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doctorbitchcrxft · 3 days

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Provenance | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, j e a l o u s y

Word Count: 6703

A/N: Taglist will be closing at the start of season 2! if you aren't currently tagged, and you'd like to join, please please let me know within the next two posts!!

Series Rewrite Masterlist

You gripped your beer tightly watching Dean getting a girl’s number across the bar from you.

“(Y/N), if you hold that thing any tighter, you’re gonna break it,” Sam snorted. “What’s your deal?”

You looked back at Sam but were unable to pull your eyes from Dean and his new “friend” for longer than a few seconds. “Nothing.” You took a swig of your drink.

“Are you sure you don’t know how you feel about Dean?” the brunet taunted.

You shot him a glare. “Shut up.”

He snickered in response and returned to looking over the papers in front of him.

You waved Dean over, who held a hand up behind the woman’s back to get you to wait. You gestured again and his smile dropped. He said something to her quickly before making his way back over to you.

“I think we got something,” Sam told his brother.

Dean grinned over his shoulder. “Oh, yeah, me too. I think we need to take a little shore leave; just a little bit. What do you think, huh? I'm so in the door with this one.”

You rolled your eyes. “So, what are we today, Dean? Rock stars, army rangers?”

“Reality TV scouts,” he grinned at you, ignoring the bite in your voice. “Looking for people with special skills. I mean hey, it's not that far off right?”

“If by ‘not far off’ you mean ‘completely off the mark,’ then you’re spot on,” you deadpanned.

Dean shot you a look while he turned to his brother. “By the way, she's got a friend over there. Possibly hook you up. What do you think?”

“Dean, no thanks, I can get my own dates,” Sam responded to his question.

“Yeah, you can, but you don't.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Dean shook his head. “Nothing. What you got?”

“Mark and Ann Telesca of New Paltz, New York were both found dead in their own home, a few days ago. Throats were slit. There were no prints, no murder weapons, all—” He trailed off as his brother looked back at the women at the bar.

“Dean!” you snapped your fingers at him.

He turned back. “Huh, what?”

“No prints, no murder weapons, all doors and windows locked from the inside,” Sam continued.

“Could just be a garden variety murder, you know, not our department,” Dean answered.

“No. Dad says different.”

“What do you mean?” Dean’s interest was piqued at the mention of his dad.

You pointed at the map. “John noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York. First one here in 1912, second, right here in 1945, and the third in 1970. Same M.O. as the Telescas. Throats slit, doors locked from the inside; the whole nine. Now, so much time passed that nobody checked the pattern. Except for your dad. It’s frustrating how much better he is at this than me sometimes,” you muttered at the end of your sentence.

“Alright, I'm with ya. It's worth checking out. We can't pick this up ‘til first thing though right?” Dean asked, trying to contain his excitement.

“Yeah,” Sam answered.

“Good.” Before you could stop him, Dean was off to the two women again.

You were fuming; staring daggers at him and downing the rest of your drink.

Sam snickered at you. “Let’s get you out of here before you end up killing one of those girls.”

“Nah, I’d kill your brother. They didn’t do anything wrong,” you responded, helping Sam pick up the papers scattered about the table. “How ‘bout the Telescas’ house?” you asked.

***

You and Sam headed back to the motel you were staying in to research the history of the Telescas’ home. You sprawled out across Dean’s bed with your laptop, and Sam sat on his bed with his laptop.

“Finding anything?” you asked him.

“Nope. You?”

You shook your head. “Nada.”

He shut his laptop. “So? You wanna talk about it?”

You shut yours, too. “About what?”

“Dean?”

“Oh, hell no,” you snorted.

“You two are made for each other,” he deadpanned at your boxed-up emotions.

“Fuck off, Sam,” you retorted. “What about you? Still not ready to jump back into the dating pool?” You snuggled into the blankets on Dean’s bed, reveling in his scent emanating off them.

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“What was she like?” you asked after a moment.

“Who?”

“Jessica. You never told me much about her.”

He sighed. “She was just… the best, man. You two would’ve gotten along great, honestly. She was—” he grinned sadly at the thought of her, “—so smart. So beautiful. Quick, witty, and…” he shook his head. “I was looking for wedding rings. Few weeks before she...”

You smiled sadly at him. “She sounds amazing.”

“She was,” he responded. A quiet settled over the room.

“Don’t you think she would’ve wanted you to be… I don’t know, happy? Do you think she’d want you to move on? It’s been almost a year,” you said. “Jesus, I’ve known you guys for almost a year now," you realized.

He chuckled before going quiet again momentarily. “I think she would. But Jess… I don’t know if I’ll ever be fully over her. She was my best friend, y’know?”

You nodded. “I get it. I’m glad you had that with her, though. Sounds like you really loved each other.”

“We did.”

You and Sam went silent once more, and you succumbed to the tiredness of your limbs and mind. You were so comforted by the scent of worn leather, Dean’s cologne, and whiskey, that you slept better than you had in years.

***

When you woke up the next morning, Sam was standing over you, shaking you gently. You popped up and grabbed his wrist, twisting it and putting a hand to his throat. “Hey, hey,” he tried to calm you down, “Dean’s back.”

You released him immediately. “Sorry, dude. Uh… reflexes,” you laughed awkwardly.

“It’s okay. Dean does that, too.”

The man in question stumbled into the room tiredly. “Move your asses. Let’s go.”

***

You and Sam had just swept the Telescas’ house for EMF while Dean slept in the car trying to get over his hangover. When you returned to the car, you beeped the horn. Dean shot up a foot in the air and groaned.

“Man, that is so not cool.” He adjusted his sunglasses and leaned back against the car door. You and Sam climbed into your seats and began to explain what you had been up to.

“We just swept the Telescas with EMF. It's clean. And last night, while you were, well, out—” Sam trailed off.

Dean’s smirk made your stomach drop. “Good times.”

“—we checked the history of the house.”

“Nothing strange about the Telescas, either,” you said, swallowing your feelings.

“Alright,” Dean’s gravelly voice came, “so if it's not the people and it's not the house, then maybe it's the contents. Cursed object or something.”

“The house is clean,” you said.

“Yeah I know, you said that.”

“No, no, it’s empty. No furniture, nothing,” you explained.

Dean turned back to you. “Where's all their stuff?”

***

You felt so out of place in the swanky auction house the Telescas’ belongings had been brought to. Even the Impala looked like an outcast in the parking lot full of McLarens and Corvettes.

You and the brothers wandered around the auction house, and you wrapped your jacket tightly around yourself.

“Consignment auctions, estate sales. Looks like a garage sale for Wasps if you ask me,” Dean commented. He took some food from a tray table as a man came up behind you.

“Can I help you?” the man questioned.

You wheeled around to face him.

“I'd like some champagne please,” Dean said in a mock posh voice.

You could’ve killed him. “He’s not a waiter.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow at you, and you held out your hand to the man. “I’m (Y/N) Dewitt. This is Sam and Dean Connors. We’re with Connors Limited. We’re art dealers.”

The man didn’t give you the courtesy of a handshake. You fought the urge to make an inappropriate comment.

“You. Are… art dealers,” the man said, clearly having difficulty grasping that concept. “I'm Daniel Blake, this is my auction house. Now, this is a private showing, and I don't remember seeing you on the guest list.”

“We're there, Chuckles, you just need to take another look.” Dean, of course, talked through a mouth full of food.

You shot a sharp look at Dean as he took a glass of champagne off the tray. He turned and walked off, and you followed him.

“Can you chill out?” you asked him.

“What?” he asked through a mouthful of champagne.

You rolled your eyes. “You know what I’m talking about. I don’t like this crowd either, but relax.” You noticed a painting just beyond where you and Dean were talking. It was of a family in an American Gothic style; presumably from the early 1900s. The family contained three young girls in frilly dresses, a man with a gaunt and creepy face, and a woman you assumed was the mother seated in a chair.

“A fine example of American Primitive wouldn't you say?” a woman’s voice called from behind you.

You turned to the place the voice came from to find an extremely good looking woman in a sleek black dress with glossed lips descending the staircase. You noticed Dean beginning to ogle her as Sam answered her. “Well, I'd say it's more Grant Wood than Grandma Moses. But you knew that, you just wanted to see if I did.”

The woman smiled as she approached you. “Guilty. And clumsy. I apologize. I'm Sarah Blake.”

“I’m Sam,” he said. “This is my… brother, Dean.” Dean was still stuffing his face with food from passing trays. “And our friend, (Y/N).”

“Dean. Can we get you some more mini-quiche?” Sarah questioned.

You snorted. You liked her.

“I'm good, thanks,” he smiled through a full mouth.

“So, can I help you with something?” she asked Sam. You knew she liked him; she was giving him the same look you often gave Dean.

“Yeah, actually. What can you tell us about the Telesca estate?” Sam asked her.

She grimaced. “The whole thing's pretty grisly if you ask me, selling your things this soon. But Dad's right about one thing, sensationalism brings out the crowds. Even the rich ones.”

“Is it possible to see the provenances?” Sam asked.

The man from earlier came up behind you. “I'm afraid there isn't any chance of that.”

“Why not?” you asked.

“You're not on the guest list. And I think it's time to leave.”

You rolled your eyes, dropping your polite disposition. “Don’t have to tell us twice.”

“Apparently, I do,” he said.

“C’mon, Dean,” you said, dragging his arm out.

***

You and the brothers found a decently priced motel and approached the rooms you had been assigned.

“Grant Wood, Grandma Moses?” Dean scoffed at his brother.

“Art history course. It's good for meeting girls,” Sam replied simply.

Dean unlocked the door to his room and chuckled. “It's like I don't even know you.”

You walked a little further down to the room next to theirs and unlocked it only to find a gaudily outfitted room full of obnoxious disco decor. The "do not disturb" hanger was even of John Travolta’s silhouette from Saturday Night Fever.

“Huh.” You dropped your bag off and headed back to the boys’ room.

“What was… providence?” Dean was asking as you entered the room.

“Provenance,” you corrected. “It’s like a biography for a painting. You use ‘em to check the history of the pieces; in this case, to see if they have a freaky past.”

“Alright, professor,” Dean taunted you. “Well, we're not getting anything out of Chuckles, but Sarah…” he smirked at his brother.

“Yeah, maybe you can get her to write it all down on a cocktail napkin,” Sam smirked back.

“Not me,” Dean laughed.

You shot a look at Sam, too.

He seemed only mildly horrified. “No, no, no, pickups are your thing, Dean.”

“It wasn't my butt she was checking out,” Dean snorted.

You giggled despite yourself.

“In other words, you want me to use her to get information,” Sam deadpanned.

“Sometimes you gotta take one for the team. Call her,” Dean instructed his brother.

Sam rolled his eyes, but took out his phone. You weren’t sure when he had gotten her number, but he left about an hour later to take her out to dinner.

You and Dean sat in awkward silence for a bit.

“So…”

You went silent again.

“What’s goin’ on with us, (Y/N)? You’ve barely spoken a word to me this whole trip.”

You huffed. “Nothing.”

“Obviously, it’s not nothing.” Dean held your challenging stare.

“Seriously, drop it, please,” you said.

“Fine. You wanna go get some food?”

You smiled despite yourself. “You know I do.”

You and Dean found a crappy diner with deliciously greasy burgers to stuff your faces with.

“So, how ‘bout you, sweetheart? Why don’t you ever go out?” Dean asked.

“On dates, you mean?”

He nodded.

You nibbled on a fry. “I’m just not one for hookups. I can’t take ‘em,” you admitted. “You, though, are king of the unattached drifters.”

He chuckled. “What’s wrong with hookups?

“I get too attached, which kind of defeats the whole purpose,” you replied. “The idea of being intimate with somebody I don’t even know makes me want to throw up.”

“Why? You’re gorgeous. Anybody would kill to get with you," he said casually.

You ignored the way your heart swelled in your chest. “It’s not that, it’s just…” you sighed. “I’m, like, allergic to vulnerability.”

“I get it,” Dean chuckled. “You know by now I’m not exactly the best with it, either.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re worse than me,” you quipped. “You look like you’re gonna throw up any time you have to tell me you’re sorry or something like that.”

“Maybe it’s just your face,” he retorted.

“Hey!” you giggled. “You can’t call me gorgeous one minute then tell me looking at me makes you sick the next.”

He chuckled. “I just did, so…”

“Whatever, Winchester. What is it about hookups you enjoy so much, anyway?”

He shrugged and took a bite of his burger. “Sex is just fun, I guess. Always helps me blow off steam.”

You scoffed. “I’m sure it does.”

“I’m serious! Helps me take a break from… all this.” He gestured around him.

“That’s why you have hobbies, Dean. Sex is not a hobby.”

“It can be! You draw, Sam reads, I fuck."

“Well, get a better one,” you scoffed.

“What would you suggest I do? Knitting?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, just… something a little more wholesome, maybe. You said it yourself, it doesn’t always make you feel great.”

“Never should’ve told you that,” he responded.

“Well, ya did, so.”

He snorted at you. “It’s frustrating how well you know me sometimes.”

“Oh, look at that, another crumb of vulnerability from Mr. Closed Book.”

“That’s the best diss you could come up with?”

“Hey, it’s not easy being effortlessly funny all the time,” you retorted. “It’s a lot of pressure.”

***

When you and Dean returned to the motel room, you pulled out your whetstone to sharpen your knives.

“Who you plannin’ on carvin’ up, sweetheart?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” you answered.

“Remind me not to piss you off,” he remarked.

“You do literally all the time,” you quipped. “You’re lucky you’re still in one piece. If you give me yours, I’ll sharpen ‘em, too.”

“Thanks,” he said. He handed his knives over to you.

Sam burst through the door at that moment holding a stack of papers. “Got ‘em.”

“So she just handed the providences over to you?” Dean questioned.

“Provenances,” you corrected.

“We went back to her place, I got a copy of the papers—”

Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly. “And?”

“And nothing. That's it. I left.”

“You didn't have to con her or do any… special favors or anything like that?” Dean questioned.

“Dean, would you get your mind out of the gutter, please?” the younger brother scoffed.

“You know when this whole thing's done, we could stick around for a little bit,” he suggested.

“Why?”

“So you could take her out again. It's obvious you're into her, even I could see that.”

Sam ignored his brother. “Hey, I think I've got something here.”

You headed over to Sam’s seated position at the desk and looked over his shoulder at the papers. “ ‘Portrait of Isaiah Merchant's family, painted 1910’,” you read off.

“Now, compare the names of the owners with my dad's journal,” Sam said.

Dean pulled it out. “First purchased in 1912, Peter Simms. Peter Simms murdered 1912. Same thing in 1945. Oh, same thing in 1970.”

“Then stored, until it was donated to a charity auction last month. Where the Telescas bought it,” Sam continued.

“So what do you think? It's haunted? Or cursed?” you asked.

“Either way, it's toast,” said Dean, getting up from his bed.

***

Under the cover of night, you and the brothers broke into the auction house. You were consistently impressed with and sexually frustrated by how easy scaling tall fences and gates were for Dean.

“Come on!” Dean urged you.

You disarmed the security alarm, wearing gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints. “Go ahead,” you whispered.

Dean picked the lock at your cue. You shone your flashlight ahead of you searching for the painting. When you found it, you and the boys were in and out within minutes. You and the boys had clearly been breaking and entering for years. You found it comical almost how good you were. You brought the painting out to a field behind the arthouse and set it alight.

Dean dusted off his hands. “Ugly ass thing. If you ask me, we're doing the art world a favor.”

***

Dean banged on your door the next morning. “We got a problem. I can't find my wallet.”

You opened it. “How the hell do you lose your wallet?”

“I think I dropped it in the warehouse last night.”

“Fuck, dude, that’s bad.” You started pulling on your boots as he paced around the room.

“Yeah, I know. It's got my prints, my ID— well, my fake ID anyway. We gotta get it before someone else finds it. Come on.”

You and the brothers hurried around the auction house searching for the wallet. Sam was clearly frustrated with his brother until he caught sight of Sarah.

“Hey guys!” she smiled.

You wheeled around at the sound of her voice and attempted to act cool.

“Sarah! Hey,” Sam breathed.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Ahh, we.... we are leaving town and, you know, we came to say goodbye,” Sam responded.

“What are you talking about Sam, we're sticking around for at least another day or two,” Dean grinned as he strolled up to the two. He took his wallet out of his pocket and shot a look at Sam. “By the way, I'm gonna go ahead and give you that $20 I owe you.” He turned to Sarah. “I always forget, you know.” Dean chuckled and you grinned as he held out the cash to his brother. Sam took it and glared at him. “Well, we’ll leave you two crazy kids alone, I gotta go do something… somewhere.”

“Smooth, Dean,” you told him as you walked away from Sarah and Sam. The two of you headed back out to the Impala and sat in it waiting for Sam. When he returned, he was frantically saying the painting was back in the auction house.

