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k2ntoss · 3 months

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BIG FEARS AND LITTLE SURPRISES

tw ⭒ jason todd x fem!reader, pregnancy, cheating mentions, cursing, really REALLY angry jason, angst finished with a lot of fluff because i need something sweet with my baby ):

a/n ⭒ i had all of this almost finished and my fucking phone decided to go crazy and post it unfinished :) i swear i'm screaming. comments and reblogs are all appreciated, also feel free to leave anything on my askbox or inbox <3

no words count again, lmao, too lazy for that

the way your hands tremble makes it hard to see properly the results but it's worse with the tears blurrying your vision. positive. it's what you can see if compared to what the box says.

the knot on your throat is catching your breath with the sobs that manage to leave your lips and lucky you, the apartment is empty as jason had to leave for patrol. how are you supposed to tell him that you're expecting his baby? it's probably the biggest responsability you could make him take and you know he's capable of leaving his life behind just to keep you and the baby safe but here again, who are you to rip appart his life? you didn't had the right to take something so important to him away.

guilt is eating you up as you make your way out of the bathroom to pick up your phone, choosing to call babs because you really needed some help and she agrees to take you on her house for the night so when jason comes back you're not there, instead there's a note were you wrote 'i'll be back in the morning, had a small family emergency' and he senses there's something off but there's no sing of a single shit around the house.

you're out, babs helps you see an emergency doctor and you find out you're pregnant and you're on your fourth month, there's no way you can deny this and ignore it. you know that you'll have to end things with jason, be out of his life before you can ruin it for good, before you are the reason he loses his happiness and his reason to be.

there's no need to say that jason isn't able to sleep what's left of the night, it's not until you open the door when he's able to breathe because you look just fine, there's not a single hair out of its place on you and he comes closer but stops on his track when he's met with the less warm greeting you could have made.

"morning, jason" you say in a calm tone, your lips pressed on a fine line as you walk pass him, gently nudding your shoulder against his side as if you just bumped him and he turns around, mouth parted as he tries to say something in the exact second you dissapear through the doorway of your room.

"good morning?" he greets back, where was his kiss? and his hug? he's following you like a lost puppy while you pace around the room "babe... is something going on?" he asks softly, his eyes look worried and it hurts so bad because a big part of you wants to jump into his arms and break the news to him.

you were going to be a family.

you could have been a family.

but life wasn't that nice to almost anyone, you couldn't just tell him and ruin his whole life, take away everything for him to take a responsability that maybe he wasm't ready to take.

"nope, nothing at all" you reply, turning around to avoid looking at him as your voice comes nonchalant naturally, almost putting too much of a good show of being just fine. and then your phone rings, dick's name pops up on your screen and you look at it, fisting the device as you walk fast out of the room "i have to take this, wait" you mumble as you dart oit of the apartment.

jason is so taken by surprise he doesn't follows at first giving you the chance to talk a little more safely.

"i can't tell him, dick, what am i supposed to do? if i ever tell him it's all gonna be over" you mutter into the speaker and dick knows that part of it is real, but he also knows jason and he knows he couldn't feel his life would be ruinned by his own child growing on your womb.

there are steps comming from into your place and you know it's time to finish the call "i can't talk right now, please don't keep calling me" you mutter between gritted teeth "not when he's around" you let out as a whisper hoping jason didn't heard.

but as i said, life isn't nice. he hears it, it's weird because he made part of your mumbling and whispering "was it about your family emergency?" he asks, it's clear that there are some thoughts starting to rumble on his head but he tries to push it away.

"yeah, uh... my sister is having a hard time with her husband" and your answer seems to be genuine at first, jason nods at it makes you believe he accepts it. but he's not stupid.

that's the first time jason feels like something isn't right, the first time a little hint of distrust raises on his mind and he feels sick.

the following days are almost the same, you keep your phone inside the pockets of your clothes and avoid looking at him. there are no kisses or hugs over the day, no cuddling while watching a movie on the evening and what is worst.

there no hugging on your sleep. it's like you're pushing him away, closing yourself up to him and that makes him feel like he's losing you.

most nights you would just turn around and shift under the blankets pretending to be asleep just to push away his arms, snuggling away from him until you were sleeping on the edge of the bed. some other nights, just like this one, you would put up any lame excuse.

"it's too hot, jason, can we not cuddle now?" you'd ask him with a frown, thruth is that it was chill and you are just wearing shorts and a old shirt, too thin to cover you from the wind. your tone is filled with disgust at the thought of being too close to him when you were both sweaty when you wanted nothing else but cuddle yourself into his arms, to kiss him and hear his heartbeat "it's not a big deal, just one night not cuddling"

and jason isn't even able to reply, he just nods because he knows that if he speaks his voice will break. he might look like a though guy, like he didn't needed anyone but himself but he needed you. it was killing him, not being able to see your eyes looking up at him with so much love and care, why was he losing you?

at this point is hard for him to even talk to you, it's been two weeks already and you aren't home during the day. when he has to go on patrol you are about to arrive and he starts to lose any hope on being able to talk this through with you even if he decided to stay at home and skip his patrol. when he's back it's either to find you sleeping already or to find you on the couch and he doesn't feel brave enough to pick you up to take you to bed.

he has some hopes up tho, he feels like maybe ome of this days you'll wake up being the same as always, showering him in soft pecks to wake him up or maybe whispering sweet nothings into his ear but you know how they say that even the strongest rock breaks when water hits it too much?

jason has his limits too and his mind hasn't stopped to think of the possibilities of you having someone else. he hates himself because that would mean he doesn't trust you anymore and that what it is, but he doesn't want to think it like that.

one evening when jason is supposed to be out with bruce to check a big case you come back home, you miss being there and having him to hold you thight and kiss your face.

"you came back early" you hear his voice and it makes you freeze, he wasn't supposed to be here. for your luck it's starting to get colder outside so a few layers of clothing helps to cover the way your belly has started to grown. it's ever so slightly swollen, being your first pregnancy and you just being on the fifth month it was easy to say it wasn't really a baby bump.

but you knew jason would notice if he looked close enough. you are there, arms crossed over your chest as you look at jason. there's no hint of the warmth of his happiness to see you back home and your heart breaks up all over again for the hundreth time in weeks.

"aren't you supposed to be with bruce?" you asks, pretending not to be surprised or scared because you tried so hard not to tremble under his gaze.

"am i? really? for what i can remember we are both supposed to be and do some things but you aren't like you're supposed to be lately" he says and his tone comes out harsh. maybe it's for the better but he hates fighting with you, he hates having any kind of argument with the girl he loves so much but he can't take this anymore.

"and can you tell me what do your words mean?" you ask him, you knew that this was about to come it just needed to be pushed a little more to explode like an old grenade. like an old mine on a war field because it was just like that, everything was so spiky between you both it was better to spend your time out.

"you know damn well what i mean, y/n" he scoffs, there's a sharpness to his eyes that makes you want to cry but you have to keep it together so you can finally push him away so you can safe what's the most important thing for him.

oh but how mistaken you were. dumb, dumb, dumb. as if you weren't the most important thing for him, as if losing you wouldn't break him completely and let alone finding out he was going to be a father. you were about to take his heart out of his chest and squeeze it, drain it completely to leave him destroyed. the shell of the man he became when you came into his life.

"i'm sorry to break it into your hard head, i have no idea what you mean" you talk back, sounding all so sure and defensive when everything you wanted was to bury yourself into his arms and say how sorry you were, how stupid you felt for hidding all of this from him.

"you're not even the shade of who you were weeks ago, y/n" he stands up from the chair he's sitting at, heavy steps as he comes closer. he's towering over you and there's a voice in the back of your head that tells you that it's better to stop all of this because you also hated this kind of confrontation "what the hell is going on? is it even something better that what we had?"

and that question makes you confused, what was he talking about? what was better?

"care to enlighten me? you're just talking and i cam't understand what do you mean" your words sound genuine and they are, there's not a single thought of what he could possibly mean.

"c'mon, don't play dumb with me" he starts, looking away with a scowl. he walks away when he feels you shifting a little closer, it's almost as if the heat of your body wasn't a welcome feeling anymore, it burned him "did you decided to go play someone's else pretty girlfriend? is he even as good as i am?"

and it all makes sense. did he really thought you had someone else and even if you've been lying to him, hidding things from him it hurts you so bad because you were so sure he knew how much you loved him, how he was everything you could have ever wished for.

"are you being–? do you think i have someone else?" you ask and the way you sound so offended makes him feel angrier "who the fuck do you think i am? how can you even dare to say that?"

"so now you're offended? what? cam't stand being called out like the cheater you are?" his voice turns louder, he sounds so angry and hurt, jason feels his eyes sting and he has to bite his tongue to hold back the tears "what do you think? that i'm fucking stupid?! you think i don't listen to you when you speak on the phone? how you tell him to stop calling you when i'm around?"

every single word feels like a dagger into your chest, he's unable to stop himself with the questioning and the pain on your heart makes you bring one hand to the top of your belly in a protective way, almost by instinct because you know that intense emotions can be harmful for a baby.

"do you think i don't know you're not home until i leave for patrol?! maybe you're too busy letting another asshole fuck you like some cheap whore" and it's what you needed to hear, the last thing you needed to listen from him because now you can't help it.

the tears that start falling from your eyes in silence are just fuel to his anger.

"and now you're crying! can't you stop playing thr victim" and his voice is louder, he's screaming now and you can't think before it slips out of your mouth.

"i'm expecting" it comes out as a whisper, he can't really make your words because his voice mutters yours completely.

"i can't fucking believe you're crying when you're the one cheatin–"

"i'm expecting!" this time when his voice lowers it's your turn to raise your tone and he stops on his tracks. his face turns pale when the words sink on his mind and even the vein on his neck vanishes.

"what?" it's the only thing he manages after swallowing hard, he looks at you in disbelief and your worst fear roars inside of you when you think that he just can imagine his life ruined.

"i'm pregnant" you're still crying and your hand is still holding your belly almost as if you were also scared of losing what you thought was the last thing you had left of jason "i didn't knew how to tell you- i didn't wanted to ruin your life like this, i'm so sorry i'm doing this to you"

your words are slurred and you can't help it, the tears fall down more and more when jason covers his mouth with his hand and sighs. he hides the biggest smile he has let out in years and you can't see it. it looks like he's regretting being with you to your eyes and it breaks you even more.

with your eyes closed and the noise of your struggled breath you can't hear it when he comes closer and his hands are over yours, he looks at you with a spark of pure joy as he cups your cheeks so lovingly it makes your heart ache.

"are you? sweetheart..." he speaks and his voice breaks but you're sure he has never sounded so happy before "why didn't you... you really thought this would ruin my life?"

through your tears and all the fear you still feel doesn't let you speak so you nod feeling your knees weak and jason notices. he holds you into his arms, picking you up to walk and sit on the couch, taking your body in his embrace to cuddle you against his chest.

"there's nothing that i could have wanted more than this" he mutters, his lips pressed against your temple as he caresses your back "never again think that something as important as this could ruin me, okay? you have no idea... how much i've wanted to start a family by your side" jason speaks and there's no trace of anger on his eyes anymore, there are still a few tears rolling down his cheeks but the smile on his lips is there too.

"i didn't knew how to tell you, i'm so sorry" you sob, your arms going around his neck as you hide your face from him in shame "i don't want you to quit your life for us, jason"

"let me clear a few thing up for you, hm?" jason starts, one of his hands sneaks until it finds the small curve of your belly "first of all, you can't call me jason, it's either jay or any of those cheesy nicknames you have for me but never in your life jason" the way he sound deadly serious brings a sense of warmth and safety that you lost in the past weeks and that made it easier for you to breathe as you nod at his words.

"now, i won't quit my life. my life right now is you and this little one, yeah? it's gonna be hard, we're still young but we are a family now and i'll do anything to keep you both safe" jason says, so solemnly it makes you nod without even thinking. he was so right.

and you've been so wrong all this time.

"i'm on the fifth month..." you say, your voice comes out a little hoarse but jason can't help the pretty chuckle he lets out at his excitement.

"do you know what it will be?" he asks softly, leaning in to kiss softly both of your eyes. those were one of your favorites because jason started to kiss your eyes once you told him one of the stories you were told when you were a little girl.

and when you nod at his question he looks at you, waiting for your answer and it bring a small smile to your face after weeks of feeling dead.

"it's a girl... i went to the doctor today, i wished you could have been there" you say as you look away and it only makes you miss the way jason's smile widens and he has to cover his eyes because he's crying all again.

"so were having a little princess, right?" he asks, jason sounds so happy that just thinking about how you were about to hide this from him makes you sick, but there's nothing that can bring down how you feel when he smiles like that "will i be able to read to her when she goes to bed?"

how easy had been for you to deny yourself from the pleasure and joy of letting him know before but it wasn't late to make up for all of this. having a family with the love of your life was really a dream come true.

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thehighlordishere · 4 months

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Hi! Could you do prompt nr. 6 with Azriel? Thank you!

Ofc! Btw naming you polite anon for now😙I will write this in gn!reader

Safe-Azriel x gn!Reader

Prompt: "Shh, you're safe. I won't let you go."

Warnings: kidnapping, angst, torture, protective Azzy, cursing(?) Cassian being Cas,

You were taken in the night, and you were terrified. The one time Azriel was sent on a mission far away, you were taken.

Before you could even awake fully, or even contact him through the bond, a sedative was injected in you. You don’t what’s it called, but not only did it knock you out, it took your magic too.

Waking up with more bruises, than you can count, and in a very uncomfortable chair. You did not know you these people were, but you knew one thing, they wanted information. Moving your head up the best you could towards the opening door, walked in two men. One went to the side as one stood in front of you, ready to interrogate you, painfully. But you knew, you weren’t going to give them nothing. And it was going to hurt.

✩✩✩✩✩

Azriel would not rest. Would not sleep, eat, nothing till he got to you. He was far away in Prythrian from you, you were staying with Feyre and her sister Nesta for a “girls week” while he was gone. He was happy to know that you would be safe and happy, having fun while he was away. Or that’s what he thought.

He felt something in the night though the bond- it was a flicker of something before it was gone. It was fear. Immediately he shot up into the air. He has never abort a mission but, usually if you had a nightmare it wouldn’t be something like this-

What the hell are you doing? Rhysand seethed in his mind.

Something’s wrong- please, he had never pleaded before, check on y/n- Azriel still rushed through the clouds of the night.

y/n? They never came here to Feyre. Where is she? Rhysand asked, worriedly.

Shit.

Azriel didn’t reply, he was almost there, he had never flown so fast. He then continued discussing with Rhsyand. They had never made it Feyre and Nesta. Instead of heading for Rhsyand he rushed to their home, he didn’t bother getting his spare key they gave him, he kicked down the door before running to their room, the lamp was on but..the bed was empty. His roar of anger and anguish shook the mountains as he left as swiftly as he came.

He desperately tried to search through the bond. But he could barely get anything, someone drugged his mate- he growled at the thought. He was going to find them. And kill them.

He rushed into Rhys office, where he was already waiting with Feyre pacing on the side of the room. “Their side of the bond is completely shut down, I can barely get anything.” He was clinging onto it.

“We get them back Az.” Feyre reassured him (and herself). He growled before going to leave,

“Wait, Azriel.”

Rhys had found some pointers to who could have taken her. Some of one of the illyrians that rebelled and left the court. The fact that it was illyrians made him grow impossibly more angry and, scared, for you.

Him and Rhys flew through the cold air, morning soon, towards the camp. The bond slowly grew stronger, you were awake…and injured. Cassian had joined them at some point during the flight.

They had arrived, as much as he wanted barge in and kill anything in his way to his mate, he must plan first. He was the spymaster, and his shadows could-

Never mind, because Cassian flew into the building like a boulder thrown from the sky. Guess he could use that excuse to also barge in. He flew in after, with Rhys sighing, perched on a tree behind him. He slayed every man he came across, and freed any Illyrian female. He would kill everything that would even think to harm you.

🝮

Azriel reached you first. You were barley conscious, if that. You slumped into him, exhausted and hurting..we’re those tears on your cheeks? You had been through so much, and it hurt-like hell. Who was here? Why can you barely breathe or stand? Are they going to hurt you again?!-

“Shh, It’s alight dear, I’m here, your safe, I won’t let you, or let anyone hurt you again.” It was Azriel, who was wiping you tears away with his thumbs as he held your face to him. As if you would get hurt again if he let you go. You were situated on his lap as he held tightly onto you, his wings around you, shrieking you from the world.

Over time your breathing slowed down, he held you for as long as you both needed. The outside world did not matter. After a long while you were snuggled into him, his hand holding your head to his chest, as another figure entered the room. He instantly turned you away from them, shielding you with his body. You relaxed as you realized it was Cassian, he was covered in blood, but a look of concern and relief on his face (that was possible?). “No more are left. Let’s go.” You have never heard Cassian so quiet before.

Azriel stood up, still holding your sniffling form to him, he would not let go of you, till you were safe. He carried you through the hallways, purposely shielding your eyes form the bloody walls and bodies of men on the ground. You three met up with Rhys before you all took to the sky.

Az looked down at you and gave a soft kiss to your forehead. Not long after you arrived back to Veleris. The townhouse was closest, we’re Feyre and Nesta waited. He took you right upstairs first, he knew you didn’t want to deal with anyone right now, (neither did he) to his room.

He asked you softly if you wanted a bath. You felt so dirty but shook your head no, content in his arms. He comforted you through the night. Holding you tight within his arms in his bed, surrounded by his sent and him entirely. He would deal with everyone for you tomorrow. You don’t need to worry about a thing.

♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎♒︎

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬

“Azriel?”

“Yes love?”

“Why is my doorframe completely destroyed? -AND WHERE IS MY DOOR??”

Btw your actually besties with Cassian if you didn’t notice

Thank you for requesting! To long? To short? I tried to keep it shorter. Thank y’all for reading.𓆉

Ps. I forgot to proof read this, enjoy the grammar mistakes😘

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year

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Coming Home (Part Fifteen)

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: None! Apart from angst, ofc.

⧪

No.

No, no, no. Not now. This couldn’t be happening now.

Nothing existed in your head but screeching, screaming. None of the euphoria that had taken its place there only moments ago. An endless, relentless wind of darkness whipping around your brain and swallowing you up–

Mate. The word was clanging around in there somewhere, a millstone fastening itself around your neck. Not now, not now, not now.

You were winded. Leached of all breath, of all ability to think. Your trembling hands gripped onto the railing behind you – the only thing that stopped your legs from giving out beneath you.

Azriel was staring back at you, his eyes just as wide. But…understanding, it looked like, dawning across his face. Like the fog of a century of confusion was clearing, and things were beginning to make sense, realisation hitting–

You wanted to scream. You may have been screaming, for all you were aware of what was happening inside your head, and outside of it.

Fate must have been watching from somewhere above, cackling at you. Why now – you wanted to scream at the skies. Why, when–

When you’d already made peace with the fact that you were leaving Velaris again – perhaps never to return.

When before you’d even arrived at the Starfall celebrations that evening, you’d known this would be your last night here. That you were affording yourself one more night with the family you felt so disconnected from – and then you were out of here.

When you’d already written to Tarquin, informing him of your imminent arrival.

Fate was definitely laughing at you. Definitely punishing you – perhaps for being the hateful, bitter person that the passing years had moulded you into. Perhaps you deserved this.

“Y/N.” Azriel’s voice, though quiet as usual, may as well have been a claxon up on that roof. It hurt your ears, your head – your heart. He took a single step towards you. “Y/N.”

You blinked, tears spilling over that you didn’t even realise had formed. You attempted to take a step back – to get away from him – but the cold railing only pressed further against your back.

“Y/N.” Az repeatedly softly. “You…you’re my–”

“I need to leave.” You choked out; you couldn’t let him say the word. Couldn’t allow him to make it real. You sidestepped him. “I need to go.”

His beautiful features folded into a frown, lips parting. He reached for you, but not fast enough – you were already pushing past him. “Y/N…what…?”

“I’m leaving.” In great, hurried strides, you’d reached the door to the roof. Az was hot on your trail, his lips speaking words you couldn’t hear beneath the roaring of your mind. Somehow, you managed to force your feet down the stairs, though your legs could buckle at any moment.

“Where are you going?” Az’s boots thudded closely behind you. “Dammit, Y/N.”

Home – you were going home. Somehow. You had to get out of here, out of the House of Wind, and back to your house – where you were then leave for Adriata. You just needed to find someone–

Cassian. That was who you were looking for. You reached the lower level, not even acknowledging Az following you as you took a sharp turn into the kitchen. It was empty – everyone still out on the main balcony, still going about their celebrations as if the entire world hadn’t just cleaved and shook – except for Cassian fixing himself a drink. You almost cried out in relief.

“Cas.” You hurried over. “Cassian.”

The Illyrian general looked up with a smile – that quickly fell as he took in your features, the tears streaming down your cheeks, the undoubtedly shell-shocked expression taking up your face. The stardust smattering your clothes and hair. And then he glanced to Azriel behind you, his gaze flickering between the two of you. Could he sense what had just changed? Scent the…the bond, perhaps–

“Cas, I need you to fly me home. Now.” You breathed, every part of you trembling.

“What–”

“I can fly you home.” Azriel spoke quietly behind you. He took a step closer. “I – let me take you home.”

You backed away so fast, you knocked into Cassian, barely registering his warm hands steadying you. “No. No. I want Cassian to take me.”

Azriel’s face crumpled again. That was a silent plea in his eyes. “Y/N…please…”

But you were ignoring him. Turning in Cassian’s arms, and hoping that your eyes were communicating the utter desperation you felt. He shot one more look at Az before meeting your gaze, his brow deeply furrowed.

“Please, Cas.” You whispered. “Please just take me home.”

Tracking a tear that rolled down your cheek, he nodded. “...Okay. Yeah. Of course.”

“The other balcony,” You managed to bite, your hand dragging Cassian towards the glass doors that opened out onto the smaller, unoccupied veranda. Your feet stumbled ungracefully, stalling and tripping every other step, but Cas’s firm grip was enough to keep you upright.

“Y/N.” Azriel followed, bursting so hard through those glass doors, it was a wonder he didn’t smash them. “Just–”

“Leave it, brother.” Cassian said, scooping you into his arms. You could have sobbed in relief. “She doesn’t want to talk to you right now.”

And then he shot into the skies, Az’s stunned, bewildered figure becoming smaller and smaller as the distance stretched. You clung to Cas with a grip so hard, your nails bit into his skin; you didn’t know if it was the fear of such a height, or just the need to hold on to something that kept you gripping, firmer and firmer.

