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thedensworld · 7 months ago

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Alone at Night | K.Mg

Pairing: Mingyu x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, established relationship, short!

Summary: Mingyu has no idea until he had to sleepover in your house because of the rain. In fact, it hurts him.

In the dimly lit room, the soft patter of rain against the window was the only sound, punctuated occasionally by a distant rumble of thunder. Mingyu shifted on the couch, glancing at the clock on the wall. 2 a.m. already. He hadn't planned on staying this late, but fate, it seemed, had other ideas.

As he nestled deeper under the cozy comforter you had provided, Mingyu couldn't help but smile, reminiscing about the evening that led to this unexpected slumber party. Your movie date had been nothing short of perfect – a delicious dinner cooked by your own hands followed by a marathon of films, laughter, and the warmth of your presence beside him.

But as the clock struck midnight, Mingyu had made a mental note to leave, not wanting to overstay his welcome or make things awkward. Yet, as if the universe conspired against his plans, the rain began to pour relentlessly, trapping him in your cozy abode for the night.

"Fourth date and already a sleepover," he mused to himself, a mixture of amusement and disbelief coloring his thoughts. Mingyu couldn't deny the flutter of excitement in his chest at the thought of spending more time with you, even if it was under somewhat unconventional circumstances.

Reflecting on how he had met you through a mutual friend, Mingyu couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected turn his life had taken. Your calm demeanor and quiet energy had drawn him in from the start, and what had begun as a simple friendship had blossomed into something deeper – something he couldn't quite put into words.

And when he finally mustered the courage to confess his feelings, Mingyu had braced himself for any outcome, never daring to hope that you might feel the same way. Your stoicism had kept him guessing, but your acceptance had filled him with a warmth he had never known before.

As he drifted off to sleep, cocooned in the comfort of your home and the promise of a new day with you, Mingyu couldn't help but feel grateful for the rain that had brought him here – and for the person who had stolen his heart in the most unexpected of ways.

In the midst of his own thoughts and worries, Mingyu couldn't shake the feeling of concern gnawing at him. He knew you had been through a lot lately – the setbacks at work, the financial burdens from family, the weight of responsibilities pressing down on your shoulders. Yet, you always seemed to carry yourself with such grace and composure, never letting on just how much you were struggling.

But as he lay awake on the couch, the sound of faint sobbing drifting through the stillness of the night shattered Mingyu's facade of calm. His heart clenched with a mixture of anguish and helplessness, realizing that it was you – the person he cared for deeply – who was silently bearing the weight of your own troubles.

With cautious steps, Mingyu approached your slightly ajar door, his ears straining to catch the sound of your stifled sobs. His hand hovered over the door, torn between respecting your privacy and wanting to offer whatever comfort he could.

Inside your room, you sat on the edge of your bed, shoulders trembling as you tried to contain the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. Despite your best efforts to reassure Mingyu and everyone else that you were okay, the facade cracked in the solitude of the night, allowing the pent-up tears to finally spill over.

Mingyu's heart clenched at the sight of you on the bed, your body trembling with silent sobs. The realization that you had been crying alone, even with him just a room away, sent a pang of guilt coursing through him. What pain had you been concealing behind that stoic facade? The thought gnawed at him, filling him with a deep ache of concern for you.

Summoning his resolve, Mingyu softly knocked on your door, his hand lingering on the doorknob before gently pushing it open. The dim light of the night lamp cast a soft glow over the room as Mingyu stepped inside, his gaze drawn to your form on the bed.

"Do you need something, Mingyu?" Your voice, tinged with exhaustion and sadness, cut through the silence. You looked up at him, attempting to mask the vulnerability that lingered in your eyes, but Mingyu saw through the facade.

Without a word, he approached you, his heart heavy with the weight of your pain. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he reached out and switched on the night lamp, illuminating your tear-stained face. His hand moved to your cheek, gentle and tender as he wiped away the evidence of your tears.

In the quiet intimacy of the moment, Mingyu hummed softly, a soothing melody meant to offer comfort and solace. There were no words to express the depth of his concern for you, but in that simple gesture, he hoped you could feel his unwavering support and the love that overflowed in his heart.

"Mingyu..." Your voice quivered as you spoke his name, a mixture of relief and vulnerability laced in those two syllables.

"It's okay... You can cry..." Mingyu's voice was gentle, his words a soothing balm to your wounded soul. With a reassuring nod, he extended his hand, offering you the comfort and understanding you so desperately needed.

As you sat in front of him, the floodgates of emotion burst open, tears streaming down your cheeks unchecked. Mingyu's heart constricted at the sight of your raw pain, but he remained steadfast, his arms opening wide to envelop you in a warm embrace.

"Baby..." Mingyu's voice was tender, filled with a depth of emotion that spoke volumes. He pulled you closer, holding you tightly against his chest as you surrendered to your tears. Each sob wracked your body, but Mingyu held you with unwavering strength, his presence a beacon of solace in the darkness of your despair.

You cried harder, the weight of your burdens feeling momentarily lighter in Mingyu's embrace. His words of reassurance washed over you like a gentle wave, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the storm of your emotions.

"It's okay, you're doing great... I'm here." Mingyu's whispered words echoed in the stillness of the room, a promise of his unwavering support and unconditional love. And in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his embrace, you knew that you were not alone – that no matter how heavy the burdens you carried, Mingyu would always be there to share the load.

Wrapped in the comforting cocoon of your embrace, Mingyu held you close, his arms a steady anchor amidst the storm of your emotions. He watched as your tears gradually subsided, your breathing slowing to a steady rhythm against his chest. With tender care, he brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

"Is it always like this? Every night?" Mingyu's voice was soft, tinged with concern, as he finally broached the subject that had been weighing on his mind.

You shook your head, the remnants of sadness still lingering in your eyes. "Sometimes it just hits randomly at night. Without a reason."

"This time too?" Mingyu's question was gentle, his gaze searching yours for any sign of reassurance.

You nodded, the weight of your admission hanging heavy in the air between you. But Mingyu didn't falter – instead, he pulled you closer, his touch a silent vow of unwavering support.

His hand found yours, fingers intertwining in a comforting gesture as he spoke, his voice filled with determination. "If this happens again, later... Call me. I'll be by your side, like this."

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of Mingyu's love and the promise of his steadfast presence, you felt a glimmer of hope ignite within you. No matter how dark the night may seem, you knew that with Mingyu by your side, you would never have to face it alone.

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raindotdrop · 2 months ago

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🔞 vergil x reader | whole new breed

‧₊˚♡ summary: you were turned into a devil to save your life after a fatal attack. adapting to this new form has been okay⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯until you experience your first heat.

‧₊˚♡ word count: 2.2k

The transformation you underwent from human to devil, it was never meant to happen. You didn't know it could happen.

You were meant to die months ago, but your lover didn't allow that.

It was a brutal mission. While your fellow hunters were panicking, already grieving you⎯it took Vergil minutes to recite an ancient ritual. The man sacrificed his own flesh like it was nothing, then watched you rise from your bloody spot on the ground, ready to rejoin the fight.

He reduced fate to a joke that day, spitting into death's embrace for trying to claim you. Claiming you is his job.

Your devilish transition has been relatively easy. You look the same, sound the same, act the same. Really, the only difference is your strength. Nothing feels heavy or tiring to you anymore, nothing hurts.

 Except for one thing.

Does it hurt? You aren't sure. It's... distracting, if you had to describe it. Day by day, you've been feeling more feverish. Needy, lonely, grumpy, dripping. You've forgotten the names of everyone else in your life because Vergil is dominating your foggy thoughts.

He's been working for days straight now, leaving you to worsen in your shared bed. Normally, he answers your every demon-related question and tends to you, but he's gone.

Without him present, the mere thought of him leaves you humping whatever smells like him the most. His pillow is drenched in your fluids, his clothes held up to your nose as you orgasm.

An obscene amount of slick pours from between your legs at all times, to the point where you've ditched bottoms. Your nipples are too sensitive to be covered, too. If it's fabric and not your fingers then it hurts.

Something is definitely wrong, but you don't care about all that human side versus demon side junk. You want Vergil. You don't want this frenzy to end on its own, you want him to come home and fuck it out of you.

On his side of the bed, everything is soaked. You're pathetically attempting to finger yourself at different angles and speeds because you're praying you can replicate the way he does it. Laying flat on the sheets is how you've chased your past few highs, any other position is too much of a chore.

His scent is growing stronger, your fingers pump in and out as you're buried face down in a pair of his boxers. The musk is so powerful all of a sudden, it's as if he's there. You're cumming from the intensified smell alone, shaking harder than you have in hours. Nobody warned you about the sensitivity your senses would develop.

Before you even lift your head from the bed, you're blindly reaching out for another piece of clothing to destroy. Someone grabs your wrist before you can.

With a jolt, you look up, and none other than Vergil is looking down at you. He seems to be studying you moreso than anything else.

"So I was off. I predicted your cycle would strike next week, not now..." he muses aloud, but you barely understand him. Despite Vergil being the one to grab your wrist, you've turned the tides so you're clinging onto him instead, both hands gripping him. Almost in disbelief, as if letting go means he'll vanish.

You roll onto your back using his arm as an anchor, revealing your glistening breasts to him. You're trying to tug him down onto you to no avail, whining rather than greeting him. You blink up at him, as he observes the way you leak like a waterfall from his proximity.

"Beautiful," that word kills you inside. You keep yanking at his arm, animalistically, your demonic side obscures every single word you've learned. "I would have relieved you days ago, had I known. Well, I⎯⎯"

"Vergil!" you cry out in frustration, the only word on your tongue.

Pity flashes on his features when he sees how much discomfort you must be in. Vergil had taken up extra work so he could free up his schedule during your first heat. It pains him to see his incorrect calculations lead to this.

Of course, it makes his pants feel tight and fills him with almost as much desire as you (if that's possible), but he wishes he could have guided you through every single step with care, not be invisible while your heat worsened. You must have been so confused...

"Vergil, please!" you snap him from his thoughts. Propped up on your elbows now, your eyes are watering. Sobbing, almost, and you're sucking on his fingers.

Every cell in your body craves him so much, it feels like you're going to explode. The confusion you felt from your heat's onslaught is long gone, replaced with a 'this is so right' feeling the moment Vergil entered the room.

His wet fingers pop from your mouth and stroke your cheek, coating you in your saliva. The affection in that gesture is your saving grace, you know he's going to please you from that touch alone.

"Alright. I won't keep you waiting." he says, his tone is more gravelly now that he's fully realized what he's going to do. This was unexpected, but he isn't objecting whatsoever.

Your body is so sensitive from the amount of climaxes you've inflicted on yourself, that when Vergil begins to shrug his coat off, you can't tell if you actually just orgasmed from the sight or not. The pulses around your body intensify as he reveals his bare arms to you. Do you want to watch him strip, or are you so impatient you want him to just fucking take you already with his clothes barely hanging on? It's unclear. You begin to paw at his thighs, trying to shred the fabric off.

"Eager little thing..." he coos, swatting your hands away so he can undress with no obstacles. He's stripping faster than ever before, but to you, it feels like he's moving in slow motion. Every second that he's not inside of you feels like a thousand years of emptiness. "I'm here now, don't worry." Despite his reassurances, he's the one who's worried, hoping you aren't in any pain.

Once his cock springs out, leaking precum from the feral sight enticing him, you lunge at it. Instantly, the whole length is wrapped around your lips. You're too distracted to properly suck him off, shaky hands touching him with no rhyme or reason.

Vergil chuckles. "Now, this isn't about me," he says, knotting his fingers in your hair so he can pull your mouth off. You put up quite a fight, common sense clouded by desire. Your mouth isn't the hole that's begging for him, it's just the nearest one, so it reaches in without thinking.

"We have time for that another day." The force he had to apply, it has you tumble backwards on the bed. Gasping on your back, you're already kicking at the air, aching to be close again. Drool stains your chin because you just tasted him after imagining it for so long and your body is screaming for seconds.

You see him sitting at the foot of the bed, fully bare. The sheets beneath him are coated in your release. His precum joins the mix as he rakes over your figure, mind racing with thoughts of how he can tame you when you're like this. It's a challenge that leaves his cock straining in the air.

He sternly says your name right before you try crawling back, and you freeze.

"Lay back."

The authority in his tone gets through to you, so you rest your back on the damp pillows. It takes every ounce of self control not to clamber over to him, but you know he's a man who should be listened to.

"Good girl." You twitch. He notices. "I'll fix this. Allow me,"

Relaxing in this state is impossible, but as you lean backward, the shaking in your body eases up. He kneels in front of your quivering form, still searching for any signs of pain, knowing how long your heat was left unchecked.

Your devil side is shrieking at you to touch him, but your human side finally triumphs over it, laying back so he can ravage you. Stilling yourself, breaths steadying...

An experimental hand of Vergil's rubs at your folds and all that progress is undone. You arch into the mass of pillows behind you, whimpering out, "Vergil.. please, more..!"