“I don't understand. We burned the damn thing,” Sam rushed out.

“Yeah, thank you, Captain Obvious,” Dean remarked.

“Alright, we just need to figure out another way to get rid of it. Any ideas?” you chimed in.

“Well, um, in almost all the lore about haunted paintings it's always the painting's subject that haunts 'em,” Sam began.

“Yeah. So we just need to figure out everything there is to know about that creepy-ass family and that creepy-ass painting. What were their names again?”

“Merchant,” you answered. “I say we find us a bookstore.”

***

And so, that was where you headed. You found a proprietor whose personality was interesting, to say the least. You found his quirk had a bit of charm to it.

“You said the Isaiah Merchant family right?” he asked you.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Sam said.

You and Dean were flicking through a book with pictures of guns in it. The proprietor laid a book of newspaper clippings on the table in front of you. “I dug up every scrap of local history I could find. So, are you folks crime buffs?”

“Kinda. Yeah. Why do you ask?” you responded.

He held up the newspaper article before him. It talked about the sinking of the Titanic, and just next to it, read “Father Slaughters Family, Kills Himself.”

“Yes. Yeah, that sounds about right,” Dean replied.

“The whole family was killed?” You tilted your head.

“It seems this Isaiah, he slits his kids' throats, then his wife, then himself. Now, he was a barber by trade. Used a straight razor,” the proprietor explained.

“Why'd he do it?” Sam questioned.

“Let's look. Ahh... ‘People who knew him describe Isaiah as having a stern and harsh temperament. Controlled his family with an iron fist. Wife, uh, two sons, adopted daughter…’ “ he skimmed on. “Yeah, yeah, yeah… ‘There were whispers that the wife was gonna take the kids and leave.’ Which of course you know in that day and age, um, so instead, old man Isaiah, well, he gave them all a shave.” He drew his hand across his throat and made a noise to go along with it. You and Dean joined in laughing with the proprietor.

“Does it say what happened to the bodies?” asked Dean.

The proprietor shook his head. “Just that they were all cremated.”

“Anything else?” you asked.

“Yeah. Actually, I found a picture of the family. It's right here. Somewhere. Right— here it is.”

It was a picture of the painting, but something seemed off to you.

“Hey, could we get a copy of this please?” Sam asked the man.

He nodded, and returned a few minutes later with it.

***

You and the boys sat at a table in the motel room and looked over the copy of the picture.

“I’m telling you,” you started, “The picture at the auction house, Dad’s looking down. Here, dad’s looking out. The painting changed.”

“Alright, so you think that Daddy dearest is trapped in the painting and is handing out Columbian neckties like he did with his family?” Dean questioned.

“Well, yeah, it seems like it. But if his bones are already dusted, then how are we gonna stop him?” Sam asked.

“Maybe other things changed in the painting, too. Maybe it could give us some clues,” you answered.

“What, like a Da Vinci Code deal?” Sam asked.

“Maybe,” you shrugged.

Dean looked down at you, confused. “I’m lost. Still waiting for the movie on that one. Anyway, we gotta get back in and see that painting.” He walked over to his bed and laid back, crossing his arms. “Which is a good thing ‘cause you can get some more time to crush on your girlfriend.”

Sam huffed. “Dude, enough already.”

“What?” he responded.

“What? Ever since we got here, you been trying to pimp me out to Sarah. Just back off, all right?” he said defensively.

“Sam, relax,” you told him.

“Well, you like her don't you?” Dean pushed.

Sam threw his arms up and looked to the ceiling.

“Alright, you like her, she likes you, you’re both consenting adults…” Dean trailed off with a smile.

“What's the point, Dean? We'll just leave. We always leave,” came Sam’s frustrated response.

“Well, I'm not talking about marriage, Sam.”

Sam snarled angrily. “You know, I don't get it. What do you care if I hook up?”

“ ‘Cause then maybe you wouldn't be so cranky all the time,” Dean answered calmly.

Sam stared at him and huffed before looking away.

“Look, I’m not crazy about hookups either, but maybe it would be helpful,” you suggested.

“And this isn't about just hooking up, okay?” Dean continued. “I mean, I think that this Sarah girl could be good for you. And... I don't mean any disrespect, but I'm sure this is about Jessica, right? Now I don't know what it's like to lose somebody like that, but... I would think that she would want you to be happy.” Sam’s eyes welled with tears as his brother continued to talk. “God forbid, have fun once in a while. Wouldn't she?”

“Yeah, I know she would,” Sam responded softly. “Yeah, you're right. Part of this is about Jessica. But not the main part.”

“What’s it about?” you asked.

He wouldn’t answer you.

“Well, we still gotta see that painting, which means you still gotta call Sarah, so…” Dean trailed off.

Sam picked up his phone and cleared his throat. Dean shook his head and closed his eyes, settling back on his bed.

“Sarah, hey, it's Sam… Hey, hi… Good. Good, yeah. Umm. What about you?... Yeah good, good, really good.”

Dean opened one eye and looked at his brother. “Smooth.”

You suppressed a laugh.

“So, ah, so listen,” Sam continued. “Me and my brother were, uh, thinking that maybe we'd like to come back in and look at the painting again. I- I think maybe we are interested in buying it… What?!”

At Sam’s tone, you and Dean snapped to attention.

“Who'd you sell it to?” Sam stood up.

Dean rose and came to stand next to you.

“Sarah, I need an address right now,” Sam urged her.

Once she’d given it to you, you and the boys sped away in the Impala to an upscale neighborhood. You and the boys were surprised to see another car parked right outside the building: Sarah’s.

“Sam, what's happening?” she asked as you and the boys ran up the front steps of the house.

“I told you, you shouldn't have come,” he responded.

“Hello, anyone home?” Dean banged on the heavy front door.

“You said Evelyn might be in danger; what sort of danger?” Sarah asked Sam frantically.

“I can't knock this sucker down. I gotta pick it.” Dean crouched down in front of you and you moved over to the windows, banging on them with all your might.

“What are you guys, burglars?” Sarah yelped.

“I wish it was that simple. Look, you really should wait in the car. It's for your own good,” Sam told her.

Dean got the door open and you followed him inside quickly.

“The hell I will. Evelyn's a friend,” she said, trailing behind you and the boys. “Evelyn?” She moved over to the elderly woman sitting half-turned away from you. Something was wrong and you knew it; the woman’s gaze seemed completely empty. “Evelyn? It's Sarah Blake. Are you alright?” She touched her shoulder gently.

“Sarah, don't. Sarah!” Sam told her.

Evelyn’s head tipped back, exposing her slashed throat.

Sarah jumped back in horror and screamed. Sam put his arm around her and led her out of the room. You and Dean stared up at the painting before following the younger brother out of the house.

***

Back in the motel room, you and Dean clacked away at the keys on your laptops while Sam paced in front of you. A knock on the door stirred all of you from your thoughts. Sarah stormed into the room and brushed past Sam.

“Hey. You alright?” he asked her.

“No, actually, I just lied to the cops and told them I went to Evelyn's— alone— and found her like that,” she answered, wheeling around.

“Thank you,” Sam nodded.

“Don't thank me. I'm about to call them right back if you don't tell me what the hell's going on. Who's killing these people?”

Sam looked back at you and Dean, and you shrugged.

“What,” he told her.

“What?”

“It's not 'who'. It's 'what' is killing those people,” he explained.

Sarah was still looking at Sam like he was insane.

“Sarah, you saw that painting move,” he sighed.

The woman began to pace. “No, no. I was— I was seeing things. It's impossible.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to our world,” Dean grinned.

“Sarah, I know this sounds crazy, but we think that that painting is haunted.”

Sarah laughed humorlessly but had tears in her eyes. “You’re joking.” She looked between you and the Winchesters. “You're not joking. God, the guys I go out with.”

“Sarah, think about it. Evelyn, the Telescas, they both had the painting. And there have been others before that. Wherever this thing goes, people die. And we're just trying to stop it. And that's the truth,” the brunet told her.

“Then I guess you'd better show me. I'm coming with you,” she said matter-of-factly.

“What? No. Sarah no, you should just go home. This stuff can get dangerous and… and I don't want you to get hurt,” he admitted.

“Look, you guys are probably crazy, but if you're right about this? Well, me and my Dad sold that painting that might have gotten these people killed. Look, I'm not saying I'm not scared, because I am scared as hell, but I'm not going to run and hide either.” Sarah strutted over to the door. “So are we going or what?” She walked out.

“Sam?” Dean said. “Marry that girl.”

***

You and the boys returned to Evelyn’s house to scope out the crime scene a little further. Sam picked the lock to let you, his brother, and Sarah inside.

“Uh, isn’t this a crime scene?” Sarah protested.

Dean smirked. “You've already lied to the cops. What's another infraction?”

Once inside, you and Sam got the painting down from off the wall to examine it.

“Aren't you worried that it's gonna kill us?” Sarah asked.

“Nah, it seems to do its thing at night. I think we're alright in the daylight.”

You took the copy of the painting out of your pocket. “Sam, check it out. The razor: it's closed in this one, but it's open in that one.”

“What are you guys looking for?” she asked.

“Well, if the spirit's changing aspects of the painting, then it's doing so for a reason,” Dean explained.

“And look, the painting in the painting,” you pointed out. “Looks like a crypt, or a mausoleum or something.”

Dean grabbed a thick glass ashtray and used it as a magnifying glass. You ignored how your body came alight as he wound his arm around you to reach the painting. “Merchant,” he read out.

***

Your next stop was a graveyard. Several, in fact. You stepped over gravestones carefully to avoid disrespecting the dead even further.

“What, are you superstitious?” Dean asked.

“A little, actually. I think I’m in such deep shit with the spirits already; I don’t wanna make it worse,” you laughed.

“You are somethin’ else, woman,” he smirked. “This is the third boneyard we've checked,” Dean addressed your group. “I think this ghost is jerking us around.”

Sam and Sarah talked amongst themselves behind you and you and Dean walked a bit ahead.

“Over there,” you said, pointing to a mausoleum. The group followed you into the mausoleum where you found four urns in front of little glass-fronted boxes on one wall. On the opposite, there were five brass nameplates.

Sarah looked at one of the boxes containing a little porcelain doll with brown hair. “Okay, that right there is the creepiest thing I've ever seen.”

“It was a sort of tradition at the time,” Sam told her. “Whenever a child died, sometimes they'd preserve the kid's favorite toy in a glass case; put it next to the headstone or crypt.”

Wind blew in the mausoleum, sending a chill down your spine.

“Notice anything strange here?” Dean asked.

“Ah, where do I start?” remarked Sarah.

Sam snickered.

“No, that's not what I mean. Look at the urns,” said Dean.

“Yeah. There’s only four. Where’s the dad?” you questioned.

***

You and Dean discovered that Isaiah’s body had been buried in that same cemetery away from the rest of his family. You returned there that night with Sarah in tow.

You stood watch with Sarah while the boys dug the hole down to Isaiah’s corpse.

“You guys seem to be uncomfortably comfortable with this,” she said.

Sam climbed out of the hole laboriously. “Well, ah, this isn't exactly the first grave we've dug. Still think I'm a catch?”

You giggled when Dean’s shovel tapped something hard. “Think I've got something.” He cracked the coffin open to reveal Isaiah’s rotten bones. You helped him out of the ground and began pouring salt and kerosene over the body.

“You've been a real pain in the ass, Isaiah. Good riddance.” Dean tossed the match he’d struck down on top of the body.

“God, I will never get used to that smell,” you commented.

“What? Burning flesh?” the older Winchester turned his head to you.

You made a face and scrunched up your nose to which Dean just smirked at you and chuckled.

***

You returned to Evelyn’s house soon after to make sure the job was complete and bury the painting. You and Dean remained outside and told Sam to go in with Sarah. You and Dean smiled at each other before turning the radio up. A love ballad played loudly through the speakers, and Sam turned to the two of you. You both snickered at the “what the fuck” gesture he was giving you. Sam motioned for the two of you to cut the music. You sighed and turned it off.

Before you and Dean could say a word to each other, the door slammed shut behind Sam and Sarah. You and Dean jumped out of the car and ran across the lawn, trying your best to unlock it.

“Guys! Hey! Is that you?” Sam called from inside.

“Sammy, you alright?” the older brother asked. Moments later, you got a call from Sam.

“Tell me you slammed the front door,” you said after you answered.

“Nope, it wasn't me. I think it was the little girl,” he told you.

“The little girl? What girl?”

“What’s he saying?” Dean interjected, leaning close to your ear and the phone.

“Yeah, she's out of the painting. I think it might've been her all along,” Sam said.

You snorted humorlessly. “The dad was trying to warn us all along. He was looking down at her the whole time.”

“Hey, hey, hey, let's recap later all right? Just get us out of here," the younger brother rushed out.

“Well, Dean’s trying to pick the lock, but the door won’t budge.”

“Well, knock it down!”

“Okay, smartass, just let me get my battering ram,” you remarked.

“(Y/N), the damn thing is coming!”

“I know, I know, just hold it off til we figure something out. Get some salt or iron or something,” you responded. “Stay on the phone with me!”

Moments later, you heard Sam say to himself, “What kind of house doesn't have salt? Low-sodium freaks.” Another minute or so went by before he spoke back into the phone. “Uh, (Y/N), give me a sec, don't go anywhere.”

You and Dean began to walk around the outside looking for an alternative entrance. A bit of yelling and crashing was heard on the other end of the phone. “You okay, dude?”

“Yeah, for now,” he responded.

“How’re we gonna waste her?” you asked.

“I don't know, she was already cremated. There's nothing left to burn.”

Dean got close to the phone again.

“Then how's she still around?” you challenged.

“There must be something else!” Sam went silent on the other end, but you could faintly hear Sarah’s voice.

“(Y/N), Sarah said the doll might have the kid's real hair. Human remains; same as bones.”

“The mausoleum,” you and Dean said in unison.

“Hang tight, Sam,” you said, snapping your phone shut. You and Dean sprinted back to the car, and Dean drove as fast and as wildly as he possibly could.

“One of these days, your driving’s gonna fucking kill us all,” you said, gripping the leather of the seat next to you and the door.

“Not now, (Y/N),” he responded evenly, driving even faster. He plowed straight through the fence of the cemetery and drove right up to the mausoleum. You and Dean jumped out of the car and hurried into the building.

Dean pounded the door of the glass box containing the doll with the butt of his gun, and then went to walk out of the mausoleum. “Come on, Dean,” he grimaced. “Cover your eyes!” He told you. He shot at the box, and you shielded your face as he did so. You leapt back into action and knocked away more of the glass with your hands, cutting them as you did so. You ignored the burning in your palms and took the doll out of its case.

You held the doll’s hair over the lighter, which Dean was having trouble lighting. “Come on, come on!” he said. Thankfully, the lighter caught the hairs of the doll and sent it up in flames. You dropped it on the floor between you and Dean and watched the rest of the doll burn.

Dean pulled out his phone moments later to call his brother. “Sam, you good?” He breathed a sigh of relief and hung up the phone.

You looked down at your bloodied hands. Dean followed your gaze. “(Y/N), you maniac, what were you doin’ pawin' at that glass with your bare hands, huh?”

“It seemed like a good idea in the moment,” you mumbled.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” He guided you back to the car. He held your wrists and sat you down in the front seat of his car. He went to his trunk and returned a few moments later. He sat next to you and gingerly began wiping down your hands. You hissed and grabbed his hand at the pain. He looked back up to you and paused momentarily.

“Sorry,” you said.

“All good,” he responded and went back to work. He gently cleaned your wounds with an alcohol-soaked rag and began to wrap up your left hand. You watched as he worked, heart swelling at the kind gesture.

“Thank you,” you said.

“You’d do the same for me,” he muttered.

“I would,” you affirmed, smiling.

He picked a piece of glass out of your right hand. You hissed again.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he said. “This one’s probably gonna need stitches.” He handed you his flask. “Drink this.”

You did as told and took a sip, swallowing sharply as you felt the first prick of the needle in your palm. “I’m not trying to be a little bitch. I’m really not when it comes to pain,” you said. “I can finish stitchin’ me up on my own if you wanna get back to Sam—”

“No. Let me,” he responded authoritatively. He looked up through his eyelashes at you before returning his attention to your fingers. He ran his along yours and gingerly cleaned the cuts, giving special attention to the deeper ones before bandaging the exterior of your hands. You flexed them painfully.

“Thank you. Seriously,” you said softly.

“Any time,” he responded.

***

“This was archived in the county records. The Merchant's adopted daughter, Melanie. Know why she was up for adoption? 'Cause her real family was murdered in their beds," Dean explained to you. “Who'd suspect her? Sweet little girl. So then she kills Isaiah and his family. The old man takes the blame. His spirit's been trying to warn people ever since.”

“Huh,” you said. “Psycho bitch.”

