#comfort & ploy

[evedaser]

rewatching merlin is so wild because 80% of your thoughts will be comprised by one of the following:

"holy shit how did no one figure it out they're so unsubtle"

"HE JUST DID MAGIC IN FULL VIEW SURROUNDED BY CAMELOT SOLDIERS AND NO ONE SAID ANYTHING"

"... pretty..." (drooling, regardless of the character's moral alignment)

"wait... THAT'S what worked!!!???"

"you can't seriously have just said that"

"and you expect me to believe they aren't gay"

[jrueships]

I WANT WRITING PROOOOMPTSSSSSS

[dispotatorulzz]

Cat snoring on me so loud making it hard to be upset

[florallychaotic]

The vintage fashion youtubers who make video essays every time an actress is like "Oh yeah my corset was uncomfortable" need to shut the fuck up until they've spent ten hours a day on a chaotic film set in a corset that may or may not fit correctly like jesus fucking christ they're not "spreading misinformation" they're talking about their own experience wearing a corset, which was very different from your's, thus leading to a different reaction.

[saiacross]

Bonds Unveiled

Supernatural FanFic: 10,865 Words: Series: Reader-Insert Note: I Changed the format of the story from Saia to Y/N for readers but you can still read the original on my AO3.

Chapter 7: A Fateful Reunion

This Work is part of an overarching story that can be read as a one-shot with little overlapping information from other chapters. **Major Story Plot Chapter** ________________________ Chapter 7:

The wheels have been set in motion now as Crowley comes to collect on the debt Y/N owes him. Little does anyone know that the toll is far greater than anyone could imagine. The task? A hunter that has been causing Crowley trouble and Y/N will need to take care of him. Y/N knows there is no refusing him but what no one expected was for the target to be.... As they meet once again, centuries worth of memories and pain begin to mix with new fears and nightmares. Even Crowley didn't account for this one. ________________________ Main Story: Y/N is no ordinary Huntress and when she runs into the Winchesters her life takes a turn. As time unfolds, they get to know each other, rely on one another, and demonstrate they care for one another in their own ways. Y/N's life begins to unravel into her history, present, and what lies ahead. She faces resurfacing fears she believed she'd escaped long ago, aided by the Winchester brothers. Their journey together is one of confronting old horrors and finding newfound strength.

Y/N stirs from her sleep, her eyes fluttering open as she reaches for her phone on the nightstand. The ringing pierces through the quiet of her room, indicating an incoming call. She glances at the clock and realizes it's still early in the morning. With a groggy voice, she answers the phone, "Hello?"

“Good morning Kitten, hope you slept well.” Y/N could hear the grin in Crowley’s voice from the other side of the phone.

She clears her throat her eyes widen as she hears Crowley's voice on the other end of the line. She sits up straight in bed, fully awake now "Crowley.”

Crowley's smooth and confident tone resonates through the phone. "Yes, It's time for you to hold up your end of the bargain. I trust you remember our deal?"

Y/N takes a deep breath, her mind racing as she recalls the agreement she made with the King of Hell. "Yes, Crowley, I remember. What do you need from me?"

Crowley chuckles lightly. "Oh, it's nothing too demanding, my dear. I simply require your assistance with a small matter. Meet me in the town of Blackwood, Wisconsin. There is a pesk I need dealt with, and you Kitten are just the person for the job.”

Y/N clenches her jaw, realizing that there's no escape from fulfilling her deal. She resigns herself to the fact that she must honor her agreement with the demon. "Alright, Crowley. I'll be there."

Crowley's voice oozes with satisfaction. "Excellent. I knew I could count on you. Don't keep me waiting too long."

With that, the call ends, leaving Y/N staring at her phone, a mix of determination and unease swirling within her. She knows she must fulfill her end of the deal, but she also knows that dealing with Crowley comes with its own set of risks and consequences. She takes a moment to steel herself before getting out of bed, knowing that her journey to Blackwood, Wisconsin is about to be a long one.

Y/N, her bags packed and slung over her shoulder, stands outside her room, hesitating for a moment. She knows she needs to leave, but facing the boys after the argument in the kitchen feels daunting. With a heavy sigh, she decides to leave a note for them instead.

She grabs a pen and a piece of paper and quickly scribbles down a message. The words are concise, but she hopes they convey enough information. The note reads, "Hey guys, got a call. Heading out for a job. Call if you need me. Take care. -Y/N"

Y/N pins the note to the kitchen noticeboard, making sure it's visible to both Sam and Dean. She lingers for a moment, feeling a mix of relief and guilt. She knows it's better to communicate with them directly, but the tension from the previous day's argument still weighs heavily on her mind.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N straightens her posture and adjusts the straps of her bags. She walks toward the front door, glancing back at the bunker one last time before stepping out into the world. She knows she has a task to complete for Crowley, and while it may be dangerous, it also gives her the chance to clear her head.

As she heads towards her car, she hopes that the note will be enough to convey her intentions to the Winchesters. She knows they'll be worried, but she believes it's for the best to face this challenge alone.

Y/N continues driving along the open road, the engine of her purple Stingray Corvette purring beneath her. The song "Love is a Battlefield" by Pat Benatar fills the car, its catchy chorus echoing through the speakers. She taps her fingers on the steering wheel, lost in her thoughts.

Just as the chorus reaches its peak, her phone begins to ring, interrupting the music. Y/N glances at the screen and sees Dean's name flashing. She hesitates for a moment, debating whether to answer the call or let it go to voicemail. She knows Dean could be angry, but there's also a chance that it might be something important.

Caught in the midst of her internal dilemma, Y/N takes a bit too long to answer the call, and the ringing eventually stops. She lets out a frustrated sigh, realizing that her hesitation has only added to the tension between them. She knows that not answering will only fuel the fire of their argument from the previous day.

Y/N, contemplating whether to call Dean back, reaches to turn down the music in her car. Just as she's about to make a decision, her phone rings again. This time, Sam's name appears on the screen. With a hint of relief, she accepts the call and brings the phone to her ear.

“Hey Sam, -”

As she answers, she can already hear Dean's frustrated voice on the other end. “What the hell, you ghosting me now?”

Y/N is taken aback by his angry tone and remains silent, unsure of how to respond. But before she can say anything, Sam interjects. “Damnit Dean, give me my phone back!” The sound of wrestling and the boys cursing at one another can be heard over the phone.

Suddenly there is silence on the other end until Y/N hears Sam huff before clearing his throat. “Hey, sorry about that, Y/N.”

 "It's alright, Sam. Is everything okay?" Y/N tries to play it off like it's nothing, not wanting to cause further tension.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's okay. We just saw your note about leaving and wanted to make sure you're alright."

"Right, sorry about leaving like that, but it's nothing major. Just a small case I wanted to check out on my own."

"Y/N, you know we're here for you, right? You don't have to handle everything on your own."

"I know, but this one... I just need to handle it myself, okay? It's personal."

"Alright, if that's what you want. But at least tell me where you're going?"

"I'd rather not say, Sam. It's best if you don't know. Trust me on this."

"This is ridiculous, Sam! She's being secretive again!" Dean can be heard hollering from the background. Sam shoots him a look before turning back to the phone.

"Okay, Y/N Just... be safe, alright? If you need anything, don't hesitate to call us."

"I will, Sam. Thank you."

“Stay safe out there."

The call ends, leaving Y/N with a mix of determination and uncertainty. She knows she's keeping something from the Winchesters, but she believes it's for the best. Meanwhile, Sam and Dean exchange frustrated glances as they try to understand Y/N's decision, even if they don't fully agree with it.

After ending the call Sam turns around to face Dean who is pacing the library floor.

“Dean, did you ever go and talk to her last night?

Dean stops with his hands on his hips. “I was going to. This morning. But then she just took off.” Dean waved his hand through the air in a random direction.

Sam looks at Dean, frustration and disappointment written on his face. His nostrils flare as her breaths heavily trying to calm himself.

“What you think this is my fault?” Dean asked, feeling accused as he read his brother's expressions.

“Yes, Dean!” Sam said matter of factly with all his built-up anger.

Dean did a double take looking at Sam, surprised and unsure what to say at this point.

Y/N walked into the bustling diner in Blackwood, Wisconsin, her senses immediately filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon. She found an empty booth and took a seat, ready to make the call to Crowley and let him know she had arrived. As she reached for her phone, she heard a familiar voice next to her.

"Hello, Kitten. No need to make that call. I'm right here."

Y/N looked up, surprised to see Crowley sitting across from her in the booth, wearing his signature smirk. She couldn't help but feel a mix of annoyance and amusement at his ability to always appear when least expected.

"Crowley. Always one step ahead, aren't you?" Y/N raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed, my dear. So, no Winchester brothers in tow this time? Quite the solo act you've got going on." Crowley would lean back in the booth,

"That's right. I decided to handle this one on my own." Y/N nodded.

"Ah, the intrigue. A lover's quarrel back at the bunker, perhaps? Did you and the boys have a falling out? Have you been playing favorites? Did one get jealous?" Crowley playfully poked the bear with a smirk.

"Sometimes it's necessary to take some time apart to regroup." Y/N tried to pay no mind to how close Crowley might actually be, was Dean just jealous? Nah…. Nah.

"Ah, the delicate art of balancing multiple partners. I can understand how challenging it can be to keep everyone happy."

"Let's focus on the task at hand, Crowley. I'm here to fulfill my end of the deal, not discuss my personal life." Y/N had rolled her eyes and was ready to move on.

"As you wish, Kitten. We'll put the drama aside for now and get down to business. But I must say it is good to see you back on your feet as soon after our little rescue mission.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Y/N's eyes widen as realization dawns upon her. "You...you gave that book to Dean and Sam, didn't you? You were the one who exposed my secrets!" Y/N was yelling through her teeth to keep her voice low and not bother the others in the dinner.

 "Guilty as charged. But hear me out, Y/N. I had no choice. I needed to ensure you recovered, that you kept your end of the deal we made." Crowley spoke matter of factly.

"You had no right, Crowley.” Y/N's anger intensifies, her fists clenched in frustration.

 "I understand your anger, Y/N. But I assure you, I had no other option. Your recovery is vital, and I needed to make sure you didn't falter."

Y/N falls silent, her anger mingled with a sense of helplessness. She despises being a pawn in Crowley's schemes.

“What is it you want.”

“There's a man out there who has been mercilessly hunting down and killing my men. I was you to find him and put an end to it."

“Wait, the King of Hell, a Demon, wants me, a Kitsune, to go after a hunter that's targeting demons? Are you joking?" Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Do I look like I'm joking?” Crowley raised his eyebrows while slightly tilting his head up in ‘superiority’. “This isn't just any hunter. There's something different about him. He shows no mercy and strikes down anyone or anything that crosses his path, not just demons. The body count he's racked up is significantly higher than any ordinary hunter I've encountered including the Winchesters."

"Crowley going after a hunter like this, it's dangerous. I'm just one Kitsune. What makes you think I can handle this?" Y/N’s confusion turned to a mix of apprehension and concern.

"Oh, my dear Kitten, I have complete faith in your abilities that make you the ideal candidate.” Crowley has folded his hand in front of him on the table by this time. “And besides, you don’t have much of a choice. We did make a deal.” He reminds her.

Y/N takes a moment to contemplate the situation, realizing that this task is more significant than she initially thought.

“Alright, Crowley. I'll do it But I need as much information as you can provide about this hunter. Do you have a name, a picture, any idea of his whereabouts or his next move?"

 "I thought you'd never ask, my dear. Here's what I've gathered so far." Crowley leans back to reach into his pocket.

Crowley pulls out a small folder from his pocket and slides it across the table to Y/N. Y/N opens the folder and finds several photographs of his handy work, documents, and a map detailing the recent activities of the hunter; but nothing on what he looks like.

 “This is more than I expected. It looks like you've been thorough."

"Well, when it comes to protecting my interests, I leave no stone unturned. I want this hunter dealt with, Y/N, and I trust that you're the one who can get the job done."

“I have a good start with this information. I'll keep in touch." As Y/N gathers the materials and carefully tucks them away, she feels a mix of determination and apprehension. The weight of the task ahead is apparent, but she knows that with the information Crowley has provided, she has a fighting chance to bring an end to the hunter's reign of terror.