"I have to see if you're ready." his stern tone remains, guiding you through this the way he always intended to.

He gathers up slick, feeling you up. Obviously, you're wet enough for him to fold you over and pound you right there, but he still has to confirm for himself. Your comfort matters so much to him, even like this. Once he realizes the extent of your wetness, the fact your pussy has been getting stuffed all day, something primal ignites within him.

"I am... please, I'm so.." your begging doesn't even make sense, but the sweet sound of it nearly has Vergil trip over his words, betraying the composed way he presents himself.

"Yes, you're ready. The things you must have done before I arrived..." he trails off, having to stop himself because that imagery is dangerous territory. "You'll have to show me, next cycle."

His toned arms position themselves near your neck, a snug embrace that you nuzzle into. He wants to hold you if he's going to ruthlessly breed you, never letting you forget how much he loves you.

If only he knew that every moment you're alive is a personal reminder of his devotion, whether he's there or not. His ritual, his sacrifice, his refusal to let you die is why you're here. His love for you transcends biology and reality itself. Human or devil, you're his.

His tip smacks at your entrance and it sends you spiralling. His eyes are fixed on your face, so it takes some positioning to find your hole. He's a demon too⎯the way your face is coated in tears, slick, plus a mixture of his spit and yours, drives him absolutely wild and he has to inhale your scent just like you did with his boxers.

"So beautiful," he echoes his previous words as he buries himself to the hilt, your walls all but absorbing him. The tears of joy that stream down your cheeks are kissed away by his busy lips. You begin to utter out a 'please', which he swallows right up. "No need to beg, I'll give you everything."

He kisses you like a man starved, fucking you hard into the mattress. His upper and lower halves work in tandem to make up for lost time, whispering praises and consuming you.

He doesn't have to hold back anymore with your newfound demonic endurance. To say he's drilling you is an understatement. Everything feels shaky but so right. The sensitivity of your heat-riddled body already has you clenching and cumming around him. Less than a minute in, and you're not ashamed. You're already trying to embrace the next one.

"Let it out," he grunts into your jaw, peppering kisses to it to mask his own sounds. He wants to focus on you, not him. Vergil tells himself you'll receive five climaxes minimum before he comes close to his, but you're making it difficult for him. "Let it all out, that's it... let me care for you, my vixen."

One arm holds you close, but the other has a more important role down at your clit. It rubs circles into the nub, and you're fluttering around his cock again. You feel his length twitch uncontrollably in response, on the verge of emptying himself inside you.

Vergil knows he can't actually impregnate you unless in his devil trigger form. He spent time researching how this moment will unfold for you.

"You'll be safe," is how he expresses this to you, unable to hold back any longer.

You're breathless when your walls are splattered with his seed. He spurts and spurts with no sign of stopping⎯your heat absolutely impacts the one you mate with, you discover.

As you're filled, he pulls himself out so the stream of cum can reach your torso as well. Your stomach leading up to your breasts is coated, then your expressive face. If a body part exists, it's marked by him. Vergil's grunts grow louder than your lustful cries for one singular second before he bites your neck to muffle them.

The fire inside of you feels quenched for a few seconds, like you can finally resume your daily life, before it snaps right back to being unbearable.

You rub yourself against Vergil's weeping cock, silently begging for another round. It's not enough. Will anything be enough? You don't see an ending to this rut, just an urgent dream of Vergil stuffing you again. His cum trickling out isn't a finality, it's lubrication for the rest of the night.

Picking up on your unrest, he repositions his hips with ease. "You and I will be here a while," there's another nip to your neck to accompany the rocking of his hips, "best to get comfortable."

#vergil x reader #dmc smut #devil may cry x reader #vergil smut #mine #AAAAAUUUHHGHH

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pink-sparkly-witch · 1 year ago

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All She Wants, Part Three (Finale)

Summary: Dean’s experience with the wrong hormone suppressants makes him feral. The only person who can get him out of it and save his life is Y/N, the omega he had been mating with for years until she left six months ago. Without a claim and with no prospects of Dean ever giving her one, Y/N finally had enough and broke the bond they’d forged in their years together and left him, but with Sam now begging her to go to Dean and save his life, will she go, or will she leave the green-eyed alpha to his biological fate?

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Female Omega!Reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Bingo Square: Alpha Gone Feral for @j3bingo

Warnings: tw: dub con claiming, omegaverse, A/B/O, A/B/O dynamics, language, ruts, feral alpha, agitation, aggression, smut, rough sex, biting, oral sex (f rec), fingering, p in v sex, hair pulling, heavy angst, aftercare, fluff

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Here we go… the super angsty finale of this alpha!Dean mini-series! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a little comment. It really does fuel our muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

You can catch up here!

My Masterlist AO3 Ko-Fi

Y/N’S POV

The knocking on your motel room door startles you, and you grab your gun from the waistband of your jeans and cautiously step towards the door. Flicking the safety off, you place the barrel onto the wood and cautiously open it just enough to see who’s on the other side.

“Sam? Cas?” you gasp, throwing the door open wider.

“You should be more careful, Y/N. We could be demons or shapeshifters or any other kind of monster,” Cas speaks first, and you blink at him, amused, as always, by his directness.

“Nice to see you, too, Cas,” you smirk, opening the door wider to let them in.

“Hey, Y/N,” Sam says as he leans down to hug you. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Sam,” you smile as you close the door behind them. You know whatever this unplanned visit is, it’s about Dean.

“You seem healthy,” Cas states, tilting his head to the side and frowning as if searching for something. “And yet��”

“So!” Sam interrupts quickly. “How have you been?”

“Fine…” You narrow your eyes at the alpha’s strange behaviour. “This isn’t a social visit, is it?” You finally ask.

“No,” Cas confirms, and you don’t know if you’re glad he’ll get straight to the point or if you’d prefer Sam to dance around it all a little more.

“Dean.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement. You knew from the way your stomach dropped the second you saw them that this wasn’t a good news visit.

“I asked Cas to find you,” Sam said softly.

You and the younger Winchester have stayed in touch since you left the bunker, but you agreed you wouldn’t tell him where you were, and he wouldn’t ask. It was one thing for Dean to find out they were talking, but it’d be another entirely if he knew Sam knew where she was.

“What happened?” Your mind goes to the worst possible scenario, and you try to fight the rising nausea.

“Dean has been taking store bought suppressants,” Sam says, and you feel your blood boil.

“What? Why? Why would he be so goddamn stupid? Did he know what they’d do to an alpha in his situation?” you fume at the men as you pace the threadbare carpet.

“No. He knew they weren’t suitable long-term, but the side effects he experienced weren’t typical,” Cas answered.

“I thought it was a mix of the drugs and rejection sickness and that it’d ease over time,” Sam says calmly and quietly. “But I think he suffered some kind of chemical reaction to them, and by the time I found out what he was taking, it was too late.”

“Too late? Sam, what are you saying?” You’re terrified of what he’s so anxious to tell you.

“He’s feral, Y/N,” Cas finally puts you out of your misery, and while it’s bad news, it’s not the worst thing they could’ve told you. “But I don’t understand why you are not.”

It’s not an accusation. The angel is just curious about alphas who mate with but don’t claim omegas. To his literal knowledge, an alpha finds an omega, they mate, there’s a claim, an unbreakable bond, and pups. Your situation with Dean had always intrigued the celestial being.

“Because I’ve been taking the suppressants I should. Prescribed by a doctor. Why didn’t he do the same thing?” Contrary to the angel’s question, yours is accusatory as you look between Sam and Cas.

“You know what he’s like, Y/N. He doesn’t talk about these things, and I didn’t know until a few days ago. He’s been overcome with guilt for how he treated you, and I think…” Sam trails off, noticing from the look on your face that you know what he was alluding to.

“You think this is some kind of self-sacrifice?” you ask in disbelief. Dean is well known for his self-depreciation, and it’s something you’ve seen and heard from him many times, but this? “No… No, I don’t believe that. Why would he put himself through that just to go feral anyway? Why not just lie down and let it happen on its own?”

“You really want me to answer that?” Sam asks, and you frown.

“Sam, you can’t be serious! Dean is not doing this to punish himself for hurting me. There’s no way,” you argue, but you know the green-eyed alpha better than he knows himself. It does sound like something he’d do to himself—some kind of fucked up repentance for his behaviour.

Sam only shrugs, and you sigh, knowing you’ve both come to the same conclusion.

“So, what? You want me to go to him? Get him out of this mess?”

“You’re his mate. Only you can get him back from this,” Cas says, and you laugh bitterly, taking the angel by surprise.

“I bet Dean loves that!” you scoff. “Anytime I told him that like it or not, we’re mates, he shot me down in flames!”

“I know he hurt you, and I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, and Dean knows it too. He told me not to look for you. That he doesn’t deserve your help, but I’m asking you to think about it. Please?”

“I don’t know, Sam. If I go to him, you know what it means, right?” you check, not convinced either of them fully understand what they’re asking of you.

“I do,” Sam responds.

“And you know it’s pretty much a done deal that he’ll claim me in his feral haze? And then when he comes to, he’ll regret it and reject me? You’re asking me to sacrifice myself for him? Because I won’t survive his rejection, you both know that, right?”

“He’d never reject you, Y/N,” Cas confirms what you know in your heart, but it brings no comfort.

“Oh, because a forced claim and being stuck with someone who doesn’t want me is a better fate than dying from rejection!”

“He does want you. He loves you. He just can’t—” Sam starts, but you interrupt with a scoff.

“Give me what I want. I know, Sam. He’s told me that so many times it’s imprinted in my memory!” You huff, quickening your pacing.

You want to say no. You want to protect yourself and your fragile heart that’s still trying to heal, but you know if you were the feral one, Dean would already be here, doing everything he could to get you through it—even claiming you just so you’d survive.

He doesn’t deserve to die, and yet, you don’t deserve to be someone’s mistake, but you can’t see any other option. If you don’t go to him, he’ll die. If you go to him, and he doesn’t reject you, you’ll be miserable, but you’ll both be alive.

“Fuck!” you yell in frustration. Once again, you feel that self-loathing that only Dean seems able to bring out of you. You hate yourself because you still love him even after everything, and you’d sacrifice everything to save him.

“Where is he?”

Walking up to the secluded cabin, you shiver at the deathly silence surrounding you. As if being this deep in the woods isn’t ominous enough, there isn’t even a bird chirping or an insect buzzing in the heavy air.

You’re so deep in the woods that the midday sun can’t even breach the trees. You drove as close as you could, but you’d had to abandon your car about a mile back. This is probably the safest house Bobby had ever found, and you have to admire Dean for choosing this one to hide out in.

Sam had given you the key. At first, you’d been shocked he’d lock Dean in with no way to escape, but you knew feral alphas aren’t to be taken lightly. There had been cases of ferals going on murder sprees, and the green-eyed hunter would never risk putting people in any kind of danger.

“Dean?” you call out as you knock on the door. “It’s Y/N. Sam found me. He said you need my help.” With no response, you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for being too late, and put the key in the lock.

Pushing the door open slowly, the sour smell of Dean’s feral rut slams into you, and immediately your body begins to respond to the distressed alpha. Your skin tingles, heat floods your veins, and slick pools at your entrance. You’ve never been more grateful for a heat to come on as you are now. If it didn’t, Dean could seriously hurt or even kill you trying to get himself out of this.

“Omega,” Dean growls from the doorway of the bedroom and with one look at his bloodshot eyes, you know there’s little to no humanity in him right now.

“Alpha,” you whimper and bow your head in submission.

“Mine,” he groans in front of you, and you jump, having not heard him move across the room.

Dean buries his head in your neck and inhales your scent, gasping as if he’d been suffocating, and your scent is his oxygen.

“My ‘mega,” Dean snarls and slams you against the wooden door. You whimper at the pain and remind yourself not to fight. If you fight, things could get ugly.

Pawing at your jeans, he tries to undo them, but in his desperation to get at you, he can’t grasp the little brass button and punches the wall next to your head in frustration.

“Hey,” you purr, placing a hand on his cheek and smiling as he leans into your touch, “It’s okay, Alpha. Let me.”

Loosening the button and pulling the zipper down, you kick off your shoes, slide the denim from your legs and step out of them. Moving to your shirt, you begin pulling at the material when Dean slaps your hands away.

“No!” he growls. “Mine.”

Dean isn’t gentle when he claws at your shirt, grabbing the neckline with both hands and ripping the cotton from your body. The groan that rumbles from his belly when your lace-covered breasts are exposed to his gaze has slick soaking through your underwear.

He wastes no time placing his lips on the tops of your breasts, biting and sucking the sensitive skin, marking you in a way he never has before. Dean pulls the cups of your bra down and quickly finds a hard nipple, and you groan from his overzealous assault.

You whine as the alpha pulls away from you, but before you can complain further, Dean lifts you on his shoulder and carries you to the bedroom.

“Strip,” he orders as he places you back on your feet, and you don’t dare disobey or take your time removing your bra and panties.

“Good girl,” he praises as he takes his clothes off, and you wonder if just being here is making him a little less feral. “Get on the bed, Omega.”