He scoffed. “You know you’re talking about a kid, right?”

“Yeah. Psycho bitch all the same.”

You and Dean were waiting outside of the auction house for Sam to finish talking to Sarah. You and he leaned against the car, watching Sarah and Sam talking at the door. Sam turned away from her before turning back moments later. He grabbed Sarah’s waist and pulled him to her, kissing her deeply.

“That's my boy,” Dean smiled.

“Alright, perv,” you remarked. You shoved him down into the car.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth @favoritefandoms27 @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h

quite a few tags are broken; so sorry, my loves!! make sure you have my blog notifs on so you don't miss a chapter, and please let me know if ive misspelled your blog name!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

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invisible-lint · 1 day

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Everything Could Be Okay: Chapter 2

Rhys x Tamlin's sister!reader

Summary: Time for a wedding... Or is it?

Warnings: nothing I can think of!

Word Count: 1.4k

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 3

You had never been a fan of parties. They were too loud, the air too stuffy, and the gossiping of the Spring Ladies you were forced to be with was obnoxious. But you had endured, not wanting to leave Feyre to fend for herself. Or worse, alone with Ianthe who had gotten on your nerves with how pushy she had been while planning what was supposed to be Feyre’s wedding.

Feyre had made her escape nearly an hour ago, heading up to bed, and here you were, stuck, nodding along as you pretended to listen to the gossiping females surrounding you.

"From what I hear, Tamlin is looking to find a husband for you." That got your attention. The room is suddenly suffocating, air struggling to find its way to your lungs. Your hand reaches to your necklace, finding the ring on it. The group of females look worried as you back away, feeling as if the room is closing in on you.

"Excuse me," you manage to mumble, fleeing the room.

You run out to the gardens, not noticing Tamlin following you. You stop, sinking into a bench, trying not to hyperventilate. How could he do this? Just because he wanted to pretend nothing had happened doesn't mean that you would. He sits next to you and you stand, anger flooding your body when you see him, pushing out the panic.

"How dare you?" You hiss, blinking back the angry tears stinging your eyes.

He sighs. "What is it I've supposedly done now?"

"When were you going to tell me you were looking for a husband for me?"

"You're overreacting. Someone asked about marrying you, and I simply said I would think about it."

"No. You don't get to make that choice for me. I am not ready for that. I am not ready to replace him!" You start to pace, trying to keep your temper in check.

"It would be good for you to move on. You can't be unhappy forever."

You lose your temper then, whirling to face him, pointing a finger at his chest. "You don't understand! I felt it when he died! It was like my soul was cleaved in two! That is not something I can just move on from! Had Feyre's death been permanent you would not have moved on as quickly as you're asking me to!" He growls at you, claws sliding out. You flinch, knowing you said too much and turn to run further into the garden. This time, Tamlin doesn’t follow.

The next day is the wedding, and you sit with Feyre as several females prepare her. You watch silently, trying to gauge how she is feeling. You know about the nightmares, and have noticed the weight loss, but you don’t know what to do. What can you do? You’ve offered companionship, tried getting her to eat more of the foods you know she likes, but still, she is wasting away before your eyes. You can’t talk about Under the Mountain, no one talks about it. No one can.

You notice Feyre is looking more and more nervous, and you ask for the room to be cleared. Once it’s just the two of you in the room, you pull a chair over so you’re right next to her, taking her hands in yours.

“I was nervous before my wedding too. I couldn’t eat anything and then I almost fainted right before the ceremony.” You squeeze her hands gently. “But I knew it was what I wanted. Andras and I had courted for nearly 20 years before I agreed to marry him. I suppose what I’m trying to say is if you’ve changed your mind, if you need more time, I will come up with some sort of reason to postpone the wedding. Tamlin doesn’t need to know about any of it.”

Feyre sits for a moment, thinking before shaking her head. “I’m ready. I want this.”

You nod, squeezing her hands again. “Then I’ll be right there with you.”

You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised, Rhysand was prone to making dramatic entrances after all. Showing up right as Feyre was walking down the aisle seemed just like the kind of thing he would do.The part of you screaming its relief is hard to ignore, but you manage to shove it down.

You stride across the lawn, chin held high, interrupting the argument. "I will be joining Feyre as a chaperone." The violet eyed male quirks an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile. “Oh?”

"Yes. No part of your agreement said she had to spend her time in your court alone."

"I suppose not."

"So I'm joining her."

At that moment Tamlin finally finds his voice. "Absolutely not."

"You'd have her go alone?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at your brother.

He sputters, before making an exasperated noise, knowing you're right.

"Don't worry Tamlin, I'll treat her better than you treated my sister," Rhysand taunts. You shoot him an exasperated look, ignoring your brother's snarl. He crosses over to you and Feyre, wrapping an arm around each of you and winnowing away, whisking both of you off to the night court.

You wander the halls of the mountain palace, thinking back on the past few hours. It’d been hard not to laugh when Feyre had thrown her shoes at Rhysand, the look on his face had made it even harder. But more than anything, the interaction made you feel relieved. Somewhere in there, who Feyre truly was still resided. And he had managed to draw her out.

You walk out onto a balcony, glad that whatever magic seems to be heating the interior of the palace extends to out here. You gaze up at the stars, lost in thoughts about how you might help Feyre. When you eventually turn to go back inside, Rhysand is standing in the doorway, staring at you, the expression on his face unreadable. He walks over, leaning against the railing of the balcony next to you.

“This is the second time now I’ve found you roaming in the middle of the night. I’m starting to think you don’t sleep.”

“I don’t.” He raises an eyebrow in response.

“Not well at least. It’s… a long story.”

“One you won’t share with me?”

You cross your arms, shooting him a hard look. “I don’t know you.”

“Ah, yes. But I assume you intend to accompany Feyre everytime. One week a month for the rest of your life gives you plenty of time to know me.”

“I think I know enough.” You squeeze your arms, trying to ignore the way your heartbeat races at the idea of getting to know him.

“Do you make it a habit of assuming you know people based on what you’ve heard?”

“Do you make it a habit of being so obnoxious?” You huff, flinging your arms down to your side, temper stirring. The corner of his mouth quirks up into a smile as he tries not to laugh.

“Are you always so easily irritated?”

You snap, letting everything you’ve been holding in flood out. “You would be too if you were me! I have lost so much and I’m supposed to just smile and pretend I’m okay. That I don’t dream about my dead husband every night. It has barely been a year since he died and someone asked Tamlin if they could marry me. A year! I was with him for almost 100 years and people have the audacity to think I should move on because I can’t be miserable forever! Not to mention that without him, without his sacrifice, Feyre wouldn’t have been able to save anyone! Oh, and speaking of Feyre, I don’t think she wants to marry my brother. But she refuses to admit it and there's nothing I can do and she’s going to end up as trapped and miserable in Spring as I am! And I have nobody to tell this to because the only person who I could ever truly share my feelings with is dead! So I’m so sorry if I’m a little bit irritable.” You finish your rant, chest heaving. Rhysand just stares at you, a little wide eyed, at a loss for words. Suddenly realizing how much you had shared, you turn and run, heading anywhere but there, but he remains rooted to the spot.

He had felt it. Felt all your anger, frustration and anguish down the blossoming bond. Mate. You’re his mate. He lets out a shaky breath, turning to grip the railing, his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t tell you. How could he when you had just shouted at him about how you're still grieving your husband? So this, like so many he already carried, would be his sole burden to bear.

A/N: And there it is! I'm already working on chapter 3 and hope to have it posted sometime either this week or early next week. it's already a LONG one! As always, requests are open and feel free to send them on in!

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Taglist: @lilah-asteria @readingislife2006 @acourtofimagines @mistymoocow @irelanrose @darker-december @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @loving-and-dreaming

#rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #rhys acotar #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #maasverse #fanfiction #imagine

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 2 days

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~Yanderes For Everyone~

Here's some yandere prompts and imagines, both romantic and platonic, for those who want some non sexual yandere adoration ❤️ Happy Pride!

Romantic/Asexual Scenarios:

M!Yandere x M!Reader

Yandere!Best Friend who couldn't figure out at first why it hurt so badly when you had friends other than him until a classmate attempted to ask you out

Yandere!Best Friend really just wants the two of you to continue playing games together, and live together, and adopt a couple of dogs together, and grow old together.. y'know, like how best friends do

Yandere!Best Friend becomes a complete menace when he learns what asexuality is, and that one can be both gay and ace

Yandere!Best Friend who is determined to prove that you don't need anyone else but him, even if it means cutting you off from the outside world

Yandere!Best Friend's method of "seduction" is stealthily turning off your phone's notifications while you're hanging out and tricking you into staying over longer than you intended

"You can't leave yet! I forgot to show you this new game I bought; it has couch co-op, and I just put pizza bites in the oven!"

Fem!Yandere x Fem!Reader

Yandere!Nun who enjoys her days at the convent, tending to flowers and taking care of those in need. She doesn't care so much about her vows to God, but enjoys a life free from the societal expectations she was gifted from birth as a woman.

Yandere!Nun is stunned when she sees you for the very first time. It was like witnessing an angel descend upon the earth, or experiencing a divine prophetic dream

Yandere!Nun loves being near her own personal angel, who's voice brings a joy she's never known before

Yandere!Nun is crushed when she learns that this isn't a final home for you like it is for her, and is instead merely a way for you to receive an education before your inevitable debut into society

Yandere!Nun who becomes determined to keep you with her, forever tending to the garden and feeding the poor, and decides that she will do whatever it takes to keep you by her side...

"Really, aren't you safer here? I mean, under God's protection, we can be happy! ..together.."

Yandere!Succubus x GN!Reader

Yandere!Succubus who's never enjoyed sex, not even once in the past thousand years she's been alive

Yandere!Succubus feels she must "grin and bear it", putting on a fake smile and bracing herself for the worse when she is once again summoned to the human world

Only to be floored by you, who summoned her from a spell in an ominous old book you found in the attic, not knowing that she was a succubus

Yandere!Succubus can feel herself falling for you every time she is summoned for some mundane task that doesn't involve her body, whether it be helping you finish a work assignment last minute or assisting with household chores

Yandere!Succubus refuses to answer the summoning rituals of lonely humans, instead spending all her time with you, even when you don't call for her

Yandere!Succubus knows that when it's your time, you will inevitably be punished, and has already made plans for your "departure" from this world

It'll be like you never died, you'll blink and be 25 again, baking cookies with her in your kitchen while she tells you about her day, laughing as she flirts with you and never questioning why Monday never seems to arrive

Yandere!Merman x GN!Reader

Yandere!Merman who meets you in a very silly and cliche way: being rescued after getting tangled up in garbage

Yandere!Merman acts distraught when you refuse to accept any gifts from him, trying to convince him that you don't need to be rewarded for doing the right thing

Yandere!Merman finds himself enamored with you, wanting to extend your visit longer, going as far as to grab your ankle when you try to leave

He begins running out of reasons to keep you, but you promise you'll be back again in the morning, and boy does he feel like crying when you stay true to your word and return to him

Yandere!Merman feels a little guilty about deceiving you, but when he learns that you're only there on "vacation" and that you'll be going "back to work" soon, he had to do something!

Yandere!Merman who finally gets you to accept a gift, a little glass vial that he claims is a traditional drink his people enjoy

He apologizes over and over again when the "drink" causes you to transform, robbing you of your legs. Wiping your tears away and crying himself, claiming that he had no idea it would have that affect on a human! But that he's ready to take responsibility, and take care of you for the rest of your new life under the water..

Yandere!Spirit x GN!Reader

Yandere!Spirit who's been dead for so long that they've forgotten what it was like to be human

Their body has warped as they lost memories of their previous life, elongating and discoloring, their skin a hollow grey and their body thin and stretched

Yandere!Spirit is approached one day by you, a human who not only can see them, but isn't afraid of them

Yandere!Spirit had forgotten what warmth was, but being in your presence was almost like having a heartbeat again

Yandere!Spirit becomes addicted to you, begging to stay by your side and continue basking in the sunlight of your smile, feeling that this is what it must have felt like to be alive

"Don't ask me to stay home.. does it really bother you that people think you're talking to yourself? I just.. please don't leave me again.."

Aroace/Platonic Scenarios:

Yandere!Catboy x GN!Reader

Yandere!Catboy who breaks into your house one day, and decides that your home is now his home as well

Yandere!Catboy demands attention and affection when he wants it.. and it usually just happens to be when you're busy

Yandere!Catboy has no sense of personal space, and didn't care if you're on the phone with your mother, he needs to use your lap as a pillow right. now.

Yandere!Catboy is a pain in the ass, treating you like a prince's servant, but he adores you in his own, possessive way

"Why do you smell like another cat?! I don't care if that skank was an aCtUaL cAt, those hands should only be rubbing these ears! Now get to it!"

Yandere!Big Sister x GN!Reader

Yandere!Big Sister who isn't actually related to you, but took pity on you and offered you a ride one night when you were walking home in the rain

Yandere!Big Sister sees herself in you, despite the gender difference, believing you to be as lonely as she is

Yandere!Big Sister begins keeping an eye out for you on her trips around town, doing her best to gain your trust slowly enough where she wouldn't scare you off

Yandere!Big Sister invites herself over to your apartment the moment she thinks you might not hate her, bringing gifts of junk food and beer

Yandere!Big Sister is so convinced that you are like her, that she "protects" you from your "obviously shitty" family, blocking their numbers on your phone while you're passed out, isolating you from the people that would hurt you

"That ass forgot your birthday?! I'm so sorry, kiddo.. If it makes you feel any better.. I already picked up a cake on my way over here~"

Yandere!Cult x Deity!Reader

Yandere!Cult Members who passionately worship you with a fervor that makes you worried for their mental stability

Resurrected from obsoletion, you were obviously overwhelmed with joy, being a small, nearly forgotten deity.. but when you witnessed your congregation, you realized they weren't regular worshippers

Yandere!Cult Members exist in a state of ecstasy for you, giving up their lives to join the cult they made in your name

Yandere!Cult Members who take what little text survived from your past followers, and turned it into a doctrine so absolute, that any deviation has them on their knees begging for forgiveness

And when you make yourself known, trying to calm the pitiful humans, share some comfort with them that you are not a god that enjoys this kind of devotion, the Yandere!Cult is in a state of euphoria, unable to comprehend your words..

"You appear! For us! We are not worthy of your presence, and yet you are such a kind and loving god that you appear.. for us!! No sacrifice is too great for one such as yourself!!"

Yandere!Toy Maker x GN!Reader

Yandere!Toy Maker who never liked humans; they talk too much, they smell funny, they grow old, and worse of all, they die

Yandere!Toy Maker changes his tune when he first meets you

Yandere!Toy Maker is fascinated by you, because unlike most humans, you don't annoy him; you're like a wind up dolly, only saying what he wants to hear

Yandere!Toy Maker uses you as his inspiration, making toys and dolls of all types that look like you, often gifting you adult sized clothes that are replicas of the outfits he makes for the little yous

Yandere!Toy Maker seriously considers stuffing your body, turning you into a toy that will never grow old; never leave him

But he could never.. even if he put a drawstring on your back, it wouldn't be the same.. he still doesn't have enough recordings of you talking to replace your presence..

✨Bonus✨

Yandere!Bed x GN!Reader

The mattress was on sale at the cheap little store you were visiting for the first time. And honestly, the deal was too good to pass up. When was the last time you got a new bed? Didn't you deserve to wake up not in pain?

So you brought it home.

It was a pain in the ass, but you got it into your apartment by yourself and set it up.

It. Was. Heaven.

You couldn't remember the last time you fell asleep so quickly, but it felt like you blacked out the second you laid down. In fact, it was so comfortable, you slept through all three of your alarms.

Shit.

But even being late to work and getting yelled at by your boss didn't faze you. The entire day it was like you were walking on clouds; you were so well rested that all you could think about was going home to your new bed: excited to sleep again.

And for the first couple of weeks, your coworkers didn't say anything. But they began worrying about you, suspecting that you might be depressed or something. All you talked about was your bed; how you never slept so well in your life, how laying down was like falling straight into the dream world... But you never looked worse.

Despite your claims that you were sleeping like a corpse, you were beginning to look like the dead. The bags under your eyes were hollow and heavy, your skin was paling, and your movements were slow and weak.

However, it didn't matter what they said.

That mattress was the single best purchase you've ever made in your whole entire life.

Lying down was like being enveloped in the embrace of a parent.

It didn't bother you when your boss fired you in front of your concerned fellow employees..

It just meant that you would have more time to sleep.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #gn reader #fem reader #male reader #fem yandere #male yandere #yandere monster #yandere ghost #yandere succubus #platonic yandere #happy pride 🌈#asexual #aroace #biromantic

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killakalx · 2 days

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17+ content, happy pride month to me :)

vines and beautiful patterns of greenery bloom around you at the expense of your pride, kneeling before poison ivy and melting into the gentle hand caressing your face. there’s no thought behind your eyes other than the intoxicating smell she secretes, red strands of hair flowing and falling over her face, precious petals and threatening thorns framing a gorgeous being. no thought behind your yearning eyes other than who you’ve concluded to be aphrodite herself.

