#at least if i had the spine to try my pastor he could have been violently homophobic and i could have gotten some funny footage | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vasiktomis · 3 years

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Pomegranate, Chapter 17: Quiet Earth, Part I.

John Seed x Female Deputy

Rating: Explicit.

Read it on Ao3 here!

Notes: Thanks all who have been keeping up with this! I'm so consistently floored by the amount of content creators we have in this fandom corner and the sheer level of workmanship that exists here. This is the first chapter of Pom that I'll be posting to tumblr, and I'm hoping to draw up a little sketch with each update. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Big thank you to @shallow-gravy and @consumedkings as always for dealing with my stupidity and being a pair of top-notch angels, and also just like, everybody who takes time out of their day to engage with this? Y'all really sticking with ultra slow burn and I swear after some wicked angst in the next couple of chapters I'll finally be able to throw some well-deserved smut at you. WARNINGS: Forced conversion, descriptions of dissociation and derealisation, explicit language, sexual content, depictions of violence, guns, blood and gore. Canon-typical debauchery.

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“Don’t touch him!”

Mary May lunged with enough force for John to feel the wake of air sweep through him, even with how quickly she was snatched up and yanked back to her place. The soles of her tennis shoes squeaked against the floor as she was dragged to the far side of the room, unable to be trusted with providing audience to Nick’s Atonement.

A shame, really. It was nicer as a shared experience.

The Baptist rolled his jaw, off-setting some of the tension arising from the shrieks that the blonde flung at the back of his head. He righted himself, taking the tattoo gun from one of his faithful with a gracious nod, and turned his attention down to the pilot currently pinned to the floor. Without a word, he sank to his knees, straddling the man, keeping silent as he could just to listen out for any change in his demeanour. Fear. Grief. Defeat. Acceptance. A sign to prove his readiness.

Nick didn't flinch, breathing hard through his nose and watching with hateful eyes. John hovered an indicating hand over the man’s bare chest, bruised from the fight he’d put up against his capture, mentally mapping out placement. Then, he came in with the needle, beginning with the stem of an ’E’, right in the centre of Nick's sternum.

The pilot snorted, masking discomfort with indifference, turning a wince into a scoff. “Figures you don’t use stencils. I ain’t got a hope in hell of this turning out good, do I.”

That casual old Nick attitude. He missed it.

If only he’d let him do this 5 years ago. He wouldn’t have had to miss it.

John feigned offense. “Oh I’m sorry, Nick. Did you want me to do the rest in cursive? Add a feather? Infinity symbol?”

“For fuck’s sake-”

“Talk about tonal dissonance. It’s not meant to be pretty.” He grumbled. “Might’ve gotten a little more practice if you’d-”

A yell from the rear entryway pulled John’s hand away from his canvas. More squeaking. More interruption. Jerome Jeffries getting hauled into the church, held under each arm by the pair of Chosen that John had sent looking for him.

The Baptist cast a look over his shoulder at them, content with the sight of Jerome adequately beaten and bloodied. “Ahh. Pastor. Try to run and hide? It’s no wonder your flock ran astray with a shepherd so quick to leave them to the wolves.”

Jerome ignored him. No reply. No eye contact. A crime John noted to make worthy of capital punishment in the New Eden. The Pastor was set down beside Mary May, who immediately began seeing to his injuries. Murmuring bubbled between them.

“Did you reach them?” The bartender asked. Must’ve been a negative, because the next thing she did was curse.

“The Deputy was calling when they caught me.”

And if she had half the spine to come and broker an agreement for her friends, she’d be inbound.

“Could you at least gag them? I’m trying to concentrate.” John ordered no one in particular, earning another scoff from Nick. “The faster we work, the less we’ll have to get through once she arrives. The quicker we can be out of this heinous town.”

“Stay away from her, shitbag.” The pilot ground out, this time unable to save face when John retaliated, pressing the gun just a little too hard, digging down through an extra few layers of skin.

“Nick Rye, you’re a married man.” John tutted playfully, resuming his work. “That sin of yours again. Take, take, take. Didn’t think the Deputy to be your type. Wouldn’t say you’re hers, either.”

Nick looked downright disgusted at the prospect. Less concerned for the state of his wife - which meant she'd been a likely getaway. “Always been so fuckin’ jealous.”

“Come again?”

“Think folks are stupid? Think I don’t know you?”

“You don't know me, period.” John bit back, skin on the back of his neck flushing between boiling and freezing.

“Anyone else givin’ you this much trouble’d be long dead by now. That shit on the radio? Reckon you’d be talkin’ like that if your family could hear you across the river?” Nick continued, averting his gaze when John shot him a particularly poisonous look. He didn’t, however, find it necessary to respond to such a veiled accusation.

At least until -

“Everybody knows you wanna stick it to her, John-”

As if he’d been awaiting the chance, John’s free hand shot to Nick’s jaw, aching in protest when he squeezed, not stopping until he could feel the man’s molars beneath his flesh. “That’s about enough from you.” He crooned.

John had his desires, yes. He’d accepted that much. Had he not been sworn to celibacy, he might have jumped at the opportunity to respond to Cora’s advances last night. That said, she was still an outsider, and while her Atonement made the prospect less dicey, he couldn’t consciously consider laying with the woman in real life.

No matter how torturous it had become to gear his thoughts toward anything else.

He could be content with just her company, without making any further advances on her. Last night had simply been a moment of weakness, and he’d prevailed by stepping away.

“If you’ll excuse me.” John switched off the little machine once he’d completed his piece and promptly stood to beckon for replacement parts. Mary May might have gotten away with an allergic reaction last time he’d attempted this, but considering he’d be slicing it out of her within the hour, he couldn’t see any reason for her to be complaining. The bartender had been a thorn in his side from the start. While Nick and his wife had once lent John their...whatever a sinner’s closest equivalent was to friendship, Mary May had always been trouble. Wore her heart on her sleeve and trusted no one she hadn’t grown up around. Bolshie. Almost fucking killed him, once.

John busied himself with needle transfers and a pleasant expression. He could feel the woman’s eyes on him.

Did she think what Nick proclaimed? That complete and utter lie?

How fucking crass. No, he did not want to ’stick it’ to Cora. At least, as far as anyone else was concerned. He was fond of her, and - while yes, he had encountered temptation - if one disregarded the cum-stained, stolen panties in his pocket, and the conjured fantasies, and the purely incidental erection he’d maintained after the Deputy stuck her tongue down his throat last night - there was simply no evidence to suggest to anyone else that he was even remotely tempted to break the rules.

Sex was the furthest thing from his mind. It was mere coincidence that today had just so happened to fall on a morning in which he’d needed to trim.

…

If, however, she were to decide that she wanted to continue what she’d attempted last night, then surely he couldn’t be to blame if he only failed to stop her. It wasn’t technically fornication if he didn’t initiate it. Nor was it considered intercourse if -

“Brother John.”

John jumped, heart stopping, whipping his head around to the Chosen standing at the door of the church.

“What?" He asked thickly.

“The Deputy’s arrived.”

Right on cue, the crackling of gunshots drifted in alongside the Chosen’s announcement.

“Tell everyone to hold their fire.” John ordered. “We have them outnumbered tenfold. The Deputy can’t be stupid enough to create a hostage situation. Direct her here, and peacefully.”

The Chosen’s throat bobbed, swallowing back outrage, and John squinted hard at him, trying to dispel the flicker of green light in the mist outside as it settled against the man’s temple.

“John, I don’t think-”

He never got a chance to act on that incoming insubordination.

Instead, he jerked, cut off by a sickening crack as a section of his skull blew out of his head. Red mist and liquified brain matter followed, splattering against the doorframe, and the Chosen slumped lifeless onto the front step.

John wasn’t so much shaken by the killing as he was irritated by everyone else’s apparent refusal to let today go according to plan. Maybe also the pile of brains and hair now sitting on his once-pristine red carpet. He’d made this easy for the woman: kill everyone he could round up, leave her with no one to claim duty to, and get this all over and done with. Have her home by mid-afternoon. Embark on a new chapter and achieve salvation. It was that simple.

Woe to him for trusting in her common sense.

“Fuck’s sake. Wrath begets more wrath.” He muttered, smoothing a hand over his chin. He didn’t have the patience for this any longer. “Fine. Sister -”

A woman stood from the pews as soon as John made eye contact, equally as unshaken by the scene mere feet away.

“Send out word: the Deputy wants to sacrifice her friends for the sake of a fight.” John punctuated the end of his sentence with a click as he returned his focus to jamming the needles into his tattoo gun. “Give her what she wants. Take her by force.”

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The smokescreen was beginning to clear, but despite the weight it was taking off her lungs, Cora would’ve preferred it remain just a little longer. At least until they’d cleared out the town. Had they been quicker, it might have lasted longer. Covered their approach to Fall’s End. Given them more cover to sneak about unseen.

The streets, while still hazy, were visible now. It wasn’t a difficult task watching Peggie silhouettes run from building to building in search of her team. Resistance members and civilians were either in the process of being rounded up, or littered the road and pavement, dead. The Ryes, Mary May, and Pastor Jerome were yet to be seen amongst either group.

Same went for Boomer.

Aside from the barking of orders from Chosen and faithful, there was little sound. Knowing how much of a fuss her dog had put up the last time he’d been caught by the Project struck Cora’s nerves. He was his own alarm, and he would not go peacefully.

Not hearing him was an indication of the worst.

Some part of her brain argued against the idea. Vouching that John wouldn’t have hurt the creature. That was her dog. He had to be an exception to the massacre, no matter how vicious he behaved.

She had to find him, and creeping through the rear entry of the Spread Eagle was the first point of call.

Luckily enough, the back door had yet to be boarded up. Peggies who rushed past covered windows hardly stopped to peek inside the place for fear of being tainted by the presence of alcohol. Sneaking in was simple enough, too, at least once Jess had picked the lock.

“I’m going to pretend that door was open.” The Deputy murmured her equivalent to praise, passing into the building.

Grace headed straight in after her, taking a left to search for any sign of Mary May while she took a right toward the stairs.

“You pretend the Cook’s head was already gone when we found him?” Jess whispered.

“Freak accident. You all saw it.”

“First floor’s clear.” Grace announced from the serving hatch in the kitchen, clearly unhappy about it.

“Right.” Cora acknowledged, “I’ll check up top.”

The second story was as dead-quiet as the first. Furniture had been knocked over in the hallway and bedrooms had been raided. None of it indicated anything good, but she still had to know.

Cora pushed open the door to her room, and while she held no expectation of what she’d find, her heart sank anyway.

It was empty.

Boomer was gone.

Only his makeshift collar and a tattered bandana remained atop the rug he’d been snoozing on that morning.

Her dog.

John had either taken him or killed him, just like the rest. He’d do the same to the rest of her team. She should’ve taken the Baptist’s offer before the latter had even become a possibility.

“No sign?” Grace affirmed once the Deputy slipped back down to the first floor. “My guess is either they’re in hiding, or John’s giving them special treatment. If they were dead he’d be parading them.”

Sharky and Hurk exchanged a frown when Cora offered only a nod, notably more meek than usual.

“Was he in there, darlin’?” Adelaide asked, a little too gently not to invite a sting to her eyes.

Cora felt her jaw clench. It was a different breed of nausea, trying to keep her composure under the scrutiny of the rest of the team. She managed to shake her head, and Adelaide’s hand found her shoulder.

“Could still be with the others, yet.” The woman offered.

“So how do we find them?” Jess asked.

Find John Seed, of course.

“Finding them’s one thing. Getting to them might be the harder part.” Cora began. “The smokescreen’s only getting thinner and there’s Peggies everywhere. It's grasslands from here to the hills. No way we can herd everyone across a field on-foot, safely. We’ve got to make sure they stay freed, first.”

“And?” Jess huffed. “We’re gonna kill some Peggies, right?”

The blonde considered that.

“We split up. Search the buildings for anyone who hasn’t been caught yet. Round them up and plant explosives as we go. With enough chaos, maybe we can have a shot at turning the tide in the short term.”

Sharky was practically trembling. “Explosives, like, everywhere?”

“Everywhere. The more damage, the better.” Cora replied. “Adelaide, Xander, pair up. Sharky and Hurk, same with you.”

“And us on range?” Jess grinned, trading a look with Grace who maintained absolute stoicism. “I’m so into that.”

“No.”

…

“Say what?”

“No more ranged attacks. I need you and Grace to head back to the van -”

Jess was advancing on her before she’d even finished her sentence.

“You’re pulling me outta the fight? The fuck gives?” The huntress loomed over the Deputy, incredulous. Cora made an effort to stay put, but Jess’s insistence managed to outweigh her stubbornness, forcing the blonde to compromise by leaning as far back as she could without falling.

“We can’t keep running on short-term wins.” Cora insisted. “We have to put our foot down. No more small assaults. No more hoping John gets demoralised enough that he hands himself over.”

Sharky frowned. “What’re you saying?”

She met his gaze, puffing out her chest, retaking her space. “I’m saying the Henbane Bridge is unmanned right now. If we get word to the County Jail, there’s no roadblock to stop them from helping us win this. John Seed’s throwing everything he can at us. I say we try for the same. I say we end it for good. We’re gonna take back Holland Valley. Today.”

“...You really like that dog, huh.”

“That too.”

Jess looked unconvinced. “So the two of us are running errands while the rest of you are holding the fort? Fucking bullshit.”

“I told you. No more range.” Cora bit back, jabbing a thumb toward Hurk and Sharky. “You’d rather send Boshaws and Drubmans to convince Tracey to send us her best people? No offence.”

“None taken, bitch.” Adelaide grumbled.

Grace exhaled, throwing away momentary hesitation. “We’ll be fast.”

Cora traded a nod with the sniper before looking to Jess once more.

Still unconvinced.

“They have cars with guns on them, remember?”

The corner of Jess’s mouth ticked. Temptation.

Mission accomplished.

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The tacky fucking carpet was the first thing she noticed, creeping along Main Street. Bliss petals had been sprinkled all over the road leading up to the church.

The carpet ended at the door. An invitation if she ever saw one. Boastful. Arrogant.

A pang of dread ached through Cora's bones, holding her in place while she drew her revolver. It could be an ambush. It probably was an ambush, but there was nothing she could feasibly do to avoid it. If the others were in there, then she couldn't wait around any longer.

She had to do this. At least hold out until Jess and Grace returned, with or without help.

She'd been running for long enough. All other options had been exhausted. At least John offered the least awful defeat.

Drawing close to the entrance, the Deputy pointedly avoided examining a dead crow that had been impaled upon the wall. She inhaled, holding the breath in her lungs, steadying her heart rate.

It was only freedom.

She opened the door, immediately training the gun out before her, following its guide into the room.

About a dozen Peggies dotted the space, leaning against walls, lining the pews - all angled at the pulpit, observing Nick on the floor. He stifled a cry while John sliced through the final remaining layers of skin binding the tattoo to his chest, peeling the word 'GREED' out of his flesh. Blood pooled on the floor around them, and the moment John had stepped away, the pilot was descended on with antiseptic and bandages.

The Deputy waited for nausea at the sight to take its course. It never did. She was all but numbed to the sight.

"Deputy, run!"

Mary May's voice cut through the silence, and the bartender lurched from her own spot on the ground. Guns raised all around the room, swinging around to aim for Cora.

”Hold!” John barked immediately, unconcerned when the Deputy shifted her aim to him. Instead, he busied himself with washing his sullied hands. “Hold your fire.”

His followers obeyed.

Cora, meanwhile, cocked the revolver in her grip. One foot edged into the room, and she glanced around for the Project’s captives before returning her gaze to John. All on the other side of the room. Pinned. Fuck.

“Hope County Sheriff’s Department.” She announced, staring the Baptist down, ignoring the grin that crept onto his face - like he found it fucking funny. “Weapons on the ground. Step away from the hostages.”

“Hostages?” John snorted. He gestured Pastor Jerome, Mary May, and Nick. “These are guests! This is their Atonement. This is your Atonement.”

“Drop the fucking weapons.”

John’s patience thinned. Quickly. “I’m not doing this with you.” He replied simply. “Not today.”

With his own look around the room, John inclined his head. An unspoken order to which everyone carrying a gun turned them on her allies.

“We both know you don’t have enough bullets for everyone. Nor do you have the time. So why don’t you put down my gun and surrender.”

“Don’t-” Mary May was cut off with the tap of steel against her temple. Warning.

John was right. She was outnumbered. There was no chance of getting any of them out with force alone.

She inhaled. Exhaled. Watched the fondness slip back onto John’s face like it had never left, and set the gun on the floor.

“That’s my girl.” John murmured. Then, he motioned. “Get her ready.”

Cora’s stomach dropped as two sets of arms coiled around hers, each pulling and pushing, prickling at her skin with unfamiliar, sickening touch. Biology told her to resist. Escape the sensation. The downward pulling.

“No, stop it.” Escaped her while she squirmed. “Get off. Stop touching me-”

“Her friends can’t be far. Find them.” The Baptist ordered, turning away toward the pulpit.

Cora’s knees hit the floor. There was no holding the repetition of protests, but even as she consciously elevated the volume of her voice, it grew quieter in her ears. Calculated attempts to jerk away and make an escape became automatic twitches.

One of John’s followers - a female - crept into view, fingers tugging at the top button on her uniform collar. John readied a tattoo gun over the woman’s shoulder, and the Deputy’s mind screamed alarm bells. Get out. Escape. Fight back. Regain control.

“I won’t hurt you, sister.”

This time, she sank, curling forward, angling herself away from the woman. Another attempt, and she wrenched away again, snarling. Then, the Peggies around her must have gotten tired of all the fuss, because the tear of cotton clawed at her ears. Ringing through her brain.

Her back felt cold all of a sudden.

Green material slipped down her arms, and at the sight of her own uniform pooling in shreds in her own lap, Cora ceased her thrashing. The shredded shirt was yanked from her belt and tossed aside, and she watched with growing resignation while John turned back around.

His gaze found hers. Then flickered downward, first to the compression bra, then a margin to the right. “Here I thought you’d be unmarked.” He commented, inspecting what was visible of the old ink on her lower ribs while he approached.

Hands pressed against Cora’s shoulders, and she drifted back until her shoulder blades hit the floor.

John continued to loom until he stood directly over her. He sank to his knees, expression softening with his descent until he was on all fours on top of her. He looked almost adoring, and she hated how it comforted her, just slightly. She hated how the hands had disappeared from her limbs, and yet she still made no further attempt to escape. He had every ounce of power now.

She didn’t know she’d started trembling until his free hand swept over her collarbones, mapping out her chest, calming the gooseflesh beading on her from the chill, or the fright, or perhaps just that this whole thing felt so humiliatingly exposing.

A blush swelled over John’s throat, maybe indicating some straying line of thought. He snapped out of it and settled to sit on her hips. “This looks familiar, doesn’t it?” He teased, hovering the tattoo gun right over the centre of her sternum.

“Dont.” Was all she could manage. Weak. Pleading. “I don’t want you to.”

“You have no idea how good you’re going to feel after this.” John cooed.

One of his fingers drifted along her jaw. An attempt at comforting her, but to no avail. He looked equal parts gentle and feral with excitement.

The machine buzzed, lowering pitch when the needles finally pressed into her flesh.

This was it.

She’d lost. There was no going back, anymore. No more normal, no more ridding herself of this family. They’d taken everything, and now they were claiming ownership over her, too.

The others were being hunted. It was only a matter of time. John was working too quickly. They’d be gone before the Cougars even crossed the river.

Cora’s nerves muted. Sound closed to just the rumble of blood in her ears. She receded into herself. Found a backseat in her mind, away from the sensory overload and the humiliation and her own failure while her body quietly continued: ”Dont, don’t, stop.”

She’d lost, and John wouldn’t stop. Not while he was branding the evidence of his victory into her flesh.

Defeat tasted worse than anticipated.

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Bullets whizzed overhead while Sharky and Hurk took cover beneath the window, watching helplessly as the aisle of potato chips and bar nuts was torn to shreds by the onslaught. Dorito dust filled the shop like mustard gas.

“Cuz, I think they found us!” Hurk barked, snapping an arm over his head in defence when a stray round ricocheted off the front counter.

“What gives you that impression?” Sharky hit back, hurriedly setting down his shotgun and shrugging his backpack to the floor.

“How many are there?”

“How about you check?”

A moment of quiet occurred while the cousins glared at each other, leaving their standoff to a battle of no blinking. Then the Peggies outside must’ve finished re-loading, because the back wall of the shop was suddenly being shot into swiss cheese.

They were okay. Everything was cool. Addie and Xander had taken their share of explosives and gone the quiet route. Grace and Jess were gone. Shorty had disappeared into the church, and while he couldn't count the best, Sharky was pretty confident that John had caught her.

Could they have kept on looking for survivors and breaking out captives? Sure - but why do that when they could kill, like 40 birds with one stone and beeline for the gas station? It was conveniently across the road from the church, empty of any and all life barring the dormant tanks underground. An explosion that big was sure to fuck up like a good portion of Main Street. Not even the Chosen would be able to resist checking it out.

Disconnecting the safety switches had been easy. He’d been arrested for doing it like 5 times already. Cops, Peggies; it didn’t matter - Sharky knew what he was doing, and without the giant swinging dick of the law hanging over him, the man was on a mission. Cultists shooting at him was fine. He was used to that.

Threat of death or no, he wasn’t giving up the chance to see this place blow sky high.

“We’ll be outta here any second, Hurky.” Sharky assured. “Just gotta sprinkle a little C-4 around the place and we’ll be gone before it even goes off.”

Hurk was sweating. A lot. He was accustomed to being shot at, but normally, he had more than just Sharky to get him out of a tight spot. “Alright, bro. Gimme some. Many hands and what have you.”

“Fuck yeah. First step, toss some at the tanker outside. We wanna get the place as fiery as possible up here to wake up the big boys underground, and-”

Sharky stopped in his tracks, eyeing the backpack he’d just been in the process of unzipping.

“-uhh.”

“Uhh?”

“Hurky, can I be real with you?”

“Is now the best time for a deep and meaningful?” Hurk hissed, crawling toward him nonetheless.

The arsonist stuck his hand down the pack, rifling through fluff and mesh. “I, uh, I think I brought the wrong bag. And by think I mean know without a shadow of a doubt.”

Hurk watched as his cousin tugged the green, furry headpiece of a dragon out into the open.

“You brought-...”

“I brought my fursuit.”

“Not the C-4?”

“Not the C-4.”

“Okay, bro. That's fine. I'm not mad. Human error. Not even a little bit?”

Sharky checked again, just for good measure. “Nope...so, uhm...you got a match?”

Hurk ran a hank through his hair. “Not to poo poo your ideas, but that probably ain’t the best move.”

So just like that, they were fucked.

Jess and Grace still hadn’t come back. The others were nowhere to be seen. Shorty was holed up in that church, and he and Hurk were about to be rounded up by born-again virgins.

Shit, if that were the case -

“Well, if this is gonna be the last opportunity.” Sharky grunted, tugging the suit out and unzipping the back. “May as well enjoy our last minutes of freedom, huh?”

Hurk took the cue, creeping across the destroyed shop floor and reaching for a popped bag of pretzels. He sat back against the wall, leaning against the rocket launcher he’d propped up against the corner.

“Man.” The brunette sighed, staring at the floor. “If only we had some other kind of ranged, explosive device.”

“No shit.” Sharky agreed. “Some high velocity shit would fix this.”

They exchanged a sympathetic look once the arsonist had zipped himself up and crept over and sit beside his cousin, both leaning on either side of the RPG.

Hurk held out the bag.

“Pretzel?”

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“Was that so bad?” John asked, placing the tattoo gun aside and framing the Deputy’s marked chest. ’WRATH', in true black, beading with blood. The skin surrounding the text was mottled and inflamed. Excess ink covered the area in patches, gathering in the dip of her cleavage, disappearing beneath her sports bra.

All that sin, already leaking out through the exit he’d made for her.

Gorgeous.

Cora didn’t respond. That was fine. Shock was normal. She’d thank him once this was all over. For now, she just trembled, lock jawed, dissociated gaze searching what John had thought was him until he sat up. No, instead she was watching the ceiling.

John flashed a smile, blocking out a tiny streak of dread at the sight of the woman so vacant. Sweeping a lock of stained hair over her shoulder, he smoothed his fingers past her neck, attempting to gently angle her focus back to him. “Hey. You can come back now. We’re all done.”

You're finally on the other side. React to it. React to me. Look at me-

The boom came first, hollow and deep, and John felt the floor beneath him rumble. Chandeliers and decorations wobbled from the disturbance. Several of his followers shot from their seats, immediately abandoning the Resistance leaders they’d guarded in favour of pacing back and forth, trying to get a look at whatever was happening outside.

“Is this it?”

“Is it the Collapse?”

“It’s time?”

“John, is it the Collapse?”

The panic escalated quickly, forcing the Baptist to break his attention away from the empty woman below him and rein in the flock.

“Calm down.” He exclaimed, “It’s not the Collapse. It’s probably just-”

Another boom. Almost deafeningly loud.

This time, the whole church shook. Windows shattered in their creaking panes and smashed to the floor while pews squealed heavily in protest.

Contrary to his assertion, John dove down, covering the Deputy with his body. Holy shit, was it the Collapse?

The tremor must have been enough to snap Cora out of her trance, because a muffled “Get your tits out of my face.” buzzed against John’s chest.

Tragically, however, the Baptist never got the opportunity to reply to her. Had it not been for the fucking tennis shoe colliding with the side of his skull, he imagined he’d have something very clever to say. Alas, pain shot through his head and he jerked to the side, fighting against the blow to stay put. A snarl from Mary May, his apparent attacker, sounded in retaliation. She dove into him, knee driving into his ribs, throwing him off of the Deputy.

His thoughts left him for the briefest moment, overtaken by ensuing gunshots and shouts and the shrieks of the bartender as she was clawed away from him. Her hand shot forward right as she was yanked up, intended as a punch. It didn’t land, and John couldn’t help but shoot her a smirk for her failure.

“Deputy, gun!”

Nevermind. It wasn’t a punch after all. Mary May had been pointing over his shoulder at the revolver that had been surrendered on the floor. His revolver. The same one Cora was now scrambling toward.

No.

John lurched, heart leaping into his throat.

Not now. Not after he’d won. Not when they were so close.

His hand found the leg of Cora’s pants, wrenching, pulling her away from the weapon, and she kicked against him. Her finger tips slid against the barrel of the revolver, tugging it into her palm.

God wouldn’t fucking undo his victory.

John snarled, catching the Deputy’s wrist when she tried to aim - at him no less. Without her own recovery time achieved, he was able to wrestle the weapon from her easily enough, flattening her struggling body beneath his just long enough to hook an arm around her waist. He twisted around, holding the woman’s back against his belly. Her squirming ceased with the press of the muzzle against her head, and the moment her allies had taken notice of the change, everything went still.

Finally.

A little civility.

Several of John’s followers lay on the floor, either dead or close to it. Only a half-dozen remained, though the pair of Chosen had survived and placed themselves closest to their leader.

Pastor Jerome had procured a handgun from within his own bible - something that pulled a breathless laugh out of John as he surveyed the others. Nick hadn’t been able to arm himself, but he’d still tackled one of the faithful to the ground. His knuckles were bloodied. A familiar sight. Mary May had wrestled a gun of her own away from the woman who’d seized her. She aimed it shakily at John.

Armed but outnumbered, outgunned, and now, they were in check.

They never learned, did they?

