly.

He continued to ramble as the pleasure filled his body. “I love you so much more” Y/N moaned. Dean's eyes roll back in his head, lost in the sensation of her wet tight pussy squeezing him. He grunted and moaned, his hips slamming into her mercilessly. She said his name over and over like a prayer.

“Oh god yes!” She grabbed one of her tits, squeezing the nipple and playing with it. She reached down to play with her sensitive clit. Dean growled, his cock throbbing inside her. He snatched Y/N’s hand from her clit, pinning them above her head, his free hand gripping onto her throbbing clit. “Move your hand baby. You're mine.”

“I’m all yours please, please let me cum” She begs him for release. Dean's eyes flash with dominance, his hand firmly holding onto her clit. He doesn't let up, thrusting into her with more force. “You’re so pretty when you’re begging” He growled menacingly. “Patience. Watch me make love to you. Watch how good it feels.” He teased her.

“Oh fuckkkkkk!!!” Y/N screamed out so loud shes sure everyone heard “Soooo fucking good. Pussy so wet and tight just for me. You’re all mine, princess” Dean's thrusts become even more powerful, his hips slamming into hers. “And you’re mine” Y/N growls back possessively.

His hand detached from her clit, reaching up to pinch and roll her nipple, eliciting a moan from y/n. “That's it, baby. Take it all.” He praised her. She took all his cock filling her up, reaching closer and closer to her orgasm. He gripped her hips tightly, pulling her onto him with every thrust.

Suddenly his pace faltered, slowing down. “Wh-what are you doing?” Y/N stutters a bit.

“I can feel you getting wetter. You want it so bad, don't you?” He whispered in her ear menacingly, edging her along. She could feel his cocky smirk against her neck. “Goddammit Dean! If you don’t let me cum I’ll-” Y/N yelled in a rage of ecstasy, needing to cum but he cut her off. “You’ll what?” He smirked, calling her out on the empty promise as he thrusted into her slowly.

“Dean!!” Y/N yelled at him and he let out a deep chuckle, driving his cock deeper into her, feeling the tight warmth of her pussy squeezing him. This continued for at least five minutes, he grazes oh-so-gently on her g spot each time.

She’d whine, indicating that she’s close. Part of her is enjoying the edging because of how it’s prolonging the love making between two of them but the other part just wants to empty herself all over Dean, show him how good he’s making her feel.

In a snap, his pace resumed to how it was previously and he began to thrust with increasing force the way he was prior. Y/N’s lips are parted, her eyes screwed shut from the pleasure that’s coursing through her body.

“DEAN!” Is all she could muster up, the coil in her stomach is ready to snap. His orgasm approaching closer. “Now be a good girl for me and look at me while cum all over that cock” He whispered into her ear lustfully, pushing her over the edge. Her eyes locked with his, her orgasm hitting her like a train.

“Oh fuck oh fuck OH FUCK DEAAANNNNN!!!” She came all over his cock, her orgasm taking her over in a white hot flash as he hit her g spot repeatedly.

Dean’s eyes widened in shock when Y/N’s eyes flashed white in the way it does when she used her powers as she rode out her high. Oddly enough, it got him going even more. He continued to pound into Y/N, moaning as he felt her tight muscles squeezing him in orgasm.

“Oh fuckkkkk baby. That’s it.” He moaned into her ear, beginning to tip over the edge. He picked up the pace, his cock throbbing inside her as he approached his release. A wicked thought crosses y/n’s mind and she decides to get some payback.

“You wanna cum don’t you? You wanna fill up my tight pussy, Dean?” She teased him in a sultry voice, tightening her legs around him. His gaze snapped to her in one of shock and lust, she just smirked at him and continued saying,

“Cum for me, charming. And then, you can bend me over in the bathroom and drill your cock into my tight aching pussy, let me watch you ravage me in the mirror, make me take it like a good girl. Then we can fuck in the backseat of the Impala, watch my ass bounce when I ride you.” She nibbled on his ear, letting out a seductive giggle.

Before adding in a low sexy tone, “Maybe then I can show you how good my mouth is gonna feel around your big hard cock…” She trailed off from whispering dirty sweet nothings when his cock began to throb inside of her.

“Oh FUCK Y/N!!!” He screamed out in ecstasy, spilling his seed into her pussy, his thrusts growing sloppy and slower. “Fuck! I thought I talked a good game. You got a wicked tongue, princess” He gasped, chuckling heavily as she smirks proudly. “You wanna feel it baby?” Y/N retorted with a wink and a coy smile.

He laughed at her perverse comment, feeling so blessed to know his girl is just as nasty as him. “I love you so goddamn much” He whispered, kissing her lovingly on her lips. Y/N returned the kiss passionately,

“I love you so much more” She whispered back against his lips. “I can win that fight” He smiled slyly at her as he pulled away. She lightly glared at him due to his untimely comment. “Too soon?” He snorted and she nodded as if it’s obvious. “Shut up and get me a towel, Winchester” She chuckled weakly and he laughed along obligingly, giving her a kiss on her cheek before getting the towel.

He wiped her off with the warm towel first, making sure to get all of the mess they both made and then proceeded to wipe himself off. Y/N grabbed the blanket from the end of the messed up bed, throwing it over the both of them as he sunk back into the bed next to her.

He wrapped his arm around her and she settled her head on his chest. The two hunters were practically mush on each other. The both of them remain in a comfortable silence, catching their breaths for a few moments as Dean rubbed his fingers up and down the curves of Y/N’s body, settling his hand in her hair, rubbing it gently with the tip of his fingers.

After about 5 minutes or so, Dean finally speaks up. “So..” He began, kissing her forehead. “So…” Y/N added breathlessly, smiling and looking up into his eyes, her head laid on his chest. “God you’re so beautiful” He whispered to himself, the love potent in his voice.

He then tucked a strand of her messed up hair behind her ear as the two lovers stared at each other lovingly. She tried to hide her blush but he noticed. “Even your blushing makes me hard” He groaned, earning a giggle from her. “Damn, you’re whipped” Y/N teased him, kissing his chest. “Shut up” Dean huffed, his freckle nose tainted a tinge of pink.

Going back to his lovestruck awe, y/n’s expression mirroring his. “You’re so adorable” He cooed lovingly, stroking her cheek with his thumb. His pupils dilated at the sight of y/n, her hair messy, her mascara dripping. “I’m gonna say something and you better not make fun of me” Y/N warned him and he smirks. “No promises babe” He joked and she laughed.

“You wanna know why I’ve always called you charming?” She asked him. “Why’s that?” He asked softly, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. “I think it’s because deep down, I always wished you’d be my Prince Charming” She admitted in a gentle tone and she could’ve sworn Dean looked like he was gonna burst into tears.

“Damn you’re whipped” He retorted jokingly, mocking her with her words from before, laying a kiss on her cheek. She giggled, sighing softly as she looked up into his eyes through her eyelashes.

She noticed the soft content look on his face as he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I'm gonna save you, Dean, even if it’s the last thing I do. I promise.” Her voice cracked as tears prick at her eyes, her heart still aching. His face softened even more, a guilty pang at his heart.

“We don’t need to discuss that right now, baby. Let’s just live in the moment. Okay?” He whispered in a gentle tone, holding her tightly. She nodded sniffling a bit. “You know, I’m pretty sure Sam heard us” Y/N snorted, trying to lighten the mood. Dean chuckled, “Oh definitely, we’re not gonna hear the end of it.”

“The way I fucked you into oblivion. I’m sure all of South Dakota heard it” He added in a teasing tone, nuzzling his nose into her hair. A blush raised to Y/N’s face, her cheeks practically beet red. She turnt away, trying to cover her face but he grabbed her quickly by her wrists, turning her back around as he tried to move her hand away from her face while chuckling.

“Awwww don’t hide your face now, princess. Not when you just were all like ‘Just like that Dean just like that. Ohhhh godddd’ ” He threw his head back laughing as he jokingly mocked her moans just a couple minutes ago.

Another smack to his chest from his girl caused him to cackle even more. Come to think of it, the way Y/N smacked Dean’s ass around even before they even got together, he’s pretty sure her love language consists of physical violence in a loving way.

“Hey!” She exclaimed in mock offense. “I wasn’t the one that was like ‘Fuck you’re so tight baby’ “ She chuckled, mocking his groans earlier as he blushed. “Did you know your eyes flash white when you orgasm?”

Her mouth fell open at his comment, earning a snort of amusement from her lover. “They what?!” She exclaimed. "No, I didn't know that," Y/N muttered, embarrassed, turning away again. Dean laughed and pulled her back to look at him. "Heyyy, I'm not making fun. It's cute and honestly, really fucking sexy." He assured her, laying a kiss on her forehead.

“Did no one from before me tell you that?” He asked curiously. “No one ever mentioned it before," She said, leaning her head on his chest. "Then again, I usually close my eyes or bury my head in a pillow,” She explained.

“So I’m the only one who’s seen it” Dean observed, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Oh god, don’t get cocky again” Y/N playfully groaned. Dean feigned a dramatic gasp, earning an eye roll as he pressed his hand to his chest. "Me? Cocky? Never. I'm just stating the facts." He smirked, tracing his fingers up her spine.

“Well, you’re the first and last to see it. I’m just starting facts” Y/N retorted with a smirk, brushing her lips with his. “First and last, huh?” He chuckled, kissing her again. “Sounds like I’m pretty damn special, then.” He joked, making her roll her eyes again.

She pushed him back against the pillows, straddling his hips lazily. "Yeah, well, don’t get too cocky or I might change my mind” She said, leaning down to kiss his neck. A low growl rumbled from the back of his throat as she kissed his neck, his hands moving up to grip her thighs. "You wouldn't" he protested, fingers trailing up her sides.

She hummed against his skin, nipping gently at his collarbone. "You sure about that?" She teased, biting down a little harder, leaving a bruise in her wake. “Keep it up, I’ll make you scream again” He grunted, his grip on her thighs tightening. “Oh yeah? I’m pretty sure it’s my turn” Y/N retorted with sass.

His eyebrows quirk up, “You’re on sweetheart” He challenges, smirking at her. She takes him up on his challenge, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She returned the smirk, moving her mouth to his chest, leaving a trail of kisses down to his stomach. "We'll see about that" she murmured, running her tongue along his hip bones.

He threw his head back, moaning softly as she toyed with him, desperate whines leaving his throat. Round two was locked and loaded.

____________________________________________

•One Week Later

Sam was downstairs, his head buried in a book. Trying to find some way to get Dean out of the deal. Jo had resumed hunting with Ellen, the mother-daughter duo were finally on the same page since the Roadhouse burnt down. He had his headphones jacked in his ears in hopes it would drown out Dean and Y/N’s rather loud activities.

Sam missed Jo like crazy, his heart was screaming at him to call her, but his mind was telling him to let her go. After witnessing Y/N’s demise and now his brother’s inevitable demise, in his mind, he could bring nothing but harm to her. He was forcing himself to stay away from her and it tore into him from inside out.

The ringing over his phone cut his music, so he clicked the answer button, pressing it to his ear. “Hello?” Sam answered, “Hey Sam” Bobby’s voice came through the speaker. “Hey, Bobby,” Sam responded. “Whatcha’ you doing?” The older hunter asked. “You know, same old, same old” Sam sighed.