“ivy,” you whine between kisses along her thigh, “let me. please.” her scent takes a hold of you, almost like your words aren’t your own, though you’re sure they aren’t too far off from your usual talk. clearly, it was a mistake to think you’d be exempt from her tactics.

“aw, but your mission,” she teases, legs opening and letting your mouth trail further up. her feigned concern for your original plans makes you whine out of impatience, as the thought had left your mind long ago. but thinking of any responsibility outside of this ache hurts right now. “you don’t wanna disappoint your friends, right?”

“I don’t wanna disappoint you,” the words quickly follow hers, correcting the foolish implication that anything else could occupy you right now.

“far from it,” ivy assures you. the affirmation has you salivating, effortlessly guiding you up her body. a hand pulls at your hair to bring your gaze to hers. “come closer, hm? closer to my face.” you follow through without hesitation, a needy hand palming her chest as the other finds refuge behind her neck. your eyes linger on her lips and begin to admire the smile of control that falls onto ivy’s face, leaving yours to attempt words of desperation. “aht,” ivy’s finger shushes you.

“pamela,” you manage a pathetic plea over the barrier she’s created, “i feel like i’ll die without- just… please, pamela.”

“i’ll satiate you, sweet thing,” she comforts you and allows all distance to close between your bodies, feeling enveloped in vines and roses before she feeds your craving. a hushed and feeble thank you is lost between your lips as they meet hers, leading a wave of ecstasy through your body. you cling to her like a lifeline and she huffs an apathetic laugh at the pliancy, forcing a slow pace as her tongue tangles with yours.

the kiss is deeper than anything you’ve had with anyone else, drawing you impossibly further into a sanctuary resembling the garden of eden. what started as one bite quickly descends to indulging yourself in the entirety of the orchard, as if her means of relieving this ache hide the intention of pulling you further inside until the gate’s out of sight. ‘satiate you’, pamela insinuates, yet the attempt of such an idea leaves you insatiable.

#kali ;; wet dreamz #kali ;; pi #poison ivy #poison ivy x reader #pamela isley #pamela isley x reader #i’d add more tags but they seem… nonexistent

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blouisparadise · 3 days

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Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of May. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) My Heart's In Overdrive, And You're Behind The Steering Wheel | Explicit | 1,649 words

Being late to class means Harry and Louis have to pose together for figure drawings. That being said, the hate each other, but maybe they don't?

2) It's A Question Of Lust, It's A Question Of Trust | Explicit | 2,258 words

Louis is shaken up after being assaulted at the barricade in Panama City and feels guilty, he can't get it out of his head. Harry knows what he needs to escape the worry. Harry steps over, speaking quietly into his ear. "Good boy, doing as I asked." He looks beautiful, his skin golden, dark nipples puckered, his cock starting to get hard. His breath already ragged. "Not that you always do, eh?" "Sir?" His blue eyes stare at Harry, nervous, uncertain. "Letting those tarts fondle and grope you after each show. When you know you belong to me."

3) If Walls Could Talk | Explicit | 2,394 words

Louis is waiting backstage for Harry after his second show in Coventry. It's their last night together before Louis leaves for his own tour. Harry's mission for the evening is to worship Louis' body and make him see himself through Harry's eyes.

4) In An Octopus's Garden With You | General Audiances | 4,682 words

Autistic alpha Harry, a teacher, spends an overwhelming day on a field trip to the aquarium. Luckily, his omega, Louis, knows just what he needs.

5) I Didn't Have To Search Cuz I Still Know Your Number| Explicit | 5,161 words

As Louis approaches the front of the old flat he sees a light on upstairs in what used to be their master bedroom. A memory flicks through Louis’ mind of Louis spread open on the duvet with Harry between his legs nipping and sucking on his hole while Louis whimpered and writhed, clutching the sheets and moaning out Harry’s name. Louis looks down to see his dick at half mass and sighs. Louis flicks the butt of the cigarette to the ground and pulls his phone back out of his pocket. He exits the Uber app and pulls up his contacts, scrolling down to the H’s until he lands upon Harry’s name in his phone. He pulls up their messages and sees the last time they talked was right after the break up all those years ago. Louis begins to type out a message to Harry, hoping he hasn't changed his number. Louis: U up? (sent at 1:14am)

6) You Have Me | Not Rated | 5,529 words

Louis is escaping his mundane reality, avoiding his fiancée, and going to an anonymous hook up party in the woods. When the mysterious stranger who has been eyeing him all night asks him to come back to his tent, Louis is game for anything. He doesn’t know that he’s going to get an offer he can’t refuse.

7) All My Life | Not Rated | 5,553 words

The four times Harry tries to propose and the one time he gets it right (or does he?)

8) Limping In The Limelight | Explicit | 5,832 words

Harry breaks his accessory navicular during a concert in Birmingham in 2015.

9) I Like to Watch | Explicit | 9,287 words

If there’s one thing Harry loves, it’s watching his husband Louis get fucked by other men. After picking up a lad called Zayn who is baffled by this concept, the three men are in for a wild night.

10) House Husband | Mature | 11,853 words

Louis and Harry are happily married with two beautiful kids. Harry is a lawyer who provides for his family and Louis is his sassy house husband. This is a week in their life.

11) For A Sushi Restaurant | Explicit | 13,345 words

And yet, in the depth of the sea, where water started to go from that sky blue to the dark petrol blue, almost black, of the unknown, creatures moved, ready to attack at a moment’s notice, sleek tails and pale, blueish skin helping them with mimesis. Or, cecaelia Harry and human Louis.

12) Peaches And Soft Myth | Explicit | 36,192 words

“Greta kissed me,” he said at last. It wasn’t the main issue, but it was a start. Louis’ smile was radiant. Eyes sparkling with genuine happiness. Harry’s stomach felt a little funny, wishing he could feel as happy as the cheerleader. "Oh, my god? We did it! I’m a genius ! Was it long? Slow and sensual, full of lust and passion, tongues intertwined—" he gasped. “Did she tremble in your arms?” He hugged himself. “That’s not—” “No one believes me when I say I am a good matchmaker. They are always like, ‘Oh Louis, you have the worst eye for couples and men. You always miss the real connections.’ Who missed now? Not me. Nuh-hu, I saw the potential. Your grumpy attitude did not deter me. I'm probably the greatest matchmaker on campus. Don’t you think?” Louis’ smile faltered. “Wait… why do you look as if you were about to throw up?” “She told me her roommate leaves for a few days after spring break. She invited me to her dorm room.” “Okay?” Louis said slowly. “Am I missing something? Is it about clothes? Because I can totally find something—” Harry scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s not about that.” “Then what?” “I…” Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m a virgin.”

13) The Maddest Obsession | Explicit | 100,974 words

One fears the dark. One rules it. Harry Styles, the dangerous mob enforcer, finds himself entangled with Louis, the strong-willed mafia-princess. As they navigate the treacherous underworld of New York, their forbidden love sparks a deadly game of loyalty, betrayal, and passion. Will their devotion to each other overcome the chaos surrounding them, or will their love be their downfall?

14) At Our Seams | Explicit | 185,290 words

Newly mated and happily engaged Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson, are moving into a new phase of their lives. Together, their world felt complete. However, the world beyond their bubble has been strung into chaos. Political strife is raiding the streets and oppressive policies are being enacted everyday. Louis is desperate for something to change, to finally set the record straight for omegas and non-soulmate children everywhere. Harry is determined to keep his mate safe, even if it goes against Louis’ wishes. Unfortunately, he can’t control everything, and things quickly fall out of his hands. Who’s this new alpha who’s entered the beloved couple’s life, giving Louis another purpose Harry hadn’t been expecting? What happens when the soulmates don’t exactly see eye to eye? Will the protective alpha get his wishes, or will he concede to his cherished but oh, so stubborn omega? How strong are the seams that bind? Only time will tell.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#bottom louis #top harry #larry #larry fics recs #monthly fic recs #blp

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crossfandomslut · 1 day

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At Peace in Your Fire (pt2)

Summary: Y/n goes into the the Cauldron, and ends up in Velaris. A strange place with a sentient house and hopefully some new friends. Y/n much navigate what being fae means for her now.

Pairing: Future Eris x Reader ! Eris is in this chapter y'all! It's not much haha I'm dragging it out !

Word Count: 4,900

Notes: I'm so glad people liked the first chapter and I hope you stick with me to see where this story goes ! I wanted to get to know the reader a bit more, and have interactions with the other characters to add depth to the story and who the reader is so that she's not just some rando haha Please comment your thoughts and opinions, I love hearing what you liked about it so I can try to make each chapter better than the last ! Hugs <3

Find part 1 here

Her life flashed before her eyes as the Cauldron scanned through her every memory, as if in search of an answer, but she didn’t know what the question was. All she felt was cold. As the Cauldron raked through images of their mother and her neglect as Feyre and Y/n did whatever they could to get her attention. Even if she was yelling at them, it was better than being ignored. It took Y/n a long time to realize that Nesta wasn’t ‘lucky’ for having all their mothers’ attention. The cold continued to settle into her bones as she watched her mother get sick and their father fall deep into depression after losing his fortune. Flashes of what she had to do with the baker’s son to feed the family some weeks, of Feyre being taken away by Tamlin, of Nesta looking so hopeless as they searched for their sister, and finally of tonight, being taken from their home in the night, the pain of her sister’s faces and the fear that shot through her as her toes touched the Cauldron’s edge. Deeper and deeper the water soaked through her too thin nightgown, into her skin, and settled in her bones. the water the warm when she first touched it, but as she felt herself drift further toward the bottom, an icy cold took over her senses.

At last, a flicker of warmth ran through her as memories played of watching Feyre, Nesta, and Elain try to fit into the too small bed of the cabin as Y/n curled up right in front of the fireplace, laughing at her sisters bickering for space and urging Nesta to move her cold feet away from them. Eventually, her sisters stopped bickering and they too started laughing. Those were the glowing moments of joy they were able to find in the darkest times. The warmth in her body spread as the next memory played; the four of them dancing around a bonfire in the late Summer, early Autumn. Laughing and dancing like idiots because Y/n was able to convince the baker’s son to sneak her a cake. They hadn’t had a real cake, with icing and candles, in years, but she had seen it through the window and knew she needed to share it with her dearest sisters. The leaves were just starting to change color and the warm fire light casted the already orange and red leaves in the most stunning light.

The last memory that played was the night that Nesta brought home paints for Feyre. In the low light of the evening fire, Y/n begrudgingly gave up her spot directly in front of the flame so that Feyre had the best light to paint in. She painted their tiny dresser drawers with something to symbolize each of them. Nesta had her own dresser, full of the beautiful-and large-dresses their mother used to make her wear. Nesta requested her dresser be painted black. Simple, but a bold sentiment. Y/n’s drawer, of course, was painted with flames. It was a well known fact to everyone who met her that Y/n was drawn to the heat and comfort of fire. Sweet Elain’s drawer was painted in the flowers she loved to tend in the rather pathetic gardens. And for a reason she didn’t understand at the time, Feyre painted her drawer with the night sky. Dazzling stars and a bright moon to look down on her wherever she may be.

Y/n’s chest started to glow at that memory and finally she felt warm again, seeing that dingy old cabin, that fireplace lit, and the lives it made brighter, warmer, safer.

A sudden rush of the Cauldron’s freezing water had Y/n gasping for air that was no where to be found. She wasn’t drowning, but she wasn’t breathing either. She was stuck in this terrible, dark, cold place and feeling like all was lost. So, she spoke into the void, “you may take my body and soul, as long as you promise to watch over my sisters. Keep them safe and happy and whole.”

“Your eldest sister took something from me. Something very dark and very important. You are in no position to make a bargain for her safety.” The voice came as a harsh whisper that sounded like death itself. “I will get back what she took, and more, but I haven’t met a being a very long time who was willing to give. For that, I will reward you. What gift I have bestowed upon you, you must find out for yourself. It will either breathe life into what you love most… or suffocate it.”

With those final words spoken straight into her heart, Y/n felt the world shift as she was dumped from the Cauldron, back onto the ice-cold stone floor, soaking wet. The King of Hybern’s magic lifts just enough for Feyre to rush to her and cling to her like life depended on it.

The following events at Hybern will be scarred into Y/n mind for the rest of her newly immortal life. Lucien's painful screaming that Elain was his mate, the human queen going into the Cauldron and coming out old and decrepit because of what Nesta stole from it, Tamlin demanding that the King break the bond between Feyre and Rhysand, and Feyre saying that Rhys had her under a spell all this time.

If it weren’t for their relationship as twins seeming to strengthen now that they were both Fae, and for Feyre’s daemati powers, Y/n would have freaked the fuck out. Lucky for them all, Feyre explained the whole plan, albeit almost too rapidly for Y/n to understand given what she just went through in the Cauldron. Y/n played along and acted disgusted by Rhys and horrified as he winnowed her away. The cry of her sister's name was not forced or faked.

When they landed in what she could only assume was the Night Court, a beautiful female with eerie silver eyes and black hair came rushing around the corner. “Where is she?”

Rhysand explained everything. Only after calling for his best healers to help Cassian and Azriel. By the time he finished, Mor appeared after hiding Y/n's sisters away somewhere that they could rest and process.

“She is your mate, not your spy. Go. Get. Her.” The one with silver eyes, Amren, demanded.

“She is my mate. And my spy. And she is the High Lady of the Night Court.” Rhysand said softer, but not weakly.

“What?” Mor gasped.

Rhysand explained it all, and finally said, “Your High Lady made a sacrifice for her court, and we will move when the time is right.”

“Until then?” Amren asked sharply.

“Until then,” Rhysand spared each of them a glace, “we go to war.”

Mor showed Y/n to her room, told her to ask the house for whatever she needed, and that she should rest for as long as she needed. And that they were all here for her when she was ready to come out.

The first thing Y/n asked the house for was a fire to be lit. She was ready to get on her knees and beg for the heat of it, but when the house responded immediately, Y/n let out a sob and threw herself on the floor in front of the large hearth. She sat with her legs tucked under her, staring into the dancing flames as tears streamed down her face and choked sobs rocked her body. She stared into the blaze. Fire, she thinks, looks alive but is not. It dances and sways in the phantom wind and dries the tears that had long stopped coming. Y/n wished she could climb straight into the inferno and wrap it around herself to make her bed. For a moment she wonders if her new Fae body would allow such a thing, before she grabs a plush red dyed wool blanket, and a soft enough throw pillow from the couch, and she curls up in front of the glowing heat and sparkling embers. Right where she feels the safest and most at home.

Y/n slept off and on for four days if she’s been keeping track of time correctly. The house delivered food, that at first, she was hesitant to touch, because what does a house know about cooking? But once she got hungry enough to try the steaming soup and heavily buttered bread it delivered for dinner on night two, she ate her words. Literally. The house quickly learned that Y/n preferred black tea and something sweet to eat at breakfast, something light and fresh for lunch, and a hearty dense dinner. The fire had remained lit since the first night, when the house thought it would be okay to let it die out once Y/n fell asleep, and Y/n woke up screaming and shaking, nightmares plaguing her. The fire had not gone out again. Not even a flicker.

Y/n was feeling rested and eager to learn if there were any updates about her twin in the Spring Court. She needed to know if Feyre was okay. When she swung the door of her bedroom open, Rhysand was standing there, smirking, looking like he knew every thought in her head.

“I’ll need to teach you about mental shields.” His smirk grew, “you’re just as bad as Feyre was when she first got here, practically shouting your thoughts. I could probably hear you from the house of wind.”

Y/n blinked at him. Sure, she knew that Feyre’s daemati powers allowed her to speak into people’s minds, but to just openly heard other’s thoughts? How miserable that must be.

Rhysand gaped for a fraction of a second after hearing her thoughts, before his brows furrowed. “You- you’re not angry or afraid about the invasion of privacy?”

“I mean, would I prefer you not listen? Sure, but you just said you’d teach me to block you out, so really, I just feel bad for you both. I never want to know what’s going through other’s heads. That’s their business and it probably gets gross and annoying.”

There’s a silent pause before Rhysand throws his back and laughs, “It does get gross, and annoying,” He straightens again and says, "thank you, Y/n. Not many understand that or think about how it feels for us.”

“So then you probably already know that I was about to come find you and ask about Feyre?”

“Yes. Let’s talk about it once you’ve had a bath and change into clean clothes. Have you been sleeping and living in that for four days?” He eyes her absolutely filthy, no longer white, nightgown that she had been wearing when the Hybern soldiers took her.