“The way you people behave, you’d think salvation was a bad thing.” John tittered. “Right. Now, let’s try this again. Atonement, or damnation.” To punctuate his meaning, he tapped the muzzle against Cora’s head. She grunted in protest, and he ignored her. Of course it was a bluff. No one else knew that but him, though. It was too risky a move for the Resistance to let him do away with the one person that banded their factions.

She was their leader. They couldn’t lose her.

John looked around the room once more, locking eyes with Jerome first - then Mary May. “Are we going to behave?”

The answer was immediate and clear: a gunshot cracking through the Baptist’s ears and the flash of a blast spilling from Mary May’s weapon. Cora’s elbow driving into his stomach and the reaction time of his Chosen snapping to attention, covering him, already hauling John out of the church and onto the street.

Fuck no, he wasn't leaving without his prize.

"GRAB HER!" John howled, struggling against the attempts to get him to safety. "Leave the rest!"

It was a reluctant effort, but the Deputy was yanked along as well, shoved into Johns arms on his repeated orders, with me, with me.

“Mary May, what the fuck!” The Deputy roared over her shoulder.

“Sorry Deputy! I missed!”

Missed?

“You sure about that? Jesus fucking Christ!”

More shots sounded, but only the noise pursued them from the building. It wasn’t until John had shoved Cora into the back of the waiting truck that he realised how warm his hand had gotten. Wet, too.

“Get to the ranch!” One of the Chosen snarled up front, casting a look back at the Baptist while the vehicle took off, watching as he peeled away from the blonde to inspect himself.

Blood.

He was bleeding. But where from? Barring the sting of his scabs and that kick to the head, nothing hurt. There were no wounds hiding under his sleeves or -

A hiss sounded from the Deputy beside him, curling in on herself.

Shit.

She hadn’t elbowed him.

“Cora-” John scrambled for her. "Cora, let me see."

“Told you not to call me that.” The Deputy grit out, kicking at him until she’d well and truly jammed herself into the corner of the seat and the car door. Her left hand gripped her right forearm, just below the elbow and to no avail. Crimson coated the skin on her side, encasing her arm completely and seeping through her fingertips.

She was bleeding. Not heavily, but steadily.

”Deputy.” John bit back, advancing. “You’re hurt. Let me help-”

Just like that, the kicking resumed. “Don’t touch me-DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME-”

“For once in your fucking life, just relax!”

Only incomprehensible snarling came in response.

John rolled his jaw, brimming with as much irritation as he was adrenaline. The Resistance had made their choice. Regretful, but final. He’d gotten what he came for, and he wasn’t intending on losing her just because she was too stubborn to accept help.

He glanced at the revolver still in his grip. Then back at Cora, rotating the grip toward her. A threat. “Are you going to let me help, or am I going to have to calm you down?”

“Don’t you dare.” Her words came hoarse. She gave scowling a red hot go, but without the rationale to deny him, the Deputy lacked conviction. She exhaled. “Fuck it. We've done this enough already. You get ten minutes. Then you’re under arrest.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her cheek twitched. A weak chuckle. The slightest flash of acknowledgement as she let him press his weight over her forearm. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t pulsing; nor was there a puncture wound. A gouged strip had been carved into her flesh where the bullet had grazed, but nothing vital seemed to have been struck.

“That - you can keep saying.”

"You're a flirt when you're in shock, Deputy." Had John not been too busy regulating about a dozen other emotions, he might have flushed at her words. For a moment, he just sat there, basking in the borderline friendliness on her face. Then, it occurred to him that they were among watchful company, and he cleared his throat, returning to his task.

Minutes passed. No more words were exchanged. Not until they’d passed the Rye and Son’s sign.

The Chosen in the front passenger’s seat looked over his shoulder, dismissing another over the radio before regarding the Baptist. “The Resistance isn’t making ground. The faithful are still rounding up stragglers, and we’ve taken casualties, but numbers are looking strong. Medic will meet you at the ranch, John. We can deliver our newest sister to the Gate while you recover.”

John inclined his head. “Much obliged. We need this one to stay with us until she’s completed her vows. She can’t be trusted unsupervised, but I won’t put the responsibility of containing her back on our people again.” He looked to Cora, then. Her face had run pale and she’d gone clammy, but she remained upright. Just...woozy. Pacified, for now.

He’d got what he came for. Fuck the rest.

“I have something to say.” The blonde announced, swaying against John’s arm. “I know why Mary May shot me.”

“This another one of your jokes?” John deadpanned.

“This one’s funny, I swear.”

“...go on, then.”

“It’s because I never tip.”

For a moment, Cora looked very satisfied with herself. Then, she retched, slumping forward into the Baptist’s lap when he instinctually jolted out of the potential line of fire. He hurried to steady her, keeping tight hold over her wound, and grimaced while the noise escaped her a second time.

Thank God nothing came out; his shoes would’ve been the first to know about it.

The Deputy didn’t sit back up.

That was fine. So long as she wasn’t dead. So long as she wasn’t fighting back.

“It’s all the sin escaping you.” John explained, off-handed, when a complaining grunt sounded below. “Evil being expelled from your body. You’ll feel better soon.”

“Pretty sure it’s my blood pressure, actually. Soon as I’m good again, you’re history.”

When one disregarded the fact that she’d had a gun trained on him earlier - and the blood drying uncomfortably on his clothes - and the persistent pounding of a headache from Mary May’s heel, this was almost pleasant. The quiet roads. The Deputy, all but atoned with her head on his thigh. Not fighting back. Conceding defeat. Peaceful.

He got what he came for.

He’d won.

He was saved.

Passing his thumb over Cora’s ribs, John’s attention was pulled back to the old ink peeking out from beneath the band of her top. Text, blurred and flattened enough to be years old, and too obscured to decipher.

“Thought I’d be your first.” The brunette murmured.

“Jealous?”

Yes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What’s it say?”

“‘The Mountains Are Calling’.”

A sickening wave of dread passed over the Baptist. The rock forming in his throat, icy and bitter and seizing him against any reply.

The mountains are calling.

Jacob. Joseph. The Trials. Atonement wasn’t the final step. Handing her over to his brothers was the final step.

He got what he came for, but the woman in his arms wasn’t the trophy intended for him.

He was saved. He’d redeemed himself. He’d completed his task and Joseph would permit him beyond the gates. That was all he was supposed to do. That was enough.

That had to be enough.

“‘And I Must Go’.” John completed quietly.

Cora tilted her head a little, not quite looking at him - almost like she was trying not to. “You know John Muir.”

“Not enough to warrant a photo on the bedside table.”

“Shut up.”

There was nothing convincing about the chuckle he offered. He was too busy observing her, studying the side of her face. Committing her to memory as if he hadn’t spent years acquainting himself with every spot and micro-expression.

“Maybe working for you will be bearable.” She murmured, and John’s heart only sank further. "If I don't manage to arrest you."

The mountains are calling.

She still had no idea that all the promises he’d made her had been fabricated. That she wouldn’t be staying. That he’d lied to her.

The mountains were calling. In a few days time, she’d know it. She’d despise him. She’d be taken off his hands and he’d assume his regular duties once again.

He’d saved both of them.

Cora’s thumb absently grazed back and forth on his knee. Ignorant. “Can I ask something?”

It took everything in him not to mirror the action against her skin.

“Of course.”

“Can I start next Monday?”

"What happened to you being such a workaholic?"

"To be honest with you, I'm really fucking tired."

She’d be incredible. Jacob would love her. Joseph would be proud. John had accomplished something near-impossible for his family, and even if the Deputy hated him - even if she forgot him entirely, he was content with the knowledge that he’d have brought her to salvation.

Even if they never saw each other again, he’d know that she’d passed through the gates. That she’d climb to the surface once the world had been scorched clean. She’d rebuild, and marry, and have children, and he’d do the same.

Hopeful anticipation and the agony of longing had never felt so similar before.

“Fine.” John smiled, giving in, sliding his fingers up her arm and coaxing a stray lock of hair out of her face. There were no promises he’d be able to do it again after this. “But on one condition.”

“What?”

“Spend those days with me.”

Cora stirred, angling to peer up at him out of the corner of her eye. She smiled crookedly.

“Deal.”

#far cry 5 #john seed #cora stammos #far cry 5 fanfic #far cry 5 oc #john seed x female deputy #all hail cora's big fucking muscles #no beta we die like men

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babybluebex · 3 years

Text

fine line [arvin russell x reader]

➽ pairing: arvin russell x fem!reader(y/n) ➽ word count: 2.6k ➽ summary: desperados pt.2! you and arvin deal with the emotional fallout of your crimes, and you plan on how to move forward. ➽ warnings: explicit language, mentions of violence ➽ a/n: enjoy!

The sun was just rising over the Ohio hills when I woke up. My mind immediately began to whir with the memories of last night, and my stomach turned when I remembered exactly what had happened. Arvin had killed the pastor. We had absconded from Coal Creek and come to rest in Knockemstiff, Ohio. Arvin had parked us on an empty stretch of road to rest for a few hours before we finished what we needed to do, and, by the looks of the golden sunlight, we had slept for a little more than a few hours.

Arvin and I were snug in the backseat, his strong arms secure around me. It felt good to have him holding me after the events of the night before, which kept repeating in my head every few seconds. The crack of the gun and the accompanying shattering of Preston Teagardin’s skull, and my screaming. Good lord, did I scream. My throat still hurt from it. I knew that Arvin was as damaged as I was. He would never admit to a single soul, probably not even to me, that what he had done bothered him, but, as I lay in his arms and listened to his even and sleepy breathing, I heard little mumbles on exhales. Some of the words were unintelligible, but some were clear. My name, Teagardin’s name, and sometimes even “gun”.

Then, after a few minutes of quiet, Arvin scared himself awake with a mighty shout. His eyes were wide, his irises the darkest brown, and his mouth was open as he gulped down air. Immediately, I jumped into action, and I pressed my hand to his chest and my lips to his ear. “Hush, my love,” I whispered sweetly, carefully rubbing his collarbones and pectorals. “You’re alright. You’re fine, love.”

Arvin was breathing so heavily and his heart was beating so quickly; it reminded me of when my daddy had a heart attack when I was little. It terrified me. “Arv, look at me now,” I said quickly and tugged his chin to force him to look at me. “You’re alright. I am too. We’re fine. Look at me. We’re alright.”

Arvin passed his hand under his nose with a sniffle, and he stretched himself to look out the window. “Where’re we?” he mumbled, his voice low and rough.

“We’re in Knockemstiff, my love,” I told him. “You said you wanted to come here… To bury your dog, I think? And then you said we’d start over somewhere else.”

Arvin nodded, as if remembering what all he had said. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, you’re right. I do… But I… Goddamn it.”

“But you what?” I asked.

“I don’t even know if Jack-dog’s still there,” Arvin mumbled under his breath. He sat up fully and cleared his throat, and he wrenched the car door open. He swung his legs out of the car and sighed, and the weight of the entire world settled on his shoulders. “Fuck. Fuck me, fuck all’a this!”

I knew that there wasn’t much that Arvin would let me do to help calm him down, so I extended my hand to him and pushed the curling strands of long hair at his nape off of his neck. It was the ultimate least that I could do. I was quiet, just listening for anything that Arvin might whisper to me, and I finally heard the catch of his breath deep in his throat.

As much as I hated it, I knew this sound. It haunted me like a ghost, even though I had only heard it once before. It was the middle of the afternoon and I was reading on my front porch, and the old rusty burgandy Chevy had rattled up into our front yard. Arvin got out and looked at me for a second, his lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes red and puffy, and I had whispered, “Arv, what’s wrong? S’it Emma?”

Then, he had thrown his arms around me and buried his face in my neck, and his breath caught in his throat just as it did in the car. Then, he cried. They were painful sobs, tearing his throat apart and shivering down his spine. It was the most awful thing I had ever heard. A dying animal, choking and trying to die in peace, hoping for a quick death. A part of Arvin had died with Lenora.

Instantly, from my place behind him, my arms went around his waist and I held him as he folded and cried. I wasn’t sure exactly why he was crying; did he regret what he had done? He was probably overwhelmed and emotionally raw. Scratch that, I knew he was. And there was fuck-all I could do about it. I could only hold onto him and press my cheek into his back and pray to God that we would end up alright. The police had probably already found Preston’s body. They probably had found it last night and were still scrambling to find the sick person who could have killed a man of the cloth.

“Arv--” I began, but his hand on mine stopped me.

“You don’t gotta say nothing,” Arvin whispered, his voice cracking and breaking. “Please don’t say anything right now. Just…” He paused to wipe his nose dry, and he said, “Let’s get going. The sooner we get outta here, the better.”

I agreed that that idea was good, but the 1951 Chevy had other ideas. Arvin turned the key and it sputtered out its last breath before there was a crack like a gunshot, and the engine rattled to a quiet death. His car had done this once before a few months ago and it had taken a mechanic from nearby St. Albans to bring it back from the dead, but no such Frankensteinian event could ever take place between just me and Arvin.

I could feel his anger radiating off of him, and it made me feel sick. “What now?” I mumbled.

Arvin was quiet for a moment, then he mumbled, “We gotta hitchhike into town.”

“Arvin, seriously?”

“Well, what the fuck do you want from me, huh?” Arvin snapped. “The goddamn car’s broken and I can’t fix it and I bet you can’t either! We gotta get into town so I can bury my goddamn dog, and then we can figure out the car bullshit from there!”

“Arv, what’s so special about this dog?” I asked. “I mean, you haven’t lived here in years. Do you really think there’s anything left to bury?”

“I do,” Arvin huffed. “There’s gotta be. I need for there to be somethin’, anything there.”

“Arvin, this isn’t about your dog, is it?” I asked softly.

“It is, Y/N,” Arvin said. “It is. See, I… Fuck. I don’t wanna tell you this.”

“Then don’t.”

“No!” Arvin shouted. “I gotta! Or else you-- You need to know. I wanna marry you and I don’t want you not knowing.”

There was too much to unpack in that statement, so I decided to unwind it piece by piece. “Not knowing what?”

Arvin sighed, and he leaned over to me. His tanned hands hesitated over my legs for a moment, then he pressed his head into my chest, right under my chin. My hand instinctively went to his hair, raking it up and off of his forehead, something my mom used to do when I was sick. It was the smallest comfort in the world, but I knew that Arvin needed it.

“I was about seven,” Arvin began, whispering into my skin. “My momma got really sick. She had cancer, the kind that shows up and takes ya within a year. My dad had always been a little… He was over in Japan during the war and it messed him up, I think. Emma used to tell me stories about my daddy when he was my age and he wasn’t the same man I knew. But my daddy was real religious, just like Emma is. He built this cross out in the forest behind our house and prayed there every single day; sometimes more than once. When Momma got sick, he started taking me out there. Don’t matter if it was raining or hailing or sweltering, we’d be out by that log, praying for hours. If I wasn’t doing it loud enough, he’d hit me and tell me to do it louder. He’d ask if I wanted my momma to get better and that I’d better pray loud enough for the lord to hear me if I wanted Him to answer my prayers. Eventually, Daddy got the idea that some sorta… Sacrifice… Would make the lord hear our prayers, so he--”

I titled Arvin’s head up to look at me, swiped away the tears that were gathering at the corner of his lips, and I shook my head. I could tell where the story was going, and he didn’t need to finish it. He nuzzled his face into my hand, his eyes squeezing shut, and he said, “I mean it, ya know?”

“Mean what, Arv?” I whispered, kissing his hair.

“I wanna marry you,” Arvin said. “I’ve wanted that for a long time and… We’ll go across the country, to Washington or Oregon or whichever has the best ocean. We’ll get new names and we’ll get married and we can forget all of this shit. I’ll give you the life you deserve, baby, I swear.”

“I don’t deserve no goddamn good life,” I said, blinking away my tears. “I don’t even deserve you.”

“Don’t you start with that,” Arvin said. “Yes, you do. You deserve nothing but a good life, a great life. You… You had that all until last night. I-I can take you back.” He sat up suddenly and wiped his face with his fingers. “Let me take you home and you can blame me, you can say I fuckin’ kidnapped you--”

“Arvin, babe, please!” I cried. “I don’t want that! I want you! Let’s do what you said, let’s go to the coast! Let’s get married! I just need to be away from everything I’ve ever known and-- Shit, Arvin, I love you and I ain’t going nowhere. I’m with you, Arv. I swear.”

Arvin stopped his frantic fidgeting, and he looked at me. His eyes were blown wide and rimmed with red, and he finally took a deep breath. “Let’s--” he whispered. “Let’s go, then. Let’s start walking.”

We managed to secure a motel room in town. It was quiet and a little dusty, and the air smelled like mildew, but it meant so much to me and Arvin. It was a new beginning, renewed hope. We would leave, and we could forget all about Teagardin.

Arvin left to do his business with his dog and, when he came back, the sun had dipped below the horizon. I was in the bathtub, attempting to soak away the past twenty-four hours, and I hardly noticed that Arvin was even back until his frame came to linger in the doorway. His hair had gone curly from the summer humidity, and it hung in his eyes as he watched me move to rest my arms on the side of the yellow ceramic bathtub. His eyes were dark. There was something there that wasn’t before. I knew that it wasn’t anything bad, but I wasn’t sure it was good either.

“How’re you?” Arvin asked quietly.

I shrugged and rested my cheek against the cool side of the tub. “Just having a soak,” I mumbled. “How did everything go out there?”

It was Arvin’s turn to shrug. “Got it done,” he said. “Ran into a sheriff man on my way back.”

“Really?” I asked. “What happened?”

“He just asked why I was walking,” Arvin said. “Said I was doing somethin’ up at my old house. And…” He shook his head a little and laughed. “It was the same sheriff who helped me when my daddy died. ‘Course, he’s a couple years older now but I recognized his name. I don’t know if he recognized me, though. Anyway…”

I extended my hand towards him, and he came to me. His strong hand grabbed mine, and he settled himself on the floor next to the bathtub. Arvin’s hands were dirty, soil stuck beneath his fingernails and in the lines on his palm, and I dragged his hand into the water and began to clean him off. “How about we turn in early tonight,” I started quietly. “And get a head start tomorrow? We can hitchhike our way across the country.”

Arvin nodded. “I’d like that,” he whispered. Then, a few moments later, he added, “Do you want kids?”

I had to think for a minute. Generally, yes, I did. But I wasn’t sure I wanted them with Arvin. Not because I thought Arvin would be a bad father, because I knew that he wouldn’t be, but because I didn’t know for sure if he wanted them. I finally nodded. “Sure,” I said. “I always felt like I was made to be a mama, ya know? How about you?”

“I do,” Arvin said. “But I’m scared as hell. I don’t wanna be my daddy. The way he treated me, I don’t want my baby to deal with that.”

“But you won’t be like your daddy,” I said, and I exchanged his hands in the water. “Because you can recognize what your daddy did wrong, and you can make sure you don’t do that. I don’t think there’s such a thing as perfect parents, I think everybody’s parents screw up somehow, but that’s all we can do, is try and be good.”

Arvin nodded, only just acknowledging that I had said anything to him. He slumped down further than before and rested his head on the edge of the tub, and I used a wet hand to brush his hair away from his eyes. I had always loved Arvin’s eyes. It was one of the first things I noticed about him on that bus back in seventh grade. Beautiful, I called them, even though he always scoffed at me. “They’re brown,” he mumbled. “What’s so special about brown?”

My internal monologue forced me to take Arvin’s face in my hands and kiss his eyes gently. I felt my lips damped with tears that he had been trying so hard to hold back, and, when I pulled away, the crystals clung to his eyelashes. “We’ll be alright,” I told him. “We’ll be alright.”

The water had run cold by the time Arvin took a deep breath and sat himself up. “I wanna carry you to bed,” he told me as I pulled the drain. “Kiss ya, hold ya, like a man oughta treat his wife, ya know?”

“We ain’t even married yet,” I laughed.

“Well, then, I’d say I have a head start,” Arvin told me with a playful smile.

He wrapped me in a towel and picked me up easily, and he moved my legs to hook around his waist. I was so acutely aware of how close to him I was and the way that the rough denim of his jeans rubbed into my thigh and cunt, but I didn’t care all that much. Arvin was gentle as he put me down on the bed, and he did good on his promise to kiss me and hold me. He kissed me like it was his dying wish, and his hands felt my body as if he revered it. His hands, strong and tough from work, grasped my legs, and he slotted himself easily between them. The smell and feel of him was so comforting, just like last night, and I loved it. “I love you,” I whispered.

“I love you so fucking much,” Arvin snuffled into my neck. “So much, darlin’. We’ll get our happy ending, I know it.”

“We won’t get it,” I said. “We already have it.”

#arvin russell #tom holland #the devil all the time #tdatt #fanfiction #arvin russell x reader #arvin russell x y/n #arvin russell fluff #arvin russell angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfiction #yes this is named after a harry song lmao #i feel like the mood fits it yknow

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xaphrin · 4 years

Text

A Dragon’s Hoard

I just really wanted to have more of Raven’s perspective. This chapter isn’t quite finished yet, but it’s halfway there. So it’s also kind of a sneak-peek.

- - -

Raven woke up to the sound of a pencil scratching on heavy paper, barely interrupting the gentle breeze that rocked the silver leaves of the birch tree she was lying under.The mid-morning air felt surprisingly cool for the season, but they had already climbed so far this morning, so the altitude was likely playing a part. They would return to her den before nightfall, which was better than she hoped. Staying human for this long allowed her many advantages, but speed and efficient travel was certainly not one of them.

She lifted her arms above her head and stretched, feeling the wound along her back tug sharply with the movement. Wincing, Raven set her arms back down and assessed the pain she was feeling. It wasn’t as bad as it had been the first night she dragged Damian into her den. In fact, it was healing far faster than she had anticipated, and it wouldn’t be much longer before she was completely healed.

Which only meant one more thing - their inevitable rematch.

Her heart sank at that thought. All those weeks ago, she had been so sure of herself and her decision to keep him. Damian was simply a curiosity, a passing fancy that she could easily destroy once she was well enough to transform again. She thought she could keep her hands to herself, and keep her eyes from wandering - he was only human, after all. Not a powerful sorcerer, or sharp-witted fae, or a strong changeling, like the others who had tried to court her. But… she was wrong. So very, very wrong.

Raven tried to ignore the subtle burn of their mating that simmered just under her skin. The mark she would bear until her dying breath. Which, given the circumstances, would be very soon.

With a soft sigh, she finally opened her eyes, looking up at the lace patterns of the leaves above her, sunlight filtering down onto her naked skin. She glanced around at the weather-worn, moss-covered stones of the ruins around her - a testament to the old gods that this world had forgotten. She imagined her mother walking these stone floors, singing her prayers, innocent and unaware of the horrors Arellla would be subjected to. And, for once in all of Raven’s life, the ruins of the temple felt… peaceful. Before, when she had visited, they seemed haunting, like whispers of ghosts meant to pin her to her past. But now…

She couldn’t stop a small smile from tugging at her lips as she thought about the pleasures Damian had given her here. His mouth was a gift, and one she fully intended on enjoying at every possible moment. He banished those ghosts from her past, and drowned her in the rich headiness of the present. Raven moved to sit up, pushing at her hair.

“Lay back down, I’m not finished yet.”

Her eyes fluttered, and Raven turned to see Damian watching her from under his too-thick lashes. He was perched on the edge of what would have been an altar three hundred years ago, a leather bound book in one hand, and an old, charcoal pencil in another. Well. He was full of surprises and mysteries, wasn’t he? She watched him for just a moment before laying back down on the wool blanket, looking up at the sky. A soft flush worked its way down her neck, and she swallowed.

It was one thing to be seen like this by Damian and trapped in his memories, but it felt different to have it be recorded on paper. She shifted her hips, feeling warmth flood just below her navel. There was something exciting about it - about being viewed as something worthy of art. It excited her. She clenched her thighs without thinking, and Damian clicked his tongue at the movement.

“I’m not done yet.” He paused and glanced up at her for a moment before returning to the sketch in his hand. “Don’t even think about touching yourself.”

It was a command, and one she desperately wanted to defy, but she also knew if she played along, he’d reward her later. Raven felt a smirk pull at her lips, trying to decide what was more intriguing to her - his punishment or reward?

She wet her lips and sighed. “How long was I asleep?”

“Barely half an hour.” The sound of his charcoal on the paper filled the space between them. “I didn’t know your constitution was so weak, dragon.” There was a hint of a smile in his voice, but Raven didn’t dare look at him, or he might view it as a weakness. Damian hummed and returned to the sketch. “Passing out after I devoured you seems like something an innocent virgin would do, not a wanton dragon who reads filthy pastoral poetry. I was simply enjoying something sweet after our lunch.”

She snorted, her mind suddenly filled with the memories of his mouth buried between her thighs. He hadn’t stopped when she came, his tongue and fingers relentless, and brought her to the highest heavens at least two more times. Her body had been weak with pleasure, her energy drained, of course she was going to fall asleep. She needed time to gather her wits after what he’d done to her. What she wanted him to do again.

Raven’s legs clenched again and she rubbed her ankles together. “Your tastes seem insatiable.”

“And yet you continue to give into them.” He chuckled and glanced at her, the shadows in his verdant eyes darkening with something akin to a warning. “I would be careful, dragon. If you give too much, I might mistake it as though you are falling in love with me.”

“Never.” Lies. She knew where her heart stood already, and she had accepted her fate.

“You are my possession, knight.”

Hardly. She was clearly possessed by him, and she would give him the world if he asked her.

“I intend on using you until I see fit.”

She could give herself to him freely until there was nothing left.

“Mm…” He rubbed his thumb along the paper, creating a soft shadow somewhere on her form. He glanced at her before turning the page to a fresh one. “Spread your legs, dragon.”

Carefully, she did, knowing he could see every inch of her from where he sat.

“Touch yourself.”

Raven barely contained the soft, needy sigh that danced on her lips. She never looked away from him as her hands slid between her legs. She was wet, and willing, and eager. Her hips shifted and she took time to explore herself, sliding her fingers up and down her, barely dipping inside, before circling her clit. With a soft gasp, she closed her eyes and rubbed her clit with slow, hard circles, feeling electricity snap up and down her spine. She heard Damian move off the edge of the altar, the heavy sound of his boots coming closer.

He knelt down next to her and hummed in her ear, the vibration alone nearly making her orgasm. His teeth caught her earlobe for just a moment before he released her, sitting back to watch. “I want to draw that look of pleasure when you come.”

Which, given the current state of her, would be very soon. Raven’s teeth sunk into her lower lip and she let go of a strained cry as her hips shifted restlessly. She brought her other hand down and speared two fingers inside herself, the added friction making it feel like she was losing her mind. Next to her she could hear Damian’s heavy breathing and frantic sketching, as if he was afraid he might lose her in the moment. She could hear his heavy breathing and smell the scent of his own lust in the air. Her back arched and she thrust her fingers deep inside herself, hearing his pencil pause for just a moment before he continued to try and finish the picture.

She groaned and shifted again. “My knight.”

“I’m recording the moment.” His voice was low, strained, as if this was his own brand of delicious torture. His charcoal was a blur, and his eyes flicked between her and the page in front of him. “If you fall - so be it, dragon.”

Raven didn’t need another command, and her head tipped back as she felt her body start to soar. She let go of a cry that echoed the thunder of the night before, and felt her muscles clench on her fingers, pulling her deeper. Everything felt heavy and still, and she let herself lose her breath and her mind for a few blissful seconds before falling back down to the rough, wool blanket beneath her.

“Put it away.”

He lifted an eyebrow, as if surprised that she dared to give him an order.

