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[apocalyqsc]

“ COS ‘M JUST A TEENAGE DIRTBAG, BABY” “ SHE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT SHE’S MISSIN’ ”

90s version ! LOSER!ART. POPULAR!READER.

popular!reader often referred to as angel, but her personality isn’t so angelic. she’s often smoking, listening to music she shouldn’t—or messing around with people she shouldn’t (art). angel is rude towards art, but sweet towards her boyfriend and friends. but what does it matter. art’s lucky to even be able to touch such a wonderful thing. angel is nineteen and a first year in college. the only reason she’s so popular is due to her daddy who owns a major business. she’s always dressed nice for her daddy’s special occasions, but other than that dresses like a typical, everyday college kids. wearing tight tanktop, baggy jeans that are rolled up from the ankle, black or white converses (depending the occasions), and long white socks. angels dad can’t handle the sleezy style, but she doesn’t care. because she still gets what she wants anyways.

loser!art is only kept around whenever angel’s boyfriend on a break. he typically doodles, smokes, and is standing on no social status. he often gets high for fun, drinks a lot of pepsi product and manages to keep his hair nice. art is twenty one, and in his second year of college. he’s kept around to buy angel and her friends drinks, but as soon as her boyfriends in the area, she switches up. he petted down style in a sense. art wears a button up that stays untucked, jeans that are and aren’t baggy at the same time, and black converses with long socks rolled up. art only stays in contact with his grandma, and has a rather closed off persona. which is hence, why he’s a loser. though he has a strong passion for tennis and his best friend his patrick zweig (or so he says).

you grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, as he clinged to the window sill. “can’t stay long,” you gasped in between the kiss “‘m only staying with my daddy for a week. the. ‘m stuck with my boyfriend. ‘n my daddy’s almost home from his event.” you always had a way of making him needy for you. you knew it—everyone knew it. why did people wonder why your boyfriend kept you on a tight leash when you came back after one of your “trips.” which was one of your booty calls if anything. “i know.” art said in between breathes.

the first time you had tried anything with art—it went terribly wrong, to say the less. he was kissing up on you whenever your daddy barged in. it was imprinted in both your minds. the way art hurried his pathetic wet-hard dick back into his boxers, pulling his pants up, as you sat up, clenching the covers. to say the less, you were in trouble. so you lost your phone privileges. and yes, you were nineteen—but you were still you dads baby. art pressed a kiss against your cheek, “i’ll miss you angel.”

[apocalyqsc]

profound desire for blood ໑᱖ dean winchester

cw; vampire!dean x afab!reader — dark themes, angst (??), blood sucking, erm basically kidnapping, reader hints at stockholm syndrome, gorey themes, blood galore (obviously), pet names (sweetheart, my little star), mentions of the vampire diaries which i’m not even sure is time line accurate so stfu please (respectfully) <3

authors note; i love newly bitten vamp!dean he’s such a bloodluster and deserves all the sweet, sweet, sweet blood he can get. i’d give my blood to him by the pounds, you should 2 ! (ten out of ten, would recommend).

DEAN was just as confused as you were. but under different circumstances. yours was being chained to a wooden chair in a dusty, most likely abandoned motel, whilst dean’s daze was his bloodlust. he couldn’t help you cut your hand. not his fault at all.

he reacted in the way he thought was best. to take you to “just” wrap your hand. whose to say that’s not aloud. it was just so much blood. and dean—well dean couldn’t help himself. you have to pity him, you just have to! he’s put in all the effort to keep you safe from the scarey things (even though he was the scariest thing you were experiencing in the moment, whose to say he couldn’t be just utterly delusional about the situation.

blame it on the bloodlust, of course. he’s not really in control of his actions. so blame the bloodlust—because not even he was really in control of his actions. he didn’t asked to be turned into a vampire with no youtube step-by-confusing-step tutorial to help him. so blame youtube. totally. or google). your breathing picked up—were you dead (not quite yet)? “don’t panic yet, my little star.” a hand went to your chin, straying towards the cloth material that kept you blinded. stupid, stupid little star you were. never trust a strange man at the bar. ever.

“i know your wondering—” he slowly took off the cloth off, “why’re your here. but we can get to that later. now, i’m going to care for you.” the vampire whispered hoarsely. you kicked and started screaming, like anyone would do. your neck was sore—you were hungover and bound to a chair. you didn’t like your odds. not one single bit. they weren’t good odds. “hey, c’mon now my little star.”

you instinctively jerked your face away from his hand, your hair falling in his face. “let me go!” you voice trembled. except—your demanding plea fell deaf on his ears. you were stuck here. and the likelyhood of him killing you, well—was definitely up. you hadn’t gotten a chance to see the world yet. you needed to be alive—so you could travel and enjoy things. you thrashed your body around, in hope to escape the rope, or go loosen it, to do something to guarantee your safety.

“sweetheart.” dean said with a soft chuckle that echoed against the walls of the dense motel. “if i remember correctly—you chose to talk to me in that bar, you chose to let a handsome, if i say so myself, stranger.” he leaned down to your dried, bloodied hand, and licked it. he was a cunt sucking bastard. the smell of your sweet blood was just a testimony of your new beginning with dean. the blood that got him salivating for more.

dean straightened his posture and just stared at you. you were pure, cleaner than a water filtration system. tears that tasted like salt damped your face, and you—fuck did you want to leave. it wasn’t fair—to be held captive, when you didn’t deserve it. you just wanted to make some friends. at a bar, we’re you thought a man could actually be identified as a friend rather than a sex crazed teenager looking to hit it. accept you did find that—it was dean. he just want to suck your blood. (maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. to stay with him. to oblige his rules. to be happy with him)

he was almost taken aback from the tears. girls like you, they fought until they died. but you, you seemed to have given up. already. his hand fell away from your neck. and maybe a part of him still had that piece of humanity that he once had before he turned into a vampire. that piece he had when he vowed to himself to protect people. the one the persona of a vampire was slowly chipping away at. dean didn’t want to harm a pretty girl like you. not yet anyways.

your soft sniffles left dean at a pause. he wanted to protect you, he did. you were like a lamb. a sweet, sweet little lamb. but at the same time, he wanted to dry you of your blood like a raisin. it tore his rationality up. “look, sweetheart,” he crouched down forcing you to look at him, despite you not wanting to. “i need your blood.” (desperately). “so i can’t let you leave.” his hand cupped your chin. your breathing quickened as he pressed his nose against your neck, following not shortly after his teeth.

you bit back a scream, rolling your head up. his teeth impaled your neck, and tears spilled into uncontrollable sobs that wracked your body. you don’t know who you pissed off, but it had to be someone important. the biting turned into suckles as blood seeped out of your neck. sweet, victory filled blood. “don’t cry. it’s for a good cause.” he whispered, smoother than whiskey. your face flushed lightly. he’s a vampire. and a kidnapper. this isn’t the vampire diaries where you fall in love with the vampire but in which has proven to be entirely inaccurate. “plus, crying isn’t good for any type of plea.”

though trying to lighten the mood, it took a stark turn of making you sob more. “shut up!” you screamed, only resulting a hand over your mouth and a bang on the wall from the next door. which was almost a command to keep it down. of course it didn’t raise any concerns when someone screamed. it was a motel. what happens in a motel stays in a motel.

“my little star, that’s no way to handle the spot light.” dean teased.

[apocalyqsc]

MASTERLIST OF MASTERLISTS

01. STURNIOLO’S. 02. SUPERNATURAL. 03. MISC

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