Cas didn’t ask questions – he’d always been brilliant like that. Leaving room for you to talk if you wished, but not pushing it. Even though his mind must have been crammed full with questions about what may have happened back there – he didn’t ask. Didn’t even speak.

He landed just outside your property with feather-light steps, not even giving you room to argue as he pulled you up to the door and walked you inside, his hand a solid grip on your own. Not that you had the capacity, right then, to argue; you were seconds from collapsing, or – something. Hyperventilating. Completely fucking breaking.

Cas stopped in the doorway, watching you silently – waiting for some kind of indication that you were alright – as you began to pace the floor, rubbing a hand over your chest as if to ease the ache that had gathered there. Maybe you would throw up, right there, over the dress Azriel had bought you. Part of you wanted to rip it off and burn it.

“You don’t have to tell me anything…” Cas said, inching closer. “But…I’m worried. Are you alright? You don’t look alright.”

No, you wanted to tell him, I’ve never been less alright. The temptation to drop at his feet and sob until you were hoarse was very much present, but – there would be no chance to leave Velaris with him watching over you.

And that was the only thing that could make you feel better. Getting out of here. Leaving it all behind.

“I’m fine.” You choked; it was laughable how unconvincing it sounded. “You don’t have to stay here. Go back to the party, Cas.”

He didn’t move. Just continued to eye you warily. “...I don’t want to leave you like this. Did Az–”

“I’m fine, Cassian. I just – I’m just going to go to bed.

Lies. You were such a pretty, skilled liar. Part of you hated yourself for it – for being deceitful. What if this was the last time you clapped eyes on Cas? The male who had been like a brother to you from the day you were born? What if you never saw him again–

No. You couldn’t start having thoughts like that…thoughts that would talk you out of your decision. Emotions were the last thing you needed to bring into this. You needed to be stoic, unblinking – to convince yourself that you didn’t care.

“Seriously, Cas. I’m just…I’m exhausted. I need to sleep.” You paused – and then forced another lie that almost wrangled a sob from your throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

No, you wouldn’t. And he had no fucking clue.

“Just…send word…if you need me.” Cassian said. “Whatever it is, I’ll come straight away. Promise me.”

“I promise.” Liar, liar, liar.

He nodded – stiffly, not at all convinced by you. But also not wanting to push you. Never wanting to push you.

He stepped away, and then turned in the doorway, glancing at you over his shoulder. “I love you, you know, Y/N.”

Your eyes shuttered. “I love you too, Cas.” And you did.

But it was much too late for that.

⧪

You gave yourself a total of fifteen minutes to completely lose your shit, to freak out and cry and scream.

And then you pulled the shutters down on your emotions, and you forced yourself into action.

Glorious Fae magic had meant that most things you planned to take to Adriata with you were already stored into the pocket realm, ready to be retrieved when you got there. You planned only to clean yourself up, and to carry a light change of clothes with you that you could don as soon as you got there. Something far more Summer Court friendly.

It was when you were rifling through your drawers, making sure you’d not left anything behind that you wished to take with you, that you heard the thump. And then the balcony doors opened.

Azriel burst in, nothing but a night-kissed breeze. You tried to ignore him, to not even acknowledge his arrival, as you continued moving about the room.

But he knew, immediately, what he was witnessing. His brilliant brain caught on in an instant, as he took in the room, lighter of some of your belongings that had been there before. The sight of you shoving that change of clothes into a small, light bag.

“What are you doing?” His voice was guttural. He stepped further into the room, into your path, when you ignored him. “Y/N?!”

You stepped past him, throwing your earrings – the earrings he had bought you – onto your dresser. “I’m leaving.”

“What? You’re not…you can’t–”

“It’s not up for discussion, Azriel. I’m leaving. Can you move out of my way, please?”

“No.” He moved into your path, his features crumpling. You could have sworn his voice broke. “You’re not going anywhere. We need to talk–”

“There is nothing to talk about, Azriel. Nothing.”

You may as well have stabbed him straight through the heart, from the way he looked at you. From the way he fell so terribly still. His throat worked on a swallow.

“You,” He rasped, yanking you closer by the hand. He cupped your face in his palms, his skin icy cold, “You are my mate.”

You grimaced. Felt that horrible, dreadful thing that snaked its way beneath your skin, through your veins, into your bones. A lethal, deadly thing that was both freezing and scorching, empty and suffocating. It was evil, so ruthless and evil–

It was what allowed you to reach up. To grab Azriel by the wrists and prise his hands from you. You stepped away, willing your face into steel.

“Do not,” You bit harshly – in a voice that didn’t even sound like yours, “touch me.”

Heartbreaking – so heartbreaking, the way his gaze immediately fell to his scarred hands, as if they were the problem, as if they hadn’t been touching you so gloriously not even an hour before. He studied them, a muscle in his jaw moving, and then he lifted his eyes to yours again.

Gods, they were haunted. Breaking. You could see it, and you wanted nothing more than to grab him and stop him from falling apart. But…but you were broken, too. You were so fucking broken, and nobody had stopped you from falling apart.

“I am leaving Velaris.” You croaked. “I’m going to the Summer Court – to Adriata. I’ve already informed Tarquin. I’m leaving.”

“But why? Why would you–”

“Because I can’t stay here, Azriel!” You snapped. “I can’t stay here and act like everything is fine when I’m falling apart and none of you fucking care!”

“I care about you more than anyone.”

“You can’t just decide that now because a fucking bond tells you to!” You were shaking, so, so near to trashing the entire room. You shoved past Azriel, began picking up clothes just to give your hands something to do. “I came back here, because I needed my family. Because I was lonely, and hurting, and I thought I might actually find the love here that I yearned for so badly.”

“I know things haven’t been easy–”

“Things have never been easy for me, Azriel. Ever. And every single one of you knows that, but nobody wants to help! And why? Because I’m not like Elain? Because I’m not delicate and soft and sweet? Because I can deal with it on my own, like I always have?!”

“No–”

“Well I haven’t dealt with it, you know.” You whipped around to face him. “I have never dealt with it. Not the trauma my father left me with, or Tamlin’s father, or you playing with my fucking feelings. Not Rhys being disappointed in me, who I’ve become, even if he doesn’t say it outright. I have never dealt with any of those things. I’ve let them fester, and spread, and now I don’t know where one bad thing ends and another begins. I fucking hate myself, Azriel. I hate myself, and I hate my life, and that is why I need to leave.”

Those broken eyes of his stared at you so thoroughly, so pressingly, it felt like he was undressing you, peeling back every one of your vulnerabilities and leaving you bare, emotionally naked before him. He braced another step towards you.

“Then let me help you.” He whispered. “Please. I know I’ve let you down. I’m so fucking sorry for that. I know I should have been there for you. I know that I was a coward and I should have just faced my feelings instead of mistreating yours. But I want to fix all of that. I want to make this better for you – for us.”

“Why, Az?” You laughed weakly, humourlessly. “Because we’re mates? It’s too late for that.”

“It can’t be. Y/N, I…I can’t lose you again–”

“I’m not yours to lose!”

He flinched – actually flinched, at your sharp words and cutting tone. The Shadowsinger, Spymaster, a figure of pure, unflinching stone, had become nothing more than a breakable object in front of you.

And you were about to break him.

But he’d broken you first.

“I can’t–” You swallowed a sob, furiously wiping your eyes. “I can’t give myself to anyone like this. How can I be someone’s mate when I can’t even live with myself? I can’t!”

“I can help you.” Azriel whispered. “I want to help you. I don’t care about anything else.”

“No, Az. You can’t.” You shook your head. Braved a step closer to him – even though it physically pained you not to reach out and touch him. “It’s something I need to do. It’s something I need you to let me do. I need you to let me go so that I can heal. Because I’m broken…and I cannot even think about accepting this bond while I am.”

You watched him – your mate – as a tear escaped the corner of his eye, rolling down his cheek. His shoulders had slumped, and you could feel it – his defeat.

“Az,” You breathed softly. “If…if you care about me…you’ll let me do this. Don’t make it difficult for me. I need to leave. I can’t get better here.”

His eyes shuttered, sending more tears skittering down his cheeks. So badly, you wanted to reach forward and wipe them away. But you didn’t. You stood your ground. Squared your shoulders.

Moments passed in silence. Of Az breathing heavily, slowly, like he was trying to calm himself. He pressed his lips tightly together, and you could see him fighting back a huge onslaught of tears. He wouldn’t let himself break right now – before you.

“Okay.” He eventually rasped. “If it’s what will help you – okay. I won’t stop you.”

“Thank you.” You whispered.

He cleared his throat – cleared the lump of emotion away. Straightened himself out. “Can I…can I at least winnow you to Adriata? Please?”

You paused, not having expected him to request that. You supposed you expected him to simply relent, and then to take off into the skies where he would scream at the clouds and the roaring winds. Maybe get drunk on his own and return to the House of Wind once everyone was asleep, not there to witness him breaking apart.

But he wanted as much time with you as he could get.

And you…you were okay with that. Leaving again would be hard, even though it was what you needed more than anything – having him by your side, however briefly, would help.

So you nodded, brushing past him and reaching for your bag.

“Yes.” You said. “You can winnow me to Adriata.”

⧪

Even Azriel wasn’t powerful enough to lengthen the process of winnowing – although you sensed he wanted to try.

He didn’t just take hold of your hand, as he normally would for such a venture. He clutched your body to his, his arms snaking around you, his face burying into your hair.

And then Velaris disappeared from around you. The two of you were dragged into that awful, whipping darkness that existed between one place and another. A darkness that was always a few degrees cooler than everywhere else and always, always so jarring.

And then you saw it – a pinprick of light that was rapidly growing. You felt heat fanning your face, and you immediately picked up on the smells of balmy air and salt and sea. Even in the very early hours of the morning, Adriata had a brightness about it that was breathtaking.

You were awed by the sights that you’d turned your back on all those years ago. But Azriel’s body had stiffened against you.

Tarquin’s sandstone palace loomed over you, beautiful and brilliant in all its Summer Court glory. And there, in the huge, arching doorway, the High Lord stood.

He was as breathtaking as you remembered. Cutting a casual, easy figure in pale, flowing clothes, the white of his long hair against the rich brown of his skin, and the pale blue of his eyes, had any potential greetings dying in your throat.

He truly was a vision. A friend.

Azriel sat you down at the steps that led up to the door – but kept an arm around you. Tarquin moved forward, descending the steps with casual grace.

“Welcome back to my home, Lady of the Night.” He greeted you with a bow that he repeated to Azriel. “Shadowsinger – good to see you.”

“Tarquin.” Was all Azriel offered – that, and a stiff nod. He stared up at the palace as if he couldn’t quite believe he’d gone along with this. As if he was considering taking you and winnowing straight back out of there.

You slid out from under his arm, turning to face him with a knot in your stomach.

“I don’t want to go.” He whispered, brushing his fingers over yours.

Tarquin had the good sense to look away and feign interest in a crack in the wall.

“I know.” You murmured back. “But I need this, Az. This – this will be good for me.”

Tarquin cleared his throat. “She’ll be well looked after here. I’ll see to it myself.”

Azriel glanced at him sharply, clearly reading a meaning behind the High Lord’s words that wasn’t there – and he growled. You placed a hand on Az’s chest, forcing his eyes back to yours.

“Please Az.” You pleaded quietly. “Let me go…for now.”

He swallowed hard. “Can I at least write to you?”

“I just...I just need some time. Give me some time, some space, and when I’m ready to talk, I’ll write to you.”

He paused – and then gave a relenting nod. What other choice did he have? The whole point of this was for time, for space.

At least he was trying to understand that.

“If you…” He cleared his throat, “If at any point you want to come home, just send word. I’ll be here right away.”

“I know you will, Az.”

And then he just stood, staring at you, clearly not wanting to take that leap and leave. And it would have been so easy to grab hold of his hand and beg him to stay with you. So, so easy – but not good for you.

“I’ll be waiting to hear from you.” He leaned in. “Whenever you’re ready.”

He leaned down, brushing his lips over your cheeks and your forehead in such light, gentle kisses. And then he stood back.

And then he was gone. A shadow splintering into nothing before you.

You gritted your teeth. Told yourself not to cry. You felt the warm touch of Tarquin’s hand on your arm.

“Come, friend.” He said gently. “Let’s get you settled in.”

⧪

Az flew and flew until he could fly no more. Until he was exhausted, his wings begging for a break. Until he’d screamed so much, he’d nearly lost his voice, and the wind had dried the streaks of tears on his tanned face.

It felt like it could have been anywhere between hours or days, just circling the skies and forcing himself to feel. To hurt. To recognise the consequences he now had to live with.

You were gone. And there was nothing he could do but let it be. To put you before everything and everyone else.

The sun had risen over Velaris by the time he could no longer keep himself aloft. The Inner Circle would still be at the House of Wind – either soaking up a night of drinking with breakfast, or heading to bed for some much needed rest.

Az could have done the sensible thing and gone for a walk, cooled himself off. He could have kept his mouth shut and wallowed in his pain alone.

But then he was coming to a staggered stop on one of the balconies, and he realised – he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave this alone, even if he wanted to.

A feral anger was growing inside of him. And he needed an outlet.

He kicked his way through the halls of the house. The combination of different voices coming from the sitting room told him that nobody was in bed yet.

He’d have an audience, then.

Fine. That was fine.

The doors to the sitting room were wide open, and they were all in there – Rhys and Feyre, Cassian and Nesta, Mor and Amren…even Elain was tucked into one of the armchairs, a soft laugh escaping her in response to something Cassian had said.

Az’s boots thudded against the floor, announcing his presence as he approached the room and stepped inside. Everyone looked up.

“Where did you get to?” Mor was the first to speak, sitting up. “Cas said he flew Y/N home because she was tired, but you were gone, too.”

Azriel may as well have not heard her, for all he acknowledged her. No – he stared at Rhys, and Rhys only. Stepped closer.

It took seconds for them all to catch on to something being…wrong. That look in Azriel’s eyes…the fury–

“What’s the matter, Az?” Rhys frowned, an arm casually slung around Feyre’s shoulders. “Why are you–” He paused as Az stopped before him, his nostrils flaring. “You smell…different.”

Az laughed, the sound dark, chilling – void of any humour. “Oh? What do I smell of, Rhys?”

“...Not sure…” The High Lord hummed, rising from the settee. He appraised the spymaster, eyes narrowed. “It’s like–”

“A mating bond, is what it is.” He snapped. “A fucking mating bond. That’s what you can smell.”

The room fell so very, very still. Even the birds outside seemed to stop singing. Seven pairs of eyes blinked at the Shadowsinger. Not one pair of lips moved.

So fucking typical, Azriel thought, that not one of them clocked it immediately. Because they wouldn’t automatically assume you to be his mate. Because they treated you like you were nothing, unworthy.

“My mate,” Az growled, stepping closer to Rhys, “Is gone. Because of you.”

His hands shoved against Rhys’s chest before he could stop himself. Rhys barely budged, but his violet eyes flashed with feral challenge.

“I suggest you calm down, brother,” He said carefully – his High Lord voice, “And tell me what the hell is going on.”

Cassian had stood slowly from his seat, inching subtly towards the two males. He stopped just beside them, ready to jump in.

“Use your fucking brain, Rhysand.” Azriel snapped. “Look around this room, and work out who’s missing, and use your fucking brain.”

Somewhere – somewhere, there was a light, feminine gasp. One of the five females had worked it out. Probably Mor. Maybe Feyre.

“You–” Rhys breathed. “My sister–”

“Is my mate, yes.” Az stepped closer again – shoved Cassian’s arm out of the way. “And she’s gone. Left again. Because of how she was treated here.”

“Take it easy, Az.” Cassian warned quietly. “Hands to yourself.”

It seemed that neither of the other two males heard him. Azriel was huffing breaths now, trembling with utter rage. And Rhys…Rhys blinked–

“What do you mean she left again?” Rhys stepped forward, trying to push past both of them. “Where is she?”

Azriel stepped in front of him, his shoulder knocking into his. “Summer Court. Said she had to go there because she couldn’t be here anymore. She thinks you’re disappointed in her – that you’re ashamed of her. And she totally fucking hates herself, and every single one of us is to blame. But you, Rhys? You more than anybody.”

Soft, delicate fingers brushed Az’s hand. Elain gazed up at him, worry in those brown eyes. “Azriel–”

“Do not touch me, Elain,” He ripped away. “Don’t you dare.”

Cassian was in front of him in a second, gently pushing against his chest. “That’s enough, Az. You’re tired and upset – you need to calm down.”

“I need my mate, Cassian!”

The stark, pained crack in his voice was jarring. So rare, for any of them to see such a raw display of emotion on his face and in the coiled tension of his body.

None of them knew what to do. How to approach him. How to help him.

Cassian squeezed his shoulder gently. “Just…get some sleep, Az. We’ll talk when we’ve all had some sleep.”

Not a bad idea – but how was he supposed to sleep with this gnawing, churning pain ripping him apart? When Rhys was just stood there, blinking into space, absolutely fucking useless.

“She needed us. All of us.” Az said to him through gritted teeth. “But you more than anyone, Rhys. And you neglected her. I don’t blame her for wanting to get away from here. Not one bit.”

Cassian was tugging on him, trying and failing to drag him away. Speaking soothing words into his ear that Az couldn’t even hear over the roaring in his mind.

“Az…” Rhys finally whispered, his own eyes glistening with tears. “I–”

“Hope you’re happy with yourself, brother.” Az cut him off.

There was a collective gasp of shock as the Shadowsinger’s fist went flying into the High Lord’s face.

By no means the first time Az had punched Rhys – it was part and parcel of being Fae, ingrained in them to hash things out with fists until the matter was settled and they were friends once more.

But this punch was different. One of a truly hurt, crumbling, heartbroken male. The force behind it had split Rhys’s lip open.

Before anyone could say or do anything else – try to diffuse the situation or drag Azriel away – he turned and stalked from the room himself. His footsteps pounded up the stairs, down the hall.

Only when he was shut in his bedroom did he truly cry and break for his mate.

Even his shadows didn’t bother him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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jarondont · 1 month

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Aftermath (odypen fanfic)

TW: mentioned SA and (according to my friend) slightly (and I mean SLIGHTLY) suggestive

[I was pretty proud of this one so I wanted to share :D]

[credit to @dootznbootz for the Water Wife™ headcanon]

The palace halls were deserted this time of night. The two lovers had taken an evening stroll — more like midnight stroll — and were still drenched from the creek. It wasn’t her fault, she insisted — Odysseus started it. Had he never smugly commented about his “godlike looks,” Penelope might have not used her naiad powers and they both would probably still be dry. But no.

That lovable little bighead, she thought to herself, smiling.

“What is it?” he asked from beside her. She snapped out of her thoughts and glanced at him — then, seeing his cocky grin, looked back down. Her cheeks felt hot.

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking about how embarrassed you looked after the creek incident.”

“Did not!”

“Did too.”

“Did not!”

“Quit arguing like a child,” she chuckled.

He pretended to pout, softening his expression like a little pup as he always did to persuade her.

“Don’t make that face at me.”

His grin returned, wider this time. “Why not? Too gorgeous for you?”

She stopped walking and playfully shoved his shoulder into the nearest pillar. Before she could say anything else, he grabbed her arm and pulled her close. For a second, they stayed there, looking into each other’s eyes, barely able to breathe.

She eyed his lips. He eyed hers. She inched her face closer, almost closing the gap between them —

“Wait.”

Confused, she pulled back. “What?”

Odysseus was trembling. His breathing was shallow and uneven, his skin pale. “I just … I can’t.”

“Why not?” Penelope’s brows furrowed. “Odysseus, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t respond. His chest was heaving, his eyes flicking wildly from one spot to another — looking at everything but her. And he wouldn’t stop shaking.

“Odysseus. Ody, look at me.”

He did, but his eyes were wild.

“You can tell me if something’s bothering you. Did I do something? Say something?”

“No — no, I …” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“It’s okay, Ody. You can tell me.”

“Ca — ” his breath hitched. “Calypso,” he breathed, barely audible.

“What — ” Suddenly, Penelope understood. She’d heard that word before. Calypso wasn’t a what.

She was a who.

“Another woman?” Penelope took a step back. “Is that what this is about?”

No response. Just more ragged breathing.

“Answer me, Odysseus,” she spat angrily. “Who is this woman you slept with? Why did you choose her over me?”

His eyes widened more, suddenly flicking up to meet hers. “No! No, it’s not like that. She — ”

“What’s going on, Odysseus? What else haven’t you told me? What else are you hiding?”

“Penelope, listen — ” He paused, choking a little as tears formed in his eyes. “I tried to stop her but she — ” Suddenly, he dissolved in tears. “I’m so sorry.”

Oh.

Penelope’s heart dropped. He didn’t choose Calypso over her — no, the reality was much worse.

She stepped closer again. “Ody, it’s okay — ”

“No. No, it’s not. I’m sorry.”

Reaching out to touch his face, she repeated, “It’s okay — ”

But he jumped away from her hand like it was the point of a sword.

“Don’t touch me.”

She froze, realizing why he said that. “I’m sorry, Ody — ”

His expression softened. “No. I’m sorry. I — ” his voice caught in his throat as his eyes widened again.

“I have to go,” he said, slowly backing away.

“Odysseus — ”

“I’m so sorry.”

And he turned and sprinted away.

•••

“Odysseus? Ody, where are you? Odysseus!”

Penelope ran through the halls, almost tripping and cursing at her dress for being so long. She called her husband’s name over and over again, worry blossoming in her heart like a poisonous flower.

She checked the gardens. Nothing.

She checked the main hall. Nobody in sight.

She checked the courtyard. Completely empty.

Where was he?

Realization struck her — there was only one place left.

Panting, she knocked on the bedroom door. “Ody? Ody, it’s me, are you in there?”

No response. She was about to knock again but then —

Sniffle.

Her heart felt like it had been ripped into pieces. Just that one sound made her knees feel week. Odysseus was crying — because of her. Because she decided to do the one thing that made him uncomfortable — touch him.

Although, she thought, Odysseus had never acted like this before. If anything, they both loved curling up on that wedding bed of theirs and losing themselves in love. It made them feel … intertwined. Not just their limbs. But their hearts. Their souls. Like two olive bushes — one tame, one wild — growing from the same stem with their branches wound together so tightly that nothing, not even the wind or rain, could pass through.

Now, it felt as if someone was hacking at the wild branch with an axe, trying to cut him off from his stem and pry him away against his will. That someone was Calypso.

Or maybe — Penelope dreadfully thought — it was herself.

Either way, she could not let him feel like that any longer. She opened the door, stepping inside.

“Ody?”

Another sniffle.