“Yes. Yes, I have, Rhysand. But I will take that bath and clean clothes. I smell like the deer I killed the day we first met.” Y/n’s face scrunched at the memory of the stench that she never got used to, even after all those years of hunting with Feyre. “I’d say I would come find you, but you’ll probably know exactly when I’m ready.” She winked and tapped her finger to her temple before turning on her heel back into her room. The house must have been listening, because a hot bath was waiting for her in the bathing chambers. Soaps and oils that smelled like pine and cedar, a crackling fire, and the forest after it rains. Y/n had never smelt anything so lavish. Never smelt anything that captured the feeling of home so thoroughly.

Ridding herself of the disgusting nightgown, Y/n went to dip a toe in the steaming water and stopped. It felt so much like the Cauldron. But Y/n, like always, reminded herself to be adaptable. She was fine. This room was nothing like that place. This place had bright windows that lit up the room. She could see the bottom of the tub, nothing like the dark mirky waters she was forced into. She was fine and she was safe. Y/n prided herself on being able to choke her feelings down. She thought that if she could intellectualize her feelings, they wouldn’t be able to control her. It hadn't come to bite her in the ass yet. She calmed her racing heart, and plunged into the hot water and washed herself clean of the memories using the soaps that smelled like home. Those smells soothed her soul like a balm and she started to feel like herself again.

After taking her merry time in the tub, the house keeping the water hot as long as she needed it, Y/n stood and grabbed a towel from the vanity in the corner of the room. Y/n hadn’t looked at herself in the mirror yet, but figured now was as good of a time as any. She sat on the round cushioned stool and slowly lifted her head. She tilted her head back and forth, examining the subtle changes that suddenly made her Fae. She tucked her hair behind her ears to reveal the exaggerated, but soft, pointed ears. Smiled at herself to get a look at the elongated canines, and noticed how bright and sharp her eyes looked. She didn’t have her twin’s steely blue eyes, her father said she had his mother’s eyes. Y/n looked into her own y/e/c eyes and just blinked a few times. She was most definitely Fae now. And she would adapt.

Getting dressed quickly, Y/n stepped into the hall to find Rhysand, already waiting for her. He examined her loose, flowy brown pants, and the soft grey seater she chose. “No Night Court black?”

She tripped over her own foot at the words, “oh- oh no, I’m sorry, I’ve offended you. I’ll go change-!

“No! No, Y/n stop,” he gently griped her arm to prevent her from running back in her room. “It didn’t even occur to me that you might feel comfortable in something else. I’m the one who’s sorry.” He tilts his head, so their eyes meet.

“I just feel better in colors that remind me of the woods we grew up in. It makes me feel like myself in their new, strange body and this new world we’ve been brought into. I did not have any intention of disrespecting you or your home, Rhysand.”

“Please, Y/n, call me Rhys. We are family now, right? Humans would call us, ‘in-laws’?” His smile grew as Y/n’s lips twitched into their own smile, his hand dropping from her arm.

“Of course, Rhys. I’m glad to know my sister has found someone who loves her so well. I look forward to getting to know you as we work to bring Feyre home.”

“Yes, let’s get to work on that. Follow me.” Rhys guides her down the hall and through the foyer into a large seating area. Mor, Cassian, Azriel and Amren are all speaking lowly. Rhys clears his throat as he and Y/n enter the room, and all eyes fall on Y/n. More is the first to stand up and wrap her in a tight embrace. Y/n is shocked for a brief moment, before wrapping her arms around Mor in return.

Mor pulls back with tears in her eyes to say, “we love your sister so much. We are honored to have you in our family too. We will get her back.” Y/n smiles at her fondly and Mor turns to sit back down next to Cassian. Cassian and Azriel both smile and wave at her, just like they did the first time they met in the human lands. Amren and Y/n exchange nods, and Y/n predicts that is the most emotion she’ll ever see from the female.

Rhys is the first to speak next. “Let’s get started shall we?” He took a seat in the remaining armchair, and Y/n took up a spot on the floor, directly in front of the fireplace. Her favorite place to be. “Y/n, you don’t have to sit on the floor. We can ask the house to provide another chair.”

“I’m perfectly content right here, but thank you, Rhys,” Y/n went as far as to shuffle further back toward the heat.

Azriel’s usually calculated expression fell as he stared at her in total confusion. Never had he seen someone look like they wanted to be consumed by flames. He couldn’t even comprehend it. He schooled his features when he felt Cassian pop him in the ribs with his elbow and clear this throat.

“As you wish. Azriel, I know you’re still recovering, and I do not want you to push it, but have your shadows told you anything?”

“Not much. Feyre is still hardly allowed to leave the house, Lucien is still warry of her, and Tamlin is none the wiser. She isn’t eating enough.” He says the last part so quietly and with so much anger, a shiver runs down Y/n spine. She decides to never get on Azriel’s bad side.

“Have you heard from her? Can’t you two talk through your minds or something?” Cassian asks.

“Not much. We don’t want Tamlin, or Lucien for that matter, to get suspicious. But when we do speak, she sounds so far away and it’s an effort to keep the line open. Something isn’t right, but I don’t know what it is. When she was in Spring before it wasn’t this hard. It has to be Hybern’s presence there.”

“So all we can do is sit around and wait for more information?” Mor asks incredulously.

“I wish it could say otherwise, but for now, yes. Azriel and Cassian, you need to heal and get back to training, so we’re prepared when something changes and we have to move.” They call nod their agreement and accept that it’s all they can do right now.

“I want to train too.” Y/n’s voice startles them, as if they forgot she was there.

“Of course, we’ll work on your mental shields and-“

“No- I’m sorry- I don’t mean to interrupt. I mean, yes, I do want to train with you to build my mental shield, but I also want to train with Cassian and Azriel. I want to feel strong. I want to be strong. I never want what happened in Hybern to happen again. I never want to feel helpless like that and I want to help my sister.” Y/n was firm and confident when she locked eyes with Rhys, even as tears welled in her waterline.

“Okay. Whatever you need, we’ll do it.” Rhys looked at her like he could see right through her. To the scared little girl who lost her mother, who had to learn to hunt and steal and sell her body for godsdamned bread. She had never felt so vulnerable, and she quickly broke the stare.

“Are you okay with that?” Y/n asked Cassian and Azriel.

“Yes.” “Of course.” They replies in unison.

“Thank you.”

The day turned into evening and the group is still sitting around the tiny coffee table in that grand living room. Just relaxing in each other’s presence and sharing stories with Y/n, learning more about her. “Everyone thinks that the fire painted on the drawer was for Nesta because she is so fierce, but it’s not true,” Y/n chuckles fondly as she thinks of her sharp tongued eldest sister. “I have always been drawn to the flames. Even as a baby, my parents had to keep candles far away from me.” That gets a laugh from everyone in the room. Even Amren lets out a short breath that could be considered a laugh.

“So which one was Nesta’s? Don’t tell me it was the flowers,” Cassian asked. You could tell he was attached to her, even though they had only a few brief interactions and Nesta was far less than pleasant.

“Nesta had her own full wardrobe, painted black and full of dresses our mother stuffed her into when she gave her those awful etiquette lessons.” Y/n shuddered at the memory. And then paused, just now realizing that she had no idea where her sisters were. Her heart started racing and her eyes shot to Rhys’s, knowing he had already heard every thought.

“They’re safe. They aren’t adapting as well as you are, but they’re safe and they’re okay. I promise you; I will not let anything happen to them.” Y/n laughed internally as that word. Adapting. It’s what she was best at she supposed.

Weeks had passed and Y/n had been dedicated to training with Cassian and Azriel at least once every day, sometimes twice if her energy is pent up enough. And she has a lesson with Rhys everyday too. She’s learning to read, and her mental shield is solid. Her body had never felt so strong. It was a real hit to her ego though to learn that she had been carrying her body weight wrong and lifting deer over her shoulders incorrectly her whole life. Training with Azriel was calmer than training with Cassian. Azriel moved with so much grace and control and was making you learn all the movements and balance exercises. Cassian was intense. Teaching you how to move swiftly to block and avoid kicks and punches. The fact that was going easy on you was an even bigger hit to your ego.

On this particular day, Y/n trained with Azriel in the morning, noticing how much more balanced her body felt, could isolate muscles and utilize them. After lunch was her lesson with Rhys. She’s able to push him out of her mind now, still with some effort, but she doesn’t break out in a sweat now. She spent the afternoon resting and reading when Cassian stormed into the library and asked if she wanted to train. That brought them to the training area on the townhouse. Cassian complains that it isn’t as big as the one at the house of wind, but it did the job. Cassian had just gotten back from visiting the house of wind and he was angry. He was throwing punches and seeming to forget who he was sparring with. He was moving too fast and punching too hard, but Y/n couldn’t seem to get the words out to tell him to stop. He advanced forward and as she backed up, she stumbled, allowing Cassian to land a punch straight to her jaw. Her head rattled but before she could even register the pain, she yelled, teeth bared and fists clenched to her side, “ENOUGH CASSIAN!”

The world stopped, and after two, three, four heartbeats she realized Cassian wasn’t breathing. He was staring at her as his eyes went wide and he grabbed his throat. He crashed to his knees and reached for her hands. Releasing her tight grip on her own fists, air rushed back into Cassian’s lung. He gasped for breath as Y/n fell to her knees too and let out a sob. “I am so sorry Cassian. I am so so sorry; I don’t know what happened. I’m so sorry.” She somehow managed to get the words out between sobs and gasping for air.

“Y/n, Y/n it’s okay! I’m the one who’s sorry. I can’t believe I hit you, I am so sorry Y/n. Please, look at me, I need you to breathe. I’m okay. I’m sorry.” He held her and rocked her back and forth until her heartbeat slowed to a normal pace and she could lift her head to look at him. “Shit. Rhys is going to kill me when he sees that bruise on your face. Mor might beat him to it though. I’m so sorry.”

Y/n stands up and walks to the bathing room down the hall. Cassian ran to her when he heard her start…laughing? The picture in front of him as he skidded around the corner was one he could never have predicted. Y/n was clutching her stomach, leaning over the sink and laughing hysterically at her reflection. Cassian had punched her so hard that the bruising started at her jaw and gave her a black eye. Cassian was horrified, but Y/n just kept laughing, so eventually, he did too. Mor, Rhys, and Azriel came running around the corner too, wondering what the commotion was about. When they saw Y/n face, a collective, “what the fuck Cass?” Was sounded by the other three Fae. This made Y/n and Cassian double down and laugh even harder.

When they caught their breath again, Cassian stood up proudly, patted Y/n on the back and said, “I helped Y/n discover her powers today. No big deal,” he said with no small amount of smugness.

“You mean you needed a punching bag and I had to defend myself?” Y/n quirked a brow at him.

“Semantics!” He argued.

“Wait wait wait, Y/n has powers?” Rhys’s eyes went hazy as he mentally called for Amren. “Tell me everything.”

Y/n recounted the events of their fight and how she literally took his breath away. She didn’t know she was controlling any magic; she hadn’t felt it rise up, but it must have subconsciously come to her defense.

“You’re going to have to drop down to one lesson with Cass and Az a day and pick up an extra with me and Amren. We need to learn more about this power. Power gifted by the Cauldron itself is new territory for all of us. We don’t know what the boundaries of your power are.” The sudden seriousness in Rhys’s face felt sobering as Y/n and Cassian were pulled out of their laughter and back into the reality of who and what Y/n was. Cauldron made.

Another few weeks passed of training non-stop. The magic was a lot harder for Y/n to figure out than the fighting. As of today, she can suck the air out of a room that’s about 12ft by 12ft and hold it for five minutes before faltering, and she can send a blast of air and knock Cassian over from 30ft away. Cassian was used as the dummy for both tests as an apology for decking her in the face.

Y/n was in the middle of her reading lesson for the day when Azriel came crashing into the room. “We found her. Feyre got out of Spring; we have to get her. We need your help and your magic.”

She was up in an instant. She didn’t care that she wasn’t in fighting leathers, she just needed to get to her sister. Before she had a chance to ask any questions, Azriel grabbed her and jumped from the balcony. Y/n hadn’t flown before. Never wanted to be a burden to the Illyrians. But wow, what an experience. Azriel quickly caught up to Cassian and the three of them flew swiftly and precisely.

“Where are we going?” Y/n noticed the moment they left Velaris and the landscape changed to an icy tundra. She missed the heat and comfort of her spot in front of the fireplace in the library already.

“The Winter Court. I’m sorry there wasn’t time to get you in warmer clothes. I know you have a hard time with the cold. I should have prepared you.” Azriel felt terrible, but Feyre needed them. Y/n would adapt.

“It’s okay, Az. Feyre is more important. I’m okay,” and she meant it.

The touchdown was quick. Not a lot of time to slow down and land gently. The Illyrians landed and shook the ground. Azriel was softer about letting Y/n down. Before her was quite possibly her worst nightmare unfolding. Her twin sister, her favorite person in the entire world, was being restrained by the thing that brought her the most peace. A strange male was standing above her sister, using his gift of fire to hold her at her wrists and her neck. Y/n was frozen in place. Her mind went blank as her body was slammed with fear and disgust at the gross misuse of the flames licking at her sister’s throat. It felt like a violation to her very core. Her very soul was raging at the sight. Not only for her sister being in danger, but because of the way the male was using the thing Y/n held closest to her heart and found the most precious, as a weapon to do harm.

“Y/n! Y/n!” She was thrust back into reality by Cassian’s large hands shaking her back to consciousness. She blinked at him a few times before looking over his shoulder to see Azriel already taking down the other red-headed males and saving another. Lucien. Lucien was on Feyre’s side? Blinking again and trying to remain present, she and Cassian turned to the male holding Feyre. “Now, Y/n.”

With those two words form Cassian, Y/n approached the male, and he had the audacity to laugh at her. Granted, she was still in her house slippers, baggy linen pants and oversized sweater, so she wasn’t looking her most intimidating. But he quickly stopped laughing as Y/n lifted her hands above her head, closed her fists, and threw her hands down to her side. It didn’t take long for the male to realize that he could no longer take a breath. So focused on clawing at his throat, he didn’t notice that his flames had no oxygen to restrain his hostage either. Cassian, being well versed in her magic, ran into the void she’d created, grabbed Feyre, who unfortunately also couldn’t breathe, and got her out of your field of magic. Azriel was there with Lucien in a second, Mor winnowing in to grab Y/n, Cassian, and Feyre.

They landed in the townhouse seconds later, Azriel and Lucien not far behind. Y/n was in her sister’s arms before anyone could blink. They held each other tightly, but Feyre looked over Y/n shoulder to Mor.

“He’s on his way. He’s far away, but he is rushing home to you as fast as he can. He felt the bond and sent us ahead to get you.” Mor was crying too, and Y/n turned to wave her into their hug. Right now, her sister was home and everything else could wait for tomorrow. Even if Y/n couldn't stop thinking about that red haired male on the frozen lake today. the way he laughed at her and made her feel small, and she sucked the air from his lungs like it was nothing. She thought it would have made her feel good. but it didn't, and she wasn't sure why. She would fall asleep picturing his fearful face for many nights.

Taglist: @abysshaven @minaethrym @ivy-34 @stained-glass-eyes0708

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #autumn court #eris acotar #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra #eris x y/n #eris x reader

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 3 days

Note

Eeeeee! Congratulations! You deserve every single one! 🖤

Could I pretty please request:

Am I supposed to be scared now? In a Mafia AU. Vibes and item I'll leave up to your enormous, genius brain.

🖤🖤🖤

Thank you so much, Sam! 💖✨️ Hope you enjoy!

Worth the risk

Rated: E

Words: 992

Tags: Mafia AU; Hitman Eddie Munson; Dark Eddie Munson; Mob boss Richard Harrington; Secret relationship; intrigue; Referenced character death (RIP Tommy); Blood and violence; Knife play; Blood play; Groping; Dry humping

Notes: Previous part | Part 1

Nobody says anything as they make their way out of the Harrington villa, but by some unspoken agreement, they don't part ways yet. They linger in the driveway by the cars.

Eddie knows better than to speak first. Instead, he lights a cigarette and lets the silence drag on, pretending to be brooding over the night’s events. He knows that somebody is bound to say something sooner rather than later.

It’s Jeff who does, in the end.

“Harrington’s losing it.”

Gareth jumps and casts anxious glances all around himself, like he’s expecting to find the boss lurking somewhere in the shadows, while Frank shushes Jeff with a hectic gesture.

“Shut up, are you insane?”

Jeff shrugs petulantly, but he does lower his voice. “I'm just saying what everyone is thinking. That thing with Hagan? That was completely fucking bonkers, sending him to make that deal with the Carvers all alone. It’s almost like he wanted him to end up with a bullet through his head.”

“Maybe he did,” Gareth says. “Rumor has it Hagan’s been making eyes at the son.”

Eddie nods along solemnly with the rest of them.