Again, you don’t dare take your time and quickly crawl onto the bed and wait for his next instruction. Dean kneels at the bottom of the bed, pulls you down by your ankles, and pushes your knees down to the mattress.

“Mine,” he growls as the scent of your slick reaches him, and he lowers his head between your legs. He’s not gentle, anything but, and his longer stubble scratches and jabs at your soft, sensitive skin. It’s sore, yet you quickly fall apart on his mouth.

Before you fully come down from your high, Dean’s fingers are inside you, and he’s sucking and biting his way up your body. When this is over, your skin will be an interesting spectrum of colour; you can already see patches of red on your breasts from earlier, and Dean’s not done with them yet as he goes back to sucking and biting your nipples.

As your forced heat takes over, the pain from Dean’s bites and rough hands ease, and all you can feel and hear now is desire and pleasure and growls and snarls, and Dean, mumbling mine over and over again while his teeth nip at your neck.

“Present, Omega,” Dean growls as he pulls back from your body just enough to let you turn around. You crawl further up the bed and lean forward onto your elbows. You unintentionally wiggle your ass as you get comfortable in your new position, making Dean growl deeply and spank your round cheeks.

You feel his hands slide up your thighs and over your ass. His touch soothes and cools your heated skin. When he finally slams into your slick, aching pussy, it’s hard, rough, and deliciously painful.

Dean is fully feral, and there’ll be no stopping him until he comes out of the rut in five or six days. You know it won’t be pretty, and you won’t come out of this unscathed. At least your heat is making you feel like a wanton whore.

As your humanity is overtaken by omega, much like Dean’s is with alpha, your last thought is being grateful for being in a cabin in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere.

It’s been six days, and Dean still pounds into you like there’s no tomorrow. Your heat is starting to wane, but hasn’t subsided so much that you won’t still be pliable under his hands. Still, at least the heat fog is beginning to lift, and you hope it’s a sign that Dean’s rut is finally ending.

It took four knots to get him out of his feral state, but his rut is intense, and he’s insatiable. You suppose the combination of suppressants and being feral will do that to an alpha.

“‘Mega,” Dean grunts as his hand slides up your spine and grips your neck. “So good for me, baby girl.”

His praise makes you purr, and you feel his hand slide from your neck into your hair and wrap his fist around it, making your body turn to jelly. Dean tugs your hair, and you’re forced to raise to your knees, your back pressed against his chest, and he pulls your head to the side by your hair, exposing your neck to him.

It’s already black and blue from the gnawing he’s been doing there this past week, but this is different. He’s scenting you and licking your mating gland and whining. Dean loves licking and kissing your neck, but not like this. It feels different. There’s a change in the atmosphere, and his thrusts are brutal and stuttered.

You try to move, try and get him away from you, but he snarls and yanks your hair painfully, keeping a hold of it so you can’t move.

“Dean,” you whimper, and he snarls again at the use of his name, and you know he’s not as far out of this rut as you’d hoped. “Alpha, please,” you beg, but it’s useless. He’s too far gone again. His mouth is sucking on your mating gland, and he’s growling and grunting as his knot swells and catches at your entrance.

“Please don’t do it, Alpha. It’s just the rut. You don’t want this… you don’t want me, please!” you cry. But as his knot slips inside, locking you together, your head falls back on his shoulder, and when his teeth break your skin, you scream your release and lose the little self-control you had earlier.

Coming down from your high, you notice that Dean is still latched onto you, and you can feel blood dripping down your neck. The sudden rush of hormones and pheromones from the claim makes you reach another orgasm, and this time, you take the alpha with you. Grunting and growling, Dean’s release coats your walls, and you let the blackness take over.

When you come to, you’re on your side, and Dean is cleaning and soothing the wound on your neck with gentle licks and soft kisses. You’re still locked together, and every twitch of his cock catches your G-spot and fills your womb with even more of his seed.

A brief thought that he could’ve gotten you pregnant crosses your mind, and you hope the fates aren’t so cruel as to have this be when you get your wish of pups; not like this.

The last week finally catches up with you, and the lullaby of Dean’s whines and whimpers, combined with his soft kisses, lull you into a deep sleep.

The sun’s warmth on your face begins to wake you from sleep. Your muscles feel heavy, and Dean’s lips caress your back and shoulders.

“Morning, Omega,” he rasps behind you, sliding a warm hand over your hip, and a pang of dread settles in your stomach. You’re tired, every muscle in your body is screaming at you, and your pussy is in agony from a week of rough pounding and knots courtesy of the alpha pulling you closer to his body. If he’s still not out of this rut, you don’t think you’ll survive another round.

“Don’t worry,” Dean chuckles. “I’m not feral anymore, and the rut has gone.”

You’re confused, wondering how he knew what you were thinking. You don’t think you groaned. In fact, you’re pretty sure you didn’t even move. Your body is too sore to even tense up.

Then you remember Dean claimed you and that he did it while in a feral rut.

As your whole world comes crashing down around you, you do the one thing you’d rather die than do in front of Dean.

Cry.

DEAN’S POV

Devastation. That’s all he can feel radiating from the omega next to him. When he woke an hour ago, he’d been happier than ever. The second he claimed Y/N, there was a shift, and all felt right in the world.

He thought—naively, he now realises—Y/N would be happy. It’s what she wanted. What she needed, but the sheer anguish from her tells a different story. The worst part of all this is the shame he feels for claiming her without her consent and the knowledge that now, she’s stuck with him whether she wants to be or not.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay,” Dean tries to soothe her and presses his lips to her shoulder. “Y/N, look at me, please?” She remains on her side, facing away from him and crying, and the alpha in him takes over. His omega is in distress, and he needs to fix it. “Omega, look at me!” he growls lowly, and watches as Y/N obeys his order and timidly rolls onto her back.

Dean’s jaw drops, and he’s disgusted with himself as he takes in her abused torso. There are a couple of bites and bruises on her back and shoulders, but it’s nothing compared to what covers her neck, breasts and stomach. There’s so much bruising that barely any skin has been left unblemished. As he scans further down her body, he can see the same damage over the tops of her thighs and between her legs.

“Baby girl, I’m so sorry. I—” Dean can’t finish; he has no words for what he did to her. He immediately gets out of bed and fills the tub with hot water. There’s only so much he can do for her out here in the cabin, but the safe house is stocked with first aid supplies, medication and dry and tinned food.

When the tub is full, he shuts off the water and walks back into the bedroom, seeing Y/N still lying on her back and seemingly void of all emotion. Whether it’s on purpose to shut him out or she’s in shock, Dean’s not sure.

Walking over, Dean lifts her from the bed and carries her into the bathroom. He lowers her into the hot water and bathes her gently, mumbling words of comfort, hoping she can hear him and that she can find it in her to forgive him.

Y/N’S POV

After tenderly bathing you, Dean left you to soak in the warm water a little longer, telling you there were clothes in the wardrobe and that he’d make something to eat.

“Please eat with me, omega. You need to get your strength up, and we need to talk,” Dean had begged before he left, closing the door but not fully so he could still keep an eye on you.

He was right; you do need to talk. And eat. You feel weak and lightheaded and desperately in need of something to take away the pain that’s pulsing through every inch of your body.

When the water has lost its warmth, you climb out and wrap yourself in a towel, avoiding the mirror in the corner. Dean’s reaction earlier is enough for you to know you’ll burst into tears if you see it for yourself. And you can’t bear to see his claim on your neck when it was given under duress.

Pulling clothes from the wardrobe, you choose the softest and biggest things you can find. You know from the smell that the sweats and t-shirt are Dean’s, but you’ve always gotten comfort from his scent, and you suspect you’ll get even more from it now.

Coming out of the bedroom, you follow the noise towards the main part of the cabin and find Dean spooning pasta into bowls in the kitchen.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” he asks, stopping what he’s doing to give you his full attention.

“Sore,” you chuckle, pulling out a stool. You hiss and wince, the throbbing—and not the good kind—between your legs getting worse for a few seconds as you sit.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean… I hate that I was so rough. That I’ve hurt you,” Dean says as he pushes a bowl and fork towards you.

“You were feral, Dean. It’s not your fault,” you reply, and you mean it. It’s really not his fault.

“It is, though, sweetheart. If I had taken the right suppressants, I wouldn’t have gone feral, and I wouldn’t have claimed you without your consent.”

“I knew what I was signing up for when I came here. I’m just sorry you’re stuck with me,” you smile sadly. “And if you want to leave, I get it. I know I’m not what you want—”

“Would you stop saying that?” Dean interrupts. “I do want you. I have always wanted you. I’m scared that tying you to me will put you in danger.” The desperation rolls from him in waves, and you know he’s telling you the truth. You can feel it. “I want you, Omega. I want this. I don’t regret claiming you. I regret doing it against your will, and if you want to leave me… reject me… It’s what I deserve, and I’ll let you walk out of here right now, but please stop saying that I don’t want you, Y/N. You’re all I want.”

The chemical bond you now share with Dean is overwhelming. He feels more deeply than he ever lets on, and regret over the non-consensual claim is putting it mildly. He’s distraught over it, and his feelings are so strong that you can almost hear the thoughts in his head telling him he’s stupid and he’s fucked things up before it’s really started between you. You can’t take it. You can’t let him think you don’t want this too.

“You’re all I want too, Alpha. The reason I got so upset when I realised you could feel how I felt is because it was a rut claim, and we’d be stuck together and miserable and resentful, and I didn’t want that for either of us, but I could never reject you, Dean. I love you too much.”

The relief that washes over him makes you smile, and because of your new bond, you know he knows every word is true.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m sorry I couldn’t admit it before, and I’m sorry I didn’t give you what you wanted sooner.” Dean slides off his stool and comes to your side with a tube of cream in his hand. “Now, let me see that claim. It needs something on it, sweetheart.”

You tilt your head to the side and pull the neck of the shirt down, exposing the angry, swollen bite mark. Dean gently covers the wound with the medicated cream, and you hiss at the sting.

“Sorry, baby girl.” Dean winces, feeling your discomfort as clearly as you can. “Now, eat and then bed, Omega.”

“Just to sleep, right?” you ask, scrunching up your face and wriggling in your seat at the thought of him going anywhere near your pussy for at least a week. “No sex?”

“No sex,” Dean laughs. “You need to rest, sweetheart, so just lots of cuddles and closeness and bonding and sleep.”

THE END

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567

#j3bingo #omegaverse #a/b/o universe #alpha!dean winchester x omega!reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o

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charliemwrites · 7 months ago

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Three to Flee

Commission from the very sweet @ignoreprotocol

Someone leaves the door open and the pets get out.

Content Warning: Established kidnapping situation, unhealthy relationships, collaring

Author's Note: This does not mean Keeper/Kept is back. As far as I'm concerned, that story is finished, but this was a special case.

Shockingly, it’s not Feral that brings it up first.

The girls are having a little picnic at the edge of Johnny and Shy Thing’s yard, shaded by the tall trees. The men are chatting on the porch, sharing cigars and whiskey, far from earshot. Good behavior has earned them this bit of privacy, and so far, they’ve just used it to exchange keeper notes and offer bedroom advice.

“I can’t believe you don’t even have a fence,” Good Girl muses, glancing at the forest beyond. Her own yard is well fortified. It’s not just the sturdy, unclimbable fence, but also the monitors and floodlights connected to it.

Shy Thing sheepishly mentions a failed escape attempt several months earlier, a mad dash through the woods that ended with her dirty and disciplined. That prompts Good Girl to confess her own ill-fated getaway, a midnight attempt at sneaking out that resulted in a bruised ass.

Feral listens with her head cocked, nibbling at her apple slices. When their eyes turn to her, she shrugs.

“I haven’t tried to leave in a while,” she admits, “but I don’t think it would go well.”

Good Girl frowns. “How do you know if you haven’t tried?”

Feral snorts. “You’ve met Simon, haven’t you?”

All eyes turn to the boys on the porch. And there’s Simon, watching. Feral makes a rude gesture his way and they can see his shoulders shaking with a chuckle.

“Besides… it’s not so bad,” she muses. “Most of the time.”

Good Girl sits back, expression twisting. “I don’t want it to be ‘not so bad,’ I want it to be good. And I want it that way all the time.”

Shy Thing shifts. “What’s so wrong with John…?”

Good Girl huffs and begins picking at threads in the blanket. “He’s… fine. I mean, he would be if I could just leave. Don’t you miss being free?”

Feral hums.

“I… I miss going to the store when I wanted… or just… walking around town,” Shy Thing admits slowly. “I miss coffee shops and parks.”

Good Girl groans in agreement. “I miss the internet. It’s like being a fucking teenager again, having all my activity monitored.”

With a little more momentum now, Shy Things continues, “I haven’t been alone in months. Just… by myself. Doing whatever I want.”

“And not having rules,” Good Girl adds, sipping at the mojito John put in a little travel cup for her. “Fucking… sick of having a bedtime and chores and a fucking collar. Aren’t you sick of it?”