She gently closed the door, then followed the sound to behind the bed. Curled up in a corner was the king of Ithaca — shaking, sobbing, choking on his breath with his head against the wall and knees tucked into his chest.

“Odysseus.”

A pained groan escaped his throat as he winced. His eyes were shut tight, his skin dripping with sweat and tears.

Her gut twisted. What was happening to him? “Odysseus. Ody, wake up. Please.”

“Enough, goddess,” he croaked quietly. “Please.”

“What — Odysseus, it’s me —”

“No!” His body twitched as if someone had sent a bolt of lightning through him. His brows furrowed in pain. “You’ve — you’ve hurt me enough. No more — no more games. Please, I beg of you.”

“Odysseus! Please! Wake up!” she cried, crouching down and desperately taking his face in her hands. She could feel tears forming in her eyes, clouding her vision. What must he have gone through to get this upset?

His eyes still squeezed shut, he jumped away from her touch. “Get away from me!” he yelled. “Please — leave me alone. Let me — let me have one peaceful night. One. Please —”

“ODYSSEUS, IT’S ME! It’s Penelope! You’re home, remember? You’re safe. Please, come back to me.” She choked, the tears flowing freely down her face now.

His eyes flew open as he jolted awake. At the sight of her, his breath hitched. “Penelope,” he whispered. “It’s you.”

She nodded, smiling through her tears. “Yes, my love. It’s me. You’re home.”

For a second, he was silent, taking in everything about her — her face, her electric blue eyes, now overflowing with tears. She held his gaze, watching him realize that this was Penelope — his loving wife. She’d never hurt him. Never.

Suddenly, he threw his arms around her, dissolving in tears again. She hugged him back, her fingers combing his sweat-soaked hair as sobs racked his body. She fought the urge to cry with him, knowing that she had to be strong for the both of them if she wanted to help him.

“It’s okay,” she whispered into his ear over and over again until he had somewhat calmed down. “You’re okay.”

He waited until the tears stopped flowing, then let go and met her gaze again. “I’m sorry.”

“No.”

“I’m sorry, Penelope.”

“No, I’m sorry. I made you uncomfortable. I won’t touch you anymore —”

“No!” he exclaimed. “No, please do.” His eyes glinted with longing. “Twenty years I have been starved of your touch. I can’t hold back any longer. I just — it’ll take some time for — for me to get used to it.”

“Take your time, my love. I’ll be right here by your side.”

He nodded, biting his lip as his eyes moistened again. Burying his face into her shoulder, he sat with her in silence.

After a moment, Penelope spoke. “If you ever want to talk about it —”

He shuddered.

“You don’t have to,” she stammered. “Talk about it, I mean. I know it’s hard. I know you’re hurt. But if you do —”

“No, I do. Just — give me a second.”

“Take your time,” she repeated.

A few seconds passed as he steadied his emotions. Separating himself from the embrace, he took a deep breath. He couldn’t meet her eyes.

“It wasn’t just Calypso. Before that … Circe.”

Oh, gods. Penelope felt dizzy.

“But at least I got something out of that. Hermes told me that for her to release my men, I — I had to allow myself into her bed. So I did, reluctantly.” His voice cracked. “It worked. She released my men and sent us on our way to the Underworld. I thought that would be the last of it.”

Penelope started to take his hand in hers, then stopped herself. But Odysseus looked down, then took her hand instead. She smiled at him comfortingly.

“Calypso was a different story.” He swallowed. “After my ship was struck down by Zeus, I washed up on an island. She greeted me, appearing kind at first. She gave me shelter, food, clothing, and company. One day, I told her that I must be on my way. But she —” He hesitated. “She had different plans. ‘I gave you everything I could. It’s time you repay me.’ I agreed. ‘Anything, goddess.’” He paused. “I wish I had known what she had meant.” His voice cracked again as he finally met Penelope’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, my love.”

She shook her head.

“I'm just a man, Penelope. A mortal. I was no match against this goddess. I’m so sorry. Every night, no matter how hard I resisted, she’d — she'd force me into her bed; every night after … her, I’d lie awake thinking of you — of how I betrayed you, even when you were waiting for me for all these years —” He choked, letting out another sob.

She wrapped her arms around him again as he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t, Ody.”

Silence fell again between the two as he composed himself. Penelope spoke again — “This happened … every night?” she whispered.

He slowly nodded into her shoulder.

“For how long?”

No response.

“Ody —”

“Eight years.”

Gods.

Now tears fell from her eyes too as his fingers dug into her back, desperately grasping for her affection. The realization that this — being forced to betray his beloved; not the monsters, the gods, or anything else he faced — was the worst he could have ever suffered.

For eight years. Penelope felt sick.

“I’m so sorry,” he kept saying, but she only shook her head.

Her heart shattered. None of this was his fault; why was he apologizing? And this was nothing like the Odysseus she knew. Odysseus was a hero — strong, brave, and cunning. No, this was … broken. A man who had been through far more than he let on; far more than he deserved.

Even heroes need to be consoled sometimes, she figured.

They sat like that for a while, taking comfort in each other. When they finally parted, they both felt different — healed.

All that was in the past now. They had each other now, as they always would. They were safe. They were home.

They were together. And that’s what mattered.

“Penelope?” Odysseus asked.

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

She only smiled.

That night, the two of them fell asleep in each other’s arms — the two olive bushes, intertwined again at last.

Never to be separated again.

#aftermath #the odyssey #epic the musical #odypen #odysseus x penelope #odysseus #odyssey #epic: the musical #odypen supremacy #penelope #jorge herrans #jorge rivera herrans #jay herrans #tw sa mention #tw sa implied #tw sa

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dotieeee · 3 months

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The Gamemaker's Apprentice

Level 3

Pairing: Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow x You, named!Reader

Overall Warnings:

NON-CON, DUB-CON, Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow, Snow himself should be a warning, lots of blackmailing, gaslighting, manipulation, obsession, possesiveness, eventual forced marriage, eventual loss of virginity, breeding kink, canon-compliant major character death, reader is named but has no physical descriptions in the fic so one might also consider her an OC but in 2nd POV, will have canon inconsistencies, and other stuff that may be added

Masterlist

Level 3 Warnings:

Snow being charmingly manipulative, implied murder, reader being oblivious because she's trying to change

Replay Level 2

Ready? Level 3 Start:

A sigh of relief escapes you as you quickly traipse your way out of your last class for the day into the Computer Sciences College. You’re thankful you’ve packed your bag and had already run out just as soon as the bell rang because you had spotted a classmate of yours making a beeline towards you and weren’t really in the mood for small talk. Pathetic, really, what you’ve resorted to: running away like a skittish cat at the mere sound of a rustle in the bushes. It’s just the middle of the first semester, and they’re already driving their students up the wall with back-to-back quizzes, essays with almost unreasonable deadlines and group projects where you spend more effort trying to get the group to work together than working on the actual project itself. You wonder vaguely to yourself if this school ever bothered figuring out what its suicide rate is, or how many of its students get addicted to amphetamines by the end of the first semester.

Four in the afternoon. You can get plenty of code done on that program and still have enough time to grade the increasingly mounting pile of third-year mid-term test papers on your uncle’s file tray.

The private lab should be empty by now since there aren’t any of your uncle’s student assistants on shift. You’ll be in complete solitude for the rest of the night and go home by seven.

You stop in your tracks when you reach the door to the lab. It’s supposed to have been locked by the last student assistant to leave. Instead, the door is slightly ajar with the lights still blazing. It couldn’t be your Uncle Cas – he fully closes the door when he’s in and he prefers dimmer lighting. Whoever’s in here must’ve gotten in just before the student assistant left.

Great. Company. Just what you need. Mentally, you steel yourself for the incoming pointless small talk you’re about to be subject to and push the door open…

…Only for your breath to be taken away at the sight of your unexpected guest: blonde hair, slick and combed back neatly, wearing a luxurious crimson woollen coat over a silk waistcoat; sitting comfortably on your computer chair and flipping through one of your notebooks with mild interest...

Coriolanus Snow.

His cerulean eyes flick to yours as soon as you enter. They’re piercing and unnerving, and they’re starkly mismatched with that disarmingly charming smirk he flashes at you as he places the notebook back down on the table behind him. You make a mental note to lock those notes next time, watching him as he gets to his feet and adjusts his coat. You notice he’s brought lattes from the posh coffee shop nearby, and he takes both as he approaches you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“It’s been a while, Nellie,” he greets warmly with a slight tilt of his head. His eyes glint as he seems to scan your face.

He’s always towered over you, but at this moment it’s all the more evident with the way you have to crane your neck just to look at him.

“Hello, Coriolanus,” you greet, returning his smile as much as you could.

His smirk only grows as you study his face. He’s got plumper cheeks and a better colour, but there is something else in him that’s changed that you can’t quite pinpoint. It isn’t just his sleek hairstyle, his expensive clothes, or even the way he holds himself with an air of confident authority.

He isn’t the Coriolanus Snow you knew from the Academy anymore.

Who is he, now, you wonder?

“I heard you were back,” you say. “Oh, if you’re looking for the professor, he’s still in class and he won’t be out until five.

“I’m not looking for the professor. I came for you.”

You blink twice to make sure you heard him right. He hands one of the lattes to you and asks, “Walk with me?”

You fidget with the strap of your bag as you contemplate. He wants to talk, and you had an inkling what for. Right in front of you is the only person you know who was with Sejanus until his last moments. The only person who had the answers you seek. You don’t feel ready for this conversation, but you nod lightly as you accept the cup and utter a small ‘thank you.’

Placing your bag down on the long table, you let him lead the way, following him closely to a path just outside the Computer Sciences’ main building, overlooking a lake. The path is lined with trees shedding their leaves for autumn and the lakeshore is strewn with ornate stone benches for students who feel like taking in the great view and the fresh air. You’re both quiet at first, walking at a relaxed pace until Coriolanus breaks the silence and addresses you.

“I have been meaning to talk to you when I came back, but there was just so much to do, so many loose threads to tie up.” There is a slight crinkle in his eyes as he turns to you.

Fighting the urge to fidget on your shirt sleeve, you shrug with crossed arms and flash him a short smile. “It’s fine. Apprenticeships can take most of your free time. Dr. Gaul must be working you to the bone.”

“I could say the same of your uncle.” His eyes seem to search your face, then he blinks and points to the nearby bench, concealed among bushes and a large willow tree. “Come sit with me.”

You follow meekly and observe how he leans against the back of the chair and crosses his legs. You take the other side of the bench, your back straight as you mirror him sipping his coffee. You draw a bit of comfort from the warm, sweet liquid.

“How are you?”

You’re taken aback at how soft his voice has gotten. You had never heard him speak this way to anyone, ever. It takes you a few seconds to respond, perhaps enough for him to perceive your hesitance.

“I’m...doing better.” You lick your lips as you attempt to divert the topic. “You look well. How have you been?”

I hope the districts have been kind to you.

“I’ve been keeping myself busy, actually. Trying to keep myself distracted.” Coriolanus leans forward to better look into your eyes and hold your gaze in place. “I know you’ve been doing the same, Nellie, even if you deny it, or try to change to topic.”

Here it is.

You inhale sharply and steel yourself. “We all cope, one way or another. Some of us just learn to channel it better.”

He nods in approval. “That’s true. Learning to convert grief into productivity is an efficient way of coping. But then again, so is diversion.”

Unable to say anything else, you take another sip of the coffee. It had gone cold, but now, it’s the best cup you ever had.

“You know, he talked about you.”

Your grip on the paper cup visibly tightens. If he notices, he ignores it.

“A lot. He’d wonder out of the blue what you were doing then, or he’d look at the most random thing and remember something about you. It got on my nerves, at first.”

The tiniest of chuckles escapes your lips as his reaches your ears.

“Then it became comforting. To hear about anything else, about something close to home, about you.” His hand reaches to your lap and takes yours, squeezing lightly.

You freeze visibly, your back tensing even further. No one else, save one other hand, has squeezed yours like this. His hand may be cold, but his expression isn’t.

“Compared to all the uncertainty, it helped,” he continues. His voice falters imperceptibly as the other hand cups your cheek, making you focus on him. “You helped. Even if you didn’t know it.”

Eventually, he lets go of you. The softness in his expression does not change, you stare into his face to try to gauge what his intentions are. He’s never been open like this to you, but you suppose death could affect other people in so many ways.

Clearly, he’s handling it so much better than you. A little envy creeps into you, you can’t help it. How come he seems to be so well-adjusted despite the death of his friend? Here you are, desperately putting as many walls up as you can while he’s there, coming to terms with how he’s feeling.

That emotion is soon overtaken by a hollow ache. You miss Sejanus. Which is exactly why you’re avoiding any interaction with anyone he’s even mildly associated with in the first place.

“I’m sorry, Nellie. I couldn’t protect him. I want you to know that I tried, and that I wish things turned out differently.”

Unable to look at him, you lean against the bench and stare at the still waters.

“It wasn’t your fault, Coriolanus. You can’t take the blame for his actions.”

You blink away the moisture in your eyes.

“Before he left, he said you were looking for...someone in District 12,” you ask. “Did you ever get to find them?”

You turn to look at him, thinking you saw his jaw tense. You must be imagining it, but there is a hardness in his eyes before he blinks and it’s gone in a flash.

“I found what I needed to find,” he says simply.

You hum in contemplation.

“It seems like they don’t tend to stick around, do they? No matter how hard we want them to.”

“Maybe they weren’t meant to. Maybe the ones that are still ‘sticking around’ are the ones we get to keep.”

This time, his hand travels to yours on your lap.

“Sejanus isn’t around anymore, but I am. And you are, too. We were distant in the Academy, but I’d like to change that. I want us to be real friends, this time. Start over.”

Your confused eyes travel to his determined ones. There is genuineness with the way he’s being so open and vulnerable, so why is there a voice in your head telling you otherwise? Why is it adamant against giving him a chance to prove himself?

“Why are you doing this?” you ask in a hushed tone. Maybe then, he’ll reveal his true intentions and you could finally make a decision?

He takes his hand back and rests it on his knee.

“Let’s say we become friends,” you continue. “What if we do only because we’re trying to hold on to his memory? Then again, why would it matter?”

You mumble to yourself, “At this point, why bother?”

But Coriolanus’s friendly smile only baffles you even further. Is it possible for the Districts to change a man so drastically?

“Has anyone ever told you that you overthink a lot? You’ve been avoiding our former classmates at Uni. Me included.”

Muttering to yourself dryly, you scoff, “I’ve been avoiding everybody. You’re all not that special.”

He seems to have heard it and actually laughs.

“That’s going to get boring really soon, Nellie. Sejanus warned me about these tendencies of yours.”

“Tendencies? I don’t have tendencies.”

“Self-destructive tendencies,” he clarifies. “Do you think he’d want to see you like this?”

You offer no response.

“It’s not that complicated, Nellie. Let me help,” he insists. “You can’t stay like this forever, closed off in isolation. If Sejanus was here, he’d have dragged you out of your house and forced you to talk to people.”

An image of him pulling you by the arm and taking you to a park crosses your mind. This makes you crack up a bit. “Yeah, he’d totally do that. He was great at driving me and anyone else up a wall. And he always meant well.”

Maybe he’s right. None of this is complicated. Your instincts can’t always be right. You’re being unfair to him, pushing him away on the basis of a mere hunch.

Drawing in a huge breath, you make your choice.

“Friends, huh? It’s been a while since I’ve had one of those. Are they any fun?” You ask in a mock sardonic tone.

Coriolanus grins and raises an eyebrow. “Try me and we’ll see.” He then pauses before adding in a more serious tone. “He would’ve wanted this for us.”

“I think so, too. Alright, Coriolanus, I’ll bite. Friends.” You manage a warmer, more welcoming smile this time. Maybe this could work out, you and him. “Thanks for the coffee, by the way. Sorry I got all…dark on you.”

He gives a small shrug. “I knew what I was getting into, talking to you. And I’d like you to start calling me Coryo.”

“Coryo. Nice to meet you, I’m Nellie,” you say, feigning a formal tone, as you extend your hand out.

Coryo plays along, copying your tone, and shakes your hand. “Nellie, pleasure’s all mine,” He tilts his head in a small, playful bow. The atmosphere between you considerably lightens as the tension lifts off your body.

“'Coryo,’” his preferred nickname rolls on your tongue quite effortlessly. “I thought you hated that nickname.”

“It might have grown on me.”

He leans closer to your face without warning, his grin suddenly devious and smug.

“You know what this means?”

“What?” you say as your eyes narrow.

“You can never say ‘no’ to my invitations, now.”

“Oookay. I think I’m already regretting this.”

He knows you don’t mean it, so you both erupt in lilting laughter, ignoring how he got so close to your side of the bench. This could really work, you think to yourself. A lot has changed since the Games. The aftermath certainly matured you both beyond your years, reluctantly ushering you into young adulthood. Perhaps it’s time you see past Academy Coriolanus and let Coryo in this time.

You don’t notice the time until you hear more students walk the path and past your bench.

“Sorry, I should go back to the lab, my uncle’s probably going to need another set of papers sorted,” you say apologetically.

Coryo nods as he gets to his feet and extends his hand to you. “I’ll walk you back.”

You accept it, however odd. He bids farewell at the door of the lab, leaving you contemplating the entire night of the sudden turn of events and vaguely wondering why he didn’t let go of your hand the entire time he escorted you back.

With the midterms out of the way, life in Uni settles down a bit. Group projects are less scarce, and homework deadlines are a little more flexible. Professors start easing up on the workload, and students bask in this rare period of peace and quiet.

“Nellie, did you finish grading the Logic Circuits pop quiz from the other day?” Your uncle calls out from his office.

Well, most of the professors and the students.

You reread the top of the test paper you’re currently working on and respond, “Yeah, that’s what I’m currently working on.”

Your uncle rushes out of his office with his suitcase in tow and says “Great, I’m going to need that pile by four this afternoon. Thanks, plumcake!”

And he’s out of the door even before you can say anything. You glance at the clock – it’s an hour past lunchtime – and figure you could squeeze in thirty minutes to get some food before you go crazy or pass out, whichever comes first.

Grabbing your wallet, you’re just about ready to head out when you hear a knock on the lab door. You open it to find a man in a courier uniform with what looks like a box of pastries he asks you to sign for.

“Who is it from?” you ask.

“From Mr. Coriolanus Snow, miss.”

Huh. So, he’s sending you food now.

You take it to your cubicle and notice the card attached to the bow. It reads in neat, lovely cursive:

To my dear Nellie,

Sorry, I can’t visit today. Busy day at the Citadel. Pick you up for lunch tomorrow,

Your Coryo.

So thoughtful of him to have sent you something despite his schedule. You unravel the bow to peek at what’s inside. The delightful smell of brownies greets you as soon as you lift the box.

Although this is the first time he had food delivered to the lab, he had been dropping by almost every day to either give you sweets or to just say ‘hi.’ It’s a gesture you’ve grown to appreciate.

You take a brownie and begin to eat. Your friend just saved you a trip to the cafeteria, and wherever he got the brownies from, it’s absolutely divine.

You share some of it with a student assistant named Mathias Callahan, a senior, on shift from two to four while you both finish grading the tests.

“He was here again, Nellie?” he gasps as he inspects the package Coryo sent. “Jeez, just go out with him already. I wish my boyfriend was half this sweet.”

You just roll your eyes at him. You’ve learned how to dismiss his teasing comments by now. “He had that delivered, Matt. And, not my boyfriend. Just a friend.”

“Yeah, because friends refer to each other as ‘my dear Nellie’ and ‘your Coryo,’” he jests as he holds up the card to read. “What’s his full name?”

“Coriolanus Snow.”

Matt looks up dramatically from the fresh test papers he was stapling together. “Wait. Coriolanus Snow, as in the-tenth-Hunger-Games-winner-and-gamemaker-apprentice and the-Capitol’s-most-eligible-bachelor Coriolanus Snow?”

“The last time I checked, yes?”

He snaps his fingers in the air several times and says, “Okay, girl, you won. That boy is a total dreamboat. I don’t know why you don’t just jump him, because I certainly would.”

You shake your head with an exasperated laugh as you begin focusing on the task at hand: coding your uncle’s program. You both spend the entire afternoon in companionable silence and by the time Matt’s shift is finished, the entire box of brownies is decimated.

The lunch you have with Coryo the next day reveals that the eleventh Hunger Games is underway, and he’s already working tirelessly under Volumnia Gaul’s apprenticeship to help make it...well, worse than it already is.

You also thank him for the brownies.

“You’re welcome. I remember a certain someone slipping me a box of them when I was at the hospital about a year ago. I’m just trying to pay it forward.”

“I wonder who that is,” you simply respond.

Deliberately maintaining eye contact with you, he leans forward with a bright smile and says, “Me too.”

He sees you less, which he says he regrets, because of the preparations. Just like your Uncle Cas, who often has to leave in the middle of the night to go take care of something at the Citadel. Whenever you hang out with him, there is always a mention of the Games, with him leaving out the gory bits for your benefit. Normally you’d never stand for such a topic of conversation, but he proves to be rather insightful, as some of his ideas inspire you to develop your own plans to improve your uncle’s program.

You’re happy for him and somehow glad he’s pouring his energy into something he’s fond of doing, even if it is for the thing you hate the most. You can’t judge him for it, either, because then that would make you a hypocrite, seeing as you’re working for your uncle for the same reason. It’s a confounding feeling, and the more you try to make sense of it, the more complex everything becomes.

Overall, you’re just grateful for Coryo and his friendship, because it means you don’t have to live too much inside your head now. You are all too aware it’s not a good place to be in at the moment.

On one of your walks with him, while getting back from a coffee shop, he offers you a VIP seat at the Hunger Games right behind the Academy mentors.

“Tempting, and thank you, but I’d have to decline,” you say before sipping your latte.

Coryo’s expression turns rigid as he steps beside you. Is this his version of a pout? You can’t decide whether you find that cute or disturbing.

“I’m really sorry, Coryo,” you say apologetically. “I’m sure you did a great job with everything new you contributed to the Games, but I don’t think I can watch...”

You trail off, breathing deeply as you try to veer your attention away from images of decapitated body parts of dead parents and thick, warm red liquid seeping into your clothes –

A cold hand caresses your cheek, and you collide into something solid: Coryo just stepped right in front of you, his other arm placed on your shoulder and his eyes laced with worry.

“I lost you for a moment there. You don’t have to come, I understand completely.” The small smile he flashes is kind. “I remember you excusing yourself from Demigloss’s class in our first year at the Academy.”

“Yeah, that.” You both continue walking back to the lab. “You didn’t join in on the ‘wuss’ and the ‘crybaby’ and the ‘chicken’ part, I remember. Thank you for that, by the way.”