Over the next few days, Y/N throws herself into the hunt for the relentless hunter, determined to bring him down. She traverses through dark alleyways, abandoned buildings, and the seedy underbelly of various supernatural communities, following the trail of destruction he leaves behind.

Y/N seeks out demons, werewolves, and other creatures willing to share any information they have on the hunter. She uses her wit and charm to coax out even the smallest tidbits of knowledge, piecing together a clearer picture of her target.

During her relentless pursuit, Y/N's efforts are rewarded when she manages to obtain a piece of clothing stained with the hunter's blood. With this invaluable clue, she now has his scent, which she carefully preserves for tracking purposes.

Y/N employs her keen sense of smell, honed by her Kitsune abilities, to follow the faint trace of the hunter's scent. It guides her through forests, urban landscapes, and even desolate wastelands, pushing her to the limits of her physical endurance.

The journey is fraught with danger and close calls, as Y/N encounters various obstacles and confronts dangerous adversaries who try to impede her progress. However, fueled by determination and her desire to protect both innocent lives and her own, she presses on.

Y/N's focus intensifies as she zeroes in on the hunter's whereabouts. She moves with swift agility, her senses heightened, as she closes in on her prey. Each step brings her closer to the ultimate showdown, where she will face the hunter head-on.

As the days turn into nights, and the hunt reaches its climax, Y/N remains steadfast and unwavering in her pursuit.

Y/N sits in her parked car, the engine humming softly as she speaks on the phone with Sam. The town of Chancellor, South Dakota surrounds her, the quiet streets illuminated by dim streetlights. She leans back against the seat, the glow of the phone casting a faint light on her face.

“Hey Y/N, we're hanging in there. Just wanted to check in on you since we hadn’t heard from ya in a while. How's the case going?” Sam’s voice was calm and almost soothing. She hadn’t realized it but this might be the longest she had been away from the brothers since she teamed up with them.

“I'm getting close, Sam. It's been a bit tougher than expected, but I think I'm nearing the end. Sorry, it's taking longer than I thought.” Y/N's voice is filled with a mix of weariness and determination.

 “No worries. But hey be careful out there, I've heard reports of a random hunter causing havoc in different towns. People are getting killed.” The concern in Sam's voice is palpable as he expresses his worries.

 Y/N's grip tightens on the phone, her brows furrowing slightly. She knows that the dangerous hunter Sam is referring to is the same target she's been tracking. However, she chooses to keep this information to herself, not wanting to burden Sam with the specifics of her pursuit.

“I promise I'm being careful.” Her voice carries a sense of confidence, although a hint of fatigue lingers beneath the surface.

“Alright well you know if you need backup or anything, just let us know.” Sam's concern persists, his words filled with genuine care for Y/N's well-being.

“Will do. Talk to you soon.” The call ends, and Y/N sits in her car, the weight of her secrets and the concern from her friends lingering in the air. She takes a moment to collect herself.

“Was that Y/N on the phone?” Dean asked as he walked into the room with a sandwich in hand.

“Yeah, it was. She's still working on her case.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “How much longer is she gonna be out there?

“I'm not sure. She said she's close, but…. something didn't sound right over the phone.” Sam’s worry was evident on his face.

“Well, she's a tough one. She can handle herself.” Dean would say as he took a bit.

“Yeah, I know, but still... I can't shake this feeling. It was something in her voice.”

Dean notices Sam's worry but doesn't say anything as the two exchange a look filled with concern.

Y/N stood outside her car, dressed in her hunter attire, ready to face her target. She wore black cargo pants that were tucked into her sturdy boots, providing both mobility and protection. Her choice of clothing allowed for easy movement while still blending into the shadows. The vibrant purple halter top added a touch of her own personal style to the practical outfit.

With her weapons at the ready, Y/N meticulously checked her pistol, ensuring that it was loaded and secured in its holster on her right hip. She knew the importance of being prepared for any situation that may arise. On her left thigh, a knife holster held a sharp blade, easily accessible for close-quarters combat. Strapped to the back of her waist was her twin sai, deadly weapons that she wielded with precision and skill.

As a Kitsune, Y/N's heightened senses allowed her to be acutely aware of her surroundings. Her fox ears twitched as she listened for any signs of danger or movement, her focus honed on the task at hand. The weight of responsibility and anticipation filled the air as she took a final moment to gather herself.

Satisfied that everything was in order, Y/N closed the trunk of her car with a decisive thud. The sound echoed in the silence of the night, a symbol of her readiness and determination.

Closing the trunk of her car, Y/N's keen senses detected Castiel's presence the moment he landed nearby. She turned to find him standing there, his intense gaze fixed upon her. Y/N, unfazed by his sudden appearance, voiced the obvious question.

“Cas, what are you doing here?”

Castiel glanced around their surroundings, taking note of their location before answering. "Sam and Dean sensed something was amiss during their last conversation with you. They asked me to check on you."

Y/N, her tone firm and assertive, dismissed the idea of needing someone to watch over her. "I don't need a babysitter, Cas."

"I had no intention of revealing myself, but… something doesn't feel right here. We should leave this place immediately." Concern was routed deep in Castiel’s voice.

"I appreciate your concern, Cast, but this is where my case has led me. This is where I find my target. I can't abandon it now."

"I understand your resolve, Y/N. But please, consider the dangers. I only wish to ensure your safety."

As Y/N remained firm in her decision to stay and face the challenges ahead on her own, Castiel weighed his options. He couldn't shake the feeling of malevolence emanating from the eerie building before them. With a deep breath, he turned to Y/N, a determined look in his eyes that sent shivers down her spine.

"Y/N, I can sense something dark and malevolent within that building. I may not have all the answers, but I can't let you face this alone. Please, tell me about this case. What are you hunting?"

Y/N hesitated, her eyes locked with Castiel's intense gaze. She understood the risks of involving him, but there was an undeniable sense of concern and determination in his words.

Y/N though will stand her ground, refusing to reveal the details of her hunt to Castiel and rejecting his offer to assist her, a voice interrupted their conversation. Crowley's voice filled the air, causing both Y/N and Castiel to turn their attention towards him. Crowley's tone was filled with amusement and a hint of authority.

"Now, now, no need to get your feathers all ruffled. Y/N is just fulfilling her end of our little deal."

“You made a deal with him?” Castiel asks.

Y/N sighed, her frustration evident as she glanced between Crowley and Castiel. The situation had become more complicated than she had anticipated, knowing that Castiel would likely inform Dean and Sam about what he had discovered.

“Yes. In exchange for Crowley’s help during that Alpha Vampire situation, I made a deal with him that I would owe him a favor. I was hoping to keep Dean and Sam out of this one.” Y/N admitted.

 "Well, Kitten, that's a problem, isn't it? Seems like you've got yourself caught between an Angel and a Winchester. Quite the sticky situation."

“Enough distractions. I have a job to do.” Y/N would huff as she walked past Crowley and Castiel, her steps resolute and determined.

As Y/N ventured further into the building, her senses on high alert, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. The dimly lit corridors added to the eerie atmosphere, casting long shadows that seemed to dance in the corner of her vision. With each step, she followed her intuition and the scent that led her closer to her target

“Where are you, you son of a bitch?” She would whisper to herself. Her voice echoed through the desolate halls, the only response being the faint sound of distant dripping water. As she turned a corner, a sudden movement caught her attention, and she froze in her tracks. There, at the end of the hallway, stood a figure cloaked in darkness. The presence emanated a malevolent energy that sent shivers down Y/N's spine.

“Show yourself!” Y/N yelled as she drew her pistol and held it tightly.

The figure slowly stepped forward, revealing himself.

“Well, well, well... Look who's come to play. My little fox, all grown up.”

Y/N stood frozen in place, her entire body trembling with a mix of terror and anger. The man before her, the hunter she had been tracking, was none other than her own father. The man responsible for the unspeakable act that had forever scarred her.

“No…” Y/N whispered, her voice barely escaping her lips as she tried to comprehend the horrifying truth. Her heart pounded in her chest, threatening to burst from the overwhelming emotions coursing through her.

“I must say I am impressed you've come so far to find me. Your determination matches that of your mother's.”

His voice dripped with arrogance, relishing in the power he held over her. Memories of her mother's death flashed before Y/N's eyes, fueling a surge of anger within her.

“You…. you..” Y/N’s voice quivered with a mixture of anguish and fury. She longed to speak, to confront him, but her voice remained trapped within her dry throat.

“You know, I've searched for you all these years. Ever since that night in the forest. I heard whispers, and rumors of your betrayal. Turning your back on your own kind, aligning yourself with humans. Oh, the audacity!” His voice dripped with contempt, each word laced with a vindictive satisfaction. The darkness within him emanated, engulfing the space between them.

Y/N's heart raced as she listened to her father's twisted words. She knew he was playing a game, manipulating her emotions to draw her closer like a spider ensnaring its prey. But she couldn't ignore the truth. She had stepped into his trap, willingly walking into the lion's den.

“Ah, my sweet, frightened Y/N. Don't worry, I won't hurt you... just yet. I simply wanted to remind you of your place, of the debt you owe me. Your little adventure with the humans ends here, my dear. You belong to me, and you will come to realize that soon enough.”

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as her father drew closer, his outstretched hand inching closer to her face. But as he approached, a surge of strength coursed through her body, fueling her desperate escape. With a burst of adrenaline, Y/N sprinted towards the door, her mind focused on finding a way out.

However, as her hand gripped the door handle and she pushed with all her might, the giant metal door remained stubbornly shut, refusing to yield to her frantic attempts. Panic surged through her veins, causing her breath to catch in her throat. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she desperately scanned the room for another escape route.

Through the haze of fear and desperation, Y/N could hear her father's laughter echoing around her. It sent shivers down her spine.

“Oh, my dear Y/N, how thrilling! Just like the old days, isn't it? You run, I chase. The game is never-ending.” His voice dripped with sadistic glee, each word slicing through the air.

Feeling cornered, Y/N turned to face her father, her hands trembling as she raised her pistol and emptied her entire magazine into his chest. Each shot echoed in the room, but to her horror, her father seemed unfazed by the barrage of bullets.

“How..” Y/N's breath hitched as a mixture of disbelief and dread gripped her. She had hoped that this final act of defiance would end the nightmare, but it only seemed to fuel her father's amusement. Y/N's heart sank as she realized that her actions had only served to entertain him. Her efforts to escape and fight back felt futile in the face of his unstoppable presence.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she fled from the locked door, desperate to put as much distance as possible between herself and her sadistic father. She knew that staying in the same room with him was a death sentence, and she had to find another way out. The echoes of her father's voice reverberated through the building, taunting her, and reminding her that he was always one step behind.

As she ran, Y/N's mind raced, searching for any possible escape route. She needed to find a way to the roof or a higher floor with a fire escape, anything that would lead her to safety. Her legs propelled her up the stairs, each step bringing her closer to a potential means of escape.

Her father's menacing voice followed her, his words dripping with malevolence. He claimed that she could no longer hide from him, that he would always find her. Fear surged through her veins, but she refused to let it paralyze her. Her mother's screams echoed in her head, fueling her determination to survive.

Finally, Y/N reached a higher floor, her eyes scanning for a fire escape or any means of exit. The building seemed to hold its breath as she frantically searched for a way out, her heart pounding in her ears. Every second felt like an eternity, the weight of her father's presence pressing down on her.

Y/N's heart raced as her phone shattered the tense silence, the sound cutting through the air. Her trembling fingers fumbled to retrieve the device from her pocket, and as she glanced at the screen, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of Dean's name displayed boldly. Tears welled up in her eyes, blending with the raw emotions that coursed through her veins.

Desperate for the solace Dean's voice could provide, Y/N answered the call, pressing the phone to her ear. Before she could utter a single word, Dean's voice burst through, brimming with anger and demand.

“Why the hell are we hearing from Cas that you’re working for Crowley like some kind of dog?” But Y/N couldn't find it within herself to care about Dean's anger at that moment. His voice, even laced with frustration, was a balm to her battered soul, and it evoked a floodgate of tears that streamed down her face as she choked out his name.

“... Dean..”

The single word, spoken through trembling lips, held layers of vulnerability and a plea for comfort. Dean's keen ears picked up on the rawness in her voice, the tears that mingled with fear and desperation, causing a surge of concern and worry to replace his initial anger. His tone softened instantly, shifting from frustration to genuine concern.