“You buried in that book again?” Bobby said in a knowing tone, causing Sam to gulp. “Sam, if you wanna break Dean free of that demon deal, you ain’t gonna find the answer is no book” Bobby chided him. “Then where, Bobby?” Sam grumbled. “Kid, I wish I knew,” the older man sighed. “So where’s your brother and Y/N?”

Sam internally groaned, hearing what sounded like a lamp get knocked over upstairs and Y/N’s giggle echo through the floorboards. His face scrunched up in disgust, “Pulling the electorate” Sam deadpanned, gagging. “What?” Bobby asked, confused. “Nevermind” Sam shook it off. “Well, you kids better pack it up. I think I finally found something”

Soon after his phone call with Bobby, Sam pushed himself up from the couch, tossing the book onto the coffee table but was stopped in his tracks when his phone rang again.

Glancing down at the screen, his heart skipped a beat when he saw Jo’s name flash on the screen. His heart thumped wildly in his chest with every second he debated what to do. He wanted so badly to answer, to hear her voice again. To talk to her.

But logic put him against it, she didn’t deserve the bad luck that radiated off of him. Sam refused to put her through that. She may have been his angel, but he was the boy with demon blood.

Reluctantly, Sam let the call ring into voicemail. As much as it pained him to do so, he needed to push her away. For her own safety. Even if it was killing him inside.

-

Sam waited until he assumed Dean and Y/N were done before knocking on the door. Rock music filled the room as the newly-coupled did the dirty, not seeing or hearing Sam enter. “Dean? Y/N? You guys conscious?” Sam asked, pushing the door open before peeking his head in.

“Bobby called, he thinks that maybe we co- Oh God!” Sam groaned in disgust, quickly shutting the door upon seeing a very naked Y/N on top of Dean. Quickly running his fingers over his eyes, trying to burn the image out of his mind, now he really wishes he had taken Jo’s call.

-

The Impala sped down the road, Dean wore a big smile on his face, Y/N was sprawled out in the back seat while Sam looked like he was ready to vomit. “Let me see your knife” He deadpanned to Y/N. “What for?” She mumbled confused as she began to take it out of her boot. “So i can gouge my eyes out” He quipped back, causing her to quickly retract her knife from him. Sam shot his brother and best friend a look of disgust as they snorted with amusement.

“It's a beautiful natural act of love, Sam” Dean shot back, flashing a wink at Y/N through the rearview mirror. She blew him a saucy kiss before saying, “Yeah, get with the program brother” Y/N patted his head before sinking back into the backseat. “That's part of you I never wanted to see, Dean and Y/N” Sam grimaced, the two chuckled as they shook their heads.

“Hey, I appreciate you giving us a little bit of quality time, man” Dean said to him, his mind still racing about his night with Y/N. The psychic bit her lip as she reminisced, the night seemingly having flashed past their eyes. She tried to ignore the nagging at the back of her mind about Dean's pending departure to hell but it wouldn't seem to let up. “Yeah, no problem,” Sam mumbled.

“Really. I gotta say, I was expecting a weary sigh or an eyeroll or something” Dean poked fun at his brother who just shrugged in return. “Same,” Y/N added. “Nonono, you guys deserve to have a little fun. At least now I don't have to witness your god awful pining for each other” Rolling his eyes, Dean huffed, “Oh, you can kiss my a-”

“Uh-uh, not another word, you don’t know what I went through for years of you guys being idiots” Sam interrupted, raising his hand to signal he did not want to hear whatever Dean had to protest with, causing Y/N to laugh in the backseat.

“Oh, come on. We weren’t that bad” Y/N argued. “Yes. Yes, you were” Sam deadpanned, “You guys were both so damn oblivious” They rolled their eyes in unison, “Takes one to know one, dipshit” Y/N mumbled, poking her tongue out at him before crossing her arms over her chest and sinking back into her seat.

Sam rolled his eyes at the comment, “Real mature, crackhead, real mature” He shot back sarcastically but there was no heat behind his words. He was happy that they both got their heads out of their arses and finally admitted their feelings, he was just hoping that they had enough time now.

“What’s Bobby got?” Dean asked, changing the subject. “Not much, crop failure and a cicada swarm outside of Lincoln, Nebraska. Now it could be demon omens-” Sam answered with a deep sigh. “-or it could just be a bad crop and a bug problem.” Y/N suggested. “But it's our only lead,” Sam countered. “Any freaky deaths?” Dean asked. “Nothing Bobby could find. Not yet, anyway.”

“It's weird, fellas. I mean, the night the Devil's Gate opened, all these weirdo storm clouds were sighted over how many cities?” Y/N asked, pushing herself forward to the back of the driver's side seat. “Seventeen” Sam and Dean responded in unison. “You'd think it'd be Apocalypse Now. It's been five days and bupkis” Dean scoffed with annoyance causing Sam and Y/N to frown, “What are the demons waiting for?” Y/N grumbled, pressing her chin on the leather seat.

“Beats me,” Sam sighed, “It's driving me crazy. “I'll tell you. If it's gonna be war, I wish it'd start already” Dean agreed. “I don't know, babe. Careful what you wish for” Y/N sighed, reaching over to gently rub his shoulder. The two lovers shared a look in the rearview mirror as Dean continued down the desolate road, headed over to Bobby’s house to pick up Quinn.

Just Outside Lincoln, Nebraska

The roar of the Impala and Harley filled the empty field. The only sounds in the early morning were the cicadas humming through their ears as Dean put Baby in park and Y/N peeled off her helmet after shutting off Quinns engine. Bobby was already at the field waiting for them, leaning against his truck. “You hear those cicadas?” Sam asked them as he and Dean stepped out of the Impala. “Well, that can't be a good sign” Dean answered with a mouth full of bacon cheeseburger as they all walked towards Bobby.

“No shit, Sherlock” Y/N grumbled, earning a playful glare from her boyfriend, in which she grinned in response. “So we're eating bacon cheeseburgers for breakfast, are we?” Bobby mused, leaning off of his truck. “Well, sold my soul. Got a year to live. I ain't sweating the cholesterol.” Dean shot back, causing Y/N to get that gaping feeling in her chest again and Sam to roll his eyes at his brothers lack of hope.

“So, Bobby, what do you think? We got a biblical plague here or what?” Sam asked, changing the subject, after noticing Y/N’s shift in facial expression. While Dean continued to munch away on his burger, he offered Y/N a bite but she simply shook her head so he just shrugged and continued eating.

“Well, let's find out. Looks like the swarms ground zero.” Bobby responded.

-

Y/N knocked her knuckles against the hardwood of the door to the house in the field, “Candygram!” The psychic shouted. Silence and no one in sight. A confused look overcame the group. No one came to the door. “Well, I guess nobody’s home” Dean muttered as he chewed on his last bite of burger.

Y/N shrugged and pressed her palm to the door, she took a deep breath, focusing her energy on the door as her veins began shining blue. Her eyes flashed a brighter white than usual as she used her powers to sense and listen for anything or anyone inside the house. It was eerily quiet. No souls, nothing. Just silence. Her eyebrows furrowed as she was met with no sign of life.

So instead, she sent a blast through the door, causing it to come clean off its hinges. The four hunters cautiously entered the house, peering into each room only to find them empty. “Where are they?” Y/N mumbled, trying to see if she could sense the family anywhere. “I don't know but it stinks like hell in here” Sam cringed, pressing his nose at the horrid stench lingering around the air.

“That’s definitely not a good sign” Dean grumbled in disgust as they quickly pulled out their guns, all gagging from the rancid scent of decay. Guns drawn, they cautiously crept through the house while trying their best to cover their faces from the overwhelming stench, the source of which seemed to be coming from the living room.

Y/N’s face twisted into a grimace as they entered the living room. They could faintly hear cicadas buzzing from the outside but that’s not what caught their attention. A putrid and foul aroma filled the air, stronger than the previous room as they came across three decomposing bodies. One man, one woman and one young boy.

Flies buzzed around the bodies, their faces sunken in. Bobby gasped with disgust as he rushed into the room. “Bobby, what the hell happened here?” Sam asked. “I dont know” Bobby grumbled as they began investigating. The sound of the deck creaking made Dean and Y/N’s ears perk up. Dean whistled lowly, causing everyone to go on guard immediately. Their eyes darted over to the deck as Y/N gestured she and Dean would go check it out while Bobby and Sam stayed on lookout.

They crept on the deck, armed to the T. Both peered around the corner cautiously, the sound of cicadas buzzing growing louder. They threw a suspicious eye out the door before stepping out. Their steps were light as they crept around, looking for any signs of danger and then a twig snapped. Both their heads snapped to the side an African-American man and woman attacked them.

The man grabbed Y/N, causing her to yell out. She quickly recovered, attempting to fight him off by elbowing him hard in his mid section as the woman kneed Dean where the sun didn't shine. Dean's hands flew to cup his manhood in pain, doubling over as his gun clattered to the ground.

While Y/N was backhanded by the man and was sent tumbling to the ground next to Dean. "SON OF A FUCKING BITCH!" "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST" Dean and Y/N exclaimed in excruciating pain, the psychic clutching her bleeding nose as Dean clutched his pearls.

“Isaac? Tamara?” Bobby said in recognition as he and Sam rushed out onto the porch from the sound of Dean and Y/N getting their asses pummeled. Isaac froze when hearing his name as he and his partner looked up in shock at the two new arrivals. Y/N groaned in pain as she sat up on her elbows, while Dean was still doubled over.

“Bobby? What the hell are you doing here?” Tamara gasped, a twinge of an English accent flowing from her words. “I could ask the same,” Bobby chuckled. “Hey, Bobby” Isaac chuckled, uncocking his gun to throw it back over his shoulder as he shook Bobby’s hand. “Uh, hello, bleeding here” Y/N quipped sarcastically, waving her hand in the air.

Dean grunted as he finally began regaining his composure, still clutching his balls. “Could you help a brother out?” he whined to Sam who chuckled at his very obvious pain. “Oh, shut it, jackass” Y/N mumbled as she wiped the blood from her nose.

-

Later that evening, they all ended up at Isaac and Tamara’s house. Dean was on the phone with the coroner, an ice pack resting nicely on his manhood while he sat on the couch as Y/N, Sam and Bobby were in the living room with Isaac and Tamara.

“Honey, where’s the Palo Santo?” Isaac asked his wife, “Well, where’d you leave it?” Tamara responded. “I don’t know dear, that’s why I’m asking” Isaac shot back in a slightly annoyed but gentle tone. “Palo Santo?” Sam asked curiously. “It’s holy wood. From Peru. It’s toxic to demons, like holy water” Tamara explained as she walked over to her husband.

“Keeps the bastards nailed down when you’re exorcising them” She further explained as she pulled out the Palo Santo, handing it to her husband. “Thank you, dear” Isaac smiled sheepishly at her. “You’d lose your head if it wasn’t for me” Tamara shot back jokingly at her husband while he smirked.

Y/N snickered from her spot on the couch as she watched the interaction between Isaac and Tamara, glancing over at Dean to notice his pained facial expression and the ice pack. “So long have you two been married?” Y/N asked curiously.