Raven reached over and plucked the sketch book from his hand, smirking. She slid her hand up the front of his breeches, finding his erection heavy and thick. It would feel wonderful was he was buried inside her. Her lashes fluttered and she let go of a low sigh, stroking him through the thick fabric. She had just come, but she was ready again - ready for him to drown her in something hotter than dragonfire. “Put it away and put your cock inside me, Jewel of my Hoard.”

He groaned and Raven knew she won this battle. Her hand pressed harder against his erection, her pace increasing as her other hand flicked open the catches on his belt. Damian growled and pushed her back onto the blanket, crawling over her, but not removing a single item of clothing. The scabbard of his sword slid up the outside of her leg, and the sensation of metal and leather over her skin seemed to drive her wild. Her fingers moved to the catch on his cloak, desperate to remove it.

Damian pulled her hands off him, trailing his fingertips over her shoulders, over her chest, between her breasts, and ended circling her navel. His smile turned malicious, and he dipped his thumb in between her thighs, simply pressing it against her clit. It was torture when Raven wanted friction between them.

He leaned back and stood up, adjusting his clothes and ignoring the blatant erection ragin between his thighs. “Maybe I’ll let you suffer a little longer.”

With that, he turned on his heel, leaving Raven smoldering as she lay on the moss-covered stone of the temple ruins. A small smirk pulled at her lips and she closed her eyes, letting the burn of need fuel her seemingly endless desire for later. Although she was going to die by his hand in the next few months, there was no doubting that he would make their time together… interesting.

#damirae #demonbirds #adult nonsense ahead #dragon shifter au #xaphrin's birthday queue 2020

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blouisparadise · 4 years

Photo

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

1) Louis Punishments | Mature | 1759 words

Just a bunch of punishments Harry has given to Louis.

2) Hoping To Discover A Certain Kind Of Lover | Explicit | 2353 words

He knew the basic idea of what was supposed to happen. It was the entire point of the film Zayn was working on. To match up unmated alpha and omega strangers and to film them as they kissed for the first time. The two of them shuffled awkwardly back and forth, unsure of what to do.

Enough was enough. “I’m gonna just go for it, yeah?” Harry suggested, and Louis nodded quickly, already leaning closer to him.

Everything was hesitant at first. Tender lips met, and all of it was soft and new, neither of them wanting to overstep. A little zing of anticipation and something unfamiliar shot down Harry’s spine as he swallowed the tiny sound of surprise Louis made. Neither alpha nor omega were pushing, but that was the point of all of this, wasn’t it? To see what happened when people let go and let themselves be? Harry figured he would try. For the sake of the experiment, of course.

Gently, so, so gently, Harry slid his hand up the side of Louis’s throat, cupping his jaw to hold him as close as he could. Their lips finally, finally, finally parted, and Harry could taste the hint of tea and honey lingering on Louis’s tongue. Suddenly and all at once, he couldn’t get enough.

3) Irresistible | Mature | 2380 words

Louis goes into his first heat at school and no one is able to resist him. Harry - who's been in love with him since forever - fucks and bonds him in the toilets.

4) Signed, No Name | Mature | 4647 words

Harry doesn’t know Blue, he just knows that he leaves random notes in the corners of the books he checks out, and he’s head over heels for him.

5) It Could've Been Worse | Not Rated | 4949 words

The one where a pandemic happens, harry is obssessed and louis hates apps made for 15 years old.

6) Take Me To The Stars | Explicit | 5840 words

Staring at his darling daughter, in the middle of the pasta aisle, Louis found himself on the edge of a neurotic breakdown.

"It’s your birthday tomorrow! And your papa better not do anything to muck it up! Because your dada worked very hard to organise it! And all of your aunties and grannies and granddads and friends will be there!” Louis continued in a sweet sing-song voice that seemed to get increasingly frantic as he continued. “And if your papa is in rut, then what? What’ll we do, honey girl? Your dada will be too busy! And your papa will be too horn-”

“Louis,” Harry interrupted, touching Louis’ arm. “I’ll be okay. It’s probably not even my rut. I can appreciate you… all of you… even when I’m not in rut.”

Louis looked at him skeptically, imagining the shitshow that would be Harry in rut, surrounded by family and friends, at their child’s first birthday party. “I hope you’re right, H.”

7) Kiss Like Fire | Explicit | 9093 words

Harry watches as his uncle's new omega walks around the backyard, serving canapés and drinks to all of the family members gathered. Harry is surrounded by his cousins, all sat together, too young for the adults but too old for the kids and teens. He lifts his beer to his lips and takes a sip when the omega crouches down by one of Harry's younger cousins and hands her a small cracker, sending her off with a sweet smile.

He watches as his uncle comes out of the house, sliding the patio door shut behind him and quickly making his way over to his omega. The omega looks up at him when he wraps an arm around his waist. His pretty lips move with soft-spoken words. Harry has to fight to keep his alpha in check when his dirty old uncle's hand dips down, grabbing at the omega's ass and making him jump.

"Dude," one of his cousins says, "Uncle Darron's new omega is such a milf."

8) Waking Up Alone | Mature | 10060 words

"Nothing makes you hurt like hurting who you love"

Love shouldn't hurt, loving somebody with everything you have shouldn't make you feel like you're dying. Louis feels like he’s drowning. He should have known where this was going from the start, he should have been prepared. Now he’s waking up in an empty bed, some days he doesn’t want to even wake up again. There's a hole in his heart; it's in the shape of Harry. Nothing he does can fill it. Drugs, alcohol, pouring out his heart into songs that Harry probably won't ever hear. When Louis is with him, he feels like he’s in heaven. Being alone, that's what he feels he deserves, at least Harry can be happier without him.

Maybe if they met at a different time, under different circumstances, he could have saved them. Louis had to do what was best for Harry, but it kills him a little everyday. Louis sees his smile everyday, but he knows it's no longer for him. Someone else makes Harry happier, but Louis wanted it to be him. They could have had forever. Louis would have given Harry everything.

"Forget what I said, it's not what I meant" Harry had tried to say, but Louis knew that wasn't the truth. After everything they’ve been through, Louis still loves him.

9) To The Beat Of My Own Drum | Explicit | 10285 words

A collection of drabbles.

10) Alone Too Long | Explicit | 10371 words

By the time The Temptress finally reached bay, the Captain only had one thing on his mind, and that one thing was Louis Darling.

11) Straight Boy | Explicit | 12251 words

Young, brunette and handsome, Louis attracts unwanted attention in prison. When his cellmate offers him protection, Louis accepts the offer, even though he doesn’t trust the guy. Little does he know how much it will change his life.

When he’s released from prison, Louis finds himself needing and wanting things he shouldn’t want. Louis is straight. He is. He has a girlfriend. What happened in prison stayed in prison—or so Louis tells himself.

Until he meets his former cellmate again. Harry. The guy he hates and craves.

12) Beautiful Crime | Not Rated | 13282 words

Note: This fic contins no explicit smut but since it’s a/b/o we’ve decided to include it in this monthly roundup.

Louis is keen to defeat the one and only Alpha Harry Styles who has a notorious reputation in the entire country for his ruthlessness but a turn of events brings them on crossroads which deviate from their havens of war.

13) Anticipation | Explicit | 14156 words

Louis' a stripper. Harry's the new club owner. Louis decides he wants to get in his new boss' pants fairly quickly, but it might take more work than he thought to do that.

14) Strong Enough | Explicit | 20787 words

“So…” Liam starts, and Louis instantly knows where this is going. He’s actually glad it’s Liam that's dragging the subject out from the shadows and into the light. Louis turns to face him, mirroring his position on the couch and nods, ready for him to continue. Liam takes a deep breath. “Have you spoken to Harry recently?”

Five years after Vertigo goes on hiatus, the band comes back together for a benefit concert. Can Louis and Harry work through their complicated past, or are some wounds too deep to be healed?

15) Alpha and Omega | Not Rated | 22270 words

Note: There is no smut where someone bottoms in this fic, but it contains omega Louis, so we’ve included it in this monthly roundup.

Louis finds a new sense of self when the son of the werewolf leader, Harry Styles, comes to town to quell unrest in the Chicago pack and inspires a power in Louis that he never felt before.

Not my own work but rather a reimagination of the book Alpha and Omega with Harry and Louis.

16) Amazing Grace | Mature | 24290 words

Harry’s a dedicated pastor who's happily married, Louis is the troubled youth that stumbles into his life.

17) A Trail Of Honey Through It All | Explicit | 27083 words

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

18) Just a Bit Twisted | Explicit | 30548 words

Professor Harry Styles is hated and feared by all of his students. Strict, reserved and ruthless, he doesn’t tolerate mistakes and has little patience for his students.

Louis Tomlinson is a twenty-year-old struggling to provide for his younger sisters after the death of their parents. On the verge of losing his scholarship, Louis becomes desperate enough to go to Professor Styles.

Everyone says Styles doesn’t have a heart. Everyone says he’s a ruthless bastard. Louis finds out that everyone is right.

He strikes a deal with Styles, but unexpectedly, the deal turns into something so much more.

Something all-consuming and addictive.

Something neither of them wants.

19) Like It's A Game | Explicit | 32223 words

There is little harry hates more than truth or dare.

20) We'll Be the Fine Line | Not Rated | 32474 words

“…Hey, Harry. It’s Louis…… um, yeah. Listened to the album tonight. It’s real good mate. Um, yeah, just real, impressed. I was kinda putting it off, ya’know, didn’t know if I wanted to listen to it. Saw you went on James and, uh, Saturday Night Live. Couldn’t watch you, have a hard time watching you on these things……. Anyway, mate, just thought I would drop a line. Don’t need to call me back. Alright.”

Louis listens to Fine Line, and, drunk, he leaves a voicemail for Harry after months of not speaking. This reminds Harry of a time before everything fell apart, slowly, painfully, a time when the two of them were still in love. And he desperately wants to go back.

21) The Space Between | Explicit | 33074 words

Living in East Verona was a privilege. One Prince Harry only found out when he decided to cross the borders into The Zone looking for entertainment, a temptation, a distraction, anything that would allow him to escape his boring, mundane life of luxury.

But what he found was something he never could have expected - poverty, destruction, chaos, but most importantly, a blue-eyed boy.

Together, they embark on a journey plagued with hazards and risks and twists and turns.

Can these two star-crossed souls fight for their freedom and keep each other safe at the same time?

22) Yes, Daddy, I Will | Not Rated | 33510 words

Where Harry is a dom and Louis is his cute little sub.

23) Last Blues For Bloody Knuckles | Explicit | 34241 words

Styles was a name everyone knew. It had evolved into something of a fairy tale, a far away problem that normal people didn’t have to deal with. Louis never thought he’d find himself falling in love with him. When he finds himself pregnant with Harry’s child, he knows he has to leave the life, and Harry, behind. For her sake.

He never expected Harry to show back up on his doorstep five years later.

24) Before We Knew | Explicit | 39593 words

Or Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed into his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

25) Hit Me With Your Sweet Love | Explicit | 39690 words

Powerful people only end up with powerful people. The rest are just playthings in their lives. Louis Tomlinson was many things, but he wasn’t anybody’s plaything.

26) Stole My Heart | Mature | 51343 words

Louis doesn't want much. A warm bed, and people who care about him.

Harry has everything he needs, despite his mother insisting he needs a mate. Money, status, and any omega he wants, why lock his heart down.

Until Louis comes along, and steals it.

27) No Going Back | Explicit | 56102 words

Sales reps Harry and Louis are bored with their jobs and their lives. After meeting at a conference in Cardiff they hook up, have a few too many drinks, and jokingly apply to become remote lighthouse keepers. Six months, just the two of them, looking after the southernmost lighthouse off the bottom of Australia. It’s not like their applications will be accepted. Right?

This is the story of how one choice - a left instead of a right, a go instead of a stop, a yes instead of a no - can change the future forever and that sometimes, taking that leap of faith, is worth the risk.

28) Royal Desires | Mature | 66207 words

When Prince Louis falls into an early heat, his new personal guard Harry Styles is brought in as his heat partner for the time being until Louis finds a suitable royal prince to bond and take the throne with. The only problem is that Harry is everything Louis wants but can't have. Freedom, tattoos, individuality...and quite possibly love.

29) How To Break A Heartbreaker's Heart? | Teen & Up | 67447 words

Harry is straight.

Louis is gay.

Harry happens to be homophobic.

Louis has a dark past.

Harry had a dark childhood.

Will Louis and Harry unite and defy their past? Or will homophobia win for the umpteenth time?

30) Lavender Dreams | Not Rated | 77888 words

Louis is an outgoing person that goes to school for educational psychology and Harry is a biology major who happen to run into each other... a lot.

31) Be My Omega | Mature | 138372 words

It all started when the alpha laid eyes on the short curvy omega and he knew at that moment that his life would never be the same, in a good way of course.

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

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

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

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

The Arrangement

Part 8

Summery: You are a young girl that was raised in a small church in Dallas, TX. One of the only churches left in the state that still practices arranged marriages. When your betrothed ran off to California you thought you'd escape the fate you were trained for ever since a small child. Now upon the death your parents your fate seemed to be inescapable as he's returned, and is ready to take you as his bride.

Book Warnings: Arranged marriage, loss of virginity, smut, unprotected sex, angst, language, suicide attempt, battles with anxiety, struggles with mental illness, age gap (about 11 years), I think that’s it, chapters will have warnings of their own!

Chapter Warnings: Almost smut, feels, angst, that’s pretty much it

Word Count: 1693

A/N: This book is a book about Christian and church based arranged marriages, I would like to take this moment to say that I DO NOT have ANYTHING against the Chirstian faith, and mean absolutely no harm to anyone! Especially Jensen’s family! This is a complete work of fiction, and should be treated as such!

Beta’d by the amazing @deanwanddamons who was awesome enough to do all this for me! It was a lot of work, and she deserves all the praise for it!!

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Want More? Check Out My Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

Jensen's POV:

Jensen sat alone in the early morning hours on the back porch of the hillside home he and Y/N had been living in for the past week, a cup of coffee steaming on the table next to him, mostly untouched.

He watched as the sun was just starting to reach pink over the trees, stretching odd colored rays of sunlight through the tall trees, and into the clearing of the backyard.

A light mist hung low over the grass from a rain storm that came through sometime in the middle of the night. It was as close to autumn as you could get in Texas. Cooler weather didn't come very often, and when it did you took advantage of it, because it sure wasn't going to last very long.

Everything seemed damp, still, a cool crisp to the air. One not cold enough to make you light the fireplace, but cool enough to make you throw on a light sweater.

Adjusting to this new life he was starting with Y/N had been easier for him than he thought it would be. She did mostly everything, and that was one thing he wasn't used to at all. She cooked him usually three meals a day, she cleaned, she did everything that he used to watch his grandmother and mother do as a child. It was a strange change from having to hire someone to do all those things, to having someone who would rather do it herself.

It made him wonder if his previous marriage was more of a sham than what he really realized. It also made him question his take on life in general. He still felt slightly guilty over not doing this when he should have done it years ago, and he couldn't help but wonder how different his life would have been, and how different Y/N’s life would have been, if he’d have stayed and married her like was always planned, instead of running from everything like a scalded dog.

She was still very distant to him, and he was a little afraid that she may be afraid of him. So he hadn't tried to be intimate with her again. He hadn't even left the house with her. He didn't want to make her feel like a hostage, he just didn't want to dump too much on her at one time.

It was a Sunday, and was forecasted to be a pretty day in Texas, so today he thought he'd make the best of it and take Y/N down to the boardwalk. Let her look around the shops and things that are down there, get her out of this house for a little while, maybe even go have lunch with Jared and Gen. More than likely they would be grilling today, seeing as it was Sunday, and it was a pretty day.

Jared had been on to him since the news broke that he'd remarried. It didn't take long once the pastor had filed the marriage license in the courthouse before people found out that he and Y/N had married. That was another reason he'd been hanging around the house for a week, and not leaving. He wasn't ready to expose her to that world. He also wasn't ready to share her with the world just yet either. They barely knew each other, why should he share her, when he didn't even really know her himself yet?

Still, he knew that his business being blasted all over the place was just part of his life. It was a choice he made though, not her. Why should she be subjected to such scrutiny, just because she was married to him. People were mean. That's that.

Running his hands through his hair in frustration he started to second guess the whole getting out day thing he had planned. Maybe they'd just go to Jared's later after they'd spent some more time together.

He wanted more than anything to make Y/N fall in love with him. He didn't want all those nasty people on the internet and in tabloids pushing her farther away from him. This part was harder than he ever thought it would be.

Your POV:

Fighting against the sleep intruder that was the sunlight invading your peaceful sleep, you roll over to find the side of the bed that Jensen and yourself had been sharing cold. Meaning it was probably pretty late in the morning, and Jensen was already out of bed.

Stretching your body, trying to get yourself to function enough to where you could wake up and go make breakfast for the two of you, you felt the bed dip with Jensen's weight, pulling your body close to his as he took his place on the side of you.

"I was just coming in to check on you when I saw you moving around." he said, nuzzling his face into your neck, planting little kisses from your jawbone to shoulder.

"I'm sorry I overslept. Give me a minute and I'll get your breakfast fixed." you tell him as he continues his kissing.

"M'not hungry, rather lay here with you." Jensen said, pulling you closer to his warm body and you couldn't help but melt into him. Jensen normally, or at least normally from what you can guess from only being with him for a week, wasn't that affectionate. He had his little things that he did all time. Holding your hand, kissing your cheek, sitting with this arm around you on the couch while you were watching TV, but he never basically refused to let you away from bed this way.

Rolling your body you face him and bury your head in his neck, taking a deep breath, the smell that was just uniquely Jensen filling your lungs, and you sigh a little in contentment as he starts to play with your hair.

Kissing you on the forehead, then the eyelids that you were still struggling to get open, then the checks, finally making his way to your lips. Brushing his across yours softly before returning to place his lips gently on yours.

Kissing you slowly, sweetly, taking his time with you. Getting to know you, learning the way your lips moved against his, the way his tongue felt moving over yours.

His hands travel from your hair, down your spine, and over your thigh in a feather light touch that sends shivers through your body. Every so slightly you reach up, and run you hand down his solid chest. Feeling his muscles move under your touch through his thin T-shirt.

Grabbing your hips and pulling his as close to yours as possible he ground his hips down into yours. You could feel the bulge beginning to form behind his thin sleeping pants, and boxers that he was still wearing, moaning a little into your mouth.

The sound sends a shock wave of arousal straight to your core. Your hands begin to get a little bolder, running across his shoulders and down his back. He arched himself into your touch,breaking away from kissing, and taking a deep breath like he was trying to clear his head and stay focused.

Pulling back to look at you, his astonishing jade eyes search your face in the light that was pooling into the room from the window. He put his hand on the side of your face, running his thumb over your cheek lightly before brushing his lips over yours.

This time kissing you a little deeper, with more need, Jensen rolled himself on top of you, his hand lightly up your shirt across your stomach creating little goosebumps in his wake.

Right as you were about to pull his shirt over his head his phone began to ring on his nightstand.

Putting his head down on your forehead he growled at his phone.

"It's Jared." he said, looking at the caller ID then back at you apologetically. "Give me just a few minutes okay?"

Reaching over he grabbed the phone and rolled over onto his back. You sat there quietly listening to Jensen, your mind still a little bit cloudy and breathless from what just happened to between the two of you.

You'd never allow yourself to behave that way, and your own actions caught you by surprise.

Quickly losing steam you sat up on your side of the bed a little, pulling the covers closer over your body.

Jensen finally hung up the phone and looked at you, his eyes drinking you in like it was the last time he'd ever see. Reaching over to you for to lay your head down on his shoulder.

"Jared wants us to come over to his house today for dinner. He's been throwing a fit to meet you."

You let his words sink in. This was the first time that you were going to go anywhere as a couple, and that scared you more than a little.

You didn't know how Jared would accept you. You didn't know anything at all about him really, aside from his being the co-star on the show that Jensen played on for years. You didn't know if he was a typical Hollywood douchebag. You didn't know if his wife would hate you. You didn't know anything. It scared you more than you wanted to admit to Jensen.

"Okay" was all you could manage to get out. You knew you had to face other people sooner or later, you knew you had to function in the world, you couldn't just hide away in this house.

"It'll be fine sweetheart." Jensen said, kissing your forehead lightly.Sensing your apprehension, he put his hand on the side of your face, making you look up at him. "I'd never do anything, or bring you around anyone that would hurt you okay. It will be fine."

You nod your head and nuzzle closer into his neck.

You hoped they would at least accept you. That they wouldn't hate you, and think you were just some freak or gold digger because you and Jensen were in an arranged marriage. You didn't want to know what Jensen would do if his friends rejected you, and you couldn't stand the thought of being sent back to Dallas alone.

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Tag List: @deanwanddamons @imabitch4jensen @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles series #jensen ackles smut #jensen x reader #jensen x you #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #dean winchester #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #x reader inserts #jawritter #jawritter 1k celebration #the arrangement

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waywardaardvark79 · 4 years

Text

Supernatural Rewrite: Season 1, Episode 10: Asylum

Summary: Y/N Singer joins Sam and Dean on the road. A rewrite starring you.

Pairing: eventual Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: language, show level violence

Word Count: 10,442

A/N: I’ll try to do at least one episode a week. No set schedule. Tags open.

You blinked open your eyes, trying to focus on the blurry red numbers on the clock, 2:37 AM. You tried to move around in bed, but Dean had wrapped himself around you and you couldn't move.

"De." you said, trying to move his arm, only causing him to hold on to you tighter. "Dean, come on. You gotta let me up. I gotta pee."

"Mmm...no." he sleepily mumbled, throwing one of his legs over you, further preventing your escape.

You sighed heavily, "I gotta pee." you said, Dean burying his face in the back of your neck.

"Five more minutes." he said, his lips practically touching your skin, sending a shiver down you spine.

"Let. Go." you said, your hand sliding under the covers until you found his thigh, your fingers giving it a hard pinch.

Dean shot up in bed, "What the fuck, Y/N?" he asked, glaring at you.

"I gotta pee." you said, climbing out of bed, Dean settling back down, rolling to face away from you.

"You coulda just said so." he mumbled, you shaking your head as you walked to the bathroom.

You walked into the bathroom and closed the door before flipping on the light, trying not to wake the boys. You pulled off your gloves and tossed them on the sink before using the bathroom, standing back up a few moments later to wash your hands.

You dried your hands on one of the small motel towels and flipped off the light before opening the door, forgetting your gloves on the bathroom sink.

You shuffled back to bed, half asleep, and crawled inside, Dean's back to you. You snuggled up to him, tucking your legs under his, one arm thrown over his side, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, your face buried between his shoulder blades as you breathed him in.

"Bein' the little spoon is kinda nice." you head Dean say, your mouth turning up at the corner as you chuckled under your breath, not realizing at the time that he didn't actually say that out loud.

You were still half asleep, a low murmur pulling you closer to consciousness, but your eyes remained closed as you shifted in bed, listening.

"Oh, please don't wake up. I'm not ready for you to wake up yet." you heard Dean think, stilling yourself, wondering if he would continue. "I wonder if you ever notice just how much I look at you. I would think it would be a hard thing to miss. Sam sure says it is." Dean thought before he lifted your hand from his chest, "Hmm...maybe it doesn't work when you're sleepin'. Hey, maybe you could stop sleeping in those gloves all the time. I kinda miss the way your hands feel." Dean thought, pausing for a moment, his hand wrapping around yours, "You know, there are so many things I want to tell you, but I just never can find the words or the right time." he thought, and as much as you wanted to know what he was going to say next, you moved, Dean quickly letting go of your hand as you opened your eyes.

It wasn't right to listen in on him when he didn't know you were, when he didn't think you could hear him, and part of you didn't know if you were ready to hear what he had to say.

There had been enough change in your life. You didn't know if you could handle anymore, even though you were pretty sure you were feeling the same as him.

"Hey, I didn't think you were ever gonna wake up. It's about time though, Singer. I can't feel my arm anymore." Dean said, your hand on his chest as you raised up, allowing him the room to pull his arm from under you. "Shit, Dean. Why the fuck did you have to go and say something like that?" he thought, a slight smile on your face as you sat up and pulled your hand away from him, breaking the connection.

"You'll live." you said, getting out of bed, grabbing some clothes out of your bag before walking into the bathroom to get dressed.

"Real fuckin' smooth." Dean breathed out, rubbing his hands over his face.

"What'd you do now?" Sam asked, rolling over in bed.

"What?" Dean asked, looking over at him.

"What did you do now?" Sam asked, again, the bathroom door opening before Dean could answer.

"I don't know about you guys, but I need some fuckin' coffee." you said, slipping on your gloves as you looked between them. "You guys want anything?" you asked, grabbing the keys from the table.

"Yeah, grab us some, too." Dean said, throwing the covers back.

"Alright, I'll be right back." you said, turning to head to the door.

Sam watched you go, an amused look on his face, "So, you're letting her drive now?" he asked, once you walked out.

"It's just coffee. It's no big deal." Dean said, getting up to get dressed.

Sam chuckled, "Sure it's not." he said, a smile on his face.

"Drop it, Sam. I said, it's not a big deal, so it isn't." Dean said.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say." Sam said, Dean giving him a look before walking into the bathroom.

You pushed through the motel door about twenty minutes later with a tray of coffee in your hands, Sam busy on the phone.

"No, Dad was in California last we heard from him. We just thought...he comes to you for 'munitions...maybe you've seen him in the last few weeks. Just, call us if you hear anything." Sam said.

You walked into the room and handed Dean his coffee, "Lookin' for John?" you asked, Dean nodding his head.

"Thanks." Sam said to the person on the end before hanging up.

"Caleb hasn't heard from him?" Dean asked as you handed Sam his coffee.

"Nope, and neither has Jefferson or Pastor Jim. What about the journal? Any leads in there?" Sam asked.

"No, same the last time I looked. Nothing I can make out...I love the guy, but I swear he writes like friggin' Yoda." Dean said.

"Well, what about Bobby?" Sam asked, turning to you. "Maybe he's heard from him."

"Sam, they...they don't really talk anymore. Besides, I talked to Dad yesterday and he didn't say anything about it. Believe me, if he heard from him, he would mention it." you said, Sam's face falling.

Sam thought for a moment, "You know, maybe we should call the Feds. File a missing person's." Sam said.

"We've talked about this. Dad'd be pissed if we put the Feds on his tail." Dean said.

"He's right, Sam. That'd just be bad fuckin' news." you said.

"I don't care anymore." Sam said, a cellphone ringing, Dean crossing the room to go get it. "After all that happened back in Kansas, I mean...he should've been there, guys. You both said so yourselves, and I know that both of you tried calling him and...nothing."

"I know!" Dean snapped, rummaging through his duffel, "Where the hell is my cell phone?"

"Move. I'll find it." you said, knowing an argument was about to start, and you hadn't had enough coffee to deal with it yet.

"You know, he could be dead for all we know." Sam said.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Sam. Really?" you asked, still digging through the bag.

"Don't say that! He's not dead! He's...he's..." Dean trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"He's what? He's hiding? He's busy?" Sam asked.

"Don't fuckin' start, Sam. It's too God damn early for this shit." you said, finally grabbing the phone and flipping it open, a text message from an unavailable number staring back at you, the message short and sweet, coordinates, "Well, fuck me." you said, passing the phone to Dean.

"Huh. I don't believe it." he said, his eyes on the phone.

"What?" Sam asked.

"It's, uh...it's a text message. It's coordinates." Dean said, going over to the laptop.