"Y/N? What's wrong?" Dean's voice was now filled with worry, his protective instincts taking hold as he sensed the depth of her distress.

Sam, standing nearby, noticed the shift in Dean's voice. Concern etched across his features, mirroring the worry that had settled in Dean's eyes.

"Dean, what's happening? Is Y/N okay?" Sam stepped closer, his voice laced with concern.

Y/N's voice, laden with sorrow and fear, quivered as she whispered into the phone, tears cascading down her face. "It was a trap, Dean. He found me."

Dean's concern mingled with confusion as he urgently questioned, "Who found you, Y/N? Who's got you?"

Through choked sobs, Y/N managed to utter the name that struck fear into their hearts. "My father... I'm trapped."

Panic etched across Dean's face, his mind racing with the gravity of the situation. With conviction in his voice, he reassured Y/N, "Hold on, Y/N. We're coming for you. Sam and I are on our way. It's going to be okay, I promise."

Desperation echoed in Y/N's voice as she uttered Dean's name once more, her words filled with an unspoken plea for rescue. But before she could say anything further, the cell phone signal abruptly vanished, leaving them with dead phones in their hands.

Turning to face Sam, Dean's expression hardened with determination. "We need to get to her, Sam. Now."

Sam nodded in agreement, the urgency reflected in his eyes. Both brothers turned to Castiel, who had silently observed the conversation unfold. Sam's voice was resolute as he addressed the angel. "Cas, we're taking us to Y/N right now. We can't waste any more time."

Castiel nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation.

As Y/N's phone went dead, the ominous sound of footsteps reverberated through the dimly lit halls. Panic surged through her veins, urging her to find a means of defense. Frantically scanning her surroundings, she realized she was standing in a break room, equipped with a small kitchenette.

A nagging thought crept into her mind: What if her father was not acting alone? What if he was possessed by a demon, rendering him immune to her earlier shots? The uncertainty only heightened her fear, intensifying her need to take precautions.

Her eyes darted towards the cabinets, desperately seeking something that could aid her in this perilous situation. Relief washed over her when she spotted a container of salt tucked away in one of the cabinets. With a silent prayer, Y/N grabbed the salt, her mind racing with the possibilities.

Hastily, Y/N retreated into the darkness of the break room, concealing herself from sight. Her heart pounded in her chest as she clutched the container of salt, her knuckles turning white from the grip. Every nerve in her body was on high alert, waiting for her father's approach.

Time seemed to stretch as Y/N crouched in the shadows, her senses heightened to detect even the slightest movement. She knew that her next move could determine her survival, and she steeled herself for the impending confrontation.

Y/N's grip tightened on the canister of salt as she unsheathed her knife, her movements fueled by a mix of adrenaline and determination. Her heightened senses honed in on the approaching footsteps, growing louder and more menacing with each passing second.

As the figure's shadow loomed before her, Y/N's muscles tensed, ready to strike. In one swift motion, she burst out of the darkness, unleashing a spray of salt directly into the man's face. Blinded and disoriented, he staggered backward, desperately trying to clear his burning eyes.

Taking advantage of the man's vulnerable state, Y/N charged forward, delivering a powerful shoulder check that sent him crashing to the ground. With her heart pounding in her chest, she swiftly drove her blade through his shoulder, eliciting a pained grunt from her assailant.

Seizing the moment, Y/N's voice rang out, her words laced with the ancient incantation of a demon exorcism. The air crackled with energy as she chanted, her voice unwavering. Black smoke billowed forth from the man's mouth, twisting and contorting before flying into the air.

As the smoke dissipated, Y/N stood there, breathing heavily, her gaze fixed upon the fallen man. Her eyes widened with realization and disbelief; it wasn't her father lying before her. The weight of her actions settled upon her, a mix of relief and confusion flooding her mind.

As the realization sank in, Y/N's mind raced with a whirlwind of fear and panic. Questions flooded her thoughts, amplifying her unease. How many more demons were involved? Where was her father now? And perhaps most concerning of all, how would Dean and Sam walk into this treacherous situation unaware of the impending danger?

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she grappled with the weight of her newfound knowledge. The gravity of the situation hung heavily in the air, the silence punctuated only by the sound of her own rapid breaths. She realized that time was of the essence, and she needed to act swiftly to protect those she cared about.

Sam, Dean, and Castiel materialized just outside the imposing building where Castiel had last seen Y/N disappear. Dean's brows furrowed in confusion as he glanced around, scanning the surroundings. His voice was laced with frustration and concern, and he turned to Castiel, demanding an explanation.

"Cas, why the hell are we outside? Why didn't you just take us straight to Y/N?"

Castiel, his expression tinged with uncertainty, met Dean's gaze and sighed softly.

"I'm not entirely sure. Something is preventing me from going directly inside. There's a powerful force at work here."

Sam, his determination overriding any concerns about Castiel's current limitations, swiftly drew his pistol from its holster. He checked the weapon, ensuring it was loaded and ready for action.

"Doesn't matter, Dean. We need to find Y/N. Let's go."

Without hesitation, Sam took the lead, striding purposefully toward the entrance of the building. Dean, his concern etched on his face, followed suit, his own pistol firmly in hand. Castiel brought up the rear, his eyes scanning their surroundings.

Sam, Dean, and Castiel stepped cautiously into the eerie stillness of the building as they scanned their surroundings for any sign of movement or potential danger. The silence hung heavy in the air, amplifying the tension that filled the space.

Dean made a swift hand gesture, signaling to Sam and Castiel that he would take one direction while they would explore another. With a shared understanding, the trio each ventured into different sections of the building.

Dean's footsteps echoed as he moved stealthily through the dimly lit corridors, his eyes darting from side to side, searching for any trace of Y/N or the presence of the demonic beings they suspected were involved. He gripped his weapon tightly, ready to defend himself or his loved ones if necessary.

Meanwhile, Sam and Castiel each proceeded through separate sets of hallways, their senses attuned to any disturbances or anomalies that might indicate the presence of their adversaries. Sam's gaze swept across every corner, his focus unwavering. Castiel's celestial awareness allowed him to perceive the subtlest disturbances.

 As they ventured deeper into the building, the tension continued to build. The ominous atmosphere seemed to close in around them, and every creak and groan of the old structure amplified their apprehension.

Y/N, breathing heavily and adrenaline coursing through her veins, straddled the motionless body of the demon she had just vanquished. Her eyes scanned the room, assessing the aftermath of the intense battle that had unfolded. Blood stains marked the floor, evidence of the fierce combat that had taken place.

With a trembling hand, Y/N wiped away the fresh blood from her split lip, the result of a lucky hit from the fallen demon. The taste of iron lingered in her mouth, a bitter reminder of the dangers she faced. But there was no time to dwell on the pain as she knew there were more adversaries to confront.

As she stood up, her body aching from the exertion, a creaking floorboard echoed behind her. Y/N's instincts kicked in, and she swiftly turned, her senses on high alert. Her eyes locked onto the figure of another demon, a malevolent glint in its eyes.

Reacting with lightning speed, Y/N brought up one of her sai, the gleaming weapon poised to block the demon's attack. Metal clashed with metal as the demon swung a pipe at her, the resulting impact resonating through the air. The ringing sound reverberated in the confined space, a testament to the intensity of their confrontation.

Y/N's muscles strained as she pushed against the force of the demon, her determination and training driving her forward. She twisted her body, her movements fluid and calculated, aiming to disarm the demon that stood before her. The demon stumbled back a few steps, momentarily losing his balance before regaining his composure. A sinister grin spread across his face, his eyes flickering to a solid red that sent a shiver down Y/N's spine. What were Red-Eyed Demons doing here?

Before the demon could take another step towards her, three gunshots rang out, their echoes filling the air. Each bullet found its mark, striking the demon in the chest and causing him to collapse to the floor. Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, her gaze shifting to the doorway where the shots had originated.

Standing there, his pistol still raised was Sam Winchester. His eyes briefly met Y/N's, a mixture of relief and determination reflected in his gaze. At that moment, a wave of reassurance washed over Y/N's body.

Sam's eyes met Y/N's, no words were spoken. Determined and relieved, he made his way over to her, keeping a watchful eye on the fallen demon to ensure it wouldn't rise again.

Once he was close enough, Sam lowered his gun and enveloped Y/N in a tight embrace. His grip conveyed his relief, his worry, and his deep care for her well-being. As he held her, a heavy sigh escaped his lips, the weight of the situation finally sinking in.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Y/N nodded against his chest, her silent affirmation. The warmth and comfort of Sam's embrace provided a temporary respite from the fear and chaos that surrounded them.

Sam's grip loosened slightly as he pulled away, his eyes searching Y/N's face for any signs of distress. His voice was laced with regret as he apologized for letting her face this danger alone. He couldn't help but blame himself for not being there to protect her.

Y/N remained silent, her expression reflecting a mix of emotions. She understood Sam's guilt and appreciated his concern, but she couldn't find the words to console him. The weight of the situation weighed heavily on her, and self-blame consumed her thoughts.

“Come on, we’re getting you out of here.” His determination was evident, his devotion to keeping her safe unwavering.

But Y/N shook her head, a hint of resignation in her voice.

"There's no way out," she admitted. "Every door, every window... They're sealed somehow. My father has finally got me right where he wants me. God, I feel like an idiot for walking into this trap and dragging you all here."

Sam's expression softened as he put his arm around her shoulder to pull her into his side, he rubbed his hand along her arm. “We’ll find a way out.”

Sam and Y/N swiftly exited the room, their hearts racing, as they heard gunshots and the chaos unfolding below. Y/N's worry for Dean was evident in the gasp that escaped her lips, her voice filled with concern as she called out his name.

Without hesitation, the two of them sprinted towards the stairs, their urgency pushing them forward. Their minds raced with the unknown, desperate to offer their support and assistance to their brother in need. Each step felt like an eternity as they descended, their hearts pounding in their chests.

But as they reached the ground floor, an eerie silence engulfed the once tumultuous scene. The echoes of gunshots and the commotion had dissipated, leaving only an unsettling stillness behind. Sam's grip on his pistol tightened, and Y/N's sai remained at the ready, both preparing for any potential threat that lay ahead.

Moving cautiously, Sam led the way, his senses heightened and alert. Each step was calculated, and his focus honed on detecting any signs of danger. Y/N mirrored his movements, her footsteps are light and deliberate, her eyes scanning the area for any subtle movement or indication of their enemy's presence.

Sam's instincts guided him toward the source of the gunshots, leading them through a maze of hallways and corridors. The air grew heavy with anticipation, both Sam and Y/N preparing themselves for what lay ahead.

Finally, they arrived at the source of the disturbance, their eyes widening as they took in the scene before them. The room was empty, devoid of any immediate threat or signs of a struggle. Confusion marred their expressions as they exchanged a quick glance, uncertainty clouding their thoughts.

Sam and Y/N cautiously surveyed the seemingly empty and pitch-black room, their senses on high alert. Their eyes strained to penetrate the darkness, searching for any signs of movement or threat. Suddenly, the overhead lights flickered to life, illuminating the room and revealing Y/N's father standing in the center, seemingly alone.

As the figure of her father stood before them, a mixture of emotions surged through Y/N. Fear, anger, and deep-rooted pain intermingled, causing her heart to race and her hands to tremble. Sam instinctively raised his pistol, ready to defend them against this formidable foe.

But in a chilling display, one by one, several other demons materialized beside Y/N's father, surrounding him in a sinister formation. The room was now filled with a nefarious presence, their eyes glinting with malice, and a twisted grin etched upon her father's face.

Y/N's heart sank, panic gripping her once again as began to recognize more and more of the demons who appeared, their faces unchanged since she last seen them all. Her nightmares had come to life, her greatest fears personified before her very eyes. The presence of these demons, these men only added to the overwhelming sense of dread that enveloped her. Then she watched all their eyes flicker to solid red.

Her father's voice filled the room, dripping with a sickening satisfaction.

"Thank you all for joining us," he proclaimed, his voice laced with malevolence. Y/N's blood ran cold, her mind racing to comprehend the magnitude of the threat they now faced.

Sam's grip tightened on his pistol, determination burning in his eyes. He refused to let fear to overpower them, his focus unwavering as he aimed at Y/N's father. "We won't let you hurt her," he declared, his voice steady despite the tension in the air.