Tilting his head in acknowledgement, he says, “I know how it feels to lose both your mother and father. I wish I could’ve run after you, then.”

It was Sejanus who did.

“I’m guessing he told you.”

Coryo just nods solemnly. “I’m sorry for what happened, Nellie.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, too, Coryo.”

You put your hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, but he takes your arm and loops it around his, pulling you even closer to his side. You let it slide, however, seeing as he might take offence if you extricate yourself.

“Maybe we can both be miserable together,” he glances sideways at you with a corner of his lip upturned, making you chortle a bit.

You both finally reach the door to the lab. Ever one with perfect timing, Matt arrives just in time to see him casually planting a quick peck on your hair (it’s so easy for him because he’s so bloody tall).

“Ugh. Just get a room or something,” he says as he rolls his eyes.

Coryo nods in his direction in acknowledgement, then turns to you. “Lunch tomorrow, Nellie,” he says, that knowing smirk on his face just growing wider before he walks away, leaving you to deal with Matt and his smug look.

“Friends, my big fat ass,” he gloats as he opens the door to the lab.

He spends the entire two hours of his shift teasing you for it and you, ignore the way your cheeks grew hot after your friend bid farewell.

You sent Coryo a box of cookies, along with a good luck card, on the first day of the Eleventh Hunger Games. The Games itself lasted a total of nine days, and according to your Uncle Cas, as he’s putting on his tie, is a huge success. This only means your friend is going to be lauded for his stellar performance.

You had originally planned on going with your uncle to the victory party at the Academy the day it’s declared finished, wanting to congratulate your friend in person, but you fall ill with the flu the day before. Instead, you made a mental reminder to call him on his new number the next day.

The phone rings in your living room at around seven in the evening, just about an hour after your uncle left for the party. Your fever had been fluctuating for the past few hours, so you’re in bed when you hear it. You get up with difficulty, ignoring the way your vision spins a little and hoping whoever’s calling gives up by the time you get past your bedroom door. To your dismay, they don’t. You manage a weak ‘hello’ when you pick it up.

“Nellie. This is Coryo. I’m using Professor Click’s office phone. Your uncle mentioned you’re sick. How are you feeling?”

“Coryo?” you let out a soft sneeze that you stifle with a napkin.

“You’re not fine. I’m coming over.” Even on the phone, you can hear the concern in his tone.

“Are you calling from the party?” you ask, your voice a little rougher than usual. You lay down miserably on the sofa with the receiver in tow. “You can’t leave on my account, people expect you to be there. Congratulations, by the way, I heard everything went well.”

“Thank you, Nellie. But don’t change the subject,” he says.

“Relax, Coryo, it’s just the flu, I’ll be fine.”

He seems to hesitate based on the pause on the other line. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go back to the party, have fun, bask in all the glory and all the compliments from the sycophants who want to suck up to you, charm all the powerful people in the room even more, did I miss anything?”

He laughs audibly on the other line. “You’re even funnier when you’re sick. Did you know that?” He says fondly, before adding, “Are you sure you’re okay alone?”

“Nooo, I’m dying and this my death rattle,” you reply snarkily and let out fake a cough. He lets out another laugh. “Go back. I’m sure they’re already looking for you.”

“Alright,” he sighs. “Thank you for the cookies, by the way. Call my number when you need anything. Get well, Nellie. For me.”

You hum in agreement and say a small ‘thank you’ as you put the receiver back.

The next day, several deliveries arrive at your doorstep: a container of warm soup from a five-star restaurant, another box of the same brownies, a blend of teas, and a large bouquet of beautiful white roses with a get-well-soon card signed by him in his usual neat cursive.

You think it’s sweet, no matter how needlessly lavish. Whatever did you do to deserve a friend like him, you wonder?

The Eleventh Hunger Games’ monumental triumph propels Coriolanus Snow to even greater popularity in the Capitol, just as you expected. The downside with that though is that it’s all over the TV, the ads, magazines, the papers; everywhere you go, left and right, whoever you interact with, every conversation, somehow the Games are brought up, and you’d have to politely nod along, shake your head, and fake a smile every time. With Coryo, thankfully, the topic becomes much more technical in nature, which makes it just a tiny bit more tolerable since it’s part of what you signed up for as your uncle’s apprentice.

Unfortunately, there isn’t much development to the project despite your tirelessly working on it. If there is, you wouldn’t know, because your uncle wouldn’t let you test it. Every time you bring it up, he brushes it off and tells you that his team at the Citadel is constantly improving it and performing the tests. You suspect he’s stalling, but you’re not sure what for. Despite the stagnancy, your uncle claims they’re happy with his updates on the communicuffs they used in the recent Games. You take his word for it but continue improving on the project when you can.

Before you know it, your second year in college begins, as does your closest friend’s.

Unlike your freshman year, you discover that it’s easier this time to navigate the Uni’s social culture. You find yourself trying to weave out of social situations significantly less than usual, and you no longer actively avoid the people you recognize like you used to. Even your uncle has noticed this change.

“You seem...different,” he had commented once as he sipped his coffee. It was during one of the rare days you had breakfast together.

“'Different’ how, exactly?” you asked.

“Happier,” he said. “I like this version of you more.”

“Really?”

“Much better than that version of you walking with a storm cloud above your head. I don’t have to keep wearing a raincoat around you anymore,” he joked.

And every time you reflect on the reason for the shift, all you can come up with is Coriolanus Snow. Like your friendship with him opened up a gateway of sorts. And if you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t mind the change at all.

Like he said, Sejanus would’ve preferred this compared to you sulking and shutting everyone out.

That doesn’t necessarily mean you’re going to start attending every upperclassman’s house party whenever you get invited.

“Sorry, Theo. Parties aren’t my sort of thing.”

Theophilus Braun, or Theo, a senior and one of your uncle’s new student assistants, has just told of one such party while you’re both busy sorting and labelling the hard drives at the private lab.

Coryo is sitting in your cubicle poring through an instruction manual with disinterest, quietly observing the interaction. He had free time today, he said, and he just wanted to spend it watching you work. Odd pastime, but you’re not one to judge. Sejanus had done it many times before.

“Come on, Nellie. There’d be lots of booze, lots of people...besides, it’s the finals, everybody wants to loosen up a bit,” Theo says as he seals a box of hard drives with tape.

“Oooh, posca and people. Wow, I’ve never heard of a house party like that before,” you say flippantly as you wave your lollipop in the air.

Corio brought a pack of them today, saying he recalls what you left him on the day of the tenth Reaping.

Theo pouts at your tone. “Easy for you to say, your finals are almost over. Mine’s just halfway through. I’m going to the party tonight and my goal is to get wrecked. Might help me take my mind off that test later.”

“What about you, Coriolanus? They’d be thrilled to see you, it’d be like having a celebrity for a party guest.”

“No, thank you,” he says curtly, offering no reason to decline.

You twirl the candy in your mouth as you catalogue how many of the hard drives need to be wiped of memory, ignoring the way Coryo is staring at you from behind the manual.

“Wait. Theo, your test is in three hours. Why aren’t you studying?”

“I...can’t leave with all this work,” he mumbles.

Coryo finally puts the manual down and chimes in. “You go. I’ll help her.”

You and Theo both look at him in mild surprise.

“Really? Are you sure?” Theo asks.

Corio just nods once as he rolls up his sleeves.

“Thanks, man. Appreciate it.” Theo breathes in relief as he packs his bag and makes his way to you. “Uh, Nellie? Can I talk to you?”

“Sure.” You look up from your catalogue. His expression alone is enough for you to guess what he’s about to ask.

“Have you...given a thought about...what I said?” he asks in a hushed tone as he runs his hand through his hair.

You flash him an apologetic smile. “I have, but I’m not ready for that kind of...thing. I’m sorry, Theo.”

His expectant look turns into mild disappointment, but he smiles in understanding. “Okay. If you change your mind...”

He bids farewell and you wish him luck with his test as he steps out of the lab.

Coryo was apparently watching the exchange sharply the entire time.

“What was that about?” he asks coolly, his brows stitched slightly as he lifts a disk in the air to inspect it in the light.

Licking your lips, you say, “He asked me out to the movies this weekend.”

Coryo’s posture stiffens a little. “A date?” narrows his eyes at you.

You nod to avoid talking with your mouth full of candy.

“Theophilus Braun, son of Department of Treasury Chief of Staff Rufus Rex Braun,” he says matter-of-factly. “The Braun senior is poised to replace the current and indisposed Deputy Secretary.”

“Indisposed?”

“Bed-ridden. Old age.”

“No wonder Theo’s under a lot of stress, what with his dad being on the verge of promotion and all. Imagine what kind of pressure he must be in to perform well,” you observe.

Coryo grins mockingly and raises an eyebrow. “And he’s relieving himself of said pressure by inebriation?”

“I guess he’s picked his poison,” you respond nonchalantly. You hand him an empty drive, and his fingers brush against yours for a fraction of a second.

You spend the next hour with him helping lighten your load, until the bell rings, signalling your next class. You thank your friend profusely for his help and promise you’ll treat him to coffee tomorrow.

Unfortunately, the work is just as you left it the next day, with Theo being absent from his shift. You chalk it up to a hangover.

He’s also absent the day after that. Instead, what you find on your desk is an evidently pricey arrangement of flowers, with a note that explains why he can’t make it today: he failed his last exam and this date is his scheduled remedial.

Coryo’s gaze hardens as soon as it lands on the bouquet. “Pink carnations?” he scoffs in obvious distaste. “Vile coping mechanism, horrendous choice of flowers.”

An unusually mean insult, but he might just be in a mood today.

“You and your family favour roses, I noticed,” you say. “Looks like Theo is skipping today.”

You expected him to be there on Monday, but he’s nowhere to be found, just when you need the most help from him in checking final papers. Having no choice, you assigned the papers to the other student assistants in the morning shift.

“Theo’s absent again today, Uncle Cas,” you complain.

It’s a rare night you get to sit down with him for dinner. At the moment, he’s taking out a dish from the oven, giving it a strange look before placing it on the table. You spy with a suspicious eye on the red-brownish lumpy...thing in the dish. Your uncle’s cooking, without a doubt, isn’t a mirror of his mathematical genius.

At least he’s a decent baker.

The decent-baker-terrible-chef in question sits down on the table with you and scoops up some of what he calls ‘lasagna’ on your plate and then his. You stare blankly at the tomato sauce, beef, noodle, and cheese amalgamation, half-expecting it to gain sentience and spout prophecies in tongues at any minute.

He draws in a knackered breath and says, “I’m afraid Theophilus will no longer be fulfilling his shifts, Nellie. He’s dead.”

You set your fork down slowly in disbelief.

“Apparent overdose,” your uncle continues. “They found performance-enhancing drugs in his possession.”

That explains a lot, in your opinion. “Maybe that’s how he’s been pulling those all-nighters. He talks about staying up late all the time during his shift just so he could study. Does his family know he had a drug problem?”

Your uncle takes a forkful of his cooking and chews slowly before swallowing with an unreadable look. “It would seem like it. In any case, they declined to have an autopsy performed. Probably for publicity reasons, too.”

“Wait. They were offered an autopsy? Are the authorities suspecting foul play?”

“They suspect poisoning,” he says as he wipes his mouth with his table napkin. “But it could just be tainted drugs. Makers of these drugs don’t necessarily have to conform to quality control. Besides, autopsies are a standard for cases like this, I think.”

The sombre pause that follows is one of deep thought.

“I feel bad, Uncle Cas,” you confess.

“Why?”

“He asked me out last week. On a date.”

“He’s lucky he’s dead, then. I would’ve broken his legs.”

His joke has less snark than usual, so you let it go. Acacius Innis only gets to use this humour around you, after all.

Instead, you give him an eye roll and say, “I said no. He took it well. He was nice.” You sigh, ignoring your plate entirely. A sudden thought crosses your mind. “Did they ever get to perform an autopsy on Highbottom?”

“I’ve no idea,” he says with a non-committal shrug. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” you say slowly. “I mean, they could’ve gotten the drugs from the same source. You know how drug labs manufacture multiple drugs at the same time? Maybe they used the same equipment or something...”

Uncle Cas raises an eyebrow at you, a look he normally reserves for when you’re being too inquisitive for your own good.

“Nellie, best you keep out of this, yes? And the drugs, too.”

You nod.

“This is fucking horrible,” your uncle mutters to himself in defeat, pushing away his plate with a grimace and neatly setting down his cutlery. “I’m going to order take-out. How do you feel about calzones and gelato?”

Thank goodness your uncle knows when to give up.

“As long as the gelato’s pistachio-flavoured.”

“That is why you’re my blood.”

You laugh as you clear the table of his failed science experiment and wash the dishes. Your housemaid, Brilla, would appreciate washing less of them tomorrow.

Shortly, you get to sit down in front of the TV with your uncle and the take-out dinner. You try to focus more on the food and the drama and less on that nagging voice in your head telling you the deaths of Casca Highbottom and Theophilus Braun could somehow be related.

A few days go by, and not a word of the Braun heir’s demise reaches the Capitol media. Rumours have been circulating so far on the campus about what happened to Theophilus, but so far, they don’t go beyond that: just faint whispers of him dropping out of college due to failing grades, of him possibly being drafted to peacekeeping as a consequence…

His family seems to have gone to great lengths to bury the truth and save face. They couldn’t even see the Theo you saw: studious, fun-loving, good-natured.

Then again, he must’ve been wearing a mask, just like you, just like everyone else trying to conceal an unsightly side of themselves that other people would be appalled to behold.

Your friend is a welcome distraction to your increasingly darkening thought process. He enters after a knock on the private lab door and makes his way to you with a warm smile.

“For you,” he says as he hands you a fancy, rectangular box wrapped in a crimson bow.

Wide-eyed, you meekly accept, grinning ear-to-ear as you unravel the ribbon and peek into the box.

Chocolates.

You pick up the note that reads, ‘Don’t let your uncle see this, or he’ll eat all of it.’ You cover your mouth to stifle your laughter.

“You remember?”

“How could I not?” His eyes twinkle. “Happy twentieth birthday, my dear Nellie.”

Before you can even utter your thanks, he pulls you close and plants a gentle kiss on your head.

You fight the heat threatening to surface on your cheeks and concentrate on calming down your racing pulse.

The latter proves easier said than done.

He releases you after what seems like forever, with a smirk that makes it seem like he knows the effect he has just induced on you.

“I should go. Dr. Gaul is expecting me.”

You whisper your thanks, and he tilts his head in acknowledgement before heading towards the door.

One call of his name on impulse, and he turns to face you at once.

“Yes?”

Too late to go back. Besides, you want him there, right?

“Would you like to have dinner tonight with me and my uncle, at seven? It’s just a small celebration, nothing fancy.”

The smile on his face widens by a fraction. “I would love to, Nellie. Tell your uncle I’m bringing the cake.”

You follow his tall form as he exits the lab.

You want him there. He’s earned your friendship, it’s the least you could do.

Enter Level 4

Author notes:

Please reblog and comment, it's always appreciated!!!

Whatchutink happened to Theo?? Hmm...🤔🤔🤔 also, what could Snowball's motives be here I wonder???

#dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #young!coriolanus snow #young!coriolanus snow x reader #named!reader #or #x OC2ndPOV #dark!coriolanus snow fic #18+ only #dark!coriolanus #dark!coriolanus fic #dark!fic

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agaypanic · 5 months

Note

Reese Wilkerson x Y/N jealous smut pls!! Reader is rly popular n her little jock friends are flirting HARD w her & Reese doesn’t like it at all. Fluffy ending too 🥹 I absolutely love your work & appreciate everything you do. You’re my star.

He Can't Have You (Reese Wilkerson X Cheerleader!Reader Smut)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Being the cheer captain, you have a few boys that would do anything to get a date with you. But only one has your heart, and he wants everyone to know about it.

A/N: “you’re my star” im sobbing omg. also kinda feel like i got a lil carried away idk🧍‍♀️

CW: p in v intercourse, semi public sex (car in an empty parking lot), dumbification, unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), angry sex, marking up, slight thigh riding, orgasm denial, overstimulation

***

Reese stared in anger with furrowed brows at the front gates of the high school. He had come to pick you up from cheer practice, but you were being held up by some stupid jock on the football team. Despite being far away, he knew the guy was flirting with you, trying to catch a glimpse at any skin he could see, which was a lot, considering your cheer uniform consisted of a short skirt and sleeveless top.

Sadly, this was a regular occurrence. Reese couldn’t really blame him or any of the other guys that flirted with you. You were popular, beautiful, and sweet to everyone.

But you also made it very clear that you were taken. And even though everyone knew Reese could beat their ass, some liked to try their luck.

Especially the football captain. Reese didn’t care enough to remember his name. All he knew was that he was your friend, and since you were captain of the cheer team, you were around him a lot.

Reese was finally taken out of his thoughts when he saw your friend laugh at something you said and put his arm around your shoulders. He jumped out of the car, slamming the door behind him as he walked to you with clenched fists.

“Hey, Reese!” You said when you saw him, lighting up.

“Hey, babe.” He responded, putting a slight emphasis on the nickname. He knocked the jock’s arm off of you, replacing it with his own. “Ready to go?” He asked, glaring at your friend.

“Yup!” You said, giving your friend a small wave. “See you later.”

Reese practically dragged you away, although he tried to be gentle.

“Are you okay, Reese?” You asked, looking up at him. He didn’t answer. Instead, he opened the car’s back door and stared at you, wordlessly telling you to get in. Confused, you crawled in, sitting on the far side of the car so Reese could sit in the back with you.

“I hate the way he looks at you,” Reese grumbled, shutting the door. “He always acts like you’re his girl or something.”

“Who? Mike?” Reese’s mood worsened, wondering why you felt the need to name the dickhead. “Reese, he’s just a friend.”

“Does he know that?” He asked bitterly, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Why are you rolling your eyes at me?”

“Because you’re being ridiculous.” You laughed, but discreetly squeezed your thighs at the way your boyfriend was looking at you. His eyes were darkened by anger and lust, and he leaned in closer to you.

“Maybe I should fuck that attitude out of you.” Your breath hitched, heat rising to your cheeks. “Give you and all your little jock buddies a reminder that you’re taken.”

You let a whimper slip out, giving Reese permission to kiss you roughly. He wrapped his arms around your waist, effortlessly lifting you onto his lap. As his lips trailed down to suck on your neck, Reese guided your hips to grind back and forth on his thigh.

“Reese… marks…” You moaned, overwhelmed with stimulation. He pulled away and stopped all movements, making you whine. Reese’s eyes darted from your neck to your thighs, which were barely covered by your cheer skirt.

“You’re right.” He sighed, drumming his fingers on your hips as he thought. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t just go at your neck until it looked like you were attacked by a vampire. As cheer captain, you had a reputation to uphold, an example to set. And Reese knew you’d complain about having to cover the hickeys every day until they faded away.

So he decided to go for the next best thing.

You yelped in surprise as he abruptly took you off his lap and laid you down on the back seat. Reese’s head dived underneath your skirt, where he immediately started nipping and sucking at your inner thighs. You moaned breathlessly, waiting for his mouth to travel to where you needed him.

But his lips never strayed. It was like he wanted to torture you, making you more and more needy by being so close to giving you what you wanted but not willing to give it to you. Whenever you tried to squeeze your thighs to find relief, Reese pried your legs apart with his hands, nails digging into your ass and thighs.

Eventually, Reese pulled away to admire his work. His staring made you shy, but his hands prevented you from trying to hide your marked-up thighs and panties, which were probably damp with your arousal.

“Now, whenever you’re on the pyramid, and those assholes try to get a look at your ass…” Reese said, hand brushing over your clothed pussy, making you whine and squirm in hopes for more. “They’re gonna know you’re not theirs to look at.”

“Please, Reese.” You whimpered, looking up at him. “Need you so bad.”

“Oh yeah? You need me, baby?” Reese cooed, hovering over you to kiss your pouting lips. He laughed when you tried chasing him when he pulled away to unbutton and unzip his jeans. Wanting to speed up the process, you pulled your panties down as far as you could, and Reese yanked them the rest of the way off your legs.

Reese manhandled you, moving you around to put you in a better position before pulling his stiff cock out of his boxers. He swiped the tip through your folds to collect some of your wetness and pumped himself a few times before slipping in.

You arched your back at the feeling of being filled, moaning loudly and eyes rolling back. Reese wasted no time to pound into you, watching your tits bounce from the force of his thrusts. He flipped your skirt up so he was able to see himself disappear inside of you, smirking at the sight. You writhed around in pleasure, movements slightly restricted by the small backseat and Reese hovering over you.

“So good…” Your words almost slurred together, relishing in all the feelings and pleasure Reese was giving you. “S’good, Reese.”

“Bet that asshole couldn’t fuck you like this, huh?” Reese growled.

“Nuh-uh.”

“What was his name again?” He was baiting you. He could see the fucked out look on your face and wondered if you would even remember the name that you’d given him just a few minutes ago. You mumbled something, panting heavily. “Use your words, Y/n.”

“I dunno.” You said. The only things on your mind were Reese and your impending orgasm; there was no room for anything else. Reese laughed, thrusts getting rougher.

“So cock drunk that you can’t remember?” He asked in a sweetly condescending tone. You nodded. “Fucking you dumb so you can’t think of anything but me… Wanna keep you like this.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” You got louder with each word, so close to the edge, body begging to be pushed over. “I’m gonna come, I’m so close.”

Hearing that, Reese pulled out completely, breathing hard. You almost cried in frustration as you felt your climax slowly slip away.

“Good girls come,” Reese said, staring down at you.

“I’ll be good.” You replied immediately. “So, so good. I promise, please.”

“Gonna be my good girl?” Reese asked, hands grasping your ankles. You nodded furiously.

You thanked whatever higher being was out there when Reese accepted your pleas. You also thanked them for letting you be so flexible when he pushed your legs up, knees to your chest, before ramming back into you. You shuddered at the new angle that Reese’s cock was hitting you; he felt deeper inside you than ever before.

It wasn’t long before your orgasm crept back up on you. Sensing you were close again by the way your walls were fluttering around him, Reese played with your clit and gripped your marked-up thigh tighter.

“Gonna…” You tried to speak, but the words were caught in your throat. “I’m… gonna… fuck!” A wave of pleasure washed over you as you climaxed, coming all over Reese’s dick. He didn’t let up, slamming his hips into yours and rubbing your clit to ride you through your orgasm. Reese didn’t slow his movements when you came down from your high. You whined at the overstimulation. “Too much, Reese.” You muttered, feeling another orgasm quickly approaching.

“Thought you were my good girl,” Reese said, and you nodded in confirmation. He smiled down at you. His movements stuttered as he was on the brink of his own high, trying to hold you as close to him as he could in the position you were in.