"You think Dad was texting us?" Sam asked Dean.

"Who else would it be?" you asked, Dean nodding his head in agreement with you.

"He's given us coordinates before." Dean said.

"Guys, the man can barely work a toaster." Sam said, looking between you and Dean.

"Sam, it's good news! It means he's okay, or alive at least." Dean said.

"Well, was there a number on the caller ID?" Sam asked.

"No, it said unknown." you answered.

"Well, where do the coordinates point?" Sam asked.

"That's the interesting part. Rockford, Illinois." Dean said.

"Ok, and that's interesting how?" Sam asked.

"Rockford, Illinois." you said, shaking your head, "Why does that sound so familiar?" you asked, Dean holding up a finger at you.

"I checked the local Rockford paper. Take a look at this. This cop, Walter Kelly, comes homes from his shift, shoots his wife, then puts the gun in his mouth, blows his brains out. And earlier that night, Kelly and his partner responded to a call at the Roosevelt Asylum." Dean said.

"Roosevelt Asylum?" you asked, Dean nodding his head.

"Okay, I'm not following. What does this have to do with us?" Sam asked.

"Dad ear marked the same asylum in the journal. Let's see." Dean said, reaching for the journal.

"I fuckin' knew that place sounded familiar." you said.

"Here. Seven unconfirmed sightings, two deaths...till last week at least. I think this is where he wants us to go." Dean said.

Sam scoffed, "This is a job...Dad wants us to work a job." he said.

"So, what if he does?" you asked, shrugging your shoulders.

"Well, maybe we'll meet up with him? Maybe he's there?" Dean said.

"Maybe he's not? I mean, he could be sending us there, by ourselves, to hunt this thing." Sam said.

"What are you getting at, Sam? It is kinda our job, so I don't see what the big deal is." you said, Dean speaking before Sam could say anything.

"Who cares! If he wants us there, it's good enough for me!" Dean said.

"This doesn't strike you guys as weird? The texting? The coordinates?" Sam asked, looking between you and Dean.

"Sam." you sighed, at a loss for words, knowing nothing that you could say to him would change his mind.

"Sam! Dad's tellin' us to go somewhere, we're goin'." Dean said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The three of you were standing in a bar, each of you looking for Daniel Gunderson, the partner of the cop that killed himself.

"Right there." you said, subtly pointing out the man who just sat down at the bar.

"Ready?" Dean asked, nudging you.

"Yeah, reporters, right?" you asked, Dean nodding his head before the two of you walked over to him.

"You're Daniel Gunderson. You're a cop, right?" Dean asked.

"Yeah." Gunderson said.

"Huh. I'm, uh, Nigel Tufnel and this is Lyla St. James, The Chicago Tribune. Mind if we ask you a couple questions about your partner?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I do. I'm just tryin' to have a beer here." Gunderson said, obviously annoyed with the two of you.

"That's okay, I swear it won't take that long. We just want to get the story in your words." Dean said.

"We would really appreciate it." you added.

"A week ago, my partner was sitting in that chair. Now he's dead. You two gonna ambush me here?" Gunderson asked.

"We really are sorry for your loss." you said.

"But, we need to know what happened." Dean added, Sam walking up and shoving him aside, roughly.

"Hey, buddy, why don't you leave the poor guy alone! The man's an officer! Why don'tcha show a little respect!" Sam said to Dean before turning to you, "Same goes for you. You two should get outta here."

"Come on." you said, grabbing Dean's arm.

"You didn't have to do that." Gunderson said.

"Yeah, course I did. Those two were serious jerks. Let me buy you a beer, huh?" Sam said before looking at the bartender, "Two."

"Thanks." Gunderson said.

You and Dean were sitting on the Impala when Sam walked out of the bar.

"Shoved me kinda hard in there, buddy boy." Dean said, you rolling your eyes.

"I told you not to start anything." you said, shaking your head.

"I had to sell it, didn't I? It's method acting." Sam said.

"Huh?" Dean asked.

"Never mind." Sam said.

"What'd you find out from Gunderson?" Dean asked.

"So, Walter Kelly was a good cop, head of his class, even-keeled, he had a bright future ahead of him." Sam said.

"That's all well and good, but what about at home? Maybe the guy had a shitty home life." you said.

"He and his wife had a few fights, like everybody, but it was mostly smooth sailing. They were even talking about having kids." Sam said.

"Alright, so either Kelly had some deep seated crazy waiting to bust out, or something else did it to him." Dean said.

"Right." Sam said.

"What'd Gunderson tell you about the asylum?" Dean asked.

"A lot." Sam replied.

The three of you pulled up outside of the asylum, all three of you getting out of the car.

"You gonna be able to make it, Singer?" Dean asked, looking at the tall chain linked fence.

"What kind of question is that? Of course I can make that, and I'm a little fuckin' insulted that you even asked." you said, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Well...it's just last time you had to scale a fence like this...you had some trouble." Dean said.

"Last time I had on a skirt." you said, looking up the length of the fence.

"Yeah, but if you need my help just let me know." Dean said, looking you up and down.

"Newsflash, I'm not wearing a skirt. I'll make it just fine on my own." you said.

"Hmm...see, I was just thinkin' that those jeans look a little tight. I'd be all for you takin' 'em off if you need to. You know, to make it over the fence." Dean said, smirking at you. "Hell, I can even help you take 'em off. You know, if you need me to. I'm always willing to help."

You laughed under your breath, shaking your head, "Be thankful you're fuckin' hot, De. I mean, do those lame ass attempts actually work on anyone?" you asked, as you started to climb the fence.

"You think I'm hot?" Dean asked, a smile on his face as he followed you up the fence, quickly passing you.

"Show off." you breathed out. "You know, I should have known that was all you would get outta that." you said, working your way down the other side of the fence, Dean already on the ground.

"Hey, you can't take it back now." Dean said, his hands coming to rest on your hips, "Go ahead and jump. I got ya." he said, easing you to the ground before the two of you took off running to catch up with Sam.

"So, apparently the cops chased the kids here...into the south wing." Sam said, pointing up at a sign over one of the doors, the three of you now inside the asylum.

"South wing, huh? Wait a second." Dean said before flipping through John's journal. "1972. Three kids broke into the south wing, only one survived. Way he tells it, one of his friends went nuts, and started lighting up the place." Dean said.

"So, whatever's going on, the south wing is the heart of it." Sam said.

"That's what itt sounds like to me." you said, walking ahead of Sam and Dean.

"But if the kids are spelunking the asylum, why aren't there a ton more deaths?" Dean asked.

"This could have something to do with it." you said, holding up a broken chain. "Looks like the doors are usually chained."

"Could've been chained up for years." Sam said.

"Yeah, to keep people out, or to keep something in." Dean said.

"Let me know if you see any dead people, Haley Joel." Dean said to Sam, as the three of you walked down a hallway, "You too, Miss Cleo."

"How long have you been sittin' on that one?" you asked, a half smile on your face.

"Dude, enough." Sam said.

"I'm serious. You guys gotta be careful, all right? Ghosts are attracted to that whole ESP thing you two got going on." Dean said.

"I told you, it's not ESP! I just have strange vibes sometimes, weird dreams." Sam said.

"Yeah, whatever. Don't ask, don't tell." Dean said before looking to you.

"Listen, I'm not even gonna fuckin' pretend to know what's going on with me. So, if you wanna go with ESP then go ahead. I kinda thought we settled on magic fingers, though." you teased, Dean smiling.

"You get any readings on that thing or not?" Sam asked, looking over to Dean, trying to get the focus back on the case.

"Nope. Of course, it doesn't mean no one's home." Dean said, looking down at his EMF before nudging you, "You, uh, feel anything, or you know, however it, uh, works?" Dean asked, nodding his head towards your hands.

"I'd have to take the gloves off, but I can tell you that there is definitely something going on here. I can tell that with these on." you said.

"Spirits can't appear during certain hours of the day. Maybe that's why." Sam said.

"Yeah, the freaks come out at night." Dean said.

"Yeah." Sam said, you nodding your head.

"Hey, Sam, Y/N? Who do you guys think is the hotter psychic, Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, Y/N, or Sam?" Dean asked, Sam pushing him causing Dean to laugh, "I'm pretty sure me and Y/N have the same pick." he said.

"So, you think Sam is the hottest, too?" you asked, Sam laughing loudly.

"What?! No! You were supposed to say you!" Dean yelled, you and Sam both walking into another room before he could say anything else.

Dean whistled when he walked in, "Man, electro-shock, lobotomies. They did some twisted stuff to these people. Kinda like my man Jack in Cuckoo's Nest." Dean said, grinning at you and Sam, Sam ignoring him.

You chuckled, smiling back at him, "I haven't seen that in years." you said, shaking your head, "Well, as near as I can figure out, It's 'cause I, uh, fight and fuck too much." you said, quoting the movie under your breath as you looked around, Dean smiling at you.

"So, whaddaya guys think? Ghosts possessing people?" Dean asked, forcing himself to focus on the case instead of you.

"Maybe." Sam said.

"Or maybe it's more like Amityville." you suggested, Sam nodding his head.

"Or the Smurl hauntings." Sam added.

"Spirits driving them insane. Kinda like my man Jack in The Shining." Dean said, grinning, you turning to face him.

"I said, I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm just going to bash your brains in! Gonna bash 'em right the fuck in." you said, quoting The Shining, doing your best Nicholson impersonation, Dean laughing loudly.

"See, that's why I love you." Dean blurted out, both you and him freezing the moment the words left his lips, each of you looking at each other in panic. "I...didn't...I mean, as a, uh, friend. Yeah, a friend, that's it." Dean said, playfully punching your arm.

Sam cleared his throat, "Dean." he said, Dean looking over at him, "When are we going to talk about it?" Sam asked.

"Talk about what?" Dean asked, your heart racing, afraid that Sam was going to push the two of you to talk about your feelings.

"Sam, we don't need to talk about anything. He already explained himself, okay? Lots of friends love each other. So, there's no need for a therapy session or intervention, or whatever you have planned. Let's just fuckin' drop it." you said, Sam looking at you strangely.

"I was talking about the fact that Dad's not here." Sam said.

"Oh, of course." you said, slowly nodding your head, Dean speaking up before you could embarrass yourself any further.

"Oh, I see...how 'bout...never." Dean said.

"I'm being serious, guys. He sent us here..." Sam said, trailing off.

"So am I, Sam. Look, he sent us here, he obviously wants us here. We'll pick up the search later." Dean said.

"It doesn't matter what he wants." Sam said.

"Sam." you sighed, "Can we just do the fuckin' job, and fight later?" you asked.

"See. That attitude? Right there? That is why I always got the extra cookie." Dean said.

"Guys, please. We've had this fight a hundred times by now. It's not going to fuckin' solve anything. Let's just do the job. John clearly wanted us to, and even if he didn't, it's still a job. If we leave now more people are gonna die just because we couldn't suck it up and move past shit." you said.

"Dad could be in trouble. We should be looking for him. We deserve some answers, Dean. I mean, this is our family we're talking about." Sam said.

"I understand that, Sam, but he's given us an order." Dean said.

"So, what, we gotta always follow Dad's orders?" Sam asked.

"Of course, we do." Dean said, both of them more than frustrated.

"Alright! You two are gonna knock this shit off right fucking now. We have a job to do. We can pick this bullshit up later. You two can fight all you want then, but right now both of you are gonna lock it the fuck up." you said, looking between them, Dean turning away, ending the conversation.

The three of you were poking around, looking for any information you could find, all three of you remaining silent, the tension palpable.

Dean picked up a sign, "Sanford Ellicott...you guys know what we gotta do. We gotta find out more about the south wing. See if something happened here." Dean said before walking away, leaving the sign with Sam.

"Come on, Sam." you said, turning to follow after Dean. "Let's go find out everything we can about this asshole."

"How do you know he was an asshole?" Sam asked, the corner of his mouth turning up.

"Well, he was a doctor in this fuckin' place. That can't be anything good, so I'm pretty sure that makes him an asshole." you said, Sam shaking his head at you, a smile on his face, "But, what do I know? I think everyone's an asshole." you said, Sam chuckling as he stepped to your side.

You and Dean were waiting outside of Dr. James Ellicott's office, the three of you deciding that Sam was the best one to go inside and talk to him.

"Do you think Sam's right?" Dean asked, leaning against the glass windows by the door.

"About what?" you asked, looking up at him from your spot on the ground, your knees drawn up to your chest, your arms wrapped around them.

"About Dad. Do you think he's...he's dead?" Dean asked.

"I don't." you said, Dean sliding down to sit next to you.

"Do you really think that, or are you just tryin' to make me feel better?" he asked.

"I wouldn't like to you about that. I'm not gonna sugar coat things just to make you feel better. I mean, I wouldn't want you to do that to me, so." you said, Dean nodding his head.

"So, you think he's alive?" Dean asked, again.

"I do. I don't think we're gonna find him though." you said, Dean's face falling, "At least not any time soon."

"Why not?" he asked.

"If John doesn't want to be found, we won't find him, and I honestly think...that he doesn't want us to find him." you said.

"Then what's with the text messages? The coordinates?" Dean asked.

"I think you were right when you said he wanted us to take over. I think that's why he's sending us jobs." you said, resting your head on his shoulder.

"We...I...need to find him." Dean said. "I have to."

"I know you do, and trust me, I'll be there every step of the way to help you, but I think we'll find him when he's ready for us to. John's smart, Dean. He knows what he's doing, and he can take care of himself. He'll be okay, De." you said.

"I hope you're right." he said.

"I always am." you said, trying to lighten the mood, stretching your legs out in front of you, "So, you have nothing to worry about, okay?"

You felt Dean kiss the top of your head, "Thanks for, uh, just thanks." Dean said before standing back up, scared that he crossed a line. "What in the world could they be talkin' about in there? He's been in there forever." Dean added, changing the subject.

"Maybe he's talkin' about us." you teased, getting to your feet.

"Us?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, what did he call us the other day? Emotionally constipated? Said therapy would do both of us some good. Maybe he's gettin' some tips." you said, Dean laughing.

"Yeah, I can see him doing somethin' like that." Dean said, shaking his head, the two of you slipping into silence, both of you fearing what could slip out if the conversation continued.

Dean was leaning against the windows again, looking bored when Sam walked out.

"Dude! You were in there forever. What the hell were you talking about?" Dean asked, catching up to him.

"Just the hospital, you know." Sam said.

"Well, with how long you were in there, you should know the entire fuckin' history of the place." you said, Sam giving you a completely done look.

"And...?" Dean asked when Sam didn't say anything.

"And the south wing? It's where they housed the really hard cases. The psychotics, the criminally insane." Sam said.

"Sounds cozy." Dean said.

"I was thinkin' the same thing." you added.

"Yeah, and one night in '64, they rioted. Attacked staff, attacked each other." Sam said.

"So, the patients took over the asylum?" Dean asked.

"Apparently." Sam said.

"Any deaths?" Dean asked.

"De, a bunch of psychotic people rioted...of course people fuckin' died." you sassed, Dean rolling his eyes at you before playfully shoving you.

"Some patients, some staff. I guess it was pretty gory. Some of the bodies were never even recovered, including our Chief of Staff, Ellicott." Sam said.

"Whaddaya mean, never recovered?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I mean, what the fuck could they have done with them?" you asked.

"Cops scoured every inch of the place, but I guess the patients must've...stuffed the bodies somewhere." Sam said.

"That's grim." Dean said.

"Yeah, so, they transferred all the remaining patients and closed the hospital down." Sam said.

"So, to sum it up, we've got a bunch of violent deaths and a bunch of unrecovered bodies." Dean said.

"Not to mention, a fuck load of homicidal spirits." you added.

"Good times, huh, Singer? Let's check out the hospital tonight." Dean said, you and Sam nodding in agreement.

The three of you were back at the asylum, Sam pushing open the door, you and Dean beside him.

"Getting readings?" Sam asked, holding a video camera and a flashlight.

"Yeah, big time." Dean said, looking down at his EMF.

"This place is orbing like crazy." Sam said.

"Probably multiple spirits out and about." Dean said, glancing over at you, stopping when he noticed you taking off your gloves, "What are you doin?" he asked.

"What good are magic fingers if I don't use them?" you asked, shrugging your shoulders.

Dean looked at you, concern etched on his face, "I don't know, Singer. You remember what happened last time. you should put 'em back on." Dean said.

"I'll be fine." you said, Dean shaking his head at you, knowing that he couldn't change your mind.

"If these unrecovered bodies are causing the haunting." Sam said, trailing off.

"We gotta find 'em and burn 'em. Just be careful, though. The only thing that makes me more nervous than a pissed off spirit...is the pissed of spirit of a psycho killer." Dean said.

Sam had separated from you and Dean, walking into another room alone. After a minutes on his own Sam saw an old woman through the lens of the camera he was holding, her hair white, one eye bloody and hanging out as she moved towards him.

"Dean. Y/N! Dean!" Sam yelled, you and Dean running into the rom, Dean rummaging through his bag. "Shotgun!" Sam yelled.

"Sam, get down!!" you yelled, raising your gun, Sam throwing himself to the ground before you pulled the trigger, the old woman disintegrating once she was hit.

"That was weird." Sam said, the three of you still on edge.

"Yeah. You're tellin' me." Dean said, walking out of the room, you and Sam following after him.

"No, Dean, I mean, it was weird that she didn't attack me." Sam said.

"Maybe she just hadn't had time yet." you said, Dean nodding.

"Yeah, looked pretty aggro from where I was standing." Dean said.

"She didn't hurt me. She didn't even try! So, if she didn't wanna hurt me then what did she want?" Sam asked, a noise coming from one of the rooms the three of you were passing, stopping all of you in your tracks.

Dean immediately raised his shotgun, Sam flicking on the flashlight as the three of you walked into the room the noise came from.

You looked around the room, spotting the top of a blonde head sticking up from behind an overturned bed, grabbing the boys to point it out to them.

The three of you braced yourselves, Sam reaching out to tip the bed over, a terrified girl spinning around to face the three of you.

"Fuck. What the hell are you doin' in here?" you asked, definitely not expecting to see another living person.

"It's alright, we're not going to hurt you. It's okay. What's your name?" Dean asked.

"Katherine. Kat." she answered.

"Okay, I'm Dean, this is Sam, and that's Y/N." Dean said, introducing the three of you.

"Okay, great...we all know each other now. So, how about you tell us what the fuck you're doing here?" you asked.

"Don't mind her." Sam said, stepping forward. "She means well...really. What are you doing here, though?" Sam asked.

"Um, my boyfriend, Gavin." she said.

"Of course." you said, shaking your head. "Of course, there's two of you."

"Is he here?" Dean asked.

"Somewhere. He thought it would be fun, try and see some ghosts. I thought it was all just...pretend. I've seen things. I heard Gavin scream and..." Kat trailed off, completely terrified.

"Alright, Kat? Come on. Sam's gonna get you out of here and then we're gonna find your boyfriend." Dean said, gesturing between you and him.

"No! No, I'm not going to leave without Gavin. I'm coming with you." she said.

"Yeah, that's a really bad fuckin' idea. Almost as bad as the one to come in here in the first place." you said, Kat shrinking back .

"She's right. It's no joke around here, okay. It's dangerous." Dean said.

"That's why I gotta find him." Kat said.

"Alright, I guess we're gonna split up then. Let's go." Dean said, stopping you when you tried to follow after Sam, "Uh-uh, you're with me. I can't make you wear the gloves, but I can keep you with me, so I can make sure nothing happens." Dean said.

"Jesus Christ, Dean." you said, walking away from him. "You know, you gotta trust me when I tell you that I'm fine. You've already got one damsel in distress to look after. You don't need another one." you said, Dean biting his tongue to keep from arguing with you.

You, Dean, and Kat were wandering around the halls, looking for her boyfriend, Gavin.

"I got a question for ya. You've seen a lot of horror movies, yeah?" Dean asked her.

"I guess so." Kat said, Dean turning to face her.

"Do me a favor. Next time you see one? Pay attention. When someone says a place is haunted...don't go in." Dean said.

"He's right, you know. All this shit's real, and you're gonna mess around and get yourself killed." you said, Kat nodding her head.

You, Dean and Kat were walking down yet another hallway, Dean leading the way, his flashlight fading.

"You son of a bitch." Dean said, shaking the flashlight.

"You want mine?" you asked, grabbing your flashlight, trying to turn in on, "Fuck, mines out, too."

"It's alright. I got a lighter." Dean said, reaching into his pocket.

"Ow. You're hurting my arm." Kat said causing you to turn and face her.

"What are you talking about?" you asked. "I'm not touching you." you said, looking down to see a disembodied hand clutching onto Kat's arm. "Oh fuck." you said, quickly grabbing onto her, both of you ripped backwards into a room, the metal door slamming behind you.

Dean rushed over to the door, and struggled to pull it open, Kat banging on it from the inside, the door not budging.

"Lemme out! Please!" Kat screamed, Dean continuing to struggle with the door.

"Kat! Hang on!" he yelled, pausing a moment. "Hey, Singer, try to calm her down." he said, smashing at the door with a metal pipe.

"Singer, what's going on in there?" Dean asked, worried that he hadn't heard you yet. "Y/N!!" he yelled again, getting no response from you.

Sam and Gavin were running down the hall towards Dean, "What's going on?" Sam asked.

"They're inside with one of them, and Y/N ain't answering." Dean said, Kat's scream causing him to whip back towards the door.

"Kat?! Kat, what's going on in there?" Dean asked, completely panicked that he still hadn't heard you.

"Help me!!" Kat screamed.

"Kat!" Gavin yelled.

"Get me outta here!" Kat yelled, sliding down against the door.

"Kat, I need you to listen to me, I need you to tell me what Y/N's doing. Is she okay?" Dean asked.

"I...I don't know. It...I think it did something to her. She's...she's just sitting there." Kat said, Dean trying even harder to open the door.

"Y/N! Y/N! Come on, Singer! Talk to me!!" Dean yelled.

"Kat, it's not going to hurt you." Sam said, stepping up to the door.

"Bullshit! It hurt her!" Kat yelled, Dean's heart pounding in his chest, needing more than anything to get to you.

"Listen to me. You've got to face it. You've got to calm down." Sam calmly said.

"She's gotta what?!" Dean asked, turning to Sam. "It's already done something to Y/N, and now you want her to face it?"

"I have to what?!" Kat yelled.

"These spirits, they're not trying to hurt us. They're trying to communicate. You gotta face it. You gotta listen to it." Sam explained.

"Tell that to the comatose girl in here. You face it!!" Kat yelled.

"No! It's the only way to get out of there." Sam said.

"NO!" Kat yelled.

"Do you really think the door will open if she does it?" Dean asked Sam, Sam nodding.

"Listen to me, Kat." Dean said "I need you to turn around and look at the son of a bitch, okay? Find out what he wants. That's the only way this door is openin'. So, just do it. Dean said, aching to get inside.

"Kat?" Gavin asked, when he didn't hear anything.

"Man, I hope you're right about this. I gotta get in that fuckin' room." Dean said before waiting in tense silence, the lock clicking before the door slowly opened.

"Oh, Kat." Gavin said, Kat standing in the doorway.

Dean pushed by her, rushing into the room and kneeling down by your side. You were just sitting there, your back against the wall, a blank expression on your face.

"Y/N. Y/N." Dean said, grabbing your shoulders. "Come on, Singer." he said, his hands coming up to your face, one on each cheek.

Your eyes were open, but you weren't looking at him. You were staring straight through him, somewhere far, far away from there.

Sam walked into the room to see Dean taking you into his arms, his back against the wall as he clutched you to his chest.

Sam crouched down next to Dean, thinking to himself that he couldn't remember a time when he had see Dean look so scared.

"What do I do, Sammy?" Dean asked, his voice breaking. "I...I don't know what to do."

"It's okay. We're gonna figure this out. She's going to be fine." Sam said before turning back towards the door, "Kat, what did you see? What did it do to her?" Sam asked.

"I...I don't know." she stammered out, still terrified.

"Well, think God damn it!!!" Dean roared, Kat jumping back.

"Dean!" Sam barked. "That's not gonna help." he said before turning back to Kat. "Just try to think, okay. Anything you can remember could help." Sam said.

"He...he...just touched her. She was trying to get something out of her pocket, I think, but it was too late. He touched her, and she...she just stopped. I...I don't know she was just standing there looking at him, and then she just slid down the wall." Kat said, Dean looking down to see your gloves halfway out of your pocket.

"Okay, so he probably didn't possess her. He just touched her." Sam said, looking down at you, waving his hand in front of your face. "Kat, did you see where he touched her?" Sam asked.

"He just grabbed her hand, I think." Kat replied.

"Okay, maybe he was trying to show her something." Sam said, more to himself than to Dean.

"No, somethin's wrong. She...she shouldn't still be like this. She said it stops when she isn't touching something, and she's not fuckin' touching anything." Dean said, panic in his voice.

"Dean, I need you to calm down." Sam said, his own worry and fear for you pushed to the back burner. "Ok, she did something like this when we were in Kansas, remember? She, uh, touched something in the closet and then kind of just zoned out." Sam said, Dean nodding his head. "So, what did you do then? You got her to snap out of it."

"I didn't do anything. I just talked to her, said her name a couple times." Dean said.

"Try it again." Sam said.

"I tried that, Sam! It didn't fuckin' work!" Dean yelled.

Sam took your hand in his, "Hey, Y/N, we need you to wake up." he said, your eyes still wide open, not blinking. "Come on, Y/N. You can do it, just wake up."

Dean took hold of your other hand the best he could while still trying to hold you, "Hey, come on, Singer. You can't do this. We need you. You know that. We'd both be lost without you. I mean, who'd save our asses? So, just snap out of it." Dean said, both him and Sam slipping into silence when you didn't respond.

"He's right Y/N. We need you. I...I need you. I know we aren't as close as we used to be, and that's my fault, but I want to get back there. So, just make your way back here. If anyone can do it, it's you. We're waiting for you." Sam thought to himself, still holding onto your hand.

"Singer, I know you're in there somewhere, and I got to believe that you can hear me. Come on, Y/N, just do something...give me some sort of sign here." Dean thought, looking down at you to see you in the same state. "Come on, Baby, don't do this to me. You...you can't do this to me. You said you weren't going anywhere. You promised. So , I need you to snap the fuck out of it, and get your ass back here. I need...I need you. Please, just please, wake up." Dean thought, your eyes starting to flutter.

"Dean! Look!" Sam yelled, both of them looking down at you. "Y/N?" Sam asked, Dean holding his breath.

"Stop thinking." you finally said. "I...can't hear you when you both think at the same fuckin' time." you said, Sam smiling a relieved smile as Dean pulled you into a hug, crushing you against his chest, as he released the breath he had been holding.

"You scared the shit outta us, Singer." Dean said, refusing to let you go.

"Is...is somethin' wrong with the car?" you asked, your eyes closed as you tried to center yourself.

"No, no. The car's fine." Dean said, giving Sam a confused look.

"Did you see something about the car?" Sam asked, just as confused as Dean.

"No, but I heard Dean say something about Baby not doing something, so I just thought..." you said, trailing off, Dean not even bothering to look embarrassed.

"Y/N, what happened?" Sam asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Give her a minute, Sam." Dean snapped, still holding onto you.

You opened your eyes, "I was there...at the riot. I saw it. I...I felt it. 137. We got to go to room 137." you said, your thoughts still a little jumbled.

"137?" Kat asked from the doorway. "That's what it whispered in my ear before the door opened. 137." she said.