Y/N's father, the source of their torment, chuckled mockingly, relishing in the power he held over them. He turned his gaze towards Sam, his eyes gleaming with a twisted sense of knowledge.

"Oh, Sam Winchester, I am well aware of who you and your brother are," Y/N's father taunted, his voice dripping with contempt. "Your arrival was sooner than I expected, but fear not, I always have a contingency plan."

With a snap of his fingers, another demon materialized by his side, holding a knife perilously close to Dean's throat. Sam's heart pounded in his chest as he watched the dire situation unfold before him. He called out to his brother, shock, and concern lacing his voice.

"Dean!" Sam's voice trembled with a mix of fear and anger.

"Got a little jumped, Sammy. But I'm fine, just a scratch." Dean, his face a mix of apology and determination.

As Y/N's wide, terrified eyes locked with Dean's, a rush of memories flooded her mind. The potential scene of Dean's life being snuffed out before her eyes played like a haunting replay of the past, triggering an overwhelming surge of fear and anguish within her. It was reminiscent of the night her mother had been taken from her, the same person responsible for both tragedies.Y/N's body trembled uncontrollably, she couldn't bear the thought of losing another person she held dear, especially in such a cruel and familiar manner.

Dean, perceptive as ever, caught a glimpse of the sheer terror reflected in Y/N's eyes. He knew all too well the trauma she had endured, as he and Sam had witnessed her mother's tragic death when they fought against the Soulweaver. Dean's smile, once a mask to protect her, wavered for a moment as he sensed the depth of her distress.

Y/N's vulnerability was laid bare before him, and he couldn't ignore the pain etched on her face. He understood the magnitude of her fear, knowing that the memories and emotions tied to her mother's death had resurfaced. At that moment, Dean realized that his attempt to downplay the situation wouldn't be enough to ease her anxiety.

“Hey, Y/N.” Dean tried to get her attention to focus, though when he spoke the demon holding him jerked Dean back and pressed the knife slightly harder into his throat. Dean didn’t care though. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Hearing Dean's attempt to comfort Y/N only fueled her father's amusement. His chilling chuckle echoed through the room, taunting them all. Y/N's father took a step closer, relishing in the fear he instilled within his daughter.

"You know, Y/N," he began, his voice dripping with sinister delight, "your mother once said something quite similar." The memories of her mother's words haunted Y/N, intensifying the gravity of the situation.

Y/N's father's voice grew more commanding as he made his offer. "All I want is you, Y/N. Join me willingly, and the Winchesters can walk out of here unharmed. It's that simple."

Dean, unable to contain his anger, shouted in defiance from his restraints. "Bullshit! We're not leaving without her."

Sam, his brow furrowed with determination, directed his attention to Y/N's father. "What do you want with her?" he demanded, his voice firm and unwavering.

Y/N's father's eyes glinted with a mix of malevolence and something else, something Sam couldn't quite discern. He studied Y/N with a possessive gaze before finally answering. "She's special, Samuel. Special in ways you can't even fathom. I have plans for her. Plans that involve unlocking her true potential."

Y/N's heart felt heavy as she made her decision, torn between the conflicting emotions pulling her in different directions. Her gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet Dean's eyes. This moment shattered the stare they held since Dean first appeared in the room.

"No!" Dean's voice rang out with anguish and disbelief, his heart breaking at the sight before him. He couldn't bear to see Y/N surrender to her father, to give herself up for their safety.

Y/N dropped her weapons with a heavy thud, the sound echoing through the room as her resolve wavered. She sank to her knees in submission to her father's demands, her heart aching.

Sam, his mind struggling to process the situation unfolding before him, stared in disbelief. He couldn't comprehend Y/N's decision at first, but when the realization struck, he stepped forward, determined to intervene. His hand reached out to grasp Y/N's arm, to pull her back to her feet.

But before Sam could reach her, Y/N's father waved his hand with a flick of his wrist. An unseen force sent Sam hurtling through the air, crashing into the nearest wall before landing on the ground, momentarily stunned.

“Sam!” Dean's voice shook with concern as he called out to his brother, his rage for both Sam and Y/N’s safety consuming him.

“Well done, my dear. You've made the right choice.” Y/N's father chuckled with twisted satisfaction, admiring his daughter's compliance. He flicked his hand, signaling his demonic minions to take action. Two demons materialized behind Y/N, their presence chilling and menacing. One demon gripped her shoulders tightly, while the other approached with a large shackle adorned with symbols to seal her abilities.

The demon fastened the shackle around Y/N's neck, the chain leading from it to his hand for control. As the weight of the shackles settled upon her.

“Now then. Since you’ve been such a good girl, I will let you in on a little secret. I’m not really your father.” A malevolent grin spread across his face.

Y/N's eyes remain fixed on the ground, her expression unreadable. Meanwhile, Dean and Sam exchange bewildered glances, their confusion growing.

“Alright, enough with the games! If you're not her father, then who the hell are you?” Dean angrily demanded answers.

“Ah, Dean Winchester, always so impatient. Well, you see. Long ago, Y/N's mother, in her true form, descended upon our world disguised as a beautiful woman. She sought refuge in my village, and I offered her shelter and protection. It was love at first sight between us.” The man smirked as he spoke.

“Ah yes, love. We shared a connection, a bond. But little did I know, she was already with child when she arrived. She convinced me that the child was mine, and I was ecstatic about becoming a father. However, when the child was born, it became evident that she was not human.” His voice became more and more bitter as he spoke before it turned into complete angry dripping with betrayal. “The monster deceived me, lied to me about the true nature of her existence and our child's. I couldn't bear to let that treacherous bloodline continue. Their existence had to come to an end.”

Silence hangs heavy in the room as the truth sinks in. Y/N's father stands there, his expression filled with a twisted sense of satisfaction and vindication, while Dean's fury intensifies.

“Oh, but hunting Y/N and her mother was a delight! A thrilling chase that lasted for years.  We all relish in the hunt much more than you can imagine.” He gestures towards the demons in the room.

“What did they do to deserve this?” Sam asked as he picked himself up off the ground, his non-dominant arm wrapping around himself as pain shot through his side.

 “Deserve? My dear boy, their very presence taints this world. They are abominations, creatures that shouldn't exist.” The man laughed.

“Open your eyes! You're so blinded by your hate that you can't see you're doing their bidding. You're working for the very creatures you want to kill!” Dean yelled at the man.

With a wide grin the man looked to Dean. “Oh, Dean, you always were a sharp one. But let me correct you. I don't work for them; they work for me.” His eyes then became solid yellow.

Sam's expression hardened as he processed the man's twisted revelation. His eyes narrowed, filled with a mix of anger and determination. "You made a deal with….," Sam stated, his voice laced with contempt. "You think you're some righteous judge, but you're nothing more than a pawn in their game."

The man chuckled, his yellow eyes gleaming with malevolence. "You can't comprehend the power I possess now. I am the judge, the executioner, and the savior of this world."

Dean's voice dripped with disdain as he shot back, "You're just a monster hiding behind excuses. Killing innocent people doesn't make you righteous. It makes you a coward."

The man's face contorted with rage, his voice rising. "I am no coward! I am the instrument of justice, delivering punishment to those who deserve it."

Suddenly the demon holding Dean let out a blood-curdling scream, his body convulsing as flashes of blinding light burst from his eyes and mouth. As the light faded, the demon's lifeless body crumpled to the ground, revealing Castiel standing behind him, his angel blade in hand.

With a determined look in his eyes, Dean swiftly reached for his Angel blade, its cool touch reassuring in his grip. He lunged forward, driving the blade deep into Y/N's father's chest, the sharp steel piercing through flesh and bone.

"You think you're doing some righteous cleansing?" Dean's voice resonated with a mix of anger and conviction. "You're just a monster, no different than the ones we've hunted and killed. And we're gonna put an end to your reign."

 However, Y/N's father simply grinned in response, seemingly unfazed by Dean's attack. It sent a shiver down Dean's spine, a cold realization creeping in. Something was terribly wrong. Suddenly, Dean felt an intense force grab hold of him, his shirt tightening around his chest. Helplessly, he was lifted off the ground, his body suspended in mid-air.

Dean's eyes widened with both surprise and alarm as he was swiftly hurled across the room, crashing into the wall beside Sam. The impact rattled his bones, leaving him momentarily winded and disoriented.

Sam rushed to Dean's side, concern etched on his face. "Dean, are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with urgency.

Dean groaned, pushing himself up from the floor. "Yeah, just a little bruised," he replied, his voice strained but determined.

Castiel swung his blade towards the man, aiming to sever his head from his body and put an end to his vile reign. But as the blade descended, the room was filled with a chilling silence. Castiel's movements abruptly halted, frozen in place by a simple raise of the man’s hand.

A wicked grin spread across the man's face, his voice dripping with a dark amusement. "You must have forgotten who I am," he taunted, his tone filled with arrogance. "I am a child of Lilith herself!"

The room now stood divided, Sam and Dean on one side, their eyes filled with determination and concern for Y/N, who remained kneeling on the ground in chains, caught between the clashing forces. On the other side stood Y/N's father, surrounded by his demonic companions, reveling in his power.

Amidst the echoing laughter of Y/N's father, a chilling sound cuts through the air like wolves in the distance. First one, then two, the howls grow louder, their mournful cries carried by the wind piercing the darkness. The intensity of the howls grows as more join in, creating a haunting chorus that sends shivers down the spines of all present.

Dean breaks the silence, his voice laced with a mix of dread and disdain. "Sam, tell me we're not hearing what I think we're hearing."

Sam's face tenses, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger. With a nod, he confirms Dean's suspicion. "Yeah, Dean. Those are Hellhounds.”

“I hate Hellhounds," Dean clenches his fists, his voice filled with memories of past encounters.

As if responding to Dean's words, the windows on either side of the room exploded inward, sending glass shards flying. Though there are no visible animals, the room fills with the menacing growls and barks of the Hellhounds.

Y/N's father, once arrogant and confident, now wears a look of displeasure as he witnesses the unexpected turn of events. The demon at his side, sensing the imminent danger, starts to retreat slowly, eyes widening in fear. The hulking forms of the Hellhounds were visible to only them, their fierce eyes locked onto their prey.

Snarls and growls fill the air, punctuated by the horrifying sounds of flesh being torn apart. The demons, caught off guard by the sudden onslaught, either vanish in a desperate attempt to escape or find themselves ruthlessly brought down to the floor, their bodies reduced to shreds by the relentless Hellhounds.

Sam and Dean stand at the ready, their weapons clenched tightly in their hands, their eyes scanning the room for any sign of danger, though they know they won't see it coming. However, to their surprise, they find themselves untouched by the Hellhounds' onslaught. The supernatural beasts seem to focus their attention solely on the demons, leaving Sam and Dean unharmed, yet wary.

Y/N, still in chains but unscathed, watches the chaos unfold with a mix of relief and awe. The Hellhounds, her unexpected saviors, move with precision and ferocity, targeting the demons surrounding her. The demons, once arrogant and powerful, now cower in fear as they are torn apart by the relentless hounds.

Amidst the chaos, Y/N locks eyes with her father, who wears a twisted smile of both displeasure and wicked satisfaction. His words echo in the room, promising a future encounter and a watchful eye that never sleeps. With a final glance, Y/N's father vanishes, leaving behind an eerie silence that contrasts with the lingering echoes of the Hellhounds' snarls.

The room is now filled with a sense of both relief and unease. Y/N's immediate danger has passed, thanks to the unexpected intervention of the Hellhounds. Yet, the knowledge that her father still lurks in the shadows, vowing to return, hangs heavy in the air.

The room falls into an eerie silence as the last remnants of the demonic presence dissipate, leaving only the lingering presence of the Hellhounds. Y/N remains calm in the midst of their presence.

As one of the Hellhounds approaches Y/N, its hot breath blowing loose hairs around her face, the tension in the room heightens. But instead of fear, Y/N addresses the Hellhound with a surprising familiarity.

"Hello Juliet," she says, her voice steady and without a trace of apprehension.

Sam and Dean exchange puzzled glances, their confusion evident.

“Did you say Juliet?” Sam asked the recognition dawns upon them—the name of Crowley's favorite Hellhound. The familiarity between Y/N and the Hellhound allows them to relax slightly, realizing that they may not be in immediate danger.