It’s directed at both of them, but Shy Thing nods, hands fidgeting.

“It gets to be a lot sometimes,” she mumbles, “I think I warmed up to Johnny out of pure exhaustion.”

Good Girl huffs again, worked into a proper fuss now. “And they’re so smug about it. Like we’re just these good, trained pets.”

Feral pipes up, “We could leave together.”

Both girls swivel to her with varying degrees of shock, hope, and disbelief.

“You said you didn’t think you could get past Simon,” Good Girl says.

Feral snorts and stretches out on her stomach in a mottled patch of sunlight creeping through the leaves.

“Yeah, I couldn’t on my own,” she explains, “but between the three of us…”

It’s uncomfortably simple when it happens. They just need to wait until the next big mission.

All three of them beg (or in Feral’s case, demand) to spend that time together while the keepers are away. It’s not unusual for the creatures to meet up when one or more of the men are gone. With all three off on a mission this time, they sniffle about being lonely and wanting company. That their houses feel too big and empty, that cooking for one is depressing.

Johnny caves instantly; John agrees on the stipulation that Good Girl is on her best behavior before he leaves. Simon, of course, is a foregone conclusion.

They go to Simon’s house. It’s the safest of the three homes and has the most space. Not to mention the girls will have some sort of access to the outside with the enclosed sunporch.

On the day of the mission, Good Girl and Shy Thing show up with fully packed bags, ready for their extended “sleepover” with Feral. The pets see their boys off, behave as normal for the cameras until Shy Thing gets the “heading out” message from Johnny. That’s the greenlight.

Feral has her own bag of things that she packs quickly and expertly. They fill a fourth bag with nonperishable provisions, just in case. Each of them has cash that they filched last minute from their keepers’ wallets – knowing they wouldn’t check them just before a classified mission.

The girls know it’ll be a day or two before anyone checks on them. Even Kyle is away with the team this time.

And then it all comes down to walking out the door.

The front door is, of course, locked. All the windows have alarms on them, and so does the garage door. But the sunporch…

“He didn’t lock the door,” Feral realizes as it swings open. And the alarm only engages when it’s locked.

All three of them take a single step out into the open air. And stop. Stare at each other a little moon-eyed.

They just left.

They stride at a quick clip around the side of the house and down the road. It’ll be an hour-long walk into town, but they have thick coats and each other for company. They chatter as they follow the pavement, just within the tree line out of caution. Pretend its giddy celebration at their escape and not a distraction from the creeping mix of dread and uncertainty beginning to simmer within each of them.

When they reach town, they blend into the crowds, weaving through the streets until they find a low-end hotel. It won’t be anything fancy, but at least it seems clean enough. Good Girl does all the talking with the receptionist (also a lady, thank god) since Feral and Shy Thing are jittery from so many people. They get a one-bed room with easy access to the fire exit.

It’s only after they’re inside that reality sinks its claws in.

They’re free. For the first time in months, they’re outside with no one standing behind their shoulders or holding their arms. No one to appease, nothing to behave for.

And Shy Thing throws up in the toilet.

“This is scary,” she wheezes, eyes watering. “I’m scared. I want—”

Though she stops, the other two know what the end of that sentence was. Good Girl rubs her back.

“Don’t worry, they’re not going to find us,” she soothes like she doesn’t know why Shy Thing is really scared.

Neither Shy Thing nor Feral reply. The answer hangs in the air, unspoken. We want them to.

Feral, feeling restless, goes back into the main room and begins rummaging through her bag.

“What are you doing?” Good Girl asks, giving Shy Thing privacy to clean up.

“Looking for something to cut that off with.” Feral nods to Good Girl’s collar. “It’s probably chipped or something. We should have taken it off at home.”

She stops as the blood drains from her fellow creature’s face. They stare at each other across the tiny motel room, the weight of their successful plan pressing heavier and heavier with each passing second.

“I…” Good Girl rasps, “I…”

“You don’t want to.”

Her eyes well with tears. “No.”

Feral drops her bag and crumples to the ground, tugging her knees up to her chest.

“Why don’t I want to?” Good Girl whispers, curling her arms around herself. “This… this was my idea. I complain all the time. Why do I miss him already?”

Shy Thing appears in the doorway, sniffling. “I-I don’t know if I can do this. I can’t imagine life without Johnny. I… I don’t know if I want to have a life without Johnny.”

And Feral, still on the floor and trembling all over, just looks at them with huge tears running down her face.

Needless to say, when three rather miffed keepers in full combat gear throw the door open at 3am, they are not expecting armfuls of distraught creatures sobbing into their chests.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #commissioned work #commission #keeper/kept au #keeper price #keeper ghost #keeper johnny

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calliesmemes · 24 days ago

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DARKNESS STILL HAUNTS YOUR NARRATIVE

ASSORTED ASKBOX PROMPTS from various sources with dark and / or unsettling themes. The ominous feeling from before is still there, and its prominence has only grown …

* TRIGGERING THEMES MAY BE PRESENT, such as death, wealth inequality, and war. Please exercise caution and curate your space accordingly.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed

SPECIFY muse for multimuses

❛ When I look at a person, I see a person — not a rank, not a class, not a title. ❜

❛ What a strange girl you are. ❜

❛ History is written by the rich, and so the poor get blamed for everything. ❜

❛ I could corrupt you. It would be easy. ❜

❛ How many centuries deep is your wound? ❜

❛ You’ll be remembered more for what you destroy than what you create. ❜

❛ Bitter are the wars between brothers. ❜

❛ Power comes with a price. ❜

❛ Your power might destroy you if you don’t learn to control it. ❜

❛ I’m not going to let you anywhere near a battlefield! ❜

❛ War is sweet to those who have never fought. ❜

❛ Cowardice is everywhere in this country. ❜

❛ Which appeals to you more? Power, or love? ❜

❛ Inside my head, the war is everywhere. ❜

❛ You look like your grief and guilt and rage are eating you alive, bit by bit. ❜

❛ Good and evil are a question of perspective. ❜

❛ The only difference between martyrdom and suicide is the press coverage. ❜

❛ Your place is at home; you will fight another day. ❜

❛ How many more children do we have to sacrifice in this war? ❜

❛ When you talk to the dead, the dead will talk back. They’re always there, even if you can’t hear them. ❜

❛ I am half child, half ancient. ❜

❛ You’re like me. You’ve seen too much, too young. ❜

❛ Every word from your mouth, every turn of phrase, will be judged — and possibly used against you. ❜

❛ I prefer the most unfair peace over the most righteous war. ❜

❛ A love like ours could burn down a city. ❜

❛ In my experience, men only call women ‘mad’ when they are doing something inconvenient. ❜

❛ I will do anything to keep you safe from harm. ❜

❛ You wield an incredible amount of power with just your voice. ❜

❛ You know, everything old can be made new again. Like democracy. ❜

❛ You laugh like a little girl, and think like a martyr. ❜

❛ What is a home if not the first place you learn to run from? ❜

❛ Do you understand what it means when you have nowhere else to turn? ❜

❛ The war is never over. ❜

❛ We are products of our past, but we don’t have to be prisoners of it. ❜

❛ I dream of the past as if it were yet to come. ❜

❛ You have endured terrible suffering, haven’t you? ❜

❛ Your beauty terrifies me. ❜

❛ This is war — you never know who’s listening. ❜

❛ This is a land of dreams and madness, where childrens’ stories come to life. ❜

❛ The Earth is littered with the ruins of empires that believed they were eternal. ❜

❛ I’ll never get used to being alive. ❜

❛ We’ve been fighting this battle for too long. ❜

❛ We swore we’d never bow to tyranny. ❜

❛ Young men fall, I see their agony. ❜

❛ We all carry things inside us that no one else can see. ❜

❛ Your suffering can’t end until you stop identifying with it. ❜

❛ You have to be a bit of a liar to tell the story the right way. ❜

❛ I’m so afraid of losing something I love that I refuse to love anything. ❜

❛ You collect scars because you want proof that you’re paying for whatever sins you’ve committed. ❜

❛ You can escape reality, but you can’t escape the consequences of escaping reality. ❜

❛ Is that all you want to be? Liked? Wouldn’t you rather be passionately and voraciously desired? ❜

❛ Sorrow found me when I was young. ❜

❛ The very heavens conspire against me! ❜

❛ Do you like the person that you’ve become under the weight of living? ❜

❛ The evil that men do lives on long after they themselves have gone. ❜

❛ You are not safe here. ❜

❛ I don’t know any places I can hide from the voices that are tearing me apart from the inside. ❜

❛ I am not a legend; I’m a fraud. ❜

❛ Destiny is a worrying concept. I don’t want to be fated; I want to choose. ❜

❛ I am not merciful, and I am not kind. ❜

❛ Until the lion learns how to write, every story will glorify the hunter. ❜

❛ Vulnerability is courage in you and inadequacy in me. ❜

❛ You cannot save people. You can only love them. ❜

❛ This isn’t going to be like last time. ❜

#askbox meme #askbox prompt #rp ask meme #roleplay sentence meme #sentence starters #ask box #roleplay prompts #roleplay sentence starters #* sentence meme #rpc help

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moonlightwonu · 1 day ago

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이지훈 // Lee Jihoon [Woozi] Fic Recsᡣ𐭩

너의 시간과 나의 시간이 마주하는 날 안아 줄 거야~

Main Recs Masterlist

MINORS DNI!!!!!!!

Please like and reblog the fics to show the creators love and support~

“A New Home For The Holidays” by @the-boy-meets-evil

Afab!reader || Christmas au, acquaintances to lovers, fluff, smut || W.C: 10.5k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･where you can't go home for the holidays and end up having a much better christmas than you expect.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Pretty U” by @shinysobi

[Series] || Fem!reader || Fluff, Crack, Angst || Status: Ongoing || Total W.C: ~30k || Parts: 3(as of now)

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･when joshua, your best friend gets engaged, you can't help but feel as though you're missing out on something important. jihoon, your other best friend, kindly offers to set you up with one of his many friends. chaos ensues, seungkwan is an observer who knows everything, and unfortunately, mingyu is a hapless victim.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Elevator” by @cherriegyuu

Fem!reader || Soulmate au, angst || Parts: 2 || W.C: 27k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･in a world where soulmates exists, jihoon is faced with difficult decisions

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Heartache and a Latte” by @dkfile

Gn!reader || Coffee shop au, strangers to lovers, fluff, slice of life || W.C: 9.3k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･you couldn’t help but notice that your spotify mutual woozi has been listening to some downright sad songs as of late, but as much as you want to reach out and console them, you have no way to, seeing as you don’t know who they are. however, fate might give you a chance when you realize that whatever song woozi is listening to is the same one playing whenever you’re in the coffee shop.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Jihoon’s Puppy” by @rubyreduji

Gn!reader || College au, fluff, angst || W.C: 11.9k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･jihoon can’t seem to shake the puppy dog who keeps following him around or the teasing he gets for it

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Just Us and The Moon (Till The Sun Starts Waking)” by @97-liners

Fem!reader || College au, fwb, smut, fluff, angst, romance || W.C: 10k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･In which there's two things you knew when you were entering this arrangement. One: Jihoon doesn't like relationships. Two: You're a damn fucking fool for Lee Jihoon.

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“Broken Pieces” by @bluehoodiewoozi

Fem!reader || Soulmate au, angst, fluff || W.C: 5.3k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Your friend broke your soulmate's heart, leaving you to pick up the pieces of both his and your own heart.

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“Real Eyes, Fake Lies” by @wooataes

[Series] || Fem!reader || Soulmate au, Hanahaki au, angst || Status: Incomplete || Parts: 10(as of now)

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･What do you do when you find out the one person that was created by the universe to be yours doesn’t want you back?

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“As a Matter of Fact” by @starsstuddedsky

[Series] || Lawyer au, coworkers to lovers, fake dating, fluff, angst || Parts: 9 || Total W.C: 38k || Status: Complete

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･when you're caught in a simple lie, the best solution? dig in your heels and stick to your guns until everything inevitably goes wrong and everyone gets hurt or, a serial dater and a pessimist fake a relationship in the vain hope that nothing will go wrong

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“Girl Code” by @beefboyandbabygirl

Fem!reader || College au, friends to lovers, angst, smut, crack || W.C: 12k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･when you and your friends find out jihoon's been writing down everything you've off-handedly said about "girl code", you simply have to know why.

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"Timeless" by @rubyreduji

Gn!reader || Reincarnation au, fluff, romance || W.C: 10.3k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･you’ve just met jihoon, yet something about him feels familiar

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"The Prophet and His Muse" by @idyllic-ghost

Fem!reader || Deity au, Reincarnation au, Soulmate au, fantasy, romance, angst, fluff, smut || W.C: 11k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･In a world where ancient myths whisper through the fabric of modern life, a poignant tale of love and redemption unfolds. A god reunited with his eternal love. As this ancient bond stirs to life, he must navigate the delicate interplay between myth and reality—striving to rekindle a romance that defies time and embraces destiny’s call.