"That's what he wanted me to see, but I...I don't know. It was...I think he was taking me there, but then he let go of my hand and I couldn't see anything anymore. I could...I could just feel. I could feel all of their emotions, but it was just black. It's like I was trapped inside my own fuckin' head, and I couldn't find my way out. I could only focus on what they were feeling and I couldn't get back." you said, Dean holding onto you tighter.

"It's okay. You're back now. I've got ya. I'll always get you back." Dean said, rocking you side to side.

"I know you will. I know." you said, pulling back from him, "We have to go to room 137. I have to see this through." you said, pulling your gloves from your pocket and slipping them on.

"Nothing I say is gonna change your mind, is it?" Dean asked, already knowing the answer.

"No. I...I have to do this, Dean. I can't just go hide in a corner, scared, somewhere. I just...I need to do this." you said.

"Fine." Dean said, even though it was the last thing he wanted to say. "Room 137, it is. But, you're putting those gloves on, and you're not taking them off no matter what. And, you're gonna stay right by my side like we're fuckin' glued together. Are we clear? I need to know that you're gonna actually listen to me for once." Dean said.

"Ok. We're clear. The gloves stay on, and I stay with you." you said before wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "Take a breath, De. I'm fine. I'm just fine." you whispered in his ear, feeling him take a deep breath seconds later.

You, Sam, and Dean were crouched against the wall where Gavin and Kat couldn't over hear.

"Alright. So, if these spirits aren't trying to hurt anyone..."Sam trailed off.

"Then, what are they trying to do?" Dean asked.

"There's something that they want us to know, that they want us to see." you said.

"Well, I guess, we'll find out." Dean said before looking over to you. "Gloves?"

"Gloves." you said, holding your hands up so he could see.

"Alright." Sam said, nodding his head.

The three of you walked back over to Kat and Gavin, "So, now, are you guys ready to leave this place?" Dean asked.

"That's an understatement." Kat said.

"Okay." Dean said, turning to Sam. "You get them outta here. We're going to go find room 137." Dean said, Sam nodding his head, knowing that Dean needed to keep you with him.

Sam was leading Kat and Gavin down a hallway, "So, how do you guys know about all this ghost stuff?" she asked.

"It's kinda our job." Sam replied.

"Why would anyone want a job like that?" she asked.

Sam huffed a laugh, "I had a crappy guidance counselor." he said.

"And Y/N and Dean? Are they..." Kat trailed off.

Sam sighed, "It's complicated." he said. "They don't know what they are, but I like to call it denial."

"And are they your bosses?" Kat asked.

"No." Sam said, looking down at her, a little bothered by the question.

You and Dean were walking down a hallway, both of you shining your flashlights on the doors, looking for room 137, Dean glancing over at you every few seconds.

"De, I'm fine. you don't have to keep looking." you said, your flashlight landing on room 137. "There we go."

Dean pushed against the door, using his weight to push aside the broken furniture blocking it, finally getting it open.

The two of you walked inside noticing that the room was a complete mess, filing cabinets pushed over, papers everywhere, the walls stained.

"Well, guess we should start lookin'." you said, flipping through some folders lying in a cabinet.

The two of you were still searching and you were starting to get discouraged that neither of you had found anything yet. You looked over in Dean's direction to seem him running his hands along the wall.

Dean happened upon a loose panel and pried it off, finding a satchel full of papers behind it, "This is why I get paid the big bucks." he said, waving the satchel at you.

"I'll stroke your ego later. Let's open it." you said, pulling up a chair.

"I got somethin' else you could stroke." Dean said, wiggling his eyebrows at you, trying to make you laugh.

You threw your head back, laughing loudly before looking up at him, "Pretty sure that would chafe like a bitch." you said, wiggling your gloved fingers at him, Dean laughing as he pulled up a chair next to you.

You opened the satchel, a journal with many notes and hand drawn pictures of medical instruments inside. "Well, that's just fuckin' creepy." you said before you started to read over the notes, "It's like a fuckin' how to manual."

"Yeah, well, all work and no play makes Dr. Ellicott a very dull boy." Dean said, a noise making both of you look up quickly.

Sam was moving back down a hallway towards Gavin and Kat, "Alright, I've looked everywhere. There's no other way out." he said.

"So, what the hell are we gonna do?" Gavin asked, panicked.

"Well, for starters. We're not gonna panic." Sam said.

"Why the hell not?" Gavin asked, Sam's phone ringing before he could reply.

"Hey." Sam said.

"Sam, it's me. I see it. It's coming for us." Dean said, the connection bad.

"Where are you?" Sam asked.

"We're in the basement. Hurry up!" Dean said, Sam hanging up the phone before looking over at Kat and Gavin.

Sam quickly instructed Kat on how to use the shotgun, telling her to be ready to shoot before making his way to the basement.

"Dean! Y/N!" Sam called out, searching through hallways and rooms, his flashlight flickering and fading, a door behind him swinging open.

Sam raised his gun and approached carefully, "Dean? Y/N?" he asked.

A shadow moved behind a ragged curtain, catching his attention. Sam pulled the curtain back expecting to see someone, but finding nothing.

He turned back around, an old, beaten up man with ragged hair and clothes was standing before him. The man grabbed Sam's face, his hand starting to glow.

"Don't be afraid. I'm going to make you all better." the man said.

You and Dean were coming around the corner, Dean seeing Kat just as she pulled the trigger. Dean grabbed you and threw the both of you back around the corner just in time.

"What the fuck?!" you yelled.

"Damn it. Damn it, don't shoot. It's us." Dean said, both of you still against the wall.

"Sorry. Sorry." Kat said.

"Son of a..." Dean said, coming around the corner, looking at the marks on the wall.

"What the hell are you two still doing here?" you asked, looking at Kat and Gavin.

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked when he noticed he wasn't there.

"He went to the basement. You called him." Gavin said.

"I didn't call anybody." Dean said.

"Oh, fuck." you breathed out, knowing that this couldn't be good.

"His cell phone rang. He said it was you." Kat said.

"Basement, huh?" Dean asked, looking over to you.

"Basement." you said.

"Alright." Dean said, grabbing some extra weapons. "Watch yourselves...and watch out for us." he said before the two of you headed to the basement.

"Sammy? Sam, you down here? Sam? Sam!" Dean called out.

"Come on, Sam!!" you yelled, Dean turning to see Sam standing right in front of him.

Dean jumped back, automatically raising his gun, "Man, answer us when we're calling you! You alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Sam answered.

"You sure?" you asked, looking him over, something seeming off about him.

"Yeah, I'm sure." Sam said.

"You know it wasn't me who called your cell, right?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I know. I think something lured me down here." Sam said.

"Well, you're right about that." you said.

"I think we know who, Dr. Ellicott." Dean said.

"That's what the spirits have been trying to tell us. I think that's what that one wanted me to see." you said.

"You haven't seen him, have you?" Dean asked Sam.

"No. How do you guys know it was him?" Sam asked.

"Dean found his log book." you said.

"Apparently he was experimenting on his patients, awful stuff, makes lobotomies look like a couple of aspirin." Dean said.

"Yeah, real fucked up shit." you said, shaking your head.

"But it was the patients who rioted." Sam said.

"Well, can you blame them, Sam?" you asked.

"Yeah, they were rioting against Dr. Ellicott. Dr. Feelgood was working on some sort of, like, extreme rage therapy. He thought that if he could get his patients to vent their anger then they would be cured of it." Dean said.

"Instead, it fuckin' backfired and only made them worse and worse and angrier and angrier. So, we're thinking, what if his spirit is doing the same thing? You know, being a dick even in the after life." you said.

"Think about it, the cop, the kids in the seventies. He was making them so angry that they became homicidal. Come on, we gotta find his bones and torch 'em." Dean said.

"How? The police never found his body." Sam said.

"The log book said he had some sort of hidden procedure room down here somewhere, where he'd work on his patients." Dean said.

"I know if I was a patient I'd drag his ass down here, do a little work on him myself, give him a taste of his own fuckin' medicine." you said.

"I don't know. It sounds kinda..." Sam trailed off.

"Crazy?" Dean filled in.

"Yeah." Sam said.

"Yeah. Exactly." Dean said.

Dean opened another door, and looked inside before gesturing with his head for you and Sam to follow.

"I told you guys. I didn't find a hidden room." Sam said, you and Dean checking the walls.

"Well, that's why they call it hidden." Dean said.

"You hear that?" you asked, what sounded like wind catching your attention, Dean nodding his head.

"What?" Sam nervously asked, as you and Dean looked around.

"There's a door here." Dean said, crouching down and holding his hand out, you quickly joining his side.

"Dean. Y/N." Sam said, pointing his gun at the two of you, a trickle of blood running from his nose. "Step back from the door."

"What the fuck are you doin', Sam?" you asked, your eyes on the gun as you stood up.

"Sam, put the gun down." Dean said, rising to his feet.

"Is that an order?" Sam asked.

"Nah, it's more of a friendly request." Dean said.

"Listen to him, Sam, put the fuckin' gun down." you said.

"'Cause I'm getting pretty tired of taking your orders." Sam said to Dean before turning to you, "Both of your orders."

"I knew it. Ellicott did something to you." Dean said.

"For once in your life just shut your mouth." Sam said, "That's all both of you do....talk."

"What are you gonna do, Sam? Guns filled with rock salt. It's not gonna kill us." Dean said.

Sam pulled the trigger, shooting Dean in the chest, the shot blasting him backwards through the hidden door.

"God damn it, Sam!" you yelled, looking behind you, trying to see Dean, Sam now aiming the gun at you.

"It may not kill you, but it will hurt like hell." he said, you turning just in time to see him pull the trigger.

You and Dean were both lying on the floor, both gasping for air after coming to.

"I...can't wait...to roast that motherfucker." you panted out, Dean looking over at you, making sure you were okay.

"Sam!" he said, Sam standing over the two of you. "We gotta burn Ellicott's bones and all this will be over, and you'll be back to normal." Dean said.

"I am normal. I'm just telling the truth for the first time. I mean, why are we even here? Cause you're following Dad's orders, and she's too scared to disappoint you and say anything. That's why she never goes against you. You always do what Dad says without question, and then she does what you say, like a trained dog. Are you that desperate for Dad's approval, Dean? Are you that desperate for Dean's, Y/N?" Sam asked.

"Fuck you." you spat out, looking up at him.

Sam chuckled, "Oh, here we go, the whole I'm so tough act. The I'm not scared of anything bullshit you always pull. Yeah, we can see right through that, Y/N. You aren't fooling anyone, just yourself. We both know that you're scared, scared that Dean's gonna realize what a freak you really are and toss you aside." Sam said, looking down at you.

"Like I said, fuck you." you seethed.

"This isn't you talking, Sam." Dean said.

"That's the difference between you guys and me. I have a mind of my own. I'm not pathetic like you two." Sam said.

"So, what are you gonna do, huh? Are you gonna kill us?" Dean asked.

"You know what, I am sick of doing what you guys tell me to do. We're no closer to finding Dad today than we were six months ago." Sam said.

"Well, then here. Let me make it easy for you." Dean said, holding out his gun to Sam. "Come on. Take it." Dean said.

"Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt." you said, going along with Dean, knowing that he had something up his sleeve.

"Take it!!" Dean yelled, Sam taking the gun and pointing it at Dean. "You hate us that much? You think you could kill your own brother? Your best friend? Then go ahead, pull the trigger. Do it!!" Dean yelled.

Sam pulled the trigger, but the chamber was empty. He tried again, and then once more, the result the same every time, giving Dean enough time to hit Sam, knocking him to the ground.

Both you and Dean got to your feet, Dean moving to stand over Sam, "Man, I'm not going to give you a loaded pistol." Dean said, Sam glaring up at him.

Dean delivered a vicious right cross to knock Sam out, almost falling over as he did so. "Sorry, Sammy." he said, patting Sam.

"Alright, let's go find those fuckin' bones and get this shit over with." you said, the two of you starting to look around the room.

"You know, you didn't seemed too freaked back there when I handed Sam my gun. You kinda just went with it." Dean said.

You shrugged your shoulders, "What can I say? I trust you." you said, noticing a bit of something sticking out of a closed cupboard, "I figured you had a plan." you added, nudging Dean to get his attention.

Dean moved closer to the cupboard and opened the door to find a mummified corpse, both of you flinching back and gagging.

"Jesus fucking Christ." you said.

"Oh, that's just gross." Dean said before salting the body. "Soak it up."

Dean dropped the salt container, and you passed him a small tin of kerosene. He squirted the body, both of you completely oblivious to the presence behind you until a gurney came flying across the room, knocking both of you to the ground.

Dr. Ellicott appeared in front of both of you, and reached down to grab Dean's face, his hand lighting up, "Don't be afraid. I'm going to help you. I'm going to make you feel all better." Ellicott said.

You crawled over to Dean's bag, quickly finding his lighter. You flicked it open and struck it before tossing it onto the mummified body.

Dr. Ellicott let go of Dean as his remains started to burn, Dean crawling out of the way, both of you watching as Ellicott's ghost turned black before falling to the ground and crumbling on impact.

"Take that...you crazy fuck." you said, Dean collapsing on the floor next to you.

"Thanks, Singer." he said.

"Anytime, De." you said, patting his arm, Sam starting to wake up.

You and Dean looked over at him as he flexed his jaw painfully.

"You're not going to try to kill us, are ya?" Dean asked.

Sam raised his hand to push at his jaw, "No." he said.

"Good...because that would be fuckin' awkward." you said.

The three of you were standing outside the asylum with Kat and Gavin, the sun shining brightly overhead.

"Thanks, guys." Kat said.

"Yeah, thanks." Gavin quickly added.

"No more haunted asylums, okay?" Dean said.

"Yeah, the next time you're looking for a date idea go with pizza, beer, and Zeppelin IV." you said, missing the way Dean's mouth turned up at the corner.

The three of you stood back and watched Kat and Gavin walk away, giving them one final wave goodbye before turning to the Impala.

"Hey, guys?" Sam said, you and Dean turning to look at him.

"I'm sorry. I said some awful things back there." Sam said, looking at the two of you apologetically.

"You remember all that?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. It's like I couldn't control it, but I didn't mean any of it." Sam said.

"You didn't, huh?" you asked, eyeing Sam, still feeling a little salty.

"No, of course not! Do we need to talk about this?" Sam asked.

"No, I'm not really in the sharing and caring kinda mood. I just wanna get some sleep." Dean said.

"Yeah, me too." you said, climbing into the car.

The three of you checked into a motel, the boys letting you grab the first shower this time.

You walked out about fifteen minutes later, "Next." you said, pulling on your gloves as you sat down on the end of the bed.

"Go ahead, Sam." Dean said, Sam getting up to walk to the bathroom.

Dean turned to you once Sam closed the bathroom door, "How bad did he get ya?" he asked.

"I'm fine. I've had worse." you said, Dean coming to sit next to you.

"Let me see." he said.

"I told you...I'm fine." you said, not wanting to worry him.

"Please?" he asked, needing to see for himself that you were okay.

You flopped back on the bed, sighing dramatically as you lifted your shirt, pulling it up just enough for him to see where you got hit, the shot hitting you right at the apex of your ribcage.

"See, just fine." you said, Dean ghosting his fingers over the already forming bruise.

Dean let out a slow breath, leaning down until his forehead rested on your stomach, his hands on either side of your waist, "Hey, I'm fine, okay? Just fine." you said, again, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders.

"I...you just really scared me." he said, turning his head to the side, still laying it on your stomach.

"I'm sorry." you said, your fingers moving to card through the hair on the back of his head, Dean raising his head to look up at you.

"I thought...I thought..." Dean said, trailing off, unable to say the words, his hands gripping your harder.

"Hey, I told you before that I wasn't going anywhere and I meant it." you said, the bathroom door opening, Dean quickly sitting up.

"I, uh, saved you some hot water." Sam said to Dean, trying not to look at you or his brother as you pulled your shirt down.

Dean looked over to you, as if he was asking your permission, "Go." you mouthed, Dean standing up and walking to the bathroom.

You moved up in the bed once the bathroom door closed, pulling back the covers before laying down on your side of the bed.

"Y/N, I really didn't mean that stuff." Sam quietly said.

"I know. Don't worry about it, Sammy. Everything's fine. Let's just get some sleep." you said before turning away from him.

You felt Dean's side of the bed dip a few minutes later, the lights in the room already out. He crawled into bed beside you and pulled you back into him, his arm coming to wrap around your waist, almost as if he was scared to not be touching you.

You could feel how tense he was, "Hey." you said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze, "Relax, okay? Everything's fine. Get some sleep, De. I'll still be here in the morning." you said, Dean still holding you tightly to him, but you could feel his body start to relax.

The three of you were sleeping, you and Dean tangled up in each other as a phone started to ring.

"Dean." Sam said, Dean not moving.

Sam frowned and grabbed Dean's phone from the night stand before checking the number and flipping it open.

"Hello." Sam said, listening a moment before sitting up straight in bed, "Dad?"

A/N: I just want to say a big thank you to everyone that takes the time to read this. I really appreciate it. I love hearing what you guys have to say. I'm a socially awkward train wreck, so I may not always reply, but I want you all to know that I truly appreciate each and every one of you. <3 <3

Tags: @miraclesoflove @22sarah08 @deans-baby-momma @spnae @karikatz12481 @spngirl05 @winchester-fantasies @freddiemermaytaydeac @rainbowkisses31 @in-deans-arms @scentedhoundshepherdmoney @teamfreewillisbae @it-could-go-off @moonlight-on-her-skin

#supernatural #series rewrite #dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fic #dean x you #dean winchester #reader insert #dean #sam winchester #spn fic #spn

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aweirdkindofyellow · 4 years

Text

The Royal Invitation, Pt. 5

Aerowyn Matilde George Rothchester might seem like a very long name, but it definitely is not for a royal in the Kingdom of Dalewin.

After her grandfather, the beloved king, passed away, Aerowyn (also known as Winny) is called back from her art school in New York. She’s thrown back into her royal duties, expected to know what to do.

But with the Royal advisor on tour with the new king, Winny is left to figure things out with his stepson. The only problem, he has no idea what he’s doing, after all he’s only the lead singer in a band.

Co-written story with @scream-tears.

Chapter 5

Winny’s POV:

I breathed in shakily as I walked past the many pews. All of them were empty right now, but it wasn’t going to stay that way for long. It felt like what had been many days since my grandfather passed away, but the day of his funeral had finally arrived. For the past few days, people from the public had access to the church and casket to pay their respects. There were constantly guards in every corner to keep an eye on people, but luckily nobody tried anything. It was all closed to the public again and it was time for the actual funeral. All the people who had traveled from close and far, many of who were staying with us, were here.

It was going to be one full church.

Because I was direct family, I sat all the way in the front, along with the rest of my family. The last time I had been in this church, I sat one pew further back. Back then, we had all gathered for my youngest aunt’s wedding. That was one happy occasion. It was so strange to think how different things were then. Everything was decorated in such an uplifting way, beautiful pink flowers all around, the sun shining brightly. Now, I was just glad that my grandpa still had been able to see his youngest daughter get married and even walk her down the aisle. That was just when his health problems started, before they were anything serious.

And now here we were. White flowers to symbolise death. People in all black. Dark sombre faces.

I, myself, was wearing yet another black dress, plain and down to my knees. This time a hat was thrown into the mix, but that didn’t pep up the situation in any way. There was no other way to feel right now.

I was sad, yet also over being sad already. It was like my body had used up all the sad that I had left in me. It was more like a numbness. All I could do was listen and stare ahead. It wasn’t denial, I knew what had happened, and I knew it was reality. It wasn’t like I was trying to live in my own world. Maybe it was just all the training I had. Show just the right amount of emotion. Too little, and you seem heartless, too much and you seem out of control, But still, nothing can actually prepare you for anything like this.

Sitting there, listening to the pastor do his talk, and even listen to my dad give a speech, I felt like I had only been there for a couple of minutes. In reality, it was much longer than just those few minutes. But this was exactly what I was talking about when I mentioned the numbness. I just tuned everything out. Maybe it was just a new level of sadness, because when I woke up from my trance as everybody started moving around me, I felt a single tear on my cheek, which I wiped away quickly.

I looked around in slight confusion to find that the pallbearers (who were some of our most loyal guards), were busy picking up the casket. The ceremony was about the move outside as we completed the burial. We all had to follow outside where my grandfather was going to be buried in our special plot. The graveyard here already wasn’t open for public burials, but our family still had a special area separate from the other notable people, such as important scientists. We didn’t do the whole thing of being buried inside the church.

As the front row, we had to follow behind the pallbearers. I just did exactly as the rest of my family, who all copied my dad. We stood up and slowly shuffled down the pew until we reached the aisle and also continued down that. Pew after pew joined behind us as we made our way to the back. Everybody was silent, especially us. We weren’t even uttering a peep. The only sound was that of feet shuffling and the occasional whisper of people further at the back.

The strangely cold air for late spring hit my face and bare legs as we stepped outside. I focused on making sure I stayed in rhythm as we started down the marble steps. Messing up now would mean more than just a quick trip. It would mean having no space to balance and face planting right into the people in front of me before tumbling to the ground. I did not need that, especially not on a day like this.

My heels dug into the grass after we left the gravel path to go to the grave. It had rained this morning, leaving the dirt the slightest bit muddy. Luckily, the weather had turned and my grandpa didn’t have to be buried in such horrible weather. He got to take in the sunshine one last time before he was left in the dark.

I could see the many cameras pointed at us from beyond the gate. Although I knew they were going to be there, it still made a shiver run down my spine. Even on a day like this, I still had to be aware of my every move. One wrong decision, and people would be talking. At least we weren’t as famous as the British royals, or else the whole world would feel entitled to their opinion.

We all moved to stand around the grave that had been dug. I wasn’t all the way at the front this time. I didn’t want to be. I wanted to stay hidden behind my dad and Garry for just a little while longer. Everybody kept joining around, close family and friends with us, others creating a semi-circle around us. Somehow, I found my brother on my right side, and Alex on my left.

All I could do was stare through the small gap between my dad’s and Garry’s shoulders. Soon, I was going to actually have to do something, and I was dreading that moment now. I was afraid that if I got up there, I would lose it all.

Something in the way I was looking must have shown it. I had been trained not to show emotion, but even the best always had cracks. Even my dad did. The thing that told me I had given my secret away was the simple touch of a hand. I could only feel the heat of another person getting closer for just a second before a hand held mine and gave it a squeeze. I looked up to the left to see Alex already staring down at me. He gave me a quick sympathetic yet encouraging smile. As much as I tried to match it, I knew I couldn’t.

Now knowing how much that tiny bit of heat helped, I reached out to hold my brother’s hand. He seemed just as surprised as I had been, and snapped his eyes in my direction. It was obvious that he was no good at concealing his feelings. He was having a real hard time.

The moment felt like it took a few hours, but really it was just a couple of minutes, if not seconds. My dad and Garry both took a step to the side so I could get through. I took one deep breath and took the tube-like container that Garry was holding out for me. And then it was time for me to actually approach the grave.

The casket was at the bottom, the bouquet of flowers still decorating the top of it. I took a second, just looking down at it, before carefully dropping the container into the grave and stepping away. In that container was a rolled up painting I had made. A few months before, my grandpa had commissioned me to make it for him. But he never got to see the finished painting. Now it was rolled up and he got to keep it with him forever.

I stood there to the side all by myself, but it wasn’t for long. My brother came to the grave next with a single flower that he got to drop as well. When he came to stand with me, I pulled him into a hug. I knew it was technically something that I shouldn’t really do, especially not now, but I couldn’t help myself. Not only did he need it, but I needed it as well.

My two youngest cousins got to drop in their flowers right after Augustus. When they were done, they scurried over and clung to my legs. I wrapped my arm around them too to include them in the hug. Slowly but surely all my other cousins joined in as well.

I looked up as my dad approached with my mom to pay his last respects as well. When I refocused my eyes on the people behind, I made eye contact with Alex. He gave me a single nod, and I finally managed to give him that smile back as I hugged my family tighter.

#all time low #all time low fanfiction #alex gaskarth #Alex Gaskarth fan fiction #all time low imagines #Alex Gaskarth imagines #fanfiction

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nickelkeep · 4 years

Text

Christmas Party

(I’m not back yet, I just didn’t get to post this earlier! I’ll still be back tomorrow after I’ve seen the episode! Pairing: Dean/Ash Rating: Gen Word Count: 1300 Warnings: This is a timestamp for For the Last Time. While it is standalone, you may want to have read that first. Written For: @notfunnydean′s 2019 SPN Advent Calendar On Ao3

Dean stood in front of the mirror and rechecked himself for the third time. Ellen and Bobby were having their big annual Christmas Eve party, and while it wasn’t a big fancy affair - Dean was wearing a flannel over a Metallica shirt with a pair of jeans after all - this year was different.

“Dean!” The voice that sent a warm thrill down Dean’s spine called through the door. “Are you done in there? We have to leave if we’re going to be on time.”

Dean pushed himself away from the sink and crossed to the bathroom door. He took a deep breath and opened the door. “I’m as ready as I’m going to be.”

“Dean,” Ash smiled and looked him up and down. “You look great, babe.” Ash winked at Dean and nodded his head towards the door. “I already called mom; she doesn’t need us to pick up anything; she wants us home.”

“I thought this was home?” Dean wrapped his arms around Ash’s waist and pulled him in for a peck on the cheek. “Sorry, wanted to steal one before we headed out, and I can’t do this while we’re out and about.”

Ash grabbed Dean’s chin between his thumb and pointer finger, holding Dean in place as he pressed their lips together. Dean melted against Ash and hummed a sigh of contentment. “Then kiss me right, Dean.” He took a few steps backward, pulling Dean with him. “Home is wherever you are, Dean. I learned that a long time ago.”

“Just a little rain?” Dean tilted his head and smiled apologetically. He went in for another kiss, which Ash dodged. “One more? For the road?”

“Sooner we get to mom’s, the sooner we can come home. And I’ll give you your gift.” Ash smirked. “Besides, rumor has it Bobby made bourbon bacon.”

“Then why are we still here?” Dean smacked Ash’s ass and bolted to the door, Ash rolling his eyes and laughing behind him.

…

Ellen smiled widely as Dean and Ash entered the house. “Hiya Ash, Dean. How are my boys doin’?” She pulled them both into a tight hug. “I’m glad you two are here. It wouldn’t be a Christmas party with you.”

“It’s just a party, Ma.” Ash tried to pull away but found himself gripped tighter as Ellen planted a kiss on his head.

“Let your momma get sentimental. Two of her boys left the nest at the same exact time. You left me with Sam and Joanna Beth.” She shook her head fondly. “The trouble those two have gotten into since you two have left? It’s like they’re trying to make up for the trouble you two caused.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, well. It looks like it’s turning your hair a little grey there, Elle.” Dean yelped as Ash and Ellen playfully smacked him. “Jeez, none of you can appreciate a joke.”

“It ain’t a joke, Dean, when you’re the cause of some of these grey hairs.” She pointed a finger at him. “Bobby told me about the little incident at the shop.

“Incident?” Dean tensed up at Ash’s question. “What happened at the Shop, Dean?”

“It was nothing, Ash. I promise.” Dean gave a slight shake of his head.

“Nothing my ass, boy. It was some Christmas miracle you weren’t hurt more.” Bobby walked out of the kitchen, causing Dean to sigh in defeat and started explaining what happened. “You’re damn lucky that it was just a bump on the head and nothing more.”