“All I’m saying is, it’s bad news,” Jeff mumbles. “He believes he’s invincible, that he can get away with anything. It’s dangerous for a man in his position to think like that.”

“Then maybe he shouldn’t be.” Eddie lets the words linger, waiting until every single face is turned to him. “Be in that position, I mean.”

Frank scoffs. “Yeah, right. Who’d even wanna do it instead? Junior seems much more interested in lounging by the pool and taking it up the-”

“Nah,” Eddie is quick to deflect. “We’d need someone capable. Somebody younger, who knows how things work on the street.”

“Someone like you?”

“I wouldn’t know about that, Gare,” Eddie lies. “Just putting in my two cents on the matter.”

Behind the garden wall, a light flickers alive, then dies again, quick as a heartbeat. Eddie grinds his cigarette under the heel of his boot.

“Shit, just remembered I forgot something. Don’t wait for me, guys.”

He feels their gazes on his neck as he walks back towards the house and doesn't bother hiding his grin.

The hydrangeas are long past their bloom, decaying flower petals rustling under his feet. He doesn't lament their death, not when he knows that the seeds of something else are slowly taking root.

The underwater lights of the pool bask the garden in an eerie glow, but he makes his way to the pool house unbothered. He has hardly ducked inside when a key clicks in the lock behind him.

Eddie’s body moves on instinct and muscle memory. The key clatters off somewhere in the darkness, and when the crimson veil lifts from his eyes, he has a warm body pressed against the wall, the edge of his knife licking at a shivering throat. A throat covered in the fading marks of his own teeth.

“Damn, Stevie,” he hisses, retracting the blade and sliding it back into its holster. It leaves the faintest of cuts, tiny droplets of blood gathering against tan skin like dark beads. “Are you out of your mind? You can't just sneak up on people like that.”

Steve scowls at him, face full of haughty disdain. He's beautiful in the glow of the pool seeping in from outside. He's always beautiful, of course, but something about the pale blue light rippling off his skin makes him look ethereal and downright unreal. Like an ancient deity, like a marble statue come alive.

“Excuse me?” he whispers, wriggling in Eddie’s hold. “What was I supposed to do? Nobody tells me shit, and then I overhear my dad talking on the phone about how one of his guys was killed. I just wanted-”

“Aw,” Eddie coos. He leans into Steve’s space, scraping a toothy grin against the hollow of that pretty throat. His lips come away tasting like copper, leaving a bloody trail on Steve's skin. “Are you worried about me, honey? Why, I'm honored.”

Steve pushes his head away with one palm against his cheek, but makes no further attempt at twisting out of his grip.

“This isn't a fucking joke, Eddie. If my dad finds out about this, you'll be next in line for a bullet through the- Will you stop this?”

Eddie lets Steve's thumb slide out of his mouth with an obscene, wet sound, nipping at the tender skin at its base as he goes.

“Am I supposed to be scared now?” he drawls. “I'm not an idiot, I can look after myself.”

“I know you can,” Steve confesses, tracing Eddie’s cheekbone with his thumb. It's still wet with his own spit, and the touch leaves a thin trail of moisture, cool in the stuffy air of the pool house. “But sometimes, I don't think you understand how dangerous this is.”

“Believe me, darling, I’m well aware of the danger.” Eddie trails a hand over Steve’s throat, down his chest. The motion makes a drop of blood run from his neck into the collar of his shirt. He watches how it blooms on the white fabric, pretty like a flower, as he slips his hand between Steve's legs. “Good thing we both like it a little, dangerous, right?”

He gives the bulge in Steve’s pants a firm squeeze, and as always, the boy responds like the beautiful, needy little dream that he is. He rolls his hips, grinding himself into the touch, and wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck to slot their bodies closer together. Eddie bites down on that perfect, pink bottom lip and laughs against it when Steve moans.

“Woah, honey! What happened to being careful?”

“What's life without a little risk?” Steve smiles, looking at him from under his long lashes. “And besides, you made me drop the key, so one of us will end up on his knees anyhow.”

Eddie finds he can't argue with that.

More celebration ficlets

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #hype's 1k follower ficlets #kiss that ring #Mafia AU

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moonlightazriel · 3 days

Text

Chapter 18: Never forget you /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Y/N attend one last event before she returns to her home permanently.

Word Count: 3,6K

Warnings: SMUT and angst...

Notes: This chapter was hard to write heheeh and in my head they're dancing to Por Una Cabeza at that scene hahahaha

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Y/N sighed, her hand high in the air, unsure if she should knock on his door or not. It was almost a week since they defeated Mantyx, Azriel’s injuries took longer to heal this time, and despite wanting to see him the second they departed, she gave space for him and his family.

She wanted to see him, feeding on the crumbles of information that Nesta gave her everyday. The oldest Archeron, alongside Elain, tried to convince her to go see him sooner, but she didn’t want to bother, and some alone time was what she needed after opening her heart like that for him.

50 years had passed since she allowed a male to have a hold of her heart and now she was scared, she had given it to him without even noticing, she was his but they couldn’t stay together, would life always be so unfair to her? She had to go back and keep Asterin’s legacy, she would do her duty.

“He’s been asking for you every day.” A voice startled her and she turned to see Cassian leaning on the wall behind her, his eyes scanning her up and down. “Why’d you never come?”

“He needed time to heal.” She shyly replied, like she had been caught doing something she shouldn't.

“He needed you.” Cassian simply said and she felt her heart squeeze in her chest, guilty spreading like poison and making her guts twist. “Don’t make him wait any longer.” He tipped his chin in the direction of the door and she nodded, raising her hand and knocking three times.

At the sound of Azriel’s raspy voice allowing her in, she stepped inside, being greeted by a wave of his shadows eagerly assessing her, travelling up and down her body, leaving goosebumps in their trace. She giggled at the feeling, her eyes meeting him as she did it.

“I thought you had left without saying goodbye.” He joked but she could see the pain reflected in his hazel orbs.

“I’m sorry, I thought you needed space.” Azriel patted the empty spot by his side and she quickly sat, basking in the smell of him that filled her senses, warmth irradiated from his body and she almost melted in it, she had missed him.

“From their constant worry and not even letting me lift a fork, maybe. But never from you.” His scarred hand slides over the soft fabric of the blankets that covered him, finding their resting spot on top of hers.

“I didn’t realise you wanted me here.” She admitted and Azriel laughed a little.

“After you just told me you loved me? There’s no other place that I would rather be than by your side.” She felt the blood heating her cheeks and Azriel marvelled at the sight of her odd blush, blue suited her so well. “Did you really mean it?”

He had to ask, he had to know. Despite understanding that she needed time to face her feelings towards him, an insecure part of him wondered if he had imagined it, if she wasn’t saying out of pity, he had sunken in those thoughts everyday, but seeing her right now, made all of his worries vanish.

“Of course I mean it.” She spoke so quickly, like thinking otherwise was such an outrageous thought. “You have my heart.”

“Then I'll gladly keep it.” He said and pulled her to lean on his chest, she rested her head above his heart, hearing the soft beats of it, trying to focus on anything else other than the sound of her heart breaking even further.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

After visiting him for the first time, she couldn't find it in herself to be away from him. As he got better, they strolled through the gardens, sparred in the training ring in the House of Wind and sat together by the Rainbow.

But as much as she wanted to stay in his arms forever, there was a gnawing feeling in her gut, telling her that she was failing and that she didn't belong there. That he would eventually get sick of her and she would be alone again, those thoughts coming late at night when she couldn't sleep, her eyes scanning his soft features, trying to commit everything to memory while she still could.

Every night she would pretend to be asleep, trying to keep her frantic thoughts calm, but to no avail. As Nesta had mastered the art of opening the gate in Ramiel, the day of her departure was getting closer, making her uneasy.

There was still one more thing that she needed to do before going back, and that was to attend the coronation of Eris. As soon as the Vanserras went back to their court, Eris finally gathered the courage to challenge his father, the old fae had lost everything to his son, and was exiled to Mother knows where, so he could never harm anyone again.

The invite included the whole inner circle of Rhysand, and Lucien made it extra clear that he wanted her there, and Y/N couldn't say no to him, she could never say no to him. So a day after the celebrations, they would all gather one last time, to say their goodbyes to her.

She didn't know if she would ever find a way back, the thought of leaving everything behind was something she tried not thinking about often, cuz it hurt her deeply. Never seeing Azriel again, not being able to join the Valkyries in training, not learning from Elain as she had promised she would. All of those things chirped away bits of her heart, and she would never recover them. She would miss this place.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The winds of the Autumn Court carried a soft smell of leaves and maple. The soft hustling of the trees mixed with the melody the band was playing made the whole atmosphere feel warm and magical.

The guests dressed in orange and earthy tones, she wore a terracotta dress, with a tight corset and a flowy tulle skirt. Her hair was pinned away from her face with silver accessories in the shape of leaves and little makeup painted her face.

Y/N gripped Azriel's arm tighter as a cold breeze made her shiver, his hazel eyes turning towards her to check if she was okay, she gave him a big smile, one he would guard in his heart forever, she looked beautiful like that, with the faelights making her skin glow.

Something in his chest sparked with life when he saw her approaching him back at the Night Court as they got ready to leave. Since he woke up after the battle against Mantyx, it was like something was missing from his mind, blurry moments where he couldn't remember for sure what had happened and he was still trying to get those memories back.

They sat beside Nesta and Cassian, Rhys and Feyre were among the other High Lords and Elain sat with Lucien in the part reserved for family only. A priest had introduced Eris, the male walking in the corridor towards his throne. He knelt in front of the priest, professing his vows of putting the people first and being the best High Lord he could for his Court.

The guests stood and bowed their heads towards the male as the crown rested atop his head and he sat on his throne, a proud smile gracing his features as he thanked everyone for coming and gave them a speech.

Eris crossed the corridor again, each row of guests followed him outside where a feast was waiting for them. Around the whole Court, similar feasts were being held so everyone could celebrate the coronation as one.

“Who would've thought that the Autumn Court could be so nice?” Nesta spoke, sipping on her champagne.

“With that fucker away to the confines of hell, it's certainly a decent place now.” Cassian replied, lifting his glass in a toast. “To never having to deal with Beron again.”

The four of them raised their glasses and giggled as it touched, the glasses clinking together. Food started to be served and they started to eat.

“Do you think we can dance after?” Azriel shyly asked and Y/N turned to him, those beautiful eyes looking at him with curiosity.

“Yeah, of course.” She replied and saw how he blushed.

“After I saw you with Lucien at the Hewn City, I knew I had to learn how to dance with you.” He told her and winked towards Nesta who had a grin on her face as she silently watched their exchange.

“You learned how to dance for me?” She breathed out and Azriel nodded.

She didn't even give him time to think, dropping her fork and removing the napkin from her lap, she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the dancefloor.

His hand circled her waist and the other grabbed hers, and as a more slow, passionate rhythm started to play, they danced along with it. The violin guided their movements, their eyes never leaving each other as they moved around. Their feet slid along the floor as Azriel spun her around. It was like the rest of the party didn't exist and they were the only two in the world.

For someone as tall and strong as Azriel, his movements were like a river, and he moved graciously around, Nesta certainly had done a very great job in teaching him. The other couple soon joined them as Nesta couldn't hold herself back any longer, the only two couples on the dancefloor as the other guests watched.

His grip on her was firm as he guided them. The four of them doing their moves, Nesta's and Y/N’s skirts brushing as the females spun really close but never touching, not ruining the other's dance. The song came to an end, and Azriel was panting as he leaned over her arched form, like a bow ready to snap. Her scent filled his nose and messed with his head.

His nose slowly slid along her exposed neck and she shivered at the touch. It took everything in him to remember they weren't alone as he helped her to her feet and the guests applauded them, some getting up to join the dance as a new song started.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

She took a deep breath, holding her hair in a bun atop her head, her back against the railing as she eyed the stars.

“Do you really have to leave?” Lucien asked as he sipped from a cup of whiskey. The two had sneaked out while Elain danced with Azriel and Nesta.

She looked down on the balcony, those tiny figures dancing in the distance. And she turned back to her friend and the concerned filling his gaze.

“I have to…” Lucien nodded his head in understanding.

“I will miss you.” The male said, pulling her towards him for a tight hug. She wrapped him in her arms, feeling the tears clouding her vision as she felt his warmth, his golden heart thrumming against her chest.

“You have no idea how I'm glad we met, I'll miss you too, Luci.” The male smiled at the nickname.

“Me too, witchling, me too.” The balcony door opened and a smiling Elain entered followed by Azriel. Her hands smoothed over the fabric of her dress and she looked at Y/N, her kind brown eyes filled with sadness.

“We'll leave you two alone.” She said, grabbing Lucien by the arm and dragging the male with her.

“Are you feeling better?” Azriel asked and she nodded.

“I just needed some fresh air.” The male nodded, joining her against the stones that formed the balcony. “You put up quite a show down there.” She smiled at him.

“Did you enjoy my dancing skills?” He leaned towards her, his hands caging her hips against the balcony.

“Very much.” Her breath got caught in her throat as his lips started to kiss the skin of her neck, sucking and biting gently.

“How much?” He asked against her neck and she shivered.

“To the point that all I could think was riding you right in the middle of the dancefloor.” Azriel grinned with that and stood again to look at her.

“Then hold on tight.” He warned and she held the collar of his attire, the Shadowsinger just told Rhys that they would leave and winnowed them back to his room in the House of Wind.

Her mouth was on his in a second, exploring hungrily as her hands roamed around, removing the coat and bursting the buttons out of their confinement to expose his chest to her.

His shadows went to work, unlacing the corset that held her dress in place, eagerly working to strip her out of it as quickly as they could. Their tongues clashed against each other, making it hard to breathe as they fought for dominance.

Her iron claws sliding up and down his abs, making him twitch with anticipation. As soon as her dress pooled at her feet, she stepped out of it. Her kisses trailing down to his neck and down his body, until she was kneeling at eye level with his crotch, her hands working to remove his belt and pants.

Azriel shivered as he stood, her velvety mouth wrapped around his cock as it spring free from his breeches. He closed his eyes as he felt her taking him inch by inch, until she couldn't fit it anymore. Bobbing her head and cupping his balls, making him groan as pleasure builded up on his body.

She licked the vein on the side, her tongue playing with the slip of his tip as she masturbated the rest with her hand. Drool leaked from the corners of her mouth as she took him again, fastening her movements until Azriel was a moaning mess, his hand clutched tightly to her scalp, guiding her movements until his cock twitched, hot jets of cum down her throat, she licked him clean, releasing it with a loud pop.

Azriel cupped her cheek, as she batted her lashes at him. He helped her up again, pulling her in for a kiss, feeling his taste on her tongue. He wanted to taste her so bad, but she pushed him to the bed. She removed her pants, her glorious breasts already exposed as she wore no bra underneath the dress. And as she sank down on him, taking him in her warm cunt, Azriel swore he had reached paradise.

He sat as she rode him, his mouth attached to her breasts, switching from one to the other as he sucked and played with her hard nipples. Her arms caged him against her as she threw her head back in pleasure, feeling her orgasm building in her belly.

She rolled her hips, angling her body so he would hit deeper inside her. Her lips were open and she moaned loudly, feeling Azriel hit her g spot every damn time, she was so stuffed of his cock that she could die there and she would do it happily.

“I love you.” She said in between heavy breaths, Azriel looked at her, his heart beating fast in his chest..

“Say it again.” He demanded and she more than happily obligated.

“I love you, Azriel.” The male lost his composure.

He pushed his thumb into her mouth and she wrapped her tongue around it, wetting it for him. Azriel slid a hand in between them, finding her bundle of nerves on the apex of her thighs, rubbing circles until she couldn't hold any longer, her movements becoming sloppy as she came with a loud cry of his name.

Azriel held her fragile body, snapping his hips up until he was spilling inside her, his hot cum dripping from her cunt and on his thighs, making her pant and wince as her sensitive walls tried to go back to normal.

That night, they loved each other until the sun rose, lost In each other's body until they couldn't even lift a finger, tiredness weighing their bodies down as they laid to finally sleep.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

It was midday when they woke up, getting lost in each other again as they showered. Azriel silently helped her into her leathers, strapping her cloak and her sword for her as she adjusted her hair in a braid.

The whole family waited for them, and as they sat to have a meal together, she could feel the sadness lingering around, she didn't want to leave but she had to, and by the looks of it, none of them wanted her to go back to. If things weren't so complicated.

Azriel didn't say a thing as he sat behind her on Meraxes, the wyvern silently flying towards Ramiel where the rest of them would winnow. She watched Velaris, the beautiful city getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared from her sight. She would miss it so much.

Meraxes landed on the side of the mountain, his claws digging on the stone like they did on their first time at the House of Wind, that felt like a distant memory now.

“I hate having to do it.” Nesta said as they approached. She held the wyrd keys in between trembling fingers, she didn't want to see her friend leave but no one would force her to stay.