Reese groaned when he came, his orgasm triggering your own. He stiffened, savoring the feeling of your spent pussy pulsing around him.

When you both came down from your highs and relaxed, Reese unfolded your legs, letting them stretch along the backseat of the car as he laid down between them, head resting on your chest. You looked at your surroundings, saw completely fogged windows, and hoped you were still the only ones in the school parking lot.

“I really don’t like it when your friends flirt with you,” Reese said, much more softly than any other time he had spoken today.

“I know.” You responded, hand cupping the back of his head in comfort. “I don’t really like it either. I’ll talk to them, tell them to stop.”

“Thank you,” Reese said, reaching up to kiss you. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Reese ran his hand up and down the side of your thigh, looking down at the red and purple splotched skin.

“That’s so hot.” He muttered to himself, getting a laugh and a playful slap to the shoulder from you.

***

Malcolm in the Middle Taglist: @rattilol

Reese Wilkerson Taglist: @hollymaybank @theogirlovermattheogirl

#agaypanic #reese wilkerson #reese wilkerson x reader smut #reese wilkerson x reader #malcolm in the middle #malcolm in the middle x reader

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kaleldobrev · 8 months

Text

The First Butterfly

Pairing: Castiel/Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Cas bond over your current interest in butterflies

Original Prompt: Requested by anonymous | Hey, I just found your blog and it's so pretty! I really like your writing^^ Could I please request something for Castiel x female reader, where maybe they're not on hunts and they're just taking a break, and maybe he sees her reading something like a book about butterflies or something like this and he starts talking about them and it's just fluff? Thank you in advance ^^

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Cursing (1x), Lots of fluff, Dean bothering you (but lovingly like a brother cause he's bored)

Authors Note: I haven’t written Cas in such a long time, but I missed writing him | I hope this is as fluffy as you were hoping my sweet anon friend! | If you want to request something, just send me a message! | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

It’s been a little over a week since you and the boys have been on a hunt, and you could tell that Dean was starting to get a little stir crazy despite your best efforts to keep him entertained with various ideas of things he could do besides bother you.

“Are you sure there’s nothing? Not even a vengeful spirit?” Dean asked you, taking a seat across from you in the War Room, propping his feet up on the table.

You looked up from your book - a book that you’d been trying to read for the past week. You gave Dean a look, a slightly annoyed look. “If there was a case Dean, don’t you think I would have told you guys?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He agreed. You nodded, and then went back to trying to read your book, keeping your finger on the edge of the page. “It’s just, it’s never been this quiet.” He said after a few moments of silence between the two of you. You looked up at him with that same annoyed expression you had given him earlier.

“I call that a good thing.” You said, looking down at your book again. You turned the page, finally able to read something new.

“I just really need to kill something.” Dean said banging a fist onto the table, the action making you jump in your chair. “Shit.”

“Sorry.” You closed your book with a firm slap, quickly getting up from your chair. “Where ya goin’?” He asked, watching as you started walking away from him.

“To my room!” You stated, loudly. “And with my door shut!” You emphasized.

For about the last hour you had finally found some peace in your room; actually being able to read more than one page - something you hadn’t been able to do due to the distractions Dean had caused you. As much as you loved the man, you wished he had taken some of your advice and did things to keep himself occupied during this weird break you and the boys have had. Despite loving hunting, having a break was something that was a rarity; and it was times like these in which you cherished it.

Lying in bed there was a soft knock on your bedroom door. You let out an annoyed groan, expecting it to be Dean on the other side. “Go away Dean!” You stated, only briefly looking away from your book.

“It’s…me.” A small amount of relief had entered your body at that moment, happy to know that it wasn’t Dean on the other side of the door but in fact Cas. “May I…May I come in?”

“Yeah you can come in.” You said, closing the book in front of you. As much as you had wanted and tried to read the book in front of you for the past week, Cas was someone that you hadn’t seen or spoken to in about two weeks - so for you, this took precedence.

“What’s up?” You asked as Cas walked into your room, closing the door behind him.

“Nothing. It’s been quiet.” He stated, standing awkwardly next to your door.

“Nothing on angel radio uh?” You asked, sitting up now.

He shook his head. “No.” He said simply.

You patted an empty spot on your bed. “Come sit.”

He smiled at your gesture, sitting down on the edge, very much away from the spot that you had touched. As he sat down he eyed the book that you had been reading and picked it up, the smile on his face grew a tad. “I remember when He made the first butterfly. It was truly a sight to behold.” He said opening the book.

For the past week you had been trying to read a book about butterflies, a subject that you had found yourself quite interested in as of late; not really knowing why. “I bet it was.” You said, watching Cas turning the pages of the book. “I haven’t read much, but, I’m really enjoying the book. What makes it interesting, at least to me, is that it tells you a bunch of different things about the various butterfly species around the world. Their habits, characteristics, what makes each of them special in their own unique way.”

“Do you have a favorite?” He asked, looking up from the book to look at you. He had stopped at a page talking about common species of butterflies found in Kansas - a page that you had bookmarked.

“The Red Admiral.” You smiled. “It’s the most common butterfly species to be found in Kansas. And one of the most unique things about them is their diet. Did you know that they love fermented fruit?”

Cas smiled. “That is quite interesting. I didn’t know that.” He said, lying. Of course he knew that fact, but that wasn’t something he was going to disclose to you. For the first time since he had known you, this genuinely seemed like a subject that you were truly interested in, and he wasn’t about to seem like a know-it-all, or seem dismissive when it came to this particular interest of yours.

“Do you have a favorite?” You asked. You knew that Cas had lied to you, but you didn’t care in that moment that he did because you were happy that he was humoring you in your interest.

“The Protocoeliades kristenseni. But, I have to say, I’m a little bias.” He chuckled to himself.

“How so?” It was a species that you hadn’t heard of before, despite your reading.

“They’re the oldest species of butterfly.” He stated, you nodded understanding. Sometimes you had forgotten how old Cas really was; until moments like these had taken place.

“I can see why you’re bias.” Your tone joking.

“I can probably say the same for you when it comes to the Red Admiral.” His tone now joking too.

You shrugged. “What can I say? Kansas as grown on me.”

“It’s honestly so hard to believe that there is over twenty thousand butterfly species in the world.” You said, you and Cas were now lying in your bed now; yourself underneath the covers and him on top. Cas chuckled at your comment. “What?”

“It’s humorous to me that you find that unbelievable but yet you hunt monsters, things that people do not believe in.” When he had said it out loud, it did in fact sound funny.

“When you put it that way…” you trailed off. “Makes it funnier coming from you. An angel of all things.”

“So, if you were around when the first butterfly was created, what did God originally call them?” You asked. “Did you and the rest of the angels get a vote? Or was it one of those things where he wasn’t taking any suggestions?” You turned on your side now, propping up your head with your hand and elbow.

“We, we didn’t get a vote no.” Cas said, smiling, trying to hold back a small laugh. “It wasn’t…it wasn’t up to us. But, I think Joshua did have some say. He was the gardener after all.”

“So it was always butterflies?” You asked.

“Essentially yes.” He said. “Buterfleoge, but it’s just Old English for butterfly today.”

“So, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it uh?” You said, Cas looked at you confused. “Meaning, why change the name if it makes sense.” You explained. “Butterfly doesn’t make sense though. I mean, I hate to say this but, was God…high when he named them? I mean, no butterfly looks like a stick of butter. And I know for a damn fact that butter wasn’t around yet either when he created them…or named them.”

“Jesus.” You were amazed. “I didn’t think you would actually do it.” You said.

“It’s not that difficult.” He said, as he started playing with his fingers.

“You named every single species of butterfly like it was nothing. That’s…that’s pretty impressive.” And it was. There was over twenty thousand species and Cas was able to name them all in less than 15 minutes, a feat that you didn’t think he would be able to pull off.

“It’s just as impressive to me as when you name every single Queen song like it’s nothing.” He said.

“You can thank Dean for that weird talent I have.” You stated. “Being in the car with that man every day for years will do that to you. Because of him, I know every single band from the 70s and 80s along with all of their members past and present, along with the names of all of their songs. Including, all the lyrics to said songs. Helps when he listens to the same albums over and over and sings along.”

“What got you interested in butterflies? I’ve never seen you read about them before?” Cas asked, he was now underneath the covers with you now, his trench coat hung neatly on the coat rack in your room in the corner.

“I don’t know. I just…for some reason I found myself really into them lately.” You said honestly. You had found butterflies interesting when you were younger, but it wasn’t a subject that you hadn’t delved deep into until recently. “I guess, I guess I really never had the time to look into anything that had interested me because of hunting.”

“Because it’s something that you were born into.” He stared, and you nodded.

“Yeah. While other kids were playing Barbie’s, talking about unicorns and butterflies and I was learning how to hustle pool and how to load a gun.” You were born into a family of hunters, kind of similar to the way Sam and Dean had been.

“I’m sorry.” His apology sincere.

“It’s not your fault. And, I know it seems like I’m complaining about my childhood but, my parents really were good people. Did the best they could.” For a while, you were mad at your parents, mad that they had raised you the way that they did - never letting you get the chance to be a normal kid. But in their own strange way, they raised you that way so you would always be able to protect yourself no matter what.

You had fallen asleep, your head leaning on Cas’ shoulder. The two of you had been talking for hours, and between the actual time and the amount of talking the two of you had done it had started to wear you out. Cas knew that you had wanted to talk to him more, talk to him about everything that you had learned so far from your book, but for the life of you, you couldn’t keep your eyes open. And as you talked about the Monarch Butterfly, your eyes had started to grow heavy. You had tried to fight it, and Cas saw that. As much as he had wanted to try and keep you up, he knew that you needed the sleep. The life of a hunter was tough, and not getting a lot of sleep was a part of the job. That is why he let you drift off into dream land so you could get that sleep that you needed.

He decided to stay there in bed with you. He wanted to enjoy the peacefulness of watching you sleep, something that he had always found fascinating to watch when it came to humans. He had only hoped that you were dreaming of butterflies. With a kiss on the top of your head, he shut his eyes too; not to sleep of course, but to just let them rest as he waited for you to wake up.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 If you'd like to be on a tag list, let me know!

#castiel x reader #castiel x you #spn #supernatural #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #supernatural one shot #cas x you #cas x reader #reader insert #female reader

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urne-buriall · 1 month

Note

i miss sotw dean

so do I. and sometimes I think about what would've happened if Cas had been at home the day Dean brought the bread, the night after their ill-fated first kiss:

Dean left Cesar’s making straight for Cas’ place, chewing on his thumbnail as he drove into town. Would Cas even be home? He’d probably be at work. Dean was counting on him being at work. He’d made bread, but he didn’t have anything like a speech prepared and he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he saw Cas again.

He drove right past the laundromat, turned to go around the block, slowing himself down on purpose. Cas wouldn’t be there. Dean would leave a note. Because if Cas was there it could be very strange. Would he even want to see Dean? Would he want to invite him inside? The way Dean had shut him down last night, completely unwarranted, the bread might not be enough to counteract that. Dean briefly doubted whether Cas even wanted him that way to begin with, as if he might’ve made it all up. But his lips felt the ghost of Cas’ all over again. So passionate, so all-consuming. It was what all the couples in romance books kissed like. He knew how it felt, now. He hadn’t made that up.

He hid the trembling in his hands as he got out of his truck and made his way to the alley behind the laundromat. Vented air from the building smelled like detergent and dryer sheets, warm and thick. He’d feel like a criminal just heading this way if he hadn’t already visited so many times for GED studying. Those moments, too, he now thought of in a different light. Instead of sitting on the futon to go over notes, Cas might press him back into the couch with kisses…

Dean was convinced Cas wouldn’t be home, so when he rounded the corner and saw the motorbike parked, he stopped short. But Cas was walking distance from the vet clinic and used the truck for work, so he might still be out. Dean cast a glance up before he started up the metal steps. The sound of his feet announced him before he would even reach the top landing outside Cas’ front door.

He might not be home. Dean could leave the conchas on the patio table with a note. But if Cas was home, he would’ve heard someone come up the steps. Dean should knock and hope for no answer. He pulled back the screen door so he could knock on the door proper, then waited a fast moment.

Good. Nothing. He could release this complicated feeling of fear and disappointment and leave the container on the table.

The door opened before Dean could turn away.

Cas wore an old university t-shirt and a pair of dark green khaki shorts. He stood in the doorway very still, as much taken aback as Dean to find him standing there.

“Dean,” he said, voice lower and more gravelly than usual. For a moment Dean didn’t know what to think of being under Cas’ gaze again, wondering what he looked like to Cas in this moment, wondering what he thought. And then Cas’ eyes flicked past Dean towards the empty staircase. It was brief—already Cas was looking at him again—but it was telling.

He was afraid Dean had come here with others. He was afraid Dean had come with ill-intent.

“Cas, I—” Dean’s voice caught in his throat. He had to clear it unexpectedly. “I um. I made you bread.”

Cas looked down at the container Dean offered out, then back up at Dean with a furrowed brow like he didn’t understand.

“They’re, uh, conchas,” said Dean. “Like we had at Cesar’s after we brought the mustang.”

Cas’ head began to tip at an angle, putting pieces together but not with much confidence.

“I spent the morning there,” Dean finished. “Making these. Talking to Cesar. I— I wanted to give you something. To say sorry.”

Cas slowly took the container from Dean. He remained strangely still, taut, his face giving next to nothing away. “Sorry?” said Cas.

“For not letting you say anything last— last night,” said Dean. “You wanted to talk and I— I wasn’t very nice.”

Cas dropped his gaze down, mouth looking sad and severe. He took a breath and said, “I’m not sure what you want me to say now.”

It wasn’t an accusation. It was a plea. Dean felt like he’d been as clear as he could be, dropping those breadcrumbs. He’d talked to Cesar. He made conchas for Cas. He was sorry for not giving Cas a chance to talk, but he wasn’t sorry for the rest of it. But Cas wasn’t a guy who worked with coded messages.

“Well,” said Dean, and he looked from around the landing back to Cas. This wasn’t the kind of thing you stood outside for. “If you wanted to invite me in, we could start there?”

“You want to come in?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, I— Yeah,” said Dean.

Cas looked thoughtful but he stepped back, letting Dean inside. Dean’s heart beat faster just passing close by Cas. The room was warm but there were a couple of windows open and Cas had the fan going, keeping it from feeling stuffy. Cas passed Dean to set the container of conchas on the table. He stopped there, looking down at them, far from confident in his next step.

Dean wondered for the first time if he really had broken things irremediably. He thought he could bring some bread over and make things right just like that? After breaking Cas’ heart into pieces by being so careless and cruel the night before?

“I freaked out.” Dean’s own voice surprised him. Quiet and strained and uncertain. He didn’t even know where the words came from, unbidden but completely honest. “I never even thought of— of kissing a guy before.” It was so vulnerable he looked down at his shoes, feeling red touch his cheeks, even as he could tell that Cas now looked over. “And I just— I like you so much, Cas, and I was worried I ruined everything, and I got scared, and then I did ruin everything. But uh, you know, my whole life just changed less than twenty-four hours ago and I just… wanna make it right.”

“Changed?” said Cas, taking a step closer.

“I’ve been trying to be something I’m not,” said Dean. “My whole life. And then you came along. You came back. And I— I didn’t know what it meant to me. Until last night.”

Cas lifted his chin, his shoulders evening out from their previous despondent slope. “So when you said… You’re ‘not like that’...”

Dean shook his head, meeting Cas’ gaze even though it was terrifying to be so bold and honest. “It wasn’t true,” said Dean. “But… I needed some time to figure it out.”

“You talked to Cesar,” said Cas, fitting that piece of information into context now.

“Yeah,” said Dean. “I’m sorry about icing you out last night. It wasn’t fair. Are you… are you okay?”

Cas’ head tipped again as if he hadn’t expected that question. He had to think about the answer. He eventually said, “Yeah. Now.” He wet his lips and said, “Dean. I wanted to talk to you. I just wanted to say… all these things to you. I wasn’t going to push. I would’ve listened.”

“I’m sorry for that part,” said Dean. “I’m sorry I was a dick to you.”

“I was afraid I ruined things,” said Cas.

He was afraid of more than that. Dean couldn’t forget the way Cas glanced at the steps as if Dean might’ve turned up here with backup. Dean took a small step forward. “Can we start over?” he asked. “Forget I made such a mess?”

Cas glanced at Dean’s lips, a telling gesture. Exactly what Dean wanted. “Starting over,” said Cas. “Does that mean…”

“I wanna kiss you again,” said Dean. “And this time I won’t run away.”

Cas closed the last distance between them. His hand rose to cradle Dean’s jaw and Dean swore his heart leapt to his mouth in time for their lips to meet. This kiss was so tender and yet it was so much more than Dean had ever felt with any of the rare girls he’d agreed to date. Cas felt so much more real, so solid. And while this felt so much more enlivening than any other kiss, Dean found himself drifting within it, as if he’d been unmoored into a dream.

When they kissed away they kept their faces close, Cas’ head bowed and resting against Dean’s forehead. His thumb brushed across Dean’s chin, tracing just faintly against Dean’s lower lip. Dean’s heart thudded in his chest.

“You aren’t running away,” Cas stated.

“No,” said Dean. “I wanna stay right here.”

Cas made a sound like his breath catching. “Stay,” he said. “Please.”

There was something else in it. Something deeper than Dean understood. Not dangerous, not bad, but imbued with meaning he didn’t have all the clues to decipher.

#spirit of the west #bonus content #alternate realities #ask #I hope this fragment brings something good to your day #what if spirit of the west could just go on for ever and ever and ever

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cas-skz · 1 year

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CURE FOR LONELINESS

Wooyoung x fem!reader

After the death of your father, you find comfort in a new member of his motorcycle club. Despite your uncles warnings, you can’t get enough of him.

| motorcycle gang au! | friends to lovers |

18+!! plz&thnx MDNI!!

Warnings: mentions of parent loss. mentions of a gunshot. lots of smut. chocking. unprotected sex. creampie. mouth fucking.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

writers note: this is basically brain rot that I’ve been working on for a couple of days. It’s safe to say I’m whipped stop it for Woo.

Enjoy!! cas xx

The club house was covered in a haze of smoke, loud laughter and chatting almost overtook the music playing. You stood behind the bar, quickly pouring out drinks for the gentlemen.

“Hey, Y/N! Can you go to the back and tap another keg?” Ana asked from down the bar.

You nodded, heading to the back and switching the hose to a new keg. You leaned up on the chair, tighten the screw when you suddenly felt hands on the back of your thigh, trailing up to the underline of your bum.

“You look good at this angle.” Woo cooed as one hand slipped between your legs, sending a chill up your spine.

His hand moved slowly, cupping your clothed pussy, his large fingers slowly sliding along your clit.

You bit your lip hard, trying to hold back your moan. “We can’t…” you say quietly, shoving his hand away as you jumped off the chair.

His arms caught you, pulling your hips into his. “Everyone’s too busy to notice.” Woo smirked, his breathe hot and liquor scented. His lips moved to your neck, where he placed soft wet kisses from your jaw to your ear. “Come on babes, I miss you.”

You could feel how hard Woo was thought his pants, his hands roamed your body as his lips worked on your neck, teeth nipping at your skin.

You practically grew up in the motorcycle club, your dad being a former president until he passed away. Your uncle has taken over his position, and Woo had joined a few weeks after.

You lost count of how many times your uncle told you to not get involved with him. You figured it was just to protect you, but the loneliness that came with grief had started a friendship with Woo, that turned into filling the emptiness with sex.

You couldn’t help but give in to him, a soft moan escaping your lips. You pushed him back a little, turning to quickly close and lock the door to the keg room. “You have 10 minutes.” You smirk, backing him into the chair and straddle his lap.

“I only need 5 with you.” Woo whispered, his lips roughly pressing into yours. You both quickly pulled your pants down just enough to have access, the red tip of his cock ran gently across your clit before deeply pushing inside.

Woo’s hand wrapped easily around your neck, squeezing as you leaned back, your hips slamming into his. “So tight,” he hissed, his other hand resting on your hip, both hands digging hard into your skin.

Your moans started to get louder as you felt your peak rapidly approaching, Woo’s cock slamming deep inside you.

You both came to a sudden stop when a gunshot ran out, the sound of fighting getting louder. You jumped off Woo’s lap, quickly pulling up your leggings as he did his pants, Woo placed another rough kiss on your lips. “I’m not done with you.”

You readjusted yourself before quickly rushing back to the bar, peeking around the corner as a group of men wrestled and another laughed at them. Of course it was a dumb false alarm, but everything had to be taken seriously.

The rest of the night felt slow. You and Woo occasionally would catch each others attention, practically eye fucking from different sides of the room.

“I’ll clean up Ana, you head out. Looks like you have your hands full.” You laugh, nodding your head towards her husband who was slumped over a table.

The crowd had cleared out, the members who were passed out being left behind. You had finished cleaning and had made your way to the back to start the dishwasher.

Woo’s hands creeped around your waist and his lips found their way to your neck again. “You look good as a house wife.”

You laugh, tilting your head slightly to give him more access to your neck. His hand slipped into your leggings, his fingers instantly finding your clit. “You’re soaking.” Woo purred, removing his hand and quickly shoving your pants down.

He spun you around quickly, lust filled eyes meeting each other as he kissed you gently, letting it linger before biting and pulling your lip.

“Woo, someone could walk in.” You say as your eyes follow him, lowering himself to your core. He propped your leg up on his shoulder, two fingers running along your clit before pushing inside. “Let them” Woo smirked, his tongue finding your clit.

You balled your hand in his dark hair, moaning his name as his tongue swirled and sucked at your bud, his fingers pumped your hole slowly.

“More” You beg, your eyes rolling back as his hand picked up speed. It didn’t take Woo very long to make you cum, quiet curses leaving your lips as your eyes fell back down to meet his.

His fingers worked their way from your entrance to your mouth, sliding in as your tongue swirled to collect your wetness. Woo’s lips found yours next, deeply kissing as his hands quickly swooped you up.

“You may look good in a kitchen, but I can’t fuck you properly in one.” He laughed, throwing you over his shoulder with ease.

“Hey!” You giggle, wiggling a bit in his grip as his hand slapped down on your ass. He practically threw you on his bed, the soft silk sheets cold under your body.

Woo quickly threw his shirt off, then tugged yours off. His eyes scanned your naked body, as he hovered over you. “You’re a work of art.”

You roll your eyes at him, your hand slowly sliding down his chest and abs, “says you” you say, your finger slowly tugging at his jeans. “Off”

Woo quickly pecked your lips as he climbed off the bed to kick his pants off and you crawled to your knees, leaving him a spot to sit.