Dean, ever the skeptic, raises an eyebrow but keeps his guard up, remaining cautious. Castiel, observing the interaction, remains silent but maintains a watchful presence, ready to act if needed. The Hellhound, Juliet, seems to respond to Y/N's words, her demeanor softening as her menacing growls transform into a more subdued sound.

As Sam and Dean cautiously make their way toward Y/N, their attention is suddenly drawn to the sound of a creaking metal door behind them. They turn to see the massive entrance of the building swinging open, revealing Crowley, the King of Hell, standing there with his characteristic air of confidence. He casually stands in the doorway, hands nonchalantly tucked into his pockets.

“Hello, boys.” Crowley greeted. “Kitten.” He looked to Y/N with a nod.

Dean turned to Sam, motioning to him to help Y/N. Sam nodded with concern etched on his face and approached Y/N to inspect her shackles and see if he could find a way to free her. Y/N looks at Sam with a mix of gratitude and weariness.

Meanwhile, Dean strides purposefully towards Crowley, his anger palpable. He runs a hand over his face, trying to collect his thoughts before speaking. His voice is laced with frustration as he addresses Crowley. "What the hell were you thinking, Crowley?" Dean demands, his tone edged with anger. "Sending Y/N alone after that... that lunatic."

"Dean, I swear, I had no idea who that man was. I was just trying to protect my own investments and collect what Y/N owed me. It was a simple exchange of services, no foul play intended." Crowley admits in all seriousness, his face bearing a rare expression of sincerity.

Dean takes a deep breath, his anger gradually dissipating as he considers Crowley's explanation.

"Well you showed up just in time, Crowley," Dean concedes, his voice softer but still filled with underlying frustration.

As Dean and Crowley engage in conversation, Castiel quietly approaches them, a solemn expression on his face.

“That is my doing actually.” Castiel sighed.

Dean's gaze shifts to Castiel, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Cas, you? You called Crowley?" Dean asks, his voice filled with disbelief.

“Yes.” Castiel confesses, his voice carrying a hint of reluctance. Castiel meets Dean's gaze, his eyes reflecting a mix of guilt and reservation. "There are certain things I would rather not discuss, but I assure you, it was to ensure Y/N's safety."

“Yeah.. Alright.” Dean nods his head.

Sam knelt down in front of Y/N, his eyes filled with concern as he gently asked,

"Are you Alright?"

 "Yes." Y/N's voice was quiet and hoarse as she replied.

 "Alright, well  I'm going to remove the shackle around your neck.” Sam’s eyes were filled with heartbreak as he took in the sight of her.

Y/N nodded in approval. Sam carefully moved her hair aside, searching for the lock that held the shackle closed. His fingers traced the intricate mechanism as he focused on picking the lock, his movements steady and deliberate.

“Sam, I’m ready to go home.” Y/N’s voice was soft and broken as she tried to hold back tears as her stress and anxiety washed away leaving her feeling tired and drained.

“Yeah, don’t worry we’ll be home soon.” Sam looked up at her, his eyes filled with empathy.

Sam was successful in removing the shackles from Y/N's neck, carefully handling them as he set them aside. He reached out his hand, offering it to Y/N, who took it gratefully. With Sam's support, she managed to rise to her feet, her legs still shaky from the ordeal.

As Y/N stood upright, her gaze shifted to Dean and Castiel who had approached them. Her heart ached with the need to apologize to Dean for…. everything. But before she could utter a word, Dean enveloped her in a tight hug, pulling her close to him. Y/N's voice caught in her throat feeling the warmth and comfort of his presence.

Dean spoke softly, his voice filled with relief and genuine concern, "Thank God you’re alright.”.

Y/N remained in his embrace for a few more moments, finding solace and reassurance in his strong arms. With one hand, she discreetly took hold of the end of Dean's jacket and touched it, a small gesture that spoke volumes between them. Dean could feel her grip on his jacket, and at that moment, no words were needed just unspoken gratitude and reassurance.

During the six-hour drive, Y/N rode with Dean in the Impala while Sam took the wheel of her Corvette, accompanied by Castiel. The atmosphere in the car was filled with a mix of exhaustion, relief, and lingering tension. The radio softly played a familiar tune, providing a subtle backdrop to the silence that enveloped them.

Dean occasionally stole glances at Y/N, his concern evident in his eyes. He wanted to ensure she was alright, but he respected the silent agreement of just being there for each other in the quiet solitude of the car.

Entering the bunker, Sam's concern for Y/N was evident; her exhaustion palpable.

"Y/N, you've been through a lot. Why don't you go take a bath or something, try to relax, and get some rest?" Sam suggests as he genitally puts his hand on her back, rubbing it slightly.

Y/N nodded in agreement and quietly made her way toward the solitude of the living quarter.

"We need to find out more about that guy.” Sam addressed Dean as Y/N disappeared down the hallway, their eyes meeting in a shared understanding.

They both knew that the events they had just experienced had left an indelible mark. The boys make their way to the familiar confines of the bunker's library. Castiel followed closely behind.

Once settled in the library, Dean took the lead, his voice steady as he began to relay the information he had acquired from Crowley.

“Crowley had no idea. He didn't even know about his connection to Y/N or that he was a demon." Dean was pacing the library as he spoke.

“But he's not just any demon, Dean. He's a yellow eye, one of the high-ranking ones. Like Azazel."

The room fell into a momentary silence, the weight of their shared history and the menace represented by yellow-eyed demons sinking in. Sam and Dean knew all too well the havoc and sorrow that had been caused in their lives. Azazel, a yellow-eyed demon had killed their own mother.

"How is it possible that Crowley didn't know about such a high-ranking demon?" Castiel had spoken up to break the silence.

"I don't know, Cas. It's strange. Crowley seemed genuinely surprised. He said he would look into it." Dean shrugged his shoulders.

"Did you talk to Crowley about Y/N's debt?" Sam turned to look at Dean with concern.

"Yeah, I did. It's a sore spot, but her deal with Crowley is complete. He doesn't have any hold on her anymore." Dean nodded.

“What do we do now?” Castiel would ask.

“Well.” Sam would let out a heavy sigh. “Y/N is a target now so we need to keep a close eye on her and stay on guard,” Sam admitted though he knew she wouldn’t like the idea of being watched.

Castiel, Sam, and Dean exchange determined looks, ready to face the challenges ahead and uncover the secrets surrounding Y/N and the new mysterious yellow-eyed demon.

Chapter End

[hiimcanadia]

My hot take on the Recent Discourse is that I feel like even if you decide that someone's identity doesn't count as queer for whatever reason you should still like. Respect them and treat them like a person. I feel like so often when I see people saying that asexual and aromantic people aren't queer there's this sort of underlying vibe of "which is why it's okay for me to say that they're all ugly losers who nobody loves" and I just don't think that's cool, ya know? Nobody is hurting anyone by identifying as ace or aro, so why do you think it's okay to mock and bully us, regardless of whether you think we're queer?

[takecareintime]

glitchier than the app used to be. sure its a ploy to get you to pay for adds free. still feels nostalgic and comforting. theres so much I want to say, maybe some day! 

[whistler-king]

Imagine being broken up, amicable and friendly, and getting a full ass album written about you and how you’re still end game for them?

[sleepymarimo]

❝𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐮𝐩!❞

synopsis: you're tasked with waking up zoro for dinner, but it's hard to make him budge.

pairing: zoro x gn!reader cw: more tooth rotting fluff for my favorite swordsman :) wc: ~1.6k an: i had a dream about this and added some even more fluff because why not. ty all i hope you enjoy <3 also i realized i have a decent chunk of zoro fics about napping lol maybe this is why im sleepymarimo i just love that sleepy lil guy

"Where the hell is that shitty swordsman?" Sanji grumbles, cigarette hanging from his lips as he sets a hefty plate of rice on the dining table.

Even though you're acutely aware that the marimo is missing, you pretend to peer over shoulders and swivel your head to give the impression that you're just as clueless as everyone else. You're already sat at the table, utensils neatly resting beside your plate.

Everyone else is already in the dining room, Luffy practically on the brink of perishing as the food is placed before him. Chopper and Usopp are close behind, their forks glinting in the light.

Robin is patient, smiling at the sight before her, the one she's grown to love. "I believe he said something about taking a nap," she reveals, her fingers wrapping around the stem of a wine glass. "He might be holed up in the boy's room."

"You mean the men's room?" Franky speaks up in an attempt to lighten the mood, the cola bottle in his hand hissing as he pops the cap.

Nami shakes her head, not in the mood to entertain the hooligans she calls her crewmates- her family. When Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper start to chant for their food, the navigator's last straw cracks into a million pieces.

Her chair slides back with a screech as she stands, planting her hands on the table. "Ugh, I can't believe that guy, sleeping through dinner!" The sigh she gives is intentionally dramatic, her charm working its magic as Sanji quickly offers to knock some sense into the green-haired swordsman.

It all comes to a halt when a pair of hands sprout from the table, tugging at the cook's shirt in a silent command to stay put. All eyes go to Robin, her knowing gaze easily hiding whatever ploy is running through her mind.

She calls your name and you immediately feel your cheeks warm, though you still feign obliviousness even if it seems like she's peeking right into your brain.

"Why don't you get Zoro?" she suggests, yet deep down you know you don't have an option.

Even if the thought of protesting crosses your mind, the chorus of growling stomachs and pleas for you to hurry have you standing and scampering up the stairs and to the deck.

Standing in front of the door to the boy's cabin, you feel your stomach drop a bit. You're quite literally entering a tiger's den, into the willing jaws of a beast who has been known to treasure booze, swords, and naps above all else.

The air inside the room is significantly more warm, heavy, compared to the cool breeze blowing outside. It's dark, your eyes adjusting to the lack of lighting as you carefully step over shoes and dirty clothes.

For a moment the beds seem empty and you wonder if he's even inside, yet the massive figure atop one of the bunks makes you quickly reconsider that thought.

His bare back rises and falls at a leisurely pace, his arms sprawled over the sides of the bed while he lays on his front. Cheek pressed comfortably into his pillow, Zoro naps away without much care for anything else.

After gawking for a second or two, you step toward the bunk, mentally cursing, and steel yourself for what feels like the millionth time. The wooden structure is a bit too tall for you to get a look at him, so with a small grunt you step onto the bottom bunk and grip onto the rails to hoist yourself up.

As soon as you take a glimpse over the top bunk's railing, you feel the warmth of his exhales across your nose and cheeks. It makes your face warm, your own breaths stalling as you take in the sight of him looking so… serene.

His face is softened, relaxed, a stark contrast to the pinched brows and scowls he usually wears.

Imagining the exasperated faces of your hungry crewmates, you get on with your small mission. Even though you're there to wake him, you're considerate enough to keep mindful of your tone. "Zoro?" comes his name from your lips, a murmur not quite suited for waking a beast.

The most you get out of him is the slight wrinkling of his nose, like a fly had perched there for a second before buzzing off. In a way it's expected given that he's slept through storms and whole marine attacks.

Your tone is louder the next time you call his name, more firm, his silhouette becoming pronounced as your eyes adjust to the dark room. "Zoro," you call again, arms starting to ache from how you're pulling yourself up to the top bunk.

Again, nothing. It's almost comical at this point, really.

You resist the urge to groan in frustration, your options becoming more limited. Time really isn't on your side here, not when the odds of a hungry pirate barging into the room increases by the second.

Taking a big breath, you decide that this is going to be the last try. This is going to be the one to wake the marimo, whether he likes it or not.

Unfortunately, the sea has other plans for you.

The ship hits a patch of rough water, the violent movement causing you to lose your grip on the railing tethering you to the top bunk. Your breath also catches when the sudden jolt makes your feet slip off the mattress belonging to the bottom bed, your heart skipping a beat when you feel yourself starting to fall back.

You're fully prepared to brace yourself against the harsh floor, your muscles tensing and jaw tightening, but you don't even have the chance to fall back a single inch.

A strong arm, previously hanging limp over the bed, curls around your waist and holds you steady. It supports all your weight, even as your legs kick out in an attempt to find solid ground. With your face suddenly squished into the junction of his neck, your own arms act on instinct and wrap around his shoulders.

Zoro's awake now, steel-grey eye open and aware as if he hadn't been knocked out cold just seconds ago. His senses have a unique threshold, not bothering to pick up on the calls of his name but always managing to be ready when his crewmates need him most- especially you.