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"Storm Breaker" by @sailorrhansol

Fem!reader || Pacific au, Forced proximity, annoyed to lovers, smut, angst || W.C: 23.4k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･It’s a known fact Lee Jihoon is one of the best pilots the jaeger Program has. The only problem? He can’t keep a co-pilot to save his life. He thinks you’ll just be another Ranger in the rotation, but you are an unpleasant surprise.

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"Catch Me" by @viastro

Gn!reader || Spiderman au, best friends to strangers to lovers, action, angst, suspense, fluff, humour || W.C: 13.8k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･jihoon didn’t want any weaknesses, he couldn’t afford to have any. that’s why he ended your guys friendship. he couldn’t risk your life because of how dangerous his lifestyle is, but everything seems to crumble the moment he saves you for the first time.

Please let me know if the links have any problems~

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meanbossart · 9 months ago

Note

I gotta ask this has been rattling in my brain for a while.

How did your DU drow react when Astarion asked him for help with the ritual? What were his thoughts? Or was he simply like stop it, no, we aren't doing that. OH, How did you picture your Astarion and DU Drow react after he "died" and was brought back? I know that we don't really get that much dialogue or reaction from the companions when that happens (Praying they add something later down the line in another patch)

Again thank you for sharing your beautiful art and fanfic with all of us its so refreshing to see!!! :)

OHOHOHO I'm glad you asked. I feel like that first question is very revealing of DU drow's character and It was a fun moment to ponder upon, because I think much of his behavior might lead one to believe he would be willing to go along with whatever Astarion wants, instead of pushing back at all, at least on the surface.

There's two factors at play here - first, DU drow knows of his heritage at that point, and thanks to the blank-slate treatment of the tadpole he's gotten a brand new perspective on it by the time he learns of the truth. Prior to losing his memories, accepting the fate that Bhaal had bestowed onto him felt like a choice and the best thing that ever happened to him in life, a confirmation that he was special and destined for greatness instead of just damned to the lowly existence he had endured so far. After his brain is scrambled however, DU drow got a taste of what true freedom feels like while unburdened by his upbringing; he's strong, he's powerful, he's self-sufficient, he enjoys the fruits of his labor without appreciating what got him here - he does not feel like he needs Bhaal, and the fact he ever did is laughable at best and violating at worse. This leads him to abhor the idea of depending on higher power to succeed instead of just raising oneself up by their own merits, or abiding by any mentality where you take orders from a source.

So when Astarion speaks of ascension, and especially after he learns of the source of that power (Infernal magic) he's disillusioned by it. While his memories are still hazy, the situation still feels awfully familiar to him. He doesn't think Astarion needs that higher power because he doesn't, either, and to take it would surrendering to fear and giving away even more of his autonomy than he already has.

And if that sounds a little self centered and like he's missing some of the point, it's because he is. While DU drow has fallen in love with Astarion by that stage in the story and wants what's best for him (he actually entertains the idea of him ascending up to a point - he wants him to be happy) he still has a difficult time empathizing with others. Ascending feels like a bad choice, but he can only justify that feeling from his own, narrow perspective.

(I mused on about characterization for too long again. So more under the cut - the sky is blue the sun is hot etc.)

Then there's the uglier, far more vulnerable and knee-jerk reaction to it. Now that Bhaal is no longer his purpose in life or the gift he once felt it to be, Astarion has taken it's place. Bhaal needed DU drow, in his eyes, much like Astarion does now. And as much as the vampire might have told him that his feelings on the matter changed (and that he was no longer manipulating DU drow for his own ends alone) he can't fathom a reason to be kept around unless he continues to be needed. He has slotted himself as Astarion's protector and devotee, and a vampire lord does not sound like they need much of either.

As much as he would never admit to it, DU drow does not know a life where he doesn't pledge himself, body and soul, to another purpose. He seems like he's happy to barrel through life directionless, but he needs something that anchors him or he has an inexplicable feeling that something terrible will happen. And honestly, maybe he's right - for a man who loves killing, he has a much easier time applying some strategy to that desire as long as he's doing it to some an specific end. Without Astarion, he probably feels like his choices are to either submit to his hedonism entirely or just lie down and die.

I don't need to spell out that this is pure codependency at it's finest.

So, when Astarion asks for help to complete the ritual he is conflicted. He wants to do whatever Astarion wants, but his brain is setting off alarm bells that, if he acquiesces, this will be the end for them and for him. And whatever comes after is a terrifying void of nothing. While he loves Astarion and ultimately does the right choice in pleading with him to give up on this power, his motivations are far from selfless or pure, as much as DU drow may not yet realize it.

This is why, after everything takes place, and specially once he severs his connection to Bhaal and his mind clears a little further, DU drow would go on to grapple with a lot of guilt for taking this opportunity away from Astarion, as I have touched on in the fic and will continue to do so. He's happy to feel like he has a reason to be kept around, but the inevitable hurdles that Astarion must continue to face as a spawn are obviously painful to witness. This is why he dives full force into trying to "fix" his vampirism instead, following that.

NOW, FOR THE NEXT AND HOPEFULLY FAR BRIEFER ANSWER TO YOUR OTHER QUESTION (spoiler alert, it's not brief at all, god damn it):

Yeah everyone just standing around in that scene feels little weird LOL not that it took away too much from how dope a cutscene it was (I probably watched it with the attentiveness of a sport's fan witnessing a footbal game turning in the last 10 minutes of a match) but If I were to embellish it instead of just going with something like "everyone is shell-shocked and paralyzed", I would say Shadowheart is the first to rush over to see if there's anything at all she can do to help, and probably the first (and only, in that moment) to break down crying. I think she very quickly composes herself after he's brought back, tells him he gave her the scare of a fucking lifetime and that he's the luckiest idiot in all of the realms - but that she's glad he's back. No hugs for him though LOL

Astarion is pretty much the opposite, that he would stand there in shock feels kind of apt to me. Like, holy shit, what just happened? Did one of the only good things in my life really just get taken away in the blink of an eye? Am I just cursed to have everything snatched away from my hand as soon as I'm growing comfortable with it? Yes, of course I am. What else did I expect. When DU drow pops back up he's probably like "Oh yeah I knew it'd be fine" (plus the little Twee comment, that was very funny to me.) and DU drow is similarly going "Oh definitely, it was my plan all along to be killed and then resurrected by an ominous house-keeper skeleton this whole time. Anyway, smooch for a dead man?"

This... Clearly very traumatic little incident is probably addressed by them only later. He gets a kiss and a hug at camp and a very stern "if you do that shit again I'm raising you back up just to kill you myself" from Astarion and Shadowheart's just down to drink in celebration and drown her trauma away for now lmao.

OH YEAH AND GALE WAS ALSO THERE. There was a whole Gale debacle in my playthrough but, the TL;DR, is that especially towards the end of the game he was Not in the best of terms with DU drow. Still, I obviously think he's an empathetic person and had his own "oh shit" moment. I'd say he takes this opportunity to try extending a very sincere hand out to him later that day, both for his courage in defying a god and dumb-luck - which DU drow completely passes on like an asshole and just gives him a cold-shoulder about, leaving feeling even more dejected than he already was and probably further cementing his choice to pursue the crown of Karsus later, despite DU drow's disapproval. Good job buddy!

Thank you so much for the ask and for your lovely compliments!!! Sorry for writing you a dang ESSAY 😬

#ask #du drow #DU drow lore #about time I start using a tag like that #bg3 spoilers

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alta1red · 9 months ago

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HAZBIN HOTEL . IMAGINE . II 'The Darling Artisan from the Clouds'.

𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑹𝒀 : [ NAME. ] Is exploring Pentagram City, and runs into a certain Radio Demon..

𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 : [ NAME. ]'s luck might either be the worst, or the best no in-between . Alastor being a creep . OOC Alastor . Small amount of dialogue .

𝑷𝑻. : II.

— Well, congrats ! You somehow managed to avoid probably all the wrong kinds of people in Hell ( that being certainly 99% of its total population.. ) , was it due to sheer luck? Or by some stupid twist of fate something else awaits you in your path? Maybe, maybe not.

• As you wandered the streets of Hell and witnessed around One.. Hundred incidents of violence, abuse, prostitution, people getting mugged and drug dealing —You remained peaceful (?), ( you held your art matierials closer to your figure. ) although your inspiration did take abit of a dark turn in its source. Your cloak, and subtle presence helped you alot in hiding your angelic features .

• But your presence certainly didn't manage to slip by a certain .. Shadow Minion of a Radio Demon.

• 'It', 'He'? Observed you with careful precision, you certainly didn't think you'd be able to just waltz around in Hell unnoticed, did you? As you wandered mindlessly through Pentagram City blissfully and ignorantly prancing around as you gazed at horrid theatrics.

• How interesting ! Oh how 'His' smile got even wider ,

• As you accidentally bumped into people left and right in the Enertainment District, you always muttered small apologies —As if the reciever was even sober to hear it.

• Your manners were impeccable, how kind of you ! It's almost as if you don't belong here.

• 'He' knows you don't.

• You feel it, the feelings been gnawing at your back for awhile now.. Someone has been following you, and so that's why you were practically near a sprint as you ran through Districts, and Border zones —Fully debating on using your wings to get away from 'It' entirely, but weighing the pro's and con's were obviously needed before taking such a drastic option and life threatening decision.

• And since you didn't want to be hunted down, or even worse —Reported to the King of Hell, you took alleyways and random directions hoping to run away and have its sight's lose you. ( Dumb Decision. )

• Now DEAR. You didn't think you'd run away so easily now do you? After all, the site of an angel after the extermination was worrying ! How he wanted to try Angel Meat —However, he must introduce himself to you first !

• As you ran into another alleyway —" Shit! Dead end — "

• A dark murky shadow formed behind you, your instincts caused you to turn into fight or flight mode — Your halo glowed violently reacting potently from your panicked emotions,

— START OF MEMORY.

" No need to act so —violently, My Dear ! " The Demon's voice had a static filter —possibly done on purpose, he donned a transatlantic accent —He felt powerful, yes —but you've been enhancing your ability, even when Heaven was probably the most peaceful place in the entire universe, despite the fact Adam caused a ruckus every now and then —but he's already dead, so peaceful it was once more;

The Demon found your panicked expression comedic, hilarious, fun.

Like Prey facing Predator.

Could it be you felt fear? Panic? Whatever it was, it was certainly messing with your train of thought— you needed to rationalize yourself !

Talking a sharp breath and sucking it up, you then inquired — " I'm so sorry Sir, I was just rather startled .. " Your tone was geniune, yes —But your actions certainly told what you actually felt —Your hands quivered and beads of sweat started to form under the hood of your cloak.

" What a frightened Swan ! What's an Angel like you doing here ? " 'He' mused, relishing within your frightened presence. Your gaze turned cold as you felt your sweat turn freezing, your jaw slightly agape—

You looked at him before saying, " —

— END OF MEMORY.

• Your encounter with the Radio Demon was far from pleasant, but you wouldn't admit it. It's not nice to do so,

—FIN.

#hazbin hotel x reader #Hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin alastor #hazbin x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere hazbin #yandere alastor #alta1red #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin x you #hazbin x y/n

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sleepyhollands · 1 year ago

Note

Omg can u pls do a blurb ab Demon!Harry finds Angel!Y/N being bullied by some other demons and he stops them before they go too far?? 😇😇😇

harry was just on his way home after a terribly long afternoon of making sinister deals and collecting the souls of the damned when he heard the commotion across the street. normally, it being literal hell, he wouldn’t expect much differently from the world around him, but he happened to take a fleeting glance toward the whooping laughter and mocking voices, and saw something that made him do a double take.

now, there is no place in hell for the color white, save for the teeth of the few demons who care for dental hygiene and the whites of their eyes before they’re consumed with inky blackness. so imagine harry’s surprise when he thought he spotted an array of ivory feathers, scuffed as they may be, flutter behind a wall of burly demons whose backs were turned to him. but no, that couldn’t be right… right?

call it the pull of curiosity (months later, he would call it fate), but harry felt like he should go over there, if only to confirm his suspicions. so he did.

harry walked up behind the group, quietly so as not to be heard, with his arms crossed and his jaw set. he was still many meters away, but the closer he got, the better he could hear, and suffice to say he was becoming concerned. now, harry’s all for roughing someone up— it’s quite literally in his job description, right under ‘hijacking high school slumber party ouija sessions’— but something about the whimpers of pain and pleas for mercy weren’t sitting well with him.

“please, i-i’m sorry, i don’t know how i—,” the voice cut off with a sharp cry.

was that a girl’s voice? surely they didn’t kidnap a girl from the surface? harry may be a demon, but even he had some morals.

“aw, is it scared? you scared, sweetheart?”