You shoved his legs apart as you crawled up the bed towards his length, hands gently cupping and messaging his balls before wrapping around the base. “Surprised you held it this long.” You teased, bringing your lips to his red tip and gently sucking the leaking precum.

You worked your mouth down his shaft, tongue gliding from side to side as you took his full length into your mouth, gagging as you felt your reflux being hit. “Fuck, such a good girl.” Woo hissed.

Bobbing your head slowly, you look up to lock eyes with him once again. Woo brushed some hair from your face, using the same hand to control your head movements. His hips bucked up as you let out another gag, spit flying from the sides of your mouth as he pulled you roughly towards him. “You’re all fucking mine. You got that.”

“This pretty little mouth.” He said slowly, pulling you in for a kiss. “Mine.” He repositioned you both, laying you down on your back, his legs pushing yours apart as he trailed kisses to your breasts. Sucking slowly at the nipple. His lips and teeth worked to leave purple bruises on both breast, “Mine.”

Butterflies and tingles rang throughout your body. A feeling you hadn’t felt in year suddenly making you feel shy. “Stop” you laugh, placing a hand in his chest. “You can’t have me.” You teased.

Woo shook his head smirking, taking your hand and kissing your palm, down your wrist and to your neck. “Says who?” He whispered into your ear, his warm breath sending a chill down your spine. The tip of his cock started to rub slowly through your folds and over your clit.

Your nails dug deep into his back as he thrusted deeply inside, bottoming out as his lips found yours again. You couldn’t help but whimper and squirm slightly as your walls contacted around his still length. “Woo…” you gasp as his hips started to move ever so slowly.

“Just say it…” he whispers, bringing his lips to yours to kiss you deeply. He slowly slid his cock almost fully out before slamming it back inside you. “Say your mine.”

Woo’s lips continued to moved slowly against yours, his thrusts driving you crazy from how slow he was going. Everything felt electric, your body shook with pleasure, your mouth parting slightly as you curse loudly.

He started to pick up his pace, his hand wrapping around your neck as he looked deeply into your eyes.

Your hand gripped around his wrist, fingers gripping into his skin as you felt your walls start to contact, hips bucking as it quickly approached.

His smile is what did it. It drove you over the edge. You arched off the bed, his hand moving from your neck to the small of your back as you road out your orgasm. “Yours. All yours.”

Your lips found each other again, deeply kissing as he pulled you up, one hand in your hair and the other on your waist. You could feel his cock start to twitch as you came down, “fuck…” Woo cursed, pulling you in close and hiding in the nook of your neck. His body shook with yours as you felt his cum shoot deeply inside you.

You both held each other close, lips moving softly in unison. Woo pulled away a bit, cupping your face. “I’m gonna protect you. I’m gonna make sure you’re safe, that you’re happy.” He pecked your lips ever few words.

“You mean it?” You ask sincerely, leaning into his hand.

Woo nodded, smiling down at you. “I do. I promise.”

His limp member grew hard again inside you as his lips moved softly against yours. You rocked your hips slowly with his, your already filled pussy dripping down the sides of his thick cock.

Woo laid back on the bed, his cock bottoming out as you adjusted yourself on top. Your hands rested on his abs and you rode his cock, legs twitching from the overstimulation. “Come here. I want to hold you.” he hummed.

You rested your weak body on his chest as his hips thrusted upwards into you rapidly, arms wrapped tightly around you. Your nails dug into his chest as you cursed and moaned, your eyes flicking up to look at him, who’s eyes were on you.

Woo flashed his sweet smile again, pulling you towards him to kiss your lips. You felt his cock start to twitch and firm inside of you, his warm cum filling your insides again. It threw you into your own orgasm, body shaking again as he slammed a few last thrusts into you.

The kiss softened as he pulled out, a pair of muffled moans mixed in between. You slid up a bit more on Woo, feeling your combined juices leaking out as you deepened the kiss.

His fingers ran up and down your spine as you settled onto his chest, your breathing calming and eyes fluttering closed. You still has butterflies and tingles running through your body.

You sighed softly as reality set back in, and you realized where you were. The two of you usually just went at each other in different hiding spots. The late night conversations you had were spent on the roof.

You started to move, but Woo’s arms pulled you back. “Don’t go…” he whispered, “Please…stay with me.” He kissed the top of your head as you settled back down, listening to his heart beat.

After a while, the two of you finally pulled yourselves from the bed, Woo guiding you to the bathroom and into the shower. You giggled and kissed the whole time, Woo not taking his eyes off yours as the hot water washed over you both.

It had been so long since you felt sincere happiness and while it scared you, it also made you feel human again.

Exiting the shower, Woo quickly wrapped you both in a towel, drying you off first before himself. You skipped back to the bedroom, grabbing Woo’s shirt from the ground and throwing it on before jumping into bed. Woo joined seconds later, getting himself comfortable before pulling you in close. He placed kisses on top of your head, his hand rubbing your arm gently.

“Does this mean we’re dating?” Woo asked,

You looked up at him, poking his nose and smiling, “I think you have to take me on an actual date for us to be dating.” You teased.

Woo laughed, squeezing you gentle. “Well, what are you doing tomorrow?”

“Waking up in a cute guys bed.” You yawned.

“And going on a date with him?”

“And going on a date with him.” You confirm.

#was I gonna as more seeex #yup #hope u like #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez au #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x y/n #wooyoung x you #ateez x you #ateez x y/n #ateez #tw // death

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fanfictionalraven · 1 month

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Piece by Piece Pt. 10

Title: Piece By Piece Pt. 10

Summary: The aftermath of being taken by the angels.

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Castiel, Original Character

Word Count: 2,937

Warnings: Vomitting, angst

Author’s Note: This story was originally posted by myself under the account Winchestersgirl92. It was published in 2017.

Read Piece by Piece Pt. 9 here.

Dean continues to drive through the day, stopping for food and gas. He tells Sam what Zachariah had told him and why they’d created the alternate reality. Later in the afternoon, M.K. falls asleep spread across the front seat between yourself and Dean. Her head is resting on his leg and her legs on yours. Dean’s fingers are running through her curls gently as you run a hand over her calf.

All of a sudden, you feel the nausea start up out of nowhere and groan, laying your head back against the seat. You squeeze your eyes closed, trying to fight back the sick feeling. The car was currently flying down a back road in the middle of nowhere, no bathrooms in sight.

“Y/N? You okay?” Dean asks, glancing over at you. You shake your head slowly.

“Pull over,” you tell him, eyes still closed. Your main goal right now was to not throw up all over his car. You can feel the car steadily slow down and you carefully push M.K.’s legs off of your own.

Before the car even comes to a complete stop, you clamber out the door. You manage to get a few feet away before your lunch decides to make its reappearance. You hit your knees, bracing yourself against the ground. Two hands are on you a second later, one holding your hair and the other rubbing soothing circles into your back.

Once your stomach is empty, you sit up. Dean hands you a rag and a bottle of water he’d found in the car and you thank him before wiping at your mouth. You unscrew the lid on the bottle and drink about half of it before sighing. Your eyes meet Dean’s and you find his full of that same concern he’d always had for you.

“Are you really pregnant?” He asks. You nod, watching his face. “Did you know before?”

“I’m three months now. I’ve known for about two,” you confess, your voice raw from your previous heaving. He frowns and shakes his head quickly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks. You sigh and run the rag across your sweat-damp forehead.

“You haven’t been home since Valentine’s Day, Dean. And I wasn’t going to tell you over the phone,” you tell him. His face falls as the realization hits.

“Valentine’s Day. That’s what you were going to tell me,” he says. You nod and he hangs his head with a sigh. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Sorry?” You ask, panic rising up in your chest. He looks back at you and his eyes widen.

“No!! Not – not sorry about the baby. I could never – I mean, it’s really terrible timing but – that would be like regretting M.K. or being with you and – there’s no way I could ever do that,” he says, reaching out and brushing his fingers against your cheek. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately. Things have been crazy and when Cas showed up at the house like that – I thought staying away from you would keep you safer. I guess I was wrong.”

“Well it wasn’t exactly like we spent the last three weeks being tortured,” you start. “Penthouse apartment. Fancy private school.”

“Pregnant yoga and no caffeine?” He asks, trying not to laugh. You narrow your eyes at him.

“Yea, that was the torture,” you say. “And don’t go getting any wild ideas.” He laughs now and helps you to your feet.

“So was the nausea this bad with M.K.?” He asks. You shake your head as the two of you make your way back to the car.

“I actually got lucky with M.K. I was never sick. This time around though,” you trail off and sigh. Dean nods and presses a kiss to your temple before opening the passenger side door for you.

“Well it’s your turn to get some rest,” he says. You look into the car and see that M.K. is now laid out across the backseat, curled into Sam’s side. You smile and slide in, Dean closing the door behind you. He comes around and gets back in. “C’mon,” he says, patting the seat between you. You lay across the front seat, your head coming to rest on his leg. He lays his arm across your side. You quickly drift off to sleep as his fingers brush lightly against your stomach.

You wake up sometime later, groggy and confused. You don’t remember moving from the car to a bed yet here you were on a comfortable mattress with a blanket draped over you. Sitting up slowly, you look around. It was an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. Willing yourself to remain calm, you push yourself up from the bed.

The cool air meets your legs and you look down to find them bare. You’re only wearing a grey t-shirt that you immediately recognized as one of Dean’s. A pair of jeans are sitting folded on the dresser across the room. They look brand new you realize as you pull them on quickly. A perfect fit. You sigh, thankful for the familiar denim after three weeks of wearing nothing but dresses and skirts.

Opening the door, you’re greeted by a familiar scent. The smell of fresh cooked bacon wafts up the staircase to you. You can hear M.K. giggling as you slowly make your way down to the rest of the strange house. Following the sound and scent, you find the kitchen. An older man in a vest and baseball cap is standing over the stove, frying up the bacon. M.K. is seated at the table behind him, a wide grin spread across her face.

“Momma!! You’re awake!!” She exclaims. The man looks at you and smiles warmly. “Look!! Grandpa Bobby is real!!” Bobby. Of course. The man who was like a father to Dean and Sam. Any panic you had been feeling quickly subsides. You knew this was a man you could trust even if you’d never actually met him.

“I don’t know why she’s calling me that,” Bobby mumbles, a blush creeping into his cheeks. He turns, setting a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her. You hear a door open and a moment later Dean comes into the room, wiping grease from his hands.

“Hey!! Morning, Gorgeous,” he says, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. “How you feeling?” He asks. You shrug your shoulders slightly.

“Confused. Hungry,” you tell him. He laughs and pulls you to a chair at the table. You sit down and Bobby sets a plate in front of you as well. “Thank you.” He smiles and nods. Dean’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder.

“Well since your actually conscious now,” Dean says, winking down at you. “This is Bobby. Bobby, this is Y/N my…” He stops and you look up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Ummm.”

“Girlfriend, Dean. She’s your girlfriend,” Sam says from the adjacent room. You look over and find him sitting at a desk, several books open in front of him. M.K. giggles as she takes a bite of bacon.

“Just girlfriend?” Bobby asks. You look at him quickly and he smiles, glancing at your left hand. Your eyes widen and shoot to the diamond ring and silver band still on your finger.

“You changed my clothes but didn’t take these off?” You ask, looking up at Dean. He rubs the back of his neck and stammers.

“Well — Ummm — I just thought — you might like to keep them,” he says. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“If this is a proposal it isn’t a very good one,” you tell him. His eyes widen and he shakes his head quickly.

“No!! I’m not — I mean, not that I wouldn’t — but this isn’t —,” he stops. Sam starts to snigger and Dean shoots a glare at him. You smile and reach over, taking Dean’s hand.

“Calm down. I’m kidding,” you tell him. He smiles now and squeezes your hand.

“Dean,” Sam says, his voice shifting from its early teasing tone. You all look over and find Cas standing in the middle of the room. Dean drops your hand and immediately moves to stand in front of you. Bobby makes his way around the table, shielding M.K.

“The hell do you want? You swore you’d keep them out of this,” Dean says, pointing an accusatory finger at Cas. The angel furrows his brow and shakes his head.

“I did not know of Zachariah’s plan. If I had, I would have warned you. I do not wish harm on any of you. Especially Y/N, Mary Katherine, or your unborn child,” he says. Dean’s hands clench at his sides.

“What do you want, Cas?” He asks.

“I came to apologize to all of you,” he says, glancing at you as well. Dean crosses his arms and shakes his head. “I didn’t know, Dean. I swear. I am sorry.” The room is quiet as you glance at each of the men. M.K. stands from her chair and takes a step around Bobby.

“I forgive you,” she says, starting towards him. Bobby’s hand shoots out, landing on her shoulder. She shrugs him off and takes a few more steps.

“Mary Katherine,” you call to her quickly. She stops dead in her tracks. You very rarely ever use her full name like that and it always gets her attention. But she isn’t looking at you now with the pitiful look she always does when she’s in trouble. She’s almost surprised.

“You always say when someone apologizes and they really mean it that we have to be the bigger person and forgive them even if we don’t want to,” she says. You stare at her as she continues towards Cas. He looks down at her, curiously. “Do you really mean it?”

“I — I do. I’m sorry, Mary Katherine,” he says. She smiles and wraps her arms around his legs.

“M.K. I’m only Mary Katherine when I’m in trouble,” she tells him. You all stare in disbelief as a small smile spreads across the angel’s face. He reaches down and pats her head awkwardly before she lets him go and returns to her breakfast. Dean sighs and shakes his head.

“They’re staying here for now with Bobby. If anything happens to them again, Cas, I swear there isn’t a force on this earth that will stop me from killing every last one of you,” he tells him. Cas nods once then disappears. You look down at your plate. There’s a tense silence before Dean breaks it with a chuckle. “Why’d you have to go and raise her to be such a good person?” Dean asks, looking back at you.

“What do you mean we’re staying here with Bobby?” You ask, ignoring his question as you look up at him. He sighs, as though he’d been dreading this conversation, then kneels down next to you.

“I gotta keep you two — you three safe,” he says, his hand reaching towards your stomach. You swat at his hand quickly and he arches an eyebrow at you.

“For how long?” You ask. He shrugs.

“However long it takes,” he says. You stare at him and shake your head slightly.

“We can’t just stay here, Dean. We’ve got lives to get back to. Lives we’ve already missed three weeks of. I may not even have a job to go back to but she has to go back to school,” you tell him.

“I can’t leave you unprotected. Bobby can keep you safe while I’m out trying to stop all this,” he says, rising to his feet. You frown and look up at him.

“No offense to Bobby but Cas just came and went like it was nothing. You really think an army of angels couldn’t do the same if they wanted us bad enough?” You ask, standing from your chair. Dean crosses his arms over his chest, determined. You glance over at M.K. to find she’s watching you both closely.

Sighing, you leave the kitchen and quickly make your way back up the stairs to the bedroom you’d been in earlier. You close the door and lean against it for a moment, trying to collect your thoughts. Your phone is sitting on the table next to the bed. You make your way across the room and grab it, quickly finding Lily’s name in your contacts. It rings twice before your best friend’s voice comes over the line.

“Hey!! Didn’t expect to hear from you. How’s the vacation?” She asks. You stare at the wall in front of you.

“Va – vacation?” You ask, your voice trembling. You hear Lily laugh on the other end.

“Yea? Dean whisked you two away suddenly for a family vacation. You left me a voicemail saying you were gonna be gone for a while,” she says. You fall onto the edge of the bed, your hand over your mouth. “Y/N? You okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m – ummm – just checking in,” you tell her, fighting back tears. After a brief conversation, you set the phone aside again. Laying back on the bed, you run your hands over your face. You hear someone walking up to the door and it opens then closes again. A second later, the bed dips beside you. “I called Lily. Everyone thinks we’re on vacation apparently.” You look over at Dean and he nods slightly. “But we have to get back Dean. She has to get back to school.”

“Your lives are more important, Y/N,” he says. You sigh and sit up.

“The only difference in us staying here is that Bobby is in danger. And I am not going to be the reason he gets killed. I’m not,” you tell him. “We’re going home.”

“Well I don’t know how you’re getting there cause I’m not taking you,” he says. You look at him quickly.

“That’s kidnapping, Dean,” you say. He rolls his eyes, rising from the bed. “Fine. I’ll ask Sam or Bobby to do it.”

“They wouldn’t dare,” he says. You stare at him-, your anger building quickly.

“Then we’ll take the bus because we are not staying,” you tell him defiantly. He shakes his head as he watches you.

“I can’t let you leave,” he says. “That’s my daughter and you’re carrying my baby and you’re my –.” He stops short and you look back at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Your what, Dean? You can’t even say it!! That’s what the real torture was, these past three weeks. Hearing you say that you love me knowing I’ll never hear it again now!! You don’t even tell M.K. that you love her!!” You snap at him. “So don’t try and give me some crap about how you want to keep us safe because you care about us or we’re your family. You want to keep us safe to keep your conscious clear. So, no thank you. We don’t need your protection. We’re leaving.” You turn for the door quickly.

“And the baby?” Dean asks, his voice unnaturally calm. You freeze, your hand on the handle.

“I raised M.K. for 10 years without you. What’s another one?” You ask, your words biting. You pull the door open and march down the stairs. Three pairs of eyes land on you as you step into the kitchen, Sam having joined the other two now. “Would you be willing to take us to the closest bus stop, Sam?” He frowns and looks down at the table. You nod and turn to the other man. “Bobby, please?” He sighs and nods, rising from the table. “M.K. tell Uncle Sam bye. We’re leaving.”

“But Momma,” she starts.

“Mary Katherine,” you snap. She hangs her head and jumps down from the chair. She slowly walks over to Sam and he wraps her up in a tight hug.

“Bye Uncle Sam,” she tells him quietly. He kisses her forehead then lets her go.

“Bye M.K.,” he says. You put your hand on her back, guiding her to the door as Bobby picks up the keys to his truck.

“What about Daddy?” She asks, looking up at you. There’s a sadness in her eyes as though she knows what’s happening.

“I’m right here, Baby girl,” he says. You turn and find Dean standing on the steps about halfway down. She runs up to him and he picks her up in his arms. “Listen to your mom, kid.”

“Aren’t you coming home too?” She asks, her voice thick with tears. You frown and avert your eyes quickly. Dean kisses her hair and sets her down.

“Be good,” he says, avoiding her question. She comes back down the stairs, dejected, and you take her hand. You glance up at Dean and find him staring at the floor. Bobby opens the door and you pull M.K. from the house quickly.

Dean squeezes his eyes closed when the door closes then sits down on the step beneath him. Sam comes into front hall and leans against the door frame, crossing his arms. Dean runs his hands over his face and lets out a sigh.

“That was a stupid plan,” Sam says. Dean shrugs slightly, looking back at his brother.

“Worked didn’t it?” He asks. Sam shakes his head in disbelief.

“How’d you know she’d leave?” He asks. Dean smiles a little and looks at his hands.

“I love her. You think I don’t know what would piss her off enough to make her leave me?” He asks. Sam shakes his head again and goes back into Bobby’s study, leaving Dean sitting on the steps, staring at the silver band that was still on his left hand.

Read Piece by Piece Pt. 11 here.

#fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #supernatural #spn #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #dad!dean

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hells-plaid-angel · 2 years

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In theory, if Cas ever did realise he was in love with Dean pre-deal with The Empty and actually decided to shoot his shot, I’d imagine a string of hilarity and miscommunication would ensue. There’s no way Cas would try to flirt with Dean if he thought it’d be received badly, but every now and again, Dean gives him just enough hope he thinks maybe it’s possible Dean likes him back.

Say Cas shows up unexpectedly and Dean’s doing their movie night alone since Cas was away, on some plot-relevant side quest. Cas arrives back unannounced because it’s movie night and what he’s doing can wait a day. Dean’s too thick to realise Cas has come back for him, and royally puts his foot in his mouth by asking why Cas is there, making the angel feel like he shouldn’t be because the course of true love never did run smoothly and when given the opportunity Dean will screw himself over when it comes to affection.

Cas isn’t sure where they stand and wonders if he should stay and watch the film or leave. After awkwardly standing beside Dean’s armchair, watching the screen for longer than what would be deemed socially acceptable, Dean lets out a huff and says, ‘Just sit down,’ meaning, of course, for Cas to sit beside him in what Dean’s deemed ‘Cas armchair’. Cas takes Dean’s words literally and plonks down on the arm of Dean’s chair, smacking their shoulders together and settling in.

The thing is, Dean lets him. He might grumble, but he doesn’t get Cas to move. He’s had a long night, having also returned from a hunt hours before and he’s beat. Before Cas knows it, Dean’s face is smooshed up against his shoulder and he’s open-mouthed snoring. Cas still thinks he’s the most beautiful human he’s ever seen and is in awe because Dean’s being vulnerable with him. He knows the man has trouble sleeping, plagued by dreams of Hell and hunts. Cas knows Dean doesn’t sleep with just anyone, even when he has casual sex, he rarely stays long after the act, so Cas looks down at the sleeping man and for the first time he thinks, ‘maybe’. Maybe Dean likes him back. He has no idea what to do with that possibility. He sits there quietly for the rest of the night because Dean’s an angry sleeper (like a bear) and Cas isn’t going to wake him up.

He decides to tread lightly and toy with the idea of trying to flirt with Dean, without overtly flirting with Dean. He has no idea how to do this. After all his years on earth, there are still a lot of things that confuse him. While he and Dean are on a hunt sometime later, they pull over to a gas station. When Dean’s paying Cas mindlessly flips through the magazine stumbling on some shitty Cosmopolitan article about romance and flirting. They mention one way to show you are interested in someone is by showing curiosity in their likes and dislikes.

So for the rest of the journey, Cas becomes almost insufferable with questions. He knows Dean’s top 13 favourite Led Zeppelin songs, but is Led Zeppelin Dean’s favourite band? What are Dean’s top 13 favourite bands? What is Dean’s favourite number? Does he have a favourite colour? Why is that his favourite colour? He rattles off questions for the entirety of their 14-hour trip cross country and Dean is confused as hell but decides to humour Cas because he does love talking about bands and movies, plus it’s not like anyone’s ever taken so much of an interest in him.

Sometime towards the end of the trip, Dean realises he has no clue what Cas’ favourite anything is- do angels even have favourites? Wasn’t that meant to be the whole thing about angels? All men are created equal and all that. Still, Dean asks. For the most part, Cas doesn’t have answers. He’s not sure who his favourite band is, though he can hesitantly say a few songs he likes better than others. It’s like they discover his favourite things together, unearthing them. Cas says with conviction his favourite colour is green and when Dean asks why he simply says, ‘Because it reminds me of you,’ and moves on. Dean goes silent for a long time after that but Cas is still left thinking that maybe Dean could love him. After all, he showed interest in Cas’ likes and dislikes as the magazine suggested.