His skin is warm, a tell tale sign that he'd probably been napping for hours. Tightening his grip on you, he sits up, pulling you with him. You're still disoriented, wondering why you haven't hit the floor, but he's as sharp as ever.

"The hell are you doin'?" he grumbles, voice still heavy from his rest, carrying that delightful rasp. His irritated tone is a facade, more of a light chide than anything. "You tryin' t'break your neck or something?"

You feel like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing a couple times while you're still dangling from the top bunk. It's hard to not get in a few mumbled apologies, not knowing if he's ticked from being stirred from his sleep.

"Dinner is ready," you reply, managing to find your words, your hold on him not letting up due to fear of falling once more. He feels so warm, the definition of a guilty pleasure, and you're left to exert as much self-control as possible.

He lets out a scoff, amused, then grunts as he finally realizes you're still hanging over the bed. His hand moves, sliding across your waist to grab at the back of your shirt. While Zoro's strength is known throughout all the seas, it always leaves you in awe. With nothing more than a bicep curl, he hoists you up and onto the top bunk with him.

A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you sink into the soft mattress, the bunk creaking with the added weight and how Zoro shifts into a seated position. Legs crossed over one another, he stretches his arms over head, unintentionally showing off his physical prowess.

Your eyes find the ceiling out of respect, but mostly because you're another second away from bursting into flames.

He yawns, then rubs at the back of his neck. "Dinner, huh?" he repeats, finding the answer satisfactory enough and shrugging his shoulders. "They sent the right person. I don't need that shitty cook hurling a kick my way."

You nod and even get out a laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure waking up to me almost falling is a lot better," you joke, looking over the bunk to see the drop to the floor.

"It's no problem," he assures, his gold earrings catching in the slivers of moonlight entering through the window as a lazy smirk grows on his face. "I got ya."

While you'd be willing to skip dinner to stay with the swordsman, your stomach protests with a hefty grumble. Zoro's stomach follows suit, making it's need for food known. The timing of it makes another laugh slide past your lips, a sound that makes his smirk soften into something more genuine.

With a small grunt, he hops off of the top bunk and lands on the floor with a solid thud. "Alright," he starts, stretching his back out a bit more before lifting his head to meet your gaze. "Let's go eat." His arms raise, ready to help you down from the bed. Whether you want to take the ladder or propel yourself into his embrace, he silently vows to be there to offer support. Although Zoro could be stubborn, gruff, and brash, he'd never let you fall, not ever.

[theinsanityofacreative]

I want to draw more but feel like I have nothing to draw... THEREFORE!! If y'all have any requests for sketches (ie OCs, fan art, etc...) I will do little sketches of them (in my sketchbook; not digitally)

Just reblog with references and I might do it

since I'm doing this for me and only me don't be surprised or upset if I don't draw your suggestion, I probably just didn't want to :P

[jingyi-ma-boi]

Meng Yao, the raging feral ball of issues that he is, reacts by panicking a lil bit cause FUCK. What do you mean these two now know he’s pregnant? This is exactly what people have always accused him of being —a whore whose achievements are dependent on opening his legs prettily. But also, he’s pregnant??? With Lan Xichen’s pup??? The man that made him feel like he was living in pure marital bliss in the middle of war???

He’s swooning because he knows that he can’t have that child if he wants his plans to go on, but the thought of erasing the only remaining proof of what he had during those days with that perfect, heavenly alpha that treated him as if Meng Yao was the one carved out from the purest jade makes him want to rip his own scent glands off and die choking on his own blood.

Nie Mingjue is frankly very confused about the look on Meng Yao’s face because he thinks he understands the distress that his deputy is feeling but he also knows that there must be a lot he’s missing on. And the souring of Meng Yao’s scent in that moment doesn’t help his confusion and maybe his hurt too, if you want to make this 3zun with a respectfully pining Nie Mingjue which yes, it definitely is like that, please and thank you. Confusion that stops Nie Mingjue from seeing the initial shock and elation that Lan Xichen seems to be feeling at first, after reuniting with the beautiful, strong, and incredibly smart omega that managed to make the best out of the worst moments of his life. And on top of that, it turns out that this precious man that got Lan Xichen’s heart soaring and singing at his every dimpled smile is bearing his child??? He wants to kiss him and scent him so badly and go run to wherever his uncle may be to tell him that he is marrying this man.

And then, he sees A-Yao’s face. And suddenly, he feels like all of the air has been punched out his lungs and he wants to throw up. What if Meng Yao hadn’t actually wanted to share his rut with him? What if it had all been a delusion concocted by his feverish lovesick head? He smells A-Yao’s distress and feels guilty, dirty and has the sudden urge of ripping his robes off, and letting Meng Yao claw at his chest and rip it open, so that he can yank his heart and guts out of Lan Xichen as punishment for his heinous crimes.

A/b/o au in which Nie Mingjue detects a drastic change in MY's scent during the Sunshot Campaign. Such great changes in the scent of an omega are often indicative of their condition: and Meng Yao is revealed to be pregnant.

Not knowing what to do, Nie Mingjue request Lan Xichen's assistance in broaching the subject to Meng Yao. However he fails to tell Lan Xichen exactly who his omegan deputy is.

So, when Lan Xichen realizes it is Meng Yao - the omega that shared his rut with whilst hiding from the Wen- who is pregnant, the only thing he can say is "A-Yao is carrying my child ⁉️"

[helaintoloki]

May I request a five x reader where they are living domestically and just being happy and lovey dovey especially experiencing everything they did together while being in the apocalypse, the time commission, stoping the other apocalypses etc (five x Lila doesn’t exist five x Lila doesn’t exist five x Lilia doesn’t-)

a/n: this piece is basically a big fuck you to s4 so enjoy five being happy and domestic with reader and not his own brother’s wife. also five and reader are mentally older adults but physically in their twenties

warnings: language, fluff, mentions of pregnancy

summary: now that the timeline has been fixed and the world is no longer in danger, five can enjoy a peaceful life with you

The sunlight that bleeds through the curtains is almost blinding as Five begins to stir himself awake. Stretching out his limbs until he hears a satisfying pop, he lets out a sigh and moves to reach out for someone that isn’t there. Your spot in bed is still warm which means you haven’t been gone for long, but Five still rises with a sense of urgency when greeted with your absence. Call it muscle memory from dealing with multiple kidnapping ploys against you or an old habit that just won’t die off after having to remain vigilant when protecting you from the enemy, but the poor boy’s heart always skips a beat when you go missing.

He finds you in the kitchen brewing a fresh pot of coffee, your back to him as you hum along to the radio that plays on the counter and search for Five’s favorite cup in the cabinet. He has to pause and take a breath to remind himself that you’re not in danger, your life of protecting timelines and ending apocalypses is over, and the fresh start you’ve made for yourselves isn’t in any jeopardy. You’re real, you’re alive, and you’re his.

“Morning,” Five softly calls with a careful smile as he rests a hand on the small of your back and presses a tender kiss to your lips.

“Good morning,” you great cheerfully before handing him his cup of coffee. “I didn’t hear you get up. Did I wake you?”

“Not at all,” he assures you before taking a hearty gulp of the hot liquid. After years of being together you know how to make Five’s coffee just the way he likes it and could probably do so in your sleep if asked. Your thoughtfulness is just one of the many traits of yours that have him wrapped around your finger always.

“We need to go grocery shopping,” you note dutifully as you peek your head into the fridge in search of breakfast. Frowning, you announce, “We’re out of eggs, so I guess it’s frozen waffles for breakfast.”

“Why don’t we go out for breakfast today?” Five suggests with an innocent shrug.

“Really? But you hate breakfast places. They can never make your coffee right.”

“I also hate seeing you eat frozen waffles three days in a row,” he reminds you with a wry chuckle. Maneuvering you out of the way, Five closes the fridge shut and gives you a gentle nudge in the direction of your shared bedroom. “Go on, get dressed. You can wear that new dress you bought the other day.”

“You’re right!” You exclaim with an excited gasp and rush off to your room before Five can change his mind. Not that he would, of course. Five would do anything to see you happy after all the shit he’s put you through in your time together. Sometimes he still wonders why you ever agreed to marry him, perhaps a slip of sanity or lack of care for your own wellbeing, but he wasn’t one to complain. He liked living the quiet life with you, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

~~~

The night air is cool against your bare shoulders as you sit comfortably upon the porch swing and listen to the cicadas sing their evening song. The sun has long since set, but the string of lights that hang above you are enough to allow you to see the pages of your color by numbers book. Beside you, Five sits with a book in one hand while the other rests atop of your legs strewn across his lap. He enjoys sitting in the silence of your company as you remain glued together despite partaking in your own hobbies separately.

“We’ve been married for thirty years,” you state simply, breaking the silence but never once breaking your focus from your coloring book.

“Sure have,” is Five’s thoughtful reply. Setting his book aside, your husband gives your calf a gentle squeeze and turns to look at your concentrated features.

“Not including your siblings, it’s always been just us. Together in the apocalypse, partners under the Commission, husband and wife.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He asks, not quite sure what point you’re trying to make. Are you rethinking the marriage? Are you finally starting to have regrets about marrying him? He watches with bated breath as you set your materials to the side and finally meet his anxious gaze.

“I want to start a family of our own,” you finally confess, nervously fidgeting with your wedding ring as you await his response with hopeful eyes. “I don’t want it to be just us anymore.”

Sighing, Five leans his head back and shuts his eyes as he processes your request. He can’t say he’s surprised by your question; he’s noticed the way you eye babies in public, how you linger just a little too long to admire the window display of the infant clothing store at the mall, how you’ll hold the twins for hours in your arms and refuse to give them back until Diego has to physically pry them from your grasp. It’s only natural for you to feel this way, but that’s not the problem. The problem is Five isn’t exactly sure how he feels about becoming a father.

“I don’t know,” he admits carefully, taking great caution when choosing his next words so as to not upset you. “Having a kid, becoming parents… it changes everything.”

“I know we couldn’t before because there was the Commission and then the multiple apocalypses, and that’s why I never asked. But Five,” you urge gently, shifting to sit yourself up on your knees so you can reach over and take both of his hands in your own, “all of that is done with. We fixed the timeline, and all that end of the world nonsense is over with for good. No one is coming after us anymore or trying to kill me to get to you. We can properly grow old now and have a simple life together, wasn’t that always the goal?”

The boy is silent as he mulls over your speech. You’re completely right; saving the world and resetting the timeline to its proper place in order to ensure you and his siblings could have the lives you deserved was always the end goal. But after spending his entire existence trying to complete that task, he finds it hard to adjust to his new life of normalcy. Perhaps he’s not exactly scared of becoming a parent, but scared of what a baby would mean in the grand scheme of things. It would be proof that his work is truly over now, that he can turn his survival mode off after having it set to fight for so many years, and that’s a big adjustment for someone like him.

But when he looks at your hopeful gaze and sees the way you anxiously worry your lip between your teeth, he realizes that he’ll do anything to give you the happy life you deserve. He brings one of your hands to his lips and holds it tight as he murmurs his answer into the skin of your palm.

“If you think we’re ready, then I’m in.”

“You mean it?” You gasp while doing your best to withhold your excitement. Your eyes are wide and full of hope as Five lets out a soft chuckle before giving you a reassuring kiss.

“We survived the end of the world several times, how scary could raising a baby really be?”

He isn’t given an answer to his hypothetical question as you fling yourself into his arms and assault his face with multiple kisses along his skin. It’s safe to say his answer has eased your anxieties, and the boy can only laugh as you express your gratitude.

“I’m so happy you agree!” You exclaim giddily, your hands coming to rest upon his chest to ground yourself as you then suggest to Five’s surprise, “Let’s start trying tonight!”

“What?”

~~~

“That has to be the tiniest Hargreeves I’ve ever seen,” Klaus gushes adoringly as he takes in the details of the ultrasound photo in front of him. “Look at the little peanut, isn’t it precious?”

“I can’t believe Five is actually going to be a dad,” Allison notes in astonishment as the three of you turn your gaze to see him arguing with Diego over the proper way to baby proof your home while Ben eggs them on and ruins Luther’s efforts at trying to keep the peace. You’re only two months along, but Five is anxious to ensure that everything is perfect for your child’s arrival.