“Eight years this past June” Tamara replied, sharing a loving glance with her husband who smiled sweetly back at her. This didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N who had a glimmer of something deep in her eyes as she looked over at the couple and Sam had a thoughtful look on his face, both chuckling. Isaac pressed a kiss to Tamara’s forehead.

“The family that slays together-“ Isaac began. “-Stays together” Tamara finished it with a loving smile towards her husband. “Right, I’m with you there” Sam agreed, before asking, “So, how’s you get started?” The room fell silent by his question, Tamara’s loving gaze dropped to a saddened one.

Sam instantly felt bad by asking, “I’m sorry, he’s sorry. It’s not- it’s none of our business” Y/N apologized on Sam’s behalf as Bobby shook his head at them. Tamara held up her hand, gesturing it was fine. “No, it’s okay. It’s okay” she sighed and gave a soft nod.

Dean finally pushed himself up from the couch, still on the phone with the coroner’s tech as he wobbled over, the ice pack still pressed to his nards. “Well, Jenny, while I appreciate the offer for the appletini, I’m a taken man. Have a goodnight” He grimaced at the sound of the woman flirting with him and the pain in his manhood as he flipped the phone shut.

“What, no number?” Y/N teased him as he flopped back down next to her, earning a grumble from him. “You’re just jealous” he shot back at her, causing her eyes to narrow. “Ha, yeah, keep telling yourself that, darlin’” she smirked in response.

“Oh believe me, I will” he retorted, a smirk on his face. Tamara and Isaac exchanged an amused look at the bickering couple as Sam chuckled in response while Bobby simply rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Okay, you two, knock it off” Bobby grumbled from his seat in the armchair, causing both to immediately shut their mouths. “What’d the tech say?”

“Get this. That whole family, cause of death: Dehydration and starvation.” Dean revealed, causing everyone’s eyes to widen. “There’s no signs of restraint. No violence. They just sat down and never got up” Dean explained, “But there was a fully stocked kitchen just yards away” Bobby pointed out, the situation sounding way too unusual.

“Right, what is this? A demon attack?” Y/N added, equally stunned as she reached into the cooler to get another ice pack for Dean. Dean winced as Y/N pried his hand away and gently placed the ice pack onto his jewels, “Thanks” he muttered sarcastically as he began shifting in his seat and adjusting his position.

“If it is, it’s not like anything I ever say and I’ve seen plenty” Bobby stated, “Well, what now? What should we do?” Dean asked through gritted teeth. Despite the pain, Y/N’s hand began rubbing small circles onto his thigh in a subtle gesture of comfort as he continued to adjust in his seat.

“Uh, we’re not gonna do anything?” Isaac chimed in. Their heads snapped in their direction, “What do you mean?” Sam and Y/N asked in unison. “You guys seem nice enough but, this ain’t Scooby-Doo and we don’t play well with others” He responded bluntly.

“Excuse me?” Y/N asked, dumbfounded, “Well I think we’d cover a lot more ground if we worked together” Sam narrowed his eyes at them, “No offense, but we’re not teaming up with the damned fools who let the Devil's Gate get opened in the first place” Isaac shot back with frustration.

“No offense?” Dean scoffed as he began sitting up, his face becoming hard and cold. Y/N gave him a hard look to calm him down, gripping his thigh to stop him from escalating the situation as Tamara quickly intervened before anything got out of hand.

“Isaac, like you’ve never made a mistake” Tamara reprimanded her husband. “Oh, yeah. Locked my keys in the car. Turned my laundry pink. Never brought on the end of the world though” Isaac sassed, rolling his eyes as Dean and Y/N chuckled dryly and Tamara’s head dropped.

Bobby’s hand slowly went to the bridge of his nose in annoyance as Sam shot his brother a warning look to keep his mouth shut, “Alright, that’s enough” Y/N growled at him, a tight glare in her eyes as her hand gripped Dean’s thigh a little tighter, forcing him to stay seated.

“Guys, this isn’t helping, Y/N/N” Sam said calmly to her. Y/N closed her eyes and exhaled before looking at Sam, “Whatever” she muttered, taking a deep breath and slowly loosening her grip on Dean’s thigh while he continued to grumble under his breath.

“Look, there are a couple hundred more demons out there now. We don’t know where they are. When they’ll strike. There ain’t enough hunters in the world to handle something like this. You brought war down on us. On all of us” Isaac stated firmly as Bobby’s head dropped in shame, Y/N clenched her jaw along with Dean and Sam eyes softened with guilt.

“Okay, that’s quite enough testosterone for now” Tamara snapped, yanking Isaac by his hand and dragging him out of the room. The room fell silent after Isaac and Tamara disappeared into the kitchen. Y/N’s shoulders slacked as if all the fight had gone out of her in an instant and her hand slid from Dean’s thigh as he sat up on the cushion, crossing his legs carefully to reduce the pain on his balls.

-

It was now later that night, Y/N laid her head gently on Dean's chest as he wrapped his arms around to hold her close as the sounds of the TV playing a western movie softly echoed in the background of their motel room. His chin rested on her head as his eyes were fixated on the screen and Y/N's hand was idly tracing patterns across his chest, the sounds of his breath rising and falling calming her.

“How’re you feeling, sweetie?” She asked him gently, gesturing to his manhood. He sighed, "Still aching, honestly" he grumbled, "But I'll manage, he’s getting better" he mumbled. “Anything I can do to help?” Dean chuckled at her question and shook his head, "I’ll live" he replied.

"Just hope you still find me hot after this" he teased her, earning a gentle smack in the chest from her. "Ow, Jesus. Watch it, woman" he playfully muttered as she chuckled. "I always find you hot, you idiot" she retorted, shifting to bury her face in his chest as his shoulders began shaking with silent laughter.

"You always say the right things," he chuckled, rubbing her back as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "But you know what might make me feel better?" he mused with a smirk appearing on his lips. She lifted her head up to look at him with a smirk of her own and raised an eyebrow curiously, "Oh yeah? And what's that, Mr. Winchester?"

He smirked in response and grabbed her hip with his free hand before pressing his lips to hers. Her lips responded to his as she reciprocated the kiss. His hand on her hip moved to grasp her butt and he lightly moved her to straddle him which caused her to release a small yelp in surprise against his lips before she moved her own hand up to cup his cheek, pulling away to look at him with lust-blown eyes.

"You sure, your little guy can take it?" she asked him, a sly smirk still on her lips. A sly smirk appeared on his face as he moved his hands from her rear to cup her hips, bringing her flush against himself, "Trust me, I'm sure he can handle it" he murmured as he nuzzled his face into her neck and began gently nipping on her sensitive flesh.

____________________________________________

The next day, Sam, Dean and Y/N were outside of a department store where a woman killed another woman just hours ago. Seeming over a pair of shoes, Dean was sitting outside on a bench munching on a burger as Sam and Y/N investigated the scene. The entire area flooded with cops and coroners.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam asked, annoyed as they approached him. "What does it look like I'm doing?" he asked with a mouthful of burger as he glanced at his brother, "I'm taking my lunch break. What’re you two doing?" he added, taking another bite of his burger just as Sam and Y/N shot him an un-amused look. "Werking" Sam deadpanned.

“Dead body. Possible demon attack, that kind of stuff” Y/N sassed, stuffing her hands in her pocket as Dean rolled his eyes and got up from the bench. He chucked his burger in her hands before he began to dramatically cough, clutching his chest. “Sam, Y/N, I’m sorry. It’s just, I don’t have much time left and, uh-” He croaked before letting out an exasperated cough.

Y/N rolled her eyes in annoyance as Sam let out a scoff, unamused. The two shared a sad look as guilt began weighing on Y/N’s chest, "Yeah, right. Alright, I’m sorry” Y/N sighed, “Apology accepted” Dean spontaneously recovered, attempting to take the burger back but Y/N yanked her hand away, taking a bite out of the burger.

He rolled his eyes at her, "You suck" he grumbled as she let out a scoff. "You should know" she retorted back skittishly with a mouth full of burger, earning a gag of disgust from Sam. “Guys, seriously!” Sam groaned dramatically.

“What?” they both shot back together like innocent children having been caught stealing cookies when they shouldn’t, glancing at him with wide eyes, causing Sam to roll his eyes in annoyance. “I really don’t get how you two manage to be adults with the attitudes of two children” he muttered, causing her to shoot him a glare.

Bobby emerged through the entrance, fully decked out in a suit and tie. His once shaggy greying hair, slicked back neatly. Y/N and Sam’s eyes widened at the sight as they choked back on a laugh while Dean’s jaw had nearly dropped down to the floor, craning his neck. "Whoa, looking spliffy, Bobby. What were you, a G-man?" Dean commented with a low whistle. “Returning from the DA’s office. Just spoke to the suspect.” Bobby told them as he fixed his crooked tie.

“Yeah? So what do you think, then? Was she possessed or what? “ Sam asked as Y/N wiped her mouth, handing Dean back his burger. “There's none of the usual signs. No blackouts, no loss of control. Totally lucid, just think she really wanted those shoes” Bobby explained, the three younger hunters shared a look of disbelief as he continued. “Spilled a glass of holy water on her, just to be sure. Nothing.”

“Well maybe she's just some random wack job” Dean suggested as he trailed his eyes down Y/N body. “If it had been an isolated incident, maybe. But first the family, now this? I don’t know, man” Y/N said, shaking her head. Her eyes met with Dean’s, catching him in the act of ogling her. Her eyes narrowed at him but he simply shot her a smirk in response, taking another bite of his burger. “Yeah, I believe in a lot of things. Coincidence ain't one of em” Bobby agreed with Y/N. “Did you kids find anything around here?” He asked.

“No sulfur. Nothing” Sam sighed, shaking his head. “Well, maybe something” Dean chimed in, crumpling up the now empty burger wrapping paper in his hand before pointing to the security camera. “See? I'm working” he sassed, patting Sam's shoulder as he winked at Y/N. This made the two roll their eyes in exasperated annoyance.

-

They were all now in the surveillance room. Sam and Y/N were sat side by side, her feet kicked up on the table while Bobby sat against it and Dean paced the room. “Anything interesting?” Dean asked them as he leaned between their shoulders. “I don't know yet. Might just be a guy,” Sam murmured as he rewinded the video. In the footage, a man began approaching the shopper. “Or might be our guy” Y/N added as she propped herself up to get a better look.

They watched the video intently, the man approached the shopper, pointing to the woman she killed. It seemed as though he was coercing her, the hunters shared a look as the video ended.

-

Sam and Y/N were now in town getting food, currently walking back to the Impala. Dean stayed back at the motel room and Sam tagged along, so they took Baby instead of Quinn. Y/N noticed from the corner of her eye that a young blonde woman was seemingly following her and Sam as they crossed the street. Sam had his head in his phone while Y/N's head was on a swivel, taking note of all the possible dangers around her.

She gave Sam an elbow to the arm to get his attention, “Dude, I think there’s something stuck to our shoes” she murmured to him. He looked up from his phone at her, puzzled as he watched her glance over her shoulder to the young blonde woman trailing behind them. He followed her gaze, catching the gaze of the blonde as she quickly looked away.