Something Cas learned from Dean’s movies was that humans showed affection through nicknames, strange terms of endearment that reminded them of sugary foods or woodland animals. Dean reminded Cas of neither, so he was unsure what kind of word to use to show his affection. Dean shortened his name. Perhaps this was his way of using a term of endearment, maybe Cas had missed some sign and should have given Dean a nickname of his own. In the end, he settles for something in his mother tongue, because he’s better at expressing himself in Enochian.

He uses a word for Dean which is both very intense and oddly specific, something that translates roughly to ‘Evergreen lover, formed of star ash’. Like a golden retriever, after having the stilted cacophony of consonants and vowels thrown in his direction for long enough Dean simply shrugs his shoulders and answers to the name. I’m talking a name that trembles like a sub-bass and causes stray dogs to howl and Dean just looks up of a morning from his bowl of Fruit Loops and goes, ‘oh yeah that’s me. Mornin’ Sunshine’. Bonus points if others around him know exactly what the name means, other angels, demons, maybe even Sam when he gets curious and looks through the bunker’s archives for an Enochian Dictionary.

After all this, Cas is no closer to working out if Dean harbours affection towards him or not. So after some exasperated brainstorming, Cas decides to meet Dean where he’s at and attempts to express affection the way he knows Dean does. He cooks Dean’s breakfast and makes his coffee every morning because Dean expresses his love through security, caring for others and he especially loves food. It should be noted the bacon is burnt, the egg is raw and the coffee tastes like dishwater, but each morning Dean gives Cas a goofy, lopsided grin and thanks him. He’s grateful, Cas realises but he still has no idea if Dean’s in love with him.

With his one last-ditch effort, Cas decides to try physical touch. Dean’s a tactile creature. He loves touch. So Cas tries to give it to him. He rests his hand on his shoulder or his side as he walks past Dean. If they are parting ways Cas pulls Dean into a hug. He’s stunned at first, but he lets it happen and even gets used to it after a while, so Cas gets more brazen. He wraps his foot around Dean’s ankle when they sit together at the map table. He pushes his palm into Dean’s when they’re sitting alone in their armchairs for movie night and that’s what finally pushes Dean over the edge.

“Look man, I know you’re not human and you don’t get how stuff works but you can’t do junk like that. It’ll give people the wrong idea,” Dean would warn because his self-loathing, self-deprecating, still very closeted self would never in a million years dare to let himself think Cas knows what he’s doing.

“And what is the wrong idea?” Cas would ask.

“You know, dude. That you like me. More than a friend like me,” Dean would explain and Cas would give him the most world-wearied, withering look and sigh, “That is very much the idea I’ve been trying to get across,” He’d explain.

And Dean would need about an hour for his brain to stop short-circuiting, long enough for him to reply,

“Oh.”

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octoberclidan · 11 months

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We're Gonna Look After You

Request: Hello I absolutely in love with your fics especially the platonic ones. May I request another one for TFW? Y/n is a kid with powers like scarlet witch and after being possessed by Amara she develops some PTSD and starts to be more ruthless in hunts and with the main villains. TFW is there to make y/n see herself as the good and joyfull kid she was before.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester x Reader, Castiel x Reader (all platonic)

Note: I only write readers as adults so the reader here doesn't have a specified age but is 18+. Dean refers to her as 'kid' though since he's Dean.

Story

[Y/N] woke up to shouting. Was that her name she heard? Her head hurt, there was a sharp pain in her temple. Her whole body ached, she felt exhausted. It was dark, there was no light wherever she was. Or maybe there was, were her eyes closed? She couldn't tell, she could only feel pain. The shouting was getting louder, it definitely sounded like her name. It was too loud, her ears were hurting, she was shaking. Was she crying? She felt lost, empty, dark. Her hands cupped her ears, trying to block out the shouting. She felt herself rocking back and forth, her knees pressed to her forehead, and then she heard a second voice. This one was higher pitched, it sounded a bit more like a scream than a shout. It sounded a lot like her own voice. "Get out, get out, stop shouting, leave me alone". It screamed. It sounded too close, almost like it was inside her. Was it her voice? Was she the one screaming? She couldn't tell. She couldn't think properly, her mind was muddled.

Warm hands covered hers and gently pulled them away from her ears. The warm hands came with a warm voice, it wasn't shouting anymore. The voice was kind, soft, almost pleading. It was saying her name over and over again. She felt one of the hands drift down to her chin, and it pulled her face up and away from her knees. A thumb stroked her cheek and she leaned into it out of pure instinct. It felt familiar, like home. She stayed like that before taking a shaky breath and forcing her eyes open. Her vision was blurry from the tears, but she knew the face in front of her. She knew those green eyes, the freckles, the concern.

"Dean?" She whispered.

[Y/N] was taken in by Team Free Will a couple of years ago, when Dean was dealing with the Mark of Cain. They had found her on a hunt, being the lone survivor of a coven of witches who were into experimenting. She had been held captive for several years and had undergone countless experimental curses, spells, and potions by the coven, as a human test subject. Although they had kept others captive, [Y/N] was the only one still alive when Sam and Dean broke into the mansion she was being kept in. They found out very soon after that the experiments had left [Y/N] with certain powers and abilities; she could move objects with her mind, get inside people's heads, warp the reality around them.

She had no family, no friends, no money, and nowhere to go. Dean wasn't too happy with Sam's suggestion to take her in for awhile, since he said she was too dangerous, but he eventually gave in when he realised there wasn't anything else they could really do with her. They couldn't send her to Jody since her powers were too unpredictable, and they couldn't let her go off on her own without having her powers under control. Dean had suggested just killing her, complaining that they didn't have time to take her in, that dealing with the Mark was more important, but Sam had quickly talked him out of that, considering she hadn't actually hurt anyone with her powers.

Dean ended up warming up to her after several weeks. They were a lot alike and enjoyed the same music and movies. They became close friends, and she also became close with both Sam and Cas. She earned a permanent place in Team Free Will by helping Sam and Cas find a way to cure Dean after he became a demon, and also helped in removing the Mark, unknowingly setting Amara loose on the world. Although Amara had left with Chuck and everything seemed to be alright again, there were rumours that she was back. Several months back, Dean and [Y/N] were out following a lead when they found her. Her vessel had weakened, and it was struggling to hold her. After a brief altercation, Amara took [Y/N]'s body. [Y/N]'s strength and power only fuelled Amara, and Amara became more powerful than ever in her new vessel. She had disappeared only a few minutes after possessing [Y/N], leaving Dean alone. He was angry at himself for letting [Y/N] get taken, she had become extremely important to him ever since she'd helped him with the Mark. He knew they would get her back, he just didn't know how long it would take or what state she'd be in. He had seen people after they'd been possessed by demons and angels and archangels; a lot of them lost their minds or would die not long after. He couldn't bring himself to imagine what sort of damage the Darkness was doing to [Y/N]'s mind and body.

They all knew they needed to find her as soon as possible, it had already been too long. The issue was, they had no leads. Amara was silent. She hadn't done anything, or at least anything that would leave a trace. It was like she'd just disappeared again. When there were a sudden and quick series of disturbances in a nearby town, the boys raced over and burst into an abandoned wearhouse, where they finally found her.

"Yeah, it's me, I'm here". Dean studied her face, relief washing over him as he realised that it really was [Y/N], and Amara was nowhere to be seen. "Come here". He pulled her close to his chest and she closed her eyes. Everything was still too loud, too bright for her. She tried to focus on the sound of his heartbeat, which was steady beneath her ear. She grabbed a fistful of his flannel, scared that if she let go she would be lost again. "Sam, you drive". She heard him say before she was lifted up. She kept her grip on him and tucked her head into his shoulder as he carried her outside to the car. She was vaguely aware of a conversation happening between Dean and Sam, but she wasn't listening. She did note that Sam's voice sounded just as concerned as Dean's. The only word she understood was 'Cas', though she didn't hear his voice.

She started to become more aware of her surroundings once they were in the car. She could hear the rumble of the engine, and she was laying in the backseat with her head in Dean's lap. Their seemingly wordless conversation began to make sense. She kept her eyes closed, the brightness still too much, but she squeezed Dean's hand to tell him she was awake. He soothingly stroked her hair as she spoke to Sam.

"What did Cas say?" She heard Dean ask.

"He said he'll meet us back at the bunker. I don't know if there's much he can help with, it's not like she has a broken arm or a scratch, Dean. It's her mind. You know we might have to-"

"We're going to put her to bed. Cas can take a look at her and we'll go from there". Dean cut Sam off.

"Dean-"

"I don't want to hear it Sam, just drive".

"You know she's lost control of her powers before, and how bad it was, if she's not in the right headspace then she's dangerous Dean. We'll need to put her somewhere other than her bedroom".

"You want to tie her up? She's just spent the last few months trapped inside her body while God's sister possessed her. You've been possessed by a demon, an angel, even Lucifer, can you image how bad the fucking Darkness was? And you want to put her in a dungeon?"

"Of course I don't want to Dean". Sam snapped at him. "I care about her just as much as you do. I locked you up when you were a demon, you locked me up when I was high on demon blood, sometimes you have to do shit you don't want to do". [Y/N] felt the car come to a stop and heard a door slam before the door beside her and Dean opened.

"What the fuck are you doing? We need to get her back to the bunker!"

"We need to have this conversation".

"She needs rest".

"We don't know what she needs. She's been gone for months, possessed by possibly the most powerful thing there is all of existence".

"Sam-"

"Dean. Listen to me. You know what she can do, she could destroy an entire town easily, especially if her mind isn't right".

"Her mind is fine". Dean defended her and she heard Sam let out a sigh of frustration.

"What are you doing? You know she's dangerous". Sam scoffed. "You wanted to kill her when we first found her because of how dangerous she is. Now you won't take any precautions at all? I'm not saying we lock her up forever and throw away the key. I'm saying we keep her somewhere secure until we know that the damage is and how to fix it". [Y/N] heard Dean take a deep breath, about to continue the argument but she managed to speak up and interrupt them.

"It's okay, Sam's right". She whispered. She opened her eyes and looked up at Dean. His frustrated expression softened as he looked down at her, and he tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

"We're gonna look after you kid, okay?" He said.

"[Y/N], we're going to get you back to the bunker and Cas will take a look at you, get a better idea of what to do". She looked up to Sam as he spoke. She noticed that his eyes were red, clearly upset by the situation. She nodded at him before closing her eyes again and grabbing at Dean's flannel again. Sam closed the door and got back in to the driver's side and started the car up again. The boys didn't talk for the rest of the drive, and Dean gently tracing his thumb over [Y/N]'s cheek quickly sent her to sleep.

***

It was dark when she woke up; too dark. [Y/N] began to panic, it felt like she was suffocating in the darkness. She couldn't catch her breath, for a moment she thought she was still being possessed. She managed to gulp in a breath of air and when she let it out, it came out as a scream. Light flooded the room and she could just about make out a figure coming towards her. She quickly pushed herself backwards, her hand reaching behind her for support but finding none. He hand hit emptiness and she fell backwards, hitting her back on the cold concrete floor. Looking up she could see that she'd fallen off a bed. It wasn't her bed, this wasn't her bedroom, and as her vision adjusted she could see that this was a safe room in the bunker.

"Are you okay?" The figure crouched down next to her and Cas's face came into view. "Here, let me check". He reached his fingers out to her forehead but she quickly swatted them away. All of the sudden stimulation was agitating her, she wanted to quiet and darkness. She never thought she'd want to see the dark again after being trapped in it for so long, but she felt that she needed it.

"Don't touch me. I'm fine".

"Why won't you let me help you?" Cas looked confused, and hurt that she didn't want him to touch her. He had healed her on plenty of hunts before.

"I don't need your help".

"What's going on? I heard a scream". [Y/N] moved her gaze from Cas to see Dean standing in the doorway looking down at them. "Did you fall off the bed? Are you hurt?" He rushed over to them and knelt down beside Cas, about to reach his hand out to grab her shoulder.

"Get OFF". She shouted and pushed her hand out, using her abilities to force Dean back as he slid back against the floor until he hit the wall on the opposite side of the room. He stared at her in disbelief as her eyes glowed red, and Cas rushed towards him to check for injury. She curled up, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her head on top of them. "Please get out". She muttered.

"[Y/N]-" Cas started.

"I said, get out. Please". She didn't look up at him. She didn't want to see his face, or Dean's. She knew she would see hurt and disappointment on them, probably fear too, and she didn't want to see any of that. She didn't want to see anything.

***

She was left alone for the rest of the day. She knew the door was locked, and they'd probably put up every bit of warding that they could think of to keep her in, but she didn't try to get out. She didn't want to face any of them. She didn't know whether it was night or day with the lack of a window, and she didn't know how long she spent curled up on the floor, when she heard a buzzing. Slowly lifting her head, she looked around the room but couldn't see anything. She took a deep breath before forcing herself to get up, using the bed as support. She felt the vibrations under her fingers as she leaned on the bed, and she looked down to see her phone, and two texts from Sam. She unlocked her phone to read them.

9:34pm: Sam: Hey, I just want you to know that Dean and Cas aren't upset with you or anything, they get it, you just need space.

9:35pm: Sam: Also, if you need anything, just text or call. At least one of us will be in the bunker at all times. We're here if you need us. Love you.

She sighed and put the phone back on the bed. She felt frustrated, angry, but also strangely calm. The room was quiet, it was dark, and she was alone. She lay down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Why was she still alive? Why had Amara left? All she could remember was dark emptiness, for months, and then suddenly everything was bright and loud and Dean was there. Her body had been used for months, she had no idea what for, but she knew she needed to find Amara. She needed answers, and she needed revenge. Her mind wandered to different scenarios where she faced the Darkness again, and how that might play out. The scenarios slowly turned to dreams as she fell asleep.

***

[Y/N] stayed in the room for three days without contacting anyone. Cas had brought down food and water at regular intervals, but she never acknowledged him as he came or went. The brothers hadn't come down, probably thinking Cas was safest if she used her powers again, but both Sam and Dean had texted her to see if she wanted to talk, wanted to get out, or if she needed anything. She'd ignored them. When she woke up on the fourth day, she decided that she needed to get out and find Amara. The only way to do that was convince the guys that she was okay. So, she texted Sam that morning asking for him to come down and talk to her.

"Hey, I brought you some breakfast". Sam said he walked into the room. [Y/N] was sitting on the edge of the bed and she noticed how unsure Sam looked.

"Can you sit with me?" She asked, and the worry on his face changed to confusion, which he quickly caught and changed it to a smile.

"Yeah, sure, of course". He brought the tray over and sat down beside [Y/N]. She took the tray from him and started to eat.

"How... how are you?" Sam asked.

"I feel better. I don't remember anything, just dark and quiet, that's why I was kinda overwhelmed when you guys found me. Too much light and noise".

"That's understandable. So you don't remember anything at all?" He asked and she shook her head.

"No, one minute I was with Dean, we were fighting Amara, then nothing. For months, nothing. Then you found me".

"We looked for you, every single day [Y/N], I promise".

"I know". She smiled and him and reached over to place her hand on his. "I know".

"Do you wanna come back out? Dean and Cas are both out at the moment so it's just us. I can turn the lights down low if that would make it easier?"

"I'd like to go to my own room if that's okay? I'm okay with the light now I think".

"Yeah of course, come on, I'll walk with you". Sam stood up and offered [Y/N] his hand to help her up off the bed. "I'll clear up the food, don't worry about it". He smiled and opened up the door for them and walked her to her room in the bunker. When she got to her room she sat on her bed and started to look through her phone at all of the texts she'd been ignoring. "Is it okay if Dean or Cas come check in on you later? I know they've missed you. If you'd rather they wait a bit longer that's fine, just let me know either way". Sam said as he stood in her doorway.

"I think I just want to rest today, but maybe later this evening they could say hello?"

"Sure, got it. You need anything you just let me know". He offered her another smile before leaving and closing her door. [Y/N] sat back against the headboard and pulled her laptop over and opened it up. She was going to see if she could find anything that could point to where Amara had gone. She was going to get answers to her questions.

***

It was 11pm when Dean and Cas came knocking on her bedroom door. When she opened it up to them they were both smiling down at her, though she could tell they looked a bit uncomfortable, unsure of what they were going to be greeted with. "Hey Sweetheart, how are you doing?" Dean asked as she stood back from the door, letting them in.

"Just tired, but feeling more like myself".

"Could I take a look at you now?" Cas asked and she nodded, letting him press his fingers to her forehead. "You don't seem to have any physical injuries". He smiled at her.

"I'm really sorry for shouting at you before. And Dean, I'm really, really sorry for pushing you back like that. I hope you weren't hurt".

"Nah I was fine, don't worry about it. Sam said you were just feeling overwhelmed, it's all good". Dean said as he took a seat in the chair in the corner of her room. Cas sat down on the edge of her bed and she sat down beside him. It was quiet at first, but then Cas brought up the fact that he'd been up in heaven the previous day, and [Y/N] listened intently for any mention of Amara or her whereabouts. He said that the angels suspected she was hiding away back in Hell, off earth and away from prying eyes. She was happy to get a lead, but she tried to keep it off her face to avoid the boys suspecting her intentions. It was nearing midnight when she yawned, genuinely tired, and realised that she had been leaning her head against Cas's shoulder for awhile now.

"Looks like you should be getting some sleep. Come on Cas, let's let her get some rest". Dean said as he stood up. He walked over to them and bent down, pressing his lips to the top of her hair. "Night [Y/N], we'll see you in the morning". Cas wrapped an arm around her and gave her a light squeeze before standing up and following Dean out of the room. Once they were gone, [Y/N] began getting dressed into clothes more suitable for hunting, and she packed her bag with summoning supplies. She knew she'd have to wait a bit longer before she could sneak out, but at least now she had a plan and knew how to get some more information; Crowley.

***

At 3am, [Y/N] snuck out of the bunker. She was met by a sleeping Dean who was passed out at the map table, a bunch of papers and a laptop spread out in front of him; he'd been looking for Amara too. She managed to make it out without disturbing him, and she walked away from the bunker. She needed to find a secluded area where she could summon Crowley without anyone seeing. She didn't go too far, maybe walking for 30 minutes or so into the forest area behind the bunker. She came to a small clearing and began to lay out the supplies she'd brought. She was finishing up the incantation when she heard him.

"Well, this is a surprise".

"Crowley".

"[Y/N], tell me, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Where is Amara?"

"Last I heard, hitching a ride in you".

"She left me days ago, you can't tell me you're not aware of that. I know you had to be keeping tabs on her".

"This is the first I'm hearing of it". He shrugged and smirked at her. "Where is the rest of your tragic team? You're out here in the middle of the night on your own, after spending months possessed? Can't image any of them would be happy with that". He clicked his tongue as he shook his head disapprovingly at her.

"I can handle being out on my own, you know I can knock you down with a flick of my wrist". She glowed her red eyes at him and he glowed his back in return.

"What the fuck are you doing out here?" [Y/N] froze and Crowley smiled, glancing above her head.

"Hello Squirrel".

"Crowley? Seriously [Y/N]?"

"I need to get answers Dean". She folded her arms and turned her back to Crowley to face Dean.

"I get that, I do, trust me, but we work together. You can't go wandering off on your own in the middle of the night to summon demons in the middle of nowhere".

"We were just having a nice conversation, a catch up really". Crowley said and Dean glared at him and pointed a finger at him.

"You shut up. Go back to Hell, be useful for once and find Amara". He moved his finger then to point at [Y/N]. "You come back to the bunker with me now, we need to talk".

"What, am I in trouble? I can take care of myself".

"Yeah? And if you come across Amara what exactly are you going to do to stop her from possessing you again? You couldn't do shit last time".

[Y/N] didn't have an answer to this. She just rolled her eyes before turning back around to Crowley, but he was gone. She sighed and began to collect her stuff and put it back into her bag, avoiding Dean's gaze as she did so. They walked back to the bunker in silence, and were met with Cas and Sam once they got back.

"Where did you go?" Sam asked as they walked down the steps.

"She decided to meet with Crowley". Dean explained as [Y/N] attempted to walk straight past them and to her room. She was promptly stopped by Sam's hands on her shoulders.

"Are you okay?" He looked down at her and she was surprised to see no trace of anger, only concern.

"Yeah, I just want to go to bed, so please excuse me". She shrugged Sam's hands off her and left the three of them standing there while she went to her room. She was sure they were going to stay up for awhile talking about her, but she just shut her door and got into her bed, trying to push everything out of her head so she could sleep.

***

The next few weeks were tough. She was on lockdown, at least one of the boys were always either in the same room as her, or by the entrance of the bunker. There was no way she was getting out again on her own. She hadn't actually left the bunker at all since her meeting with Crowley. She had taken to sitting in her room a lot, sifting through online reports of unusual activity, or looking through the bunker's archives under the supervision of Sam, or occasionally being forced to watch a movie or Netflix with either Dean or Cas. She also tended to see at least one of them every night when she'd wake up screaming, usually from a nightmare where she felt like she was drowning or suffocating in darkness.

She wasn't actively avoiding them during the day, she'd had conversations with each of them, and as time went on she was talking to them more and more, but she needed to get out of the bunker. One morning when she was having breakfast with all of them in the kitchen, she was relieved to hear a 'so get this' from Sam as he scrolled through something on his laptop. He read out an article which sounded very much like a werewolf, only an hour or so from the bunker. Dean had asked Cas to stay behind with her while he and Sam went out on the case, but she immediately argued and said she needed to get out and hunt something. After a long conversation, they eventually all agreed to let her go with them on the condition that she always stay within eyesight of one of them.

***

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked, his grip tight on the steering wheel. He was driving the Impala with Sam beside him, and [Y/N] and Cas in the back. They were all covered in blood and dirt from the hunt, which turned out to be three werewolves. "I'm talking to you [Y/N]". Dean glared at her in the rearview mirror when she didn't say anything.

"What was what?"

"Oh please, don't play dumb with me. You know what, you basically let that werewolf sink its claws into your shoulder".

"No I didn't, it caught me off guard".

"You literally have powers, you can sense everything around you, there's no way you would let a wolf get that close to you if you weren't distracted". Sam said as he turned around in his seat to face her. "We shouldn't have brought you out with us, it was too soon".

"I'm not a child". She glared at him.

"Could've fooled me". Dean said and she moved her glare from Sam to the back of Dean's head.

"I saw you freeze. You saw the werewolf coming for you and you didn't do anything". Cas said. [Y/N] swallowed nervously, afraid her tough exterior wasn't as convincing as she thought it was, and looked out of her window, avoiding eye contact with any of them. She couldn't argue with Cas after he'd just healed her.