“It's what she decided, Nes.” Feyre said.

“As the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court we thank you for helping us to get rid of a great threat for us. Your name will never be forgotten. As your friends, we will miss you.” Rhysand said, pulling her for a hug, being joined by Feyre.

“You're strong and you have a great heart, never forget that.” Feyre whispered in her ear and she felt the tears getting harder to contain.

“We're going to miss you in training.” Gwyn said and Emerie embraced the two females.

“Thank you for sharing what you knew with us, you would be a great Valkyrie.” The Illyrian female said and Y/N hugged them tightly.

“It's going to be weird not buying him sheeps every day. Be safe out there.” Cassian said, pulling her for a hug as well. Tears now streamed freely on her face.

“I never got the chance to teach you how to garden.” Elain said sadly, wiping her tears from her brown eyes. “Thank you for putting some sense in me, I couldn't be happier and with the right person.”

“Take care of him, Elain.” She held the middle Archeron sister's hand.

“I promise.” The female said, and as in true Night Court style, the two felt their skin prick and Y/N looked at Elain's arm, where a fox carrying a rose in its mouth appeared, a matching one on herself, sealing their promise.

“You still can stay with us, I'm sure Jurian and Vassa don't mind.” Lucien said, holding her so tight that she couldn't breath.

“Tell them that I'll miss them too. Be happy Lucien, don't let anyone take anything from you ever again.” Lucien nodded.

“Never.” She smiled at him and he kissed her forehead.

Nesta inserted the key into the slit, energising the gate with her power. A light appeared, like a beacon in the darkness. She had shown them what Erilea looked like, so Nesta kept that in mind and as Y/N looked up, she could see a bright sunny day on the other side.

“If you ever need us, I will get you back.” Nesta said, pulling her for one last hug, she hated this, she wished they could have convinced her to stay.

“Thank you Nes, you're a true friend.” She wiped the female's tears and Nesta laughed in between her cry. She loved Y/N.

The female lastly approached a quiet Azriel, he dreaded this moment but he would never do anything to make her unhappy, so he pulled her for a hug. Cupping her face in between his hands, he would never forget her. His shadows caressed her cheek and she giggled.

“I love you, thank you for loving me too.” She said and he leaned his forehead against hers, kissing her passionately before he let her go.

“Even though this was all the time we had, I'm glad we had it at all. I love you, Y/N Blackbeak, and I always will.” And then she knew, she could never love anyone ever again because her heart would be here, with him, as long as she lived.

He watched her climb Meraxes, flying towards the gap in the world. His head started to pound as the memories from that day with Mantyx filled his head, the missing pieces from the puzzle he was trying to complete. Clear as the day on the other side, he remembered.

Mantyx said he would break the bond, the bond that tied the two together for the rest of their lives, and it was in pure agony that Azriel watched his mate disappear in that gate, his knees collapsing on the floor as he sobbed.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

As Y/N fell through the worlds, once again landing upside down, she groaned, feeling her empty chest and that bond alongside her soul. She looked around, for some reason she was sent to Terrasen, Orynth glowing in the distance.

And as she took in the sight of that familiar place, breathed the air of her own world, she wished that Azriel had been selfish enough to beg her to stay.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

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@willowpains @quinzzelx @amysangel @fightmedraco @puttyly

@lees-chaotic-brain @thisblogisaboutabook @esposadomd @stained-glass-eyes0708 @brujitafantomatico

@a-cup-of-nightshade @faridathefairy @bubybubsters @krowiathemythologynerd @joey-hoey

@acourtofdreamsandshadows @mendes-bae

#azriel #shadowsinger #azriel x reader #night court #azriel x y/n #velaris #moonlightazriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #sarahjmaas #azriel acotar #azriel x oc #worlds apart fic

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skellyflowers · 3 days

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Longing: To Meet You

I'm more nervous now than I ever thought I would be. I'm more nervous than when I was claimed. I was more nervous in my first ritual. Vessel had talked about the Espera, but I wasn’t sure if I would ever meet them.

I would imagine that if there were any other people connected to Sleep I would have met them after I was claimed. However I was claimed three months ago why am I hearing about them now?

Vessel led me down a hallway I had never seen that was hidden behind a door that I don't remember ever seeing before now. I thought I had explored the manor from the roof to the basement. Vessel had been quiet, and I couldn't stand it.

“Vessel, how long has this hallway been here?” I ask.

“It is always here. But that doesn't mean we always have access to it.” He answered. “We need permission to enter.”

“Who is on the other side of this hallway?” I ask. He is making me nervous.

“The Espera. They were here before us.” He looks over his shoulder at me. “You don’t need to be nervous.”

“Too late.”

When we reach the end of the hall there is a huge ornate door. Vessel knocks twice and the door opens on its own. Inside the door is what looks like a garden greenhouse. Or that used to be a greenhouse. The glass ceiling opened up to an absolutely beautiful night sky full of stars and planets. There are rows of bookshelves and a pond with a fountain. I think I see another door but I don’t have time to look when three figures approach me and Vessel.

Once they get close I realize that they are three women. They each are wearing hoods and masks so I can only see their lips. Vessel grabs my hand and pulls me to stand next to him. I feel bad that he just grabbed my sweaty hand.

“So you are the new vessel of our Goddess Sleep.” Said the woman on my left.

“Her newest child.” Said the woman in the center.

“Welcome.” Said the woman on my right.

“Yes, may I present our fifth.” Said Vessel.

“Hello.” I said quietly.

“You may leave us Vessel.” Said the woman on my right.

Vessel nodded his head and squeezed my hand before turning to leave. I turned to watch him walk out. When I turn back the women still stand before me silently. I heard the door close behind me and the energy in the room changed.

“Well now that he’s gone.” Said the woman in the center.

Then, in unison, all three of the women took their hoods and masks off. They are so beautiful! The three of them have three eyes that look like mine. The whites are pure black with gold irises.

“Time for proper introductions ladies.” Said the woman on my left. “My name is Nyxia.”

“I’m Vesperine.” Said the woman in the center.

“My name is Relicus.” Said the woman on my right.

“Hello.” I said. I want to tell them my name but I don’t just have the chance.

“We know who you are already. No need for you to introduce yourself.” Said Nyxia.

“Can we get a better look at you?” Asked Relicus.

“Sure.”

After my consent Nyxia, Vesperine and Relicus closed the distance between us and began to look over me. Relicus examined my neck and moved my hair to see my back. I know she was trying to be gentle but my neck is still sensitive. Vesperine looked over every centimeter of my face. Nyxia busied herself with my hands.

“Sleep really has a type.” Said Vesperine. “Can I see in your mouth please?”

“What do you mean?” I asked. I feel Vesperine’s thumb glide across one of my fangs.

“Sleep changes us all in Her image. But there are some features we know she likes.” Answers Nyxia.

After they finish the examination the ladies bring me to a pile of blankets and pillows. I was happy that the mood had lightened and I could relax.

“Alright V, you must have questions.” Said Nyxia. She couldn't be more right.

“How long have you been here?” I blurt out.

They let out a simultaneous laugh at my blunt question.

“We have been here longer than Vessel. Before Sleep chooses Her vessels, She chooses Her oracles.” Answered Relicus.

“We are meant to help Sleep by defining the futures of her potential vessels.” Vesperine told me.

“So you knew about me before the boys did?” I ask.

“Yes, Sleep sometimes needs help to narrow down her choices while She looks for vessels.” Vesperine explains.

The Espera grab a bowl and fill it with water. The bowl is set in front of me each of them

“How many potentials was She considering?” I ask.

“At the time including you? Six.” Nyxia answered. After she said that the bowl started glowing and I could see six human looking figures.

“We looked into each of their futures. After that we told Sleep you were the best choice.” Relicus said as five of the figures disappeared.

“Can you tell me what you saw? Was I the most devoted of all the candidates or something like that?” I got very curious about the answer.

“It wasn’t only about your dedication and devotion to Sleep. It was about the boys’ devotion to you.” Said Nyxia.

“Out of all the potentials they loved you the most.” Vesperine told me. “So then we told Sleep, She told Vessel and you know the rest.”

The bowl glowed once more and I saw Vessel. He is dutifully standing in the hallway waiting for me. He starts to pace back and forth. Only being interrupted when II and IV forced him to sit. I am sure that the pacing around was driving him crazy. After that the bowl was set aside and the ladies told me more about their experiences with Sleep.

I really learned so much about Sleep, Her plans and how Her vessels fit into those plans. The ladies told me about what my potential powers could be. I learned about Vessel and how they met and guided him. They told me how they helped Vessel find II. They also were the first to know about Sleep’s plans with me.

I’m not sure how long I was with The Espera but we didn't stop talking until I let out a yawn. That fact that I still need to sleep was fascinating to The Espera. Apparently I’m the only one who still needs to rest.

Nyxia, Vesperine and Relicus walk to the exit. I hugged all three of them and Relicus gave me a bracelet that had a small key attached.

“If you need a break from the boys, or you just want to visit, use that key on any door in the manor.” Relicus explained.

“Ok. Goodbye.” I gave them one more wave before I left.

“We’ll see you soon.” Nyxia said.

When I exit The Espera’s room I am in the main hallway in the manor. Not that odd long hallway I was in with Vessel earlier. I’m not surprised to see him waiting for me.

“How did it go?” he asked.

“I love them.”

#sleep token #sleep token x reader #espera #sleep token espera #sleep token fanfiction

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rubykgrant · 1 day

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Another re-draw with Grif and Simmons... but this one ticked me OFF while making it; it was so difficult re-doing the lines for a full-body picture, AND I kept drawing one the wrong layer, so I had to do it again and again (it's cool that MS Paint has layers now, but that also means the wrong-layer problem happens). I mostly wanted to do this again because I can see what I WANTED for the shapes in the original, but it isn't quite there... so I fixed things a bit, and added more colors/shading, plus some lazy "scenery". I also finally adjusted their outfits to the fancy designs I came up with. This is from my story in which Grif and Simmons finally go out on their first date... after technically being boyfriends for months (because they're stupid like that). They have a brief chance to enjoy themselves without some bonkers problem happening, so they go full sappy-romance (a nice meal together, a movie, dancing in a park while a live band plays music, and finally a walk on the beach at sunset. They deserve to be happy for once~)

Chapter for this scene below!

“So, where are we going?” Simmons asked, unsure of what to expect.

“It’s right over there…” Grif nodded in the direction he wanted them to go.

This was an interesting park; it had different areas, some flat and open grass for people who wanted to start a game where they kicked a ball around, some filled with flower beds surrounding fountains and benches, some almost like taking a walk in the woods under towering pine and oak trees.

Grif’s destination was down a little brick walkway, where there was a courtyard that overlooked a ledge, with hanging plants growing up metal garden arbors.

Simmons came right along, letting Grif lead the way. As they passed under the arch of leaves and flowers, Grif glanced at his boyfriend’s face, and was satisfied to see an expression of bright interest (he was hoping for this reaction, because this area of the park was like stepping into a scene from a fairytale… it was easier to let yourself get all sentimental and romantic when the person you were with appreciated it).

Together, they walked to the stone railing, and looked down. Far below them was a field with several small gazebos, and one large amphitheater. It was there that drew Simmons’ attention, because a group of musicians and performers had gathered. Grif’s attention was still on him… the way he looked in the soft evening light, the way the gentle breeze was sweeping his hair across his forehead, the way he was smiling like an excited kid. All kinds of fond feelings twisted in Grif’s chest… he was starting to enjoy having butterflies so often.

“How did you find this place?” Simmons asked.

“Well, while you were off having your family crisis, and I was dealing with being super extra depressed, um… Sarge actually started forcing me to go on walks with him in the morning,” now that WAS a little embarrassing, but Grif’s done trying to put up a front anymore. “And don’t start apologizing again, I’m not telling you this to guilt-trip you. Anyway, he was making me walk around outside with him, something about how I’d get bed-sores and start growing fungus if I just stayed in bed forever, and one time we found this little corner of the park. I started coming back here on my own in the evenings, because it’s kind of a cool spot. Back then I thought about how, like… if I got to hang out with you again, I’d want to show it to you… so yeah. Here we are,”

Simmons listened intently as Grif talked, and held back his urge to say how sorry he was… he still hated himself a little for the way things happened. This moment wasn’t about all that, though; this was about Grif wanting to share something with Simmons, and he was NOT going to ruin it with left-over shame. Instead, he gave Grif’s hand a gentle squeeze with his own organic one. All that stressful crap was over. He wasn’t going to let his family hurt him again. He wasn’t going to leave Grif like that again, either. They were finally together, they were on their first real date, and Grif was being so sweet…

All those feelings about regret fell away, and Simmons leaned against the railing, a helpless dreamy expression on his face as he smiled at Grif. He couldn’t do anything to stop it, so he didn’t even try. Grif smiled back, and seemed to understand that they were BOTH absolutely stupid for each other… they always had been, but now they could do something about it. Simmons tilted his head forward, and Grif met him halfway for a soft kiss.

“Thanks for bringing me here. This was a really great day, Grif…” Simmons said when they leaned apart.

“Oh, we’re not done just yet,” Grif told Simmons as he blinked his eyes open. “Wait a sec…”

It had finally gotten dark enough, here in the shadows of nearby tall buildings, for the lights to flicker on; several lamp posts began to glow around them, and down at the amphitheater, music started to play. It was an unknown tune, but something grand and soothing, slow without being like a lullaby.

“This is why I wanted to bring you here for a first date,” Grif elaborated, slowing stepping backwards from the railing and into the middle of the courtyard, bringing Simmons with him. “You never got to have an awkward date at a lame school dance. So, that’s what’s happening dude. We’re dancing!”

“Haha, oh my GOD! You- you really planned this?” Simmons stumbled as Grif yanked him closer, laughing the whole time.

“That’s right! I told you, I wanna be all your first-date-experiences, and that includes doing the slow-dance-shuffle,” Grif grinned.

“What, exactly, is the slow-dance-shuffle?”

“It’s the thing little middle-schoolers do when they don’t know how to dance yet, they just kinda hug and shuffle their feet, so they rock in a circle. Don’t worry, it’s easy…” Grif wrapped his arms around Simmons as the music swelled, growing louder. “And unlike middle-schoolers, we don’t have to worry about teachers and chaperones telling us to leave room for Jesus while we dance!”

Simmons almost fell down from laughing, leaning all his weight into Grif. A moment passed with them both giggling before they finally managed to compose themselves.

Now, Grif settled his hands on Simmons’ waist, warm and comforting. Simmons loved it whenever he felt Grif touch him… on his back, his arms, his chest… the times Grif affectionately holds his face… Simmons can’t believe he spent so many years NOT feeling Grif’s hands all over him. He can’t get enough.

Simmons slipped his own hands up to rest on Grif’s shoulders, and Grif pressed their bodies together. This wasn’t going to be a fancy waltz or anything complicated… just the slow-dance-shuffle. Unlike most REAL first-date dances, this was intimate and comfortable, close and cozy. It also wasn’t taking place in a school gym decorated with balloons and streamers; they were in their own little corner right here, flowers draped above them, pleasant lights illuminating the area, and beautiful music playing… it was utterly ROMANTIC, and Grif was very proud of himself for pulling it all together.

“You know, one of the schools I went to, they made us do dancing for PE,” Simmons said as they shuffled.

“Ha, so did mine. It was square-dancing for some reason,” Grif replied.

“Me too, but they also made us do ballroom dancing. Which looks stupid as hell in gym clothes,” Simmons grimaced at the memory.

“Oh shit, like actual proper ballroom dancing?” Grif winced as well. That sounded emotionally painful.

“Yep. It was so ridiculous, because we’d do it after running laps, so the kids were all sweaty, and nobody wanted to touch each other. Not exactly fun,”

“What about this? Right now?” Grif asked with a smile.

“Yeah… this is fun,” Simmons agreed.

“Good. I wanted today to be fun, but y’know, special too. That’s why I said we should dress-up a little nice, and why I wanted to do all the things we like together. We don’t get a lot of chances for special things to happen to us, so I decided I was going to MAKE this happen. We deserve to have a goddamn LOVELY TIME at least once in our lives, right?” Grif gave Simmons an extra little squeeze around his waist.

“I’m so lucky to have you with me…” Simmons sighed, closing his eyes and letting his head rest against Grif’s.

“Excuse you, I’m the lucky one,” Grif responded, nuzzling his face closer.

“Nuh-uh, I’M the lucky one!” Simmons argued.

“No, Me!”

They attempted to drown each other out by both shouting “ME ME ME ME ME!” before dissolving into laughter once again, which then slowly faded as they kissed. They hummed and continued to sway, moving slowly in a circle… dancing. Simmons was dancing with his boyfriend. They were boyfriends, and they were dancing. What an extraordinary thing. People did things like this every day, but that didn’t lessen the feeling that it was special. Perhaps it even confirmed it.