"Think she's following us?" he asked in a whisper. "Either that or she's checking out your ass” she whispered back to him, causing him to scoff and roll his eyes as they continued walking. As they reached the Impala, the woman suddenly disappeared. Nowhere in sight.

They both exchanged a look before Y/N shook her head. "Probably just my paranoia” she mumbled to him in an attempt to convince herself, they unlocked the car as Sam opened the driver's door, "I'll drive. You're tired." he mumbled, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. She nodded and got into the passenger seat without protest, buckling herself in as Sam started the car.

____________________________________________

“What time is it?” Bobby asked Dean as he yawned, the two were staking out a bar. “Seven past midnight” Dean responded, checking his watch. They were in Bobby’s truck now, “You sure this is the right play?” Bobby questioned tiredly. “No. But I spent all day canvassing this stupid town with this guy's stupid mug..” Dean groaned, taking up a picture of the mystery man from the video from his dashboard.

“…and supposedly he drinks at this stupid bar and- AH!” He exclaimed startled when Sam knocked loudly on the passenger side window, a wide smile on his face. Both Sam and Y/N burst out laughing at Dean’s fearful expression and yelp of surprise. They came back from doing research at a local library on Y/N’s bike, Dean and Bobby didn’t notice them since they parked behind.

Dean scowled at the two as he rolled down the window as Bobby rolled his eyes. “That’s not funny” Dean grumbled as Sam opened his door. “Yeah, okay” Sam snorted, pushing the seat forward, with Dean in it, so he and Y/N could climb in the back. “Alright, so, our John Doe’s name is Walter Rosen. He’s from Oak Park, just west of Chicago. Went missing a week ago” Y/N told them as she fixed herself in her seat.

"The night the Devil’s Gate opened?" Dean questioned, adjusting his seat back to its normal setting. "Yep,” Sam nodded. “So you guys think he’s possessed?” Dean asked, “Well, it’s a good bet” Sam shrugged. “So, uh, he just walks up to someone, touches them and they go stark raving psycho or something?” Y/N mumbled as she stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets.

“Those demons that got out of the gate, they’re gonna be able to do all kinds of things we haven’t seen,” Bobby responded, “You mean the demons that we let out” Sam said bluntly, “Guys.” Dean interrupted upon seeing Walter hop out of a car across the street, right in front of the bar. “Alright, showtime” Y/N said firmly, cocking her gun.

“Wait a minute” Bobby stopped her, “What?” She scoffed, “What did I just say? We don’t know what to expect out of this guy. We should tail him till we know” Bobby reprimanded her. “Oh, so he kills someone and we just sit here with our junk in our hands?” Dean protested. “We’re not good dead, boy!” Bobby shot back firmly.

“We’re not gonna make a move till we know what the score is” He added in a tone filled with authority. Both Dean and Y/N seemed ready to protest again. Sam on the other hand, “Hey, Bobby, I don’t think that’s an option” The younger Winchester chimed in. "Why not?” Bobby asked, confused as they all turned their heads to look in the direction Sam was pointing at.

To see Isaac and Tamara getting out of their own vehicle, both heading towards the bar. "Damn it!” Bobby cursed, smacking the dashboard. They all shared a look before climbing out of Bobby’s truck, "Looks like we're doing this" Y/N grumbled as she shoved her gun into the back of her jeans, slamming the truck door shut.

The hunters stood outside the bar, watching through the windows as Walter made his way to the bar, ordering his drink. Tamara and Isaac were both sat at their table, sipping on their drinks. “How are we gonna do this?” Dean whispered to Y/N as they all ducked down, trying to watch and stay unnoticed.

Walter got up from his seat at the bar and began making his way to the bathroom. Isaac and Tamara kept a close eye on Walter, the male hunter pressed a kiss to his wife’s cheek before getting up to follow Walter. Suddenly, a man grabbed Isaac as he was making his way towards the bathroom, snatching his flask of holy water away from his hand before tossing it onto the floor.

His eyes flashing black as he growled, “I don’t like hunters in my bar” indicating he was possessed by a demon. Everyone else in the bar's eyes flashed black, deeming them all to be possessed as Walter emerged from the bathroom, a sickening smirk on his face as he stalked over to them. Fearful expressions flooded Isaac and Tamara’s faces, not realizing exactly what they had walked into. Initially thinking it was only one demon they were dealing with. Not seven.

"Fuck” Sam hissed as they all watched the scene through the window. They all began banging on the door with their bodies but the demons had barred it shut from the inside. They heard Tamara’s screams as the others sadistically laughed.

“Move, move!” Y/N yelled at them to step back, placing her hand on the door. They all stepped back with their weapons drawn as she allowed the energy to flow through her body, her veins shining blue but it was no use, the door simply would not budge. Unknowingly, the door was barred with iron, one of the few things her power couldn’t break through.

“Motherfucker!” She shouted with fury. They could still hear the screams of Tamara and Isaac, the hunters grew more desperate as they kept trying to open the door. “I’ve got an idea!” Bobby said suddenly, rushing back over to the truck. The three younger hunters followed to suit.

“Bobby, what are you gonna do? Ram the place with your truck!?” Dean asked, growing impatient as they all hopped in, buckling up their seatbelts. Bobby started the truck with a firm nod, “That’s exactly what I’m gonna do, son” He stated before flooring the pedal.

They all held on to whatever they could, gripping tightly onto the door and anything else they could for support as Bobby drove the truck straight into the bar, crashing through the door. Glass shattered everywhere like sharp rain before the truck came to a sudden halt and all four hunters quickly hopped out.

Pieces of debris and broken wood fell to the floor, the place was in complete disarray. All seven demons turned to them with wide black eyes, holding back a sobbing and hysterical Tamara. Isaac laid sprawled out on the floor in a pool of his own blood, flowing from his mouth.

They quickly emerged from the truck with bottles of holy water, spraying them at the demons, all hissing in sizzling pain as the water burnt their skin. Y/N began spraying at the demons holding Tamara. She was freed from the demons, screaming for her husband as Y/N tried to push her towards the truck. “No!! Isaac!! Baby, no!!!”

Y/N attempted to pull her away from him as Tamara kept struggling in her grip, trying to get to her husband. “No, no, no, he’s dead. We gotta go!” Y/N shouted back, her heart paining for the woman who desperately tried to get out of her clutches. Sam, Dean and Bobby continued to toss holy water at the screaming demons.

The scene was chaotic as they all fought against the demons while Tamira tried in vain to go back to her fallen husband. “Get in the truck!” Y/N yelled to the hysterical woman, “Tamara! In the truck!”

“Let go of me!!” She sobbed as she wrestled out of Y/N’s grasp but she grabbed hold onto her again, "Dammit, Tamara, get in the damned truck!" She finally used all her strength to toss Tamara into the truck, holding her into place. “Guys!!” Y/N shouted to Sam, Dean and Bobby. Whistling loudly so they can all get the hell out of dodge.

Without hesitation, Sam climbed into the back of the truck, taking over Y/N’s spot as she hopped back out and ran over to her bike parked outside. Bobby quickly went around and jumped into the driver's seat but Dean continued fighting Walter. “Dean!!” Sam shouted, holding onto Tamara, who was screaming and crying, holding onto her like a lifeline.

“I’ve got this!” Dean shouted back while taking on another demon that tried to overpower him. Sam cursed under his breath as Bobby gunned the truck's engine as he waited for Dean to quickly climb up into the truck, “Dean, get the fuck in!!” But Dean didn’t listen to them.

Quinn’s engine roared as Y/N sped towards the bar, ramming her bike straight into Walter. "Oof!" She yelped as she rammed Walter, successfully making him stumbled backwards as he growled in pain. Dean took this opportunity to snack Walter by his collar before tossing him into the tray of the truck.

Leaving him screaming and trapped since devils traps were spray painted around it. He quickly threw his leg behind Y/N, climbing onto her bike, “Go, go, go, GO!!” He yelled Y/N and Bobby to floor it, snaking his arms around her waist.

The two vehicles sped off, leaving the wreckage behind as the demons screeched in anger, unable to chase after them. In the back of the truck, Sam held onto Tamara as he attempted to comfort her but to no avail. "Shh it's okay, you're okay, I've got you, you're okay" He whispered to her as she clung onto him, completely broken by the scene she had witnessed.

Upfront, Y/N revved her engine and sped down the road as Bobby followed behind. Dean tightened his grasp around her waist, pressing his chest against her back as they both raced down the highway in the dead of night, the adrenaline from the fight still flowing through their veins.

But right now, she was thoroughly pissed with Dean for almost getting himself killed, just so he could trap Walter in Bobby’s tray. She could feel Dean’s chest rise and fall rapidly against her back as he exhaled a harsh breath. Although she was furious with him for trying to play the hero, she took note of how comfortable and safe she felt with his arms around her waist, their breaths in sync with one another.

____________________________________________

Now back at Tamara and Isaac’s house, Walter was tied to a chair, under a Devil trap while the sounds of the hunters arguing echoed through the house. “And I say we’re going back” Tamara insisted, furious. “Just hold on a second” Sam tried to reason with her, pleading. “I left my husband bloody on the floor!” Tamara exclaimed, tears in her eyes.

“Okay, I understand that, but we can’t go back” Sam stated firmly, emphasizing with the now widowed woman. “Fine, then you stay. But I’m heading back to that bar” Tamara pointed at him, “I’ll go with her” Dean began heading to the door.

“That place is crawling with demons! If we go back, we risk getting killed!” Sam protested, looking at his older brother with disbelief as Y/N stepped in front of him and shoved him harshly on his chest. “It’s suicide, Dean!” Y/N exclaimed, frustration in her voice as Dean stumbled back.

“So what? I’m dead already!” Dean shouted back. The room went silent for a moment, the only thing heard were Tamara’s muffled sobs. Y/N stared back at Dean with a look of disbelief, the gaping hole in her chest returning as her breath got caught in her throat.

Sam’s nostrils flared at the thought and the choice of words by his brother, “How are you gonna ‘em? You can’t shoot ‘em. You can’t stab ‘em. They’re not just gonna wait in line to get exorcised!” Sam pointed out with anger in his voice. “I don’t care!” Tamara screamed. “You don’t even know how many of ‘em there are!” Y/N yelled.

“Yeah, we do,” Bobby interrupted, walking forward with a book in his hands. All eyes snapped over to him, “There's seven. Do you have any idea who we’re up against?” Bobby said, a mixture of fear and anger in his tone. “No. Who?” Dean shook his head, growing impatient. “The seven deadly sins. Live and in the flesh!” Bobby stated as Dean scoffed, a small smile playing on his face, “What’s in the box?” He chuckled.

His chuckles died in his throat as everyone looked at him with a deadpan expression, “Brad Pitt? Se7en? No?” He tried to see if anyone got his reference. Sam’s eye twitched with annoyance as Bobby chucked the book in his hands and Y/N smacked him upside his head. Gritting her teeth.

Dean scowled at the pain and rubbed the back of his head, “Ow! What the hell?!” He hissed, glaring at Y/N for slapping him. "That's for being stupid and almost getting yourself killed!" Y/N scolded him. Dean scoffed at his girlfriend berating him before opening the book, “What’s this?” He asked Bobby as he rifled through the pages.