“how did a pretty little thing like you get all the way down here, huh? ’s like you’re beggin‘ for us to grab you by the neck and—”

“quiet, dumbass. don’t want anyone to know about this. don’t wanna have to share it, do we? fuck, we’re so fucking lucky.”

harry saw the demons shuffle around a bit, seemingly manhandling whatever girl they were tormenting. when they turned and harry’s view was no longer obstructed, his eyes widened momentarily as his wildest suspicion was confirmed. but how in satan’s name did an angel get to hell?

one of the demons had his arm wrapped around the terrified girl’s middle, his broad chest to her back, her wings crumpled in what harry assumed could only be quite painful between them, free hand clamped over her mouth. another grabbed both her wrists in one of his, squeezing tight and causing her knees to buckle as she sobbed into the first creature’s palm. harry could’ve sworn he heard a muffled “please!” from beneath it.

“the things we’re gonna do to you, doll face…,” mused one of the demons who wasn’t grabbing the angel, instead groping his crotch, squeezing and moaning, “fuck, i’m hard just thinking about it.”

their poor celestial victim’s eyes went wide with unmistakable fear, and she squirmed harder in their grasp, kicking her legs and subsequently having them restrained by the fourth and final gang member. she wasn’t touching the ground anymore, and had no more leverage to move in their grip.

“c’mon, let’s get outta here before someone—”

“what’s all this about, gentlemen?”

harry hadn’t even realized he’d come up to the edge of the scene until the demons before him shot their heads up in surprise, their leader (crotch-groper) leveling out to just about an inch shorter than him.

“harry!” he said with a grin, flashing harry his yellowing teeth as if they’d been friends for years, “what brings a demon of your standing down to this here part of hell?”

“answer the question or i’ll deliver you to lucifer myself.” harry didn’t spare the angel a glance, not wanting to alarm her further, but from the corner of his eye he could see her begin to tremble in her restraint.

crotch-groper, who harry soon recognized as lyle, a rather young and distasteful demon, clenched his jaw before responding. “found her all curled up an‘ alone in the alley. we were gonna go have some fun with her at sanjay’s, if you know what i mean. you want in? i just got a batch of new devices i haven’t had the chance to try out yet, and a fuckin‘ angel’s guaranteed to be a vir—”

“enough,” harry held up a hand to silence lyle, who only shut his mouth (albeit begrudgingly and with a huff) due to harry’s higher ranking— he really didn’t want to get reported to the boss… he quite liked his legs and wasn’t fond of the idea of them bending the other way.

harry finally took a good look at the angel, keeping his face stoic. her eyelashes and flushed cheeks glistened with tears, her body was shaking like a leaf, and she looked on the verge of hyperventilating. he couldn’t explain it, but harry found himself itching to smooth out the crease between her brows with his thumb.

he wished he could signal to her that he was handling this.

eyes meeting lyle’s again, he said, “an angel’s presence in hell is a grade six security violation. in other words, above your pay grade. she is hereby relinquished from your custody and into mine to be dealt with accordingly.”

“the fuck she is!” shouted one of the lackeys holding the girl, “we found her first!” and with so much as a tilt of his head, harry made it so his ribs snapped inwards and punctured his lungs, effectively ending the creature’s existence and his grip on the angel’s legs, allowing her to stand as he crumpled to the ground.

four pairs of eyes widened at harry, and then one of them squeezed so tightly shut he worried they might never open again.

“any more complaints, then?”

the three remaining gang members shook their heads, releasing their hold on the celestial, causing her to scrape her palms and knees on her short trip to the asphalt with a pitiful “oof!” if harry had blinked, he’d have missed their instantaneous dissipation from the scene.

fucking finally.

crouching to the ground where the innocent being was curled up into herself, harry reached out a hand to gently touch her shoulder as he began, “hey.”

but he didn’t get very far, because the second his skin made contact with her own, the girl scrambled backwards into the nearest alley wall with a gasp. dirt was collecting under her fingernails, at least one of her wings was definitely broken, she had no idea how she ended up in satan’s domain, and she was just so scared.

harry noticed how she couldn’t even look him in the face, her hands covering her own for fear he would attack her. he felt a pressure in his chest at the thought.

“’s all right, love,” he reassured. “’s all right, ’m not going t‘ hurt you.” she didn’t move an inch, so he patiently continued. “i’m harry. what do they call you?”

and while she was terribly afraid to speak to him, she was more afraid of what he might do if she continued to ignore him.

“y-y/n.”

harry smiled at the pretty name. “it’s nice to meet you, y/n.”

y/n kept her hands in front of her face as she responded. “nice… nice to meet you too, harry.”

he thought it was endearing, really, how her manners were so ingrained into her being that she could be polite to him even now. harry wanted to move a little closer, but he didn’t want to spook her. so he asked her if she could move her hands and open her eyes.

y/n shook her head so fervently, harry worried she might give herself whiplash. “he’s still there,” she sobbed, upper body shaking with her cries.

“’s just us here, love.”

“n-no… the man. the… the one you…,” she couldn’t bring herself to say it, but harry caught on. the one you killed.

oh, right. harry had forgotten him before he’d even hit the dirt. he waved his hand and the corpse disappeared from sight.

“he’s not, promise. no one to be seen for miles.”

tentatively, y/n lowered her hands, but they still hovered over her mouth, prepared to shoot back up at any moment. her eyes opened up to him again, and this time harry could admire their beauty without having to pretend to be indifferent.

“hi,” he smiled a gentle smile, settling his palms on his knees so she could see them still and empty. “can you tell me what happened, sweetheart?”

y/n flinched at the pet name, which didn’t go unnoticed by harry, and it took him a few moments to understand.

“aw, is it scared? you scared, sweetheart?”

“oh. sorry, um, about those blokes. they’re right big twats, they are. they won’t bother you again.”

y/n slowly began to relax, ever so slightly. but she still had a million unanswered questions, and her guard was still way up. why was this (rather handsome) demon being so kind to her? was it true he was going to be ‘dealt with’ by him? and why… what was that warm feeling she got in her tummy each time he called her ‘love’? she figured she should start with the most important question.

“what are you going to do with me?”

harry could literally feel the fear flowing through her veins, could practically hear her thoughts running a mile a minute. his face softened.

“well. first, we’re gonna have to take care of those wings, and any other injuries you may have. after that, we’ll try to find a way to get you home.”

y/n didn’t look convinced. “you’re… you’re not gonna… lock me away?”

“did you commit a crime in heaven? did you sin?”

“no…,” y/n tried to think back, tried to remember the moments before she wound up in hell, but it was like she was missing part of her memories. “i-i don’t think so.”

harry stood up, wiping his palms on his trousers and holding out a hand to help her up. “well, then there you are. it might be hard to believe, but there is a system for punishment in satan’s kingdom, too. if you haven’t done anything, we’ll get you right on home.” he didn’t say it aloud, but a small part of his heart twinged at the idea of letting her leave.

why was that?

y/n gratefully took his hand, but wasn’t able to help pull herself up. she was too weak, and her whole body ached. she figured she was only feeling it now from the passing of adrenaline as harry helped her relax. a whine tumbled from her lips as she struggled to stand.

“here,” harry spoke in a quiet voice. he stepped closer to her, and on instinct she shied away. he paused for a second, opening up his palms and facing them upwards as he approached to show he meant no harm. “y‘ can’t walk, love. let me help.”

hesitantly, the angel nodded, and harry swooped down to pick her up under the knees and shoulders. a small squeak escaped her lips as he pulled her off the ground, and he cooed, “i’ve got you. i’ll be careful.”

once she was securely in his arms, y/n asked the next biggest question on her mind.

“why are you helping me, harry?”

harry looked down at her big doe eyes, subconsciously pleading for him to protect her from the unknown horrors of this underworld she’s never hoped to find herself in. her small fists gripped his shirt like a vice, crinkling the well-pressed material, though harry found he didn’t mind.

“well,” he breathed, “this isn’t your home. and you’re hurt. and i know if i was confused and alone in a scary new place, i’d want some help, too.” then, to lighten the mood a bit, he added, “though, truthfully, it’d be hard to get me to admit it.”

y/n mirrored his small smile, uttering a breathy, “thank you.” her fingers still clung to his shirt just as tightly, but she relaxed enough to let her head fall to rest against his collarbones, and harry counted that as a small victory.

his wings, long and dark and somewhat ashy, extended fully behind him, and began wrapping themselves around the sweet girl in his arms, a barrier between her and the dark secrets of hell. then, generating no noise or wind as though nothing had occurred at all, the pair dissipated from sight.

taglist: @fahsey @caswinchester2000 @lmaotshollandd @jackiehollanderr @nervousdadmode @amii-nyc @skitmix @auggie2000 @voguesir @yourgoldengirls @hunnybunimdun @lolooo22 @atoris-fantasy

and also @cherryjuiceblues <3 :D

#this was supposed to be a short little blurb what have i done #harry styles #blurbs #request #harry styles blurb #harry styles request #harry styles blurb request #harry styles x reader #harry styles x reader blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader angst

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bright-side20 · 4 months ago

Text

People want to destroy Azriel's character, to make him a dumb entitled asshole, fuckboy just to not admit that he's in love with Elain

“Even so, the other males knew that we were different. And not because we were two bastards and a half-breed. We were stronger, faster—like the Cauldron knew we’d been set apart and wanted us to find each other. Rhys’s mother saw it, too."

" Do not forget that Nesta herself—and Elain, with whatever powers she has—is here. Feyre is here. All three sisters blessed by fate and gifted with powers to match your own."

When Azriel said : 'The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another.'

He wasn't acting entitled or childish, as antis claim, 'he just wanted a sister because his brother had the other sisters.'

No, Azriel is a logical thinker, and he was simply applying logic to the situation to convey what he feels to Rhysand.

Because in his magical world nothing is random, three bat boys who are the most powerful among their kind, meant to meet each other and work together. Similarly, three sisters were chosen to be turned into Fae with great powers and to meet the three winged males. The three brothers fell in love with the three sisters, two of the brothers are happily mated to two of the sisters, but the third sister was given to another male, with whom she has no interest. Why?

Lemme tell you why:

Because : “Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?”..... “You said your mother and father were wrong for each other; Tamlin said his own parents were wrong for each other.” I peeled off my dressing robe. “So it can’t be a perfect system of matching. What if”—I jerked my chin toward the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden—“that is what she needs? Is there no free will? What if Lucien wishes the union but she doesn’t?” “A mating bond can be rejected,” Rhys said mildly,... “There is choice. And sometimes, yes—the bond picks poorly. Sometimes, the bond is nothing more than some … preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring. At its basest level, it’s perhaps only that. Some natural function, not an indication of true, paired souls.”

Because : "What if the cauldron was wrong"

Because: We gathered our power and imbued these gifts in the Cauldron, so that it would work our will.(Vesperus, asteri)

By the way, the only person who has defeated the cauldron's fate until now is Elain Archeron 😊

#elriel #pro elriel #elriel supremacy #elain x azriel #pro azriel

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bunnliix · 8 months ago

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The Invisible Strings that Bind Us - Chapter Two

Chapter Two! We have some good cute fluff because it's gonna start getting angsty after this chapter, so prepare for that. But for now, we have some wholesome interactions between y/n and the boys. For anyone that saw this posted before, no you didn't.

a.k.a., I may have had to make a couple changes to it after it went live that I forgot about haha

Masterlist

word count: 1.8k

warnings: food, canon skz chaos, I think that's it

Y/n woke up slowly, feeling a bit disoriented. She felt whatever was beneath her shifting, before she heard an Aussie accent.

“Good morning sunshine.” She heard, opening her eyes to see Chan looking down at her.

“Huh? What the fuck? That wasn’t a dream?” She mused out loud, forgetting that she wasn’t thinking about it. She heard laughter coming from across the room, finding Changbin and Han bent over laughing.

“This isn’t a dream, we promise you. Now, do you wanna sit up?” Chan asked her, to which she nodded. With his help, she sat up and moved to sit against the back of the couch.

“You can stop laughing at me, god dammit. It wasn’t that funny.” She lightly glared at the two men. It really wasn’t that funny, honestly, she was ready to slap them. If only they were in reach of her.

“Guys, chill out, please.” Chan scolds the two members, raising an eyebrow at them. The boys apologized to Y/n, bowing and saying sorry to her. She waved away their apologies, telling them it was fine. She really didn’t mind, but it’s still not fun to get laughed at.

“So, where do we go from here?” Y/n spoke up, wondering what would happen now. It may not have been the ideal soulmate meeting, but obviously fate didn’t care about that. There may not have been a big outward sign that they were, but she had never felt more at ease with anyone else ever. Even prior girlfriends she had, that she almost thought were her soulmates, never made her feel this right as these eight boys were right now.

“Well, seeing as you landed right in our laps, and also Binnie has our initials plus one more set, and once we match yours up with the last initial, I’d say you’re our soulmate. We can figure everything else out from there.” Chan said, taking charge of the situation.

Y/n told them all her full name, and her initials matched up with the last set on Binnie’s arm. This prompted Felix to come over and hug her, whispering in her ear how much he’s glad to have found their last soulmate. He laid his head on her shoulder, his arms still wrapped around her, not letting go of her now that she’s here.