Dean stole a glance at Ash, who looked like he was doing his damnedest to look mildly concerned. “Since dumbass here doesn’t want to own up, you gonna tell me, Bobby?”

“One of the new hires; who I let go, by the way. You were right that he was lyin’ about what he knew-” Bobby looked at Dean before continuing. “- mixed up his bolts, and the muffler wasn’t secured correctly.”

“The exhaust mount failed, the muffler swung down, got me in the back of the head.” Dean frowned and looked at Ash. “It’s why I had that headache two nights ago.”

Ash’s green eyes softened so slightly, the only hint that there was something more between him and Dean. “Dude. Why didn’t you tell me? That could have been worse.”

“I’m fine, Ash. Turn the page.” Dean smiled softly, his eyes locking on to Ash’s.

“Well, then. Now that you two have spoken your peace on that.” Bobby cleared his throat. “Let’s get in to where the actual party is.”

Ash and Dean walked into the living room and were greeted by multiple hellos. Sam and his friend Jess were sitting on the sofa, Jo was talking to Rufus, and Pastor Jim was in the kitchen arguing over football with Caleb. It felt like every Christmas Party Ellen and Bobby had held ever since Sam and Dean came to stay with them.

“Dean!” Sam hopped off the sofa and tackled his older brother in a hug. “You made it!”

“Of course I did, Sammy.” Dean mussed Sam’s hair. “Said we’d be here.”

Sam looked past Dean and looked at Ash before looking back at his brother. “I’m glad you’re both home.”

“Hiya, Sam.” Ash offered a high five, which Sam slapped. “Who’s the lovely lady?”

The evening passed with good food, cold drinks, and fantastic company. The only downside, to Dean at least, was that he and Ash made a point of sitting on opposite sides of the room. They kept stealing glances at each other, smiling when they knew no one was looking.

As it got closer to the end of the evening and Ellen and Bobby started chasing Jo and Sam upstairs, Sam stopped to hug his brother. “Are you guys spending the night? Be here for presents in the morning?”

“Nah, Sammy,” Dean replied, “Me and Ash need to get back to our apartment. What’s the point of paying for it if we stay here?”

Sam hugged Dean tighter. “You’ll be here for Sunday dinner?”

“Of course, Sam!” Ash was hugging Jo, who pulled away to try and get a hug from Dean. “And miss Ma’s burgers? Like Dean would ever let that happen.”

“Plus, I’d send Bobby to drag them here if they didn’t show up.” Ellen mussed Sam’s hair as he reluctantly let go of Dean. “Off to bed, you two.” Ellen waited until Sam and Jo went off to their rooms. She looked to Dean and Ash. “They’re still just getting used to not seeing you every day. I think Bobby and I still are too.”

“You two idjits never had to leave. Not sure why you thought you did.” Bobby harumphed from the kitchen. “This is your home, and we’re your family. No matter what.”

Dean watched as Ash looked back and forth between his parents, his head tilted.

“Bobby is speaking the truth. We love you two dearly.” Ellen patted both of their cheeks and pulled them in for hugs. “You two drive safe, ok?”

“Of course, Ellen. Not gonna let anything happen to my Baby.” Dean smiled.

“I know you won’t.” She gently pushed the boys to the door. “We’ll see you on Sunday. Give us a call if you want something other than burgers, ok? And don’t forget to bring your laundry.”

…

Dean unlocked the door to their apartment, opening it and stepping back to let Ash enter first. They pulled off their jackets and kicked off their shoes before collapsing on the couch together. Dean rested his head in Ash’s lap and closed his eyes.

“You gonna fall asleep on me, Dean?” Ash quietly asked as he started running his fingers through Dean’s hair.

“If you do that, I am.” Dean paused and thought about his next question. “Did you have a good time at the party?”

“Mhmm.”

Dean opened his eyes and found his boyfriend’s green ones. “I did too.” He wrapped his hand behind Ash’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss. As they separated, Dean hazily asked, “Did you want your present now? Christmas is only like a half-hour away.”

“I’ve got the best present right here.” Ash leaned down and kissed Dean again. “Nothing else matters, babe.”

#spnadventcalendar2019 #spncreatorsdaily #spnpetra #spn ficlet #dean x ash #dash #Christmas Party #rare pair #time stamp #for the last time #nickel writes

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ponyponypuddingandpie · 4 years

Text

Character Building; Vertigo

“I am what you have made me I am choice, and I am tyranny I am then and I am now What gods they will be. Then I am Evil, and I am flesh I am the trap, I am the trapped I am beauty and I am chaos Children are Selfish I am the worm And I have broken God“

Vertigo was once a devout member of the Church of the Sunlit Goddess, an outlying chapter of the Celestian church, living far out in western Equestria. She was loyal, and attended church every sunday, listened and believed the preaches of her pastor. She thoroughly believed that Celestia was the incarnation of the goddess of the sun, and that she would save those who were faithful when the end times arrived. She was also a part of the weather service in her town Woodford.

Vertigo lived with her mother. She didn’t know her father for a long time. They lived off of the money both made on the weather service, and also spent time growing vegetables in their little garden. Life was simple.

And then, everything went to hell in a hoofbasket. Her father returned, and beat her within an inch of her life, shattering one of her wings in the process. When she was taken to the doctor, she spent a month in a coma. She woke up missing a wing entirely. In order to save her life, they’d amputated the shattered wing. She was only 22 at the time. Her father had been arrested, and her testimony saw him put away for life.

But she could never do her job again. She could never fly again. A deep depression fell over her, and, whilst she did go home after another month in recovery, she never really recovered. She stayed home, looking after the house, and visited her church more and more often, praying for a miracle. Then, things got worse. Her mother, working herself double and triple shifts to pay for their needs, fell terribly ill. She was working herself literally to death.

In desperation, Vertigo went to her pastor, to beg for the help of the church. To beg him to help her pay her mother’s medical bills, to help keep them afloat, and alive. She would never forget his reply.

“The goddess has a plan for all of us. If your mother was meant to die here to protect your worthless hide, then your mother will die. It’s your responsibility to make it worth something, Vertigo.”

Lost, broken, and utterly alone, Vertigo did everything she could to try and pay for her mother’s medicine. She tried to work anywhere she could. At the tavern, the general store. She even offered her services to the doctor himself. But it just wasn’t enough. Her mother passed away, with her by her side, two months after falling ill. Without her faith, without her mother, and without her wings, Vertigo felt.... hopeless. Worthless. But after a time, that self loathing turned to hatred. Hatred towards her father. Hatred towards her pastor. And hatred towards their so called ‘Goddess’.

See, That was when the voices came. Whispering to her from the darkness. Offering her things from the depths of her mind. Promising her power. Promising to fix her. To make her whole again. As she buried the body of her mother, and planted a single rose bush over her, Vertigo promised herself she’d never let anyone hurt her like this again. She’d never be so powerless as to let someone hurt her. Not without being able to damn well hurt them back at the very least. The whispers in her mind continued. And, after eating the last carrot from the garden that night, and falling to sleep... it came to her in a dream.

It was... a creature of monstrous creation. Of titanic size, and made of copper, flesh and darkness, iron spines poking from its back and tusks jutting from its mouth. It floated through the void of her consciousness. It had no eyes. And it regarded her. It introduced itself as the worm, and promised her the power to seek vengeance on those who so cruelly shoved her aside. Power to rival a god, or a goddess. All it asked.... was for a sacrifice.

“Hurl them into my teeth, that their bones may clog my innards and stave my hunger. I am The Worm, and You will be my Voice.”

Vertigo, pushed by her own rage and need for vengeance, pledged herself to the entity then and there. And pledged her father’s blood as a sacrifice. The worm seemed satisfied with that, and she woke up. it was morning, but things were not as they seemed. She felt... powerful.

Rumours around town were that Vertigo’s father had broken free sometime in the night, and was hiding around in the area. That the constabulary were after him. But the whispers in her head... the whispers told her the truth. The Worm had sprung him from his prison, that Vertigo might feed him in offering to it. It even whispered to her where to go to find him, and how to make him the offering.

When she found him, he tried to taunt her. To tell her she made his goal easier. That he was going to come looking for her. To finish the job. To kill her. But Vertigo was ready. And, with guidance from The Worm, knocked her father out, bound him, and performed a grotesque ritual. Tattoos flowed over her right foreleg and, when they were finished, Vertigo felt power. Power beyond belief, as the twisting tentacled tattoos animated, turning into tiny, writhing versions of the entity itself. She heard it crow in hunger, and saw her father’s eyes open.

She let him see what was about to happen to him, and revelled in his screams of agony and horror as she sacrificed him to The Worm. The Wormlets consumed him. Flesh, Blood, Bone and all. She felt more power flowing into her as her pact with the entity was sealed. She and The Worm, forever bonded.

Naturally, her next target was her old church. And, more specifically, the pastor who had so cruelly turned her away. She didn’t wait for night or any of that foolishness, no.

She waited for Sunday.

And then, she strolled into the church, mid sermon. She heard him vaguely barking demands at her. About how dare she. That she was being heretical, interrupting the word of the goddess.

His words ceased, and were replaced by screams as, with a quick outreaching of her foreleg, the Worm’s power burst forth, Wormlets writhing from her leg and latching onto the pastor. The churchgoers bolted every which way. Pews were knocked over. The whole time, she glared at him in the eye as, slowly, the Wormlets started to feast.

“My mother did not deserve to die,” She told him calmly, enjoying his inability to scream as the pain drove him slowly closer to madness, “And you... you claim to be a good pony, but all you are is a greedy, pathetic poser in robes.”

As they consumed him, slowly, she heard the police burst into the church.

Survivors all have a different version of what happened that Sunday. But, the basics were this. The Church still stands today. And if you enter it, you’ll find the dessicated, rotting head of the Pastor on his lectern, and his entrails spread around the room like demented Hearth’s Warming decorations. And the town of Woodford was erased from existence. Where Vertigo went is unknown. But she is around still. There are rumours of a cult out west. The Cult of the Worm. It’s only small, but rumour is the leader is powerful. A pegasus with one wing. A one winged pegasus mare who can still fly, and can use magic.

Vertigo is an average sized mare, with a coat the colour of whipped cream, and feathers that fade into the blue of a sunny day’s sky. Her mane is short, a habit she kept from weather duties, and a mid length tail, both the light grey of overcast clouds, and eyes bluer than the ocean. And covered in a variety of tattoos. Down her forelegs, across her back (not on her wing, however). It’s unknown just how many she has, as she usually is seen wearing a dark hoodie, or so the reports claim.

#Character building #Vertigo #trigger warning #Assault #Illness #Religion #Warlock #Cult leader #mlp #The Worm

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sailorsei · 5 years

Text

John Seed x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit! 18+ Only!

Word Count: 6.8K

Summary: After a month and a half of fighting her feelings, the junior rookie gives in.

Warnings: Smut, blow job, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, etc.

Author Note: Also this contains side Staci Pratt x Reader!

UPDATE: 3/30/20: I didn’t originally have this fic in it’s entirety posted cause I thought tumblr had a character limit and was getting rid of smut fics but I guess that isn’t the case lol full fic under the cut

~Prologue~

It wasn’t a secret that you and the Seed family had some tension between each other. It had been over a month and a half since you had tried (and failed) to arrest Joseph Seed. It felt like years since you had a taste of “normalcy”. Once you had grouped up with the resistance, you refused to leave Hope County until you were able to bring all of the Seed family to justice.

But. That was the thing. That was the weird, fucked up thing. You didn’t know if you wanted to do that anymore. Even though you had saw what they had done, as you fought them, escaped countless times from them, you started to just pity them. You just wanted them to be healed by what had brought them to this horrible cult.

This wasn’t something you could voice, however. Especially to your closer friends in the resistance. Your crew consisted of Hudson, Pratt, Sharky, and Hurk. Sharky and Hurk helped you spring both of your colleagues a few weeks in to this whole fucked up situation. It took a while for them to be “normal” again, if you could even call it that. Pratt still woke up in the night with night terrors, and Hudson was very against physical content now. It was tough for the both of them, but you were helping them through it.

~Now~

Riding on your four-wheeler, you sped down the road towards Fall’s End. You had some Intel about a potential Peggie attack to steal back Falls End that you needed to tell Pastor Jerome and Mary May. Hanging a left onto the main road to Fall’s End, your walkie crackled to life on your shoulder.

“My, my, deputy. Letting your hair down for once. And a dress! You’re beautiful.”

John Seeds voice softly came through the speaker. You hit the brakes and whipped out your pistol, looking for him.

“Where are you at, you fuckin’ well-dressed weasel?” You yelled. Obviously he could see you, since he was commenting on your appearance. You hoped he was far enough away that he couldn’t see how flustered that had made you.

John Seed, you found, was the most attractive of the brothers. His piercing blue eyes, accompanied by his darker hair, and his good taste in fashion. His words dripped like honey. Even when he had you captured, you would stop paying attention to what he was saying when he was monologing because you were too distracted by his movements.

Of course you tried to hide it the best that you could, but he had picked up on it. The last time that he had had you in his grip, he made sure his touches, and eyes, lingered a little bit too long, sending shivers down your spine. You couldn’t let him get to you though. The last thing you needed was to tell your crew that you had slept with the enemy. But you knew it was just going to get harder and harder.

“You think I’m well dressed? Thank you. And don’t worry about where I am. I’m not here to stir the pot. Just here to observe. Until next time.” The walkie went radio silent. You scanned around you a few more moments before driving away, flipping off the trees behind you.

Walking into the bar, Mary May and the pastor were chatting away over some food.

“There’s my favorite Deputy.” Jerome leaned in for a hug and whispered, “Don’t tell Hudson that.” He chuckled. Mary May waves as she had her mouth full.

“Just wanted to stop in and let y’all know to be in the look out. Peggies might be rallying to take back Fall’s End. Don’t know how credible this is but, better safe than sorry.” You leaned against the bar as you spoke. Mary May rolled her eyes at the thought and kept eating. Jerome nodded in thought.

“Thank you. It’s good to be on our toes at all times. I’ll make sure we have some extra patrols around.” Jerome patted you on the shoulder and went back to his food.

You said your goodbyes and headed back to your four-wheeler and headed towards Dutchs Island. There was a reason you were “dolled up” today. You had been seeing Pratt for a week now, and you had a date today. Was it to fill the John sized hole in your heart, or did you genuinely like him? Who was to say? You both had agreed to keep it causal since you both could die at any time. No use getting attached.

There was a perfect beachy spot by where you had first destroyed a Bliss Shrine, and you two were to meet there and soak up some sun. It had been a while since you had had a day to yourself, and everyone practically forced you to take it. Hudson even playfully kicked you out of the bunker you two called home so that you could have a break.

You waded through the water and began walking up the dirt hill to see Pratt laying out a picnic blanket in the grass patch in the distance.

Your speaker crackled to life once more.

“Don’t have too much fun on your date. Not that you could, since it’s not with me.”

John Seed went as quickly as he came. Your radio was silent once more. You turned off your radio so he wouldn’t disturb you again. But now you knew he was watching you, from somewhere in the trees. Maybe from the bridge? You had no idea, and honestly? It excited you a little bit. You continued walking towards Pratt.

“Hey! You’re just in time. Was just about to bust open the picnic basket.” Pratt reached in and pulled out some sparkling water, which you loved, and handed it to you.

“Thank you, Staci. This is exactly what I needed right now.” You sat down next to him and opened the can, chugging it. Water dripped down your chin to your neck. You could feel Stacis eyes on you, hungrily watching you.

You knew you were being selfish and unfair. But right now, you didn’t care. You needed some sort of release and the idea of John watching you get off drove you wild.

You set the can down and stood up. Staci went to ask you what you were doing when you lifted your dress up and over your head, throwing it to the side. Staci just stared at your body, mouth agape. You hadn’t been wearing a bra, and were wearing sheer, lace panties. You straddled Staci and began to kiss him. He quickly came back to earth from whatever was going on in his head and kissed back, hands latching onto your hips.

You ground against his hips, erupting a growl from Staci. He squeezed your ass with one hand and massaged your chest with the other, eliciting a groan from you. You broke the kiss and latched onto his neck, grazing your teeth against a sensitive spot.

“Oh dear god...” Staci whimpered.

You left a sizable hickey and pulled back, while pushing him down to lie on his back. You slid off of his lap and grabbed onto his belt. You looked up at him with your big doe eyes for the go ahead. You had never seen someone shake their head so fast in their life.

You unbuckled his pants and pulled them down, along with his boxer briefs. His cock sprang up from its confine. He was average size and girth. Just what you expected from a guy of his stature. He had a few beads of pre cum leaking from the tip. You eyed it hungrily. You leaned it and gave it a light lick, eliciting the sluttiest moan from Staci. Must have been a while, you thought.

You jumped right in and took his whole length in your mouth, causing him to buck his hips. You bobbed up and down a few times before he had to stop you.

“Let me at least get you off before I embarrass myself and come within 2 seconds...” He sat up and it was your turn to be pushed down. He hooked his fingers around the sides of your panties and pulled them down, tossing them with your dress. Your confident streak must have been all used up on going down on Staci as when he turned back to you, you instinctually covered your face.

“Don’t worry, I got you. Let me see you.” You uncovered your beet red face to see Staci in between your legs. He maintained eye contact as he licked a long stripe along your folds, causing you to groan. You got yourself off regularly, but to have someone else doing it for you was godly.

He gave your folds a few more licks before diving in and suckling onto your clit. He inserted one finger, then two into you and began pumping. You grabbed onto the picnic blanket for dear life and didn’t bother to try to quiet yourself.

You felt your orgasm building and you began to roll your hips in tandem with his finger pumps. You moaned out Stacis name as you came on his tongue. He moaned into you as you did so. You’re surprised he didn’t come on the spot from you doing that. It wasn’t that Staci was a virgin, but he seemed the type to come fast, and unexpectedly.

“Oh my god, you’re so gorgeous.” He wiped his mouth off on his sleeve and came up to kiss you. You kissed him back and lifted your hips to his, hoping he would get the message.

“Oh, I, uh, didn’t bring a condom or anything...” He said, a little defeated.

“I don’t care, just please, I need you.” You groaned into his ear. He whispered “oh god...” under his breath and positioned himself with your entrance.

As he pushed in, you both moaned in unison. You needed this so badly. You hugged his cock so well. You knew it wouldn’t last for long, so you asked him to flip you over so that he could do you from behind. It was your favorite position and it was a guaranteed orgasm for you.

He grabbed hold of your hips and began snapping his hips against you. You moaned into the blanket and reached your hand in between your legs to massage your clit.

The sounds that you two were making were absolutely sinful. If a Peggie saw you two, they would probably faint.

He continued to thrust into you. He must have found the confidence you lost as he pounded into you, and started some dirty talk.

“You like that? You take me so well.”

You let out a faint mumble in response.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you. I need to know how good I’m doing.” His hand came down onto your ass, making you yell out in both pain and pleasure.

“Oh god, yes, Staci. I’m almost there.”

You could tell he was close too, his thrusts were starting to become erratic.

“Staci, please, fill me up.” You groaned. It was something you liked to save for the end. You didn’t like to tell your lovers about your cum kink, as most people just assumed you were trying to land a baby, which you were not.

Staci came inside you, coating your walls. This was enough to send you over the edge, you yelled into the blanket. He continued fuck you through your orgasm, cum dripping down your thighs as he did. Once you had stilled, he slowly pulled out, causing you both to whimper. You rolled onto your back, Staci lying beside you. You both said nothing as you watched the clouds go by. It was so peaceful that you both had fallen asleep.

After you and Staci had woken up from your little cat nap, you had lunch and said your goodbyes.

You hopped onto your four-wheeler and turned your radio back on. The radio crackled as you did. You hoped it was John, but it wasn’t.

“Hey, you on your way home yet, Rookie?” Hudson asked.

“Yeah, just got back to my ride. Shouldn’t be too long.” You replied.

“Just got back, huh?” She purred over the walkie. “Did you guys have some fun?” She teased.

“You know what? I’ll indulge you. He blew my back out. Pratt may look innocent but he knows his way around a person’s body.” You smugly said. That ought to shut her up. Hudson gasped on her end. “Oh my god! I was kidding! But you slept with him! Oh my god! Just wait until I tell—“

“Don’t tell anyone! We’re trying to keep this casual. Don’t need all of Hope County to know about my dick appointment. Anyways, I’ll tell you more when I get home. See ya.” You revved up your four-wheeler and took off towards the bunker.

Your hair bellowed through the wind, erasing any signs of sex. Even though it was almost 5 o’ clock, the air was still warm. Looking at the river next to you, you could almost imagine what it was like to live here before it all went to shit.

You pulled over to the shoulder and got off your four-wheeler and walked over to the river to get a better look at some deer that were drinking. You got out your phone to take pictures when the radio crackle scared them away, causing you to cuss, loudly.

“Now, Now. A Lady shouldn’t cuss.” John Seed’s voice came out of the speaker. Groaning, you took the radio from your shoulder and help it up to your mouth.

“I’ll cuss whenever I damn well fuckin’ please, thanks. Also, fuck you for scaring away the deer I was looking at.” You put your free hand on your hip as you paced. Why did he feel the need to just call you up whenever he pleased?

“Such a foul mouth. First cussing, and then sucking your friends cock in the open. I think you need to learn some manners.” You froze. So he was watching. Your cheeks flared up. You were at a loss of words.

“What, no witty remark? Interesting.” He chuckled.

“I’m an adult. I can do what I want. And if that means cussing, and sucking dick in the wilderness, then that’s what I’m gonna do. You’re not my dad.” You replied, stomping as you paced. Who did this prick think he was?

“You know what, Seed? Where are you at? I’m getting sick of this cat and mouse game. I can show you what this mouth can do and say—wait, that’s not what I meant, fuck.” You instantly regretted it after it came out of your mouth. Of course you meant you wanted to cuss him out, and maybe kick his ass, but of course, that wasn’t how it was interpreted.

“Oh, I would love to see what your mouth can do. I’m sure I could put it to good use. My men could be there for you in minutes.” He purred. Your cheeks, as well as your pussy, started to heat up. This was your chance. You could say you went to beat him up, that’s why you were going to let yourself get captured. The perfect cover story. You bit your lip and looked around. You made up your mind.

“Fine. I would love to settle this. I’m sure you know where I am already. I’ll wait by my four-wheeler. Anyone gives me shit, I’m whooping some ass, just letting you know.” You started marching towards your ride.

“Of course. I’ll see you soon, Little Lamb.” You shivered at the pet name. The Seed boys all called you by it, but the way John said it had a different effect on you.

You rested your hands on your ride to catch your breath. Were you really doing this? You needed to let Hudson know you were going to be gone for the rest of the night. Didn’t need her poking around more than she already did.

“Hey, uh, Hud. I’ll be actually home a little later. Something came up. Don’t wait up.” You said and turned off your radio. You hoped that she would assume that maybe you met back up with Staci.

You leaned against your ride when you saw a black SUV coming towards you. You instinctually rested your hand on your gun. The SUV pulled up slowly and came to a stop in front of you. A well-groomed Peggie got out of the passenger door and opened the rear passenger door for you, motioning for you to get in. You hid your four-wheeler behind some bushes and tucked the key into your bag, as you headed for the SUV.

“Any funny business and I’ll pop y’all.” You said as you got in. The SUV smelled like it was brand new. You crossed your arms and looked out the window and they pulled off back onto the road. The ride was quiet, save for some low volume gospel music. You knew you were headed to John’s ranch by the route you were going.

As you got closer to your destination, the anxiety set in. What if this was a trap? You shifted uncomfortably in your seat and looked at the driver, to the guard in the seat in front of you. They were armed, but they hadn’t done anything yet. You rested your hand on your gun, hoping it would bring you some comfort.

You pulled up to the big, red fortress. Guards paced around the outside. Peggie flags rippled in the wind. You looked at the entrance into the living room and that’s when you saw him.

John stood on the porch, arms behind his back. His sunglasses sat on his head. He was wearing a blue button up (Which was only half buttoned, revealing his chest), a black vest, and some black jeans. You’re sure they were all designer. He began to walk up to the car as you parked. He opened your door for you, taking your hand to help you out. You were only 5’4” so it was kind of hard to gracefully get out of the SUV without help.

“You’re even more stunning in person.” He said.

“T-thank you.” You were flustered, to say the least. He looked at you with such adoration that you forgot that this wasn’t a date. That this wasn’t a normal get together. You looked at each other for a moment longer until you looked away, at the ground, trying to conceal your blush.

“Let’s get inside. I have dinner set for us.” He rested his hand on your lower back as he guided you to the house. You couldn’t believe it. Dinner?!

Entering the house, you saw a table set on the other side of the fire place. The table was adorned with all sorts of foods. You simply just stared at it, in astonishment.

“I didn’t know what your favorite food was, so I made it all. Please, sit.” He pulled out a chair for you, and you sat down. You didn’t know where to start. There were steaks, roast, mashed potatoes, pasta, fruit, veggies, you name it. You went to stand to dish yourself when John pushed your shoulders back down.

“No, let me. You’re my guest.” He dished you up a little of everything and then himself. He sat at the other end of the table. You took a bite of the steak and groaned, unintentionally.

“Ok, I’ll admit, this steak is fucking amazing—oh sorry. I’ll watch my mouth since you went to all this trouble.” You smiled sarcastically, and went back to eating. John smiled, raising his glass as thanks, and began to eat himself. You two sat quietly as you ate. It was actually pretty nice to eat real food at a dinner table, in a house, with no gun fire in the distance.

“So, tell me, what is your favorite food? I hope this lives up to whatever it is you fancy.” He asked.

“This is going to make me sound like a child, but honestly, its cheese pizza.” You said, a little embarrassed. You loved most food, but pizza would always have your heart. John chuckled.

“No, that’s perfectly fine. I haven’t had my favorite pizza in a long time. There was this place in LA that had the best pizza.” He lost himself in thought for a second. It was as if this was the first time he had thought about his past in a long time.

“What made you leave your past life? What made you come here?” You asked. You only knew John through what you had been told by the resistance. He looked at you with those big baby blues, and looked a little sad, but just for a moment.

“Joseph needed help, and being his brother, I felt it was my duty to be there for him. Anyway, pizza is a perfectly fine food to be your favorite. I hope you saved room for desert.” John stood and walked into the other room, which you assumed was the kitchen. He was gone for a moment and reappeared with some small bowls with spoons. He handed you one and went back to his seat. You looked and saw that it was some sort of either frozen yogurt or ice cream.

“This is gelato. It’s one of my favorites.” He took a bite of his and smiled to himself. You used your spoon and take a small bite to make sure it wasn’t laced with bliss or anything. But what you found, was that it was one of the best things you had ever put in your mouth. You took another bite and said “Oh my God” under your breath as you ate. John seemed pleased with himself.

You cleaned the bowl, and set it down on the table. As you had ate the delicious gelato, Peggies had cleared the table. Some gave you dirty looks, which you happily returned. John stood and offered his hand to help you up. You reluctantly took it and he walked you over to the couch and sat down. You sat on the opposite side of the couch. You took this chance to look around the room. It had high ceilings and a pretty chandelier above where the table was.

“This place truly is a gift. I was so happy to buy it. Makes you feel one with nature with the big doors to the back yard, with the view of the mountains.” John looked past you to the outside. The sun was starting to set, casting sun rays into the living room onto you and John.

“You look ethereal in the sun light.” You turned to look at him and he had somehow scooted across the couch to be closer to you. He was inches from you when you looked up at him.