“Binsfeld’s Classification of Demons. In 1589, Binsfeld ID’d the seven sins. Not just as human vices, but the actual devils” Bobby stated as the bells went off in Sam and Y/N’s head, realization dawning on them. “The family” They said in unison, putting two and two together of prior victims. Bobby nodded, confirming their suspicions.

“They were touched by Sloth” Sam shook his head as Y/N ran a hand over her mouth before she began toying with her necklace. “And the shopper?” She asked, “That’s Envy’s doing. And the customer we got in the next room” Bobby told them, pointing to the door Walter was behind. Confirming that Walter was possessed by Envy. “I couldn’t suss it out at first, until Isaac” He said, turning to Tamara.

She was rubbing the back of her neck, a look of disdain in her eyes. “He was touched with an awful guttony” She clenched her jaw at Bobby’s words. “I don’t give a rat's ass if they’re the Three Stooges or the Four Tops!” Tamara shouted at them, “I’m gonna slaughter every last one of them!”

“Well, you just can’t charge in like some kind of punk John Wayne” Sam retorted back. “John Wayne? That sounds like a pretty badass way to go out in my book!” Dean spoke with a hint of annoyance. This earned Dean another smack to the back of his head by his girlfriend, Dean gritted his teeth, attempting to protest but she shot him a nasty glare that made him shut his trap.

“We already did it your way! You burst in there half-cocked and look what happened!!” Bobby snapped, getting up in Tamara’s face. Tamara flinched back due to Bobby’s booming voice as the three younger hunters fell silent. “These demons haven’t been topside in half a millennium! We're talking medieval. Dark Ages. We've never faced anything close to this! So we are gonna talk a breath…AND FIGURE OUT WHAT OUR NEXT MOVE IS!!!” The veteran hunter bellowed, absolutely fed up with the lack of logic being portrayed by Dean and Tamara.

Tamara gritted her teeth at him as Bobby let out a deep breath, the hot steam propelling from his nose. He felt bad for blowing up but it needed to be said. Silence filled the room for a few moments, the atmosphere thick with tension and anger. Tamara turned away, her eyes filled with unshed tears as she tried to keep it together. The trio’s heads were bowed like kids being reprimanded by their pissed off and disappointed father.

“I am sorry for your loss” Bobby apologized before trudging out of the room and into the chamber they kept the demon of Envy bound, Tamara’s eyes remained on the floor before she stalked out behind him. Leaving the trio all alone. Sam and Y/N shared a wide eyed look due to Bobby's explosive reaction before glancing back at Dean, then following behind Bobby with Dean.

“So you know who I am, huh?” Envy chuckled darkly as they all entered. “We do. We’re not impressed” Bobby snapped, his eyes narrowed to slits at the demon. “Why are you here? What are you after?” Sam demanded. Envy just smirked in return, causing Y/N’s blood to boil at the vial expression. She was confused as to why she couldn't feel that burning sensation at the back of his neck, typically caused by the presence of demons but she chose not to question it. Brushing it off as the demon's ancient and unusual species. “He asked you a question.” Y/N growled as Dean slammed his jacket down on the table.

“What do you want?” he demanded, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he leaned against the table. Envy began chuckling again, causing everyone to grow impatient so Y/N reached into her jacket. Retrieving a flask of holy water from her pocket before unscrewing it and began tossing it into the demon's face. The holy water splashed all over the demon's face, eliciting a hissing sound from its lips, as its flesh burnt from the contact. It growled through the pain and clenched its jaw as it spoke.

“We already have what we want” Envy hissed at the hunters. “What's that?” Dean asked, tilting his head. “We're out. We’re free” The demon stated as if it were obvious before smirking. “My kind we’re…everywhere. ‘I am legion, for we are many,'” Envy quoted as he laughed maniacally. Sam’s blood ran cold as he and y/n’s eyes connected. “So me, I'm just celebrating. Having a little..fun”

“Fun?” Sam scoffed as he cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah. Fun. See, some people crochet, others golf. Me?” Envy smirked, his eyes glancing over to y/n. “I like to see people's insides…on their…outsides” His eyes trailed down the psychic's body as he licked his lips. Y/N’s body stiffened at his lasering gaze, uneasiness filling her as she instinctively crossed her arms over her chest. Bile began to rise in her throat from the look Envy was giving her.

Dean's eye twitched as his fingers curled into a fist, his jaw clenching. He was about to pounce on the demon but was held back by both Sam and Bobby. “What, too pretty for you in one piece?” Y/N spat as she stood her ground, refusing to be intimidated by the disgusting and vile creature in front of her. “Oh no, on the contrary.” Envy practically purred. “I like my women feisty…and bloody” Its eyes raked down her form once more, causing her to grit her teeth and Dean to rile up more. Struggling against Sam and Bobby.

“You touch her, I swear to GOD, I will END you!” Dean continued to struggle against his brother and Bobby’s hold on him. “Dean! Relax!” Sam pleaded. Y/N could see the fire dancing in her lover's eyes, the pure rage radiating off of him as his nostrils flared with each harsh breath he took. “Relax, I’m not gonna touch her…not yet anyway” The demon replied with an evil smile as its eyes locked on her like a predator stalking its prey.

Hearing the demon's response only served to anger Dean even more as he fought back with more power, causing Sam and Bobby to put more force into restraining him. Y/N eyes widened, quickly moving around the men to place her hands on Dean's shoulders. "Charming, calm down!" She shouted as she shook him.

But her words went in one ear and out the other as he continued wrestling with his two brothers, desperate to get to Envy and rip his throat out. "Dean, STOP!" Y/N shouted desperately, her grip on his shoulders tightening as she shook him harder.

He stopped struggling for just a moment to look at her, his eyes still filled with anger, but seeing the pleading expression on her face made him pause. He was still breathing heavily, his nostrils flared, and his jaw clenched, but he stopped fighting against Sam and Bobby.

Tamara’s gaze remained on the demon, filled with vengeance as she leaned down, her hands pressed against her knees. “I’m gonna put you down like a dog” She spat at him, like venom burning her tongue. “Please” Envy let out a bark of laughter, finding Tamara's threat humorous. “You really think you’re better than me?" The demon sneered, its twisted smirk never leaving its face.

“Which one of you cast the first stone, huh?!” Envy shouted as everyone narrowed their eyes at him, “What about you, Dean and Y/N?” He turned his attention to the elder Winchester and the psychic, Dean’s arm draped around Y/N’s waist. “You two are practically the walking billboards of gluttony and lust”

The couple smirked in response, sharing a knowing look as Dean playfully caressed Y/N’s ass. Earning an eye roll from her before Envy turned his attention to Tamara. “And Tamara. All that wrath? Ooh, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk” Tamara growled, gritting her teeth as the demon continued to taunt and mock her.

“It’s the reason you and Isaac became hunters in the first place, isn’t it?” Her hands trembled with anger as they balled up into tight fists at her sides. “It’s so much easier to drink in the rage…than to face what happened all those years ago” This made Tamara snap.

Tamara yelled in anger and lunged at the demon, grunting as she punched him across his jaw, over and over. “Tamara!” Bobby shouted as he and Y/N tried to separate the enraged hunter from the smirking demon. Bobby and Y/N managed to pull Tamara backwards as Sam continued to restrain a still agitated Dean who was glaring at the smug and unharmed demon, laughing.

“My point exactly. And you call us sins” Envy sneered. “We’re not sins, man. We are natural human instinct! And you can repress and deny us all you want, but the truth is, you are just animals” He further continued to berate them. “Horny, greedy…hungry..” He scoffed as Dean narrowed his eyes at him. “..violent animals.” He leaned forward.

“And you know what? You'll be slaughtered like animals too” Envy finished with a deadly whisper before looking behind him. “And the others? They’re coming for me” He said smugly, leaning back into his chair. Dean smirked at his cocky smile, “Maybe” He shrugged before leaning down to get in his face. “But they’re not gonna find you, cause you’ll be in hell” Dean’s words made the demon’s smug look drop.

“Someone send this son of a bitch packing” Y/N sneered as Tamara smirked, “My pleasure” She sneered, accepting the book with the incantation from Bobby. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus” Envy began shaking, groaning and grunting in his chair as he trashed around. “Omnis satanica potestas” Tamara continued reciting the exorcism, her voice filled with determination and a sense of satisfaction.

Sam, Dean, Bobby and Y/N walked out the room as Tamara continued to chant. Envy screaming his head off. “Well, I don’t think we’ll have to worry about hunting them,” Bobby told the trio. “What does that mean?” Sam asked as he crossed his arms over his chest. Bobby sighed deeply, resting his hands on his hips. “I think maybe this joker’s right. They’re gonna be hunting us and they’re not gonna quit easy”

“Great. Awesome. Fantastic” Y/N muttered sarcastically as Dean nodded. “You guys, why don’t you take Tamara and head for the hills? I’ll stay, slow them down, buy a little time” Dean offered. Sam and Y/N’s head snapped to Dean’s direction. “Fuck no” Y/N immediately protested, her eyes narrowing at her boyfriend as she shook her head. “You’re insane, Dean. Just forget about it, okay?” Sam snapped at his brother.

“They’re right.” Bobby chimed in as Dean scoffed, “They’re six of em, guys. We’re outmanned, we’re outgunned. We’ll be dead by dawn” Dean exclaimed, pointing out the obvious. “Maybe, but there’s no place to run that they won’t find us” Bobby shot back. Sam and Y/N shared a look before letting out a frustrated sigh.

Y/N clapped her hand on Sam’s shoulder before snaking her arm around his waist to the side before she turned to face Dean, wrapping her free arm around his shoulder. “Look, if we’re all going down, we’re going down together, alright?” She stated, firmly. Sam shot Dean a pleading look as he snaked his arm around Y/N’s shoulder.

Dean looked down at his girlfriend for a moment, a hint of a smirk tugged on his lips before his eyes flickered over to his brother. Both Sam and Y/N were sporting their classic puppy dog eye look. He knew there was no use in arguing with them, especially when they pull out the big guns to get their way. So instead he nodded his head in agreement and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer into his side. “Well, let’s not make it easy for them”

Envy let out one last scream as the house shook, the candles on the table blowing out. Indicating the demon was now expelled back to hell, inside, Tamara shut the book before exiting the room. “Demon’s out of the guy.” She stated. “And the guy?” Sam asked. “He didn’t make it,” Tamara said without a care in the world.

Tamara’s blunt remark made the hunters' faces harden upon hearing the news about the host’s demise. “Damn it” Y/N hissed as she looked away and leaned into Dean’s side.

-

Some time had passed and Y/N took the liberty of disposing of the body. She was now digging a hole in the back of Tamara’s house to bury it. Dean was outside, watching over her as she knelt by the shallow grave. His arms were crossed over his chest as his eyes were fixed on her, his sharp green eyes never leaving her form, studying her every movement. He offered to help her but she denied any help, which he respected, not wanting to push any boundaries.

She could feel his eyes on her, so she spun around, shooting him a quick thumbs up. In a way of saying, ‘I’m fine, you can go back inside now’ Dean huffed out a small chuckle. He knew she was fine. But as a man, and her man, he was protective over her. But he also knew how independent and capable she was of handling herself and this situation. So, he nodded back at her, blowing her a kiss before he reluctantly went back inside the house.