All of the boys’ phones went off, pushing them to check and see who’s messaging. Hyunjin groaned, “Ugh, we have to head back to dance practice, they’re looking for us.” He told the rest of them. This prompted many complaints and cries, the boys not wanting to leave their newest soulmate yet.

“How long do you have to practice? I can just stay here, honestly, it’s not that big of a deal. I have my phone and I can entertain myself till you all return.” Y/n said, smiling up at them. She didn’t mind being by herself for a little while, it would give her some time to process everything that’s happened.

“If we’re lucky, an hour? Depends on how much of a hardass Minho-hyung is today.” Hyunjin replied to her, not managing to dodge the slap from the aforementioned person. He rubbed his shoulder, feeling the pain from the hit.

“Yah! I don’t want to be away from our soulmate either, but keep it up like that and I’ll make you practice for hours.” Minho snapped back at Hyunjin, looking annoyed.

“Okay, let’s chill out, okay? No need to get violent.” Chan tried to pacify the situation, and thankfully it worked

The boys begrudgingly packed up, Minho leaning in close to Hyunjin as they left, telling him that he’d make a nice snack after 20 minutes in the airfryer at 180 degrees. Y/n laughed as she watched them leave, before moving to sit against the armrest, getting comfortable. She decided to think about her situation later, and grabbed her phone, opening up tiktok and scrolling the time away.

An hour later…

Y/n hadn’t realized how much time had passed, and when the door to the studio opened, she jumped and threw her phone up into the air, as she panicked. She however, managed to not fall off the couch, but her heart was running a thousand miles a minute as she tried to calm down. She held onto her chest, looking at the door to see the entirety of the group standing in the doorway, a couple of them trying to hold back their laughter, as others looked concerned.

“Could give a girl a bit of a heads up, yeah?” She said to them, a bit over the panic.

“We didn’t think you’d be that absorbed into whatever you were doing, honestly.” Chan replied to her, moving to grab her phone from where it had been thrown, and bringing it over to her.

She sat up, letting Chan sit down next to her. “That’s fair. I didn’t realize an hour had passed, to tell you the truth. But that’s because I’m bad at telling how much time has passed.” She explained. She truly had very little concept of time. She could look at the clock and five hours had passed when it only felt like it had maybe been an hour. It was one of her greatest weaknesses.

“Don’t worry, some of them get like that too.” Felix piped up, moving closer and sitting on the arm of the couch. “Chan especially, the man works and zones out while doing so.” He continued.

“Yeah, and the rest of 3racha are the same way.” Hyunjin pointed out, to which Han hit his arm.

“Yah, we’re not that bad!” He shouted, pouting afterwards. His little quokka cheeks made an appearance as he did that.

“I don’t think I believe that.” Y/n told Han.

He continued pouting, even his newest soulmate was being so mean. He couldn’t believe it, and there were giggles from his other soulmates, showing that they were on her side, not his.

“Well now that you’re all back, and I assume free from idol duties for a little while, I’d like to talk about where we go from here, now that we’ve confirmed I’m your last soulmate.” Y/n spoke up, trying to steer the conversation in another direction.

“Well, I think the first thing to discuss is how prepared you are to be the soulmate of eight other people, who I assume live very far away from where you are from?” Felix asked her.

“Well, considering that I’m from Canada, that’s not horribly far, but still a bit farther than I think is reasonable. So I think I’d be moving here, and not the other way round.” She told them, starting to think about the logistics of moving here.

“Ah, yeah. You’d have to move here, but we can help you with every step you need to take. We wouldn’t leave you to do it all alone.” Chan turned to look at her. “We’d have to move into a bigger place too, unless you’d want your own space?” He continued.

“I wouldn’t mind either option, really.”

“Okay, that’s fine, we can sit down with management and get that figured out. They can also help us look for a place for you as well, just as an option.” Chan said.

Y/n nodded, fine with that. She wasn’t picky, it really wasn’t a big deal to her where she’d be living. She’d just be happy to be near her soulmates, honestly.

Everyone went silent as Y/n’s stomach grumbled, the girl herself curling in on herself to try and hide.

“And maybe now is a good time for food.” Felix said.

“I’m hungry!” Changbin shouted, making a couple of the boys chuckle.

Chan stood up, holding a hand out to Y/n, who took it as she stood up as well. He pulled her along as they followed the rest of the boys towards the JYPE cafeteria, as it was the easiest place to get actual food. It thankfully wasn’t that packed when they arrived, and the boys quickly picked out their food, while Chan helped her decide on what she wanted. She went for some tteokbokki, and the other boys decided that they didn’t mind sharing bites of what they chose, so that nothing was wasted if she didn’t like it

Y/n tried bites of everyone’s food, and enjoyed most of it, with a couple exceptions. Despite that, everyone enjoyed their lunch, and after everyone finished and cleaned up the table, they all headed back up to their practice room, deciding it was a better place to talk than squeezing into the studio.

“So, obviously we have to tell management about this, and also figure out how long you can stay here before heading back to pack up your stuff.” Minho spoke up, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, and I have to talk to my university and try and get that figured out as well. I’m almost finished with my degree, so I’d like to actually finish it off fully.” Y/n told them.

Wows came from a couple of the younger boys, and Y/n blushed a bit.

“What do you study?” Seungmin asked her.

“History is my major in university.” She told them, proceeding to tell them some of the subjects she’s studied within history. She talked more about her favorite periods or topics to study, after the boys asked some questions about what in history she enjoyed and why she decided to study it as a degree.

The group continued talking about their own hobbies and other things they’d like to do in life, as Chan moved to check his and the others schedules, as well as notifying management that they needed to have a meeting. He found their schedules to have been cleared for the day, after he got a response from management that they could have the meeting in 30 minutes.

“Well, good news and maybe good news?” Chan piped up, everyone else going silent, waiting to hear the news. “So, we now have a free schedule for the remainder of the day, but we also have a meeting with management in 30 minutes.” He finished.

A round of groans commenced at Chan’s announcement, as the boys dreaded the meeting with the managers. Y/n looked around in confusion, wondering why they were reacting this way.

“What’s so bad about the meeting?” She asked, tilting her head slightly in confusion.

“They’re not fans of the bureaucracy of being an idol, so they dread meetings with our managers and team.” Chan explained, rolling his eyes at the boys’ antics.

“Ohhh.” She understood now, it made sense that the whole bureaucracy of being an idol would be boring. She herself didn’t enjoy those things either, let alone how much of this administrative stuff goes on in the background of idol agencies.

The boys decided to go change into something a little less casual for their meeting, and thankfully, the boys had something that she could fit into. It wasn’t much, but it fit and didn’t look horrible on her, so that was what counted. They just joked around and the boys fought playfully until about five minutes till the meeting, when they all headed up to where the meeting was to take place, where they arrived just in time. Chan did a head count, before he pushed and held the door open for all of us to enter.

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Taglist: @queen-thiccness

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biblicallyaccuratepigeons · 5 months ago

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"[...] amazingly chose me to be a receptacle for divine and otherworldly insight" "He is a fickle being [...] But I am always eager and ready for the next time he wishes to bestow his rare insights on my mind" "My Muse, that strange, whimsical creature who speaks to me in my dreams, has returned to me at last, with an insight so brilliant it can only be described as divine intervention!" "Could F ever truly appreciate the complex fates that brought me and my Muse together?" "I can think of few times I have known such gratitude"

"How many of my thoughts have been manipulated? Dreams corrupted?" "Interdimensional chess isn't fun when you're a pawn" "The devil has a silver tongue" "If Icarus could see me now"

...

Look.

Listen. This man went from "It's pretty cool when this triangle guy teaches me stuff," to such incredible regard that he uses extra praising descriptors for him before going into the insight, to calling their meeting "complex fates that brought [us] together," to seeing him in the stars and naming his new constellation something close-enough-to-be-obvious, to feeling incredible gratitude at just the offer to be possessed. Then, this man who "never understood poetry, to be honest" goes and waxes poetic about the utter pain he feels at being betrayed.

You can blame as much of his writing patterns when he talks about his capital-m Muse as you want on his love of high fantasy, literature, and academic whatever; but the fact of the matter is, you don't go from speaking in such a subdued way about someone to wondering if your mind is yours or theirs over nothing, emotionally speaking.

Stanford Pines was down horrendous for Bill Cipher, and anyone who's read Journal 3 and disagrees is lying to themselves

#billford #gravity falls #did i spend *checks watch* an hour combing through j3 and composing this post? idk man you tell me it felt more like 15 minutes

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thesirencult · 1 year ago

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THE TRUTH ABOUT ESCAPING TWIN FLAMES AND OTHER MLM NEW AGE BULLSHIT

"You don't get rich writing science fiction. If you want to get rich, you start a religion."

L. Ron Hubbard (Founder of Scientology)

I won't lie to you. What got me into tarot was a very raw and real dream about a man I've never met in my life. I had this dream when I was 15 and it felt like I was floating in a parallel universe.

Dreams with this "stranger" kept coming and going and during a search I stumbled upon the concept of "twin flames".

As with anything NeW AgE it is nothing new. All New Age bullshit are concepts familiar to human civilizations for thousands of years. In all ancient cultures these concepts show up again and again.

Astrology, cartomancy and other forms of divination and guidance have been used by Mesopotamians, Egyptians, Greeks and Hindu people for centuries. They were villainized after the come up of Christianity.

I always have believed there is a higher power. Some name it Allah, others Moses, other Dias etc. Doesn't matter, it's one God above us. Actually contrary to what many want you to believe the Ancient Greeks didn't have "12 Gods" but 12 (and much much more) expressions of DIVINITY. Metaphors and symbolisms.

Hermes Trismegistus has written everything about "manifestation". Others just repackaged it. Some help us understand the concept and others just want to make a quick buck.

All people have some primal needs. Connection and love. Money and wealth. Wanting to be beautiful and powerful. Some people prey on that and, in my opinion, the self-improvement industry will only keep on growing.

The concept of twin flames can be found being expressed by Socrates in the dialogue "Symposium" by Plato :

“Now, since their natural form had been cut in two, each one longed for its own other half, and so they would throw their arms about each other, weaving themselves together, wanting to grow together...

This, then, is the source of our desire to love each other. Love is born into every human being: it calls back the halves of our original nature together; it tries to make one out of two and heal the wound of human nature.

Each of us, then, is a ‘matching half’ of a human whole, because each was sliced like a flatfish, two out of one, and each of us is always seeking the half that matches him."

Sidenote: Obviously I used only two snippets of the dialogue. Socrates' stance on homosexuality and other matters of love can be found in there and it is a good read. It will definitely show you that some concepts have been around since humans walked on this earth.

Moving on, I want to give you some tips on how to best use astrology and tarot/oracle cards as TOOLS to better yourself.

1. First try them yourself.

Don't let others dictate how you see astrology and tarot. Go online and search up your birth chart on astroseek or visit the Light Seer's Tarot/Muse Tarot website which has an incredible pick a card feature.

Don't contact an astrologer or tarot reader before familiarising yourself with the tools and "taking the magic out" of them.

2. No one and mean NO ONE can predict the future 100%.

In our lives there are moments who seem synchronized. They make you believe in fate. I do believe that God intended for us to live through some things but I also absolutely believe in FREE WILL. I always say that to clients especially those who have tarot readings.

Tarot and astrology can help you see the paths laid in front of you. They help you dive in your unconscious mind. Don't let anyone fool you that they are magical and whatever the cards say can not change.

3. If you purchase a reading don't purchase a love/romance one at first.

Don't get me wrong. I love love and romance. I love doing love readings. They are sweet and sexy.

BUT. Even in my love readings I incorporate a "general energy of you" for the person. I do that cause I want to show to my client, who trusted me and chose me that a tarot reader can be vetted.

Sadly even with PAC readings I can see that the romance ones are read and reposted way more than ones that assist with personal development. I try to keep a balance and do both.

The thing is a good tarot reader, astrologer even a therapist or a fitness trainer want to help you become INDEPENDENT. I don't want you to keep coming back and purchase love readings about your ex.

It's toxic. I won't accept that.

4. You are perfect the way you are.

Telling you that "yeah, you have an issue right here and it can be fixed by doing so and so" is okay.

Telling you that "YOU SHOULD LOVE YOURSELF. YOU DON'T LOVE YOURSELF THAT'S WHY YOU WON'T FIND LOVE UNTIL YOU DO THAT" is toxic. People control you this way.

It's like saying give me more money. Ask me how I can make you LOVABLE.

Your other half won't cheat, manipulate or make you feel awful. Your ex who was an asshole is not your Twin Flame.

Light up the flame within and love out your dreams. You will attract people who will adore and love you by being AUTHENTIC.

Anyone that abuses you and puts your flame out should GO.

5. All big corporations prey on your weaknesses & Do not trust anyone who tells you they are the only ones that can set you free or solve your issues.

Be disciplined. Control yourself and your mind. Read "The 48 Laws Of Power" and other books on influence and manipulation. Learn how narcissists and cult leaders operate.

All big companies do not sell you products (I will probably post this part by itself too).