“You know, you might just be the first 65 year-old woman to give birth,” Klaus points out cheekily. “You should be in a world records book or something.”

“Very funny,” you retort sarcastically before taking back the ultrasound photo to hang up on the fridge. You falter for a moment when your eyes remain stuck to photo and your brain works on overdrive to commit the image to memory as best as you can.

“Everything okay?” Viktor asks after noticing the sudden change in demeanor.

“I just can’t believe this is real,” you murmur quietly, blinking back tears that threaten to spill. “After everything we’ve been through and everything we’ve lost, I guess a part of me worries that one day I’ll wake up and this will all have been a dream.”

“I know how that feels,” Allison assures you with a comforting squeeze to your shoulder. “But I promise you this isn’t a dream, and whatever you need we’ll be there.”

“Because you’re family now,” Viktor adds on with a confident nod. “And we look out for family no matter what.”

“Even though at one point in our lives we’ve all thought about killing each other,” Klaus notes humorously before giving you a tight squeeze.

“Everything okay over here?” Five asks, appearing at your side and placing a comforting hand on your back as you all turn your gazes towards the fridge and admire the newest addition to the family.

“Everything is perfect.”

[whorelaud]

reader thinks rafe cancelled their new year's plans, however, what she doesn't know is, that's the last thing he had in mind.

Despite always spending the new year’s eve with your boyfriend, the latter decided it would be a good choice to abandon the plans you thoroughly thought through halfway into your ploy, leaving you cluelessly staring into the void, as you reconsidered your whole life decisions in the middle of the diner. 

Had you known he’d cancel the dinner reservations, you would've saved yourself the embarrassment, and never showed up. It was humiliating, the smile fading off your lips the moment the receptionist informed you there was no history for the name of your reservation. He didn't even tell you, simply letting a random person at a restaurant break down the information for you. 

The drive back filled with your choked cries, mascara smudging the downside of your eye as tears welled nonstop, messing up your makeup base. You didn't even care at this point, ditching plans to hangout with his stupid friends? Mind you, ones whom he clearly stated he hated. Spending such an important day with them made you feel pathetic, like a fool, hence he knew how special this is for you.

You caught glimpse of the time upon your arrival, scoffing and kicking your shoes off when you noticed it was five till midnight, the realization that you were spending the year alone making your heart clench. You didn't need a man, you were going to order takeout, have a drink, turn on your favorite show, and waste the night away. On your own.  

Those were your plans, however, they were swiftly interrupted when you noticed the shredded confetti along with flower petals trailing a path to your room, as you followed it with haste, the said scene raising suspicions in your head. 

To your surprise, the lights suddenly turned on, as you were met with more confetti, jolting from your spot the moment it made a loud pop. You held your hand close to your heart, feeling it increase in pace as you took in your surroundings, the nicely decorated space earning a shuddered breath out of you. 

Your mouth gaped in awe, gaze eventually shifting to the person in charge of this mess, heart melting into a puddle when you caught sight of your boyfriend, grinning like a fool while he waited for a reaction, face immediately dropping when you didn't give one in response; not one that's pleasant, that's for sure. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” He questioned, halting when he walked in your direction, merely for you to step back. “Did I scare you? I’m sorry, I didn't mean to startle–” 

“You cancelled plans to do this?” You cut him off, words dripping with venom. 

“I– Do you not like it?” He hesitated to ask, lips parting with a shaky exhale. “I thought you would, I wanted it to be a surprise.” 

“This is stupid, Rafe. You should've at least told me, I wouldn't have gotten ready to humiliate myself! You call this a surprise?!” You wipe away your tears, mouth moving faster than your brain 

“I’m sorry, baby.” Rafe's voice dropped into a whisper, approaching you with haste, and cupping your face in his hands once he was within your presence. “It was selfish of me to not think it through, and not see it from your perspective. I thought it would be a nice surprise, ‘cause we always celebrate out.” 

You relaxed when Rafe embraced you in a hug, the smell of his musky cologne intoxicating your senses. He rubbed soothing circles to the blade of your shoulder, as comfortable silence heaved the chilly air. 

“Whatever,” You muffled, suppressing your smile as you sniffled, nuzzling your face in his chest. “That wasn't cool, I actually thought you were ditching me to hangout with Topper.”

“I would never,” he chuckled, the sound vibrating against your head. “I was busy preparing this for you.”

At that, your eyes roamed around the decorated room, giggling upon realizing the amount of effort he put into it. It was absolutely adorable, made your chest swell with joy, fully forgetting the reason you were upset. 

“Do you like it?��� He cooed, tilting your head with the hands around your chin. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, scrunching your nose when he captured your lips in a kiss. “I’m still mad at you.” 

“Happy new year, baby.”

a/n happy new yr's mls <3 js sum nonsense to celebrate eheh!!

[avocado-writing]

Hi Avo! Could you please consider writing a protective poly logan and wade x reader? Maybe something happens they weren’t there but when they show up deadpool is distracting/comforting the reader and logan is going ham on the enemy. ploy or separate is up to you!

Just a thought! Enjoying your work as always! ✨anon

deadpool: look how I spell it “grey” because the writer is english! Crazy logan: what?

It’s Logan who sweeps you up. You know it is, because he’s a solid wall of a man under your hands where you’ve buried into him. His chest is warm and reassuring; you focus on it, trying to ground yourself even though you can taste your pulse thrumming in terror.

“It’s okay, baby. We’ve got you,” he mutters under his breath, a growl in your ear, a tender little secret of his softness shared between the two of you. 

It had all been so sudden. You’d been taking the shortcut home after going shopping for tonight’s dinner when you’d felt someone grab you. Tomatoes had rolled across the ground, cans denting loudly as they fell, and you’d been dragged towards the back of the van as your captors loudly discussed if they had the right person. They said something about you fucking two mutants, and the bile with which they had spat it chilled you. 

You’d been certain you were going to die. Cold fear flooded you, your eyes squeezed closed tight. Please, don’t let Logan and Wade find my body. They won’t be able to take it. If these guys are gonna kill me, let me just disappear. 

Then again, that was before the claws came through the metal of the roof and all hell had broken loose. Guns went off and you screamed, unsure if they were Wade’s or not - but strong arms had picked you up and hauled you to safety. 

You feel yourself being passed to someone else, Logan pushing you into Wade’s grip and giving him strict instructions to look after you, then he’s gone. The sounds of violence continue and, without thinking, you turn to look. 

“Oh, no, honey, you don't need to see that. That’s just… plain disgusting,” says Wade, grimacing, “even looking at this mess is better than seeing what Peanut’s doing to those guys.”

Upon the word ‘mess’, he gestures to himself. Despite your heart hammering against your ribs, you reach up to press your hand against his cheek. 

“Don’t talk about yourself like that, Wade. You came to save me.”

A flit of confusion crosses his face, knocking his usual bravado. 

“You thought we’d just let them bundle you into their ‘not allowed within five hundred feet of schools’ van and disappear? Give us some credit. We’re not white knights, but we’re at least, y’know, morally grey knights.”

He says this to make you laugh, and it works. You’re distracted as the sounds of screams literally die out and Logan stalks back over. You see him removing his jacket to hide the blood on it from you. It’s still spread across his knuckles, though, a masterpiece of the revenge he just enacted. 

“Don’t worry about them. They won’t be bothering you again,” he says with an air of finality. His hand raises to cup your face, so gentle with you, such a contrast to moments before. His voice is laced with a tenderness when he asks, “you doing okay?”

You nod. Yeah. With them here, you are doing okay. 

“Thanks,” you manage, shakily, adrenaline leaving your body to give way to fat, rolling tears of relief. Not missing a beat, Wade looks Logan up and down. 

“Hey, there’s still some viscera on your shirt, Peanut. Maybe you should take that off, too?”

“Watch it, bub,” he growls, but you can tell his heart isn’t really in it. They’re both just thankful that you’re safe. 

Your heroes, both of them. Morally grey or otherwise.

[mariasont]

Ideas From a Book - A.H

a/n: im writing what i want !!!!!!!!!!!!! i have a gun kink SUE ME !!! if you don't like it don't read it !!!!!!!

anyhow HAPPY READING

masterlist

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which hotch comes home to find you reading and finds out you have a gun kink

warnings: 18+ MDNI, a lot going on here yall idk, gun going in ur vag, reader loves smut she's just like me fr, gun kink!, dirty talk, established relationship, yada yada

wc: 2.3k

When Hotch returned home from work, the ritual he had was comforting in its predictability: shedding his coat and shoes, setting down his briefcase, and locking up his gun. Then, he'd find you, as he always did, nestled into the couch, book in hand. 

It was something he could count on, as reliable as the sun rising in the morning. Your bookshelf was a spectrum of genres--science fiction, poetry, mystery, historical, fantasy--name it, you've likely read it. Among these, he had noticed a trend--your favoritism for romance. It was fitting, as you've always been an ardent believer in fairytales and happy endings. It was a belief he intended to uphold, a fairytale ending he was set on creating for you. 

The book you held today had a cover he didn't recognize. He cleared his throat, announcing his arrival. Your eyes met his in an instant, and he was struck anew by just how pretty you are. Effortlessly so. He told you as much, though you seldom accepted the compliment. 

"Hi, handsome," you said, infusing your words with honey as you folded the corner of your page and laid the book aside. Spencer would scold you for that. "How was work?"

A shrug rolled off his shoulders, fingers working to loosen the tie that felt like a noose after a long day. Stepping further into the living room, he sighed, "Heavy with paperwork."

"That's no fun," you said, lips curving into a delicate pout. 

It was an invitation he couldn't ignore. Leaning in, his hands found your face, and as your lips met, you giggled, pulling back just enough to study his face, the harsh lines under his eyes, reading the fatigue on his features like a well-thumbed novel. 

"What are you reading?" he questioned, easing down next to you, the couch dipping to his weight. 

You dodged his eyes, fingers absently fidgeting with your earlobe as you gave him a half-smile, tilting the book just enough so he couldn't catch the title.  

"Just some romance book," you admitted, with a slight uptick in your voice. "Garcia recommended it."

He regarded you with a contemplative frown. Normally, a book you would have gone on for hours, detailing every character, plot twist, and subplot, dissecting its layers and intricacies in exhaustive detail. 

Aaron watched as you placed the book on the side table, movements deliberate. You positioned yourself across his lip, a seemingly innocent distraction. It almost worked. Your soft thighs sinking into his calloused hands, as if they were crafted just for him. He recognized your ploy, though, giving your leg a squeeze a little tighter than necessary. 

You leaned in, your breath tinged with the minty traces of your afternoon tea, a detail as intimate as any secret shared between lovers. He nipped at your lip, a gentle diversion, as his hand crept towards the book.

You wriggled in his hold, vying to get there first, but he was faster. Much faster at that, although you loved to challenge him on that. He secretly loved when you did. He loved you. 

"What are you doing?" Your voice was rising in a panicked pitch. You stretched your hand out, trying to reclaim it, but he kept it just beyond reach.

Aaron's arm formed a band around you, effectively pinning your arms to your torso while you writhed within his grasp. A groan was stifled in his throat. "Quit that."

You smiled, a hint of tease in the curve of your lips and stilled. You were acutely aware of the effect you had on him, and it was a feat achieved with little effort. 

"Why are you being so secretive about this?"

He nodded to the book. The cover was unassuming, black with a smattering of designs that sprawled across it. It looked like any other book you read.

"I'm not being secretive," you insisted, deliberately avoiding his probing gaze. "You're just being nosy."

"Oh, am I?" He couldn't help but laugh, nose crinkling as he dismissed the notion with a shake of his head.

You nodded, not saying anything in response. He thumbed through the book, opening it to a random page.

"Wait--," you pleaded, but his attention was already glued to the ink. You wrapped yourself around him, your face buried in the folds of his crisp dress shirt as you murmured into the fabric, "please don't."

His arm shifted from your waist to cradle the back of your neck. "Gasping at the cool metal of the gun running across my belly, I want him press it into my panties."

Your breath caught, warmth flooding your cheeks as you pressed your face deeper into his chest. "Aaron, stop."

But he didn't, of course, he was far too intrigued.

"Parting my legs, I roll into the metal. He runs it back and forth across my pussy, wetting it against the barrel to my entrance," He continued, wetting the pad of his thumb as he turned the page, eyes meeting yours. 