Y/N breathed out heavily before turning to face the poor guy. “I’m sorry you got caught up in this, man” She apologized to the dead host, Walter Rosen as she grunted, lifting him up gently. Y/N lifted Walter’s body, resting it over her shoulder. She tried her best to be careful, to be gentle, knowing that the man was no longer here to feel it. But she couldn’t help but wince and feel sympathy as she tried with all her strength to carry and lay him down in the shallow grave she dug for him.

Walters arm poked out from under the tarp, her brows furrowed when she saw an unfamiliar symbol etched into his arm. Almost as if it was burnt in. She knelt to take a closer look, pulling the tarp down to examine the symbol etched into the host’s arm. It was an odd-looking symbol that she had never seen before. It was almost like a cross, but with extra markings and symbols on each end. Her fingers hovered over the mark for a moment before finally touching it, her eyes narrowing as she felt a slight sting on her fingertips from the heat.

The mark was hot, but not scorching hot. It was enough to cause a slight pain in her fingertips as she touched it. Y/N quickly retracted her hand, rubbing her fingertips against her jeans before looking back at the symbol, her brows furrowed in confusion. She had never seen this mark before. It was definitely not a demon sigil. She took a mental note to mention this to the others.

Y/N took one last look at the symbol etched into Walter’s arm before covering it back up with the tarp, making sure to leave some of it free as she rose to her feet. She stood there for a moment, her brows furrowed in confusion and curiosity, wondering what the symbol could mean.

With her mind still occupied with questions about what she had just seen, she quickly dusted off her hands on her jeans, digging into her duffel bag laid right besides her. She retrieved the salt from her duffel and began salting Walter’s body. As she salted the body, something caught her eye. Something very odd this time. A blue glow omitted from under the tarp, on the side of Walter’s waist.

Y/N paused in her movement, her hand that held the salt bag hovered in the air for a moment as her head snapped in the direction of where she had seen the blue glow. Curiosity and confusion took over her as she slowly crouched down and placed the bag of salt on the ground. She slowly and gently pulled the tarp to the side, careful not to make too much noise or disturb the body as she tried to see what that blue glow was.

Upon lifting up Walter’s shirt, Y/N found a knife. Y/N let out a small gasp upon seeing the knife. She slowly reached out and picked it up, her fingers wrapping around the handle as she held it up carefully. Y/N’s eyes widened as she stared at the knife in surprise. It looked old, ancient even. But the craftsmanship of it looked amazing, almost like an heirloom.

She ran her thumb against the cold and smooth, silver blade, being mindful of the sharp edge. The blue glow of the knife’s blade was faint but noticeable enough. It was a beautiful blade, but the question was, where did it come from? And why was it glowing?

She let out an audible gasp as a weird chill ran up her arm, her own veins glowing blue. She didn’t intentionally focus her power onto the knife so the fact that it somehow connected to her, bewildered her. A million thoughts, questions, and scenarios ran through her mind as her eyes stayed glued on the glowing blue veins that now travelled up her arm. Something in her was telling her that something wasn't right with this knife.

The fact that it connected to her should've been enough to tell her that it was more than just an ordinary weapon or heirloom. But another side of her mind was telling her that it somehow found her. Her fingers curled around the handle of the knife as she glanced down at Walter's corpse. Y/N gingerly stuck it into her high leather boots before drenching his body in accelerant.

With the corpse doused in fuel, Y/N stood up and grabbed the matches from one of her jacket pockets. She struck a match, throwing it into the grave before stepping back, watching the body in the pit engulfed in flames. Once she finished setting the man’s body ablaze, she picked up her duffle bag and slung it over her shoulder, turning to head back to Tamara’s house, her mind still puzzled and intrigued by what she had just seen and experienced.

Once she stepped up the porch and into the house, she found Sam filling up flasks with holy water and Dean loading up a shotgun. The brothers seemed to have paused in their conversation as she walked in, their curious gazes landing on her when they noticed the look of despair on her face.

“Hey, sweetheart. Is everything okay?” Dean asked, concern clear in his voice as he set down the shotgun and took a step towards her. “Uh…yeah- yeah” Y/N cleared her throat, giving Dean a tight smile before tossing her duffel on a table. “Um, Sam. Can you look something up for me?” She asked her friend as she took up a paper from the table and a pen from the pencil holder. Quickly sketching out the symbol she saw on Walter’s hand.

Sam looked away from refilling the flasks after Y/N spoke to him. He furrowed his brows as he took the paper from her, his eyes studying the symbol on the paper. He looked up at her with a puzzled expression. “Where’d you see this?” Y/N leaned against the table, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she looked down at the floor. She let out a small sigh before looking up straight into Sam’s eyes and replying. “It was etched into Walter’s arm right before I burned him.”

Dean’s brows furrowed, “That’s all you saw?” He asked, having a feeling she knew more than she was letting on. Y/N’s lips pursed together as she let out a short huff, her gaze shifted to the floor for a moment before meeting his gaze again. She contemplated whether telling them about the knife or not but Dean could read her like a damn book, so there was no point in hiding it. “Actually, I found something else”

Both brothers’ gazes locked on her as she hitched one foot up. Reaching into her boot to retrieve the knife. She held it up, the ancient dark knife in its original form as she twirled it between her fingers. The blade of the knife still glowed blue and the dark iron seemed to almost absorb the light from the room, making it even darker. Sam and Dean stared at the knife in Y/N’s hands, their eyes widening in surprise and slight caution at the sight of it.

“Found it on Walter” She stated before tossing it onto the table, the iron hit the table with a loud thud, the light in it dying as soon as she didn’t have her hands on it anymore. Dean and Sam both took a closer look at the ancient-looking knife, examining its features. Dean stepped forward, picking the knife up and holding it in his hand. He turned it over, observing every detail. “The fuck is this?” The elder Winchester scoffed.

“I have no idea,” Y/N shrugged, her eyes fixed on the knife in Dean’s hand. “And when I first touched it, It “activated” my powers without me trying, shit was weird.” She made quotation marks with her fingers as she explained. “What do you mean it ‘activated’ your powers?” Sam furrowed his brows, turning to face her. “You didn’t do it intentionally?”

She shook her head as she pursed her lips, “That’s what I’m saying” She said as she crossed her arms over her chest. Sam and Dean exchanged a look at her answer. Their expression and body language showed signs of alarm and concern. They both knew better than anyone else about Y/N’s powers and how they could change the outcome of any situation.

So the fact that the knife somehow activated her powers without her intention was incredibly worrying. Before anyone can say anything else, J.B. Burnett’s ‘I Shall Not Be Moved’ started playing on the radio out of nowhere. The device turned on spontaneously by itself, startling everyone. Their heads snapped over to the small old box. The trio exchanged an alarmed look as Dean quickly snatched up his shotgun. “Here we go”

The door and windows were salted to the T, Bobby and Tamara were stationed at the back of the house while the trio readied themselves in the front. Dean and Sam took their positions by the windows and doorway, weapons at the ready. Y/N stayed behind them, positioned in the centre of the room. Her gaze was fixed on the front door, waiting for any signs of movement, any sound or feeling that would indicate the demon’s presence.

“Tamara!! Tamara!! Help me!! Please!!” The sound of Tamara’s recently deceased husband, Isaac’s, voice boomed from outside. Pleading for her help. Y/N stiffened upon hearing the voice of the dead man, her heart clenching in her chest. She could only imagine the look on Tamara’s face, knowing the sound of her husband’s voice must’ve pained her all the more.

“Tamara!!” Isaac shouted, his bloodied hand smacking across the hard wooden railing as he crawled up the steps to the porch, “I got away!! But I’m hurt bad!! I need help!!” Isaac pleaded, Tamara was sobbing and shaking in her place at the back of the house. Her hand clutching at the Palo Santo stake, “It’s not him. One of those demons is possessing his corpse” Bobby tried to drill it into her head, assuring her that whatever was calling out to her was not her husband.

Dean clenched his jaw as he listened to the demon-possessed corpse shout out for help, his grip on the shotgun tightening. He glanced back at Tamara, noticing her shaking and crying. His expression softened as he felt sympathy for her, knowing damn well how she must have felt hearing her husband’s voice. He shot a quick look at Sam and Y/N before focusing back on the door again.

Y/N bit down on her lip as she glanced at Tamara. She could understand the woman’s desperation, the desire to go out and help her “husband”. But as she continued listening to the “voice” of Isaac, she knew it wasn’t him. It was a demon, a malicious creature disguised as someone’s loved one for the sole purpose of getting to them.

The demon knocked his knuckles against the door, “Baby! Why won’t you let me in?! You left me behind back there. How could you do that?!” Tamara’s sobs grew louder as they all listened to the demon’s desperate pleas, the words cutting deep into the woman’s heart. She stumbled forwards from her spot, desperate to get to the door, until Bobby’s firm hand landed on her arm, holding her in place. “We swore at that lake in Michigan, remember? We swore we would never leave each other!”

“How did he know that?!” Tamara sobbed as Bobby kept a firm gaze on her, “Steady, Tamara. Steady, steady” Bobby warned her, caressing the heartbroken woman’s shoulder as she sobbed. “You’re just gonna leave out here? You’re just gonna let me die?” Tamara’s body trembled desperately, her entire being wanting to get to the door and let her husband in, reminding herself that it wasn’t him.

“I guess that’s what you do, dear” The demon sneered. “Like that night those things came to our house. Came for our daughter. You just let her die” Those words made Tamara snap once again, “You son of a bitch!!” She screamed as she pushed the door open, attacking the demon possessing her husband's corpse.

“Tamara, no!!” Bobby shouted as he rushed forward. But it was too late, Tamara and the demon had gone tumbling down the back porch, breaking the salt line to the back door. “You’re not ISAAC!!” She bellowed as she drove the Palo Santo stake into his chest. With Tamara outside and the five demons storming into the house, there was nothing holding them back from attacking the group inside anymore.

As the larger one headed straight towards Bobby, a nasty smirk on his face. He paced towards the veteran hunter, who wore a feigned look of fear. The demon stopped in his tracks when he realized he had been stuck in a devil's trap. Bobby chuckled maliciously as the demon looked down at him fearfully, “Fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life, son” He smirked as he got out his book with the incantation.

While Bobby was exorcizing Gluttony, Dean had been caught up with his own demon. A petite blonde woman, dressed quite provocatively. His eyes widened as he tried to douse her in holy water but she caught his hand midair, a lustful smirk plastered across her face as she backed him up into a corner. “I suppose you’re Lust,” Dean pointed out, visibly gulping.

Lust chuckled, “Oh, baby, I’m whatever you want me to be.” She purred, her voice dripping with sultry and desire as she stepped closer to Dean. She moved so close that her body was flushed against his, her hand pressed against his bare skin at the neckline of his shirt. He tried to toss her off but the brute raw strength from the demon overpowered him.

“Yeah, alright. Just stay back!” Dean grunted as he tried to fight off of her grip. “Or what?” Lust challenged, running her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck. The demon’s touch made Dean feel a sudden desire to kiss her, feeling sick to his stomach at the thought of even laying eyes on someone who wasn’t Y/N. He grinned with relief when he saw the love of his life appear behind the woman.