Eventually, they heard the music end and the crowd below applaud. They stopped dancing then, just hugging and holding each other for a while. A gust of wind made the flowers and leaves rustle pleasantly around them, and brought the sweet floral scent from other areas of the park in the air; some mixture of lilacs, honeysuckle, daffodils, roses, iris, pink ladies, wisteria, and more. This was, undeniably, a lovely time.

Without speaking out loud, the two seemed to decide to walk back to the car. Because of the tall trees and surrounding buildings from the city, the park was now a patchwork of dark shadows and warm light; the setting sun was still burning brightly in the sky, and wherever it's glow touched, the world turned to gold and deep shades of red. Where the light was blocked, everything became cooler colors, a combination of blues/greens/purples. As both men walked, in and out of the sun and shadows, it was almost like stepping through different seasons at different times of day (summer in the late afternoon, winter just before dawn).

#red vs blue #rvb #grimmons

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amatres · 1 year

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I know you have to choose the option but the farewell conversation that sticks most in my head in the Gallows is with Carver where Hawke can say something along the lines of 'This is how we're supposed to be, side by side' and he tells them they know it can't be like that forever.

Like, my Hawke at least spent so much of her life building her identity in service of her family. Hawke most resembles their father no matter what, and the family is shaped around them narratively (if you're a mage or not deciding which sibling you lose first and how that class effects how those siblings feel about themselves and their place in the family) and they shape themselves around their family in turn, exist for them, takes up the role of leader after Malcolm has passed. The answers of where Hawke considers home when they're asked never felt right, because they lived on the run for so many of their formative years, the true answer feels like to me to be their home is their family, the place never mattered beyond being allowed to rest and not look over their shoulder every day.

What happens to that identity when everyone you built it around is gone? Where would they consider home when it's all said and done? The Amell estate was something they got for their mother, one of the answers they can give to Varric in Act 2 on what they plan to do now is watch over their mother, Carver tells Hawke to look after her when the expedition separates them. Then their mother is gone too.

There's no final statement for this since it's just me rambling, but it's hm, sad to think about. Who is Hawke if they aren't living for the sake of another, when all those they lived for are gone and they never felt at home anywhere but in the people they surrounded themselves with?

#ama mumbles #dragon age #dragon age 2 #hawke #allyn hawke (oc)#im not writing meta this is just me rambling thoughts specifically born from trying to figure out allyns uhh problems lol #by act 3 the answers is probably their companions but eventually everyone leaves their side besides their possible li #so what do they consider home who are they when they are truly alone #my hawke is a mage which also shapes this perspective i dont know how it affects nonmage hawke #anyway carver was right and valid to want to find an identity separate from the family #bc like look how his sibling destroys themself trying to shape themselves around it #as for my own hawke id say she felt most content in lothering she briefly was feeling the same in kirkwall in act 2 but when leandra dies #part of her dies with her i suppose. shes the champion of kirkwall and its a death sentence bc shes a mage so she decides #to try and help at least make the world a bit more comfortable for any mage that comes after her #allyn and anders in act 3 shaking hands over being suicidal and throwing themselves into at least making it mean something #by helping ppl like them maybe having a better life #on that point the chantry explosion didnt feel like a axe to allyn it felt like a release. finally the hold of this place has lifted #if that makes sense lol. kirkwall was only for her mother now that shes gone allyn was waiting for an end to her stay there and it came #back to being on the run. something that felt more natural to her. maybe one day she will have a small farm again #or maybe she will live in a city with a garden if the people she surrounded herself wanted to live there #just somewhere that the noose of her family's ghosts were no longer strangling her

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snekdood · 7 months

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hey pro tip, if you smoke weed, save the ashes so you can put them in the soil for yer native plants. maybe you can't do controlled burns where you are, but you can at least fertilize the soil the same way 🤷

#gardening #native plants #native plant gardening #idk i just notice that whenever I ash in one plants pot a lot it starts growing really well so 🤷🤷🤷#i mean. ig this goes for all kinds of ash. I was just thinkin about weed bc obviously I was and thats what i end up producing the most #ash with :|#idk about cigarette ash tho. maybe if its just tobacco. but if its got all that other weird shit in it its prolly not good for the soil #buy cellulose filters n roll yer on ciggs #lika a MAN #or not if ur not a man. but yeah #i should sleep.#bc tobacco is a native plant technically so its fine yknow #i wonder about incense tho. that should prolly be fine right??#less bad than ciggs w/ all the weird ingredients ig sdhvgdsvgh #nope i looked it up and you should also not put incense ash in your soil #idk i'd say just stick w/ things you know are wholey organic yknow like herbs n sticks n leaves n stuff #and paper maybe too ig #maybe not heavily dyed paper

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fingertipsmp3 · 2 years

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Just remembered I really definitely unambiguously need to shower tonight because I’m going out tomorrow

#it’s just a family dinner thing for my mom’s birthday but we will be in public so i cannot look or smell like hotdog water #which is what i look and smell like right now because i went on a long walk earlier #i wanted a shiny teddiursa and i also wanted to see the church garden cat and then i managed to get lost in my very small hometown #i got turned around near the school and somehow ended up walking past my old friend’s childhood home where her homophobic mother who reminds #me of cruella de vil lives. so that kind of sent me. i think maybe i was in an alternative dimension for a sec #anyway like i said i must shower. which is very annoying #i don’t want to sleep with wet hair but i pretty much have to sleep with wet hair :( shall i do braids? or shall i just stay up until like 1 #with the fan on to give it a chance to dry #i mean i don’t have to be out of the house and coherent until noon tomorrow. sooooo #y’know what yeah. i think i’ll brush my teeth; then shower; then sit in my room with the fan on until 1am writing smut #a concept forced itself into my brain and i don’t think it’s going to leave until i exorcise it by writing it #and apparently i haven’t yet done it justice because it’s still bothering me so. we proceed #personal #*i feel like i didn’t adequately explain that the reason i’m really annoyed is because my hair takes about 10 years to dry #it’s nearly waist length and not very thick but years of not treating it well have caused it to cling to moisture like a fucking cactus #so even with all the will in the world i’m going to be going to bed with wet hair unless i go to bed at literally 4am. such is life :(#oh and i have a hairdryer but my hair tangles so badly when i use it that it’s literally not worth it #there’s also a nonzero chance of it getting caught in the hairdryer and fucking fried and i genuinely might have a psychotic break #if that happens again. so. i’m going to bed damp

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sttoru · 2 months

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sukunas fav concubine being bullied by the other concubines?? maybe they push her into the fountain 👀👀👀

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. being bullied because you’re sukuna’s favorite concubine is nothing out of the ordinary. when sukuna finally notices the harassment you’re going through, he doesn’t hold back.

wc. 2.2k-ish

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine! female reader. fluff, angst (hurt to comfort). heian era. bullying. one mention of d.ecapitation. vile language. reader gets called ‘brat’. beta reading? what’s that

“she’s got nothing going on for her,” “right? i don’t get what he sees in her,” “tch—he’s only using her for her body anyway,” “duhh. he can’t be pleased by her looks. i mean, she’s really ugly. i bet he thinks of her as just ‘nother hole to use. . .”

and the shushed gossips continue. the concubines hanging around the garden have noticed your arrival, though do nothing to stop badmouthing you. they couldn’t care less if you hear what they say.

you’re used to it by now. you’ve adjusted to this life of yours as one of sukuna’s concubines. his favourite at that—which automatically makes you a victim of verbal (and sometimes physical) harassment. the other women in the ruthless sorcerer’s harem can’t stand you.

your eyes are glued to the path you’re walking on. your lady-in-waiting doesn’t utter a single word as well, holding her head low as she follows behind you. you know that the concubines will immediately pick on you if you make eye contact with one of them.

it’s moments like these where you actually miss sukuna. his intimidating presence and (in)direct threats would immediately make the others fall silent. you wouldn’t have to hear them call you nasty names.

though, unlucky you, sukuna’s out on business. uraume is left as a temporary supervisor of the entire estate. to make sure nothing goes wrong. despite all of that, you still find yourself in an unfortunate predicament.

“hey. we’re talking to you,” a female voice rings from behind you. it isn’t your lady-in-waiting, but the brown-haired woman whom you recognise as one of sukuna’s concubines. her name. . . you can’t recall.

she forcefully pushes your shoulder with two fingers. you stumble backwards, nearly tripping over the material of your kimono. you look down at the hem and notice a subtle muddy stain on the cloth now that you’ve accidentally stepped on it.

you curse the woman out under your breath. the kimono is one of your favorites since sukuna had it made and tailored to suit your taste.

“my apologies,” you mumble politely. you do not wish to make a scene as much as you want to defend yourself. not in front of those poor servants who are simply minding their business and tending to the garden.

the lady scoffs. another one joins. soon, four of them surround you, leaving you no place to escape the situation. with every step you take back, they take one forward. it’s intimidating, though you try to make it seem like you’re not afraid of their words.

“tell me,” the blonde one speaks up and her hand trails up your arm. she twirls a strand of your hair around her index finger before harshly tugging at it. you wince, but she doesn’t budge, “tell me what sukuna sees in a worthless slut like you.”

it’s about sukuna every time. you’re getting sick of the way they treat you because of something you can’t control. you don’t know why he favors you out of all the other women at his service. the way you’re treated because of something that you cannot change is getting frustrating.

the brown-haired woman follows the other lady. she pushes you until the back of your shoe bumps against the edge of a fountain. the grande fountain in the yard that you always love to admire.

the tugs at your hair get stronger. your patience is wearing thin. you take some time to reply to the other concubines, hoping to silence them for now.

you look up at the group surrounding you—a grin tugging at your lips as you decide to taunt them. you scoff, “hah. you cannot blame me for satisfying my lord better than all of you could do together.”

audible gasps sound from the group of concubines. they can’t believe you had the audacity to talk back and be disrespectful about it. the comment you made clearly struck a nerve. or in this case multiple.

“oh, you slut!” the blonde one shrieks, clearly more than upset by your doubts about her services as a concubine. in a flash of rage, she gives you a firm push, sending you backwards until you fall into the fountain with a loud splash.

your lady-in-waiting is the one gasping this time. she looks at you with great worry in her eyes, not knowing if she needs to go fetch uraume or not. she doesn’t have much say in the matter either way.

you’re humiliated by this. you can feel the water seep into the robes of your kimono, staining the beloved material. your hair is wet as well, the water droplets falling off the ends of your locks.

“pah, you look pathetic,” one of the lower ranking concubines chimes in—giggling at the unfortunate situation you got yourself in. the others follow with their own high pitched laughs, “serves you right.”

you don’t even know what you should do. your body feels heavy because of the water wetting your clothes. your nails drag along the fountain’s surface, trying to compose yourself before you do anything irrational.

you grit your teeth and take a deep breath. you’re shaking, both because of the cold settling over your body as well as the anger simmering inside of you. you open your mouth to say something, only to be interrupted.

by someone you didn’t expect to see any time soon.

“enough.”

the deep tone sends chills down your spine. the volume of the male voice nearly shakes the ground. it’s powerful, dominant and quite aggressive. as if the owner of the voice is pissed. no, more than that.

the group of concubines freeze, not even daring to turn around and face the unexpected visitor. you notice your lady-in-waiting immediately falling to her knees, bowing at the man whom you know very well.

“my lord,” you stammer out, being the first to speak up and address him. you’re surprised to see sukuna back this early from his business trip. he normally stays away from the estate for days on end.

sukuna’s footsteps are heavy. his strides are menacingly slow. the aura surrounding him makes the others shake—one concubine being smart enough to bow to him. the king of curses is not one to be messed with, especially when he’s angry.

“tsk. have you lost all your respect while i was gone?” sukuna growls, seeing how the group of concubines are frozen in place with fearful expressions on their faces. the fact that they’re not bowing before him worsens his temper, “kneel.”

he raises one hand and they all knew what was going to happen. you squeal and shut your eyes, hearing that familiar and dooming sound of slashes around you. it doesn’t sound like they’ve hit anything, so you peek through your eyelashes.

you see how the group of women have dropped to their knees the instant sukuna raised his hand in that specific manner. everyone knew just what that meant; death to anyone who’s got their head held high in his presence.

you’ve all seen enough people get decapitated by that same action to know that the sorcerer was not playing around.

sukuna scoffs. he walks up towards you, ignoring the pleas of the other concubines that are begging for his forgiveness. his bottom set of eyes look down at them with disdain before focusing on your figure again.

he silently stands still at the edge of the fountain. his large frame looms over you and you find yourself struggling to get up from the water to bow at him as well. you keep your eyes on your lap, “i’m sorry, my lord.”

sukuna hisses at your apology. a warning for you to shut your mouth. you’re apologising when it’s not your fault and that irritates him more than anything. two of his strong arms reach down to pick you up from your vulnerable position.

the king of curses hoists you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. he’s not bothered by the fact that you’re dripping wet. in fact, both of his left arms wrap around your torso in attempt to warm you up.

“stay. you’ll all be dealt with accordingly when i return,” sukuna harshly orders your aggressors as he turns around and walks away from the group. he carries you in his arms, not sparing a single glance at his concubines.

he doesn’t even care that he stepped on one of the women’s hands as he passed by. the high pitched shriek only serves to annoy him, which you notice by the way he squeezes your waist in response.

it’s silent between you two for a bit. sukuna steps inside of the estate, his ominous aura making you hesistant to speak. you decide to stay quiet for the sake of keeping the peace. for now.

sukuna’s breathing is a little heavy. he’s trying not to lash out or say anything hurtful. he doesn’t like raising his voice at you—but sometimes he feels like he needs to. especially when you land in situations like those.

“how long has this been going on?” sukuna asks through a heavy sigh. his red eyes are focused on the end of the hallway, where his chambers lay. the veins in his neck look like they could pop out any second now, “and don’t you dare fuckin’ lie to me, y’hear?”

you gulp. you’ve never been so nervous to answer him, ever. you attempt to respond, “uhm, for quite a while, my lord.”

sukuna breathes in sharply at the revelation. the fact that you did not specify your answer only made him think that it’s worse than you’re making it out to be. he stops in his tracks, two hands on your waist as he forces you to face him.

your body dangles in the air as sukuna makes you look at him from up close, showing you that dangerous look in his eyes. you do not dare to avert your gaze from his as he speaks.

“you should’ve told me the moment they started disrespecting you like that,” sukuna grunts. another big hand grabs your jaw firmly, squeezing your cheeks together. you whine as it hurt a little. he scoffs and releases your jaw with a light push, “pathetic.”

you feel your body get thrown into your original position once more. your head is upside down and your legs hang limply over his shoulder. you try to defend yourself in a quiet tone, “i thought you were too busy. i didn’t want to bother you with such unimportant matters.”

it’s true. as much as you wanted to tell sukuna about the mistreatment you were receiving, you knew how busy he was attending to more urgent business. you didn’t want to annoy him with your own problems that you could easily solve.

if only you could stand up for yourself.

“nonsense,” sukuna raises his voice in a moment of weakness, though remembers that you’ve probably been through enough for the day. he doesn’t need to add to that by treating you like shit as well.

he simply sighs it off, “unimportant, huh? ‘s that how you think i view you?”

you raise an eyebrow at sukuna’s last sentence. you’re at a loss for words. you know sukuna values you more than any of his other concubines—it’s the main reason you’re getting bullied for—yet you never heard him speak to you in such a surprisingly soft way.

almost like he’s disappointed that you don’t realise the extent of his favoritsm. he cares about you more than you actually think he does.

“i-i’m sorry, my lord,” you stutter. you really do not have a clue about what to say. all you can do is apologise as you’re left overthinking that one little sentence he said.

“what a brat,” sukuna quickly regains his usual stoic and stern composure. he reaches his chambers and enters his personal bathroom before putting you down on your feet. he looks down at your short stature, feeling the warmth of your body leave his skin once you’re separated.

sukuna watches you shiver. he wants to get angry at you for not telling him about anything that’s been going on while he’s not present, though he simply cannot at the moment.

he’ll let you off the hook for now. but, he’s surely going to give you your own special scolding after he’s taken care of the other concubines. the man grabs a large towel from nearby and messily wraps it around your upper body.

sukuna turns around to walk out of his bathroom, looking over his shoulder once more, “get dressed into something else before you catch a cold.”

he calls for a couple servants to tend to you while he’s away to take care of those deviant concubines. sukuna watches the three maids rush to your service, preparing you a new set of clothes as well as trying to dry you off.

his gaze lingers on you for more than is necessary, his jaw clenching at the sight of you trembling from the low temperatures you’re experiencing. sukuna’s going to make sure those other women pay for what they’ve done to you.

he leaves the bathroom after that, though not without leaving you an order to follow;

“you’re staying in my chambers tonight.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk x you #sukuna x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk angst #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst

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