He cocked an eyebrow as if waiting for your response. You didn't give him one, huffing a sigh as you plucked the book from his hands and flung it onto the cushions of the couch.

"Are you...into this?" He articulated each word with deliberate slowness, as if navigating a minefield. "This is a little intense."

You groan, tucking your chin down to your chest as you fought against the tingling sensation clawing up your spine.

"I don't know." The words tumbled out in a murmur, a feeble shield against the embarrassment flooding your senses.

It was the truth. You didn't know. Ink on a page was a far cry from reality. Nonetheless, your recent daydreams were filled with images of Aaron with his gun. God, forbid you see him on duty.

He shifted you off his lap, and you felt the corners of your mouth turn downward involuntarily. You watched his retreating figure vanish down the hall, your thoughts racing at breakneck speed, gripped by the fear that you had scared him off, that this was his tipping point.

The welling tears were poised to fall, but they paused as he came back into view. Holding his gun.

Your breath halted, a knot forming in your throat as you clumsily rose to your knees on the couch, your eyes wide and transfixed on him.

You watched, more like ogled, as he methodically removed the magazine, opening the action and ejecting the cartridges of the gun, putting the safety into place. Your throat felt dry. His advance towards you was predatory, a slow march that rekindled a well-known flutter in your stomach.

"Aaron?"

He stepped in front of you, the firearm dangling loosely at his side. You gazed up at him, peering through the shelter of your lashes.

"Do you want me to fuck you with this?"

You knew you said you didn't know if this was something you were into, yet here you were, retracting every syllable. Suddenly so incredibly turned on it almost hurt.

You nodded vigorously, your enthusiasm outpacing your self-awareness.

The look he gave you was one you recognized instantly, eliciting yet another soft pout before you gave in. "Yes, please, Aaron."

"Good girl," he said, making your heart skip a beat as he pressed the nose of the gun into your chest, forcing you backward. "Always so good for me."

You nodded again, even though there was no need to, but you weren't really focused on his words. You were focused on the gun pressing into your body, imagining it pressed against your clit, up your pussy.

"You're sure, um," you managed, trying to catch your breath, pausing in the middle of your sentence to clear your throat, "that all the safety stuff is on?"

You sounded dumb, you were aware, but all intellectual thoughts were out the window.

He let out a deep chuckle, the sound sending another wave of desire straight to your core. "Yes, baby, all of the safety stuff is on."

"Okay, good."

He pressed his lips to yours, the gun still flush against your chest, now grazing your nipple as you arched into him.

He pulled back only enough to speak into your mouth. "What's your safe word?"

"Mercy."

He hummed in response, fingers threading through your hair as he pushed the barrel of the gun down your stomach. You froze, a subtle gap forming between your lips as your eyes remained locked on the motion.

He brought his mouth to your ear, nipping at the skin lightly as he pushed the metal further down your body, lifting the hem of your shirt with it. You gasped at the feeling, pulling your bottom lip through your teeth as you tried to hide just how affected you were.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes." It was immediate. Without hesitation.

He kissed your lips, gentle and unhurried, as if he was savoring the sensation, like he thought I might crumble under too much pressure. He might be right.

"Take these off."

His gun pressed against the waistband of your shorts. You didn't waste a second, lifting your hips and shimmying out of the fabric. A sound of approval vibrated from his throat, his fingers entwining in your hair, gently drawing your face closer to his.

"Are you sure about this?"

A nod came naturally, followed by a yes breathed out like a prayer, as your eyes trailed down to in between your thighs where the gun was now sitting. 

"Aaron, I need it."

"Oh, you need it, huh?" He tsked his tongue, running the nose of the gun over your clothed heat. "I can tell."

You let out a sharp gasp, bucking your hips into the device as you met his eyes, willing him to keep going. You had never been more turned on in your life. His hand moved from your neck to the small of your waist, pinning you in place. With one hand. Fuck.

He laid the gun beside your hip on the couch in order to pull your panties off. You squirmed at the rush of cold air encompassing between your thighs. His eyes were glued to your pussy, tongue darting out to swipe across his lips.

"Christ sweetheart," he hissed, sliding one finger through your slit, showing you the moisture you had produced. "Needy girl."

"Aaron, please." You needed something inside of you.

He laughed, at your expense, but you didn't care, concentrated on his hand grabbing the Glock and repeating the action his finger just did.

You choked out a sound, stuttering against the touch. He in a merciful mood apparently, pushing the gun slowly into your sopping cunt. You were writhing against it, your mouth parted as you tried to get used to the foreign object.

"You okay?" He asked, pausing his motions, giving you a second to adjust.

You swallowed; gaze drawn down to where he was sliding the gun into you. You bit down on your lip hard enough to draw blood.

"Yes."

"You can take it," he said, but the way the firearm was stretching you made you unsure.

It wasn't the size necessarily, but the way the groves and magazine were cramming into you was making hold your breath, which him being him he noticed immediately.

His hand rested gently against the pouch of your stomach. "Breathe."

The pent-up breath escaped your lips, and he rewarded you by sinking the gun further into your pussy. You fingers wrapped around his biceps, the tips digging slightly into the constellation of freckled skin.

One final thrust and it was fully in you. You could feel every groove and contour of it, cunt clenching and unclenching at the sensation. 

"Look at you," he drawled, beginning to fuck you with it. It transcended the prose of any book, a sensation that no array of printed words could fully capture. "You like that?"

Nodding was your only recourse, mouth hanging pathetically open as you moaned and whined. You were in a daze-like state, every sound and motion involuntary.

"This is the Glock 17," he explained, thrusting the gun faster, causing you to tighten your hands around his neck, bringing him so close his words were melting into your skin. "It feeds from a staggered-column magazine that has a 17-round capacity. It sends 115 gr bullets downrange at about 1200 feet per second."

You could feel your arousal leaking to your thighs, coating his forearm in the process, but that would never stop him.

"This gun has taken the lives of nineteen unsubs."

You know this should make you coil away, that it should feel wrong somehow, but all you felt was that growing tightness in your core, your legs shaking, your chest rising and falling at a more rapid pace.

"You don't even care, do you? All you care about is getting yourself off." His chuckles wove through his words, and his motions didn't falter, intent of ushering you to your peak. "My dirty girl."

You were so close, the edges of the gun managing to hit every spot just right.

"Come on, honey."

Fuck. You let out another strangled gasp, way louder than intended as your back arched like a string of a bow, and then suddenly you released.

A prism of colors exploded behind your squeezed eyes. A collage of musical notes falling over your ears. Your whole body was being ignited as you gushed around the gun.

"Christ." His new favorite word as of late. He withdrew the weapon from you.

You let out a subdued hum, propping yourself on your elbows, your eyes lazily rising to meet his with a tender flutter.

"You're so pretty," he murmured, the compliment settling on you like dew on morning flowers. Your gaze caught the gun, now bathed in a liquid gloss, cradled in his hands.

"Oh my god," you said, hand covering your mouth.

He laughed softly, placing it on the coffee table before his lips brushed against yours, a soft and measured caress that belied his previous urgency.

"You might need a new one," you said sheepishly, heat creeping into your ears as he pressed another soft kiss to your cheek.

"Absolutely not," he murmured into your flushed skin. "It just became my gun of choice."

You were going to give him the best head of his life.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[syllikins]

"𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐑?"

❀ genre: fluff

❀ pairing: sylus x reader

❀ contains: mutual pining, sylus down bad, yucky vulnerable feelings (jk i love him so much for this reason), reader in denial (sorry guys), poorly proofread

❀ word count: 1.03k

❀ authors note: i'm taking a crack at this. but omg that scene where he tells mc there is no love purer than his after he asks if she finally realizes how he feels about her? COME ON. HOW CAN I NOT LOVE HIM?? had to write something inspired by that dialogue because it was so????? i'm definitely going to reference to some other stuff he has said in the game that made my heart flutter because?????

"there is no love purer than mine."

is a statement that has been replaying in your mind over and over again since that day.

you couldn't help but wonder if sylus lacks self awareness because how can you actually pinpoint his feelings when every conversation the two of you engage in seems like a ploy for his own entertainment.

every pointless banter. every teasing remark. every sickeningly corny nickname that unfortunately sounds like honey whenever it left his lips. maybe you ignored his childish attempts at flirting because you were too busy ignoring the ticklish feeling it gave you in your heart down to your toes.

sylus may make your eye twitch or send a small twinge in your brain with every smartass comment he feels he has to belch out: but maybe that's part of his charm. he mainly gets away with it with a face like that.

but your developing feelings for sylus was far more emotional than it was physical.

maybe it was the way he was always ready to lock in when it really came down to it.

the two of you being around each other always ended up with you or him being hurt. sometimes both. and if not either of you, chaos ensued. maybe a building was blown up instead. it was fun but it was times like those when you learned about sylus in a slightly more intimate way. it took a few deep gashes and heavy panting, near death experiences and stitches. but he needed your help. you liked that he could at least admit that. he saw you reliable enough to call on you when he was most vulnerable. and he helped you in the same way, despite protest.

he likes to hold hands. but it's not just his fingers intertwined but more like your hearts tangle more than your fingers. it was nice...he may mean it to be authoritative but there is always an underlying sense of comfort in his fingertips.

maybe he was a vampire. as you had previously joked. silver hair. red eyes. that inexplicably gorgeous face. pale skin that would automatically show any trace of lip gloss or lipstick that he would have obtained by getting a bit too close while attempting to tease you. that allure that often times makes your head go numb before you're brought back to reality by another witty comment.

you were more than enthralled by him; you realised as you laid in bed a few nights ago.

now he just makes you nervous. why would he say that?

there is no love purer than his?

and it's all for you?

it all feels like too much.

he calls and you stare at the caller ID before choosing to nervously accept the call. not before you start a petty argument.

but even among his arrogance, and the chirp in his voice when he engages with you, he's still sickening sweet. slipping in how strongly he feels about you in between every other colourful retort of yours or so. gosh. could he not?

after you pathetically stutter through a smartass comment of yours, his amused chuckle has you fighting the urge to chuck your phone. so you just hang up instead. maybe you just need to go outside. that should calm you down.

the warm yet slightly humid summer night air hugs itself against your slightly trembling form, a small fire lit in your heart as you walk down the empty sidewalk in pyjamas.

no one is around. all the stores are closed. it's just you and the street lights as you murmur about all the things you don't like about him in an attempt to kill the light in your heart, this light giving you an odd sense of pleasure. to no avail, your rambling on seems to make the light grow. and a small buzz on your leg.

in your pocket.

he's calling again.

you stare at it this time. its like you think the loving feelings pouring from your pores will tap the accept button for you. this doesn't last long before you shake your head and put the phone back in your pocket. you continue walking, eyes kept on the sidewalk as you weigh the pro's and con's of accepting such feelings.

*thud* you've hit your head on something.

the familiar scent in your nostril already tells you what- more like who it is.

it's obvious he used his evol to just appear in front of you. or else you would have seen his shadow underneath the streetlight you're under before your forehead met his chest.

the mere thought of it being him before even seeing his face is enough to get your stomach to flip, so you flip yourself in the other direction. then he wraps his hand around your wrist but he never seems to forget to add the electrifying part.

your free hand twitches as he intertwined his beautiful fingers with yours, the linking of both your pointer fingers keeping you together.

the silence among the song of cicadas makes you bite your tongue, anticipating a smart, playful retort. and yet amidst your baited breath nothing.

your heart beats in your ears as his warmth lingers on your fingertips. the two linked fingers generating the most heat.

"gosh, would you stop tormenting me already?" you whisper.

"is that what you think this is?" his voice echoing in the street.

you're both silent for a moment. yet neither of you make a motion to separate the linked fingers.

"your love...in it's purest form..."

another silence.

"it belongs to you." he finishes

you turn to him, still staring at the pavement.

"my love....." you began.

he seems to be holding his breath as you fidget in front of him. you attempt to make your slippers overlap or something to that effect as your palms get sweaty.

"is just as pure as yours." you breathe out in something like a scoff.

even now you're trying to challenge him

"and i want you to have it."

 when you utter that last bit, you look him straight in the eyes.

he exhales and accepts it with no hesitation.

in his arms, where both your hearts tangle.

© syllikins 2024