Y/N snuck up behind Lust, her eyes focused on the demons back. She gripped the handle of the old knife tightly in her hand, her fingers digging into the smooth metal. Lust glanced behind her, sensing the presence of something or someone. Before she could turn around, Y/N jammed the blade right into the demon’s back. She twisted the knife and pulled it free, causing the demon to screech out in pain.

“He’s got a crazy girlfriend who’s gonna kill you, bitch!” Lust spun around to face Y/N, her eyes fixed on her. She winced in pain and anger as she clutched her fresh knife wound, her eyes narrowing at the sight of Y/N. “You little—“ She growled, her eyes glowing black, she screamed as she smoked out through the host’s mouth.

Y/N raised the hand that held the glowing blue knife, looking at it as it trembled. The power of the knife was definitely making itself known. Dean pushed the demon's body aside and made his way over to Y/N, “You okay?” He asked, his eyes scanning over her for any signs of injury. She nodded frantically as she rushed over to the host’s body to check if she had caused the death of the innocent girl the demon was wearing.

Her jealousy of seeing the demon touch Dean had gotten the better of her. Something she had never done before. It was unlike her and it scared her, a slight wave of relief filled her when she saw that the girl’s body had already had a bullet wound right to her heart.

Dean watched her from where he stood, noticing how she checked the body for any signs of life. He knew she was a bit out of character, but he understood why. Anyone in Y/N’s shoes would be. As she confirmed that the girl was already dead, his gaze softened more as he moved over to her, “Hey,” He said softly, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder, “It’s alright, you didn’t kill her.”

“She was already dead” He reminded her gently, his voice soothing and reassuring. “You didn’t do anything wrong, princess.” He took the knife from her hand and examined it. He studied the markings carved into the blade, running his thumb carefully over the carvings. “This thing is giving your powers a boost,” He said, looking back up at her. “Are you sure you’re still in control of yourself?” He asked, his concern still present in his features and tone.

Y/N looked offended as Dean asked this, she was ready to snap at him for his question when the house shook, having no time to answer him. “Sammy!” They shouted in unison, the sound of a door blasting down. The door to the room Sam was in. They darted towards the room, adrenaline pumping through their veins at the thought of the younger Winchester being attacked.

They stumbled into the room, seeing the broken door on the floor. Sam was surrounded by three demons who had meticulously avoided the devils trap. “Come on, you really think something like that is gonna fool someone like me. I mean, me?” The demon smirked at Sam as Dean and Y/N emerged behind them. “Let me guess, you’re Pride” Sam sneered at the demon.

The demon smirked, spinning around to face Dean and Y/N as Sam darted over to them, standing at one side of Y/N while Dean stood on the other. The demon raised his hand to the ceiling with a smirk, causing the devil's trap at the top of the ceiling to be broken into nothing but rubble. “Mm. The root of all sin. And you two, are Sam and Dean Winchester. And you…are little miss Y/N L/N”

Y/N bristled immediately, her eyes narrowing at the demon with defiance. “Those are our names, don’t wear it out now, honey” She snarked, her lip curling in annoyance at the demon’s tone as Sam’s face dropped and Dean’s jaw clenched.

The demon chuckled and stepped closer to them. “That’s right, I’ve heard of you. We’ve all heard of you two” He gestured between Sam and Y/N. The prodigies. The Boy and Girl King and Queen.” Sam raised an eyebrow in surprise, his eyes fixing on the demon. “I’m sorry, what?” He asked, his tone puzzled and alarmed as he looked between Y/N and the demon.

Then shooting a questioning look in Dean’s direction. Y/N was visibly taken aback, her breathing becoming shaky as her eyes darted around. The word ‘King and Queen’ stuck in her mind. “Looking at you two now, I gotta say, don’t believe the hype.” Pride snapped, “You think I’m gonna bow to cut-rate, piss-poor humans like you? I have my Pride after all”

The air was thick with tension as the demon taunted them, his words cutting through the silence and adding to the already palpable stress in the room. Dean was ready to lunge at the demon, to hell with whether he died or not. But Y/N snatched him by his arm, yanking him back harshly. Looking at him as if he were bonkers for attempting to lunge at a demon completely unarmed. Her fingers gripping tightly at the old blue glowing knife between her fingers.

“Relax, sweetie,” She hissed, her voice firm and low, her gaze locked on him intently. He opened his mouth to reply, but she silenced him with a cold glare, silently warning him to shut his damn gob. The demon chuckled again, his eyes gleaming with malice as he watched them.

“Now with your yellow-eyed friend dead. I guess I don’t really have to do a damn thing, do I?” Pride smirked, whistling for his two friends to begin attacking the trio. Y/N, Sam, and Dean jumped into action, ready to take on the three demons. Pride simply stood back as he watched his companions attack. “Have fun, kids” He drawled, a smirk resting on his face as he observed the fight.

Y/N clutched the knife as Sam and Dean dodged attacks from the two demons, she aimed for Pride with her own. Pride dodged the knife easily, his reflexes quick and agile. “Ah-ah-ah, I’m not playing that game with you, little miss” He sneered as he evaded her every attempt to stab him, enjoying the frustration on her face.

Y/N growled, ducking to swiftly swing her feet around, knocking Pride off of his own feet. Unbeknownst, Dean was tossed into the wall by another demon and Y/N straddled Pride and dug the knife into the demon's shoulder. Pride screamed in pain, reeling back from Y/N as she pressed the knife into his shoulder. The pain was excruciating, the holy power behind the weapon was more than he imagined.

“You little—“ He grunted, his eyes narrowed as he clutched his wounded shoulder. The demon began smoking out through its host’s mouth as Dean recovered from being thrown into the brick wall. He staggered to his feet, rubbing his head and wincing at the pain. His eyes widened at the sight of his girlfriend with a knife in the demonic shoulder of a powerful and ancient demon, now limp in her arms.

He swiftly dodged a punch from the demon when suddenly, an familiar blonde woman (Ruby) appeared through the door. Wielding a very similar knife to the one Y/N had found, Y/N had pushed herself up from her feet, only to be shoved back down by Ruby.

As Y/N stumbled to the floor, her head spun, causing her vision to blur for a moment from the immense power the knife was taking out from her. It took a few seconds to clear, once her vision cleared, she looked around, her heart stopping when she saw Sam and Dean both trapped, pinned against the walls by the two other demons.

“NO!!” She cried out, only for Ruby to stab one of the demons, holding up Sam from behind, the corpse lighting up a light orange color from the stab wound and eyes. Dropping limp to the floor. She quickly swung around and stabbed the demon holding Dean up through the back of its neck, retracting her blade from its neck. Both Winchester brothers gripped their throats as air filled their lungs back up.

Y/N scrambled back into her feet, everything happened so fast she barely regained herself, her breath coming in and out rapidly as she rushed over to the brothers. Her hands rested on both their cheeks. “Who the fuck are you?” Dean spat at the blonde woman. “I’m the girl that just saved your asses” Ruby smirked, The two brothers shared a look at the blunt and harsh response, Sam nodded reluctantly at the girl.

“Yeah, fair enough,” He muttered. Y/N was torn between being grateful that she saved the brothers and being suspicious of this random girl until realization dawned on her. “You’re the chick that was following us earlier” Y/N pointed out with a hard expression, now remembering where she knew her face from. Ruby’s cocked a brow and her eyes flickered down to the still glowing ancient knife in Y/N’s hand.

“I’d be careful with that if I were you, Y/N” She smirked, gesturing to the knife before shooting Sam a wink. “See you around, Sam” Y/N’s expression faltered, the comment about the knife was odd to her, especially since Ruby knew her name. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, gripping the knife tighter in her fingers.

“How did you—“ Y/N gasped. Sam raised an eyebrow as the girl left, an odd look on his face. He ran after her, shouting, “Wait!” but she had already disappeared. Y/N’s eyes snapped over to Dean, who was nursing a possibly concussed head. Dean rubbed the back of his head, groaning as he leaned against the wall, his face pale and sweat beading from his forehead. “Ah, man, this hurts like a mother…” He muttered, his vision still a bit hazy.

Y/N stepped towards him, her eyes filled with worry, “Come on, sit down” She ordered, moving closer to support him as she gently guided him towards the wall at his back, he slumped against the wall with a thud. “It’s okay, baby. It’s over”

She pulled his head to her chest, Dean made no attempt to unbury his head from between her boobs as her eyes remained on the deceased bodies. The knife she had somehow..exorcised two demons but the one that girl had full on killed them. Her mind swirled with the new revelation as Dean relaxed against her chest.

Dean let out a low, satisfied hum as he buried his face between her chest, his nose nuzzling between them as he inhaled her scent. “Mmm, you’re comfy” Dean mumbled, his voice muffled. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths as he leaned in closer to her, relishing in the warmth he felt from her body. The feeling of her body against his helping to ease his pounding head.

____________________________________________

The next morning, Sam, Dean and Y/N laid the bodies of the four of the fallen hosts that were possessed by the seven deadly sins in a bigger shallow grave. They had examined the bodies to see the symbol Y/N found on Walter was etched into everyone else’s arms.

Their eyes glanced over to Tamara in the distance, standing by a wooden pier with her husband’s body wrapped up in a white sheet. Flames engulfed him as she gave him a proper Hunter’s Funeral. A final farewell to her lost loved one.

“Think she’s gonna be alright” Sam asked no one in particular after salting the bodies and drenching them in accelerant. “No, definitely not” Y/N answered honestly. Her heart gave out to the fellow female hunter, having lost her husband. Her mind reminded her that the clock was ticking with Dean as she clenched her fists. Bobby paced over to them with a look of frustration.

“Well, you look like hell warmed over” Dean commented, “Well, you try exorcising all night, see how you feel” Bobby grunted, rubbing his chin. “Any survivors, Bobby?” Sam asked. “Just the heavy guy, he’ll make it. Lifetime of therapy bills, ahead, but still” Bobby sighed. “Well, it’s more than you can say for these poor bastards,” Dean muttered, gesturing to the four corpses.

Y/N frowned as she laid eyes on them all, a feeling of dread building up when she looked at the two that were possessed by Pride and Lust. She had no idea what that knife she found on Walter or the one Ruby had done and it gnawed at her. “Bobby, these knives…what kind of blade can exorcise a demon? Much less…kill one?” Y/N asked.

“Yesterday I’d have said there was no such thing” Bobby shrugged as Y/N took the old knife out of her boot. Bobby gave the weapon a good once over, his eyes narrowing at it in thought. “I’ve never seen a knife like this before” He said, his voice low. He ran his thumb over the markings on the blade, his face contorting in thought.

“How the hell did you even get this, anyway?” Bobby asked, looking over at Y/N curiously. She shifted uncomfortably, her hands curling into fists as she avoided eye contact with him. All she wanted was to get her hands back on that knife, to have it close by her side. “Walter, the guy Envy possessed. Found it on his body when I was gonna burn him, it just started glowing” She told him firmly, itching to take it back from Bobby.