“I-Uh, thank you.” You stuttered. He raised his hand and caressed the side of your face, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You shivered. You weren’t sure if he was going to kiss you or just stare at you. You waited for him to make a move. His hand moved down from your cheek to your shoulder to your neck. His palm rested on your throat and you suddenly started to panic. Was he really going to choke you out right here? After going to all that trouble for dinner? You went to start cussing him out when he spoke.

“Now. I think we need to do something about that mouth of yours.” He squeezed a little bit against your throat. “I think we need to teach you a lesson about respect.” He ran his thumb over your pulse and released your neck. You swallowed and instinctually went to reach for your throat when he grabbed your hand and stood.

He led you up the stairs to his room. Light peaked through the curtains and dimly lit the room. His bed was lined up with a fire place on the opposite wall, and was parallel with another door which you assumed was to the bathroom. As you looked around the room, John shut and locked the door. You turned to look at him when he harshly pushed you against the wall, his hand finding your neck again. He picked you up by the hips and held you against the door, his hips against yours. His eyes, now looking so hungry, met yours before he crashed his lips against yours.

You melted into the kiss. You had waited for this for so long. His hands gripped your ass hard, you knew it was going to leave bruises. You ground your hips against him, causing him to growl in response. You ran your hands through his hair and tugged lightly. He broke the kiss to kiss your neck, nipping along the way. You angled your head so he could get better access. He bit down hard, causing you to yelp.

“John! What the fuck—“ He pulled away and threw you onto the bed. You went to push yourself up when his hand came down across your ass. You let out an “Ah!” collapsed onto the bed again.

“I’m going to punish you every time you cuss. You’re going to learn.” This turned you on a little. You turned onto your back and looked up at him.

“I’ll promise to be a good girl.” You purred. Your dress and ridden up and exposed your panties. You went to go touch yourself when he batted away your hand.

“You’ll do as you’re told. And I don’t want you pleasuring yourself at all. Understood?” He removed his shirt and vest and looked at you expectantly. You nodded and waited for him to do something. You needed some kind of friction. He leaned down and put his knee right up against your pussy, causing you to whimper.

“Use my knee.” Was all he said, and you happily obliged. He bent down and started kissing you again and he took hold of your wrists and heled them against the bed. You started to grind against his knee. You needed more but this had to do. He held both of your wrists with one hand so that the other could pull down the front of your dress. He grabbed your breast and ran his thumb over your nipple a few times before using his mouth and teeth. You whimpered and arched your back. You needed him inside you.

“Just fuck me already!” You groaned and then he released you, and got off of you and the bed. You looked up at him, frustrated. He looked at you.

“What did I say?” You rolled your eyes and put on your best kiss ass tone of voice.

“I’m sorry. I forgot. Please come back?” You pouted. He didn’t move. And that’s when you took the situation into your hands. You got up and shed your dress. You tossed it to the floor and turned to him. You ran your hands up his chest, admiring his tattoos, before pushing him on to the bed. Before he could say anything, you started unbuckling his belt. He watched you tug down his pants and underwear. He lifted his hips so that you could fully take them off.

You got onto your knees and in between his. His cock was larger than Stacis, and thicker. You looked up at him as you took him into your mouth. You could tell he was burning this moment into his mind. To think back on once and a while. You bobbed up and down as best you could without gagging yourself.

“I told you that you could put that mouth to better use.” He said. You licked a long stripe up his shaft and circled around the head, before taking him back into your mouth. He tilted his head back and began to fuck your mouth. You gripped his thighs to prevent yourself from touching your pussy. You moaned onto his cock and he looked back down at you. He lifted your chin off of him and brought you up to kiss. He grabbed you by the ass and brought you up to straddle his head. He urged you to lower yourself onto his face. You did so and had to grab the head board to support yourself.

He went straight for your clit and you threw your head back in ecstasy. You had good head before, but straddling someone’s head was some next level shit. He tongue fucked you as you felt an orgasm building. You rode his tongue as you came, yelling his name as loud as you could. You didn’t care if the Peggies outside could hear you.

He suckled on your clit as you rode out your orgasm. He slowly raised you up so he could slide out from under you. You stayed where you were as you were still coming down from your high. John pulled your hips towards him and flipped you onto your back. He kissed you lightly, and then looked at you. You were flushed, hair sticking to your forehead, as you panted.

“W-what?” You asked, annoyed. He shook his head and kissed your neck. He lined himself up with you and entered you at a painfully slow pace.

“Please… Go faster.”

“Since you’ve been good, I’ll indulge you.” Without skipping a beat, he thrust his entire length into you, filling you to the brim.

“Oh dear god… This is amazing.” You felt so good you just had to say it out loud. He pumped a few more times, slowly.

“You feel even better than I imagined, Little Lamb. I’ve wanted this for so long.” He rested his head in the crook of your neck, kissing.

“Me too…” You finally admitted.

“I’ve wanted you since I first laid eyes on you, when you came for Joseph. I imagined you just like this, under me, at my mercy.” His thrusts grew more powerful as he reminisced. “Tell me, Little Lamb, just how long have you wanted me?” You ran your nails down his back and wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Ever since the baptism.” You said breathily.

“Tell me how you felt. What you wanted me to do to you. Don’t leave out a single detail. Confess to me.” It wouldn’t be John if he didn’t throw in some of his Eden’s Gate spiel.

“When you held me under the water, I wondered what it would be like to be held under you. I just wanted you to take me then and there. Ah…god.” You could feel another orgasm building, it was getting hard to talk.

“Is that it, Little Lamb?”

“I wanted you to fill me up. I wanted you to mark me up, make me yours. Oh, god, John!” You started to come and John took this opportunity to kiss you. His tongue made its way into your mouth and danced gracefully with yours. The bed creaked and hit the back of the wall as he fucked you through your orgasm.

As you came down, John flipped you over and started taking you from behind. He reached both arms around you and hugged you from behind. His mouth nibbled on the back of your ear as he fucked you into the mattress.

“I feel the same way Little Lamb. I want to be the only one you love. The only one that sees you like this.” He lowly laughed. “The only one that fucks you. You’re mine.” You were caught off guard by him cussing, when he sank his teeth into your shoulder, drawing blood. In a weird, fucked up way, this sent you to orgasm instantly. His hips slammed into you as he came with you. You could feel his cum filling you up, coating your walls completely. He fucked you through both of your orgasms and slowly stopped, but not pulling out. He rested his head against your back and caught his breath. He kissed your shoulder and pulled you with him as he laid on his side, him still inside you.

You both laid there, basking in the afterglow. He finally pulled out, causing you to groan. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer. You closed your eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep.

You opened your eyes and for a second forgot where you were. You turned to see John sound asleep next to you. He had draped a blanket over the two of you. You looked at him as he slept. He looked so peaceful. You let yourself forget all the things he and his family had done. You let yourself pretend that you were just an ordinary couple. You let yourself forget, even if it was just for tonight. You moved closer and snuggled into his chest. He put his arm around you and snuggled back. You listened to his heart beat as it lulled you back to sleep.

Before you knew it, it was morning. You felt next to you for John and found that you were alone. You sat up, clutching the sheet to you and looked around. You could smell bacon coming from downstairs. You got up and went to grab your dress, but it was gone. You were about to get seriously pissed when you looked at the chair by the fireplace.

A blue and white striped summer dress was draped over it, with a pair brand new panties, as well as some flats. A little note was pinned to the dressed. It read:

Good Morning Little Lamb I had these bought for you as you slept. I hope you like them. Come downstairs when you’re showered and dressed. -John

You blushed at the note and made your way over to the bathroom to shower.

After you had showered and dressed, you made your way downstairs. John was setting the table when he turned to look at you. He smiled and brought his hands together like he was going to pray.

“Stunning. Absolutely gorgeous.” He walked over to you and brought you into the most passionate kiss. You kissed him back. He guided you to the table and helped you into your chair.

“I made you some bacon, and eggs benedict. I hope you like that.” You nodded hungrily. You had worked up quite the appetite from last night’s activities. You waited for him to sit down before you dug in. It was amazing.

You helped him clean up and do the dishes. It was very domestic, to the point where it made you feel sad. You wanted this so badly. But you couldn’t have it. John picked up on your change in emotion and grabbed your hands.

“What’s wrong?” He looked sincere. You didn’t know if you should tell him. This was crazy, wasn’t it? You couldn’t want to be with John fucking Seed. All the things he and his family had done to the people of Hope County. You took your hands back and walked over to the window and looked outside. You imagined living here, hell, maybe even raising kids here. You grew teary eyed. You looked back to John.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me. I should go.” You went to leave when he grabbed your shoulders and turned you to face him. Concern all across his face.

“Tell me, Little Lamb.” The nickname was all it took for you to collapse and start sobbing. He picked you up and brought you to the couch. He held you as you cried, and cried. You didn’t know how to convey how you felt without making him upset. You wiped you tears away and took a few breaths.

“I…” You sighed. “I want to be with you.” You looked at him. He looked confused cause, obviously, this was something he wanted as well.

“But I can’t. What would the resistance think? I don’t even agree with all of the things that you and your family do. But I just can’t get you out of my head.” Your lip started to quiver again and John pulled you into a big hug. He rocked you back and forth until you weren’t on the verge of tears and pulled away.

“The decision is yours, Little Lamb. I would love to have you here, with me, and my family. We would love for you to help with Eden’s Gate.” John kissed your forehead. You leaned into the kiss and closed your eyes in thought. Would his family accept you? After all that you had done? And what about your friends? Surely you would be shunned. And that would put a big target on your back. You needed some time to think. You looked at John and gave him a peck on the lips, and stood.

“I need some time to think. I will let you know my decision… Once I figure it out.” You grabbed your bag and hurriedly left the ranch. You decided to walk back to your four-wheeler to give yourself more time to think. You turned on your walkie and Hudson immediately bombarded you with questions. You told her you didn’t want to talk and turned your walkie back off. You rode your four-wheeler for what seemed like hours. You ended up in Faith’s region and you decided to stop and dip your feet in the water at a dock you were near. You sat there, watching the ripples in the water from the fish when you felt someone behind you. You looked and saw Faith, or perhaps an apparition of Faith, approach you. She sat beside you in her signature dress, humming.

“Did John send you here to talk to me?” You asked, staring back at the water. She was humming some gospel tune.

“No. He confided in me about your situation. I wanted to offer some advice.” She took your hand and intertwined your fingers. You let her. She continued to hum for little while longer before turning to you.

“I think you need to follow your heart.” She said. You looked at her.

“But if I do that, my life may as well be over. My friends would hunt me down. I know too much for the resistance, and I in good conscience couldn’t help you guys against them. God I wish I would have never taken this stupid fucking job.” You began to get tear eyed again. Faith pulled you into a hug and you cried into her shoulder as she rubbed your back. She pulled away after you were cried out and went back to looking at the water.

“I know you know my story. I know you may not trust me but let me just tell you something. Not following my heart was what almost led me to my demise. Until I met the Seeds, I always did what I thought everyone else wanted me to do, so that I would get some love from them. But eventually I couldn’t do it anymore. And I almost died. Follow your heart. It won’t steer you wrong.” You went to look at her and thank her, and she was gone.

Something she said resonated with you and that’s when you snapped. You knew what you wanted. You wanted John. You wanted to help the Seeds turn Eden’s Gate around. You didn’t care if your friends hated you. You knew in your heart that this was your lifes purpose. To help this family better themselves. That’s why you took this job. To help people. You ran to your ride and revved it to life and headed to Johns Ranch. You started happy crying on your way there.

You pulled up and practically flew off your four-wheeler and ran towards the porch. Peggies looked startled but didn’t try to stop you. You’re sure you’re on their “Don’t Fuck With” list now cause of John. You ran inside and didn’t see John.

“John! Where are you! It’s me! John!” You yelled. You heard him call for you from the back yard. You ran out and saw him with Joseph, sitting on some lawn chairs. You froze. You didn’t know how much Joseph knew, but you were still afraid. You slowly walked up to them. They both stood. You stopped in front of them and looked at your feet, playing with the ring you were wearing, not sure on how to tell them what you decided. Joseph put a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him.

“I know why you are here, Little Lamb. I am happy to have you in our family.” He pulled you into a hug and then into that weird forehead touch thing that he does with the others. He placed a kiss onto your head. He pulled away and nodded to John and made his departure.

You looked at John after, and you could see the hope, the pleading in his eyes. You began to cry again and threw your arms around him. “I’m following my heart, and it led me to you.”

#my fic #john seed x reader #john seed #far cry 5 #joseph seed #faith seed #staci pratt #joey hudson #staci pratt x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #my fics

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deputy-evie-miller-blog · 5 years

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Far Cry 5 Slight AU - Children of the Forest / Part 3

> Part 2 <

Includes: Joseph x Deputy and slight John x Deputy

*Dark themes, violence, strong language, etc.

Note: I want to explore a different kind of deputy and a different way for the cult to operate so this story is probably going to deviate far from a “normal rook” or “normal cult” experience. If that’s ok with you then, please continue reading and I hope you enjoy<3

Hands bound by thick rope, Rook struggled ever so slightly against the restraints. John - the dark haired man with bright eyes and a silver wolf’s pelt - dug his palms into the back of her shoulder, guiding the defeated deputy through the forest with ease. He knew these twists and turns better than the tattoos etched on his fingers.

Jacob - the ginger with dull eyes and a tawny brown wolf’s pelt - stalked not too far behind them. A crudely made wooden bow was held tight in his fists, string drawn back as if he expected to let loose an arrow at any moment. This set confusion in Rook’s head.

Was it possible someone would try to save her? Pastor Jerome, maybe? Mary May?

As if to answer the burning question, a deer skittered from the woods, pouncing across the path not too far behind. Jacob launched into action, whirling on the animal and releasing his arrow all within the span of three seconds. There was a short, sickening noise as the tip embedded itself straight into the buck’s left eye. Wobbling on it’s knees for a moment, the woodland creature soon fell to the dirt with a soft thud.

“Ah!” John let loose a sudden yell, quieting himself quickly. Flickering his gaze from side to side, he finally settled a glare on the larger man. “What was that for?!”

“Bagged dinner,” he smiled a toothy grin, sauntering over to his kill.

Bending over, he scooped his arms beneath the deer’s stomach, lifting it with one heave and tossing the whole thing over a shoulder. Grunting with the small amount of effort, he came to a stand next to Rook. He left a searing gaze burning into her skull, lips curled slightly.

“Gotta eat, and now we have one more mouth to feed…”

With a short gasp, Rook glared right back at him, defiantly staring down the challenge. Was he angry that they had captured her?? It was their decision to take her back to whatever hideout or home they had here in this forest, not hers!

She was about to retort back, but John just so happened to do it for her.

“Oh, lay off, Jacob,” he drawled, rolling both eyes. “We need more people. If you’re so worried about food, then you should let others hunt with you!”

“No,” the ginger spoke simply, brows hung low and massive arms folded across his chest. “We’ll just lose them, too.” Releasing a breathy sigh, his face softened. “They aren’t as strong as I am against-” As if suddenly remembering Rook was here, his stare fell on hers and he cut himself off. A grunt fell from the back of his throat and he shook his head. “Forget it. Let’s just get this little one back to camp.”

With a smug sort of smile, John said, “See, I told you this was for the best,” and continued to shove the frightened - and now thoroughly confused - deputy through the leaves and foliage.

She couldn’t imagine why these forest dwellers needed people so bad. Jerome figured Fall’s End lost about three people a week to the darkness, which didn’t sound like much at first, but the numbers really added up. That accounted to about twelve citizens a month, and in a rinky dink, podunk place like Hope County, it really made a difference! Everyone thought they were being taken to the preacher man, and while she knew she was, she still had to wonder if all the others were too. Did the preacher make them disappear…?

A chill ran down her spine, or perhaps it was the cold, unfeeling touch of John’s fingers digging in her skin. Either way, she knew she had to get out of here. There was no point in trying to be a hero. Jerome was right. She should have stayed safe, not wondered about the rumors or went looking for trouble. But they were so far in now. The town must’ve been more than a mile away and in terrain like this, she had no hope of ever finding her way back without more experienced help. She knew how to survive, how to hunt, how to live in the wilderness. Directions, though? Now that was a different story.

Maybe if she gathered some intel…? Learning how to properly question suspects had been a part of her training and such a skill would be a big use to her right about now…if she had ever been any good at it! Staci Pratt topped the class, harboring just the right amount of intimidation to get anything out of anyone! Rook, well, she wasn’t intimidating at all. Never had been, never will. But, possibly she could try a different approach…

“U-um, eh-hem,” clearing her throat gently, she caught the attention of her dark haired captor.

The man peered down curiously - wary, but still curious. That was a good sign. Rook decided to move forward with her plan of action.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” Before he could respond, she added quickly, “Seeing as I have to stay and this is my…new home? I should at least know what it’s like…”

Jacob had strayed far ahead of them and John cast a quick glance, perhaps checking if they were out of ear shot. He seemed to confirm something to himself and looked back down at his captive.

“You’re going to our camp,” he started softly before sneering, “If you expected me to tell you exactly where it was then you’re far more stupid than I thought you were!”

“No. No, I didn’t!” She insisted, voice involuntarily cracking. “I just thought that-“

“You thought wrong, little one,” hissing, he loomed close to her ear, whispering in a harsh but rather non-violent tone, “Besides, you don’t need to question anything. Just know we’re taking you somewhere where you’ll be safe. Those fools in Fall’s End don’t know what they’re doing. They can’t protect anyone,” he sneered, brushing his lips far too close to the sensitive skin on Rook’s ear. “When it comes, they won’t be prepared. But, we will.”

Drawing away, he gave her a quick shove, catching up to Jacob in a manner of seconds. Along the way, he gave a menacing snarl.

“No more talking now. We walk in silence.”

Jacob glanced over, raising an orange brow, but John simply ignored him.

“Next you will meet the Father. He will decide if you’re worthy, and then you will be saved. There’s nothing more to it.

Nothing more to it.”

#far cry 5 #fc5 #far cry 5 writing #fc5 writing #my writing #joseph x deputy #joseph seed x deputy #joseph seed x rook #john seed x deputy #john seed x rook #john x deputy #joseph seed #john seed #children of the forest #part 3

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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Preacher’s Daughter Chapter One(Rujubee) - OtterInYourWater

A/N: Hello! This is actually my first post to AQ, though not my first fic, so I hope any other fellow Rujubee shippers enjoy this(‘cause the sheer lack of this adorable ship anywhere is honestly disgraceful).

Peace, pride, and happy reading, Loves!

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Raven

Raven distractedly navigated the barren halls of the massive school, trying to wrap her head around everything that had happened in just the past few hours, as well as try to find her destination. She nervously fiddled with the silver band around her index finger, twisting it in different directions and running her fingers over the cool sapphire gem there.

It almost seemed as if her feet were on autopilot while her mind raced ahead in every direction possible.

Once to her destination, she opened the opened the door apprehensively. Peeking her head in slightly, she emerged fully once she saw that only one person was in there, and he was staring directly at her.

“Hello, Raven,” He spoke in a deep, rumbling tone.

She didn’t say a word in reply, only challenging him with a glare.

The man stood, walking over to the blonde in purposeful steps. She bit the inside of her cheek, his presence sent a chill up her spine.

“If you don’t know already, I’m the head of this school and my name is Pastor Inthyrath. I’d like to discuss a few things with you. So, please, take a seat,” The teen complied, sitting in the lone wooden chair as he sat behind his desk.

“Alright, so not to cost you or me much time, I’ll be running through this somewhat quickly. This,” he handed her a small, white pamphlet that had materialized from his desk, “is your school schedule. You are required to attend these classes as well as Sunday mass.”

“Last but not least,” he handed the blonde an, at least, quarter of an inch thick little booklet. “Your rules. I, as well as every other staff member who works here, expects all of these to be followed at all times,” Raven nodded her head along mindlessly, many of his words just sounded like white-noise.

The two stayed silent, only staring at each other, trying to make the other break.

“Now, I just want you to keep a few things…in mind whilst you are staying here,” The man arose from his position at that and began to circle around the room, around Raven.

“One, if I’m to call you to my office, you will not speak of anything that goes on. Not to your father, not that he actually cares about you,” The teen winced slightly when he uttered those words, “not to any person at this school.”

“Two, you are not to discuss your ‘Psycho Corrective’ class with anyone other than those who are in your class. Understood?” She didn’t understand what a 'psycho corrective’ class was, but based on the dangerous look in his eyes, it wasn’t a 'happy’ class. His eyes held the look of a lit match, as he placed an enrapturing hand on her shoulder.

Tears almost brimmed in her eyes, his grip was unforgiving and painful. It hurt. A handprint would most likely mar the skin there with an angry bruise. The feeling was all-too-familiar to Raven.

“Now, go on your way,” he finally let go after a few, mind-numbing minutes. Raven almost wanted to run away from him as far as possible.

Gripping onto the items in her hand, she all but scurried out of the room, jogging back to the sanctuary of hers and Jujubee’s room.

'All I’ve got to do now is find room 162.’ She rolled the number around in her head, eyes flitting around the halls to see the silver-plated numbered plaques on the doors.

Raven turned the doorknob, unsurprised to find it unlocked and strode in. Until she heard a scream, one akin to that of a horror movie banshee. She barely saw a glimpse of the nude back of her new roommate before she scrambled to close the door.

“S-Sorry!” She could barely stutter out before she slammed the door shut, the sound reverberating through the hall. Leaning against the dark wood, she slowly slid down, pulling her knees up to her chest in an effort to conceal the blood-red blush painting itself across her cheeks, the tips of her ears, and down the colomn of her neck.

The blonde’s heart had skipped a few beats and her breathing was slightly uneven. 'I’ll never live this down,’ Raven thought solemnly as she rocked from side-to-side lightly.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Meanwhile…

Jujubee

Jujubee nervously bit at her lip, pacing around the room. She knew how confusing the labyrinth of a school could be and worried that Raven was somehow lost in her haste to escape.

Just as the brunette was about to slip past the door, she heard a knock, sharp and insistent. She opened the door, staring up as she saw the tell-tale signs of her new roommate; the permeating smoke scent, leather, and a scowl. Jujubee flashed her wide smile, only receiving a look of annoyance before feeling a gentle push on her shoulder.

Her face fell slightly, watching as Raven kneeled on the floor, rifling through her suitcase and unpacking. The tension was palpable, the only sounds being the faint sounds of breathing and distant voices of giggling girls. The brunette pursed her lips as she stared at the methodical movements of Raven’s hands, placing neatly folded clothes in separate piles to be hung.

She watched as the light just caught on a ring at the right moment; a gleaming blue sapphire gem on a silver band. Jujubee was mesmerized by the sheer beauty and craftsmanship on the ring, realizing that the blonde must have payed a pretty penny for such a gem.

“Where’d you buy that ring? It’s gorgeous,” The words tumbled from her lips without hesitation. She held her breath as the movements stopped, and the ring disappeared for a moment.

“It was a gift,” The voice was quiet, and almost choked. The brunette noticed how Raven kept her words short and minced, something had to be significant of the ring.

“It’s very beautiful…do you know why it was given to you?” Jujubee treaded lightly; she knew that she could be working in sensitive territory.

(She never received an answer…)

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Raven

Raven pulled at the plain covers of her new bed, trying to feel comfortable as she faced the wall. She didn’t want to see Jujubee, even in the darkness where everything was muted and unrecognizable.

She listened as the other teen’s breathing evened out and she heard slight snores. Her ears honed in on the sounds, making sure that enough time had passed before the blonde made her journey outside.

'Thank you, dear Jujubee, for giving me the complete tour of this hellhole. Now I know where I can escape,’ She thought as a devilish smirk crept onto her face.

Careful not to make loud noises, Raven swung her long legs across the bed and padded over to her suitcase, easily finding the cleverly stashed cigarettes as well as her phone. She opted to grab her leather jacket, knowing how biting the autumn cold could be in Ohio.

Swiftly and noiselessly, she made her way through the door, disappearing into the complete darkness of the hallway.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Raven navigated the labyrinth fairly easily considering the short amount of time she’d been there; only one day, but it already felt like twenty.

Cautiously, she tried opening a smaller than normal door that, she hoped, led to the flat roof of the school.

The blonde swore under her breath when the lock didn’t budge. She pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight, swearing again once she saw that there were two locks.

She bit her lip in thought, inhaling sharply once she remembered the couple of bobby-pins that she kept in the pocket of her jacket.

The teen held two of the pins between pursed lips, the other being twisted and manipulated by nimble fingers.

Raven’s eyes lit up once she heard the soft click of the padlock opening, finally gaining access to the roof.

As she stepped onto the concrete, the hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood up in response to the bone-chilling wind. Her feet shifted, trying desperately to find warmth. She tucked her arms against her body in hopes of stopping the shaking.

Slowly, the blonde walked towards the edge of the roof. She leaned down, letting her upper body rest on the small railing. She allowed her head to fall, the strands that had escaped from her ponytail falling with.

The pants she’d chosen hung low on her hips, even with the drawstring pulled tight and the tank top was incredibly thin, allowing the hardened peaks on her breasts to be noticeable.

With numb fingers, she pulled out the carton of cigarettes along with her lighter. She cupped her hands around the small stick as the lighter flickered, trying to keep the flame ablaze in the wind. The cigarette burned bright against the dull sky.

Raven inhaled deeply, feeling the worries disappear with every second that passed by. She turned her head to the moon as she exhaled the smoke out of her mouth, watching as it twisted and turned. The blonde had tried to ween herself off of the hazardous sticks for a few days, but to no avail. She just wasn’t emotionally strong enough.

She tried to savor the taste of nicotine on her tongue, know that she couldn’t just go out into town and buy another pack; she’d have to make do with only having one every once in a while.

With only a few more drags, the stick had been burned into a small stub and was useless. The blonde tossed it to the ground, out of sight.

Raven tilted her head towards the sky, watching as more stars slowly appeared in the vast darkness, twinkling brightly. She didn’t know the names or shapes of the constellations, but she made her own. She saw a heart and clutched at her own.

Her mind went back to Jujubee’s and her earlier conversation, even if she tried to suppress it.

“Where’d you buy that ring? It’s gorgeous.”

“It was a gift,” Her voice had unintentionally choked up as her mind tried to will the memory away.

“It’s very beautiful…do you know why it was given to you?”

Raven never answered; she couldn’t. It was still too painful, like a wound that hadn’t healed and never would. Like a forest fire, the damage already done. Like a fight, the cuts and bruises scarred over and forgotten but the venom-laced, scathing insults fresh as daisies.

'I wanna see her again, just one more time to even hear her voice would be enough.’

The blonde gripped her phone tightly, staring at the blank screen as she contemplated. Shakily, she started typing in her mother’s last-known phone number. It was ludicrous; it wouldn’t work. But, some part of her just wanted to try, some part of her just didn’t want to accept the truth. The truth hurt too much.

She paused after each number, even going as far as to hover over the last digit for several minutes before clearing it completely. What was she trying to do to herself? What was she trying to prove that she didn’t already know?

Again, she repeated the number sequence, still pausing before the last digit could be entered.

“Fuck it,” Raven said aloud, voice raspy and hoarse. She tapped, feather-light and hesitant, on the final number and brought her phone close to her ear, hearing the repeating rings.

She paced lethargically, feet dragging against the cold concrete with an arm curled under her breasts and wrapped around to hold her side. She felt as though she would collapse and completely fall apart if she didn’t do so.

The ringing was sharp and piercing, too long. Raven kept repeating the word no over and over again in her thoughts; all she wanted was to hear her mother’s voice, even if it were just through a voicemail message, that would be enough.