They sell you emotions, feelings, status. BMW doesn't sell cars, it is selling power and prestige and confidence.

Nike doesn't sell shoes and shirts, it is selling dreams of being powerful and different, of making it in the jungle, of WINNING.

But there are some companies which I'M NOT GOING TO MENTION by name who influence you by breaking you down. Astrology apps that send you negative predictions about your day to make you anxious so you will check back every single hour. Cult like influencers who sell "How to get rich quickly" courses that cost thousands of $ and offer no value.

Be careful. Be prepared. Be strong and firm.

I hope everyone who was taken in this cult (wait ! myy username is the siren cult, lol) can find peace and the power within them.

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pink-sparkly-witch · 1 year ago

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Everything

Summary: Dumped by her boyfriend, Y/N goes home with her tail between her legs, praying that her roommate, Dean Winchester, isn’t there to witness yet another failed relationship. But fate doesn’t work that way, and what seems like the universe conspiring against her might actually be what she’s needed all along.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Warnings: angst, break-up, language, douchebag ex, Dean’s a bit of a dick at first, insecurities, heart to heart, frenemies to lovers

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I’m so sorry. This summary is awful. I hope you enjoy whatever this is 😅 Please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a little comment. It really does fuel our muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

My Masterlist AO3 Ko-Fi

The rain pours down, and thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance. You laugh bitterly at how the weather reflects your mood. Rain soaks your hair and clothing, your feet sodden and squelching; the stilettos you’re wearing offer zero protection from the torrents of water falling from the sky and running down the sidewalks.

You’re grateful for it, truth be told. At least this way, no one knows the mascara that runs in black streams down your cheeks is from the tears you’ve been crying over that asshole. The asshole you’ve been dating for two months who just dumped you at your local bar while sitting next to his date for the night.

Fuck, how did this become your life? How did you become this gullible, desperate woman who keeps falling for these kinds of men? Men who date you and sweet talk you, saying all the right things until they get what they want from between your legs and then leave you for someone prettier. Someone younger.

Maybe the asshole’s right. Maybe you are the type of girl to have a fun time with, not the kind to take home to meet someone’s mother. But fuck, that hurts to admit and fuck, you lose more of yourself with every asshole that spews those kind of lines to you. If you’ve said it once, you’ve said it a million times. You’re done with men. And this time, you mean it.

You turn the corner onto your street and stop in your tracks. Dread settles in your stomach as you see your roommate’s car parked on the side of the road. He just had to choose tonight of all nights to stay home, didn’t he? That’s all you fucking need right now. You consider turning around and walking away. Hell, he wouldn’t miss you. You were meant to be staying at the asshole’s place anyway.

But, this is your home. Well, the place you live, at least, and you need to go there eventually. Might as well get it over with. Your lip trembles, knowing you need to face the one person you really don’t want to right now, especially in this state. He already thinks you’re pathetic enough as it is.

You walk up the stairs, dread settling heavily in the pit of your stomach the closer you get to the door. You cast up a silent prayer that the only reason Dean is home is because he’s got female company over. At least then, you can get in, grab some whiskey and get to your room quietly and unnoticed.

“Hey, what are you doing home so early? Thought you were staying at Chuck’s tonight?” Dean says from the couch, not even turning to look at you.

“Yeah, well, plans change. Why are you here? Thought you’d be chasing some skinny ass, barely legal bitch at the bar.” Your tone conveys pure disgust, and you curse yourself for it when he turns to look at you. And, of course, he laughs.

“What the hell happened to you?” he buckles, scanning your absolutely hilarious appearance. “You look like someone threw you in the river and left you to claw your way back out again!” Dean laughs, and you huff, desperately trying to stop the fresh batch of tears threatening to stream down your face.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Dean, there’s a torrential downpour out there.”

“Yeah, that explains the puddle at your feet, but not the rest of you, bitch,” he laughs, and that does it. You know he’s not being serious; you constantly hurl insults at one another, and it doesn’t usually get to either of you, but this time, it hits differently.

“The only reason I kept you around so long is because you’re like a bitch in heat. Always needing to be fucked. But that’s all you’re good for, and it grows old pretty quickly.”

Your eyes water, and your lip trembles. A sob escapes unchecked, and you wish the floor would open you up and swallow you whole. “I’m going to bed,” you mutter and turn to walk away.

“Y/N, wait,” Dean says, his face softening into concern.

“What, Dean? What? You wanna laugh at me more? Call me a bitch again, huh? Look, I know you don’t like me, but you know what? A little compassion can go a long way. Some humanity might make me actually believe you have a heart.”

Your mind replays every conversation you’ve overheard Dean having about you with his brother, his friends, and his conquests, and your heart sinks to the floor at how true your words are.

“Who? Her? She’s just my roommate. Baby, you don’t have to worry about her. We’re not even friends, and she’s not my type. She’s basically my live-in maid. She cooks and cleans for me and pays me for the privilege.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, what happened?” Dean asks, stepping towards you, frowning when you step back.

“Doesn’t matter,” you sniffle.

“Come on, you’re upset. Talk to me, tell me what’s going on.”

“Why? So you can make fun of me like you always do? We're not even friends, Dean. Stop pretending you give a damn about me.” The hurt furrowing his brow surprises you, and you scoff. “Don’t look so hurt, Dean. I’m only repeating your words back to you. I’m the live-in maid, remember?” you turn and walk quickly to your room, slamming the door.

Whiskey will have to wait until Dean’s gone to bed.

It’s been quiet in the main section of the apartment for over an hour now. It’s probably safe to assume Dean has gone to bed, and you can get the whiskey you’re so desperate to drown yourself in.

Leaving the sanctuary of your bedroom, you pad down the hall in your bare feet, trying to be as quiet as possible. Dean is a light sleeper, and he’d complained before about you waking him whenever you get up in the middle of the night suffering from a bout of insomnia.

“I was wondering when you’d come out,” Dean’s voice makes you jump as it rings from the small dining table by the kitchen window. He’s sitting in the dark, with just the moon’s light shining enough to see his silhouette. “I was getting worried,” he states, sipping from a tumbler.

“Oh, so you do have a heart?” you respond. It’s a bitchy comment, and you know it, but you’re in defence mode after Chuck. “Might want to show it once in a while.”

“Nah. Makes me look weak,” he chuckles. His joke caught you off guard, and you let out a little huff of laughter. “See? I knew I could make you smile!”

“Barely,” you quip back and sit across from him, grabbing the whiskey bottle and filling the empty glass Dean must’ve put on the table for you.

“What happened, sweetheart? You left here tonight looking stunning and happy, and when you came home—”

“I was crying, and you called me bitch,” you state, watching Dean’s head drop.

“Not my finest moment, I admit,” Dean says as he reaches for the bottle and refills both glasses. “I didn’t know how upset you were, and I was only teasing you. If I’d known that it wasn’t just the rain that made your mascara run, I’d never have said it, and I hope you know that.”

“I really wanna believe that, but you’re always saying hurtful things,” you say, draining your glass.

“The things you said earlier,” Dean nods. “I didn’t mean… look, Y/N, you’re a beautiful woman, and some of the girls I bring home get jealous, you know? I say those things to keep them sweet.”

You nod, thinking it’s a fair excuse. Dean does have a lot of women over, and you’ve pulled out the sting from more than a few of them.

“As for what I say to Sam and my friends, well, they tease me about living with a pretty girl and don’t believe me when I say we’re just roommates,” Dean continues. You have to admit that was also sound reasoning. It didn’t excuse it; he was still a dick, but you understood it a little better.

“It’d just be nice if you stopped for a second and thought of me as a person with feelings before you say those kinds of things in front of me,” you say, filling your glass again.

“Alright, sweetheart, I promise I’ll work on that,” Dean agrees, and you notice he’s watching you intently.

“What?” you ask, feeling uncomfortably exposed under his gaze.

“What happened with Chuck,” Dean asks again.

“I don’t want to tell you,” you sigh.

“Why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing,” you whine and hit your head on the table.

“Come on,” Dean says, topping up their glasses again. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but I promise whatever it is, it won’t be as bad as you think.”

“I got to the bar, and Chuck was there with another woman. He told me we were over and that Anna was his date for the night. Then, to rub salt in my wounds, as I was walking away, he told me that all I was good for was a great time in bed. Always up for anything, like a bitch in heat.”

“And then you came home, and I called you a bitch. Y/N, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Dean takes your hand in his, and you can see that it’s a genuine apology, and he really does feel awful about it. “You know he’s wrong, right? You’re worth so much more than that?”

“I don’t think I am. He’s not the only guy to tell me that,” you shrug. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m done with men and dating.”

“You don’t mean that. You think I don’t know about all the romcoms you watch on Netflix? All those girly books you read.”

“Yeah, well, a fat lot of good they did me. I’m starting to see why people are boycotting Disney Princess movies because they’re filled with romantic disillusionment and give a false idea to women that their Prince Charming exists somewhere out there.”

“This is more serious than I thought if you’re losing faith in the Disney Princesses!” Dean chuckles, and it makes you smile slightly. “Seriously, though, I think this is more about the men you date than you, sweetheart. They are way out of your league.”

“I am not out of anyone’s league, Dean. If anything, it’s probably the other way around,” you huff a bitter laugh.

“I’m out of your league,” Dean says quietly.

“You have that backwards. I’m the one out of your league. You’re gorgeous and charming, and I have seen the girls you bring home, and they are the most stunning women I’ve ever seen. I can’t compete with that.” The words spill out of you before you can stop them, and you think Dean might be blushing, but it’s hard to tell when the only sliver of light comes from the moon shining through the kitchen window.

Dean laughs, and it takes you aback slightly. “I have called you beautiful or some other variation of it several times tonight, and not once have you picked up on it. Those women are hot, sure, but you… You are on a whole other level of hot. You are stunning and so much classier than they will ever be.”

You scoff at his words, not believing them but not wanting him to know they affect you. You know Dean’s type, and it is definitely not you. “You don’t have to try and make me feel better, Dean.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. There’s a reason Sam and Cas and Benny are on my case so much about you, and it’s because I really, really, like you—”

“So, all the insults and barely tolerating my presence was what,” you smirk over at him, “you pulling my pigtails and pushing me over in the playground?”

“When you put it like that…” Dean cringes. “I guess it was. Look, you’re hurt and sad, and we’ve had a lot to drink, so I’m not going to push you to tell me if this is one-sided, but I will talk to you tomorrow when we’re both sober.”

The warmth of the sun wakes you, and you stretch in its gentle heat. You’re not nearly as hungover as you should be, and for that, you’re grateful. Dean had some interesting things to say last night, and you’d rather your brain was running at full capacity.

Quietly, you make your way to the kitchen, mindful that Dean’s door is closed, so it’s likely he’s still sleeping, and start the coffee machine.

You busy yourself with clearing up from the night before. You rinse dishes, put them in the dishwasher and put the almost empty whiskey bottle back in the cupboard. You grab your and Dean’s favourite mugs and place them next to the coffee machine.

Taking the cleaning spray, you spritz all the surfaces and wipe them down while patiently waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.

“How did I manage to find the only person in this city who likes cleaning?” Dean’s groggy voice sounds from the doorway, and you smile.

“Morning, Dean,” you say as you pick up the coffee pot and fill his mug. You place it on the breakfast bar and fill your own before hopping onto one of the stools and making yourself comfortable.

“Morning, sweetheart. Thanks,” Dean says as he picks up his mug and takes a sip. “So, about last night…”

“Wow,” you chuckle. “Straight to the point, huh?”

“I’ve wasted enough time, and now that my feelings are out there, I can’t sit on this any longer,” Dean pauses to take another mouthful of coffee. “I meant what I said. I like you, Y/N. I’m sorry if anything I did when I was in denial of my feelings hurt you. And I’m sorry for pushing you away and making you think I hated you so you wouldn’t find out how I really feel.”

“Dean, I don’t know what to say,” you say. “I used to like you in that way, but with how you were with me, I turned it off because, for the past year, I’ve been thinking you don’t like me, and I don’t know if anything is still there for you.”

Dean nods, looking a little deflated by your words, but it’s clear he accepts them. “Can I at least try and make you get it back?”

“I don’t know—“ you begin, but Dean cuts you off.

“Please, Y/N. One date is all I’m asking for,” Dean begs, and you feel your resolve waning. You know you still have feelings for him.

“I’ve seen the girls you bring home, Dean. And I’m nothing compared to them,” you try. It’s your last bit of fight, the last time you’ll be able to give him an out from this.

“You’re everything, Y/N. And I mean that. You are smart, funny, kind, beautiful… you’re everything they weren’t. Please,” Dean begs again. “Just one date. Let me prove it.”

“Okay,” you nod with a small smile.

“Yeah?” Dean says, breaking out into a boyish grin.

“Yeah. I’ll go on a date with you, Dean.”

“Awesome!” he grins, looking like he just answered the million-dollar question. “I promise you won’t regret it!”

#everything #au dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x daughter!reader #au dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst

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