“And you took it?” Bobby raised an eyebrow, his voice stern. He knew that taking random items, especially magical or cursed ones, was risky. But she had already taken it, that was done and over with. “Well excuse me, it’s not like I could exactly ignore it!” Y/N defended. Bobby didn’t seem convinced by her explanation, his face still stern. “You should’ve left it alone.” He scolded, shaking his head. “You have no idea what this thing is”

Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest as Sam and Dean pursed their lips. Not butting into the reprimanding Bobby was fishing out to her. “Well it saved our asses, twice. So I’m gonna hang onto it, thank you very much” She snapped, snatching it back from Bobby. This surprised everyone, her snappiness was a trait they were used to but out of nowhere and uncalled for? It raised alarms in their heads.

Bobby’s eyebrows shot up his forehead, surprised by her outburst. He’d never seen Y/N so defensive or stubborn about a simple object. Sam and Dean shared a concerned look, both of them knowing how out of character she was behaving.

Bobby gaped at her snatching back the knife, his eyes wide in surprise. “What’s going on?” Bobby started, his voice serious and sharp, Y/N glared at him as he glanced over at Sam and Dean, shooting them a look that said, ‘Do something!’

Sam nodded in agreement, his expression filled with concern. “Y/N/N, maybe we should listen to Bobby on this one.” He chimed in, his voice soft and reassuring, trying to ease the tension. Dean gently took Y/N’s hand into his, attempting to pry the knife away. “How ‘bout we let Bobby do his research on it and if it’s proven to be safe, he’ll give it back to you, huh?” Dean suggested, pleading with his eyes.

Y/N let out an impatient growl. She couldn’t explain why, but the thought of giving the knife away made her stomach twist and churn. She looked at Dean, her eyes flashing with slight annoyance but it quickly softened when she made eye contact with him. “Fine” She huffed, pulling her hand back, and keeping the knife clutched in her grip, the markings on the blade glowed softly in protest.

Y/N begrudgingly dropped it into Bobby’s outstretched hand. Bobby took the knife, handling it with care as the glow died. He shot Y/N a warning glare, “You’d better hope this thing ain’t evil” He stated before stuffing it into his jacket pocket. Y/N was itching again to take it back from Bobby but once it was out of her possession, she calmed down subsequently.

“I’ve got a troubling question, who the fuck was that blonde chick and how could she fight better than us?” Dean asked out of the blue. Bobby shrugged, his expression contemplative. “Beats me, though it sounds like she knew what she was doing. Could be another hunter.” He mused as Sam and Dean shared a glance, both of them having the same thought.

Sam buried his hands into his pockets, “I’ve got a troubling one too.” He said, “What’s that?” Y/N asked. “If we let out the seven deadly sins, what else did we let out?” Dean and Y/N shared a look at Sam’s question, the elder Winchester twirling matchsticks between his fingers. “You’re right, that is troubling” He said grimly as he struck the match, lighting the paper box aflame before tossing it onto the bodies infront of them.

“We might've let out more than just the sins” Bobby muttered, his eyes narrowing as the bodies of the two flames engulfed bodies. “And heaven knows what else got out of there.” Y/N took a deep breath, her mind running away with the possibilities. The idea of something even worse than the sin’s being let loose was a chilling thought. “Amen,” She sighed.

-

The smoke had died down and the bodies were now fully burnt, Tamara was getting ready to leave. Her duffel tossed over her shoulder, “See you gents around” She greeted the men before nodding at Y/N, “Tamara?” Y/N stopped her. Tamara stopped, a curious look on her face as she turned to look at Y/N.

“Yeah?” Tamara asked, her eyes flickered from Y/N to the three men behind her. “The world just got a lot scarier. Be careful, hun” She said gently to the other female hunter. Tamara's lips curled into a small smile at y/n’s words, but a look of sorrow was still in her eyes, “You too, darling” She replied, her eyes flickering to the boys before turning to leave.

She jumped into her car, starting it up. Y/N stood next to the boys as they all watched Tamara drive off. A sense of uneasiness fell over them, the fear of something else being unleashed hung heavily in the air. “Keep your eyes peeled for omens. I’ll do the same and I’ll look into that knife of yours” Bobby said to the trio firmly. “You got it” Dean responded as Sam and Y/N nodded curtly.

Bobby began making his way to his truck, only to be stopped by Sam. “Hey, Bobby?” The veteran Hunter faced the younger ones, the three exchanging looks. “We can win this war, right?” Sam asked, a tinge of hope in his voice but when Bobby’s head dropped and he didn’t come up with an answer. All hope died. “Catch you kids on the next one”

With that, Bobby Singer hopped into his truck. The three watched as Bobby drove off, his truck rumbling off into the distance and out of sight. Y/N shifted uncomfortably, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her jacket. “So, where to?” Dean asked eagerly, clapping his hands.

“Uh…I don’t know, me and Sam were thinking Louisiana, maybe” Y/N told him as they walked over to the Impala and Harley. “Little early for Mardi Gras, ain’t it?” Dean mused as he raised a brow at them. Sam and Y/N shrugged, “Yeah, listen, we were to Tamara and she mentioned this Hoodoo priestess that might be able to help us out with, ya know, with your…demon deal” Sam said as he looked away.

Dean narrowed his eyes at the two, “Nah” He simply said. Y/N and Sam shared an annoyed look, both of them tired of Dean's refusal for help. “Nah? What does that mean ‘nah?’” Y/N asked, her tone slightly irritated. “Sam, Y/N. No Hoodoo spell’s gonna break this deal, alright? It’s a goose chase” Dean stated.

“Yeah, but we don’t know that,” Sam protested. “Yes, we do. Forget it, she can’t help” Dean shook his head, dismissing the subject, “Look, it’s worth a tr-” Y/N tried to protest but Dean cut her off. “We’re not going and that’s that”

“What about Reno? Huh?” Dean smiled, causing Sam and Y/N's patience to wear thin, their brow furrowing in anger. Y/N’s fists clenched by her sides as her eyes fixed on him. “Why do you have to be such a stubborn moron?” She hissed, her tone sharp. “Dean, we have been bending over backwards trying to be nice to you and…I don’t care anymore” Sam snapped.

“Well, that didn’t last long” Dean smirked, knowing his brother and girlfriend would’ve snapped in a matter of time. Y/N took longer than he initially anticipated, however. “Yeah, well, you know what? We’ve been busting our ass, trying to keep you alive, Dean. And you act like you couldn’t care less!” Y/N exclaimed, gesturing between her and Sam.

“What? You got some kind of death wish or something?” Sam added, equally frustrated. Dean’s amused expression was still present on his face, “No, it’s not like that” He said, shrugging nonchalantly. “Then what’s it like, charming?” Y/N asked exasperated. “Sam. Y/N-”

“Please, tell us” Sam pleaded as Dean looked up at them, his eyes filled with pain. “If we trap the crossroads demon, trick it, try to welsh our way out of the deal in anyways, you die and they kill you too” Dean stated firmly, pointing to Y/N and then to Sam. “Okay? You two die. Those are the terms. There’s no way out”

Sam and Y/N’s faces fell at Dean’s explanation. The realization that they were putting themselves and each other in danger just to keep Dean alive hit them hard. Y/N’s lips parted as she tried to find the right words to say but came up short.

“And if you two idiots try to find a way, so help me God, I’m gonna stop you” Dean threatened them, lovingly of course. Sam’s face morphed into one of fear, his heart dropping into the palm of his hands as tears welled up in his eyes. The two scoffed painfully as Y/N ran her hand over her mouth in frustration.

“How could you make that deal, Dean?” Y/N whispered, shaking her head as she tried to stop tears from rolling down her cheeks again. Dean’s face softened, his lips tugging up into a pained smile as Y/N’s tears cascaded down her face. He stepped forward and brought Y/N into his arms, his hand caressing her head soothingly, “You wanna know why?” He asked softly.

“Because I couldn’t live with you dead. Couldn’t do it” He answered softly, her eyes snapped up to meet him at his words. “So what? Now I live and you die?” She scoffed, gently pushing him off. Dean’s hands fell to his sides but his eyes remained on Y/N. “That’s the general idea, baby” He replied in a somber tone before turning to walk away.

“Yeah, well, you’re a hypocrite, Dean” Sam shot back, following after his brother. “How did you feel when Dad sold his soul for you? Because we were there, we remember. You were twisted and broken. And now you go and do the same thing. To Y/N.” Dean’s face hardened, his jaw clenching tightly as the memories of his father sacrificing himself for him flooded his mind.

A wave of guilt washed over him, “That’s different” He muttered under his breath. “No, it was selfish. I love you but it was selfish” Y/N blurted out. Dean’s head snapped in Y/N’s direction, her declaration taking him by surprise. But it hurt most knowing that it was the truth, he couldn’t argue there. “Yeah, you’re right, it was selfish, but I’m okay with that”

Sam and Y/N both stared at him in disbelief, their eyes narrowing, “I’m not” Y/N said, clenching her jaw. “Tough” Dean shot back, mimicking her expression. “After everything I’ve done for our families, I think I’m entitled” Sam’s jaw dropped at his brother’s words. “You think you’re entitled?” Sam echoed Dean’s words, his voice filled with anger.

“You’re not entitled to anything, Dean” Y/N retorted, her tone firm. “You think you can just sacrifice yourself and we’ll be fine?” Dean sighed heavily, “Truth is, I’m tired guys. And- I don’t know. It’s like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel” He continued, rambling on.

“That hellfire, Dean.” Sam and Y/N deadpanned in unison, their tones harsh. Usually they would laugh about making a witty comeback in unison but right now, there was nothing funny about this conversation. “Eh. Well, whatever.” Dean waved them off.

“You’re both alive. I feel good for the first time in a long time….I got a year to live, guys. I’d like to make the most of it. So why don’t you say we kill some evil sons of bitches and we raise a little hell? Huh?” With that, Dean unlocked the door to the Impala. Sam and Y/N both remained speechless, their mouths agape as they watched Dean get in the car.

The audacity this man had, was mind-boggling to say the least. It was infuriating. “You’re fucking unbelievable” Sam scoffed as Dean reached over to Y/N’s motorcycle, picking up the helmet before tossing it over to her. Y/N caught the helmet with a grumble as Dean snarked back, “Very true” She glared at him before getting her bike ready to go.

She hated knowing that the man she loved was essentially giving up on life, that he didn’t even care about his impending doom. It killed her.

She swung her leg over her bike as Sam hopped into the passenger seat, placing the helmet on her head before firing up the engine. As she did, Dean started up the Impala, the engine roaring to life. She spared one last frustrated look at him before they both headed off down the road, leaving Tamara’s house behind.

Other than Dean’s impending demise to hell, what was really boggling Y/N’s mind was where the hell did that knife come from and when the hell was she gonna get it back?

____________________________________________

Authors Note: Authors Note: A verrryyyy long overdue chapter has come to an end but that just means the beginning to a new season! Thank you once again for being so supportive, sweet and loving to me within this past month. I’ll forever be grateful for the lovely family I’ve found in this journey.

I hope you guys enjoyed! Feel free to ask any questions, tell me what you loved and hated (I’ll try my best not to spoil my plans lol) and a special thanks to my darling @karrah89 for helping me with a certain idea for this season❤️❤️❤️

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

See you in the next one! (Coming sooner than expected with a little surprise hehe)

Xoxo