The voice never came, not even a voice message, and it took every fiber of her being to not physically collapse, cry, scream, break her phone and curse it for not providing an answer.

Raven no longer cared in that moment, she only stared with glazed eyes at the moon, wishing that she could just take everything and one that she loved there and be happy, free, in the know.

A/N: I just wanted to say, I do not claim for any of this to replicate any school or these characters real lives. Anything that that happens to correlate with you personally or something popular is purely coincidental. Have an amazing day/afternoon/night, and stay outta trouble, Loves!

#rpdr fanfiction #raven #jujubee #rujubee #cisgirl au #fluff #catholocism #high school au #lesbian au #preachers daughter #otterinyourwater #concrit welcome

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dwarven-beard-spores · 5 years

Note

26 from the quote ask thingy with nanny Crowley and gardener Aziraphale because I neeeeeeed

Why thank you! I feel as though this one got a bit out of hand, but I made it to the smooches eventually, and I think it all works out.

The rest of the series, can be found together as Make A Life Worth Living on AO3

Every Thursday morning, before the sun was up, Brother Francis would step out into the Dowling’s garden, nod as though he’d done something, and leave a note to remind the rest of the staff that it was his day off. For some reason, no one could ever remember his schedule. He would leave through the front gate and walk quietly down the road to the bus stop, a mile or so away. It was time to think, he said, on the rare occasion when someone offered him a lift. He just wanted to walk through the sunrise and think.

About an hour later, every Thursday, Nanny Ashtoreth would wake inside the house, check on sleeping Warlock, and hiss quiet advice to Ms. Dowling as to how the child had been getting on. Then she would pick up her umbrella and carpetbag and walk out the front gate and down the road away from town, in the opposite direction of the bus stop. She was an ominous blot on the vaguely pastoral, somewhat developed area, and her shoes clacked loudly whether she was walking on concrete, or a dirt road, or on the grass. In the year and a half she’d been with the family, no one had managed to find out where she went. No one had felt inclined to try very hard.

By this time, Brother Francis would be standing beside the bus stop, waving away each of the two busses that came by at this time on a Thursday. He entertained himself by doing small acts of kindness for the driver and the passengers, because that was the sort of person he was, and small acts of malice, because Nanny Ashtoreth rarely encountered anyone on such mornings and it was good to keep things balanced.

About half an hour after Nanny Ashtoreth had left the Dowling’s house, an old black Bentley drove past the front drive. It shone like new despite having spent the past week hidden in a conveniently large shrub, and no one knew who it belonged to. Not that they’d tried very hard to find out.

Ten minutes after that, the Bentley pulled up to the bus stop, the passenger door cracked open, and Crowley said “get in, Angel,” as Aziraphale said “good morning, Dear.”

This particular Thursday happened to be in early of August, and it was already uncomfortably warm. Aziraphale wiped a bead of sweat off his neck. He preferred to sweat, on principle, though if the summer kept on the way it had been going he would be sorely tempted to change his mind. Crowley did not sweat, and Aziraphale was unsure if that was because she chose not to, or it hadn’t occurred to her, or perhaps, being a serpent, she was physically unable to. He didn’t ask.

“Breakfast?” Crowley asked, as always. As always, the answer was yes, and Crowley adjusted course for an outdoor café that served marvelous scones.

“Have you noticed anything, you know, occult about the boy?” Aziraphale asked, thinking it better to get the worst out of the way first. As always, the answer was no.

For all its features, the one thing the Bentley didn’t have was a strong air conditioning system. Aziraphale rolled down the window partway, but had to roll it up again when Crowley picked up speed. He miracled the air around him a few degrees cooler and turned slightly to watch Crowley as she drove. Everything about her was sort of desperately severe, from the tight bun of her hair to the furrow in her forehead to the purse of her mouth and the tight stillness of her hands on the steering wheel. He thought about putting one of his hands over hers, for comfort or to reassure himself of… something, but wasn’t sure if she’d allow it. She’d been particularly aloof recently.

Accounts of Warlock’s weekly developments carried them the rest of the way to the café and halfway through breakfast, with both beings trying to focus so that they might spend the afternoon and evening really enjoying themselves.

Then, “we’re going to the zoo on Tuesday,” Crowley said, pushing things forward a bit. She sipped her tea primly. The cup gave a sharp clink when she set it back in its saucer. “You ought to meet us there.”

Aziraphale ate a scone. “Why the zoo?” he asked, though he was distracted by the subtle way Crowley rolled her shoulders and winced.

For millennia, Crowley’s spine had naturally assumed a snakey, almost boneless quality that, when she was relaxed, manifested in all manner of slouching, slinking, and draping herself over furniture. Now, Crowley normally held it to nearly human standards until it was time to get comfortable, but Nanny Ashtoreth was perpetually rigid as though she’d been built around a ruler. It looked… uncomfortable.

“It’s the sort of thing one does with children,” Crowley said. “Mr. Dowling is hosting a luncheon for some very important people, and it has been suggested that Warlock and I make ourselves scarce.” The lift of her eyebrows indicated that it was a bit more than a suggestion, and also that she found the whole thing rather ridiculous. “I don’t know what he’s worried about. He hardly sees either of us as it is, and children make excellent conversation pieces.”

“Mmm,” said Aziraphale. He ate another scone and decided now was not the time to address Crowley’s issues with the Dowlings’ parenting strategy. He was not particularly partial to zoos, but it would be nice to get out for the day, and having the particulars of his work schedule slip people’s minds was very easy indeed. “Shall I meet you at the bus stop, then?”

“I don’t think so,” Crowley said. “You’d better meet us there. By the giraffes, perhaps? They’d be a bad example for the boy. They’re selfish and malicious, you can see it in their eyes.”

“That’s hardly true, Dear. They’re kind and—”

“And absurd.”

“Ineffable,” Aziraphale said, holding back his smile until Crowley scoffed. “But what do you mean I ought to meet you there? We’re coming from the same place, aren’t we? The Dowlings won’t be any the wiser, and it’s not as though Warlock will mind. He’s quite fond of me you know.”

Meeting at the bus stop on their days off had been Crowley’s idea, because she didn’t fancy the Dowlings thinking that Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis were working together, or being intimate together, or even knew each other beyond the limits of their jobs. Aziraphale had agreed because it was more practical to play it safe than to alter the family’s memories if they got upset, and because it reminded him, in a way, of the care they’d taken in the days when the Arrangement was young and seemed far riskier than it had turned out to be.

“It’s not about what he minds,” Crowley said. “It’s about what he thinks. And Ms. Ashtoreth is not the sort of woman who picks up male company in secret. She might accept chance companionship during an outing, though, which is why you’ve got to meet us there and pretend you knew nothing about it.”

Aziraphale mulled over this as he finished his tea. “But surely,” he said. “Warlock won’t know the difference.”

“You can’t be sure of that,” Crowley said. “And at any rate, I will. Ms. Ashtoreth is not a reckless woman. Nor is she a friendly one.”

“No,” Aziraphale agreed.

“She carries the secret sadness of family estrangement and heartbreak, which have made her bitter,” Crowley explained, sounding more and more like Ms. Ashtoreth with every word. “She trusts only herself to protect and corrupt the child in her care. It doesn’t matter if she thinks Francis is resoundingly homosexual, she doesn’t trust him enough to scoop him off the side of the road.”

“Dear, it’s really just you and me,” Aziraphale said weakly, wondering when that had stopped being true.

“It’s just you,” Crowley corrected, her voice sharp, brittle, and suddenly her own again. “You always manage to just be yourself, but with roses instead of books and disappearing around the side of the house instead of closing your shop, and they believe you.”

“That’s not entirely accurate,” Aziraphale protested, this being easier to address then the vague unease Crowley’s plan had sparked in him. “I’ve spent rather a lot of effort on the details of appearing human, the hobbies and the sweat and so forth. I just don’t bother to completely change my character every time.”

“You see, that wouldn’t work for me,” Crowley said. “And it’s too late to change it now, anyway.”

They finished their breakfast in silence. Crowley was very stiff and controlled, and Aziraphale felt as though she were very far away. Without warning, she stood and placed a neatly folded stack of money on the table to pay their bill. Aziraphale tucked the last scone in his pocket then followed her to the car.

Before she opened the door, Aziraphale finally chanced it and put a hand on her shoulder. Crowley stiffened, then let out a breath. A small amount of her tension went with it, and she placed her own hand over Aziraphale’s.

“Crowley,” he said. “I can play along. But I wonder if you’re…. getting lost, rather.”

“I can let it down with you,” she said. “Sort of. But around any of them, even Warlock, especially Warlock… I can’t.”

“You’ve barely let it down today at all,” Aziraphale pointed out. “Hardly for the past month.”

“Oh,” said Crowley. She licked her lips in a very Crowley way, forked tongue and everything.

“I think I understand if it’s easier that way,” Aziraphale said. “Pretending you don’t know me. Especially if Ashtoreth doesn’t know about, well, you know, but, er.”

“Angel.”

“You’re the one who talked me into this, after all, and if you must stay in character, then perhaps we could at least—”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, turning to face him. She hesitated a moment. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

“Ah,” said Aziraphale, surprised. “Are you sure?”

Crowley nodded, so he did.

Crowley’s lips were tense and tasted like lavender tea and Aziraphale kissed them gently once, twice, again, before Crowley stuck her hand in his hair and pulled him into something deeper with a lot more tongue. There was something desperate in the way she kissed, both delighted and frantic. It had been a long time since they’d kissed like this, but both of them remembered the way.

Aziraphale’s hands drifted to her back, holding her close as her rigid posture relaxed into a curve that used every one of her many vertebrae. He continued to hold her as they broke out of the kiss and she rested her forehead on his shoulder.

Aziraphale couldn’t hold back his smile. “I thought Ms. Ashtoreth wasn’t the sort who did things like that,” he murmured.

Crowley sighed into his shoulder. “That wasn’t her.”

Aziraphale chuckled and ran his hands down her back. “Good morning, my dear.”

He held her a moment longer, before Crowley stepped away and leaned back on the car, crossing her arms and looking very much not a proper nanny. “I’m glad we got to do that again before. Ah. You know.”

“Ah. Yes. Quite.” Aziraphale found he had nothing to do with his hands, and also that they were sweaty. He wiped them on his trousers.

For several minutes, nobody did anything. Aziraphale turned over thoughts about potentially kissing Crowley again, before he decided it was too soon to ask.

“I’ll meet you at the zoo,” he said at last. “No trouble, really. By the giraffes, you said?”

“Tuesday,” Crowley agreed. She stood up and opened the Bentley door. “Where was it you wanted to go today? Art gallery?”

“Anywhere besides the zoo,” Aziraphale said as he climbed in the other side of the car.

When Crowley pulled away, only one hand was tight around the wheel. Aziraphale was holding the other.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #make a life worth living #my writings #fanfiction #ask games #cyberneticbanshee #nanny ashtoreth #brother francis

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ruined-by-destiel · 5 years

Text

Sister, Sister - Part Three

Summary: Your dad is on a hunt, and you’ve got a terrible case of cabin fever.

Words: 920

No Pairing (sister!reader)

Warnings: angst

Notes: sorry it’s taken me so long to update this. I can’t promise there will be more regular updates, but I’m trying my best. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated ♥️♥️

Your name: submit What is this?

August 27, 1989

“Lock the doors and windows, close the shades, and most important…”

“Watch out for Dean and Sammy. I know.”

You watched your dad zip up his duffel bag and sling it over his shoulder. “Dean, if something tries to bust in-”

“Shoot first, ask questions later,” Dean answered from the couch. “Got it.”

“Good. I’ll be back soon.” John paused with one hand on the doorknob, shooting you a quick glance. “Be safe.”

You sighed as he left, walking over to lock and bolt the door behind him. “Always am.”

You sat in the backseat, your forehead pressed against the window while Sam slept, laying across the middle seat with his head in your lap. You could see Dean next to him out of the corner of your eye, trying to keep his eyes open but eventually nodding off.

Your leg started to tingle and you stretched it as best you could without waking up Sam, leaning back against the seat. You looked up in the rear-view mirror, your dad staring intently at the road, speeding well past the limit.

His gaze shifted and met yours for a split second before you snapped your head back down, feeling the pit in your stomach grow. You heard him sigh softly, but say nothing. He didn’t have to- you knew what he was thinking. But it hadn’t been your fault. Not really.

At least that’s what you kept telling yourself.

John had been gone for a few days already, and you were getting restless in the small motel room. You hadn’t left the entire time he’d been gone, and you needed to blow off some steam.

Sam was already asleep, and Dean was watching tv. You mulled it over briefly before grabbing your coat and the small pistol Bobby had given you, unbeknownst to your dad, tucking it in your waistband.

“Dean, I’m going to go outside for a little, ok?”

“Can I come?” Dean sat up, looking at you expectantly.

“Someone needs to watch Sam.” His face fell. “It’ll only be for a bit, please?”

He huffed and sat back, propping his head against one arm. “Fine.”

“Lock the door, and don’t open it unless it’s our knock, ok?” You heard him mumble in response and left, standing outside the door for a few seconds before hearing the lock engage. You took a deep breath, shoved your hands in your pockets, and started walking.

The sun had only just begun to set, so there was a soft glow coming through the clouds and hitting the buildings, bathing everything in a golden pink. A cool breeze hit your face as you marched down the road, sending shivers down your spine. It felt so good to be outside.

You found a small bench a ways past the motel and sat down, enjoying the fresh air as you watched the sun set. You didn’t get a lot of time to just sit like this and watch what was happening around you, so you relished in it for as long as you could. You closed your eyes, just for a minute, feeling the stress of the week wash right off you.

When you opened your eyes again, it was pitch black. You must have dozed off.

“Crap.” You got up and sped back to your room, really hoping Sam was still asleep and Dean hadn’t gone out looking for you.

As you turned a corner, you felt your heart drop to your stomach. The impala was hastily parked, partly up on the sidewalk, the front door wide open. You stood there, frozen, before snapping back and bolting inside.

Dean stood in the entryway, staring dejectedly into the room with the sawed off at his side. He turned his head as he heard you enter, whispering softly.

“I’m sorry.”

You walked past him, John sitting on the bed holding Sam tight. His head snapped up at the sight of you. “Where the hell were you!”

“I needed some air. I didn’t mean to be gone so long, I…” you trailed off, heart still racing. “What happened?”

“Sam almost died, Y/N. I needed you here. Both of you,” he shot Dean a dirty glance, and you felt him shrink back against you. “I told you not to leave this room, I told you not to let them out of your sight!”

Tears pricked your eyes. “I’m sorry, daddy.”

“Get your stuff. We’re leaving.”

That was three hours ago. You were almost at Pastor Jim’s now, John had called shortly after you’d left. He was dropping the three of you off before going back to finish the job. You told him he couldn’t leave now, but he just ignored you and threw your things in the trunk, instructing you to sit in the back with your brothers.

He hadn’t uttered a single word the whole trip. You tried apologizing again but he just grunted and turned up the radio.

The tears had stopped about an hour back, your eyes still puffy and red from crying silently. If John had noticed, he hadn’t said anything.

The car jolted you slightly as it came to a stop, John turning off the ignition. He ran his hands over his face, just sitting there.

“Dad?”

He sniffed and moved his hands away, looking at you through the reviewer mirror.

“I’m really sorry, daddy.”

He sighed, looking like he was going to say something, before rubbing his eyes again and opening the door. “Let’s go. Pastor Jim’s waiting inside.”

wanna be tagged?

@teamfreewill-imagine @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @sleepywinchester @lilili-yabbaets @sparklingsammy @ronnie248-blog @moonstar86 @love-kittykat21 @fangirlingfanatic2442 @plz-feedme @missdestiel67 @alicat-life @aly-birleanu @frenchhotmess @grace-for-sale @waywardasfudge @waywardlodging @is-that-a-gas-leak-or-a-demon @queenofenglands-nextofkin @riverfinleybeckham @underfellaewsomenssisreal @akhuna01 @cinna-spice @itstotalyblue @agirlwholovesfandoms @skeletoresinthebasement @riverfinleybeckham @dizzy-sunshine @vansawssupernaturalpage @deanwinchestqr @puppalecki

#sister sister #sister!winchester #dean x sister!reader #sam x sister!reader #spn imagine #y/n winchester #dean winchester #sam winchester #john winchester #angst #suzana writes

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themoonandotherslikeit · 5 years

Text

The Look in Her Eyes- Chapter 2

***While on a case, Dean and Sam meet a beautiful woman, Ava. She makes a large impression on the brothers, and ends up convincing them to take her on the road with them. It isn’t long before the shared experience, car rides, motel rooms, and risky cases pushes Ava and Dean together in an unlikely story of love family, fate, and friendship. ***

Chapter Two- The Pastor

Ava

I didn't sleep a wink. A demon is in my town. Uncle Bobby spent my whole life deterring me away from the supernatural. "Normal people are scary enough, Ava. You don't want to get mixed up in all of this." He was right. I didn't, but I was under the impression that the life didn't come from a choice. It was a curse.

I recalled Dean Winchester walking into the bar. He was sexy, rugged, and strong. He was damaged. I could see behind his green eyes that he had been through darkness. He may still be in the darkness. Bobby didn't want me to be a part of that. I didn't want to be.

I sat on my bed with all my case information spread out in front of me.

"A fucking demon." I shook my head, and tied my hair up on top of my head.

"How are all of these people connected? Come on. Give me something. Anything." I pulled out my laptop and searched for any connection.

The clicks of the keys on my keyboard were almost mesmerizing. I scrolled through their different social media trying to find any kind of connection. Bingo. I thought as I clicked to enlarge a photo from about ten years ago. It had the four families huddled together with the caption: Wednesday night bible study with the family!

It's always a church, isn't it? I shook my head and jotted down the name of the church. I knew where I was headed in the morning. I glanced at my bedside clock. It was already almost seven am. I guess I know where I am headed now. I stood up and stretched. I started a pot of much needed coffee and started my shower.

The hot water rolled off my skin and Deans smirk flashed back under my eyelids. I shook my head, and applied my shampoo. No way, lady. He is trouble. He has those heartbreak eyes. I ran my face under the hot water. And those bed breaking hips. I reached for the knob and turned the water to ice cold. Get it together.

——————

I wore my black knee high boots over black jeans, and a green sweater. A cream scarf and black leather jacket pulled together my winter attire. The day was cold, the sky dark and threatening. It was going to snow. I could feel it in my bones.

I pulled out my phone and glanced at it, half expecting to see a message from Dean. Nothing. I slid it back into my jacket pocket and made my way into church.

The pastor was at the alter practicing his sermon. He looked young, and handsome. Maybe twenty four years old.

"Mary and Jospeh traveled long and hard. She was pregnant, and cast out. We have all heard the story a million times, but yet we still continue to cast out others in her situation. I challenge you this Christmas to choose acceptance, and choose love."

"That was beautiful." I said to announce myself.

"Detective, it's nice to see you in church."

"I'm very busy." I said with a million dollar smile.

"God understands."

"Hm." I said with a smile.

"Are you here today on personal or business?"

"Business, unfortunately." We met half way down the aisle. I felt itchy in the holy building. I pulled the images of the dead church goers out of my jacket. "Do you recognize these three?" I pointed to the deceased.

He eyed the images and shook his head. "Not them, but this is me." He said pointing to a fourteen year old child.

I swallowed hard. "Can you tell me anything about the group?"

He shrugged, holding the printed image. "It was a bible study. We did it at a local coffee shop."

"Do you remember talking to anyone odd? Having anyone offer you something?"

He narrowed his eyes a bit. "Why does this image matter, Detective? This was a long time ago."

"Have you been reading the news, Pastor?" I asked, taking the image from him. "People from your bible study are dying."

It looked like the wind had been knocked out of him. "That's tragic. How?"

"We don't know yet. This group is the only connection we have." I narrowed my eyes at him. He seemed suspicious.

"I wasn't God fearing then. I put a lot behind me from that time, so I don't remember much." His voice softened, and he put his hands in his pants pockets. "I remember speaking with a young woman. She was beautiful. She explained the love of God to me. She told me that she could give me the faith I need."

My stomach dropped. "In exchange for what?"

"She just said that she will come to me when I'm an adult, and I can repay her."

I felt sick. Light headed. The pastor sold his soul for some fucking faith.

"It's all I wanted." He explained. "To have the faith my family had. To fit in. To believe."

I shook my head. "Pastor I have some bad news for you."

The doors to the church flew open and the pastor, and I turned to face the Winchester boys strolling into the church. I grinned when Dean looked at me surprised. "Hey, Pumpkin." I called to him. "A little late to the draw?"

The man with him, who I could only assume was Sam, laughed.

"Can we talk?" Dean asked, eyeing the startled man next to me.

"Pastor, do you mind waiting just a moment?"

He glanced between us. "Yes, of course."

We made our way into the lobby. "He's the fourth victim. At least. There may be more." I said with a hushed tone.

"She's fast." Sam said.

"This is my job." I said with a shrug.

Dean met my eyes. "The pastor sold his soul to the devil. Damn there's a joke in there somewhere."

The corner of my mouth twitched, trying to smile. "What do we do?"

"First things first." Sam said, reaching out a hand. "I'm Sam."

"I know. I'm Ava."

"I know." He grinned.

I smiled back at him. He was tall, with shaggy hair. I could see the family resemblance in his green eyes, and rugged flannel.

Dean shifted uncomfortably. "Well now that everyone's introduced do you think we can make a plan?"

"The demons shouldn't be able to get into the church, but I'm not too sure about the hell hounds. We have some herbs we can put at the entrances. To try to keep them at bay. Our best bet, though, is to kill the demon that has his contract."

I looked between the two brothers. They were both handsome, and strong. I felt safe with them. "Yeah, okay. Do it. I'll talk to the pastor. Break the news."

"Sammy." Dean said, making eye contact with his brother. "Someone needs to find the others in this picture. We need to know if they made a deal too."

Sam nodded. "Do you got this?"

Dean nodded. "I think I can handle it."

Sam pushed back out the door to go contact the other people from the Bible study.

The idea of even being remotely alone with Dean made a chill run up my spine. I could still see his lips on his beer bottle. I pinched my arm to break the fantasy that was growing in my head.

"Scared you're dreaming? Sorry sweetheart, but I think you're wide awake. It's not too late to scoot, though."

"I'm not going anywhere, Dean."

He seemed to look past me. "Fuck, well, we may be."

"What do you mean?"

He pointed past me, causing me to turn. The church was empty, and the back door was ajar. "Mr Church is gone."

Sam had taken Deans Impala so he was stuck driving around town in my car. He held the flash light out the window. "I don't get it. Does he not want to be saved?"

"He's probably scared." I admitted.

We had been driving for an hour with no avail.

"Dean?" I asked him, as I slowed to stop at the stop sign.

"Huh?"

"What if we just summon it? We need to kill it, right? To release him from the contract?"

Deans eyebrows raised. "You want to summon the thing?"

"Why not? Maybe we can trap it." I put the car in park so I could turn fully towards him. "It's a good plan."

"I'm not using you as bait."

"Why? I can hold my own."

"You're Bobby's niece."

"I'm 25 years old." I argued. "Who I'm related to is a moot point."

"Not for me." He shook his head. "Bobby is family. I won't let family die."

I chewed the inside of my cheek. "Do you have any better ideas? From what I've heard from Bobby, Dean, you Winchester's are infamous to the demons. If they see you they'll smell a trap. Won't they?"

He looked down, like he was considering it.

I reached out, I could help it, and I took his hand. "You and Sam will be there. Come on. The pastor just wanted some hope. He shouldn't have to die for wanting some hope."

Dean looked up and met me with soft, understanding eyes. "I don't like it."

"I know."

"You can't tell Bobby."

"I won't."

"You can't get hurt."

"You won't let that happen."

He nodded. "Fuck it. Okay."

We made our way to the coffee shop that sat on the outskirts of town. Right at a cross road. "Kind of a sketchy place to have church group."

"I'll say." I agreed, zipping my coat up. I felt a chill that went to my bones. There was darkness here.

Dean was painting a devils trap on the roof of a gazebo, when he noticed my chill. "Ava, are you sure you want to do this? We can always abort."

I met his eyes in the darkness. "I'm sure."

He nodded, trusting me. Sam arrived, and we finished prepping. The boys hid, and I buried my box in the dirt. I took a few deep breaths and closed my eyes, chanting the words that Sam had taught me.

"You called?" I turned to find a woman, bare foot even though it was 25 degrees outside. She was wearing all white.

I swallowed hard. "I want to climb the ranks. I'm a detective, but I need more. Special services, FBI... I want to be a success." I hoped I was selling it, because fuck I was terrified.

She walked around me, trailing her finger along my shoulders. "I can do that." She purred.

I followed her with my eyes as she circled me like a hungry shark. "You'll have to give me something, though, in return."

"And I get 10 years?"

"So you know the drill." She grinned widely.

I nodded. "Yes." I looked around. "Can we go somewhere a little more private to discuss? It's not too busy here, but I don't feel comfortable standing in the road." I gestured toward the gazebo.

She nodded and followed me under the gazebo. I walked right past the devils trap. Dean left about a foot on all sides so I could slip out the edge of the gazebo when she was trapped.

She walked right into it. Score. "Let's make this official." She stepped toward me.

"As much as I like to see two girls kiss," Dean began as he stepped out of the shadows with a gun in his hand. "It'd be way more fun to just gank you."

The demons eyes turned black as she turned to Dean. "Dean Winchester. I should've known." She turned to me. "It isn't nice to trick people, Ava."

"Ava get out of there." Dean instructed sternly.

I backed out of the gazebo, and I stood next to Dean. I felt stronger when we were next to each other.

"Now where is the littlest Winchester?" She circled around eyeing for Sam.

"Do you own Pastor James's contract?"

The demon grinned back at me darkly. "Wouldn't you like to know, bitch." The creature snarled.

My distraction worked, because Sam was behind her in an instant. He pressed the gun to the back of her head and he began to chant the words for an exorcism. She thrashed and screamed out. He finished the chant and her. Mouth opened, smoke rushing out and going straight back to hell. Her human body crashed to the ground. She was already dead.

The three of us looked to each other. "That seemed too easy."

"Tell me about it." Dean said. He looked from the dead girl, to Sam, and then lingered on me. "I need a damn drink."

I looked at my watch. "Why don't you two come by my house around dinner time?" I smiled softly meeting Deans eyes. "I just realized that it's Christmas Eve."

Dean smiled at me. "Yeah, I think that'd be nice."

———————

I parted ways with the Winchester's, only to meet up with them in a few hours. I went back to my one bedroom apartment. My sad excuse for a Christmas tree, and my picture frames that still held the faces that they came with instead of pictures of my family that I don't have. My case files were littered all over the apartment. I scooped them up and tossed them in my desk drawer. The soup was bubbling on the stove as I changed out of my clothes I had worn all day into a black, long sleeved dress. It was simple, and comfortable. Part of me wanted to look pretty.

I heard the door opened with a creak. "Sam, Dean? Is that you?" I asked as I sat down my red lipstick. You two are early!" I walked into the living room to see a strange man standing in my doorway. "Excuse me, what are you doing in my house?" I asked, eyeing the room for my gun.

"You killed someone important to me today." I watched the mans eyes turn black. "And you're going to pay."

———————————————————————————————————-

Chapter Three- Pain

Get caught up!

#The Look in Her Eyes #Supernatural #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #DeanxOC #Fanfiction #Bobby Singer #OTP #mine

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