"[Y/N], we're just worried about you. The nightmares, the obsessive researching, you're not yourself. We miss you, we just want you to be okay".

"I'll be okay when we find and kill Amara". She said, not taking her eyes off the window but she could tell they were exchanging looks behind her.

"Let us help you. Let us be there for you". Sam said, but she didn't reply. They didn't try to talk to her for the rest of the ride home.

***

The darkness was back. [Y/N] was drowning, there was no light, no way to know which way was up. She couldn't find a way out, she was stuck. She held her breath for as long as she could, her heart beating fast, tears streaming down her face. Her lungs were burning when she finally opened her mouth, a scream escaping. She struggled to catch her breath when she realised she was no longer in complete darkness, but she could see the desk in the corner of her room, the glow of her laptop on it. She was in her bed, she was safe for now. Her door opened and Sam rushed in, going straight to her bedside.

"Hey, hey, breathe. You're okay, you're in the bunker, you're safe". He pulled her towards him and she grabbed his shirt, still crying and struggling to breathe. "Match my breathing, take some nice deep breaths, come on, I've got you". He ran his hand up and down her back slowly. She slowly regained control over her breathing. Normally at this stage after a nightmare she would urge them to leave her alone, convincing them that she was okay. This time however, the tears didn't stop. She cried into Sam's shirt and he held her, just letting her get it out.

"I-I need y-your help". She sniffed and kept her grip on him tight.

"You have my help. And Dean's, and Cas'. We're here for you, okay? You're safe with us. We'll get you your answers, but we need to do it the right way". She nodded into his shoulder. They stayed like that for some time, Sam continuing to whisper comforting words in her ear and stroke her back while she gradually stopped crying. When she pulled back from him he wiped her eyes. "Come back to us. We need you too". She nodded at him. She missed the old version of herself too. She missed enjoying movie nights with Dean, enjoying documentaries with Cas, enjoying research and working out with Sam. She missed going on hunts and working together. It had all felt like a chore ever since she got back. She had been treating everything like an unnecessary distraction from looking for Amara. She missed who she was.

"Hey kiddo". She looked up to see Dean in her doorway, Cas standing behind him.

"Hey". Her voice was quiet. She stood up, Sam supporting her, and she walked over to Dean. She briefly made eye contact with him before leaning into him and burying her face in his chest, arms wrapping around his waist. He hugged her back, one hand pressing onto her back and the other on her head. He kissed the top of her head.

"I've missed you". He murmured into her hair.

"I'm sorry".

"We'll help you, but you've got to work with us".

"I will".

"Good". Dean cleared his throat when she pulled away from him, looking up she could see his eyes were watery. Cas walked around him and he pulled her into a hug of his own.

"I'm sorry I've been distant Cas". She said.

"It's okay, maybe we can watch that new bee documentary tomorrow?" He asked, his eyes full of hope.

"Yeah, that would be nice". She looked from him to Dean, and from Dean to Sam. "I'm really lucky to have all of you".

"We're lucky to have you too". Cas said and he tightened his hug. It was going to be some time before she was back to being her old self again, but she was ready to try. She felt loved, and she decided that was enough for now, the revenge could wait. She knew they wanted Amara gone just as much as she did, and she knew they worked best when they all worked together. It would be a long journey, but tomorrow at least would be better, a step in the right direction.

The end

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heisendaddysimpswritings · 2 years

Text

『Heat, Hunger and Desire』

summary: you and cole spend a hot summer day in your little home, not expecting the heat to take over both of your minds

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pairing: Cole Cassidy x fem!Reader

type: nsfw | one-shot

tw: smut, daddy kink, oral (m receiving), biting kink, cas being a little dip shit

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"Shit, 's so hot!"

Your boyfriend let himself fall down on the couch, sipping every last bit of the cold delicious water out of his glass, pouting when it got empty quicker than he wanted it to.

"With pointing out the obvious the heat won't dissappear, Cole..."

"Shut yer mouth. 's too hot for ya comments."

You chuckled. Normally he'd say something back and make fun of you but the heat seemed to even knock his brain out, not only his body. Speaking of later, you couldn't help but stare the whole time at his chest and the outlines of his dick in boxers. It was surely a sight to see Cole almost completely naked. And even though you were turned on by the sight the heat took all your energy away to do anything.

What you didn't noticed though were his own eyes lingering on the curves and features of your body. Only the sight of your bra-less breasts in that tight tanktop of yours and your thighs getting sqeeuzed by your shorts made him already rock hard. Despite the heat his appetite for you didn't disappear. Cassidy swallowed hard as he watched you lean forwards to grab your glass, your breasts jiggling with the motion of your body.

Oh how he'd love to rip that shirt and shorts of yours apart and ravish you right there on the couch. Bending you over one of the arm rests and pound his cock into your tight hole. But the sudden growling of your stomach snatched him out of his sinful thoughts.

" 's something? Ya hungry?"

You nodded.

"Haven't eaten anything since breakfast and that was a couple of many hours ago."

"I’m hard and yer hungry, which ya think's more important right now?"

You were taken by surprise as he spoke those words.

"My hunger, Cole, to be honest with you-"

"Incorrect, the right answer's my cock. Let’s kill two birds with one stone."

Your yelp as you felt his hands reach for your hips and heaved you up onto his lap, his hard cock pressing against your core, almost sounded like a moan.

"Atta girl."

You blushed at his words. Both of you knew how much Cassidy loved it when you're vocal and let him hear how much you're enjoying what he's doing.

As you looked at him you couldn't help but get turned on by the lust that had taken over his eyes and the cocky smirk plastering his face.

Another moan escaped your throat as you felt him moving your hips over his, his cock rubbing delicately over your clothed private parts.

"Such a good girl. Let daddy hear how much ya enjoying his cock."

You felt your knees getting weak and your core becoming even more wet as you heard him say those words. He exactly knew how to make you putty in his hands. Speaking of hands, another, this time louder, moan erupted from you when his hands got under your top and trailed upward to your breasts to pinch hard on your nipples.

"Fuck, ya sound so adorable!"

You couldn't help but rock your hips against his when you felt his dick twitch in his boxers. A, this time loud as fuck, moan left your throat when Cassidy started to thrust himself into you, dry humping the two of you, making both of you just even more needy and desperate for each other.

"Please, no teasing. Please! Just fuck me already!"

Sobbing you buried your face into the crook of his neck as you spoke those words.

"Shit, daddy just can't resist when his girl begs him like that!"

With one swift movement he had the both of you undressed, putting you down onto the floor to rest between his legs, his rock hard dick now being only a few centimetres aways from your face. The sight of precum dripping down his shaft and the smell of arousal turned you on even more. Cassidy didn't even need to say anything when you started to give the head of his cock kitten licks, drawing hot breathy moans from his lips.

"God, my girl knows exactly what daddy wants, gotta reward her for that."

Hearing those words made you eager for what he'll give you, finally taking his dick into your mouth and bobbing your head up and down. Your hands wandered up to his balls, giving them a few tight squeezes before deep throating him, almost making yourself gag from the sudden intrusion in your throat. As you did so you could hear a low growl come from Cassidy, encouraging your doings.

But before you could continue giving him head, his hand found it's way onto your scalp, taking a fist full of your hair in his hand and pulling on it to make you look up to him.

As you looked him in the eyes you noticed a almost feral look has taken over his normally smug features, seemingly you riled him up enough for him to change his default expression.

"Be a good girl and sit on daddys cock, will ya?"

He didn't have to tell you twice before you practically jumped up and got into his lap, the tip of his dick grazing your wet core before you sank down onto it, his thickness spreading your tight hole, making you feel like he's going to split you in half. You moaned as his tip reached the deepest spot of your insides, but so did he.

Cassidy didn't give you any time to accommodate to the slightly painful feeling of him inside you, slamming his cock in and out of your tight hole at a brutal pace.

You felt your walls clamping down onto Cassidys cock, it twitching inside of you from the sudden tightness.

"God, yer cunt's so tight."

You yelped in pain when Cassidy sunk his teeth into your shoulder, drawing blood from the small wound he had left there, licking over it as if to say sorry. But even so you couldn't deny it being hot as fuck and getting you closer to your climax.

"Cole, I'm getting close!"

"So am I pumpkin. Hold on a lil' longer, will ya? Then we'll come together."

You nodded frantically. You loved when the two of you came together in unison, when his hot load fills up your hole while your own climax rushes through your body.

Cassidys thrusts became sloppier and irregular, the steady rhythm he had going on quickly fading away. All he had in mind was making you come so he can feel your walls milking him as he shoots his load inside of you.

Suddenly his feet slipped on the hard wooden floor making him slip down a bit, his dick suddenly taking a new position inside of your pussy, hitting a, unkown to you both, new spot inside of you, making your come in an instant, your fluids gushing out of you and all over his private parts and lap as your screamed out his name. For Cassidy it only needed another sloppy thurts before he reached his climax, his own cum painting your spasming walls white, mixing with your fluids on his lap.

The only thing that can be heard now where the irratic breaths of both of you, your chests heaving up and down, trying to catch your breaths as you two came down from your highs.

"Fuck babe, ya felt so good."

You let yourself fall forward onto his chest, your hands snaking around his neck.

"We should go showering."

"Only a few minutes of cuddling, please."

A low chuckle could be heard from Cassidy as his own hands found a way into your own body, pressing you closer to himself. Without noticing a tiredness overcame you and let you drift off to sleep.

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『Tags』

#overwatch 2 #overwatch #ow2 #jesse mccree #cole cassidy #overwatch smut #cole cassidy x reader #jesse mccree x reader #mccree smut #cassidy smut

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hb-writes · 1 year

Text

Mirrors

Summary: It’s 1922 in the Little Lady Blinderverse. John was used to Clara preferring Tommy, but there was a space between Clara and their brother now that Grace had returned. John wondered if it was the big, drafty halls out in Warwickshire setting a coldness into their interactions. He didn’t know for sure, but he did know that there was more space between Clara and Tommy now than there had ever been on Watery Lane. There seemed to be very little space between his sister and his wife though, something that bothered John more than he cared to admit, the conspiratorial dynamic mirroring what had once existed between Tommy and Clara.

Request (from @cas-kingdom): “What do you need?” “You.” would be totally adorable for John & Clara. Congrats on 4 years of LLB!!

(Note: this is the second story based on the same prompt because both ideas bit me and I couldn’t let go.)

Characters: John Shelby, Esme Shelby, Elias Shelby, and Clara Shelby

Content Warnings: nothing much, I think.

Tell me what y'all think! Reviews and comments are always appreciated. 😌❤️

Peaky Blinders (Little Lady Blinder) Masterlist

Peaky Blinders (Non-Shelby!Sister) Masterlist

—

John allowed a good natured roll of his eyes as the front door eased open. The damn thing had creaked from the very day he and Martha moved in. John could’ve fixed it easily, but after all this time, he decided he liked the familiarity of it. He didn’t mind his brothers joking that John did not lock his doors because the creaking was so loud it would alert him of any intruders. It reminded him of Martha and it did serve as a sort of warning, especially in the quiet of an emptied out house.

As he heard the sound now, John wondered which of the kids would be coming back through to intrude on his peace. One of them must’ve forgotten something—that wasn’t a surprise. A favorite toy, a hat, a shoe…John wouldn’t be surprised whatever it was. Especially if it was Katie. John was quite certain that little girl would lose her head if it wasn’t properly attached.

She mirrored her Uncle Finn in that way—a little scattered, always on the bloody move. John thought he could see a bit of his brothers and sisters and himself reflected in each of the kids and some days, on coming home to the raucous bunch, he was reminded of his childhood in the best and the worst of ways. And even though John was their father, he felt almost as if he simply melted into their dynamic. Some days, it was a relief to lose himself in his children—to pass a few hours being silly and carefree. But other evenings, it was too much to come home to the familiar attitudes and behaviors, little copies of the trying family members he’d spent all day dealing with.

Days like that—days like today—Esme took them all out of the house to give John time to decompress after arriving home for the shop. Like a premonition, Esme always seemed to know, even without John realizing he needed it.

But he did need it.

Some days depending on what he was tasked with, John just needed a moment to come back to himself before being with the kids, to let all the other stuff fall away, to be reminded that the family dynamics he’d grown up with didn’t have to be the same ones he raised his kids with. That the traits his kids had gotten from the rest of the Shelbys were just that—traits. His frustrations with his brothers and his aunts had no need of being taken out on his kids...on his wife.

John knew it, but he wasn’t always aware of it creeping in. Esme always seemed to sense it better than he did. She knew when her husband needed to get himself straight. She never called attention to it though, always able to make up some perfectly reasonable excuse for why all of the children needed to come with her and leave the house empty for a bit even if it was just before dinner time. Even if it was not remotely convenient for her or the kids.

And there was something about Esme’s way that those kids, the ones who always had a million protests and questions…they never questioned it when she announced they were going out. They didn’t back talk to her the way they might to John. It was like she held some sort of magic over them all. John thought sometimes maybe she did.

Esme Shelby Lee certainly had him in a thrall, anyway.

They’d only be gone for half an hour, but that would be time enough. John took a sip of his drink, still sitting in his chair at the kitchen table as he waited for whoever it was to come back through. Sarah, he hoped. John figured he could handle his oldest daughter for just a few minutes.

Yes, he decided. He far preferred it to be Sarah coming through the door. He couldn’t handle any of the other children just now—not Katie, who was a bit like Finn, or Joey, who was somehow both a bit of Tommy and a bit of Arthur at the same time, and certainly not Robbie, who was too much like John. Thankfully, the baby wasn’t like much of anyone yet, not discernibly anyway, but he knew his infant wouldn’t be crawling through the door.

John took another sip of his drink as careful footsteps sounded in the front room. He knew it wasn’t just the time alone but also the glass of whiskey that eased the day’s tensions. Somewhere along the line, he’d convinced himself it helped. He’d convinced himself he needed it.

John called out before the kitchen door swung open. “What do you need—”

He started as his sister came through the door, still in her school uniform, looking like she’d run the whole way there from the other side of Birmingham. “Oh—Clara. Uh…Esme’s out with the—”

Clara shook her head. “No,” she choked out, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as the bag of school books fell to the floor. Her eyes were rimmed red with tears and John realized she wasn’t just out of breath from running here.

“Alright,” John shifted in his chair. “What do you—?”

“You. John, I—” The words came out hard, like whatever she intended to say really was a need and not a want. As Clara’s voice devolved into a sob, she became incoherent to her brother, whatever else she had been about to tell him lost in the tears and uncontrollable breathing. John had not a single clue as to what it might have been his sister needed, what she was trying to tell him. It usually frustrated him a bit, having to guess at whatever Clara wasn’t saying and lately, Esme had been taking over where Clara was concerned. Esme understood her better. He figured it was a female thing.

He’d grown used to his sister showing up unannounced or inviting herself over for dinner or for a long weekend. Most of the time, she was looking for Esme, but she’d been spending more time with them in general—with him, and Esme, and the kids. Clara and Esme had formed a certain bond though, a bit of a conspiratorial relationship that John didn’t wholly understand or particularly enjoy. There were secrets between his wife and his sister that he wasn’t comfortable with them having though he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know the details. Esme often informed him that what she and Clara talked about wasn’t any of his business, anyway.

John let it be. He tried for acceptance, but he would’ve been lying if he said it didn’t bother him just a bit—the conspiratorial dynamic mirroring what had once existed between Tommy and Clara and making him a little jealous that his sister seemed to be closer with his wife than him these days.

John was used to Clara preferring Tommy, but there was a space between Clara and their brother now that Grace had returned. John wondered if it was the big, drafty halls out in Warwickshire setting a coldness into their interactions. He didn’t know for sure, but there was more space between Clara and Tommy now than there had ever been on Watery Lane.

And it still hadn’t seemed enough for Clara. She filled her time with finding excuses to be away from Arrow House, passing her weekends with John and Esme when she could manage it, but John wasn’t expecting her at his place now—not for a few hours, at least.

She should’ve been across the city in a classroom still. Or maybe, she should’ve been just about to head over to the office down on Jamaica Row. Someone was probably waiting on her at the school.

A Blinder.

The high and mighty King Thomas, himself, maybe.

It didn’t quite matter who was waiting on Clara though because she was here, in John’s kitchen, sputtering on the other side of the room. Whatever tension that had been clinging to John, the tension that had had Esme taking the kids out within a minute of him passing over the threshold eased. John’s mind stopped working to figure his sister out, to make sense of her sudden presence, deciding it didn’t quite matter. He stood up and crossed the kitchen to pull Clara against his chest.

Clara held her brother tight, immediately shifting so her arms were clinging onto him.

“Alright. It’s alright,” John soothed. Part of him wished she’d loosen her hold on him just a bit, but he didn’t moan or try to shift her any, letting her take what she needed for as long as she wanted.

John eased his hold when Clara started to pull away, lifting her arm to wipe at her face while she leaned her head against his chest.

“Does Tommy know—?”

“I don’t care,” she mumbled. “Tommy can fuck off.”

John snorted. “Don’t want to get on your bad side, eh?”

Clara pushed away from John and shoved her elbow into his side.

“Oi! Knock it off!” he huffed, pulling Clara back to his chest and settling her in a gentle headlock. “Thought you wanted me.”

Clara sighed. She tugged his arm down and settled against him once again. “I do.”

“Be nice then,” John mumbled. He placed a kiss on Clara’s head.

Clara took a deep breath, her eyes trained on the floor as she scuffed her feet against the well-worn hardwood. “I want to come home.”

John settled his hand on his sister's head. “You are home, Clara.”

His house was as good as hers, the way he saw it. She certainly spent enough time there.

“No, John.” Clara shook her head against him. “I want to be back for good. Back on Watery Lane.”

John hummed, but the sound was neutral—more of an acknowledgement than anything else. They both knew it wasn’t up to them, either one of them. Tommy said where Clara went. He said where she rested her head and where she learned her sums and where she was employed. The arrangement wasn’t documented or official, but it was good as law as far as they were all concerned. For years and years, it had been that way.

“What’s brought this on?” He asked.

“I just want to be here,” Clara answered. “I can help with the kids and—”

“There’ll be a kid at Arrow House you can help with soon enough,” John said.

Clara shook her head. She’d already decided that Tommy and Grace would have no need of her help. They had already hired a full staff for the house, nanny and all. They’d have Mary look after Charles. And Clara was quite certain that Mary didn’t like her.

“Tommy doesn’t need me,” she said, swallowing down the lump in her throat. “He doesn’t want me…said he doesn’t need me at the office anymore. Doesn’t want me in the business anymore.”

“He said all that?”

Clara pretended to sift through her mind for Tommy’s exact words, though she remembered them very clearly. He’d been so short in his explanations, his decree that she was done working for now, but it hadn’t felt to Clara like Tommy’s heart was in it.

“It doesn’t matter,” Clara said. “She’s put him up to it…she thinks I need to be focused on my schooling….but I can do both. If he doesn’t need me downtown, I can work in the shop instead, can’t I? You could use me and I can stay here and help with the kids and—“

“Of course I could use you,” John said, knowing his sister was better with math than most of the other buffoons in the shop and that Esme would probably relish in having his sister to lend a hand with the kids, “but if Tommy says—“

“I don’t care what Tommy says. He’s not—“

“In charge of us?” John suggested, cutting her off. “I’m surprised he’s not here already to collect you and give us both a telling off.”

Clara deflated a bit. “Can’t you just tell him I’m staying with you? Just tell him you and Esme need me to sit with the kids tonight?”

“Yeah, and are you actually going to sit with them?” he asked.

“I can…if you want,” she said, the volume of her voice lowering as she continued. “But maybe you and Esme want to stay in? I’m sure the kids would like it.”

John hummed. “Yeah, the kids would like it, sure.”

It wasn’t as if Clara’s words were untrue. John knew his kids would love a night in with their parents and aunt as Clara suggested, but there was more to it than that. It was Clara who wanted her brother close. It was Clara who wanted a night on Watery Lane, insulated from the rest of her world by her brother and sister-in-law and nieces and nephews.

“Can you talk to him?”

John sighed, nodding despite himself. “But if he wants you home, I’m not fighting him. It’s not worth it, alright? If he puts up a fight, you go on for the weekend and you can come to us next week as planned.”

Clara nodded, “And working in the shop?”

Clara let the question linger, cutting

“If you sort things with Tommy…” Clara cut into her brother’s thoughts as she heard the front door creak open, hoping it wasn’t Tommy coming to find her. “I’ll sort our dinner tonight…”

Esme came into the kitchen with all five children in tow. She plopped the baby in John’s arms and handed the bag of groceries to Clara before lowering herself into the chair and running her hands over her swollen belly.

“If your sister’s offering to cook me dinner, you do whatever she wants, John.”

John had no desire to get between his brother and his sister. He had enough disagreements racked up with Tommy without counting Clara’s concerns, but John could tell she needed it. She needed to feel someone was on her side, hearing her, listening to her. He knew what it was to feel like no one was listening. And he wasn’t sure Tommy would listen to him, but Polly might. He figured she might be willing to talk to Tommy. And Tommy might be willing to listen if it was Polly’s voice he was hearing.

And now that Esme was involved, it didn’t seem he had much of a choice in the matter anyway.

“Your mother’s said her piece. I guess we’d best go make a few phone calls for your auntie, eh, Eli?” The baby in his lap lifted a chubby hand and smacked it against John’s cheek. He went back for a second and third hit, laughter spilling from his little mouth, seemingly trying to move his father along.

“Alright, mate. Hold on,” John said, standing himself and the baby up and heading toward the telephone.

John paused just over the threshold. He could hear his wife and sister talking, Esme’s voice followed by Clara’s laughter.

Elias patted John’s face again, pulling his attention back to the task at hand.

“I’m going, I’m going,” John said as he continued away from the kitchen.

It would usually have set John a bit on edge, hearing his sister and wife start talking and laughing as soon as he was out of the room, but just now it eased something in John knowing he wasn’t alone in all of this. It was a comfort knowing that his wife knew not just what he needed, but what his kids needed, and his sister, too.

As John lifted the handset, waiting for the operator to connect, Elias cuddled into his father’s chest. John knew the boy had inherited his looks from the Shelby side, but as another bit of tension inside of him melted away at the baby's touch, John thought maybe the boy's intuitive, kind heart might mirror that of his mother.

Peaky Blinders (Little Lady Blinder) Masterlist

Peaky Blinders (Non-Shelby!Sister) Masterlist

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #john shelby fanfic #john shelby #esme lee #esme shelby #shelby sister #shelby!sister #little lady blinder #clara shelby #elias shelby #raise a glass to llb

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